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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Milkshakes

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Overwhelmed when Loki saves you, you respond to his kindness with fear. Determined to apologize, you seek Loki out to thank him with a couple of milkshakes and some fries. Warnings: a tad angsty but much fluff A/N: This is actually one of my favorite fics I’ve ever written. Hope you all enjoy :)

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely

Disclaimer: Picture not mine

Of course it had to be during your lunch break that a supervillain attacked the city. Of course today you decided to go out to eat instead of packing something. And, of course you had to be walking by the building right as it crumbled. You started praying to any god that there may be to save you from being crushed. Though, you hadn’t actually expected one to save you.

In the moments before you would have been flattened, Loki put an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. Raising his free hand, a glimmering green force field appeared around you. The falling matter bounced off of it and landed around you, the shield offering strong protection. Of course you were thankful to be rescued, but did have to be Loki? You knew he was supposedly reformed, but so many news outlets still ran stories about how he was dangerous. A ticking time bomb. You’d never quite formed an opinion on him, and it was causing great conflict in you now. On the one hand, he looked very intimidating from this close, what with his impressive stature and horned helmet and all. But on the other, he was saving you from the actual super villain destroying the city. Perhaps if there wasn’t so much going on, you could think more clearly. Alas, your thoughts were a messy, confused jumble, leaving you fearful of the super-powered god in front of you.

“Are you alright?” he asked in his deep, smooth accent as the shield shimmered away into nothing. The god brought his arm to shield your eyes from the small pieces of debris still falling, the other one still around your waist in a protective manner. “Are you injured at all?

“I, um, uh, I- I,” you stammered, backing up. “Mhm. All good. Uhhh, thanks.”

You were certain you must be the most awkward person in history, but instead of making fun of you, Loki just looked sad. Even with the hurt behind his eyes, his arms shot out to catch you when you stumbled over the wreckage. He guided you away from the obstacles to a place where you could walk unhindered. He moved back from you as soon as he’d finished escorting you.

“You are welcome,” he finally responded. “I am sorry for frightening you. You should get somewhere safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he left to rejoin the battle. You started retreating from the scene, steering as clear of any large structures as you could, cursing yourself the whole time. Loki had saved you, and you’d been afraid of him. What kind of nonsense was that? And you were certain he got that kind of reaction all the time, based on the way he’d looked at you and realized your bumbling actions were a result of fear. Fear of him after he’d so carefully and gently saved you.

You felt stupid and petty as you joined a throng of people being guided away from the scene. After nearly two years of working to protect the city, Loki should have gotten more praise and love than he did. You realized it now, only moments too late. Someone should tell him he was appreciated, a hero. And if no one else was going to do it, you resolved to do it yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The meeting was dreadfully boring, but someone had to go. Seeing as all the other Avengers were busy, that someone was Loki. Besides, Stark had told him it would be good for his image to head up the restoration of the city this time round. The committee and resources were all a part of Stark Industries, of course, so Loki felt there should be some employee to take care of it instead of him. But whatever, he’d been roped into it now, and he figured that there was some merit to what Tony has said about his reputation.

Luckily, with a week having passed since the battle, great headway had been made with the repairs, and the meeting was much shorter than expected. Itching to get outside, Loki headed to the main doors.

“You don’t understand,” Loki heard someone say to the receptionist as he approached the front desk. “He saved me the other day. I have to thank him. Please?”

Loki just rolled his eyes as he pushed through the turnstile. He couldn’t even begin to count how many fans had tried this tactic to meet their favorite Avengers. Granted, no one had ever tried to see him, but he was coming to terms with it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder which of his colleagues you were trying to get through to see. Perhaps Steve, or maybe even Thor. Loki was so lost in thought it barely even registered when the voice switched from pleading with the receptionist to calling after him.

He turned and stopped, recognizing the person jogging after him as you, who he remembered from the battle. “May I help you?” he asked in the most pleasant tone he could manage.

“Yeah. Uh, hi. I don’t know if you remember, but you saved me the other day,” you explained sheepishly. “You know, during the attack.”

“Yes, I recall.”

“Oh! Good. I just wanted to say thank you for that. For saving me, I mean. And the city.”

“I see,” the god replied, suspiciously raising an eyebrow. “Well then, you are welcome. Really, I was just doing my job, though.”

“Well, I still appreciate it.” There was a lapse in the conversation, as neither of you were really sure what to say next. “Can we go somewhere? Like for coffee or something. Can I buy you a coffee?”

Oddly enough, that made Loki distrust the situation even more. Ok, maybe you were actually a super nice person who had a guilty conscience for making him feel bad, and maybe that prompted you to come thank him properly. But that you wanted to buy him something, presumably to show your newfound appreciation? Absolutely preposterous. The only people who ever did something remotely as kind as that were his fellow Avengers, and not even all of them or particularly often. Any of the other people who openly supported him didn’t show appreciation, per se. It was more that they felt he’d done enough to redeem himself at this point, which wasn’t exactly the most thrilling phrasing either. But here you were, awkwardly shuffling your feet and asking to buy him coffee. Loki supposed he shouldn’t pass such an opportunity up. And yet, he probably was going to.

“No thank you,” he finally replied, shaking himself from the shocked, catatonic state he’d fallen into. “I do not much like coffee.”

As he walked away, he thought that would be the end of it. That perhaps you’d only been talking to him in the hopes he’d invite you to see the other Avengers, too. That maybe you’d go back to trying to wheedle your way inside at the front desk. Much to his surprise, you came hurrying after him.

“Wait,” you called. “Ok, so scratch the coffee. How about ice cream or tea or a milkshake or something? Anything really, you name it.”

Now that you were outside, he observed you again while he thought, as if hoping the sunlight would reveal your true intentions. He couldn’t find anything malicious in your expression, just some sort of anxiety. Loki must have taken too long in coming to a decision, because you started rambling.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to pressure you into it or anything, but I wanted to do something nice to say thank you and-” you cut off and bit your lip. “Is this stupid? It sounds stupid. It’s probably stupid. I’ll go now. Again, I’m really sorry to have bothered you.”

