#Regardless thank you for your warm welcome and gestures. One of the things that always make me happy to be here :)

[queenshelby]

Massage Therapy (Part One of Two)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

It had been three years since you owned a day spa and, being one of the best in Dublin, you were almost always booked out.

You provided facials, therapeutic massages as well as relaxation techniques, including massages with hot oil ‒‒the last service being the most popular among professionals seeking to unwind. T

he elegant interior of your establishment, with its dim, warm lights, hushed tones, and earthy aromas, lulled the senses the moment clients stepped into the door. 

By word of mouth, you had acquired a loyal clientele, including many businessmen and important figures and, apparently, among them now was the famous actor, Cillian Murphy who had been referred to you by one of his friends.

He was a slim and handsome man, in his late forties, and you were quite excited to be massaging him when he walked in.

You first handed him a form to fill out with details such as his name, age, contact information, and medical history, as usual. While he completed the paperwork, you studied him from the corner of your eye. He moved with quiet grace, his hair glinting under the soft lights, his lips curling up in a ghost of a smile when he saw your spa.

When he finished filling out the form, he handed it over to you and followed you down a hallway lined with a series of private rooms. 

"Mr Murphy, this way please," you said, as you opened the door to the dimly lit massage room, in the middle of which stood a massage table, covered in fresh sheets. 

"Thank you," Cillian said, his voice low and measured, as he stepped inside, eyes trailing over the candles casting dancing shadows on the walls.

"You are welcome," you responded, as you walked over to the corner of the room to retrieve a bottle of warm oil for the session. "Now, when you are ready Mr Murphy, please get undressed. You can place your belongings into the locker over here while I leave the room to give you some privacy. Once you have undressed, please lay face down on the table, covering yourself with the sheet provided, alright?" I continued, nodding towards the locker, gesturing to ensure his comfort and to establish professionalism for the session.

"Sure," he replied, eyes meeting mine briefly, as you turned to exit the room.

As you waited outside the door, you took a few moments to compose yourself, to leave any personal thoughts behind and focus solely on the calming atmosphere of the room and your craft - it was crucial to provide Cillian with the best service possible, regardless of who he was. Although, truth be told, you were a little overexcited to be massaging  such a famous and handsome individual, but you quickly brushed those thoughts away.

Entering the room once more, you found Cillian lying face down on the massage table as instructed, dressed in just his briefs, with the thin sheet that was provided carefully draped over his lower body. 

"Are there any areas  you would like me to focus on, Mr Murphy?" you asked softly, while pouring the warm oil onto your cupped hands, rubbing them together briskly to infuse the oil with your warmth.

"No, just anything is fine," he replied  gruffly, as you began your work on him, starting up at his neck, and working your way down to his upper back. His tension had been obvious, but you could already feel it beginning to melt away from his body as you placed your hands on him. You worked the warm oil into his tired muscles, easing the knots and tension from his shoulders and neck.

As you were massaging his back, you couldn't help but notice the freckles on his pale skin. There were thousands of them  , tiny brown speckles scattered haphazardly across his shoulder blades and back. They were one of the many things about Cillian Murphy that made him an interesting subject to look at, but it was your duty to keep your mind on the job at hand, which was to make sure that he relaxed and felt zero tension. You were a professional, after all.

As you moved down from his shoulders and neck to his lower back, the atmosphere in the room shifted.

Your hand came to rest on his hips, and you could feel him tense slightly beneath your touch. You continued to apply pressure, massaging with long, deep strokes, focusing on the area where his tension remained.

Eventually, you adjusted the sheet slightly, revealing just enough of his thighs and hips to continue your work, while still maintaining his modesty. The tension in his body had lessened, but it was still present, especially in his hamstrings.

You started massaging his right leg first , focusing on the muscles that you knew would be the tightest, and working slowly to coax them to relax. As you worked your way down, you reminded yourself not to let your mind wander, and to focus on what you were doing. But it wasn't easy, for every touch, every stroke, sent a little thrill running through you. He was a handsome man, with a lean, toned body and a distinctive brooding charm that seemed almost palpable.

His legs were covered in some fine hairs. They were muscular, even despite his otherwise slim built and you and you  couldn't help but notice the veins that ran along the sides of his legs, pulsing with life as you rubbed them with your expert touch.

"Is the pressure okay?" you whispered, your fingers tracing the muscle contours of his lower legs with a gentle pressure, coaxing the tension out of them. 

"It's perfect," he murmur-replied, his voice gravelly with a hint of recognition in his tone. You shuttered at the sound of it, feeling a strange mix of pride and nervousness, knowing that he was enjoying it.

You continued your work on his legs, adjusting the sheet again before moving higher, to his upper thighs, just below his buttocks. 

Cillian's body tensed again, but the tension was not present in his muscles. This was different, there was something new, something that you hadn't felt before. 

"How's the pressure now?" you asked again, moving to his inner thigh now. 

He paused for a moment, considering your words.

"It's good," he finally said, his voice strained with a new type of tension that hadn't been there before as, unbeknownst to you, he slowly became aroused. 

Oblivious to this, you kept  on with your massage, your hands working their magic. As you glanced at your client's lower body, you saw the way his muscles were starting to flex slightly, but you did not think anything about it and moved towards the other leg, relishing in the smoothness of his skin under your touch.

You started with his lower thigh again and then moved to his upper thigh, slowly working your way inwards again.

You could feel the built-up tension in his muscles there, and you devoted your full attention to alleviating it. As you massaged the spot that was especially tight, Cillian let out a soft moan that registered on your radar, but you brought your focus back to the task at hand.

After some time, you felt that you had done sufficient work on the back and legs from this angle and you knew it was time for him to turn around.  "Alright Mr. Murphy, I am going to need you roll over onto your back so that I may continue to work on your chest and arms," you instructed him softly, while still maintaining your professional demeanor, even if your heart fluttered at a faster rate.

"Uhm, I," he began , hesitating before continuing. "I can't. I need to...," he stammered, causing you to offer him some assistance.

"Would you like me to help you to turn around?" you offered in a soft tone.

"No, I mean, I can do that myself, but I shouldn't because I'm a bit uncomfortable right now," Cillian admitted, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

A feeling of realization dawned on you, and your cheeks flushed in return. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself of your profession and that this kind of situation could arise every now and then. With that, you reassured him.

"Don't worry, that's perfectly normal and I will ensure that sheet provided will cover your modesty," you reassured Cillian with a soft and gentle voice, making sure not to make this moment any awkward or uncomfortable than it already was.

Cillian took a deep breath, and then slowly began to turn onto his back, revealing his lean but toned body. You took a moment to admire the sight while reminding yourself to stay focused on the task at hand.

"I am sorry. This hasn't happened to me before," Cillian murmured. You could see the embarrassment color his cheeks, but there was also an honesty in his voice and eyes that resonated with you.

"It happens, Mr Murphy," you replied with a gentle smile, trying to put him at ease. "It's actually not that uncommon," you reassured him as you covered his eyes with cloth, waiting for him to catch his breath, to compose himself. "Now just relax," you then continued before looking at the obvious. 

His erection was evident beneath the sheet, but you said nothing, choosing instead to continue working as you normally would.

Without saying anything else, you focused on his arms, kneading the muscles to ease the knots and tension before moving on to his chest.

Running your hands through his chest hair,  you could feel each rib, each muscle expanding and contracting under your touch as he breathed in and out and, even though you spent almost twenty more minutes on his upper body only, his erection did not abate.

Knowing that you had caused this made you feel slightly guilty, but also somewhat empowered and, with that, curiosity got the better of you and you decided to return to his legs again.

This time, you focused your attention on the front of his thighs, and you could feel the tension there as well. You did your best to ignore the growing bulge beneath the sheet, and concentrated instead on providing a soothing and relaxing massage experience for Cillian.

You worked your way up his legs with long, sweeping strokes, and felt the muscle gradually start to relax under your trained hands. You could sense that Cillian was feeling more at ease as well, and he let out a deep sigh as he seemed to drift away into a state of pure relaxation until your hand drifted to his upper inner thigh again.

His erection twitched  upon contact, but, determined to remain professional and to finish the massage, you continued with your relaxed, rhythmic massaging motion, allowing the gentle movement to work on his tightened muscles.

Your fingers continued to glide lovingly, assertively, and with focus on the inner thighs, assessing their tension while taking the occasional, surreptitious glance at the sheet covering his lower torso. Underneath it, Cillian's erection still throbbed steadily and, after having now seen this man mostly naked and aroused, you wondered what it would be like to touch him intimately.

You had never before entertained such a fascination with a client, and tried to push the thought aside, but as your fingers moved up his thighs once more, tracing the firm muscles and lingering on the most sensitive areas, you knew you couldn't deny it any longer.

He was straining, almost painfully  against the fabric beneath the sheet and you found it difficult to keep your focus on massaging his inner thighs. You glanced up at him, noticing his lips tightly closed as he focused on keeping himself together.

This moment hung heavy in the air, the tension building between you, almost palpable. It was obvious that he was holding back, and you wondered if you should continue the massage or stop.

But as you looked back at him, you saw his teeth clenching slightly, and he didn't seem to be making any moves to change position.

A sudden realization came over you - this was your chance to act on the desire that had been building inside of you since the moment he walked in, so you asked  him softly, "Mr. Murphy, would you like me to take care of that for you?" and glanced down to his lower body, pointing at the evidence of his arousal pushing against the sheet.

"I can relieve that tension for you too, if you  would like," you suggested, your voice barely above a whisper, though every word was clear and steady. He opened his mouth, about to protest.

"Uhm, I am married, I shouldn't be..." he murmured awkwardly, but then hesitated. You knew this could be your only chance with him, so you pounced.

"That's alright, I do not usually offer this kind of service," you told him. "But, it's just a massage and I can use my hands to alleviate your tension down there, without anyone else having to know about it."

"Uhm, okay," Cillian finally agreed, his voice barely above a whisper, as a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

"Perfect, so I will remove the sheet now and continue with your massage," you stated calmly, doing just that as you were met with the unobstructed view of his throbbing erection.

As expected, Cillian reflexively pulled at the sheet to cover himself, but you gently held it in place while explaining, "Mr. Murphy, please trust me when I say that this will help relieve even more tension in your body."

With a slight nod, he released the sheet and closed his eyes, leaving you free to continue.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on the insides of his thighs and slowly spread them apart. The oil from the massage made them slick and easy to move, and you took full advantage as you began to knead and massage the muscles there.

As you worked, your fingers grazed the base of his shaft, causing him to inhale sharply. You glanced up at him, but continued your ministrations, moving your hands higher up his thighs and closer to his erection while taking in the sight. 

His manhood  was visible now, pulsating and rock hard, with a thick vein running down its length. Your mouth watered as you felt the steely heat radiating from his body, desires swirling and building within you.

"Ah, fuck!" Cillian groaned as you caressed the sensitive underside of his length.

"Shh, it's alright. Just relax," you whispered softly, running one of your oiled up hands over his pubic  area, gently working your way around his shaft. Your heart was pounding in your chest, but you managed to keep your cool. You couldn't believe that you were doing this. You were masturbating Cillian Murphy, a famous actor, during a massage session. It was something that you had never done before, and it was thrilling in a way that you couldn't quite put into words.

With a flick of your wrist and a bit more pressure, you began stroking his shaft with slow, steady movements, making sure that each stroke was deliberate yet soft, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his form.

"Is the pressure okay for you?" you asked softly, continuing your hand movements up and down his shaft, giving him a surge of pleasure with each stroke.

"Uhhmm, yes..." Cillian muttered breathlessly, unable to form complete sentences from the sensations coursing through his body.

You smiled at his response, feeling encouraged as you continued your hand movements, using the oil to smooth the way, making certain to caress each sensitive inch of him.

You could feel the tension rising in your own body as well, desire pooling between your thighs as you admired Cillian's form beneath your touch. It had been a long time since you had felt such attraction towards someone, and the excitement was overwhelming.

The moan that escaped from Cillian's mouth at your every touch was guttural, and you knew then that he was enjoying the sensation. With one more deep breath, you let your hands glide fully over his straining cock, beginning to massage it slowly with a deliberate pace that caused an air of urgency to grow more prevalent within the room.

You glanced at Cillian and saw him biting his lip, as though trying to contain the moan that threatened to escape him.

"Just relax," you whispered softly, allowing your hand to slide down his penis to cup his balls gently while the other hand worked its way up from the base, tracing each vein that ran along its shaft. 

"Fuck," he groaned, as you continued your steady rhythm, applying the right amount of pressure to cause waves of pleasure to course through his body.

You felt him grow even more rigid in your hands and, with a quick glance, you saw that his eyes were still tightly shut. You knew he was on the brink and, instead of holding back, you decided to bring him over the edge.

"You're so close," you murmured, your breath hot against his ear as moisture pooled between your thighs. "Let it all out." 

You increased the pace of your hands and, with your thumb, massaged the sensitive spot right below the head of his cock. His back arched off the table and a strangled noise left his lips.

You moved your hand faster, dripping oil everywhere, as he gripped the table for dear life. His thighs clenched tightly, and you could physically feel every muscle in his body tensing as his orgasm raced through him. A low, guttural cry echoed through the room, and his seed erupted from his cock, covering your hand and the sheet below.

Watching his cum  spurt from his cock was oddly mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but stare as each spasm took hold of him.

Cillian came hard and fast, his muscles tense and body aching uncontrollably. The sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him was mind-numbing, intensified by your attentive ministrations.

His breathing was labored, his chest rising and falling rapidly as your hands slowed down to a gentler stroke.

You marveled at what had just transpired. This famous actor had climaxed all over your hands, and you couldn't help but feel a bit thrilled by the experience.

"Jesus Christ." Cillian mumbled under his breath, clearly in shock of what he had just experienced.

He opened his eyes, his vision a bit hazy as he took in your form - you, his massage therapist, whose hands had just brought him to an unparalleled climax.

Cillian laid there, half-stunned and entirely spent, taking a moment to regain his bearings as you slowly pulled your hands away from his softening shaft.

You could feel the blood pulsing in your own ears as you took in the sight of him - the glistening mess that remained on his chest, the redness from exertion staining his cheeks, and the way his eyes seemed to have lost all thoughtful intensity.

It was a vulnerable, intimate look that he gave you before speaking up softly. "I am sorry for the mess," he stammered , unable to meet your gaze directly, his cheeks reddening once more.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, "There's no need to apologize, Mr. Murphy, it is completely natural and to be expected after what we just did," your voice still gentle and soothing. "If you could just lay there for a few more minutes, please, so that I can clean you up and give you a moment to compose yourself before we conclude the session," you offered, with sincerity dripping from your voice.

You took a damp washcloth and gently began to clean Cillian's stomach and chest, taking extra care around his still sensitive area. He groaned softly as your warm hand touched him, but didn't stop you. Once he was clean, you threw the cloth into a hamper.

"Now I will leave you to get dressed and you can meet me at the front desk," you said softly, looking at the gorgeous, satiated man lying before you.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice laced with gratitude as well as a hint of regret. "That was..." he faltered, searching for the right word. "Really nice ."

You smiled at his honesty. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Mr. Murphy." You were satisfied to see him more relaxed and satisfied than he was when he arrived.

You exited the massage room, giving him privacy to get dressed. Your heartbeat was still racing as you replayed the events in your mind. It was an unusual occurrence, but something about Cillian Murphy drew you in, and you couldn't help but feel a connection with him.

At the reception desk, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down.

Your hands were still shaking from the adrenaline rush of what had just occurred. The thought of being so close to a famous actor, and satisfying him in this way, was a thrill unlike anything you had ever experienced before. You gathered your thoughts and prepared to greet Cillian as he walked out of the massage room, but the encounter was not what you expected.

As Cillian entered the reception area, his expression was unreadable. You greeted him with a small smile, but his gaze remained distant, as if he was replaying the events in his mind.

"Did you find the massage enjoyable, Mr. Murphy?" you asked, keeping your tone professional and even.

"It was...yes...it was quite unique," he finally said, meeting your gaze with a look that you couldn't quite decipher.

"I'm glad to have been of service, Mr. Murphy," you replied, aware that the tension between you was palpable.

Cillian remained silent for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts.

"I should pay for the massage now," he finally said, reaching for his wallet. "But I have to ask, what are the additional charges for the extra services you provided?" he inquired, his expression a mix of curiosity and uncertainty as he blushed heavily.

"No additional charges. Like I said, I do not usually provide this kind of service as this is a reputable business," you answered, with a carefully nonchalant smile, avoiding any appearance of awkwardness. "Your payment for the massage covers the entire session, regardless of how things progressed, although I was wondering whether I would see you again for another session,"  you added, measuring the mood, hopeful that there might be a possibility of future encounters.

Cillian looked at you, his eyes searching yours for a sign of genuine interest, before finally replying, "I, uhm, yeah. I guess I would like that."

"Great, because there is another type of massage that I would love to try on you. It will make you feel even more relaxed," you said, trying to gauge his interest.

"What kind of massage?" he asked with a curious expression.

The anticipation was playing its role, and you took a deep breath, "Well, it's called a prostate massage," you admitted softly, continuing to maintain eye contact as you gauged his reaction.  

"Okay. That's new, but how about next week? Same time?" Cillian said, as he raised his eyebrows at your proposition. He had heard of this kind of massage before but had never tried it.

You completed his checkout and handed him his receipt. Your hands brushed as the paper was transferred and, suddenly, that bit of contact felt incredibly intimate and intense.

"Excellent, I'll see you next week," you said, the excitement clear in your voice.

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[siampie]

Finding You||Chapter 5

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/tags: pinning, childhood trauma, eldest daughter syndrome, mention of emotional abuse, abandonment issues

A/N: Enjoy this chapter, you guys. Comments and reblogs are always welcomed, greatly advised and strongly appreciate.

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Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie; @sunflowersandsapphires; @schneeflocky; @danzer8705; @ebathory997;

@shouldbestudying41; @beezusvreeland; @lulukings92

Dividers by @cafekitsune

You felt safe in his arms. They were solid, strong and warm. And there, standing in your kitchen, he was giving you the comfort you had longed for the night before. Eventually, you had to pull away from him. Reluctantly.

 You cleared your throat, taking a step back away from him. “Thanks for—uh, listening and staying.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

“No worries,” Michael scratched the back of his neck. “I was just being a good neighbor.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Were you now?” You glanced up at him. “Is that becoming our thing or something?”

“Might be.” He chuckled. “Hey,” His eyes were on you, roaming over your face. He had not yet stepped away from you. “If you need me, I’m right next door. For anythin’. Just—don’t hesitate, alright?”

You nodded slowly, “I won’t.”

His kind and warm hazel eyes stared deeply into yours. The intensity of his stare clashed with the softness of his eyes. And it only drew you in further. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes drawn to the gesture. His hands tentatively came to rest on your arms. When you didn’t pull away, his fingers wrapped around your biceps as he took a step closer. Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart beat faster under your ribcage. But not out of fear, this time.

The tension in the room grew thicker. In this moment, you were drawn to each other. Your palms rested against his chest. The intensity of his gaze ignited a fire within you. You had not had many relationships in your life. Practically none. You had been stuck your entire life taking care of your dad and your siblings. You barely had time to take care of yourself or even enjoyed going out with friends. Let alone being part of the dating scene. To put it bluntly, you had never seriously dated anyone. Many things were still unfamiliar to you. And Michael’s intense stare was one of them. You had never had anyone stare at you the way Michael was. It excited and scared you at the same time.

You fisted his shirt, involuntarily stepping closer to him. Your body somehow being drawn to him. One of his hands slid up your arm and cupped your jaw, as he gently brought his forehead to yours. His breath fanned over your face. Your eyes landing on his lips. You felt suddenly ashamed. You wanted to kiss him. You only had to lean up but—he would know. He would know as soon as you kissed him that you were cruelly lacking experiences. And he was Michael Kinsella, you were sure he had his fair share of experiences with women. You were sure he had dated more than a few. How could he have not? Anyone with two eyes and a beating heart would be attracted to Michael Kinsella, regardless of his familial background.

Your pulse quickened in anticipation because in spite of your lacking in experience, you wanted to kiss him. You really did. And he shifted his head slightly, clearly going for the kiss. You stopped breathing in anticipation, waiting for his lips to meet yours. Your eyes had fallen shut—

The shrill sound of your ringtone startled you. You pulled away with a gasp, your almost kiss interrupted. “Shit,” you cussed. Both you and Michael had turned to where the sound came from. You glared at the device, internally cussing your brother for not taking the hint and ruining the mood.

You let go of Michael’s shirt and stepped away from him. Michael cleared his throat, rubbing the back on his neck awkwardly. Whatever spell that had drawn you both to one another, was broken. The call went unanswered while you both stood in your kitchen, coming to terms with what had almost transpired.

“I should—I’ll leave ya to it.” Michael stammered as he moved to the door. You nodded quickly and proceeded to follow him to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he turned to you. “I was wondering if I could take you out for a drink, someday.” He said cautiously. “I’d like to get to know you better.”

You huffed out a laugh. “Are you asking me out on a date, Michael?”

“Yeah, maybe I am.” He smirked.

You looked away from him, flustered. You felt suddenly shy and giddy, a grin bloomed over your face. You tried to school your features but failed. Michael now looked amused at your reaction. “I would love to have a drink with you. Someday.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your phone rang again. “Fucking hell,” you groaned. “I should probably—”

Michael hummed, nodding. “Yeah.” He reached for the door. “See you later.”

“See ya.” You retorted; you grabbed the door as he stepped outside. “And thanks for checking up on me.”

“Just being a good neighbor.”

You let out a long breath. “Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight, pet.”

You felt yourself deflate as soon as the door closed. The last thing you wanted at this moment was to deal with your brother. So, you blocked his number. You didn’t want to cut all ties with your brother but you were seriously considering it. The problem was that cutting all ties with your brother, it also meant severing ties with your beloved nephews and nieces. You could not fathom a life without them in it. After all, you loved those kids as though they were your own.

It was a last resort effort to get your point across. Maybe with the threat of you no longer being part of his life, he would change his attitude and apologize. You wished he could just be supportive and respectful of your wishes. You just didn’t how this would happen, your brother was stuck in his own ways.

But so, were you.

You walked past Jimmy’s house that morning, as you did every day. A flock of people were slowly walking inside their home, to pay their respect.

It was Jamie’s funeral.

The hearse was waiting in their driveway. You paused in front of the driveway, catching Birdy’s eyes. She came to you, spreading her arms as though offering you comfort.

“Morning, pet.” She greeted softly as her arms wrapped around you.

“Morning, Birdy.” You dropped your bag, before hugging her tightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Heartbroken.” She pulled away from you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Birdy.” You told her sincerely. You gripped her hands in yours, tightly before bringing them to your lips. You laid a kiss on her knuckles. “If you need anything, anything at all, just let me know.”

“Thanks, pet.” Birdy smiled at you, fondly.

“I’m sorry, I can’t stay longer. I wish I could but—”

“’s alright. You need to go to work, I get that.” She nodded. You picked up your bag from the ground. She adjusted the collar of your coat. “I let Michael know you said hi.”

You blushed at the mention of his name, “Yeah—yeah, uh, thanks.” You stammered out before fleeing the scene.

Jamie’s funeral was all the local news was speaking of. It was all anyone could talk about at work.

“With a family like that, how could he have a good life.” Some commented. “It was bound to happen anyway.”

Maybe those people were right, with growing up in a family like this, it was expected to happen. Their offspring would either die in a shooting, or end up in jail. Unfortunately, some of them did not choose this life, they were born into it. And a life was still a life. Jamie might have been born a Kinsella but he didn’t deserve this.

Your thoughts drifted to Michael. You remembered how broken he was the night Jamie died. And you could only imagine how pained he was today. There wasn’t much you could do for him, apart from offering him comfort. Not that you thought it would be enough.

You thought back to what had occurred in your small kitchen the day before. The intensity of his gaze, his calloused fingers on your jaw, how his nose had brushed against yours, as his head shifted so he could kiss you. A kiss, mind you, that never was, thanks to your brother. You let out a deep breath. You didn’t hold out much hope for another moment like this to happen in the near future. In spite of his asking you out on a date. He might realize during the date that you weren’t all that. Or someday might never come. Michael might change his mind before he even thought of a day to take you out.

You didn’t trust that anyone wanted you. And it was really hard to think otherwise, in spite of what people told you. After all, if your own mother did not want you, how would anyone else? Your father remained and raised you, still, the scar your mother left when she walked out, was deeper than anything. Stronger than the love your father had shown you. Because your father loved you, however, he had not been great either. He was unforgiving when it came to you, really. Your mistakes were bigger and far more unforgivable than your siblings’. You always felt he favored your siblings over you, and it didn’t do much to lessen the scar left by your mother’s leaving. It created more opened wounds that did not entirely healed in time.  

You had felt unwanted for most of your life. And now, it was hard to believe that Michael Kinsella sincerely wanted to know you better.

You were doubtful.

He had just been released from prison and maybe, he was just looking for an easy lay. Who really knew?

Maybe you should give him a chance. Maybe he was different. Maybe he was looking for something more than just an easy lay.

You could only hope.

Both of your siblings, those you were still talking to, had called you during your lunch time. They knew what had transpired between you and Dave. And you’d let them know what your intentions were. Your sister, the eternal peacekeeper, didn’t want you to go forth with it. As for your brother; Matthew; he fully supported your decision. He even offered to come stay with you for a few days. Which you refused.

For now.

“At least, let me beat his ass.” Matthew groaned on the phone.

“He’s older than you.” You reminded him.

“I can take him. I’m stronger than he is.” Matthew defended.

Which was true, he was military now. He lifted, he also received combat training. You didn’t doubt that he could kick Dave’s teeth in.

“It’s not what I meant.” You snorted. “I mean he’s older, thus, you owe him respect or something.”

“Sure.” He shot back, sarcastically. “You know what I think about that, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“I don’t owe him respect just cause he’s older.” He continued. “Respect is earned. And he hasn’t done anything so far, to earn it from me.”

“True.” You puffed out a sigh. “Still, I don’t want you to do that. Just don’t bother. Not for me.”

“You’re right, he’s not worth it.” Matthew said. “Listen, do what you need to, to protect yourself, okay? And if you need me, I’m here. Always.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, feeling your heart swell with love for your brother. “I know. Thanks—asshole.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I gotta go. Be safe—asshole.”

“Yeah, you too.”

You didn’t want him to put his life on hold for you, although, it was nice to know he would. You wouldn’t ask him to, though. You missed your little brother. You really did. You wiped the tears away as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom. You, sometimes, felt alone in Dublin, away from your family. Away from your little brother, specifically. You made that choice for yourself, and he supported you. Still, it wasn’t easy every day. Birdy had made it easy on you. And lately, so had Michael.

You changed out of your work clothes, grabbing your pillow and covers before going back down. You set up your couch for the night. You found it easier to sleep on your couch than in your bed. With your television playing in the background, lulling you to sleep, your nightmares weren’t as vivid as they were a few days before. And you didn’t feel safe enough to sleep in your bedroom yet.

As you went about your evening, cooking your dinner, drinking a bit of coffee, you thought about checking up on Michael. You wanted to know how he was feeling after the funeral. Not great, you supposed. You had knocked on his door earlier, after you had come back from work. But it was left unanswered. You thought he might have still been at Jimmy’s, so, you didn’t insist.

“Hello?” You had answered your phone, sitting in front of your television, enjoying your dinner. You didn’t think much of it, since all the problematic people, those you didn’t want to talk to, had been blocked. “Hello?” You said again when there was no answer.

“Sweetheart?” The person on the other end said. You recognized your mother’s voice.

Your stomach dropped, and you stopped breathing. You blanked; you should have hung up immediately. You should have told her to never call you again. Those were the things you should have told her. But a part of you, the little girl that resided within you, couldn’t bring herself to do so. You were terrified, and thrilled to hear her voice. And you couldn’t bring yourself to hang up on her.

You thought that after all those years of not seeing her, you would have forgotten how she sounded. But her voice was still the same. It had not changed at all, and the sound of her voice had stirred something in you. A longing for her that you believed to be long gone. Because in spite of everything, she was still your mother. And you still loved her. You were terrified to hear her voice, but you were thrilled to hear her after so many years. And you hated that you were.

You should have hung up.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” She said when you didn’t answer.

“I know.” Your voice sounded small, even to your own ears.

“It’s good to hear you, baby.”  

Why was she using all those pet names? Why was she acting as though she loved you?

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

You wished your voice would be stronger, louder. You wished you could scream, yell at her. But all you could muster was this small and quiet voice. You sounded as though you were afraid you would scare her away.

“I know, honey.” She retorted, “you don’t have to talk. I just want you to hear me out.”

“Stop calling me honey, or—or sweetheart, or—or—even baby.” You stammered out, tears pressing against your eyes. You hated that you sounded distraught. If you could hear it, she could hear it. and then, she’d know that she still had some sort of power over you.

“I don’t want to listen to you. You had plenty of years to make me listen. And now, it’s too late. I don’t want to listen to you anymore.”

She called your name softly, “please.” She begged. “I know I haven’t been great but—I would love to see you again. I would love—to talk to you. Please, just give me a chance.”

“No.” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat, wiping the tears away. “No more chances. Don’t call me ever again.”

“I’m in Ireland.” She said quickly before you could hang up.

Your heart dropped. “What?” you breathed out shakily.

“I’m in Dublin.” She continued. “And I would love it if we could have a chat.”

It felt as though you had been knocked out. This couldn’t be real. “No,” you whimpered. She couldn’t be in Dublin. She couldn’t be there. This wasn’t real. You must be having a nightmare. It must be.

“—what do you say?”

“I—I—I can’t.” You stammered out, shaking your head. “I don’t want to see you. I can’t.”

You hung up before she could say anything else. She was in Ireland; in Dublin. She had probably made the journey with her husband. This wasn’t supposed to happen. They were never supposed to come to Ireland of all places. You stood up on shaky legs, your phone dropped on the floor. This sense of impending doom hit you right in the chest. Your lungs felt as though they weren’t getting enough air.

Without truly thinking about it, you started towards your door. Anything, he said. Anything at all. All you needed to do was to knock on his door and he’d be there. However, the hue of blue and red flashing through your door, had you frozen at the door. Had something happened again? Who was it this time? Michael?

You pulled your door open. You had barely stepped outside that a guard urged you back inside your home. As they pushed you back inside, you caught a glimpse of Michael. He was alive and well. He was being taken away by the guards, handcuffed.

Michael Kinsella was being arrested.

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[fictional-men-have-my-heart]

Day 25

Hello all! Welcome to day 25! Merry Christmas to those celebrating, and I hope everyone had a good day regardless, celebration or not.

I'm gonna use a few of my previous musings here to create a bit of a list regarding what you'd give the gents of the 141, Los Vaqueros, and Konig for Christmas. Imagine having a small little Christmas together before everyone goes their separate ways prior to a short leave.

(I made the dialogue attributed to "you" italicized this time since there's so much more than usual.)

Gaz has been pulled in by Price to prepare food this time, since he's shown his skills before and now is the designated help.

You had tried to help, but got shooed away by Gaz and the Captain.

"Go bug Soap or something, keep him out of here please."

You did just that, finding Rudy, Alejandro, and Soap gathered in the living space with cards in their hands.

Ghost is sitting off in a corner, a book held in his hands.

A small tree had been set up in a corner, much smaller than the majority of your sundry crew. Lights were strung about it and lined the edges of the ceiling, casting the room in a warm off-white glow.

"How'd ya always beat me, Colonel?" Soap gripes, watching the man slide the small stack of chips toward himself.

"You've just got to be better at perception, cabrón." Alejandro gloats.

You settle onto the couch, the gents playing gathered on the floor around the coffee table.

"Want us to deal you in?" Rudy asks. You shake your head in response.

"I'm worse than Soap when it comes to cards."

You watched for a while, Konig appearing in your peripheral after a little. You gestured to the couch beside you and he sits, watching the ever-growing frustration on Soap's face and the mirth on Alejandro and Rudy's.

