#and I’ve been around people for the past like seven or so hours and I am absolutely beat

[skyward-floored]

So apparently following written down instructions and listening to the gps at the the same time leads to problems. especially in the dark. Especially when my dad’s elbow is blocking the god screen and me and my mom are talking and not paying attention.

On the bright side we only had to turn around three times, and one of those was because my sister had to go to the bathroom and the road we were on had like nothing

[smileysuh]

comfort cuisine

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more.

tw/cw. unprotected sex, breast worship/massaging, big dick Johnny, fingering, pussy stretching prep, 'it's finger licking good,' praise, dirty talk, masturbation, multiple reader orgasms, cumming together, creampie, soft sex, longing, fluff, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 10.8k

🍭 aus. aged up/widower dad!John, best friends to lovers, Chef!John, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I'm so happy that people loved Line Chef Mark in my fic Real Talk, I received so many messages about giving Head Chef John his own love story, and this is what I came up with in the past four months :) it's a little different from what I normally do, but I wanted to continue with that 'slice of life' theme and venture into a plot line I've never tried before with widower/single dad John :)

Prologue

“I’m so sorry about this,” Johnny’s voice distracts you from the breakfast you’re making, and you turn around from the bacon to look at your friend. “I really wish I didn’t have to keep calling you and asking for favours like this-”

“Johnny,” you shut his rambling up with a pointed expression, “stop, it’s okay.”

“It’s not-”

“John,” you repeat, “seriously, we’re good. Given… the circumstances, I honestly don’t mind.”

The circumstances… neither of you can bring yourselves to say it. You know that if you say it… if you say ‘I don’t mind helping out since the death of your wife’ Johnny will just about break down, and he doesn’t have time to do that, not when he’s got to be at work for seven am, prepping the kitchen and getting ready for the day.

Even by calling this situation a ‘circumstance,’ you can see a half glazed expression overtake Johnny’s face. He’s frozen for a moment, and you take the time to study him.

You think it’s safe to say neither of you expected any of this to happen. 

You’d met him in culinary school- he’d been a young guy, a new dad who’d had a daughter at nineteen, with dreams of opening his own sandwich food truck, ‘like Subway, but gourmet,’ he’d always explained. 

Now, he’s a twenty four year old wreck, doing his best to climb the ladder in the food service industry, mourning the loss of his late wife, struggling to take care of his daughter, his dreams of a food truck long since forgotten in favour of chasing a head chef status to earn him enough of a salary to pay for everything in a one income household-

“Seriously,” your words snap the single dad back from his zone out, “we’re good. I’m making breakfast for Soonbok, I’ve got her lunch packed, I’ll take her to kindergarten, pick her up after- you just have to remember I have a night shift, gotta be at my own restaurant by five at the latest.”

“Five, yeah,” Johnny nods, swallowing thickly and toying with his daughters small pink backpack. “One day, I’ll be higher up on the food chain, and I’ll have better hours- I promise this isn’t a forever thing.”

“It’s an ‘as long as it needs to happen’ thing, okay? Don’t sweat it,” you assure him. “Here,” you take some of the crispy bacon out of the pan, putting it onto a scrambled egg bagel you’d prepared, “you need breakfast too.”

Johnny just about melts looking at the food. “You’re so good to me.”

You offer him a smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

One

Johnny swears his age is catching up to him. It’s not even four oclock and he’s feeling tired, letting out a groan as he says goodbye to the nightshift guys and heads to change out of his head chef attire in the staff bathroom. He’d turned thirty this year, and as he looks at his face in the mirror, he thinks he’s starting to see it.

On his way out of the back door, Johnny bumps into one of his line cooks. Mark Lee is pressed to the wall where people usually lean to smoke, his girlfriend closing him in with her hands on either side of his head. Back when she was expo, everyone used to call her Sunshine, but in her dealings with Mark Lee, Johnny’s come to realize that he’s the angel, not her. 

“Aren’t you two on the clock?” Johnny jokes as he walks past.

Sunshine pulls away from Mark, offering the head chef a grin. “We’re on a vape break.”

“Sure you are,” Johnny laughs, shaking his head.  “See you two back in there, better only be five more minutes.”

“Aren’t you done for the day?” Mark asks, confusion written on his face, along with lipstick marks that he’s hurrying to wipe off.

“Grabbing happy hour with a friend, but be careful Mark Lee, I’m always watching. Just because I’m sitting at the bar doesn’t mean I’m not judging you.”

Johnny can hear Mark mutter something under his breath, and Sunshine is quick to try to calm him down, but as Johnny turns the corner to head to the front entrance of the restaurant, he hears the back door open and close, signaling the end of the little ‘vape break.’

When Johnny joins you at the bar, you’re chatting with Jeno, and the sight makes an unexplainable emotion tingle up his spine. Out of all the front of house staff here, Jeno might just be the biggest manwhore, and he’s had a thing for cougars for a while, although there’s only a handful of years difference between the two of you-

“What are you guys talking about?” John asks, taking a seat on the dark green leather hightop stools surrounding the bar.

“Which virgin drinks are the best,” you respond casually. “I was going to get an iced tea, but Jeno convinced me to try one of your new virgin lemon ginger fizzes.”

“That’s called upselling, honey, you should know that, seeing as you’re in the industry,” Johnny grins.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who invited me here, so I figured you’d be paying.” You take a sip of your straw, looking at Johnny with a smirk, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Are we getting food?” Johnny asks. “I might as well take care of that for you too.”

“I’ve got time,” you respond casually. “Don’t work for an hour, lets get our ‘nosh’ on.”

Johnny can only laugh at your antics, turning to Jeno, who’s watching with an amused grin. Everyone here knows you and Johnny are close, you come here often enough to see him, the two of you catching each other for a half an hour here or there between his day shifts and your night commitments. 

Johnny orders three appetizers off the happy hour menu, two things he knows you like, and one that’s more up his alley. “Make sure Yuta isn’t back there slacking off,” Johnny warns Jeno, knowing that two of the items will be coming from the ‘bottom end’ of the expo line, which is where Yuta runs the show after Johnny’s off.

“I’m sure he’ll pull out all the stops for our MVP,” Jeno grins, typing the order into an ipad. “Do you want a beer? We’ve got new rotators.”

“Don’t bother trying to upsell me,” Johnny scoffs. “House Lager, and don’t fuck around with the foam.”

“You run a tight ship here, captain,” you tease, bumping Johnny’s elbow.

“Speaking of-”

“Don’t try to recruit me to work here again,” you’re quick to warn.

“Damn it,” Johnny shakes his head, pretending to be quite upset about your rejection. He does feel it- he does think you’d be a great member of the team, and he’d love to offer you a dual head chef position, but it’s not in his power to do so, and that fact haunts him every day. Working for a company limits what he’s able to do, and sometimes, even at age thirty, Johnny still thinks about his dream to open a food truck, with you by his side. “No, in all seriousness, I wanted to talk to you about Soonie’s birthday.”

“Right, she’s turning eleven soon, that’s quite the milestone,” you grin, playing with your straw.

“I asked Doyoung if I could open early for her birthday, it’s a Sunday, I was thinking some of her friends and their parents could come in for a brunch an hour before we’re open for the public.”

“That’s a great idea!”

“Here’s the catch, Soonie was raised on your breakfast food. As much as I try to make things for her, and I hate to admit this, by the way, she always says your cooking is better. So I was thinking… maybe you’d want to come in that day and help me out with all of this. With your skills, I wouldn’t need Hyuck and Mark, it could be just us, and I’m sure we could make a birthday breakfast Soonbok would never forget. It would be like old times, like back when we were in culinary school.”

He loves the way you’re smiling at him, giving him space to rant. 

When he’s done, you cock your head to the side, only wasting one beat before you say, “I’ll do it.”

“Really? I don’t have to bribe you with money or anything?”

“Jeeze, have I ever asked you for money, John?” You smack at his arm, clearly slightly offended. “I’m doing this for Soonie… and maybe a little for you too.”

“Don’t go soft on me, killer,” Johnny teases. “Everyone around here’s too soft these days.”

“Says the softest dad I know,” you roll your eyes. 

“Shh,” he warns, “don’t say that loud enough for Jeno to hear.”

“As if everyone doesn’t already know.”

The two of you continue to chat and joke, a short while later, the head manager, Doyoung, shows up carrying food. It’s funny for Johnny to see Doyoung balancing two items on one arm, the third in the palm of his hand, but he supposes Doyoung started somewhere too, the same way John had. 

“VIP happy hour appetizers,” Doyoung sighs, setting the food down. 

“As opposed to regular happy hour appetizers?” you grin, immediately reaching for a fry.

“These are special,” Doyoung insists, “pretty sure Yuta spit in them.”

Doyoung is a pretty regal man, he’s not one to joke around- but for some reason, when Doyoung is in your vicinity, he loosens up a little. Everyone loosens up around you, you radiate a safe space kind of energy, the kind of energy that makes Johnny’s tense shoulders relax, his smile softening.

“Then I’ll be sure to eat all of this,” you respond. “Tell Yuta more spit.”

Doyoung shakes his head at you. “I’m sure Johnny’s tried to poach you already, but if you ever want a job, you can have his.”

“Hey!” Johnny laughs.

“I’ll consider it,” you grin.

“And I expect a plate of food for this brunch thing,” Doyoung continues. “I’ve heard nothing beats your breakfasts, even though you work nights.”

“Someone has been talking about me again,” you muse, eyes shifting to John.

“What can I say?” He holds his hands up in defense. “I speak only the truth.”

“Your reputation precedes you,” Doyoung insists. “Anyways, have fun you two, I’ve got food to run, our new expo girl isn’t filling Sunshine’s shoes too well.”

There’s a glint in Doyoung’s eye before he scurries away, and Johnny turns to watch the new expo girl practically short circuiting with take out orders on the line. 

“Poor girl,” you sigh. “It takes a certain kind of person to work in a restaurant.”

And an even more specific type to do what the two of you do as chefs.

Two

You’ve been on a few first dates this year, and this one is definitely a bottom three. You’ve had one drink, and you already feel like finding a way to slip out early. 

Initially, you’d been intrigued by dating a man in finance, but it’s clear now that you’re in two completely different worlds- and to make matters worse, he mostly talks about himself. He’s oozing this obnoxious confidence that makes you grimace every time you sip your drink, and not from the alcohol.

Your date is in the bathroom when Johnny calls.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you!” His voice warms your heart. “So Soonie is at a sleep over tonight, and I was thinking about making a Soonbok style menu for her birthday, all Soonie style names for food and such, planning a menu just for her- are you up to anything? Can I go through it with you?”

“Actually…” your gaze shifts to the bathrooms, “I’m on a date.”

“Oh.”

“It’s going so bad, and planning Soonie’s birthday would be such a better use of my evening. Listen, can you come pick me up? I’ll text you the address, you can come and call me when you’re outside, pretend it’s a family emergency or something-”

“You got it, I’ll be there right away.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re hopping into Johnny’s car, letting out a deep sigh of relief.

“That bad, huh?” he asks.

“I don’t even want to talk about it right now,” you groan. 

“Here, distract yourself,” Johnny hands you a piece of paper, and you realize it’s a mock up menu for Soonbok’s birthday. “This is just a prototype, I was messing around with styles on some fucking site called Canva-”

“I didn’t know you were good at this sort of thing,” you gasp, taking in the intricate fonts and colouring.

“The site did all the work, trust me,” Johnny scoffs, pulling out into traffic. “Read it over and let me know what you think.”

You begin to scan the menu. There’s Soonie Side Up Eggs, and Boken Avocado Bennies, Soonbok Style Slapjacks and Suh Family Breakfast Sammies. 

“I’m shocked you came up with this many names related to Soonie and Suh,” you say.

“I spent my entire shift thinking about them in the back of my mind while I worked,” Johnny admits. “They’re not cheesy or anything, right?”

“They’re definitely cheesy,” you confirm, “but Soonie is going to love them. You’ve always been cheesy, John, and she adores you for it.”

You notice Johnny’s skin turning a little red, and it’s not just from the reflection of the traffic light illuminating the inside of his car while you wait for it to go green. 

You continue to study the menu, thinking hard the entire way back to Johnny’s house.

He’s got a modest three bedroom townhouse, with his and Soonbok’s rooms on the top floor, and the guest bedroom on the main floor with the kitchen and living room. The kitchen is, without a doubt, the heart of the home, and the two of you make your way there as soon as you’re past the threshold.

“I have some thoughts,” you admit, setting the menu down and pointing at one of the items. “Soonbok toast,” you announce, a twist on french toast, “it says here that it comes with a berry compote. I can tell that this is one of the dishes more geared toward others, because if this was really for Soonie, you’d know that your daughter doesn't even touch berry or apple crisps. She picks at the oat brown sugar on top, but doesn’t like cooked berries or fruits.”

“Yeah…” Johnny leans next to you, scratching the back of his neck. “That was the only one I wasn’t sure on, but for brunch, you have to have a french toast option, right?”

“We can still do french toast, but I think every menu item should be something she’d actually love, don’t you agree?”

“A hundred percent.” 

“What if, instead of berry compote, we do an brown sugar glaze type sauce?”

“That could be doable,” Johnny admits. “Should we try to make one now?”

“Can we do it in the morning?” you ask. “Honestly, I had one drink at the bar, I’m tired after a long shift, and I’m ready to have a few more drinks then pass out.”

“Drinks are a good idea,” Johnny grins, already heading to the fridge. “It will give me more time to think about how to make the brown sugar glaze, and I’ll get on top of that in the morning.”

“Exactly. Chef hours are over, we can just relax,” you insist, heading to collapse on his couch.

“Chef hours are never over,” Johnny reminds you, cracking open a beer and approaching so he can hand it to you.

“It’s one of the reasons dating is so hard in our profession,” you sigh, taking a swig of your drink.

“The hours make it tough,” Johnny nods. 

“So does the mentality,” you remind him. “We just… we think a little differently than others. We’re all a little too committed to our work.”

“That’s not always a bad thing, you’ve just gotta find someone you’re compatible with, someone who will appreciate that about you.” 

“Says one single chef to the other,” you laugh.

Johnny clinks his bottle against your own before taking a large gulp. “Touche.”

Three

Johnny is doing his best to work quietly, aware that the guest bedroom is just a short distance from the kitchen as he whips up eggs for the french toast batter. 

He manages to get all the way through to the cooking before you sleepily putter into the kitchen, adorned in one of his spare shirts for when you sleep over unexpectedly. You look adorable, but Johnny can’t bring himself to focus on you as he perfects the brown sugar glaze, careful not to burn it.

“Almost done,” he calls over his shoulder, “take a seat then try this with me?”

“It smells good,” you tell him, pulling out a chair at the island kitchen counter. 

“Thanks, honey, I was up last night thinking about it- had to wake up early to try it out.” He lifts the french toast onto a plate, dipping a spoon into the glaze to coat the breakfast. “I hope I didn’t wake you up?”

“The smell did,” you muse, grinning as he brings the french toast toward you, setting it down and opening a drawer to retrieve two sets of utensils.

The two of you cut into the toast, and you lift your fork. “Cheers,” you grin, and Johnny touches his food to your own before you both go in for a bite. 

The french toast is cooked to perfection, and although the brown sugar glaze is a little sweet for his liking, Johnny knows Soonie’s sweettooth will appreciate this adjustment to the recipe.

But when Johnny lifts his gaze to you, he sees apprehension in your eyes. “Did you like it?” he enquires.

“It’s really good, don’t get me wrong,” you assure him quickly, “I just think… maybe it’s missing one or two things.”

“Like what?”

“Mmm…” you cock your head to the side, “we both know Soonbok is a fan of nuts, peanut butter is her usual go to but she likes others too- what if we finely chop some pecan or walnut and add that in somehow?”

“That could work,” Johnny nods. 

“Do you mind if I take a crack at it?” you ask. 

Johnny laughs. There are very few people he’ll allow to use his kitchen, and luckily you’re the one at the top. You’ve been cooking here for so many years that he doesn’t have to guide you to anything, you stand up and immediately go in search of details to make your french toast masterpiece come to life, and Johnny happily takes a back seat while he finishes his own creation.

You go for a bag of pecans, dumping a small amount onto a cutting board before you begin to finally chop, leaving an array of different sizes of chunks. Soonie has always been a texture specific child, and Johnny loves how you incorporate all the little quirks of his daughter into your cooking like this.

In a pan with some butter, you begin to toast the nuts, getting prepped on your bread by using the already made batter he’d created earlier. As you put the toast into the pan and check the nuts, you cock your head to the side again, an endearing trait you do when you’re thinking.

“What about oats?” you suggest. 

“Do whatever you think is best,” Johnny encourages you, heading to the fridge to grab some orange juice and a nearly empty bottle of prosecco he’d opened for a recipe two nights ago.

Johnny watches you add oats to the browning pecans while he makes mimosas, and in no time at all, you’re plating the french toast, with a spoonful of the newly toasted additions, and a few spoonfuls of brown sugar glaze.

“There,” you announce, bringing the food to the table. “I added a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar to the buttered nuts and oats while you were making drinks.”

“Cheers,” Johnny grins, lifting a forkful of your creation to gently touch it to your own.

As soon as he bites into it, Johnny knows that this is a winner. The crunch of the nuts, and the oats- the added fats of the butter- the slight taste of cinnamon on the toppings- 

“Wow,” he breathes, leaning back in his chair. “Soonie really wasn’t joking when she said you’re the best breakfast chef in town.”

“Stop it,” you laugh. “You made the glaze! We did this together!”

Johnny goes for a second bite. “This is the stuff that will stick to your ribs,” he muses, not caring that the calorie content was just inflated by the addition of butter and nuts, “Good ol’ comfort food.”

“No, John, you’re a head chef now, this is comfort cuisine,” you correct him with a grin. 

Johnny swears your eyes are sparkling as you smile at him, and it makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. It’s times like these that he realizes just how smitten he is with you. You’ve been there for him, through thick and thin. There’s no way he’d be where he is now without you, and he’s not even sure if you know the full extent of it.

But at the same time, because you’re his rock, Johnny doesn’t want to overstep. He can’t lose you, not now, not ever. Soonie lost her mom to a car crash when she was three, and there’s no way in hell Johnny’s going to do something that could potentially make her lose you too.

Four

“Hey, you,” you grin, finishing pouring your glass of wine while you put your favourite chef on speaker.

“Hey, yourself,” Johnny responds, and you can practically hear the smile in his own voice. “Listen, uh, I need to ask you for a favour.”

“Shoot.”

“Two of my line chefs called in today before dinner- pretty sure they’re both hungover or something. Anyways, I’m staying, and it’s a busier night than projected- Soonie is done Girl Guides at seven, and I know it’s your night off, so if you’re busy I can find someone else, but-”

“I’ve got you,” you interrupt him. “Girls night with my favourite girl is a better plan than I had.”

“Really? You sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

“I’d say I owe you one, but at this point, I probably owe you more like a thousand.”

“And don’t you forget it,” you laugh, pouring your wine back into the bottle. “Take care of work, and I’ll take care of our girl.”

A couple hours later, you’re in Johnny’s familiar kitchen, making spiced popcorn and virgin cocktails. Soonie wants to be a chef, just like her dad, and she’s getting better every day. You love giving her soft instructions and lending a helping hand on bigger jugs of juice that her tiny fingers can’t quite hold.

Soonbok has a love for all things disney and music, and although this is probably the third time you’re watching it with her, the two of you settle in for the live action Ariel.

While Johnny is primarily a chef, back when you were in culinary school, he used to sing to himself when he was working. He was always quiet, but loud enough for you to listen to his beautiful voice. Like her father, Soonbok has a way with music, and you adore watching the eleven year old belt out Ariel songs.

She’s tuckered out from Girl Guides however, and about halfway into the movie she cuddles up next to you, her eyelids beginning to droop.

When Johnny comes home as the film is ending, Soonie is fast asleep, and you quickly motion at him to be quiet as he steps through the door.

Johnny is careful as he sets his keys and bag down, kicking off his shoes and putting away his jacket. He tiptoes toward the two of you. “How long has she been out?” he whispers.

“Half an hour or so,” you respond in a hushed tone. “How was work?”

He lets out a sigh. “Could have been better, but I’m home now. Should I get this little one to bed?”

You nod, watching the way Johnny bends down to gently lift his daughter off the couch. She stirs in his arms. “Daddy?”

“Hi, Soonie,” he beams down at her. “Did you have a good girls night?”

“Can y/n stay longer?”

Johnny’s eyes shift to you, and a smile forms on your lips. “I guess I can’t say no to Soonie, can I?”

“Here’s the deal, Soonie, y/n can stay longer, but I’ve gotta put you to bed. You had a long day, didn’t you, sweet girl?”

“Uh huh.” Soonie yawns, cuddling closer to Johnny’s chest, and the sight makes you melt.

Johnny carries her out of the living room and up to the second level. He takes some time tucking her in, and then he comes back down to join you, holding two beers in his hands. 

“So two line chefs called in, huh?” you prompt, tucking your legs up and making room for the large man on the sofa.

“I expected it from Haechan, but Mark’s generally pretty reliable. His girlfriend was on shift today, so I know he wasn’t skipping to be with her- I’m guessing they got pretty messed up last night.”

“They’re young,” you point out, accepting a beer from him. “We used to be young.”

“Used to be,” Johnny laughs, taking a swig of his drink. 

Looking at this man- this father, you realize maybe he never really got the chance to be young. At twenty five, he had a six year old, he wasn't running around blacking out and getting hung over, he was working his way up the employment ladder, dreaming about a better future for his daughter.

“You mentioned Mark has a girlfriend, I think I’ve heard about her a few times now, it’s interesting that she was in and he wasn’t.”

“I’m going to be honest, I love Mark, he’s a great kid- but, he can sometimes be peer pressured into things. Haechan has a hold on Mark unlike any I’ve seen, they bring out… interesting sides of each other.”

You laugh at the description, and it’s clear there’s more on Johnny’s mind, so you wait for him to continue. 

“It’s nice that Mark is young and in love, I can understand that- but at the same time, I just hope he doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. Not that Soonbok is a mistake, of course- I just mean that… life is fragile. You think you’re going to be with someone forever, and then you’re reminded of how frail things can be.”

You frown at his words. Even after all of these years, Johnny still holds so much pain about his lost wife. You want to do your best to help Johnny in every aspect of his life, especially emotional, but this is a topic you never know how to approach. He’s right for grieving, his ex was his first love, his true love- how is there anything you could ever say to make him feel better about her passing?

You open your mouth, only to close it, and Johnny watches you intently. Sometimes he looks at you, the way he’s looking at you right now, and you wonder if he feels the same level of connection with you that you feel with him. You wonder if he wants you to kiss him, if a kiss would make him feel better, if it would - if even for a moment - help him forget about the pains he’s faced in his life.

But it’s because of the pains he’s faced that neither of you can close the distance, you’d like to think about it that way at least. Even after all these years, it’s still too early, so you simply reach out and gently squeeze his hand.

Johnny offers you a smile, and you’re glad that in some small way, maybe you’ve helped him.

Five

It’s a pretty slow day after the lunch rush, so Johnny is sitting in the back office with Doyoung while they pick at their food. They often eat together once things settle down, and today is no different. 

What is different, however, is the topic of conversation Doyoung brings up. “How’s y/n doing?” he asks, taking a bite of his salad.

“She’s good. She helped me lock in a french toast recipe for Soonie’s birthday, so that was pretty helpful.”

“That’s nice,” Doyoung nods, “but I’m more interested in what’s going on between the two of you.”

“What do you mean?” Johnny asks, looking up from his schezwan beef noodle bowl. 

“I mean, you two have been friends for a long time. There’s a lot of history there.”

Johnny’s shocked that Doyoung is bringing this up. Out of all of the chef’s coworkers, he had not pegged Doyoung as being the man to bring up relationship gossip, and the whole thing takes him off guard for a moment. 

“We’re good friends,” Johnny says finally.

“I know that,” Doyoung rolls his eyes. “What’s holding you back from being more? It’s clear how much you two care about each other.”

Johnny looks down at his food, using his chopsticks to play around with a red pepper. “We do care about each other,” he confirms. “She was there for me with Soonie when no one else was, and I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“So why don’t you tell her how you really feel about her?” Doyoung presses. “It’s obvious in the way you look at each other- a smart woman like y/n, I’m shocked she hasn’t figured it out for herself by now.”

“I think, because of our history, there’s this… invisible line,” Johnny tries to explain. “Things are good the way they are now, if I try to mess with that… I could lose everything. And I wouldn’t just be losing it for myself, I’d be losing it for Soonie too.”

Doyoung lets out a breath, turning to face Johnny. “I get that it’s hard, but, you’ve got two paths ahead of you. If you give it a try, it could either end well, or badly. But if you keep yourself in this weird middle friend zone place, it’s like you’ve created a house at the crossroads, and that will never lead you anywhere.”

“When did you become so wise about love?” Johnny scoffs.

“Sumi has helped me with it,” Doyoung admits. “I met her here, we started off as friends. I’m her manager, so I had my own reasons for never taking the leap. I had my own house at the crossroads.”

“What made you finally give it a try?”

“She was there for me when my dad died,” Doyoung frowns. “Anyone can be there for you when things go badly, but when a woman truly gives her all to making things easier on you- it’s not something that should be ignored. After everything you and y/n have been through, you both deserve to give it a try.”

“How are you so sure she’d want to give it a try?”

“Because she looks at you the way you look at her.”

Six

Cooking with Johnny might just be the easiest thing in the world. You’d thought that, due to it being Soonie’s birthday, maybe tensions would be high, but as the two of you collaborate in the kitchen, bumping hips and easily communicating, things feel as they always have: easy. 

Within fifteen minutes, the two of you have seamlessly cooked thirteen breakfasts for yourselves, Soonie, her four friends, and six adults… well, seven, if you include the Boken Avocado Bennies you’d whipped up for Doyoung.

While there are a number of staff puttering around doing pre-opening tasks, it’s Doyoung who takes the time to help you and Johnny bring all the food to the table. You love watching the stoic manager announce the Soonie-inspired brunch food names, and it’s clear that Soonbok is also enamoured by the shift in Doyoung’s countenance. 

Before everyone begins to eat, you take a group picture on Johnny’s phone, loving the massive smile on Soonie’s face.

As you’re about to sit down, Johnny asks one of the other moms to take a picture of just you, him and Soonie. With the two of you on either side of the birthday girl, you can’t help but think that this feels like a family picture. 

In a way, Johnny and Soonie are your family- but in the same breath, you’re cognisant of the fact that - had circumstances been different - it would be Soonbok’s mom in this picture right now, and not you. These are shoes that can simply never be filled, no matter how much you wish you could.

The thought isn’t one you like to hold on to, and it’s a thought that’s popped into your head innumerable times throughout the years. Taking your seat next to the birthday girl, you watch her try the french toast, her eyes lighting up.

On top of her own food, Soonie picks at yours and Johnny’s. Both of you are more than happy to share so she can taste more than just one of the special items Johnny had concocted for her. 

Brunch is full of laughter and girlish giggles that light up the deserted restaurant. It’s clear how important Johnny has made Soonie feel today, and that brings you more joy than you could ever express out loud. 

As things wind down, you and Johnny begin clearing plates to the dishpit. The two of you are shoulder to shoulder, and you’re overwhelmed by an odd sense of longing that you can’t quite describe.

Johnny turns to you, mouth opening as if he’s about to say something- but as servers pass behind you, it’s clear that there’s no room for him to say whatever it is that he wanted to say to you.

You clear your throat, watching a line chef pop up next to Johnny to stack the dishes for dishwasher prep. “You should go back to Soonie,” you tell him, “I’ll finish up with the cleanup.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Of course, it’s Soonie’s day, go be with her.” You offer him a smile, and Johnny reacts by reaching out to squeeze your hand.

Without another word, he leaves you to your thoughts, and the feeling of need that’s growing steadier and steadier in your chest.

Seven

Johnny doesn’t know quite what to do with himself. Soonie’s birthday was yesterday, and today's day shift had been quite slow. He’s feeling restless with Soonie over at a friend’s place tonight, and he tries to drown himself in liquor- whether it be to chase away the loneliness or to gain courage, he’s not sure, but by nine oclock, Johnny finds himself dialing up your number.

“Hey, you,” you answer.

“Hey, yourself,” he grins. “Watcha up to?”

There’s a pause, and Johnny can hear people in the background. “I’m out actually.”

“Oh?” Johnny’s spirits dampen. “Out on another hot date?”

“Not so hot actually.”

Johnny bites at his lip. “I’ll let you go anyways.”

“It’s alright, I stepped out when you called. Do you need something?”

“I guess…” Johnny takes a breath. “I got into the liquor-”

“Say no more, I’ll be right over.”

Eight

“So…” Johnny grins as the two of you head into his kitchen, “how did the date go?”

You scoff, watching him pour a glass of wine. “How do you think it went? I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

“I mean… I am pretty hard to compete with,” Johnny flashes you a sexy grin… and proceeds to knock over the glass of wine. “Shit- fuck!”

“Listen, you go take a seat, and I’ll clean this up,” you laugh, watching him lumber toward the sofa. You make quick work of the mess, and when you’re done, you approach him in the living room.

“Come sit,” he prompts, patting the spot right next to him.

“Someone’s feeling awfully cuddly today,” you giggle when he grabs your hand to pull you down where he wants you, leaving no space between the two of you.

“What can I say? I’m a cuddly drunk.” 

“I can see that,” you note, assessing him.

His gaze dips to your lips, and your skin tingles. 

“Thank you for yesterday,” he says quietly.

“I told you, I was happy to help for Soonie’s special day.”

“It’s not just that,” he insists, “you’re always happy to help. I seriously-” he swallows thickly, “I seriously couldn’t have done anything I’ve done without you.”

“Don’t be so self deprecating,” you warn him, gently pushing his shoulder. “You’d have gotten anywhere you wanted, with or without me.”

“I still don’t have a food truck,” Johnny pouts.

You’d thought maybe he’d given up on that dream- although you’ve held onto hope for Johnny, more than he knows. “Now that you mention it, actually,” you say, pulling out your phone, “I’ve been looking at food trucks for sale online for a minute, and-”

Johnny’s gaze softens. “You’ve been researching for me?”

“Just a little,” you brush it off, trying to find the listing that you’d saved three days ago. “I found this decent looking one at a good price-”

“I think I love you.”

“Huh?” you freeze.

“I didn’t mean it,” Johnny says immediately, and your heart sinks. “I don’t think I love you, I know I do.”

“John, please, that’s the liquor talking.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts,” he insists. “Look, you’ve always been there for me. We work together- and not just because we’re both chefs. Something about this,” Johnny gestures between the two of you, “it just works, and I know I’m not the only one who sees it.”

“Yeah?” You decide to play a little coy, seeing as this confession is coming from a drunk man. “And who else sees it?”

“Doyoung, for one.”

“Doyoung?” You let out a laugh. “Have you been gossiping about me with him?”

“I swear I didn’t bring it up,” Johnny defends himself. “Doyoung said I look at you with love, and that… that you look at me the same way.”

“Well… maybe Doyoung needs to get his eyes checked?”

“Don’t play with me,” Johnny begs, pulling you closer. “There’s always been a line between us, one we’ve both been too scared to cross… but, I think-”

“Now you’re crossing it,” you finish for him. “What made you want to do that?”

“Soonie’s birthday,” Johnny admits. “Our little family picture.”

“Our family picture,” you repeat, melting inside at the fact that he’d viewed the photo in the same light you had.

“Yeah.” Johnny nods. “Our family. Mine, and yours.” 

His hand finds your thigh, and you can’t help but reach out to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb across his angular bones. “I’m not sure what to say,” you admit.

“We don’t have to say anything,” Johnny assures you. “Just kiss me, and we can forget about the world for a minute.”

Your heart is racing in your chest as you hesitantly close the distance between your lips. It’s a gentle first kiss, but it soon grows hungry, and you’re not sure if that’s due to his appetite or your own.

