#we kind of knocked out a few side missions too

[greyias]

Ladies and gentleman...

SHE DID IT

Sure, it took her casting guidance on herself via silver locket, Shadowheart casting enhance ability, but she was finally able to pass all those DC 20 performance checks as she worked her way around Rivington

But at long last, Ari has succeeded in the achievement I assigned to her back in Act 1:

Atta girl! From getting booed by Lae'zel for your first performance, to delighting the streets of Rivington, you're officially the minstrel paladin I dreamed of when rolling up your character.

Huh. Guess we need to like... go play the rest of the plot now.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

It’s You

Where Y/N’s chaotic energy clashes with her grumpy, tattooed neighbor, her mission to get on his good side turns into stolen glances, quiet moments, and a connection she never expected.

Au Harry

Word count: 13,395

Content warning: Cursing, smut, alcohol.

The warm glow of string lights illuminated Y/N’s cozy Los Angeles apartment as the sound of laughter filled the air. The small space was a mix of bohemian chic and personal touches—a gallery wall of polaroids, a cluttered coffee table covered with open bags of snacks, and a few empty wine bottles standing like trophies from their earlier indulgence.

Y/N flopped back onto the couch, a glass of red wine in hand, her cheeks flushed from both the alcohol and nonstop giggling. Her two best friends, Harper and Lila, sat cross-legged on the floor, snacking on popcorn and chips, fully embracing the childlike joy of their adult sleepover.

“This feels so right,” Y/N said, her voice slightly tipsy. “Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Because we’re responsible adults now, remember?” Harper teased, adjusting her oversized hoodie. “Nine-to-five, bills, and pretending we know what we’re doing.”

“Speak for yourself,” Lila quipped, popping a gummy bear into her mouth. “I’m thriving in my chaos era.”

Y/N snorted, and Harper rolled her eyes with an affectionate grin. Lila was the wild card of the group, always coming up with unpredictable ideas. And she didn’t disappoint tonight.

“You know what we should do?” Lila suddenly said, sitting up straighter. “Karaoke.”

“Yes!” Harper exclaimed, clapping her hands. “Oh my God, yes. Do you still have that mic we bought for New Year’s Eve?”

Y/N groaned dramatically, but her smile betrayed her fake reluctance. “You mean the mic that nearly got us evicted? Of course, I still have it.”

Lila grinned wickedly. “Perfect. Let’s wake up the entire building with our stunning renditions of 2000s throwbacks.”

Without waiting for further approval, Lila dashed to the hall closet and pulled out the karaoke mic, triumphantly waving it in the air. Harper grabbed her phone, already scrolling through a playlist.

“You’re starting,” Harper declared, pointing the mic at Y/N.

“What? No!” Y/N laughed, holding her hands up defensively. “I’m not ready!”

“Too bad,” Lila said, shoving the mic into Y/N’s hands. “You can’t escape destiny. Pick your song.”

Y/N sighed theatrically before smirking. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when your ears bleed.”

As Y/N queued up Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson, the room erupted in cheers. The first few notes played, and soon enough, Y/N was belting out the lyrics with unrestrained enthusiasm, her friends joining in for the chorus. It didn’t matter that they were slightly off-key; in that moment, they were superstars in their own private concert.

Wine glasses were forgotten, snacks spilled, and every lyric was sung at full volume. It was the kind of night they’d remember for years—a reminder that no matter how grown-up they pretended to be, some things never lost their magic.

The girls were in full swing, harmonizing (poorly) to “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Lila stood on the couch holding the mic as if she were performing at Madison Square Garden, while Harper played air guitar with a half-empty wine bottle. Y/N was doubled over in laughter, her cheeks aching from smiling so much.

Just as they hit the iconic, “Tell me why—” part, a loud knock echoed through the apartment, cutting through their drunken fun like a record scratch. The girls froze, their voices trailing off mid-note. Y/N straightened up, exchanging wide-eyed looks with Harper and Lila.

“Uh… did someone order pizza?” Lila whispered, her voice unsure.

“Nope,” Y/N said, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

With a mix of nerves and annoyance, Y/N padded to the door. She peered through the peephole and groaned. It was her new neighbor, Harry. She’d only exchanged a polite “hello” with him in passing, but he’d already struck her as the brooding, grumpy type.

Bracing herself, she opened the door.

There he stood: tall, disheveled hair pushed back in a lazy attempt at taming it, wearing a faded gray hoodie and black joggers. His sharp green eyes narrowed as he took in her flushed face and the muffled chaos behind her.

“Good evening,” he started, his British accent dripping with sarcasm. “I just wanted to say how much I’ve been enjoying your concert tonight. It’s like living next door to a live music venue. Only… worse.”

Y/N blinked, momentarily stunned by his dry humor. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that. We didn’t realize how loud we were being.”

Harry crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I figured. Thought I’d come over before I lost the ability to hear entirely.”

From behind her, Lila’s voice chimed in drunkenly. “Is it a noise complaint? Tell him to sing with us!”

Y/N turned and shot Lila a glare. Harper muffled a laugh.

Y/N sighed and looked back at Harry. “We’ll keep it down. Promise.”

He tilted his head, lips twitching into the faintest smirk, though his tone remained gruff. “Appreciated. Just… try not to turn it into a full-on festival.”

With that, he turned to leave, but Y/N couldn’t help herself. “You know, you could’ve just sent a passive-aggressive text or something.”

Harry glanced back over his shoulder, one brow arched. “I thought this had more impact.”

And then he was gone.

Y/N closed the door, leaning her forehead against it for a moment. When she turned around, Lila and Harper were staring at her like she’d just walked off the set of a rom-com.

“Um, who was that?” Lila asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Harry. My new neighbor,” Y/N replied, walking back to the couch.

“And Mr. Grumpy Pants is cute,” Harper added, grinning.

Y/N rolled her eyes, picking up her wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. He’s cute and cranky. Now can we please move on before you two start planning a love story?”

But the mischievous glint in her friends’ eyes told her they weren’t letting this go anytime soon.

The karaoke mic had been put away, and the girls now lounged in the cozy living room, passing a bottle of wine between them. The earlier buzz of excitement had mellowed, but the energy was still warm and lively. Lila was sprawled on the couch with her legs dangling over Harper’s lap, while Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, sipping from her glass.

“I mean, let’s just talk about him for a second,” Lila began, her voice dramatic. “The mopey neighbor with the accent? And did you see those tattoos? They were peeking out, Y/N. He’s giving mysterious bad boy energy.”

Y/N groaned, her cheeks warming instantly. “Oh my God, Lila. He was literally just here to tell us to shut up.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Harper chimed in, grinning. “He has that whole ‘I’m grumpy but secretly charming’ vibe. Like, did you see the way he smirked when he made that little joke?”

Y/N tried to hide her flustered reaction by taking another sip of wine, but she couldn’t stop the blush creeping up her neck. She’d noticed too—his smirk, his sharp jawline, the tattoos curling up his forearm, just barely visible under his hoodie sleeves. She’d noticed everything.

“I mean, he’s okay, I guess,” Y/N mumbled, keeping her tone nonchalant.

“Okay?” Lila shot up, nearly spilling her wine. “You’re lying. You’re the worst liar ever.”

“Shut up,” Y/N said, laughing as she buried her face in her hands. “Fine, he’s cute. So what? He’s also my neighbor, and he’s probably annoyed with me forever now.”

“He’s not annoyed,” Harper said, nudging her with her foot. “If he were, he wouldn’t have made the effort to come over himself. He would’ve sent an email to management or something. He wanted an excuse to see you.”

“Right,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “Because nothing’s more attractive than a drunk girl singing Backstreet Boys at full volume.”

“Exactly!” Lila exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “You’re memorable. He’ll never forget you now.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Harper said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “But I bet he thinks you’re cute too.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed deeper, and she quickly changed the subject. But as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the image of Harry standing in her doorway, his messy hair, his smirk, and those tattoos. Maybe her friends weren’t entirely wrong.

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Y/N’s apartment, illuminating the chaos left behind from the night before. Wine glasses, half-eaten snacks, and the abandoned karaoke mic were scattered around the living room. The girls were tangled up in blankets, sprawled across the couch and the floor like a scene from a sitcom.

Y/N was the first to stir, groaning as she rubbed her eyes and sat up. Harper was curled up on the couch with a throw pillow over her head, while Lila lay on the floor in a makeshift nest of cushions, one arm dramatically draped over her face.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Y/N teased, nudging Lila with her foot.

Lila groaned. “Why are you awake? It’s illegal to be this alive right now.”

Harper peeked out from under her pillow, her voice muffled. “What time is it? Do we even have the energy to exist today?”

“Barely,” Y/N replied, standing and stretching. “But I’m starving, so I’m making breakfast. Come help me.”

Harper and Lila grumbled but eventually dragged themselves up and into the kitchen, where Y/N was already cracking eggs into a bowl. Together, they whipped up a chaotic but delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, and a mountain of coffee.

The girls sat around the small dining table, eating in comfortable silence at first. Then Lila broke the quiet with a wicked grin.

“So… Harry.”

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, covering her face. “Not again.”

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Lila said, smirking. “Next time we do this, we should make it even louder. Really make him come back over.”

Harper snorted into her coffee. “Yes! Like, full-blown karaoke night but with amps and disco lights.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “You two are the worst.”

“But you love us,” Harper said, nudging her with an elbow.

After breakfast, the girls cleaned up and packed their things before heading out. Harper hugged Y/N tightly. “We definitely need to do this again.”

Lila nodded enthusiastically. “Louder next time. You know, for research purposes.”

Y/N shook her head, laughing as she walked them to the door. “You’re both insane, but I love you. Drive safe.”

Once they were gone, Y/N flopped onto the couch and opened their group chat. Almost immediately, messages started flooding in.

Lila: Next sleepover, let’s bring a fog machine. If Harry shows up, we’ll just act like it’s a concert.

Harper: Or we could rent a spotlight. Make it an event

Y/N: You guys are unbelievable. No more wine for you next time.

Lila: Admit it, you want him to show up again.

Y/N: …maybe.

Harper: KNEW IT.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her phone, her cheeks warming yet again. As ridiculous as her friends were, they weren’t entirely wrong.

The day passed in a blur of cleaning and tidying as Y/N tried to get her apartment back to its usual organized state. By the time the sun started to dip low in the sky, the chaos from the night before had been erased, leaving her apartment looking like a picture of calm domesticity. Feeling accomplished, Y/N decided to check her mailbox before settling in for a quiet evening.

She padded down to the mailroom in her building, dressed in a casual but presentable outfit—high-waisted jeans and a simple white top. As she rifled through the usual junk mail and a couple of bills, the sound of someone entering the room caught her attention.

Glancing to the side, she saw Harry walking in, his hoodie replaced by a fitted black t-shirt and dark jeans. His tattoos were on full display now—intricate designs that wound up his forearm and disappeared under the sleeve of his shirt. He barely glanced at her as he moved to his mailbox, unlocking it with practiced ease.

Y/N swallowed her nerves and decided to seize the moment. It was better to make a proper introduction now than to let the awkwardness from last night linger. Turning slightly toward him, she cleared her throat.

“Hey, neighbor,” she began, keeping her tone light. “Figured I should introduce myself officially now that I’m not, you know, half-drunk and screaming karaoke at midnight. I’m Y/N.”

Harry turned his head, his green eyes locking onto hers. His expression was neutral, almost unreadable, as he gave her a quick once-over. “Harry,” he said simply, his voice low and clipped.

Y/N bit back a grin, determined not to let his gruff demeanor throw her off. “Nice to meet you, Harry. Sorry again about last night. I promise we don’t usually host impromptu concerts. Unless, of course, you’re a fan of boy band throwbacks.”

Harry let out a soft exhale that could’ve been a laugh—or just a sigh. “I’ll survive.”

Encouraged by the hint of amusement, Y/N decided to keep the conversation going. “You know, if you’re ever feeling nostalgic, you’re welcome to join us. We could use a fourth member for our extremely off-key girl group.”

Harry’s lips twitched slightly, but his expression remained mostly stoic. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Y/N tilted her head, giving him a mock-serious look. “You’re really hard to read, you know that? Most people at least chuckle at my jokes.”

Harry glanced at her, his gaze steady and calm. “Maybe I’m just not most people.”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. There was something almost challenging in his tone, but it wasn’t harsh. If anything, it piqued her curiosity even more.

“Well, Harry,” she said finally, flashing him a bright smile. “Challenge accepted. I’ll make you laugh one of these days.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead closing his mailbox and tucking the letters under his arm. As he moved to leave, he paused, looking over his shoulder.

“We’ll see about that.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Y/N standing there with her stack of mail and a strange mix of frustration and intrigue swirling in her chest. One thing was for sure—Harry might be grumpy, but he was far from boring.

As soon as Y/N got back to her apartment, she tossed her mail onto the counter and grabbed her phone, already smirking to herself. She opened the group chat with Harper and Lila, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

Y/N:

Guess who I just ran into in the mailroom?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with replies.

Lila:

Was it… oh, I don’t know… Mr. Grumpy Hot Neighbor?

Harper:

Harry! Tell us everything right now.

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly, typing out her reply.

Y/N:

Yes, it was Harry. I introduced myself properly. You know, as a fully functional adult and not a drunken mess.

Lila:

And? Did he swoon? Did he drop all his mail and propose on the spot?

Harper:

Or at least crack a smile?

Y/N sighed and leaned back against the counter, smirking to herself as she typed.

Y/N:

Absolutely not. He was… well, Harry. Polite but distant. He might’ve almost smiled, but I can’t be sure.

Lila:

Ugh, he’s really sticking to the mysterious moody thing. It’s so hot. What did you say to him?

Y/N:

I told him he was hard to read and said I’d make him laugh one day.

Harper:

Bold move, I love it. What did he say?

Y/N:

He said, ‘We’ll see about that.’

Lila:

STOP. That’s basically flirting.

Harper:

Right? That’s flirty! Subtle, broody flirting.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. It wasn’t flirting. He’s just… like that.

Lila:

Y/N, this is your rom-com moment, and you’re living in denial. Grumpy guy + sunshine girl is literally a trope for a reason.

Harper:

Exactly. Next step: get him to join us for karaoke.

Y/N:

Oh, sure, because he definitely seems like the kind of guy who wants to sing ‘Toxic’ with us.

Lila:

You never know. Maybe he has a secret karaoke voice that’ll blow us all away.

Y/N laughed to herself, shaking her head. Her friends were relentless, but she couldn’t deny that their enthusiasm made her smile. As much as she tried to brush off the encounter, she couldn’t stop replaying it in her head—the way Harry’s green eyes lingered just a second too long, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips. 

It had been a couple of weeks since Y/N’s encounter with Harry in the mailroom, and she’d managed to push him to the back of her mind. Between work, friends, and her usual routine, she hadn’t bumped into him in the halls or around the building. Life went on, and the memory of his grumpy smirk became just another amusing anecdote to share with Harper and Lila.

Until one night.

Y/N was jolted awake by the blaring sound of the fire alarm. Disoriented and groggy, she stumbled out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it over her pajama tank top. She shoved her feet into sneakers, grabbed her phone, and headed for the door. The hallway was chaotic, filled with neighbors in various states of sleepiness and confusion, all heading for the exits.

Once outside, Y/N joined the crowd of residents gathering on the sidewalk. The chilly night air bit at her skin, and she crossed her arms to keep warm. She craned her neck, scanning the crowd to see if there was anyone she knew—until her eyes landed on a familiar figure leaning against a lamppost.

It was Harry. His hair was a mess, sticking out in every direction, and he wore a hoodie over loose sweatpants. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, which, to be fair, he probably had. His expression was pure exhaustion, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he yawned.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. She made her way over, her footsteps crunching on the gravel. “Hey, neighbor,” she said, coming to a stop next to him.

Harry turned his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly as he registered her. “Y/N,” he said, his voice rough from sleep. “This is… unexpected.” He waved his hand around. 

She grinned, shifting her weight to one foot. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. But hey, at least it’s the fire alarms being obnoxiously loud this time and not me.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and for a second, she thought she’d finally gotten him to crack a smile. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” he asked dryly.

“Never,” Y/N replied, a teasing lilt in her voice. “It’s too good of a story.”

Harry exhaled softly, almost like a laugh, and shook his head. “Fair enough.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as a fire truck pulled up and a couple of firefighters headed inside to investigate. The air was crisp and carried a faint chill, but Y/N barely noticed. She glanced at Harry out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you think it’s an actual fire?” she asked.

“Doubt it,” he said, crossing his arms. “Probably just someone burning their midnight snack.”

“Sounds like a riveting Saturday night,” Y/N joked, earning another small exhale from him.

“Tell me about it,” he muttered, glancing down at her. His gaze lingered for a moment, and Y/N could feel her cheeks warm, though she tried to play it cool.

“Well,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “If it turns out to be a drill, I’m demanding a formal apology from management for ruining my beauty sleep.”

Harry’s lips quirked, just enough for her to notice. “I’m sure they’ll get right on that.”

For the first time, standing outside in the middle of the night with Harry didn’t feel awkward or forced. It was easy, natural even, despite his perpetually tired and broody demeanor. Maybe it was the ridiculousness of the situation, or maybe her persistence was finally wearing him down.

Before either of them could say more, a firefighter emerged from the building, shouting to the crowd that it was a false alarm. People groaned, some laughing as they shuffled back toward the entrance.

Harry pushed off the lamppost and looked at Y/N. “Guess that’s our cue.”

“Looks like it,” she said. “Catch you later, Harry.”

He nodded, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Night, Y/N.”

As she headed back to her apartment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a small spark of satisfaction. Sure, he was still grumpy, but she was getting closer to breaking through. And honestly, she didn’t mind the challenge.

By the time Y/N woke up the next morning, she had already drafted the text she knew Harper and Lila would demand. Still half-asleep, she grabbed her phone and opened their group chat, typing out the full story in detail.

Y/N:

So… guess who I bumped into at 3 a.m. when the fire alarm went off?

It didn’t take long for her phone to buzz with rapid-fire responses.

Harper:

Oh my God. HARRY?

Lila:

Please tell me you were both standing there in your PJs like the meet-cute of the century.

Y/N:

 No, it wasn’t a meet-cute. We just talked. Very normal. Nothing groundbreaking.

Harper:

What did you talk about?

Y/N:

I made a joke about how this time it wasn’t me being loud, it was the fire alarm.

Lila:

YES. Classic Y/N. What did he say?

Y/N:

He just… smirked. Or sighed. I’m honestly not sure anymore. He’s so hard to read.

Harper:

Smirking counts as flirting. I’m logging it.

Lila:

Definitely flirting. He wouldn’t have smirked if he wasn’t secretly interested. Men don’t waste smirks on people they don’t like.

Y/N:

Or he was just tired and didn’t care enough to argue.

Harper:

Nope. Not buying it. He’s interested. He’s just grumpy interested.

Lila:

Exactly! Brooding types like him don’t wear their feelings on their sleeves, but trust me, he’s intrigued. You just need to keep working on him.

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Y/N:

You two are absolutely ridiculous. We talked for five minutes, tops. Nothing more, nothing less.

Harper:

Sure, keep telling yourself that.

Lila:

Face it, Y/N. This is your slow-burn romance, and we are here for it. We’re already planning the playlist for your wedding.

Y/N:

Oh my God. I can’t with you two.

Despite her protests, Y/N couldn’t stop replaying the interaction in her mind—the way his eyes lingered on her, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Harper and Lila were reading too much into it… weren’t they?

Shaking her head, Y/N tossed her phone onto the couch. She had no intention of indulging their wild theories. But deep down, a small, stubborn part of her couldn’t help but wonder. 

Y/N lay in bed, staring at the faint shadows cast by her bedside lamp on the ceiling. The city sounds outside her window were faint but constant—cars in the distance, the occasional murmur of voices. She’d been tossing and turning for what felt like hours, her brain refusing to shut off.

It didn’t help that every time she closed her eyes, all she could think about was Harry.

It wasn’t intentional, or at least that’s what she told herself. She’d been trying to push him out of her mind all day, but now, in the stillness of the night, his image seemed to surface unbidden. The way his messy hair stuck out when she’d seen him by the mailboxes. The tattoos peeking out from under his shirt sleeves, the intricate designs winding across his arms like a story she desperately wanted to read.

And then there was his face—sharp jawline, green eyes that seemed to pierce through her defenses, and that faint smirk he’d given her last night when she’d cracked her fire alarm joke. It wasn’t a full smile, but it had been enough to spark something in her. Something she couldn’t quite shake.

She groaned, rolling onto her side and burying her face in her pillow. “Get a grip,” she muttered to herself.

But it was no use. She kept thinking about the way his voice sounded—low, calm, almost soothing in its quiet confidence. The way he seemed perpetually unimpressed but not unkind, like he was holding back a part of himself from the world. And the way, despite all that grumpiness, she felt drawn to him.

The worst part was that she barely even knew him. A few brief encounters, a handful of words exchanged—it wasn’t enough to warrant this level of overthinking. And yet, here she was, wide awake at 2 a.m., her thoughts spinning in circles around a guy who probably wasn’t thinking about her at all.

She sighed, flipping onto her back again and staring at the ceiling. “You’re losing it, Y/N,” she whispered into the dark.

But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself—counting sheep, replaying her favorite movie in her head, anything—her mind kept drifting back to Harry. How frustratingly attractive he was. How much she wanted to figure him out. And how, for reasons she couldn’t explain, she kind of liked the challenge.

The next afternoon, Y/N tied her apron around her waist and stepped onto the floor of the bustling Italian restaurant where she worked. The warm scent of garlic, fresh basil, and baking bread filled the air as the sounds of clinking silverware and cheerful conversations hummed around her. It was her favorite kind of shift—steady but not overwhelming, just busy enough to keep her energized.

She loved being a server. There was something satisfying about knowing the menu by heart, from the way the chef perfectly folded the handmade ravioli to the rich, velvety tiramisu that always left customers raving. She enjoyed the rhythm of it all: taking orders, making guests laugh, weaving between tables like she was part of a well-rehearsed dance.

By the time her shift ended, the sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden glow over the city streets. Y/N slipped her bag over her shoulder, said goodbye to her coworkers, and began her short walk home.

The evening was warm, the kind of weather that made her glad she’d chosen this neighborhood to live in. She liked the convenience of being close to work, the charm of the old brick buildings, and the occasional vendor selling flowers or roasted nuts on the sidewalk.

But as she rounded the last corner toward her apartment building, the sky darkened suddenly. Heavy clouds rolled in overhead, and before she could process what was happening, the first fat drops of rain began to fall.

“Seriously?” Y/N muttered, looking up at the sky as if it might offer her an explanation. Within seconds, the light drizzle turned into a full-on downpour. She didn’t have an umbrella, of course—it had been sunny when she left for work—and now she was too far from the restaurant to go back.

She quickened her pace, pulling her bag closer to her body to shield it from the rain. Her hair was already plastered to her forehead, and her clothes clung to her as the rain soaked through. She groaned in frustration but couldn’t help laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

By the time her apartment building came into view, she was drenched. She jogged the last stretch, her sneakers splashing in puddles, and darted toward the lobby entrance. As she reached for the door, it opened from the inside—and there, standing in the doorway, was Harry.

Of course, it was Harry.

He was holding a takeout bag in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. His green eyes widened slightly when he saw her, taking in her rain-soaked appearance.

“Rough night?” he asked, his voice dry but laced with faint amusement.

Y/N brushed a wet strand of hair out of her face, shaking water from her arms. “You could say that. Apparently, the weather decided I needed a shower.”

Harry stepped back, holding the door open for her. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

“Thanks for the observation,” Y/N said with a wry smile as she stepped inside, water pooling around her feet. “I hadn’t noticed.”

He smirked, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary before he nodded toward the elevators. “You should probably get upstairs before you flood the lobby.”

“Wow, you’re so thoughtful,” she teased, her sarcasm barely masking the warmth in her voice.

