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multiples-fandomswontkillme · 3 years

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~Metal Family headcanons~

These are like my... general hcs)? which means I didn't include my main hc that Glam, Ches and Vicky are polyamorous, married and started dating after Glam met Vicky, and absolutely everything that implies for the kids and the relationships between each member of the fam. Maybe I'll make a separate post for that or maybe not! Who knows lkfwnlfqnf

Glam

Bisexual

Glam has constant nightmares and ocasional night terrors ever since he ran away home and is an active sleep walker. Ches helped him through the worse ones when they were younger, and learned how to deal with them, always preferring not to wake him up but being with him until the episode passed. Vicky has learned how to deal with them, though she normally asks Ches for advice with it cuz she comes out short sometimes.

He has PTSD. I bet it's diagnosed too, he takes medication and goes to therapy, it doesn't mean he still doesn't have his bad days anyway. He's trying to get better.

Glam has talked to Vicky about his past, his father and his family. This is a direct contradiction of Alina's confirmation that Glam doesn't talk about it with anyone but man FUCK THAT. We love good communication in this house, Vicky tries her best to help him, but there's only so much she can do to help.

Glam enjoys gardening, cooking and making models, he also likes doing his make up, painting his nails and dressing up in fancy, extravagant clothes even if he has nowhere important to go.

He likes taking care of everyone's hair, and constantly helps Vicky brush her hair cuz there's so much of it, Dee when he gets stressed over how tangled it can get, buys Ches hair products so he actually takes care of it, and chases Heavy so the kid actually washes, untangles and brushes his hair.

This one is kind of weird, but I refuse to think any adult in the family is unarmed at any time. Glam owns a taser and pepper spray. They're bright pink and sparkly.

This man cried his eyes out while watching Coco. He's hell to watch movies with cuz he talks and predicts what's gonna happen during the movie, judges them with scores at the end and all.

Vicky

Also bisexual!

Vicky's the one who does everyone's laundry most of the time. She prefers it that way since she's the only one that knows how to wash their black clothes so the colors stay vibrant. (This is based on my gf shaming everyone but Vicky cuz their black clothes always look so muted and almost gray, but Vicky's whole outfit is always the same vibrant black colors, so we decided that neither Glam or the kids know how to wash dark clothes)

She has anger issues, if it isn't obvious. I think she also has PTSD, mainly survivor's guilt due to her surviving the accident her brother died in. She blames herself and cannot bear to talk about it, in some sort of deep denial. If she can't remember, it can't hurt as much, right?

She has scars on the right side of her back and her hip, from the road rash she got on her brother's accident, she never treated it due to grief and it scarred badly. Apart from that, the scar of the caesarean section from Heavy's birth. She doesn't really mind both of them, they happened, nothing to do about them.

She likes watching boxing competitions, brawling matches and motorcycle repairing on TV. Loves doing BBQ's and going to the pool. Also an enjoyer of teasing her kids, kissing and loving her husband at random times, spending time drinking and bonding with Ches and bragging about her family and punching anyone who thinks they're not that cool.

Not particularly a fan of make up, skirts and dresses or any traditionally femenine-perceived stuff. But has been making exceptions due to Glam and Ches being unashamed of being seen as femenine, and actually rocking the looks. The internalized misogyny is kind of slowly dissapearing.

Apart from the guns she carries in each arm (I mean her biceps, have you looked at the size of those?? She strong) she has brass knuckles on her at all times. Glam gifts her new ones sometimes, she loves having multiple choices to punch people teeth in.

Loves horror, thrillers and action movies. Falls asleep during rom-coms and dramas. Ironically, loves gossip and talking shit about people. Enjoys hearing Ches talks about the gossip going on in the nursery home even if she doesn't know who the hell he's talking about.

Rest of the family under the cut!

Heavy

Heavy is a trans boy! He doesn't know his sexuality yet though, he's still figuring himself out. When he's older, i think he definitely dated some men but had better luck with girls.

Heavy has had innocent crushes on some girls on his class before, but they never turn into anything more cuz he's not the best at expressing himself. He follows the bother-the-girl-to-death-until-she-hates-you gimmick, and unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

I'm sorry to break this to u but Heavy totally had an among us phase, and uses so much reddit and twitch slang... You know he does.

Likes bullying and teasing his brother to death. You know that when Dee had his first romance, Heavy was ALL up in his business being a tease and a bad attempt at a wingman. He means well tho.

He's not squeamish at all. Also has great pain resistance. This kid has picked cockroaches with his bare hands and loves cats, of course the cats have scratched him. He's tough!

Grows up to be the charming himbo he was always destined to be.

Dee

I hc him as demisexual. Kind of inherited his dad's tastes for the takes no crap, intimidating but pretty kind of people.

Can't cook. He tries but he can only do basics like rice, cereal, chicken nuggets or eggs. Complicated meals always burn or don't taste like anything at all. It drives him crazy.

Dee was a quiet and very well behaved toddler before Heavy was born. He never threw tantrums or got whims. After Heavy was born though, and despite the fact he understood his brother was small and needed special care, he started craving attention often and cried and got mad at little things. Typical jealousy of the oldest sibling.

The first time Dee fell in love with someone, he didn't recognize it was love at first. He just thought his interest on the person was born out of curiosity and aesthetic attraction, but as soon as he realized he seeked validation and companionship, that he liked seeing them smile, that he wanted to protect them, that he yearned for more time alone with them and that he wanted more than what just a simple friendship implied, it was an instant 'oh hell no'. He wanted those feelings to get the hell away, but unfortunately, they were there to stay.

Canonically likes MLP, psychological and horror anime like Death note and Hellsing, so I'm deciding he also watched Death Parade, had a FNAF phase, is very into The Walten Files. This guy enjoys any kind of specially dark ARG's and knows a ton of lore of real crime, unsolved cases, ghost appearances and other stuff. Doesn't believe in the supernatural, but sure is entertained by it.

He's a mess at romance. Flirting? His attempts at compliments are hardly flattering. Giving gifts? The best he can manage is jewelry and you can kind of tell he asked his dad for help. Dates? He's so nervous he's silent for most of it, but begins getting comfortable and having fun if his partner really knows how to get him down from his negativity cloud.

Ches

Pansexual.

He's very good with kids. He has the patience of a saint and he's laid-back, chill and fun but still is an authority figure who knows how to put limits. Sure, he's gonna let the kids light up a house on fire BUT hey, now they know everything about fire precautions, burns and how to treat them AND how to get away with arson. What an educational evening, am I right?

Due to certain info from the "Goodbye" official comic, I headcanon Ches as depressed. I don't want to elaborate a lot 'cuz of spoilers, but... God, everything related to his mom fucking hurts, man. How did he deal with all that?

Ches has been Dee and Heavy's babysitter so many times he cannot count them with all his fingers. He learned how to put those kids to sleep almost immediately (Sing Bon Jovi's "This ain't a love song" and any cheesy love song in a slow lullaby style and they're out), which movie were their favorite as kids (Heavy loved 'Monsters Inc.' and Dee never looked away during 'Meet the Robinsons'), how to console them after nightmares (Heavy needed reassurance, sweet words, and to be with someone until he fell asleep again. Dee just had to be tucked in, get his nightlight turned on and kissed in the forehead). He practically raised those kids along with Vicky and Glam.

More than once, Dee and Heavy have slipped and called Ches "Dad". Ches immediately gets his shit eating grin on and answers "Yes, son?" and does a couple of dad jokes just to mess and embarrass them. He's actually very flattered and surprised at how proud of himself he is for being a father figure to both kids.

Has a scar on the left side of his forehead due to a bottle his mom threw at him when he was younger, around the time he met Glam. He hates the scar with passion, it's a permanent reminder of the fact she never cared, that's why he always keeps it covered with his headband. Gets sad about it sometimes.

Ches likes to spend his time with a group of grannies of the nearby nursing home. He genuinely considers them his friends and gossips and hangs out with all of them on weekends. Bingo, billiards, walks in the park, soap opera marathons, you name it. I even designed them, gave them names and backstories... God, i just love the concept too much. I'll make some art about Ches and his granny gang FOR SURE, you're NOT ready for them.

Carries a pocket knife on him at all times. This man grew up on a bad neighborhood and absolutely knows how to defend himself, he can be intimidating when he wants to be and will pose a threat if needed. He's fucking terrifying when genuinely mad. Just cause he looks harmless doesn't mean he is, darling.

That would be all!

#metal family #glam metal family #ches metal family #victoria metal family #chess metal family #dee metal family #heavy metal family #metal family glam #metal family victoria #metal family dee #metalfamily #metal family heavy

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therenlover · 3 years

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In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

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Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

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

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace, @multiyfandomgirl40 , @lovelymischief , @rami-malek-trash , @dazzlingseb, @avgravy , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno , @forcebros , @sugarsweetkiss , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff , @killsandthrills , @novasstudy , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp , @inmate-marmalade, @alanathedeer , @mossybank , @simsiddy , @xxspqcebunsxx

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

#zemo #helmut zemo #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #baron zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo x reader

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detectivehannibal · 3 years

Text

Pretty as a Picture

Hannibal Lecter x Fem. Reader

Warnings: Implications of smut.

A/N: Why do I keep disappearing from this blog?? I’ve had this idea for FOREVER. Fun fact about me, I sometimes recycle my works from other blogs. So if you’re curious, this is from my Harry Potter blog @seriouslysnape and here’s the original work.

Word Count: 1,738

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.”

On the surface, surprises don’t really seem to come to mind when you think about Hannibal Lecter. The esteemed psychiatrist always came off to you as an open book. He was usually willing to share all aspects of his life with you, which naturally left you believing that there weren’t any secrets lurking further within himself.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Despite all the things that you didn’t know about Hannibal, you knew him well enough to know the sorts of things that he has a fancy for and the things he doesn’t. As high maintenance and temperamental as he is, he is shockingly easy to please. It’s a bit of an ironic statement, but still the truth nonetheless.

You could gift Hannibal with something as simple as a pair of socks or with something as extravagant as a brand new luxury suit, and he’d always have the same genuine, appreciative reaction. If something came from you, he would surely love it with his whole heart.

This gift, however, was on a whole new level.

The idea had honestly come to you at random when you were brainstorming birthday present possibilities. Even though he would never admit it, he was a bit bored of you buying him a new tie for every occasion. He had a tie for every color, pattern, and even he could ever dream of. You wanted to think outside of the box this time. You wanted to come up with something that he would never ever think of.

On the flip side, you also wanted to be sure that it was something that he could have for a long time and something that would have some real meaning to him. You could always go down the culinary appliance route, but he already had absolutely everything he’d ever possibly want or need. You were in a bit of a rut, but that’s when you got a wonderful thought.

Hannibal didn’t own many personal pictures. Most of the photos in his house were custom made art pieces that were worth more than the price of your left leg alone. Hannibal never struck you as the kind of man to have plethoras of pictures of loved ones, but you still found it odd. It’d be a win-win in your eyes. You’d supply Hannibal with some photos to hold on to, and it’d be a thoughtful gift.

Then your plan took a sultry turn.

You had picked out a large photo album that would match the aesthetic of his house, and an album that would have plenty of pages to fill up. You kept it stashed away in your closet until you were ready to put pictures inside of it when another idea came to mind.

What if you made a sexy photo album for him?

At first, you were a little sheepish at the idea. Boudoir style pictures showing off only the dirtiest of contents? It seemed like that might be too much and even a bit weird. The longer you thought about it, though, the more and more the idea sounded good. Maybe Hannibal wouldn’t necessarily jump at the gift, but at least he’d have something to jerk off to when you weren’t around.

You assembled as many outfits as you could, some coming from your personal collection and some were purchased as a specialty to the production of the photos. You’d need some help actually having the photos taken, which is why you recruited one of your closest friends.

You could’ve had them professionally done, but you weren’t sure how comfortable you were with a photographer and group of modeling experts studying over your naked body for an entire day. Your friend was stoked for the project and dedicated a whole afternoon while Hannibal was at work to help you out.

You took probably about a hundred pictures, all with varying poses, outfits, and locations around the house. You even took a few more innocent photos of you just smiling or doing candid things. You figured that you needed some sweet to balance out the spicy.

You decorated the pages to add some pop and flare, ultimately thrilled with the final product. Hannibal’s birthday was only a few days away, and you were itching to show him what you had made for him.

“You’re fidgety tonight.” Hannibal spoke from where he was laid out underneath you on the living room sofa.

It was true, you had been extremely jittery for the last hour and a half, trying to compose yourself. Hannibal had told you that he had wanted nothing more than to have a quiet evening in for his birthday, which you found as a blessing because he’d definitely want to stay around the house after seeing his gift.

“Sorry. Just excited.” You admitted, seeing this as the perfect opportunity.

He raised a brow, looking down at your frame that was practically trembling with explosive animation.

“I feel as if I don’t need to inform you that my birthday comes around every year,” He joked; “What’s gotten you so elated?”

You smiled up at him with a brightness that was almost blinding. You scrambled off of the sofa at your cue.

“Wait right here. I’ll be back.” You announced as you dashed up the stairs.

Hannibal chuckled to himself, already guessing as to what you were plotting. You returned shortly after with the picture book in hand, complete with a bow on top. You sat with your legs crossed in front of him, eagerly handing it to him.

“It’s not much...just a little something for your birthday.” You explained.

Hannibal sat up from where he was settled into the cushions, eyeing over the cover carefully. It was a beautifully crafted book, the dark leather was absolutely gorgeous. He pushed the bow off of the sides, opening to the very first page to see a sweet note you had written him, signed with your signature and all. He turned to the first page to actually contain photos on it, and a smile of pure joy spread on his face.

You had put all of the non-sexual pictures in the first two pages to disguise the actual reason for the book. You were smiling happily in each of the first several photos, wearing different casual outfits and in different places.

“Darling, these are wonderful,” He complimented; “They’re stunning, they-”

His heartbeat quickened when he made it to the third page, and he noticed they had taken on a new theme. The scandalous photos were enough to knock him speechless. For the first time ever, you saw Hannibal’s cheeks break out into a deep blush. His fingertips trailed over one in particular where you were wearing one of his white work shirts with all the buttons undone. The only thing you were wearing underneath was one of his ties settled between your breasts.

In other photos, you were wearing different sets of lingerie. There was one lacy, red colored set that almost made him faint right then and there.

He was knocked speechless, unable to string together a single sentence. You were beginning to feel a little self conscious, and you went back to your original worry that this was a bad idea. You had honestly expected him to completely attack you with feverish kisses or fuck you right then and there. The fact that he was completely silent was unsettling, because Hannibal Lecter always had something to say.

Your voice was thick with uncertainty as you spoke to break the silence.

“Hannibal, do you...like them?” You wondered aloud.

His eyes never steered clear from the book in his hands and the photos presented in front of him. He turned to the next page, a rush of arousal flushing over him at one in particular where you were completely naked, stretched out on the massive kitchen counter and giving a look so seductive that it made his belly flutter. The sight of you naked in his culinary world where he spent so much time was a sight to behold.

“[Y/N], I love them. These photographs...they’re beautiful, well produced, and so, so sexy.” He breathed out.

You exhaled a breath of relief, feeling a sense of anticipation as he continued to rake over them. He turned to a new set of pictures, his hot blush growing even deeper onto his cheeks. He couldn’t look away from the scandalous photos, each one becoming dirtier than the last. He was riled up and he was already looking forward to having this book at his disposal.

His lips parted slightly ajar as he loomed over them. Your waiting was patient as he finished looking through them, his pupils dilating more and more by the minute. He closed the book once he was finished, his eyes finally flickering up to you. He had grown a very prevalent erection, and his eyes were filled with an intense amount of lust. Your suspicions had been correct after all.

He was going to rock your world.

Hannibal usually didn’t try to make the first move. He always wanted you to initiate sex first. He believed that sex was a passionate, romantic connection that shouldn’t always be fueled by burning want and desire from outside resources. Based on the way he was looking at you though, you could tell that he wanted you BADLY.

He nonchalantly rolled his hips forward to create some kind of friction. The sneaky grin on your face was almost maddening. The way that your body leaned in and your lips brushed over his just ever so was intoxicating. Your lips traveled to his ear as you purposefully let out a wanton moan to tantalize him.

“Touch me, Hanni. I know you want to.” You coaxed.

That was all he needed.

Hannibal lunged forward, smothering your body with his and suffocating you with hot kisses. He kept your hands pinned above your head, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck as he intentionally drew the most wonderful sounds out of you.

“What are the chances of you wearing one of those outfits under this sweater?” He said in a steamy voice.

You squirmed against his hands, but to no avail. When Hannibal didn’t want you to go anywhere, then you wouldn’t. You bit down on your lip in a seductive way, breathing out your response to send him into full on love making mode.

“Why don’t you find out?”

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #Hannibal TV #hannibal x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagines #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter x female reader #hannibal lecter x reader imagine #detectivehannibal

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aphroditestummyrolls · 3 years

Text

This one is the last one! For both @devouring-time and @ladybastet92 who requested Smiling and Hugging! I combined the two prompts because they worked so seamlessly together, I hope you don’t mind.

This scene (something like it, from Yusuf’s POV, like the rest of the story) was in the original cut of chapter four, and I think this one is the one that’s finally gonna break open the floodgates for this rewrite. I changed a few things here, like the setting (I just wanted to describe Yusuf in the rose pavilion) and the POV (but I’m definitely gonna add some Nicolò POV to a few chapters— it really needs thing up), but I took the dialogue and premise. I hope you love this, it made me feel oh so soft. 🌸✨🍓

“Can I see you again?”

That was what he always asked him.

He had so many questions, always posed with a strange formality that didn’t reach his glittering brown eyes. The Prince almost looked hopeful, as if he waited with bated breath on the edge of Nicolò’s reply.

Nicolò could hardly find a single word in his entire head when faced with that breathless politeness, and those deep, warm eyes. He couldn’t even bring himself to say the yes, yes you can, whenever you like— please let me see you again on the tip of his tongue. There was something new inside him, and it clung to him like ivy, spreading over his bones and into his chest to grip his heart.

It was want— Nicolò did not often want, but he did. He wanted to see Prince Yusuf again. And the Prince wanted to see him— he asked him.

Nicolò hardly knew what to do. He’d never had such power. If he was needed, he was sought, and brought before his king. He was ordered, not requested by the elite. Was it a trap? Or had this strange foreign prince forgotten his station?

“Why do you always ask me that?”

The question caught him off guard, and he fumbled his words. “Because you have no obligation to do so, if you… if you don’t want to.”

He had only been able to nod. He had no thoughts beyond the tug in his chest of something— something that twined them together, ever tighter and harder to resist.

It was dangerous.

It was exhilarating.

So, the Prince returned to him, again and again. He asked questions, he told stories, he complimented Nicolò’s work.

Not you, he reminded himself sternly, the traitorous heat of a blush blossoming under his skin, his palms sweating a little. He only compliments the gardens.

But the look in his eyes when he said such things was enough to leave him permanently pink and flustered, his ears burning. It was too much, almost, to hold Prince Yusuf’s gaze, and yet Nicolò could not look away. He came back, again and again.

Like that day— that day at the pavilion, Yusuf had seen the roses fully in bloom for the first time. The jasmine was in it’s last days before wilting away, but it’s cloying scent still wrapped itself round the pillars, mingling with the roses’ sweetness.

Yusuf looked transcendently beautiful.

The soft white pillars of the pavilion flanked him with the climbing vines of red, white and pink buds, petals unfurling against the backdrop of green gardens and distant lavender mountains. The darkness of his curls, his closely trimmed beard, and the black silk of his tunic set a striking contrast to the riot of nature’s colors, framing him like the negative space between stars— like a constellation.

He was looking up, and the awe laid plain on his face would have been enough to make Nicolò truly arrogant, but it didn’t. Because as Prince Yusuf gazed up into the kaleidoscope of roses that weaved up and under and around the wrought iron roof above them, Nicolò was looking at the Prince, just as struck. Just as breathless.

He had a dazzling smile— that of a true diplomat. His lips were dusky pink, and his teeth were straight and gleaming. Nicolò had been stopped in his tracks by it more often than he cared to count.

But, this smile was different from all the others he’d seen from him. The tightness around his eyes had softened, gentling his features into something genuine and unguarded. He looked young, and Nicolò realized for the first time that the Prince could not be much older than himself.

“Oh Nicolò,” he breathed, the words curling and intertwining with the scents of roses and heady jasmine. Suddenly, his throat went dry— he was rendered speechless and utterly stupid, hearing his name spoken like that. “Nicolò, this is… it’s magnificent, you’re magnificent.”

He tore his gaze from the canopy of petals above them, fixed those eyes on him, and he called him that.

Nicolò was sure he’d gone redder than any flower he’d ever grown— his cheeks burned with it, and he pressed his lips tight together, willing his face to school itself into an expression tamer than the wildness that bounced up and down in his chest. He met the Prince’s gaze, and found that he couldn’t look away.

“Gr- grazie, I…” he stuttered, voice trembling with restrained emotion, lips curling into something bright and warm against his will. He couldn’t stop the smile. “Grazie mille, your Highness.”

He should leave. He couldn’t stand the emotions threatening to burst from his chest, growing between his ribs like seeds under the sun. Under the Prince’s gaze— so soft and young, so sincere— he couldn’t take those warm attentions at such strength.

He was one breath away from making a break for the chestnut groves, when the last of his resolve finally broke.

Yusuf took his hand. It was warm and strong. His fingers were long, as elegant as the rest of him, stained at the fingertips with charcoal smudges and dried ink.

“Nicolò, are you alright?” His smile was still there, but his eyes glittered with concern.

He couldn’t contain it for a single second longer, blurting out “Y-You are just so kind.”

He thought maybe the young Prince would laugh at him— and he wasn’t sure he could take that. He was overwhelmed, a lack of control threatening him in a way he’d never felt. He should run, he could burst into tears, he could lean in and kiss those pink, smiling lips—

Yusuf let go of his hand, leaving it too cold against the air, only to throw his arms around Nicolò’s shoulders.

He was holding him. He was hugging him.

It was barely a second, but it felt like a hundred years to Nicolò’s mind. He was frozen to his spot, rooted into the ground as he had been any and every time in the past when he’d had to brace himself for impact.

It had been so very long since someone had reached for him this way.

Just as quickly, Yusuf was pulling back, urgency reversing the action, and he was wide-eyed as he did. As if he’d burned poor Nicolò, the Prince started to back away, and through the pounding of his heartbeat in his ears, his could hear his furtive apology.

“I should have thought, Nicolò, I should asked—”

And his arms moved without thought. “No!” he cried, and took the other man by the waist, reeling him back in.

The weight was steadying, comforting. It was as if a bubble had popped around them by feeling the reality of the Prince under his hands— he wasn’t some distant constellation, or a diplomat, or even a Prince. Yusuf was a man. He was young, and solid, and he loved Jasmine. He asked questions, and made requests.

A spell that had held Nicolò at the edge of propriety was suddenly broken, and he breathed the smell of Shea butter and coffee— Yusuf.

He had relaxed into Nicolò’s chest, deflating with relief and maybe something else— Nicolò felt almost like he’d been given whiplash, leaning into the man hugging him as he went from overwhelmed with pent up formality to the most at ease he had ever felt in the presence of another person.

The tip of Yusuf’s sweet, freckled nose brushed against the skin of his neck, and his beard was softer than it looked. Nicolò wanted to memorize the sensation of every single place they touched— he wanted to never let go.

But, they were out in the open, in broad daylight, only shaded from the world by a wall of flowers.

They had to let go.

“May I ask something of you?” Yusuf asked, just far back enough to hold his shoulders, arms length away, and Nicolò missed the way he could feel his heartbeat beside his own.

Nicolò beat him to it. “Yes, I would like to see you again.” He said, and he didn’t dare try to tighten his lips against his smile this time. The wildness of his joy could not be contained, not with his fingers bunched in the silk at Yusuf’s hips.

“Yes?” He grinned back.

“Yes.”

#the old guard #tog #tog fanfic #joe x nicky #yusuf x nicolo #nicolo di genova #yusuf al kaysani #immortal husbands #kaysanova #the fairytale au #color and light intimacy prompts

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thechekhov · 4 years

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Hi Chekhov! Really enjoying your white diamond au! I had a quick art question: How do you start comissions? I've been improving my drawing skills and thinking about drawing for others after having fun in artfight, but I don't know where to start? How much to charge, how to get paid, etc. Do you have any tips? Hope you're doing well! :)

Alright, since a few people have asked, I’ve decided to put together a few things about how to get started on commissions - what you need, what you should make, and how to keep things organized.

This will get a little long, so I’ll divide it into 4 main sections:

1) Draw Art - Getting started

2) Get Commissioned - Making a commission sheet, Advertising

3) ??? - Communicating, Setting Limits, Running the Business

4) Profit - Pricing Yourself and Getting Paid

* Disclaimer: I’m an artist, so this How-To will be illustration-focused. I’m sure many of these tips can apply to ANY types of commissions, but I will be focusing on the type I know best. If you are proficient in other types of commissions for other types of art - music commissions, photography, etc - feel free to chime in and leave a comment or make your own tutorial!

1) Draw Art

I think this is probably the most obvious part, but it needs to be said:

Before you start making art for other people, you must first be comfortable making art in general.

I’m not saying your art has to be Disney-quality, or industry-level! Not at all.

BUT! You must be comfortable creating what you sell. If you try to sell something you have little confidence in, you will stress yourself out and possibly end up losing time AND money.