His tongue swipes across your lip, and you open your mouth for him, letting out a soft sigh as you get lost in the feeling of the man who’s been your best friend for years.

His hand on your thigh squeezes, and before you know it, he’s pulling you onto his lap. Your knees dig into the sofa on either side of him, and you’re hesitant to fully sit down- a kiss is a kiss, but grinding on Johnny is something else entirely.

“Johnny,” you whisper, throwing your head back to look at the ceiling, wondering how you got into this situation.

“Yes, honey?” He presses kisses along your throat that have tingles shooting up your spine.

“You’re drunk,” you say finally.

“If I’d known you liked me too, I would have done this ages ago.”

“It’s not about that,” you laugh. “It’s about the fact that you’re drunk, and I want you sober when we do this.”

“Do what?” he teases, squeezing your hips, his tongue grazing over your jugular.

“You know what,” you retort with a huff. “Look, you’re right about the line neither of us wanted to cross.”

Johnny pulls away from your throat, looking up at you. “Huh?”

“The line. The unspoken line. All these years, something has been there, between us- but, we both respect your wife, we respect Soonie- I think… I think the time is right for this now, well, not right now, but, once you’re sober again.”

“You’re right,” Johnny concedes. 

“How about we watch a movie, then we can go to sleep.”

“You’ll stay over?” There’s a boyish excitement in his voice and it makes you melt.

“Uh huh.”

“Will you stay in my bed with me?”

“Just for cuddles, but only if you promise to drink a bunch of water before we sleep, I don’t want you hung over in the morning.”

Johnny grins. “You got it, honey.”

Nine

Johnny wakes up next to a warm body, and it’s the first time in years. Your presence is the only thing that proves to him that last night wasn’t a dream, some twisted fantasy- No, you’re real, and you’re here, and you’d kissed him back-

He stays cuddled with you for a while, basking in the glow of being in love, truly in love, and finally able to admit it to himself. It’s been so long since his wife, and part of him had forgotten the feeling- maybe that’s why it had taken years for him to realize how much he adores you.

After a while, Johnny decides he needs some water- and he wants to make breakfast for you. He wants to spoil you the way you spoil him.

Johnny is careful as he exits the bed, taking one last look at your peaceful face before heading down to the kitchen.

It’s easy for Johnny to get lost in the act of cooking, focusing on bacon at first before switching to eggs. As it was a few days ago, the smell of food wakes you up, and soon you’re joining him by the stove.

“Watcha making?” you ask, wrapping your body around his.

God, the feeling of you is- fuck, he can’t even describe how good it is.

“Wanted to make you breakfast,” he tells you, plating your food first. Once he has you settled and sitting, he quickly throws together a breakfast sandwich for himself.

“You and your sandwiches,” you laugh, digging into your bacon and eggs.

“How did you sleep?” he asks, coming to join you.

“So well,” you tell him, bumping your knee against his own, “even if someone snores.” 

Johnny can only laugh, he’s dealt with Soonbok complaining about his loud snoring for years. “How are the eggs?”

“Good!” 

You’re so chipper this morning, and he loves it. Johnny takes a bite of his sandwich- you’d cooked the eggs at the brunch birthday two days ago, and he realizes Soonie was right. “Your eggs are better,” he muses.  

“I’d planned on making breakfast for you, but you jumped the gun, big guy.”

“I wanted to pamper you for a change.”

“Cooking is my love language,” you tell him. “I’m excited to make you breakfast more often.”

“I like the sound of that,” he smiles.

“When’s Soonie come home?”

Johnny checks the clock on the stove. “In an hour or so.”

“As much as I’d love to see her, I think maybe it’s better if I’m not here when she gets home,” you say thoughtfully. “She’s a smart girl, I bet she’d be able to tell that something is up.”

“She definitely would,” Johnny confirms. “I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my hands off of you that much if you stick around.”

You giggle, reaching over to squeeze his knee.

“How are you feeling about last night?” Johnny asks.

“I’m feeling good, how about you? Still remember all of it?”

“In perfect detail,” he breathes. “Although… a little reminder wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” you tease as he leans in, cupping your face so he can press his lips to your own. 

God, you’re such a good kisser. It just works. It’s hard for him to even pull away, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm you.

“Take me out on a date,” you say.

“Hmm?”

“A date,” you repeat. “Just because we’ve known each other for years doesn’t mean we can skip steps.”

“I respect that,” Johnny nods. “I’ve got a busy week, and it will have to be a night where Soonie is out, but… we’ll make it work.”

Johnny’s so certain it will work, because things between you have always worked, and he can’t wait to see where this takes you. 

Ten

It’s been a week, but finally Johnny found time for that date night. Soonie is out with friends again, so it’s the perfect opportunity to get some alone time with the man who’s been on your mind constantly.

He picks you up in his old Dodge truck, compliments your outfit, and refuses to tell you where you’re going or what the plan is.

When you arrive back at his place, you’re honestly not even surprised. “Let me guess, you took me to the best chef in town?”

“You know all my lines, honey,” he grins. 

“So, chef, what’s on the menu?”

“I thought maybe you’d take a seat and let me cook for you.”

“As if I’d take a back seat,” you scoff. “What are we making?”

Johnny had made hand made fettucini before he’d come to pick you up. You let him take lead in making a white wine, garlic cream sauce with button mushrooms, spinach and crispy prosciutto, but you insist on being his sous chef and taking care of the chicken.

The smell is heavenly, and as he finishes it all off with fresh herbs, you think you start to drool a little.

“For a guy who claims to specialize in sandwiches of all things, you’re pretty good with italian,” you muse as you take your first bite and nearly moan.

“I’m pretty good with a lot of things,” Johnny laughs. 

“Look at you being all cocky.”

“You love it.”

He’s so right.

The two of you chat and laugh together while eating. It’s one of the best meals you’ve had in a very long time. When dinner is over, Johnny suggests a movie. As the two of you settle on the couch, he prompts you to come closer, and soon, the two of you are cuddled together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He’s so warm and comforting- you find yourself dozing off a little, although, maybe it’s something of a food coma from all the pasta.

Johnny brings his lips to your ear, and you shiver when he asks, “Should I carry you to bed, honey?” 

Part of you wants to tell him you’re not Soonie and you won’t be calling him daddy any time soon- but another part of you wants to lean into this. It’s been so long since you felt like you could be babied, and if anyone is going to bring out that side of you, it’s going to be Johnny.

“Won’t I be too heavy?” you ask, cognizant of the stairs he’ll have to climb.

“Have you seen my arms? I won’t drop you, honey, I promise.”

You allow him to scoop you up, and you feel like a giggling school girl again as he takes you up to his room. “Do you have a shirt I could wear to sleep?” 

“Choose anything,” he tells you. “When you’re changed, you can join me in the bathroom, I went and got a toothbrush for you.”

Before you know it, you’re cuddled in Johnny’s bed, wearing panties and one of his big shirts. He’s pressed to your back, his mint tinged breath warm on the nape of your neck. There’s no pressure for sex, no pressure for anything other than the situation at hand, and you can tell you’re both very content with it. 

Soon, you’re drifting off to sleep in the arms of a man who’s been a cornerstone of your life.

It’s a deep, dreamless sleep, and it passes in the blink of an eye. You awaken to light beaming through his window, a warm body behind you, and something hard pressed against your ass.

You laugh to yourself- morning wood isn’t something men can help. Even so, you stir a little, adjusting to get more comfortable.

Johnny releases a sleepy groan.

You stay still, not wanting to wake him, but it feels like the damage is already done when he wraps you tighter in his embrace. “Morning,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Hi,” you respond lightly.

Now it’s Johnny’s turn to shift, and you feel his body tense when he does so. “Fuck,” he goes to pull away, “sorry, I uh-”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, grabbing his forearm so he can’t move away, “keep cuddling me.”

Johnny returns, flush against your back, his hard cock pressing even more firmly to your ass.

“Are you sure you’re alright with this?” he asks.

“More than okay with it.”

“Yeah?” He leans forward, pressing his lips to your throat. “Are you okay with this, too?” Johnny mumbles, his hot breath fanning across your skin.

“Uh huh,” you sigh, wiggling your bum back against him and arching your neck to give him better access.

His hand finds your hip, gently squeezing you through the shirt you’re wearing. His lips are soft against you, but there’s a need in his motions too, and he begins to grind against your ass.

You let out a groan when he finds the sweet spot just below your ear, and he licks at it, making you moan louder.

“Are we going to do this?” he asks, nipping at your earlobe.

“Fuck it, yes.” You can’t hold back anymore, you turn in his embrace, quickly mounting him and smashing your lips to his own.

Johnny grins into the kiss, holding your hips while you settle on top of him, grinding down against his clothed cock while your tongues begin to clash.

His kisses have you seeing stars, your mind going blank except for him.

Soon, his hands slip under your shirt, slowly grazing up your sides. “Can I take this off of you?” he asks.

You open your eyes to look down at him, studying his pretty lips and his chocolate eyes. 

Instead of responding, you sit up, grabbing the hem of the oversized T and lifting it over your head, tossing it to the side and baring yourself to your best friend for the first time.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, gaze falling to your tits. His hands stay at a respectable location on your hips, and you grab one to lift it to your breast, adding pressure so he knows he’s allowed to give you a test squeeze.

Johnny begins to massage you, and you throw your head back, releasing a groan, swiveling your hips against him.

His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple and you mewl loudly, core throbbing from the stimulus.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, propping himself up so he can take your nipple into his mouth.

You cup the back of his head, keeping him on your chest while he worships you. His other hand finds your neglected breast, gently pinching and massaging while he sucks on your sensitive bud.

“John-” You don’t even know what to say, you’re entirely wrapped up in him. 

You’ve never felt a feral need like this before, but it’s not necessarily the primal type of drive. Instead, it’s a feeling of wanting to be close to this man- who you’ve been next to for so many years, but unable to touch. 

Except, he’s touching you now, and you want more. 

Johnny pulls away from your breasts, cupping the back of your head and drawing your lips to his again. “We should take our clothes off,” he suggests.

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all week,” you laugh. 

He helps you off of him, and you lay next to each other for a moment, both fumbling to get naked. As soon as you’re fully nude, Johnny rolls on top of you, slotting between your thighs. His lips find yours again, and his free hand trails down your body, teasing through your pussy lips.

“You’re already so wet,” he muses.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time,” you admit.

“Me too,” he assures you, capturing your mouth with his own while he teases a finger into your hole. You push your hips up, wanting more, and you latch onto his strong shoulders, moaning into the kiss.

Johnny’s a big man, and his finger is enough to have you wriggling below him. “Easy, honey,” he grins, looking down at you with eyes full of adoration. “Gotta stretch you open.”

“Fuck,” you groan- does this man read erotica in his spare time? How is a thirty year old, single dad, this well versed in dirty talk even though you’re pretty sure he hasn’t been laid in forever?

He adds a second finger, curling them to find your gspot. As he pumps his hand, lips pressed to yours in a mad frenzy, you can hear your wetness with each motion. 

It feels unreal- have fingers alone ever done a number like this on you?

Johnny twists his hand a little, knuckles dragging along your sensitive inner walls. It’s like he’s trying to carve out a space for his cock, although, you know now that this won’t be enough. He’s thick and throbbing on your hip, his length so large you think he might just blow your entire back out when he slips it into you.

Even though you’re eager to be - for lack of a better word - impaled on him, Johnny takes his time kissing you, his fingers continuing their motions. “Wanna rub your clit for me?” he asks, moving his mouth to your neck. “I want to watch you cum.”

Your toes curl at his words, and you bring your hand to your pussy, drawing circles on the sensitive bud while he continues to stroke your inner walls.

Your core throbs around him, whimpers of pleasure escaping you. 

“You’re being so good for me, honey,” Johnny tells you, making your insides flutter even more from the sincere words of praise.

Cumming hasn’t always been the easiest thing in the world for you. There are many partners you’ve had who never had the wherewithal to get you there- but somehow, Johnny just knows you. Or maybe, it’s because he knows you- because you feel safe with him, that you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

It also helps that it’s your own fingers on your clit, you know exactly what you like, what pressure, what motions- the digits working you open are just an added bonus that have you seeing stars as you make your way to your peak.

“John,” you gasp, tits pushing up toward his chest when your back arches. “I’m gonna-”

“Let it out for me,” he encourages you softly. “You deserve it.”

“I deserve your cock,” you whine, shocked at your own blatant neediness.

Johnny only laughs. “After,” he assures you, “I promise.”

A few more circles of your clit has the cord in your stomach snapping, your orgasm washing over your like warm summer waves. Your entire body tingles with delight, gasps leaving you as your pussy fully throbs around his fingers, your clit pulsing with desire.

“So pretty,” he whispers, bringing his lips to yours.

From the way he smiles against your mouth, you can tell he doesn’t care that you’re moaning so much he can hardly kiss you.

It’s a closeness you’ve never felt before, and he helps you through your orgasm until you’re pulling your hand away in favour of grabbing his shoulders.

Johnny takes his fingers out of your core, and you watch under hooded eyelids as he brings them to his lips, sucking them clean and releasing a groan. “Everything you do tastes better than what I bring to the table.”

You laugh. He’s such a fucking chef.

“Some might even say it’s…” you stifle a giggle, “Finger licking good.” 

Johnny lets out a laugh, eyes lighting up. God, you love this soft, laughter infused sex- you’ve never experienced anything like it.

You grab the back of his neck, drawing his mouth to your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and there’s something so erotic about it. He moans loudly, rubbing his cock between your wet pussy lips.

The tip of his cock is stimulating your clit and it sends jitters through you. You can feel how soaked you are, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this ended with a wet patch on his bed from how turned on you’ve been throughout this whole experience.

Johnny seems intent with grinding against you, but you’re lacking patience today, and you reach between your bodies to grab his cock.

Johnny breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours and looking down at where you’re gripping him. He doesn’t say anything, his gaze shifting back to your own. There’s a question in his eyes, and you’re both aware that this is the final line. Once you cross this, there’s no going back.

You bring his cock to your wet hole, and with very little effort, you help guide the head of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Johnny groans immediately, fists bunching at the pillow on either side of your head. “You’re so tight- are you sure you’re good with this?”

“You’re just- fuck,” you whimper as another inch sinks into you, “you’re just big!”

“Maybe you’ll have to get used to it,” he grins, pushing deeper.

You moan loudly, clawing at his shoulders. “Maybe I will,” you gasp. 

He brings his mouth close to your own, until your lips are just brushing, eyes meeting when he says, “I’m looking forward to it.”

As he kisses you, he pushes fully into your warm, wet, throbbing core. His hips are flush to your own, and you swear no one’s ever been this deep inside of you.

Your legs shake on either side of his hips, body suspended in this odd purgatory-like place between extreme pleasure, and an uncomfortable feeling of being stretched more than you’ve ever been stretched before.

“Are you good?” he asks, lips moving to your cheek while you struggle to aclimatize to his cock.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly. “Just- fuck me, it will be easier.”

“If you say so, honey.”

The first thrust has your toes curling, eyes clenching shut with pleasure. A sound that’s never come from you before leaves your lips- a sound you’ve heard in porn, but always thought was an overexpression.

Your fingers dig into Johnny’s shoulders, and he holds you close, mouth finding your neck while he begins to fuck you.

Although, would this be called fucking?

The fluidity of his motions- the way you’re clinging to each other- it feels more like making love, and your skin tingles with the realization.

“Johnny?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me you love me again, like you did when you were drunk.”

“I love you,” he says immediately, holding you even tighter. “I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.”

Your entire body both relaxes and is set on fire by his words, your core throbbing desperately around his massive cock. 

“Johnny-” you whimper.

“Tell me you love me too,” he pleads.

“I love you too,” you whisper, threading your fingers through his hair and bringing his face close to yours so you can look up into his eyes. “I love you too.” 

Johnny’s hand finds your thigh, hiking it higher on his hip. Somehow, he hits even deeper now, and you wriggle below him, more sounds of pleasure escaping you and filling the room.

“You sound so good, honey- I won’t last if you keep squeezing me and moaning-”

“Then don’t last,” you gasp. “Want you to cum.”

“Where should I cum?”

“Inside- I’m on birth control, just- fuck, Johnny, cum inside.”

He groans, pressing his mouth firmly to your own, his tongue dancing along yours as his motions get even faster.

You’re clinging to him for dear life at this point, and when he slips a hand between your bodies to rub your clit, you nearly begin to cry from how good it feels.

“Love the way your pussy sucks me in when we play with your clit,” he tells you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck-

“Do you think you can cum for me again? I don’t want to be the only one cumming.”

“Yeah, yeah- fuck, yeah, I can cum again,” you whimper desperately.

“Let me know when,” he instructs, adjusting his motions ever so slightly so each thrust has his cock dragging against your gspot.

You let out a squeal of delight, your thighs shaking around his hips, stomach muscles clenching almost painfully-

“Fuck, John, I’m there- shit, fuck-”

Johnny shuts you up with his lips against your own, and for a second time, your orgasm hits you.

Your core clamps down incredibly hard on his cock, and Johnny groans deeply above you, fingers twitching on your clit. He keeps his pace, and a moment later, you feel his cum filling you up, coating your walls with warmth.

The feeling of his large length throbbing in your own oversensitive hole has your entire mind going fuzzy, and you kiss him like a woman lost, like a woman so completely in love that nothing else matters.

You ride out your orgasms together, until you’re both shaking. Only then does Johnny come to a stop on top of you, kisses turning to a more gentle nature as he holds you close. 

“I love you,” he tells you again.

You smile, blinking up at your best friend. “And I love you.”

Epilogue

The two of you are in the kitchen cooking brunch. Johnny is pressed to your back, watching intently, asking all sorts of questions about how you cook eggs to make them so delicious and superior to his own.

“The secret ingredient is love,” you tease.

Johnny can only laugh, holding you tighter.

He’s so lost in you, that he loses track of time, and as the two of you are sitting down to eat, Soonbok walks through the front door. She stops in her tracks when she sees you, letting her little overnight bag slip to the ground.

“Oh, hi, baby,” Johnny stands up immediately.

“Hi, daddy,” Soonie says, allowing her dad to pick her up for a hug while her eyes shift to you.

“Did Sabrina’s mom drop you off?” Johnny asks, looking out the door to wave at Soonie’s friend’s mom as she drives away.

“As always, daddy,” Soonie laughs. “I didn’t know y/n was coming over.”

“Surprise,” you grin, also standing so that when Johnny sets his daughter to the ground, she can run to give you a hug of your own.

Once Soonie is done squeezing you as tight as her little arms can muster, she looks between you and Johnny. For some reason, Johnny feels his heart beginning to race, there’s a knowing in his daughters eyes.

“What’s going on?” Soonie asks finally.

“Y/N and I just had a little sleep over,” Johnny tries to explain, and the concept isn’t a new one, you sleep over frequently… in the guest bedroom.

“So…” a wicked grin appears on Soonbok’s face, “Does this mean you’ll stop trying to get me to call her auntie now?”

“What?” Johnny lets out a surprised laugh.

“You heard me, daddy,” Soonbok’s smile widens. “Does this… does this mean we’ll be a real family now?”

Johnny lets out a shuddery breath. In the years you’ve been helping raise Soonbok, Johnny has broached the idea of her calling you Auntie Y/N, as a respect thing, and his daughter has always refused. Had she seen the connection this whole time? Has this been something Soonbok has wanted ever since she was a five year old with an inquisitive mind and an even more discerning eye?

Johnny’s gaze shifts to you, and you flash him a warm smile.

“Yeah, baby,” Johnny picks up his daughter. “We can be a real family now.”

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🔮 preview. The man ordering can’t see you lying on the floor of the food truck. He has no idea what’s going on- and you feel like tempting fate a little. You bring your hand to your pussy, beginning to rub yourself through your pants, adjusting the vibrator ever so slightly as it buzzes inside you. Johnny nearly drops the tomato he’s holding, quickly tearing his gaze from yours. You’ve never seen him trying to focus this hard- and failing. What had been your torture initially, has just become his own, and you kind of love it.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, exhibitionism (fucking in a food truck), use of vibrator while helping a customer, vibrator as a makeshift gag ball, breast worship, fucking with half your clothes on, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, breeding kink, etc…   I petnames. (hers) honey

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3.1k I teaser wc. 230

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

You love working with Johnny. Sure, it had been rough at first, getting his food truck on its feet, but it’s been two years, and with some insanely good marketing, you’re now running one of the top trucks in the city.

It’s a joy to watch Johnny fulfill his dreams every day- his odd obsession with sandwiches of all things has only added to your connection. Watching him smile and charm guests makes your heart swell with joy, and on the rare occasion Soonie comes to do the register and take orders, it feels like you’re just one happy family.

Today, however, is a weather disaster. The forcast had mentioned light sprinkles, but cuddled next to Johnny looking out at the torrential downpour, you both feel a little bamboozled.

“You know what would make this more fun?” Johnny asks.

“Customers?” you suggest.

“Yes, but also… I got you something.” The chef flashes you a sly smirk, and you pull away from his shoulder to asses him.

“Am I going to like where this is going?” you ask.

He was single for so long- and there’d been so many sexual things he’d missed out on during that time, but the two of you are making up for it every moment you have alone. You suppose this is a moment alone, so you’re not really shocked that his mind is in the gutter.

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[thesoftuglywrites]

Satoru Gojo doesn't sleep.

Well, that's a lie. He sleeps, he just doesn't sleep well.

The man averages about two to three hours a night, when the average adult human should be getting about seven to eight consecutive hours of sleep. One could either blame it on the constant stream of input of cursed energy or information from his Six Eyes technique, or the monotonous flow of reverse cursed energy to try and keep his brain at optimum performance, or the busy schedule that's imposed on him due to his special grade status, being "The Strongest" and all that malarkey.

That is, until he started to share his bed and his home with you.

You remember how you pleaded with Satoru to try and get some rest after a day of lessons, the exorcism of a special grade curse that roamed the grounds of an abandoned primary school, and the paperwork that came with it. It seemed that had become his everyday schedule. Early mornings to mid afternoons, lessons. Afternoons to late evenings, missions. Evenings to the dead of night, paperwork. He barely had any time to take care of himself.

Even through the blindfold that he was wearing, you could see the bags were starting to bruise past his eyes and transcend to his cheekbones.

He was dog tired and in desperate need of rest.

You approached him as he was hunched over his office desk, typing up a report on the mission that had transpired that day. You noted that the plate of food that you had set out for him was picked clean, so you were at least grateful that he had taken the time to get something in his stomach.

You attempted to place a hand on his back, but were stopped with mere nanometers to spare by the invisible barrier that covered his body.

“You know you don’t have to use your Infinity with me around, right?” you gently chided.

He let out a soft sigh and the barrier lifted, allowing you to touch him. “I’m sorry. I’ve just…I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he groaned, letting his head fall forward and land on the keyboard. Consecutive ‘F’’s started to fill the screen where he had left off typing.

“‘Toru, it’s almost midnight. You’ve been at this report for the past four hours, and then some.” Your hand slid up his neck to get to his hair, oscillating between scratching and massaging his scalp as you threaded your fingers through his silver white locks. “You should get some rest. You, of all people, certainly need it the most.”

“Mmm… feels good, babe,” he moaned, his voice slightly muffled by the keyboard. He sits up straight, lifting his head off the desk. “As much as I want to, though, I can’t. I gotta get this report ready for Yaga so he can spare me a meeting with the higher-ups.” His nose upturned at the mention of the sickly, old, conservative bastards that sat behind paper screens.

“The higher-ups can eat shit for all I care. Right now, I’m concerned about you, ‘Toru.” You crouched down beside him and pulled his blindfold off, allowing you to look him in his eyes. “You keep going like this, and you’re gonna end up burning yourself out, my love. I won’t stand by and let that happen, not if I can help it, at least.” You reached up and gently held his cheek as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his forehead. “Please come to bed.”

A moment of silence passed as Satoru drank in your concerns as well as your physical affections. He was a weak man when it came to your touch, being rendered to putty sometimes, with the euphoria that your body offered him. You were really the only person that he allowed freely to touch him, as no one else was really allowed the privilege.

You could have almost sworn that he started to purr underneath your fingers.

“Okay, I’ll go to sleep… if.”

You raised an eyebrow. “If?”

“If you come to bed with me. I don’t like the idea of you going back to your apartment so late at night, especially if I’m not there with you.”

You gave him a half-hearted smile with a breathy chuckled that followed. “Sure, ‘Toru. I’ll come to bed with you.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to a standing position, letting him stand to his full height. He nearly stumbled after you as you guided him to his bedroom.

Satoru, when presented with the large California King sized bed, damn near face planted into the covers.

He was more exhausted than he initially thought he was.

Satoru turned onto his side, and even in total darkness, you could still see the glow of his blue eyes as they searched for you. He made grabby-hands at you as he stretched out his arms towards you, trying to get you into bed with him.

You clambered up beside him, quickly being swept up into his embrace as he pulled you into his chest, his warm exhaled breath tickling your exposed skin.

“Can… can I try something?” You hesitantly asked, unsure if he was going to take you seriously or not.

He pulled away, giving you a mischievous look with a small smirk starting to quirk up at the edge of his mouth.

“It’s not like that, you perv. I wanna try something different tonight. I think you’ll actually come to like it.”

He decided to humor you. He opened his arms and you maneuvered your way out of his embrace. You pulled back the covers and laid flat on your back with your head on his pillows.

“Come here,” you beckoned, patting the space beside you.

Satoru wasted little to no time, eagerly climbing up next to you, laying his head on your chest where he could hear your steady heartbeat. He nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, his breaths now lightly cascading over your collarbones. He wrapped you up into his arms, pulling you nearly inhumanly close to his front, almost as if he wanted to merge bodies with you.

“Shh… go to sleep, ‘Toru. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you softly cooed, your hand finding his scalp once again as you weaved your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching the skin there.

“Mmm…promise?” He sounded drunk.

“I promise. Get some rest.” You leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of his hair.

It didn’t take long for his respiration to even out, letting out soft puffs of air, and his grip to loosen only the smallest fraction. He began to lean a little bit more heavily into you as he wasn’t conscious to be mindful of his weight on top of you, but you didn’t mind.

You laid there, staring at the ceiling as you continued to stroke his hair, listening only to the steady rate of Satoru’s breathing and the soft hum of traffic outside of his high rise apartment.

You honestly can’t remember the last time that Satoru just took some time to breathe. Even on the rare occasion when he had downtime, his brain was still on high alert, no thanks to his Cursed Techniques and his high-ranked status in the Jujutsu world. He worried for his students and his co-workers safety, he fought the higher-ups on… basically everything, but his main concern, above all, was you.

You, the little non-sorcerer that managed to capture his attention by being at the right place at the right time. You, who knew nothing of the Jujutsu world, treated him like an actual human being instead of the weapon that he was always deemed. You have shown him genuine love and care, to the best of your ability, at least, trying to be a foundation for him to lean on even in his darkest moments.

It was an unorthodox relationship between the two of you, but you somehow made it work.

As time passed, Satoru remained in the same position with him tucked away at your side and his head on your chest. In his slumber, his hand started to drift up and grab hold of your shirt, fisting into his grip as he held onto you tightly, somehow afraid that you were going to slip away into the night and get away from him.

Eventually, you started to succumb to your own drowsiness, your eyes growing unbearably heavy as you laid there, the comfortable bed and the heat from Satoru’s body starting to lull you into a deeper sense of tranquility. You pressed another kiss to the top of his head and closed your eyes, waiting for sleep to come for you.

The two of you remained undisturbed for the rest of the night, finding solace in each other’s embrace.

[jun1perf1nch17]

Shadows and Silk

Chapter one: First Impressions

Sevika x (F) Reader

Summary: You a new prostitute at Babette's brothel meets the regular Sevika a harden criminal with a dark history. Despite her past and her reputation of being cold and closed off, behind closed doors she shows you a different kind of woman. Throughout your time together your purely transactional relationship grows into one of love and affection. How will the both of you handle a relationship and the uprising of a revolution against Piltover, will she drag you down with the revolution or will you both flourish in the chaos.

Warnings: 18+ Sex work, Mentions of Sex

Word Count: 2377

A/N: This is my first time writing fan fiction like ever! So let me know what y'all think of it. Hopefully y'all are in love with Sevika as much as I am. Also I'm gonna try and update every week if not every other week.

MEN and MINORS DNI

I stand before Babette's brothel, the neon lights adorning the front of it paint my face in a kaleidoscope of vivid colors.

Just days ago, I was living in a small town seven hours outside of Zaun, working in a brothel not much different than Babette's. Life was manageable, steady, even. I had earned enough to scrape by, and I even had regulars I’d grown comfortable with. But everything changed when the town's governing council launched an effort to crack down on prostitution. It turns out a lot of the men on the board had gotten caught with prostitutes in other brothels across town, and it seems like their wives did not like that too much. One by one, brothels across town were raided and shut down. The Red Garter, my little corner of solitude, was no exception. And so, here I am, standing in front of Babette's.

Even after over three years in this industry, the anxiety of a new job still clings to me like a second skin. I inhale deeply, willing my nerves to settle and step toward the door. As I push it open, a small bell chimes overhead, announcing my arrival. It was earlier in the afternoon so the place was almost barren of any clients. The clients that were there were sitting with some of the girls in their rooms, and looked like they were chatting away about whatever was on their minds at the time. 

Walking down the dimly lit hallway past the rooms where I could assume the workers were housed, I made my way toward the back of the establishment. If I had to guess, the office was back there. Sure enough, I soon came across a curved door with a sign hanging on it that read Employees Only. I knocked lightly, and a muffled “Come in” echoed from within.

Pushing the door open, I stepped into a small, cluttered office. Behind the desk sat a short yordle woman, her large ears twitching slightly as she scribbled something onto a piece of paper. The desk was a chaotic mess, papers were scattered everywhere, as though she’d been juggling a dozen tasks at once.

“Are you (Y/N)?” she asked, her soft eyes meeting mine.

“Yes, ma’am. That’s me.”

She let out a soft hmmph at my reply, leaning back in her chair.

“I was reviewing the application you sent in. Quite the resume you’ve got there. Most people who apply here are on their last legs, desperate and out of options.”

I offered a small shrug. “Well, being a prostitute wasn’t exactly my dream job either, but I’ve come to enjoy the work.”

Her lips curled into a knowing smile, her expression one of quiet approval. “Good attitude,” she said, her tone firm yet warm. “You’ve been around the block, and it seems like you’ll fit in just fine here. I trust you already know the ins and outs of this line of work, so let’s cut to the chase. Do you want the job?”

Relief flooded through me, a weight lifted off my shoulders at the stress of not finding a job. My face lit up, unable to hide the joy surging through me. “Yes ma’am I would love to take the job”

“Perfect! Let me give you the rundown on how things work around here and a few warnings about Zaun, especially since you’re new to the area,” she began, her tone brisk but not unkind. “First things first, most of the clients you’ll see are thugs, criminals, drunks, you name it. Be smart about who you let into your room. You’re your own company here, so you have full control. You can accept or deny whoever you want.”

I nodded along attentively, letting her know I was listening. Encouraged, she continued, “Now, you’ll be staying here at the brothel unless you’ve got another place to live, which I’m guessing you don’t?” She paused, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to respond.

“No, ma’am, I don’t,” I confirmed.

“Perfect!” she said with a cheerful clap of her hands. “In that case, let me show you to your new room.”

Sliding off her chair, she stood, and I couldn’t help but blink in surprise as she stepped down, revealing her full height or lack thereof. She barely came up to my knees. How does someone so tiny manage to run a place like this, let alone in a city as dangerous as Zaun? I wondered. Before I could linger on the thought, she gave a gentle push to the small of my back, nudging me toward the door.

We walked back down the hallway, her pace brisk despite her stature. As we passed one of the rooms, I noticed its curtains were drawn tightly shut, but faint, Wanton moans escaped through the velvet fabric. My cheeks warmed as my mind wandered, imagining the scene unfolding behind the heavy drapes.

