#and the bodice comes off so he could so wear it as a fancy shirt ;)
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IMYM Chapter 24:
A Night to Remember: Ribbon
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Ribbon worked on his new project. He figured out how to sew plushies and that became his new favorite thing to do. He worked on a bear. He was careful to sew the white star beads on, being sure not to prick himself. Sewing felt so normal and comforting.
Ribbon calmed down since the kidnapping and could finally relax. He didn’t cling to Nightmare. Well, he did, but not as much. He got back onto his routine with chores, calm activities, and love time with Nightmare. Ribbon didn’t even want to go outside because he was so scared of kidnapping.
Part of him heard the door open, but he was too focused on his project to register it. So hearing Nightmare’s smooth voice startled him. “It looks lovely, Ribbon. You truly have talent.”
Ribbon didn’t expect Nightmare’s voice and jumped. Nightmare chuckled. “I didn’t mean to scare you, my apologies.”
Ribbon pulled his string and chuckled. “It’s okay, Nighty! What did you want to ask me?” He pulled the bows on the waistband to make sure it would stay.
Nightmare watched him, rubbing his pointer finger and thumb together. “I have a business exchange in Mafiatale. I bought . . . something special and he told me to pick it up at a masquerade ball he’s attending. I want you to come with me, at least as an armpiece. There will be dancing and food, and it takes place at a nicely kept mansion."
“A party?” Ribbon looked up at Nightmare and set his supplies down. “But . . . I thought you didn’t want me to be exposed to anyone.”
“Only to people I don't like or trust. The monsters here I have more faith in. More, not entirely, but they won't kidnap you. And this is important. Very important, especially for you.” Nightmare held a hand out for Ribbon to take.
Ribbon took his hand and stood up, looking into Nightmare’s eye. He knew better than ever to turn down an order. He nodded, letting Nightmare caress his cheekbones. “Okay. Is there something in particular you want me to wear?”
Nightmare traced a hand down his body. “Nothing in particular, but I don’t want your body to be too exposed. Cover up. Oh, and include bits of gold to match my outfit.”
“Of course, Nighty!” Ribbon kissed his cheekbone. He had the perfect dress and necklace in mind. He was going to be so pretty for him!
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Ribbon had never been in a limo before. Nightmare said he was able to get one because of his associate. Ribbon liked the feeling of the leather seats and the view of the buildings zooming past. He rested his head on his gloved hand, Blossom leaned against his leg. Mafiatale was scary and dark, but also really cool. The random gunshots kept making him jump. Nightmare chuckled each time. Probably because he knew nothing could harm Ribbon while he was in the limo with him.
When he wasn’t looking out the window, Ribbon couldn’t take his eye lights off Nightmare. His high-collared silk shirt was black bordering dark teal. Across the left part of his chest were gold swirls and stitched symbols. A gold sash started at his right shoulder and ended at his waist.
Meanwhile, Ribbon’s outfit was the perfect mix of cutesy and fancy. He took Nightmare’s advice and had very little of his body shown. It was a soft white gown with a lacey layer over the bodice and leggings. Tight at the top and flowy waist down. He wore silky white gloves reaching his shoulders. He wore a choker with gold details like Nightmare’s outfit. Pinned to the back of his skull was a white bow.
Nightmare squeezed his gloved hand and kissed his cheek. “You look lovely, my little princess. It's a similar crowd to your show, they're going to love you.”
Ribbon blushed and nuzzled up to Nightmare, resting his head on his shoulder. Nightmare pulled him onto his lap. He kept petting his head, then he adjusted the bow on his head. Between the bumping of the limo and the soft pets from Nightmare, Ribbon could fall asleep if he wanted to. It was so cozy . . .
After another five minutes, the bumping finally stopped and Ribbon woke up. He looked around and his eyes immediately widened at the giant white mansion in the back. It was shiny with neat white landscaping surrounding a giant marble fountain. Ten lit lamps surrounded the sidewalk and made up for the black sky. The water looked clear and blue enough to drink. Some type of music and talking came from the inside. Nightmare took Ribbon by the waist and spoke something to the chauffeur. It was in another language that the doll didn’t understand. Italian maybe? That would make sense with Mafiatale.
Nightmare stepped out of the limousine and took Ribbon’s hand to help him out. Once Ribbon’s high heel touched the ground, he grabbed Nightmare to steady himself. The dark king chuckled. He squeezed his hand, then he walked up to the mansion, one tendril around Ribbon’s shoulders.
They stepped up to the entryway, Nightmare’s arm wrapped around his. He helped him balance on his high heels, even though Ribbon could handle them fine. He didn’t say it, but he liked how worried he was.
Nightmare stopped in front of the gigantic swirl-patterned doors. He turned to Ribbon and adjusted the choker on his neck, then he patted down his skirt.
Ribbon shook his head. He pulled his neck charm. “Nightmare, I look fine and you look great. You’re overthinking.”
“I know, but I want you to look perfect. Remember to curtsy and smile, show them you’re happy to be at my side. No talking to anyone unless I permit you to do so. I don’t want anyone . . . influencing you.”
“I am happy to be at your side. You know this! Just relax a bit, please.” The doll fixed his sash. It was slipping. “There. That’s better."
Nightmare smiled at him and pulled the door open. Ribbon shielded his eyes. It was bright, but pretty A blackish-blue theme ranged from the long rug on the floor to the walls. The bright part was the bright white lights on the ceiling. Nightmare talked to a guard in completely black clothes in the same weird language. The guard opened the bigger door. They walked through a short hall, and then they were at the party.
Golden chandelier lights shone down on a massive ballroom. The floor was made of orange and yellow tiles. Too loud, too bright, too big, too many people. Ribbon was immediately overwhelmed and overstimulated and clung tighter to his boyfriend. Not even being in the scarier and bigger AUs stressed him out this much. It was way more than his show! And the lights were dark
Nightmare’s tendril rested on his shoulder, protecting him. “Is this too much for you?"
Ribbon nodded his head. He didn't complain out loud because he didn't want to make Nightmare upset. He could have sworn everyone was staring at him, he had a bad feeling about this. But he felt better with Nightmare holding his hand. What could go wrong when he was here? Nightmare walked with him through the party and crowd. Ribbon listened to the whispers of people nearby. He took a deep calming breath. clinging onto Nightmare.
Nightmare grinned and ran his fingers down his skull. The gentle touch helped. “Shh, you’re fine. I’m here.”
Nightmare walked inside with Ribbon still on his arm. His heels clicked against the floor, people whispered about him. Nightmare nodded in greeting to people. Ribbon hated all the noise. He recognized a couple of people from when Nightmare made him sing in that club. Ribbon looked up at a platform in the back of the room, behind the stairs. Would he have to sing again? He shivered.
Nightmare pulled Ribbon ahead and stopped. He set his gaze on a monster, but Ribbon couldn’t see who, at least not well. But then they stepped out and held a hand out to Nightmare. “Lord Joku, it’s a pleasure. ”
Ribbon couldn’t figure out the monster’s accent. He was a fox with brownish-gray fur and sharp features. He sported a black suit vest over a white collared shirt. Ribbon liked how shiny his gold watch was. Pretty . . .
“So this is the little cutie you took under your wing, hm? Sorry, I couldn't make it to that show.” Warg looked him over. “My, you’re even cuter than how Nightmare described you. Especially those twinkling little eyes, they’re beautiful.” The fox reached a hand out to touch his face. The doll cringed with an awkward smile. He curtsied anyway.
Nightmare’s tendril swatted it away and shielded Ribbon. “If you prefer to leave with your spine intact, keep your filthy paws off him. No one is allowed to touch him without my permission, which you don’t have. I’m here for business only.”
Ribbon mouthed a ‘thank you’. Nightmare squeezed his hand tighter.
“Buzzkill,” Warg muttered. He fiddled with one of the pockets on his vest. His paw wrapped around something and he gave a sharp-toothed smile. “Anyways, if it’s business you want, it’s business you’re going to get.”
“Excellent.” The dark king turned to Ribbon. He looked back at the fox. “I’ll be back, there’s something I have to do first. Pardon me.” Nightmare took Ribbon by the hand and led him toward the staircase. He listened to the nearby crowds and voices.
“Aw, I recognize him."
“He almost looks like the fallen guardian."
“He’s so cute in that dress.”
“Oh great, the Lord of Negativity is in love."
Ribbon blushed in embarrassment, but something in him felt good. They were scared of Nightmare, and by extension scared of him. He moved closer to Nightmare as he climbed up one of the massive staircases. The thin shiny steps were tricky with his high heels. He looked down at the party and felt even bigger. He grinned wide.
Ribbon stepped onto the cream-colored balcony and set his arms on the chipped barrier. The sky was amazing, covered in glittery stars. He could still hear the party behind him, but it was mild background noise. Cold air blew on his face, but he didn’t mind. Nightmare held his tendrils up to intimate and scare off the few people on the balcony. Nightmare brought him into the corner between the balcony and the wall.
Nightmare pushed him into the corner and pinned him, blocking him with his tendrils. "I’m afraid I have to do this alone, my little doll. You must stand right here, don’t move a single step. I will return to you as soon as possible, then we can return to enjoying the party. I’ll dance with you and you can sing, okay?”
Ribbon’s eye sockets widened at the idea of being without him. “Why can’t I go with you? You said that we would spend the night together-"
Nightmare raised his right hand; Ribbon stopped talking. Nightmare set a hand on his pull string. “Believe me, I wish I could bring you along, but you will soon understand why I can not. Think of it as a . . . little game, see how long you can last without me. Also, you have permission to attack anyone who threatens to hurt you. If you manage this, you’ll receive a reward, understand? Good.” He took his sash off and wrapped it around him for a little warmth. He kissed his neck and left him on the balcony.
Ribbon was alone. Well, by definition, he was lonely. But he wasn't going to let Nightmare down. He stepped behind the massive curtain that hid between the wall and the balcony. That feeling of powerfulness faded without him. Oh, who was he kidding before? He was only strong when he had Nightmare to guard him! Ribbon hugged the sash. It smelt like Nightmare, bitter apple cider.
Calm down, it’s not a big deal. He’s just in another room. Maybe I should go downstairs and look for him? No, he’d be disappointed. Do as he says and stay here.
The doll looked off the balcony. The faint sound of sirens rang from the distance, along with some screaming. Music played from behind him. He couldn't feel Nightmare's negative aura, but he had to be close. Ribbon squeezed the sash. He stepped slightly out of the corner to see better. Being alone wasn't so bad!
The sounds of broken static cracked from next to him. “I’ve never seen a Sans in a stupid dress like that before. Who are you supposed to be?”
Nevermind.
Ribbon jumped back as he tried to see who was on his left. It was a skeleton with black bones like Nightmare. He wore a simple black suit with a bow tie matching the blue stripes on his face. ERROR signs and white particles danced around him. His right hand dangled a giant plastic cup of chocolate from the fountain. Something about this guy was familiar, but Ribbon couldn’t put his finger on it. It reminded him of someone you see as a background character in a dream.
“Wait, Ink? It’s you?” The stranger strode closer, his grin growing. Ribbon backed up. “I wastold Nightmare killed you, but I knew that was fake because of that doll plan he made. Huh, it actually worked. And they replaced you with Fresh. Ugh." He rolled his eyelights. Why did his voice glitch like that? "I heard about your funeral and stars above, you look ridiculous. Are you wearing perfume? I smell cherry blossoms.”
Ribbon’s instincts drove him to an uncomfortable curtsy. He trembled on his heels, but remembered he still had Blossom on him. He took the parasol off his back, remembering Nightmare's words. He knew it was a good idea to have an outfit that fit with Blossom! Ribbon leaned on his parasol as the point stabbed into the ground. He pulled his string. “Sir, I . . . I don’t know you. And I’m not allowed to talk to strangers. so please leave me alone.”
The skeleton stopped. His snicker turned into a full glitchy cackle. “Did you call me sir? And you curtsied? What happened to your voice? Holy stars, where do I even start? Did Nightmare wipe your memory or something? You know, that would actually explain a lot. My name is Error, and I’m your sworn enemy.”
He tried harder to place him, but his mind kept playing static. His mind offered him a blurry memory. Ribbon blew raspberries at him while he was sewing skeleton dolls. Why would he act that immature? Dolls would never do that. Frenemies, that’s what he and Error were. But he didn’t know why. Something to do with the AUs? Ribbon lit up. “Oh, now I remember you! I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you earlier. How have you been?”
“Eh, not too bad. It’s been easier to destroy AUs without you getting in the way. Dream and Core are still problems, but they're easier than you. Since when did you get so . . . polite? It's creepy." Error tilted his head. "Where did you get that dress? It doesn't look like the kind Nightmare got.
Ribbon smiled, relaxing his grip on Blossom. “Since I’ve been trained! Nightmare’s the best.” He spun around in his dress, giving Error a better view. “I made it myself! Nightmare taught me how to sew! But he gave me this choker, I didn't make that.”
Error broke into another laughing fit. Ribbon didn’t get what was so funny. “You’re joking, right? Nightmare is a dick, he wouldn't be so soft to teach you to sew. You gotta be lying, or you're that stupid. I can't believe you ate up everything he told you."
Ribbon gasped and covered his mouth. He didn’t care that he was laughing at him, but he was making fun of Nightmare! He tightened his grip Blossom and stormed up to Error. “He is not bad and I'm not lying! Be quiet! He is worth more than you will ever be! He is perfect!”
“Aw, did I offend you and your ‘boyfriend’?” Error’s mocking tone trailed off as he squinted at Ribbon. The doll sensed the suspicion, a look he remembered from back when he was bad and disobedient. Error reached into his pocket and took out a pair of red glasses. He put them on and looked at Ribbon again. “Wait a minute, you didn’t have a babyface before getting taken by Nightmare. Is that plastic surgery?” He stepped back and walked around him. “You’re a lot shorter too, which is impressive because I didn’t think you could get shorter. It’s like you exchanged your height for curves. What kind of workout is he putting you on?”
Ribbon didn’t know how to explain that. He kept his mouth shut and hoped Error would lose interest. He couldn’t make himself move either, he had Blossom, but he worried about something else. If he moved too much, Error would get more suspcious, which would make him more likely to find out, which would-
Error kept looking him over until pausing at his shoulder. “Hey, what’s this?” Error’s strings pulled away part of his dress to show off his silver stitches. Ribbon’s hand flew to cover them, but it was too late. Error’s strings traced over the thread. Ribbon fidgeted in his hold.
“Stop touching me! Please! I’m not allowed to talk about it! I’ll get in trouble! Get away from me!” Ribbon lifted Blossom and twirled, slicing Error across the face. “Stop! Stop, st-" His voice cut off when the string returned.
Error jumped back as Ribbon's voice cut. Error wasn't hurt badly. But with the way he pulled his hand from his cheekbone, he looked surprised Blossom was sharp. Calming down, Ribbon huffed and pulled his string, making his voice sound normal again. Error's eye's socket glitched over, he must have thought the charm was part of the choker. "What . . . what the hell?” He asked, mostly to himself.
“Error, that’s mine.”
To Ribbon’s relief, a familiar sludge-covered limb nudged his shoulder. He sighed and ran to Nightmare. Nightmare offered him a tendril to hug while his arms were crossed, glaring down at Error. The destroyer looked somewhere between baffled and uneasy. "There you are."
“Usually, I would say thank you for keeping an eye on him,” Nightmare said. “However, I could sense his fear from the basement, among a manor of other souls. To be fair, he’s easy to scare when alone, but there was no need to take advantage. Only I can do that.”
“Come on, I was having some fun. Look at him, he’s fine!” Error smiled, though it twitched. Ribbon trembled and whimpered. “I’ll admit it, you were right. I thought this idea of yours was stupid and would go horribly wrong. But you trained your toy well, I didn't even recognize him at first. I'd believe he was a doll if I didn't know.
Nightmare raised a browbone. “Toy? Now, where did you get an idea like that?”
Error watched Ribbon snuggle into his tendril with a smile of bliss and safety. His already stressed smile faded into a scowl. His browbones furrowed as he put two and two together. “Wait, you two aren’t actually dating, right? You told me you were going to fake it. anomaly four hundred forty-four, don’t give me that look. Tell me you two aren’t a thing.” His voice glitched more.
“We are!” Ribbon exclaimed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! I love him!"
Error’s amusement faded into dust. He stared at Nightmare like he wanted to punch him in the face and grind him into calamari. “That . . . is disgusting. And it violates our deal."
“Yes, we have feelings for each other, end of story.” Nightmare rolled his eye light. “Ribbon, we’re returning to the dance. I’ll stay by your side this time.”
Error growled. “Oh no, you’re not leaving until I get some real answers!” He clawed at his eye sockets until blue strings came out. He jerked his hand and the threads shot at Ribbon. Ribbon jumped into defense mode, but Nightmare pushed him aside. He blocked the strings with his tendrils.
“Nightlight, hold on! Let me give you a hand!”
Without turning around, Nightmare tapped his middle finger, pointer finger, and thumb together. Ribbon dropped to his knees, hands in his lap, still and silent. As a doll should.
Error froze, stunned. “What the actual- what is he, your dog?”
Error was so distracted, he didn’t see Nightmare slam a tendril into his ribs. He crashed into a pillar. The dark king raised his fist and brought it down on his chest. Error caught his hand and strangled him with his strings. Ribbon struggled between the urges to help and stay put and obey. He closed his eyes.
He didn't see what happened next, but he listened to their screaming, the punching, and the violence. Then everything went quiet. Ribbon kept his eyes closed until Nightmare pet him on the head. Ribbon gulped and looked him over. “Are you hurt? What happened to Error?"
Nightmare helped him stand. “Ah, no. But I appreciate the concern. I threw him off the balcony,” His tendrils brushed down Ribbon’s dress, which got dirty in the scuffle. “There, much better. Come along now.”
Ribbon tried to stand on his tiptoes and almost toppled off his heels. He couldn’t see Error anywhere. He couldn’t hear his glitching either. “Is he going to be okay?”
“That is none of our concern. Now come along. I won’t say it again.” Nightmare took the back of his skull and turned him around. He had a tight grip on his hand that would’ve hurt if Ribbon could feel it. Once they were back inside, he softened his hold and voice. “I apologize for my aggression. I was just worried he would damage you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, he spooked me, that’s all.” Ribbon worried if that was the right thing to say. It didn’t hurt, but he still felt Error’s strings on his shoulder. Why was he acting so weird? His new body was better, but Error acted like it was nasty.
Nightmare must have sensed his emotions because he wrapped him in his tendrils. He pulled him close to his body and let Ribbon breathe. “Certain? You’re not considering anything, are you?
Ribbon cupped Nightmare’s cheekbones and kissed him, hoping to calm him down. “Nightmare, I belong to you. You know I belong to you, it’s in the contract and I have your mark on my chest, remember? No one will ever make me want to run away! Please don’t be upset.”
“I’m not upset.” Nightmare looked a bit calmer, but his body was still tense. “This is why I don’t take you out in public. You’re too easy to trick. Come on, we’re going back downstairs.”
Nightmare grabbed Ribbon by the hand and brought him back to the party. He looked behind himself as if Error was going to jump back and drag him to the Anti-Void.
By the time they got down there, a slow song started and the lights dimmed. Nightmare took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “May I have this dance, my lady?” he asked with a joking tone.
Ribbon smiled. “Yes, yes you may.”
Nightmare wrapped one arm around his waist and held hands with the other. He took the lead. “Just as we practiced now.”
The artist clenched his teeth to stop himself from grinning. Nightmare didn’t know about the extra practice he was taking on his own. His ballerina build made it easier to dance. Not that he couldn’t dance before, but he was lighter on his tiny plastic body.
They started a waltz. Nightmare swayed him across the floor. Ribbon made sure not to trip on his feet. It wasn’t like he was going to screw up, he was literally trained to dance in battle. He didn’t want to ruin things, especially when he was having so much fun. He gripped Nightmare’s hand tighter. Ribbon looked up at him as Nightmare’s twirled him around. It was scary at first, but this was turning into one of the best nights of his life.
Ribbon’s thoughts shifted back to Error. He looked at the balcony, then at the door. He gripped tighter to Nightmare's shoulders. Silly, Error wasn’t coming back, Nightmare took care of him! But still . . . something was on his mind.
“Nightlight? Can I ask you something?” Ribbon whispered against his chest. "Am I even allowed to talk right now?"
“You have my permission. Is something wrong?”
“Yeah, Error said something back there that was . . . kinda weird.”
Nightmare scowled and his grip tightened on his hand. “What did he tell you?”
“He said something like . . .” He made a bad impression of Error’s voice, “‘I’m surprised Nightmare hasn’t killed you yet'. Then he told me how stupid I was for ‘believing your lies’. I know he was trying to trick me, but I was still scared. I fought for you though!" He gulped before asking the big question. “Are you planning to kill me?”
Nightmare brought him in a low dip before pulling them back together and answering. “Error is dangerous. Erratic. Manipulative. Twisted. Emotionally unstable. A sociopath. You can’t rely on anything he says. I’m sorry you crossed paths with him at all. I should’ve never left you on your own, my mistake. Yes, I did visit him the day before our first date so I could ask for . . . advice. I may have made my intentions unclear, but no, I don’t plan to kill you. The mere opposite.” He booped his nasal bone. “I plan to keep you forever.”
Ribbon sighed in relief. He knew it. His love would never hurt him like that. Sounds like a good thing he could barely remember who Error was. He didn’t want to remember either. The artist knew he had a life before Nightmare, but the details turned blurrier each day. He didn’t care about his old life if Nightmare wasn’t in it. Stress off his mind, Ribbon relaxed and focused on dancing. He could autopilot after a while.
Left foot up, right foot back. Don’t let go of Nightmare. Ribbon closed his eyes and imagined them dancing like this a few years from new. His heart beat faster at the thought alone. He hoped Nightmare never got bored of him. Ribbon stood in his tiptoes and pecked Nightmare.
The rest of the party had no more attacks, so it was great. They spent most of it dancing, but they also had drinks and talked casually. Ribbon wasn’t allowed alcohol, so he had punch instead while Nightmare drank wine. Nightmare never let him leave his sight. He was always keeping a tendril around his waist, keeping an arm around his, holding his hand. He had a dreamy look in his eye whenever he stared at Ribbon, which made him feel lucky and important. Nightmare never looked at anyone else like that. He had a few more talks with associates of his. Ribbon kept silent during all of them, earning some praise for Nightmare about how good of a trainer he was. They told him Ribbon was a very well-behaved and quiet doll.
Nightmare decided to leave without announcing it. He wrapped an arm around Ribbon’s shoulders and led him out. Ribbon was dizzy from party fever, plus his social battery was low. When was the last time he was around that many people and not killing and or torturing them? It had to be almost a year ago.
He expected Nightmare to wait for the limo and use a portal to go back home, but then he took a turn. He held Ribbon’s wrist and walked with him to the back of the mansion, near the garden. Ribbon looked around in confusion. The flowers and plants were pretty, but he didn't get what was going on.
When Nightmare found a clearing, he slipped in front of Ribbon and put his hands on his shoulders. “Ribbon, we need to talk. I have something to ask you.”
The adrenaline in Ribbon dimmed down. He tried to figure out where he messed up at the party. Was he too loud? Too autonomous? Did he embarrass Nightmare? The doll lowered his head. “I'm sorry, did I do something wrong?"
“Oh on the contrary. You were excellent out there. Your dancing in particular impressed me, I didn’t know you could move like that.” Nightmare laughed to himself, which made Ribbon feel a lot better. “No, I wanted to discuss something else.” He turned around and walked a short bit.
“I understand we’ve been together for less than a year, but you have made such an impact on my life. I meant it that first night in Outertale when I said you’re special, even if it wasn't in the way I thought. You’ve affected me in a way no one else ever has. And I know I’ve improved youin more ways than one. I will be truthful, I’ve been debating this for several weeks, but now I know it’s the right time. After all, what’s a king without his queen?”
Ribbon didn’t have time to answer before Nightmare got down on one knee and took a small box out of his pocket. Slipping his thumb between the velvet lid, he opened it to a beautiful black ring. The dark band held the biggest and shiniest diamond Ribbon’s ever seen. Little blue particles and swirls glittered inside. “Ribbon Eve Adela, I vow to love you for all eternity. I’m offering every part of me in exchange for every piece of you. We’ll be the strongest love in a new multiverse, one of our own design. But before that, I need to ask. Will you marry me?”
If Ribbon still could, he would’ve vomited paint there and then. Besides that, he barely held back his excitement. “Yes! YES! A million times yes!” He threw himself at his new fiancé and they both fell backward. Nightmare groaned and Ribbon realized his mistake, he forgot about his positivity.
The doll muttered an apology and started to pull away, but Nightmare’s tendrils hugged him back. “No, don't pull back. I like your positive emotions. Stay here, don't worry.” He took Ribbon’s hand in his own. “Here, put it on.”
The dark king removed his right glove and slid the ring over his fourth finger. It fit like it was always meant to be there. Ribbon flexed his hand, reflecting the moonlight to make it shimmer even brighter.
“I love it! I love it, I love it!” Ribbon exclaimed. He leaned in and kissed Nightmare as a thank you. Nightmare didn’t mind returning it. Under the moon, he could’ve stayed there, kissing his soon-to-be husband forever.
#IMYM#whump#whumpblr#whump writing#whump fanfiction#whump fic#creepy whumper#conditioned whumpee#intimate whumper#whumper x whumpee#nightmare sans#error sans#ink sans#Ribbon!Ink#inkmare#nightink#ink x nightmare#bad sans gang#undertale#undertale au
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Ballroom Dancing and Other Monsters
Bang hates fancy parties. She hates formal etiquette. She really hates anything where she can’t solve her problems with knives, ideally in someone else’s body. But she was going to suffer through — the horrors — prom because Violetta and Zeetha wanted to go, and she wasn’t going to be a lousy friend. (She also didn’t want Gil to go alone, which would have happened, since Agatha refused to go, Tarvek was going with Violetta, Xerxesphina was Colette’s date, and Zeetha had her mysterious boyfriend, and Klaus had told his son that he was going, whether he wanted to or not.)
Bang, above all, hates formal dresses. She’d called Tarvek to find an outfit for her. He’d thought she was going to try to kill him, but when it became clear that she’d kill him if he didn’t get her a dress, he made sure to find a very pretty one for her. It was a lovely cream with crimson beadwork on the bodice, spaghetti straps, an A-line full skirt, and a deep V-neck. She did have to admit that she felt pretty in it, even if it did make her vulnerable.
“Eep,” she yelped as Zeetha zipped it up.
“Thought you were invulnerable to pain,” Zeetha remarked.
“I’m not invulnerable to having all the air squeezed out of my chest!” Bang almost reached for a knife but stopped herself. Zeetha is a friend. She means well.
“Okay, Zeetha, try to murder me now,” Violetta laughed. She was in a deep purple off-the-shoulder dress with a tiered tulle skirt. Another Tarvek selection.
Zeetha obliged, yanking Violetta’s zipper up. She was wearing a golden mermaid dress that glistened in the light, with heels and bracelets the same hue of green as her hair. Tarvek hadn’t had any hand in her outfit; she’d picked it out herself. (He had almost been insulted that she hadn’t consulted him.)
“Are we ready to party?” Zeetha asked, rolling the r in a flamboyant manner. “Come on, the limo’s waiting outside!”
“The… limo?” Was not expecting this. Bang awkwardly laughed.
Zeetha rolled her eyes. “We’re picking up the boys in style, gals!” She grabbed Bang and Zeetha by the arms and yanked them outside, plopping them in the limo. “First stop, Tarvek!”
Tarvek was waiting for them when they got to his house. He hurriedly jumped into the limo — Bang could tell that he was worried about his father and his sister trying to stop him. His father was controlling to an extreme and his sister was… ill. She knew his home life wasn’t great, which was why she felt a twinge of guilt each time she stabbed him.
“Hey, Tarvek, if you need somewhere to stay tonight, my place is yours,” she said.
He jumped up in his seat. “Thanks! I don’t think I’ll need it, but thanks anyhow!” He was wearing a purple suit that matched Violetta’s dress exactly, with a purple and blue tie and a blue pocket square. The blue was Wulfenbach blue. Don’t say a thing. Let him pine on his own. He idly adjusted his cufflinks.
“So, Zeetha, who’s getting picked up next?” Violetta asked, fiddling with her amethyst necklace.
Zeetha smiled. “Gil, of course.”
“If he’s in anything other than green, blue, and purple, it’ll be a miracle,” Tarvek muttered.
“Oh, Tarvek!” Zeetha giggled. “Don’t worry. I made sure he got a suit. It’s black, with a cream shirt and a red tie and pocket square. It matches Bang perfectly!”
Tarvek breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, Zeetha. A weight has truly been lifted off my shoulder.”
Bang suddenly realized that the beads on her dress were the same shade of red as Tarvek’s hair.
At Wulfenbach’s, Gil leapt out of the house in the suit Zeetha had bought for him, bounding into the car like an excitable puppy. He flopped down next to Bang, who noted that his new shoes were scuffed up already. Tarvek saw the exact same thing and tossed some black shoe polish towards Gil.
“You’ll need to open the window while applying that,” Tarvek said.
“You had this on you?” Gil asked, incredulous.
Tarvek shrugged. “A well groomed man is always prepared… your cuffs are sewn together, aren’t they?”
“It’s better that than Gil losing a cufflink again!” Zeetha retorted. “Remember when he did that in front of Queen Albia? The Baron was embarrassed for years.”
“Hey,” Gil rolled his eyes. “I’m not the one who showed up in traditional Skifandrian attire to the wedding of one of Albia’s daughters and nearly gave her a heart attack.”
The siblings looked like they were about to punch each other for a second, but the situation defused itself. Good, that’s one more time I won’t have to patch up Gil’s outfit tonight. Zeetha slouched back in her seat as Gil rested his right leg on his left.
“Who’s next?” Violetta eagerly asked.
Zeetha tensed. “I hate to do this,” she said, “but please keep this under wraps. He’s a Jager.”
“What?” Gil turned to his sister. “Dad’s going to kill you! And how did you let the prom committee to give a guest pass to a Jager?”
She twiddled her thumbs. “I pulled some strings, and Dad doesn’t need to know about it. For what it’s worth, Mom approved. He’s a nice guy, not any fangier than I am, just, y’know, immortal. I met him at the MMA gym.” She sighed. “His name’s Axel Higgs.”
The car was silent.
“Zeetha has a boyfriend! Good job, girl!” Violetta yelled.
The mysterious Axel Higgs was picked up outside a defense contractor’s office headquarters. His suit was a distinguished ecru, with a pale golden shirt and a green tie and pocket square. He carried himself with an air of dignity and refinement. A man of many hats.
Nobody said anything when he entered the limo. He smiled at them. No fangs. He sat next to Zeetha, who silently wrapped an arm around him.
“Should we, uh, do introductions?” Bang asked.
Zeetha grinned a fangy smile. “Yeah, sure! Do you want to start?”
“Okay,” Bang said. “I’m Bang Dupree. It’s short for Bangladesh. I met Zeetha last year, I think, at a karate tournament. Our match was a draw because the refs stopped us before one of us killed the other.”
“Gil Wulfenbach, short for Gilgamesh. I’m Zeetha’s long-lost twin brother. Our parents are divorced, so I’m stuck living with our dad, who’s some high-up in the defense industry.”
“Violetta Mondarev. I met Zeetha in our film class. We were watching The Princess Bride and we bonded over the inaccuracies in the fight scenes and the poisoning scene.”
“Tarvek Sturmvoraus, Violetta’s cousin. I’m not really all that close with Zeetha — I’m a friend of Gil’s and I’m close with my cousin, so I run into her a lot, but we’ve never really hung out.” Gil blushed at “friend”.
“Axel Higgs, Zeetha’s boyfriend and Jager. I wish I could tell you more about me, but that’s unfortunately classified information.”
Violetta and Tarvek were waltzing respectably well. He’s an excellent dancer — of course he is — and she’d learned from him. She was holding her skirt up just right, and when she twirled, it was glorious. Tarvek’s pince-nez gave them the general impression of being a relic from the Victorian era.
Colette and Xerxesphina were dancing quite well, too. They were enjoying the quick tempo of the Viennese waltz, taking advantage of it to twirl about the dance floor in a modified grapevine step. This was neatly avoiding the question of who was really in the lead.
Zeetha and Higgs were in such a close embrace that it was a surprise they were able to move at all, but moving they were. Their technique was subpar, particularly when compared to Tarvek’s meticulous footwork, but they were in tune with each other in a way that almost no other couple was.
