#Folding Machine Spare Parts

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE ] 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 ! ( tenth installment ) in which you are forced to plan a corporate event with your office enemy .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; kento nanami

୨୧˚ cw; profanity , smuttish , pure unadulterated fluff

୨୧˚ an; thank you all for the patience 😭😭 so sorry i’ve been busy getting back into uni shit but omg!!! slowburn is peaking!!! also the tag list is officially closed because i have reached the max # of tags!!!

୨୧˚ join my discord server ! we share headcanons, fanfic recs, color roles, and more drooling emoji

Nanami’s morning routine doesn’t deviate from the norm. An alarm clock was built into his genetic code, and he rouses at half past six in the morning. Unfurling his long limbs from the confines of the couch—the suede thing was big, but Nanami was bigger. Joints popped under sheets of muscle and flesh when he gave a hearty stretch, and with that, he was ready to start his Sunday.

Fueled purely on motor memory, he filters through each step of the habitual customs he’s grown to associate with mornings. You’re still sleeping soundly in his bed, and the risk of waking you condemns Nanami to his downstairs bathroom rather than the personal en suite tailing off his bedroom. It doesn’t pose much of an inconvenience; Nanami was nothing if not prepared. The slender closet in his downstairs bathroom housed spare toiletries—handkerchiefs, tooth brushes, soaps and oils.

He brushes his teeth first, watching his reflection with tired eyes. Minty foam froths at the corners of his lips. Nanami collects the mess with his tongue before spitting into the porcelain bowl of the sink. He’s thorough, scrubbing every corner of his mouth, followed by a pass through with charcoal infused floss. Next, the man is dabbing a button of facial cleanser onto a small square of towel, wetting it under the faucet. Scouring his cheeks, then forehead, then nose. His hair is mussed from tossing in his sleep, and if not for the guest upstairs, Nanami would probably leave it as is. But you’re his guest, and for some reason that means something to him, so he slicks back the blonde frizz with wet hands. 

Another staple of Nanami’s morning routine: a good cup of coffee. The machine was expensive—Nanami tends to splurge when it comes to matters that mean most to him. He doesn’t mind spending a little extra on his suit wear, his beloved watches, and certainly not his coffee. Crafted from titanium and stainless steel, it sat heavily on the black marble countertop and whirred quietly as it compressed beans into the filter. 

Ingredients line the island at the center of his extravagant kitchen. Weekends were the only days in which Nanami had enough time to cook breakfast for himself, rather than grabbing a bagel or danish from the convenience store on his way to the office. It was a shame, really, because he enjoyed the gratification of cooking his own meals. And not to toot his own horn, but he was rather proud of his skills. 

He never cooks for two, though. 

Nanami peruses the ingredient assembly line, looking from the organic eggs, to the all purpose flour, to the carton of mixed berries. It would be rude of him not to consider your palate. Did you prefer a savory breakfast? Or perhaps you’d rather have something on the sweeter side like pancakes? He nibbled his lower lip in thought. 

A divine aroma saturates the entirety of downstairs. Nanami focuses on folding a second omellette, tucking the concoction of whipped egg, chopped bell peppers, caramelized onions, diced tomatoes, and grated sharp cheddar on itself with the delicacy of a surgeon. He’s knee deep in concentration, back turned towards his staircase so your presence goes entirely unnoticed. 

Hands clap together somewhere over his shoulder. He jerks with a startled gasp, the fork in his hand clattering to vinyl tiles. Nanami presses a palm to his racing chest, twisting to find your hands just inches away from his ear. What a little shit, you are. He doesn’t waste effort trying to stifle his grimace. “Was that necessary?”

You’re crouched down, retrieving the silverware off the floor. “Now we’re even.” 

“Even?”

“Yeah,” you hand him the fork, to which he blinks at the useless thing. It’s been dirtied by the floor, so Nanami instructs you to toss it in the sink and grab another from the utensil drawer at the end of his pointed finger. As you play fetch, you explain. “Do you know how scared shitless I was waking up in a strange bedroom? In strange clothes?” He’s watching you toy aimlessly with the abundance of extra material bunched up around the trussed waistband of your—his—sweatpants. Nanami’s clothes cloak you more than enough; cotton t-shirt hanging just below mid-thigh, and those damned oversized sweats rolled up in stupidly big cuffs at the ankles stopping over your socked feet. You must’ve adjusted them accordingly when you stepped out of bed. Something akin to apprehension pulled at your face. “We didn’t…”

Blonde brows scrunch as he attempts to decipher your blathering. When you beckon a hand between your chest and his, Nanami abruptly chokes on his saliva. “Are you out of your mind?” He’s quick to sputter, spinning back to face the sizzling pans and contain the tickle in his throat. A white bowl and whisk are gathered into strong arms—homemade blueberry pancake batter sloshes against the wiry bristles of Nanami’s whisk. He pours three more precise circles of batter onto the second frying pan, and the sweet paste fizzles against nonstick cookware. “You were intoxicated, Y/n. Couldn’t even remember your own address.” He paused. “A change of clothes seemed ideal in the moment. Something cozier.”

You hum in acknowledgement. Footsteps pad closer, and you appear beside him, resting your back against the counter. Your head lolls, cheek falling against your shoulder. He can feel your eyes gouging into the side of his face while he flips the pancake triplets. “You changed me?”

There’s a foreign tonality bleeding into your words, something almost playful, and he’s vexed. Are you teasing him? A trimmed thumb nail burrows into the silicone grip of a spatula. Or is that genuine curiosity? “I did,” Nanami gives you honesty, licking his lip as he does so. On it, he tastes a vague note of spearmint. “You needed some help.”

“God,” you touch a hand to your forehead and laugh, “that does sound like me.” There is no perturbation or embarrassment there, only relief, and he thanks God for your uncanny ability to bypass awkwardness in situations such as these. Had the roles been reversed and it was Nanami receiving word that a coworker of the opposite sex had dressed him in a period of inebriation, well, he’d probably send in a letter of resignation to the company the next day. “Sorry for being so difficult for you.”

He wags his head, dismissing the remorse. “Please, your apologies are far from necessary.”

“Oh I think they’re completely neces—”

“Aht.” A spatula stabs through the air stopping a few inches shy of your nose. There’s a sharpness that eclipses sepia eyes behind the crystalline shield of Nanami’s wire-framed glasses; a barbed glance that telepathically urges you to drop the argument before it begins. With that same spatula, he dives below fluffy circles of speckled cake and transports them from pan to plates, divvying up the pancakes into two even portions. “You took the medication I left for you, yes? They were beside the glass of water on the side table.”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m feelin’ better already.”

“Good,” he nods with a subtle, tight-lipped grin. “That’s good. Though you should probably get some food down. Fill your stomach with something other than tylenol.” Nanami stops his ministrations, satisfied with the presentation of both plates of breakfast, and pitches you a simple question. “Coffee?”

You practically moan, “coffee sounds really fucking amazing right now.”

Coffee it is then. Nanami proposes that you go settle yourself in a seat, and that he’d handle the rest. Forfeiting another argument, you buckle and slip into a high stool at the breakfast bar that is associated along the island in the midst of the kitchen. Two twin mugs are poached from the highest shelf, crafted of gray ceramic with uneven, white polka dots. He owned a whole dining set donning those same frivolous dots; Nanami always had an absurd fascination with peculiar patterns, they were charming to the man. Perhaps his collection of ugly things were meaningful because of how violently they contrasted to his otherwise ordinary life. In both mugs, scalding coffee brimmed and emanated laces of smoke slithering up to the ceiling. Nanami didn’t bother asking you how you took your coffee—he just knew. Knew from stealing glances at you over the past year, watching you concoct a disastrous potion of lukewarm coffee poured from the communal pot that you so desperately despised, skim milk from the carton in the office floor’s minifridge, and a concerning amount of sugar packets that made him feel inclined to alert your doctor. Nanami does his best to match the ratio of coffee to milk to sugar, gives it a stir, and hopes it’s up to your eccentric taste buds. 

He sets your plate and mug down, sliding it across the counter’s surface to sit before you. Nanami chooses to stand where he is, leaning against the opposite end of the island. His foot, clad in a thick, black sock, taps quietly against the floor. “I wasn’t aware of your preferences so—”

“So you made…” You go quiet, prodding at the unusual combination of food on your plate: a vegetable-ridden omelette on one side and a few blueberry-encrusted flapjacks glazed in a modest squirt of maple syrup on the other. You hate it, he thinks shortly, but then a smile splits on your lips and Nanami fears he may have jumped the gun. “Eggs and pancakes?”

“You do like eggs and pancakes, don’t you?”

“Yes sir,” you respond, enthused. “It’s perfect.”

Nanami cringes. “I’d like it if you didn’t call me that outside of the workplace.”

“What? Sir?”

He hums. “Formalities remind me of work; I don’t like to think about work when I’m eating my breakfast.” He punctuates the request with a sip from his mug. Black, unsweetened coffee scathes his tongue with powerful calidity, but he’s well acquainted with its heat by now, and doesn’t wince.

“I’ll just stick to Nanami, then.”

“Actually, I—” Was it even worth mentioning? That he’d handed you the rights to use his first name last night? The tiny, bothersome devil on Nanami’s shoulder was whispering yes. “Kento will do.”

True, unadulterated glee beamed from your person, wafting a certain warmth across the counter to smack him in the face. “Holy shit, yeah that’s right! I remember now!” Using your fork as an arrow to point at the man, “last night, you told me that. You said I can call you Kennnn-Tooooo—”

“Okay, alright.” He’s jaded by your antics, swatting his hand in the air lazily. It’s too early in the morning to get serenaded by his own name. “Say it normally, or don’t say it at all.”

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just so crazy to think that we’re on a first name basis now, y’know?” You ask before shoveling a forkful of pancake into your mouth, sighing blissfully at the taste. Gratefulness oozed into your gestures, materializing in the way you simpered up at him following each and every bite. Smiles so broad that Nanami wondered if they were out of politeness or if you really just enjoyed his cooking that much.

He can cheers to your observation. “If you would’ve told me five months ago that you’d be sitting across from me in my home—sharing breakfast with me, no less—I would have…” Laughed in your face? Had a conniption? A combination of the two? Nanami trails off into thought, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I’d have done.”

So hellbent on sticking to his judgment, Nanami rarely changed his mind about people post first impressions. First impressions were something he valued, both in himself and in others. A snap perception is made based upon the first bits of information he collects from a person, and it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say that your initial communication was less than stellar. Since then, Nanami’s one-track mind had pinned associations onto you like a bulletin board, assigning your name with attributes like sleazy and trashy and (God, he felt the worst about this one) slutty. This entire time, it was Nanami’s stubbornness and penchant to be right that shielded him from the realization that you were none of those cancerous aspersions. 

You are you.

You are a diligent worker. You are never on time. Your favorite color is (f/c). You are easy to talk to, easy to approach. You like pistachio cheesecake and criminally sweet coffee. You are insecure about your presentation skills, though Nanami can’t understand why. You are determined. You are rarely shy about asking for something you need, a quality he appreciates in someone. You make him laugh. You can’t hold your liquor. With the way you’re drooling over your plate like a hungry puppy, it’s apparent that you like his cooking. And he likes you. 

He… what?

“Yeah, well,” you tilt your head, and the melodic chuckle that follows is enough to yank Nanami from his dazedness. Lifting your mug, you push it towards him in a sort of gesture. “Good thing the past doesn’t matter, huh? We were both lame in the past, but look at us now.” You retract the mug to your lips, taking a swig. “Future us is awesome. Are awesome? Is?”

You mumble to yourself, befuddled by grammar. Meanwhile, Nanami brews in thought. Your undying fearlessness of what’s to come in life always rendered him bewildered. 

“I’m jealous,” he admits, idly tracing the rim of his cup with his thumb. 

You perk up. “Of?”

“Your ability to embrace the future. It’s brave.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you sweatdrop, itching your cheek. “I wouldn’t call it bravery. Maybe security? I’m—yeah, I’m secure with the route I’ve taken in life.”

“You’re secure with white collar work?”

“I can’t see myself in any other profession,” you smile, flicking him a brow. “What about you?”

Honesty permitted, Nanami would describe his job as the bane of his misery. There used to be a point in his life in which he was sure that this was his ultimate goal: a senior executive position with an esteemed, high-profile company. Younger Nanami was content to endure years of early mornings and late nights with busy schedules jammed in between because it’d all be worth it when he finally tastes that sweet senior title. Except, now he’s tasted it. He’s licked it dry, and despite that, that feeling of fulfillment Nanami had been vying for his whole career remains frustratingly dormant. The notion that this will be his routine until retirement kills him.

He chews thoughtfully on a sliver of pancake before responding. “We touched on this a little over text.”

“You want to travel.”

You remembered. He hums. “I do.”

“And you want a family.”

“I do,” Nanami sighs longingly. 

You don’t make an effort to stifle a chuckle at his supposed foolishness. Shaking your head and cutting your eggs with the blunt side of a fork; “You talk about these things as if it’s all some sort of cushiony pipe dream. It’s really fucking hilarious all things considered.”

“All things considered?” Perplexed, Nanami pries for an expansion. 

And with all the seriousness in the world, you begin to count on your digits. “You are probably the most charming, most intelligent, most wealthy—”

“Y/n,” Nanami yawps at your conviction. When you jest, you do it in such an obvious way. He’s come to familiarize himself with the clever quirk of your mouth’s corner, or that playfully irritating glint in your smile-squinted eyes. But now, Nanami can’t find any evidence of joking in your stoney expression. You’re sincere when you say these things about him. It makes his heart pound so viciously that it vibrates his ear drums. 

“Most hard-working man I’ve ever met.” Unfazed by his apparent flusteredness, you finish with a nonchalant shrug. “Just funny, is all, that you of all people are stressing over these things when you have the ingredients to make your ambitions a reality.”

“Your compliments are… thanked…” The blonde ducks his head in an awkward, halfhearted bow, “but I can’t ever hope to truly begin my life when I don’t have the time granted to do so.” Nanami touches an index and middle finger to his temple, rubbing in soothing circles. It doesn’t do much to quell the oncoming migraine that this nightmarish topic never fails to cast upon him. “I’ve tried. Believe me when I say that I have worked my ass off trying to balance my job alongside nurturing a relationship. But I’ve come to realize how unfair of me that is—to ask a woman to bear with my neglect because I got held up at the office for the fifth night in a row. A relationship isn’t much of a relationship at all if both people still feel lonely.”

Unbeknownst to him, his tone had slipped away for a moment. He became bitter, recalling the lineup of failures that made up his dating history. Bitter and lonely. It’s been almost two years now that Nanami has abandoned the dating scene, if not for his sake than for the sake of his next girlfriend. Though, he can’t help but have moments of tenderness in which he thinks that maybe all of his occupational achievements would have been more gratifying if he had someone to share them with.

He clears his throat, lowering his voice back down when he apologizes for getting emotional. 

“Don’t say sorry.” You offer a reassuring grin. “I’m sorry for assuming shit about your life. That was uncool of me.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Nanami parrots, returning your grin with a sheepish one of his own, and tilts his head toward his shoulder. “I didn’t exactly mind the compliments.”

“Conceited bastard.”

He hides his simper well behind his mug. “I’d still like to know what makes you happy, if that offer is still on the table.”

“Why’s that?”

“I just would like to.” Nanami licks his lower lip, eyes grazing yours. “Do I need a more convoluted reason than that?”

Your face reads like a book. It tells him don’t be a smartass, so he yields to your unimpressed frown. “You’re not gonna like my answer. Working makes me happy.”

The revelation doesn’t shock him. “You are demonstrably proficient, Y/n. In my professional opinion, I have no doubts that you’ll be successful.” Nanami does his best to mirror your sincerity. 

“More successful than you?” You tease.

“Oh forget me, I give it five years before you’re replacing Gakuganji,” he laughs gently before pressing a finger to his lips, mimicking secrecy. “Let’s keep that between us, though.”

“The day you take orders from me is the day I can die happy.”

I wouldn’t mind that day.

“But to be honest, I think it cuts deeper than the success aspects. Ah, It’s kinda hard to put it into words…” You take a moment to string together an explanation while Nanami waits patiently. “I’m sort of a mess in my personal life. I fuck a lot of things up, I make bad judgement calls, I can get a little lazy sometimes—I just do shit wrong. Or at least, that’s what I feel like.”

Nanami hangs on every word.

“So, like, to come to work everyday and be organized and–and put on this presentation of competency,” your tongue clicks sweetly, “I need that. I need people to see me that way—I think that’s why it affected me so much when you… when you saw me…”

“At the party?” He clarifies.

You purr in agreement. “Yeah. That. I felt like, I don't know, like I shattered my whole ‘persona’ and you saw me. You really saw me.”

He can’t look away from you. The way you’re visibly shrinking, collapsing in on yourself like a wounded animal. Constricting your own torso with your arms in a self-soothing hug. Are you ashamed? 

When Nanami finally speaks, he keeps his voice calm. Soft and cottony. “Do you always have such degrading thoughts about yourself?”

“I wouldn’t call it degradation…”

“I would.” Brows furrow, and he leans further into the conversation with his elbows on the island’s surface. “You talk about yourself as if you’re two separate people.”

“Don’t you see it, too?” You ask him gravely, as though you’re hinging on Nanami’s opinion. Like his insubstantial assessment of you is the only thing that matters. “You won’t offend me, I swear.”

Unperturbed, he blinks. “Not at all.”

“Then you’re fucking blind,” you cluck. “Those glasses aren’t doing much for you.”

Nanami nips the inner seam of his cheek, unamused. Right now, he isn’t much in the mood for jokes. Not when he now understands the extent of the disdain that you have for yourself. It irks him that you can’t see how rare of a person you are. 

“My eyesight has no relevance, stop deflecting with humor.” “I’m not deflecting!”

“Yes, you are. Now please, stop and let me talk for a moment,” Nanami shows you his palm, and you find your silence. “You are not two people, Y/n, you’re just one. Just you. Sure, you have your quirks and flaws—as does everyone else—but they are what makes you you. They make you nice to be around.”

“You think I’m nice to be around?”

“We meet nearly every weekend now, have you been under the impression that I hated your presence?”

“It’s hard to tell with you sometimes. I assumed you were still hanging out with me because you felt like you owed me. Which you totally did, by the way.” You purse your lip together, stiff. “But, um, your debt has long been paid, especially with this delicious breakfast. So… y’know, if you don’t want to go out, you can just tell me.”

A breathy, humorous exhale huffs through Nanami’s nostrils. “I am a grown man. If I don’t want to do something, then I won’t do it. This,” he gestures between himself then you, “isn’t occurring out of pity or some strange form of charity. You’re here right now because I want you to be, okay?”

That little declaration pulls a coy smile from you, something Nanami introspectively overthinks. He tells himself that you’re blushing, just barely noticeable past your complexion. “Okay.” You whisper, the apples of your cheeks more pronounced than he’s ever seen them before.

Baring witness to a skittish Y/n was not on the docket for Nanami’s Sunday. He’s aware that this little discussion should stop. It was enroute to breaching something—something intimate and foreign and never to be acknowledged between you both. Unspoken chemistry that Nanami intended to let shrivel up and rot within his core because he doesn’t have the strength to snuff out the beacon of light you’ve shown in his life when he inevitably ruins yet another relationship.

But…

“I’ve had more fun in the past month than in my twenty-seven years of life. With you, I mean. So please don’t shun the side of you that exists outside of the office, because you have this spark that I haven’t seen in any of my associates in a long time. I’m… I would be upset if you let yourself turn into another copy-and-paste corporate zombie.”

There is an obvious shift in the kitchen air. It’s blossomed deep and heavy; Nanami feels like it’s become a struggle to keep himself from sinking into the floor. Your gaze is bolted to him, his to yours, in a quiet exchange of consciousness. Can you hear his thoughts? You look at him so intensely, he fears you might be able to hear how beautiful he thinks you look under the fluorescent light bulbs fixed into the ceiling.

You slip off your stool. Nanami watches your trek around the curve of the island. Onto his side.

It’s through feathery lashes that you look up at him.

“Do you find me attractive?”

The spine you have to ask such an audacious question. Visceral palpitations strike through the beating organ in his chest. His hand brushes the ledge of the countertop, then grips it for stability. “Yes.” So attractive, that he felt he could die right now. 

“Even after I vomited on your shoes?”

“I thought you didn’t remember last night?” Nanami goads.

“It’s coming back to me.”

You feign cheekiness. “Yeah,” he swallows, taking a shaky breath for himself. “Still beautiful.”

Beautiful, even with remnants of day-old eyeliner smudges below those doe eyes. Messy in the most enticing way. An urge swells within Nanami, to cradle your precious face and swipe the makeup off your flesh with his thumb. However, you moved first.

Reaching upwards, you pluck the pair of glasses off his nose. He lets you. Folded, they sit on the island.

Nanami gives a subtle shake of his head, tonguing the sharp corner of his lip. “What are you doing?” It comes out hushed, like he’s telling a secret.

“I don’t know,” you reply impishly. 

The following events can only be categorized as amorous. Ever so slowly, your hand touches. Pressing to his chest, feeling every valley and peak on its ascension to his collarbone. It peeks out from over top the collar of his raggedy, white tee shirt, and you feel him there. Offhandedly, he believes this may be the first time you’ve seen him outside of suitwear. Long, languid breaths keep him grounded, but Nanami can barely stand this torture. Though for you, he does. He lets you touch everything you want, biting his lip all the while. 

“What are you doing?” It comes again, more breathy than the last.

You don’t answer, far too enraptured by the panes of his neck. He feels you drag a fingertip down the trail of a vein. Resolve unravels, he’s slipping.

“Kento.”

If he looked into a mirror at this moment, would he even recognize himself? Nanami knows he’s a better man than this. It should take more than the pillowy drawl of his name to snap the wavering thread of self-discipline within him. 

Chest touches chest; he’s got you trapped against the kitchen island. The same island you both were sharing breakfast with five minutes ago. The same island, Nanami kisses you now.

Your face is sandwiched between two large hands. Nanami holds you to him, angling your neck back so he can grind his tongue deeper into your warm throat. There is no buildup, no preemptive apprehension that repels him from committing to bury himself in your mouth. He kisses you with no regrets, just desire and stifling yearning. 

Moans vibrate the slobbery mess. Nanami feels a bouquet of fingers latch onto his hip and pull—he rewards you, sucking sensually against the tip of your tongue. It’s fucking hot. He’s hot. And hard. Nanami’s sweating. He’s grabbing. He’s rubbing. He’s—-

Beep!

The kiss stops synchronously with twin gasps. You gawk up at him, wide-eyed at the sudden auditory intrusion. He’s looking right back down at you, panting. 

“It's the oven.”

“Oh.”

All the passion had seemingly drained, Nanami felt the altar in the atmosphere. With all the reluctance in the world, he pushes himself back to give you sizable space. Unsure of how this aftermath would play out. Awkwardly, he clears his throat, swabbing excess saliva from his chin with a palm. “I uhm—I was baking some bread.”

You nod, avoiding eye contact. “That’s cool.”

You look mortified, and that makes him feel mortified. “Y/n, I’m sorry for—”

“It’s fine.”

His heart sinks to his guts. “No, it’s not fine. Please, let me ap—”

“Kento,” you cut him off, “you didn’t do anything wrong. Like, at all, so stop apologizing. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”

Nanami’s brows pinch together, and he gapes at that. “You haven’t done a single thing wrong either.” You don’t seem to believe him, what with the way you sway from left foot to right foot, hands twiddling restlessly. Cautious, he takes a step closer. “You look anxious. I’m by no means kicking you out, but I don’t want to keep you here if it makes you uncomfortable. Just say the word and I’ll call you a ride home.”

A sigh graces your kiss-swollen lips, and you bow graciously. “Please, that would be great, thanks.”

“Yeah,” Nanami says gently, moving to fish his phone out of the pocket of his flannel pajama bottoms. “Of course.”

“I’ll go change out of your clothes—”

“Keep them on, I insist.” He’s quick to halt you. “And leave yours upstairs, I’ll run them through the washing machine. We can exchange them tomorrow.”

“I—okay, thank you.” You look so apologetic, it wounds him. “Thank you for everything. For taking me home last night, for breakfast, for–for this.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you’re very welcome.”

Your taxi shows up a few minutes later. It’s hard to watch you go, especially when you left him on dubious terms. Were you upset by his kiss? Nanami hopes to God that’s not the case. Or maybe you were appalled? Fearful, even? 

Nanami needs to turn his brain off—this cancerous spiral of thinking would only send him into a dark pit of guilt, and he had a web meeting later in the evening. After washing the dishes leftover from the breakfast endeavor, he sits on the sofa with his head in his hands

You tasted like fucking maple syrup.

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[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 11 -

M.List : Previous Part : 6.7k words

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? Also not edited!! CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

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Small beeping machines filled the silence between you and Katsuki as you waited for the doctor to walk in. Your condition wasn't bad so you only had a small room that was used for typical check-ups. The only reason you got the room was to avoid the public due to the status you and Katsuki shared.

The only reason you were in the ER was because even over the course of two months and a handful of weeks, your injury from the break-in was still thin. All healed but the skin was still pink and raised. A wound that goes straight through never fully heals. Katsuki still had issues with his from first year.

You often woke up to him grasping his chest and reaching for pain meds in the middle of the night. Mumbling that he was fine and that you could go back to sleep.

With how closed off he was about his pain, it reminded you of high school, how he avoided any conversation that dared to mention his pain. If you even suggested a support item that put less strain on his arm, he would snap and tell you to do what he says.

Always claiming he didn't need your help.