Don’t shoot for the moon if you haven’t landed on it even once. Sell what you know you’re good at. Your commissions don’t HAVE to include full-body illustrations if you don’t know how to draw feet/solid stances. Limit yourself to what you can do.

Things you need to should probably have before starting commissions:

1. Access to art materials or a fully downloaded art program

DO NOT - Use a free tutorial version that will expire in a month and leave you without a way to draw! If you are having trouble finding a program, try free ones like MediBang Paint Pro.

2. Free time to complete the amount of commissions you want to take.

DO NOT - Take on or offer commissions if you KNOW you’re going to be overwhelmed with school or personal life for the next 2+ months. Pace yourself, otherwise you’ll burn out, get stressed, and get discouraged.

3. A reliable way to communicate with your customers like a commissions-only email

DO NOT - Use your friend/family/college email. It’s hard to keep track of things as it is, and creating new emails is easy and free. And keep it professional if you can! Not many people will reach out to dong-wiggles20434 to ask for a design. Ideally, your email should be close to your brand - however you want to brand yourself. Usernames are fine!)

DO NOT - Use Instagram/Twitter/Tumblr to collect commission info unless you are ready to do the organizing yourself. Some people make it work, but in my experience, if you use these SNS sites to communicate with friends and network... you’re going to be losing commission inquiries right and left and accidentally ignoring people. Email is much easier to organize and sort into folders.

4. A portfolio or at least 2-3 pieces of each type of art you’re planning to sell.

DO NOT - Advertise commissions without having any examples of the art you plan to sell. People will find it difficult to trust you if you can’t even give them a vague idea of what sort of drawing they’ll be getting.

Disclaimer: These are not hard ‘do not’s. If you have had a different experience, I respect that. I’m simplifying for the sake of streamlining this advice.

2) Get Commissioned

So - you have your art, you have your art program, and you’ve got all the time in the world. That means.... that’s right! It’s time to let the world know you’re taking commissions.

One of the most common ways artists signal to their audience that they can do commissions is by creating a commissions sheet. There are MANY ways to make this - and they range from simple and doodly ones to VERY complex designs. For example, here’s mine!

There are many ways to organize a commission sheet. At its core, a commission sheet should display the types of art you WANT to be commissioned to make. Let’s go over a few ways they can be done!

#1.... Body Portion Dividers!

This sheet is most common with those who want to capitalize on drawing people and characters. If you want to draw lots of characters, this is a great way to offer several tiers of pricing based on how much of their character your customers want to see.

#2... Complexity Scale

If you’re open to drawing many things but want to base your pricing off of how complex something is, you can split your tiers into done-ness. This type of commission is popular with those that draw characters AND animals, furries, etc.

#3.... Style and Type

If you’re more on the design side of things, or if you have various niche art styles that you can’t quite lump together, display a variety of your skills alongside each other! It helps if all the ones you have can be organized under a common customer - like those looking to advance their own business and get logos, websites, or mascots made for them!

3) ???

You got your first commission... what happens now???

Well, ideally you have the time, tools and motivation to make things happen! Now all you have to do is... sit down and... draw.......

I’m going to say something that may be a little controversial:

Commissions aren’t fun.

No, no, hear me out: I have fun doing commissions! I genuinely enjoy drawing characters and coming up with designs. But even with all that said, commissions are, first and foremost: WORK

I’m not saying this to discourage you, I’m saying this to keep things realistic. When I first began commissions, I thought it would be just like any other type of drawing. I would sit down, imagine a thing, draw it... it would be fun!

But then I realized that I couldn’t just draw what I wanted - another person had an idea in mind and had asked me to do it. I stressed over getting the design correct from descriptions. I stressed over not having the right reference for the pose the commissioner wanted. I stressed over not being able to draw the leg right in the way I had promised I would do. I stressed about billing. I stressed about digital money transfers. It was difficult, and time-consuming, and I did not enjoy it. At all.

And a part of that is definitely on the commissioner - we, as artists, NEED to demand proper references or descriptions. We, as artists, NEED to limit the amount of changes we’re going to make at the flick of a finger. We NEED to demand clear instructions and set boundaries. That’s also super important.

But also - don’t be discouraged if you find yourself exhausted drawing your first commission. MANY artists go through this. Adjust your rules, fix up your limits, practice putting your foot down on finicky commissioners who expect you to read their mind! It does get easier, but you have to communicate and put in the effort and act as your own manager AND your own customer service AND your own accountant. That’s what you’re looking at.

Good limits and boundaries to set:

Limit the amount of changes a person can ask to make. “I want blue hair.” Next email: “No wait, yeah, make it red.” Next email: “Actually I changed my mind, can I get the blue but like, lighter?” Next email: “No, not that light.” ... At some point, we have to stop. I personally allow 2-3 changes on the final stages of a commission before I start refusing or start asking for extra money.

Demand clear instructions and/or references. If something isn’t described, you have to take artistic liberty and design it, but that’s difficult! And if the customer is not happy with it but can’t tell you more? That’s not your problem - the burden of reference is on THEM. You cannot read their mind, and that’s not your fault.

Get at least half the payment up front! This is a good balance between the ‘pay before art’ and the ‘pay after art’ conundrum that will limit the amount of woes between artist and customer. (I’ll touch upon this a little more in the Profit section.)

Organization:

Where possible, create good habits! Tag your emails and organize your folders. I have a tag on my emails for active and finished commissions. I also keep my emails on Unread until I have time to sit down and properly look at/reply to them.

My Commissions in the folder are also organized chronologically and I mark down which ones are paid and which ones are not.

(I understand not everyone can do this, but if you want to give it a try, it does make things easier in the long run. Again, this advice is just what I have found personally helps.)

One last thing - I do not want to shame ANYONE for taking their time with commissions! Commissions are complex, and they take time and work. You can draw in 8 hours, but some things take research, materials, etc. Some illustrations realistically take up to half a year, or, depending on what’s involved, several years!!

THAT BEING SAID - it’s good manners to be upfront with your customers about how long you expect the commission to take. If you think you’re busy, just say that! Explain that you have a lot going on, and you will probably take (insert time period here).

And if your commissioners are worried, work out a system to keep them updated! I send my commissioners updates when I finish the lineart/flat colors/etc and I try to be clear about how long everything will take. I try to estimate with a +3-5 days buffer to give myself extra time... and recently I’ve been using it. Always say a bigger number than you think you’ll need.

If someone wants a rushed commission... make them pay more. If ANYONE wants a commission done ‘by the end of the week’ - that’s an automatic rush-job for me because I’m juggling an irl job and several commissions at once. I WILL charge a rush fee and I won’t feel bad about it.

If someone wants a commission within 24 hours...... Well, they better be paying you 3x your normal amount, or more. And remember - you CAN refuse! It’s perfectly reasonable to say ‘No, sorry, that sort of turnaround time is not realistic for me.’

Food For Thought - Invoicing

Many artists I’ve commissioned in the past have not used Invoicing, but I’ve recently begun to fill out invoices and file them in my Commissions folder just to keep track of things. It’s not necessary until you start getting into the Small Business side of Freelancing, but it’s not a bad idea to get into the habit early in case you might need to do it later for tax purposes.

Here’s what my Invoice looks like, for example.

I’ve optimized it to help me remember who, what, and how much is involved! It also contains important info for my customers like where to send the money.

Which brings us to...

4) Profit

One of the hardest things for artists is pricing themselves. I’m not going to tell you which way is BEST - there is no BEST way, only the best way for YOU.

One of the options available to you is pricing by the hour. It includes averaging out how long it takes you to draw a specific type of art (whatever you’re offering as a commission) and multiplying that by an hourly wage you’ve decided on.

When you do this, I stress - do NOT price yourself below minimum wage if you can help it. When you first start out, aim for the $15/hour mark and adjust accordingly.

Other ways to price your art:

- Per complexity: Portraits vs full body should be scaled based on how difficult you find one vs. the other. You can also easily decide on a price for a sketch and double it for lineart, triple it for full color, etc.

- Per type: Look up for industry prices for website design and logo design. They may surprise you! You don’t have to charge that much, but it helps to keep things in perspective.

It’s okay to change your prices! Keep your commission sheet image handy so you can update the amounts as you grow. :)

Payment up front or after completion?

Some artist take full payment up front. Some only demand payment after they’ve finished and sent out the piece. I personally think these are both risky for everyone involved.

I recommend doing at least HALF of the payment BEFORE you start the commission. Calculate your full price and ask for half before you start working on it in earnest, to make sure the person can actually pay you. Then, when they receive the full piece and are satisfied, they can complete the payment.

I personally work in this structure:

> Someone emails me with their idea/reference

> I send back a rough draft sketch that shows the idea/pose (only takes me 10-20 minutes so not a huge loss if they ghost) and quote them a price

> They can pay the full thing upfront OR pay half

> I finish the commission and send updates when I do the lineart/colors to double check anything so they have multiple chances to spot any errors

> If the person paid only half on completion, I send them a low-res version of the finished thing, they finish up their payment and THEN I send them the full-res version plus any other filetypes/CYMK proofs, etc.

Many of the people who commission me pay me up front even though I offer they pay half - and I’m really flattered that they trust me that much! Because of that, I feel encouraged to update them frequently and ask for their input as I work, so they have the peace of mind knowing I’m actually doing their commission.

Great, but how do I get PAID????

There are NUMEROUS ways - these days money is relatively easy to transfer over digital means, and you have a few options.

Paypal is perhaps one of the oldest digital wallets and is geared towards businesses. By setting up a PayPal and connecting it to your debit card of bank account, you can tunnel a pathway from your online business directly into your hands in a matter of days.

Paypal also offers Invoicing - you make an invoice, price it and send it to the person’s email and they can pay whatever way they need! (It also allows partial payments.)

Pros: transfers from PayPal to bank account are free, and take a couple of business days. It also has no upper limit to the amount of money you can move in/out each month. It can force refunds due to the nature of its business-oriented payment system.

Cons: Because it’s used by businesses for larger transactions, PayPal may demand a more rigorous proof of your identity. It may also take longer to set up and be harder to get used to. I’ve also heard that they can be a hassle when it comes to closing your account.

Venmo is another type of digital wallet that acts much like paypal, except for a few key differences - it is NOT made for businesses (so depending on whether you’re officially registered as a freelancer, you may not be able to use it). I personally don’t use venmo, so I cannot speak to its usefulness, but I know a few people that use it for casual transactions. It’s easy and quick! :)

Keep in mind that you cannot force a refund over venmo! The transactions are final.

There’s also CashApp, GooglePay (which could load gift cards but also allows peer-to-peer transactions) and I’ve heard good things about Due, though I’ve never personally used it.

Other ways to pay: I’ve had people pay me over Patreon by upping their pledge, and I’ve had people pay me over Ko-Fi by donating a specific amount.

Many people even use Etsy - the website specialized for independent small businesses selling art - by listing their commission sheet and offering up several ‘slots’ of commissions, which allows you to track taxes AND allows your clients to pay using whatever they feel comfortable with.

If you’re in Canada, you can even pay by emailing money directly from bank account to bank account - check whether your country offers this type of service! There’s no shortage of ways to move money in the digital world.

Just like everything else, there’s no singular ‘Best’ way. It just depends on what works for you.

I think that just about wraps it up! I can’t quite think of what else to put here - but I’m sure other artists will chime in with their own advice. :) I’m very sorry this became so long but I hope it was helpful!

Obligatory Disclaimer: I’m not qualified to give legal or accounting counsel. Please double-check the laws in your own country/state in regards to taxation of freelancing work and do your own research. If you are underage, DEFINITELY get an adult’s permission before you start doing commissions, and have the adult help you through the process.

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

OTHER POSTS YOU MAY FIND USEFUL:

An Extended Post on Pricing Yourself for Commissions

Dealing with Imposter Syndrome/Feeling ‘Not Good Enough’

Growing Your Audience

Advice for Starting Digital Art

#Anonymous #long post #commissions #how to #infograph #how to do commissions #arting #art tutorial

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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

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Ma Petite Chérie: Christmas Now (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Read more from this little universe, Ma Petite Chérie, in my masterlist!

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Their first Christmas as a family of four. Underwhelming gifts, naughty kitchen counter shenanigans, being suspicious of Santa Claus, baby kissies, oat milk.

Author’s Note: Baby bub is here! I’ve been so excited to finally be able to write about them, and I’m even more excited that you all get to read about them! This is the second part of my Christmas bits for this year. Unlike the last one, this one is obnoxiously adorable and no where near as upsetting (I really hurt my own feelings with that one). Reblogs, likes, tags, and feedback of any kind is always greatly appreciated! If you don’t see me before the year is up, I want to wish you a Happy New Year! Enjoy, take care, and tpwk.

“Two.”

“No. One.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Four.”

“Now that’s just bein’ greedy,” Harry spoke in a wounded tone with his brows furrowed together as if he were genuinely offended.

“But if Santa’s coming tonight and bringing more presents, why can’t I open these ones right now?”

Tallulah was on her knees in front of the sofa, fingers laced together with her chin resting on top of them. She was quite literally begging her father, who sat above her with one leg crossed over the other and an arm slung around his wife, to allow her to open the gifts that were prematurely nestled underneath the festive fir tree in their living room. Well, they weren’t married yet, but Harry couldn’t help that he preferred how the word felt rolling off of his tongue than “fiance.”

“Because they’re Christmas presents,” he stressed.

“Makes no sense t’ open them the day before.”

His freshly six-year-old daughter clearly didn’t like that answer - the pouty jut on her lip and subsequent huff told Harry all he needed to know.

“I already told ya, sweet pea. You can open one tonight. That’s it. The rest are for tomorrow.”

“Fiiiiiine,” the small girl said, although it was implied in her tone that it very much was not.

Tallulah hobbled over to the tree whilst still on her knees, and began riffling through the small litter of perfectly wrapped boxes to inspect which one would elicit the most satisfaction on her end. She seemed keen on a rather large one, decorated with tartan print and a red gift tag that read, “To: Lulah, From: Daddy & Mummy.” What she hadn’t realized, though, was that Harry had already made the selection for her.

“Not tha’ one,” Harry reprimanded over the steaming mug of coffee in the hand that wasn’t rubbing circles on Y/N’s shoulder.

He typically strayed away from caffeine this late in the evening, but he knew he was in for a long night of waiting up until Tallulah was fast asleep so he could take on the role of Santa and deliver all of the gifts he had promised her for being good enough to make an appearance on the Nice List. Knowing how much shit he had packed in his office that stayed locked this time of year, he really wasn’t sure how he was going to do it successfully.

Another exasperated sigh left his eldest child’s lips, to which she replied, “But this one’s the biggest.”

“But it’s not the one we want yeh t’ open, Lulah. ‘S the one with polar bears on it,” Harry stated, though not with full confidence.

“It is the one with polar bears on it, right?” he whispered to Y/N.

This earned a laugh from Y/N, who muttered a quiet, “Yes,” in return. She laid her head in the crook of Harry’s neck, basking in the warmth that radiated from his body. He smelled like cinnamon and the nutmeg-flavored coffee beans he’d ground up just a few minutes before, and maybe a hint like baby barf.

Tallulah scavenged the space under the tree like a predator hunting its prey - all on the lookout for the present fitting the description Harry had given her. Harry and Y/N found themselves thoroughly entertained by watching her overturn almost every gift, and shared a similar giggle when she narrowed in on the box in question before letting out a victorious, “Aha!” into the room only lit by a firelog in the chimney.

“Grab the one for Olive too, please. Don’t want her feelin’ left out,” Harry called out to Talulah.

“Okay, daddy!”

Her small arms stretched to the limit, trying to grab both packages without toppling over onto the others. Tallulah noted that they both felt the exact same underneath the wrapping paper, only her baby sister’s was much smaller than the one addressed to her.

“They feel like clothes,” Tallulah stated matter-of-factly as she took back her place on the floor with both presents in hand.

Harry sighed, leaning down to rest his mug near his feet against the sofa.

“Good grief. Just open it, will yeh?”

She needed no further instruction. Her fingers dug into the paper, piercing it with her nails and ruining the pastel blue parchment that was covered in dozens of cartoon polar bears partaking in various yoga poses. When Tallulah was able to tear the gift away from its wrapping, her hands grasped something soft.

“It’s....pajamas.”

Her tone was flat and unamused. Harry sensed her disappointment, though in his heart he certainly felt like he’d done a great job concocting his plan to have her open this particular gift on Christmas Eve.

“Yeah, but they’re Christmas pajamas. Don’t yeh want t’ look nice when Santa comes to visit tonight?”

This seemed to...disturb Tallulah. That was really the only way to describe how she looked at her dad - with her eyebrows scrunched up and her normally-plush lips pressed together in a thin line.

“...He’s gonna come in my room when I’m sleeping?”

Y/N hadn’t meant to, but a loud cackle erupted from her chest, which jostled the four-month-old baby girl that had the beginnings of sleepiness settling into her body. In contrast to the laugh from Y/N, Olive let out the tiniest of shrills, obviously upset that her mother had interupted the peacefulness she’d felt whilst being curled up against her chest.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, bubby,” Y/N cooed quitely, quickly moving to pat her daughter’s bum and comfort her.

“Mummy didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Y/N pressed a quick kiss to the sparse tufts of hair atop Olive’s head before returning her attention back to Tallulah.

“Lulah, I promise you that Santa will not come in your room while you’re sleeping. What your dad means,” she snuck a glance in Harry’s direction in which he smirked back at her, “Is that you want to look nice on Christmas morning, don’t you? You know Nana’s gonna take a thousand pictures of you and Olive tomorrow, so now you don’t have to change when she gets here, yeah?”

Tallulah nodded, though it didn’t do much to lift her spirits. She fumbled the cream-colored thermal set adorned with gold stars between her fingers, the motion she was always somehow doing whether it be to her dad’s t-shirt while she laid next to him during a movie, Y/N’s lotus pendant when she was smaller and could fit on her chest, or otherwise.

“Plus,” Y/N added, a hint of irony in her voice, “I’d imagine the presents Santa’s going to bring you are much less boring than this.”

They shared a knowing smile, Tallulah’s cheeks growing rosey and her eyes twinkling at the mention of the magical, bearded man.

“I’m offended,” Harry scoffed.

“Really thought those pajamas were proper cute.”

“They are cute, daddy!” Tallulah chimed in, “I like them a lot. Thank you.”

It appeared that the young girl had realized her moping about not receiving the nail polish kit she’d asked for didn’t do her any good. And whether Harry was joking about being upset or not, she’d never want to hurt her dad’s feelings. He’d raised her too kindly to do otherwise.

“You’re welcome, bug,” Harry smiled at her.

“Let’s help Olive open hers, yeah?”

“I bet it’s pajamas,” Tallulah mumbled under her breath.

That earned her a light tug on one of her two braided plaits on her head from Harry. The two of them chuckled at each other, their faces almost looking like identical portraits of each other.

“Humor me for a second then, Lulah. ‘S your sister’s first Christmas.”

Tallulah scoots over on the floor to stand on her knees, this time by Y/N’s legs as she turned Olive around to sit up straight in her lap. Olive, who was once determined to fall asleep right there on the couch beside her mum and dad, was now awake and had taken an interest in the crinkling sound of the wrapping paper on the gift her big sister placed on top of her chunky thighs.

“Here, Livvy,” Tallulah cooed, “You tear it like this.”

She tried to show Olive how to tear away the present by ripping it halfway open, but her effort proved to be unsuccessful the second Olive managed to get her fingers around a scrap of paper and immediately placed it in her mouth. It appeared that Olive was much more interested in the gift wrap than she was her early Christmas present.

“Well, there goes that,” Harry said as he fetched the then soggy parchment from his infant daughter’s lips, making somewhat of a disgusted face as he wiped the excess drool on the leg of his pants.

Tallulah takes the honor of opening Olive’s present for her, and is unable to stop herself from rolling her eyes when her eyes meet a set of thermal pajamas like the ones she’d just received herself, only Olive’s were green with tiny, silver stars. She’d parted her lips to make an undoubtedly flippant comment, but Harry cut her off before she even had the chance to mutter the first syllable.

“Don’t do it, stink head,” Harry quipped, reaching for the discarded paper that was scattered on the rug beneath him so he could put it in the bin later.

“How about you go put on your lovely new pajamas so we can get everything set up f’ Santa to come, alright?”

“Okayyyyyy,” the small girl grumbled before snatching the thermal set from the floor and darting off to her room.

“That didn’t really go the way I hoped,” Harry mumbled as he reached over to take Olive from Y/N.

“It’s Christmas, baby,” Y/N reminded him.

“Kids want toys, not pajamas.”

“Yeah but,” Harry focused his attention at worming the tight-fitting pajamas up his baby girl’s abnormally chubby legs.

“’S what mum used t’ do for us when we were little. Always got pajamas on Christmas Eve. Figured it’d be nice t’ do it for the girls, too.”

“It is sweet, Harry. Just wouldn’t expect a six-year-old to be that enthused about it,” Y/N snickered.

Harry hummed in agreement, his tongue poked out as he fed Olive’s arm into the tight sleeve of her top, struggling a bit to get her balled up fist through the other side.

“Ahh, there we go. Thank god ya only have t’ wear these tomorrow, Chunk. They’ll be too snug by next week.”

“Leave my fat baby alone,” Y/N scolded.

“There’s nothing wrong with being well fed,” she added, leaning over to lightly pinch on her daughter’s round tummy in an attempt to get her to smile at her.

A gummy grin took over Olive’s features at the sight of her mother, a true mummy’s girl at heart. She was much like Tallulah in many ways, but so different at the same time. Olive was still nearly bald, whereas Tallulah’s hair grew like a sprout when she was Olive’s age. Tallulah had always been teeny tiny, no doubt due to her premature birth, and Olive clearly made up in weight for what Tallulah lacked when she was a baby. They both loved cuddles with Harry and listening to the sound of his voice as they fell asleep, but it always puzzled him when Olive didn’t respond to some of his antics in the way that Tallulah had.

“‘M not bein’ mean. I’d jump on the chance to suck on your tits all day if I could, too.”

“Har-” Y/N began to reprimand him about how she can’t say that because there are little ears in the room, but was stopped short.

“I’m back! Can we set out the cookies now?”

Tallulah breathed heavily as if she just sprinted a marathon into the living room.

“Sure can,” Harry responded.

“Come tell Livvy good night first, though. Mummy’s gotta feed her and put her t’ bed.”

She smiled at the mention of her little sister, whom she was always keeping at an arm’s reach. If Tallulah was awake, she was in the same room as Olive. It made Harry’s heart ache in the best way to watch the two of them interact with each other. The feeling he felt when he first saw Olive in Tallulah’s arms at the hospital never subsided. He was absolutely besotted for his girls.

“Bonne nuit, ma petite soeur,” Tallulah whispered to Olive, reaching down to hug her sister and kiss the crown of her head, which she happily accepted in the form of weaving her pudgy fingers into Tallulah’s braids and pulling them rather harshly.

Before he handed her off to Y/N to be fed and put down for the night, he gave Olive a kiss of his own.

“Bonne nuit, ma petite chérie.”

“‘How do you know Santa likes oat milk? Did he tell you that? Luna at school told me he likes chocolate almond milk.’ What kinda shit is that?!” Harry exclaimed with a mouth full of sugar cookie and in the quietest voice he could muster.

He’d just spent the last hour with Y/N, silently digging Tallulah’s gifts from Santa out of his office and placing them underneath the tree. Thankfully, he hadn’t tripped over his own feet and woken her up or else he would have cried right there on the spot.

All Y/N could do was giggle back at him from where she sat on top of the counter, bare legs swinging as she had a mouthful of the very same oat milk in question swishing in her mouth.

“She’s asking too many questions n’ I don’t like it one bit.”

“Think she’s just growing up, babe. The magic doesn’t last forever. She’s about at that age. Probably only have one or two more Christmases before she figures it out.”

Harry stared at the remaining half of the frosted cookie Tallulah left for Santa in his palm, eyes quiet and sullen.

“Don’t like that one bit, either,” he muttered.

“I know you don’t, bubby,” Y/N cooed, pulling Harry into her so he stood between her parted legs on the countertop.

“But you’ve still got Olive.”

He seemed to perk up at that, looking up at her through thick lashes with a smirk.

“Just Olive? We stoppin’ there?”

“I mean,” Y/N pursed her lips.

“Wouldn’t mind trying for a boy.”

Harry placed his hands on either side of her thighs, stroking her skin with his thumbs.

“Might not happen on the first go, though,” he tisked.

“Could take havin’ a few more for that t’ happen. Yeh alright with that?”

“As long as you’re not tired of me by then, then sure,” Y/N jested.

“’M never gonna be tired of you.”

He leaned in close to her, touching his forehead to hers. He was a split second away from kissing her, but then Y/N spoke up again.

“Harry,” she called out.

“Hmm,” Harry’s voice oozed with desire and darkness beginning to turn his eyes a deep shade of juniper.

“Can I please have a bite of your cookie?”

He softly bumped his forehead against hers as they both broke out into a fit of chuckles.

“Allumeuse,” Harry uttered, raising the sickeningly sweet cookie to her lips.

She chewed the baked good tantilizingly slow, making a scene of rolling her eyes back and moaning as if the taste was euphoric.

“Tu aimes ça,” she snided.

“Je fais.”

