#ummm somehow I missed seeing this for months

[cts-ryu-writing-desk]

A Gift From Santa

Sending out another little christmas-y story. Kind of a bit of a fever dream. even if you don’t celebrate, I hope you can enjoy this one!

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A festive winter landscape, showing off the beauty of the season. The holiday decorations were out. You could easily feel the tension from the holidays; the stress of those last-minute gifts, the dread of those family Christmas dinners, the warmth of the love in the season, and for some the cold loneliness the season brings. Though the holiday season means something else to different people, this year means so much more to Liliane. 

She’s a quiet young woman who often just keeps to herself. Liliane didn’t have many friends or family. The closest person to her was her mom Liliane always kept a small framed picture of the two of them. She would look at it during the times she needed it most but this year was no reprieve. She stayed in never going out if it wasn’t for work. Her life at this point had fallen into a dull mundane routine, Work, home, try not to be sad, and sleep. Day after day. 

It was December twenty-third. She had just left work. Lucky to leave her small retail position before the afternoon crowds swarmed in. She had walked out into the mall. Everything was being drowned out by the constant chatter of the massive crowds around her. She was making her way past the small Santa’s village. She smiled a little to herself thinking of a special time in her childhood. It was Christmas and her mom would always see the Mall Santa for a Christmas Photo. She started to leave.

It was like a faint whisper over the oceanic crowd. She heard that mall Santa bellow out his loudest “Ho! Ho! Ho!”

She stopped in her tracks. Finally turning back. The line wasn’t all that big. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt.”

She got in line. Only two other people were ahead of her. An overly cheerful man dressed up as a Christmas Elf came right up to her and asked “How many are in your party?”

She looked away sheepishly, holding up just a lone single finger. He smiled brightly at her and confirmed. Liliane tried her best not to look at him. Starting to second-guess herself. “Maybe I should just leave?” she began to think to herself. She started to fidget, biting at her nails. “This is just a bad idea…” started to ring out in her head.

She was next.

“I should just walk out, it’s not like anybody is gonna notice. Yeah, I’ll just leave this is dumb.” She was about to leave. The feeling of something jabbing at her side. It was coming from inside her bag. She looked into her bag. Seeing the framed picture of her mom. She started to tear up

“Miss?” the Christmas elf said, finally getting to her

She had a moment of sudden shock. “Sorry…” she let out sheepishly

Walking right over to the mall Santa. As she got closer there was something special about him. He felt somehow different, even with just this minor distance he felt warm and comforting. He encouraged her to sit on his lap. “Right Here little lady,” He said with a deep voice

She sat right in his lap. Even given her age, she managed to sit there gently and comfortably.

“Anything special I can get you for Christmas?” he asked

“Ummm, I know I’m too old to ask for stuff,” She paused, “But… could you maybe. Bring back, my mom?”

“Oh? Where did she go?” 

Santa's curious tone didn’t make Liliane shut down. She was overwhelmed with the feeling of warmth and comfort something she always felt with her mom. 

“She… She passed away.” Liliane started to cry, doing her best to hold it all back. “A few months ago. She’s all I had left” 

“Oh my, I’m so very sorry my dear.” She felt him place a gentle hand on her back “You just want your family?”

She nodded, whipping away her tears.

“Young Miss Liliane. I may not be able to bring her back. I’m sorry. But I think I know just the thing to get you, Something that’ll bring back a smile to your lovely face. It may not be your mom but I promise it will mend your aching heart.”

He used a finger to lift her head to look at him. He started at a lower position over the left side of her chest. Going from the left up diagonally, straight across to then from that upper right spot made a downward diagonal slash. Drawing an ‘X’ over his chest. Saying to her, “I Promise, it will make you feel much much better.”

Liliane whipped away a tear. Throwing herself into a hug, with him. In his embrace, she felt it overflowing through her - a warmth like being nestled next to a fire in the cold. Though the hug was short, it seemed to ward off her tears. The rest of the experience happened as it should have. A photo that she ended up purchasing. They were closing down little Santa’s village. He walked over to Liliane.

“Hope you have a good day, Liliane”

She smiled, then the realization. It sank in. She never told him her name. She was handed the photo. She saw herself and the rosy-cheeked Santa smiling brightly. Her name tag was exposed. She let out a sigh of relief. Leaving Santa's village set up as they put up a small sign - Santa’s on Break. She ventured home with a warm, comforting feeling.

She got home, taking off the layers of covering to shield her from the winter chill. She pulled out the frame of her mom. Setting it on her countertop. It was a fairly old picture - her mom was looking rather youthful, with a small toddler on her lap. Smiling in front of a Christmas Tree.

“I made, it another day, mom,” she said softly “I miss you,”

She started at a lower position over the left side of her chest. Going from the left up diagonally, straight across to then from that upper right spot made a downward diagonal slash. Gesturing an ‘X’ “Promise”

Later that day Liliane received a knock on the door. “Special Delivery” she heard muffled behind the door.

She went to investigate seeing a fairly well-dressed man behind the door holding an envelope in his hand up to his chest. She opened the door slightly. “Hello, I’m here to deliver a special letter for you.”

“Umm you could’ve left it in the mail..” she said in a low tone

“Of course but I was told this letter had to be delivered right away and in person.” the deliverer said with a cheerful smile

He held out the letter to her. It was a bright red envelope with a wax seal on it. She reached out to grab it. “Ummm, thank you”

“You’re very welcome and have yourself a very Merry Christmas,” they said before walking off

Liliane thought it was weird. The writing on it was very nice cursive, and it had her name and address on it. No return address. But the wax seal on the back was a Christmas tree. While holding it she felt a sense of comfort again. Though she didn’t know the sender she felt like she had just received a letter from a lifelong friend. She broke the seal seeing a letter and a single card. She put out the card. Had thick red trim with a single green band and elaborate filigree with small snowdrops. A stamp in the middle of two candy canes tied with a bow with a Santa hat above them. And In a nice bold Cursive font, ‘You’re invited to a Very Special Party’

The letter read:

Miss Liliane, we would like to wish you a very merry Christmas. And would like to invite you to a very special Christmas eve celebration. We hope that you will be in attendance. Our host Mr. Kringle has personally invited you to his home. We hope you will be there. We will have a shuttle arriving at the Damask Hotel (3151 Rose Ave) to pick up you and other guests within your area. Please inform the front desk by showing them the enclosed card and they will bring you to the waiting area. Pick up will be at 6:00p.m Christmas Eve.

“Huh?

Liliane looked over the card again, then the letter one more time. “Kringle?”

She didn’t know anyone by that name. She tossed it onto the counter,  next to her mother’s framed photo. She didn’t put a second thought to it - she wasn’t going to go. Later on, while she was cooking dinner. During a moment of serendipitous timing, she saw a line from the Christmas movie she was watching “Don’t let anything hold you back, go to that party. It will be the thing that changes your life.”

She looked at the invitation. Then to her mom’s photo. She thought to herself that it was just odd timing. Yet the more she watched the more she would continue to see similar lines. “Come to the party, Go out, go to the ball.” 

She looked over at her mom’s photo one more time. Her eyes glanced over the invitation again. “Are you telling me I should go?”

She was mulling it over in her head. “Okay mom. I’ll go. But I’m taking the taser.” 

December twenty-fourth - Christmas Eve. She worked an early shift again. It was insane. The large number of shoppers running around the mall was ridiculous. Large swarms of shoppers trying to squeeze through aisles, into overcapacity shops, and carrying around numerous bags. It was a sight Liliane wasn’t a fan of. Lucky enough for her. She wasn’t working the register, months of begging made sure of that. It was late afternoon before she was able to leave. She had to leave out the back. 

She went straight home and started to get ready for the party. She didn’t know what to wear. The invite didn’t say anything about a dress code. If it was just a Christmas party or was it going to end up being something more formal. Ultimately decided to just put on a pair of jeans and a Christmas sweater. It was nearly four in the afternoon. It was going to take her nearly an hour to get to the hotel. She grabbed her bag and her mom’s photo before heading down.

Liliane went down the street and up a flight of stairs to the tram station. A moment of luck: she and the tram arrived at the same time. She hurried to get on. It was packed. She expected that much on Christmas Eve. She just tried to keep to herself. Trying to squish her body into herself so she didn’t end up touching anybody that ended up touching anybody. A forty-minute ride later she got off at Rose Station. She pulled out her phone, mouthing to herself as she made her way to the street 3-1-5-1.

It was quite the walk. There weren’t many people on this side of town. The snow was practically still fresh. She could hear the sound of it crunching under her feet. She looked around, seeing small shops, and homes all around her. A stark difference from where she typically lived. Then she saw it, the Damask Hotel. It was a beautiful sight, it was almost like looking at a Christmas tree. The entryway was lit up.

The Doorman greeted her with, “Welcome to the Demark Hotel Miss.”

She nodded, giving him a shy wave of her hand. Once she was inside the Damask it didn’t feel warm. Instead, it gave off a feeling she hadn’t felt since she was a kid. The feeling of a cozy warmth after coming in from the snow. Like being at her childhood home.

She looked around and despite the warm feeling the interior of the hotel was nothing to write home about. It looked nice yes, but felt dated, she wondered if it was from before the ’50s. There also wasn’t a single guest in the hotel lobby. She was wondering if this place was even busy. She saw at the front desk a clerk who was quietly reading. She walked up to them. 

“Oh,” they set down their book “Afternoon Miss, Did you have an existing reservation with us?”

“Um, no. I, ugh… I actually.” she was nervous and stammering

Digging through her bag pulling out the invitation. “I was” Liliane continued

“Oh, I see. You’re waiting for the Shuttle to Mr. Kringle’s Christmas Eve party. I’ll get one of the bellhops to take you to the waiting room.”

Oh, okay,” Liliane responded

The front desk clerk radioed for a bellhop. Liliane ultimately waited for a few minutes. A brief game of ‘follow the leader’ ensued. Down winding halls to one of the ballrooms. There was a small group of about forty people. She stayed against the wall crossing her arms trying to ignore everyone. 

There were so many different kinds of people. Tall, short, fat, skinny. Some wore skirts, some white pants, some dresses casual, and some barely dressed at all. Liliane was beginning to wonder if it was even worth it. The crowd in front of her seemed so different, confident, and even attractive - when she compared herself to them. Liliane thought of herself as plain, less interesting. She was just a small fish in a tank full of sharks. “I don’t think I can do this…”

“Excuse me miss?” She heard 

Liliane looked around seeing a shorter woman. She has short hazel hair, fair skin, and bright brown eyes.  With a big smile and a clipboard in hand. “Can I get your name? We’re doing an early check,”

“Umm yeah, it’s uh Liliane Harper,” she told her. 

The short woman looked through her clipboard, “Ah, found it. Alright Ms, Harper. You’re checked in since everyone is nearly accounted for, we'll be boarding early today,” she said with a big smile before excusing herself.

“Is it close to six already?” she thought

The young woman called for everyone’s attention. “We’ll be heading out to the shuttle where we’ll do our final check-in. We please ask that you grasp seats from the back to the front so we can make sure to fill all available space.”

She called for everyone to follow her, Liliane briefly thought about walking out. Second-guessing herself to the very end. Someone started to lead her out of the room, “come along dear you don’t want to be left behind,”

Lillian couldn’t object practically being dragged along. She tried to speak out in protest and yet a part of her wanted to go. Even if that part of her was the faintest sliver. Around a corner and through several double doors and suddenly everyone was outside in the loading zone. It looked like a typical greyhound bus that was painted with festive Christmas decorations. There were already people swarming to get on the bus. Liliane started close to the back.

By the time she was able to get on the bus, she was the last person who was standing there. Sliding into a seat all by herself. She couldn’t hear much over the roar of the people behind her. The driver took his seat. The woman with hazel eyes walked on with her clipboard singing her finger around like a wheel. A cheer roared and the party-goers were on their way. They were off.

Liliane stayed curled up close to the window. Nobody was sitting next to her, yet she just wanted to keep to herself. Yet she did the hard part. She went. It was already getting dark. She tried to watch as the buildings passed her by. Yet the tinted windows of the bus made that difficult to do. They drove for almost twenty minutes to get out of town. Through the tinted windows, it looked like the bus was coming into a tunnel. 

For ten minutes they drove in this tunnel like it was never-ending. The woman with hazel hair stood up in her seat. “Alright everyone, we'll be arriving shortly.” She said so proudly with a smile.

Lilianae couldn’t help but wonder where exactly they were. Every so often seeing a flurry of lights passing past her tinted window. The bus slowed down, and turned, before coasting up the road and finally stopping. The girl with hazel hair stood up again, “Alright everyone we are here. Make sure you grab your wristbands as you leave. They will be your access and refreshments.”

A cheer from the crowd behind Liliane. The door to the bus opened playing a pounding synth bassline in the distance. Liliane stayed in her seat, everyone else crowded pushing and shoving their way to get out of and over to the party. It was a bit of a wait but Liliane wasn’t in a huge rush. There were only a few more stragglers behind her by the time she got off the bus.

“Oh! Miss Harper?!”

She looked around seeing a nicely bronzed short man with bright blonde hair smiling and waving her down. He seemed shorter than the woman she had met just a little while earlier. She looked around. Hoping it was for another person. Someone else with her last name.

“Liliane Harper?” he said again with a cheerful voice

She turned and faced him. 

“If you would please come with me. Mr. Kringle would like to speak with you personally before he joins the festivities.”

“With… me?” she questioned softly

The short blonde man nodded “Yes Ma’am. He even asked me to bring you to his office. He told me'' He started to get into a low tone “Diggery make sure when the guests arrive that you ask Miss Liliane Harper to come to my office.” 

Liliane was nervous. 

“It’s alright.” he tried to reassure her.

The two eventually made their way over to a manor. It was away from the compound she had seen the people heading to. The manor looked nice. Old fashioned but very well-kept. It was warm and cozy. The sheer size of it made it feel like he had a large happy family. In her mind, she could see this wealthy man coming with who presumably was his wife, and several children playing. The aroma of gingerbread and other sweets seemed to permeate the house. She would take long inhales. Each breath put her at ease little by little as she got closer to Mr. Kringle’s office.

“He’s right inside,” the blonde man told her cheerfully

She hesitated while reaching for the door. 

“Go on, He’s waiting for you”

She opened the door.

Liliane looked around quickly, taking in the entirety of the room. The office was about as big as her apartment, with a series of books, and a pair of wooden doors on the right-hand wall. The bookshelves were as high as she could see. A wooden desk with paperwork, books, and glasses; all stacked up high. Seeing just the very brim of a chair. The sound of humming started to reach her. She didn’t even hear the door close behind her. 

“Oh come on over,” his voice was warm

The voice sounded familiar. Yet those deep and jolly tones felt like a cozy warmth enveloping her. She could see his white tunic, under a pair of black suspenders and bright red pants. He was on the heavier side. His face was round, only accentuated by his white hair and well-kept white beard. His body was all in proportion to him, but he had a big round jug-like belly on him. His cheeks were rosy, a pair of half-lens reading glasses resting perfectly on the bridge of his nose. He set aside a page he had in his hand. Looked right at Liliane with a bright smile.

That’s when she realized she knew him. It was the mall Santa she had met yesterday. She didn’t get a word out before he told her,

“I know, fancy seeing me again. I do try to step in from time to time to see how people are doing.”

“You’re... Mr. Kringle?” Liliane said to him

“Yes. I’ve also been known by Nicholas, Kris, or Father Christmas. You used to know me just as Santa” He smiled

“S...Santa?”

“That’s right,” he said, getting out of his chair. “I wanted to bring you to my home.”

“Am I dreaming? Was I kidnapped? Did… Did I die?” Liliane couldn’t believe this situation

“Ho Ho, No. You are very much alive my dear. You’re at the North Pole.”

“But” she was shaking her head, “The Party, the letter”

“Yes, I send out those invitations every year. I bring one special person here to the North Pole. To give them their very own special Christmas Gift. And I have yours just missing the final piece.”

“This can’t be real” Liliane

“But it is. I used to get all kinds of letters for you, you’d always ask me so nicely for a very special thing. You’d ask me for a doll with bright red hair. Or that year you asked me for Rudolph so the other reindeer didn’t be mean to him. You’d always leave the sweetest things too. You left me some homemade butterscotch one year, a very delicious recipe by the way. Then a bottle of water with a little ‘To Refresh Santa’ written on it - a very nice thing to do. That year you left me a snow globe of a little snowman on a beach. I still have that it’s my favorite.”

Liliane felt she should be afraid. Yet the aura he gave off was that of kindness. She didn’t whimper or cower in fear. She never raised her voice. And she never tried to run away. She felt a tear racing down from her right eye. Santa came over to her and gently wiped the tear away. 

“It’s good to see you again, Liliane,” he told her warmly

“S...Santa?”

 He just smiled at her, with his arms opened wide. She went in. He wrapped his arms around her holding her closely in an embrace. It was the first time in so long she felt the love and warmth of another person. She felt there was no ulterior motive, she could only feel his kindness. Santa released her from his hug, he smiled and asked her to follow him.

The two walked over to the double doors against the wall.

“This is my favorite part of my office” he pushed open the doors

Liliane let out a gasp. It was a room full of snow globes. All kinds of sizes were all over the walls. A rounded room filled with so many snow globes. More than she could count. In the center of the room was a much larger crystal ball-like structure that looked like it had a blizzard raging within it.

“This is my Observatory,” he said proudly, “That one in the middle. That one lets me check up on every child all over the world. These smaller ones I guess could call them special memories. When someone believes in me so much a snow globe is made and each snowflake in it is a special memory. To help them when they’re older I will send them out as dreams to remind people of the happy times in their life.”

Santa turned to face Liliane. “I am sorry I didn’t send yours out sooner.”

At first, it felt cryptic, until she realized she hadn’t had good dreams about her and her mom since, since her passing. She tucked her lips, and looked down at the ground before finally looking at him and answering “It’s okay.”

Santa walked over to a shelf. Reaching for a small snow globe with a ribbon on it. Inside was a Snowman on a beach. Liliane even pointed out that he was holding the same snow globe he gave her. 

“Yes, it is” and I want you to have it.” Santa stretched out his arm to her

“You’re giving it back” she sounded sad

Santa smiled and told her, “Hold it in your hand and give it a shake. And you’ll know why I wanted you to see it.” 

She took it gently from his hand. She remembered that it was so much bigger when she was younger. She shook it seeing the white bits floating around. She gazed into it, feeling an intense urge to blink. Once she did she was no longer in the globe room with Santa she was in a place that seemed familiar to her. Familiar sights, sounds, and smells. “Mommy,” a young girl's voice called out

She knew that voice. It was her voice. She saw her younger self running over to her mom as she walked in from the front door. Liliane started to cry. She was watching a memory. Before long she was stranded by many of her memories. Seeing younger versions of herself with her mom. Throughout her life. Until suddenly she saw her mom, in the hospital bed. She was hooked up to so many machines. She could see herself asleep, hunched over on the hospital bed. Liliana nearly looked away, her mom saw her and started to speak, “Liliane?” She said in a weak voice

“I don’t… know… if… you can… hear me,” she watched as her mom placed her hand on Liliane’s sleeping head “but… I wa… want you… to… know… I… I’m sorry. I won’t be here… much… longer…”

Liliana covered her mouth.

“I want… want you to know… I love you… very… very much… and even though… I… I’ll be gone… I’ll always be there for you” she started coughing, Liliane saw her sleeping self move a little “Don’t linger on the sadness. Don’t just… hide… in your shell. Find someone… be happy. Please.”

Lilliane’s mom grabbed onto her daughter's sleeping hand. The memory started to fade. Liliane wiped away her tears. She was back in the observatory room. A great big smile on her face. She went over to Santa, throwing her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said into his shoulder.

He just patted her on the back. When she broke out of the hug, she saw Santa’s bright and warm smile.

“That’s what I wanted to show you, Liliane.” Santa told her “I hope that helps. Your mother was a wonderful woman, and she wouldn’t want to see you being a wallflower forever.”

Liliane nodded. 

Santa walked over to her, putting his hand on her head. She could see hints of a smile behind his white beard. He started to walk her out of his office. “I am happy that this was able to help you Lilliane.”

“Is it… Is it possible”

“No my dear. The magic won’t work outside of the north pole.”

“Ah… Oh…”

“I am sorry my dear”

“Is it? Is it possible to stay?” Liliane asked sheepishly

Santa stopped, looking at her. He let out a small sigh. “There is only one way. And it is something I can not ask of such a kind and loving soul.”

She started to blush, “and what is it?”

“I’d have to ask the wife”

Liliane seemed confused slightly. She had forgotten all about him being married. “Mrs. Claus?” she seemed to murmur

“Of course, a good husband doesn’t do anything like moving a pretty young girl in without his wife knowing.”

He called over an elf who was passing by giving him the order to get Mrs. Claus. Gave a salute before the elf headed off. It was a few minutes later before the elf returned. A mature woman walked in following the elf. She was just as tall as Santa. Pure white hair but not as old. “Nicolas dear, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes my dear,” he gestured for Liliane to come close to him, “This little lady would like to ask your permission to stay here at the north pole”

Liliane looked down at the ground nervously. She could feel Mrs. Claus approaching her. Mrs. Claus took a few fingers, put them at Liliane’s chin, and had her lift her head. “No need to be nervous my dear,” she said with a smile

Mrs. Calus told Santa to peek in on their party guests and make sure everything was going well. She asked Liliane to follow her into the kitchen. Liliane felt like she should say something. Being surrounded by the scent of cinnamon and baked goodies. Inside the kitchen was a series of ovens and broilers, a large cutting board filled with food waiting to be cooked. The kitchen itself was alive. Moving and whirling getting everything prepared for them. Mrs. Claus took a seat at a table along the back wall that had a cutting board, with diced potatoes on it. Mrs. Claus cheerfully tried to make a joke, “The kitchen may run itself but if I didn’t do something I’d be very bored being here” she let out a chuckle

Liliane was nervous. 

“Nicolas told me he was bringing you here. He wanted to heal your heart - he told me. I can tell you saw it. His beautiful snowglobes. Their magic is a treat. So I will have to presume you want to stay here?”

“Yy... yes” Liliane stammered

Mrs. Claus nodded. “Can I ask you one thing? Even if you stayed here would you be happy just reliving those old memories day after day?”

“I… I dunno” Liliane responded “I dunno. Everything at home reminds me of my mom. And”

Mrs. Claus grabbed onto Liliane’s hands. “I know, I have to ask because you can’t just stay here. Everyone here has a purpose, I am Santa’s wife it is my job to oversee the elves, and feed Santa. Santa makes the toys, delivers them, and checks on the children of the world. The Elves make the toys, some even act as personal assistants.”

Liliane started to sulk. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t sure if she could be useful. Mrs. Claus let out a sigh, before getting up and clapping her hands. Bringing the entire kitchen to a standstill. Asking Liliane to come with her Mrs. Claus began to leave their home. Informing the elves the two of them were off to the party. They walked past a giant facility that was dark. Mrs. Claus told Liliane that it was the toy factory. “They were able to finish a day early this year so we are letting them celebrate”

They came up to a smaller building that was lit up. It was smaller than the factory, yet it seemed as big as a suburban house. Mrs. Claus said that this was where the party was taking place. The two walked in. As soon as the door was opened the two were met with a wafting scent, of sweat, and lewd sounds. Liliane immediately noticed someone near the doorway, it was one of the girls from the bus she rode in on. She was naked, legs spread wide open, a pantsless elf using her as a sex toy. Liliane covered her eyes in embarrassment. 

An elf came up to them both, “Hello Ms. Harper, Mrs. Claus”

“Evening Chicita, I see you’re glowing so beautifully.”

Liliane peeked through her fingers seeing the elf was naked sporting a small pregnant belly on her. Unconsciously Liliane let out a sudden “Oh god” in surprise

Mrs. Clause smiled “It’s alright Liliane, They worked so hard for us this year so this is their reward. And we always need helpers. And our elves can only breed with each other so much before it gets to, well familial breeding. So this was the solution we came up with. We bring in a few people. Some from the nice list some from the naughty list and let them pop out some babies for us. We have to use some special magics of course” 

Liliane could hear and see the elf in front of them was finishing. Reaching his climax. Pulling out and leaving her exposed there for a moment. Liliane could see that the poor girl’s belly was starting to grow round and fast. She winced, a rush of clear fluid spurting out of her. Before she suddenly screamed a little. A little head was being pushed out of her pussy. Liliane blushed, and her eyes widened, she had just witnessed someone undergo breeding, pregnancy, and childbirth within a matter of minutes. Concluding this was the magic Mrs. Claus must have mentioned. 

Once the baby was delivered and taken away another elf wasted no time getting into her and continuing the cycle over again. Santa came up from one hallway. He saw Mrs. Claus and gave a thumbs up, assuring her everything was going very well. Mrs. Claus looked at Liliane, she was embarrassed about the situation. Yet she did not say a word. “Nicolas if you don’t mind?” Mrs. Claus said

Santa winked and flicked a finger across his nose. Suddenly their surroundings changed like flicking a light switch on and off. The three of them were back in the mansion. They were in a drawing room. Mr. and Mrs. Claus took a seat. Liliane looked around quickly before she took sat down. Mrs. Claus talked with Liliane again, “If you want to stay here my dear we would have to find something for you to do”

“Okay…” Liliane said in defeat “I get it… I’m not”

The Claus couple looked at each other. Their eyes were loving, and yet a touch of sadness that they never once touched upon. “Liliane my dear,” Santa said warmly, “We might have a Proposition for you”

“Mrs. Claus,”

“I am Santa’s wife, but there is one thing I have never been able to do.” She took a moment to fight back her emotions, “I am not a mother.”

Liliane didn’t know how to respond.

“You may stay, um if. If you agree. Umm. Well.”

“If you be our surrogate. I’ve always wanted children. Ever since I was a little girl.” Her eyes started to water, “If you promise to bear our children. You can stay.”

The Claus’ started to explain, that it was a lot to ask for. And neither of them believed that Liliane would agree to it. Liliane on the other hand was lost in her thoughts. She wasn’t weighing the consequences. She wasn’t mulling over their offer. She was thinking of her mother. She was thinking of what had happened earlier. She was no longer timid. She looked at the Claus couple and proudly admitted “I’ll do it, I’ll do anything if it means I can stay”

The Claus couple was shocked at first. Before elation overtook them both. A chime could be overheard echoing like it was right next to them. “It’s that time. Time to go”

“Take Liliane with you dear,” she gestured for him to come back, “treat her nicely”

He held out his hand for Liliane. She didn’t hesitate. She accompanied Santa on his delivery trip that night. She sat next to Santa in the sleigh, Santa encouraging her to cuddle up and stay warm. While traveling through the sky, she felt she was different somehow. Bolder. Rubbing Santa’s crotch from under the blanket. Her rubbing got him hard rather quickly. Steering the sleigh with one hand, groping Liliane. Feeling the passion between the pair. It was like Liliane was a different person. He was finished with this yearly gift delivery things got a bit more - passionate. By the time they returned to the North pole, Liliane was locking lips with Santa in a feverish passion. Their kissing soon led to more, physical connections. Making love right there in the sleigh. 

As the months passed and August rolled in. The elves were busy building up the stock of toys Santa would deliver around the world that year. Santa was going through doing standard overseer duties. Liliane walked in, wearing a loose-fitting gown, the hint of a baby bump that had grown rather large. Santa took notice and hurried over to her. “My dear you shouldn’t be in here in your condition”

“I’m fine, “I’m just pregnant” she turned to see what one of the elves was building.

Accidentally bumped them in the back of the head. Everyone involved was embarrassed and apologetic. Santa assured her that she didn’t need to come in here. “I’m only curious,” she said with a cutesy tone.

She felt his thick white beard. And smiled. “Besides Santa.” she bit her bottom lip leaning in to whisper in his ear, “This mommy wants to tell you what she wants for Christmas”

Santa blushed. Leading her away to his office there in the workshop. The pair wasted no time getting into the throws of passion with one another.  At first, they were silent, being drowned out by the sound of machines, and tools building away. But the Stations closest to that office door heard otherwise. Before long they could hear Liliane’s loud moans and the sound of flesh slapping into one another. The two hadn’t taken any notice of the fog glass window that showed their silhouettes fucking away with each other. Despite a few elves taking notice and even watching - the others seemed to treat this even like it was normal. Liliane even screamed as he got more aggressive with his forceful mating “Put another baby in me”

Ultimately leaving that small office and escorted back to the manor. Smelling of sweat and semen. Santa was usually drained and so didn’t go back out for some time after. Months continued to pass on Liliane eventually went on to deliver her first child between her and Santa near the end of October. A little boy, Liliane picked the name, Nicolas. Saying it was the name of the sweetest most caring man in the world. Once she had healed up, it wasn’t long before Santa’s sex time was being filled up and fast. Mrs. Claus wanted her sexual attention, and actively encourages him to breed Liliane. “The sound of one child won’t be enough for this house,” She would tell him

Two years since she had first arrived. Another bus was arriving at the North Pole, Liliane was dressed in a wonderful red gown, the clear hint of a baby belly hiding under her gown. She looked to easily be within five to six months of her pregnancy. Mrs. Clause came up not having aged a day, in her arms was a toddler dressed in warm red clothes. The two of them watched as the guests disembarked. Liliane smiled rubbing her baby belly. “You better warn Nicolas”

“About what?”

“I don’t think two would be enough,” Liliane explained

Mrs. Claus put her hand on Liliane’s pregnant belly. “I’m sure he knows already.”

Liliane smiled. Once again thanking Mrs. Claus, who replied with a joyful that she was the thankful one. Their family was able to grow through Liliane’s generous and fertile womb.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Big Sis

Father of Mine – Masterlist

a/n: this takes place before Y/N and Jason get together.

Y/N was already running late as she rushed around her apartment, trying to get ready to leave for a work meeting.

But she froze in her tracks when her phone started ringing and she saw Bruce’s name on the screen.

Her instincts told her it was important to pick up.

“Hello?”

“I have a favor,” Bruce said.

“Okayyyyy,” Y/N answered slowly.

“Can you watch Damian for the night?”

