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cardansriddle · 1 year

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Teach Me - ( tom riddle x fem!reader )

part 2

Summary: Feeling awfully inexperienced, you ask Tom to teach you how to kiss.

Warnings: friends to lovers trope. old-fashioned mindset because it's the 1940s. sexual tension. implied smut but no actual smut.

A/N: It's 4 AM and I had to quickly write this idea before I could lose motivation. I love this "teach me how to kiss" trope so much so let me know your thoughts abt this!

buymeacoffee <3

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Tom's low voice carried around you as you lay your head against a tree, eyes shut closed to enjoy the serene atmosphere of the day. You barely paid attention to the meaning behind the words he was reading from his book, instead letting the soothing voice lull you to a relaxed state.

You adored these little moments with him. Your friendship with Tom Riddle was an unexpected one, yet not unpleasant. Whatever had bloomed between you two was unique, and you cherished whatever attention he could give you because you knew it was only you that received these rare moments with him.

"I'm bored." You suddenly interrupted him mid-sentence, huffing and opening your eyes to stare at the thick branches above you.

"What do you want me to do about it?" The wizard asked dryly, causing you to turn your head towards him. The sight of his profile greeted you, and you enviously traced your eyes over the perfect slope of his nose and the sharp edges of his jawline. Truly, it was unfair that he had been blessed with such pretty features.

"Maybe we should put aside the book? We've been reading almost every day now." You suggested, continuing to stare at him while his gaze remained glued to the pages of the book. "Tom."

"Hm?"

"You are not even listening to me!" You hit his arm at his offensive behaviour. The action seemed to snap him out of his trance and he met your gaze at last, eyes dark and holding an expression of bemusement. "This is dull. Let us do something else."

"Do what?"

You shrugged. "Talk?"

He seemed to contemplate his options, knowing if he kept reading you would persistently annoy him until he could no longer focus but if he complied with your request, he would at least receive peace of mind. With a tired sigh, as if he was trying to appease an insolent child, he snapped his book shut and turned to face you fully, causing you to smile in triumph at your small victory.

"Well, talk then." He gestured with his hand for you to speak, but you only glared at him.

"No. I always talk. Perhaps you should tell me about one of your adventures. Or stories. Anything."

He almost whined your name in protest but you hushed him. An idea came to your mind, something that you had been meaning to question him about, and you sat up eagerly. "You could tell me what Xavier and Avery were talking about yesterday? Remember? Before you told them to shut up?"

Tom only stared at you, his lips beginning to quirk up in a half-smirk. "Those are not for your innocent ears. Or any ladies' for that matter."

Instead of discouraging you, his words only caused your curiosity to grow. "Oh come on, Tom! I thought we told and shared everything with each other." You pouted, eyes pleading for him to indulge you in those secrets.

"You must stop." He tried to warn you but you decided to settle your head into the curve between his neck and shoulder, to attempt and soften him enough for him to speak.

"Walburga always talk about stuff like that. We are not as naive as you men think us to be."

He scoffed and averted his eyes down to his closed book. "Walburga does more than talk about it and I would advise you to steer clear from her presence."

"Did Xavier and Walburga lay together?"

He stiffened, and you lifted your head up from his shoulder to look up at him. He seemed lost, not knowing how to direct the topic of conversation elsewhere.

"I wonder what it feels like." You continued voicing your thoughts out loud, missing the way his head turned towards you swiftly, entranced by your genuine and clueless curiosity. "I mean I do not know what exactly transpires between man and woman but I can imagine the—"

His hand grasped yours on your lap, halting you before you could finish your trail of thought. "We should not talk about this topic any further." Although his voice was as gentle as he could allow himself to be when with you, you could detect the finality in his tone.

"But—but Tom! Would you tell me?"

You observed him as he clenched his jaw. "When the time comes, your husband will tell you and show you."

"But I wish for you to tell me. Do you not think my future husband would prefer me to know what I am doing at the very least? What if my terrible inexperience will bother him?"

He was quiet, staring at you with a flurry of emotions in his eyes. Something about his gaze caused your cheeks to redden and you opted to look down at your fiddling hands on your lap.

"Perhaps you could teach me something." You muttered after a long minute, not daring to meet his stare.

Tom's heart began beating unevenly beneath his robes. All of a sudden he felt too warm, too suffocated in his clothes. Tom was not pure by any means. He did not care for honour or propriety. Nor did he care for the foolish yearnings of men and women. He had indulged in those acts before, once or twice just to attempt to satisfy his body's urges. But he never actively sought it out. And he never particularly enjoyed it. But with you in front of him, so close to him that he could feel the scent of your perfume, he was just a regular man. And he had never felt desire the way he did at that moment.

"Stop." He said with a hoarse voice, and he cursed himself lightly before clearing his throat and repeating the word. "This is highly inappropriate."

"Show me just one thing. Please? Please, Tom?"

His pants tightened and his breathing got shallow. If you kept pleading him and uttering his name with such need surely he was bound to break. Surely no one would fault him for sealing his lips and yours—

No. He berated himself.

"Tom?" You moved closer, your knee bumping his thigh—

Before he could resist, his hand slid to grab your jaw. "You are being insufferable. I am holding myself back to protect your honour and yet you insist on me breaking my resolve."

"One time won't hurt anybody. Please?" With your last plea, and with a confidence you were not aware you possessed, you climbed over him to straddle him, sliding down until you were settled in his lap comfortably.

Tom froze underneath you. He could only stare up at you sitting so innocently on his lap as if you were born to be there and attempt to blink away the very ungentlemanly, very filthy thoughts from his brain. But how could he? With you pressed up against him, with only a few layers of clothing separating you, how could he banish those indecent images away?

"Teach me how to kiss." Your small voice filled his head again and how could he deny you anything when you were a pleading and desperate mess for him?

"Just once." He muttered with his last remaining resolve, no longer able to resist the pull that was urging him to close the minute distance between you. He moved to press his lips against yours and before you could respond, he retreated to gauge your reaction, only for you to whine and eagerly reconnect your lips back together. The grip on your hair grew tight, and he fought with himself to maintain control. But it seemed you had other plans as you needily pressed against him, the kiss no more gentle, but intense and messy.

Your body felt as if it was set aflame from the inside, and you would gladly burn alive if it meant you could experience this for the rest of your life.

His hands slid to grab a hold of your waist, and he lifted his hips up to grind the straining material of his pants against you. You gasped into his mouth at the action, and he did not miss the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You moved your hips against his, feeling him hard underneath you. He groaned, the low sound travelling straight to your core.

"We should stop." He muttered between kisses, and your hand moved to take a handful of his hair and pull at it, causing him to look up at you with dazed eyes. "Or I will not be able to control myself."

"Don't you dare stop."

He moved his lips to the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing kisses along your throat before you felt his teeth bite into your flesh.

"Tom." You murmured his name in pleasure, rolling your hips against him once more to feel that pleasant ache between your thighs once again.

Suddenly, you heard the snap of a twig from somewhere behind you, and you pulled away from Tom in horror to look back over your shoulder. One of the Slytherin boys you did not recognize was standing there, eyes on you with an expression of bewilderment.

He had caught you in a compromising position. This was not appropriate. If he said anything about this situation, you would be ruined. You quickly removed yourself from Tom's lap and stood shakily on your legs.

Hesitantly, you looked at Tom, and he was staring at the boy with cold indifference as if this situation was not severe. Feeling embarrassed and utterly horrified, you did not utter another word before you rushed away from the place, desperate to return to your dormitory.

You worried that the boy would tell everyone of what had occurred, people would gossip about your ruination, but most of all, you felt betrayed that Tom had just sat there and done nothing.

If only you stayed long enough to witness Tom obliviating the boy, perhaps you would not be in such distress.

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geeky-politics-46 · 1 year

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Party For Two

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky discuss what he wants to do for his birthday and what he wants as his present.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - vaginal sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, light dirty talk, pet names, language, creampie, Bucky in his underwear needs a warning all its own

You could seriously just watch Bucky walk around in his underwear all day and be happy as a clam. You've told him before, and you'd tell him again. That he should just not wear clothes when you two were spending the day at home.

It didn't matter if he threw on a shirt. Some days, having his arm and his scars completely visible bothered him. Sometimes he had phantom limb pain and needed the arm off completely, prefering to cover his scars as you tried to help with the residual nerve damage in his shoulder and back.

Shuri did a lot, but she couldn't rewire the mess of his nervous system Hydra had left behind. Despite your assurance that you loved every inch of him, you would never push him to do something he didn't want to do. Some days were harder than others and you made sure he felt safe and loved even on his worst days. So your main rule was just no pants.

A man in his underwear should not turn you into this much of a hot horny mess, especially when you get to see him totally naked regularly. Although Bucky was an incredible specimen of a man.

Even now, you could see his lips moving, but your brain could not process the words he was saying. Not when those tight boxer briefs made his ass look like you could just bite into it. Not to mention how they perfectly cupped his bulge. The way you could just slightly see his cock and balls jiggle as he walked. It felt dirty but still kind of sweet.

It made you just want to play with his cock. Not necessarily in a hand job sexual way, but just hold it and pet it. Tell him how pretty and perfect his cock was. Gently massage and rub his balls and kiss all over him. He did have the prettiest cock.

You also loved how much he blushed whenever you told him how pretty his cock was. The old-fashioned boy from the 1940's was still taken aback by such words coming from your pretty little mouth. Even if it was a genuine compliment he still wasn't used to hearing a sweet pretty thing like you talk so openly about liking cock. Especially his. Especially when he wasn't already balls deep inside you.

Bucky agreed to the deal on the condition that you also wore no pants. You were allowed to throw on shorts or pj's on occasion, but only ones Bucky liked. Usually, you just went for an oversized shirt.

Honestly, the two of you became quite the pair of hermits or homebodies. Your happy place was your apartment. Just the two of you, and Alpine, of course. You had all settled into your little domestic routine quite well. You couldn't help the little contented sigh that left your lips.

It was then that you realized Bucky had stopped talking and was staring back at you, trying not to laugh at your deer in headlights expression. You were caught red-handed, staring at him again. He couldn't be too mad about you not listening if you were gonna look so cute when busted.

"You know I think you have a bigger staring problem than I do, babydoll."

You could feel your cheeks blush as you both dissolved into little giggles. You knew he wasn't mad, but you still apologized anyway once you composed yourself.

"I'm sorry, Buck. You are just too sexy sometimes for my brain to do anything but stare at you. I kinda like you, ya know."

You gave him a teasing smirk punctuating your statement. Saying I love you was still new to the two of you, but Bucky would say it over and over the first few days. You couldn't help but tease him about it. All out of your own love for him though, and he knew it.

"Well, if you had been listening, you would know that Sam is inevitably going to try to throw me some sort of birthday party. He's been dropping hints for days, but if he asks please tell him we already have plans. I don't care what, but I really don't want a party."

Of course, that's right. Sam had been after you about trying to do something for Bucky’s birthday. Sam wanted to go out and do something bigger. You knew all Bucky wanted to do for his birthday was be alone. It was hard for him think about all the birthdays, all the years, he had lost. He wanted to mark the day by enjoying the life he had waited so long for.

He had waited so long to be at peace. Even though he still had missions to go on and work to do in the field, and in his own head, he felt a stability that he had always dreamed of. He had an apartment. Even if it wasn't the most put together. He had a pet. Alpine the fluffy white feline rescue who has helped him just as much as he helped her.

Most importantly, he had you. He had an amazing girl that he wanted to settle down with. Create a home with. One day marry and have babies with. Assuming he could. He really didn't know if Hydra had done anything to affect his fertility. He didn't really want to know. For now, the 2 of you and Alpine was enough though.

That was what he wanted to celebrate, and he wanted to celebrate it by staying in with you. Just you, take out, tv or movies. Then, of course he planned to cash in his birthday points on dirty noise-complaint-getting loud sex. Some people may think it sounded boring, other than the sex part maybe, but that was exactly what he loved about it.

You could see him planning out the evening he really wanted in his mind. He always joked about not wanting anyone else in his head, but he did love that you seemed to be able to read his mind.

"What if I tell Sam that we are having a party and he just isn't invited? That it's a party just for two. Just you and me. I'll even let you pick dinner."

He pretended to think about it as he walked over to the side of the couch you were on. Reaching across the arm of the sofa to help you up onto your knees so he could wrap his arms around your waist. Letting yourself slide up his muscular chest and link behind his neck. A mischievous smile curled up on his lips.

"I like the sound of that. I do still want cake though. Are you planning any party games?"

You nodded at his request. Oh you were planning on cake, ice cream, whipped cream, chocolate syrup. Basically, any sort of dessert that could be enjoyed in both appropriate and inappropriate ways.

"Well cake is a given of course. I'm sure we can find all sorts of creative ways to enjoy it too. As far as games, I do have a couple things in mind. Tell me how do you feel about naked Twister?"

He grabbed your waist a little tighter and growled a little at the idea of the two of you bent into all sorts of compromising positions. His blood starting to rush to his groin as you toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You know, I may need a little practice. Why don't we have a little practice party right now? Just so I know what to expect on my birthday."

You smiled and shook your head at him, he knew you were a sucker for that look he got when he was feeling frisky. The crooked little grin, the way he would bite his lip, and the way his pretty blue eyes would sparkle. It was like your lips were pulled to his by a magnet. Moving closer on their own volition.

Not that you mind of course. Your thoughts had already been in the gutter from watching Bucky strut around the house in those tight boxer briefs. Now you knew his was there too. The feeling of his bulge hardening against you, confirming that and making you wiggle your hips in anticipation.

He pulled back so his lips were barely touching yours, eliciting a needy little whine from you. You wanted more of him. You always wanted more of him. His hands started to slide down your low back to cup your ass cheeks, bending his knees a little so he could get a firm hold on you.

"Mmm, can smell you, babydoll. You smell so good. Know you taste even better though. Taste even sweeter than that birthday cake will. I want a taste, baby girl."

He almost effortlessly scooped you up off the couch, your legs quickly swinging to wrap around his waist. Alpine had abandoned the couch to go hide under the table the minute you two started getting lovey. So without fear of stepping on her tail he practically sprinted to your shared bedroom, plopping you down unceremoniously onto the bed before lunging so he was on top of you.

His lips hurried back to connect with yours in a frenzy of playful, passion filled kisses. Letting your hands wander up and down each others bodies, rubbing and touching any bit you could grab. Slowly working to get your hand down to rub over his cock. Straining against the soft fabric of his underwear. Still getting harder as you massaged him.

You pulled your lips away from his so you could admire his cock in your hand. Even though it was still hidden behind the dark fabric, you couldn't help the way you licked your lips and moaned at the sight. He was just so perfect and thick. You knew the serum hadn't changed his height and size near as dramatically as Steve, but it did effect his muscle mass. You had a little bit of a hope that it had made his cock this thick. Otherwise those girls in the 40's wouldn't have survived.

"Starting to think you might be a little obsessed with my cock, babydoll."

He teased you as he started kissing and sucking at your neck. Letting you enjoy your view as he let his hips occasionally roll and rut into your hand. You hummed in agreement as he began teasing his vibranium hand up and under your shirt.

"Can't help it, baby. It's just so fucking perfect and big. Fills me up so good. So much better than any of my toys. Plus I kinda love the man it's attached to."

He nuzzled his face into your neck before you felt him grin against your skin. He whispered an "I love you too baby…". Suddenly moving quickly and knocking your balance out from you as he in one smooth move threw off the shirt you were wearing and rushing to get your panties off just as fast. Leaving you suddenly naked underneath him.

"... I'm also kind of obsessed with this pretty pussy. So I guess we're even."

His body dropping to the bed and your legs thrown over his shoulders as he descended on you. Wet kisses along the crease of your inner thigh, just shy of where you desperately wanted his lips. Jumping to the other side and letting his warm breath dance across your dripping sex.