In the second year, he broke his leg. More so, it shattered it. It was a stupid mistake on his part during a practical exam. He was helping a 'citizen' escape a collapsing building and tripped on the way out. Everything was fine before he tripped but his foot was caught under cement when a support beam fell on his leg.

He pushed the citizen out of the way before they got hurt, everyone saw him get crushed by the building instead. You were watching his class do the practice so you could get a closer look at what might help them.

The practical didn't stop for anyone else, his classmates helped him from the ruble, mainly Kirishima and Uraraka. Lifting the support beam off him and analyzing his condition before taking him out of the exam.

You met them in the hallway, seeing the way Katsuki bit his lip in pain, face entirely scrunched.

He passed out from pain when he was set down in Recovery Girl's room. She rushed you out after that, telling you that he'd be fine when he woke up.

When he did wake up, you were by his side to help him out of the bed. His entire leg was in a cast, that he'd luckily only have to wear a week. At first, he pushed you away and refused any help. But after he got settled in his dorm room, he gave in the slightest bit.

"This is fucking stupid."

"I know," you sighed, sitting next to him on his bed.

"I hate this."

"I know," you adjusted the pillow that was placed under his injured foot. Him lifting it to make it easy.

He sighed heavily, letting his head fall into his pillow.

"Are you in pain right now?" you asked softly, his face was scrunched as if he was in pain.

"No."

You placed your hand on his gently. He had his hands folded together on his stomach. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not really."

You hummed, not knowing what path to take. He was always strange after he was in pain, always running from how he actually felt.

His hands opened for yours, grasping your fingers in his as he stared down at them. "Did you get that new book you were talking about?"

"Hm?" you shuffled to face your body towards him, careful of his legs as you sat on your own.

"The shitty romance one."

"Everything I read is shitty romance to you," you teased, "But yes, I grabbed it before school today."

"What is it now? The fifth fucking book?"

A gentle laugh left you, "Almost, it's the fourth one."

"God damn, you've been reading it since we were 10."

"You've been reading your comics since you could read and I don't tease you for it," you squeezed his hand playfully.

"Mines about blowing shit up, yours are about blowing people."

"Bakugo!" you flushed.

"What? M'Not wrong," he snickered.

"The third book is the only one that went there," you defend, "I only read that one last year. Shouldn't have told you about it."

"Didn't need to, literally caught you red-faced as you read it," he teased.

"Shut up!" you slapped at his shoulder with your free hand.

"It's not like that's the only book like that you read," he laughed, "You have thousands of that filth."

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Shut up!"

Katsuki settled his laughter. Thankfully letting the topic go.

He let go of your hands for a moment to wipe them on the bed next to him. He's always been paranoid of his sweat, you assumed a girl in middle school teased him for it and he's been embarrassed since. But you knew he'd never admit it, so you didn't bother to comfort him about it.

"Why do you read that stuff anyway?"

"What? Porn?" you flushed, not really wanting to talk to him about this. You've been dating for a month at this point. Your nerves were on edge at the thought of that territory. No amount of books could prepare you for taking that step with him. You weren't oblivious to how other relationships progressed, you knew how guys thought.

"No," he blushed, "Like the romance shit."

"Oh," you sighed, either in relief or disappointment that the untouched territory remained untouched. "I guess because it's thrilling?"

"How is that thrilling?"

"Like-" you fumbled your words for an example, "Our first kiss."

"What about it?"

"It was thrilling," you paused, embarrassed, "At least for me."

He hummed in agreement, letting you continue.

"Books do the same, in a way. It brings all the excitement and thrill you feel in real life if it's good enough. I get really immersed in it though, I read as if I'm actually there," you rambled.

"You crave that shit or something?"

"Romance?"

"Yeah."

"Of course I do, don't you?"

He changed the topic with a flush of red on his face, too proud to admit his emotions to anyone as he let his hands drop from yours.

The doctor entering your room now, in the present, ripped your thoughts off the past.

She greeted herself gently, talking to both you and Katsuki about your condition, "Thankfully it's only a surface burn, just needs a week or so to heal. Change the gauze after a shower and avoid getting water directly on it for the first couple of days."

Katsuki's shoulders sagged in relief as he ran his hands over his face.

You knew it wasn't bad, but he was worried. It obviously hurt like a bitch, but you weren't too concerned about it. He had it worse currently. You knew just from the face he was making now. He rushed you to the hospital after he realized what he did. Seeing you collapse onto the coffee table, gasping as you held your side in pain.

"If you could step out for a moment, I can finish checking her over and get you guys out of here," the doctor spoke calmly towards Katsuki, "Sir?"

He snapped his attention towards her, clearly having zoned out after she said you were okay, "What?"

"Would you mind waiting outside? We'll meet you on her way out after I ensure everything is set in place."

"The hell?" he pushed himself off the wall.

"I don't mind him being in here," you informed the doctor.

"It'd be best if he stepped out," she gave you a concerned look.

You sighed, she was kind and you didn't want Katsuki to get riled up, "Kats?"

He glared at you for a moment before giving in, "Fine." He walked out of the room with no extra fuss, grabbing your jacket for you on the way out. Making sure to stand so you could see him through the small window provided.

The doctor cleared her throat, "I have some protocol questions for you." You nodded your head for her to continue. She flipped a page on her clipboard, "Do you feel safe at home?"

"Yes," you took a breath in, prepared for the rush of questions.

She looked up from her clipboard, you already answered these questions with Katsuki near you. "This is a safe place, I understand his status might be frightening but I assure you-"

"Stop, he doesn't abuse me."

"Ma'am-"

"I'm safe at home, I promise. I know hero abuse cases are commonly untold but this isn't one," you knew that it was unfortunately common for heroes to get away with abuse. Abusing people who were scared of their status and denying any claims of it. They got away with it almost every time too.

"I apologize," she eyed you, still unsure of if you were telling the truth or not, "I'm just going on what's provided, the wound is shaped as a hand, on both sides."

You winced at the realization, hoping it wouldn't scar. Katsuki saw it already and you knew it didn't help his guilt. "Am I good to leave?" you huffed, annoyed that the healthcare thought your boyfriend abused you, and that your boyfriend thought he did too.

"Yes, but just know," she frowned, "Regardless if you need it or not, there are many resources available for help if needed."

While you were happy she cared and protected her clients, you felt horrible about leaving Katsuki alone to his thoughts. He likely knew the questions the doctor was asking, so you wanted to be by his side to assure him that wasn't what you thought of him in the slightest.

You followed all her steps to leave, having Katsuki tag along behind you until you got to the car. He opened the door for you, hesitating to help you sit down. Rather than offer a hand, he offered his forearm.

When he shut your door, going around to the driver's side, you let yourself relax. You hated hospitals with a passion. They always put you in the worst mood. The air was always stale, and tragedies were always happening in it. It reminded you that any day now, it'd be you facing those tragedies. Katsuki often made you sit in waiting rooms as he got healed from a nasty injury, and you hated it more each time.

But he was here now, that's all that matters. So you scolded your face as you smiled at him. Happy to have him sitting in the driver's seat next to you.

"I'm so glad to be out of there," you hummed. They gave you some pain meds to get through today, so you weren't in any pain. The situation didn't even bug you, though you knew others would disagree.

Katsuki shared no words as he started the car. He's hardly spoken since the two of you left the apartment. Only frantic questions to determine if you were okay or not.

"You okay?" you asked softly.

"Hm?" he hummed, entirely unfocused as he pulled the car out of the parking garage.

"Are you okay?"

"Mhm."

"Katsuki."

"What?"

"It's obvious you're not."

"M'tired," he shrugged.

You huffed in reply. Sure it was late, especially for him, but you knew that wasn't it. You knew somewhat what he was thinking already. You also knew how he would process it. He'd hold this guilt to himself until It was too much to carry himself, and he'd still carry it. His process was predictable but also unpredictable in the same ways. Sometimes he'd want you near, just your presence. Other times he wouldn't want you anywhere near him.

All you could do was show him he had someone if he wanted it. You'd avoid pushing him until you knew he needed it.

So in an attempt to do just that, you let the hand closest to his fall to reach his forearm and squeeze, a small squeeze that was just meant to show love.

He jolted away, moving away as if your hand was the touch of death.

"Sorry," you mumbled in shock, your hand reeled back and held to your chest in surprise. He's reacted negatively to your touch before, but nothing near this. It scared you about how he'd process this.

"Just-" he took a breath, flickering his eyes onto you for a moment before looking back at the road, "Don't."

"Okay."

---

Changing the gauze that night was awkward.

You called him into the bathroom once you were done with your shower and dressed. He padded into the room slowly, his head down as he got the gauze ready.

"You didn't take the wrapping off in the shower?" he asked once you lifted your shirt for him to see your sides.

"Um, no?" you looked down, "Just rip it off for me."

"I don't wanna hurt you," he shook his head.

With a huff, you carefully took your bandage off yourself. Peeling it off your skin before throwing it away. You hopped to sit on the counter, letting him get a clear view of your side.

The wince at your bare skin was obvious. His face furrowed, "You can't change it yourself?"

"Just change it, please? I can't get a good look at it."

"You can just use the mirror-"

"Bakugo," you scolded, "Just bandage it please?"

He huffed, looking from your side to the bandage, then to his hands. "Can I call Mei to do it?"

"You can't avoid touching me forever," you pointed out. 

"I'm not avoiding shit," he glared at you.

"Then change it yourself," you challenged.

He bit his tongue, obviously looking for another excuse to use, "Isn't this too personal?"

"Huh? Literally how?" you asked confused. Out of all the excuses he uses that one?

"I mean, I'm under your shirt-"

"These are your handprints-" you spoke without thinking, stopping when you saw his face drop further, "You've seen me get off, I don't think bandaging a burn on my side is too personal."

His face flushed, "Don't."

You took his warning and didn't bring up anything more 'scandalous' for his sake, "Can you just patch me up so we can go to sleep?"

He nodded before washing his hands off quickly, it reminded you of how he reacted to you. It was reassuring in its own way. It felt nice to know that you gave him butterflies even though he'd never admit it. He was so soft for you, it was sweet.

The wound didn't hurt too much as he put the gauze over both sides, bandaging it after. The drugs were doing their job, tomorrow you'd have to remember to take Advil or something to help.

Katsuki stared while he bandaged your side, traumatizing himself from how he hurt you.

Not wanting him to be in his head, you spoke, "Not too bad."

He offered his arm to help you off the counter, supporting your weight as you hopped down.

Even though you didn't need it, you let him help in the ways he wanted. Letting him pull back the sheets for you, and letting him tuck you in before going to his side. 

If you mentioned how much he was babying you, you knew he'd stop. You also knew that he would pout and fully push himself away from you. So you'd take what you would get.

He was being sweet after all, no harm in letting him continue like this.

"Thank you," you mumbled after he placed his phone down, alarm set for the next day. 

He grumbled out a noise of confusion before he shuffled to face you better. Wanting eye contact despite the dark room. 

"For fixing me up," you spoke softly.

Katsuki just kind of looked at you for a moment. Expressionless before a frown slowly turned his lips, "I'm the one that did it."

"It was a joint effort," you smiled, trying to lighten the moment.

"It's my handprints."

"That may be true but-"

"No buts."

"I was the only one pushing you to get so worked up," you defended him.

He rolled his eyes, moving to lay back down, "Doesn't matter, I know better."

Not wanting him to hold this to himself you tried to argue, "Kats-"

"Go to sleep," his voice was shot dry, only an inch of his actual emotion showing.

"Okay," you whispered. You lightly placed your hand on his back, trying to comfort him. His body trembled lightly.

He often shook when upset.

So you ran your hand soothingly up and down his back.

Despite his claims of wanting to be left alone, to not have any help, he fell asleep quickly with your hand rubbing his back. You followed suit. Letting your thoughts run wild.

You didn't get a single negative from the interaction, you were more so wrapped in the before. Before he burned your sides, which you knew he didn't mean to.

But before, he was kissing you with fever. Like a man starved. One simple challenge had him riled up. Grabbing onto you roughly to pull you closer to him. Letting you lick into his mouth before taking over the kiss more roughly. Moving his hands down so he could guide your hips.

If the moment didn't end so roughly, you liked to imagine the route it would take. The way he would groan into your lips. His arms flexed as you ran your hands over them, trying to grasp how real it could have been.

You'd let him have anything he was willing to take. You wanted him to want you, and in those small fleeting moments, he showed it. He showed just how much he wanted to ruin the both of you.

Sleep came easy, but with the arousal of your dream, you woke up at the small movement of him next to you.

It's only been an hour or two since you've fallen asleep, but you made yourself cozy. Ignoring the pain in your side to lay half on top of him. The movement you woke up to was him hugging you closer, his arms wrapped around you with the comfort of sleep on his mind.

You squeezed him tighter in response, selfishly soaking up the closeness while you could get it. Nudging your head into his neck to get closer to him.

"What are y'doing?" he mumbled, groggy with sleep.

With him awake you regretted your actions, he was a light sleeper when he was stressed. "Nothin," you murmured into his neck, leaving a light kiss.

"Doesn't feel like nothing," he hit his chin to your head, making you rise up, his hands falling off your body.

"I love you," you whispered, looking down at him slightly with how you hovered over his side.

He scrunched his nose, "What are y'doin?" he asked again.

You pecked at his face, leaving a light kiss on his nose before peppering kisses on his cheeks. The dream had you more loving than you'd like to admit. He was moving through the steps slowly but surely.

"Knock it," he grumbled. His hands stretched away from you in precaution. 

"You love it," you backed away for a moment to say, when you returned his face was warm, clearly flustered.

You moved your kiss closer to his lips until you hit them, kissing him softly for a moment before he gave in more. Letting you kiss him a couple of times before he locked your lips with his, biting your lip gently to keep you close. Your lips slowly moved together when you moved to get a better position. Your hips straddled his, just like it was in your dream, and just how you were before. Hands lightly cupping his cheeks as you kissed with loving intentions.

When you let your hands drift down to his chest, holding yourself up, you felt his heartbeat. It was racing against your touch, it ran a thrill through you, a smile gracing your lips as you kissed him a little harder.

His hands sparked up, grabbing your attention for a moment before you went to return to kissing. He has his hands placed far enough away that it couldn't hurt both of you. But his face was still scared. His lips kiss-swollen but his eyes were terrified.

"It's okay," you murmured, kissing him lightly, "I'm okay."

"My quirk-" he spoke between your lips.

"Can't hurt me," you stopped for a moment, "Just keep them over there, it's fine.

"The bed," he tried to find a way out.

With worry that he wasn't enjoying anything, you sat back, "We can buy new stuff," you tried to soothe, your hands running up and down his chest. He was breathing heavily. "If this is more worrying than anything, we can stop, Kats."

"Not scared?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Promise not to touch my hands?"

"I'd say pinky but that'd break it," you joked lightly.

He rolled his eyes, "Fine."

"Fine?"

"We can kiss, or whatever," his hands sparked, his eyes averted towards the ceiling.

"I know what you meant, but fine? Sounds like you're not into it, Kats-"

His hips rutted into you harshly, his feet bracing the movement, you lost your balance and were back to hovering over him. "Shuddup," he grumbled before lifting his head slightly, meeting you halfway. 

The thrill that you read for, lit up all your nerves. 

He was fully kissing you despite his quirk. He was fully kissing you. You think if he was more awake, and sat on the thought of hurting you again for longer, then he'd refuse. But he wasn't.

His movement early proved how into this he was. The length of him hard against his boxers. You were thankful that he was a hot sleeper, the thin clothing letting you feel all of him. You've seen him before, felt him underneath you before, but this felt better somehow. It was probably the reassurance that his quirk was fully there. Going off every couple of moments or after a particularly rough kiss. 

Each spark heightened the thrill of it all. 

His lips were pressed against yours, his tongue slipping between to catch you by surprise.

Your hands traced over his chest but settled on his biceps, feeling them twitch roughly before each bout of his quirk.

"I fuckin' love you," he muttered against you. Voice rough with the kiss.

You couldn't help the smile that crossed over your features as you moved your hips over his. Starting the cherished moment that you lost hours ago.

"I love you too, Kats," you whispered into his mouth. 

He groaned at the action, "Wanna touch you."

A spark shot up your spine when you heard his quirk go off again. You needed a breath and with the way his chest was heaving, you could tell he needed one as well. So you took greedy breaths in as you trailed kisses down his jaw and to his neck. Leaving pink marks behind that you knew would bruise. 

The state he was in right now was disorienting, but encouraging. He looked wrecked. His head tilted back so you could kiss more of his throat. His arms strained and fist clenched as he refused to risk touching you. It made you want more. So as selfishly as this started, you continued down that path the same way you continued down his chest. Leaving marks on his pecs before you shifted your body to kiss further down.

"What are y'doing?" he mumbled, tilting his head down to look at you, wanting you closer.

Talking about what you were planning was more embarrassing than doing it. "Can I suck you off?" you asked quickly.

He rolled his head back, "Jesus Christ."

You swallowed nervously, "Can I?" if he rejected you now, it'd be humiliating, but you'd listen.

He tilted his head back down again, looking into your eyes. "Skipping a couple bases, aren't you?"

You sat up straight again, getting more composed than before as you sat on his thighs. "Well yeah- but if you want me to jack you off first-"

A loud spark of his quirk shut you up. "Can't just say that," he hissed.

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

"You don't have to do anything."

"But what do you want?" you pushed.

You watched as his atom's apple bobbed as he swallowed, "Anything you're willing."

"But you commented on me skipping bases-"

"We can do those later," he cut you off, flustered.

You hummed, leaning back into his space and kissing his lips. Steadily going back into making out with him again. Moving your hands off his arms, squeezing at his muscles as you made your way down. Still working your lips against him as you slipped your hand underneath his boxers.

His entire body was tense as you moved down, but he jolted lightly when you wrapped your hand around him. The touch was probably still foreign to him. Knowing that he's only gotten off once with his own hand. You knew what he looked like from head to toe, but now you knew what he felt like. A steady vein on the underside, connecting to his tip. Veins lightly graced the rest of him. Not only did his dick surprisingly look good, but it made you want more.

When he bit your lip, you remember to focus on the kiss again. Your tongue tangled with his as you moved your hand over him before you moved it away, taking him out of his boxers for more movement.

Returning with less nerves than before. Grasping him lightly before you ran your hand fully over his dick.

After a few motions of your hand, it was clear he was losing it. The motion became familiar quickly so you were able to focus on his reactions. His hips were gently rocking into your hand. Letting you pump his length as he kissed you messily.

He was entirely unfocused, groaning into the kiss in a desperate attempt to keep you close. To give you anything he would.

"Wanna touch you," he whined into the kiss, hips rutting into your hand quicker.

"I know," you mumbled back.

His abs were tensing and untensing constantly, his hands doing the same.

You were surprised he was lasting this long. Probably more stuck in his head rather than the moment. Hardly even noticing when you stopped kissing him, he started breathing heavier.

Steadying your nerves was difficult as you moved further down his body, placing a kiss on each of his abs gently.

He was out of it, his hips rutting desperately to reach the high he craved.

Throwing yourself into your actions was commonly something you did, so it was only fair you did it now. Hesitantly placing a kiss on his tip when you were able, continuing to pump your hand along his length. It was just the extra push he needed, a broken moan left his lips and his hips slowed as he came in your hand. Quirk going off loudly.

"Fuckin' hell," his voice was shot.

It was unintentional, but he came over your lips, covering parts of your face in his cum. You couldn't blame him, it was as unannounced as you kissing his dick. So you continued to slowly pump your hand. 

"Enough," he basically whined.

Seeing him this wrecked was horrible, it made you want him more. But with a look at the alarm clock on his side, you knew he needed sleep. So you pulled away, moving to sit up straight. Wiping his cum off your lips with the back of your hand.

"Where y'going?" he grumbled, voice rough and eyes half-lidded when he managed to open them.

"Bathroom," you mumbled, you would kiss him, but you didn't want to disgust him.

When the small amount of light from the windows hit your face, his eyes widened, quirk popping off again.

"What?"

"Your face," he choked out, "Sorry."

You laughed lightly, "It's fine."

"Did it get in your mouth-"

"No."

"So you didn't taste-"

"No," you laughed at his questions, leaning down to whisper in his ear, "didn't want spoilers."

His quirk popped off as he moved his head to connect your lips. Wincing away after a moment.

"What?" you asked concerned.

"Don't fucking taste that," his face was sour.

You laughed at his face, moving off him to grab a towel from the bathroom. Cleaning your face before tossing him a wet rag. Him catching it easily from where he was sitting on the bed. "Sorry," he mumbled out.

"Hm?" you hummed, not entirely hearing him.

"Can't get you off and shit," he grumbled.

You laughed lightly, "We'll work around to it eventually I hope, if not, I'm happy just like this with you."

His frown deepened, quickly putting himself back in his boxers before you sat by his side again.

But you paused at the side of the bed. Where his hands were lying was burnt to pieces, a hole being singed into the mattress.

---

Unfortunately, you had work the next day. Though you could use the day off, you didn't want to get behind on work. Or spend another day alone in the apartment. Katsuki left without a goodbye. Only a short text saying he was at work. That was sent two full hours before he normally went in.

You shuffled into your office as usual, looking over the text again. Trying to wrap your head around his behavior since the hospital. It made complete sense for him to be wavery of his quirk, but you've never seen his quirk go off for small touches and he was avoiding those after you returned to bed. Having romance off the table for a while was fine, but everything else? That would be harder to live with. You shared small touches ever since you can remember, so going without that would be beyond weird.

The last two months were like that, and you didn't want to go back to that in the slightest. Sure your career progressed a lot, but you liked having Katsuki around. Even though he hardly gave them, his hugs were the highlight of your week. He flushed anytime you said that, and you didn't want him to take that away.

"What the fuck?"

Mei's pissed-off tone dragged your attention off your phone.

"Huh?"

"You fucking broke up with Bakugo?" she glared at you.

"What are you talking about?" you continued to your desk, throwing your stuff on it without a care.

"Why are you limping?" she did a quick scan over you.

"Sprained ankle," you shrugged off, she already seemed pissed enough, telling her Katsuki blew a hole in your side wouldn't help.

"Deserved, probably broke his heart."

"Since when did you care about his heart?" you glared at her, annoyed at the way she was taking your 'break up.' She was supposed to be your best friend, not his.

"Since you wrongfully broke it."

"He's fine-"

"Deku said he has been moping around all day."

You stopped for a moment, "He has?" you'd need to call him during your lunch break if so.

Mei threw her hands up, "Yes! Obviously! His girlfriend of three years dumped him because she can't get off!"

"Mei, you were telling me just a couple of days ago that I should dump him for that."

"I didn't mean it! There's plenty of other ways to get your rocks off."

"I don't want to hear about it," you cringed.

"You could probably make one-"

"Mei!"

The rest of the day followed on a similar footing. Not so much as ways to get off, but questions on why you and Katsuki broke up. People stopped by constantly asking about it, trying to get their taste of the office gossip.

They took your winces of pain as sadness, somehow, saying apologies and asking their questions after.

You couldn't catch a break, when you called Katsuki he let the call go straight to voicemail. Taking away your small bit of peace.

It made you leave work early, tired of the questions and wanting to meet Katsuki sooner rather than later. You also forgot to take pain meds to deal with your side, so you felt horrible. Regretting slightly how late you stayed up.

In a similar manner of how you entered work, you threw your keys on the table and stepped into the living room. Seeing Katsuki's stalk blonde hair.

"Kats," you placed your hands on his shoulders in greeting. Surprising him from behind the couch.

He jumped out of his skin at the feeling, "When'd you get home?" he turned to you frantically.

"Just a second ago? Did you not hear me?" he could normally sense someone's presence a mile away.

"No," he frowned, turning back away from you, shrugging your hands off his shoulders.

You frowned, moving around the couch to sit next to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he dismissed, looking down at his phone. Headlines with his name filled his screen, all negative.

"Z' said you've been moping."

"Nerd doesn't know shit."

"Katsuki, it's obvious."

"No, it ain't."

"Really?"

"I'm fine, knock it."

---

Though you hoped that he was just grouchy and sleep-deprived that day, he continued to be off. Obviously not fine, even a week after everything.

He was constantly avoiding your touches, no matter how small he jumped away from them. The light touches you used to place on his arms, even before the watch, were no longer okay.

Fully distant and he made no move to talk about it no matter what.

You tried to make small nudges towards him but he wasn't having it.

It was like you truly were just friends at this point. Even with you stood behind him as he cooked for the two of you, in your home together.

"Are you not going to talk to me?" you asked after the silence got too heavy for you to bear.

"What is there to talk about?"

You rolled your eyes, "You act like I shocked you when I was just grabbing the plate next to you."

"What about it?"

"Bakugo."

He turned to face you, abandoning the vegetables he was chopping. With the opening you stepped closer to him, cornering him into the counter.

"What are you doing?"

Slowly, you reached for his hands that were clenched at his sides.

"Stop," he moved his hands further behind him.

"Kats," you spoke softly, voice broken. Seeing the one you loved since elementary school back away from you hurt. For them to act like your touch was poison? It was a different type of pain that was heart-wrenching.

He was taking every step backward. Even in high school, he let you hug him, but now it was nothing. You didn't want that. Not in the slightest.

"Can you back up?"

You shook your head, looking down to gather yourself a touch more.

"You can't do this Kats."

"Do what?"

Tears brimmed your eyes when you looked up, "You said you were going to try."

"Yeah? Then I fuckin' burned you," his voice was rough, eyes were just as watery as your own.

"I'm fine-"

"You weren't."

"What about after that? You let me touch you then."

"It was a mistake."

You stepped back, thrown for a loop at what he said. "A mistake?

He swallowed nervously, "No- I meant me risking it. That was the mistake. Nothin' else."

"But you didn't even hurt me?"