“What?” Y/N blurted out by accident.

It had only been a few months since she realized the family secret and started hanging out with Bruce and his boys. It was a lot to wrap her mind around. The biggest thing being that she had a little half brother. Yes, Bruce considered all the boys his sons – whether he had legitimated adopted them or not. But Damian and Y/N were the only two actually related in blood, even if they were half siblings.

And boy... did Damian make his distaste for Y/N known since he first met her.

He always acted unimpressed by her very existence.

Bruce and Dick scolded the boy on Y/N’s behalf, but she knew that only made things worse and begged them to stop.

Y/N wasn’t entirely sure about all the reasons Damian didn’t like her. But she could assume it had something to do with Y/N being Bruce’s real first born.

There was 16 years between the two of them. But somehow Damian still saw her as some sort of threat.

Did he think she was going to take the throne of Batman? Or take over Wayne Enterprises?

Y/N was completely and utterly unqualified to do either – not that she’d ever want to.

––

“Does she even know how to fight?” Damian scoffed at the dinner table one night.

“She’s a civilian, not a vigilante.” Tim chimed in with a smirk.

Y/N gave him a grateful look. She already felt out of place at these family dinners. They’ve all been a together for years. And she was just the imposter that they were all attempting to welcome into it.

But Damian turned his attention to her now. “Then what can you do?”

“Damian!” Bruce reprimanded.

“What?! She clearly plans on taking your money, father!”

“Well, you see, I have my own money,” Y/N explained evenly to her half brother. “Because I’m an adult with an actual job – not an 11-year-old boy.”

Jason choked down a laugh as he ate, making Y/N’s eyes flicker to him for a moment.

“You’re a waste of the Wayne genes,” Damian spat. “What use are you?”

“Damian, that’s enough!” Bruce growled.

But the boy just slammed his silverware on the table and left the dining room.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Dick sighed as he politely placed his napkin on the seat and then slowly followed after the young boy.

“Y/N, I am very sorry for his behavior,” Bruce told his daughter.

“Yeah, the kid’s a fucking brat,” Jason mumbled.

And Bruce knew better than to scold Jason. He was a full-grown man now. And honestly, Damian was acting like a brat.

Y/N tried to hide her smirk at Jason’s comment.

“It’s OK,” Y/N muttered quietly. “But I don’t really know what else I can do to convince all of you that I’m not some gold-digger…”

“Well, none of us need convincing of that,” Jason instantly corrected her.

Once again, her eyes were drawn to his.

Bruce didn’t miss the way his daughter’s gaze kept finding its way to Jason. And he definitely didn’t miss how Jason watched her in return – almost like he was looking out for her, as if the manor had dangers she was unaware of.

“Jason is right,” Bruce agreed. “I recall you threatening me when I tried to pay off a few outstanding payments,” he teased her.

“Yeah, and I’m still pissed about that,” Y/N groaned, causing Bruce to smirk.

An awkward silence took over the dining room.

“I should probably get going,” Y/N sighed. “I have an early shoot tomorrow.”

“Right,” Bruce nodded.

“But I’ll help clean up before I leave,” she quickly added.

“Nonsense. There is no need for that,” Bruce argued.

“Do you need a ride back to the city?” Jason stood from the table as well. “I’m heading back to my place anyway.”

“Ummm,” she was caught off guard by the kind gesture.

Y/N had seen the way Jason behaved as the outsider of the family. It seemed he took any chance he could to push Bruce’s buttons. He bickered with Dick and bickered even more with Damian. Apparently he used to be awful to Tim, but had outgrown that awhile ago.

So Y/N just assumed that same energy would be given to her.

But Jason had been nothing but kind to her – even if he was also simultaneously distant.

“Actually, that would be great,” Y/N finally told him. “Let me go get my coat.”

When she went to the entryway to grab her things, she heard a conversation happening.

“I don’t want to apologize to her,” Damian hissed.

“I don’t care if you want to or not,” Dick countered. “You were extremely rude to her tonight. And for absolutely no reason.”

Just a few seconds later, Dick was guiding Damian toward Y/N.

“Heading out?” Dick asked with a smile, as if he wasn’t about to force this boy to apologize.

“Yep,” she answered.

“Damian, you have something to say?” Dick asked as he shoved the boy towards her.

“Sorry,” Damian mumbled.

“For what?” Dick pushed, a warning tone very clear.

Damian sighed. “For being rude.”

Y/N frown. “It’s fine. But I still plan on writing you out of Bruce’s will once I steal all the family money.”

Damian’s jaw looked like it was going to hit the floor.

“That’s what you get, demon spawn.” Jason laughed and he flicked the boy’s ear as he walked past to Y/N.

Even Dick and Bruce – who had just joined them again – seemed amused by Y/N’s joke.

It had left Damian absolutely speechless.

“Ready?” Jason asked Y/N.

––

And their relationship didn’t get much better after that.

Which is why Y/N was extremely confused why Bruce would ask her to look after him.

Couldn’t one of the older boys do it?

“There’s a…” Bruce hesitated, “work emergency. Alfred is actually on vacation. Damian’s been obsessing over a case and I don’t trust him to be on his own.”

“What about Dick or Tim?” Y/N countered.

“The boys are out of town. Jason isn’t picking up his phone, to no surprise.”

“That’s convenient…” Y/N sighed. “Bruce, look, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Damian hates me. And more importantly, he doesn’t respect me. So, I’m not exactly the best choice for his babysitter.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Y/N.”

“Bruce, come on.”

“He doesn’t. He just didn’t handle the news well. The boy takes awhile to process and accept things. And until that happens, there’s simply misplaced resentment.”

Y/N could tell by the speed of which Bruce was speaking that he must be desperate. Not to mention he had never asked anything of Y/N. All he ever wanted from her was for the two of them to spend time together.

“Fine,” Y/N finally sighed, giving up.

“Thank you, Y/N. Where can I drop him off?”

“Umm. I’m on my way to the gallery. I planned on being there for the rest of the day.”

“On Lexington Street?” Bruce clarified.

“Yup.”

“Would you prefer he stay the night at your place? Or would you rather come to the manor?”

“My place,” she quickly confirmed.

Sometimes the manor creeped her out – especially when there was hardly anyone there. When the whole family had dinner together, it felt full of life and happiness. But when most were gone, especially Bruce and Alfred, it could feel rather creepy.

Y/N never told anyone that, but she got the sense that Bruce figured as much.

“We will be there in 20,” and Bruce hung up.

———

Y/N was going over scheduling for things at the gallery when Bruce and Damian walked in.

For the first time since knowing him, Y/N thought Damian looked like your average child. He was dressed in slacks, a black sweater, and black converse sneakers – which was still nicer than most 11-year-old boys.

Maybe it was seeing him in a normal setting, Y/N wondered.

“It will only be 36 hours tops,” Bruce tried to tell Y/N.

Damian ignored his father, instead looking around at the gallery.

“Mhmm,” she agreed with her father.

“Be careful,” she added with a lift of her brow, silently telling Bruce that she knew he was going on some sort of mission – whether it was for Batman or the Justice League.

Bruce just nodded and gave Damian a warning look, silently telling him to behave.

And then he was off to save the world, probably.

Y/N planned on ignoring Damian until he felt like talking. It seemed like the safest plan.

After 10 or so minutes, she heard him ask, “Are these yours?”

He was pointing to one of Y/N’s photographs from her last show.

Y/N cleared her throat and crossed her arms. “They are.”

“I didn’t realize you were in the arts,” Damian answered bitterly.

“It’s not like you asked. In fact, you’ve never asked me anything, really. Just criticize me for being related to you.”

Damian watched Y/N for a moment, making her feel like they were having a stare down.

“Why did she keep you from him?”

Y/N didn’t need for him to clarify who he was talking about.

But her eyes raced around, making sure there were no people lingering in the gallery to eavesdrop.

“Why did she keep you from him?” Y/N countered.

“To control my father. My existence was only exposed when my mother wished to disrupt his life and distract him.”

Y/N had heard bits of information about Talia Al Ghul here and there. But there was still so much for her to learn about the woman. And she sounded…not great.

“So…” Damian stepped closer to her. “Why did your mother keep you from father?”

Y/N frowned and looked at the ground. “I didn’t even know he was my father until after she died. So it’s not like we ever had a conversation about it.”

“You must have a hypothesis of your own,” Damian urged.

“He broke her heart. And she resented him for it,” Y/N blurted out harshly. “I may not know Bruce as well as you, but there is one thing I do know: he’s rather good at convincing people he’s someone that he’s not. And I can only imagine that was why my mom refused to let him be a part of our lives.”

Damian was silent.

Y/N couldn’t tell if he was processing or ignoring her response, so she aggressively added, “That a good enough answer for you?”

He nodded.

“So, I’m not much of a cook,” she started shuffling through papers on her desk. “But I got us reservations for dinner tonight.”

“I’m vegetarian,” he snapped instantly.

Y/N glared at him. “I know. Which is why we’re going to Root.”

Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. But he quickly crossed his arms to try and hide it. “Hmph. I’ve heard of it. Dick says it’s impossible to get a reservation.”

It was a trendy restaurant, one that made all those lists for people who were desperate to be cool. Y/N thought “trendy” restaurants were annoying. Just because people talked about them, didn’t mean the food or drinks were any good. It was all just PR and marketing.

“It is hard to get into,” she agreed. “But one of my good friends runs its PR and socials. So she got us a table.”

Y/N didn’t appreciate how Damian ignored her efforts.

“Or I can cancel it," she sounded irritated. "And we can just go to Bat Burger or whatever.”

“No!” Damian blurted out. “I mean, yes.” He cleared his throat. “We can go to this restaurant.”

Y/N suppressed a smirk, but nodded at the boy.

She suddenly asked, “Why doesn’t Dick just use his relation to Bruce to get a reservation?”

Damian turned his nose slightly up towards the sky. “He doesn’t like taking advantage of the family name.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and mumbled, “How big of him…”

“And why don’t you?” Damian countered.

She sighed heavily. “Because I’m not a Wayne. I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. Not Y/F/N Wayne. And I never will be. OK?”

The door of the gallery flew open, grabbing both of their attention.

“Jason?” Y/N asked in surprise.

“Heard you got stuck babysitting the demon spawn,” Jason explained as he closed the door behind him.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Damian growled.

“Oh, yeah? So why she stranded with you then?” Jason countered.

Damian ignored the presence of his adoptive brother and kept strolling through the gallery, looking at the rest of the work.

It gave Y/N and Jason a moment alone.

“I can take him,” he sighed to her. “It’ll give me an excuse to eat all of the food at the manor and steal Bruce’s nicest wine.” He shrugged. “Or really do anything that will piss the guy off while he’s away.”

Jason had ignored Bruce’s calls and texts all day, knowing he wasn’t going to like what they were for.

However, when he found out Bruce had no choice but to ask Y/N to watch Damian, Jason immediately felt guilty.

So he came to relieve Y/N of her duties.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Y/N shrugged. “He’s here now.”

Jason didn’t expect her to fight him on this. Instead, he expected that she would be relieved to get Damian off her hands. At least, that’s how he’d feel.

“Now that you’re here,” Y/N began. “Would you…I don’t know…Would you want to come to dinner with us?”

“Sure.”

Y/N seemed surprised by his answer.

‘Shit. Did I respond too quickly?’ Jason wondered.

“Oh. OK. Awesome. We were going to take the subway.” She looked at her watch. “Oh, shoot! We should probably get going.”

“No need for the subway,” Jason tried to comfort her. “I brought my car.”

“Oh, alright then. Thanks.”

A few minutes later, Jason had pulled up while Y/N locked up the gallery.

Damian instantly hopped in the car.

“Alright, Demon Spawn. Think you can be on your best behavior tonight?” Jason warned as he looked at the boy in his backseat.

“What do you care, Todd?”

“Y/N’s been nothing but nice to you. And all you’ve been in return is a fuckin’ brat. She’s clearly trying real hard here. And it’s not like she had to.”

Damian and him got into stare down for a moment, before the boy finally said, “Fine.”

Y/N jumped into the car. “Know where you’re going?”

Jason nodded and threw the car into drive.

—————

Jason was shocked at how well Damian was behaving. He fully expected to be referee all night, scolding Damian when he said something rude or giving Y/N an apologetic look when needed.

But the dinner went…surprisingly well.

Damian’s interest in the gallery didn’t go past Y/N. And it seemed she finally found her lane when it came to conversation with her half brother.

Jason looked back and forth between the two as they talked about art for the entire meal. When that topic seemed exhausted, Y/N asked about his desire to become vegetarian. From that came animal rights. And so and so on.

Y/N tried to include Jason as much as possible. But it was clear Damian had no interest in what his brother had to say.

As the meal got to the end, Y/N flagged down their waitress.

“Could we get the check when you have a chance?”

The waitress look confused and then nervously looked at Jason. “Actually, your dinner has already been paid for by your date…”

Y/N blinked at the word ‘date’ and gave Jason an accusatory look.

The waitress sensed an argument and fled.

“What did you do?” Y/N asked Jason.

“Paid for dinner, obviously.”

“Jason,” Y/N whined. “It was supposed to be my treat.”

“Don’t worry about,” he brushed her off.

“Where exactly did you get money?” Damian questioned through a narrow gaze.

Jason gave him a mischievous smile. “I swiped one of Bruce’s many credit cards last time we ran into each other.”

Y/N slapped Jason’s arm. “That’s so much worse!”

“What!?” Jason feigned fear and protected himself from another hit. “Bruce would want you to let him pay for it anyway.”

Y/N groaned in frustration.

“Todd is right,” Damian surprised them by saying. “Father never let’s any of his children pay for their own food.”

Y/N just sighed, because there was nothing else for her to do.

Damian thought for a moment, and then looked absolutely disgusted.

“She called Todd your date. Gross,” he practically yakked.

Y/N smiled at the boy. That had been the least of her concerns. But when she glanced over at Jason, he pretended not to have been listening.

“Alright. Now that we’ve paid, ready to go?” She asked the two of them.

As they walked back to Jason’s car, he turned to Y/N. “How exactly were you planning on getting home before I tagged along?”

She shrugged as if it were obvious. “Just taking the subway home.”

Jason stopped dead in his tracks.

Damian followed suit, but it was clear he didn’t know why.

Jason’s voice was serious as he asked, “Do you always take public transit at night?”

Y/N’s shoulders raised in submission. “Umm…yeah?”

For some reason, Jason looked mad. “Do you not watch the news?”

“I mean, yeah. What’s your point?”

“Do you know how many cases of civilians getting attacked on the subway or buses that we come across every night?” Jason scoffed. “This isn’t fuckin’ New York City.”

Now Y/N had enough of his anger.

“I never said it was,” she snapped right back. “Listen, I’ve lived in this city my whole life. And it’s not exactly cost efficient to take a cab everywhere. I’m not some billionaire. I have a budget, OK? Sorry you’re so offended by it.”

“Todd’s right,” Damian said for the second time that night. It must be a record. “It’s not safe taking public transit at night. You would’ve been fine with me, obviously. But it’s habit you should break.”

“Great.” Y/N rolled her eyes. "You too, now.”

The ride back to her place was awkwardly silent.

Jason was smart enough to realize that he’d pissed Y/N off, so he didn't push conversation. And it wasn’t like Damian was some sort of chatterbox.

The car had barely stopped in front of Y/N's building when she was shot out of it.

“Hey!” Jason called gently to her.

Y/N turned around with an unimpressed look.

“If you ever need a lift somewhere, just call me.”

“Whatever,” she just mumbled and waited for Damian to follow her.

Y/N showed Damian around her apartment and told him he could put his stuff in the second bedroom.

Rent was cheap enough in Gotham that she could afford a guest room in a decent apartment.

Damian wasn’t known for his empathy, but he could tell Jason had upset Y/N.

“Todd can be a jerk, but he gets that way when he cares,” the boy offered carefully.

Y/N was surprised by his loyalty to Jason. After all, she really had only witnessed the two of them being awful to each other.

But it caused her to really consider what Damian was trying to tell her.

“I walk around with taser and pepper spray at all times,” she tried to defend.

Damian shrugged. “Unfortunately, that is not always enough.”

Y/N just exhaled.

“Why don’t you just let father purchase you a car?”

She smirked. “First you thought I was just trying to steal the family fortune, but now you want me to use it at every chance?”

“You are part of the family now. And we look out for one another.”

“Oh?” Y/N smiled. “And now you consider me family?”

Damian rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“Fine.” She showed him mercy. “Would you like to watch a movie and eat some ice cream?”

Damian’s eyes widened. “Alfred only lets me have ice cream on the weekends.”

“Well,” she sang. “I don’t see Alfred here, do you?”

After that night, things slowly got better between Y/N and Damian.

--------

I still enjoy writing for this universe. As long as people comment and let me know they like these, I'll keep writing them. 🤷🏼‍♀️

[cottagecore-onceler]

Chapter 3 / Onceler x Reader

As it turned out, your mom was actually in a pretty rough shape. She fell off her monocycle driving way too fast, as usual, and broke her leg in 3 places. She couldn’t walk on her own, so you had to help her when your dad went to work. Doctors said she should be almost completely recovered in 6 months. You did your best hiding frustration and discontent. You missed the peace and quiet of your cabin, you missed your daily bike rides, you missed your cosy bed, you even missed the movie theatre and its tacky, vintage ceiling, and… well, you also missed Onceler.

Your parents' house was around 2 hours away by bike from his cottage, in a small town, surrounded by hills a little bit higher than the ones next to Greenville. After leaving Onceler’s cottage it took you 3 hours to get there, because you’d constantly stop and check your phone. “Something might’ve happened to mom”, you rationalised it in your head, but deep down you knew it wasn’t the case. You wanted him to call and it killed you that he still didn’t. When you arrived, you forced a smile and tried to be as helpful as you could. But you still waited to finally hear from him. “Maybe this was a mistake?”, you kept asking yourself.

He called. In the evening, exactly 11 hours and 32 minutes after you had left him. You were excited, but also frustrated. What took him so long? Didn’t he care about you at all?

- Hear me out - his voice sounded extremely tired - I am so, so sorry for calling so late. But you’ll never guess what happened.

- What? - you asked, trying to stay at least a little bit cold.

- Clients! A lot of clients! They want to buy my thneeds - he raised his voice with excitement - I woke up, you weren’t there, so I panicked and then… - he had to take a breath - they started pounding on my door! I had to knitt all day! You wouldn’t believe it.

- Wow - you were actually surprised - that’s amazing! Told you it takes time.

- Yea, I guess - he laughed - so, how’s your mom?

- She’s… fine - you sighed - I’m gonna have to stay with her for the next 6 months. She ummm… can’t walk on her own. But she’ll recover.

- Good! - he shouted - I mean, that’s terrible, obviously, but I’m glad she’ll get better.

- Yea - you muttered - me too. 

- And ummm… what about you? - he asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

- I’ll be back as soon as she recovers. I already miss my cabin. This town really sucks.

- It sure does - he agreed, obviously, as he grew up there as well - I can’t wait for you to be back then, I guess.

- I can’t wait to be back as well - you said - can’t believe I still don’t own a thneed.

- I can make one for you! - he said and, even though you couldn’t see him, you just knew his eyes were sparkling with excitement - it will be the best one so far.

You heard your mom calling your name.

- I gotta go - you stopped - talk to you tomorrow?

- Same time?

...

(Air - Playground Love playing softly in the background)

For the next 6 months you’d speak to each other on the phone every day. He’d tell you about his business growing, you’d tell him about your family and the town. 

- I know I’m surrounded by family and friends, but I’ve never felt lonelier.

- Yea, I think I know what you mean.

You’d talk about your childhood friends and how their lives turned out, about your goals, their goals and life in general. 

- My family came to visit, ya know? To help me with the thneeds. It brings back a lot of memories.

- Good or bad?

- Um… a little bit of both.

- Same here. You won’t believe who I bumped into today!

- Tell me.

He seemed to be excited about the business, but also extremely overwhelmed. You wished you were back there to help him somehow. His family’s presence couldn’t have been a positive influence.

- I’m exhausted. We were biggering the workshop today.

- What’s it like now?

- Um… bigger?

- How big!

- Not that much.

- So… you must be excited?

- I mean, I guess!

It really felt like no time had passed since you two were best friends, running around the Truffula trees. You’d tell each other secrets, ask for opinions and laugh like neither one of you had laughed in years.

- Tell me something you’ve never told anyone before.

- Okay, let me think… I sometimes fantasise about my brothers never being born. 

- That… does not surprise me at all. 

- No way! Your turn.

- When I was 13 I used to steal things, like, a lot of things.

When you talked to him, the loneliness vanished. You felt like everything was in the right place, like you finally belonged. You really missed him and you knew he missed you too.

- You know, I sometimes feel like… like I suck at life? 

- What do you mean?

- I feel like I will never accomplish anything meaningful and I’m actually okay with that. Like, that’s just the way I’m programmed. I don’t do real life.

- Well, then don’t. Who’s gonna stop you?

- Literally the anatomy of my body? I need food to stay alive.

- I can make pancakes when you get back.

He’d call every day, no matter how tired he was. It soon became obvious that the both of you just wanted to hear each other’s voice, no matter how much you’d have to say.

- So… I got a new suit today!

- No way! Describe it.

- It’s… green. And I made matching gloves. From thneed.

- A suit and gloves? You’re kidding.

- No sir. I look like a proper businessman now.

- God, I wish I could see that.

- I think you’d like it.

Even though you wouldn’t physically see each other, you’d constantly fantasise about him being there with you. In your imagination, Onceler sat next to you while eating breakfast. He helped you with the laundry and disinfected your bleeding finger after you accidentally caught it. When you went on walks, he seemed to be walking next to you, holding your hand. When the two of you weren’t talking over the phone, you had imaginary conversations in your head. You had created infinite alternative universes, all of which included living a happy life together. In some of them, Onceler became successful and the two of you were filthy rich. In others, his business flopped and you ended up growing your own vegetables and fruit. One of them was particularly interesting and exciting - it took you a while to perfectly develop each and every detail. In this fantasy you were diagnosed with a non life threatening, almost asymptomatic chronic disease, which made you incapable of doing regular work. For some reason this mysterious illness didn’t affect your bike riding abilities. Onceler was stunned - he promised to take care of you forever. The two of you got married. He worked hard so you could spend your days walking around the forest and foraging mushrooms, learning how to make a perfect risotto ai funghi porcini. As cold, winter months were passing, you spent more and more time in your head.

These moments were the highlight of your time back home. Each morning you crossed a day off on a calendar: 4 months left, 8 weeks left, 22 days left… Finally, you woke up and there it was: tomorrow. You were going back to your cabin tomorrow.

That day was particularly boring. You washed the dishes, cleaned the windows, vacuumed. When you finished your chores it was already dark, so you decided not to rush and leave first thing in the morning. You sat in an old, mustard armchair and waited for your daily call.

But he didn’t call.

It confused you a little bit, but, hey, you two were probably gonna meet the next day. Maybe he’ll surprise you at your cabin? Or come pick you up at your parents’? You became a little anxious - after all, you had only spent one evening together, what were you expecting? A grand gesture? You weren’t even dating. It was the moment when you realised you weren’t really sure what the two of you were. Pen pals? Friends? Future lovers? You needed to come back to get answers. 

You couldn’t fall asleep that night. And when you finally did, you kept waking up, covered in sweat, hyperventilating. Around 3 in the morning you finally managed to get some rest. You dreamed about him. He was sitting in a ridiculously large chair, in a top hat and a suit, with giant, endless piles of money behind him. You weren’t in the room with him. You were standing outside, among Truffulas, observing him through a window, unable to move or speak. Then you woke up and decided to finally hit the road. 

Your mom made you cookies, your dad thanked you for your help. And that was it, you left on your bike heading for the Truffula Valley.

[1kook]

youtube & use lube

part 7 of my netflix and chill collection!

summary: You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube.  warnings: smut in the forms of nipple play, handjobs, spit kink, face riding, unprotected, flavored warming lube, riding, praise kink, soft femdom, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, tit sucking, more jk has an impreg kink, oh and this is all subby kook rating: mature (18+) miscellaneous: domesticity baby!! fluff, soft scenes /.\, jk is sick:((, doyeon is A Doctor, yn sees an opportunity and she grabs it, surprise ending <3  word count: 8.7k  

notes: finally…. 7 parts later and we get ~✨💓sub kook💓✨~ this was honestly my fave to write I think because I was obSESSEDDD with his softness and yn leading hehe /.\ also yeah we time jumped 6 months bc uhmmm 😎 story progression also here’s [ THE KOOK U SHOULD IMAGINE FOR THIS 😡 ] also if see a typo ummm no u didn't .

let me know what u think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

Despite what past experiences may dictate, Jungkook’s body is actually quite resilient. It’s due in part to his obnoxiously healthy lifestyle; avocado breakfasts, gym rat tendencies, and a normal person’s circadian rhythm (you could never relate). He lives the life health professionals can only dream of writing down in their notes, so careful of his well-being that it’s almost annoying. Of all the habits you help him break, the rituals he sometimes forgets, his health is never one and it’s actually one he ropes you into quite often. The ladder accident last summer had truly been an odd occurrence, and for a while after, you doubt anything else will ever happen to him. 

And then winter comes. 

Now, Jungkook, with all his superior bodily systems and strict lifestyle, is still not immune to the common cold. So when he comes down with a stuffy nose, a saggy frame, you’re not too surprised. It’s right after New Year’s, which you had spent it at one of Taehyung’s classic overcrowded parties this year, shivering on a rooftop as he kissed you silly under the fireworks, so one of you was bound to get sick. And you were sick for Halloween, so it’s only the universe’s way of leveling the playing field when he gets sick after New Years. 

What does surprise you is when he doesn’t bounce back right away. Usually, Jungkook’s high caliber immune system has him in tip top shape about two days later. But this time around, it takes a while. In fact, it takes longer than usual, and you don’t realize until you’re coming over on a Friday night, met with an unusual silence at the Jeon household. 

As you slowly grew accustomed to your life out of school, you and Jungkook accepted that you didn’t really have time to be glued to each other’s hips at all hours of the day. It was only natural that sometimes you had too much work, were too tired, or were just not in the mood to visit each other. That was fine, and you’ve come to quite appreciate this new routine, because it only made your heart flutter faster than before when you did see him next. You don’t have to see each other everyday, and that was fine; it was part of growing up together (and growing old together, your sappy heart says).

But today, this separation ends up being your downfall. Jungkook first showed signs of a cold on Monday, and now it was Friday and you hadn’t heard from him in two days. You’re beginning to suspect he’s come down with something severe— maybe that strain of the flu that he forgot to get vaccinated for this year —or even worse, dead.

Luckily, Jungkook isn’t dead, just sadly slumped across the end of his bed, nose a bright red and hair a tangled mess. “Oh no,” you frown, but there’s not an ounce of distress in your voice, because boy, was he cute. 

He groans at the sight of you. “Don’t look at me,” he whimpers, hands fisting the sheets. “I’m ugly.”

You bite down on a smile, hang your bag on the hook behind his bedroom door. He’s barely making an effort to stay on the bed, clinging to the side with such powerless hands. “Absolutely hideous,” you play along, arms wrapping around his middle. Registering your touch, your support, he immediately releases what little grip he had and almost sends the two of you tumbling to the ground. “My poor baby,” you croon, manhandling him back into the comfort of his sheets. 

Perhaps the reason you believed Jungkook was so immune was because, well, he never let you see him sick. 

He was picky about his presentation to the world, always wanting to show his best side. And well, you were in that world. Hell, you were probably the main person he wanted to show off for (not to toot your own horn), so he avidly avoided showing you his unpleasant sides. Even in college, when you had been practically stuck to his side, he had always made a big deal of pushing you away when he was sick, calling off dates and hiding away at his house. 

You sort of knew why. Namjoon had told you once that Jungkook when drunk was the equivalent of a needy, whiny baby. You could attest to that because wine drunk Jungkook and vodka drunk Jungkook were quite the experiences to haul home. And apparently Jungkook when sick was more or less the same. He was all doe eyes and pouty lips, magnified by his weakened appearance. He was adorable. 

He’s wearing a lot of layers, but it’s still winter so you don’t think too much of it. Dark long sleeve sweatshirt, the front tucked into some cute brown and black checkered pants. You see it as just some casual at home attire until you reach for his covers, hand brushing his hair from his face, only to find it ice cold. 

“Oh, you’re freezing, honey,” you frown, for real this time. Jungkook whimpers, snuggles into the sheets you pull up to his chin. He dozes off soon after, pouty lips chapped to hell and back. You reach for your chapstick, deciding to get one good use of it on your own lips before contaminating it with Jungkook’s sick germs. Even in his sleep he’s a good boy, rolling his lips together after you’ve applied it on him. 

With Jungkook knocked out, you pad back downstairs and into his kitchen. You can more or less infer that he’s come down with something a little more intense than a cold. His skin was cold, and his nose was runny, but, oddly enough, he wasn’t sweating. You decide to consult a professional. 

“The little gremlin is sick?” Doyeon repeats, a comforting buzz in your ear as you get to work making Jungkook your famous Get Better Soon Soup, idly waiting for the water to boil over. You confirm. Doyeon, legend that she was, accidentally sat an entire physiology class one semester (and passed), so this is the closest you’ll get to a doctor friend. “Hm,” she says, “what’re his symptoms?”

You press your phone between your ear and shoulder, clattering around Jungkook’s kitchen for ingredients. “Runny nose and colder than your ass that one time you passed out in the snow,” you supply. “Oh, but not sweating.”

Doyeon hums over the line, tells you to give her a second, and disappears. “WebMD is saying fever, but you said he’s not sweating?” You confirm again. “Throw him in front of the heater and make him sweat then. He has to burn it out somehow.”

“I can’t do that,” you sigh, pausing when you hear some vague sound from around the house. It’s not Jungkook, so you return to your call. Anyway, Jungkook’s house is, like, perfect. Always warm when need be and always cold as well. You don’t even think he knows what a space heater is. “He’s sick sick. Like, can barely hold himself up sick.” 