“One moment,” he said before you could make your retreat. “You said anything I want, correct?” You eagerly nodded as Loki got an idea. “Alright then. I would like a five course meal at the nicest restaurant in London, please and thank you.”

“I, um. I know I said anything but, uh...” You noticed his serious expression had turned into a sly grin. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. My apologies, but I simply could not resist,” he chuckled.

You began to laugh, too. Not in a way that made him think it was out of courtesy or pity, but an honest to goodness laugh. Briefly, he thought it one of the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard, before quickly shaking the idea from his mind. It was ridiculous; he hardly even knew you. But you seemed pretty adamant on showing your gratitude. Plus, you’d apologized to him, which was more than he could say for most of the people in his life.

“You know, I would usually say tea, but a milkshake actually sounds quite lovely right now,” he told you once you’d calmed down. “That is, if the offer is still open.”

“Of course it is!” you happily told him, the smile on your face growing. Not to mention you seemed much more at ease. “I actually know a great diner that’s just a short walk from here, if that works for you.”

“By all means, lead the way.”

It took approximately ten minutes to get to the restaurant. After properly introducing yourselves, you kept up a light dialogue. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly; just hesitant, as if both of you were afraid of saying the wrong things and shattering the blissful moment. Loki still couldn’t bring himself to fully trust you. Such a feeling just wasn’t in his nature, especially not when it came to someone he just met and had a considerably rocky start with. Even so, he found himself enjoying your company.

Arriving at the diner, Loki held the door open for you as you walked in. Luckily, you didn’t have to wait for a seat, the classic red stools at the bar free at this time of the afternoon. Loki swiveled the seat back and forth ever so slightly, and found himself chuckling when he caught you doing the same thing. You offered him a shy smile as a waitress handed the both of you a menu.

The God of Mischief had only ever had the pleasure of drinking a milkshake once before, a vanilla one when the team had convinced him to try it on one of their outings. He’d thoroughly enjoyed it and planned on playing it safe by ordering the same thing now. When you asked what he was getting, though, you were having none of that. After nearly five minutes of rousing debate, you’d finally talked him up to chocolate. Part of him was having so much fun with the discussion and how animated you became about the topic that he almost didn’t want to concede. But the waitress came back to take your orders, and he didn’t want to make her leave and come back again.

“Oh, and some French fries too please,” you added after ordering your favorite milkshake.

Loki shot you a perplexed look. “French fries?” he asked after the waitress moved away.

“Yeah. Please tell me you’ve heard of them before.”

“I have. I have even eaten them a few times before, believe it or not,” he answered as you turned to face him, leaning on the counter. “But are you certain they go with a milkshake?”

Your jaw dropped open. “Of course they do. Listen, Loki, you haven’t lived until you’ve dipped French fries in a milkshake. You’ll love it, I promise.”

You continued to help him expand his knowledge of Midgardian cuisine as you waited for your order to come. Once it arrived, you dipped a fry in your shake, just as you had said, trying to convince him just how delicious it truly was. The trickster skeptically picked one up and mimicked your actions, plunging it into the frothy liquid. The second it hit his tongue, his face lit up in pure delight.

“See, I told you,” you laughed.

“Indeed you did,” he said back, the corners of his eyes crinkling from how wide his smile was.

An hour and another order of fries later, the two of you finished your snack. Loki was in a better mood than he’d been all month. Honestly, he was a little sad when the bill came.

“Are you certain you do not want me to pay?” he checked as you fished out a twenty from your wallet to cover the low-cost meal. “Or we could split it, at least.”

“Loki, it’s fine,” you giggled. “This is me thanking you, remember? And, honestly, it’s me apologizing, too. I was just startled the other day and there was a lot going on. I hadn’t ever really thought about what I’d do if I met an Avenger, least of all if it happened while they were saving my life. I was overwhelmed; I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about yourself or anything.” Without really thinking about it, your hand moved to rest on top of his. It was a surprise to Loki, but a welcome one. “Because—and I can say this with absolute certainty—you’re amazing, Loki. You do so much for the city. I hope you know how appreciated you are, at least by me.”

His other large hand came to cover yours. “Thank you, darling.” He didn’t mean to say the pet name, but it just slipped out. “I cannot express how much that means to me.”

Somewhere in his heart, he wanted to tell you everything, make you privy to all his inner turmoil. But that was buried underneath years of pain and rejection, too heavy to move for someone he didn’t know all too well, no matter how connected he felt to you in this moment. So he let the urge pass over him, hoping his thanks would be sufficient enough in expressing how he felt.

“You’re welcome, Loki,” you told him, squeezing his hand. Then you stood up. “So, I guess I’ll be letting you get on with your day then. This was really nice, though. Thanks for agreeing to it.”

“You’re welcome and thank you,” he replied. “It really was.”

After waving goodbye to each other, you exited and Loki stayed where he was, picking at the last few nubs of fries left in the basket. He didn’t know exactly why he didn’t leave, too. Just that something was missing.

“Ah, young love,” the elderly waitress who had been serving you all day said to Loki as she came to collect the empty dishes. “Magical, isn’t it?”

“Love?” Loki choked out. “I am afraid you are quite mistaken. It was not even a date. I hardly even know them. I will probably never even see them again.”

“And you’re just gonna let them walk out?” she tsked. “It’s a right shame, sonny. Let me tell you, you don’t just let something like that walk out on ya.”

He looked at the door for a second in melancholic contemplation before bolting out after you. He shouted his thanks to the waitress as he pushed open the glass door, exiting out into the harsh sunlight. As his eyes adjusted, they scanned for your form before it walked out of his life forever. Spotting you, he jogged in your direction and called your name. Funny, he thought, how just earlier that day the roles had been reversed.

“Loki?” you asked, stopped on the sidewalk as he caught up to you. “Are you ok? Did something happen?”

“Actually, the problem is what did not happen.” He kicked a rock with his shoe, as suddenly the ground became very interesting to him. His insides were a nervous mess. Clearing his throat, he gathered his courage to continue. “See, I do not have any way of contacting you again. And it had been my sincere hope that you would want to do this again, let me take you out somewhere.”