"You saw the hole I left in the mattress. If I moved my hand for even a second, that would have been you."

You huffed, "Running away from it won't help."

"Don't care, not risking hurting you."

"I care Katsuki," you reached for him again, grabbing his hands even with his reluctance, "You never hurt me before with simple touches."

"I don-"

"Even in middle school, you let me hug you. Before all the training," you tried, "You know your limits."

"I thought I did," he spoke as if he was a failure.

"Because you do, I just pushed them. Look, no watch and no flirty touching?" you asked, begging internally.

He furrowed his brows, looking down at your hands, debating. He was giving in and it lightened the weight you felt on your shoulders, "Are you okay with that?"

"Yes, I just can't deal with none of you. I need your hugs," you laughed lightly, trying to brighten the mood with a tease at him.

"Fine," he sighed.

You hugged him tightly at the opening, thrilled that he agreed. Even if you were pushed off him moments after, his hands being held away from you to keep you safe.

---

Being back at square one was strange. The two of you figuratively danced around each other. Fleeting touches as if you were just friends. The romance was ripped from the relationship regardless of the agreement. You said no flirty touching, but every touch felt flirty.

It had you staring at him in longing.

"What?" he snapped after you stared at him for a solid minute. He was just trying to wash the dishes.

"Can we kiss?" you asked without a thought.

The plate he delicately held blew up into pieces.

"Fuck," he glared at you as he threw away the pieces of glass, "No."

"Come on," you pushed lightly, "You only sparked up when we kissed last because things went further."

He rolled his eyes, "Ain't risking it."

"We don't have to risk anything, you can hold your hands behind your back or something," you suggest, "Can't hurt the air."

"No."

"Can we try once?" you pleaded.

"You agreed no flirty touching."

"It's less flirty and more loving," you tried.

"Bullshit."

"Please, Kats?"

He glared at you for a moment, biting his lip in thought, "Will it make you shut up?"

"Yes."

"C'mere."

You pushed yourself closer to him, lifting yourself off your chair so you could lean far enough across the counter to meet him. You felt stupid when he only gave you a peck.

"Really?" you huffed.

"You said a kiss," he shrugged, washing the dishes with a smirk. Obviously happy that he annoyed you.

Even though he was happy he annoyed you, he seemed more happy about the kiss than you. Any interaction after that ended with a kiss.

Adding it onto his morning goodbyes, even with you sleepily accepting his small touch of love. Leaving a small kiss on your cheek was also another go-to of his.

He merged it into his daily routine and you couldn't be happier that you pushed him to do it. You often felt like you were pushing him too far, breaking through his consent. It made you feel horrible. The only thing that kept you from caving in on yourself was that he voiced many times that he loved touching you in any way possible, his only fear was his quirk.

That was the only reason you kept pushing, he'd tell you to fuck off if he wanted you to.

So you kissed him for longer each time.

When you got too into it, he'd gently pull away, "Can't."

"I know," you replied softly, your pain must have been obvious.

"I would trust me-"

"I know," you smiled at him. You didn't want him to feel bad about something he couldn't control.

He huffed, clicking his tongue in annoyance at himself, "Wish I could use this fuckin' watch. Then I could fuckin' do something."

You eyed his watch, "What exactly did the doctor say?"

"Hah?"

"About your watch?"

"Said I shouldn't have my quirk fully off."

"So you can have your quirk partially off safely?"

"Fuck do I know, why does it matter?"

"Well if your quirk is mainly off, you couldn't hurt me."

He eyed you for a moment, "So I can use it again?"

You looked at his watch-clad wrist in debate, "Once the doctor clears it, yes."

"Fuckin' finally," he smiled, kissing you roughly in excitement, "You have no idea the things Imma do to you," he whispered into your lips.

---

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic (I won't add you otherwise, sorry) comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

@supersecretsamm @maeveorsomethinggg @zoast32 @54fangirl @ellielover69 @aomi04 @mithicakurogo @ez4raa @suki0 @wildernessflora @dumbbitchenergy17 @schniti-is-in-the-house @xbieditz @poemzcheng @jaxyy219 @truwaifu @111june111 @eyesforbkg @mushroomsneedystuff @kazuumii @keiva1000 @atashiboba @ofcqdesi @americasass1942 @kaboomkayla @ilovedenk-i @iamyoursonly @albakugo @fairiesgloss @limitedstar @i-bitch-you-bitch @drageonix24 @sinyaaa @oddball08 @imsuperawkward @lomlchi @anime-manga-fanatic @irlpadfoot @chocoyanchan @gollumsmygel @yuptha-tsme @icedemon1314 @alstrums @andysdrafts @your-mum3000

[eyelambspider]

𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝. - König

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : The WX 400 model, or König, had been sitting in a Cyberlife store for nearly six months without so much as a glance from customers. He had been repurposed from a hard laborer to a sort of domestic care-giver... but the thing was, consumers only wanted the newer models. Until you came by. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.2 k 𝐚/𝐧 : consider this my masterpiece, probably will write a second part 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff, hurt/comfort(?), domestic fluff

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄. From the sleek tiled floors, to the large window panes that were cleaned daily, to the Androids that stood on display within.

On white pedestals, circled with fluorescent tags and holograms indicating their model numbers and generic purposes: Domestic housekeepers, caretakers, companions. Smaller synthetic machines that had friendly faces and sparkling eyes. Built for a life amongst humans.

He wasn't built for that. No.

His slate-colored eyes had watched for months, lingering over Cyberlife's newest models at the front of the store. A blank expression as each one smiled hopefully. Perhaps something they were programmed to do. To appear friendly?

He considered it a possibility, sure, but the 'front of the store' androids were a stark contrast to his own model.

The WX-series of androids had been built with only one purpose: hard labor, or to put it more simply, construction work.

When customers came into the store they only wanted one thing: a shiny new companion.

Everyday the eyes of those strangers would frown when they saw him. Hardly sparing the WX a glance before they turned around and considered an AX 400 instead.

An android built for housework and taking care of children, with a soft round face and a smile that reached all the way up to her kind blue eyes...

It seemed a diluted plausibility that one day the repurposed WX would eventually find a purpose. With everyday he inched closer to the possibility of being discarded. Simply unwanted.

Until a particularly cloudy day in May, one of the stares had caught his attention, even in his low power mode. Only able to shift his tired seeming eyes and move at a slow pace. Meeting that oddly new curious gaze of yours. The eyes of a stranger finally lingering on him.

Him.

"Excuse me?" You held your hand up sheepishly, asking for assistance from one of the android retailers, a young looking man with a head of soft brown hair and a blue circular LED on his right temple. The holographic label on his chest reading: Ethan.

"Hello, How can I help you?" Ethan stepped next to your side with a light smile.

You pointed to the WX in front of you, feeling a bit silly for even asking but... "Could you tell me about this one?"

The android salesman nodded, hands folded politely behind him, following your gaze towards the decommissioned android, unable to show the usual grimace humans showed the WX.

"Of course," he agreed easily, "This particular model is a WX 400, a decommissioned laborer. They aren't often sold in stores, but if you are interested I could tell you more about it."

The WX watched you nod, his eyes flickering occasionally between you and the sales-android.

"Why is he decommissioned?" you asked quietly, letting the question linger momentarily before Ethan perked up again, unbiased.

"The WX 400 was only decommissioned in its primary purpose, which was doing manual labor," the mechanical man explained with a synthetic smile, gesturing with his hands for your eyes to follow. "It works perfectly fine, and besides some damage to its synthetic skin and body, and a few replaced parts," he managed a soft light-hearted chuckle, "This model works perfectly fine, just not for its intended heavy lifting purposes. It will work perfectly fine for housework. Is that what you were looking for?"

As the sales-android considered the new possibility, he prompted a new question: "We have many other fine models if you are interested in something else."

The statement, whilst a little profound to you, meant next to nothing to the two androids who patiently awaited your answer.

"I was looking for someone to help around the house," you confirm.

The WX before you, nearing seven foot tall easily in the display case, glanced down at you. Unmoving, but like all androids, his eyes held an uncanny humanity within those blue depths.

He could see the consideration on your face. The way your eyes wearily, almost tenderly, traced the lines and deep scars on his synthetic skin. Deep grooves and lacerations running from his fingers, up his strong forearms and disappearing under the fabric of his standard Cyberlife shirt.

Even the androids face, while once maybe even considered handsome, had a deep scar running over its left side. Over his dirty blonde brow and high cheekbone, tracing over his lips to his chin.

It was a wonder he even worked properly, and the unspoken question must've been written all over your face again.

"The WX has had his diagnostics run perfectly well. I assure you the android itself works perfectly fine," Ethan smiled boyishly when you blushed.

"I don't doubt it," you assured him with an unintentionally adorable grin. "I've just... I've never seen an android like him," you admitted softly, those soft eyes meeting the WX's again.

He was looking right at you again.

Immediately your gaze dropped down shyly, unintentionally reading the blue holographic labels that surrounded the short white pillar he stood on.

"He has a name?" You asked, glancing over to Ethan for confirmation.

"Of course, but if you'd like to reset it-"

"No," you stopped him, feeling a bit more confident than you had when you first entered the store.

"König sounds fine to me."

König watched from his display, with a hint of utter- well... what would you call this?

Disbelief? Surprise?

Surprise when your complexion lit with a smile. Surprise when you said his name and turned to walk with the other android to the front of the store? Surprise as his eyes trailed after your form, unable to comprehend you.

For what reason could you possibly want a repurposed android like him?

It didn't make sense in the slightest, and although he watched you, he felt lost, considering possibilities that felt underwhelming in their answers.

His price was lower than others for being damaged. But so many had passed him by.

It was something König considered for a while, never finding a suitable answer until a new initiative popped across his sensors. Jolting him awake once more.

He was registered now to you. Your name popping across his vision like a directive.

"Thank you," you waved to the man who had helped you with a soft smile, getting a vaguely surprised gesture from him.

"Oh- You're very welcome!" Ethan smiled back and watched for a moment longer as you headed up to König, whom at that moment, was given back full control over his mechanical body. Unlocked from his low power mode.

The blue Thirium that cooled and powered his circuits rushed back into him. Circling through his veins and giving him back full control of his body. The world no longer running in slow motion.

König's hands lifted up slowly. The WX inspecting his hands and flexing his fingers into gentle balls. The two of you watched in silent awe as the large android moved once more, no longer destined for a Cyberlife disposal facility... but for.

König's vision refocused as you reached out. Your tiny hand taking one of his. Warm, and unmarred in contrast to his, and he could feel the almost imperceptible beating of your pulse beneath the contact.

"Come on," you smiled, not quite helping him from the stand, but guiding him down the small step. "I'll show you how to get back home, König," you mused, feeling the large androids cut up hand grip yours a bit tighter.

© Eyelambspider. I only post here on Tumblr! könig photo credit to my friend @koharu-rk800

[dancingtotuyo]

Part I

High Infidelity | Joel Miller X Female Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Summary: Tommy gets himself into more trouble than he can get out of.

Tags: Tommy x Reader, Joel x Reader, Tommy's Wife Reader, infidelity, emotional affair, slow burn (as much as you can get for 5 chapters), Tommy goes to jail, Reader has had a child

Warnings: US justice system (it don't work, probably bad understanding of how it operates), mention of drugs & weapons, alcohol consumption, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: when I planned this out, I didn’t realize I’d scheduled the first chapter to drop on Pedro’s birthday! So happy birthday to him!

Shout out to @janaispunkfor beta reading and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me scream about this endlessly and shaping this world. Finally, @saradika-graphics for sustaining our fic writers with an endless supply of dividers!

Words: 4396

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist | Daily Clicks for Palestine & Other resources

You’re asleep, or at least you should be except the phone is ringing and the bed is cold next to you. That’s a bad sign. It always is. 

A small grunt echoes from your gut as bare feet hit the cool hardwood floor. You can’t find the phone before it stops, buried under clothes you haven’t folded, scribbled crayon drawings, and bleary eyes. It starts back almost immediately.

“Tommy?”

“He called me.” Joel’s voice echoes through the line. “It’s bad this time.”

“How bad?”

“He asked for a lawyer.”

You press your palm to your forehead. “Shit!”

“The sitter is on her way to yours. I’m getting Sarah up now. We’ll be there in 10.”

“Thank you, Joel.”

“Of course. See you soon.”  Joel hangs up. 

You roam through the laundry basket for a clean pair of jeans and an acceptable t-shirt. You run a toothbrush through your mouth to freshen your breath. You do your best to push back all the possibilities running through your brain. 

You crack open the door to Nathaniel’s room. Your two-year-old son sleeps tightly, his mop of black curls spread out on the pillow. You want to run your hand through his curls and kiss his cheek, but he’s the world’s lightest sleeper, just like his daddy. 

The sitter is there 5 minutes later, all too familiar with this routine for your liking. Joel ushers in a bleary-eyed minutes later. He tucks her into the spare room bed. Sarah doesn’t ask questions. She’s asleep before he can kiss her head.

You move like the well-oiled machine that you are. He grabs your purse, ensuring the checkbook is there while you say a few words to the sitter. Joel hands you the small black bag and a light jacket.

Doors open before you and close without you touching them. You and Joel are riding down the highway. The windows are cracked, the breeze playing through your hair as street lights play off the windows, growing bigger and brighter as your eyes fill with tears. You chew on your thumb as the thoughts finally begin to take over.  

You’ve felt Tommy slipping these past few months. You’ve tried to ignore it, excuse it. He’s had a hard time adjusting. This is hardly the first time he’s been in jail. It feels like a weekly occurrence at this point, but he’s never needed a lawyer. He’s never been held longer than overnight. 

“Did he say what they got him for?”

“No… he asked me to come alone.”

“Fucking hell.” You run a hand over your face. Tommy’s antics are aging you prematurely. 

“He’s going to be okay.”

“Says who?” You snap. “We’ve been doing this dance for months, Joel! I know he’s having a hard time adjusting, but maybe we’ve been giving him too much room.”

Joel sighs, letting silence fall over the truck cabin. His blinker clicks as you turn into the familiar station. You wonder if the night shift is actually going to fulfill their punch card offer this time. 

Joel has barely pushed the truck into park before you’re out of the vehicle, flying through the front doors. Joel is hot on your heels, not bothering to lock his beat-up pickup. 

Your ID is already on the desk, you don’t even have to say a name. The officer at the front desk doesn’t need your license. He barely looks at it. It’s all a raging formality. They escort you to a room, not a holding cell as you’re used to.

Tommy sits at a table talking to a tired-looking public defender. His head snaps up, eyes jumping from your face to Joel’s behind you. “I told you to come alone.”

“The fuck you did Thomas James Miller!” You say before Joel can defend himself.

Tommy stands to his feet, the chair skidding back. “You’re not supposed to be here for this!”

“I’m your wife! You call me!”

“Or maybe you should be home with your child!”

“Oh, I should be home with our son? And what about you?”

“I’m not having this fight with you right now.” Tommy throws his hands in the air moving his attention to Joel who leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “You were supposed to come alone!”

“What’re you in for?” You ask, not giving Joel a chance to answer. Not that he was going to. He knows not to let Tommy deflect to him when you are around. 

Tommy sighs falling into the chair like a rag dog. Stress lines engrave themselves deep into his forehead.

“Tommy…” A pit drops in your stomach. “What did they get you with?”

“A gun-“

“Without a permit.” The Lawyer speaks for the first time. There’s a roll to Tommy’s eyes. 

“And?” 

Tommy can’t meet your eyes. He shuffles in his seat. 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice low and gruff. It’s automatic, parental even.

“A couple grams of coke.”

“Fucking hell, Tommy.” Joel hits his head against the wall. 

“I didn’t- I never took it. I promise.”

You take a shaking breath, trying to calm your worn nerves. “So what are we looking at here?” You ask, eyes trained on the lawyer. 

You see Tommy out of your peripheral vision using his pleading puppy dog eyes on you. You square your shoulders determined not to fall for it. They’re the reason you’re in this boat in the first place. 

“Babe-“

You hold up a hand cutting him off, eyes trained on the lawyer. “What are we looking at?”

“Probably Jail time. DA’s office has been cracking down on these kinds of cases the past few months.”

“Is he getting out tonight?”

The lawyer shakes his head. “We have to wait until tomorrow for arraignment and bail.”

“Then, I’ll see you two tomorrow.” You give them a firm nod, exiting the room in a flash.

The Texas air wraps around you as you exit the stale police station. Joel’s pick-up is cool under your fingers, anchoring you to something.

This can’t be happening. You’ve felt him slipping through your fingertips for months, but you wonder if this is it if this is the moment you lose Tommy for good. 

Firm arms wrap around your waist. It’s a warmth you’ve become way too familiar with over the last couple of years. You turn around, letting your tears soak Joel’s shirt as they have so many times before. You twist his shirt in your fists as he cradles your head against his chest. There’s a slight sway in his movements, soothing your wrenching soul. 

“We’re going to get through this.”

“He had cocaine!”

Joel sighs. “I know.”

“I can’t keep doing this. It’s going to kill me.”

“Let’s get you home. Get some sleep.” Joel squeezes you and then guides you into the passenger side seat. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

“What time is-“

“Lawyer said about 11. Wants us to meet them at the courthouse at 10.”

You nod, clearing the tears. “Okay.”

The drive home is quiet. You’re used to Tommy throwing out every excuse in the book, promising he’s going to change. The silence makes you want to scream. How do you go forward? How do you explain to Nathaniel that Daddy won’t be home for a long time? Jail Time. It bounces off the walls of your brain like a gong over and over. 

You’ve done this before. Raise your son alone. Tommy was overseas when Nathaniel was born. You did the first 3 months on your own- or sort of alone. Joel and Sarah spent many nights at your and Tommy’s home those first few months helping you through the learning curve of being a new parent. If you’re completely honest, you’re still doing it alone, but now with a shell of a man to look after as well. 

Joel hands the sitter cash and she’s gone without a word. Your purse and jacket are forgotten on the chair as you collapse onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. The weight of the night threatens to finally break you. 

“Here.” The cool weight of a bottle presses against your jeans.

“Thank you.” You take it, tipping the bottle back in unison with Joel in a quiet ritual. 

“I think I’m just gonna crash on the couch tonight.”

You nod, a humorless huff leaving your chest. “Just like the good ole days, I guess.” 

Joel looks over your profile, catches the wear in your frame, the silent tears slipping from your eyes. The rattle in your chest changes from sarcastic to sorrow and then a sob slips from your lips. 

Joel sets his beer on the coffee table, arm slipping around your shoulders. He pulls your loose body into his side. For the second time that night, your face burrows into his chest. 

“Shhh, I’ve got you, Darlin’. We’ll get through this.” His voice is soft and soothing. His fingers brush softly over your head down to the back of your neck. You fall asleep like that, lulled by the steady beat of his heart. 

You wake up to the morning sun, your body stiff from sleeping on the couch against Joel. He’s up, the smell of coffee wafting toward you. You hear him talking to Sarah and Nathaniel in the kitchen. 

You stand, stretching out your sore muscles in wrinkled clothing following the promise of caffeine. Sarah and Nathaniel sit at the kitchen table with syrupy smiles. 

“Mommy!” Nathaniel yells. 

You force a sleepy smile, kissing his sticky cheek. “Morning, sweet cheeks.” You dip your finger in the syrup on his plate, licking it off your fingertip making him and Sarah laugh. “Morning, Sarah Bear.”

“Morning, Auntie,” She says. “Your clothes are wrinkled.”

Joel’s hand lands on your back and a cup of coffee lands in your hands, sending warmth through your body. The hum in your body is automatic. “Thank you.”

Joel only nods, returning his attention to the pancakes sizzling on the stovetop. You sip on the hot coffee. Joel prepared it exactly how you like it, just like he always does.

 “You hate pancakes.” 

“Yeah, but the gremlins love them.”

“That they do.” You grin, sipping on the coffee again. “Ugh, it’s infuriating the way you come into my home and make better coffee than I do.”

Joel chuckles, flipping two fluffy pancakes onto a plate. He tops them with cut-up strawberries and whipped cream handing them to you with the biggest shit-eating grin. “And pancakes.”

For a minute you forget it all, the impending arraignment, your husband in jail for unregistered weapons and drug possession, the two children sitting mere feet away. It’s just you and Joel and a stack of whipped cream-covered pancakes. Joel who held your hand through labor and helped you with midnight feedings. The man who got you through Tommy’s deployment. The one who always calls the sitter and drives you to the police station when Tommy gets himself in trouble. You and your rock. 

The shattering of glass echoes through the kitchen. “Uh-oh!”

You spin around, taking in the broken glass on the floor. Orange juice leaks over the table, dripping over the edge. You and Joel spring into action, pancakes forgotten. “Both of you stay in your seats,” You say.

Joel grabs the broom before you, sweeping up the shards, his feet already protected in his boots. You turn off the stove, keeping an eye on both children to ensure you don’t add bloodied feet to your morning agenda. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” Sarah says, keeping her feet crisscrossed beneath her. She looked up at you. “Sorry about your glass, Aunt Bonnie.”

You smile at her, handing Joel a towel to soak up the spilled juice. “It’s okay, Sarah bear. I just want you to be okay.”

She nods back, curls bouncing around her face. “I’m okay.”

You sigh, staring at the pancakes on the counter. The whipped cream has melted into a lopsided mound, half of it turned back into cream that soaks through the pancakes. You take a bite, the flavors settling nicely over your tongue even if the texture of the pancakes is slightly off. For a man who claims not to like them, Joel Miller sure knows how to make a mean pancake. 

Your mind plays back to the nickname. Not many people call you Bonnie anymore. Just a few years ago, it had been a constant. Stemming from Tommy’s group of army buddies, they declared you Bonnie for always stealing Tommy away from their group cookouts and whatnot, and Tommy was Clyde due to his propensity for getting into trouble. For whatever reason, probably just to annoy you, Tommy had introduced you to Sarah as “His Bonnie.” So that’s what she calls you. 

Joel empties the remaining shards into the trash can. Several high-pitched clinks sound off until the shards settle. Your fork stirs the whipped cream and syrup together. 

“Pancakes are usually best eaten, not played with.” Joel teases, picking his coffee up to take a sip. His fingers graze your arm as he sets it back down, returning the broom back to its rightful place.

”You don’t even like pancakes.” You furrowed your brow, taking another bite. Whipped cream marks your upper lip. You take another bite. “God, one day you have to tell me your secret.”

Joel chuckles. He leans across the counter, elbows resting against the granite much like yours. He sips on his coffee, eyes watching as you stuff another bite into your mouth. “I’ve got many secrets, Darlin.”

You laugh, mouth full of fruit and cream. “You’re an open fucking book, Miller.”

”I think I could surprise you several times over.” He chuckles. Something sparks behind his eyes like he’s actually keeping something from you. You’ll figure it out. You always do. 

“These are delicious, Joel, but if I take another bite, I’m gonna be sick.”

Joel frowns. “You feeling okay? You don’t have a fever do you?” He presses his fingers to your forehead before you can roll your eyes. 

“Anxiety.”

Joel nods. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his mouth.

You cock your head to the side brain not picking up on the obvious signals. He sighs in mock exasperation. Reaching forward, he wipes the whipped cream from your lip with his thumb, pressing the excess to his mouth. The moment catches you off guard, something stirring in the back of your mind as you zero in on the thumb pressed to his lips. 

“You should go get ready.” He says as if nothing happened, taking your plate. “We need to leave in an hour.”

You nod, pushing back from the counter. The weight of the day at hand keeps that moment from playing over and over again on a loop.

”Daddy,” Sarah says. “Isn’t it time for school?”

”You’re going to stay here with Nathaniel and Miss Lacy today. Your aunt and I have some things we have to do.”

”Oh,” Sarah nodded. “Uncle Tommy things?”

You stop, sharing a look with Joel. You’ve tried your best to keep Tommy’s troubles from the kids, but it’s inevitable. Sarah is almost 6 after all. She’s always been incredibly perceptive and observant. 

“Daddy?” Nathaniel asks, looking around. Your heart breaks a little bit. 

Your mind wanders. When will he get to see Tommy again? 

Joel takes the lead when you arrive at the courthouse for which you’re grateful. You’re both dressed in nice clothing. High heels clack beneath you. A tie reaches around Joel’s neck. You hold Tommy’s suit in a garment bag as a guard leads you to an office-like room. Tommy sits at a table with his layer from last night and another man you don’t recognize. They seem to be deep in a serious conversation. 

All three men turn as you enter, making you feel like you’re in the wrong place. You can’t tell if Tommy is relieved to see you or not. A pit forms in your stomach, like you’re not going to like the outcome of this meeting. 

“What’s going on?” You ask. 

The door clicks shut behind you as Joel’s scent creeps around you.

”We’re talking.” Tommy says. 

“About?” You press. 

Tommy sighs, unable to meet your eyes. “A plea deal.” 

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. This is easier. It’s probably better in the long run, but you’re not ready to face the music. You prepared for court, not a plea deal. Not for Tommy to admit guilt with a stroke of a pen, not a judge in sight. 

“What’s in it?”

”Baby…” Tommy pleads like he wants to make amends right now. 

“What are you signing us up for, Tommy?”

“Two years and a half years. Probation after that.”

You inhale sharply. 

“It’s a good deal,” The man you’ve never seen says. “He’s looking at at least twice that if this goes to court, and he will be convicted if this goes to court.”

You look to Tommy’s lawyer for confirmation. He doesn’t make it obvious but gives you a solid nod. 

“You were about to sign it.” You look at your husband. It’s not a question. 

“Yeah.”

”I’d have appreciated it if you had talked to me first,” you say. 

“You’d have told me to sign it.”

You nod, barely keeping the tears at bay. “Yeah.”