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Anyway, Jungkook probably has a fever, except it’s weird because he’s not sweating it out. He wakes up about an hour later, but this time he’s more self aware. He eats his soup and takes the medicine you offer him. Afterwards, he can’t go back to sleep so he huffily asks for his iPad and begins watching some weirdly specific YouTube videos you don’t think you’ve ever seen him watch before. 

You have absolutely no idea what he’s watching, some niche videos of guys in Singapore turning random forest areas into underwater pools? You don’t know. Jungkook seems interested, though, for all of ten minutes until he falls asleep again. 

He’s still cold, poor baby, nose like an ice cube that just won’t melt. You find a heating pad you left over in his closet and place it on his chest. Your thought process is that if his heart, the source of all energy, was warm, then certainly the rest of him will warm up soon enough. Yeah, you missed the last three seasons of Grey’s Anatomy; you were a little rusty. 

So with Jungkook fast asleep and nothing else to do, you assume the age-old, patriarchal task of cleaning around the house. 

His house was usually neat and tidy, mostly as a result of Jungkook’s virgo manifestations, but even those varied. His living room tended to be spotless, but his personal office was a different story. But with him having been out of it this past week, the entire house is littered in tiny garbage that would make Normal Jungkook burst a blood vessel.

There’s a pile of Reese’s wrappers in the downstairs bathroom, on the sink next to his toothbrush. The sight makes you sad, because your poor boy must have been struggling if he was eating candy in the bathroom, where he… uses the bathroom. And then that thought makes you even sadder, thinking back to all the times he was sick and alone, fending for himself out of his weird embarrassment of showing normal body functions. 

You had thought he was cute when you first arrived— he still was —but he was also so weak and frail, bulky muscles rendered useless by whatever bacteria was attacking his body, making him sleepy and in pain for god knows how long. With a resolute nod, you sweep all the wrappers into the trash and decide to do your very best at helping Jungkook get through this sickness and bounce back better than ever. 

Before leaving his bathroom, you ransack his cabinets, deciding he probably keeps most of his antibiotics here. It’s a spot you never really snoop around, because Jungkook always keeps a fully stocked basket in his closet filled with your typical necessities— from conditioner to pads to nail polish remover, he kept it all. And furthermore, you always tended to use his upstairs bathroom anyway, so that’s where your toothbrush and the like were kept. There was really no need for you to ever look through the downstairs bathroom’s cabinet. So the downstairs bathroom cabinet is practically the other side of the world to you, a culture shock so strong it has you plopping down in front of it to thoroughly sift through. 

He’s got a disgusting amount of hair products, none of which you actually think you’ve ever seen him use, and a maniacal amount of tooth stuff. Now, you were quite possibly the biggest proponent for dental care, but this was ridiculous. Four packs of floss on reserve, and about three cases of those dental picks. A whole family pack of toothbrushes and one of those cute little cases for his retainer you’ve seen a few times. 

So overwhelmed with his ungodly stash of dental hygiene utilities, you almost miss the pretty pink tube hidden in the very back corner. 

You’re thinking it’s some makeup primer you left before that he mistook for moisturizer, probably dumped it with all his other things, only to find out you are very, very wrong. 

Sensation Warming Lubricant: NOW! in strawberry flavor 

You blink. 

Lubricant? Jungkook was using lubricant? Strawberry, sensation warming lubricant?!

Somewhere in your mind you had convinced yourself that Jungkook was a simple man, a lotion at his bedside drawer type of man. He had you for the last one and half year, and you two fucked like rabbits, so you hardly doubt he was jacking it alone these days. And even if he was, why on earth was he so specific about the type of lube he uses?

You turn the bottle around, eyes scanning for an expiration date or something of the like, only to find that the copyright symbol was under this current year. The year that had just started, like, two weeks ago. 

Oh, so this was new. 

You turn it over, eyes scanning over the warnings like it’ll tell you something about your boyfriend you don’t know yet, some other hidden secret that he’s maybe held from you. Granted, owning lube isn’t really a big deal, but the fact he’s got it so hidden away (not really, it was casually sitting beside his sunscreen) was definitely something to zero in on. 

Strawberry flavored, you read again, warming, stimulating, edible? Forget his weirdly extensive floss collection, you had stumbled upon something amazing in here, the goddamn Hope Diamond among snooping girlfriend finds. You’ll confront him about this later, you decide, when he’s back to normal and not whiningly calling your name from upstairs. You pocket it for now, tucking it into your cardigan pockets for said later interrogation, and bound up the stairs to him again. 

He’s sitting up in bed like a very angry and confused toddler, brows furrowed sharply like he’s mad. Actually, he just can’t see, the light from the hallway blinding him, so you shut the door and flick on his bedside lamp for him instead. “Hi, honey,” you coo, sitting down on the edge beside him. He’s still waking up, leaning a little too heavily into your palm when you cup his face. “How’re you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he rasps out, but he’s definitely looking better than before. You don’t know if you imagine it, but there’s this slowly accumulating sweat that forms along the base of his neck. “Please don’t leave again,” he says softly, droopy eyes glassy. 

Something shoots straight to your heart— an arrow from Cupid himself! —that makes you stroke his cheek tenderly until his eyelids are fluttering shut again. “I won’t,” you promise, feeling around for his iPad. He doesn’t seem like he’ll fall back asleep, sitting up with more strength than he had that morning. 

You end up climbing behind him, let him be the little spoon you know he secretly craves to be, as he watches his weird YouTube videos again. His body is so warm against yours, but his skin is still so cold. If what Doyeon had said was true, it’s no wonder he’s kept the same sickness all week. The rhythmic sound of machetes hacking at the earth and water trickling through bamboo pipes grows on you, makes you fall into a sense of comfort behind him, arms tracing circles over his chest. 

It’s a mindless habit, one you actually do a lot. Most of the time, it’s when he’s at his desk and stressed out, your masseuse hands making an appearance to soothe the muscles in his neck and chest from being hunched over for so long. Even now, your fingers unconsciously press into the fabric over his pecks, tickle up his sternum until he’s melting against you. 

It takes one quiet whimper from him to let you know exactly how he’s feeling. “Everything alright?” you inquire, halting your movements over his chest. Jungkook nods shakily, head lolling forward. The nape of his neck calls to you, whispers for a kiss that you tenderly bestow upon it. It makes Jungkook jolt, another pretty sound leaving his lips at the press of your warm lips against his sensitive neck. 

“No more,” he mumbles, rolls his head around until it’s resting against your shoulder, giving you a clear view down his chest. You slide your hands back up from where they’d gone stiff just around his ribs, let them palm over his pecs. Jungkook’s hips buck, a minuscule movement you almost miss. 

His heart thunders like the inside of a horse race track beneath your palm, breath picking up just from the simple motion of your hands on his chest. It’s on the fourth circle around his pecs that you feel your pinky briefly catch on something. “Poor thing,” you sigh, running the pad of your pointer finger over the hardened nipple that peaks beneath his sweatshirt. “Is this what was bothering you?” 

A shaky exhale in response, hands tightly clutching at his iPad and beloved YouTube video genre. “N-No,” he denies, but you chance a peak at his face, where his lips are bitten a rosy pink color, its slightly muted sister rushing down his cheeks, over his neck. 

You press the lightest of kisses to the side of his neck, and he shivers. “Need me to take care of you?” you purr, trail your hands down his chest towards where the hem of his sweater sits. You run your finger over it twice, before moving to slip your hand beneath. Your fingers brush along his abs, contracted tightly at your touch, and slowly make their way back up his chest. 

Fingers find his pebbled nipples, a gasp escaping his lips. “Does this feel good?” you ask softly, pinching the swollen nubs between your fingers. Jungkook groans, body arching just the slightest as you rub his nipples, tug and twist them until he’s a whining mess. “Need you to tell me, honey,” you encourage, lips ghosting over his neck. 

The second kiss has him flinching as well, head rapidly turning the other way as you slowly kiss over his neck. “___, please,” he pants, knuckles pale on the sides of the iPad. You're afraid it’ll snap, if not from his grip then from the way he pushes at it, like he’s breaking a wooden board over his knee. It’s still on YouTube, playing another video from the same collection, volume competing with Jungkook’s tiny sounds. 

Pressing your lips to his neck, you kiss along it slowly, reveling in the lovely noises that Jungkook produces the more you rub his nipples, lower body squirming animatedly before you. Your kisses grow wet for a short period, suck purple blossoms across his skin until Jungkook is quivering like a leaf. “E-Enough,” he begs, voice a wobbly mess that is so light and airy. 

You grin, giving his rockhard nipples one last flick before sliding your hands down his chest, over his stomach to toy with the elastic of his pants. He inhales sharply, iPad nearly snapped in half mid video. Ready to play with him some more (and slightly afraid for the future of his tablet), you reach out a hand to move it away, set it off to the side. 

But Jungkook doesn’t release it. In fact, he clings to the damn piece of tech tighter than before. “Hmm?” you murmur, bottom lip brushing against his neck once more. “Not letting go, sweetheart?” 

He shakes his head, soft crown of curls bouncing from the movement. “Can’t, can’t,” he shivers. His knees shift back and forth, move between being casually spread and flush together. Like he’s hiding something, using the iPad and the videos on screen as cover. You tug at his wrist and Jungkook shakes his head again. 

You change tactics, hand sliding around his wrist instead. The other travels up, up, up, comes curling around the base of his neck. Jungkook whimpers, tilts his head back for you cutely at the first brush of your fingers against his Adam’s apple. “Thought you were my good boy?” you ask, eyes zeroed in on the tremble of his lower lip. 

Jungkook exhales shakily, a rather torn expression crossing his features. “I am,” he insists, fingers still tight “I am your good boy.”

You smile, stroking the front of his neck softly as you lean down to press a kiss against his cheek. “You are, aren’t you?” He whimpers. “Then let go, honey,” you murmur, hand on his wrist giving another experimental tug. Still, his grip remains solid. “Jungkook,” you snap, “let go.”

“Y-You’ll laugh,” he cries, yet his grip slowly weakens. It’s with a swift tug that the iPad tumbles to his side, presses against his hip, and shows you the raging hard-on that stirs beneath the front of his cotton pants. Pressed nearly beside your ear, Jungkook shivers. 

Ever so slowly, your hands return to their place around his waist. “Why would I laugh, sweetheart?” you mumble, marveling at the way his cock twitches and jumps beneath his pants before you can even touch it. His shirt is hiked up just above his abs, your hands tenderly stroking over the skin beneath his navel, but it’s got Jungkook writhing. “Hips up for me,” you instruct. 

He shakes even when he pushes himself up, knees wobbling as you slip your hands beneath his waistband and tug them down his thighs. Afterwards, his legs flop forward flatly, spread out with his beautiful swollen cock on display against his hip. 

You trap it at the base and Jungkook mewls, hands fisting the sheets now that his beloved iPad has been snatched away. It’s still playing his videos, interrupting his saccharine moans with corny ads every few minutes. A hand snaps up to join, opposite of yours, until your fingers are entwined around his dick. How romantic, you think, discreetly rolling your hips back against the mattress. “Gonna help me make you cum?” you ask instead, give him a light squeeze that makes him jolt. 

“Uh huh,” he responds, feathery. 

You reward him with a kiss to his cheek, reaching up to brush away the hair that’s begun sticking to his forehead. In the very back of your head you recognize this as being good for his fever, but the rest of you is more concerned with the pretty pout on his lips. “Hold tight for me,” you smile, releasing his cock to press your finger against the very tip of his cock where a pearly drop of precum has begun forming. “So pretty, Jungkookie,” you praise, teasing the length of your finger over the slit on his head. It has that juicy droplet coating your finger, gliding seamlessly over and over again. 

The simple touch makes him buck, has him blindly wrapping an arm around your bent knee that was pressed to his side this whole time. He squeezes around you rather weakly, the majority of his strength going to holding his cock tightly like you’d instructed. He’s such a good boy for you, trying his absolute best, even when you’re very obviously overwhelming him. 

You roll the flat side of your finger over him, his mushroom tip slowly growing more and more slick as he produces more precum. It’s shiny, fits perfectly between your clasped fingers when you squeeze around his head. Jungkook’s breath turns labored. 

He’s always so well kept down there, skin so smooth and free of hairs, and you know he does it because he wants to impress you. “So pretty, baby,” you hum, acknowledging his efforts. Your praise makes Jungkook moan, suddenly fucking up into his hand. It’s accidental, because he hisses at the drag of his dry palm around his relatively dry dick immediately. 

“Hurts, hurts,” he whimpers prettily, lower lip caught between his teeth. 

You frown, slide your wet fingers down the base of his cock until they’re wrapping around his and Jungkook’s little gasps even out. “I’m sorry, baby, you gotta be patie—“

Something presses against your hip, something distinctly hard that you had hastily picked up from his bathroom cabinet earlier, and a whole new door opens before your eyes. “Hold still for me,” you tell him quickly as you release your grip around his cock. Jungkook wails at the separation, but you’re more concerned with wrestling the tube out of your pocket with one hand. It’s heavy in your palm, turning over until that big fat label on front comes into view again. 

Jungkook explodes at the sight. “Wh— Where did you find that?” he stammers, cheeks ablaze. “I-I don’t know where that came fro—“

You ignore him, hold the bottle of lubricant over his stomach as you uncap it, a gooey pink substance spilling over into your hands the moment the lid pops off. Jungkook is still rambling away about the origins of the bottle, as if you care. You set the bottle on his tummy, the cold plastic makes him shiver. But you know what’s not cold? The warming lube in your hands that only takes three rubs of your palms to activate. 

You latch down like a crazed animal around his cock. With both your hands fighting to grip at his cock, you’re pressed closer against Jungkook, lips against the shell of his ear. 

The initial touch makes him sob, back arching and legs kicking at the sheets piled at the foot of the bed as your slick hands track the lube over his dick. “No!” he cries, hands wildly reaching out to grab whatever he can as you slowly get to work pulling him off. “I-I can’t, __, I can’t.”

“You can,” you coo, watching the translucent pink substance coat his cock, join his sticky precum. 

Maybe you get overexcited in your efforts, forget Jungkook is the way he is right now because he was still a little weak from his fever, but you go crazy on stroking his cock. One hand lingers around the base, squeezing and rolling over his balls, palm pressing against the hardened sac and squeezing there too. The other focuses at the tip, does most of the actual stroking over his cock. His head is leaking precum now, every stroke and squeeze making him shudder and push out another drop, until it’s mixing with the lube to form a sticky sweet substance that you wanna lick at so bad. 

So you do. 

You release one hand to curiously bring it up to your face, turning it over and around as you examine the stickiness on your fingers, the fat drop that unintentionally drips onto the front of Jungkook’s sweatshirt. He sobs at the sight of your lips around your fingers, squirms and bucks into the hand still on his cock until he’s embarrassingly coming. “I’m sorry,” he wails, hands fisting the sheets, fucking into your hand like a virgin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

You draw your hand away, watching in slow motion the cum that just spurted from his cock come dribbling down the slowly softening length now. “Oh, sweetheart,” you croon, hands on his tummy. The bottle of lube slips to the side, meets the still playing iPad at his hip. It’s sticky and gross to touch him like this, especially when you know Jungkook hates being unnecessarily dirty, but you can’t stop yourself from softly caressing him, soothe him after such a hard-hitting orgasm. 

Honestly you had thought he would hold up a little more, let you get in a few more strokes, but he must’ve been more sensitive than you thought. “I’m sorry,” he cries again, head lolling to the side to meet your gaze with watery eyes. 

You tilt his head to the side, angle him just right for you to bestow your first kiss of the night against his little pout. Jungkook hiccups, melts against you as you slowly guide him through the kiss. He’s sloppy and shy, moves nothing like your normal Jungkook, and that fact alone has you slipping your tongue past his lips. He doesn’t fight back, just lets you play with him and sighs all delicately against your mouth. 

There’s something about this, his soft and submissive attitude, that has you pulling away to look at him. Big brown eyes, glassed over with unshed tears, and plush lips that call your name. And yet. 

“Open,” you murmur, hypnotized by the way that tiny mouth moves. 

“Huh?” Jungkook flushes, but he’s so good, he’s your good boy, and does so anyway. Lower lip quivers as he parts his lips, stuttering exhales creeping through as you purse your lips, let the saliva collect on your mouth, before rudely spitting into his. He flinches, whimpers softly, and swallows. He looks at you with these expectant eyes, like he wants to hear how much of a good boy he is, so you do exactly that. 

You brush his bangs away lovingly. “Aren’t you just so good for me,” you purr, revel in the way his eyes flutter shut at your touch, like you could never hurt him, and you won’t. 

As sweet as the moment is, there’s a raging fire in your core begging to be stroked, and your hyperfixation on Jungkook’s mouth lets you know there’s only one way to chase the feeling. “Up,” you tell Jungkook, who whimpers sadly when you finally escape from behind him. 

But you don’t get too far, settling beside him on the bed until you’re looking at the damage you’ve caused from the front. His skin is sticky in some places, pink sheen of the lube decorating him from your incessant touching. Pants around his thighs, shirt against his chest. His face is flushed, all the way down to his chest and up to his ears, so rosy and pink all for you. He shies away under your gaze, drops his head to his chin bashfully. 

You grin, shuffle forward to turn those pretty eyes back towards you. “Messy little thing,” you tease, slotting your mouths together again. Jungkook moans this time, lazily kissing you back. His lips move in slow motion, trembling hands reaching for your face to cup, your name falling from his lips when you pull away slightly. “Need you to help me out now,” you murmur, hand on his jaw. “Can you do that, honey?” Jungkook nods hurriedly, eyes foggy and on your mouth. “Lay back.”

He does so, rushes to lay against the pillows until he’s flat on his back. You get to work on your clothes, shed your cardigan and languidly tug your top over your head in the way you know makes your breasts bounce. Beneath you, Jungkook whines at the sight. “You too,” you remind him, wiggling out of your jeans. At your instruction, he begins fumbling with his clothes, pants and underwear haphazardly thrown over the edge of the bed. 

By the time you’re naked, you’re met with a rather amusing sight. 

In his haste to take his clothing off, Jungkook seems to have gotten himself tangled in his long sleeves, shirt awkwardly bunched up around his wrists and twisted over some. You chuckle. “Help please,” he asks so politely, shaking his arms back and forth above his head. But you’re genuinely confused as to what he did, because one of the sleeves wraps around the other, pins the bulk of the fabric to his skin, and then the other wraps around that. A mess you don’t bother dissecting, simply climbing over him. He complains, of course, soft huffs you wave off. 

“Don’t need them anyway,” you shrug, can’t help the lovesick look you send him when you brush his hair away for the umpteenth time. Jungkook leans into the touch sweetly, rosy cheek pressed against your palm. “Lemme see your pretty little tongue,” you order, pussy clenching when he does as told and rolls his tongue out for you, tip pressed against his bottom lip. “Good boy.”

A soft whimper, and then you’re shuffling over him, pretty doe eyes watching with amazement when you finally hover over his face. “For me?” he asks so softly, so sweetly. 

It’s a question you’ve heard him utter countless times before in similar settings, always with a cocky grin and mean eyes, ready to send you to hell and back with his tongue or his cock. But it’s different now, big shiny eyes looking at you like you’re the greatest thing to ever happen in his life, so pliant and demure beneath your touch like he lived to serve you. 

“All for you,” you assure him, get comfortable, and slowly lower your pussy over his face. His eyes flutter shut immediately, pink tongue ready for you by the time your dripping cunt nears his face. 

You can’t help the moan that tears itself from your throat, a soft cry as he begins lapping against your folds. He’s so tender, so careful. It drives you crazy. Hands above his head squirming as you slowly grind your pussy over his face, more mindful than usual because he was so delicate tonight, like a baby bird that shivers with the simplest touch. 

His tongue is smooth, circles around your clit. He nudges your bundle of nerves back and forth a few times, sends an initial wave of tingles down your spine, before taking it between puckered lips. His slurps it into his mouth, where it’s so hot and wet, it makes your grind stutter. “Oh,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. “P-Perfect,” you mumble. 

The praise makes his features twist up cutely, mouth desperate to get more out of you. “You like that?” you gasp, holding his head still as he runs his tongue along your folds. Jungkook nods, eyes glazed over as he messily begins eating you out. “Like when I tell you you’re a good boy, Jungkookie?” 

He lets out a broken whine, the vibrations shooting up your spine and making you shiver. Tongue pressed in at your entrance, prods gently like it’s his first time (it’s not) and he’s gauging your reactions. “Oh baby,” you shudder, fingers tightening in his curls. 

He looks like an angel beneath you like this, halo of curls artfully splayed across the sheets, arms knotted above his head. Big pretty eyes that make you want to lay down and be his bitch instead, their power just so strong even when he’s whining and whimpering against your pussy like this. His tongue dips into your cunt, makes you buck against him by accident. “I’m sorry, angel,” you breathe, so caught up in your thoughts that the name just slips. It makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a pretty pink, arms tug at their makeshift restraints. But his brain is scattered, torn between releasing himself, eating you out, and being shy. 

He settles soon enough, ends up just sticking his tongue out flat for you to grind against, using the grip in his curls to drag your pussy over his face. His scalp feels warm, sweat clinging to his hairline. He sighs endearingly against you, and it’s that final puff of warm air against your folds that has you coming, cum dripping over his lips and chin sinfully. 

When you finish, you quickly get off of him, lay down beside him. Jungkook is panting softly, tongue peeking out to taste the cum that splattered against the corner of his lips. “You were so good for me,” you praise, idly dragging your finger across his skin, collecting your cum on the tip. 

Jungkook looks at you with a heavy gaze, knotted wrists slowly returning to rest over his abdomen. “Can you… Can you call me that again?” he asks hesitantly, so shy and polite. 

“Hm?” you ask. “Angel?” His lips part, an awfully aroused look crossing his features. You smile, press your cum loaded finger against his lips and he opens, sucks around your finger and moans. “My pretty little angel,” you purr, slowly thrusting your finger in and out of his mouth. Before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning over to kiss him again, swallowing his cries in your desperate need to taste yourself on his tongue. Jungkook is more active this time around, daringly challenging your tongue with his before ultimately giving up, languidly following the pace you set for the kiss. You pull off with a pop, leave him dazed and trailing after your mouth cutely. 

You pat his cheek once, offer him a tender smile, before moving to get up and clean up. Jungkook whines at your departure, and it’s only once you’ve sat up that you realize why. 

Half hard cock at his hip, fattening slowly but surely. Instantly, it’s like the post-orgasm fatigue is yanked away, pussy throbbing at the sight of your angel and his cock, swelling from eating you out and kissing. He was too good to be true. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you sigh dramatically, shifting onto your knees at his hip to look at him. Something pokes your leg; it’s the stupid iPad playing his dorky YouTube videos that you click off and chuck to the other side of the bed. You had had enough of that by now. 

He’s not at full mast yet, and he’s not getting there quick enough for your liking. So you take matters into your own hands. (Besides, what was stopping you tonight? Certainly not this soft, pliant Jungkook.)

Kneeling between his legs, you reach for the forgotten bottle of lube, squirt a fat glob into your hands, then decide that isn’t enough and squirt it directly onto your chest. Jungkook watches with wide eyes, lower lip caught between his teeth. “What— What’re you doing?” he stammers, can’t even sit up with his hands held together. “__, y-you don’t have—“

Squeezing your breasts together, you slip his cock between the crevice, watch as his angry head comes out on the other side so easily, so slippery. Oh, this was gonna be post-work, shower-time, spank bank material for months. 

Jungkook sobs, loud and unfiltered at the sight, expression torn as he watches you slowly work your tightened breasts down his quickly hardening member. “T-Too much, too much,” he cries, squirming and bucking beneath you. “I-I’ll come—” 

“Don’t,” you snap, stilling your moments to flick your eyes back to him. His head is rolled back, jaw strained, but when he manages to lift it up and look down at you, there’s tears that streak his cute face, trails that glisten when the lowlight of the lamp hits him just right. “Don’t fucking come yet, Jungkook.”

He sniffles weakly, more tears spilling from his eyes. “But I— it feels,” he blubbers, knotted hands reaching down for the base of his cock. You slap it away. “___, please,” he wails, face flushed from all his conflicting emotions. 

Ignoring his cries, you get back to work, moving your upper body to and fro to simulate the thrusting motion he is too weak to do himself. He whimpers pitifully, more tears leaving his eyes when you lean down and spit on the head of his cock when it emerges next, make it join the rest of the ungodly fluids painting your chest. Honestly, you’re certain it’s that damned strawberry flavored, sensation warming, edible lube that makes this experience so enjoyable, so mind-blowing. 

Jungkook seems to agree, stuttering out a messy whine. “Feels weird,” he snivels, only to be cut off when you release him from in between your tits. Immediately, he begins lamenting the loss. 

Slowly, you ease him back in. You’re beginning to understand the intensity of that damned warming lube, because with each glide of his cock between your breasts, it’s like a tingle of nerves sparks within you, insides folding in on themselves as they channel all their energy to that one area of hastily spread lube. It feels so good and wet and messy, Jungkook’s whiny sniffles only fueling the experience. His cock twitches dangerously, and you flash him a glare. “Jungkook,” you warn. 

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, thrashing back and forth as if that makes it any easier. “I just— I want,” he chokes, hips bucking into the suction you’ve created between your boobs. Tentatively, you stick your tongue out, let his tip brush against it on the next thrust. Jungkook curses, a feral groan escaping his lips. “Wanna fuck,” he seethes, “now.”

It’s but a slight peek into his regular personality, his normal mannerisms. But something about it now annoys you. In fact, it pisses you off, seeing him be so complacent and sweet just to try and overthrow you at the last second. And it’s with this same train of thought that you release him, climb over him like a crazed sex demon, and press your hand to his throat. 

“You're supposed to be good,” you spit, scowl turned on him and it immediately has Jungkook drawing back with his tail tucked, falling into line as he should. “You’re supposed to be my angel tonight, remember?”

Jungkook nods, big round eyes looking at you like you’re insane, but the cock that presses against your ass tells you that he likes it. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, shrinking back into the mattress. Sticky hands around his throat, probably make him warm and tingly, but all you can think about is those pretty eyes. Sensing your wavering emotions, he takes advantage by tilting his chin forward for you cutely, pink lips trembling as he silently asks for a kiss. 

You release him.

“Stupid angel,” you huff, mouth against his. “Gonna make me mad if you don’t act right,” you remind him, pushing his sweaty curls away from his face. He whimpers against your mouth, let’s you play with his hair as you calm down. He’s a blushing mess beneath you, every inch of him flushed and warm and sweaty. 

You shift back and are met with his still rock hard member against your ass. You touch him appreciatively, reaching back to stroke him with a half-assed grip. It makes him moan nonetheless, pulling away from your lips to mewl against your shoulder. “Wanna fuck?” you hum, curling your hand over the tip like he likes, watching his head roll back against his pillow at the sensation. Jungkook groans, doesn’t seem to hear you now. You try again. “Wanna fuck my pussy, baby?”

“Yes,” he gasps this time, jolts when you press the tip of your finger against the slit on his head, plug his cock from releasing any more precum. “Please, please,” he begs, the hands on his chest straining against the shirt he still hasn’t managed to shake off. 

One last kiss is delivered to him, a chaste one against his pout that makes him whine. “Whatever you want,” you purr, line him up. 

Your hands are still sticky with the lube and so is his cock. Everything is sticky; his cock, you folds, your tits, his neck. It’s a big sticky, slippery mess, but you can’t even be annoyed because everything feels so good. Your tits tingle from whatever they put in that damn lube, nipples rock hard and extra swollen today, like if you don’t touch them you’ll die. You sink back into Jungkook’s throbbing cock, and the second his cock spreads the lube along your walls, you’re jolting because it just feels so damn good. 

You can’t believe this is Jungkook’s preferred sick day treatment; YouTube, cuddles, and an ugly amount of lube. 

His cock pushes past your folds, fits snugly inside of you just like it belongs. It still feels like the first time, feels like your first day where he was so perfect and sweet. Part of you wonders what would have become of you two if he had reacted like this that day, soft and whiny, when you first prepositioned him. Maybe the sexual aspect of your relationship would be entirely different today, maybe you’d be one the always leading. 

But… you’re not sure if you’d want that. Leading is fun— hell, you’re certain this moment will be what you get engraved on your tombstone —but you were a pillow princess at heart with occasional dominant tendencies. You drool over this moment now, but if he asks for this again tomorrow you might actually bend over and die. It was a lot of work, keeping the energy going, and you find yourself having this newfound sense of respect for Jungkook as his cock slips past your folds. 

Anyway, when you sit on his cock, fingers teasingly tightening around his throat, Jungkook’s eyes are weirdly focused on your tits. He’s been doing that a lot lately, losing his mind by just staring at your tits. On some occasions he puts them in his mouth, gets possessed by some titty loving monster and sucks on them until you’re trembling. It’s fine because it’s quite frankly a huge ego boost, but something him now makes you want to pick at him for it. 

“They’re yours to taste, angel,” you hum, slowly rolling your hips over his fat cock. Jungkook whimpers, softly ruts up into your heat the next time you press down. “Tell me what you want,” you exhale, a breathy moan. 

He doesn’t say anything, just drops his mouth open for you with a trembling lower lip. Tongue peeks out, eyes glazed over in his lust, looking every bit like those hentai ads he hates so much. But you fulfill his wishes, help him sit up until he’s flush against your chest. His awkwardly bound hands get squished in the middle, and he says, “m-my hands...” 

“I’ve got you,” you soothe, undo his self-made restraints and toss them to the side. Immediately, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you flush against him to latch his lips around your breasts. “S-Slow down,” you whine, hands on his biceps as he sucks your tit into his mouth, twirls his tongue around your nipple. He’s good with his tongue even when he’s sick. 

He pulls off with a pop, ragged breathing only making you more sensitive as it fans over the thin layer of saliva he leaves on your tits. “Tastes like strawberries,” he groans wondrously, head against your chest. You use the lull to get back to fucking yourself on him, but Jungkook’s got other plans. He rolls the two of you over, pins you beneath him with his hot and sweaty body. “I’m sorry,” he moans as he begins jackhammering his thrusts into you. 

