#if you're a mutual or a follower it is probably not directed to you at all

[yinyuedijun]

SINCERITY

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now, not when his blood is all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. If Suo makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry. (Or: Suo, Nirei, and Sakura get into a fight in the red light district and go to you to get patched up. Suo takes the opportunity to tease you mercilessly.)

4.5k words, suo x reader with implied one-sided sakura x reader, sfw with mature themes. set post-canon (they are all 18-19 years old), non-canon backstory details for suo and sakura (speculative as of ch. 146). fem reader – references to gendered professions, e.g. hostessing; reader wears a dress for her job in a girls’ bar. warning for inaccurate depictions of first aid! dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Suo’s never liked your job.

You suppose this is fair. The feeling is mutual. You’ve never liked the fact that Suo chose to go to a delinquent school rather than a proper high school, and he’s never liked the fact that you chose to drop out of your proper high school to go work in the red light district—first at a kyabakura, and now at a girls’ bar. His master, who also happens to be your master, has always told you that this was a natural reaction on his part. Having a secondary school certificate is important, after all. But Suo’s disapproval of your income sources, no matter how politely or subtly phrased, has always felt like it runs deeper than simple concern for your education.

Still, this has never stopped him from visiting you at your place of work, though he only tends to come by under the worst possible circumstances—tonight worse than any other.

When you see the three of them limping through the clamour and heat of the red light district—the neon glow of the street making the blood smeared across Suo’s face shine vibrantly—you entirely forget that you're on the clock. You chuck your sign onto the ground (3000¥ per hour! it reads) as you cut a path toward them, almost tripping in your stiletto heels. Your customer service voice gives way to your regular one, which is so outraged that it startles everyone around you.

“Suo, you motherfucker—are you trying to lose the only eye you have left?!”

Suo is unbothered. His smile is calm and deeply shameless as you approach him. It’s nothing like Nirei, who cringes at the furious look you give him, or Sakura, who looks like a deer caught in headlights when you round on him instead. Like he doesn’t know what to do at the fact that someone is worrying over him, and especially not when that person is wearing an extremely revealing evening gown. For a minute, you think he's going to bolt.

But Suo keeps him there, grip tight on his arm.

“Hi,” he says brightly, like there isn't blood all over his face and shoulder. “Are you busy? We might need to trouble you.”

“Of course I'm busy! I'm in the middle of a shift!” you fume at him. But you still extract Sakura from him, scruffing him by the neck before he can clam up and run. You pull him in the direction of your bar, and gesture for the other two to follow. “Hurry up before my manager sees you.”

Smuggling three delinquents into the washroom of a girls’ bar is not a skill you thought you'd ever need, but it is one that you've become an expert in. This is at least the third time you've done it. The Furin trio rarely ever loses fights, but they occasionally slip up in the part of the red light district that isn't controlled by Roppo-Ichiza. This is somewhat unavoidable, as Keyaki Street is a different beast from Keisei Street. It isn't just delinquents here, but bona fide criminals. “Like, actual fucking Yakuza,” you grouse at Suo for the millionth time. You wipe at the blood remaining on his face—most of it you've already rinsed off, staining the melamine sink with iron—and the paper towel in your hand blooms red.

“But these guys weren't Yakuza,” he says cheerfully.

“They still pulled weapons on you! Bladed weapons!”

“Mm… well, that's true. I'm sorry.”

You scowl at him. “No, you're not.”

“No, I'm not.” He’s still smiling. “In our defense, we didn't have much of a choice. They were about to do something terrible to an innocent person,” he says, and you deflate a little, because you know Suo can't stand to see injustice. This is something you love very dearly about him, and also a quality of his that constantly raises your blood pressure. But then you roll your eyes when he happily adds, “And in my defense, it’s all our Captain’s fault!”

“Oi!” Sakura yells from one of the stalls, where he’s sitting and holding a bag of ice to a knot on his head. “Wasn’t my fault we ended up fighting. They were practically beggin’ to have their asses kicked.”

“You did provoke them, Sakura,” Nirei says. He's in the other stall, trying to stay off his sprained ankle.

“Well, they were dangerous! Not like you wanted to just leave them alone either,” Sakura grumbles, and Nirei apologises, though Suo accurately points out there is no need for him to. After hearing this story, you can't help but agree, and you suppose you shouldn't have expected any differently. After three years at Furin, Sakura is no longer the type to pick fights for no reason. Whatever those guys were up to must have been pretty bad for him to start shit in unfamiliar territory.

Still. The red light district is what it is. Touts, street gangs, and Yakuza are constantly causing problems here, with violence of a scale and nature that Bofurin simply don't see on their own turf. Your street in particular makes someone like Endo look like a joke. “You should still learn to exercise some restraint,” you say to Sakura. “And you”—you give Suo a miserable look—“you know the area. You should have known better. At the very least, you should have called me for backup.”

“But you were on the clock,” Suo points out, and you frown. Despite having absolutely no need, you take out an alcohol wipe and swipe it over his cut. He winces.

“I'm still on the clock now,” you reply, voice dry, “and here you are, distracting me anyway. My boss is going to be on my ass about it if I don't bring in any customers tonight, you know.”

“We can be your customers,” Suo offers.

“You aren't old enough to drink!”

“Neither are you, yet you work here.” His gaze has turned a little sharp. His voice too. You blink, suddenly mollified.

“...okay. If each of you buys a drink after this, I’ll call us even.” Then you glance down at his changshan, which is sliced through, the pearly silk stained red at the shoulder. He’s insisted that the wound is unserious and said that he'd rather clean up his face first, and you're starting to question his priorities. “That is, if you don't have to go to the hospital after this.”

“I don't.”

“I don't know if I believe you.” You pull out some polysporin. “Come closer.”

Suo could do this on his own. His hands aren't incapacitated. But he humours you, as he's always humoured you, and allows you dab his cut with the antibiotic. You feel a little sentimental as you do it, and almost a little sad. Doing this reminds you of when he was a kid who had just started learning martial arts. Granted, he never got any real cuts back then, but sometimes he’d scrape his knees or his elbows or—god forbid—his face, and you would plaster bandaids all over him when he did. But none of those were real injuries.

More than anything, doing this reminds you of when he lost his eye. The state that he was in after the accident. The way his face was bandaged after the surgery. The texture of the gauze against your fingers when you asked to try swapping out the dressings for him.

If Suo notices the way your lip is trembling, he doesn't comment on it.

“You’re so mean—how come you never believe anything I say?” he asks. You press the gauze to his cut with more pressure than necessary, and he blinks. He opens his mouth again, but then the door rattles violently.

“Sorry!” you yell. “Washroom’s closed for cleaning!” You wince as you hear complaints in reply—you’ve been closed for half an hour!—and shoot Suo a sour look as the customer leaves. “I’m really risking it all for you three,” you remark.

“I'll make it up to you,” Suo says. “I'll stick around the whole night and buy as many drinks as you want. Your manager won't be able to hassle you about anything then.”

“No way. You're not wasting that much money on the red light district.” You frown. “Master will kill me if I let you piss away your inheritance like that.”

“I’m not wasting my money on the red light district. I'm wasting it on you.”

“Well, I'm employed at a girls’ bar, so when you waste money on me, you are in fact spending it on the red light district.”

“Then you should quit so I can spend as much money on you as I want.”

“Quit and then live on what income?” You set aside the first aid kit and grab some more paper towel. “Take off your shirt.”

“Oh? Right here? Right now?” His eye goes wide. “How forward.”

Sakura coughs very, very loudly from the stall. If you weren't so used to Suo saying this kind of thing just to mess with you, you'd probably do the same. In fact, you'd probably choke on your spit and die on the spot. But as it is, you only sigh and start unbuttoning Suo’s changshan, starting at the high collar. Any sentimentality or concern you previously felt is quickly drowned out by annoyance.

“Suo.”

“Don’t worry—I don't mind,” he adds. “I thought you'd never ask. I just didn't think it’d happen here. And so suddenly.”

“Don’t do that. I can't do this today.”

“Don’t do what?” he says innocently. He lets you slip his changshan off one shoulder. To your relief, the cut does look very shallow—he’s too quick for anything other than a bullet to land a serious hit on him, you guess—but you still swallow when you see it. It looks like he's bled a lot more than he probably actually has.

Or you hope so, anyway.

“Joke like that,” you reply after a moment. “It's very mean.”

“I’m not joking about anything.” You feel his eye on you as you start dabbing at all the red on his skin, the paper towel in your hands blotting crimson as if with ink. Your breath shakes as you study the wound. He lifts his hand, his knuckle brushing against your cheek. You smack it away, but he doesn't seem bothered. “I was being very serious,” he continues. “Quit working in the red light district and let me support you instead.”

“Suo,” you say, your voice flat, “there is no job you could qualify for on this planet that will let you earn more than what I'm making now. If anything, you should let me support you.”

“Ah,” he says brightly. “I get it now—you want me to be your trophy husband!”

Now you are choking on your spit and you do think you're dying. Sakura sounds like he's not doing much better—something bangs loudly against the washroom stall, and you assume it’s his forehead. Even Nirei is affected, not-so-subtly clearing his throat.

“I do not want you to be my trophy husband.”

“Just a regular husband, then?” he asks. “That’s alright. If I joined the Yakuza, I could make plenty of money. You could even stay at home if you wanted.”

“Suo you motherfucker you are not joining the fucking Yakuza! And I wouldn't be a stay at home wife!”

“Oh? You wouldn't want to be?”

“No, god! Do you know how much I could make if I scored a hostess gig at a high-end place? Why would I ever turn down that kind of money?!”

“Ah, so you want us to be dual income?”

“Of course I would want us to be dual income!”

“You could get a different job and we could still be dual income.”

“There’s no other job that would pay as well.”

Suo sighs, and your brow twitches. You've always been suspicious about why he disapproves of your choice in career. It’s not in his disposition to judge people, but sometimes you still worry that he's doing it to you.

“What,” you ask, “would you be so against marrying a hostess?”

“No, not at all. But I'd be worried if my spouse worked somewhere unsafe. What if you end up at a Yakuza-owned club?”

You pause, startled at the abruptly earnest tone of his voice. Suddenly you feel guilty.

“Oh… well, I wouldn’t work at a Yakuza-owned club.”

“Hm… then I guess it's fine.” Suo nods, as if arriving at a decision. “We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us will work for the Yakuza.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us—” Your eyes go wide as you realize what you're saying. You feel yourself flushing. “Wait.”

“What? Is there a problem?”

“Suo.”

“Don’t tell me you're going to change your mind now. That would just be mean.”

“I'm being mean?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Well, yes. You don't think it would hurt if you changed your mind about marrying me? And so soon after agreeing, too.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You have a number of possible retorts that cross your mind, and somehow you pick the least relevant one: “You can't trick someone into marrying you.”

“Then can I trick you into dating me?”

“Suo! I said don't do that!”

“Don’t do what?”

“Joke about that kind of thing!”

“I'm not joking about anything.”

“Yes you are? You don't actually want to date me. Stop saying that you do!”

Suo leans in. He stares at you, his gaze distinctly vulpine. It's very attractive, and also intimidating, and you should be used to it by now, but your heart rate ticks up anyway. You swallow thickly as his thumb glides along your cheek again, your skin scorching beneath his fingertips. You forget to bat his hand away this time.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats, voice lilting, “how come you never believe anything I say?”

He's baiting you. He's obviously baiting you, and you consider for a moment whether you want to bite.

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now. His shirt’s stained with such a bright red that it keeps distracting you, just like the blood he's left all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. You think they'd go broke before they could spend enough money here to appease her, were she to discover the four of you. You might even lose your job. Then you wouldn't be able to support yourself anymore, let alone Suo, who cracks jokes as easily about being your trophy husband as he does about being Leonardo DiCaprio.

If he makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry.

“You're not being very gentlemanly right now,” you finally point out. He raises a brow.

“No?”

“No. I'd even say you're being a menace, actually. Doing a very bad job of”—you almost laugh as you say this, because you've heard this speech so many times—“engaging with my feelings. Not being supportive at all. Really falling off the staircase to adulthood, you know.”

Suo studies you. Something complicated passes through his eye before he pulls away, his expression now back to normal. It's deceptive how innocent he looks.

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I’ll play nice.”

“No, you won't,” you retort, and Suo smiles at you, not replying. But he does give you a break. You finish cleaning up the cut without incident, although you do get flecks of blood on your evening gown, which you hope won't be too noticeable against the black satin. You bemoan the lost cause of Suo's changshan too—made of Suzhou silk, a gift from your master—and silently make a note to buy him a replacement sometime.

You're in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when the door clicks and swings open. Met face to face with your coworker, you freeze up.

Your stage name leaves her mouth in an angry bark. “What are you doing? I told you you're not supposed to be having sex with customers here, you should be doing that someplace—” She stops, evidently spotting the blood on Suo’s shirt, and then the other two individuals locked up in here with you, one of whom is blushing violently and looks to be on the verge of dying from embarrassment. Beneath your hands, you feel Suo’s body go stiff too.

“Oh,” she says before either of them can comment. “It’s just your delinquent boyfriend and his buddies.” Suo waves at her, and she nods back before squinting at the sink. “Are you going to clean that up?”

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Please don't tell our boss.”

“Have I ever ratted you out?” she asks. “Just get out of here soon. People do have to piss, you know.” Then she stops, looking at Suo with a dubious expression. “And make sure your boyfriend doesn't die.”

You're too tired to correct her on the nature of your relationship. “I've been trying,” you say, and she gives you a sympathetic look before retreating. You hear her laughing with a customer about people fooling around in the washroom, and I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, and could you please go downstairs while I clean up. You’re so relieved, you nearly fall to your knees. A calloused hand touches your back as you rub your temples.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Suo says quietly—sincerely—and instead of saying no, you're not, you reply, “I know. I’m sorry too.”

Suo’s always hated your job.

He’s always hated your job, your boyfriends, your apartment, and a lot of other things about your life that Sakura doesn’t have any business prying into. And it's just as well. Sakura also hates your shitty job, and your shitty boyfriends, and considering that you live in the same shitty building as him, he isn't a fan of your rental situation either. Nirei’s too polite to say anything about it, but Sakura can tell that he disapproves as well. It’s not like any of them are living the most comfortable lives either—Sakura has personally been living from shithole to shithole, mostly alone, ever since his parents passed—but your lifestyle does make them all feel poorly.

You're just a very easy person to like. And it's very easy to want nice things for you. So Sakura gets it, how Suo feels about you.

What he doesn't quite get is how Suo acts about you.

One thing he’s learned over the years is that Suo is very good at reading people. Sometimes he understands Sakura better than Sakura understands himself, and he can convince Sakura to do things which he himself didn't think were possible for him to do. He's done the same with Nirei, and about half the other people in their grade, and at least a third of the guys in Bofurin. It’s frankly a terrifying skill. But Suo never uses it with you—not to get you to change jobs, or boyfriends, or even apartments.

At first Sakura thought that you were just immune to Suo’s tactics, but he's recently come to realise that Suo simply gets too emotional about you to know how to convince you of anything. He’s even emotional enough to get kind of petty and a little mean with you, which is something that Sakura has only witnessed from Suo during fights. Really bad fights.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, especially when you’re clearly head over heels for Suo.

Sakura doesn't have any business prying into your personal problems. Though truthfully, he’d be happy to thrash some random assholes for you anyway, if that would fix your heartbreak. (He's already done this to at least one of your exes, and it worked shockingly well.) The problem is, Suo is not a random asshole and Sakura isn't sure that you'd want him thrashed in the first place. But it's just fucking painful watching the two of you act like this around each other, so he ends up pulling Suo aside after you kick them out of the girls’ bar, scowling.

Suo looks at him, surprised. “Sakura? What's the matter?”

He doesn't mince words. “How come you were being such a dick to your friend?”

Nirei goes stiff. “Sakura,” he says in his panicked ‘why are you trying to pick a fight now’ voice, “where is this coming from? I don't think Suo was being rude…” But Sakura can tell, as Nirei’s finishing his own sentence, that he's second-guessing himself.

“No,” Suo replies. “I was being a bit terrible, wasn't I?” There’s no humour in either his words or his face, but the corner of his mouth lifts. He actually looks endeared. “I'm surprised you noticed, Sakura.”

“I mean”—Sakura feels himself going red, embarrassed at just the memory of how you looked at Suo; first so worried, then painfully fond, and then like you were going to burst into tears right there in the washroom and ask him to hold you, as if you were in a horrible getsuku drama—“it was kinda hard not to.”

Suo nods. “I suppose it’s natural to be sensitive to the feelings of someone you like.”

Heat floods his face. “I don't like her!”

“Did I say you did?” Suo’s mouth curls when Sakura can't answer. “Don’t be embarrassed. She's a very easy person to like.”

Sakura tries his hardest to ignore Suo—which should be easy, because Suo lies randomly and pointlessly all the time, whenever he thinks it's funny—and says, “If she's an easy person to like, how come you act like you don't like her at all?”

“Was I acting like that? Or was she acting like it was impossible for someone to like her?” Sakura stops. Suo gives him a long look, then smiles. “You would know how difficult it can be to accept being liked, Sakura. And how long it can take to understand that there are people who want to support you unconditionally.”

Sakura opens his mouth once, twice. A third time. Nirei sighs. The two of them watch as Suo—rather than walking in the direction of the subway—steps over to a vending machine and buys a bottle of oolong tea.

“Are you going to wait for her shift to finish?” Nirei asks.

“Mm, I think so.” Suo glances down at his ankle. “But you should go home, Nire-kun. You can’t fight like that. In case those guys come back here, I mean.” He opens the bottle, takes a sip. “They had bladed weapons. It would be bad if you risked it.”

Nirei glances at the entrance to your bar, worried. “But…”

Sakura understands without Nirei finishing his sentence. The security at your bar is terrible, and plenty of people like to exploit that. It was Nirei who noticed a group men eyeing you before anyone else did, following you all the way from Keisei Street to your place of work. And sure, Suo kicked the shit out of them in the end, did much worse to them than vice versa—but who knows if there aren't more of them.

Suo hates your job. All three of them do.

“It’s okay,” Sakura says. “I'm sure the two of us will be enough.”

“...I'll ask Tsubaki if he's free,” Nirei finally relents. “And I'll text Kiryu and Tsugeura too.”

“Thanks, Nire-kun.”

Suo gets a bottle of ramune after Nirei leaves, passes it to Sakura. Tsubaki comes by later, still in his pole outfit, with several pieces of taiyaki for them to share—I’m always snacky after dancing, he explains—and the three of them loiter in front of your bar until four in the morning. Tsubaki asks questions about you in a tone that has Sakura wanting to crawl into an alleyway just to hide, and Suo deflects masterfully with questions about Tsubaki’s new boyfriend. The guys from earlier don't show up. Maybe the sight of Roppo-Ichiza’s top fighter scares them off.

You're surprised to see them there when you emerge a little later. You give Tsubaki a happy but perplexed look as he hugs you.

“Tsubaki? What are you doing here?”

“Keeping these two company,” he replies. “And I wanted to say hi, of course. You should come by the club sometime, you know! I haven't seen you in forever.”

“Sure! That would be nice, but…” You turn to Sakura and Suo, puzzled. “Why are you guys still here?”

Sakura, on instinct, nearly recounts the whole evening to you—about the men tailing you, about how they got into a fight, about the kind of things they said they'd do once they caught you—but Suo answers first.

“Troubling you again,” is all he says. “It’s fine since your shift is over now, right?”

You give the two of them a long, curious look. For a moment, you look worried, but you're eventually disarmed by Suo’s expression.

“I guess it's fine,” you reply. You sound so happy. Suo’s gaze goes soft, and Sakura has to force himself not to look away. “Let's hurry up and go home.”

You smile at them, and it's the kind of smile that makes it very easy to like you. The kind of smile that makes it natural to want nice things for you. The kind of smile that would make anyone emotional, even if they're normally very controlled. It makes something in Sakura squeeze tightly, all knotted up and painful.

He’s starting to understand why Suo acts the way he does around you.

END

this wasn't meant to be a love triangle, my apologies…

this was also meant to be a very short piece (like 500w lol), but I kept thinking about what suo’s backstory might be, and why he was so comfortable in the red light district in the manga, and what these guys might realistically act like in an aged up, romantic context. that all coalesced into this very bizarre fic LOL. I'm not sure how it'll land, but I hope someone out here enjoyed it! I would like to write more about this triangle (+ nirei) but I'm not sure what the level of interest would be, or if it'll even make sense with the manga. I guess we’ll see eventually!

in any case, thank you for reading!! <3

[wannabespacesmuggler]

L.H. | Like a Moth to a Flame

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee

Summary: Logan Howlett is a dangerous man; at least, that's what he wants you to think when he first meets you during your shift at Lucky's. However, he only seems to prove the opposite as he becomes a more constant presence in your life. After learning his true identity in a dark back alley, he's certain you want nothing to do with him. But against your better judgment, you're drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Pairing: Lumberjack!Logan Howlett x Bartender!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, men being creepy in an alley, canon divergent (because fuck the timelines), mutual pining, miscommunication

Word Count: 3.4K

Author’s Note: I am overwhelmed with the love and support for my first Logan fic. This man has taken over my ever waking thought. I wrote this while picturing lumberjack Logan from X-Men Origins: Wolverine and listening to Hozier (this man is so "Too Sweet" and "NFWMB" coded). Super proud of how this turned out, hope you enjoy it.

You’re used to a rough-and-tumble, rough-around-the-edges kind of crowd — blue-collar workers, committed hunters, down-on-their-luck drifters. Maybe that’s why you don’t think twice when he enters the tiny dive bar. He’s clad in a deep maroon flannel tucked into a tattered pair of jeans. You don’t even look in his direction as he sidles into a seat at the end of the bar. He looks like any other patron you’ve met while bartending at Lucky’s. 

“Hey there, what can I get for you?”

He leans forward, forearms flexing against the counter. A shiver runs down your spine as your eyes linger on the deep scars etched in between his knuckles before traveling up his broad frame. It’s as if your fight or flight response kicks in, and suddenly, a voice in your head tells you to run. But as you finally meet his hazel eyes, you freeze. There’s a hollowness in how he looks at you — a profound sadness that makes your heart ache for the man sitting before you.

“Whiskey, neat.”

You simply nod at his request before turning to pour him a glass. As you place the drink before him, a flash of metal across his chest grabs your attention. The man follows your gaze, and his features harden at the realization of what caught your interest. He quickly shoves the dog tags hanging loosely around his neck under his shirt — out of your line of sight. Your cheeks instantly flush, humiliation washing over your body. You begin to apologize, but the man downs his glass of whiskey and slaps some cash on the table.

“Thanks for the drink.”

With that, he grabs his leather jacket off the back of his chair and stalks out of the bar. You watch him leave in stunned silence. You hadn’t meant to invade his privacy in any way. You’re used to the anonymity that some men around here need to survive — hell, you don’t even know the names of some of your regulars. Before you can get swallowed up by embarrassment, one of your other patrons calls for another drink. Shaking off your previous interaction, you return your attention to your job.

After work, you couldn’t stop thinking about the encounter. With a deep sigh, you pour yourself a drink and collapse into your couch. You don’t know why you’re getting so worked up about it. In reality, you probably won’t ever see the man again, which should relieve you; however, the thought only disappoints you.

To your surprise, he walks back into the bar three days later during your shift. You try to ignore his presence as he moves to sit at the same spot at the end of the bar. To make amends, you pour a glass of whiskey and set it in front of him.

“This one’s on the house.”