The two sat in silence after that, finishing up what was left of the small plate of sweets Tallulah had left by the chimney. It wasn’t often that the house was this quiet. Normally, there was a crying Olive to attend to or a needy Tallulah begging for one of them to get more paper out of Harry’s office printer so she could draw pictures of the plants in their garden out back. It would have been eerie, had the multi-colored lights from their Christmas tree not illuminated the majority of their open living space. The twinkling bulbs brought a sense of peacefulness about them. Maybe it was the season, or maybe it was because they’d been feeling so grateful for their small family as of late.

“Honey,” Harry broke the silence.

“What?” she looked up from where she’d been fussing with the hem of her shorts decorated with tiny snowflakes.

“Yeh got a little,” he gestured to her mouth before bringing his thumb to the corner of Y/N’s mouth.

Harry swiped a rogue dollop of blue frosting that rested there and pressed it onto her tongue. She wrapped her lips around his digit, sucking lightly to remove the sticky icing from his skin. Her eyes met his, not once straying as he applied just the slightest bit more of pressure with his thumb. He noted the way her breathing slowed and how she gently shuddered when he tightened the grip of her jaw with the rest of his fingers.

“So pretty,” he purred, marveling at the sight in front of him.

God, how Harry wished it weren’t just his finger resting on the soft, welcoming warmth of her tongue.

Y/N slid off his thumb with a calculated pop of her lips, licking them to ensure she’d rid herself completely of any stray crumbs.

“Kissy?” she posed, smirking.

“I’d be pretty rotten if I said no,” Harry replied before pressing his mouth against hers.

She wrapped her arms around him, forcing him to stand flush against the counter and even closer to her body. He teased her with this tongue, gliding it along the plush skin of the inside of her lip. Y/N welcomed him and parted her lips enough for Harry to get through. Both of them taste the saccharine remnants of the cookies they’d shared, and soon all that’s heard in the house are the suckling noises and heavy pants coming from Harry and Y/N. It’s not loud enough to be a disturbance, but it’s just enough to have them both yearning for more.

“Talk t’ me, lapine,” Harry broke away from her for long enough to mumble one sentence, still pressed against her lips.

“Tell me what yeh want.”

“Want you,” Y/N said in a shaky exhale, chasing Harry’s mouth to reconnect with her own.

“Yeah?” he taunted.

“Want me right here in the kitchen?”

“Ideally, no. But I wouldn’t stop you.”

She parted her legs even wider, attempting to rut against the thick fabric of Harry’s fleece sweatpants. Her center met something stiff and Harry pulled her even closer by the flesh of both bum cheeks, massaging them with his massive palms in a manner that he knew drove her mad.

“That’d be pretty naughty of us, wouldn’t it? Not sure if Santa would approve of that one.”

Before she’s given a chance to respond, Harry snuck his hand between their thighs and began softly petting Y/N over her shorts. Her head fell back in pleasure, temporarily detaching her lips from Harry’s. She knows she can’t make a single sound or else she’ll wake up the entire house so she just sits there with her brows furrowed, silently gasping and letting these sweet, broken moans spill from her throat that spur Harry on even further.

“Can feel you even through your fuckin’ shorts, Y/N,” he grunted, slowing grinding against his own palm that was the only thing separating him from her heat.

This time, it’s Y/N that reached between them, feeling for the stifness that lies between his legs. She wraps her fingers around him through his sweatpants, leisurely tugging at his cock. Harry’s all but forced to begin sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck to keep himself from crying out at the contact, working at blossoming deep lilac and mulberry colored bruises there.

“Bet you could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” he muffles into her collarbone.

Y/N hummed, crossing her legs around Harry’s back as he began to focus his attention to rubbing her clit over the material of her shorts.

“Bet you could too,” she whined.

“’S that what you want, hm? Want me t’ make you cum without even touchin’ you right?”

“‘M not gonna have a choice if you don’t do something else pretty soon.”

She sped up the work she’s doing near Harry’s crotch, paying mind to what she can make of his tip between his boxers. With her thumb, she rubbed expert circles around him, massaging him in the way that he’s doing to her. Both of them could feel it, the slow build up of pressure deep in their abdomen - a coil winding tighter and tight with the threat of snapping.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N.”

He was biting her neck now, completely consumed by the feeling of both the damp patch seeping through Y/N’s shorts and onto his fingers and the precum dripping onto her more delicate ones through his sweatpants.

In an attempt to not embarass himself like a horny teenager, Harry withdrew his hand from in between her thighs and places it around her bum all in the same breath. Y/N sighed defeatedly at the loss of friction against the place she needed it most, dropping her head into Harry’s shoulder and whining rather noisily. Before she even has the chance to curse him for stopping, he scooped her off the counter with all of his strength and began walking both of them to their bedroom so he could fuck her properly.

Their lips detach when Harry drops her onto the bed and a woosh of air leaves the down comforter, causing the hem of Y/N’s top to fly up and expose her tummy. She still wore the deep, almost-metallic stretch marks she’d acquired when she was pregnant with Olive, but it wasn’t with shame. Her and Harry had a talk not that long ago about how much he loved them because it reminded him of how much he cherished watching his baby girl grow before she made her grand, earthside appearance. She’d not mentioned the slightest bit of disdain for them after that.

Just as Harry tugged his jumper over his head and threw it off somewhere that he’d worry about in the morning, his eyes caught the digital clock that rested on the wooden night stand on his side of the bed.

“’S past midnight,” he said with a lopsided grin, climbing on top of the girl he vowed to spend his last dying breath beside.

“Yeah?” Y/N asked, for the life of her unable to understand why that was relevant when just minutes ago, he was rutting into her hands and aching for release.

“Yeah,” Harry smiled against her lips.

He pulled up once more to add, “Happy Christmas.”

She had half the mind to smack him, but all she did was shake her head and smile.

“Happy Christmas, Harry. Will you please fuck me now?”

“Think I can manage that.”

It was the first of many Christmas presents for Y/N.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #dad!harry #dad!Harry styles #dad!harry styles x reader #dad!harry x reader #harry styles smut

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blue-bird-kny · 3 years

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How You Spend Days Off

I stuck to only the three main peeps, but I’m looking forward to writing for more JJK characters. It was actually really nice to write for them, so I hope you enjoy~Amanda

P.S: Be safe out after dark!

Warning: N/A

( 2.1K+ words)

↳{shenanigans you and your S/O get up to on days off}

Yuji:

Days off with Yuji are unpredictable and always either involve something thrilling and very energy consuming or it can be some of the simplest things a person can do- no in between.

Yuji usually is the one who makes plans during your spare time (though he always gets your opinion, of course), he just really values time with you and wants to experience so much together while he can

It was common knowledge that this coming Friday, all the students would have the time off to rest as a reward for all their hard work with the recent influx of curse activity. Yuji wasted no time in planning the perfect day together, from the moment you woke up next to him to when you both fell asleep, he had something ready.

“Ah that was delicious Yuji, thank you” you cheered, arms stretched high above your head in an attempt to work away the sleepiness the food had made you feel. “No problem! Only the best for you, princess” Yuji’s smile reached past his shining eyes, thrilled you enjoyed the assortment of plates and bowls filled with your breakfast favorites he’d surprised you with. “Well then, my prince, to what honor do I owe your company today?” you asked leaning against your balled fist and bent elbow on the table, amusement and adoration laced on all your features. “For one day only, yours truly scored us tickets to…! Drum roll please!” Yuji posed dramatically, eyes cast down while crouched and pointing in a funny manner.

You proceeded to bang your fist against the table, laughing lightly, “We’re going to spend all day at Monster Con!” he pulled out two floppy pieces of paper from his back pocket as you gasped, “Oh I’m not finished yet, princess, we’ll also be wearing matching costumes I hand selected” You stood quickly, clapping at his theatrical performance as he bowed, repeating, “Thank you, thank you”. You made your way to infront of the boy, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders while he enveloped your waist tightly, pressing you against him. “Not going dressed as your pesky alter ego, huh?” you joked staring up at the taller kid, earning you a slight pout, “No, he’s not invited” he grumbled. “Sorry, that joke was in poor taste” you apologized, shifting to run your thumb along his juted bottom lip to smooth out the lines.

“No worries, I know ya didn’t mean anything by it” your hand stayed cupping his cheek, both star-filled eyes trained on each other as you both wore the cheesiest grins. Just as you stood on your tip-toes to close the space between each other, a warm gust of breath blew against the palm holding Yuji still, “I was wondering why you hadn’t spoiled the moment” you sighed, lowering yourself to lean your forehead against Yuji’s chest instead. A small mouth carved into its host cheek frowned, now free to speak without your hand suffocating it, “I can handle the women’s teasing, however what have I done in my many lifetimes to have to suffer through this painful love-sick puppies act” Sukuna complained. “Many things actually” you responded, muffled by Yuji’s shirt that smelled of a citrusy-warm blend you couldn’t get enough of. “Why do you always kill the mood?” Yuji groaned up towards the ceiling, earning himself a scoff from the demon king. “Oh? You mean like that I wouldn’t let y-” “SHUT UP!” Yuji slammed his hand against his own face to silence the man, his cheeks inflamed.

Now clad in matching costumes, you as frankenstein's wife and Yuji as Frankenstein, from the hair to the clothes to the make-up, you both spent the day without any further hiccups; how Yuji kept Sukuna at bay, you didn’t know, but I didn’t really matter. The stares from passengers on the train to the convention center was obvious to everyone but you two, lost in your own little love-sick world of old-fashion horror movies, delicious food, and pure, unfiltered content.

Megumi:

Megumi is a simple guy who likes simple things; he’s overworked and more exhausted than he even realizes, however he doesn’t acknowledge that...ever. In fact, you could run a mile ‘too quickly’ by his standards and he will have you take a break and drink his bottle of water (though you had your own and he knew that).

On your rare days off together, Megumi would silently stick to you like glue; he wants to do something for you in the creative way Yuji does and definitely wants to spend the time with you, but he can never come up with a complete idea of how to ‘wow’ you.

Except you didn’t need to be wowed, in fact you really were burnt out, so when the day came when you had nothing to do but be together, you planned a whole day of nothing with a side of Netflix and take-out.

You knocked on the door to Megumi’s dorm that was just a few paces away from your own. It was almost noon and you still wore your pj’s from last night, cookie monster shorts and an old shirt of Megumi’s you took last week, having made no attempt to fix your hair. “Umi~!” you whined, banging on the door a little harder, the plastic bag from the convenience store rustling at your side. “Coming” Megumi opened the door in a similar state; pj’s still on and hair sticking in even weirder directions than normal.

“Mornin” you greeted with the faintest grin, “sorry to wake you” “ I was just getting up” he yawned while he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “Sure I can tell by the bed head” you teased, earning a playful eye roll from the boy. You waved the bag of goodies in front of his face, “Let me in, I’ll make it worth your while~” he chuckled, “I doubt it” despite his words he stood to the side, letting you past and closing the door behind you.

His dorm was dark and a little stuffy, clearly Megumi hadn’t had time to do the in depth cleaning the little neat-freak was so fond of. The continents of the bag clacked together and scattered around as you tossed it onto the small table in the corner, making your way over to his comfortable futon that smelled of his signature eucalyptus soaps. You flopped about for a moment, stretching, snuggling into the sheets still warm from Megumi, who was watching the small scene from the door, “C’mon Umi’ I wanna get through at least two episodes of SVU before we inevitably fall asleep wrapped in each others arms” you called dreamily with lidded eyes, already tired again as you buried beneath his sheets and pillows.

Megumi could feel his chest ache and stomach flutter at the image of the one who he cared for so much that it physically hurt laying there in his bed with soft, kind eyes just for him- it was almost too much. “Umi, I will eat all the sour snakes if you don’t come over here, your sheets are getting cold” Megumi was cut off by his own thoughts of admiration by your voice. He chuckled at the cute way your face cringed a bit at the sour-sweet taste of the candy before sliding into bed too, your head laying on his chest as he held you close. A small, genuine grin spread across his lips as the sound of Netflix starting rang from the TV, holding you even tighter, ‘this is perfect’

Nobara

Be ready to put on your best dressed because you and your girlfriend are hitting the town! Of course Nobara would find her way into the city whenever she could, foreign to the endless wonders the busy streets had to offer and luckily for her, you happened to be far more native with the many sights to see.

She’d let you sleep in, holding you tender as she traced her nails across your skin to form intricate patterns until you woke. You both would totally be the couple that wears matching outfits, the same colors and patterns tailored to your personal styles- of course this would also lead to thousands of pictures for Nobara’s instagram.

You two would laughed, eat delicious foods, and would spend way more than either of you cared to admit nor did you want to because the price of absurd, unfiltered laughter and the feel of just a good time, was one both of you could pay a thousand times (and a new pair of shoes too)

The sun hung lower in the sky than it did when you started this little adventure before noon, having been sold on the idea by Nobara that she “only needed a few things” this morning. Now, exhausted perched on a steel chair outside some cafe you’d never heard of with your sore feet elevated on the other empty one you waited for your girlfriend who was inside somewhere.

“Jeez even my fingers are cramped” you groaned flexing your numb digits; shopping was a grueling vice because no matter how much you’ve already bought, more cute sweaters, tops, and matching accessories called to you by name and the art of saying ‘no’ wasn’t exactly in Ms.Kugisaki’s vocabulary. “Here ya’ go babe” Nobara emerged from the shop with two cups, handing one to you before sipping gingerly from her own. You brought the plastic straw to your lips, sighing in relief as the contents quelled a thirst you didn’t even know had been building up. “I don’t think we did too much damage” your face fell and eyes bulged, flailing your arms out around at the brightly colored parcels that littered the table and surrounding floor, “Nobara there are at least fifteen bags here”

She laughed, her hand falling on top of your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze, “Still no that bad”. She scooched her chair closer to yours, her thumb rubbing nonsense circles into the denim of your jeans, “What next?” she asked leaning into her seat, her brown irises watching yours fondly, “Food? We haven’t eaten since a lot earlier and I could turn into a wolf any second and eat you” you teased, though food sounded better and better the more you thought about it. “Eat me? You promise, baby?” Nobara’s smirk earned herself a not-so-graceful, but light kick from you.

“An impromptu picnic sounds great” Nobara decided, tapping against you in finality. It became a game: You both had 30 minutes to run around the delicious food district to pick out each other's favorites, as many as you liked (which would be more food than two can eat), then you’d reconvene at the same cafe. Nobara offered to pick up a blanket at the convenience store because she ‘knew you so well she wouldn’t need the whole half hour.’ The game was on and time was ticking as you both rushed in opposite directions with several bags and a hunger to please the other.

You scurred around each vendor, selecting different meat dishes and veggies, cakes and watermelon, and even splurged on some fancy sushi from the place she'd wanted to try. Your arms quivered under the weight of the many shopping bags and take-out boxes, but you were determined to get back first. “Just around the corner- Are you kidding me?!” you yelled. In the exact steel seat she sat in earlier, was Nobara with an array of bags around her, boxes and the blanket stacked neatly on the table with dark sunglasses adorning her face and her legs crossed cockily as she spoke smoothly, “Beat ya”

Both of you grossly overestimated the amount of food you could eat in one sitting as practically unopened boxes lay stacked on top one another on the blankets while watermelon rinds and used plates were thrown into a garbage bag. The sun was low, almost at the horizon, painting the sky in pastel oranges and pinks with hints of purple and blue; the spring chill had blown a little heavier now that the sun was setting and it was getting harder to stop the shivers. Nobara laid against the trunk of a tree with you between her legs, holding you as her manicured fingers idly massaged your scalp quietly- you would have fallen asleep at the small gesture had you not been actively keeping your eyes open. “The boys will be grateful for the food, I’d hate wasting it” she yawned to which you only hummed.

“Hey” you turned your head up slightly, only enough to meet her gaze, “today was really fun” she smiled, slithering across your arm to grab your cheeks gently in her fingers, forcing your lips to pucker, “yeah it was.” Your wobbly smile made Nobara feel things, too many things at once, and a lump began to form in her throat, “I love you” you mumbled, Nobara’s breath caught for only a moment, whispering a thick “me too.”

Masterlist

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #megumi x reader #nobara x y/n #nobara x reader #yuji x y/n #yuji x reader #megumi x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

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Pseudo Princess Pt.34

A Little Spell

07/20/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 6,799

Warnings: smut, language, FLUFF, cute babies, slight angst

A/N: Enjoy! I’ve had fun with this one. As always if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work.

Tags are CLOSED!

Please do not REPOST my work on any other sites or blogs. REBLOGS are welcome!

Spring has awoken in Broklin. The sky is blue once more. Small tufts of cotton clouds fly by overhead as you walk with Maggie in your arms. She’s little, only three months, and aging with the peony blossoms in your gardens.

She wears one in her soft hay colored hair, carefully pinned by her Godmother Natasha this morning.

As she gawks at a flying bird, her chubby baby arms stretched out as if to touch it, your mind has a fleeting thought as you think about Nat, as it does every time you think of her.

What is he not telling me?

You remember it like it were only last night, Steve and Sam racing from your bedroom with a scroll crushed in Steve’s right hand.

He’d come back hours later looking tired and worried for only a moment as he walked into the room and then he’d smiled at you as you sat up, your little girl pressed to your breast as she fed.

He’d laid down beside you and kissed Maggie’s little feet just to hear her fuss a little and then laid with his eyes shut. Thinking things that you wanted but couldn’t know. Wouldn’t know. Still don’t know.

You’d known better at the time than to ask him what all of his rushing around had been about and instead settled Maggie between the two of you after she’d fed and only after he was asleep had you moved her into her cradle.

Steve had wrapped his arms around you in his sleep as you’d moved closer to him and it had chased away any fretting you’d had at the prospect of more trouble.

Despite the fear that had begun to grow in your mind, your worries seem to be unfounded as nothing has happened to alarm you or, really, anyone in the Kingdom.

“Sister!”

The call shatters your thoughts back to this blissful spring day and you turn to see Morgana moving quickly towards you, one hand holding up her pale green dress. The little vines etched along her collar and sleeves stand out in dark green and earthy brown.

“Morgana, your Majesty.” Peter states, moving towards Morgana and give her a quick bow while she too stops to greet him.

“Hello, Peter!” She smiles, then hurries back to you while Peter leaves you two to wait by the garden entrance.

You inspect your work—her dress—worried about the state of the stitching as she flounces about, but it’s holding up very well.

“Morgana, I thought you were in your lessons until the afternoon?” You chastise, eyes narrowed suspiciously as Maggie gasps in excitement, coos, and kicks her legs so quickly that you have to adjust her dress around her little feet. She’s a vision in pale blue to compliment the rosy pink peony in her hair.

Your own dress a stunning yellow, and a ribbon around your waist to match the color of Maggie’s dress.

With a little one, you have had to learn to keep your hair up or tied back. Grandmother had insisted on a braid this morning. Long with peonies also wound through to match your daughter.

For the most part, you don’t understand the fuss everyone has been making over the two of you looking so coordinated but apparently it is a tradition of the kingdom for a Queen and her child to set an example of “unity” . How exactly clothes show this, you have no idea.

“Hello little Maggie.” Morgana gushes then opens her arms to take her.

Handing your daughter over, you adjust her dress as Morgana gets her comfortable.

“Don’t ignore me, Morgana.” You warn her, with love of course.

“I’m not ignoring you.” She huffs. “I’m merely using my beautiful niece to avoid answering the question.”

You laugh. A confession you had not been expecting.

“What are you doing here?” You demand, still chuckling as the two of you resume your walk through the winding hedges of your now wild garden.

All these flowers once grouped with their own species and rigorously kept apart before were now in a truly wild blend of organized chaos.

“I finished early and the Master asked if I would like to proceed to the next lesson or spend the day on my own…” She begins.

“And naturally you decide that the day is better spent with Maggie and I?”

“Of course!” Morgana smiles, tickling Maggie’s little tummy. “Isn’t that right, Princess?”

“You should have gotten a head start on your lessons.” You reason.

“And miss out on this beautiful day? I don’t think so. Besides, my brother-in-law would like to see you. It looks like a meeting.” Morgana says, knowing that you will know what she means. “He sent me down to fetch you, and to take little Maggie back upstairs for her nap.”

“Has something happened?” You panic, stopping to look at her with wide eyes.

Maybe you were getting too comfortable too soon?

“I don’t know.” She laughs. “Father tells me nothing and mother insists that I stay out of all Avenging business.”

“They’re right, Morgana…I’m so glad that you weren’t anywhere near during the battle.” You worry. “Or Shuri. I’m glad she and her brother had to go back home before anything could happen.”

“They could have helped. The Black Panther is very skilled. And powerful.” Morgana reasons.

“He is.” You nod. “But I would have everyone be safe rather than risk the dangers of the castle that night.”

“You make it sound so terrifying.” She tells you, not realizing that you’d left out a chunk of compelling story when you’d recounted the events of the night.

“It was.” You assure her.

“Sister, even if it was scary, don’t you think that all of the Avengers fought for a reason? They all want to protect you. And my brother-in-law fights for more than just you and Maggie. He fights for the freedom of his kingdom.”

She thinks a moment, and smiles. “But mostly for you. You should see the way he watches you and Maggie. There’s a fear in his expression that I don’t understand. Almost a yearning. Even Nat says that she does not remember him ever looking at anyone so.”

“I don’t want anyone fighting for me, Morgana. I want everyone to be safe.”

There must be something in your eyes as you insist because she nods, understanding.

“Where were they?” You move on, eager to forget the night of Maggie’s birth.

“It’s only Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha.” She informs you, making sure you know it isn’t the entire team. “They’re waiting for you in Steve’s den.”

“Can you manage Margaret?” You wonder, waiting to see what she’ll say.

Morgana rolls her eyes, “Of course, I can! Now go.”

With a bite to your bottom lip you quickly lean in and press a kiss to Maggie’s cheek.

She turns towards you as you pull away. Eyes wide and hands and feet flailing and kicking in excitement.

“I’ll see you shortly my pretty girl.” You coo at her then head towards the castle at a hastened pace.

As you pass the gate you move to Peter’s side with a pleading look.

“Will you stay and watch over her?” You fuss, worried about leaving Morgana alone with Maggie. Not that you don’t trust her, but you’re a little more wary now after so many close calls.

“I-” Peter begins, ready to defy you in favor of protecting you. He’s your personal guard!

“Please, Peter. I need to know that I can trust you to protect her if I cannot be around.” You plead.

Peter watches your expression then glances behind you towards Maggie and Morgana.

“Of course, your Majesty. I will protect them both with my life.” He promises, easing the worries in your heart.

You hurry on, but just as you reach the door you look back at your daughter once more and find Morgana helping her wave her tiny clenched fist as she mouths Bye-bye momma! Peter joining them with a small jog.

As he stops beside them, Morgana’s gaze is diverted, and her cheeks fill with a rosy tint.

You return their small wave and allow your feet to carry you faster through the castle towards Steve’s den.

On the second floor you pass Sharon nestled into a small library with her nose in a book.

You stop, warring with your two halves. The one side of you is eager to greet her and ask her to accompany you to this new meeting that you’ve suddenly been summoned for when you’re so often left in the dark about Avengers matters. You’re grateful to her for saving your life and the life of your little girl.

Then there’s the second half. The wife half. The woman within you that remembers the sight of her nestled in against Steve’s chest. The stern set of her jaw when you staked your claim for him and then the feeble attempt at an apology that so clearly had meant nothing at the time.

Your jealousy is moderate now. It doesn’t rear its head like a starving monster anymore, but it’s still there. You are Steve’s and he belongs to you. You’ve rarely felt the need to make it clear that you belong to each other. When you see Sharon being one of those occasions.

With a quick breath, cut short by a determined huff from your gnawed-on lips, you stifle the urge to claim and instead allow the friendlier side to move you into the room.

“Sharon?”

Sharon blinks, searching for you with wide eyes still dazed by her book.

“Oh,” She smiles, rising as she sets her books aside.

She curtsies as you stop before her, hands placed gently at your front as you try to stand the way Nat has taught you. Regal. Or as close to it as you can manage. You’re still unconvinced that you can pull this royalty business off.

You know you’re Queen and you make no arguments about it, but you’re fairly certain that Sharon—and other women like her, Nat included—will always look more the part of nobility than you do.

“Your Majesty, good morning.” Sharon greets, rising and matching your pose but clearly more relaxed.

“Good morning. I hope you’re well?” You begin, hoping the pleasantries aren’t unwelcomed.

“I’m very well, my lady. Thank you for asking.” She smiles again, a bit softer.

“I was wondering, why aren’t you with the others in Steve’s office?”

“I, my lady?” Sharon asks, genuinely confused as she presses her hand to her chest. The pale silk orange dress is elegant but fitting of the weather. The dark purple roses that flow upwards into a cluster in the pattern draw the eye to her bust, just as her hand does.

“I was sent for by Steve just now.” You explain.

“I-I’ve been in here all morning. All night even. It might be possible that they sent for me, but no one knows where I am. This has always been a good place to hide.” She confesses and her smile widens.

“Well, why don’t you accompany me? Whatever schemes they have you will no doubt be an asset. Indeed, I don’t know why they’ve sent for me. I’m…I couldn’t possibly be of much help.” You shake your head, relaxing a little more with every word you speak.

“I think it likely that his Majesty wants to keep you apprised of the events in the Kingdom.” Sharon ponders. “After what happened at King Anthony’s castle, he’d be a fool to keep you in the dark.”

You hadn’t though of that. Steve is summoning you to keep you informed? He never has before.

Once again, your mind is dragged back to the day of Thor’s visit and Sam’s urgent scroll.

