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a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year

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the walls are thin - epilogue

in which atsumu is your college neighbor with whom you share a wall. previous | epilogue [masterlist]

// proudly unpredictable and awestrukenly trusting ~ ᴀᴛsᴜᴍᴜ x ʙᴏᴋᴜᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 12504 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni omg even more smut, lots of fluff!, established relationships, seriously just a lot of fluff, we get to see all our favs, gatherings, party vibes, threesome, oral m!receive, throat fucking, oral f!receive, slight objectification but its hot?, afab she/her pronouns

a note from ♡ tori ♡: ah okay guys, i can't believe we're finally here. the END of twrt. i really didn't think that it would get this much love and all the interactions really just made me so happy and like would make my days, every week, all the time. tysm and ah, i can't wait for you guys to read THIS. it's like, ah, my fav. <3 <3 <3 can't wait to hear your guys' last thoughts on this silly little fic. ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

ever since you woke up 3 hours ago, you’ve been an anxious mess. productive, sure, but still uneasy. even now, you’re tidying, moving about the kitchen, wiping down the counters, putting away dishes, moving with purpose, quick, short movements from task to task.

“can ya stop pacing? it’s making me nervous,” atsumu calls from the living room, clicking his tongue and shaking his head as he emerges in the archway.

“how are you not more nervous already?” you ask, not stopping a single bit, actually pacing more now. before it was a way of getting around between chores, now you’re heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to heel toe until you reach the edge of the invisible barrier between your kitchen and dining room and then you turn 180° and repeat the process again.

it’s much roomier here than the kitchen in your apartment. the distance between your 180s is much longer than you had the luxury of before. you’re grateful for that, more time to overthink before spinning around.

you’re grateful for a lot of things in this kitchen compared to the last. the countertops are much nicer, shinier, easier to clean. the cupboards are roomier, don’t slam as loudly. the sink is big, spacious, with a spraying feature that actually gets the food off of the dishes. the stove has gas burners and there are two ovens instead of one really shitty one (though, those were a part of the non negotiable luxuries list you and atsumu came up with months ago). the fridge makes ice without having to fill the trays and the freezer has built-in shelves.

you’re grateful for the little things scattered around the kitchen too, the things that make it feel like home. the electric kettle is a matte sage and it matches your tea green dishware. the two cacti on the window sill, the hanging flowers to the right of the sink. photos of you and atsumu and friends, stupid lovey notes, oikawa and iwaizumi’s save the date, all attached to the fridge with tasteful souvenir magnets. the notepad on the freezer door where you and atsumu write your meal plan for the week. a dry erase calendar sprinkled with events in both yours and atsumu’s handwriting.

“hey, c’mon,” he says, walking over to you, reaching out his hand and wrapping it around your wrist gently to stop your repetitive motions. “makin’ me dizzy too.” he lets your hand fall as you stop, walking a few more steps away from him, deeper into the kitchen.

you huff, leaning your lower back against the cool countertop, heels digging into the tile floor as you cross your arms over your chest. “seriously, tsumu, how are you not nervous?”

he leans against the adjacent counter, palms gripping the edge, “what exactly are you worried about?”

“i don’t know,” you mumble, head tilting forward slowly, base leaving your spine, chin coming into soft contact with your chest as you take a deep breath.

you can’t see atsumu as he moves towards you, too busy looking down at your feet, but his voice is close to you as he speaks, “yea you do.” it’s soft, knowing, but patient.

“i just…,” you trail off. atsumu waits a few moments, trying to let you articulate whatever you’re feeling and wherever your worries are stemming from, but you look up at him and you’re not making any attempts to explain, so he tries to fill it in.

“everyone will get along, i promise. i know it’s been awhile, but that doesn’t mean that-,” he starts explaining.

you cut him off, shaking your head, “no it’s not that…”

“then what, baby?” he asks, nudging your legs apart, stepping in between them until the outsides of his thighs are pressed against the insides of yours. he grips onto the counter on either side of your hips.

you speak, small and somewhat under your breath, “we haven’t seen everyone in too long, i just really want everything to go well so i can enjoy the night.”

“come here,” he wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest, smoothing his hand over your hair as he presses a soft kiss onto the top. you let him move you, embrace you, wrapping your arms around his waist and finally taking a much needed deep breath.

you’re already feeling so much better, but he keeps explaining, “we get to see friends, some that we haven’t seen in years, all in one place, under this roof, our roof,” he pulls you back gently, kissing your cheek and then your cheekbones, “we own this roof,” he says, kissing you again and you giggle, “and we get to just hang out and play stupid games and catch up with everyone.”

atsumu steps back from you, interlocking his fingers with yours and spinning you around until your back is pressed up against his chest, swaying with you. “and we will play terrible music and feel so weird when two obscure friends talk to each other and we don’t even have to worry about stupid downstairs neighbors,” he says, spinning you back so he can see your adorable face again, watch the worry melt right off of it as he often gets to do because he’s so good at the melting, “and everyone will give us gifts, some really cool and some really bad, and we get to just have a really great night with everyone all in exchange for hours of veggie prep and hundreds of dollars in sliced meats and days of setting up and coming days of cleaning up.”

well, fuck, you can’t even remember why you were so worried a second ago.

“we still have so much work to do before everyone shows up at 6,” you note, no longer hurriedly anxious but still aware of how quickly time seems to pass when you’re being smothered in kisses by atsumu. your eyes flick to the clock above the stove that reads 10:15 am, but you don’t move an inch. even after all of this time, you’re still painfully aware of how difficult it is to unravel from a comforting atsumu.

bzz bzz. atsumu sits up, kisses your forehead quickly, and then walks back to the living room where his phone is buzzing. well, maybe it’s not so difficult for him. you almost yell out a pout, but realize that this sudden interruption should probably be welcomed, allowing you to actually focus on getting the house perfectly ready.

“hey,” atsumu says into the phone, muffled by the distance of being two rooms over now. “yea.” … “great!” … “okay.” …. “alright.” …. “okay. see you then.” …. “love you too.”

you scan your list of things to do, open the fridge to truly take in the quantity of vegetables and amount of side prepping you have to do, put the last dishes from the dishwasher away, and make a tiny note to remind atsumu to grab the mini burners from the basement. “who was that?” you call out.

“god, it’s a good thing we did all the shopping yesterday, or you’d be an even bigger mess today,” atsumu says, popping into the kitchen again, jumping up onto your freshly cleaned counter.

you throw him a look, eyes narrowed and jaw open in faux shock. “i literally just cleaned that,” you say, gesturing to the counter he is now sitting on, “also, i probably would be a smaller mess if someone was a bit more helpful.” you can’t help your smile as he shrugs his shoulders, playing along. just as you spent the entire morning cleaning the kitchen, atsumu had spent the entire morning cleaning the living room. the two of you both knew this.

you walk over to him. “can’t believe i’ve had to do everything today,” you shake your head at him, smile even wider as he leans forward and kisses it. “in return, i’d like you to go downstairs and find those stupid burners and also bring up the extra tables so i can set them.”

even amidst the chaos, clock ticking down with your to-do list still impossibly full, atsumu has a way of pulling you into these small moments. he always has, your entire relationship. it doesn’t matter what you were worried about, how you were feeling, what you were doing, he always creates space for you and him to just enjoy each other.

most of the time, just like this time, it comes in the form of teasing and poking fun. “y’know,” you tack on, leaning forward and kissing him back, “because you haven’t really done anything,” you explain.

he wraps his arms around your waist, leans back pulling you with him, kissing the side of your face, “oh is that so?”

you squirm to get out of his arms, but he holds tight, laughing now as he continues to press kiss after kiss after kiss wherever he can reach. “yes! it is so!!” you yell, laughter making it nearly unintelligible.

“right, the living room cleaned itself?” he asks.

you can’t stop laughing as you quip back, “magic, maybe.”

he lets you go completely now and shakes his head at you. “just like the table is going to magically find its way up here?” he asks, tilting his head.

you place your hands on his knees. “nope. that’s all you,” you tease.

knock knock knock. the fear creeps up on you quickly, all rational thought leaving in an instant as you worry about how much time could have passed, wrong information you could’ve sent out, unexpected people that it could be.

the crooked smile on atsumu’s face combats it instantly. “it’s a good thing i recruited back up then, huh?” atsumu says, nodding in the vague direction of your front door. your eyebrows knit together in confusion, but atsumu doesn’t say anything else, nods in the same direction again.

you make your way to the front door, tip toeing on perfectly cleaned hardwood floors and over brand new decorative rugs. just a week ago, this place was filled with boxes and disassembled furniture. now, in their places are the trinkets that filled them and the put together pieces.

the front door doesn’t even have a chance to open completely before you’re jumping into his arms, squeak of excitement leaving you, hanging off of his neck. whatever he was holding in his arms is set gently onto the ground so that he’s able to reciprocate the tightness of the hug.

you pull back, eyes wide and smile even wider before wrapping your arms around him once more and hugging him even tighter. you’re so enveloped in his embrace that you don’t hear atsumu approach behind you, only notice that he’s there when he scoffs loudly.

“what was one of the first things i said when you learned that he existed?” atsumu jokingly scolds. you pull away from your hug, half turning to see atsumu’s smitten smile and teasing head shakes. “i said that you weren’t allowed to like my brother more than me.”

you take a step back from the doorway, allowing osamu to actually step into the house. osamu reaches down to pick up his bags, one neatly packaged reusable kitchen bag and a just as neatly packaged gift bag. “that is somethin’ he usually has to say,” osamu says, looking in your direction, “when people meet atsumu first, it sets the bar pretty low.”

atsumu reaches forward to hit the side of osamu’s head, but osamu ducks out of the way like he’s been anticipating it from the moment the thought popped into his head. “besides, most people can’t help it,” osamu loudly whispers to you, smirking, “i’m just the better twin.”

“never shoulda invited ya,” atsumu shakes his head.

“but i’m so much help,” osamu replies, leaving his shoes neatly to the right of the door.

“yea, you’re just in time to go get stuff from the basement,” atsumu points out, nodding towards the basement door down the hallway.

“oh, absolutely not,” you step in front of atsumu’s nodding, blocking the view to the basement as if to prove a point. “samu’s gonna help me in the kitchen because duh and also so he can tell me all about the onigiri miya drama,” you explain to atsumu, shifting your weight forward onto the tips of your toes and smiling huge.

“god, i made a mistake inviting you over to help prep, didn’t i?” atsumu asks, but you’re already pulling osamu by the forearm into the kitchen, loudly excited to tell him every little detail about your new kitchen.

“you remember the old kitchen, right?”

“yea, of course, was kinda shitty.”

“i know, i know, but look! look at this, samu, 2 ovens.”

“gas stove too?”

“yea! works much better with the pans you got tsumu and i last christmas.”

“oh! do ya wanna see the housewarming gift i got ya?”

“now?!”

“why not?”

“then, yea! duh!”

nope. definitely not a mistake.

atsumu peaks his head into the archway with every intention of telling you that he’s heading to the basement and asking you if you could think of anything else that was down there that he needed to bring up. instead, he gets to watch this scene unfold, doesn’t dare to interrupt as you tear the tissue paper out of the bag, throw it onto the floor that you were so worried about moments ago, dig your hand around inside to feel for the contents, and then pull out a wooden box. “no way,” you say under your breath, turning quickly to set it down on the counter with excessive care. “my own?”

“come on, yn, every time you and sumu were at my place when ya came to visit, ya wouldn’t stop talkin’ about it,” osamu says, beaming, watching you closely as you gently pop open the latch.

“yea but then i went home and tsumu and i looked up how much it was and then we couldn’t stop randomly bringing up how much you spent on a fucking knife for 3 weeks straight,” you explain, shaking your head. you reach down into the box, running your fingers over the engraving on the side and it takes everything in you not to burst into tears as you read it. miya.

“i heard ya had a lot of veggies to prep,” osamu says, shrugging, “you’ll get enough use out of it today alone, i bet.”

“this is insane, samu, fuck,” you say, turning towards him and hugging him for the third time today already. “thank you so much.”

“of course,” osamu says, hugging you back.

“not really a gift for tsumu, though, huh?” you ask.

“the gift for sumu was how happy it makes you,” he replies without missing a beat, as if he actually thought it all the way through when buying it, saw the price tag, and took into account how happy his brother would be if he bought it for you. you can’t stop smiling.

the food prep flies by, not just because of your incredible new knife, but also because of the company. it’s actually been hours by the time you get everything washed, chopped, prepped, and plated, but the entire time was spent catching up on months worth of onigiri miya drama and the trips that you and atsumu had recently taken.

the second that the door to the basement closes, you lean in close to osamu, “so how is it going with that girl who keeps coming in right before closing?” you don’t have to be as close as you are to osamu to notice how flustered he gets instantly.

“i’m gonna switch jobs with sumu,” osamu threatens, shaking his head as he brings packages of vegetables to the sink.

you follow right along. “evading the question is just going to make it worse,” you explain.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies, evidently evading the question.

“the last you told me, she was still coming in and you were still staying open just to make her food,” you say, turning off the faucet so that he pays attention to you. “is that still happening?” he doesn’t respond. “you have to at least give me that!”

he sighs, turning his attention to you. “the second that atsumu walks up those stairs, you don’t say another word about this,” he says, finger in your face.

“deal! deal deal deal!” you say, nodding along. “is it still happening?”

“and,” he adds, “you let me wash the veggies while we talk about this.” you reach over and turn the faucet on again, smiling. he continues, “yes, it’s still happening.”

“have you told her that you like her?” you ask, not contributing a single bit to the prep that osamu is doing.

“well, i’m not 12, so, no?” he replies.

you hit his shoulder, “you don’t have to be 12 to have a crush on someone, samu. but, seriously, do you get that vibe?”

“probably just hungry after work or something,” osamu mumbles.

“so nothing has happened since we last talked that would make it seem like maybe she’s into you?” you ask, squinting at him despite the fact that his attention is solely on washing the bunches of broccoli.

you hear the sound of ascending steps from the basement, the door knob jiggle open, and you know osamu does too as he quickly says, “i mean, maybe the one time we were chatting until 4 am.” the door squeaks open and osamu raises his eyebrows at you and shakes his head. you will get this information out of him later.

it’s not long until it’s just a few short hours of everyone arriving. the decorating is mostly done, the food is prepped in the fridge, the tables are mostly set up. you entrust the rest of the prep to the miya twins- which might be a terrible idea, you’ll have to see once you come back downstairs- as you go upstairs to get yourself ready.

“i will keep an eye on him,” osamu says, flinging his arm around atsumu.

atsumu instantly pushes osamu’s arm off of him, shaking his head and reaching to smack the side of his head again. “it’s my house!” atsumu yells, missing once again and then instantly trying to hit him again. when osamu keeps moving out of the way, atsumu jumps at osamu, sending the two of them flying backwards and into one of the tables that needs to be finished setting up. the table bumps against the wall and even from your place on the stairs, you can see the ding in the freshly painted wall.

atsumu and osamu look at the wall and then up at you, waiting to see how you’ll react and how much they should start blaming each other. you just laugh, “the first of many, i suppose.” and then you make your way upstairs.

/++/

5:39pm and you walk downstairs, breath held because you’re not exactly sure what the state of the house is going to be in, but whatever expectations that you had are surpassed. everything looks exactly how you want it to look.

atsumu and osamu are standing side by side looking down at the large, mostly empty table where, in an hour’s time, your closest friends will be gathered, enjoying food and each other’s company. “i still think we should just set up the broths and vegetables,” atsumu says.

your torn between pulling out the camera or committing this adorable scene to memory, atsumu and osamu in the same exact pose, arms folded across their chests, posture mimicked, head tilted to the same degree. you opt for the camera. it’s more replicable that way, more provable.

it’s over all too soon, osamu bumping his shoulder into atsumu’s and shaking his head. “i told ya already, stupid,” osamu jeers, “if people aren’t eatin’ for another hour, there’s no need to bring em out yet. ya don’t even have to do anything, just hafta take the plastic wrap off of em.”

“yeah, but when we’re-,” atsumu starts to argue.

“yer wrong, just be wrong, sumu,” osamu interrupts.

atsumu moves to hit him again, but you speak up, “we can just bring it out when everyone arrives and settles.” the two of them turn to face you and atsumu can’t help the smitten face that quickly takes over, doesn’t even have the heart to argue with you right now. “seriously, everything looks great, guys, thank you.”

osamu sends back a quick, not a problem that you don’t have a chance to reply to, because atsumu meets you in two quick strides, kissing the side of your cheek. “you look a lot less stressed,” he says against your skin and then moves to pull away. osamu, the most perfect man in the world who can read any room and react with impeccable timing, tells the two of you that he’s going to finish cleaning up the prep mess in the kitchen.

you place both of your hands on either side of atsumu’s face, pulling him to kiss you. “you’re really good to me, y’know that?” you ask.

“ya look really good tonight, y’know that?” he asks back.

you shake your head at his evaded question. you know that he knows that. you kiss him again. “don’t you have to get ready? people are going to walk through that door any minute.”

“yes,” he says quickly, kisses you once more, and is then bounding up the stairs, “i’ll be 10 minutes tops!” he yells from your bedroom.

/++/

atsumu is the third person that shows up to your party and that’s not including you and osamu. the first person that shows up is maki at 5:58pm because, sure, he could’ve waited for those 2 minutes and shown up right on time, but that would’ve been 2 minutes that he could’ve been spending with you. he earns a hug just as hard as osamu, harder even, longer, despite the fact that you saw maki just last week when he helped you move in.

“you’re early, y’know that?” you ask when you pull away. maki steps inside of your house as if he’s been there a million times, leaves his shoes right next to osamu’s and nods.

“2 whole minutes,” maki replies, shrugging, “issei’s on his way and i’m sure oikawa and iwa will be late,” he informs you and you nod along. sure, maki had helped you move in, but he hadn’t gotten to see your house put together like it is now. he takes the liberty of exploring the rooms of the ground floor and you follow him around as you ask him how his drive was.

when you make it into the kitchen, excited to start rattling off everything about it that you love, osamu is in there casually on his phone. osamu and maki had met before, several times. it was inevitable, really, the most important person in your life other than atsumu and the most important person in his life other than you knowing one another. and you’re grateful for the fact that you don’t need to introduce or entertain the two of them as they instantly start a conversation because someone is already at the door and atsumu is nowhere to be seen.

the second person that shows up at your party is kita at 6:00pm on the dot. you know everyone that’s coming to the party, but you know kita the least and yet, the second that he starts talking, you feel like you’ve known him forever. you’ve only really met one other time, but kita steps inside and tells you how gorgeous the entryway to your house is and hands you a small gift and you understand very quickly why atsumu and osamu have raved about this person for years.

atsumu makes his way downstairs, quickly and haphazardly and almost falling on his ass, at 6:14pm. he just barely beats out sakusa and hinata who show up together at 6:15pm. in fact, he’s there to greet them at the door with you. they’re the first people that you greet as a couple and it, along with the soft chatter in the kitchen from osamu, maki, and kita, is making the night feel very real.

sakusa and hinata don’t need any introductions or hand-holding. even though they have never been in your house, they make themselves feel at home, walking in and leaving the two of you in the doorway as they explore. “this is crazy, right?” you ask atsumu, unable to focus on one conversation that’s happening and it’s filling you with a joy that is unmatched.

he answers by pressing a kiss into your forehead and nodding down the hall where hinata is touching something that he maybe shouldn’t be and sakusa is scolding him, something about how he’s so glad bo isn’t here yet. you can’t help but laugh, taking a single step in their direction before the next person is knocking on the door.

issei shows up at 6:16pm. he’s the first person to say the word, congratulations! to the two of you and it feels warm on your mind and in your chest. “maki’s already here, right? he said he was coming early to see you,” issei says, peering down your hallway.

“two minutes, issei,” you say, shaking your head, “he was two minutes early and it’s a good thing too, because i haven’t been able to spare anything other than those two minutes.”

“ah, there’s that college you,” issei jokes, pulling you in for a hug, “i knew it was in there somewhere, that interesting mixture of super stressed and in love with atsumu.” you narrow your eyes at him, but can’t get a comeback out as he continues, “where’s kawa and hajime, anyway?”

“come on,” you check your imaginary watch, “it’s still practically six o’clock.”

“true, but iwa did say that he was really going to try to get oikawa here on time,” issei notes as you shut the door behind him.

“and i’m saying that even really trying, there’s no way oikawa shows up before 7pm,” you shoot back and pull issei into the direction of the kitchen. you make quick eye contact with atsumu who gives you a warm smile and gestures towards the living room, making his way over there as soon as you return an affirming nod.

“i know you’re right, but sometimes i just want to have faith in them, y’know,” issei says, the two of you entering the kitchen. maki immediately (and politely) leaves his current conversation to join you guys when he sees you.

“who?” maki asks, quickly and very nosy.

“hajime trying to get oikawa here early,” you reply.

“oh, there’s no way that oikawa shows up before 7pm,” maki says matter-of-factly.

you grab onto his shoulder, nodding with your whole body because it’s really nice to have someone in your life who understands you as much as maki does. “that’s what i said!!!!”

the three of you catch up as much as three people who are in four different group chats and who talk to each other every day can catch up with one another. it is different, though. you hadn’t seen issei in months and maki hadn’t seen him in almost as long as you and you feel like you’re back in college in the best way possible and you really wish oikawa and iwaizumi were here.

you’re so immersed in your conversation that you actually don’t hear the door open. instead, you hear the voices traveling from the foyer, through the halls, and to the kitchen at 6:43pm.

“i don’t think you’re supposed to just walk in, rin,” you hear a familiar voice at the front door.

“well, then, maybe they should lock their door, aran,” you hear a different familiar voice reply.

you excuse yourself, walking to go greet the two people at the door. atsumu beats you to it, practically running down the hallway and pulling aran and then suna into a half hug. “yo, careful, atsumu, geez,” suna pokes, but hugs him right back. “you’re gonna break whatever this gift is.”

“how do you not know what it is?” atsumu asks, grabbing the large bag from him.

“because rin just asked if we could get something together so he wouldn’t have to go shopping,” aran says before suna could offer any sort of bullshit excuse. suna doesn’t deny it then, only lets a knowing, lazy smile creep onto his face.

“yea, guilty,” suna shrugs, “but to be fair, it was really expensive, whatever it is.”

aran nods, “it was really expensive.”

atsumu shakes his head, “you guys really didn’t hafta get us anything.”