Ghost seems to finish the book he had, and begins watching too, even trying to offer pointers to Soap.

"I wouldn't do that Johnny." He murmurs. Soap looks over his shoulder.

"Lot of bloody help you are." He huffs. Ghost then moves to sit on the floor with them.

"Deal me in next, I'm gonna kick your ass sergeant." You raised your eyebrows and shared a look with Konig, thinking things just got even more interesting.

Dinner was even more cramped than the first time, having added a 6'10" body to the mix.

Alejandro had laid claim to the couch next to Konig when you got up, and you merely shrugged, sitting on the floor again.

You stopped everyone before they retired to their bunks, a grin on your face at the confusion your teammates wore.

You had been working for months to secure and hide a few things for them.

For Price, you had grabbed cigars he liked and a warm beanie.

For Ghost, a new book similar to the one you had first borrowed, plus some ghost-themed bookmarks.

For Soap, a sketchbook and good drawing pencils, a small bar of soap drawing tucked inside the cover.

For Gaz, a blank recipe book where he could write his own. (Though you encouraged him to share).

For Alejandro, you found a good quality travel-sized sewing kit and a thermal shirt, since he was all the way in the UK with you all for now.

For Rudy, you gave him a few CDs of bands he'd mentioned he liked to dance to.

For Konig, you bought a couple of CDs of classical piano music and a small travel booklet of some songs.

The team was somewhat speechless at the gifts, that is until Soap stood and crushed you in a hug.

The rest of the team followed, with Konig and Ghost offering you thank yous and a fistbump and handshake respectively.

They promised they'd try and bring something back with them when they returned, but you had waved them off.

"Merry Christmas guys. Travel safe."

[gladerscake]

Blind Spots

(Gally x Reader)

Another lengthy one, because self-restraint means nothing to me. Major fluff ahead. Hope you enjoy!

Gally was back, and it was nothing short of a miracle. All this time, for the last six months, your grieving heart had wept for him, quietly, while you did your best to put on a brave facade and seem alright on the outside. You always made sure that none of your friends could see exactly how much pain you were in. They didn’t need to know. They couldn’t have done anything to change it, and their looks of pity wouldn’t have helped in the slightest. So you kept it locked away, only letting it torment you at night, while everyone else were asleep and couldn’t hear you cry.

And now, seeing him again, alive and relatively unharmed… Truthfully, you were still processing it, but even through your heavy state of shock, every fiber of your being was reeling with joy and relief. You felt a little light-headed, but in the best possible way. Feeling his muscular arms around you again, his warm embrace, looking into his piercing bluish-green eyes that shined into yours with the same undiluted love they had back in the glade… It had almost made you dizzy, and you were surprised at yourself for not having passed out - for a moment there, it felt like you might have.

You never stopped loving Gally, not for one moment. Despite having been convinced you’d never see him again, there was no force in the world strong enough to make you forget him or even begin letting him go.

Having him back filled you with a happiness you had long given up on experiencing ever again. You hadn’t felt anything close to it since the day you thought you’d lost him. The worst day of your life, your most haunting memory… No. You refused to think about it again. It didn’t matter anymore, because Gally was alive, and that’s what you needed to focus on. The light inside you, the one you thought had died with him, was flickering back to life again. It was flourishing and spreading with each passing second, as you realized you were no longer bound to imagine a future that he wouldn’t be in. The bleak and cheerless future you had laid out for yourself was rapidly dispersing before your eyes, giving way to something brighter, something much more hopeful and promising.

However, as much as you wanted to let the euphoria of having Gally by your side again consume you entirely, you knew you couldn’t. Not completely. You still had a mission, a dangerous and inordinately challenging one - rescuing Minho. You could already feel what a “fun adventure” this was going to be…

You had just met Lawrence, and although he’d initially stated that only two people were allowed to be shown the way into the city, Gally managed to bargain for three. The third one being, unsurprisingly, you. He had just got you back, and he wasn’t ready to let you out of his sight, if he had anything to say about it. Not that you minded - you had no desire to be far away from him either. You’d had more than enough of that.

“So… That’s the dead boyfriend, huh?” Brenda asked with a cheeky smile as she walked beside you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Gally was walking ahead, leading you all somewhere only he knew, as you were making sure to keep up.

“Yeah… That’s him.” You responded, keeping your voice down, a slightly dazed grin pulling at the corner of your lips. ‘Not dead anymore’ your heart seemed to whisper in utter excitement.

“He’s different from what I’d imagined!” Your dark-haired friend mused out loud, causing your brow to quirk upwards as you shot her a confused glance.

“Different how?”

“Just different…” Brenda shrugged, her smile widening before she lightly punched you in the arm. “But I’m happy for you, Y/N. Really. Most people don’t get a second chance like this.”

Your grin grew brighter, eyes landing on Gally’s broad back as your abdomen swarmed with butterflies. You were well aware of how minuscule the odds were of a past love ‘coming back from the dead’. Yet, a part of you couldn’t help but feel like, maybe, after all you and Gally had endured, you deserved that second chance.

“I know…”

Soon enough, Gally led you all into a closed-off area of the base, a rather filthy room with a large covered pothole in the middle and a ladder propped up against one of the walls. You took a moment to examine your surroundings, while the rest did the same, all exchanging equally questioning looks.

Before you could ask what this place was, you suddenly felt a large and warm hand descend onto your shoulder. There was no way for you to not know, immediately, who it belonged to. Your question died in your throat as you turned around to face him.

Gally squeezed your shoulder with as much comfort as he could manage, his bright eyes staring, deeply, into yours, making your heart leap. There was so much he wanted to do, so much he wanted to tell you and talk to you about, but the number of people surrounding you was preventing him from doing so. He so badly wanted to be alone with you. Even if just for a few minutes… All he could do was hope that there will be time for that later. You two had plenty to catch up on, and he couldn’t wait for a chance at it.

“You alright? You’re not hurt, are you?” He whispered, hoarsely, scanning you for any sign of even minor injury.

You breathed a slightly quivering chuckle, shaking your head and covering Gally’s hand with your own, the mere contact reminding you of the closeness you and him once shared… and will share again, now that he was back.

“I’m okay, definitely. Much better now…” You whispered in response, your eyes gleaming up at him. A small but sincere smile formed on his lips as he looked at you. He knew what you meant by that - he felt the exact same way. He had been afraid that after everything that’s happened, your feelings for him may have dimmed, or even worse, trickled away altogether. But with the way you were looking at him now, with such warmth and sheer affection, Gally felt those heartbreaking thoughts melt away. You still loved him. Just as much as he loved you. Even if only one person was genuinely happy to see him again, he couldn’t be more thankful that it was you.

Ignoring the presence of your friends, Gally pressed a loving kiss to your forehead. You bit down on your bottom lip, the sweet gesture almost bringing fresh tears to your eyes. However, the next moment, he drew back, gazing down at you “I’ll be right back, okay? I need to grab a couple things before we can go.”

You nodded, understandingly, giving his hand a soft squeeze before letting go “Of course.. We’ll be right here.”

Gally delivered you one more subtle smile before leaving you and the others to look around a bit.

“By the looks of it, we’re going down the bloody sewer.” Newt assumed, eyeing the pothole with slight confusion and just a hint of disgust.

“Wouldn’t be the worst place you’ve been to so far, no?” Jorge scoffed, arms folded on his chest as he stayed close to Brenda.

Frypan chuckled, lowly, glancing at the ladder “True that…”

Although most of your friends had seemingly chosen to look away and act oblivious to your and Gally’s little exchange, one person had not.

Thomas’ dark eyes darted to you, uneasily, every muscle in his body strained and jaw clenched, tensely, as he nudged you in the side.

“Y/N… Can we talk for a second?” He all but grunted, clearing his throat.

“No.” The blatant response tumbled from your lips without hesitation, despite the calmness of your tone.

You already knew what was on his mind. You didn’t want to hear it. Thomas was a close friend and very dear to your heart, but this wasn’t something he had a say in. You knew how he felt about Gally, so naturally, the thought of you two together again did not particularly thrill him. Nonetheless, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. If Thomas had a problem with it, then that’s just something he would have to learn to deal with.

“Y/N…” Thomas tried again, more insistently this time “Please…”

You felt him grip your forearm, not hard enough for it to hurt, but hard enough to let you know that he needed to speak with you, now, and he wouldn’t let go until you at least attempted to hear him out.

Drawing in a heavy sigh, you shot him a sharp pointed look.

“Fine.” You muttered, curtly. You decided you would give him a chance to just get it off his chest. Nothing he’d say could possibly change your mind, regardless.

With that, Thomas briskly slipped out of the room, as you reluctantly followed him. Once you two were a few feet away from the others, you halted to a stop, not wanting to go too far.

“Can’t imagine what’s so urgent.” You huffed, quietly, your arms crossing as you stared, expectantly, at your friend. “Well? Come on, let’s hear it.”

Thomas frowned, his features painted with exasperation “Y/N, before you go running back to him-“

“I already did.” You hastily cut him off, trying to keep your expression as placid as you could. “Thomas, there’s nothing you can do. You know how I feel.”

He grimaced, his mind refusing to wrap around it. What was it about Gally? How could you so easily forget what had happened and welcome him back with open arms?

“Seriously…? After what he did?” He stared at you in disbelief, dark brown eyes narrowing.

You gritted your teeth, staring right back at him, endeavouring to suppress your own bubbling comtempt for the subject “What happened to Chuck wasn’t Gally’s fault.”

“He shot him, Y/N!”

“It was an accident, Thomas!” Your voice had risen, finally, your hands clenching into fists. You had had this exact argument with him before and you couldn’t stand hearing it for one more second. “Whether you want to admit it or not! You were there - you know exactly what happened!”

Thomas, much to your surprise, fell silent. His mouth twitched as he looked at you as if you weren’t making any sense. Yet, deep down, even though he despised the idea of conceding, a small part of him knew you weren’t entirely wrong.

You took advantage of his silence and continued. You had every intention of standing your ground on this. “Gally never would’ve hurt Chuck! He wasn’t aiming for him! And what part of “he was stung” keeps getting lost on you? Have you forgotten what that does to a person? Because I haven’t!”

“Yeah, he was stung, but he could have-“

“No, he couldn’t have!” Your hands were practically shaking by now, a lump had formed in your throat “He wasn’t himself, he had no control over what he was doing! You just want to blame him, because it’s easy!”

Thomas glowered “I don’t get it… I really don’t, what is it about him?”

“What is it about Teresa?” You countered, not missing a beat.

At that, Thomas trailed off, the familiar pang of hurt shooting through his limbs. Something that occurred every time he thought about her, since the day of her disastrous betrayal.

You huffed, knowing you had struck a nerve, but also knowing that you were right “Come on, look at me and tell me that if she showed up right now, looked at you with those big blue eyes and told you how sorry she was, how much she regretted the whole thing, you wouldn’t immediately want her back.”

“I wouldn’t-“

“You would!” You noted the way Thomas bit the inside of his cheek, as well as the way his knuckles were already turning white. “You would, Thomas… You damn well know it.”

He shook his head, the inner conflict swirling prominently in his dark eyes as his tone dipped “She would have to do a lot more than apologize.”

“Yeah, but you still wouldn’t turn her away.” You retorted, firmly, your penetrating gaze not leaving him.

Silence. Heavy, deafening silence that spoke for itself.

Thomas remained unmoving, his shoulders sagging as he peered at you, solemnly. You didn’t break the agitated eye contact, merely taking a step back.

“That’s what I thought. I guess we both have our blind spots.”

The dark-haired boy looked away from your eyes, finding himself tragically at a loss for words. He hated that you were right. He could lie to himself all he wanted, but at the end of the day, he knew that even after what Teresa had done, he still cared for her. If he were to see her again… He highly doubted he would forgive her instantly, especially while WICKED still had Minho, but if she were to have a change of heart and choose to be on their side again… He knew he would have an agonizingly hard time discarding her.

You watched Thomas’ demeanor shift, his tense expression softening as he exhaled in defeat. Evidently the thought of trying to get you to keep your distance with Gally was no longer the dominant one on his mind. You took no joy in fighting with him, but Thomas needed to understand exactly where you stood, on all counts. You didn’t need his approval on this. You and Gally were together, and if Thomas, as your friend, couldn’t be happy for you, then the least he could was stay out of it.

“At least mine isn’t torturing our friend right now.” You gritted out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Thomas heard it clearly, though. His gaze shot up to meet yours once more, and you almost winced at the miserable glint in his eyes. You suddenly felt like you had just kicked a puppy. Was that a little harsh? Maybe. Was it accurate? Unfortunately, it was.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel bad, your compassion prevailing. You and Thomas may have had moments where you didn’t see eye to eye, but he was a good and loyal friend to you. There was no need to hit him where it hurt.

“I’m sorry…” You breathed out, giving him a forlorn, apologetic look.

Thomas only shrugged in response, eyes momentarily averting to the ground “No, you’re right. I just…” He inhaled, deeply, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his head in irritation “I just don’t want you to get hurt, that’s all.”

You delivered him a soft smile, touched by his concern, even though there was no need for it. At least not in that regard “Gally is not going to hurt me.”

Your friend responded with a tight-lipped smile that read ‘I hope that’s true’, before turning away and beginning to walk back to the room the rest of your friends were in. You were about to follow him, until… you realized how badly you needed just a few minutes alone with Gally, before you, him, Thomas, and Newt would venture into the city. You didn’t know just how dangerous the path was, and you couldn’t bear the idea of something terrible happening along the way. Sure, you could be optimistic and wait until after you all got back, but… could you? Could you really? You had missed him so much, and so far you’d only managed to say a few words to each other.

Oh, screw it. You were not asking for much. You needed it, so you were going to take it.

With a quick look-around, you turned on your heels, following in the direction you thought you’d seen Gally go. Sadly, as you reached the spot where he had disappeared from your line of vision, you had no idea where to go from there.

People were bustling all around you, some reloading their rifles, others fixing their gas masks. In one of the rebels, you recognized the guy that had stood behind Lawrence, while you all were being introduced to him, earlier. You thought his name was… Jasper? Whatever. Clearly he knew Gally, so you hoped he would know where he would have gone to.

You cleared your throat, striding up to him with as much confidence as you had been able to gather “Hi! I’m sorry, do you know where Gally’s room is? Or… wherever it is that he sleeps around here?”

The rugged man looked you up and down, a strangely amused smirk curving his slightly crooked mouth. It confused you and almost made you feel uncomfortable, but not enough to make you retreat without an answer.

“You must be the girlfriend? From the maze? The one he wouldn’t shut up about finding?” He rasped, snickering under his breath.

You relaxed, inwardly, glad that you had apparently picked the right person to ask. Also, hearing that Gally had mentioned you during his time here, undoubtedly made you smile on the inside.

“Yeah, I guess that’s me. So where can I find him?”

The rebel chuckled, pointing upwards to the corridor a level above that led to the more secluded parts of the base “Right up there, seventh door on the left.”

You muttered a quiet ‘Thank you’ before scurrying off, hoping you would, in fact, find him there. Soon, you made your way down the corridor, your gaze bouncing from one door to the next one. Five, six… seven.

Your heartbeat suddenly began quickening as you stared at the tattered, scratched-up door in front of you. You allowed yourself to take a deep breath before finally knocking.

“Yeah?”

You exhaled in relief, a smile instantly making its way onto your lips. Gally’s voice. He was in there.

“Gally…? It’s me. Can I come in?”

After a short pause, he replied.

“Of course. I’m just about done here.”

You pushed the door open with a slight ��creak’, and there you were met with a sight that brought a burgeoning blush to your cheeks. Gally’s bare back was turned to you as he was changing, about to reach for a grey hoodie that was draped over an old wooden chair. You could see his toned muscles tensing, every crevice generously offered to your view, as you felt your face grow hotter. He looked even stronger than he did back in the glade, his form even more glorious than you remembered it.

You didn’t get to remain in your trance for too long though, as Gally slipped the hoodie over his head and turned around to face you, a loving grin playing at his lips.

“How’d you know where to find me?” He arched a curious brow, making his way over until he was standing right in front of you.

You smiled and took a step closer, minimising the distance between the two of you and gently taking his hand in yours. Your fingers interlocked perfectly, like puzzle pieces. “Jasper told me.”

Gally chuckled at that, eyes widening in slight surprise “You know his name?”

You shrugged “I pay attention.”

His grin widened, warmth filling his eyes as he gazed down at you, giving your hand a tight, grounding squeeze “You always have.”

Your heart raced faster as you raked your gaze over every feature of his face, each faint freckle on his cheeks, his plump lips, his vibrant eyes… You couldn’t help yourself as you threw your arms around him, Gally not wasting a second in wrapping you up in his strong embrace. He held you so fervently, so close to his body, you thought he was almost lifting you off the ground. So many emotions swirled between you two - the relief of both of you somehow having survived every hardship up until this point, the joy of having found your way back to one another, the desperate urge to never let go of each other again, the fear of somehow getting separated along the way of whatever came next. You felt a small shudder pass through your body as you clung to him for dear life, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

“I’ve missed you… Gally, I’ve missed you so much…!” You uttered on half a breath, succumbing to the compelling warmth that emanated from him.

“I’ve missed you, too, Y/N… More than anything.” He whispered so close to your ear, his arms around you tightening as he slowly rocked you from side to side, making sure you felt how much he meant it.

Tears were beginning to well up in your eyes, in spite of your best attempts at keeping them at bay “I’d spent months thinking you were… Dead… I-I thought it was over, you were gone, I’d never see you again…!”

Gally released a fervid sigh, at last picking you up and allowing you to wrap your legs around his midriff as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder “I know, baby, I know… But I’m okay, I’m right here. And you are, too…”

You stifled a sob, pressing your slightly trembling lips to his temple, basking in the feeling of his heated breath fanning your skin “I’m scared I’m gonna wake up any moment, and you won’t be there. It’s already happened too many times…”

“Won’t happen this time. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, Y/N…” He promised, lifting his head from your neck so that he could meet your glimmering eyes “I’m not gonna screw it up twice.”

You let out a quivering breath as you gazed into the eyes that reflected all the unyielding love you harbored. Every nerve in your body pulled you into Gally, every thump of your heart resonated within him as he held you in his arms. This was the feeling you thought had been lost forever to you. Something so powerful and burning that no other force could compare to it. He was the piece of your heart that had been ripped out all those months ago, the piece that was now being graciously returned to its rightful place.

With a tenderness no one else but you has ever shown him, you cupped his face in between your soft palms and leaned in, your lips pressing fully and ardently against his.

The long-overdue kiss instantly clouded Gally’s senses, his heart hammering against his rib cage as his lips reciprocated, moving against yours with enough passion and longing to make your head spin. Your legs tightened around his midsection as his left hand moved lower to grasp at your hip, endeavouring to bring you even closer, as if that was possible. Gally swallowed the soft whimper that escaped you as he kissed you deeper, all his conscious thought paralyzed by the enrapturing sensation of your lips on his. He didn’t believe anything in the world tasted sweeter. He had spent countless nights dreaming about the day he would get to do this again. And now that he had you back, just like this, so close, so yearning, so thoroughly his… he wished it would never end.

Your fingertips threaded through the short sandy strands of his hair, your body feeling weightless, almost floating. You bit back a mewl as Gally’s hand reached up to your face, his calloused fingers brushing your cheek and trailing down your neck in a feather-light caress. Every bit of your skin felt so sensitive to his touch. After a few more blissful seconds, you finally broke away from his lips, both of you panting heavily, catching your breath from the heavenly feeling of your kiss.

Gally rested his forehead against yours, his mouth still mere inches away from your own “I’m never losing you again… Never, you hear me?”

You nodded, frantically, holding onto his neck with both hands, his closeness filling you with a searing light. It exhilarated you, made you feel like you could do anything, overcome anything, as long as you two were together.

“Sounds good to me…”

Thank you for reading!

Tags: @seldomabsent @obsessivelycapricious @ultraintrovertedgryffindor @maraudersimp @lattsgocaps @magnoliabloomfield @sherbertscarrothead-2 @moobrvoobl-moobmoob-oobmpoobroom @abundantxadorations @izzymultifan @willseyebrows @annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny

[tumbledfreckles]

Glad

Look, things escalated once I saw a post about in the name of fairness and equality, having a shirtless Lily Evans July, to go along with shirtless James Potter May (wasn’t that a cracker). I went off and wrote something, only to find my colleagues had smartly decided to move it August, give we’ve already got the @jilychallenge going on this month. But I’m all about instant gratification, so seeing I was late to shirtless JP, let me be early to shirtless LE. I doubt it’ll be my only entry, regardless. 

"Does it hurt?"

Lily shook her head, biting down on her bottom lip to keep from wincing or crying out, as pain tore through her back with each of the shuddering breath. 

"Can I see?" 

James’ hand hovered in the region of her shoulder, she could see out of the corner of her eye. He hesitated, waiting for permission. 

"I'm fine." The words ground out of her with another excruciating shake of her head. 

"Evans." His fingers brushed her top, withdrawing the second she flinched, a sharp hiss escaping before she could stop it. "You're not fine." 

"I'm okay." Lily turned as she spoke, not wanting her back to him, not wanting to let him keep seeing what had to be the grossest, nastiest thing he'd ever seen. Her eyes met his, surprised to see frustration where she'd expected pity, or worse, disgust.

"Let me help you." 

She stared at him, long moments, until the burning pain in the wound was worse than the burn of desire she felt around him, and she gave up on the idea of appearing brave and fierce and worthy. 

James’ touch was hesitant, even after she nodded. He didn't seem to know where to start. A gentle caress along the torn and exposed muscle of her shoulder blade drew a groan, a firmer tug at the frayed fabric of her shirt a more strangled, stricken yelp. 

"Shit, sorry," he was instantly apologetic. Lily snuck a look over her one intact shoulder, to see James had stepped back, face pale, hand running through his messy locks. He looked nervous, uncertain. Like he knew the answer, but didn't care for the result. 

"What is it?" Her voice was husky with pain and fatigue. She wasn't sure how she hadn't passed out yet. 

James sighed, looked away, looked back. He grimaced, finally spoke. "It's your shirt. It's stuck, from the," he paused, swallowed, "from the blood."

"Okay," Lily nodded slowly. 

He could see she didn't understand. "It has to come off." 

"My shirt?" 

"Yeah," James sighed, his shoulders dropping. "Your shirt. It has to come off." 

"Oh." Eventually, effortfully, her fingers moved to comply. A whimper escaped soon after. "I can't." 

He blinked at her. "What?" 

"My shirt. I can't get it off." She was horrified to find her eyes pricking. 

"Oh." A tick flicked across his jaw as James processed. "Do you want me to -" 

"If you don’t-”

“I don’t” 

“Ta." Her gaze went to the floor as he stepped closer, reaching for the top button. He clearly tried not to touch her. An absolute failed mission. Warm fingers brushed her throat, her chest, knuckles soft against her breast, her stomach. It wasn't until she felt his hand tremble as he pulled one side of the shirt away, exposing her to his view, that her eyes flew back to his face. 

James wasn't looking at her. Not directly at least. Maybe somewhere over her shoulder, possibly near her ear. Lily was fascinated to see a tinge in his cheeks, a flush in his neck. Lips pressed in concentration, he didn't even seem to be breathing. Long lashes hid a storm of hazel behind his wire framed glasses as he work the material towards her shoulders, and paused. 

"I'll have to rip it." 

She jumped, immediately regretting it as a fresh wave of nausea swept through with the blinding pain. "What?" 

"Your shirt," he gestured uselessly. 

"My shirt?" 

"I can't get it down your arm. Unless you can roll that shoulder," he raised an eyebrow, "I'm going to have to rip your shirt off." 

"All your wildest dreams come true, huh, Potter?" Lily couldn't help the quip, despite the pain, and in the moment the grin split across James face, it was worth it.

"Not quite the way I pictured this, believe me," James shook his head as Lily snorted, his face growing somber before she was ready for that one moment of lightness to be over. His hands hovered over a seam. "Ready?" 

Lily curls her hands into fists, feeling her nails cut into her palms. "Do it." 

Despite her best efforts, a low moan escaped for her throat, a harsh breath as James pulled the material away. Audible, so loud it would have been embarrassing if she'd had the capacity to care, panting came next as he painstakingly peeled it from where it stuck to her skin. So all consumed by her agony, she barely had time to process that she was now shirtless before him.

"I'm sorry." He leant so close, she felt his breath on her now bare, now exposed neck. 

"It's okay. Keep going."

"Here." She felt James’ hand reached around her, take hold of hers. He prised her fingers apart, entwining them with his own. "Hold tight." 

Lily squeezed gratefully. Probably too tightly, but James gave no indication he minded if she broke any of his bones, as he knitted her back together. The burn of torn flesh was replaced slowly but surely with just the heat of his touch as he healed. 

Finally, but all too soon, he was done. But the feel of his rough, calloused fingertips remained. Her skin tingled with awareness. James' hand slid across her now smooth shoulder, catching on her bra strap. She thanked the high heavens it was one of her better ones, having been out for dinner with the girls when she was summoned to the battlefield. 

"Alright, Evans?" His voice was soft as he trailed along the lace edge to her collar bone, stopping at the nape of her neck. 

Lily leant back, until his shirt brushed against her bare skin. "Much better, thanks." She kept going, leaning her weight onto him, sinking into his warmth. "I was stupid." 

"Taunting Lestrange may not have been your best move," James agreed, cheek to hers. His arm stole around her waist, causing her to gasp at the novel feel of his forearm against her stomach. Not wanting him to read her sound of surprise for anything less than pleasure, her own arm covered his, spanning the corded muscles. 

Bold from adrenaline, left over from the battle, high of the thrill of surviving another night, she turned her head, until her lips caught his cheek. "Thank you for hauling me out of there."

He nuzzled against her. "You're welcome." 

"And thank you for healing me." Her lips landed on the corner of his mouth this time. 

"Of course."

"But mostly," she twisted in his arms, hand curling up into his hair, slipping on the unruly strands. "Thanks for hitting that bastard for me when I couldn't." 

"Always." 

Lily's lips covered his, a perfect fit, like she'd long suspected they would. She heard his hum of pleasure as their mouths moved together for the first time, and all the last bits of tension from the horrible night slipped away. It might have been his kiss, it might have been her relief at their escape, but all of a sudden it didn't matter why her shirt had ended up in tatters on the ground. She was just really glad it had. 

[canyouevencauseicant]

Notes

A/N: Thank you to @teesumu​ for letting me get in on the “After You’ve Read Angst” collab! This is the first collab I’ve ever gotten to be part of, it was nice to finally write something again so long. Also thank you to Tee and @novastarlight for beta-reading <3

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, just a lotta fluff

Paring: Sugawara x Reader

It started with little notes. 

‘Make sure to drink water!’

‘You can do it!’

‘I believe in you!’

At least once a week for the past couple of weeks, you had been finding little slips of paper that had suddenly begun appearing on your desk. The handwriting was beautiful, but not one you could recognize, and while the notes were always simple, often accompanied by a smiley face or little doodle, they were never signed. 

“Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer, (Y/N)!” One of your friends had teased you prior to class one morning, but you simply brushed off their comment (although your face definitely felt warmer than it had mere moments ago). Part of you wanted to know who your secret note-writer was, but part of you wanted it to remain a secret - it was so exhilarating and so heart-warming that somebody liked you enough to leave you these notes, and you didn’t really want it to stop. So, you simply let things be and welcomed those little notes happily.

Then, the notes suddenly started to be accompanied by little gifts.

A small and beautiful flower, accompanied with a slip of paper that read, ‘To remind you of how beautiful you are, inside and out.’

A dessert you loved, with a note saying, ‘Something sweet, just like you!’

Your personal favourite was a little paper origami crow, on which your mysterious note-writer had drawn a Karasuno boy’s volleyball jersey, crowing ‘Help me cheer on our boys!’

The little origami crow had made you laugh when you discovered it perched on your desk, and you treasured it so much that you had immediately shown it to the boy’s team after their practice that same day. The fact that your little crow had the Karasuno volleyball jersey on it gave you a hint that your note-writer was probably related to the team somehow, if not on the team itself, but you chose not to dig further. 

“Have you managed to figure out who your mysterious friend is yet?” Sugawara had asked you as you both walked down the hallway, to which you simply shook your head, 

“Nah, and I don’t think I want to figure it out. They make me happy regardless if I do or don’t know who they are, and I don’t wanna scare them off.” You were close friends with the third years on Karasuno’s boy’s volleyball team, but you were especially close with Sugawara. The two of you had learned to enjoy each other’s company over your time at Karasuno, and now, the two of you were practically joined at the hip. 

Sugawara shrugged his shoulders, “If you say so, (Y/N). Now, wanna study with me in the library? I’ll even let you borrow my nice highlighters!” 

At that, you let out a laugh, “I’m sold! I’m gonna hold you to your word, you know, Suga.” 

“I’d expect nothing less, (Y/N),” Sugawara shot back, a smile appearing on his face.

At that moment, you suddenly became much more aware of Sugawara’s proximity to you - he was so close. You could practically feel his hand ghosting by your own as the two of you walked side by side. You quickly averted your gaze, focusing on the hallway stretching before you as you attempted to prevent your face from heating up. You felt your heart rate climb and you took a slow, deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. 

You had recently come to the startling realization that whatever feelings you had for Sugawara were certainly more than platonic. Since then, you found yourself fighting to remain calm every time he so much as smiled at you, but you managed to collect yourself and not give yourself away just yet. Or at least you hoped as much...

Once you got to the library, you went to set your stuff down across from Sugawara when he nudged your leg with his foot, a pout appearing on his face. 

“What?” You chuckled, giving him a questioning look as you set down your bag. 

“Sit next to me, or else I won’t let you use my highlighters and I’ll get us kicked out of this library before you even sit down,” Sugawara replied simply, jokingly glaring at you as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

You knew Sugawara was fully capable of fulfilling that threat, so you simply let out an exaggerated gasp, “Not the highlighters! Alright, you’ve twisted my arm. But you could’ve just asked me to sit next to you instead of threatening me with potential exile from the library, you big baby.”

Sugawara just gave you a big grin, “It worked, though, didn’t it?” You scoffed lightly and rolled your eyes playfully as you moved your bag over to the seat next to him, ignoring your racing heart and the fluttering in your stomach. You got out your notes and began to study alongside him, simply enjoying his company and presence, until -

“Hey, can you read what this says? I wrote it so fast that I can’t seem to figure it out now,” Sugawara asked softly, pushing his notebook over to you as he gestured to a particular sentence. 

“You can’t read your own writing? What did you do?” You replied, shaking your head as you took his notebook and glanced down at the sentence in question. 

However, as your eyes took in Sugawara’s writing, you felt your heart skip a beat. This writing... it looked so familiar. The only place you had seen this writing before was-

But there was no way your note-writer could be Sugawara... could it? 

“Earth to (Y/N)? Don’t space out of me right now, come on,” Sugawara piped up, waving his hand in front of your face. 

You simply spluttered out an apology, setting down the notebook and focused in on the sentence, averting your eyes as you quickly answered, “I think you wrote “Miyagi”, but you just butchered it really badly.” 

With that, you slid Sugawara’s notebook back to him and went back to your own notes, doing your best to avoid his gaze so he wouldn’t see your shocked expression. However, had you looked at him, you would’ve seen the soft expression on his face as he gazed back at you, the dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks, the smile on his lips and the glimmer in his eyes as he finally revealed himself to you. 

Your secret note-writer. 

Instead of openly acknowledging it, Sugawara simply continued his work right alongside you silently, his mind constantly wandering to the final note he had hidden in his backpack to be given to you later that day.

‘I like you. Please go out with me?’ 

[volleychumps]

Heyy idk if this'll make sense but,, I'm ugly (or at least not as pretty as others) and a lot of times guys would be dared to say "oh my friend likes you" while laughing at me. It made me very insecure growing up and makes me suspicious of compliments now... idk if anyone can relate but can you write a fluffy comfort scenario with Bokuto, Kageyama, or Tsukki? Maybe with reader laughing at a confession because she thinks it's a joke or something? Thank you, I love your work and stay healthy ❤️

Aw bby~ I’m sure you’re absolutely goregous <3 hope you enjoy your request!