You could feel his bright blue eyes on you as he placed his first long lick up your slit. Making sure to cover every inch from your tight light hole up to your clit. Stopping to place several small kisses and kitten licks on the bundle of nerves. Hearing your breath already starting to falter.

Bucky loved eating you out. It wasn't something he remembered doing more than maybe once or twice before you, and he can't remember enjoying it nearly as much back then as he did now. Maybe he was more selfish back then. Maybe those women had just been less secure and open about what felt good. Women being so vocal about enjoying sex was pretty taboo in his day, but the way you reacted to his mouth on you made him obsessed.

Each time you moaned as swirled his tongue around your clit. Each time you would grind against his face as he thrust his tongue inside you. Each time you would pull his hair as rubbed his whole face farther into your wet cunt. It all made him want to spend the rest of his life wirh his head between your thighs. Not even caring that he usually ended up so worked up he would start humping the mattress underneath him in an unconscious effort by his cock to get some sort of attention.

He didn't even want to stop after he heard you whine and moan his name when you came. Why would he stop when he had the opportunity to lick up even more of your sweet nectar from your orgasm? No, he only stopped when he had his fill of feasting on your cunt and your cum. Leaving you teetering on the edge of overstimulation.

"Definitely my favorite treat. Hell fuck the cake, I just want your pussy as my birthday treat. What you think, doll? Can I have your pretty slutty little cunt as my birthday present? Can I eat it and play with it and fuck it whenever and however I want?"

By now he started working his way back up your body as you clung to sheets arching into his mouth as he moved. Pressing your breasts against his face as he reached your chest. Greedily encouraging him to take one of your nipples into his mouth as his metal fingers pinched at the other. The contrast of his warm mouth and the cool vibranium making your skin prickle into goosebumps.

After switching sides, making sure to give both perky pebbled nipples the attention they deserved, he made it back up to your lips. Kissing you once before nipping at your lower lip playfully.

You had already wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to pull his pelvis to yours. Your fingers now tangled and tugging at the fabric of his boxer briefs trying to get them down. Desperately trying to get his cock free so you could feel him against your still soaked and needy cunt.

"I'm waiting for an answer baby, tell me and then I'll take these off. Fuck you nice and hard. Can I have your perfect tight little hole as my birthday present? I want to spend my party making you scream and cum all over my cock."

The sound of his filthy birthday wish pulled a deep groan from your chest. You wanted to spend his party doing that too, and what the birthday boy wants the birthday boy gets. You let your body go lax so he would be able to easily position you however he wanted you as you answered.

"Yes, Bucky, holy fuck yes! My pussy is all yours, birthday boy. Use it however you want, James. All for you."

"That's my good girl."

He got back up on his knees and shimmied his underwear down and kicking them off. You eyes glued to his cock before it even sprung free from the fabric. A whimper falling from your mouth when a dribble of pre-cum dripped from his swollen flushed cockhead onto your low belly. A string of fluid running from his cock and starting to make a mess on you. He knew by the look in your eyes that he had you in the palm of his hand. So you promptly obliged when he told you what he wanted next.

"Spread your legs farther, babydoll. Pull them back and hold onto your ankles for me. I want to see every little bit of my present."

Quickly you worked to fold yourself in half as best as you could. Opening you up even more to Bucky’s gaze. His eyes raking over your body as be stroked his length a few times. Stopping only when you started to wiggle your hips, trying to urge him to touch you.

"Impatient, aren't you baby?"

His tongue darting out to lick his lips, still swollen for having his face buried in your pussy, before a faux pout crossed his face. Cooing lightly at you as he started slapping his cock on your sensitive cunt.

"God you look so fucking good when you get all needy for my cock baby. Saw you get that look in your eyes earlier. Knew that smart little brain had stopped thinking of everything but my cock. It's all yours baby."

He placed his tip at your entrance and slowly started to push his hips forward. Sliding himself into you one inch at a time. Letting you feel every little bit of stretch he gave you. The feeling making you both moan in pleasure. Stilling in place once he had bottomed out inside you.

"Fuck darlin', that's the prettiest thing I've ever seen. Look so beautiful getting fucked with my bare cock baby."

You gave him a seductive look and bit your lip.

"Happy early birthday baby."

With that, he gingerly drug his hands from the backs of your heels all the way down to the backs of your thighs. Gripping onto the flesh there and bracing you for his next move. Bucky slowly started to pull his hips back and started building speed with his first thrust back in.

A feral look in his eyes as he watched where his cock was impaling you. Hypnotized by the sight. The image of your pussy stretched tight around his cock. The way his cock shined, wet with your arousal. It tipped him over the edge when he started hearing the wet squelch of your pussy as he thrust into you spurring him on to fuck you harder.

The headboard starting to thump against the wall under the force of Bucky’s thrusts. A litany of swears falling from both of you. Your moans and squeaks as he pounded you accented by the sound of his full balls slapping against your ass. Each of you getting closer to climax with each sound the other made.

When he could feel his balls starting to tighten and he knew he was close to blowing, he let his flesh hand dip to rub at your clit. Smearing your wetness around to make his action smoother.

After a moment of him touching your clit he found the perfect speed and spot. Feeling the fire start burning in your belly you let your eyes roll back in your head.

"Oh fuck Bucky, right there! Don't stop, baby please don't stop!"

His hips only sped up even more at your reaction.

"Oh don't worry, dollface. I'm not stopping until I make a mess in my birthday present. You want that babydoll? You want to cum in you pretty girl? Let me hear it baby."

Few things could throw you over the edge quite like Bucky when he talked dirty. It fueled that fire in your belly and sent it boiling over. As you came undone on his cock you practically cried for him to cum inside you. Your pussy squeezing and fluttering around his cock, practically milking him.

"James!!! Cum in me please, fuck I'm cumming for you baby. God you make me cum so good. It's your pussy daddy. Fuck it and fill it please, please!"

By the time you had finished cumming, you felt his cock start to throb as he climaxed. Your body still jerking from your own orgasm with each stream of cum you felt him shoot into you until you were nearly overflowing.

After a few minutes of basking in each other's afterglow, Bucky eventually pulled out of you with a groan and rolled over. Promptly grabbing you up in his arms again and pulling you over to cuddle. Pressing kisses into your hair as you drew little patterns on his chest.

"If this is what I can expect for my birthday party, then happy birthday to me indeed."

You gave him a wicked grin as you looked up at him.

"Oh no, Buck, this was just practice. Remember? Your actual birthday party is going to be even more fun."

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ineffableigh · 4 months

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The costume details in Good Omens never cease to amaze me

I was working on cosplay research and looked up 'men's dress shirt rounded collar' since I noticed Aziraphale's blue dress shirt collar is rounded, not pointed:

So it turns out...

"The rounded collar was part of Eton College‘s dress code beginning in the mid-1800s. Because men wanted to be perceived as belonging to this exclusive club, the rounded, or “club” collar was copied by the masses." (Source)

Between that and the fact that Aziraphale's waistcoat, from what I can find, most closely matches shawl collar waistcoat designs from the 1830s, and his waistcoat at Saint James Park in 1862 is the first one we see him wear that most closely resembles his 'modern day' one, it's safe to say our lad is stuck at the start of the 19th century.

Which COULD be hilarious given undergarment styles of the time:

Through the late 19th century - union suits! Lovely for cold London winters.

1907...

However, I suspect 1940s style to be most likely, as it seems to be what he emulated when pretending to be Crowley at the end of Season 1.

1940s undergarments:

Anyway this has been your fashion history dork brain dump LOL

#fashion history #historical fashion #good omens #good omens costumes #good omens cosplay #aziraphale #crowley #IneffabLeigh's Meta Tag

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fayes-fics · 3 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 4 - Le Rideau Tombe Avant La Fin

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none.

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is reader and Eloise's farewell to Paris. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Paris, September 1939

The next three days are a blur, fleeting but at once memorable, lived on borrowed time.

Knowing the inevitable is happening - that you will need to leave Paris soon - you give notice at work; so sad to have only been there for a matter of weeks rather than the planned months. On a brighter note, however, you are able to spend the days with Benedict, showing him all you have learned about art in the city in the short time you have had. Many a happy hour is spent in galleries. Both of you tripping over your words to share what you know about the art and the artists in a breathless, excited fashion. Kindred spirits in your appreciation of the works. Sometimes lost in a reverie as you stand in front of a canvas as large as your entire living room, the scale and complexity literally dumbfounding.

And, of course, a little of your heart is stolen with each moment together - the first person you have ever met who truly seems as enthused as you about the subject matter. That it's all wrapped up in that handsome face adds more complexity and confusion. You can't deny the skip in your pulse when he looks at you, weighted, a touch of reverence, so focused as you speak passionately on the subject you love. And you are certain your face is a picture of devotion as he waxes lyrical, too. You know you are getting swept up into the almost cliched romance of it all - the city of love, a handsome stranger, the no doubt impending invasion giving a sense of urgency and finality to every hour- it's a powder keg that feels dangerous as it is intoxicating.

—

Early evening of the second day, as you wander back from the Louvre, you pass by the offices of the cruise company you came from America with.

“Oh! I should speak to them about swapping my return ticket,” you comment, seeing the men standing outside in the smart red livery of the company, speaking in English to crowds of people inquiring about escaping France.

“See if you can move it to the day after tomorrow,” Benedict counsels. “That is the day we are due to set sail. We can all go to the coast together on the train.”

“That would be nice,” you admit, realising it will be lovely to have someone to wave farewell to, even if there is a little stab in your chest at the idea you may never see Benedict again. Or, of course, darling Eloise.

So, a couple of hours later, after an early dinner, you are back on this same street, your ticket in hand, waiting patiently to speak to one of the young men in uniform.

“Mademoiselle?” he beckons you forward.

“Good evening. I have a ticket to New York for eleven months, hence, 12th August 1940. I am hoping I can swap to a sailing in a few days? Ideally, the day after tomorrow?”

The men exchange glances, and there seems to be a swirl of excitement as they crowd around you.

“A real ticket?” one of them pipes up, an excitement in their tone which strikes you as rather odd.

With a nod, you hand it over, and they all seem to confer, then grab a pad of tickets and transfer some details.

“Not a problem at all, Mademoiselle. Here, this is for a sailing two days hence. Thank you for travelling with us!”

They seem inordinately pleased as you walk away clutching your new ticket, a mix of emotions swirling. The finality of your time in Paris suddenly so real, the date on the newly issued ticket, ink still drying, sinking in.

—

When you push open the door to your apartment, still with a tinge of melancholy, you are taken aback by the whirlwind you encounter.

“How did I amass this many mugs?” Eloise decries, standing amidst a complete bomb of possessions scattered all over the surfaces of your apartment.

“Well, you can't take them all home,’ Benedict points out wearily, “you have your case, and that trunk there, Eloise, and that is all.”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “Well aware of that brother…” holding a blue and red mug in each hand, assessing which she likes more.

“I suppose I'm lucky I've only been here a matter of weeks,” you pipe up as they both turn to look at you, Benedict shooting you a lopsided grin as Eloise barges forward and loops your arm in hers, dragging you across the room.

“Just the person I need!” she declares. “Help me! What mug screams, ‘I had a life in Paris once, and it was amazing’?” She gestures to the array of drinking vessels she has pulled out to the cupboard.

You ponder the question with a thoughtful pout. “Why not just leave them all for the next tenant? I'm sure Solene would appreciate the ability to rent out the apartment with kitchen supplies?” you try to be diplomatic.

“Yes, I know that,” Eloise sighs, “there were mugs when I got here. That, of course, got mysteriously broken after a few days, which is a blessing as they were all hideous…”

“You broke some perfectly good mugs?” Benedict frowns disapprovingly.

“Do you live here?” she shoots back pointedly, raising an eyebrow, “I am only seeking the counsel of those who live here… not a squatter,” she sniffs.

You share a look with Benedict - yours contrite, his bemused - as if this is just another day with Eloise. Which, to be fair, it sort of is.

“If I had to choose one…” you point to the cherry red earthenware mug that looks French in a way you can’t quantify; it just does.

“You’re right as always,” Eloise grins, seizing it. “Much better help than that one,” she adds, sticking her tongue out at Benedict as she wraps the chosen item in yesterday's newspaper.

“Packing going well?” you breeze, your eye again meeting Benedict’s as he pulls a face that makes you giggle hard.

“You try cramming nine months of freedom into a teeny trunk,” Eloise grumbles, heading towards her bedroom.

“I am just taking my clothes…” you admit. You only have a few additional items you purchased since you arrived in Paris that should all fit if you pack smart enough.

“That’s yours, by the way…” Eloise gestures to Benedict’s painting on the wall before she disappears out of sight. “I have no room for it, and it seems strange to carry a picture of a house I'm headed to…” she calls out down the corridor.

“I would love it…” you inhale, looking at the artist imploringly as if somehow you need his permission.

“Y-you want it?” Hesitant, disbelieving almost.

“If you will permit me,” you confess, clasping a hand over your heart.

“It is yours,” he replies, his face a mixture of pleasant surprise and humble acceptance.

You rush forward and take the painting off the wall, reverentially cradling it between your hands.

“Thank you, Benedict,” you sigh, a little fizz in your stomach at the idea he wants you to have it. Like you will always have a piece of him with you once you are apart.

“I can paint you others...” he offers quickly, in a rush of exhaled breath. “Whatever you want…”

Something in the tumbling sincerity of his words has your heart beating fast.

“I can think of nothing more appealing than a wall full of your works…” you confess while trying not to think that room would be thousands of miles away.

He blushes adorably, casting his eyes down until suddenly, his head jerks up again. “Wait I…I have something I want to give you, actually,” He scurries across the room and gathers a sketchbook. “I'm sorry it's not framed, but here…”

He carefully tears out the page from his pad. And your heart stops.

It's you from two days ago. Sitting on a bench overlooking the Seine, the Eiffel Tower over your shoulder as you read a book. You wondered what he was doing sitting a few feet away that day as you took a lunch break. Now you know. It's a perfect pencil rendering of the scene, each sketched line a wondrous recreation of that sun-soaked afternoon.

“Benedict….” all other words fail.

“I want you to have it,” he murmurs, “your time in Paris may have been unexpectedly brief, but you deserve a memento of the happiness you found here, however fleeting it had to be.”

Tears prickle in the corner of your eyes; you want to rush to him, to throw your arms around him, thank him profusely, but you are scared to. Scared that in the moment you would get carried away, press your lips to his…

“Thank you...” is all you can struggle out, inadequate and awkward.

“De rein…” Again, that perfect accent has you practically swaying

But the spell is broken when Eloise reappears, complaining loudly about the size of her trunk, and part of you is grateful for it. Guilt floods your being as you think how bad of a person you must be to covet your best friend’s brother when you have a fiance back home. One you will, in fact, likely see in a matter of days now… tamping down that disquiet, you excuse yourself to your room, placing your ticket on the mantel and refusing to look at it as you pick up a book to read.

—

Solene’s hug is so tight you feel like she is crushing your ribs. Or perhaps it's that you feel a little too fragile today.

“I shall miss you, ma cherie,” she mumbles into your hair before pulling back and seizing your jaw. “You will come back when this is all over, oui?”

“Oui,” you agree, knowing it’s more of a wish than a promise.

Once again, she pulls you in for a tight hug before turning to Eloise and clinging to her just the same, lingering longer.

“Souviens-toi, ma sœur,” she reminds Eloise, having told you the previous night that her sister lives just outside the port city of Le Havre should you need a place to stay for any reason.

It's two days later, the day of your departure, and your eyes ping around the now-tidy apartment, only furniture left where once there was a jumble of life. It looks much less like home, making handing over your key a little less painful. One final wistful glance at the Eiffel Tower out of the window is all you can manage before picking up your case and walking out, scared to look back.