The DA holds a pen out to Tommy. Tommy looks back at you for final permission. You give it, watching that expensive ass pen glides across the paper with Tommy’s chicken scratch of a signature. Your heart breaks with each stroke, crumbling a little more as he dots the I and crosses the T.  

Joel places a hand on your shoulder. The heat spreads, anchoring you to the moment, keeping you afloat as you stare down the barrel of being a single mother yet again. 

Tommy slides the paper back to the DA. He looks them over, tapping them against the table with a satisfied nod as if a family hadn’t been torn apart. 

“You have about 30 minutes before they come to get him.”

”That’s it?” You ask. “We can’t even take him ourselves?”

The DA shrugs like he’s being generous, igniting a deep hatred of him inside you. You don’t even know his name. He holds up the papers before sliding them into his briefcase. “Terms of the plea deal.”

You clutch your fists as he walks out of the room. Tommy’s lawyer slips out with him, and then Joel, leaving just you and Tommy. 

He stands and you finally realize it’s all happening again. You’ll be alone, worrying about your husband though this time for different reasons. 

“Baby, I-” He steps towards you. You don’t move offering zero indication that you register Tommy’s movements. 

He reaches for your hands, but you pull them back. “You weren’t supposed to take the Bonnie and Clyde thing seriously.” 

You fight back tears, turning so he can’t see them. “Pretty sure they both died.”

A humorless laugh leaves your body as you collapse onto a couch, holding your head in your hands. 

Tommy kneels in front of you, slowly peeling your hands from your face, taking them into his. Despite it all, you feel yourself melting into his familiar touch. It only confirms what you are beginning to fear. It doesn’t matter what Tommy does, you’ll always be here waiting for him. He is the love of your life and you would burn the world down to look into his sweet brown eyes and feel his skin against yours. 

You look at him through blurry eyes, sniffing back the congestion gathering in your sinuses. He gives you that crooked smile you love so much, and you feel better despite the weight bearing on your shoulders. The past three years have aged him ten. You suppose time has done the same to you.

Slowly, he presses his lips to your hands. “I know I fucked up. If-” He pauses, swallowing. His thumb plays with the thin gold band on your left hand. “If you’re not waiting for me when I get out I understand.”

You squeeze his hand. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Tommy snorts. “Easily? Just last week you were yelling at me for putting you through hell.”

“Yeah, well…” You run your fingers through his black curls as you sniff back your tears. “You kinda hold my heart in your hands, Tommy Miller. I don’t think I could get it back if I tried.”

He smiles at you. You lean forward, pressing your lips to his. His hands creep up your thighs as he rises to his feet. Your back collides with the plush back of the couch as your fingers tangle in his long hair. Tommy presses his tongue into your mouth, a smile growing across your face. This is the first taste of your Tommy you’ve had in months, the one you fell in love with. 

The door opens, and before Tommy can pull away, Joel’s gruff voice echoes through the room. “Prospect of going to jail really puts you two in the mood, huh?” 

Heat surges to your cheeks. You’re not sure why. You and Tommy had been caught in much more compromising positions throughout your relationship.

“Gotta get what I can while I’m still a free man.” Tommy grins at his big brother, pressing another exaggerated kiss to your lips. Joel’s eyes move to the corner of the room. Your smile feels a little more forced after that. 

Your thirty minutes fly at lightning speed. They take Tommy before you’re ready. Any energy you gain from Tommy’s affection is drained the moment he’s led out of sight. You barely catch the look he gives Joel.

”Take care of them.”

Joel nods, gripping his brother’s shoulder. There’s a silent exchange between them. “Take care of yourself.”

 A clerk goes over everything with you and Joel. You’re given a strict list of items you can drop off for Tommy at the prison. You don’t process a word, the weight of it all falling on top of you. You came to the courthouse today expecting an arraignment and bail, not to be kissing your husband goodbye for the next year and change. It feels unfair like something was taken from you. 

Joel is the one who keeps it together. He always keeps it together. He asks the questions and makes note of the important things. He secures the horde of important documents held limply in your hands. 

When the clerk says your name for a second time, or maybe a third, you’re not sure, it snaps you out of the fog. Joel’s eyes are sympathetic as he holds out a pen. His single nod tells you he has all the information in his head. You can sign. You don’t have to think. You sign as flashes of Tommy doing the same filter through your vision. 

The pen drops to the table as you push back headed straight for the nearest exit. You feel like you’re in a dream. Joel catches up, tucking everything you forgot under his arm. He grabs your elbow, steering your aimless body in the right direction. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He knows the answer. 

You feel like a toddler, wandering and lost, relying on Joel’s firm grip to get anywhere. He opens doors and boots you into his pickup, patting the door once it’s closed. The car is warm from the sun. You fumble with the seat belt, but Joel’s calloused hands are there, guiding your weary bones. 

The ride is silent. You basket in the warm sun, head pressed to the window with your eyes closed. The world feels so far away, but you’re extremely tuned into the heat of the sun, the rumble of the truck on the shitty roads, the blinking indicator light, and Joel’s listless tapping on the steering wheel when the vehicle draws to a stop from time to time, toeing the line between consciousness.

This is just a dream, right? You’ll wake up soon and Tommy will be behind you, drawing random patterns around your stomach hip, or thigh. The past year of your life and the past 12 hours have just been the world’s longest nightmare. That’s all. 

The truck lurches to a stop. The engine turns off with a distinct click. Your eyes blink open slowly. Your stretch out, toes curling in your dress shoes. Joel’s tie lays haphazardly on the dash. His cuffs are unbuttoned, pushed to his elbows, and the top couple of buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He still looks out of place in his dress attire, but a little more like himself. He hadn’t dressed this nicely for your and Tommy’s courthouse wedding. 

Your eyes drift out the windshield. A neon light reflects off your irises. This isn’t home. You look at Joel. “Why are we here?”

His seat belt comes undone with a click, snapping back. “We’re going to go in there and get drunk off our asses.”

”It’s the middle of the day.”

Joel raises an eyebrow at you. 

”Can we just go home?”

”No.”

”Why the fuck not?”

“Because we have a sitter all day, and you deserve a night before the weight of the world falls back on your shoulders.”

”Joel.” You want to go home and crawl in bed.

”This is three times longer than his deployment.” The statement hits you square in the chest. “You need this. Give yourself today. If you don’t do it now, you never will.”

You sigh, staring down the flickering neon in front of you. He’s right. You know he is. You might be exhausted, but it’s tempting. When was the last time you let go? Maybe that one good month you had after Tommy got back? When it was all making up for lost time and shit. 

“We’ve got a sitter for the whole day,” Joel says. “My treat.”

You inhale deeply, allowing the memories of drunken nights past to fill your brain. You can feel the thrum of alcohol already. You haven’t cut loose in a long time unless you count the nights spent at home alone drowning away the world after you’d tucked your son in for the night. 

Your fingers press the red release button of your seat belt. The metal buckle hits the window. “Fuck it. Let’s go.”

Joel smiles, dragging you inside.  

Taglist: @pamasaur @alltheotps @rizzraa @moel-jiller @misstokyo7love @justagalwhowrites @pedritosgfreal

[joonsmagicshop]

Friend or Fuck? Part Two

Summary: Namjoon hasn't forgotten the promise he made you and he's ready to deliver.

Paring: Namjoon/Reader (Yoongi and Jungkook are minor characters)

Work Count: 10k

Rating: M/18+

Tags: wet dreams, lots of build up, heavy make outs, dirty talk, smut, fingering, spanking, blow jobs, hand jobs, Jungkook is a menace (affectionate), porn with feelings

Authors Note: THE LONG AWAITED PART TWO!!!

Part One

His large hands are rubbing up and down your thighs. Your breath is coming out whiny and needy as you buck your hips to get his fingers closer to where you need them most.

He chuckles darkly, narrowed eyes staring into yours as he grabs your legs to part them, fingers dancing softly over your skin making another moan fall from your lips.

“Please-Fuck-Please.” You cry out, unable to hold back the whiny tone in your voice.

“Love when you beg for me.” He mutters, pressing a hot kiss against your knee as his fingers trace up and down your body, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

He finally stops his teasing and you let out a high moan when one finger finally slips between your legs and runs through your folds. You spread your legs further, wanting him to have as much space to pleasure you as he can

A dark chuckle leaves his lips at your desperation, but you can’t care about that now, not when he has finally touched you after what felt like ages of teasing.

“Please.” You cry out when his finger dances across your clit. His eyes are dark and staring at you in a way that makes you shiver.

He is so good with his hands, you knew that from experience but you could hardly wait.

“God baby you’re tight gonna have to stretch you out good to take my cock.” He growls as he starts pumping his finger inside you slowly.

You shiver at the words, knowing you had heard them once before, but hearing them again, knowing this time you would get his cock made your core throb and your pussy pulsate around his fingers.

“P-Please.” You beg out feeling his fingers start to speed up. He is hovering over you on top of the bed, you can see the outline of his hard cock, straining and begging to be touched. You want to reach out and touch it, stroke him until he is so desperate he has to fuck you.

“Come on baby girl give me one orgasm then I’ll fuck you right.” He growls.

You whine out. You are close, so unbelievably close. His fingers are magic against your body and when he adds another finger you arch off the bed, pretty moans falling from your lips as your eyes roll in the back of your head. You are close, so unbelievably close...

Sunlight streaming through the window snapped you out of your dream.

You cracked an eye open to come face to face with the coffee table that was littered with drinks and leftover snacks from last night's movie marathon with Jungkook.

You sighed and sat up, rubbing your eyes and squinting at the sun that was spilling through the blinds.

Last night Jungkook had invited you over for a movie marathon and you stayed up way too late getting lost in some of his favorite flicks. When you tried to cut the night short and drive yourself home Jungkook waved his arm claiming it was too late anyway and you should just stay the night. You did keep a bag of clothes in his spare bedroom just in case so you pulled the blanket tighter around your body as you started the third movie.

Never did you imagine you would be having a full-on sex dream on his couch and your face burned at the thought.

“Morning.” Came a sly voice from behind you as you whipped around to see Jungkook standing in the kitchen with a smirk on his face.

“What time is it?” You asked still feeling bleary as you watched him walk over to the coffee machine to make you a cup as well.

“Ten in the morning. I just got back from the gym.” He explains as he gets out your favorite creamer and adds it to the cup, making your coffee just the way you like it.

“Shit, you should have woken me up.” You say as he comes over to hand you the cup, the sly grin not leaving his face.

“It's all good I wanted to hit the gym today anyway and you seemed tired.”

You wrap your hands around the warm mug and send Jungkook a soft smile.

“Soooo what were you dreaming about. It sounded....interesting.” He teases with a wink.

“I wasn't dreaming about anything.” You lie knowing that he will see through it. You have been friends with him too long for that.

“Uh-huh. So I didn't come home from the gym to hear you moaning on my couch?” He asks.

You bury your face in your hands as embarrassment takes over. You weren't about to tell him what you were dreaming about. Or more importantly who you were dreaming about.

“Hey, it's nothing to be embarrassed about it's human nature right? I just didn't expect to come home to that. I mean you were moaning and your legs kept twitching-”

“Jungkook! Please! Drop it. Please.” You beg as you stare at him through your fingers.

He smirks at you.

“Okay fine. But hey good for you getting some in a dream! Anyway, I'm going to shower because Yoongi texted me this morning. He wants that game back that I borrowed ages ago and told me I better drop it off this week or he won't cook for me anymore. How rude right?” He asks as you slowly come out from behind your hands and breathe a sigh of relief.

“So Yoongi's first then errands?” You ask.

“Yeah we have to stop by the studio quick then I'm all yours! Told him I'd meet him around eleven so I'm gonna start getting ready.” He says as he pats your shoulder and goes off to the master bedroom.

You clean up the living room and make your way to the spare bedroom where your clothes are kept trying to shake the dream from your mind as you get ready.

The drive to the studio is quiet. Jungkook is humming a song on the radio as his hand drums against the steering wheel. For once you wish he was talking your ear off because going to Yoongi's studio means you might run into him.

It had been three weeks since you had seen Namjoon. After that day he had not reached out to you at all and seemed to disappear into his work. You understood though because Jungkook did the same thing which was why you were spending the day with him, to make up for lost time.

You were nervous to see Namjoon again, worried that he changed his mind, or even worse forgot that the whole thing even happened.

These worries had manifested into dreams. Very explicit dreams of all the things you wished he would do to you.

Before you knew it Jungkook was swiping into the underground parking lot and your heart was hammering wildly under your coat.

“You okay?” He asks snapping you from your thoughts as you nod and you both get out of the car and head towards the elevator.

“I promise it will be quick then you have me all to yourself.” He teases nudging you with his shoulder as you feel the elevator rise to the sixteenth floor.

The doors open and you follow Jungkook down a brightly lit hallway. Your hands are clammy and you shove them in your coat pockets.

Jungkook knocks and you hold your breath as the door flings open.

And there stands Min Yoongi in torn jeans and a tee shirt covered by a cardigan, hand outstretched to grab the game from Jungkook before he lets either of you in.

“What no hello? Just hey give me my game?” Jungkook teases as Yoongi shoots him a stern look and the game gets handed over.

“Come in!” Yoongi says as he moves over so you and Jungkook can enter.

You don't have time to look around and take in how beautiful the space truly is because sitting in a rolling chair next to the computer is none other than the man who haunts your wet dreams.

He is sitting there in loose sweatpants and the same sweater he wore that morning. His hood is pulled up over his hair but does nothing to hide his gorgeous face and sharp eyes.

You almost feel your knees give way when you make eye contact with him.

His lips part slightly, like he can't believe you are here and you break his gaze, instead staring around the room.

“Y/N can we borrow Jungkook for a bit, we need help with a certain part of this song?” Yoongi asks as you nod and head over to the couch, trying to get comfortable and not seem so flustered by seeing Namjoon.

As Yoongi and Jungkook turn their backs to you to gaze at the computer Namjoon sends a wink your way before fully turning around and leaving you blushing.

The boys work as you scroll through your phone and before long an hour has passed and Jungkook seemed to help fix whatever problem they were having.

You could sense things were wrapping up so you tucked your phone into your pocket and stared at Namjoon. Sure you could only see his back but your mind wandered to how it would feel to scratch your nails down that back, to mark him as yours, to watch his muscles flex under his skin when he would fuck you into the mattress.

Your mind was spinning all these fantasies to the point where you didn't hear Jungkook calling your name.

“Huh? What?” You asked staring up at your friend who looked down at you with a knowing smirk.

Well. Shit.

“I said I'm ready to go if you are, seemed like we lost you there for a second.” He said as you gathered your things quickly and avoided Namjoon's questioning gaze, pushing yourself up from the couch to join Jungkook.

“Y/N I'm sorry I know we stole Jungkook from you for a bit but how have you been I don't think I've seen you since Jimin's party?” Yoongi asked politely.

At the mention of the party, Namjoon's face snaps up and he stares you down with a knowing look in his eye.

“I've been good. You know things have been busy. But good.” You confirm with a nod as he shoots you a gummy smile.

“Yeah, any weird dreams lately Y/N?” Jungkook asks.

You shoot him a death glare but he just grins at you.

“Jungkook.” You warn trying to keep your voice low.

“Did you have a nightmare or something?” Yoongi asks with genuine concern in his voice.

“Nah the opposite.” Jungkook grins as you shoot him daggers begging him silently to drop the subject.

“Opposite of a nightmare?” Yoongi ponders and you want to disappear into the floor.

“Well yeah, she had a sex dream this morning,” Jungkook explains like it's the most normal thing in the world to talk about.

You don't dare look at Namjoon, instead, you smack your best friend's arm and hiss at him to shut the hell up.

“Uh...wow,” Yoongi says turning a shade of red to rival yours. You quickly take the lead and say goodbye to the boys as Jungkook follows you out, his laugh ringing in your ears.

You are about to lose your shit when you hear someone calling your name.

You turn around to see Namjoon standing by Yoongi's door holding out your purse. In the haste to leave you had forgotten to grab it and now you have to come face to face with the man who the sex dreams were about.

Lovely.

You walk over to him as Jungkook waits by the elevator.

“Thank you.” You say curtly, but before you can turn and go back to your best friend whom you are most definitely thinking of murdering, a strong hand stops you.

You stare up at him with a shocked expression on your face as he leans in closer to whisper to you.

“I know I have been busy, but I haven't forgotten. Hope you were dreaming of me.”

“Y/N Elevator is here let's go!” Jungkook calls down the hallway as you shake your head and make your way back to your best friend whom you are suddenly not thinking about murdering so much, in fact, you are thinking of thanking him.

The next time you hear from Namjoon it's at an ungodly hour.

3:12am to be exact

Your phone vibrating on your nightstand wakes you up and you struggle in the dark to reach for it, when you see the display you groan.

Why the hell was Jungkook calling you this early on a Tuesday morning?

You swiped the phone to answer the call and sat up in bed rubbing your eyes.

“Jungkook I swear to god this had better be good.” You threaten.

“Uh. Hey Y/N.” Came a voice that was not Jungkook's.

You pulled the phone from your ear to stare at the display, which still showed Jungkook's name.

“Uh, who the hell is this? And why do you have this phone?” You ask feeling dread pool in your stomach. What if Jungkook was injured? What if something serious happened?

“It's Namjoon.”

Oh.

It had been another week since the incident at Yoongi's studio. A whole month since the first Namjoon incident. Not that you were counting.

“Uh Hey Namjoon. Little late for a booty call isn't it?” You tease trying to calm your racing heart as you hear his low chuckle over the phone.

“It's not that. It's Jungkook. Can you come pick him up?” He asks as you flick on your bedside lamp casting your room in a warm glow.

“Is he okay?” You reply back trying to keep the worry from your voice.

“Yeah, he's fine. You know that song we were working on? Well, we finished it tonight. Yoongi and I decided to have a celebratory drink and well, Jungkook joined us. He's....um... he's kind of throwing up in Yoongi's trash can right now. Yoongi and I are going to crash here but we are not really supposed to drink on the job.” He explains as you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration and throw the covers off your legs.

“I'm so sorry I didn't know who else to call,” Namjoon explains as you search your room for some warmer clothes.

“It's fine Joon. I'll just put some clothes on and head over.” You sigh.

You hear him gasp over the phone and you freeze.

“You're naked?” He asks, voice dropping as you giggle.

“No. I mean I'm changing out of my pj's.” You explain gathering some sweatpants off the floor and tugging them over your bare legs.

“I-Okay yeah, that makes sense.” He replies as you giggle again. Hearing how flustered he sounds over the phone has your heart racing.

“But I wasn't wearing much before so I guess I should put some clothes on.” You tease as you reach for a sweater and hear him let out a low groan.

“Fuck Y/N You can't do this to me. I'm kinda drunk and I'm gonna get hard thinking about you.” He confesses.

You feel your stomach flip at his words.

“Think about me a lot Joon?” You flirt back as you throw a hat over your bedhead and grab your coat to put over your heavy sweater.

“Dream about me a lot?” He teases back which has arousal shoot through your body and you stand there with your mouth open in shock.

“Never said it was about you. I could have been dreaming about someone else.” You taunt trying to keep your voice even and not let him know how much this was affecting you.

“Hmm maybe. But I have a feeling you were dreaming about me. That's why you were so flustered when Jungkook mentioned it. Were you dreaming about my mouth, or maybe my fingers? Or my cock?” He asks voice dangerously low which has a whimper leaving your mouth.

“Thought so. Now drive safe!” He says before hanging up the phone and leaving you speechless.

The back parking lot was empty when you pulled in and you saw Namjoon standing in the doorway keeping a very sleepy, very drunk Jungkook upright.

You let out a sigh as you parked and opened your door to step out. You opened the passenger door and let Namjoon haul Jungkook inside.

His head lolled against the window as his breath fogged up the glass.

“He threw up everything he drank so he should be good. Sorry again about all this.” Namjoon says.

He looks so cute standing there in his over sized coat and a black hat.

“It's okay it's what friends do right?” You ask as you shove your hands in your pockets to ward off the chill.

“Yeah. Friends take care of each other when they are drunk huh?” He says with a cock of an eyebrow.

Before you can answer, he takes your hand softly and brings you to the backdoor, he opens it for you and as you both enter he pushes you roughly against the concrete wall and cages your body in.

“Joon!” You exclaim as he towers over you, throwing his hat off his head to reveal his messy hair.

“God I can't stop thinking about you.” He mutters as his lips come down to capture yours in a searing kiss.

Any cold you felt a minute ago seemed to leave your body the second his lips met yours. Your arms looped around his shoulders as he pressed his lips harder into yours. His hands were firm on your sides as you drank him in.

Your body was pushed flush into his and you abandoned your hands on his shoulders to card through his messy hair which made him moan into your mouth.

You took that opportunity to lick the seam of his lips with your tongue, which has more moans falling from his lips as well as yours.

You can feel his cock, hard against your thigh as you lick and nip at his lips, hands getting lost in his hair and body pressing harder into yours.

How long you stand there kissing you're not sure. His hands travel up and down your sides and even though every fiber of your being is crying out for him to do more, you slow the kissing down and pull away feeling your arousal pool in your panties.

Namjoon's lips are swollen and tinged red, his eyes are bright and he has never looked more beautiful under fluorescent lighting.

“Fuck.” He groans as he cards a hand through his hair and you sneak a look at your car to see Jungkook still sleeping peacefully, face pressed against the glass.

“I should go.” You say softly, hearing your voice sound rough from all the kissing. You are sure you look just as fucked out as he does.

“Wait! I did want to talk to you and then...well. I got carried away.” He admits with a shy smile, a dimple poking out and eyes shining.

“I wanted to reach out to you sooner. Really I did. But I didn't know how. I didn't want you to feel like I was only in it for one thing and well... I do like you. Like really like you. And then I got busy with work and I just...please. This Friday let me take you out on a date. Jungkook is going out with Taehyung to some restaurant they have been excited about. So no interruptions.” He teases with a knowing smile.

“Of course Namjoon. I'd love that.” You say as you slip your phone out of your coat pocket to get his number.

He inputs it with a giddy smile on his face and you both stare at each other, neither one of you wanting to say goodbye.

“I really should go. Jungkook might freeze out there.” You say as you push up on your tiptoes to give him a soft slow kiss.

When you pull away he is grinning and you can't help but grin back.

“Friday?” He confirms and you nod, moving away from him and back out into the cold.

“Friday.” You repeat as you make your way to your car and hop into the driver's seat.

“Y/N?” Comes a bleary voice and you turn to see Jungkook has one eye cracked open and is staring at you.

Your heart drops

Did he see?

“Hey, Kook. I'm going to bring you home okay?” You say as you start the car, turning up the heat and feeling guilty for leaving him like that.

“Yoongi and Joonie were mean to me. They made me drink soooo much and now I don't feel good.” He pouts as you bite back a smile and put your car into drive.

“I know bun let's get you home.” You say as you drive away, the memory of your kiss still fresh in your mind.

Friday.

You had been counting down the days and now it was finally here.

Namjoon had told you to meet him at his studio and you could both go to the Italian restaurant down the street.

You had decided to meet at six knowing very well Jungkook would be out with Taehyung and their reservation was at five at a restaurant across town.

You wanted to tell Jungkook about your date with Namjoon, you really did. He was your best friend and knew everything about you so it pained you not to say anything.

However, your priority was figuring out what was going on with Namjoon first. You wanted to get the first date under your belt before you involved your best friend.

You drove over to the studio and parked in the back lot where you had picked up a drunken Jungkook a couple nights prior.

You smoothed down your outfit which consisted of a dark green long-sleeved sweater dress and a pair of black tights and black boots.

You had swept your hair in a half-up-do and accessorized with gold jewelry.

You were relieved to see Namjoon standing at the same staircase and holding the door open for you as you jogged to get inside the warmth.

He looked so good in a beige sweater and dark dress pants. His hair is slicked back to show off his forehead.

“Hi. I just have to grab my things from my studio and we are good.” He says shooting you a grin as he takes your hand and leads you up the stairs to the elevator.

You enter and fight every urge in your body to not furiously make out with him as the elevator brings you to the sixteenth floor.

He pokes his head out to make sure the hallway is empty and guides you to his own studio which is two doors down from Yoongi's.

He punches in the code and you slip inside smiling when you take in your surroundings.

It's the same size as Yoongi's but while Yoongi's is mostly decorated in dark colors, Namjoon's is light and airy and so him it makes your heart swell.

“You like it?” He asks, voice low as he comes behind you to wrap his arms around your middle and rest his head on your shoulder.

“Yeah, it's very you.” You respond as you lean into his touch, taking in his spicy sweet scent.

You spin around and wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing him in for a kiss.

This kiss is slower and more controlled than the last fiery kiss you last shared. You take your time exploring his lips with your own and your hands run up and down his torso, feeling the muscles clench under your touch.

His hands come to support your neck as he kisses you deeper and you feel your body melt into his touch, he is so soft and gentle with you that it makes your heart soar.

You both take your time and as you move to get even closer to him you can feel his hardness press into your hip.

You grin against his lips as he mutters an apology.

“No need to apologize. I should return the favor, shouldn't I? I mean you were so good to me before... it's only fair.” You coo as his eyes widen and you run your hands down his chest and stomach, stopping right before the button on his pants, your eyes meet his in a silent question.

“Please.” He whines out as you grin and pop the button open.

You undo his zipper tantalizingly slow and precum is already staining the tip of his boxers as his cock seems to harden more under your gaze

You palm the head of his cock through the fabric as a pretty moan falls from his lips.

You want to hear that moan again and again so you add more pressure and watch his eyes flutter closed. He looks so pretty like this.

You reach your hand into his boxers and let out a high gasp when you circle his cock with your hand.

He is rock hard in your grip and the skin is so warm and soft. You use your thumb to spread the precum that is pooling at the tip and you spread it around the shaft.