Your back arches, legs thrown around his waist as the sudden change of events. “Fffuck,” you heave, “harder, angel— gotta fuck like you mean it.”

Jungkook shudders, hands looped around the small of your back. His cock rams into you over and over, each glide of it against the walls of your pussy making you unravel in his arms. His lips latch around your other boob, suck and suck like he’s expecting something to come out.

That’s when it hits you. 

“N-Nothing there,” you tell him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. His lashes are wet, eyes pinching tighter at your reminder. He pulls away almost to protest, but then you’re guiding him up to your face, hot breath mingling with yours. “Nothing there because you haven’t given me a baby yet,” you murmur darkly, watch the emotions flood his features as you tap into that taboo kink of his. 

He chokes, grinds his cock into you and holds it there. “I-I didn’t,” he sniffs, “we never— you never said,” he whines, “...you wanted one.”

You cup his face in his hands, feel slightly mean for the pride you get from his tear stricken appearance. “I do,” you purr, lazily kissing him. “Want one if it’s from you. Don’t you?” He nods like an antsy puppy, quivering against you as he slowly and shallowly ruts into you. “Don’t you wanna see me like that, angel?” you egg on, hands looping behind his neck, idly playing with stray waves and curls. “Tummy so big and swollen because you did something bad, because you couldn’t pull out.” 

Jungkook sobs, pulls you impossibly closer until the head of his cock is missing your cervix repeatedly. One of your legs is pressed nearly to your chest, hip tight from the force in which he holds you. “I-I want,” he agrees, more tears spilling down his cheeks. 

You smirk evilly, kissing the corner of his mouth gently as he slowly picks up the pace of his thrusts. “Then fuck me hard, Jungkookie,” you demand, “fuck me full of your cum.”

Jungkook nods with a sniffle against your shoulder, fingers tightening against your skin as he slowly but surely begins nailing you into the mattress. He’s a good boy, always, because he does exactly what you tell him to. Uses those bulky muscles to hold you down, makes it impossible for you to move as he pistons his hips, cock sheathing itself inside your cunt. 

Every drag makes you unconsciously clench, the raw feeling consuming your thoughts. His cock is so big and wet today, certainly due to that stupid lube from beneath his cabinet. Your entire pussy feels like it’s on ecstasy, stupidly geeked up by that lube, and you’re sure Jungkook’s cock feels the same. It makes the glide so much better, so much easier, each ram of his cock feeling so easy. “Oh, fuck,” you whimper, nails digging down his spine. Jungkook is a sobbing, sniffling mess against the crook of your neck, absolute gibberish falling from his lips. 

But you’re no better, tongue seemingly set on a chaotic rampage to validate every single one of his fantasies. “Gonna fuck me while I’m pregnant?” you pant against his ear, fingers tugging at his hair. He doesn’t offer more than a strained cry, thrusts momentarily falling out of rhythm. “You would like that, huh? Fucking me when you’re not supposed to. You’re so bad, Kook-ah,”  you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “Only pretend to be an angel but really you’re just a dirty, little pervert.” 

He wails loudly, slams his hips so hard into you that it makes you sob as well. “N-No,” he blubbers, tears against your skin. “I’m good— I’m a good boy,” he stresses, fingers bruising their prints into your skin. 

He presses so close, cock practically making your stomach bulge, but neither of you see. “Dirty angel,” you spit, yank his hair back roughly until he’s forced to look at you with that watery gaze. “So horny you’re willing to get me pregnant.”

Jungkook cries out, snaps his cock into you like he’s trying to break you in half. “No,” he heaves, tears dripping down his cheeks and onto yours. “I-I-I’d do it right,” he defends weakly, hips losing their demonic pace as his orgasm sneaks up on him. “Ma— Marry first… then, b— ba— bab—“

You swallow his words with your lips, kiss him like you’re on the verge of death in a desperate attempt to hide your tears from him. They paint your cheeks in stark strokes, trail down your skin and make everything blurry, but so does your orgasm. 

You come first, heart and body trembling at his unexpectedly sweet words, as you become a whimpering, teary mess beneath him. Jungkook follows, cries out your name one last time as he busts inside of you. 

Sticky and gross, he falls onto the pillow beside you. Poor baby is so tired, curls covering half of his face, but lips cutely puckered against the pillow. He’s sweaty as hell though, which you now vaguely remember was your original goal with all of this so you count this as a success. 

You think he’s fallen asleep, sitting up slowly and reaching for that t-shirt that bound him together earlier to clean up. He shudders when you run it against his skin, obviously still overwhelmed. You shift around the bed in search of today’s MVP. “Where’s the lube?” you mutter to yourself. 

Jungkook groans. “YouTube?” he asks, voice dry as all hell. 

“No, honey, the lube we used,” you respond, running your hands over the sheets for any signs of the pink bottle. 

“Want YouTube,” he mumbles, lets you swaddle him up in the blanket again. You roll your eyes and reach for the forgotten iPad that had long since tumbled to the floor. When it turns on, that same video from before is on pause so you don’t bother changing it as you hand it back to Jungkook. “Nice,” he murmurs, “underground water slide.”

You snort. “Weirdo.” He glares cutely, eyes barely open at this point. “Watch your YouTube.”

“Use your lube,” he sasses back softly, nonsensically, and then rather anticlimactically passes out. 

There’s something soft in your chest, something so big and overwhelming, that has you bending over his sleeping figure, mouth brushing against his. “Hurry and get better, angel,” you whisper, wish on it with all your heart. 

 To no one’s surprise, you get sick two days later. Doyeon laughs and laughs for hours about it, tells you that’s what you get for using sex as medicine. But Jungkook’s back to normal, which means he stays over and coddles you to death. 

“Hurry and get better,” he says, spoon feeding you your famous Get Better Soon Soup that you passed on to him. “I have a question to ask you.”

There’s a little black box in his downstairs bathroom cabinet that you swear you’ve never seen, but Jungkook knows you’re lying. 

It fits perfectly. 

epilogue

She scoffs. “And I care why?” You huff, go to scold her for their weird rivalry, but then she’s moving on. “Babe, just give him some pain relief and call it a day.”

“Fine,” you mumble. “Wait, can you look something else up for me?”

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[xcertaindarkthingsx]

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child.  one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.  

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck.  i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep.  You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.  

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?  

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no.  Not odd.  More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it.  It had been quiet and awkward the first few months.  He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt).  But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence.  It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.  

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up.  You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut.  How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.  

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad.  It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now.  He shook his head.

“Not yet.  I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease.  Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.  

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.  

You quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Complications?”  

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily.  “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back.  Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued.  “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information.  I came back for you and the kid first.  I know you guys must be hungry.”  

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you.  “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town.  It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale. ��You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.     

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender.  Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion.  On Mando’s end.  Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.  

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you.  “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air.  “Excuse me?”

“No.  Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.    

“Listen, Mando.  This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.”  The Weequay sighed.  “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man.  You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.  

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out.  You were non-negotiable.  

The bartender just shrugged.  “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in.  All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so.  He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.    

But Mando needed this, right?  You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you.  This was the least you could do for him.  You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty.  It was a lot of credits.  

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself.  “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.  

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room.  “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.  

The dress was too… everything.  Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.  

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure.  His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you.  It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.  

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous.  The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.  

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform.  As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse.  “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one.  One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you.  “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it.  Good?

You gave him an exasperated look.  “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid.  You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.  

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this.  And well, he tried.  The whole way back to the ship, in fact.  But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.  

The reality was, Mando wanted you.  He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception.  And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.  

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get.  He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him.  And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well.  The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.  

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.  

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile.  “Don’t worry, Mando.  Everything will be fine.”        

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.  

The night had started well enough.  After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.  

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside.  He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.  

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you.  You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.  

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze.  The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose.  Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.  

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him.  His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business.  The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention?  You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours.  Kriff, he had caught you staring.  So much for subtle.  Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.  

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering.  With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was.  An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche.  You wanted to smack him for being so close.  

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.  

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning.  You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.      

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street.  You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’    

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.  

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow.  Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall.  A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.  

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse.  Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted.  Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.  

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse.  He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me.  “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick.  That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made.  He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you.  As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor.  What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.  

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.  

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise.  That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.  

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg.  He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty.  He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times.  The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.  

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething.  You could have sworn his hands were shaking.      

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless.  The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl.  Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.  

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room.  The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long.  When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship.  You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.  

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.  

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.  

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels.  Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears.  He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.  

Worry bloomed in your chest.  The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it.  You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.  

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.  

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine.  You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped.  You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists.  The tremble in his hands.  Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.  

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me?  I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something.  I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine.  “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways.  Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red.  But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.  

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.”  He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.    

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly.  Wh-why did he care so much?  A lump had lodged itself into your throat.  “Mando, I—I’m fine.  Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure.  “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again.  You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work.  Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.  

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin.  Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.    

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel.  The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.  

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream.  You must have been freezing in that dress.    

Your head snapped up at him.  “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.  

You couldn’t believe this idiot.  

“Mando, seriously?”  Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.  

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him.  “I promise you I’m fine, thank you.  Really.”  You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one.  “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind.  His lips twitched under the helmet.  “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared.  “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache.  Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.  

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child.  A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel.  The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand.  Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.  

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit.  “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray.  I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.”  You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you.  You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work.  Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it.  “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged.  “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.”  You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.  

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound.  It could have been worse, but it was still very deep.  An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.  

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk.  “You got lucky.  Any higher and this would be a lot messier.”  You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching.  Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position.  You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use.  The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.  

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle.  “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake.  “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.          

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor.  It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered.  You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat.  “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft.  He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap.  You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh.  You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do.  And so, you went to work.  

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him.  “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg.  A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.  

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips.  His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.  

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself.  In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working.  The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle.  But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place.  Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up.  How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out.  “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.”  Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit.  The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.  

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand.  Regret began to bubble up inside him.  He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it.  Your next words caught him off guard.  

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did.  There was no question about it.  You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise.  He took a steadying breath before answering.  “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care.  “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up.  He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you.  Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face.  “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage.  “My name.  It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation.  He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate.  How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.  

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear.  His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable.  Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.  

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face.  “I like it.”

I do too, he thought.  Especially when you say it.  “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.”  For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile.  You were the first to break it.  

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”  

You shook your head.  “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed.  “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again.  “No, I… I would protect you every single time.  Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”  

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine.  Instead, you tried to change the subject.  “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person.  A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips.  “You need to teach more Mando’a.  Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him.  “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.    

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din.  You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now.  It was endearing.  The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch.  The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.  

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you.  Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.  

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.  

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping.  “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors.  You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest.  May as well be honest.  

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.  

Din tilted his head, trying to understand.  “Why?”

You scoffed.  “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”      

Din was dumbfounded.  Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache.  How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy?  That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself.  Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.  

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be.  I—you are absolutely stunning.  Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh.  The front of his pants tightened in reminder.  “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.”  He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames.  “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”    

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words.  It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now.  You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.    

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him.  Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.  It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body.  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.  

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone.  It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.  

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants.  Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath.  “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.  You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.  

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.  

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it.  “Use your words, cyar’ika.  I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din.  Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had.  The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.  

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle.  Desperate, but tender.  Rough, but passionate and loving.  The contrast was making your head spin.  

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped.  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you?  Make you mine?”  He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach.  He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.  

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that?  Just like this?”  You frantically bobbed your head.  “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek.  “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core.  If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now.  But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.    

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep.  He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut.  His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.  

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.  

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed.  Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them.  A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.  

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg.  He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh.  “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.  

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants.  The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.  

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck.  His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you.  “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard.  Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.  

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair.  He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high.  You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure.  It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.  

“Mesh’la,” he commanded.  “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.  

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself.  You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly.  He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.  

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body.  You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher.  “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name.  He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm.  A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.  

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.    

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow.  You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor.  “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear.  “Just like I said.” 

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.  

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs.  “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.  

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured.  You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission.  “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat.  He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.  

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you.  Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants.  You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.  

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room.  “We’ve got a problem.  I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel.  “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee.  You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing.  Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.  

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed.  “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing.  His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.  

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.  

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

[cyi-can-you-imagine]

The Second First Time (part 5)

“Hey, Sammy. Wake up baby, ok? Come on, it’s ok now. You’re safe. I’m here. I never left and I never will.”

Sam stirred and opened his eyes. He took in his surroundings and found himself in a hospital bed, Dean by his side. His face soft and smiling in that way that always made Sam calm. He’s inches away, and he’s gently petting his hair with one hand, and holding his own hand with the other.

His eyes are greener than he remembers.

“Dean? What’s going on?”

“That’s a loaded question, Sammy, I’m not sure if you’re ready for it yet.”

Sam closed his eyes and turned away.

“You’ve been gone for six months, Dean, I haven’t known anything about where you’ve been, and now I’m suddenly in the hospital as soon as you come home, and I don’t know what’s going on. I think I deserve answers.” Sam is clearly exhausted, has no strength in him. He turns back to Dean, and Dean sees the fear in his brother’s eyes.

“What’s happening, Dean?”

Dean’s face turns serious and he looks away for a second, trying to find the words.

“Sam, you had a stroke. You’ve been in the hospital for a few weeks now. I got a call today saying you were missing. You somehow woke up and walked out of the hospital without anyone seeing. You freaked us all out. Jody and the girls are worried sick.”

“I - what? A s-stroke? I had a stroke? But how -”

Dean looked back at Sam. “We were - we were uh, you know, being intimate, yeah? And I guess I uh, I got a little rough. You strained your neck - you twisted it rapidly at the same time it hit the headboard. It’s really fucking rare, but the doctor says sometimes, manipulation of the neck can cause a stroke. Basically a quick twisting or turning movement can cause a popping or clicking sound and…”

“I remember hearing a pop…”

Dean nodded and continued, the grip on his brother’s hand growing tighter. “The stroke itself occurs due to a condition called ‘cervical artery dissection’. So ummm - an artery in your neck tore. And I guess blood leaked into the wall of the torn blood vessel, and got too narrow, or blocked, or something. It cut off blood flow to your brain. And that caused - that caused your stroke. I uh, I caused it, I think.” Dean’s eyes crinkled the way they do when he gets sad.

Sam’s thoughts began racing. He shook his head. He began to panic. His heart monitor began beeping rapidly. “What? I don’t understand, a stroke? Am I ok? Am I going to die? I don’t understand Dean, I don’t - ”

Dean’s face returned to calm and he pulled both of Sam’s hands into his own, trying to calm his little brother. “You aren’t going to die, thank god. Now that you’re awake, doc says you just need rehabilitation. It’s gonna take some time. But you up and leaving like that - how you got up and out without anyone seeing you - we don’t know. You scared us all pretty bad, we had no idea where you were at. Thank god someone saw you wandering in the street. I knew exactly where you’d go. So fucking grateful you’re ok. And you’re safe now, it can’t happen again.”

Sam saw he was now secured to the bed, his right hand tethered down. His thoughts continued to rush at him, but the beeping slowed significantly.

“But - but I remember you leaving me. You said...you said...and you’ve been gone for 6 months Dean, I’ve been looking for you, I’ve been so desperate to get you back!”

But Dean shook his head sadly. “No, Sam. I've never let you, I promise. You’ve been in a coma.”

[dynananarmy]

REPUTATION|| Min Yoongi

Summary:

You were in the top. There was no person in the world who didn't know your name, either for your success or your reputation, believing that the only thing you should do is smile, be a good girl, don't force your opinions on people, and NOT for any reason deny the dating rumors. But then a gummy smile and a sweet accent came to change all your believe system, from a friends with benefits to falling in love, you encounter a new fear: would he love you despite your reputation

Pairings: Idol!Min Yoongi(SUGA) x singer!reader   

Warnings: distorted body image and unwarranted fear of gaining weight. Unhealthy habits like starvation, underage alcohol consuption. Mild smut and age gap (Yoongi is 25 and reader is 20) but everything is consensual). If i miss something please let me know.

Gorgeous

You should take it as a compliment That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk You should think about the consequence Of your magnetic field being a little too strong And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us He's in the club doing, I don't know what You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats Alone, unless you wanna come along, oh

Anxiety was a familiar feeling, a daily occurrence even before you knew how to call it. The constant fear of making the wrong move, not filling everybody's expectations. But it never gets easier, walking a red carpet was nerve wracking at 20 like it was when you were 13, but expectations were higher, every single album need it to be different, different  sound, different style, you need it to be more mature but not to sexy because then you were to provocative for kids who follow you, but not to demure because then you are a prim. And then, you were too fat, and then too skinny, or you would have the nice flat stomach that people expect but you didn't have the hourglass figure. So everything you stand in an outfit risky enough for you, you would shake like a leaf, praying that the apple and the water that you had eaten would not somehow make you look bloated. That you contour was blended, that the powder under your eyes would not flash in camera. 

You were about to promote your second single of your album, a song who was for a ex manager and ended up seeing as a call out for war for a singer whom you were friends but ended up splitting ways when she started dating an ex boyfriend, an ex boyfriend that you don't actually love but it was still awkward going out with the new girlfriend of your ex. Your team takes it as publicity, even if there was not an actual feud, good or bad, publicity is publicity, and so the music video only seems to spark even more fire. Still you invited all of your friends, friends that you met through other friends, in fashion shows or while performing in lingerie runways, the kind of friends that you partied with in your mansion in Coney Island or the one in Malibu. But that only sends a spark of worry, appearing in a music video with models with perfect bodies only makes you even more insecure about your own, and you were scared about what people would think about it.

A tug in your arm pulled you out of the dazed of the camera's flash and your thoughts, Calum King was a producer, a handsome embodiment of masculinity, a strong build body, a short beard, barely there but enough to let you know that he was a man. He was older than you by a lot, not enough to be scandalous but enough to raise a few eyebrows.

 He smile and you copied and hold his arm to the cameras, the lady assisting the red carpet gesture you to move and once you were out of the sight of the camera you let a shaky breath a pound in the head and the emptiness of your stomach make you feel dizzy and your publicist move quickly, holding a hard candy to you.

“Are you okay?” Calum asks, still holding you, you nod immediately and put the candy in your mouth.

“I´m good, the lights make me feel light headed but nothing that a little bit of sugar does´n fix” you say tasting the candy, feeling a little bit less tired, he nods but his sight was already far away from you. 

“Baby, i´m going to say hello to a few friends, I¨ll see you in our seats, okay?” He doesn't wait for an answer, his manager following behind, you let a sigh of relief, relieved that you don't have to keep pretending anymore, Calum and you met a few months ago while visiting a friend of your to the studio, a paparazzi saw you having coffee and after that you kept seeing each other, he would be your date in events and to the world, you were official, but you didn't even be intimate,barely hold hands while walking in the streets, or kiss each other more than a few pecks when winning a prize, but even that, it felt forced. Your publicist looks away from her phone to look at you and gives you an indifferent look.

“A new korean band is in here, apparently they are very famous and are contending against you for one of the awards, maybe you should go and see them so people see that you support new talents”

Curiosity sparks within you  “Korean band, is it BTS?” you asked, sipping your water you publicist arch an eyebrow

“Yes, did you know them?” she looks rarely interested, you nod reminiscing how  a few weeks ago you had stumbled on a fan edit of you and one of the members titled “1997 golden babies” seeing the dark haired boy dancing and performing with that much passion caught your attention, looking at his name and thus his group, fascinated enough that you had expend a few hour looking at the music videos and some of their performances, a bubble of excitement grew in your stomach making you feel energized again and you started to walk knowing your publicist was going to take you to them, skipping to some people you got to the corner where a group of at least 10 men stand, you immediately felt short and tiny and intimidated but you put your confident face and wait for your publicist to talk with one of the men, who yo assume was their manager, he look surprised and his gazed fall to you where you standing sandwiched between your bodyguards, he nod and went to say something to the remaining men 7 of them wipe their heads instantly to you and you smile, you make the remaining and they scatter in formation, pushing the taller men in front, he gives you a smile and flashed with a set of dimples.

“Hii, is so nice to meet you guys” You break the ice, you scanned every single one of them, from the tall broad shoulder one to Jungkook, the one of the edit and then your eyes fall to one of them, instantly draw for the way he looks at you, like he knew something your eyes goes back to the taller guy as he start to talk.

“It's so incredible to meet, we are big fans of your music” he says, you had heard that a lot but he sound genuine and the rest of the boy nodded, your eyes went back to the guy with the feline eyes and you see something that you had seen before but rarely from another artist, admiration, but also understanding, like he understanded something and he was fascinated by it. 

“Are you performing tonight?” you asked trying to shake the feeling that he was reading you like a book he understands the language. 

“Ummm, no, not tonight, hopefully someday”  he looked a little ashamed but that only made you feel more admiration for them, they are escalating little by little.

“Id watched some of your performance” a chorus of ¨whoas¨ breaks their silence and you smile wider “You would have made us look like kids beside you, you are truly amazing” you compliment, the words flooding with ease, all of them let a ¨thank you¨ and when you meet eyes with the feline eyed boy he gives you the most beautiful and shy gummy smile, something inside you felt warm and fuzzy and you enjoy it so much that you wish it never went away. Your publicist asked for a picture and you stand with them.

The flash was quick, you changed the pose and at the same time you felt a delicate brush of fingers in your back. Tingles run down your spine and your hair stands, how was it possible that a man could make you feel that way without talking, without knowing him? You didn't even know his name, or how he was, he could be an asshole. 

The camera stop flashing and the warm fingers leave your trembling body (you didn't know if it was of starvation or the adrenaline running through your veins) You look at him, the man with the gummy smile, cat-like eyes and the rose petal lips, he bow and you did the same as a reflex, that make him smile fully and the giddy, warm feeling bubble in your stomach all the way up your chest. You broke eye contact and with warm cheeks you went to hug the taller guy hugging all of them (not without almost melting in gummy smile boy, and breathing deeply his mainly citrus smell).

Your entrance was cut out by your manager, who led you backstage and you hope you bump into them, to talk to him, to hear him and let his fingers pay with your skin, but you were immediately trap in the changing room pulling other set of clothes and when you get out your publicist was waiting with a mint and a glass of ice you chew while letting the makeup artist  retouch your makeup.

You had already stood up 5 times to receive an award and Top Social Artist was the last nomination before going to change for your performance. Sitting on the front row with Calum on your side being the perfect supporting boyfriend and with Zendaya on the other side beside her a bunch of other models friends, big names in the industry who appeared in the music video that had already premiered a few awards ago. And although you should've be worried if you would win the category you were already seeing black spots, nausea and heavy eyelids accompanying, and sitting beside with the most beautiful, tallest, slimmest, women of the moment didn't make you feel better, you could barely hear anything but the sound of blood pumping through your ears but after hearing your name and the loud cheers of your fans a smile appear in your clammy face, you wonder if you could even stand to get  the award if you win, a louder cheer broke in the arena and looking to the screen you saw the south korean band announced and when it disappears it took a few seconds for the screams to stop, the announcers opened the envelope, two seconds of silence in the speakers and then...“BTS!” You jump clapping finding strength out of nowhere and with a smile you saw the band walk in front of your eyes with wide eyes, open mouth and smiles, a single hand sticking out for you and knowing who it was you brush his hand with yours. 

Then you turn back and with a bodyguard in front and another in your heels, you walk into the main stage of the arena. 

Everything was blurry, you followed the guard into the hallway and crouched to get in the elevator, holding the mic and letting your head go over the choreography. And when the voice in your in ear says “one”you feel the lift move and stand.You felt like you were going to faint, but still make your moves as smooth as possibly, it felt like forever but when you give the final move and look at the camera you give the most convincing smile ever. Wait for the count to end and the light to ade out to let your body fall to the ground. But the light did not fade, and the camera was still on you. 

The host appeared to your side to announce that your music had already broken a record and that you had won another 2 awards. You accept the award and let the host hug you and unintentionally your body stumbles, your eyes give a turn and feel almost lost conscious.“It's okay” you said to the man and pulled out with a smile, looking to the worried crowd,”It's okay” you repeat in the mic ” I very excited, to be here and to win this awards, thank you to everybody that make this possible, my fans, my family, my team, everybody that listen my music and the art i make, thank you so much, i love you” You said, making well rehearsed words leave your mouth, you leave following the lady with the awards, numb. 

The act seemed innocent and so quickly and random that nobody should have noted, but it set something, pieces clicking in place, for you felt illicit, scandalous, it ignited something that you have never let your body cave in, lust. A sin so impure that only thinking about it makes you flustered, but it only took a couple of glances, some brushes of skin and a hug for you to continue the seduction game he started. And you wanted him to win, to ditch all the circus and let him take you to the hotel, seeing him all in black contrasting with his soft creamy skin, a fallen angel.  

Wanting to feel something, did you deserve the awards? Your music had moved so much from your original goal that  you barely felt it was good. So you didn't feel proud, and you did not feel happy, or sad, or angry. You felt hungry, and tired.

 How dare he be so cool? With the glinting earrings and the necklaces and the deep voice and side smile, a dream, you never thought he was just your type. Was it possible for you to have him? A quick internet research let you know his name, his position on the group and his age, he was a little over five years older than you, younger than your “exes” but so much different, he felt real, a real man, but at the same time he was surreal, to perfect,  to gorgeous. And you wanted to know all about him.

You sit alone in the buffet of your hotel, with other people who also went to the awards, munching on a chicken salad with some delicious sauce and bread sticks and a glass of orange juice. Your orange juice, of course, was spiked with alcohol by your manager, a way to make you last giggly and awake for the rest of the night. Feeling already full with your second plate and with already a certain amount of alcohol in your system, you felt better, enough to keep looking at the table in front of you. Where 7 boy sit holding a camera laughing at one of them knocking the glass with the camera gummy smile boy who had, just like you, been looking at you smile with you and you hold the big stack of tissues at him, he walk to you and brushing fingers he take it from your hands “thanks” he said with a deep voice, one that you had already heard in his music videos but never compared to the real thing.

It took you 30 minutes to shower, dry your hair, put light makeup and a flowy black dress, that fall above your knees, do a quick google research of what to expect at losing your virginity and chugging the mini bottle of wine of your mini fridge, cleaning all of the clothes on the bed and quickly fix it. And when you thought that he wouldn't come a knock was heard. You look for the last time in the mirror and open the door.

 And he was there, his hair now completely straight  and soft looking and his face was bare, no necklace and simple cotton shirt and black cargo pants. Like he couldn't be more gorgeous.  Oh wait, he could, looking at you with the damn smile. “Hi” you said, already losing the game “Hi”, deep voice and cute accent, you can't help but giggle, boozing  alcohol in your veins.

“Please, please come in” You open the door all the way “ I´m y/n, by the way” you said and he looks at you, “I know, I´m Yoongi” he says laughing “I know” you respondHe lifted an eyebrow “you do?” he said with a smug smile, “of course i know, i'm not that  dump to hook up with a guy i don't even know the name of” you widen your eyes and blame the alcohol by your blunt remark, but feel relieved when he laughs. He let you lead the way to the living room and when he sits on the couch he notices the object on the coffee table, an unopened copy of BTS 'latest album you had.

They said goodbye and you broke contact, gulping the last of your orange juice and immediately got replaced, you looked back at your manager and publicist, talking to their manager, using the translator that look flustered, and you knew why, after yourself had talked with your manager about your request, voice confident but cheeks flushed, your manager didn't even had to approach BTS manager before he was already on his way, at that you felt a weird feeling, a territorial frown in your eyes, but you couldn't blame him. Every celebrity you have met has done this.  A simple deal, a way for celebrities to keep their affairs as private and publicly clean, both sides agreed to keep it quiet and not slip ups. When they finally look at you, turn again to him, his manager walking to him, and slipping a black plastic card. A key to the room to one of the suites. Your suite.

“I thought you could signed for me” you explained with a shy tone “I found it on the airport bookstore and since i kinda collect music album i thought it was a nice addition” 

He grabbed it “can i open it?”  he said with the cute accent, you nod excited and he carefully start to unwrap you sit by his side to get a better look, when he finished it, he looks at you

 “it has a photocard” he explains and you giggle again at the way he pronounce the last word, feeling the warm feeling in your stomach and he send your favorite smile at you.He opens the book and stop at the page with the card stuck to it “It's random so is a surprise, go, turn it around” he gesture to the book, you grab it and turn it around,

 “Oww” you let out a disappointed sound when you look at the man that clearly wasn't your Min Yoongi, he laughs and you pout “what can i do if i want one of you?” you ask with a distressed look. He dares to look flustered and he reach to his neck and the his hair, you wanted yours in its place, you licked your lips and look at lis face, “You could buy lots of album until mine come out” hmmm

“That's a good idea” his stare became intense and his eyes darken, his tongue brushed his bottom lip and someone must move forward because your lips replaced his tongue was now kissing his lips. 

Your fingers grab his shirt while his palms was cupping your cheeks, thumb brushing against it, the darkest desires in your mind, the need to be touch to be taken care of,taking his hand in yours you put it on your thigh, where your dress had lift and he complied to your silent request, pushing the fabric up and caressing your skin, but not where you need it him.

 You lean in the couch bringing him with you, but he pull from the kiss, leaving you gasping, “are you sure?” he ask, with his soft, dark eyes, lips swollen and flushed cheeks, you nod, but he shakes his head “are you sure?” he repeats, you think for a second looking at your giddy, boozy brain, “yes, i'm sure” you said with the most confident voice you could muster, he kiss you again and then its your turn to pull away from the kiss ”wait, wait, i,  i haven't, i never have i ever before, i mean, i never had done this before” you confess and he looks at you still panting, he nods, and ask again “are you sure?” and you are.

He didn't let you lay in the couch.

He let you run your fingers through his torso and take his shirt off.

You let him pull down the strips of your dress.

He let you know how much he desires you.

You let him touch for the first time against the wall, making you see stars and blow away in a climax.

He takes to the bed, carrying like you were a leaf.

You let him stole sweet moans out of your mouth

He takes it slowly, touching skin like you were fine china.

You feel like a confident woman when you whisper “you are so gorgeous, I can say anything to your face.”

He lets a deep chuckle and gives a deep thrust making you scream of pleasure.