“i mean, if it was just you, we wouldn’t have,” suna explains, looking passed atsumu and walking towards you. “thanks for havin’ us.”

you are pulled into two more hugs. you should have been keeping count of the amount of hugs you’re giving out tonight because the number is definitely getting up there and you’re not sure that it’s going to stop anytime soon.

“of course,” you reply, “thank you for whatever this really expensive gift is.”

“yea, whatever it is,” suna laughs.

you rest your hand on aran’s shoulder, “kita’s already here and osamu’s been here all day.”

“what? where was our all day invite?” suna asks.

“we’re literally here 45 minutes late, rin,” aran says, face unphased but voice questioning.

“yea, and you wouldn’t have helped,” atsumu tacks on.

“alright, yea,” suna says and the four of you walk into the kitchen. you note in your head that another thing you’re very grateful for about this kitchen is how much bigger it is than your last one, the open connection to the dining area granting the ability to fit everyone without having to worry about being too cramped.

you note the different groups of people forming, the different conversations that are taking place. you’re still playing host right now, walking from group to group and adding a few words or giving a side hug or asking if anyone wants a drink.

“who else is coming?” aran asks when you interrupt his conversation with kita and sakusa.

“oh, my friends, oikawa and iwaizumi, and then bo, i think, right?” you answer and ask atsumu across the room.

“yup,” atsumu nods, returning his attention to the conversation that he’s having with issei and suna.

“oikawa and iwaizumi are usually this late, but i’m not sure why bo is so late,” you say, thoughtful, but then shrug your shoulders. as if on cue, there is a knock at the door. “oh! that’s probably him.”

you rush over to the door and are very surprised to see oikawa and iwaizumi at 7:02pm. “i’m sorry that we’re late. i really tried this time,” iwaizumi says, looking at oikawa with a death stare rather than you with an apologetic one. you laugh, shaking your head. you hug them both, one arm around each of their necks as you squeeze them tight.

you hadn’t seen them even longer than you hadn’t seen issei, almost an entire year. sure, you kept in contact all the time, but you hadn’t physically been able to hug them and see them in far too long. they had just been much too busy with life and travel and wedding plans and life. “‘ts fine, but you’re staying later to make up for it,” you reply, still not letting go.

“oh, we’re staying in town for a few days, actually,” oikawa smiles, “surprise?”

“oh my god!” you say, indeed surprised. “that’s incredible!”

“yeah, atsumu helped us set the whole thing up the second we even made a mention in passing,” oikawa explains.

“guess that’s why kawa thought it would be okay to be the last people here?” iwaizumi says, evidently still playfully bitter about the fact that oikawa made them late again.

“actually,” you say, “not the last people to get here. somehow.”

“dammit! no way?” iwaizumi says in disbelief. you’re about to question why that’s such a bad thing, but oikawa’s sweet smile contorts into mischief and told ya so.

“ha! pay up! i told you, hajime,” oikawa says, poking his finger into the side of iwaizumi’s cheek.

“ridiculous,” iwaizumi shakes his head, “who else?”

“oh, just bokuto. i’m still really not sure why he’s so late. i thought you guys were him,” you reply, shaking your head. “i’ll send him a text-.”

“hajime,” oikawa says monotonously, cutting you off, “pay. up.”

“what? not here?” iwaizumi says, shaking his head, eyebrows furrowed like oikawa has just asked for something he should not have. knowing oikawa, he probably did exactly that.

“yes, here. pay up!” oikawa says, nodding back in the direction that they came from. you tilt your head curiously, wanting to ask questions, but just letting whatever is happening unfold.

“absolutely not,” iwaizumi refuses.

“no, because i said that-,” oikawa starts, finger in iwaizumi’s face once again.

“okay, okay, fine,” iwaizumi gives in. you’ve known the two of them long enough to know exactly what’s going through iwaizumi’s brain. there were times before that he didn’t give in to oikawa as quickly as this, but all three of you know that when oikawa starts droning on about whatever he said, it never ends in iwaizumi getting his way.

“it’s in the car,” oikawa smiles.

“i’ll be back,” iwaizumi grumbles, turning around and then he’s gone again.

you choose not to ask any questions because oikawa is not responding to your very confused face and instead starts asking you about your new home. you only get halfway into a partial conversation when iwaizumi shows back up at the door, shaking his head, sighing heavily with a white t-shirt that reads oikawa was right. “perfect,” oikawa says, placing his palm against the words and patting softly.

he walks down the hallway on his toes, swaying back and forth proudly, “issei, come look at this stupid fucking shirt that hajime’s wearing!” within seconds, issei appears in the hallway, attacking oikawa with a hug and then pointing at iwaizumi, shaking his head and laughing. maki follows behind with less force, but all of his composure vanishes the second he sees the shirt.

“god, i can’t believe i get to marry that idiot,” iwaizumi says softly and you know that if anyone else were standing here with him, he wouldn’t have let it slip out into the air, but he knows that you get it more than anyone.

once everyone is settled, back into small groups conversing, you take out your phone to shoot bokuto a text message to at least ask him where he’s at. he responds in seconds.

> bokkun ♡ / 7:14 pm> SORRY. walking up now ♡♡♡♡♡♡

“well, well, well,” you say, clicking your tongue as you open the door. you’re there before he’s even knocked. “you’re very late, bokuto.”

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry,” he says, leaning down and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you into an enveloping, warm, tight hug. “but i have a good reason?” he says as he steps back.

emerging from behind him is akaashi with an almost embarrassed, sheepish smile.

“oh my god! i haven’t seen you in so long! ah!” you say, greeting him with a hug as well. it’s less warm, more friendly than bokuto’s, and you can feel how nervous he is. you met akaashi a few times before and really hit it off. he was easily one of your favorite people even though you’ve known him much less than some of the other people at this party. but he didn’t live in the area and neither of you were very good at keeping up with each other.

“i’m sorry i dropped by uninvited, but bokuto said that it would be okay and-,” akaashi smiles apologetically.

“of course it’s okay!” you say, pulling him inside.

“well, okay, i didn’t bring kaashi so that you would ignore me,” bokuto says, stepping inside on your other side, throwing his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

“me? ignore you? come on, you’ve gotta be joking,” you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck, practically hanging off of him. “tsumu!” you yell excitedly, walking as quickly as you can with bokuto attached to your hip into the living room where everyone has migrated, “bo is here!” you emerge from the hallway. “and look who he brought!”

you’re so excited to start introducing anyone who doesn’t know akaashi to akaashi because everyone loves akaashi, but just as you’re about to start pointing everyone out and giving names to faces, akaashi speaks, soft and timid in this room of so many people, but clear nonetheless. “samu?”

osamu’s head swivels around quickly, following that voice that he evidently knows so well, because the word is already coming out of his mouth, before he’s even made eye contact with him. “keiji?” there are conversations still happening, people still chatting, but a few of them stop, and most importantly you hear it and notice it.

“you two know each other?” bokuto asks, surprised and excited all in one.

for you, it’s more about figuring out what’s happening than being excited and happy that they already know each other. “you two know each other that well?” you question.

osamu turns away, tilts his head down to the floor and clears his throat, but akaashi isn’t that quick. you watch the blush spread across his nose and cheeks.

“yeah, i work near onigiri miya and i usually stop there after work,” akaashi explains, “samu- er, osamu is usually kind enough to let me stay and eat while he cleans up.”

it all clicks.

you can’t stop the expression from creeping onto your face. the warning glance that osamu sends your way is just more proof of how heavily it’s showing. you have so many questions, need so many answers, at the very least want some sort of confirmation that you are as right about this as you feel and akaashi gives you just that.

he laughs, light and airy, and you can see the effects that it has on osamu. “just the other day he let me stay until like,” akaashi lowers his head, slightly embarrassed, “i had a really annoying day at work and he let me hang out in the restaurant until like 4 in the morning. and you had to be in at like 9 the next day, didn’t you?” he asks osamu.

“oh, even earlier, actually,” osamu teases back, “like 7 or something ridiculous.”

akaashi shakes his head, tucks a piece of hair behind his ear and exhales, “i’m not even going to make any promises that i won’t do it again.”

“well, i would never ask that of ya,” osamu says and you can feel how genuine it is and it’s not even pointed at you.

atsumu shoots you a questioning look, very aware of the silent exchanges between you and osamu. you shoot him back a wide-eyed, excited expression and mouth the word, later to him. atsumu nods back at you, gives you a quick thumbs up, and then continues talking with hinata, sakusa, aran, and suna.

osamu and akaashi practically don’t talk to anyone else that night, moving over to the quiet corner of the living room. osamu takes it upon himself to drag him into the kitchen, to grab him a drink, to ask him about work, and to tell him that he looks really nice tonight.

“it’s just because i’m actually freshened up,” akaashi reasons.

“no way.”

“yes way. you usually see me after an 8 hour shift.”

“or maybe it’s just because i always think it, but we’re finally outside of my restaurant and so i can say things like that.”

a pause. “well, i think you look better in your onigiri miya shirt.”

“oh is that so, keiji?”

“yeah. you look good in black.”

“well, i’ll have to keep that in mind.”

now that everyone is here, you’re leaving host mode. everyone is settled. everyone is having their own conversations. everyone looks like they’re genuinely enjoying themselves. you scan the people, the different groups that everyone is forming and then reforming. it’s weird, but deeply moving, to see every single facet of your life come together like this. people that would have otherwise never have met, all together in the same room. interactions that you never could have predicted, going really well. and all within these walls, your walls.

everyone eats and everyone laughs and you get to show off your new knife to everyone and halfway through the night, atsumu pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around your waist, and you know that this night was meant to see everyone and mingle, but you’re not sure that you want to move from this very spot for the rest of the night and neither does he. in fact, he orders osamu around from his place at the table, telling osamu to clear the table and to grab the game that’s in the cabinet of the tv stand.

osamu doesn’t want to listen, really, he doesn’t, but akaashi starts walking towards the tasks before osamu can refuse. akaashi helps clear the dishes and laughs when atsumu starts yelling at osamu for making akaashi do his work and before you know it, everyone is at the table and all of the dishes are in the sink and the food is put away and there is two stacks of cards in the middle of everyone.

“game’s real easy, even samu can play,” atsumu explains, nodding towards the colorful cards. osamu doesn’t even bite back, just seems happy to be sharing a bench with akaashi. “someone draws a question card and they have to answer it or drink unless someone at the table uses their veto card which they can accrue more of by doing the dares in the other card pile, got it?”

everyone nods. “honestly, we’ve never played with this many people or this many veto cards, so it should be interesting,” you say.

“so, basically, no one is getting out of not answering a question,” sakusa replies.

“that is definitely what that means,” aran agrees.

“alright, atsumu should go first,” osamu says, “it’s only fair.”

“fine, fine,” atsumu says, waving his hand, grabbing a card from the pile, “who is the worst dressed person in this room?” he reads. “okay, actually, a lot of them are like this and there are a lot of people here.”

“well, are you going to drink or answer it?” kita asks.

“you gotta answer it,” hinata says.

“well, someone would be stupid to use their veto on this anyway, because it’s obviously iwa,” atsumu answers quickly, shaking his head and throwing the card down. iwaizumi nods in agreement as oikawa stands up in his seat.

“hey! that shirt is the best piece of clothing hajime owns!” oikawa says.

plenty of insults fly across the table as the game continues. atsumu wasn’t lying. a lot of the cards are very similar in nature, just calling out people in the room for various things like being a bad kisser or still being caught up on an ex. no one even has to use a veto card. they’re all harmless enough, poking fun and joking around, or no one cares enough to force someone to answer.

until it’s your turn.

you reach forward, getting out of atsumu’s lap for just a second to draw the card before he’s pulling you back into him. you and atsumu read the question at the same time, but atsumu reacts much quicker than you do, laughing loudly. if he had been drinking something when you pulled the card, he would have made a huge mess.

“what does it say?” maki asks, nosy, trying to peer over your shoulder and at the card before you read it.

you move away from him, cheeks warm, hoping, praying, if there’s a god out there, that no one uses their veto. you move your hand, ready to drink already as you read, “if you could have sex with any of your partner’s friends, who would it be?”

the only people in the room that aren’t laughing are akaashi and kita and even they are giggling and wide eyed at the question. “i’m drinking,” you say, already bringing the cup to your lips.

“not so fast,” oikawa says, slamming his veto card down on the table, “i’m sure i’m not the only person who would have done this anyway. and besides, i can use hajime’s card later if i need it.”

“no, you will not,” iwaizumi scoffs.

“fine, then you want me to take my card back?” oikawa asks.

“no, obviously not, i want to know yn’s answer,” iwaizumi laughs, directing his attention back to you. in fact, everyone’s attention is on you.

“i don’t think this question was designed to be played when every one of my partner’s closest friends are in the same room?” you challenge.

“tough shit, answer the question,” suna says, pointing his finger in your direction.

“right, and to clarify, that doesn’t include people that used to just be your friends like iwa and maki,” issei says, “because then obviously we know your answer would be me.”

you shake your head, ignoring his comment and taking a deep breath, “this is so stupid.”

“come on, ya gotta play the game,” osamu jeers.

atsumu squeezes your waist, pressing a kiss into the back of your shoulder, “yea, babe, you gotta play the game.” you turn your head and narrow your eyes at him.

“ridiculous that the first thing you two agree on is making me answer this in front of everyone right now,” you scold.

“just get it over with,” atsumu teases, “it’s not hard. even i know it.”

“no you don’t,” you scoff.

“so there is someone on your mind right now?” maki says, leaning forward as if that will make the answer come faster.

“i-,” you start, but anything that you could think of saying would just dig this hole deeper. “well, i-.”

“come on, just say it,” sakusa pokes.

your eyes flick over to him quickly, face burning, absolutely radiating heat now, you’re sure. and you’re sure that everyone can tell how flustered you’re getting, because there is an obvious answer in your mind, one that’s been in your mind since the moment you met him.

“obviously, it’s bokkun,” you mumble and atsumu, true to his word, does know it. he says the name right alongside you, laughing at how perfectly the syllables align. you and atsumu seem to be the only two people at this table that are expecting this answer because the rest of the table is in an uproar now. symphonies of what?!?!?! and bokuto?!!?! and what about me?!?? arise in stereo.

“me?” bokuto asks, floored and flustered in a way that affirms your answer perfectly. you’re feeling just as shy as before and everyone is screaming around you and at atsumu and each other and bokuto, but you offer a small nod to bokuto, just to bokuto, and you watch him attempt, and fail, to hide a smile.

after everything calms down, you’re able to play a few more rounds, thankfully not getting any other question that tops that one, not even when you get the question that reads, was your ex good in bed? and you answered a quick yes and then pushed forward.

the clock is ticking down, the night is getting later and later and as the game is packed up and put back in its safe place beneath the tv, people start to trickle home. hinata and sakusa, issei, kita, aran and suna. you offer goodbyes and thank you for comings and when you walk oikawa, iwaizumi, and maki to the door, you say a very sincere, “i don’t want it to be this long until we do something like this again.”

“come on,” oikawa says, shaking his head, “hajime and i are getting married in less than two months.” oikawa lifts his hand, showing off his dainty ring as if you forgot that they were engaged.

“shit, it’s already that close?” you ask.

“yea,” oikawa nods along, smiling, “most of those dumbasses are invited too, so, it won’t be long, i promise. it’ll be louder, and i’ll be the happiest i’ve ever been, but it won’t be too long.”

you nod, hugging oikawa tightly and then iwaizumi and then maki. “seriously, thank you guys for coming.”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world,” maki says, smiling, “i’m crashing your guys’ lunch tomorrow, so i’ll see you then.”

“obviously,” you reply, locking the door behind them once they’ve left.

the only people left in your living room that don’t live there are bokuto, akaashi, and osamu. before you can make your way back in there, atsumu grabs your forearm and pulls you into him, kissing you hard, hand cupping your cheek, fingers scratching over your jaw.

“what was that for?” you ask when he finally pulls away.

“because i can,” he shrugs, and you take that as an okay to start to move again, but he holds you in place, “and because look at this house we own together, isn’t that crazy?”

you laugh, “yes, yes it is.” you wait to see if there’s anything else.

there is.

“and because i trust you more than anything in this world.”

you cock your head. “okay…,” you say, hesitant.

“and if you want to have sex with bokuto tonight, i would be okay with that,” atsumu finishes, proudly unpredictable and awestruckenly trusting.

you physically have to jump back, unable to process that sentence any other way. “what?!” you ask, loudly, and atsumu can’t stop laughing, shushing you and shaking his head. “no! what?! why would you say that?”

“because i’ve known that you’ve wanted to fuck bokuto our entire relationship and if you want to ask him if he wants to spend the night with us, that would be okay with me,” atsumu says, calmly. way too calmly for what’s coming out of his mouth, you have to admit.

you don’t know what to say. you can barely think or understand what he’s saying, let alone how to respond. “with us?” you ask for clarification.

atsumu nods, “i’m sure he will not be difficult to convince if that’s what you want.”

you’re afraid to ask it because you’re afraid that all of this is just some elaborate joke. or, rather, you’re afraid for only a second after thinking it, because atsumu doesn’t surprise you anymore. he squeezes your forearm, looks you directly in the eyes as you ask, “and it’s something you want?”

“i offered, didn’t i?” he asks back and you nod.

“okay,” you say, nodding again. “i’ll ask him.”

it’s easy enough to pull bokuto aside with osamu and akaashi being as involved in their own conversation as they are. you don’t really know how to approach it, not completely. how do you just ask someone that? but the second that you pull him into the kitchen and away from the few people that are still in your house, he exhales and steps close to you. and it’s not anything that you’ve said all night, it’s just how he’s always acted around you.

you lean against the counter and he follows, shaking his head and standing right in front of you. “you’ve got a lot of cool friends, y’know that?”

“oh, yea,” you nod, punching his shoulder and then poking your finger into the middle of his chest, “the coolest.” he laughs and you can feel it against the tip of your pointer finger. you can hear murmuring in the living room. it fills up the comfortable spaces of silence. you look up at bokuto, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “i don’t really know how to ask this,” you say back, softly enough so that the people in the other room can’t hear your murmur.

bokuto tilts his head, “what’s up? is everything okay?”

“no, yea, really great,” you say, nodding and then you take a deep breath. just say it, just say it, just say it, just say it, just say it. “would you,” you say, you curl your fingers against his chest, “want to spend the night?”

the first emotion to come to the surface is excitement and then quickly after that confusion hits bokuto’s face much harder, like his mind filled in the blanks, but didn’t let himself get his hopes up. “like…,” he trails off, hoping that you’ll explain further without him having to ask.

you reach forward and tug on his forearm, coaxing him closer to you. “like…,” you say, heart beating violently against your chest. you try to evade his gaze, head down, focusing on the feeling of his soft skin against yours, nails scraping against it eliciting a tiny shiver from bokuto.

he reaches down, places his finger beneath your chin, and tilts your head upwards. “like?” he asks, eyes evidently flickering down to your lips. it couldn’t be helped, the way your tongue swipes against your lips and your breath catches in your throat. you just nod.

before his lips meet yours, you both talk at the same time, overlapping one another, but hearing the other perfectly.

“is this okay with atsumu?”

“like, with atsumu too.”

you put both of your hands into bokuto’s hair and he reciprocates quickly, putting both of his hands on either sides of your face and pulling you towards him, lips crashing into his. it’s like he reads your mind, one arm around your waist, one hand bracing the back of your thigh as he props you up on the counter to get closer to you.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper into your lips, leaning forward as if there was any space for you to move into. large hands grip onto the fats of your hips, sliding you to the edge of the counter, stomach pressed up against his, arms sliding down his back, fingernails dragging against the fabric of his shirt.

bokuto pulls away, laughing softly, “so this is why tsum tsum comes into practice complaining about his back.”

“it actually gets much worse than this,” you say back, low and airy, pressing your forehead against his and kissing him once more, quick.

atsumu appears in the archway, leaning against the wall, not an ounce of jealousy on his face, but rather, a very devilish smile. you feel warm regardless, but you don’t make a move to untangle from bo. “so, are you staying the night, bokkun?”

bokuto almost immediately says yes, but then hesitates. “god, yea, i’d really love that, but i-,” he sighs, “i have to make sure akaashi gets home and-”

“i can take akaashi home,” osamu calls from the living room.

“oh, you don’t have to do that, i can just get an uber or something-,” akaashi dismisses.

“no way,” osamu says, shaking his head. from where atsumu is standing, he can peer around the corner and see his brother’s hand grasped around the back of akaashi’s elbow. “let me take you home, keiji.”

“whose home, samu?” akaashi says so quietly that if you were not actively listening for whatever akaashi’s response is, you would not have heard. you decide that that’s enough eavesdropping, actually, allowing them their private conversation and turning your attention back to bo, having your own private conversation as you repeat atsumu’s question.

“so, are you staying the night, bokkun?” you mimic exactly.

he nods, about to say something else maybe or try to kiss you again, but it’s interrupted very quickly as osamu calls out, “we’re out of here.” you barely have time for bo to help you hop off the counter before osamu and akaashi appear in the archway behind atsumu hand in hand.

you look directly at their interlocked fingers and akaashi’s pinkish cheeks and you tilt your head at osamu. osamu looks at bokuto’s hand on your hip and your disheveled hair and he tilts his head at you. you decide to call it even.

you contemplate letting them walk out on their own because there is nothing else in your mind right now than bokuto, atsumu, and a whole bunch of fantasies coming to realization. you don’t do that. you leave bokuto’s grasp, walking towards the front door with akaashi and osamu. atsumu offers a goodbye to akaashi and osamu, unbothered because he’s sure he’ll see osamu a few more times this weekend before he makes his way back home. atsumu is much more concerned with having a very quiet conversation with bokuto.

you only catch bokuto’s concerned, “are you sure about this?” as his head moving back and forth from you to atsumu. and atsumu’s assured, “i’m the one that brought it up.”

“have a safe drive home,” you say to osamu and akaashi at the doorstep. “and a fun rest of your night.”

“yn,” osamu warns, but you just feign ignorance.

“you also have a fun rest of your night, yn,” akaashi says in the same exact tone, tugging on osamu’s hand, placing the other on his bicep.