The man looks up, giving you a confused expression. He opens his mouth to protest, but you cut him off.

“Don’t. It’s just an apology for the other night.”

He gives you a nod before grabbing the glass and taking a long drink. You turn away from him, but his deep voice cuts through the rowdy Friday night crowd before you can take a step.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. I still expect a tip, though.”

A chuckle reverberates in his chest. The sound of it causes your face to light up. The man’s lips pull up into a small, gentle smile. You force yourself to return to work before you get further drawn into him. Unlike the other night, he sits at the bar for the rest of your shift, ordering several glasses of whiskey and keeping his eyes trained on the television above your head.

“It’s the end of my shift. Ready to close out with me?”

Logan nods, downing the rest of his whiskey and then placing several bills on the counter.

“Keep the change.”

“Wow, thank you…” 

You trail off, realizing you still haven’t learned his name. Looking down at the money he placed before you, you notice he’s tipped you at least fifty percent. You don’t want to invade his privacy again, but a part of you wishes you knew his name so that you could thank him properly.

“Logan.”

“Thank you, Logan.”

He stands up from his seat before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“You working tomorrow?”

You bite your lip at his words, trying to stop yourself from grinning like an idiot. Trying to ground yourself back into reality, you remind yourself that you don’t fraternize with your clientele. While working at Lucky’s, you’ve learned one thing about the men who frequent the establishment — they’re bad news. But then you look back up at him. He’s got to be over six feet tall; his simple white t-shirt accentuates just how broad his body is, and yet this sturdy, well-built man looks almost nervous standing before you. Your body responds before your brain can catch up.

“My shift starts at 6:00.”

Logan slides his leather jacket on, and a slight smirk spreads across his features. He’s a devastatingly handsome man, and you’re no better than a moth to a flame — irresistibly attracted to that which you know will hurt you. 

“See you then.”

And you do see him during your shift the next day, and your shift after that, and the one after that. Logan’s there in his seat at the end of the bar during all of your shifts, ordering whiskeys and making polite conversation until he’s become a constant presence in your life. 

Today is no different. You have a glass of whiskey ready for Logan when he enters the bar. His schedule with the town’s logging company is pretty consistent. Logan accepts the glass graciously as you slide it in front of him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

You ignore how nonchalantly the term of endearment slips past his lips — and how your heart lurches as he says it. Instead, you focus on his features, which somehow look more exhausted than usual today. His work is hard, long, and labor-intensive; however, throughout your conversations with the hardened lumberjack, you’ve also learned that Logan’s sleep schedule is abysmal.  He’s a grown man; he can decide what he wants to do — or doesn’t want to do — but a part of you can’t help but want to care for him.

“You gotta get some sleep, Logan.”

He scoffs in response, looking up at you with tired eyes. You know he isn’t angry at your suggestion, but the pointed look he gives you is a warning. He’s opened up quite a bit throughout his frequent visits to the bar, but there is still an air of mystery about the man sitting before you. You know better than to push him, so you raise your hands defeatedly.

“All I’m saying is that those dark circles do nothing for that handsome face.”

A warm laugh reverberates in Logan’s chest. He takes a long drink from his glass before responding, downing a considerable amount of whiskey with absolutely no reaction.

“You think I’m handsome?”

You roll your eyes at the man, trying to keep your cool. Logan is an enigma to you — simultaneously socially awkward and overly flirtatious. It’s as if he has two personalities — two completely different sides of himself — fighting for dominance at all times. And yet, it works because he’s catastrophically charming. 

“Shut up.”

A smug smirk spreads across Logan’s face, and you decide it’s getting a little too stuffy in the small dive bar. You grab the pack of cigarettes you keep stashed under the bar and turn back to Logan. He already knows what you’re about to ask. It’s become routine for Logan to join you during your fifteen-minute break, sharing cigarettes in the secluded alley behind the bar.

“I’m going for a smoke. You coming?”

“Let me finish my drink. I’ll be right out.”

You nod at him before moving towards the back door. As you step out into the alley, you’re met with a much-appreciated, cool breeze. It causes a shiver to run down your spine as your body adjusts to the sudden difference in temperature. After placing a cigarette between your lips, you pull a small silver lighter out of your back pocket. You slide your thumb over the engraving on the side: L.H. Logan had given you the lighter after yours burnt out about a month ago. You tried to give it back, but he insisted you keep it. You bring the lighter up to your face, but a voice surprises you before you can light your cigarette. 

“Those things’ll kill you, sweetheart.”

A man you’ve never seen before emerges from the darkness and approaches you with an uncomfortable air of familiarity. The way this man says Logan’s term of endearment makes you sick to your stomach. It sounds sweet coming from Logan’s lips — grounded in a deep respect and laced with affection. 

You were simply going to ignore him, knowing Logan’s presence would deter him in a matter of minutes; however, your body bristles as two more figures join him from the darkness of the alley. Your body moves on its own accord, seeking the comfort and safety of the bar — of Logan. But the man closest to you grabs your arm before you can step out of their reach.

“Where you going, sweetheart? The party’s out here.”

His voice is sickly sweet and dripping with venom — a stark contrast to Logan’s low, warm timbre. The two men behind him laugh at his words. Your fight or flight response kicks in, and you struggle against the man’s hold as you’re hit with the gravity of your situation.

“Just let me go.”

Your voice is stern as you rip your arm away from the man’s grip. You rush to get away, but he’s quicker. He places both hands on the brick wall behind you, caging you in. Now you’re panicking. A threatening growl interrupts the encounter before the man in front of you can say anything else, and Logan emerges from the darkness. His features are menacing in the dim light of the alley, but you’re met with a sense of relief rather than fear.

“You heard her. Let her go.”

The tiny hairs on the back of your neck raise at the sound of his voice; however, the stranger in front of you doesn’t seem to find him as frightening. Instead of backing down, the man lets out a dry, unamused laugh at Logan’s words.

“We’re just having some fun here.”

Bile rises in your throat at the insinuation in his tone. Logan seems equally displeased by his response as another animalistic growl rips through his body. He takes an intimidating step forward before speaking.

“You don’t want to do this, bub.”

It’s almost as if he’s pleading with them — begging them to stop so that he doesn’t have to act first. Your eyes find those dog tags hanging around his neck again. Your heart breaks as you realize Logan doesn’t want to fight, but he will — for you. Based on the look in his eyes, he’ll rip these men apart limb from limb if they lay a hand on you. 

“No, buddy, you don’t want to do this. You’re outnumbered — three to one. You don’t stand a chance.”

The man’s tone is amused but impatient. He’s itching for Logan to either leave them be or throw the first punch, but he does neither. Instead, Logan squares his shoulders and extends his arms out at his sides.

“You sure about that?”

Your brow furrows at an unfamiliar sound — a strange, metallic snikt. You’re surprised when the man’s arms fall from either side of your shoulders. You take the opportunity to create distance between yourself and the group of men who are all staring at Logan. Not understanding what caused their sudden hesitation, you also look over at Logan. Your body tenses at the sight of him standing in the middle of the alley with long, metal claws protruding from his fists. He takes another step forward, and the men scatter, running for their lives. 

Logan waits a few moments, ensuring that the men are actually gone. Then he lets out a deep sigh as his metal claws retract back into his hands. Your hands meet the cool brick behind you, grounding you in this incredibly unreal moment. You blink, expecting to wake up from whatever dream you’re having right now — but you’re not dreaming.

Logan finally turns to face you, and his features soften. His eyes scan your body, checking you over for injuries. He takes a step toward you but stops as you take a step toward the bar's back door. You can’t seem to look away from his hands — at those deep, pronounced scars between his knuckles. His eyes follow yours, and you’re met with instant regret as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. You finally look up at his face and are anguished at the sight of his hardened features.

You want to tell him a million things. Your body moved on its own accord. You didn’t mean to stare at his scars. You’re just confused. You’re grateful for his help. You’re not afraid of him.

But you don’t mutter a single word. It’s as if you’re frozen in place. 

“Alright.”

Your heart almost breaks in two at the pained sound of his voice. Logan meets your eyes one last time, disappointment evident in his gaze. Finally, your body shakes out of its paralysis, but it’s too late — the damage has already been done. You watch helplessly as he begins walking away from you. 

“Logan, wait.”

But he doesn’t turn around. He keeps walking until he vanishes into the darkness. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks as you slide down against the brick wall — partly because of what could have happened and partly because of what did happen. And just like the first day you met Logan, you fear you may never see him again. 

But once again, you were wrong. 

Eight unbearably long days later, Logan enters Lucky’s again. You watch his bated breath as he approaches, hoping he’ll sit at his usual spot at the end of the bar. Instead, Logan places a few bills on the counter before meeting your gaze. You draw in a shaky breath as you look into his hazel eyes — the hollowness is back, and our heart aches as you realize you’re now the reason behind that sadness. 

“Didn’t feel right not closing out last time.”

You almost laugh at his words — the free glass of whiskey was the last thing on your mind. He rolls his shoulders back nervously, his muscles flexing under his black t-shirt. You reach out and grab his hand before he can pull it away from the counter. His eyes instantly widen, but the physical contact seems to make him relax ever so slightly.

“Can we talk, please?”

Your hand tightens around his, physically begging him to just stay. Logan nods in silent agreement. You pull your hand away from his and try to push down the sudden disappointment caused by the loss of his touch. You move toward the back door, and Logan follows you into the alley from a safe distance. For a moment, you’re lost in a bout of deja vu as you lean against the brick wall, and Logan stands before you. Your hands nervously find Logan’s lighter in your pocket, looking for something to occupy yourself with. The movement catches Logan’s eyes, and you swear the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile at the sight of his lighter in your hands. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words tumble out of you clumsily. Logan’s brow furrows, and you watch as his head tilts slightly to the side. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

Logan’s lips pull into a small frown as he considers your apology. He takes a cautious step forward, watching you intently. He’s waiting for you to pull away, but you stand your ground.

“Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?” 

You can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. Hearing him say that name — the word that’s been keeping you up at night — you realize just how much you missed the sound of his voice.

“I made you think I’m afraid of you.”

Logan takes another step forward, testing you. You know what he’s trying to do — he’s giving you an out. Pull away, and he’ll stop, but you lock eyes with the man before you. His movements might be cautious, but his eyes are wild with unspoken emotion.

“Well, are you?”

“No.”

Another step forward. He’s now standing within arm’s length. You could reach out and touch him. God, you want to reach out and touch him. Logan looks down at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. No man has ever looked at you like this, but then again, Logan certainly isn’t like any other man. 

“You should be.”

That voice from the first day you met him appears yet again, telling you to run. But you stay put. You don’t need to run from him. You don’t need to fear him. He protected you from those men. He was prepared to fight for you. He revealed his true identity to keep you safe. And once again, you’re like a moth to his flame — gravitating towards him.

“I’m not afraid of you, Logan. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He’s a breath away, so close you can feel the warmth radiating off his body. You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding in your chest as his gaze moves from your eyes to your lips. His hand covers yours, stopping your anxious fidgeting with his lighter. You watch in awe as he takes it from your grasp and places it into your jacket pocket. He moves his hand out of your pocket; his fingers leave a scorching sensation behind in their absence as they slide across your skin until they reach your waist. His other hand comes up and tenderly caresses the side of your face.

“Say it again.”

Your breath hitches at his request, but you do what he asks — hell, you’d do anything for him.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Logan shakes his head. His hand moves to take hold of the other side of your waist. The grip he has on you is secure but gentle.

“No, sweetheart. Not that part.”

Oh. Oh.

You could cry at the realization — at his need to feel wanted and appreciated. You move your hands to either side of his face. He melts into your touch before meeting your eyes again. A part of you wonders if anyone has ever touched Logan like this — if he’s ever known what physical contact feels like outside of a fight.

“I’m not afraid of you, Logan. I trust you.”

And suddenly, Logan is pulling you into him. His lips desperately find yours. Your fingers thread through his hair as his body pushes you into the brick wall. His movements are rooted in a deep hunger — not driven by lust, but in a need to be known and loved and touched. So that’s just what you do. Your hands move through his hair, down his neck, across his chest, over his back. You attempt to touch every bit of Logan to prove that you want this — that you want him. 

A low growl reverberates in his chest as he pulls away from your lips. Unlike the night before, this growl isn’t rooted in anger but, instead, the result of a deep desire. His hands move away from your body and find the wall behind you. Your brow furrows at the loss of his touch until you hear a familiar sound on either side of you — a sharp, metallic snikt. He leans down, forehead resting against yours as his short, rapid breaths fan over your face.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t control it sometimes.”

You shake your head at his admission. He did control himself — he purposely removed his hands from your body before his claws extended. He protects you as if it’s just his second nature — something he doesn’t even need to take the time to consider. You run your hands up his chest, feeling the tense muscles under his t-shirt, before gently grabbing his face.

“Hey. Hey.”

You pull away slightly so you can look him in the eye. Your words grab his attention, grounding him.

“You have nothing to apologize for. I trust you.”

His breaths gradually even out, and eventually, you hear his claws retract and feel the familiar warmth of his touch against your skin again. As Logan maintains eye contact, looking at you as if you’re the answer to some unspoken prayer, you begin to think you’ve gotten this all wrong: maybe you’re not the moth, but the flame.

[amymbona]

Ugh just imagine being Patrick's girlfriend and every time you guys hang out with Tashi and Art you're super giggly and flirty with Tashi, like you're basically twirling your hair on your finger and looking at her with glee,

And no one misses the way Tashi practically undresses you with her eyes every time she sees you.

Patrick tries to bring it up and you just shrug, telling him that you and Tashi are really good friends and you just admire her.

Let's pour a glass of fresh wine, who wouldn't be into Tashi Duncan, right? Even Patrick used to be, before he found himself you - a pretty little thing. And he's not an idiot either. Patrick is probably the most sexually observant person to walk on this earth, and he can quite literally smell the arousal in the air.

The moment he begins noticing your reactions in Tashi's presence - the cheeky smiles you send in her direction, how you keep always tilting towards her despite Patrick's arm being around your waist, and don't even get him started in the short skirts you wear when you're about to meet her - his head gets filled with silly and yet very intense scenarios of the two... three? of you in one certain situation.

Patrick knows there are some sexuality issues going on in your pretty head, that you're still figuring yourself out and, frankly, he doesn't mind. You're still young and not so experienced, so it's only natural you'd like to experiment a bit. And he figures your attraction towards his friend is something that should be pushed forward. Mainly, to help you figure yourself out.

So it's really no surprise when you, Patrick and Tashi are hanging out in your dorm and the conversation stirs towards the topic of sex. Patrick, who's leisurely holding you against his chest, smirks at Tashi who's been eyeing you like a four course meal the whole evening. It's very much evident the two of you are mutually attracted to each other.

"Hey, Tashi," he mutters, offering her a casual smile over your shoulder, fingers casually rubbing the soft skin or your tummy under your shirt. His legs are spread, allowing you a warm little place to rest in.

"Hm?" she hums, gaze snapping from your pretty face to his own, and the moment their eyes lock, something in the air shifts.

As if the two were able to communicate silently, nothing is said for a while. You lift youe head off of Patrick's shoulders, glacing up at his face in question, as no other statement follows his words. He smiles down at you and kisses your cheek before adverting his attention back to Tashi. "C'mere."

Tashi, who usually never accepts any sort of command, doesn't need to be told twice. She gets up from where she's been resting in your chair and moves towards the bed, slowly plopping down in front of you. A small smile on her face, not paying much attention to Patrick.

"You like Tashi, darling, don't you?" Patrick whispers, his nose bumping the side of your face.

Of course you do. "Yeah."

Patrick snickers and his hands slide down to your thighs, fingers digging into your plush flesh before spreading them softly. Not much is shown as your skirt falls over the gap between your legs, but Tashi can catch a hint of your pink cotton panties. "And do you think Tashi likes you as well?"

You sure fucking hope so. But you know what's Patrick asking about. This isn't just some best friends talk, this is a clear jab into whatever has been going on between the two of you.

"I think she does."

Patrick smirks in satisfaction, liking your answer. His gaze settles down on Tashi, a brow raising. "Do you like my girlfriend?" and Tashi doesn't hesitate to nod. "Show her how much."

Like a lioness, Tashi crawls further between your spread legs and settles with her hands on your sheets, appreciating that Patrick is holding you nice and open for her. With the skirt pooling around your hips and offering the sight of your bare thighs, she rubs her face against the inner sides of them, planting little kisses in the skin that has only been touched by Patrick. Her mouth runs along the sides of your panties, sweet tasting saliva gathering in the gaps of your groin.

"F-fuck... Tashi," you groan, hips shifting in her direction, only to be stopped by Patrick's hands. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth, not allowing you to come forward.

"You like it?" he taunts. "Like her?"

You're a mess of nods and desperate whimpers, hips buckling and begging Tashi to come closer, to finally touch you where you need her the most. She doesn't really feel like stalling either, needing you in the exact same way. Her tongue licks a stripe over the already damp fabric of your panties, tasting the hint of you arousal through the soaked cotton. And she likes the taste, sweet and innocent.

"You're so sweet," she coos, a thin finger hooking around the crotch if your panties and yanking it to the side. Your beautiful pussy is smiling at her, inviting her to come closer. "So pretty too."

She runs a finger through your folds, a layer of wetness coating her nail like a top coat, making you shiver at the intimacy of her touch. Your thighs shiver and Patrick squeezes his hands into your flesh. "Keep 'em open. Be a good girl for Tashi."

And you could earn a trophy in being a good girl, for both Tashi and Patrick, allowing them to maneuvre you to their liking, to play with you and touch and kiss and taste you. While Patrick's hands keep lightly massaging the soft flesh of your thigh, Tashi's mouth approaches your inviting cunt, licking a long stripe between the folds. She makes love to your pussy and, honestly, eats you out better than Patrick ever could.

The female solidarity, the knowledge of the anatomy of a woman's body and all the hidden longing between you two. All of that makes for a perfect session, the presence of your boyfriend not being enough to discourage you from enjoying it at all.

It's warm and nice, all of you tangled up together, Tashi's skilled mouth working on your cunt, and Patrick can't really resist himself from fingering at your clit. He rolls the tiny bundle of nerves between his fingers, bumping into Tashi's nose as she works in satisfying you from the inside, pushing just barely through the tight hole of your pussy.

"Fuck..." beads of sweat collect on your hairline as you allow your head to fall onto Patrick's shoulder, completely pliant and submissive to their ministrations. "You're so good... Both of you. Don't stop."

In response to your words, Tashi blows a hot breath through your folds and kisses your pussy lips, her mouth moving up to latch onto your clit, successfully pushing Patrick out of the way. He groans at the sight, finger sliding along her cheek and to tease at your unoccupied hole. "Who's better?"

You don't register the question at first, moaning as two knuckles of Patrick's forefinger disappear into the hole, making your clit throb under Tashi's lips. She hooks her teeth under the hood and pulls, enough to make your whole body burn.

"What?"

"You heard me," Patrick sighs, locking eyes with Tashi who blinks up from where she's steadily working on stimulating your clit, her own cunt getting wet from the sight of your head thrown back and mouth parted wide. She's confident that it's entirely her work, that Patrick could never make you feel this good.

And just to get you to say her name, to admit she's the one making you weak in the knees, she adds her own hand to the fun, her thumb rolling around where Patrick's finger disappears in your pussy and then pushes in as well. The size is nowhere near to his cock but the presence of two different, oddly shaped objects makes your pussy light on fire. "Tashi!"

Witnessing this whole ordeal, Patrick is nowhere near jealous, savouring the sight of his pretty little girlfriend being fucked by her girl crush. Fuck, his dick is straining under his pants, begging to be freed and take one of you right here on that bed. But not before you could be satisfied, not before you could cum as a result of their wonderful abuse. "Of course she is."

[yeowangies]

mutual understanding

Chapter I: The butt of the joke | II | III | IV | V

PAIRING: Kenpachi/AFAB!Reader CONTENTS: AU - Fantasy, Medieval, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Pining, Explicit Sexual Content in later chapters. WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: None. WORDCOUNT: 3914

Summary:

Marrying a complete stranger was something you had come to terms years ago, but marrying Kenpachi Zaraki, out of all the possible options, was something you didn’t want to settle with. No matter that he had saved your life, you weren't going into the marriage happily, even more so, you were afraid he would be a brute in every aspect of the word.

To your own surprise, however, no one had ever treated you better.

Notes:

So uh. Hello. I started writing this a few months ago and I didn't think it'd be so long so, it's a kenpachi chaptered fic now lmao

This is heavily inspired by the webnovel 'under the oak tree', though only inspired. If any of you had read it, you'll notice the similarities and how small they are.

As a medieval au, I tried to write with a manner of speech according to it mainly for the reader character, but I might be a little stiff for that lmao

This will have smut (in the 3rd chapter if i calculated everything right), so if you're waiting for it, it's coming 💖 For now, this chapter works as an introduction and setting to the rest of the plot!

header by me, divider by @/benkeibear

You rolled your eyes, frustrated, as you waited in the corridor for your father to come out of his office, with a speech prepared in your head to dissuade him from making this arrangement happen. 

Marrying a complete stranger was something you had come to terms years ago, but marrying Kenpachi Zaraki, out of all the possible options, was something you didn’t want to settle with. There was only so much you could do against such an union, but you had nothing to lose, so talking your father out of it was probably the last and only resort. 

“Father,” You called out for him, loud enough to make him look at you once he walked out of the room. He only kept walking as you chased after him, holding onto your dress as each of your steps resonated in the hallway. “I beg of you, please do not let this union take place!”

“Why should I do such a thing?” He asked, voice cold, not even presenting you with a quick glance as he kept on walking. 

“I do not wish to marry that man!” 

“I am the one who decides who is to become your spouse, however.”

“I understand that, but please, I must insist!”

He came to a full stop once he reached the door towards the banquet hall, and you tried to catch your breath as he turned to look at you with a stern look. 

“What do you have against him? Kenpachi Zaraki saved your life, if you must remember, my child.”

“I remember it perfectly well, but… giving him my hand in marriage as payment is atrocious to me, Father!”

“Surely you are not suggesting not to reward his actions.” He quirked an eyebrow in your direction. You knew you were testing your father’s patience at this point. “You are the princess of this kingdom, or have you forgotten?”

“His honorable actions deserve every reward possible, and we must not repair expenses if he demands food, or treasures, or perhaps a bigger fief than the one he already has. But, please, give him my life in exchange? You cannot be serious.”

“If I did not know you well enough, my child, I would assume you have a vendetta against him.”

“A vendetta!” You repeated, amused and exasperated at the same time, and you couldn’t help but raise your voice when you went on. “Father, he is a barbarian! He is violent and does not even seem to know any rules regarding etiquette!”

“Let me remind you that he is incredibly powerful too.” Your father said, as serious as always, not paying attention to any of your objections. “So powerful that even without belonging to a royal family, he has his own army. People who follow him, who are loyal to his physical strength and character. Kenpachi Zaraki would be a great ally to have if we ever have to face a conflict with our neighboring kingdoms, as it had happened in the past. And there is no safer place for you to be than with the strongest man in this land.”

The political agenda weighed heavily in this situation. You assumed that was the case, but you have just been explicitly told that was probably the main reason behind this marriage, and you couldn’t argue anymore. At a loss of words, you let your father turn to leave towards the banquet hall, sparing you a daring look before walking in. 

You sighed, clenching your fists in defeat. No other argument you could have possibly said would change this predicament.

When you walked into the hall moments later, you were taken aback to see Kenpachi talking to your father, in the most casual manner.