A mix of sloppy kisses, discreet love bites, nails against skin and pasional hip thrust between the sheets you let yourself think for a second that is not a one time thing, that euphoric feeling you were experimenting and that it was the most happy you had been in years was going to finish the moment he finish panting against your neck.

You tried to not look disappointed when he stood up and walked to the bathroom, closing your eyes, letting yourself feel the remnants of your climax.

He came back a few minutes later, cleaning between your legs and leaving a soft kiss in your thigh before slipping your underwear in its place, holding you in his arms.

You cried for the first time in front of a person. 

He tells you that he knew you were hungry, he had felt it before. Not by his own choice.

You tell him about the empty feeling in your stage while on stage.

He kisses your face while rubbing circles in your back.

  When the morning sun came up you watched his sleeping figure, his back up and belly down, face facing you and his arm around you.

You mindlessly start writing invisible letters, your name. Wishing he could be more than a stranger.

He lets you a note. His number. Breakfast. And a single pink flower and a book from the souvenir store “ The meaning of flowers”

Azalea

 The azalea is the flower that ushers in springtime in the southern United States. That’s one reason it’s so closely associated with beauty and rebirth. 

These blooms are often given as a symbolic message to, “Take care of yourself,” which is an important sentiment to extend to the bereaved.

Little-Known fact:

 Azaleas are celebrated in festivals throughout the world, especially the U.S. and Asia. In Chinese culture, the azalea is known as the “thinking of home bush” and was immortalized in the poetry of a famous poet during the Tang dynasty.

HIIIIIIIIII

SO 

I FINISH THIS CHAPTER

It took years, but my mental health has been bad lately and also was hard to write the first meeting, if it look to rushed, dont worry its kinda the point, they are not in love but definetly know that they felt something. But they dont know each other,  i like to think of them as soulmates. 

We see how she was physically and mentaly hitting rock bottom and her team is not as innocent as it look.

If i was vague about everything, when the managers were talking, they were basically negociating the one night stand, that way the public wouldnt found out. A normal ocurrence in this AU.

Everything you feel courius about, please let me know.

Thank you so much for reading, i love you

[toppersjeep]

Drew Starkey X Reader:Distance

[Drew X Y/N]

[You are Chase Stokes sister you star in obx as John B’s long lost sister. You play a pogue who falls for the bad boy Rafe Cameron. You and Drew eventually began dating by the end of season 1. You’re relationship has been a secret for a while. Drew is currently in Siberia filming a movie and you decide to fly out and surprise him.]

“Mads this flight is going to be so long” I said on the phone with my best friend and my brothers amazing girlfriend. “I know but he seems sad and stressed he needs you so much” Mads said. “I’ve missed him like crazy” I said she smiled.

“He’s been so sad with all the fans finding him everywhere he loves them he’s just overwhelmed” Mads said. “Yeah I know we called last night and I could tell” I said. “Seeing you will definitely help him so much” Chase said appearing on our FaceTime. “Chase hey” I said. “We can’t wait to see you” Chase said.

“Well guys my flights ready I’ll text you when I land” I said with a smile. “Alright see you wifey I miss you already” Mads said blowing a kiss to the camera. “Bye mads” I said hanging up.

*Four hours later*

“She’s here” Chase said I ran over and hugged them. “Good I’m so glad you came I missed you” Mads said. “So where is my sweet Drew” I said. “In his hotel room and I managed to steal his extra key” Chase said handing it to me. I smiled and took it.

We then headed to the hotel. They gave me his room number. I managed to somehow sneak in. He was laying on the bed looking at his phone. Drew was about to call me by the looks of it. He sat up and pressed the FaceTime button.

“Please pick up I need you” Drew said looking at the phone. I walked behind him. He could see me in the screen. I then covered his eyes. “So did you happen to order a package from Los Angles” I said. “Depends is it my super beautiful girl” Drew said. “Possibly” I said.

He moved my hands and turned around and hugged me tightly. He was on top of me still hugging me.

“Hey baby” Drew said kissing all over my face I laughed. “Two months is too long without you” I said kissing him. “God I know I’ve missed you so much I’m glad you are here” Drew said. “I love you” I said he bent down and kissed me.

“And I love you” Drew said. “I think we both needed this” I said he smiled and played with my hair. “Oh definitely I’m glad to see my girl” Drew said. “Good I missed you” I said. “Ooo baby you should meet my cast mates” Drew said. “I’d love too” I said.

Later…

We left the hotel holding hands. Fans were outside waiting. They probably didn’t expect to see me. But they were excited when they did.

“Please let’s tell them” I whispered to Drew. “Alright” Drew said we walked over. “Y/N she’s so pretty in person” a young girl said. “She’s absolutely gorgeous” Drew added.

“Are you visiting Chase” a young boy asked. “Ummm yes and Drew too” I said taking a picture with him. “Wait are you guys dating” they asked. “Yes she’s my girlfriend” Drew said. “Awwee yay we’ve shipped you since season 1” someone said.

We took more pictures and walked away as happy as could be. Now that people knew we finally felt free and happy. It was great to share our beautiful relationship with the world.

[camslightstories]

Tolerate it - Part 4

Notes: Here is the part everyone waited for. I have been receiving so much love from you guys, and I don't know how to thank you. You guys are completely utterly amazing, and I cant wait to give you guys more of this story. I think i can write part 5 in a day, idk, but I will try my best for you guys. 

Thank you so much for your love, it means the world to me. I receive any type of feedback, comments or request, I posted a prompt list so you guys can have a little idea for your request but if it is your own then I have no problem writing it.

Thank you again for reading, I hope you like it.

Lena Luthor x reader, Kara Danvers x reader, Alex Danvers x reader. Baby Danvers.

24 hours before

The raindrops overwhelmed the streets of National City. The overwhelming sound of the rain falling was heard all around the city. The way the cold breeze moved the trees. The light of the posts illuminating the city during the cold and rainy night.

You were happily cleaning the decoration table, as you hummed to the melody that has been in your head the whole day. JJ, your boss came walking laughing when she saw your mood. “Why is my favorite pastry chef so happy may I ask” 

“First of all, I'm your only chef, and well like you know I finally cracked it. The lemon pie cake recipe, Lena loves so much. It was a success boss I made four cakes and they are all gone, third I got Lena's favorite flowers and favorite pastry, fourth I don't know, I think that is it” You stopped cleaning before showing her the flowers you had gotten earlier that day, and then the other box with the cake while smiling widely.

The blonde looked at you before sighing, you had worked with her for 5 years now, and she had seen you in the past with Barry and now Lena. She cared about you in her own way, you were her principal chef and somehow you became her friend. The blonde said as she closed the register walking to get her things.“Never change, Danvers.”.

You nodded and kept cleaning and organizing your workspace. Lena never leaves your mind, you knew you had to talk to your sisters and your girlfriend soon because it had been two weeks since the school decided to fire you since they found a better fitting music teacher.

The fact that you worked your ass off in the school, so the children could have the best of you, wasn't enough for them, and it hurt you. What other things have you done, are doing, or will do that are not going to be enough?

Like the time you worked on a project for 6 months straight, not taking care of yourself, working in three jobs, going out of line to make sure the movie sample was perfect. Trying to achieve your dreams, only for the executive director to call you one morning to tell you, they had found some else, someone better. 

It scared you to think about the fact that Lena may find someone else, you knew she deserved everything she wanted and needed it, she deserves someone who was smart, stable, powerful, someone strong who can give her anything, someone without trust or abandonment issues, someone perfect for her, and you had a long way to be that person for her. 

But every time she had seen your insecurities, she had come and reassured you every single thing, she had made your insecurities go away. She had made you feel worthy and perfect for her. But your insecurities had always been a part of you and somehow Lena worked in every step of the way with you.

Your boos whistle pulling out of your thoughts, before making you look up as she threw the store keys for you to close before she concluded “You are way too deep kid”

You murmured as you looked at the raindrops. “How could I not? she is my everything”

The rain covered you completely as you rode your bicycle, the coat on your basket covering the pastries boxes and the flowers. The way your cold shirt cling to you, and your socks getting wetter every time you passed through a puddle. Your soaked hair taking over parts of your face, as you felt the cold breeze hit your face, your breathing became stronger when you started to feel the freezing temperature.

Before entering the lobby of the large building, you tried to get rid of the extra water from your clothing, but it seems impossible. Grabbing the things you entered and smiled when you felt the warm temperature. You watched the clock and noticed the time it was 8:35 PM, meaning it took you over 10minutes to get there. 

Mr. Simmons, the doorkeeper of the penthouse chuckled at you, you were too stubborn to take a taxi or let Lena’s driver, Mr. Smith, to drive you even when it is dangerous outside, you had always preferred to ride your bike. 

After Jeremiah, your dad died, and you felt your world crashing down, you didn't want help. You kept quiet about your feelings, trying to comfort your loved ones, every time you felt you need space to open up alone, you rode your bicycle to the beach and sat for hours thinking, and crying. After a time your bike was the only way you went to places alone, it was the way you remember it was okay to be alone and to be hurting as long as the ones you love are okay and happy.

“Ms. Danvers, good evening,” The man said as he called the elevator for you.

You rolled your eyes at your name, before speaking “Good evening Simmons, we have talked about this call me Y/N, we have known each other for 3 years” 

The old man responded as he chuckled, maintaining the elevator open for you.“Yes miss-...Y/N, I hope you don't get sick”

You mention as you walked inside, giving him boxes with various types of cheesecakes smiling.“I hope so too, Simmons. Here this is for you ” 

“Thank you Y/N, have a great night,” The man said waving at you.

You yelled when the door began to close, the old man nodded and smiled at you. “You are welcome! good night and say hi to your family for me”

Each floor of the building was elegant, classy, and minimalist. The soft LED lights on the top and bottom corners of the corridors, the way the blue and gray color made pop up the white vintage doors. 

You took the key chain out of your pocket, putting the security code in, waiting for the green light meaning you could put the key card in. The keychain was simple, it had the keycard and a polaroid photo of you and Lena, the day you moved in. Lena was laughing at something and you were looking at her as if she had brought down the moon for you. 

You entered with difficulty at the apartment trying to not let anything fall as you spoke before you stopped completely when you saw your girlfriend in one of the bar stools drinking wine.“Baby, I'm home! Sorry it took me a while but it was raining and I tried my best on the bicycle, nut that is not important, what is important in that I have something for you, you are not going to believe me when I tell you that after 3 years of dating you and knowing your favorite cake, I cracked the recipe- ”

You didn't even think about anything else, you immediately turned to her side, putting all of the things on the kitchen aisle, as you asked worriedly while checking her for any types of injuries.“Lee? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen? Do you want me to take you to the hospital? Do you want anything?-”

“I need to tell you something” Your girlfriend interrupted with a tone, you swear you have never heard from her. It was cold but at the same time vulnerable. She glances at the wine glass, not looking at you.

Pain and worries flashed through your eyes when you felt the sudden change of attitude. You felt the wall she had put between you guys when you entered the apartment, no greeting, kiss, or hug. It felt like you were nobody. That morning everything was perfect. Why is this happening now? Why the sudden change?.

You started to say before stopping, taking her in. She was not okay and she needs you now. It didn't matter if you would wake up tomorrow sick, what matter was that Lena was okay.“Lee do you mind if i- you know what that doesn't matter, you are first.”

You quickly went to one of the bar stools and sat down facing Lena. You went to grab her hands, and she quickly put them away from you. There was the moment you knew the hurt in your eyes could be seen by everyone.

You cleared your throat, shaking away the tears that were overwhelming your eyes before speaking, as carefully and softly as possible.“What's up? What did you want to tell me, Lena?”

“Kara told me she loves me” After a few seconds of silence, she took another sip of her glass before admitting.

Your stomach drops. Your throat was caught. You stopped breathing. You felt the world fall down on you. You saw how every piece of the future you had imagined left in the late nights. You knew what was going to happen, just because you studied film doesn't mean you can't solve a simple riddle. You knew the other shoe was going to drop.

You whispered incoherently, still not being able to think or speak “Ohh- i...I didn't- Ummm”

When Lena cleared her throat and her glance and yours connected waiting for an answer. You whispered softly not figuring out what to say “I didn't know”

The silence overwhelmed you. You felt your chest tighten. Your sense of cold and wet clothes in yourself became uncomfortable. The smell of the wine made you nauseous. The way you felt your mouth to go dry. Your eyes blinked away the tears, but the hurt in them couldn't go away. Your hands closing tingly almost cutting blood with your nails. You knew you had lost her, but did you lose her if you never really had her.

“Can you say something?” Lena said with anxiety in her voice, you could see her walls slowly coming down. 

You pulled away from her glance, painfully looking around the apartment not wanting for her to see the pain in your eyes. As your eyes ranked around the apartment memories of the two of you came running through your head as you responded quietly, pained and hesitant of the answer ”Do you...?”

You went, you heard her sigh again, you knew everything was over. You closed your eyes hoping it was all a nightmare, that this wasn't happening, that Lena loved you, and that she wanted to be with you, not someone else, someone better.“Somehow, deep down I felt the same, and that came crashing down”

When the words finally fell out of her lips, all you felt was pain and emptiness. There wasn't anything else but it. You knew you had lost everything, your light, your heart, your world. Right there you had empathized with Kara’s feelings after leaving Krypton. 

You kept your eyes closed, putting yourself together knowing that if you did or said the wrong thing, Kara and Lena would not be happy. And how selfish of you could be, to make two of your favorite people in the world to hurt. You wouldn't do that, to anyone less to your sister and the love of your life.

You knew Kara was better for her, Kara had a stable job, a great personality, a status that can be compared to Lena’s, She had superpowers, she is Supergirl, She was out of this world literally. For Rao’s sake how could she not want her instead of you, she was perfect.

You who was only a 24-year-old woman. You who studied film school but weren't good enough to get a job in your field. You who played soccer and basketball in high school but weren't good enough to make it to college. You who could barely survive in National City with two jobs. You who the school fired because you weren't a good enough music teacher. You who worked at a bakery as the pastry chef. You with trust and abandonment issues. You who had some much baggage because of your past relationships. You who were scared of the dark as a grown woman. You with self-esteem issues.You who were broken. 

You wouldn't be good enough for anything and less Lena Luthor, the good Luthor, a genius, the CEO of one of the most important companies in the world. How could you ever be enough for her?

You took a deep breath before opening your eyes, to see the two eyes you felt more in love with every day staring at you, waiting for your reaction. Lena had thought she was subtle but you saw the fear in her eyes, as tears overwhelmed them. There was the border, you would never want Lena to cry, or Lena to be other than happy and okay. 

You whispered as you slowly got up from the stool putting it back, taking her in, one last time. The weight of the world in your shoulders as you did. “Okay” 

Your eyes examined her hair, as you remember how many times you had comfortably run your hand through her hair after a long day. You saw her nose and remembered how many times you had softly leaned in, sharing an Eskimo kiss. You looked at her eyebrows as you remembered every time she had raised them, when you did something childish funny, before laughing with you. Her cheeks made you remember every time you would make her laugh as the dimples came out. Her lips remained you of every kiss, every time she would ground you with only one breath when you were panicking.

“You know, you two deserve the whole universe, and I know Kara will give it to you, as you will do with her. I know she will give you everything I couldn't, and that she is the better option. I mean we are talking about Kara, she is perfect. What isn't it to love?”Lena was perfect for you, but you knew you had to let go, for her and Kara to be happy. You concluded before walking to the door not bothering to take any of your belongings.

Lena watched you as you walked away in silence, her glance burning in the back of your neck. It was a second before grabbing the doorknob, with tears threatening to come out and a hitched breath you spoke with a sad smile.“You deserved all the happiness in the world, I will come for my things tomorrow morning, I wish you the very best Miss. Luthor”

The moment you closed the door, the world came down on you. Everything was gone. You didn't know what was going to happen to you, you knew you wouldn't go to Alex and any less Kara. You couldn't blame your sister, it was Lena you were talking about. She was perfect, she was the person you fell in love with after 3 months of dating. And you couldn't blame Lena for not wanting Kara. She was royalty, she was perfect, she was the sun, and you were not.

You just knew you had to be okay...for them.

[scabopolis]

Ummm because my brain could never come up with something as genius as yours, I will ask—nay, BEG—for more LoVe Vampire AU from Day 1 AU week.

Title: do not engage (part two of this little ficlet) Rating: PG-13 (some swears…because girl is still stressed) Pairing: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars, Additional Tags: Secret identity, vaguely vampire hunter related things, filed under: relationship obstacles, sharing of bagels, vampire Logan is probably far too schmoopy, tried to write angst but whooops I think it's fluff? Word Count: 1,800

For you, dear, @ayy-ohh? Anything. This one really got me stuck because...like...world building? What is that? And would vampires eat bagels? And why DOES Logan have a cell in his basement? So many questions. Anyway! Here it is! *** That she can’t remember ever seeing Logan Echolls in the daylight should have been Veronica’s first clue.

It’s just, given the nocturnal demands of her profession and thus her morning grumpiness, it was easy to miss. Easy to be grateful for. Easy to be relieved that Logan wasn’t like her college boyfriend—the kind of guy who insisted they wake up at 6:00 AM to go running and felt a day spent inside with the shades drawn was a day wasted.

There were, of course, other clues she missed.

Weirdly cryptic statements and obfuscations. (Given she was also prone to said crypticism, she didn’t press for fear he’d do the same.) His reticence towards beach days. (It seemed logical! Who doesn’t hate dodging tourists?) The weird way he’d linger at doorways of unfamiliar houses. (Again, given her own antipathy to socializing, his hesitation was something she understood.)

In retrospect, given that not pressing Logan on his vague answers landed her here—in a weird cell gnawing at the ropes her ex-boyfriend tied tightly around her wrists—she supposes she should have tried harder. She hears Logan’s footsteps on the stairs into the basement but doesn’t stop her attempt to undo the knots.

“I hope you have a good dental plan,” Logan says. She rolls her eyes and continues to work at the strands with her teeth. “Is there even a vampire hunter’s union? Might be something worth looking into. Though, given the general mistrust the position requires, electing a president might prove tricky.”

“God, staking you would have at least gotten you to shut up.”

“But then there’s the crushing guilt.”

“I would have managed.”

Do not engage. In the 36-ish hours she’s been in this cell, that’s been her motto. The secret to coping with the fact that your boyfriend is a vampire and that you and your dad are vampire hunters is to remain detached and cold.

Except it hasn’t been easy. Because her wrists hurt, she smells bad, and oh yeah, apparently she’s not as out of love with the bloodthirsty monster wearing the hell out of a henley and holding a bag of takeout as she thought.

“I got bagels,” he says.

As soon as he says it, the scent of cinnamon raisin wafts from the bag. He doesn’t wait for her to stand; simply slips the paper bag containing her bagel through the bars and slides it to her. Much like he’s done for their previous shared meals, he sits on the ground a safe distance from her and settles into eating his own.

She tears the paper bag and sees that not only has Logan brought her a bagel, he’s also brought her some sort of sandwich and a chocolate chip cookie. God. What an asshole.

What is his endgame here? If he wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now. It’s only a matter of time until her dad begins to question whatever story Logan texted him from her phone. Her dad will show up and he will have questions. What will Logan say then?

“What will I say to who?” Logan asks.

Shit. Detachment is also easier when inside thoughts remain inside thoughts. “No one.”

“If you’re talking about your dad, he’s out of town for the rest of the week.”

She concentrates on the pattern of the cinnamon swirl laced throughout her breakfast. “What do you mean?”

“According to the text he sent you last night, he had to go to Vegas. Vampire gambling ring of some sort?”

“You’re lying.”

“Takes a liar to know a liar.”

Veronica rolls her eyes and takes a large bite of her bagel, surveying the interior of her holding cell. And yes, fine, she technically has a policy of not engaging with the pointy fanged one, but she has questions.

“What is the point of having a cell in your basement? Is it for weird sex stuff? Or weird vampire stuff?”

“Who says those two things are mutually exclusive?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spare me, please. I’m eating.”

“I’ll tell you but you won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“My friend, Mac?” He extends his legs out in front of him. “Once a month, this is her guest suite.”

Veronica frowns. “For weird sex stuff?”

He raises an eyebrow in amusement which, fair, she should probably stop using the phrase weird sex stuff.

Wait. Is he saying—?

“Logan,” she says carefully, “is Mac a werewolf?” He nods, and Veronica’s bagel drops to the floor. “Could you be more of a vampiric cliche? Honestly! Does a zombie do your taxes? Does a ghoul trim your hedges?”

“I trim my own hedges, thank you very much.”

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, or it might be the remaining vestiges of adrenaline leaving her body, but Veronica laughs. Just a little bit. At best it’s a chuckle. Still, it’s enough to make Logan smile in that way he sometimes does—like he can��t believe his luck that he even gets to be in the same room as Veronica. It makes something feel heavy and uncomfortable in the pit of her stomach. Do not engage.

“You really didn’t know?” she asks.

Logan’s answer with a slow nod. “I didn’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“It wasn’t an ambush, Veronica.” He pinches off a small piece of his bagel. (Sourdough, she guesses. Probably with jalapeno cream cheese because the man added jalapenos to everything.) She watches as Logan rolls the bread between his fingers. “The date was real but one of Dick’s friends recognized you somehow.”

“You were the one who threw me into a tree.”

“Yeah, and as far as they know, you’re dead. As far as they know, I was so enraged a vampire hunter tricked me that I took you home to finish you off.”

“Which means if you let me go—”

“They’ll know I lied.” He shrugs. “Either they kill me or your dad does. This way you’re safe.”

“Logan—”

“Sorry,” he says. “You called dibs on the killing?”

“Poor little vamp with a death wish.” She doesn’t mean for it to sound so fond. What is wrong with her?

The corner of his mouth twitches with a fleeting smile. There’s a ticking clock on their time together and now they both know it.

“I’ve never seen a vampire eat as much food as you,” she says.

He sets his bagel aside. “Dine with a lot of vampires?”

“Enough to know you eating that bagel is like me eating a bag of sour gummies.”

“Meaning?”

“You might like the taste of a lightly toasted sesame bagel, but an hour later you need to puncture the carotid artery of a single mother to really satisfy yourself.”

“You know sesame seeds get caught in my teeth. And single mothers come with too much guilt.”

“Hedge fund managers?”

“Now you’re talking.”

Veronica has questions, of course she does. More questions than she can properly express—wonders how old he is, who turned him, who gets him blood and how, why he’s friends with Dick Casablancas, if Logan is safe with Dick as a friend—but she doesn’t ask any of those. Because he asks the most important question first.

“What are we going to do, Veronica?”

She stands up, brushes cinnamon raisin crumbs off of her pants. (She catches a whiff of her unshowered self and cringes. So much for their farewell existing as a perfectly preserved memory in the mind of her undead ex-boyfriend.) “There’s no we, Logan. There can’t be.”

He can’t let her go, he can’t keep her locked up, and she can’t stay.

Logan pushes himself up off the ground and comes to meet her at the bars to the cell. “Yeah.”

“First, you’re going to let me out of here.” She wraps her hands around the bars. Logan does just like she’d hoped and does the same, his pinkies barely grazing her knuckles. “And then I never want to see you ever again.”

“That’s what you want?”

God. What a fucking idiot. Of course that isn’t what she wants. What she wants is to go back two days. To return to that night when Logan made pancakes for dinner, and they got drunk on rum and cokes, and then he kissed down her spine as they lay in bed.

She nods anyway. Presses her head against the bars.

“Fine.” Veronica squeezes her eyes shut. “If you ever need anything?” She nods again and she feels the gentle touch of Logan’s lips to her forehead. How is he always so warm? It never made sense.

“I won’t.”

And then, much to her surprise, he walks away. Without letting her out.

She opens her eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Oh,” he says, a portrait of portrait insouciance once more. “You didn’t expect me to let you go now did you? What if this show of emotion is a long con? I could wake up to find you standing over my body poised to pull back my black out shades.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Nighty night, Veronica.”

Logan doesn’t return to the basement and eventually she falls into a fitful sleep, waking up sometime before the sun rises. She definitely needs to pee and she’s so sick of the ‘toilet’ in her cell. Logan should still be awake. Maybe if she yells really—

Finishing that thought proves to be unnecessary because as soon as Veronica’s eyes adjust to the dim light, she notices the door to her cell is ajar. She’s barely thinking as she jumps from the bed and races up the stairs.

“Logan!” she calls out.

Her first stop is the kitchen, where she maneuvers a knife in between the strands of the ropes around her wrists and works to free herself. Her cell phone is waiting for her on the wireless charger Logan keeps in the kitchen. No messages from her dad, but she sends one to check in. She rubs at the tender skin on her wrists as she searches each room of Logan’s house.

As far as she can tell, there isn’t much missing. Some of his toiletries are gone (her toothbrush is still beside the sink) and she thinks maybe some of his clothes too. His motorcycle is still in the garage but the BMW is gone.

So. That’s it? He’s just gone? What about his house? There’s a housing crisis in southern California and this asshole thinks it’s acceptable to simply abandon a perfectly good home? He didn’t even leave a note.

It’s really the irresponsibility that—

Her call rings through to his voicemail. Rolls her eyes at the Dylan Thomas quote that greets her. That’s new.

“If you think I’m watering your plants for you while you’re gone, you are completely delusional.”

He responds while she’s in the shower. (What? She’s really supposed to put up with shitty water pressure at her place when he has a rain shower and heated bathroom tiles?)

Miss me already?

She responds with a garlic emoji.

[thr-333]

Mismatch- Part 3

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Ah Irony, I trust this wont be the last I’m seeing of you

First < Previous > Next

----

‘Sorry, Nino told Adrien that you guys said to go ahead!?’ Chloe explained.

“Looks like Liela’s at it again,” Marion tells Marinette.

“Of course she is,” Marinette was already hailing a cab

‘Lila must have told Alya who told Nino or something’ Marion responds.

'I am so sorry we’ll come back to get you’  

‘Dont worry bout it we’re getting a cab’

‘Dont let kags kill anyone’ He adds

‘No promises’

Marinette grabs Marion by the arm, dragging him over to a cab. Just as she's about to climb in someone grabs her, arm pulling her away. Reflexes kick in and she makes a jab at their stomach. They block her punch, but let go of her arm. Marinette looks up to see a black haired blue eyed boy who couldn't be any older than them.

“This isn’t a real cab,” He explains quickly, taking his phone out to snap a picture of the stunned driver.

“Oh? Oh!” Marinette processes, realising she just tried to punch him for helping her, “I am so sorry!”

“It’s ok, good reflexes,” He compliments, they step away from the cab as it speeds away, “I’m Tim,”

“Marinette,” She shakes his offered hand, “This is Marion,”

“Hi, thanks for that,” Marion nods towards where the ‘taxi’ was, “How could you tell?”

“You live around here long enough you learn to spot them,” Tim answers, “are you two french?”

“Yep,” Marinette chirped, “We’re on a class trip,”

“Where’s your class?” Tim frowns looking around.

“Ummm… they kinda….” Marinette looked down at her shoes.

“Left us,” Marion finishes for her.

“They left you? In Gotham?” Tim asks, the twins nod avoiding eye contact.

“Where are you staying? I’ll drive you there,” Tim decides.

“You don’t have to do that!” Marinette gestures wildly, wide eyed.

“We’ll be fine on our own,” Marion adds, because yes they did almost get in a fake cab, but it wasn't as if they couldn't have dealt with it.

“It’s all right,” Tim tells them, scanning the cars around, “Look my rides here,”

The twins turn to see a limo pull up, a well dressed driver steps out of the vehicle.

“Good Evening Master Tim, how was your trip?” He asks, taking Tim’s bag.

“It was fine Alfred,” Tim says, “would you mind if we dropped these two off at their hotel?”

“Not at all, Master Tim, I am Alfred Pennyworth,” Alfred greets the twins, “May I ask your names,”

“Uh, Marion, and this is Marinette,” Marion replies, “You really don’t have to, we’ll be fine,”

“It’s no trouble at all,” He tells them, “Where are you staying?”

“Wayne hotel,” Marinette goes to grab her bags to find them gone, turning to see Alfred already placing it in the trunk.

“Witchcraft,” Marion whispers to her, Marinette nods. She always made sure to at least be touching her backpack, as it held the Miracle box.

“Come in,” Tim offers, already sitting in the Limo.

The twins concede climbing in after Tim a little awkwardly. He had somehow gotten ahold of a travel cup and was holding it like a lifeline.

“I’m surprised you're staying at the Wayne hotel for a class trip,” Tim takes a gulp of the probably scalding hot coffee.

“Marinette submitted an amazing essay to the Wayne Foundation and won the trip for the whole class,” Marion dodges her kick, Tim hides his smirk behind his cup.

"We submitted an essay,” Marinette corrects, glaring at Marion for shaking his head.

“Thank you for the ride,” Marion changes the topic.

“No problem, I really don’t mind, the longer I stay away from the manor the better,” Tim replies sleepily.

“Why's that?” Marinette questions, concern written all over her face.

“Loud, too many siblings” Tim quickly clarified, “I need more time with my coffee before I deal with them,”

“I think I can relate,” Marion mutters, ignoring Marinette's look, “How many siblings do you have?”

“Officially? Thr-Two brothers,”

“Unofficially?” Marinette prods.

“Feels like half of Gotham most the time,” Tim sighs, making them chuckle.

“You two must be twins?” Tim guesses.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette sighs.

“You love me,” Marion scoffs.

“Unfortunately,” Marinette repeats, Tim cracks a smile.

“If it's any consolation you seem to get on much better than I do with my siblings,” Tim takes another long sip from his coffee.

“If it’s any consolation we’re always fighting,” Marion parrots, sharing a knowing glance with Marinette. Fighting? Yes. Fighting each other? Only when Chat Noir gets brainwashed.

“So what are you looking forward to in Gotham?” Tim asks.

“Lots of things,” Marinette and Marion start to tell Tim all about their(civilian) plans. Tim suggests places every now and then, he points out the hotel as they start to get closer.

“Ah!” Marinette exclaims, turning to Marion, “We were meant to check in as a class, will they even let us in?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they do,” Tim assures them. When they pull up at the hotel Alfred opens the door and Tim gets out with them.