Gil and Bang, on the other hand, were miserably failing at dancing. It wasn’t just the waltz. The saraband had been such a disaster that Tarvek had broken etiquette to whisk Bang off to dance with her while Violetta attempted to instill the basics in Gil. It didn’t help matters that Gil seemed to have two left feet.
“I hate this,” she whispered.
“I know,” he hissed back. “Could you at least try a bit harder?”
“Why should I keep trying when you’re the one who’s blundering the moves?”
Gil looked like he was ten seconds away from being arrested for attempted murder. “How about you think of this as a monster you want to kill?”
“Already trying,” she said. And it’s not working.
Later, they were all taking a break from dancing. Colette and Xerxesphina had gone off to “brush up their makeup”. More like “brush up on making out”. Tarvek was fixing his tie knot — his Eldredge had become asymmetrical, and he couldn’t stand it anymore. Gil and Higgs were enjoying discussing Jager history.
This meant that Bang, Violetta, and Zeetha were sitting at a table, drinking Arnold Palmers and munching on cake, chatting a little bit as they pleased to. Zeetha was a bit pissed that her brother was monopolizing her boyfriend (“especially since he’s got his own boyfriend here, too”), while Violetta was complaining about how sore her feet were (“with him, it’s always aesthetic over function, and it’s not like he’s ever tried dancing in these shoes”). Bang was just fiddling with her straw, listening to her friends.
She was also the first one to notice the monster when it came crashing through the ceiling.
“Guys. Look.” She gently shoved Violetta and Zeetha. “Is that just me, or is that something we can fight?”
“Oh yeah,” Zeetha’s eyes glazed over as their classmates began screaming. “Let’s go fight this thing.” She snatched one of Violetta’s shoes and snapped the heel off. “It’s improvised weapons time!”
Violetta took her other shoe and snapped its heel off, while Bang took an entire table leg. Zeetha passed the other heel to Violetta to grab an entire chair. Violetta complemented her heels by taking a hair pin out of a nearby dancer’s coiffure.
The Fighting Girls Tea and Cake Society started running after the monster, ready to take it down.
Maybe formal dances aren’t all so bad.
Read on AO3.
#girl genius#my fanfic#girl genius event week#may 24 prompt#bang dupree#zeetha#violetta mondarev#gil wulfenbach#tarvek sturmvoraus#axel higgs#fighting girls tea and cake society#prom au
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this rose dress has big erik vibes! :D
especially your vibes, rewrite erik ;)
#it's like a musical red death dress! :D#and it's so erik's style! ;)#rewrite erik would probably get it for his kristin disguise but we all know who it's really for... ;)#honestly he'd rock this! (especially with red rouge!)#and the bodice comes off so he could so wear it as a fancy shirt ;)#he thinks women's fashion is the coolest thing besides music and that's definitely cool! :D#he would absolutely be in awe over this dress! :D#and all dresses honestly ;)#edit: omg there's a tag on the dress that says '27 boul. haussmann' AND THAT'S A STREET AWAY FROM PALAIS GARNIER :o#rue gluck is one of the 4 streets surrounding it and haussmann is right across from that!#société générale's headquarters is on 29 boulevard haussmann so a clothing shop was right next door!#it's just like the old salle le peletier building situation where two businesses are in one building#the tag also says 'leroyer & ducas' so it must've been their shop#the dress is from 1879 so i wonder if the shop was around a decade later! ;)#fancy dresses like this were sold in second hand shops in the les halles neighborhood#that's only 10 minutes away from nadir's apartment on rue rivoli! :o#so there's a possible story of how erik and christine found the dress ;)
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To Call Forth Love - Chapter 9
Yay! Next chapter! True confessions, this *sorta* slow burn is killing me....and i’m the one writing it! (sorry not sorry?)
Warnings: some swearing, nothing really, Hvitserk being a good bro?
Words:7100 (I hope these longer chapters make up for the wait)
Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe
Series Masterlist
The ringing of her phone had Kari dropping the leggings she was folding on her bed to quickly snatch it up.
"Albus!"
The voice on the other end sighed. "You know I hate that nickname."
Kari laughed, picking the leggings back up to fold. "But it fits you so perfectly."
"I am not an old wizard."
"I'll give you that, but you're studious, kind and too wise for someone your age. So close enough."
"I suppose if I haven't been able to convince you to drop that nickname for the past ten years, I won't be able to now."
"Nope." She cheerfully said. "So, how are you? Your mother still wreaking havoc in your life?"
"She set me up on a date last week." He grumbled after a moment's hesitation.
In her mind, she could imagine him sitting at his desk with a slight furrow between his brows and lips pursed as he lamented his mother's involvement in his love life. This would not be the first time he complained to Kari about this topic. "Ohhhh? How did that go?" She asked, even if by his tone she could already guess his answer.
"I know my mother means well, but the women she thinks I should date…." He trailed off with a forlorn sigh.
"Not your type?"
"No."
"I'm sorry. You'll find someone and your mother won't be able to help but love them."
He snorted inelegantly. "I won't hold my breath for that."
"See, you're so wise." She teased, smiling as she folded a work shirt. "Now, what else is new since last month?"
The two spent the next hour talking. It had become their tradition after she moved. Hearing the gentle cadence in his voice, his quiet chuckles, it sent a wave of nostalgia washing over her. He was the only person from England she still kept in communication with, the only one who knew where she was. The last string tying her to her prior life. Although she would not have labeled him her best friend, they were certainly close and even more so after she moved. In their monthly conversations, they would chat about anything new in their lives, TV shows watched, books read, his latest exams in university. He always made sure to inform her what he knew about her family. Something she was grateful for but it always felt like a knife to the heart after.
As they talked, she finished folding her laundry, a necessary evil in her opinion. Once done with that, she moved on to the package she received in the mail today. It was addressed to her but the sender was a designer name she would never be able to afford in her lifetime. She shook her head, wondering what surprise the youngest Lothbrok had bought for her.
Listening to him regale her with the latest family drama of his, she opened the package and had to muffle a gasp at the two dresses that lay inside. The first was an off-the-shoulder, black skater dress that would reach mid-thigh in length. It was a classy and elegant cocktail dress that reminded her of the dress she wore on her and Ivar's "date" but way more sophisticated and stylish. It was the second dress that made her pause and wonder where Ivar thought she would ever wear something like this. It was a deep red evening gown, the hem long enough to trail slightly on the ground. The dress was gorgeous with a tight bodice and slight flair of the skirt. It was the slit in the skirt that touched her upper thigh and the sheer middle of the bodice that made Kari raise her eyebrows. The gown was the perfect blend of chic and sexy. What was Ivar thinking? She would feel so self-conscious and she never went anywhere fancy enough to wear it. Though as she stared at both dresses, she decided it never hurt to admire them on the hanger, even if she never got the chance to wear them. As her friend continued speaking, she hung both dresses up in her closet, making a mental note to talk to Ivar.
"It's probably good your brother moved out last year." She commented, tucking her laundry basket away in her closet.
"Yeah. He only comes over to the house if he has to." He said with a resigned sigh. After a long moment of silence, he spoke up again. His voice hesitant, almost remorseful, as what had been obviously on the tip of his tongue finally came forth. "Your mother has been talking about trying to find you again."
Kari froze, her mind shorting out and heart rate skyrocketing as his statement sunk in. "What…. what did she say?"
"Not much that I overheard." He confessed, sympathy in each word. "How much she misses her only daughter and feels abandoned by you. She has been telling people that you're doing charity work in another country when they ask about you."
"It's been almost two years… I hoped…" She slumped onto her bed, legs wobbling and mind whirling.
"That your mother would forget about you?"
"I don't know. I just…. I don't know."
Silence reigned for a moment before he spoke again.
"Are you ever coming home?"
"I…. I don't think that's home anymore."
"I miss you." He whispered.
Tears welled in her eyes. She took a deep breath forcing them back, but knew her shaky voice betrayed her. "I miss you too. Maybe you can come visit me here?"
"That would blow your cover."
"Could we meet up somewhere? You take a vacation or something?"
"I'll consider it…." His voice trailed off, only to come back stronger. "You know, when you wanted help to leave England, I thought it was just a temporary reprieve. I didn't imagine you would stay away."
It felt like a knife twisted in her gut, because he was right. She had never thought she would be gone this long. "I know…. I just…. I like my life here. I don't…. I don't want to go back to that."
He sighed as if giving up on convincing her to return. "I understand. I'll always be here for you. I still think of you as one of my closest friends."
"Same. We've known each other since we were thirteen. A few countries between us isn't going to stop that."
He chuckled. "Right. Well, I'll still hold you to your promise. If we're both unmarried by thirty-five, we'll have a courthouse wedding to keep our families off our backs."
"Sounds good." She laughed out, wiping the tears from her eyes.
"I have to go. I'll text you about when we can catch up next month."
"Perfect. Stay safe, Albus."
"You too, Abs."
"Ugh! That nickname is worse than yours!" She groaned, hearing a small chuckle on the other end of the phone. "Bye!"
After hanging up, she stared at her phone for a minute, the smile fading as her mind revisited the conversation. The weight of everything slammed into her, her body no longer able to support her under the strength of her duress. She crumpled onto her bed, curling into a fetal position, tears streaming down her cheeks. It hurt that England no longer felt like home to her, but neither did where she currently lived. What hurt and confused her most, was when she thought of being home- Ivar's face filled her mind's eye.
*****
"Thank you everyone for coming to class today. I'll see you either tomorrow or next week."
With the lights still dim, Kari turned off the soothing water music over the speakers in the yoga studio room. The women who had been laying in corpse pose on their mats began to rise and gather up their personal items. A quiet murmur of voices replaced the music in the enclosed room. She waved at a few of the regulars as they left her class. Even if she was not the one doing all the poses, by the end of class she still felt refreshed and rejuvenated. It always brought her joy to see people come in, stressed or anxious, and leave her class with a smile on their faces or just looking less tense.
Through the mirrors along the wall at the front of the room, she could see the tall, statuesque blonde making her way over, yoga mat tucked under her arm.
"Hey, you doing anything for lunch?" Gyda asked, coming up beside her. Even in leggings and a tight tank top, she looked like someone off the covers of a women's magazine. All Kari could figure was it was in the Lothbrok blood.
"Um, working on inventory?"
"How about instead you come out to lunch with us?" She motioned vaguely towards Torvi, who was gathering up her yoga mat. "We planned on stopping at that new boutique down the strip. So, we can just meet you for lunch when you're done."
"Really?" The brunette was startled by the offer. Sure, she had gone out with Gyda a few times but never with Torvi too. The three would chat occasionally before or after class and she liked Torvi's no-nonsense attitude. They had flippantly made comments about the three of them going out but to actually hear they wanted her presence both surprised and warmed her heart. "Torvi is okay with this too?"
Gyda rolled her eyes. "Yes. So…. Yes? No? Don't leave me in suspense."
"Yeah, I'd love to."
"Great. Text me when you're done and we'll meet up."
"It'll be at least half an hour…."
Gyda waved her off, her voice growing louder. "That's fine. Torvi takes forever when she browses anyway."
"Sorry, I like to think through my purchases before I buy something!"
Kari smiled at Torvi's retort. The other blonde was checking her phone, a smile on her face though as she peered up at her sister-in-law and her yoga instructor.
"Are you joining us?" She called over.
"Of course, she is!" Gyda replied, before Kari could respond. "But she's only coming if you swear not to share any stories about you and Bjorn's kinky sex life. Nobody wants to hear that."
Without a word, Torvi gave her the middle finger salute, before looking back down at her phone.
Gyda chuckled then turned to raise an eyebrow at the shorter woman. "Unless you're into that kind of stuff…."
"Oh gods, Gyda! No!" Her face flushed at the thought.
"Hey, it's the quiet ones who are the kinkiest. I bet Ivar would like that." She laughed as Kari tried to swat at her. Taking a step back, she pretended to zip her lips. "Don't worry, your secret's safe with me. Text me when you're done! We can meet at the café down the street. "
Kari waved at Torvi as the two blondes walked out of the studio room. Quickly, she hurried to finish tidying up. It had been a long time since she felt this excited to go out to eat with some female friends. A handful of times she had gone out with some coworkers or Lydia. In the beginning she was excited when Alana would invite her out with her friends to a club or bar but Kari quickly learned that was not her scene and began making every excuse possible to not be forced out with them. She always felt like an afterthought amongst the group, especially since getting drunk nor sleeping around was not her style. This time, she had high hopes for spending time with Gyda and Torvi. It would be nice to have female friends again.
The door to the studio room opened and Lydia popped her head in. "Almost done? You've got a visitor out here and he's causing quite the distraction." She said with a distinct shit-eating grin and wink before ducking back out.
"He?" Kari questioned out loud, although her mind suspected who it was. He was the only one who ever visited her. Slipping her phone into the pocket of her maroon leggings, she gave the room one final survey, wanting it to be ready for the next class before she left. With a nod, she headed out, the door swinging shut behind her.
In the large open area, she understood what Lydia meant by 'causing quite the distraction'. If she paused for a moment to drink the sight in, no one could possibly know, right?
Ivar leaned his shoulder against a wall, arms crossed over his chest with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to display his toned forearms. His dark locks were pulled back loosely in a man-bun, a few tendrils slipped free. Even in jeans, braces and smart-looking leather shoes, he looked quite handsome. With no cane in sight, it must be a good day.
Kari noticed more than one pair of eyes lingering on him from around the studio although he did not seem to notice as he stood there talking with Gyda and Torvi in hushed tones. The latter said something that immediately caused Ivar to narrow his eyes at her as he snapped a comment.
Even from across the room, Kari could read the tension in his frame and decided to intervene before he caused a scene. Walking over to them, aware of the many sets of eyes upon the group of three, she fixed a smile on her face. Once those intense, blue eyes locked onto her and his posture softened marginally, her smile transitioned into a genuine grin. "Hey, Ivar, what are you doing here?" She asked, coming to stand between him and Gyda.
"Do I need a reason to come see you?" He smirked down at her.
That look released butterflies in her stomach but she ignored them to tease him back. "Usually that's how it works."
"And if that reason is to fulfill my quota?"
The blush that rose to her cheeks was so hot, she wondered if you could fry an egg on her face. Immediately, she dropped her chin to her chest, willing the warmth to vanish.
"Hmmm…. that blush for me, kattungen?" He shifted closer so his mouth was near her ear, his question asked in such a lecherous tone, Kari felt her core clench.
"Shut up." She mumbled, pushing him away. He rocked back on his heels, a smug grin on his face, and an amused chuckle leaving his lips.
Gyda patted Kari's shoulder, drawing the brunette's attention upward again. "Text me when you're done. We'll leave you with this grumpy asshole. I'm sure you can think of a way to cheer him up." She winked as she took a step away.
For a moment, Kari wished the ground would open up beneath her. Between Gyda's teasing comments and Ivar's blatant remarks and heated looks, Kari's face was going to be permanently red in an endless flush.
"Good luck on your trip, Ivar." Torvi called over her shoulder as she followed Gyda.
"Oi! Tell Bjorn to keep his big fucking mouth shut!" He yelled after the blondes; the tension returned with Torvi's parting statement. Glaring at the door the two women passed through, he muttered something in a foreign language as he rubbed his hand over his mouth. Briefly, his thoughts seemed to take him elsewhere but he quickly snapped back, blue eyes finding Kari once again.
It was only something she had realized lately, but when he looked at her, that consuming and burning gaze landing on her with all the impact of a sledgehammer, it made her feel like the only woman in the room. It was such a cliché thing, something stupid out of a romance novel, but it was the only way she could describe the feeling. When he looked at her like this, nothing else mattered in the room. She had his whole attention, all his focus. It was heady and powerful and terrifying and astounding. The weight of others watching made her skin itch but with his gaze locked on hers, lips tilted up slightly in the hint of a fond smile, she felt in the eye of a hurricane.
Her blue-green eyes dropped to his chest, unable to maintain eye contact when it left her feeling so flustered. Tugging on her earlobe, she quietly asked. "What are you doing here? I thought I wasn't seeing you until you picked me up for dinner tonight?"
"Something came up." Silently, he reached over and grasped her hand, causing her head to jerk up. Intertwining their fingers, he watched her with regret in his eyes. "I have to fly out to Italy in two hours."
"Oh. Is everything okay?" That was not what she had expected to hear. Her heart plummeted that their dinner would have to be canceled but tried not to let it show.
"Is there somewhere we can talk in private?"
"Um, sure." Emotions flickering between curiosity and concern, she guided him back to the studio room. The weight of eyes lingered as they walked, especially since he refused to release her hand. A brief glance at the front counter, only to see Lydia and Sasha both staring at her with amused and proud smiles, had Kari trying to hurry out of sight with Ivar in tow.
Soon as the door shut behind them, hiding them from view, he pulled her against his body, one arm wrapping around her waist, trapping her against him while the other hand gripped the back of her neck. He kissed her passionately, like a man dying of thirst and only she could save him.
"Ivar…." She tried to pull away, aware she was at work and anyone could walk in. Instead, he held her tighter, molding her body to his. The drugging kiss that followed had her all but melting against him, knees weak and her resolve disappearing like smoke in the wind. When she opened her mouth, inviting his tongue to dance with hers, the growl that erupted from him was so thready and rough, it called to a primal part of her, making her warm all over and a tightness grow in her belly.
It had been two days since they had seen each other and she genuinely missed him. They had been texting during that time, but it was not the same. She missed his presence, his touch, his kisses, his grumpy comments and the way he made her laugh. Even when he annoyed or frustrated her, he still was the color in her otherwise monochromatic world. And with each day that passed, her desire to push him away fractured a little bit more.
When their mouths finally unlocked, both panting and lips swollen and red, she was almost shocked the nearby mirrors were not fogged up. Breathless and overwhelmed, she pressed her forehead to his, her arms around his neck. For a minute they stood there peacefully, only the sounds of their ragged breathing and the occasional noise from those outside of the studio room broke through their tranquility.
"What's going on, Ivar?"
"Something with work."
"Does this have to do with why you've been so busy?"
He sighed but when he spoke in a hushed tone, the rage painting each word was undeniable. "Someone on the inside has been selling information about us." She gasped, shocked but when she tried to pull away to look at him, he tugged her back against him, placing his chin on the top of her head. "I think I know who the fucker is."
"That's why you're going to Italy?"
"Hmmm."
"Will you be safe?"
That made him chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you worried about me?"
She thought about making a joke, about teasing him about his recklessness. Instead the question knocked the air from her lungs momentarily, because the truth was, she was. What little she had gleaned about his work when he needed to vent, there was still an element of danger to it. She tipped her face up to look at him, her answer a quiet murmur that did nothing to hide the emotion behind her words. "Yes…. I don't know what I'd do if you got hurt."
The amusement in his eyes drained to be replaced with a softness that made her heart clench. He inhaled sharply and glanced away for a moment. "Fuck, kitten…." When he turned back, he kissed her tenderly, a slow melding of their mouths like the taste of her was a fine wine he wanted to sip on endlessly. There was a promise in his action, just as much as his words when he finally whispered against her lips. "I'll be safe, just meeting with a contact. That's all."
"Okay, just please be careful." Worry still tainted her, but she trusted Ivar to keep himself safe. He had been doing this job far longer than she had known him.
"Don't tell anyone about what I've said. No one else knows."
"I promise. Not a word."
"Good girl." He swatted her ass, making her squeak and glare up at him. "I'm going to have Hvitserk check up on you later."
"That's not necessary." She tried to say. She would hate to be a waste of time for the older Lothbrok. The look he gave her said to not argue with him. "Fine," she dramatically sighed, "maybe him and I will watch movies and cuddle since you're soooo busy. I wonder if he'd think my bed is comfy enough or if the couch is better?"
"Don't you fucking dare." He growled, gripping her waist in a possessive hold.
She just laughed at how easy he was to wind up. It was mean and she knew it.
He nipped at her bottom lip. "Keep playing, Kari and I'll have to punish you."
"I have no idea what you're talking about." She batted her lashes at him, failing to suppress a childish giggle.
He rolled his eyes, the twitch of his lips betrayed his amusement. "I need to go." He softly said though he made no move to release her from his arms.
With that a wave of worry and fear cascaded over her, it was unfounded she knew, but it still threatened to drag her into its depths. Not giving it a second thought, she raised up on her toes to plant a lingering kiss on his lips.
"You're not helping." He muttered, never removing his mouth from hers.
"Maybe take the next flight?"
"Don't tempt me, vixen. I'll lock that door and have my wicked way with you right fucking here until everyone hears you screaming my name."
Between the image he painted in her mind and his mouth having moved to her pulse point, heated arousal pooled between her legs. She gulped, her mouth suddenly dry and words sticking to her throat.
He leaned back, a devious smirk on his lips at her obviously flushed face. "No, my priestess," he purred, a filthy, predatory glint in his blue eyes, she could not help but gasp as her knees threatened to buckle under her. "When I finally have you, it'll be somewhere I can both worship you and fuck you all night long without fear of being interrupted."
She let out a shaky breath. "But, um…. we…. ah."
"Soon, Vakker, blir du min." He kissed her roughly, as if sealing his words. "I do need to leave. Walk with me." He took her hand, leading her out of the studio room, giving her no choice but to walk beside him. Not that her brain was fully able to make coherent decisions at the moment.
As they walked towards the front of the building, she wondered if their make-out session was obvious. Her lips felt red and swollen and a blush still colored her cheeks. A glance at Ivar showed his lips fuller but he appeared so calm and collected it was unfair.
"Did you like the dresses?" He asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"I do. They both are gorgeous, but they're too much. I don't have a reason to dress up that fancy."
"With me, you will. I'll get you some casual dresses too."
"Ivar…." She whined.
"You need more clothes, Kari."
"Fine. Not because I want more clothes but because I know you'll buy them for me anyway."
He winked at her, his tone smug. "I always get my way."
"You're unbelievable."
They stopped beside his SUV, parked next to the sidewalk. His driver was already in the driver's seat waiting. Kari made sure to wave at the man, earning a nod back from him. The driver was a huge guy with long, thick locks of white hair and a scar on his face. He intimidated Kari but she tried to ignore that and be friendly. Even if Ivar made fun of her for it.
"I should be back tomorrow unless some shit comes up." Ivar stated, opening the back door.
"Okay. Be safe."
"Stop worrying. Shit. I'll be fine." He remarked, sliding into his seat. Before he closed the door, he met her gaze. "I'll text you."
She smiled in acknowledgment and stepped back, giving him a quick wave as she headed back inside and his SUV started off.
Lydia leaned against the front counter with Sasha and Alicia now, all three watching her with expressions ranging from amused to shocked.
"Um, I'm going to…. go on my lunch break now." She mumbled and hurried away to grab her purse from the office, the sounds of laughter following her.
The stray thought crossed her mind that she would need some new bras if Ivar was set on buying her new clothes. Not that he would see those bras, but it would be good to have…. and maybe some matching panties.
*****
Summer was transitioning to fall, cool undertones intermixed with the residual warmth of a September evening.
Kari stared at the book in her lap but the words blurred together no matter how many times she reread the same line. She loved reading outside, sitting on the small patio behind the townhouse, especially when none of the neighbors were out. She could pretend it was her own place of solace, being out in nature. The sunlight shined through the line of pine trees separating their row of townhouses from the ones behind them, bird songs mixed with the sound of traffic from the nearby roads. She much preferred this too being stuck indoors.
Today though, her mind drifted like the breeze, but it all centered on a conversation she had not even ten minutes ago. If she listened closely, she could hear Alana through the screen door, making her dinner in the kitchen. She knew it was not Alana's fault, but the conversation still felt like a rug had been yanked from underneath the brunette. With everything going so well in her life, of course fate had to throw her a curveball.
Now her mind scrambled as what to do next.
A sound from her left had her glance over to see Erik stepping out of his back door. A boyish grin lit up his face when he saw her.
"Hi, Kari. Beautiful evening, isn't it?"
"Yeah. It is." She gave a half-hearted smile, watching as he closed the door behind him and stepped closer.
"Mind if I join you?"
She waved a hand at the patio set. "Not at all." Hopefully talking with Erik would be the distraction she needed for the moment, to pull her out of her quagmire of thoughts.
Dropping onto the cushioned chair to her left, he ran a hand through his dirty blond hair. In jeans and a t-shirt, he appeared ready to relax for the evening.
"What are you reading this time?" He asked curiously. This would not be the first time he had found her outside reading.
She reclined on the two-person, cushioned couch, legs up and bent with her open book resting against her thighs, wearing her typical leggings and slouchy shirt. At his question, she flashed him the cover. "The Princess Bride."
"Isn't that a movie?"
She pretended to gasp in horror. "Yes, but the book is still a classic."
He raised his hands in surrender, grin spreading across his face. ���If you say. Not really my taste. So how was your day?"
"Nothing exciting. Yours?"
"The usual. Customers thinking they could do my job better than me."
She winced. "I know the feeling."
They made small talk for some time, talking about work and a documentary he recommended for her to watch. They argued which was the better coffee shop nearby, something they continuously disagreed on. Soon the upsetting conversation with Alana drifted to the back of her mind. It did not take long for her to close her book and set it on the ground so she could be fully invested in the conversation, especially when Erik became so animated about a topic, his hands waving around like a conductor in his enthusiasm. It was an endearing trait of his, but also alerted her to settle in because it meant he would not need much encouragement to keep talking.
The opening of the sliding door behind Kari stunted their conversation.
"Kari, someone is here for you." Alana said sweetly, stepping out onto the patio.
Unsure what she meant and since Kari never had visitors except for Ivar, she finally turned around. Only to be met with the view of Hvitserk leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his lips. Standing there looking quite handsome in a dark navy business suit with a white undershirt, sans tie. Even his hair was nicely pleated back, making him look very professional and attractive.
"What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise, wondering if he just got off work.
Pushing off the doorframe, he meandered past Alana to approach Kari's side. "I came to check on you." He answered easily then scooped her up like she weighed nothing, making her squeal, and casually resettled them on the couch. Now he sat where she had been with her tucked against his side and his arm behind her. She also noticed how he purposefully put himself between her and Erik but chose not to comment on that.
"Ivar sent you, didn't he?" She grumbled, poking Hvitserk in the chest. "I told him it wasn't necessary."
"Well, you know him." He shrugged, that teasing smirk still adorning his lips. When she tried to poke him again, he snatched her hand and held it hostage, even as she tried to tug it back. Ignoring her, he turned his attention to Erik. "Hey, man. I'm Hvitserk."
"I'm Erik. I live next door." He responded warily, eyeing up the man as if debating to be friendly or not.
"Ah." With that understanding, Hvitserk seemed to give Erik a more assessing look before peering down at Kari. "You eat dinner yet?"
"Sorta. I'm not too hungry."
Alana spoke up from leaning against the other chair. "If you're hungry we can order something, Hvitserk. It's not a big deal."
Kari's head whipped around to stare at her roommate in shock. Never had Alana played the hostess to Kari or anyone she knew. Then she really noticed the coquettish look of her roommate- the fluttering lashes, the sensual biting of her bottom lip in mock innocence, the way she casually leaned against the chair in a way to best highlight the curves of her body. Kari wanted to sigh. Of course, the only reason Alana pretended to care was to try and entice Hvitserk. An attractive man in their home, it was as if Alana could not help herself.
Apparently the flaxen-haired Lothbrok noticed her flirtatious manner also. He tipped his head, eyes blatantly tracing over her body with appreciation. Kari could see the blonde preening under Hvitserk's gaze.
"Did I fuck you?"
What confident, amorous expression on Alana's face dropped in a second. "Excuse me?"
Hvitserk waved a hand dismissively. "Sorry, you seem familiar but I can't remember…. Did you fuck one of my brothers?"
Anger transformed her face, making her rigid and lip curled back in a snarl. "Fuck you, asshole." She shrieked, then stormed back inside, slamming the door shut.
He chuckled. "Huh. I take that as a yes…. ouch!"
Kari slapped his chest. "That was extremely rude and insensitive."
"Why? Because it's the truth?"
"You can't just…. ask something like that." She turned to look at the closed door, wondering if she should go apologize to Alana and check on her. After a moment's debate, she turned away from the townhouse, figuring seeking out Alana would most likely end up with a door slammed in her face.
Hvitserk shrugged, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking it before slipping it back in.
His nonchalance baffled Kari. Did he not care that he just humiliated her roommate? Should she make him apologize? Though she doubted he would. Finally, she settled for just muttering, "you Lothbroks are unbelievable."
"Oh, are you related to…." Erik's question trailed off. Where he once had been relaxed back in the cushioned chair, now he sat tensely, one of his hands tapping his knee repeatedly.
"Ivar? Yeah, he's my brother." Hvitserk said with a knowing smirk.
"He's, um…"
"A crazy, mad bastard? Yeah. Don't recommend getting on his bad side."
"I was going to say intense."
Hvitserk threw his head back as he laughed. Even Kari smiled at the hesitant way Erik answered. Intense was an understatement for the youngest Lothbrok. "Yeah, he's family."
Erik then motioned between Kari and Hvitserk. "So are you two…. just friends?"
Before Kari could explain, Hvitserk jumped in to answer.
"Ivar and I share her."
Immediately Kari choked on air due to his candid response. Her gaze darted to Erik in horror, seeing his jaw dropped and eyes wide as saucers. Beside her Hvitserk cackled like a hyena at both of their expressions.
"That's not…. ugh! No!" Kari tried to speak, once she could functionally breathe again, only to cover her face as her words tumbled out of her mouth inelegantly.
"Awww, come on, Kari. You know I'm teasing." The elder Lothbrok tugged her hands away from her face, which only caused her to bury her face in his shoulder. "We know Ivar doesn't share. But if you ever get tired of his cranky ass, I'll be more than willing to show you a good time."
"Oh my god." She mumbled to herself, completely mortified. The evening had been going so well, and now…. all of this. Whose grave had she accidently stepped on today?
Erik awkwardly cleared his throat as he rose to his feet. "Um, I'm going to go."
"I'm so sorry, Erik." She elbowed Hvitserk when he refused to release her hands, earning an 'oof' from him. Turning her body to give Erik her full attention, she continued, hoping this had not ruined their friendship or his night. "I know this is last minute but do you think you can give me a ride to work tomorrow? If you don't want to, that's fine, especially after all of this, I wouldn't blame you."
"No, no. I mean, sure. It's not a problem. Just, ah, text me when you're ready."
She smiled gratefully at him. "I will. Have a good night, Erik!"
"You too, Kari." He gave her his signature boyish grin. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he looked at Hvitserk. "Nice meeting you."
"Yeah, nice meeting you too." He said back, draping his arm once again behind Kari.
Erik gave Kari another brief smile before disappearing back inside his townhouse, the door sliding quietly shut behind him.
Hvitserk continued to stare where Erik disappeared for a long minute before muttering, "boy better watch himself."
"What are you talking about?" She sighed out, feeling the lurking sensation of a stress headache coming on.
"He wants to fuck you. Ivar won't like that."
"What is with…. No. I'm ignoring all of that." She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "Ugh, my evening was going so well until an hour ago."
"What happened? That guy showed up to bother you? Want me to tell him to lay off?" His questions came out in rapid-fire, concern infused in his voice.
"No, Erik is fine. It's …. it's nothing like that."
"So, what happened?"
"Nothing important. Have you heard from Ivar?"
He raised a brow at her dismissal but changed the subject. "Yeah, looks like he got what he needed so he'll be back tomorrow morning."
"Oh good."
"Hmmm…. which means he'll want to take you out tomorrow."
"He bought me some dresses." She softly confessed, fiddling with her diamond stud earring.
"I'd recommend wearing one of those."
She swatted at him, only to mirror the easy grin on his face. After a moment, she asked, "I just…. is it weird for him to do that?"
"What?"
"Buy me stuff."
"Does it bother you?"
"I don't know."
"If you want my advice, I'd say to let him." He lifted a finger to silence her protest. Her mouth snapped shut at his pointed look. Once he was sure she would not interrupt him, he spoke. "Ivar has never been good with…. verbally expressing affection, something I am sure he learned from our father. So he buys gifts, something he can touch and control. If he's buying you gifts, not out of obligation but because he wants to spoil you, then you mean a lot to him."