You must have gone into a daze while your mind ran with thoughts because Sharon clears her throat, pulling you from your own ponderings.

“Your Majesty?” She checks, wary.

“Sorry.” You smile again. “I’m sorry. Will you come?”

Gesturing towards the door you take a tentative step as you await her choice.

“Of course!” She exclaims, rushing to open the door fully for you.

“You don’t have to-”

“Please.” She states simply, and you don’t refuse her.

The two of you walk together, Sharon a half step behind you—as she should be with you as Queen—in surprisingly comfortable silence.

When you reach the wing that you and Steve live in, you clear your throat, walking a little slower with his den visible at the end of the hall.

“I’m glad you decided to stay a little longer with us.” You tell her quietly.

“As am I, your Majesty.” She smiles. “Seeing you run the castle and the introductions with the court and the people…I hope Maggie won’t turn in her grave, but you do this job better than she ever did.”

“Oh?” You’re not exactly surprised by her statement. Steve has often told you this himself, but to hear it come from two people who loved Margaret the most and knew her the best really speaks volumes.

“Maggie was always focused on the world. It’s good to see someone care about just this Kingdom. It wasn’t in ruins or anything when she was in rule, but it has truly prospered under your care. And your attentions to its people force Steve to also consider those closer to home.

“There will always be an evil out there for us to fight. I think he used to forget those that depend on him waiting right here.” Sharon ponders, not really asking any questions just making observations.

“You’re too kind.” You smile. “It has truly been my honor to serve. To help.”

“Serve?” She asks, confused.

“Isn’t that what we do? Steve and I?” You think aloud. “We are here to provide a service. That service is indispensable. We provide stability and structure to the lives of everyone in Broklin. We were placed here to not only rule, but to help and to take care of those who need us. We are called to serve our people in the best ways we are able.

“There can be no service more important to perform in all the world.” You shrug, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world.

Sharon huffs a small laugh, not in sarcasm, but surprise.

“What?” You stop, turning to look at her with your hands carefully placed at your front. “What have I said?”

“You truly put us all to shame, your Majesty.” She states, looking into your eyes with a sparkle of sincerity. “There are sovereigns that would say the exact opposite. That it is the duty of the people to serve their King and Queen.”

“And it is.” You agree. “We are a carriage wheel, the people and us. In order for us to carry forward, we all must do our parts. It’s why I chose to marry Steve despite never having known him.

“I love him now, but when I agreed to marry him, I had no idea who he was. My father needed me to be dutiful and I was.” You smile. “We serve the people and they serve us in turn. We cannot have one without the other. Kingdoms fall every day to famine, disease, discontent among the people…one cannot expect to take and take without giving something in return.”

“Yes.” Sharon nods, “I see that now. And I’m sure Steve has seen it too. You’re teaching him well.”

You laugh, finding it silly that you could teach Steve anything that he doesn’t already know.

“Come on, before they grow impatient.”

As the two of you approach the door, you spot Grandmother leaning against the wall just outside the door, her hand on her chest and her eyes shut tight as if she’s struggling with a pain of some kind.

“Your Majesty?” Sharon probes as you slow just outside the door.

“Go on in.” You tell her, “I’ll be right in.”

Sharon nods and joins the others while you approach grandmother, a sudden realization fills you with dread.

Grandmother is old. And as much as you’ve grown used to her care, she will not always be with you.

“Grandmother? Are you alright?” You check, easing closer before placing your hand on her back carefully.

She’s lost so much weight recently that her dresses have begun to fit her loose. You’ll have more made for her.

“Shall I send for a doctor?” You ask, ear growing.

“No.” She says, withered voice shaking with a trembling breath.

“What’s the matter?” You wonder, placing reassuring hands on the sides of her arms.

She looks up at you, her eyes boring into your own and you can see it all in the reflection.

She’s terrified. This old woman, fearless in the face of a full on battle, is scared.

“Will you not confide in me?” You fret.

“No.” She says, eyes narrowed as she considers you and her legs grow stronger. “Not until I see it all.”

You’re confused by her words but try not to dwell on them.

“Let me at least get you a glass of water.” You insist.

“I said no, girl. Get back to your duties and leave me be.” She grumbles and pushes around you, muttering something under her breath as she reaches into one of her hidden pockets and pulls from within it a small vial of glittering powder.

You watch her until she’s out of sight, your mind trying to make sense of what little she said, but you can’t. You never could with Grandmother. Why was she out here to begin with? Had she been part of the meeting up until now?

Inside Steve’s den, you find Natasha sitting on one of the plain seats by his desk, Bucky beside her, arms crossed as he stares at a map spread out across Steve’s desk.

Sam is leaning against the desk, one hand along the edge while he points at a cluster of black iron houses near the corner. Sharon, sits in the chair beside Nat giving the impression that Sam must have given the seat up for her when she entered.

Your husband sits in his large chair behind the desk, his elbow on the wooden arm. His right hand covers his mouth while he taps a finger on the other deep in thought.

All of them turn to look at you as you enter. Sam straightens up, Natasha and Sharon both rise to their feet, and Bucky drops his arms. Steve however is transfixed on the map, eyes blazing with storm clouds as his mind fixates on whatever problem has gathered them all into this room.

“No, please…” You tell the others and they relax, taking up their previous positions.

You edge your way over to Steve and almost on instinct he opens his left arm to greet you beside him, turning his chair before he pulls you into his lap without sparing you a glance.

Normally you might protest the open affection in front of your closest friends but as you sit and he wraps his arm around your waist, there’s a needy weight to his embrace that tells you in this moment he must feel you there with him.

You recognize it and it makes you nervous. Fearful of what is troubling him.

“Is it bad?” You ask, looking only at him.

He takes a deep breath and then releases it slowly but doesn’t utter a word.

“Bucky?” You turn to him and wait as he shakes his head then nods to Sam.

“They’re here.” Sam says, leaning over the map again to point at the same cluster of black iron houses. “In this village. Abandoned long ago. All of the structures are crumbling. Decayed. If they’re not overgrown with vegetation, they’re soggy with mold and moss. Thor says there are at least three dozen soldiers left.”

“Hydra?” You ask, surprised you could find the breath in your body to do so.

“We thought that Captain Danvers had killed Rumlow, but it appears that he escaped before she could finish the job. He’s taken what’s left of their numbers here to regroup and rebuild.” Sam explains.

“Then we go after them.” Sharon says passionately.

“Thor says that rushing in would be reckless.” Bucky says. “They have something there. A weapon unlike any he’s ever seen before. It turns men into mindless slaves with a single touch. It shoots out an energy that he has never seen.

“And there’s no way to guarantee that they would still be there, even if we went now.”

“Where is Thor?” You wonder, looking around as if he might appear form the shadows.

“Searching.” Nat says. “For information on the power they possess.”

“We have to do this carefully. I won’t risk open war. Not with these villages here surrounding them on all three sides and the border on their back. They could slip into the Kingdom to the south and start a war between our kingdoms.” Steve shakes his head. “We’ll take a day, come up with a few strategies. We must move but we must do so correctly.”

“I thought they were gone.” You lament, starting at the cluster of houses.

Your tone finally brings Steve’s gaze to you and he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

“And they are.” He assures you. “This is what’s left of them. They’re weakened and if we do this properly, we might finally be able to eradicate the world of Hydra.”

“Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” Bucky says solemnly drawing everyone’s eye.

Steve is frowning, his hands gripping the fabrics of your dress above your thigh as he considers his childhood friend.

“Then we’ll rip out their hearts.” He declares before immediately stifling the rage that filled his chest. “We need to take that weapon away from them and then we can kill them once and for all. We can’t wait for Thor.”

Nat gets to her feet and Bucky drops his arms. “We should at least give him a week to return before we attack. We need to know what we’re facing.”

Steve considers this, “I’ll give him three days. It’s all we can afford. Any more time and we may as well send them the numbers to withstand us.

“You and Nat take the rest of the day for yourselves, enjoy each other and tomorrow begin recruiting amongst the guard. Anyone skilled in deceit. They should also be able to hold their own against either of you.”

Nat nods and heads for the door. Bucky hesitates but quickly follows his wife out, leaving the door open.

“Sam, ride for Malibia and see if Tony can come back and whether Lord and Lady Lang are still present at his castle.” Sam nods, then leaves too.

“Shall I reach out to Fury?” Sharon wonders, pushing herself to the edge of her seat.

“No.” Steve shakes his head. “They’re racing after a separate faction of Hydra supporters. We’ll let them do their work. I want you to go to the East tower.”

“Wanda?” She asks, curious but unsurprised. “You want me to train her?”

“I want you to question her.” Steve clarifies. “She and her brother were part of Hydra. They were created by Hydra. If anyone might know what this mystery weapon is, it will be them.”

Sharon rises and rushes out with a curtsy leaving you and Steve alone in his office.

Your eyes dance around the now empty room, stopping on the curtained off corner that had been Margaret’s reading nook.

The jealousy you feel is almost imperceptible. He’s had it sectioned off for so long that you’re certain he did it to either keep you out or shield it from view so that he might move on without being reminded of his first love.

“Are you worried?” He asks, drawing your gaze back down to meet his own.

“Only because I wish this were over.” You shake your head, reaching up to trace the shape of his cheek and then slide your hands into his soft and slightly unwashed golden head of hair. “But it will never be over, will it?”

Steve’s face is serious, pained in a way, but only because he can see your distress. “No.”

His agreement weighs your heart down and you settle into his arms a little sadly.

He wraps you up in them, pulling you so close that you might as well be fused with how he’s got you tucked in against his chest. You shut your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder, tucking it underneath his chin when he adjusts it to rest it against your head.

“Oh, my sweet flower.” He whispers. “I’m sorry that I cannot be normal for you.”

His lament gives you pause, making your heart ache for an entirely different reason.

“Steve…” You push yourself back up, searching for his storm blue eyes which you find full of sorrow. “…I would not want you to be anyone but who you are.”

He considers your words for a few moments while you renew the caress to his head.

“Wouldn’t you prefer it if I were a normal king? No Avengers? No strange enemies with strange abilities?” He wonders. “I know that even my own abilities might be a little troublesome. I know that I can be a little heavy handed.”

“Steve,” You stop him, taking his face in both your hands and turn him to face you. “I would not change one single thing about you. Not your strange addiction to salted pork with that cherry glaze Cook makes. Not the wrinkles around your eyes when you laugh. Not the strength in your body or the smiles that greet me in the morning. Not the love you will always hold for Margaret, despite your declarations to the opposite.”

You drop your voice so that it is low and only for his ears, even though you’re very much alone.

“And most definitely not those heavy hands that pin me to our bed.”

His cheeks flush pink and it makes you so proud to make him blush that you chuckle once.

“I love every inch of you. Yes, I worry but only because I’ve seen you beaten and bloody. I’ve tended your wounds and watched you flinch. I’ve waited at your bedside in fear that you would never wake. I’m afraid that someone will take you from me and I’m not sorry for that. I can’t pretend that this life is not without risk and that very risk might one day take you from me and Maggie. I would wipe the world of evil if I could, but I know that I cannot so, I will worry every day for the rest of my life because I love you.

“That’s not a bad thing.”

Steve sighs heavily, hating your words. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against your chest as his hands trace the shape of your back, rubbing it to give you comfort.

“I wish I could give you a life without strife.” He cries, voice muffled against your breast.

“Oh, my darling, there is no woman, no wife or mother in this world that lives without strife. Perhaps mine is a little more elevated with so much hanging in the balance, as Queen and also the wife of the Captain, but I do not regret my choices. I would gladly marry you and endure all of my hardships over and over again if it meant that I could have this moment. Our daughter safe with her Aunt and you with your arms around me.”

Steve smiles at you, sappy and pure.

“I’ll be careful.” He promises.

You throw your head back and laugh, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep from falling off his lap.

“What?” He asks in humored shock. “What’s humorous in my promise?”

“Just swear to me that you will return to me in a somewhat decent state. One which I can nurse you through and I will gladly wait forever for you.” You can’t expect him to make promises he can’t keep and for him to be careful…well, you know better.

“I love you.” He tells you, voice deep and low.

His sudden declaration sends massive butterflies into the pit of your belly and your heart does a dance. It robs you of breath and you lick your lips and swallow the lump forming.

“Even after seeing me as I gave birth to Maggie? You love me after that?” You wonder, knowing the sight it must have been.

“No woman on this world is stronger or more capable than you, my petal. I could not have done what you did to bring her into being and I will worship at your feet for sacrificing so much to bring her to us.” He gushes, genuine and intense in his expression despite the lovesick flow of his words.

How long will this last? How long will he really love you in this way?

You know it all fades eventually. You’re not a fool. You’ll be glad if you and Steve love each other half as well as Tony and Pepper when you two have been married as long.

He pulls you down to kiss him and you give him what he needs and what you so desperately want. You think back to every time he pulled away from you, despising you for touching him just after you were married. You remember the way he forced himself to consummate, the way he’d drowned out your cries for relief because he wanted to get it over with.

He wanted to be done with you and never could you have imagined that he would hold you so dearly. His lips wrapping themselves along yours, tongue softly probing for entry which you swiftly allow.

“Do you have to get back to work?” You whisper between a kiss, lips wet, eyes hazy with desire.

Steve pulls back to see your eyes and he shakes his head, leaning back in. He runs his tongue along your open mouth as he pushes you up onto your feet only to reach down and hike up the front of your skirt.

He pulls you towards him, hands hooking behind your thighs as he guides you back onto his lap but leaves you standing over him.

His hands disappear underneath the folds of your dress, but you can hear the swish of his pants as he braces himself on the arms of his chair and pushes his trousers down a bit.

His hands caress the length of your leg, from behind your knee to thigh before finding your hip. With one hand he leads you and with the other he lines himself up, the heat of his cock pressing against the soft wet folds of your cunt.

You shiver.

“Tell me you love me.” He begs, needy.

“I love you.” You answer, a breathy whisper as he impales you slowly.

“My sweet…” He groans, yanking you down to kiss him in a fevered passion that you hope he will never forget.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I need to go check on Grandmother.” Your eyes are fixated on the shielded corner of Steve’s den.

You’re not really looking at it, but it’s in your line of sight.

Steve groans, tracing the skin of your bum where you sit, still resting on his lap. Your head is on his chest, your body still wrapped around his. Still full of him though he’s spent after three rounds. You will both be sleeping soundly tonight, so long as Maggie will allow you to do so.

It’s not the custom for you to watch her at night but you insisted and as Queen no one will argue. Especially when Steve is so eager to support you in building a new way of life in the castle.

“She’s ill.” You reason with him, “I found her outside your door nearly fainted. With her age, I’d hate for us to be careless with her heath.”

“Shall I send for a doctor?” Steve asks, hands stopped on your bottom.

“Not yet. I’ll check with her first and then send for someone if needed.” You sit up and make to rise.

Steve’s hands suddenly grasp your bottom tight, fingers digging into your flesh. There’s a worry in it and it makes you look at him in search of what it might be.

“Do you want to see?” He asks you.

You’re at a loss as to what he means, and it must show on your face.

“Behind the curtains.” He explains, then gestures at the spot with a nod. “You were curious once before.”

You look at the spot and try not to feel too hurt or sound wounded by the memory of that day.

“And you were angry with me for it.” You remember.

“No.” Steve says, voice stern and certain. “No, my love, I-I was angry but not because you tried to look at her spot. I was angry because I thought you’d read my book.”

He sits up a bit more, arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place as he reaches with the other one to grab the red book with the large A embossed on the cover.

“This book holds every account of every mission that we have ever run as a team. It holds details of enemies and their abilities or their motives. It has everything.

“When I walked in that day, I saw you with your hand on it. I saw you reading it.” Steve hurries to explain. “My heart dropped when I realized what it was you were looking at and I lashed out. It wasn’t right of me to do so, but the last thing that I wanted was to have you involved in that world.”

“Oh.” You realize, staring at the book in his hand. “I thought-”

“I will not lie and say that it didn’t have a little to do with Margaret and her space in my den, but mostly I-I was already in love with you and the thought of you and all your purity and goodness, all of your vulnerability exposed to the violence of the world I lived in filled me with a fear that I have never known.

“Even now, only the thought of our little Maggie in danger compares to the terror that fills me when I think of you at the mercy of Pierce’s sword.” He brings his hands up, one on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “I would have gone mad if he’d taken you both from me.”

You can’t blame him for the fear. You’d felt it too. Still feel it when you imagine your little one, protected only with your body and you with no way to fight Pierce off.

“We owe Sharon so much.” You tell Steve and he nods.

“I can never repay her for being there when I could not be.” Steve agrees.

Several moments pass in silence as the two of you reflect on what could have been and relish in each other’s presence, bodies pressed so close still, in gratitude for the reality of the outcome.

“So?” Steve continues. “Would you like to see?”

He tosses the red book back onto his desk and carefully helps you up. He pulls your skirts down, helping you fluff them out as they should be before tying the string of his trousers and adjusting his shirt.

With the soft hiss of skin on skin, he takes your hand and pulls you around his desk towards the corner.

He releases your hand and reaches up to unhook the heavy curtains.

As they fall away, it reveals not a reading corner but a remade space with a new seat by the window. A bench with a plush pink cushion, darker pink peonies in the fabric. The dark woods compliment the lighter colors. Around that seat is indeed a bookcase but it’s much smaller than the ones that surrounded it before.

There is also a spinning wheel, a basket of what you can only assume is everything you will need to make your own yarn. There are several small round containers that you recognize as sewing kits. In one sitting open you can see a pair of iron scissors, thick and heavy. A leather pouch, spools of already woven yarn, and a collection of cutting knives for leather should you decide to work with it. There’s a small table against the other wall where a large bookcase had sat before, piled with patches of fabrics for embroidery and a few samples of tapestry fabrics that excite you as you’ve never worked on a tapestry before.

Near that table along the floor is a plump yellow cushion. The design is also feminine but only just with silver and baby blue butterflies. A small pillow, a doll made of rags and another out of wood tells you that this spot is for your little one.

Steve offers his hand once more and you take it, in awe of his reveal.

“I know you like to read so I had some books brought for you, but I wanted this space to be yours and yours alone. Well, until three months ago when Maggie was born, and I had that small space added for her. Do you…like it?” He wonders, watching you as you let his hand go and move to trace the smooth lines of your spinning wheel.

“Like it?” You gasp. “Oh, Steve…”

You burst into tear and cover your face. Why must you be so emotional right now? You want to show him how happy you are!

“Oh, no. Please do not cry.” He pleads, moving to wipe your tears away.

“I c-can’t help it. I’m sorry.” You weep. “I’m just so-so happy.”

Steve laughs, an easy chuckle as he pulls you against his chest.

“Thank goodness.” He kisses your head and holds you until you stop crying.

The walk to grandmother’s is a happy one. You’re excited to spend time in Steve’s den. Not only because he’s given you so many new tools to really make some high-quality products but because this means that you’re officially part of his life. He wants you near him when he works. He’s opened his space up for you and is welcoming you so openly.

After so long spent wondering whether you belonged here at all, you finally have your place. Truly this is where you belong.

A keening cry pierces the cool spring air. The shade of the trees that surround Grandmother’s cottage suddenly seem looming with the clear sound of an animal crying out in protest is cut abruptly cut off.

You stop walking and wait a moment to see if you might hear anything else but when you don’t, you race towards the cottage, in fear for Grandmother’s life.

As you shove the door open, you expect to find the old woman clutching her heart again, on her knees in a heap on the floor.

What you do not expect to find is the old woman in the middle of a large circle drawn onto her floor.

Even now, a strange purple light fades from the circle leaving behind the sight of Grandmother on her knees, a slaughtered mess of black fur in front of her and her hands bathed in blood as she struggles to catch her breath.

“Grandmother?!” You race towards her, stepping into the circle as the light fades completely.

She turns towards you, watching you with pure white eyes. Although she looks at you, her eyes see beyond you. They watch something you cannot see, and you begin to realize that everything that everyone said about Grandmother being a witch had been completely correct and not at all because of her old age and her hermit behavior.

“Grandmother are you alright?” You ask in a panic, realizing her true self while trying to make sense of it with the old woman who just delivered your daughter.

When she speaks, she breathes inward. Her voice escapes as a gasp.

Breathing in. “The worst is yet to come.”

Breathing out. “There will be a power much darker than this world has ever seen.”

Breathing in. “Six are sought by the one who shall wield them. Half will die.”

Breathing out. “Already he makes his move.”

“Grandmother?”

With her eyes still bone white, she seems to finally see you and grasps the top of your arms with such strength that you’re sure her fingers will leave a bruise.

“He will fight harder than he has ever fought before. He will protect them all with his life.”

He? Steve?

“And he will fall.”

#steve x reader #king!steve x reader #pseudo princess #medieval fantasy au #royalty au #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #avengers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #steve x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #captain america x reader fanfiction #pseudo princess pt34

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pollenat · 3 years

Text

SEVENTEEN and 5 ways to say I love you

S.COUPS

Droplets of water resting on his cheeks, reflecting moonlight. The rain has surprised you on an evening walk, and right now you’re standing by the crosswalk, his arms holding the coat above your heads while he stares at the red light. You should be shivering and getting annoyed at the discomfort of wet clothes, but you can’t stop staring at his ethereal side profile.

A gentle smile blossoming on his face whenever you compliment him. It’s so powerful, you can never stare at it long enough. He may say “Of course, I know that.”, but that doesn’t make him any less happy. And when you tell him how great he is in the tough moments, Seungcheol doesn’t respond. Instead, he hides his head under your chin, where he is always welcome to regain confidence and comfort.

Kissing him goodbye when he stops the car by your house. It’s lingering, your arms embracing one another to keep it going as long as possible. Neither of you are ready to part ways, despite the late hour. His hands press at your lower back, and after long minutes of being entwined, you pull away with sadness matching his eyes. Seungcheol grabs you once again, for one last kiss, and then finally lets go, his eyes following you until you disappear inside.

Taking a step back when his voice raises. It’s different - an irritating blaring alarm compared to the sweetness of his usual tone. His eyes are also strange. So stark, you feel the pain they’re meant to inflict. But the hurt doesn’t make you close in on yourself. Instead, it’s like a log to your fire. You need to stand up to it, fuel the useless aggression, even if it will burn you in the end.

Carefully spreading the blues of a face mask on his face. His eyes are closed, and open only when you can’t stop yourself from laughing any longer. “What’s so funny?” you genuinely want to explain, but another look at the numerous pigtails sticking out in different directions forces you to hide in one of his shoulders. “What did you do to my face?” his question is trying to be humorous, but the terror is all too evident in it.

JEONGHAN

The sight of snow covering every surface possible. His voice when he complains about the cold. The redness of his nose poking above the scarf you’re tying around his neck. “You’re being embarrassing.”, but Jeonghan fails at hiding his smile behind the material. He doesn’t know his eyes are betraying him. “Yeah I know”, you answer him, now indifferent to the teasing.

Tired smile decorating his face when he visits you in the evening of your birthday. Training clothes crumpled, hair a mess, shoelaces untied and tucked into the sides. You tell him he didn’t have to, he’s done enough for you and needs rest. But truth be told, you’re selfishly happy to have him here. “If it’s for you, I don’t mind giving up few hours of sleep.” he says with calm certainty.

The times you have to wait for him to acknowledge you because of a petty fight. He’s not the person to back down from one, and you sometimes feel like pulling your fingers out from the amount of frustration you’re going through. You know he’ll eventually relent, let you in, lock you in a tight embrace, if only to ask why didn’t you say anything sooner. You’ll want to pick up the fight again, but what for?

Pieces of clothing he deliberately leaves at your place, so he can tease you whenever you put them on. “I was wondering where it disappeared.” “But you-” “It’s okay. I know how good I smell.” “Jeonghan-” “Shh, you can hold on to it for now.” As much as you want to argue, you end the fight with an angry sigh.

The smell of grass during a sunny day. Tree bark imprinting itself on your back, and Jeonghan’s head weighing down your thigh, his breath calm. There’s no doubt - he’s asleep. The guy could doze off anywhere. Somewhere in the back, a guitarist is playing for tips, light melody mixing with distant chatter. Your hands put away the book, tired of holding it in the air. Instead, you let the strands of Jeonghan’s hair entertain you.

JOSHUA

The cheesiness of slow-dancing in a room illuminated by the moon only. A song you came to like is playing, and Joshua’s voice joins the singer every now and then, before he stops himself. You’d rather listen to him singing. He laughs at the idea. “Don’t be cheesy!” but he can be?

Helping him fix his tie and collar before going to theater. His chin is pointing upwards, but his eyes are set on your face. You aren’t sure what he’s looking for, and the constant observation makes you self-conscious. “Why are you staring at me?” the question makes him smile. You take note of that, but remain busy with the tie. “Just admiring my beautiful plus one.”

Sitting by the table, him in front of you. It’s night time, and you’re both tired. It’s crazy how despite a hectic day, Joshua has managed to make you dinner. “Oh, this? It’s nothing!” was what he said after putting the plates of a complicated dish down. You can’t help, but smile to yourself in silence. Joshua’s foot nudges your underneath the table, and you look up to see him frowning questioningly. “It’s delicious.” has him smiling proudly.

The movie being just a background noise, neither of you interested in what it has to present. Not when you’re cuddled on the sofa, almost (!) sleeping. Joshua has his head tucked under your jaw. His breathing is regular and warm on your neck.Your fingers get tangled in the longer hairs on the top of his head. Eyes finally closing, the last thing you register is the characteristic smell of his shampoo.