“ha!” osamu laughs, turning around and pulling akaashi to the car. it’s like he can’t get out of here fast enough. “thanks for having us!” osamu calls from the car window and then they’re gone.

when you shut the door, locking it for the last time, you realize how quiet the house is without the different areas of chatter. in fact, you can’t even hear the conversation that you know is happening in your dining room.

except, there isn’t a conversation happening in your dining room. instead, there is atsumu, the love of your life, the most important person in the world to you making out with bokuto, your closest friend of atsumu’s, the one person you’ve wanted to fuck other than atsumu in the last 4 years. your voice is small, not because you’re timid or embarrassed, but because you think if you speak any louder, a whimper will come alongside it. “can you take me to bed?”

the whimper escapes you anyway as a tiny string of spit connects atsumu and bokuto’s lips and as atsumu looks like he’s trying to regain composure and as he leans over to bokuto and says, “i get to do it all the time, you go ahead.” your stomach is doing a million flips and as bokuto approaches you, your mind goes blank. not that you need it.

because bokuto picks you up, same hold as before. his touch feels familiar and his grasp feels strong. “i don’t even know where i’m going,” bokuto admits as he reaches the top of the stairs. you gesture in the direction of your bedroom and open the door as he walks close enough to it. he leaves the door open, lays you down on the bed and as if he’s pictured this in his mind a million times, he quickly and assuredly kisses down your clothed chest, lifting up the bottom of your shirt to press kisses into your stomach before sinking onto the floor.

everything is happening so fast and you cannot explain how grateful you are because you’ve wanted this for so long and you’re finally getting it. bokuto doesn’t waste a second in hooking his arms under your knees, pulling you to the edge of the bed, spreading your legs, and ducking under your skirt. your thighs squeeze the sides of his cheeks as you feel his warm breath between your legs.

“enjoying yourself, pretty girl?” atsumu asks as he sinks into the bed beside your head, smoothing over your head and lifting your shirt. you can feel both pairs of hands on you independently, but somehow moving in perfect time with each other. it’s overwhelming in the best way. atsumu doesn’t even take your shirt off, just pulls it up far enough for your bra to show and then pulls your bra down enough for your tits to pop out and the way that you are so clothed, but so exposed all at the same time is making you grow warm between your legs.

you whimper at the question, nodding as atsumu runs his hands down your sides and then back up to your tits and then off of you all at once. without them, you can feel bokuto’s completely, nothing to distract you from how big they feel on the inside of your thighs. with him under your skirt, you can’t see anything at all and you want to watch him, but the fact that you don’t know what’s happening, relying on touch alone, is causing you to flood.

he licks a strip into your panties, harsh enough to cause them to push between your lips, digging his tongue into your hole, slipping past the fabric, thick tongue pushing them out of the way with no help at all. you roll your hips into the sensation. “shit,” you breathe.

so focused on the feeling between your legs, you don’t notice atsumu’s cock until he’s pressing the spongy tip against your slightly parted lips. you turn your head for a better angle, parting your lips further, opening your jaw, and taking him in your mouth. atsumu puts his hands on the back of your head, pulling you onto his cock. you’ve had years and years of practice with this which means atsumu knows your limits and capabilities and he gets to move you however he wants as a result.

bokuto’s hand creeps up your inner thigh as he laps at your clothed pussy, sucking the fabric into his mouth and swallowing all of the accumulated juices before slipping his finger into you. your jaw opens further, moaning around atsumu’s cock involuntarily and atsumu needs to feel that again. “shit, bokkun, ‘m gonna need ya to do whatever ya just did again.”

he laughs against your pussy, adding another finger inside of you and you already feel so full. his fingers are so thick, they’re so fucking thick, like four of your tiny fingers are jammed inside of you in two motions, but they’re longer than your fingers too, can reach so much deeper. you’re squirming on his fingers, moving your hips to fuck yourself on bokuto’s fingers and you can’t help how much your hums and whimpers and whines are effecting atsumu. “holy fuck, don’t stop,” atsumu says, hips pressing forward, hands pulling you onto his cock to meet his thrust.

the angle is still slightly awkward, hitting the back of your cheek rather than sliding down your perfect, tight throat like he loves so much, so he swings his leg overtop of you, both knees on either side of your head, balls resting on your chin as he lifts your head and places a pillow underneath. “fuck, that’s better, baby,” he says, barely giving you a warning before fucking into your mouth, letting you hollow your cheeks on his head, tiny movements of his hips pulling the tip in and out of your tight lips.

“she’s close,” bokuto announces into the room, talking about you, not to you, and you tighten around his fingers even more. bokuto pushes his fingers inside of you completely, pulls them out to the tips, pushes inside of you completely, pulls them out to the tips, and then he curls them over and over again, and you come so fucking hard that you can’t even imagine the mess underneath your skirt.

“so fucking wet,” bokuto says, mumbles against your cunt as he moves your panties to the side, pulls his thick fingers out of you and uses the tip of his tongue to coax the come out of your fluttering hole and down his throat. the lewd sounds are filling the room and your ears even more than the sound of atsumu whining and whimpering watching his cock disappear between your lips.

“shit, fuckin’ mouth feels so goddamn good, fuck,” atsumu growls, pulling you by your hair onto his cock and you can barely breathe, spit drooling out the sides of your mouth and down your chin and neck. his strokes are long and slow, relishing the feeling of his length being squeezed by your tight throat. “gonna fuck yer throat all fucking night. won’t even be able to talk tomorrow.”

“fuck,” bokuto says, “gotta- fuck-” all at once you feel even more fucking full. bokuto slips inside of you without a word, stretching your drenched hole around his huge cock. you can feel it in your fucking guts, so fucking deep, speared. you wrap your legs around his waist, holding him in place because you don’t want to not feel him so fucking deep in you. you need to feel him this deep in you forever.

you feel the breeze on your stomach, on your sloppy clit, as bokuto pushes your skirt up and out of the way, not that you could see anything anyway with atsumu where he is and his cock destroying your throat how it is. bokuto reaches down, rubbing small circles into your sensitive, swollen, pretty clit with his thumb. “so pretty,” bokuto mumbles.

you pull bokuto closer with your legs, moving your hips to meet him and he understands perfectly, pulling his hips back and slamming into you. his moans are lower than atsumu’s, more grunts than whimpers, and the fact that you can hear them both is making your walls flutter around bokuto’s thick length. “god, so fucking tight,” bokuto praises, “shit.”

“i know,” atsumu replies, rolling his hips, sliding the underside of his cock against your tongue. “feels so fuckin’ good.” he presses forward, pulls your head onto him until his head hits the back of your throat and then he holds you there. you can’t breathe, gagging on his thick head in your throat, but the noises that are coming out of him are well worth it. they always are. you swallow around his length and something breaks in him.

bokuto starts fucking into you faster, harder, the inside of your thighs already sore and very reminiscent of another first time you had. his fingers are gripping into your waist and your fingers are gripping onto the sheets, unsure of where else to put this pure need, unable to reach atsumu’s back or arms. atsumu sees you, hands moving across the bed, looking for somewhere to root as you take all of the abuse that’s coming to you.

he removes his grip from your hair for a moment, reaching over and grabbing your hand. “pretty girl, hey, baby, here,” he guides your hands to his thighs and tears are streaming from the corners of your eyes because your cunt is throbbing and your throat is burning and you can’t breathe and atsumu is still there to take care of you in ways that you don’t even understand.

you curl your fingers around his toned thighs and everything feels right in the world, everything feels more manageable. it’s something for you to ground yourself on, the feeling of the soft, toned muscle in your hands, against your fingernails, scraping and digging. “shit, doll, feels good, harder, yea?” you nod, effectively shoving atsumu’s cock down your throat even further. you dig your fingernails into the skin harder, harder, not dragging across, but digging into. “fuck, baby.”

bokuto is fucked out of his mind with the feeling of how tight and perfect you are around him and the exchange that’s happening in front of him with you and atsumu. it’s all so fucking much. he can’t stop pounding into you, fucking as deep as he can, slamming the tops of his thighs against the insides of yours, holding you in place with his large hands spanning over your stomach. “fuck, gonna come,” bokuto breathes, stare not pulling away from the way that atsumu and him are making you feel so used, so good.

atsumu answers for you because you couldn’t be expected to answer with your mouth as full as it is. “you can come inside,” atsumu says, looking down at your tear-pricked eyes and swollen lips as you hum an affirmative plea. “she wants you to come inside,” he corrects himself.

“fuck,” bokuto says with a shaky exhale, because he wasn’t exactly expecting that, but it’s exactly what he wanted.

“and where do you want me to come, pretty?” atsumu asks, relentlessly fucking into your throat. the only air that you’ve gotten is in tiny breaths between harsh strokes and inhales from your nose. you feel lightheaded, but the fact that it’s about to be over is much worse than your inability to get a proper breath.

you can’t speak so you move your hand from his thigh, dragging your finger down your throat and fuck, if that wasn’t the cutest gesture atsumu had ever seen. there’s a lack of pressure on your chest as atsumu changes positions, leaning forward, bracing himself against the wall as he changes angles so that he can get even deeper in your throat, can fuck your throat like a pretty cunt.

bokuto watches this unfold and he can’t fucking hold it any longer. it’s so much different than atsumu, the way that bokuto unloads inside of you. he doesn’t still, doesn’t stutter. his hips keep moving at an abusive pace, fucking you even harder than before as stream after stream of his thick come coats your gummy walls. you’re coming around his cock, sobs trying to escape you, but failing because of atsumu’s cock crammed down your throat, heavy balls slapping against your chin with every quick stroke inside of you.

bokuto’s come is spilling out of you. it was inevitable with how fast he was still fucking you and how much he was coming inside of you. it feels like it’s never ending, coupled right along with the noises that are leaving bokuto, low and needy. even after he’s finished filling you, he stays completely inside of you, breath catching, not ready to pull out just yet.

atsumu’s cock is throbbing against your tongue, pulsing, leaking, and he shoves it as far as he can fit it and you’re so sure that he’s going to pump his come directly down your throat, but then he pulls out, opening your mouth with his thumb, letting his tongue fall open in hopes that you mimic it and you do. “needa see it all pretty on yer tongue, baby, open, yea, fuck.”

he doesn’t even stroke himself, comes at the sight of you with your tongue out and messy eyes and swollen lips and gasping for air. his thick come doesn’t spray in ropes against the inside of your mouth, it drools onto your tongue. it leaks out of the tip lazily, pooling and collecting on the dip in your tongue until there’s too much to fit and a part of the fat glob slips down the back of your tongue and he grunts, replacing whatever disappeared down your throat. “all of it, baby, suck,” he directs, tilting your head, placing the tip between your lips and coaxing you to suck whatever’s left from his sensitive slit. you do exactly as you're told and as a reward, you get to hear the sob tear from his throat and watch him wipe away the tiny tears that threaten to fall.

everything is quiet. no one moves for at least two minutes. it takes the entire time for you to catch your breath.

“fuck, shit, i’m sorry i didn’t savor that more,” bokuto breaks the silence, shaking his head, inhale and exhale heavy as he stands up completely, putting his boxers back on.

atsumu takes this as a cue to move as well, getting off of you maybe as he should’ve from the very beginning to help you recover faster. though, you’re actually certain that lack of immediate movement is what allowed you to feel as okay as you do this quickly.

“next time,” you say, or try to say, because it hurts and it comes out shaky and hoarse. atsumu leans down and presses a kiss into your neck and then the side of your face and then your lips. he would be more phased by this if it wasn’t a weekly occurrence.

“yea, maybe come to town more often,” atsumu says, confirming.

“don’t say that,” bokuto says, shaking his head, “because i really will.”

“then, maybe come to town more often,” atsumu repeats, a tiny smirk forming on his lips.

“alright,” boktuo affirms.

atsumu leans down, places a kiss on your forehead. “c’mon, let's get you cleaned up,” he says, helping you up. you don’t try for a thank you or a yes, just give a small nod and move towards the attached bathroom.

“do you have a guest room or something in this cool big house?” bokuto asks, clearly feeling like he’s invading.

“we do, but,” atsumu says, walking out of the bathroom, over to the dresser and pulling out a big t-shirt. he disappears into the bathroom again, water running, clothes shuffling, and emerges with your clothes in hand. he throws them into the laundry hamper in the corner of the room. “you’re welcome to spend the night here.”

“oh! no, no, i wouldn’t want to-,” bokuto starts, but is interrupted by the sink running again, teeth brushing, and now he really feels like he’s invading. but then you walk out of the bathroom, as fresh and clean as you can be without having taken a shower, and you wrap your arms around bo’s bicep. the feeling of displacement fades pretty quickly then.

“yea,” atsumu says, hand on the back of his neck, “someone gets a bit clingy after sex.” atsumu nods towards you and you playfully scowl back at him even though you know it is very true. “just until she falls asleep though. in the morning, she’s usually like, tsumu, fuck off, i’m trying to sleep. it’s weird, really.”

“i mean, if you- yea, i’ll stay if you want me to,” bokuto says and looks down at you nodding very convincingly. you walk over to the bed, pulling bokuto along by the arm and you crawl under the covers, laying perfectly in the middle of the bed. this wasn’t the exact use that you thought you would get out of your king size bed, but you can add it to the list of splurge items that are turning out to be very worth it.

“didja need anything before ya go to bed?” atsumu asks because he knows it’s something that you would ask if you weren’t so unable to ask. bokuto shakes his head no. he can’t imagine needing anything at this moment. “cool.” atsumu shuts the light off and the room goes very dark.

it’s awkward first, weird for only a few moments, figuring out your place in all of this, and then it just kinda works out.

huh, reminds you of something.

♡ tori's polls ♡ ( which tori self-indulgent element was ur fav? )

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maybank-archives · 8 months

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reflection - jj maybank

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

warning: +18. NSFW CONTENT. MINORS DNI. exhibitionist (ish). vaginal sex. masturbation. language. dirty talking. oral sex.

word count: 1.2k

author’s notes: this one took me soooo days to finish. i rewrote this a thousand times lol

masterlist | join the taglist | kinktober masterlist!!!!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Done y/n, the bed frame is installed, the shelves are in the right place, your mirror is set and we’re… dead.” John B says as he throws the last box on the floor.

Finally, I’m all settled in - my place in Outer Banks, which means freedom and no more late-night walks back from the Chateau. Not that crashing at John B’s wasn’t fun, but now everything here is mine, and it’s cozy and perfect.

The guys decided to chill downstairs, drinking off the rest of the earlier beer. I stayed there cleaning the rest of the mess. I grabbed a little towel to clean the window glass and mirror. From the mirror's reflection, I spotted JJ, leaning in the doorframe. I couldn’t help but flash him a big smile.

“You know, I’m pretty darn proud of you,” JJ said, moving closer and giving me a tight hug from behind. “What’s on your mind, milady?” he asked, planting a kiss on my shoulder.

“I think I’m just tired and over the moon. Everything came together just as I imagined it. Now, I’ve got this whole place and it’s perfect, I almost feel like I’m no longer a pogue,”

JJ chuckled. “Nah, once a pogue, always a pogue,” He says brushing his lips to my neck. “ I really dig this mirror, by the way.”

“It’s so pretty and massive, I know it’s kinda silly, but I fucking love this,”

“It’s not silly, I’m dead serious, I like it, you know why?” JJ asked getting closer to my ears “It's kinda in a perfect angle, I can fuck you in the bed or in on the desk, would be a fuckin view no matter where.” He smirked as I stared at him, with a grin on his face, he released me from his arms smacking my ass before leaving the room.

Later that night, after everyone had left, both of us came upstairs, JJ took a shower first and I made sure to be the last one. His little comment made my mind send some familiar signals to my body. So I searched through some boxes for some lingerie and stayed in the bathroom. With a robe on top, I finally stepped out of the room, and there was JJ, stretched out on the bed, watching something on his phone.

"So, I've been thinking about what you said earlier," I mumbled, standing in front of my mirror, playfully messing with my hair. "You know, about the mirror..."

JJ's eyes flicked up from the screen, a sly grin already on his face. When our eyes finally met in the mirror's reflection, I slowly slipped out of my robe. JJ sat up in the bed analyzing every inch of my body.

“Can I help you out of that?

I turn my body to him as I slowly unhook my bra. "I mean, you've already helped me a lot today," I told him. JJ nods, his eyes locked on mine.

"One more thing, wouldn’t be a problem," a mischievous glint fills his eyes as he stands up and gets closer to me. His hands land and my hips and twist them, "God, I'm crazy for you," His breath on the back of my neck instantly makes my body tingle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, pressing his lower body onto mine.

Just as we were earlier, JJ hugs me from behind, but this time, his hand caresses my tits as the other one is sliding inside my panties. His lips leave a trail of wet kisses on the side of my neck.

He massages my wetness with his fingers and pushes them in slowly, curling them until he presses down against my sweet spot. Some breathy moans escape my lips.

“I love the face you make when you moan for me,” JJ murmurs, his comment almost makes me feel embarrassed, but fuck, his lips against my neck, the way he’s pleasuring me with those skillful fingers of his, it’s too good to feel awkward about.

“Always so wet for me, I need to taste you,” JJ whispers in my ears “You want my mouth on you?”

I lazily nod.

He sinks to his knees and wrenches my legs apart, I lean on the corner of the table as JJ grabs my leg and holds it on top of his shoulders. I see him peering up at me as I tangle my hands over his hair.

I let out a hoarse "Yes." as JJ wraps his mouth on my pussy. He licks my clit with soft, teasing strokes, driving me wild with desire. He takes his time, building up my pleasure and making me beg for more. "JJ, please don't stop," I whimper. As if it was an order, JJ fastens the tempo, the more noise and movement I make, the more eager JJ gets with his mouth.

His groans against my skin makes me squirm, my vision was blurry til he withdrew his fingers out of me.

“I’m sorry, but you will finish with me inside of you princess,” He asks as he pushes me in front of the mirror. “I want to look at your face when I slam deep inside you.”

I nod. At this point, I just need to feel him.

“I’ll let you do anything if you just fuck me JJ.”

JJ chuckles, his underwear falls to the floor, his thick cock points up as he gives it a few pumps. The sight of his cock running through his palms makes me crazy. I hunch over, my body leans against the mirror, both of my palms pressed firmly against the glass.

JJ gives my ass a slap before rubbing his length in between my legs.

“Look at us,” He commands huskily

My eyes land on myself, bent over with my legs spread open, my mouth hangs open feeling JJ slowly push against my hole. Looking at JJ, he has his lower lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes are devouring my reflection through his lashes.

“Watch me fuck you from behind,”

My moan is instant as JJ buries himself deeper inside me, his hands gripping tightly around my waist. His thrust gets progressively faster. My sex clutches around him every time he fills me up. There’s no more “teasing” and also there’s nothing graceful about the pounds he gave me.

“Fuck yes,” JJ grunts against my neck.

It’s all moaning, slapping, and slurping sounds filling the bedroom right now, our sweaty bodies slamming each other without a pause.

I feel getting close to reaching that blissful feeling, I take JJ’s hand and place it between my legs. He knows exactly the amount of pressure to put it in because when he strokes it frantically, I'm closer than ever.

“yes, yes, yes”

"Come for me, look how good you take me." JJ stares deeply at me

I almost can’t support my body, every muscle inside me tenses up as I feel his cock pulse, the pleasure builds inside me until finally, it explodes, melting my body.

JJ buries his face in the crook of my neck, trembling against my body as he climaxes as well.

He keeps pumping inside of me, my pussy contracting milking his shaft as he pulls out.

"I've been looking forward to this all day, you have no right being this hot princess," JJ holds me giving me a kiss.

“Gosh, we are so doing that again,”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

✧˚ . taglist ˚✧ (join here): @loverofmarsss

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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lunar-years · 22 days

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I LOVE thinking about royjamiekeeley's future home together and how all three of their styles would come together to create a living space that is so very them :)

I think it's especially important to Jamie because he's never really had a space of his own as an adult that he's actually considered home before. Like, he bought his place in Manchester when he was just coming into having actual money--and a lot of it--for the first time, and he was spending it not just on himself but also on updates and renovations to Mummy's place and eventually on a home for his dad as well. So for himself he bought his car and a house but then didn't quite know what to do with the rest of it. As a result, for years his home there is just sort of an un-curated mix of the random shit he bought on a whim because he suddenly had the money to do so. Like the painting he walks past everyday and thinks "do I actually like that?" and the foosball table and the garish furniture he picked out because it looked dead cool in the showroom but really doesn't go together at all in his house.

Then when he moved to Richmond, he didn't really want to be there anyway, did he, so it was easier to just hire someone to furnish it for him. And he was on the outs with mummy, so even having family photos up made him feel weird and sad, and there were a couple of things he slowly acquired (like his balloon dog and his lavish headboard), mostly when shopping with Keeley, that he does love, but the house itself is sleek and modern and sterile, and it never really feels quite like his. By the time he comes to think of Richmond as home, he's spending most of his time at Keeley's or Roy's anyway, so he never bothers to make it more his own.

Then they all buy a house together, and Jamie is thrilled but also so overwhelmed, because he's never felt like he had such free reign before in a space since he was hanging up those posters in his childhood bedroom. Thus: his grand idea, presented with great enthusiasm and pride, of framing up his and Roy's England kits side by side in the living room, to which Keeley says absolutely fucking not. But then Keeley brings in her pink chandelier and her neon wall art from the moving van and Roy says absolutely fucking not, and Roy tries to hog all the shelves in the bookcase for his mystery/thriller paperbacks, to which Jamie and Keeley are both like, absolutely fucking not!! Eventually the living room (where they spend most of their time) becomes the perfect mashup of all of them. The furniture is neutral enough for Roy, but accessorized with a ton of throw pillows courtesy of Keeley, and one of Jamie's transformers is next to Roy's books and Keeley's knick-knacks on the shelves, and they've got a gallery wall with photos and framed bits and pieces of all of them.