Just a few feet beyond the occupied room, she stopped in front of another doorway, drawing aside the curtains with a dramatic flourish. “Here it is, your new home!”

I stepped inside and took in the space. The centerpiece of the room was a circular bed set against the back wall, dressed in blush pink sheets and bedding. To the right, was a matching pink velvet couch to add a touch of comfort, and on the left, an antique wooden dresser stood ready to hold my belongings. The room exuded a strange mix of elegance and whimsy, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Zaun.

As I walked further in, something on the bed caught my eye, a mask. Curious, I picked it up and turned it over in my hands. The mask was intricately crafted to resemble an albino deer. The ears had a soft blush of pink on the inside, with tufts of delicate fur peeking out. The snout extended downward, the pale pink nose blending harmoniously into the design. It was hauntingly realistic, each detail painstakingly precise.

Whoever made this must be an amazing artist, I thought, running my fingers over the smooth surface. It’s almost unsettling how lifelike it looks. Awe washed over me as I continued to inspect the mask.

Babette must have noticed me inspecting the mask because she spoke up. “Everyone must wear a mask at all times when they’re with a client. It’s purely for your safety, nothing more. We wouldn’t want anyone recognizing you in public and causing you trouble, now would we?”

“No, ma’am,” I agreed, carefully placing the mask back on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Now,” she continued, “why don’t I show you the bathing quarters?”

I followed her out of the room and down the hallway to the far end, where she stopped at a stairway concealed by heavy curtains. With a dramatic sweep, she pulled the curtains aside and gestured for me to go first. I climbed the stairs and found myself in a stunning bathroom. At the back of the room, a wall of frosted windows let in soft, diffused light, illuminating a massive circular bathtub. The windowsills near the tub were lined with a wide variety of soaps and lotions, presumably for the employees’ use. To the left of the tub, several vanities were arranged along the wall, some cluttered with makeup and perfumes, others nearly bare. On the right, a row of doors likely concealed toilets.

“This is where you’ll bathe while you stay here,” Babette explained. “The soaps are yours to use, but feel free to bring your own if you prefer.” I hummed softly in acknowledgment. “And one rule about the bathrooms: no clients are allowed up here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied with a nod.

She led me to the left side of the room, where she pointed out my designated vanity and sink. Each vanity was marked with a colored ribbon to identify its owner, mine had a pink ribbon tied neatly around the top, matching the soft blush tones of my room.

We lingered in the bathroom for a while as she explained more about the expectations during my stay. I was required to pay Babette 400 Notes at the end of each week. She advised me to keep my prices high enough to maintain value but not so high that it discouraged clients. Most of the girls charged 100 Notes per hour, she added.

After discussing the job and getting to know each other better, Babette finally led me back downstairs.

As we descended the stairs, Babette led me back toward my room. Before I could reach the door, I collided with something solid, something that felt like a brick wall. I stumbled backward, only for Babette to catch me by the waist, stopping me from falling onto her.

“Watch it!” the brick wall barked.

I looked up, startled, and found myself face-to-face with a woman towering at least 6’5”. She was massive. Her shoulders were broad like a linebacker’s, and her muscular arms looked strong enough to crush a skull. As I gave her a quick once-over, I realized she was shamelessly doing the same to me. Her intense gaze sent a shiver down my spine. Without a word, she huffed, brushed past me, and strode toward the front door.

I turned to watch her leave, but my eyes flicked toward the room she had just exited, the previously closed-off one. Inside, I saw a woman sprawled on the bed, fully nude and visibly panting. “Looks like she had a good time,” I whispered to Babette, half-teasing.

But when I glanced at Babette, her expression wasn’t amused. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her eyes clouded with concern. She grabbed my hand and gently pulled me closer, speaking in a low, urgent tone.

“Listen, you need to be careful with that one. Her name’s Sevika, Silco’s right-hand man. She’s known for pushing the girls to their limits. Some can’t handle it and end up out of work for days. A lot of them refuse to work with her anymore.” Babette paused, watching my reaction before continuing. “If you decide to take her on, that’s your choice. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I nodded, trying to sound nonchalant. “Well, we’ll see if she even wants me first,” I said with a teasing smirk.

Babette narrowed her eyes slightly but didn’t reply. Instead, she turned and continued down the hall toward my room. Pulling back the curtain, she gestured for me to enter.

Breaking the silence, she said, “Now that you’re caught up on everything, here are your keys, one for your bedroom and one for the bathroom. I figure you’ll want to head out for clothes and essentials. Just make sure you’re safe if you leave.”

With that, she turned to go.

“Bye,” she called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Once Babette leaves, I turn to face my room. I walk over to the bed and let myself fall face-first into the pillows, savoring the softness after the long, exhausting day of moving in. For a moment, I just lie there, letting the quiet envelop me. But reality soon hits, I don’t have anything to wear, for work or otherwise. With a groan, I push myself up and off the bed, reluctantly grabbing my purse before heading toward the front door.

Since I’m still unfamiliar with the area, I decided to stick close to the brothel. Luckily, I found a thrift shop and a small lingerie store nearby. At the thrift shop, I pick out some basics: a couple of pairs of jeans, denim shorts, tank tops, and crop tops. I also grab a few trendier, club-worthy outfits for nights out. The lingerie shop offers more elegant options, and I settle on a simple pink set to match my room and a sultry black one-piece that oozes confidence.

By the time I finish shopping, the night is alive. The city streets are filled with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the hum of people enjoying themselves. As I make my way back to the brothel, something catches my eye, a bar called The Last Drop. Through the windows, I spot her, the towering woman I ran into earlier. She’s seated at a round table near the back of the bar, surrounded by men who seem engrossed in a card game. Judging by their scowling faces, they’re not winning.

She’s got a cigar hanging loosely from her mouth, its ember glowing faintly as she exhales smoke without even bothering to remove it. There’s an air of effortless dominance about her that’s hard to ignore. My eyes linger on her, tracing the sharp lines of her jaw and the way she seems to command the room without saying a word. Suddenly, as if sensing my gaze, she turns and locks eyes with me.

My heart skips a beat, and heat rushes to my cheeks as I quickly look away, embarrassed at being caught staring. I hurry past the bar, my steps quickening until I’m out of sight.

When I finally reach the brothel, the exterior is abuzz with activity. Men linger by the walls, cigarettes glowing between their fingers as they laugh and chat. A few toss lewd comments my way as I walk past, but I keep my head down and ignore them, focusing on getting inside.

Back in my room, I pull the curtains closed behind me, tying them off to block out the outside world, then lock the door. I begin unpacking my purchases, folding each piece carefully and tucking it away into the dresser. As I work, I can’t shake the thought of Sevika. Despite our only interaction being that brief, accidental collision, she lingers in my mind. There’s something magnetic about her, a mix of strength, mystery, and danger that both intrigues and unsettles me. Babette’s warning echoes in my head, but it doesn’t stop me from wondering what it would be like to have a moment alone with her.

The rest of the night passes quietly. I finish unpacking and change into my PJs. I curl into my pink sheets, letting the softness lull me into relaxation. Yet, as I drift off to sleep, my mind inevitably wanders back to the tall, imposing woman.

[ryebread0605]

Wait, are there perverts who request this cute child with ortho? ah @ryebread0605 can you do Lilia x reader smut on honeymoon? I haven't had mine yet with my beautiful husband with pink locks and I wanted to have that with him!

Unfortunately there are some people who write gross stuff about Ortho and I despise it :((

As for your ask, I’d love to! I absolutely love teasing Lilia so I hope you don’t mind that I added it! 

Excitement flowed through your veins as you and your newly pronounced husband arrived at the small villa you rented for the week. Having just had the wedding only a few days ago, the essence of the party still hung heavy in your mind. Seeing him in that tuxedo, your friends and families around you, hell he even managed to get Silver to stay awake the whole time! It was a dream come true.

As you sat on the plush blue couch, your now husband sat beside you and ran his thumb across your hand, 

“My dear, I have something I’d like to ask you about” your attention was on him with a soft tilt of your head. Urging him to continue, he complied and moved closer and tilted your chin up softly making you blush softly.

“I’ve been thinking for a while and, with Silver now grown up,” he smirked softly as he continued, “I would like to have another child. One with you.” Your eyes widened but you couldn’t deny the idea sounded quite nice. With a smile and nod, you were quickly pinned to the couch as the fae slid your top up and off. His lips brushed against your still clothed breasts before the bra covering them was torn off. The little tease, however, only ran his fingers along the bare skin, watching you squirm a bit under him.

“What’s wrong my little bat? Use your words~” you huffed, muttering under your breath which earned you a bite on your neck. He smirked before quickly pulling your bottoms off as well, gaze looking you over as he unbuttoned his shirt. No matter how many times he saw your body, he never got enough of it. 

In what felt like only a few short moments, he had you on your hands and knees as he positioned himself behind you, his hard on prodding at your sopping cunt as he teased the tip along your slit. A whine rolled past your lips, desperation leading you to rub your ass against him, making him let out a low growl sound.

“My dear, do I need to show you how to be patient?” You immediately ceased your movements at that, knowing full well that would mean a night of edging with no relief. Thankfully, he soon bent to your needs and pushed the tip of his cock into your aching cunt. He didn’t wait long before shoving the rest in, starting off at a medium pace while groaning in pleasure. Your moans mixed with his, filling the air with the wonderful sounds of love as his hips picked up speed. 

His stamina seemed to never end as hour after hour passed, him moving you from position to position, filling you up until you felt like you were going to burst, as he finally stilled for the final time. Panting and sweaty, the two of you looked to each other with pure love in both your eyes. You knew in that moment that you made the right decision in marrying this fae.

“Sevens… how did I end up with someone as perfect as you my little bat?”

[cherryblossom-heart]

Could you love me one last time? (B.B ModernAU!)

Bucky Barnes x Reader 

Masterlist

Summary: It was inevitable, everyone else around you could see it. You and Bucky Barnes were meant to fall for each other. Unfortunately you were also meant to break each others hearts. You left, he stayed and you thought that was it, until a wedding made you come back to face the past you left behind.

13.1 k words

Content warning: ANGST, toxic 'situationship' between Reader and Bucky, heartbreak, alcohol comsumption, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Bucky and Reader sleeping with other people while they have their situationship going on.

A/N: It's been a long time since I posted. Ik I teased this a long time ago but life got in the way and I forgot about it but now I'm back with this so I hope you guys like it. You're welcomed to send me an ask with any comments, questions, etc., you have on this 😊

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics

Peggy’s dress was surprisingly beautiful. The first time you had seen it in pictures, the dress up in a hanger, you had thought of it a bit ugly to your liking. The long, slight puffy sleeves, the plain A skirt, and the square neckline made for an overall boring piece of fabric, and when she had asked you over FaceTime what your thoughts were, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. But now, as she walked with a smile on her face to her soon-to-be husband, you were happy you kept your mouth shut. It wasn’t the dress or the makeup or the hairstyle that made her stunning, it was the love and care in her eyes. It was the happiness in her face whenever she looked at Steve.

Just as she reached the end of the aisle, taking her place next to you and the rest of the bridesmaids, a pair of familiar blue icy eyes caught your attention. Bucky looked good, you could admit to yourself, even after not seeing him for the past almost six years, it seemed that time had just made him even more attractive. He no longer was the youthful, long haired and clean shaved guy that had once dared you to see who could fit more grapes in your mouth, accidentally spitting one to your face as he tried not to choke with them. The traces of his fuckboyish persona were long gone too, instead replaced by a seriousness you had only seen on certain occasions. This Bucky was no longer a boy that enjoyed playing with feelings and breaking hearts; this was a man. A man that looked slightly older had light wrinkles and shorter hair that came with a slight beard. This was a Bucky changed, mature.

This Bucky wasn’t the one you had left behind when you moved away.

His eyes stayed on you during the whole ceremony, and you couldn’t help but stare back at him.  For years you had wondered what you would do if you ever saw him again, you wondered if things would be awkward, or perhaps he would act as if nothing had happened, as if both of you hadn’t ended up with a broken heart that night. A part of you thought it would still hurt as it did almost six years ago, maybe the anger would still be there and it would end up with both of you avoiding each other as much as you could. You saw a hundred scenarios running through your head all through your seven hour flight, but you never considered this one.

You never expected he would be so direct, or to look at you with such intensity. You were sure that after all this time he would have already forgotten about you, leaving your memory buried in the back of his mind as he easily replaced you with some other girl. Yet the way his eyes screamed for your attention made you think otherwise, a deep-rooted desperation washed over them, and you understood what he said.

“I’ve missed you.”

You weren’t the only one to notice it. Once the party started and the bride and groom were going around tables greeting everyone, Natasha, Wanda, and Pepper dragged you to the venue's private dressing room to drill you with every question they could think of. You were thankful Peggy was too busy with her new husband, or else the interrogatory would’ve been ten times more exhausting.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Have you guys talked?”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

“Why is he looking at you like that?”

“Do you still love him?”

And that was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Did your heart still belong to James Buchannan Barnes? Was your heart still yearning for the tumultuous yet passionate and ultimately toxic relationship that had ensued between both of you?

The answer to all of that was yes and no. You didn’t miss the person you had become at the end of your "relationship," if you could even call it that; you didn’t miss the fights, the crying, and the resentment. You didn’t miss the uncertainty that came with being with young Bucky Barnes or the hole in your chest that you felt whenever he would leave.

However, you did miss his company. Not the bullshit, flirtatious, overly confident, and emotionally distant persona he would often put out. No, that dickhead was one of the reasons you never worked out. Instead, you missed the Bucky that would buy you a coffee every morning, the one that would make you laugh until your stomach hurt, the one that would invite you over to have a movie night and buy your favorite snacks.

You missed Bucky, who used to be your friend.

Natasha, the ever-observant of your group of friends, had warned you before it started. She had seen the way you eyed each other at a party one drunken night, both your eyes burning with desire as a product of the growing sexual tension you have had ever since you met for the first time.

As it turned out, Natasha was not only beautiful but also intuitive.

“Nat, please—” you drunkenly argued. Your red cup filled with liquor spilled as you tried to walk away from the redhead, but her hand stopped you.

“Listen to me. I know you want to fuck him, but you have to promise me you won’t do it.” The seriousness behind her voice didn’t register in your intoxicated brain, though, and you kept rolling your eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You half slurred, half laughed.

“I see the way you look at him; I also see the way he looks at you. Maybe one day you guys could be a good couple, great even, but right now the only thing that could come out of you two hooking up is one of you getting hurt, if not both.” Her hands grabbed your face, and green eyes met yours. “You will break each other's hearts. You already love each other; we can all see it, but neither of you is ready to be in a relationship or to compromise yet. So please, for the love of God, do not sleep with him.”

Natasha’s words were wise, and with time, they turned out to be true. The next morning you had woken up in bed alone; the only memory of him was the smell of cheap beer, sweat, and the cologne he always wore.

That was the first time Bucky had broken your heart.

Truth be told, as much as you had blamed Bucky for the downfall of your situationship, you were as equally guilty as he had been. The loneliness, the anger, and the resentment you felt throughout the relationship were probably reciprocated because, as Nat had said, you weren’t ready to be together.

Both of you loved each other deeply, but you didn’t know how to do it. Not in a healthy way.

So you tore yourselves apart, sleeping with one another but never brave enough to define things. You acted as if you were a couple, but neither of you would admit your feelings, not even to each other. It was a cycle of stability and sex that always crashed down with one of you being scared, perhaps both of you at the same time, of giving your heart away.

“Hey”

Your heart drummed against your chest, and a warmth spread over your cheeks. You had missed his voice, the sweet baritone of his voice had always made your body react like that. And now, after years of not hearing it, you finally realized how much you had craved for it.

He carried two flutes filled with champagne and passed one to you, which you gladly took.

“Thanks.” you said with a smile.

Both of you took a sip from your drinks, unsure of how to start the so needed conversation. Fortunately, Bucky decided to take the first step.

“They seem happy, huh?”

You chuckled mentally at his opening line, but you admitted to yourself you couldn’t do better.

“Yeah.” You took a second sip of your drink. “The happiest I’ve ever seen them.”

“You must be proud.” he pointed out. You looked at him, confused at what he meant. “Of your matchmaking skills. This wouldn’t have happened without you convincing Peggy to let Steve show her around the city when she first moved here.”

Ah, of course. A sweet smile placed on your lips as you remembered Steve’s adoration showing on his face the first time he saw Peggy after coming to visit you. She, on the other hand, thought nothing more of him than just a pretty guy, but you could see that behind the tough façade she always displayed towards men that tried to flirt with her, she was interested in him, his character, and the kindness he always displayed.

So naturally, you intervened. And you got the perfect opportunity when Peggy got offered a job in New York.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You smirked at him.

“Sure,” he chuckled.

A heartbeat passed, and blue eyes connected with yours once again. The more you looked at them, the more you could feel all the things he wanted to say—a storm of words locked behind them and almost ready to spill. But above all, you could see a bit of sadness, and he found himself finding the same in yours.

His hand twitched in instinct, wanting to caress your face to comfort you, as he had done for so many years, but he caught himself before doing it. It was too late though; you caught it the moment you saw his eyes tense up.

“Do you—” his words died on his mouth, the rushed beating of his heart stopping them. He cleared his throat, trying to push out more confidence than he actually felt. “Wanna go take a walk?”

You didn’t answer immediately. You couldn’t. Every rational part of you was screaming at you, scolding you for even thinking of going with him. You couldn't do it, you couldn’t fall for the same cycle you had run away from in the first place. You weren’t the same person as you were before, you matured, and you learned from your mistakes. Going out with the man that always seem to bring your deepest, darkest, and most unwanted feelings was something you couldn't do.

You couldn't.

You shouldn’t.

You shouldn’t.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.”

You were convinced that whoever planned Steve and Peggy’s wedding was into sorcery, or at the very least a clairvoyant. When Peggy and Steve chose this place along with a terrace to host the ceremony, everyone had been skeptical of it, as having a wedding outside in the middle of April wasn’t a good choice. As the day of the ceremony closed in, the rainy days did too, and five days before it wouldn’t stop raining all day. Steve and Peggy had expressed their concerns to the wedding planner, but they only got a confident response that nothing would ruin their day. And the wedding planner had been right, not a single drop fell that day in the middle of April; instead, a cool, warm day had welcomed the newlyweds.

As you walked the chilly but comfortable night streets of New York, you thanked the wedding planner and their perfect timing. Even walking in silence along him brought your heart back to the many times you had done the same thing back then, back when you were just two college students without any idea what the future held for you.

“So... how you’ve been?” He asked, unsure of what else to say.

“I’ve been alright. Work has really taken over my life.”

He chuckled. “You? A workaholic?”

It wasn't that you had been irresponsible or a mess back in college, but you had always been more of an adventurer, and you had always pointed out your desire to never lose your freedom.

He had been the same.

“Look who’s talking, Mr. ‘I have my own firm’,” you teased.

Steve had told you a couple of years ago about their idea of opening his own firm, alongside Bucky and Sam. You remember your heart stopping at the mention of his name, but you didn’t tell Steve to not mention him; instead, you asked more about it. It was the first time in years you got any updates on his life, and you allowed yourself to dwell in it. That call stayed on your mind for weeks.

“Shut up,” he smirked.

That was all he needed to open up about what had happened to him. He told you about his old firm and how he hated to work there. How he wanted to have a place where working pro bono wasn’t such an impossible thing to do, he wanted to do more than just defend white collar rich people that seemed to think the law was always above them. He told you how scared he was of leaving somewhere where he had stability but was ultimately convinced by Steve to make a big move, follow what he wanted to do.

In return, you told him about how scared you had been of building a new life in a different country and how you thought your job would suffer from it, as you had thought that as a journalist with a lack of connections and knowledge of the place would put you in a thought position. You told him how you had met Peggy when you were interviewing a couple of government officers for alleged corruption practices, and out of everyone there, Peggy seemed to be the only one that had taken any concern in it. You told him about the job offer you had gotten for a company right in New York that you weren’t taken so seriously but you still wanted to see what it was.

The more you heard him speak, the more happiness grew inside you. Sometimes you wondered whether you had made the right choice or not when you left him behind, but hearing everything he had accomplished, both of you, you were confident you had done what was right for you both.

You turned to him, both of you stopping in your tracks, your hand moved before you could stop it and found it’s place in his, and he reacted on pure instinct, his fingers intertwining with yours.

Bucky’s touch had always brought you warmth on cold days. Ever since the first time you shook hands, there had been an invisible force that made you crave his touch, your hands prickling wherever he had touch. With Bucky, you had always felt safe, even when he was breaking your heart.

You searched in his eyes for any signs of uncomfortableness or rejection at your touch, your heart aching in your chest at the thought of it, but there was only surprise and vulnerability in them. The corner of his eyes lowered as his eyebrows furrowed and his thumb swept over your skin, sending sparkles all over your body.

He had missed this, more than he would ever admit.

“I’m proud of you, Jamie.” His face lit up, a happy smile spreading over his face. “I always knew you would do great things.”

Bucky’s hand leaves yours, a sudden ache installing in your chest, but it didn’t stay there long as he engulfed you in a tight hug, one of his arms surrounding your waist and the other one going behind your neck.

Your head found its place in the crook of his neck, and his hand held the back of your head. His eyes closed as he smelled your lavender shampoo.

“I’m so proud of you too, my beautiful angel,” he whispered next to your ear, making your eyes prickle with the treat of tears spilling from them. “Peggy told me how hard you’ve worked for your position. You have the job of your dreams, you deserve every promotion you’ve gotten, every award, and every adventure you’ve had. I’m proud of the life you have built for yourself.”

The hug became tighter as you both relished in each other's touch and smell, a memory of the past that still ached but also brought you the sweetest of comfort.

Even after all that had happened, the love and care, no matter how tainted it had ended up as, still remained there. Deep down, in the bittersweet memories of how good things had been and the old promises that were never kept, the feelings were still there.

After a few minutes, the embrace was cut short, both of you now slightly embarrassed for the sudden display of affection. The heat in your cheeks made you cringe inwards, and you forced yourself to look away. You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn't have enjoyed it as much as you did. You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this, you wouldn't feel so deeply for him.

As it turned out, stopping loving Bucky Barnes wasn’t as easy as you had thought.

His hand wrapped yours, taking you by surprise. A charming smile showed his white teeth, and the little wrinkles around his eyes made your heart melt. You smiled back at him, the butterflies in your stomach growing stronger and stronger; perhaps they never left.

“Remember that old bar with the arcade inside?” he asked out of nowhere.

“The one where we found after the whole John Walker thing?” He nodded. “Yeah, what about it?”

“Let’s go grab a drink there.”

Electricity ran through your veins at his words, and you felt like you were a freshman in college again.

“Aren’t we a little too overdressed to go to a bar?” You question. Bucky’s navy blue suit that was paired with an expensive-looking pair of black shoes and your lilac flowy long dress were definitely too much for a dinky little bar.

Bucky’s eyes shone with a youthful spark you had seen so long ago as he squeezed your hand.

“Who cares?”

When you got accepted into your first college choice, you thought you might have been dreaming. The chances you got accepted were the lowest of every place that you had applied to, but by some miracle you got it. You had dreamed of what college life would be—the classes you would take, the new and interesting people you would meet, and even the parties you would attend. You had prepared yourself for a life full of work and perhaps adventure.

But not even a lifetime of daydreaming could’ve prepared you for Bucky Barnes.

Life is filled with an ocean of coincidences, but the ones that always lingered in your mind were the ones that brought you to him. If Natasha’s phone had not died the night before, she would’ve woken up in time to get to class, and she would’ve taken her preferred spot in the middle of the class. If she had woken up in time, she wouldn’t have ended up sitting in the only available seat, which coincidentally was next to you.

If Natasha had woken up earlier, you would’ve never ended up talking to her and subsequently going to go grab something to eat; she would’ve never introduced you to her roommate Wanda or her longtime friend Steve. Also, she would’ve never invited you to hang out with the rest of her friend group in the exact same bar that you would adopt for a weekly Friday reunion for the rest of college.

And perhaps you would’ve never had met Bucky Barnes, or you would’ve ended up being one of many nightstands. Or maybe life would’ve ended up bringing you to him no matter what, because after meeting him you started to believe in soulmates. Not in the typical type of soulmates that, with just one glance, you weren’t that naive, but you did believe in the type of soulmates that would understand you unlike anyone else. There had always been an emptiness in your heart that you never noticed, not until he held you for the first time after a bad day.

Bucky was your soulmate because things had never been complicated with him, not even the first time you met each other. Talking to him, opening up, and letting him see the ugliest parts of yourself was almost second nature to you. You were convinced that the only person who could see the world the same as you was him. He saw the good and the bad in you because, in the end, the same parts in you that were broken were already broken in himself.

Maybe this was why you didn’t work out.

At the time you didn’t care, the only thing you cared about was the fact that being with Bucky made you feel good. That’s why it wasn’t so hard to convince you to go with him to do things that weren’t necessarily smart, wise... or legal. Things like breaking into a party that was hosted by Bucky’s college nemesis and spray painting in his room the words “You are nothing without Daddy’s money.” Bucky had always been talented at hitting where it hurt, especially when it came to someone who had jeopardized his scholarship.

John Walker had been furious later that night when he had brought a girl upstairs only to fund the stench of the spray pain nauseatingly filling his room. The black letters still dripped from the freshness of it, and Walker had gone in what could only be described as a temper tantrum at the age of twenty, at least that’s what everyone had said next Monday when you went back to class.

That night you had decided to celebrate, roaming the streets of New York in search of a bar that would take your fake ID’s and wouldn’t think twice about it but could also drink in peace without having to fight for a beer. Unfortunately, everywhere seemed to be either packed or the bartender would intensely check everyone's ID, driving you away from there. You had already paid a good amount for them, you didn’t want to risk losing it.

Almost close to giving up and just going back to Bucky’s apartment, a neon light caught your attention. Big, bright cyan letters read “Blue Circuit,"  a lonely bar in the middle of town that not a lot of people seemed to go to. A bar that would become a place just for you and Bucky, away from everyone else, from people’s expectations, and above all, away from the real world. As long as you were there with him, nothing mattered, and no one else could break apart what this place meant.

But if things had gone the way they were supposed to, then you wouldn’t have left, and even after all these years, this place would still be yours, and his eyes wouldn’t have looked at you with such hatred when he had caught you in the bathroom with a random guy you met at a party.

“C’mon!” Bucky yelled once your character had gotten the last winning hit on his. The animation of the pixelated woman with steel fans using them to cut his character's head officially proclaimed your victory.

With a cocky smile, you took a step back, winking at him as you took a sip of your drink, and the taste of rum filled your taste buds. “I don’t know why you’re so surprised, I’ve always been better at this than you.”

His body came close to you, close enough to smell the beers he had been taking, and with a seamless swing he took your glass away from your lips and brought it to his, his body ever so slightly trapping you against a table.

“That’s because you always cheat.” He said, with a playfulness in his eyes that made your heart pound against your chest. “You do your little cheat codes that I’ve never learned.”

“You mean learning the combos and using them?” You questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Sure, if that’s what you call them.”

You took back your drink, placing it on the table behind you, before grabbing his hand and guiding him through the other machines, scanning them with your eyes as you passed the few that still remained there. The classics were still there: Pacman, Space Invaders, MK, Tetris, etc; but those were still games that Bucky still struggled with. You remembered you used to tell him he had an old soul, and that’s why he always struggled to play any videogames, no matter how old they were.

“So, what do you want to get your ass beaten on now?”

His eyes swept through the room until they finally landed in a new addition to the bar, a brand new air hockey table. He didn’t even have to say a word, once his eyes had reached yours, you knew it.

With a happy smile, you rushed to the table. The way you both laughed reminded you of the way you would run hand in hand to your next class when you were late, the rushing in your veins and the tingling sensation of his touch in your skin being the only thing that mattered once you caught a glance of his face. A silly crush, you had deemed it. As if his smile wouldn’t warm up your inside, as if his presence wasn’t the only one that you could tolerate sometimes. As if he hadn’t managed to become one of the most important people in your life in just six months.

As if he wasn’t your first actual love.

College me was so naive, you thought amused with yourself. What you weren’t expecting was the speckles of bitterness that lingered in your mouth moments after it.

“You wanna make this more interesting?” Bucky broke you from your thoughts.

Right, air hockey.

“I’m listening.” A smooth tone filled every letter you said, making his skin filled with goosebumps.

He dug into his pockets, pulling out the change he had previously gotten from the bartender so you could use it and putting it in the side of the machine. One flat hockey disc fell, and he placed it on his side.

“Let’s make it a challenge.”

“What do you mean?”

James, the man whore seductress he always was, began uncuffing his sleeves off, folding them up until they reached right below his elbow. At first you would’ve thought of it as a way to get himself comfortable for the game, but the way he leaned over the table, his muscles popping discreetly against his shirt and his eyes burning you with something you were familiar with, you knew it was intentional.

“If any of us score a point, we get to ask a question to the other person , whatever it is, and we have to answer it, no bullshit allowed.”

Bucky was tempting you the same way he used to do it. He had something in mind he wanted to ask, and he was fishing for an in. He knew how to sweet-talk to you to give in, he knew how attractive he was, and he had learned what worked on you to the tea. James knew what he was doing just as much as you knew it, and that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was how much you wanted to give in.

“No bullshit, huh?” You asked, downing the rest of your drink before grabbing the mallet in your hand. If James Buchanan Barnes knew something was how to bring excitement to your life. You missed that. “Alright, ready to tell me your deepest, darkest secrets?”

He chuckled at your words, an ever so attractive smirk placing in his lips as he moved medium length hair away from his face. “Overconfidence is going to be your downfall, angel.”

Ah, there it was again. Angel.

He was trying, you could give him that. He really was trying. He knew that nickname always made your heart race faster. Sure, it wasn’t the most original one, people had called you that before, but it the way he said it that made it special.

He always made you feel special.

“It’s not overconfidence, old man. It’s just a fact.”

“Hey, fuck you. I’m only a year older than you.” You gave him a blank stare, knowing fully aware that wasn’t what you meant. “Besides, people say I have an old soul.”

And with that, the game started.

He took you by surprise, the little shit. A hard swipe, and the disk went zigzagging through the table until it got past your guard. The sound of the disk falling back for you to pick it up finally reached your ears before you could even process what was going on.

“That was cheating!” You argued, picking the disc back up.

James shrugged. “What? Now that I score a point, you're going to call it cheating?” He started to shake his head. “Such a sore loser.”

Ok, alright. He wanted to play like that, you could play the same.

“Fine.” You grunted. “Ask away.”

He took his time, a couple of seconds in, and you could see the question forming in his mind. Your heart pumped against your chest so rapidly, anticipation building up at what he was going to say.

“What was the first thing you thought when you saw me again?"

“Uh,” you stammered, You weren’t sure what you were expecting him to ask, but it still took you aback. “That’s your first question?”

James shrugged. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, I thought you looked more mature.”

“You mean old?” He questioned, half offended.

"No,” you chuckled. “Mature in the sense that I can’t see that same childishness I used to see all over your face ever since I met you.” You threw back the disk in the table and shot it with your mallet, the disk zigzagging all over the table. Bucky’s reflexes were good though, he blocked it right as it was about to go through and the next round began. “A part of me expected to see the same smug, cocky smile that followed me all through college but with a couple of wrinkles, maybe even a few gray hairs.” He chuckled. “But it’s not there. Well, it’s still there, but not in the same ‘I’m Bucky Barnes, I’m a total 10 and I know it and I definitely think I’m the hottest shit around’ type of way” You paused for a second, before almost whispering. “I was glad it isn’t there anymore.”

For a moment his eyes left the table and went to see your face. You thought for a second your words might’ve offended him, but the smile plastered all over his face brought relief to you.

“I was that annoying, huh?” he chuckled.

“Just a little bit.” You shrugged.

With an abrupt movement, you stopped the black circle and looked directly at him. Blue eyes looked at you confused until he saw the coy smile on your lips, your eyes looking deeper into him and making his spine shiver.

You gave him “the eyes.”.