Seeing his shoulders closing in on him. Head down, eyes empty, lips shut tight. Your approaching footsteps have no effect on his stature. He’s sitting still in his pose. A hand on his shoulder ends up shaken off. Words directed at him earn no response. After what feels like forever of standing dumbfounded by his side, you take a step back and leave him be. Maybe he needs space. Maybe he will call for you when he’s ready. Maybe, maybe, maybe. One thing is sure - you do feel a little hurt by rejection.

JUN

The weight of his hand on your shoulder when you’re standing in a crowded space. It’s a bit suffocating, you can’t lie. Having Junhui’s protective arm embracing you forces your attention to focus on his presence instead. He can’t bring himself to look at you, sure you’ll tease him. Still, he can feel your admiring glances. “I know, I’m very chivalrous.” leaves his mouth before he can bite his tongue. “Don’t ruin the moment.” “Okay.”

Kissing your forehead numerous times when he notices it’s warm. His jumper is already on your chest, shyly given earlier after you commented the weather. Jun’s cold hand rests on your cheek to check its temperature too. After one last peck he finally declares “You have a fever.” in a bewildered tone.

Opening your phone’s gallery to twenty new selfies that Junhui has taken when you weren’t nearby. They’re almost all the same, but you can’t bring yourself to delete any. Even if it means he gets teasing material. “Obviously, I’m just too good-looking, right babe?” “Oh my god, yes you are, Junhui.” “Exactly.”

A noodle hanging from his mouth, and the suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. You think of the scene that the two of you saw the day before - the connection is obvious. Jun smiles when you hesitate to follow his lead, proud to bring your cheeks the warmth of embarrassment. Then he chokes on the noodle, because you decided to strike back and take the other end in your mouth. As if he was the only one allowed to tease in your relationship.

How odd it is to see him indifferent and actually nervous around you. There’s a fear that it might’ve cemented the incoming end of your relationship. That maybe he wants nothing more to do with you. But Jun’s train of thoughts is far away from the breakup sphere, rather unsure how to make things normal again. It’s only a matter of time, right? And why are you just as strange about everything as him?

HOSHI

Sharing a blanket with each other on the cold wooden boards, your group of friends seated in a circle, as you take turns telling scary stories. Your and Soonyoung’s terrified glances meet every now and then, before he leans on your chest so you can lock hands over his shoulder protectively. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe.” His giggles at your promise score you numerous scolding looks.

You’re not the first one to notice him. Once his silhouette comes into your view, he’s already jumping in place, flailing his arms in the air for attention. A big smile spreads across his face, pushing his eyes almost shut. Soonyoung mouths something, but you can’t read his lips at all. Then he starts running towards you with arms wide open for embrace. Laughing, you do the same. It is embarrassing, but your suffering ends as soon as your face can hide in his neck.

Spoons of your meal disappearing in his mouth, although his half-finished own is resting right next to it. After five pointed glances, you give up to watch him full-time instead. Soonyoung is clearly enjoying his food. “Why are you not eating?” “I’m full already.” “You and your small stomach!” Him and his big stomach!

The collection of old Halloween couple costume’s you’ve collected over the years. Each worn just once, each as memorable as the previous one. Soonyoung throws himself at the mountain of colorful materials, his lips pouting. “You want to get rid of them? Our memories?!” “They’re taking up too much space.” He groans disgusted. “So?” “Get off and help me pack them.” “Make me!”

His sad eyes following your every move as you walk around the room gathering things. There’s a stark contrast between his watery gaze, and your angry stare. Every few seconds he starts senseless sentences, more a product of desperation than solid argumentation. And then you leave him alone, to get lost in his sad thoughts, to wonder what could’ve been done to avoid the conflict altogether.

WONWOO

Eardrum-bursting noise of speeding cars. You flinch in your spot, then shoot a glare to the man that accidentally sat on remote control. “Wonwoo!” He smiles apologetically once you point out the volume. Sighing, you pick up the phone. Its clock reads 2 a.m, but even the realization doesn’t make you tired. “One more mission, come on!”

No matter when and where you’ve agreed to meet, he’s always the first one to appear. It’s not the nicest feeling - being always waited for - but Wonwoo rejects your attempts at confrontation. He says he’s used to it and prefers things that way. Why worry your head, when it’s all figured out. He doesn’t know that you know that he’s very particular about being the first one everywhere. Talk about chivalry.

The avoidance of physical contact. Yes, you are in a disagreement. Yes, some feelings were hurt. Yes, both of you are mad. The tension is thick, waiting for a knife sharp enough to cut through it. Tired of frowning, you reach for the rock you can always lean on, but the rock moves. You’re pushed away without him pushing, and at that moment the word hurt is redefined.

Summery evening spent by a lake. There’s a picnic table, usually posing nude with its graffiti, today dressed in a checkered cloth. A basket of half-finished lunch rests above all, closed, hopefully keeping the fruit away from insects. You watch another stone skipping the surface of calm water. It’s not a record-breaker, but you still cheer for Wonwoo. Sunset glances off of his glasses when he turns to look back.

Going through the pictures you ordered. A large frame is placed on the other end of the table, the blankness waiting for colors. But it’s been hours, and aside from leaning over the pictured memories, no collection has been decided. Wonwoo’s hand closes over yours when you hand him a particularly funny photograph. His deep hum resonates in appreciation.

WOOZI

The look of bewilderment he puts on when your hand offers him a spoonful of food. You don’t mind the public, only nod at him in encouragement, and although shy, he accepts the offering. “Please, stop doing that.” “I can’t hear you because this stew is so amazingly delicious! You should have a taste once more!” Another spoon glares at him under your innocent gaze.

Hugging him tightly as you’re waiting for sleep to take over. The duvet is too cold for your liking, and Jihoon offers the only source of warmth you accept. You know that in the morning you’ll wake up separated, but for now you plan on enjoying being so close to him. Every now and then he leaves lingering kisses on your forehead without saying a word.

The deepness of bass syncing with your heartbeat. Jihoon is facing away from you, propped on his locked hands and gazing at the computer screen. He always closes off to focus on analyzing his tracks. As much as you want to remain silent and follow his lead, you’re convinced you’ve heard the same tune before. Then you recognize it from Jihoon’s humming a week prior.

His tear-strained face after a big argument. You’re shocked to see him so broken, and all the anger that’s been boiling your blood disappears. Jihoon accepts the embrace, his arms closing on you tightly, as he whispers “Don’t argue with me anymore, please. I don’t want you to leave”.

The day you run up the stairs to his apartment. The neighbors nod at you in mute greetings, all offering smaller or bigger smiles. Your fingers quickly put a memorized code in. The front door opens after you press the handle. There’s a pair of slippers already waiting. Jihoon walks into the hallway to welcome you. His hair is still wet from the shower.

The annoyingly omittable grocery store playlists. They’re so subtle in their existence, you hum, but never remember exactly which melody. That is unless that song comes on. Seokmin who’s been pulling the cart from the side, turns to face you with a knowing smile. “Please, not here.” you ask, but Seokmin just turns away and begins singing along. People look, and you’re both extremely embarrassed and eager to listen to his voice more.

Instead of being angry, like you are, he’s sad. Misery written all over his infuriatingly beautiful face. It’s petty to continue attacking him with hurtful words. The ammo you’ve loaded now just a steam coming from na overheated gun. Seokmin doesn’t speak. He’s silent. It’s as if you’re the only one who can decide when will all the arguing end.

Finding a birthday gift a week before. Seokmin is terrible at hiding things meant for you, and although you’re itching to ask him “Your underwear drawer? Really?” you act as if nothing ever happened. Even if your fun was ruined, you do not wish him the same. He genuinely believes your act of surprise later.

Sitting chest to chest, legs around one another, while you’re brushing his hair. He doesn’t shy away from admitting that this tradition is his favorite one. That’s why you run comb through his locks for way too long, to keep him close, and bask in the familiarity of it all. When your eyes fall down, they always catch his big ones, patiently waiting for you to finish, and gift him a kiss.

A surprise backhug when you’re washing the dishes. Seokmin should be drying them off with a towel, but some time ago he abandoned the task, He’s always been quick to lose interest. His head rests on your shoulder, voice impatiently asking when will it be over. You want to laugh at him. Tell him to get back to work. But then again - you’re enjoying the warmth he’s radiating. Like fire in a chimney.

MINGYU

Styling his hair after he has left the shower. Mingyu giggles hysterically as you put finishing touches to his mohawk. “You could be a punk rock guitarist.” his canines come into full display at the comment. Later he tells you to make him a greaser, with a carefully twisted lock of hair falling down his forehead.

A letter he has written when he realized things weren’t completely alright with you at the moment. A collection of words that to you make much more sense than to any other person. The letter itself can’t take the weight off of your shoulders, but the gentleness of his words, the constant encouragement, and the amount of love confessions do give you a new feeling, this time - a good one.

The giddiness when you know you’ll see him a matter of minutes. And as soon as you do, a smile breaks out, because how can it not? His is similar, just as full of warmth as yours. The only things warmer than it are his welcoming embrace and your cheeks rubbing. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long! You’re not late? Well, I was still waiting to see you!”

The warmest and securest of embraces he offers at any time of the day. Mingyu may be busy and still take a moment to hug you when things don’t feel quite right. Just a look, a pout, a sigh, a call of his name, or a hand on his shoulder - Mingyu drops whatever it is he’s doing and opens his arms. Most times, as an added bonus, he offers you quick pecks of pure honey. Anywhere he can reach.

Sneaking hands into one another’s sleeves when the weather is cold. It may not be the smartest move, because there’s not much two adults merged in a pose like that can do. Mingyu giggles at the feeling of your ice cold fingers grabbing his arms, meanwhile almost jumping away from you. Only the hold you have on his limbs stops him from parting ways. “You’re too cold! I didn’t sign up for this!” “You’re supposed to warm my hands, so stop complaining!”

THE8

The warmth of his arm as the two you huddle in front of a painting in the museum. Minghao‘s telling you what he thought of when he saw it for the first time. Then he encourages you to share your opinion. His eyes look genuinely curious. “I didn’t think of it like that!”, but you doubt his words. Still, it feels nice to be appreciated and listened to.

His tendency to fall silent in the middle of argument that does nothing to cease your annoyance. In the back of your mind a voice is telling you that it went too far, and you should follow suit, but the wind’s silence can never extinguish a raging fire. Blinded by rage, you throw the book you were holding on the ground, turn around and storm off, ignoring his voice calling your name. “Stop being childish!” annoys you only more.

The first thing you notice while falling into his arms being his perfume. It’s so rich, and so his, you feel safe and right in place before you can sense the plush of his flesh under fingertips. Minghao giggles at your strengthening grip. His ears pick up on your sniffing and after some time of letting you soak in his presence, he makes you look him in the eyes. You can’t argue - who would reject a kiss of adoration from a man like that?

Sharing a piece of cake in a cafe. It’s a red velvet, with strawberries on the side. There’re no words being exchanged, you just steal small smiles in each other’s direction. The cake disappears slowly, each spoon frugal and shy. It’s not that you can’t afford another one. The cake is an object of sentiment - something shared between two close people.

The delicateness of his fingertip on your upper cheek. It swipes to the side and (sadly) leaves. Minghao’s eyes follow his thumb as he transports a lost eyelash to the front of your lips. “Make a wish.” he says with a gentle smile. Heart fluttering, you struggle to glue together a proper plead. It’s the first dream that came up and you have nothing better to offer. Then you blow the eyelash into the air. Please world, make it happen.

SEUNGKWAN

Trivial words that hurt like a stabbing knife. Now, instead of blood, they’re a source of all-consuming guilt. Even if the argument was mutual, you want to take everything back, because the present feels empty without Seungkwan. Your phone lights up with a message before you can drown yourself in sorrow. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” and tomorrow you hope to see him.

A band-aid that’s turned useless, but cannot be taken off. It’s what remains of Seungkwan’s touch, before he left for work overseas. The material is dirty, and sticking out at ends, and you should just get rid off it, because it’s a stupid reason to hold on to. Yet here you are - just pressing it down every five minutes in silent acceptance.

Poking your head into the hallway. TV is playing in the background, but a singing voice breaks through the noise. You smile in recognition and slowly make your way forward, towards the bathroom door. Seungkwan is in the middle of a shower. Happy to catch him off-guard, you sit down by the wall and listen. No plead is enough to make him sing consciously in your presence.

The melted chocolate you forgot to hide in the fridge. Seungkwan is scowling at his fingertips, sunk in the dark brown smudge. From his eyes alone you can tell he’s about to start scowling you. “Don’t be such a baby! Just go wash them!” He’s about to argue, but you push him out of the kitchen. “We wasted perfectly good chocolate!” We? That’s a first. Although he left, you hear him smacking lips. Seungkwan couldn’t allow the sweets to just waste.

An empty sofa to your side. A soft rug in front of you. Pillows thrown around the room. And yet, you and him are sitting huddled on the armchair, something designed for one (1) user. Seungkwan has his head lying on your shoulder. You’re too engrossed in TV to notice his lack of attention to the show. With passing moments his mouth moves closer to your neck, eyes on your side profile, hands on your hip.

VERNON

Seeing him in a badly sewn beanie that you wouldn’t have given to him if he hadn’t found it in your kitchen cupboard. It’s a mess of unfinished threads and misplaced crosses. Still, Vernon assures you that he loves it. “I look pretty cool in it, right?”, the earnest smile put on display. You look for the signal of a lie, but between the messy fringe, and the perfect pearls on display, you can’t find even a trace of it.

The moment he pulls away for a breather, his eyes hooded, lips swollen. It’s afternoon, though you do not care about the time. You marvel at the shadows, dancing with purple light on his face, but can only take a mental picture. His mouth is quick to return to yours, hands right behind it. The buckle of your belt clings with the button of his jeans.

Standing on a beach during a cold afternoon. The wind plays with whatever it can touch - waves, strands of hair, the lightest grains of sand. Above the howls you can hear Vernon’s breathing. He doesn’t say anything, maybe listening to the same things as you, maybe thinking about the things beyond. But his presence triumphs over the coldness.

The feeling of being watched that pops up randomly. Always with him, always when he’s sure you’re too busy to notice, always without a word spoken, always in your peripheral vision. You can’t tell whether he just gets lost in thoughts or is admiring you, but you never point it out. Others do it for you.

The buzz of adrenaline surging through your veins when he closes the door behind him. He’s mad, but doesn’t use the piece of wood to have the last sound. He rarely raises his voice, never shows anger through strength, never takes it out on the inanimated objects. The observation instantly causes you to miss him. But you can’t decide which feeling you should listen to - fresh anger, or even fresher loneliness.

CHAN

His voice reaching your ears through the phone every night, without a day off. Sometimes it’s tired, sometimes excited, but always there. He protests whenever you tell him to just hang up and go rest. “Don’t you want to talk with me?” “Of course I do. But you sound sleepy.” “Just five more minutes!” A long silence, and then a sigh. “Alright.”

The times when the only source of comfort he accepts is your embrace. You’re lying on the couch, arms opened for his frowning face. Not a full second passes, and he’s placed on top of you, nose in the crook of your neck, hands on your sides, legs digging underneath yours. Questions are avoided with simple I missed you’s.

Collecting tears down his jawline. Offered hug is rejected, but his pushing hands are weak, unsure in their movement. You can read him like a book, though you do not admit that aloud. He wants you to stay and comfort him. Cling to him despite his attempts at rejection. Chan sniffles. This time when your arms circle him, he does nothing to stop them.

The embarrassment you have to bite down. You’re just as flattered, but the latter feeling is much easier to hide. People are watching, some giggling, honestly enjoying the show, some are feeling for the position you’re put in. Chan is still smiling widely, his pupils full of adoration. Too scared to do anything else, you decide to hide in his arms, already opened for an embrace. He’s the best type of both lovely and shameless.

Skipping down the stone stairs hand in hand. The rain has made a prompt run to shelter out of your slow afternoon walk. Suddenly, you can feel his fingers pulling at yours. Not down the stairs, but to his side. Chan slips. It’s a split second, somehow long enough to push heart up your throat. He manages to lean on the other leg to regain balance. Again, for a moment. Chan jumps down the last few stairs, straight into a puddle of rain water, successfully spraying you with the small tidal wave created from the impact. “I’m sorry!” but he laughs, so is he really?

➛ pollenat’s list of reactions

➛ pollenat’s list of shorts

#yes i made another 5 ways to say i love you and what about it?#seventeen fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen reactions #svt fanfic #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt reactions #kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop fluff #kpop reactions

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Christmas Specials: Jake and Kauri

Honestly, this is mostly just some genuinely sharp pining and yearning.

“Merry Christmas.”

The box, small and light, drops onto the kitchen table with a sound more like a tap than a thud. Jake blinks down at it, cheerfully wrapped in a bright cacophony of rainbow colors in vaguely ornament-like shapes. Jake sets his coffee mug slowly down, steam curling up into the air, particles of dust briefly visible floating through the beams of early morning light.

Kauri hasn’t slept, and it’s clear - his hair is still mussed, he’s wearing clothes from the night before, that particular look of shadowed satisfaction he has after a night well-wasted. Red-rimmed eyes and the slightest wince at the sun coming in through the curtains, and still… still, he’s Kauri, and Jake’s glad to see him.

“Not Christmas yet,” Jake offers, carefully casual. If his eyes are on Kauri’s too long, neither one of them mention it. Kauri smells like cigarette smoke and another man’s cologne, and he doesn’t smoke so Jake knows that means he’s been with someone who does. “You’re up early, Kaur.”

“At what point,” Kauri asks, with the air of a philosopher posing a question for the ages, “Does it stop being up late and begins being up early?”

“When it’s 7 o’clock in the fucking morning, you’re pretty safely at up early. What brought you by?”

Kauri shrugs, pouring himself a cup of coffee. The house creaks around them, ancient bones settling into the foundation. There’s the telltale squeak of the spot just outside the bathroom door, and then the sound of water rushing through pipes. Chris, in the shower, Jake thinks. Antoni steps around the spot on the floor that squeaks. Leila moved out, and they haven’t gotten anyone new for her old room yet.

“I just decided to,” Kauri says, yawning, and something about the way his eyes close makes him look like a sleepy kitten, rumpled and ready to simply list to the side until he collapses. “Had this to give you.”

“I have something for you, too, but I haven’t wrapped it.”

Kauri blinks, pouring peppermint mocha creamer into the coffee cup and topping it off with plain milk. He turns and leans back against the counter, sipping, and the way he smiles a little at the taste of the coffee makes Jake’s chest twist in an anxiety he can name but can’t afford to linger on. “You got me a present?”

Kauri sounds so fucking surprised that it hurts.

Do you really think so little of yourself?

“Of course I did. So did Chris, and Nat, and Antoni.”

Kauri lets out his breath, disbelieving, shaking his head with a half-grin. “I don’t know why. I can’t have anything that doesn’t fit in my backpack.”

“I mean, you could stay-”

“No.” Kauri cuts him off. “No. I can’t.”

“Fair. But I think everyone got you stuff that you can carry with you easy. Plus I think Nat got Keira something, but don’t ask me what. What you buy for a fucking Roomba is beyond me.” Jake watches the way Kauri relaxes back into the easy joking, the more sensitive minefield of simply being cared for avoided for now. “I’ll be right back, then we can exchange, yeah? Just us, first.”

“Yeah.” Kauri gives him that cockeyed grin again, turns to look out the window. The sky is a riot of purples and pinks as the sun slowly rises on a California December. The only change is that it’ll start raining soon, and Kauri wears a sweater sometimes.

Jake pushes himself to his feet, ducking his head as usual to avoid knocking it on the top of the doorframe, heading up the stairs with the solid creaks from the old steps that are as much a part of the house as the pictures Nat keeps on the wall. Chris meets him coming out of the shower, towel-drying his longish hair - he’s growing it out, he says, and it has the slightest curl against the back of his neck and under his ears - and wearing all his clothes already.

With some of the rescues, it’s a sign they still didn’t feel safe, when they took all their clothes into the bathroom and never let their skin be seen. With Chris, as with most Romantics, it’s the opposite. He feels safe enough to know he can make himself comfortable any way he wants. Not feeling like he needs to show skin is a sign of security for him.

“Hey, hey Jake,” Chris says, one green eye covered by the pastel purple towel. “Did, did I hear you, um, you talking to, to-... is, is breakfast-”

“Can you chill up here for a sec?” Jake interrupts him, voice pitched low. At Chris’s confusion, he says softly, “I just… want to do something. Give me ten minutes, yeah? Then I’ll start on breakfast and you can come down.”

“Um, oh-okay,” Chris says, frowning, but he slips into the room he shares with Antoni, and Jake heads for his own room, digging out Kauri’s gift from underneath a carefully arranged pile of basically trash papers in his desk drawer. Hidden, like Kauri was a kid who still believed in Santa.

Hidden, like Jake didn’t want to explain what he did to anyone but Kauri, and definitely didn’t want to explain why.

He heads back downstairs with the gift carefully slipped into his back pocket, unseen until he wants Kauri to know. Ducks his head again - and Jake has been ducking to avoid doorframes since he was sixteen, he thinks, or eighteen maybe - and finds Kauri right where he left him, still sipping his coffee, lost in thought.

Warm gold light edges his mussed-up black curls, sets off the blue of his eyes when he turns to look at Jake. Lights his smile a little, too. Jake’s eyes catch the barest hint of a flash of bare skin at his stomach, where shirt hem and low-slung jeans meet.

“Want to do yours first?” Jake asks, and his voice sounds airy to him, but Kauri doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nah. You open yours, then I’ll do mine.” Kauri gives a smooth shrug, effortlessly graceful. Or maybe it hadn’t been effortless, before it’d been beaten into him until he couldn’t be anything else.

Jake nods, slowly, and sits down, carefully shifting his weight not to put any on the phone, and takes the box in hand. He rips open a seam very slowly and shifts the box out, then folds the wrapping paper and sets it to the side.

He catches Kauri watching him, eyebrows furrowed again and glances up.

“Why-... why didn’t you just tear it?” Kauri points at the folded square, as neat as origami. “Why did you do that? It’s like 15 cents of paper.”

Jake shrugs, running his fingers over the smooth, plain brown box the size of his palm, mostly flat. “We always saved wrapping paper to use the next year, when I was a kid. It’s just a habit, guess I never lost it. What’s in here?”

“Open the box and see.” Kauri holds his mug in both hands, giving him a pleased little smile, and not for the first time, Jake thinks, if I’d met you any other way…

He opens the box. Inside, there’s three gift cards, slightly shiny, and Jake looks each one over, blinking, before he looks up. “This is… the Mitchells Center downtown, the Blue Martini, and… Holden’s Harbor… Kauri, this is-... what is this?”

“A date.” Kauri bites down on his lower lip, looking at Jake over his mug, and his eyes are sparkling bright. Jake almost opens his mouth to say, I’m so sorry, we can’t do that, we just can’t, when Kauri quickly adds, “For you and Addie.”

Jake’s protest dies, unspoken. “For… for Addie?”

“Yeah. You’ve been talking for months about saving up for a big anniversary thing, and then, you know, I heard you say you were giving Nat a bunch of your money when the pipe burst and the basement flooded, so…” He shrug, again. “I didn’t want you to miss out on your date. And I remembered you said she likes that bar, the Blue Martini, I know the bartender there-”

You know everyone, everywhere.

“-so he’s gonna give you drinks half-price, just tell me the night and I’ll let him know. Then Holden’s Harbor, that’s the big one, but I’m friends with a waiter and the hostess is going to give you a table that looks over the Bay, she’s fun, I partied with her a few week ago. And then… the Mitchells Center is doing Hadestown, and you said that’s Addie’s big thing right now. So. Happy anniversary.”

Jake is, for a moment, utterly speechless. “Kauri this is like-... three hundred dollars of-... you can’t possibly-”

“Four. But don’t worry about it. I had a bunch of really good weeks a couple months ago and I don’t spend much money, anyway. Is it good? Do you think?”

Jake just stares at the gift cards for a second, swallowing around a lump in his throat, a tightening threatening to take his voice. “It’s, um.” His voice cracks a little and he has to clear his throat to recover it. “It’s amazing, Kaur. Thank you. Um… like I said, I didn’t have time to wrap it, but…” He pulls the gift out of his back pocket and lays it out on the table between them.

Kauri steps forward, setting his mug down. “What-... a new phone? Thanks, I-”

“Yeah, but, um, that’s not what’s important. Just…” Jake picks the phone up, and it feels like such a dumb thing, now, what he did, but he powers through it. The phone isn’t locked yet, and it’s easy to pull up the apps and folders, select one, and open it up. He slides the phone closer. “Pick one of those, and click it.”

Kauri looks down, and Jake looks with him. It’s a file folder open to a bunch of sound files, each one labeled with an emoji rather than words. A heart, a broken heart, a smile, a sad face. A gravestone. A tree. A cat.

His finger hovers, and then taps deliberately over the heart. A line of options pops up, each one punctuated with new emojis. The one Kauri picks is marked with a face that has blue eyes and black hair, a leaf, and a flower.

“I swear,” A voice - Jake’s voice - comes out of the phone’s speaker, “since seeing Your face, the whole world is fraud and fantasy. The garden is bewildered as to what is leaf or blossom. The distracted birds can’t distinguish the birdseed from the snare.”

“What is this?” Kauri’s voice is hushed, and uncertain. He almost sounds scared. But he doesn’t stop the recording.