She pondered his words and how she felt about them. Never did she want Ivar to feel taken advantage of by her, especially in regards to his money. She would rather tear her own heart out than make him feel used again. It grated slightly how freely he wasted money on her. The dresses were lovely, something she could only dream of having with her current salary. But she worked hard for her life, to be independent. Even whenever they went out to eat together, he never let her pay for her own meal. She had given up that fight already but this…. It felt different. Yet what Hvitserk said slunk back to the forefront of her mind. If this was his way of showing affection, of letting her know he cared about her, would it do more damage to refuse his gift?
"How did you become so insightful into Ivar?" She teased, deciding to think about this more later.
He laughed, flicking her ear with the hand he still had behind her. "Out of necessity. I don't think anyone can fully understand him, not even himself."
"He's complex." She agreed.
"That's a nice way of putting it." He tipped his head to the side to meet her gaze. "Now, tell me what happened earlier."
"You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Ivar told me to check on you. If I left you trying to hide tears and he found out, he'd probably break my hands or legs, not sure how particular he would be."
Biting her bottom lip, she debated blowing him off again. It was not his problem, she could deal with her own issues. But there was something about Hvitserk that made her feel comfortable around him. Even though he was under no obligation, he seemed to actually care about her.
Finally, she gave in with a sigh, laying her head against his shoulder. "Alana said…. Um, this townhouse belongs to her uncle. Him and his family moved into a bigger home and instead of selling this place decided to rent it out for a little extra cash. The rent is minimal, since he isn't renting to really make a profit. It's honestly the only way I've been able to afford being here. Well, Alana told me earlier that he is having to increase our rent. She didn't really tell me why but now it's going to be an extra 300 a month…. and I don't have that. So unless I want to find somewhere new to live, it kind of looks like I need to get a second job."
He waited a moment before flatly stating, "have Ivar pay the extra. Fuck, he'd probably pay your whole rent if you asked him too."
"No! I don't want that!" She sat up so fast, it was a miracle she did not fall off the couch. Her eyes turned to the brother beside her, wide and pleading. "Please don't tell him, Hvitty! I don't want him thinking I'm using him for his money. I…. I need to do this on my own somehow. I'll figure it out, honestly. I just wasn't expecting this to happen, that's all."
"You really don't care about our money, do you?"
"No." It broke her heart a little at the shock in his questioning tone. Did any of them ever expect someone to care about them without the influence of their money?
He stared off into the distance before looking back at her with a solemn expression. "I'll make you a deal. I won't say anything to Ivar about this, but if you are struggling, even if it's just one month's payment, you come to me and I'll help until you get your head above water again, got it?"
"Why would you want to help me?" She quietly asked, meeting his gaze.
He smirked. "I like you. You're genuine. Plus, you're also great for Ivar. I'd like you to stick around and if this is one way to help with that, it's an easy solution." He narrowed his eyes at her as she started to protest again. "Don't fight me on this."
"You Lothbroks are unbelievable. Fine." She laid her head back on his shoulder. "Thank you, Hvitserk…. and thanks for coming to check on me."
"Anytime. You've got my number. Just cause you're Ivar's woman doesn't mean we can't be friends. But my offer still stands, if you get sick of him, I'll be the first to snatch you up."
She laughed, heart feeling lighter than it had all afternoon. "Stop. I'm not Ivar's woman."
"You keep telling yourself that."
They sat quietly for a few minutes, watching the sky change colors.
"Mmmm…."
"What?" She looked up at him.
He peeked down at her with a shit-eating grin. "I still can't remember if I fucked your roommate or not."
"Gods, Hvitserk!"
*****
Before she fell asleep that night, she checked her phone one last time. A jolt of elation shot through her when she saw an unread text from Ivar. Her fingers fumbled with how quickly she tried to unlock her phone to read the text.
Ivar: good nite, kitten. C u 2morrow.
A silly smile on her face, she replied.
Kari: sweet dreams, Ivar.
After that, she plugged in her phone and curled up under her covers. Relief and excitement bled into her veins, allowing her to drift off to sleep with thoughts of the dark-haired Lothbrok coming home to her.
#vikings#MODERN VIKINGS#vikings ivar#vikings fanfiction#vikings fandom#ivar the boneless#ivar ragnarsson#ivar lothbrok#modern ivar#ivar x oc#ivar x ofc#modern!ivar x oc#modern!ivar#ivar's heathen army#Hvitserk#Hvitserk Ragnarsson#hvitserk lothbrok#to call forth love#mzwrites
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plus one ↠ lee minho
genre: friends to lovers, almost-fake dating au (femme reader)
word count: 6.2k
warnings: swearing, suggestive (gets steamy at the end), alcohol consumption
request: yes (anon)
a/n: so this turned out about twice as long as i expected it to . . . there’s a lot to do before you can actually go to a wedding. oh and this includes a guest appearance from park seonghwa of ateez. i promise i think he’s lovely in reality!
✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧
↠↞
You were just sitting down to enjoy a nice cup of tea, which you’d been looking forward to all day, when your phone buzzed. Without even looking at the screen, you already knew who it would be—there was only one person in your life with such uniformly strange timing.
min😼: hey y/n….could you do me a favor?
y/n: ……what do you want, minho….
min😼: so my v e r y rich cousin’s wedding is coming up and i need a plus one. it’s fancy, so they want everyone to partnered up and shit
min😼: and there will be food. it’ll be good bc these are the rich cousins
y/n: oooooh okay, sure! i’m always down for sort of crashing a wedding. when is it?
min😼: it’s next weekend
min😼: shit please tell me you have a fancy dress
y/n: lee minho, are you seriously telling me i have to go buy a fancy dress??
min😼: maybe;;;;
y/n: you’re coming with me and paying for half
min😼: sure, fine with me
y/n: wait seriously? you’re actually gonna do that?
min😼: yeah, why not?
y/n: nvm~
y/n: so should we go dress shopping tomorrow evening?
min😼: sounds good to me! want me to pick you up after i get off work?
y/n: 👉🏼👈🏼 please?
min😼: you’re damn lucky you’re cute.
y/n: see you then!
You closed your phone, still trying to process the fact that you were going to a wedding with Minho. He was a good friend—you’d met a few years ago and had a bit of a love-hate relationship. But ultimately, you agreed that being friends would be much better than not. In the time since, you’d become those kinds of friends who casually held hands, cuddled whenever possible, and shared clothes more than Minho actually realized. (You’d gotten quite good at stealing his t-shirts and sweatpants).
Your friends were convinced the two of you should date but you both just waved them off. Even his family thought you were dating—Minho hadn’t exactly told them they were wrong, though, unbeknownst to you. And now here you were about to go to a wedding with him. When you woke up that morning, you definitely hadn’t been expecting that. But now, you were actually looking forward to what would certainly be a memorable occasion.
Minho picked you up around 5:15 pm and you headed to the mall, circling the parking lot for a few minutes until you found a spot. When you exited the car, the wind blew your hair into your eyes; you heard your traitor of a friend snort as he saw what had happened. Getting your hair back under control, you walked toward the mall entrance. Once inside, you started in the direction of the large department store. But before you could Minho pulled you along with him instead.
At your confused look, he said, “If we’re getting you a dress for a black-tie wedding, then we’re getting you a good quality one.” You opened your mouth to object, thinking of how much it would cost. “No, don’t argue, Y/N.”
Deciding it would be best not to go against Minho when he clearly had a plan, you just closed your mouth and went with it. Minho let go of the fabric of your tank top after several strides, but made sure that you stayed with him—the mall was more crowded than you’d expected. So, after almost losing twice, Minho decided to just go for it and hold your hand. He pulled you close to his side, his hand familiar and reassuring in yours.
You made your way to what you suspected was the most expensive formalwear boutique in the entire mall, feeling self-conscious in your jeans and tank top. The shop attendant, a cheery elderly woman, came hurrying up to you and Minho, fluttering around you rather like a butterfly.
“Hello, I’m Violet! How may I help you all? What’s the special event?” she chirped, giving the two of you what she must have thought was a sly smile.
Crap, you thought, we must look like a couple. Again. You tried to extricate your hand from Minho’s, but he just shifted to lace his fingers with yours and held on tight.
“We’re attending a black-tie wedding,” Minho said, straight to the point as always. “I already have my tuxedo, but Y/N, here, needs a dress. Do you have anything in burgundy?”
You looked at Minho, not expecting him to take the lead in buying a dress, much less choose a color.
“Of course!” said Violet. “Y/N, was it? If you’ll follow me so we can get your measurements and such? Your gentleman friend can wait on the sofa over there.” She pointed to a sleek looking seating area clearly meant for those who accompanied the boutique’s many clients.
“I’d prefer to come back with her and see the dresses,” Minho said, surprising you yet again. The attendant’s smile grew wider as, still holding your hand, Minho walked with you through the maze of evening gowns to the fitting rooms.
“Oh, well, all right,” the elderly woman agreed grudgingly. “But I must insist you stay out of the dressing room. That would simply be one step too far, young man!”
Minho laughed lightly and assured her, “I’ll stay well away, madam. No worries.”
“You had better.” Violet turned to you, holding out a tape measure and a little pad of paper with a miniature pen attached to it. “Have you measured yourself before? Good. Just write it all down and we’ll see what size you need.”
You glanced back at Minho before entering the dressing room—he was leaning against the wall opposite from the Violet, as far from your dressing room as he could get. After a few minutes of wrestling with the tape measure, you emerged and handed over the pad of paper.
“Okay, my dear,” Violet said, “come with me and we’ll see about some styles. What colors, besides burgundy, would you like to try on?”
You thought for a moment, following carefully through the racks upon racks of dresses and suits. “Emerald, black, and teal,” you said before you thought better of saying you’d wear black to a wedding.
Nodding, Violet stopped in front of a long display of gowns that ranged from a deep red that was almost black to the brightest red you’d ever seen. “I’ll just go see what I can find for you, dear,” she said before moving off.
Your eyes darted from dress to dress to dress, the shades and fabrics nearly overwhelming you—you’d never seen so many formal gowns in one place before. Occasionally, you took down a dress to look at it more closely, and soon your arms were weighed down with ten dresses. As you made your way back to the fitting rooms, Violet reappeared carrying five dresses of her own, all in the colors you’d mentioned.
“Now, you just go in there and get these on as best as you can, and I’ll help you with any zippers or ties that you can’t get to.” Violet smiled kindly as she ushered you into the fitting room.
You undressed and slipped the first gown on, trying not to step on the hem, but it was difficult not to. The dressmakers seemed to have assumed that everyone was unusually tall. After straightening the neckline a little and smoothing your hair, you stepped out of the fitting room.
“So, how do you like it?” you asked Minho, who was still lounging against the wall.
“Eh,” he shrugged, “I’m not crazy about the color, but your hips look great.”
“You—” you began, but stopped because you were in public. Now he commenting on your hips! That was a new one. So, you went back to try on another dress. Each of the next five dresses you paraded in front of your friend somehow didn’t live up to whatever expectations he had for your gown.
You sighed and pouted a little after the sixth dress. “Min, what’s wrong with this one? I like it, plus it’s comfortable! And I’m the one wearing it, anyway.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know this side of the family. They expect everything and everyone to be and look perfect.”
“Well, shit,” you grumbled.
“Here,” Minho offered, “I’ll go see if I can find you a dress. Just sit tight for a minute.” Before you could say anything to the contrary, he’d turned and headed into the maze of gowns.
“Your Minho is sweet, offering to find you a dress,” Violet said as she helped you unzip the dress.
“I guess,” you said grudgingly. “I’m not sure he actually knows what to look for, though.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Violet grinned at you in the mirror.
While you waited, you looked back through the dresses you’d already tried on, thinking you’d choose one in case Minho couldn’t find the perfect dress himself. The deep teal dress kept drawing your eye, but you weren’t sure if it was too formal.
“Y/N?” Minho called from outside the fitting room. “Open up so I can give you this dress.”
You took the dress, just barely peaking out from behind the door, and hung it on one of the hooks specifically for the gowns. It was, as you’d suspected, a deep burgundy and not too puffy in the skirt. You weren’t sure about the beading around the bodice, though. But, you’d try it on for Minho—even if just to prove him wrong if it looked horrible.
After struggling with the corseting in the back, you decided to ask for Violet’s help. Ever obliging, she slipped into the changing room and helped lace you into the gown. Somehow, it fit perfectly and you didn’t even have to hold your breath or anything.
When he saw you in the gown, Minho wolf-whistled. “Damn, Y/N,” he said appreciatively. “You look . . . hot. Yeah.” He paused. “Now aren’t you glad I picked a dress for you? I even made sure it wasn’t too expensive.”
“Yeah, thank you, Min,” you said, smiling at him. “I really look hot?” Suddenly, you were very conscious of the dress’s low neckline.
“No, you look really hot. It’s the best one so far. Is it comfortable?”
“I— Okay, I guess I’ll get this one, then,” you said, surprised at how easy a decision it was. “It’s actually super comfortable.”
“Perfect,” Minho said. “Everyone will be entranced by how gorgeous you are.”
Trying to ignore that last comment, you said, “And, um, Violet? Could you help me again?” You were a bit embarrassed to be buying a piece of clothing you couldn’t get into by yourself. Your roommate would just have to help.
As you changed back into your street clothes, Violet and Minho went up to the register. You thought over how much you’d be paying for the dress, and were quite glad that Minho had agreed to pay for half.
“So,” you said as you reached the register, “how much do I owe?”
Violet gave you a little wink. “You don’t owe anything, dear. It’s all taken care of. There was even a discount on this dress!”
You turned on Minho. “You didn’t….”
“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. Okay?” Minho almost sounded defensive, but maybe he was just tired.
“But I—”
“I said don’t worry about, babe,” Minho interrupted. “See? Now I don’t have to get you a birthday present this year.” Minho sent you a sly grin and a wink. You just rolled your eyes.
“You’ll have to excuse me for saying so,” Violet tittered, breaking the slight tension in the air, “but you two make such a lovely couple. It seems to me you’ll be planning your own wedding soon!”
You blushed. You knew you blushed. How could you not have?
“Thank you, ma’am,” Minho said smoothly. “That’s still quite far in the future, though.” He gave Violet one of his winning smiles that never ceased to make parents, teachers, disagreeable elderly ladies, and, of course, you feel like the most important and lovely person in the world.
“Oh! Well, whenever the happy day is, I wish you both well. Enjoy!” Violet handed you the long dress bag and waved as you left the store.
“Lee Minho, what exactly was that all about?” you demanded once you were well away from the boutique.
“What was what all about?” Minho replied, feigning innocence as he ambled along, hands in his pockets.
“You know what.” You tried not to sound petulant. “Why did you pretend we’re getting married or something?”
“It makes ladies like her happy to think of the younger generation settling down. Besides, she seemed like she needed something exciting in her life. Now, she’ll just spend the rest of the day imagining our wedding, even though she’ll never see us again. See? She gets a daydream and we got the clearly made-up “Cute Couple Discount.” Minho slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you slightly. “Come on, buttercup,” he chuckled, “am I really that hideous for you to hate even pretending?”
Still nonplussed, you shook your head and shoved Minho with your hip—that didn’t stop him from keeping his arm around your shoulders, though. You didn’t reply, since the truth was too embarrassing to even admit.
↠↞
You cursed yourself for a fool as you tried to put on the dress for the wedding. Today just had to be the day your roommate wasn’t around. First, you’d tried lacing it up with the dress back-to-front and slipping it around yourself to just tighten the laces. When that didn’t work, you tried lacing it up loosely and then pulling tight. It still wouldn’t cooperate. Well, there was only one thing for it now.
y/n: ….min you’re on your way, right?
min😼: yeah of course
y/n: i need help with my dress😩🙃😩
min😼: ok. i’ll be there in 5 mins
y/n: thanks!!! you’re the best!!!!😭💕💕💕
min😼: i know
You hurriedly wrestled your hair into a bun, thankful that you could get away with such a simple style. With your makeup already done, you waited by the door, your shoes and a small clutch in one hand and the other holding up the bodice of your dress. This was going to be . . . interesting.
Minho knocked the door and you called, “It’s open!” just as he discovered that very thing. The door opened and—
Lee Minho in a tuxedo was a sight to behold. You wolf-whistled, smirking at your best friend. In response, Minho just raised his eyebrows and inclined his head toward you, as if to say, “You don’t look bad yourself.” You noticed twin flags of pink on his cheeks, too.
“Okay,” Minho said, taking a deep breath as he saw you waiting there in the entryway, “turn around. It’s just simple lacing, right?”
“It should be simple,” you grumbled, “but not for me!”
“I’ve got it, buttercup.” You smiled at that—Minho had recently taken to calling you that nickname far more often than before. “Hold the dress up until I’ve got most of the laces done up, okay?”
Without hesitation, Minho deftly began to draw the laces through the eyes of the corset, occasionally grumbling when one didn’t cooperate. Shortly, you were laced into your dress and Minho was tightening everything to your comfort level. His breath tickling the hairs on the back of your neck was horribly distracting.
“Is this good?” he asked. “I don’t want to squish your lungs.”
“I’m fine! It’s actually perfect” You turned to face Minho, and he had to step back quickly so as not to be hit in the nose with the crown of your head.
“All right, then let’s get going. I don’t want to be late—they’d never forgive me.” Minho then tried to shunt you out your own door, but you threatened him with one of your heels.
While the wedding wasn’t too far outside the city, it would still take you and Minho an hour to get there. You hoped it wouldn’t be too hot, since there was nothing worse than body odor on formalwear. Lifting the hem of your dress, you all but clambered into Minho’s car and buckled your seatbelt. A moment later, you were heading toward the highway, your windows down and Minho easily guiding the car between the light traffic. He even let you choose which music you’d listen to—a rare honor. One or two people glanced over at you at stoplights, but you ignored them. What was wrong with dressing up a little . . . or a lot?
“I just want to tell you a few things before we get there,” Minho said when you were ten minutes away from the venue. You nodded. “Like I said, these are the rich cousins. Everyone will be dressed in black tie attire and acting like they know how to behave. They don’t. I don’t particularly want to get boisterously drunk, but most everyone else will. I can’t promise there won’t be debauchery, especially since it’s an outdoor wedding—lots of shadows to slip off to.” He paused, thinking of what else to warn you about. “Oh, and then there’s Great-Aunt Mia. She’s a handful, to say the least, and likes to comment on everyone’s life decisions. Even if she doesn’t know you, she’ll still find some way to be condescending.”
You gave Minho an incredulous look. “And why exactly did you want to go to this wedding if it’s going to be such a shit show?”
“Hey, it won’t be that bad,” Minho countered. “But yeah, I think that’s all I wanted to say.”
“I’ll just stick with you, since I won’t know anyone there,” you said brightly.
As he turned down the long drive lined with an old yew hedge that led to the mansion on whose grounds the wedding would occur, Minho flashed a radiant smile at you.
It was going to be good night.
↠↞
The wedding ceremony itself was beautiful, and you were almost moved to tears along with everyone else, despite not knowing the newlyweds. And no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that Minho was sitting next to you, his thigh warm against yours and impossible to ignore. When everyone stood to congratulate the happy couple, Minho put his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing the back of your neck. While cuddling and causal touches were normal between the two of you, something had definitely changed in the past week and you weren’t sure what to make of it.
There was a bit of time between the actual ceremony and the reception, so you and Minho decided to go back to his car and nap. It felt a little odd napping in a formal gown, but you didn’t much care. Sleep was always important in your world. You and Minho laid the seats back as far as they’d go and rolled all the windows down to tempt in a breeze. Just as you were falling asleep, you felt Minho’s hand slip into yours. As if on reflex, you laced your fingers in his.
When you woke to Minho’s obnoxious alarm song, you were still holding hands.
“Ready to party?” Minho wiggled his eyebrows at you, sitting up. “We get to see my relatives make fools of themselves!”
“Oh, you know I am. That’s my favorite pastime,” you said, clapping your hands like an excited child.
“I knew there was a reason I kept you around,” Minho said, and you reached out to swat him.
Once you stood outside the car, you decided to redo your bun—you didn’t particularly want to look like you’d just been asleep—but, Minho gently stopped you.
“It looks better loose,” he said, reaching out to carefully place your hair so it sweetly framed your face. It was such a tender gesture that it made your heart ache. So, you left your hair down and, still hand-in-hand with Minho, made your way toward the large tent under which the celebration was just getting under way.
For dinner, you and Minho were seated with some of his younger cousins and their friends. You felt utterly out of your depth, since you didn’t spend much time with fifteen year-olds. They peppered the two of you with questions about adulthood. Thankfully, Minho had been right: there was more than enough food and it was delicious. The wine to go with dinner was excellent, too. You had to stop yourself from going back for thirds of one dish. And when the cake came out, you could barely contain your glee over how good it was. Minho even managed to put a dab of icing on your nose, and laughed himself silly at your look of betrayal.
As tradition dictated, the newlyweds had the first dance. It was sweet and a bit somber. You held back as Minho went to dance as soon as everyone else was invited to dance. The younger cousins flocked to the dance floor like geese. Minho danced exuberantly, joyously, and you couldn’t help smiling at him whenever he faced you. Without his suit coat, he could move freely as any leaf on the wind, and all too quickly, he was lost to you as more and more people flooded the dance floor.
“Hey,” a voice behind you said. You hadn’t noticed anyone approach as you watched a couple in front of you dance their hearts out. Looking up, your eyes met those of an incredibly handsome young man you’d seen in the bridal party. His tuxedo looked so normal that it practically screamed that it cost more than you’d care to imagine.
You gave him a mildly confused look. “Hello?”
“Oh, come on, that’s no way to talk to a kind gentleman simply saying ‘Hello,’” the man said.
“I don’t know you,” you said uncertainly.
“True. Park Seonghwa at your service.” He left space at the end of the sentence, expecting you to provide your name. You didn’t. But that didn’t stop him. “So,” he continued, pulling out a chair next to you and straddling it, “what’s a beautiful woman like you doing sitting over here when you could be dancing?”
“I just didn’t feel like dancing yet,” you said, keeping your voice even, and took a sip of your wine. “I could ask you the same thing.”
Seonghwa looked affronted. “Do you see this suit? There’s no way I can dance in this!”
You laughed—you couldn’t help it, not when this preening popinjay was being so ridiculous. And, of course, he took your laughter as a sign that he was doing something right and proceeded to shift his chair closer to yours. A waft of his cloying cologne hit you like a freight train and you coughed lightly, leaning away.
“If I’m supposed to dance in this gown, then you can definitely dance in that suit,” you said mockingly.
“Ah! Care to dance with me, then, beautiful?” Seonghwa stood and held out his hand, expecting you to take it. He had the air about him that he was used to getting what he wanted. “Or we could go somewhere private and I can show you my . . . moves.”
“No, I don’t. I’m not going to dance or do anything else with someone I just met, especially one so cocky as you.” You turned away from Seonghwa to resume watching the guests dancing. A moment later, your view was eclipsed by the thing very person you were trying to avoid.
“Could you move?” you asked peevishly. “Whatever you want, I’m not interested.”
“Why don’t you want to dance with me, hmm?” Seonghwa demanded. “Aren’t I handsome enough?”
“Is that all you can talk about? How handsome you are?” you snapped. “I said I’m not interested, and that should be enough.” Your thoughts raced—usually only one thing worked on guys like this. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”
Seonghwa made to grab your hand to pull you out of your seat, but stopped as a hand clasped his shoulder. “Ah. Seonghwa. I shouldn’t be surprised. Kindly fuck off, won’t you?” Minho said as brightly as the glint of sunlight off a lake on a summer’s day. His hair was slightly disheveled from dancing, but that didn’t stop him from looking like a prince to you. In fact, it only helped.
“Minnie!” Seonghwa cried, turning to face Minho. “It’s good to see you! It’s been too long.”
“Hmm, I’d say not long enough,” Minho muttered, but Seonghwa wasn’t paying attention.
“I was just about to dance with— You know, I never did catch this lovely creature’s name.”
“And I’m still not going to give it to you,” you insisted, angry that you’d been called a “lovely creature.”
“Seonghwa, really. Go bother someone else.” Minho’s voice was still calm, but it had an edge to it. “I’m tired of your shit.”
“Oh, I see how it is,” Seonghwa said, looking between you and Minho. Then, sensing that he couldn’t charm his way out of this situation, he stalked off in the direction of the bar.
Letting out a sigh, Minho came to stand by you and gently rubbed your back. The cut of your gown was such that his hand only met bare skin, and you felt a shiver pass over you. A few minutes passed as you both simply watched the gyrating crowd.
“Is he always like that?” you asked suddenly.
Minho looked down at you, brows furrowed slightly. “Hmm?”
“Is Seonghwa always such a dick? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so insufferable and narcissistic,” you run a hand through you hair, the picture of annoyance.
“Yeah,” Minho says sadly. “He’s never really understood that the life he’s used to isn’t everyone else’s reality. And it doesn’t help that he knows he’s disgustingly handsome.”
You giggled. “That’s the perfect way to put it.”
A slow, mellow love song began to play and the young cousins back to the table, too embarrassed to remain on the dance floor. Minho leaned down to your ear and said, “Why don’t you come dance, now. I think the young ones are about to start annoying us again. I promise I won’t leave you on the side this time.”
Smiling, you stood, and Minho’s hand went to your waist as he drew you out onto the dance floor. The skirt of your gown swirled around you most satisfyingly. Dancing with Minho had always been easy, since all you had to do was follow his lead and hope you didn’t trip over your own feet. Tonight was no different. With one hand at your waist and the other between your shoulder blades, Minho held you close to him as you carefully swayed and sometimes twirled together. Your arms had automatically gone to loop around the back of his neck, which made you think of all the times you’d done that with silly guys in high school. Minho laughed, surprised but pleased.
You were aware of Minho’s fingers gently weaving in and out of the ends of your hair, almost as if he didn’t want you to know. You brushed your thumb against the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he sucked in a breath. Something had changed between you and Minho in the past two weeks, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. There was just something about being at a wedding that made you feel especially romantic.
“Lee Minho!” came a slightly hoarse and distinctly peevish voice.
“Oh no,” Minho groaned and rested his forehead on your head, clearly hoping you could hold him up that way.
“Is that your great-aunt Mia,” you whispered, glancing over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the elderly woman hurriedly making her way toward you. Her wispy white hair formed a cloud around her head, much like a dandelion gone to seed. When dancers didn’t move from her quickly enough, she rapped them on the ankles with her gnarled cane.
“Mhmm,” Minho grimaced.
“Should she be on the dance floor?” you asked, concerned.
“Probably not.”
“Lee Minho, what do you think you’re doing?” Great-Aunt Mia said, knocking her cane into Minho’s calves so he nearly fell into you.
“Hello, Aunt Mia,” Minho said, turning to face the disagreeable woman; he kept his hand on your waist, though.
“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man!”
“Sorry, Aunt Mia. I wish I could have visited you, I really do, but school’s just been so busy. I hope you’ve been well.” You could tell by the set of his shoulders that Minho was trying not to be sarcastic toward his elder relative, and decided to snake your arm around his waist. For moral support.
“Minho, you didn’t tell me you have a girlfriend. You will introduce us.” Great-Aunt Mia didn’t ask to be introduced; no, she commanded.
“Oh, right,” Minho said, and Great Aunt Mia glared, as if Minho’s lapse in cordiality was a high crime. “Great Aunt Mia, may I present my girlfriend, Y/N L/N.”
If you’d just taken a sip of your now abandoned wine, you would have spluttered. You couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. Girlfriend? You’d certainly entertained the idea in your wildest, most private daydreams, but never thought of it seriously. Minho always negated any suggestion of you being a couple, so, surely, he was joking this time, too. He had to be. After all, you’d been mistaken for a couple more times than you could count.
“Well, girl?” Great-Aunt Mia’s voice cut through your thoughts like a hot knife through butter. All around you, the other guests continued dancing.
“I’m so sorry,” you said, nearly tripping over your words as you raced to get them out. Great-Aunt Mia was scary. “It’s very nice to meet you, ma’am.” You weren’t sure if you should courtesy or hold out your hand to shake hers or what—this interacting-with-rich-people thing mildly unnerved you.
“Oh, call me Aunt Mia—everyone does!” Great-Aunt Mia chortled, then, she peered at you. “So, you’ve won the heart of our darling Minho, have you? Well, what do you do?”
“I—” you began, then had to swallow. “I’m still in college, ma’am, but I have a part-time job at a bookstore.” There was no way you were going to call this harpy of a woman “Aunt Mia.”
“Well, that’s good,” she said, making it clear that she did not think it good in the least. “I’m sure you’ll be a fine wife for Minho. Don’t embarrass us, please.”
Her pronouncement hung in the air as you and Minho simply stared. Then, Great-Aunt Mia sharply turned her head to the side, like a fox that had just sensed a vole nearby, and hobbled away into the crowd of dancers. Even after you could no longer see her, you knew where she went by the yelps of pain from those unfortunate enough to get in her way.
“So, where were we?” Minho said, pulling you around to face him again. As he did so, his hands came to rest on your hips, much lower than before. You could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of your dress.
Before you could say anything, Minho stiffened as he looked up and past you. “I need you to make out with me,” he said quickly, bringing his lips to your ear. “Please, I’m begging, Y/N. I’ll explain later.”
“Wha—” was all you got out before Minho’s lips were on yours. Without thinking, you fit your lips more perfectly to his and kissed back. He tasted of sweet icing, white wine, and the salt of sweat from dancing. You clung to him, holding on for dear life as reality seemed to shimmer like a veil in front of you. And, Minho clearly thought now was not the time for half-measures, since he’d roughly pulled your hips to his—you could tell his pants were feeling far too tight at the moment. You gasped against his lips as he slid his tongue into your mouth. Minho cupped the back of your head, still holding your hip like a lifeline in a storm.
“Hey, if you’re not gonna dance, get off the dance floor!”
“Get a room!”
“Ooooh, hot!”
You broke the kiss, blushing at the comments from people around you and at how enthusiastically you’d kissed him back. You were both panting slightly.
“Min,” you breathed. “What was that— Why— We just—”
Minho interrupted you with another peck on the lips, then pulled you with him off the dance floor. “Let’s get out of here.”
You followed Minho out from under the tent, away from the people and lights and wine that flowed like Dionysus himself presided over the bar. The memory of the softness of Minho’s lips on yours buzzed through your veins, making you feel warm honey. When you reached an old maple, you stopped, still holding hands.
“Minho, why did we just make out?” you said, looking up into his face. “Not that I minded!” you added quickly.
“Seonghwa was coming toward us and he, well—” Minho looked uncomfortable. “He has a history of trying take away the people I’m dating. I wasn’t about to let him get you.”
“But, we’re not dating . . .” you said, hearing how uncertain you sounded and mentally kicking yourself.
“He didn’t have to know that,” Minho said, his voice firm. “I still didn’t want him worming his way between us.” He reached up and lightly ran his fingertips along the line of your cheekbone. You couldn’t help yourself—you leaned into his touch.
The winking of fireflies in the trees on the far side of the lawn made it look like Minho was surrounded by stars. The next words you spoke took all your courage, and then some, to say. “What if we did date, Min?”
Minho didn’t bother with a lengthy speech detailing the reasons he wanted you. He didn’t fall to his knees and clutch at your skirts, professing his love in verse. He didn’t walk away. Instead, Minho cupped your face in his hands and brought his mouth to yours again.
“Yes, yes,” he said in between kissing your cheeks, your lips, your eyelids, everywhere he could. “Oh Y/N, love, please.” The last word came out a little strangled.
You ran your fingers through Minho’s hair, holding him to you as you all but devoured each other. The fabric of your dress against your skin suddenly felt too tight, and all you wanted to do was yank it off yourself. Instead, you settled for untying Minho’s bowtie and starting on his buttons. At the same time, he began working at the lacing of your gown.
“We,” Minho gasped, “should go back to the car. We can’t just— Not under a tree.”
You giggled at how close you’d come to tearing each other’s clothes off in the middle of a public lawn. While it was still early in the evening, it wasn’t that dark yet. “Come on, then,” you grinned. “We can time how long it takes you to undo the lacing of this fucking dress.”
It turned out that Minho was more adept at unlacing things than you’d expected, and you were soon out of your dress. Minho’s shirt was gone, too. So, clothed in far less than what you’d arrived at the wedding in, you straddled Minho’s lap in the backseat of his car. His lips on your skin felt like the fire that the fireflies in the surrounding trees seemed to hold. But his kisses were still the best, making you feel as though you partook of the sweetest ambrosia.
Your hands were still in his hair as his roamed your back and down to grip your thighs. Minho pulled you closer to him and nuzzled your neck, sucking on the sensitive skin there. Every time you ground your hips into his, Minho let out a moan so pretty that you thought you could listen to it every day. You were sure that you’d blaze up in a pillar of flame at any moment, you felt so full of frenetic energy.