“Fuck Y/N.” He grits out as you smile and continue to work him in agonizingly slow strokes. You want him to come apart in your hand like you did in his. You want to make him whine, beg and cry out like he did to you.

You begin to get a rhythm going and just as you flick your wrist over the tip of his cock you hear a knock at the door.

A persistent knock that has your hand freezing and Namjoon looking down at you in alarm.

“Fuck fuck fuck.” Namjoon hisses as you remove your hand and stare at him with fear written all over your face.

“Namjoonie! Taehyung ditched me!” Came a voice you knew all too well and you stared up at Namjoon in horror as Jungkook was standing right outside the door.

“How does he always know?!” Namjoon hissed in frustration as you fought back a giggle.

Jungkook kept knocking but Namjoon stayed frozen in spot pressing a finger to his lips to urge you to be quiet.

“Should we just...?” You ask as Namjoon shoots you a look.

“Absolutely not. He can stand out there all day.” Namjoon growls which has you giggling behind your hands.

Poor Namjoon standing there with his pants down, cock still rock hard beneath his boxers, and a scowl on his face.

The knocking continues as Jungkook whines outside the door about how Taehyung was supposed to hang out with him but said he wasn't feeling good so he ditched him.

Just as you were trying to muffle your giggles the phone on Namjoon's desk began to vibrate loudly.

Even though his studio was soundproof Namjoon sprung into action. He grabbed his pants, pulled them back up and nearly dove for the phone, turning off the vibration and shooting daggers at the door.

“He's persistent isn't he?” Namjoon asks as you both stand frozen waiting for poor Jungkook to get bored and leave.

Your saving grace comes in the form of Min Yoongi.

“Jungkook what are you doing?” He asks as you stare at Namjoon in shock at the absurdity of the whole situation.

“Yoongi! Tae ditched me because he's not feeling well and I'm really bummed. I wanted to hang out with Joonie but he's not answering his door or his phone!” Jungkook whines.

“Namjoon went home for the day Kook. He left hours ago.” Yoongi lies effortlessly as you both stare at each other.

“You said Tae wasn't feeling good? How about we go get him food and bring it to him yeah? We all can hang out?” Yoongi asks as you hear footsteps retreating from the door and you breathe out a sigh.

“What about Namjoon?” Jungkook replies as Namjoon's jaw ticks in annoyance and you fight to stifle your giggles.

“If he's not answering his phone he's probably busy. He can come next time Kook. When was the last time we three hung out together? Come on let's call Tae and let him know the plan.” Yoongi says.

You wait with bated breath until you hear their voices disappear down the hallway and when you hear the elevator ding you know they are finally gone.

Thank God for Min Yoongi.

“Holy shit,” you say as Namjoon runs a hand through his hair and fiddles with the buttons on his pants doing them back up.

“How does he always know? Seriously?” Namjoon sighs out as you laugh.

You straighten yourself out and so does Namjoon both of you still feeling anxious about almost being caught by Jungkook...again.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asks concern written all over his face.

“Yeah, I just... I feel bad for lying to him you know. He's my best friend. And even though this is the second time he has interrupted he means well.” You say feeling guilty.

Namjoon smiles softly down at you.

“I know I feel the same way. How about this? We take it slow and have this date and see what happens. If we feel like it's going to go somewhere we let the others know.” Namjoon explains.

You nod as he leans down to press the softest sweetest kiss to your cheek. It makes your heart flutter wildly.

“Now come on we have some really amazing food to eat.” He says grabbing his coat and looping his arm through yours

Dinner was great. The food was wonderful, the atmosphere was beautiful and the man sitting across from you made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

You couldn't ask for more.

By the time you made it out of the restaurant, the sun had already set and Namjoon's hand was in yours as you walked back to the studio and back to your car.

The air was bitingly cold and you snuggled your body into him and made your way down the busy street, the city starting to come alive as neon lights and street lights cast the city in a beautiful glow.

You finally made it to your car and Namjoon smiled down at you, his dimples popping out making you grin right back at him, your breaths mingling in the cold night air.

“What do you want to do Y/N?” He asks as he stands in front of you staring you down.

“Uh I mean I'd like to go out with you again if that's what you're asking.” You say feeling your cheeks heat up.

“That's not what I mean,” He says leaning forward to capture your lips in a kiss which has you arching up to meet him.

You don't think you'll ever get tired of kissing Namjoon.

“You know what I meant. And what I offered. I know I made you wait but the offer still stands, I can be a friend. Or a fuck? I'm here for whatever you need.” He mutters lowly against your ear which makes you shiver.

His teeth graze your earlobe and you feel arousal shoot down your spine and legs. You grip his coat to keep yourself steady and he chuckles darkly above you.

“What if I want both?” You challenge as you bite your lip and stare up at him.

“Greedy little thing huh? Lucky for you I can be very generous.” He purrs which has you throbbing and pressing your body into his.

“Please can we go? Please.” You whine out feeling too strung out and too desperate to wait any longer.

“Yours or mine?” He asks and you grab your keys from your purse and get in the car, he quickly follows suit.

“Anywhere I don't care.” You say as you put the keys in the ignition and stare him down.

“Mine it is,” Namjoon decides as you pull out of the parking lot and head towards his place.

You would like to think of yourself as a patient person. You would like to think you have self-control and that you can handle yourself as a grown-ass adult.

However, the second you pull into Namjoon's driveway you are almost running up to his door. His laugh is echoing behind you but you don't care as you stand there and wait for him to hurry the hell up.

“God any slower Joon?” You tease as he chuckles and unlocks the door, the warmth of the house inviting you in.

You shuck off your coat and watch as he does the same. You shift foot to foot as he takes his time putting everything back in its rightful place and you swear he is doing this on purpose.

“Joon.” You whine out as you watch him head to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“Yes?” He asks teasingly as he offers you a cup and you shake your head.

You stand there as he takes his sweet time in the kitchen, turning on lights, putting things away, and your not sure if you want to kiss him or smack him for making you wait.

“Joon I swear to god.” You complain as he turns around and leans against the counter grinning at you.

“Yes?” He repeats as you stand there under the lighting almost shaking with how aroused you are.

Even though he is acting like he is not affected you can see his cock tenting his dress pants and the way his cheeks are flushed.

You walk over to him and stand toe to toe with his towering frame. He is looking down at you with an amused expression which gets wiped from his face real quick when you cup his bulge over his pants.

“Impatient aren't we?” He teases as you push your palm into his cock harder which has his voice breaking and his eyes fluttering closed.

“Yeah well someone made me wait a whole month so sorry for not wanting to wait longer.” You growl out.

He whines above you when you undo the button and slide his pants down. He assists you by stepping out of them and right as you are about to reach for his boxers he surprises you by grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand away.

You look up at him with an annoyed expression but he quickly grabs your hips and lifts you up on the kitchen island.

The memory of last time comes to mind as you once again part your legs so he can stand between them.

He swoops in to kiss you and you run your hands through his hair, tugging on the ends making him groan against your mouth.

His hands travel the expanse of your body and you shift your hips as close to the edge as you can so you can feel the hot press of his cock against your throbbing core.

“Wanna touch you.” He mutters against your lips as you nod and he pushes your body down so you are laying flat against the island.

You stare at him in awe as he taps your leg signaling you to lift your hips so he can slide your leggings down your body.

His fingers trace your bare skin as you let out a shaky breath.

In one swoop he pulls you to the very edge of the island and grabs a bar stool. Confusion is written all over your face when he sits down and grabs your hips to pull you closer to him.

“Sit up let me take this dress off and see you.” He says as you nod and do as you are told. Namjoon's hands are warm against your skin as he pulls the dress over your head and flings it somewhere in the room.

His eyes roam your body and you instinctively cover your body with your hands, feeling insecure under his piercing gaze.

“Fuck you're perfect.” He groans as you see his hand disappear and palm at his hard cock still trapped against his boxers.

“Take your shirt off I wanna see you too.” You mumble, he complies as he peels his shirt off which now joins the pile of clothes on the floor.

God his body is so...wow.

His broad shoulders immediately catch your eye and you stare down at his wide chest and toned stomach. So much skin to mark up it makes your mouth water at the possibilities.

You lean forward to suck and nip at his newly exposed skin but his palm is large against your chest as he pushes you once again down on the island, the cold granite making your body shiver.

“You know the meal was fantastic but I've always been more of a desert guy.” He says running his

hands up and down your legs, taking his time exploring your body.

“We should have ordered desert then.” You say breathless as his hands keep inching higher to where your panties are, absolutely soaked with arousal and you are sure he can see that.

“This is my desert beautiful. I'm gonna make a meal out of your gorgeous pussy. Didn't have the chance to last time.” He growls as he dips his deft fingers into the band of your underwear and slowly pulls them down.

You arch your hips up to help him and sneak your hand around to undo your bra.

He gets up from his chair to eye your entire naked body, spread out on his island like an all-you-can-eat buffet.

You don't feel insecure anymore, in fact, you feel hot under his gaze as he takes you in, eyes trailing up and down your naked body, tongue darting out to lick at his lips.

“Joon.” You whine, which snaps him out of his daze as he once again grabs your hips and pulls you towards him.

His hands spread your legs and he throws them over his broad shoulders which has you moaning out as he brings his face dangerously close to your pussy.

His breath fans over your wetness and you shiver as you stare down at his narrowed eyes taking it all in.

This is a wet dream come true.

“This okay?” He whispers as the tension in the room intensifies and you feel like you are going to explode with how severe your pussy is throbbing.

“Please Joon fuck.” You whine out which makes him grin devilishly before he dives right in.

You have had someone eat you out before but never like this. His hands stay pinned to your hips keeping you down as his tongue circles your swollen clit. You cry out when he sucks on it adding enough force to make your eyes roll in the back of your head.

You grip the edge of the island as he licks, sucks and swipes his tongue along your slit gathering all the wetness and slurping it down.

The noises are obscene and you can feel a sheen of sweat break out on your body as his hands tighten on your hips as you try to raise them up to get more.

“Joon.” You beg out as your hands begin to hurt from how tightly you are gripping the island, feeling like you need something to anchor yourself to so you don't float away.

Your body is taught with pressure when he detaches his lips from your clit and his finger slips inside you with ease.

“God baby girl still so tight.” He growls as he works the finger in and out of you curling it at just the right angle to have you bucking up into his touch, desperate for more, desperate for him to make you cum.

“You gotta be good for me okay. I gotta stretch you out right.” He mutters as he adds another finger and your eyes roll in the back of your head. You feel the tight coil of an orgasm approaching and you try your best to hold out as long as you can.

He adds another finger and you hiss at the burn of three fingers buried inside you. He works you slower letting you adjust to them as his tongue comes down to join his fingers.

When his tongue sucks on your clit you arch your body up and let out an animalistic wine as he alternates between licking and sucking your clit and pumping his fingers inside of you.

“Come on baby girl. Let go for me.” He growls as he works you harder and you can feel the pleasure build and build deep in your core.

“Joon c-close fuck.” You cry out as he sucks and licks at you harder providing the right amount of pressure and curling his fingers just right which sends you flying over the edge.

You arch up and cry out his name as your walls flutter around his thick digits. You are panting and moaning as you ride out your high and he laps up everything you are giving him.

Your body finally gives up as you slump against the island and push your damp hair from your eyes.

You are pretty sure you just died and went to heaven.

Namjoon pushes the chair back as he slowly grabs your weak body off the island and carries you to his room.

You wrap your legs around him and can feel his hard cock bumping against your core as he walks over to lay you down on his king-sized bed.

The room looks the same as it did and the memory makes you smile as he crawls up on the bed next to you. Taking his phone out of his pants and checking it quick, frowning as he does so.

“What's up?” You ask as you peer up at him and he shakes his head and locks his phone, throwing it on the beside table.

“Just wanted to silence my phone so we don't get interrupted.” He says as you finally find the strength to sit up and push him down on the bed. You straddle his thick thighs and he stares up at you with lips parted and eyes blown wide.

“Your turn.” You tease as you situate yourself right over his aching bulge and press hot kisses to the column of his throat.

His hand knead your ass as he grinds you against him and you suck and nip at the skin on his neck and shoulders.

“Y/N.” He whines out as you run your fingernails down his chest and continue to grind on his cock, letting your arousal soak the material of his boxers.

You hum in reply as he throws his head back giving you more access to his neck.

“Y/N fuck. I don't want to ruin this or anything but can I be inside you. Please.” He whines as you pull away and stare at him.

How his pupils are blown wide, how his his lips are bruised from all the kissing, and how his cheeks are flushed with the prettiest red blush.

“What if I want to suck you off?” You ask with a tilt of your head and you let out a soft laugh when you feel his cock twitch against you.

“Fuck. I'd love nothing more than that. I'm going to be honest, I want to cum inside your pussy not on your face or in your mouth and I'm scared if you suck me off I won't last.” He admits blushing harder as you grin and nod.

You move your body off him so he can reach into his nightstand to grab a condom and flick on the bedside light.

You watch as he hooks his hands in the waistband of his boxers and pulls them down, his hard cock springing free and smacking against his stomach.

Your jaw drops. Sure you had felt him in your hand and knew he felt big, but actually seeing it was a different story.

His cock was thick with a vein running along the underside of it. The head was flushed a pretty red color and precum was oozing out the tip and sliding down the shaft.

You couldn't help yourself as you leaned down to lick at the precum. A groan burst from Namjoon's lips when you made a connection with the hot silky skin of his cock.

“Fuck Y/N you-you can't I'll cum.” He warns as you lick him and suck on the head, making eye contact with him which has him groaning above you

Your lips pop off the head of his cock with a satisfying pop and he wastes no time tearing open the condom and rolling it down his length.

You have dreamed of this moment and waited for this moment but now that it is finally here you feel nervous.

You leaned back on your knees and bit your lip trying not to let the worries overtake you.

“Hey. I got you. It will be okay.” Namjoon whispers as your eyes snap back to his and he runs his hands through your hair to cup the back of your head.

His lips connect with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. You climb up on his lap and wrap your arms around his shoulders as his cock bumps against your core.

“Nothing to be worried about. I got you. We will go slow.” He mumbles against your lips as you nod.

“I want you to feel good. If it hurts we stop, or we slow down.” He explains as you grab the base of his cock and line it up with your core.

The second you sink down on his cock you can already feel the stretch and burn.

You bury your face in his shoulder and whimper as his cock head slips inside.

Namjoon takes his time with you, he rubs your back and whispers sweet nothings in your ear as you sink down on him slower.

His cock is tight inside of your body and when you finally reach the hilt you let out a shaky breath you had not realized you were holding.

You look down and gasp as you see where your bodies are connected. His hands come up to push your hair out of your face and you stare into his eyes.

“I got you. How do you feel baby girl?” He asks with concern written all over his face.

“Full. So fucking full.” You sigh out leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder as his arms circle around you to hold you steady.

“You are so tight Y/N. Fuck I wanna fuck into you so bad. You have no idea how good you feel stuffed with my cock.” He growls as you feel the pain start to subside and get replaced with unexplained pleasure.

“Joon please.” You whine out as he runs his hands up and down your back.

“Please what? What does my baby need?” He asks voice strained from holding back.

“Keep talking. Please.” You whine out eyes closed waiting for the stretch to subside.

“Fuck baby you don't know how long I have wanted to do this. If we didn't get interrupted last time I would have been balls deep buried inside you like I am now. And you would have taken me like such a good girl, wouldn't you? You would have cum again on my tongue because tasting you off my fingers was not enough. Shit, I was so fucking hard when Jungkook was making you breakfast. Thought about kicking his ass out and dragging you to my room and not letting you leave until you were properly fucked.”

You moan and shake above him at his words which only spurs him on more.

“God I couldn't stop thinking about you. And that day at the studio to know you had a wet dream about me. Fuck I was so hard in my sweatpants I'm surprised you didn't notice.” He continues on.

“Joon please.” You cry out.

“Please what baby? Use your words.” He demands as he delivers a soft spank to your ass.

“Move-Please Joon fuck-fuck me Joon.” You cry out as you pull yourself from his chest and stare at his expression.

He grins wickedly at you as you move your hips against his, grinding yourself on his cock as you slowly move up and down trying to get used to the feeling of being so full.

“Want me to take over baby?” He asks as your movements are sloppy and desperate.

You nod and in a flash, he flips you over so you are on your back and he is hovering over you, eyes wide and a smirk on his face as he slowly inches out of you before slamming back in.

Broken moans leave your lips as he rams into you, his cock hitting that spot inside of you each time that makes you see stars and claw at the skin on his back.

He growls in your ear when you shoot your hips up to meet his thrust and you both are whining and groaning as you chase your high.

He holds himself up on strong arms as he rams into you with such force you are moving up and down the bed. You grip his biceps and cry out when he captures your lips in a searing kiss, muting your whimpers and moans.

His thrusts get deeper and more erratic as you can feel yourself slowly tipping over the edge. You hook your legs around his waist to bring him closer and you arch your back to get him to thrust deeper inside of you.

“Y/N c-close fuck.” He cries out as his thrusts become more erratic which sends you over the edge.

You cum hard against him, chest arching up to brush against his as your walls clamp down on his cock and milk him as he continues to fuck into you with an intensity that almost sends your head right through the headboard.

“Please Joon cum inside me. P-Please.” You cry out as you grip his back and keep him pinned to you as he pumps into you a couple more times before burying his face in your neck and cuming hard, swearing loudly as he does so.

You let him ride out his high, your hands clawing at his back as his cock twitches deep inside of you.

He pulls out slowly and rolls on his back, tying up the condom and throwing it in the garbage as you both stare at the ceiling and try to catch your breath.

Namjoon stands up to crack open the window to rid the room of the smell of sex and you roll over to let the breeze hit your face.

You feel so good. So thoroughly fucked out you hardly notice him leave the room and come back with a glass of water for each of you and a soft towel to clean you up.

He hands you the water and takes his time between your legs wiping you down with the towel. He throws it somewhere in the room and reaches for his boxers on the floor and drags them up his legs.

“Wow.” You breathe out after a sip of water as you place it on his nightstand and let the air from the window cool your damp skin.

“Wow is right.” Namjoon echos as he climbs into bed and cuddles you in his arms, pressing his chin against the top of your head and wrapping his arms around you.

“That was...” You taper off not sure what to say. You are swimming in bliss and never ever want to leave.

“Yeah. I feel the same.” He mutters above you as you pull away to stare at him.

His hair is falling over his forehead and he is smiling down at you in adoration. You grab his hands to lace them through yours as you rest your head on his bare chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

After some time Namjoon lightly pushes you off his chest and you look up at him.

“I want to take you out again. Can I? Sometime this week?” He asks timidly as you smile and answer him with a kiss.

“Of course Joonie. I'm yours.” You tell him.

He looks at you with such a soft smile on his face it makes your heart flutter.

“Though I think I'm going to have to tell Jungkook. I can't keep this from him for forever.” You admit as you rest your head on Namjoon's shoulder.

“Yeah, I think it's time. Plus Yoongi kind of already knows.” Namjoon confirms which has you sitting upright in an instant and staring at him in shock.

“What do you mean he knows! He doesn't know.” You reply anxiously.

“Um yeah, he knows. Remember when I check my phone after...yeah. He texted me saying I owed him for distracting Jungkook tonight so we could go on our date. He also said about time so I guess he saw this coming.” Namjoon teases as you blush bright red.

“Please tell me he won't tell Jungkook.” You plead feeling guilt pool in your stomach.

“Nah Yoongi is good about that,” Namjoon confirms as his hands come up to smooth at the worry lines between your eyebrows.

“It will be okay. I promise.” Namjoon assures you with another kiss as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean into it, savoring the feeling of his lips on yours and the perfect moment you created together.

The day has come to finally tell Jungkook and the coffee shop is packed as you grab your food and navigate all the tables to find one that is empty.

You follow Jungkook's back as he leads the way, finding an empty table in the back for you both to share.

You reached out saying you were craving the little cakes and pastries this specific coffee shop sold and Jungkook was more than happy to come along.

You opted for tea instead of coffee this time, knowing coffee would do you no good in this situation.

It had only been three days since your date with Namjoon but you had another one planned for tomorrow. Namjoon knew you were going to tell Jungkook today and he provided you with encouraging texts all morning.

You both sat down and you pulled your teacup towards yourself as Jungkook dug into the desert letting his coffee cool a bit before drinking.

“I feel like I haven't seen you in forever I'm glad we could find time to hang out today.” He says mouth full of whatever pastry he grabbed.

“Yeah me too. Kook, I wanna talk to you about something.” You start, feeling anxiety flutter through your body as he stops eating to stare at you.

“It's about...a date I had three days ago.” You say, rubbing your sweaty hands on your pants and trying to force the words out.

“With Namjoon yeah?” He says, hardly bothered as you nearly spill your tea down the front of your shirt.

“Um, what?” You say in shock as he grins and takes another massive bite of the pastry smearing his lips with chocolate.

“What about it?” He asks sounding not at all bothered.

“You know?! How do you know? Yoongi? Did he say?” You sputter pushing your tea away worried you would spill it on yourself in shock.

“Nah Yoongi didn't tell me. But when I come home from the gym and you are moaning Namjoon's name on my couch I put the pieces together. I mean come on Y/N. You got drunk, he took you home and when I came over you both looked like little kids getting caught doing something they weren't supposed to.” He explains as your eyes grow wide.

“I had a feeling something happened but I dropped it because maybe I was wrong. But then you had that sex dream about him. I just happened to walk in while you were moaning his name and I knew. Why do you think I brought it up at the studio? Someone had to get the ball rolling.”

You stayed glued in your chair as he continued to explain.

“Then when you came to pick me up drunk I mean I saw you guys making out. I was drunk but not blind.” He says shoving more food in his mouth and grinning at you as if this whole thing was so incredibly obvious.

“As for your date, I had no idea. Honest. But when Yoongi grabbed me and practically forced me away from bugging Namjoon I had a feeling. And Yoongi wants to hang with Tae and I...alone? Not a chance. I figured he was covering for Namjoon. And you. So I played it up to get a free meal from him. Should thank you for that one.” Jungkook teases as he leans back and sips his coffee eyes never leaving your shocked face.

“So you knew the entire time?” You finally say feeling your stomach turn.

“I mean I didn't know till the sex dream but I had a feeling. He would always stare at you when you weren't looking. I don't know how you didn't notice because almost everyone else did.”

You blushed furiously as you wrapped your hands around your warm cup of tea.

“So did the date go well? Or was he horrible? Is that what you wanted to tell me?” Jungkook asks.

“I...you knew? And you're not...I dunno mad?” You ask him.

“Why would I be? Namjoon is a great guy and you're my best friend. Why would I be mad? I got Yoongi to order both Tae and I expensive food. I'm ecstatic” Jungkook teases as you reach across the table to smack his arm.

“But if you want to keep pretending I don't know I wouldn't mind getting more food.” He teases you again as you swat his arm and smile.

“You are such a weirdo Jeon Jungkook.” You say as you sip your tea and the atmosphere seems to lighten.

“So when I came banging on the door did I interrupt anything.” He asks with a wiggle of his eyebrows which has you blushing and swatting at his arm again

“I'm not answering that.” You respond as Jungkook dissolves in a fit of giggles.

“One last question and you have to answer this one then I'll drop it.” He says after his giggle fit.

“Depends what it is.” You shoot back falling into your teasing each other rhythm once again.

“Does he make you happy?” Jungkook asks, voice suddenly serious.

You smile.

“Yes, he does. Very happy.” You confirm as you reach for a pastry on the table.

“Good.” He says as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket and you take it out to see Namjoon messaged you.

“So I can't interrupt your date but he can interrupt our hangout. That's not fair.” Jungkook pouts as you text Namjoon to let him know it went well and you will explain the whole thing later.

“Okay okay, my phones away.” You say as you shove it in your pocket and grin.

[undiscovered-horizon]

"Little Sun" - Nikolai Lantsov x Reader

[This is a work of fiction. Slapping your partner is physical abuse.]

SUMMARY: Nikolai left Ravka to gather whatever aid he can get for his home but he comes back because he promised you.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.2k

Apparently, Коля [Kolya] is short for Nikolai and it's the cutest thing I've heard in my life. Also, let me know if you're fine with just Cyrillic or do you want me to include Latinized spelling in the future.

>>Grishaverse-inspired playlist<<

Tolya and Tamar have a bet. Not a very dramatic piece of information if one knows a thing or two about the siblings. But it’s the nature of the bet, not its sole existence, that’s so interesting - it’s their longest unresolved wager:

The whole thing started when they noticed Sturmhond saying “Солнышко would love this” to himself. Most of the time it’s a whisper, a stray thought that somehow wriggled free out of his mind at a sight of a sunset, a panorama of a city or a treasure his crew found - if something is worth appreciation, the enigmatic “Солнышко” would surely want to see it. Judging by the softness with which the captain says those words, Tolya and Tamar are disillusioned that “солнышко” is merely a term of endearment for someone close to Sturmhond’s heart. What directly sparked their bet was whether this hopeless love is returned. Tolya, probably biased by the poetry he so eagerly reads, was convinced that they were witnessing a dramatic love story of a princess and a sea dog or something along those lines. Tamar, however, remained more cynical in her judgement - whoever the lady is, she probably doesn’t spare the privateer much thought, if she’s even aware of his existence. Little did they know, the answer awaited them on the other side of the Fold.

The sanctuary is never quiet nor is it ever boring. Although its population doesn’t impress, the determined freedom fighters rarely catch a break, keeping the beehive constantly buzzing. People coming to and fro, the noise of neverending chatter, footsteps echoing through the grand halls and in the middle - you, one responsibility away from completely losing your mind.