Harry didn’t reply, but his lips twitched like he was holding back a comment. He stepped aside, letting her pass, and as Y/N headed toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder. He was still standing by the door, his attention now on the rain outside, but she could’ve sworn she caught him sneaking a glance at her as she walked away.

Y/N stepped into her apartment, water dripping onto the floor as she kicked off her soaked sneakers. She stripped off her rain-soaked clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket before heading straight to the bathroom. The hot water of the shower was bliss, washing away the chill of the rain and the lingering frustration of getting caught in it. By the time she stepped out, wrapped in a fluffy towel, her skin was warm and her mind was clearer.

Slipping into her favorite pair of soft pajamas—shorts and an oversized t-shirt—she towel-dried her hair and grabbed her phone from the counter. She hadn’t checked it since leaving work, and the screen lit up with a few notifications. Most were unimportant, but one text made her freeze.

Unknown Number:

Hey, it’s Harry. Got your number from the resident book. Hope that’s okay. I, uh, ordered way too much food. If you’re not busy and don’t mind eating with someone who’s terrible at small talk, you’re welcome to join me.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry had texted her? She stared at the message, rereading it a couple of times, unsure what to make of it. The grumpy, brooding neighbor had gone out of his way to invite her over for dinner?

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard as she thought about what to say. She could easily come up with an excuse, blame the rain, or even politely decline. But something about his message—how he’d gone through the trouble of looking up her number and even made a self-deprecating joke—made her hesitate.

Finally, she started typing.

Y/N:

Hey! I’m surprised you didn’t mention how loud I was running through the lobby earlier. I’d love to join, but fair warning: I’m in my pajamas. I’ll bring wine to make up for it.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and immediately got up to rummage through her small wine rack. She picked out a bottle of red, grabbed her favorite corkscrew, and texted him again.

Y/N:

Give me five minutes to make myself look less like a wet dog.

His response came almost instantly.

Harry:

I wouldn’t have said anything about the lobby, but now that you’ve brought it up… five minutes works. Apartment 4D.

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head. She quickly towel-dried her hair a little more, tossed it into a loose bun, and grabbed the wine. As she stood by her door, nerves fluttered in her stomach, but she pushed them aside.

Whatever this was—neighborly dinner, an olive branch, or something else—she was curious enough to find out.

Y/N stepped out of her apartment, the bottle of wine in hand, and made her way to the elevator. As she descended a floor, her nerves started to tingle, though she shook them off. It wasn’t a big deal. It was just dinner with her neighbor. Her very attractive, grumpy neighbor with tattoos and a British accent. Nothing to overthink at all.

When she reached Harry’s door, she raised her hand to knock—but before she could, the door swung open. Harry stood there, leaning casually against the frame, one eyebrow raised.

“I could hear you coming down the hall,” he said, his tone dry but his lips twitching into a faint smirk. “Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it?”

Y/N let out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take that as your way of saying you’re happy to see me.”

“Something like that,” he replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked in, glancing around as she entered. Harry’s apartment was similar in layout to hers but had an entirely different vibe. The walls were painted a deep, moody gray, with shelves lined with books, records, and a few small plants that looked suspiciously well cared for. A guitar rested in the corner by the window, and the faint smell of takeout wafted from the small kitchen.

“Nice place,” she said, setting the wine on the counter. “Very… broody chic. Fits you.”

Harry arched a brow as he closed the door. “Broody chic? Is that a compliment?”

“Depends how you take it,” Y/N shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, muttering something under his breath as he moved toward the kitchen. “Hope you’re hungry. I may have overestimated how much I can eat on my own.”

She followed him, glancing at the spread on the counter. There were containers of what looked like Thai food—pad thai, green curry, fried rice, and spring rolls. Definitely enough for two, if not three.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said, grabbing a spring roll. “Planning on feeding the whole building?”

“Only the loudest resident,” he said, smirking again.

She gave him a playful glare before grabbing plates from the counter and handing him one. “Lucky for you, I came prepared,” she said, holding up the wine. “This should balance things out.”

As they settled at the small table, Y/N couldn’t help but notice how relaxed Harry seemed. He wasn’t smiling, not really, but there was something softer about him tonight. Less guarded. And as they started eating, trading sarcastic comments and occasional small talk, she realized she didn’t mind the challenge of cracking through his tough exterior one bit.

Harry handed Y/N two wine glasses, their fingers brushing briefly as she took them. He didn’t say anything, but his lips moved slightly as if he was trying not to smirk. Y/N poured the wine, filling each glass just enough before sliding one over to him.

Meanwhile, he plated the food, carefully dividing the dishes between two plates. His movements were deliberate, almost methodical, and Y/N found herself watching him for a moment before realizing what she was doing. Shaking herself out of it, she grabbed her glass and followed him to the bar counter.

They sat side by side, the warm glow of the pendant light above them casting a cozy atmosphere. Y/N took a sip of her wine, her gaze flicking to Harry as he started eating in silence.

For a while, she stayed quiet, enjoying the food and the unspoken rhythm of their shared meal. But her curiosity got the better of her. Setting her glass down, she turned toward him slightly, resting her elbow on the counter.

“So,” she began, her tone light but probing, “why are you always so grumpy?”

Harry paused mid-bite, his fork hovering over his plate as he looked at her. His green eyes narrowed slightly, not in anger but as if he were trying to decide how serious she was.

“Grumpy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, grumpy,” she said, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “You know, the whole emo, barely-smiling, ‘I don’t have time for your nonsense’ vibe you’ve got going on. Is it like… your thing?”

Harry leaned back slightly, taking a slow sip of his wine as he considered her question. “Maybe I’m not grumpy,” he said finally, his voice calm. “Maybe you’re just too… cheerful.”

“Cheerful?” she echoed, laughing softly. “That’s your explanation? I’m cheerful, so that automatically makes you grumpy?”

“Something like that,” he said, his lips quirking into the faintest smirk.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help smiling. “You’re deflecting.”

He raised his glass, meeting her gaze over the rim as he took another sip. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” she pressed, leaning in slightly. “There’s got to be a reason. I mean, you’re not actuallymiserable all the time, are you?”

Harry sighed, setting his glass down and leaning his forearms on the counter. For a moment, he seemed to be debating whether or not to answer. Finally, he shrugged.

“I’m not grumpy,” he said, his voice quieter. “I just… don’t see the point in pretending all the time. People put on this front like everything’s great, but most of the time, it’s not. I’m just… honest about it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something unspoken but heavy, like he was revealing more than he intended.

“Well,” she said softly, “for what it’s worth, I don’t think being happy is the same as pretending. And I’m not pretending.”

Harry glanced at her, his expression unreadable. “I noticed,” he said simply.

Her cheeks warmed, and for a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between them. Then Y/N picked up her glass and raised it toward him.

“To being honest,” she said with a small smile.

Harry’s eyes flicked to her glass before he picked up his own, clinking it against hers. “To being honest,” he echoed.

And for the first time that evening, his smirk softened into something closer to a smile.

Harry swirled the wine in his glass, staring at the deep red liquid for a moment before setting it down and looking at Y/N. His expression was more open now, his usual guarded demeanor softened.

“You seem nice enough,” he said, his tone casual but sincere. “I could use a friend around here.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the admission. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. Then a warm smile spread across her face.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” she said, her voice light with humor. “I thought for sure you hated me after the whole karaoke fiasco.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his lips twitching in amusement. “Hated you? No. Annoyed, maybe. But hate’s a strong word.”

“Good to know,” Y/N said, laughing softly. “Because I was convinced you’d written me off as the world’s loudest neighbor.”

“I’ll admit,” Harry said, smirking now, “the karaoke was… a lot. But it’s hard to hate someone who sings ‘I Want It That Way’ with that much enthusiasm.”

Y/N covered her face with her hands, laughing harder. “Oh my God, I can’t believe you remember the song. That’s so embarrassing.”

“It’s unforgettable,” he said with mock seriousness, taking another sip of wine.

When her laughter died down, Y/N looked at him, her expression softening. “For what it’s worth, I’d be happy to be your friend. You don’t seem as scary as you pretend to be.”

“Scary?” Harry echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah,” she teased. “You’ve got the whole ‘grumpy lone wolf’ thing going on. It’s a little intimidating.”

Harry shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his face. “I’m not scary.”

“No,” Y/N said, grinning. “You’re not. You’re just… Harry.”

He didn’t respond right away, but his gaze lingered on her for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. Finally, he nodded, his tone soft but certain. “Yeah. Just Harry.”

As they continued eating, the conversation grew lighter, the initial tension between them fading into something comfortable. By the time they finished their meal, Y/N realized that beneath Harry’s gruff exterior was someone she genuinely wanted to know better. And judging by the way his smirk had softened into something warmer, she suspected he felt the same.

After finishing their plates, Harry leaned back in his chair, resting his forearm on the bar counter as he glanced at Y/N. There was a comfortable silence between them, one she hadn’t expected when she first showed up at his door.

“Thanks for coming over,” he said finally, his tone quieter but sincere. “I don’t usually… do this.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, swirling her wine in her glass. “What? Order too much food or invite people over?”

He smirked faintly, shaking his head. “The second one. I’m not exactly the ‘neighborly dinner’ type.”

“Well, I feel special then,” she teased, tilting her head at him. “Although, if you’re not usually this social, why’d you invite me? I mean, not that I’m complaining.”

Harry shrugged, glancing down at his glass. “You seemed… different. I don’t know. Most people I meet just seem fake, like they’re putting on a show. But you’re…” He paused, searching for the right word. “Real.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty of his words. “Oh,” she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips. “Well, thanks. I think.”

“I mean it,” Harry added, looking at her directly now. “You’re… not what I expected when I moved here. In a good way.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, and she tried to play it off with humor. “Careful, Harry. You’re starting to sound like you actually like me.”

“Don’t push it,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes were softer than usual.

They fell into another comfortable silence, sipping their wine and letting the moment stretch out. Y/N felt herself relax more with each passing second, realizing how easy it was to be around him now that some of his walls had come down.

After a moment, she broke the quiet. “You know, for someone who claims not to be social, you’re pretty good company.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she said, her grin widening. “You should let yourself be social more often. You might surprise yourself.”

He scoffed softly, shaking his head. “One step at a time.”

They shared a small laugh, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point. Whatever Harry had been holding back before, he was letting her in now, even if only a little. It felt… nice.

Eventually, she glanced at her phone and realized how late it had gotten. “I should probably head back,” she said, setting her empty wine glass down. “I’ve already overstayed my welcome.”

Harry stood as she got up, shaking his head. “You haven’t. But… thanks for coming. I mean it.”

She smiled, grabbing the bottle of wine. “Anytime, Harry.”

As she walked to the door, he followed her, leaning casually against the frame as she turned back to face him. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, a softness she wasn’t used to seeing from him.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice lighter now.

“Night, Y/N,” he replied, his smirk returning.

She headed back to her apartment, her heart unexpectedly lighter. Maybe Harry wasn’t as grumpy as he seemed—or maybe she was just getting used to it. Either way, she found herself smiling as she closed her door behind her. And for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t overthinking anything.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the sunlight filtering through her blinds and a faint smile lingering on her lips. The night before with Harry had been… unexpected, but not in a bad way. She stretched, grabbed her phone from the nightstand, and immediately opened her group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

So, guess what? Harry invited me over for dinner last night.

It didn’t take long for her phone to explode with notifications.

Lila:

WHAT. DETAILS NOW.

Harper:

DID YOU SLEEP WITH HIM?!

Y/N rolled her eyes, her cheeks warming despite being alone.

Y/N:

No, I didn’t sleep with him. Calm down.

Lila:

Boring. But continue.

Harper:

Okay, but like, did it feel like it was going there?

Y/N:

No! It wasn’t like that. He said he had too much food and could use a friend, so I brought wine, and we had dinner. That’s it.

Lila:

You brought wine. That’s a date move.

Harper:

Right? Totally a date.

Y/N:

It wasn’t a date. We ate at his bar counter, talked a little, and that’s all. But…

Lila:

BUT WHAT?!

Harper:

Spill, Y/N. Don’t make us beg.

Y/N sighed, biting her lip as she typed out her next message.

Y/N:

Okay, fine. I wouldn’t mind if something happened, but it’s not like I know much about him. I don’t even know what he does for work.

Lila:

Oh my God. You want to bang the mysterious, tattooed neighbor. I KNEW IT.

Harper:

This is your grumpy/sunshine romance, and we are living for it.

Y/N:

You two are ridiculous. I’m just saying he’s attractive, okay? That doesn’t mean anything’s going to happen.

Lila:

It’ll happen. The sexual tension alone is probably unbearable.

Harper:

Agreed. You just need to ask him questions about himself. What he does for work, what his favorite food is, if he’s single—

Lila:

Definitely ask the last one. For research purposes.

Y/N groaned, shaking her head but smiling despite herself.

Y/N:

You two are impossible. But fine, if the opportunity comes up, I’ll try to find out more about him. Happy?

Harper:

Ecstatic.

Lila:

Can’t wait to hear how this unfolds. We’re already planning the wedding playlist.

Y/N laughed, tossing her phone onto the bed. Her friends were relentless, but they weren’t wrong about one thing—she was curious about Harry. And as much as she tried to deny it, she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… or seeing where this strange connection between them might lead.

Later that month Y/N walked into her apartment after a long day, expecting the usual cozy warmth to greet her. Instead, an icy chill hit her the moment she stepped inside. She frowned, rubbing her arms and heading straight for the thermostat. She fiddled with it for a minute, but no matter what she did, the heater refused to turn on.

“Great,” she muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t unbearably cold outside, but inside her apartment, it felt like a freezer.

With no other options, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She didn’t know many people in the building—just Harry, really. And as much as she hesitated, her fingers hovered over his name before she finally sent a text.

Y/N:

Hey, random question. Do you happen to have a small heater or something I can borrow? My heater’s broken, and it’s freezing in here.

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Harry:

Why don’t you just stay here tonight? I’ve got heat, and I don’t own a portable heater.

Y/N stared at the message, her heart skipping a beat. She hadn’t expected that. Borrowing something was one thing, but staying at his place? She hesitated, her fingers tapping lightly against the screen. Before she could overthink it, she typed out a response.

Y/N:

Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude.

His reply was quick.

Harry:

You’re not intruding. Besides, it’s better than you freezing to death in your apartment. Bring whatever you need.

She bit her lip, a mix of nerves and curiosity swirling in her chest. Finally, she grabbed a bag and threw in some essentials—pajamas, a toothbrush, and a few other things—before bundling up and heading out.

When she reached his door, she knocked softly. It opened almost immediately, and there was Harry, leaning against the frame with his usual calm demeanor.

“Figured you’d take me up on the offer,” he said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Yeah, well, hypothermia didn’t sound appealing,” Y/N replied with a small smile, brushing past him into the warmth of his apartment.

As she set her bag down by the couch, she glanced at him. “Thanks for this, by the way. I really appreciate it.”

He shrugged, closing the door. “No problem. It’s just one night.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wow, Harry. That almost sounded like you’re happy to have me here.”

He gave her a dry look but didn’t respond, instead gesturing toward the couch. “You can take the couch if you want, or I can grab some extra blankets for the guest room.”

She looked at the couch, then back at him. “Guest room? You have a guest room?”

“Barely,” he said with a shrug. “It’s more of a storage room, but there’s a bed in there.”

“Well, as long as it’s warmer than my apartment, I’ll take it.”

Harry nodded, heading toward the hallway. “I’ll grab some blankets.”

As Harry disappeared down the hallway to grab blankets, Y/N called after him, her voice light and teasing. “By the way, I brought some wine as a thank-you! You know, for saving me from my frozen wasteland of an apartment.”

She heard him chuckle faintly, his voice drifting back from the other room. “Thoughtful of you. What kind?”

“Red. A classic, nothing too fancy,” she replied, smirking as she started to take the bottle out of her bag. “Figured you’d prefer something a little understated, given your whole ‘mysterious and broody’ vibe.”

Harry reappeared in the doorway, carrying a thick blanket over one shoulder. He raised an eyebrow at her. “I think you enjoy calling me broody a little too much.”

“Well, it fits,” she shot back, grinning. “Speaking of which, I realized something earlier—I don’t even know what you do for work. So, enlighten me, oh mysterious one. What is it that you do?”

Harry paused for a moment, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I own an art gallery,” he said simply, setting the blanket on the couch.

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “You own an art gallery?”

“Yeah,” he said, leaning casually against the back of the couch. “Small place over in Silver Lake. Nothing flashy, just local artists and smaller exhibitions.”

She stared at him, her curiosity piqued. “I didn’t see that coming.”

“What did you see coming?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, laughing softly. “Something more… I don’t know, corporate? Like sitting at a desk all day and brooding at spreadsheets.”

Harry actually laughed at that, a low, warm sound that surprised her. “Sorry to disappoint. No spreadsheets involved.”

“No, it’s not disappointing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “It’s just… unexpected. I mean, you own an art gallery. That’s cool. Artistic and grumpy? You’re full of surprises, Harry.”

He shook his head, but there was a faint warmth in his expression, like her enthusiasm had caught him off guard. “It’s just a business.”

“Just a business?” she repeated, tilting her head. “Don’t undersell yourself. That’s impressive.”

He looked at her for a moment, his gaze steady. “Thanks.”

They fell into a brief silence, and Y/N felt the air shift slightly. It wasn’t awkward—if anything, it felt… comfortable. She gestured to the wine. “So, should we open this or what?”

Harry nodded, stepping into the kitchen to grab two glasses. “Why not? You’re my guest, after all.”

As he poured the wine, Y/N couldn’t help but think that for someone who seemed so guarded at first, Harry was slowly becoming an open book—one she was eager to keep reading.

Y/N leaned against the counter, swirling her glass of wine as she watched Harry pour his own. “So, how did you end up owning an art gallery?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her. “I mean, that’s not exactly the most common career path.”

Harry took a sip of his wine, his gaze thoughtful as he set the glass down. “I’ve always loved art. Painting, sketching… that sort of thing. But it’s not exactly the easiest way to make a living.”

Y/N nodded, understanding the struggle. “So, the gallery was a way to stay involved in the art world?”

“Something like that,” he said, leaning his hip against the counter. “I came into some money after my mom passed a few years ago. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was enough to make me think about what I really wanted to do. I didn’t want to sit in an office or work for someone else. I wanted something that felt… personal. The gallery felt like the right choice.”

“That’s incredible,” Y/N said, her voice soft. “I mean, turning something you love into a business? Not many people can say they’ve done that.”

Harry shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “It has its challenges, but I don’t regret it.”

Y/N smiled at him, feeling a new layer of respect for her neighbor. After a moment, he tilted his head, his eyes flicking to her. “What about you? What do you do?”

She hesitated, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “Oh, nothing nearly as impressive as you,” she said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m just a server. I work at an Italian restaurant a few blocks from here.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Like what?” she asked, frowning.

“Like it’s nothing. You said you’re ‘just’ a server,” he said, taking another sip of his wine. “You’re in food service, right? That’s an art in itself. Just… a different kind.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his perspective. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

He nodded, gesturing with his glass. “Think about it. You’re part of creating an experience for people. The way the food’s presented, the way you interact with customers—it’s all part of the artistry. Doesn’t matter if it’s a painting on a wall or a plate of pasta. It’s still something people connect with.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of surprise and gratitude washing over her. “That’s… actually really nice of you to say.”

“It’s true,” Harry said simply, his green eyes meeting hers. “Stop selling yourself short.”

She smiled, feeling unexpectedly lighter. “Thanks, Harry. I guess I’ll try to keep that in mind the next time someone complains about their breadsticks not being warm enough.”

He chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Breadsticks or not, it sounds like you’re good at what you do.”

Y/N sipped her wine, the corners of her lips curving up. 

Y/N swirled the wine in her glass, glancing at Harry over the rim. She hesitated for a moment, then decided to push the conversation a little further. “You know,” she began, her voice softer now, “you have a really nice way of thinking about things. The way you look at art, even food… it’s kind of impressive.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter with an amused expression. “Is that your way of saying I’m not just a grumpy neighbor?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small grin, her tone almost teasing. “But seriously, you’ve got a smart mind, Harry. You see things in a way most people don’t.”

He tilted his head slightly, his green eyes studying her as if trying to figure out her angle. “Are you flirting with me, Y/N?”

She laughed, feeling her cheeks flush slightly. “And if I was?”

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smirk, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze never leaving hers. “Then I’d say it’s about time you stopped pretending you find me intimidating.”

“I never said you intimidate me,” she shot back, her grin widening. “I said you have a grumpy vibe. Totally different.”

“Right,” he said, his tone dry but his smirk giving him away. “Good to know I’m not scaring you off.”

“Not even close,” Y/N replied, her voice confident now. She leaned her elbow on the counter, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him. “You’re not as scary as you think, Harry. In fact, I think you’re kind of… interesting.”

Harry chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

“Right back at you,” she said, her gaze warm.

For a moment, the air between them shifted. The playful banter was still there, but beneath it was something quieter, something unspoken. Y/N didn’t know what exactly was happening, but she wasn’t in a hurry to break the moment.

Harry finally set his glass down, his expression softening just slightly. “Careful, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but with a hint of amusement. “You keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”

“Maybe I do,” she said simply, holding his gaze.

The corners of his mouth twitched, and for the first time, he didn’t deflect her comment. Instead, he just looked at her, something unreadable flickering in his green eyes. Y/N felt her heartbeat quicken, but she didn’t look away.

The mood in the room shifted as Harry leaned forward, his green eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. 

He tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing as he said, "You wouldn't be able to handle me."

Her breath caught, but she wasn't about to let him have the last word.

 "Try me," she challenged, her voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Harry's eyes darkened, the playful smirk on his lips giving way to something deeper, something more raw. Slowly, deliberately, he reached out and placed his hand lightly on her throat-not gripping, just resting, his thumb brushing the edge of her jaw. The warmth of his touch made her heart race, and she felt her breath hitch as he leaned in closer.

For a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear, the only sound her own heartbeat pounding in her ears. Then, without another word, Harry closed the gap between them, capturing her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

It wasn't gentle, but it wasn't rushed either-it was deliberate, like he'd been holding himself back and was finally letting go. His lips moved against hers with a confidence that left no room for hesitation, and Y/N melted into the kiss, her hand instinctively reaching out to grip the edge of the counter for balance.

She kissed him back just as fervently, tilting her head to deepen the connection. His fingers slid from her throat to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as though he couldn't get enough of her. The heat between them was undeniable, and in that moment, nothing else mattered-not the chill of her broken heater, not the wine, not the playful banter that had led them here.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Harry's green eyes searched hers, and for once, his usual guarded expression was nowhere to be found.

"Still think I can't handle you?" Y/N whispered, her voice a little breathless but tinged with humor.

Harry smirked, his hand still lingering at the nape of her neck. 

"Guess I underestimated you," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "But l'm not done yet.”

Harry's hand slid down from Y/N's neck to her wrist, his grip firm but careful as he led her through his apartment toward his bedroom.

Her heart pounded in anticipation, her breath catching when he opened the door and gently but deliberately pushed her onto the bed.

Y/N gasped softly, propping herself up on her elbows as she looked up at him. The intensity in his green eyes made her pulse race, and the energy between them was electric, the room feeling heavier with every passing second.

Harry stepped closer, his movements slow and controlled, like he was savoring the moment.

He placed a hand on her throat again, this time with a gentle but deliberate squeeze that sent a shiver down her spine. His thumb brushed along her jawline as he leaned in, his voice low and commanding.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his tone dripping with authority and heat.

Y/N's breath hitched as she nodded slowly, unable to look away from his piercing gaze.

Her voice was caught somewhere in her throat, so she let her actions speak for her, tilting her head slightly into his touch.

Harry smirked, leaning down until his lips were just a breath away from her ear. His voice dropped even lower, a whisper that made her skin prickle with anticipation.

"I knew you would be," he murmured, his tone both teasing and possessive.

The words sent a jolt through her, and she felt her body react instinctively, her cheeks flushing as she surrendered to the moment.