The heat between the two of you grew steadily until it was all you could do not to cry out. Minho’s body covered you, warm and lithe, and soon he murmured your name over and over and over again. Fireflies danced behind your eyes.
“I love you, Y/N,” Minho whispered, holding you to his chest as you curled up on the seat together—your dress made a surprisingly good blanket. “I love you so much.”
“Min, please tell me you mean that,” you said, not daring to believe that you weren’t just dreaming, even after everything that you’d just done.
“I do mean it, buttercup,” Minho said, kissing your temple. “And I’ll mean it every day of my life. I promise.”
#inkidz#ultkpop#0325net#lee minho#stray kids#lee minho fanfic#lee know fanfic#lee know fluff#lee know imagines#lee know scenarios#lee minho fluff#lee minho imagines#stray kids fluff#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids scenarios#stray kids minho#skz#skz minho#skz fluff#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz fanfic#well i promised that i'd post this tonight....i was hoping for earlier but it's okay;;;;#.moonlight#moonlit-han
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In The Afterglow | 4 | F.W
This is a reposting of Chapter 4 because I accidentally deleted the original post. Please note as of the day I posted this, we are on much later chapters! xx
Summary: The reader is married to George Weasley, and for all intents and purposes, he is the perfect husband. But, despite her best efforts to resist, Fred presents temptation she never knew she’d fall for.
Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem! Reader; George Weasley x Fem!Reader
Alternate Universe: No Voldemort AU
Rating: Mature, Features EXPLICIT CONTENT!! Mature audiences only.
Trigger Warnings: ANGST, mentions of extramarital affairs, miscarriage, mention of a d&c procedure, cheating, oral sex (female receiving)
Flashbacks are in italics!
*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:
December 28th.
You slid the hotel room key into the door, taking a deep breath as you opened it. It was an agreement that you would meet at a local hotel. Your story to George was that you had a work emergency, and Fred had just told the rest of the mates at the pub that he was tired. You’d never considered yourself a liar or a cheat, but it occurred to you all at once that as of tonight, you were both. But any thought about your marriage covenant was going, going, gone as you walked into the room, your heart hammering in your chest at the prospect of being completely alone and vulnerable with your husband’s twin. The twin who you were falling madly and irrevocably in love with, despite the protests of your morals screaming into your subconscious.
Once the door shut behind you, you turned to see Fred sitting cross-legged on the bed. He stood up quickly, practically falling over his long legs to get to you. “Hi,” he whispered, cupping your face and planting a soft and longed-for kiss on your lips. You pulled off your scarf and jacket, laying them on the bed.
You moved to pull yourself closer to Fred again. A wave of calm washed from your fingertips to your toes as you buried your face into his maroon button-up shirt. Fred had this way about him: he was both strong and gentle; funny yet serious; forbidden yet sweet. He smiled, using the hand that wasn’t keeping you cling to his chest to stroke your hair.
“I missed you, Fred,” you admitted softly, not looking up. You noticed he was holding you tight. His embrace was almost protective, as if he let relaxed even a bit you would fall apart right there.
You stepped back for a moment, sighing as you sat down on the edge of the mattress. You were exhausted. A bit of a stress-induced headache was beginning to form behind your eyes. While you would normally want to be tucked in your bed with a cup of tea and a few aspirin, tonight the only painkiller you wanted was Fred. He sat next to you, allowing you to turn to look at him.
“This isn’t right.”
Of course, you were stating the obvious. Fred nodded in agreement.
“I know.”
Fred intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing your hand up to plant a few soft kisses on your fingers.
“George told me...about what happened a few months ago...I’m sorry, y/n. I wish I’d have known.”
“No one knows. Even if they did what could they do? I haven’t told anyone. Not even your mum, although, maybe it would keep her from constantly asking about another grandchild.”
Fred looked at you and all at once felt his heart shatter again. There was something about you that left him mystified and unhinged. It was as if you two had been cut from the same pieces of marble - two statues fated to be next to one another but never touching. He wasn’t sure if he believed in God, but if he had, certainly He had made you two from the same substance.
Fred placed a hand on your cheek. His gaze pierced yours. He spoke honestly, and you recognized that for the first time in a long time, you felt whole again.
“I wish I could give you the world, y/n. I would have given you anything, everything if you were mine.”
You wanted to pull away. Surely, George telling Fred about your miscarriage must have meant he was still bothered. Yet, not in the way that would make him hold you at night or ask you how you’ve been. It was more so in a way that caused you both to sit in silence at the dinner table, forks scraping against plates as neither of you spoke. Knowing that life with Fred would be different felt like a thousand tiny daggers ripping into your flesh, each of them dripping with guilt and shame.
To silence Fred, you brought your lips to his. All at once, the space between you was nonexistent. It was as if gravity had brought you two together like magnets. Fred gently laid you back onto the bed, moving to kiss your neck tenderly and purposefully. His breath tickled the wetness on your skin as he spoke.
“I want you to know that you are the most perfect creature I’ve ever laid my eyes on,” he whispered, before continuing to kiss down toward your collarbone.
His hands found their way to the hem of your tee shirt and you didn’t move to stop him. He pulled your shirt off over your head, tossing it onto the floor. Fred took a deep breath and began to plant his lips lovingly, down between your collarbones and onto your tummy.
When Fred finally hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties, he looked up at you. He waited for you to give him the go-ahead. His patience was like a warm breeze washing over you. It had been so long since you felt waited for, not pushed.
“Promise not to tell,” you said softly, giving him permission to go further.
“Our little secret.”
*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ
6 years earlier.
You took a deep breath, shaking your hands out in an effort to stop some of your nerves. “You look stunning,” your friend assured you. It was the night of the Yule Ball, and it so happened, your first real date with George Weasley.
“Do you think he’ll like my dress?” you smoothed your hands over the maroon lace of your gown. The dress you had chosen was floor length with a full skirt and lace bodice. The sweetheart neckline perfectly hugged you in all the right places. It was still puzzling to you, as you slipped into your heels, that George had finally asked you out.
“He would be a bloody idiot to think you looked anything other than drop-dead gorgeous.”
Always a loyal Hufflepuff, you were thankful for your friend’s ability to cheer you up. You grabbed your clutch, following your friend out of her dormitory.
“Now, come on, we don’t want to miss the opening waltz.”
——-
When you arrived at the top of the stairs, you were excited to see George waiting for you at the bottom. You took in the sight of your date, a bright smile spreading quickly across your face. His long hair was resting perfectly just above his shoulders. To add, he was wearing surprisingly nice dress robes, considering his little brother’s ensemble was dreadful. From what Fred had told you, the two of them had scraped up money together all year to make sure they had something fit to wear to the ball.
When you reached the bottom of the stairs, George extended a hand to you. You took it and he leaned down to give you a gentlemanly kiss on the hand. You blushed a darker shade than your dress, feeling a million butterflies burst to life in your stomach.
“You look like a Princess,” he purred. You could have melted into a puddle right there. It was as if everyone else in the room no longer existed as George led you into the Great Hall. It occurred to you that you hadn’t seen Fred, but it didn’t much matter where your best friend was, because every last ounce of your attention was on George.
Meanwhile, Fred sat on his bed, flipping through a comic book. He closed it, feeling like nothing could possibly distract him from the sadness in his chest. He huffed, falling backward onto his pillows and staring hopelessly up at the top of the canopy of his bed. He crossed his arms over his chest as he chewing on his bottom lip.
Fred had secretly hoped George wouldn’t end up asking you to the Yule Ball. In fact, he had tried his damndest to ensure it didn’t happen. George had asked him directly if he had fancied you. But Fred’s ego got the best of him and scoffed, stating he could never view you as anything more than a friend. She’s like my sister, he had said to his brother, hiding the redness growing on his pale cheeks.
So George had gone ahead and asked you. Fred, on the other hand, decided it would be better for him to hide away in his dorm all night than to have to see you and George together. If only he had known the Yule Ball was barely a glimmer into what the next several years of his life would be like.
George had completely stolen your heart that night. You had danced until the Great Hall was all but empty. Your laughter echoed above the music. George was quiet possibly one of the most charming boys at Hogwarts. You felt chosen, worthy, and on top of the world.
Best of all, he had walked you back to your dormitory and given you your first real kiss. You had been kissed before, sure, but games of 7 Minutes in Heaven in the y/hn common room didn’t count in your book. He had asked for permission quietly, looking down at his feet. When you said yes, all at once, your lips met. It was quick but sweet. You noted how George’s lips felt like silk. Up close, George smelled woodsy, yet sweet. You felt like you were on the moon, and you went back into your room, falling back onto your mattress with a giggle. Like most girls your age, you were certain it was true love. But, in your rare case, your prediction was correct.
You turned to your roommate and squealed. “I think I’m going to marry George Weasley someday.”
*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ
December 28th.
You tossed your head back hard against the pillow, gripping onto the hotel sheets as tight as you could. The only thing clear behind your eyes was a flash of white. Try as you might to hold it back, a loud moan echoed off the hotel room walls. It took a second for you to come back down, feeling two calloused hands on either of your thighs. You heard a soft chuckle and glanced down. Fred was moving from between your legs, fixing his red hair which had now become messy from wrapping your hands in it. You shivered as you felt his warm breath hit the inside of your thigh. You were hypersensitive as you floated back down to Planet Earth.
Fred had kissed his way down your body, whispering quietly about how beautiful every inch of you was. When he had finally reached his destination, you’d realized quickly why so many girls were constantly showing up at the shop to see him. Fred had insisted that you needn’t return the favor. He always made it clear you didn’t have to go any further that night, stating that he just wanted all of the attention to be on you.
“Fred, I--”
Your chest was rising and falling rapidly. The redhead climbed up next to you, smiling contently. He moved a piece of sweaty hair from your forehead, giving you a tiny peck on the cheek.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s been a while since that’s happened,” you noted, trying to make light of the fact that it really had been ages since George had shown you a reasonable amount of intimate attention. He smiled, reaching over to hand you his shirt while had been balled up on the floor. You fastened the buttons as he got a bit more comfortable in bed.
“You deserve to be shown how magnificent you are,” Fred ran his hand down your side and you shivered. He pulled the blankets closer around you. “I wish we could stay like this forever, y/n. You know?”
You both laid in silence for a while. No words need to have been spoken as you pressed your foreheads together, taking deep breaths. Fred allowed himself to kiss you a few times, soft as a feather. His eyelashes brushed against your cheeks.
Now that your high was coming down, clarity of the situation was settling in. There was no turning back now. This was no longer a stolen kiss or a wandering hand. Your brother-in-law had just taken you to the edge of ecstasy while your husband no doubt slept alone at home. You flung the covers off of you, feeling like your were suffocating. As quickly as you could you stood up, eyes darting around the room for your clothing. Fred’s brows suddenly furrowed and he looked at you, concern radiating from his face.
“Y/n, did I—-did I do something wrong?”
“No, no. I did. I have to go.”
As if it were a race against the clock, you quickly stripped out of Fred’s shirt and found your jeans on the floor. You pulled them on, moving next to find your grey sweater. Tears were rolling down your cheeks quickly, and you felt your breath becoming harder to take. It may have been your mind, but you could have sworn the walls of the hotel room were collapsing in around you. You felt dirty and shameful - like every shred of decency you had for your husband was nonexistent.
“Baby.”
You said nothing, shoving your phone and wallet into your purse.
“Baby-“
“Don’t call me that, Fred. I’m not your baby.”
Your words hit him like a sucker punch. He recoiled, but still looked worried.
You laid a few bills out on the table for the housekeeper and quickly rushed out of the room. You heard Fred calling after you as he had moved to open the door in an attempt to catch you.
“Y/n!”
As you hurried down the long hotel corridor, it became harder and harder for you to bring air into your lungs. You just about knocked a businessman over as you rushed into the elevator, hitting the button for the first floor as quickly as you could.
*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ
September 24th.
“George,” you shook your husband’s shoulder quickly. Your throat felt tight as you hoped and prayed he would wake up soon. Your hand was pressed to your stomach, eyes clenched tight as another cramp ripped through you.
One of his brown eyes opened and he sat up a bit. “Honey?”
“Something...something’s wrong.”
You had been startled from your sleep in the middle of the night to intense cramping, and now the blood wouldn’t stop. Sharp pains were shooting across your lower back. You knew you had to wake George to get you to the hospital.
Just a few weeks earlier, you had made it through the first trimester. You and George had already made plans to tell the family, bursting at the seams with excitement. During the first three months, you hid your condition well, politely declining fire whisky at get-togethers and wearing looser dresses. You had assumed that you had made it through the riskiest part of your pregnancy. For that reason, a few gifts were sitting in the corner of your bedroom. A grandma tee-shirt for Molly and a gift for Fred, too. You and George had agreed there would obviously be no other option for the baby’s godfather.
At the hospital, you were told the news you were dreading. George held onto you as you wept, barely listening as the doctor told you what would happen next. You begged to be allowed to go home and pass the pregnancy naturally. It wouldn’t be possible according to the professionals. George tried to calm you down as the nurse gently prepped you for the procedure.
It was over fairly quickly. George had waited for you in the waiting room, sipping on cheap coffee, and wondering if he should call Molly. He decided against it, knowing she would just be beside herself for weeks. Eventually, a charge nurse came to tell him everything was done.
“We’ll give her some pain medication and she’ll be as good as new in a few days. You’ll want to keep on eye on her though, dear, you know, emotionally.”
George nodded, tossing his empty styrofoam cup into a nearby trashcan and bounded toward the elevator. Upon walking into Room 493, he noticed how pale you looked. He walked over slowly and you looked at him. The anesthesia was just wearing off. You felt woozy, but had a sense of peace as George leaned over to kiss your forehead. He stayed down close to you, moving your hair from your face a bit.
“You did great, sweetheart. You are so brave. I love you. Come on, we’ll get you home, okay?”
The drive home was dead silent as you stared at the window. Rain splattered against the windshield. You wanted to dissolve into thin air, thinking to yourself that ceasing to exist would be better than the ache you felt. It was dawn and you felt yourself staring mindlessly at the cars passing you. Off these people went to work or school, while you had just lost a baby. It was impossible to recall an emotional pain like the one harboring itself in your heart. A deep, hollow sensation sunk its way into you as tears began trickling down your face. Hermione, Fleur, and Ginny all knew the joy of being a mother. But what about you? Why not you?
You pressed your cheek against the glass, letting out the tiniest whimper.
George glanced over at you and reached to grab your hand. The broken noise you had made had distracted him from the road. You clutched his hand to yours, letting your sobs echo against the dashboard. George felt his own tears begin to slide down his cheeks. The realization hit him all at once that you would never be the same - a part of you permanently and profoundly changed.
You laid in bed for days, only leaving to shower. Occasionally, you allowed George to sit you up and give you something to eat. It wasn’t that you were physically in pain. No, the doctors had given you a good amount of painkillers to ease the physical soreness. Rather, a dark storm cloud had enveloped your heart and mind, forcing you to do nothing but lay and stare at the wall. You would weep, sometimes for hours. As if on cue, George would slide under the covers next to you and pull you close to him.
With your face buried deep into his chest, you would allow your whole body to shake, almost screaming. “M-my baby,” you would weep, gripping your hands into George’s shirt. It wasn’t just once that this happened - but for days on end. George would fight his own tears from coming, willing himself to be the strong and protective husband you deserved. The woman he loved had entered that hospital and he wasn’t sure she had come back out. But he would do anything, he promised himself, to be what you needed.
*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ
December 29th.
The Saturday morning sunshine poured through your window. You stretched contently, noting that George was already gone. Saturdays served to be the busiest days at Weasley Wizard Wheezes. People had more time to shop on the weekends, of course. Therefore, Saturday also happened to be the day you would whip up some food for the twins and head down to help out. You busied yourself mostly with the register and bookkeeping, giving Fred and George more time to be present with customers and take care of other duties.
This Saturday felt different. The feeling Fred had given you the night before was still fresh in your mind as you stared in the bathroom mirror. You looked back at yourself, letting out a deep sigh. Dark circles were present beneath your eyes, no doubt from the restless sleep you had. You laid awake, looking at George, thinking to yourself that whatever category was the worst, you were in it.
__________
The bells of the shop jingled as you walked in. Fred looked up from where he was arranging a fixture of love potions. Your eyes locked in a longing gaze momentarily before George came out of the backroom. Fred immediately diverted his stare. He attempted to look busy as he listened to your conversation.
“The caffeine has arrived!” George greeted, coming over to take one of the three coffee cups you were carrying.
“And you know, your wife comes along with caffeine, George. Cream and two sugars,” you smiled, allowing him to give you a kiss on the lips. While you were mostly joking, you did feel somewhat hurt.
Fred walked over to you next, taking his coffee from you. Up close, you could tell Fred looked exhausted.
“Black with four sugars?” He asked, taking a sip.
“‘Course, Freddie,” you said curtly, heading toward the register as fast as possible. “So what time do we open?”
“Nine,” George said, taking another gulp of his drink.
George glanced at his brother and then back at you, feeling a weird sense that you two were angry at each other.
“Everything alright?” George asked, watching as you busied yourself with wiping the counter down.
“Yes, dear,” you sighed.
“Hey, don’t forget. Ron and Hermione’s New Year’s Eve party is tomorrow, and the three of us are expected to make an appearance.”
George was next to you now, close behind your shoulder. You had made the amateur mistake of wearing a v-neck top. He noticed a small lovebite just above your breast. Or was it a bruise? Surely, it must have been, because you hadn’t been intimate with him in weeks. You did have a tendency to be clumsy. In fact, it was a running joke.
“I know,” you and Fred said in unison. You looked over to see George staring at your chest. You pulled your top-up a bit, hoping he was just enamored with you.
#fred weasley x reader#in the afterglow#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley angst#harry potter fanfiction
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Hey what's up? I was wondering if you still take requests for the wanda and vision mixtape. It's one of my favorites. If you have time I would love for you to consider the song Rewrite the Stars from the Greatest Showman. I love this song and I think it really fits them. Thank you so much for your work and what you contribute to this Fandom!
hi! I do still take song requests for Wanda and Vision's mixtape (despite the stack of them waiting in my inbox - I'm so sorry to those I haven't gotten around to yet, creative flow comes and goes) This song is such a great fit for them so thank you for requesting, it was lots of fun to write! thank you for your support 🥰
Track #26: Rewrite the Stars - Zac Efron and Zendaya
| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |
Synopsis: Things are changing between Wanda and Vision. Naturally a big charity even is the best place to confront their confusing emotions, no? featuring some serious yearning and a dance scene, because I love confessions mid-waltz.
Vision frowned at himself in the mirror.
There was nothing wrong, in fact the suit he had on had been perfectly tailored. Vision had been excited at the premise of having a piece of clothing that was made specially for him, and real at that. Tony had presented the options and given how significant the event was, Vision thought it might be worthwhile to have a proper suit that wasn’t just one of his constructs. He enjoyed being able to create whatever he wanted to wear, but he wanted tonight to be normal, as normal as he could be.
Now that he had it on it was underwhelming. Not to say he didn't appreciate the gift. It was a piece of art. A three piece of different shades of something similar to charcoal. The jacket glittered; its fabric featured iridescent silver threads that shifted when he moved under the light. The trousers matched the double-breasted vest, though they were a lighter shade of grey.
No, no it wasn’t the suit that was the problem.
It was the prospect of the event itself, the idea that all eyes would be on the Avengers, expecting a certain level of behaviour. Vision much preferred the days he spent with his friends at the compound, secure in the fact that they knew the real him. And more than anyone else, Wanda knew the real him, knew the face that he showed to the public and the press wasn’t.
Plus, Vision would be expected to dance – he had never had reason to dance or move in such a way before and he was dreading it. But then there was also the prospect that he might dance with Wanda and that raised his spirits marginally. Though, whether or not she would wand to dance with him was another question.
Things had been changing between them and Vision felt as though Wanda was even more hesitant to confront those changes than he was. All it had taken was one fateful night together. He hadn’t stayed by her side since Wanda’s first month at the compound, when her rest was so riddled with nightmares that she couldn’t bear to be alone. In the year since it had become a growing rarity for Vision to stick out the night by her side.
But then a week earlier Vision had been preparing to sleep, even if it just meant lying in his bed and doing nothing for eight hours. His body had been in need of a little downtime after several missions in quick succession. He’d been settling in to rest when there had come a knock at his door, of course he said come in, less phased than his teammates by the prospect of unannounced guests.
It was Wanda, who else would be knocking at his door so late at night. She’d walked in hesitantly but there had been a hard set to her jaw. Vision hadn’t asked for her reasons, had just shuffled over in the double bed to make space. So, it was not common, this behaviour, but what had come next was worse. Vision winced recalling the memory with the vividness enabled by his high functioning mind. But he entertained his brain and let the memory play out, hopeless to prevent it. If anything, he wanted to relive it.
Vision woke slowly, relishing in the well-rested feeling that spread throughout his body as his awareness increased. For the first time it felt as though he had really slept.
As he became aware of his body he frowned and opened his eyes. In the memory he blinked a few times, as though trying to clear a dream from his eyes. There was Wanda, her face relaxed in slumber, one side of her mouth turned up at the corner as though she were in the middle of a good dream.
One of her hands was wrapped up in the cotton of his t-shirt, gripping it tightly like she was afraid he might float away. At that moment Vision had felt so light it was at risk of actually happening.
He stayed totally still as he gradually became conscious of where their bodies were in relation to each other. Their legs were tangled, one of Wanda’s knees hooked around his, the bare skin warm against his. One of his hands was tucked under his cheek and the other had apparently possessed a mind of its own and gravitated down to rest on Wanda’s hip.
Slowly he removed his hand, wincing as Wanda registered the movement and opened her eyes. The blue of her eyes was bright in the dimness of the room, but her pupils still turned to pin pricks as they adapted to the light difference. And then she caught sight of him, centimetres from her own face. Vision watched long enough to see her pupils dilate.
Vision shook his head and returned to reality, pressing both hands to his cheeks and feeling them as warm as they had been on that fateful morning. Wanda had mumbled something about training and practically fled his bed, her ears an alarming shade of red. And Vision had been left to sit there for a further half hour trying to absorb exactly what had happened.
Wanda was running late. She hadn’t meant to take so long to get ready, but it was just so difficult to figure out what she wanted to do with her hair. Ten minutes before they were due to leave for the function, she decided on leaving it down, curled loosely so it settled about her shoulders.
Heels in one hand and holding the edge of her dress in the other she hurried down the stairs for the front door. There were three cars waiting outside, not the usual SUVs they traveled in but sleek BMWs.
A couple of smart cars held nothing to her dress. It had been a gift from Nat a few months earlier, but Wanda hadn’t had the opportunity to attend anything fancy enough that merited putting on the gown. Earlier she’d struggle to make it to the bodice through the pleats of rich red fabric that made up the skirt. Now that it was on it was a perfect fit, flowing off her hips in waves of fabric that shifted with every move. It was the most elegant thing she had ever worn, Wanda only hoped she would do it justice as the evening went on.
The doors on the front two cars were shut so she hurriedly made her way round to the backseat of the third.
Steve sat in the passenger seat with Natasha and Vision taking two of the spots in the back. As Wanda went to step in Natasha caught her gaze and smiled mischievously.
“Hang on, Vision do you mind swapping with me? It’s hard to sit in the middle with my heels and the console.”
Wanda’s stomach dropped as she settled into her seat and Vision and Nat got out of the car to trade spots. And here she had been worried about holding them up. Frustrated, Wanda huffed her hair out of her face, pushing the waves off her shoulder as Vision settled himself into the middle. The backseat was spacious enough, there was no way Nat had been that uncomfortable. No, it had been for Wanda’s benefit. She had confided in Nat on some of the changes occurring between her and the synthezoid now at her side but never had Wanda thought Nat would pull something so obvious and foolish.
It sent her cheeks turning a shade of red not so different from her dress.
The drive felt painfully long. Steve had kept it going with some small talk but that had died out into a stagnant silence. She was being dramatic; the others were probably fine with the silence but for Wanda it felt suffocating. Any other time and she and Vision would have been talking. They could talk for hours about anything, and he always knew what to say to put her at ease. Even their silent moments together felt comfortable. It was never like this.
In the end, she spent most of the drive focusing on moving with the car when it turned so she didn’t accidentally brush Vision. How had they gone from the casual intimacy of friends to this strange tension? It annoyed her, though she felt powerless to change things. Wanda didn’t know a whole lot about chemistry, but she knew whatever she and Vision had would blow up in their faces if they weren’t careful.
Finally, the glowing street lamps turned into the staticky light of cameras. For the first time, Wanda felt relieved by the assault of flashes on her eyes.
They approached a line of similar vehicles, all likely full of celebrities who had managed to scrape together enough of a network to score an invite to the Stark Industries charity event. Hurriedly, Wanda bent over and set about lacing her shoes up. The thick platform heels were chunkier than what would go with her dress but they made up for it in their steadiness. There had been talk of dancing and Wanda figured she was best off in comfortable and stable shoes than trying to balance on stilettos.
Busy fiddling with her shoes, Wanda didn’t feel the car turn until she was sent sliding across the leather seat. Vision’s reflexes were fast as always, his hands quickly steadying her, one at her back the other coming to rest at her hip. They both froze and Wanda looked up, hating how easy it was to lean into his touch. Vision’s eyes glittered in the dim light of the car, their brightness shifting as he took in her face. Suddenly she was taken back to that fateful morning the week before. She’d known it was a bad idea before she’d even made it to his room. Had known she should have run before he woke up instead of pretending to keep sleeping in the warmth of his presence, relishing in the familiarity of his hands on her body. What she would give to wake up to that every morning. But no – no this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t, it wasn’t in her cards.
“Alright, here we go,” Steve said unaware of what was unfolding in the backseat. He swung open the passenger door and they were immediately met with the clicking of cameras and shouting of the crowd.
Wanda moved away and Vision’s hands disappeared from her body so quickly she felt sure he had used his superhuman speed. She quickly finished tightening the strap of her shoe and threw her door open, taking Steve’s arm as he came to help her up.
Vision was left to scramble out of the car on his own as Nat hurried after Wanda who had practically stormed away from the car. He hung his head sadly, trying to pull himself together in time for the cameras.
At the front of the glamorous hall that was the location for the evening, Vision managed to skip the questions from the reporters outside. He didn’t often get questions, with the Tony and Steve taking the blow for the rest of them. Wanda had disappeared in a flash of red, heading up the stairs and into the hall before he could catch her. Tony caught Vision’s elbow and pulled him over for a photo. They smiled genially at the cameras which were entirely unaware of the underhanded question Tony asked.
“Everything alright, bud?” Tony whispered through his smile. “Wanda looked a little frazzled.”
“Everything’s fine, we’re fine,” Vision lied, doing his best to smile in the direction of the cameras. He was yet to master Tony’s people pleasing smile.
A break in the flashing allowed them to speak a little more candidly. “Anything you need to tell me about?”
“Nope,” Vision said confidently, backtracking towards the stairs. “Everything’s peachy!”
The inside of the hall was larger and more confusing that Vision was prepared for. The dancing was in full swing. It surprised him, he didn’t know that humans still danced this way, it didn’t match up with what he had seen on television or the internet. It made him grateful for the simulations he’d been running in the back of his mind all afternoon in the hopes that he wouldn’t be caught unawares. He must have included a waltz or two in there somewhere.
The building itself was grand, its ceiling arcing high above not unlike the interior of a church. Enormous windows lined the walls, curtains shifting as couples span around the dance floor. The architecture felt old, the whole building felt old to him. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling felt out of place, overly modern compared with their surroundings. He was momentarily distracted by curiosity, reaching into the power source of the building the electricity surging through its walls to power the bright lights. Interesting, he thought. It was all authentic wiring but he couldn’t understand how such old powerlines could power the sheer amount of light sockets the room held. He reached further and felt the familiar warmth of an arc reactor, hiding in the basement of the building. It made sense, this was a heritage building that Tony had received patronage of from his parents. This tangent came to a quick end as Vision made his way around the edge of the crowded middle of the hall. He ignored the looks he was getting, the general curiosity of the humans for once felt unimportant.
Vision bit his lip as his eyes search for Wanda. What he would say when he found her, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if she wanted an apology or if he even wished to give one. Vision couldn’t feel sorry for the emotions that thrummed through his heart when he saw her. He didn’t feel sorry for wanting to be more than a friend to Wanda. And it was difficult to see such feelings as one sided, not when the tension between them had become so tangible in recent days.
He caught sight of Wanda near the centre of the dancing pairs, Sam Wilson was twirling her around and around. It was a wonder she didn’t get dizzy. Even from here, and over the sound of the string quartet, Vision could hear her peal of laughter as they goofed around. Vision was about to start making his way through the crowd when Natasha grabbed his elbow. It was the second time he had been forcibly stopped from going to Wanda’s side and he was beginning to get frustrated.
“Are you about to cause a scene?” Natasha asked, her grip tight on his arm.
Vision didn’t reply.
“Because I am all for making scenes,” Nat smirked, “but maybe not at a charity event?”
Vision looked sideways at Natasha, wondering precisely how much he should tell her. He trusted her, but also knew she was usually Wanda’s confidant.
“I just want to talk to her,” Vision said quietly. Natasha smiled fondly at him, her eyes shining with understanding.
“I’ll get you close enough.”
Vision was about to ask how she planned to do this when she grabbed both his hands and pulled him out into the swirling mass of couples. Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had taken the time to pick up some basics before tonight.
Natasha led, using her hands to weave around dancing couples. Vision smiled. He was nervous but Natasha’s ease as they danced made him feel more relaxed. Her grace on the battlefield had never been in doubt, but he had never seen her properly dance before. This Natasha was something else.
She smiled brightly as they spun around and around, getting closer and closer to Wanda and Sam who were still dancing on the other side of the room.
As they neared Natasha had Vision spin her around once before extending her out towards Sam and Wanda.
Nat tapped Wanda’s shoulder and held her hand out to Sam. “Mind if I steal your partner for a bit?”
Wanda grinned and scrunched her nose, “be my guest, I’m sure he’d appreciate someone who actually knows how to dance.”
“Yeah, but not someone’s who’s better than me!” Sam said indignantly but smiled at Nat and took her hand. Nat sent a meaningful look at Vision over Wanda’s shoulder.
Wanda turned around to leave the dance floor only to come face to face with Vision’s outstretched hand, and the barely restrained nerves on his face. To Vision’s surprise she didn’t hesitate in taking his invitation. Slowly they eased themselves back into the crowd for a waltz. Her hand slid onto his shoulder, as Vision rested his hand on her waist. This time Wanda didn’t pull away.
“You look beautiful, Wanda.” It was something of an understatement, but Vision didn’t quite know how to put into words exactly the reaction Wanda was giving him.
“Thank you, Vision,” she smiled her eyes looking everywhere except his face. “You look nice too.”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Vision began hesitantly.
“Yes,” Wanda sighed, not unhappily, “we do need to talk.”
They were quiet a few more moments, swaying with the violins echoing to the ceiling high above them. Wanda’s dress swirled about her legs, and Vision had to take care to note step on her hem. He’d never forgive himself if he stepped on her toes. The music shifted and the dancers began to change directions. Wanda and Vision did their best to follow suit. Vision pulled her closer to avoid the clumsiness of another couple.
Wanda shivered under his touch, her hand had shifted to brace herself against his colour bone, her thumb brushing his neck. He gazed down at her, wondering if she could feel how quickly his pulse was thrumming.
They must have looked strange, standing still that and so Wanda broke the spell by taking a step back. Vision pulled his arm back around, finding her waist again and began to dance slowly.
Wanda was looking at him fully now, and it took all of Vision’s periphery senses to make sure they didn’t get too lost in each other’s eyes and start crashing into other couples.
“You know I want you,” Vision said, hating how the words caught in his throat, a last attempt to stop himself from crossing their self-imposed line.
“No,” Wanda murmured, her eyes darting around apprehensively. “There are too many people.”
“Are you ashamed?” Vision pushed. He needed answers and if he had to be let down, he’d rather it be now.
Wanda frowned, her brows pulling together. She shook her head, looking down from him to gather her thoughts.
Vision started a little as she spoke within his head, she glanced up at him, her eyes glowing a dark red that matched her dress. ‘Of course, I am not ashamed of you, I would never, ever want you to think that.’
“Then—” Vision said out loud, but Wanda continued.
‘But there are doors we can’t go through.’