Benedict is loitering in the corridor outside and shoots you a sympathetic glance as you exit, eyes glassy.

“You will return,” he offers solemnly, even as you both know it's just a platitude, before turning his attention to the apartment door. “Hurry up, Eloise, we need to get to the train…” he calls.

You start to move towards the sweeping staircase, preferring a long amble down its winding loop than the lift, your case feeling much heavier than when you arrived mere weeks ago…

—

You watch the puffs of steam float past the window as the train picks up pace, pulling out of Gare Saint-Lazare. Perhaps aptly, it begins raining soon after, streaks of water lashing the glass as you rest your head back into the seat.

“I can't bear to look at it,” Eloise sighs, closing her eyes so as not to see Paris slipping away.

You reach over the table between you and grasp her hand, and her eyes open to give you a nod of thanks before closing again.

“Why do you have to be American?” she whines. “I would do anything to have you come to England. We could get a little place together in London…” She winds her feet around yours like a vine, needing the connection in your last few hours together.

“If only…” you agree, a weight akin to a heavy boulder settling in your stomach at the idea you will soon be back on Long Island, a world that seems so…. staid to you now.

Benedict shoots you a sympathetic look across from his seat next to Eloise on the aisle but says nothing, going back to reading his book as it's your turn to sigh, the city now a blur outside the window as you speed towards the end of your time in France.

–

Half an hour later, Eloise is sleeping, her head lolling lightly on the glass with the gentle rocking motion of the train, now following the meander of the Seine just outside Poissy.

“She didn't sleep well last night,” Benedict observes, looking up from his book and following your line of sight. “I don't think she wanted her last night in Paris to ever end.”.

His words take you back to just hours ago, a rousing evening in your favourite local bistro filled with wine, camaraderie and song. Benedict didn't accompany you and Eloise, preferring to stay home and read, he said, but part of you wishes he was there to help commiserate and toast your final night chez Paris.

“You should have come out,” you opine with a slight pout, which makes him chuckle.

“It's not me who had to have the fitting farewell,” he points out with a sympathetic smile.

“Still, it would have been nice if you were there…” The idle thought is out of your lips before you can think about how that might sound, and you know you are blushing when his mouth opens a fraction in surprise, a dot of colour on his cheeks, too.

“I'm sure you still had a wonderful time,” he placates demurely.

You smile and nod, feeling a little twinge in your ankle from all the dancing you have done.

“Are you excited?” he asks, changing the subject.

You frown. “Why would I be excited to leave Paris?”

To be reunited with your fiance?” he answers slowly, a look of puzzlement on his face that it had not occurred to you.

“Oh…” you pause, your mind recalling Stanley’s smile, although somehow it seems faded now, like an out-of-focus photograph, as if you cannot wholly remember it now. “I… I suppose…”

His face is a picture of concern again. “You do not sound certain…” he hedges.

“I am not, to be honest,” you sigh for what seems like the hundredth time today. “These few weeks have… shown me so much of the world,” you explain, “I have had so many novel experiences, met so many wonderful new people…” you can't help but let your gaze meet his as you say it. “It makes my life before seem… small? Parochial?” you are clutching for the right words as his hazy eyes track your every facial move.

“Like an old shoe that used to be comfortable but now suddenly feels too tight?” he offers a metaphor that is so apt you can't help but nod.

“Exactly!’ you agree, enthusiastically waving your hand.

There is a quiet moment where your eyes meet again, a tingle over your skin, a pulse of energy so enlivening.

“Do you feel there is perhaps something out there better for you?” his ask feels loaded, a quiet murmur that carries so much hidden meaning but is nearly lost in the rhythmic sound of the train clattering over the tracks. So much so you could likely pretend you didn't hear, but you don't.

“I just might…” you answer softly, even as you are unable to look away. Something about this man makes you daring, unwilling to do anything but be bold.

Long, elegant fingers reach out over the table and are about to brush the back of your hand when Eloise suddenly startles awake between you. His hand disappears rapidly, pulling back as if burned. All you can concentrate on is the ashy taste of regret at your best friend’s timing.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fluff #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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kitspindles · 1 year

Text

I’m in no way bashing on people who have already finished TSatS and say they hate it, are disappointed, etc., because I myself have not gone past chapter seven. My friend let me read some today, but I won’t have my own copy until Thursday, so maybe my opinions will change. I will say, however, that if you read 400+ pages in less than a day, maybe give yourself some time to process the entire plot first?

In any case, I can’t help but wonder how many people went into this book expecting one version of Nico and Will, only to be hit with something else entirely. And I mean like... expecting the fandom’s versions of these two, rather than what canon has previously shown us up until this book.

It’s my personal opinion that the PJO fandom’s worse enemy is their own mischaracterization of the characters at times. And I don’t mean like little head canons and stuff. Everyone has done those at some point. There’s usually no harm in those. I’m talking about people who created their own versions of Nico and Will and have been running with these visions for years through different fan fictions and what-not online.

For years we’ve known basically nothing about Will aside from the fact that he’s sarcastic, likes Star Wars, his mom is a country singer, he can glow in the dark, and he’s better at healing than fighting. (And he has questionable fashion choice at times). Like, that’s all we’ve had since his initial introduction in The Last Olympian over a decade ago. Everything else? Online and fan speculation. And again, there is nothing wrong with that! I just feel like a lot of people went into this book holding onto their own pre-conceived visions of what Will Solace was and ended up disappointed the authors made him... different? But not really different, because he didn’t have a lot of in-depth personality or backstory before this.

Me personally? Yeah, I’m not that far into the book yet but I’m loving how Will is portrayed so far. He’s still sarcastic, but he’s shown his fair share of level-headedness as well as frustrations just within the first couple chapters. He is in no way the overly-optimistic sunshine-y boy who only exists to help Nico that the fandom has portrayed him to be all these years. His character arc is already headed in a way deeper direction (more on that when I finish the book). The whole bit where Will had coffee spilled on him and spent the next couple paragraphs in the scene trying to be unbothered while actually giving off “This is fine” fire dog energies? I loved that.

As for Nico, can I just say I adore how he’s written in this book? Aside from his PoV in Blood of Olympus, this is the first time he’s had his own narration. And it’s actually about him and more in-depth than previous times. I’ve heard people say that he’s “out of character,” and while I can see a little of what they’re all saying, I just want to know... what version of Nico have you all been reading? Did I miss something?

Up until this book, what exactly did we know about Nico? That he’s displaced in time, his sister and mother are both dead (and he feels alone), he harbored repressed gay feelings from his upbringing as a Catholic guy in 1940s Italy, and he’s been through the ringer more than once (so, trauma, basically). Oh, and he’s a bit of a nerd (Mythomagic and knowing all kinds of ancient creatures). That’s... about it. Everything has been speculation and projection from fans.

In previous books he’s always been portrayed from first- or third-person point of view (usually from people who don’t know him well and just think he’s “creepy”), leading to the idea that he’s distant and low-empathy based on some interactions he’s had with demigods who weren’t thrilled to be around him, during a time of great pressure. But he’s not exactly uncaring. He’s been shown to care a lot, actually (Bianca, Hestia, Bob, everything he’s done for Percy, his friendship with Reyna, Hazel, etc.)

But what about when he was ten? He was an excitable, curious kid who liked to have fun. And what did we see briefly in Trials of Apollo (before Jason died, at least)? We saw some of that energy return, particularly in The Hidden Oracle.

So, yeah, I’m personally thrilled to see him making cringe-y jokes and have some self-deprecating humor. It’s very “#OnBrand” for a traumatized teenager who’s just trying to cope and live life without any godly wars forcing him this way and that. Can we really say it’s “out of character” if we’ve never seen more than one side of Nico? (The under pressure side, from other character’s PoVs, in books not about him where he’s basically been a side character?) I’m just glad to see him cracking jokes, laughing, and acting more like a normal kid.

Now, is this book different from Rick’s other ones? Uh, yeah. I won’t say it’s not. But it’s not bad. It’s supposed to be different. It has slightly different intentions than the other books (re: explicitly working through trauma and relationship bumps). Also, it’s co-written. Co-written books always read slightly off from the original author’s work, but dam if it isn’t hard to meld writing styles and copy another author’s particular voice. But I think Mark did a very good job at imitating Rick’s style (again, from what I’ve read so far).

Will I change my mind on all this the farther I get into the book? Maybe. There’s a lot to read and take in. All I’m saying is don’t let the negative reviews warp your opinion of the book if you haven’t read it yet and are on the fence if you should or not. Wait for the PDF to drop, or for a library copy, and read and see for yourself.

#nico di angelo #will solace #the sun and the star #tsats #tsats preview #tsats predictions #pjo fandom #pjo hoo toa #rick riordan #mark oshiro #rrverse #riordanverse #riordan universe #Read Riordan #my stuff

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toxic-libra · 4 months

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style - jwy (m)

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader (interactive here) words: 6.9k genre: second chance romance, smut warnings: 3rd person pov, this is 'based' on style - taylor swift, mentions of old hollywood movies (please watch them bc they're super good), smut with biting, thigh riding, oral (m and f), not my best work but give me a chance pls a/n: i was supposed to post this on his bday, but i was at taylor's concert and lmao i kind of got depressed after and hated everything i wrote. this is my debut with ateez so i wanted it to be perfect, but inspiration just fucked me up and i decided to post it anyway since it's been too long already :(

Jung Wooyoung remembered it all too well. He remembered how the delicate musky sandalwood of her signature perfume made his heart tug whenever she was near, the way his stomach flipped when their eyes met, and how his fingers always itched to be touching hers.

Autumns and winters were always the worst.

He could hear all the lines of Rebecca (1940), one of her favourite movies, whenever someone tried to make small talk with him about the weather.

‘Most girls will give their eyes for a chance to see Monte.’

Clenching his jaw, he locked his phone and tossed it aside, trying to digest the fact he was the one who took that damn picture and she decided to post it just when it had been two months since they las saw each other. Not that she was as considerate as to block him so he wouldn’t spend hours on her social media, feeding on any crumble of appearance she dignified her followers with.

Y/N was petty like that.

She didn’t block him, no. She muted him and vanished from his life, but she didn’t give him the pleasure of not having to erase her from his world. If he wanted her truly gone, then he had to do it himself… Which, of course, proved to be a failure.

Because he didn’t want her gone. He tried moving on, only it didn’t work.

Wooyoung wondered if she also thought they made a huge mistake.

Turning his streaming service on, he searched for another one of her 40’s TOP5. Clicking on ‘The Shop Around the Corner (1940)’, the Old Fashioned tasted way bitter on his tongue than it should.

With a condescending sigh, he relaxed against his couch, and waited for Klara Novak (played by Margarete Sullavan) and Alfred Kralik (James Stweart – not surprisingly, one of Y/N’s favourite actors) to engage in their enemies to lovers plot as if he didn’t see that damn movie a thousand times already. Only this time, like others during this year apart, she wasn’t around to swoon over any minor interaction and to almost beam in happiness when Mr. Kralik said:

‘Take me out of my envelope and kiss me.’

Oh, there he went again… Quoting old movies like it was part of his personality.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

A month later

Y/N dried her hair and breathed in the woody scent of her haircare products – a tiny bit of her heart warming at the thought of Wooyoung. He used to love how she smelled.

“Are you ready, sis?” Jongho knocked at her bedroom door.

“Not even close! You can go first, I’ll tag along later.” She yelled back.

“I’ll wait, no problem. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the surprise by mistake.”

“You just wanna make sure you don’t miss his shocked face when he sees me.” She giggled.

“You know me too well.” He sighed in feigned despair. “But do hurry up, please.”

“I’ll try.”

Y/N couldn’t rush everything. She wanted to look so good Wooyoung would almost faint as soon as his eyes laid on her. Not that she wouldn’t almost faint either… Just the perspective of being at the same place he was made her throat dry.

She missed him in ways she never missed anyone else before.

Deciding on the black dress, she admitted that the fact that he loved that colour made her like it even more. The small slit that drew up her right thigh would also catch his attention, and she couldn’t wait to have it all for herself. Her jewellery were ones he gave her over her birthdays, just to poke at their own stupid game. She didn’t spend much time on make-up, choosing to remain simple and classic – eyeliner and red lipstick… Which Wooyoung also liked.

Most men hated being smudged with lip tint, but he adored it.

The first person she saw was Seonghwa. With one of the prettiest smiles that graced humanity, the tall and handsome man approached her with open arms.

“Isn’t this the greatest surprise ever?!” He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“Glad you like it,” She hugged him tight. “Because I’m back for good.”

“Oh.” Although subtle, Hwa’s smile faltered slightly.

“What?” She frowned.

“Does everyone know you’re back?”

“As of now, just Jjong and you.”

“Right. Makes sense.” He muttered to himself, doing his best not to look over his shoulder. It would be heart wrenching to let Y/N see Wooyoung with his date first thing inside the party.

Of course, she would eventually meet them… There was no way his friend would be as crass as leaving the girl alone because his ex (and the woman he was still in love with) was back in town. Wooyoung could be a little impulsive, but he had manners. And Y/N probably wouldn’t get that hurt from it, but she’d get hurt, nonetheless.

“What makes sense?”

“Oh, the fact that the boys were so quiet. If they knew you were coming, they’d be hyped as fuck.” It wasn’t even a lie, just not exactly the truth. “Let’s grab you a drink and get going, then.”

Hwa’s smile was slightly off, but she didn’t point it out.

Ordering her standard autumn/winter drink – French Connection –, Y/N relaxed against the bar stool. Jongho was nowhere to be seen, which made her a bit insecure. Things were always bit easier when her brother was next to her.

“So, what else is new? How are you guys doing?”

She was fishing for information, obviously. She couldn’t directly ask about Wooyoung because her friends didn’t know they secretly met in Monaco more often than not.

In her defence, the first time happened rather unexpectedly, and it led to a second, and a third… By the fourth, they decided it was better to pretend every time was an accident and keep their friends out of it. Wooyoung normally wouldn’t be this good keeping secrets, however, something in him had shifted. His boyish air had vanished almost completely, leaving his wicked jaw and sharp eyes without the warmth he once carried within him.

He walked with confidence, still. Nonetheless, every move seemed calculated, controlled. The carefree Jung Wooyoung she loved was swept by the future CEO Jung. And while she looked at Seonghwa, she wondered if he had noticed that too.

“We’re fine… We’ll probably be even better with you around now.”

“I hope so.” she grinned as the bartender handed her a glass. “Oh, thank you. Where are the lads? I want to see them. Is everyone here? Hongjoong too?”

With a sigh, he held her hand. “Listen, darling, I’ve something to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“Woo… Wooyoung came here with a girl.”

For a second, Y/N felt the air burning her lungs at the same time someone punched her stomach. Well, she supposed he wouldn’t stay single forever… However, the fact that she had to witness it three months after meeting him was too sour and pitiful. “Oh, I see.” Her voice came out crooked.

“It’s nothing serious, I’m sure. Just a date for the party.” Hwa squeezed her fingers tenderly. “You know he’s still as much in love with you as you are with him.”

But before she could react to his words, her attention laid on the man in question: dressed in a black three-piece suit, his dark long hair was slicked back, only some bangs’ locks falling off from the gel hairstyle. Y/N clenched her jaw, heart thumping so fast she was sure everyone could hear it. Luckily, there was no girl next to him, only her friends.

“Shall we go greet them?” With a haughty pose, one that differed completely from what she felt inside, she tugged at Hwa’s arm, dragging him towards their group.

In slow motion, Wooyoung watched Y/N approach him. When their eyes met, the party seemed to disappear, only the two of them in the ballroom. His fingers flexed on the Old Fashioned glass, demanding a lot of self-control as not to rush to her, hug her tight and kiss her senseless. He couldn’t do that for a thousand reasons, but the impulse was almost cruel.

He still loved her.

He was afraid he’d always love her.