Harry's lips brushed against the corner of her jaw, trailing down her neck as his hand stayed firmly but gently in place. Every movement felt deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of his attention.

Whatever control Y/N thought she had going into this was slipping fast, and the way Harry's touch consumed her made it clear—he knew it, too.

Harry paused, his intense green eyes meeting Y/N’s as he leaned over her. His hand lingered on her throat, his grip light but enough to hold her attention completely. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, didn’t move any closer. He just looked at her, his gaze softening slightly, as if he were silently asking her a question.

It wasn’t just a look—it was a pause, a chance for her to stop him if she wanted to. His eyes, usually so guarded, were now open and searching, silently asking for her consent.

Y/N’s heart raced as she looked back at him, feeling the weight of his unspoken question. She swallowed, her breath shallow as she gave him the answer he was waiting for. Slowly, purposely, she nodded.

Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile, a mixture of relief and satisfaction crossing his face. “Good,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with an edge of tenderness.

He leaned down again, his lips brushing hers as his hand on her throat tightened just slightly, enough to make her feel both safe and completely at his mercy. And as the space between them disappeared, Y/N felt herself giving in fully, her trust in him unwavering.

Harry's piercing gaze never left Y/N's face, his touch as light as a butterfly's wings. He slowly pulled her to the edge, his hands on her hips. The soft rustle of sheets filled the room as she sank into the bedding, eyes darting up to meet his.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him undoing his pants, revealing his hardness beneath. She gulped audibly as he climbed onto the bed with her, their bodies pressed together from chest to knees. His hand trailed down her side, stopping just above her thigh and giving it a gentle squeeze. His touch sent shivers of anticipation up and down her spine.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered against her earlobe, his hot breath causing goosebumps to form on her skin.

She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before whispering back, "I want you to take control."

Harry's smirk was both predatory and reassuring as he nodded once in understanding. His hand slid underneath her shirt, tracing patterns across her stomach before moving higher till it reached its destination: her lacy black bra. He palmed one of her breasts through the fabric, eliciting a moan from deep within her throat that echoed around them. His thumb circled her nipple roughly, making it harden into a tight bud underneath his touch.

His lips followed suit, kissing along her jawline and trailing down towards that erect nipple. He flicked it with his tongue teasingly while simultaneously tug

His smile was wicked as he leaned back, a glint in his eye. "Is that so?" He trailed kisses down her neck, his stubble grazing against her sensitive skin, making her shudder with pleasure. His hand slid between their bodies and brushed against her center, indulging in the wetness there. She gasped at the sensation, arching into his touch.

"You're so ready for me," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He pushed her shorts aside and slid one finger inside her slowly, feeling the tightness surrounding him. Y/N moaned softly, her hips grinding against his hand in encouragement.

Harry removed his finger, teasing her as he lowered his head to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. He growled softly against her skin, sucking gently as he began to thrust two fingers inside her in short, quick motions that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out softly, gripping the sheets beneath her as he continued his ministrations. He quickly undressed her and stared at her body. Y/N felt hot under his eyes. 

They quickly lost themselves in each other's touches. The squeak of the bedframe echoed in the room as Harry positioned himself at her entrance and pushed inside her slowly. She gasped at the fullness but welcomed it, urging him on with a nod of encouragement.

He slowed down, taking deep breaths to regain control as he braced himself above her. "Are you sure you're ready for this?" he asked hoarsely, gaze locked onto hers.

Y/N nodded fiercely, signaling him to continue. With a low growl of approval, he began moving inside her slowly but steadily, their 

bodies meeting in a dance of desire. Every thrust sent ripples of pleasure through them both, their skin slick with sweat under the dim light of the bedside lamp. The air was thick with an almost palpable tension as they moved together, the sound of their bodies meeting filling the room.

Harry's grip on her hips tightened, his rhythm becoming faster and harder, mirroring the desire that flared in his eyes. Y/N met him stroke for stroke, their eyes locked on each other as if they were the only two people in the room. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the silence beneath the duvet, broken only by their heavy breathing and soft moans.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders as she neared her climax, his name falling from her lips in a whispered plea. Without missing a beat, he quickened his pace, his cock driving into her with urgency. Their connection was intense, overwhelming, everything she could have asked for and more.

As she cried out in ecstasy beneath him, feeling her orgasm wash over her like a wave, Harry followed close behind. His body tensed as he groaned loudly, filling her with his warmth and love. Their hearts raced in unison as they finally collapsed onto each other, panting heavily but content.

He rolled off her slowly, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead before rolling onto his back beside her. 

Harry lay on his side, propped up on one elbow as he looked down at Y/N. His green eyes were softer now, a flicker of mischief dancing in them as he smirked. 

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "are you going to text your little girl chat and tell them we fucked?" Y/N let out a surprised laugh, turning her head to look at him. 

"What? No! They'd never let me live it down."

Harry raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. 

"You should. Tell them the hot, mysterious guy was really grumpy the whole time."Y/N laughed even harder, covering her face with her hand. 

"Oh, right. That'll really sell it. 'Hey, girls, just an FYl, my grumpy neighbor is not only hot but also excellent in bed. Highly recommend.'"

Harry chuckled, his grin widening. "Not bad. Make sure you add in the part about how I stayed in character the whole time-grumpy and all."

She rolled her eyes, still smiling as she nudged him playfully. "Fine. I'll throw in that your scowl is even sexier up close. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he said dryly, though the amused glint in his eyes gave him away. YN shook her head, the laughter subsiding into a warm smile.

 "You know," she said, her tone softening, "you might be mysterious and grumpy, but you're also a little cocky. Just saying."

Harry leaned down, his face inches from hers.

"Maybe," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "But I think you like it."

Her cheeks flushed as she looked up at him, biting back a grin. "Maybe I do."

"Good," he said simply, before capturing her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss that made her forget about everything else-including her friends waiting for updates in the group chat.

The week passed in a blur of near-misses and brief encounters between Y/N and Harry. She saw him in the mailroom once, where he gave her a small nod and the faintest hint of a smirk before disappearing upstairs. Another time, they crossed paths in the hallway, exchanging quick hellos but nothing more.

Neither of them brought up the night they spent together, and while Y/N tried to brush it off as a casual hookup, part of her couldn’t help but wonder if he was deliberately avoiding the topic. She didn’t want to push, figuring Harry would open up if and when he was ready.

Then, one evening, as she was curled up on her couch with a glass of wine and her laptop, her phone buzzed with a text.

Harry:

Hey. Sorry I’ve been so distant this week. The gallery is getting ready for a new showing, and it’s been… a lot.

Y/N stared at the message for a moment, her stomach fluttering. She hadn’t expected him to reach out, let alone apologize.

Y/N:

Hey, no worries. I figured you were busy. New showing sounds exciting though!

A moment later, her phone buzzed again.

Harry:

It is. Stressful, but worth it. You should come by. It’s this Saturday night. Bring your friends if you want.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Harry inviting her to his gallery? That felt… significant.

Y/N:

I’d love to. Are you sure you want me to bring my friends? They’re a little… loud.

Harry:

If they’re anything like you, I’m already prepared for chaos.

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Y/N:

Fair warning: chaos is guaranteed. But I’ll be there.

Harry:

Good. I’ll send you the details tomorrow.

Y/N set her phone down, a small smile tugging at her lips. For all of Harry’s grumpiness and guarded demeanor, this felt like his way of extending an olive branch—a step toward something more. And she couldn’t deny that the idea of seeing him in his element, at the gallery, intrigued her.

She grabbed her phone again and opened the group chat with Harper and Lila.

Y/N:

Ladies, clear your schedules for Saturday night. We’re going to an art gallery.

Predictably, her phone exploded with responses almost immediately.

Lila:

Wait, is this Harry’s gallery?

Harper:

The grumpy tattooed neighbor has an art gallery?

Y/N:

Yes. He invited me. And before you ask—no, we’re not talking about the other night.

Lila:

Boring. But fine, we’re in. Is there wine?

Harper:

And snacks?

Y/N:

I’ll ask. But behave yourselves. He already thinks I’m loud.

Lila:

Oh, honey, we’re just getting started.

Y/N laughed, already imagining the chaos her friends would inevitably bring. But deep down, she was looking forward to Saturday more than she cared to admit. 

The week crawled by as Saturday approached, each day slower than the last. Y/N found herself obsessing over small details—whether Harry would be too busy to notice her, what kind of people attended art gallery showings, and most importantly, what to wear. She wanted to look effortlessly put-together, like someone who appreciated art but wasn’t trying too hard.

By Saturday afternoon, her room was a battlefield of discarded outfits. Finally, she settled on a sleek black jumpsuit paired with a cropped denim jacket and ankle boots—stylish but not over the top. She added a few gold accessories and a swipe of lipstick before grabbing her bag and heading out the door.

On the way to Silver Lake, she picked up Harper and Lila, who were already buzzing with excitement when they climbed into the car.

“You look hot,” Lila said, eyeing her outfit. “Very ‘I like art but I’m too cool to talk about it.’”

“Thanks,” Y/N said, laughing as she started the car. “I’m going for low-key, not intimidating.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Harper chimed in, adjusting her blazer. 

Y/N glanced at them in the rearview mirror, grinning. Harper wore a bold red jumpsuit, while Lila had opted for a metallic skirt and leather jacket. 

By the time they pulled into Silver Lake, the sun had set, and the neighborhood was alive with energy. The gallery came into view, its windows glowing warmly against the evening sky. People were milling about on the sidewalk, chatting in small groups with glasses of wine in hand, while others filtered in and out of the bustling space.

“This is it,” Y/N said, parking the car and taking a deep breath.

“It’s so fancy,” Lila said, practically bouncing in her seat. “Look at all these people!”

Harper leaned forward, peering out the window. “I’m already picturing Harry brooding in a corner, glaring at anyone who talks too loud.”

“Probably,” Y/N muttered, her heart fluttering as she got out of the car. She grabbed her bag and adjusted her jacket before turning to her friends. “Okay, let’s not embarrass me too much, yeah?”

“No promises,” Harper said with a grin, looping her arm through Y/N’s as they headed toward the gallery entrance.

Inside, the space was even more vibrant. The walls were adorned with bold, eclectic pieces of art—paintings, sculptures, and mixed-media pieces that immediately drew attention. Soft music played in the background, and servers wove through the crowd with trays of wine and hors d’oeuvres. The hum of conversation filled the air, blending with the occasional burst of laughter.

Y/N’s eyes scanned the room, searching for Harry. She didn’t spot him right away, but she noticed how carefully curated the space felt—each piece arranged with intention. It was a reflection of him, she realized, meticulous and thoughtful.

“This is amazing,” Harper said, grabbing a glass of wine from a passing server. “He really knows what he’s doing.”

Lila nudged Y/N. “Speaking of, where is Mr. Grumpy Art Dealer? I want to see him in his element.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N said, glancing around again. “He’s probably—”

Before she could finish, her gaze landed on him. Harry stood near the back of the room, dressed in a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, showcasing his tattoos. He was talking to a small group of people, but his eyes flicked toward her as if he could feel her presence.

Their gazes locked for a moment, and he gave her a subtle nod before turning back to his conversation. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt Lila squeeze her arm.

“Oh, he definitely saw you,” Lila said, grinning. “And I’m not imagining the way he looked at you.”

“Stop,” Y/N hissed, her cheeks flushing. But she couldn’t deny it—there was something in his gaze that felt personal, even in the middle of the crowd.

“Go say hi,” Harper urged, giving her a nudge.

“Not yet,” Y/N said, grabbing a glass of wine for herself. “I’ll wait until he’s free. Let’s just look around first.”

As they wandered through the gallery, admiring the artwork, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that Harry’s eyes were on her—even when she wasn’t looking his way.

Y/N wandered through the gallery, sipping her wine as she admired the artwork. Each piece was so different—some abstract, others intricate and detailed—but all of them carried a sense of purpose. It was easy to see that Harry had a good eye for curating.

She glanced across the room and saw Harper and Lila chatting animatedly with a group of women, likely bonding over their outfits or the wine. Typical, she thought with a smile, shaking her head.

As she moved to the next painting—a striking piece of layered colors and textures—she felt someone step up beside her. There was a shift in the air, a quiet presence that made her turn her head.

It was Harry.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze fixed on the painting. His black shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up, contrasted sharply against the warm tones of the art, and his tattoos seemed to blend seamlessly into the aesthetic of the space.

“It’s acrylic and resin,” he said, his voice low but steady. “The artist used palette knives for the texture and then poured resin over it to give it that shine. Took weeks to cure properly.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard for a moment before she found her words. “It’s beautiful,” she said softly, turning her attention back to the piece. “I love the depth in it. It feels like you could reach in and get lost.”

Harry glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “That’s the idea. The artist wanted it to feel immersive, like stepping into an emotional landscape.”

She looked at him, her curiosity piqued. “Do you know all the details of every piece in here?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, his smirk growing. “Part of the job. I like to understand the process—it helps me connect with the artists and explain it to people who come through.”

Y/N smiled, sipping her wine. “It’s impressive. You’ve created something really special here.”

Harry looked at her again, his green eyes studying her for a moment. “Thanks,” he said quietly. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

She tilted her head, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Why me?”

He shrugged slightly, his gaze flicking back to the painting. “Because you actually look at the art. Most people just see it, but you’re trying to understand it.”

Her cheeks warmed at the unexpected compliment, and she turned back to the painting to hide her flustered expression. “Well, you make it hard not to appreciate it. The way you talk about it… it’s obvious how much you care.”

He didn’t respond right away, and the silence between them felt comfortable, almost intimate. Finally, he leaned in just slightly, his voice softer now.

“I’m glad you came,” he said.

Y/N turned to look at him again, her heart skipping a beat at the closeness between them. “Me too,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the bustling crowd around them faded into the background, leaving just the two of them standing there, the art surrounding them as if it were part of their story.

Harry slipped his hand into Y/N’s, his fingers warm and steady as he gently tugged her through the gallery. She followed without question, her curiosity mounting as they weaved between groups of people. He didn’t say a word, just led her down a quieter section of the space where fewer people were lingering.

When they stopped, Y/N noticed the piece in front of them was a painting—bold yet delicate, with strokes that somehow conveyed both strength and softness. She tilted her head, studying it, drawn to the way the light and shadows played across the figure in the painting. There was something familiar about it, something that tugged at her memory.

She took a step closer, her heart beating faster as the realization slowly dawned on her. The painting wasn’t just beautiful—it was her.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Harry, her eyes wide. “Is this…?”

He nodded, his gaze steady but unreadable. “It’s you.”

Y/N stared at the painting again, her mind racing. The details were unmistakable—the way her hair fell, the soft curve of her face, the hint of a thoughtful expression she’d never realized she wore. But it wasn’t just her likeness; it was the way the he had captured something deeper, something vulnerable and raw.

“How?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “I started it a few weeks after I moved in. I didn’t even know your name then. I just… saw you.”

Her chest tightened as she turned to him again. “You saw me?”

He nodded, his green eyes softer now. “In the mailroom. In the hallway. On your balcony once, drinking coffee. I didn’t know why, but there was something about you that I couldn’t get out of my head. So, I painted.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, a mix of emotions swirling inside her—flattery, disbelief, and something she couldn’t quite name. “Harry, this is… incredible. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said, his voice low but steady. “I just thought you should see it. This is the first time I’ve shown it to anyone.”

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she took a step closer to him, her voice soft. “Why me?”

Harry’s gaze locked on hers, his expression open and sincere. “Because it’s you, Y/N. I couldn’t have painted this if it wasn’t.”

The noise of the gallery faded around them as she stood there, her hand still in his, staring up at the painting of herself. For the first time, she saw herself through someone else’s eyes—not as the loud, chaotic neighbor, but as something worthy of being captured in art.

And Harry, the grumpy, mysterious neighbor, was the one who had done it.

[love-anddeepression]

Magic

Moon Boys x reader<3

summary: you were married to Jake and after the events of moonknight, the boys get to know of jake and of you. Steven adores you but Marc just sees you as a friend. Right?

A/N: okay the timeline is a bit wonky but here's what i thought while writing the fic. Jake dated you for a year and a half before putting a ring on it. And you've been married for three years. You met Steven and Marc a year ago and have been dating Steven for eight months. Marc became friends with you a month after meeting you. please comment and reblog if you liked it!

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

@jake-g-lockley

Marc was a lot of things. Pig-headed, stubborn, horrible at communication, a fighter. But he wasn't arrogant He could admit it when he didn't know something.

But right now he knew one thing and one thing only, that Jake was a prime idiot.

Marc stayed in the background when Jake was fronting around you, most of the time. Not always, of course. He wasn't a perv and one to to intrude between a husband and a wife. But he knew you. So did Steven, and you knew them.

He'd considered you his friend. Maybe one of his best, just months after meeting you. You and him shared many a night after Jake's missions talking and watching movies, when your husband was knocked out. You made him fall in love with chai, something that knocked Steven's socks off and he'd taught you the basics of baseball so you weren't clueless when you watched baseball with him.

It wasn't always so nice.

"You're married?!"

"Yeah, what's your problem with that?" Jake had become defensive, he wouldn't let Marc or Steven breathe a single ill word towards you.

"No, it's no problem at all, pal." Marc seethed, outraged, "except for the fact that I was married to Layla! God what if she almost say you when we were married? No wonder it ended!"

"Fuck off, man. You know full well why your marriage didn't work out with Layla. And unlike her, I told my lady fucking everything. She knows everything, from the cave to the sarcophagus. So she knew what to do and what to be careful of, including you. So don't blame my marriage for the reason yours didn't work out."

This was when Steven had interjected, he was unsurprisingly on Jake's side.

"He's right, Marc. If his wife knows everything then you can't blame him, and it's honestly rather mean and unfair of you to be angry at someone you haven't even met."

It took a few hours for Marc to calm down, and actually, apologise to Jake.

Hesitantly, Jake offered, "Y'know, if you want you can meet her. She practically knows everything about you and uh, Steven's most probably seen her around. She goes to the museum every week."

"Wait a minute! That lady with the Van Gogh tote bag?"

"Yup."

"Oh wow! She's really sweet, and beautiful! Hell, mate. You scored."

Jake had to smile at that, he knew he scored with you. For the longest time he felt like you were too good for him and that someone as kind, clever, intelligent and beautiful as you shouldn't have had to settle for someone like him. But you'd kiss away every ill thought he had about himself and reassure him. Communication was a very, very vital and important part of the relationship and you had helped him learn that it wasn't selfish to voice his thoughts. Especially because he put everyone's needs before his for so long.

"I know, man."

Steven had readily agreed to front and meet you, and Marc was okay with being co-conscious during the interaction as well. So on one fine day, Jake had brought them to the house he considered his home. He worked to contribute to it's rent, and buy things for it and for you. It was home, after all. You were his home.

Marc didn't know what to expect but when Jake had stepped in and hung his jacket on the stand and taken his shoes off, footsteps could be heard running from the main bedroom and he saw you running straight into Jake's arms. Jake laughed wildly, picking you up and twirling you around, much to your delight as you kissed the life out of him.

When he put you down, he could get a clear glimpse of you. Your hair was messy and your t-shirt was rumpled. And when he saw you smile he knew why Jake had fallen in love with you. Why Steven thought you were beautiful and sweet. Verything about you screamed, home.

Your greeting to Jake threw both the boys off, "Who the fuck are you?"

Jake smirked, "The fuck you mean, ma?"

"I mean, who." you poked him once, "are." twice, "you?" thrice and Jake started giggling. Fucking giggling like some little schoolgirl. You laughed too, and hugged him tight.

"Hey, baby." he kissed your forehead and you smiled.

"Hi." you kissed his nose.

"I have two guys who'd like to meet you."he raised his eyebrows.

Your jaw dropped a little, "For real? Wait, you're being serious, you're not screwing with me?"

"Why would I screw with you, when I could just screw you?"

The men in his head and you all let out a simultaneous groan.

Steven met you first, and it went swell, you'd both bonded over history and literature. And a love for Taylor Swift. But that was a secret. You liked him a lot and he positively adored you.

Marc, on the other hand, was much more closed off, he'd be polite, but he'd be curt as well. A combination you didn't know was possible.

After a few weeks of trying to bond with him, resulting in almost a small meltdown. It had taken Jake being knocked out after a mission and being too tired to eat to actually get him to talk to you over a meal.

It was one of the best things he'd eaten in his goddamn life and the groan he'd let out after the first bite brought a laugh out of you.

So yes, Marc would consider you one of his best friends. Steven and you had started going out with each other a few months ago and it was going so well.

But not Marc.

Because he didn't like you like that.

Of course not, you were his friend.

You were his friend who made him laugh because you had the same dark sense of humour. You hugged him when he needed one but was too uptight to ask you. You, who googled the Cubs and learnt everything you could about them just so you could talk to him as well, the way you talked to Steven about Jane Austen and the Indus Valley.

He didn't know when it became something more to him.

And he didn't see how you'd look him at him when he laughed, or when he was focused on the TV, or when he made you tea the way you liked it, Jake had taught him how to do that.

No, to him, you were just his best friend.

And you were currently crying your eyes out because Jake and you had gotten into a huge fight. He'd missed your anniversary because of a mission and he was working with Hathor's avatar. He failed to mention the part where he was forced to pretend they were a thing to prevent being caught and you'd caught him smelling of her perfume and gotten rightfully furious.

Not because of her, but because he didn't tell you that it had been happening for a few days. That the week he'd spent away from you, he'd had to pretend he was someone else's and he was too scared to tell you. That's why you were mad, because you thought he didn't trust you.

You'd raised your voice as he turned his back on you and he turned around, face contorted in rage. Steven tried calming him down as he stalked over to you. You stood your ground, Jake would never lay a hand on you. You knew that. But it was what he said, that broke you.

"You're being a fucking nuisance. Instead of trying to understand, you're being more of a burden by finding shit to get mad at. Grow the fuck up."

That prime ass had the audacity to call you a burden. A nuisance.

And then he had the fucking nerve to leave and complete his mission and give control to Marc. Steven had chewed the fuck out of him and Marc would have loved to as well, but he needed to see you. See if you were okay.

As soon as he stepped in, he saw you on the sofa, rapidly wiping your tears away. You sagged again when you knew it was him. Somehow you always knew.

He furrowed his eyebrows at your disheveled state. Your eyes were swollen and wet with tears and you were breathing very heavily and in quick spurts.

"What do you need?" Marc asked you, sitting down beside you.

"C-can I have" you coughed, "a hug, Marc?" you said in a small voice, looking away.

Marc immediately moved to hug you close. Shushing you when you began to cry again.

What hurt was that he knew, and Jake knew, and Steven knew that you hated being a burden or an inconvenience to anyone. And today, the one man you trusted the most in this world had made you feel like that. And he couldn't even apologize.

'Jake you fucking idiot.' he rocked you a little, 'you better come out and fix this. she may be our friend but this is because of you, fix this.'

Jake remained silent in the reflection of the mirror next to the door. He looked wrecked at seeing you sob, and tears were falling down his own eyes.

'Mate.' Steven spoke up, he sounded mad, 'You made our girl cry. Stop being a fucking coward and fix this!'

When he was met with silence, Steven seethed, 'Marc, gimme the body.'

You knew exactly when it was Steven hugging you, and you kissed his cheek and breathed him in.

"Oh, love." he tried to comfort you, "I'm sorry. You're not a burden, I promise you." he kissed your forehead.

"I know that, Steven. I know I'm not a burden to you. I'm scared I'm becoming one to him. He doesn't even want to look at me!" you sniffed.

Steven glared at Jake in the mirror, who was wiping away his own tears.

Steven and Marc knew why Jake was so worked up. They knew that whoever Jake and Hathor's avatar was after called their bluff. They knew that those people had found the woman's partner and Jake was terrified for you and he couldn't even tell you because he never, ever wanted to be the reason for any feeling you had that wasn't bliss, happiness, content, or pleasure. And because he was sure he could find those assholes and beat the living shit out of them for even thinking of harming you.

But it wasn't their place to tell you, that much was apparent. Jake dug his grave, and then jumped into it. He had to crawl out of it on his own now.