Vision did his best to think clearly so that she would hear his thoughts. His words were becoming too personal to speak aloud. ‘You say that, but the only thing that matters here is us, what we think and what we want.’
When Wanda didn’t reply for a moment, he repeated himself. ‘I want you.’
His meaning couldn’t be lost with her in his head. He knew she saw it, saw his feelings.
‘I know,’ her voice whispered somewhere between his ears. ‘It’s hard for me too—’
Vision waited for her to continue, barely conscious that they were still spinning across the marbled floor of the grand hall.
‘But I’m afraid – how can you be sure this will work. How do you know we won’t break each other?’
Her words said one thing, but his mind heard another. Wanda wasn’t worrying about herself, no, she was consumed by the fear that she would hurt him, break his newly fragile heart.
‘You underestimate my strength,’ Vision replied, smiling. ‘You couldn’t break my heart; it is what it is because of you. Will you not let us even try?’
When Wanda didn’t reply Vision spoke aloud. “No one gets to decide who we are without our permission.”
“This is bigger than us,” Wanda whispered, leaning closer to him.
“It shouldn’t be.”
“I know.”
Vision dipped his head down, to reach Wanda’s cheek and press a tender kiss to it. “I want to decide my own destiny, with you. I would rewrite the stars if it meant a lifetime by your side.”
Wanda didn’t say anything, and he wasn’t able to see her expression before she sent herself off twirling away. When she reached the end of his grip, he pulled her back in. For a second Vision thought his bold words would all be in vain, that his confession wouldn’t trump Wanda’s fears. But then she was right before him, nose to nose, sharing the same air. He gazed into her eyes, slowing their dancing until they had come to a stop in the centre of the dance floor.
“Okay,” Wanda said, her eyes bright and a smile on her face. “Let’s rewrite the stars then.”
Vision was starstruck, both hands on her waist and totally lost in what she had just said. He was equally as shocked when Wanda slid her hands up over his shoulders and pulled him down to her mouth.
Vision stopped breathing, lost in the sensation of her lips moving against his own. It felt right, as right as anything could feel.
Vision felt Wanda jump before there was a harsh ringing above them and a fizzling pop. When he opened his eyes, sparks were flying down from above and the room sank into darkness. There was a commotion of cries of shock from the patrons. Vision pulled back to look around, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and then he felt it, the absence of a connection he had forgotten he had even forged. Vision laughed, feeling giddy. Slightly embarrassed that all it had taken was Wanda's kiss for him to overload a building's power source and blow every fixture.
“I, um,” Vision bit his lip, “I might have had something to do with that.”
Wanda laughed and it was music to his ears. He kissed her again, smiling into her embrace. Wanda was wrong about this not being in their cards. They were chaos and order, destined to collide.
#wandavision#scarletvision#WandaVision fanfiction#scarletvision fanfiction#wanda x vision#wanda maximoff#the vision#visionsofusfics#its about the yearning#rewrite the stars
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Just A Friend
And onto the next chapter. Thanks for your support for this story, it means a lot to me.
Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.
Hope you enjoy the next chapter
AO3
Previous
Chapter 8: From Dresses to Disco
I don’t have a huge wardrobe but, generally, I can lay hands on an outfit for most situations. For work, if I’m not in scrubs, I tend to wear plain black trousers and a shirt; for relaxing, I have more than enough jeans, leggings and comfy sweaters; for holidays, I have the usual range of shorts, t-shirts and sundresses.
I realise as I flick through the hangers in my wardrobe that what I am missing are outfits in the ‘dinner-dance-purely-platonic-plus-one’ category. And, what’s more, I don’t actually know how formal this thing is going to be.
Jamie was no use at all when I spoke to him about it.
“What sort of thing will your sister be wearing?” I asked as we met for coffee and a bacon sandwich two days ago.
“I dinna ken. A dress?” He hazarded a guess, looking a bit perplexed that I would even ask him.
“Long or short?” I persisted.
“Yes.”
“Well, which? Long or short?”
“Aye, one of them.”
“What are you wearing then... kilt? Black tie? Lounge suit?” This might give me a clue as to the dress code.
“I dare say I’ll be wearing a suit and tie.”
And that was as much assistance as I got from him.
I make the decision to go short. Partly because I don’t want to feel overdressed on Saturday, but mainly because the only long dress I have in my possession was purchased for a university Medics’ ball in 2008. And it’s crinkly satin with a side split and a wide leather belt that went with an over the top diamanté headband around my forehead.
Obviously, I will never wear it again, but I’m loath to part with it anyway. It reminds me of my time at university. Plus, it may come in handy… for a fancy dress party perhaps?
********
Geillis has decided, on the spur of the moment, to ‘jes’ pop ‘round fer a wee glass of wine’. That’s just a cover. What she actually wants is a ‘wee glass of wine’ while supervising my dress selection.
She takes a sip and reclines on my bed, casting a critical eye as I pull a few dresses out of my wardrobe and lay them next to her. She’s not giving much away as she continues to study them.
“Well?” I stand at the end of the bed and stare at her, waiting for her comments.
“I canna give ye ma answer ‘till I’ve seen them all,” she replies.
“That’s it. That’s all my fancy evening dresses.”
She stares at me in disbelief, before gazing once more at the three dresses displayed on the bed.
“Ye dinna have any more cocktail dresses, then?”
I shake my head. “‘Fraid not. When I go cocktail drinking, I tend to wear something more casual. There’s not a great call for fancy frocks when it’s two for one cocktails at the ‘Slug and Lettuce’.”
She sighs very loudly and grimaces. We’ve had these conversations often enough over the years. She despairs about my lack of interest in fashion. It’s true, I can’t tell a Marc Jacobs from a Marks and Spencer. Well, I possibly could, but you get my drift. I tried to be fashionable back in 2008 and look where it got me— wearing a dress that resembled a sweetie wrapper with a headband that brought me out in a rash.
I sometimes wonder if the real reason that she has asked me to be a bridesmaid has less to do with being best friends and more to do with being able to control what I’m going to wear. I’m joking of course, it’s because we’re best friends— Geillis choosing my dress is just an added perk for her.
“So, I think ye wear this one.” She gets up, moves me to one side and quickly rifles through the wardrobe, giving a cry of triumph as she finds what she’s looking for.
I knew it—I knew she would remember that dress. She was with me when I bought it— a late night Sauvignon Blanc fuelled online purchase. She describes it as my “hello boys” dress. I’ve never worn it and this is not the occasion for its inaugural outing.
I mean, it’s a lovely dress— black with an off the shoulder bardot neckline and very, very form fitting. But totally not the message I want to send to Jamie.
I shake my head. “Nope… no way. Not that one.”
I point instead to a dress lying on the bed, originally bought for a hospital fundraiser last year. It’s very nice and infinitely more suitable— black with sparkly red splodges; a slight v neck and fitted bodice going into a flared skirt. It even has pockets.
Geillis raises her hands in exasperation. “Fine. Have it yer way. But, Claire, do ye no’ want tae mebbe try it?”
I grab the dress from her and stuff it back in the wardrobe, ignoring her last comment. But she doesn’t give up so easily.
“See what could happen, eh?”
I turn to face her. “I know what could happen. He’ll think that I’m after him and that I’ll be it. End of friendship.”
“But mebbe—“
I interrupt her. “No maybe about it. Besides all this is missing the point. I want Jamie in my life as a friend, the same way that you and Mary and Anna are in my life. I don’t want anything more from him. I don’t need any romance. Can you understand that?”
“Aye but—“
She’s still not willing to drop the subject and I’ve had enough. I drain my glass of wine and start to walk out of the bedroom.
“No buts. That’s it. Just drop it, please.” At the doorway, I pause. “Now, do you want another glass?”
She starts to follow me. “Of course. And sorry,Claire, I dinna mean tae annoy ye. It’s jes’—“ she stops herself before saying anymore.
“Ok... Shall we order a takeaway,then?”
As I head into the living room, with Geillis following, I’m pretty sure I can hear her muttering under her breath about taking chances.
***************
Jamie said he would pick me up at seven. I’m clearly still working on Frank time, as I’m ready with fifteen minutes to spare. I perch on the edge of a chair, trying not to crease my dress, smudge my mascara or run my fingers through my hair.
I must admit, I have enjoyed the whole formal dressing up process. It’s not something I do too often— my socialising tends to be of a more relaxed nature. But this makes a welcome change.
With five minutes to spare, the bell rings. I gather up my pashmina and clutch bag and make my way downstairs, my high heeled sandals making a clacking sound against the old floor tiles.
Jamie is waiting outside, next to his old french blue Triumph Stag sports car. Like he said, he’s wearing a suit—dark grey instead of his usual navy blue. Still with a white shirt and a rust coloured paisley tie. His auburn curls nestle against his jacket collar. He looks immaculate.
In a parody of a chauffeur, he touches his forelock, bows and opens the passenger door for me. “M’lady,” he adds with his customary half grin.
“Thank you, Parker,” I reply primly and arrange my skirt under me as he scoots around to the driver side.
I do like this car. It’s old, a bit threadbare in places and smells slightly of damp. But it positively oozes vintage style and glamour. Fortunately the hardtop is on as the clouds are gathering ominously overhead.
“I thought we were getting a taxi. Are you not drinking?” I ask as he starts to drive.
Keeping his eyes on the road, he snorts with laughter. “No’ drinking? What kind of rugby ‘do’ d’ye think this is? No, I’ll leave the car at the club and we can get a taxi, if that’s ok wi’ ye.”
We drive on in silence for a couple of miles. Not an awkward silence, just a we-don’t-really-have-to -make-small-talk kind of silence.
“I’d have thought you’d be wearing a kilt tonight.” I comment.
“Hmm, weel, I do like tae wear it fer special occasions, but, when the rugby lads get together, who kens what can happen. Trousers tend tae be the safer option.”
“You could always wear underpants,” I suggest.
He looks horrified at the suggestion. “Dinna be saying that tae a true Scot, Sassenach.”
“I consider myself suitably chastised.”
“Glad ye realise that.” He smiles and changes the subject totally. “Sae, on our table this evening, there’ll be ma sister Jenny and her husband Ian, and Rupert, ye ken Rupert, and his wife Morag.”
“Oh, so you know Rupert— outside of work, I mean.”
“Aye, we grew up together. And Ian too. Mind, he was a couple of years older than Rupert and me— same age as Jenny—and always used tae follow her around like a wee pup. I’ve only known Morag a couple of years though. She’s nice but verra quiet. She lets Rupert do most of the talking.”
“I liked Rupert.”
“He’s a great bloke. Best decision I made, asking him tae join me at FraserFoods. Ian’s a great bloke too. Ye’ll like him.”
Jamie pulls the car into the rugby club car park, and switches the engine off. He sits still for a moment, staring through the windscreen. I can hear music coming from the large marquee lit up with lanterns and residing on one of the rugby pitches. Even though it’s early in the evening, there’s plenty of raucous laughter coming from that direction too. No doubt the bar has already seen plenty of action.
“Well?” I elbow him in the ribs.
“Sorry. I was jes’ thinking about how best tae describe Jenny.” He turns and smiles. “She’s the best sister a chap could want and a true friend— once she gets tae know ye. She can be a wee bit, shall we say, prickly, at first. And she thinks she kens what’s best fer me, as only a big sister can. She thinks ma life is no’ complete… no’ wi’out a wife and a couple of bairns.”
“Have you explained that this isn’t a date… that we’re friends?”
“Aye, I’ve told her that,” he gives a little laugh and nods his head towards the marquee. “Sae she’ll most likely be in there right now scouring the place fer any suitable contenders.”
He gets out of the car and is at the passenger door before I’ve had a chance to unfasten my seatbelt and gather my pashmina around my shoulders.
“M’lady,” resuming the chauffeur role, he opens the door for me.
I clamber out, somewhat ungainly and wait as he locks the car. Even with my highest heels on, I still have to crane my neck to look at him as he stands up straight and adjusts his jacket.
“Shall we?” He gestures the marquee with his hand.
“God, yes. I could do with a gin and tonic. I’m parched.” Plus, I reckon I need a stiff drink or two down my throat before I meet Jenny. She sounds formidable.
“C’mon then.” And he leads the way into the marquee.
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The Proposal Chapter 3
Jensen Ackles x Reader
Story Summary: Jensen needs help keeping his life in order. To keep the media off his back. In order to do so, he comes up with a plan. Y/N, just a producer’s assistant, is pulled in to play a part she never thought she would have. Jensen’s fiancee. Only will it stay as a part to play, or will she start to want more?
Catch Up Here: Masterpost
Warnings: N/A
wonderful header made by @impala-dreamer
You were torn. Sure, you trusted Ruth, and wanted her opinion. But this was still something new, and secretive. If you told her, and it leaked out, what would that mean for you?
“Can we just go shopping?” You offered a weak smile. She nodded, and you were relieved when she dropped the subject.
Twenty minutes later Ruth was pulling in front of this nondescript brick building. The long windows were filled with various mannequins, all dressed in vintage and funky clothing. The parking lot had only two other cars in it, and you turned to Ruth with a questioning eye.
“I promise, it looks better on the inside,” she promised, dragging you inside. Immediately bypassing the cheap t-shirts and jeans, she headed to the corner of the store. You followed closely behind, glancing at the clothes, amazed at the selection. Sure, there were the usual ripped t-shirts and stained jeans. But the majority of the clothes were well cared for. Many were items you wanted to purchase and wear to work.
“Here we are,” Ruth announced, sweeping her hand out. The back corner of the store seemed to be a store in its own. An archway covered in fairy lights set the area away from the rest. Inside were rows of dresses, skirts, and blouses. Shoes and jewelry were craftily arranged on the other side.
“What is this place?” You asked, gently running a silky sleeve through your hand, gasping at the price tag. “This is only twelve dollars!”
Ruth smiled knowingly, plucking a green jumpsuit from the rack and holding it in front of her. “This is the best-kept secret in Vancouver. A wardrobe lady told me about it, and I make sure to stop by at least once a week when I’m up here.”
You were mesmerized by the selection, but Ruth was on a mission. “I know you said it’s strictly business, but it is with Jensen. That man always shows up in his best, and no doubt expects you to as well. We need to stun the man.”
She had a pile of clothes in her hand before you even had one picked, ushering you to the dressing room. “Here, try these on.” She insisted.
The first thing she had picked out was a skirt and matching top, both a slinky, silver. They were soft against your skin but seemed more suited for the club than a dinner. Tossing them to the side, you pulled out the next dress. It was short, barely mid-thigh, a straight cut of turquoise. It was pretty, but as you stepped out to show Ruth, you kept tugging on the hem, trying to lower it.
“Hmm, not yet,” she muttered, ushering you back into the room.
The third dress was more of a sundress. It was strapless, with a tight bodice and a skirt that flared slightly all the way to your knees. It was a shimmery blue that changed to purple or silver with your movements. It was elegant without being too much.
You stepped out in front of the mirror and immediately Ruth clapped her hands together. “I knew that one would be perfect. Absolutely stunning my dear.”
Taking a deep breath, you glanced down at the sales tag. “It’s only $30!” You exclaimed. With that price, you could get shoes and maybe even a necklace.
She nodded knowingly. “Come, let’s find some shoes.”
An hour later you were back at your apartment, your purchases placed carefully on your bed, waiting for you to get dressed. You had taken a shower and was currently in the middle of applying makeup when your phone rang.
Hello?” You answered, placing the phone on speaker.
“Y/N!” Your brother, Luke, exclaimed.
“Hey Luke,” You sighed, almost messing up your mascara as you smiled at the sound of his voice. “What’s up? You never call on Fridays.”
“I miss you,” he whispered, breaking your heart.
Setting your makeup down, you put all of your concentration on the phone call. “Luke, I miss you too buddy.”
His bubbly little voice had you homesick. “They’ve been so mean to me,” he continued to whisper. “Y/N, they won’t let me play baseball this year. They said it was too expensive. But they let Emily do ballet, and that cost more.”
“You know our Aunt and Uncle are doing the best they can,” You tried assuring him. “And I’m sure there’s another reason…,”
“I want to come live with you!” He insisted. “When Y/N? You promised!”
“Soon buddy, I promise,” you assured him, knowing that with the check from this fake engagement you were no longer lying. It was so close to becoming a reality. “I just need to save up a little more, and then I can fight our aunt and uncle for your guardianship.”
“I can’t wait,” he sighed.
As much as you wanted to continue talking to your brother, you were already running behind schedule. “Talk tomorrow?” You offered.
After a half-hearted okay, you hung up, a tear slipping down your cheek. It was so hard, being separated from your little brother after your parents had died. But soon, maybe all of that would change. As soon as this fake engagement was over at least.
Taking a deep breath you finished your makeup, changing into that perfect little dress, and the heels that Ruth had found. Making your way to the parking lot, you knew your little ford escort would look so out of place at that fancy restaurant. Which is exactly how you had a feeling you would feel.
Forcing yourself to move forward, you settled in behind the wheel, heading towards the coast. You turned the music up loud, singing along as you fought rush hour traffic. Swerving in and out of the slow-moving vehicles, you finally snitched a parking spot off to the side with two minutes to spare.
The place was already packed. Smoothing down your skirt as you moved, you stepped up to the hostess. “Reservation for Jensen Ackles,” you announced. Her eyes widened, staring at you in surprise before pointing to the back.
“You’re here...with..,” she stuttered, stepping aside so you could pass. Smiling at her, you headed to his secluded table. He was staring down at the menu, his thumb rubbing up and down the neck of a beer bottle.
He had dressed up nicely, just as Ruth had said he would. A black button-up underneath a grey sports suit. He looked extremely handsome, and you stopped in your tracks, wondering what the hell you were doing. There was no way anyone would believe that this man would be madly in love with a girl like you.
Read Chapter 4
Dean/Jensen Tags: @acortez82 @acreativelydifferentlove @adoptdontshoppets @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @bi-danvers0 @cap-just-said-language @colette2537 @deansgirl215 @flamencodiva @hamiltrash1411 @its-not-a-tulpa @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @justanotherwinchester @just-another-winchester @karouwinchester @keikoraventeller @krys198478 @librarygeekery @magssteenkamp @misspygmypie @mlovesstories @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @mrspeacem1nusone @nothinbuttrouble2 @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @screechingartisancashbailiff @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @squirrelnotsam @team-free-will-you-idjiot @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @torn-and-frayed @tricksterdean @wonderfulworldofwinchester @woodworthti666
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Forever Tags: @aditimukul @alexwinchester23 @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @camelotandastronauts @caswinchester2000 @cpag7 @chelsea072498 @closetspngirl @deanwanddamons @docharleythegeekqueen @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008 @esoltis280 @foxyjwls007 @gh0stgurl @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @heartislubbingdubbing @heyitscam99 @hobby27 @horsegirly99 @imsuperawkward @internationalmusicteacher @iwriteaboutdean @jayankles @jensen-gal @justsomedreaming @just-another-busyfangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @linki-locks11 @littleblue5mcdork @lowlyapprentice @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @mogaruke @monkeymcpoopoo @musiclovinchic93 @nanie5 @percussiongirl2017 @plaid-lover-bay25 @roonyxx @ronja-uebrick @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @simonsbluee @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @superbadassnatural @thatcrazybookwormgeek @thewinchesterchronicles @vvinch3st3r @whimsicalrobots @winchester-writes @zombiewerewolfqueen
#the proposal#jensen ackles x reader#supernatural x reader#supernatural rpf#katy writes#spn fanfic#jensen fanfic#jensen x reader#jensen x y/n#y/n#reader insert
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replacement | ten lee
( masterlist here! )
word count : 5.3k
pairing : ten x reader
song suggestion : stand by me — wayv
“i can’t do this.”
“you have too! we can’t ignore the orders of the royal family,” the man huffed, watching his daughter cross her arms over her chest.
“come on baby, we have to agree. you’ll get married to the prince!” her mother strived to lift her mood up, trying to convince her to this alliance.
“have you heard how awful the prince is? he doesn’t even speak let alone to any females, i won’t marry a man like that. no matter how rich or what title he’ll give me!”
the parents sighed, knowing the reputation of the prince. since they lived in prosperity, it was only fair for their daughter to be invited as one of the to-be brides for the prince. it’s certainly an honour, a great honour to be tagged as the future queen of weyni, to stand next to the future king with dignity.
just then the trio broke into silence, wondering what they should do. they can’t reject the king’s orders, which could result in a penalty or even death. her father twitched at the thought of dying, trailing his eyes over to the person who walked in.
“where should i keep these presents that you received from madam seo?”
“just put it right there.” the mother sighed, stroking her child’s hair lovingly.
nodding the gifts were set on the table, glowing in different coloured wrapping papers from the fanciest aristocrats. just as the father's eyes set on the figure he immediately stopped her.
“i have a solution, you.” he pointed, “you’ll be the replacement of my daughter.”
your eyes widened, “me?” watching the man’s head nod furiously.
“honey, she doesn’t even know the rules or regulations of aristocracy!” her eyes raked you head to toe, “plus she isn’t even that pretty, the prince would reject her anyway.” you bit your lip, because wow women thanks.
“that’s it!” the daughter smacked her hands on her thighs, “the prince doesn’t know how i look like, she’ll be the perfect alternative for me!”
“but miss, you played with the prince when you both were younger. i simply can’t be fitted to do this, as said by your mother,” you muttered, trying to use the nicest voice you had so that you could get out of this ambush.
“he won’t remember me anyway, i want you to go and marry the prince. that’s it, final.” you looked at her, words ready to pour but the glint her mother was giving you made you shut up and look down at your shoes.
“okay.”
the weeks of preparing had made you go insane, waking up early was never a hassle for you but since the day you were told to become choa (the original chosen one) every day felt like five years.
the constant mannerisms, how to put on face art, how to stand, wander, waltz and style yourself were making you lose sleep. all your life you’ve been a maid for them, you’ve always listened to them because they provided you with a place to stay and live at.
but being chosen as the potential bride for the prince left you wanting to pack all your stuff and run away from this house. but of course, the patrols who policed this place would not hesitate to call you out in front of the family.
“use the soup spoon!” you flinched at her yell, your confused eyes wandering over at the fancy china placed in front of you. you timidly reached out for spoon on the far edge of the table, looking at her eyes turn into slits as she smacked a wooden ruler over your knuckles.
“that one!” you nibbled on your lower lip in a try to repress the pain and reached out for the cutlery.
and then here you were, dressed in a baby blue dress that clings on your silhouette. small details of pearls were attached to the bodice, you watched choa set your hair into a half up half down updo and then reaching out for the beautiful pearl pin next to you and attaching it in your hair.
“there, now you’re all ready, the carriage will be out in a few. remember what i said to you, if they find out that you aren’t me, apologize for everything ever possible. say that i have terrible face blotch that wouldn’t suit for a queen, so they sent you.” you nodded, watching her lips lift up in the tiniest smile.
she patted your shoulder, “you’ll do fine, just make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” and with that, you walked out to the carriage that stood in front of the property. your heart hammering in your chest with every step you took, the white lacy gloves turning slightly wet at the nervousness you eluded out.
the shoes you were wearing stuck right up against your feet, hurting with every step you took. you didn’t mind wearing them, they were pretty, but you preferred not to wear them because of the discomfort they give.
“miss choa welcome, i’m the prince’s most trusted man. call me lucas,” he extended his hand out to you, you looked at him before hesitantly meeting his hands, immediately he grasped your hand and shook it violently.
“it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir lucas.” you jerked your hand away, bowing slightly just the right amount for a lady.
“i hope you don’t get tired of continuous talking but that’ll be your entire journey to the palace with me!” you smiled at his expressions, if he’s this handsome imagine how handsome the prince must be.
you stepped in the carriage with the help of lucas, leaning back on the cushioned seat you faced him, “hmm, weird? usually, parents would be crying sending their daughters but yours don’t seem to be out.”
you looked at him in panic, “ah— they’re on a trip to neyo kingdom, they won’t be back until the next day.” you brushed it off by laughing nervously as he flashed his big smile.
without a fail, lucas had managed to lighten up your mood by cracking hilarious jokes. you let out a laugh here and there at his facial expressions, “by the way ten seems intimidating, but trust me he really isn’t.”
your were a bit taken back, did he just address the by his name? he must’ve been real close to him.
“i’ve heard stories about him, are you sure?” you raised an eyebrow, recalling all the terrifying encounters people have had with him. but you never heard a rumour about him being insensitive or not adequate for a king, perhaps he’s just shy? no, that’s not what everyone said, he’s a silent and a very observant person.
he laughed loudly, “i’m a hundred and ten percent sure that those stories are fabricated! you’ll see it when we reach there if of course, you’re the chosen bride!” you swallowed the lump formed in your throat and fiddled with the hem of your dress.
hoping that lucas was right about him not killing you, but also hoping that he wouldn’t choose you at all. even if he does choose you, you’d want him to marry someone else, being a queen wasn’t on your agenda. you were nowhere near to becoming a queen, let alone stand beside the prince. you were just a maid, constructed to work for them not court them.
for what seemed like hours, you were jolted awake by lucas’s yell. “we’re here! look it’s the palace!” you shoved the curtains to the side, squinting through the sun blaring in your eyes.
in front of you was the castle of weyni, the white marble shinning against the sunshine. the huge building was ethereal, stunning to say the least. unconsciously your heart trembled against your rib cage, hands turning sweaty as the coach pulled towards the imperial entrance.
“don’t be nervous, they won’t kill you, at least everyone except maybe ten. . “ you widened your eyes, hearing him fall into fits of laughter.
“come down, milady.” you chuckled at lucas’s sudden change in etiquette, seeing him smile as he led you inside.
“this is where you’ll be living, for now, the palace has enough rooms for the whole kingdom, so you won’t have to share a room with any of the other candidates.” the two of you walked down the hall, hearing your heel click against the floor.
you nodded, ready to thank him for his niceness but unexpectedly interrupted by a random person dressed in all black walking in. “lucas come in my room right now, need some help for the war tactics—“ you felt his eyes land on you, scanning them over your body.
you at first were a bit taken aback by his facial characteristics, his piercing eyes shooting daggers at you. the sharp jaw of his, the slim nose and slightly plump lips. outfitted in an all-black, almost general like clothing. several badges hung from his pocket, you guessed he was one of the soldiers.
“and who are you? never seen you in the palace.” his voice was stern and deep, you looked at lucas who was trying to scuffle out some words from his mouth.
“i’m jung choa, one of those stupid candidates for the prince’s wife,” you spoke us mindlessly, seeing lucas’s widened eyes from your peripheral. while the man in front of you smirked.
“stupid? my lady, i think you’d like some manner classes first?” you scowled at the man’s narrowed eyes, “keep them to yourself, you might need them for the way you look at women up and down.”
lucas held back a laugh, reaching over to pat his brother’s shoulder, “that’s your defeat.” he laughed, ushering a hand over to you and motioning towards the door. you nodded and glared at the black outfitted man before walking in the room.
“she’ll be so shocked when she finds out who you are, i’m gonna tell kun about this!” he turned his back, excited to yell in the headquarters.
“nuh uh,” he reached out to grasp his shirt, “don’t tell her who i am, keep the show going.” he smirked, while lucas laughed.
***
from the way that man talked to you, you were sure he was some arrogant general who served the prince. but then you wondered, if that was his worker, then how would the prince himself be like? would he be as scary as the rotten brained man outside? you sure hope not.
lucas had knocked on the room door you were provided with, reminding you that the first ceremony of this whole alliance would be starting and to dress to impress. a sudden feeling bloomed in your stomach, would you see the prince tonight?
you glanced at yourself in the mirror, “who am i kidding, i’m just a replacement. the worst that could happen to me is that I’d get banished.” you sighed, perhaps wanting to be banished so that you could go back to where you came from and hopefully find what yearned for so long.
exiting the room you came face to face with the sane black outfitted man, you scowled immediately watching him smirk in amusement. he lifted his finger, twirling it back and forth. you stood there looking at his face, watching him sigh and drop his hand back.
“you’re really dumb aren’t you?” he said, “you’re already late for the meeting, you do know that the prince doesn’t like tardy people?” he crossed his arms and leaned on the wall, cocking his left eyebrow at you.
you let out a scoff. “look mister, I really don’t want to argue with you right now, so please step aside so that i won’t get hated by the prince.” you moved passed him, hearing him let out a chuckle.
“i’m pretty sure he already dislikes you,” he watched as the girl walked away from him.
***
as soon as you entered the room, you saw multiple women standing in their groups. many of them already conversing with one another while you stood to the side, trying not to associate with them because what if they catch onto your act? you’d be dead meat if they catch onto the tiniest flaw of yours, women are definitely more vigilant. you’d be caught in no time.
“please gather around young ladies, we’ll start with the first stage of finding our future potential queen.” the crowd around you seemed to have been excited by the number of squeals that left their mouths.
“how about we start with our very favourite, waltz.” you bit on your lower lip, the waltz was definitely not your cup of tea. unless stepping on others' shoes just like you had done to the real choa, you’d be disqualified in the first round.
“please select your partners that are standing on the blue line, you’ll be assessed on your posture and how gracefully you dance.” you looked over at the men standing on the blue line, others had already started to stand in front of them so you made your way towards them quickly.
but to your dismay, it looked as if everyone had a companion, except you. the spokesman seemed to have noticed that and assured you to stand on the side until one of the men comes in, you nodded with a smile and stood by the corner watching everyone start to mingle.
you tapped your shoe on the floor along with the beat of the music, sighing you leaned backwards, “i’ll be out quicker than possible,” you looked out the window. “perhaps then i can finally go where i’ve been wanting too.” you mumbled.
“where do you want to go?” you jumped back at the sudden voice that arose from behind you, you spun on your heels to see the same man outfitted in black clothes near to your face.
taking a step back you sighed, “none of your business.” he nodded and leaned on the wall beside you. you scooted as far away from him as you could, “aren’t you going to dance, miss candidate?”
you rolled your eyes and pointed at the lack of partners, “i’ll just have to wait for someone to come in and dance with me.” hearing a hum escape his lips you faced him.
“what are you doing here? shouldn’t you be the prince or what not?” you inquired, for someone who bumps into you consistently you’d wonder if he actually does anything.
“well it’s my home too, i can do whatever i want.” you scoffed and crossed your arms.
“your highn—“
“yes! what would you like?” you looked at the spokesman and the blond, watching the two in confusion before speaking up.
“um, there isn’t enough partners, so i’d like to sign of—“
“i’ll dance with you.” you shot your eyes up at the blond, “you what?” he merely shrugged before taking your wrist and pulling you to the floor, draping his arm around your waist and jerking you closer.
“what do you think you’re doing?” you looked around at the expression of the others, some gaping or some whispering. while your heart took a speed of a motorcycle engine.
“dancing.” you grit you teeth at the man before hearing him yelp, “sorry, i’m not exactly the best at this.” you looked down at the print of sole on his black shiny shoe.
“why are they all looking at you like you’re a well-known person or something?” you looked around to meet the eyes of the spokesman who gave you a sly smile.
“let’s just say, i’m fairly very loved.” you rolled your eyes, seeing him smile slightly before twirling you.
after a few more conversations of the blond being an absolute delusional ignorant man, you were finally free from him and his hands that were constantly positioned on your waist. the evaluation tallies were taped on a wall, the slinky white sheet of paper trying to hold on to its best.
you squinted you’re eyes to make out the names that were on the loose-leaf, roaming your eyes up and down to find your name on it. you internally grunted, “great, i’m stuck for another one of this crap.”
you walked outside the room instantly being hit by the cool air that swirled through your hair, you smiled and looked around. “thank god i survived, god knows what happens to those who don’t make it.”
you looked at the two girls walking out to the porch, “what happens to the girls who don’t make it?” you didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but your instinct told you to go and hide behind the tall wooden stump.
“i heard they go to the some manners classes, held by madame choi.” you shuddered at the name, everyone knew who she was. the infamous teacher in weyni, so strict that if you breathe the wrong way, you’re automatically considered dead.
you thanked the god that you made it, you made a praying gesture to the sky before you ur eyes caught the blond-haired man’s back. you bit your lower lip if it weren’t for him to waltz in at the last minute. you would have been shipped away to madame choi’s wrath, so you started taking slow steps towards the man.
forgetting how he treated you, you were, in fact, very grateful for his actions. you needed to thank him for saving your ass last minute, “hey!” you yelled at the man, jogging towards him.
“hey! blondie!” the man spun on his heels to see you running down the hallways like a damsel in distress, a smirk adorning his lips and tilted his head in amusement.
you halted to catch your breath, hands on your knees as you inhaled and exhaled. “you. . . thank you, for saving me back there.” you tucked the wisps of your hair at the back of your ear, his eyes trailed over your face.