“Long time no see, Wooyoung.” Her smirk was subtle, and there was a twinkle of mirth in her beautiful orbs. The playful tone was laced with politeness, but he knew her all too well.

As if they didn’t see each other a month ago in Monaco, he breathed slowly, letting his lips stretch and mimic hers. “Long time no see, Y/N.”

Straightening her back, her suave pose disappeared as a girl’s hand rolled around his forearm. Then, the jest was replaced by possessiveness, gaze darkening. Jealousy was the lousiest bitch.

“Oh, hello! I’m Lia.”

Well, at least that didn’t come accompanied by ‘His girlfriend’.

“Enchanted. I’m Y/N Choi.”

And since the girl didn’t react at the sound of her name, Y/N supposed she was rather new there. Lia was new enough to not know about her, and wouldn’t stick around enough to do so.

“I can’t believe she’s back!” Hongjoong celebrated, a huge grin on his face and open arms.

“I’m back, Joong.” She agreed, hugging him. “Back for good!”

“That’s awesome!”

“Were you living abroad?” Lia questioned, curious.

Y/N sipped on her drink, cocking her head to the side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘living’, but you could say that, yeah.” It was more like ‘suffering while trying to pretend everything was fine’.

“Why, though?” The quip came from Wooyoung. His eyes were glinting with a mix of grudge and challenge. “I thought you’ve always wanted to move abroad.”

“Where did you live? Europe? The USA?” Lia butted in.

“I spent some time between London and Monaco.”

“Oh my God! Monaco must’ve been a dream! I’ve heard there are some cute guys there, and rich too. Did you meet any? Are they really handsome?”

Y/N chuckled, feeling rather silly for being jealous of that girl. No one would dare to talk about crushes and money in front of a potential boyfriend, so that meant Lia felt nothing for Wooyoung, right? “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like… Meeting new people there.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Why meet any boy if her heart was still set on her ex? Why pretend she could replace him with another rich dude?

She couldn’t, it was pointless.

Not when Monaco screamed them. If she was Taylor Swift, ‘Cornelia Street’ would be called ‘Monte Carlo’. And like Taylor said on her lyrics, Y/N couldn’t walk around any corner of the small principality without being reminded of Jung Wooyoung.

It didn’t help that, although breaking up, they engaged in secret rendezvous more often than not… And each reunion just proved her how any other men paled in comparison to him. It was ridiculous to have an ‘affair’ with her own ex-boyfriend; she always condemned people that broke up and still kept hooking up with each other… Until it happened to her.

To be quite honest, the reason they broke up wasn’t exactly because of bad behaviour. There wasn’t cheating, nor deceiving. They didn’t fall out of love, either – in fact, Y/N was sure she loved him even more with each month apart. However, love alone wasn’t enough to calm her restless mind, and he too seemed eager for… Well, she didn’t know?! Things were just different. The weight of responsibilities and the need to make something, any difference in the world drove them apart.

Wooyoung was taking his position in his father’s business, and Y/N had no idea of what to do with her life (again). She acknowledged her timing was shitty, for he needed something concrete to hold onto while everything changed… But… She was afraid of not being good enough for him. He was becoming the Business Prince he was born to be, and she… She was just the shallow heiress with nothing important on her ‘life curriculum’ that the media thought her to be.

Then, London seemed a good escape.

It was a familiar place, offering her some comfort. Not warm and soothing like Wooyoung’s presence in her existence, but enough to keep her going.

She occupied her mind with a Master’s degree in Creative Writing, and when it was over, she had the overwhelming desire to call Wooyoung and tell him she finally did something about those 68 stories she wrote throughout her writing life.

Now, they were face to face and she didn’t know what to exactly say.

“Right…” Jongho intervened. “Big sis, we should greet some people now.”

And like smoke, Y/N disappeared from his sight for the next hour.

Ordering his third Old Fashioned, Wooyoung recognised the almond-shaped red nails, especially the black onyx ring on her middle finger.

“A Death in The Afternoon, please.” She smiled at the bartender.

“No French Connection?” He looked at her.

“Summer habits die hard.”

“I thought you preferred winter.”

“Any champagne of preference, miss?” The man asked Y/N.

“Veuve Clicquot.” They answered at the same time.

She sighed, biting a faux grin and playing with the gold band on her finger. “I see we still have some stuff in common… Does your date like signet rings?”

Wooyoung was wearing his black onyx signet ring… Y/N’s one twin.

“I’ve no idea; never asked her.” His eyes traced her neck. “No pearls?”

“Not with black satin.” She quoted Rebecca (1940), heart thumping with expectation.

“I thought it was never wearing neither one nor the other.”

Thank God he still remembered the movie!

“You can’t blame me for loving pearls and black satin, I look divine in them.” She jested, flicking her hair in a haughty way. “So, I try not to wear them together.”

Ogling her from head to toe, Wooyoung’s grin was one of a panther, although he felt his stomach tightening and the annoying dryness of his throat. “Cheers to that. You do look divine.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort in this.”

“It wasn’t needed. You look good in anything.” ‘Even better if stark naked’, but he obviously wouldn’t say that. Before he could comment on something else, his drink arrived. “Thanks, lad.” Turning to her once more, he kept grinning, although less sincerely. “So, see you around, Y/N.”

“Wait.” She called out before she could stop herself. He just raised his eyebrow, like he used to do whenever giving someone his initial attention. “I was hoping we could talk about my being back home… At some point this weekend, maybe?! Are you free?”

“I’ll be free after the party, if you want.”

“Well, don’t you have other plans with your date?”

“I don’t and you already know it.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“I couldn’t just invite you, could I?” He retorted.

Her jaw clenched, swallowing the apologise. They were in public, not the right place to discuss their relationship. “Text me when you’re ready, and we can meet up.”

“Alright.”

“See you later, then, Woo.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Wooyoung still lived in the same penthouse. It was painful sometimes, for the whole place had a bit of Y/N in it. He kept their photographs, kept the clothes she left behind, kept everything he could. It wasn’t his wisest decision, however, breaking up with her wasn’t one of them either.

And now she was back.

She was back and wanted to talk about it.

Now, way past three in the morning, he wasn’t drunk, but had the weirdest taste on his mouth – something like hope. His heart was beating heavily against his chest, and he couldn’t wait to smell her again. To touch her, kiss her, set every emotion free.

Dragging himself to the mirror of the entrance hall, he combed his hair with his fingers and smoothed out his shirt, opening two buttons just because.

At the sound of the doorbell, he took a deep breath and straightened his back.

“Well…”

The small, almost timid smile Y/N gave him was enough to make his knees wobble.

“Hi there… Uh…” She opened her arms. “Here I am.”

With a chuckle, one that made her eyes water a bit, for it resembled the Old Wooyoung so much, he let his body cage hers, holding her in a tight hug.

Wooyoung always gave the best hugs.

“Hi there, love.” His voice was slightly raspy, quite full of emotion, the nickname slipping past his tongue before he had any chance to keep it locked.

They remained there for a minute or two, feeding on each other’s presence and feeling each other’s warmth as if the sun was finally out after a fortnight-long storm.

“I’m back, Woo.” She said against his torso. “I’m back for good now.”

“And what does it mean?”

Y/N knew he wanted to hear her exact words, even though he already knew why she was there. And, because she loved him so, she didn’t have any problem laying her chest bare for him.

“It means I’m sorry I backed off when you needed support. Sorry I freaked out and thought lowly of me, and ended up hurting you… Hurting us in the process.” She put some distance between them, trying to be as honest as possible. “All this time apart proved to me that you’re my only one and I was really dumb for thinking I could ever move on from you.” She offered him a shy smile. “I wanted to be worthy of you, but I didn’t understand I could do that while being with you. My mind and insecurities blinded me, and I ran away. I hurt you deeply, and I’m so very sorry.”

Wooyoung nodded, face serious.

“You did hurt me.” He agreed. “I wondered what had happened, why you stopped loving me.”

“I didn’t.”

“This was clear by our second meeting in Monaco.” His grin was slightly off. “But it angered me that, although we kept seeing each other, you never suggested for us to get back together.”

“I still thought you deserved better.”

“Well, turns out I’m the one who gets to decide who or what is good for me, Y/N. And you were it.” He noticed how her expression dropped, probably due to the use of past tense. And Wooyoung had learned to be cruel to others, his job required him to be cold and controlled, but he could never be like that with Y/N. “And you still are, even though you hurt me.” Her beautiful eyes stared at his, hopeful. “When I saw you at the party tonight, the world slowed down. It’s no use pretending I don’t miss you and I don’t love you; we’re old enough to stop playing these games now. It was alright when you were in Europe, but now you’re back, and I’m not in the mood for halves. So, it’s either all of it, or nothing at all. It’s either starting over together, or ending everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, despite the ultimatum. “I want to start over. I want to be with you.”

“So no running away whenever things get difficult, nor making assumptions, ok?! I’m not one of giving second chances, Y/N.” He warned. “And I’m not interested in having my heart broken again. I hate being like this, hate being sceptical and cold. This isn’t me.”

Y/N nodded. “I won't let my insecurities and paranoia hurt you again.”

“You can talk to me, you know? I want to make you happy, see you happy. If things get hard, I’m more than honoured to be your safe-haven… You don’t have to move to fucking Europe to sort it out.” He rolled his eyes, sounding more like the Wooyoung he once was.

“Want me to pinkie-promise?” She stuck her pinkie out, grinning.

“God, how I’ve missed your inability to take things serious!”

“Hey! I’m mature now.”

“Nah,” He shook his head, one hand cupping her cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“I’ve been yours the whole time, and I don’t plan on running away ever again.”

“Thank God.” Wooyoung whispered against her lips, starting a searing kiss.

Y/N relished in his lips, fingers threading in his dark locks. He tasted like Old Fashioned and home; he felt like the rays of sunshine on a spring day; he smelled like the best mix of spiciness and man. She couldn’t get enough of him, and it was pointless trying to pretend so.

“Woo, I…” Her voice was breathy, conflicted.

“You…?” He frowned, brown eyes fixed on hers. “Should I stop?”

“No, don’t!” She sighed. “It’s just… I don’t know if… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” Well, they’d agreed to be back together, right? It was better getting it off her chest quickly, so he wouldn’t doubt her later on. “I love you.”

With an easy smile, one that obviously didn’t mirror the flood of emotions, Wooyoung kissed her urgently, again. She sighed against his mouth, tongue quickly searching for his before she lost her last thinking brain cell. It didn’t take more than a minute before a cheeky and feminine hand found its way down his torso, tracing with pointy nails from his belly to his crotch. Wooyoung pulled at her hair, pushing her face upwards and changing their kiss angle, then, he groped her ass, relishing on the feeling of her plump bottom and the luxurious velvet of her dress.

Y/N gasped for air, pressing sloppy kisses on his jaw and neck. She gave him small bites, sucking on his skin and mirroring how she would do on more private areas. She untucked his shirt off his trousers and fumbled with his belt, patience running thin.

Why the fuck was he wearing a belt, in the first place?!

“Don’t you dare getting on your knees now.” He warned, predicting her actions.

“Pardon?” She hesitated.

“I’ll come so fast if you give me a blowjob, we’ll lose all the fun.” There was an adorable blush on his cheeks, despite his mockery tone and bossy warning before.

Her heart tugged at the sight.

“Then we do need a new approach, for I was really hoping to choke on your cum as soon as possible.” Now it was her turn to say something obscene with flushed cheeks.

“May I choke on yours first?” He offered, a smirk growing on his lips.

“By all means.” Y/N giggled, shaking her head in agreement.

Wooyoung pushed her against the wall, eyeing her for a brief second before stealing another kiss. At every stroke of his tongue there was a silent promise; he tried to pour both love and lust in it. Then, he got on his knees, pushing her dress upwards and revealing her legs. Y/N helped him by holding on the skirts, bunching the fabric up next to her waist. She felt his hands on her feet, undoing her shoes, then they were on shins, tickling their way to her thighs until they rested on her bum, kneading at the flesh in pure hunger.

Wooyoung kissed her lower stomach, nibbling lightly at her smooth skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” He murmured against her, grip tightening.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I’ve missed you more.”

“Is this a competition?” She eyed him in defiance.

“What if it is?!”

Y/N chuckled, combing his hair out of his forehead.

“Then I won.”

“I don’t think so.” Wooyoung touched her panties, his thumb drawing small circles right on her core. He kissed her right there, his tongue swiping up and down the lace and its warmth travelling through the fabric, making her shiver. “You better hold onto my shoulders, love.”

Y/N moaned loudly, feeling her legs bend a bit and skin tingle. She quickly took her dress off and tossed it aside; getting drunk in the way Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up, hypnotised by her boobs. She rested her head against the wall with a loud thud, but pain was the last thing on her mind. Slowly, he rolled her undergarments down and launched his mouth on her, sucking and licking in lazy strokes like those that he knew would drive her insane. His touch, his kisses, his presence… She beamed in joy at the sight of him, and she would regret every second of their breakup because it was a waste of time for both of them. As for Wooyoung, he knew no other woman would compare to her; no one else fitted him as Y/N did.

She tugged at his hair, forcing her hips down to create a bit more friction. His short nails scratched her thighs, bringing her even closer. Normally, she would prefer to lay, but there was something rather wicked about that position, especially knowing that they were by the door… It didn’t matter he lived in the penthouse, she wondered if people on the other floors could listen.

His heart fluttered as she came, the most wicked and lustful moan of his name coming from her lips. Y/N felt gooey, her legs begging for buckling down and resting anywhere… Preferable on a bed… However, Wooyoung seemed to have other plans.

Tugging her by the hand, he brought her to the nearest chair in his living room and sat down with her nestled on his lap. He kissed her jaw, delicately biting at the flesh.

“Ride my thigh, love.” He murmured against her chin. It sounded like a suggestion, but Y/N understood the meaning: an order.

“While you’re wearing trousers?”

“Mm-hm.” He shook his head in agreement, finger pads pinching one of her nipples.

“Won’t it stain?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flew back to hers, a mockery gleam fighting its way beyond the lust.

“Are you trying to gain yourself some minutes?”

Busted.

Ugh, how she hated him for knowing her so well!

“I’m just thinking about how embarrassing it’ll be for those doing your laundry.”

“I’ll do it instead.”

“You? Doing the laundry?!” Y/N grinned in pure jest. “Jung Wooyoung, part-time millionaire and part-time CEO, doing housework?!”

“Full-time millionaire and full-time love of your life, as decided minutes ago.”

“What an amazing career.”

“You just gotta focus on what you do best.” He shrugged, putting on a serious expression though his voice was soft, cheerful even.

“Well, God help me, for you do that perfectly.”

Y/N kissed him, shivering when his arms rounded her waist to pull her closer to his crotch.

“Ride my thigh, Y/N.” Wooyoung said again.

Her eyes flew shut after listening to her name falling from his lips. Promptly, she moved, straddling his leg and rocking her hips against his pants. One of Wooyoung’s hands groped on her ass while the other went up, scratching her ribs on the way to her boobs. His head dipped down, tongue darting around the bud, licking and sucking it as he felt her body tensing.

“It’s too much.” She moaned.

He paid her no mind, keeping the assault until she started trembling.

“Can’t you take it?” He rasped against her collarbones. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Y/N gulped, mouth dry and heart beating so fast she was sure Wooyoung could hear it. She was also sure he knew she would do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making her feel good, so she just went back on grinding on his thigh without answering directly to his question. Besides, words escaped her as her second orgasm approached.

“Fuck, love, you’re fascinating.” it came out breathy, Wooyoung’s teeth sinking onto her shoulder. He felt the spot next to his knee wet, noticed her hips losing strength speed.

It was the second bite that undid her truly. She shook, nails leaving red lines on his backs and arms tightening around his neck, bringing him even closer. Then she collapsed against him, panting. Wooyoung peppered kisses around her jaw, smoothing her hair and praising her for being the best of girls, for obeying him and cumming again.