Insecure S/O Reacting To a Confession (Bokuto, Kageyama, Tsukishima)

This is set in a time in which you’ve developed trust issues because a confession before had been a joke- so a little angsty ngl 

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

Bokuto 

“She’s not coming, is she?” 

“Calm down. You told her to meet you after school- the bell let out less than five minutes ago.” Akaashi’s voice sounded through the spiker’s phone as Bokuto releases a bigger sigh than he expected. Nervousness tingled through his muscles while the burly boy seemed to tremble in both excitement and fear for what was to come, leaning against one of the many exits to the school as golden eyes scoped the area for your figure. 

“Today’s the day, Akaashi, I just know it!” 

“Yeah. You said that yesterday. And the day before that one. Not to mention every day for the past month-” 

“I think she’s coming!!” A hand slipped out of his pants pocket as he pushes off the wall giddily. 

“Well, be careful- I don’t know if you heard about it, but-” 

“See you at practice, my #1 Wingman!” 

Bokuto ends the call, the last thing he hears being a sigh of Akaashi’s at his abrupt cut off. That could wait. A growing grin began at Bokuto’s lips as you, confused, approached him with a crumpled paper in your hand- looking as beautiful as ever in the eyes of the ace. 

“Bokuto-san...?” 

“You made it!” 

He couldn’t see the hesitation in your steps, or the nervousness in your movements for the national-known volleyball spiker had his gold eyes downcasted at his feet, a hand nervously coming up to rest on the back of his neck as he internally prepares himself. 

“Was there something you needed from me?” You wrung your hands out, biting your lip as you seemed to fidget in place, the scenario being all to familiar with what you once had to go through. However, you knew better- it just simply wasn’t possible. 

Bokuto was always friendly towards you, but previous events had placed a limit in your head on just how far that friendliness just happened to extend. Until- 

“Y/N...do you maybe want to go out with me?” 

Your jaw slackened a little as you still in shock, watching as the boy you thought was eons out of your league blushed a little, squeezing his eyes tight as the question came out rushed, the words fumbling over each other. 

But you still heard it. 

Your chest sunk and heat flamed in your cheeks as you push out your first instinct- a laugh. A laugh bubbled up in your throat at the question, and Bokuto opened his eyes, confusion and anxiety rising in his stomach at the sound that still made his heart race. Nervously, he began laughing too. 

“Alright.” You make out between giggles. “Who put you up to this?” 

All laughter stopped on his end as you continue to giggle, but your eyes were a tad bit poignant as your fists clenched at your sides. Bokuto straightens, furrowing his brows at the ridiculous question. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, this is a prank right?” Your voice wobbled. “Was it Rui? His friend Droy?” 

“Y/N, what-?” 

“You shouldn’t play with girls’ feelings like that, you know?” You continue, smiling yet your eyes screamed of another story. “But in my case, it’s funny- right?” 

Bokuto blinked, mouth agape at the accusation in your words as you take a shaky breath, trying not to show weakness as Bokuto takes a careful step in front of you. Was this what Akaashi was trying to tell him? 

“Y/N, I’m serious!” The ace exclaimed, causing you to finally meet his eyes with your slightly watery ones. “You’re absolutely goregous, there’s no way this is a prank!” 

“Y-You’re taking this too far...” 

“I’m not, because there isn’t anything to take!” Bokuto grabs your hand in his, intertwining your pinkies as you can’t help but smile a little at the childish gesture. “I promise you, Y/N, I like you! Way too much, I’ve been trying to tell you for the past month now, but...you scare me. In a I’ve-never-had-these-feelings before kind of way.” 

You find yourself leaning into his palm as Bokuto smiles, golden eyes gleaming genuinely as he cups your face. “Who made you think of yourself this way?” 

“N-No one in particular...” You lie, looking off to the side as you feel yourself being tugged gently into the sweet boy’s chest, causing you to yelp a little as Bokuto crosses a boundary, digging his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. 

“Please.” You stop trying to push him away at the sincerity in his voice. “Can I change that? I can. I promise you I can, if you give me a chance!” 

Shakily, you look up to the sky, feeling Bokuto’s warm breath on your neck as he spoke, wondering if this was worth learning to trust again, your arms wrapping around his mid-section as you did so. 

Your voice quiets, cracking slightly as you hold him back just a little tighter. 

“One chance. Don’t let me regret this.”

Kageyama

“This is ridiculous, you moron!” 

“Trust me, she’s gonna love it Kageyama-Kun!” Hinata flashes his setter a big thumbs up as Kageyama groans, glaring into the bouquet of flowers with pink dusted across his cheeks. After Hinata had snuck a horribly written note into your shoe locker- Kageyama couldn’t put his confession off anymore, much to the setter’s dismay. Admiring you from afar had been enough, and confessing you face to face had once been a daydream- 

“Can’t I just, you know, text her?” The raven haired boy attempts to escape one more time as Hinata points a finger to the spot where he was standing stubbornly. 

“Nope! As if you could get her number anyway-”  Hinata dodges the hit coming his way with ease, sidestepping as he continues his tangent. “So you’re going to stand right there and wait for Y/N-chan to come! I’m going home now, and tomorrow- you better have a newly minted girlfriend!” 

“I should’ve never asked you for advice.” 

“See you tomorrow, and you’re welcome.” 

Kageyama scoffs, snarky reply falling on silent lips as Hinata mounts his bike and takes off before he can get it out, leaving the blue-eyed setter standing at military position near the courtyard, red roses tightened in his grasp around the less thorny areas. He hoped Hinata was smart enough to not mix up the two locations.

“Kageyama-Kun!” 

Said boy almost drops his flowers when you round the corner, now changed out of your school shoes as Kageyama swallows- a futile attempt to aid his now dry mouth. You took small steps towards him as you find a lump growing in your throat at the scene before you, memories flashing in your mind at what once had been. 

Regardless, you managed a tight smile as Kageyama blinks once. Then twice as if to make sure this was really happening. 

“You...wanted to see me about something?” You question formally, ignoring the red hue of the roses as Kageyama stutters out a response, bright blue eyes darting all over the courtyard. 

“I...um....you are....UGH-” 

In any other circumstance, you might’ve found this cute- but the only thing you could think of was how good he was at acting. 

“Take your time.” Your eyes dim down a little as the familiar unease rises in your stomach. 

“D-Date!” Kageyama manages, the pink on his cheeks now turning into a bright red. “I want to g-go on a date with you...!” 

You press your lips together as a heat pricks the corner of your eyes, the one image you didn’t want to remember blurring perfectly over the one in front of you. 

.... Again?

Kageyama curses, offering you the roses with one hand shakily as the back of his hand covers his mouth, blue eyes seeming to glare off to the side in utter regret. “I heard you like flowers, s-so....”

“You don’t need to do this, Kageyama-Kun.” You find yourself saying, surprised at how stable your voice was as Kageyama’s arm slackens a little, the bouqet lowering in height as he takes in your words- in his case, your response. 

“It’s cruel, you know? I get it- you’re popular, attractive, and people want to be your friend- but this? I know I can’t be with someone like you the way I am now, so you have to show me firsthand?”

“Huh?” 

You chuckle humorlessly at the genuine confusion in his voice before laughing a little. “It’s hilarious, isn’t it? Poor, naive, ugly girl believes for just a second that the boy she likes wants her back.” 

Kageyama’s eyes widen a little, still trying to process what you’re saying as the roses fall slack at his side. But the only thing he’s able to get out, is- 

“Wait, you like me?” 

You spin on your heel, flustered you admitted it, before beginning to walk off. 

“Goodbye, Kageyama-Kun.” 

“W-Wait!” Before he can stop himself, he finds himself grabbing you from behind to stop your leaving, your eyes widening as the bouqet of flowers remains tightened in his grasp as he does so, your back against his chest. The aromatic scent fills your nose as he successfully stops you from going anywhere. 

“I-I don’t know why you think you’re ugly or any of those things, but you aren’t.” Kageyama mumbles quickly, and you’re shocked to see that he’s trembling at the touch. “But I wasn’t lying, or trying to play you. I want to go on a date with you...and if you like me too, there shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

“Shit!” Kageyama releases you right away, and you step away subconciously as you find yourself believing him, a hand over the clothed part of your chest as you do, cheeks blooming with a pink of their own. 

“...I think I’d like that.” 

“Like what?” Kageyama questions obliviously as you groan, blushing in a way that made the setter want to admire you even closer than from afar. 

“The date, don’t make me say it!” 

The blue-eyed setter releases a sigh of relief, his heart being sent on an emotional rollercoaster coming to an end as he chuckles the slightest bit at your embarrassed stature, offering the roses again in a now relaxed-manner. 

“Right. So can you maybe take the damn flowers and be my girlfriend?” 

Tsukishima

“I regret this. I’m going home.” 

“Tsukki! No!” Yamaguchi whines, pulling on his friend’s sleeve for the second time in six minutes. 

“She isn’t coming. Waiting outside her classroom is creepy anyway. She might’ve even already gone home.” Tsukishima says straight on, glancing at his childhood friend before the freckled boy could interject. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Moral support!” 

“Yeah, could you maybe...do that somewhere else?” 

Yamaguchi sniffs once, frowning. “I get that you’re nervous, Tsukki, but don’t take it out on me. Text me later and send Y/N my regards, okay?” 

“I’m not nervous.” The tall blonde claims, swiping through his playlist when in reality- the butterflies in his stomach said otherwise.

“That’s all you got out of that?” Yamaguchi sweat drops, shouldering his bag a little more before waving as he begins to walk off. “Be nice to Y/N!” 

“Wasn’t gonna kill her.” Tsukishima mumbles to no one as he’s left by his lonesome in the empty school corridor after school had ended, mostly everyone leaving or going to attend their club activities. He knew from Yachi who shared your class- that you stayed a little after school to study for a bit before leaving. 

Tsukishima had discovered about his emotional surge towards you when you had visited practice one day to drop off Yachi’s notebook- only to notice you more and more each time you had passed him by to the point where you would smile and wave while greeting him by name. Soon, all other girls seemed to become see-through, leaving you bright in a sea of unfamiliar heads. 

“Crap!” You stumble back, a relieved laugh filling the corridor as the blonde blinks, wondering how he had gotten so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even seen you emerge or make himself known. 

“You scared me, Tsukki!” You whine, shifting your bag upon your shoulder before blinking in confusion. “Wait, what are you doing here? Is the volleyball club off today-?” 

“Go out with me.” 

Your breath hitches at the sudden attack. 

Tsukishima remains indifferent, thankful he was able to even say it, as he shoved his hands in his pockets, eyeing you seriously through his spectacles before you find yourself back there again. Back where your trust was stripped and your pride was stomped on before you smile- a smile that was anything but cheerful. 

“That’s not a very funny joke, Tsukki.” You laugh a little, hand tightening around your bag strap as you refuse to meet his eyes, your gaze falling on his shoes as you become overwhelmed with past events. 

“I’m not joking. Go out with me.” He repeats, not asking, but in a way where it sounded like he was basically telling you. 

“...How far are you willing to go?” You feel wetness brim your eyes, but your smile still remains- shaky yet present- as your voice cracks differently from the way you used to call his name. 

“What the hell are you-?” 

A smirk and multiple laughs ring in your head from your memories before you finally snap. 

 “Stop screwing around, alright?”

Tsukishima’s brow quirks up once, and in the next few moments, you gasp as your back is suddenly touching a nearby locker- Tsukishima’s hand resting by your side to create the illusion of entrapment as he leans in to you, and you don’t have to look up to know that his gaze was searing into you with a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn’t pinpoint. 

“Who’s screwing around?” His voice was quiet and irritable, and you swallow the lump in your throat as a few stray tears slip. 

“I’m just a joke, right?” You mumble, barely audible as you breathe in his scent from decreased proximity. “You boys always toy with girls like they’re your little playthings-” 

“Are you talking about that shitty prank that bastard pulled on you a few months back?” 

Your eyes snap up before you can stop them. “You...know about that?” 

“Why the hell are we here wasting our breaths on them?” Tsukishima questions, irritation evident in his tone. “I don’t do these kinds of things, ever, and you seriously think I’d be here telling you I like you as some kind of shit joke? Give me a break.” 

You blink, believing his harsh words as Tsukishima sighs, relaxing his neck so his head falls on your shoulder. 

“On the bright side you finally looked at me. Understood, I hear you loud and clear.” 

You bite your lip when he moves to step away from you, your hands clasping at the sides of his shirt before you can stop yourself. 

“I...I’ll go out with you, Tsukki.” 

The blonde’s eyes widen a fraction as you bury your head in his chest. 

“Just...please please don’t be like the others.” 

“I thought I told you.” Tsukki’s pointer finger prods at your chin, causing you to look up at him as he leans down so your noses brush. 

“You’re wasting your breath on the wrong thing, Y/N.” 

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

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles

[yoontopia]

coffee & cream | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x (f) reader

genre: friends with benefits au (like the movie mila kunis is sexy y’all), one (1) smut scene [in the form of oral (m) and (f) receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids cmon), spanking, grinding], fluff, angst (but its a happy ending bc its me)

rating: M

word count: 14.3k

summary: Jungkook isn’t usually a risk taker-- in fact, he’s the safest guy in the room. But you’re about to change that

Jungkook adjusts his tie and looks out of the little airplane window. The seatbelt sign is blinking back on – it’s been a relatively exhausting flight from LA to New York and his legs are numb. He eyes the tall buildings of the metropolis below, squinting when he can see the Empire State building in his view. It isn’t his first time in Manhattan, having visited once with his family when he was a teenager. The sheer size of the place terrifies him a little though.

It’s not like Los Angeles isn’t a big city. LA is huge, in fact, and just as saturated as any big city is. But New York is a different topic altogether. Jungkook finds LA intimidating, he’s not sure where to even start with Manhattan.

He walks out into JFK, hoisting his duffle bag on one shoulder. It’s noisy, he notes, as soon as he’s walked out and into baggage claim. He only makes a small pitstop in the men’s bathroom to make sure his hair doesn’t look like birds have nested in it and emerges out, looking around. Someone’s supposed to be picking him up, and they should be here, amongst the throng of people holding up placards with names on them. He’s just pulling out his phone to double check if any emails about his pickup were sent while he was in flight, when a commotion by baggage claim catches his eye. Raising his eyebrows, he takes in the sight before him.

There’s you, hair coming out of your bun, clutching your stilettos close to your chest as you walk barefoot on the baggage belt wearing a crinkled skirt-suit. You’re looking for something, tip toeing around the suitcases, unaware of the stares you’re getting. You’re walking towards him, against the direction of the belt and he stares around him and sees a piece of paper with the name JEON JUNGKOOK written on it in bright red lipstick. He leans over to pick it up, and realizes you’ve made a grab for it as well.

“That’s me,” he says. You blink at him in confusion, before your face clears.

“Jeon Jungkook?” you affirm, and he nods, pointing to the piece of paper and then at himself.  “Oh, thank god.” You introduce yourself and hold out your hand, which Jungkook promptly shakes. You’re still on the baggage belt, so he has to walk alongside you.

“You’re picking me up from the airport?”

“Yes!” your voice is hushed and out of breath. You smooth down your flyaway hair hastily.

“Do you… always pick people up like this?” He gestures at the baggage belt and you suddenly laugh, a high tinkling sound. Jumping off the belt, you stand in front of him.

“Uh yeah, you know, I like to keep things interesting,” you say, nodding your head like you mean business. “Welcome to New York, by the way. I feel like I should’ve brought a boombox with that Taylor Swift song blasting on it.”

“I mean there’s always next time, right?” Jungkook cracks a smile, shoving his hands in the pockets of his suit. “You know… you’re not exactly what comes to mind when one thinks ‘headhunter’.”

“Yeah, I prefer the term executive recruiter,” you say offhandedly. “‘Headhunter’ always makes me sound a little creepy.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, as he watches you put your heels back on. They add a significant amount to your height, and you stand in front of him expectantly. “You did stalk me for the past six months. That’s kind of creepy.” You laugh again at that and reach for his bag, which he pulls out of the way.

“Let me carry your bag, it’s my job!”

“You don’t look like you do this often,” he points out.

“Okay so maybe you’re my first recruit, sue me.” You’re pouting faintly, as the two of you walk out of the airport. The New York heat hits Jungkook all at once, and he sniffs the air curiously. “Nasty isn’t it? I love it” you grin.

“What is that?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“Sewage, rats, and the sweet smell of capitalism.” You’re waving down a yellow taxi. “Need me to play you that Taylor Swift song yet?” You hold the door open for him and he gets in and you pop in from the other side. Once you’re done giving the driver your destination, you sit back. “So.” You start. Jungkook raises your eyebrows at you. “You’re finally here!”

“Only took six months worth of emails to convince me,” he says, looking out the window as the cab crosses a bridge. Manhattan looms in front of him.

“It’s a huge opportunity,” you say, and he has to give you points for being earnest. “Art director for Vogue? This is the big leagues!” You’re turned in your seat to look over at him. “I mean, no offence to your little internet blog.”

“Which got seven million hits last month,” He points out, only a little offended. You roll your eyes.

“Have you been on TikTok lately, little kids are pulling those numbers.” You say, and he can’t deny it. “But I’ve seen your work firsthand, and you’re amazing at what you do. That’s why you’re here.” Jungkook sighs. The cab is in Manhattan now and he stares out the window once again.

“There must be a reason you’re here,” you continue quietly. “Even I was surprised you finally agreed to give the interview a shot.” Jungkook doesn’t look at you. He doesn’t know you enough to tell you the real reason he up and left his life in LA.

“A free trip to New York? C’mon I’d be an idiot to turn that down!” He says instead, making his tone as light as possible. “But New York’s so crowded. Look around! I’m from California okay? I prefer the coast.” You’re looking at him, and he has a feeling you can see right through him. Considering New York also has the ocean, even Jungkook knows that is the poorest excuse.

“C’mon, what’s really holding you back?” Your tone is serious. Jungkook shrugs.

“I don’t know. This is a ridiculously huge move. I’ve lived in one place my whole life. And I don’t want it to feel like I made the wrong move and got myself into something I can’t handle.”

“I’m telling you, your work is incredible,” you say again, and Jungkook feels the back of his neck go warm. He’s heard flattery before, but you’re a stranger and you sound so blatantly honest. “You’re fully capable of handling this. Look, we’ll get you some coffee before your interview, you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Jungkook mumbles, lowering himself in his seat. You stare.

“What?! You heathen.” You’ve dropped all formalities with him, and Jungkook doesn’t know if that’s just New York, or you.

“It’s really hot,” he says as the cab pulls up to the destination.

“Doesn’t it get hot in LA?” you ask, paying the driver. Jungkook stands on the sidewalk and looks around. He can see the river from where he stands and smell the ocean. That thought comforts him a little.

“Yeah it gets hot in LA, but here it’s the heat, the pollution the humidity. In LA, thirty degrees feels like thirty degrees. Here thirty degrees feels like—the ninth circle of hell—”

“This conversation about the weather is really fascinating, believe me,” you cut him off. “But lucky for me, we’re here.” You point at the large building the two of you are standing outside of. “So, good luck.” Jungkook looks up at the skyscraper.

“Whatever happens, happens,” He says, shaking his head. “I told you, I don’t really want it.”

“I think you do,” you say, crossing your arms slightly. “Whatever it was that convinced you to finally fly out here is also convincing you to go for it. But regardless, just do me a favour? Act like you do want it so that I look good.”

“I guess I can do that,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

“Okay”, you say, flashing him another one of your blinding smiles. “Go get ‘em.”

It’s past three in the afternoon by the time Jungkook walks out of the building’s shiny revolving doors.

“Hey!” you’re running towards him, still wearing the same clothes from this morning. Your hair is down though, Jungkook notes.

“You’re still here,” he’s surprised, and partly impressed by your ethic.

“Yeah, well,” you say, sounding sheepish. “It’s my job. How did it go?” Jungkook allows himself a small grin.

“They bought it,” he says, giving you two thumbs up. “You’re safe for a little while longer.” You clap your hands excitedly.

“Well thank you,” you offer him a little curtsy that has him laughing. “I owe you one Jeon.” At that moment, his phone buzzes in his back pocket and he reaches for it, while you cross your arms and wait.

“Uh,” he says, reading the notification. “It’s from you.”

“It’s your offer,” you say, tilting your chin at his phone.

“Wait,” he says, confusion evident on his face. “I got the job?” You’re smiling now.

“They called about five minutes ago,” Your smile widens. “Congratulations! The offer expires at midnight.” Jungkook holds up his phone.

“Why didn’t you just tell me instead of texting me?”

“‘Cause it’s more dramatic,” you state, as if it’s obvious. Jungkook scoffs and looks away, towards the river, running a hand through his hair. You roll your eyes.

“Jungkook, you’re not gonna screw this up,” you say.

“It’s a huge move,” Jungkook argues. “Would you uproot your entire life for a job? Be honest.”

“Well, no. For a job, probably not. But for New York? Yeah, I would. Which is why I’m not gonna sell you on the job, I’m gonna sell you on New York.”

“It’s New York!” Jungkook says, exasperation leaking into his voice. “I’ve seen Iron Man, I know what it’s like!”

“Not the bullshit tourist version,” you say, looking at him, that slight pout back in your face.

“Puppy dog eyes? Really?” He questions, defeat evident in his voice. You laugh.

“C’mon,” You say grinning. “Let me buy you a drink.” You’re walking away from him and crossing the street when you realize Jungkook isn’t following. “What’re you waiting for?”

“For the light to turn so I can cross the street,” he says pointing at the red hand glaring across from him. You scoff and march back up to him.

“You Cali folk are so cute,” Linking your arm with his, you lead him onto the street. “C’mon it’s fine.”

“No, it’s really not,” Jungkook argues, watching a cab nearly run the two of you over, but you expertly dodge it. “See? I’m gonna die.” You lead him down Park Row, your arm warm against his and Jungkook finds himself at the Brooklyn bridge.

“What’re we—” he starts, but you ignore him, dragging him to the foot of Brooklyn Bridge. Cars are rushing past them, commuters going home after a day of work. Pedestrians are walking along the sidewalk, admiring East River below. You walk up to a small woman sitting on the side of the sidewalk in front of some mangoes.

“Maria!” you exclaim, followed by sentences in a language Jungkook barely recognizes as Spanish. The woman looks up in recognition and smiles at you. You fish through your wallet for a few dollar bills before handing them to her. You’re still speaking in Spanish as you point at Jungkook and then at yourself. The woman nods and begins to bag up the sliced mangoes.

“You’re feeding me mangoes off the street?” Jungkook whispers.

“What? I thought you LA folk were all about that organic, local bullshit,” you retort. You graciously take the bagged slices from the woman and wave at her before pulling Jungkook back in the direction of Manhattan.

“Do I at least get to eat them?” He asks.

“Not yet!” you reply cheerfully. You usher him into the Fulton Street Subway station, even let him use your Metro Card. Jungkook is too winded to ask any more questions as you practically push him onto a train. Two stops later, you’re getting off, Jungkook trying to keep up with you.

“Battery Park!” You wiggle your fingers. Jungkook stares around. “This is where you come if you wanna take those super expensive tours to the Statue of Liberty by the way,”

“Good to know,” he laughs. You walk him in the direction of the water but away from the ferries. It’s a promenade, he realizes. The two of you walk until you arrive at what he recognizes as a World War II memorial. You walk towards it and sit down on the slabs of concrete next to the steps, your feet dangling off as you stare at the ocean in front of you. You pat the space next to you and Jungkook throws the thoughts of getting his one good suit dirty and joins you. You promptly hand him the bag of mangoes.

“I thought we were going for a drink,” he jokes. You laugh as you pop open the bag. He stares down at his own. “What did that woman do to my mangoes?”

“She puts cayenne salt on them,” you say, popping a cube into your mouth. Jungkook raises his eyebrows and experimentally puts a piece in his mouth.

“Oh my god,” he says, voice coming out in a moan. “This is amazing”

“Right?” you laugh. “Maria is a culinary genius.” Your legs swing as the air gets cooler. The two of you watch the ferries in silence, but its comfortable. Jungkook breathes in the salty air.

“Do you do this often?”

“When I need to clear my head, I come here to watch the sunsets,” you say. “The crowd dies down by then because the only tourists that come here are here for Liberty and the ferries stop around this time.” There is another minute of silence and then – “You know, Jungkook, I like you.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s why, I’ll give you your choice of closes.”

“What?” Jungkook is confused again, a state he finds he’s often in wherever you seem to be involved.

“How I close you on this job.”

“Oh.”

“So, we got the flattery close,” you start, and put on a sweet, simpering voice. “Jungkook, you are so good at what you do!” Jungkook is laughing, but you carry on. “The take-it-or-leave-it close – Man I don’t care if you take it, I get paid regardless!” Jungkook is trying to interrupt but you reel right on. “The sympathy close,” suddenly your voice is hitched, and you pretend to bat away unshed tears. “You see, my liver is failing—”

“Why do women think the only way to get a man to do what they want is to manipulate him?” Jungkook finally manages to interrupt your rant and his voice comes out harsher than he expected it to. You blink at him, a look of understanding flashing across your face and Jungkook clamps his mouth shut.

“History,” you reply, choosing not to pry, for which Jungkook is grateful. “Personal experiences. Romantic comedies.” You look out towards the ocean again. A sailing boat is crossing your line of sight as you speak. “C’mon, you’re here for a reason, whether you want to admit it or not.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says, biting into another slice of mango. “To explore an option. Who wouldn’t want to know their options?”

“Someone who’s in a perfect situation,” you counter.

“Are you in a perfect situation?” He throws your words right back at you.

“Job? Oh, absolutely.” You say. “Everything else? Well, that’s none of your business,” Jungkook chuckles, and you smile. The wind ruffles your hair as you lean back. You watch as he finishes the remainder of his mango. “Ready to go?”

“But we just got here!”

“Chop Chop my friend, New York waits for no one.” Jungkook groans, deciding that you’re just impossible to keep up with.

“Central Park? Really? I thought we weren’t doing the bullshit tourist stuff.” Jungkook is holding a cup of boba in his hand – rose black tea with lychee jelly. The two of you had picked some up on the way to the park. When you’d said drinks, this wasn’t what he’d had in mind, but he wasn’t complaining. You take a giant sip of your own milk tea with pearls.

“You do realize Central Park is huge, right? There are corners of this place tourists tend to not venture into.”

The two of you are near the upper end of the park. The city is more residential here, almost into South Harlem. You tell him it’s the North Meadow. You find small curving paths in the park and the two of you walk around. Jungkook has to admit, it doesn’t feel like he’s currently in the world’s noisiest city.

“Here’s the countryside and peace you were craving for,” you say cheekily, and he laughs. But the air smells cool and fresh, the smell of exhaust and the sound of cars only a faraway tune.

“Okay fine, this wasn’t on TV,” he admits, and you grin. The two of you manage to find a spot in a clearing on a slight hill next to a huge oak tree and make yourselves comfortable on the grass. You pop open the slices of cake you’d picked up at the boba place and dig a fork in them, motioning Jungkook to do the same.

“So, what’s your dad think about all this?” you ask casually and Jungkook stares at you in disbelief. “What? He must have an opinion! He’s famous – he was the brand marketing director for GQ for 23 years.” Jungkook is surprised, to say the least.

“Wow, somebody did their homework.”

“Oh yeah,” you agree. “I have this thing at work. It’s called, uh, Google.” You ignore Jungkook’s scoff. “C’mon, what did he say about the job?”

“Actually, I haven’t asked him.” Jungkook confesses. You don’t need to know that he hasn’t seen or spoken to his father for almost a decade now.

“Well, then, you must know what he’d say,” You counter, waiting patiently for Jungkook to answer.

“He’d tell me to go with my gut,” Jungkook says at last. “And that he’d be proud of me no matter what I did.” If you can sense the shift in his tone, you don’t call him out on it. He’s realizing that you’re more perceptive of your surroundings than he originally gave you credit for.

“Well, he sounds like a really great man.” Your voice is soft and Jungkook doesn’t need to look at you to hear the smile in your voice.

“Yeah, he is.” Jungkook says softly. He doesn’t know if its because you sense the tension, but you stuff the remainder of the cake in your mouth.

“Hey, do you wanna see something really cool?”

“I always want to see something really cool,” Jungkook says easily. He watches you as you lie down on the grass.

“C’mon!” you tell him, and at this point Jungkook knows better than to argue. His suit is ruined anyway. The two of you lie down side-by-side to look up at the sky.

“One of the only places in the city you can actually see a clear night sky,” you point out. “And you know the best part? Very poor cell reception.”

“You bring all your recruits here?”

“I told you, Jeon, you’re my first.”

“Wow.” Jungkook says. “Thanks.”

“But if you tell anyone about this, I will rip your ears off and staple them to your neck.” You continue, in the same, airy tone.

“I believe you,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You sit up next to him. Your hair is frazzled from lying down and your black pencil skirt has grass all over the behind, but you don’t seem to notice or care.

“Oh, it’s time,” you say, checking your watch.

“Time for what?” Jungkook asks, but he hears it as soon as the question leaves his mouth. Soft music reaches his ears from faraway.

“Those tourist spots always have live musicians in the evening.” You say, hugging your knees and resting your chin on them. “But I don’t like the crowds, so I come up here to listen. Nobody for miles – just you and the music.” Jungkook watches you, as your eyes shine, and you stare into the distance.

“Now this is pretty damn cool,” he says. You’re swaying to the music without realizing it and Jungkook watches you tap your foot along to the beat.

“It’s nice to feel like you’re a part of something, right?” you say. “New York can get a little lonely sometimes.”

“And you’re trying to sell me on it.” Jungkook jokes. You laugh, that high tinkling sound Jungkook has come to associate with you after today.

“Every place can be a bit lonely sometimes,” you correct yourself softly. Jungkook thinks the two of you might be more similar than he’d originally thought. He makes a split-second decision.

“I’m in.” he says.

“What?”

“You sold me.”

“Really?” Your eyes are still shining, but you’re looking at him now.

“I’ll take the job,” he laughs. You squeal, still swaying slightly to the music.

“Oh my god!” you grin. “You are so gonna crush it,” And in that moment, surrounded by nothing but the smell of strawberry cake, faraway guitars, and your windswept hair covered in grass, Jungkook really believes you might be right.

Jungkook finally feels like he’s finished moving into his new apartment. Despite being a twenty-something, he never realized that he didn’t actually own that much stuff, and moving states had taken less than a month. Jungkook had other, more pressing matters to worry about – like quitting his previous job, training his replacement, signing a new lease, and bidding farewell to his rather scary old landlady in LA. Jungkook couldn’t say he was very sorry to leave her.

His apartment in Upper West Side Manhattan is miles better than the cramped place he had called home for the past five years. Vogue really had gone all out fixing him up with a place. Jungkook’s favorite feature are the giant floor to ceiling windows that overlook the city. He finds he can get used to this.

He was here now, on the first day at his new job, trying not to sweat through his cream dress shirt. His new team is unfamiliar to him and Jungkook isn’t an extrovert by nature, but he ignores his sweaty palms and tries to play nice.

“So, all I ask is that you give me a little bit of time to gain your trust,” he says, reciting the little speech he’d practiced on the flight a month ago. “I know that I’m new at this, but what I lack in experience, I make up for in cliches.” He gets a few scattered laughs out of that lame gag and sighs internally. “My door’s always open,” he adds. “Literally.” He gestures wildly to his office wall that’s made entirely out of glass, putting him on view to the rest of his team sitting in cubicles outside. “Thanks guys.”

There’s a scattered applause, a few shaken hands, and Jungkook smiles shyly. The crowd dissipates, leaving behind a man with curling blonde hair making his way toward him.

“Park Jimin, I work in marketing.” He introduces. Jungkook shakes his hand. He’s about to ask Park Jimin about his career when he sees you, wearing a navy dress and holding a stack of papers. Your hair is up again, this time in a no-nonsense ponytail.