“Thank you so much,” Marinette takes her bags from Alfred, giving him a smile.

“You’re welcome Miss,” Alfred smiles back.

Marion also gives his thanks and they follow Tim into the building. Marinette admires the architecture, brainstorming ideas for designs. Perhaps she can make improvements to the outfits they’ll be using at the concert. Tim goes straight to the front desk and explains the situation. The receptionists hands over the room keys, telling them their classmates had already grouped up, three to a room.

“That was surprisingly easy,” Marion muses, as they walk towards the elevator, “Thank you,”

“My pleasure,” Tim answers easily, as they step into the elevator, “I must be off,”

They give their goodbyes, letting the doors close as Tim walks away.

“He was nice,” Marinette hums in agreement.

“Hopefully there's more people in Gotham like him,” They step out of the elevator.

“There will be,” Marion assures, “Meet back here when they go to sleep?”

“No, I’ll text you when everyones asleep and you can teleport in,” Marion nods, both know Kaalki won’t be impressed.

They go their separate ways. Marinette knocked on the room door that was opened a few moments later by Kagami.

“I am sorry,” Kagami immediately apologizes, “I should have known better and asked you myself,”

“Don’t worry, we’re fine,” Marinette gives the girl a hug, rolling her suitcase into the room.

“Marinette, you need to see this place, although it’s as good as daddys hotel,” Chloe grabs her by the arm. Leading her through the well furnished and decorated living room with a kitchenette to the side.

“You do live in the penthouse suite,” Marinette looked out the floor to ceiling window, displaying the view of the city, itching to grab her sketchbook.

“True, but they didn’t put me in the penthouse, so it's their loss,” Chloe guides her to a room with a large bed, bedside tables with flowers on them and a mirrored closet door. “This is yours,”

Marinette went to grab her suitcase only to see Kagami behind them with it. She thanked her and got settled in. Once she was unpacked they sat together in the living room to talk about tomorrow.

“You’d better not go wandering off, Gotham is dangerous,” Chloe wagged her finger at Marinette.

“And you’re going to protect me?” Marinette threw a couch cushion at her.

“Well, duh, I was Queen Bee,” Chloe bragged, catching the cushion and throwing it right back.

“For, like, month, years ago,” Marinette caught the pillow, sending it to Kagami, “Weren’t you replaced with Bumble Bee?”

“It was a mutual decision,” Chloe caught the pillow that Kagami hesitantly threw to her.

“Right,” Marinette said in a disbelieving tone, knowing full well that Bumble Bee was just Chloe’s new alias. “I think I’d rather stick with Kagami,”

“Rude,” Chloe threw the pillow at her.

“Didn’t we all agree Kagami was as good as any bodyguard?” Marinette asks, throwing the pillow to said girl.

“Excuse you, we said she was better than any bodyguard,” Both gave her inquisitive looks, “What? I’m just stating facts!”

“Of course,” Marinette caught the pillow, still smiling.

“I am!”

“I believe you,” Marinette threw the pillow back at her.

“No you don’t!” Chloe throws the pillow forcefully at her.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Marinette chucks the pillow to Kagami.

“You’re infuriating Dupain-cheng,” Chloe huffs, catching the pillow from Kagami.

“I can show you some… moves,” Kagami hesitantly speaks up, as Chloe throws the pillow at Marinette, “For self defence,”

“Sure,” Marinette puts the pillow down, standing up with Kagami.

They spent the next half hour with Kagami instructing Marinette on basic fencing moves. With the cardboard wrapping of the now empty Toblerone block.

“Where is she going to get a sword?” Chloe was scrolling through her phone, “Unless you want her to carry that around everywhere,”

“What do you suggest?” Kagami challenges defensively.

“Like this,” Chloe takes over, showing both Marinette and Kagami how to break out of certain holds to get their arm free or how to disarm an opponent.

“Where did you learn this?” Marinette watches as Kagami practices the motions of disarming Chloe's hairbrush gun.

“I told you, I was Queen Bee and I took that job seriously,” Chloe drops the hairbrush, Kagami kicking it away.

“Didn’t you tell all of Paris your identity and then send a train out of control,” Kagami asks, retrieving the hairbrush.

“I was young and naive,” Chloe sighs dramatically, had to her forehead.

“Three years ago?” Marinette stands up to try and disarm Chloe now.

“Four actually,”

“Oh, my mistake,” Marinette rolls her eyes trying not to disarm Chloe too quickly.

They carry on a little longer before Marinette sends them to bed.

“We have an early day tomorrow, we don’t want to be late,” She pushes Chloe towards her room.

“Coming from you? That’s rich,” Chloe laughs.

“Whatever, go to sleep,” Marinette closes the door on Chloe's protests.

“Goodnight Marinette,” Kagami nods, walking to her room without a fuss.

Marinette goes to her room, firing Marion a text.

“Alright dude,” Nino turns to Marion, “I’m with Alya, we all know who Adrien has a crush on-”

“Everyone!?” Adrien sits up from where he’s lying on the couch.

“Yes, everyone,” Nino deadpans.

“What about Marinette?” Adrien turns pleading eyes to Marion.

“Oh not Marinette, she's as clueless as you,”

“What’s that meant to mean?” Adrien frowns defensively.

“Anyway,” Nino interrupts, “Dude, who do you have a crush on?”

“Ummmm,” Marion shifts uncomfortably from where he’s perched on the couches arm rest, “... It’s sort of a celebrity crush,”

“Oh? who?” apparently that was not the answer that would make him lose interest.

“It’s not really important, not like anything could happen,” Marion looks at Adrien for help, but he seems just as curious as Nino.

“Just tell us,” Nino pushes.

“It’s a hero,” Marion immediately realises that just got them more interested. “... From Gotham,”

“Batman?” Adrien guesses.

“No!” Marion shouts, “No! He’s old enough to be my dad, geez,”

“Alright, alright, who is it?” Nino placates leaning forward on his arm chair.

“..... Red hood,”

“Isn’t he a rouge?” Adrien asks.

“No!.... Maybe, he’s still a hero ok?” Marion curls up defensively.

“Why do you like him?” Adrien is grinning, shifting closer to Marion.

“I don’t know,” Marion rolls off the armrest, onto the couch next to him.

“You have to like something,” Nino gets up to sit on his other side.

“I don’t know, maybe because he looks good in his suit?!” Marion shouts.

“You’re not that shallow,” Adrien pokes him in the stomach.

“Ugh, fine,” Marion relents, “He works with Batman right?”

They both nod.

“He’s just so unlike everyone else he works with, I just kinda…. admire how he can just be…. be himself.” Marion curls up under his friend's stares.

“You’ve put a lot of thought into this,” Adrien teases, Marion huffs.

“He does look good in his suit though,”

“Wait a minute, is this why you always wear that MDC outfit?” Nino is clearly holding back laughter.

“No!” Marion bushes at the memory.

They were doing a practice interview about his newest song. Marinette had designed his outfit based on Red Hood's. It was something he had endured endless teasing over as he insisted everything had to be perfect, not that the great MDC would make anything less.

“Were there any problems that arose from the design MDC?” The interview asked, moving onto the outfit choice.

“We had some minor disagreements about the hood,” Marinette gestured to the outfit Marion was wearing. A red hoodie underneath a faux leather jacket(not that you could tell) on the back there were flying red bats embroidered up the side. He was wearing a black domino mask with red detailing in place of the helmet. It was the outfit they chose to alter into their vigilante costumes.

“She was getting very frustrated over it,” Marion teased, “I told her it didn’t need one,”

“His name is Red Hood! Why doesn't he wear a Hood? Robin wears a hood,”

“He looks cool without it,” Marion defended.

“You’re just saying that, cause you have a crush on him,” Marinette teased in a sing-song voice.

“MD!” He shouted, pulling the hood up to hide his blush, MDC laughing at him, he groaned. “Please tell me the cameras aren't rolling,”

“Don’t worry, nothing we say is being recorded,” The interviewer was luckily professional enough to not laugh, but was certainly amused, “I take it we will be omitting that from the real interview?”

“Yes!”

Unfortunately for him one of the staff members had been secretly recording. They leaked the footage online, getting fired, but not sparing MCD from the whole world finding out. The fanbase had been going crazy ever since they announced their concert in Gotham. Many imagining meet-cute moments or theorising that they were already dating. He shakes his head at the memory.

“I just think it looks cool,” He comes back to the present.

“Because it’s based on your crush?” Adrien teases.

“Nope, you don’t get to tease me about this, I haven't seen you not wearing something Marinette made you in years,” Marion cuts Adrien off with a raised eyebrow, looking down at his Ladybug onesie Marinette made him.

“Fine,” Adrien turns to Nino, “It’s up to you now,”

“Has Marinette made you anything Red Hood related?” Nino grins.

“Nooooo,” Marion moans, draping over the couch.

“Do you have a onesie based on him as well?” Marion finds his saving grace when his pocket buzzes.

“Stooooooooop,”

“Never this is too good,” Nino teases, “Did you bring it with you?”

“That's enough for tonight!” Marion claps his hands, standing up.

“Awwwww,” They both moan in unison.

“Nope! I don’t have to put myself through this, goodnight to you,” Marion walks straight to his room before they can protest further.

He locks the door behind him. Plagg and Kaalki are in the room chatting, they fly over to Marion.

“You ready to go Kaalki?”

“I am not meant to be used for something as trivial as a taxi,” The Kwami complains.

“We just need to grab out suits, this will be the only night, I promise,” The Kwami gives him a nod, “Kaalki full gallop,”

He transforms and opens a portal into Marinette's room.

“Ready Bug?” He asks, stepping into the room. He opens another portal to their room in Paris.

“Of course,” They step through the portal, followed by their Kwami’s, into their room as quietly as possible.

Marion drops his Marinette pulls out their costumes from the closet. They were disguised to look like regular clothing, but could be altered to quickly change.

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Marinette takes the hoodie he usually wears, reaching under a secret fold and unzips the hood.

“Come on bug, our hero-selves cant be seen in Gotham, and you know full well we wouldn't stand aside if someone was getting hurt in front of us,” Marion takes the body of the hoodie from her, flipping it inside out to the black side.

“True, but why do we have to do nightly patrols?” Marinette finishes pulling on her leggings, flipping her usual white jumper with a cherry blossom pattern inside out to the same red shade as the hood.

“It would look pretty suspicious if we just showed up when our class was in danger, now wouldn’t it,” Marion fasten the yellow belt around his waist, slipping his baton into the holster and pulls on his on his boots, hopping slightly.

“I think you just want to be a vigilante,” Marinette takes his Red Hood jacket, flipping it inside out to black with yellow trim.

“Well, it’s exciting isn’t it?” Marion takes what would usually be Mainette's skirt, flipping the pink inside out to the green and unzipping it along a black line, “We get to test out our skills without miraculous, and we don't have the fate of the city resting on our shoulders,”

“You could a least try to take it seriously,” Marinette flips her beanie inside out to the black side. Pulling it on after the severed hood, lining the holes up with her eyes and pulling the hood up.

“I am taking this very seriously,” Marion says with the biggest grin. Taking Marinette's infinity scarf, running his hands across it to find the secret fold. Flipping it inside out to a green with yellow and black trim. He pulls it over his head, yellow stripe to his hairline.

“Whatever," Marinette fastens her holster with a baton around her left leg. They both pull on their black gloves. "Lets go,”

Marion transforms back and opens a portal to a rooftop far away from the hotel. They take off across the roofs, using their batons to pole vault across alleys, to land on roofs and fire escapes. As they race, taunting each other, they survey the streets below. Marinette stops, crouching down as Marion catches up. A young woman was being chased by two thugs.

“Let’s go,” She whispers, using the fire escape as a firemans pole. Marion follows suit.

They land in the alley as the girl gets backed up against a wall, clutching her purse. She looks straight at them, Marion gestures her to stay quiet as they sneak up behind the thugs. Marinette takes the one on the right, as he lines up behind the left one. Marinette attacks first hitting the right one over the head with her baton.

“What the-” Marion cuts the left one off by sweeping his legs with his baton, sending him crashing to the ground. He pins them down, tying his wrist together with one hand, “You little fuc-”

Marion stuffs the mans own hat in his mouth. He then ties the crooks legs together for good measure. He looks over to Marinette, her thug unconscious, she was comforting the victim, offering her a cookie from a hidden pocket.

“Thank you,” She takes the cookie hesitantly.

“Not a problem,” Marinette gives her a winning smile.

“Wow, this is really good,” She mumbles, with her mouth full, “Um, who are you,”

“Don't worry about that,” Marion slings his arm around Marinette, "We're just your friendly neighbourhood strays,"

“Ignore him,” Marinette pushes his arm off her, “Do you want us to walk you home?”

“Uh- yeah, thanks,”

“I love your outfit by the way,” Marinette tells her, as they leave the alley way. Marion walks behind calling the police to come pick up the thugs, explaining what happened.

“Hey, can I get your number so the police can get your statement later?” Marion interrupts, as they follow the girl to her apartment.

“Of course,” He hands over the phone, letting her hang up.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” She hands back the phone, Marion walking on her other side.

“We’re new to town,” Marion smiles at her.

“I can tell,” They both give her inquisitive looks, “You’ve smiled more in the last five minutes than most Gothamites do their whole lives,”

“You’re exaggerating,” Marinette chuckles.

“I’m serious, you’re going to blind someone,” She laughs with them.

They walk her to her apartment, holding polite conversation the whole way.

“This is it,” She announces, “Thanks again,”

“No problem,” They both say, turning to leave.

“Wait…. Um,” They both stop looking back at her holding her phone, “Can I get a picture?”

“Of course,” Marion bounces over to her, Marinette taking the other side.

They give the same big smiles they do as Ladybug and Chat Noir. Marion throwing up bunny ears behind Marinette's head. They say goodbye and run off to find someone else to help.

“Whatcha doing Tim?” Dick looks over his shoulder, still in his Nightwing costume fresh from patrol.

“I ran into some French students who were left behind by their class at the airport,” Tim scrolls through a word document, complete with pictures of smiling teens doing a mixture of charity work and sports among other activities. “They won the Martha Wayne educational trip, I was just looking through their entry,”

“They got left behind, in Gotham?”

“That’s what I said! I actually caught them just before they got in a faux taxi,” Tim reaches the end of the rather long essay.

“They could have been mugged, or kidnapped!” Dick slams his hands down on the desk.

“I know , Dick,” Tim rubs his face, “The worst part is they didn’t seem at all surprised about it either,”

Dick leaves Tim to his work to change, muttering to himself.

“Is everything alright, Master Dick?” Alfred appears with food for after patrol.

“What if it happens again?” Dick asks.

“I assume you’re referring to the lovely twins Master Tim met at the airport?” Alfred nods knowingly, Dick nods back. “Well hopefully something similar doesn't happen tomorrow for their tour of Wayne Tower,”

“.... Alfred can you place me in charge of the tour?”

“Consider it done, Master Dick,” Alfred leaves him to get changed.

He finishes changing into regular clothes as the Batmobile pulls in. Batman and Robin exiting.

“We need to discuss security measures for the upcoming concert,” Batman tells the room, they gather around,

“MCD is known for his advocacy of superheroes, so we can expect a few villains to make trouble,” Tim pulls up a picture of MCD with MDC as they walk down the red carpet for some event.

Dick is amused that the picture he pulled up had them in Batman and Robin themed outfits. MDC wearing a beautiful black dress with the bat symbol subtly incorporated into the bodice. Her dress trailed behind in sharp points like Batman’s cape. MCD was wearing a suit with a red shirt, his tie green and some yellow detailing.

“You are going to be professional aren't you?” Damian gives them both pointed looks.

“Whatever are you talking about?” Dick asks innocently.

“You two are always jabbering on about these two,” Robin glares.

“We do not-oh that reminds me, if we’re going to be guarding this event we have to invite Jason,” Dick addresses Bruce.

“He is worse than you two, going on about that interview,” Damian must be rolling his eyes under the domino mask.

“Come on little D. how often does your celebrity crush like you back?” Dick smiles, remembering the night Jason called him yelling in excitement telling him about the leaked footage. He had also asked him to get Tim to find out who leaked the footage and have them fired.

“I don’t know and I don’t care,”

“As for actual security measures,” Batman redirects the conversation.

“Master Jason has arrived,” Alfred reports, coming to stand with them.

“Speak of the devil,” Tim mutters.

“BRUCE YOU MOTHERFUCKER,”Jason bursts into the bat cave, “I need to know these things!”

“We were just talking about the concert,” Dick tells him.

“What? No! Why didn’t you tell me you adopted more!” He yells at Bruce. “I need to know when you’re planning to traumatise more kids!”

“Jason what are you talking about,” Bruce only lets a hint of irritation into his voice.

“THis,” Jason slams down his phone to a screenshot of a tweet. It showed a picture of a boy and girl, both with black hair and blue eyes, following Tim into a limo. Written underneath was;

Wayne Twins? How long has Bruce Wayne been keeping them from Gotham? Are they adopted? Or could the Family resemblance be more than coincidence?

#wayne twins #Bruce Wayne's secret children #aren’t they just adorable

“What is this?” Bruce asks Tim.

“They’re the one who won the Martha Wayne educational trip, their class left them at the airport, I gave them a ride,” Tim briefly explained, noticeably omitting the taxi part.

“Wait so you didn’t adopt them?” Jason picks his phone back up.

“No, Jason, I didn’t,” Jason’s eyes narrow.

“... Are you going to?”

“... No, I’m not,”

“Keep an eye out,” Jason not at all subtly whispers to Dick, “He hesitated,”

“What are we going to do?” Damian cuts their growing argument off.

“We could release a statement?” Tim suggests.

“Drawing attention to it will only fuel the flames, let’s just let it die out,” Bruce decides, getting nods of agreement.

“By the way Jason, we were talking about security measures for the MCD concert,” Dick changes the topic.

“Without me!?”

They go back to making security plans for the concert, including Jason.

“I think we should have someone inside,” Jason looks over the blueprint of the venue.

“Of course you do,” Damian remarks snidely

“You little-”

“Bruce!” Superman's face pops up on the main computer, “You can’t just take in new kids without warning!”

“They aren’t my children,” Bruce clenches his fists, “The pictures with Tim are taken out of context,”

“What? I’m talking about the new Robins-,”

“THE NEW WHAT!” Jason and Damian shout at the same time.

“What are you talking about?” Bruce probably asking that question more times today than he would like.

“Uh, this,” A picture is sent through a screenshot of another tweet that was steadily becoming viral.

The picture had two teens in masks on either side of a civilian, giving the biggest smiles that had probably ever grace Gotham. The boy giving the girl bunny ears. Underneath was written:

Almost got mugged tonight and was saved by these two. Didn't tell me their names. They kinda look like Robin right? Also they gave me a cookie? It was actually good too.

#new Robins #Robin #Batfam #OMG their smile are pure sunshine #send help I might be blind

[lbigreyhound13]

No More Secrets

By @lbigreyhound13 for @peer-parker

Rating: K+

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Happy Hogan

Characters: Peter, Tony, Happy

Summary: He was just about to leave when…he heard a car approaching the wreckage…followed by many cars. It was definitely the cops and Tony’s clean-up crew coming to investigate, and then…he quickly realized that he was out in the open without his mask and an enemy who quickly figured out who he was. He needed to get out of there. He tested his old web-shooters to see if there was anything left…but he was all out. He mentally kicked himself for not having enough to get out of there, and he couldn’t let anyone see him…let anyone figure out that Spider-Man was Peter Parker. There was no telling what would happen, especially if Tony found out. That made me more nervous at the idea of his beloved mentor finding out that he was Spider-Man.

OR

After Peter manages to defeat the Vulture, he is about to leave, but can't when his web-shooters ran low on web fluid. What happens when Happy comes onto the scene...completely unaware that Peter, Tony's intern is actually Spider-Man?

AO3 LINK HERE

Prompt: AU where Peter is Tony's intern and doesn't know he is Spider-Man. Tony and Peter have a father-son bond as mentor and mentee, whereas Spider-Man and Iron Man fight side by side. Main plot point I'm looking for in the fic-- the (perhaps angsty) reveal of secret identity

Peter breathed heavily as he walked through the wreckage, and his ears were ringing. Pain coursed through his body as he limped and carried Adrien Toomes, the Vulture, away from the wreckage…after his wings exploded. The fire crackled around them from the wreckage of Tony’s plane, and the smoke burned his nostrils. The heat was close to unbearable, but that was the least of his concerns. All he could focus on was the fact that his Homecoming date’s father was the Vulture, a weapons smuggler and that he had just attempted to steal his mentor and…father-figure, Tony Stark’s plane that contained the Avengers’ advanced weapons to smuggle them to terrorists. Thankfully, he managed to stop the Vulture from doing just that and save his life from his malfunctioning suit, but…unfortunately, it resulted in Tony’s plane crashing on the beach of Coney Island.

As relieved as he was that he was able to save Liz’s dad from certain death, he felt horrible knowing that he destroyed his mentor’s plane, and there was no doubt that the weapons were damaged and maybe even destroyed as well. Tony was already angry with Spider-Man for not following direct orders to stay away from anything regarding the Vulture and endangering people’s lives on the Staten Island Ferry. It’s what led him to take away Spider-Man’s suit to begin with…leaving Peter with no choice but to use his original homemade suit to take down Toomes.

Peter mentally cringed as he thought back to that last conversation Tony had with Spider-Man…while having absolutely no clue that the webslinger was actually his intern, Peter Parker.

“This is where you zip it, alright? The adult is talking!”

“And I wanted you to be better. Okay, it’s not working out. I’m gonna need the suit back.”

“For how long?”

“Forever.”

The teen quickly shook the memory away from his mind as he placed Toomes on the sand once he was sure they were away from the fire, only to plop down on the sand right next to him on his back. They both coughed and hacked from the smoke inhalation and from the intense battle. Peter felt his body ache from the crash…and from the punches Toomes had no problem giving him after they crashed. However, he refused to let the pain get to him. There would be time to take care of his injuries later. Right now, he needed to make sure Toomes wouldn’t try to get away, so he slowly stood up and turned around so that he was facing the weapons smuggler seeing him look up at him clearly wondering what was going to happen next.

Peter would never do that though. He wouldn’t even consider it. He knew what it was like to lose a parent. He lost his parents when he was little, and then he lost his uncle Ben just last year…about a month or so before he got accepted as an Intern in Stark Industries. He could never handle Liz going through the same thing. Yes, her father would be going to jail, but he would be alive.

No words were spoken as he bent down to pick up Toomes and slung him over his shoulder again taking him away from the wreckage and bound him so that he couldn’t get away. Surely, a plane flying through the sky and taking a nosedive would be noticeable and prompt someone to call 911, which meant that the cops would be there at any moment. He used his web-shooters to bound Toomes to a piece of debris, and then after some searching, he managed to find a paper and pen to write a note.

“FOUND FLYING VULTURE GUY. SPIDER-MAN. P.S. SORRY ABOUT YOUR PLANE.”

He then taped the note next to Toomes still not saying a word to his enemy.

“I hope you realize what you just did, Pedro,” Toomes said after a moment.

“If you’re referring to how I just saved your life, yeah, I do,” Peter replied. “I don’t want Liz to have to go through what I went through.” He took a deep breath. “Goodbye, Mr. Toomes.”

He was just about to leave when…he heard a car approaching the wreckage…followed by many cars. It was definitely the cops and Tony’s clean-up crew coming to investigate, and then…he quickly realized that he was out in the open without his mask and an enemy who quickly figured out who he was. He needed to get out of there. He tested his old web-shooters to see if there was anything left…but he was all out. He mentally kicked himself for not having enough to get out of there, and he couldn’t let anyone see him…let anyone figure out that Spider-Man was Peter Parker. There was no telling what would happen, especially if Tony found out. That made me more nervous at the idea of his beloved mentor finding out that he was Spider-Man.

Without wasting any more time, Peter quickly put on his hood attempting to hide his face and ran away from Toomes as the flashlights drew closer. If he could just hide behind some debris or something and sneak away, that would be enough.

(line break)

This was the last thing Happy expected to happen on this night. All he was instructed to do was make sure the last of the cargo was packed onto his boss’s plane so that it could be transferred to upstate, where Rhodey would be waiting to unpack the plane with Vision. However, as soon as he saw the Stark Plane falling out of the sky toward Coney Island, he immediately knew that that was not going to happen. After a quick phone call to Tony, the billionaire immediately ordered him to go investigate what happened and to call the clean-up crew, so that Ross didn’t try to use this against the Avengers in case the Rogues or the Vulture was involved.

It wasn’t the Rogues involved, but it was the Vulture…the weapons smuggler that Spider-Man warned Tony about…the very same one Spider-Man had been trying to catch even though Tony instructed him not to. Now that Happy thought about it, he hadn’t seen or heard from the webslinger since the ferry incident…when Tony took the suit away from the guy. Happy just wouldn’t put past him to somehow surprise everyone and make a comeback by catching the Vulture, and as soon as he saw the Vulture without his helmet concealing his face…and the note. He didn’t even need to see who it was from. Spider-Man actually did it. He captured the Vulture…without the fancy suit Tony made for him.

No words were exchanged with Toomes as Happy looked around trying to find any sign of Spider-Man watching from above, but for some reason…he looked down…only to see footprints in the sand…

Happy wasted no time in following them hoping to find the webslinger knowing for sure Tony would want to thank him for saving the cargo. He followed the footprints…all the way to a piece of debris still a few feet away from the wreckage, and he saw Spider-Man in his old suit…facing away from him and crouching down on the sand.

“S-Spider-Man?” Happy asked taking a step toward him.

The hero jumped but didn’t turn around. “Oh…uhhh…hey, Happy,” he said clearly trying to lower his voice. Although he wasn’t sure why. Happy and Tony obviously didn’t know Spider-Man’s secret identity, but they suspected that he was on the young side. “Uhh…I-I got the Vulture guy…ummm…I-I’m sorry about the plane though. I didn’t mean for that to happen, so please don’t be upset. I didn’t mean to cause more trouble for Mr. Stark.”

“Hey, hey, relax, man,” Happy said chuckling. “It’s okay. I think the boss will be more upset with me than with you after what happened. He’s going to owe you big time.”

“Oh no, he-he doesn’t have to pay me or anything,” Spider-Man replied. “I…I just wanted to help, that’s all.”

Happy nodded, but then…something didn’t sit right with him. Tony didn’t mention anything about Spider-Man coming onto the scene…or that he called the webslinger to begin with. Not only that, but…Spider-Man was here before they were, which meant he must’ve had something to do with the plane crashing…especially if he was missing his mask.

“Uhhh…I should…I should get going…” Spider-Man said as he stood up making sure that no one could see his face. “It-It’s…getting late…”

“Well, wait, hang on,” Happy said taking a step toward him. “How…how did you know about the plane to begin with? You were here before us…and you look pretty banged up from where I’m standing.” He noted that Spider-Man seemed to have a limp.

“You told me,” Spider-Man suddenly said.

“What?” Happy asked with confusion. “N-No, I didn’t. I only talked to Tony, Pepper, and…” he stopped…as he realized that there was a third person he spoke to about the plane…just a few days ago…

“What are you up to today, Happy?”

“Not too much…helping the guys move all the cargo to the plane today while you and the boss play Science in the lab.”

“What cargo?”

“Oh, just some Avengers tech that the boss wants to move to the Compound.”

“Is…is Mr. Stark moving?”

Happy chuckled. “Nah, kid, he’s just moving it up to the Compound. I think it’s just his way of dealing with everything that happened, and he figured it was best to have it in one place. He wouldn’t just drop you like a hot potato. He cares too much about you.”

“Yeah, I care about him too.”

“I know, kid…”

“…Peter…” Happy finished as the cold realization washed over him. There was no way. It was impossible, but then again...was it? They had the same voice, the same height...

“Oh...did I say you? I-I’m sorry, I-I meant Peter...Peter told me,” Spider-Man said quickly and obviously realizing his mistake.

However, he made an even bigger mistake. “Last time I checked...” he said slowly, “Tony said that Peter isn’t on good terms with Spider-Man. He’s tried to get you two to meet, but he never did.” Happy furrowed his eyebrows together as he took a step closer. “Come to think of it, it...is kind of weird that Peter Parker and Spider-Man...both of whom work for Tony Stark...are never in the same room together.”

“It’s not weird,” Spider-Man said quickly. “We just never saw each other. That’s all. Don’t make anything of it.”

“Spider-Man…come on,” Happy said. “Just turn around.”

“I can’t,” the hero replied.

The forehead of security took a deep breath. He was praying that he was wrong, but at the same time, he knew that he was probably right...as to who Spider-Man was.

“Peter...” Happy finally said after a moment.

This seemed to make him stop.

“Peter, please turn around,” Happy said again.

“I can’t,” Peter said, “and I’m not Peter.”

The hero still didn’t leave or attempt at the very least, and the forehead of security wondered if maybe he was deciding whether or not to reveal himself. Happy didn’t say anything as he stared at Spider-Man’s back silently begging him to just turn around and face him. His heart began to pound in his chest as he waited for Spider-Man to make his move. Then…he heard Spider-Man sigh in defeat, and without much warning, he slowly began to turn around while keeping his hood up.

Despite Happy making the connection, seeing the face of his boss’s personal intern…the one he had been getting so close to over the past few year or so…in Spider-Man’s old suit…looking battered and dirty from a battle…made him want to vomit right then and there. His eyes widened as he let out a shaky breath as he looked at…Peter.

“Aw, kid…” he finally said.

“Happy…uhh…I…I…didn’t…I mean…” Peter tried to say. However, he was clearly at a loss for words himself.

The forehead of security looked only to see the police and clean-up crew inching closer to them. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to notice that Spider-Man was without a mask, and he was realizing that Tony’s kid was now relying on him to do something, he quickly put his flashlight down and shrugged off his jacket.

“W-What are you doing?” Peter asked.

“I don’t know about you, kid,” Happy said as he took his jacket and placed It over Peter’s head to help conceal his face., “but I don’t think we need to have Spider-Man identity blasted on.the news. “Just stick with me. I’ll take you to the tower, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter replied meekly.