“I do not need a wife.” Kenpachi said through gritted teeth, emphasizing every word with anger. “I don’t want one!”

“Do not be so unreasonable, Zaraki,” Your father replied dismissively. “You will need someone to care for your fief while you are away.”

You had to control the urge to roll your eyes this time. 

“My people do that just fine!”

“It has already been arranged. I will not take any more objections. I am being more than lenient with you, Zaraki, considering your past activities, I am willing to overlook them for this union that will benefit us both.”

“I do not give a crap about that.” Kenpachi replied, low and intimidating, but you still couldn’t help but look at him with eyes wide open when he cursed like that so openly in front of you and the king. 

Kenpachi clicked his tongue as he turned to leave, looking at you with a glare when he strode past you, and slamming the door shut. For such an antic complaint, you wondered why he didn’t stand his ground more, he certainly could if he truly didn’t want this union. 

As much spunk you had in you to face situations like these, his size and imposing aura just left you breathless. You barely even reached his chest when he walked past you. You were terrified he might just accidentally kill you by simply putting a hand on you. 

“Father, please, please!” You turned to your father with imploring eyes. “I beg you, do not let this happen!”

“My child, if you have any more objections, I would be glad to hear them, but you better have a spectacular argument.” He said to you, frustrated yet purposely mocking you.

“He is just… so old!” 

You turned red when your father suddenly laughed.

“Oh, other royal men choose their spouse much, much younger than you, when they are even older than Zaraki himself!”

“I am well aware that it happens…”

You sighed again, completely given up, as you turned around.

*

The wedding ceremony took place almost two weeks later. Knowing what little you knew about Kenpachi, you were surprised he didn’t take off before the date. 

He was cold during the service, and barely looked at you during the banquet. He must have hated this arrangement as much as you did or even more by the way he kept glaring at everyone who even tried to talk to him, and you were left in charge of exchanging niceties with the guest wishing you good luck in this new period of your life. 

You couldn’t help but wonder constantly about what your father mentioned, even as you were in the middle of a ball with a room full of people. ‘Past activities’. Whatever did he mean by that? You knew your father merely saw you as a political tool, but you were concerned he had actually sold you to a man who could physically harm you. 

It was inevitable not to dwell on that, especially as you were getting ready for the wedding night. With your maids trading comments about how happy they were that you were married, but concerned that Kenpachi was such a big man with such a stern expression, it was difficult to relax. Their worries had been your own for weeks, and it was only making it worse to hear other people comment on them. You kept your words to yourself however, not dismissing their conversation, as they brushed your hair and helped you change into your nightgown. 

You weren’t clueless about what couples did in the intimacy of their bedrooms, but no matter how much you knew, you had never experienced it. It was almost impossible to hide your nerves; you only knew so much about this man, and what little you knew only made you more worried. 

Kenpachi practically burst the door open, getting you out of your head and making you and your maids jump from surprise. 

“Leave us.” He demanded, fixing his eyes on you as your servants scurried away. 

You bit your lip, looking at Kenpachi with what little courage you had at that moment before standing up from the chair by the vanity. You had only seen him wearing different kinds of armors throughout his stay at the palace, but to see him in only a tunic and pants made you realize how muscular and thick he naturally was. His gaze was smoldering as you approached the bed, carefully lying on it as gracefully as you could, trying not to show how nervous you truly were. He was sitting on the bed in the blink of an eye, and you closed your eyes when you felt the mattress shift as he took off his tunic. 

“Fucking unwilling women isn’t really my style.” He said, making you open your eyes to meet his briefly. “Do you want this or not?”

Apparently you were doing a terrible job at hiding your anxiety. 

Looking at him when he was completely shirtless only distracted you more, and you swallowed loudly before attempting to speak, but only an unintelligible babble came out of your mouth. Kenpachi clicked his tongue, and when he averted his eyes, you feared he might walk out of the room. If he did, not only would the unconsummated marriage fall apart, but you’d be terribly and publicly humiliated. 

When he brought his thumb to his lips, biting it hard enough to draw blood, you stared at him with eyes wide open. He let the blood drip onto the sheets in the middle of the bed before wiping off his finger, a crimson stain forming immediately. You were too confused to react when he reached for your nightgown, pulling it over your thighs before pinching the skin there, strong enough to make it hurt. 

A loud squeak came from your mouth, and you instinctively swatted his hand away, sitting up and pulling back. 

“Why did you do that?!” You asked, soothing your thigh with your hand over your gown. 

“Why do you think?” Kenpachi replied with a smirk, entertained by your reaction. “That slap you gave me wasn’t so bad.”

“Well, you hurt me!”

“We’re even then.”

You looked at him, confused by his words, as he lay on the bed beside you, kicking off his boots. 

It took you staring at the blood stain on the bed for a minute as you rubbed your thigh to fully understand what had just happened. A priest would come and check if the marriage had been consummated the next morning, and there was proof. The little yell you let out would convince anyone who might have been listening outside.

Kenpachi had just let you out of a situation you weren’t ready for, without even a second thought. 

“Thank you.” You said softly, looking at him as he closed his eyes. 

“Just go to sleep and let this day be over with.”

You hummed in agreement, relaxing even more when you noticed he wasn’t going to try and touch you at all. You lay beside him, taking a quick glance in his direction as you got comfortable, covering yourself with the blankets and turning to the side so as not to face him. 

*

Leaving the palace you had grown up in was difficult but you knew it was coming as soon as the wedding ceremony was over. 

The morning after the wedding night, your maids had already prepared most of your luggage, and by noon you were already on a carriage, on your way to Kenpachi Zaraki’s fief. Him and all his men traveled by horse, the only privilege of having a nice comfortable seat was given to you as the only woman. 

You caught some topics of conversation here and there. How hilarious it was that Kenpachi had gotten a wife without even trying and your difference in age and size were the most common. It made you chuckle to even hear comparisons like ‘beauty and the beast’. But what got your attention the most was the name that occasionally popped up, ‘Yachiru’. 

‘Yachiru was waiting for them.’ ‘One of the few times Yachiru did not accompany Kenpachi.’ ‘Yachiru must feel lonely all by herself in the castle.’

You were starting to wonder if maybe Kenpachi wasn’t as single as he seemed, and that’s why he refused to marry you initially. A woman waiting for him at his fief could only mean one thing, and anger bubbled up inside you. It wasn’t uncommon for men to have other women outside their marriage, but it was unfair that he had one while you were getting married. 

“Why are you sulking?” Kenpachi asked you while you looked out the window, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“I am not doing such a thing.” You replied, even though you knew you were.

“We’ll get to my place by night, put up with it until then.”

His horse went up ahead as you stared at him, still surprised by his lack of finesse in his words. 

True to them, however, you reached his fief after nightfall, when you were hungry, and most importantly, ready to sleep. You didn’t even have the energy to pay attention to your new home, though the darkness was making it difficult to even look at it in detail.

“Wait here, I’ll get food.” Kenpachi said once you were both in what would be your shared bedroom from then on. 

The chamber was dark with a high ceiling, stone walls keeping the light away, with only one big window that made moonlight crept in. It was warm due to the fireplace, which you assumed the help probably started earlier. To your own surprise, it was spacious, with even an ample desk with a chair; and the bed was big enough to comfortably fit three people, with soft blankets and covers made out of fur. 

It wasn’t the kind of room you expected from a man like Kenpachi. 

When he came back a few moments later, carrying a tray with plates for the both of you, you practically gulped down everything on it as soon as you had it in your hands, forgetting about being polite and delicate for a second. 

“So you can eat.” Kenpachi teased you with a smirk.

“I apologize,” You said with your mouth full, slowing down for only a second to drink water. “I was just famished.”

“Why are you saying sorry?” He asked, looking at you curiously. “You royals are too complicated. If you’re hungry, eat.”

“Truer words have never been spoken.” You replied, tasting the bread on the side, that was made recently, still warm and soft on the inside. 

You didn’t exchange words while you both finished your meals, and you eyed him with intrigue every once in a while. Kenpachi seemed just as hungry as you were, swallowing down everything faster than you, and drinking what was probably wine from his cup. He lacked manners, you knew he did, but it only made the situation more endearing. 

His lack of social graces made it difficult for you to like him at the beginning; he seemed aloof at best, or completely ill-mannered at worst. But maybe you had looked at him wrong. You’ll have the rest of your life to figure it out. 

“Can I get a maid to help me get undressed?” You asked once he removed the plates from the bed. 

“The maids are sleeping. I didn’t know you needed help for that.” Kenpachi stared at you blankly for a second too long and you inevitably blushed.

Ashamed, you remained quiet, avoiding his eyes. You didn’t want to ask for his help in removing your dress, but you couldn’t do it alone. 

“Can you help me then, please?” You finally asked, looking at him with embarrassment.

His gaze remained on you, unfazed for a moment, before he nodded and gestured to you to come closer. You stood in front of him while he sat on the bed, and turned around, holding your hair back so he could see the back of your dress. 

Kenpachi sighed loudly, and the feeling that you might be annoying him made you tense. He took his time, carefully undoing each button. You shrugged off your sleeves once he had reached the end, nervously holding onto the front of your dress. Before you could tell him to loosen the satin tapes of the corset underneath, he was already on it, hooking his fingers and undoing the knot before tugging softly at the tapes to open it up. 

Your face was hot from embarrassment for having to ask for his help, for feeling like a bother in doing so, and for exposing yourself like this. You stepped away once he was done with the tapes, and while you held tightly onto your dress to prevent it from falling, you looked at him over your shoulder. 

“Can you turn around, please?”

Raising a brow, Kenpachi eyed you up and down before getting up from the bed and turning towards the fireplace, keeping his back to you. 

“I don’t even get why you’re making a fuss,” He said, removing his boots. “I saw you in your sleepwear yesterday.”

“It is not the same situation.” You replied quietly, as you quickly shrugged off your dress, letting it fall to your feet before shimmying your way out of your corset. 

“What’s the difference? I’m gonna be seeing you undress for the rest of our lives.”

You gulped loudly, but didn’t reply. 

Once you removed your bottoms, you were left in your tunic, tying the tapes in the front so no skin from your chest was visible. 

“You can turn around now.”

When you looked at Kenpachi, his shirt was gone, and that only made your face blush harder. He scanned your shape with his eyes quickly before sighing, approaching the bed and lying down on it. 

“Come on, let’s sleep, I’m beat.”

You nodded, though you didn’t think he even noticed, as he closed his eyes as soon as his head hit the pillow. 

Sliding on the opposite side, you covered yourself with the blankets, and turned to your side, your back to him like the night before. 

“Good night.” You whispered quietly, and closed your eyes.

*

When you woke up the next day, the sun was already high up, and Kenpachi seemed to have woken up a long time ago by how cold the side of the bed was. You took the opportunity to explore your new home as soon as you finished breakfast, and it amazed you how enormous the castle truly was. 

Its design on the inside reminded you of a fortress, with a lot of long corridors and rooms that would make anyone lose themselves in there if they were to go deeper. Or perhaps it was just you; the castle was mostly made of stone with only a few windows, and every corner looked exactly the same. Completely different from the palace you used to live in that had tall windows with luxurious decorations and items in every wall. It would take some getting used to living in such a place, but you really couldn’t complain about it; it was still a big castle that offered you comfort and security. 

As you headed downstairs to explore the outside, you stopped in your tracks when you heard some maids talking to each other as they passed by. 

“Yachiru was her usual cheerful self now that Sir Zaraki was back.”

You frowned as you kept walking, offended that everyone in the castle seemed to know that your brand new husband had another woman. One that had been with him long before you knew it. 

You didn’t really care if Kenpachi had other women, you even expected it since he didn’t have any intention to marry you in the first place. But you hoped he was at least careful about it so the entire world wouldn’t find out. Apparently it was a little too late for that. 

The garden left a lot to be desired. As you walked through it, overgrown grass and weed invaded most of it, and even the trail was uneven. While you headed towards the training grounds, you already decided to ask Kenpachi for permission to fix it. 

The training area was spacious, and currently occupied by almost every boisterous soldier Kenpachi had under his command. Dust flew in the air as they yelled and exchanged sword blows, blood occasionally splattering on the ground, and you stood, mesmerized by how eager to fight these men were. Violence only attracted more violence, and there was the proof that Kenpachi Zaraki only attracted more people who were exactly the way he was. 

But you were shocked to your core when you saw a little girl in the middle of it all, her pretty pink hair contrasting the atmosphere and uniforms of all the men. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You jumped when you heard Kenpachi’s voice beside you, and he stared at you, impassive, when you turned to him. 

“I-I was just… getting to know this place.” You replied nervously. “What is that child doing there?”

“Training.”

“W-What? She is only a child!”

“And she’s stronger than most men here.” Kenpachi replied, staring at her as she swung her sword like she was playing with it. 

“Whose daughter is she?”

“Mine.”

You inevitably choked on your own saliva when you heard him and started coughing, loud enough that almost every man present turned to you, which only made blood travel to your face faster. Most of them bowed to you, but you could barely acknowledge them as you tried to recover.

A daughter? At this point you were convinced you were the butt of the joke. 

Kenpachi was staring at you between curious and amused, but he remained quiet. 

“W-When were you planning on telling me that?” You asked him once you regained your composure, covering your mouth with your hand. 

“Tell you what?”

“That you have children!”

“Oh.” Kenpachi said, as if it was the most boring thing you could be talking about, and it only made anger start to bubble inside you. “She’s not actually mine.”

“What?”

“I found her in the woods when she was a baby and took her in.”

“Oh…” You whispered, extremely embarrassed about the situation. “What is her name?”

“Yachiru.”

It all made sense then.

You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding, and stared at the group of men in front of you, who still had their eyes on you. Ashamed of introducing yourself in such circumstances, you bowed as you said your name quickly before making a quick exit and turning back to the castle. 

You knew you would have to socialize with Kenpachi’s army of men sooner or later, but you were still embarrassed they saw you red as a tomato and sputtering nonsense, so you ended up having dinner in your room. 

“Did you stay here all day?” Kenpachi asked when he walked in at night, making you jump slightly. You still couldn’t really get used to his loud gruff voice.

“Not precisely.” You replied, eying him from the bed as he took off his boots. “I explored the rest of the castle before returning here.”

He only grunted in acknowledgement before removing his shirt and eyepatch, and you averted your eyes quickly, trying not to stare at him. However, when he took a clean shirt and walked towards the door, you couldn’t help but look at him, alarmed that he was leaving. 

“I’m going to sleep in another room,” Kenpachi turned to look at you with his usual hardened expression. “You stay here.”

You couldn’t even let out a single protest as he walked out the door.

[zorrasucia]

Teach Me Tonight - Part 7

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Deleted Scene] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] Part 7: [Deleted Scene] [Part 8]

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (3k)

Tags: Smut, Set sometime after the opening of The Bear, Porn with a little plot, Virgin!Carmy, Fluff, Miscommunication, Angry Sex, Nightmares, Domesticity, Morning Sex, Mutual Masturbation, Both Carmy and Reader have a bit of a praise kink

Summary:

Glimpses of every day life and sharing an apartment with Carmy.

"I'm sorry, okay? I am! I won't use your ingredients without asking- just- please calm the fuck down!"

Your small argument from closing time had escalated on the way home to the point where you were screaming at each other by the time you slammed the apartment door behind you and followed Carmy to the bedroom. You had fought before, of course you had. But this was probably the worst one so far.

Carmy stood on the opposite corner of the room, hands on his hips, breathing heavily.

"Do you know how fucking expensive imported black garlic is?"

"I don't, but I have the feeling you're going to tell me," you spat, petty, the whole sentence leaving a bitter taste inside your mouth. You backtracked."I'm sorry. I'll pay for it, okay?" you tried to appease him even as your blood was boiling. "Listen, when I moved in, I was ready to make some compromises. I downsized my closet, I sold some furniture-"

"I didn't ask you to do any of that," Carmy interrupted you.

"Carm," you gave him a stern look. "I'm only saying that you could be more understanding about shit like this. We share the fridge and the pantry. I'm sorry I assumed I could use the stuff inside without asking, it will not happen again," you repeated, then inhaled deeply. "Just- I can't help feeling this isn't about that."

Carmy looked red in the face, angry like you had only seen him inside the kitchen, pacing and flexing his fingers. You couldn't believe he was actually losing his shit so severely over a steak and some garlic - even if it was a super expensive steak and black garlic.

He looked at the ceiling. "It is about you touching my shit without asking. It is about you leaving your things on the kitchen table when I need it to work-" he clenched his jaw. "I'm sick and tired of not knowing where anything is in my own fucking apartment!"

You had organized the closet to fit your stuff, and  put Carmy's vintage denim and your bigger dresses in storage. You still had to get a desk for your sewing machine and work stuff, in the meantime it had stayed on the kitchen table, which, in your defense, had remained unused for most of your stay.

"Why didn't you say anything?" you asked in exasperation. "I've been living here for three weeks! You could have said something instead of bottling it up until it was-" you gestured vaguely in his direction, "whatever this is!"

"I like you being here, I didn't want to scare you off!" Carmy groaned.

"Carm, did you think I would leave if we didn't agree on where the shirts are supposed to go?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Dunno!"

"You can tell me things, Carm!" you crossed the room until he was close enough to touch. His eyes looked like the sky before a storm. "You can tell me anything."

"Then why are you so fucking mad?" he said defiantly.

"Because I don't like when you yell at me like I'm just another chef in your fucking kitchen," you said, it was something you had been keeping quiet since your fight started. "I'm not getting paid to put up with this shit."

It struck Carmy completely quiet. And you regretted it the moment it left your lips. You had almost found some middle ground and you had trampled all over it. He took a step closer and stared at you, his eyes dark and angry, the space between you felt charged.

Before you knew what was going on, he grabbed you by the back of the neck and kissed you roughly, biting on your lips, mouth wide open. You pressed on his chest with your hands - you were still too mad at him. But his hands were strong and his tongue was relentless and you could feel yourself getting wet from the mixture of anger and lust - and who knew those two emotions were so close to each other?

"Fuck, I can stop," he said, barely separating his lips from yours, breathing hard. "You want that?"

You pulled on his shirt, bringing him towards you, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Then, using that same grasp, you moved him to the edge of the bed and pushed him hard, his curls bouncing as he fell on his back.

"I want you to fucking apologize, Carmen," you climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. You leaned over and trapped his wrists with your hands, above his head. Even putting all your strength into it, he could wiggle himself free at any moment, but he didn't; he stayed down and looked at you hungrily.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little too cocky for your taste, a smirk barely hidden on the side of his face.

You ground your hips against his, feeling his cock harden underneath you. He rolled his eyes and arched his neck. He looked beautiful, like a marble statue.

"What was that?" you asked, stopping your movement abruptly and getting close to his face.

He whined. "I'm sorry," and it sounded more truthful this time.

"Mhmm, that's more like it."

You kept holding both of Carmy's wrists with one hand, while the other moved downward, going underneath his shirt and playing with his nipple, massaging and pinching gently until he closed his eyes and hummed in bliss. Then you stopped.

"Fuck you," he said, letting out some leftover venom from your fight. 

You smirked - why was this so hot?

You got your answer immediately after, when Carmy got free and turned you over, fast and aggressive, like he rarely was in the bedroom. He caged you with his arms and legs, all taut muscle and shaking breaths.

"What about you?" he said, his voice low.

"What about me?" you tilted your head. "I apologized like ten times, Carm. And I meant it."

"You said some fucked up things just now," his breath tickled your face as he studied you from every angle, like he was a wild animal and you were his prey.

"I did," you admitted. You arched your neck, trying to get close and... What? Kiss him? Bite him? You weren't sure. He put one hand on your throat, not quite a caress, closing his tattooed fingers around it. You squeezed your thighs together, blood flowing with need. "I meant some of that too."

"Which part?"

"That I don't like when you yell at me," you said honestly, the moment a little cheapened with how horny you sounded.

"That all?" Carmy's voice had turned hoarse from screaming and you wished you didn't find it so attractive.

"Yeah," you exhaled.

"Good," he said dryly and got up, freeing you, but you remained immobile.

Suddenly, he yanked hard on your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare in seconds.

"Fuck, Carmy."

You hated how needy you sounded, how wrecked you felt as he licked his hand and finally put his fingers inside you, how good he was at making you crumble... You let out a pleading and pathetic sound as he touched your clit roughly and finger fucked you a little too hard.

Then, he took his fingers out without a warning, leaving you empty and out of breath; his hands ghosted the insides of your thighs. You grabbed at his wrist, begging to be touched again. Carmy climbed on the bed instead, hovering above you, kissing you ferociously.

"Eager?" he teased when you started raising your hips to rub on his jeans.

"Impatient," you replied, trying to wind him up.

It worked - his eyes darkened again.

"Hands above your head," he ordered and you obeyed. He took your shirt off carelessly, your bra was almost spilling out with how forceful he was being but he didn't bother taking it off. The whole thing was angry, urgent, and so fucking hot. Carmy was undoing his belt and you used the pause to scoot backwards, just enough to reach your bedside table.

"Hurry the fuck up!" You threw a condom at him, hitting him square on the face.

Carmy gave you a look that was half exasperation, half amused lust. He unbuttoned his jeans just enough to take his cock out, then threw the empty wrapper back at you. He grabbed your legs and dragged you closer, forcefully, the duvet wrinkling underneath you.

"I swear I'm gonna-"

You didn't let him finish. You fisted the collar of his t-shirt and brought him down to kiss, biting on his lower lip, then soothing with your tongue. You opened your legs wide and tugged at the belt loops of his jeans - there was something arousing about him being almost completely clothed and you being almost naked.

"Fuck me, please, fuck me," you begged into his mouth, way past any sense of pride you had at the beginning of the fight. Carmy wasn't any better, rushing to obey the moment you said it.

"Fucking need it," he groaned as he entered you. It wasn't clear if he was talking about you or him - not that you had time to think about it before he started pounding into you. You felt every inch of Carmy's cock as it went in and out.

"So fucking good," you rasped to the side of his face. It spurred him on and made him go faster and harder - your moans got louder and louder. He covered your mouth with his hand.

"The fucking mouth on you," he mumbled low. You clenched your pussy in retaliation and watched as he rolled his eyes and lost his rhythm. "Holy shit, you're gonna kill me."

You ran your hands under his shirt, tracing the contour of his muscles, feeling them quiver and strain as Carmy tried his damnedest to keep going, one hand on the mattress and the other keeping you quiet. Part of you smiled in satisfaction knowing he was getting tired and wouldn't last.

"Shit. Fuck me," he whined and stopped for a moment, sweating and panting. He finally uncovered your mouth, conceding defeat.

"Want me to take over?" you asked with a chuckle.

Carmy sighed and fell on the mattress beside you. "Still mad at you," he said, the sound pitiful with how hard he was breathing.

"Good to know," you climbed on top of him, straddling, lowering yourself on his cock, making him arch his back with pleasure. "I'm still mad too."

You rode him mercilessly, your hips slamming against his, hands on his chest, his eyes marveling at the bounce of your breasts. You took him right to the edge and left him hanging, the veins of his neck bulging as he groaned in frustration.

You clicked your tongue, swaying gently. "Not coming until I do."

"Yeah?" he arched his eyebrows, taking the challenge for what it was.

His hand moved from gripping your hip to where your bodies connected, his thumb finding your clit and caressing it. Your legs shook involuntarily, a spark going through you.

He grinned.

"Oh, fuck you," you sighed, your neck arched, looking at the ceiling while you bounced on his cock. He knew just what he was doing - making you tremble and moan with every gentle touch.

"Come on," he urged you, meeting your thrusts, fucking into you, hitting your G spot almost by mistake.