“Oh, hey Jimin,” you say cheerfully and Jimin grins, exclaiming your name and giving you a hi-five. “Whatcha doing?”

“Sizing up the new guy,” Jimin stares at Jungkook from the corner of his eye. “You did good here. I could just eat him up.” Jungkook’s eyebrows disappear into the fringe of hair that falls over his forehead as he sees you trying to control your laughter. You pat Jimin on the butt with a fondness that isn’t missed by Jungkook.

“Go back to work Chim,” you say and Jimin shrugs and bounds off towards his office. Jungkook levels you with a look, eyebrows still raised, and you giggle. “You get used to him.”

“Anyway,” Jungkook says, picking up his iPad from his desk. “I have something to show you.”

“Show me?” You’re curious now as you walk into his office fully, still clutching your papers. He uses his tablet to switch the screen on the TV above his desk. It’s a small acoustic band, playing in Central Park.

“I tracked down the band that plays music in the North end of the park – the one we listened to that day that I decided to take this job,” Jungkook explains. “I’m thinking of using them somehow for my first project. I got in touch with the lead singer – we’re thinking of using them for guerilla advertising.”

“Taking something so pure and commercializing it?” You ask. “Knew I’d found the right guy.” Jungkook chuckles and watches you put down the stack of papers on his desk. “Anyway, here’s your contract. Sign it, and I will be out of here.” Jungkook fingers the front page hesitantly.

“A whole year,” he says wonderingly. “Wow.”

“Why do I feel like this is the first real commitment you’ve ever made?” Your hands are on your waist as you level him with a judgemental look on your face.

“Its not,” Jungkook argues, mildly offended. “I worked my last full-time job for two years. And fuck – I do regret that one.” He holds up two fingers to drive the point home.

“Do me a favour,” you sigh. “Don’t quit or get fired before this year’s up, otherwise I don’t get my bonus.”

“Wait, I can leave whenever I want? Then what’s the point of the contract?”

“Just sign the damn thing!” You watch as he groans and scribbles his signature at the bottom. “Nice doing business with you Jeon Jungkook,” You shake his hand vigorously. Jungkook watches you collect all the papers.

“Hey, I was thinking of maybe getting some lunch. Do you know a place?” He asks, checking his phone for the time. You stare at him.

“Are you… asking me out?” Jungkook blinks. What?

“Whoa, no,” he amends. “I’m just asking you to show me a restaurant.”

“I mean, I’m the only friend you have in New York,” you ramble on. “You don’t wanna complicate that.”

“I know,” Jungkook starts. “I’m not asking you out.” You ignore him, Of course you do.

“I mean, sure, we’d have fun, roll around, get into some erotic humiliation fantasy—” You’re wringing your hands. Jungkook thinks if he wasn’t sweating while giving his speech before, he’s definitely sweating now.

“I—Erotic?”

“—But it’ll all blow up in our faces, end very badly, and we’d never speak to each other—”

“Can you slow down for a second—”

“It’s just not a good idea Jungkook—”

“I’m not fucking asking you out, I swear to god!” Jungkook almost shouts, and you shut up. He watches your eyes go wide, and you bite your lip as if to hold back a sob. He winces inwardly.

“Okay,” you say, your voice unusually small. “You don’t like me like that, I get it. You don’t have to be so mean about it,” Your voice is trembling now, and you look down at your feet. Jungkook sputters, taking a step towards you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t--,” but he realizes that your voice wasn’t trembling from hurt, it was just you trying to keep your laughter in. You look up at him now, mirth swimming in your eyes and he knows he’s been had.

“God, you’re such a girl,” you grin. “Come on sister, it’s my treat.” Jungkook watches you turn on your heel and march out and wonders if there will ever come a day when he’ll have you all figured out.

You bring him to a brunch place at the corner of the block. It’s got a long French name Jungkook struggles to pronounce but he orders a large smoked salmon avocado toast while the two of you sit at a small table by the window.

“So, was it an easy move?” you ask, chopping your broccoli into tiny pieces before eating it.

“It was tough leaving my mom,” Jungkook offers. “My brother gave me some shit. But, uh, the timing was right,” He nods, as if satisfied with that answer. You’re watching him, a small smile on your face.

“An ex?” you ask. Jungkook winces, remembering that you’re far more astute than you let on. “I kinda got the vibe.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook answers, mouth full of salmon. “She’s great! Wants us to stay friends!” You make a gagging sound. “She’s also convinced she can cure me of my emotional unavailability.”

“You’re emotionally unavailable?” You ask laughing, and Jungkook nods vigorously. “Oh my God, I’m emotionally damaged. My ex was so kind to point that out when he cheated on me. I haven’t seen you at the meetings.”

“I’m done with the relationship thing,” He sighs, giving you his leftover broccoli, which you accept graciously.

“Girl, you are preaching to the congregation,” you cheer, raising your hands in agreement.

“Choir.”

“What?”

“‘Preaching to the choir’. You’re supposed to preach to the congregation. That’s the expression.” Jungkook takes a long swig of his hot chocolate.

“Did you understand what I was saying? Then don’t be a dick about it,” you smart and Jungkook laughs. He finds he does that a lot in your presence. “Anyway, I’m having some friends over tomorrow. Why don’t you come? You can meet some new people too.”

“I’m gonna have to check my schedule,” Jungkook says solemnly, pulling out a wad of cash to pay for his meal. “I’m really busy. I work at Vogue now,” you’re giggling. “It’s not just some little blog on the internet.” Your laughter drowns out everything else and Jungkook finds he likes being the one making you laugh.

Jungkook triple-checks the address you’ve texted him before knocking on the door labelled 2A. He hopes he’s picked up a decent enough wine as a housewarming gift. He’d even made sure to get the best alcohol content-to-cost ratio from the grocery store down the street from your place! He hasn’t even entered your apartment and he’s already sweating through his cardigan.

The door opens and it’s you, and this is the first time Jungkook sees you out of your usual business attire. Your hair is down, and you’re sporting skinny jeans and a tank top.

“Hey!” you say breathlessly. “You made it! C’mon!” He hands you the wine, which you graciously accept. You drag him into your living room and address the rather large gathering.

“Hey—HEY everybody! This here is Jungkook, he’s from LA!” There’s absolute crickets at your proclamation, and you roll your eyes. “He’s the reason I can afford all this beer.” You state plainly. At that, there’s a universal cheer that goes around the room.

Jungkook is generally wary of large crowds. Multiple strangers staring at him always makes him uncomfortable, but for some reason he finds himself blending in with your friends. Granted, he spends most of the evening with you playing wii bowling, jenga, and drunk card games with you and Jimin and two other friends – Taehyung and Namjoon.

The days turn to months just like this and Jungkook finds that life in New York is almost refreshing. It turns out he and Jimin have a lot in common, and that Jimin flirts incessantly with literally everyone he meets, not just him. After your party on that fateful day, he’s hit it off with Taehyung and Namjoon too. Taehyung’s a freelance artist, and Namjoon works in the music industry. He hangs out with you often too and finds that the two of you have easily become good friends. You don’t actually work for Vogue, working for a registered recruitment agency instead, so he doesn’t see you that often. He decides though, that this is a good thing. You’re definitely the one person he knows best in this city and he doesn’t want that becoming overcomplicated with having to see you as a colleague instead of a friend.

It is on a Friday night Jungkook finds himself dissolving in your extremely comfortable couch, after one too many beers, watching what he thinks is the worst romance film in existence. You’re totally enraptured though, a firm grip on your own drink.

“I swear all these movies have terrible music,” Jungkook mutters as the soundtrack crescendos and the female lead runs into the male lead’s arms in slow motion, fake tears staining her face.

“It’s so you know how to feel every single second,” you answer. Your voice is croaky from unshed tears as the female lead jumps into the male lead’s arms and he spins her round and round. Despite your newly found distaste for relationships, Jungkook has learned that you’re secretly a sucker for romance. He watches you as you mouth along to the dialogue.

“God, I wish my life were a movie sometimes,” you murmur, as the ending credits roll. “I’d always look good, and never have to go to the bathroom.” You turn to him abruptly. “And then, when I’m at my lowest point, some guy would chase me down the street, pour his heart out, and we’d kiss. Happily ever after.”

Jungkook groans, lowering himself further in your couch, chin now resting on his chest. You ignore him.

“Why don’t they ever make a movie about what happens after the big confession?”

“They do,” Jungkook replies instantly, taking a swig of his beer. “It’s called porn.” You slap his chest, sitting back comfortably next to him.

“God, I miss sex,” you say, your words slightly slurring together. The alcohol in your system has erased your filters, not that you had many in the first place. “Right? I mean, sometimes, you just need it.”

“There can never be just sex,” Jungkook mutters. “There’s always complications involved.”

“Yeah but why? What’s wrong with uncomplicated sex?”

“It’s womens’ fault,” Jungkook says and you sit up, affronted.

“Excuse me?”

“‘Hold me, let’s spend the rest of our lives together’” Jungkook mocks, making you scoff.

“As if men are any better. You’re all eyeing our pussies right from that first date.”

“I wish it wasn’t like that, y’know,” he continues. “It’s a physical act – a sport – if you will – like…. Bowling. Two people should be able to have sex like they’re going bowling.”

“For some weird ass reason, that made sense to me,” you say lazily. Jungkook laughs.

“Right, it’s just a sport. Maybe you shake hands at the end, and then get on with your life.” You nod. A comfortable silence follows. You pat him on his chest, small hands warm.

“More beer?” You’re downing yours. Jungkook nods sleepily and watches as you bend over to pick up the empty bottles and empty bags of chips from your floor and traipse over to your small kitchenette. You’re dressed in a simple tank and booty shorts and Jungkook can’t deny that, in your dimly lit apartment, your legs look good. He calls your name, and you look over at him.

“Let’s go bowling,” he says, tapping his foot. You blink at him in confusion. “Let’s have sex like we’re going bowling.” He repeats. You have the audacity to laugh out loud.

“You’re insane,” you tell him, walking back to the living room with more beer and a bowl of popcorn. Jungkook scowls and pulls himself up to sit up on your couch.

“Don’t laugh at me! This could be great. This could take all the weirdness out of it. We both want the same things.”

“We’ve been over this,” you say, tossing some popcorn in your mouth. “I don’t like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either,” he points out evenly. “That’s why this is perfect.” You chuckle.

“I don’t even know if I find you attractive!” you respond.

“That’s cute,” Jungkook says, standing up and bringing himself to his full height. You roll your eyes.

“Well, I do have a thing for jerks,” you mutter, which has Jungkook scoffing. “Do you even find me attractive?”

“That’s cute.” He repeats. You wave your hands and stand up in front of him.

“No, no, no,” you say. “Before you got to know my awesome personality – strictly physical – first impression of me?”

“This is just two people talking right? Sharing notes?” Jungkook affirms and you nod. “I liked your eyes – you have nice eyes.” He sighs. You’re looking at him, arms crossed.

“I liked your lips,” you offer. “Thought you might be a good kisser.”

“I am,” Jungkook admits solemnly, and you snort. “Your breasts,” he adds, tilting his chin towards your chest. You look down at it.

“What about them?”

“They intrigue me.”

“Aw, really?” you seem incredibly flattered. You give your breasts a congratulatory pat. “That’s a first – no ones ever called by boobs intriguing before. I liked your hands by the way. I’ve always got a thing for tattoos.” He watches you eye the ink on the back of his right hand, your gaze traveling up his arm where the tattoos disappear into the sleeves of his shirt.

“Mouth.” Jungkook responds quickly.

“Thighs.” You counter.

“Voice.”

“Butt.”

“Eyes.”

“You said that already,” you’re smiling now.

“I meant it,” Jungkook responds honestly. You’re looking at him now, eyes narrowed.

“You swear you don’t want anything from me other than sex?” You ask.

“You swear you don’t want anything from me other than sex?” he counters. “I know how you girls get.”

“Don’t be a pig.”

“A pig who’s got a cute butt.” He wiggles his eyebrows. You roll your eyes.

“No relationship,” you state. Jungkook nods. “No emotions. Just sex.”

“Whatever happens,” he adds. “We stay friends.” You nod back at him. The two of you stand there, staring at each other.

“Swear?” you ask.

“Swear,” he states evenly. “So…. I guess we should just start?” You laugh nervously.

“Okay then, let’s go to my bedroom.”

“Wait – what’s wrong with the couch?” Jungkok gestures wildly at your sofa, which he has to admit, is stupid comfortable. “It’s less emotional.”

“The bedroom has better light,” you point out. “And since we’re just friends, I don’t have to be insecure about my body.” Jungkook blinks at you, doe eyes wide.

“Aw, cmon,” he says. “You’re beautiful. You have nothing to be insecure about!” You fix him with a glare.

“That’s way too emotionally supportive. You need to lock that down.” You jab his chest with a pointed finger.

“Uh… your ass is way too bony?” he tries, watching your behind as you saunter towards your bedroom.

“Much better!” comes your reply, and he grins. Following you into your room, he watches with slight amazement as you tug off your top. “My nipples are sensitive,” you tell him conversationally. “I don’t really care for dirty talk, and had I known this was gonna happen, I’d have shaved my legs this morning.” You stand before him topless and he shrugs.

“I enjoy dirty talk, I sneeze sometimes when I come, and the socks stay on during sex. It’s a weird feet thing, nothing you need to be worried about.” He’s pulled off his shirt and tossed it on top of yours.

“Wait, feet gross me out too, look at that,” You grin. “Meant to be.” You tug your booty shorts off and stand in front of him wearing nothing but a bra and underwear. He whistles and you roll your eyes.

“Can you please be a little less fuckboy about this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Girl, look what we about to do right now, and tell me this isn’t peak fuckboy behaviour,” he berates. You can’t argue.

“Fine, whatever, be a fratboy, but will you just start my tits are freezing—” But Jungkook doesn’t let you finish your sentence for he takes two strides towards you, cupping your face with his hands and smashing his lips down on yours. You make a muffled sound of surprise, but he ignores you, tilting his face to deepen the kiss. It takes you only a split second to reciprocate, and your hands travel up his sides to rest on his shoulders as you open up and let him explore your mouth.

Jungkook pushes you backwards without breaking the kiss until you’re falling on your bed. You scoot back until your back hits the headboard and you watch him as he stares at you, eyes dark and hair tousled. Without wasting any more time, Jungkook crawls over on all fours towards you. Giving you a chaste kiss on the lips, his tattooed hand travels down your neck, grazes over your shoulder, the underside of your breast, stomach and finally arriving to rest on your thigh. You watch him expectantly, bottom lip caught between your teeth, and he refuses to break eye contact with you s he tightens his grip on your thigh to yank you down so you’re lying down underneath him.

His lips latch onto your neck and you let out a whine that has blood rushing to his cock. He sucks a bruise right over your pulse before his hand comes up to lower the strap of your bra. Pulling the garment down, he lowers himself to press kisses and suck on your breast, before moving to the other side to repeat with the other one.

“Hurry up,” you murmur from under him, thighs rubbing against each other. Jungkook chuckles, and nibbles slightly on your nipple, drawing a whimper from you.

“Patience, princess. Good things come to those who wait,” his hand reaches down, and he strokes a single finger over your clothed core, and you shudder. “So wet already and I’ve barely done anything,” he notes, mouth still closed around your breast. Letting go with a slight plop, he looks at you hungrily. “Let me eat you out.”

You raise your eyebrows but do not object, and Jungkook moves down, pressing kisses to your navel, until he arrives between your thighs. Using both hands to spread your thighs apart, his gaze moves from you to your core. He buries his nose in your pussy without warning.

“You smell fucking amazing,” he tells you and your face heats up instantly, your arms coming up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“I told you, I don’t like dirty talk,” you say, your voice coming out in gasps. Jungkook smiles over your pussy, mouthing it over your underwear.

“Too bad,” he mutters against you, and your toes curl from the vibrations his voice causes through you. “I’m gonna tell you exactly what I want to do to you whether you like it or not.” Hooking a finger through your underwear, he moves it to the side. He licks a stripe up your folds, before burying his nose back into your pussy, tongue lapping at your juices. You’re writhing under him and he places his hands on your thighs to steady you. You’re gasping for air, little moans leaving your pretty pink lips.

Jungkook feels your hand tangle in his hair as he sloppily eats you out. You’re dripping on his tongue and he, in turn, is practically salivating at the taste of you. Your hand tightens its grip on his hair, and he feels you grind down on his tongue.

“O-oh my god,” you gasp. “Jungkook.” He pulls away from you and looks up at you. Your juices cover his lips and chin and you’re looking down at him, eyes blown out, hair in disarray.

“Yeah? You like that?” he groans out, and you nod desperately. “Like it when I fuck you with my tongue?”

“P-please,” you whisper, and he grins.

“Tell me what you want baby,” Your ears turn red at that and you look away. He climbs up to hover over your face and lowers his lips onto yours. His tongue is immediately in your mouth, its sloppy and wet and he knows you taste yourself on him. Its an exchange of spit mixed with your essence and when Jungkook pulls away, a string of saliva connects the two of you. He watches as it snaps and dribbles down the corner of your lips. You’re panting now. “Tell me.”

“Your fingers,” you mutter, clearly embarrassed. Jungkook’s smile widens.

“My fingers where?”

“C’mon Jeon, don’t be a dick.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” Jungkook answers noncommittally, pulling away to sit back on your bed. You moan and your hand covers his wrist in an attempt to stop him. He grins.

“Your fingers inside me.” You answer, face as red as a strawberry. Jungkook’s grin widens and he leans back down to place a small kiss on the corner of your lips. His hand travels back down to between your thighs and he strokes your folds with his index finger.

Without warning, he shoves two fingers in you, and you moan, small hands curling around his biceps, nails digging into his skin.  He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and your hand tangles in his hair again. It’s quiet except for your gasps and moans and the sound of his fingers steadily pumping in and out of your pussy. He can feel that you’re near your high, so he carelessly shoves a third finger inside you, increasing his speed. Before you know it, you’re chasing your high, coming all around his fingers with a loud squelching sound and a gasp.

“Like music to my ears,” Jungkook hums, nudging his nose against your jaw. Your hands caress his chest, sides before one travels down to palm the tent in his jeans. Jungkook gasps, biting down on your shoulder. Boldened by his reaction, you twist your hips, so your knee rubs against his crotch and Jungkook freezes. You take this opportunity to flip him over, so you’re settled on top of him, your hair spilling around you. Jungkook lies back on your pillow, bringing his fingers that were just in you up to your mouth. You run your tongue along them, and he shoves them deep in your throat before pulling them out and spreading the mixture of saliva and your wetness across your face.

Your hands spread across his chest as you grind down on him and he groans.

“My turn,” you whisper, leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Your hips are swirling over his crotch as your mouth moves from his lips to kiss his jaw, neck and then moving down to swirl your tongue over a perk nipple. You’ve undone his pants and he takes no time pushing them down. You palm him over his boxers before pulling them down too and letting his dick spring free. You suck in a breath, tongue hungrily swiping out to wet your lips.

You waste no time to take him in your mouth. Unlike Jungkook, you’re not a teaser and Jungkook throws his head back and groans as your lips wrap around his length. Your head bobs up and down between his legs and Jungkook closes his eyes and loses himself to the feeling. His fingers tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly until his hips are out of control and he’s fucking up into your mouth. You let him, slackening your jaw, tongue lying flat against the underside of his dick. Jungkook gets high off of the sound of you gagging on his cock, spit dripping down him and onto your bedsheets. He’s so fucking close he’s seeing stars.

It takes all his self control to sit up and signal you to stop. You look at him, lips swollen and wet, a mixture of precum and saliva messily splayed across your face.

“No more,” he rasps, pulling you close and flipping you over so he’s on top again. “Need to be inside you right now. Condom?” You breathe out that you’re on the pill before smiling coyly up at him. Jungkook is painfully hard and wastes no time to slip inside of you. You let out your loudest moan yet, and he waits for you to get accustomed to his length in you.

“You can move,” you tell him, voice hoarse. Jungkook nods and pulls out only to slam right back in you with a groan. The first few strokes are long and languid until you’re pinching his nipple and motioning him to take you harder.

“I’m not a fucking porcelain doll,” you ground out. “Fuck me like you mean it Jeon.” Jungkook grits his teeth and pulls out of you completely. You’re about to ask him what’s wrong when he flips you over like a ragdoll so you’re lying on your stomach.

“Fine,” he grunts. “You’re such a brat.” You shiver at his tone and he’s gripping your ass to prop it up, pushing your face with one hand so you’re buried face down in your pillow.

Without warning he shoves himself back in you, one hand on your hip, the other still pushing your face into your mattress. He sets an unforgiving pace, ramming into you without pause until your muffled screams could be heard in your pillow.

“How’s that?” he grinds out, planting a smack on your ass as you moan. “That hard enough for you?”

“Y-yes,” you manage to scream. He shoves two fingers into your mouth, spanking your ass between thrusts until you’re smarting and red. Your garble moans around his fingers, drool lacing your pillow until he’s twisting his hand back in your hair and pulling you up flush against him. Grabbing one of your breasts he bites down on your shoulder.

“Fuck you feel so good around my cock,” he whispers in your ear and you shiver. Your ass is sore, but Jungkook shows no mercy, stroking it with his right hand and continuing to smack it. His hand moves around to rub over your clit and you almost fall over at the stimulation but his other hand clutching your breast keeps you upright. “You’re gonna cum now sweetheart? Milk my cock for all its worth?”

“Oh my god, Jungkook please,” you’re almost sobbing

“Come on baby, you can do it,” he croons, and you look over your shoulder at him and he wastes no time in closing the distance and planting his lips on yours. Without warning you’re coming, and that too all over Jungkook’s hand, dripping down your thighs and onto the bed. He’s not far behind, your convulsing pussy driving him over the edge before he’s releasing his load in you. You collapse on all fours in front of him as he pulls out.

“Damn,” he says, bringing his hand up to show you. “So, you’re a squirter, huh?”

“What?” your ears turn red as you look back at him. “Oh, my fucking god.” You watch as Jungkook licks his fingers clean without hesitation before collapsing on the bed next to you.

“Don’t tell me that was your first time squirting,” he grins. You look away in embarrassment, and he props himself up on his elbow, head resting on his hand. “Wow I’m just that good.”

“You’re such an ass,” you mutter. Jungkook cackles in delight.

You and Jungkook fall into a routine after that. There are multiple trysts, mostly at one of your apartments after work, a few in the bathroom of restaurants while you’re out with your friends, and one (1) time at work when you arrived for your weekly lunch date wearing the tiniest skirt Jungkook had ever fucking seen.

Sex with you is easy. Being friends with you is also easy. Jungkook can’t believe how simple you make his life. You’re a good friend, always willing to listen. He tells you things about his life back in LA, his ex and how thankful he was that he was finally out of a five-year relationship. You talk about your family, your sisters, your childhood. There are still lines the two of you don’t cross. Jungkook knows your last relationship left you scarred, but you never mention it and Jungkook never mentions his father. Some things are better left unsaid.

It isn’t until one day when you’ve dragged Jungkook out to Macy’s on the hunt for a new outfit you need to go meet a potential new recruit, that he manages to find the missing puzzle piece.

He’s sat through you trying out at least fifteen different shirts, all of which look the same to him, but you insist they’re not. It’s after you’ve finally picked out a dress shirt, some trousers and a new pair of “killin” shoes that the two of you collapse in a café across from the department store, your bags surrounding you.

“God, nothing feels better than a day full of shopping for shit,” you say, taking a huge sip out of your (soy) cappuccino. Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“I’ll show you exactly what’s better tonight” he mutters and its your turn to roll your eyes.

“Can you please keep it in your pants for a minute,” you groan. “I’m actually nervous about recruiting this guy.”

“Please,” Jungkook huffs. “You’re gonna be fine, you’re a natural!”

“Really?” You’re raising your eyebrows. “After the shit show you had to put up with?”

“Excuse me?” Jungkook pretends to be offended. “I’m here, aren’t I? You won me over.”

“Barely. For fucks sake you arrived to see me on the fucking baggage belt.” you huff, placing your head down on the table. Jungkook watches you, a twinge of sympathy running through him.

“Look, you are good at what you do. I don’t think I’m an easy person to convince, if I do say so myself,” he says, voice gentler. You look up at him slowly, figure still hunched. “Maybe you’re a little unorthodox but hey! We need someone like that. Just be yourself, you’re gonna be fine.”

“You think so?” you’re pouting, and Jungkook’s heart melts a little.

“100%”

You’re smiling faintly at him when the two of you hear your name being called. You freeze and look past Jungkook, a glassy look overtaking your eyes.

“It is you!” the voice comes closer and Jungkook turns around to look at what is possibly the most beautiful man he’s ever seen in his life. He’s tall, hair pushed back in a neat part, wearing a three-piece suit. In front of him, Jungkook feels like a giant toddler in his sweatpants and colorful hoodie and messy hair.

“Seokjin.” Your voice is hushed and oddly quiet, something Jungkook has never seen before. He eyes the two of you curiously.

“How have you been?” The man – Seokjin – asks. “It’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” you clear your throat. “It really has.” It’s awkward for a minute until Seokjin’s eyes land on Jungkook. His eyes travel to the cups of coffee in front of the two of you, and something flits across his expression.

“I’m sorry, are you two--,” he starts, and you’re rushing to correct him, but for some reason, Jungkook’s body moves on instinct.

“I’m Jungkook,” he says, getting up and offering a hand.

“Seokjin,” the man answers, taking it and shaking it firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.” There’s another beat of silence and then a girl is running toward you, calling Seokjin’s name. Seokjin freezes as the girl catches up to him, laying a hand on his shoulder to catch her breath. Jungkook feels you freeze up even more, if possible.

“Hi!” she says brightly, looking from Jungkook to you. “Friends of yours Jinnie?” she addresses the taller man. Jungkook doesn’t fail to notice that she’s just as beautiful as Seokjin. Pretty people really do stick together. You stand up abruptly behind Jungkook and he feels you clutch at the back of his hoodie, out of Seokjin’s gaze. Seokjin clears his throat.

“U-uhm, this is Joohyun,” he offers. “My fiancée.” At this point you’re tugging wildly at the back of Jungkook’s hoodie and he isn’t stupid. He gets the hint.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” he says, plastering on his best fake-charming smile. Joohyun seems to buy it because she grins back. “But we really are in a rush. Places to be! Nice meeting you guys!” and he turns around without another word, grabs your hand in one of his and picks up your bags in a single fluid motion with his other. Then he’s pulling you out of there, away from the café, away from Seokjin and out into the busy street.

You walk behind him wordlessly, hand still clasped in his and he drags you up a few blocks until you’re at Bryant Park. The two of you find a bench and collapse in it, slightly out of breath.

“Thanks,” you whisper, after a while.

“No problem.” Jungkook replies.

“You’re not gonna ask?”

“Should I ask?” He turns to look at you. You chuckle weakly and lean back to stare up at the tall trees.

“My ex-boyfriend,” you say. “Obviously.” Jungkook had figured that but he nods along anyway. “He—uhm—cheated on me,” you continue and Jungkook suddenly feels white-hot rage curling inside him. You’d mentioned it before on the first day of his new job, at brunch, but it hadn’t registered until now. “With the girl we just met.”

“What the actual fuck.” He mutters, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s the reason why I can’t--,” you start, then stop. You take a deep breath before continuing. “Why I can’t get myself to enter into another relationship.” Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that but it doesn’t seem like you care. Now that you’re talking, the floodgates are open.

“We’d been together since college. I imagined we’d be endgame y’know? Everyone always told me how lucky I was to bag a man so attractive and smart and I felt lucky. Jin was always the best, the most caring, the most loving. We had some really great times together. But then… I don’t know… college ended and careers happened and I struggled to find a job straight out of university, while Seokjin comes from a long line of rich businessmen and he was already working for his dad’s company by graduation. We drifted after that. A part of me resented his privilege, I was envious of what he had. I took it out on him, and I guess he-he—”

“That does not give him the right to cheat on you.” Jungkook stops you. “I get being unhappy in relationships, I really do, but in no way is that the correct response.” Your eyes are glassy and full of unshed tears.

“She’s like him, y’know,” you continue, sniffing. “Beautiful, successful, I heard she owns a clothing line. Seeing them together it made me realize that I was the anomaly.”

“Don’t.” Jungkook says. “Don’t put yourself down. Look at you!” He gestures at you and you look up. “You’re smart, cute, successful. He’s trash for not recognizing that.”

“No, what I am is broken,” you give him a small, watery smile. “I haven’t been able to let anyone in since Seokjin and I broke almost a year ago.” Jungkook sighs and shuffles closer to you. Sniffling, you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder. “Thanks for today Kook,” you murmur against him. “I don’t know what I’d have done if you weren’t there.”

Jungkook sighs and leans over to kiss the top of your head lightly. The two of you sit there, amongst the chirping birds and trees, leaning on each other. Jungkook squeezes your hand and tries not to think of the unfamiliar feeling curling inside his stomach.

Things change after that. Jungkook finds that the two of you are almost domestic with each other. You stay over more often, and he finds you in his kitchen in the mornings, flipping pancakes wearing nothing but his button down. It’s so normal that Jungkook often has to take a step back and remember that the two of you are just friends. Seasons change from autumn into winter and a sheet of snow covers Manhattan.

“My sister’s in town,” Jungkook tells you one morning, offhandedly.

“Older or younger?” You’re making pancakes in his kitchen and you set down a plate of them in front of him before returning to make yourself some. Jungkook shakes the can of whipped cream next to him before squirting himself some.

“Older,” he grins. “She lives in LA with Dad and she’s in New York for business.” It’s the first time Jungkook has mentioned his father in front of you since the day the two of you met. You don’t prod. “My parents are separated,” he offers.

“I figured,” you shrug, sitting down across from him and refusing the can of whipped cream when he offers it. “Do you hate him or something?”

“What? No!” Jungkook laughs. “We just aren’t close that’s all. Everyone expects me to be this prodigy because of my Dad’s reputation, but I barely know the guy. Anyway, my sister wants to meet you.”

“Me?” You’re surprised.

“Yeah she wants to see who it was that convinced me to leave LA.”

“Oh, so that’s my reputation in the Jeon household now is it?” Jungkook gives you a cheeky grin. “How nerve-wracking—you sure you want me meeting your family? Makes us sound more than we are.”

“It’s not like that,” Jungkook argues, ignoring the faint twinge of disappointment somewhere deep within himself. “She’s only in town for three days. Come get some brunch with us tomorrow.”

“Fine. But you need to do something for me in return,” Your mouth is full of pancake and your hair is mussed but Jungkook smiles endearingly. “I have this… thing I got invited to tonight and I need you to be my date.”

“Are you sure? It makes us sound more than we are,” Jungkook throws your words back at you and you kick his shin under the table.

“Shut up, it’s my childhood friend’s Christmas party and our families are close so I have to go but I don’t have a plus-one and I need you there to keep me sane. Seokjin’s gonna be there.”

“You’re asking if I want to go with you,” he starts slowly. “To a Christmas party. As your date.”

“Well, yeah,” you shrug. “We go, drink at the open bar until we can’t see straight and then come home and you pound me into your tempur-pedic.”

“You’re disgusting,” he grins. “But, okay, I’m in--what the hell.”

“Do you have a tux?”

“Girl look who you speaking to,” he gestures at himself, sitting up straight and throwing his chest out. “Of fucking course, I have a tux.”

Wow, Jungkook thinks to himself that evening as you stand in your door in front of him. Long olive-green silk hugging every curve of your body, you grin up at him. You’d tamed your hair by pinning one side up, clutch in one hand, and feet in black pumps.

“Well?” you grin. Jungkook whistles, shoving his hands in his plain black tuxedo.

“Yeah well, you clean up nice too Jeon,” you pat him cheerfully on his chest, causing a warm feeling to flutter through him. “Let’s go do this thing.” You straighten his tie, and Jungkook swallows. He doesn’t know when exactly it happened, but over the course of time you really have him wrapped around your little finger.