“That sounds amazing,” you agreed, jotting down your number on an old receipt you’d found in your wallet. Smirking, you parroted back his words from earlier. “How about you take me for a five course meal in London?”

“Oh, so you have turned my own jokes against me. How very clever of you,” he laughed. “What if we just went to see a movie, instead?”

“Perfect,” you nodded. “Just text me a time and place, and I’ll see you then.”

“I look forward to it. As soon as I buy the tickets, I shall let you know.”

“Sounds awesome! It’s a date.”

As you parted ways, for real this time, it registered in Loki’s mind what you’d said. He hadn’t particularly been thinking about his phrasing or in what way he was asking you to hang out. But apparently you’d taken it as an invitation for a date. As Loki arrived back at the Tower and flopped onto his bed, already dreaming of your laugh, he found he was quite happy that you had.

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nyxdelanuit · 4 years

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Feral (Tendou x F! Reader)

Hey! Here’s Nyx being super late with a collab fic for the Haikyuu Headquarters Collab, which can be found here!

Special shout outs to @the-great-queen and @fallingintoimagination for getting me hooked on Feral Tendy <3 and @mammonrights for bein a heathen with me.

Warnings: Biting, Marking, Slight breeding kink cause it’s me, A lil bit of predator/prey play, and NSFW abound~

You quite enjoyed the calm, lazy weekends where you curled up with a book or movie, ignoring the outside world and the coming work week. The same couldn’t be said for your friend, currently draped over your lap, whining.

"I'm so bored, let's do something fun." Tendou looked up at you with pleading eyes as you kept watching your show. You were only a few episodes out from the season finale, and you weren't too keen on stopping now.

"I am having fun, Sa-to-ri." You grinned, glancing down at him, "It's not my fault you don't have any taste." He pouted at you, the teasing something that had thrived in your friendship.

“It’s not my fault I’ve already read the whole series before the show started. I could tell you what happens if you want.” Your attention turned fully to him, what he wanted all along.

"You wouldn't dare, Tendou." You tried to keep your gaze hard on him, despite the growing grin on his face.

“Ooh, pulling out the last name, that hurts.” He put a mocking hand over his chest. “And I wouldn’t have to ruin the whole series for you if you just entertained me a little.” You huffed, pausing the show and giving him an unamused glare.

"Fine, and what do you want to do exactly?" He sat up, leaning in close to you. You could feel the heat of your face at his nearness but kept up your mask. It wasn't new for you and Tendou to flirt like this, but it never failed to excite you.

“Would you believe me if I said you?” The coy grin he wore made you roll your eyes.

“No.” You turned your face away, trying to calm your desperate heartbeat before you gave him more ammunition to tease you. His calloused fingers slid under your chin, bringing your face back to his gaze.

"I think you're lying… you want it, don't you?" You bit your tongue softly, trying to weigh your options. Tendou would notice right away if you lied, and you wouldn't dare tell him the truth, that you had been dreaming of the day he'd finally make a real move.

It seemed Tendou was especially impatient that day, pressing a light kiss to your lips before retreating, hopping off your couch to stretch. “Let’s play tag.”

You were snapped out of your stupor at the kiss by his words, wondering if you had possibly imagined it. "W-what?" His eyes drifted to yours with a predatory smile.

“Tag. If you can keep away from me for… hmm… fifteen minutes, you win. We keep watching your show, no more complaints from me.” You furrowed your brows.

“Satori, we’re not kids anymore. I figured you’d want to go out to a club or something, why tag?”

“Cause it’s fun. Live a little, play tag with me.” He shrugged and held out a hand, which you reluctantly took, pulling you to your feet.

“Fine, and what happens if I lose?” His eyes glittered with a curious mischievousness, and you were almost tempted to pull your hand away.

"I'll think of something. Now for the rules. No leaving the house, no locking doors. I'll give you a 30-second head start. You can hide if you really want to." His grin only grew as he spoke, showing his excitement for your little game. You rolled your eyes again, ignoring the spark of adrenaline that ran through your veins. "Sound good to you?"

"Yeah, sure, Satori."

"Then… Run." The look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but wonder if this was how a rabbit felt staring into the eyes of a wolf. Once he started counting, you were pulled from your frozen state, turning and bolting down the hallway. You could still hear him, his singing echoing through your house as he counted down the seconds to his hunt. With no more than a handful of seconds left, you crept into the ancient wardrobe in your room, thankful you hadn't had the time to fill it properly. You bit at your lip, trying to get the door to close from the inside was harder than you expected.

Your breath hitched as you heard his footsteps, far too close for you to fiddle with the door anymore. You pressed yourself into the dark of the wardrobe, hoping it was enough to conceal you as his shadow snuffed out what remained of the light.

Your hands flew to your mouth, holding in your breath along with the whine that threatened to escaped as he paused in front of you.

“Come on out sweetness, maybe I’ll make your punishment something we’ll both enjoy?” His voice was deeper than usual, a darkness you’d only caught glimpses of before now on full display. You shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as you were, the heat pooling in your stomach as he lingered. Something about the tension, the anticipation of being found was a drug to you.

He slowly moved away, something you only noticed by the return of the light. You sat for several long moments, trying to hear past the blood rushing in your ears as you peeked through the door. The room in front of you was empty, and he could no longer be heard. If you wanted to run, now would be the time. Cautiously, you pushed open the door, creeping out one leg at a time until you released a shuddering breath, straightening your clothes.

"You should probably run now, little lamb." The voice made you jump, even more so the sight of Tendou, leaning against the door you had just open, a malicious grin splitting his face in two. You ran without any thought, slamming doors behind you as you tried and failed to remember your house's layout. Every step, every labored breath you took, you could hear him nearing. You could feel him hot on your heels, to the point where the doors were no longer falling closed behind you, merely bouncing off his extended arm, slamming against the wall.