“A house of love with no limits,” The voice continues, “A presence more beautiful than Venus or the moon. A beauty whose image fills the mirror of the heart. The Divani Shamsi Tabriz XV.”

Jake clears his throat again. “That’s, um, Rumi.”

Kauri’s breath catches in his throat, and he looks for a second like he’ll pick another choice, then pulls his hand back, looking up at Jake wide-eyed. “You… recorded poetry? For my Christmas present?”

“Yeah.” Jake licks at his lips, his heart pounding for reasons he can’t really explain to himself, or maybe just doesn’t want to. “You, um, you quote-... you quote shit all the time, so I started looking it up, and it’s almost always… poetry. So I figured, maybe, um, maybe-... you liked that shit, you know? And you shouldn’t have to… not get it, just because you can’t read yet. So I recorded, um, like… two hundred poems or something?”

Kauri opens his mouth to speak, closes it again.

“Oh my God,” is all he says. His voice cracks.

Jake’s chest twists, nervous, he finds himself tapping his foot on the floor, twisting fingers into his pajama pants.

Kauri leans over and pushes another poem, in a sudden burst of movement like he wants to stop himself and can’t. “Sometimes, I think you get the worst of me.” Jake’s voice is softer on this poem, and it’s uncomfortable listening to himself read this. Why did Kauri choose the love poems? “The much-loved loose forest-green sweatpants, the long bra-less days, hair knotted and uncivilized, a shadowed brow where the devilish thoughts do their hoofed dance on the brain.”

“This is Ada Limon,” Kauri whispers.

“I’d like to say this means I love you, the stained white cotton T-shirt, the tears, pistachio shells, the mess of orange peels on my desk, but it’s different than that. I move in this house with you, the way I move in my mind, unencumbered by beauty’s cage.”

“You, uh, mentioned her one day when Nat was listening to NPR-”

“Ssshhhh,” Kauri says, holding up a hand, as Jake’s recorded voice keeps reading.

“I do like I do in the tall grass, more animal-me than much else. I’m wrong, it is that I love you, but it’s more that when you say it back, lights out, a cold wind through curtains, for maybe the first time in my life, I believe it. Ada Limon, Love Poem With Apologies for My Appearance.”

There’s a long silence broken only by Kauri’s harsh breathing, and Jake watches tears build in his wide blue eyes. He’s done something wrong, somehow. It had seemed like a good gift but he’s ruined it, somehow it wasn’t right at all, it wasn’t-

“Thank you, this is-... this is amazing,” Kauri says. Barely words. More just a breath.

Some part of Jake had been tense and coiled to turn in on himself in anger. That part, at the words, relaxes. “You’re welcome. Is it-... is it good, or…”

“You, um-... you fucking heard, some shit I said, and you-... got me something, I just...” Kauri’s hands move nervously, over himself and over the back of the chair, to the phone, back up to his hair. He meets Jake’s eyes, and his brim with tears and Jake feels his own heating up in response. “You just… I, I don’t-... no one’s ever done anything like this for me.”

“Really?”

“I m-mean, not that I know of anyway.” The joke falls flat, Kauri’s voice is too full of tears. Kauri picks up the phone like it’s a precious object that might shatter or disappear, holds it with reverent hands. Swallows and looks at Jake like he’s seeing him for the first time. “I didn’t-... know you listened to me so much.”

“‘Course I do. Merry Christmas,” Jake says, voice maybe a little thick, buried in the things they don’t say to each other. “Merry Christmas, Kauri.”

Kauri pours himself another cup of coffee, and Jake lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding at the sign that Kauri will stay a little longer.

With his back to Jake and the phone still clutched in one hand, Kauri says, “Merry Christmas, Jake.”

They both pretend that Kauri’s voice isn’t shaking.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

#christmas specials #original fiction #pining #yearning #angsty fluff #whump #whump oc anyway #erase to control #jake the shelter guy

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96dys · 3 years

Text

hydrangea ; johnny seo

money makes the world turn. there was so much of it, and yet so few people ever saw it. maybe if it weren’t for the money, johnny might have acted differently. maybe his family’s badgering wouldn’t have weighed on him as much as it did. maybe he wouldn’t have taken you, because finding a wife this way wouldn’t have mattered. he didn’t like the circumstance, but he couldn’t keep himself from liking you—the dirt-poor girl who worried more about helping others than feeding herself.

ceo au

taglist: @tyongpoetry @xianxian95 @aaaaalex05

masterlist

02 | little prince

eating breakfast alone wasn't something that was very new to you, though it wasn't often that you were able to eat breakfast, let alone something this size. your stomach had begun to ache just looking at the size of the plate in front of you, but your eyes lit up in awe of the colorful array of fruits. of course, they were accompanied by an alarming amount of vitamins and supplements, just as you'd been asked to take the previous day. a glass of water was provided to help you wash it all down, which you gladly sipped on between bites.

for the sake of getting out of your bedroom, you'd asked to have your meal in the common area, though you did your best to keep yourself just as isolated. you sat with your legs crossed in front of the coffee table, mindful of the way the skirt of your pale pink dress fell upon your lap. despite being alone, you couldn't help but feel as though you were being watched at all times. the door was open but a crack, just enough for you to see staff members pass through the narrow hallway. the curtains had been pulled open, allowing the bright sunshine to wash over your figure. a peaceful silence filled the air, something you were especially fond of. jisung was very kind, but you weren't sure you'd be able to handle any more of his mindless chatter after this morning.

of course, he had offered to keep you company while you dined, but you were very quick to decline. as hard as you tried, you were unable to hide your haste, for he had just spent almost an hour talking your ear off about the most random details of the wedding to come in just two days. it had gotten to the point where you stopped trying to decide which information was important and what was not in favor of blocking it all out entirely. even as you stood under the warm stream of water flowing from the showerhead above, you could hear him muttering things to himself as he tidied up your bedroom. you most imagined this behavior was due to growing up without the presence of others his age--if anyone at all. while you did feel sympathetic toward the boy, you weren't used to the constant noise.

your previous life was fairly quiet, even at the tiny, makeshift school where you had spent all of your free time. there was always the odd occasion where a child or two would be exceptionally talkative, though most of the time the children were too malnourished to have the energy. it was a struggle to get the group to participate much at all, let alone speak amongst themselves. you tried your best to encourage your pupils to make friends with one another, but this wasn't something that was accepted with open arms. you couldn't even find it in yourself to be upset at them for this, given that your brother had been your only friend growing up; it was this way for most people you knew.

after a long day at the school, you would go home to an empty home. it was tiny and everything seemed to be falling apart, but it gave you a private space to unwind as much as you possibly could. you never cared to invite anyone over, nor did you have anyone to visit. it was lonely at first, but after a while the silence became very calming. perhaps this was because it was the only constant in your life; the only thing that would be waiting for you at home without fail. a meal was not always promised, nor was a new book to read, but there would always be a heavy silence ready to envelope you as you drifted off each night.

looking down at your plate, you noticed that it was nearly empty. oh how you wished your brother was there to fight you over what remained, like he used to when he was too young to understand how little your family truly had to go around. unless you finished your food with incredible speed, he would begin whining about how hungry he was, about how you needed to share with him. you would always shoot him a glare and questioned why he deserved to eat more than you did, which would only result in the little boy pinching the tender skin around your ankles. as you cried out in pain, he would quickly grab at the food resting atop your lap., smiling to himself as he bit into your food. this wasn't something you ever imagined yourself missing, although the change in circumstance caused the memory to become very fond.

after having your entire life uprooted against your will, you've found that many of the things you used to find so unpleasant have been on your mind. this was especially conflicting, as none of these were things you had to deal with within recent years. it almost made you sad to realize that there was nothing to your life that was worth missing; everything you cared for had been ripped from your fingers the moment all of your family members were gone. you longed not for the days you spent as an adult, but the miserable nights you spent as a child begging your father to stop yelling at you over whichever minor inconvenience had stressed him out that time.

perhaps the anger you felt toward your current situation was purely out of spite, though this only caused your heart to sink a little further down into your chest. was your life of so little meaning that you couldn't find a good reason to continue to be hateful? did you have so little back home that this new setting seemed only a little less than pleasant? the change was beyond unfair, yet you could only sigh knowing that you were likely better off here anyway. you wanted to do more--to lash out in anger, fear, or something--but you just couldn't.

a light knock floated through the air, causing you to dart your head toward the door. it had been pushed open, allowing johnny to lean against the frame. he was smiling down at you, like he was genuinely happy to see you a second time. your eyes widened ever so slightly, just enough to make him chuckle. you had been doubting his promise to make time for you everyday, so his presence came as a bit of a surprise. in all honesty, you figured that work would come first, making you an afterthought for him to tend to at the end of the day, but he was as early as he possibly could be without having interrupted your meal. it was as though he couldn't wait.

"i'm really glad to see that you've eaten," he spoke happily, glancing at your plate for a moment before returning his gaze toward your face. he could tell that you'd taken all of your vitamins as well, which made his smile widen just a bit. a wave of joy washed over him momentarily, knowing that you felt comfortable enough to do so without any resistance. he made a mental note to send someone to clean up the remains of your meal, though it wasn't like you had left much of a mess at all. "we don't have to leave now, but i'm ready whenever you are. i don't mind waiting in here for a little while if that's what you want to do."

you set your fork down on the edge of your plate and shook your head. there was nothing left for you to do here and therefore no reason to stay. standing up was a very slow process, as you had to be very cautious in your dress, but it felt nice to stretch your legs once you were able to do so. it was no surprise that you were fatigued already, but you hoped it wasn't very obvious to the man in front of you. he seemed unfazed, so you assumed he was unable to tell.

"please tell me there's less walking this time," you muttered, mostly to yourself.

johnny laughed in response as he took a step to the side, allowing you to pass through the doorway. it wasn't hard to fall in time with your lazy footsteps, yet continuing to keep your pace posed a bit of a challenge for someone with such long legs. he did his best, though he wound up a few steps ahead within a minute flat.

he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a white plastic card. he waved it around for a moment before returning it to its spot, smirking down at you.

"it's your lucky day; being with me means you get to use the elevator and not the stairs."

an elevator. you were unable to form a proper response. of course, you'd read about such a thing in a few of your old books, though you had yet to use one yourself. it wasn't very often you ever entered a building with two stories, let alone enough to warrant the installation of an elevator. you wondered why the little card was relevant, only to conclude a few moments later that it must be some sort of a key. then, you wondered why it would be restricted. if you were able to use the stairs without issue, what was the purpose of deeming the elevator off limits? if they accomplished the same thing, you would get to your intended destination regardless. maybe he felt that blocking off the stairs wasn't needed, given the likeliness of you getting lost before making it anywhere important.

for a brief minute or so, you found yourself feeling less than adequate. it wasn't that you felt an overwhelming need to impress anyone here, but it was quickly becoming evident that you truly knew so much less than he did. the rational part of your brain knew that there was no one to blame for this, and yet you couldn't help but think that you should've taken it upon yourself to learn more. just knowing how to read as fluently as you did was a feat in and of itself, but the accomplishment seemed meaningless in comparison to all the things you did not know. you didn't even want to think about how poor your math skills had to be next to his.

much to your surprise, it didn't take very long to reach the elevator either. you both stopped in front of two metal doors, causing you to stare curiously as he swiped the little card. you bit back a gasp as they pulled apart. when you were rushed down to the garden yesterday, you had assumed that these doors were different solely for decoration. remembering that johnny works in technology, you didn't feel that it would be very off to assume that he would have more of a futuristic sense of style. stepping into the little room though, you realized that this made much more sense.

each wall was mirrored, causing you to become lost in your reflection as the doors came to a close. you could see johnny press a button on the large panel to his right, though you failed to focus your attention on the action itself. you didn't bother to wrack your brain trying to figure out how the elevator began to move on its own just a few seconds later, as you were so entranced by the couple that stood before you. you were already well aware of the height difference, since it was so hard to ignore during a conversation with the man, but it was so much more interesting to see the both of you side by side. he looked like a giant standing next to your small frame.

his eyes met yours through the mirror, causing you to quickly look away. he only smiled at your response, waiting but a second more for the elevator to come to a stop at the correct floor. as the large doors slid open, he gestured for you to step out first. he wasn't worried about there being any trouble finding the library, as it was located directly across the hall. this in mind, he allowed you to lead the way, which you seemed more than happy to do.

he thought it was cute how your steps became so much lighter once the open doorway was in sight, how your eyes seemed to light up upon entering the large room. he watched as you stopped a few steps into the library, examining your features as you looked around. while he had been expecting a positive response, you surely didn't disappoint. your jaw was nearly on the floor as eyes the size of saucers scanned the maze of bookshelves.

just past the entrance was an area that resembled the common area; a large sofa sat opposite the door, which was paralleled by a coffee table of equal length. there was a chair positioned on either side, though the fourth side was left open. the furniture sat atop a beautiful floral rug, which distracted from the dull navy carpeting the rest of the room had been floored with. there were rows upon rows of shelves on the three sides in question, rows that seemed to go on for miles.

"a's start just to the right over there, i think," his voice rung in your ear, snapping you out of the book-induced trance you'd fallen into. he pointed in the general direction you needed to go, which was all the permission you needed to begin walking. you were too excited to respond, so you simply allowed him to follow your fast paced footsteps as you began searching for the book you wished to read.

you'd never seen so many books in your life, let alone all at once. your heart did jumping jacks in your chest at the realization that you could never possibly be bored here. maybe every storm cloud does have a silver lining. no matter how unhappy you might become in the future, you were certain that you would never run out of books to take your mind away from the world. you couldn't wait to get lost in each and every one.

"are you looking for anything specific?"

you could easily make out the curiosity woven into every word. his fancy shoes made a dull click clack noise against the thin carpet, the sound trailing behind you. it didn't sound like he was making an effort to match your swift pace, but then again, he didn't have to. his legs were so long, you knew he could easily match your fastest sprint with a brisk walk if he ever decided to try.

"no."

yes.

once you finally reached the aisle you were looking for, your eyes lit up. the section marked 's' was very large, but you were quick to find what you were looking for. given the letter combination, saint-exupéry happened to be toward the beginning of the section. however, it was out of your reach. even standing on the very tips of your toes, every book on the top shelf was just out of reach. sighing to yourself, you fell back on your heels.

"which one?" johnny asked, causing you to quickly turn your head.

you had been so lost in thought that the sound of his voice startled you, but his close proximity was even more surprising. there was maybe two inches between the both of you. his steady breaths felt warm against your neck even after you turned away. flustered, it took you a moment to respond. regardless of your feelings toward him, no man had ever been so close to you before; you weren't sure how to react.

"uh, it's on the top right there—the little prince," you answered finally. your voice came out a soft mumble.

he reached over your head and easily pulled your book away from the others. you assumed this was why he'd gotten so close, and you were correct. the moment he passed the book on to you was the moment he took two steps back. regardless, this did nothing to stifle the heat burning in your cheeks.

in an attempt to ignore it, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the lounge. he walked beside you now, most likely because he had a very good idea of where you were going. there was no reason to follow you around like a lost puppy otherwise.

"why that book?" he wondered aloud.

there was a part of his brain that worried that the question was a bit too personal, but he couldn't help himself. after watching you move through the library at such a fast pace, he had to ask. you were nearly jogging; that book had to be extremely significant to you for one reason or another. glancing down at you, he noticed that you couldn't take you eyes off of the cover.

"um..."

you allowed the sentence to fizzle out, unsure of how to begin, or if you even wanted to at all. having been pulled away from your past life, you hadn't decided whether you wanted to talk about it with anyone. you didn't have much of a story to tell, yet it still felt like something you should lock away entirely. though you didn't truly understand why, you dreaded the thought of letting anyone here get to know you. whether this was because they were undeserving or because acknowledging your past life made this one real, you didn't know.

weaving through the seemingly endless aisles, you allowed you gaze to fall upon the book again.

your brother was a bright young boy, almost too smart for his own good. he never tried to be a troublemaker—not the kind you felt the need to raise your guard around anyway—but he would risk anything to stimulate his mind. if he didn't have a book to stick his head into or a math subject to teach himself he fell into a painful state of boredom. he couldn't stand being bored; you remembered him declaring once before that not doing anything productive made him feel like his brain was rotting from the inside out.

"it's only a matter of time before it starts dripping out of my ears," he used to say.

to this day, you were able to recall in great detail the first time he got himself into trouble with your parents. he managed to drag you down with him without even trying to; your parents found you guilty before you even opened your mouth. all over a stupid book.

"it's not like he can even read it!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

while his intellect surpassed even the adults in your life, his age was really showing. just like any thirteen year old boy, he felt that your parents were just overreacting; that what he'd done surely didn't warrant this kind of response. after all, it wasn't like he'd truly hurt anyone. even if he really did want to, you knew he didn't have it in him. much like yours, his attacks were never physical, only verbal.

to an extent, you agreed with him. the law wasn't really enforced unless you had the money to make people care about your problems, so you doubted he would get into any real trouble. the most that could happen outside of the home would be some kind of beating from the people he'd stolen from, but you doubted they would even notice its absence. however, watching this situation unfold had begun to give you a headache and for that reason alone you felt he deserved to be punished. "you still stole it," your father shot back.

he stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest. your father was a short man, but he still managed to make himself look intimidating when he saw fit. his actions helped greatly; he had the tendency to raise his voice when things didn't go his way, or allow his eyes to narrow into a glare that would tear through anyone in his path. sometimes you hated him for being this way, but deep down you knew it wasn't his fault. working such long days with almost nothing in return was enough to drive any man crazy.

your mother though... you looked to your mother and saw nothing but disappointment painted across her face as she held the book in her hands. you frowned. for the first time in a very long time, you witnessed her express something other than exhaustion. she was so kind and caring, but she was empty. everyday was a constant fight to keep her family afloat through high tides and thunderstorms, but over the years the tiny raft she'd woven for those she loved most broke apart piece by piece. everyday you watched a tiny piece of her float far far away right along with it.

"how could you let this happen?"

you quickly averted your attention toward your father, your eyes widening as a wave of shock wracked your body. he glared down at you, but you didn't really understand why; you hadn't done anything wrong. and so you said nothing. instead, you nervously pulled at the hem of your shirt, wishing this would all go away. but this wasn't good enough. when you failed to respond, he only rose his voice even more. he pointed his finger at you accusingly, like you'd gone out and committed the crime yourself.

"you were supposed to be watching him! it's not like you have anything else to do. you don't work, can't go to school—what could you possibly have been doing that was more important than making sure your brother stayed safe at home?"

it was then that you began to cry. tears flowed down your cheeks in rivers as you tried so hard not to start hyperventilating. you never took criticism well—not when it was far from constructive. it felt like he had lunged at your throat and your windpipe was beginning to crack under the pressure. if he kept at it, you were certain you wouldn't be able to handle it at any capacity.

you refused to respond. what was the point in trying if your father wasn't even going to try to understand? how were you going to tell him that your idiot brother had managed to sneak out because you spent the day asleep on the cold, hard floor? how were you going to explain that you were so tired, that your body was so physically exhausted that there were periods of time where you were unable to stay awake during the day?

you couldn't, not when everyone else struggled just as hard as you did. you could already imagine his response, something about how he works himself to the bone and still manages to stay awake.

it was pointless.

you thought you were never going to be able to forgive your brother for that day. that night, when you were certain the rest of your family had fallen asleep, you picked the book up off of the floor where your mother had left it. it shouldn't be there; your brother shouldn't get the pleasure of reading it.

so you hid it. you remembered having to be so careful as you moved the heavy water pot, struggling to keep quiet as the lid began to gently crash into the rim. you then lifted up the broken floorboard beneath it and placed the book inside of the small opening before repositioning everything. that night, you laid next to your brother feeling content with your actions, yet no more happy overall.

for so many years, you avoided that book just as much as you did the negative memory associated with it, but after your family passed, something changed. it didn't feel like something you wanted to distance yourself from anymore, but rather something you wanted to hold close to your heart.

the first thing you did once the body collection team cleared your home was rush to the water pot. you were so hasty in trying to move it that it tipped over in the process, spilling what tiny bit of water was left all over your thighs. but holding that book in your hands, it didn't matter. there was a tiny piece of your brother you had yet to familiarize yourself with and you so desperately needed to. it felt like it was all you had left of him. for almost a month you read the book time and time again until the tears stopped; by then you had memorized the entire story word for word.

the little prince.

"someone that i used to know was really interested in it, that's all," you said finally.

you were too stuck inside your own head to notice how much time had passed, but by that point you'd reached the lounge already. the couch closest to you suddenly seemed very inviting, so much that you quickly sat down in the middle. your mind was still a bit too far away to realize what you'd done, but by that point it was too late.

johnny was left to seat himself on your right. much like before, this left very little space between the two of you. this got your attention immediately. your cheeks burned red hot as he rested his arm atop the edge of the couch behind you.

"would you mind if i read it?"

too stunned to form a proper sentence, you merely nodded and placed the book on his lap. when you took the quickest look up at him, you saw that he was smiling. it was a genuine smile, not one of those smug smirks you'd seen once or twice before. staring toward your lap now, you could see him using his free hand to quickly flip to page one.

oh. he was going to read it to you.

"you don't have to do all that," you quickly spoke up.

you did your best not to come across as rude. in reality though, you weren't sure whether or not you should've said anything at all. you had yet to decide if you were uncomfortable with someone like johnny making himself part of something so sacred, or if you were angry at yourself for letting his close proximity make you so flustered. no matter how much you tried though, you couldn't help it. it would've been this way with any boy, you told yourself, but the fact that it had to be him was so, so irritating.

the brunette scoffed lightly.

"you think i don't care enough to get to know you?" he quirked an eyebrow at you, only resulting in your gaze being averted elsewhere. a moment went by as he awaited a response that never came. "i don't want to be strangers; i want to know things about you. i think it's premature to say that things are most definitely going to be real between the two of us, but i would like to try, if you'd let me. at the very least i want to get to know you as a person. if this book is something you're into, i want to read it."

he watched as your eyes fell upon the open page. as hard as he tried, he couldn't make out the expression contorting your features. somewhere deep in his being he was hopeful you were considering what he said, though he knew not to get his hopes up. while he understood why you would do so, the idea of being wed to someone who refused to keep him any closer than arms length made him sad. while he despised it, it happened to be the normalcy and there was nothing he was able to do about it.

almost pleading with you, he quietly added, "for me? you can sleep for all i care; just entertain me for the rest of the hour, please."

very hesitantly, you nodded and allowed him to wrap his arm around your shoulders. he then pulled you close, causing your breath to catch in your throat for a moment. never before had you been held this way, nor had you witnessed your mother in such a position; this type of intimacy was something you'd only ever encountered in the few fairytales you'd been able to read in your youth.

as he began to read in that oh so soft tone, you found yourself lost in thought. the more you tried to think of an occurrence where this scenario had been normalized during your childhood, the less you were able to come up with. it would be humorous to call what you were required to have with johnny love, and yet it was likely the closest you would ever come to such a thing in your life time. marriage was more out of necessity than anything, you had come to realize--especially for women. each person was allowed to interpret societal norms however they so chose, though you felt that marriage offered women a degree of safety that living alone was unable to, while men were given sex and children in exchange. in all your years, you had yet to come across a couple that seemed to truly love one another beyond this platonic agreement.

having been a woman that had grown used to living alone, you understood the need for a man in the house. it wasn't that you were very strong on ancient gender roles, but that you had been forced to live with such extreme anxiety at all times. what few policemen there were didn't care about any crime that didn't have the potential to pad their pockets, so young women were often assaulted late at night on the lookout for whatever scraps of food they might be able to find and eat. even going out during the day made you nervous at times, depending on who was in sight. you'd even made a mental catalogue of which neighbors seemed especially sketchy and why, as you had learned not to trust anyone. living seemed to become extremely dangerous after your father passed away.

your eyes began to flutter closed as his low voice hung in your ear. being endlessly tired was not something that was new to you, for each and every day you felt as though you could sleep for hours and wake up feeling like your limbs were packed full of sand. the man beside you wasn't helping either; the steady sound of his heartbeat was the perfect backdrop to your thoughts. perhaps he noticed, though you couldn't be bothered to open your eyes in order to check. instead, you allowed him to slowly brush his palm over your head, almost as if he was petting you. it was endearing in a way, though you would never say so out loud.

counting down the days, you realized there weren't too many left until the wedding to come. jisung had brought it up earlier, but the subject matter made you uneasy, so you did your best to tune it out, just as you did the rest of his blather. normally you soak up information like a sponge, but the young boy had begun to babble about who all he thought was attending, which wasn't something you cared to know. the thought of being trapped in a room with at least half of the world's most wealthy made a knot tie itself oh so tight within your stomach. not because you felt the need to impress any of these people, but because you had spent your entire life drowning in poverty while these people had very little to worry about. your main concern was finding a way to keep from choking one of them to death on your way down the aisle.

on top of that, it sounded as if the majority of the relatives that were to be in attendance didn't like the idea of your marriage in general. jisung had recalled chatting with a young servant named yeri over lunch, who apparently dealt with all of the invitations. he relayed that she was tasked with calling each household personally, so she was able to get a feel of how they had received the news. as he ran the brush through your wild locks, he snickered and told you not to worry about johnny's family, as she told him that over half of those she spoke with sounded very irritated.