Happy wasted no time in putting his arm around Peter pulling him close to his side and guiding him through the wrecked plane to his car. “We just got to get past these guys,” he said, “and then we’re home free.”

Peter could only nod as Happy began walking them both to the car. He could only see out of a small crack in the opening of the jacket, but thankfully nobody else could see his face. That was a huge relief as Happy told the cops and the clean-up crew that he found Spider-Man and that he was going to escort him to get him some help. A couple of people offered to help, but Happy thankfully insisted that he was okay and didn’t let anyone come near them.

After a few minutes, Peter felt himself being maneuvered into a car, and as he found himself being guided into the seat, he kept the jacket over his face. Happy wasted no time in closing the car door before jumping into the driver’s seat and driving off back toward Stark Tower. Thankfully, it was late at night, so there was no traffic. The drive would be quick.

“Okay, kid, we’re far enough,” Happy said after a few minutes. “You can take the jacket off now.”

Peter slowly but surely removed the jacket from his head and took it off allowing Happy to see his face in the rearview mirror, and it was at that moment that his heart dropped. His identity was just revealed…to Happy Hogan, of all people, his mentor’s best friend and head of security, and he was now taking him to the tower…the very tower Tony Stark lived in. His heart pounded that he would have to tell his mentor that he was Spider-Man…after keeping this huge secret from him…and after Tony took Spider-Man’s suit away…after he messed up with the ferry. While Tony wasn’t angry with Peter, he was certainly mad at Spider-Man.

After the ferry incident, Peter had to go on pretending that he didn’t just get his suit…his alter-ego taken away by his mentor…and that he didn’t disappoint his mentor in one of the worst ways possible. He knew…just knew that if Tony found out that his intern and superhero mentee were one and the same…it would ruin everything…destroy everything he and Tony had. Ever since Tony had taken him under his wing as his intern in Stark Industries, he refused to do anything to disappoint the billionaire. He had become more than a mentor over the past few months…more like a father-figure to him. The way he and Tony connected…the way they talked to each other about their dark pasts…lost loved ones…it felt as though Tony was filling the void Ben left just the year before, but now…he realized that there was a possibility that it could all be over that night…in just one second. Tony would surely take one look at him and want nothing more to do with him.

“You okay, kid?” Happy finally asked gently.

“I…I don’t know,” Peter replied quietly. “D-Do we really have to talk to Mr. Stark about this?”

Happy sighed and slightly shook his head. “Yes, we do,” he replied. “He cares about you. He’s going to want to be sure that you’re okay. Besides, he would have my head if I let you go home like that.”

Peter sighed as he leaned back against the headrest. “He’s going to hate me,” he said.

“Peter…come on…he might be worried and a little pissed that you didn’t tell anyone about this…but he could never hate you.”

“You didn’t see his face when he was yelling at Spider-Man.”

(line break)

Needless to say, this was the last thing Tony had expected to happen that Friday night. After he and May dropped Peter off at his date’s house, he and his intern’s aunt went out for a quick bite to eat, and then he returned to the tower and spent some time in the lab while Pepper finished up with work. May told him that she would pick Peter up to take him home and promised that they would spend some time together tomorrow, and Tony was even going to go to bed at a decent hour that night…only to be woken up by Happy, who called him to tell him that the plane for the Avengers’ technology was going down and about to crash. He of course sent Happy to go retrieve it and find out what happened and to recover the weapons.

As he worked in the lab waiting for Happy to report back, he perked when FRIDAY announced that someone was coming up in the elevator. He looked up, and sure enough, there was Happy walking into the lab.

“Hey, uh, boss...” Happy began, “I got the hero of the hour with me.”

Tony furrowed his eyebrows together in confusion as he studied his forehead of security.  Weird because your tone suggests you got the villain instead,” he said as he took a step toward him eyeing him with suspicion.

Happy took a quick look over his shoulder clearly looking at someone behind him. Tony couldn’t see who it was, and JT piqued his curiosity even more. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was someone he found with the plane.

“Not a villain,” Happy began, “but...” He stepped to the side...revealing...Peter.

Tony’s eyes widened...upon seeing his teenaged intern...clearly looking bruised and cut up and a bit dirty, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound even more. He could handle Peter looking banged up because that was easy to fix. Some bandages and he would be fine, but what made his heart pound was seeing his intern...in a certain red and blue onesie...one that was all too familiar to him. He couldn’t possibly be wearing this onesie...he couldn’t have been. Peter was supposed to be at Homecoming with Liz.

“P-Peter...w-what are you...?” Tony asked in shock taking a step toward his kid. Peter didn’t say anything as he watched him walk closer. “Kid...please tell you decided wear a Halloween costume early just to scare me...”

The teenager shook his head slowly. “I-I wish I could, Mr. Stark...” he said.

“Y-You’re...you’re Spider-Man...?” Tony breathed after a moment. “This...this whole time...it’s been you? You’re him?”

Peter could only nod with tears forming in his eyes.

Tony’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at Peter...the very same kid he took under his wing months ago...the very same kid who had been coming to work with him every week in the lab...the very same kid he had come to see as a son. He was actually Spider-Man... This whole time he was actually the web slinging hero...Spider-Man. “W-Washington...when you disappeared...and...” he began as all the memories of him interacting with Spider-Man, “and... Germany...you...you were in Germany with me...and the ferry...and the night...the night you...Spider-Man almost drowned...that was all you?” Now, he couldn’t even see the mysterious web-slinging hero he had come to care about...all he could see was the teenager he came to care about...and it scared him.

“Yes,” Peter said softly looking at the floor and then up at Tony, “but please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Tony breathed raising his eyebrows. “Who’s mad, kid? Not me, I’m fine. Scared? Yes. Terrified? Hell to the yes.” The billionaire ran his hands through his hair thinking about Peter lying on the pavement at the airport in Germany…almost drowning or getting injured while fighting the Vulture on the ferry, and how he would’ve had no clue. How did he miss this? He was Tony Stark…supposedly a genius. How did he never figure out that Peter and Spider-Man were one and the same? “Oh my god...my intern...my...my kid...has been Spider-Man this whole time, and I never had any clue.”

Peter felt the tears form even more in his eyes seeing his mentor freak out in front of him…feeling guilty over not knowing he was Spider-Man…and he just even worse for not coming clean to Tony sooner. He could only wring his hands in his hoodie. “I didn’t mean to lie to you, I swear,” he said a little louder this time.

That made Tony stop in his tracks to look into Peter’s brown eyes. “Then why?” Tony asked…perhaps a little too firmly. He quickly steadied himself. The last thing he wanted to do was yell at Peter…not when there probably was a reason why he kept this huge secret from him and May. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he added more softly. “Pete, we tell each other everything. Why didn’t you tell me about...this?”

Peter closed his eyes as he realized that Tony was in fact right. They did tell each other everything from the littlest things to the biggest of things. He and Tony had learned to warm up to each other…to get comfortable with each other…and to trust each other in the year they had known each other.

“My uncle and I had a fight the night he died…and I ran out…I just ran to get a snack, and he went after me. Next thing I know…this robber comes into the deli and runs out…the owner even asked me why I didn’t stop him…I go out…and there’s Ben…lying on the ground bleeding. I…tried to save him…but…”

“Aw, kid…and you’ve been thinking that this whole time….”

“I don’t have to think it. I know it’s true, Mr. Stark.”

“No, it’s not, kid…it’s not your fault.”

True, Spider-Man and Tony had been too, but…Spider-Man couldn’t let Tony in like Peter did. If Spider-Man were to let anything slip, it could be one step closer to finding out that he and Peter Parker were one and the same.

The fact that his mentor looked so hurt that he didn’t share this made him feel more guilty, and he owed Tony an explanation. “Because...I was...” he stopped briefly wondering if he should even…explain before deciding to continue, “I-I don’t know...I guess I was worried you would try to stop me. I mean...I was trying to think of a way to break it down gently, but...I...after what happened with the ferry...and you wanted the suit back...I got scared. I...I already lost you as Spider-Man. I didn’t want to lose you as Peter Parker, too.”

“Y-You thought that...” Tony began still staring at Peter with widened eyes, and as the tears fell on Peter’s face…his heart broke, “aw, kid...come here.” He wasted no time in pulling Peter in for a hug as the teenaged vigilante quickly returned the gesture. “You never lost me, kid.” He ran his hands through Peter’s sweaty and matted hair. “I...I didn’t mean for you to think that I would reject you completely. I’m sorry you thought that. You just...you needed some tough love, that’s all.”

Peter sighed feeling the relief wash over him as he found himself in his mentor’s warm embrace. Tony’s hugs always seemed to have that affect on him whenever he was stressed, upset, or just wanted a hug, but now...it was a promise...that he would never lose him despite being Spider-Man. It was a promise to never leave him and that he would always be there. “I know that now,” he said. “I’m sorry, too, Mr. Stark. I just...wanted to be like you.”

“I just wanted to be like you.”

“And I wanted you to be better.”

The billionaire couldn’t help but chuckle. It was so much different now hearing Peter say that to him, and not as Spider-Man. “I appreciate that, kid,” he replied, “but...I’m hoping for you to be better than me. Who am I kidding? You’re on your way there.”

“He sure is, boss,” Happy interjected proudly. “This guy saved the Vulture.”

“I have no doubt about it,” Tony said smiling at his friend before pulling away so that he was looking at Peter. He noted how he did look bruised and had a few cuts on his face and how dirty he looked. “Let’s get you cleaned up and have those wounds looked at.”

“Okay,” Peter said nodding and smiling up at his mentor. “Thanks, Mr. Stark, and just so you know, I think I’m going to stay close to the ground for a little while...like you said...be the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, you know? After what happened tonight...I...you know...”

Tony smiled as he held onto Peter almost as if he was afraid to let go of his intern. “I think that’s a great idea, buddy,” Tony said after a moment, “and I’ll be there every step of the way, both for the internship and super-heroism.”

“Well,” Peter began smiling up at the billionaire, “you’ve already been doing that, but it’ll be such a relief not keeping it from you.”

“I’m glad you said that because...there’s one other person we should tell,” Tony said raising his eyebrows hoping Peter would take the hint.

The teenaged vigilante clearly got the hint because he threw his head back and groaned. “But May will freak out,” he said pleadingly.

“I know,” Tony said gently, “but she really does need to know, bud. It wouldn’t be fair if I was the only one who knew. That, and she would kick my ass if she found out I knew, and she didn’t.”

“It’s not worth just a…teeny tiny little risk?” Peter asked with a small smile.

“No...now, come on, Ferris,” Tony said wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders guiding him out of the lab with Happy in tow. “I’m going to take you down to the MedBay, and we will have lots to talk about.”

Peter rolled his eyes at his mentor, but at the same time, he couldn’t help but smile in relief. Perhaps, Tony and May knowing about him being Spider-Man wouldn’t be so bad.

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [3]

Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 3.5 OR Chapter 4

➜ Words: 3.5k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

Jungkook didn’t know this is how his night would turn out.   The cold night air bites at his skin, turning his cheeks rosy. His finger presses the button and there’s clinking and clanking before the aluminum can comes rolling at the bottom slot of the vending machine. He takes it from the slot and walks over to the wooden bench.   “Here.”   You’re sniffling, your entire body jolting as you do so. You take the cold grape soda with both hands, and hold it in your lap. He hopes you like it — he saw you drinking grape soda once back in high school.   Slowly, Jungkook takes a seat beside you. It’s terribly awkward for him, and he’s not sure what to do. The sounds of your sniffling shatters the silence of the night.   “You know….” He clears his throat. “People always break up with their first girlfriends or boyfriends.” Jungkook steals a glance at you. Tears are still slipping from your tear ducts, shedding down the apples of your cheeks. “And, uh, first loves don’t usually last. Even if it did, the divorce rate is pretty high, so, um, uh...yeah.”   Your sniveling is violent as if you’re trying hard to keep it at bay. He scratches the back of his neck, mind scrambling for ways to comfort you.   “You either get married or break up, so I guess he didn’t see you as the marriage type.” It’s the shittiest advice ever. Jungkook is at least self-aware enough to know just how bad his attempt at consoling you is, but it tumbles out of his mouth anyway with the half of the brain cell he has left. “You guys weren’t that great of a couple anyways—”   You burst out crying. Again.    This time the sobbing is louder, harder. Uncontrollable. It makes Jungkook look in all directions to make sure no one’s here lest they call the police and accuse him of harming you somehow.   “I...I love him!” you manage to say past your sobs, voice breaking in the process. It’s heart wrenching, though nothing but the truth. In this second, you’re so utterly vulnerable that it makes him entirely uncomfortable. “I l-love Jin. S-s...so m-much.”   You’re shaking with gut-wrenching sobs. Grief pours out in a flood and salt water creeps from your eyes. You whimper, “I thou—ght I was going to m-marry him, J-J-Jungkook.” The boy beside you doesn’t like the way you call his name, how you’re crying when you say it, how you’re blubbering. “Next month was supposed—….supposed to be our...two year anniversary.”   Jungkook has the urge to wipe off the flour stain on your forehead. But as he contemplates if he should or shouldn’t, he loses his opportunity. You tilt your chin to look at the sky, stain out of way as tears spring free down your cheeks.    You sniffle, “I really, r-really love him.”   Jungkook leans in.    He wraps his arms around your shoulders. He pulls you in close and hugs you tight. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but this is probably the least he can do. What his intuition tells him to do.    He feels you tremble against him until you stop. “W-what are you doing?”   “Umm…”   “Get off of me,” you spit at him half-heartedly and he lets go as if he’s burning you.   You’re back to sobbing again.   Jungkook is at a complete loss.   You were better as a bitch or at least easier to handle. It’s horrifying when you’re crying.

The cake burns in the oven. Jungkook can see the smoke curling into the air. He can smell it as it singes off his nose hairs. And he takes it out with mitts, coughing and wheezing, throwing the charcoaled tray on the kitchen counter. He turns to the person responsible.   “Were you not watching it?!”   “Fuck you, Johnson.”   “Why didn’t you set a timer?!”   “Why didn’t you?!”   “Because I wasn’t the one who put it into the oven!” He shouts, “Are you an idiot?!”   You’re looking at him what that infamous frown — those lopsided lips, that knot between your brows that makes your anger tangible. He watches the way you open your mouth to retort...but the hesitation is visible. And in shock, he then watches the way your expression crumples.   His gut feeling tells him this isn’t right. He steps back. But then it happens.   You start to cry — Jungkook freezes, eyes as big as saucers.   Your head knocks forward, tears drip to the floor. You’re so small. He’s never seen you like this before. Jungkook’s never seen you so vulnerable before.   “H-Hey, Y/N. C’mon….”   His hands come out, but they don’t touch you. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know how to make it stop. He is powerless.   “I’m sorr—”   Jungkook’s entire body jolts. His eyes rip open into the night. He’s woken up in a pool of his own cold sweat. Oh god. Thank fucking christ it was only a nightmare — he’s still traumatized for life.   The boy sighs, running a hand over his face and through the damp strands of his hair. He twists and turns, trying to return back to sleep, but he’s unable to. Eventually, his hand reaches for his phone on the nightstand.   5:42 am. Jungkook: hey 5:42 am. Jungkook: u ok??? 5:58 am. Jungkook: so when should we meet up for napoleon again   Hours later, it says you’ve seen the message, but you never answer him. You leave him on read.

It’s been a few days — how many, you’re not so sure.   You’ve been binging on ice cream and fudge brownies. The area near your mouth is stained with chocolate and crumbles of the treats. You haven’t showered in a while, or got up for that matter. It just feels better when you can pull the covers over your head and go through pictures of you and Seokjin on your phone.   Photographs of ice-cream dates, that time you went to an amusement park together, your high school graduation, the fairy lights you saw on Christmas, the beach during summer break, the movies during Spring break….   All of them. You look through all the pictures, from the blurry ones of him holding you close to the ones where you’re pouting as he leans down to plant a kiss on your cheek. You miss Jin so much it hurts and you always end up crying again when you play back the videos — sobbing underneath the lump on your mattress.   You’re glad you don’t have a roommate who can hear you crying day and night.   You remember the first time he asked you out, the first time he held your hand, the first time you kissed. It’s all fresh on the forefront of your mind, and you’re left wondering what you did wrong, where things took a turn and you didn’t even notice.   And you lay like that until you can’t cry anymore, until there’s no more pictures to see for the tenth time, until you reach the end of your years of text messages going back and forth. That’s when you see Jungkook’s text and you’re reminded that you can’t just lie around.   You need to get up, go to school. You paid a lot for it and you have midterms — you can’t leave him waiting.   Having no one to turn to, you dial his number.    It rings thrice before it picks up.   “Hello? Y/N?”   “Hey.” You can’t recognize your own voice. It’s thick and crackly, making you wince. “Sorry. I...called.”   “No, it’s okay. It’s okay, trust me. Um, are you, uh, alright?”   “I don’t know,” you answer honestly and peel back the covers just a bit. “I just wanted to let you know, I still remember the midterm, so…”   “Yeah, I know, t-take all the time you need.”   “Okay.” It goes silent. “That’s it. I should go now.”   “Right. I should probably go too. Take care of yourself.”   The call ends.   At least you still have a reason to get up.   //   Even if your mind is slowly preparing itself but your body isn’t, you have to eventually lug yourself up anyhow to get food when your supply of brownies and ice-cream runs out.   It’s a miracle how you can just go on autopilot — that you can walk to the dining hall while brain dead, that you can go forward when your bones and muscles are numb to movement.   You grab a tray and haphazardly scoop a ladle full of soup into your bowl. But when you turn away to find a seat, you come face to face with the worst of it, having forgotten this would happen.   You catch sight of Moonbyul and Sandeul at a table, but there’s no way you can approach them. They’re not your friends. Not anymore. All of your friends were Jin’s friends. He introduced you to them — and they know him better and longer than they know you. It is undoubtable that they would choose him.   You’ve lost everything.   You have no one.   Your hand tightens on the edge of the tray, looking for an empty table, searching for a spot where you can sit and quickly eat. Then you suddenly hear a call of your name—   “Y/N!”   Turning around, you discover Jungkook standing up from the cafeteria bench with his arm raised in the air. You approach hesitantly in five strides.   “Hey….”   All his friends are staring at you. One that you recognize as Jimin, another as Taehyung, one that has sharp features and striking looks and the other sleepy with cat-like eyes. “Ummm…”   “You can sit here.” Jungkook moves his friends’ trays out of the way, gesturing for them to scoot over. They look at him like they’ve gone crazy.   “T-Thanks…” You take him up on the offer, not wanting to reject him and make it more awkward.   They continue to gawk at you, and Jungkook has that sympathetic gaze of his. You know you look like a mess — you haven’t run a brush through your hair, the underneath of your eyes are red from rubbing, your nose is dripping, and your spoon trembles as you bring the soup up to your lips for a sip.    “Uh, this is Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok.”   “Nice to meet you,” you croak after clearing your throat.   “We’re in introductory cakes and decorating techniques together,” Taehyung chirps with a grin.   “Yeah, I know.” You try to smile and look over at Jimin. “And we’re in fine pastries together, right?”   Jimin nods, not uttering a single word. The awkwardness is tangible.   The man named Yoongi sucks up his soda noisily and then pops his lips off his straw. “Is your boyfriend not here toda—ow! What the fuck, dude.”   Jungkook’s doe eyes look back at his friend’s. “What.”   “Don’t play dumb, you just stepped on my damn foot—”   “Hey, is that all you’re eating?” Jungkook points his fork at your meager bowl of soup. Then he moves a bowl of fruit from his tray to yours. “Eat this. You like fruit, right? It’s good for you.”   You stare at it and pierce the strawberry to chew it in your cheek. Jungkook smiles when you move the honeydew off the bowl onto his plate. He eats it. “So when do you want to meet up again?”   “Tomorrow.”   “Okay, sounds good.”   Eventually, you finish your meal and mumble something about having to go to your locker. You bid them farewell and Jungkook waves with a brightened smile.   All five of them watch your backside becoming smaller. Then once you’ve disappeared, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin and Taehyung turn to Jungkook and wait for an explanation.   He looks back at them. “What?”   “Don’t ‘what’ us. The fuck was that.”   “Since when did you become buddies with Y/N?” Yoongi inquires, curious as well to the sudden change that almost gave him whiplash from sheer shock.   “Okay, first off, we’re not buddies. She’s just going through some shit, so I’m trying to be a decent human being.” They continue to eye him and Jungkook sighs, putting down his utensil. “Jin dumped her.”   “Oh shit.” Hoseok exchanges a look with Jimin.   Taehyung’s jaw is slack. “Damn, that makes a lot more sense.”   “Yeah, so don’t talk about him, dumbass,” Jungkook says pointedly to Yoongi.   “Hey, I didn’t know! Don’t put the blame on me.”   Hoseok asks, “When did it happen?”   “I don’t know, like a few days ago.” The dark-haired man leaves out the part where you were crying. They don’t really need to know that detail and he has no plans of making a spectacle out of you.   Taehyung leans in closer, too nosy for his own good. “Why?”   “How the hell would I know? Ask if you want to know that badly.”   “Nah, it’s no wonder though. She looks pretty bad.”   Jungkook muses the same and he can only hope you’re holding up well — if not for your own sake then for the sake of the midterm.   //   Another day comes and goes, a sunfall and sunrise, and you find yourself knocking at Jungkook’s door.   You didn’t know the weekend was so long. It feels long when you have no one to see, no one with you, nothing to do. Even after a full week has passed, you don’t feel better or close to it, but you know logically it’s better to get up and at least do something productive. You have some self awareness to know that rotting in your bed would be a pathetic way to die.   The door swings open.   The boy’s eyes are rounded. It occurs to you that you never realized just how brown his eyes are. “What are you doing here?”   “I...thought we could meet up early. I don’t really have anything to do, so…”   “How’d you know this is my room?” Jungkook peeks down the hall as if he could catch the person who exposed him like this, but there’s no one.   “I asked the front.”   “Oh.”   “Can I….”   “Sure.” Jungkook widens the door without thinking of the consequences and you step in.    It looks like a tornado took a turn here. His belongings are scattered and in disarray, clothing hanging off the back of his chair and dumped on the floor like there was a Black Friday sale.    Jungkook follows your line of sight and laughs stiffly. He picks up his briefs by your foot. “I’m usually not this messy, I swear. I’ve just been too busy to clean—”   The man pales and jumps on his bed when he notices what you’re staring at. He tries to cover up his IU posters with his hands and his body, but to no avail.    “These aren’t mine! They’re just up temporary cause, they were, um, gifts from my mom. I was a fan of her back in the day! But not anymore! Don’t make fun of me…”   The entirety of his wall above his bed is posters of IU from back in her debut days to her most recent comeback. He has a shelf of all her albums lined up in a row with her official lightstick too. They don’t seem dusty at all.   You take your eyes off of them, not uttering a single comment.   Jungkook realizes you’re not going to tease him and gets off his bed awkwardly. He continues to pick up after himself, throwing his used clothes in the laundry basket. His eyes flicker up to you.   “Wow, not even trying anymore, huh?” he jests, trying to lighten the mood. “Your outfit’s ugly.”   You look down, self-consciously tugging on the hem of your oversized sweater. It’s a taupe hoodie that goes to your knees. “It’s Seokjin’s.”   “O-oh. I, uh, mean you smell bad.” Jungkook laughs by himself and grabs his Febreze off his nightstand. He sprays the expanse of your body. It smells like fresh linen.   He stops after five seconds when it occurs to him you’re standing motionlessly — when it hits him that you’re not going to smack the head of his side like he expected you to.   Jungkook puts the Febreze back on the table and clears his throat. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.”   You’re freaking him the hell out. No matter how much Jungkook tries to banter with you or pick an argument, you remain quiet.   //   Even if you’ve gone mute, your baking abilities are luckily still intact.   Jungkook works quietly alongside you and helps you assemble the cake. After two strenuous hours, the product is put in front of the two of you. At first glance, the presentation is acceptable, but taste is another thing.   He cuts into the cake and eats. You wait patiently for his reaction. Jungkook’s brows wrinkle.   “Ugh, god.” He sets his fork down. “It’s so bitter.”   Your cakes are usually too sweet that it hurts his teeth — now it’s not sweet enough.   “Did you add any sugar?”   “You kept complaining I add too much,” you murmur dejectedly.   “Yeah, but you have to add some, Y/N. It’s not enough now. Here. Taste it. It’s disgusting.”   He gives you a tasting fork and you take a bite. After a thoughtful chew and swallow, you look at him impassively and shrug. “Tastes fine to me.”   “What?” Afraid he’s gone absolutely crazy, Jungkook takes another big bite. This time, his entire mouth dries and his tongue shrivels. It’s bad enough that he hisses, “It’s bitter.”   “I can’t taste it,” you mutter apologetically, eyes on the floor. “I think it’s because my nose is plugged.”   “How are you supposed to bake if you can’t taste?”    Jungkook sighs in frustration.   All your efforts for the past two hours have gone down the drain. You’ll have to start again, making it once more. But—    “What’s the point?” you ask him, shoulders slumped and your entire form drooping in on itself.    “What?”   “What’s the point?” you whisper to Jungkook. “We either do well or we fail, but it’s not like it’ll matter. We’ll still pass the class and we’ll move on. And we’ll graduate and work, and then die a few years from now. It’s not like this’ll significantly change our lives. What’s the point if we make it well or not. What’s the point of worrying about it.”   Jungkook is utterly mortified at your sudden despair. “Don’t you want to do well?”   You shrug.   He doesn’t know who this is — who you are — what you’ve become. This isn’t the Y/N that he knows.   “Can you stop moping?”   Silence.   “You’re not helping yourself by being miserable,” Jungkook says sharply. It pisses him off that you’re so pathetic, that all it took for you to become so small was a mere breakup. He can’t fathom that his rival has been reduced to this. “There’s worse things out there. It’s not like you’re dying.”   It remains quiet.    He doesn’t know what he has to do to squeeze some kind of living response from you.   “You’re alive and you’re still here. How much longer are you going to be like this? We have things to do!” Jungkook shouts, throwing his fork into the sink overflowing with dishes and bowls he has to wash as a result of your blunder. And it still seems like you don’t care. “I don’t get why you’re so sad. Jin isn’t even that great. He dumped you. So what? You move on! You get over it!”   You sniffle.    It snaps him back. Jungkook comes crashing down to reality. He watches the way you put your hands to your face and he realizes you’re crying again while nodding. God. He didn’t mean for it to come out like that, for him to sound like such an asshole.   “I’m...sorry,” you whimper, words muffled behind your hands. “I just...I’m t-trying.”   He sighs for the nth time. Guilt overwhelms him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that.”   Jungkook gently tugs on your strand of hair that falls in front of your face. His voice softens. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”   You nod, wiping your eyes away with your hand. “I just r-really want to go home and pull the covers over my head and pretend it never happened.”   “I know.” He really doesn’t.   Part of him still doesn’t understand. Jungkook can’t comprehend what was so great about Kim Seokjin that has you so devastated, but he tries his best to empathize. “But we can’t do that, can we? We just gotta...keep going. And it won’t be too hard cause it’s not like you have to do this on your own, right? Cause I’m here…..and you’re here, and all…”   He’s bumbling, tripping over his own tongue and cringing over his poor attempt at comforting you. But you look up at him with glossy eyes and he lets go of your hair.    With no one else to turn to and no one that you can confide in, you manage a small nod. You choose to believe him.

[arigatouiris]

i’ll remember you // kuroo tetsuroo (3/3)

Author’s Note: The last chapter! Ummm so I’m a bit worried about publishing on here... It’s a bit demotivating that I don’t hear from people anymore? I mean, I know that this is asking a lot but I’d really, really appreciate it if you guys would tell me if you liked this? I haven’t seen anything like it being written and thought it’d be cool to write it, so... Just drop in a comment or an ask and let me know your thoughts? I’d greatly appreciate it!

Word count: 4k+

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuroo x Reader [Kimi no Na Wa re-write]

Summary: Everything had been perfectly normal until you woke up as a volleyball captain from a school you didn’t go to, in a city you didn’t live in. Ever since then, Kuroo Tetsuroo has been inching closer and closer into your life, wrecking almost everything that could perhaps be considered normal.

However, you never realized how vital he was to you; because you were sure you would understand upon seeing him.The struggle however, was remembering each other. Because what good would it do if you went to saw him and he didn’t remember you?

Well, the universe turns back time, of course. Until he did.

Warnings: angst, body-swapping, bullying, fantasy, reader is depressed, mentions of suicide, character death, slow burn, bittersweet end, awkward boners, mentions of porn

ｃｈ． ０３ — ｒｅｍｅｍｂｅｒ ｙｏｕ

Kuroo found the note you had written and kept beneath a couple of books. Having arranged everything so neatly. All the anger he had dissipated instantly, and the call with Kenma ended, the note did a great deal to bring his attention to where he needed it the most.

You.

A couple of months passed with the random swapping happening on days no one really predicted. He left angry notes behind whenever you'd done something stupid to embarrass him or scored low on a math test one day; and you'd leave silly notes suggesting that he cut his hair or you'll do it for him, on how you were slowly picking up volleyball and you might possibly have a crush on Yaku. Kuroo would respond with 'Don't touch Yaku', and looked forward to swapping bodies with you more, because somewhere down the line, not only was it to help you, but it was also helping him.

He could feel himself getting closer to his own father, which was rather strange. Their conversations didn't change, but Kuroo didn't complain about toast for breakfast, and even sometimes bothered to make his own. You, on the other hand, had wonderful conversations with your mother, and the cleared desk remained clear. You paid more attention to keeping your hair soft, drinking more water, and spending more time with Naru; sometimes, you'd play with Takeru, teaching him volleyball and seeing that he actually enjoyed the sport. Your slow communication with Kuroo stopped making you feel crippled, as a matter of fact, Kuroo became a part of your routine.

Some mornings after the swap, you'd wake up with a smile on your face; and your first thought would be Kuroo. It was strange, you'd not even met the boy but lately, he was all you could think of. The swaps were getting more and more regular, and you'd see sweet notes scribbled all over your book — 'Why aren't you dating anyone? Want tips?' You rolled your eyes, knowing full well that Kuroo himself was a bit awkward with girls.