“I also thought I almost forgot how good you look when you wear blue.” You told him before sliding the disk right across the table.

Score.

Not only could you play the same game as him, you could play it better.

After all, it was you that made the first move that night.

“Are you sure we can go up there this late?” You questioned as the imposing building in front of you two seemed locked for the night.

Bucky’s hand squeezed yours harder while still guiding you towards it. “Trust me, I’ve spent my fare share of nights here.”

He knocked on the glass doors, as they were already blocked at this time of the night. A man dressed in a security guard outfit came close to the door, a tired smile on his face.

“I’m starting to think you don’t actually own a house, Mr. Barnes.” He joked while searching between his keys.

The security guards comment made him chuckle. “What can I say, Jeff? There’s nothing like the smell of a copy machine to put me to sleep.”

“I can tell.” Jeff let you in, closing the door quickly behind you. “And I see you brought some company this time.”

You smiled at him shyly, extending your hand to introduce you as you told him your name. “It’s nice to meet you, Jeff.”

“Nice to meet you too, maybe you can convince this one to stop sleeping here every once in a while.”

“I’ll try my best.” You smiled at him.

After a few more inoffensive jabs from Jeff, you and Bucky made your way towards the elevator, the doors closing as you waved goodbye to the old, gray-haired man. You chuckled one last time at his jokes, and you laid against the wall. There was something about this building that you couldn’t shake off, the layout seeming all too familiar, scratching the back of your mind, but you weren’t able to see why.

“Have I been here before?” You told him.

He turned around with that playful smile he always had, and your heart skipped a beat. His eyes looked at you, and you could tell his mind went to the past, a memory he seemed to treasure.

“I’m surprised it took you so long to recognize it.”

“I don’t remember it, it just seems familiar.”

A small flash of disappointment crossed his blue eyes, and it made you feel a little guilty, but his little smile stayed the same.

“Maybe once we reach the top you’ll remember.” He told you, his fingers sliding between yours once the door opened.

You walked through the hallways of the office space, a lonely desk welcoming you both with a big plaque behind it that read “Rogers & Barnes” with golden letters. He had told you about his partnership with Steve, but having actually seen it made you realize how real it was.

Bucky deserved it; they both did. Everything they had worked for they had earned it with sweat, blood, and tears, and if there was anyone that had ever deserved success, it was both of them.

You kept walking, turning in some hallways and walking up some flights of stairs, passing conference rooms, what seemed to be a communal eating space, and office floors filled with computers and documents. Your journey came to an end once you reached a door, his name engraved on the dark chocolate wooden door.

Once you were inside, you left your coat on one of the three deep blue couches that occupied the center of the room.

“I’ll be right back.” He said before turning around and leaving you alone.

You took your time admiring the place. His desk, big and magnificent, looked clean and professional—not a single paper out of place. On the sides of the room there were bookshelves, some of them filled with books, others with binders of what you assumed was important documentation. However, what caught your eye was the pictures displaying on them.

There was one of Steve and him, both dressed up, and the golden sign in the entrance behind them. You assumed it was taken when they had opened the office, a big, almost juvenile expression on their faces. The next one was one of him with his old college football team, you saw similar faces popping up, Thor, Sam, Clint, Tony, Pietro, Steve, even young Peter was in it. They were all sweating, but the grins on their faces made you think this was after one of the games they had won.

You expected to see pictures from before, but you never thought you would see your own face in them. Almost all of the group pictures that showed all of you had him next to you, his arm around your shoulders or your waist, his grip pressing you against him. In all of them, you were both happy, except one of them caught your eye. It was a normal group picture on the surface, but this time his eyes weren’t on the camera taking the picture.

His eyes were on you.

“Having fun?” His words broke you out of your thoughts. You turned around, his hands holding two glasses and a bottle of scotch.

“Just looking at your collection of mementos.” You answered, leaving the picture in its rightful place.

You accepted the drink, taking a small sip of it as the bitter taste reached your tongue.

“So, you still don’t recognize it?” he questioned.

You shook your head. “Nope, I got no idea where we are.”

He guided you to the big glass wall to the side of his desk, and you saw it, overwhelmingly beautiful and majestic. The city looked bright, colored vibrating lights filling the scene while skyscrapers rose above everything, its architecture set in a messy yet harmonious display.

“What a view.” Was the only thing you were able to say, your hand reaching to touch the glass.

“Now look over there.” He pointed to your left.

Your eyes squinted, trying to search for whatever it was that he was trying to show you, but the darkness of the night didn’t help at all.

“On that tall building, under the light.”

You scanned the scenery, this time more carefully, until you finally found it. Your heart pounded against your chest, the tears almost filling your eyes instantly. That old brown wall was lit up by a single lamp, but its brightness was enough for you to read the graffiti on it.

If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.

Once sentence, and you were twenty-two again.

Tony’s party had been more fun than you had thought. When he had invited you all to the inauguration of this building, his building, you guessed it would be filled with pompous and uptight rich people. Maybe there would be boring classical music in the background and the menu would be entirely of caviar, Iberic ham, and some weird meat like kangaroo steak or something like that.

You should’ve known better than that.

Tony Stark, the only heir to the Stark fortune, was known for his rebellious ways. If he was throwing a party, it would definitely be wild; it didn’t matter what the setting was. So, in true Tony Starks style, the party ended up being a music and alcohol fest, to his father's dismay. Most of the attendees were his “party friends,"  with the exception of his parents and a few of their friends, and what was supposed to be a dull night ended up almost being a college party.

You and your friends had fun dancing, drinking, and laughing in the best clothes you owned. For you, it had been a green sequin dress you had the fortune to have found in a thrift store, as being a college student didn’t really allow you to spend hundreds of dollars on a dress. Bucky's suit had been an old deep blue one his mother had bought him for when his sister got married.

He looks amazing, you thought to yourself.

She looks breathtaking, he thought to himself.

He had spent the whole night by your side, as this had been one of your “good streaks,” as you called them. Neither of you had started a fight in a while, there hadn’t been any angry calls, tears, or ignoring each other, nor was there any jealousy, petty revenge, or hooking up with strangers. The last three were the worst; those usually happened when shit hit the fan, more often than not, and would leave you with an empty feeling after the storm had cleared.

Fortunately, this night instead had been filled with dancing, kisses, and lingering touches that would make you feel as in the highest of clouds. You loved the way his lips would kiss your neck, or how his fingers would caress your face, one of his hands in the back of your neck. You loved the kisses, how his lips tasted, the smell of his cologne, and the way his hair would fall on top of his eyes. You loved the way he smiled when he looked at you, how when he started to notice you, you were overwhelmed by everyone around and took you to explore the new but somewhat empty hallways.

You loved the way he made you laugh.

You loved the way he always knew how to say the right thing, even when everything else was bad.

You loved the way he made you feel.

You loved that you felt safe.

You loved— You loved—

You loved hi—

“Let’s go, around here.” Bucky pulled you with one hand, the other holding a bottle of champagne.

After a couple of minutes more, you finally found an empty office, all the way back into the room. An impressive big glass wall on the side of the office lets you see the whole city at night. It was beautiful.

Bucky took out his jacket, putting it on the floor so both of you could sit on top of it. After settling down, he opened the bottle, the cork flying behind you. The both of you stayed there for a while, your heads resting against his shoulder while you passed around the bottle.

“Could you imagine having an office like this?”

You chuckled. “Only if I win the lottery. Or marry a rich guy.”

“Too bad I’m broke.” He retorted, taking a sip.

His words took you aback, once again. Bucky had a tendency of saying things like that, and you weren’t sure how they made you feel. Sure, you could clearly see a future with him, but that wasn’t what you had agreed on. After that first night, you had agreed you were better as friends, but the next weekend ended with the two of you sleeping together again, and you decided that perhaps adding some benefits would be the best. Always friends, but never more.

Then why would he always say things like that?

You stood up, coming close to the crystal wall in an attempt to escape the overwhelming thoughts that plagued you once you thought about your "situationship." After a few seconds, he stood up too, placing himself to your right.

“I would like to work in a place half as nice as this.”

“Maybe you can ask Tony to give you family and friends a discount."

Your retort was met with a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, right, even then I’d have to sell one of my kidneys to be able to afford one month's rent.”

“I’d tell you to sell your liver after, but with how much you drink, it’s probably already damaged goods.”

He laughed. He always looked so beautiful when he laughed.

Why were things so simple yet so simple with him? Why was being friends with him so complicated? You wanted more, you knew that he wanted more, but for some reason neither of you would say it. None of you were brave enough to say it.

Maybe the bad things about your “situationship” would go away once you were together. Maybe if you finally decided to take the first step, whether you felt ready or not, then the things that he did that broke your heart would stop. Maybe you would also stop trying to break his in return.

“I—”

Before you could even get one full word out, he interrupted you.

“What the fuck?”

His eyes were looking at some of the buildings below, an amused expression on his face.

“What?”

“Down there, there’s a guy doing graffiti.” He pointed.

You scanned the buildings over where he pointed, thankful that your eyesight was good enough to be able to spot a person with a red hoodie painting on a big wall that he had just covered with a lot of strokes of blue, purple, and pink, all of them mixing together to form what looked like a galaxy. He had just started to paint something on top of it, so his body was blocking the progress he had made, but you could tell he was writing something.

“What do you think he’s writing?” You asked him, your eyes fixated on the stranger.

“Something that will make us question the meaning of life.” He stated in an all-too-serious tone. “Or maybe he’s just writing his name.”

You chuckled. “Maybe he’s writing something like ‘peace’ or ‘love’, something nice.”

“Or, hear me out, something about being chill or keeping it real.”

After a few minutes of brainstorming options, Bucky pointed out the stranger had finished. After a few seconds of squinting your eyes, you saw the white letters that were still dripping with the freshness of the paint, and it read:

‘If it’s meant to be, it’ll be.’

Your eyes welled up with tears.

You were sure things were meant to be with him, but you weren’t ready to say them out loud. Not when you were so scared. Not when you couldn’t even tell him how you felt. Not when you couldn’t even bring to think those three words that would linger in your brain.

Not when a small part of you hated him when things were bad.

Instead of risking it all, you grabbed the bottle from his hands, taking a sip of it and rasing your pinky finger. “Let’s make a promise.”

His finger held yours.

“About what?”

“That no matter what, we’ll always be friends.”

“I thought that was implied already.” He joked.

“Promise it.”

His grip got tighter.

“I promise. Until death do us apart.”

And with that, he pulled towards himself, his arm around your shoulder as you both looked at the city lights.

“And who knows, maybe once you graduate you’ll get a good job, save some money, and have your own firm here. Or maybe get Tony to be your sugar daddy and gift you the whole building.”

He chortled. “Only if you promise you’ll stop by once in a while to have lunch with me.” He kissed you at the top of your head before continuing. “And to help me break things up with him after he signs the deal.”

“Promise.”

As life would have it, every promise you made each other was broken.

“How?” You questioned him, still taken aback.

“When Steve and I were planning on opening our own place together, we couldn’t find a good place to rent, so Tony offered us a space here.”

“He offered you this office?”

“Well, not this one exactly. I asked him if we could get this one.”

You didn’t utter a word for a couple of minutes, the silence of the office drowning you. A thousand questions ran through your mind as you processed what he said. Only after you were sure you could speak, you let out one word.

“Why?”

Bucky's eyes changed, the creases in the corners of his eyes pulled them down, and his eyes were clouded with a sadness you weren’t sure how to describe.

“You know why.” He whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

Heartbreak.

That’s what you saw in his eyes.

A heartbreak that you thought you had left behind so many years ago.

You took a sip of your drink, hoping the burning of the alcohol would take away the knot in your throat.

“Well, that realization came in a little too late, didn’t it?” You remarked. You sounded bitter, it wasn’t intentional, but your mouth seemed to be acting before you could stop it.

“Yeah, I guess it did.” He muttered.

Why did he have to bring this up? Why couldn’t you just keep pretending like you were catching up as if you were just old friends who hadn’t seen each other in a while? Why couldn't you just keep pretending?

You left the glass on his desk and grabbed your coat.

“It’s late; I should probably go back to my hotel. I gotta prepare for my interview.”

“Don’t leave yet, please.” He begged.

He grabbed your hand, his touch breaking your heart once again. You didn’t move away from it though, you weren’t sure you were able to hold yourself together if you broke apart. You didn’t want to break apart. He came closer to you, his hand going to your waist as the other one wiped away the stray tears that scaped your eyes.

Bucky’s eyes looked at your lips before turning his attention to your eyes. He wanted to kiss you, he craved it like a madman in a dessert that hadn’t had water in weeks. He needed to kiss you, but he was still looking for something in you that would stop him. The sound of your coat dropping on the floor and your hand on top of his was the answer he needed.

His lips tasted like scotch and longing. Your arms surrounded his neck in an attempt to bring him closer to you. You could feel his heartbeat against your skin, the desperation of his touch as his hand pushed the back of your head to him. The kiss wasn’t pretty to watch either, but you liked it this way. It was messy and hurried, but you could feel everything he felt.

The side of you you had buried half a decade ago was crawling back to the surface, it’s claws filled with love, passion, admiration, and all the good things that came with Bucky. But it also brought everything that was unfinished, all the fights, the pain, and worst of all, all the resentment that you had never spoken about.

It was all at once.

And it was too much.

“No.” You pushed him away.

You needed to get out. You needed to run away.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I loved you before.” His voice was rushed, he knew his time with you was coming to an end. “I was an idiot, I was scared—“

“I don’t want to hear it.” You bent down to grab your things, but your belongings had come out of the pockets, your purse spilling its contents.

“— and for the past six years the only thing that’s been in my head is that I should’ve told you that day how much I loved you—”

“Stop.” You were trying to pick up everything.

“—and I know I should’ve went after you, I should’ve apologized for everything I did to you—”

“Stop it.”

“—but I was a coward. I’m still a coward because that’s the first thing I should’ve done when I saw you. But I’m here now because—”

“No.”

“— I still love you,—”

“Stop.”

“—I never stopped loving you—”

“Fucking stop!”

Your scream resounded in the office, the echo bouncing off the walls. Your words made him back away, as if you had burned him.

“Just—” your voice cracked, the tears prickling your eyes. “Just stop.”

He took a step forward, his hands hesitantly moving towards you, but you slapped them away.

“Why are you telling me this? Why now?”

For a few seconds, he remained silent as if he didn’t know either.

“Because I lied. That night you left my apartment, I lied when I said that I didn’t want the same thing as you.”

“You alright? You sounded weird over the phone.” Bucky asked as he opened the door.

Your hands were shaking with anticipation, your heart beating against your chest so quickly you thought you were about to have a heart attack.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You answered as you made your way to the couch, your hands gripping on the side of it in an attempt to calm down.

His steps echoed behind you, the sound of a glass clinging was followed by running water.

“You want anything to drink?” he offered.

“No thanks.”

"Ok, just give me a sec, and I’ll be with you.”

You assumed he was doing the dishes by the amount of noise he was making. Bucky had always been a loud person, this being a clear example. A somewhat annoying  charm of his that right now was calming enough to make your pulse settle, at least enough to let go of the poor couch.

Instead, you just rested your hands on the side, caressing the fabric. Your whole focus on it until you felt a change in the texture. You looked at your hand, almost in between the cushions, and saw something that looked and felt like lace. As you pulled it out, you recognized it was underwear.

It wasn’t your underwear.

Don’t think about it, you said to yourself.

Someone else was here.

Don’t think about it.

Who was it?

Don’t think about it.

Was it Dolores again?

Don’t.

Think.

About.

It.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” He said behind you.

Quickly, you put the underwear back in its place, tucking it. He sat next to you, his back reclined.

The next few minutes were a blur in your mind. Sure, you had prepared a speech that you had gone over and over again until you had seen all possible scenarios and you had prepared for every possible answer he could have. What you didn’t expect was for you to black out while doing it, only remembering a few sentences.

“I know we said that we would leave things be, that we were good as just friends, but from the very beginning I’ve wanted to be with you, not just as friends. You make me happy, you make me feel safe, you make me feel alive.”

“You have become the only one in my heart, I can’t feel like this for anyone else. I don’t want to feel like this for anyone else.”

“Things haven’t been exactly light and breezy as we expected, but I know that we can be better. We can be good. It’s not too late for us.”

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the very beginning. And I think I will always love you.”

You knew things were over. What gave it away wasn’t the fact that he remained silent, letting both of you simmer in the echo of your words, it wasn’t either that his body had positioned as far away as the couch could allow it, with him almost sitting in its arm.

It was the eyes. The cloudiness in them, along with a mixture of emotions that were happening too fast for you to process. For a millisecond, there was a tenderness that made your heart melt. He wanted it too, you were sure.

That was until you saw the fear.

“I—I can’t.”

Two words and your world shattered.

“What?”

He stood up, beginning to pace back and forth. The fear that you had seen was being replaced with anger.

“We agreed to be just friends. You even said it was for the best.” He argued

“I wasn’t being honest. I was afraid.” You tried to reason with him, but he wasn’t listening. “I was afraid that you didn’t want it, or that this could ruin our friendship.”

“And this isn’t going to ruin us?”

It hurt. He must’ve seen it so he went up to you, his hands cupping your face.

“We are better off being like this.  I’ve never wanted a relationship, and neither have you, and you know it. We care about each other, and sure, we sleep together, but that’s what works out for us. What’s so wrong about being friends who sleep with each other?”

You didn’t answer for a while, your heart trembling in your chest.

“You…” Your voice was barely above a whisper, your throat closing as you fought the tears that wanted to escape your eyes. “You don’t love me?”

His forehead touched yours before answering. “Of course I love you. You have become one of the most important people in my life, and I lo– I can’t explain the way you make me feel. But this is not about that, I can’t love you the way you want me to love you. What we have is good, why can’t that be enough?”

He loved you but didn’t want to love you. Why?

Because your love was never good enough. That’s why there’s someone else’s underwear stuffed between the cushions. 

You scoffed at him, pulling yourself apart. “Good? You mean is good for you because you get to fuck me and anything that walks without feeling guilty?”

Your words were venomous. You wanted to hurt him, you wanted him to feel like you. And above all, you wanted to win, you wanted him to hurt more than you.

He turned around, looking as if you had just slapped him.

“Don’t fucking start.”

“I mean, that’s all you care about, isn’t it?” You pulled out the underwear and threw it to his face, a shocking expression as he grabbed it with his hand before throwing it away.

“Where did you get that?”

“It was in the fucking couch.” You threw him one of his couch cushions. “Let me guess, Dolores?” you asked, bitterly.

His lack of answer was enough.

You laughed sarcastically. "You’re fucking pathetic, you know that? Honestly, it’s getting really sad to watch you grovel around that upper class bitch, hoping her daddy will let you get an interview in his firm. At least have some self-respect and accept the fact that no matter how many times you screw her, you’re never going to get out of the shithole you were born in.” You got close to his face, so close you could feel his breath on you.

His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white. He was angrier than you had ever seen him before, but the pain in his eyes was the thing that you noticed the most. You had hurt him where it hurt the most.

Good.

Except he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“At least I’m not the one that came here expecting something more out of this because I’m the only man that has stuck long enough in your life and didn’t just fuck you and leave. Now that’s fucking pathetic.”

Silence. He regretted the moment the words left his mouth as your eyes clouded with tears, but he couldn’t say sorry, not after what he said.

This was the end.

It was always meant to end this way.

“I never meant any of the things I said that night.” Bucky pleaded.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. We can’t change the past.”

You walked away from him, opting instead to look at the city lights outside of the window. Your own reflection welcomed you at the same time, tears ruining what once had been a nicely applied makeup. Dark speckles covered the top of your cheeks; your eyeliner was almost gone, with the puffiness starting to settle instead.

This image seemed way too familiar; the last time you saw it was almost six years ago.

Bucky walked behind you.

“I’m sorry.”

A bitter laugh came out of you unexpectedly. Things never really change, do they?

You whipped your tears away, suddenly feeling as if you had run a marathon. The weight of everything made you think you weren’t going to make it past the doors of the building.

“I’ve heard that before.”

You turned around, little droplets streaming down his face.

“I love you.” His voice trembled.

You came close to him, your hands whipping away his tears.

“And what good has that done to us?”

If you hadn’t been so drowning in the sense of despair that didn’t seem to want to leave you, you might’ve found it funny the fact that every time you were in this room you ended up with a broken heart.

Your words had seemed to leave Bucky speechless as he only stared at you while a thousand thoughts ran through his mind, his eyes coming to the realization that you were right. What good is love when the only thing that you get out of it is pain?

His forehead was warm when you placed a kiss on it, but his body was still not moving. His breath hitched for a second when you cupped his pace, his eyes finally staring at you, empty.

Familiar arms wrapped around you, his arms encasing you in an embrace that yelled misery, a misery that could almost be compared to yours. Your legs started giving in, the imaginary weight of the situation taking a toll on you like nothing before.

People say that the way to stop hating someone is forgiveness. You had healed, you had reflected, and you had learned and forgiven. You had been right before when you said you didn’t hate him anymore; no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t hate him forever.

You knew how to forgive.

But how do you stop loving someone who's hurt you as much as you have them?

“I still love you too,” your lips trembled, a bitter sensation placing on your throat. “Why do I still love you?”

You trapped your love for so long you had convinced yourself it was gone along with the hate. It was only natural, wasn’t it? You had fooled yourself, though. It was always there, burning deep in you along with all the pain it had brought with itself, and now that you allowed yourself to admit it, it came in as if it were the first day.

“I don’t know,” he whispered against your lips. The warmth of his hand against your face made you yearn for a different outcome. “But not even thousands of miles between us and a hundred years could make me forget about you. Nothing can.”

His eyes looked at yours, desperately as if the words were rushing out of his mouth, running out of time.

“Nothing.”

You kissed him.

You kissed him with hunger.

You kissed him with anger.

You kissed him violently, desperately, passionately.

You kissed him with love.

His hands reached back to your zipper with a movement so quick you didn’t know how your dress ended up on the floor. Your chest was exposed as the dress you were wearing couldn’t be worn with a bra. The desire in his eyes made you shudder; his pupils had seemed to grow, and the look on them seemed almost animalistic.

You were like a drug to him, and this was the first time in years he had seen you like this.

Who were you to deny him when he looked at you like that?

You were never a romantic when it came to sex. The slow kisses, the soft touches, and the caresses were never your thing. You craved for the roughness, the possessiveness, and the fire. You were never a romantic when it came to sex, but with Bucky, there was always a layer of care, even in the roughest of times. His eyes always looked at you with a softness that made your heart pound against your chest.

Perhaps sex was never pretty whenever you two were together, but it sure as hell felt amazing.

Somehow his clothes were on the floor along with yours, both of you using them as a way to avoid the coldness of the tile. His hands dragged along your skin, his touch burning you with passion as they made their way down to your underwear. You were thankful you had chosen a semi-sexy pair of black panties instead of the almost grandma but extremely comfortable ones you had thought of. His lips went for your neck, nibbling just a little in the right spot to make your thighs clench.

A part of Bucky was relieved that he hadn’t forgotten how to touch you. He remembered the spot on your neck, right below your ear, that made you shiver. He remembered the way you liked when he toyed with you, his fingers just barely brushing against your slit over your panties. Your nails scratched his arm, a confirmation for him that you needed more of him.

Bites and licks traveled down your body, invading your senses. Your hands pulled on his hair hard, guiding him to kiss you again as your hands pulled down the edge of his boxers. You couldn’t take him anymore; you needed him now.

You both looked like teenagers, fighting to get out of the final remnant of your clothes while looking desperate to finally be able to fuck. In any other situation, you would’ve laughed at the sight of it, but now there was nothing you could think of more than having Bucky inside you.

Perhaps deep down you were still those dumb teenagers.

His fingers played with your clit, drawing slow and dragged circles that overloaded all your nerve endings. He knew the pace you liked, the muscle memory acting by itself. In return, yours also acted the same, drawing small little circles on the top of his cock. His breath hitched once your finger dragged along the vein of his cock.

One of his hands went to your neck, pressing slightly hard.

“You missed this, didn’t you?” He whispered against your ear. You couldn’t talk, the hand on your neck making sure of that, so you nodded. “I missed this too, angel.”

His fingers made their way inside you, your wetness letting them go inside easily as he reached inside for that little spot you loved so much. You couldn’t control the moans that came out of your mouth, and you were thankful there wasn’t anyone else on this floor.

You were getting close, your thighs clenching along with your walls, but his fingers left you once you were on the edge. You opened your eyes to look at him, anger clear on them, but you just saw him placing himself between your legs, his body on top of yours.

He was bigger than you remembered, his cock sliding into you slowly, allowing you to take your time to get used to him. You were waiting for the hard thrusts as soon as he knew you were ready, but instead he cupped one on your cheeks.

He kissed you.

He kissed you, but it wasn’t like before.

It wasn’t filled only with lust, dominance, and passion.

His lips tasted sweeter, his touch seemed warmer, but most importantly, his feelings were different.

He was kissing you with so much love it was almost overwhelming. He wasn’t stopping himself from showing it anymore; he allowed himself for the first time to be honest with you, but above all with himself.

He loved you.

He loved you intentionally and wholeheartedly.

He loved you eternally.

The sunrise shine began to make its way above the darkness. A couple of glasses with whiskey and a packet of crackers lay in front as you covered yourselves with a blanket he kept for when he stayed.

His fingers were drawing lazy circles on your skin as you were playing with his hair. A few stray kisses would sometimes land in your cheek, making you giggle like a teenager.

“Angel,” He called your attention, his eyes looking nervous. Your mind raced as you waited for him to find the words he wanted to say.

Maybe he was about to say it was a mistake. Maybe he had a girlfriend he hadn’t told you about. Maybe he was trying to kick you out.

Thought after thought flooded your mind until he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

His words took you by surprise.

“I–“

“Wait,” he interrupted you. “I need to say this before chicken out again.”

You nodded, unsure of how you felt.

“Remember the first time we met?” He asked, a warm smile placed on his lips. You nodded again, the same smile on yours. “I don’t think I’ve told you this, but I was ready to make a move on you as soon as I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Well, Nat kind of warned me not to try anything. I didn’t really matter anyway; if anything, it made you seem more enticing.”

He chuckled as you rolled your eyes. Bucky was always Bucky.

“Anyways, when I first got to the bar, you were with Wanda and Nat while you were doing shots with them, and Wanda said something that made you laugh, and you ended up spitting your drink all over me as I was about to introduce myself.”

The once uncomfortable moment had lost its awkwardness and was now a funny memory to you.

“I don’t blame you for not sleeping with me after that; having tequila in my eyes would really put me out of the mood too.”

He chuckled.

“It wasn’t great, but it didn’t really put me off.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He said as he played with your hair. “You took me to the bathroom and helped me clean my eyes on the sink, and you started to say the most outlandish shit ever.”

The cringe got in you, your body slightly retracting itself as you remembered everything you said.

“I was drunk and nervous. Besides, I thought you might sue me because Nat told me you were a law student.”

“I considered it.” He joked. “I knew I liked you from that very moment.” He whispered, almost as if he were doing it with fear. “I never met anyone that made me laugh like that; even when it felt like my eyes were melting out of their sockets, all I could do was laugh at everything you said.”

Your hand reached to his chest, trying to give him the push he needed to keep going.

“I also remember the moment I realized I loved you. Remember that fight we had at Quentin’s party?”

“Which one?”

“The one with John Walker.”

“What are you even getting angry about?” He yelled as he chased you.

You were fighting against a sea of drunk college students, and the more you fought, the more you found yourself being pushed around. You heard him behind you, calling your name, but you had no intention of hearing him. You weren’t even sure why you were so angry, but you knew that you had to get away from him.

His arm finally reached you, dragging you to the side.

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

“What the fuck is your problem?” The smell of beer hit your nostrils as soon as he spoke. It was strong—almost too strong.

You shook off his hand.

“My problem is that you supposedly left to get me a drink, and then when I go looking for you, you’re getting all cozy with Dolores, and you just forgot about me.”

He rolled his eyes.

“She stopped me to talk; what was I going to do? Ignore her?”

“Maybe. But what you don’t do is tell me you’re going to be back and disappear for forty minutes.”

“Are you mad because I didn’t come back or because I was talking to Dot?”

Dot.

What a fucking asshole.

“I don’t care who you talk to, but you don’t leave your supposedly best friend stranded like that.”

“Well, sorry for thinking that my best friend was a grown woman that could take care of herself. I didn’t know you needed me to be by your side all the time.”

He didn’t mean that. He shouldn’t have left you alone in a party this big, not when it was only the two of you out of your friend group.

“Then why the fuck you brought me here if you were just going to fuck off as soon as we got here? You’re basically the only one I know here.”

“Then go make some friends.” He should’ve stopped there. If he hadn’t been drunk, maybe he would’ve just said sorry, and you two could’ve had a good time. Unfortunately, his brain and his mouth would sometimes lose against his own stupidity. “Maybe you’ll even find someone that’ll take that stick out of your ass too.”

Your eyes watered for a second, but you were never going to let him see you cry.

“Fuck you.” You muttered before submerging yourself in the sea of people again.

You drank.

The more you drank, the angrier you got. And the angrier you got, the more you wanted to hurt him and forget.

The next time Bucky saw you, you were on top of John Walker, your mouth against his as his hands squeezed your ass.

“When I saw you with him,“ his voice faltered. “It hurt. I thought it hurt because you were with fucking John Walker and I fucking hated his guts, but it wasn’t just that. Even if you had been with a random guy I’ve never seen before, it would’ve still hurt the same.”

“Bucky…” You try to apologize, but he’s quick enough to stop you.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. It’s my fault how all of this ended. If I had been honest with myself about you, then none of this would’ve happened. I have loved you for so long I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to not love you, and now that I have finally said it, I don’t think I want to forget, even if we are not together.”

You didn’t say a word, not sure that you would be able to talk without breaking down, but when you saw his eyes, you couldn’t stop it.

“We hurt each other so much, didn’t we?” He nodded, a sad chuckle along with it.

The irony of it. Love could conquer everything, except the pain that you had caused each other.

“I’m sorry too.” You whispered. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for wanting to hurt you.”

His arm went over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly against him.

“I’m sorry for disappearing; I know it hurt you when I left. Steve tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen, but I could see he was worried.”

“It was rough.” He hesitated to answer, not wanting to make you feel worse about it.

“I’m sorry for everything.”

His lips kissed the top of your head, both of you turning to see the sunrise.

“I forgave you a long time ago.” He whispered. “Can you forgive me?”

You smiled as you squeezed his hand. “I forgave you a long time ago too.”

You didn’t say anything for a while, deciding on just taking in the view of the city that was once your home. And just like that, sitting on the floor with Bucky at your side, you finally felt your heart truly healing.

“I missed this.” He said.

“Me too.”

“We should’ve taken a cab.” He said, watching you walk uncomfortably.

“And miss the opportunity to get this fucking deliciousness? No fucking way.” You take another big bite of your bagel, squeezing it a little too hard and making the side push out the cream cheese. “Besides, we’re almost there.”

After a couple more blocks of walking, talking, and eating, you finally reach your hotel. Once you get to the steps, you hop out of the uncomfortable heels that had been punishing your feet for the whole walk, a sigh of relief so loud it made Bucky laugh.

“Well, this is my stop.” You gesture towards the building behind you.

“Yeah.”

A certain heavyness settles on both. You don’t want to say goodbye.

“I didn’t even ask you, how long are you staying for?”

“A couple of days more. I still need to catch up with everyone else.”

“Good, good.”

He’s the one to hug you first. His arms around your waist pushed you against him, the small remnants of his cologne filling your nostrils. Your arms clung on to him, clutching him in between them.

Minutes went by, and you were the first one to let go as you kissed his cheek.

“Don’t be a stranger.” You said.

You walked up the steps towards the entrance of the hotel, your mind just now processing everything that had happened that night. You never thought you would talk to him again, let alone spend a whole night with him.

It was a good night.

It was a good goodbye.

Your hand reached out to open the door to the lobby, but Bucky called your name. You turned around, not sure what he was going to say.