They have a two-floor home but the main bedroom is of course on the first floor (Roy can't do stairs), and a giant ensuite with a spa tub for Keeley (and for Roy when his knee is acting up), and a shower big enough so that Jamie rarely has to shower alone, if he doesn't want to. Then there's Roy's office and a media room for all of Jamie's gaming consoles and for the boys to watch match tapes that's filled up with all of their medals/trophies/awards. Keeley rarely goes in there, but when she wins like, Boss Ass Bitch of the Year or something (a real award TO ME), Roy and Jamie insist it goes up right alongside their premier league medals, and ceremoniously place it there in a way that has Keeley giggling kicking her feet in love with them <3

Roy's more set in his ways from years of living on his own, so Jamie and Keeley distract him as they decorate the rest of the house by giving him full control of the kitchen, because he's the one who's going to be using it most often, anyway. He gets all the appliances and everything configured, top-grade, with Simon's helpful input. And most importantly, he also makes sure there's a big island he can work at with stools for Keeley and Jamie to sit in and sip their wine prettily or "help" him by aimlessly chopping vegetables as he goes about all the hard work of actually cooking their meals. This is secretly his favorite part of being in the kitchen. He makes sure the stools are very comfortable for them. Also, the fridge is always covered in Phoebe's report cards and drawings and homemade cards :)

Then the upstairs is used for the guest bedrooms for when any of their parents or friends come to stay, plus Phoebe's bedroom/bathroom and Keeley & Jamie's overflow closet and Keeley's home office (she likes to be a floor above to help drown out the noise and help her stay focused when Roy and Jamie are home and screaming at the television about sports on the main floor, or else shagging each other senseless in their bedroom while Keeley still has emails to attend to, thank you.)

And there's a half pitch in the backyard because of course there is, when you're that rich you've got to have a least one thing that lavish. And a garden that Roy really takes to tending, surprisingly, and loungers for Keeley and Jamie to suntan as Roy hovers over them menacingly with a bottle of sun cream.

Ultimately it's theirs and it's home and it's wonderful and even though they all keep a hold of their former houses for financial and media purposes, they rarely ever go back to them. ❤️

#royjamiekeeley #ted lasso #jamie tartt #keeley jones #roy kent #ship post #random musings this morning

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idontknowwhattoputasmyusernameee · 8 months

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Intimidation

Word Count: 3K

Pairing: rots!Anakin x fem!reader

Warnings: none just fluff, but let me know if I've missed anything.

A/N: I have had this sitting for so long and I've been itching to post it. It is my very first imagine, so we'll see how this does. Probably have many more to come.

He was intimidating.

There was something about him that was hard to place.

The way he looked was something out of a fairytale; his eyes were hard and steely, his jawline strong and sharp, his lips pink and pouty. He moved with confidence in the room, his steps controlled yet graceful. His presence seemed to demand respect from those around him.

He was definitely attractive.

Too attractive to be a Jedi.

You felt a heavy, electric pressure on the side of your face. Every time you tried to sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eye, he would be looking downward or up towards the ceiling, avoiding any kind of eye contact.

You tried to ignore the magnetic pull of Anakin's gaze, but it was impossible. Every time his eyes met yours, you felt a wave of heat wash over you and your heart seemed to skip a beat. You knew deep down that this couldn't be real, that perhaps your infatuation with him was causing you to imagine things that weren't really there.

Mace Windu's deep voice cut through the daydream,“That's all for today," he said firmly. He gave you all a slight nod. “May the force be with you,” he added before turning away.

You stood up stretching your aching limbs. You hated these debriefings, feeling drained after every one. A quick glance showed the faces of the Jedi Knights in the room were heavy too, etched with fatigue. Reports flashed on the hologram in the middle of the room, grim reminders that loss and death had become unavoidable realities in this war and there was no end in sight.

Not something you would want to hear at eight in the morning. You were just glad that you had the day off, so a nap sounded like an amazing idea.

The crowd around you began to surge forward, and you were soon engulfed in a sea of people, all jostling for the exit. Suddenly, your foot caught on something and you stumbled, throwing out your arms as you tumbled forward, into the broad chest of a large man. He caught you quickly, his grip strong and sure.

As you started to apologize, you looked up into the face of none other than Anakin Skywalker himself. He was standing there holding your arm, smiling kindly.

"Careful there," he teased, you felt his fingers slowly slid from your forearm to your shoulders to steady you.

A flush crept up your cheeks as you tried to look away, the intensity of his cerulean eyes too much to bear. You were suddenly acutely aware of the sound of your own breathing and the warmth radiating from his body.

You avoided eye contact, mumbled an apology, and scurried away from him as you felt your face heat up. You tried to disappear into the background but could feel his piercing gaze burning a hole in your back.

Anakin Skywalker, the Jedi Knight renowned for his exceptional piloting skills and his connection to the Force, had always intrigued you. From afar, you had admired his bravery and determination, but up close, his presence was overwhelming. His mere gaze sent shivers down your spine, and his captivating smile left you momentarily breathless.

It was safe to say that Anakin Skywalker intimidated you.

…

The Jedi library was a grand room, encompassing almost an entire section of the temple. Shelves adorned with ancient manuscripts, scrolls, and books lined the walls; each tome a repository of knowledge from across the galaxy. The scents of parchment paper and aged ink filled the air, while glowstones illuminated the space in a soft, ethereal light. Tables were arranged in circular clusters like small islands in a sea of knowledge, beckoning exploration. It was as if all the secrets of the universe had been contained within these walls, offering solace and tranquility for those who sought it.

And yet...

There had been another encounter earlier in the afternoon.

It embarrassed you to no end how awkward you were with the man. But something about him made you freeze, run away, and hide.

Earlier before coming to the library you had just left the meditation chambers, relaxed and fully focused for whatever study sesh you were diving into. Stepping into the elevator , you hit the button for the ground level. Not even two seconds later a voice called out to you.

“Hold it for me please.” The voice, you recognized to be Anakin’s called out for you.

Maybe it was a slip of your finger, or the instinct to run away. Whatever it was, the doors closed right in Anakin’s face.

The moment you realized what you had done you let out a sigh of frustration. What was wrong with you? Why couldn’t you just be normal?

Now the situation was eating you up inside as you flipped each dusty page of one of the thousands of books in the library. The frown on his face engraved in your mind. He probably thought you were a freak.

You groaned into your hands, earning a shush from other people around you.

“What’s got you in such a sour mood?” A female voice suddenly questioned, causing you to jump slightly.

Ashoka Tano stood above you a brow raised at your stressed out figure. Although she was barely sixteen and you nineteen, the two of you were very good friends.

“Kriff Ashoka, why are you in here? Aren’t you banned from the library?” You questioned.

She rolled her eyes,”Actually it was a one year ban, and not that it matters but it was mostly Anakin’s fault.”

“Right, he knocked half of the shelves down and destroyed a quarter of the ancient language books.” You snickered.

“He started it !” She exclaimed defensively.

“Shh!” You whispered harshly. “Keep your voice down, unless you want to get banned again.”

“Okay okay,” she whispered back,”what are you working on?”

“Master Yoda asked me to give a quick rundown on a newly charted planet, so far I haven’t really found anything worth mentioning.” You answered, flipping open another book.

“Boo, sounds boring,” she said, with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She grabbed your wrist and tugged you up from the chair. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“Right now?” You asked in shock.

“Yes now, I heard they’re serving pasta.”

Your eyes widened with excitement and you leaned forward, intrigued. "What kind of pasta?"

A mischievous grin spread across her face and she ticked off on her fingers, "Lasagna, fettuccine Alfredo, spaghetti carbonara..."

“Alright I’m sold,”you grabbed her hand,”let’s go.”

…

“Then he had the audacity to ask me if I’ve been paying attention,” Ashoka shook her head,”The nerve.”

“Mmm,” You hummed in agreement,”Well were you?” you asked, taking a sip of blue milk.

She gave you a coy smile,”Well…I was staring at Enzo's ferociously large biceps.”

You choked on your drink, taken aback by the words that slipped out of her mouth.

Ashoka gently rested her hand on your back and gave a few light pats as you coughed. She smiled with amusement,"Oh look, how convenient."

She pointed over to Anakin who had just walked into the cafeteria. His eyes swept across the room, then stopped when they met yours. He started walking towards you with a determined stride. You felt all the air in your lungs disappear, and your stomach seemed to somersault inside of you. Every step he took felt like an eternity as his gaze stayed locked on yours.

You felt your heart hammering in your chest and a wave of nausea fill your stomach. As every ounce of common sense told you to bolt away from the table, you were physically unable to move anything except for your hands, which trembled as your fingers tightened on the edge of the table.

What was happening to you?

“Sorry I took so long, I got caught up in conversation with Master Mundi," Anakin sighed heavily, sitting down across from you and Ashoka. "Also the elevator took a while ,” he added, looking directly at you.

You almost went into another coughing fit.

“Master, what a nice surprise,” Her face then broke into a mischievous grin. “You remember Y/N, right Anakin?”

Your cheeks flushed red as he looked your way.

“Of course,” he said smoothly. “How have you been Y/N?”

You smiled politely, “Good.”

“Y/N was just about to-"

"Leave, actually," you interrupted her.Your plate was still mostly full, but you couldn't bear the tension and discomfort that had already set in. You didn't dare meet Anakin's gaze again, and instead busied yourself with gathering your things.

Ashoka shot you a confused look, but didn't try to stop you as you stood up from the table.

Anakin looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. "Oh, alright. See you around, then," he said with a small smile.

"Uh, yeah. See you." You managed to squeeze out the words before practically sprinting out of the cafeteria.

Once outside, you leaned against the closest wall and took deep breaths to steady yourself. You couldn't believe how much power Anakin Skywalker had over you - a mere acquaintance at best. You had never been so thrown off balance by anyone before.

...

With your overthinking mind, you had concluded that they were playing a prank on you. It was probably your sleep deprived mind or your coffee addiction that fueled this thinking. But, Anakin and Ashoka were up to something.

Every time you showed up to see Ashoka, she would beam from ear to ear and let out an excited, “Oh, Anakin’s here!” You could feel your cheeks flush as the Jedi Knight appeared and you scrambled to come up with a plausible excuse to leave.

Even when you weren't with Ashoka, he would somehow be conveniently around you. It was as if he were seeking you out.

No matter where she went, Anakin seemed to materialize out of thin air. In the vast hallways, as soon as he appeared at the corner she'd quickly turn around and hurry in the opposite direction. When walking around the temple grounds, there he was again; standing tall against the rising sun, his features illuminated by a solitary ray of light.

It's been two weeks, and quite frankly you were starting to become exhausted with this charade or whatever thing this was.

The only places where you could find solitude were your quarters and the library.

So that's were you found yourself today, in the Temple Library.

Your fingers were tangled in your hair, which fell wildly around your face. Crisp pages of books lay open amongst a scattering of pens and highlighters on the table.

Two hands slammed in front of you, making you look up. You jumped in surprise.

“Alright spill,"Ashoka demanded with impatience.

“Spill what?” You tried to act nonchalant.

Ashoka rolled her eyes, “You know what. Why are you avoiding Anakin?"

“I’m not avoiding him,”You mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest, looking away from the other girl.

"Not what I heard," she countered, folding her own arms, matching you stance. When the silence continued, she sighed,” Y/N, I know you like him."

You stared blankly at Ashoka with disbelief clear in your stare. She knew. Of course she knew. It was so obvious.

"Plus he's been whining to me for the past couple of weeks."

"Whining?" You repeated, taken aback.

Ashoka nodded, "Yeah, he's been complaining about how you've been avoiding him like the plague. He thinks you hate him or something." Her voice grew n octave lower, trying to imitate him,"Does she not like me? Am I being too forward? Did I do something wrong?"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Anakin Skywalker whining to Ashoka about you.

"I don't hate him," you finally admit. "I just...don't know how to act around him."

"You act the same way you always do," Ashoka shrugged. "He's just a person,Y/N. It pains me to say it but... a really attractive person." she made a quiet gagging noise.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't help but feel a small flutter in your chest at her words.

"Just talk to him," she encouraged. "I promise he's not that scary."

"Alright," you nodded,"I'll try."

...

This was not what you were expecting. You hoped to corner him in one of the many hallways, but instead you were stuck with him and Ashoka in an elevator.

"How long has it been?" Anakin asked.

"Five minutes,"Ashoka answered.

The air inside was starting getting thick from all of the carbon dioxide being exhaled from your lungs. You shifted uncomfortably, finding yourself caught between Anakin and Ashoka. The small space felt too intimate, and you could feel Anakin’s eyes on you even if you refused to look his way.

"Alright, I've had it," Ashoka quickly stood up, igniting one of her sabers to cut a large enough hole to jump through. "I'm going to get help, be right back."

"Ashoka!" Anakin yelled,"That's not smart."

But she ignored him, jumping above the elevator and vanishing out of sight.

You had just been left alone in an elevator with Anakin Skywalker. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you couldn't help but wonder if this had all been a setup. Ashoka's sudden exit made it feel like an ambush, as if the two of them had planned to leave you alone together.

The silence between the two of you was agonizingly uncomfortable. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Anakin, so you kept your gaze trained straight ahead.

"So," Anakin finally broke the silence. "You've been avoiding me."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. It wasn't like you could tell him that he made you nervous just by existing.

"I haven't been avoiding you," you lied, feeling guilty for not being truthful.

Anakin let out a small laugh, "Right. Because turning around and walking the other way every time you see me is totally normal."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment. He had noticed after all.

"I'm sorry," you finally admitted. "I don't know what to say around you."

Anakin turned to face you, his expression softening,"That's alright."

"I've been meaning to talk to you actually,"you started, finding a sudden burst of courage. "I um... well Ashoka said that, you..."

He waited patiently, raising an eyebrow in encouragement. You took a deep breath before continuing.

"Ashoka said that you might have feelings for me," you blurted out, feeling your face heat up even more at the admission.

"Well its about time you noticed,"he chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've been waiting weeks for you to figure it out."

Even though you knew it to be true, you couldn't help the wave of shock that passed over you at his confession. You had never expected Anakin Skywalker to have feelings for someone like you.

"So you do like me?" you stupidly asked.

He laughed, his eyes lighting up in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the galaxy. "Of course I like you," he said, slowly stepping towards you. "Was it not obvious?"

You felt your heart beating faster as Anakin drew closer, finally standing right in front of you. You could smell the musky scent of his cologne and it sent shivers down your spine.

"I never realized," you admitted sheepishly, feeling ashamed for not noticing something so obvious."I honestly thought it was some cruel joke."

His smile was soft and warm as his hand reached up to slowly smooth a piece of your hair out of the way.

"Do you like me," he softly asked,the intensity in his eyes making it hard to form coherent thoughts.

You nodded your head, unable to find words as you stared up at him. His hand trailed down from your hair and cupped the side of your face gently, bringing it closer to his own.

"Can I kiss you," he whispered,his breath hot against your skin. Your heart was beating wildly and you could feel the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Please," you breathed out, barely louder than a whisper.

His lips brushed against yours tentatively, hesitantly testing the waters. You closed your eyes and parted your lips slightly, giving into his advances. A tingling sensation rippled all throughout your body. It was almost electric as you ran your hands through his short curls, his fingers curling around the back of your neck. He pulled you closer to deepen the kiss, and it only fueled your desire.

Every inch of your body was on fire as Anakin's hands started trailing up and down your sides, sending shivers through you.

You could feel his need for you in the way he kissed you - a sense of urgency and raw hunger that made it clear this was not just any ordinary kiss.

As the intensity grew, so did your own desire rippling through your veins like an inferno. The air around you felt electric with attraction as if nothing else mattered in that moment except for each other.

You broke apart gasping for breath, Anakin's voice husky as he spoke quietly into the space between you. "I've been wanting to do that since I first met you."

A dazed smile broke out on your face,"Me too."

A loud bang from outside drew both of your attentions away.

"Alright lovebirds, I'm busting you out." Ashoka yelled from the other side.

The loud groaning from the metal doors echoed throughout the elevator. Revealing the light from the hallways on the other side.

"Alright come on out,"Ashoka yelled, hidden and out of sight.

Anakin made one last move, kissing your cheek, your nose, and lastly a longing kiss on your forehead before leaving the elevator.

He paused looking back with a smirk,"Until next time."

Feeling the warmth radiating from his parting words, you smiled and watched him disappear into the hallway.

"Well, well, well,"Ashoka said with a grin as you stepped out of the elevator. "Looks like someone had a good time in there."

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, trying to hide the blush that was creeping up on your cheeks."Shut up."

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daenysx · 5 months

Note

Hiya darling, I just saw that your requests were open so obviously I had to jump at the opportunity. Could you write sth about Aegon and maybe the reader is his girlfriend? And this time he promises himself to do things right and not just jump into the physical intimacy right away bc he's serious about her. So he's trying to restrain himself, but she's making it hard for him without even knowing, bc everything seemingly innocent turns him on lol. And then she's a bit irritated bc he's getting irritated and keeps pushing her away and she thinks that maybe she did something wrong?

It doesn't need to be pure smut, but if you could make it a bit spicy and fluffy it'd be greatly appreciated! 💖💖

thank you so much for requesting, angel, i tried my best but honestly i'm not sure if this is good enough ♡ i hope you like it! requests are open!!

aegon targaryen x fem!reader modern au (kinda nsfw)

promises

aegon wakes up to an empty bed.

he blinks slowly, his hair falls on the comfy pillow as he adjusts his head, and he feels the spot next to him. the sheets are still warm but you are not there, confusion and curiousity makes aegon's brain fuzzy the first thing in the morning. he sits on bed, rubs his eyes until he feels numb, and leaves the warmth behind him as he steps out of his room.

it is your first sleepover at aegon's, and he is excited by all means. he remembers the night, the wine bottle, and your smiles. you were glowing under the soft lights of his living room, you gave him lots of kisses, and he kissed you back. he remembers leading you to bed, cuddling you under the sheets, and the way you wrapped your arms around him. he buried his face to your neck as you fall asleep and promised not to ruin what he has with you silently.

aegon's kitchen is big enough but he keeps his glasses at the highest shelves. you are trying to get one of them on your tiptoes, wearing an old shirt from his closet and your sleep shorts. he likes seeing you like this, he decides. like you belong in his life.

you get the glass successfully, you fill it with water and drink it all in one go. aegon watches you, leaning to the wall. you finish the water and put your glass on the counter. turning your back, you see your lover waiting for you to realize him.

"good morning, baby." you say, aegon loves hearing the word baby from your mouth.

"morning." he says back. you give him a kiss on his cheek. "slept well?" you ask, even your morning voice is sweet to him. he nods, brushes his lips on your hair and fakes a kiss. you wrap your arms around his waist as you lead him back to his room.

"it's still early." you say.

"maybe we should go back to sleep." aegon says as he holds your hand.

you both find your ways back to bed, aegon lifts the sheets to get under them. he misses your warmth even though you are here with him, it's addictive and he has never been great with his obsessions. the thoughts of being together with you all the time, every way, makes his head spin. he closes his eyes and takes a calming breath.

aegon has a love-hate relationship with promises. the promises he gave to his mom, i'll be good mom, the promises he gave to aemond, and the promises he keeps giving himself. he thinks they make his life worthy somehow, he tries to prove that he is actually capable of doing something he gave his word for. no one has ever told aegon how hard it is to keep a promise, though. he finds himself imagining different scenarios of him breaking all those promises and being somewhat free.

you came into his life when everything was more difficult. he didn't even know what you see in him, why would someone like you stay with him? you deserve sunshine and happiness, aegon has broken memories behind him. not all of them was his fault to be true, but he had his fair share of ruined relationships. he was expecting to ruin the things with you as well, because why not, but it's not going as he'd guessed. it's going actually well, with you.

he is careful not to make any mistakes, the ones he knows from his past anyways. he is careful not to rush into things with you, even though he wants is badly. you in his apartment, playing with his beloved sunfyre, wearing his shirts, kissing him like he's worth it, calling him baby like he deserves it...he wants everything with you.

"i was thinking we could do something other than sleeping." you say gently, getting him out of his thoughts.

"yeah?" he asks, gets comfy on bed as you stroke his hair. "like what, pretty girl?"

you answer by starting a kiss. aegon parts his lips for you, you lean into him. the kiss lasts for seconds, you can see the first lights of the day in the room. you cup aegon's cheek with your one hand while the other twirls his hair between your fingers. aegon kisses you back and you find the courage to take the next step.

you give him one last kiss as he lies on bed, and you throw one leg over his body to get closer to him. you can feel his hardness under your leg and your stomach tightens. you press yourself as an attempt for relief and aegon holds your thigh to keep you steady. he breaks the kiss to look at you with an expression you don't quite like.

he stays still but you think maybe he's pulling away from you, and your courage feels like there's a pit in your chest. you try to pull your leg back but you can't. you try to smile when he frowns, you are almost ashamed that you are pressing yourself to him when he does nothing.

"i'm sorry." you whisper. "i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

aegon looks at you with glassy eyes. "don't be sorry, please. you never make me uncomfortable."

"i mean-" you start, but the words don't come out easily. "i know we didn't really do anything before but i- i thought-"

insecurity starts dripping from your words and aegon would be damned if he ever let you think you are doing something he doesn't want. "no, no, lovely. it's just-" he says, rubbing your skin. "it's all me. i just- didn't want to rush into things and-"

he stops talking and it worries you. "and what?" you ask silently.

"i don't want to lose this." he sounds afraid and broken. "i don't want to lose what we have. i don't want to ruin everything."

he blinks down a slow tear, and it breaks your heart. "aegon." you say. "you think you will ruin things with me just because we get physical?"

the conversation turns serious so quickly. aegon blinks again. "i've never been good in relationships. i want you so much, but i don't mind waiting. you didn't do anything wrong, it's all me."

"baby." you cup his cheek. "you are my boyfriend, and i want to be closer with you. i promise, you wouldn't ruin anything, and it's all good for me."

he tilts his head to see your eyes. "no rush?"

"no rush." you kiss him on his chin. "but still, you don't have to wait."

aegon kisses you and he feels a deadweight has been lifted from his chest. he thinks it's all gonna be okay, now that you know his true intentions. he pulls you on his lap until he sits on bed, he leans against headboard. the kiss takes his breath away, he helps you sit properly on him.

"we can continue if you want, or we can stop here." he whispers to your ear. "anything you want."

"i want you, aegon." you whisper back.

he likes that combination of words. he helps you take your shorts off without leaving the bed, you pull down his sweatpants and his boxers. aegon touches your inner leg, your skin is hot. he drags his fingers further until he finds what he's looking for.

you lift your hips against him, he's getting harder every passing second. you wrap your fingers around him, stroking him until he's fully hard.

"i'm not gonna last if you keep doing that." he says desperately.