"i think it's about the money, honestly," he'd laughed. his slender fingers then wove themselves through your hair, parting it in three at the nape of your neck. "that's really weird to think about, isn't it? maybe i've just been poor for so long that money doesn't really seem like something to pine over, but i think it's kind of ridiculous when people that have more money than i'll ever know what to do with are so upset that they're not able to come into more of it.'

in a way, you thought the boy was right. while you felt that greed was almost amusing coming from those who already have a great deal of money, you understood the need to pine over it. you couldn't even count the amount of times you had gone to bed hungry, as well as had to function starving the next day. even just a few dollars would've been able to keep you fed, even if only for the smallest period of time. maybe the issue wasn't that jisung had been poor for so long, but that he had all of his needs met for such a long while. in all honesty, you understood the want to fight tooth and nail for every dollar that came your way, as much as it pained you to admit.

suddenly, you felt johnny's chest move beneath you, quickly rising and falling as a gentle chuckle escaped his lips. even still, you pretended to be asleep.

"what's wrong?" he questioned, nudging you slightly. "you're gonna give yourself wrinkles or something."

you swore under your breathe. your features relaxed then. every crease in your forehead slowly evened out, then the rest of your face fell in line too. it wasn't something that you'd done consciously, though you did understand why he would question such a thing. you weren't entirely sure what it must've looked like, but judging from his reaction, you were likely pouting like a child.

"how long until we have to get married?" you asked, peeling both of your eyes open.

"two days," he responded simply.

looking at the book in his lap, you noticed that he had gotten through a handful of pages. telling time had never been something you were very good at, but you guessed it had been at least ten or fifteen minutes since he had began. that was the beauty of being lost inside your head, you thought. you were free from the confinement of time, as it mattered very little when you had other things popping out of every little nook and cranny your brain had to offer. there was always something new to dissect and pick apart without having to worry about how much time you were wasting. it was nice, especially when wasting your time with him meant he was unable to bother you for very long.

instead of awaiting a response he knew would never come, he simply joked, "why, are you excited?"

"i'm thinking," you said, turning to look up at him.

you weren't sure if you wanted to continue. you weren't sure if you wanted to let him in, to let him know what was on your mind. there was a lot on your mind. the thought of being kept here forever with no one to talk to on a deeper level than the gossip jisung liked to bring to your vanity made you sad, though it wasn't like you were having very deep conversations with the kindergarteners you taught back home. however, the brunette's actions irritated you to no end. you were afraid that letting him in would mean to let go of what he had done, which wasn't something that you were ready to do yet. you weren't sure it would ever be something you were going to do.

the hardest part to grasp was that jisung had been right; as much as you wanted to hate the man for his means of getting you there, you would never be able to hate him for putting clothes on your body and food in your mouth. thinking back to the large breakfast you had woken up to that morning, you frowned. you tried and tried, but you couldn't be upset about that. sighing to yourself, you finally came to terms with the fact that finding comfort in another person wouldn't be so terrible, since you were unable to go anywhere else. it was a given that you would be exceptionally picky with what information you felt he was worthy of having access to, but baby steps wouldn't hurt.

however, you really did like his nervousness, at least in the sense that he knew better than to pry. he waited silently for you to continue, still absentmindedly petting the top of your head. he had been timid about such an action at first, but once he realized you weren't going to bite his hand off, he became more confident about continuing. he had a very soft smile tugging at his plump lips, though you could see the angst hiding in those chocolate brown eyes. it was as if he wasn't sure of what you were going to say, like that scared him.

truthfully, it did. johnny's biggest fear was that you would never get over any kind of resentment toward him you may have. this was a feeling he understood, and he very much understood why you would be feeling this way toward him, but he at least hoped the both of you would be able to find some kind of middle ground. he was just as fond of the arrangement as you were; maybe even more so, since he had grown up watching it play out before his eyes.

his mother never really did overcome her hatred for his father. perhaps this was because times were different when she was younger. she had the pleasure of experiencing life before the war; she knew freedom without having poverty cripple the entirety of her family. even in the midst of the violence and war, she still found a way to be happy without having to rely on money to do so. because of this, being pulled away from her parents crushed her. she wasn't like you; she didn't find comfort in a full belly, nor did she see it as a reason to excuse what had happened to her. she loved her son very much, though she never even made an attempt to hide the fact that she cared for her husband very little. in fact, johnny often suspected that she only agreed to have a child as a form of escapism. he always wondered if that was why she insisted on spending all of her free time with him, even while he was being pestered by countless tutors.

maybe it was selfish to wish for you to get over a traumatic experience in order to be happy with him, but he didn't know any other way of living. what he wanted more than anything was for you to be happy, though he didn't think this was something he would be able to communicate correctly without making a pig of himself. he understood the severity of the culture difference between the both of you and didn't want to come across as arrogant, especially because he knew that he was. he didn't intend to be, but he wasn't naïve.

"i want to hate you so badly," you admitted finally. for once, you locked eyes with him. you wanted him to see you, to know that you weren't exaggerating in order to toy with his nerves. perhaps you didn't know the first thing about talking to boys, but you knew a great deal about communicating your feelings to the emotionally ignorant. you often had conversations of this nature with you brother when he grew old enough, as you found that talking took far less energy than fighting did. the man stopped petting you then, his hand simply resting at the nape of your neck. you rolled your eyes, watching him squirm a little in his seat. "you can keep doing that thing if you want, it doesn't really bother me one way or another. even if it did, i think i could punch you in the face and you probably wouldn't do anything violent to retaliate; i probably would've done that by now."

he wanted to argue, but he knew he couldn't. you were right. even if he hated you with every fiber of his being, he could never bring himself to raise a hand to a woman. just the mere thought of what he had to do to you already made him sick to his stomach. instead, he simply began his hand motions once more.

"i want to hate you so badly," you repeated, huffing a bit. your eyes drifted off, directing your glare at whichever bookshelf you spotted first. "i've been thinking about it a lot and i don't think you have any idea how much it hurts that for the life of me i haven't been able to find a way to make you into more than just a minor annoyance. i'm irritated at the circumstances of our meeting, but the more i think about it, the less i'm able to find you terrible. you should repulse me, but really, what did i have waiting for me back home? loneliness and starvation? i try to remember that i was making something of myself by educating children that weren't able to bathe most days, let alone pick up a book on their own, but it seems a little bittersweet when the skeleton i see in the mirror is all i have to show for it. i want to hate your guts for what you did, but how can i when you've given me everything i never had?"

this time, he pulled away completely. he recognized your hurt, yet he was unsure about what to do in response. he knew that honesty was in order, but these were not the kinds of conversations he was accustomed to. johnny was taught to suppress his feelings as opposed to expressing them, as his father thought that to share one's inner feelings was a very feminine thing to do. even i love you's were assumed and not spoken. an attempt was made in explaining his point of view on your journey to his home, but even then, he had barely scratched the surface of what was buried deep in his heart.

"i'm sorry for that," he began, his features slowly contorting with the first wave of distress that wracked his brain. "i'm not really sure what to say aside from that. i understand that you're upset and i understand why, honestly. i figured you would be, which i guess is why i've been trying to overcompensate with material items. i don't know if that makes me even more of a shitty person, but i figured that the least i can do is make sure you have what you need... i'm not going to sit here and pretend like i'm your savior for doing that, nor am i going to force you to like me. do i want you to? of course i do. i hope we can be friends at the very least, but i'm always going to respect your wants and-"

"don't you have a job to be getting back to?"

you wanted to scream. he was making it so hard by being a decent person, so much that you had half a mind to punch him square in the nose. you knew it was terrible to wish he were a worse person, but it would make your frustration so much more valid. it was very clear that his intention wasn't to confuse you even further, but that was the result regardless. you weren't sure where you stood, only that the ground you wished to be upon was very far out of reach.

he shook his head, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. while he was sure your irritation was very genuine, he was relieved to see that it wasn't likely to grow into something more. the last thing he wanted to do was dig himself a deeper hole to fall into.

"i don't have to do anything; it's more that i choose to get up and go to work everyday. if i really wanted to, i could easily appoint someone to take on my workload without losing any personal profit," he explained, closing the book in his lap and placing it on the coffee table. not only did he want to cut your date short before your annoyance really began to blossom, he could see how tired you'd become. keeping this in mind, he was slow to stand up and extend a hand toward you. there was a fleeting look of hesitance that washed over the irises of your eyes, but you took it nonetheless. while helping you to your feet, he continued. "i like my job--the techy stuff, anyway. having to be the bad guy all the time is honestly really stressful, but i guess that's just part of the package, right?"

though it felt like the question was directed more toward himself than anything, you took it upon yourself to answer anyway. your hand still resting in his, you allowed him to guide you back to the elevator.

"not necessarily," you responded, watching as he swiped his keycard once more. following him into the elevator, you took a few seconds to piece together the rest of your thoughts. it wasn't very easy given how little you knew about what it was he did at work, but you felt that his mindset was very flawed regardless of his job title. "if you're really as in charge as you claim to be, i don't understand why it has to be so terrible for the people that work for you, if that's what you're trying to say."

"you don't get it," he muttered softly.

he used his index finger to press another one of the shiny metal buttons on the panel before him. while doing so, he did his best to avoid your gaze. he didn't even want to think about how he must've sounded complaining about such problems, as they seemed so silly in retrospect. he felt so guilty complaining about the way he happened to make his money knowing you came from the situation you did. in a way, he felt like he had slapped you across the face, though he would never even dream of doing such a thing.

"no, i don't," you quipped. your voice was very level, yet you couldn't help but let go of his hand. it seemed like he wasn't really in the mood to hold yours any more than you were his. "i don't know anything about science, or engineering, or even how to count without using my fingers, but i know what it's like to be poor. my father worked for someone like you. one days worth of your earnings could probably feed a family like mine for at least a week, but instead big companies throw pennies at their workers and demand that we make it stretch far enough. maybe other decisions wouldn't feel so weighted if you knew your employees were going home to more than scraps from the garbage, but you're choosing not to find that out."

johnny remained silent. there was nothing he could say to refute your argument; you were right. this was an issue that was far easier to avoid before your arrival, especially now that you were choosing to voice your concerns. the money his business produced made it very easy to ignore the conditions certain staff members were likely living in. in all honesty, he'd never even given it much thought. his father had always preached that they were not responsible for anything that went on outside of the workplace, though he was neglecting to take into account that the things they provided during work hours directly contributed to everything that took place before and after. he felt ashamed now, having this thrown back in his face.

"you're right. i'm sorry."

the elevator opened up after what felt like forever, much to your relief. after taking two steps forward, it felt like the man had wrapped his hands around both of your ankles and dragged you back ten. you were well aware that the difference in upbringings might make conversation a bit difficult at times, but you weren't expecting him to be so ignorant to the state of the world beyond the little bubble he existed in. all it served to do was dull what little sparkle had managed to find you today.

"i think i remember how to get back to my room from here," you promptly informed him.

"you're sure?" he asked softly, to which you merely nodded.

you didn't know if there was really anything left to say. you were far too exhausted to entertain him any longer; all you wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep until you no longer felt the tiny pinprick of sadness in your chest.

perhaps tomorrow he would manage to redeem himself, you told yourself. after all, he'd already made it very clear that he had more than enough money to do so.

author’s note: i’m so sorry this took so long ): i’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately, but i’m going to do my best to be more consistent with my uploads. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist (:

#johnny has so much character growth in his future #hydrangea ;#johnny seo #nct johnny #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #johnny scenarios #nct angst #nct series #nct stories #Park Jisung #nct jisung #nct au #ceo au

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tendiyu · 4 years

Text

A Show

giyu tomioka x fem!reader

CEO AU

warnings: daddy kink, overstim, edging, degradation, slight public scene, penetration, pwp, smut!

The way the two of you had met was odd, you worked part-time at a maid cafe in Tokyo, and Giyu was the CEO of a famous company. You noticed the quiet man had taken quite the interest in you. He always requested that you would be his waitress, and when he came to the little cafe, they would close down due to his request. You honestly don’t know what ended up leading him to be attracted to you as the class difference between the both of you was insane. You were a college student currently majoring in business, while he was a CEO. You had memorized his favorite order, which is what he usually ordered anyways. What you didn’t know was that today was going to be different from the rest. You went over to his booth, always showing him your best smile, as he tipped well. On certain days you’d walk away with over $400 in tips from him alone.

“Don’t you ever get bored of working here?” He asked while sipping on his drink.

“Well, Master Tomioka I wouldn’t be able to see you if I got sick of working here,” You said unconsciously, blushing when you realized what you said.

You quickly smiled before excusing yourself to the kitchen. You took in a deep breath, regaining your composure before heading back out and sitting across from him, as per his request. You chatted with him, keeping it light and formal. Once he was done you got up, bringing his plates into the kitchen. When you came back he motioned for you to sit back down.

“I have an offer for you, hopefully, one you’d say yes to, would you like to be my sugar baby?” He asked and your eyes widened.

You had never expected him to come to you with such an interesting offer, as that’s the first word that came to mind. You had to think it over and ask questions about it as you couldn’t say yes without knowing what you had to give to him as well.

“Could we talk about this more in-depth after my shift, here I’ll give you my number,” You said and he nodded.

You wrote down your number on a piece of paper handing it to him, and then you got up bowing slightly. You said goodbye and escorted him out of the small maid cafe. The cafe soon opened up normally for business and customers flowed in at an insane rate. You were busy but your mind kept wandering to the offer, on your break you checked your phone to see that Giyuu had messaged you, telling you that it was him. You texted back asking him to explain the deal you two would be making in more detail. He sent you a long text explaining that they would move at a rate that was comfortable for you, which you genuinely appreciated. You told him that you’d agree to it as long as he allowed you to set the pace, you honestly didn’t mind the CEO was an attractive man. Fast forward a few weeks, the agreement worked without a hitch, you’d go on dates with him and he would spoil you immensely. Giyuu had taken you lingerie shopping as you told him you were in desperate need of new pieces, which he quickly agreed to do so. He didn’t need to ask for pictures as he knew you’d send them to him. He bought you such beautiful and intricate pieces although you insisted on simple ones that were cheaper. Today was your day off and you knew he had an important meeting so you decided to take pictures with his favorite set from the day. Over it, you slipped on the oversized sweatshirt that he had left from your movie date night. You took a picture of you in it, the garter belt poking out which held up your stockings. You told him to have a good meeting and that more surprises would come soon, and for him to text you when the meeting was done. Giyuu had bought you a wall-length mirror and paid for the workers to install it as well, as he wanted you to be able to take cute outfit pictures for him. You brought over your pink gaming chair, slipping on the bunny ears he liked, which matched the color of your set which was royal blue. You sat on it and did different poses. You then pushed the chair back to your desk, going on your knees in front of the mirror, and held onto the bow the tied your bra together. You took a few more pictures that you were sure he’d like and then went over to your game doing some of the work you were given today at university. You then opted to play a few rounds of your favorite game, as Giyuu had recently bought you a new set up, it was probably the best one you’ve had to date. Your phone went off and you saw the Giyuu had texted you, he told you that he was now out of his meeting. You selected the pictures you’d knew he like the best and sent them to him. You put your phone down and went to the bathroom. Honestly, you began to notice how much your life had changed when you became his sugar baby, you were living in a better apartment, struggling less and happier. You heard your phone go off and you quickly made your way to your phone. You grabbed it seeing that Giyuu was facetime you. You picked it up smiling and waving, he greeted you but you could see how tired he was which made you sad.

“You look stunning in that set, I’m glad you let me get it for you,” He said softly and you nodded.

“Thank you, are you okay you seem tired? Is there anything I could do for you?” You ask him, only wanting to take care of him as he with you.

“Yeah, is it okay if I swing by after work? I only want to be in your company, I can order some food to your house as well,” He said and you nodded.

“Yeah of course, if you want I can run a bath for you, oh! I can use the um,” You ran into the bathroom looking for the product and showing it to him. “These bath salts are really calming, I use them after a hard shift at the cafe.”

“Sounds amazing, you still have some of my clothes over there right? Also tomorrow, there is a company outing, I was wondering if I could take you with me?” He asked and you nodded.

“Of course, what time is it? Just so that I know if I’ll be making it to work tomorrow,” You asked and he responded with right after your shift.

You had a morning shift that day which you were grateful for, you quickly texted your manager that you had to leave slightly early tomorrow.

“Alright love, I’ll see you when I get there,” He said and you waved goodbye.

You got up and took out two plates and placed them on the island you had in your kitchen. You then went over to the living room hooking your switch to the TV, as you never knew if he was in a mood to play. You also set up Hulu and put the controller down. You then went into your room and rummaged through your drawers looking for some clothes Giyuu had left for times like these. You set them out along with a towel inside the bathroom. Giyuu texted you that he was five minutes away and you began running the water filling up the tub and then pouring the salts in. You didn’t fill it up fully as it could get cold for him, and you would need to fill the tub up with warm water again. You heard a knock and went over checking to see who it was. It was Giyuu with his suit on, you had to admit he looked good. You let him in hugging him tightly and he wrapped his arms around you planting a kiss on your head. You held his hand as you guided him to the bathroom, you then went to turn but he called out to you.

“Do you think you’re comfortable enough to accompany me in the bath?” He asked in a soft manner not wanting to pressure you.

“Oh, is that what you want?” You asked him and he nodded.

“But, it’s fine if you’re not okay with it,” He said and you shook your head.

“No, I’m comfortable enough with you now for this, plus you had a long day at work. The only thing I request is that you close your eyes while I strip,” You told him and he nodded.

You went into your room letting him strip and took off his sweatshirt making sure to leave it on your bed as you wanted to put it on again. You then laid out your underwear and bra along with shorts and thigh-high socks. You took a towel and put it next to the bathroom, and began stripping. It honestly took you a bit longer to take off than put on due to the intricacy of the set. You took it off and wrapped yourself in the towel, making sure to put your hair up in a messy bun but making sure it still looked nice. You went into the bathroom and saw Giyuu already in the tub. You motioned for him to close his eyes which he did and you slipped in across from him.

“You can open your eyes now,” You told him and he did, looking at you with a slight pout.

“Could you maybe come closer?” He asked and you nodded coming closer to him, and he guided your back to his chest.

He hummed softly while rubbing soft circles with his thumb on your shoulder. His touch began to make you needy as you blushed shifting slightly.

“You alright petal?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Yeah sorry if I startled you,” You responded softly and Giyuu wasn’t buying it.

“You know you can tell me if something wrong, right? I would never want you to be uncomfortable with me,” He said softly and you nodded.

“Yeah, I know, Giyuu,” You said softly before closing your eyes.

You felt one hand rubbing circles on your thigh and you began to blush even more. Giyuu took notice of the change in attitude and decided to test the waters a bit. He began to rub circles on your thigh up higher and you felt him lean down.

“Am I making you needy petal?” He asked in a taunting voice.

You nodded your head too embarrassed to even speak.

“Hm, does my good girl want me to do something about it then?” He asked and you nodded again. “Use your words, I know you can.”

“Yes please, please do something Giyuu,” You choked out and you could tell he was smirking.

“No, remember when he fully talked about our agreement what you would call me?” He asked while the tips of his fingers ghosted where you wanted, no needed him the most.

“Please daddy,” You whispered out embarrassed, you could tell he was enjoying every second of this moment.

“Now, where do you want me? What do you want me to do? Come on you can tell daddy can’t you?” He asked and you felt the heat begin to pool between your thighs.

“Down there, I want you to touch me please,” You pleaded softly.

“Alright if that’s what my good girl wants,” He said.

His fingers began to teasingly rub your clit with the other hand worked on playing with your nipple. Your back arched as you let out soft whines, wanting more.

“More please, I want you to fill me up with your fingers daddy,” You whined and he groaned softly.

He slipped his middle finger in and went slowly allowing you to adjust. You began to grind against his fingers which caused him to slip another one in while using his thumb to rub your clit. You felt a coiling sensation in your stomach as you were close but he stopped.

“Come on, beg for it, beg for me to let you cum,” He said in a low tone.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want I promise, just please daddy I need it,” You whined, and that was enough to set Giyuu over the edge.

“I think you’ll be cumming on my cock then, is that alright?” He asked and you nodded desperately.

He picked your hips up adjusting your hips before teasing you with the tip. He made sure to rub it on your clit which made your hips jerk harshly. He then began to slowly enter you and bottomed out, sucking in a harsh breath. You were clenching on him tightly and he began to set a harsh pace, making sure to pay attention to your reactions. You felt him hit a spot and let out a loud moan, covering your mouth in shock.

“Who knew my innocent little maid was such a cock slut huh?” He whispered in your ear which caused you to clench down on him harder. “Oh?”

He continued to abuse your g spot making sure to rub your clit as well as he wanted to focus on your pleasure. He degraded you in your ear which pushed you off the edge and your orgasm hit you like a train. You had tears flowing down your eyes while you whined and whimpered. You continued to whimper the word daddy as well, but Giyuu continued wanting to overstimulate you. When you had finally ridden your high, you felt extremely sensitive. You mewled out softy, which only fed Giyuu’s drive causing him to be harshed with his thrust.

“Taking my cock so well pretty girl, your little cunt was made for my cock wasn’t it?” He said and you nodded feeling your orgasm work itself back up.

Giyuu’s thrusts got sloppier and he gave a few harsh thrusts before you came around him and hard. Your cunt was pulling his cock back in while he tried to slip out. Once he did he pumped his cock a few times cumming, letting out low groans. Giyuu got up wrapping a towel around his waist and then picked you up wrapping you in a towel as well and then carried you outside the bathroom.

“How about I order some food, we slip on a movie or a game you want to play and we just cuddle? You did such a good job for me (y/n), you’re always so good for me baby,” He said softly while putting you down on your bed.

You blushed and nodded, he turned to leave but you grabbed his arm.

“You did really good too, thank you, I really enjoyed that, but um could you help me change?” You asked him and he nodded.

You instructed him to turn as you slipped your bra on and his sweatshirt. You then called him over to help you slip on your underwear, shorts, and thigh-highs blushing the entire time. He then left to go to the bathroom and you got up testing the water, but your thighs were shaking. Luckily, you made your way into the bathroom and knocked, Giyuu giving you permission to enter. You hung up your towel and then waited for him, you both then made your way over to the couch and you put on an anime you both were watching together. You cuddled into him as he orderer food from your favorite restaurant while stroking your hair softly. You found yourself falling asleep to his breathing slumping against him. Giyuu kissed your forehead looking down at you in adoration. Half an hour later he heard someone knocking on the door and went to check, seeing that it was the food you two had ordered. He thanked the young man tipping him and then set the food on the counter waking you up. You stirred awake pouting but soon smiled at the smell of food. You got up waddling to the island and sat down on the stool. Giyuu and you ate while he spoke over some of the details of tomorrow’s event, you were a bit nervous. He instructed you to wear a golf skirt along with a long sleeve polo shirt and a cap to help with the sun. You nodded and then soon found yourself on your bed with Giyuu next to you asleep. When your alarm went off in the morning you noticed Giyuu was gone but he left you a note telling you that he was sorry he had to go and to check your phone. He sent you an audio message which basically consisted of him wishing you a good day at work and reminding you that he cared for you a lot. You smiled and went into the kitchen quickly making breakfast. While your breakfast was heating up, you went into your room looking for your blue maid costume as today was a blue theme with animal ears. You carefully slipped it on as it was slightly intricate and then slipped on your blue bunny ears before going into the kitchen again. You quickly gulped down your breakfast followed with tea and then brushed your teeth and washed your face. You then began your makeup routine and grabbed your bag and keys making sure you had everything before heading out the door. You made sure to send Giyuu pictures of you in your maid outfit, as he really liked this one. You got in your car and drove to work, which was a short drive. You then got out, checking in, and then starting your shift. You had honestly made a decent amount in tips alone today which made you glad, you then got a text from Giyuu saying that a driver was waiting for you but you explained you had driven your car. He told you that he would have the driver bring you back or take your car to your apartment complex. You greeted the driver with a friendly smile before getting in seeing that Giyuu had already bought you the outfit you were wearing accompanied by a note. The note was short and sweet telling you that he couldn’t wait to see you in the outfit. You saw the golf course slowly get bigger and you honestly felt nervous. What if his coworkers didn’t like you? Or worse they questioned what you did for a living? You shook off the negative thoughts as the car had already pulled up. You thanked the driver for getting out and making your way to the nearest dressing room. You quickly changed gently putting your outfit into the bag and took off the heavier parts of your makeup. You then went out and went looking for Giyuu.

“I’m sorry ma’am, are you with anyone?” A male at the front desk had asked you to which you nodded.

“Hello, I’m sorry but I’m here with Mr. Tomioka’s party?” You said in a questioning tone.

“Ah are you (y/n)?” He asked to which you nodded.

He then escorted you onto the field telling you that he would put your things in a locker. You thanked him making sure to take your keys, wallet, and phone out. He then guided you to where Giyuu was, you thanked him before making your way to him. He saw you and hugged you tightly which you returned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. He held your hand and then took you over to the rest of his coworkers and their wives. You politely greeted them, with a smile and a small bow. Soon the men were off to play golf and you were left with the wives. You felt slightly self-conscious as the wives were looking at you, you then felt a small vibration between your thighs, and your eyes widened.

“So (y/n) right? What do you do for a living?” One of them asked you and you smiled.

“I’m going to university for business,” You said softly in a strained voice.