You had made a mistake somewhere in your panic. A room with no other doors, no easy means of escape, just you and Tendou standing at separate sides of the room. All you could do was watch as he closed in, your heart jack-hammering against its cage. The only way out was around, to fake out the former Guess Monster of Shiratorizawa.

Breathe in, breathe out- glance to the side, opposite of where you were planning of going. Your mind was working faster than you thought possible, acting on the barest hint of thoughts as Tendou's hands neared you. You ducked, somehow slipping through the narrow escape between his arm and his body. Your lungs burned as you ran, the peals of laughter echoing throughout the halls as the hunt continued. How long could fifteen minutes be?

Each step, each ragged breath sent a fire through your veins. Maybe Tendou had the right idea, when was the last time you felt this alive? Slipping through doorways, skidding along tiled floors, nervous laughter seeping through your lips as his cackling rang in your ears. Faster, quicker, just seconds ahead of his hands, you ran. You couldn't hide, not anymore, all you could do was hope that you were faster than him until the clock ran out.

You somehow found yourself back where you started, the timer of his phone counting down the last seconds of your game. You had won, you knew it, just a few more seconds…

A shrill scream tore through your throat; you had let yourself get distracted. Calloused fingers wrapped around you, holding your arms tight to your chest as the alarm rang through the house. You had almost won… Tendou pulled you flush against his chest, every inch of him wrapped around you, pressed against your back.

“Too bad, little lamb.” He taunted, his lips brushing against your ear. “You were so close.” You hadn’t even noticed the whine that escaped you until you heard him chuckle, low and dark. “You stopped there near the end… did you want me to catch you that bad?” You shook your head, belatedly noticing how his hands sunk into the plush of your chest. “You can deny it to yourself all you want, but your body says differently. You haven’t even tried to slip away.” He moved his head to brush his lips against your neck, the barest brushes of skin. There was no fighting the shiver of pleasure that ran down your spine or the gasp that slipped past your lips.

You resisted even less when he turned you, pressing your chests together as his head dipped to kiss you hungrily. You opened to his whims easily, tongue and teeth clashing with no other thought than the hunger that burned deep in your stomach. When had your hands buried themselves in his? When had he stopped kissing you in favor of trailing bites down the length of your neck? It was happening so quickly, and yet it seemed as if this had been building up as long as you could remember. He devoured you, as he did so many other things. Headfirst into his passion with little regard to anything else as his rough hands slid under your shirt, quickly pulling it up and over your head. He barely pulled away to pull his own off by the collar, whipping it to the abyss that existed outside of you and him.

Throughout the house, he led you, a trail of clothes littering your path. He was nothing but a storm of lips and teeth, marking every inch of skin he could reach, claiming you as his prize. He hadn't even stripped you of your underwear, but the way he was grinding against you, laving his tongue over the deep imprints of his teeth had you writhing for release. Finally, a single finger dipped between you, dragging over your covered folds and feeling the dampness that made the fabric cling to your skin.

“Pretty little lamb, I’m going to destroy you.” He chuckled, his breath falling heavily against your neck. You nodded, already a whining mess.

“Please, Satori… I want you, please.” Was that your voice? You hardly recognized it, buried beneath all the lust and longing weighing down the tone.

He spoke mockingly as he slowly pulled the last scrap of fabric down your legs. “I knew you wanted me, little lamb… but I didn’t mind playing our little game to make you admit it. You opened your mouth to refute him, to say something in your defense, but the only thing that came out was a sinful moan as his teeth sunk into your thigh, marking you so close to where you wanted him.

Words failed you, lost in the haze that was Tendou Satori, and all you could do was pull him in closer, desperate to feel him inside of you. He fit against you so well, the feeling of his lips on yours was a drug like no other. You melted against his touch, conforming to his body as he hitched your leg high up on your hip. His touch on your hip was firm, holding you still as he teased at your entrance, watching your face with a sadistic smile.

Ever so slowly, he sunk in, his mouth open as he let the softest of groans escape him while he watched you writhe as you tried to push down further on his length. "You know, little lamb… I never said what I would take as my prize…" You attempted to clear your cloudy eyes, focusing on his gluttonous face.

"I thought this…" A sharp thrust, bottoming Tendou's length inside you brought your sentence to a breathy end, but you tried to continue on, "I thought I was your prize?"

“Hmm… but you gave yourself over to me without me even asking… I guess I’ll just have to cum in you as my prize.” It shouldn’t sound so appealing falling from his lips, but all you could do was keen out, desperate for him to take you in any and all ways he wanted. He won you fair and square.

“Please, Satori, whatever you want, just move!” His smile darkened, a calloused finger coming up to brush lightly against your cheek.

“How can I resist when you beg so nicely for it?” With that last word, his hands returned to your hips, holding on in a bruising grip as he pulled out slowly, watching the tears gather on your lashes as you pleaded for him to move faster. As soon as the tip traced your entrance, something in him snapped. He bucked into you wildly, pulling a loud moan from your lungs.

Gone was your lazy, teasing friend that you spent calm Sundays with, replaced with a hungry animal, intent on devouring you from the inside out. Each roll of his hips pushed you further from your thoughts, focusing only on the carnal way he hunched over you, sucking deep marks into your skin to remind you long after this was over of what he turned you into. Just a mewling, desperate mess, falling apart underneath him, pliant to his every touch. And touch he did, imprints of his hands seemed to be carved into your hips, the ghost of his teeth in every bite he laid on your skin still stinging, only heightening the pleasure of his cock pistoning within you.

The pleasure became overwhelming, and you dug your nails into his shoulder, desperate for anything to ground yourself in this moment. It only spurred him on further, a deep growl rumbling in his chest as you marked him in kind. Some small stake that showed you weren't just a passive participant in his game. You pulled him close with the grip you held on his shoulders, panting heavily on his shoulder before you bit into his neck, mirroring one of the many marks he had left on you. The whine you pulled from his throat only made you moan against his skin as he pushed your legs higher, trying to find a better angle to sink into you as you savagely attacked his neck.

You only pulled away when you felt the peak growing impossibly close, a breathy moan of his name bringing him back to himself.