"can we stay like this?"

you smile and give him a kiss. your fingers guide him to your entrance and he helps you putting it in by angling himself properly. your wetness slides against him, he tries to find your clit after a moment of catching his breath. you hold the hand on your cunt, bringing it to your mouth to kiss the back of it.

he agrees, he doesn't think he can manage to last long with fast movements and strong strokes. this is grounding and calming, he is fully inside you and you are comfortable on his lap. you keep him inside you as you put your head on his chest. he kisses your hair and rubs your back.

"thank you for being honest with me." you say. aegon realizes your voice gets sleepy and he keeps rubbing your back.

he kisses your forehead as a way of answering. "come on, let's go back to sleep." he slides down on bed to put his head on the pillow.

you nod. "but we'll continue once we wake up."

aegon laughs. "we kinda have to, i don't know how to handle more of your teasings at this point."

"i'm not teasing you!"

"yeah, baby, of course you're not." he rolls his eyes and smiles.

#aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x you #aegon x you #aegon x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #modern!aegon

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mushhroooms · 12 days

Text

Bad Dream (Chris Redfield x Gender-neutral reader)

Gender-neutral pronouns because I know I write way too much x female reader stuff, so I wanted to do something different because I know it’s not just she/her’s in the Resident Evil community so this is for everyone!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ Chris had left on a mission, caressing your face and kissing you sweetly before walking out the door

It had been months but you didn’t worry. He would find time to call you or send little texts to check up on you when he knew it was safe.

But then they stopped, you didn’t think much of it, he might just be occupied but, you tried to ignore the sense of dread that filled you after the third day, anytime Chris has gone on a mission, you never went more than a day without at least a text from him. You were worried, but you tried to hide it, surely he just had to be busy…

But then the knock came on the door and when you opened it, you saw the men in uniform. As you realize what had happened to your beloved husband you feel your heart drop. “We’re sorry for your loss…” After that, those words became normal, every time anyone who knew you and Chris saw you, they would tell you those words. This couldn’t be real, right? But after 2 months, the reality finally fully set in and your head came down from the clouds. Your husband was dead.

You didn’t leave bed that day, or the next day after that, or the day after that…

Chris was shocked when he and his squad returned from their mission and found out everyone had thought they died.

But- They had been talking to their loved ones… turns out, their phones were bugged months ago. They hadn’t spoken to real people besides each other in months, just simply robots to trick them. God, that guy had been a sneaky bastard.

They were all worried, everyone they knew thought they were dead.

Chris immediately thought of his partner… How had they taken the news? Were they ok?

Chris didn’t bother to wait, as soon as they were cleared he was in his car and speeding to their house.

When he pulls up, he can see your best friend at the door. Food in hand and worriedly knocking on the door. He gets out of the car, heart heavy and worried for his partner.

As your best friend hears his car door shut, they turn around, their eyes widen and they nearly drop the food in their hands.

“Chris!? You’re alive!?” They ask in shock

He nods “It’s a shock I know. Are they ok?” He asks worriedly

Your best friend shakes their head. “They won’t answer my calls or texts, not just mine, from anyone, even their parents.” They pause “How are you alive?”

“I’ll explain everything later.” He says as he begins to look through his bag.

Chris’s worry grows when they mention his partner has not answered anybody’s calls or texts and he fishes his keys out of his bag. Unlocking the door and opening it slowly, the house is dark and stuffy, The curtains are shut and he can see dust collecting on shelves and tables, but he also sees there are no dishes in the sink, Have they eaten? Drinken water?

Your best friend places the food on the counter while Chris heads upstairs.

He walks to the bedroom, bracing himself just in case of a worst-case scenario. His palm touches the door gently, and he hesitates. The worst cases running through his mind of what he’ll find on the other side of the door. But, he has to know… He gently pushes the door open, it creaks softly. He can see a lump on the bed under the blankets and dread fills him… What if they were dead?

“Baby?” He calls out softly

He sees movement and the dread that had filled him goes away. They were alive! But he’s still filled with worry for his partner.

They move the covers off their head. They looked exhausted despite the fact it was obvious they hadn’t left bed in god knows how long. They looked malnourished and in desperate need of a shower. Their eyes were puffy from crying. His heart broke at the sight.

“Chris?” Their voice is weak, probably from all the dust and nothing to drink. He can see the tears brimming in their eyes.

He rushes to the bed, kneeling next to the edge of the bed.

“It’s me- It’s me, baby” He speaks softly with his own tears growing in his eyes.

They shake their head “No- You can’t be real” They say shakily, thinking they must have gone crazy or died.

They sob “You can’t be real. You-” their words die down as he cups their face with rough, calloused hands crafted for war… but his touch is so gentle… so tender… so- so grounding.

They begin to sob harder “Chris!”

He gets onto the bed next to them and pulls them into his arms quickly, shushing them and running his hand through their hair.

“Shh, it’s ok, baby. I’m here now” He whispers softly

“But- How!? They-They-” He places a finger to their lips.

“I’ll tell you later, I promise. I just need to comfort you right now.” He puts their head against his chest and their sobs grow as they feel his heartbeat.

‘You feel that? You feel that heartbeat, sweetheart? I’m alive. And I’m not dead nor dying anytime soon.” He kisses their head as he continues to run his hand through their hair.

“I need you to tell me something, baby.” He says, pulling them away from his chest so he can look into their eyes.

They sniffle and wipe their eyes, looking at him.

“When was the last time you ate? Drinken water? Showered?” He asks softly with worry clouding his tone.

They look ashamed “I-I don’t know…” They speak softly “I-I just, I just wanted to stay in bed- I wanted to wake up and found out it was a bad dream!” They sob softly

His hands cup their face again “I understand, sweetheart. I’m sorry you’ve been going through this… But, I’m here now. Ok? I’m not leaving again anytime soon. It was just a bad dream.” He kisses their forehead.

His thumbs stroke their cheeks softly, wiping tears away as he does so. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I never ever want to see you like this again.” He whispers

They hug him, crying into his chest. His arms wrap around them tightly. They can feel his muscles against their back, his warmth, his heartbeat. This was real. He was here. He was alive.

“I love you so much, Chris.” They sob

“I love you too, baby. More than anything.” He whispers

#chris redfield fluff #chris redfield x reader #resident evil fluff #resident evil x reader #chris redfield comfort #Resident evil comfort #hurt/comfort

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neon-junkie · 10 months

Text

Chef!Crosshair x Server!Reader Headcanons

This has been stuck in my drafts for a while, so I figured I'd tidy it up, and hit post. Reader is gender-neutral. 2k words. I think Crosshair would deffo be a chef in a modern setting! A little self indulgent as I'm a bartender/server... hehehehe...

Crosshair isn't quite the top dog, but second in line. Still, he runs the kitchen, and Maker forbids anybody to step out of line when Crosshair is on shift.

Or in general, for that matter. Crosshair has no problem breaking one of his chefs down to tears if they forget one simple task, like day dotting food stock, or ensuring that the fridges are at the correct temperature.

"A baby could do this job better than you. Why can't you pull your karking socks up, and get some sense through your thick skull?!"

Crosshair is a big meanie, to put it blankly. He has respect for those who do their job right, but if you're acting like an idiot in his kitchen, then all hell will break loose.

He's snappy to the front of house staff, too. Including the servers. Didn't scrape the plates enough? That deserves a telling off. Rushing him for orders? Fuck off. And if you dare steal a chip? Might as well die.

Crosshair doesn't like mess, clutter, or laziness, and everybody knows damn well how much it irritates him. Just don't be stupid, essentially.

Anyway, you've applied to this popular street food style restaurant. It's not posh, far from it. The food is fatty and filling, the perfect hangover cure, and you're guilty of being a regular.

The Manager, Hunter, doesn't seem surprised when you apply, and your interview is essentially a chit-chat, getting to know each other, seeing as you've already met from coming in on the regular.

It's finally time for you to put your uniform on, and be introduced to the rest of the staff. Everybody is lovely, to say the least, as you've met them before from being a customer.

Then you go into the back of house, and meet those who have blessed your stomach time and time again.

Hunter's eyes trail the kitchen before he asks, "where's Cross?" and another staff member shrugs whilst replying, "out the back."

Hunter, after letting out a grumble, leads you to the back entrance, explaining that this is the staff smoking area. Just as he's about to step outside, the door opens, and a tired-looking man in pristine chef's whites stands in the doorway.

He lets out another puff of his cigarette before discarding it, only to choke on the smoke as his eyes meet yours. His hand comes up to clear his throat, and you notice the tattoos and burn marks scattered over his toned arms. He's clear of jewellery, but you instantly know he's the type to wear rings and chains when he's off shift.

"Cross, I want to introduce you to our new server," Hunter pulls his gaze from yours, and after saying your name, Crosshair fails to make eye contact with you.

Only now do you notice his face tattoo, darkly contrasting against his silver hair. Is it dyed? Or is he really this stressed out from his job?

"Nice to meet you," Crosshair mutters as he extends his hand, and shakes yours. "Now, if you'll excuse me. I have stock to count."

And with that, he's pushing past you and Hunter, disappearing into the kitchen.

Hunter turns back to you with a sigh, "he doesn't talk much. Not a fan of strangers, but I'm sure he'll warm up to you."

Oh, how right Hunter is.

Your first week went well, and you're slowly starting to establish a place for yourself within your new work environment.

Today is your usual weekday shift. Not too busy, but not slow paced either. The lunch rush has finished, and you're tasked with cleaning up tables. Another stack of plates is brought into the kitchen, and you're going through them one by one, scraping the leftovers into the bin before stacking them on the shelves for the pot washer to clean, when he's back from his cigarette break.

You can feel somebody's eyes on the back of your head, practically burning a hole through your skull. Curious, you peer over your shoulder, and lock eyes with Crosshair.

He's attempting to prep some vegetables, and narrowly misses his finger whilst chopping them, his gaze fixated elsewhere. Only, once your eyes meet his, Crosshair looks back to his task, acting as if he wasn't just staring at you.

So, you turn away, only to look back at him when his voice fills the air.

"It's nice to have some competence around here," Crosshair comments. You let out a soft "hm?" so Crosshair continues. "Most of the other servers leave their plates a mess, barely scraped, stacked in the wrong order. It's nice to have a server who knows how to do their job."

"It's not like it's hard," you say with a shrug.

"Exactly," Crosshair looks back up at you, and you notice the upwards turn to his lips.

You return to your task after matching his smile, and you're both content with the silence in the air.

Once finished, it's time for your break. Whilst you would usually ring your staff food through without a second thought, you decide to ask Crosshairs permission first.

"Hey, I know you're doing prep, but do you mind if I ring my food through? I can wait if-"

"-What would you like, Sweetheart?" Crosshair asks, wiping his hands clean as he makes his way over to the grill.

"Uhm… a burger?" your mind falls blank, mostly because you're not used to having a chef seem this happy with cooking.

"Is that it?" Crosshair raises his brow. "Come on, you can come up with something more creative than that. Tell me what toppings you like."

Before you know it, you're going into depth about exactly how you like your burgers. All the while, Crosshair is nodding in agreement, and even chimes in with comments here and there. You soon ring your order up, and whilst waiting for it to cook, you return to cleaning your tables, all whilst your heart is pounding with butterflies in your chest.

Back in the kitchen, Crosshair catches himself smiling as he cooks your meal. He doesn't even realise how sappy he's being until he squirts the burger sauce onto the bun in the shape of a heart, soon to be hidden by a patty cooked to your liking.

"What's got you all cheery?" Hunter questions as he peers in the kitchen, bewildered at Crosshairs content expression.

Crosshair slips his emotional mask back on as he meets his brother's eyes, "just excited for my cigarette break."

One month into your new job, and you're more than happy here. The customers are nice, your coworkers are great, and the food is to die for!

Sure, you're in the honeymoon phase, but you'll enjoy it whilst it lasts.

Crosshair is slowly opening up to you, but he's been the toughest egg to crack. Whilst everybody else has no issue with jumping straight into conversation, Crosshair tends to keep his mouth shut, minus the odd hum and one-word reply here and there.

Only, you've seen him speak to others. Well, not speak… scream! Crosshair has no issue with shouting at his cooks over the smallest of things. He's even barked at the other servers, too. You know that he's overall disliked within the workplace, but sometimes, you can understand Crosshairs point of view.

He's right. It's not hard to do your job right, keep your area tidy, and be efficient. Maker knows how your co-workers manage to screw the smallest of things up, and sure, you've made mistakes here and there, and always bent over backwards to fix them.

But despite Crosshair's tough demeanour, deep down, he's a real sap. Or at least, he is towards you.

You've noticed that you can get away with certain things, such as nibbling on a few leftover chips whilst waiting for orders to be plated up, or using different abbreviations when ringing up orders.

You didn't even realise that wasn't the norm, until a fellow coworker commented, "Crosshair lets you eat the leftover fries? He swatted my hand away when I tried to do that, just like everybody else."

Maybe it's because you bring Crosshair a cup of coffee to his liking at the start of every shift? Or because you always let out comments here and there about how good the food is presented?

Maybe it's just because Crosshair has a thing for you, as much as he denies it. You are his favourite server, but Maker forbid that anybody knows, despite it being painfully obvious.

Obvious to everyone, but you.

You finally catch on during one stressful shift. A customer, as cursed as they are, broke you down to tears. You remained stiff lipped whilst taking a beating, but the second you entered the back of house, tears started rolling down your cheeks.

Hunter takes the burden of the customer off your shoulders, and orders you to go and take a moment to yourself out back.

The fire exit door swings open, and you storm out, holding back a choked sob as you take a seat on one of the many empty crates resting against the building.

Your head falls into your hands, elbows resting on your knees, and finally alone, you begin to cry.

Only, you're not alone. Crosshair is on the other side of the door, back resting against the wall with a forgotten cigarette pressed between his fingers. He can hear you crying, and after swallowing his feelings, and allowing them to settle in his uneasy stomach, he discards his cigarette and decides to approach you.

"Customers, huh?" Crosshair questions as he takes a seat beside you, not bothering to ask if you need a friend. He knows damn well that you do.

A series of incoherent words fall from your lips, but Crosshair can piece them together. You're venting about what just happened, mumbling and babbling away, blowing off steam with your favourite chef by your side.

In the midst of offloading your anger, Crosshair decides to weave his arm around your shoulders, and gently pull you into his grasp.

He doesn't even realise what he's done until your head comes to rest on his shoulder, lashes fluttering against his sensitive Adams apple, still venting away whilst a hand caresses your shoulder and back.

"And you wonder why I work in the kitchen," Crosshair comments, earning a laugh from you.

"Maybe I should switch, and start working in the kitchen with you," you say with a light chuckle.

Despite his stomach turning at the idea, Crosshair puts on a smile as he replies, "that wouldn't be so bad. I'm sure I could put up with you."

"Put up with me?" you repeat with a gasp, straightening your back to meet his eyes. All Crosshair does is give you a shrug, with a cheeky grin on his lips. "Phfft, I'd be the one putting up with you. I've seen how you bark at your chefs," you continue.

"I don't bark," Crosshair says with a playful glare. "I bite."

You can't help but let out a laugh, soon returning your head to his shoulder. "You wouldn't bite me," you boast.

Crosshair allows his cheek to rest against the top of your head. "I might do," he says eagerly, "but only if you waste stock."

"Oh, I'd definitely burn a burger or two," you admit, knowing damn-well that you're a riot in the kitchen.

In the midst of your nattering, Hunter makes his way through the back of house to find you, knowing that you're taking a breather outside.

Only he stops once he overhears your voice, and a certain chef talking to you.

Smiling to himself, Hunter decides that you don't need him - you have somebody else to take care of you, somebody who has been eager to talk to you, but is far more timid than he lets on.

Hunter's little plan is going smoothly, now that Crosshair is finally speaking to you, rather than keeping to himself in the kitchen.

After all, Crosshair is the main reason why you were hired. It's his own fault, drunkenly admitting that he thought a certain regular customer was attractive, and definitely his type.

Fate took its course, and Hunter found your CV in his pile only a few days later.

You were beyond perfect for the job, and maybe, just maybe, you'll be even better for a certain chef.

#tbbwriting #tbb #the bad batch #chef!crosshair #crosshair #line cook!crosshair #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair #bad batch #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfic #headcanon #sfw

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 6 months

Note

WE NEED A SEQUEL TO BEAUTY IN THE BODEGA NEOOOWWW

Beauty in the Bodega: part 2 (Fluff)

MM!Leonardo x reader

Part 1

---------------

A/N: And a sequel you get!💙😘

I know this kind of messes up the idea that April is the first human to know about them, but I just really wanted to do this. Also, I know most food displays don't have alarms, but for the sake of the story we just roll with it.

----------------

Warnings: None💙

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Once every week, Leo and his brothers would go on grocery runs, and every week they would change it up a bit. They knew from experience that hitting up the same place too many times in a row, would cause them to up the security. Therefore they would go from bodega to bodega, the further apart the better. That had brought them all over New York City, to places they normally never would get to see. But with every grocery run they went on, Leo couldn’t help but look towards the door, and hoped that you, the beautiful human girl, would walk through it one more time, in a totally different part of the city.

It had been two months since Leo saw you in the grocery store. Two whole months since you had left the party size Doritos bag outside of the sewer for Leo to find. And during those two months, Leonardo continuously thought of you. Lucky for him, no one in his family found it suspicious how fast he had gotten those Doritos. He told them it would be a minute, what else would there be to say?

During the nights in those two months, Leo would lay in bed and stare at the pipes above him, listening to his brother’s snoring, and wonder about you. Who were you? What was your name? How old were you? Did you think about him? And most importantly, if you did think about him, did you think about him just as much as he thought of you?

It was during those nights that Leo would borrow Donnie’s headphones, and look up the song he had heard you sing. It was happy and upbeat, giving Leo some much needed joy in his thoughts about you. And it quickly became the backdrop to his thoughts about you, turning every thought sweet and bright. It even played in the back of his head as he and his brothers returned to the exact bodega he had seen you in.

This time was easier than the last time. The cashier had fallen asleep behind their crossword, giving the boys all the time they needed to collect their things. All they were missing was the junk food and those Doritos their dad had fallen in love with.

As Raph and Donnie was packing everything in the vent into bags, and Leo was looking for the Doritos, Mikey slowly snuck behind the counter to find the good junk food. The good hotdogs they would warm for you, and the good cakes with a lot of filling. But when Leo got the shelf he usually would find the Doritos, he was confused when he saw none, only to realize they were at a different shelf.

Oh no. They had moved around. That meant…

Mikey opened the glass to the hotdogs, only to be surprised by a blaring alarm that rang in their ears. The cashier woke up, causing Mikey to hide the only place he could find - right under the counter. Leo once again hid behind the shelf, heart beating in fear as the cashier grumbled and shouted.

“Where are you?!”, the cashier yelled. "Thieves! Where did you go!?”

Suddenly the bell above the door rang, altering people to a new person in the bodega. Leo squished his eyes shut. Every fear his father ever had instilt him came forward, making him think of the worst.

“They ran that way!” Leo’s snapped open. He knew that voice. He could recognize that voice anywhere. He had been dreaming about it for two months. “Just down the street! I saw them!”

Leo looked through the shelves to see you standing at the counter, pointing out to the street.

“Are you sure!?”, the cashier asked. “What did they look like?!”

“I don’t know! They were those dumb hoods with holes!”, you yelled, creating a sense of urgency. “Hurry! Before they get too far!”, you yelled, pulling the cashier out from behind the counter, before pulling them with you and out the door.

With the coast clear, Leo ran to get Mikey from his hiding spot under the counter, before helping him up into the vent. They hurried to the roof, where they watched you pull the cashier into the opposite direction than the one they would go.

—

“I was scared they would catch us!”, Donnie said as they returned to the alleyway. “I mean, did you see them?! They were about to go ballistic!”

“I was so sure we would get milked!”, Mikey said, running his hand over his face.

“Will you shut up with the milking?”, Raph asked as he opened up the sewer entrance. “You’re gonna make me hurl!”

“Okay, but let’s make one thing clear”, Leo said, using his big brother voice. “We can’t tell dad about what happened tonight”.

“Then how do we explain why we didn’t get all he asked for?”, Mikey asked, nodding towards the bag in his hand.

“We will just tell him that Leo’s girlfriend came by, so we decided to get the hell out of there”, Raph said, pulling the manhole open. “He will understand that”.

“She’s not my girlfriend”, Leo mumbled, kicking his feet against the pavement. At least not in real life. In his head you and him got together long ago, and had been going strong for the past two months.

“Sure, lover boy”, Donnie chuckled, as he climbed down into the sewer. “Don’t act like you don’t talk in your sleep”.

“I do not!”, Leo panicked, feeling his voice crack.

“Whatever you say”, Raph smiled, climbing down after Mikey.

Leo sighed and followed his brothers down, handing his bags to them before closing up the manhole. He was about to climb down, when he heard it.

“Dorito boy? Is it you down there?”

Leo froze. It was you. With that voice, there was no about about it. Slowly Leo looked down to his brothers, checking to see if they had heard you. They hadn’t. They were laughing at something Mikey had said, totally unaware of the fact that Leo hadn’t moved from the top of the ladder.

“Guys”, Leo called out, catching his brother's attention. “You guys go ahead. I’ll be there in a minute”.

“If it’s for those Doritos, I think dad can live one week without them”, Donnie said, crossing his arms.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, Mikey said. “Remember the last time one of us ate them? He watched soap operas for a whole week straight!”

Leo sighed once more. Why did his brothers had to be like this? “Just go ahead, please!”

“Okay! Okay!”, Raph said, hands in the air. “We’re leaving! We’re leaving - Damn. Someone’s angsty today!”

Leo waited until he was sure his brothers had left, before slowly opening the manhole cover once more. Trembling, he was met by your feet standing right in front of him. He gulped before looking up, finding you staring directly down at him with a smile.

“Hey”, you said with a warm smile.

“Hey”, he said back. He couldn’t believe it! He was talking to a human! And not just any human, but you! He was surely dreaming. There was no way-.

“Are you going to stay down there all night?”

“Uhm… no, sorry”. Leo fumbled over his words as he climbed out of the manhole. Standing in front of you, he felt his heart flutter a bit. He was taller than you. Not by a lot. Maybe a few centimeters. But it was enough to make his face hot. He had no idea what to do. He was standing in front of a human! A beautiful human of all! This was nothing like his dreams and thoughts had told him it would be like. In those he had been brave, telling you everything he felt.