"I just want to be someone he's happy to be with." you whisper and that's when Jake straightened up, heartbroken.

"Give me the body, hermano."

"All yours."

Only Jake scrunched the back of your shirts when he hugged you and you moved to hug him tightly as he whispered apologies in your ear.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry I made you feel like you were a burden and that I was anything but fucking delighted to be with you." he kissed your nose and then told you everything. Looking away because he was scared.

"I didn't tell you at first because I didn't want to just say that I had to pretend I was dating someone else and then fuck off for a week. I made a mistake in assuming that'd you get mad and it's because if I was in your place, I would be. But you're stronger than me, tesoro, and I failed to see that and I'm so sorry."

"Baby, I forgive you." you replied and he breathed out a sigh of relief, "But please, don't keep stuff like this in, okay? You can trust me, you know that."

He nodded fiercely and then he kissed you. Noses nudging and lips parting as he breathed you in like you were his lifeline, and he yours. He cupped your face and held you tight against him and when he pulled away you smiled at him, your eyes shining.

Steven fronted again with a little smile and you kissed him lovingly with a whispered 'i love you'. He just winked at you and kissed the back of your hand and then your forehead again before Jake took back control and carried you to the bed, kissing you deeply all the way.

----

Marc was fine, no he just needed a glass of water. He'd carefully rolled off the bed, thankful that he was at least wearing sweatpants and padded to the kitchen.

He should have known that you were a light sleeper.

"Marc." you began, your voice raspy.

He hummed in reply and held out his glass to you. You accepted it and drank your fill, giving it back to him.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke up, "I thanked Steven for comforting me. But I didn't thank you." you cleared your throat, "Thank you, Marc." you said, sincerely, "You're one of my best friends."

Marc smiled at you. Actually smiled. And you smiled back and kept going, "And Jake and Steven know this and are okay with it so I-"

"You don't have to thank me, honey." he patted your shoulder, trying to conceal his tears as he looked away because god he was dumb. Dumb enough to realize now, that he loved you, "I'm glad I'm your friend."

To him, you were everything. You were sunrays and moonbeams and everything that he believed was magical as a boy. Everything he stopped believing in as he grew up. The first time you made him laugh and joined him he felt sure that magic existed after all, because what else could you be?

He tried walking past you but you held his hand and he froze, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You walked over to him and held his face in your hands. His eyes shut as you wipe away his tears. And he whimpered as you kissed his forehead.

"Marc. Open your eyes and look at me." you said softly.

He was terrified. That you'd seen past his mask and were going to let him down gently. Because to you, what could he be? Certainly nothing more than a friend.

"Sweetheart. Please."

When his eyes finally opened, they met yours.

"Marc. I fucking love you." you confessed and he let out a sob. Pulling you into a tight hug.

"I love you. God I love you so much, Sweetheart." he says into your hair, kissing all over your face, but not your lips.

"Can I kiss you?" you asked him, looking at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

He nods and your hands travel to his locks and pull them lightly as you bring your lips to his own. Humming sweetly as he wraps his arm around you and licks into you.

Yes, he reasons yet again as you hold his face in your hands and smile at him, magic does exist. And it's in his arms. He loves it and so do the men in his head who cheer for him, albeit sleepily, looking at you lovingly.

And they'd never let you go.

[skyahri]

Shock |Kakashi Hatake X Reader|

Summary: An uninvited guest on Kakashi’s doorstep might be a little trouble, but it's worth it in the end.

Warnings: canon compliant violence, mentions of blood and death, reader is in shock, medical equipment.

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist Ko-fi

- - - - -

"I'm sorry, I um- I don't know why I'm here."

Out of curiosity, Kakashi cracks his front door open just a bit wider so he can get a better look at you. You're in your anbu attire, blood coating your clothes and splattered on your face. Your hands are shaking and you're shifting on your feet. You look manic- pupils blown and an unreadable expression on your face.

"It's kinda funny that I am, though, right? Knocking on your door in the middle of the night, covered in blood like a lunatic."

He peeks out into the hall, but there's no one else. No secondary footprints or chakra residuals. It's just you, like you said, covered in blood like a lunatic.

"You don't even like me and yet I still came here. I could've gone, well, anywhere else. I probably should've gone home... or the Hokage's office."

In your senseless muttering, you had gotten it right- you should've gone somewhere- anywhere- else. Why come here? While he's never been unnecessarily mean, he'd also never been kind to you, and yet here you are, waking him up at three in the morning, talking his ear off in some sort of haze.

"He'll probably want an update on my mission. He has to send a recovery team for the others, too. I think I need a medic before that, though. I hope he doesn't mind waiting."

He furrows his eyebrows at your rambling. You've always been a talker, but never like this. Never this unorganized and rushed, like your only goal was to fill the silence the night brought-

Wait.

"Recovery team?"

"It's kinda cold out don't you think? Usually, we have a few more weeks until it snows, but I think it's coming sooner this year. I've been trying to knit a blanket between missions, but I don't think I'll finish it before-"

You don't answer. You don't even acknowledge that he's said anything at all. You just keep talking. He's not sure what possessed him to do so (maybe it's his trauma responding to your off handed comment about a recovery team), but against better judgement, Kakashi sets his hand on your back and guides you inside his apartment. He locks the door before sitting you at his dining room table and searching around his cupboards for a cloth. He wets it, rings it out, and turns towards you.

"I found some really pretty yarn in Suna last year. Forest green and dandelion yellow and the most beautiful shade of blue I've ever seen. The woman who makes it gave me a pattern for an Afghan, said it's perfect for winter."

He wipes the cloth across your face, folding it over a few times to get as much blood as possible (why was there so much?) before returning to the sink to rinse it out and start again. He notices how you continue to stare straight ahead, completely unbothered by anything he's doing. Your words never falter, not even when he takes a firm hold of your face to make his task easier.

"I have four chakra natures... never really picked up lightning if I'm being honest. Did you know that? Nevermind, you're Kakashi, of course, you know that."

He tosses the rag into the sink and slowly moves to undo your weapon holster. It's light, and a quick peak in the pocket confirms that there's nothing left in there. He sets it aside, not really caring about the red puddle it's creating on the floor. He removes your gloves and kneels to untie your shoes.

"I copied that mudslide you use, by the way. It's crazy... changes the entire course of a battle in a split second. I'd say I hope you won't mind, but I know you will. You always mind when it comes to me."

He had you stand up and ushered you towards his bathroom. He turned on the faucet and tested the water to make sure it was warm. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and tapped your side, hoping that somewhere in your spaced out mind you'd get the hint and undress yourself. Lucky for him, you did, but not without falter.

"Your apartment's nice by the way. Very clean and organized and looks like someone actually lives here. All I have is a bed and a dresser. I don't have much time to appreciate anything else."

The motion was less than graceful. You used one hand to slip the tight fabric over your head and down your left arm, which stayed at your side despite the obstacle it caused. You expertly unclipped your bra and let it fall forward off your shoulders and to the ground, and had your pants and underwear there a second after. He doesn't stare, partially because he's already seen you naked before in the locker room from time to time, and partially because even in his perverted mind, he knows it's not the time.

"When I retire one day like you, I want my apartment to be just as homey. I'll be able to enjoy it since I'll be home longer than a day at a time."

He isn't too sure what to make of the current situation. He's pushing you under the showerhead, absently listening to you drone on, but all he can think about is how off-putting the whole thing is. You'd been in ops for a long time- long enough to not warrant a reaction like this after just any mission. Despite any sort of way he may have felt about you in the past, you've never been one to be affected by the carnage, a quality he's always appreciative of in his teammates. So what the Hell happened?

"My fifteenth anbu anniversary is coming up in December. Owl said he'd throw me a party, but I guess that's not happening anymore."

Your eyes fall from the wall in front of you to the drain on the ground. The water is muddy- the blood, sweat, and tears acquired from a month-long mission being washed away like nothing.

"I don't think I even like parties. I've never had one, which is why he offered in the first place. He wanted to celebrate my birthday, but I wouldn't tell him when it was. Drove him crazy."

Why is he even doing this? He must be losing it, honestly. Standing behind you, washing your hair as his clothes get completely soaked. This isn't something he's ever done, and even now, it's something he could never imagine doing for anyone else. You used to annoy the shit out of him, following him around in your youth and trying to be overly friendly when he clearly wasn't interested. If sixteen-year-old him had seen him in this moment, he'd surely have a fit.

"It's June 2nd, by the way. I don't think I've ever told anyone that. I don't even know why I told you. It's fine. You probably won't remember and even if you do, you aren't much of a gossip."

When the bulk of the debris is cleared away, he finally gets a good look at what's causing you to favor one arm. A gash curves around your shoulder blade and wraps around your torso, going all the way down to your pubic bone. It's deep and jagged, most likely from a dull kunai.

"I bet I'll get a few days off after this. Gai has been pestering me for a while now to try that new cold soba place. I think I'll go. He'll probably ask you to go, which would be nice, especially if Kurenai and Asuma come."

He hands you a soapy washcloth and watches as you diligently clean your hands. It's interesting, the way you scrub under your fingernails and between your fingers. It's probably muscle memory from years of trying to get the image of blood off your hands. He thinks, for only a moment, that maybe you aren't so different from him, you just put up a different front.

"I can't wait to have a nice meal. I'm so fucking sick of the MREs. It's a dumb thing to care about, but I think it's the smaller stuff that matters in this line of work."

He dries your hair before handing you the towel, leaving you to finish it off so he can grab you some clothes, changing his own while he's in there. Just sweats and a tee, and a pair of briefs if you'll take them. He hands you the bottoms first, withholding the top until he can get a better look at the wound.

"We were gone an extra week. My neighbor's gonna lecture me for sure this time. She always worries that I won't come back."

He thought for a moment, debating on whether or not he should outsource your injury. Honestly, even with immediate medical ninjutsu, this severe of an injury, not to mention how old it seems to be, is sure to leave a pretty nasty scar. Jostling you around to get across the village to the hospital may do more harm than good at this point in time.

"She's got three kids. All super loud, but they're really sweet. They think I'm the coolest person in the world, always saying they wanna be like me when they grow up. God, I hope they realize they should want more."

He grabs the first aid kit from the closet in the restroom and pulls up a chair next to his bed. He pushes you face down onto the mattress, your words becoming slightly muffled by his pillow. He's only ever stitched himself, and even then it was just a few here and there, not a hundred.

Your skin is soft compared to his rough hands. You seem like the kind of person to take care of yourself whenever possible, so he supposes it's not too surprising. He almost feels bad, being an accomplice to the desecration of your otherwise flawless body, but there's nothing to be done. All he can do is try and be as precise and delicate as possible and hope the wound heals nicely.

"Kumo is really nice this time of year. They don't have a lot of greenery but their flowers bloom around this time, just before the first snow falls- AH!"

It was like someone woke you up with a bucket of ice water to the face. You flinch hard when he sticks the needle through your skin. The area is tender, obviously, and the not-so-gentle tug of your flesh is enough to knock you out of your shock.

"Ah, there she is."

In the onslaught of your panic, you don't register, well, anything. You start to get up and the fact that you're half naked on his bed goes over your head. Before you can even prop yourself up onto your elbows, he's pushing your body down, large hands taking up the majority of your uninjured back.

"Relax. You're gonna fuck up the clotting if you keep squirming like that."

You lower yourself, but can't seem to loosen up at all. The blood loss and adrenaline crash are making your head spin. You feel sick and disoriented, and can't seem to to get a grip.

"Seriously, relax. Can't do what I need to if you keep freaking out."

You try to focus on his hands. They're rough from years of training, calloused, and strong as any other man would be, but the way he rubs his thumb back and forth over your spine is soft and doting. Years of unfamiliarity and pushback have left you hardly knowing him at all, but even you can tell this is his way of saying he's calm, and you should be too. Kakashi is a reasonable man, and it's safe to lower your guard around him.

When your breathing evens, he continues with the sutures as if it were nothing, emitting the same energy someone would put towards sudoku. Without the cushion of shock and adrenaline, you can feel how serious the wound really is. You push the unsettling feeling of the cool air against your exposed muscle to the back of your brain, preferring to instead lean into the warmth of his comforter. It has a more natural, woodsy, type of scent, similar to the shampoo he'd washed your hair with.

Kakashi is completely immersed in his work. He still has a ways to go, but he's rather pleased with his progress. Even spacing and perfectly taught, Rin would surely be proud.

"You're different."

He's caught off guard when you speak. If he's being honest, he assumed you'd somehow managed to fall asleep.

"Retirement has mellowed me out."

You don't respond and he doesn't bother to continue the conversation. The silence is comfortable. You hadn't talked to him in over a year, and even before that you were never on friendly terms, but the warmth in the air would lead an outsider to believe you were close.

It isn't long before he's offering you a hand and guiding you into a sitting position. He tugs a black shirt over your head and you pull your arms through, wincing at the stretch of your stitches. Your eyes go to the smear of red on your stomach, and subsequently the bedding. You absentmindedly thumb over the stain on his dark blue duvet cover.

"Don't worry about it. Just lie back down so I can finish the front."

You're too tired to argue with him, so you comply. He's leaning over you now that the injured side isn't directly facing him. His arms are warm against your skin and you have a better view of his face. Of course, he's still wearing that stupid mask, but you can easily make out the contours of his nose and lips. He's entirely focused, eyebrows pulled together and eyes fixed in front of him.

You hiss when he gets to the indent of your hip, knicking the bone. Your hand reaches to stop his, carelessly ignoring the fact that there's a needle sticking out of your skin. He looks up at you- your eyes are squeezed shut and your breathing is heavy.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"'s fine. Just need a second."

He sets the needle driver down and splays his now free hand against your midriff. He's concerned for your comfort, a quality he wasn't aware he had, but that he apparently holds for you. He isn't even sure what he's doing with all of these subtle touches and acts of affection. Yesterday, you were just an annoying girl from his past, not too unlike Gai, and now he's finding himself losing his aloofness in favor of a more intimate moment.

Your hand eventually slides down his, gripping the juncture between his thumb and forefinger, a subtle sign that you're ready, before you fold your arms above your head.

He squeezes your side and resumes his previous position. He's more careful this time, not that he wasn't before. He's done within ten minutes, finishing it off with some dressings and tugging down your his shirt. He tugs the blanket out from under you and goes to grab the spare. It's a quick swap, the dirty one getting tossed in the general vicinity of his washer and the clean one is lazily thrown over you.

He starts to say something, but shuts his mouth when he notices you sleeping. You finally look peaceful. Your lips are chapped, your hair's a mess, and you're paler than usual, but peaceful nonetheless.

He sways his head side to side to side as he contemplates his next move. He could certainly just wait it out and situate himself on the couch with a book until you woke up. Or, he could do what Kurenai would call 'the chivalrous thing to do' and continue to care for you.

With a sigh, he summons Pakkun, who appears in a puff of smoke.

"You think you can keep an eye on her while I take care of some business?"

"You got it boss."

- - - - -

Your eyes felt heavy. It took more willpower than you'd care to admit to force them open, and even more to lift your hands to rub the sleep away. The soreness that spread across your shoulder and hip quickly reminded you where you were and what had happened.

You sat up and swung your feet over the side of Kakashi’s bed, planting them on the floor and setting your face in your hands. You hear footsteps, but don't bother to look up. Your head is swimming, your stomach is in knots, and your body is fighting to not collapse.

"Dinner is almost ready if you're up to it."

"I have to give my report before I can even think of anything else-"

"No need. It's already been handled."

You lift your head to give him a confused look, and that's when you see it. He's a bit uneasy, shuffling awkwardly until he's leaning against the door frame. He won't meet your gaze and you can see his Adam's apple bob up and down.

"Handled?"

"I informed Lord Third of your return. He said not to bother with your full report until tomorrow morning at the earliest."

You turned your gaze back to the floor and sighed in relief, but the feeling didn't last as you began a rather fast paced descent into madness. You mulled over all the events of the day and couldn't help but think of all the things you should've done differently. You should've taken first watch. You should've forced an opening to send someone, or even a summoning, to get back up. You should've said no when the others wanted to camp for the night and insisted on moving forward.

But you didn't, and now the people you spent nearly every day of the past three years with paid the price, slaughtered in the blink of an eye.

While you had never been one to grow unnecessarily fond of your teammates in the past, you couldn't deny the personal affection you'd acquired for your team over the years. It was stupid to get so attached to people who signed up for a job that damn near guarantees death, but you couldn't help it. Not when Sato was convinced that the person responsible for his meal rations had it out for him by giving him all the worst options. Not when Kaito was complaining about another failed date that he definitely ruined by being, well, himself. Not when Yue always made the time to nicely braid your hair after an impromptu bath in the lake.

Especially not when they all went out of their way to ensure you that you were valued and loved.

Kakashi can't see your face, but he doesn't need to. The slight tremble of your frame and the shakiness of your breath tell him all he needs to know. Despite how uncharacteristically nice and patient he's been today, he's still not used to actually caring for people outside of just making sure they don't die. So he does the only thing he can think of and sets his heavy, uncoordinated dog paw of a hand on your head and ruffles your hair, much like he'd do for his ninken.

"Relax."

You can't help but snicker at the action. It's awkward, so much so that you can feel it radiating through his skin. Unlike him, though, you are very well versed in this area. You rub your hands down your face, drying any tears that may have fallen, and pull him closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and laying your head on his firm stomach. He tenses but doesn't make any effort to move. Eventually, you feel his rigid hold on your head loosen, his fingers grazing across your scalp and then running through your hair.

"You suck at comforting people, you know?"

"It worked in the end, didn't it?"

You can't argue with him, not after he had so easily shut down your rapid spiral. Instead, you choose to focus on the moment and can't help but notice how intimate it feels. You're no stranger to physical affection, oftentimes using it to get out of difficult or uncomfortable questions, but never before has it felt like this. It could be that you're wearing his clothes and smell like his soap, or maybe it's the way one of his hands is cupped around the back of your head and pressing you further into his abdomen, but this feeling is definitely different from anything you've experienced up until this point.

Unbeknownst to you, Kakashi is having similar thoughts. His mind is going a thousand miles a minute, trying to push away his avoidant instincts. This past year has given him the opportunity to rewire his brain to be less... guarded, and he's hardly done anything with the newfound sense of freedom. Sure, he's managed to salvage his friendships, but even that much was due to other people's persistence, and not his own doing.

Maybe, just maybe, there's something specific about you. This entire experience has been ridiculously natural. You look like you belong in his apartment, in his clothes. Talking to you doesn't feel forced and there's not that weight he usually associates with social interaction. It's almost like you belong-

"Kakashi?"

Your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. He shifts his gaze down to see you peering up at him. He gives a slight hum to acknowledge you.

"Weren't you cooking?"

Cursing himself under his breath, he pulls back, his hands sliding out of your hair and along the underside of your jaw. He quickly makes his way back into the kitchen, shutting off the stove and removing the pan from the burner. You follow after him and sit at his table. It's funny, really, the way he haphazardly moves around the kitchen like he's never touched a pan before. You shouldn't laugh at him, not after he's been so good to you, and especially because you probably wouldn't fare much better.

He set a plate in front of you and your face instantly lights up. You clap your hands together and thank him profusely for the food. It's quiet for a while. You're enjoying your first real meal in weeks and he's giving you the space to do so.

It's hard to ignore the looks he keeps sending your way. You avoid looking directly at him to preserve the bits of his face that his cupped hand doesn't cover, but you can still feel the holes burning into your skull. You know what he wants, and to be honest, you're surprised. It seems Kurenai was right with that off-handed comment a few months ago- Kakashi had become rather nosey in recent times. Or, maybe, he's always been keen to information, but due to his particular place in the ranks, he's never had to ask for it before.

Growing more uncomfortable under his gaze and sensing he won't be the one to break the ice, you take the initiative.

"Why'd you let me in?"

"I'm trying to be more receptive to people's efforts at friendship."

You nod. You were once on the receiving end of his less-than-amicable approach, and you were glad he was actually allowing people in after everything that happened in his youth.

"Why come here?"

You sigh, nervously running your hands up and down your thighs. Honestly, you hadn't been very present-minded when you knocked on his door last night. The journey back to the village was hard to recall. Even the few hours you spent awake with Kakashi earlier were blurry.

Every other time you've needed someone in the past, you've turned to Kurenai. It was easy to unwind around her. You didn't have to think about anything, just letting her force feed you snacks from a variety of vendors and drag you around to different shops.

That's not always enough, though, and even if you pretend it is, there's always a part of you that seeks out something more. Apparently, last night you had sought out that something.

"Sometimes... it's nice to be around people who understand,"

Kakashi nods. He's been on the receiving end of said behavior, and he knows exactly how exhausting it can be.

"Don't get me wrong, Kurenai and Gai are great, but... they ask so many questions. There's a big difference between regular Shinobi work and ANBU, especially with what I do, and it's just, I don't know. I just don't usually want to talk about the details."

"I get it."

Even though Kakashi is obviously curious, he doesn't pry. He really does get it. Constantly being asked if you're okay, if you wanna talk about it, being offered a shoulder to cry on- it's kind, but it gets old after a while. Especially when you're just trying to spend the limited free time you have as a person and not just an off duty shinobi.

"Can I ask you personal questions? Or are you gonna get all angsty on me?"

"Angsty? I'm not angsty,"

One pointed look from you is all it takes for him to cave.

"Yeah, yeah, just ask your damn questions."

"How's retirement?"

It's kind of complicated. He should be training genin right now, but he sank that ship before it even left the dock. Poor kids didn't even make it a day before they were right back in the academy. Or wait, could you mean personally? That's probably at least a little complicated, too. There's been a lot of change for him this past year, but that doesn't really mean much compared to others when you're practically crawling at the ripe age of twenty-four.

"I'm only asking how you've been doing, Kakashi, there's no need to fret."

He must've taken too long to answer. That's why you're filling in the blanks for him. He should feel embarrassed, but he doesn't. Your teasing tone is enough to subdue any negative connotations your interruption may have offered. Honestly, he's more so just confused as to how you knew exactly what he was thinking.

"... I have a lot of free time."

Man, you really do have to walk him through everything, huh?

"Is that a good thing?"

He shrugs and mulls over it for a moment.

"I'm used to being busy. It's just difficult to get used to. I imagine you'll have an even harder time adjusting once you retire."

"Why's that?"

"You've spent nearly your entire life in ANBU. The cool down from that is gonna be hard after it's been ingrained so deeply."

He's right about that. You'd joined at just seven years old, hadn't even been a genin a year.

"Do personal questions go both ways?"

"I don't see why not."

"Why'd they recruit you so early?"

Damn, he really went right for it. You swallowed hard. Your fingers drummed lightly on the pair of pants he'd lent you.

"It was the only way Lord Third could keep me out of root."

Oh God. Root. Kakashi knew all about Danzo and his followers, courtesy of Tenzo, of course. That place was disgusting and cruel. It was a wonder why it hadn't been shut down already.

"I'm not very smart, so I didn't stick out in the academy, but once I got onto the field and found my calling... let's just say Danzo had taken an interest in me."

Oh, Kakashi knows exactly what you're talking about. It's true. You couldn't do a henge or substitution jutsu to save you're life, but you made up for it tenfold. It's only fitting that the person dubbed 'Calamity' in bingo books be a force of nature, right? You had an abundance of chakra and raw strength that only Tsunade could parallel. All the jutsu you knew were hard hitters- mudslides, tornadoes, tsunamis- anything massive that didn't require a lot of concentration, you could pull off.

"It's fine, though. My fighting style isn't exactly useful on standard missions. Too much collateral damage."

You manage a laugh. It's a little awkward, but genuine nonetheless. Most people get a bit stiff when talking about your unorthodox recruitment, but you don't hold the same sentiment. You'd lucked out with an amazing team right off the bat. They were all men in their late teens and early twenties, eager to take you in as their little sister and raise you into a fine shinobi.

"Why’d you get recruited?"

"Me? Minato-sensei had some personal tasks for me."

"Oh yeah? Is that your mysterious way of saying you were solely recruited for baby duty?"