You desperately wanted to see how he was in real life, where you were not being him. You wanted to learn how his voice felt against your eardrums, how his fingers might feel when they ruffled your hair; small interactions were all you craved for, and never before had you ever felt like this for someone you had never met.

Kuroo, on the other hand, knew full well that he was straight out in love with you. It didn't take him long to fall for someone, and while he knew his feelings for you were weird, he also didn't forget that you were dead in the present timeline.

He would wake up some mornings with a note on his face that had sweet little things written like, 'Good morning, Kuroo-kun! I took the liberty to iron your uniform today seeing how you had crumpled mine so brilliantly!' He chuckled before feeling his heart race a bit at the work you had done. He knew you were a year younger, but you were a pro-note taker, and your notes had saved him a lot of time for missing these classes.

But with each passing note, each passing swap day, Kuroo's dread slowly increased. You were going to die and he had no clue how to stop it. He wondered what was even causing the swaps with him in the first place. Did he have a significant role to play here?

Perhaps, there was something that was telling him that the swapping was more than just random. With your second note, he had invariably understood a part of you that you apparently didn't often show to others; not that there were a lot of others, to begin with. He wondered how you'd take the change of dialogue he had with your mother, and about cleaning your desk—he wondered why you hadn't done it yourself in the first place. Perhaps, it was a part of you that he deeply wanted to understand, and for that, maybe, living in your skin may help him. However, he needed to know more.

First, he needed to find what happened to your mother. What kind of accident was it that had taken her life? And what happened to Takeru? From what he heard, your aunt had moved houses after your death, which meant that he might have at least seen a kid if there was one. Takeru was nowhere near you when you had moved to Tokyo, which meant that he was somewhere else.

He didn't know why the first person he thought of asking was his grandfather. His grandfather was a renowned gossip, and he hoped to find some sort of answer through the old man. It was thankfully a weekend right then, and ignoring the hordes of messages that Bokuto was sending him about his 'amazing performance' the previous day, Kuroo felt determined to get this over with.

He found his grandmother watching something on the iPad, and his grandfather was sitting in front of the television. He knew his father was out working, so this gave him ample time to bother his grandfather with useless questions.

Apparently useless questions.

    "Yo, ji-chan," Kuroo's grandfather greeted him with a killer smile, "You heard about the girl (s/n) (y/n) from across the road? The one that...died."

His grandfather nodded before humming, "Poor girl. She moved here for school after her mother and brother passed in an accident. They're from a port town, see. They used to harvest salt."

He knew that much, and his heart hurt from thinking of Takeru also passing away. The boy was barely 8 years old.

    "Know anything else? What kind of accident was it?"

    "You seem quite interested in this. Did you know (y/n)-chan?"

Kuroo smiled bitterly, "In a way, ji-chan."

    "I'm sorry to hear that, Tetsu-chan," His grandfather's voice made him feel worse, "(y/n)-chan took her own life because there was no one else left for her. It's truly sad to see young people take their lives. Her aunt wasn't of any help. Made her dream of a good life in Tokyo and brought her here and just... paid no attention to her."

    "Didn't she go to school?"

    "She went to your school, Tetsu-chan, didn't you know that already?"

Kuroo's heart dropped. What the fuck? He felt a cold sweat rushing over his features. Suddenly, he felt as if he was walking toward something that he should actually be running away from. You were in his school? That meant... That meant it had been three whole months since you had been here and he didn't even know. By now, Kuroo had assessed what would cause everything to topple over.

He had to stop your mother's accident. Somehow, he had to reach you. He had to find out what happened to your mother and brother, and stop the accident from happening. And if that happened, you'd continue to live there. You'd continue to live and you'd grow up happy.

If you came to Tokyo, you'd die.

    "Her mother and brother were on a boat, Tetsu-chan," His grandfather's words alerted him from his stupor, "They were returning home after a ferry ride to a museum. It was the boy's birthday."

That was good. This was good enough. He knew when it would happen, and if he could just swap into your body before then, if only he'd be able to choose willingly when the swap could happen, Kuroo wouldn't have to live with the morbid anxiety bubbling in his chest. He rushed outside, ignoring his grandfather's wishes for him to go brush his teeth, and ran to Kenma's door.

    "Kenma! Kenma! Kenma—"

The door opened, revealing a rather annoyed looking Kenma.

    "I'm starting to prefer (s/n) over you."

    "Need to talk. It's important."

Both of them sat behind Kenma's house, the same place they had started to play volleyball for the first time, a long time ago.

    "Did you know she went to our school?"

Kenma blinked before turning to Kuroo with a surprised look. Kuroo merely nodded with a bitter expression on his face.

    "Her mother and brother die in a boating accident. On her brother's birthday. She moves here and... for three whole goddamn months she's here and we don't... we don't know."

    "Kuroo, you can't blame yourself for this—"

    "It's repeating all over again. She just died and I couldn't—"

    "It's stupid if you think you could have saved her," Kuroo almost winced at how cold Kenma's voice was, "But, you can save her now. So, just don't mess it up."

    "I need to go see her."

    "You know that she won't be there."

    "Maybe, there's some sort of hill like in the movie—"

    "Highly unlikely."

    "Well, this fucking seems highly unlikely too, doesn't it?!" Kuroo yelled, feeling his heart rate increase, "Me swapping bodies with a girl that's dead!?"

Kenma sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "Maybe, the next time you swap, try to figure out when her brother's birthday is and ensure her mom and brother don't go out. That should do it."

    "Why was she not on the boat with them?" Kuroo asked, confusedly.

Kenma shrugged. "Maybe, she was somewhere else?"

    "Where could she have gone?"

    "Maybe, it has more to do with her relationship with her family?"

    "Hm, yeah... I mean, it is pretty strained. But, I did something. I apologized to her mother after learning that she fought the night before the swap."

Kenma's eyes widened.

    "What?"

    "She did the same for you."

Kuroo paused a bit before narrowing his eyes. She did what?

    "Your dad was telling her, I mean you, about how you blame yourself for... you know."

    "Ah, fuck!" Kuroo groaned before scratching his head with both his hands. "Why can't she not meddle—"

    "What are you doing to tell her that?"

    "Well, I'm trying to save her life—"

    "She doesn't know that."

Kuroo let out a breath. Kenma moved away from him as he stood up.

    "Go brush your teeth, Kuroo."

Several thoughts flooded into his mind. Why was it Kuroo's body that you swapped with? In the movie, Mitsuha swapped with Taki because she dreamed of being a boy in Tokyo. Did you want the same thing? Did you by any chance meet Kuroo somewhere in the past and he had failed to recognize you? Were you some girl on a train that he had met and had forgotten about? Did something happen in the past year that he can't remember, and had invariably changed your life so much that it ended everything?

Why was it him?

Throughout the next month, Kuroo desperately waited to swap bodies with you. He tried to recreate your face in his mind repeatedly, not wanting to forget about you, and this latent obsession that he had with you was starting to get Kenma worried. Without even having met you, he started to miss you, he wanted to see you, communicate with you, but how could he communicate with someone from a year ago?

He wondered what would happen if he went to you.

He knew the name of your high school, and he knew that Naru would be someone he could contact right now. Naru would be in her final year of high school, which meant that meeting Naru could give him an idea of what had happened with you. Desperately wanting answers, he knew there was only one way to get them. He had to go to you, even if you weren't there.

Rushing to his bathroom, he quickly brushed his teeth before running over to his laptop and opening his screen. He took a deep breath before clicking on Goto Islands, the largest island being Fukue. He knew that finding Naru would mean he could find where you lived, and if that happens, then perhaps he could understand what had actually happened. He had to get to Hanada Airport terminal and then take a flight to Fukue, which would take him around 3 hours. Reaching Hanada would take him an hour, so he knew he had to leave immediately. Shooting Kenma a message of what he was going to do, Kuroo decided that he had to meet Naru; the anticipation of the entire ordeal was killing him. If fate decided you deserved a second chance, he did not want to mess it up.

On reaching Hanada airport terminal 1, Kenma called him.

    "What are you doing? Kuroo, she's not—"

    "I'm going to meet her friend, Naru. Maybe, she knows what happened. If I know what happened, then maybe I can stop it."

Kenma didn't say a word, "I hope you know what you're doing, Kuroo. I seriously don't think this is anything like Kimi no Na Wa."

    "Yeah, well," Kuroo grinned, "I think I can't let go of my soulmate so easily, right?"

He could hear Kenma scoff, "You're such a sap."

    "Maybe, there's a red string connecting our pinky fingers across time."

    "Good luck, Kuroo."

Kuroo smiled before putting his phone inside his pocket, his heart racing as he headed inside the airplane that would take him to Fukue island. On reaching Fukue, he knew he had to take a taxi to the mainland, but the area was almost barren. Kuroo blinked a couple of times before turning to the left, finding a lone man standing there.

    "Uh, if I want to get a taxi, where should I go?"

    "Ya wait."

Kuroo felt a cold sweat hit him now. He couldn't wait. The more time he spent here, the closer you inched toward death, and he didn't want that to happen. Letting out a breath, Kuroo walked forward, hoping his memories would be enough to let him know where to go. Maybe, he'd spot something familiar, something that would let him guide himself to your old home.

However, luck was on his side, a taxi paused by him and he could finally get to the school because he knew that was his best bet at finding your house. Ten minutes later, Kuroo ran toward your old home, ignoring the looks he was getting from the people around him. His legs carried him faster than ever before, and he quickly came to a halt before his eyes fell on a familiar brown-haired girl, taking out the trash. The time was close to 5 p.m. and Kuroo's heart raced at the sight of the hyperactive Kotoishi girl.

He walked over to her and the height difference made him want to laugh. (y/n) was almost as tall as her, but right then, Naru was shorter than Kenma was.

Naru looked up and her eyes widened, before a faint recognition hit her pupils.

    "Yer the boy, aren't ya?"

Kuroo felt his heart constrict at how mellow Naru sounded. He nodded, because what else could he do?

    "Ya remembered," Naru said, smiling bitterly at him, "But a bit too late."

    "I can still save her."

Naru blinked, "How?"

    "Explaining will take a lot of time, Naru-chan," Kuroo said, rubbing the back of his neck, "Can you take me to her old home?"

Naru nodded and walked him there. However, she knew that he probably remembered the route, considering he had lived as her best friend on multiple occasions. Turning to the taller male, Naru hummed.

    "Yer quite handsome, aren'tcha?"

Kuroo chuckled, "Thank you. I wanted to ask you a few things, actually."

    "Not surprised. Shoot."

    "What...happened?"

They paused in front of your old home and Naru pressed her lips together. It wasn't easy for her to recollect what had happened to you or your family, but she was dreading this day. The day when the boy her best friend's body was occupied by would come and grace her with his presence. It confused her that he came a year too late, but perhaps, magical things in the world worked in a way no one could properly identify.

    "She wasn't really close with 'er mom. She forgot that it was Take-chan's birthday, and that 'er mom and 'im were gonna go check out the museum."

    "Where was she?"

Naru gave Kuroo a smile that could have broken his heart. That one smile made him understand that this was where he would come in.

    "She went to see you."

*

    "I have to go see him, Naru!"

Naru hummed before rolling her eyes, "Yer deeply in love with a boy you've never met."

    "But, I've lived as him. I think I can guide myself to his house and just... tell him! Besides, he knows me too. We've been sharin' notes."

    "But, there's no guarantee that it is him, right?"

    "Of course there is, who else is a Kuroo Tetsuroo from Nekoma, volleyball captain, bed-haired handsome dork?" You giggled at your own words.

    "Just hope ya know what yer doin'." Naru said, narrowing her eyebrows.

You nodded before letting out a breath. "I've booked my tickets to Tokyo too. I land in Hanada and I should probably take a train to Nekoma. I know my way from there."

    "Aren'tcha forgettin' somethin' 'bout tomorrow, though?" Naru asked, pressing a finger to her chin.

    "What could I possibly be forgettin'?"

The next morning, you left quietly and quickly. You hadn't told your mother that you were going to Tokyo, you knew she'd not let you, either way. It felt as if you were doing something daring for the first time; wanting to go to Tokyo as you and no one else. Half of you was excited to see the boy you liked, but the other half was just excited to do something like this for the first time. Your hair felt lighter than ever, your skin was practically glowing and your heart was racing; you were not hoping that Kuroo would return your feelings, though some part of you thought he did, the experience of it all made you feel almost overwhelmed with joy.

On reaching Hanada terminal 1, your first reaction was to take a deep breath. It was a school-day, and you knew how your mother felt about you missing school, but that wasn't what ran in your mind right then. You were going to meet someone that had invariably changed your life; that had been such a big part of how you could transform into a more confident individual—and this was everything you were waiting for, even before you knew you had waited for it.

On entering the train to the station closest to Nekoma, you felt like the crowds were suffocating you, but every pore in your body seemed to breathe oxygen right then and you felt like your lungs were full of air. The happiness that was coursing through your veins was enough to keep you pumped.

I have to change trains now, you thought before opting to get out, but a familiar mop of a bed head froze you to your spot. You were almost out of the train, the pack of people pouring in made it hard for you to keep your standing, but you had seen him— bed hair and gold eyes—entering the train you were in from your right. Instantly, you moved through the crowd to grab his wrist, wanting nothing more than to press yourself to him and to scream his name, but—

What was his name?

Your eyes widened as he turned to look at you, gold eyes penetrating into your (e/c) ones. He blinked questioningly, clearly confused by your sudden appearance.

    "Do I know you?"

You gasped, what was his name? Why couldn't you remember his name?

    "Ah, it's... It's... I'm sorry."

You were pushed out of the train and the doors closed; you kept your eyes fixed on the boy's from outside, and his eyes found yours, but there was not even a hint of recognition there. Suddenly, you had no idea what you were doing in Tokyo. All the hope had exited your body in a matter of seconds, it was merely a byproduct of having a delusion embedded into your psyche as hope; which it wasn't at all. Tears filled your eyes as you shut them, letting your tears fall straight from them.

You do not know how long you stood there before you got the call from Naru. The call that had changed your life.

*

    "I... I met her." Kuroo said, his eyes widening as realization sunk in.

It was a meager moment, a moment so easily forgotten. It felt as if he was crossfading into time right then, every inch of his being became a burden. How was he to remember you when he hadn't met you? Why was fate playing with him the way it was?

It didn't make sense.

    "She came back after I'd called her. She never really forgave herself for it."

    "When was..." Kuroo cleared his throat, "When is the..."

He couldn't bring himself to say 'anniversary of death'. Naru, however, was the smartest person he knew.

    "In two days. The 13th of November. Also," Kuroo turned to her with dead eyes, "You'd once told me that somethin' was gonna happen to her. This means that the future-you didn't remember 'er or didn't come 'ere and that's why she died in the present timeline. If she's gonna live in the past timeline, and if that has to merge into the present, then you have to do somethin' you didn't do before."

It took him a couple of seconds to understand her. Naru smiled before punching his chest.

    "Try talkin' to her now or somethin'. Happens in the movie, donnit?"

    "Where's... Where's her grave?"

Naru led Kuroo to the gravesite before walking away, knowing he had to stay there for a few moments. Kuroo's heart broke at the sight of your grave, right beside your mother and brother's, and tears instantly filled his eyes. He’d always secretly believed that a love as fierce and true as his would be rewarded in the end, and now Kuroo was being forced to accept the bitter truth. You were dead; no matter what he did, what he would do, you would try looking for him at the wrong time, and he would permanently lose you.

The sky was strangely painted orange that evening. An orange blended with hues of pink and purple, scattering above him in a colorful dance that screamed joy—as if to laugh at his misery. The skies were radiant as his heart broke, and for the life of him, Kuroo couldn't understand how the universe had so gladly failed him.

    "Fuck," He uttered before wiping the tears that fell from his eyes, "I wish I could have saved you. I wish I'd remembered you. Somehow, anyhow. I wish I could have saved you. Fuck, this is killing me."

The time was 6:14 p.m. Suggested time for twilight was ten minutes from then. Kuroo had been here before but had left two minutes early. Perhaps, it was by chance that he stayed this time. Perhaps, the universe wanted a different end. No one can really say what these things were. They just happen.

You had made a wish right before closing your eyes for the last time.

I wish the next time he sees me, he'll remember me.

Perhaps, someone in the universe who could make a difference had heard your plea. Perhaps, someone just wanted to see what would happen if two parallels were connected for the first time. As impossible as it sounded, Kuroo had made it possible by staying there longer than any of his future forms had ever done. Those two minutes made all the difference.

Just before twilight, he shut his eyes for a couple of minutes; before reopening them as you.

He let out a gasp before feeling his heartbeat accelerate. A moment ago, he was at the graveyard, mourning for you, but right now, he was in your skin.

   "Take-chan," He called out, "What day is it?"

   "It's the 13th. Two days to my birthday!"

Where the hell is she? He thought before running to where the graveyard was, ignoring your brother's pleas. 13th November. 13th November. Two days before your brother's birthday. He could spot the graveyard from a distance and his heart skipped several beats on seeing himself there. Tears filled his eyes before rushing over to hug him, knowing full well who was inside.

Swap.

Kuroo opened his eyes and spotted your form, hugging him, crying into his chest. You were sobbing, and Kuroo could feel his own eyes burn with tears. Quickly grabbing your cheek, Kuroo leaned down and pressed his lips to yours, not wanting to waste what time was given to him. He could feel you practically shake under his hold, and he knew that this was perhaps the magic of twilight that the movie had spoken about. He didn't have to look upward to see how the orange sky now seamlessly made so much more sense to him. The pinks and the purples, the hues scattering above him in that same radiant dance that welled his heart with inexplicable joy and hope.

    "Tetsu-kun!"

    "(y/n)-chan." He said so fondly, he felt his heartbreaking.

    "I was going to come to see you... In two days, I've booked—"

Kuroo shook his head vehemently, "Please, please don't. Listen to me, it's your brother's birthday on the 13th. Don't go anywhere. It's going to rain, it's going to," He was taking deep breaths now, "Stay indoors, you hear me?"

    "I love you." You said, tears leaking down your eyes.

Kuroo nodded, his hands pressing your cheeks as if his life depended on this very moment, "I love you too, (y/n)-chan, just promise me. Promise me you'll live through this and come see me."

You nodded, "I promise. I'll come to see you—"Your eyes widened, "I... I can't remember your name, please—"

    "My name is Kuroo Tetsuroo."

    "My name is (y/n)—"

Kuroo pulled your hand out and kissed firmly on the back of it. You mentally repeated his name countless times before it slipped your consciousness effortlessly. You were sobbing now, at how you knew you loved his boy but couldn't for the life of you remember who he was.

    "You..." Kuroo could feel his own memories of you vanish, "I'll remember you."

    "I love you so much!"

Kuroo leaned down to kiss you once more, his hands gripping your hair tightly. You kissed back, but a second later—

—you were gone.

*

The day when the sky turned various shades of orange, it was almost as if a scene from a dream; it was a beautiful view.

Once in a while, when Kuroo woke up, he finds himself crying. The dream he must have had he can never recall. But, there was a sensation that he had lost something, and it lingered long after he had woken up.

Working for Japan's Volleyball Association was a task—especially after Hinata was signed into the MSBY Jackals. He knew had to head over and meet the orange-haired runt the next day, but Kuroo believed he'd take his time. It was the weekend after all. Scratching his butt, he ignored Kenma's message before grabbing his coat and walking to the nearest 7/Eleven.

Kuroo's eyes linger for a second longer on the back of his palm before brushing it off and walking out of his house. He had long moved out of his father's home but managed to visit every once in a while. The first time Kuroo had beer with his father, he pictured how far he'd come, how difficult it used to be for him even to look his dad in the eye. Now, after having blamed himself for his mother's death during his teen years, Kuroo could safely say he had put it all behind him.

My name is—

Walking into the store, he noticed a bike waiting outside, not having been locked. He chuckled at the kid's carelessness before heading in to buy that morning's breakfast.

    "Nee-chan, we can get fried chicken for lunch!"

    "Take-chan, are you sure you can be eating such things being a volleyball player?"

Kuroo froze. He gulped but suddenly felt something pricking the back of his throat, making it almost impossible for him to swallow. Slowly, he turned to spot you and your brother, your backs facing him, as you picked out some packed lunches in the frozen section. Suddenly, your brother winced before running outside, muttering how he had forgotten to lock the bike.

Kuroo's heart pounded in his chest as he approached you, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. You looked like he had remembered, but he couldn't place from where. Your hair was longer, a soft blue cardigan adorned your figure, and blue jeans—you were still shorter, but he couldn't remember from when.

My name is (y—

    "Uh," He took a deep breath before noticing you turned to face him, "I know this is a strange question but..."

Your eyes widened upon noticing him. A lone tear fell from your left eye the longer you stared before your mind screamed at you.

My name is K—

    "Have we met before?" You sounded almost desperate, your heart raging inside your ribcage.

And in that second, Kuroo had remembered you.

[janeykath318]

Family Ties and Flirty Guys

“What brings you back here, Doctor?” Sam asked, making her blush a bit with the way he emphasized her new title.

“You, for one,” Darcy told him, eyes looking him up and down approvingly. She was just as pretty and charming as he remembered and he didn’t feel averse to picking up where they left off if she showed signs of being interested.

“Oh?” He asked, smirking a bit.

“Yeah,” she confirmed with a fleeting, almost nervous smile. “I’ve heard of your exploits with Bucky lately and the unfortunate episode with the fake Captain America.”

Sam winced and Darcy sighed, eyes glancing at the shield in his hand.

“It looks good on you,” she said simply.

“Thanks,” Sam acknowledged. “But why else are you here? Not that I’m not happy to see you…”

She chuckled awkwardly and he saw she was holding a file folder in her hand.

“So, I was doing a little research into my family tree for funsies when I stumbled upon this.”

She held out a piece of paper and Sam’s eyes widened.

“You mean…..”

“Yep,” she confirmed proudly. “Is he here?”

“Last I saw, he was fishing with my nephews,” he told her. “Want me to take you to him?”

“Sure, if it’s no trouble,” she said nervously. “I’d better speak up now before I chicken out. I hope he won’t think I’m crazy.”

“I think he’ll be elated to find out he has living family,” Sam told her seriously. “The records you have make it pretty clear you can back it up.”

So, in a few minutes, Darcy was following Sam to the docks, where three figures were having the time of their lives. Bucky looked a lot different from the last time she’d seen him, but he was joking and smiling with the kids, who were plainly having the time of their lives.

“Wow. He’s great with kids,” she commented.

“I know. They took to him pretty fast,” Sam admitted. “Never would have guessed it.”

“Are the two of you…...okay?” She asked. “I remember your epic clashes back in the old days. But Steve was there to keep the peace.”

Sam looked thoughtfully off into the distance.

“We’re in a better place, I’d say. We’ve been able to finally have conversations that should have happened a long time ago. He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s a great guy. Never tell him I said that, though.”

Darcy laughed and Bucky suddenly noticed them.

“You bringing girls home, Sam?” He yelled smugly, standing up and putting his hands on his hips. The boys giggled beside him.

“Zip it, Barnes!” Darcy yelled back. “If anything, I’d take HIM home.

Bucky’s smile got even bigger and he rushed over to join them, grabbing Darcy in a hug.

“Lewis! Long time no see!”

Darcy smiled as she was bodily lifted and twirled around before being set back on her feet.

“Yeah. Right back atcha. I see you got tired of the hobo chic look.”

Sam snorted and Bucky chuckled, rubbing his head self-consciously.

“Yeah. I got tired of hair flying in my face in a fight,” he explained. “S’not practical. But what brings you all the way out here, other than hitting on Sam?”

There were more giggles from the boys and Sam fixed them with a stern look before glancing at Darcy and leading the kids away to give her some privacy.

Darcy stood in front of Bucky, trying to find the right words to break it to him gently, but in the end the first thing that came out of her mouth was “You’re my great-great uncle!”

Quite naturally, Bucky looked at her like she was off her rocker, and Darcy face-palmed with the hand that was not holding the paper.

“Ummm, here,” she sighed, handing him the paper. “It’s from the records I found when researching my family tree. I meant to ease into it, but my big ole mouth just went and got ahead of my brain.”

His eyes widened as he read it and a rather incredulous smile lit up his face.

“Here I was thinking I had no living relatives,” Bucky said in wonder. “No wonder we were so in synch in our mischief making. Genetics.”

He hugged Darcy again, this time much longer. She could practically feel the delight radiating off of him and it made her feel very satisfied in the decision she’d made. Back in the pre-Snap world, Darcy had befriended Bucky and roped him into her prank schemes against the avengers. He was super stealthy, so no one but Natasha ever knew who was really responsible for the terror rained down upon their friends. Their crowning achievements had included glitter on Steve’s helmet and shield, smiley faces on Tony’s suit, and trick arrows that squawked like chickens when fired. (The look on Clint’s face!!)

“So, should I call you Uncle James now?” She asked slyly, grinning at him again.

He groaned and shook his head decidedly.

“No. That just makes me feel old,” he declared.

“Well, you technically are.”

“In that case, respect your elders, young lady,” he said, wagging his finger and making his voice creaky. “Oh, and get off my lawn!”

They doubled over laughing until Sam came back and shook his head at them.

“I hate to interrupt this charming family reunion,” he said dryly. “But I’d like a turn to catch up with Doctor Lewis here. We have some unfinished business.”

He looked at her meaningfully and Darcy fluttered her eyelashes. Sam was very good at saying a lot with one look, and she was liking what that said very much.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed and he looked between them suspiciously, clenching his metal hand a bit.

A woman appeared on the porch and suddenly, his whole demeanor shifted and he smiled an utterly charming smile and strolled toward her.

Sam groaned and face palmed.

“He seems smitten,” Darcy remarked, eying the way Bucky was chatting up the woman, whom Darcy guessed was probably Sam’s sister. She’d never met her, but he’d mentioned her quite a few times.

“Unfortunately.” Sam snorted. “I warned him not to flirt with her or I’d feed him to the fish, but does he listen? No!”

“Well, I guess you’ll get some good payback if he sees you flirting with his great-great niece,” Darcy suggested, a very sly expression in her blue eyes. “And lay it on thick. I want to scandalize him.”

“Man, I’ve missed you,” Sam stated, grinning evilly as he pondered how awesome Darcy was and how he could annoy Bucky the most.

“And I’ve missed you, too,” she told him, giving him the hug she’d been wanting to for a long time.

They talked outside for a long time, discussing Darcy’s journey to getting her doctorate and the adventure in Westview, and Sam’s struggle with the legacy of the shield and the mess with John Walker.

Darcy’s eyes were wet when he’d finished and for a moment she didn’t say anything, just stood there in supportive silence.

“That is a LOT. Wow, Sam.”

She shook her head, then stepped forward and poked him in the chest.

“The world needs more heroes like you, and that’s the truth. You, Sam Wilson, are a good man. Steve knew that and the rest of the world is going to know that too.”

Before Sam could respond to this, a voice yelled out, “Sam! Don’t make her stand there all day! Bring her in and introduce us!”

“Sarah?” Darcy asked, with a knowing smile.

“Yup,” Sam sighed. “And that was her mom voice, so we’d better get going.”

When they made it inside, Bucky was helping Sarah put dinner on the table and being far too friendly about it, in Sam’s opinion. Before he could give his friend a quelling death glare, he felt a soft hand wrap around his arm as Darcy scooted in close.

“Remember the plan?” She whispered, giving him a flirtatious smile.

Sam swallowed hard. He wasn’t sure it was such a good plan now, but he found he wasn’t willing to object, so he smiled right back at her and went along with it.

Darcy was a big hit with the rest of the Wilson family and soon had the boys captivated as she told the story of how she’d met Thor and tased him.

“And how did you wind up meeting these two?” Sarah asked, nodding at Sam and Bucky, who were currently engaged in another stare down. Bucky had caught Sam holding Darcy’s hand and had nearly turned purple. Darcy thought it was both hilarious and adorable how protective both men were being.

“I met Sam when sad puppy Steve brought him in after the whole mess in DC. I was visiting one of the Avengers facilities and saw him swooping around and oh, boy, I was Very Intrigued, to say the least.”

She winked suggestively at Sam, who smirked.

“I met Bucky here a few months later when he was on his Destroy All Hydra bases rampage and he happened to hit the one I was held hostage in. Normally, I’m pretty good at being self-rescuing, but Hydra is Hydra. He found me in the Nick of time.”

She gave Bucky a grateful look, and he nodded in acknowledgment, both feeling even more thankful for the rescue now.

“Sounds like you’ve had a lot of adventures, Darcy,” Sarah commented.

“Yeah,” Darcy chuckled. “It would probably be better for my nerves and blood pressure if I just hung around non-superheroes, but I’ve become too attached to them. They’re just so darn irresistible!”

She looked up at Sam with an exaggerated adoring smile and he gave her back a look that had her getting hot all over.

Bucky glowered and paid Sarah another compliment.

And so on it went until Sarah shooed the boys off to bed and Darcy was on the porch standing between Sam and Bucky, who were both piling up the spoken and unspoken threats.

“If you hurt her, Wilson, I’ll go full Winter Soldier on your ass!” Bucky growled.

“Oh, yeah? And if you hurt HER, I will drop your ass from five hundred feet, THEN feed you to the fishes!” Sam shot back.

“Down, Boys!” Darcy soothed, laying a hand on each of their arms.

“Sarah and I are perfectly capable of kicking the butts of whoever hurts us, but somehow, I don’t think either of you will. Now, can we all peaceably say goodbye, so I can give my man a Goodnight kiss?”

Grudgingly, the men shook hands and Bucky gave her a huge hug.

“Look me up when you get back to New York,” she told him. “I’ve got some old photos you might want so see.”

“I sure will, Darcy. Thank you. This means so much to me,” he said earnestly.

When Bucky had gone around to the back, Sam moved in close.

“Were you serious about that Goodnight kiss, Lewis?” He asked.

“Very serious,” Darcy grinned, rising up on tiptoes as he leaned down. It was a very good thing Bucky left, she reflected afterwards. Sam sure knew how to make a girl’s knees weak!