“Wooyoung,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve made a mess of your trousers.”

“It’s ok, love. We’ll take it off.” He smiled softly. “Are your legs working?”

“Barely, but I can try to stand up.”

“No, no, no. I’ll just put you...” He murmured while pushing her to the side and standing up himself, leaving her on the chair. “See? I’ll take it off.”

“Oh, no, wait!” Y/N slapped his hand. “Let me do this.”

Fuck, he could cum on the spot. She really was at his house, the living room’s dim light casting over her while she fumbled with his trousers, and it downed on Wooyoung that she was back.

And she still loved him.

And they were together again.

“Here, sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.” She gestured, getting on her feet too.

Oh, damn, he knew where that was going.

“What did I tell you about getting on your knees?”

“You choked on my cum already, now it’s my turn. Be fair!” Y/N pouted.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, God, the things I wanna do to you.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip. Soon, he forced it in, attentively staring at her mouth while she sucked it inside, cheeks hollowing. “Please, if you could do the same to my dick, I would…”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” Y/N chuckled, bringing his hand to full view and tracing her tongue on the tip of his finger. His chestnut eyes were a shade darker, pupils blown open.

“All mine, I guarantee.”

But before she could dive in, a familiar ringtone erupted from the floor, his trousers vibrating at the rhythm. It startled them, though Y/N’s reaction was only a small grin whereas Wooyoung’s was an annoyed grunt, cussing in a low voice.

“Maybe you should pick it up?”

“Absolutely not.” He refused to move and spoil the moment. His dick was hard, he finally had her back and between his legs (ready to suck the soul out of him)… He waited more than a fucking year for that, whoever called could damn wait too.

“What if it’s important?”

“There’s nothing more important than your pretty mouth around my cock, love.”

“But…”

“On your knees, darling.”

She gulped, slightly annoyed by the fact he could change the mood with only one phrase. It never failed to surprise how much effect he had on her.

Trying not to let his temper rise, Y/N went back between his legs. She caressed his thighs, nails trailing them slightly. Then, she went up, unbuttoning his shirt while he glanced at her with a hunger in his eyes. She pushed off his shirt, being awarded with the sight of his tattoo. Hands palming his torso, she mapped his skin, tracing the Latin phrase, wanting nothing more than to eat him open. She licked her lips, heart thumping loudly against her ribcage.

“Why are you staring?” He wondered. “Do I look too tempting?” He jested.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “Delicious as fuck and all mine.”

“I like how it sounds.” Wooyoung dipped his head down, pecking her lips. “And you’re all mine.”

“Always have been.” She agreed.

His stomach churned at the gleam of lust in her beautiful eyes. “Suck.”

The order came out simple and serious, a bit like the new Wooyoung he was.

Y/N’s hands found purchase on his thighs, the very ones she rode a while ago. Well, she was already in the rain… Let it all get wet.

Literally.

She gathered some saliva, palming his dick and spitting right on its head. Wooyoung breathed audibly, chest rising in a lungful expanse. Y/N moved her hand on him, spreading her spit and hearing his quiet moan. With a grin, she closed her eyes and sank down on his shaft, tongue circling the tip and tasting the salty pre-cum.

“Fuck.” He groaned.

She wasn’t that good with having dicks on her throat, always gagging and getting teary eyed, but this time she wanted to surprise him. She wanted to make him feel as marvellous as she felt during her two orgasms. Hence, she watched her breathing and swallowed him deeper. Wooyoung said something through gritted teeth, a hand flying to her hair and holding her head in place. Y/N hollowed her cheeks, bobbing up and down for a brief minute, forcing the movement against Wooyoung’s command. His hips bucked, making his cock hit her throat and she feel the burn in her eyes, tears coming almost automatically.

“Fuck, love, you’re gonna…”

He was cut mid-sentence by her gaze and thought he would explode. If there was anything hotter than her sucking him off and his cock was gagging her… Wooyoung didn’t really want to know. He honestly wouldn’t survive it.

Y/N repeated the motion, then she backed off with a gasp, drooling all over him. His hands were shaking, making him slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t stop even if I gag.” She ordered.

“Ugh, the things I wanna do to you, darling…”

“It’ll have to wait a bit.” She kept her fingers busy, caressing him while she took a breath.

Then, Wooyoung watched, mesmerised, Y/N’s wickedness take control: she turned her attention to his balls, licking it up and nibbling at the sensitive skin like he used to do with her clit. Words escaped him, so all he did was let out a raspy moan, tightening his grip on her hair.

Her tongue swirled around his shaft and she swallowed him again, tilting her head slightly so he could start fucking her mouth. He caught on her idea and adjusted his position, moving his hips smoothly, testing the angle. Y/N gagged once again, because that way he hit a spot too close to her throat, and although it was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t be hornier. Just tasting him and hearing him moan, knowing it was her own doing… It made her all wet and desperate. Glancing up, she locked eyes with Wooyoung – he looked hypnotised, almost drunk on the scene… On her.

It was all so erotic, so lustful, so right. He couldn’t tear his gaze as his dick disappeared on her plump lips, accepting all of him in as if she was born to suck him off, as if she was starving for it.

“Can I cum in your mouth, love?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside. “Or should I cum in your pussy?”

She whimpered, doing her best to shake her head positively, nails clawing at his thighs for support. Her knees were starting to hurt, legs sore and quite numb, but she really wanted to taste him before they properly fucked.

At her consent, Wooyoung’s mind clouded, Y/N being the only thought echoing. He shivered, the orgasm hitting so strong his belly clenched and his toes curled; he spilled inside her mouth, a deep, sexy groan erupting from his own.

Y/N swallowed and wiped her mouth, climbing his legs and sitting on his lap. She caressed his face, drawing all of his angles and mapping them on her mind once again.

“I love you.” She whispered next to his ear. “And I intend to make it up to you every day.”

“You’re a fucking minx.” Wooyoung murmured, a small smile reaching his mouth.

“Full-time minx?” She joked.

“Yeah. And full-time love of my life, so don’t fret.”

“Good.” Y/N stole a peck. “Good.”

They kissed in a lazy, tooth-aching romantic dance. He could taste himself on her tongue, and it was addictive, making him want to ravish her on the spot.

Then, after catching some breath and regaining more strength, Wooyoung hooked his arms around her legs and stood up, grinning at her wide eyes and high-pitched yelp.

“Hold tight, love. We’re going to the couch.”

“You should’ve said that before.” She giggled.

Wooyoung moved as if he was used to carry her all the time. Laying her down, he hovered over her, kissing her once more. This time, it was sloppy, teeth clashing as they touched each other all over – Y/N’s sharp nails digging at his back, leaving red lines on its length, while he groped at her thighs and ass, letting her wet pussy grind against his stomach and hips. She moaned, breaking the kiss and bending her head backwards when she felt his touch creeping down, stopping right at her core. Wooyoung didn’t mind it, kissing her neck instead, and plunging two fingers inside her, moving them slowly.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N cursed. “Please, Woo, please.”

“What are you begging for, love?” He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mirth and lust, heart beating a bit too fast at her desperation, at the fact that she was his again.

“You.” Her teeth tucked his bottom lip at the same time she tugged at his hair, her pupils blown wide, hungry and desperate for anything he could give her. “Always for you.”

“But I’m already yours, Y/N.”

“But I want more. I want everything, Woo.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.” Setting his fingers free, it was time to fuck her properly.

He thrusted, finally linking their bodies. She hugged him, nails digging onto his back and leaving crescent marks; her legs pulled him even closer. His cock twitched, being devoured by her tight cunt. Wooyoung couldn’t even control his own muscles, so eager for his own release and to make Y/N feel good, like she deserved after repenting.

They were so focused on each other that every movement felt calculated, synchronised. Where she went, he followed, and vice-versa. His belly tensed up when one of her hands held his ass, groping at it while she let out a low, sexy laugh.

“You fucking minx.”

“It’s mine to touch,” She pouted, bathed in feminine power. “All mine.”

Something switched in his demeanour and Y/N gasped in surprise as he pulled her arms up, a strong hand blocking them from moving.

“Well, you’re all mine too. Mine to touch,” He brought another hand up, fingers intertwining with hers. “Mine to kiss,” A hungry, wet kiss stolen. “Mine to please,” His pace quickened, cock throbbing while she clenched around it. “Mine to…”

Love.

He growled, combusting in emotions. Y/N seemed to understand, because her eyes shone in a warm, romantic gleam. She got teary, pleasure so unbearable, so suffocating her body couldn’t take it anymore. She was still sensitive from the other orgasm, which made this one stronger, more devastating. Gripping at Wooyoung’s hands, she found in him her safe-haven.

Feeling her clenching around him just made his dick harder, and he was surprised at the fact… Normally he had to rest a bit before he went from one orgasm to another. Sitting up, Wooyoung hugged her by the waist, bringing her body closer, letting her nipples grind against his torso as she rocked against him in a steady speed. Bouncing, Y/N created enough friction and Wooyoung moved to match her speed, their muffled moans paired up with their hips colliding were the only noises echoing in the room.

They kissed again, messily and hungrily. She held him with such strength, anchoring on him as if her life depended on that. It was intense and raw, her body subconsciously trying to conquer his, claim his as hers… Although she didn’t need that anymore. He wouldn’t belong to anyone else… He didn’t want to. It was Y/N from the beginning.

“I’ll probably leave some red marks on your shoulders…”

“It’s ok.” He kissed her jaw, muffling another moan.

At each sharp and fast thrust, at each moan and kiss, they got further lost on each other. His dick twitched in earnest, feeling her so snug and wet around him. Y/N trembled at the breath denial, causing her stomach to tighten in delight. Wooyoung felt his body giving up and cursed low, unable to hold back anymore.

“Love…” He rasped. “Are you with me?”

Her teary eyes were enough answer. Wooyoung wanted to say a couple dirty things, however, the grip she had on his cock robbed him his sanity, so he just plunged on her violently, guiding both of them to the climax. Y/N shook from head to toe, moaning his name like a prayer and squeezing him like she had claws. He bit on her shoulder again because he knew she loved that. His fingers dug into her skin, also leaving marks.

The only noises were their panting. He rested his face against her neck, giving it small bites and kisses. Playing with his dark, long locks, Y/N sighed in contempt. How could she think it was possible to be happy without him when she was only happy with him, because of him?!

“Why?” She heard his muffled voice.

“What?”

“Why are you sighing?” He moved slightly, so they could look at each other.

“Just because.”

“Perhaps because you’re in your favourite place in the world with your favourite person?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “God, you’re so conceited!” Slightly tugging at his hair, she shook his head a bit. “My favourite place is Monaco.”

“This still makes me your favourite person.” He grinned.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Playfully rolling her eyes, she pouted.

“I’m not tired at all. I suggest we grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and celebrate a bit more, hm?”

“Will you help me remove my make-up first?”

“Of course, it’s classic Y/N-Wooyoung behaviour.”

She smiled, knowing that everything would be alright again.

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung smut

134 notes · View notes

berrieluv · 2 years

Note

YOU ASKED LOL. Smutty request for bucky x female reader.

You let it slip that you’re looking forward to trying to have his baby some day soon. It ignites a good old fashioned 1940s FIRE inside of him. (Breeding kink, pregnancy, conception, INTENSE p in v, etc.) Reader has a kink for bucky then eating himself out of her. 😅

the good old-fashioned way.

thank you sooo much for requesting, it means a lot to me, hope i make justice to your ask and you like this <3

bucky barnes x cis fem!reader tw. breeding kink, lactation kink, penetrative sex, cream pie, oral (female receiving), squirt, talks of children, mention of reader having big boobs, unprotected sex, dirty talk, let me know if i miss anything.

It was an intimate dinner, just friends, almost family were sitting around the big table on the Stark Tower, you had no intention on saying something like that, not when you knew Bucky was just adapting to life and a drastic change like that could impact – not necessarily in a bad way but you knew the probabilities of being in a good one were little – too hard on him.

"Well I would like it anyways" You said, nonchalantly, eating another portion of the fancy dinner the Stark household had prepare. Everyone turn their gazes to you and you just shrug,

Pepper smirked, she liked your comment, she thought Morgan needed friends, and the compound was in need of another kid. Steve looked at Bucky worriedly, the brunette just staring at you with his big blue eyes; "Yeah, like, I wouldn't mind the mess, honestly. It could drain me I have it in mind but I would love to have James' babies"

It did it for him. His uncomfortable sitting made Steve feel bad for him, it took him by surprise, and he knew Bucky wanted to give you everything you could ever want, no matter if he had to go to the ends of the world. But Steve knew (thought) he wasn't ready for kids.

He looks at you, pleading with his eyes to stop talking, he didn't want his best friend shifting uncomfortable the rest of the lovely night.

You just ignore Steve's pleads, truth to be told, you can't say you're overfond of him. Maybe it was the obsessive mania he had of interfering on yours and Bucky's marriage, but you never listened to you and you weren't planning on starting anytime soon.

Bucky took a deep breath, not because he was uncomfortable but because he was hard. He was so fucking horny it was crazy, he knows he loses all his senses when it comes to you, he knows it's not a surprise for his body to react with a boner around you.

But this. God. This felt fucking different for him. It was an intense feeling, an animalistic desire, the carnation of his most deepest dreams, his biggest wish just catching form in front of him, and he can do anything but stare at you, throwing your big family dreams around as if it was nothing. Unaware of the effects it has on him.

And he could only respond with a boner, painfully trying to scape his trousers.

"Having kids would be amazing, like, I can picture myself pregnant, I think I'll look really hot" You smile, knowing it would make Steve fucking mad, not even thinking about Bucky and his painful boner "Like, I wouldn't use any of those ugly maternity clothes, totally not my style" You smile and look at Bucky with what he thinks it's the prettiest and cutest smile he has seen in his life "... right, Jamie?"

He swallows the bulge in his throat, he thought it wasn't fair. The sweet way you were looking at him, a dreaming smile, completely focus on your future as a family and not in how he'll fucking fill you up with his cum.

"S-sorry, love?"

Steve murmurs a tiny 'Stop it', you can see his lips while anyone else can't. "I'll look hot pregnant, don't you think?"

He opens his eyes, big wide open blue eyes staring deeply at your soul, not worrying or panic a bit but trying to have a look at your face, trying to remember how it looks when you orgasm thanks to him.

"Yeah, yeah, you'll look really pretty, darling"

You smile, happy. You defeated Steve, won everyone's respect on the table for having such a soldier as James Buchanan Barnes eating from the palm of your hand, and you had Bucky blushing.

You drive back home, Bucky never liked to do it and you can't ask him to, you enjoyed anyways, and you were pretty sure that if you get tired, you could always ask him. After all, he would never say no to you.

"Bucks..." You start, looking quickly at him and smiling when you feel his eyes glued in you, his body slightly turned to look directly at you. "about what I said tonight, umm, sorry if I crossed some boundaries. Like, I know we should've talk it first before I let it out in front of any of our friends, but it just slipped out. The first time;" You chuckle "The rest of the conversation was totally on purpose"

Bucky felt his jeans tightening again. It took him around forty five minutes in the bathroom and a mix of disgusting thoughts to get rid of it. But then he remembered everything.

'I think I'll look hot pregnant', and his mind did wonders trying to get the picture. Your breasts big and heavy, a few drops of milk seeping out of your nipples and your big, round belly.

You eyed him when the silence lasted too long, worried that he could've feel really uncomfortable by it, but the first thing you notice is his crotch.

"Oh, God, Bucky" You say, half amused, half surprised "Are you turned on by this?"

You park on your department building parking lot and turn to look at him. You smirk at him, looking how shy and embarrassed his face looks.