“Do you think you could love me one last time?”

You smiled at him. The so-ever dramatic and romantic Bucky Barnes had never changed. He laughed along with you, knowing you found him a little ridiculous.

“I’ll see you around Jamie.” You said as you turned around.

None of you were sure what was next. Maybe it was best if you stayed friends and rebuilt the relationship you both had tainted so badly. Or maybe this was a new opportunity for something that could be the best thing of your lives, or perhaps it was the last time you saw each other. Whatever it was, you were sure of one thing. You were never going to lie about your feelings again, and neither would he.

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated! Feel free to message me about it.

[takamiwife]

As christmas is approaching and I constantly see videos of people doing the angel tree shopping for kids in needs of toys and everything I feel like hawks would loove to participate in it bc you know of his past and I'd like to request hawks and reader going shopping and gifting the kids🥰😊 It would be adorable

I LOVEEE THESE VIDEOS omg they r my FAV !!

also, happy holidays everyone! i hope whatever you may celebrate is wonderful 💙

but yes i completely agree that he would go way overboard

in the hustle and bustle of the festively-decorated mall, you made your way inside with keigo, brushing the snow off your jacket as you took your phone out, pulling up the lists of your family members.

“i swear, my niece thinks i’m the one with the amex black card.. she asked me for those stupid seven hundred dollar headphones. headphones, of all things! i might as well buy her front row concert tickets!” you huff

keigo laughs, shaking the snow out of his wings.

“baby, i told you that i want to help buy your family’s gifts. if those, albeit expensive, headphones are what she wants, i’ll buy them.”

“you’re too sweet for your own good.” you shake your head. after a momentary disruption to take pictures with fans, you two continue on, stopping to look at a large christmas tree.

“oh, they have the angel tree up!” you hum, looking at the tags stuck onto the tree.

“angel tree?” keigo asked, leaning over your shoulder.

“yep! basically, a local charity gets christmas lists from kids whose families aren’t able to afford much, and then people can pick them off the list and fill it for them. i’ve been doing it the past few years. sweet, isn’t it?” you explain, reading through the different cards.

keigo walks around the tree, looking at all the white tags stuck onto the tree.

as the two of you browsed, a nearby woman in a red blouse approached. short black hair and kind blue eyes, she appeared to be in her early fifties.

“hawks! what an honor it is to have you looking at our angel tree!” she grinned.

“oh, yea, my girlfriend was just showing it to me,” e smiled warmly. “i think it’s a great thing that you guys do this.”

“oh, it’s our pleasure. everyone deserves to have a happy christmas, right?” she clasps her hands together. “actually… could i ask you something?”

keigo nodded, still looking through the tags.

“well, normally we just hand them out to the families ourselves when they come to pick them up, but… the kids would love if the number two hero gave them their gifts.” she said, hope dripping in her tone.

“oh.. like, you’d want.. me to hand them out to them?”

“i think that’s exactly what she said, honey” you say, biting back your smile.

“yes, i understand if you’re too busy, but it would only be a few hours next saturday.. we give them to them early so the kids can enjoy having presents under the tree.”

“next saturday..” keigo tapped his chin. “i’m sure i can swing it.”

“oh, thank you hawks!” the woman grinned, immediately gratefully shaking his hand. “thank you, thank you! the kids will be so happy!”

“i’ll do my best.” he nods.

the woman steps away. “well, i’ll leave you two to your shopping. just be here, say.. eleven a.m.?”

“eleven o’clock next saturday, you got it.”

keigo turned back to you, who had a wide smile and even wider, glossy eyes.

“that is so sweet!” you squeak out.

“tell me you’re not about to cry..” he groaned with a chuckle.

“i can’t help it! you’re just gonna make the kids so happyy-yyy-yyy!” you whine, tears pouring down your cheeks.

“c’mere, you crybaby.” he smiled, pulling you against his chest. “please don’t stain my shirt. we both know how hard it is to get all your eye makeup out.” he stroked your hair.

you pull away, carefully dabbing your eyes with your fingers, fanning yourself.

“i’m okay, i’m okay,” you sigh. “now, it’s time to do what i’m best at. shopping.” you grin deviously.

you two plucked four tags off the tree. a boy and a girl for each of you. you two went to the toy store first, of course. luckily this mall had one of the best toy stores in the city, with towering lego buildings and life-sized stuffed animals.

you glance down at your tag, frowning.

“okay, my girl likes dress up and dolls, science books, plushies, and cartoons… annnnd my boy likes anime, pokemon, fairytale books, and playing outside,” you hum. “they need basics too, like winter clothes and hygiene stuff, but we’ll get that stuff later. what about you?”

keigo looks at his list. “my boy likes monster trucks, crafts, dogs, and board games.. but my girls list just says.. not needed.” he frowned, clutching the paper a little tighter.

“well.. hey, maybe their family is just nervous about asking for too much?” you bite back your lip, gently brushing his arm in a comforting manner. you knew his past, so you imagined how important this was.

“well, they’re gonna get a big surprise when she gets a whole lotta presents.” he grins brightly.

you tilt your head, smiling softly. “oh, i’m sure. now cmon, let’s grab some carts. this store is gonna get cleaned out.”

each of you grabbing a cart, you stroll down the various aisles, filling it to the brim with various gifts for your angel tree kids. various dress up clothes, books of all genres and lengths (including some for as they grew up), barbie dolls, monster high dolls, bratz dolls, littlest pet shop, science kits, stuffed animals of various sizes and species, toys from popular cartoons and anime’s were airing, pokemon cards and stuffed animals, outdoor toys for all seasons, monster trucks (with batteries, of course), various craft kits and supplies, a little robot dog, and all kinds of board games. next was.. the more difficult task.

“this one’s gonna be difficult,” you sigh. “it’s hard to guess what a kids into when you don’t know anything about them…” you bite your thumb. “i mean, i had different interests depending on what day it was as a kid. monday i obsessed with my sailor moon dolls and wednesday i was bill nye making what could be equated to mustard gas in my kitchen. what about you?” as you look at him, keigo turns his head slowly, tight lipped, blinking slowly. “oh, right.. sorry.. forgot for a second. sorry honey.” you suck in air through your teeth.

“hey, i’ve got an idea though! why don’t you just.. imagine yourself as little you, and put whatever you like in the cart! anything you would have wanted as a kid, just throw it in, you know? people are always talking about that inner child stuff.”

keigo thinks for a moment.

“that’s not a bad idea. you should help, though. when i was a kid, all i wanted was loving parents,” he looked at you, who was holding in a laugh. “you’re going to hell, you know that?” he glared at you.

“i’m sorry,” you mutter out. “it’s not.. that you didn’t have parents, it’s just the way you said it…but anyways! let’s go spoil our last angel kid - we’ll, before the essentials.” you quickly change the subject.

you watch keigo as you walk down the aisles - the same ones you two raided while shopping for your other angel tree children - intently. he seemed far too analytical, as per usual.

“honey,” you hum. “remember, think like a carefree kid. i know.. that you probably had to think about all of this, but just imagine you can pick out anything you’d want, alright?”

keigo nodded. “right.. anything i’d want..”

he picked up a medium sized dollhouse.

“i used to make little figures with sticks and tissue paper, but this one comes with actual dolls. they would’ve liked a house, i think,” he puts it in the bottom of his cart. in the next aisle, he picked up various lego sets. “c’mon, every kid should have a lego set.” he says, tossing it in the cart.

as you two browse the aisles, his analytical side begins to fade away (though he still explains his reasoning for everything) as his eyes begin to light up. the size of his cart is doubled by the time you’re done. you two are walking to the front, tall carts threatening to spill when you glance at him.

“shit, i forgot to grab something. can you take this to the front for me? i’ll meet you up there.”

“of course,” he uses a few of his feathers to steady the toys in both of your carts, pushing yours. “just be quick, alright?”

as soon as he disappears, you slip into an aisle that holds various hero merchandise, picking up one of his plushies. you hold it behind your back, going to a different register while he’s distracted with paying for all of the presents and using his feathers to hold the dozens of bags. after paying, you slip the doll into your purse, meeting back with him like nothing happened.

the rest of your shopping trip was filled with getting the essentials for the kids on the list. while shopping for their clothes, you couldn’t stop gushing to keigo about how small all the clothes were, and how adorable the kids would look in all of them. you even managed to get the shopping for your family done as well.

by the time you two left, you could barely fit all of the bags in his car, including the trunk and the back seat, covering all the windows. in fact, this is how most of the drive went:

“baby can i merge?”

“i don’t know, what am i supposed to do?”

“stick your head out the window.”

“my hair’ll get ruined!”

“it’s gonna get ruined if i crash, too.”

-

“oh my god are we gonna get pulled over?”

“maybe, but it’ll be on their hands when they ruin christmas.”

“you’re going like, 40 over! slow down or christmas really will be ruined!”

-

luckily, you two made it home alive and ticket-less. thank god for keigo’s feathers, otherwise getting up the elevator with all of the bags would have been hell on earth.

as soon as you got inside, you changed into your coziest pajamas, dimming the lights as you turned on one of your favorite christmas movies, sprawling various boxes, bags, and bows across the floor with your un-opened wrapping paper. keigo, of course, made two cups of hot chocolate with extra whip cream for both of you.

three hours. two movies, six rolls of wrapping paper, and five cups of hot chocolate between the two of you later, every present was wrapped, bowed, taped, boxed, bagged, and tagged.

keigo yawned, stretching.

“finally done.. i’m gonna go get ready for bed..” he said, his eyes already half closed as he kissed your head, taking your two mugs to the sink.

“okay! i’ll be there in a few minutes!” you reply, reaching into your purse to take out the plushie that resembled him. you smiled, dropping it into a small box as you quickly wrapped it, setting it with the rest of her gifts.

next saturday, as promised, you and keigo showed up to the mall, dozens upon dozens of gifts in tow. keigo found a santa outfit but decided to skip the beard, which you heartily appreciated. you, in turn, dressed as mrs. clause, with a fluffy red skirt and calf high black boots.

as expected, keigo’s presence was met with pure excitement, each child that came up with their parents to get their presents nearly exploding with joy.

just as all of them were passed out, a small girl, who looked to be about five, approached as her mother stood a few feet back. she was in a light blue blue winter jacket a little too big for her with baggy green cargo pants. she had short curly lilac hair with wide orange eyes.

“hi there,” keigo knelt down to her. “are you yui?”

the girl nodded slowly, holding her hands behind her back.

“well, looks like i’ve got your presents right here,” keigo stepped aside, revealing the last pile of presents. her mother gasped as yui’s eyes glowed - literally. her eyes lit up like flashlights.

“for me?!” she asked excitedly.

“all for you, but don’t open ‘til christmas, alright?” keigo winked, tapping her nose.

“actually, i have something she can open now,” you spoke up, kneeling down beside keigo as you handed her the small box you kept hidden.

“you do now?” keigo asked, equally surprised as yui as she held it in her small hands. she tore it open, smiling brightly as she pulled the small plushie of keigo out.

“i love him! thank you!” she held him against her cheek, hugging him tightly.

you didn’t notice, as you were watching yui hold her new favorite plushie, but the look keigo gave you was of pure adoration - it was a look that people only dream of. it was a look knowing that you were the person he’d spend the rest of his life with.

keigo helped them pile the gifts into their car, and you two stood outside the mall, the cool wind whipping against any exposed skin.

“i can’t believe you got that by me without noticing.” he grinned at you as they drove away.

“well, you don’t need government training to be sneaky.” you tease him, shivering immediately after.

“c’mon, mrs. clause,” he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “let’s get you something warm, hm?”

[autumngold]

soft jolly hours!

this masterpiece of a man has permanently been on my mind for the past seven years. that is no surprise.

most recently, though, i’ve been thinking about dancing with him in between mundane chores.

cooking dinner together? with music of your choice playing through the speakers? sipping on some red wine? oh, he’ll definitely pull you closer and dance with you for a little while.

a hand on the small of your back, foreheads touching and occasionally stealing a kiss from his person. he knows there’s plenty of time. lasagna will be in the oven for the next 15 minutes or so. he’ll make sure to savor every moment he gets to be around you.

and you might be asking yourself “but do you think he’s a huge dancer? like a hidden talent kinda thing?”

no! i don’t! but he gives off domestic, easy going, laid back vibes when he’s around the people he loves. and i can totally picture him dancing with his person around the living room, or the kitchen or their shared bedroom - just to be closer to them, or to make them laugh - especially when he knows they’ve had a rough week at work/uni/life in general.

in my mind, he’s the softest man who just wants to see their partner smile. and if it’s because of him, then, even better. he takes pride in the fact that they’re his and that he’s capable of making them feel comfortable and relaxed.

[angelicabunny]

Below the Table.

requested: yes!!

summary: y/n has to find a fake boyfriend who will convince her family during their fancy dinner, little do they know what’s going on below the table.

warnings: smut, fake dating trope, matt sturniolo x reader.

word count: 1,498!! (a little longer than usual)

“and you won’t believe what i said next!” i cried out to the triplets, they all stared at me while sitting on the edge of their lounge chairs.

“cmon, tell us already!” chris giggled

“you’re killing us!” nick added.

i finally calmed down my laughter and got the words out “i told them i had a boyfriend! so now i have to find one before tonight!” i cried, burring my face into my hands while still giggling.

i looked over to matt, his face an unusual shade of pink.

“you’re fuckin’ with us,” said nick while his jaw was still hanging past his knees, “you haven’t had one since freshman year!”

“i know! i know, i’m just so sick of them teasing me about it” i replied.

“well y/n, you just created yourself a shitty night!” giggled chris while getting up. i rolled my eyes teasingly, matt still sitting quietly in the corner.

“matt did you hear what y/n just said!” wheezed nick while punching his arm, bringing him back to life.

“oh, um yea” he said quietly, looking straight back down at his phone.

“oh my god. y/n, i’ve found your date for tonight.” nick said while holding matt’s shoulders and giving him a shake, “he’s perfect for you, look how cute he is!” he said while jokingly holding matt’s face.

"what, no way, i don't want to drag poor matt into my family drama" i said while staring at matt who now had an innocent smile on his face.

"i don't mind y/n, plus it will give me an excuse to get out of the house." he said eagerly while giving me a small smirk.

"are you sure matt, this means so much you don't understand!" i squealed while getting up to join him and nick. "but no funny business," i said firmly, "this is just to help me convince my family i'm not some loner."

"whatever you say princess." matt said in a joking tone, nick giggling next to him. i couldn't help but laugh with them. "i'll see you at seven."

i finally made it back to my apartment to get ready for dinner. i stood in front of my mirror in my favourite tight black dress, admiring my curves while clipping on my earrings when suddenly the doorbell rang, matt. i rushed over to the door, my heels tapping along the floor. i opened the door for him while still trying to fix my earrings.

“hey i’ll be out in a sec.” i said while focusing on grabbing my handbag and phone.

“holy shit,” matt whispered, taking in my body with his eyes, “why have i never seen you dressed like this before.” he added.

“ew matt, don’t be weird. remember this is just for tonight buddy.” i said bluntly while stepping out the door, locking it behind me. we made our way to the elevator, matt leading me by resting his hand just above my ass.

“matt get your hand off me.” i said in a jokey tone.

“hey don’t get mad at me im just trying to get into the role.” he replied while the elevator door shut behind us. i couldn’t help but laugh as his lips curled into his perfect smile.

the entrance of the restaurant was crowded with people, i could feel my nerves bubbling in my stomach. we made our way over to the large table, my family shining radiant smiles in our direction.

“oh honey!” my mother said happily while pulling me into a hug “why have you been hiding this handsome man from us?” she questioned while waving a hand at matt, his smile bigger than ever.

“it’s so nice to meet you mrs y/l/n.” matt said, his voice clear and sweet.

we made our way around the table, greeting all my family members who were more than excited to finally meet my ‘boyfriend’. matt pulled my chair out, waiting for me to sit before he did.

“such a gentleman.” i teased, his ocean eyes beaming while being hidden by his dark hair.

about an hour had passed and we all had finished our meals, the rest of my family chatting now.

the restaurant was packed tonight, chatter filling the atmosphere, i could feel my clammy palms lay in my lap while my leg bounced trying to distract myself. matt gave me a worried look before placing his rough hand onto my thigh, giving me a reassuring rub with his thumb.

“it’s okay, don’t stress.” he mouthed. i gave him a warm smile before placing my hand on top of his.

i felt his hand sneaking further up my dress, my face burning up as he brushed my now throbbing clit through my laced panties. my legs bucking below the table, a small smirk painting his face as he continued to tease me. i shot him a look before being interrupted by one of my family members.

“are we ready for the bill lovebirds?” my father said with a smile on his face, unaware of what was happening below the table.

“yes sir.” matt replied while still teasing me. i felt my breathing pick up, my core begging for release.

“alright then, it was lovely meeting you matthew, you two have an amazing night.” my parents said happily.

“are you serious matt?!” i said jokingly while watching him grip the steering wheel of the van.

“just part of my role princess.” he replied with a grin on his face.

his ring clad hands looking perfect as he pulled into the parking lot, the headlights beaming. “want me to walk you up?” he questioned. i nodded happily in response. i made my way over to the elevator, feeling his presence behind me as we got in.

“you look beautiful tonight y/n/n.” he said as the elevator dinged. a blush taking over my cheeks.

“we don’t have to pretend any more matt nobody’s around.” i joked in response while jamming the keys into my door, matt still behind me as i stepped inside.

his deep eyes meeting mine, as he unbuttoned his black tux. his hair sitting perfectly above his eyes as they take me in.

“i don’t want to pretend anymore y/n.” he said with a raspy voice making his way closer to me.

“what do you mean by that matty?” i said knowing full well what he meant, my core begging for him.

his body inches away from mine as he grabbed my hips, arching me into him, my breathing hitched at the sudden friction of his bulge pushing against me. “you know exactly what i mean, stop being such a tease.” he whispered into my ear before kissing my neck. a quiet moan slipping past my lips. before i could even respond he gripped me by my ass and carried me to my room. placing me gently on the bed not daring to break our kiss.

he pulled away roughly, “you’re sure you’re okay with this?” he asked while running a thumb over my bottom lip.

“more than okay.” i said while out of breath and trying to remove my dress.

he smiled while leaving a kiss down my neck, helping me take off my dress. my red bra and matching panties exposed. his eyes burned holes into my skin as be took me in. “god you’re gorgeous.” he said rushing to undo his belt, throwing it to the floor before removing every last bit of clothing.

his cock now in his hand, tip red and drooling with precum. his finger hooked around my soaked panties before pulling them to the side. his tip now teasing my swollen clit. before i could get a word out he had bottomed out inside me hitting places i’ve never felt before.

“oh god matt!” i whimpered while gripping the sheets for support.

my pleas only driving him more, his pace picking up as the most angelic moans left his mouth. his silky hair bouncing with every thrust.

the familiar knot was growing tighter in my core as i clawed into his back. “i’m so fucking close matt.” i managed to say in between moans of pleasure.

his thrusts growing sloppier as he gripped my breast, hard enough to bruise, pornographic moans spilling from my lips as a wave of pleasure took over my body.

my tight walls now clamping down onto his veined cock, his head flying back in pleasure. he gave three hard thrusts leaving me seeing stars before filling me with long, warm ropes of thick cum.

“o-oh god.” he whimpered while falling on top of me, his arms still flexing as he held most of his weight up.

my breathing was still heavy as he lied next to me on his side, his arm propping up his head while he traced circles with his finger tips over my smooth skin.

“what happened to no funny business?” he teased while giggling.

i jokingly pushed him away, but before i could give him a response, he moved his face closer to mine leaving a soft kiss on my lips before brushing the hairs out of my face.

this was so rushed i’m so sorry 😓

i also hate the ending, but i hope you all enjoy 😘😘

[folkloresthings]

[ regretful ] + lando norris maybeeee ? <3

p.s i absolutely adore your writing 💞

[ regretful ] for a kiss meant to apologise with lando norris.

it was a very nice restaurant, you had to admit. you had asked charles for a recommendation, since you and lando were both new to monaco, and he’d given you the name of his favourite place. it was expensive sure, but you had decided lando deserved a nice night out. he’d been working non—stop since you moved, you’d barely seen him, so at the first chance of an evening off you booked the restaurant.

it felt less and less like a nice restaurant the longer you sat, alone, waiting for your boyfriend to appear. you suddenly felt incredibly self—conscious, amongst the glitz and glamour, the dress you had picked out looking progressively worse in your eyes the longer you felt people looking at you.

lando had agreed to meet you there at seven, after his meetings, and it was now sixteen minutes past eight. he wasn’t answering his texts, and you were sure you might cry from embarrassment if the waiter asked you “are you still waiting on someone?” one more time.

“i’m sorry, there seems to have been an emergency,” you lied, making your apologies to the hostess, before slipping out of the restaurant with burning cheeks. it wouldn’t have been half as bad if you hadn’t heard the whispers of nearby tables mentioning who you were, who your boyfriend was. monaco was smaller than you thought, and now people knew you’d been stood up by lando norris, top formula one driver.

when you arrived back at your apartment, it was cold and empty. there was no sign of lando, in person or on your phone. your new dress discarded in a corner, you pulled on a pair of pyjama bottoms and an old mclaren sweater, wallowing on the couch with yesterdays leftovers and gossip girl playing on the television.

the door clicked open around eleven o’clock, and you heard lando hurry in, slightly out of breath from his rush home. you clicked pause on your episode, turning to look coldly at him over the back of the sofa.

“i waited an hour for you,” you told him, before he could spout excuses. “an hour of pity from the waiters and whispers from stupid people sat next to me. it was embarrassing, lando.”

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, dropping his bag and stalking over to the couch. “the meetings were hectic and i just lost track of time and then it was too late. i’m so sorry, love.”

you bit down hard on your lip, the tears that had been threatening to spill all night finally taking liberty. lando sighed, his stomach twisting. he hated the sight of you crying, always had.

“i just wanted one night,” you manage to choke out, curling into yourself. “but you’re always so busy. we’ve lived here for three months and haven’t spent any time together, lando.”

lando winced, the months catching up on him. squeezing next to you, he pulls your frame into his lap and holds you close, mind racing with ways to make it up to you. he’d been so busy, he’d forgotten to prioritise you — the love of his life. the person who gave up everything to move out here with him, because he’d asked you to.

“listen to me,” he murmured, making you look up at him with big, wet eyes. “i love you so much. i know i’ve been awful recently at showing it, but i do. i’m going to take some time off, i don’t care what anyone says, and we’re going to spend every day together. okay?”

you nod, wiping at your eyes. lando smiles, though it’s full of sadness, and hooks his knuckle under your chin to raise you lips to his. tender and loving, pouring everything he couldn’t say into one kiss, softly sucking at your bottom lip.

“you make it really hard to stay mad at you,” you pout, gazing up at his doe eyes. he smiles, that boyish, toothy smile that makes your chest swell.

“i love you too, baby.”

[whatswrongwithblue]

The Fire in the Sin

Chapter 16 - Possessed

Word count: 7,613. Read on AO3. Series Masterlist. <- Previous Chapter.

Summary: The consequences of Alastor being bested are felt by more than just himself. Trigger Warnings: Canon typical violence, possession, mentions of masturbation, alcohol and tobacco use, and self-harm/self-mutilation.

Series Summary:

In the 1950's, Alastor met the woman he would eventually marry but unfortunately his Radio Demon persona went for her soul rather than her hand. He has to learn what it means to love, and cherish, without possessing and he does. Their relationship is beautiful, strong, unbreakable . . . but he carries a dark secret through their marriage for decades until eventually he has to face the consequences of that secret and leave her, without warning, for seven years. He returns, finding her at the Hazbin Hotel, and has to convince her to forgive him, while being literally bound to secrecy, unable to tell her any of things he now is desperate to explain to her.

(This is a duel timeline fic, timestamps will be a the top of every chapter.)

Chapter 16 - Possessed

1984

It only took Rosie’s people a couple hours to gather up their resources and investigate just what had happened to Mina and who was involved. They reported their findings to her and Rosie used the information to quickly come up with a plan; one that would be very fortuitous for herself.

That is how, come midafternoon that very same day, Rosie walked through the same door Mina had that morning and heard the same bell chime its welcome to her.

“Good afternoon,” she said to the same two assistants that were still manning the register.

Another shopper had peaked around one of the stacks, spotted Rosie, and scurried past her and out the front door.

“And where would the owner of this fine establishment be?”

The boy was staring at her open mouthed, but the girl seemed to have a little bit more wits about her, so she wordlessly leaned forward and banged on the little bell in front of her.

“What is it?!” Theodore shouted from somewhere in the back.

Without taking her eyes off Rosie, the girl hit the bell again.

“Oh for fucks sake, if those two have run off again-“ Theodore stopped his rant as he walked up front, freezing in place when he saw Rosie.

“Children,” Rosie said, turning to the desk attendants. “Theodore will no longer be needing your assistance. See yourselves out.”

“Hey, now wait a minute, I own their souls. You can’t just-“

“Oh, and a word of advice, my dears,” Rosie said, ignoring his protests. “Once you get out those front doors . . .” She flashed them her toothiest smile. “Run.”

The assistants made haste and left the store, moving quicker than Theodore had ever seen them move before.

“I didn’t do anything,” he began once the door had swung shut.

Rosie laughed. “A liar and a coward. And Mina always spoke of you with such regard to your character.”

He swallowed nervously with an audible gulp.

Rosie made a show of looking around the place. She peaked through the curtain of the front window, inspecting the neighboring buildings, and then turned towards the small spiral staircase, looking up at the landing above that housed more books.

“You know, this neighborhood is really only a few minutes away from Cannibal Town. And I’ve been thinking for a while that I should expand my boarders. Getting a bit too dense in there, if you know what I mean. But I’m backed up against so many other sections of the city, there’s really nowhere to go. I’m a reasonable woman after all, and no one has given me a reason to take over what’s theirs. Until now, that is.”

“What-you can’t! It was just me! You can’t just take over several other businesses because of what I did to one girl!”

Rosie tsked at him, disapprovingly.

“They let those ghouls into their neighborhood. They watched as Mina was dragged from your shop. I can’t have simpletons like that so close to my boarders. But don’t worry about them. The other businesses around here will have a choice. Join me, and learn how a real Overlord runs things, or . . . be on the menu.”

Theodore began to back away, trying to put the front desk between himself and Rosie.

She just smiled at him, allowing him to make his small retreat.

“How did you find out?” he asked as he sidestepped behind the desk.

“I have my ways,” she answered with a delicate shrug.

“And just to be clear, you’re implying you won’t be giving me the same choice as you’ll give the others?”

“No, I’m afraid not. Like I said, lots of people in Cannibal Town these days. Gotta give them fresh meat sometimes.”

Behind her, the door opened again, and half a dozen cannibals filtered into the shop.

Theodore reached for the shelving hidden behind the desk and pulled out a gun. Rather than pull it on Rosie or the Cannibals, he lifted it to his own head and pulled the trigger with no hesitation.

The trigger clicked a tiny, useless sound and Theodore stared at the gun.

“Like I said,” Rosie smiled, “I have my ways. Did you think I was going to leave you with an easy way out? Let you respawn and hide somewhere else? The chase could be fun . . .”

Her cannibals were circling the desk, two on either open ends and two standing at the front, completely caging him in.

“But I’m a busy woman,” Rosie stated, “and I don’t have time for that kind of nonsense.”

The two Cannibals at the front of the desk leaped over the barrier as the four at each side closed the distance as well.

Outside the building, several demons passing by stopped as the screaming began and then quickly headed in the opposite direction when they saw the large mass of Cannibals walking down the middle of the street, breaking into smaller groups and entering several neighboring businesses at once.

_____

The rest of that first day was the hardest for Mina.

Once she came to, it became evident that while she was no longer in physical pain and had longer bouts of clarity than just the couple of seconds she had shown at Rosie’s, the mental attack she was fighting was far from over.

Alastor hadn’t chained her to the wall at first. He couldn’t bring himself to. She was still sound asleep and peaceful looking. He had only kept the shackles around her neck as a precaution against her morphing into her larger form, but he hadn’t really believed it would be an issue anymore.

He laid her down on the sofa in the main room of the radio tower, careful to move the links of the large chain so that they were more comfortable for her. More of her hair had fallen in her eyes so he brushed the strands away and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, and she made a soft, sweet whine in her sleep in response. His strained grin lifted at the corners just a bit, his hope growing that she would be okay now.

He dressed her using his magic, her usual orange sundress appearing first as a wrapping of shadows around her sleeping form, before solidifying as clothing, zipped up and fitting her body perfectly.

Alastor sat on the couch beside her, watching her sleep for several minutes. He was just barely keeping his rage at bay. So much of him wanted to go find Kassandra right then and there and rip her soul apart in the streets for everyone to see. But he made himself sit there, quietly, and keep guard over Mina until she was well again. He had been speaking the truth when he told Abaddon he knew Mina would want her revenge. As hard as it was for him to imagine his love being beaten, undressed, and her mind assaulted, it had to be all the more difficult for her. The best thing he could do for her was force himself to settle now so they could seek their vengeance together later.

It wasn’t long before she began to stir. First her eyes opened and blinked, then she sat up, feeling the shackle around her neck, and Alastor could see the moment when Mina recalled what had happened that day.

“It’s just a precaution,” he said, feeling ashamed he had left her in them. “I’ll remove them the second we’re sure your alright.”

Mina’s hands dropped from her neck to her lap. “You should have chained me to the wall.”

“I would never,” he insisted.

“Rosie’s going to kill me.”

“She will do no such thing, believe me.”

“If I were anyone else, she would have.”

“But you’re not anyone else. You're mine.”

Mina looked at him then, and Alastor tried to force his smile into something softer and more reassuring but as tears began to gather in her eyes, he felt his anger returning. She was not a woman who cried easily. It took a great amount of emotional distress to bring her to tears and watching her break like this was pulling at every last shred of Alastor’s sanity.

He was not a good or tender man. Alastor didn’t necessarily view himself as evil, he possessed some kind of moral compass, however broken and twisted it was. But he was well aware of the reasons as to why he was in Hell. And his first instincts when he saw the woman he loved hurt and crying, was not to comfort her, but to lash out at the thing that had done this to her. It was a great mental effort for him to remind himself that one had to come before the other, and he reached his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to his chest, letting her sob out her frustrations.

“I’m so sorry,” she cried into his jacket, “I’m so sorry. I tried. I tried. I tried to fight them off. I tried to get her out of my head. But she’s so strong Al’. I didn’t mean to do the things I did. I didn’t want to. The whole time, I was trying to stop, I really was-“

“Mina,” he said sternly, cutting her off. “None of this was your fault.”

“But I was weak. That’s what Kassandra wanted to show everyone. That you had given yourself to someone weak. And she’s right­­-“

“Stop it,” he said and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away enough to make her look at him. “That’s just her in your head. You and I are going to kill them all for what they did to you, so that’s enough talk of weakness, my dear.”

Mina seemed to relax a little then. Her tears were still falling but she wasn’t sobbing in earnest anymore, and she sank back into him, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Alastor sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head on the back of the couch, trying to ignore the rush of hormones in his body as Mina’s figure pressed against his but his thoughts began to wander.

She was crying, and soft, and warm against his body, she needed him to show her that she was his, that she was safe in his possession, that no one but him would ever again be allowed to touch her like this.

He was snapped from his rut-induced train of thought when she suddenly tensed against him and shame coursed through him, thinking she had somehow caught on to the fantasy emerging in his mind.

But then Mina began to growl and her hands shot up, clutching the sides of her head. She screamed a guttural, desperate sound as she struggled against another mental onslaught.

Alastor sat up with her, taking hold of her forearms.

“Mina,” he said, unsure of what to do or say.

“I CAN’T GET HER OUT!” she screamed. Her face was turning red with effort, her cheeks wet with fresh tears, and Alastor saw a trickle of blood running down her wrist and realized too late she was clawing at herself.

He made the mistake of trying to force her hands away from her, just to keep her from hurting herself further, and she lashed out at him with another feral shriek, and bit into his shoulder.