“You’re really bad at remembering stuff, did you know that?”

Your words caught Leo off guard. He wasn’t sure what you meant, until he saw what you had in your hands. A bag full of party size Doritos and a bag full of warm hotdogs. Leo stared at them, unable to form words.

“They have upped the security quite a bit since last time. They found the bag you dropped and figured you would come back for more. That’s the reason why they moved them”, you explained. “You guys should probably wait more than two months before going back there”.

Leo was careful when he took the bags from your hands, fearing you would disappear the moment you took them. Instead he accidentally grazed his hands against yours, causing him involuntary to tense up. You chuckled, making his shoulders soften a bit.

“Th- thank you”, he managed to stammer out, mentally cursing himself for his voice crack. “It- it’s really nice of you. Can I pay back in some way?”

You shook your head, your eyes twinkling with amusement. "No no, it’s okay. I figured you and your friends needed it”, you smiled, your eyes lingering on his for a moment. “By the way, I'm (Y/N)".

Leo’s hands shook, the bag rustling as they did so. He quickly hid them behind his back, noticing the amused expression on your face. He relaxed his shoulders once again, before managing enough courage to extend you a hand.

"Leo," he replied, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "It's nice to meet you, (Y/N)".

122 notes · View notes

haileybeehappy · 10 months

Text

Handy Hardware

Summary : Working at your dads hardware store is a pretty boring job all around. Though you have your regulars who spice up your day to day. Especially your biggest customer, and small business owner Joel Miller.

Word count : 5.2k

Warnings : Older Joel. Rough sex. Unprotected p in v. Hair pulling. Fingering. Throat fucking. Degradation. Praise kink. Daddy issues. Teasing. Lots of teasing.

You’re pretty sure your shoes will leave an engraved mark from how long you stand behind the counter everyday. Fingers dancing with a pen as it unskillfully flips through your fingers, dropping onto the counter with a clang occasionally. You let out a sigh, there’s a clamber, followed by, “I’m okay,” and some more rustling. Your father in the back, ‘doing inventory.’

The pen in your hand fumbles to the ground on the opposite side of the counter and you huff out a breath and move to grab it. As you’re bent over you hear the buzzing of the electronic bell surge through the store. Your body snaps into a standing position and you turn quickly, realizing that the person entering the store probably got a good eyeful of your floral underwear peaking out from your dress.

“Welcome to Handy Hardware,” you squeak out before coming face to face with a very regular customer. “Oh hey Joel,” you smile widely at the man.

“Hey kid,” he smirks and makes him way down aisle three. A red blush rushes up your neck and spreads across your cheeks. Stepping back behind the counter you continue twisting the pen in your fingers. Joel pops in and out of the tall shelved aisles, boxes of screws and other odds and ends piling in his hands. Your eyes finding him wherever he is in the store through the small monitor on your right. He makes his final selections and makes his way in front of you dropping the multiple boxes onto the countertop.

“Will this be all Joel?” He shakes his head.

“I’m picking up a pallet from the back, some flooring your dad ordered for me,” he fishes a receipt from his pocket. Uncrumpling it and dropping it on top of his other purchases.

“Sounds like a plan,” You begin ringing up the small boxes of drywall screws and the array of nails. Your father pops out from the back room.

“I thought I heard my favorite customer!” His voice filling the space quickly. Joel smiles widely at him, reaching out and shaking his hand.

“Always good to see you,” he speaks your fathers name and looks back to you.

“Kid here is just ringing me up and I was gonna swing around and get that flooring,” you father nods. You roll your eyes at the nickname, earning a nudge from your father before he moves on to speak.

“It’s all ready for you on the lift, we can pop it into your truck, you drop Joel’s things into a large paper bag and hand it to him across the counter. The receipt slowly ticketing out of the machine, ripping it off you hand it to Joel. His hands much larger than your own bumping yours.

“Thanks kid,” Joel’s dark eyes squinted in a smile.

“Anytime Old man,” You smile even wider than him. Your dad lets out a gasp like noise. Then scolds you with your full name.

“No, no it’s alright,” Joel speaks to your dad. “It’s our little joke,” he shoots you a wink. They fall into simple conversation and make their way out the door, swinging back to the garage. Joel shoots you a wave before he’s out of view.

…

You’re alone in the store, your father in the much bigger town two hours over picking up a large load of supplies to restock the dwindling shelves. You’re organizing the shelves, making sure everything is neat and easy to find. The bell half chimes before dying out, what it’s been doing all morning.

“Welcome to Handy Hardware, give me a holler if you need anything,” you tell from your seated position on the floor. Joel’s voice echos through the aisles, your name falling gruffly from his lips.

“You guys got anymore of those specialty runs for me?” You stand and brush the imaginary dust off your jeans.

“We may have a few cases in the warehouse I’ll check the computer,” you round the corner and come chest to chest with him. “Ouf,” is the noise that’s pushed out of your lungs as you collide. His hands wrapping, pretty much completely, around your biceps to stabilize you.

“Woah there kiddo,” he chuckles, he’s standing close enough that you can feel his breath fan across your face. He smells like coffee, leather, and wood shavings. His grip releases from you and he steps back. “You okay?” You nod with a tight lipped smile. Quickly maneuvering around him, your feet carry you quickly to the counter. Turning your back to Joel, and the door you begin typing into the ancient box. The green letters ticking across the black background. You can hear Joel humming as he browses through the aisles. A clatter of a shaken box of screws or the clank of tools falling against each other, the accompanying noises of his song. The computer buzzes as it searches for the numbers in the system. The room around you buzzed with silence, you turn to look at the monitor and jump as you come face to face with Joel. His hips resting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankles and arms crossed over one another.

“It’s searching,” you say quietly under his stare. He nods, his eyes not moving from your frame. No emotion shown as his face, you slowly turn back around and watch the three green dots pulse on the screen. His shuffling feet urge you to look and see what he’s doing but before you gain the courage his arms fall on either side of you. His front pressed to you back as he looks at the dusty screen over your shoulder.

“I think you guys need a system update, could have made it to the warehouse and back by now,” his hushed tone sending shivers down your spine. You don’t move to look at him, eyes finding the reflection of his face in the pixels of the screen.

“Dad likes this one,” you shrug. Your shoulder bumping his chin. He leans into the touch and finds himself at home, chin resting in the crook of your neck. “As old as it is,” you lift one hand and smack the side of the monitor slightly. The green letters on the screen disappear, earning a chuckle from Joel before it springs back to life. The numbers on the screen, followed by a long green line and in a small box a three lays blinking at you.

“Three boxes, you’re in luck,” you smile. Your breath caught in your throat as he sits unmoving.

“Your dad still over in town?” You nod lightly. His hair ticking the side of your face. He nuzzles deeper into your neck. Breathing in deeply. “Mm,” he sighs. “Gonna walk me back to the warehouse?” His hands lifting from the desk, his finger sliding through your jeans belt loop and spinning you around to face him. You let out s childlike squeal, hands coming up to grip the lapels of his flannel.

“I can’t leave the store unattended,” your voice comes out breathy.

“Doors have locks for a reason,” His hands spread over the expanse of your hips. “Just have to run back for a minute. Shouldn’t take too long. You nod slowly.

“I’m due for my lunch break anyways,” he smiles softly. One hand coming up to your chin. Guiding your face to look at him.

“There’s my good girl,” you close your eyes and pull your face from his grasp. Stepping out of his grip and swiping the keys from the counter. Taking in a deep breath to soothe your heart, that you’re sure is beating out of your chest.

“Come on old man,” trying to cover the tension with a joke fails. As you go to pull the door open his hand comes over yours and closes it.

“Kid,” you can hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t make me show you what this old man can do,” you turn to look at him.

“Hopefully it’s carrying three huge boxes of specialty trim for some rich guys house. Lord knows I’m not carrying them,” yanking the door open his arm drops. He lets out a chuckle as you prance away, making sure to swing your hips with a little more sass than usual.

“Brat,” he huffs under his breath, smile still rested on his lips. You toss the keys at his as he pulls the door shut behind him. He catches them easily and locks up as you continue to walk around the building to the back warehouse. More so a garage with lots of shelving and a big work bench. You walk backwards as he stalks behind you. Footsteps heavy, eyes tracking your every move. Your back hits the large barn like door with a thud, the medal siding sending an echo through the large space behind you. Like a tape measure being pulled back into its casing. His steps capturing you in, just like at the counter before. His chest a short arm length from yours. His hand comes up between your faces in a fist, fingers opening revealing the keys dangling from his fingers. You hand lifts from your side, electricity vibrating through your fingers as you make a split second decision. Your hand, starting just above his waist band, glides up his abdomen. Palm flattened against his t shirt, slowly up his chest twisting and grasping the keys you turn to the lock. Pressing your back against his front, he lets out a low hum of a groan. Once the old lock is set free, you pull at the door, it doesn’t budge. You pull again, nothing. He pushes harder into your back and his hands rest on your shoulder. Gently drifting down your arms till his hands rear over yours. Finger’s encapsulating yours and he pulls roughly on the door, causing the metal handle to dig into your skin harshly. You let out a hiss at the feeling, the door pops open and his hand keeps a hold on yours as he pulls the both of you through. As you enter the large garage the motion sensor lights flick on, Joel closes the door behind you. His hand turns yours over I’m his palm, one faint red line. Already fading away, lifting your hand to his lips he places a soft kiss on your skin. You hum appreciatively, his hand guides yours after the kiss. Palm resting on the scruff of his cheek. Thumb moving gently over the sparse spot on his jaw. His opposite hand, wrapping around your hips and pulling you to him. Your front pressed snugly against his, hand still resting on his face.

“M’sorry, wasn’t thinking,” he hums. You just shake your head.

“Doesn’t even hurt,” your voice no more than a whisper. Your bodies entangled for so long, and so still, that the lights shut off. A small squeak reaches out from your throat. He chuckles and releases your waist with a wave. Hand in the air waving back and forth in the air above the two of you. Once the lights snap on you chuckle at the absurdity of Joel waving his arm around like a mad man. Your hand now dropped to his shoulder and both his hands drop down to find your waist.

“Let’s find those boxes, yeah?” You nod at his question. Clasping your hand in his he pulls you all around the garage to scan every shelf. A smile bursting on your face as you watch your intertwined hands. Joel had always been flirty when your father wasn’t around but this was a whole new man. It used to be stolen touches as you would reach across the counter to hand him his bag, or he’d tease you and call you kid. Tell you to ‘watch it, or see what happens,” so this Joel. Who kisses your hands, wraps his arms around you, holds you close. Is very different man, not that you’re complaining. You come to a stop and bump into Joel’s back as his feet cease movement.

He turns to you.

“You just can’t watch what you’re doin huh? Walkin into me all the time,” he jokes, a smirk rested on his lips.

“Sorry Joel,” you say meekly. He just shakes his head, smirk still rested on his lips.

“No old man huh?” You just shake your head. He then points to a few large, long boxes. Three shelves above your head. You let out a strangled sigh.

“I can’t use the lift, dad won’t let me. Says it’s dangerous,” the last work having a mocking undertone.

“I use it all the time,” Joel shrugs. Walking to the large garage door where he small forklift sleeps. Dad named her Betsy, the name is scrawled along the side of the old rusted machine. Joel pops himself in the seat and motions you to come over. “Come on beautiful, I don’t bite,” eying him cautiously you approach the side he reaches his hand out and you accept cautiously. You pulls you up onto the machine and into his lap. The small open ‘cabin’ of the vehicle barely big enough to hold both of your bodies. Your head brushing against the roof, his slides the key ring from your belt loop and inserts it into the ignition. His hands guide yours over the steering wheel, his over yours as he uses you like a puppet. Turning switches and pulling knobs, getting the ancient machine to work.

“Nice and easy,” he says under his breath as he releases the break and slowly applies gas. You let out little giggles as you maneuver the compact lift out of its spot. He then, hands still over yours. Speeds across the largest section of empty floor, a surprised squeal, turned belly laugh escapes you.

“Joel!” You yelp as he turns quickly around a corner causing the machine to whine, metal creaking and scraping. He low chuckle vibrates through his chest, one hand lifting off yours on the steering wheel and wrapping around your waist. Pulling you snug onto his lap, onto a very dense bulge. Your center sitting on top of a very hard Joel. You try to ignore the feeling burning a hole through your stomach. His hands leave yours on their own, wrapping one arm completely around your waist and the other finding rest on your thigh. You have full control of the steering around the garage while his foot stays even pressured on the gas. Small giggles erupting from you as you take the sharp turns. As you move to readjust yourself on his lap the seam of his zipper runs along your clothed cunt. You let out a small whine, rewarded with a flex of his hips. A grunt from the man your sat atop causing you to freeze.

“You’re killin me baby,” he groans again. Pulling you back down onto him. His hard cock pushing against the teeth of his zipper as he grinds up into you. “Gotta stop movin,” hold on your hips tight as he slows to a stop in front of the shelf you need to grab the boxes from.

“Sorry,” you whine. His hands find their way back on top of yours. Helping you to adjust the prongs to lift the boxes from the shelf. A smile fighting its way onto your face as his warm, calloused hands cover yours. Hand moving back and forth between the shift and buttons. Finally the boxes are on the floor and Joel finds the key in the ignition and pulls the power from the vehicle.

“Did such a good job for me baby,” he purrs in your ear. Nose ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Such a good girl for me,” you whine at the praise. “You like that huh?” You nod. “Like being my good girl,” you drop your head on his shoulders. His hands gently rubbing at your hips, slipping under your shirt. Fingers massaging gently into your skin. You feel sparks fleck across your skin at his touch. The feeling shooting to your core, your hips begin to move on their own accord. Gyrating against the hardening bulge under you.

“Wanna feel good huh baby,” his hands gripping your hips hard and guiding you up and down his covered self. “I wanna help you feel good yeah?” You nod. “Need your words baby,”

“Please touch me Joel, I’ll be good, please,” words tumbling out of your mouth at lightning speed. His chuckle causing your core to clench around nothing. You whine, his hands unmoving. “Please,” you pout, stomping your foot lightly with impatience. Hand squeezing tightly on your hip.

“Don’t get bratty on my now baby, I’m getting there,” you groan. Grinding down on him harder, moaning out. “Okay baby, okay,” his hand reaches up into your shirt and palms lightly at your breast. “I gotcha,” other hand drifting to find the button of your jeans. You nod fervently.

“Please touch me,” your head still resting on his shoulder. He pops open the button and his hand dives down your pants. Fingers tracing over the fabric of your underwear, tracing the seams that don’t quite cover the flowering lips of your labia.

“Already wet for me huh?” His longest middle finger dipping over your entrance. “Such a good little slut, ready for me already. Haven’t even touched you yet,” the animalistic growl in his voice unlike any noise you’ve heard him make before.

“Yes Joel, just for you, all for you,” applying a bit more pressure against your hole, the barrier of your lacy underwear.

“Fuckin better be,” he then skims past your underwear and runs his calloused finger along your seam. Not quite hard enough to enter you. Your hips move to accept his touch, causing his finger to graze your clit.

“Only for you, only yours,” his finger sliding ever so slightly inside of you before pulling out.

“This is all mine,” a growl catches in his throat. Dipping a finger further into you before pulling out and using it to run lightly over your clit.

“Joel,” you whine lifting your hips again. His hand rips from under your shirt, laying a slap on the inside of your thigh.

“Don’t make me take you over my knee kid,” you gasp at the tingling sensation left in his handprints wake. “Be a good girl,” his hand continues to move in your underwear. Tracing the same path back and forth. Dipping further into your core each time. Your hips jerking slightly at the movements. His erection digging into your ass painfully.

“I’m being so good,” you cried. Wanting more. “Joel please I need you, just wanna feel full,” your hair tousled over your face. You can feel him nod against the side of your head. His forehead pressed to the temple of yours.

“Wanna feel full baby?” Lips drifting across your cheek, barely there. “Want Daddy to stuff your greedy little cunt with his big cock huh?” You nod desperately.

“Please, please, wanna feel you so bad,” the second the first syllable leaves your mouth two fingers find your drenched hole and push in knuckle deep. The moan leaving your lips loud, loud enough to drown out the sound of the buzzing lights and humming generator. “Oh fuck Daddy,” a predatory growl following your moans.

“Again,” his fingers curling up into you, searching for the spongy spot he knows will make you cry out.

“Daddy, f, fuck,” you stutter out. “Feel so full,” he’s rutting up into the crease of your ass and thigh now. His breath uneven. His fingers finally find the soft ribbed walls, and begins circling it slowly. Digging into the spongy wetness, the mewls and whines escaping your lips growing louder and louder with each stroke. Digging his second hand into your jeans, pushing them down slightly. His fingers clumsily find your clit, your head thrown back at the pressure.

“Daddy, daddy,” the word flowing out of your mouth over and over.

“Come on baby, come for me princess,” your vision blurs as a wave crashes over you. Legs twitching and closing around his hands. Your fingers healing at his forearms till your knuckles are white. Jumbles of words and curses fall from your lips, incoherent at best. Body buzzing as you come down from your high. His fingers still sheathed inside you, sliding in and out against your walls. Prolonging your intense orgasm. Using his arms as leverage you lift yourself from his touch.

“Too much,” you whine. You can feel his smile against your skin as you continue to try to pull away.

“You did such a good job for me baby,” the need in his voice not unnoticed by you.

“Thank you Daddy,” you hum. “Wanted you for so long,” you lean back into his touch. His hands escape the confines of your jeans, you watch as he lifts his fingers to his mouth. Slowly licking them clean. His eyes on you, as you watch him clean your taste from his fingers. Your mouth waters at the thought. As his now, relatively, clean fingers are unlatched from his lips your eyes look to his. “You taste better than I ever could have imagined honey,” you smile at the pet name. “Wanna taste baby?” You nod, slightly unsure. Never having tasted yourself before. His hand then quickly wraps itself around the back of your head. He pulls your face to his, lips smashing against yours with a moan. His tongue invading your mouth instantly, you taste yourself on his tongue. Salty and a little sweet, slowly untangling your limbs. Still connected at the mouth you turn yourself in his lap so you’re straddling him. Your hands tangling in his curls while he moves to unclasp your bra. Fingers fumbling as you begin to grind your core onto his pulsing dick. He snaps the bra against your back. Arching from the sting you drop your weight onto him, he lets out a groan. Hands drop to his shoulders you go to lift yourself from his lap. He shakes his head and pulls you back down onto him with the base of your bra.

“Goddamn it,” he groans. Burring his nose into the base of your neck. Lips finding exposed skin and placing peppered kisses across the expanse of your neck. “Can’t wait to feel you,” he mumbles against your skin. You drop your head back, his fingers find their way back to the clasp and undoes the hooks one by one. Once the garment is released from your body. You lean back from him and pull the bra, and your shirt off your torso. Once your vision is cleared of the dark shirt you look to his face. Joel’s eyes are devouring your chest hungrily. Hand coming up to your right breast, slowly grasping at your skin. Hands dwarfing your breast in his hold. Thumb coming up to brush against your peaked nub, a breathy moan escaping you as he makes contact.

“Fuck you’re so beautiful,” his right hand pushing you closer to him, capturing your nipple in his mouth.

“Oh, Daddy please,” you whimper. His hair reaching up to pull at your roots as he sucks and nibbles at your sensitive skin. He releases you with a pop before moving to the neglected breast. Your hands digging into his shoulders. Flannel protecting him against your nails. “Daddy, I wanna feel you,” you continue grinding your core on his cock. He releases you quickly but only one enough to speak out to you.

“You can do better than that for me baby. Come on. Beg for Daddy’s cock,” the whine leaving your lips childlike as the words escape him.

“Ugh!” You groan. Dropping your forehead to rest against his. “Daddy please, wantchotofillmesogood,” the words blending together into a mesh of syllables. “Wanna feel your,” you let out a gasped moan as he lays a seat on your ass. “Wanna fee your big cock stretch me out Daddy please,” he chuckles deeply.

“Okay baby, I’ll stuff that needy little cunt.” A sigh of relief escapes you.

“Thank you Daddy,” you lift your hands from his shoulders and bring a kiss to his lips. Hands rubbing against the scruff of his jaw. Tongue delving into his mouth. He grabs your hips and begins sliding you off his lap. Your feet find the floor once again, stepping off the machinery and onto the concrete ground. You pull back from him and he clambers out behind you. Pulling you to kiss him by the back of your neck, your hands resting at the waistband of his pants. Fidgeting with his belt buckle. Occasionally dropping down to palm his bulge. His hips gently thrusting at the sensation. Hands tangled in your hair, bruising kisses mushing against one another’s faces. Your hand dips into his belt and untangle him from the confines. Quickly dropping to your knees out of his grasp, fly open, belt flapping. You look at him with hooded eyes. His own tracing over your form. Mouth agape, breath heavy, he looks straight out of a porno. You smile at him before yanking on his pants. Pulling them down his thighs, his hands come over yours.

“Slow down baby, I’m not goin anywhere,”

“Yes Sir,” you submit. Slowly pulling him out of his boxers. You can’t completely wrap your hand around his cock. Shakey breaths fall onto you lean forward to kiss him. Lips connecting with the head of his dick releases a groan deep within his chest. Hands gripping your hair tightly, tingles shooting down your spine you hum with appreciation. Mouth taking the head of his dick, lips wrapping around him and tongue rubbing back and forth in him.

“Fuck, you feel good baby,” fingers wrapping around his base and squeezing lightly. “Holy shhhh.” His words fading out to a hiss. Bobbing down slowly. Taking him bit by bit, teasing him the same way he teased you. An irritated gurgle leaves his throat gripping the sides of your head and pushing his cock deeper into your mouth. He lets out a satisfied sigh in the same stretch you moan around him. Pinching your eyes tightly, hand coming to rest on his thighs. His cock glides in and out of your mouth slowly, testing the waters on how far you could take him back. The grunts and muttered praises falling from his lips encouraging you to take more. You push down to him and take him as far back as you can. The tip of his cock fitting snugly inside your throat.

“Holy fucking shit, baby you’re perfect,” slow thrusts pulling in and out of your throat until you gag and he pulls back. You shake your head and chase his cock. “No baby, it’s okay, wanna feel that pussy now, yeah?” You nod with an excited smile. “Comere,” he pulls you up into a quick kiss before spinning you around and bending you over the seat of the forklift. A surprised moose leaving your throat. He quickly tips your pants down, settling them at your knees. As he finds his spot behind you you speak to him mockingly.