You’re doing your rounds, utilising the march between ‘checkpoints’ to talk with Dima, a quite hyperactive Fabrikator, about his new project. It looks promising but you’ve learned to expect nothing less from the boy. He’s tripping over his feet because his gaze is boring into you, looking for any sign of approval or disapproval, and not the tiles in front of him. 

The parchment rustles as you look through the blueprints. “That’s a lot of iron…” you say quietly. Pondering the schematic, you habitually rub your jaw. “If First Army is to use this on the battlefield, it needs to be lighter, so fewer soldiers have to man it. Some parts ought to be substituted with wood. Maybe these two?” You point to fairly small elements on the blueprint, which look to be part of the traction mechanism. Dima conceptualized a machine built on impressively complicated, codependent systems - one change is going to influence all the other parts, which in turn will circle back to the substitute and put a different strain on it.

Dima gasps. "My lady,” his voice is quiet, breathy.

Suddenly, the boy stops but you don’t think much about it. You stand beside him, still eyeing the blueprint in search of ways to save the more scarce resources without endangering the quality of the firearm. 

“I know it’s going to be difficult, Dima,” you forestall his complaint. “We also don’t want this whole thing to shatter after firing the first round but there’s only so much-.”

"My lady, he's back,” he interrupts you.

You look up at Dima with furrowed eyebrows. But the boy doesn’t meet your eye - instead, he’s looking away towards something, or someone, by the entrance to the sanctuary; a haunted glint hiding in his pupils. Confused, you follow his gaze to the door, only to feel your heart stop for a moment:

The blond hair, the elegant kaftan with aiglets and the insufferable, juvenile confidence written on his face.

"Мой Коля,” you say barely above a whisper. The world smudges and blurs as tears fill your eyes.

Not having much care about the stoic image you’re supposed to maintain, you shove the schematics back into Dima’s hands (he nearly drops them) and rush to the ghost who’s been haunting your thoughts for far too long, pushing through people standing in your path.

The phantom becomes flesh and bones only when you feel his arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly to himself. The scent of seaweed and resin lingers on his clothes as though he was born a sea dog and became a prince by sheer coincidence. You hear Nikolai take in a deep breath, his nose buried in your hair. This feels almost too good to be true but good enough to be a cruel joke.

A minute or two passes by and even then it’s difficult for you to lean away to look at his face - Nikolai seems absolutely unwilling at letting you go again anytime soon. Literally and figuratively.

"I was beginning to lose hope," you say quietly. Although his eyes remain just as mischievous as they usually are, a hint of softness hides inside them.

"You know me, солнышко,” he says with a grin on his face. The pet name makes your chest both tighten and burst with passion you have nearly forgotten. After a long period of emptiness and coldness, this scorching devotion is burning you alive. “I promised you I'd come back."

Only when his warm hand reaches to wipe away your tears do you realize you’ve been crying all this time. Even if you tried, there’s no way of stopping this - all of the nights you’d spent worrying and all the days you’d been yearning for him, they finally find their outlet in this longed-for reunion. You’ve imagined his tragic death so many times, you can hardly believe all of that was just an atrocity of your mind.

“Please, stop crying,” Nikolai whispers while relentlessly wiping your face, “or I’m going to cry too and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of our guests.”

A chuckle of both disbelief and overwhelming relief escapes your lips. Even now, at such a heartfelt moment, he can’t help his humour but Saints’ did you miss it.

You sniffle. Absentmindedly, your fingers trace the smooth material of his kaftan. Not a cut or a burn on this textile, as though it beared to witness to combat. "You’ve been gone for so long, I don't know if I should kiss or slap you."

He gives you a playful, questioning look. "Can I choose?"

"Not a chance."

Nikolai gasps when he feels your hand against his face. The strength of the slap was nowhere near to the punch Alina threw at him not too long ago but considering who you are, it aches incomparably more. To a degree, he understands that he might, after all, deserve some of your anger. Aside from the misguided, love-fueled belief you’ve always had in him, you had virtually no reason to think he’s alive, mourning him each time you lay in bed alone - until now.

He doesn’t have a chance to form a response to your outburst as you grab both sides of his face and clash your lips against his. That’s something Nikolai can condone and he does so with a nearly obscene lack of hesitation or reluctance. His arms hold your waist in a tight embrace. The saltwater on his skin tastes like insufferable youth and fabulous adventures. For a moment, you let yourself forget about the pending civil war, thinking only about the warm, soft lips you’ve missed so dearly. Your Коля came back to you, so everything is perfectly fine.

At the same time, Tolya turns to look at his sister with a proud grin. “Told you,” he says nudging her arm but Tamar only scoffs and shakes her head.

[dead-sane-stuff]

Knock knock, let your new big brother in.

Chapter Warning: , anxiety ( reader is about 12-14 ) , and language

Summary: New to the manor and the real world, (Y/N) meets a tall stranger with a some white strands of hair.

Part 1

________

'This place is big' (Y/n) thinks. Oh wait not big. HUGE. Their heart beats rapidly just thinking of getting lost in this place. Even though this place is a Total upgrade from a bunker underground with nothing to do but sketch on the walls , it's scary. The bright lights from the glass candles make (Y/n) want to pass out. The long walking space makes them dizzy and standing at the top of the 'stairs' make their heart beat like scary fast.

It's scary to even look down from the top of the 'stairs'. The bunker didn't have stairs. Or bright lights, or big spaces with 'doors' big spaces away from each other. This is all new to (Y/n) and they're trying to adapt to a world they weren't sure was a thing untill like not to long ago.

It's was honestly a surprise to (Y/n) when someone wanted to 'adopt' them. They new nothing about the real world for one, they have never been to school, heck! , They didn't even know that many words!!!

If that wasn't enough, they stayed with a bad man for a week because they told (Y/N) they could 'trust' them. (Y/n) really needed a dictionary. And reading classes because they believed them. In that week (Y/n) ended up shooting 3 men in the red and blue machine. Yeah probably not (Y/n)s best moment. But at least they didn't stop breathing!!

Now it's dark and (Y/n) is still awake for specific reasons and is now thirsty. They debate drinking out of the sink faucet like last time but Mr Wayne's Butler (Alfred?) caught them and scolded them to drink the water out of a cup? " What's a cup?" (Y/n) question aloud. Then Alfred widened his eyes and guided them to the table gave them a plastic thing with the water in it and gave them a square this with scribbles in it. But alas, (Y/n) couldn't read.

So (Y/n) decided to get out of their bed and go down to the faucet in the 'kitchen' and get a 'cup' and pour themselves some water.

It's was dark so they didn't have to stare up as they walked down the steps. Though as dark as it was, walking down and up stairs were harder then a ladder in the dark so (Y/n) almost missed the first stair.

They walked down into the kitchen and turned the faucet on and grabbed a cup to get some water , poured it under the water and it filled it untill it was enough and put it to their "lower breather" (mouth) to drink. But when it goes in it burns. BAD

They scream and drop the cup.

And it breaks.

On their feet.

And they scream.

Even louder

(Y/n) tries to back up but the pain in their foot hurts too much they slip in the hot water and land on their butt with their feet lying in hot blood and even hotter water

Apparently (Y/n) wasn't the only one on that floor because someone else speaks which makes the scoot back into the wall

__

If Jason was correct no one should be at this shit house beside Alfred.

Dickhead was at Bluvhaven, Big Bat was out for patrol, replacement was with Duke visiting family, cass was In Hong Kong since he doesn't remember, and the demon spawn was with the titans....or superboy.. or his mother till next week.

He doesn't know honestly. He wasn't paying attention. But he knows this manor should be almost empty.

That's kinda the whole reason he's even here.

Good thing he snatched the Demon's spare keys to the door while he wasn't in the room. Bad things is next week he'll probably get stabbed. He's willing to take that chance.

He unlocks the door and walks in .

Lights off . Check ,

Alfred's apron folded neatly on the couch. Also check.

Jason walks over to the couch plops down and relaxes. He releases a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

Now Jason didn't wanna fall asleep right on the comfortable couch for various reasons. But he did anyway.

It's about an hour later when he jolts up mentally cursing to himself for falling asleep on the couch. He should really go to sleep in of the many guest rooms so Bruce doesn't bitch at him when he gets back. But he's to relaxed so he drifts off again.

He's about to go off to Dreamland when he hears someone scream and glass shattering. Fuck.

Get quickly but quietly gets up. Luckily he just got back from his own patrol so he's got his baby's still loaded and on his. He grabs one of his guns, cocks it and makes his way to the kitchen and stops by the doorway. God fucking damnit. Hes pretty sure he locked the door thank fuck. How'd they get over the gate. Plus the over the top security.

Jason sighs annoyed at being woken up for this shit "look, I don't know who the hells out there , but I better hear your footsteps leave or so help me this bullets gotta be in your brain fast , the flash is gonna be jealous of it. Jason shouts.

No response. "Fine" he grumbles "have it your way" he enter the kitchen. right away he spots glass. He smirks

He walks in the kitchen and points his gun "GOTCHA" he shouts. What he sees almost makes him pass out.

That phony 'criminal' break in just happens to be some fucking little kid , feet covered in blood and water that must have accidentally broken ..... A glass cup, staring back at Jason like he just put the fear of God into him.

"Fuck." Jason mutters

He is so screwed

Wadiya think should I do part two 😏🕺

[ventismacchiato]

27 just playing the part — falling for ya, literally !

scaramouche x g!n reader

It’s already dark when you all set foot into the carnival, yet it’s still noisy and alive. It’s magical how a parking lot in the fall can be transformed into summer at a Coney Island. The cotton candy machines on every corner, kids with caramel stuck on their cheeks, and the smell of burnt popcorn wafting through the air. It was wonderful. It was romantic. Much better than the sports game.

By the time you can look around and ask what everyone feels up to do they’re already off in pairs. You look to your left to see Scaramouche, who was looking up at the rides the carnival had to offer before turning to you.

“Cant believe I’m stuck with you, again,” he grumbles, grabbing ahold of your elbow and leading you through the crowd.

You hold up your handful of tickets, “I guess we have to use these together.”

You both ride everything. There’s a Ferris wheel and a carousel and bumper cars, where Scaramouche annihilates the court, and flying swings and a mirror maze. The two of you even fold your legs up into the baby train and ride that, too. In between you get a stick of cotton candy, taking turns tugging on it with your teeth. He doesn’t let you pay for anything.

Finally, you reach the looming roller coaster the two of you had been eyeing the entire night, waiting for the lines to shorten and for your stomach to not betray you.

A group of girls let you both cut in line, giggling behind their palms at Scaramouche. The boy handling the tickets stutters his way through handling your tickets and locking you both into the ride, face tomato red when Scaramouche thanks him.

You glance around as the ticket boy checks on everyone’s seats, mentally counting how many people have been all over Scaramouche. You never gave it much thought on how he was one of your university’s most desired men. You now started to understand why.

The rollercoaster starts with a jerk that thankfully snaps you out of your trance. You focus your attention on Scaramouche’s demeanor, his arm draped across the back of the cart you were in, right behind your back, looking around as the ride climbed up a hill slowly. The wheels clinking and creaking with each track. When you round out at the top, right on the edge of the first drop, you spare a glance at Scaramouche who holds a small smile on his face as he takes in the sight of the park around them. His eyes masking his inner child. The carts begin to dip downward at the same moment your eyes meet Scaramouche’s.

You aren’t sure who starts to fall first.

just playing the part !

masterlist — prev | next

‘You aren’t sure who starts to fall first.’ do you guys get the double meaning 🤭 cus they’re on a roller coaster so sexy of my brain omg

synopsis: you and scaramouche are both drama majors and have been at each other’s throats vying for the same lead roles since high school. but when you’re both cast as each other’s love interest in your second year you’re forced to be civil with your academic rival and see him in a new light. are his feelings for you true or is he just playing the part?

taglist—CLOSED: @monochromaticelliot @kaedear @stxrgxzxr @shirmxie @elakari @lacy-lady @linn-a-a @one-offmind @kithewanderingme @quepasoash @leathernourishingshoepolish @mangobee @lxry-chxn @dameofthorns @scarasaver @kythe1a @elysiasbae @hikaru-exe @tokkishouse @raiihoshii @cherrybeomgyu @kunikuzushiit @thenightsflower @lilneps @goodthingimsam @lovelyiez @euhla @beriiov @abvolat @kittycasie @b0bafl0wer @bubblyclouds @atlatcaheart @artssleepy @baelloraa @tartagli-yuh @satowaluverr @hangesextra @scaranaris-lil-niko @caffinatedcoma @wheneverthesunrise @hajimeseyo @itsyourgirlria @hyunrei @redactedhimbo @caliginous-skies @vinskyspuff @miissfortune @criminalinthemaking @scaramouches-girlfriend @scrmgf [1/3]

author’s notes: the victorious soundtrack came on while i was writing this 🎶 freak the freak out 🎶

[callalillywrites]

His Scarred Omega Part 5

Part 4 / Series Masterlist

Relationship: Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Word Count: ~2450

Summary: Bucky continues to show Omega how much he's in this for the long haul for his daughter and for her.

Warnings: Bucky Barnes (he's a warning), insecure/sad Omega, nothing too dramatic in this part

A/N: I wrote this story really fast as I mentioned above. It’s proofread but all mistakes are my own.

I also do not give permission for my work to be copied or posted on other sites or fed into an AI machine.

*****

Hearing Gracie call Bucky ‘Daddy’ creates a riot of feelings in Omega.

Experiencing Bucky’s reaction to Gracie’s new title for him puts Omega in a whole other riot of emotions. The connection between them isn’t necessarily welcome at this point in time, but she’s helpless to close it off.

She certainly doesn’t expect his free hand to reach out for her and tug her close to his side as they make their way to his truck.

“Thank you, Precious.”

“For what?”

“For coming back into my life. For showing me everything I was missing.”

His sweet words should be creating butterflies in her belly, not causing her heart to squeeze so tight it might actually burst in her chest.

The moment she’s been dreading has finally come.

Gracie acknowledging Bucky as her dad is probably what Bucky’s been waiting for these past few weeks. He now has what he needs to get the custody he wants while putting Omega aside.

She just wishes she had a little longer with them both. She’s not ready to be cast aside again.

Bucky’s hand tightens around hers when they reach his truck. His mouth curves into a slight frown as his gaze turns her way fully.

Not wanting to talk about it, she gives him a brief smile, or as close as she can get to one, then hops into the front seat, leaving him to put Gracie in the back seat and buckle her up. She knows that Bucky can handle it as he’s been handling it just fine when he’s picked them up on the weekends and spends the days with them.

When he finally climbs into the driver’s seat, he doesn’t immediately start his truck. Instead, he turns towards her again and takes her hand in his.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Precious?”

She knows he can feel everything just as she can feel it. That blasted connection between them has made sure of that.

Yet, she can’t bring herself to voice her fears, not after the lovely evening with his friends.

“I’m just tired. That’s all.”

He doesn’t believe her.

She can see it in the way his jaw ticks and he fights with himself about saying something. He finally starts his truck but not before bringing her hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

The drive to his place doesn’t take too long.

When he parks the truck in the driveway, he tugs the keys from the ignition and hands them to her. “Go ahead and get inside. I’ll grab Gracie and be right behind you.”

Omega doesn’t argue.

The real battle is sure to come, and she would rather save her energy for it. If Bucky thinks he’s going to push her aside, then he can think again.

Bucky, true to his word, comes inside right after her with Gracie cradled in his arms. This time, he’s carrying her like a princess as opposed to earlier, which really only makes him that much more endearing.

He nods towards his guest room where she follows. In the room, she finds a folded nightgown already resting at the foot of the bed. Beside it, she also finds he’s gotten Gracie a new fuzzy blanket and a stuffy even though Gracie’s proclaimed herself too old for them. The stuffy is a cute pink cat with large purple eyes.

“I’ll let you help her change. There’s a spare toothbrush and everything else she might need in the bathroom next door.”

When he moves, Gracie stops him with her sleepy voice. “Will you read to me, Daddy?”

“I’d be happy to, my sweet girl.”

The grin on his face is enough to make Omega turn away. His happiness wraps around her and threatens to smother her as she fights against their connection.

To distract herself, Omega asks, “Did you bring a book, Gracie?”

Gracie shakes her head, a look of deep sadness creeping over her exhausted features.

Bucky’s happiness evaporates and transforms into panic at the swift shift. He dashes from the room and returns as Omega finishes getting the nightgown on that Bucky bought Gracie. In his hands, he’s holding a book with a small bow on it.

“I was saving this for when I saw you next weekend, but now’s as good a time as any to start reading this,” he says, holding up the latest in the fantasy series Gracie’s really gotten into the past year.

Gracie’s eyes light up.

Omega has to remind Gracie to finish her night routine before Bucky can read to her.

Gracie doesn’t need to be told twice as she races off with renewed energy to get through brushing her teeth and washing her face. Oh, to have the stamina of childhood all over again.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let you read to her. Would you like something to drink or…”

Bucky shakes his head. “I’m good, Precious. I have everything I need right here.”

When she moves to leave the room, Bucky stops her with a hand to her arm. He doesn’t speak until she meets his gaze.

“I have some stuff for you in my room if you’d like to change and get yourself ready for bed. We had a lot of excitement today, and I know you’ve had a long week at work. There’s a large garden tub in the bathroom if you’d like to take a long, hot bath as well.”

Gracie comes racing back in and dives onto the bed. She pats the space beside her.

“I’m ready, Dad.”

Bucky grins. “I can see that, sweet girl. How about we get through the first chapter, then it’s lights out, okay?”

Omega stands in the doorway and watches them for a few minutes.

Bucky settles next to Gracie on the bed where Gracie quickly tucks herself into his side while he opens the book and begins reading. His deep voice immediately settles Gracie at his side as she listens in complete rapture.

Omega can’t blame her niece for such a reaction. It’s one that Omega can see herself doing if Bucky ever gave her the same attention and devotion.

That thought is what pulls her out of her trance and makes her leave the room.

She heads toward the closed door she assumes leads to Bucky’s room and soon finds herself proven right.

Like the guest room, she finds a new set of pjs waiting for her. A comfy tank with a cutesy saying written across with matching capris. Fuzzy socks to cover her feet complete the ensemble.

When she picks them up, she realizes they’re her exact size, making her wonder how Bucky could’ve possibly known.

It doesn’t stop her from picking them up and heading towards his bathroom. The promise of a long, hot bath is too much to ignore. Her tiny apartment has a traditional tub/shower combo and is rather small compared to what she finds waiting in Bucky’s bathroom.

She grins when she sees the jets sitting in the tub, wondering why he might’ve forgotten to mention them.

A gift basket sits on the counter near the tub with a matching bow to the one on Gracie’s new book. It contains a new loofah as well as some of her favorite bath products, another surprising piece of information she didn’t know he had about her.

If this is going to be one of her last interactions with Bucky, she figures she might as well enjoy it.

Omega makes quick work of filling the tub with hot water and some of the bubbles and bath salts from the gift basket. She tosses the loofah into the tub before seeking out a fluffy towel to dry herself off after she’s soaked for a little while. She doesn’t count on finding a bath pillow waiting on top of the towels in the small linen closet.

Her bath is everything she’s been hoping it would be and more as she relaxes into the bubbling water minutes later. It’s a wonder she doesn’t fall asleep as she lets the jets do their magic against her tired muscles. The bath pillow gives her enough cushion to fully relax in the oversized tub.

When she finally emerges from his bathroom some thirty or so minutes later in her new pjs and with her teeth brushed, she finds Bucky setting up a bed on his sofa.

“Oh, I can do that. Please, don’t put yourself out more than you already have.”

“I’ve got it, Precious. Relax.”

“Bucky, I can make my own bed up. I’m not completely helpless.”

That gets his attention. His frown comes back, too, as he watches her. His jaw ticks before he finally blows out his breath and resumes working on straightening the sheets and blankets he’s brought out.

“I know you’re not helpless, Precious. I’ve never thought that about you. You’re one of the most capable people I know. This bed isn’t for you though. It’s for me. You’re taking my bed tonight.”

“No, Bucky, I—”

He holds up his hand and shakes his head. “Yes, you can. You will. I meant what I said about spoiling both you and Gracie.”

Omega doesn’t know how to answer that or if she even wants to.

As cruel as this is for her, she doesn’t want it to end. She wants to enjoy everything he’s being nice to do for her. She wants to believe she’s worthy of this alpha and the doting he’s been doing since they bumped into each other.

To help regain her balance and remind herself this is temporary, she says, “You said you wanted to show me something. Does it have something to do with Gracie?”

His smile comes back, softer than she’s ever seen it. He nods and pulls out his phone. A few swipes and he’s handing it over to her.

“What do you think? It’s not on the market just yet, but I’ve been thinking about an upgrade for a while now.”

She’s not sure what he’s talking about until she sees the first photo of a beautiful home. The front even looks somewhat familiar to her though she can’t place why.

“Keep going,” he urges. “There’s plenty of photos in that folder to check out.”

He’s not wrong, either.

She soon slowly scrolls through the forty pictures. Each captures a different aspect of the house from the front landscaping to the backyard’s covered patio with built-in grill. The interior threatens to steal her breath as she takes in the different rooms and the large space offered within each of them. She counts at least three bedrooms and two bathrooms in the spacious home. A formal dining room as well as a study with built-in bookcases are just the icing on the cake of this beautiful home.

“It’s a lovely home. Gracie will love it,” she says finally, still holding his phone in her hands.

“What about you, Precious?”

Omega’s eyes drop to the last photo in the folder which is another front shot of the house set at night. The garden lights niggle at a memory from earlier that evening. This is a house in the same neighborhood as Jake and his pack. A house that’s still in the same school zone as Gracie’s though in a much nicer neighborhood.

It’s everything she could ever want in a home and thought to never have again since losing her parents.

She doesn’t realize that Bucky’s gotten closer to her until his finger slides along his screen. He opens another folder and gestures for her to peruse it as well.

Omega’s eyes fill with tears as she takes in all the photos she finds there. Most of them, she hadn’t a clue he’d taken them over the past few weekends they’ve spent as what appears to be a little family. If she has to guess, she’s fairly sure that there are an equal number of photos of her as there are of Gracie in the folder.

The last photo he’s taken is one from earlier that night.

She’s helping Gracie with her bag, and he’s captured her with a bright smile on her face while Gracie is laughing at her side.

“I know you need more time to get to know me, to trust me,” he says softly, “but you’re it for me, Precious. I think that’s why we share this connection. I didn’t think true mates were real until I felt this with you. It was between us back then, too, but I’d been too young and stupid to realize it. I don’t want to make that mistake again.”

His hand comes up to cup her cheek and tilts her face to look at him.

“I’ll go as slow as you want, but please tell me you’ll give me, give us, a chance.”

Oh, he’s saying all the right things, but Omega can’t stop her fear from speaking for her. “You don’t have to say these things. It’s not necessary to get what you want. We both know that Gracie will go to you once you go to the courts to legally declare your paternity.”

He shakes his head at her.

Plucking his phone from her hand, he swipes a few more times and taps on an icon, then another.

Ringing fills the space between them until Angel answers.

“Hey, I know it’s late, but I need to ask you something. Tell me what you think about Precious.”

Angel doesn’t even hesitate. “Oh, Buck, she’s everything you said and more. I can see why you’re absolutely besotted with her. She’s wonderful and so sweet. I don’t know if I could’ve gotten through the night without her help. I still can’t believe she raised Gracie on her own, too. That little girl of yours is the sweetest thing. Your Precious is an amazing omega. You better never let her go.”

Bucky smiles softly at Omega as he says, “I’m doing my best to make sure that never happens. Thanks, Angel. Have a good night. Tell Stevie I’ll be dropping in soon. I’ve got a few commissions I want him to do for me.”

“Oh, he’ll love that. Good night.”

He hangs up the phone, his eyes never wavering from hers.

“Give me a chance, Precious. Help me fix up that house and make it a home for all of us.”

He leans in close enough to have his lips within a breath of hers.

“Please, Precious. I’m not above begging if that’s what it takes.”

When she finally nods, he closes the distance between them and presses the first of many sweet kisses to her lips.

“You won’t regret trusting me.”

*****

Main Masterlist

[ladamedusoif]

Hot Chocolate (Marcus Pike x gn!reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 3

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, turn on notifications for my posts.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x gn!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 1280 words

Warnings: Implied smut, some heavy making out, Marcus being an adorable foodie romantic art nerd, fluff city. No use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of Reader whatsoever. 

Summary: Snowed in and forced to stay over at your colleague’s Georgetown apartment, Marcus whips up a sweet treat to keep you warm.

“I don’t have much by way of dessert,” Marcus muses from the kitchen, where he’s peering into his fridge. 

You finish gathering the last of the takeout boxes from his dining table and begin cleaning them out at the sink. “You’ve given me a room for the night, Marcus, I don’t need dessert. Hey, where’s your recycling bin?” 

He gestures to a cupboard near the sink and leans back on the counter, thinking. “Actually, would you like some hot chocolate? I think I’ve got everything I need.”

Everything he needs?, you think, wondering what more you could possibly need for hot chocolate beyond some powdered mix and milk. Marshmallows, if you were feeling fancy.

“Sure, sounds good to me.” 

He grins in delight and starts rummaging in a cupboard, emerging with bars of dark chocolate and a jar of ground cinnamon, before delving into the fridge and retrieving milk and heavy cream. A heavy-bottomed saucepan is produced and positioned on the hob as Marcus mutters something about finding his grater.

This isn’t going to be cheap-ass powdered mix, is it.

Alright, full disclosure: if someone hooked you up to a polygraph machine and asked you if you had a teeny tiny harmless little workplace crush on Marcus Pike, you’d have to answer in the affirmative.