"Fuck," you gasped, biting your lip to stop from screaming.

You rode him much faster, something desperate and feral taking over you. Carmy's eyes widened when your walls started fluttering around his cock.

"Are you-? Can I-?" he asked in a choked out voice.

"Yes, yes," you managed to say, squeezing the wrist of the hand that was touching your clit so deliciously as your orgasm started taking over every one of your senses. "Yes, Carmy."

He tensed underneath you, flushed all over, eyes closed, and his lips forming a beautiful 'O'. You stared, waiting patiently for him to open his eyes.

He looked up at you, soft, grateful, a smile curling his lips.

"C'mere," he beckoned you downwards, meeting you with relieved kisses, breathy laughter filling the space between you. He caressed your back, tugging on your bra straps until you were somewhat covered again. The tenderness of the gesture warmed you all over.

"You okay?" Carmy asked and you nodded, nuzzling your nose against his in the process. A pause. "Hey. I am sorry. I was angry and-"

"I know," you fixed his hair, all sweaty and sticking on his forehead. "I'm sorry too."

He kissed your shoulder lovingly.

"I like you being here," he said. "I just- I need time to figure it out. That okay?"

"Yeah," you traced the line of his nose with your finger. "We'll figure it out together, baby."

You kissed him sweetly and he rolled you over to your side.

"I'll go to the thrift store tomorrow," you said, cupping his face. "Buy a desk and shit."

Carmy smiled. "I'll fix the pantry. Put labels on my shit. Make room for your things."

"I think that's the most romantic thing you've said to me," you joked, giggling when he tickled your sides.

"Shut the fuck up!"

He laughed with you, leaving kisses on your face and throat.

~

You woke up to the sound of Carmy talking in his sleep. Most of it was gibberish, quiet mumbles as he thrashed on the bed, the one word you could make out was 'Mikey' - over and over. He winced and let out a pained sound. You got closer and held him, your arm across his chest.

You knew he had nightmares, you'd been there for a couple of them, but sleeping every night with him meant you saw much more of it. It broke your heart how many you had missed, how bad he hurt...

"It's okay, Carmy," you soothed softly. "I'm here, baby, it's okay."

He woke up with a startle, breathing fast.

"Fuck, sorry," he sat up and ran his hands over his face. "Bad dream."

"I know," you waited for him to settle, giving him space.

After a while, he laid back next to you. You moved slowly, gently, touching the side of his face and caressing his hair, calming him down.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Uh," Carmy looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard, "there was a fire. Just so much smoke," he cleared his throat. "And, uh, Mike was there." There was a long pause. "Did I ever tell you he planned to set the restaurant on fire?"

"What?" you froze.

He hummed. "To cash the insurance money, you know," he reached for your free hand, intertwining your fingers and bringing them close to his chest; his heart was pounding.

"I'm sorry, Carm," you waited for him to say something but he stayed silent, vacant. "It feels so weird that I never met him."

"Probably for the better, to be honest," he said dryly. There was something dark about the way he said it.

"Hey," you squeezed his hand, trying to ground him. "What'd you like about him?"

"About Mike?" he said looking at you. "Uh- He was warm. He told the best stories, took care of Nat and me, gave the best hugs... A real big brother, you know?"

You nodded.

"Started getting tattoos because of him," he said, flexing his hands to show the ink on them. "He was so cool, and I wanted to be that."

"I think you're pretty cool," you said sweetly, kissing his knuckles.

"Thanks," he said through a sad smile. "Richie says he was all wrong by the end of it..."

"Wrong how?"

"He wasn't warm anymore, he was, uh, like a fryer fire, I guess. His stories didn't make sense. Kept forgetting shit. A mess, you know?"

"Maybe that's why he pushed you away," you said softly. You knew Carmy felt guilty for his time in New York. "He wanted you to remember him like he was before."

"Maybe," he conceded, looking up at the ceiling.

You stayed like that for a while, caressing his arm, tracing lines on his skin.

"Would you-" he said, then stopped.

You turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Would you hold me?" Carmy asked, his blue eyes open and vulnerable.

"Of course," you smiled and shifted on the bed to spoon him, his back to your chest, your arms around him, leaving gentle kisses on his shoulder blade. You could feel his heartbeat settle as he went back to sleep.

"Love you, Carm," you said right before you drifted off.

~

You woke up to the feeling of Carmy kissing your face softly. You hummed, content. When you opened your eyes, the bright light of late morning was all over your bedroom.

"Didn't hear you coming in last night," you said, your voice raspy with sleep.

"Got in late. Bad day," he raised his hand to touch your hair, staring at the way it caught the light. "Nat forced me to take today off."

"That bad?" you asked, a little concerned.

Carmy moved his fingers to the worry lines on your face, soothing.

"Not really. Someone talked about work life balance in her last Al-family meeting and she's all about that shit right now," he smiled. You loved to see how he looked soft with sleep, relaxed for a little while.

"Have I told you I really like her?"

"You might have," he said playfully, then leaned over to kiss you. It was a gentle thing, his lips lazy on yours and his body flushed as he hugged you.

You took his shirt off, not out of lust, just wanting to get more warmth from his skin on yours. You slowly started kissing his tattoos. You liked the ones on his arms and hands; they were familiar, whenever you thought of Carmy it was the image you conjured. But you loved his other tattoos, the ones nobody else saw, the secrets he kept and only shared with you. You left kisses on his shoulder and his chest, running your fingers on the ink on his ribs and right above his hip bone.

"I've missed you, Carm," you confessed.

It had been a hectic couple of weeks. You had barely seen each other, mostly just sleeping on the same bed, saying good night and good morning before each of you left for work.

"Missed you too," he replied.

His hands roamed your body, tugging gently at the fabric of your sleep shirt, helping you out of it, all while kissing you. You melted in his arms, pliant as he rolled you over and started leaving pecks on your skin.

"Carmy," you sighed. His lips left imprints on your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and your chest. He stayed there, kissing the top of your breasts, the side, the valley between them, and your nipples. Your pulse was racing and you wondered whether he could feel it with his mouth.

"You're so soft," he said, his exhale giving you goosebumps. "Smell so nice."

"You smell nice too, baby," you giggled. Carmy's hair still had a lavender-like scent from his night shower.

"Mmm..."

He kept kissing. Your belly, your hip, the wrinkle that formed between your mound and your thigh. There was something so like devotion in the way that he moved; it wasn't about filling some selfish need to get his dick wet, he wanted you to feel loved.

"C’mere," you called him back up, to kiss his lips fervently, your hands buried in his hair. When you parted, he smiled, his eyes were still sleepy. He looked so comfortable, so soft...

Your hand traced again that tattoo on his hip, then moved downward, to the hair on his navel, and lower, touching him over his boxers. He was half hard, his nose buried in your neck. When he groaned, his chest rumbled against yours.

"So nice," he said. "’m too fucking tired to fuck you like you deserve, though."

Your free hand caressed the back of Carmy's neck, holding him closer.

"Just want you to relax, make you feel good," you whispered, moving the hand on his cock back and forth, slow, loving.

He moaned, then shifted a little on the bed. You didn't realize why he was moving until his hand snaked its way inside your shorts.

"Oh," you squirmed a little at the feeling of his fingers.

"Too cold?" Carmy asked.

"No, it's okay," you leaned to kiss him. "It's okay," you repeated.

You kept on touching and kissing, everything in that sort of clumsy haze, one of your legs over his. You needed this: being with him without the rush of being late, no urgency, no fucking as fast as you could before Carmy had to run to the restaurant. You had all the time in the world - you could count the freckles on his face and stare at the blue in his eyes as he mumbled sweet nothings into the morning air.

His free hand touched your wrist, guiding it to the head of his cock, the sluggish rhythm you had set just enough to make him roll his eyes and kiss you hard, drowning a whine against your lips as he released.

"Love you so much," Carmy mumbled.

You kissed the side of his face. "I love you, I love you," your voice came out choked and high.

Without you noticing, the constant massaging between your folds had built up too. You came with a long exhale, closing your eyes for a moment, lightly squeezing his side.

"Wanna stay here forever," he said after a while of just looking at you and caressing your back.

"Just sleeping and fucking all day," you replied tiredly.

"I'd like that."

~

[Deleted Scene]

[Part 8]

~

@th3h0nkz @faephoria @wadupppp

[ew-selfish-art]

Dpxdc AU: Danny can’t fix Jason’s whole…deal… and doesn’t want to answer any questions on ectoplasm but he can get Jason to the best therapist he knows! Jason mistakes Danny constantly pushing Jazz his way as an awkward little brother move to set them up romantically- which uh, isn't necessarily a bad thing? Jazz has her own vested interests.

… heads up that this got long...

Jason ran his hands through this hair, relieving them from their previous position of cradling his face in embarrassment. Why was he sitting in a nice cafe with Danny’s redhead sister and a five dollar chai latte? For all the awkward live wire feelings he had, at least she was calm and composed. How many times had this happened already?

“So… the green stuff again?” Jazz asks, taking a sip from her own stupidly expensive drink and giving him eyebrows that beg for his explanation.

“Yeah. I was trying to get your brother to explain stuff without all the science mumbo jumbo. I just, I guess that means he defers to you.” Jason sighed, and tried to not think about how pretty her eyes were as she observed him.

“Not likely. But is the search for your answers helping you cope from day to day or making you climb an impossible mountain?” Jazz asks and it makes Jason fluster.

“It’s a moving goal post, sure, but I need answers if I’m going to fix my-“

“I think it might help you to realize that people don’t need to be fixed, they just need to grow.” Jazz interrupts.

They finish their drinks in a comfortable nonchalance, the rest of their conversation doesn’t go anywhere beyond their mutual hobbies and he’s grateful for that.

Jason's been doing a lot of introspection since this all started.

——

The first time it happened was months ago.

He confronts Danny after a mission, just wanting a simple answer on whether or not Danny thought the Lazarus pit contained ectoplasm? Could ectoplasm be separated from blood? Danny looked a little uncomfortable.

“Look dude, I know you want to know more but like, having this info isn’t going to help you. You need to talk it out.” Danny sounds sad and his eyes are filed with something adjacent to pity. It riles up the pit inside him.

“Oof. See that whole reaction thing. That’s not ectoplasmic, that’s something different. C’mon follow me.” Phantom cringes as he talks to him, and then floats across the rooftops, going slow enough that Jason can keep up on his grapple.

The arrive at a modest apartment building, not too far from his territory but clearly outside of it. Danny opens a window and slides in ahead of Jason, and all of a sudden he’s seated at a kitchen table with hot chocolate and teal blue eyes peering into his soul.

“Danny, some warning next time you’re bringing a crime boss to my apartment.” Jazz sighs and its not said with any malice or sarcasm. Danny gives her a grin and a peace sign before disappearing.

“So you want to talk about it?” Jazz turns back to him and asks.

“About?” Jason’s deep voice is going through the modulator and it sounds more sinister than it should.

“Death. Dying. The afterlife. Those are the normal things Danny brings people to me for.” She blinks.

“There’s a misunderstanding, I don’t need to talk, I need answers on Ectoplasm.” He grits out.

"Hm. Well that's not my field of study, but I can tell you that however your feeling is probably a valid response towards the trauma you've faced in life. Do you think showing yourself some kindness might lessen your desire to know the knitty gritty details?"

Jason scoffs.

"Oh. You're serious. No. I don't think being kind to myself is a valid approach to dealing with an infection that's cost me a lot of family relationships." Jason rolls his eyes. The woman looks contemplative for a moment and Jason can tell that while the dim kitchen lights are doing her no favors, she's incredibly beautiful. He pockets that information and refuses to think about it.

"So...Lets take this a different direction. Do you think successful people know what they're doing or do you think successful people need help to get where they want to go?"

"Most people are dumb and trying to get by." Jason grits out.

"So, accept that you're dumb. And then get by." Jazz replies, and then sighs and leaves the room.

Jason however, is now pissed off. Who the heck was she to say that to him?

____

The next time he finds himself across the table from Jazz, he's been on a wild goose chase with Danny and lands himself in a fancy restaurant. Why the hell was she here?

"Uh, it's called self care." Jazz replies, because apparently Jason asked that out loud. But he's not going to let this lead get away from him.

He takes off his helmet, years of muscle memory make him check that his Domino mask was in place, and sits down across from her. She raises a brow and then sighs.

"You think Danny might give me answers if I hold you hostage over, what is that, some kind of gnocchi dish?"

"Mm. Probably not." Jazz says, taking a bite and pulling out her phone.

"You're just going to ignore me then?" Jason finds himself a bit flabbergasted, he was a fucking crime lord, not someone to be ignored! Like he's just- just some bad blind date!

"Uh huh. You don't want to work on your issues and it's not my job to lead a stubborn horse to water."

"The expression is that you can lead a horse to water but you can't-"

"Can't what? Or are you still going to tell me it's not a huge waste of my time to tell you that you need to accept and forgive yourself to be able to move on. Find peace. Rest." Jazz is taking bites between her last few words but her glare remains unshakeable.

Jason is about to get up and leave when a terrified waiter comes over: "A dish, as compliments from the chef. Your guest's meal as well." He's shaking as he speaks and it makes Jason feel bad.

"Thanks." He grits out.

"...Is that the lasagna?" Jazz is looking at his food curiously, and Jason pushes it forward to indicate that she can take a bite. Probably not the safest thing for a civilian to do considering people regularly try to poison Jason but, meh. He's kind of pissed off at her still.

"It's pretty good. I was debating between that and the gnocchi- Okay let's think about this differently. You want to know about the green stuff, Danny is never going to tell a mortal about it and you keep denying yourself basic self-respect. What does your support system look like?"

"You're really pushing my buttons lady-" Jason can feel the green, but after a breath and seeing her unimpressed gaze "-I have a few friends who know what my deal is, I have an older brother who claims to forgive me, and a merry band of goons that I call my henchmen."

"Henchpeople?" Jazz asks.

"I mean, sure. That's more accurate."

"What do you do for fun?" She asks.

"I take down crime syndicates-" she levels him with another glare, he wonders why its so effective on him "-I read."

"Yeah? What genres?"

"Classics." He can admit only that much.

"Nerd. Are you going to eat any of that? You really shouldn't let food waste like that when it's not even fighting back."

"I don't know why I'm even bothering to talk to you right now." Jason spoke plainly.

"I dunno either but it's easier to tolerate you without the stupid helmet speaker. Anyway, If you like to read, hopefully that means you like to see new scenarios, new plots, stuff like that. You ever think to put yourself in side-character mode and contemplate what your whole deal is bringing to the table?"

"...How so?"

"Like, if you don't think it's worth it to treat yourself well, how do the main characters feel? Or, you know, if you were a child reading your story, what would you shout at them to move forward differently?"

"... I've decided that I only read poetry." Jason grumbles, trying to deflect with humor the fact that he does have some thoughts about what she's saying. She actually laughs at his joke though- he hadn't anticipated that.

"Uh, what is the Dr. Suess line? Stop telling outlandish tales, stop turning minnows into whales? something like that."

"Dr. Suess? Really?" Jason laughs.

"Sorry Mr. Classics, I spent most of my childhood raising my brother, forgive me for not knowing any fancy poetry." She huffs but he can tell she's laughing with him still.

They get off the topic of his mental health crisis and it turns out the Lasagna isn't half bad.

----

Jason keeps chasing Danny. Danny keeps leading him to Jazz. It goes for a few rounds before the ghost kid makes a joke about Jason liking her better anyway. Jason asks what the hell Phantom means by that, but Danny just laughs and says that Jason should just ask for her number.

...This does not sit right in his gut all of a sudden. Does he think that, that Jason is only pursuing this knowledge to keep talking to Jazz?? Does Danny want him to pursue Jazz? Does HE want to pursue Jazz???

----

He spots the Replacement in the Cave's lab before he heads upstairs to grab a cookie and leave as a civilian. The reason he even looked that way being that Tim is holding glowing green vials.

"Is that-"

"Yeah. They're literally the same except for the magic mumbo jumbo that Ra's has mixed in with the pit. Leave me alone now."

"So there is a way to heal it or, or extract it or-" Jason can feel his heart racing, but his constantly-exhausted sibling is looking at him like he's grown a second head.

"Dude. You're not gunna be able to flush it out with like, a juice cleanse. You're probably better off trying to find a magic user to deal with the curses and a therapist to do the rest." Tim looks like he's trying to be patient despite being deeply, deeply vexxed.

"Therapist- why in the hell would I-"

"I mean hasn't that been Danny's entire solution for you? He's only had one strategy the whole time he's lived in Gotham." Jason rolls his eyes.

"His solution is setting me up on dates with his sister not-"

"Dates!?! His sister is THE break out psychologist, she's done more for Arkham in the last year than decades of political reform! You've been goin on- wheez- oh my god I have to call Danny-" Tim is cackling, the lazarus water all but abandoned.

"Don't you fucking dare!"

After a (from both brothers) number of punches, a few headlocks and a large portion of threats, Jason agrees that Tim can tell his boyfriend but no one else.

Kon can keep a secret right? That's why he's the favorite?

----

"So... You and Jazz huh?" Danny looks amused as he floats by- Kon could not be trusted. The entire Justice league knows. Jason might have to die again. Apparently he said as much.

"Oh buddy, it's okay! You don't have to die again! I'm sure that if she likes you, she likes you just as you are, weird little zombie boy." Danny teases, turning intangible as Jason swings a punch at him.

"What do you mean if she likes me?" Jason asks, swinging with his grapple, trying to keep up with Danny.

"You think I read her diary or something? Weirdo. You need to talk to her about it tho, it's funny and all but I'm sure she's not a fan of the JL hot goss."

"I didn't start any of this-"

"My guy. Chill. I know, but uh, I did definitely tell her about it so... Oh look! We made it all the way to her apartment! BYE!"

Jazz is standing in the window and she looks like an absolute vision. Her glare makes him want to shit his pants however, and he knows that it's going to take all of his brain cells making contact to survive this encounter.

He sits on the fire escape when he realizes that she's not moving from her spot in the window, blocking his way. Ouch.

"So let me get this straight, you thought this whole time-"

"I thought Danny was being annoying and trying to set us up! I didn't know you were a shrink!" He tries to defend himself.

"...Why should I date an idiot?" the like yourself goes unsaid but he can hear it. Jason is scrambling.

"...I can make even better lasagna than that fancy restaurant you like." is what he lands on. Jazz bursts out a laugh.

"I was just fucking with you, but honestly what a great response." She's wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Just fucking with me?" He grins a bit, unable to stop himself from getting excited.

"Yeah, I've been telling everyone at work that I'm dating the Red Hood for like, months now. It's been stellar for my hostage record, I haven't had an issue since I started the rumor!"

"We're dating?" Jason asks, a bit bewildered but charmed.

"I wouldn't give free therapy to just anyone! Now about that Lasagna-"

Something, something, something- they seal the deal with a kiss.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #16

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.2k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

When the very anticipated notification comes in the form of a message saying 'I'm here', you wish you could be enthusiastic about it like yesterday when you went to sleep. Unfortunately, that was before you realized waking up at five in the morning is extremely tough. Especially for the person like you, and someone who went to sleep late even when your best friend was kind enough to remind you to go to sleep early.

Well, you were always known for going to sleep late and Jungkook seemed not to forget about that.

Stumbling out of your apartment building, you see him walking out of his car with a huge grin, probably finding your current appearance more than amusing.

"Good morning, baby. Ready for some adventure?" he jokes, wiggling his brows as he goes to hug you and places a single kiss on your temple.

"Morning." you grumble under your breath, poking him in the rib when he keeps teasing you with his doe eyes.

"God, I forgot what an early bird you are," he laughs, scrunching his nose in the process of his nonstop teasing. "Here let me take your bags." he says, reaching for the two travel bags you packed yesterday.

"Thanks." you murmur, following him to his new car.

Black Mercedes that he finally bought after speaking and dreaming about it for at least two years. You'll never forget the happy grin he had when he came to pick you up in his new car, showing you all the functions it has even though you barely understood half of what he was saying.

"Fuck, how much stuff did you pack?" he complains, opening the truck where he places your two bags next to his one.

"Just necessary stuff." you inform him, causing him to scoff in response. You notice the dark green camera bag in the truck and it sparks your interest. "Did you bring your camera?"

"Of course," he says, closing it shut as he walks to the driver side while you do the same, walking on the other side to the passenger side. "I gotta catch those memories." he says over the roof, making sure you see his sparkling eyes.

For the first time in the morning, you smile back before you make yourself comfortable in the seat, setting it into a more lying position.

"Who are we picking up?" you ask, silently admiring how silent the engine is when he turns it on and drives out of a parking lot.

The navigation already starts to give him directions, while he heads towards the main road. He looks cozy, especially in one of his black oversized hoodies and black cargo pants. You're not surprised by the choice of his outfit, especially the color. It's six in the morning and even though it's the middle of July, it's still chilly in the mornings. You're wearing one of your purple hoodies as well, matching it with some old leggings that won't be missed if you rip them.

"Jimin was supposed to take his car but it's too small to fit the rest of the gang. So they're going with Hoseok's friend's car and we're picking up some girls, plus Taehyung."

You shouldn't be surprised by the information that there are more girls coming on this camping trip. Jungkook told you that Hoseok's friends are going as well, but still, you're quite surprised by it. So far, there is no mention of Kiko and her possible attendance.

"Would you mind if I close my eyes for a few minutes?" you ask him, fumbling with your eyes as he picks up the speed.

The sky is painted light blue while there's sunrise around the corner. It creates a calm and nice view, especially when you're still tired.

"Not at all," he tells you, turning off the radio that's softly playing in the background. "You should rest till you can. Once Taehyung is here, there won't be any time to rest." he chuckles, leaving you giggling knowing he's more than right about that.

"Oh my god, I love this song!" Taehyung shouts excitedly, singing his heart out along with Harry Styles' voice booming out of Jungkook's car speakers.

Laughing, you shake your head at your friend who sounds really good but is still too loud, especially when you barely got any sleep. The ride to get Taehyung wasn't that long, it took about fifteen minutes to pick him up and he hasn't shut up since then.

Five minutes later, you picked up Hoseok's friends in front of some apartment building. When Jungkook got out of the car, he helped to load their bags into the truck as he introduced himself to them. You could barely hear their conversation but when they got into the car, sitting next to Taehyung, they introduced themselves.

Minjae and Seulgi. They both look like they're your age, while Minjae's hair is black and short and Seulgi has a high strawberry blond ponytail that frames her face.

And here you are.

They seem like nice girls, very communicative and they both warmed up to all of you quickly, despite the fact that they barely know you. It confirms your thoughts when Minjae speaks up, reacting to Taehyung singing his heart out at Harry Styles' song.

"Let me tell you, Harry Styles is so fuckable!" She comments with so much enthusiasm that it makes you and Jungkook laugh, her friend reacting by exclaiming her name in disbelief. But Minjae just shrugs her shoulders innocently and looks at her friend. "Don't tell me you wouldn't fuck him, if you could."

"I'm not saying that, but--"

"See?" she interrupts her friend, causing Seulgi to let out a groan which makes you laugh even more.

What you don't expect is Minjae, who's sitting behind you, leaning forward as she plops her head between your and Jungkook's seat. "What about you, Y/N? Wouldn't you fuck him?" she asks, wiggling her brows as you shake your head at her, a huge grin settled on your lips.

Glancing at Jungkook, he stares at the road but gives you a quick glance of curiosity before he turns his eyes back to the road. With even Taehyung finally shutting up, everyone stays quiet while they wait for your answer and it makes you mentally groan at their damn curiosity. But well, at least you can be honest when they ask.