“Please, Satori, I’m so close.” You let the tears spill from your lashes, twin rivers framing your face as you stared up at him, pleading. “Fill me up, please.” He groaned lowly, pulling back just enough to sneak a hand between your bodies. Those stupid, calloused fingers you had grown to appreciate so quickly deftly found your clit, sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and he relentlessly assaulted the swollen nub. You felt him start to twitch inside you as you tensed, finally cresting in pleasure.

He was thrown violently into his orgasm as you cried out his name, clenching your fists around his shoulders once more. Each thrust as he worked through his release brought you closer to over-stimulation, the added friction on the edge of pain as he filled you.

The house was finally quiet, the only sound coming from your intermingling breaths, heavy and satisfied. He collapsed next to you, content to relax against your pillows as you processed all that had just happened. When you remained silent, he turned his eyes to you with a grin. “We can go watch that show now.”

You couldn’t stop the nervous giggle that escaped you. “After all that, you want to go watch that show?” He nodded, smirking.

"Yeah, why not?" He sat up, stretching out his shoulders, and giving you a good view of the angry red lines you had left all over him.

“So… do we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

"I don't know what you mean, I thought I made it pretty clear." You wished you could see his face as he got up for even a hint of how he felt.

“What do you mean, Satori?”

“I won you.” He sung, “I marked you inside and out. You’re mine now.” He turned with a mischievous grin, and you wouldn’t be surprised if this was the outcome he wanted when he walked through your door this morning. Still, you stood, walking over to him and running a hand down his chest.

“You did, didn’t you?” With your confirmation, his grin softened to a more sincere smile, ducking to place a kiss to your cheek.

“So, time for your show, little lamb?”

#tendou x reader #tendou satori x reader #haikyuu smut #Haikyuu hq collab #nyx writes

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kenbunshokus · 3 years

Text

eggnemies to lovers

nami/vivi, zoro/sanji | 7k words (best viewed on: ao3)

My (20F) Date (21M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Baratie. submitted 6 months ago by u/throwawaypinwheel

(Or, the one where Sanji is a diner cook, Vivi is their waitress, and Zoro and Nami accidentally became each other’s wingman.)

Zoro glares at his plate as if his omelette has just challenged him to a duel. Nami tries her best to focus on the map she’s working on—this one’s a particularly difficult homework from her Intro to Coastal Navigation class—and pointedly does not look up.

“Holy shit,” Zoro mutters under his breath, poking at the offending egg, “Nami, I swear—”

“We are not having this conversation again—”

“I told you,” Zoro plows on, “that fucking cook is doing this on purpose.”

Nami takes a deep breath. Cartography is a delicate art, and Nami aims to be a professional. She takes her favorite pencil and elegantly traces over the coastline of Cocoyashi Village, poised and collected and calm. She’s not going to take the bait and ruin her map, no matter how much Zoro is sulking over an egg—

She sighs. “Zoro, I’m pretty sure there’s just been some mix-up with the orders.”

Zoro huffs at that, clearly disbelieving. “For the third time this week?”

“This isn’t exactly a five-star establishment,” she points out, and adds, reasonably, calmly, in an attempt to find some semblance of peace, “I doubt the cook of some no-name diner even knows your name.”

The words seem to have brought about the opposite effect, because now there’s a dangerous glint in Zoro’s eyes as he mutters, “well, he’s about to find out,” before standing up and shamelessly yelling, “ OI! COOK! ”

Nami drives the pencil through her map.

r/relationship_advice

My (20F) Date (21M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Baratie. submitted 6 months ago by u/throwawaypinwheel

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My (20F) Date (21M) keeps getting into fights with a cook at Baratie.

submitted 6 months ago by /u/throwawaypinwheel

I know this sounds really weird, but here it is:

This guy and I have been on a couple of dates. We’d been friends long before we started trying this going out thing, so he isn’t a total stranger to me, and I’ve long known him as a pretty calm guy. Chimes in once a week in the group chat, grunts a lot during conversations, you know — one of those quiet, meditating types. He’s only competitive when it comes to his favorite sport (he’s a professional kendo athlete), but other than that he tends not to care about what other people think about him. I’ve never seen him respond to anyone’s taunts or getting worked up by a stranger’s words.

Except at Baratie.

Any time we’re out he wants to go to this diner called Baratie down in Grand Line. I don’t really care about the food, but the tables there are big enough for me to do work (Maritime Science major here—lots of stationeries and large maps to work with). But that became impossible once he and this one cook started chirping at each other every time we went there. Date complained about his eggs one time, because he likes them a little runny and they were served hard. The cook responded by giving him scrambled eggs. When he brought it up again, the cook served him two hardboiled eggs. It was kind of funny to be honest, but my date wasn’t able to laugh it off. When we left, he was in a bad mood.

This is the crazy part: he keeps going back.

In fact, he keeps going back and ordering eggs and getting into fistfights with the same cook. It’s almost a ritual at this point. He orders runny eggs, the cook serves him some other version of eggs, and then they beat the shit out of each other. We never eat out at any other places now; it’s just Baratie every fucking week. Sometimes he even goes there without me.

I’ve tried to talk to him about it a few times, but he keeps saying it’s a matter of principle. I’ve told him to just talk to the manager, but he just waved me off. Apparently that cook hasn’t yet made him the correct runny eggs, but it’s like he spends the week learning new ways of preparing eggs to piss my date off.

My question is — this is weird, right? Like, I’m not really concerned about the fighting part — he’s never been physical with me and I never once felt threatened by him — but what’s with the obsession ? They’re just eggs, aren’t they?

Is this indicative of something deeper? Should I reconsider going exclusive with this guy?

When Nami looks up from her map this time, Zoro has already stalked off to the kitchen. This isn’t new or remarkable in any way, except the fact that he almost ran into one of the waitresses, who immediately clutched her tray against her chest and watched his retreating back warily.

Zoro didn’t even spare her a glance. What a brute. Nami’s going to add to his debt later for that.

“Hey,” Nami calls out towards the waitress, waving at her to come by her table, “I’m sorry, uh…”

“Vivi,” the waitress fills in with a polite smile.