And who wouldn’t? He was kind and funny, and smart as hell, quietly undertaking a PhD in art history and cultural policy at Georgetown while continuing to work full-time. He was one of the few people in the team who actually kept up with the art world, regularly seeking you out after a new show opened at the National Gallery to exchange your thoughts on it over coffee in the canteen. 

The fact that he was also really cute didn’t hurt, either. 

When snow and ice blocked the routes out of DC back to your place in Alexandria, leaving you stranded, Marcus immediately suggested that you stay over at his place. See? Kind. 

“I’ll be fine, Marcus, really,” you’d protested, searching for hotel rooms in the city and recoiling when you saw the prices - and the lack of options. “Anyway, isn’t your place a one-bed?”

Marcus shrugged. “I’ve got a big couch, spare blankets and pillows, and I won’t stand by and see you hunkering down here for the night. C’mon. We’ll get takeout - I know a great little Korean place.”

He carefully grates the dark chocolate into a bowl while you whisk most of the cream. 

“Y’know, I really thought you were going to pull out a couple of sachets of Swiss Miss? I should have known better.”

Marcus chuckles to himself and checks the saucepan of milk. “Usually I’m a Swiss Miss kinda guy, I have to admit. But when you have guests, you do the Viennese hot chocolate. I like to make a fuss.”

You hold out the bowl of cream for him to inspect and he nods, eyes crinkling as he smiles at you. You put it down and fold your arms as you watch him work.

“Is it really Viennese, or is that just a name they use to make it sound all fancy?”

He laughs and looks at you in mock horror. “Of course it’s really Viennese! I even had it for the first time in Vienna.” Marcus takes the saucepan off the heat and adds the chocolate along with some sugar, a little cinnamon, and a dash of heavy cream. He begins to whisk the mixture carefully.

“It was one summer when I was a student - I had almost no money, but I did have one of those European Interrail tickets and I tried to see as much great art as I could. Took an overnight train to Vienna to see the Klimts at the Belvedere.” He pauses his whisking to assess the texture, then resumes.

“Like I said, I was down to my last few dollars - or Euros, or whatever the currency was at the time - but the one thing I was gonna do besides see the Klimts was go to a real Viennese café.”

The hot chocolate is frothy now, thick and glossy. Marcus nods in the direction of a cupboard and you open it, finding some mugs.

“So I’m guessing you got to a café.”

He turns off the stove and smiles at the memory. “Sure did. Café Central. It was like something out of a Stefan Zweig novel.” He takes a ladle out of a drawer and proceeds to fill the mugs with the steaming chocolate. “And I had a mug of something a bit like this - but much, much better - and a slice of apple strudel, and it was heaven.”

Marcus finishes off the chocolate by placing a large dollop of whipped cream in each mug, and hands one to you.

“This is…incredible. I don’t think I can ever go back to Swiss Miss.”

Marcus chuckles and sips his chocolate, sitting beside you on the couch. “I’m glad you like it. Perfect drink for a snowed-in night.”

You take another deep draught of the delicious, smooth drink and hum happily to yourself. “And I’m checking out flights to Vienna first chance I get.”

He looks at you intently. “Uh, you’ve… uh…”

You can see a giggle rising in his chest. He can’t suppress it, and he laughs out loud. 

“Why is the thought of me going to Vienna so funny to you?”

Marcus’s expression shifts to one of concern and he quickly shakes his head. “No, that sounds wonderful - you’ll love it - it’s just…” He reaches over and gently rubs the tip of your nose with his thumb, removing a large blob of whipped cream. “You had a little, uh, something.”

“Oh. Oh. I’m sorry.” You look down into your mug, a little embarrassed, but try to lighten the mood. “Feels like we’re in a scene from a cheesy holiday movie, y’know?”

He quirks his head. “How so?”

“Oh, you know. The whole ‘one character has whipped cream or something on their face and the other has to swipe it away and then…’”

You stop short, realising what you were about to say - and becoming very aware of just how close you are to him now.

Marcus’s voice is warm and low. “And then?”

Is he moving closer?

“And then… um. And then they usually, uh…”

He finishes your sentence by leaning in and kissing you, softly, gently at first. Your breath hitches as you feel the softness of his lips on yours. 

He breaks away for a second, staying close. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s…it’s great.” 

He takes your mug and puts it on the coffee table before cradling your face in his big hands and leaning in to kiss you again: a little harder, now, his tongue seeking entry to your mouth as your hands reach for his body and you lean back on the couch. 

You moan and whine with pleasure as you feel Marcus’s hands caressing your body, taste the bittersweetness of the chocolate on his lips and tongue. As he moves his mouth to your neck, sucking and nibbling and licking his way along the sensitive skin, you begin to unbutton his shirt and reach for his belt buckle.

“Marcus?”

He looks up for an instant, hair tousled and eyes as deep and dark and shiny as perfect hot chocolate.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch tonight. You’re keeping me warm in bed.”

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[harrysdaydream-tpwk]

part 1 - how you meet

summary: part one, harry and y/n meet for the first time. it isn’t smooth sailing, but shes intrigued.

warnings: none

pairing: harry styles x fem!reader

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

“Fuck, shit!”, you swore, hitting the espresso maker, once and then again, when the only thing it did was to spew more steam at you, fogging up your glasses.

“You alright?”, one of your coworkers asked and you nodded, though defeated.

“You think you can take over preparing the drinks for me, while I’ll handle the register? If I have to fight this machine one more time, something will be broken and it will either be my hand or the coffeemaker.” You looked at him desperately, your hands folded together in a silent plea.

“Alright, alright”, he laughed, “Don’t want to call an ambulance because you couldn’t control your anger. At least I won’t have to deal with asshole customers anymore.” He passed you and you blew him a bunch of exaggerated kisses before sliding right behind the cash register, slightly more motivated to finish the rest of your shift than before.

It was unusually quiet for Friday afternoon, normally all of the tables would’ve been taken- from desperate college students trying to finish their essays to single mothers, hoping to rekindle their failed love life. Although the job was a pain in your ass and barely covered all the bills and loans you had to pay off, it always had something to offer for your personal entertainment.

But now, as you waited for something to happen, other than the few fifteen years olds throwing straws at each other in the corner booth, you felt terribly bored. Your elbows quickly found their way to the counter and you put your chin in your waiting hands, blowing a strand of hair out of your face.

The nameless indie music idling out of the speakers above your head lulled you in a state of trance as you stared at the passer-by’s outside of the store, the big glass front not sparing you any detail. Even your coworker, who was the only employee inside the store besides you, had sat down on a few cases of soda stacked together, blasting TikTok and its annoying sounds throughout the whole store, but in this moment you couldn’t care less.

Then, suddenly, you were ripped out of your daydreaming by the bell ringing above the door and you stood up fast, startling not only the newcomers, but yourself as well.

“Hey, welcome in. Is there anything I can get started for you?”, you asked, peering at the three men, who just stared for a moment, as if assessing the situation. Weird.

The place you worked at was in a small side street, away from the bigger crowds, with quirky names for almost all of the things you had on your menu, so you gave your new customers a second to understand and choose something from your assortment.

Before you could turn away and pretend to be busy, one of them spoke up, though quietly, you could barely hear him.

“Hi. Sorry, we didn’t expect such an enthusiastic greeting. Is there anything you would recommend?” His voice was deep and gentle and you couldn’t help but admit that he looked exactly like the kind of man you would usually go for.

“I don’t know”, you reply, your voice now back to its usual octave and enthusiasm- or rather the lack thereof, “I usually just get the Iced Caramel Macchiato.”

To this day, you still refused to read any of the actual names of the drinks out loud.

“I’ll take that one then”, the man said, smiling at you. You nod as you type his order into your register.

“Anything else?”, you asked, smiling your “customer service smile” as your friends jokingly called it and the other two men nodded, replying with their orders.

“Alright, will that be to-go or are you staying in?” You waited for a second while they looked at each other and thought to yourself “That question couldn’t have been that hard”.

Finally, the guy with the long, brown hair mumbled “To go, please.”

“Okay then, swipe your card whenever you’re ready. And I need a name to call when your coffee is done.”

“Harry”, the guy who spoke to you first replied and stepped forward, pressing his card on the card reader. You nodded satisfied.

You turned around briefly, to check if you coworker, Charlie, got the order. Pleased that he was already on it, you directed your gaze back to the front of the store. Startled, you reeled back. Harry, who was the only one still standing in front of the counter, was starting at you intently. The other two had fallen back, standing near the door, as if they were waiting- no rather watching out for something- or someone.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?”, you inquired, observing how his shoulders rode up defensively. He was wearing a long, blue jacket, a hat and sunglasses and if you were honest, his outfit looked absolutely ridiculous. Paired with the black nike shorts, he looked a bit mismatched, like he was unsure whether it was warm out or not. You could’ve easily answered that question, seeing as you had been sweating profusely since you left your studio apartment this morning.

You were sure you looked disgusting, your uniform clinging uncomfortably to the body parts you most certainly didn’t want them to stick to, mascara probably smudged from the humidity from the steam that had been blowing in your face earlier.

How he managed to still look fresh, even with the thick jacket on was an absolute mystery to you.

“No, no, sorry. I like your button”, he answered, referring to the grumpy cat pin your mother had gifted you a while ago. It was ridiculous and cheesy, but it reminded you of home, so you wore it anytime you felt even slightly homesick. You debated telling him as much, but you weren’t up for much of a conversation, so you settled on a polite “Thank you.”

He smiled and nodded.

“Order for Harry?”, Charlie called and the man looked around, rather paranoid, as if he was scared someone was going to jump up from behind the counter any second.

“That’s me”, he said, still shyly smiling at you before turning towards the pick-up station.

“Have a nice day”, you called out sarcastically behind him and he waved, walking out the door, his company joining soon after.

You exhaled deeply and turned towards Charlie again, who suddenly squealed loudly. “Oh my God, what?”, you said, clutching your hand over your chest.

“Do you know who that was?”, he asked, excitedly, “Harry fucking Styles. And I think he liked you with all that staring he did.”

“No, it wasn’t. Was it?”, you asked disbelievingly. He nodded, “Oh, yeah. It was him. I’d recognize him anywhere. I think he’s actually having a show in town tonight.”

“But why would he come in here out of all places? I mean, we’re far away from anything slightly entertaining or fun.” You looked at Charlie quizzically.

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, “Maybe that’s exactly the point. What are the odds of getting recognized by hoards of fans in a small shop like this?”

“I guess so.”

You grabbed a wet cloth from the sink, starting to wipe down the counter, not able to shake the fact that superstar Harry Styles just walked into your workplace, however annoyed you might’ve been at that moment, it had felt oddly right and somehow meaningful. You touched the pin on your apron carefully, smiling at the chipped feeling of the plastic fading at the edges.

-

Two days later, the incident- which was how Charlie kept calling it, was nothing but a fun story you could tell your friends and something to be teased about by your coworkers. Yes, you had been kind of rude to him, maybe you could’ve been a bit nicer. Treat People with Kindness or whatever he always preached. But it was in the past now. It wasn’t like you would ever see him again.

At least that’s what you told the part of yourself that kept insisting that maybe he would return- the nagging voice that believed Charlie, who kept shooting you meaningful glances whenever one of Harry’s songs played on the radio.

You were in a middle of a lunch rush, the small room of the shop packed with people, when your wishful thinking suddenly became reality. Right in the middle, as if the crowd had split in two, he appeared. Or maybe he had just entered through the door like everyone else did and patiently waited in line. You couldn’t be sure.

“Harry, hi”, you greeted sincerely, when he approached the counter, “What brings you back?” You smiled ruefully, thinking about your last interaction.

“Hi. Slightly better mood today, huh?” So he had picked up on it last time. Your eyes travelled down his body quickly- you couldn’t help it, sue you. He was wearing a white button down this time, messily tucked in a light washed pair of denim shorts- although he managed to make it look stylish- and no sunglasses. His hair was hidden by a yellow crochet bucket hat. Cute.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know who you were and I wasn’t having a good day. What can I do for you today?”, you apologized.

“I think everyone deserves kindness, even if they weren’t popular. But it’s alright, can’t always be nice, especially in customer service. I get it, worked in a bakery for some time back at home.” He took his own shtick quite seriously you noted, but smiled politely.

“I would love to talk to you some more, but the place is packed right now. Is there anything I can get for you?”, you tried again.

“Yeah, yeah”, he chuckled, “I’ll get the Iced Caramel Macchiato again, it was really good the last time and also-“, he paused for a second, looking at your display of pastries, “One of the vegan carrot cakes, please.”

“Sure, anything else?”

“No, that’s all, thank you.”

You finish the transaction and say goodbye before tending to the next customer, a middle aged woman raising her eyebrows impatiently at you.

The rest of your shift goes by smoothly, with only a few minor incidents disrupting your flow. It all felt to good to be true, your interaction with Harry still in the back of your mind. The conversation had left you unsatisfied, craving more.

You didn’t know much about him, besides that he was Harry Styles and apparently currently on tour. He shared something with you and you couldn’t help but wonder if there would’ve been more if you had just let him talk. That’s what you reprimanded yourself for as you took of your apron and the shirt you wore for work in the locker rooms, pulling on a black hoodie with a nonsensical print on the front.

“I’ll see you tomorrow”, you yelled in the general direction of the store as you leave through the back door, a cigarette already waiting to be lit in your right hand. It was a bad habit and you were desperate to stop smoking- but on days like this it was the only thing keeping you sane.

“Hey”, a voice suddenly called and you shot up surprised, the cig almost falling out of your mouth. You took a quick drag before lowering it. Turning around, you spotted Harry of all people leaning against the wall of the back of your shop.

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?”, you asked disbelievingly, clutching your chest dramatically.

“Sorry, one of your coworkers told me what time you get off. They also told me your name”, he explained, peering at you with his green eyes. Fuck, why did he have to be so handsome?

“Stalker-much?”, you couldn’t help but ask, only half joking. You brought your cigarette up to your lips again, inhaling deeply, before blowing out the smoke through your nose- welcoming the rush the nicotine gave you.

“I just wanted the chance to have a conversation with you, Y/N”, he said, rolling his eyes, but smiling at the same time. It was weird hearing your name out of his mouth.

“Why?” He shrugged helplessly, observing you smoke for a second before answering.

“Fuck if I know. Couldn’t stop thinking about you, even on stage, and my friends kept teasing me. I’m in town until tomorrow, then I’m off to Cardiff.”

“Yeah, I get it. My coworker Charlie kept wagging his eyebrows at me everytime he saw someone wearing your merch. He was the one preparing the drinks for you.” You hoisted up your tote bag, which kept slipping of your shoulder.

Harry chuckled. “He did a pretty good job if I do say so myself. The Macchiato was really good. Cashier had some perks too though.”

“He’ll pass out if I tell him what you just said. But tell me more about this cashier. Were they cute?”, you flirted back, a smirk on your face.

“Oh, very. I was hoping it’d get her number by chance”, he tried as you threw the butt of your cigarette on the pavement, stomping it out with your checkered Vans.

“Well, you’re in luck. It’s not everyday an international pop-star asks me for my cell. Can’t resist your charm”, you said quietly. His shoulders dropped slightly, as if remembering his position in the world, but he caught himself.

Harry hands you his phone and says, “Just type it in yourself. It’s always easier this way.”

You nodded, taking his phone with clammy hands. What a weird, surreal world you were suddenly thrown into. The fact that he trusted you enough to just pass you his phone. The fact that he was standing opposite you, watching you, being interested in you. You wondered if this was all a dream you’d suddenly be woken up from.

But no one did. This was reality, you realized as you pressed the cellphone back into his waiting hand, brushing it with the movement. You looked at each other for a moment.

“The cute girl from the coffee place? Really?”, he asked and you giggled. Honest to God giggled. What has your life become?

Harry pocketed his phone, letting his hands hang loosely at his sides. “Well”, he cleared his throat, “I have to go. Rehearsals and all that. I’m already too late. I’ll text you?” He looked at you hopefully.

“Sure”, you answered, smiling softly, “I’ll be waiting.” You step closer, standing on your tiptoes and pressed a light kiss to his cheek- a barely there brush of lips, but he still blushed.

“I’ll see you around, H.”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

well, this marks the first part of my first ever series on this account. i’m actually so excited to see what people think. don’t forget to leave a like& follow for more<3 stay tuned!

[catslvrr]

heaven sent — 03. ice skating + arcade

previous | next

You drummed your fingers on the steering wheel, glancing at Danielle who was humming to whatever song was currently playing on the radio.

“So,” you said, shifting your attention back to the road as the light turned green. “What’s on for today?”

“Ice skating!” She declared enthusiastically, pausing Subway Surfers to see your reaction.

“Ice skating?” You repeated, baffled. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not the athletic type. That’s Minji’s job.”

“I know,” she grinned, tapping back into the game. “But there’s a first time for everything.”

You’d never felt so out of place as you entered the ice rink. On one side of the spectrum, there were kids shakily walking forward while holding their parents’ hands. On the other side, there were professional figure skaters showing off their skills. 

Danielle was part of the latter.

You scoffed as you leaned against the rails, watching her gracefully glide across the ice. “Of course you’d be good at this. God’s messenger and all.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” she smirked. She slid to a stop right in front of you, holding out her hand. “Come here. You look like a loser.”

“I’m gonna look like an even bigger loser when I slip and fall on my ass.” You clutched her hand tightly as you clumsily walked on the ice.

“You look constipated,” Danielle laughed. “Relax, I’ve got you. Just bend your knees slightly and imagine you’re drawing a V with your legs.”

You were too focused on not falling to retort back, but slowly and surely, you started to get the hang of it. She was still holding on to you, skating backward, leading the way.

You looked up from your feet, only to see her already staring at you.

“You’re doing it,” she smiled softly. You quickly averted your gaze, trying to ignore the goosebumps on your skin. It’s the air conditioning. And the ice.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“Race you a lap around the rink?”

Out of all the parallel universes, none existed where you would win. You knew this. But it was hard to resist her eyes that were glimmering with anticipation.

You responded by pushing off your feet, rushing forward, not giving her time to react. It was barely five seconds before you felt a gust of wind brush against you, and you saw her already lightyears ahead of you.

It was a while before you caught up.

“I can already feel blisters forming,” you winced as you finally reached Danielle, who was slowly skating towards you. 

Just as she opened her mouth, you saw a kid in your peripheral vision zoom past you, slamming right into her. They both fell on the ice with a loud thud, but the kid swiftly recovered and got up, not even sparing a glance or offering an apology as they skated away.

You looked at Danielle, who was still on her ass, absolutely flabbergasted, and you couldn’t contain your laughter. You expected her to be embarrassed, or angry, but your laughter died down as she just stared at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

“Did you hit your head?” You frowned. “Why are you smiling like an idiot?”

She shook her head, her smile only widening as she stood up. “Nothing, let’s go to the arcade.”

Both of you made your way to the arcade next to the rink, and you stared at the machine that traded coins for tokens. You sent a knowing glance to Danielle.

“No,” she folded her arms, looking away. “Absolutely not.”

“Spawning in some arcade tokens won’t collapse our economy,” you said. “Just do it.”

“...Fine.” She bit her cheek anxiously as she fished out a handful of tokens out of her pocket.

“Excellent,” you grinned, dragging her to the claw machine. “We are going all out today.”

(You were eventually kicked out after winning too many prizes. You hoped the staff didn’t check the surveillance recordings. Or maybe God would somehow edit it and make it seem like the two of you were just incredibly lucky.)

The two of you struggled to enter the apartment, arms full of plushies and toys. You threw them all on the couch, but picked the puppy one back up, handing it to Danielle. You made a note to yourself to leave the bear one in Minji’s room.

“Is this a thanks for today? You shouldn’t have,” she cooed, hugging the plushie tightly. 

“As if,” you clicked your tongue to hide your smile. “It’s a consolation prize for losing to me in DDR.”

“You chose that one on purpose,” she whined. “You didn’t tell me that you had a DDR phase.”

You stuck your tongue out. “In your own words: I think you’re just jealous.”

You both chuckled lightly, before Danielle spoke again.

“How was today?”

You leaned the small of your back on the counter.

“It was more fun than expected,” you confessed begrudgingly. “I haven’t been to the arcade in a while.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, reaching out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

Again, she spun and disappeared, leaving behind nothing but dust and an uncomfortable flutter that settled in between your ribs.

previous | next

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

Sugar threads

Summery:

With mumbo being far too tall, and far too skinny for any human, almost all of his clothes have to be hand made, with lots of love and care, to fit him. And who better then the local tailor, of which he is dating, who has quite a lot of love to spare for the redstoner?

No Tigger warnings!!

Not proof read or edited!!

(This is for an event by the name of @redscapeweek!! Day 4. Tailor/sharing clothes/vintage!!)

Mumbo had requested something he had never yet asked for. A dress. Now, scar is over the moon!! Thoughts fill his mind at every corner, ideas, designs, fabrics, all the sorts. Accessories and more.

The tall man himself had requested a blazer like top, and a skirt that went down just a little bit past his knees. And scar had fallen in love with the idea in seconds. A loud clicking sound leaving him in excitement, quickly rolling off to grab his sketchbook and look at fabric, mumbo following with a huff of noise.

"I- I wasn't even done talking!!" He laughed out, shaking his head as he bent down to fit through the doorway. Light streaming in through large windows overgrown with all sort of forestry. Rolls of fabric covering walls with a large simple desk in the middle. Sewing equipment thoroughly covering the desk. A large sewing machine on the left side. 

"Well I gotta be ready!! Mister mumbo, inspiration hit, and I can only help but follow its lead!!" He laughs lightly as he comes to a stop at his table, reaching for his notebook, he practically throws it open, jotting down the small amout of notes he already has. Clicking his tounge as he turns the page.

Mumbo leans slightly over his shoulder, fiddling with his hands as scar starts with a sketch.

"do you want it flowy or skin tight..?" He trails off a little, looking up at mumbo with eyes that seem to hold every possibility, every thought, everything. The way the brown eyes stay wide and scar grin at mumbo, has mumbos knees weak, and his heart soar. 

"I uh. The, the top I would like skin tight? The blazer? But, the actual dress part I uh, flowy? If that makes sense?" He asks with a bit of hesitance, an awkward smile on his own face.

Scar laughing softly as he jots it down. Adding to the sketch with a grin. "Well of course it is mumbo jumbo!! Why wouldn't it be?" He teases lightly, his eyes staring at the tall man's stature from the corner of his eyes. Said man almost folding more in on himself like he was punished.

"Well, it's, it's it like, we'll, complicated?" He chuckles, leaning down quite a good bit, practically on his knees to drape himself over the back of the wheelchair, and onto scar. Scar letting out a huff of a laugh at this.

"Complicated, won't stop me, remember that suit covered in fake flowers? That was far more complicated then this." He snorts. The sketch, and imagine of the dress blossoming under scars fingers.

With mumbos impossible hight, thin body, and sensory issues, almost everything has to be hand made for him to wear. Abd everything matters, down to the tag, the stitching, and the fabric.

It has to be made with love.

Lucky for mumbo 

Scar has a lot of love for the man, that he can pour into each outfit.

Moments past, and before either of them have the chance to notice, the sketch is down and scar is rolling off to the fabrics. Stopping at the blacks.

"Do you want to pick one that feels nice for the outside?" Scar asks with a chuckle as mumbo walks up, feeling along each fabric with care. Knowing that not only is the fabric expensive, but it must also feel safe. He stops at an almost silky one. Thick with a smooth feel to it. Plain black with lines on it, it a barely noticeable darker black. 

"I think this one will be nice..?" Without missing a beat, scar rolls over, looking at the number of the roll and writing it on his wrist.

It's easy to do the same with the rest. Selections of a red dress, following the silky feel. And a soft and warm white for the inside.

They realize it's easy to follow old habits, of mumbo spinning in circles as scar measures him. Scar kissing small areas he can reach, just to fluster mumbo, no matter how often he does it, the pale man still goes bright red, words getting caught in his throat. Mumbo and scar humming along to the same music. Scar joking the mumbo gets the boyfriend privilege of free clothes, Mumbo huffing out laughs in exchange as he makes a silly joke of how it's surprising that scar isn't trying to milk him out of every last Dimond, scar will comment how he'll milk him for something else with far too much confidence, ans then they'll develop into fits of giggles when scar realizes the implications of what he just said, with red faces. Mumbo sitting with scar and idling around the room on the days scar works on it. 

They never really change these days. They don't think they need to.

[oftenwantedafton]

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available on AO3

William Afton is standing by your front door.

It’s an hour past when he’d originally been planning on leaving. Dressing slowly. Moving reluctantly to the exit of your apartment.

“Please get home safe.” Your fingers touch his cheeks, his hair, slip inside his coat.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“On time.”

“No excuses.” A soft smile. “Goodnight, Moody.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

He kisses you and reaches for the handle of the door. You kiss him back until the door opens and he steps through it. Begin to shut it before you meet resistance. He’s pushing his way back inside towards you. Gathers you in his arms. Lips pressing into your hair.

Then he’s gone and you’re in bed and his scent is in the pillow your cheek presses against waiting for sleep that doesn’t come.

***

Monday morning. Back to the grind. You’re dehydrated and you have a headache and your eyes are bloodshot. You stand in the shower until the hot water runs out and step out to see the toothbrush you’ve lent your employer still tucked there in the cup beside yours. Purple, of course, his favorite color. Walk to the washing machine and remember you’ve got the dress shirt you’d cleaned of your lipstick from the other night folded and waiting. Open the refrigerator and see the containers of leftovers from dinner the night before. His last bottle of beer still sitting on the coffee table. So many reminders, everywhere you turn.