“Slow down baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he responds with a smack on your ass. You flinch back before pushing back into him. “Harder, please,” he chuckles laying another spank on you.

“Naughty girl,” you share your head.

“I’ve been good,”

“Have you?” You nod your head vigorously. He tuts his tongue. “I don’t think showing of your pretty flower panties to customers is being good,” your body stills and you gasp. “Yeah I saw your little show baby,” he’s spreads your cheeks apart. Tip brushing against you clit clumsily. “Was that just for me or do you show your pink little panties to all the boys huh,” your mouth hangs agape as you shake your head.

“It just,” you whine as he barely dips his head into your entrance. Pulling back and running back over your clit. “It just happened, just you, just the once, I promise,” your voice breaking through raged breaths. His tip teasing you back and forth.

“Just for me?”

“Yes Daddy, just for you,”

“Mmm, good,” he hums. Snapping his hips to yours in one swift motion. Stuffing you completely, your pussy squelching at the intrusion. You yelp out at the sudden fullness.

“Oh fuck, so fuckin tight,” his hands digging into the small of your back. Supporting his weight on you as he pulls out slowly and pushes back in even slower. “Pussy was made for me huh?” Hands pinching at your skin.

“Yes Daddy, made for your cock,” head twisting back to see him. Hair dangling over his forehead.

“Good fuckin girl,” looking up to make eye contact with you. “So tight,” he thrusts “so wet,” again, “so warm,” harder. You whine out at the praises.

“Thank you Daddy,” his hand finds you hair. The other resting on your ass. “Thank you,” you whine. “For making me feel good,” he pulls harder at your roots. “For letting me taste you,” you get lost in a bought of whimpers as the head of his cock rubs against your g-spot.

“Come on baby, can feel you squeezing me,” his grip on your hips tightening. “Come with me, come around my cock,” his thrust becoming quicker and sloppy. You sigh in relief and release around him. Elbows dropping down to the seat, his hands finding your waist and holding you through your orgasm. His hips stilling not long after your legs begin to tremble. Mutters of curses leaving his lips as he pulses inside you. Bring yourself to rest on the seat, your face pressed against the cool cracked leather. His chest presses against your back, placing chaste kisses along your shoulders.

“Did so good,” his voice grumbly, tired. You sigh appreciatively.

“Thank you Daddy,”

“It’s okay baby,” his hands running down your thigh. “Just call me Joel,” you nod.

“Okay Joel,” the two of you take a few moments to bask in your afterglow, him proceeding to place kisses along any skin he can reach. Then proceeding to untangle from one another and redress. You can’t seem to find your small lace panties and he has a mysterious bulge in his pocket and a smirk on his face. You just pull him to a kiss. He parks the forklift back it’s its spot and finds a hand trolley to push the boxes to his truck. You watch as he lifts the triangular boxes into his truck. Muscles flexing, visible even when trapped in his flannel.

“Thank you for all your help kid,” He smirks at you. You respond with an eye roll, he looks up at the front of the store. Eyes scanning and trim. He pulls toy to him, chin pinched in his fingers. “Thought I fucked the attitude out of you, you need to go again already?” You pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” you smirk up at him. He lets out a sigh and fishes his hand into his pocket. Pulling out a small paper and slipping it into your hands.

“Text me, I’ll send you my address,” you nod shyly. “See you soon princess,” he places a firm kiss to your lips. Pulling back with a wide smile.

“See you soon Daddy,” he shoots you a joking glare and hips into the cab of his truck. He throws you a wave, you stand watching his truck drive till he turns out of sight. You groan and turn back to unlock the door and open up the shop again. Dull ache on your cervix as you walk. Sending a small smile to your lips.

#Joel miller #Joel miller smut #Joel miller dom #Joel miller fluff #Joel miller fanfic #Joel miller fanfiction #Joel miller imagine #Joel miller the last of us #the last of us #the last of us hbu

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muddyorbsblr · 2 years

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talking in your sleep pt 2

Summary: You wake up 14 hours after your Melatonin-aided much needed sleep and face the aftermath of your confession to Loki. A confession you believed was a dream.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (friends to lovers)

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: implied smut, Loki being hot (not sure if this needs to be a warning but it's there), mild angst (?) [let me know if i missed anything!]

The first thing you noticed when you woke up was that it was dark outside. You'd slept the day away. Maybe even more. But you felt rested, fully energized, ready to go back to your office and face the behemoth that was the security system of the Ten Rings.

Just as you were about to stand up and head back to said office, you vaguely remembered Tony's words about not wanting to see you in your office for the next seven days. That was when you noticed the next thing. This wasn't your home. You didn't even remember leaving the tower. But you did remember bits and pieces of a conversation between Loki and Natasha arguing about whose room you would sleep in.

"FRIDAY?" you called out into the dark empty space.

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" the AI answered.

"Could you tell me what day it is, how long I've been asleep, and then turn the lights on at 50%?"

"Certainly, Miss Y/L/N. It's Friday, the 16th, and you were asleep for fourteen hours. Turning on lights at 50% brightness." As light slowly filled the room, you took note of your surroundings. The neatly organized shelves, the helmets hung on the walls, the emerald green bedspread that was an almost exact match to the clothes you were wearing.

You groaned. "I'm in Loki's room?"

"Indeed you are, Miss Y/L/N. And I've been instructed by Mister Laufeyson to tell you to meet him at the kitchen when you wake. Will that be all?"

"Yes, FRIDAY, that will be all. Thank you." You took a look around the room, trying to remember anything more than fleeting moments of the last two hours before you fell asleep, to no avail. So you decided instead to follow FRIDAY's words and make your way down to the kitchen to meet Loki.

Once you reached the bottom of the stairs, you noticed that the tower was strangely quiet for a Friday night. "Lo?" you called out into the quiet space, your voice echoing from the walls.

"In here, darling," you heard him call out. When you walked into the kitchen, you had to catch yourself at the sight of him wearing only a pair of green silk pajama bottoms, a match to the sheets upstairs. You willed your eyes not to roam, not to appreciate his literal godly form, to keep them trained on his face. Big mistake, because once he turned around and his eyes met yours, a devilish smirk crossed his features and his eyes roamed your form. "You are quite the beguiling sight in my colors, dear Y/N. I may have to tell Romanoff she's not getting those clothes back."

"You plan on keeping them for yourself?" you quipped, trying your best not to let his gaze affect you. But then he set the plate in his hand down and made his way over to you, crowding your space.

"You have your wits about you again. That's good," he said in a low almost whisper. "You should tell her you're keeping this for yourself." His tone was almost authoritative, as if he wasn't giving you room to protest. You suddenly get flashbacks of him declaring that you would stay with him while you slept in that same tone. Except this time there was a softness to his words, like he was trying to wrap you in them, in his presence.

It's like he's seducing me, you thought to yourself. But there's no way; you're being delusional, Y/N. Of course you were. He didn't see you that way. He never would.

You struggled to compose yourself. "I thought you had a thing against people wearing your colors."

You felt your heartbeat at your fingertips as you watched him raise his hand and slid his finger under and along the strap of your camisole. "Perhaps under the correct circumstances, I would be willing to share." And then he looked at you through his lashes and you could've sworn your heart stopped beating altogether.

The way you saw it, there were two options. Keep the flirty banter going and see how far he'd take it, or stop it where it stood and play it off like a joke between friends. You didn't trust yourself not to get hurt with the first choice. "Pssh," you chuckled. "You know for a second there, Lo, I could've sworn you were flirting." And you gently nudged his hand away and sat down on a stool by the kitchen island. "Where is everybody, by the way?"

"They went out to one of Stark's many clubs to intoxicate themselves on inferior ale and gyrate all over strangers they will cease to remember by morning. Maximoff left that out for you and told me to make sure you ate it once you woke up."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"Nothing in that image fit my rendition of an enjoyable time, darling. And there are far more important things to attend to."

"Such as?"

"Ensuring that someone I care for is taken care of after she endangered herself the way she did this week." There was no mischief in his eyes as he said the words, as he stared into yours, like he was trying to see into your soul. "Y/N, swear to me you'll never be that reckless again. When you nearly fell earlier…" He seemed to fight back his sentiment.

You placed your hand over his. "I promise," you said softly. "I just forgot--"

"You cannot afford to forget these things, Y/N." His voice sounded almost desperate. Then he took a deep breath. "I don't want to live in a world bereft of you a day sooner than I absolutely have to. I do not wish to even contemplate that world, do you understand?" You had no words, no witty comebacks, no jokes, nothing. All you could do was nod as he held on to your free hand, returning your nod as he raised your joint hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. He then let go and motioned to the plate of pasta in front of you. "Eat, darling."

You did your best to focus the next several minutes solely on finishing your plate, rather than allowing your mind to wander in the direction of the smoldering shirtless god standing by the counter pretending to leaf through a book, when in reality he was watching your every movement.

Once you were finally done he ceased his charade and walked over to place himself behind your seat. You visibly stilled as you felt him reach from behind you to slide your plate over to the side, and then proceeding to lean over and rest his chin on your shoulder.

"What’s up?" You did your best to sound casual. He wasn’t ever like this with you. Whatever this was. So to have him behaving like this now? It was jarring, that was for sure.

"Did you know you talked in your sleep, dear Y/N?" Your breathing hitched as you both felt and heard his words, what with him having his lips so dangerously close to your ear. The effects he and that absolutely sinful voice of his had on you felt like they were magnified. Tenfold.

You took a deep, slow breath, trying to find your footing, finally taking notice of how he’d placed his hands on the marble top, effectively trapping you between him and the kitchen counter. You let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Nice try, Lo. I know I don't." You made a motion as if to step off your seat, but his next motions kept you right where you were, as you watched his his forearms flex ever so slightly and he stepped even closer to you and you felt his chest pressing against your upper back. It was clear the message he was trying to send across to you. Don't move an inch.

"That may be so," he started speaking again. He let go of the island and proceeded to sweep your hair over your shoulder with one hand and wrapped his other arm loosely around your waist. "But you say the most interesting things when you're under the influence of that medication, in the moments before you succumbed to its full effects."

Your blood ran cold as you got flashbacks of the most wonderful dream. You were laying in bed, in Loki's arms, as he asked you if you were his. And you told him you were and that you were defenseless against his perfection, that you fell in love with him. Such a damn shame you don't feel the same way.

"That wasn't a dream," you whispered, barely even able to breathe properly as you felt his nose tracing along the length of your exposed neck. "You know." You were doing your best to choke back the sob that threatened to escape you.

"I do."

"I'm sorry." Your voice was barely audible. Any louder and you were sure to be a sobbing mess in his arms.

"What ever for, darling?" His words came out so softly, so lovingly, with just a hint of longing. But surely you were imagining it. Right? "You've done nothing wrong."

"I don't know," you whispered, on the verge of hysterics. "I just feel like I should be apologizing for something." And then another flashback. A dream – no, a memory – of you pressing your lips to his neck right before everything went black. Your breath hitched. "I'm sorry I kissed you."

"Don't be, my precious girl," he crooned. "I quite enjoyed it. The feel of your soft, luscious lips on my skin. It was as if the universe stopped; I wanted it to. I wanted that fleeting moment to go on for eternity." What? "The only thing I did not enjoy was you succumbing to slumber before I could return the favor." Oh, you were sure you stopped breathing now. Was he really saying what you think he was saying? "No matter. You're awake now."

You went near frigid in his hold as you felt him press his lips softly to your skin, and he let out an audible exhale that felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. If you thought he would stop at one, you were adorably naive.

He proceeded to press kiss after kiss to your skin, each getting less chaste, more frantic. You began to question if you were still dreaming, but feeling the edges of the stool you gripped so tightly in your hands digging into your palms told you you most definitely were not. This was real. This was all real.

"Relax, darling," he whispered into your skin before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. You could've sworn your heart stopped beating the moment you felt his tongue flick against your skin. His hold on you tightened so slightly as he moved his lips to your jaw. "You have nothing to fear. You've done nothing wrong, my little mortal." His lips moved closer to yours, stopping at the corner of your mouth and pressing a kiss there. "All you've done is the impossible."

"Which is?" you breathed out, surprised there was any air in your lungs at all after receiving this kind of attention from him. You never thought he would; you often forbid yourself to even dream it. You wouldn't dare, because even in your dreams where you were undoubtedly the best version of yourself, even there you never saw yourself worthy of him.

"I won't tell you until you relax, dear Y/N," he teased, his lips moving against your skin, so tantalizingly close to your lips. "Let go of the breath you're holding and lean in to me."

"I'll fall."

"You won't. I'm here. You're safe with me. You always have been." That did you in and finally you slowly felt yourself loosening your grip on your seat, exhaling and doing exactly what he asked, leaning against him. "Good girl," he murmured, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth, gently tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. "All you've done is love me. As I've loved you."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips with his in a kiss that was heated but held such restraint, as if he was still testing the waters with you. Your heart felt like it was soaring as you started to wrap your head around what was happening, as if a fire was ignited in you that warmed your entire body.

When he pulled away from you, you immediately felt the loss, craving his kiss once more. If you'd thought you were intoxicated by being in his presence before, you were downright drunk on it now. Addicted, even. "Oh, my love. My darling Y/N. It seems one taste of you and I've become insatiable." The feeling's mutual, you thought to yourself, unable to form words. There was that word again. Love. He turned you around in your seat so that you were facing him. "Look at me." You tilted your head up to look into his steel blue eyes, your breath hitching as you saw all the emotions swimming in them. "I want you to say it. Say the words that made me whole. I want to gaze upon your ethereal perfection as you say it. Please, Y/N."

You took a breath, and the words spilled out of you, as if you couldn't say them fast enough. "I love you, Loki Laufeyson."

You watched as the brightest smile lit up his face before he leaned in to kiss you again. "I love you, Y/N Y/L/N." He lifted you into his arms and you wrapped your legs around him, as if by instinct. Like you were meant to do this. Made for it, even. "The only damned shame is that we failed to tell each other sooner. I could have had you so much sooner."

He began to walk you back up the stairs when the elevator doors dinged and opened to reveal Tony and the rest of the team coming back. He took one look at the two of you and blurted out, "I don't even wanna know. I'll see you the week after next, Y/N."

"Keep the clothes, Y/N," Natasha hollered. "Suits you better anyway."

You couldn't be bothered to respond, not like you could anyway. Your lips were otherwise occupied. So you gave a half-hearted thumbs up and waved goodbye at the team watching what was transpiring from the common area.

"Well it's about goddamn time," you heard Wilson boom from the doors. "So who had money on tonight?"

"I did," you heard Wanda answer him. "I told you all to never bet against me, but none of you listened. And now I'm rich. Should I silence Loki's room?" You didn't hear the response. You didn't care.

You faintly heard a door closing before you felt your back hit the silken sheets of his bed. "I must remember to thank Stark for giving you a week away from your duties," he murmured as he pressed kisses to your jaw and neck. "We have an abundance of lost time to make up for, my love."

"Everyone knows exactly what's happening right now," you gasped out, your filter going completely out the window once again.

He pressed a kiss above your heart before looking up at you through his lashes. "Does that bother you? That they know?"

A devious smirk graced your lips as you coyly shook your head. "Not really, no."

A/N: Does this still count as fluff? I don't know anymore lol

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @redbluekjw @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @ficitve-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446

#loki x reader #loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson fluff #marvel fanfic #muddyorbs writes

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whimsimille · 21 days

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THICKER THAN BLOOD

Chapter 1: Road Back Home

Jeong Jin Man x Reader!

Hazy. Your vision was hazy with adrenaline and anger as your hand reaches out to the handle of the refrigerator, and you grip it tightly, preparing for the worst.

Slowly, you push the door open, wincing at the squeak of metal on metal. The harsh light washes over you, making your eyes water, but you force yourself to look inside.

A telltale odor overrode everything—it was sharp, clinical even—the sorrowful symphony of death and formaldehyde that filled your nostrils. Of course, it did not take long for you to get used to it.

It's not unlike any other mortuary fridge—shelves lined with bodies wrapped in white cloths or paper sheets, each one tagged with a label displaying their name and cause of death. But two in particular catch your eye: the one where Jeong Jin-Suk, Ji-An’s father, lays now and the one where Jeong Ji-An clings to her mother's lifeless form like a koala bear holding onto a tree branch. She's huddled close, her body shaking violently as she tries to keep warm while sobbing silently into her mother's chest, pulling her close as if trying to keep her warm or wake her up.

It was blatantly obvious that she was faking sleep. Her tiny trembling form snuggled against her mother's unmoving body; her eyes clenched shut whilst suppressed sobs caused shudders in her small frame.

Still, there was no mistaking whose blood she had — Jin-Man’s for sure. Those sharp instincts that devised clever escapes from cruel men intent on ending her lineage mirrored his. She was his niece, through and through.

You couldn't help but see yourself mirrored in her. It was as if you were looking back in time to just a few hours ago, back at her house. The sticky warmth of Honda's blood was still palpable on your hands, so real that you could almost smell the metallic scent.

The crushing weight of his lifeless body in your arms was a sensation that haunted you—the way his eyes, once filled with life, had stared blankly at the ceiling, void of any hint of the spirit that had once resided there.

If someone were to ask you right now, you would tell them that you wanted to die with him, that you yearned to join him in whatever came after this life. You would say that you wanted to lay down next to his covered grave, your fingers tracing the rough texture of the soil and the silky petals of red roses as you took your final breaths to rejoin him in death. If they asked why you didn't, why you chose to live instead, you would have no answer.

His death is the one you do not know how to talk about or grieve without almost dying from the agony of it. His death was the most life-altering thing that you have ever had to survive and you almost drowned in the tides of it. You did not know how to swim in those kinds of waters.

You never thought you would need to learn how.

Jesus, stop with it, Y/N. Enough. He is gone. Get over it. Let him rest in peace. Ji-An needs you now more than ever.

Carefully, as if handling a delicate artifact, you hid your gun and your knife behind your back, out of sight. Next, you reached out slowly and gently uncurled her fingers from her mother's limp ones before lifting her up slightly so she could lean against you as you stepped away from the cold metal box containing the dead body of a woman who should never have been there in the first place.

Tightening her grip around your neck, she presses her face into your chest, her hot tears seeping through your shirt. Your fingertips, where they lay comfortingly on her back, feel her heartbeat hammering rapidly beneath them.

Ji-An was afraid of you—that much you knew; you felt it in the way she kept herself tense against you, crying but not making much noise—like being quiet would make you more tolerable or maybe even forgettable. It seems that neither her uncle nor Honda prepared her for the idea of you showing up there while he was away taking care of his "business."

"Calm down, Ji... It's okay. Noona won't hurt you, okay? I'll take you back to your uncle. I'm his friend." You murmured against her hair. You felt a pang of guilt for staining the bottom of her hospital gown with your blood and for the sight of death she had to witness in the mortuary.

Leaving the cold, sterile room, your senses were on high alert; every little sound felt amplified—the hiss of your breath as you exhaled, the drip-drip-drip of blood from your wounds, and the muffled thud of Jeong Ji-An's heart against your chest.

As you turned a corner, you noticed the two killers lying lifeless on the ground, their eyes glazed over in terror, one with a bullet in his head and the other in his heart. They'd never expected someone like you to show up here tonight. A smirk tugged at your lips as you brushed past them without a second thought. This was personal for you, after all; payback for what they had done to Jeong Jin-Man and his family. To yours, as well.

You continued towards the exit, careful not to step on any broken glass or discarded weapons lying around from earlier skirmishes, guiding Jeong Ji-An through these darkened halls.

An eye for an eye. A leg for a leg. A life for a life. A soul for a soul.

Swiftly and silently, you wove your way through the hospital's maze-like corridors. Your steps, nearly soundless on the cold, clinical tiles, echoed the stealth of a ghost as you blended perfectly into the low-lit ambiance.

Snuggled against your untouched side was Ji-An; her heartbeat quickened and was palpable like a terrified bunny caught in headlights. Her only sounds are swallowed whimpers leaking onto your blood-smeared shirt and inconsistent breaths overpowered by the persistent drone of the hospital’s fans, a nurse rushing past with a tray of instruments and an orderly mopping up blood and fluids on the floor, leaving streaks of cleaner fumes.

From down that hall sprang a nurse, impeccable in her sleek white uniform. A neat dark knot atop her head completed her picture; a clipboard filled with lives quite literally sketched out on charts and doctor notes was clutched in one hand.

Drawing near, she became a threat to remain unseen—every sinew screamed at you to recede or flee, but neither was an option with Ji-An safest in your arms. Your once-perfect cover as another doctor now betrays you, with vivid emblems of dried-up crimson coated across it.

While she strode ahead, forgoing caution, you obstructed her path, making your presence radiant against your shadowy backdrop. Her eyes shot wide open upon seeing you before they squinted dubiously at multiple points connecting pieces to make her conclusion.

Instinctively reaching down for an intercom button dutifully stationed at her hip proved futile—it didn’t match your speed.

"Wait!" you whispered urgently, holding up your hand to stop her from pressing the button.

Before she could react, you had her pinned against the wall, her startled gasp echoing down the empty hallway. Your hand shot out, pressing the tiny scanner attached to your wrist against hers.

For a tense moment, both of you were frozen, the only sound in the quiet hallway being the soft beep of the scanner as it processed the information.

When you pulled back, her eyes widened even further. The small screen on your wrist lit up with the identification of a chip. She was an agent.

You thanked all the gods for making you so good at making programs.

"Who...who are you?" she stammered, her eyes darting nervously between you and the door.

"I'm here to protect her," you replied quietly, nodding towards Ji-An. "And you're going to help me."

For a second, she just stared at you, her eyes wide and frightened. Then, slowly, she lowered her gaze to her own wrist, where your code was displayed in bright neon green. It was the highest clearance level—only Jin-Man possessed it. Or so everyone thought.

"Impossible," she murmured, her eyes darting back to yours.

"Believe it," you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips.

She looked back up at you, her expression unreadable. Then she nodded, her hand slowly moving away from the intercom button. "Okay," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Follow me."

In silence, she led you and Ji-An through the hospital's maze of corridors, bypassing the bustling ER and the curious looks of other staff members.