“Right, Vivi—I’m Nami,” Nami replies, finding herself nervous all of a sudden, because up close like this, holy fuck is the waitress so pretty, with long blue hair and silver-sharp eyes. Nami clears her throat. “Uh, I just want to say sorry about his—his whole deal with your Cook. Zoro—that’s his name—he’s usually really chill, so I don’t know what’s happening here.”

Vivi thankfully chuckles at that, seemingly finding the situation more hilarious than threatening. Good. There’s also something about that laughter that makes Nami feel like she’s fourteen again, full of butterflies and all too small for everything, but she tries not to think too hard about that yet.

“In your friend’s defense,” Vivi says, “Sanji is usually really good with memorizing orders, so he’s totally messing with your friend on purpose.”

As if on cue, the cook’s voice—Sanji’s—rings out from the kitchen. “YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE HERE, MOSSHEAD, I TOLD YOU THE KITCHEN’S OFF LIMITS FOR CUSTOMERS —”

Nami finds herself laughing with Vivi. “You know, it’s actually impressive that Zoro doesn’t get lost on his way to the kitchen anymore.”

Vivi raises her eyebrow. “Nami, the kitchen door is right there.”

“It’s Zoro,” Nami presses, because it’s always fun to see strangers learn about Zoro’s disastrous relationship with directions and maps for the first time. “One time, during our junior high sports festival, he got lost on the running track. For a hundred-meter race .”

That earns her another laugh from Vivi as she takes a seat beside Nami, body leaning forward in curiosity, “really? Is he short-sighted or something? Can’t he just—I don’t know, literally see the finish line?”

“Here’s the thing you need to know about Zoro,” Nami begins, and watching the way Vivi’s soft hair falls over the slope of her shoulder, bright blue and blinding despite the dim lighting of the diner, Nami somehow can’t find it in herself to be mad at Zoro anymore.

u/salveshine • 492 points 6 months ago

This seems like an obvious question, but I have to ask: have you considered going somewhere else for your dates? Most people don’t go to a diner for dates in the first place.

/u/throwawaypinwheel • 23 points 6 months ago

Well, as I said on the original post, it’s downright an obsession at this point. Asking him to go somewhere else doesn’t solve the problem since he’d just go there on his own on a different day.

Also, the waitress there is nice. She’s been keeping me company throughout this whole thing. She’s a godsend.

Vivi appears by her table as soon as Zoro disappears into the kitchen.

“Again?” Vivi asks by way of greeting.

“Again,” Nami agrees, scooting to the side of her bench to give Vivi space to sit. “It’s eggs benedict this time. Perfectly poached. I went to this fancy restaurant a few weeks ago, and they didn’t even make it this good.”

Somewhere from what presumably is the kitchen, Zoro’s frustrated voice echoes throughout the whole diner. “Now you’re not even serving me eggs anymore!”

“What are you—“ there is a moment of stunned silence before Sanji‘s reply comes, equally loud, dripped with utter disbelief. “Are you fucking serious? You thought this wasn’t made of—you’ve never seen scotch eggs before?”

“SHUT UP,” Zoro yells back.

Nami cranes her neck out of instinct, wishing to catch a glimpse of the scene from the window behind the counter—she’s never heard Zoro sounding so flustered before—but Vivi’s voice, small and low and far from the confident tone Nami has started to get used to, pulls her attention back.

“I’m sorry.”

It takes another moment before the words fully register in her brain. “Wh—for what?”

“I mean,” Vivi says, twiddling with her fingers as she mumbles, “this is supposed to be your date.”

“My date?” The question already falls out of her mouth before she realizes, oh. Oh. This is supposed to be a date, because her and Zoro are…well. Sometimes she doesn’t even remember that part—they’re certainly not acting the part, considering they’re hanging out with other people during these ‘dates’. Nami understands, rationally, that she should be mad about this; and yet— “It’s fine. I’m not that bothered.”

Vivi blinks. “You’re not?”

“Nah,” Nami says, waving her hand dismissively, feeling as surprised as Vivi looks. “Well, when it comes down to it, it’s still free food, you know? Could’ve been better—no offense, but a family diner isn’t exactly date material—but considering the menu and ingredients you guys have to work with? Sanji’s practically been making feasts fit for royalty here.”

“Well, I still think you deserve to be treated better during a date,” Vivi crosses her arms and—is that a pout on her face? “Don’t you feel a bit lonely?”

“No?” Nami replies, taken aback. That’s literally the furthest thing on her mind, because— “I have you, don’t I?”

Nami feels her face heat up as soon as the words left her mouth, because that sounded way more presumptuous than she intended. She meant to say, I have you to keep me company , like a friend , in a totally friend platonic way. Except they were talking about dates in a decidedly very romantic way and she should totally take it back—

Vivi beams at that, the kind that makes her look like she’s glowing inside her skin, and never mind, Nami’s not taking it back. Nope. She’s never taking it back even if someone’s paying her a million berries to take it back.

Vivi takes Nami’s hand from the table and holds it in both of her own, and Nami’s heart trips in her chest.

“Yeah,” Vivi says, the words sending a low hum under Nami’s ribcage. “Yeah, you have me.”

/u/mettlemental • 301 points 5 months ago

This is their ritual. Do not interfere.

/u/throwawaypinwheel • 279 points 5 months ago

You know what, I think you have a point. This thing between me and the waitress is also a ritual now, so we’re even.

“Shishishi!” Luffy laughs, eyes practically sparkling. “Sanji is so cool!”

“No he’s not!” Zoro pinches Luffy by the cheek to try to drag him away from Sanji. “I brought you here to defend me!”

“But Sanji’s the one making me delicious meat right now,” Luffy pouts, seemingly unperturbed by the potential disfigurement of his own face, gaze still rooted on Sanji—or, more specifically, the food Sanji is carrying on a tray. “What can you make, Zoro?”

Sanji lights up his cigarette, expression hidden behind his hands, but his whole body visibly puffs up like a peacock. Nami notices how the tips of his ears have turned red. “Finally, someone with taste.”