The two of you uber down, your warm body next to his as you tell him some inconsequential story about your high school prom.

“We didn’t have prom at my school,” he tells you and you gape at him. “We had sports day though.”

“That is so sad.”

“Not really,” Jungkook shrugs. “Social gatherings are terrifying.”

“Never would’ve pegged you as the socially anxious type Jeon.”

“Well I am,” Jungkook rests his elbow on the car door, his chin in his hand to look outside. “I can’t believe I’m going to this rich people thing with you.”

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” you send twin finger guns his way and he smiles wantonly.

“No seriously,” he says, looking at you, chin still balanced on his hand. “Thank you. You always manage to take the edge off and make things less intimidating and make me feel like I can step out of my comfort zone.” You blink at him, grin fading at his sincerity.

“What’re friends for, right?” you say, your voice quiet.

“Right,” he says back, just as quiet.

“You know,” you ramble on. “When I first saw you, you did totally strike me as a stereotypical fratboy. I was a little scared.”

“Of me?” Jungkook points at himself, surprised. You lean back in your seat and rest your head back.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “You reminded me of the guys I went to high school with. The jerks that ranked the girls by how fuckable they were and shoved kids into lockers and giggled at you as you tried to present your history project to the class.”

“Why didn’t you just beat them up?” Jungkook isn’t offended by your generalization. He knows what you mean. “The you I know would’ve stabbed someone’s eye out with a pencil.”

“I was different when I was sixteen,” you smile. “But you’re right, now I’m not beyond stabbing someone’s eyes out with a pencil. Anyway, I’m sorry for judging you.”

“It happens,” Jungkook shrugs but you shake your head vigorously.

“No, you’re sweet,” you continue. “I’m so happy we met. And that we’re friends now.”

“I’m glad too,” Jungkook grins, punching you lightly on your shoulder. “Are you sure you can do this? I saw how you were when you saw Seokjin that day.” You bite your lip and look out the window.

“I’ll be fine,” you say slowly. “I have you.” Jungkook blinks and gulps.

“Listen, there’s something I need to tell you—” he starts but the uber is arriving at the venue and you’re getting ready to step out of the car. Jungkook stares at the ceiling before getting himself out. Checking in your coats at the entrance, the two of you enter together.

You were right, Jungkook notes. This isn’t just some Christmas party. Lights sparkle down at him and the massive Christmas tree in front of him is decorated to the nines. The bar is sparkling with decorations, and the tables are decorated with fancy centerpieces and champagne flutes. People wearing black tie are mingling, men in tuxedos, women in floor length gowns.

“God,” you whisper next to him.

“You didn’t tell me you were also Richie Rich rich,” Jungkook whispers back and you jab him in the side with your elbow. “Oh my god you’re a trust fund baby! You’re Gossip Girl!”

“Oh my god shut up,” you’re giggling. “I’m the family’s black sheep, fortunately for you. I refused to major in what my parents wanted me to major in and that was apparently the final straw. I’m surprised Yoongi even bothered to invite me – we haven’t spoken in months. There he is now.”

A man shorter than Jungkook is making his way towards them. He’s got effortlessly tousled black hair and his ears are adorned with many earrings. His eyes flit lazily towards Jungkook before landing on you and he’s pulling you into a hug.

“Yoongi!” you say grinning, returning his embrace and he smiles, changing his entire demeanour. “How are you, this is amazing!”

“Thought I’d do something to get the old gang together,” he shrugs. “I’m happy you came.”

“This is Jungkook, we—uhm—worked together.”

“Ah one of her recruits huh?” Yoongi is shaking Jungkook’s hand. “Min Yoongi, pleasure to meet you. Please make yourself comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook is sure his palms are sweating again. He picks up a flute of champagne from a waiter passing by and takes a huge gulp. You and Yoongi exchange pleasantries for a little while longer and then he leaves the two of you to greet some other guests that are just arriving.

“Wanna go to the bar?” You’re pulling him in the direction of the alcohol before he can say yes. You wave down the bartender and order your drink and turn to Jungkook. “You okay?”

“Why? Is it obvious I’m freaking out?”

“You country bumpkins are so cute,” You pinch his cheek. “What were you trying to tell me in the cab?” Jungkook looks sideways at you, but sees who’s approaching and clears his throat.

Seokjin looks even better than Jungkook remembered, in a well-tailored suit, holding a glass of wine. You turn and freeze momentarily.

“Jin! Hey,” your voice is steady and Jungkook is almost proud of you.

“I’m glad you made it,” Seokjin mirrors Yoongi’s words from earlier. “You didn’t last year.”

“Yeah, well,” you say sheepishly. “There were just some people I couldn’t face last year.”

Ouch, Jungkook thinks, on Seokjin’s behalf. If Seokjin hears the slight bite in your tone, he pretends not to notice.

“You’re Jungkook, right?” Seokjin’s addressing Jungkook now. “From the mall.”

“Yeah, good to see you again man,” Jungkook smiles and the smile Seokjin gives him in return is incredibly genuine. Your hand is snaking down and gripping Jungkook’s, and he gives you a squeeze, something that doesn’t escape Seokjin.

“Are you two together?” he asks conversationally, and Jungkook is about to vehemently deny the question, when you squeeze his hand back.

“We are,” you answer, much to Jungkook’s shock. He almost chokes on the last of his champagne before he puts the empty glass down on the bar. “We met at work.” He’s trying to calm himself down, trying to stop that warm feeling bursting through him again. You talk to Seokjin for a few more minutes before he’s leaving the two of you to your own devices again.

“So, you beat me to what I wanted to tell you in the cab earlier,” Jungkook grins. You look up at him and he leans in, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “That I like you,”

“W-what’re you talking about?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. Jungkook leans in and nudges his nose against the column of your throat.

“I meant what I said,” he mumbles, pressing kisses under your jaw. “I’m asking you out. Officially.”

“We’re in public,” you’re hissing, firm grip on his wandering hands. Jungkook grins and leans back against the bar, shoving both hands into the pockets of his trousers. “And you don’t mean that.”

“Of course I do,” he schools his expression into one of sincerity. “You’re awesome, I love spending time with you. We have a lot of fun. Am I wrong?”

“You’re just being reckless—”

“Believe me, I am a lot of things, and reckless isn’t one of them.” Jungkook frowns. “Do you not feel the same way? I just assumed—”

“No, no,” your eyes are wide, panicked. “I like you too Jungkook, of course I do.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” You’re looking at him, eyes wide and he watches your gaze flit past him over his shoulder. Raising his eyebrows, he turns his head over his shoulder to see what you’re staring at. His mouth forms a straight line when he realizes its not a what, but a who.

“Seokjin,” he says, the bitterness leaking into his voice. “You’re still in love with him. Of course, why didn’t I see it before.”

“No! Jungkook, that’s not—”

“So, bringing me here as your date, what you said just now to Seokjin – what was that? A ploy to make him jealous? Hoping he’d run back to you? What, you didn’t wanna show up alone in front of him, so I was your safe fallback?” Jungkook is seeing white, his fists clenched, embarrassment and humiliation washing through him. “I’m just a distraction to you.” Your bottom lip is trembling now and you’re vigorously shaking your head, but Jungkook feels so empty and suddenly finds he doesn’t care. “I’m done. I don’t need to set myself up to get hurt by coming in between whatever this is you have going on with that guy.” He’s pulling his tie loose.

“No, don’t leave,” you’re begging, small hands grasping his arm in a last-ditch attempt. Jungkook sighs, untangling himself from your hold. “Please, Jungkook, hear me out—”

“I hear you loud and clear,” he says, a sad smile breaking out onto his face. Pulling off his tie he undoes the first two buttons on his shirt, trying to breathe. Clenching his fist, he’s walking past you before stopping to turn and take one last look at you. “We’re still friends okay? I just need some time. And for the record, telling you this as a friend, you’ll never be free for as long as you’re seeking Seokjin’s—or anyone’s – validation.”

And then he’s walking out of there, away from you, from a life that never really belonged to him. All he wants to do is to get out of this stifling suit throw on his sweatpants, drown himself in an obscene amount of chocolate and play Overwatch all night.

“Slow down, you’re gonna throw up those eggs if you don’t slow down,” Jungkook’s sister chastises from across the table. “Jesus, you and Junghyun are both such fast eaters because you don’t chew. You’re gonna die early.”

“I’d like to die now,” Jungkook answers, his mouth full of medium-poached eggs and hollandaise.

“So, you got rejected, what’s the big deal?” She asks. “You’re a grown man. Pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move the fuck on.”

“Easy for you to say Miss-I’m-engaged-to-the-love-of-my-life” Jungkook doesn’t mean to sound bitter. “How am I even going to face her after all this. I’m an idiot.”

“You really are,” his sister responds, elbow resting on the table and chin balanced on that elbow. “You always like to think you’re this cool, collected, distant guy when in reality you’re a giant softie that believes in soulmates.”

“I do not.”

“Yeah,” she grins. “You do,” She sighs. “Look Jungkook, that’s not a bad thing. In fact, it’s endearing, and there’s nothing wrong with giving yourself completely to someone. Just make sure whoever you’re giving yourself to is worth it.”

“You don’t think she’s worth it?” Jungkook asks glumly.

“She’s confused, it seems. And that is never a good thing, not in relationships.”

“So, what do I do? I’m still gonna see her at work occasionally.”

“Don’t do anything. The ball’s in her court. You’ve bared yourself to her already and she can either accept that or reject it. And eventually, it’ll get easier to be around her. You might even go back to being friends. And try to move on, will you?”

“With whom?”

“I have someone at work I can introduce you to,” she hums. “If you’re willing.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook mutters. “How’s dad?” His sister stares at him, expression suddenly serious.

“Well,” she sighs. “That’s also why I’m here to see you.” She says quietly

Jungkook is avoiding you. You may not be the most intelligent person in any room, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. He hasn’t replied to any of your texts, dutifully turning his read receipts off so you don’t even know if he’s seen your messages. Whenever you drop by his work for one of your meetings, his office is always closed. You suspect Park Jimin has something to do with Jungkook knowing exactly when you’ll be by the company. When you corner Jimin about this though, he’s tight-lipped, always regarding you with a slightly judgemental stare. It’s clear where his alliance lies.

You could always drop by his place, but even you admit that’s bordering on being pushy. He did say he needed space but its almost been a month and you haven’t as much as seen his coconut head. The New Year passes just like that and you celebrate by finishing two entire bottles of wine by yourself and watching Love Actually for the twenty-seventh time. Yoongi invites you to his New Years’ party too but you decline, not wanting a reminder of what went down at his last bash. You also want nothing to do with Seokjin.

At first you were angry over what Jungkook had said to you before he’d left that party. But soon after, once you’d calmed down, you’d realized he was right. Seokjin was never going to look at you and it was foolish to wait around while he carried on with his life. You deserved better, and Jungkook had taught you that. The realization was oddly freeing.

More than anything, you miss your friend. The coffee dates, the weekly brunches, someone to watch cheesy movies with. And, you admit shamefully, you also mis his dick. Jungkook had been right, you should’ve given the two of you a chance.

It isn’t until a cold morning in February, a whole two and a half months after the entire fiasco, that you finally see Jungkook. He’s standing outside the building, winter coat on and a burgundy scarf around his neck. He looks out of character, dressed like a businessman instead of the usual college-boy sweatpants and baggy t-shirts that you’re used to seeing him in. His hair is longer than it was when you saw him last, curling slightly at the ends. It suits him. He’s chatting happily with Namjoon about something, waving his hands around descriptively, matching cups of coffees in their hands.

You hesitate to get out of your uber, but you’re late for your nine am. There’s no way to avoid him, with the two of them standing right in front of the entrance. You step out of the cab hesitatingly and Jungkook sees you right away. If he’s nervous about running into you, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his face softens into a small smile and he gives a small wave in greeting. You return his greeting shyly.

“Oh, hey,” Namjoon greets, as you approach the two of them slowly. “Got a meeting today?”

“Yeah,” you reply, eyes travelling from Jungkook to Namjoon. “I’m late.”

“I’ll leave you guys to it then,” there’s nothing sly in Namjoon’s tone, but the guy is like, insanely intelligent and you don’t doubt his intentions. “Gotta see Yoongi about this newest track I’ve been working on.”

Jungkook bids Namjoon goodbye before the two of you are making your way inside.

“How have you been?” you’re the first to break the silence. Jungkook takes a sip of his drink.

“Good,” he answers. “I finally beat Breath of the Wild.”

“Took you long enough,” you tease, and he chuckles. You follow him into the elevator and watch as he presses your floor for you, along with his. “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I,” he clears his throat. “I went to LA to see my dad,” You whip your head to look at him. “He wasn’t well so I worked remotely for a month or so.” So, he was never actually avoiding you, he wasn’t even in the city! You feel oddly relieved.

“How is he?”

“Fine,” Jungkook replies. You can’t help but notice that his animated self from earlier is gone, replaced by someone more somber. “I spent Christmas there.” The elevator doors open at your floor and you step out.

“Listen Jungkook,” you say quickly turning around. He pauses, pressing the button to keep the doors open, and looks at you questioningly. “I’m sorry – for everything.”

“Don’t apologize for your feelings,” that small smile is back.

“No! I mean – I’d really like it if we can be friends again,” you’re panicking. “I’ve missed you.” He grins at that, reminding you of the Jungkook you’d been intimate with.

“I’ve missed you too,” he answers, and something in your chest lifts. “Of course, we’re still friends.”

“Okay—wanna get brunch with me this week? The usual place.”

“I’ll text you.” Is all he says before he lets the doors close, leaving you standing there, slightly breathless.

You spend the rest of your day with a bounce in your step.

Things return to normal after that – somewhat. You and Jungkook start hanging out again, but you can tell something is off. He’s cheerful as always, but he’s holding back. It’s obvious that whatever he offered you that day at Yoongi’s party is no longer on the table. He’s guarded, confides in you less, heart locked away in a place you can’t even begin to reach.

But he’s here, in your life, tangible and real, and you tell yourself that this is enough. Until one day, when it all comes crashing down.

You’re at his place, and he’s retreated back into the kitchen to get the two of you more beers. His phone lights up, vibrating on the coffee table in front of you. It’s not that you mean to pry, but your eyes unconsciously travel to the notification that’s blaring on his screen.

1 New Message Jieun: Hey! We still on for tomorrow night, right? Gonna wear that dress you like 😉

You swallow. Of course, he’s seeing someone. Everything makes sense – the reason he was able to have you back in his life was because he’d moved on and rightfully so. The two of you aren’t teenagers – you are adults, and he is well within his rights to find someone else when you’d so obviously rejected him. You wonder, why then, your chest aches.

Jungkook reappears, holding two bottles of beer in each hand. Placing them on the coffee table next to his phone, he offers you one, which you accept, plastering a grin on your face. He grabs one himself, picking up his phone and collapsing on the couch next to you to turn his attention back to the movie that the two of you had been watching. From the corner of your eye, you watch as he checks his messages, eyes lighting up, a smile on his face as he types up a response.

You spend the rest of the night holding in tears.

You invite Taehyung to yours the next day as a distraction. He insists on watching some documentary about gothic architecture, but you don’t mind. Whatever takes your mind off Jungkook. And what he might be doing right now.

“You know, you are insane,” Taehyung comments offhandedly.

“Excuse me?”

“The both of you,” he continues, lounging on your couch a little too comfortably. “Insanity.” You continue to stare at him, and he sighs. “You and Jeon.”

“What about Jungkook?”

“He’s in love with you,” Taehyung answers plainly, as though he’s telling you today’s weather forecast. Your stomach drops. “And you like him too, but are too dumb to admit it.” You scoff.

“He has a date tonight. That hardly screams ‘in love with me’” You point out. It’s Taehyung’s turn to scoff.

“Please,” he chuckles, arms coming up to rest behind his head. He sits like your dad. “It’s only his third date with that girl. It’s nothing serious.”

“And he’s not in love with me.”

“He is,” Taehyung insists. “Told me so himself. I wasn’t gonna say anything because it’s none of my damn business but the two of you are so atrociously stupid—”

“He…told you?” you pause the documentary.

“Yes. Last week,” Taehyung is talking as though he hasn’t dropped the biggest bombshell on you. “But he’s putting himself out there because he thinks you don’t feel the same way. Frankly, I’m tired.”

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper. Taehyung checks his watch.

“Because, you still have time. Time to go get him.” You laugh.

“He’s not even gonna be back yet,” you point out. “Plus, what if I go there and he’s having her over? Third dates basically mean sex.”

“He’s not gonna sleep with her.” Taehyung tells you.

“Oh, and I assume he told you that too—”

“He did.”

“What sort of conversation were the two of you even having?” You’re incredibly confused

“A deep one,” Taehyung’s monotone voice is starting to irk you. “I took him out for tea. He’s home right now – by the way.”

“Why do you know so much Kim Taehyung?”

“It’s because I’m always minding my own, and vibing,” he informs you. “Go get your man, for fucks sake.” You’re already running around grabbing your keys and coat.

“Thanks Tae,” you mutter, giving the sleepy boy a kiss on the cheek. He smiles, leaning further back into your couch and turns his documentary back on as you rush out of your apartment.

There aren’t any ubers around your place at this time on a Friday night and you’re stuck taking the subway to Jungkook’s. Tapping your foot impatiently on the 4,5 line you rush out as soon as the train doors open, running to the building you know he lives in.

Your mind is blank as you stand outside his place and ring the doorbell. The faint music coming from the inside stops and you barely have time to second guess your choices before the door is opening and Jungkook is standing in front of you. Dressed in a crinkled dress shirt and black slacks, it looks like he got home not too long ago. He looks at you in surprise. Before he can open his mouth and ask why you’re standing on his doorstep wearing your sweatpants under your winter jacket looking haggard, you step forward, crushing your lips onto his.

His response isn’t immediate, you’ve caught him by surprise. But slowly he melts into the kiss, arms coming up to rest on your waist. You grasp wildly at the shirt on his shoulders.

“Are you sure about this?” he’s whispering, shutting the door behind you as you push him further into his apartment. “Know that I want more?”

“More sure than of anything else I’ve been in my life,” you whisper back, pulling away. “And whatever you want, I want it too. I want you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize that.”

“How did you know that I still wanted this?” he asks, before his face clears of the confusion and he’s grinning like he knows exactly how.

“We’re really gonna have to send Taehyung an expensive bottle of wine soon,” you grin back. “But first, I need you out of these pants.”

[cyborg-franky]

Can I have something fluffy with gn reader x Law please? <3

I WENT ABIT MAD ON THIS. Law is like my best boy. I even have Law tats haha. so writing him after so long I was very nervous. I hope you like.

Law x GN reader SFW Fluff/Angst Words: 1,558 Not proof read oops

You had always wanted to go to sea, being a pirate wasn’t exactly what you had been thinking when it came to visions of the wide-open sea, beautiful sunsets and amazing adventures. But adventures you got regardless of the unforeseen career option. Your only real complaint apart from the dangers of the job was the fact that you felt lonely, being a Straw Hat pirate was great, you loved your crew but there was no one you felt a deep connection with, not the type you’d always longed for, someone to hold your hand, share a bed with.

That was until you’d met the surgeon of death, you didn’t think someone as harsh as him would have been your type. The way he always seemed pissed off and irritated at even being around your crew, the fact he just needed your captains help and had formed a hasty alliance that every moment of every day you thought he deeply regretted the choice, that much was always clear on his face.

You were shocked he didn’t have wrinkles with how much his brows were permanently furrowed, even when the man ate at dinner with you all, the way his stern expression never left his face. Whenever you’d glance at him you always thought he would be so much more handsome if he smiled.

Just like everyone that you’d come across during this new life of yours, Law was no exception, scars of a tragic past remained on his soul. You couldn’t blame him for that and at least he wasn’t ever nasty or ill willed towards anyone. He seemed to even get along with some of the crew. The less intense members.

Thinking back to the first night you really made progress with the heart pirate you recalled how it changed the way you thought about him. It had been late into the evening, everyone settling down to their own devices.

You knocked on Chopper’s office door, opening it before you got an answer, often the small medic had issues rushing from his chair and to the door to open it so you always just stepped in. “Chopper can you look at this for me?” you asked closing the door.

“The Doctor went to bed an hour ago.”

You gripped the doorknob, that deep voice certainly didn’t belong to the sweet fluffy reindeer, you took a breath, why didn’t you just wait for a response like a nice normal and polite person? You had never been in a room alone with Law until now. Taking a breath and telling yourself that your hand wasn’t going to get any better by just going to bed.

“Oh, sorry” cradling your sore hand close to your chest your eyes darted around everywhere you could to avoid looking at him.

He was sat at the doctor’s desk, a medical textbook open, a pot of coffee at his side. His normal irritated expression however wasn’t present, his brows relaxed, his whole posture in fact looked lazy, his long legs stretched under the table, he looked comfortable in the chair, like he was on his own ship.

“I can look at it.”

“Huh?”

He turned to face you, cocking his head to the side to give you his full attention, his gaze rested on your chest, or rather the aching hand you clutched there, feeling your own beating heart as he nodded for you to come forward.

“Are you sure?” You looked at the comfy stool next to his desk, inching towards it.

Your hesitation made him laugh, actually laugh, it was such a nice sound you decided, deep but smooth, you’d never heard him make any show of amusement, he hadn’t even cracked a smile in all the time you had known him. But here he was, the very person who had the reputation of being a twisted individual, a current warlord for gods sake, the surgeon of DEATH in fact, smirking at you as you nervously sat down where he’d gestured.

“I am still a doctor you know” another chuckle as he straightened up in his seat.

“I know I don’t look like one, but my father was a doctor, I learned a great deal from him, it’s not just my devil fruit that affords me my gifts” Law explained and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to go on.

“Sorry, I know you shouldn’t believer every rumor that floats out at sea, if I believed everything the papers or drunks in bars said I’d think my captain was the devil but I’ve seen that man with chopsticks up his nose, I’ve seen him sleeping like a baby, he’s no devil” You knew your nerves had turned into rambling, feeling your palms sweat at being so close with the other captain but his soft chuckle, under his breath, trying to be discreet. But you’d heard it, such a nice sound you mused feeling a little more at ease around him now.

“So?”

“Well, my hand hurts, ever since I climbed down from the crows nest about three hours ago, I think I got it tangled in the ropes as I slipped a little” You explained. Law nodded his head before he held his tattooed hands out.

You held your hand out for him, he gently took it in both of his, long nimble fingers moved over your digits, feeling different parts, he was surprisingly gentle, his hands warm and welcoming. You couldn’t help but stare as he expertly examined your aching hand. You felt your gaze drift from his hands, up his arms and towards his face. His expression was like nothing you’d ever seen on the warlord. Soft. The way his tired eyes looked over your hand, he seemed happy to help, in his true element.

If not for whatever plagued him in his past, would he have been happy just being a village doctor? He seemed at peace right now. You allowed yourself to smile, your heart beating faster for an entirely different reason then when you’d set foot into the doctor’s office.

His grey eyes met yours when he pressed a certain painful part of your hand and you yelped. He clicked his tongue pressed a little harder, flexing your hand in his grasp. You bit your lip and focused on where your hands met.

“Sprain”

“H-huh?”

“You sprained your hand” He pulled his hands away and you hated how your heart dropped at the loss of contact.

“Oh..”

Law pushed his chair out and stood up, walking around the doctor’s office and looking for things, opening a few draws. You did your best to stifle any laughter from watching the very tall man try navigating his way around storage designed for a very small reindeer. It was comical.

“Avoid using it wherever you can for starters” he explained pulling out a small box and returning to the desk. “Ice will help it; you should have come to me sooner about it but” yeah, he was a doctor alright you mused as he took your hand once more. “Ice for twenty minutes every two to three hours will help with the swelling, I’m going to bandage it up right now, a compression will help support your hand while it heals, I suggest elevating it as much as possible.”

You nodded along while watching him work on your hand, he did so much damage to people, you’d seen some of the things he was capable of, he was terrifyingly powerful. But the way he held your hand still, being firm but gentle was a side you didn’t think someone who’d swapped out people’s body parts and rearranged souls for what seemed like fun could ever be capable of.

“Come to me tomorrow morning and I can re-do it if needs be” you wished he’d hold your hand longer, but he moved to get something else, a little cup which held two pills.

“For the pain”

“Thank you” You watched him pour you a glass of water and handed it you, aiming for your good hand. You gulped the medication he’d given you and drinking the water to chase it down you let out a sigh.

Law simply nodded in response to your gratitude, saying nothing more as he got comfortable in his seat once more, taking a swig of his black coffee, no wounder the man never slept, you stood from your seat and excused yourself with a small ‘goodnight’ closing the door.

Walking along the deck, just the sound of waves lapping against the ship to keep you company. You turned the corner and pressed yourself against the wall, your newly bandaged hand laid over your heart as you stared out to sea, watching the moon shimmer across the dark surface of water. You felt your lip tremble.

The feeling you’d wanted all your life, the tight feeling in your chest, the fluttering of butterflies, all-encompassing feeling and desire to be by someone’s side. You were in love. You were in love with Trafalgar Law of all people, and you knew this wouldn’t end well for you.

You bit your lip, slowly sinking to your knees on the wooden deck of the ship. You could feel tears prick your eyes. This was going to hurt, worse then never knowing what it was like to long for someone.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Request: Grief Always Lifts (Volturi x Reader)

You didn't expect to be sent away from the Cullen's. You were quickly chastised, never to look at it as being sent away, rather putting you in the care of someone else for your benefit. Losing a parent was never easy and it didn't need to be said that you were struggling. You went on day by day, the simple mundane things reminding you of your father and in turn, your loss. Carlisle and Esme thought it best you had a break from America. Somewhere new to really work through your emotions. The last place you thought they'd send you is to the Volturi. 

Sure, Italy was nothing like you were used to but the coven they said would care for you isn't entirely the caring type. You weren't even sure as to what made them agree to having you in their care but you had no doubt Aro probably latched onto the possibility of rekindling his friendship with Carlisle. Regardless, you agreed. A symptom of your grief that they had noticed. You weren't entirely present, agreeing to be convenient and not having a particular want for anything. Carlisle and Esme insisted that if you weren't comfortable, you didn't have to go but you left reassuring them you'd be fine. 

Marcus recognised the look in your eyes, beyond the exhaustion and blank stare your emotions were loud and clear to him. You felt so much pain that with some irony, you looked to be dead. As though the loss had killed you. However such a statement couldn't be further from the truth. You were very much alive, nearly drowning in whatever was going on in your mind. 

The three leaders welcomed you and made sure you knew the higher ranking guards names. Anyone you came across was introduced. Many matching your own blank expression take away the exhaustion that hung over you like a blanket since a few days after your fathers funeral. 

Demetri and Felix were the ones who took you to your room. You took in the room before turning to the two guards. "Thank you for all of your help." Your voice was as monotone as the minute you had arrived. Although your facial expressions were at bare minimum. You didn't blink very much and it gave off the illusion that your face was trying and very much failing to emote and keep up with your words. Demetri nodded once and the two took their leave, letting you settle in. 

"They look like they haven't slept in days." Felix said quietly. "Apparently they have been sleeping, that's just how they are currently." Demetri responded. Felix looked perplexed. "They were sent to us for a reason Felix. The Cullen's wouldn't have asked us if they weren't desperate." Demetri said. "Sure, it's just odd to see them so lifeless." Felix replied. Demetri nodded. "Seeing them like this in comparison to how we last saw them is very strange. Even the twins seemed to be caught off guard." 

"Is the room to your liking?" You looked over your shoulder to see Caius approaching you. "It's great." You responded. "Thank you so much, I don't think I've ever stayed somewhere to extravagant before." Caius cracked a smile. "We have expensive tastes here. I imagine that isn't the only thing you have noticed though." "You're right. The decor isn't exactly modern yet you still have the random TV, electricity and such. I think what I'm trying to say is that it's a perfect combination of old decor and convenient modern day technology." Caius hummed. "That is good. I can't say many of us use most of the modern equipment, although it has its uses every now and then. Such as warm water for you." It was your turn to crack a smile. It was nice they remembered the little details. "I've never had a room with a balcony. Not had one with such an amazing view either." You could see out to the ocean beyond the cliffs, the sun setting creating a cool breeze. "Yes, it is very beautiful. My wife adores the view. She doesn't see the buildings as much from the tower but she sees the sun rise and set. That's enough for her, she says." Caius said looking in the direction of the setting sun. You noticed Caius was never this talkative with anyone, never mind a human. It had gone from polite pleasantries to a conversation and you weren't sure what to make of it. "We must ask something of you, (Y/N). A few things actually." "Okay...I mean, it makes sense since you're letting me stay here." "We only ask that you do not leave your room when we are feeding. A guard will tell you when we are going to feed and when you can leave. At most you'd be in for an hour. We must also ask for your phone. You are more than free to make calls using the phone at reception but due to all of the things mobile phones can do, we must insist." You nodded. "Sure, that's reasonable." You dug into your pocket for your phone before handing it over. "Oh wait, can I turn it off first?" Caius looked down at the device in his hand. "I believe that would be best because I don't know what I'm looking at with these things." You cracked a smile, holding down the power button. "There." "Thank you." Caius nodded. 

They noticed that you slept, a lot. Sure they were told between 8-12 hours is enough but they let you sleep a little longer in case of jet lag or time differences. That was until it became apparent that these were no longer an issue. It couldn't have been healthy.  It was no surprise to anyone when Demetri and the twins opened your door to find you asleep. They already knew that of course, as did the rest of the castle. You were tucked into the covers, your face buried into your pillow, only the top of your back being visible to them. It would have been amusing or even adorable at the time, if it wasn't very concerning. 

Demetri crouched at your bedside. "(Y/N), it's time to wake up." Demetri said softly. You shifted before shaking your head. "Come on, darling. You'll sleep the day away." "Let me." Was the quiet grumble you responded with. This was confirmation that you weren't in high spirits today. Demetri rubbed at your arm that was under the covers. "We can't let you do that, darling. We'll be more than satisfied if you get out of bed and get changed. It'll make a lot of difference." "No, it won't." There was a whimper in your voice that time. Your grip on the covers tightening, your knuckles going white. "It doesn't bring him back. It doesn't make the day any easier because he's gone." Demetri moved closer. "I dreamt about him." You said, a sob breaking through. Demetri rubbed your back as you sobbed. Anyone with a sliver of empathy would have found it difficult to watch. Demetri had no doubt that he seemed like a villain to you right now. Asking almost the impossible but it was better for you. Not to mention, the leaders had already decided that this couldn't continue. "I know you're suffering right now sweetheart." Demetri rubbed back again soothingly. Demetri looked to the twins, nodding to them. A silent message to relay what had happened here to the leaders, to confirm the distress they could likely hear. "One step at a time. This is all you have to do today. In fact," Demetri paused, looking around the room. "why not get changed into those softer clothes you have. The ones you say are more comfier like your night clothes. Can you do that?"  It took a lot of coaxing but you caved, doing exactly that. 

A couple of more days passed and you seemed to just cry your way through them. Aro was the first to approach the matter. "I know that this all feels like an ending but you may find that-" Your gaze shot up to Aro's like a deer in headlights, feeling tears build up once more. "Aro, I don't think I'm ready to hear this right now." You managed out in a whisper. The only way the words would leave your mouth. "I thought I'd have my sister with me forever." Aro told you with a sad smile. "We were many years apart but she was my sister. We may not have grown up together but we were going to make up for that...with forever. One day that changed. I lost her. I won't lie to you, I will always remember that pain, and I'll still feel it every now and then but with time, it isn't so raw. It doesn't consume you as it does when it's fresh." You dropped your gaze from his once more, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. "This feels like a pain that will never go away." "It lifts every day, my love." Aro responded. "Loss creates wounds and sometimes they scar but that's alright." Aro nodded.  