Walking behind her muted your adrenaline-fueled heartbeat while every waking sense within sharpened, cutting-edge-like attentiveness to every change—a sudden whisper of air against cotton scrubs or distant clatter—anything that dared disrupt these meticulously planned sequences.

Nearing the hospital exit, a sturdy security guard caught your attention. He was sitting behind a polished oak desk, engrossed in a glossy magazine.

The fluorescent light from the ceiling above glinted off his gold-plated name tag, revealing his name: 'Officer Kim'. He heard your footsteps and looked up, his eyebrows arching inquisitively at the sight of the frightened girl in your arms.

Now an ally, the nurse stepped forward assertively. "Dr. Jun Hadou requires assistance moving this patient," she articulated crisply. She gestured towards Ji-An in your arms. "She's been through a lot tonight and it's crucial she gets home to rest."

She then leaned in towards the officer, as if sharing a confidential piece of information. "There was utter pandemonium earlier because of an emergency surgery that took way longer than expected. We're all hands on deck, even Dr. Jun here."

Officer Kim gave a nod of understanding, his eyes softening as they landed on Ji-An. "Poor kid," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else. He gave the two of you a once-over before shrugging and returning to his magazine, a dog-eared issue of 'Security Weekly'.

With a silent exhale of relief, you moved closer to the distantly parked car, feeling as though a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

Sincerity brimmed in your newly-turned-ally’s gaze when she asked, "Is she going to be okay?"

You nodded, tightening your hold on Ji-An. "She's a fighter. She'll make it through."

The cool night air hit your face like a slap as soon as you stepped outside, cleansing it from any remaining hospital smells and noises—replaced by freshness and darkness instead. The parking lot was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across your path as you made your way towards the car—an old but sturdy sedan that once belonged to Honda—and the crunch of gravel beneath your feet echoed in the silence, punctuated only by the rustling of paper in the wind.

You moved quickly, ensuring to avoid any onlookers or cameras that could incriminate you both.

The car door opened with a soft click, and you settled her into the backseat before climbing in after her.

Glancing at Jeong Ji-An huddled in the back seat through the rear-view mirror, you noticed the flicker of moonlight reflecting on her wet cheeks and how she clutched at her hospital gown. Her eyes, the color of dark chocolate, were tightly closed, her small face scrunched up with effort as if trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Her tiny frame curled up against the worn leather seats, shaking. Each breath was a struggle, forcing her small ribcage outward as it hitched.

The engine roared to life, filling the car with heat while you fished out a damp cloth from your bag and dabbed at her face gently. Cool water soon replaced some of the tears and sweat that had collected there.

"Thank you," she whispered hoarsely from behind shaking lips, her voice barely audible even to you.

"Don't mention it," you replied softly, pulling away from the hospital grounds cautiously. Having someone so precious, so vulnerable in your care was a new experience. It made every turn of the wheel and every press of the accelerator or brake seem infinitely more significant, requiring deliberate caution.

As the night enveloped the car, your eyes darted frantically around every corner and alleyway, the adrenaline from your earlier altercation still pumping through your veins, keeping you on high alert.

"We're almost home.”

“Noona?”

“Yes, Darling?”

“Did my uncle die too?”

“Die? What? Dying means joining-”

“I know what dying means, auntie. Uncle Jin-Man... is he dead too? Like omma and appa?”

"No, darling," you managed to choke out, the words feeling like shards of glass in your throat as they fought their way out. "Your Uncle Jin-Man hasn't... he hasn't joined them. Not yet."

"A-And I saw... I saw Uncle's friend. He was... he was hurt. Did he... did he go away too?"

As Ji-An spoke, the image of Honda filled your mind.

Honda, your twin brother, Jin-Man's right-hand man, always standing tall and proud, always full of life and hope.

Now, the thought of him being gone was unbearable.

Memories flooded back to you, like a torrential river that had broken its banks. You, as children, laughing and playing in the park, the sun casting long shadows as it began to set. Honda would be there, signing furiously as he tried to keep up with your games, his fingers dancing in the air like a ballet of silent words.

You remembered your eighth birthday, when you baked him a cake shaped like a train. It was amateurish and lopsided, but the look of utter delight on his face when you presented it to him was priceless. His hands moved quickly to sign, 'Thank you' over and over again.

There was a silence that always hung around him, a silence born from his inability to speak. But Honda had never let that stop him from expressing himself. He was the most expressive person you knew; his hands and face said more than words ever could. His silence was a beautiful symphony that only you understood.

Honda's smile, his laughter, his silent words—they all play in the back of your brain like the soundtrack to a horror film. The memories you don't want to keep could fill graveyards, but you do not have the energy to dig, to label every headstone, or to plant flowers at every edge.

You do not have the energy to bury brotherhood like a corpse, to label its death a suicide. You're ready to set this thing on fire, to watch as the flames consume the painful past, but you cannot bring yourself to light the match.

Grief has made a home inside of you. It had renovated the broken patchwork of your skin and the worn framework of your limbs. It had breathed life into your scars, only to make them bleed again. It now resides in the foundations of your bones, in the quiet rooms between your heartbeats. It has seeped into the floorboards of your soul, staining the wood with its dark, relentless hue. It's like a painting you can't stop looking at—a masterpiece. Grief was a cruel architect, reconstructing your heart into a house of sorrow.

Grief had moved in, settled down, and seemed like it was here to stay.

Even in death, your brother will decorate your heart.

You wanted to scream, to shout, to let out all the pent-up frustration and sorrow. But you couldn't. Not now. Not when Ji-An needed you.

Suddenly, a shadow darted across the road. Your heart pounded in your chest as you swerved the car, narrowly avoiding a large creature that looked like a hyena. Its yellow eyes glinted in the moonlight, and you caught a glimpse of a hand and something shiny and metallic in its mouth—Honda's brass knuckles. The ones you had gifted him on his 16th birthday as a joke, but he kept them, always wearing them as a symbol of protection.

The sudden swing of the steering wheel made the car skid on the gravel, spewing a cloud of dust that obscured your vision. Your heart was stuck in your throat as you fought to regain control over the vehicle, your hands gripping the wheel so tight that your knuckles turned white.

With a shaky breath, you blinked, quickly rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand. When you looked again, the road was empty, save for the dancing dust particles in your headlights' glow. The hyena was gone, and there was no sign of Honda's brass knuckles. It was as if the animal and the precious memento it carried had never been there at all.

Feeling a warm wetness on your cheeks, you realized that you were crying. Hastily, you wiped at your eyes, not wanting Ji-An to see you in this vulnerable state. But it was too late.

From the backseat, Ji-An's voice trembled. "I... I saw it too," she stated, her fingers lightly brushing your arm. "The... the thing in the road, noona.”

Glancing at her in the rearview mirror, you quickly fibbed, “It was just a deer, sweetheart," hoping to calm her down.

However, she shook her head adamantly, her grip on your arm tightening. "No, it wasn't. I... I've been seeing it since... since I saw my uncle's friend on the floor."

Honda, she was talking about Honda. Your twin. Your mirror image.

"What did it look like, Ji?" You asked gently, attempting to understand the enigma she was seeing.

"It... it was large. Like a monster. With yellow eyes... and it... it had something shiny in its mouth and… and a hand. But it goes away if you don't scream or make a sound! Uncle said... he said only weak people make sounds. That it... it gets scared of your strength."

You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. This brought a bitter taste to your mouth. Jin-Man’s teachings were hard and cold, just like him.

"You're not weak, Ji. You're the strongest girl I know. And believe me, I've seen many."

She didn't respond, but you could feel her gaze on you, heavy and searching.

As you drove, Ji-An finally whispered, her voice so quiet you almost missed it. "I wish we could go home to Uncle," she murmured. "I don't like being alone. I don't like the dark. Mom and Dad didn't like it either."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

The rest of the drive was silent, the only sound being the hum of the engine and the occasional soft sniffle from Ji-An.

Thoughts of Jin-Man’s cold eyes boring into you once you got home were oddly comforting. It was better than being alone. Better than being haunted by the ghosts of your past.

In your mind, you could see Jin-Man's stern face as he roughly cleaned your wounds, his hands firm but careful. You could almost feel the sting of the antiseptic and the harsh pull of the bandage being secured too tight. "You're going to die too young at this rate."

You could picture him watching you from afar as you lit a cigarette, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. "I don't like the smell of blood and nicotine on you."

And even though these weren't the most comforting images, they gave you something to hold onto something other than the haunting emptiness of being alone. It gave you a sense of familiarity, a sense of home, no matter how skewed it was.

-------

One month later

The diagnosis of 'Aphasia associated with Dissociative Amnesia' was scrawled on the paper in front of you in the pediatrician doctor's hasty handwriting. It was a medical term that felt too large and too heavy for the tiny girl it was attached to.

When you looked away from the glaring black letters, you saw Ji-An curled up in the backseat of Jin-Man's truck.

Blurred landscapes reflected themselves in her wide, doe-like eyes as she silently absorbed them through the window.

Ever since that spine-chilling hospital night, she's been caged in a quiet world, her words locked behind invisible bars. It seemed like someone had snatched away her voice and reduced her to near silence and you didn't even know which was worse—the image of her crying or her silent, vacant stare. Either way, it was a haunting reminder of the trauma she had endured.

Sighing deeply, you turned back to view what raced outside. Midnight shadows played tag with dawn's first light piercing through leaves now tinted golden brown. Trees were naught but fleeting streaks rendered blurred by speed against this backdrop. Birds chirped their morning songs from atop telephone wires and trees and somewhere in the distance, a dog barked once before going quiet again.

Just then, something patted your leg, jolting you out of your reverie. Glancing up, you saw Jin-Man's face, his brow was arched in a silent question, his dark eyes probing, trying to gauge your state of mind.

Ever since Honda's death, your words have become scarce. You only spoke when necessary, choosing instead to keep your thoughts and feelings locked away.

On top of Honda's freshly dug grave during his final rites, you willed yourself to be one with him a couple heartbeats later, a wild urge tickling at some primal instinct buried within—a desire to claw open his pine box and nestle next to him just like an animal would do. Returning home. Returning to him.

You would then pretend to be ready for deep sleep, wantonly giving yourself all control over whatever comes. Deep down, you knew those seeds needed germination, especially now that dirt has lined their lifeless forms.

But Jin-Man had been there, pulling you back. He had held you as you crumbled, physically and emotionally. He had helped you take your PTSD medication, his firm grip guiding the pill to your mouth.

Suddenly, you noticed Jin-Man hastily moving his hands, catching your peripheral vision once the car came to a stop at a red light.

His fingers formed the familiar shape of a rabbit, then he pointed towards his bag, which was resting on your lap, the leather of it creaking under the pressure of his touch.

You squinted at him, your own hands moving in a flurry of motion as you signed back, your brows furrowed in confusion and a hint of amusement. "A rabbit? Really, Jin-Man? You're telling me you snuck a rabbit into the car?"

Jin-Man rolled his eyes. His hands moved with an air of impatience as he signed, "No, not a live rabbit, you idiot. Ji-An's bunny plush toy. The one with the pink bow and the missing eye."

You huffed in exasperation, shooting a glare his way. "Well, maybe you should learn to sign better. Honestly, Honda was way better at this than you. He was clearer, more precise. You're just... sloppy.”

Jin-Man just scoffed, shaking his head at your teasing. "Maybe I would be better if you didn't always insist on being the one to teach me. You're not exactly the best teacher, you know."

“Screw you, Ahjusshi. I'm a fantastic teacher. And how the hell did you even manage to swipe the plushie from the police station? That’s just reckless.”

Jin-Man smirked, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous light. “I have my ways.”

“Jin-Man! That’s dangerous! You could’ve gotten caught.”

“Nothing happened. I’m still here, aren’t I? Anyway, stop fussing and give the damn toy to Ji-An, will you?”

Ignoring his words, you reached into his bag, your fingers brushing against the soft fabric of the stuffed rabbit. It was a worn-out thing; its once vibrant colors faded with time and love. You could feel the patches where Ji-An had tried to mend them; stitches crooked but strong.

Pulling it out, you turned to pass it to the girl, your hand instinctively reaching out to caress her face.

You lightly tapped her adorable button nose with your finger, a small smile pulling at your lips. "You should get some sleep, sweetheart," you murmured, your voice rough from how long it took for you to speak. Actually, you just spoke aloud to her. Not even with Jin-Man.

Ji-An took the plush toy, her small hands clutching it tightly. "But I'm not tired," she protested, her wide eyes looking up at you as she signed. It was a rare occurrence for her to communicate, even through sign language, but when she did, it was always endearing.

"Yes, you are.” Jin-Man stopped signing once the car began to move again. “And if you don't sleep now, the ugly rabbit will be very sad."

Ji-An's eyes widened at that, her grip on the plush toy tightening. "I don't want the bunny to be sad.”

Smiling tenderly at her, you gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "Then it's settled. Time to sleep a little bit."

The bunny plush seemed to give her comfort, her tiny hands clutching it tightly as she snuggled deeper into the seat, her eyes fluttering shut. It was a small victory, but it was enough for now. Enough to keep moving forward.

With the soft, rhythmic hum of the car engine acting as a soothing background melody, you turned back to Jin-Man. “What about Ji-An's school? Have you had a chance to talk to them yet?”

Jin-Man glanced at you, his dark eyes flickering towards the rear-view mirror to check on his niece, who was quietly dozing off in the back seat. "I've spoken to the principal and a few of her teachers. They're aware of Ji-An's situation. As far as they're concerned, her parents are on an extended trip overseas and she's staying with her uncle for the time being."

You raised an eyebrow, your fingers shaping the words. "And the students? What about them? It's not just the adults at the school who need to understand. How are the other kids going to react to her situation?"

Jin-Man shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant gesture. "Kids adapt quicker than you'd think. She'll be fine."

You huffed, signing, "Don't be so sure, Jeong. Kids can be cruel, especially to those who are different. She's mute now and that's going to make her a target. We need to prepare her for that."

He was silent for a moment, considering your words, before he muttered, "We'll deal with it if it comes to that."

Not satisfied but willing to let it slide for now, you decided to change the topic. "What about Babylon? Are they still sniffing around for us?"

Jin-Man's eyes hardened, a glint of steel flashing in them. "They're always after us. But we've managed to stay a step ahead. For now."

"What about the shop? How's Murthehelp coming along?"

His lips curled into a small smirk, a spark of excitement lighting up his otherwise stoic face. "Pasin is almost done with the base. It's looking good. You'd love it. There are many pretty weapons, just like Honda would have wanted."

At the mention of your brother, you couldn't help but smile back, signing, "About the site... I've been working on the new codes, but there are still a few bugs that need fixing. Besides that, the chips are working perfectly."

Jin-Man nodded, his hand resting on the steering wheel as he guided the car through the quiet streets. "Take your time. We want it to be perfect. We're not in a hurry. He would want us to do this right."

As the car continues along the highway, your fingers tap to an invisible rhythm against the leather seat as you watch Ji-An sleep, her cherubic face calm for once. You can't help but wonder what she dreams about—is she frolicking with fluffy bunnies in a sun-dappled meadow or staring down the monster with the shiny hand in a dark, foreboding alley?

You swallow hard against a lump in your throat. Honda was always so protective of kids, always making sure they were safe. Now that he's gone, you feel his absence like a physical weight on your shoulders. Jin-Man too. He glances at you occasionally in the rearview mirror, his eyes full of concern for both of you. He takes long, slow breaths that betray his worry for your silence and Ji-An's muteness. You know he feels responsible for their wellbeing, as if he failed in some way.

Your stomach rumbles, reminding you that breakfast is still waiting at home. Butterflies dance in your belly at that thought. Jin-Man has taken over most cooking duties since you moved in. His meals filled with home-cooked rice and kimchi stew comfort you in a way nothing else does anymore.

As if sensing your hunger through your silent communication system, he reaches over and hands over a pack of chips from his smaller bag. It tastes salty and old under your tongue as your jaw works furiously to break down each piece into smaller ones.

Grinning, you decided to push your luck. You reached over, taking one of the chips from the packet and holding it up towards the man. "Open up, old man. Let's share this gourmet meal.”

His brows furrowed in mock annoyance, he retorted, “I’m not hungry, old lady, and that's hardly a gourmet meal. It’s just a cheap bag of gas station chips.”

“Don’t lie to me, Jin-Man. I know you well enough to see through your bluff. Besides, in this car, in this moment, they taste better than any expensive restaurant food.”

He shot you an exasperated look, but the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in a reluctant smile. He opened his mouth nonetheless, allowing you to pop the chip in.

Jeong chewed slowly, savoring the taste despite his earlier protest. His cheeks puffed out with each mouthful, transforming his stern features into a comically adorable sight. You couldn't help but chuckle—a soft, breathy sound that filled the car with a warmth that had been missing for a long time.

"You always manage to make these trips bearable, don't you?" Jin-Man mumbled around his mouthful of chips, his voice softening.

"Well, someone has to keep the spirits up," you quipped, reaching for another chip. "Besides, it's not every day we get to enjoy such a luxurious feast."

As Jin-Man drove, the cityscape gradually changed, giving way to the undulating greenery of the countryside. You watched as the concrete jungle was replaced by rolling hills, farms dotted with cows and sheep, and tractors moving steadily in the distance. Men and women, dressed in well-worn overalls and sturdy boots, worked diligently under the sun, their faces obscured by wide-brimmed hats.

Your eyes were drawn to a cluster of trucks parked near a barn, their bright colors standing out against the muted palette of the farm. A few workers were loading bales of hay onto one of the trucks, their muscles straining under the weight.

The car finally slowed down as you approached a quaint farmhouse nestled amidst the fields. Jin-Man parked the car carefully, the crunch of gravel under the tires breaking the serene silence.

The house was old but well-maintained, its white paint gleaming in the sunlight. A row of rose bushes lined the front porch, their vibrant blooms adding a splash of color to the scene.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jin-Man's hand move towards the ignition, turning the key and silencing the car's constant hum. The sudden silence was almost deafening; the absence of noise made your ears ring.

As you swiveled around in your seat, prepared to gently wake Ji-An, you found she was already stirring.

Sleepily, she unfastened her seatbelt, her small hands fumbling with the clasp. She began gathering her things, clutching her bunny plush toy close to her chest. Jin-Man, in his own quiet way, was also preparing to exit the car, gathering his belongings with an air of quiet introspection.

"Do you need help with your belongings, Ji?" you asked, reaching out to help her. Your hand hovered over her tiny form, ready to provide assistance.

But she shook her head, her small lips forming a stubborn line. Her tiny hands clenched tighter around her belongings, the bunny plush toy almost disappearing in her fierce grip.

Ji-An was stubborn, always wanting to do things on her own. It was one of the things you admired about her—her fierce independence shining in even the simplest of actions.

As the three of you approached the front door, Ji-An trailed somewhat behind, and Jin-Man fumbled with his keys. His usually nimble fingers were uncharacteristically clumsy, the keys jingling loudly in the quiet morning.

He walked ahead, his heavy boots crunching against the gravel path. Every step echoed in the silence, a steady rhythm in the calm of the morning. Ji-An tried her best to match his pace, her tiny feet stumbling against the uneven surface, but she maintained her determined expression.

Without warning, she lost her balance and fell to the ground, a small gasp escaping her lips that sounded loud in the quiet.

You immediately moved to kneel and help her, your maternal instincts kicking in. But Jin-Man turned around and shook his head at you, his eyes meeting yours in a silent conversation.

He wanted to handle this.

Jeong then crouched down in front of Ji-An with his stern gaze as he met her wide-eyed stare. "Listen, Jeong Ji-An. I'm not your father. I will never be. That means I will never do the things he did to you."

Ji-An could only look at him, her doe-like eyes filled with an emotion you couldn't decipher. Fear? Confusion? Maybe a bit of both.

Without another word, Jin-Man stood up and walked into the house, leaving both of you outside. His retreating figure, tall and stern, disappeared into the dimly lit hallway, leaving behind an awkward silence that hung heavily in the air.

This motherfucker! She is just a fucking child! Come on!

Cursing him under your breath, you knelt down in front of Ji-An, the gravel crunching underneath your weight. Your hand moved gently, brushing the dirt off her mini jeans jumper that matched yours—a pair of overalls that were adorned with tiny stars and moons. "Don't mind him, sweetheart. He might be grumpy, but he'll come around someday."

Seeing her still looking a bit upset, her brows furrowed and her bottom lip trembling slightly, you decided to use one of her favorite metaphors to explain Jin-Man's behavior. "You know those wildlife documentaries you like so much, Ji-An? Think of your uncle as one of those grumpy old bears. He might growl and seem scary, but deep down, he's just trying to protect his turf. And just like those bears, he can also be quite silly sometimes, especially when he forgets where he left his honey...or in Jin-Man's case, his keys."

She only looked at you. Her eyes linger on the red bandana on your long hair, the way it fluttered slightly in the morning breeze, then your sneakers, scuffed and worn, then finally your eyes. Eyes that held a world of promises and shared her pain.

Feeling her gaze on you, you gave her a comforting smile, your hand reaching out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It might not be the same, but you can always count on me, okay? I might not be your mom, but I can be someone you can lean on. Like an older sister, a noona or an unnie. We can face any challenge together, okay?"

As you spoke, you felt her lean towards you, her small body seeking comfort and warmth. Your heart clenched at the sight, at the trusting innocence in her eyes.

"Would you like to hug, Ji-An?" you asked gently, your arms opening in invitation.

Her eyes widened a bit, surprise evident in her face, before she gave a tiny nod.

Swiftly, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close to you. Her body felt so small and fragile against yours, her heartbeat a soft rhythm against your chest.

Now, under the gentle light of the 8 a.m. sun, you understand why wolves guard their pups fiercely, why birds return to their nests year after year, why a bear would face any danger for her cubs. You understand why a beaver tirelessly repairs its dam, why elephants return to their birthplace to give birth, why a penguin would journey miles to feed its young. You comprehend why a tree nurtures its saplings, why the river always flows to the sea, why the sun rises every day. You get it now. The offspring were their purpose.

And now Ji-An might become yours.

After all, when your eyes are closed, water feels just as thick as blood.

#a shop for killers #lee dongwook x fem! reader #lee dong wook x reader #lee dong wook #jeong jin man #jeong jian #so minhye #pasin #imagine #korean actor #jeong jin man x reader

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