“no sweat, ms. candidate.” he smiled and turned around but you stopped him just in time.
“wait! aren’t you going to tell me your name? or do you want to be called as a blondie?” you looked at his back, he turned to look right a smile never leaving his face.
“lee, call me lee.”
it had been around a week since you came here, surprisingly not being caught at all. but to your fathom, you had been seeing lee almost every day. sometimes him being outside your room, or at the evaluation, chambers standing next to the spokesman, or even how he had joined you on a walk.
“why would they name you lee? isn’t that a weird name?” you asked, wriggling your feet that hovered above the ground.
he laughed, “isn’t it a cool warrior name?” you shook your head in disbelief.
“you sound more like the town shoemaker rather than a warrior.” you looked at him and tsked, he looked at you, scrunching his nose a tiny bit. cute
“don’t tell me you don’t know what a shoemaker is.” you dropped your jaw when he looked at you with a blank expression.
“i know what a shoemaker is, but. . “ you furrow your eyebrows.
“but, what?”
“i’ve never been to the town.” your mouth hung open, “y-you’ve never been to the town?” you clarified.
“i don’t have that much freedom when it comes to this, you know being stuck here and doing roy— war duties and all.” you nodded, overlooking at the sun setting on the horizon.
“let’s go.” he turned his face to you, “what?”
you hopped of the ledge, “let’s go, i’m taking you to the town.”
***
“here! they sell the best bread in weyni, do you wanna try some?” you reached over to pick the hot loaf of bread and shove it in lee’s hands.
he flinched at the hotness and chucked the bread at you, you gasped but caught the food before it hit the ground. you slapped his shoulder, “what do you think you’re doing? this stuffs expensive!”
“yea, but you can afford it!” he retorted and you paused in your stance, “it’s not easy too.” you mumbled underneath your breath.
he seemed to have barely caught onto that but shrugged anyway and yanked your wrist that held the piece of bread and shoved the bread in his mouth, “oh my god, this is heaven.” you looked at him, ignoring the blush coating your cheeks.
“told you,” you said before taking a bite, feeling his eyes on you.
“you know i’ve been paying for everything, i thought you were a gentleman,” you spoke, now the two of you walking down the night streets.
he chuckled, “when you find out who i am, you’ll get everything for free.” you shot him a quizzical look, hearing him clear his throat, “i mean when you marry the prince. you won’t be paying a single penny.”
you scoffed, “if i do, the prince seems like a stuck up, putting his wealth on me won’t make me happier.”
“you think the prince is a stuck up?” he inquired and you nodded.
“hm, that’s what everyone says. that he’s the brooding and dark prince, super observant and time conscious.” you dramatized as he fell into fits of laughter.
“what if the prince is good looking?” you said and he smirked, “i work with the prince, he’s breathtakingly handsome, girls just drool over him.” you chuckled dryly, sharing a bit of silence.
“the other day, when you said you wanted to go somewhere. . where did you want to go?” he looked at your side profile, eyes falling over your face.
“hmm, i wanted to go to the neyo kingdom. there’s someone i desperately want to meet.” he nodded but couldn’t help but feel the tugging at his heart.
you weren’t lying, these days made you feel more nostalgic. if you ended up winning this whole competition to become the wife of the prince, you’d need your family beside you to have your back as you walked down the aisle.
you looked at lee, grabbing the chance to acknowledge his facial characteristics. seeing the way his blond hair falls over his eyes, his sharp jawline to the bridge of his nose. his pinky lips and dark eyes that sent a foreign feeling in your stomach.
maybe if you weren’t forced in this, you could have tried to make a move on lee. because look at him, he’s just so attractive! yea, his personality is very snobby and self-absorbed but you could work with that.
“what if i win this?” you asked, looking at his face.
“you’ll be married to the prince, future queen of weyni.” you sighed running a hand through your hair and glimpsing at the perimeter.
“i—i don’t want this. . “ he whipped his head at you, “what?” the drumming of his heart increasing.
“i’m not who you think i am.” you shut your eyes, nibbling on your lower lip. “promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.” you looked at his anxious eyes.
extending your pinky finger at him and watching him gradually connect with yours, “i won’t.” you smiled, maybe this was the time to come clean. by any chance, if you did end up winning this (as you kept on passing the classes) you’re not sure how you’ll handle it.
“i’m not choa,” you spoke. “my name isn’t choa, but instead y/n. i’m just a mere maid who worked for the jung’s, i—i was forced into this because choa didn’t want to marry the prince.”
you watched his expression turn darker and you panicked, “i’m sorry about this whole thing but i couldn’t do anything about it, it was either to accept this or get forced.”
taking in a sharp breathe you continued, “i thought that maybe if i fail this whole competition thing, i’d be free and run away to neyo. that’s why the day you walked in, i wasn’t in the best mood because i could finally leave and get away from this place.”
you heard him inhale sharply, “please don’t think of like i’m bad, i was put in such a situation tha— lee!” you watched him leap off the ledge and start striding the other way.
“lee! please i’m sorry!” you cried out in frustration, watching his body slowly get farther and farther away. you raised your hands to rub over your face, “great, i lost the only friend i ever had.” the crack in your voice was the final threshold as tears poured out.
***
you stood motionlessly in a line next to three other women, you had somehow with luck made it to the top four. the last two weeks went by a blur, you didn’t see lee anymore. not even lucas, your everyday routine only consisted of the competition, food and sleep.
you had seen lee the day after you told him everything, you chased him down but he wouldn’t even spare a glance at you.
but instead you kind of deserved this, you hid such a big part of your identity. the restless feeling in your stomach would increase every day because what if he told everyone about who you were, you aren’t sure if you’re glad or not but he hasn’t told anyone.
or that’s what you think, you’ve never missed being at the jung mansion so much as the past weeks. you just wanted to leave everything and disappear, heck you even tried too but failed as someone caught you.
you snapped away from your thoughts when you heard the pope speak, “today is the last day, you’ll be meeting the prince as he’ll make his final decisions. may the odds forever be in your favour.” you sit down on the white wooden chair next to the other two while one of them strode inside.
you placed your hands on your lap, eyes never leaving the small ring decorating your index finger. you sighed, eyes trailing to the girl next to you. her dress was way more bright and beautiful than yours, you didn’t really care, you hoped she’d get chosen and become the spouse of prince ten and rule the kingdom fairly.
the door squeaked open and you saw a girl walk out, dread filling her eyes as she exited. you gulped watching the next one go in through the white door, your heart thumped against your rib cage. hands trembling slightly as you thought about every single outcome that could ensue.
you made your mind to tell the prince who you actually were, you couldn’t care less about the punishment or going to madame choi’s mannerism lessons. you wanted to tell him the truth, you couldn’t possibly marry him because— because you fell for lee, the stupid arrogant general who made your life miserable the first two weeks.
you didn’t even know how you came up with that, but you were sure you liked lee. you couldn’t possibly deny your attraction towards him and wed the prince. how could you marry someone who you don’t love?
“miss choa? please come in, the prince is waiting.” you hesitantly stood and nodded to the man who stood there opening the door for you. you gave him a small smile of appreciation and footed inside the room.
you stopped when the door closed, taking a deep breath you looked around the room. adorned in pure white marble, the high ceilings made you dizzy as you walked forward towards the body sitting facing the front.
prince ten definitely had a presence, although his body faced the other way you could feel his aura pour through. you furrowed your eyebrows slightly when you saw a familiar blond coloured hair, instantly reminded you of lee. but you brushed it and walked behind the prince,
“it’s nice to meet you, your majesty.” you stopped in front of him, but your eyes widened at what you saw— who you saw.
“lee?” you spoke lowly, his head lifts up to meet your eyes. your jaw dropped at him, what was he doing here? doesn’t he work for the p— oh my god, he’s the prince?
your eyes toured over his whole body, the black tux somehow looking even more expensive than how you’d seen him in. the white shirt inside clearly clung on to his body, the badges and chains that dangled from his pocket glistened.
“you’re prince t-ten?” you gaped, “why didn’t you tell me? why-y did you hide it?” you bombarded him with questions but he sat still, and then it finally hit you.
you hid your identity from him too, you shut your eyes and inhaled sharply. automatically your feet took you outside the room, you ignored the class from the guard and made your way towards the room you were given.
you hastily packed all your clothes, hands shaking in a rush as you flung your clothes in the bag— not caring about the way they were placed, you picked up the luggage and walked out.
since you walked around the castle grounds often with le—prince ten, he had shown you some hidden places. you laughed dryly, “never thought i’d be using them.” you brushed past the vines that drooped over you, seeing the bright light of the other side you smiled.
this was it, you’ll officially escape this. leave the life you had here so you could go visit your family in neyo, as soon as you stepped forward you were immediately yanked back onto a hard chest.
you squealed in surprise and looked up to see ten? “what are you doing?” you asked, his hand gripping on your wrist loosely. “leave my wrist, i could be punished for touching the prince.”
you heard him sigh, “i’m sorry,” you stared at your shoes.
“i didn’t tell you because you treated the way no one has ever done, the snarky remark you made you first saw me.” he laughed, “i didn’t want you to change and be that feared women, so i wanted to see you— see you become more comfortable around me,”
“i wo—“
“but if i told you who i was, you wouldn’t have dared to look at me.” you smiled, finding it funny that you wouldn’t be able to throw your sarcasm at him if he told you he was the prince.
the two of you stood in silence before you decided to speak up, "it’s alright,” you lifted your head, “we both hid our identities for different reasons. i think we’ve owned up to that.” you tapped his chest, escaping his hold on your wrist.
“but i’d have to go,” you raised your eyes to meet his.
“i didn’t exactly make it though the examination of yours. so it only makes sense that i leave, i hope the next time i see you, you’d have your wife standing beside you.” you smiled bitterly, clasping on your bag strap tighter before turning back to walk away.
“how would she stand beside me when she’s leaving me?” you stopped dead in your tracks, hearing him step towards you, so close that your back comes in contact with his chest. your heart picking up the velocity when you felt his breath linger down your neck.
you looked to the side, “what do you mean?” he smirked placing his hands on your waist and spun you around.
“won’t you marry me?” you met his eyes, smiling slightly at the tinge of playfulness I’m his voice. you looked at him in shock, mouth hanging low enough to hit the floor.
“nope.”
he pulled you away and slammed you against the wall behind, “what? why?”
“i like someone else.” you bit your lower lip, biting back the smile.
“who is it? is it someone in neyo? haw i knew it, i’ll kill him right now!” you burst out laughing, his eyes staring at you in confusion.
“why are you laughing? you’re leaving the prince of weyni to marry a random dude?” you tucked a stray piece of hair behind you ear.
“no, in fact he lives here, in the palace.” he tapped your chin for you to continue on.
“as a snobby man who always dresses in a black and has pride that’s bigger than the solar system, sound familiar?” you tilted your head to the side, his face lit in a smile and pulled you into his embrace.
you squealed in surprise when he nuzzled in your neck, “god, you’re going to be the death of me.”
#forgive me its my first oneshot#this a whole load of crap#pls forgive me#hope you all are doing well!!#ten#ten lee#nct ten#wayv ten#ten chittaphon#chittapon leechaiyapornkul#nct au#nct imagines#nct fluff#wayv fluff#wayv au#nct wayv#wayv x reader#wayv oneshot#nct oneshot#prince ten#kpop imagines#wayv imagines
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Next Steps - Ch. 9
Harry and Ginny’s Elopement!
A Beach Wedding
Hermione was sitting on the bed in Harry and Ginny’s suite in the bridesmaid dress she and Ginny had picked out just days prior. It was a short emerald green chiffon dress with a criss cross bodice and sweetheart neckline, and a halter strap that tied in the back. It was perfect for the beach.
The resort’s hairstylist and makeup artist had finished just a short time ago, taming Hermione’s unruly hair and setting it into a side chignon. Ginny’s hair was down and styled with soft curls that flowed effortlessly down her back. Both girl’s makeup had been done naturally, but accentuated their features.
Hermione heard the door to the bathroom open and Ginny stepped out. “How do I look?” she asked Hermione as she grinned widely.
“Ginny! You look stunning! Wait til Harry sees you!” Hermione gushed. Ginny had chosen a very simple, A-line white tulle gown. It was backless with a deep V neckline, spaghetti straps and an empire waistline. She was wearing bedazzled white flip flops underneath the flowing skirt.
There was a knock on the door and Hermione went to open it. It was the resort’s wedding planner, Jessica. “Hello, ladies! Are you almost ready? It’s time to head down to the beach now. We’ll get you two set behind the barrier before your men take their places, and then we’ll get this show on the road!”
“Almost,” Hermione said as she walked over to the dresser and picked up the small gold pendant necklace and clasped it around Ginny’s neck. She then picked up the two bouquets and handed one to Ginny. They’d chosen a beautiful arrangement of white lilies for Ginny, and Hermione’s was similar, but included light pink lilies with baby’s breath instead. Hermione grabbed hers and Ginny’s room keys and tucked them inside her dress as they followed Jessica out to the wedding venue.
As they neared the location, they could see the archway set up, and the aisle that was laden with flower petals. The weather was absolutely beautiful. The sun was shining, and the soft sound of the waves meeting the sand in the background was soothing.
“The photographer will capture the ceremony, and then he will take you for pictures around the property. After that, we’ve got a private dining room set up for you at the Black Angus.” They were now behind the barrier. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the gentleman and then we’ll get you married!” Jessica smiled brightly and took off to get Harry and Ron.
“Last chance,” Hermione said jokingly. “If you want to back out, you better run now!”
“Very funny, and I’ll remember that when it’s your turn,” Ginny teased.
“Thank you for letting us be a part of this, Ginny.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. It just happened to work out perfectly and we only needed a little extra planning.”
“I still can’t believe we pulled it off in a few days. And without the rest of the Weasleys finding out.”
Hermione was thinking about the whirlwind of shopping they’d done after they’d visited their travel agent the day after Christmas. There’d been a 4:00 slot open for a wedding at the resort, which Ginny gladly claimed, and from there they’d ironed out the rest of the details. It helped that they didn’t have a formal reception that needed planning, so they’d opted for a private dinner in the fanciest restaurant, and then after they’d planned to go to the adult nightclub for some dancing in their attire.
They’d gone shopping for their dresses in muggle London, and had found what they were looking for fairly quickly. And then, Ginny had insisted on visiting the fancy lingerie stores for the wedding night. Despite it all, everything was turning out perfectly, and you’d never know that they’d thrown everything together in less than a week.
Before they knew it, Jessica was back and they could hear music beginning to play from the surround speakers. “Are you ready?” she asked as the girls nodded. “Alright, you’re up first,” she nodded at Hermione, who squeezed Ginny’s hand before stepping around the barrier.
She made her way to the aisle and looked up at Harry and Ron when she began walking towards them. She beamed at her best friend and her fiance, who looked rather fine themselves. Both were wearing khaki linen trousers and white button down shirts. Ron’s sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms, while Harry’s was covered in a matching linen suit jacket.
When her eyes met Ron’s, he was giving her a look that was both full of love and excitement. It was clear he only had eyes for her while Harry was looking past her now, waiting anxiously for Ginny to make her way around the barrier next.
-----------------
Ginny was shaking out the nervous energy that was billowing in her stomach. She’d been waiting for this moment for as long as she could remember. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty air, allowing the rhythm of the waves to calm her.
“It’s time,” she heard Jessica say, and Ginny brought herself back to reality.
She was about to marry Harry Potter, her childhood crush. The boy who’d saved her life in the Chamber of Secrets, had kissed her in front of the entire Gryffindor student body, and had miraculously survived and defeated Voldemort. There were so many obstacles they’d had to overcome and get to this day, and all the odds were always against them, but now they were about to enter their own happily ever after.
Ginny turned around the corner and was now at the end of the aisle. Before she started walking she looked up at the scene in front of her. Her eyes found Harry’s and that was all she needed to propel her forward. He was staring at her with that same dumbfounded look he’d had after he kissed her for the first time. She felt her face break into a wide smile both at the memory and at the man who was waiting for her.
It felt like the aisle kept getting longer because it took forever to reach him, but finally she made it. Hermione reached out to take her bouquet, and then Ginny turned to face Harry. “Potter,” she said with a playful smirk.
“Weasley,” he grinned back at her with those bright green eyes she loved so much.
The officiant began the ceremony, going through the standard monologue. Ron had pretended he couldn’t find the rings when it was time to exchange them, and then it was time for the vows. The officiant had nodded to Ginny to go first.
“Harry,” she started. She’d rehearsed the words a million times, yet they’d still gotten caught in her throat. “If you’d told my ten year old self that this day would come, I would have been equal parts mortified and impatient for the day to come. I’ve liked you more than you maybe knew for the longest time, and honestly I’m really glad I was able to get over the ‘couldn’t speak to you’ thing. I know the past is messy, but looking back, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love your stupidly noble self, and I promise I’ll be there at your side through everything life throws at us from here on out. I’m so glad you and my brother became best friends on the train first year so I could get to know you better. So, that being said, I promise to always make you laugh, to remind you not to take life too seriously, and I’ll always be there for you through everything. I love you, Harry.”
The officiant then looked at Harry, who cleared his throat. “Thanks for never giving up on me, Gin,” he started as a chuckle could be heard from Ron and Hermione. “I love you more than you know, even if I was slower on the uptake. No one can quite make me laugh like you do, and I promise to always equally match your wit as best I can. I’ll make sure I consult you before doing anything too noble, and I can’t wait to see what the rest of this life has planned for us. I love you, too.”
The next thing she knew, the officiant was saying, “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!”
Neither waited another second as Harry took her face in his hands and kissed her. It was the perfect kiss, and everything Ginny had ever hoped for. They were officially married, on a beach in the Bahamas, and nothing could take away that blissful feeling. Not even the wrath of the Weasley family that would no doubt be waiting back in England when they got back from their holiday.
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GASP I GET TO SEND A PROMPT TO MY FAV FIC WRITER?? Score! Okay okay, my brain is functioning low capacity rn so i can't come up with anything very good to request, but hows about this: Reader gets a fancy new 60s dress and shows off to Otto... 😳
AYEEEE, ITS DONE ANON! ❤️ also, fuck mobile Tumblr, its dumb 🙄
It was silent in the house as you looked at yourself in the mirror, grinning. Yes, this would definitely work. They would be arriving any minute now...
The front door opened, revealing only Otto as he strode in quickly, smiling to himself as the cats flocked around his feet. You could hear him gently speak to them in Swedish, bending down to pet a couple before pulling him coat and boots off.
“Y/N?” He called, making you smile to yourself, feeling butterflies in your stomach at your dastardly plan. You waited, pretending you were busy in your room, hearing his heavy foot falls on the carpet.
“Yes? Im in my room!” You called out, practically shaking with excitement.
Otto turned and saw you, tilting his head with a smirk as he looked at you, cleaning.
“Hardly the attire for cleaning, älskling.” He said with a chuckle, crossing his arms playfully.
It was a beautiful dress, flowing against your thighs, dark green and black lace at the bodice, hugging your body in the right places. He tried to look away as he felt his face heat, wondering if you would be offended at his ogling.
“Oh you know, wanted to look nice! Come, sit down, I want to show you something that you’ll like.” You said with a smile, looking over your shoulder at him as you patted the bed. He did as asked and sat, watching as you rounded him, standing closer then he expected you to, your confined chest practically in his face. Eyes darted away, cheeks blazing as he heard you laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders softly.
“Ill never get enough of the way you blush at the simplest things.” You whispered, hands lowering to push against his chest, forcing him to lay down. He couldn’t help the strangled noise that escaped his throat as you sat directly over his hard member, eyes wide as you lifted your beautiful dress, revealing that you were wearing nothing else under.
Never had he ever been turned on in such a short amount of time, arm lifting to hide his eyes as he bit his lip, trying to calm down. Your lithe fingers didnt help, already at work on his shirt and pants, giggling over him like a succubus.
“Oh, don’t like my surprise? Its okay Otto, don’t wor-“ you tried, yelping as he flipped you over, your back against the bed as he made quick work of his pants and shirt, leaning back to shut the door with a bang.
You moaned as he rubbed your clit, watching him lean his tall form over you, watching your every movement.
“Kärlek, so so ready for me already. How long were you waiting for me like this?” Otto moaned, leaning down to kiss your neck. He was right, he knew it, you had been wet all day thinking of his return, all too happy to see that he had arrived alone. He was fingering you now, getting you ready for his massive length.
The beautiful bastard, he only chuckled at your visible struggle to form words, only withdrawing his hand after you started to beg him to fuck you.
“Fuck me Otto, I need you, fuck me now or Ill do it myself all alone.” You cheekily replied, loving the way he held your thighs harder as he wrapped them around his hips, your words sending a shiver up his spine. He lifted your dress and held it as he entered you, watching you closely.
He loved the way your teeth bit your lip, the way your hands rose to hold onto his forearms, the way your eyes squeezed shut. He loved the way your green dress stuck to your chest, watching your breasts move under it with his movements. The gasp you let out only fueled him further, holding your thighs as he started a faster rhythm, fucking you harder.
“God, you fuck me so good Otto, I love how rough you can be for me, ughhhh.” You moaned, smiling as it was your turn to make him blush, one of his hands leaving your skin before briefly slapping your thigh softly, stormy eyes pinning you down.
“Such a naughty mouth kärlek.” He moaned out in response, bringing a hand between the both of you to rub your clit, smirking.
“Keep going, little Y/N, I want to hear it.”
“I love to way you fuck me! Hmm, harder Otto, fuck me like you mean it!” You held onto him until the very end, moaning louder as he went faster, bringing you over the edge, your heart thudding loudly as he moaned, pulling out quickly grabbing his shirt, finishing onto it.
He lay beside you, pulling the blanket over the both of you, catching his breath.
“So, do you like the dress?”
Otto laughed, a pure and unadulterated sound, leaning towards you to kiss you softly.
#otto x reader#the swedes#ikea mafia#the swedes x reader#tua swedes#tua otto#umbrella academy swedes#JossamBird Fic#smut
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Perfect Match
TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 28
↳ prompt: Halloween Party - rated T (2,170 words)
summary: Ziva steps into the party and isn’t completely surprised by all the eyes that turn to her - but that is far from being the only surprise of the night.
A/N: for my darling @softdeckerstars, who mentioned something on chapter 1 and stayed with me until chapter 28 to see it written. Your love and support is unmatched, dear friend. Love you so.
read it on AO3 🎭
Ziva stepped out of the car, facing the chilly air of the street.
She was nervous. This wasn’t something she usually did, dressing up like that.
She should’ve brought the jacket she left hanging at the back of her door. Her bare shoulders were shivering, but now there was no going back. Maybe if she had calculated how much skin that outfit was going to show, she wouldn’t even have tried it. Even with the metal-like plaques now covering her forearms, there was still a lot to cover—and the tightness of the bodice didn’t really leave things to the imagination.
She wasn’t feeling bad as she had looked in the mirror earlier that night, though.
No, she felt… Different. It wasn’t common for them to have time to dress this fancy, and even more than that, go to a party. It was true it was still in the local bar they used to go to every Friday or so, but… With makeup and styled hair, Ziva hadn’t felt that different in a long time.
Swallowing down her self-consciousness, Ziva took a step towards the bar, opening the rusty door.
A dozen conversations started at the same time, the sound amplified as she stepped inside. Quickly surveying the bar entrance, Ziva realized it had been decorated with Halloween colors - dull orange and light purple lights hanging from the ceiling - as well as a few spiderwebs and scary skulls placed between the drinks and on various tables.
In a second, Ziva also noticed that many eyes had turned to her. Some belonged to people she knew, perhaps ones she could even call friends - after a couple of drinks, it was difficult not to laugh with the regulars - but most were from men seeking something. Company for the night.
Ziva tilted her chin up, challenging them. With a side smirk, she thanked the bartender, Gina, and the young woman gave her an appreciative nod. It didn’t take long for Ziva to spot her friends, though, and a relieved smile cracked on her lips as soon as she saw Abby across the room, also smiling broadly at her.
“Wow, Ziva, you look great!” Abby took both her hands inside hers, a face so excited Ziva wondered if she had had any drinks already or if this was her natural state. She decided on the latter.
“Thank you, Abby. And you look… Dark.” Ziva eyed her costume and quickly added, “In a good way.”
With dark eyeshadow and sporting a long red velvet cape over a black dress, Abby looked like her normal self—except for the little fangs that now protruded from inside her mouth.
“Thank you,” she replied, grinning. “It’s my version of Dracula. Last year, I didn’t win because no one knew who was Mina Harker, so I decided on something simpler this time. Well, simpler in my eyes. It’s just absurd no one knows her. But knows him! She’s part of the story too and—”
“Wonder Woman.”
Tony’s voice made Ziva’s heart do that little flip she was familiar with, and as their gazes met, his was so intense she felt unable to breathe properly.
It was as if the whole world was reduced to that moment, with Tony’s eyes doing an elevator motion and then back up to her face after a slow blink. Ziva looked down to her own outfit, taking in the knee-high boots and metallic dress. Meeting his gaze again, she felt that even the cold plaque circling her forehead had turned warmer somehow—when Tony parted his mouth to lick the curve of his bottom lip.
“Yes,” Ziva replied, feeling better than she did the whole evening.
Tony’s brow shot up, appearing above the glasses he was wearing. Ziva bit the inside of her cheek to keep from making any comment about it (or inflating his ego)—but good heavens, did he look good sporting that. Wondering if Tony would ever wear glasses in real life - and not just a part of a costume - Ziva let her gaze wander down his outfit as well, taking in his combed hair to the side and open shirt.
“You weren’t lying,” he said, breaking eye contact for a second with a sheepish smile.
“Why would I do that?”
Ziva tilted her head and visibly saw Tony inhaling. She knew what that gesture did to him, and offered him a secretive smile she knew he would understand. There was something so compelling in making him lose control like that, and how easy it was. All she needed to do was to linger her gaze for some seconds and he would start fidgeting, pressing his lips together or talking without any filter at all.
But there was something different about tonight. She noticed he couldn’t stop staring. Not even when McGee arrived with the first round of drinks - dressed in some sort of character Ziva didn’t recognize, with elf ears and a strange-looking vest - and not even when a couple of his local friends approached him.
Tony continued to look at her over the bottle brim and stealing glances when neither of them was talking. The night stretched into a few rounds of drinks, and Ziva soon started to feel the happy dose of alcohol inside her system. Smiling more than usual, she realized they had drifted closer to one another, and Tony’s shoulder was now pressed against hers.
“You do know this is just a party, right?” Tony looked at her from the corner of his vision. “Not a job interview for modelling or…” he trailed off, and for what felt like the tenth time that night, let his eyes trail to where the bodice hugged her waist, tight and fitting.
“I heard there is a competition, yes?” Ziva lifted one of her eyebrows.
“Right,” Tony chuckled, taking another sip of his beer. “Ziva David, parading in front of everyone, dressed as a sexy Amazon Warrior.”
“Isn’t that one of your fantasies, Tony?”
His eyes sparkled and Ziva couldn’t help but cast a confident smile when the beer he was drinking stopped midair, a half-hearted huff sent in her direction.
“Funny,” Tony said, pointing her a finger. ”You… You can’t say that. You have no right to—”
“You guys are matching!”
Abby gestured at them with a wide smile, clasping her hands together. Her excitement caught the attention of nearby tables, and now a few curious customers stretched their necks to see what she meant.
Abby was right. Tony had the decency to look down his own torso, where a half-open white shirt displayed the Superman logo which suited him well. A loose tie was draped around his neck, and with his hair combed to the side, Tony did look straight out from a comic book.
From the way he still stared at her, Ziva guessed she did too, his attraction now way less disguised from the effects of the alcohol. She met Tony’s gaze to find it curious rather than with the playfulness she expected, and Ziva was caught off guard for a moment before she could slip back into her façade.
“Really?” Ziva cast Abby a smirk. “I did not notice it.”
A click sounded a second later, and Ziva flashed a smile at how excited Abby looked when she pulled McGee to see it too. Halting for a second and furrowing his brows, McGee’s gaze darted between the two of them but finally decided not to comment on the matter. After some loud, excited babbling coming from an already tipsy Abby, she left them alone as well, but not before sending a not-so-discreet wink Ziva’s way.
“Hm.” Tony turned to her, putting his hands inside his trouser pockets. “Do you think they know?”
Ziva glanced to where Abby and McGee now stood, not looking at them but still close. They appeared to have started some sort of debate on another table about someone’s costume, but Ziva couldn’t catch much more than that.
“No,” she replied. “They do not.”
“I thought that was the plan.”
“Hm.” Ziva turned to Tony, smirking up at him. “Seeing you squirm is way better.”
Tony’s tongue pushed the inside of his cheek, as he tried to suppress a smile but failed.
“And you couldn’t settle on something looking less…” he trailed off, tipping his chin to her costume.
Ziva chuckled. “Powerful?”
His eyes were pure hunger when they returned back to her face. Ziva’s heart started beating faster.
“I was going to say ‘less Ziva’.”
Tony’s eyes sparkled and Ziva smiled, appreciating how good he was at flirting.
“Hm.” Ziva pursed her lips, leaning forward on the table. “I like it. I can even conceal my weapons.”
Tony’s eyes instantly flickered to her chest, the low cut of her dress drawing the desired effect. When his gaze met hers again, Ziva parted her lips. Everything was just too intense. And he looked way too handsome with his hair and glasses like that.
“How many are there with you?” Tony stepped into her space.
Ziva tilted her chin up towards him. “Do you really want to know?”
“A man needs to be prepared,” Tony chuckled. “But you do look... amazing.”
“Thank you,” Ziva opened an honest smile, then skimmed his face as she said, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
Tony lifted a hand to brush a curl off her shoulder, and the light touch of his fingers left a burning trace on her skin.
“We clean up nice, don’t we?”
He skimmed her face in wonder and Ziva smiled, looking at him from under her eyelashes. Not even a moment after, Tony chuckled, shaking his head as she trailed his gaze with her own.
“You know what?” He chuckled weakly, then hummed with the back of his throat before meeting her eyes again.
“Screw you,” Tony said, though his eyes were visibly sparkling.
Ziva huffed out a laugh, taken aback. “Why?”
“For making me want to tear it off.”
Tony’s lips pressed together as he nodded towards her metal dress and his hand hit the table a couple of times in a fist, then opened with the palm facing down. Licking his lips, he closed his eyes and glanced the other way, and Ziva couldn’t help but laugh at how helpless he looked.
“Hm.” She clicked her tongue and cracked a smile. “And I have not even ‘paraded’ yet.”
Tony continued to shake his head, the look he cast a clear mix of helplessness and pure lust.
“Dangerous woman.”
“Wasn’t it Wonder?”
A smile cracked on his lips, and Ziva followed it as Tony turned to face McGee and Abby still in a heated conversation at the table across the room.
“They’ll know,” he said after a moment, with a duck of his chin.
Ziva chuckled amused, then lifted an eyebrow.
“How?” she asked, then motioned to their costumes, adding, “I do not think we can be more obvious than this.”
Going with matching costumes had originally been Ziva’s idea, but Tony had also helped pick the ones that felt appropriate. They had previously discussed how to break the news to the team, but it wasn’t something that easy to tell everyone that they were actually together now, however natural it may seem. With a Halloween party approaching, Ziva had joked they should leave them a clue, even if as minimal as matching costumes.
“When I kiss you,” Tony replied, then chuckled as Ziva sent him a questioning look. “Just saying. They’ll know.”
“I thought we had agreed—”
Tony’s hands cupped her face and pulled Ziva close in an instant, words cutting short. As soon as his lips met hers, his tongue demanded access into her mouth, and Ziva let him with little to no restraint.
Tony’s mouth was almost aggressive, the kiss an explosion of all that had been building up all night. Ziva tuned her senses to return its energy, and as she let her fingers trail to the back of his head, Tony let out an appreciative groan from low on his throat.
She felt his hands fisting her hair, and Ziva circled his neck to pull him closer. With all the weight of Tony’s body now flushed against hers, she suddenly felt lightheaded, and as his hands left her hair to trail the sides of her hips, Ziva did feel like she was getting out of breath.
Breaking the kiss, she heard him whine before sharing her breath—as if he was also in need of some oxygen. Tony let his forehead pressed to hers, and squeezed Ziva’s waist to make a point.
“Know that this is your fault,” he said, sounding indeed a bit breathless.