A tear ran down your cheek as you bit back a sob. Aro's words were actually comforting. It validated your feelings, telling you that you could feel that way whilst not undermining or dismissing it as something to be ignored as it would go away. Furthermore, it was a meeting point to help you understand that the pain you felt wasn't going to drown you, no matter how deep the pain went. It would get easier and you wouldn't forget. 

A day passed and it was possibly the most draining day you had yet. You felt tears constantly. Sometimes they fell yet it was for no reason, they'd leave as quickly as they arrived without explanation. Therefore you couldn't give any explanation to the Volturi. You were somewhat reluctant to see Marcus when he asked for you but you also knew you weren't in any position to refuse. 

You found the door was open as you entered. The room only illuminated by the fire to the right of the room and surrounded by two couches that looked old and exceptionally expensive- a dark brown wooden frame with padding covered with a rich red fabric. You quietly sighed to yourself the moment your eyes landed on Marcus. His back was turned to you, a very old, large book holding his attention. Or so you thought. "I know your pain, child." He said as you moved towards the fireplace, your arms crossed over chest. "I'm sorry for your loss." You grumbled.  Marcus turned to look at you before moving towards you. He gestured for you to sit in the seat behind you. As you did, he sat down opposite you. "I'm more concerned about yours." He responded. "We find ways to cope with loss. You have lost your way whilst trying to find yours." "I'm fine if that's what you're asking." You said. "I'm not asking. I know how you are feeling, (Y/N). I know not what you are thinking." Marcus replied. "You could always ask Aro. He's seen inside my head-." "Aro's sight is nothing to me in this case." Marcus interrupted. "It's meaningless. Hearing it from you gives it meaning." "You want me to talk about it." You said flatly. Marcus said nothing but looked at you expectantly which had confirmed your suspicions. You looked away, contemplating if you should. You came to the conclusion that it wouldn't hurt. "I can't really figure out where I've to go from here, in life. I've never had to live without him." You answered.  "You go on, little one. There is no direction. No one is pointed in the correct direction. At the end of the day, you go there yourself. With everyday, you go on and that's exactly what you're supposed to do." He responded. "When someone puts their all into you, their love, their effort, their time, they grow a bond to you that can never be broken, not really. It's always there. So when someone loves you so much...it's never goodbye." Marcus continued. "The truth is...losing someone is never easy. It changes you and it changes your life but it's never more important to remember that life goes on and people will miss you when you're no longer around. I know you well enough to know you'd want your loved ones to carry on. That's what is being asked of you now."  Hearing Marcus' perspective was actually important to you in hindsight, seeing as he endured such a painful loss that still haunted him to this day. It meant he understood the feeling of something missing in your life. He knew that better than anyone. Although much like Aro's advice it was difficult to put into practice. 

Four days passed and you were fed up of the grief and the constant tears for the tiniest thing. When Caius wanted to see you, you couldn't help but think that he was going to lecture you. Tell you to get over yourself like you had told yourself time and time again. So when you met him on the balcony, you asked. "I suppose you're going to tell me to toughen up right?" You asked Caius. Caius turned his head to look at you, instead of the ocean view. "Is that what you need to hear?" Slowly you shook your head. "So what would be the point?" He asked and you shrugged. "I don't know. I'm just thinking about everything he wanted from me. If my time with him was enough." Caius hummed. "A parents wish is to never outlive their children. They raise you wanting you to be better than they could ever be and live your life as much as you can. Even more so, enjoy it. Be safe and happy, free of doubt." Caius continued. "He got so many years of your life and I bet if you asked him...he wouldn't give up even a moment of the time he had with you. I'd say your father did a wonderful job raising you." "Was it enough though? Was it enough to make him proud and continue believing in me?" Caius cracked a small smile. "I think your father couldn't be more proud of you every day he walked this earth and if there is life beyond the living, he's just as proud." "How do you know? That I made him proud?" You asked after a moment of silence. "Simply because I am proud of you and not only are you not my child...but I am also very difficult to please." Caius responded with ease. You had to swallow hard against the lump in your throat. "Everyone in this castle, every vampire no matter the rank has outlived their parents. Although you may be surprised to know that many among us, had their own children that they have since outlived. All of different ages, from the old to the young. Every single one would tell you the pain of outliving their children was much worse." Caius assured you. Your eyes narrowed. "is that supposed to make me feel bad for my feelings?" You wouldn't have expected any less of him. Caius hummed in amusement. "Not at all, it's something to consider that your father wouldn't have had it any other way." Caius responded. 

You weren't sure when things had changed but the grief wasn't so heavy on you. So much so, you got out of bed at a decent time, got changed and came down for breakfast.  Felix checked in on you as soon as it was evident you were awake but left you to get ready for the day in peace. After breakfast you found both Felix and Demetri in one of the living rooms watching TV. 

You had gotten closer to the two over time. Demetri went out if his way to make sure you were looked after and Felix tried to be something of a friend or even a distraction as he tried to include you in almost everything. 

"Well look who's here!" He grinned. "Come and pick us a movie. You've got good taste as we've learned." Felix patted the empty seat next to him. "No, I need to sit on that side of you- that's my good side." You said. "If I need to have your magnified gaze on me it should at least be on my good side." Felix paused, a small smile growing on his face. You couldn't help but giggle at his expression. "I'm sorry? You're good side? What does that mean?" He said through chuckles. "Is this a human thing I don't know about? You have sides to you now?" "No!" You started but began giggling hysterically. "Listen, I need to know how many sides you have. Is this like personalities? Which side came down to breakfast this morning?" Felix continued and you laughed even more. "Or is it an angel and devil kind of thing? Did you leave your bad side upstairs, sitting in the sink? Which is another conversation all together by the way." "No!" You laughed. Felix turned to Demetri. "I was sent to check on them Demetri, do you know where I found them? Sitting in the sink! When did humans ever do that!?" "It was to get closer to the mirror!" You cried out in your defence. "To check on your good side by any chance?" Felix responded. You had doubled over so much in laughter and uncontrollable coughing Felix looked at you quizzically. "Breathe, (Y/N), it's kind of popular amongst your kind!" Felix's statement didn't help you. Instead you laughed more, curling up into a ball where you stood. "What are you doing now!?" Felix said in mock exasperation, beginning to chuckle himself. "I have to or I'm going to pee myself!" You managed out and Felix suddenly roared in laughter. "Friend, Demetri, listen, Carlisle needs to order a new human. This one is broken." Felix laughed hysterically as Demetri smirked with a playful eye roll. You wiped at tears that had built up in your eyes. "Ah, see, now that you've stopped yourself from relieving yourself on our floor, it's coming out your eyes instead. Humans are great!" "Felix, that is not how that works." Demetri said, his eyes wide as you continued to laugh. "Yes I kn- you ruined my joke! Of course I know that!" Felix face palmed.

Felix stood up, pulling you to a stand and bringing you to sit with him, his arm over your shoulder. "There, there, deep breaths. I've got you kid." Before you could blink he was on the other side of you. "Soothe both sides of you." A other giggle escaped you as he grinned. Demetri looked at you both with a smile. This was much more like the human they were accustomed to. 

The day before you left, you visited Caius at his office, wanting to thank him for everything he had done for you. You were beyond aware he didn't have to say anything to console you. Yet he went above and beyond. "Come in." You heard his stern voice behind the door. "Hi, do you have a moment? I can come back later if it's more fitting?" You asked, looking at him as he moved a few sheets of paper to the side of his desk. "Not at all, you chose a very good moment. What is it?" Caius stood up, moving away from his desk and approached you, closing the door behind you. "Hm?" Caius promoted, slightly softer in tone than he had before. "I wanted to thank you, for taking me in and being there for me when I needed it most. I didn't have the expectation but you went above and beyond more than I could have ever asked of you. I'm grateful." You said. "Well, you certainly needed it. That I can tell you. It's a joy to see you've been more like yourself lately." Caius responded. You felt yourself gradually grow a little more emotional by the second. In some strange way, you were going to miss him and others of the Volturi. Despite being rather rough around the edges. "I don't know if anyone has ever told you this." You began. You feared his reaction but couldn't keep the thought to yourself. "You'd have been a really great father." You said swallowing against the lump in your throat. Caius looked slightly taken aback. His expression changed to something you couldn't quite describe. Awe wasn't the correct word but looked to be the closest thing. His eyes softening as though you had melted his heart with those words alone. He said nothing, unable to believe what he had heard. You immediately closed the gap, hugging him tightly. Caius inhaled sharply, uncertain what to do as you hugged his waist and your head against his chest. You couldn't see it but felt as Caius relaxed, a small smile growing upon his face. You felt a hand cradle the back of your head softly as his other arm wrapped around you. He bent ever so slightly, his head resting on top of yours. "You take care of yourself. Understand? I expect to hear of your transformation soon." He said quietly. When you broke away, he wasn't so emotional. Instead he gave you his signature smile. "I promise." You responded as he led you towards the door. 

Marcus was the next you visited, around two hours later. Softly, you had knocked on his door to his own study and received a soft "Enter." in response. "Hi." You began meekly. "Do you have a second?" You asked as Marcus was putting a book back on book shelf. One of many that covered the whole wall with cabinets at the bottom. "I do." He nodded, turning towards you. "I...Oh hell, this gets harder to do each time." You said, eyes wide. Marcus tilted his head. "Take a breath. I won't bite." Marcus offered you a comforting smile. You smiled at the irony. "I wanted to thank you. You took me in and helped me through probably the most difficult thing I've ever endured in my life. You didn't have to and you did anyway. I wanted to say thank you. I appreciate it more than I could put it into words." Marcus smiled slightly. "Then allow me to thank you, dear (Y/N)." You raised an eyebrow, confusion crossing your features. "It's not often we have such young hearts here, all of ours have faded. You may have shown us that humans can be such wonderful things. Some of us might argue you to be the most wonderful of all. So thank you for blessing us with your presence, little one." You felt tears build again, rendered speechless. Marcus smiled, if anyone understood. It was him. "Your father would be so proud of you and every moment you've spent with us has been nothing short of a gift to us. Never forget that." You nodded. "I'll never forget what you've done for me. I can't express how thankful I am to you and the Volturi. I don't think I could have gotten through this without you." "Ah, ah, remember my dear. You were always going to come through. You've always had that strength in you. That was never strength that we could give. You've had it from the very beginning. It just takes some time." Marcus softly took hold of your arms. "I know it's going to make longer than our time together to properly heal from this. Although I'm more than confident that you will be just fine." As tears threatened to fall, you smiled at him. "I really don't get how you don't have children." You said and Marcus chuckled. "It wasn't supposed to be." "They'd be so lucky!" You responded as the two of you moved towards the door. Marcus chuckled. "If I ever had a child, I'd hope they'd turn out like you." 

When you finally got a hold of Aro, it was in the throne room with Marcus and Caius. You bit your lip. "There's so much I want to say..." You said to him. "...but every time I go to talk I nearly cry." You admitted, the lump returning in your throat. Aro chuckled slightly. "Allow me then, my dear. You've shed enough tears." Aro stood up, descending the stairs with his hand extended towards you. You held out your hand and he took his, cradling it close to his chest. A warm, genuine smile grew on Aro's face. "We have such high hopes for you, young (Y/N)." He said softly. "Your time with us has been wonderful. You are a beautiful soul, my dear. The pleasure was ours, truly. You have no need to thank us." Aro finished. "I trust you will join our kind soon enough. Until then, be safe and send my regards to my dear friend Carlisle." You nodded and Aro nodded behind you. There stood Felix and Demetri who escorted you to the entrance. 

The twins stood in waiting, dismissing the receptionist as you approached. "Is that everything?" Demetri asked, nodding to the bags beside the desk. You nodded. "Yeah." You looked at the four of them, silence overtaking the room. "I wanted to thank you guys too. I know it's not easy to be around a human like you have since I've been here. Especially an emotional wreck of a human." You noticed Alec's slight smirk at this. "Oh come here!" Felix finally said loudly, hugging you tightly. "I'm going to miss having a human around here." He grumbled. "...the receptionist?" You reminded him. "It's not the same! I actually like you!" You smiled into his broad shoulder. "I'll miss you, Felix." You said. "Don't! I'll find a way to keep you!" Felix grinned, squeezing slightly. "They'll never know. I'll find a way!" You giggled as the two of you broke the hug. 

You stepped away, your attention moving to Demetri. "Of course I have to thank you!" You smiled, hugging him before he could respond. He smiled down at you, patting you on the back lightly. "Be safe." He said to you quietly. Finally you looked to the twins. "I know you two don't do the hugging and I've put you two through enough." Neither responded but Alec's gaze wasn't so harsh. It was an improvement as neither of them were glaring at you. "Thank you for putting up with me. I know it must have been annoying for you to have me around- being a human and all that." You smiled slightly at them. The twins were silent but you caught Alec sending you a smile. Whilst they didn't say anything to you, Alec's smile told you a lot. They didn't completely hate you. You weren't as bad as they had thought. Although they weren't quite willing to let their guard down around you. "You two take care." You nodded to them with a smile before turning away. "I believe the car is outside waiting for you." Demetri said with a small brief smile.

[hrtiu]

Boba/Fennec prompt: Boba really likes Fennec's hair (or her fingers, or some other, very specific part of her body, whatever you like) and can't stop touching/admiring/playing with it, and she goes from confused that he cares so much about that part to irritated that he Won't Leave Her Alone to embarrassed that he's paying so much frakking attention to her ((to realizing she likes it)) to secretly being endeared by his cuteness. Bonus points if she blushes a lot because of all this and he likes that too ;)

Thanks for the prompt! I think I ended up with something probably a bit angstier than you were thinking, but hopefully you'll still enjoy it! AO3 link.

Every morning Fennec Shand sat down in front of her burnished chromium mirror and did her hair. She started with the main braid down the center of her head, then wove together three smaller braids to either side. Once she’d tied off each individual braid, she plaited all seven together into a dark, twisting tail that reached almost to her waist. Then she took a long string of orange-red fiber and threaded it between the braids at the top of her head, tying them down and securing her bangs as flat against her scalp as possible.

“Why do you always have your hair like that?” Boba asked one morning when she came down for breakfast in Old Jabba’s palace.

“I don’t know. Why is your hair always like that?” Fennec said, helping herself to a generous slice of bantha bacon.

Boba let out a gruff laugh and shook his head. “It must take forever.”

Fennec stabbed her bacon with unnecessary force. “I don’t do it when I’m on an assignment, and beyond that I don’t see that it’s any of your business.”

Boba didn’t say anything for a long moment, and Fennec wondered if maybe he was going to apologize. If he did she’d probably die of shock.

“Hmm,” he grunted, then returned his attention to his breakfast.

It was the reaction Fennec expected, but she found herself both relieved and annoyed. Shaking the contradictory emotions away, she finished her breakfast.

---

Living on Tatooine wasn’t all enforcing Boba’s will and collecting tribute. Boba was a benevolent warlord, and Fennec especially enjoyed being a part of his more generous impulses.

Most recently he’d bequeathed a chunk of his land to a tribe of Tuskens who’d cooperated well with him in the past. The Tuskens saw it as Boba returning the land to them, but regardless, they were going to be its permanent, uncontested tenants. Most of the Tusken Raiders Fennec had met seemed to enjoy their nomadic lifestyle, but this tribe was interested in putting down roots—so long as they could do it on their terms. As a show of good faith, Boba was donating three large moisture vaporators and a system for water storage to the village, and Fennec had been looking forward to the day of their installation for months.

Tribespeople clustered around the massive spires dug into the packed earth beneath the dunes, talking amongst themselves and asking questions to the mechanic who’d come up from Mos Eisley to install the thing. The poor translator Boba had dragged along was working doubletime to sort through the confusion.

Fennec stood next to Boba above the dug-out space, just a little outside of the cluster of activity. She wasn’t here to do much besides reinforce Boba’s involvement in the donation of the generators, but she was enjoying herself nonetheless. A small child whose face wrapping kept coming untucked approached the vaporator and turned the spigot, screeching in delight when clean water poured onto her outstretched hands. Fennec couldn’t help but smile.

A group of young Tusken women approached them, their hoods draped over their faces and ornamental collars jangling against their cloaks as they walked. They thanked Boba in sign language, and he signed back his appreciation with short, stilted hand motions. They giggled at his discomfort with their language, and Boba’s scarred face reddened.

“Great,” he grumbled to Fennec. “I knew that protocol droid wasn’t teaching me right.”

“Calm down,” Fennec said, resting a hand on Boba’s arm. “You’re doing fine. Just let them enjoy themselves.”

Boba frowned, but the gesture didn’t reach his eyes. He leaned into her touch, and Fennec felt light and warm.

The girls turned their attention to Fennec, and her contentment turned to unease. One of them pointed to Fennec’s braid and made a twisting motion with her hands, bringing her fingers together as her wrist turned. The other nodded in agreement, adding in a few giggles for good measure.

“Oh, um…” Fennec stuttered, unsure how to respond.

“They’re saying it’s pretty,” the translator from Mos Eisley said, hurrying up the steep hill towards them. “She says your hair is pretty.”

“Ah,” Fennec said. Heat rose in her cheeks, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. Boba snorted and smirked at her, and she shot him a quick glare before smiling back at the girls. “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

The translator signed Fennec’s response back to them, and they nodded and made gestures of thanks to Boba and Fennec before retreating back to where their tribe clustered around the vaporators.

“So they’re allowed to talk about your hair, but I’m not?” Boba asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Fennec said, already heading for the steep slope that would take her down to the rest of the tribespeople. They’d be eating dinner soon, and it wouldn’t do for her and Boba to be late to the table.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t need to make sense,” Fennec said. “It’s just what I want.”

Boba rolled his eyes but followed Fennec down the slope, his steps awkward and careful on the slippery sand.

“Always what you want,” she thought she heard him mutter under his breath, but that could have been the whisper of the winds against the sand.

---

“Shand! We’re going to be late!” Boba yelled at Fennec through the thick door of her room.

His booming voice startled her, and one of her fingers slipped before she was able to tie off the last of her individual braids. “Dammit,” she muttered. “I’m coming!”

“I’m not going to look weak in front of Kanjiklub because you couldn’t stop fiddling with your hair,” he said.

The corners of Fennec’s mouth turned downwards and she saw her own eyes flash in the mirror. “We’re not going to be late. Calm down.”

His boots thudded heavily against the floor as he paced back and forth in front of her door. Fennec’s frown morphed into a full-blown scowl and she made sure to take extra care to get her braid right, taking her time with each knot. Boba needed to learn patience, and he needed to learn that she wasn’t some massiff he could train to do his bidding.

She finished up the braid then moved on to weaving the orange thread around each cord, laser-focused on her task but unhurried in execution.

Boba’s fist pounded on the door once more. “If you don’t hurry it up I’m going to cut off that damned braid myself!”

Fennec froze. She pressed her lips together and stood from her chair, leaving her hair weaving half-finished. She stalked to her bed, pulling her boots and coat off as she did so, then fell into her thick, fluffy blankets.

“...Fen?” Boba asked through the door, though this time his voice was softer—almost chastened.

Fennec held her wrist comm up to her mouth and messaged Dilick Wa, the other bounty hunter Boba kept on retainer at the palace.

“Wa? You there?” she said.

“Yep. What’s up?”

“Meet Boba on the landing pad. You’ll be going with him to meet Kanjiklub tonight.”

“...But weren’t you going-?”

“Just do it.”

She shut off the coms.

---

Lights flickered by for every floor they sank underground, each beam illuminating the red-tan-and-white of Boba’s scarred features. Normally Fennec didn’t like being underground, but on Florrum she might be willing to make an exception. Relief from the unrelenting heat and sulfur-infused dust was worth the loss of adequate sniper perches, in her opinion.

“So,” Boba said. “Arawat Ragistar. Anything else you can you tell me about him?”

Fennec forced a shrug. “Like I said: he’s an assassin. He has plenty of other skills, too. He’s tricky and dangerous, but in general he’ll stick to his word if you pin him to specific commitments.”

Boba nodded slowly. “How is he as a business partner?”

“Wouldn’t know. I only knew him as an assassin.” A heavy pause filled the space between them, and several more floors passed in silence.

“He’s a real bastard,” Fennec said, and she wondered if it was some strange trick of the senses that made her voice sound several decades younger to her ears.

“I know you don’t like him, but we need good connections on Florrum.”

“I know.”

The lift slowly came to a stop, and Fennec tensed as the doors opened. A shiny protocol droid welcomed them into the bare, utilitarian bunker that served as Arawat’s headquarters, and they followed it through a series of round vault-style doors. The final door was bigger than the rest, and it opened on a broad audience chamber, at the end of which sat a sleight, waspish Sullustan. Her old mentor.

“The great Boba Fett!” Arawat said, throwing his arm wide, “Welcome! And Little Fennec, you’ve come back home!”

Fennec nodded her head in response, biting back a bitter response. That was what he was fishing for, after all.

“Arawat Ragistar, thank you for having me,” Boba said, moving to sit in the plush chairs across from Arwat’s restrained setup. “You’re not an easy man to find.”

“Of course not,” Arawat said. “What good assassin would be easy to find? Isn’t that right, Little Fennec?”

Fennec pursed her lips. “Right.”

“We’re interested in bringing some of our import routes through Florrum,” Boba said. “It could be profitable for the both of us.”

“Now Fennec Shand, on the other hand. That’s a name I’ve heard of,” Arawat said, as if he hadn’t heard Boba at all. “‘Best assassin in the galaxy,’ I’ve heard. Of course, if anything I’d taught her had sunken in, she’d know that the best assassin is the one you’ve never heard of.”

Boba’s jaw clicked—a tiny motion Fennec doubted most anyone else would notice. “I’m not sure how that’s relevant to our arrangement.”

Arawat leaned forward over his knees and threaded his fingers together, and Fennec’s own stone face stared back at her in the mirror reflection of his shiny black eyes.

“It’s vanity, you know? Pure vanity,” he said, his voice silky smooth. “Like that hair. Do you know how many times I told her to cut it? There is no tactical advantage to long hair—not a single one. The only reason to keep it is vanity, pure and simple. ”

Fennec stared back at him, refusing to look away. Boba had fallen silent at her side, but she hardly noticed him any more in her peripheral vision. She was back 35 years in the past, her reflexes sharp and her body lean, but her spirit broken.

“Couldn’t quite get all the Chandrila out of her after all-”

“We’re through here,” Boba cut Arawat off, standing to his feet.

Arawat finally turned his attention to Boba, his jowls flapping excitedly around his cheeks. “What? But we were-”

“We’ll bring our goods through some other way. Thank you.”

Boba turned to leave and Fennec followed after him, her jumbled thoughts struggling to right themselves as she kept up with his assertive pace. The protocol droid started leading them back, but Boba brushed past him, retracing their steps to the lift with ease. Arawat didn’t follow.

The lift opened for them and Fennec followed Boba in, holding her tongue until the doors sealed shut.

“Are you crazy? We need his cooperation,” Fennec hissed as the lift zoomed upwards. Her eyes darted to the corners of the lift, searching for the holo cameras she knew must be somewhere.

Boba bristled. “I’m Boba Fett. I don’t need anybody except-” He shut his mouth. “We don’t need anybody.”

The lights from the lift illuminated his face at regular intervals, but the open emotion he’d shown down below was gone. Back was his stoic warrior’s face, the one she’d grown to respect but couldn’t fully trust.

“Fine,” Fennec said after a weighty pause. “Mustafar should work, anyway.”

“Mustafar?” Boba asked incredulously.

“Just get a few heat-resistant vehicles and you’re golden. That hostile environment is its own security.”

Boba grunted in agreement, and the lift continued upward. They fell into a companionable silence, and though the tension in Fennec’s shoulders gradually fell, she still ran her fingers nervously up and down the end of her braid.

---

The last time Fennec had been to Naboo it had been for a hit. The beauty of the planet hadn’t been lost on her at the time, but the elegant promenades and magnificent waterfalls didn’t look quite the same through a scope. This time she and Boba were here for a business deal and she had a chance to truly appreciate Theed’s splendor.

She leaned against the stone balustrade bordering the balcony and closed her eyes, letting the faint mist from a nearby waterfall gather on her face. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, but they were the comforting, familiar gait of her partner, and she paid them no heed.

“Hiram agreed to our terms,” Boba said from her side. “Production can start next month.”

“Hmmmm,” Fennec hummed. “Sounds good.” They’d thought negotiations would last longer. That gave them three whole days to relax before their shuttle was scheduled to depart.

The breathtaking vista before them occupied all of Fennec’s thoughts. In the distance threads of water laced their way down verdant green cliff sides, and elegant copper-colored buildings stood above the cliffs like sentinels on watch. The waterfall closest to their villa roared as thousands of gallons toppled over the edge every second, and Fennec could feel the power of it through her feet and into her bones. She closed her eyes in appreciation. Beauty and power—the ultimate combination.

Boba leaned on the balustrade next to her, bringing him into her orbit. “I ordered dinner,” he said.

Fennec hummed again. Dinner in their private villa overlooking the waterfalls sounded perfect.

Boba stepped to the side then his warm breadth was at Fennec’s back, enveloping her like a thick cloak. She tensed, her instincts screaming at her to bolt. But maybe this time, she didn’t want to run away.

With a sigh Boba rested his chin on Fennec’s shoulder and his hot breath tickled at the loose strands of hair that had escaped their bindings by her ear. She shivered.

Boba leaned further into her and rested his cheek against the side of her head. He took a long, slow breath in and turned his face more towards her, his nose catching slightly against her braids as he moved his head up and down in what could only be described as a nuzzle.

Fennec’s breath caught in her throat. “Boba…”

“Easy,” he murmured. “I’m just enjoying the view.”

Fennec couldn’t help a soft snort at that. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Maybe,” he said, his breath heavy and thick in her ear. “But I don’t usually have a chance to relax and enjoy it.”

His hands slid up to her arms and he pulled her gently backwards, stepping behind them until he reached a plush daybed set near the back of the balcony. He sat down and she went with him, allowing herself to be tugged into his lap.

She didn’t think. She just let her senses bask in his warmth, in his sturdy, fierce presence. She reclined against his front, her ear pressed up to his unarmored chest. His heartbeat thudded clear and strong against her cheek—a steady, constant presence she was only just realizing how much she cherished. He rested his chin on top of her head and held her loosely around the waist.

Water tumbled over the cliffs of Theed and time passed, but Fennec didn’t notice either. All she felt was an unfamiliar sense of peace and security. Maybe, after all these years, she wasn’t broken after all.

“...We could always extend our stay,” Boba said, his voice a gravelly rumble through his chest.

“Hmmm.” Fennec closed her eyes and let her fingers cling to the fabric of his tunic.

“Or visit other planets. Maybe even go to Chandrila.”

The distant blare of alarm bells sounded in Fennec’s mind, but she did her best to ignore them. It was nothing. She was fine. She was at peace, and she trusted Boba.

“I’ve never been there before,” Boba continued. “You could show me around.”

The alarm bells shrieked, and the peace shattered.

Fennec hauled herself out of Boba’s lap. She stepped back to the edge of the balcony and ordered herself not to look back. It was colder now, but the chill was familiar. “We should leave as we planned. I need to check in with our supplier in Mos Eisley.”

“Fen, come on-”

“I think I’ll call it a night.” There was a courtyard of space between her room and Fett’s, but maybe she’d stay someplace else for the night.

Boba got to his feet and followed her across the balcony, but he made no move to touch her. “You wear Chandrilan braids every day. You can’t tell me you hate the place-”

Fennec rounded on him. “I may be in your service, but that does not mean I have to tell you anything about my personal life.”

Boba grabbed her by the wrist, the snarl he usually reserved for his enemies rising to his lips. “Shand, can we leave the carbonite bitch act behind for once?”

Fennec wrenched her arm from his grasp and shoved him back. “Touch me again and I’ll kill you.”

She whirled around and fled the balcony, making first for her room before turning instead towards the villa’s entrance. How far away could she get for the night? It might be an interesting challenge to see.

---

She came back the next morning. She was a professional, and she trusted Boba to understand the line he’d crossed. And just as she’d expected, he didn’t mention anything about the previous night’s blowup. Two days later they returned to Tatooine, and life continued the same as ever.

Boba’s business ventures on Tatooine were actually fairly legitimate. He built up the local economy, gave loans to entrepreneurial spirits, increased imports and exports exponentially, cracked down vigorously on (unsanctioned) crime, and generally made the miserable ball of dirt and sand that was Tatooine a more tolerable place to exist. That being said, nobody could be successful in the Outer Rim while working completely above board.

Which was why it came as no surprise when the Hutts sent assassins after him for co-opting a chunk of their spice territory.

Fennec squeezed off another round from her perch on one of the palace’s domes and allowed herself a smirk of satisfaction as the target dropped.

“Last intruder down,” she said into her comm.

“Good job,” Boba said from his safe room below. “Let’s give it a half hour to see if anyone else crops up. Then regroup in my study.”

“Copy that.”

Fennec waited patiently in her perch, her sharp eyes staring through the scope for any sign of additional assailants. She was reasonably confident she’d dispatched them all, though, given the size of their transport and typical Pyke Syndicate strategies. Fennec snorted to herself. The Hutts must be really strapped for cash if they were resorting to hiring Pykes.

After the allotted time had passed with no sign of other hostiles, Fennec climbed down from her perch and made her way to Boba’s rooms. Boba was neither sentimental nor high-maintenance, but the comforts of the past few years had led to him accumulating a certain amount of personal belongings to display in his quarters. Mandalorian relics, his father’s old helmet, a Clone Wars-era DC-17—that sort of thing. Fennec walked past his mementos and met him at his armchair near the back of the study.

“All clear?” he asked, looking up from a datapad streaming updates from his security system.

“As far as I can tell. Hutt enforcement really isn’t what it used to be,” she said.

“Not the only thing around here that’s getting rusty, it seems,” a soft voice hissed behind her ear.

Fennec’s eyes widened and she twisted around, but before she could move a cold, slimy hand had her by the hair and a vibroblade pressed up against her gut.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Arawat’s hateful voice whispered near her ear. “Little Fen still has so much to learn. What did I tell you about our work? The best assassins are unseen.”

Fennec’s heart seized in her chest and with each breath her stomach pressed against the vibroblade. For now it was cutting through her coat, but soon enough it would be her skin.

“You might want to rethink your position,” Boba said, slowly rising to his feet. “There are two of us and only one of you. One way or another, you’re not getting out of here alive.”

“Ah haha, the mighty Boba Fett. You know, if you were your father I would be afraid right now. Old Jango wouldn’t hesitate to let a subordinate die to get ahead in a fight. But you’re not like that, are you?” Arawat said. With each word his fleshy jowls slid along Fennec’s neck, making her skin crawl.

Boba bared his teeth and the divots and crevasses of his scars almost turned his expression inhuman. “Care to test that theory?”

“Yes, I think I do,” Arawat said. “Put your weapons down, or I’ll gut her like a fish.” The blade pressed further into her stomach, drawing the tiniest sliver of blood.

Boba met Fennec’s gaze, and an understanding passed between them. Something Fennec had always known somewhere in the back of her mind came to the forefront, and she set her jaw. She trusted Boba. She trusted him more than she’d ever trusted another living person. She trusted him more than she trusted herself.

She didn’t know what he was going to do, but something in his eyes told her to prepare. She slowed her breathing, diminishing the blade’s contact with her flesh, and moved her hand just the slightest distance closer to the vibroblade she always kept tucked into her belt.

Boba moved to disarm himself, one hand going slowly for his blaster while the other stayed up and opened for Arawat to see. Then the thrusters of his jetpack activated, and he barreled right into Arawat and Fennec.

For several chaotic, terrifying moments, Fennec’s world was a tangle of clattering metal, unidentified limbs, and confused violence. Somehow, Arawat managed to maintain his vice like grip on her braid, and while momentum threatened to pull them apart, Arawat held onto her hair with a vicious tenacity. When they landed in a heap on the other side of the room, he yanked her to him again. Boba made a lunge for Arawat’s blade, but he wasn’t going to be fast enough. Fennec needed to get away. As she was, she was a liability.