Zoro tries to grab the tray away from Sanji’s hand, and Nami watches Vivi masterfully maneuver between the messy cacophony of the trio, placing a tall stack of waffles in front of Chopper.

“This doesn’t make me happy at all!” Chopper says, his words nowhere near convincing, considering he’s saying it with the largest grin Nami has ever seen on a fourteen-year-old. “Did Sanji make this one, too?”

“He did,” Vivi says as she takes a seat beside Nami, as she always does. The table settles into a comfortable silence as Chopper digs into his waffles and Vivi absentmindedly plays with the salt shaker, observing the idiot trio from a distance.

“They sure get along fast,” Nami says as she takes out her cartography tools, and Vivi’s gaze sweeps between Luffy, Chopper, and the maps on the table.

“You’re not even trying to have a date anymore, aren’t you,” she points out.

“Nope,” Nami agrees, gesturing to Chopper with her pencil. “Chopper here wanted to try the waffle for a long time ever since I told him all about Sanji.”

“Please tell Sanji I love it!” Chopper adds around a mouthful of sugar.

“And Luffy’s been really curious about you two anyways.”

One table away, Luffy took the last bite of whatever meal Sanji just served, and dramatically announces, “this one’s better than the last one!”

“You always say that after every plate,” Sanji mumbles, but shoves another plate towards the kid anyways, clearly preening from the praises.

“It wasn’t even that good,” Zoro adds desperately, and scowls when Sanji chooses to watch Luffy eat another serving with the same gusto like he did the first one. “Oi—don’t ignore me, Shit Cook!”

It’s...fascinating. Nami never had a habit of watching Zoro—those activities are reserved for those fangirls in their university who barely know him—but she finds herself unable to look away whenever they’re at the Baratie. Whenever he’s with Sanji, to be precise. The chef seems to have brought out so many different sides of Zoro she’s never seen before in all the years she’s known him, and that’s saying a lot, considering she’s known Zoro for a decade.

Zoro has always been a steady presence in her and Luffy’s life ever since he moved into their neighborhood when she was shy of turning ten; he is strong-willed and loyal and eternally dependable, like a safe place they can always come back to. He can be a little hard to read, quiet and reserved as he is, but these days Nami knows where to look, the telltales hidden in the way he straightens his back and carries himself.

But with Sanji, Zoro is—he’s all those things still, sure. But he’s also— so much more. There’s suddenly this— kid, lively and boyish and so, so easy to read. Open book, heart on his sleeve. He grins and yells and throws his punches, and Sanji would take them in stride and return them as easily. This Zoro pouts when Sanji doesn’t pay him attention, and scowls when he does; and when Sanji makes him laugh, it’s a loud, open thing.

Sometimes it feels as if the Zoro she knew was an impostor all along. As if there was a pale imitation of Roronoa Zoro with a ghost of a smile, and he’d only come alive in the middle of a fucking diner.

And the worst part of it all is—

“You two?” Vivi suddenly mumbles, seemingly to herself.

Nami tilts her head. “Yeah?”

“You were saying something about Luffy being curious about… us two ,” Vivi says. There’s an odd, pensive look on her face. “Are you talking about Sanji and…”

“You, of course!” Nami cuts in, perplexed.

“You told your friends about me?” Vivi wonders, and it’s baffling. Of course Nami told her friends about Vivi. Sometimes Nami thinks Vivi is all she could talk about. She’s hilarious and smart and a thousand times more interesting to talk about than Sanji and Zoro combined.

That’s a really weird thing to suddenly spring on someone though, so Nami instead says, “Vivi, you’re the best thing about these weekly visits, because that sure as hell isn’t.”

She’s pointing at the dumbass trio; somewhere along the way, Luffy has seemed to fall asleep, and Sanji is smiling at the boy’s sleeping form, looking very pleased with himself. Zoro is fuming behind him, arms crossed and chest puffed, like a child being forced to share his favorite toy.

Vivi laughs at the sight, shaking her head. “Well, boys will be boys.”

The words bury itself uncomfortably in the pit of Nami’s stomach.

Boys will be boys—which is why sometimes (oftentimes, many times, always) Nami thinks she’s much more easily enamored with girls. Nami supposes there is a certain charm in Zoro’s brutish ways, but she’s beginning to learn that it may not be for her—Nami appreciates people who can hold their own in a fistfight, but there is also strength in reigning yourself in despite the circumstances, the way she’s seen Vivi handle difficult customers with a firm tone, graceful and dangerous at the same time.

(What could this mean, then? For her, for them—)

Zoro and Sanji have started fighting animatedly again. Roronoa Zoro, his heart on his sleeve.

And the worst part is that Nami doesn’t even care.

/u/sorcatarius • 334 points 4 months ago

I usually appreciate it when OP updates their posts with recent developments because I’m one of those people who get easily invested in a stranger’s life story, but is it just me or do all of these updates seem irrelevant? Most of them are about the waitress. I feel like I’m learning nothing about the actual date here. Who’s dating who again?

/u/NeonRain15• 137 points 4 months ago

OP is clearly a troll lol.

They are sitting at a corner table in front of the door to the kitchen, because Franky and Robin aren’t even pretending they’re here for the food instead of a show. Usopp told them he would rather ‘see where the danger is coming from ’, but Nami suspects the real reason is something closer to morbid curiosity.

Nami doesn’t fault them. It certainly is hard to look away from what those two clowns are currently doing: Zoro is waving a spatula and a frying pan like he would his kendo swords, clearly breaking several kitchen-related OSHA rules in the process; Sanji puts out his cigarette against the counter—seriously, has nobody here heard of proper kitchen etiquette—and swings his leg in a drop kick.

There’s a loud CLANK as his shoe comes into contact with the pan.

Franky whistles. “That’s super awesome, bro!” He cheers, before turning back to the table with a lower voice, “Seriously, how have they not fired Sanji-bro already?”

“Other than the fact that he’s overqualified as hell?” Usopp asks in between spoonfuls of Sanji’s fried rice.