Her teeth tore through jacket and shirt and sank into the meat of his shoulder and his survival instincts kicked in. Shadows forced themselves around her, pushing her off him and wrapping themselves around her, holding her down on the couch. His real shadow appeared on the wall, spreading itself up and out, hissing down at her as she continued to struggle and scream, once again completely out of her mind.

Alastor sucked in a breath of air and pressed his hand to his bleeding shoulder, looking at Mina with pity and concern. He had underestimated by a long shot just how much she would continue to struggle for command over her body and mind.

“I’m so sorry, Mina,” he said, though he was sure she couldn’t comprehend his words, and stood, grabbing the ends of the chains.

His shadows forced her along behind him so she wasn’t dragged, and he chained her to the wall on the opposite side of the room, keeping tentacles of shadow around her wrists so that she couldn’t do any further damage to herself.

She looked like so many of the souls he had brought misery to in his time in Hell. With a chain around her neck, his shadows forcing her down, her screams of desperation and rage against him filling up the room.

Alastor turned away, unable to watch.

Had there really been a time when this is what he had wanted to do to her? To own her soul and keep her in chains, completely at the whim of his own will and power? He had done it to thousands of others easily; joyfully even. And he would do it again a thousand times over. But to Mina? It seemed abhorrent and unnatural to see her like this.

Several long minutes went by with her in that state until she eventually collapsed to the floor, crying quietly but when he said her name, she didn’t respond. She was still out of it, unaware of her surroundings, it was just that her body was too exhausted to struggle.

He summoned a mattress beneath her and once she had fallen truly asleep, he let his shadows dissipate from around her.

It was going to be a very long 48 hours for him.

Looking down with disgust at the tent in his pants, he realized he wouldn’t be able to care for her alone like he wanted to. Not when he would have to keep leaving her side to take care of that.

He left her briefly for a few minutes, chaperoned by his shadow, and transported himself to the bathroom to clean up the blood from his shoulder and relieve his other problem, before heading back upstairs and summoning Niffty.

She got to quick work, cleaning up the discarded mess he had left around his workstation, and then the blood that had splattered on the floor and couch from Mina’s attack, before making tea with honey to sooth Mina’s throat once she woke up.

Alastor would never have even thought about her throat being hurt from all her screaming and allowed himself to relax a little once Niffty had considered it, knowing for sure he had made the right decision by bringing her into this.

“Thank you, Niffty,” he said as she placed the tray down on the small dining table in the room where he and Mina had shared their first meal together. She even had a tea cozy around the pot and a little candle burning beneath it to keep it warm until Mina woke again. Alastor wasn’t sure where she had gotten such a thing, but Niffty was often as mysterious in her abilities as Alastor himself was.

“It’s pretty bad, isn’t it?” she asked, watching Mina sleep from across the room.

Alastor nodded, accepting a cup of the tea as Niffty handed it to him, unsweetened like he preferred it. “It is, my dear. Unfortunately, it is. But it won’t be for much longer, I’m sure of it.”

Niffty wandered around the room, restless as usual for something to do, now that she had cleaned the place from top to bottom. She stopped at one of the large windows, peering down at the street below.

“Oh no,” she said, wringing her small hands nervously.

“What is it?” Alastor asked and strode over to see what she was looking at.

A large crowd of demons, Sinners and Hellborns alike, were gathered around the radio tower. Most were keeping a safe distance, but many were standing directly beneath them, gawking up at the tower as if they could catch a glimpse of something through the one-way windows.

“I guess word has gotten out about what happened today, huh?” she asked, peeling her eyes away from the scene below to look up at Alastor.

The teacup shattered in his grip as his smile widened to an unnatural width across his features.

“’Eat shit and die,’ that was the supposed message for me. What do you think, Niffty?”

She climbed up on his shoulder, looking down at the crowd from her improved vantage point.

“I think you should burn them, sir,” she said with a smile that matched his own.

They shared a knowing look and laughed together, and then in unison turned their gaze back on the demons below.

A shadow grew at the base of the tower, spreading like flowing water across the street, reaching out to the furthest members of the crowd.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying how many of them began to nervously lift one foot and then the other, pathetically trying to avoid the shadow’s reach.

With a squint of his eyes and a snap of his fingers, the shadow ignited, and green flames devoured the entire crowd as one. Dozens, maybe even a hundred, demons screaming in unison as their souls were devoured and then added to his collection.

It was his turn to leave a message to all of Pentagram City. The Radio Demon didn’t have to step a foot out of his tower to be a threat, regardless of the slight against his own hours before.

“Alastor?” Mina’s rough voice called for him, and both he and Niffty turned away from the window, the green glow of the blaze reflecting behind them.

Niffty jumped from his shoulder and ran over to the teapot, pouring out a cup and began to walk towards her.

Mina pulled away as Niffty approached her, pressing herself against the wall.

“Stay back,” she warned, and Niffty stopped, glancing over at Alastor with a questioning look.

“She’s just trying to help,” Alastor told Mina.

Mina’s ears went flat against her head and she looked away, ashamed and submissive. “I don’t want to hurt her,” she said in a small voice.

Alastor sent a tendril of shadow from his back that stretched across the room and carefully took the handle of the teacup before carrying it over to Mina.

The tentacle held it in front of her face and she reached out, taking it in both hands and then meeting Alastor’s eyes again.

“For your throat,” he explained.

Mina sipped at it for a few minutes and then laid back down on the mattress, turning her back to the other two occupants, and remaining silent.

Niffty stayed a while longer, cooking them all a meal while Alastor watched over Mina, excusing himself for a few moments of privacy every once in a while to deal with the affects of his rut.

Mina didn’t touch her food that was left in a bowl beside her, too upset to eat, or perhaps to repulsed by food because of Kassandr’a presence in her head. It was hard to say.

She fell to her insanity a couple more times before twilight officially fell over the city.

Alastor and Niffty watched her as she struggled against her bonds, her body attempting to morph even with the chains on. Mina was on all fours, pulling backwards against the chain on her neck, her body long and barely human anymore as it strained with all its might against the angelic power forcing it to stay small. Her spine protruded out from between her shoulder blades, her ribs stretching the fabric of her dress nearly to the point of tearing it with every heaving breath she took, and her claws tore into the mattress below her, desperate to gain leverage in her struggle against her chains. Alastor kept his shadows hovering over her, ready to force her still should she turn those claws on herself again.

All the while, she screamed and cried, her face contorted in misery as she fought for control over her body.

“You can go now, Niffty. I’ll call on you sometime tomorrow. Go and get some rest now,” Alastor said to her.

Mina’s struggles were only getting more intense and though he probably could still use Niffty’s help, it was getting to the point where he wanted Mina to keep what was left of her dignity and not have anyone else witness the worst of what she was going through.

Niffty nodded dutifully as shadows engulfed her, sending her back to wherever she had been when he had summoned her.

Mina continued with her battles throughout the night, off and on, nearly until morning when she finally collapsed for several hours on the mattress.

Before she had truly fallen to sleep, trusting in that longer moment of lucidity, Alastor had risked undoing the chains from the wall and had his shadow escort her to the restroom so she could at least take care of that one bodily need in private. He had sighed in relief when she had returned, quickly and peacefully, though she laid down and again turned away from him when he hooked her back to the wall.

He took off his jacket and laid down beside her, reaching an arm around her to her spoon her from behind, but she tensed and pulled away.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed, and then said softy, “please. I’ll hurt you.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” he said, and reached his arm around her again, succeeding that time in pulling her against him.

“I bit you,” she protested, still tense but no longer trying to put distance between them.

“Oh, it’s nothing worse than what you’ve done in moments of passion, my dear,” he said lightly, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, right in the middle of one of his particularly favorite leopard spots.

“It’s different,” she mumbled.

She was right, of course. Her love bites were always painful, but pleasant. Enough to break the skin and draw blood, but the pain during intercourse was thrilling. What she had done in her moment of madness had truly hurt and had been a much deeper wound. But still, it had healed within the hour and he was confident in being able to read the warning signs of an attack now, as well as his ability to hold her back even if she did manage to get another bite or scratch in.

Right now he just wanted to comfort her, to hold her after everything she had been through that day. And, he couldn’t deny, his own body was desperate to touch her.

Her breathing began to slow and he knew that she had fallen asleep. He stayed there, exhausted as well, and closed his eyes as he tried to drift off to sleep.

Dozing off, and half asleep, his hand wandered over her body. The smooth backside of his clawed nails trailing up and down her arm, a soothing rhythm for both of them. Then the smell of her overtook his senses and his hand left her arm, now following the curve of her hip and upper thigh over the fabric of her dress.

His eyes snapped open, the dim red glow of them illuminating her silhouette, as his hand found the bunched up skirt near her upper thigh.

He imagined that hand slipping beneath the dress, following her smooth skin up, exposing the soft round flesh of her ass. She had it pressed against him just right and he could feel himself growing hard against her. It would take so little effort to adjust her body, pull aside her panties, and take her right there. He thought of Kassandra in her mind and it only made him harder, made him want to at least claim her body, remind that bitch that Mina was untouchable, that she was his, and her warm little body would always be his, and no one else’s, for the taking. Mina would likely even stay asleep through the act, he could just quickly slip himself inside and-

Alastor yanked his hand away from her and stood up.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

His rut was no excuse. Even in her heat, even while drunk, Mina had better control of herself than he did. It was embarrassing. He was thoroughly disgusted with himself at even entertaining the thought of using her body that way, when she was in no state to consent.

Even with his mind shouting at him for what he had nearly done, his body still sought what it was after.

In a rage, Alastor disappeared from the room, turning to shadow and leaving Mina sleeping as he did what he had to do in the bathroom below.

Afterwards, as he washed his hands, Alastor looked up, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror.

That stupid fucking smile.

He had never hated it so much. Never hated himself so much as he did in that moment. He wanted to cut it off his face like he had his tail so many times in the past.

Alastor punched the mirror, watching it shatter, only to have the broken glass reveal a dozen more smaller reflections of the same damnable smile back at him.

With a shout, he ripped the mirror off the wall and threw it across the room. It hit the edge of the claw-footed tub and settled on the floor, completely broken, with his reflection finally hidden from him.

He gripped the edges of the sink, breathing hard, and looked down into the basin of the sink.

Alastor watched as droplets of water hit the porcelain and after a moment, realized he was crying.

Everything caught up to him in that moment. What had been done to Mina. How horrifically her body and mind had been violated. He had failed her. He had let a threat build under his very watch and it had come for her. And now he was helpless as she fought for herself. He couldn’t even heal her; he had needed Abaddon for that. And now he had to just watch as she fought off that demon in her mind and in her moment of weakness, as she fell asleep in his arms, still trusting him to watch over and protect her, he had nearly raped her. All because he couldn’t control himself during his rut.

Alastor dropped to his knees, still clutching the edges of the sink, and broke down into sobs.

He hadn’t felt this horrid in a very long time. It was like being surrounded by a dark cloud, that pressed against his mind and ate up every emotion except pain. No longer anything as clear as anger or guilt, just pain. Just an endless dense fog that kept him from thinking or feeling anything coherent.

As an adult, he had found a release from these moods. By embracing another kind of darkness, he had dispelled this blackness from his heart and aimed it towards others. That was when he discovered the glory of murder, how beautiful his wrath could be when targeted towards those who deserved it.

But as a child and as a teen, there had been no other outlet but the one tugging at his subconscious now.

It was a method he hadn’t relied on since well before he had died, unless one considered what he had done to his tail. He reflected on those nights now, his mind clinging to the release he had felt watching that band of red fur fall to the floor after spending agonizing minutes sawing through flesh and bone and cartilage to be free of the assaulting appendage he had hated so much. But through the physical pain and agony, there had been a kind of clarity. A release from the feeling of self-hatred, from the helpless way his anger overpowered him during his first few years in Hell.

But Mina loved his tail . . . he couldn’t risk her finding out about this pathetic and empty habit of his. It would break her heart and worse, she would pity him.

Something simpler then, like what he had indulged in as a juvenile.

Before he had time to consider his next actions, the knife was in his hand. Serrated and sharp, with a well-balanced handle that fit perfectly in his grip.

Then he was on the floor, leaning against the wall by the sink, amidst the plants and the humidity and cool, soothing tile, with his jacket off and one sleeve rolled up.

One . . . two . . . three . . .

The knife drew long, shallow lines of red, one after the other, down his forearm and with every cut, he felt a little more clear headed.

. . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

The first slice was already beginning to heal and Alastor watched, fascinated as the blood trickled down his arm from a wound that was no longer there.

His breathing stilled, his sobs subsiding then.

And then he thought of Mina; his dear, sweet, strong Mina, alone upstairs, getting no reprieve from the monsters in her mind, and he began cutting again, starting once more from the top.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

Pause. Another tilt of his head as he considered the flesh stitching itself back together.

One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . six . . . seven . . .

He continued this pattern, over and over again, never bothering to keep count of how many times he had to start over before his powerful, undead body healed itself. He just continued on, waiting for the cloud in his mind to dissipate, for the pain to end, so that he could return to where he knew he needed to be.  

Alastor sat there, alone in the bathroom, waiting for that blessed composure and control he had wielded for decades to finally return to him, while Mina slept upstairs, unaware.

____

He didn’t sleep at all the rest of the night, though that wasn’t unusual for him.

What was unusual was that he normally kept himself busy to force himself awake; but that night and into the early morning, he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he wanted to. His body was too on fire, raging with hormones, and his mind was too emotionally wrecked.

Alastor was exhausted but he didn’t deserve rest.

Once he was sure Mina would sleep until morning, he added a comforter and a large, comfortable pillow for her, and tucked her in, whispering to her sleeping form once more that he loved her.

Then he kept his distance, afraid of losing control again.

So he sat in the chair he kept by his main workstation and spent the night looking out over the city, occasionally smoking his pipe and going through several glasses of whiskey.

It took a lot for him to get drunk, at least to the point of blacking out, but he did find that it helped dull his senses enough to tame the urges brought on by his rut and it kept a certain organ of his body from acting up quite as often.

By sunrise, he was still fuming, barely keeping his rage below the surface, and feeling more restless than he could recall since ending up in Hell. But he was too exhausted, and a sore combination of hung over and still a bit tipsy, to really be feeling any kind of sexual desire. It was quite the accomplishment, given how deep into his rut he was.

Mina shifted under the covers and when he turned to look at her, she was sitting up, clutching at her head.

At first he was concerned that another bought of possession was taking hold of her but then she groaned and it was just a normal, headache induced moan.

“God my head is killin’ me,” she said, her accent extra thick in her sleepy state.

Alastor summoned a glass of water and brought it over to her, sitting down on the edge of the mattress next to her.

She took it gratefully, taking several large sips before setting it back down.

“I apologize for making you sleep out here. Truly, I would have preferred to let you rest in our bed but . . .”

“No, it’s fine, I was plenty comfortable,” she said, brushing off his apology. “Thank you, for keeping me safe yesterday. I still don’t feel  . . . alone in here,” she said, tapping her temple, “but her voice is quieter now. It’s a bit easier to resist the urge to tear at your throat, at least.”

“May I take these off then?” he asked, reaching for the shackle around her neck.

She slapped his hand away. “Don’t you dare.”

“Mina . . .” he said, frowning. “I hate to see you in such things.”

“They help. Really, I think they do.” She sniffed at him. “Have you been drinking?”

“I-“ he started, feeling heat come to his face. “It was a rough night.”

Mina tilted her head, confused for a moment, then her eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “Your rut! Oh God, Alastor, I’m so sorry. Ugh, this is all my fault,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

Alastor put a hand around one of her wrists and gently pulled her hand away from her face.

“Mina, listen to me,” he said, and he was relieved to see no tears in her eyes, only a bit of shame. “I may be incredibly angry about all of this, but I am neither angry at you, nor do I place any of the blame on you. I only wish I could help you more.”

“Oh, Al’,” she said, twisting her wrist out of his grasp so that she could hold his hand properly, and placed a kiss across the black skin of his knuckles. “You are everything I need you to be. You were strong enough to do what needed to be done to keep me from hurting myself or you.”

“I wish I could be more . . .comforting,” he said, unconsciously wrinkling his nose at his distaste for the word.

Mina laughed softly at him and squeezed his hand. “Why, so I could bite you again?”

Her smile suddenly turned to a frown, and she dropped his hand, scooting backwards across the mattress.

“What? What is it?” he asked.

She held her head again and took several long, steadying breaths. “Just give me a moment.”

After a minute she relaxed a bit and met his eyes sheepishly.

“Troubles not over then, is it?” he asked.

“No,” she sighed, “I’m afraid not. But I can handle it.” After another moment went by, she returned to her train of thought. “Alastor, I love everything that you are. Please, don’t ever try to be anything less or more than your natural self for my sake. I do not want the kind of man that will wallow in pity for me when I am hurt. I want you angry, so be fucking angry, okay? Because I want that bloody bitch dead by the end of tomorrow. You want to show me how much you love me? Let me watch while you tear her to pieces.”

Alastor smiled and for the first time since Mina’s capture, it was a genuine expression. He reached in and pulled her close, kissing her softly on the lips.

It was a small mistake. The intimate moment fueled his rut and Mina’s body tensed, almost losing control of her senses because of the distraction, and they pulled away at the same time, though regretfully.

“Best to save that for afterwards as well then?” Alastor said, irritated at the reminder.

Mina nodded, looking as sad about it as he felt, and again moved herself until she was on the far end of the mattress.

The rest of the day went by a little better.

Alastor had been moved by her words, her appreciation for his character more evident than ever. It soothed his guilty conscience over the night before now that he knew for sure he had behaved the way Mina had wanted him to, even when she couldn’t communicate that to him.

She had several episodes where she nearly lost herself again, but she was able to fend off the mental attacks before they escalated to the point of her screaming and lashing out.

Alastor summoned Nifty again, who was happy to cook and clean, and even helped sooth Mina during some of the more difficult spells. Eventually, it became evident that between the help of Nifty and the presence of his shadow, he would be able to leave Mina’s side long enough to take a shower. He knew he smelled of booze and the shower would give him the opportunity to linger on caring for his physical needs, leaving him more satisfied and calmer than before.

As evening fell and it had been a few hours since Mina’s last episode, Alastor sent Nifty away, and he unhooked Mina from the wall. With his shadow in tow, but her chain still around her neck, Mina disappeared from the control room, daring to use the restroom and take a shower for herself.

Alastor paced around the main room of the radio tower, more nervous than he had let on for Mina’s well-being. He knew it was a risky move but at some point they had to start testing the limits of her sanity and his shadow would alert him if she slipped again into madness.

That was when Abaddon decided to show up.

They stepped through the portal and into the Radio Tower as if they had done it before. Alastor bristled at the audacity.

“What are you doing here?” he asked with no pleasantness in his tone or expression despite his smile.

“Oh, calm down, I’m here for Mina, not you. I have a gift for her,” they replied with a dismissive wave of their hand and began walking around the room, staring openly at the décor. “Where is she?”

“Taking a shower. How did you get in here?” Alastor was in no mood for the angel’s games.

“Really?” they asked, turning around and looking at Alastor with surprise. “She’s already well enough for that? I have to say, I wasn’t expecting her to recover that quickly. But the constitution on that woman has always been impressive, to say the least.”

“How did you get in here?” Alastor repeated.

Abaddon chuckled and then turned back to the small display case of antiques and artwork.

“You may be in a relationship of sorts with her, but Mina is still under my protection. If you didn’t realize I had come here to make sure she would be safe here well before she moved in, then that’s your problem, not mine.”

Alastor snorted. “And you would have been able to stop her if you decided I wasn’t good enough for her?”

“You aren’t good enough,” Abaddon said simply, “but you are safe enough. For now. Are these real shrunken heads?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Alastor asked, ignoring Abaddon’s last question.

“Exactly what it sounds like,” they challenged. “That one day you’ll choose something else over Mina and it will either break her heart or get her killed.”

Alastor laughed in their face. “That. Is. Ridiculous. What preposterous scenario does your holiness foresee in which I would ever do that to her? Please, enlighten me.”

“Oh wow, you really believe it, don’t you?” Abaddon said, looking at Alastor as if this was a sudden and fascinating realization. “Cuz I feel like I’m going insane, watching you two. I seem to be the only one around here who knows you are the kind of man to always choose power over everything else. Men like you, demons like you, can never hold onto anything good. One day, you’ll make a move for more power and you’ll leave Mina behind. And I’ll be sure to be there for her when you do.”

“Get out,” Alastor said.

Abaddon had struck a deep and tender nerve, and Alastor could feel his antlers growing already. He couldn’t win a fight against Abaddon, he knew that. He also knew if Abaddon pushed him any further, he wouldn’t be able to help himself in starting one.

“No,” Abaddon said, turning their back on him, unthreatened by the display, and smiled sweetly over their shoulder at him.

Alastor snapped. The room shrunk around him as he increased his height and he felt a number of tentacles begin growing out his back.

“GET OUT OF MY FUCKING HOUSE BEFORE I-“

Alastor stopped in his tracks as his shadow darted into the room, attaching itself at his feet. Within the blink of an eye, he returned back to his normal form, a microsecond before Mina appeared in the room.

He was still breathing hard, his fury held in check by a hair, and he was sure his eyes were betraying him, having either turned to radio dials, or green, or black, or some combination of the three. The blasted things always gave him away.

Mina paused for a moment, looking at Alastor and then at Abaddon, and then rolled her eyes.

She may not know the extent of how much those two hated each other, but she wasn’t blind to the fact that they didn’t care for each other. Alastor being at the peak of his rut didn’t help, so she held no surprise that they had clearly been arguing.

She had dressed thankfully, even adding her usual light sweater that she normally forewent when they were home alone together. Alastor assumed the increased modesty was more to help with the symptoms of his rut rather than any precognition that Abaddon had arrived.

And she still had the shackle around her neck.

“Mina, good to see you feeling more yourself. And so quickly. I’m impressed,” Abaddon said, striding over to her and pulling her in for a hug.

Mina hugged them back but looked over their shoulder at Alastor, her eyes looking concerned as they met his.

He hadn’t moved a muscle, remaining stiff as a board as he watched Abaddon.

“What can I say?” she shrugged as she pulled away. “I’m impressive.”

“Are you really okay?” Abaddon asked, more sincere and serious.

“Not out of the woods yet, apparently,” she said and Alastor’s eyebrows rose up, catching the implication that she had nearly lost control while alone in the shower. “I’m okay,” Mina continued, looking at him, and then gestured at his shadow, “that helped me get through it just fine.”

She then turned to Abaddon. “I’m sure your healing me helped tremendously. And Alastor as been nothing short of wonderful. It was a hard night, for both of us.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you completely,” Abaddon said, and Alastor suppressed the urge to make an audible, disgusted noise at the display of concern from them. “But even direct angelic interference is only an aid when it comes to possession. The fight is ultimately up to you. But, as we can all see, you’re one hell of a fighter. Here,” they said as they held out their hand and a small vial of golden liquid appeared hovering above their open palm, “this should help you win the final round.”

Mina took it, looking at it skeptically.

“This is . . . blood?” she guessed, turning the vial and studying the viscosity of the liquid.

Abaddon nodded. “I was inspired by Kassandra’s power. Now, I’m really not supposed to get involved in the politics of Overlords. It’s frowned upon, as you know. But we’ll just keep this one between the three of us and no one will know.”

“It’ll help me get rid of her?” Mina asked.

“Not exactly. Once you feel like you’re ready to take her on in person, drink this. It’ll increase your powers enough to take on even the strongest Overlords. Just temporarily though. Don’t go taking over the city once your done with Kassandra.”

“You won’t be in my head like she is?”

Abaddon frowned, looking a little insulted. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t do that to you, Mina. Especially not after what you just went through.”

“I know,” Mina said, pressing her palm to her forehead and shaking her head. “I know, I’m sorry. There’s just . . . lots of noise up here right now.”

“Of course,” they said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “No need to be sorry. Anyway, I should get going. Alastor,” they said with a polite nod, “Always good seeing you.”

A portal opened behind them and then turned to walk through it.

“Oh, and Mina?” they said, before they had stepped through. “Kick her ass.”

Then they were gone, the portal closing behind them.

Mina turned to Alastor as soon as they were alone.

“Are you okay?” she asked softly.

“No,” Alastor answered truthfully, his voice deeper and more warped than usual. “I could use a few minutes alone.”

Mina gave a nearly imperceptible nod and Alastor disappeared, leaving her alone with his shadow.

Next Chapter ->

Tag list: @inuhalfdemon @saccharine-nectarine @whoknowswhoiamtoday

[zhounauts]

lowkey ; n.riki

inspired by lowkey by NIKI // nishimura riki x f!reader

warnings: not proof read, cursing, secret relationship (?)

1.

wonder what I'll do when the cops come through, and the whiskey's run out

you had told yourself that you’d stay for an hour at most, yet it was past eleven and your promises to study for your chemistry test were long forgotten as you slam shot after shot.

“YEAHHHHHHHHH!” hanni and danielle scream, just as drunk as you are. you giggle, snuggling closer to your best friends and swaying around like an idiot. music pounds in your ears, and the heat radiating from all the people in the room keep you warm. as you drunkly float around the room, someone passes you a shot that you down quickly. the alcohol burns your throat, and you crinkle your face, slightly disgusted.

as the burn fades, a moment of clarity happens and suddenly you’re very much sober. not only that, but in this moment of clarity, you spot who might just be the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

'Cause I've been lookin' at you since half past two Wanna take this downtown? This liquid courage got me way too honest

“who is that?” you ask hanni, pointing at the boy. your drunk friend squints, before descending into a fit of giggles.

“idunno-” she slurs not paying any attention and grabbing another drink. you stare at the boy, and suddenly your sobriety clears and the alcohol clouds your judgement.

“i’ll be back,” you say, without a thought making your way across the room, confidence buzzing through your system. you slow down as you get closer to him, squinting in the dim lighting of the party to try to make out if you recognize him or not. you come to a stop in front of him, and he meets your eyes. you offer him an eye-crinkling smile.

“hey, i’m yn,”

“riki,”

2.

no one's gotta know, just us and the moon 'til the sun starts wakin’

midnight runs to seven eleven, not-so-quiet facetime calls under the covers, and late night playground meet ups were the times where you and riki could fully show your relationship.

no more of the secret looks, lingering gazes, and secret signals that the two of you sent to each other in the hallways at school. so as you lay wrapped up in your weighted blanket, watching through yoru phone screen as riki plays splatoon on his nintendo switch.

“you winning?”

“no dammit! i just died!” riki exclaims, “ughhhhh,”

“aw it’s okay, i still believe in you,”

“i’ve had enough,” he huffs, setting his nintendo switch down, “what are you up to?”

“admiring you,” you wink, sending him stupid finger guns which make him blech.

“i just shuddered,”

“harassment rizz,”

“chronically online,”

“you put up with me still,”

“you know i’ll always put up with you,”

3.

up's the only direction I see as long as we keep this low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low-key (ah, ah, ah, ah)

“hey i gotta use the bathroom,” you tell your friends.

“want us to come?”

“no!” you say a little bit too quickly, you clear your throat, “no no it’s fine, i need to shit honestly,” you lie.

“we did not need to know that,” danielle deadpans.

“yes you did,” you answer quickly, glancing down at your phone screen.

hey come quick

all the guys left already

“i’ll be back before the game starts!” you exclaim hurriedly, dashing from the stands. your phone rings as you run, and you pick it up.

“hey, where you at?”

“on the way rik, i’m not built for long distance running,” he laughs into the phone.

“i’m in that small storage room next to the locker room so there’s an even smaller chance no one will see us,”

“smart as always,” you smile into the phone, “i’m coming in,”

“alright, see you,” he says, the phone call drops as you eagerly make your way through the silent hallway.

“locker room. . .” you mutter to yourself, looking for the door.

“BOO!”

”AHH!” you scream, riki smothers your scream and gives you a boyish grin as he pulls you into the small room.

“holy shit riki!”

“wuss,”

“your wuss,”

“thats right,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“good luck on the game, you got this,”

“mm,” he mumbles, “i always got it,”

4.

Take a shot, take a chance, take my hand, boy Tension so intense like an asteroid Be discreet, gotta dodge all the tabloids

“yn?”

“hanni?” you answer your phone groggily.

“oops, did we wake you up from your nap?”

“yeah” you answer, “what do you need?”

“danielle and i are outside doofus, let us in,”

“what?”

“don’t tell us you forgot about halloweekend!”

“oh shit,” you say, “hold up give me a second! fuck—”

“don’t you have a spare key? we can just—”

“NO!” you exclaim, “just wait let me get dressed!”

“yn are—” you hang up the phone, and quickly toss it aside to shake riki awake.

“riki! riki!”

“whathappened?” he mumbles.

“danielle and hanni are coming over. over as in they’re outside right now,” riki’s up in an instant, shooting up from his sprawled position on your bed.

“what?”

“you can slip out the window that's in the bathroom,” you quickly say, “it leads to the back,” he nods quickly following you out.

“i’ll see you later riki,”

“call me,” he mouths, before slipping out the window.

5.

Let's not think too much, there ain't no problems So long as we keep this Low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low-key

“do you like what we have?”

“what?” you ask, “what do you mean by that riki?”

“i mean,” he scratches his head, “i was talking to jake today and he said that girls don’t like lowkey relationships like ours. i mean— i just don’t want you to feel like i’m keeping you hidden,”

“riki of course not,” you answer quickly, “ i like what we have and i like this whole lowkey thing. i like that we don’t have expectations or pressure form other people, i like that it’s really just us in this relationship,” riki smiles, and he presses a kiss to your temple.

“i like it to, and i think i might love you,”

“you think?”

“nah, i’m sure,”

Low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low-key

a/n

ngl this is the first time i've written in months, this isn't proof read AT ALL i just wanted to post something cuz my account is well uhm, dying!!

pls lmk how this is!

taglist @soobincantswim @k-films

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Love You Too (Part 2)

Summary: As Jensen struggles to juggle solo parenting, Y/N becomes a safe place for him so he can be more present for his children. The more time he spends with her though, the more he has to deal with if he can or even should love again...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jenssen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 7,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, death of a spouse, lying, mentions of injury/death of a spouse/death of a parent, internal turmoil

A/N: Please enjoy all the torture I put poor Jensen through in this one!

______

“Hey, Jensen,” said Y/N the next day when she came back with her things to move in. I popped my head up from waxing Baby in the garage, Y/N giving me a smile.

“Hey. I got your house keys, credit card, garage door opener and sensor for the gate all set in your room,” I said.

“Thanks,” she said, opening the backseat of her car and pulling out a duffel. “Cool car.”

“Yes she is. Do you need help moving anything?” I asked. She shook her head and put the duffel over her shoulder, taking out a large suitcase and backpack before shutting the door. “If you need to make more trips you’re more than welcome to borrow the SUV.”

“Oh this is it,” she said with a smile, walking past and for the the garage door. She must have caught my face before I could make it blank, a little smirk appearing on hers. “I travel light.”

“Alright. If you need help with anything-”

“I got it Jensen,” she said. “But thanks. I’m just going to try and familiarize myself with everything today so I’m ready to go in the morning.”

“But you don’t-”

“You said you’re an actor?” she asked. I nodded and she adjusted the bag on her shoulder. “Do you wait until you show up on set to read a script or do you do that before hand?”

“Fair point,” I said. She headed inside and I went back to Baby, JJ coming a short while later looking for her chalk bucket. 

“Dad,” she said, bucket in hand as I finished up on the hood. “Will you play with us?”

“As soon as I’m done with chores,” I said, tossing the rag in the bucket and placing the bottle back in the cupboard on the top shelf. She picked up the half full jug of wiper fluid and I quickly snatched it out of her hand. “JJ. You are not supposed to touch anything in this cabinet and you know that. It’s dangerous.”

“I just wanna help you,” she said.

“I don’t need any help.”

“I wish you died instead of mom,” she said. She took off out to the driveway, Y/N walking back out to the garage at that exact moment.