You not only make it to work on time, you actually arrive early. The food preppers’ tasks are well underway in the kitchen, the sounds filtering in through the dining room. Afton’s office is dark. You walk into the employee area and poke your head into the service room. No one there. You push the handle of the rear exit door to see if he’s outside smoking. No William.

Walking back through the hall now and you finally see him coming towards you. Wearing his customary purple suit vest and matching tie and black slacks. Undereyes smudged from lack of sleep. He pulls you into the nearest room—the employee bathroom you’d encountered him in that day you’d slipped out of the training exercise—locking the door behind you and crowding you against the sink.

“Good morning, Moody.” He plants a kiss on your lips.

“Good morning, Gray. I have your shirt in my car, remind me to give it to you later.” You smooth your fingers over his tie.

“Thank you, I’d completely spaced it. You got here early today. What was that like for you?”

You smirk. “Too soon to say yet.”

“Need some incentivizing do you?” he murmurs, his lips moving to your throat.

You shiver. “Maybe…”

“I couldn’t sleep last night. You know why?”

“Because you set your alarm for a ridiculous hour of the morning?” You quip. You can feel him smile against your throat.

“Because I missed you too much. Lying on that fucking pull out couch I’ve been relegated to, staring at the ceiling, wishing I was back in bed with you.”

“You’re sleeping on the couch?”

“Not sleeping much, but yes. That’s the location intended for it. At first it was because I was scolded for waking the missus up getting home late from work, and then, I mean, there hasn’t been intimacy in…and now. Well, now you know why.”

“You don’t have a spare bedroom in that mansion of yours?”

“It’s not a mansion.”

“I bet it’s pretty fancy. And expensive.”

“Having three children is expensive.”

“Can’t have always been on that pull out couch, huh?” You try to keep your tone light.

“Moody.” He sighs.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset or jealous. I mean, maybe a little, but…”

“There is no one else for me. I’m happy to say you’ve completely ruined me in that regard.” Another kiss, lingering this time. You hold him tightly. Capturing this moment to savor later.

It’s over too soon for your liking. He ducks his head out to make sure the coast is clear. Holds the door open for you. Fingers clinging to yours before you part ways.

You occupy yourself with filling the napkin dispensers and salt and pepper shakers. Make sure each table has a menu available. Tidy up a few things the cleaning staff has missed. Other employees start to file in. The pizzeria will open soon.

Another day at Freddy’s.

***

There’s always a bit of a slump in business after winter holidays and school vacations are over, but of course, the company isn’t going to stand for that.

So flyers get mailed out, announcing weekday specials, incentivizing more frequent visits. Rewards cards where eight stamps earn a free pizza. Discounted game tokens. Half off Tuesdays.

And it’s one of those Tuesdays now and you swear it’s a conspiracy because nearly all of the kitchen staff is out today. William immediately steps in to help. Sleeves rolled up. Those deft fingers working through flour dusted dough. Spreading toppings. Moving around the kitchen efficiently. You pick up an order that’s ready and you exchange a smile with him. He looks good slinging pizzas. He looks good doing just about anything, if you’re being honest.

The lunch rush passes and the afternoon is quieter. Someone’s come in to help out in the kitchen, relieving your boss of his pizza making duties. “Come outside with me,” he whispers as he passes you in the dining room.

He doesn’t even bother with the coat today. His hair is damp from perspiration, warm from working near the ovens. You unfold his sleeves and refasten his cuffs. His hand touches your cheek and you’re pressed against the wall. His mouth touches yours. “I wish…” he begins but doesn’t get to finish, the sound of the door nearby alerting you in time to move apart.

The hostess again. Surprisingly still employed there. Another beautiful outfit. You refuse to give her more than a passing glance. Afton’s cigarette is unlit. He announces he’s going back inside and you follow. Back into the custodial closet because it’s the nearest place you can be alone. You ignore the chemical smells and focus on your employer. He’s at your neck now.

“You don’t think that was kind of obvious?”

“I don’t care.” His hands cup your buttocks. “I know this isn’t the ideal location for this. Meet me in Parts and Service? There’s something there I want to show you anyway.”

“Okay, Will.”

You’re not sure what you’d been expecting. Certainly not a seven foot tall yellow rabbit with a giant purple bow around its neck. You might have changed your opinions on some aspects about working at Freddy’s, but you still aren’t a fan of the animatronics.

“New character?”

His arms wrap around you from behind. “Old one, actually. May I present Spring Bonnie. Remodeled. I’m hearing sales numbers still aren’t great even with all the extra discounts. The novelty of seeing the mascots onstage is wearing off. So…I’ve come up with an idea. What if the characters didn’t have to be stuck in position all the time? What if they could move around freely?”

“Okay, so how does that work?” Now you’re sort of curious.

“Springlocks. Something inside the suit that allows a performer to be inside controlling the animatronic directly, while keeping them safe from all of the…technology, let’s call it, inside. Now the kids won’t be stuck staring and waiting by the stage for something to happen. We bring the magic right to them.”

You frown. “And who’s going to be the one to venture into this ‘safe’ environment?” It sounded a bit like a lawsuit waiting to happen. You can’t share William’s obvious enthusiasm for his design and you feel a little guilty about that.

“Well myself, of course.”

“Will, no.” You turn in his arms. “That sounds like a really risky idea. Maybe you should wait a bit. Really make sure it’s safe before you put yourself or someone else in harm’s way.”

“I’ve already tested it, though. That’s why I’ve been so busy as of late. Which means I’ll be having more free time for us…” He kisses you. “And I have the perfect event to debut it at. The birthday party Evan’s attending here is tomorrow.”

An uneasy feeling in your stomach. Tomorrow. You’ll have to talk him out of this now before it’s too late. You just can’t shake the feeling that this is a really, really bad idea. “I know you’re excited and I have no doubt you’re a genius. And it’s really sweet to do this for Evan,” you add. Start with the positives. “But Will, I want you to think carefully about this. If the animatronics are as dangerous as you’re hinting at inside, you could get hurt badly. Worse, even. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’ll be fine. You need to have a little more faith in me, Moody.” He tightens his arms around you. “I promise you nothing bad will happen. It’s amazing, really. I think it’s exactly what this restaurant needs to revitalize it.”

“I think the restaurant is fine the way it is,” you mumble.

“You hate this place, remember?” He reminds you gently.

“Not as much anymore. It’s yours. How can I hate something that’s yours?” It’s true, you’ve come to realize. The place you’ve despised for so long isn’t quite as loathsome as it once was. You can look past the unpleasant aspects now. For Will’s sake. Because of him. He is the best part of everything. What should have been a crisis earlier when you’d been so short staffed had actually been kind of great. It had felt like it was just the two of you working together in perfect harmony.

“I can do anything with you by my side, my love.” The last of your misgivings dissipate. Maybe he’s right. Maybe it will be a rousing success. You shouldn’t worry. You’re hardly the expert on the matter. He clearly is. You sigh and relax in his arms. He feels you surrendering. “You know we never did get that break and we’ve certainly earned it…”

“You’re right. But not here, okay?” You nod towards the mascot.

“I assure you he’s a perfect gentleman.”

“You assured me you were too before you copped a feel that day in your office when you made me get changed in front of you.”

“That was rather forward of me, I’ll admit.”

“Forward is putting it mildly,” you mutter wryly.

“Should I be punished for that, do you think? Get on my knees for you? Be your obedient willing slave?”

Instantly turned on. You like it when he takes charge, but you have to admit sometimes it’s nice to exert your natural dominance and let him be submissive to you. “Fuck, Will.” Your eyes flick to the concrete floor. “You are going to feel that. Bruises marking you up for sure.”

“I’m not that vain about my appearance. Consider it part of my contrition. I’ll wear them like a badge of honor. Pick a workbench.”

You’re still not going to fool around in front of the rabbit, you don’t care how Afton feels about it. You walk towards one of the tables at the rear of the room. At least you don’t have those awkward eyes staring you down now. You couldn’t care less about its backside.

A wheeled chair at this desk. You decide to save some time and divest yourself of your panties and pants. The door’s locked. You offer your jacket as a cushion but he declines. He doesn’t want to damage or dirty it.

William kneels before you. A pleasant lurch in your core. You’re slouched in the chair, hips barely on the edge of the seat. Your fingers seed his hair. “My beautiful man.”

“I am yours. Moody, fuck, I want you.” His pupils are blown. Your legs part for him. The owner’s face dives between your legs. Because you’re on a time crunch. Because he just can’t wait any longer to have you in his mouth. Sharp nose digging into your mound, tongue slathering your lips. Oh, he’s starving. Ravenous. Your keep your fingers knotted in his hair, clutching the armrest with the other, your nails digging into vinyl. Laving you clit. Collecting the fluids pooling at your entrance. Swiping back to the top, concentrating on that sensitive, swollen button. Speeding you right along towards orgasm. How long before you’re both missed, needed for something? You hate having to rush. But it’s all you can do for now. You concentrate on the feeling. The relentless suction and sharp flicks of tongue. Both hands in his hair now, your pelvis shoving towards him, dangerously close to the edge of the swivel chair but your lover braces your body, supporting you through your release.

You whimper, panting. Not nearly as loud as you want to be. Still erring on the side of caution. Christ, Afton looks wrecked. His hair is just about as wild as you’ve ever seen it. Eyes midnight dark. Face soaked. “Fuck me.” You want him inside of you. You need it. He doesn’t hesitate. Rises, opens his fly while you move to sit on the desk. Cursing when he first enters you.

“Fuck, Moody. I love that pussy so much. You’ve no idea…”

You’ve got his tie—purple, of course—wound around one hand. Your knees dig into his ribs. That pretty mouth with sharp teeth frantic on yours.

“You said earlier…outside…before the bitch interrupted us…you wish…” you gasp between thrusts.

“I wish it could always just be the two of us. I wish you knew how much you mean to me. I was intoxicated that night, but my mind was clear. You are my love, Moody.” Your head is jerked back so he can see your features. You’d both been a little shy around using certain vocabulary over the last couple of weeks. Ever since that night at your place. Never quite reaching that same level of intensity and passion. You think you’re both still holding back. Still dancing around the obvious. Afraid. Not wanting to harm or get hurt. Maybe you won’t mind the hurt so much.

William’s breath saws roughly by your cheek. He’s got you pulled tightly against him. Driving into you, stretching you, filling the hollow inside of you with his body.

“It’s okay to say it, Will. I feel the same way.” One hand seated on the nape of his neck. You release his tie, rest your hand on his chest. Think you can feel the rapid pulse buried there.

A shuddering breath. His pace increases. “I do, Moody. I…” The words becoming unintelligible, lost in the haze of ultimate pleasure.

***

You know as soon as you see the adolescent that it’s William’s eldest son.

He’s an absolute carbon copy, the spitting image, lacking some of the height, but the features the same. Aquiline nose, high cheekbones, pale skin, untidy thatch of dark truffle hair. Even his mannerisms. The haughty stare. The prideful stretch of broad shoulders. The constant gesticulating, the way he folds his arms across his chest.

You freeze, realizing he’s noticed you staring. “You must be William’s son Michael. Mr. Afton’s,” you correct. If he suspects anything is amiss with the informality he doesn’t let on.

“Yes.” Still a British accent, perhaps a little milder than his father’s.

“Your dad’s out back getting a surprise ready for the party. Evan must be here, right?”

He nods, looking very bored. He’s rapidly losing interest in your attempt at conversation. “And Lizzie.”

“What about…what about Mrs. Afton?” You almost hold your breath waiting for the answer. It was becoming increasingly nerve wracking wondering what your…well you suppose she is a rival of sorts, isn’t she?…looked like. What you had to compete with. Curious about who William had chosen before you. For some reason you can’t shake the image of an older version of the hostess. Fair and elegant and attractive like that. The complete opposite of yourself.

“No, Mum just dropped us off. Later.” He unfolds his arms and wanders towards the arcade. You heave a sigh of relief. No confrontation today, then. Execution stayed a little longer.

You ask a passing waiter what time it is. William’s debut is actually late. Maybe it takes longer than he’d initially realized to don the costume. Maybe he was just being extra careful. Probably wants to make a dramatic entrance, you think. That’s all. He’s fine. Nothing’s wrong.

You see Michael again. This time a little boy in tow. Evan, maybe. He doesn’t share the overwhelming resemblance. Muddy chestnut hair that’s much tidier. Blue eyes that look a little teary. You’ve never been overly fond of kids, but they’re William’s offspring after all, and yeah. You feel at least a little obligated to try to be nice to them. The eldest Afton boy disappears again and you make your way to the youngest who definitely is in full blown tears now. Why weren’t there any adults watching them? Parents. Somebody.

You squat down beside the boy. “Evan?”

He drags a small fist across his damp eyes. His lashes cluster together into points. “Yeah?”

“I’m friends with your father. He’s getting a surprise ready just for you.”

“It’s not my birthday,” the boy says, sniffling.

“No, but he still wanted to make it a special day for you.”

“He’s always at work. He doesn’t care about me.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. He does care. He just has to work extra hard to support you and your siblings and your mom. I know it must be difficult, but trust me, he’s told me many times he does it for you.”

You realize he’s about to wipe his runny nose and you hastily grab a napkin from the dispenser on a nearby table, handing it to him. “Who are you, anyway?”

“Just a friend.” You look around at the crowded room, trying to find what group the child belongs to. There, at the center table. It must be. The most popular reservation that’s always booked well in advance. You guide him there, tapping the sleeve of one of the adults. An older woman, maybe the grandmother of the birthday boy. You ask her to keep a watch over him, promising Evan you’re going to go help his father get the surprise ready.

You tell yourself to be calm, but the gnawing anxiety has gotten worse by the time you push through the Employees Only doors. Moving a little faster. Running towards Parts and Service. The door is unlocked. You hurry inside.

You don’t have to go very far to find Afton. He’s partially inside the suit, the headpiece still seated on the workbench. His long frame crumpled on the floor. Some red stains in the yellow fur. Ragged breathing. Alive, thank God. But hurt badly.

“Will!” You grab the phone off the table and dial 911. The spiraled cord stretches taut as you sink down beside him, trying to assess the damage. He is as white as a ghost. His hair clings to his face in wet strands. His eyes are closed, teeth clenched.

A barrage of questions on the other end of the line. You realize you have no idea what the actual address of the restaurant is. “The fucking place with the giant bear on the sign, you can’t fucking miss it.” You hear William trying to murmur something. A number. “No, Will, don’t try to talk. They’ll fucking figure it out. Christ, maybe I should just drive you to the hospital myself.” You drag a hand through your hair in frustration and helplessness. How would you move him safely? Would he even fit in a car? “No, I don’t know exactly what the issue is. Label it as an industrial accident. Whatever the fuck gets you here faster. He’s bleeding. He looks like shit. Sweaty. Having a hard time breathing. He’s trapped in an animatronic suit. Yes, like Chuck E. Cheese,” you snap. You don’t feel the least bit bad about being so short with the operator. They’re used to dealing with people a lot less coherent than you currently are, you’re certain. “We’re in the back of the building. You’ll see garage doors, just come straight there.” You don’t dare leave the fallen man’s side to inform anyone else of what’s going on. You can’t picture EMTs and a stretcher trying to thread through the crowd. It would waste too much time.

“Fuck. Okay. They’re on their way. Stay with me, okay?” You’re trying to smooth his hair back into place. You don’t dare move him for fear of doing more damage.

His eyes suddenly open, finding yours. “Guess…a told you so…is in…order.”

“Will. Don’t speak. Don’t you dare waste breath on making a stupid joke right now.” The tears are spilling rapidly down your cheeks, giving Afton’s youngest a run for his money. “I met your boys. Michael looks just like you…”

“Moody…I should have…told you…earlier…what I…wanted to say…”

“No. Don’t do that. You’re not saying goodbye or any of that bullshit. You can tell me later. Fuck, where is that ambulance? God, I don’t even know if I know how to get the garage door open.”

“The switch…is next to it…on the wall.”

“Got it. I’ll be right back.” You palm slaps on the button and the door retracts up into the recess in the ceiling with a loud rattling sound. You’re back by his side before it even finishes opening.

“Moody…”

“Shh, Will, please. Now is not the time to be stubborn. Save your strength.”

“I…love…” His eyes roll back.

“Will? No, no, no. Come on, stay with me. You’d better not…I’ll fucking quit, I swear to God. There is no reason to be here without you. There is none…” You bend your face close to his. “I love you, too.”

The wail of a siren disturbs the sudden silence.

[quickdeaths]

@more-than-a-princess

Still confined to her cabin from sundown to sunup, and still bound by handcuffs when in transit, Shinobu wouldn't describe herself as having any abundance of freedom. Yet, the opportunity to sit with someone and eat together was one she'd missed, and among the current conscious inhabitants of Jabberwock Island, there was no one she'd rather take a meal with than Ayaka. The restaurant on the hotel's second floor was mostly empty, with the others not likely coming for breakfast for an hour or so. Enough time for Shinobu to eat and be off to the beach, rather than have to encounter everyone all at the same time, before she was ready. No, it was better to keep it to herself, and Ayaka, as well as Shinobu's Future Foundation handler.

The man from before had gone back home, so this man was someone new to her. They imagined that was much the point - that there be enough churn through their various handlers that there wouldn't be any chance of attachment in either direction. He was supposed to have removed her handcuffs for her to eat, but instead he sat on the other side of the restaurant, jacket pulled back and folded in an unnatural way to make clear the gun at his hip. It was petty, Shinobu thought, but there wasn't much she could do about it. He was to bring her to the restaurant to eat with Ayaka, then take her to the beach and remove the handcuffs so she could fish. How she managed to eat, with her hands behind her back, was her business.

"Hey. Eat." For her part, Ayaka Sato had a bite of a fruit tart on the end of Shinobu's fork, piled high with pastry cream and berries, and her tone of voice made obvious how non-negotiable her request was. "Mm," Shinobu murmured, complying without any resistance. Being fed like a child was embarrassing, but what use was shame, anymore. Ayaka speared another tart with the fork, sparing a moment to glare towards the Future Foundation agent. How she mustered any fire at all in those weary green eyes flecked with pink, Shinobu couldn't begin to guess. "I appreciate it, Ayaka. Your help, and your company."

The chef gave a small grunt that Shinobu took as acknowledgement. "I'm not gonna let you smash your face into the breakfast I made, so it's not like there's anything else I can do." Outwardly, Ayaka Sato hadn't changed. Her tongue was still sharp, and her body wasn't so obviously damaged as her own, or some of the others'. No, Ayaka's scars were inside. "Shinobu," she started, looking back to the archer with a softening expression, "you don't look as tired as usual. Are you sleeping better?" "No." "Right." It was a question with an answer so obvious that there wasn't any reason to ask it, aside from a discomfort with silence. "I had coffee this morning. I'm feeling a bit more energetic than usual because of it, that's all." Ayaka made a face, like she wasn't sure how to take that explanation. "Where did you get coffee here?" There was a cheap instant coffee machine sitting on a dirty countertop only a few feet away, but they'd run out of pods within a week, and to call the coffee so much as 'drinkable' in the first place was, in Shinobu's estimation, undue praise.

"Nevermind-san. The princess." There was a quiet moment as Ayaka looked at Shinobu, seeming to be searching her face for something. When she found it - or didn't, perhaps - she nodded. "Oh. I spoke to her at the farm recently. She said she'd drop some things off for me to cook with." There were a few moments of silence, sporadically filled only with the sounds of eating, when Ayaka brought another forkful of fruit to Shinobu's lips as she asked a question. "What do you think about her being here?" Shinobu frowned, swallowing before answering. "I'm... not sure yet." "Mm." Surely Ayaka had some sort of thought of her own about the situation, but perhaps out of some respect for how Shinobu was handling things, it appeared she'd rather keep it to herself. "Just don't overdo it, if you're not up to something." "Right. Thank you, Ayaka."

It was that conversation that came to the forefront of Shinobu's mind as she saw Sonia walking up the beach in what seemed to have become a semi-regular occurrence. What did they think about her being here? It was strange, to be so near the person she had longed to kill, whose existence had consumed her own for so long, yet not remember why it had been so important to orchestrate her demise. Perhaps they'd had some sort of connection? At the boundaries of her shattered memories, Shinobu could remember so many faceless girls, but it seemed implausible that someone as distinguished as Sonia Nevermind could have been among them.

Or, maybe it was a simple extension of her competitive spirit. The members of Hope's Peak Academy who she'd killed had died so easily, without even putting up a fight, and even top military snipers had proved terribly boring. It might have simple been the case that Novoselic was a puzzle to solve, with a dead princess as the prize. A nation locked tight, with guns and tanks behind every alleyway, where the entire population was on some level combat-capable. The despair that came when their borders were breached and their beloved princess' corpse revealed to them would have been a fitting tribute to Junko.

No... that didn't sound quite right, either, but thinking further on it just brought another headache, prompting the archer to shake their head weakly. At least they didn't have to worry about a collar tightly chafing their neck. Her burns were starting to heal, slathered with ointment that stimulated healing while protecting from the sun. Something else to thank Sonia for, in addition to the coffee. "Hello, Nevermind-san." The fish weren't biting much today, and Shinobu stuck the end of her rod in the sand as she stood to face the princess, even though she still couldn't meet her gaze. Why did she keep coming here? "If you're here to fish, I'm afraid it isn't going well today." Thankfully, there was enough of a stockpile that a day or two with little to show for her efforts wouldn't be much issue.

"Although, if it's just a matter of having some time away from other responsibilities, I'm not in any position to judge." What anyone, princess or not, did with their time in this barely-living world wasn't their concern. Whatever right she had to cast judgment on others had been surrendered long ago. "I've heard you've been busy since you arrived." Having greeted her appropriately, in her mind, Shinobu returned to the sand, fitting hands around the rod even with the knowledge that there'd likely be no tug against the line. "Though, that shouldn't surprise me. This isn't a social visit, or a vacation. No one would come here without good reason."

And good reason, Sonia Nevermind must have had - whatever it was. Not Shinobu's place to pry. "Ayaka - that is, Sato-san - mentioned she spoke to you a few days ago, about bringing some ingredients for her to cook with. I hope she expressed her appreciation properly." Likely, she did, and Shinobu didn't need to make excuses for her, if not. Still... pretending to have any decorum left, trying to adhere in some small ways to things like respect and proper etiquette had its benefits. "I imagine everyone else is getting a little tired of the same few meals." Those who ate much, anyway.

"Oh, that reminds me." Decorum. Respect. Reciprocity. "Here." They'd finished it the night earlier, taking a few passes to get used to the cheap ballpoint pens. There were worse ways to fill the hours inside the cabin. Carefully laid inside of her tackle box, to be protected from the elements and kept from creasing or wrinkling, Shinobu pulled out the paper with the ink drawing and held it out for Sonia to take. "It's from memory, and my memory is uniquely poor, so I don't know how accurate it might be. Still, it's some token of appreciation. For the coffee, and the burn cream."

Despite Shinobu's prefaces, the ink portrait of a makango was clearly drawn with a lot of care, the delicate hatching and gentle shading touch making up for poor tools. Given how many failed efforts were in the cabin's wastebasket, she'd hoped it was at least a passable effort. "I hear that the art of serial killers often carries some strange value," she muttered. Why did she know that? "If that's still true, then, perhaps that might be useful to you in some way. A positive takeaway from your trip, or something you could speak of in an interview. You could say that someone else drew it, if that would be easier."

[castieldelamancha]

Dean takes Castiel's trench coat from where it was hanging behind their bedroom's door, "I'm going to do the laundry, 'm taking this with me" he says. Now human Castiel can't keep the coat clean with a thought, even if he barely wears it now, the same way he can't mend the small rips in the fabrics, he has to sew them back together himself. He says he likes it better now, that it tells a story, like every scar that has appeared in his body. Even the one he got on his thumb while cutting up some carrots because Dean was distracting him.

Castiel gives him a thankful smile from where he is sitting at the desk, adding details and notes in the margin of the pages of the bestiary Dean and Sam have been putting together for future hunters.

Dean leaves him to it and heads to the laundry room, humming a tune. He doesn't think he has ever felt this content, this relaxed, he still has bad days, but they are never as bad as they used to be. Not with the hands that are always there to hold him, the ears that are always there to listen, the rough voice that is always there to offer as much comfort as it can.

He puts all the clothes he was carrying inside the washing machine but stops when it's the trench coat turn to go in, he makes sure to check every pocket, just in case Castiel has something he would rather not lose forever or that could mess up the washing machine. Once done, and with time to spare as he waits for the clothes to be ready to be moved to the dryer, he turns to observe Castiel's little treasures, displayed on the folding table they have in the room. A twenty dollar bill, a receipt folded in the shape of a bird, because he saw someone doing the same at a diner and he had to try and do the same with their receipt,"has he really been carrying that there for a year?" He mutters, shaking his head. He still had Dean's tape in his pocket, Cas and his refusal to just let it with the other ones back in the impala. There is an old post it note too, wrinkled around the corners, the ink of the pen Dean used to write it down slightly faded with time and the constant touch to it, 'drive carefully ', it says, 'don't forget to check in!!!' Dean left it on his door one night, knowing he wasn't going to be awake when Cas left once more, not like a car crash could have killed him back then, but still. He felt like a needy idiot, writing that last part.

"You kept this?" He asks when quiet footsteps behind him come to a halt as Castiel crosses the room and rests on hand on Dean's back.

"Of course, I appreciated the worry, even if a car crash couldn't have killed me back then," Dean huffs at that, "I needed the reminder sometimes, that someone cared enough to write this for me, to wait for me to check in with them to know if I was okay or in need of help, that I had a place to come back to."

"Well," Dean clears his throat, looking down at the piece of paper, "I saved it from the washing machine," he hands it over to Cas.

"Thank you." And maybe it's for saving it, maybe it's for having written it in the first place, maybe it's for both.