Now that had taken him aback.

"How did you-"

You, apparently, knew the couple very well. How that fact got past Kakashi all this time is beyond him. You told him about the first time you met Kushina- how she cried because the chest plate on your uniform was too big for little seven-year-old you. You told him about how Minato tried desperately to free you from ANBU during his reign, but couldn't find any loopholes that'd keep you away from Danzo. How they'd sometimes run into you on the street and offer to take you to dinner.

Kakashi shared his own stories of his sensei and his wife, which, in extension, got him to talk about Rin and Obito. Before either of you knew it, it'd been several hours. The last rays of sunshine had disappeared in the midst of your discussion some time ago. The pain of your injuries had dulled and were pushed to the back of your mind, buried in the new found connection.

He hadn't felt that stress-free in decades. There was no pressure when he was talking to you, even when it came to the people he lost. You were just... talking. No prying, no judging, no eggshells- just talking.

It was easy to admit that Kakashi was different from the others. The conversation had revived memories you hadn't even realized existed. This is what was lacking in all of your other encounters- depth. Screw mission details and gossip. These were the kinds of things you wanted to spend your time mulling over.

"Kakashi?"

"Hm?

You smiled at him and he swears his heart might be failing him. It's so soft and genuine, the kind of smile that soul mates share with one another.

"Thank you... for everything."

He doesn't respond. Actually, no more words are spoken between you two as you ready yourself to leave his apartment. There's a peaceful silence as you gather your belongings and head to the door.

When you're finally standing on his welcome mat, you decide that it's now or never with him. Maybe you're being a bit bold, but the Copy Nin is exclusively difficult to connect with and you aren't about to take any chances.

"When Gai inevitably invited you out to dinner-"

"I'll go."

That was surprisingly easy.

Another one of those beautiful smiles lights up your face at his response. He knows that whatever is going to come of this is sure to be troublesome, but he can't find it in himself to care.

"Good."

And just like that you're walking away.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Sweet Pumpkin Chapter 1

Summary:  Bucky is struggling with the dating world and knows that if he ever hopes to have a serious relationship, that he needs to get through his touch deprivation issues.  It’s not that he doesn’t want to touch people, or them to touch him, but after decades of pain he doesn’t know how to accept physical intimacy from others, or how to give it himself.  He hires Y/N, an intimacy coach and professional cuddler, who comes highly recommended.  Will his heart be able to distinguish between a service given versus real love?

Warnings: mentions of past violence and past sexual assault, language, physical intimacy, eventual smut

**curvy reader

Next chapter

Bucky had walked out on his date.  He rubbed his face harshly in embarrassment and shame.  She seemed nice, but was overly flirtatious, and kept reaching out and touching his hand, his arm, even ran her fingers through the front of his hair, then had all the audacity to trace her finger over his lower lip.  He’d pulled back harshly at that point, excusing himself to the bathroom, but instead swerved to the host stand, paid for the food and ran like his life depended on it.  He’d gotten home and immediately showered, scrubbing the spots she’d touched nearly raw.  It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be touched.  He actually wanted it…craved it.  But not like that.  She was a stranger, and had felt some kind of entitlement to his personal space right off the bat.  

He’d heard of people who suffered from touch starvation.  Sam had hinted at it once when Bucky flinched away from the friendly touch of a fellow agent they had been working with on a stealth mission.  Bucky knew he had a problem, but didn’t realize just how bad it was until the date.  He sighed harshly as he dried himself off from the shower and got into his pajamas for the night.  He picked up his phone and texted Sam.

B: What was the name of that intimacy coach you had mentioned? 

S: Y/N Y/L/N.  I’ll send you her info.

Bucky thanked him once her contact information popped up on his screen.  He braced himself as he clicked on her phone number.  He sent her a message, being vague but asking for help.  He didn’t expect to get an answer back, seeing as how it was almost 11:00 p.m., but was surprised when she texted back within a few minutes.

Y/N: I’ve been wondering when you would reach out.  How does Friday at 7:00 p.m sound?

Bucky gawked at her message.  

B: Do we know each other?

Y/N: No, Sam just talks too much.  ;) 

He rolled his eyes.  Of course Sam had already talked to her about him.

B:  Now I’m worried.

Y/N:  Don’t be.  

B:  Okay.  Friday at 7.

Y/N:  Awesome.  Here’s my address…

***

Friday at 6:57 Bucky stood outside her door.  He was fighting off his panic and stress.  He needed this.  This would be good for him.  If he ever hoped to move on and have some semblance of a normal life he’d have to be able to accept love from others.  He wanted this.  He swallowed harshly and sighed before knocking on the door.

There were shuffling sounds from the other side and then it swung open.  A woman stood in front of him that looked like the physical embodiment of softness.  She was short, plump, and dressed in an all-off-white sweater and sweatpant outfit that looked like it was made of faux sherpa.  She smiled up at him pleasantly, her eyes twinkling.  

“Sergeant Barnes?” she asked.  

Bucky just stared at her for a moment.  Even her voice was soft.  He nodded before clearing his throat.  “Bucky.  Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yep,” she nodded.  “Come on in.”  She stepped back and held her arm out as a welcome gesture.  Bucky gave her a quick, tight smile before walking inside.  As she shut the door behind him he looked around her apartment.  It was just as soft as she was.  All the colors were muted with pastel greens, more off-whites mixed with rich browns from wooden accents littered around the decor.  There were plants all along the windows, and since nightfall was setting in she had an array of small lamps on and candles lit around the main living room.  In one corner of the room was a large mattress covered in the softest looking blankets and pillows he’d ever seen.  Every surface seemed soft and cozy.

“Are you thirsty?  I can get you some water, soda, juice, even alcohol if you need some liquid courage,” Y/N asked from behind him.

Bucky turned to look at her.  She was watching him, the side of her mouth upturned in a small smirk.  He felt like she could see through him, making him feel unnerved but also strangely understood at the same time.  “I’m alright for now, thank you.”

Y/N nodded and then walked past him to one of the large chairs near the furthest window.  “Well, how about you make yourself comfortable and tell me why you’re here?” she said, plopping down on the chair and grabbing a notebook and pen on a small side table sitting next to it.

Bucky blinked before toeing off his shoes and hanging up his jacket on the hook near the front door.  He slowly walked over to the chair opposite her and sat down.  She was watching him again, the smirk never leaving her face.  “Well, uh, I’m not sure how much you already know about me and my past,” he started, his hands wringing in his lap, not quite meeting her gaze.  

Y/N hummed.  “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917, which would make you 107 years old now.  Grew up in Brooklyn, New York.  Drafted to join the army in WWII, where you were unfortunately captured, experimented on and tortured by Hydra.  You’re best friend and newly made Captain America, Steve Rogers, rescued you and other prisoners and then made a team called the Howling Commandos.  You were a sniper.  You fell from a train during a mission and were presumed dead in 1943.  And then reappeared decades later as the fist of Hydra, the Winter Soldier, where you were brainwashed and forced to do their bidding.  From there it gets a bit muddy with specifics and government cover ups, but you made it out the other side a free man.  And now I’m assuming you’re here talking to me of all people because after all that, you now struggle with being physically close to others because you’re afraid of more pain and being taken advantage of, yes?”

Bucky blinked at her in shock, slowly nodding his head.  “Did Sam tell you all that?”

Y/N shook her head.  “I do my research.  Sam said you’re a great guy who just needs some help.  And any friend of Sam’s is a friend of mine.”

Bucky slightly smirked back at her.  “And how are you friend’s with Sam?”

“I was in his grief counseling support group at the VA,” Y/N said.  

“Well you know an awful lot about me, but I know nothing about you.  Makes me feel a bit out of my depth,” he confessed, his eyes narrowing at her.

“What do you wanna know?” Y/N asked, setting the notebook and pen back down on the side table, lifting her feet up to sit criss-cross.

Bucky took that as an invitation to get comfortable and leaned back in the chair more.  “Same stuff you know about me would be a good start.”

Her smile widened.  “Alright.  I’m Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.  Born Y/B/D.  Grew up in Queens, New York.  I came from a military family, but never joined myself.  I lost my brother to an IED in Baghdad.  My parents died a year later from a car accident.  Then I was sexually assaulted by a close friend.”  Bucky frowned.  “I went through a few years of severe depression, got some serious therapy then help from an intimacy coach.  It made a huge impression on my life so I decided to get licensed and trained to be one, too.  Now I’m here,” she said, looking around her apartment.  “Any questions?”  Bucky shook his head.  “So what are you hoping to accomplish from this?” she asked him, reaching for her notebook again but not opening it.

He sighed again, looking down at his hands.  “Sam and I talked about being touch starved.  I’ve been through…a lot of shit,” he paused, swallowing harshly.  “A lot of pain, in all different forms.  But I want…I want to be able to open myself up to physical i-intimacy in the future,” he stuttered.  “I went on a date the other night, and she was nice, but she kept touching me, and I couldn’t…I…” he shook his head, closing his eyes and frowning.

“Where did she touch that bothered you?” Y/N asked softly.

Bucky shifted in the chair, opening his eyes to glance at her.  “My hand, my arm, but it was worse around my hair and my face,” he said quietly.

Y/N nodded in understanding.  “That makes sense.  Our heads, hair, our faces, are a lot more intimate than people think they are.  So to have what I’m assuming was a stranger just randomly touch your hair and your face was triggering.”  Bucky nodded.  “Would it be okay if I move my chair close to yours?”

Bucky glanced at the space between their chairs.  He slowly nodded and Y/N stood, dragging her chair close to where he was sitting.  She sat back down and scooted the chair a little closer so that her crossed legs were next to his legs.  She gave him an encouraging smile.  “So how does it feel having me sit close to you like this?”

Bucky looked down at the few inches that separated their legs.  “It’s fine,” he said.

Y/N nodded then scooted closer until her knees were touching his knees.  “How about now?”

He could feel a small uptick in his heartbeat, but he breathed through it.  “It’s…okay,” he said.

Y/N moved away from him, keeping the inches between them.  “So not very comfortable,” she said with a knowing smile.  Bucky huffed a silent laugh.  “How about if I shook your hand?” she asked, sticking out her right hand.

Bucky quickly shook her hand. “That’s fine.”

“Because it’s formal,” Y/N assumed, her eyes narrowing at him.

“Yes,” he agreed.

She nodded again and released his hand.  “Can I hold your hand?”

Bucky blinked rapidly.  “Okay.”  She waited for him to reach his hand out first, then leaned forward and slowly grasped his hand so that she was holding his fingers.  They sat like that in silence for a moment.

“How does that feel?” Y/N asked, watching his face intently.

“It’s…”  Bucky was breathing deeply, trying to keep any panic at bay.  He couldn’t tell if it was the contact itself or the fact that it was contact with a pretty girl that was making his heart rate spike again.  “It’s nice.”

Y/N smiled and then her thumb swept over his knuckles slowly.  “And that?”

Bucky suddenly felt a rush of emotions.  He couldn’t understand why, but something about her firm but gentle grasp on his fingers grounding him and then the soft affection of her thumb across his knuckles brought tears to his eyes.  “That’s really nice,” he whispered, not trusting his voice.

Y/N kept holding his hand, her thumb randomly rubbing across his knuckles and squeezing his fingers lightly.  She leaned forward a little more.  “If I gave you permission to touch me, would that help?”

Bucky quickly sniffed then looked at her quizzically.  “Touch you where?”

“My hands, my arms, my face,” she said.  “The same places you were touched and unsure of.”

Bucky glanced at each spot on her body where the girl on the date had touched him.  “Maybe,” he shrugged.  Y/N let go of his hand and put her hands on her knees.

“Would it be easier for me to look at you while you do it or close my eyes?” she asked him.

“Close your eyes,” Bucky nodded.  He wasn’t sure he could handle her deep, knowing gaze while he was allowed to touch her.

Y/N smiled at him then closed her eyes.  Bucky looked at her for a long moment before reaching his hand out.  He touched her right hand first, laying his hand flat on it, then paused.  She didn’t move or flinch, her eyes staying closed.  He then slipped his hand up to her forearm and gave it a light squeeze.  Bucky then lifted his hand toward her head.  His fingers were shaking as he slowly moved some of the hair at her forehead away like his date had done.  Then his fingers traced down the side of her face until he was cupping her cheek.  

Bucky sat there the longest.  Y/N didn’t move, her face completely neutral as her eyes barely moved behind her eyelids.  She was completely trusting in him.  “Open your eyes,” he whispered.  Y/N opened her eyes, blinking a couple of times as she looked at him.  He stared at her, taking courage in her kind eyes.  “She touched my lips,” he said, frowning in trepidation.

Y/N merely nodded at him.  Bucky inhaled deeply, then watched as his thumb moved along her cheek until he swept it across her lower lip slowly.  She still didn’t move, her gaze never straying from his eyes.  When he was done he dropped his hand from her face, but didn’t lean away.  “How did that feel?” she asked quietly.

“Good,” he answered just as quietly.

Y/N’s smile reappeared.  “Good.”  A ping from her phone had her breaking eye contact as she glanced at it.  “Wow, it’s already time,” she said, leaning away from him.  She smiled at him again.  “I’d like for you to keep coming, Bucky, so we could work toward building your trust and comfort level with touch.  Would you like to continue?”

Bucky nodded, his own smile brightening his face.  “Yes, I’d like that.”

Y/N smiled even wider.  “Then I’ll see you next week.”

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess @cjand10 @railmesebstan

[alexthetrashyracoon]

Price x Reader (Fem!POV)

I'm sorry if it's sounds hasty or anything...

Tags: Fluff, Child Birth (not described because I only know the basics about it and don't want to touch too deep into this topic) Freshly baked Father Price

John Price stood at the airport terminal, the weight of his duffel slung over his shoulder while his thoughts were elsewhere.

He had just stepped off a military transport plane after being deployed for months with the rest of the team. The mission had been gone on longer than anticipated, making Price miss the most important event in his entire life.

The birth of his daughter.

He had wanted to be there, by his wife's side, letting her break his hand and curse his name for getting her pregnant. She had joked about it all the time to hide her tense nerves.

The call came mid-flight. His wife had gone into labour three weeks too early, their child was planned to be a January child. Now it was a December child, only a few days away from Christmas. By the time he had touched down his daughter he still had to meet was already in this world. The thoughts of his wife being alone during labour made John's stomach churn.

John's jaw tightened as he made his way through the throngs of travelers as he made his way to the exit. A cab screeched to a halt as he flagged it down.

"St. Mary's Hospital." He said to the driver, his tone chipped but polite.

The driver regarded him through the rearview mirror, his gaze curious as he took in John's appearance. The worn uniform, the messy beard, the dark circles under his eyes. But the driver stayed quiet.

"Congrats." The man behind the wheel said after a while, maneuvering through the city past the afternoon traffic.

John blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The hospital. New Dad, right?"

He nodded. "Thanks."

The rest of the drive was silent, John's mind was constantly playing back the voicemail his wife left him.

"It's happening! The baby is coming early, John! I know you're not here! But I wish you were here! It's happening!"

Despite her calm voice, John knew she was scared, who wasn't. Giving birth to a living human being, even a small one... John faced down guns and rockets and all kinds of dangers, but even thinking about the birthing process made him think twice.

The cab came to a halt in front of the hospital, John didn't pay attention as the driver told him how much he owned, just handed him most of the cash he had on his person and bolted outside and into the hospital. His boots pounding against the pavement, then the linoleum floor of the hospital.

At the reception he asked for her room, the receptionist smiled and told John that his wife was in room 412.

John took two steps at a time, his heart was pounding with each step he took.

By the time he reached room 412, he paused, taking a deep breath, collecting himself.

Then he knocked and waited for her word to come inside.

Pushing the door open, his breath caught in his chest.

His wife, propped up on some pillows, pale around the nose but glowing with a tired smile. In her arms a little bundle. Their little bundle of joy. The faintest wisp of dark hair peeking out from the blanket.

"John." She said, her voice barely above a whisper.

He crossed the room in three strides, dropping his bag and kneeling by her bedside, cupping her face and pressing his forehead against her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." he whispered, his voice thick. "I should have been here."

"You're here now." she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

John stared down on their daughter. His vision blurring and his fingers trembling as he carefully traced the tiny features, the delicate nose, the gentle raise and fall of her chest as she slept. She was so small, so fragile. She was all John promised to protect.

"What's her name?" He asked and looked up from the little girl's face to meet his wife's gentle but tired gaze.

"I thought we would decide together." She replied and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Jane." He said after a while. "Jane Grace Price. After your grandmother."

John sat down besides her, cradling the tiny infant against his chest, not daring to look away. For the first time in months John felt the tension fall from his shoulders.

"She's beautiful." He said softly, feeling his wife's head rest against his shoulder. "I'll make it up to you. Both of you. I will be here for you. From now on and forever. I'm here now. And I'm never letting go."

[loganwritesprobably]

– Law with the 1° genre, prompt (l.) ✨

Law is a character I have a lot of fun writing, even though I've never actually seen him on screen (I think I've consumed the anime in the weirdest way possible). Just love him. I also love this trope

This ended up being kind of long

Find the prompt list here

Content/Warnings: Law/GN!Reader, fluff, one bed, suggestive, friends to lovers, getting together, first kiss, Law has a nightmare

You were a Heart Pirate, a friend to your Captain and all your crewmates. You loved sailing, and being a pirate, you loved the Polar Tang and having one of the healthiest crews on the sea. You also loved Captain Trafalgar Law. You didn't mean to end up in this position, and yet here you were, with a huge crush on the one guy who was totally off limits. Probably anyway, you hadn't exactly asked where he stood on the entire thing.

You hopped onto the dock of the island you'd arrived at, planning to spend a few days on land. You needed to stock up, and Law was on a mission for information. That meant staying away from the Polar Tang for a while. A couple of crew members remained inside the sub, and once everyone was out, sailed away to keep it out of few. It was late, and pitch black, which would hopefully mean nobody would suspect you were pirates.

Since it was late, everyone was headed to the two inns on the island, splitting between them to increase chances of finding the information that you wanted.

When you arrived at the inn with Law, Bepo, Shachi and Ikkaku, Law set about getting rooms for everyone. You stepped in beside him at the front desk, stood shoulder to shoulder, while Bepo, Shachi and Ikkaku stood behind you both, rubbing their eyes and yawning, their exhaustion clear.

Law took the three keys you'd been given, two rooms to be shared and one solo room.

"Bepo snores! He can go on his own." Shachi protested, taking one of the keys for himself.

"I do not! .. Do I?" Bepo asked, taking another key for himself.

"Sorry big guy.. I'll get in with you Shachi." Ikkaku said, leaning heavily against her friend and nearly knocking him over.

"Looks like I'm with you then, Cap." You said, and you certainly weren't unhappy with that arrangement.

Bepo found his room first, heading in and locking the door behind himself. Then Shachi and Ikkaku found theirs, and headed inside with softly mumbled 'goodnight's. You and Law were last, and he headed in first, making a beeline for the bathroom. You closed the door behind yourself and locked it, setting the room key on a side table.

You ventured deeper into the room, only for your heart to drop when you made a key discovery: there was only one bed. Bepo had taken the wrong key, and gotten one of the rooms with twin beds. At least the bed was a double, silver linings you guess.

Law shuffled out of the bathroom a few minutes later, wearing just sleep pants, and no shirt. He had been about to say something to you when he saw exactly what you had.

"Shit." He muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. There was no sofa in the room, and you'd not really brought anything with you to sleep on if you were going to sleep on the floor. The bed was, realistically, the only option.

"Yeah." You mumbled in agreement.

"Bepo falls right asleep too, we couldn't get him to swap if we tried." You could only nod. It was true. You'd considered that already.

"Guess we're sharing." You said, finally walking away from the bed to use the bathroom for yourself. Suddenly worried about your hygiene, you decided to take a quick shower, careful not to get your hair wet. You got out, brushed your teeth and dried off before changing into your sleep clothes. You couldn't put off the inevitable any longer though, so you stepped out of the bathroom to find Law just sitting on the bed, polishing his sword.

You put your clothes from the day into your bag, and went to sit on the other side of the bed to Law, assuming that was where you'd be sleeping. You untucked the duvet from beneath the mattress, fluffed the pillow, and silently lay down. Law set aside his sword, and did the same on his own side of the bed, still distinctly lacking a shirt. Fuck.

You lay facing the wall, away from Law, your heart beating rapidly. You didn't dare turn to see what he was doing himself, just closing your eyes. Thankfully, you were exhausted, and so you didn't lay awake and anxious for long.

-·–·-–-·–·-

When you woke the next morning, after some particularly tantalising dreams about the man sleeping beside you, you opened your eyes to discover the man in question was now facing you, and you were facing him. His lips were slightly parted, and he looked.. peaceful. You couldn't help admiring the sight, even if it felt wrong to watch him sleep. You'd thankfully not woken up cuddling, like some sort of cliche, so eventually you managed to convince yourself to get up and head to the bathroom.

You washed your face in cold water, calming yourself down after your dreams, and waking up beside the man who'd been in your fantasises in months. You took a few deep breaths before returning to the room feeling more steady than before, to find Law still asleep. Should you wake him? He looked so peaceful, and he was always so exhausted. You were sure everything would be fine, you'd wake him before noon, or if the crew came knocking.

Slowly, carefully, you collected a book from your bag and returned to the bed, not wanting to wake Law. You slipped beneath the sheets, and got comfortable, opening your book to where you'd left off last. You managed to read for an hour before Law began to grumble and shift. You looked at him for a moment, and when he didn't stop, you reached out to rest a hand on his arm, hoping to gently wake him.

That didn't work.

He shot up, eyes wide and breathing rapid. He struck out as if to hit you, but thankfully you were just slightly faster than him, having the advantage of having been awake for over an hour already. You gently moved his hand to rest in his lap, hesitating for a moment before you rested a hand on his back.

"Want me to take a walk and let you chill out here for a while?"

"No-" he rasped, hand reaching out again, but this time he gripped your wrist tightly, as if you'd disappear if he didn't hold on.

"Okay. I'll stay here Cap." You confirmed, but he didn't let you go. He couldn't. A few silent minutes passed where Law's breathing slowly evened out, and you patiently waited.

"We can talk about it, if you want." You offered, when he finally released you, treading carefully so you didn't unsettle him again.

"Not really." Law replied, rubbing his eyes to get the sleep from the corners. No wonder he was always so exhausted. You wanted to know what it was that'd upset him so much, but if he didn't want to tell you then you wouldn't press him.

Law got up out of bed and headed to the bathroom, cleaning up like you already had, and you took the chance to change into your day clothes so you were ready to go whenever Law wanted to set off.

He returned after a few minutes, looking more composed, but still exhausted. You wanted to help, to ease his discomfort and take away whatever was hurting him. That wasn't your place.

"I have nightmares too, sometimes." You said into the silence of the room, perched on the edge of the bed. Law paused his movements, surprised by your words, then continued digging through his bag for his stuff.

"About what I've lost, and everything I have now, and how easy it is to lose that too. Nobody is invincible." You continued, hoping it would at least help Law feel a little less alone.

"You dream about losing us?" He asked, looking toward the main door to the room rather than at you.

"Yeah, pretty regularly actually. You guys are my family, I don't know what I'd do without you." He nodded and slipped back into the bathroom to chance into his day clothes. He returned, only missing his hat, which you tossed to him for him to put on.

"Hey, you don't have to worry about losing us, you know. I won't let that happen to any of us." Law said, but his expression said everything.

"Then why do you worry about it?" You asked, and Law once again stopped stock still. You were going to give him a heart attack if you weren't careful.

There was a long pause then, longer than the others, and you watched Law open and close his mouth repeatedly, trying to find the words that he needed to defend himself, or at least something smart to say, but he kept coming up fruitless.

He walked over to sit beside you on the bed, licking his lips. His eyes remained focused on the ground as he hooked his ankle with your own, and then reached out and took your hand to lace your fingers together.

"It doesn't matter if I worry, I'm the Captain, it's my job. But I care if you worry, I don't want you losing sleep over us." He told you, voice impossibly soft, like you'd never heard it before.