"Fuck yeah." you answer, causing Minjae to squeal in triumph.

"Yah! Since when?" Jungkook speaks up, glancing at you for a brief moment and giving you a good glimpse of his furrowed brows.

"I don't know, he's pretty hot. Have you seen him?" you shrug innocently, smirking when Jungkook glares at you. Reaching for a water bottle beside your legs, the one Jungkook bought you, you take a gulp.

"He's not that hot." he grumbles, toning out the voices of Minjae in the back while she asks Taehyung something.

All you can hear is Taehyung's response. "They're dating."

You and Jungkook don't react, both pretending to be busy with driving and staring out of the window and admiring the trees. But you still hear Seulgi whisper a little 'wasn't he dating Kiko?' and a little gasp she lets out when Minjae nudges her shoulder and silently tells her to shut up.

Great, so they know her too.

When Jungkook told you the location of your camping trip is near a lake, you don't expect such a breathtaking view. You knew there'd be a lot of green around you, but you don't expect such an open space as you drive into the resort. The area is secured with a fence, which makes everything much safer and you don't have to worry about possible bears giving you a goodnight, which Jungkook reacted with a laugh telling you there are no bears when you shared your worries. The gateman that opens the gate for you is an older man, giving you a cheerful greeting and briefly explaining to you there's a nearby building where's the bathroom and little shop in case you might be needing or missing something. It's definitely different than you expected it to be, it's even better.

Everyone in the car shares your enthusiasm while Jungkook follows Jimin's directions he has sent him through voice message and drives through the road. Even when he parks beside white Hyundai, your mouth is agape and eyes focused on the beauty around you. There's a lake just a few meters away from you, with a spacious meadow with nearby trees and bright sky above your heads. You can notice a few people already unpacking a lot of stuff, including Jimin who's holding two unrecognizable packages of something with a frown on his face. His eyes briefly turn towards Jungkook's car and the frown disappears as he waves with the packages still in his hands. You wave back, laughing at his cuteness while you undo the seatbelt and wait for Jungkook to turn the engine off. As soon as he does that, you're getting out of the car just to be met with Jimin's crushing hug he gives you.

"You guys made it!" he exclaims happily, hugging you tighter before he pulls you away.

Smiling at him, you're reminded of how he likes spending his free time with friends. "Of course, we did." you grin, hearing the rest of them getting out of the car.

Jimin hugs Jungkook and Taehyung while he excitedly asks them about your ride and how amazing this place is. Well, you definitely agree with that. You notice Taehyung introducing Minjae and Seulgi to him, causing him to give them a polite wave which is a lot less affectionate than the hug he gave you. But you're all close, so it makes sense.

"Hey everyone!" Someone calls and you turn around, seeing Hoseok waving at all of you.

A round of greetings resounds from the group and you as well, hoping there won't be any negative memories with Hoseok. You know he apologized and he seems to be happy to see all of you, and you hope it could stay this way. When he smiles at you and urges everyone to follow him, he explains everything they've done so far.

"We've got four tents in total. We started to build it but the only one who seems to know how to do it, is Jimin so far," he chuckles, "But we need someone strong to bring wood for the fireplace from that building," he explains, pointing far away at the building. "Jungkook?" he asks, causing the younger male to nod as he gives him thumbs up.

"Great, Namjoon's going with you." he tells you, and your brows frown for a moment before you realize you don't remember anyone named Namjoon. It must be Hoseok's friend Jungkook mentioned.

Just as your curiosity starts working, a blond male appears while dusting his black sweatpants before he looks up and sees all of you. "Oh, hi." he smiles, waving at everyone while a cute dimple pokes out of his cheek and you almost squeal.

He's cute. He's wearing a black cap with some white shirt that's already dirty from the soil.

"Hey, Joon!" Minjae greets him, while Seulgi joins her and waves at their friend while they go to greet Hoseok and Namjoon with a hug.

"Joon, you already know Jungkook," Hoseok says, causing him to nod while he grins at your best friend. "This is Taehyung and Y/N." he introduces you and Namjoon waves at the both of you again, smiling at you while you do the same.

"It's nice to meet you." you smile at him.

"Likewise," he grins, "How was the ride?" he asks, eyeing everyone.

"Cool, we enjoyed the view so much!" Minjae answers.

Just as Jimin calls Taehyung to help him build a tent, while Hoseok starts to give instructions to Jungkook and how he can help, you don't notice another person coming along this trip. How could you, not until the person suddenly comes in the view holding a few packages of what seems like a marshmallow.

"Hey everyone!" she calls, but even you can tell she's trying to sound too cheerful at the sight of everyone being finally here.

Automatically, your eyes go to Jungkook who spots her and recognizes her voice immediately, his own widening at the sight of his ex-girlfriend.

"I brought these ones instead of the blue ones." she explains, her eyes shifting to Hoseok who nods.

"That's fine! These ones are better anyway," he waves, causing her to nod as she places the packages at the top of some plastic box.

Hoseok goes back to talking to Jungkook who nods understandably, but you know he's just trying not stare at Kiko who occupies herself with helping Minjae and Seulgi, trying to build a tent by themselves.

"Y/N, right?" You hear a few meters away from you, Namjoon glancing at you with the same friendly smile. You nod, smiling back at him politely. "Can you help me with this one?" he asks, trying to figure out which part of the tent is right.

"I don't think I'll be much help, but I can try." you joke, already walking towards him.

"That makes two of us." he jokes back, causing you to giggle.

Maybe this camping trip won't be as tense as you expected it to be. It's definitely awkward seeing Kiko here as well, but everyone seems to be cool and chill about the fact two exes are about to spend their weekend together.

But are you and Jungkook going to be?

[captn-trex]

a little while longer

Hunter x F!Reader

word count: 4.1k

description: your job keeps you away from pabu, your home, more than you would like, but when you return after weeks away, there's a certain someone eager to make you stay for good.

warnings: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, all that good stuff, wet hair hunter !!!

a/n: been sitting on this for a little while and finally finished it lol, I'm pretty proud of how it turned out in the end. also I realised after that pabu's beach might not be sand....... just pretend it is okay

You brought your ship out of Hyperspace and sighed delightedly at the sight of the swirling blues of Pabu's surface. It was always such a wonderful sight after a long stretch of selling.

You owned a small vineyard on Pabu, though of course none of your customers from other areas of the galaxy knew that's where you operated from. The drinks you made were your main source of money, but you also owned a small wine bar on Pabu. Most of your time was taken up by travelling to other star systems and selling your wares, but your favourite times were spent back home, talking with customers across the bar.

As you entered the upper atmosphere, you were greeted by the wonderful orange and pink hues of the sun disappearing over the horizon. You quickly sped down to the surface, eager to watch the sunset from the town square as you often did when you were back.

When you set down your ship, you saw the flash of blonde hair as the young girl you had grown so familiar with rushed across the square. You smiled at her eagerness, and barely made it out of your ship before you were attacked at the waist by her crushing hug.

“You've been gone for so long!” Omega whined, “You've never been away that long before”

“It was only a few weeks Mega” You told her, but she still wasn't pleased.

“How long are you back for this time?” She asked, her eyes wide and shining up at you.

“I'm not sure” You ruffled her hair with tight lipped smile.

She groaned as she let go of you, “Alright, well I guess I should just make the most of it then”

“That sounds good to me” You smiled down at her as she slung her arm around your waist, pulling you in the direction she knew you'd be going.

Ever since the Bad Batch had arrived on Pabu, you had spent a lot of your time with Omega. For whatever reason, she was very interested by your work, and she often came to help you with some of the more simple parts of the process. She was fascinated that you could create such a mind-altering beverage just from simple fruits. She always wanted to try some, but she was many years away from an acceptable drinking age, and so you had to crush her dreams every time you said no. You thought that she probably continued asking because one day you might just break, and sometimes it felt like that. Her hopeful smile was just too precious, and the look of dismay that followed denying her a taste was enough to make most people do as she liked.

Omega let go of your waist to pull you down onto the ledge by your forearm, a little too close for your comfort but you knew she was smart enough not to fall off.

“Careful Mega” You reminded her anyway, and she rolled her eyes.

“I'm always careful” She said, shuffling closer to you so that she could rest her head on your shoulder.

“I know. Doesn't stop me worrying though” You sighed, leaning your head onto hers and pulling her in with your arm around her back.

“Maker, you're as bad as Hunter” Omega mumbled, earning a chuckle from you.

“Can you blame him? Chaos follows you wherever you go”

“That's not my fault” Omega shrugged.

“Hm, I'm not sure about that… but if you insist” You replied, and both of you settled into silence as you watched the sun setting.

The pink clouds circled and danced around the orange glow, and a deep red was bursting from the horizon line. As the sun sunk lower and lower, the air was filled with a haziness that only came on beautiful summer evenings such as this. It was still warm, a little light and people still moved about in the town, but the lack of wind made everything seem stationary, like a picture, a frame, frozen in time.

“You should get home” You mumbled to Omega, feeling calmed by the serene atmosphere.

“Probably” She sighed, and lifted her head from your shoulder to look at you, “Why don't you come with me?”

“I'd love to Mega, but I should be getting back to the bar really” You told her reluctantly. You had told the person working you'd be back before sunset…

“Awh, come on, just this once? You can come and see Hunter” She grinned up at you and you rolled your eyes. You had made the sore mistake of letting slip the nature of your feelings towards the Sergeant, and Omega saw it as a perfect opportunity to try and play matchmaker. “I'm sure he'd like to see you” She added.

“Yeah yeah, in my dreams right?” You chuckled, and held your hand out to help her up as you stood.

“You know, there's nothing stopping you from just telling him how you feel” She said matter-of-factly, looking up at you with her hands on her hips.

“Well, for now I've still got to go back to the bar. I'll see you tomorrow kid” You smiled at her, and she waved you off before running back home.

You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you walked in the direction of your bar. It was located down a small street, almost tucked away, but the people of Pabu all knew where it was, those that drank wine anyway.

You approached the building, flower baskets adorning the windows and metal chairs and tables outside, a few people sitting there and enjoying the last traces of light. You brought your lighter from your pocket and lit the candles at the tables, the people smiling appreciatively and welcoming you back to the island.

You absolutely loved it here. You hadn't lived here your whole life like many of the other islanders, but when you had arrived around seven years back, they took you in as one of their own. Everyone was exceedingly friendly, and your dream of running an orchard and wine bar was quickly taken up when you had mentioned it in passing to Shep. A lot of people had pitched in, and you would never be able to repay them for that.

That was partly the reason you spent so much time away, because you couldn't possibly cover the cost of running your business just through the wine bar and the sales you made on the island. There simply weren't enough people. Truthfully, you wished that you never had to leave at all.

“Heya Lenny” You smiled at the man currently working the bar.

“Hey boss, looks like you're late again” He smirked, knowing what had kept you.

“Sorry Len, you can go home now, I've got it from here” You chuckled, setting down your bag behind the bar.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, go spend time with that lovely husband of yours” You smirk at him, the emphasis coming from the newness of the title, as they had only got married a month prior.

“Alright, don't threaten me with a good time” He laughed, untying his apron and leaving out the back door.

You settled yourself behind the bar, looking up at all the bottles of wine that adorned the back of it. You smiled, looking at the labels from years gone by, as well as the new additions. You could honestly say that you were proud of yourself for how far you'd come.

“I heard you were looking for me” A voice spoke from behind you, and you instantly knew who it was. You turned towards the front of the bar, and met the soft brown eyes of your favourite customer.

“Who told you that? Wait- let me guess… Omega” You chuckled at the young girl’s attempts to get you two in the same space all the time.

“Oh, you weren't actually looking for me?” Hunter asked, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“I wasn't, but it's nice to see you anyway” You smile.

“You too. When did you get back? You should've come said hi” Hunter leaned on the bar.

“Only as the sun was going down, I had to get back here anyway” You shrugged, brushing past his comment, “What can I get you?”

“Oh nothing, I was only coming to see why you were looking for me” He backed away from bar a little, “I'll leave you to it”

“To what?” Your eyes sparkled with amusement, casting a glance around the empty bar.

Hunter chuckled a little at the realisation, clearing his throat, “Right, sorry”

“Come on” You grinned, grabbing a bottle from a few years back off of the shelf, as well as two glasses. You held them up as you moved from behind the bar, heading outside, “Have a drink with me?”

Hunter smiled, following behind you, “Sure, why not”

The customers that were here when you got back had since left, so it was just the two of you when you sat down at the table outside. It was quiet as you set down the wine glasses on the table, and poured a sensible amount for both of you. You swirled the deep red liquid in the glass and took a sip, smiling as the different notes hit your taste buds.

Hunter watched you with interest, inspecting the way you enjoyed the drink. He took a small sip from his own glass and swallowed thickly to get it down his throat.

“So” You began, crossing one leg over the other as you looked to the clone across from you, “What's been going on since I was away?”

Hunter began going over everything he could think of that happened, which didn't end up being too much. Pabu was peaceful, nothing catastrophic ever really happened, not counting the sea surge that you still jokingly blamed the bad batch for bringing with them. He recounted how Omega had been doing more flying, and that she was pretty much better than him, Wrecker and Crosshair combined by now. He talked about his brothers so fondly, and you loved to listen to it. The way his mouth curled at the edges as if he was trying to surpress it, the creases at the edges of his eyes giving it away. It was clear to you how much he cared for them all, how he still felt responsible for them, and it always warmed your heart.

“And you? How have you been?” You asked, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

He chuckled breathily, “Yeah I'm fine”

“Just fine?” You arched an eyebrow at him subtly.

“Good, then. I don't know” He shrugged with a small smile.

You shook your head a little. You had told him before that he thinks of himself far too little, so you knew he knew what you were getting at.

“Sorry, I've just been rambling on, what about you? How were your travels?”

A sigh escaped your lips before you gave it permission, “Fine, as always”

Hunter knew you didn't like leaving. You had once drunkenly regaled him with all of the worst tales of your travels, an unfortunate memory your mind replayed often at night when sleep eluded you.

“Did something happen?” He asked.

“No, I'd just rather not have to do it”

“Why do you? Couldn't you get someone else to do it?”

“I wouldn't want to subject anyone else to it, and besides, I've gotta pay the bills somehow” You said with a tight smile.

“I'm sure Shep wouldn't mind helping out in some way” He suggested, but you shook your head forcefully.

“I've already taken too much from the people of Pabu”

Hunter could see the guilt written on your face as plain as day. He wished he could reach out and ease the crease that formed in your brow whenever you were reminded of how much had been given to you in your time on Pabu. You found it hard to accept help, Hunter had learnt that the hard way, but he could never find the right words to express just how much he felt you deserved. He would give you the galaxy if it was his to give, but that was far to obscene to just say in passing.

“It's fine” You blinked a few times, “The time I do get to spend here makes up for it”

Hunter offered you a sympathetic smile, “Omega misses you a lot when you leave”

You chuckled, “That sentence alone makes me want to never leave again”

Hunter huffed a small laugh, understanding completely what you meant. He, along with everyone else, had a hard time saying no to the small blonde clone. The only person he had seen handle saying no to her well, was you.

After a moment of silence, he spoke what was on his mind.

“I miss you when you leave too”

You just took a sip of wine and tried not to react in any sort of way, but that was always more difficult around Hunter, who could sense just about anything, any changes in your body.

“Yeah, I- I miss you too, all of you” You tried to act casually about it. Hunter smiled kindly and your eyes flicked away briefly.

“You not enjoying this one?” You asked, pointing to his almost untouched glass of wine

“Uh…” He scratched his neck, “To be honest, I don't really like any wine” He said cautiously and your mouth dropped open, “Sorry”

“You don't need to apologise, but… Hunter you've been coming here for the better part of a year, and you don't even like any of the drinks we sell?”

“Well… I wasn't really coming for the drinks” He said with a small smile stretching across his face.

You just looked at him puzzled, but he waited for you to figure it out, “I-” You frowned deeply, looking at him and trying to understand, “I'm confused”

He chuckled at your cluelessness, “I only come to see you”

“Oh” You said quietly, almost dumbfounded.

“Yeah, you're either always working, or away, so… I have to take what I can get”

You suddenly felt alive inside.

“I… I would have hung out with you if you had asked”

Hunter cocked his head slightly, looking vaguely amused, “I did ask”

“Well, I didn't know you were serious” You said, your cheeks heating up a little.

“I'm always serious” He replied, earning a laugh from you.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek for a moment, just watching him, and him watching you. He raised an eyebrow slightly as if to ask what was going on in your head. Truthfully, you didn't know.

You then stood up quickly, “Let's get out of here”

“What?”

“There's no one here anyway, let's go to the beach” You said, drinking the remainder of your wine and grabbing the other glass and bottle.

“What's at the beach?”

You shrugged with a grin, “I guess we'll find out”

You're body felt like it had been electrified as Hunter helped you take the tables inside, and your hands were almost shaking as you locked the door. You never did anything spontaneous, especially not nowadays, and the prospect of taking the evening as it came felt exhilarating. You were positively buzzing, maybe from the wine, but mainly from the nervous energy bubbling up inside of you.

Hunter could sense it. It was the strangest sensation, it's like your insides were trying to escape you, pent up with fizzing electricity, like static.

“Race you there?” You smirked up at him, and quickly ran off in the direction of the beach.

Hunter let out a surprised laugh, and for a moment just watched you sprint away from him, his smile taking over his face. He darted after you as you rounded the corner, not necessarily caring to beat you there, but just to engage in your sudden spontaneity.

The wind was whipping at your face, sending your hair flying behind you as you winded around the cobbled streets. You hadn't felt so free, so youthful, in such a long time, and it was nice to indulge in such a feeling.

When you reached the beach, you slipped off your shoes and sunk your toes into the sand. The sensation was strange but familiar, something you hadn't done for years. The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon now, and the moon was shining proudly, casting a gentle blue light over the waves.

Hunter came to stand beside you, an intrigued smirk curling the edge of his lips. You looked up him, and couldn't help but mirror his expression. He could see the glimmer of mischief in your eyes and waited for whatever idea you had to unfold in front of him. Though, he was wholly unprepared when you grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it off.

“Woah!” He stepped back slightly, “Uh… What are you doing?”

“Going swimming” You said simply, unbuttoning your trousers and tugging them down.

Hunter's mind was reeling. One minute you were standing next to him, looking up at him innocently, and now here you were, walking away from him in only your underwear. He couldn't help but let his mouth hang open a little.

You turned to look at him from the edge of the water, “Are you coming?”

The moonlight illuminated the edges of your silhouette, your smirk undeniable even in the low light. Hunter was frozen, the sight in front of him making him breathless. As you turned your body towards him, hands on your hips with your brow arched questioningly, he gulped.

He didn't say anything, but he slowly reached back and took off his shirt. He didn't take his eyes off of you as he unbuttoned his trousers and left them in a crumpled pile with the rest of the discarded clothes. You bit your lip a little, turning back to the ocean and stepping into the water.

It was freezing, and you shivered violently, a small gasp escaping your lips. You waded in, getting used to the temperature, until the water came up to your mid-thigh. You heard a hiss as Hunter followed you in, and looked back at him, a genuine smile on your face.

“How are you in that far? It's kriffing freezing” He grumbled, moving away from the shoreline.

You laughed at him, “What's that? The big bad Sergeant can't handle a little cold water?”

The teasing look on your face was enough to make his knees fold in on themselves, but he kept a calm exterior as he shook his head and stepped into the water again.

“I'm not so bad, am I?” He said in reply to your mocking remark, finally reaching your position.

“Hm” You hummed, arms crossed over your chest, “That remains to be seen”

Hunter's eyebrows raised slightly, looking down at your teasing expression with a smirk. The longer he looked at you like that, the more you cracked, your confident streak fizzling out. He could feel your heart beating faster each second, and saw the light dusting of a blush across your cheeks, and his smirk faded into a more sincere smile.

“Come on” You nodded your head out to sea, “There's a place I want to show you”

You then dove into the water, submerging yourself completely. You broke the surface after a few moments, swimming out into seemingly - to Hunter - the open ocean. After a minute, you got to the rock that jutted out just above the water level, and hauled yourself onto it. Hunter followed after you, reluctantly at first as the freezing water chilled him to his bones, but seeing you sat atop the rock, body glistening in the moonlight, he soon forgot all about the temperature of the water.

Watching Hunter pull himself out of the water was unlike anything you had ever gazed upon. The moon cast a light on the drops of water that ran down his toned body, making it glitter, and highlighting every muscle as it moved to push himself to sit next to you. His hair was pulled down by the weight of the water, the pieces around his face falling over his eyes so that he had to push them away.

You couldn't look away. He was gorgeous.

His chest was heaving as his eyes found yours, both of you out of breath from swimming. The air between you felt different, charged with unspoken feelings that were quickly becoming apparent. Hunter's gaze was serious, a small crease in his brow as he looked at you.

“I don't want you to leave again” He admitted quietly.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away from him. There wasn’t really anything you could say.

“I don't want to either” You confessed, your shoulders slightly slumped.

“Then don't” He urged, and you tilted your head back to him. He looked at you with such longing, his eyes slightly wide and swimming with emotion. He reached out and gently placed his hand on your cheek, “Stay with me”

Your breath caught in your throat, “I can't promise something like that Hunter”

“Why not?” He asked softly.

“I-” You began, but hesitated when Hunter brought your face closer to his.

“Why not?” He asked again, looking so deeply into your eyes that he could be looking at your very soul.

“I- I don't know” You stuttered out, mesmerised by his gaze.

Hunter smirked, “Exactly”

He then immediately pulled away and slid back into the water, swimming towards shore faster than you could possibly keep up with.

“Hey!” You shouted after him, entering the water once more and racing after him. He stood in the shallows as you approached him, but before you could ask what that was all about, he scooped you up into his arms. His hands found themselves under your thighs and he pulled your body towards his, making you let out a small squeal at the sudden and unexpected closeness.

“You're going to stay here, on Pabu. I'm going to make you” He claimed.

“You're going to make me? How do you intend to do that?” You asked with a smile, feeling giddy from his words and the feel of his strong arms holding up your almost bare body.

“Like this” He mumbled before his lips crashed into yours.

The kiss was passionate, so much more so than you were expecting. It was a perfect climax to the tension that had been building all evening, possibly all year, finally bursting and dissipating. His lips moved against yours with an urgency, his plea for you to stay echoed by his actions. He held you close to him, one arm snaking around to your back as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You deepened the kiss, your hand finding itself lightly tugging on his hair at the base of his scalp. He groaned quietly as he devoured your mouth, his teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip. After a short while, you broke away to catch your breath, the kiss feeling like it had taken your very lungs away.

“Well, that was certainly convincing” You grinned, pulling a laugh from Hunter.

He pressed his forehead into yours, his gaze becoming more serious, “If I do it again, will you stay?”

You sighed slightly, but the look in his eyes made you feel like everything in the galaxy was right, exactly how things were right now, with you in his arms. It made you feel alive, and the intense urge to finally do something self-indulgent brought your answer from you.

“Yes” You replied in a whisper, “I'll stay”

His hands gripped you tightly as he brought his lips to yours again, and you completely lost yourself in the sensation.

The feel of his body against yours, his lips on yours, his tongue on yours, were enough to make you want to stay forever. You could figure out the problems this would bring later, but for now, you were eager to get a taste of what the rest of your life could feel like.

[onboardsorasora]

Maybe Max is new to his neighborhood and hears about his direct neighbor, Daniel but never sees him. Realizes he sees lights in the townhouse next door at very random times but no one else seems worried.