“Jensen she didn’t mean that,” said Y/N as I put the jug away and grabbed a pair of work gloves from the bench. “You know how kids are.”

“They’d be better off with her than me. I know that’s true,” I said. I put on the gloves, Y/N walking around the car over to me. “Do you need something?”

“Why don’t I take the kids to the park for an hour? I’ll watch them. You take care of you, okay?”

“She’s seven. I know she didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah but dad needs to get his shit together after a comment like that. I’ve been in her shoes and believe me, all she wants is the parent she has left to be there. That’s all she wants.”

“I thought your dad…” I trailed off. She looked away and I nodded. “I’ll take the kids. I can ask the lawn service people to add a few things to their list.”

“What chores did you have left?” she asked. 

“Y/N, you start work tomorrow.”

“Jensen. What’s my job?”

“Take care of the kids.”

“Exactly. Me helping you going to play with your children, especially when one of them is upset right now, is my job. That takes care of them. Now what chores did you need to get done?”

“Water the outside bushes and plants. Prep lunches for school and daycare, snacks for the week.”

“Well I will handle the meal prep tomorrow morning. Point me in the direction of the hose and then I want to see your four tushes out of this house and coming back in a little while with smiles. Okay?”

“I’m gonna pay you for today,” I said. 

“Alright. Now go,” she said. 

“I owe you one.”

“Shoo Jensen,” she said. I took off the gloves and held up my hands. Fifteen minutes later the twins were rushing over to the playground to play with a friend from daycare that just so happened to be there and I was unfolding the blanket on the grass. “Do you want to play with me honey?” I asked. JJ stood there grumpily, shaking her head. “Why not?”

“You don’t want to play with me,” she said. She sat down and put her back to me, staring at the playground. I leaned over and picked her up, falling back on the ground and holding her up above me. 

“We can play-” I said before she squirmed and I dropped her. Straight onto my hip. I bit back every word threatening to slip out, JJ kneeling beside me as my face scrunched up.

“Dad?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” I breathed out. I forced myself to sit up, JJ hugging me tightly. 

“I’m sorry. I hurt your hip.”

“It’s alright. We have to be careful of it still is all,” I said, the pain fading away quickly. She still clung to me and I pulled her into my lap, kissing her temple. A woman walking by gave me a weird look and paused. “What’s your problem?”

She scoffed and took off, JJ quiet for a few minutes.

“Dad. There’s a police officer with that lady,” she said. I looked back over my shoulder, spotting a cop walk over to us. 

“Afternoon,” he said. 

“Hello,” I said, standing up, JJ tucking in close to my side. “Is there a problem?”

“Is this your daughter?” he asked. I glanced at the woman back on the path and gave her a glare. “Sir.”

“Yes I’m her father,” I sighed. “Those two twins over on the playground are mine too.”

“Do you have a photo sir?” he asked. I reached behind myself and got out my wallet, pulling out a picture and holding it out. “Is this the children’s mother?”

“Yes.” 

“Dad what’s going on?” asked JJ.

“A misunderstanding, honey,” I said. “Go play on the swings. I’ll be over in just a second.”

“Is this your father?” he asked her. She scowled and stepped in front of me. He knelt down and smiled. “What’s your name sweetie?”

“JJ. I want to go play with my dad.”

“I know. I just have to make sure kids like you are safe. It’s part of my job.”

“You suck at your job,” she said.

“JJ. Apologize,” I said.

“He’s being mean!”

“He’s doing his job. Apologize,” I said. She mumbled a sorry, the officer nodding as he stood up. 

“You can go play now JJ,” said the officer. She grumbled and went over to the swings when I waved her, the officer nodding. “You were seen hugging a small child. This was a welfare check on the child is all.”

“Am I free to go?” I sighed.

“Sorry for the inconvenience sir,” he said. 

“You know single fathers exist,” I said to the woman. The cop spun around and narrowed his eyes.

“You said the children��s mother was in the photo.”

“Yes she is. That photo is the last one I have of us all before she was killed in a car accident last year. Ackles. I’m sure you can look up the accident report,” I said.

“Have a good day sir,” he said. I turned around and ran my hands over my face, JJ suddenly at my side and hugging me again, two smaller pairs of arms joining her. I looked down, all three of them there and hugging my legs.

I took a deep breath. I was okay. I was okay.

“Come on. Let’s go have some fun on the swings.”

“Jesus,” I said, jumping up from my chair on the balcony that night. I walked over to the edge and looked down, Jared mid swing of another bean bag being tossed up there. “Calm down. I surrender.”

“Answer your fucking phone,” he said. I rolled my eyes and I got smacked in the face with a bag. 

“Jared! I’ll call your mom!” I shouted.

“You deserved that. I heard you had a run in with a cop earlier.”

“TMZ tell you that?”

“No. Our friend. Our friend who found out someone in his department was looking up Dee’s accident report. He found out what happened at the park and now I know and you’re being an asshole hiding away up there ignoring my texts.”

“How am I an asshole? It was no big deal. You’re the one breaking into people’s garages and smacking them in the face with their kid’s toys.”

“Because you promised me yesterday, asshole, you weren’t going to lie to me again. It wasn’t no big deal. You’re upset. I’m upset for you! Worst thing is it’ll probably happen again. I just…”

“The cop was doing his job. I just need to spend more time with the kids. Not doing chores or crap for them but being with them. Playing with them. It’s fucking getting to JJ and that kid tears my heart apart more and more every time I see her hurting like that. She grew up too fucking fast and the twins...they might not even remember their mom.”

“Jensen.”

“The things I say and do…they are children. They should never have to hear me say I don’t need help or think I’m too busy to play with them.”

“But you have been too busy and you do play with them. And you got help. She’s inside right now. Tomorrow you start fresh. You have help. You can be more of dad again instead of mom and dad. They’re tough kids. Don’t worry so much.”

“I know,” I said. I leaned against the railing and sighed. 

“Want me to come up?” he asked.

“I need to try and sleep. Y/N’s probably going to get an early start and have questions in the morning.”

“Okay. Call if you need something.”

“Night,” I said.

“Night,” he waved and I headed back inside. It was close to midnight as I locked up, checking the doors and alarm system one more time. The lights looked to be off in Y/N’s room but that was expected. I skirted upstairs quietly, checking everyone’s room, pausing at Arrow’s when she made a whimper. It was probably a nightmare. Thankfully they didn’t seem to bother her as much as Zeppelin and JJ. 

I pulled her door shut and went down to my room, closing the door softly, grabbing Danneel’s hoodie and putting it on before crawling under the covers in a pair of boxer briefs. I tugged up the hood and pulled the covers up, rolling into the middle of the bed. 

“Please let tomorrow be better. Please.”

“Good morning,” said Y/N, already drinking a cup of coffee and dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain maroon v neck when I walked downstairs. I yawned, no idea how she was already so together at six in the morning.

“Morning,” I mumbled. She had her hair up in a cute messy bun and I looked down at myself. Hair a hot mess and only in a pair of black boxer briefs. “I should probably put on some clothes.”

“This is your house. Wear whatever you normally would. Pretend I’m invisible,” she said. She poured me a cup of coffee into a mug, handing it over with a smile.

“Sounds like you worked for some real assholes,” I said, taking the cup. “As long as it doesn’t bother you, me walking around in my undies.”

“No, not at all,” she said with a little smile. I could have sworn for a second she looked me up and down but that was wishful thinking on my part. I wasn’t in shape like Jared and never would be was but I was fairly decent for being almost 43 years old I liked to think. Still, a very recently thirty year old was probably not thinking someone in their forties was the epitome of hotness. 

Epitome of hotness. Fucking hell. This is fucking worse than when I started falling in love with Dee and that was at least mutual.

“Would you like me to drop the kids off at school and daycare this morning?”

“Sure,” I said, popping my head up and away from what constituted as attractive to thirty year old women these days. “Car keys are on the table by the garage.”

“Okay great. I’m used to driving that kind of SUV,” she said. She seemed busy with making up food so I slipped past her quietly and got out the eggs and tossed a few into a pan. I washed up quickly and got out two pieces of bread, buttering each side and setting it down to wait for the eggs to finish. I yawned and stretched out, Y/N spinning around, staring smack dab at me. I quickly wrapped my arms around myself, shaking my head as I went back to the pan. “Would you like me to make lunch for you as well?”

“No thank you. I’m getting lunch with my manager today. You don’t have to make me coffee in the morning either, Y/N. Your job is to take care of the kids, not me,” I said. She rolled her eyes and I cocked my head.

“A cup of coffee is not difficult, Jensen. My job is to help you so if I can make dad’s life a smidge easier it’ll make theirs better too,” she said with a smile.

“You’re not like, a morning person are you,” I said, chuckling as she shook her head. “I don’t do peppy in the morning.”

“Oh no. I’m always a little nervous when I start a new job. I’ll get a rhythm down soon,” she said as I saw the eggs set.

“So what do you normally do once the kids are dropped off?” I asked, pulling a spatula out of the container on the counter.

“On a weekday I’ll review their schedule, see if anything different is going on. An average day like today I will clean their rooms, their bathroom, do some laundry while they’re at school, maybe some shopping. I’ll pick up the twins, bring them home for lunch, a little playtime, a nap. We’ll have some quiet time and maybe a craft or coloring before we get JJ from school. Then I’ll give them all a snack, we can get outside and play to get some energy out. I’ll help JJ with any schoolwork she has while the twins play and then I will start on dinner about the time you’ll be getting home. Since you have no plans currently tonight I’ll leave you guys be at that point until tomorrow unless you ask me for help.”

I blinked, opening my mouth and staring for a solid five seconds while she kept working on making baggies of snacks.

“So when do you take a break?” I asked.

“Naptime. I’ll have lunch with the twins. Don’t worry about me Jensen. That’s my normal plan but if you would like me to run some errands in the morning I can.”

“No, no. Just…” I trailed off. She really didn’t get why she was here, did she? “I still want to make them breakfast and dinner and play with them too is all.”

“We’ll figure out the right mix of things,” she said. “You just gotta tell me is all, okay? It can vary day to day too.”

“Yeah,” I said, taking the fried egg out of the pan and placing it on one piece of bread. I put the other piece on top and made a sandwich, taking a big bite. I let out a quiet sigh. I didn’t want her to do everything. Just help. But where was that fucking line? I was either going to do too much or too little and fuck everything up again. I felt her staring as I looked out the back window, taking another bite of food. “I never asked. How was your birthday?”

“Hm?” she hummed, a glance over my shoulder catching her dropping some carrots into a reusable bag.

“On Saturday you said it was your 30th. You do anything fun that night?” I asked with a soft smile. I dared to spin back around, her back to me while she worked. She probably went out with friends, got drinks. 

Maybe picked up a guy.

I looked down, squeezing my eyes shut. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop fucking thinking about her like that.

“I got a new job. That was the highlight of my day,” she said as she spun around, my head quickly snapping up before she noticed. I couldn’t help but cock it though. It was her birthday. Her thirtieth. She was beautiful. How was getting another nanny job the highlight of it? Maybe she felt self-conscious about it. No idea why, she looked amazing. “I ordered pizza, binged netflix. My normal Saturday routine.”

“I know everybody jokes about 30 but it’s really just jokes. Wait until you’re 42,” I chuckled, Y/N smiling. “Then you really feel old.”

“Most 42 year olds would kill to look like you,” she said. She shut your eyes and shook her head but I smiled when she looked away. Maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. “I’m so sorry. That was so inappropriate.”

“It’s alright. I took it as a compliment,” I said. She looked embarrassed and I cleared my throat, taking a bite of food. “So you did nothing for your birthday, huh?”

“Uh, no,” she said, mixing in some grapes into each of the snack bags. I frowned and popped the last piece of food into my mouth. Why didn’t she celebrate? Not even a slice of cake? A little lightbulb went off in my head and I started to smile, Y/N giving me a strange look.

“I’m gonna get you a birthday cake,” I said. She looked mortified and started to shake her head but I held up a hand.

“Mr. Ackles-”

“I thought I said it’s Jensen. I’m the boss so what I say goes. We’re gonna have a birthday cake for you tonight. So. What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Whatever you want is perfectly fine.” I rolled my eyes and groaned, swearing I caught a quick smile on her face.

“Y/N.”

“…I like red velvet,” she said. I broke out into a huge smile and laughed. Of course. Of fucking course she said red velvet.

“That was my wife’s favorite,” I said. “Haven’t had that since her birthday. She would have liked you.”

“You think so?” she asked. I took a deep breath and felt calm for a moment, nodding back at her.

“Yeah. You’re quite kind to me. She was always protective of me, even if she was the scaredy cat most of the time.”

“Can I ask how…” she said. The calm quickly left and I swallowed. I told her died unexpectedly in a car accident right? Or just died unexpectedly? No, I said car. Right. Car accident. Fuck, why’d I have to start saying she died in her sleep too. Because that made more sense than the fucking brain aneurysm while driving but that was our shitty luck...she’s staring idiot. Talk. Now.

“Accident. Tractor trailer versus her car. He tried to miss her but it was too late. I wanted to hate the guy too but it was an accident and I couldn’t blame him for that.”

“My father died in a car crash when I was six. It does get better with time,” she said.

“That’s why you didn’t know if he had a picture of you in his wallet or not,” I said as she nodded. She looked away and I shuddered at the thought the kids wouldn’t know things about their mother. “You’re too young to have that much tragedy in life.”

“So are you.”

“I’m not young anymore.”

“You’re young and overly generous,” she said with a smile. She was being polite. Or maybe not. Either way I’d take it.

“Misery loves company,” I said as we both heard a few feet above us running around. “Munchkins are up.”

“You want to make breakfast or should I?” she asked.

“Give me five minutes to get them in some clean clothes. Then I can show you how they like their eggs.”

“Sounds like a plan, Jensen.”

I headed upstairs, catching Zeppelin chasing Arrow up and down the hall, both of them giggling before stopping at my feet.

“Daddy you’re all smiley,” said Arrow. I looked down and shook my head, her eyes lighting up. “Yes you are!”

“It must be because you two are going to run off and get dressed this morning all by yourselves,” I said. They shared a look, that twin look, and both took off running with slightly evil laughs. “I fear the day you two are teenagers.”

“Good morning,” yawned JJ, walking out of her room dressed and giving me a hug. 

“Good morning,” I said, bending down and picking her up, giving her a squeezing hug.

“Okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Daddy’s okay today,” I said, a thud and Zeppelin running back crying. “What hurts buddy?”

“I don’t know,” he said as I squatted down with JJ on my good hip, picking him up and settling him on the other.

“Well, that’s okay. Sometimes you just gotta cry it out,” I said. He made a face but I smiled, his confusion getting him to calm down by the time Arrow was running down the hall. 

“Daddy,” she groaned. I chuckled and spun around, Arrow climbing up on my back. 

“Who needs a workout when you got a hundred pounds on your back,” I said. “Alright, alright. We can have breakfast in pajamas today. I want you guys on your best behavior for Y/N okay? She’s new and has a lot to learn still, like your favorite eggs.”

“Hot sauce,” said JJ.

“That’s my girl,” I chuckled, feeling her hug me hard for a split second. I kissed the top of her head and went back towards the stairs. “Alright. Who’s hungry?”

“Hey handsome,” I heard as I was walking through the parking lot. I spun around, sighing as Jared walked over with a laugh. 

“Why must you do that?” I sighed.

“Cause seeing that look on your face is funny,” he said, looking me up and down. “Heading in?”

“Finished up for the day. More Batman, some video game and my manager wanted me to record an audition for some animated movie. You?”

“Walker dubbing. Again,” he said. “You’re not going strictly voice acting on me are you?”

“No. Just was kinda easy to do that while I was recovering. Drive downtown, record, drive home.”

“Excited for The Boys?”

“Yeah. Nervous. I never really made a final decision on what to do with the kids. My parents offered to stay at the house and watch them.” Jared cleared his throat and I smiled. “I know you offered too. But I just…”

“I know. You thought things were different when you took the job,” said Jared. “When The Boys is over you know I could get you a recurring guest start spot on Walker. Like anytime.”

“I know,” I shrugged, rubbing my arm. “It’s your show though. I mean we literally ended Supernatural last year. I don’t want to butt in.”

“Why would you think that?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. I rolled mine, Jared grabbing my arm, walking between the cars with me. “You are really starting to scare me.”

“Because I want to give you space and let your show be your show? Dude, relax. I didn’t say I don’t want to. I can’t wait to work with you again. But the show is new and it’s your baby right now. I’ll be on someday, I promise.”

“I just-”

“I know. But I have ideas and projects and losing Dee changed things. Maybe I do want to be able to work at home in Austin more. But let me figure that out first?”

“Fine,” grumbled Jared.

“Hey. I’ll make you a deal. I will absolutely direct in season 2 and maybe I can do a guest spot or two if you and me sit down sometime this year and brainstorm that reboot mini-series for like five years from now. Deal?”

“I was gonna do that anyways,” said Jared with a big smile, holding out his hand. I shook it, getting a quick hug. “How’s the hot nanny?”

“Shut up,” I said, pushing him away but smiling. 

“You still like her?”

“Honestly? I think I’m in deep shit.”

“Good,” he said. “I like that dumb fucking smile on your face.”

“I bought her a birthday cake. Is that weird?”

“Not unless it’s not here birthday.”

“It was on Saturday but she didn’t celebrate for some reason.”

“No, not weird then,” he said. “Find out if she’s single yet?”

“Not a clue.”

“Find out tonight buddy.”

“I’ll try. I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later Jackles.”

“Thanks for giving up your night with them. I didn’t mean to have that happen,” I said after Y/N finished reading the kids a bedtime story. 

“It’s no problem. It’s good bonding for us,” she said as we headed back downstairs to the kitchen. She helped pick up the plates at the table and wash them off before sticking them in the dishwasher. She looked a little tired but for some reason that made her look even prettier. I swallowed and went over to the tall cabinet and reach up top, grabbing a bottle of whiskey as Y/N covered up what was left of the cake. 

“Drink?” I asked. She smiled and pinched her fingers close to each other.

“A small one,” she said. I poured a single into a whiskey glass for her, smirking when she took a sip and made a face. “Oh that’s smooth.”

“Very,” I said, pouring my own glass. “Thank you for tonight. JJ’s been…”

“She’s the oldest. She’s gonna have a harder time with it.”

“You were about her age when your dad died you said?” I asked. She nodded and took a deep breath.

“She’ll be okay. She’ll miss her but it won’t be a deep pain. She’ll have nice memories of her mom. She’s doing pretty good, trust me.”

“Can I ask another personal question?”

“I’m off the clock. Shoot,” she said.

“Your mom ever…try again with someone else?” She waited a beat but smiled, nodding a few times.

“Yes. Years later she found a good guy. He actually is who I stayed with after she passed. He’s married now, has some kids of his own but I know if I call him up he’d drop everything for me.”

“Good. I was getting afraid you were a complete Shakespeare tragedy,” I chuckled. Whew. At least she had somebody out there to watch her back if she needed it.

“Nah. I’m not at that level of crazy in my life,” she said. “As long as we’re off the clock, can I ask if you’re asking because you’re thinking of getting back out there?”

I took a drink and smiled. Still perceptive. Still adorable. But her face looked gentler almost, like she’d drop it in a second if I asked.

“I am. My wife kind of insisted on it. When we first got serious we had this deal that we’d go try again if something happened. I mean, I don’t cry everytime I think about her now. I can smile and be happy and that ache doesn’t try to swallow me up everyday anymore. I think it’s time I could get back out there.”

“I’d say it is. The kids are ready. They’ll understand.”

“You think your mom loved the second guy as much as your dad?”

“For sure. She was a bit of a free spirit but she didn’t think you had to have just one soulmate. She told me that after she’d met Ray. She said she got two so maybe I had two out there. I haven’t found either one of them yet so I’ll take increasing my odds as best I can.”

Oh. Oh God she’s single.

Yes!

Fucking yes! I swallowed, thinking what she’d just said and grinned. Two soulmates. I kind of liked the sound of that.

“Well you’re not gonna meet your soulmate sitting at home on Saturday nights, Y/N.” I said, clearing my throat.

“Just a lot of douchey guys,” she said.

“Ah. You need to meet a better kind of guy is all.”

“Yeah see I’m thirty. All the good guys are married by now.”

“Oh all of them are taken. I didn’t realize that,” I said with a chuckle. “What am I then? Another douchebag?”

“You don’t count. You’re…”

“Too old for you?” I laughed nervously. Oh how the hell any woman had ever gone out with me was a miracle. I was a fucking wreck at this.

“My boss. Plus you’re like famous. You can go get like a victoria secret model or something.”

“Looks ain’t everything.” 

“Maybe I ought to try older guys now that you say that,” she said. I took another sip and let it burn in the back of my throat. Go slow idiot. Test the waters a bit.

“Y/N, you gotta be careful with that. I don’t want to see you get taken advantage of.”

“And this is why I watch netflix on Saturday nights,” you said.

“You serious about the older guy crack?” I asked.

“I do find them more…attractive sometimes. I guess it depends on how old. Why?”

Maybe she was looking me up and down that morning...maybe.

“I got a friend my age, might be interested?” I asked, hiding behind a smile. Why the fuck did I say that? All I wanted to know was if she’d consider someone older, not that.

“I don’t know,” she said. “No offense to your friend but…I mean if he’s 42…I want kids and stuff you know? Although a dude it doesn’t really matter how old…I don’t know.”

“It was just a thought,” I said. I took another sip but she was smiling. Okay. Maybe that wasn’t two old for her.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “He’s not a weirdo, right.”

“No. He’s an actor. Something to think about.”

“I will,” she said, sounding like she meant it. “Thank you for the birthday cake, Jensen. You’re a good person.”

“I bought a cake.” She looked down and finished off her drink, the air heavy for a few seconds, her body tense before it relaxed. 

“Yeah but I haven’t really had one of those in years. You’re a good person.”

“You’re very welcome,” I said as she slid off her seat. “You’re free to hang out if you like.”

“I’m kinda tired. I won’t be getting up that early from now on I don’t think.”

“I completely understand. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight Jensen.” She headed down the hall to her room and I put the liquor away, checking the hallway after a beat, her door shut. I wanted to give her a hug but that was crossing a line. 

“Daddy,” said Arrow, walking down into the kitchen. I turned and smiled, walking back over. “Can I have a little milk?”

“Okay but just a little. Want it warmed up?” I asked. She hummed and I poured her a small glass in one of her sippie cups, heating it up before popping on the lid and handing it over. “Back to bed now.”

“Why didn’t Y/N’s mommy and daddy get her a birthday cake?” she asked.

“Y/N’s parents aren’t around anymore munchkin. She lost her mommy and daddy when she was a kid too.”

“Oh,” she said softly, pausing by the bottom of the stairs. She stared, the gears grinding in her head. She’d only been three at the time but she actually understand strangely enough what it meant that mom was gone. Zeppelin was the hard case to crack but she somehow explained it to him and one day it clicked for him too. 

“Honey?” I asked, squatting down beside her. 

“Does mommy know Y/N’s parents now?” she asked.

“Maybe,” I said with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“I hope so.”

“Me too. Go on up to bed now. I’ll race you.” She took off with her cup and I smirked when she got to the top of the stairs. “That one never fails.”

“You think I’m hot,” I said to myself the next day. I hummed as I walked into the bathroom, sweating after working out. Y/N was hopefully enjoying her break. I grinned, looking at myself in the mirror and ripping my shirt off. “She was so staring. She was so staring.”

I started to undress, whistling before I turned on the water, catching myself in the mirror again. My eyes landed on the scar and I quickly looked away, getting under the stream.

“Stop acting like a fucking idiot. She doesn’t even...of course she’d stare. I stare at good looking sweaty men of course she would too.” I sighed and sat down on the shower bench, putting my head in my hands. “Dee tell me what to do. Please. Make me forget this girl exists.”

“Jensen! I’m going to the store!” called Y/N through the closed bedroom door.

“Drive safe!” I shouted back. I lifted my head and stood up, pursing my lips. “Gonna make me figure this out on my own, aren’t you.”

I tilted my head back under the water, swallowing thickly. 

“Jensen! I just took a shower!” said Dee, smiling when I pulled her flush to me. 

“Take another one,” I said, kissing her soft lips, her hands resting on my hips and squeezing them. “Bed.”

“The kids have to go to camp in less than-”

“Fine,” I groaned, throwing my head back. I jumped when she slapped my ass, slipping out of the shower.

“I’ll play with you later,” she teased. She grinned as she used my towel to dry off before she went back to her vanity to do her makeup quickly. 

“Dee?”

“Because I’m over forty and you know how some of the moms are. Fucking little vultures,” she said, putting on some mascara. 

“I didn’t say anything,” I hummed.

“You were thinking it.”

“That you’re hot without makeup? Oh no. I wasn’t thinking that at all,” I said, giving her a bitchface. “Are you ever going to stop giving a fuck what other people think?”

“No,” she sighed. “But I am better.”

“I know. You sure you don’t want to shower with me?” I asked, jutting out my lip. She smiled and winked. “Dee.”

“Later sweetie. I promise.”

I looked over to the empty vanity. That was the last morning she stood there. Fucking worried about looking put together enough for the carpool line. I breathed deeply, looking at the pile of sweaty clothes on the floor, Y/N popping into my head.

“I like her Dee. I really fucking like her. I don’t know what to do.”

Three Days Later

“Hey,” said Jared, already out front of his when I got there. “Everything cool?”

“No,” I said. “Drink?”

He waved and I followed him around to the back table, Jared leaving and returning after a moment with a bottle and two glasses.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. I took a long sip and sighed.

“Y/N got hurt tonight.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yeah she’s fine. A scrape. But Jared...this is not a crush. I’m positive of it.”

“Didn’t we already establish that?” I turned my head and glared, Jared giving it right back. “Dude. What are you asking? Permission?”

“No. I don’t need anyone’s permission to date someone.”

“So I take it Y/N is in fact single.” I nodded, Jared leaning back in his chair. “Jensen. Dee can’t tell you that it’s okay. You have to trust that she’d want you to be happy again.”

“I know she does but...it feels wrong. I feel like I’m cheating on her with another woman.”

“Have you told Y/N-”

“No. As far as she’s concerned I’m just her nice boss. Jesus Jare, this poor girl has had a more fucked up life than me easily and she’s so nice and kind and I can’t throw my shit on top of her.”

“Jensen. How old were you when you started to date Dee?” he asked.

“Twenty nine ish. Why?”

“So for twenty nine years before that you were on your own. You dated other people but no one that you loved like that. Do you really want to go another twenty nine years, more than that, on your own?”

“I want my wife back.”

“Spit out what you’re spiraling over. What, you think Dee will love you less if you love another woman?”

“I’m not having this discussion with you.” I stood up, Jared catching my wrist. I tugged on it, Jared getting to his feet and staring me down. “Move.”

“I know you’re not used to being the one with the problems. I know I’m the one always screwing up and always needing you to take care of me but I’m the one in charge this time. Now sit your ass down and talk or I swear to God I will call up every member of your family right now and tell them you haven’t seen a damn therapist at all.”

“Don’t threaten me,” I growled.

“I say we call them anyways. You’re the one that to this day continues to check that Jared doesn’t miss therapy,” said Gen, shoving a bowl of chips on the table when she stepped out there. “Always have to be the tough one don’t you Ackles. Go to fucking therapy and let them deal with you because obviously we’re not getting through that head of yours.”

“You told her?” I snapped.

“He didn’t tell me shit. I’ve always known you weren’t going.” I stared at her and she crossed her arms. “I live with Jared. I know when someone is actually going and when someone is pretending to. I’ve kept my mouth shut because I thought he knew the whole time. Jensen, you need help. Real help.”

“Well I’m sorry. Obviously I didn’t realize how much I was bothering you two,” I said. I took a step, Jared squeezing my wrist. 

“Tell her,” said Jared. “Tell her about Y/N.”

“What happened to your nanny?”

“Jens?” said Gen, sliding a plate of leftovers in front of me a short while later. I looked up, a soft smile on her face. “I’m sorry for snapping. I thought…”

“I’m sorry for being so defensive. Honestly I’ve been hiding a lot from everyone lately, including Jared.”

“She would not love you less if you fell in love again. I can guarantee it,” she said.

“Part of me knows that. The other part of me feels so damn guilty for even entertaining the thought of another woman.”

“But why? Because you think Dee would be upset?”

“Because how is that far to her and the other woman? How can I love two woman completely like that at the same time? It’s not fair to either one of them.”

“You love JJ?” asked Jared, leaning back against the counter.

“Of course.”

“Zeppy? Arrow?”

“Obviously.”

“How can you possibly love three children completely at the same time? It’s not fair right?” said Jared. I blinked, a smirk on his face. 

“That’s…” I started, poking at my food. “Okay that actually kinda makes sense. You couldn’t have said that to me like a week ago?”

“You weren’t being this much of a dumbass a week ago,” said Jared. I pouted, getting a side hug from Gen. 

“You gonna ask her out?” she asked. I shrugged, Gen ruffling my hair. “Well maybe you can hang out like friends at least.”

“Yeah. I can handle that,” I said. 

“Gen,” said Jared, Gen leaving the room, Jared coming over to my side. 

“You’re gonna say I should go see someone.”

“I’m gonna say, try cutting yourself a break. You’re the nicest guy I know. Try being nice to yourself for a change. Deal?” I nodded and took a few bites of food before standing. 

“Jare. Sorry for...it’s just scary you know? I don’t know if I said goodbye for the last time or not to Dee and…it’s just hard.”

“I think life is too complicated for the two of us to figure out the actual answer to that. But I think she’s up there too pulling her damn hair out watching you freak out over all this. She’d be wingmanning you so hard right now. You know, forget how you feel for a second. Just be Y/N’s friend.”

“I will,” I said. “Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Goodnight lover boy,” he said as I headed for the front door.

“Gen! Jared wants you to do that thing with the little black-“

“Shut up!” said Jared, Gen smiling as I slipped into the sitting room.

“Don’t take it easy on him,” I winked at her.

“I never do,” she said. “Night Jay.”

“Night guys. Thanks for putting up with me.”

“Always.”

One Week Later

“Y/N,” I said, catching her washing her car in the driveway on a Saturday morning. “Got plans today?”

“Uh, I was gonna run to the grocery store in a minute but other than that, no. Need me to watch the kids?”

“No. We were going out to lunch and then going to a little car show was all and we were wondering if you’d like to join us. Totally up to you. My treat.”

“You don’t want me to watch the kids?” she asked. I laughed and crossed my arms. “I’m confused.”

“Do you want to hang out with us today? For fun?” I asked. Come on. Just say yes and have some fun. All you ever do on the weekend is chores and stayed holed away on your side of the house anyways.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s okay. You enjoy your time with the kids.”

“How do I make this clearer,” I said, walking over to her and looking down. “I want you to come with us, as a friend, to do something fun, like friends do. This is not work. Come if you want to.”

“You sure you want me to come?” she asked. I rolled my eyes and plopped my baseball cap off my head and onto hers as I walked away. She tilted the brim up, looking up through her lashes, a soft smile on her face.

“Yes. And wear sunscreen,” I said. “We’re leaving at eleven thirty.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you guys then.”

_________

A/N: Part 3 coming TBD!

[sabraeal]

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2024, Day 2: Foxtrot

Written not only for Obiyukiweek but also for @sepalina, the last winner of the holiday raffle! It was never supposed to take so long to finish all of these but HERE WE ARE 🤣

The Marshal’s office might be the finest under the fortieth floor, but as nice as it is, Shirayuki has to admit: she’s getting sick of it.

“Sit down.” He already is, sparing her no more than a curl of his fingers as he pores over the tablet in his hand. “I’ve taken the liberty of arranging some tea.”

Making her mug appear was magic the first dozen times he managed it, but over that last two weeks, it’s turned from treat to trick. Just another one of the hundreds of ways the Marshal can pull the dome’s strings, closing and opening curtains, making tea mugs and pilots appear out of thin air. Maybe for his next trick, he’ll saw Zen in half too.