"Oh, baby. Was I making you horny? I'm so sorry, Bucks. No problem, we can take care of it, wanna do it, Buck? Wanna be my baby daddy? I'm sure you want me to have all of your babies, love. And fuck I'm so fucking ready for it"

You start, moving his seat to have more access and sitting on top of him, moving your hips causing a friction on his dick.

"I can't wait to be all pregnant with your baby, Bucky. All round and big for you. Imagine me being your useless little house-wife, would you like it, babe?" He nods, closing his eyes.

"Fuck, yes, yes, baby" He answers between moans "I want you waiting for me at home. Expecting me to do something because you can't do shit by yourself, fuuuck, all because how pregnant you are"

"Bucky let's go home, mhm? Please, please, fuck me properly. I want all your cum inside me, don't let me waste any drop of it"

"Doll, you ask too much of me and I'm just a man" He answers, only to then correct himself "Fuck, no, I'm a super soldier, baby. God, you're so lucky, aren't you? You have a fucking super soldier all for yourself, who would fuck you until you're screaming for me to stop"

One thing you loved about Bucky is that he always keeps his promises. You've been married for about two years now, and never, not even while dating, he has break a promise. And he proved you he doesn't intend to start with this one.

Bucky lays you down on the bed, he knows it's your favorite place, even though you've try on many surfaces, he knows you, and he knows you feel better there.

He puts your knees as close to your head as he can, caressing your thighs and lifting up your tight dress, he palms your cunt covered by your panties and he pulls them aside, teasing you with his fingers, getting you wetter and ready for him, he wanted to slip in and out of you like in a water slide.

You moan, quietly, softer. Bucky likes it when you sound like this, so calm and relaxed by his fingers, as if sex with him was some kind of nervous medication. You take his hand as he fingers you faster, your wetness coming out of your pussy and your moans intensifying. You move your legs, trying to close them, crushing his forearms while your hands try to grab the sheets. He can see your cum dripping down your pussy and he feels jealous for a moment, completely desperate to replace it with his.

He doesn't wait for you to ask him, the look in your eyes is more than enough. He moans when his hand touches his hard cock, he puts it aligned to you and as fast as he's in, he starts to move his hips back and forwards. Normally, he'll start slow. He'll wait for you to adjust to him, but he couldn't. Not today at least, the images of you pregnant repeating in his mind, completely ready to take that out of his imagination and make it real.

For him, your moans intertwining with his are music for his ears, he thrusts deeper and slowly into you only to start to move faster again. His cock is too big for you and that's something you've been knowing.

Bucky's balls are hitting your skin and you start to moan louder, a high pitched voice this time and; fuck.

"Sweets" He calls between moans while his thrusts went deeper into you, completely smashing his balls against you. He can tell your dripping, and you know it too because you're feeling it. He can't go slower. Not when you're moaning like this. At the feeling of something like water hitting his cock when he gets it outside of your cunt, he looks at you, completely enamored "Did you just squirted?"

It was intense, the whole sheets were now wet, you look at him with doe eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed; "I'm sorry, Bucks"

"No, no, baby. None of that. That was. Fucking. Hot"

He says, not wasting time to being thrusting into you again, his thighs completely covered by your squirt.

"Doll, you're so fucking needy. I can feel how much your pretty pussy needs me right now, she's begging for me to fill her up, make you all heavily pregnant with my babies"

You look at him, your eyes completely shining and he's about to stop everything to kiss you right there, looking all cute and innocent, until your slutty moan caught his attention. He smiles and keeps his movements, feeling his cum finally finding its way into your pussy.

"Feel that, doll? Your cunt feels warm now with my cum? Take it all, baby. I promise you I'm getting you pregnant, fuck, fuck, you're gonna be such a beautiful wife. Can't wait to see you all dolled up for me, your maternity dresses allowing me to see your, fuck, your cute round belly. God, fuck, fuck, doll, just imagine, aaah, imagine your breasts, baby, they're big enough for me now, just imagine them full of milk"

"Please, please, Bucky"

"Please what, doll?" He laughs "I already cum inside. You want more? Your wifey whore cunt wants more?"

"Yes, yes, please, Bucky. Pleaseee"

"Only because you ask so nice"

He says, putting his dick inside of you again and moving his hips, thrusting into you. He goes faster every time you ask him to because how could he deny you of anything. His cum is already dripping all the way to your back, it's wonderful sometimes how Bucky doesn't care at all for your underwear, if it was for him, there would be nothing protecting you under your regular clothes.

"I'm coming again, princess. You think your pretty, little pussy can take it? Take me two times, baby? Yeah? Yeah, let's see that. Let's see how much of a super soldier you can take love. Don't waist a single drop, got it? I'll fucking punish you if you do"

"Buckyyyy" You whine and he looks at you.

"Doll, I already gave it to you two times. You know I can't go more"

"Wan' more, Bucky. Please, please, for me?"

Bucky sighs, you know and he knows he's obliged to do anything when you say the worlds 'for me', because he would never forgive himself to let something slip if it's for you.

So he starts again, his movements are sloppier and low, he's sensitive and he knows you are two, the sound of his cock pushing his cum into your pussy gets louder with every movement, and fuck your moans, Bucky could heard them for years and never get tired of them.

Bucky pulls out of you and he sees the cum dripping from your pussy and he lowers his face to have it on your pussy, his amused eyes looking at the thick white track of cum gets out of it.

"I'mma clean you up, doll. How does that sounds"

You nod, tired, just trying to catch your breath and relax, being interrupted by the moan that scapes your lips when Bucky licks your pussy. He passes his tongue around it, moving it skillfully, yeah, this is not the first time he eats you out. But it's definitely the first time he does it while his cum is dripping from you.

He kisses your cunt, playing with it and causing your moans to never end.

"No more, Bucky, please" You say, crying at the overstimulation "No more, Bucks"

"But, doll, you were the one being times before? You don't want it now? Your pussy wants it"

"No more, Bucky. Tired, please, just want to sleep"

But he doesn't listens, how could he when your moans were telling him another thing, when your cunt was getting wetter by his tongue he could almost drown. He keeps playing until you finally cum, a gutural moan escaping your lips and he knows you're exhausted when you let your head fall into the pillows, not feeling like holding it anymore.

"You did so good, babydoll. What about a shower?"

"Wanna sleep, Bucky"

"But I have to treat you right. Can't send my baby mommy to sleep this wet, can I?"

You shake your head with a pout and if it wasn't because he knows you can't take more, he would've fuck you right there.

"If I keep fucking you like this, I think we'll get pregnant by the end of the week"

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns x you #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut

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ineffablebookgirl · 2 years

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I noticed something on a rewatch about the arc of Aziraphale's coat. When it gets hit by that paintball, he says, "I've kept this in tip-top condition for over 180 years."

So, since 1839. 20-odd years before the fight / breakup in St. James's Park, which is the earliest we see it.

But wait, I says to myself, he wasn't wearing that coat in the 1940s Blitz scene in the church. He wears a different outer coat in that scene, one that looks new, made of a material that's stiffer and slightly shiny.

[Of course, one typically wears nicer and more uncomfortable clothes to one's wedding, and Crowley also looks very sharp and more buttoned-up than his typical look in this scene, but that's neither here nor there.]

After that, after Aziraphale realizes Crowley still cares for him despite their fight, and realizes he loves Crowley too, he switches back to the 1800s coat for good. When he appears in the Bentley in the 60s, he's back in the old coat, and he wears it every scene after that. [He does have that other gray cardigan-like jacket, but that's for relaxing in the bookshop only.]

In that argument in the park, he feels such a strong need to push Crowley away, for Crowley's own protection. (Every other resistance to collaboration, from the Globe onward, his argument is that *Crowley* would be in danger if they were found out; only in the park fight does he argue that *he* might be in danger. He's saying to Crowley that they need distance to protect him, Aziraphale, because even in his agitation he knows that Crowley's #1 motivator is protecting Aziraphale). Maybe after that, he tries to move on, switch to a modern new coat. And maybe Crowley coming for him again in the church lets him know it's okay to be himself again, to go as slow as he needs to, because Crowley will always come back for him.

~~~

AND ANOTHER THING

has to do with lapels.

Aziraphale's Blitz coat looks much more similar to the jackets worn by the other angels. Take a look at Michael and Uriel's jackets here. They are stiff and have that sheen to them, and the lapels point up.

Like Aziraphale's Blitz jacket.

Compare that to the lapels on his trusty old coat. This coat is soft, just like Az. And the lapels point down.

Okay, okay, so what about demons? We know they deliberately did the miracle gestures with Aziraphale's snap pulling something down from Heaven and Crowley's pulling something up from Hell. If the angels have upward-pointing lapels, it would make sense for demons to have downward-pointing lapels, if my theory is going to hold.

Yup, that checks out. Hastur and Ligur have floppy sad ugly lapels that droop down toward Hell.

So, the final piece to this puzzle.... how about Crowley's lapels?

Outrageously spiky upwards-pointing lapels. Because of course. I rest my case.

~~~

[Okay, a couple of caveats. (1) I'm not an expert on fashion or clothes, so I welcome corrections and additions. (2) It's possible that Az's soft, favorite jacket is a summer jacket and the stiffer one he wears in the Blitz is a winter jacket. Not clear what season it is in that scene. (3) Stay tuned for a follow-up post about Gabriel and Beelzebub's lapels. (4) Also, I haven't compared any of the other outfits throughout history, and I only looked at Crowley's 2019 jacket. (5) Sorry if the gifs are weird, I don't really know what I'm doing. (6) Also sorry if this has already been discussed; I try to only post stuff that I haven't seen elsewhere, but I know I'm late to this party!]

#good omens #good omens meta #the symbolic resonance of lapels #costume design #heaven and hell #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #long post #meta

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epilary · 2 months

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dating james 'bucky' barnes | headcanons

masterlist | requests are open

- you'd meet after the blip - you opening a coffee shop near his place - he'd order the same coffee every day - even asking which pastry you'd recommend - for a bit of a change, he'd use the name james - 'james, hear me out, coffee cake today' [you] - 'coffee cake it is then' [bucky] - every time he'd enter the store, your heart would quicken a little - finally he asked you to dinner - figuring that coffee would be a little ridiculous - bucky would take you for a picnic - he always acted a little old fashioned - a spread of crackers and cheese were his first choices - ‘like a charcuterie board?’ [you] - ‘no, i don’t have any cured meat here’ [bucky] - you LOVE it - i mean and he’s such a gentleman while you’re first going on dates - pulling out your seat, opening the door, waiting until the second date for a goodnight kiss - at this point he’d show you his metal prosthetic - bucky realized that your reaction was exactly what he needed in his life - ‘you can always talk to me, you know that, right?’ [you] - ‘thanks for understanding darling’ [bucky] - once he asks you to be his partner, it’s like he’s proposing - the whole nine yards - 1940s music, flowers - during the relationship you learn a lot more about him - his past and his friends - it was tough for you to take in - but how he acts around you can’t stop you from falling for him - he’s such a romantic - sending flowers to your shop regularly - you’d take time out of your day to talk to him when he picks up his coffee - meeting sam is such a great experience - him calling james ‘bucky’ - telling you stories about them fixing his sister’s boat - how he’d never see anyone make bucky so happy - which bucky happily shows you through sloppy kisses

#marvel #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #marvel headcanons #james bucky barnes x reader #headcanons

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oldshowbiz · 2 months

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To the public Red Skelton was the God and country comedian. He recorded a best-selling version of the Pledge of Allegiance and told reporters that he read the bible every night before going to bed. His friends and colleagues say it was just an act to ingratiate himself to the public.

Television producer George Schlatter worked on The Judy Garland Show at CBS Television City, just one soundstage over from The Red Skelton Show. Schlatter says, “Red Skelton was a phony with all his God bullshit. He ended every show saying, ‘God Bless.’ Then you realize that his dress rehearsal was the filthiest event in town. They did the dirtiest dress rehearsal and then he would go on and do this, ‘God Bless,’ and the country and the flag and all this shit. He was a dirty old man.”

According to the FBI, Skelton possessed one of the largest collections of pornography in Hollywood. A Bureau memo from the 1940s said that “during the course of an investigation of a purported ring of obscene motion picture operators in Hollywood, information was received that the best known customers for obscene film in Hollywood were Red Skelton, Lou Costello, and George Raft.”

The contradiction between his public front and his personal life was the stuff of tabloid legend.

“Red’s constant drinking when he had his CBS radio show was the whisper of the microphone colony,” reported the trashy magazine Confidential. “Often his hands would be shaking so badly he could hardly get into his clothes to begin the show.” The tabloid claimed Skelton regularly “terrifies wife and kids with loaded pistols.”

Skelton was often criticized for laughing at his own jokes or breaking up in the middle of a scene. It was an ancient stage trick. Skelton knew that if you lost it on camera, it often made the audience laugh harder. It was a gimmick despised by fellow comedians who saw right through it.

“Dreadful,” said Stan Laurel of Laurel and Hardy fame. “Just dreadful. I love his talent but I hate … when he does that deliberate and undeliberate breaking up. In my opinion this is the worst possible thing any comedian can do – the worst. And he even lets some of his untalented guests do it. Dreadful.”

Many viewers felt the same. Patty Valentine of Cincinnati wrote, “There is only one person laughing at him and that is himself. He thinks he is funny but no one else does.”

By 1964 the program hadn’t changed much since its first episode back in 1950. The show got strong ratings, but the demographics were far too old for the sponsor’s liking. In an attempt to court the youth market, Van Bernard Productions, Skelton’s production company, negotiated an exclusive deal with Sir Lew Grade in the UK to provide British Invasion rock groups for the show. Changing its name to The Red Skelton Hour, the program presented The Kinks singing “Got Love If You Want It,” Manfred Mann doing “Do Wah Diddy Diddy,” The Hollies performing “Look Through Any Window,” and The Animals playing “We Gotta Get Out of This Place.”

Skelton introduced many British Invasion groups to Middle America for the very first time. But he promised his elderly demographic that he didn’t fully approve, always cracking jokes about their hair and fashion sense.

#red skelton

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justastrugglinghotchocolate · 3 months

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If Dorian is a swan, Henry Wotton is a peacock. He wears a sack coat; this coat would have just begun to grow popular in the early 1890s. The coat Henry wears over his shoulders is called an opera coat—I used an article from Vogue 1892 as reference. When it comes to fashion Henry is ahead of everyone—sometimes even being the one to set trends. Fashion is both a pleasure and tool for Henry and he uses them in every way he can, from genuinely expressing himself to creating pretentious outrage (yall just wait for when I get Henry in the Rudi Gernreich bathing suit!)

Henry’s status as a middle child (2 of 5) contributes to his desperation for attention. He loves being the center of attention—this man does not have a shy bone in his body. Because of this, he is the only one of the trio to consistently use color in his outfits, often accenting in golds or silvers.

Even the frame of his glasses (he is nearsighted and not happy about it) are plated in gold, catching in the light, because attention, like his glasses, is a necessity in his life. Henry also wears a cravat as a nod to Beau Brummel—the original dandy. My Henry idolizes Beau Brummel which is my excuse for not giving him facial hair; it’s just a dandy thing.

Henry’s hair, unlike Basil’s, loosely hangs around, only styled so it doesn’t catch on fire from his cigarettes. My version of Henry was directly inspired by Basil to have longer hair back when they were in Oxford. Until he met Basil, he hadn’t realized he was allowed to just have long hair. This realization was accompanied with further desire to break away from Victorian norms in the most flamboyant (but not openly illegal) way he could.

A lot of decisions that Henry makes are a result of something he fancied in Basil/something Basil did for him. In the Modern Reimaging AU, Henry lives to be 75, dying in 1940. But even when he was mostly with Dorian or living as an old ass man, Henry kept his hair long, never quite able to forget Basil.

Fun story: My friend and I were talking about cigarettes, so I showed them this page and they said they “no longer like cigarettes because that dude made them too pretentious.” Honestly iconic of them.