Their mutual neighbour Vicky checks on the house for Daniel often. Because he apparently keeps weird hours. She feeds is fish for him.

Anyway he's heard a lot about this guy, the neighbors at their end of the cul de sac love him, even though he's often absent. And they take care of things for him. Daniel's lawn never gets unruly, and someone takes in his mail for him. Max wonders just how safe it is for so many people to have a key to your home. Especially if they know you're not there. They always talk about seeing him and Max can never say hes had the pleasure.

It's probably almost 3 months of that when Max gets home late one evening from a night out. He sees a lone lamp light on in Daniel's house and the front door is open. Max is on alert.

He goes to the house, slowly. He has Vicky on speed dial but it's like 1 am so he'll assess then call the police if anything. He goes up the stairs and pushes the door open, there's shuffling upstairs- definitely the sound of someone rummaging.

Max is no hero, he calls the police. Fifteen minutes later and there's a patrol car. The officer that gets out, Esteban, doesn't seem too worried about the situation. Which makes Max annoyed because he very clearly stated that the robber person was still in the house.

Esteban walks to the front door, doesn't even draw his gun.

"ki Ki ki" he calls out, weirdly. Max furrows his brow in confusion

"rraaa rrraa!" Calls from inside. Esteban chuckles and enters the house, Max follows him.

"Danny, you left your door unlocked again. Your neighbor is worried." Esteban reprimands up the stairs.

"ah shit. Right. My bad." A sharp accented voice groans then there was the sound of rapid footsteps down the staircase. A man jumped onto the bottom landing and Max swallowed thickly.

A tangle of curly hair, framed a hot face pulled back in a chagrined smile. Corded muscle bulged as he rubbed the back of his head. He wore a dirty tight blue shirt and large, navy almost cargo pants that Max recognized as those from a fireman.

His hot neighbor was a fireman.

"Sorry about all the trouble. Thanks for like looking out though." His neighbor, Danny, greeted, sticking his hand out for a handshake. Which Max took.

"oh it's- it's no problem. Can't be too safe y'know? I'm Max by the way."

"Daniel. Sorry we're literally meeting like a thief in the night or whatever. Vicky told me you'd moved in, but we've been short shifted at the station." Daniel explained and Max blushed that Vicky had updated Daniel about him.

"are we all good here? I'm gonna tell dispatch that you're buying a box of donuts for the night shift." Esteban teased and Daniel groaned again

"I'll remember to close the door!" He called when Esteban left.

"I take it this happens often?" Max asked and Daniel blushed.

"too often," he grumbled. "When I do a double or triple I tend to forget that doors aren't like self closing outside of the station."

Max snorted, he could see the problem.

"I hope I'm not coming off as creepy or anything but do you wanna like get some coffee? After I've maybe slept for thirteen hours?" Daniel hedged and Max smiled.

"We can have it at my place." Max offered and Daniel grinned back.

"Sure."

[siilvan]

bloodsport – V

prologue | one | two | three | four | interlude

characters: vladimir makarov

summary: after a talk with price, you decide to make a risky move. keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

genre: angst, slowburn, enemies to ?, fem!reader (callsign: petra)

warnings: semi-proofread, cursing, mentions of canon-typical violence, makarov's usual bs

word count: 4.3k

note: a very sincere thank you to everyone who sent support and waited so long (a month) for this update :') not super proud of this ngl, i'll try to make the next chapter better and sooner lol

"something to confess?" price utters, brows furrowing as he stares you down with a confused look.

you wring your hands together, feeling the perspiration on your palms even through your gloves. "yes, it's about makarov—"

what's left of the building around you rumbles, pieces of the wreckage crumbling into smaller pieces and falling apart. price tears his gaze from you and glances around before patting your shoulder.

"whatever it is can wait. we need to get out before the rest of this collapses on top of us." he says while turning away and motioning for you to follow, graves and the shadows already starting to move ahead. you huff to yourself and jog after him, sticking close to his side until you reach the sizeable breach that he was leading you to.

you try in vain to talk again once the team is safely outside, but graves speaks up the second you go to open your mouth.

"we need to find where they moved that control center," he says, one of the shadows nearby already grabbing his radio – communications expert, you realize after a moment. "i'm wiling to bet it's still in the city, probably a smaller base."

price nods to graves from where he's standing next to you. "might be in an entirely new spot. tell the squads to keep their eyes peeled." he looks at the communications expert at the end of his warning, directing it at him, and gets a thumbs-up in reply.

"captain, i—" you start, before getting interrupted again.

"we'll discuss this after the mission, lieutenant." price mutters, giving you a tight-lipped smile. "i promise."

you bite your tongue and try to swallow down the lump in your throat, giving him a confirmatory nod of your own. the team moves on from the derelict building, with graves and his shadows splitting off after one of the strike teams radios about a suspicious spot. price and you end up assisting the bravo team with the second-largest base; for once, you're happy to see enemies in a location.

most teams clear out their sectors without much issue, securing canisters of chemical gas and weapon caches, but the supposed nerve center isn't anywhere to be found.

after hours of searching under the scorching sun, price and graves come to a mutual agreement: cut your losses and extract with what you did manage to get your hands on.

the flight back to base is quiet for the most part. everyone's too exhausted to fuss over anything, allowing you to sit in relative peace as you debate on what to say to price. the intel from makarov – the mole within your group – replays in your head over and over again, adding to your ever-growing level of stress. if anyone notices your leg bouncing practically the whole ride, they don't comment on it.

you're chasing the captain to his office the moment you touch down, pushing the heavy door shut behind you as his eyes fall on you.

"never seen you this frazzled, lieutenant." price remarks with a soft chuckle, moving to rest against the front of his desk with his arms loosely crossed over his chest. "what's bothering you?"

you blink at him, the words that you've been wanting to say suddenly dying on your tongue. you want to tell him, you really do, but what will he think of you? what if he takes you off the team for this? brands you as a traitor for working with the enemy?

"petra? y'okay?" price asks, leaning towards you.

you wave the question off and clear your throat. "yeah, i just, uh..." you trail off, before taking in a deep breath and exhaling slowly, resigning yourself to your fate. "i've been getting intel from makarov."

shock briefly crosses price's face before it returns to a somewhat neutral expression – alarmingly neutral. you know the look, you've seen it a hundred times.

he's calculating his response.

"it started when i was captured," you stutter out, trying to explain. "it was just the information on shepherd at first, but then he showed up at my apartment after you sent me home— there's a mole in our team, whoever it is put a tracker on my phone, and now shepherd knows that we're onto him—"

"lieutenant." price interrupts, his voice as cold as the ice in his stare, shutting you up with little more than a startled whimper in reply.

he pauses, his jaw tight. you stare at him, wide-eyed and waiting for a furious response, but when he speaks again, his voice is soft.

"tell me everything you know. everything."

you draw in another breath and nod your head slowly. "one of the new recruits – someone who arrived recently – is working for shepherd, keeping tabs on us. his men are targeting the one-four-one; after the building collapse, one of them tried to sneak up on me. makarov found him before i did and took him out, but—"

"wait, he was there?" price all but growls, his arms falling back to his sides as his hands clench into fists against the tabletop.

you nod, again, shrinking under the barely-kept tension rolling off him in waves. "i didn't know he'd be there, it wasn't planned," you say, gaze falling to the floor. "but, he's not important right now. what is important is stopping shepherd before he uses the conflict in al-mazrah and urzikstan as an excuse to start a global war."

price doesn't reply at first, but you can see the gears turning in his head. evaluating, scheming, doing what he does best. a painful beat of silence passes between you, prompting you to speak again, uttering words that will earn you a medal, a grave, or life behind bars.

"makarov's given me intel before, captain. he has eyes in places that we don't, more resources than us, more freedom to act—"

"petra—" price cuts in, but you keep talking.

"—if you let me go undercover," you pause, staring into his eyes, searching for approval in his gaze. "i can get the information we need and act on it. shepherd, makarov... we can eliminate them in one fell swoop. i'll use makarov's resources, then take him down from within his own group. we can't do this clean. the gloves need to come off."

you step closer to him, lowering your voice to a quiet murmur that hardly reaches him. "you said it yourself: at the end of the day, somebody needs to make the enemy scared of the dark."

price clicks his tongue before shaking his head, an amused chuckle tumbling from his lips. "this is risky, you'd be inserting yourself right into his inner circle," he comments, tilting his head at you. "do you really think you'd be able to fool him?"

"he's already offered me protection," you say. "i'll figure out a way to gain his trust." you add, grimacing.

"normally i wouldn't approve something like this, but... for whatever reason, he seems to want you on his side. we might as well use that to our advantage." he concedes, earning an affirmative hum from you.

"i'll give him a response, then. you won't regret this, captain."

⋆⋆⋆

"i'm surprised you've called so quickly." you can hear the amusement in his voice after he answers the phone. "have you come to a decision?" makarov asks.

you let your eyes flutter closed and inhale deeply through your nose, hand clenching and unclenching at your side.

"i have." you reply after a long moment. "are you really wiling to offer me protection from shepherd?"

the grin on his face is evident despite you not seeing it. "i am. all you have to do is help me kill him."

you stifle a surprised laugh. "you're asking for a miracle like it's a small favor." you mutter, to which he sighs, heavy through the speaker.

"i'm confident in your abilities, lieutenant. i will arrange a meeting point and send you the coordinates and time. don't be late."

"punctual. i look forward to it." you respond, sealing your fate as you end the call.

once again, just as you return, you're departing again. you haven't stayed anywhere for longer than a day since escaping the prison, and yet, here you are, preparing to deliver yourself to the maw of the beast. it's almost poetic, just how quickly you've leapt back into danger after weeks of wanting nothing more than to get away from it.

true to his word, you receive a set of coordinates and a time from makarov shortly after the conversation. the only goodbyes you give are rushed words shared with the captain before you take off in an unmarked helicopter, leaving behind promises to explain the situation to those who matter and to get you home as soon as possible.

the location isn't anything of significance, that you're sure of as soon as the helicopter touches down. it's a road just outside of a quiet city, unassuming aside from the sleek black car that sits pulled over to the side. as soon as the gravel crunches under your boots, a man emerges from the vehicle to greet you in a gruff murmur of your callsign. you nod once, unmoving from your position, studying the man as he remains still several feet in front of you.

dressed in painfully normal clothing, a black shirt and a pair of dark weathered jeans, you almost think he's a civilian until your eyes find the patch hastily stuck onto his sleeve, the annoyingly familiar snake skull curving around his bicep as if to taunt anyone who sees it.

he's a mercenary, no doubt. probably someone makarov hired to handle the work his soldiers are above – like this.

as you follow the man to the car, settling in the backseat as he sits in the passenger and vaguely motions to the driver, you briefly wonder just how large makarov's forces are; how far does his influence reach?

you're also left curious about the lack of soldiers. a sign of trust, perhaps? you doubt it, but he's not a man whose decisions are easy to understand. maybe his goal is making you question every little thing that he does, forcing you to stay alert until you exhaust yourself and he has the chance to strike.

the car pulls back onto the road, leaving you to stare out the window as it travels away from the city. the forest surrounding you isn't terribly dense, but enough so that you have to squint to see anything through the passing trees. the winding road heading steadily up a mountain makes it no easier; you searched the coordinates during the flight and saw nothing of significance in the area...

where are they taking you?

the man mumbles something to the driver, catching your attention despite not hearing what he said. the response he receives is in russian and, again, words that you miss due to how quietly they're uttered. once the trees start to thin, however, you assume the sight ahead is what they were discussing.

a villa. a grand one, at that. it's not far from the city, you glance at your watch and time the drive as a half-hour, but the location is secluded, sitting on the cliffside overlooking the population below. it's gated, with armed guards staring the vehicle down as it approaches the entrance; like a stronghold, a private residence barred from any unwanted visitors or influence. it reminds you of las almas, of el sin nombre's villa.

the sun starts to set behind the villa as the car passes the gate and comes to a stop in front of it. the door next to you is suddenly pulled open, yanking your focus from the building as you meet the eye of the soldier, clad in a dark uniform and balaclava, staring you down while holding the door open.

wordlessly, you climb out and narrow your eyes at him, watching as he slams the door shut behind you. there's something familiar about him, but you can't quite put your finger on it.

as his eyes meet yours, it clicks.

"are you the guard from the prison?" you ask, his tired gaze bringing you back to your imprisonment. it's barely been a day since your escape, and yet that place – the injuries that left you in near-constant misery, the prying eyes watching you, the all-too-kind doctor, the other doctor, your enemy being the only person you could even begin to trust – it all feels so distant, despite being so recent.

the soldier huffs, scratching the side of his jaw through his mask. "i have been a guard in many prisons, you will have to be more specific."

you cross your arms tightly, his voice becoming more recognizable as he speaks. thick accent, perpetual disinterest worn like a badge, treating you with indifference despite not walking away.

"i hope the trip wasn't too difficult, lieutenant." a voice pulls you away, making you turn your head to the side as a "friendly" figure emerges from the set of doors nearby. makarov regards you with a small smile, something akin to pride and a more sincere emotion – relief? – glimmering in the dark recesses of his gaze.

you shrug, standing stiff when he stops in front of you. "i think the trip was the easy part." you mutter.

"you underestimate my sense of hospitality," he chuckles, taking in your fatigued state. "you've had a long day, i'll keep the tour brief tonight. i'm sure you have a lot of questions, hm?" his head tilts to the side for a second, emphasizing the question at the end of his remark.

his behavior is… unexpected, to say the least. you were expecting cold apathy like you experienced in captivity, but instead, makarov seems eager to have you here. you're sure it's all part of a plan that you're unaware of, bigger and more important than yourself.

"that's putting it lightly." you reply, walking two paces behind him when he motions for you to follow him inside. the masked solider follows you after a nod towards makarov, accepting a silent order from his commander.

the interior of the villa is equally as extravagant as the exterior— your breath catches in your throat as your footsteps echo against the tile floor, eyes flitting to the art dotting the walls and the furniture that you're certain costs more than your apartment.

"it's all a bit excessive, don't you think?" you murmur, sending a glance to the man in front of you.

makarov hums, hardly sparing his surroundings any attention. "i think it's fitting," he says, leading you to an elevator. "konni is not like the other crude, second-rate paramilitaries you've encountered, petra... we have a goal, organization, leadership—"

"—that leader being you?" you chuckle, stepping into the elevator and facing him. makarov waves the soldier off and presses one of the buttons on the wall, leaving you alone together when the doors slide shut.

"do you doubt me?" he asks, brows furrowing. "need i remind you who is shouldering the burden of protecting you?" he adds, leaning closer as his voice lowers just slightly. you recognize the look, the intent behind the way he moves closer, forcing you to take a step back to create some distance.

"let's get one thing straight," you mutter, trying to keep your tone steady despite your back meeting the wall. "i don't need protection because you're any better than me. you just give me the freedom i need to move against shepherd without putting my squad at risk."

you pause, wetting your lips, before opening your mouth to continue. any words you planned to say leave you in a short breath as you're literally cornered in the small space, though, blinking at the man in front of you. makarov holds your gaze, amusement clearly written on his expression as his arm lifts, caging you in with a tight fist on the wall next to your head.

"you need me, petra. that is what matters." he leans closer still, shifting to rest his forearm against the wall instead, his lips twitching up in a crooked smile. you try to avert your eyes, to stare at the wall past him, but his other hand comes up to stop you with a firm grip on the sides of your jaw, keeping your head still. "i strongly suggest you find it in yourself to cooperate instead of fighting me. this is a very unique opportunity for us to help each other."

"you..." a frustrated sound escapes from you, only serving to encourage him to tighten his hold, leather-clad fingertips digging into your skin. you need to gain his trust if the plan you discussed with price has any chance of succeeding. we get dirty, world stays clean. killing shepherd is the mission; makarov comes later. play your cards right and you can take out them both.

"fine... i guess i owe you civility, at the very least." you concede, one of your hands shooting up to grab his wrist. "just get your hands off me." you grumble with a pointed glare.

makarov's hand retracts before the complaint even fully leaves your lips. "clever girl. you've made the right choice." he murmurs.

he moves away as the elevator reaches the floor and the door slides open again, immediately revealing a corridor dotted with soldiers – some conversing, some standing guard, others approaching the elevator as makarov steps out with you in tow.

"we'll have time for a proper tour later. in the meantime, if you need help navigating the grounds, any of my men will be happy to assist." he says, marching ahead.

"don't have any more room in your busy schedule for me?" you utter, trailing behind him.

he rounds a corner and keeps walking. "not at the moment, unfortunately." you arrive at a door, where he turns to you once more. "i have matters that require my attention, otherwise i would stay longer. i've arranged a place for you to sleep. i suggest you rest tonight. once we have the general's location, you will be needed."

you nod, admittedly taken aback. "i'll... do that, then. thank you." you stutter out.

"don't mention it." he says, already backing away from you and heading back down the hallway. you try not to stare as he disappears from your sight, intentionally fixing your attention on the door he led you to.

so eccentric, you think.

⋆⋆⋆

you let out a contented sigh as you pull your shirt down over your head, standing in the middle of the sizeable bedroom after your shower. a glance out the window tells you what time it is before you even check— the sun set over the horizon about an hour ago.

when you pick your phone up off the nightstand, there's a message from price waiting for you.

status report? 19:05 pm

you look to the door, debating on a response.

all settled in. nothing significant to report yet. 19:15 pm

good. keep your guard up. 19:15 pm

laswell got into contact with alex earlier. potential base in verdansk. 19:16 pm

need me to handle it? 19:16 pm

no. focus on makarov for now. we'll take care of it. 19:17 pm

copy. good luck. 19:17 pm

save some luck for yourself. stay sharp. 19:18 pm

you shove your phone into your pocket and send the door another look, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. makarov said he would be busy, but... there's something telling you to seek him out, some horrible feeling bubbling in the pit of your stomach. you have a lot of questions and very few answers, things weighing on your mind that, to your chagrin, only he can ease.

"fucking fantastic," you say to the empty room, shaking off the feeling and heading out into the corridor. after getting directions from a handful of soldiers and a short elevator ride, you find yourself up on the penthouse floor, standing in front of the set of doors leading to his personal office.

you knock before you have the chance to psyche yourself out, three short taps in quick succession, your shoulders rigid until you hear an "enter" from the other side.

when you step in, letting the door softly click shut behind you, makarov lifts his head from the papers on the desk in front of him. you don't move immediately, standing with your back pressed against the smooth wood, your eyes flitting around the neatly-kept space before meeting his.

before you can say anything, he lifts a hand to stop you, bringing your attention to the phone next to his ear.

"i don't care about the weather, alexi," he mutters into the speaker, his focus never shifting from you. "you are leading a group of soldiers, not children, they can handle a storm. communicate the old-fashioned way if you're so worried about signal issues." he continues.

you awkwardly linger in your spot, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. his jaw tenses as his gaze narrows, and for a moment, a small part of you worries that the ire might be directed at you for intruding at an inconvenient time.

"i can come back," you whisper, hand already reaching for the knob behind you.

"stay." he replies, making you freeze. "no, not you, сволочь— just deliver the gas according to the schedule. i won't accept anything later than that." he grumbles into the speaker before hanging up the call and dropping his phone onto the papers, sighing heavily and moving to rub the fatigue from his eyes.

gas? as in, the chemical gas you saw in al-mazrah?

"pleasant conversation?" you tease, earning a pointed glare.

he stands from his chair with a soft groan. "what are you here for?"

you step further into the room, watching as he circles around the desk to meet you in the middle. "not sure. care to educate me on the gas you were talking about, though?" you smile, folding your hands in front of yourself.

makarov eyes you down, scrutinizing you, but gives in after a brief staring contest that you arguably win.

"after we succeed in urzikstan and the kremlin realizes what must be done, we will move on to their allies." he begins, speaking slowly. "my soldiers are making the preparations as we speak, planting it within each target nation."

as he continues, that prior feeling returns tenfold, and you mutter, "the gas used in al-mazrah and vondel?"

he nods, unchanging, even as your expression freely gives away the unease and anger steadily building under your skin. "exactly that. this is just the first step."

there's an emotion on his face, something haunting that makes your chest tighten. total apathy, as if the consequences of his actions mean nothing to him. they don't, your reasonable side is well aware of that, but the sheer wrongness of the situation nags at you, pushing you to try to prevent it in whatever ways you can.

"okay, i know you don’t care about innocent lives being lost," you start, crossing your arms over your chest. "but, i do. i'm not going to stand by and watch you destroy the world over some... bullshit hunt for glory! if you use that gas, i'm backing out." you assert. he steps back from you, creating a comfortable distance.

"i thought you were here for a reason, petra. unless, you've changed your mind?" makarov asks with a curious lilt, turning to face away from you.

your arms drop to your sides as your hands clench into fists. "we both know how deadly that gas is – it can kill millions. i'd rather take my chances with the government than assist you with that."

makarov hums in acknowledgement, standing in front of his desk now, and you watch as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey and empty tumbler sitting near the edge.

"are you seriously pouring yourself a drink right now?" you pause your rant, positively fuming while he pours the liquid into the glass. is this all some kind of fucking joke to him?

"i find it easier to listen when i have a drink," makarov replies. he produces a second glass and fills it up, before turning back to you. "but, you do raise a fair point, lieutenant. these plans can be delayed a little while longer." he says, holding it out to you in offering.

you take the glass slowly, confused. "just... like that? so easy?" you hesitate, distrustful— for good reason, too.

the amber liquid swirls in makarov's glass when he moves his hand, dismissing your concerns. "there are still steps between now and then. having you as an ally is far more important in the present."

"wh... just like that?" you parrot, gawking at him when he hands you his glass and walks past you, heading to the door. you spin on your heel and stare at the back of his head as he twists the knob and swings the door open.

he barely acknowledges you when he waves over his shoulder, again, dismissing it. "don't spend too much time on it. focus on the situation in the present."

as he disappears into the corridor, leaving the door to the very private room wide open behind him, you're completely dumbfounded. you came to him for answers; instead of getting that, all you have are more questions.

focus on the situation in the present.

it just sounds like a long-winded way of saying, "direct your anger at anyone but me."

from a tactical standpoint, it's hard to disagree. you're allies with this man, even if it is temporary. no matter how harsh his methods and unreasonable his beliefs, you'll have to learn to tolerate it. your eyes fall to the untouched glasses in your hands, then to the desk behind you, and finally back to the door.