"It's not your job. It's your job to trust us, and believe we can work together as a team to all stay safe. But the worry will never go away, we'll probably all always worry because of everything we've been through before we met." You replied, gently squeezing his hand. Your heart fluttered in your chest when he returned the gesture.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked suddenly, and a part of you was sure you were still dreaming. Surely he hadn't just asked that?

"What?" You asked dumbly, and Law laughed softly. He'd watched your pupils dilate, he knew you were interested, you were just stunned.

"I dreamt about you specifically. About losing you. Can I kiss you? I just.. want to be sure you're really there."

You had never been able to say no to your captain.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

OMG I LOVED THE Tomorrow, I promise SO MUCH 😭🔥🙏🏻 have you considered of making part two? id be begging on my knees

I'm so glad you liked it!! Thanks for the request! (Also for the person who requested the Hawks version of this trope, it should be done soon! 💙)

Tomorrow, I promise

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Warnings: language; slight smut/suggestive; as always I have no beta reader and this was made in maybe under two hours because I wanted to get it to yall quickly <3

Find part one here!

"You ready to beg yet?"

In all honesty, your answer would've been yes.

The desire to give in was heinous, to throw away your pride for the tickle of heat budding below your abdomen and that wicked smile coming from the man above you.

Then you heard the knock on the door.

Practically falling off of the bed, your right knee hit the floor, pulling a curse from your mouth as the wood scraped against your skin. You scrambled to your feet, allowing yourself a deep breath for composition before turning the knob.

Magne and Compress met your line of sight, both looking upward as your door creaked open, the hinges rusted with age and lack of care.

"Good morning!" The redhead grinned, lowering her sunglasses to get a better view. "We figured it had been long enough for the quirk to wear off, so we wanted to check on how you were doing..."

Her voice trailed off, face scrunching in surprise. At first, you weren't actually sure why.

Until you felt the wave of heat gnawing at your back.

Eyes narrowed, Dabi had a hand placed on the left side of the door frame, leaning slightly and wearing an expression of pure annoyance.

Magne bit her lip. "Did you two-"

"No!" You sidestepped a few inches, heat blooming in your cheeks. "We definitely did not."

Dabi scoffed, muttering a quiet, "Yeah, thanks, assholes."

"Plus Shigaraki wants to see you two, talk about tomorrow's mission or something." Compress, seemingly able to ignore the less-than-kind comment, nodded to the stairway. "Unless, of course, we're interrupting anything."

Grabbing his free arm, you yanked Dabi in front of you, effectively pushing the group out of the room. "Nope, sounds good. See you soon, bye."

The hurried burst of words was followed by the slam of your door and a sigh. The sound of relief echoed through the space, now devoid of that warmth you kicked yourself for missing. Body resting on the wood, almost like a barricade to the world outside, you pushed yourself forward and towards the dresser.

Picking out a pair of jeans and a hoodie was easy.

Facing the rest of the League was not.

You tried to listen to your leader's explanation of what would be going down tomorrow, fidgeting under the cerulean gaze stemming from across the room.

For what seemed like hours, Shigaraki droned on and on about how pissed off he would be if you messed up again. It felt like a millennium before he waved you all off with a lazed flip of his hand.

Jumping up from your chair far too quickly, you sped-walked to the stairs, going at least two at a time in the direction of your room.

Unfortunately, you weren't fast enough.

Deft hands slid around your waist from behind, picking you off from the mismatched wood and tossing you over Dabi's shoulder.

"Put me down, asshole!" You yelled, ignoring the way his hand rested ever-so conveniently over your behind.

"Sorry, doll," he replied, ushering a soft squeeze to the area above your thigh. The sound he earned drew a wicked grin across his features as he opened the door to his own room. "But not happening."

Locking clicking into place, he marched forward and tossed you onto his bed.

That seemed to be happening far too often lately.

"Wanna know what else isn't gonna happen?" He was on you before you could sit up, hands placed on either side of your body and arms caging you in. "You aren't gonna sit there and pretend like you don't have a thing for me."

"Why the hell does it matter?" You scoffed. "You don't feel the same, so just let it go. Try your best not to be a prick for once."

The words pulled at your chest, but the silence was worse. Abundant and humid, it hung over the air like a toxic gas as Dabi stared at you.

"Are you fucking serious?"

"I-"

"Do you know how fucking hard it was to watch you sit there and bat those pretty, little eyes and go on and on about how much you liked me? How hard it was to say no when you, of all people, are practically begging for me to take you?"

"So, you just wanted to sleep with me."

Rolling his eyes, he smirked. "If I wanted a simple fuck from you, I would've done it yesterday when you were frothing at the mouth."

"I was not." You mumbled, face heating.

"Oh, come on, princess. You gotta admit how needy you are for me at some point." Dabi cradled your chin with his hand, pulling your face upward as he inched closer, the warmth of his breath tickling your ear and sending a chill down your spine. "Or else I can't show you how much I like you."

Tongue running across your neck, his free hand moved under your shirt, hesitating just enough to give you a chance to pull away. When you didn't, his fingers traveled beneath your bra, cupping your chest gently.

He pinched your nipple, earning a small moan. "So, let's hear it."

"Fuck," you cursed, back arching into the warmth of his touch. "Yeah, fine. I like you too, or whatever."

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "You can do better than that."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're an idiot." He pushed his lips against yours, tongue skimming the bottom, begging for entrance, a request that you happily indulged.

The heat of his touch coursed over your body, warm and inviting and absolutely nothing like the mask he wore. It felt safe, a pure contradiction to what the world saw. The idea that he was only like this with you made your chest feel light.

When he pulled back, taking that heat with him, it was like the air had been sucked from your lungs. Still, the way that he looked at you had a pleasant fervor running through your limbs.

"How the hell could I not like you?"

[thelaundrybitch]

*kicks the door down to your inbox and waddles in*

Mrs. LANDRY! I'm back! (I heard you was lonely so I decided to come bug you LiKe I dO) and I have a small inquiry for you if you're up for disclosure!

How do you think the Bayverse turtles would respond to someone giving them a full-body hug? Like you know, arms and legs? The whole koala shibang.

Just curious on your opinion cuz I'm not too familiar with these turtles as I am with others.

AnYhOo, also I know I said I was working on something for you and I promise that is still the case, its just suddenly changed directions and I'm still trying to figure out where its headed 😅

Just wanted to drop in and give you some love and remind you that you're ✨fabulous✨ darling 🧡👊🏼

~AnOnYmOuS

Well, Anon, It's been a hot minute since you sent this. I was planning on doing some hcs or really short scenarios for all the guys.

HOWEVER. Michelangelo Menace Hamato refused to let anyone else play Koala'd. Perhaps someday I'll get to the rest

And while you were the amazing one who sent this ask in, my dearest Anon, I am going to dedicate it to the lovely @milykins 🧡

18+ I deem this partially spicy-ish.🌶️

Make what you will of that.

So, without further ado, I give you, some quality Tactical Mike...

Koala'd

Koala'd

He was out again. On mission. And as the leader of the tactical team, he almost always ended up in the most dangerous and scariest position.

For years, even as his bestie, he had forbidden you to watch the body cams at Don’s security desk- even if Splinter was right there. 

But ever since six months ago, when you'd finally found the courage to tell the elderly rat of your long-time feelings for the tactical leader, he had allowed you to sit with him and watch.

Although he made you SWEAR not to breathe a word of it to Michelangelo.

So here you sat, side by side with Splinter, chewing on your fingernails, gasping every few moments with your eyes wide and glued to his body cam. 

You watched as his weapon was knocked from his hand, and he was knocked to the ground. 

You listened as he screamed in pain. Your hand jutting out and grabbing onto Splinter's arm.

You heard the unmistakable sound of a cracking shell.

“OH GOD NO!” You yelled, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Hey! What's going on?!”

You gasped, releasing Splinter's arm to spin towards the familiar voice coming from behind you.

“MIKE?!” Your voice trembled as you glanced over his clean, tactical gear, not a scratch on him.

You took off at a run, his arms open with a look of concern laced into his expression.

Leaping into his welcoming embrace, your arms moved around his neck in a tight squeeze, and your thighs squeezed his hips.

“Sunflower, what's wrong? What's going on?” He asked, one hand on a thigh to keep you in place, the other holding you tight against him.

“Mike, it's so dangerous. Oh my God, why do you do this?” You fretted, squeezing him harder. 

He let out a hard sigh. “Because if I didn't, then innocent beings would get hurt or die,” he said softly, his thumb rubbing small lines up and down your spine between your shoulder blades.

“Who cares! What about you? You need to stay safe, too! You don't need to go into situations that are so incredibly dangerous!” You scolded him excitedly.

Mike laughed softly, “Are you referring to the footage you were just watching?” 

You pulled back and looked at him, nodding.

“If I hadn't gone into that incredibly dangerous situation, I wouldn't have you here now, stuck to me like a baby koala.” His voice was soft and kind as his eyes roamed your face.

“What?” You whispered, looking confusedly from him to Splinter, who was smirking slyly, and back to him again.

“That’s the night I saved you in that warehouse from the wolves.”

Your face sobered, eyes going wide with realization. 

“We take the bad with the good, Sunflower. And despite being cracked open like a nut, that was the best night of my life. Because I found you.”

Your hands moved to his face, and you crashed your lips into his. Between fervid kisses, you managed a soft, “I love you, Michelangelo.”

“I've loved you for a long time, my Sunflower.” The long, passionate kisses he indulged spoke volumes more than his words had.

“Ahem.” The old rat’s feigned throat clearing brought the pair of you back to the moment.

Huffing out a small, embarrassed giggle, you shifted and attempted to slide back onto your feet.

Attempted.

When Michelangelo held you tight in place, you looked up at him, brows furrowed.

“If you think I'm letting you slip out of my arms just because my sneaky father over there is clearing his throat, you have another thing coming,” voice firm, gaze deadly serious.

“Wha-”

He didn't let you finish your thought. Instead, you heard a click followed by some sort of restraint coming between your thighs and up across your back. Snapping the restraint up over your shoulder and clipping it to his, he does the same with the other side.

“I'm not letting you escape now that I've finally got you where I want you - especially now!” exaggerating his exasperation with a comical eye-bulging expression.

“You want me glued to you like a baby Koala?” You laughed at his intentional idiocy. 

A face-splitting smile was accompanied by frantic nodding, making you laugh harder.

“And what the hell do you mean, ‘especially now’?!” You questioned him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He did an about-face, walking towards the door with you now strapped to him. A naughty grin crossed his face as he pressed your core against him. Lips to your ear, he whispered, “Because you're concealing a deadly weapon.”

Please don't steal my work. Reblogging for others to enjoy is highly encouraged, though🤩

~tags~

@leosgirl82 @leoandraphssoulmate @wynndigogh @limitedsympathy @scholastic-dragon

@the-cauldron-witch @sophiacloud28 @avery73 @tmnt-tychou @thepinkpanther83

@justalotoffanfiction @yorshie @ferox-imagines @eveandtheturtles @iridescentflamingo

@luckycharms1701 @raphsmuneca @oozedninjas @redsrooftopprincess @silverwatergalaxy

@ninnosaurus @trufflemacandcheese @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @gornackeaterofworlds @mxalmighty

@zombiesnips-blog @xanadu-702 @rebel-hamato @pheradream-15 @adebauchedsloth

@iheartchv @t-annuki @fyreball66 @misty-angerose @meowph-132

@thomariealtsstuff @peachesdabunny @the-dying-star @so-called-yokai @shakeyourtrees

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 4, Unwelcome - Pt. 1*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Explicit Sexual Content - Minors: GTFO; I don’t serve your kind here - (oral (f receiving), unprotected PIV (only okay if one of you is a super solider who can't contract/spread, otherwise, wrap it before you tap it), bad jokes (should be a given at this point, really), dummies not understanding feelings.

Word Count: 2.6k

Previously On...: Bucky returned from his mission and your reunion got a little spicier than intended... not that either one of you is complaining! Deciding not to make it a one-time thing, you both agree to try a friends-with-benefits arrangement. What could possibly go wrong?

A/N: Yay! More smut! Aren't we all so lucky! <3 I magically managed to plow my way through writing Chapter 10 tonight, which means ya'll get Chapter 4, Part 1 a little earlier than I anticipated! I have to confess that I love the stupid banter between Bucky and Pocket. Their dumb playfulness is so #goals for me, lol. You've got a lot of fluff and such coming your way for a few chapters, meanwhile I'm at the point where I'm just writing all the angst and it is making me so sad. I subconsciously keep trying to fix it because I hate having them be at odds, but the story needs pain! And therefore I must make my babies suffer. Not right now, though. Right now is smut, smut, smut! Enjoy!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @jmeelee @cazellen @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @erelierraceala

You sat in your office, head bent over the latest budget requests from your lab staff. You tended to be pretty generous when it came to project funding, but this $15 million request for a proposed shrink ray had to be some sort of a joke. Did they want a lawsuit from Pym Technologies? A knock on your door drew your attention away from the submission in front of you.

"Come in," you called out, putting the shrink ray proposal in your rejection pile. Bucky entered your office, flashing you a seductive smile as he closed and locked the door behind him.

Leaning back in your desk chair, you let your eyes rove over his frame as he walked toward you. He'd obviously just come from the gym, his muscles glistening with a sheen of sweat and his t-shirt clinging to his sculpted chest. The sight of him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but feel a now familiar heat building between your legs. He looked absolutely gorgeous. "You're not my GrubHub order," you teased.

"Not your GrubHub," he said, coming around to sit on the edge of your desk, "but I bet I can fill you up just as good."

You both stared at each other for a beat before bursting into laughter. "Oh my God, Barnes," you groaned, standing up and wrapping your arms around his neck. "That was absolutely awful." You kissed him, relishing the feel of his laughter against your mouth. "I can't believe I willingly let you put your dick in me, jokes like that."

Bucky's laughter faded into a heated gaze as his hands traveled up your sides, sending shivers down your spine. "Well," he whispered huskily, his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, "I'm glad you let me, because all I can think about is doing it again."

"Then it's a very good thing you locked that door," you whispered back, trying to ignore the wetness his words sent straight to your panties.

His fingers traced the outline of your jaw, his feather-light touch igniting a trail of desire along your skin. The familiar weight of his presence grounded you, drawing you closer. Together, like this, it was as if you were the only two people in the world, as if no one else existed.

"I've been thinking about you all day," Bucky confessed, his voice laced with a mixture of longing and hunger. "Couldn't focus on anything else but getting my hands on you."

"I've been right here." You took a hand and palmed him through his sweats. He was already rock hard, ready for you.

"Tease," he moaned, slotting his lips over yours again.

Your breath hitched as he kissed you, a surge of electricity coursing through your veins. The heat between you intensified with each kiss, fueling the fire that burned deep within. The taste of him was addictive, and you wondered how you had spent over a year in his company without kissing him before now.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling back from you. “I don’t have a condom. I could go get one, come back…”

You shook your head, not wanting to delay another moment. You knew the serum made him immune to catching or passing on any STIs, and you were clean. “I’m on the pill, Bucky,” you said, bringing your lips to his again. “And I wanna feel you. So fucking bad.”

“Thank God for modern fucking medicine,” he grinned.

Bucky's hands roamed over your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He expertly unbuttoned your blouse without taking his mouth from yours, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

"You seem to have forgotten your bra, Pocket," he murmured before taking his mouth to your nipple, swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently. Your knees weakened at the sensation, and you gripped onto his shoulders for support.

"Mmm, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back as he switched his attention to your other breast, giving it the same lavish treatment. The wetness pooled between your thighs, leaving you aching for his touch.

He stepped back abruptly, his eyes dark with desire as he reached down to unbutton your skirt. "I've been dying to taste you," he murmured, his voice thick with need.

You eagerly stepped out of your skirt, revealing the black lace panties that barely covered your soaking slit. Bucky's gaze darkened further as he looked at you, hungrily taking in every inch of your exposed body.

"Fuck," he breathed, stepping closer to you "You wear these just for me?" You just smiled at him, biting your lower lip. You had worn them just for him, but he didn't need to know that. With one swift motion, he lifted you up and placed you on the edge of your desk. The cool wood felt delicious against your heated skin as Bucky hooked his fingers around the sides of your panties, pulling them down your legs and stuffing them into the pocket of his pants.

"Thief," you chastised, but he only smirked at you as he dropped to his knees in front of you, his warm breath fanning across your slick folds as he hooked your legs over his shoulders.

You grasped the edge of the desk, your heart pounding in anticipation as he leaned forward and dipped his tongue between your swollen lips. A moan escaped you at the first touch of his velvety tongue against your throbbing clit. "Holy shit, Buck," you groaned. "Just like that."

"I knew you'd be delicious," he moaned into you.

Bucky's skilled tongue worked its magic, flicking and swirling with an expertise that sent waves of pleasure radiating through your body. Your head fell back, exposing your neck as you surrendered yourself to the sensations he was evoking. Each lick and suck was like an electric shock to your core, building the tension coiling within you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer as he devoured you with an insatiable hunger. The intensity of his ministrations brought you to the edge faster than expected, the coil within you tightening with an urgency that demanded release. You whimpered, your moans growing louder with each pass of his tongue.

"Bucky," you panted, pulling on his hair to drag him up. "Bucky I need you. I need you right now." Your voice was desperate, your body craving the feel of his thickness inside you.

Bucky's eyes were filled with a predatory glint as he stood up, his lips glistening with the evidence of your arousal. He swiftly rid himself of his sweats, releasing his swollen, throbbing length that begged to be inside you. The air crackled with tension as he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips firmly.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his voice rough with desire.

You locked eyes with him, the intensity of your connection sparking a fire within you. "I want you inside me," you gasped, your voice filled with a desperate need.

Without any further warning, Bucky plunged into you with a force that stole your breath. The sensation of being filled by him, stretched and taken to the brink of reason, sent shock waves coursing through every nerve ending in your body. You cried out in ecstasy, the sound mingling with his own groan of pleasure.

"Jesus Christ, Pocket," he moaned, "you're so fucking tight."

He set a punishing pace, driving into you with a raw need that matched your own. The sensation of him sliding in and out of you sent sparks of delight shooting through your veins. Your hands clawed at his back, urging him to move faster, harder.

Each stroke hit that sweet spot deep within you, igniting fireworks in your body. The desk creaked beneath the force of your movements, the sound echoing throughout the room.

"Fuck," Bucky grunted, his hips slapping against yours with a primal intensity, "turn around."

He pulled out of you and flipped you, bending you over the desk before thrusting back into you from behind. The new angle allowed him to hit you deeper than before, and you could feel the tip of him kiss your cervix.

The desk continued to shake as Bucky pounded into you, the raw power behind each thrust pushing you closer to the edge of release. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your moans filling the air as ecstasy rippled through your body.

Sweat dripped down both of your bodies, glistening in the dim light of the office. The urgency between you was palpable, a desperate hunger that consumed every inch of your being. You could feel the tension building within you, coiling tighter and tighter.

"I'm...I'm so close," you managed to pant out, your voice strained with need. "Don't stop, Bucky."

He groaned in response, his thrusts becoming more erratic, his hips slamming against yours with an almost brutal force. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, drowning out any other noise.

Bucky's gaze bore into yours as you turned to look at him, his eyes filled with a mixture of lust and adoration. His grip on your hips tightened even further, his fingers leaving imprints on your skin as he pistoned in and out of you. The sensations he stoked within you built to an unbearable peak, threatening to consume you both.

With one final powerful thrust, Bucky sent you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You cried out his name, your body convulsing as waves of bliss coursed through every fiber of your being. It was an explosion that left you breathless and trembling, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

Bucky followed suit, ropes of his spend spilling into you as he found his own release. He bent his body over yours, burying his face in the curve of your neck, his moans muffled against your skin as he rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was heavy breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats pounding in your ears. Your bodies were entangled, sweaty and spent from the intense release that had just washed over you. Bucky's grip on your hips slowly loosened as he pulled out of you, his length slipping free with a wet sound.

ith a shaky sigh, you turned around and immediately collapsed back onto the desk, your legs trembling from the sheer euphoria that had consumed you moments ago. Bucky stood there, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. His eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness as he looked down at you.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before moving to stand in front of you. His fingers gently brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during your climax. You reached up, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing them to your lips for a gentle kiss.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his voice. "I didn't hurt you, did I? I went a little harder than I meant to."

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "No, Bucky. That was... incredible. You didn't hurt me, you made me feel amazing." You paused, looking up into his eyes, filled with genuine affection. "You always make me feel amazing."

His gaze softened, and he brushed his thumb against your cheekbone. You moved to hop down from your desk, but your knees gave out, refusing to hold you.

"Hey, I've got you," Bucky said with a laugh as he steadied you, supporting you as though you weighed nothing. He began slowly buttoning your shirt back up, then slid your skirt back up your thighs.

"I think you ruined my legs," you giggled as he planted a kiss on your navel before tucking your shirt back into your skirt.

"Sorry 'bout that," he said with a smirk as he straightened up.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Yeah, I'm sure you feel really bad about it," you grinned.

He leaned in close to your ear. "Not even a little bit," he whispered, as though it was a conspiratorial secret. God, just his proximity and the sound of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

"Looking to go for Round Two already, doll?" he asked you as he took in your physical response to him with a smug smile.

"I don't think my desk can take another go at the moment, or my legs, for that matter." You tried standing up again and were pleased to find that, though your knees were still weak, you were able to hold yourself upright. You glanced over to see Bucky watching you with a shit-eating grin. "You look a little too proud of yourself, you know."

"Tell me it's not fully deserved." He grinned at you like a mother fucking cat who had just found a saucer of cream. You rolled your eyes as you began picking up the avalanche of papers that had fallen from your desk to the floor. Bucky came around and bent over to help set your office back to rights.

Once everything was back in its proper place, you stood back to admire your work. No one would know that you'd been thoroughly railed here just a few minutes before. You watched as Bucky picked up the framed photo you kept of the two of you on your desk.

It was from your trip to the New York Botanical Gardens last winter. Bucky had confessed to you that, due to spending so much time on ice while under Hydra's control, he'd developed an intense hatred-- almost fear-- of cold weather. So, when a particularly brutal cold snap had him feeling exceptionally out of sorts, you'd taken him up to the Bronx to visit the Enid A. Haupt Conservatory, where you spent the day meandering through the paths of the hothouse, surrounded by humidity and tropical plants as though you were in the middle of the rainforest. In the photo, Bucky stood next to you with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, your hands hanging off of his forearm as he leaned into you and kissed your temple. Your face was scrunched up into a ridiculous smile.

"That was a great day," Bucky said, tracing the photo with a flesh finger. "I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me, means to me, that you did that for me." His voice had dropped to something deeper, softer.

You felt something in your heart flutter at his words, the sensation new and a little frightening. The sensation made you nervous in a way you couldn't identify. "Buck," you said, swallowing thickly, "there's not much I wouldn't do for you. I hope you know that."

His crystal blue eyes bore into you as he looked at you, almost as though he was waiting for you to say something more. When you didn't, he let out a sigh and placed the photo back on your desk.

Looking back up at you, the intensity was gone from his gaze. "You hungry? I figure we must have burned enough calories to justify a big lunch." His cocky grin was back in place.

"Yeah, that sounds perfect," you said, linking your arm in his and patently ignoring the way the contact sent a swell of affection through your heart. "Let me pop into the bathroom to clean up, and then we're good to go."

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[moonlightazriel]

The truth about you /// Azriel X F!Reader

Summary: Azriel knew everything about her and her family filled with criminals, or that's what he thought, what if the truth was different from what he have heard?

Warnings: Angst, fluff and a bit of smut.

Word Count: 2,9K

Notes: I think I'm slowly finding my way back into writing and it feels so good, this has been sitting on my drafts for a while but still needed to finish it, but here we are. I'm feeling better and thank you for all the patience and support.