She tightened her grip around his neck, chuckling against his lips.
“We both know it is not,” Ziva replied.
“It is, though.”
And if he heard another click coming from Abby’s camera, Tony made no comment on it before claiming Ziva’s lips again with his own.
As he smiled through the kiss, though, she had a feeling he was alright with them figuring it all out just like that.
#tiva#tiva fanfiction#tivatober2020#once upon a halloween#my fics#this is so silly!!!#I do love their costumes though <33 I think they match
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Ok but like what Daniel would be like for the girls prom or first school dance or something would be so cute
I’m working on a prom one right now buttttttt speaking of school dances…there’s no doubt that there’s at least one father-daughter dance thrown by the elementary school and that was when Clementine was nine...
It was a whole deal; the teacher had printed little invitations and tickets and were going to set up the gym to be like a little formal dance for the girls and their fathers. For nine-year-old Clementine, this was the best idea ever and the second she got in the car after school, she was shoving the invitation into her mother’s hands with a grin.
“Can I go, Mommy?” Clementine pleaded as she buckled up her seatbelt.
“I don’t think I’m the one you’re supposed to ask.” Florence chuckled, making sure all three girls were buckled and ready to go.
“When’s Daddy home from work?”
“Around 5:30 but we can go surprise him if you’d like.” Florence suggested.
“Yes!” the girls grinned.
So they made a stop on the way home to the studio and headed inside. The secretary knew the family well since they had been around a lot and she greeted the girls with a smile. Clementine walked right up to the desk, “I need to see Daddy. It’s important.”
“Important, is it? I’ll buzz you in and you can go find him right away.” The secretary chuckled and unlocked the inside door for them.
Clementine thanked her loudly and took off running down the hallway despite her mother’s call for her to slow down as she carried the toddler in one arm and held Penelope’s hand with her other. Daniel was in one of the studios at the end of the hall and Clementine peered through the glass door before letting herself in. Daniel looked up from the soundboard and smiled at the sight of his daughter.
“Hey, you.” he welcomed her eager hug as the rest of their family came in and he leaned back in his chair so Florence could dip down to kiss him. “What’s the special occasion?”
“I have something I need to ask you.” Clementine said, her hands grabbing tightly onto his arm.
“Okay?” Daniel glanced up at Florence hesitantly before looking back to their eldest.
“My school is having a dance…a very fancy dance…and I wanted to ask you if you would please go with me?”
“A very fancy dance?” Daniel questioned.
Clementine thrust the invitation at him and he skimmed it over, his smile only growing as he read the contents and he bent down to press a kiss to her head.
“Of course I’ll go with you, angel.”
It was only a week away on the following Friday night and Daniel took that afternoon off work so he could make sure he was home in time and all ready for the dance. He was almost more excited than Clementine was, and she was the one with a new dress. When Florence brought the two oldest girls home from school that afternoon, Daniel was already cleaning himself up in the ensuite bathroom, pushing his hair back and nearly emptying a can of hairspray on it, already in his dress pants and white button up that was still untucked and unbuttoned.
Florence whistled from her spot in the doorway, making him glance over at her a shoot her a small smirk before turning back to his hair, “Good thing there are no moms at the dance tonight or else you’ll be fighting them off.”
“Very funny.” Daniel rolled his eyes teasingly as she walked up beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder and they looked at each other through the mirror.
“Wedding suit?”
“Yeah.” Daniel pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Florence only smiled and gave his shoulder a little squeeze, “I gotta go help your date get ready. Button up your shirt before I tell you to just take it off.”
“Keep it G-Rated, baby, my gosh.” Daniel tisked playfully after her.
Clementine had a brand-new dress to wear to the dance, the bodice full of silver sparkles and the knee length skirt a metallic silver satin with a cute little bow around the waist; she even had a pair of silver kitten heels to wear underneath. Florence curled her hair in her bathroom mirror, the other two girls sitting with them watching in awe as their older sister’s blonde waves fell in soft little ringlets down her back. The look was finished off with a bit of pink lip gloss and Clementine grinned at herself in the mirror.
“Like it?” Florence asked, ruffling a hand through her daughter’s hair before spraying a bit of hairspray to keep it in place.
“I love it! Thank you, Mommy!” Clementine shrieked, throwing her arms around her mother’s waist before they were heading back into the living room. The girls sat on the couch as Florence put a few things in a little purse for Clementine, Lucy busying herself with tugging lightly at her sister’s curls.
Daniel finally came back down the hallway, dressed and ready to go in his full suit down to the shiny black dress shoes and the silver cufflinks that he was adjusting as he walked in. Clementine gasped and jumped off the couch.
“Daddy, you look so handsome.” she grinned and rushed up to him eagerly.
“Thank you, sweetheart.” Daniel chuckled, taking a second to admire her, “You look absolutely gorgeous. I think there’s one thing missing though.”
Clementine’s face fell, “What?”
Daniel held out his hand and she took it, letting him lead her to the kitchen and he opened the fridge and pulled out a plastic box. Inside was a small white rose corsage and matching boutonniere and he leaned down in front of her to show her, watching how his daughter’s eyes went wide and absolutely sparkled with excitement.
“Gotta treat my date like the grown-up lady she is, right?” Daniel took her right hand and slipped the corsage on her wrist. “That okay?”
Clementine nodded and admired the flower before throwing her arms around his neck with a squeal before pressing a sticky kiss to his cheek. The other girls came over to see what all the fuss was about, both of them gaping jealously at their sister’s corsage as Florence helped pin Daniel’s boutonniere to the lapel of his jacket and then wiped the little lip gloss print off his cheek. He thanked her with a sweet kiss.
“Hey!” Clementine frowned up at them. “You’re my date tonight!”
“Sorry. You’re right. How awful of me.” Daniel said. “I’ll take it back.”
He pressed another kiss to his wife’s lips and pulled back dramatically before looking down to his daughter, “Okay?”
Clementine narrowed her eyes at them, “Fine.”
The two of them got their pictures taken in the living room and then were in the elevator down to the car to head towards the school. Daniel, of course, opened the car door for her and she thanked him sweetly as she climbed into her car seat and buckled her seatbelt up herself. When they got to the elementary school, there were already other father and daughter duos lining up and heading inside with their tickets and Clementine held onto Daniel’s hand as they made their way into the gym. Most of the dads wore nice collared golf shirts and ironed khakis, a few in slacks and button-ups, but Daniel was probably the only one in a full suit. He was a bit shy about it at first but as soon as they walked into the gym that was decked out like a little fairy-tale set and Clementine pulled him up to her principal who was greeting people at the door and said a proud, “This is my Daddy!”, Daniel could have freaking melted.
Dinner was served at the dance and they ate at a table of 8 with three other pairs of dads and daughters and Daniel knew two of the dads since their girls were friends with Clementine but all of them at the table seemed to be eyeing him almost jealously as the young father of not even twenty-eight yet was clearly outshining them in his pristine suit, perfect hair, and wrinkle-less face. Daniel was too hung up on his daughter to even care about what anyone else thought about him, how she sat there looking just like her mother and Daniel could only smile with pride at her as she talked excitedly to the table about whatever she so pleased.
And when the dancing started, Clementine and Daniel were inseparable, and he let her do lots of twirls under his arm so her sparkly dress would spin around and catch the light off the sequins sewn into the material. When the slow song came on, they held hands and swayed slowly around the gym floor, Daniel singing along softly to the song as Clementine beamed up at him. There was no one he loved more in the world and that was obvious, their bond strong and unique from the very start.
And when she fell asleep on the drive home, she looked just as little as when he held her in the hospital the day she was born, those long lashes resting on her cheeks and lips pouted sweetly. Daniel couldn’t help but stare at her through the rear-view mirror at each red light, how the city lights rippled across her face as they drove, a peaceful little girl he didn’t want to see grow up.
He carried her inside when they got home and, even though she was getting big and was quite heavy at nine-years-old, he still made it all the way to the fifty-sixth floor and into the apartment with her arms around his neck and her face squished against his shoulder. Daniel laid her down on her bed and carefully got her changed into her pyjamas while trying not to wake her up before tucking her under the blankets and pressed a kiss to her head, twirling one of her curls around his finger as he admired her a moment longer.
Florence was still awake in their room when he closed up the rest of the apartment and headed for bed himself. She smiled warmly at him as he closed the bedroom door behind him and loosened his tie with a heavy sigh.
“How was it?”
“So much fun.” Daniel admitted through a grin and leaned over the side of the bed to press a lingering kiss to her lips. “I love her so much.”
“I know.” Florence smiled, running her thumb over his cheek.
“She looks so much like you, you know.”
“So I’ve been told.” Florence chuckled and he kissed her again. She pushed a hand through his hair, eyes locked on his, “You gonna come to bed now?”
“Still wanna get me out of this suit?” Daniel bit lightly at his bottom lip, eyes dropping to her mouth before offering her a little smirk.
“Already did once on that honeymoon of ours, didn’t I?” Florence teased, shuffling herself a little as he climbed over top of her and kissed her strongly. She pushed his jacket off and to the floor between long kisses and took his face in her hands.
“God, I wanna make so many more babies with you.” Daniel groaned, grabbing her legs and tugged her farther down on the bed so she was laying down before leaning back in for another hungry kiss.
“Three’s our limit, remember?” Florence laughed.
“I know, I know.” Daniel buried his face in her neck to suck softly over her skin before moving back to look at her, “I love you.”
Florence grabbed the front of his button-up to keep him close, their noses brushing in their close proximity, taunting him with a cheeky, “Prove it.”
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Chasing A Dream
Links: FF.net & AO3.
Pairing: Sakura/Kakashi.
Summary: Her mother always told her to follow her dreams. In this case, her dream happened to have silver hair, mismatched eyes, and a smile that took her breath away. And she was determined to follow him all the way, even if he decided to break her heart. KakaSaku AU.
Status: Complete.
Enjoy. ^_^
.:.
Sorry I have to leave so abruptly, Daddy. I’ll come back as soon as I can, okay? I know you’re disappointed in me. I wasn’t trying to shame you. I love you. I love you both. I’ll see you soon. Tell mama I’m fine. I always know my way home.
- Love, Sakura.
.
Sakura Haruno walked for half a mile to get to the service area where she knew that drivers congregated before leaving Wajima. She did her best to dress like a foreigner and not show her Roma origins—nomads (Sanka) were considered as un-Japanese as any foreigner (Gaijin). She wouldn’t win the sympathetic ride with a stranger wearing her usual bodice and scarf.
She decided on a simple shirt and her nice jeans; they fit comfortably and hugged her well. It was cold out, even in the middle of the day, so she brought a heavy coat; one that was still easy to wear with her travelling backpack.
Her goal was to hitchhike her way to Tokyo. Depending on traffic and how long it would take to get a ride, the trip would take about seven hours. It would be expensive if done with public transportation; she had to save what little money she had for those things once she actually got to her destination.
To him.
And she was unfamiliar with the more typical ways of travelling through Japan. This was her last option; she had put this off long enough. For the first time since the last time she’d seen him, she wasn’t running from her problems; rather, meeting them head on. Before her father got it into his head to ruin things with that famous temper of his. Images of silver hair and mesmerising, mismatched eyes, invaded her thoughts unbidden and she sighed deeply before looking around contemplatively.
Service areas like this all over Japan made hitchhiking that much easier. Cars, trucks, motorcycles—there was a plethora of drivers to choose from. Sakura had hitched before—her first time had been when a second cousin went into labour. The pinkette was twelve years old at the time, and her parents were nowhere to be seen, so she’d had to make her way to the hospital on her own. It was easy, safe, and fun, really.
If you were careful.
A girl on her own was an easy target for perverts and predators, but Sakura always made sure to go with families or women; she was a good judge of character, so that elderly man had been a smart choice, regardless. But she wasn’t a weakling; she knew how to handle herself. Anyone who tried something with her would get a twisted arm and a swift kick to the shins or balls. Whichever one tickled her fancy.
This place was perfect; away from the expressway and most people here were headed in the same direction.
A few minutes into her perusal, a teenage girl waved at her and Sakura waved back. She looked to be with her parents. They had a Suzuki and ample room. She approached them with her sign; it read ‘Osaka’.
Sakura put on her best friendly smile and fake accent. “Konnichiwa.”
“You going to Osaka?”
The pinkette nodded silently, remembering that while it was uncommon for Japanese people to hitchhike there were no laws against it; it was just best to appear to need help, like a foreigner rather than a local.
“You speak Japanese?”
Maybe it was her hair, but she was often treated like a foreigner no matter what she said or did; she didn’t understand it. But she always just went with it. The key was to look as harmless and friendly as possible.
“Hai.”
The girl conferred with her parents and then came running back over to Sakura and threw her arms around her. “You look like you are a good person. We can take you as far as Toyama, okay?”
“Hai.”
“Okay!”
The girl talked Sakura’s ear off the whole time, going on about her family vacation and how she loved Winter so much.
So bloody much.
But Sakura kept her smile on and upon disembarking at a service area near the Toyama train station, felt compelled to show her appreciation. She bowed deeply. “Doumo. Arigato.”
Alone again, she sighed nervously.
One ride down.
Shifting the weight of her backpack out of nervous habit, she ambled her way through the crowd of vehicles, glancing at the faces of the drivers and any passengers they might have. She was looking for the concerned face, the curious face; the honest face.
Found three.
It was a couple and their six-year-old boy, wearing matching outfits, looking like they were heading for the Alps. They accepted her quickly, saying how they didn’t want to leave her here on her own, and looking so vulnerable.
“There are some sickos these days,” the mother muttered, while the father nodded in agreement.
They seemed sane to Sakura.
“We’re going to Myoko,” the little boy said excitedly, the moment the pinkette climbed into their Subaru.
Sakura humoured him, listening to him talk about all the skiing he was going to do, and that he had to go to some boring wedding instead of the night-time Onsen. He was really cute, and she found herself feeling wistful and nervous, thinking about what awaited her at her destination. So much so that she gave in when he pestered her about where she was going. She told him almost everything...
“Sayōnara, Sakura-chan! And good luck!”
Left again at a service area, Sakura quickly got to work scoping out the people and their vehicles again. The next car she got belonged to another group of friends, middle-aged women on their way to some kind of religious retreat. She listened to their excited chatter in polite silence but was glad to be on the move again.
Next ride.
It was like riding a bike now; her instinct didn’t fail her as her eyes zeroed in on five people who looked around her age, almost twenty. They turned out to be college students on holiday and could take her all the way to Tokyo—their ultimate destination was Yokohama, where apparently, they all had family.
They were so boisterous and so energetic that it was contagious. Sakura found herself laughing for the first time in months. It made her temporarily forget her imminent problems. They were so warm, she found herself drawn to them. A loud blond guy in particular, seemed to just radiate kindness, and the banter between him and the raven-haired guy she assumed was his best friend, was the highlight of the trip.
When they made it to her drop off point, she was disappointed.
The blonde girl took her elbow and stopped her from leaving dejectedly. “You need money for the bullet train? They’re faster and will be safer this time of night.”
Sakura shook her head as they suggested giving her the money. “I couldn’t–”
“You can.”
“We insist. Go get your man!”
A wad of cash was shoved in her hands and bouts of cheers from the group followed her as she walked away, and Sakura blushed heavily. That little boy with the concerned parents had opened a floodgate and she couldn’t keep her damn mouth shut! This was highly unusual behaviour. Did everyone around here give money to strangers?
That had been a particularly rowdy group of college students, she decided naively. Definitely out of the norm.
Best to just accept the money and get on the train.
Sakura waved back at them and made her way in the direction they’d indicated. Tokyo was a very odd place. There was a bus station nearby, and the train station was lit up and dazzled her. She strained her neck looking around; its services also included commercial centres for shopping, dining, and entertainment. Everything was so big and lively! She spent a few minutes just gaping like a tourist before remembering why she was here.
Sakura steeled herself and took the directions the students had given her to the correct station and line.
She bought her ticket from the vending machine and passed through the Fare Gate, rushing to get onto the locomotive. She just wanted to get this part over with. The Tokaido line would take her directly to her destination.
Sakura pulled out a piece of paper as she took her backpack off and sat down next to it in her seat. All she had was an address, and vague directions; she’d gotten it from her father’s own journals. She read it silently, committing it to memory. This was it. This was what she’d been dreading and anticipating. When she would finally see him again.
Sighing, she settled into the seat and stared out the window, her eyes taking in the beautiful landscape as the Shinkansen Bullet Train started moving. It was this kind of view that she loved most about travel. Having been a part of her family performance group her whole life, she was no stranger to moving around. Japan was truly the most hospitable and exciting country; even when they did stick to the Ura-Nihon (the backside of Japan).
And it was that lifestyle that had gotten her into her current predicament.
She remembered it like it was yesterday.
.:.
Gypsies, tramps, and thieves: dealings with those unwanted was not something most businessmen would risk. That was why just talking to Kizashi Haruno was considered on par with black market dealings. Moving things across prefecture borders via Roma who performed shows for a living supposedly came with all the mystique of illegal dealings but with none of the danger of dealing with the Yakuza.
It was the preferred choice for shady men who were too cowardly to deal with the real crime syndicate.
And Sakura was both repulsed and intrigued by her father’s dealings. Every client had their own story to tell, though, and she was a sponge for information. Every negotiation and patented deal were slightly different to the last, but they were all conducted the same; in brisk, formal manners with no-nonsense chit-chat and a back-and-forth debate that seemed redundant.
Eager to listen in, she always took the initiative to pour the tea for her father and his clients when they met in his tent. They paid her no mind as they continued to talk business—after all, what would a little girl know about the price of illegal dried meat or black-market liqueurs? She learned a lot from listening in but could only linger for so long.
Several months after her eighteenth birthday, a new business associate of her father’s caught her eye; and this man did seem to be bothered by her presence during their talks. He was so no-nonsense that Sakura imagined he’d have her standing to attention and saluting if he’d wanted to, but he also greeted her father with a smile that seemed genuine (a twinkle in his eyes) and a handshake that didn’t look designed as some macho display of dominance.
It took her breath away.
He was… different from the others. And his visits lasted longer; her father seemed to like him more and more every time they sat to talk business. And when Sakura poured the man’s tea he said, “thank-you” when none of the others would even look at her, probably thinking her some simple serving girl. When she froze in shock for a few seconds, he raised an eyebrow at her and waited for her to move away before taking a sip from his drink. When she didn’t leave the room immediately, his gaze would flicker to her curiously.
She often felt his mismatched eyes on her as she left the room. He didn’t dare to stare at her in any disrespectful way with her father in the room—he definitely wasn’t as ignorant or creepy as her father’s other clients. She had no idea why he was there because, instead of paying attention to what he was saying, she would be focused on his voice. And he would stop talking once he realised, she was listening in.
His curious looks turned into intense stares and she would give him a shy smile before exiting the tent. It was an interesting back and forth—kind of like flirting. Sakura had never flirted before, so she wasn’t sure if she was doing it right. Her father had been in talks for a few weeks in order to marry her to the son of a friend (a well-placed man in their Roma clan), so she was expected to avoid boys, sex, and the like. But Kakashi Hatake was responding to her awkward flirting, catching her eye when her father was distracted, giving her a dark, penetrating look when she was doing chores and he was passing by with Kizashi leading the way out (or in) to their encampment.
He wanted her.
And she had to admit, it felt good to be on the receiving end of his obvious need, though she considered him a gentleman, since to the casual observer, he seemed to treat her well enough; his smiles were innocent and his choice of honorifics when addressing her were appropriate for their non-relationship status. He was just a business acquaintance of her father’s and nothing more.
At least, that was what she thought. She was soon to be betrothed, after all.
But she couldn’t help imagining her life however, if Kakashi made a claim for her and took her away to live with him. She fantasised that he would save her from her boring life; she loved her family, but Sakura craved more. She had no idea what his life was like, but she wanted it. The sexual tension between them would not go away; a sense of both trepidation and anticipation filled her being. Sakura knew it would be frowned upon, that her father would rage, but she wanted him too.
Didn’t men usually make the first move in these situations? She’d heard they did.
Maybe he was just biding his time?
On what was apparently his last dealing with her father, Kakashi found himself in a pickle; his ride home had abandoned him, and her father insisted on letting him hitch with them, as they were headed in the same direction, come morning. His mind was made up and that was the end of things. Kakashi Hatake gave a grateful smile, his eyes twinkling when they met green and Sakura blushed under his gaze, her own smile eliciting another one of his dark, penetrating stares. She could feel a heat building up inside her as he licked his lips and exhaled deeply.
“Sakura?”
Her mother’s voice snapped her out of her reverie and Sakura dutifully left to help her, with whatever she needed. It was almost dinner time.
Supper was a nightmare. Sakura rubbed her thighs together, trying to hide her obvious interest the entire time. Luckily, only Kakashi noticed.
That night, long after her parents had gone to bed, Sakura Haruno lost her virginity.
He’d come to her tent, knelt down in front of her, parted her legs, and taken his time introducing her to sex. It had lasted for hours. And he spent most of the night inside her before slinking back to his own tent after she’d fallen asleep. When she woke, the only proof he’d been there were the indent from his head on one of her pillows, the foreign soreness between her legs, and the smell of sex that still lingered in the air.
She was profoundly disappointed.
And he’d seemed to have gotten what he wanted, acting normally on the rest of their trip, giving only a minute longing glance in her direction to show her she hadn’t imagined it before leaving their caravan behind.
“He’s such a nice man,” her mother said, watching him go. “And so handsome,” she added, fanning herself. “We should have him over more often.”
Sakura swallowed back a sob and forced herself to pretend everything was all right, so she could go back to her normal, boring life. But three months later, a discovery upended her life, and everything changed.
.:.
“Forty-Six, forty-seven...” Sakura counted off the numbers as she made her way through the hallway. Kakashi Hatake lived in a luxury high-rise building with a view of the waterfront as well as a park. She wondered idly how many of his illicit dealings paid for this place. He had to be no normal smuggler to afford a place like this; it was far out of her reach, even if she were to drain her father of the combined intake from his clients.
She stopped at the correct number and let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
This is it.
Yep. All she had to do was ring that bell and wait.
And wait impatiently.
Is he even home?
She’d heard the bell ring through the apartment from her position but there was no other noise inside.
The passing maid gave her a strange look, adding more to Sakura’s embarrassment; reminding her she wasn’t dressed to match the décor. She sighed, undid the buckles on her backpack and slid down the door to sit to wait for him to turn up. It wasn’t the middle of the night—just barely ten o’clock—so surely, he wasn’t fast asleep yet?
Speaking of sleeping; Sakura drifted off so quickly she didn’t remember falling asleep when a hand was gently shaking her awake. It seemed all her worry had exhausted her more than she’d realised.
“Sakura?”
That familiar voice had her freezing instantaneously, then slowly looking up into the mismatched eyes of her lover. That thought made her blush, but she fought it down. He knew better than to ask if her father was aware, she’d camped out in front of Kakashi’s door; what they had, what they’d shared, no-one else could know.
The energy between them shifted; it had always been electric.
As he stared at Sakura, Kakashi couldn’t help but think that everything was about to change.
He sighed, rubbed his left eye tiredly, and helped the girl up, off the floor. She was exactly as he remembered, except that she wore normal clothes instead of the bodice that had flared at her breasts, giving him an ample view of her goods. He smirked inwardly, remembering rubbing his hands over those very supple goods not three months ago.
Was that why she was here? He was confused. He cleared his throat.
“Do come in.” He unlocked the door and swung it open to let Sakura into his apartment, taking note of her sudden and obvious nerves, not to mention that she had a death grip on her backpack. “Please take your shoes off. The maids here are vicious if they catch even a whiff of the outside on these hardwood floors.”
Sakura nodded and looked around for a shoe rack.
“Here.”
Kakashi led her off to the side to place her things.
“Do you want some tea?” He might as well play the good host, considering her father had always been gracious to him.
“N-no.” Uh... “Yes,” she amended after shivering.
“What kind?”
“Hot.”
He didn’t bother pointing out to her that tea came in hundreds of flavours and was always “hot”. Well, all the tea he’d bother drinking, anyway. He busied himself in the kitchen, instead. “Make yourself at home!”
Sakura carefully placed her shoes on the rack and shrugged off her coat. Her hand went to her stomach and she felt mild panic; this was why she was here, but it was terrifying. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sounds of Kakashi moving about in his kitchen, preparing their tea.
I can do this.
Gingerly, she made her way into the kitchen, too nervous to take in the large and gorgeous apartment he owned. It had never occurred to her that he wasn’t single… but now the question tormented her brain. The idea that she’d slept with someone’s spouse, that she had trekked across the country to see him and was laying her pregnancy problems on someone who was spoken for… she suddenly felt cheap.
Sakura stopped a foot from the kitchen and glanced back at the living room, eyes darting about and looking for clues of a girlfriend or wife. There were none. But she wasn’t going to stop panicking until she knew for sure. Taking a deep breath, she entered the kitchen, laid her coat on one of the kitchen stools, her eyes on the back of Kakashi’s head as he whistled along with the kettle.
When he turned to face her, she felt her insides squirm in nervous anticipation; but the kitchen island bench was high enough to hide her small protruding belly. He smiled that award-winning smile.
“I’ll just be a minute, you can wait in the serving room if you want, then we can talk about what brought you to my humble abode, yeah?”
She wasn’t sure how to interpret that hopeful look on his face, but she nodded, waiting for him to turn back to the tea before slipping out into the other room like he suggested.
Oh gods.
Her nerves had just skyrocketed.
Sakura studied the pictures on the opposite wall to the tatami mat, entwining her fingers as she attempted to simmer her nerves. None of the people in the photos looked like his “other half” so to speak; there were people in business suits and an elderly couple in several that looked like Kakashi’s parents. The one that stood out was a photo of Kakashi and two others—a guy and girl, but the way those two were holding each other, she figured she didn’t have anything to worry about.
I hope.
She spun around quickly as Kakashi entered the serving room, like she’d been caught reading his dirty magazines or something. He wasn’t looking directly at her as he moved to place the tea try on the low table in the centre of the room. He looked up and her breath hitched.
“Oh, you took the coat off? I turned the thermostat up, so you don’t have to keep that heavy jacket on–” He paused. “Uh, Sakura?”
His eyes fell to her stomach and widened. “W-what?”
His eyes roamed over her shirt; with the coat out of the way, he could suddenly and terrifyingly understand why she’d come all this way on her own.
“Hai, Kakashi, it’s yours,” she said, to break the silence.
That made it easier. She was showing already, but it was mostly still just bloating; she’d deliberately worn a tighter shirt and cosy jeans to show it off. After taking off her coat, her baby bump was difficult to miss. To the casual observer, she didn’t look pregnant until she’d removed the coat.
Kakashi continued to gape at her.
“Kakashi?”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, quickly recovering his speaking ability. “It’s just... a shock.”
She nodded. “I know. I’m sorry too. But I didn’t know how else to tell you. Daddy...”
She trailed off and he understood. Kizashi was going to kill him. It didn’t matter that he needed the Hatake business right now, his daughter had been defiled and impregnated. No decent father would just let that go. And Kizashi was as decent a father as Kakashi had ever seen. He couldn’t imagine a scenario where the older man wouldn’t yell at him and call him every name under the sun for this.
He swallowed heavily.
“Where does he think you are right now?”
“Not at home.”
He chuckled humourlessly. “I suppose so. Uh,” he motioned to the tea. “Don’t want to waste my hospitality, right?”
She nodded and sat down; he ran a distracted hand through his odd hair and sighed, moving to pour her tea for her, before allowing her to pour his. They sat in silence, across from each other, avoiding eye contact and just enjoying the rich flavour of the tea he’d chosen. She wanted to ask what flavour it was but was feeling too nervous to start idle chatter. She was as nervous as he was, looking everywhere but at Kakashi as she delicately sipped at her tea. When they were both done and the silence dragged on, Sakura was beginning to worry he was going to send her on her way with little but a “I’m too old to have a kid” or some such nonsense.
She cleared her throat, her eyes lowering to her hands, sitting in her lap and twiddling like a schoolgirl. The fear and dread came rushing back when Kakashi seemingly had nothing to say and she didn’t know how to start the topic of what to do now. Her fidgety hands moved from her lap to her knees, back to her lap, and then finally to the serving table. She splayed her hands out, faced down, frowning at them.
Sakura only had to wait a few more minutes after her fidgeting stopped before the father of her unborn child finally broke the silence, causing her to look up at him, now fixated on his mismatched eyes.
“I don’t regret it,” he said slowly. “I…” He held a hand over his face in an attempt to cover his blush, but the look on her face told him he was busted. Kakashi chuckled, resting the hand on hers, instead. He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”
It was her turn to blush.
“What I’m trying to say is...” He sighed. “I... don’t regret it.” He chuckled at his own expense again. “I’m not really helping, am I?”
She smiled. Sakura appreciated what he was clearly trying to say. She had him tongue tied, apparently. It was a good feeling, surprisingly. It meant she wasn’t just a notch on his belt—she wasn’t forgettable and unwanted. She cleared her throat again.
“Where do we go from here?” She asked, her voice trembling. She was scared of the answer, but also… not. It was strange.
Kakashi ran a hand through his hair—he did that when he was both nervous and unsettled, she’d noticed. Or at least, she gathered so. He wasn’t the most open person, that much was obvious.
“I–”
Whatever Kakashi was going to suggest was drowned out by a loud, abrupt serious of knocks on his front door. Whoever it was wasn’t bothering with the doorbell and sound irate and impatient.
Sakura paled immediately. Her father might’ve put two and two together, somehow… she’d told her friends where she was going. But the caravan answered to her father, so if he really wanted to squeeze information out of them...
Oh my god.
“Hatake!”
Yep, that was Kizashi Haruno’s angry voice.
Kakashi and Sakura stared mutely at each other. They both knew that the longer they took to answer it, the more hell there’d be to pay.
“Kakashi I swear, if you don’t open this damn door–”
Kakashi quickly strode over and swung the door open before Kizashi could finish that sentence.
“Daddy?” Sakura squeaked, standing up.
Her father’s eyes dropped to her protruding stomach as her hand fell to it instinctively. For a moment, it looked like the wind had been knocked out of him; then his face screwed up and he shoved his way inside, leaving Kakashi to close the door in an attempt at some kind of privacy.
Kizashi spun around and growled audibly, his eyes narrowed in on his business partner.
This was it. Sakura knew what was coming.
Kizashi Haruno was infamous for his temper, and when he was at his most angry, her father was a rambler.
His hands flailed and gesticulated as he ranted. “Kakashi, you bastard! What the hell did you think you were doing with my daughter!? She’s soon to be betrothed, not the concubine of a low life porn smuggler!”
Sakura’s eyes widened at this piece of information.
“She’s supposed to lay with her husband, not some one-off, out-dated lady’s man! She deserves better! She deserves more respect than this! To think that Mebuki thought you were a good guy. What the hell is wrong with you, Hatake? I don’t care that you’re a staunch bachelor, you will do right by my baby girl and marry her before it’s too late! And don’t you dare try to blame my little girl for your midlife boner. Take some goddamn, fucking responsibility!”
Silence met this proclamation, but the air was still rife with the tension created by Kizashi’s anger. He huffed and attempted to calm himself; he wasn’t normally a violent man, but he really wanted to punch Kakashi’s lights out. But there was no way he would stoop to that level in front of his little girl. He would deal with that urge later.
Kakashi, for his part, looked thoroughly shamed. He sighed, ran a hand through his hair (again), and nodded toward his future father in law.
Meanwhile, Sakura’s heart was racing. When the hell had this escalated to marriage? The logical part of her brain knew she could no longer marry that son of a friend within their Roma clan, but to marry Kakashi… Well, it wasn’t a horrible idea. But her brain had yet to plan ahead that far, so she was gobsmacked by her father’s insistence; not to mention Kakashi’s strangely immediate acquiescence to this demand.
“Sakura!”
“Daddy?”
Kakashi took the hint and stepped into the kitchen to give them privacy, a little too fast for Sakura’s liking.
Kizashi sighed, one hand falling to her stomach as he kissed her forehead. “What am I going to do with both of you?”
“Daddy, I—”
“It’s my fault. You felt you couldn’t talk to me. Did he… uh, take you against your—”
“No, daddy,” Sakura said, clasping his hand that was still on her stomach. “I wanted it.” She blushed as he glared up at the ceiling. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know. I got your letter.” He sighed as her face dropped. “I just want what’s best for you and I’ve failed you. Now you’re trapped with Mr. King of Black Market Erotica. Nothing immoral,” he assured her when she scrunched up her face in disgust. He sighed again. “Hatake! Get your arse out here!”