She pulled the vibroblade from her belt and cut behind her, severing the thick braid right at the base of her skull. She flung herself away from her old teacher, and by the time she looked back Boba had already shot the Sullustant in the chest.

Arawat Ragistar was dead, and she and Boba Fett were both alive. It was a win.

She lay panting on the floor, her heart racing and blood still oozing from her side. As the adrenaline faded, her awareness tunnelled on the length of coiled black hair still hanging from Arawat’s limp hand where he slumped against the wall.

Strong arms pulled her to her feet and inspected the cut to her side, but Fennec hardly noticed.

“Hey,” Boba’s gruff voice cut through the haze. “Go see Pershing and get this stitched up. Then get some rest.”

She nodded numbly, then went to do as ordered.

---

Pershing gave her a few stitches, then added a thick bacta patch for good measure. Fennec didn’t feel anything, and Pershing’s complaints about not being a medical doctor and his demotion to glorified nurse slid easily in and out of her ears. Eventually he was done and her feet found their way back up to her rooms. She shut herself inside and sat down at her desk, her head feeling strange and floaty without the familiar weight of her braid.

Fennec stared at her reflection in the mirror, her face unchanged but somehow unrecognizable in its new frame. A soft knock sounded at the door, and she didn’t bother to shout the intruder off.

Careful footsteps sounded around her room, and Boba’s mangled face appeared above her in the mirror, the softness of his expression completely incongruous with his scarred visage.

Slowly, gently, without a word, he reached for her hair. He ran his fingers through their short, chopped length, sifting the strands carefully from side to side.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

Fennec stared into his eyes through the reflection of the mirror, her body frozen in ice. Leaving her plenty of time to protest, Boba’s calloused fingers gathered up several hanks of hair from the crown of her head and started braiding. She’d never let anyone see her process before, but that didn’t stop him.

She barely had enough hair to reach the nape of her neck, but still he braided a short rope down the center of her head, then three smaller ones on each side. Then he picked the orange thread up from her desk and wove it between each braid, the extra support of the thread maintaining the seven braids’ integrity despite their length.

The last person to braid her hair for her had been her mother. Fennec could still remember the feeling of her thin, deft fingers in her hair, could still hear the sound of her soft, gentle voice cooing at her while she worked. She couldn’t remember her mother’s face, couldn’t remember her name, could hardly recall even the vaguest impression of what Chandrila was like. This memory was all she had left.

Fennec’s shoulders shook, and with a start she lifted a hand to her cheek and realized she was crying. The braids now completed, Boba let his hands fall to her shoulders, where their generous warmth helped hold her together.

Boba turned her chair around to face him and knelt down in front of her, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. “It will grow back. But even before then, you’ll still be beautiful.”

She turned around in her chair and slid her arms around him, burying her face into his stomach. He sank down to the floor and pulled her down with him, holding her and murmuring unintelligible sweet nothings as he stroked her hair.

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this,” she said, her voice raspy with tears.

“I’ll never let anyone see,” Boba said. “I’ll close my own eyes if it will help.”

Fennec chuckled, her body shaking against Boba’s solid torso. “No, I think it’s alright for you. But only you.”

“Hmmm,” Boba hummed. “It’s a deal, then.”

Fennec rolled over onto her back, then tugged Boba on top of her. “It’s a deal.” She threaded her fingers together behind his neck and pulled him down to her.

[barnesandco]

Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit. 

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

[paellaplease]

HAII!! if it hasnt been done yet, could you do revali x reader with basorexia? maybe reader really wants to give him a kiss but she really cant since,, yknow she has lips and he has a fuckin beak so she just decides to give him a lil smooch on the cheek? idk that was just an idea i had in mind, u dont have to write it!

22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss.

pairing: revali x reader summary:  revali spirits you away to enjoy the new years eve festivities.

   In the darkness of your room, you awoke to the sound of a soft tapping on your window. Twisting in the mess of blankets and pillows, you pushed aside the papers and textbooks that had accumulated at the foot of the bed, noticing only then that the candle at your desk had long since extinguished. 

Head pounding, you rubbed at your tired eyes, feeling heavy. How long had you been asleep?

The tapping grew more insistent, forcing you to get up. Grumbling, you allowed yourself a second to stretch, ignoring how your room felt like water sloshing in a glass. 

"Yeah, yeah. Hold on!" You said, hobbling to the window. Brushing the mess of hair from your eyes, you pulled the curtains away and roughly pushed it open. 

The culprit hovered outside, eyes bright and smug. Revali looked very much at home though he was floating at a dizzying distance away from the ground. In the sleepy haze, he looked like a painting of some myth you had read before, with the late night sky as his backdrop and the outline of your window as his frame. 

"Took you long enough."

"Apologies. I thought some tree branches were hitting the glass." 

The Rito made a show of turning in the air. "Funny, I don't see any nearby trees."

"I know," you sighed, disappointed. 

Revali rolled his eyes and poked his head through the window, feathers brushing past your cheek as he ignored your personal space in favour of scoping out your room. The stiff turn of his neck as he looked around reminded you of the curious and confused little birds that landed on the sill from time to time. 

"Quite a dreary home you have here." Gesturing to the overall darkness, he pointed to your stack of scattered papers. "You shouldn't study without proper lighting, it's bad for your eyes." 

"I was asleep."

"Why, I'm surprised. And here I thought you were one of the festive many who choose to stay awake at an ungodly hour in order to count down the remaining seconds of the year."

"Well," you shrugged, not wanting to meet his eyes. "Not like it's anything special. New year, same shit. What difference would a countdown do?" 

Biting down on your tongue, you stopped yourself from saying anymore. The cold breeze sifted past the light shirt you were wearing, making you shiver. 

He was right, normally you were one of those people who stayed up, excitedly watching the hands of the clocktower tick til they reached midnight. You enjoyed the energy of being in a collective crowd, waiting with bated breath for the first inhale and exhale you would take into the brand new year.

The final month on the Hylian calendar brought a sense of relief and a hope for new beginnings. Usually today of all days  you were at your happiest, jumping at the prospect of celebrating along with the rest of the kingdom and yet…

That sinking weight clawed at your chest again, forcing you to clamp down on it once more.

You grimaced. There it was; that bitter feeling. Hylia. How annoying. It twisted in your brain like an angry snake, pulling down your mood and enthusiasm along with it. 

Last year you wanted to cheer and dance until the morning light. Now all you felt like was staring at the wall. Or falling asleep. 

You blinked, turning back to the window to see Revali patiently waiting for you to continue. Feeling your face warm, you hustled your brain to get a move on. A coherent thought would be great right about…now!

"Hey have you ever wondered why they don't grow trees on this side of the castle? It's not fair the more expensive quarters get all the pretty greenery. I mean, non-noble guests still need that sweet oxygen everyone keeps raving about, you get me?" Shut up brain, that's enough. I said a coherent thought. C o h e r e n t. 

Stars in his wings, Revali shook his head but answered anyway. "I agree, it's hardly fair. Also go change into something warm, we need to get you outside."

"What? Why?"

Something in the Rito's expression clued you in to the fact that he wasn't in the mood to play stupid. You've been sitting in the dark for the past few days and it didn't take a private investigator to know it was playing tricks with your head. "Fine, but when I say we go back--we go back, got it?"

He huffed, turning around to give you some privacy. "I promise on my honour."

The brightly lit lanterns of the town square made you squint as you shuffled closer to your guide, the sound of the city loud in your ears.

Though less prominent, the twisting feeling in your gut continued, making you more hyper-alert than usual to the world around you. Adjusting the sleeves of your coat, you followed Revali past the streets, the Rito expertly navigating through the sea of people. 

Somewhere along the way he had taken your hand, and you told yourself it was a good way for you both to stick together. Wouldn't want you getting lost and spending the final minutes of the year playing an elaborate game of hide and seek after all. He was a great friend like that. Nevermind that everytime you would hold his wing a little tighter to remind yourself that he was there, he would always squeeze back. 

You needed a distraction. 

Just focus on everything that's not him.

The night was alive with the sound of music. It didn't matter if you partied with an alcoholic drink in hand, or a glass of milk, everyone in Hyrule was filled with an addictive buzz that came with an event that only happened once a year. Vendors with bright smiles called out from their stalls, the smell of freshly baked sweets or the sizzle of a barbecue beckoning you to take a closer look. To your left, a group of friends raised their hands in the air, loudly welcoming a Goron that had turned up late but regardless had finally arrived. 

The archer followed your line of sight, guessing the question bouncing in your head. "Daruk is in Eldin, probably rattling Death Mountain with that story again about the Moblin camp and the barrel of explosives."

"I love that story."

"Of course you would."

"Sorry about your feathers though."

"Whatever, they grew back."

"How about the one's on your--"

"Anyway," he interjected quickly, playfully nudging you to the side and glowering at your laughter. "We've been told to 'take a break'. The other Champions have chosen to spend this day with their families and loved ones. We are planning to regroup and continue preparations in the days following."

"How about you?"

"I already said it."

Your cheeks coloured at the implications of his words, mind replaying the previous sentence. Families and loved ones. Families and loved ones. He didn't even hesitate. You both were not related. So that left you with...

"Woah!" Digging your heels into the dirt, you abruptly paused your brisk walk and saved yourself from colliding with the archer's back. 

Stopping at one of the stalls, Revali held two fingers up. You glanced up at him questioningly but he refused to give anything away, expression relaxed. The vendor returned quickly, the Rito thanking them quietly and placing the payment on the bright yellow table cloth along with a large tip in their jar. 

He turned around, dropping a square shaped pastry into your hands. It was some kind of rice cake, with a fluffy exterior and a golden baked surface that smelled of butter and felt warm like the sun. 

Taking a bite, you smiled at the hints of coconut that were hidden in its sweet flavour. The sticky treat was familiar somehow. "Is this so luck sticks to you in the new year?"

Revali scoffed, though failed to hide his own smile behind the cake held in his wing. "You said the same thing when we first met. You need new material."

"Says the baron of bird puns."

"I am the king." He punctuated the statement by biting into his own rice cake. Offering his wing, he gently took your hand once more, turning back to step again into the busy promenade. 

Following him, you noticed that the crowds ever so slowly began to thin. A lantern lit hill was coming up. The grassy expanse was dotted with a few people, though it was blessingly not as populous as the town square. "I should be the one that's surprised. Thought you hated crowds unless their attentions were all on you."

"It's tolerable so long as I am with good company." 

The both of you walked up the hill with an unspoken agreement to make it to the top. Taking a seat on the grass, you allowed yourself to breathe, chest heaving from the small burst of exercise after days of being sedentary. 

The twinkling lights of Castle Town stretched out before you. Gazing at it, you could imagine all the untold stories hidden in the glowing little pockets of the alleys and in the hushed whispers behind closed doors. Funny how in a city so full of people, one can feel so alone. 

Revali was the first to speak, breaking you from your thoughts. "I think I can understand now. Looking at it from this distance, it really can feel like nothing much has changed."

You continued to stare at the lights, trying to focus on a certain string in an attempt to ground yourself. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like though the world continues to spin, I'm remaining completely still. Just stagnant."

Frowning, you ran your hands through the grass, feeling the dirt shift under your fingers. You could feel your frustrations building, bubbling up to the surface with no way of dragging them back down. 

"And the challenges just get worse every year. How am I going to face those old problems and these new ones if I'm still the same lost person I was back then?"

Your voice echoed at the last sentence, making you hide your head in embarrassment. That was loud. 

Some strangers relaxing on the hill turned around to flash you an annoyed glare, before quickly returning to their picnics after spotting the Great Eagle Bow on your friend's back. 

 "I'm so sorry." You wanted more than anything then to dig a hole and hibernate preferrably for the next hundred years or so. "I'm yelling, that isn't like me. I'm so so--"

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You needed to say it." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. There was a serious element to it that made it a little hard to breathe. "There is one part of that I don't agree with, however."

"What is it?"

"That entire section about you, how did you put it, stagnanting." He twisted a wing in the air, thinking on his words before pointing a feather directly at your face. "You're fully capable of enacting the change you want to see in yourself."

You felt a little dizzy now. But another kind of dizzy, one very different from the vertigo you felt waking up in the darkness of your room. 

"And who said you were exactly the same as you were back then? You've changed. In a good way. You're stronger and more capable of things I'm sure the person you were two years ago or even less couldn't even fathom doing." 

Turning to face you, Revali gave you his full attention, compelling you to do the same as the cadence of his speech joined the steady rhythm of your own beating heart. From the back of your mind, you could barely register the sound of people gathering together, their voices floating into the cold night air. 

'Ten!'

"It's difficult to see your own progress from a distance."

'Nine!'

"So take my advice and start looking at yourself up close for once."

'Eight!'

He had that expression on his face, one that said he was thinking too hard about something. It was like watching him try to pull the planets together with just a piece of string. His brows were furrowed so deep that your fingers wished to run over his feathers and smoothe the worried creases. 

'Seven!'

You slowly reached out to him, giving him enough time to back away. Revali stilled as your hands traced up the nape of his neck, leaning in as his pulse thrummed underneath the soft pads of your fingertips. 

'Six!'

He opened his beak the moment you reached his face. You paused, half expecting him to tell you to let go and pretend like it never happened. 

Instead, he called out your name. 

'Five!'

He said your name again, though quieter now. It was enough to tug at the invisible force drawing you two together. Enough so that the polite distance nervously enforced by the both of you gradually began to dissipate, trailing away like a ribbon of smoke as you both leaned in closer.

'Four!'

"May I--," He cleared his throat, eyes darting away for a second before they were back on you again. Bright green in the lantern light. Emeralds in the desert sand. 

'Three!'

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

'Two!'

"Your way or mine?" You couldn't help but joke. Revali smiled, exhaling a soft joyful laugh before pressing his forehead to yours. 

'One!'

'Happy New Year!'

An earth-shaking boom rattled your ears, but all you could think of in that moment was Revali and the feel of his feathers against your skin; the utter elation of being so close to someone you deeply cared for and that cared just as deeply for you. 

In the dazzling light you lifted your head from his, both your eyes meeting for a brief moment. Hands moving, you gently angled his face with a steady hand, feeling then the soft, butterfly light brush of his wings on your waist.

Closing your eyes again, you leaned in to press your lips against his beak, the blush on your face warmer than any fever or furnace. The Rito's soft sigh was barely audible as you trailed your kisses upwards, stopping at the red circle on his cheek. 

Revali laughed again as you turned his face to press a kiss to the identical red mark on the other side. "You're very thorough."

"You deserve it." You beamed. "And this is just the beginning, just you wait at the end of the countdown I'll--"

"Actually my dear," he grinned, pointing to the sky. 

"Huh?"

Above you were the vibrant colours of the firework display. It was beautiful and awe-inspiring, but a confirmation that you were definitely minutes in to the new year.

"Oh," you said, before shaking your head with a smile. "It's fine, we got 12 more months to prepare ourselves for the next one."

Revali nodded, pulling you closer so he could press your foreheads together again.

"Indeed," he grinned. "Now will you finish your sentence? What exactly were you going to do at the end of the countdown?"

fin. 

[ikeromantic]

Lunches with Friends

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfic, approx. 1600 words. This scene takes place post-romantic route epilogue. Fluff, angst, and friendship.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Loyalties

Hideyoshi straightened his clothes once more. No matter how he smoothed the fabric, it felt awkwardly fit. As if it wasn’t the clothes so much as his skin that didn’t sit right. The chatelaine would arrive soon to meet with him and he felt nervous. Which was ridiculous. How many times had he talked to her before? Helped her carry her bags? Had tea? But today felt different.

Maybe because she wasn’t really the chatelaine now. She’d moved herself to Mitsuhide’s manor, an outward signal of her choice. But there had been no official decision from Nobunaga, no ceremony, and that meant there was a chance he could save her.

A polite tap at his door let Hideyoshi know she’d arrived. He cleared his throat and welcomed her in. Light followed her as the door slid open, golden on her skin. With her bruises healed and the exhaustion of travel gone, she was as beautiful as ever. Like a - a very pretty little sister. “Please, have a seat. I’ll prepare some tea.”

“Thank you! It’s been awhile since I visited you here.” She sat down gracefully. Her eyes tracked him as he moved around the room. “I’m glad you had time to meet with me. I wanted to ask, well, to see if I could change jobs.”

Hideyoshi hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t sure why she’d asked to meet, but this hadn’t even made the list. He covered his confusion by rearranging snacks on the tray.

She took his silence as encouragement. “I thought since Mitsuhide was going to continue his work for Nobunaga, I need to find something I can do too. Something besides chatelaine, since I live in the Akechi manor now.”

“I see.” Hideyoshi poured the tea and sat down across from her. “What did you have in mind?”

“I’d like to join the seamstresses.” She looked down at her tea, an anxious smile playing at the corners of her lips. “In my - my hometown, I designed clothes. Sewing is something I love and I’d really-”

He interrupted her. “It’s fine. I’ll clear it with Nobunaga.” He reached over and patted her head. “I want you to do what makes you happy, which is why -” Hideyoshi cleared his throat. “Which is why I want you to reconsider this, this thing with Mitsuhide.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide.

“I know he’s . . . interesting. But you can’t ever really trust him. He lies as easily as he breathes.” He wrapped his hands around hers, feeling how fragile and warm she was. “You deserve a love with trust that goes both ways. Someone that won’t lie to you, won’t hurt you.”

She pulled her hands back, out of his grasp. “And who is that? You?”

Hideyoshi rubbed his face, wishing just once he had the kitsune’s silver tongue. “It could be. Or Mitsunari. Nobunaga. Ieyasu . . . even Ranmaru. He’s closer to your age too.” He stood, unable to stay seated when his heart was hammering in his chest like this. “I . . . look, anyone would love you. And anyone but Mitsuhide would be a better match.”

Her small hands made tiny, white knuckled fists in the fabric of her kimono. “I love him. And I trust him. I know he sometimes . . . keeps things to himself. But he does it out of loyalty and kindness.”

“I’m sure that’s what he says-”

“Hideyoshi. I thought you were my friend.” Her eyes were damp with tears and her cheeks flushed with anger. “I can’t believe you! Trying to - to -”

“I am trying to protect you.” He bent down and took her by the shoulders. “If you marry him, you will never be safe. Never. Not from his enemies, and not from his lies.” His voice shook.

The chatelaine tried to pull out of his grasp as she stood, but he wouldn’t let her go. He pulled her close. Pressed her to his chest as if she were a balm to the thundering there.

“I love you. As my - my sister. And I can’t watch you hurt yourself like this.”

“Let. Me. Go.” She stared up at him as if she were seeing a stranger. “It is my choice who to love. And I love Mitsuhide. I will be his wife, even knowing that yes! Yes, it will hurt! I know what he’s like, and I know how dangerous the life he leads is. I am not afraid.”

Hideyoshi studied her face, seeing in it her iron will. She had decided and words would not sway her. He let go and took a step back. “Then . . . forgive me. I . . . misspoke.” He bowed low and waited there for her to speak.

After several breaths, she reached out, fingertips grazing his shoulder. “Can we just pretend that never happened? Hideyoshi?”

He straightened and gave her a nod. His chest still felt tight, his heart heavy as lead. “We can.”

She gave him a half-smile. “Good. Because I do think of you as a friend. Or, or maybe a big brother. And I don’t want to lose that.”

Hideyoshi cleared his throat. “I just need to understand that my little sis knows what she’s doing.” He tried out his own, awkward smile.

“Let’s sit and drink our tea and - we can talk about something else. Is that alright?”

With some relief, they sat down and resumed drinking their tea. They were quiet for a time, but eventually fell into the comfort of their relationship, sharing stories about the other maids and things in town.

***

Mitsuhide spent most of his morning drafting a letter to Sasuke. He wanted to make it clear what he was asking - but only to the ninja - and to cover his tracks should it be intercepted. Afterall, regardless of the friendship between his lover and Kenshin’s henchman, they were still enemies on opposing sides of an unresolved conflict. It would not do to be caught out for a treason he was actually committing.

The final letter probably read like nonsense to anyone besides Sasuke. Asking about the frequency of the ‘worms’ and whether or not they had a season . . . he just hoped the ninja understood. And that the answer was the one he sought.

He was in the process of sealing it up when his door opened. Masamune stepped in, carrying a covered tray in one hand, and a bottle in the other. He grinned when Mitushide looked up. “If looks could kill. You want a rematch for our raincheck?”

Mitsuhide chuckled. “I’d rather not. But you could have sent word that you were coming. Or at least knocked.”

“Ah, but then I’d miss that expression on your face. Crafty fox caught with a hen in his mouth.” Masamune’s laugh felt too loud for the room. He didn’t notice.

“I can only assume you are bothering me for a reason.”

“I am! I heard congratulations are in order. And, I haven’t brought you lunch since you got back.” Masamune sat down and gestured for Mitsuhide to join him.

It was the quickest way to be rid of him, Mitsuhide reasoned. And he was hungry. And, though he would never admit it, it was good to see Masamune. He sat.

Masamune unpacked the lunch he made. A variety of savory and sweet foods, all presented in easy to eat bite-sized bits. He grinned as he set out the last dish.

“What is this?”

“You always say eating is an annoyance. You want convenient foods, right? So . . .” he gestured to the plates. “Different flavors, all easy to eat. One of these has got to stir those tastebuds of yours.”

Mitsuhide hid his surprise behind a razor-thin smile. “Thoughtful of you. But what is it you want.”

“Exactly what I said. And to tell you congratulations. You and the lass made it official yet?”

“If you mean, have I spoken to Nobunaga, then no.” Mitsuhide picked up a ball of what looked like steamed daikon. “There is no need to hurry. Is there?” He raised an eyebrow.

Masamune shrugged. “I wouldn’t delay. The lass is a treat, and you can bet others have noticed. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear Nobunaga’s getting offers for her hand.”

“Those letters, if they existed, would never reach our lord.”

“Heh, that so? And what about those in the alliance with an interest?”

Mitsuhide finished swallowing the daikon. It was faintly spicy, not enough to get a reaction. “I am unconcerned. Nobunaga has allowed her to make her own choice. And I know who she will choose.”

“I think you’re scared.” Masamune sat back with a smug smile.

“Scared?” One eye brow arched.

Masamune nodded. “Of what your enemies will do to her if she’s your wife. Of the way love dies in a marriage. Of her coming to regret you.” He waved a hand in the air, encompassing all of the ways things could go wrong. “You always overthink things. Try to plan your way around problems. And now you’re stuck.”

Mitsuhide wanted to scoff. Such problems were for ordinary men, not the kitsune warlord. But . . . Masamune wasn’t wrong on any count. Ranmaru’s threat made him realize how easy a target the chatelaine would make. And he worried for her happiness. She’d yet to meet his family, see his home. And there were so many examples of marriages gone sour over time. This blissful love - he didn’t want it to fade.

“Assuming any of that nonsense was true, what would you recommend,” Mitsuhide asked finally.

“Stop dancing around it. Marry the girl. Take life as it comes. And eat your damn lunch.”

Next: My Favorite Place

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Four

Summary: In which a call for help leads to Flip and Pretty Girl facing their feelings.

Warnings: Smut. 18+, NSFW, Swearing, PIV. WC- 5,506

A/N: Admittedly very excited to write the chapter. Suffered a few days of migraines this week, which now has me questioning every word I’ve written, but I hope you enjoy. To those who comment and follow regularly, you guys truly bring me joy and I appreciate you ❤️

Flip was dreaming in flashes. The events of the week prior, in the file room with (Y/N), replaying themselves over and over. Flash, her wide eyes. Flash, the way she wet her lips. Flash, the brief look of disappointment when they were interrupted. He’d been ruminating on that look, however neither of them brought it back up again-not after the meeting, where she’d sat next to him with her foot shaking uncharacteristically, nor on the silent drive home. It just...sat in the air between them, a balloon neither of them wanted to pop.

Already suffering from poor sleep quality, Flip was now sinking into a permanently exhausted state with the addition of nightly dreams that kept him on the edge of consciousness. His brain seemed determined to keep thoughts of (Y/N) at the forefront regardless of the time of day. He had been in love a few times in his life; with women who were kind, eager to become the housewife of a detective. But he never felt for anyone like he did for (Y/N). The protectiveness, the desire to know everything about her, to know what she was thinking...it was overwhelming. And so the dreams kept him tossing each night. And while he might have stayed like this, fighting them until he slipped into a deeper sleep, he was instead abruptly awoken when the phone next to his bed began a shrill ringing.

“Christ,” He mumbled, jerking up and rolling over. The clock on his bed stand read two-thirty in the morning. He grumbled in displeasure, intending on ignoring it. When the ringing didn’t cease, he groaned and reached for the receiver, his voice gruff with sleep when he barked, “Zimmerman.”

“Um, hi Flip.”

Flip immediately tensed, sitting up as the sound of (Y/N)‘s voice came down the line. His mind was already running ahead making the worst assumptions about why she would be calling so late on the weekend. It wasn’t a surprise when his voice came out slightly choked, “Pretty girl, are you alright? Are you safe?”

Her voice sounded somewhat strained with regret, “I’m safe, really. I’m so sorry to bother you so late-“

“Just tell me what you need, darling.” He interrupted, twisting to drop his feet to the floor and casting his eyes around the dark bedroom for his sweatpants.

She sighed, “The power went out here a few hours ago, and I’m not sure why. But with the weather tonight it’s absolutely freezing in here now. And my brother in law is away for work,” She took another breath, which Flip recognized was her attempt at hiding how cold she was, “I feel silly calling you.” He smiled, pleasure blooming in his chest at the realization that after her brother in law, Flip was the next person she trusted to call in the middle of the night.

Flip hummed slightly at her words, “No reason to feel silly-I’ll be over there in ten, take a look for you.” A voice in the back of his mind questioned whether this was a wise choice, but he pushed it back, ignoring it. She needed him.

“You don’t have to do that. If you could maybe just tell me what to look for on my, uh, breaker? Electric panel?”

Now he couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out, “I’m coming over, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

A quiet thank you met his ears as he put the phone down. Flip switched on the light and stood, making his way around his room to put on his sweatpants and sweater before stopping in the bathroom to freshen up and splash his face with water to wake up. The combination of cold water and mint from his toothpaste helped accomplish this. Excitement flooded within him at the realization he would get to see her so soon.  

Pulling his shoes on, he considered if there was anything he should bring. He knew she probably had a toolkit but wondered if she would have a high powered flashlight. Deciding to lean on the side of caution, he grabbed his own from the kitchen drawer before sliding on his rain jacket, grabbing his keys and heading out into the cold night. It was rainy, a combination that meant the roads were especially tricky to drive on. His ten-minute drive was closer to twenty, tension building in his stomach the closer he got.

He was worried about being alone with her, of the risk of crossing a line. Worrying she would ask him what she had in the file room.

“Are you sure you aren’t keeping anything from me?”

How did you confess to loving your best friend, when they were the only good thing in your life?

When Flip pulled his truck onto her street, he noticed straight away that it was darker in her neighbourhood than on the main road. Glancing around at the houses, he saw no lights on, not even on porches. Parked in the driveway, Flip looked at (Y/N)‘s dark house as he stepped from his truck, then around the street. It was eerily dark, even the streetlights were out. So it had to be a power outage from the weather and not an issue with her breaker.

Hopping up her front steps, Flip rapped on the door softly. After a moment, the door opened to reveal his friend smiling shyly, a flashlight in her hand. “Hi Flip, come on in. Thanks for coming.”

She stepped back and secured the door while he removed his jacket and shoes, shaking some rain from his hair. “Hi, darling.” He looked around at her then, drinking in her casual appearance.

Her hair was falling in soft waves over her shoulders, her face clear of makeup. She wore a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms with an oversized CSPD sweatshirt. Flip felt his stomach fill with heat at the sight of her looking so...radiant. Innocent. Soft.

“Got some good news, and some bad, darling.” He said after a pause.

She gestured for him to follow her into the living room. Glancing around the cozy space, he saw she had lit a few candles along her fireplace mantle to bring some light to the room. Even in the dim light, he could tell the space was decorated entirely by her. Her personality shone through even in the choice of wallpaper.

(Y/N) leaned against the back of her couch, hands gripping it as she gazed up at Flip, “Always bad news first.” He wanted to reach out and smooth the little pucker between her brows.

“Well, looks like the whole neighbourhood is experiencing an outage, no lights-not even the street lights.”

She sighed heavily, “Great, so not something that can be fixed right now-meaning I woke you up for nothing.” Dropping her head into her hands, he heard her give a little grunt of despair.

Flip smiled down at her, amused. If only she knew he couldn’t sleep anyway. “The good news is nothing is wrong with your breaker. And now that I’m here we can get you set up for the night so you don’t freeze. It’ll probably be out for a while.”

She peered up at Flip through her fingers, eyes assessing his grin. “You’re not annoyed with me?”

Flip forced himself not to step closer to her, “No, darling. Now, let’s get a fire going.”

They worked in silence, the only sound the distant rain and occasional blasts of wind. Flip stacked the firewood, thankful her fireplace was large, while (Y/N) laid out the newspaper strips and kindling for him. Once he had the fire roaring, Flip assessed the room.  

The comfortable looking couch was set back from the fireplace, a coffee table in the centre. Standing, he dragged the table out of the way before coming to the couch and pulling it toward the fire. It took a minute, as it was a heavy son of a bitch, but after some finessing he was satisfied it was close enough without being unsafe for her to sleep on and keep warm. He’d wanted to avoid having her sleep on the floor.

While he’d been moving the furniture, (Y/N) had disappeared. He took a moment to survey the setup, then bent over the fire and took the poker to adjust the logs. She returned several minutes later, pillows and blankets in her arms. She dropped them over the back of the couch, then glanced up and met Flip‘s eyes. She paused, standing nervously, hands twisting together absentmindedly. “Um. Can I get you anything? Milk? Water?”

Flip probably should just thank her and make his way home, he’d done what he could for her. He could easily leave now. Instead, he nodded, “Milk would be nice, thanks.” Spinning around, she hurried away to her kitchen, leaving Flip alone again. He considered his next moves. He could just drink the milk in one gulp and then go home. Only...he wanted to stay. Even if just for a short while. The thought of spending time with (Y/N) that wasn’t during their drives to and from work thrilled him. It couldn't hurt to stay a little longer.

He settled himself on the ground, leaning his back against the couch and crossing his legs comfortably. The warmth from the fire was welcome; it was chilly inside her place.

(Y/N) reappeared, padding across the carpeting, “Here you go,” Handing him his glass, Flip took it and watched as she joined him on the floor, copying his pose so that her knee touched his leg. His heart rate increased.

He grabbed one of the larger blankets and carefully settled it over their laps. They sat in silence for several minutes, each watching the fire dance before them as they sipped their drinks. Flip heaved a sigh of content. “Always loved a good fire.” He admitted, smiling down at her.

“Mmm, me too. Listen, Flip,” Turning to face him, he saw her mouth pressed into a thin line. She tucked her legs back and propped one arm onto the couch. Flip met her gaze steadily, prepared for her to apologize. “I’m really sorr-“

Flip shook his head, cutting her off, “I’m glad you called. I don’t mind, and I can tell you’re more upset than you’re saying.”

Her eyes dropped, looking down into her drink before taking a sip. “I-I’m not a fan of the dark. Silly, I know.” She gave a little laugh that didn’t suit her. Flip could sense she was uncomfortable, tired and still cold. He hated to see her looking so self-conscious, unhappy. It lit something within him that was almost animalistic in its intensity.

“It’s not silly, (Y/N). I don’t like it much myself.” He replied, taking another drink of his milk, finishing it off. “You need to stop apologizing to me all the time, haven’t I told you I could never be upset with you?” When would she start to believe him? He gave her a reassuring smile while his hands gripped the empty glass, attempting to keep himself from reaching out to tuck her hair back or stroke her cheek.

The light of the fire revealed the way her cheeks flushed deliciously at his words, and suddenly she was looking everywhere but at Flip.