Main Masterlist

“I have a mission for you.” These were the words that led him there, the task was simple, receive a package, and take back to the House of Wind. The problem? The package came in the form of a beautiful woman, with dark hair reaching her waistline, cunning brown eyes, and too much attitude.

She kept looking around Velaris all the way until he should fly her to the House, stating that she never saw such a beautiful place before, and would be a nice place to stay for a while. Azriel admired her figure as they walked, she was just a few inches shorter than him and her clothes were a bit too tight on her curvy body.

The stranger also smelled really nice as he pulled her closer, bringing her up and flying towards the balcony of the House of Wind, where Rhys was waiting for them. She clung to him but took the flying adrenaline incredibly well for someone wingless. He smirked at that, liking how she wasn’t afraid of falling to the city below.

Whowever, his hopes of even becoming her friend vanished as Rhysand opened his mouth, greeting her with a rather cheerful “Y/N Caidan, what a pleasure to meet you.” The only daughter of Eldar Caidan, a very wanted man on the Illyrian Steppes for numerous crimes. He felt disgusted, wanting to get as far as he could from her. That was the beginning of his torment.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

She moved her hips as she walked, knowing that this drove him mad and his eyes were glued to her back as they made their way to Rhysand’s office, she could hear the annoyed huffs he let out, so used to them in the two years they’d been working together. Azriel wasn’t easy to deal with, especially with the unpleasant side he reserved especially for her.

Three knocks and Rhys shouted that they could come in, dropping the papers containing sensitive information on the dark wooden desk, she sat, legs crossed as she stretched her back, feeling her sore muscles ache from all the effort.

“As you asked Rhys, everything about those secret Illyrian reunions.” He looked at her, his eyes stopping at the fading purple marks around her eyes, behind her Azriel stood, silent as the dead.

“You two are a great duo, despite everything, thank you. You two can go and rest.” She nodded, walking out of the office and heading to her house in the town, all she could think was about the warm bath that she would take later. 

“I don’t want to question your judgment, but why do you trust her, Rhys? Especially with this kind of mission.” He spoke, his throat dry as he barely used his voice in the week they’d been together on a mission.

“Because she’s good at what she does and she’s a good person.” Rhys spoke dryly, tired of this same conversation, this have been happening for the past two years without a break. Azriel had to stop the urge to roll his eyes at the answer.

“A good person that came from a family of criminals.” He knew he sounded like a whining kid but it wasn’t possible that he was the only one in his right mind that didn’t trust her, her family invaded Illyrian camps for years, murdering the females. Azriel had come to the camps a couple of times, blood everywhere, clothes sliced, and the smell of fear mixed with panic, and a scent so familiar the one lingering on her every damned time. If he closed his eyes, he could still see and smell the fresh blood. What made his blood run even colder was that they never left bodies behind, Mother knows what those monsters did with them.

“We cannot judge a child for the mistakes of their parents, can we?” It stung, cuz he knew that Rhysand was right, but he still couldn’t let his guard down around her, he knew that she was planning something, he just needed to figure it out.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“How was the mission?” Morrigan asked, sipping on her glass of wine, while Y/N finished with the charcuterie board she was making for the two.

“Good, got everything that I needed, Azriel just made my life extremely difficult but I’m used to it by now.” She took a bite from a piece of cheese, took the board, and headed for the tiny balcony adorned with little lights and a great view of the Sidra, the soft summer breeze made her shiver a little but she sat down, with Mor following her closely.

“Maybe you should just tell him, I know he will understand.” She scoffed.

“Mor, are we talking about the same person? Azriel won’t understand, he won’t even listen to me. And I don’t want to share my story with him, if he doesn’t trust me, I don’t have any reasons to tell him. He can discover on his own if he wants to find the truth so bad.” Mor lifted her hands in surrender while Y/N took a long sip from her wine. “But at least I don’t mind looking at his pretty face.” Morrigan laughed. 

“Don’t even tell me, the Mother took her time making that one, and I don’t even like men.” The two laughed. 

“Morrigan, things got dirty and he headed to a lake to clean himself, I almost drowned in my drool as I watched the water run down those abs, he’s truly beautiful, such a shame he’s an asshole.” She gave Y/N a severe look.

“Even if I don’t agree, Azriel has been through a lot, he just doesn’t trust people easily, and with the outlaw fame your family has, he’s just waiting for the betrayal, once he sees that things aren’t always as they seem, you will see that he’s such a gentle and kind male, he has a good heart.” 

“I know Mor, it’s just…. I’m tired of being judged and treated like a monster, he treats me so badly, he always questions my abilities and makes me feel like I’m less worth it, that I’m inferior to everyone.” Mor placed a warm hand on her knee.

“I’ll have another talk with him, he can hate you all he wants, but he won’t treat you like this.” Y/N smiled at her,  feeling her heart warm at the thoughtful words of her best friend. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

“You hit like a girl.” Nesta teased and Y/N rolled her eyes, she aimed for Nesta’s right side, where she quickly went to defend but she turned the other way, hitting her left side, making the oldest Archeron gasp for air.

“Thanks!” She offered a hand to Nesta, which she gladly took, and the two headed to the water station on the other side of the ring, the sun was at its highest in the sky, making the temperature almost unbearable, only the girls were training today, so there was a lot of skin showing around that balcony.

She saw the shadows from the corner of her eyes before she saw the Shadowsinger, when she turned, he looked slightly paler, eyes wide and looking like he had seen a ghost, her skin felt uncomfortable under his gaze, still fixed on her, she quickly removed the tie from her hair, letting it fall behind her, hiding her exposed back as she darted out of the room. 

“Cassian’s looking for you.” He managed to say, her smell still fresh in the air, and the image of her exposed back still replaying in his mind, two big scars marking each side of her shoulder blades, in the same place Illyrian wings should be. He turned on his heels, ready to follow after her, but Nesta stopped him.

“Azriel, don’t.” She warned him, her fingertips were cold against his skin, and he knew that he should let that go, for now.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

The image of her scarred back didn’t leave his mind for days, and ever since he saw her, she’s been avoiding him, every time she sees him entering a room, her expression changes and she leaves immediately, this pissed him off a bit. But as much as he wanted to ask about it, he knew that he shouldn’t push her into answering, he would have to find it on his own.

Then, he was reminded why he didn’t trust her in the first place, as she poked her head outside Rhysand’s office, looking both sides and only stepping out when she was sure no one was around, a pile of papers clutched to her chest. A chill in his spine told him he needed to follow her and get to the bottom of his suspicions. 

It was nightfall when she emerged out of her room, her leathers and weapons in place, her hair in a bun, she moved quietly, and as she passed by him, he could see that she had the reports on the northern camp that was supposed to receive new females in a few days, the papers tucked on the bag strapped around her torso. His blood ran cold as he understood what was happening.

She would take the information to her family and they would execute the females, he knew he had to stop her, but would be better if he stopped all of them at once. So he quietly followed her, for days, only stopping in an inn, she had taken a room and he was currently drinking some wine and eating the food offered there, regaining the energy to do what he had to.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

Y/N watched from the top of the stairs as her brother and cousin dragged the spymaster’s body with them, a lazy smirk on her lips as she thanked the innkeeper for helping her, a bag of gold coins dropped on the counter and she was on her way, to her family’s secret war camp. 

“I’ll take care of him now.” She said as they all reached Miramaris, her family war camp. Azriel was still asleep as the males placed him in the chair, chaining him so he wouldn’t try to escape before she could explain.

Y/n watched him throughout the night, not even once looking away from him, she ran a hand through his soft hair, sighing as she stretched her part of the bond until it hit the emptiness on the other side as it hadn’t snapped for him yet. She had known he was her mate for about two months now.

A late night travel to the library, where he was also reading, it only took one look in her direction, him scoffing and getting up to leave for the bond to snap, leaving her astonished and stuck in the same place for a couple of minutes, wondering what teh hell would she do.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

His head hurt and everything felt dizzy, he didn’t recognize the room he was in, but he could tell the walls were made of stone, people walked outside and he could hear the sound of metal against metal like someone was training. His hands were restrained by chains and the was a soft light on top of his head.

The steps grew closer to his cell, the heavy door swung open and three males walked in, and behind them Y/N was smiling, approaching him.

“See that you met my family, quite nice people, don’t you think?” He scoffed.

“If you think murdering people is a nice thing, then sure, amazing people.” His tone was laced with sarcasm. He eyed Eldar and the other males with pure hatred, fighting against the chains, he tried to call for Rhysand but his mind was still too foggy to reach so far.

“He still thinks that’s what we do?” The older male asked and smiled. “Rhys will be quite disappointed that you think he would let us walk freely if we were really murdering these females.”

“Dad, let me do the talking, I’m used to the pretty frown by now.” His heart fluttered as the word pretty left her lips. “Maybe bring some food, chicken with mashed potatoes is his favorite.” Again, his heart beat faster as she spoke, does she really pay attention to him like that? Eldar nodded, patting his daughter on the head, he could see the love in the gaze he directed to her, at least he loved his daughter, he wasn’t a complete monster.

“I don’t want anything from you.” He spat, and she walked closer, lowering her body until they were facing eye to eye.

“And here I was, ready to give the only thing you’ve been wanting from me ever since we met.” He cursed as his traitorous mind wandered to where his darkest thoughts hid in his mind, the images that would come late at night when he was alone, of her, splayed open to him, soaking cunt as he readied himself to take her how he wanted, the number of times he touched himself thinking about her, he didn’t trust her in the slightest, but that didn’t mean he didn’t find her attractive.

Truth be told, he still thought about her, and her body drove him mad, usually after training he would rush to his room to take a cold shower to stop his furious hormones from making him walk to her room and do all the dirty things he wanted to do to her. The fact that he was head over heels for her only angered him more.

“I grew up in a very traditional Illyrian family, but you see, my grandfather used to think that clipping wasn’t enough, removing a female’s wings was the way to go for him.” Her hands grabbed the hem of her shirt, lifting above her head, the laced black bra was hard not to look at, but his throat went dry as she turned her back to him, the scars were even uglier up close and he felt his heart clenched on his chest. “ My father only had enough courage to leave when he came home one day, he found my grandfather placing a new piece of decoration in the living room.” He knew what it was, but it didn’t hurt less as the words left her mouth. “My wings, so tiny, I was just a child. From that day, he swore no female would ever go through something like that again.” 

She turned to him again, shirt going back to place, as their eyes met, hers were filled with tears. 

“Do you wish to see our work?” He nodded and she motioned for him to follow but he shook his hands and she remembered about the chains. “Right, you’re cuffed. Would love to see you chained somewhere else but we don’t have time for that now.” The words sent a rush of blood straight to his cock.

He followed her, the mountain was warm, and as they walked around, he spotted hundreds of females, some training, some doing chores, but all of them were undeniably happy as they walked around with their wings held proudly behind them. 

“Welcome to Miramaris.” She gestured to the open space. “We raid the camps, and we forge the scene, they don’t bother looking for them anyway. Started with small cabins and barely any resources, but as Rhys’s father learned about this place, he helped us, he was a disgusting man but even he knew this was wrong, Rhys kept helping us after, and he invited me to work with him closely after I've been targeted by a rival camp, he saved my life, and he knows what we’re doing. We’re not the monsters here Az.”

He felt bad for all this time he judged her without even bothering to learn the truth about her. They were looking to an open field, some females were bathing in a lake that crossed the mountain. There were hundreds of them, even children were running around, this place was everything he dreamed for the camps to be. 

“I don’t even know how to apologize to you.” He said honestly.

“Help us save them, the females need me, they need us. You can come with me as my partner… “Nothing would’ve prepared him for the words that left her mouth next. “As my mate!”

“Your what?” He looked at her incredulously. 

“That night in the library? Where I found you in your cute pajamas?” The memory came back to him and he nodded. “ It was when it snapped for me, decided to tell you cuz you know the truth now and I would like to be told if it was the other way around.” He nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the information he received in a short amount of time. “You don’t have to say anything, but if you’re willing to give this a try, meet me tomorrow night right here, we have more females to save.” She said, turning her back to him and walking away.

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

He saw her before she saw him, and as he watched her frame lean against the wall, dressed all in black and looking around expectantly, he felt, the bond making itself known for him, he could feel her on the other side, waiting for him with a warm heart filled with love, love for him.

“You came.” She smiled. Her eyes glowing with emotion as she felt a wave of feeling flooding her chest and as she reached for the other side of the bond, Azriel was there, waiting for her with open arms. 

“I would never let my mate go alone, never again.” He pulled her close, hand wrapped around her waist as he kissed her, her soft lips made him feel at home as she kissed him back. “Let’s go and rescue them.” He said, grabbing her in his arms, she let out an excited squeal as he leaped to the sky, taking her with him. 

[empresskylo]

beneath the mask ✩ chapter 3 ⬅ch. 2

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. wc 2.5k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i do not have a tag list.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the following week involved you being the only medic on base and having to treat every soldier on your own; briefing sessions with soap; a few awkward run-ins with ghost; and a shit load of anxiety.

you couldn’t get over the fact that you were about to walk side by side with the most dangerous men in the world on the most important mission you’ve ever been on. soap was acting like it was no big deal—they do this kind of stuff all the time, he had said. you had to remind soap that you were new to this division and weren’t exactly a skilled killer like the rest of the men. you were used to helping wounded men when they were carted back to base, not being in on the action.

“soap,” you whined as the larger man refused to let you take a break from your current training match. “i wasn’t built for this,” you said dramatically, collapsing on the mats beneath you. 

soap chuckled, his hands resting on his hips. “i’m just tryin’ to prepare ya. ghost isn’t gonna go so easy on you.”

“ghost?” you asked, sitting upright–a bit faster than someone who wasn’t constantly thinking about their lieutenant would.

soap stuck a hand out and grabbed yours, heaving you up to stand before him again. 

“ghost insisted on makin’ sure we all met his standards.”

you knew this was about you and gaz specifically, even if he didn’t say it. these men were already the best of the best, that's how they got recruited into this task force. but gaz being recently hurt, and you not coming from a combat background, was probably plaguing his thoughts. 

“oh, wonderful,” you said sarcastically. you were almost positive soap was oblivious to your weird dynamic with ghost, but you couldn’t be one hundred percent certain; soap’s perceptiveness could surprise you sometimes.

you downed your water and stretched a bit more waiting for your imminent doom. 

gaz approached you, his arm outstretched over his head. 

“how’s your hand?” you asked him.

gaz released his stretch with a satisfied grunt and then held up his now unbandaged hand, smiling. 

“and your ribs?”

“still a bit sore. just glad they’re not broken.”

you smiled. “just don’t go too hard training today, okay?”

gaz mock saluted you. “yes, doctor.” you rolled your eyes. 

gaz had pulled you into a sparring match, trying to get your reflexes to actually function properly for when you’d be out in the field with the men.

you growled in frustration as gaz got another killing blow lined up. 

“dead. again,” he said with a laugh. 

“glad you find my suffering entertaining.” 

you felt your body tense and you knew that ghost had just strolled into the training room. you had a weird way of sensing whenever he was around. it was like he made the air thicker of any room he walked in to.

you tried to keep your focus on gaz. he grabbed your hands and helped you adjust your hand wraps that were starting to loosen around your knuckles. your eyes flickered over gaz’s shoulder and you spotted him.

his eyes were already on you and you felt your blood pressure drastically rise. you immediately looked back to gaz and tried to pay attention to what he was saying to you. 

“ready to go again?” he asked when he decided your hands were wrapped properly. you nodded.

after what felt like an eternity, ghost appeared beside the two of you, observing as gaz was in the process of showing you a new defense move.

gaz reached around you with his foot, knocking you off balance and sending you colliding with the mat. 

“jesus,” you mumbled, both amazed and annoyed with him. 

gaz chuckled and reached out a hand to help you up. you were impressed at his composed and collected attitude knowing what was about to happen in a few days' time. you, personally, couldn’t get your heart to stop racing worrying about everything that might go wrong. 

you ignored ghost’s eyes on you as gaz tried to demonstrate the move he just did once again. 

you attempted everything he showed you, repairing the order of the stances in your head as you executed each one, and you sent him flying on his back. 

“shit, nice job,” gaz praised. 

you helped him up when a looming presence from behind you startled you.

“oh!” you jumped, looking up at ghost who was only inches from your chest. “hi, lt.”

ghost was wearing one of his thinner balaclavas again, paired with a long-sleeved black shirt–that disappointingly didn’t have its sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos–and dark tactical pants. he was a new level of intimidating without all his gear on. you felt like your body was going to melt from the heat he was putting off.

“she’s never gonna learn like that,” he grunted out, directly his words at gaz but holding your gaze. 

you knew gaz was letting you knock him on his ass, but how else would you understand the basics of the moves he was teaching you? if he blocked you and went on defense every time you went to try, you wouldn’t be able to learn anything. gaz had years of training on you.

gaz mumbled something about taking a break and you began to panic. shit.

“open your legs,” ghost demanded. 

a sudden blaze of heat raced up your chest and to your face. your eyes must have turned to moons because ghost’s foot jutted out to kick between your own and widen your stance as if to tell you to get your head out of the gutter.

you adjusted your feet and felt gaz slip off behind the two of you. 

just you and ghost now. great. 

“your waist feeling okay?” you asked, pointing towards the area of his wound from the week prior. 

he nodded. “good as new.”

“good. that’s good,” you said awkwardly. 

you both looked at one another, your cheeks warming, before ghost cut you out of your daydream. “arms should always be at the ready.” 

you lifted your own and did as he said, mirroring him, and taking on a solid but readying posture.

“now, try to hook your leg behind my own.”

you nodded, the heat from earlier subsided just to be replaced with the rushing sound of your heart beating in your ear. you prayed ghost didn’t have super hearing, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

you dipped down slightly and tried to get your leg to wrap behind ghost’s, aiming to knock him backward. 

before your foot even made it where you wanted it to go, ghost had spun you around and sent you stumbling back. 

“again,” he demanded. 

you took in a breath before approaching back up to him and going at it again. 

he blocked your attack and you tripped over his feet and fell to the mat. 

“again.”

you felt the sweat bead on your forehead, out of both anger and exertion.

and again he knocked you back. 

“this isn’t going to help!” you finally said, a scowl on your face. 

“don’t like bein’ pushed? think any of those men out there will give a damn about that? think they’ll give a shit that you’re just a medic?”

you let out an irritated breath. “i just don’t think training me like this will get me anywhere.”

“oh, and how would you like t’be trained then?”

you stared at him in silence. 

“should i let you tackle me to t’ground?” his voice was deeper than earlier, sending shivers up your spine. “is catering to your ego that important you’d risk your life?”

“this has nothing to do with my ego.” your voice felt faint as you struggled to come up with an argument. you were frustrated, sure. but he was right in a way. any bad guy you cross out in the field isn’t going to give a shit that you’re a medic and not a trained soldier. and you did not want to fucking die. 

“no? then go again.”

you brushed off your pants and readied your stance, going at him again. in an agile ebbed movement, you went flying to the ground. again.

you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him. frustrated beyond belief, and exhausted from already training for hours today. you did something you wouldn’t have normally done if you weren’t so peeved off. you sprung to your feet and rushed into him. ghost caught your hand but you spun around behind him, making him grunt as your foot collided with the back of his knee. 

he bent forward and you jumped onto his back. he had to release your hand in fear of choking himself out. ghost was so caught off guard that he sank to his knees. you caught your breath, still clinging to him. you may not have got him to go all the way down, but still, you managed something. 

“now if you’ll–” ghost cut your words short, shifting his weight so you slid sideways and he grabbed your waist and sent you sprawling out before him. before your back hit the mat, you grabbed his shirt, yanking him downward with you. his hands caught himself on either side of your head, his hips between your legs, his torso almost touching yours as you breathed heavily. 

ghost’s eyes bore into yours as he loomed over you. heat rushed to your face as you felt his hips pressing against your own, trapping you below his impressive weight. your hands were still tied up in his shirt, your heart racing out of your chest. 

“that hurt,” you mumbled.

“it was supposed to.” his voice was far softer than you’ve ever heard it before as if you stole the breath right from his chest. goosebumps immediately covered your arms and you hoped to the gods that he didn’t notice. 

you were at a loss for words as he held his position. “now how will you get out of this, pet?” he provoked. 

devoid of logic, you bucked your hips up against him, trying to wrangle your way free. ghost essentially growled above you, sending fluttering vibrations through your chest. you tried to roll out from under him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he let you. your positions quickly changed as you used all your muscles to turn him on his back. you straddled him, heaving again at the amount of force you had to exert to move his body.

your hands were resting on his chest and you felt your entire body go hot. there was no way you were straddling ghost, sitting right above his belt, your hands pressed flat against him, and his hands… his hands loose on your hips, edging towards your thighs. 

in pure embarrassment you quickly stumbled off of him, not even offering to give him a hand to stand back up. 

you thought for sure he would call it a day, probably irritated at you getting so close. those were definitely not proper techniques you executed back there. 

to your surprise, ghost grunted, stood, and mumbled, “again.”

you couldn’t help the displeased groan that left your lips. “ghost, please. i’ve been doing this all morning.”

he didn’t like the way his chest tightened momentarily at the sound of you begging him. 

he could see the exhaustion on your face. in a sort of compromise, he wanted one more spar. he slid the knife from his holster on his thigh and caught it expertly in his fingers. “unarm me,” he demanded. 

you looked at him with hesitation. “if ya unarm me, y’can be done for the day. i won't even fight back.”

something painful echoed in your chest. you just wanted to get away from him. why was he dragging out your time together? he didn’t even like you. he should just tell price they couldn’t risk taking you along on the mission. 

you mentally groaned and slowly stepped closer. ghost readied his stance. 

you darted to the left and he deftly blocked you. 

then you ducked down, coming up on the side he held the weapon and his arm stopped yours. you grunted before slipping around him and shoving him back. he stumbled a few steps and you dodged his arms. 

ghost spun to meet you, grabbing your wrist with his free hand, both of you stumbling so your back collided with the wall. 

with heavy breaths, ghost pinned your arm beside your head. your other hand struggled, but you managed to grip his knife and fling it out of his hand, sending it rattling on the hard floor away from you two. 

ghost’s hips were almost against yours, his body trapping you against the wall. your head clouded with so many unwanted thoughts about his chest pressed against your own. the way his body traced yours like a phantom.

“next time, try to hold on to the weapon you disarm. because now, you’re defenseless. and hate to break it to ya, but you against any man of my size, unarmed… you’re dead.”

your mouth hung open slightly as you caught your breath. you could feel ghost’s ungloved hands lingering by your waist. you nodded, unable to speak as you felt his fingers fluttering against your skin where your shirt began to ride up. it was almost like he was purposefully trying to touch you. 

your eyes flickered down to where his hands were and ghost immediately backed away. he gave you one look over and went to pick up his knife. 

“enough for today,” he grumbled, a tensing sense of aggravation filling the air. 

you straightened your clothes out, walking back onto the mat. “so that’s it?”

ghost turned in a way that made it look like he was forcing his body to move. “need me t’tell you how good of a job you did? pat you on your back and tell ya you’re gonna be fine next week?”

you glared at him. “no. i just–”

“you won’t. you’re gonna get yourself killed out there.” you sucked in a sharp breath at his words. you watched as his eyes avoided your own. “be back here tomorrow to train more with soap.”

you nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. he hesitated another moment, almost like he was debating on saying something else, but then he turned and left you alone. 

you sank down onto the mat, sprawling out backward and breathing deeply. your body was sore and throbbing from all the collisions you took today. 

fuck. you had one chance to prove to ghost you were capable. that price trusting you to come along was the right choice. but you just made a fool of yourself. and ghost thought you nothing more than a weak link in their unit. you were going to get them all killed. 

you closed your eyes, a tear sliding down your sweat-stained cheeks.

chapter 4 ➡

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Them reacting to you gifting them something for Valentine's day

characters: Seele / Bronya x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none, just fluff

a/n: Do me a Favor and pretend it’s still Valentine's Day, okay? I was busy yesterday and only got the idea to write something for it after I saw @genshingorlsrevengeance post.