"what the hell have i gotten myself into?"

translations:

сволочь (svoloch) - bastard

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⋆ feel free to ask to be added to/removed from the taglist! (18+ only please <3)

[myrmica]

mer my dear mutual mer i would like to ask you how do i get into lifesteal

HELLO FARLANDS!! you've come to the right place. Step into my office.

this is an interesting question with a variety of different answers. a lot of the time people seem to direct you towards videos rather than stream vods, which does makes sense, because they're more accessible and the barrier to entry is definitely less daunting.

but lifesteal videos aren't episodic, they're designed for a viewer to be able to jump in with little to no context at any moment. they throw a lot of information at you fast as hell, and events spanning hours and hours of footage are condensed down in ways where most of the meat gets cut off. i have a hard time absorbing information from or remembering what happens in lifesteal videos because of the editing styles... i don't claim that this isn't in large part a taste thing, but in videos you miss the complicated character moments, and the sense of pacing/chronology, and all of the things that happen that don't translate well to video logic. and you don't get to see (as much of) the dimension of things where the fact that everyone is trying to make videos can be character and story relevant information. all of these things are what make lifesteal season 4 my favorite minecraft roleplay ever in the world. i guess i would say that i do like lifesteal videos, but mostly in relation to the livestreams.

all of which means that while pretty much any lifesteal video ever produced can make for a perfectly serviceable starting point, it doesn't really get you any of the things about lifesteal --i-- care about. and you're asking ME. So.

what is the deal with lifesteal in general?

you probably know at least some of this already, but for the sake of the thing:

lifesteal is a server based around a mechanic where, upon killing someone, you gain one of the hearts off of their health bar up to a maximum of 20. if you lose all of your hearts you're banned, but this is temporary and players can be revived. it's also a server where you're free to steal and destroy builds to your heart's content, and people toy with breaking the rules they do have often. so it naturally follows that lifestealers are generally interested in pvp, and have a social system where the most important relationships are your teammates, who come before basically anything else. lifesteal IS roleplay but it isn't scripted, and what they mean by unscripted is that the outcomes of a conflict can't be predetermined, because that would defeat the point—if something goes wrong, it goes wrong. (and hopefully, it goes right for somebody else.)

why season 4?

short answer, because it's the one that has the guys i care about in the situations i care about. the long answer is at 9k words and not even close to done yet so you're gonna have to wait a bit on that one.

the medium answer: while you could go back and watch through season 3 in detail, or try to just start watching season 5 and keep up with stuff live as it happens, that's not what i did. i have it on good authority that the mer guide to lifesteal season 4 works, because i did that, and also because my friend whose initial reaction to lifesteal was "wow this subz guy is loud..." and then radio silence for months has since sat through 30 hours of princezam building stream of his own free will. see review below:

lifesteal can be sort of an acquired taste. i think a lot of the time it either clicks for you or it doesn't, or you have to see the right thing and then suddenly the appeal starts making sense.

luckily, the aftermath of zam betraying mapicc & ro in season 4 tends to have this effect on people, and it's a good jumping in point! i didn't actually start watching season 4 chronologically, i started by bouncing around the last couple weeks of the season and quickly discovering that it was bonkers fucking crazy and i needed to know more about this "eclipse federation" thing... so i don't really think knowing how it ends makes it less fun to watch, and if you wanted to just poke around at random and see what's up i wouldn't stop you. i went back and sat through everything between that aforementioned betrayal and the end of season 4 chronologically after i already knew how things ended up and it's thoroughly enjoyable that way. maybe even better than the alternative, because you're less likely to get caught up in how frustrating some of it can be. but if you would rather know as little as possible going in you can definitely give it a shot, and i do think there are parts that are probably even more fun if you don't know what's coming.

how do i do that though?

and here is my gift to you. when i watched through season 4 all i had to go off of was the vod archive spreadsheet, which is great & wonderful & awesome & the best thing ever, but it does kinda just have you clicking links blindfolded if you don't already know what's going on.

so eventually i started keeping track of vods as i watched, in a google doc. it has clips and/or timestamps and summaries for basically every vod in the second half of season 4. it's a little embarrassing because it records a bunch of my initial reactions to stuff but c'est la vie. it's also 85 pages long (it was 105! i edited my notes down!), but again you can jump around to get a lay of the land if you want, and how much stuff you skip is completely at your own discretion. have at it.

[amymbona]

I'm so obsessed with the idea that Patrick will have a daughter, not a son! but a daughter. And I need to read something abt ex-husband! Patrick and their daughter again. Saw ur bot in character.ai, but I need something more on this topic, 'm dying 😭😭

Patrick is hundred percent a girl dad, that's an iternationally known fact! I was almost convinced that I posted some headcanons about girl dad Patrick but I can't find it anywhere on my tumblr, so maybe it was just a dream. 😟

Despite Patrick being quite a reckless prick, you're always sure she's safe with him. He can be a bit messy, you're well aware, as you used to be a frequent coordinator of his messiness, but with your daughter, he could earn a master's degree in cautiousness. It's almost surpising to you, how clean his place is and how beautiful of a room he has made for daughter there, with pink walls and a princess bed, all to ensure his daughter gets the treatment she deserves.

Sometimes, when you drop her off and catch a glimpse of the pristine marble counter in his kitchen, you get very doubtful of your own job as a mother. It's not like you're poor, no, but with Patrick being a successful and now retired tennis player, he's able to afford whatever you have times three. And for that reason, you're afraid your daughter would tend to gravitate towards him. After all, you work a lot and aren't able to buy her all the toys she'd like (you'd be able to, if you accepted all the money Patrick has generously offered you over time, but your own pride doesn't allow you to) and Patrick is basically a stay at home dad, constantly present and showering her with gifts.

This is a thought that you've managed to keep safe from the outside world, mainly from Patrick. Despite him being allowed to see his daughter at any time, her permanent residence is your place, and after the divorce you've been assigned as her number one guardian - a mutual agreement between Patrick and yourself, as you both know the little girl needs her mother's presence more - you're still too afraid that the moment Patrick sees you fall behind, he'll attempt to gain full custody over her. And that would be an absolute stab in your heart.

Each time you drop the little one off, he notices you disheveled appearance and offers you to take care of your daughter for a day or two longer so you could get some rest. He even offers you money again, so you don't have to work your ass off and stay at home with your daughter instead. But again, you reject.

"At least come inside," he insists, bouncing the little one in his arms.

"No, Patrick, I have stuff to do," you reject his offer with a shake of your head.

Patrick rolls his eyes just subtly enough so your daughter wouldn't notice. "Don't be stubborn. I'll make you some tea."

So you do come in, finding yourself absolutely unable to oppose Patrick. In full honesty, you're too tired to fight him, feeling like you could fall asleep even when you're standing on your feet. The last couple of days have been rough and you simply weren't able to get enough sleep.

"I'll go make it," Patrick announces, his voice much softer as his hands are now free and your daughter runs in the direction of her room.

"Okay," you nod, unable to offer even a simple smile and follow your daughter. You've only seen her room at Patrick's about two times, but that was about half a year ago, and your curiosity gets the best of you. "How about you show me what's new in your room?"

"Yes, yes!" the girl's little hand slips into yours and she drags you behind herself with the force of a horse, probably having inherited that after her father. "Daddy got me a new lego house last time. Come, look!"

You follow the little bundle of joy into her room, a gasp leaving your mouth when you see the little princess chamber Patrick has transformed it into. A pink canopy bed sits in the centre of the room, surrounded by an uncountable amount of toys all over the floor, various houses for her Barbie dolls lined up by the wall. A giant teddy bear is occupying an armchair in the corner, where Patrick probably sits when he reads her bed time stories, and little stars that presumably shine at night are hanging off of the ceiling. This is nothing like the excuse of a room she has at your place. This is way better...

With a yawn, you drop down on the bed, the soft mattress creaking under the weight of your body, while your daughter begins excitedly showing you all the outfits she put together for her falls, explaining how this one is meant for a casual walk and that one will be worn at a Barbie winter ball. Her eyes are glowing and she's clearly in her element, constantly pulling your attention with look, mommy! from one gift to another. She has everything she'll ever need in here.

The distant noise of the running kettle fills your ears as you lower yourself down, knees curling up by your chest as the bed clearly isn't made for someone your size. But you're really fucking tired at the moment and just need to rest for a while. While your daughter plays, your eyes follow all the goods in her room, eyelids becoming heavier and heavier with each passing moment. Perhaps if you close them for just a few seconds, it'll get better.

Just few minutes after that, Patrick's curly head peaks through the door, a cup of black tea in his hands. "There you go, now we can- Oh."

The sight in front of him is something he would have never expected to see in a million years, his ex wife, evidently absolutely worn out, funnily curled up in the toddler bed and snoring softly. It's pitiful, and at first, he wants to laugh and make fun of you for being so pathetic. But then it hits him, like a dagger straight through his heart, that you're really fucking exhausted.

Patrick squats down by the bed, eyes settling on your beautiful face, so pale and almost lifeless. It hurts him to see you like that and he doesn't have the heart to wake you up, deciding that even if you don't suit the surroundings at all, you deserve to stay asleep as long as possible. So he gathers the bunched up princess blanket and places it over your back gently. With a small, partially guilty smile, he smooths the blanket down and presses a kiss to the side of your head.

"Come on, princess," he gets up with a small pat on his thighs and walks around the bed to scoop your daughter into his arms. She's so similar to you, a little reminder of what he has lost. "We're gonna let mommy rest."

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Flufftober Day 8 | Dancing in the rain

Pairing | Best friend!Loki Laufeyson x Best friend!!Avenger!Female!Reader

Word count | ~ 850 words

Summary | Both you and Loki decide to make the best of a rainy day. He starts the day off with breakfast in bed, and you decide to bake him a pumpkin pie in the afternoon. When you suddenly get the idea to dance in the rain with him, something shifts between you, and you can't keep your hands off one another.

Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Best friends to lovers, mutual pining, breakfast in bed, dancing in the rain, implied shower sex.

Prompt(s) | 8. Rainy day

Request | Anon: Can I request a lazy rainy day with loki and female reader? 😍😍

A/n | This one shot is written for day 8 of Flufftober 2023. Thank you for this sweet request, Nonnie! I dream of spending a day like this with Loki, so I'm happy to have worked on this. I hope you will all enjoy it as much as I did when writing it 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡

Divider is made by @cafekitsune | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Loki Laufeyson Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist

It is genuinely an autumnal day outside, with the rain falling heavy on the windows, the wind blowing trees in every direction, and it is cold out. Luckily for you, you're working in the kitchen to make a treat Loki has never had before: pumpkin pie.

The morning started nicely, even though you were rudely woken up by knocking on your door. Loki decided to bring you breakfast in bed, and you weren't fazed that he was wearing sweatpants and a tight shirt, which is the complete opposite of his usual Asgardian leather clothing.

''Mornin' Darling,'' he says with a small kiss on your temple, a little routine the two of you have built over the years you've known each other. What started as short, small pecks turned into lingering kisses and hugs, and sometimes, you two even slept in the same bed.

There's nothing wrong with that in and of itself if it weren't for the fact that you both have feelings for one another.

''I think I know what I want to do this afternoon,'' you suddenly said after Loki popped a strawberry into his mouth.

''And what would that be, Darling?'' Loki looks up at you expectingly.

''I'm going to bake you a pumpkin pie since I think it's a real shame you've never tasted one. It is one of the most amazing desserts on this planet, and since the weather is dreadful, it's the perfect opportunity to bake something!'' you said, and Loki was almost as enthusiastic as you were.

Keyword being almost, because your baking skills haven't always proved to be the best.

''Alright, if that's what you want to do, I'd be more than happy to try some of your pumpkin pie,'' he says before feeding you a strawberry, too, maintaining eye contact the entire time.

And that's how you found yourself in the kitchen, preparing the filling for your pumpkin pie. Loki silently observes you as you dance to the music you put on, and with each movement, he can feel himself falling more and more in love with you.

By the time the pie is ready to go into the oven, Loki has set up the living room to watch a movie together, a blanket, snacks, and your favorite Halloween movie ready to go.

''C'mon, we can probably watch about half the movie if we start now,'' he says, but when you look out the window, you suddenly get a better idea.

You stretch out your hand, and when he puts his in yours, you feel a warmth flowing through your body you can only describe as nothing but love.

''Trust me, it will be worth it,'' you tell Loki, who believes you, following you outside in the pouring rain.

''There's one thing I've always dreamt of doing: dancing in the rain!'' you scream at Loki so he can hear you through the pouring rain, and without a second thought, you dance like your life depends on it, not a single care in your mind right now.

All you know is you, Loki, and the rain, and he quickly follows suit as he busts out some odd dance moves he probably learned in Asgard, making you laugh uncontrollably.

''Loki, can I confess something?'' you say as you stop to dance. ''Because there's one more thing I've always dreamt of doing,'' you say, finally having found the courage to bring it up.

''Always, Darling,'' he says.

You walk over to him, and in the pouring rain, you wrap your arms around his neck, your lips crashing onto his in a kiss that takes your breath away in the best way possible.

His hands pull you closer by your waist until there's not a single inch left between you two, and it feels like you're in a romantic comedy, the moment feeling perfect.

When Loki pulls away, you chase his lips, and he gives one more small peck before telling you all about the feelings he's had for a long time now.

''I have to tell you how much I love you, how much I am in love with you. Every single time I see you, my heart skips a beat or two, and when we talk, I never get bored of talking or listening to you, and not a single moment is ever boring with you,'' he says, and your eyes light up at his words.

''I like how you look at people like they're all so precious, and you talk to everyone with love and care; it makes everyone feel special. But there's no one more special than you, Darling. And if you'll let me, I want to show you just how special,'' he says, a glint of mischief showing through.

''Please, Loki. I want you to show me,'' and within no time, you're both in the shower, and he has you pinned between himself and the wall as he makes sweet love to you, telling you how much he loves you and how perfect you are.

But most of all, he tells you what a good girl you are for him.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.6

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

»»»

masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

»»»

The inside of the embassy looked much like the outside let assume.

Fancy furniture with tasteful vases and decoration, wallpaper-covered walls and paintings hanging on them. A big mirror placed across from the entrance hall caught their attention, seeing themselves in it when entering. Their eyes lingered on their reflection a little longer. They looked like actually belonging there along with the other guests.

Taehyung gently guided her to the direction string music was heard from, following the other attendees inside. As they entered the ball room, she let the blazer fall from her shoulders, returning it to him.

"So, what's the plan?" Cassandra whispered, eyeing everyone around them eagerly as he put it back on. "Eavesdropping on a diplomat? Observing the guests? Keeping track of the security? I counted five guards nearby so far."

He chuckled at how serious she was taking her role, flattening the collar of his shirt. "First, I have to meet the guys. They sneaked in my gun, so I gotta get it from them."

Right, made sense. He couldn't have sneaked it in with the metal detector at the entrance.

"Oh okay, and what am -"

"You'll take your seat at our designated table and wait, okay?" Before she could even revolt, Taehyung tapped his in-ear and pivoted towards the back of the room only to disappear in the sea of well-dressed people.

Cassandra huffed, taking a handful of tulle into her fists before trotting to the direction of the tables at the side. The invitation said she'd be at table 16 and soon she spotted the card with the number. And the place card with her fake name on it.

Ms Cassandra Vasques. A fake research scientist in the medical field.

At least the field of profession wasn't so far off. Probably chosen on purpose by Jimin to minimize the potential of her blowing her cover. A medical researcher was easier than pretending being an international lawyer or engineer.

With disappointment spreading inside her, she took a seat and propped her chin into her palm. As if her insecurities hadn't been enough, now she was left to sit there alone like a loser. Besides, she could swear the old lady in her dark blue dress sitting at the table next to hers was scrunching her nose at her. Great.

Cassandra's arms instinctively folded in front of her in an attempt to cover the décoleté, although she could spot some other ladies with similar deep necklines or daring side-cuts while still managing looking classy.

She dragged a breath when sensing someone approaching her. A waiter from the look of his red vest and the silver tablet he was holding.

"May I take your order?"

"Red wine and.. and any cocktail you have with blue curacao, please." The waiter rose a mildly startled brow but only gave her a bow before leaving again.

If she had to go through this night feeling like a fool she might at least enjoy herself with a cocktail. She rarely got to drink any, so might as well tonight.

The drinks arrived soon and she immediately took a few sips of the deep light blue drink. Contently wiggling her shoulders when tasting the sweet-sour taste.

Unsure if much time passed or she simply drank too quickly, something she tended to unfortunately despite a cocktail's high alcohol percentage, her drink had eventually reached the lower half of the glass.

She felt a light buzz taking over, her mind beginning to float lightly and a sheepish smile plastered over her lips as she observed the people dancing to the string quartet's music in the dimly lit ballroom. Making her head sway to its rhythm, mimicking their movements.

She wasn't drunk, nor really tipsy. She had only begun to loosen up a little when she decided to take another sip before checking her make-up, just in case. The small pocket mirror in her purse coming in handy, she noticed that of course some of the the brownish-red lipstick had faded by now and she attempted to fix it with the lipstick she'd bought, when the reflexion of something black appeared behind her. Her eyes narrowed and in a mindless move, she turned her head and let the lipstick disappear back inside the purse.

Taehyung was standing behind her, having returned and now glancing down at her with a soft grin on his face. His hand stretched out towards her.

She looked at it suspiciously, making him laugh under his breath.

"May I have this dance?"

Cassandra shrugged, not try hiding she was sulky of him abandoning her among strangers. All her social awkwardness she thought she'd left behind in university, resurfacing after all in an unknown environment.

"Sure, but I have no clue how to dance."

Taehyung noticed her sullen mood but decided not to go into it and instead make up for his, admittedly, unpolite behaviour.

"You're lucky I don't mind you stepping on my feet."

Somehow this along with his boyish naive smile managed coaxing out a small laugh from her after all and her expression softened. Usually she wasn't so fast in giving in, but he made it easy.

Eventually, she placed her hand in his bigger one and let his fingers close around it and Taehyung gently pulled her up from her seat. Leading her through the crowd, until they reached the centre of the dancefloor. A clear vision of the band playing on the stage. Along with a clear sight on the French embassandor. Cassandra looked behind her to see what he was looking at and recognised the man. She hadn't attended totally unprepared after all, having looked up photos of him and his wife online, remembering Taehyung's task - which naively enough also in some way felt like hers, too - to keep an eye on the embassandor and warn the others if he attempted to leave and go upstairs.

Another couple bumped into her, not paying attention while dancing and she redirected her focus on Taehyung. He held her hand firmly, his other arm loosely wrapped around her waist. Pulling her closer in the narrow space, to prevent her from bumping into another person. And Cassandra swallowed at the almost non-existent gap between their chests.

"You have something.. there." He gestured to the corner of his lips and she frowned for a moment before realising she must've smudged the lipstick when seeing him behind her. And she cursed under her breath because of course, her clumsiness just never gave her a break.

"Wait, I -" She attempted to let go and get her purse but his thumb was already wiping off the faint smudge and she paused startled. Her eyes blinking rapidly. "T-thanks."

He nodded, his hand going back to holding hers as they began to move among the others.

"I really don't know how to dance, I wasn't joking," she mumbled embarrassed as she felt her feet almost tripping with every move, glancing up at him with an apologetical smile. He only breathed out a chuckle and she felt her skin tingling where his hands were laying on her. 

"Just follow the rhythm." His mellow voice almost drowning in the soft melody around them.

It was so strange. Like a fever-dream. Swaying with him among strangers who were most likely by far more important and wealthy than her. She felt like Cinderella. A poor maid in disguise at the king's ball, dancing with prince charming himself.

And as they kept moving, her body following his eloquent moves, she felt the tingle develop into a burning, spreading on every inch of her skin like wildfire. And she wasn't sure if it was the liquor, opening her blood vessels on its surface, or the warmth of his touch that caused it.

There had always been an attraction simmering under the surface for Taehyung, she couldn't deny that. It'd been there four years ago when she'd first met him and it'd still been there over a year ago when meeting him again.

However, Cassandra had never dared to see him as more than a friend before, knowing it would've been pointless with their vastly different lives.

But moving along his lead under the sparkling lights of the dimlit room in such close proximity along with the palm of his hand leaving her waist to lay flat right at the ribbon on her lower back, made her feel deezy.

Right now, her mind had completely shut down and all she could hear was her beating heart putting her skin on fire and all she could see was his dark irises, getting lost in their depth - along with that damn lonely curl on his forehead.

She was an internist. She knew the neuro-biology behind attraction, inflatuation, sex and even the feeling of love.

Neurotransmitters, hormones, endorphines.

At the end, it all came down to serotonine, dopamine, β-endorphine and noradrenaline.

She also knew, however, that this cocktail of messengers alone would only cause a feeling of happiness, lust and content, no deeper feelings. It was humans themselves putting meanings into them. And right now, Taehyung was causing her neurological system to have a complete meltdown.

His hand slid off from her lower back then and he stepped back, making her spin before stepping in and catching her again. And she held her breath for a moment before giggling, seeing an equal amused glint in his eyes. His hand finding her waist again. "Would've never guessed you'd be such a good dancer," she teased. Her natural response to distract from her flustered face.

He shrugged non-chalantly, spinning her again. Her giggles making him smile while he glanced above people's heads. Spotting the embassandor talking with other guests next to a pillar at the side.

"Picked up some moves at all these sleazy parties we attended."

"Mhm, to dance with all the pretty girls I see.." she grinned.

He only breathed a laugh, his attention back to Cassandra. Sensing her hand gliding from his chest to his back. Briefly brushing over the pistol grip that stuck out from the waistband and pressed onto his lower back under the suit jacket.

A slower song began playing and she leaned her head against his shoulder to rest her - surely alcohol-induced - spinning head. And they began moving slower. His breathing hitching along with their movement.

Her eyes closed then and she let herself take in the feeling of Taehyung holding her in his broad arms like this. Forgetting completely where they were and why. For just a minute, she wanted to be in a bubble of her own instead.

Taehyung smiled to himself, pressing his cheek against her sweet-scented curls.

The bare curve of her back fit perfectly under his fingertips and he wondered if that was even possible or if he just made things up by now. Like the aching in his chest and the cloudiness of his mind at the feeling of Cassandra's delicate body swinging in his arms.

"No, you're the only pretty one so far."

His thoughts mindlessly slipped out of his lips, not meant to actually be said out loud. And the thief realised he had to snap out of whatever this was he was letting himself get lost in.

They were only there as a cover so he could keep an eye out for the job.

And moreover, Cassandra was a friend. A dear friend. One of those friends you didn't need to see every day to know they were there. A friend who, no matter how much time apart, it would always feel like not even a day had passed by since the last time you'd joked with them. No matter how far away, they still cared for you. And you for them.

That was the kind of friend Cassandra was to him. A special one. He knew, after all, that a friendship like this wasn't a given. Especially considering his busy and beyond legal life.

So no, he couldn't allow himself to feel anything beyond that. He couldn't allow himself to dwell or surrender to that looming feeling. Or the way his chest contracted irregularly when sensing her fingers fisting his suit jacket when hearing his words.

Cassandra's heart skipped a beat at his warm breath brushing over her ear and she swallowed. She wanted to believe she knew him well enough to know he'd never say something ingenuine, he wasn't the type to wrap others around his finger just for fun.

"Glad my dress is 'fitting' enough," she quietly joked, reciting his previous choice of words to ease the sudden tension between them. His chest vibrating against her cheek.

"Mh, green is my favourite colour."

Her eyes fluttered open at this and she slightly heaved her head to look at him.

"You're lucky, then," she smirked, "If it was available in blue or red, I'd have chosen them instead."

"Huh." His lips shaped a small grin. "Are these your favourite colours? Blue and red?"

"Mhm, and their pastel shades."

He nodded, licking over his suddenly dry lips. "Yeah, I can see that. Emeralds, sapphires, rubies.."

She faked offence with a pout then to keep herself from blushing. "No diamonds?"

For a moment, he simply stared at her dark-frame eyes, mesmerized and perhaps a bit bewitched by their intenser look that night. "Diamonds are awfully common, they wouldn't suit you," he said matter-of-factly as they danced in a circle. The song changing into a more up-beat one. "They just became popular thanks to good PR."

Her lips formed a small 'o'. "Really? I didn't know that." Intentionally dismissing the subtle compliment between his words - unsure if she could handle herself otherwise - she was surprised by this information, seeing him nod.

She hummed then, looking away for a second before giving him an amused smile.

"Wow, what good promo can do. So no diamonds then.. good thing I was never a big fan of them anyway."

His brows rose, not having expected that as most people were, thanks to aforementioned advertisement.

"No?"

"No, though there's one exception.."