Shirayuki takes her seat, but she declines to take a sip. A detail that draws the Marshal’s interest; he glances up, setting aside the tablet with a hum. “All business today, I see, Dr Lyon.”

“We’re both busy people.” He is, at least, and it’s not as if he can tell how many hours she’s spent staring at the drop ceiling panels rather than academic journals lately just by looking at her. “I didn’t imagine you called me in here to catch up.”

Not when he’s had her in here every other day for the last seven. Shirayuki’s gotten more oversight in the past two weeks than she’s had the whole two years she’s been under this dome, and every last bit of it’s been about—

“The report on Obi’s postmortem.” Izana shifts in his chair without so much as a creak. “I haven’t seen it yet. Was wondering where it might be, in fact.”

Her palms press to the chair’s arms, steadying her. His mouth curls, too knowing, with every stretch of her knuckles. “I’m not done with it.”

“Is that so?” His eyebrows arch toward his hairline, like two terns taking flight. “It’s been several days, Dr Lyon. How unlike you.”

“My analysis” — is protected by doctor-patient confidentiality. That’s what she wants to say, at least, but this isn’t private sector, where the most dangerous piece of machinery one of her clients could get behind is the car they drive home in. No, this is the PPDC and all these people are soldiers, rated to handle ordnance that could take out whole cities, and—

And Obi had pointed one of them right at CIC. “It’s taking longer than expected.”

And would probably never be done. One session was hardly enough to get the broad strokes of something so…complex, let alone declare whether he was mentally fit enough to climb back in a Jaeger. And Obi didn’t seem to be in any rush to put himself back in the Conn-Pod— let alone her couch.

“Then give me your opinion.”

“Excuse me?” Shirayuki blinks. “It would hardly be professional to—”

“I am not interested in your professional integrity, Dr Lyon.” No, of course not; the Marshal’s made it supremely clear that his only concern is whether there will be two bodies strapped into Rex Tyrannis when the next siren blares. “I am interested in your expertise.”

“But it— it’s all conjecture,” she sputters, an indignant flush struggling its way over her cheeks. “There’s no possible precedence for me to base an opinion on…just…just…gut feeling!”

“You sell yourself short, Doctor.” Sharks smile with more sincerity than the Marshal smirks. “Around here, they call that instinct. All those rangers— they live or die by it.”

With his three-piece suit and hair longer than the regulations that ban it, it’s easy to forget: Izana Wisteria used to be one of them. “I can’t—”

“Tell yourself we’re having a friendly chat, if you have to.” His hands fold neatly over his desk, impatience in every twitch. “But for God’s sake, Doctor, tell me something.”

Her mouth works, trying to conjure some other excuse— integrity, ignorance, anything that might buy her another day, another week before she has to label Obi a lost cause or ready for action—

But when her eyes close, the lids bleed plasma blue, just the way they had in the CIC. “If I were treating a patient in the private sector, I would say they were experiencing chronic, coherent, and vivid auditory hallucinations, possibly consistent with a trauma of some kind, either physical or psychological.”

“You think he’s experiencing a break with reality.” The Marshal doesn’t so much move as lengthen, the space between chair and desk yawning into a chasm with only a tilt of his chin. “Schizophrenic. That’s what you would call it, isn’t it?”

His teeth snap around the word, steely enough to make her toes curl.

“That’s only one out of a dozen possible diagnoses.” Though certainly the top of a very small list. “And even with a typical patient, the lack of other obvious and intrusive psychoses would make a schizophrenia diagnosis hardly past muster.”

“A typical patient, hm?” One elegant brow raises. “And what about our dear Major, then?”

“With Obi…” She licks her lips, one knee crossing tightly over the other until she half twisted in her seat. “With Obi, I’m not even certain it is a psychosis.”

His head tilts. “Explain.”

Shirayuki clears her throat, nerves making her voice threadier, higher as she says, “There is an observable phenomenon found among rangers that have drifted for a prolonged period of time with the same copilot, a…synchronicity that extends past the initial Neural Handshake and into their everyday lives. You might be familiar with the term ghost drifting.”

The Marshal’s mouth curls at a corner. “Intimately.”

“Right, well, some people might find themselves reaching for a snack that they can’t stand simply because their copilot craves it, while others report a…heightened awareness of their partner’s emotions— or sometimes even thoughts— without them being expressed verbally.” There were its skeptics, of course, but most of those papers came from the private sector, from professionals who has never set foot on a hangar deck but wrote analyses of works of those who did, calling them sentimental at best and intellectually compromised at worst. The sort of baseless, armchair speculation that could be cured by five minutes in any dome’s commissary. “There’s not much independent study on the exact mechanics of it, but there’s theories based on casual observation from data collected from K-Science. That at some point the brain stops thinking of the other mind as a foreign entity but some other part of itself, and when the Handshake is over and the Pons completely disconnects, it experiences the copilot’s body as a, er…”

“Phantom limb?”

“Yes, exactly.” Shirayuki does not smile so much as relax, the corners of her mouth naturally settling more up than down. PPDC may not see much human conflict— few soldiers do nowadays, not when there’s a much more extraterrestrial threat looming on the doorstep— but it’s still military. As much as the branches might love to butt heads, jockeying to be the biggest, buffest kid on the world’s playground, amputation’s always been the great equalizer. “Except— ah, I don’t know if you know the science behind it, but…?”

Izana opens a hand, magnanimous. “Assume that I don’t.”

Ah, right. With the other branches, their soldiers still get to go home after a failed engagement. The most Rangers can hope for is for the kaiju to take them out quick before their Jaeger becomes a titanium coffin on the ocean floor. “I’m sure it comes as no surprise when I say that the amputation process is traumatic— not just for the patient, but for their body as well. Multiple organ systems are cut— bone, muscle, skin, blood vessels, and, most importantly, their nerves. They all heal over time, but it’s the nerves that take the longest. So when they get stimulated— ah, like when a patient moves, or twitches, or even just gets an itch— the sensory fibers will report what they should be feeling, rather than what they do. It’s…it’s neural feedback, with nowhere to go. No, wait, more like…with no place to come from.”

“And this…is what you think the Major is experiencing?” It’s impossible to tell what Izana thinks; his face might as well be a mirror for as much as she’s getting off of him. “That it’s all…neural feedback he’s interpreting as his dead copilots.”

“No. Yes. Ah…maybe.” Sweat prickles under her arms and behind her ears, itchy and off-putting. Distracting, which is the last thing she needs to be in front of a man who might as well be a tank of starving piranhas considering his potential to chew up her professional reputation and spit it out. “That’s all theoretical. And it certainly seems plausible, it just…it doesn’t seem to account for, ah…”

He raises a brow. “I am patient, Dr Lyon, but I don’t have all day.”

“Right, it’s just…the phantom limb phenomenon seems to explain what we see when both partners are…extant. But when one dies— especially when they’re in the drift when it happens…” Her shoulders don’t so much shrug as twitch, flinching back from the unknown. “You’ll have to forgive me, there’s not much data on this, since…”

Since most Jaegers don’t make it back home with solo pilots. And the ones that do, well— the PPDC is still military. As far as most Rangers are concerned, psychiatrists are the enemy. “It seems that what remains of them continues to…drift with their copilot. Even after they’re disengaged from the Pons.”

“Are you trying to say that there is an actual ghost in the drift?” Izana leans back in his chair, shadows gathering in the sharp, patrician planes of his face. “That Obi is being haunted by the crew of the Hachimaru?”

“Not haunted.” Her tongue tangles, science and speculation at a roiling boil in her mind before she stumbles out, “Just…what if while they were in the Neural Handshake, they never let go?”

“Does that bring us back to the phantom limb, then?” The Marshal has never posed a question that hasn’t been half an interrogation too, but even Shirayuki has to admit he seems…interested. Invested, even. “A reflexive reach for the familiar? Neural impulses with nowhere to go?”

A shrug is never an answer— it’s a placeholder, an um or a hm in physical form. A pause right before the threshold of discovery, a stalling tactic to keep from facing what lays beyond just not thinking about it. And yet, it’s what Shirayuki does now, trying to keep the rest of her from squirming under the searing light of Izana’s attention. “It’s as likely a theory as any, at least. And in line with the current conclusions being drawn in drift research. It’s just…”

The Marshal’s brow curves in an arc too elegant for a man whose office is so far below the bay it can’t even have windows. “Just?”

There’s an itch this theory doesn’t quite scratch, a niggling that won’t stop pulling at her sleeve. “I don’t know what happened with the Hachimaru. I mean— before what Obi can remember. There’s nothing in the PPDC database on it” — or at least, none that she is cleared to see— “but everything we’ve been told…I mean, child soldiers? The training? There wasn’t even supposed to be a base in Osaka. There’s no telling what was done to those kids, let alone what long-term effects it could have had on their psyche.”

Or their bodies. Or even— even the drift. The implications of who Obi is— what Obi is—

“I’ll see what I can find.”

Shirayuki jerks back as Izana rises from his desk to pace the room. “Pardon me?”

“I’m sure you know my arms have a much further reach than yours, Dr Lyon.” His mouth slants into a smirk; wry, she thinks at first, but when he turns his head, it reads rueful. “If there’s something to find, I’ll find it. And if there isn’t…”

It’s him who shrugs now, but not to say, who knows, but rather— I’ll find it even so. “Now if you’ll excuse me, doctor, I should be getting myself down to the infirmary.”

Instinct has her half out of her chair before she manages, “Has something happened?”

“Ah.” Rueful widens into amused. “So you haven’t heard.”

*

It’s the sort of thing that’s bound to happen in any testosterone-soaked environment; get some young men together, force them to compete for a few coveted opportunities for promotion— and, most importantly, recognition— and it’s inevitable that tempers flare. The Academy’s major export is big egos, and the dome is the pressure cooker the PPDC puts them under, trying to see which will crack first. That Obi’s gotten himself in a dust up now isn’t so much a surprise as it is that it didn’t happen before, but…

She didn’t think it’d be Mitsuhide who put him in the infirmary.

“They’re both there, if you want to get right down to it,” Yuzuri informs her with no little relish, warming up for what will undoubtedly be an entertaining— if not extended— bout of complaining over commissary chicken and rice. “Lowen may have gotten in the harder hit, but I gotta say, that guy gave as good as he got. The major’s covered head to toe in bruises, and none of them are in comfortable places.”

“Is there a comfortable place to have a bruise?” Suzu asks around a mouthful of pudding— eaten first, no matter how many times Shirayuki’s insinuated dessert is supposed to be a treat for finishing a meal, not just sitting down to one. “I’ve gotten a couple in some pretty inaccessible places, and I don’t know, they always seem to hurt more than just like, my elbow, or even my leg.”

“That’s not the point, Suzu.” Yuzuri flicks her ponytail over her shoulder, unconcerned by how much of him is caught in the spray. “There’s not a single guy under the dome that hasn’t thrown down with the major and been dismantled for the trouble, and here Obi goes, deciding to go bare fists against him with no ref, no rules. He should have been wheeled out of the gym in a body bag, but the guy doesn’t even have a concussion.”

“Woah.” His eyes blow wide, mouth rounding to match— or at least, it tries; Suzu snaps his teeth shut just as they all are reminded that pudding isn’t liquid or solid, but a third, utterly different state of matter, beholden to its own rules. “I’ll have to tell him—”

“Don’t you say a word about it!” Yuzuri waggles a warning finger at him; her implied menace more effective at stopping Suzu in his tracks than if she’d laid hands on him. “Sure, I’m impressed as hell, but if that guy gets one whiff of positive reinforcement on this, he’ll be unlivable, and you know it!”

“Aw, but—”

“Nope! You figure out some other way to make your bromance blossom or whatever” She huffs, taking a desultory bite of the world’s saddest salad. “I refuse to have him hovering around, asking me to tell him how cool he is again. I’ve got my hands full just convincing him he can pee without me holding his dick for him, god.”

The fork jitters right out of Shirayuki’s fingers, landing on the tray with a clink they might be able to hear all the way in the hangar. “Is he really that bad?”

“Huh? Oh, no.” Yuzuri waves her off, scraping out a laugh. “If that was the case, I’d be enjoying this nearly food-like meal in a doggy bag at my desk. But they’re both fine— Obi just likes to see how far he can push this whole invalid shtick before I kick him out for a little peace and quiet.”

Suzu blinks. “How long do you think that is?”

“Twenty-four hours on the dot.” She spears a tomato, letting it bleed all over lettuce and croutons before she puts it behind her teeth. “If he hasn’t fallen into a concussive coma by then, he’s not my problem.”

“Unless he finds another way to hurt himself,” Suzu offers, thoughtful. “The Rangers are pretty good at that.”

Yuzuri sighs hard enough her bangs flutter. “Don’t remind me.”

“But he’s all right?” Shirayuki clears her throat as they turn to stare at her. “I mean, both of them. They’re…fine?”

“Well, obviously I can’t say uninjured, but it’s all just bumps and bruises.” Yuzuri’s shoulders twitch toward a shrug. “They’re in the infirmary more out of an abundance of caution than any real concern. And in Obi’s case, well”—she snorts, shaking her head— “he’s enjoying the idea of being waited on hand and foot. I’m just lucky the Marshal wanted a word, otherwise I’d be fending off spoon-feeding requests all dinner.”

Shirayuki blinks. “The Marshal’s still down there?”

“Oh yeah.” There’s a vengeful slant to Yuzuri’s grin, enough to send a shiver down her spine. “He told me to take a whole hour before coming back. And to smell the roses on the way down.”

Suzu lets out a long whistle. “Someone’s in trouble.”

“Multiple someones,” Yuzuri corrects. “Big trouble.”

Shirayuki’s stomach twists, tying itself not just into worried knots but discovering wholly unknown polygons of anxiety. It’s hard to handle Izana seated, even at his friendliest, but Obi— Obi’s stuck in one of the infirmary cots, the Marshal no doubt looming over him, unleashing the full force of his wrath. Oh, she’s run the gamut of Izana’s displeasure in the year and change since she’s come under the dome; she’s weathered his frustration, and impatience, and sometimes downright civil hostility. But mad?

She swallows, nearly choking on the heart lodged in her throat. Mad is something else entirely.

“Too bad,” Suzu sighs, finally scooping up a spoonful of rice. “I’d been hoping to stop by his office and show him the new projections. Now that we’ve solved the rounding error—”

“Wasn’t it a variable?” Yuzuri reminds him, too sweet. “A whole number you completely left out of your precious—”

“—ROUNDING ERROR that Ryuu discovered,” Suzu continues, undaunted, “I think we’re really starting to see that there’s a marked decrease of interval length, followed by an increase of kaiju—”

The table rattles as she stands, half-eaten rice making a liar out of her even as she says, “I think I’m finished.”

Yuzuri glances down at her tray, mouth pursing as she takes in what’s left. “Are you sure? The food actually looks halfway decent tonight. Better than this salad, at least. Should have just taken the lumps with those calories instead of—”

“Yeah.” She can’t eat when her stomach taking more tumbles than an acrobat, no safety net on this bout of nerves. “I just…”

Don’t know what a concussion will do to someone like him, is what she wants to say— what she should say as a professional, as the person who’s being pinned handle his condition long-term. But what she means is, I can’t just let him deal with Izana all on his own.

“I have a thing,” she says lamely. “And some paperwork. I’ll, uh, come back later if I get hungry.”

“Uh-huh,” Yuzuri hums, utterly unconvinced. “Sure.”

Suzu only nods as she slips out from the bench, adding, “Say ‘hi’ to Obi for me.”

*

Worry dogs her heels with every stride she takes down the quiet corridors, the metallic echo of her steps chasing her around every corner. It’s eerie at this time of night; the dome buzzes at most hours, day and night having no meaning without windows to help mark when one rises and the other sets, but with dinner served up hot and ready, only the PPDC’s most essential personal stay at their posts, waiting for the next shift to relieved them.

Shirayuki should be relieved too; going toe-to-toe with the Marshal is the sort of event that some enterprising officer could sell tickets to. With halls this bare— and the only spare set of eyes being Mitsuhide’s, who could probably make a career out of taking other people’s secrets to the grave— she’s practically guaranteed to keep this tête-à-tête private, and yet—

Yet she turns the last corner, and suddenly her slip-ons’ soles might as well be magnets for all struggle it takes to lift them an inch off the floor. It’s impossible to keep forward momentum, to do anything but stand still and wait, and— and—

Interrupting’s the right thing to do— she feels it, deep in her gut; the same place Rangers say they know when someone will take their hand in the drift, or whether a Kaiju’s going to fight to the death or cut and run once they’re against the ropes. It’s what she’d hope someone would do for her, if she was stuck playing wave breaker for Izana’s storm, but still, still—

She’s not sure she’d thank them for it. It might be nice dreaming of the rescue, but when someone actually rides to it, when they take the whole situation out of her hands and tells her to take a back seat, well…

Shirayuki’s known enough princes not to find that charming. Or at least the ones that think they are, taking choices right out of her hands and calling it kindness. The last thing she wants is Obi see her stride in and think, here we go, another person who thinks they can run my life better than me.

Her fingers curl, nails biting into the fleshy part of her palms. She could go in there still, just— just sit beside him as he took his lumps, but it feels too passive, too much like she’s just acting as witness rather than support, like this whole thing is an official part of his treatment, and she— she—

She sees someone idling down the corridor, just across from the infirmary door. A familiar someone, pale hair flopping as he runs his hand through it, looking just as tortured each time he reached for the door, only to flinch away, like it burns.

“Zen?” His name falls off her tongue before she can swallow it, lips too numb to do more than let it stumble out, more habit than question.

He startles, eyes wild as they dart up, looking for all the world like he’d rather have been caught in the women’s locker room than found here. “S-shirayuki! I wasn’t— I mean, I was just” — hanging around in the hallway, it seems like— “I’d been passing by and I thought I’d, er…”

His chin jerks down the junction of corridors; not the way she came, or the way directly opposite where the hangar sits, but the third option, leading back toward— “You were coming from the women’s bathroom?”

“What?” Zen’s neck swivels, chasing grating and plate all the way back to where the sign reads RESTROOM, a clear stick figure and skirt painted next to it. A strange sign to have in a facility where ninety percent of the population elects to wear BDUs regardless of gender, but Shirayuki supposes it makes its point. “No! I, er…”

It’s habit to wait him out, to let him finish composing his thoughts before she makes any attempt to guide him— but impatience wins out, this time. “Were on your way to the infirmary?”

“Ah…yeah. That’s it.” Red blooms over the tips of his ears, like he’s seen too much sun. “I just heard that Mitsuhide was down here, so I thought that I would, you know, check up on him.”

Her head tilts, and oh, she hopes it looks more curious than confrontational. “You’re here for Mitsuhide?”

“Well, you know, it’s just weird for him to get caught up in something like this.” He scratches at the back of his neck, and Shirayuki would bet dollars to donuts that if she could see under his jacket collar, it’d be sunburn red there too. “A fight, I mean. He’ll spar with the other guys of whatever, but they don’t, you know…”

End up in the infirmary. Rangers are tough by design, not easy to break; once they roll out the Academy doors, they’re combat rated and ready, eager to take down monsters a hundred times their size. A man head and shoulders taller doesn’t give even a cadet pause— not until they end up flat on their backs, wondering how they mistook strength for slow.

But Mitsuhide— Mitsuhide is careful too. He might be a decorated combatant, a seasoned killer of kaiju, but when it comes to squaring up with humans, he might as well be fighting with kid gloves. She’s seen him on the mats before, carefully feeling out the edges of what his partner can take, making sure their spar is a challenge but not a rout.

Mistakes happen, she knows. Too much force behind a swing or fumbled footwork could send anyone to med bay, looking for a bandaid or a cold compress. Even Mitsuhide’s had his bell rung once or twice, too focused on keeping his opponent on their feet to watch how close their jo came to sweeping his. But for both of them to end up on a cot, well…

It’s concerning to say the least. Especially when the other body in that bay is supposed to be—

“I heard it was Obi in there with him.” Zen shrugs, but it doesn’t look casual. Not a smooth motion, but two pickets rattling up and down by his ears, never quite settling back to where they shoulder. By the pink spreading over his cheeks, he’s well aware. “I just thought that I…I don’t know, that I could…”

Talk to him. He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t need to: the words are scrawled across his face, written in bold-faced print for anyone to see. Fix something.

“Would you like to talk about it?” It’s reflex to ask, really— one she doesn’t even realize she’s done until his eyes blink wide, jaw slackening to match. “My office isn’t too far down the hall.”

He hesitates, eyeing her warily before he asks, “Unofficially?”

“Of course. As friends.” That’s what she’d meant anyway, she thinks. “If that’s what you want.”

There’s another, longer pause; his eyes shifting away from her to the door and then back again before her nods. “Yeah. I think I do.”

*

Her fingers are already reaching for a pen, palm pressed right against the soft cover of her notebook when Zen says, “You promised.”

The pen rattles back into the holder, knocking aside its mismatched brethren before settling into place.

“Habit,” Shirayuki laughs, suddenly all too aware of herself in space, of how she’s practically hanging over her desk. Of how desperate she looks to categorize his thoughts into neat little boxes, like somehow it might make hers more orderly too. “It won’t happen again.”

“Are you sure?” The corner of his mouth hitches up, a smirk she knows all too well. “I am about to be really interesting, you know. You’ll be itching to put it in my file.”

It would be entirely inappropriate to say, I know. “I promised,” she says instead. “Boundaries are important. For both professionals and clients.”

“Is that what I am now?” He’s smiling still, joking, but there’s no humor in it. “Your client?”

“No, you are what you’ve always been.” It stings as she smiles, folding up her legs beneath her, but sweetly. “My friend.”

His smirk falters into a frown, that direct, almost challenging stare of his foundering to the floor. “Really? I don’t think I’ve been a very good one lately. Not to you.” He sighs, leaning into his hand. “Hell, not to anyone, I guess.”

“Is that what’s worrying you right now? That you’re not being a good friend?”

Zen snorts, sending her a wry look. “You’re doing it again. The therapist thing.”

“Ah! Er…” Heat prickles at her cheeks, and she doesn’t have to see Zen’s grin to know it’s a blush breaking out over them, just as obvious as any of his. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“Don’t worry about it. Honestly, I think it’d be weirder if you didn’t try,” he admits, letting himself relax into the couch cushions. The way he used to before, when it was just him and her and a way to steal time under his brother’s nose. “I don’t really care about the friend thing. No wait, I don’t mean—I do care about being friends, and er, being a good one, but that’s not really my biggest problem right now.”

“It isn’t?” Her head tilts, an invitation. “Then what is?”

He stares at her wearily. “Really?”

“Oh! I really…” Her hands clap to her cheeks, but it does nothing for the heat radiating beneath her palms. “I didn’t meant to that time. I just…it’s Obi, isn’t it? You’re worried about him, even more than Mitsuhide.”

Zen lets his head drop back, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s kinda hard not to be. I mean, if you’d seen what I saw in there…”

“You mean in the drift?” Electricity zips through her fingers, chasing her nerves up her spine, and she pitches forward, struggling to keep the eagerness from her voice. “Can I…can ask what happened? When you were in there, in his…?”

Mind. Memories. There’s hardly a difference either way,

He doesn’t lift his head, but she sees the muscles of his neck move, the furrow of his brow implied rather than implicit. “You don’t know? I thought you and Obi had some sort of postmortem or whatever. I figured he’d be your favorite patient by now.”

“No. We never got past broad strokes. I don’t even think I could call him a patient.” It’s strange how relief floods her as she says that— not my patient— and how quickly guilt twists her stomach right after. He should be her patient, she should be helping, she just— just—

Doesn’t want to. Not like that anyway. From the outside. Professionally. But she’s not being given much of a choice. “I think it was too difficult for him to get past all the…commentary.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” He eyes her, almost speculative, before shaking his head. “It’s confusing in there. I don’t even know how he manages to walk and think at the same time, let alone mouth off the way he does. But you know about…?”

“Osaka, and the Hachimaru,” she confirms, the fabric of her skirt dimpling between her fingers. “That there were unauthorized experiments going on with the number of pilots in a Jaeger. That they were all…” Children. She can’t bring herself to say it. “You probably know more than me.”

“Maybe. Not enough. Too much. I don’t know.” Zen sighs, his head rocking forward, bowing over his knees. “It’s just…I don’t want to go talking about stuff that’s really his to tell. But…yeah, there was something with Osaka’s program. Some lack of oversight— or maybe everyone was purposefully looking away, who can tell? But there was seven of them, all packed into one Jaeger, in a big row like— like sardines in a can, and their commander, this woman, she—”

He rubs at his arm, teeth grit. “Let’s just say, she wasn’t a good mother figure.”

“Seven of them?” She’d heard of three— Crimson Typhoon and its triplet pilots— but more than one report had said they were like one mind in three bodies, rather than the other way around. That there was something wrong with them from drifting so often so young. Seven completely different children, forced to link mind in some unregulated daisy chain since before they were even in puberty… “How many of them are…?”

“They’re all in there,” he says, toneless. “Like they never left. Just a whole Con-Pod filled with…”

Ghosts. Shirayuki never was one of the girls who would shiver at a scary story, or see faces in the dark— no point in inventing horrors when there were plenty more real ones lurking just off shore. But there’s no better term for this, these leftover impulses that stalk Obi’s brain stem, or…whatever they were.

“I wish…” Zen doesn’t have Obi’s sharp jaw or Mitsuhide’s square one; his muscles don’t stand out in relief when they flex, but she sees the tension in his throat, the swallow. “I wish he’d just talk to me about it, you know? He saw all my shit and just took it, and now that I’ve seen all his…”

His hand scrapes through his hair, tugging at the ends. “He knows I’m not afraid of him, doesn’t he? That I don’t care? I just want…”

She thought she’d known what yearning looked like on his face, what harsh planes even the briefest touch of it could carve, but she sees him now, mouth twisted so tight it carves new fissures into his cheeks, biting runnels into the corners of his eyes, and she knows— however much he’d wanted her, it doesn’t come close to how much he wants this.

“I don’t know. We’ve talked, but Obi hasn’t really told me what he’s thinking.” And by now, Shirayuki knows better than to guess. “But I think…I think he does. He just…isn’t ready for that right now.”

For being known. For being accepted despite it.

“When he is though,” she adds, carefully picking around the words. “You should tell him.”

“I’m trying,” Zen sighs, sliding further onto her couch. “I’m trying.”

[pseudophan]

omg hi nora! i feel like as one of your semi-regular anons that i have abandoned you as i have been doing training for sorority recruitment for the past four days. all i’ve been doing is dealing with bump groups, practice parties, lists and timing from 9:00-7:00 and i’ve been slowly going insane actually especially when they uploaded the other day and i couldn’t immediately watch it and everyone around me could tell i was visually stressed and kept asking me if i was okay. anyways, i love seeing your posts pop up on my feed as i scroll through everything i missed when i finally go on tumblr at the end of the day! im so sorry this is so long idk why i’m telling you this much information and i think i might be going insane but tldr: you slay!

i am stressed on your behalf by the mere thought of this you people are insane. i've known my fair share of phannies in sororities throughout the years and i'm equally baffled every time, genuinely i commend your dedication i just spent half an hour mustering up the effort to put a bagel in the airfryer. nine to seven?? that's more than a full time job!

i do love the concept of being stressed about dan and phil react to tatinof during sorority recruitment training, just a very funny combination of words. i feel your pain though i'd be stressed as fuck

thanks for the ask, i enjoy a little life update from people now and then. even if i am thoroughly confused by everything happening here what the fuck is a practice party . good luck though enjoy, i hope the next dan and phil upload will be exactly whenever you next have a half hour break from the madness

[letters-unsending]

No. 24 Part 2.

////

Part one:

////

“Oh, you’re here.”

“You invited me.” Hero grinned. His lip was busted and a bandage was pasted over his temple and cheek.

“Well, yes.” Villain retreated from the doorway and motioned Hero in. “But that was weeks ago and I didn’t plan for a siege to happen beforehand and for you to fight in it. I would’ve understood if you couldn’t make it.”

Siege or not, Villain hadn’t expected him to come. After taking Superhero’s mentorship, Hero was carted off to some secret training facility and his belongings were removed by one of the faculty. Villain had to peel his posters from the wall though. He’d also scrubbed away ash stains from Hero’s accidental fires and pilfered the books Hero had shoved underneath his desk to keep it steady.

Part of him was glad Hero had left, so swiftly, so silently. No goodbyes. Villain had been able to tell Supervillain that Hero was no longer fond of him and Superhero allowed Villain to direct his manipulations elsewhere.

However, when he’d purchased a new apartment, he’d decided to set up a housewarming party. He invited Hero because it seemed right—they’d shared a dormitory for a year after all. A few of his new projects, a small group of heroes-in-training and sidekicks, had shown up earlier in the evening. He’d ordered in some food and was given plants, pans and toiletries in return. It’d been a fairly successful night of rubbing elbows and collecting intel.

But Hero stood before him now, cleaner than he’d looked on the TV hours before, clawing through opposition at Superhero’s flank. He still smelled like smoke and cracked cement, and he wandered in with a waver in his step.

“I’m not really supposed to be here.” Hero peeked around the living room, surveying the vintage Superhero prints and magazine covers Villain had pinned up over his couch. “They didn’t let me contact you. I was barely able to text my mom before I left for the training center.”

Villain swallowed, dry. He tasted the lingering stain of coffee on his teeth. “I figured. I knew you had more important things to do.”

“You were always prepared for me to go though.” Hero turned around and smiled at Villain. “You pushed me toward connections and interviews. You helped me with my tests and applications.”

“You were meant for more.” Villain eyed Hero where he stood, backdropped by generations of Superheroes and his ribs ached. “I knew that. Anyone who saw you would’ve known it too.”

Hero sighed and ran a hand through his ragged hair. “You’re always so practical.”

“I like to be realistic.” Villain neared the couch and studied Hero. He’d been gone for seven months, but he’d already changed so much: his shoulders hung stiff; his jaw ticked; his eyes were wild and weary. The attacks over the last few days no doubt added to the weight held in his posture. He oscillated between stillness and shivering anxiety—coiling, uncoiling.

Hero froze as Villain waved a hand to sit. He let Villain grow nearer, till he was no more than a pace away, and then reached, tugging Villain forward by the elbow.

“I missed you.”

“Oh,” Villain breathed, “okay.”

“[Villain].” Hero flexed his hand and set it over Villain’s shoulder. “You’re acting like I’ve left you behind.”

“You have the opportunity to make powerful alliances. There is no reason for you to hang onto past…acquaintances.” Villain looked up, at the wobbling line of Hero’s jaw, at the churning tendons in his neck. “I don’t want to hold you back.”

“You’re not holding me back.” Hero denied. “[Villain], you’re not just some stepping stone. You inspired me. You made believe that I could do something great.”

“Anyone would’ve done what I did. And you would’ve been able to succeed, with or without my help.”

“But you did it. You were with me.” Hero’s voice cracked. “I’m not a fucking prick. I’m not going to leave people behind just because there are opportunities somewhere else.”

Villain closed his eyes as they burned. Hero had been an opportunity for him, something to use. His hand shifted in his pocket as he turned Supervillain’s recorder off.

“I missed you too.”

And Hero reeled him in. Villain sighed. Hero sighed and rested his cheek against Villain’s hair, breathing slowly, running a tentative hand down Villain’s side.

“Nice apartment, by the way.” Hero glanced over Villain’s head, toward the cabinet beside the couch. There were pictures of superheroes set up there too, framed and sorted by decade, and a few shots of the city scenery.

At the front though, there was a picture of them. They had their arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders. Villain was reading a new magazine, leaning into Hero, and smiling as he pointed out a section to him.

Sidekick had snapped the picture and Villain had chased after him once he heard the click. Hero had thought he’d forced Sidekick to delete it.

With a more confident grasp, Hero squeezed Villain’s shoulders, and hid a grin into his temple. “You been doing alright?”

“I’ve been fine.” Villain clutched him back and stared at the blinking light in the corner of room. “I’ve had a few people looking out for me.”