“I want you to know, Flip,” (Y/N) shifted, mirroring his position by gripping the glass she held, “You mean the world to me, and I’m thankful every day to...to call you my best friend. You take such good care of me, never make me feel bad...always know what I need,” Her words were rushing out, soft and breathless as she stared down into her drink, “Most men would have probably just told me to start a fire and go back to bed, but you just come straight over and-“ She gestured around to make her point. Slowly, her eyes moved up and met his gaze.

Flip turned her words over in his head, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. To stall for time, he reached over and took her glass from her hands. Setting both on the floor behind him, he came to a decision. Conceding to the desire to touch her, he took her small hands into his own. He ran his thumbs across the soft skin of her wrists, relishing in the contact.

“I like taking care of you, darling. You do so much for me and give yourself no credit. You worry every time you need something yourself,” He searched her eyes as he spoke, wanting to catch any expression that passed through them, “I like spending time with you. Making sure you’re safe, and I-well, you’re my best friend, I’d do anything for you.” He broke off when a hot tear slipped down her cheek and onto the back of his hand.

Her eyes were a storm of emotions as she looked at Flip, tears leaking out, her lips quivering. His whole chest tightened as he watched her. He automatically released her hands, raising his to cup her face. He brushed his thumbs under her eyes, wiping away the tears gently, before meeting her gaze again.

The air in the room seemed to evaporate around them. Electricity shot through Flip’s entire body, and he couldn’t have said who moved first, just that one moment he was looking from her (y/e/c) eyes to her lips, and then their lips pressed together. Flip felt like he’d burst into flames, and he gasped at the sensation.

(Y/N)’s hands had moved up from her lap, now holding the collar of Flip’s sweater and pulling him closer as they kissed. He gripped her face, fingers in her hair, nearly moaned at how soft her lips were against his. Instinctively, his tongue swiped across them, and she responded by parting them, allowing him to slip inside her mouth. He groaned loudly at the overwhelming taste of her, of the heat of her mouth. He'd never tasted anything so fucking perfect.

When she whimpered loudly, it caught Flip entirely off guard. Though heat pulsed straight to his core at the sound, it brought him back into his mind and he jerked back suddenly, breaking the kiss.

(Y/N) hadn’t been expecting his sudden movement, so when Flip had pulled back and her grip on his shirt didn’t loosen, she only ended up falling into him. Her eyes peered up at him, pupils blown and cheeks flushed as she leaned into his chest. She panted, “Wha-?”

Flip was trying to catch his breath, to clear his head. He’d just kissed his best friend. They were alone in her house and they had kissed, and the entire situation was terrifying to him.

He didn’t think he could stop if they kept going.

“I’m sorry, I-fuck, pretty girl, do you know what you do to me?” He growled, his hands still holding her face. Her eyes widened further as he spoke. “Do you realize how much I love you? How fucking perfect you are?”

She was trembling uncontrollably, “Flip, fuck I-did you say you love me?” Shock crossed her face, her mouth falling open into an ‘o’ shape as she processed what he’d said.

Damn it all, he thought. It’s out now. “Are you kidding me? Sweetest, most beautiful woman I ever met.” He huffed, never looking away, “(Y/N), I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you came out of that bathroom, afraid of that damn spider. Keep falling harder every day. You drive me crazy, pretty girl.”

His heart was in his stomach and his mouth had gone dry, but it felt good to admit it out loud, to tell her about the feelings he’d been holding back for so long. She was silent for a long moment, just staring at Flip in complete disbelief. He braced for whatever she was going to say, promising himself that he wouldn’t regret ever telling her the truth, even though his heart might burst right out of his chest.

He hadn’t expected her reaction; when her mind seemed to catch up with itself and the surprise disappeared from her face, replaced by something that had Flip catch his breath. And then her lips were on his again. She was released his collar to push her hands into his hair, whimpering as she pressed her body against his in a frantic flurry of motion.  

Flip, though caught off guard, wasted no time in returning the fervour of her kiss, deepening it by sliding one hand further into her hair and pressing her face into his. He licked into her hot mouth eagerly, enjoying the little moans and whimpers that slipped out of her as she kissed him back. After a moment, he dropped the hand that wasn’t woven into her soft locks and gripped her waist, tugging her closer. (Y/N) moved, swinging a leg over his lap and straddling him fully.

“Fuck,” He growled when her hips, settled right where he wanted her, ground into him, desperately seeking friction. “Pretty girl.”

Another whimper, “Love it when you call me that, Flip.” She tugged his hair and Flip groaned again, his entire body on fucking fire for this woman. Did she truly not realize the effect she had on him?

He released his hold on her and slid both hands under her sweater, ghosting across her soft stomach as he continued to pepper kisses onto her cheeks, her jaw, down her neck. His hands climbed higher, brushing the undersides of her breasts, his dick twitching as he realized she wore no bra beneath the bulky sweater. He wanted to kiss every inch of her body, to suck and bite marks into her skin as she moaned for more, but he needed to make sure, absolutely sure, she wanted this.

With a great effort, he pulled away, his hands stilling on her bare waist, and said her name. Before he could say more, she was cutting him off, eyes bright.

“You big, grumpy man. My rough, tough detective. I love you too,” She ground her hips down again, pulling a growl from deep within Flip. Combined with her words, the effects had Flip slowly coming undone, his clear mind fogging up with thoughts of her, her body, her pleasure. “I wanted to tell you, but I was so afraid of losing you. I think about you all the time, did you know that, Flip? Do you know I lay in my bed every night and picture you? Touch myself and it only takes a minute to-“

“Fuck,” He thundered, interrupting her and kissing her again, “Just tell me what you want-I’ll give you anything, everything. Tell me it’s okay-“

“I need you, Flip. I’m yours and I need you,” She accented the words with another swirl of her hips, Flip’s cock now straining against his sweatpants painfully, “Fuck me all night and stay in the morning, Flip.”

His heart filling with joy, Flip had heard what he needed. The next moments were spent frantically undressing one another-first her sweater; Flip’s eyes on her delicious tits as they bounced around while she stood and shimmied her pyjamas and underwear off. He drank in her beautiful, perfect body, all soft curves and flushed skin, as he kicked off his pants.

“Come here, pretty girl,” He rasped, pulling her back into his lap and groaning when her heat skimmed across his cock as she settled. Flip smoothed a hand up her back, bracing her carefully, and then lifted himself, rolling them so that her body lay on the blanket beneath them, her hair fanned out around her. “Fuck, you are so beautiful. Gonna taste you, okay?”

She whimpered her permission as he began his journey downward, taking his time to suck marks into her skin that he would lave over with his tongue to soothe. His hands found their way to her breasts and began to pinch and squeeze, rolling the peaks between a thumb and finger and groaning against her skin when she cried out in pleasure at the sensation.

“Oh god, Flip!” She moaned loudly when he took a nipple into his mouth, his tongue moving over it before he switched to her other breast. His hands slid to her hips, stilling their attempts to seek out the friction he was thus denying her. He trailed his tongue down her stomach, lowered himself to the ground between her legs and kissed the sensitive skin of her thighs, leaving more marks. He felt his cock protesting between his body and the floor but ignored it when he came face to face with her slick centre, already glistening for him. Framed with trimmed, soft curls, it was the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen.

“So fucking wet already, barely even touched you,” Massaging her thighs, he tilted his head up and met her eyes over the swell of her breasts. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you? Now put your hands in my hair while I taste this perfect fucking cunt.”

Her hands had barely threaded through his locks before his tongue was licking a long strip from the bottom up. Flip watched in delight as her entire body jerked in response, her head dropping to the floor, back arching. A long, low moan escaped her, and then he dove in.

Flip hummed at her taste, perfectly sweet and entirely her, turning him on even more. He licked everything, sucked on her sensitive clit until her legs began to shake, and then repeated it all over again. Occasionally breaking away to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of her inner thigh and revelling in the way she cried out his name each time. He never wanted to stop.

More of her juices flowed for him as time passed, as he edged her closer to her peak and then eased her back, teasing her without remorse. He wanted to hear her beg for more.  He wasn’t disappointed when, after pulling away the third time, her head popped up, “Flip, please, please let me cum. I fucking need to cum, you’re so perfect, I’m so close I can’t,” She broke off with a desperate whine.

Flip grinned, “Love hearing you beg for me, pretty girl,” He slid two fingers inside of her dripping heat at the same moment he wrapped his lips around her clit. He heard her head hit the floor as she screamed out, obscenities, his name, incomprehensible whines. He only had to thrust his fingers three times, curling them up each time they sunk into her before she came undone.

He was enraptured by the sight of her orgasm, the way her body jerked and tightened, her hands pulling his hair viciously as his name spilled from her lips. He worked her through the crest of her pleasure, humming against her to draw it out and drinking down everything she gave him. He thought he could die a happy man right there, drowning in her.

“Flip, fucking hell!” She cried out one final time, her cunt clenching around him when she became over sensitive to his ministrations. He eased back, kissing her thighs and licking gently at her folds as she came down, her hands dropping from his hair. He could have stayed there for hours, but his cock was protesting. Carefully moving, he brought his body up and lay over top of her, bracing himself on his elbows to keep his weight off of her as she caught her breath.

Flip growled at the sight of her blissed-out expression and kissed her hungrily, sloppily. She moaned, tasting herself on his lips. He leaned back up after a moment, “You still with me, pretty girl?” He gazed at her in concern, hoping he hadn't gone too hard.

A goofy smile split her face, “I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life, Flip Zimmerman. I’m pretty sure I’m on another plain right now.” He laughed, nuzzled her neck and ground his hips down, pressing his cock onto her thigh.

“You feel what you do to me?” His voice was low, “Been thinking about you for fucking months. Every day, all day, it’s just you. ”

“Flip,” (Y/N)‘s voice was breathless beneath him, her hands back in his hair, “Please, need you inside me right now, need to feel you stre-oh FUCK!”

He had slammed into her at her words, unable to hold back a moment longer. Splitting her open until he bottomed out, and then he stilled, panting, and checked in on her again. She was deliciously, dangerously tight around him, her walls already fluttering. She was crying out but nodding, seemingly unable to form words but wanted to convey to him that he could move.

“Good girl, just tell me if it’s too much. If this,” He slammed down again, earning another yelp, “is too much.” And then he began to pump, one arm braced on the ground while the other gripped her hip. He thrust into her wet cunt mercilessly, his eyes always on her face, watching for any change, any indication that she was in pain, but he saw only pleasure. Her screams only drove him on, encouraging him to move harder, to take what she so wanted him to and make her his. It was the best sex of his life, and Flip never wanted it to end.

When he felt himself getting close, he slowed his pace, kissed her once again, and then pulled back. Her heavy eyes watched as Flip, still deep inside of her, came to kneel and then he lifted her hips, adjusting her legs to one side, arms hooking under them. The new angle already had her whimpering before he began to move. She was so tight around him; he could see himself buried to the hilt inside of her and groaned at the perfect, obscene sight.

“Just,” He could barely speak, he was so turned on, “Tap my hand, if it’s too much, darling.” He knew she would tell him if she needed him to go easier, but he needed her to know she was safe with him, that her pleasure was the most important thing to him.

“Fuck me, fuckmefuckmefuck-“

With a roar, he was moving, his hips beginning a brutal pace now that he had the leverage of being on his knees. Her hands twisted into the blanket, tits bouncing as Flip hugged her legs and fucked into her as deep as he could. He repeated her name over and over, the only other sounds in the house that of skin hitting skin, the hot, wet noises her cunt made as she took his length, and her cries for more, harder, for him.

He felt her tightening around him after a short time, walls fluttering and getting wetter as he drove his hips into that spot over and over, unrelenting. “Going to cum for me, pretty girl?”

“I, fuck, Flip, I’m so close-you’re fucking filling me up oh god...”

“Cum, it’s okay, cum for me, please.”

As if waiting for him to ask, she instantly seized up at his words, and Flip almost went over the edge right there when her pussy clamped hard, her body jerking as the wave broke, and her pleasure peaked. He focused, holding off his own orgasm to chase her through hers, to drag it out until tears were in her eyes. His movements became sloppy, only slowing when he felt her begin to relax.

He had briefly wondered if he could keep himself on the edge, try to get another orgasm out of her. But then her voice cut through the air, firmer than it had been all night, and derailed his train of thought.

“Flip, please cum inside me, please, need your cum, please.”

“Fuck, fuck!” He cried out, slamming himself one, two, three more times, her words pulling him over, over, right off of the cliff and into oblivion. He kept his hips moving as he emptied himself inside of her, “Sweet girl, take it, fucking take it all.” Flip moaned, pumping every last drop of his seed with lazy thrusts, (Y/N) whimpering at the sensation of being filled. He had never cum like that in his entire life.

Though tempted to collapse, Flip was cautious as he lowered himself, kissing her stomach, breasts, neck, and then meeting her lips again. His tongue licked her mouth once more before he gripped her waist and rolled them. Now he lay on the floor with (Y/N) on top of him, head on his chest. Her walls still clenched around his cock. They both panted, catching their breath in comfortable silence.

Flip was clutching (Y/N), one hand rubbing gently into her lower back. His thoughts were thundering back, though they were happy. The realization of what had changed in the last two hours was making his heart swell in his chest. With their more primal needs satiated, his mind wandered. Because while that had been the best sex of his life, it was far outshone by the fact that his best friend had told him she was in love with him, too.

Flip grinned, and (Y/N) lifted her head to meet his eyes when she felt his movements.

“Happy with yourself, detective?” She panted, returning his grin with her best smile. Flip grabbed her waist and gently pulled her up, a little groan escaping each of them when his cock slipped out of her. Now level, Flip was able to lean up and kiss her, a chaste peck.

“Pretty girl, you’re the hottest fucking woman on this planet,” His voice was gruff from overexertion, “I feel like the luckiest man.” He continued, earning a happy little giggle.

“You say that like you didn’t just make me cum twice like it was easy.”

“Darling, I can make you cum all night if I want to. Just say the words.” He kissed her forehead softly.

A little whimper escaped before she could catch it. “Not saying I’m against the idea, but I need to use the ladies' room.” She made to get up but Flip held her tighter, stopping her. He wasn’t ready to be apart from her. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be ready, not anymore.

“I’ve got you,” He whispered. He repositioned her as he sat up, leading her legs to wrap around him and her arms to circle his neck. (Y/N) bit her lip as she let Flip raise them both from the floor, his hands sliding down to sink into the flesh of her bottom, holding her up. He carried her to the bathroom, kissing her between following her directions to the blue-tiled room.

He set her down on the toilet, then turned to the sink, squinting in the dark. One candle lit the room, and once his eyes adjusted he saw the neatly folded wash clothes on the vanity. He turned on the water and, knowing it would be cold, wet the cloth quickly before taking it to briefly wipe himself. He rinsed it and turned to (Y/N), who was still sitting on the toilet, her eyes following his every move.

“Did you pee?” Smiling at her comfortingly when she shied away from the question, “Pretty girl, let me take care of you.” He brushed his hand across her cheek affectionately.

“I did, yes.” She murmured. Flip nodded, then pushed her legs apart. Taking great care to be gentle, he ran the cool cloth along her folds. Ensuring to only move in one direction. She sighed in content as he cleaned her up.

Tossing the cloth into the sink, Flip picked her up again and moved them back to the living room. “You ever going to let me walk again?” She joked, clutching him close as he settled them down onto the couch. (Y/N) curled against him, one hand threaded in his hair. He reached down and pulled the blanket from the floor, covering their bodies, and kissed the top of her head.

“Meant what I said, darling.” He spoke into the night, his hand trailing up and down her back in soothing motions as the fire continued to warm the room, bathing it in a gentle glow.

The fire illuminated her eyes when she looked up, “I did too, Flip. And I-I don’t want to be just friends anymore.”

Flip nodded, one hand on her cheek, thumb brushing across the soft skin, “No, pretty girl, neither do I,” He agreed. They exchanged a look then that Flip would remember over everything else that happened during this utterly perfect night.

It sealed the love they’d been expressing that night, a look that told the other, I love you. I’m never leaving. You are everything to me.

“Get some sleep, beautiful. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

She snuggled in at his soothing words, a low moan of content rushing out before she closed her eyes.

For the first time in a long while, (Y/N) and Flip each fell asleep within minutes. Wrapped in one another’s arms, they would stay there until the sun came up.

Flip didn’t even need to dream that night.

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Tag list ✨ @tashastrange89 @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @morby @pradaxstyles

[glxssylaufey]

Mischief Maker - Chapter 1

a/n: PLEASE READ THE FIX TEASER BEFORE READING THIS :) i hope you all enjoy!

summary: loki x reader ; The reader is already faced with problems regarding Loki. Meanwhile, Tony plans a party.

word count: 3,461

warnings: minor bad language, mentions of drinking

taglist: @alex-sulli @delightfulheartdream

“Have I overcooked the steak again, Y/N?”

You didn’t quite realize that you were spacing out until Wanda’s voice had snapped you back into reality. You lift your head to find a mix of confusion and concern in her eyes.

“Oh not at all, it’s perfect.” you reassure her, poking at the dinner she had prepared for you that night. Wanda was a kind soul. She knew that ever since this morning you were on edge, so she thought that a homemade meal would help remedy your uneasiness.

“It’s okay if you’re not hungry.” Wanda assured you after a bit of silence. “I know you probably have a lot on your mind.” she spoke softly, feeding herself more food from her plate.

“Do you think I made the right choice?” you questioned, pushing your plate aside because you indeed were not hungry. Wanda continued to chew, allowing herself time to really think of the circumstances. What you did not expect was for her to stay silent even after her mouthful of food was swallowed. Normally when Wanda remained silent after receiving a question, it was not good news.

“Well it is true, people can change.” she suggested with a shrug. “I think you’re going to be just fine.”

You don’t blame her for avoiding the question because after all, you didn’t even know if you made the right decision agreeing to watch over Loki.

You opened your mouth to say something but was cut off by loud pounding on the door to Wanda’s room. You hopped to your feet, a low groan escaping your lips. What could possibly be going wrong so early into the ten days? When you opened the door, you were faced with a distraught Sam Wilson, frantically tapping his foot. Once his eyes meet yours, he gives you an exasperated look.

“What are you doing?!” he queried loudly. His tone was as if he caught you doing something unspeakable.

“Having dinner?” it came out almost like a question. “Is there something you need, Sam?”

“Yeah, I need you to do your job and get Loki out of the movie room.” he demanded, taking a step back to allow you out of the doorframe. At first, you didn’t quite understand what he was talking about, yet you followed behind Sam regardless.

~

When you reached the movie room, you were faced with exactly what you had expected. Some juvenile situation that could easily be solved if you weren’t dealing with such hot headed men. When you walked into the room, you found Loki laying with his legs sprawled on the couch, his eyes glued onto a book he held in one hand. His body effortlessly took up the entire couch, considering his impressive height. You were relieved, at least he hadn't stabbed anybody. At least not yet. Next to the couch, Bucky stood with his arms crossed glaring down at the seemingly peaceful god.

“What’s the problem, James?” you asked.

“Well, Sam and I were going to watch a movie.” he explained as if it were obvious. “But your little friend here is taking up the whole space, even though we reserved this spot tonight.” Bucky’s words caught Loki’s attention and he slowly raised his head from his book to look up at you. When he saw that you were who Sam retrieved to save the day, he rolled his eyes. That seemed to be common for him.

“She is not my friend.” Loki spat coldly. “And I was already here first.”

“But we already reserved the spot, I’ve told you this about six damn times.” Sam whined with aggravation in his voice. You sighed, mentally face-palming yourself at how childish Sam and Bucky were being. Though you opted to take their side because you knew you would never hear the end of it if you didn’t.

“Loki, you can always move to a different room where it might be quieter anyways.” you gently propose. You made sure to choose your words carefully in order not to agitate him. When his head shot up to look directly at you, your heart dropped to your stomach. You swallowed a lump in your throat, hoping you didn’t upset him any further.

“This room has the best lighting for my reading. I do not want a separate room.” he claimed, seemingly speaking more to Sam and Bucky rather than you. You panicked for a moment, feeling like you’ve run out of ideas. Thankfully, you were a quick thinker.

“I think I might have a better spot for you.” you quickly remarked. You held your breath as you awaited his response, hoping you sounded enticing enough to get him to leave the room with you. Much to your relief, Loki stood with a huff after planting his bookmark in his book.

“Lead the way.” he challenged in a sarcastic mood. You give a simple nod before turning to walk out the door with the God of Mischief behind you. As you walked out, you heard Bucky yell an exhausted “thank you” to which you just waved your hand in the air to dismiss him.

While walking down the hallway, you mustered up enough courage to slow your steps in order to walk beside Loki rather than in front of him.

“I’m really sorry about those two, I know they can act like they own the place sometimes.” you apologized, hoping to lighten the mood. Loki merely just shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m given a good spot to continue reading as you promised.” he replied plainly. This of course only made you second guess your pick of a location. You continued to walk with Loki until you both crossed paths with Natasha, who immediately looked curious as to what you two were doing.

“Everything alright, Y/N?” she asked, turning to face you.

“Just peachy.” you replied, forcing the smile on your face. “I’m taking Loki outside. He needs a quiet place to read.” you explained. Natasha did no further questioning and thankfully neither did Loki. He didn’t seem to have a problem with being led outside.

“You two have fun.” she spoke with a chuckle. “By the way, don’t forget we have another one of Stark’s parties to attend tomorrow night.” her reminder caused you to stop in your tracks. Stark’s parties were always flashy and extravagant, the type of thing that you felt completely turned off of as of recently.

“Of course.” you scoffed. “Thanks for telling me.”

“But do you know if… you know.” Natasha gestured towards Loki. You quickly caught onto what she was hinting at. Would Tony even allow Loki to step foot into the party? You sigh and look up at Loki who seemed confused as to what you two were talking about.

“I don’t care what Tony says. Loki shouldn’t be locked away in his room.” you declare, setting your foot down. Your statement only seemed to intrigued Loki.

“Should I be concerned?” he asked, looking to the both of you.

“Not at all!” you exclaimed quickly. “Now let’s go before it gets dark out.” you began speed walking towards the door hoping Loki would follow behind you. Thankfully, he continued to walk without any more questions. Once you both finally got out of the doors to the compound, Loki took a deep breath and looked around. It wasn’t until now you realized he probably hasn’t gotten much fresh air since arriving here. Though much to your dismay, Loki didn’t let the events with Natasha go unanswered.

“Will you tell me what you and Agent Romanoff spoke of now?” he asked, genuine curiosity laced in his voice. You decided not to protest. He deserved to know, after all. You gave yourself a moment to compose your thoughts so your explanation came out efficiently. You both continued to walk.

“Tony likes to host these huge parties from time to time to let all the Avengers have a break from their work and just have some fun with one another.” you paused, not knowing how to word the next bit. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that Tony isn’t very fond of you.”

“Of course I have.” he stated, almost in offense. “And I suppose he wants me locked away in my room as you said?”

You just simply looked at him and nodded, relieved he caught on quick. As you both continued to walk toward the hill you always painted on, you decided not to speak and allow Loki time to dwell on the situation.

“Well thank you.” he finally said. “For not wanting me to be hidden away.” he added quickly. Due to reasons you can’t explain, you blushed at Loki’s gratitude. Hearing kind words from him was refreshing. It had actually caught you off guard with how quickly he could switch from overbearing to gentle so fast.

“You’re welcome.” you replied with a warm smile. Once you two finally reached the top of the hill, you let out a sigh as you looked around. It was perfect. The two of you had the perfect view of the sunset which was glowing a beautiful orange and pink ombré. A gust of warm wind gently rushed through the air, giving you a sense of comfort. When you turned to look at Loki, you found he was also admiring the scene displayed in front of him. As you studied his face, you noticed there was just something about the way the sun hit his face that made him seem so normal. Maybe even human. When he turned to look at you, you jumped a little after being caught blatantly staring at him.

“Do you come up here often?” he questioned, taking a step towards you. To avoid any sort of eye contact, you let your head hang low to watch your feet kick at the grass lightly.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite place to come when I want to be alone.” you explained to the ground. You hoped that he wouldn’t be able to tell how nervous you were to be alone with him. Of course, he did.

“Do I frighten you, girl?” he pondered, tilting his head to the side to make an attempt to look at your face. His question made your breath hitch, though you would never let him notice. You brought your head up to look at him once more, but was startled to find that Loki was standing just a mere foot away from you. You cleared your throat quickly to reply.

“No.” you lied. You knew good and well that he intimidated you possibly more than anything else in the Avengers tower.

“You know, I wouldn’t blame you if you were.” he assured you. “I’m sure your friends have fed you all the awful stories about me.”

“I was there when it happened, so I already knew about the incident.” you informed him, hoping you didn’t come off as rude. Loki hummed in response. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, making the air feel awkward.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person though.” you spoke truthfully. You hoped to give him any sort of comfort to counteract the heaviness of the moment. Loki continued to stare at you before nodding in appreciation.

“I’m grateful.” he answered with certainty. You smile and turn back to face the sunset that has now faded to a beautiful pastel pink. Feeling a sense of self-consciousness come down upon you, you suddenly decide that you have overstayed. Even if you were technically in a place that was very much yours.

“Well if all you were looking for was a place to read, I’ll leave you be now.” you said, turning back to face Loki. What you did not expect was Loki to give you a confused look as if you weren’t supposed to leave.

“Don’t you want to watch the rest of the sunset?” he asked, waving his hand towards the sky. His recommendation made your cheeks burn up. Gods, why was he making you so flustered? You took a step back towards where you were previously next to him.

“I’d love to.” you replied sweetly. That was the first time you saw Loki, the God of Mischief smile. It was quick and simple, nothing more than a smirk. It made your heart warm up nonetheless.

~

Loki continued to tell you of the sunsets on Asgard while the two of you sat on top of the grassy hill. It soothed your mind to hear how comfortable Loki was talking to you. You sat and was a good listener to Loki, enjoying all the descriptions he gave you of his home. In return, you told him of your artwork and how you were actually a painter when you weren’t being an Avenger.

“You’d find the art on Asgard to be quite astounding then.” he said at one point. “Thor has told me much about you. He never told me you were a painter.” you raised an eyebrow at Loki’s statement.

“Thor has talked about me?” you asked with a smile. Loki paused for a moment to think, lightly groaning in frustration.

“Of course. That’s all the oaf does is talk.” Loki swore. There was a small sigh that did not go unnoticed from Loki. It soon became apparent that Loki wasn’t very adoring of talking about his brother. You quickly decided to change the subject.

“Well I can always show you some of my art work if you’d like.” you suggested. Loki remained silent, making you worrisome. You wondered if you had overstepped with recommending him some of your paintings. After a couple of seconds, Loki finally turns to connect his eyes with yours.

“I’d like that.” he assured you softly.

The two of you talked until the sun had fully vanished into the night. The both of you walked back to the tower in silence, neither of you quite knowing what to say. The moment you had walked back into the tower, you were approached by Tony who had some sort of list in his hand.

“Y/N! Just the person I wanted to see.” he announced. “Listen, I have to discuss the party with you. Um, Reindeer Games, if you don’t mind?” Tony said, rudely waving Loki away in the other direction. Loki simply glared at Tony before stomping off to wherever he decided to go next.

“You know, there’s no need to be rude.” you said to Tony quietly.

“Oh what, you two are like best buds now?” he teased. You didn’t respond, letting Tony get his laughs in. “Anyways, I wanted to ask if you’re interested in making a little bit of cash.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Tony, already having a bad feeling about where this is going.

“What do you mean?” you ask, utterly confused. Tony just smiled and unraveled the list he held in his hand, revealing a whole index full of people’s names you had no clue existed.

“I have a whole bunch of rich assholes coming tomorrow that are completely loaded. So, being the nice person I am, I thought I’d ask if you had any pieces of art that you’re willing to put prices on for these people.” you groan, listening to the proposition that was very much a Tony Stark idea.

“You want people to bid on my art?” you plainly summed up everything Tony said.

“You’ll get every penny!” he threw his hands up in mock defense. “I just need some kind of big event to get people to show up.” You rolled your eyes.

“Tony, I can’t. I’ll be busy enough making sure Loki doesn’t get into any trouble at the party.” you explained. You were hoping your words would go right over Tony’s head, but of course it didn’t. Nothing ever gets past him.

“Oh, no. Oh hell no, he’s not coming near my party! I don’t need him scaring away my guests.” Tony exclaimed. There it was. The big demand from the man himself that will forbid Loki from acting as a normal person. Or god, per say.

“Why not? He really does seem like he's changed.” you tried to persuade him, but as you expected, your pleas fell upon deaf ears.

“Don’t care.” Tony said with a matter of fact tone. “Please just do me a favor and go through some old paintings. It doesn’t have to be huge, just something that’ll make rich people feel richer.” he ordered while walking back to his lab. With that said, it seemed like you really didn’t have much of a choice. You began to walk back to your room, already thinking of a plan to allow Loki out of his room during the party. After seeing the amount of people on the guest list, you deemed it easy enough to sneak him into the party.

Third Person POV:

Loki banged on the doors to his brother’s room desperately. As he knocked, he looked around to make sure nobody would catch him pounding on the door like a madman. Once the doors finally opened, Thor’s eyes lit up to find his brother had come to visit him.

“Oh, brother! What a surprise this is!” Thor practically shouted with a smile. Loki didn’t bother with returning the enthusiasm. “Please come in.” Thor requested, opening the door wider to allow his brother entry. When Loki walked in, his nose scrunched at the mess of Thor’s room. There were clothes everywhere with several empty beer bottles scattered about. Not to mention all the various candy wrappers that decorated the floor.

“By the norns, has our mother raised a pig?” Loki ridiculed his brother in disgust. This of course didn’t phase Thor due to the fact that he’s dealt with Loki’s judgement even as children. As a matter of fact, he expected it when Loki walked in.

“Last time I checked, no.” Thor replied with a smile. “Now, what is it you need, brother?” Thor asked. Loki looked his brother in the eyes for a good moment before speaking again. Loki often did this to be sure Thor was actually listening.

“It’s about Y/N.” Loki finally admitted. “She’s so different.” Loki said almost in puzzlement.

“Whatever do you mean?” Thor asked, tilting his head to the side.

“She was unceasingly friendly to me today, without even asking anything in return.” Loki explained, confusion written on his face. “I want to repay the kindness to her.” Loki stated confidently. Thor chuckled lightly, happy to see that someone was showing his brother kindness.

“Ah yes, Y/N is a very sweet girl.” Thor confirmed happily. “Have you taken an interest in her, brother?” Thor suggested with a wink. Loki’s eyes widened in anger at Thor’s teasing and he hit his brother firmly in his broad chest.

“Of course not! That is absurd!” Loki blurted out. “I simply just want to return the favor after she was kind to me, that is all.” Loki corrected Thor.

“It is not such a far fetched idea, brother! She is a very likable woman.” Thor shamelessly stated. This made Loki think back to earlier when he told Y/N of Thor speaking of her. He recalled the way her eyes sparkled when he mentioned Thor speaking of her. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought that it was Thor that Y/N had affections towards. After all, what woman wasn’t completely head over heels for his brother? Loki rolled his eyes at the thought.

“Just tell me what I should do to repay her for being so pleasant to me.” Loki said with irritation deep in his tone.

“Stark is holding a party tomorrow night.” Thor said with a snap after a bit of contemplating. “You can ask to treat her to a drink.” Thor suggested. It seemed like the perfect idea. That was until Loki remembered your conversation with Natasha.

“I can’t.” he said simply. “Stark is prohibiting me from going to his little get together.” Loki snorted. Thor began to brainstorm ideas. He was happy that someone was finally showing warmth to his brother and he did not want anything to get in the way of it.

“Then I shall sneak you in!” Thor exclaimed with his typical mightiness. Loki rolled his eyes at his brother’s over-confidence.

“And how do you expect to do that?” Loki challenged, crossing his arms.

“I will find a way. Surely it can’t be that hard.” Thor affirmed with a beaming smile. “C’mon brother, you’re the God of Mischief! Surely something like this is right up your alley.” Thor made a good point. Loki knew it would be easy enough to fool the Midgardians. After some consideration, Loki smiled at his brother.

“What do you have in mind?”