#the picture of dorian gray #henry wotton #tlg #tpodg #my art #art #vogue and harper's bazaar has saved my ass so many times #shoutout to them and the 1892 December Issue #expect more outrageous henry content #i'd tag beau brummel but I don't want to bring him into this XD

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assortedseaglass · 1 year

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The Seamstress & The Sailor - Chapter Twelve

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Language, World on Fire spoilers

Word Count: 3.4K

Notes: Just a little chapter as the next one is gonna be a hefty mamma.

May 1940

Bess woke up before her alarm and withdrew the blackouts from her windows. Had she her own way, the blackouts would never be up and each morning she’d rise with the sun. Laundry was strung between the windows of the old mills, and she could see Mrs Russo wrestling with some bedsheets. 7 o’clock. The warmth of spring had finally settled, and Bess took her morning cup of tea by the kitchen window, letting open the sash and welcoming the fresh air.

Despite the war, and her part in it, Bess’ life in Manchester was small and she welcomed it. She glanced around her little flat. The tiny kitchenette with its table at the centre, the adjoining bedroom and en suite; a toilet, sitting bath and sink. The metal frame of the small double bed was tied with silk scarves and she had used tape to put up pictures. Cut outs from magazines mostly, but a few photographs. The bedside table was adorned with a lamp she found in a skip, a few books from home, and Tom’s photograph. She’d read a feature in one of her fashion magazines about bohemian apartments in Paris and had attempted to decorate the old flat in its likeness. Bess thought on how many of those beautiful Parisian buildings may be just rubble now and suddenly felt thankful for her peeling wallpaper and cold floors.

While her bacon and eggs cooked on the hob, she reread Tom’s last letter. It had sat on the kitchen table for two weeks, awaiting a reply. Torn between delight and anger, Bess had no idea what to say.

“I could easily understand if you never wanted to talk to me again, but this? These horrible half-given accounts of your day with no substance? I want to know you, Bess”

She remembered how frustrated she got when all Tom sent was tales of shore leave and crass attempts at humour. Really, he deserved more from her. She may not have been his girl, but she was his friend.

“Queenie Warren doesn’t deserve your cruelty just because she likes the company of men”

Never did she think she’d be scolded by Tom. Not when he was so right. Queenie had faults, certainly. Many. She was an obnoxious, selfish gossip. But enjoying men was not one of them. If Bess had the daring and the patience, perhaps she would enjoy them as much as Queenie.

“Please believe me. She asked me about the battle at the dance and it really was just one letter”

Did she believe him? She thought of all the times they had laughed at Queenie, of how many times she had annoyed him. But Tom was all about his reputation. It wouldn’t be the first lie he’d told her, nor would she be the last secret he kept. He’d apologised, yes, but it wasn’t enough for the heartbreak left in his wake. Once upon a time he was her defender, and with supposedly one letter, he had undone Bess’ years of overcoming her insecurities and doubts.

“I loved seeing myself through your eyes”

She resolved to tell him more, and tell Douglas too; his son needed to know he was loved.

“And if anything happened to me out here, I thought it would be easier for you if no-one knew”

Had Bess ever really considered what would happen if he didn’t come home? A violent shiver rocked her body. In the months before the war, Tom Bennett had become her primary source of comfort and joy. Could she content herself to a life looking after an alcoholic father and making clothes for people who scarcely knew her name? A life without Tom?

“I miss you”

Bess kissed the place he had signed his name and tucked the letter into her purse. She would reply that night.

An hour later, Bess stepped through the main doors of Manchester Royal Infirmary with Helen and Joan, her fellow trainees from Carver Mills. Helen was a posh girl a year or two older than Bess. When women were conscripted for war work, she had come to the Infirmary. This was her first job. Joan was from Bolton and had a similar upbringing to Bess. Both were bright, kind women of the world. They enjoyed Bess’ quiet assuredness and never wanted more from her and, in turn, Bess wanted to give them everything. Together, they formed a found family.

Their morning was spent practicing their stitches. Watch one, do one, teach one, as the saying goes. Bess, naturally, was best. Her nimble fingers made quick and neat work of wounds, and she left early to attend to soldiers whose eyes had been damaged by gas. When Helen and Joan finished their lessons with the matron, they met Bess in the canteen.

“Stern by name, stern by nature,” Joan said as she slumped into the seat next to Bess.

“If I never see a needle again it’ll be too soon.” Helen added.

“You’re in the wrong professional, Hels.” Bess smiled over the lip of her cup, and the three settled into an amicable, if exhausted, silence. Helen, sat primly in her seat, broke the silence.

“When’s your next date with James?” Her voice was soft and inquisitive, and Bess couldn’t help but smile at her, even if she hated the question.

“Tomorrow evening, but it’s not a date-”

“She’s too hung up on sailor boy,” Joan cut in. Bess gave her a look that was returned by a coy smile. Late at night, when the girls were missing their families or tired from a day at the hospital, they piled onto Bess’ bed a chattered the night away. They knew everything about each other, from Helen’s troubled relationship with her distant mother to Joan’s scandalous time as a nightclub hostess, and the ongoing saga of Bess Vaughn and Tom Bennett.

“Date or not, he’s a good-looking distraction.” Helen winked and Joan laughed at her.

“And with that, ladies,” Bess stood from her seat. “I shall be off.”

“Hang on, we’ve got about a hundred beds to make this afternoon!” Joan was incredulous.

“Not me. I’m off to job number two.” Bess waved her friends goodbye and stepped into the bright afternoon. A bus ride later and she was walking that familiar gravel path to the grey mansion. It had been months since she had seen Robina Chase, but money was tight and so her mending and sewing had resumed. With fabric now rationed, her clientele were calling upon her services to alter garments from years passed, maintaining to their friends an air of stoicism, normalcy, “keep calm and carry on”.

Half expecting it to open as she approached, Bess made to knock the bolted wooden door when she heard a laugh from the garden. It pealed like bells, tinkling gaily over the hedgerow, and Bess realised that it belonged to a child. Following the sound, she passed a bike leant beneath a window and her curiosity grew. What bizarre gathering had Mrs Chase assembled here this afternoon? A conscientious objector, a seamstress-cum-nurse and…

A little boy. Bess entered the garden through a gap in the hedge and found Douglas Bennett engaged in a game of football with the child. The little boy kicked the ball and it rolled into the makeshift goal post.

“Right between my legs!” Douglas laughed, and Bess noted that it was the first time she had seen him smile, really smile, in years. The man turned to retrieve the ball and saw Bess smiling at him. “Hello, love. Robina said you were coming,” he was a little out of breath, his usually worn face had softened and life shone in his eyes. He looked ten years younger.

Bess indicated to the little boy. “Who’s this then?” she said with a smile. Douglas, ball in hand, put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“This is Jan. Harry brought him home from Poland.” The boy, Jan, smiled up at Douglas then looked to Bess. She held out her hand.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Jan. I’m Bess.”

He tentatively shook her hand. “Hello,” his voice was quiet but Bess sensed his timidity was due to the language and not, she thought, his natural character. Jan’s hair was shorn and his clothes looked a little threadbare. For a moment, she observed him. The brightness of his eyes dimmed a little and he looked away. Damn, I’ve made him uncomfortable.

“You’ll get used to Bess, Jan. She’s a quiet one, but kind.” Douglas winked at Bess softly and she blushed. Despite both of their insistence to the contrary, Douglas and Tom were awfully similar.

There was a seconds’ pause. Then, Bess grabbed the ball from Douglas’ arms and sprinted to the end of the garden. “Come on, Jan!” The little boy laughed and ran after her. Dropping the ball on the ground, she kicked it to the him and he shot past Douglas towards the goal. Just as Jan swung his leg to score, Douglas picked him up round the middle and Jan squealed with delight.

“Bess.” A cold, clipped voice cut over the merriment causing Douglas and Jan to still. Robina Chase was stood at the door to the lounge, indicating with her arm that Bess should come inside. Bess looked at Jan and rolled her eyes. The boy laughed and watched her disappear into the house.

“I see you’ve met Jan,” Robina said, a pinched, somewhat pained look on her face.

“Yes, sweet boy.” Bess replied as she began assembling her tailor’s stand.

“Harry brought him back from Poland. Left him for me to look after.” Bess reflected on how Douglas was outside playing with him while Robina lurked inside. She said nothing. Since her outburst at Mrs Chase in August, and Robina’s altercation with Tom, Bess had exchanged very few words with the woman on her visits. Today seemed to be no exception. Aside from asking her to move so she might tailor her clothes, they said very little until Robina called for Jan to come inside.

“He came with barely any clothes. I wondered if you might alter some of Harry’s old things?”

“Of course,”

“It shouldn’t be too hard. Harry was just as wiry at his age. I’ll pay, of course.”

At that moment, Douglas entered the lounge. Seeing Mrs Chase upon the tailor’s stand and Bess on her knees at her feet, he coughed and mumbled something about waiting outside.

“No need, Douglas,” Robina stepped down. “We’re finished here I think.” Bess nodded and began packing away.

“I’ll see myself out, Mrs Chase.” Robina and Douglas were talking lowly in armchairs when Bess had finished tidying her things, and she didn’t want to disturb their bizarre tête-à- tête. She called a goodbye up the stairs to Jan and hurried from the house. The world of Mrs Chase was not the same one that Bess inhabited, and the moment she stepped into the sunlight Bess relaxed, as though every sinew had been pulled taut.

“Bess,” Douglas appeared at the side of the house and reached for his bike. “Need a lift?”

Bess beamed. “As a matter of fact, I do. Off home for dinner, seeing as I’m out this way.”

“Hop on then,” Douglas laughed as Bess eagerly climbed onto the handlebars of his racing bike and they sped down the drive. From an upstairs window, Mrs Chase steered Jan away.

✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼　　✼

They were back in Longsight within the hour. The journey was quiet yet contented; Bess had missed the comfort of Douglas’ broad shoulders and, though he hated to admit it, he had missed the feeling of Bess resting against his chest. When Bess had disembarked outside her father’s house, she invited Douglas inside for a cup of tea.

“You’re alright, got things to be getting on with.” The world-worn man had returned, quiet and reserved. For some reason, Bess didn’t want to let him go just yet.

“How’s Lois getting on?”

“Ah, well,” he removed his cap and rubbed his face. “I suppose you’ll have heard.”

Bess nodded. Cora had told her of Lois’ pregnancy by Harry. “If she ever needs any help, just ask. You know, with the labour and everything.”

“Thanks, love. She’s just so angry at everything and I don’t know how to make it better for her.”

“You can’t make it better Douglas. Just be there for her.” Bess thought of her secret promise to Tom. “And what about Tom? Have you heard from him?”

Douglas sighed. “Not for a little while. No-” He trailed off, thoughts of his son obvious across his face. Bess took his hand in hers.

“Write to him. I know it takes a while what with the auxiliaries getting out there, but he needs to know that your worried for him. I know he worries about you.” Douglas gave her a quizzical look and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when a shrill voice carried along the street.

Queenie Warren was hurrying along the road. She was overdressed as usual, hair haphazardly curled and lipstick far too bright for the spring day. Bess had to admit though, her dress was pretty.

“Hiya Douglas, Bess.” She wobbled past them as fast as her high heels would carry her. “Can’t stop, visiting Frank’s mam.” She blew them a kiss and went on her way. Bess watched her go. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t like Queenie.

“Bess?” She turned at Douglas’ voice. “Everything alright?” He asked, for Bess’ face had grown stormy as she glowered at the other woman. She simply gave Douglas a small nod. He touched his cap once more, and the two unlikely friends went silently about their business.

The house was quiet when she unlocked the door, apart from the ticking of the clock and the chatter of children playing out in the ginnel. Potatoes were sat in the filled sink, next to them a small note.

Bess. In case you’re here early, would you mind peeling the spuds? The cold ham is in the fridge. We should be back by 6. Cora x

Bess looked to the clock. Half past four. She made herself a pot of tea and settled at the table. The potatoes could wait, for the letter in her purse had waited long enough to be answered.

Dear Tom,

It’s taken me a little while to reply. Your letter arrived a few weeks ago, and what with Albie going back and my nursing work, I found that my mind has never been in the right place to reply. As it stands, I am sitting down to write to you at dad’s kitchen table. Cora has tasked me with peeling potatoes while they’re at work, but I’d rather write to you.

As you addressed some of the offences I accused you of, I’ll attempt to do the same. Namely, giving you a letter that isn’t “shit”.

I had work at the infirmary this morning, practicing our surgical stitches with Ms. Stern, our matron. She’s an austere woman, incredibly bony, and Joan says she looks like a heron. After that I escaped to Robina Chase’s. You remember her, the woman you aggravated last time we saw each other? I was going across to alter some clothes for her and you’ll never guess what awaited me. Your dad and a little Polish boy playing football in her garden! Harry came back from Poland with him, Jan he’s called. Your dad looked happier than I’ve seen him in ages. I think he was pretending it was you. He misses you so much, Tom. I can see the worry in his eyes anytime he speaks of you. I’ve asked him to write to you. Told him to, really. There was a moment when he was playing football with Jan that he looked so much like you. It almost took my breath away, it was like you were there. You’re so alike and he loves you. I wish you’d tell each other more. He gave me a lift home after Robina’s (the less said about her the better). I’ve missed our bike rides together. Saw Queenie on the way home, can’t give you any updates there because, being at the Royal, I never see her thank God.

Why had she let Queenie taint the letter? Bess could feel her anger start to quicken.

She was off to see Frank’s mam. You were right, by the way, about everyone coupling up. Jude has a man, another farmer from the Land Army. She and Hattie are working so hard now that summer is approaching. Roberta has been spending more and more time with that teacher from the primary (please don’t tell anyone), and tomorrow I have a date with a solider from the infirmary. Got his eyes injured by gas. He can see now, but insisted on taking me on a date as a thank you for looking after him.

Bess knew full well what she was doing. Let’s see how you like it, Tom Bennett.

He’s called James. I think we’re going to the Palais but I’m not sure, he’s picking me up after my shift. How are you managing with only men aboard ship? Any French girls taken your fancy? We both know you have a reputation to maintain.

She paused her writing and took a deep breath. That’s enough. She looked over his last letter, trying to find something to write about. The apology.

I can’t pretend that I’m not still hurt by what you did, Tom. I wonder, have you told Douglas and Lois about me? All those years you looked out for me and protected me from Walter and the others. They thought me a freak and a witch. Did you really want to keep me secret just so you had something good all to yourself? Or was it because deep down, you agree with them and only see me as an outcast? Or someone to say you got you leg over? If the former, then please know that you don’t need me to discover that you are a good person. You broke my heart, Tom, but I know that deep down you are good, and kind. I wish you’d find it in yourself.

Maybe too much has changed for us to be anything other than acquaintances now, but I’d like to be your friend, if you want me. Stay safe.

Yours,

Bess.

There. It was done. She sealed the envelope and thought about it no more. That was until a knock on the door distracted her from potato peeling. Opening it, she saw the ratty face of the postman, Dennis Warley. She detested the man, but a postman was a postman.

“Dennis,” she nodded at him.

“Bess, is-”

She cut across him. “I have a letter here, could you take it for me.” She pressed it into his hands and he stared at it before looking at her. His eyes were wide, worried, and his hand shook as he placed the letter for Tom in his bag and retrieved another. He cleared his throat.

“Is your father here, Bess?” His voice quavered, and Bess’ eyes narrowed.

“He’s still at work.”

Dennis coughed again. “And Cora?”

“They’re all out.” The man swallowed nervously, and a trickle of panic gripped at Bess’ neck. “Dennis?” Her voice was but a whisper. “What is it?”

The postman handed the letter to Bess. It was a telegram. She didn’t take it. Dennis removed his cap and said solemnly, “Bess. I’m so sorry.”