Kakashi did as he was told and waited until Kizashi had finished ranting at him again before seeing her father out. “I’ll be in touch for preparations,” her father said, before the door closed.
“Well, that went well,” she chuckled nervously.
They stood in silence again. It felt like she’d aged ten years in the last ten minutes. But as Sakura rubbed her stomach, and Kakashi couldn’t help but watch the motion carefully, she thought maybe that was okay. The father of her baby was no spring chicken. She smiled and he stepped over to her cautiously, placing a hand on her stomach.
Those mismatched eyes of his stared down at her and her breath caught in her throat as they twinkled, and he smiled. He was so beautiful. She suddenly couldn’t wait to see what their child would inherit from him. Sakura stood on her toes, held his face in both hands, and kissed him. He responded immediately; every inch of her body hummed, reminding her of their night together. Of their connection.
“I’ll do good by you, Sakura. I promise,” he said, once they were forced to stop in order to breathe.
And she believed him.
.:.
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Dressed Up, Part 1 of 2 (An I Give Up Deleted Scene)
Genre: Fluff / Sexually Suggestive Situations(15+)
Characters : You x Baekhyun
Word Count: 7.4k
A/N: Warnings: a pretty woman makeover, nudity, an attempt at seduction via video call, Houston we have a sugar daddy.
[Part 2]
IGU Deleted scenes masterlist
This shop wasn’t your usual style. What was your usual style? The sale rack at that department store in the mall. This place was definitely not your style. The second you walked in you could feel it. There was a mild and pleasant fragrance wafting around your nose as you stepped through the double french doors and from the corner of your eye you saw a woman dressed smartly with a tasteful pencil skirt and heels that were not too high for a full shift of standing on her feet.
If she made any judgements about you upon entering the store, she kept them to herself. The fact that you didn’t quite fit the look of this boutique’s typical clientele wasn't lost on you and you nearly spun on your heels right on out that door before she was able to call out her welcoming greeting.
‘Something nice. This is going to be black-tie so go buy something nice. Ask the shop ladies for suggestions…’
You couldn’t leave. The company party was tonight and you’d be damned if you would be the only one wearing a five year old sale rack little black dress from the back of your closet. You didn’t even want to think about the complaining such a move would produce from Baekhyun. You’d surely never hear the end of it.
The woman in the tasteful heels immediately approached you with a stepford-wife smile on her face. You’d taken seven steps inside and weren’t circling around toward the exit despite glancing at the first tiny price-tag that hung from the sleeve of a plain white designer blouse. It wasn’t even that fancy of a blouse. It just had round pearled buttons going down the front and looked like it might even be a bit see through in the right lighting and -- sweet jesus, it was thousands of dollars. For a white shirt. Your eyes widened on their own and immediately you shook away the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach.
‘...and please, just don't look at the prices. Please just ignore that...for me, huh? Like the way I ignored the six packages of sausages you accidentally threw away because the lighting was bad and you thought that they were expired when they totally weren’t and I just ignored it and cried silently in the bathroom because of all those delicious sausages that I had just bought and you threw them all — just….’
His heavy breathing echoed into your ear and you could practically feel the heat from his lungs coating your eardrum with his frustrating memory of that single week when you’d been on an obsessive cleaning kick since watching Marie Kondo saving counter space and saving lives in the process.
‘Just ignore the price. Like I ignored the second love of my life being wasted like...like some common garbage. Please...do this for me, as the first love of my life...’
Was this really the right place? You had checked the address for the boutique three times in your phone before you even exited the taxi cab and it all seemed to match. This was the honest to god place, Byun Baekhyun, your foolishly loveable husband, had sent you to buy your evening gown for tonight’s party. You had an appointment at a salon after this and you didn’t quite know how you would get through the evening in one piece after all the strangers and their fussing.
Baekhyun had asked you to come. Baekhyun wanted you there and it was an important evening to him. A social event with the influential, the powerful, the up-and-comings in his industry and with his friends and he wanted you, his (still secret) wife on his arm. You were certain he would be dressed impeccably with a tailored suit, shined shoes, full hair and makeup no doubt. If there was one irrefutable fact about the man, it was that he thrived when he looked good. And he was going to outshine all others. The least you could do was put forth a little effort.
“Welcome, Miss,” the woman spoke up at last and your smile felt entirely too tense to look natural on your face. “Mr. Byun called ahead. If you would follow me, we have a selection of pieces for you to try.”
Pieces. They called the dresses pieces which meant they surely would carry a price-tag that rivaled some of the art that hung on the wall of that exclusive art gallery you saw next door.
And he called them ahead for you?
Of course he did. That was probably going to be the least surprising thing about this entire evening. That Baekhyun was simply unable to contain his excitement about a fancy schmancy dress up party which the both of you were attending together; of course he couldn't resist getting in on the decision making. You wondered what sorts of dresses he’d instructed them to pick. You wondered if he paid any attention at all to keeping within some sort of a budget. That sort of thing didn’t really seem appropriate in a place like this though.
You found yourself seated in an armchair and beside you sat a crystal glass with cold ice water. You began to reach for it, but quickly pulled your hand back as images of knocking the whole thing over on yourself played through your mind.
There was but a pause to breathe before the parade began. Young women with matching uniforms all carrying evening gowns in different shades and styles all walked before you with their smiles pasted firmly to their faces and their eyes all fallen down just so. You’d been so caught off guard by the fact that not a single one of them would look you in the eyes that you forgot to look at the first five dresses that passed you by.
It wasn’t until the color red popped like a bubble in your field of vision and pulled your focus down to the gown that was making its way directly in front of you and you looked down at it and...and...
Oh.
Oh my, that was…
You sat up straighter -- a gut reaction -- and the woman carrying the red gown stopped her movement the moment you flinched.
“Can I just…” You hated to interrupt their little show, but this one felt different than the others somehow. Despite with the way it hung lifelessly in her arms like a deflated balloon you could see the quality of the sheer fabric that draped over the floral lace bodice below. The neckline below the tulle plunged deep and from the look of it, the skin-tone fabric bodice gave the illusion of showing a lot more skin than it actually did.
You couldn’t possibly pull this dress off, could you?
“Ahh, the Valentino. Excellent choice — bring that one. She will wear the Valentino.” A voice boomed from somewhere behind you and the once quiet sales woman that initially greeted you was clapping her hands as she directed her army of dress-cradling women to leave the room. Only a select few remained for the fitting.
As you threw away your reservations of disrobing in front of a room full of eerily quiet strangers, you placed your first tentative foot inside the open gown and as it was pulled up and closed up around you, one thing about this dress became abundantly clear.
You weren’t just wearing the Valentino.
Oh, no.
The Valentino was wearing you.
Your first spin to face the triple mirrors that lined the wall had you under a spell and the flow of fabric that swayed and followed your spin made you feel powerful. Perhaps it was the very real skin just above your navel that was made visible by the deep plunge of the neckline below the red tulle, or perhaps it was the way the contoured lace fabric hugged your breasts, leaving them covered while giving the illusion of leaving them bare -- and the curve around your hips that cinched around your waist and flattered the shape of you -- but, wow, this dress was incredible. This dress hugged your every curve as if it were created with only you in the designer‘s mind.
This dress was...yours. Marie might even say that it sparked joy in a way that no other garment that had been placed upon your skin in this lifetime had ever done before.
The bright overhead lights brought out a sparkle in your eyes that made you feel like a hundred carat engagement ring sitting inside a locked display case of the finest jewelry store in all of the world and as you ran your fingers down the curve of your hips, finding the spot where the under dress ended up high on your thighs and the sheer red continued as if it’s only job was to tease at the idea of a covering -- you visibly swooned.
“How much is this one?” Your voice sounded dreamy, heavily affected and almost drunk, and you caught a glimpse of humanity as you made a split second of eye contact with one of the women who had helped you into the dress. As quickly as it happened, she looked away from your face and into the face of the shop woman behind you, but her cheeks were pink -- her eyelids fluttered rapidly. It was a hairline crack in her composure. The slip of the woman made your cheeks feel flush and you remembered where you were and who you were and what kinds of questions the patrons of this shop didn’t usually ask outloud. You wondered if in another life, you and this young woman who steadied her gaze away from your prying eyes, might have been friends.
“It’s within the budget, Miss,” the shop woman said.
“There is a budget?” This time your question was genuine curiosity and you lifted your brows and spun to look into her amused face.
“There is a minimum budget, yes.”
Impossible. He was impossible.
“Just tell me how many zeroes.” It felt like bargaining with the enemy at this point and the stitched floral design in the lace bodice had some sparkle to it when you rocked your hips back and forth in this lighting. It was probably hand stitched by an expert seamstress. Someone had loved this fabric with their fingertips and a needle and sterling thread and you hoped their hard work had been handsomely rewarded.
She had gone quiet behind you and you figured her bonus was at stake if she spilled the beans your dear husband had insisted she keep a tight lid on so you lifted your chin and let out a sigh of defeat.
“I’ll pay with my own card.” It looked like defeat to the casual observer. Yes, you were using the card he gave you and yes, it was funded by his money. Yes, he would get a text message that the card was used with the purchase amount and location but the benefit of using your own card meant that you would also get the same text message.
If it was too much you could always just return it then and there, right?
Maybe you could go to the mall and find something there that looked just like this if you squinted and covered one eye as you looked at it.
Your card was already swiped and yet, the dress that had just been charged was nowhere in sight. There was a second where you paused and your eyes wandered over the faces of the shop attendants with just a hint of a question on the tip of your tongue. Your card was quietly returned by the sales woman and her smile preceded her answer to your unspoken question.
“We will have it delivered to your home within the hour.”
Oh, right. Rich people didn’t carry bags. Well, except for the designer ones hung over their limp wrists with the logo facing outward for all to see.
It was for the best anyway, you had two more stops to make before checking in with the dog sitter for the evening. She, a young girl named Sunny, had been highly recommended by one of Baekhyun’s bandmates for her reliability and patience with young puppies. In fact, she was going to be taking care of two poodles that belonged to another member tonight along with your and Baekhyun’s new puppy. You tried not to worry too much for the tiny ball of fluff. After listening in on Baekhyun’s phone call with Sunny, you were certain the poor girl had been given plenty of helicopter-parent instructions from him, she didn’t need your worried phone calls to add to the mix.
You were already on your way through the double french doors of the shoe shop when you felt the vibration of your cell phone through the layers of your leather bag against your hip.
That would be it; the text message alerting the card holder that their credit card had been used to purchase a, most likely, obscenely expensive garment that would be worn exactly one time. Did you dare look? Maybe looking was a bad idea. Maybe when you looked you would lose the nerve to make your way through the double french doors of the designer shoe store that was next on your itinerary.
Your fingers felt itchy. The back of the taxi was quiet enough to hear the sound of your cell phone calling out your name, telling you to check to see what the damage was so you could begin freaking out already.
You were powerless to stop yourself and as you pulled your cell phone out of your bag you felt it vibrating again, this time for a new text messages that had just arrived.
On your screen, just above the notification that read ‘A transaction has been made on your credit card in the amount of…’, sat a new text message notification from ‘Curry & Chocolate’ and you clicked there first. Would Baekhyun have something to say about how much the dress cost? Would he shake his head that you had squandered so much of his hard earned money on something so frivolous and wasteful?
‘Omgomgomgomgomg asdflakdfja;lkjfa … which one did you get?!!!’
This was followed immediately by a message that read ‘WAIT NO DON’T TELL ME!! I want to be surprised,’ that was succeeded by every single heart emoji he could find in his phone’s keyboard.
You hadn’t actually ever done this before. Gone shopping without him, spending vast amounts of money on yourself like this, and you could see the excitement in the messages that came one after another on your phone.
‘Is it too pretty? What if you look too pretty and i faint in public?’
‘It’s not like this is our wedding day -- you can send me a picture as you’re getting ready, so i can prepare myself, right?’
His enthusiasm was adorable and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from giggling all alone in the back seat of this taxi.
‘No, don't send me a picture. I want to be surprised. I’ll just drop dead, it’s okay. I’ll die happy.’
Knowing Baekhyun as well as you did, you knew that his meandering mind would eventually settle itself on its own and you didn’t have to respond to these messages with anything except for a few heart emojis and a quick reminder that you were still not done shopping for tonight. You replied that you had just arrived at the shoe store and would be quite busy in the salon for hair and makeup shortly after.
You weren’t sure what you had been expecting. The fancy dress store had lead you into a false sense of security that made you forget that designer shoes were just as ridiculously overpriced as designer fashion was and you sighed right out loud as you handed over your card to pay for the strappy heels with the blood red lacquered soles whose designer’s name you couldn't even spell without the assistance of autocorrect and you swallowed down the guilt that you would be wearing something on your feet that, if sold, would feed a family of four for several months.
Your hands were shaking when you signed the receipt and when your phone vibrated again, alerting you of the charge to your card, you cursed at your ability to do mental math as you began to tally up the totals.
Of course he texted you again after the bank did and the diamond and heart emojis that he sent did not help ease any of the guilt, despite the weirdly obvious clues that he was somehow having a fun time watching you spend so much of his money. At this rate, you would be the most expensive thing on his arm tonight — blowing out of the water, the hefty price tags of any of the fancy watches he could choose from to adorn his wrist. Even if he wore them all at once, they would not compare.
Your nails were done; hands and feet to match the red of the Valentino (because everything else should fall in line when this dress was clearly the one in charge) -- your hair was halfway there and the makeup on your face was pristine and set with products that the beautician swore would not budge all night long and all you wanted to do was curl up and take a nap by the time you were done with all the card swiping and receipt signing.
You had a schedule to keep though, and once through the doors of your home you were called back to the ringing doorbell when the deliveries started. First it was the dress, shoes; a new clutch for tonight’s essentials and when the door rang again you glanced around at all of the crisp and expensive packages, taking a quick inventory and coming up with a new question mark. Everything you had purchases today had already been received, yet the young man in the classy suit who stood at your door was holding a package in his hands with the markings from a store you had not visited today.
You were friendly enough although hesitant to receive this latest delivery for fear that it had somehow been sent in error. The man in the suit smiled wider and urged your focus down, pushed the package closer to you and his eyes begged you to just take it already. When he confirmed your name and you admitted that, yes, you were the person he sought out you really had no other move but to finally accept what he was offering.
You felt downright funny about this. The package was small; not another evening gown or pair of shoes. You’d seen enough of high priced boutiques today to recognize that this item was of a similar source. Only as you reached inside and pulled out the heavy black clamshell case, you knew immediately that you were handling expensive jewelry and you definitely had not visited a jewelry store in your shopping today.
Inside, the clamshell was velvet lined and housed a set of jewelry — sparkling diamonds, lots and lots of them. You saw teardrop earrings that matched a diamond necklace and even a delicate bracelet with the sparkling stones going all the way around and you set the whole thing down onto your granite kitchen countertop to get a good look at the way the stones took ahold of the fluorescent lights above your head and shot them back at you from all directions. The sparkles were astounding. The cuts of each stone overwhelmed and you also had to get a good breath of air into your lungs because you honestly had been holding your breath as you stared at the gorgeous jewels before you.
It was too much...but at this point would such a statement even make any difference? It was already here in your hands.
You pulled your phone out and snapped a shot of the jewelry, slightly annoyed that your phone’s camera couldn't capture the full range of sparkle, and you sent the image to your husband.
‘Please tell me this is rented.’
He didn’t respond to your text message and the longer you looked down at the jewelry, the prettier the sparkle of those stones looked once you moved in the recessed lighting of your bedroom.
The more you touched them and handled them and held the necklace up against your neck or the earrings up to your ears, the more beautiful the image of those diamonds adorning your skin made you feel and when you stood in front of floor length mirror in your spacious bathroom you were wearing them all, and you wore absolutely nothing else to compete with the sparks of light shooting off of those precious stones that decorated your body -- and oh, you felt it.
The priceless and perfect, here and now.
You felt like possibly a million bucks even well before you put on the dress and everything else this man had already provided for you.
This was his mark. The strands of diamonds that completely encircled your wrist, throwing fire with each slight movement of your hand over the bare skin as you raked perfectly manicured nails over one bare breast. You watched the light travel over your skin and you felt the traces of him all over you.
The shine of the biggest stone, seated over the hollow of your neck, where his lips and teeth had tasted your skin countless times, that stone there beckoned to you with the sweet softness of his voice - mine, mine, mine, as he often called out in the warm pauses between breaths.
An urge was brewing inside of your chest. Below where the diamond sat, deeper inside where with each of your deepest inhales could not seem to satiate. Your slow exhale only quenched the superficial need for air, but this urge ran deeper.
This was not something you and he did.
You had never allowed it before — extravagant and expensive gifts. Sure he had tried in the past but you had put up enough of a fuss about the price of things he gifted you, and the unfairness of it. That you could never match the price tag with the things you bought him. You’d made it clear that this sort of disparity irked you and he had always followed along, choosing instead gifts with more sentimental value than monetary value and you and him both treasured the meaning behind these gestures above all else.
But this—
What would be his meaning behind the diamonds?
That tonight was such a special occasion and your ensemble required only the absolute finest embellishment. Ornate, gilded, and as beautiful as the love you felt when you looked into his eyes.
Was this how Baekhyun wanted to show off his love for you? Could his intentions be this obvious?
A single faint vibration sounded from the dresser of your bedroom and you pulled your eyes from the mirror for a moment.
‘What are you doing~’
He couldn’t have possibly been bored. He was supposed to be getting ready for tonight, and you knew he had less than an hour before he had to be at the venue and you had been scheduled to arrive within the following hour to keep the photographers, who likely camped outside, in the dark about the true nature of your relationship with your very successful and very important idol.
‘I am trying on the diamonds’
It wasn’t, ‘I am googling the price’ or ‘I am returning them to the store’, instead you were uncharacteristically and alarmingly honest about just how weak this particular set of jewelry had made you. Perhaps it had been the entire day of shopping and your sense of proper wifely behavior had been thrown off, but that urge that sat inside of your chest swelled up again, inflating your lungs and making the lights from the ceiling reflect beautifully off the enormous diamond that hung around your neck.
When you turned your head, the teardrops hanging from your ears swayed with the movement and you tucked an invisible strand of hair behind your ear to watch the delicate way your bracelet slid over your arm with the motion.
‘Oh?’
His response was tentative. It was the tip of a toe dipped into a swimming pool and pulled back out again. Only to check the temperature, of course. He wasn’t about to dive in just yet.
The deliberate silence that followed that single syllable word was an advanced tactic that you had been entirely unprepared for and you held your phone in one hand looking down at the screen, simply unable to believe that he had no follow up inquiry for you.
He wasn’t even typing.
He had gone completely silent after that gentle and soft nudge that had filled you with so much curiosity and tension that it sent your thumbs down hard on the screen of your phone. You hit a few random letters and deleted them, surely giving away your obvious unrest after his ploy.
Didn’t he have anything else to ask you? Didn’t he want to know if you liked them, or maybe give you some details about how he just happened to run across this particular set of jewelry that looked as if it were made specifically with your tastes in mind when you had been given less than three days notice about this entire event and the fact that you would be attending had been well up in the air until this very morning. Did he really have nothing more to say?
You were being baited. You knew this.
‘They are very, very beautiful, Baek...’
It worked.
You had barely hit send when you saw the graphic on your screen that told you he was typing out a response.
He had been waiting it out.
‘Can I see?’
The air surrounding your bare skin had, prior to his simple question, felt quite warm and comfortable in temperature, yet the second you read his request you felt a chill run along your bare thighs; traveling quickly without a clear destination. It spread over your skin, pulling and puckering up your nipples and leaving the surface of your skin rough with goosebumps that reached well to the back of your neck.
As quick as the chill, came the heat and the surface of your cheeks felt warm to the touch as you typed out a three word response to the man who held more power over you than any other soul to walk this earth.
‘Are you alone?’
Baekhyun’s reply came without delay.
‘Mhmm’
Your fingertip stuttered for only a moment and you toyed with the decision.
You shouldn’t encourage this, the lavish spending you had always denied. You shouldn’t reward it.
And yet, a set of jewelry had never quite made you feel this way before. Sure, the tasteful diamond solitaire ring you wore on your finger was the symbol that brought all the warmth and love to the surface of your mind every time you looked down at it.
But this, it was Byun Baekhyun polished and sparkling bright and lovely around your neck. It was the years you had shared together dripping like liquid from the tips of your ear lobes and it was his long shimmering fingertips clasped around your wrist; holding on tight and promising to never let you go.
The video call was ringing and after a second of darkness the call was connected. You were rewarded with the view of his face; the top of his, already styled, light pink hair and dark eyes lined with the barest of eye makeup, applied by an expert’s hand, and his eyes focused on the view of you in front of him.
His eyes were moving and you knew from the way you held the phone and the image of yourself from the corner of your own screen, exactly what he would see. It would be the image of you, completely naked, except for the earrings, the necklace and the occasional spark of light from around your wrist.
Baekhyun’s eyes widened marginally, only enough to tell you that this was a surprise and you could hear the small puff of air exhaled through his parted lips as his eyes took in the sight of you.
He then closed his eyes and ran a hand with slender fingers over the length of his face, settling that hand over his mouth and his eyes pulled open again much too slowly. He hadn’t yet said a damn thing about what he thought about the diamonds.
Didn’t he think they complimented your skin tone perfectly? Didn’t the way that big stone pulled the delicate chain downward make your neck look pretty?
Did the sparkle of diamonds around your wrist make him want to hold your hand perhaps?
“Do you like them?” He finally spoke when he had removed his hand from over his lips and his voice was soft and low. Once the question was out he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and he bit down. His eyes darted up to touch yours once before they drifted down again and you wondered if he was looking at the diamonds anymore or…
“I love them,” you whispered and lifted a hand to show off the way sparkles caught the light.
Your declaration pulled his eyes back into yours and pulled his lips wide as he flashed the smallest smile of satisfaction. This look on his face was somewhat hard to read. Of course he was quite pleased with himself, but there was something else inside of his eyes as his smile slowly fell and evened out again and his lips parted and a tiny puff of air escaped through his mouth.
“You look so, so beautiful in them,” he inhaled through those parted lips and narrowed his eyes, looking almost intoxicated as he seemed to loosen his focus, “I knew you would, when I saw them...I just— I couldn’t help myself, baby.”
The excuse was the first bit of a clue he had given you of the incredible cost. As you had suspected when you first saw them, they had to cost a lot.
He could not help himself, he said. Their beauty was simply too great to resist when he thought of spoiling you in such a way with this incredible gift. The idea that this man loved you so much, he was powerless against such a temptation...perhaps it was you who was intoxicated.
“Were they very expensive, Baek?” The sound of your voice was soft and heavily affected now and you played with the necklace with your fingertips.
A sound betrayed him. A throaty whine, cut off quickly when he snapped his lips shut and he closed his eyes. He inhaled through his nose before you saw the up and down movement as he nodded his head. Yes. Yes they were.
“Do you always try on jewelry this way?” It came out almost as a complaint and you felt your lips pull into a smile. You enjoyed the thought that you could still have such a powerful effect on him.
“I want to buy you more,” you heard him say under a breath, his words trailing through the effort of their escape, “if this is how—”
“You did say you didn’t want to see the dress yet.” You lifted your shoulders with a little shrug as if you had merely been complying with his own request from earlier and not playing any dirty tricks involving expensive diamonds and gold and nipples and your navel and collar bones and the invitingly suggestive way you now leaned back onto your bed. The same bed that exactly four weeks prior he had pressed your back into as he pushed inside of you.
He had yet to return to you since then and you could feel the longing beginning to turn into desperation.
So that’s what the urge was. It was to be felt and touched and kissed and thoroughly had by your husband.
The same one who was staring now, cheeks flushed, so much more than the makeup he wore. He was positively pink, to match his hair and his lips.
“Do you miss me as much as I miss you?” You asked with the desperation sitting heavy on your tongue. You were certain he could hear it. You would do anything, you’d spend a million dollars just on yourself. You’d accept the luxury car he had been trying to sell you on. You’d even learn how to drive it. You’d do anything if it meant you could have just a little bit more of this man.
You laid a hand, the sparkly one, over your chest, between your bare breasts, where you could feel the steady thump of your heart. Something had changed on the other side of the screen and you lost Baekhyun's eyes for a split second as he glanced at something behind him. A noise perhaps. Did someone knock?
He returned to you promptly and leaned in too close to the screen for you to make anything of his face.
“Baby, this...this is already too much. How am I supposed to put on my suit if I can’t zip up my pants?”
When he leaned away from the phone enough for you to actually read his expression again you could clearly see the struggle written all over that pretty face. But, God, was he pretty. His hair was styled up, a rare hairstyle for him, and one that always made your knees weak.
There was an alarm ringing somewhere inside his room. You felt downright victorious when you shifted and let your knees fall open slightly, just enough to show off the full body wax you’d subjected yourself to as a part of all inclusive spa treatment paid for by the one and only EXO’s Byun Baekhyun and he covered his lips again with a hand that was much less steady than at the start of the call.
“Oh,” you heard him whisper. “Oh god, I’ve...I have made a terrible mistake.” He said softly to himself and he was looking down from the phone. He was looking behind his shoulder. He was looking down at his lap and then away from the screen again, in the other direction. “I should not have asked to see a damn thing. I should’ve left it the hell alone—why...why did I ask to see?”
He was looking all over, but he was not looking at you.
He was not appreciating the way the line of sparks around your wrist traveled slowly down your stomach, lower and deliberate in direction. The occasional glance of his eyes when he was too weak to resist touched upon your movement and you smiled to yourself.
He had worked so hard. He had spent so much. The least he could do was watch you enjoy them.
“It’s—it’s time for me to go—baby,” he huffed through gritted teeth, “I — do you… do you like them this much? I have to put my suit on and go.”
You nodded your head — mouth agape as your legs parted further and you slipped your hand lower, the tips of your fingers finding the smooth skin between your legs, parted directly in front of your phone now propped on a pillow. You were already so wet, you just needed him.
“F-Fuck—Wh—what the fuck— what are you...doing with your hand?”
He was cursing now. The sound of it fueled your desperation.
“Fuck.fuck.fuck— my manager is texting me. You— fuck— I’m so fucking hard, how dare you. ”
“What are you going to do about it, Baekhyun?” You hadn’t expected your question to come out sounding quite so challenging but with your fingers running lazy circles within your wetness you were already feeling entirely too reckless to control your tone.
“I’ll...there’s no time. I don’t have time. I have to go. He’s already outside knocking and texting me, baby, I have to...do some squats or fuck it, I’ll tuck it in my waistband. I’m usually dressed right but I guess I’m dressed up tonight.”
“Are you really going to go?” The realization that he seemed to be quickly moving around his dressing room and the grunting you heard didn’t sound so much like sexy grunts and more like genuine effort made you sit up and look closely at the screen of your phone. He had sent it down and you could see movement as hasty arms were pulled through crisp white sleeves and his slim fingers fastened buttons and stuffed his stray shirt tails into his slacks.
You saw the evidence. Baekhyun had a full-on, sex-ready erection sending a bulge of black underwear through the open zipper of his pants and your arrousal/irritation that he would deny you so easily was temporarily halted by your genuine curiosity now.
You watched as he grabbed it. Just wrapped his right hand right around and his face twisted into one of pain as he seemed to squeeze down quite hard.
“Baek—don‘t...hurt yourself,” he looked like he was choking the life out of it and your voice took on a tone of genuine concern. You had seen one sex related injury come into your practicals at the hospital just this past week. The last thing this man (you) needed was to pull or strain something and be unable to fuck you later. You hadn’t seen him for a whole month. You did not want to wait even longer because he’d gone and broke his dick just because you had teased him too much.
His face ticked toward the phone and with all the ire and annoyance of a truly sexually denied man his words clipped back at you, “I’ve owned it longer than you have, darling. I know what I’m doing.” You held back the eye roll. You could write novels of all the ways you’d seen people hurt themselves when they had been positive they knew what they were doing.
Seemingly satisfied with his self aggression, Baekhyun pulled the thing up and with his other hand began zipping up slacks and shifting and pulling fabric around the offending appendage.
When he was all done, you had to admit it was hardly even noticeable unless you were you and you knew exactly the shape, length, width, and girth well enough to make out the exact outline of that dick inside of those pants. Of course you would easily find what was yours.
“I can still see it,” you said with a smug smile and his focus shot back at you with an equally smug grin.
“And I can still see what’s mine. All decorated so sparkly and pretty just for me. I might decide to add a pearl necklace too. If you love wearing my diamonds this much, perhaps you’d enjoy walking around with my cum on your tits all night.”
Your hand flew up to cover your mouth and you gasped. You actually scandalized-church-nun gasped right out loud and the action betrayed you entirely against your will.
Perhaps more shocking than the words themselves was the sudden realization that your own arousal seemed to be the one betraying you.
The image he had put into your mind...it sounded so filthy, and so damn tempting. To be marked as his so obviously. This man was so desired by so many, yet there was only one for him.
Only you.
Could this possibly be why you took to the jewels so strongly?
Your response came out sounding more like a dare than a denial.
“You wouldn’t.”
He leveled his eyes and that frustrated look on his face shifted into one of sudden understanding. A single eyebrow bobbed above his eye.
“Ohh,” he whispered inside of a breath and the corners of his lips pulled into a smile, “oh, you do want that, don't you?”
You felt unable to formulate a response. You doubted the question was rhetorical, yet you felt too stunned and too affected to reply.
“You know, it makes me so very excited to give you pretty things. Expensive things. Things that will show off your beauty. Things that show everyone that you are mine.
I would give you anything you wanted, my love. Anything.”
“Any—thing...” your words eked out slowly and softly in response to his, but there was little meaning in them. What you did feel deep inside your chest was a stronger sensation that had began to take root. Perhaps it had already been there; when you looked at him, through their eyes, the fans...when you saw the things they said about him, the yearnings and the longing they all expressed in elaborate and vivid ways.
And the feeling that grew inside of you as you watched them and all of their desperate wanting that was, again and again, denied.
When the cameras turned off and when the concert ended and the curtains closed and the staff went home and the acting ceased, Byun Baekhyun would pick up his phone and he would call you.
You would be at home or at school or in the subway or having lunch and your phone would ring and you would get his tired sighs or the subtle smiles and the pet names and when the stars aligned and his time off would coincide with your time off, your door would open and you would get his face and his lips and his smell and his skin and they...they had no idea.
This part was for you only.
And that feeling would surge again, just as it did when you unwrapped some gift he gave you, or opened your student loan statements to find that he had, again, made the last payment for you because the due date was coming up and you were going to be late due to your work payment schedule not quite aligning with the due date of the loan payment.
That feeling, it wasn’t quite the same as pride. It wasn’t smugness, or boasting that was fueling this, but it was an intense satisfaction that you were the lucky one. The one fortunate enough to receive his love. Baekhyun always found a way to make you feel like the absolute most important human in his world and even sitting here on the phone with him wearing the expensive diamonds he gave you, you could feel the profound gratitude that your life and his life had intertwined at such an important time as it had. That you had been given the chance to be loved and to love such a brilliantly beautiful man.
It made you feel the kind of special that did not happen to many people.
Baekhyun was dressed now. He was straightening a tie in a mirror and giving another rough tug at his waistband and he stood again in front of his phone, bending at the waist to place his pretty face into the frame of your video call.
You had given up on touching yourself by now. What was the point when he wouldn’t watch you do it.
“I’ll see you in an hour. You won't be late will you?” His voice still sounded huskier than usual but he was making the shift into business mode. You could tell in the way he straightened out his face, blinking his eyes wide before squeezing them tight and shaking his head a little bit to rid himself of whatever leftover effects of you might still remain there.
He was magical sometimes, the strength of character this man had inside of him was astounding.
After a few throat clears he opened his eyes. Baekhyun lightly kissed his fingertips and blew the tiny kiss toward you and responded with a little nose scrunch when you caught the kiss in the air in front of you quickly, before it could vanish, you laid it over your heart, where you liked to keep all of his long distance kisses.
The call went black and he was gone for now and you pushed yourself to your feet to finish getting ready for tonight.
[ part 2]
IGU Deleted scenes masterlist
#baekhyun#exo#baekhyun fic#exo fic#exo smut#baekhyun smut#exo ff#baekhyun exo fluff#exo fluff#baekhyun fluff#baekhyun exo#exo baekhyun#baekhyun scenario#baekhyun fanfic#baekhyun fanfiction#exo scenario#series#baekhyun series
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