The woman nodded and ask you how you were doing in classes to which you replied well, and then you asked her for how long she was married to her husband, you heard a notification go off on your phone. You looked at it to see Giyuu saying that he missed you, and you replied that you missed him too with a frowny face. You then felt the vibrations increase and gripped the chair a little harder. The wives told you they would be drinking but you declined as you didn’t want to get drunk with them, or even drink at all. Soon you saw all the men coming into the distance and you got up brushing your skirt out. You grabbed your things and headed over to Giyuu faltering slightly as he purposely increased the vibrator to its max setting. He went over to you and hugged you tightly which you tried your best to return.

“Oh, um how did it go?” You stuttered out while blushing.

“Pretty good I almost won too,” He said and you pouted.

“Next time then, do you think we can go home? I’m slightly tired,” You said softly and he nodded.

You both said your goodbyes and you got your bag and then met up with Giyuu at the front getting into the car with him.

“Hm, you liked your little surprise petal?” Giyuu asked with a smirk.

“It was a surprise alright… it was interesting I don’t know if I would do it again, depends,” You said softly and he nodded.

You laid your head on his shoulder and he buckled you in and then himself. You felt yourself falling asleep and he held you softly, making sure not to wake you up.

#giyu #giyu x reader #giyu smut #demon slayer #demon slayer smut #one shot #ceo au #hashira smut #water hashira #kimetsu no yaiba

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lucifers-horror-harem · 3 years

Text

Alan Sharpe Yandere Alphabet (Slasher OC)

So I am aware I don’t even have an official character sheet or background information on this new yandere slasher of mine, however I find that some of these bits come to me in time. Plus, a bunch of small tidbits are in this alphabet post too. But I am always happy to answer asks about this boy cause it helps me get to know him a bit better too <3

The face claim is Kim Coates <3 I imagine Alan to be mid fifties in age.

Warnings for non con/dub con elements, uses of housewife/wife/kids/implied AFAB

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Alan is really emotionally and physically affectionate with his darling once he is certain they will accept it. He can be rather cold with someone who’s feisty or ungrateful and doesn't appreciate his love. He tends to go overboard spoiling his darling with material items and such, as money is no object for him. If he thinks something will make you happy he will do whatever it takes to get it for you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will take care of whatever stands in the way between you and him. Ultimately he doesn't want to have to kill family or friends, but if they pose a threat to either of you or happen to find out his secrets they will have to go. Alan has people to take care of these things for him, but if they are a significant other or other love interest that makes him see red, he will take care of the matter himself. Violence and murder aren't new to him, when he was in his teens and early twenties he had a track record of hanging in the wrong crowds and going after anyone that stood in the way of his interests.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

If it were up to Alan, he would prefer to be sweet with you and as soon as he abducts you the two of you start the honeymoon phase of your relationship. But if you’re causing problems and trying to escape, he’ll treat you accordingly. He has no issue being cruel with you, getting into your head and insisting no one will love you like he can and how stupid you would have to be to not see the cushy life ahead of you, if only you accept his love. He doesn't really think its that hard of a choice.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He would rather not force you to do anything you don't want to. All Alan wants is for you to love him, after all. But if time goes on and you continue to fight him, he might take more drastic measures to prove just how much he wants you. If you are being more docile and submissive, he might push boundaries and grope you as a way of teasing, but he will likely be more willing to wait for you. He has needs, after all.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

In the beginning of the relationship, Alan keeps his deepest feelings close to his chest and only tells his darling of the inconsequential things in his life. He wants a housewife type of partner so he always seems to like venting to you about how rough of a day he had at the office taking care of things, and him wanting to hear the same about your day in return (not that you can even go anywhere during the day). After a long period of time and trust he will slowly start to talk about deeper things with you, really opening up about what he wants and desires in his life.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Alan hates it, but in a sick way he enjoys correcting your behavior. While he much prefers a more docile and sweet darling he will be more than happy finding a reason to take out his frustrations on the person who has been causing all these problems. If you were good, he wouldn't have to do this, you know.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Love is something serious to Alan, and gets infuriated seeing his darling wanting to escape or attempting and failing. He will punish them accordingly, and hopefully they will learn their lesson. However, if his darling likes to indulge in bratty behavior but is still quite submissive and only wants to play, then he will be quite accommodating. He can be playful when he wants to, he just needs to feel comfortable enough to let that side of him out.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The worst would be when they finally realize how dedicated Alan is to having you be his. It could be watching him kill with his bare hands in front of you for the first time, snuffing out the life of someone you know (a lover or someone who just got too close to you for Alan's comfort), and watching the glee in Alan's face as he did it, all while insisting he was doing it to protect you. Another possible contender would be finding out just how long and thoroughly he had been stalking you, waiting until just the right moment to strike. Even building trust with you, playing the kind and caring boss that everyone loves before showing his darker possessive side to you when you finally figure out what's going on. Once kidnapped, he would even use your social media to trick your family and friends into believing the two of you were together in a happy relationship under the radar (if you happened to work for him) when in reality you were trapped in one of his many homes against your will.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Ultimately, Alan is looking for a partner to play out the parts of life that everyone his age for the most part already have. The wife, kids, happy family, the whole shebang. He wants a partner that will stay at home, even if they don't want to do housework he can hire someone for that. But he goes feral over the idea of coming home from a long day at the office and seeing his wife finishing dinner for him and the kids. He had far from the typical home life as a child and longs for the stability and normalcy of it.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Alan gets insanely jealous, but he tends to reserve his anger for those who intend to steal you away from him. If all things work out for Alan, he would want you by his side at all business outings, and in those situations he wouldn't mind the casual conversation of people commenting on your beauty and how lucky of a man he is. It makes him proud and he wants you to feel special as well. But as a man he knows the way they look at you with less innocent intentions, even if they would never act upon them. That's what makes Alan's blood boil. He would never lash out at you specifically unless you actively encouraged others to flirt with you in front of him. He will make them pay in one way or another.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

In public he is the perfect gentleman, having you place a hand on his inner arm as he walks around. He is also known to keep a hand on the small of your back or hip to keep you close to him. While he does worry about you slipping away from him, he is naturally just a very touchy man and likes to have you within arms reach constantly. Will often bring your hand up to his lips to kiss your knuckles absent-mindedly as well.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

The most likely scenario of him finding a partner would be through his work, and while office romance is obviously not permitted because he’s the boss, it doesn’t stop him from being friendly. No one ever suspects him of anything because he is so kind and genuine with everyone. For his love, he would often give them the same treatment as everyone else with a bit of extra meaning behind his words. He would never directly ask them out, but he would be extra attentive and listening to you speak when you have conversations. People would probably call them a brown noser before even thinking that Alan had other motives in mind. He doesn’t give presents mostly because he doesn’t want to be seen as too forward, but if the opportunity arises he will pay for lunch or the coffee at the shop he just happened to bump into you at.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Absolutely. For the boss of an established business with many important clients, he is all around a genuine good boss to his employees. When he took the business over from his father after he suddenly passed, he made sure he did the opposite of what his father did when it came to treating his employees well. When people look at him they see a genuinely kindhearted man that they can’t believe isn’t married, as everyone else around his age typically is. He was married once though not many people know about it and he prefers to keep that and the majority of his past hidden away from prying minds.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

If he is in a good mood there will be a lot of torturous edging on his part. Alan has been known to favor tying up his partner and leaving them for hours until he comes back later to take care of them. He also loves spanking and impact play, knowing just how much you can handle before you cry, though if you’ve been bad he just might want to see you cry a little. If Alan is in a bad mood his punishments will be harsher, the bindings tighter, and will be fine seeing your tears pour freely as you beg for him to slow down.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

When he first kidnaps you he will take away almost everything, especially any sort of phone or internet for you to reach the outside world. He makes sure to have things for you to occupy yourself with and even your favorite hobbies and books. But if you continue to disobey, more of those things will be taken away from you. Once you start getting used to life with Alan, he will slowly give you more privileges as he trusts you with them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Alan is much more patient with a willing partner, especially if they’re shy or inexperienced. He will bend over backward to slowly ease your way into the sexual things he wants from you, though sometimes he might cross your boundaries simply to see what happens. If you’ve been nothing but ungrateful to him, he will have a lot less patience and be more forceful with what he wants from you. He still cares about you though, and would rather not force you to be with him but if you give him no choice he just might.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

While the odds of leaving or escaping under his watch are very small, nevertheless he would be heartbroken and furious at you. How could you not understand what he was offering you? Who would pass up such a comfortable life? Most likely he will have you back with him shortly whether by himself or from his hired men, and your punishment will make you seriously consider escaping again. A part of him is terrified about police intervention, but it would take a lot for you to be able to get them or anyone on your side, and he would have the evidence disposed of quickly if that’s the road you chose. If you were to die, that would be another story. He would never be able to forgive himself, blaming himself for your death constantly whether it was his fault or not. Alan might be able to move on one day, but if his darling were to die it would only make him more cruel and cold when it came to the next person he set his sights on.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

The only time Alan might ever feel guilty would be years later after you were in love with him and had given him children, he might feel remorse for how he went about it, wondering if he could have seduced you normally. However those thoughts don’t last long, and he wouldn’t want to change the circumstances for the world.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Growing up as the son of a wealthy businessman and a high society woman, he has quite a bit of trauma. The majority was psychological abuse from his father constantly berating him for not being manly enough to take over the business, with Alan rebelling in every way he could just to make his father mad. His mother was rarely in the picture, as she did her own thing with her own people and rarely saw Alan. He was taken better care of by his nanny than either of his parents. The life he wants for himself is far removed from what he dealt with as a child.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

While he might feel bad for seeing his darling cry, he typically doesn’t feel bad seeing them upset. He knows this is an adjustment period for them, and eventually, they will calm down. If not, then he might see you as a spoiled brat who can’t think rationally.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Not sure if this is different, but he stalks his darling obsessively for a long period of time before kidnapping them. He uses all sorts of cameras and bugging equipment just to see you whenever he can’t be next to you. Alan needs to know everything about you for when you come to live with him and wants to make the transition as easy as possible.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

If his darling can find out anything about Alan’s past, it would be the closest thing they have to twist the metaphorical knife into his wounds. There are a lot of skeletons in his closet, some of them being things that were scrubbed from official records while others weren’t even found out. Be careful if you decide to go digging before he trusts you enough to tell you these things, he might have to hurt you horribly just for the breach of trust.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Definitely. While he emotionally manipulates them constantly into believing what he does is love, if push comes to shove he will physically harm his darling to make sure they don’t escape again. A broken arm or leg wouldn’t be unheard of with Alan, and one should be lucky if they get away with that little.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

To Alan, you are his entire world, a chance for him to start a family and have the normal life he always wanted. He would worship the ground you walk on, making sure you knew every second of every day how much he loved and cherished you, his savior. And if you don’t believe him, he will go to the ends of the earth and do whatever you ask within reason to prove to you just how much he loves you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Alan might last at most a year simply watching his darling, especially if there is no competition from other partners. If someone else comes into the picture, Alan is quick to speed his plan along and kidnap you away before you can even grow attached to this person.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

While the sadistic part of him loves the idea of breaking his darling down, he ultimately wants them to accept him of their own free will. He might push and push until you bend under his will, but unless he is at his wit’s end he will do his best to keep you from completely breaking.

#slasher oc #yandere oc #alan sharpe #my ocs tag

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dancing-the-hellfire-rumba · 4 years

Text

Tell Me Everything

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3k Summary: Reader works as a costume designer in Marvel. She's currently working on Endgame, designing the costumes for each superhero (but especially her favorite one), when Chris stops by. Later, he tries it on. Mutal pining goodness and fluff all throughout :) Warnings: None :) A/N: It’s been a while. I’ve written for chris once only, and I already miss it. Here’s some fluff.

Earphones plugged in deep in her ears, blocking every other sound apart from her music. The side of her hand is dirty with pencil lead, leaving occasional smudges on the paper that she forgets to erase. It’s- there’s a lingering fatigue she can’t really shake off. She’s beyond exhausted, working so late in the night, still in her office, but doing this, right here, it feels so damn good. It doesn’t matter that she should be heading home, because all her repressed creativity is bleeding in the paper, flowing as if it’s pouring out of her veins . Finally, finally , doing the thing she’s great at, the thing she loves.

Her music is deep, dark, has a strong but slow beat to it, and she bobs her head along, uncaring of the strands of hair that are furiously escaping her ponytail. She gets lost in the design, vigorously making swooping lines and hard edges, scribbling to her heart’s content, erasing a line and coming back in. The tedious process of adding details makes her settle just a little.

These past few years have been incredible. Working for Marvel was a dream she didn’t even know she’d had, the opportunity of a lifetime, truly. During the time spent working with all these amazing people, she’s learned, she’s grown, she’d developed as an artist and as a person. She can say nothing less than she’s happy, truly happy here. She means, designing and creating costumes for this franchise has been a job she couldn’t have even dreamt of. It may get tiresome, sometimes boring and tedious, but right now, designing… she feels like she’s been born to do this and just this.

It’s been a while since she’d gotten so lost in a design. It may be the fact that this particular one, and the actor that’s supposed to wear it, is her favorite. She may be biased. But she’d had amazing ideas and she was so eager to just make them come to life.

She’s coloring the last of the star in the center of the chest, when fingers tap her shoulder. Having been so lost in her work and music, she feels like someone poured a bucket of water over her without warning, and she jumps, pulling her earbuds out by their wire and swiveling her chair to look at the intruder.

Chris smiles down at her, all teeth and soft eyes. His hands are in the air flamboyantly, It’s me!, dark grey, long sleeved Henley loose on his biceps, and dark wash jeans hugging his thighs tightly. His hair is grown longer, tucked behind his ears, his beard is… new , and very nicely trimmed. Her heart thumps a little louder at the sight of him. If anyone were to ask, she’d blame the jumpscare, but she knows better.

“Chris!” Excitedly getting off her seat and throwing her arms around his shoulders in a friendly hug. His own wrap around her tightly, squeeze her to him, if only for a second, and she exhales.

“Hey!” He tells her, just as excitedly, and she pulls back. “I’m sorry I scared you, I knocked and there was no answer.” She waves a hand to show him it’s okay and plops back on her seat unceremoniously.

“What are you even doing here?! I thought the cast was gonna show up next week, for the fittings?” A strand tucked behind her ear and she’s suddenly kind of self-conscious of her disheveled state. Chris leans his hip on her desk and crosses his arms over his chest casually, looking like one of those bad boys in 2000’s coming-of-age rom-coms. She tries not to stare, but it’s a struggle, and a funny thought crosses her mind. If she were looking at him for the first time, he’d be screaming trouble. He still does, but less because he’s scary and a heartbreaker, and more because she’s hopeless when it comes to being functional around him.

“I had some business up here in New York, and the Russo’s asked me to drop by. Something about paperwork.” He shrugs lightly and she ‘ah’s, accompanied by a nod and a brief eyebrow twitch to show her understanding.

“Well, I’m happy you dropped by. It’s been a hot minute, hasn’t it,” she smiles at him, and Chris nods, a bit of an apologetic, regretful almost, look in his eye.

“So,” he says and shifts his weight a little, “whatcha working on?”

“You, actually.” Lead-stained fingers pull the sketchbook under the light a little better, closer to him, and he gets off his hip, places his left hand on the back of her chair, leaning all his weight on his right, on the desk. His chest is suddenly so close to her face, her shoulder brushes his torso and she’s holding her breath , because he smells so good –cologne and aftershave?- she might fucking faint . She can feel her face heat up. She wonders if he’s doing it on purpose, if he knows at all. She watches his expression.

“Waddaya got?” It’s all interest in his voice, and he doesn’t seem to intend to move. Damn.

“Well,” she takes a shaky breath, “I figured, y’know-“ a mindless shrug, and his shirt is exceptionally soft and fairly thin, two layers between their bare skin, and- oh gosh, she's supposed to be explaining things. Focus! “Cap needs a new suit, and he’s a fugitive now, right? He doesn’t really care to get a new one tailored.” Chris exhales a chopped, amused breath and nods sideways, as if saying You have a point there . “So the old one would have to do.

“But it’s different now, because he can’t have the same exact one, completely untouched, and he’s a different man now anyways.” Scooting the chair closer to the desk on instinct- and fucking great , now she’s literally pressing into the bottom of his ribcage lightly with her shoulder. It’s getting harder to breathe. She can feel his exhales on her face, Jesus. “So basically,” a steadying, shaky breath, “I made it dirtier- that’s why the colors are darker. It’s supposed to be aging fabric. But it’s also more comfortable for you.

“The sleeves will end right here-” without giving it much thought, she traces a line under his right elbow, the one on which he’s leaning, and he follows the motion with his gaze intently, “and you’ll wear some fingerless gloves with buckles on them.” He nods, eyes still not off her design, occasionally flicking to glance at her. “But,” she begins.

“The detail I’m most excited for is this,” a tap on the star in the middle of the uniform- or rather lack thereof. The space where the plastic white thing once resided is now dark blue like the rest of the uniform. She grins up at him when his features twitch in interest. “I pitched this to Joe and he really loved it. Basically, my logic is that, as we said, Cap’s a fugitive, yeah?” Chris nods, attentive as ever. “He’s gone against every government official he knows, against a big chunk of his own team. The news have probably said awful things about him and painted him as a superhero gone rogue or something. So what does he do? He rips off the star.

“He no longer fits the Captain America title, in the sense that he doesn’t want to be associated with the government’s lap dog, their dancing monkey. Instead of faithfully following orders as a soldier, he’s his own self, still a Captain, but on his own terms. It’s symbolic! He’s carving his own path, leading like he was always meant to, and he’s dramatic enough to have done this- ripped off the star I mean. The suit should feel more familiar to him now.”

She’s been rambling for a while, her mouth is drier, but she was so excited when the idea manifested in her head. A big sense of pride washed over her, she couldn’t wait to design and implement it in the costume.

And Chris, well… Chris is looking at her with this small little smile that grows the more he considers it. “I…” he shakes his head, a grin stretching his pretty lips, “I fucking love it,” he tells her, with so much genuine warmth in his tone. She’s never heard him this confident and proud , like a parent almost, glowing at her like she’s something brighter than a star. “That’s brilliant , Y/n, holy shit ! The fans will go nuts!” He leans close to inspect the design again with the new parameters in mind, shaking his hand as if disbelieving, smile remaining on his face. “You’re amazing .”

A hot, red blush spreads across her cheeks fiercely, and there’s a lingering urge to sit up straighter, to square her shoulders in pride and happiness, because she’s so happy he liked it¸ but she is now acutely aware of how close he is, still not having moved away from her since she pressed into him accidentally. She resorts to a one shouldered shrug. “Thank you,” her voice is meeker than she’d like it, but Chris doesn’t mention it. Instead, they share a smile.

“Ready?”

“I’m, unf, gimme a sec- I’m coming.” Some shuffling, and then the sound of the curtain being pulled back, and she puts her phone away, swiveling in her chair and- oh Christ.

“Chris… ” she says, eyes racking from the tops of his shoes, up his legs, his thighs, his belt. The way the comfortable material stretches over his fit stomach, up his curved chest, and extends up to the base of his neck- it’s, fuck, he looks so good. His veiny forearms are exposed to the warm lamp light in the room, and he’s not wearing the gloves, seeing as they’re sitting on her desk.

The dark blue of his suit makes his newly dyed hair look golden .

“How do I look?” He says with a grin, striking an exuberant pose just to make her smile, and she grins.

“I’ll give you like,” she pretends to think for a second, “a six out of ten.” A shrug and a bitten back smile, and his hand goes to his chest dramatically, thick eyebrows furrowing and blowing out a breath.

“Damn,” he tells her with a look in his eyes that she can’t really place, something teasing, but like they're sharing an inside joke of some kind. “Harsh critic,” it’s teasing and happy, and she chuckles, because yeah. This is quite perfect. She grabs his gloves off her desk and gets off her chair, going up to him and holding them for him to squeeze his hands in. She tightens some buckles, smooths a hand over the leathery material, making non-existent creases disappear.

A step back, she inspects the way the material hugs his thighs so nicely, but is also still baggy, to give him some freedom of movement. His boots are almost knee high, and- it actually looks like it might be a bit tight in the neck. She steps closer to him, barely tests the two buckles in front of his shoulders, checking that there’s give for him to move in. “It’s good? Comfortable, I mean?” A finger dragged between the collar of his top and his neck, purely professionally she swears, it was a subconscious move to check how much space there is for him to breathe and move his neck. And that’s the moment stupid Chris chooses to hum and she feels it in the exhale hitting her face, the vibration of his throat.

God .

Her lips purse and she squints a little, pulling back her hand. I can make this better , she decides. “Don’t move,” she orders and heads to her desk, grabbing some needle and a thread that matches the color of his suit, along with a small blade. She walks back up to him again and, with a careful hand on his chest and the threaded needle carefully placed between her lips, she makes a few, strategically placed rips near the star with the blade.

“Don’t stab me,” he says, tone low for a reason she can’t understand but makes a shiver run through her.

“Don’t give me ideas,” she counters, and Chris’s stomach shakes a little with a short, contained laugh. Continuing, she distresses the fabric, and patches up the edges so they won’t tear further during filming, allowing a string or two to stick out.

She is absolutely, of course, not ignoring how she can feel every single one of his breaths, and how he’s so good and still, and his hands are only a handful of inches away from her waist, his face hellishly close to hers.

A released exhale and a nod to herself. “Perfect,” she says quietly. She wraps the threaded needle around the handle of the blade so as to not lose it and throws it back on her desk haphazardly, to put away later. Unmoving from her spot near him, she gazes at the rips and decides it was a good addition. For just a second, it seems she forgets exactly how close he is, and now she looks up to him for approval, finding that same intent stare, straight into her soul from only three inches away.

There’s a sudden urge to shrink and disintegrate, confidence gone. Clothes she can handle. Chris she really can’t.

Baby blue eyes are watching her, standing perfectly still for her to do her thing, but there’s a, dare she say , affection of sorts in his gaze, and she’s very much struck with it. “You look great, Cap’n,” breathy and quiet, because she can’t fucking sit in silence when he looks at her like that. Chris smiles.

“All thanks to you.” A grin at the praise, at the lowered tone of his voice, as if he doesn’t want to break the moment with loud words. She should step back, b- but she physically cannot. Her muscles are seriously unwilling to move. This is her being weird, right? She’s crossing a line by taking advantage of his proximity, right? Why- He’s not showing any signs of awkwardness or discomfort though.

She’d like to know how one stretches a moment to eternity, a piece of knowledge she'd most certainly use right now. His cologne is the same as last week, when he visited in her office, comforting and musky, and he’s- he’s just looking at her with his beautiful eyes boring into hers, his warmth just centimeters away.

“You’re very close to me,” what a stupid thing to say , she scolds herself, but she just- she doesn’t know what else to do. Is it normal to feel such heat radiate from his body, or is that her mind playing tricks? She wants to curl into him, into said warmth, bury her nose in his neck and nuzzle there. It’s an urge that hits her like a tidal wave, and it almost makes her stagger on her feet. Her heart beats faster, inflated and full, adrenaline coursing through her veins all of a sudden. Chris swallows a little and nods. “What are you gonna do about it?”

There’s almost no charm in his tone, he looks borderline nervous, but there’s still some confidence in his velvety voice for him to flirt with her, the bastard and- she’s not imagining this, right? She’s not dreaming or anything? Chris actually enjoys this proximity, this closeness, he’s not pulling away. He just- he just sort of gave her consent to do something, anything. The ball is in her court, a challenge, proving she actually can do something about this.

With a shaky hand, she presses her palm flat on his chest.

A mental barrier is broken by that touch and Chris seems to curl closer, if possible. His gloved hand goes to her waist, holding her near him, his head dipping lower, and she’s standing on her tiptoes. Noses brushing together, a challenge, emphasized in the teasing curl of his lips, sharing the same air. Beard tickling her top lip as she inches closer. A small hand on his face, and she licks her lips instinctively, parts them a little- and closes the gap between them.

It’s soft and wet and everything she’s ever dreamt of really, and holy shit , she’s dreamt of this. It’s actually happening, right now. He’s in his dumb Captain America uniform, pulling her close so now their chests are pressed together, moving his lips against hers slowly, and his hands are in leather gloves with buckles on them. The thought makes her smile a little, to the point where now the kiss is all teeth, and he pulls back for a second, as if sensing her amusement.

“What?” he asks. Her forehead leans on his chest, a sad attempt to hide her grin. His arms, one wrapping around her waist, his other hand on her back.

“I’m kissing Captain America,” and Chris lets out a single, incredulous breath, eyes rolling to the back of his head as if to say, you’re unbelievable. She grins up at him, a challenging eyebrow raised. Am I wrong though?

Teeth trap her bottom lip and she worries it for a moment as they quiet again, lost in thought and looking at him absently. She wants to kiss him again. She likes how his hands are warm on her back, how his chest is lean under her. Leaning on her tiptoes again, she smiles softly and brushes her nose on his cheek affectionately, because it’s suddenly okay to do so, the hairs of his beard scratchy against her skin. Chris is not having it though, and he turns his head to capture her lips again.

It feels so good, she thinks, as she instinctively places gentle fingers on his jawline to keep him tilted to her. It’s like the world is blooming. Like her heart is bursting through the seams, chest far too small for it. She kisses him, and he holds her just this much closer.

She’s kissing Captain America. And it’s a damn good fucking kiss.

Tags: @thegetawaywriter

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x fem!reader #chris #chris fanfiction #chris fluff #chris evans fluff #chris evans one shot #mcu #mabel #captain america #steve rogers #ca:tfa #ca:tws #ca:cw #mcu rpf #:)

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