Notes: I’m sorry too! This is a war drama, the angst levels are gonna be through the roof, but know that I will reward you in a few chapters time!

We’re with Tom for the next chapter, you know what’s coming…

Tags: @aemonds-wifey @multiple-fandoms-girl @jessssica1234 @babyblue711 @anditsmywholeheart @allthefandomtherapy @valerie977 @bookwyrmsblog @phantomontheinternet @chainsawsangel @greenowlfactif @thelittleswanao3 @yentroucnagol @beiigegalx @skikikikiikhhjuuh @just-emmaaaa @mefools @aquakaris @its-actually-minicika @whoknows333 @arcielee @honeymaltgelato @girlwith-thepearlearring

#ewan mitchell #tom bennett #tom bennett x ofc #world on fire #the seamstress & the sailor #tom bennett x reader

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

Text

House Call | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! I've been wiring a lot of angst lately, so here's a nice fluffy one for you :)

If you like my stuff throw me a reblog 🥰

Warnings: fluff, mentions of medication, sleepy Bucky

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A quaint, adorable cabin appeared almost like magic as Bucky turned down a private dirt road. The house sat secluded beneath massive sycamore trees, their leaves aglow with the colors of fall. The whole thing seemed too good to be true, too picturesque to even be real. Neither you nor Bucky could believe that Clint had such a gorgeous place, or that he was nice enough to lend the house out for the long weekend. But he’d done so without hang ups- except one.

He made you promise that your trip wouldn’t include sex on the kitchen counter of his vacation home. “Oh, come on!” Bucky elbowed Clint in the ribs, “I’ve been looking forward to kitchen counter sex for weeks!”

But after the four-hour drive, neither you nor Bucky felt like doing the deed. You’d left right after your final meeting of the day, hoping to beat the rush hour traffic- with no such luck. The two of you sat in a bumper-to-bumper nightmare that seemed to last an eternity. People honked and cursed at each other as tempers flared, but you and Bucky were in your own little world. With anyone else at the wheel, you would’ve been fed up after the first hour.

But being with Bucky only brought you happiness, even if you were trapped in gridlock traffic. You’d been missing him terribly lately, seeing him less and less as things with the Flag Smashers came to a head. But now that the situation had calmed down, Bucky was all yours.

“Hey- gimme that”, Bucky narrowed his eyes at you with faux-annoyance and snaked your bag from your hand, “I got it, sweets”. You rolled your eyes at him like you always did, but his chivalrous tendencies made you feel special. He always insisted on carrying your things and offering you his coat as though it were still 1940. And you let him. You loved his sweet, old-fashioned nature. He was thoughtful and polite, and always always put you first.

“Thanks, Buck”. Pressing up on your tiptoes, you left a kiss on his cheek, “Such a gentleman.”

Like always, Bucky opened the door for you and insisted you enter first. When Clint had described the place as “charming”, he wasn’t kidding. It was cozy and warm with a welcoming air that drew you in immediately. Soft blankets, warm wood, and a massive brick fireplace combined to create a perfect getaway. An overwhelming sense of comfort wrapped you in a hug as you thought about sipping hot cocoa by the fire with Bucky. Laura had obviously furnished the space with heaps of love, and managed to create the perfect space for a long weekend away.

“Oh my god, this place is adorable”, you turned to Bucky, excitement setting your eyes alight. “Can we live here? I think we should live here. I don’t think Clint will mind”.

Bucky covered his face and let out a booming laugh, “yeah, doll. I think Clint would love that.” He couldn’t wait to spend a few uninterrupted days with his best girl in the secluded cabin. He missed you so much that it actually hurt. Being away for so long caused a physical ache in his chest that he swore would kill him if he spent one more day without you. He wanted to curl up in front of the fire with you in his arms and make up for all the time he’d spent without you by his side.

“How about we change into comfy clothes and get the fire started? Let’s get cozy, Sarge”. You shot Bucky a wink and snatched your bag from his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a sec”. Once you located the perfectly decorated master bedroom, you dug through your bag for your pajamas. Nothing sounded better than shedding your work clothes and slipping into something comfortable. These days, your sleepwear consisted of old shirts of Bucky’s, and Bucky was more than happy to give them to you. He loved seeing you wear his clothes. It made him almost as happy as his dog tags resting around your neck.

He’d been nervous to give them to you at first, fearing it was maybe too old-fashioned. But you’d accepted them without pause and threw the chain around your neck before Bucky could even blink. From then on, he never saw you without them. They rested comfortably on your chest no matter the occasion- you wore them proudly.

Just as Bucky knelt in front of the fireplace, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Shit shit shit shit shit,” he heard you mutter from the bedroom. Instant alarm set him on high alert. He flew to the bedroom with his heart in his throat, fearing he’d find you in a pool of your own blood. But when he finally burst through the bedroom door, there was no blood in sight. You sat on the edge of the bed with your bag on your lap, your hands digging through it with like a dog in search a buried bone.

“Is everything alright, doll?”

“What?” Your head snapped in Bucky’s direction, “Oh, yeah. I’m good”. You forced a smile to your face that made your cheeks ache, but Bucky saw right through you.

“Are you sure about that, sweets? Cause you just said ‘shit’ like eleven times.”

With a huff, you conceded. “It’s fine- it’s not a big deal. I just forgot one of my meds, that’s all.” You threw Bucky an overly casual shrug, “my bad”.

But Bucky wasn’t going to allow you to downplay the issue, “Which one?”

“The one for my anxiety. But it’ll be fine. We’re only gonna be here for four days- missing those doses won’t kill me.” Once again, you diminished your problem. Bucky knew how important it was for you to remember to take your meds, and how shitty you’d feel if you missed four days’ worth.

“But isn’t that the pill that gives you, um…the brain thing? When you don’t take it, I mean. It gives you ‘brain buzzes’?”

Regardless of your situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. Bucky was just so sweet, so innocent and cute. “Close!” you laughed, “Brain zaps. I get brain zaps if I go without it for too long.”

Bucky‘s brow furrowed. He’d been with you long enough to know that four days without your medication was plenty of time for the brain zaps to set in. Thousands of thoughts crowded his mind as he tried desperately to find a solution to the problem, but you were in the middle of nowhere, four hours from home. He couldn’t run to the apartment and grab your pills or pop out to CVS and speak with a pharmacist about getting you four days’ worth of meds. All he wanted was for you to enjoy your little getaway, but the brain zaps threatened to ruin everything.

“Buck, you’re getting all worried. I can see it in your jaw…” You took Bucky’s face in your hands and gently massaged the tight muscles in his jaw until he finally released the tension. “This isn’t something to get upset about, I’ll be fine. I can push through! I went like two weeks without my meds once- I’ll live through four days.”

Bucky’s arms wound around you as you leaned into his body. He was always so good to you, so dedicated to taking care of every little thing. He wanted every moment you spent together to be more perfect than the last, and if you were going to be miserable without your meds, he needed to find a way to fix it.

A strong yawn took hold of you as you flicked your eyes toward the clock. “Come on, Buck. Let’s just go to sleep, okay? It’s late and we’re both tired- we’ll do fun cabin activities tomorrow”.

Regardless of the worry settling in Bucky’s stomach, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you in your pajamas. You looked so perfect in his shirt, and his dog tags peeking out from beneath the collar was almost too much. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you. When he’d finally made you his, he promised himself that he’d do everything in his power to make you as happy as humanly possible- and he was determined to keep that promise.

“I’m so glad we did this”, you crawled into bed and dropped a light kiss to Bucky’s lips. “You need a vacation. And I- I’ve really missed you…”

Bucky pulled you in close to his body, wrapping you in his strong, protective arms. Each time the world needed saving, it robbed him of his time with you. And while he hated the Flag Smashers for a long list of reasons, depriving him of his best girl took the number one spot.

“I know, sweets. I hate that I was away for so long, and I know I didn’t get to talk to you much while I was gone…” Bucky sighed as a twinge of guilt crept into his chest. He did his very best to communicate with you when he could on long missions, but free time was hard to come by. And if someone tracked his phone to get his location, he’d be dead before you’d even read his text.

“Buuuuuuuuuck…” you almost nagged him. You wriggled free from his grasp and took his face in your hands, pulling him so close that the tip of his nose brushed yours. “You don’t have to apologize- I know what to expect when you’re working. The only thing I care about is that you come home safe.”

Bucky’s forehead fell against yours, and his eyes fluttered shut as you ran your thumbs over his sharp cheekbones. These were the moments he missed most. Of course, he missed your museum dates and the long, sensual showers you shared- but nothing could quite compare to this. He missed the quiet intimacy. He missed hearing nothing but the sound of his heart and yours, beating almost in sync. Being away from you always knocked Bucky off-kilter, leaving him feeling eschew and unbalanced until he saw you again.

“I know, doll. I just- I want you to know how much I miss you when I’m gone. I don’t ever want to leave you- my job is just…different.” Bucky knew he could never make it up to you- all the time away and the days or weeks spent without contact. He knew he nearly stopped your heart every time he came home slick with blood and nearly dead.

“I know it’s hard on you, doll”.

“It’s hard on me? Buck, I’m not the one saving the world-”

“But you worry the entire time I’m gone. And then you worry when I come home hurt. And I know you’re always wondering when I’ll have to leave next. It takes a lot out of you.” Bucky knew you too well. He saw right through the casual shrug you threw his way, the small smile that tried and failed to hide just how emotionally exhausted you were.

He knew just how hard you worked to keep things together while he was away. If the situation were reversed, he’d be incapable of carrying on as he waited for you to return home. But you managed to keep a brave face, to support him and care for him in a way he never imagined.

Bucky never let an opportunity to express his gratitude pass, “I just want you to know that I notice. And I appreciate you- so much, baby.”

Without words, you migrated your head down to his chest. If Clint allowed it, you’d permanently move into this quiet, cozy cabin with Bucky. The two of you would live out your days in the warm peace of the deep forest and the crackling fire.

“Well, I love you, Buck. I’d do anything for you…” And with that, you drifted off to sleep. Having Bucky all to yourself in the safety of the small cabin set your anxiety as ease, ushering you to rest. For the next few days, you didn’t have to worry about Bucky’s next mission- or whether it would be his last.

Bucky smiled down at you as his fingers gently weaved in and out of your hair. “I love you, too, doll”, he knew you couldn’t hear him, but never dared ignore a chance to tell you. He laid like that for a long while, just admiring your serene expression and your sleepy sounds.

Just like you’d said, you’d do anything for Bucky. And he’d do the same for you. And so, with you lying fast asleep on top of him, Bucky made his move. He slowly snaked himself out from under your body, careful not to wake his best girl. He haphazardly threw on his clothes and laced up his boots before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead- a kiss that held a wordless promise to return before you woke. A strange appreciation for his Winter Soldier training cropped up as he stalked through the cabin and arrived at the car without making a sound- at least it had been good for something.

It was only a four-hour drive to the apartment- and that was with traffic. He figured he could make it there, grab your meds, and return to the cabin before you even stirred. He could then slide back into bed with you, satisfied that the brain zaps wouldn’t prevail.

But he underestimated just how tired he was, how long and winding the back roads near the cabin really were. And the drive simply wasn’t the same without you. He missed holding your hand and kissing at stoplights, listening you sing along to one of the many playlists you made him. But the dark, quiet ride was worth the exhaustion and boredom. He needed this long-awaited weekend to be perfect. He knew you’d been white-knuckling it for a while, watching from the sidelines as things with the Flag Smashers boiled over. You deserved to enjoy yourself.

Bucky sped through the night, determined to get you what you needed before sunrise.

Morning light bathed the bedroom in a golden glow, gently rousing you from your sleep. But you weren’t ready to get up just yet- you and Bucky promised to sleep in this weekend. With a quiet groan, you rolled away from the sun’s annoying rays, and planned to bury your face in Bucky’s chest. But after scrounging around with closed eyes for Bucky’s safe embrace, your search turned up empty. The sheets were cold and the room quiet, completely void of the quiet whirring of his arm.

“Buck?” you called into the quiet house, but received no reply.

A familiar dread settled into your chest as you crept through the silent cabin. It didn’t happen often, but there were times in the dead of night that Rhodes or Agent Hill needed Bucky last minute. They’d land a jet nearby and abduct him from your side- at least, that’s how it felt. He’d leave you a handwritten note in his sloppy, scrawling cursive, always saying that he didn’t want to wake you. He’d give you all his love and apologize for leaving yet again, and with a broken heart, you’d add his latest letter to the pile.

As you moved through room after room, you still hoped for the best. “Bucky?” you called again, struggling to keep it together. And just as you resolved that he’d left in the middle of the night to go save the world, a quiet whirring caught your attention. The sound instantly granted you peace.

You rushed around the corner and into the living room, only to discover a sleeping Bucky. He lay slumped in an armchair snoring quietly and wearing one unlaced boot. The other sat abandoned on the floor next to his car keys and jacket, painting a very strange picture. But as you struggled to make sense of the scene before you, a small orange bottle caught your eye.

An all-encompassing warmth eclipsed your senses as you stared down at him- the kindest person you’d ever known. Bucky’s massive hand gripped the anxiety meds you’d left behind, safely holding them to his chest. He was just too good- too sweet, too thoughtful, too selfless. No one had ever cared for you like this. No one had ever made you feel so loved, so seen. Bucky offered you all of his love, all of himself. He hated being away from you, but devoted all of his time to you when he was home. And this weekend trip was no different. It was his life’s mission to take care of you, and he’d done just that.

“Buck…” you whispered, “Bucky, baby, wake up”. Your hand cupped his cheek and traced his cheekbone with your thumb, pulling him gently out of his slumber.

He blinked a few times as he struggled to orient himself in the unfamiliar space, but your touch brought him all the clarity he needed. “Hey, sweetheart. Good morning…” he leaned into your touch and granted you a sleepy, dopey smile. Nothing was ever as cute as Bucky in the morning, with his disheveled hair and tired eyes.

“I um, I got you this…” Bucky presented you with your bottle of medication, “I didn’t want you to have brain zaps”.

Sometimes, Bucky was unbelievable. He was too good to be true. But he was true, and he was yours. “This is so- thank you. Thank you so much. You’re always so good to me.”

“I just wanted you to have a perfect weekend,” Bucky dropped his head forward, resting it against your abdomen.

“With or without brain zaps, this is already the perfect weekend. All I want is to be with you, Buck”. You ran your hands gently through his hair, scratching your nails gently against his scalp. “But I can’t thank you enough for this. You didn’t have to…but I really really appreciate it.”

Bucky gazed up at you with a love drunk grin. All he ever wanted was for you to be happy and safe and comfortable. He’d drive eight hours in the dark every night if it would make you smile. He always felt like he dropped the ball, like he was abandoning you to do SWORD’s dirty work. But the look on your face said everything he needed to hear.

“Here, let’s get you to bed”. With a gentle tug, you pulled Bucky’s remaining boot from his foot. “What, did taking off the first one tire you out? Was that the straw that broke the camel’s back?”

Bucky’s groggy laugh came out a low rumble, “yeah, guess so. I was just gonna get back in bed with you, but… you wouldn’t believe how tiring it is to take off a shoe”.

With both of Bucky’s feet free from their boots, you helped your super soldier from his armchair. And even though Bucky was the one who’d only slept for a total of half an hour, he insisted on carrying you to bed. His strong arms held you close to his chest, pressing your body against his heartbeat. You knew the sound so well it sometimes felt like your personal metronome.

Bucky stripped out of his clothes and finally crawled into bed with a deep sigh of relief. He’d thought about this moment from the second he pulled away from the house. “Get over here, Barnes”, you offered your arms to Bucky and allowed himself to rest his massive body atop yours. His head fell against your sternum and before you knew it, you’d both drifted off to sleep. You remained locked together for a long while, making good on your promise to sleep in.

——————————

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