Also no Natasha, bc I’m not going to lie, I couldn’t think of what to write for her…

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Seele

The most difficult part about handing Seele her gift was finding her in the first place. With how many tasks and missions she had to run through, getting a hold of her turned out to be more difficult than you had envisioned, as whenever you arrived at her last known location, she had already booked it to somewhere else.

When you finally caught up to Seele however, you could hear her from what felt like a mile away, arguing with a couple of stubborn vagrants only for it to escalate into a full on clash as you got nearer. Once you got to see her however, the two other combatants were laying on the ground already, one of them groaning in pain as the other seemed to have been knocked out for a while.

“Get lost while you can- Oh it’s you”, Seele spat as she turned around in a moment's notice, her scythe drawn and pointed at the perceived enemy, only for her to quickly lower it once she realized who stood before her.

“Ah, my bad. You caught me off-guard… Did something happen for you to be looking for me?”, she asked as a hint of worry made its way onto her face, only for her eyes to widen in surprise when she noticed the small pouch in your hand.

“N-no”, you stammered out, still somewhat in shock from having her weapon pointed at your face before coughing in hopes it would lessen the chances of your voice cracking again and continuing. 

“Anyway, happy Valentine's Day”, you handed her the chocolate, Seele’s hand automatically reaching out to accept it as her cheeks grew slightly red, balling her other hand into a fist and putting it in front of her mouth to nervously cough into it while at the same time trying to cover the lower half of her face.

“I, umm… I didn’t think you’d- I’m sorry, I’m not very good at this”, she managed to say out loud, looking away slightly for a few seconds before putting down her hand and looking you in the eyes once again. “Thanks.”

“...Ahem. Where were we?”, Seele eventually proclaimed as she turned around to the two vagrants once again, only to start looking around hurriedly when they were nowhere to be found.

“Quick, they have to be nearby, help me find them!”

Bronya

From the moment she opened her eyes, Bronya was reminded of what made today so special, your work assured it, after all. The first of your letters was placed on her bedside table, another one fell out when she opened her closet, and the last one she found once she pulled open the top drawer of her desk, the envelope kept shut by the wax-seal she had grown all too familiar with since getting to know you.

Each of them were filled with enough encouraging and loving words to make even a heart of stone melt, and yet you were nowhere to be seen. As the day dragged on, with Bronya re-reading your words in between each of the dozens of audiences she went through, having to hide the smile appearing on her face whenever she thought about them in the middle of listening to her people’s troubles and worries more than once, she increasingly found herself yearning to see you. And yet, you were nowhere to be seen.

When she finally finished work, the sun was already starting to set, the amount of people in the room slowly dwindling down until the only people other than her present were two silvermane-guards standing on each side of the entrance. Only for that to change as well when another voice rang through the hall.

“Would you be so kind and leave the two of us alone for a while?”

By the time Bronya looked up, the two guards were well on their way through the door, and you were coming closer and closer before eventually stopping just a few feet away from the stairs leading up to her desk, a bouquet of Flowers in your hands as you gave her the smile she had missed the entire day.

And before Bronya knew it, she was on her feet and moving towards you as well.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. The Astral Express was nice enough to allow me to go on a small day trip with them”, you apologized before presenting her your gift, the various kinds of flowers she had never seen on Belobog before explaining your motive for leaving better than any words could have done.

“Happy Valentine’s day”, you managed to speak before Bronya gave you an unexpected hug, one you quickly returned.

The two of you remained that way until there was a sudden knock on the door, causing the Supreme Guardian to return to her regular posture in the span of a nanosecond before calling on the person on the other side to enter. Not without whispering a few more words to you however.

“Thank you.”

[marvelgurl789fanfics]

Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Child OC

(Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Rogue)

~Safe~

Warning: angst, mentions of child abuse, injuries

(Not the best at grammar or punctuation)

Summary: The X-Men get information on a new mutant holding facility being built. Remy finds the building has a prisoner already a very small one at that.

Masterlist:

~~~~~

The X-Men were on the Blackbird on the way to some mutant sentinel holding facility being build in some desert, Gambit stopped paying attention to Scott’s speech on this place after getting the gist of it. Go in destroy the place, don’t get killed easy. Gambit had found a much more interesting way to spend the flight than listening to Scott go on, Rogue’s legs looked mighty fine crossed like that as she listened to the mission brief, ‘What Remy would give to touch those fine legs, what a way to go out’ Remy thought to himself with the knowledge of her skin being a death sentence within seconds.

Feeling eyes on him Gambit lifted his gazes from Rogue’s legs to her eyes glaring at him. “Will you pay attention” she scolded him, “Sorry, Cher. Gambit got lost in thought” he smiled at her. Rogue rolled her eyes with a small smile forming on her lips “I know what kind of thoughts you’re having right now Cajun” she scolded in a teasing manner, earning a grin from Remy. “If you two are done we’re about to land” Wolverine groan, amusement in his eyes despite his tone of voice.

They landed a bit of a walk from the location with there being no cover in the sand left little choice. “Once inside me and Jean will head to the security room. Storm keep your eyes on the sky and watch for possible reinforcements. Wolverine, Morph take to the east wing and search for any prisoners in the holding cells. Gambit, Rogue go west and search the labs and destroy any files they have of mutants.” Scott said as they approached the base. The X-Men rushed the base and knocking out what few guards there and split into their groups.

Breaking into the base’s lab Rouge and Gambit took out the guards, most of the scientists chose to flee than fight back. The lab was soon empty besides the knocked out guards on the floor. Rogue went to the computer and began destroying files, while Gambit started with the paper files charging them and destroying the paper with small explosions. “Cells are all clear” Wolverine came from their communications link, “Well except the guards, who are not liking their new home” Morph snickered. “Good, Storm how are things looking?” Jean asked. “The sky remains clear” Storm informed. “We’re done here too, Gambit, Rogue how are things going there?” Scott asked. “All good sugar, we just finished with the files” Rogue answered walking over to Gambit who just finished with the paper files. “Then let’s get out of here, regroup at the Blackbird” Scott ordered.

“Shall we Swamp Rat?” Rogue teased heading for the exit, Gambit was going to say something sassy back but heard a whimpering and stopped in his tracks. “What is it?” Rogue stopped as well noticing Gambit’s smile drop from his pretty face. “Don’t know Cher, but Gambit heard a noise” Gambit said moving to where he heard the sound. After a few steps around the lab equipment there was what looked like a dog create with a little girl who looked no older than three shaking in fear curled up cowering in the back of the cage. Gambit felt like the world froze thinking of what kind of monster would do this to a child, a sharp gasp from Rogue shook him from his shock.

Gambit dropped to his knee’s immediately breaking the weak lock opening the cage door. The small girls eye widened with fear once the door opened. “It’s ok mon Cheri, Gambit won’t hurt you none” Gambit said as gently as he could taking in the girl appearance for the first time. The small child had light green scale starting at her cheeks down to the sides of her neck mixing with her pale skin, her scales seemed to go down the tops on her arms and hands. Messy dark blonde hair with scales at her hairline, pure golden eye with slit irises reminding him of a cat’s eyes. The girl was wearing torn and dirtied clothes. She looked at him with a mix of fear and curiosity, slowly starting to uncurl herself. The child kept her eye focused on Gambit’s every move ready to retreat if he made any sudden movements. “Gambit just want to help you” he said very slowly reaching his hand out for the girl to take it.

After a moments of hesitation from the child, she took his hand and he gently led her from the cage. Once the girl was out of the cage and in the light of the room Rogue and Gambit noticed the bruises coving the girls body and her favoring her left leg. “Oh sugar!” Rogue said with heartbreak clear in her voice but choosing to keep still not wanting to frighten the already terrified child. “Gambit get you outta here” Gambit said slowing getting to his feet and picking up the child holding her to his chest. The girl flinched at first of being lifted off the ground but quickly relaxed tucked to his chest. “Let’s get to the ship, she as cold as ice” gambit said heading for the exit wrapping the side of his coat around the girls small body, Rogue quickly followed after him.

Once they reached the Blackbird it seemed the rest of the team was waiting for them. “What took you slow pokes so, oh who this” Morph teased then noticing the child in Gambit’s arms, getting the whole team looking at the small child. “Gambit found her locked in a cage right before we left” Rogue explained. Jean walked over to Gambit and the child gently putting her hand on the girls back, making the child flinch and bury her face into Gambit’s chest shaking trying to cling to him for dear life. “It’s ok mon Cheri, no one gonna hurt ya now” Gambit soothed.

The whole flight back the girl refused to let go of Gambit. Quiet discussions between the team about the mission and the child went unnoticed by Gambit, trying to soothe the scared child who found comfort in him for reasons he would never understand. Five minutes from the school the girl was fast asleep still cuddled up to him, “The child seems to like you” Storm commented. Gambit looked up from the sleeping girl on his lap “Who doesn’t like Gambit” he joked trying to deny the comment. ‘Of course she likes me for now Remy found her’ he thought to himself. “I usually don’t like sharing but I can make an acceptation for this little girl” Rogue teased coming behind Gambit’s chair racking her gloved hand through his hair. “Don’t know Cher, she might not want to share Gambit with you” Gambit teased back enjoying his hair being played with.

The Blackbird landed in the hanger, the team filling out “Take our little guest to get check out by Beast, we’ll talk to the professor” Scott said to Gambit. The girl still had a death grip on Remy’s jacket even in deep sleep and nobody had the heart to separate the girl from her object of comfort even in this case the object being Remy himself. “If she’ll let go of Gambit long enough to let Beast” Gambit joked walking to the med bay with the sleeping child in his arms. A few steps from the med bay the girl jolted awake panic clear on face. “Mon Cheri, Gambit right here, you’re safe” stopping in his tracks for a moment to clam the child, the girl relaxed into his chest once again while he walked to the med bay.

“Gambit nice to see you in one piece, who this little one.” Beast greeted as the med bay door shut behind them. “Gambit found her while on our mission, she’s pretty beat up” Gambit said unconsciously rubbing the girls back in comforting circles, “I see, let me take a look” Beast nodded in understanding and gestured to the medical cot. Gambit gently sat the girl on the cot but her death grip on his coat remained “it’s ok Gambit promise not to go no where” Gambit gently convinced the child to let go and as promised stood to the side but still in view of her. “Hello I’m Dr.McCoy, what might your name be?” Beast greeted the child kindly being careful not to spook the child who kept looking at Gambit for reassurance.

“F-63” came a small shy voice after a moment of silence. “Is that what those people called you before Gambit found you” Gambit spoke up earning a slow nod from the girl. “I see, do you know how old you are?” Beast asked her, the girl just held up three fingers. “Ok, little one I’m just gonna take a look at your injuries. Is that ok?” Beast asking the girl, and after the girl received a nod of approval from Gambit she gave Beast a nod of her own. Beast looked over the girl carefully explaining to the child exactly what he was doing to not startle her. “Noticed her favoring her left leg” Gambit said getting Beast attention. Beast took a look at the girls right leg then gave the girl a smile “That wasn’t so bad” Beast said earning a nod again from the girl then coaxing the girl to lay back on the cot and relax.

“How she looking?” Gambit asked quietly for the girl not the hear, “where to start, on closer inspection the bruises appear to be from needles being them injections or IVs it’s hard to tell. Her leg is not broken but is severely sprained, and then the girl seems to be very undernourished and dehydrated.” Beast informed keeping his voice down as well. Hearing this felt like a kick to Gambit’s gut, “usually I would set up an IV to help with the dehydration, but giving the situation I think it would do more harm than good” Beast continued. A knock on the med bay door got their attention, the door slipping open as the professor and Rogue entering the latter holding a tray. “Hello Gambit, Beast can I talk to you for a moment of the girls well being” Xavier said going back in the hall with Beast now following in toe.

Gambit walk back the child who kept looking at him with pleading eyes “Everything gonna be just fine mon Cheri” her promised gently brushing some of her messy hair from her face. “Hello again sugar I thought you might be hungry” Rogue said setting the tray within the girls reach. The girl looked at the tray containing a pb&j sandwich cut into four small pieces of and a glass of milk, looking at Gambit and getting a nod from him, the girl started to slowly eat the sandwich. “If you’re still hungry after this there’s plenty more” Rogue smiled at the girl. “Did you learn her name?” Rogue asked turning her attention to Remy. “F-63, but that’s no name” Gambit said a bit bitterly but kept his voice down for just for Rogue to hear. Rogue hummed in thought turning to the girl “sugar do you like the name F-63.” She asked the girl who was now chugging the milk, the girl paused her drinking and shook her head no at Rogue’s question.

Remy let out a light chuckle at the child who now had milk dripping from her face, “did you get any in your mouth.” He grabbed a tissue from the side table and gently whipped the girl mouth earning a giggle from the girl. Rogue’s heart swelled that their interaction “What about Fiona?” Rogue asked the girl who stopped giggling. “Fiona does have a nice ring to it no?” Gambit said. The girl pointed to herself “Fiona?” She asked looking to the two adults watching her. “If you want that name” Rogue smiled to the child earning a nod and a slightly more confident Fiona from the girl. “A very beautiful name Mon Cheri” Gambit said to Fiona with a smile.

The Professor and Beast entered the med bay once again, Xavier now making his way to the child and Gambit and Rogue stepping aside. “Hello F-63, I’m Charles Xavier” he greeted the girl with a smile, “Fiona” Fiona responded immediately earning a raised eyebrow from Beast and Xavier. “Rogue and Gambit may have helped her with a new name” Gambit said rubbing the back of this neck. “Well Fiona is a much lovelier name” Xavier said with amusement turning to Fiona once again. “Do you know where your parents might be.” Xavier asked gently probing the girls mind. The girl gave a confused look tilting her head to the side pointing to Gambit “Papa?” Fiona said making Gambit slightly choke on air, and Rogue trying to keep from laughing. “The other did say she took quite the liking to you” Xavier chuckled as well.

“All of her memories are of the lab, my guess would be her parents gave her up when she was born cause of her appearance. For now she’ll be staying here at the school, and Gambit I hate to put you in this position but it seems she find comfort in you. Can I trust her to your care for now?” Xavier said to the group telepathically. “Gambit will play the caretaker for Mon Cheri” Gambit agreed aloud, with a nod and a smile to Fiona Xavier left. “For the time being I think it would be best for her to stay in the med bay, so I can keep an eye on her injuries. I’ll find more suitable clothes for her” Beast said leaving the med bay as well.

Fiona started to blink tiredly struggling to stay awake, Remy moved the now empty tray to the side and covered the girl up more with the blanket on the cot. As the girl’s eyes closed Gambit felt arms wrapping around him from behind “I think this will be a good thing, I think you make a good daddy” Rogue teased whispering in his ear, making a blush cover his face and spread to his ears.

~~~~~

I plan to make a part 2

Part 2

[dazed-and-confused23]

Act Naturally 3

Summary: It's been a couple of days since Lucy and Cooper married, and the vault doctor is confused when he finds out that they've not consummated it yet.

Pairings: Pre-War Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Warnings. None really? Smut with be on the next/final part.

Masterlist

It's been a couple of days since their marriage, and Cooper finds life in the vault... dull, to say the least. There isn't much way of entertainment, and his new job as Althetic Coach was pretty useless, leaving the ex-actor bored most days. Not that Lucy is boring, but the young woman had more duties in the vault than he did, leaving Cooper alone much of the day.

No, Lucy was an amazing, intelligent young woman who Cooper was getting to know little by little. She was raised to be a go-getter, with a can-do attitude, but he could see that there was more to just that. Lucy was kind and thoughtful in a way that few people truly were. Cooper didn't love her, but he could see himself falling for the young vault dweller.

A week passes by, and he's back in their shared home, mindlessly watching a rerun of some old-world cartoon when there is a knock on the door. He pushes himself up and answers the sliding door to find a middle-aged man on the other side with a white lab coat over his vault suit.

"Hello, Mr. Howard. I don't think we've had the pleasure of meeting yet. I'm Dr. Gallows," He introduces himself and shakes Cooper's hand when offered.

"Cooper, good to meet you," the ex-actor, "What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

The doctor clears his throat and shoots Cooper a small grin, "Well, usually a new bride has already come to see me after the consummation of the marriage, but Lucy has yet to stop by, so I wanted to do a house call to make sure everything was good to go."

Cooper blinks at the doctor, and the casual way he brings up his sex life. Lucy hadn't made a move to try and sleep with him, and Coop had been fine with allowing her to set the pace. What did it matter if they hadn't fucked yet?

"Okay... and?"

The doctor lets out an awkward chuckle, "Well. Part of the Vault mission is to rebuild human society, but we can't do that if we don't have kids, right Mr. Howard? So I'd like for Lucy to come see me in the next couple of days, that should give the two of you please of time."

Cooper wants to protest, to immediately shut this innane bull crap down, but he stops himself. The vaults were a tight nit group, and he doubted that just he would be in trouble if he decided to deck their doctor in the face. Lucy would be part of this, too.

So, instead, the man sighs and grands the doctor a look little more friendly than a glare, "I'll see what I can do, Doc."

"Ah, splendid then! I'll see you in a couple of days!"

Cooper sneers as the other man be-pops away like nothing had happened and shuts the door quickly. He would have to talk to Lucy about this when she got home.

It's near the evening by the time his wife gets home, and Cooper welcomes Lucy with a smile and open arms, which she gratefully falls into. He holds her close and presses a quick kiss to the top of her head, "Long day, baby?"

Lucy sighs dramatically and leans back so that she can look at him, "You have no idea. Dad had me sit in on all his meetings, and then I had class to teach. No one even paid attention."

Cooper chuckles a bit and leads Lucy over to the couch, where she sits down beside him. He keeps her close, one arm curled around her back as she tells him about her day, which sounds far more interesting than anything he did today.

They are having a light dinner when Cooper brings up his visitor from earlier in the day, "Dr. Gallows came by today."

He pauses when Lucy’s face erupts in , and the fork she holds falls to the plate. He cocks a brow at her and sits back, sitting his own utensils down to give his wife his full attention. Cooper sees her swallow harshly and avoid his gaze.

"What - uhm. What did he want?"

Cooper licks his lips, fingers itching for a cigarette to occupy his hands with, and says as easy as pie, "Wondering why we haven't "consummated our marriage" yet."

Lucy's shoulders draw up to around her ears, and she slaps her hands over her face, "I'm so sorry. He wasn't being pushy, was he?"

Cooper huffed and stood from his seat, "Well, he made it quite clear that he wasn't too thrilled that we've kept him waiting. I'm not a fan of these vault rules, Darlin', so we'll make him wait as long as you want him to."

He gathers the dishes and sets them in the sink for later, and then turns back around to see his wife still slumped over the table. He frowns and mosies over, one hand dropping to her shoulder and squeezing lightly, "We'll follow your lead."

Lucy reaches up a hand and curls it around his own, her fingers squeezing hard before she lifts her head and peeks up at him through her dark bangs. Cooper thinks she looks beautiful like this.

"I want to," she begins and elaborates when he lifts a brow, her voice wavering with nerves, "to have sex with you. I was just too scared to ask."

The ex-actor scoffs and stands behind her, his other hand coming up to land on her shoulder and massage the tense muscles there. She sags under him, and Cooper bends down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. He didn't want her to feel scared or nervous around him, not when he was her husband.

"You can talk to me about anything, Sweetheart," Cooper assures his wife quietly, "I'm always in your corner, no matter what, okay?"

Lucy nods, and when she looks at him again, he catches the way her pupils blow wide and watches her red tongue sneak out to wet her lips. Arousal pools in his stomach, and his hands tighten around her shoulders.

"Can we have sex, now?"

Cooper swallows harshly and searches her gaze for any time that says Lucy might not want any of this but only sees growing excitement. He smiles at her, a slow smirk that speaks for how much he absolutely wants to have sex. He lets her go and rounds the chair, then angles her chin up to look at him with his knuckle.

"Go get ready for me then, baby."

[nomoreusername]

Pretend

Pairing:Newt x female reader

Summary:To help savor the rest of his time here, Newt keeps pretending to be fine.

I was breaking. Slowly, steadily, gradually, I was falling apart. I was going to be something evil, something not even recognizable as once human.

Maybe I should say something. Maybe I should tell somebody. Maybe I should speak up and request a side mission for another cure like the one Brenda got.

If we focus on me though, all of the attention won't be on Minho. That would make saving him harder than it has to be because of me. I can't do that to him. I won't do that to my best friend.

It’s wrong how now that I actually want to live I’m going to die. It’s every level of messed up that there is. I overcame so much. I felt okay waking up in the morning. I made friends who mean the world. I got an amazing girlfriend that I had an entire future planned with.

Not anymore I guess. Just as my life begins, it will end. Just like that, it's lights out for me.

Sighing, I sat on the roof, ignoring the chill from the morning air. In my short sleeves, I looked at the growing bite, wondering how it could all come to this.

Deep down, I know Y/N will come looking for me soon. She’s not a very good sleeper so when she wakes up and realizes I’m not there, she’ll try to find me. She probably will too. I’ll probably tell another lie for the sake of keeping attention off of me.

Figuring there was too much sunlight for comfort now even though it was just my eyes adjusting, I slipped my jacket pack on and went to leave. Plus, I swear that I'm going to vomit if I kept looking at it. I’m both repulsed by it and amazed that I’ve kept this under wraps for so long. Surely, that's some kind of record. Longest hidden Crank transformation. That's worthy of a trophy.

Too bad the reward is Minho living a nice life and me dying.

While I’m nothing but relieved that he’ll end up okay, I’m admittedly bitter about the cards I’ve been dealt. It's like the game was rigged from the start and definitely not in my favor.

I’m a lot more tired than I’ve ever been now, and I know that getting up hours before everyone else isn't helping. I’m sure it will take a toll on my face too. I’m probably going to die with dark bags under my eyes.

I’ve got to play it cool until then. I’ve got to go under the radar, get Minho, and make sure everyone I care about and love gets out of the city and to the Safe Haven. Plain and simple.

Putting my hand on the door, I went to open it only for it to fly open, nearly hitting me in the face. Letting go, I quickly backed away a safe distance. Standing straight up, I found myself completely calm. I guess after getting jumped by a bunch of Cranks the things that used to startle you just seem less significant.

My girl was standing there, a sheepish expression on her face as she apologized for not knocking. Playing with her hands, she met my eyes as waited for me to respond.

“It's okay. You didn't know I was here,”I assured her, giving her a genuine, hopefully regular smile. Letting out a relieved sigh, she then asked what I was doing up here anyways.

As I looked at her, at her sweet face, at her warm eyes, at her soft lips, at her gentle and full of kindness personality, I was overcome with the urge to blurt it all out. I just wanted to drop to my knees and cry. I just wanted her to promise that she wouldn't even tell anybody but instead hold me tight and never let me go.

“Just thinking,”I shrugged.

I would not be doing any of those things. Not today, not tomorrow, and not for as long as I can help it. While I’m still in control, I’m going to savor every bit of it.

I'm also going to treasure every second I have left with her. Not the stressed out ones spent arguing and planning. Nice and peaceful moments that would give her just a few more good memories before I left.

“Do you want to sit out here for a little bit and watch the sunrise with me?”I offered.

“Of course. You know that's basically my favorite date with you,”She accepted, a wide grin on her face as she stepped out and shut the door behind her. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder, I placed a kiss on her temple as I walked her over to the edge to just sit and talk.

“Yeah. Mine too,”I agreed. Resting her head on my shoulder, she held my hand that was around her as her other was on my knee. Placing my free hand over that one, I traced circles on her knuckles with my thumb as I took a deep breath, taking in her scent of honey. A scent just as soft and comforting as her.

“I know you tell me I say it enough, but just in case I haven't lately, I love you,”She told me, the happiness clear as day in her tone.

“I love you too. Remember that no matter what I’ll never stop loving you? Remember that I only ever want you to be happy? Okay?”I whispered, holding back a lump in my throat.

“I know that, and moments like these are enough to keep me going. They're that consistent, good thing that I just know we’ll have forever. You know what I mean?”

Closing my eyes to stop the tears, I squeezed her hand as I tried to pretend her words were true.

“Yeah. I do.”