Now he was intrigued. "And what would that be?"

Her lips curled and she bit back a cheeky grin. "I wouldn't say no to a pink diamond like the Pink Panther."

At this Taehyung couldn't help but burst out laughing with a chesty sound. Of course she'd be referring to a classic heist film, he thought. His head falling back before he tried containing himself as a few people around them already glanced in utter bewilderment at his sudden amusement.

Flashing her a square grin then, still chuckling. "A pink diamond would suit you indeed."

Cassandra smiled contently and placed her head back onto his shoulder. Feeling her cheeks warm. "Thank you."

His glance left her then and instead wandered up, looking around in the sea of important people and to the direction of his main person of interest. Only to freeze, coming to an abrupt halt.

The embassandor was gone from his spot and nowhere to be seen.

Dammit, he wasn't able to spot him.

Cassandra frowned, mirrowing his expression. "What h-"

"Come," he said in a stern tone and tugged at her hand. Rushing out of the crowd. "I lost sight of him," he explained over his shoulder when reaching the spot he had last seen him at.

Her eyes widening in mild panic as well, now also frantically looking around.

With quick steps, he held her close to him as they left the ball room. His eyes intense and it worried her, the last time she'd seen that expression on them was when they'd been chased through Barcelona half a year ago.

He scanned their surroundings, his eyes seemingly a shade darker and he tapped his in-ear transmitter then. "Guys? Stay alert, I lost sight of him."

"What?" Jimin's raised voice was heard from the other line. "How? Weren't you paying attention?"

"I-" He briefly peeked at Cassandra. Feeling disappointed in himself for acting like a noob and letting himself get distracted. "I shortly lost focus," he eventually muttered.

"Yeah, can imagine with what," his friend chuckled then and he felt his cheeks turning red.

"We're almost done," Yoongi spoke up then, "Just make sure he isn't entering his office in the next ten minutes."

"Got it."

According to the blueprint, the office was in the second floor, at the end of the left corridor. Right there where Jimin and Yoongi were located at right now.

He took a last glance into the ball room, ensuring he hadn't missed him.

"Can you see him?"

Cassandra shook her head. "No, but I can see his wife. Wait."

Before Taehyung even realised she had left his side, she was already walking up to the embassandor's wife, a blond woman in her forties in a deep lavender-coloured dress currently holding a martini while chatting with another woman. Only when he saw her green dress flowing a few metres away from him, he realised what she was planning to do. His eyes widening, about to run after her and hold her back when the blonde turned and smiled at Cassandra. The three women began to chat away for a moment. Cassandra giggling at something the brunette woman in the blue dress said, bowing at her before walking back to him.

Already spotting Taehyung's inquiring look. "What did you-"

"Her husband apparently lost his cufflink and went to replace it with another pair in his office. He's supposed to deliver a speech in fifteen minutes and didn't want to do it without it."

"How did-"

She shrugged, cutting him off. "I just introduced myself with the fake name and explained my work in the medical field. The other woman was the leader of a women's health organisation, I recognised her. So it was easy to strike a conversation. Then I casually wondered where the gala's host was and she told me."

His lips parted, taken aback by how smoothly she obtained the information, almost reminding him of the other smooth-talker he knew, Jimin. However, something else caught his attention then.

"Office you said?"

She nodded.

Fck.

He slid off his suit jacket, wrapping it around her shoulder. "Wait outside for me, okay?"

"Wh-why? Where are you going?"

"Saving their asses."

And with that he ran off, leaving her back. Again. If she didn't know better she'd have thought he was Cinderella and it was close to midnight.

Holding his blazer tightly, Cassandra went back to the ball room, passing by the dancing crowd and towards their table where she picked up her purse before making her way out of the stuffy atmosphere. Past the foyer with the big mirror which she intentionally ignored and exiting the building, the cool night air hitting her heated skin.

- Heated from the drinks and the heat from so many people in the room of course.

At least there were also other guests lingering around there. Some only now arriving, others gathered in small groups for a smoke.

She held the suit jacket closer to herself when she felt several pairs of eyes on her, stepping more to the side where she hopefully wouldn't gain any attention. And she waited.

Usually, she wasn't someone who liked being in the dark, but she understood this wasn't a common situation for her. Her only role was to get Taehyung in, nothing else. She was supposed to stay out of trouble. So she tried actually listening this time and simply let him do his job.

However, after awhile she felt bored and didn't know what exactly to do with herself, so she observed other guests when suddenly faint pop-sounds echoed above her.

She glanced up, unable spotting anything out of the ordinary that could've caused it. It seemed like nobody else had heard it though, most likely due to the loud background noises of chatter and music.

Minutes passed and she grew more impatient while waiting outside in the chilly air, another sound being heard then. This time it was a creaking from around the corner.

The young woman tensed, again no one else but her having heard it. Sparkling her curiosity once again, she turned around the corner only to be almost hit by someone landing right in front of her on the grass. And she squealed, clutching her purse tightly until realising it was none other than Taehyung who had appeared out of nowhere.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered in a hiss as he brushed over his black dress shirt. His hair dishevelled by now.

He quickly pressed a finger to his lips then, shushing her. And with wonderous eyes she observed him sliding the magnum out from between his waistband along with a small cylinder. Screwing it onto the gun barrel. Next, he pressed himself against the wall, peeking around the corner and aiming at the side-building on the opposite side of the courtyard.

He knew they were at a blind spot which the guards couldn't spot, but if he leaned out too much he'd be caught by them so he had to act quick and careful.

His tongue slightly darted out as he focused, firing one precise shot at a window in the first floor then. Everyone present stirred up at the shilling sound and the security from the entrance immediately rushed inside. The people who had been outside in the courtyard all looked up at the window while raising their voices in confusion. Confused mumbles about what it could've been, some guessing a stone having been thrown. No one having guessed a gunshot as the silencer prevented it creating a loud enough noise for the to hear with the background buzzing.

Content by their reactions, Taehyung tapped his in-ear then. "Quick."

At his command, Yoongi's head followed by Jimin's appeared out of the window in the second floor. And the two began climbing out the windowsill to slid down the gutter pipe. Half-way through though they slipped and landed in the bushes beneath them, with butts first.

Taehyung and Cassandra stifling a  laugh at the hilarious sight.

"Haha funny."

"Well, quite an elegant way to go," Yoongi chuckled in self-irony as he picked leaves out of his hair.

"Something that wouldn't have happened if someone had done his job correctly," Jimin coughed then. A knowing smirk on his lips as he glanced at Taehyung from the corner of his eye. Before the younger one could counter something though, he already waved him off. "Anyway. Let's get out of here before they notice."

They nodded, Taehyung turning to her then. "Cas, wait at the gate for a few minutes. We'll get the car and pick you up."

"Wh-"

"Just trust me, okay?"

She swallowed at his look of appeal and nodded. Watching them sneak behind the bushes to the very back of the high metal fence, which immedietally subjected to Yoongi's katana as if it was nothing but butter under a knife. And the three escaped from the hole and into the night.

Perplexed and a little unsure, Cassandra slowly walked out and making sure no one had seen her appearing from behind the corner when she heard loud voices coming from the open window in the second floor. Security probably having entered the office.

Acting as if she hadn't had a clue about what had gone down, she innocently walked across the courtyard and through the corridor to the entrance. The grip around Taehyung's suit jacket firm when she entered the chill night at the open street. Even humming while letting her gaze wonder around, pretending she didn't notice any of the uproar from inside the building. Glancing at her imaginary watch then, she acted as if she was waiting for someone and they were late which technically was true.

Finally, the familiar black limousine appeared in front of her and she hurried to the backseat where Yoongi greeted her with a nod. And they drove off.

"Alright. What even happened?" she asked then, a rush of adrenaline still running through her veins as she began shifting in her seat and glancing at each of them.

Taehyung dragged out a tired breath from the passenger seat, recalling the events of the past twenty minutes. How the embassandor had indeed been heading to his office. How Taehyung had to knock out a security guard to create a commotion in the first floor for the embassandor and his security to go check out. And then him escaping by climbing out the window before they reached the source. "Nothing."

Cassandra blinked with a scoff. "Nothing? Seriously now?"

"Just had to do create a little distraction."

Was that the noise she had heard? "What distraction?"

He smirked into his palm that was propping up his chin. "Oh, you know. Had to get a little creative." By basically making his own firecrackers.

"Don't worry, love, no one saw us and we got what we were there for," Jimin smiled brightly from behind the steering wheel, glancing at her in the rear-view window before adding with a wink, "Nice dress, by the way. I can see why Taehyungie got so distracted."

Taehyung's brows rose at this, his hand slipping from his chin. He probably would've fought his friend if he hadn't been driving right now, surpassing cars at speed limit.

"This had nothing to do with anything," he said with a scowl, keeping his voice calm and unphased. Cassandra only folded her lips, nodding to ensure she believed him. His attention then returning to Jimin. "And you, can you not flirt with any female for just five minutes?"

He was just glad he had offered her his blazer so they didn't actually get to see the whole dress or otherwise Jimin wouldn't have stopped pestering her.

He heard the master thief groan in annoyance then. His gleeful mood by their successful stunt, sullening with Taehyung's irrational agitation. "Man, chill. She looks good, that's all I said."

"It's alright, seriously," Cassandra giggled bemused by their quarreling, patting Taehyung's shoulder reassuringly from the back. She leaned over between the seats then to flash Jimin an appreciating grin. "And thanks. Wasn't quite sure about it so I'm glad someone likes it."

Jimin's eyes widened at this, peeking at Taehyung dumbfounded. "Don't tell me I'm the only one who complimented you tonight."

"Well," she laughed under her breath and sat back, "I also heard it'd be 'fitting' for the occasion. I took that as a compliment."

"I-it definitely was," Taehyung assured, earning an eye-roll from Jimin who found him unbelievable.

"You do look good," Yoongi spoke up then from beside her. Giving her a small encouraging smile, which she reciprocated happily.

"Thank you, Yoongi!" It felt great to hear all these compliments, even if it was just out of politeness.

Her eyes briefly wandered to the passenger seat then, lingering there a moment when an inaudible sigh escaped her. Adverting her eyes from him then and instead looking out at the passing buildings across the illuminated Danubian bank.

As they turned into a side-street and away from the river, Jimin's phone vibrated in his pocket. Cassandra didn't really think much of it, but Yoongi and Taehyung exchanged an alerted glance. There were only two reasons someone would call him after all.

Either it was Arabella, wanting to persuade him into helping her out again or it was interpol being on their tail.

Honestly, they didn't know which one was the worse trouble.

By the light scowl on Jimin's face, though, and the lack of flirting and heart-eyes while speaking to the caller, it was most likely not Arabella.

"Alright, thanks dear," he said then and ended the call. A groan leaving his lips before he faced them with an uneasy laugh. "Well, seems like pops found our hide-out. The nice old neighbour called me. I'd asked her to let me know if someone showed up and she said some tall, handsome guys with trenchcoats were questioning them."

"Sounds like pops and his entourage," Yoongi nodded, being glad Jimin was charming enough to convince nice old ladies to help them out and inform them if cops showed up, "How far is the airport?"

"Pops? You mean that interpol agent?" Cassandra's eyes grew twice in size when recalling that nickname, "He found you here? How?"

They shrugged. "That's his job, after all. He'd quite suck if he didn't do it right occasionally," Jimin chuckled, taking a sharp turn and earning some honking from other drivers.

"You think it'd be smart to head to the airport now though?" Taehyung wondered out loud then, "Last time they were already surveillancing all airports and stations. Maybe we should just head to another city and lay low instead."

"You got a point," Jimin agreed then, "But then we gotta change cars. They'll probably soon find out about this one."

"Crap."

They fell silent and Cassandra looked around. "Well, how about you hide somewhere like my hotel room for the night and then think of something in the morning? I mean, no one will search you there, right?"

They perked up, Taehyung instantly shaking his head. "No. You already got enough involved."

"But no one knows that yet," she deadpanned, making his jaw clench. "No one will find you there."

"She got a point.."

"No, she doesn't," he protested in vain. He knew she was right, but he simply couldn't accept that.

"Alright, you got another idea then?"

"The one I suggested."

"You forget that last time they were also barricading the main roads in and out the city," Yoongi countered then, "So got any other idea?"

He didn't.

»»»

Thankfully, and much to Taehyung's relief, they didn't have to actually all cramp in Cassandra's hotel room since the room next door was unoccupied. It was easy for them to pick the old lock after sneaking into the building from an open window without anyone noticing that they were even there. The perks of old, small hotels.

When they parted, Cassandra's body was still buzzing from the gala. The exhilarating feeling not having fully subdued yet.

After entering her dark room, she first freed her feet from the stilettos and kicked them as far away as possible, not wanting to ever see them again. However, she didn't feel like taking off her dress as well yet and shedding off the elegant feeling of the night so soon.

It was still fairly early, not even midnight yet, and she decided to sit outside at the small balcony for a moment to cool down and recall the last few hours. Taking one of her jackets with her as she'd already returned Taehyung's blazer.

It was silent in the backyard of the hotel, save for the faint melody of music coming from an open window somewhere. The little tables in its centre sitting lonely among trees and bushes.

It was ironic in a way, how no one out there could imagine what had happened on the other side of the city that night. As if it was a parallel universe.

Standing there for awhile enjoying the peaceful silence and reliving the evening in her head - while intentionally not dwelling too much on specific moments, or feelings - she  decided to go back inside. It was getting cold, even with her thick jacket on, and a sudden exhaustion overcame her after all when the sound of someone stepping out on the balcony beside hers made her pause in her tracks.

She knew it must've been one of the guys and yet, whoever it was probably went out to be alone just like her, so she didn't want to intrude.

So she dared an attempt to sneak inside. Only to get hindered by a low chuckle.

"You stalking me now?" The teasing smirk was audible even from behind the partition. And Cassandra exhaled in relief before huffing jokingly.

"Excuse me, I was here before you?"

Taehyung tsked and leaned his folded arms over the railing right beside her. Letting his eyes wander over the dark scenary of the night. The music had stopped awhile ago, only a stray cat pushing a can echoed through the peacefulness now.

She leaned a bit over to catch a glimpse of him behind the thin cement wall then.

His side-profile shone under the sparse lighting of a lamp underneath them, its serene expression captivating. Unsure if she'd ever seen it before.

She was fond of it, though, just as she was fond of his strong brows, the curves of his nose and lips and all the other soft edges complimenting them. And she was especially fond of the way the night breeze was swaying his tousled strands, not much of their previously sleeked back state evident anymore. Causing them to fall right into his eyes before he pushed them back with his long fingers.

In that moment she made a mental snapshot of this sight, the sight only she got to see and nobody else. She knew with time, her memory wouldn't be able to fully capture this placid nature anymore, but she knew the emotions it triggered inside her would forever be engraved in it.

Her gaze wandered out into the old buildings then, she inhaled deeply and ignored the lingering chemical reactions underneath the surface of her skin. Pushing it all away. Or at least, pretended to.

"I had fun tonight."

Taehyung hummed in acknowledgement and tilted his head to face her better. In the faint lightning, her round face glowed like the mood. And he observed her tuck away a brash curl which had fallen into her view and got caught in her long eyelashes. Warm eyes absentmindedly staring at nothing in particular and he noticed the tiniest reflections of light dancing in them.

His mind instinctively remembering the similar sight in the ballroom only a few hour ago. When she was in his arms in the sea of people.

A shaky breath left his lips at that memory and he averted his eyes from her again. Focusing on the dark silhouette of a building in the distance instead.

"Me, too," he eventually breathed and pushed himself off the railing. "But don't expect this to happen again," his tone turning into a warning one then, "This was the first and only time you'll get involved in a heist."

He had to stifle a laugh when hearing her offended huff, imagining her folding her arms in front of her with an adorable confusion.

"What, why? It was so exciting! And I did my part well, didn't I? Not my fault if you blew it." A dull sound followed her mini rant along with her small yelp and he already figured out that she hit her elbow against the metal railing. Shaking his head, he was about to argue when she continued, blowing out some air. "Besides, it hardly counts as 'participating in a heist' anyway."

"And why doesn't it?"

"Because I barely noticed anything from the action."

Her complaint made a laugh brush past his lips. "Good. Let's keep it this way. It was the last time this happens anyway," he simply stated then and she pouted.

"Fine, you meanie."

"Cas-"

"I said 'fine', I get it," she sighed then, "I'm not naive, I know it can get far more dangerous than that. No reason to keep lecturing me. But it was still fun and I don't regret it. When else could I dress up and attend a gala after all?" She smiled and he could tell she genuinely meant it.

Taehyung nodded, biting back a smile.

"You looked beautiful tonight, by the way."

Her breath hitched and she stayed quiet for longer than she intended. "Oh, so not just 'fitting'?"

And Taehyung folded his lips, unable to retort anything as the mocking, even if playful, felt deserved.

Why had he struggled so much telling her before?

He should've told her way sooner, face to face with no partition seperating them. It had been on the tip of his tongue all night long, but something inside him feared crossing a line if saying it out loud. He felt like a coward right now.

But what if he didn't even mean to say 'beautiful'? What if the word he much rather preferred was 'breathtaking'?

"No. You.. you looked great."

His firm voice put a smile on her face, feeling the chemical reactions inside her gaining intensity all over again. She straightened herself then and cleared her throat.

"Thank you. You looked quite handsome, too, cool guy." Like someone who drank his vodka martinis 'shaken, not stirred' -type of handsome.

She found herself silly for not telling him sooner either, for some reason overthinking it the whole evening. So she couldn't really judge him for only complimenting her now. She wondered if he had struggled as much as she had.

"Ah, did I?" Taehyung laughed under his breath, masking his own blush.

"Mh, I'm sure you already knew."

"No, I didn't actually," he grinned, "But thank you."

And they enjoyed the silence of the night for a little bit longer.

»»»

next chapter: 0.7 here

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taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame @nanakamami @sweetmimosa28

[lambment]

Hello 👋 I’m a little confused on your FAQ policy for asks, do you not want any asks from non mutuals? But you answer anons, so you only accept non mutual asks if they’re anonymous? Sorry if you’ve answered before, trying not be a bother but want to engage with u n your art as you want to be. Given the above confusion I think you may not answer this so I will simply continue to respect your boundaries and not send an ask again

omg anon you're so polite lol don't worry, anyone is more than welcome to send me a tumblr ask, anon or not!

its only with sending direct messages where I would prefer non mutuals to refrain from contacting me, unless I've actively encouraged/engaged with you (but I'd probably b following u already if that was the case)

I'm realizing as a side blog u prob wont know if I'm following you... this is an issue oh no lol. damn.

there's also no guarantee I will answer asks bcuz:

1. i get quite a few, so they might be buried.

2. im busy and cannot answer the way i want.

3. its a very sweet message, and im hoarding it to myself.

4. i forgor.

[catflowerqueen]

I know I said I was going to take a break from TSAMS, and I probably will double down even harder on that after what just happened in today's episode... but I just couldn't help myself after seeing posts from some of my mutuals and their followers.

Rant below. If you do read, please take it with a grain of salt--there is probably context I've missed since I haven't been keeping up with the series the way I used to considering how disappointed I've been with the direction the story has seemed to be heading for quite a while now.

Immediate thoughts:

Way to not tell Old Moon the whole story, Monty. Especially after hearing him tell you he has no idea who Solar is. You know perfectly well that New Moon is in this state, negatively interacting with his family, precisely because he is still trying to help another family member. Solar is family! Family who everyone else is grieving! You are intentionally leaving out tons of context, and at this point I am still half convinced you're doing it because you, personally, couldn't divorce Solar from the other Eclipse(s) who personally harmed you. So this is just a convenience, getting a Moon back who is more likely to enable you and go along with your shenanigans.

And it also makes me think that you, personally, just never got over Old Moon's death or respect his choices at all, that you would be willing to do the exact same thing New Moon is trying to do, just in a supposedly "cleaner" fashion: Kill someone else to get the loved one you personally want back. The difference being that, again, Old Moon chose to sacrifice himself so someone else could live, unlike like Solar, who was a casualty of someone else's cruel plot, and New Moon is going after people who have actually done a lot of harm and murder. Unlike New Moon, who I am pretty sure hasn't actually killed anyone yet. Or at least no one that the others didn't agree was an acceptable target.

It also reminds me of how generally off and combative Lunar has been toward New Moon this entire time. Like--I really, really don't think Lunar ever got over Old Moon's death in any sort of healthy fashion, and I do wonder if he isn't still doing some sort of weird, internalized survivor's guilt deal, since he at one time offered to be Moon's "happy" and protect him, but then just ran off with basically no warning and didn't get the chance to apologize or even say goodbye before Old Moon died.

Not to mention that Lunar knew from Solar what the likely consequences would be of trying to remove KC, but didn't think to/have a chance to warn Sun or Old Moon.

New Moon isn't Lunar's Moon... so Lunar just never bothered to really get to know him or kindle a relationship, especially since he got a shiny new sister with no pre-existing baggage to hang out with. Rather than confront or acknowledge his past with Sun and Moon beyond the fact that an Eclipse was around.

Seems like, in general, everyone else is now reaping the consequences of the fact that Moon isn't around right now to be the pillar who cleans up their messes and problems. Because that usually is his role--he works behind the scenes to quash what problems he can before they get bad, or he does the most to try and fix things and find solutions while everyone else just messes around and then blames him for not doing better when he fails.

Like... right before the first October takeover. Sun got upset when he found out Moon didn't really have a real plan to prevent the takeover from happening, and said he wished Moon had told him earlier... but did Sun even think to really ask? Or offer his own potential plan? It doesn't really seem like it! Because that was Moon's job.

It's always Moon's job.

The only times he's really gotten help are when Monty was involved--which even Monty today admitted was not always the greatest of situations--or when he had Solar.

But then he had neither, since Monty today has seemingly proven they never actually cared about New Moon as their own person. And Solar is gone.

Why are they so surprised now that Moon--either Moon--has hit his breaking point?

Also--they should have given New Moon Yahtzee to play with! Moon at least gave Sun a mirror to look at when he trapped him in that magic box, and they gave Ruin a Monopoly board and streaming abilities when he asked. Old Moon has a sunset and can't really perceive the passage of time!

But, no, New Moon gets absolutely nothing.

And they are surprised he isn't getting better? There are reasons why solitary confinement is considered such a harsh punishment! Getting no mental stimulation does things to a person, and I can only imagine that it is worse for animatronics, considering how much processing power they have and how fast their thoughts must move!

Final thoughts:

If they are using this an excuse to bring Old Moon back permanently, then I just feel like they should have done this very shortly after his death to begin with. That way it would have just been a case of a minor amnesia plotline--not murder, like even Monty admits it will be.

And, for that matter, why is it Moon who never gets a second chance after death? Lunar and Earth have "died," but they got to keep their memories. Eclipse and Bloodmoon have died, but they get both a pass for past actions--which is fair, since, again, they aren't really them--while still reaping the benefits of having those memories uploaded into them, to learn from or ignore at their discretion.

But New Moon got all the blame and consequences while getting none of the benefits, and now they just want to kill him off anyways.

It just makes me so angry and sad.

(And secretly kind of wondering if maybe we accidentally switched Point of Views to a different dimension without realizing it, and our original, beloved Sun and Moon/New Moon are still out there, somewhere, living their best lives with no idea of what the viewers are currently seeing. Though I would still be so sad for the versions we are seeing right now if that was, indeed, the case.)

...And that was quite a rant. Please remember what I asked about taking things with a grain of salt, and forgive me if I ended up being wildly inaccurate with any of my information or assumptions.