“Well, they do provide a wonderful source of entertainment for us customers,” Robin observes.

“Sure thing,” Franky replies, “but they’re totally destroying kitchen appliances right now, I mean, look at that roller. There’s no way any normal wood could withstand that —there it goes.”

“Let them be—what’s the worst that could happen?” Robin muses. “Other than a kitchen accident that leads to a gas explosion and the restaurant burning down to the ground, obliterating all of us in the process, of course.”

“Robin,” Usopp squeaks.

Inside the kitchen, the tables have turned—Sanji has somehow regained possession of his kitchen appliances, and he’s now teaching Zoro how to cook. They’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, heads bent over the stove, and Sanji would occasionally wrap his hand around Zoro’s wrist to instruct him.

Zoro looks like he’s going to spontaneously combust. His eyes are darting between Sanji’s hands (still lightly gripping Zoro’s wrist), Sanji’s face (dangerously close to Zoro’s own), and Sanji’s lips (there’s something there, something he wants to do and Nami knows if she thinks hard enough she can put a name on it) —anywhere but the food they’re actually cooking. Zoro’s own face is now redder than the tomatoes lining up the kitchen counter.

Heart on his sleeve, Nami thinks. Open book, open book.

“I’m going to get some refills,” she announces, suddenly feeling like she’s intruding on something private and practically leaps towards the soda station. She could feel a pair of curious eyes on her back—Robin’s, no doubt—but she’s more distracted by another presence currently standing beside her.

“Hey,” Vivi says, voice light, teasing. She’s carrying a lot of cups on her, presumably the others’, and she bumps her shoulder against Nami’s playfully. Nami could feel the touch fizzle against her skin.

“Hey,” Nami replies, trying to pretend that the close proximity doesn’t bother her at all. “‘Sup?”

Vivi wordlessly helps her with the drinks, and they easily fall into comfortable silence, filling cups after cups, until Vivi nudges her again. “You know, Usopp was right about Sanji being overqualified.”

Nami fills Franky’s cup slower, wondering where the conversation is going. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know, I have a secret,” Vivi says, tone playful, but when Nami looks up there’s something in her eyes. “Actually, I own this place.”

Nami stops filling the cup. “What?”

“I mean, it’s mostly on loan, and I’m not halfway done with the payments, but technically, yeah,” Vivi says, tucking her hair to the back of her ear in a nervous gesture. “I didn’t really want to tell anyone because it’s not like I wanted a special treatment from the patrons. And I am effectively a waitress here.”

Nami is suddenly reminded of all the instances when she called Baratie a no-name diner right to Vivi’s face, and feels her stomach sink. Holy shit, she called it a dumpster fire just last week.

Vivi must have noticed Nami’s mental breakdown, because she quickly waves her hand and laughs. “No, no, don’t worry about it—I know we’re still a work in progress. Especially ever since—”

Vivi trails off at that, suddenly looking unsure. She starts collecting all the cups, like she’s giving Nami a reason to back out of the conversation. “It’s kind of a boring life story, actually, I’m sorry for dumping that all to you out of the blue—”

“Vivi,” Nami says, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t usually do this; she knows, better than most, how heavy one’s past could be, and she hates it when people try to pry into hers. But Vivi is looking at her with sad eyes and unsteady hands, and suddenly Nami wants nothing other than to tell her, “I’ll drop this if you don’t want to talk about it, but remember this: I will always want to know more about you.”

She places her hand on Vivi's arm, for emphasis. “I will always want to support you.”

It takes a moment before her words sink in, and Nami could see the moment it does, Vivi’s eyes widening in surprise as her face breaks into a slow-starting smile. “Thank you, Nami,” she whispers, and it’s almost reverent.

Nami’s gaze falls onto Vivi’s lips, and suddenly it’s become very difficult to maintain a conversation.

She wonders how she’d look now, to an outsider. Flushed face and a stupid smile on her face, hands fidgeting with her own hair. Open book, open book . Could they hear, she wonders, the way her heart is hammering against her ribcage—would they find out—

Robin claps her hands together, snapping Nami out of her reverie. The whole group is already standing by the door, waiting for her, and god, how long have they been talking by the soda station again?

“Perhaps we can take the drinks another day. Time to go home, don’t you think?” Robin suggests. Her tone is light, but her gaze is heavy, and Nami has to resist the urge to curl into herself.

Zoro still stares at the kitchen, oblivious to the tension. “Yeah,” he says, almost in a daze. “ Shit — yeah.”

Shit, indeed.

/u/Lanzifer• 975 points 5 months ago

This is a love story.

/u/nashdezus • 307 points 3 months ago

I hate to break it to you but I think your boyfriend is in love with the cook. If this is fake you have written one of the greatest gay romances of this generation, if this isn’t fake I dunno what.

/u/ParkNight • 399 points 3 months ago

Your BF needs to cut to the chase and invite the cook over to your place for some eggs and rough sex.

/u/Cod3Man • 760 points 4 months ago

He has a crush on the cook & vice versa but they’re both living a lie so they fight because it’s the only way to release the sexual tension. Every different way of cooking an egg represents a different sex act.

/u/jakubada • 523 points 3 months ago

Girl, not to wish ill will on your relationship, but you should bang that waitress instead.

“Have you ever heard of Baroque Works?”

Nami pauses. She places her pencil away, knowing that Vivi deserves nothing less than her full attention.

It’s only been a couple of days since the conversation she had with Vivi, but Nami can’t get her mind off of it. She’s been coming to Baratie every single day now after college, and it’s just so convenient that Zoro suddenly refuses to go. It’s simply harder to have Vivi open up when someone else is around, and not because there are other reasons. Like wanting Vivi all to herself. No sire.

She shakes herself out of the dangerous train of thoughts. “Baroque Works? Isn’t that the new restaurant chain down the block? It’s the one that’s taken over that other chain, right? Uh, what was it called—”

“Alabasta,” Vivi supplies, before sighing. “That’s the chain my family used to own.”

Nami blinks. “Wait, you used to own Alabasta?”

Running a diner on her own at her age is already an impressive feat in and of itself, but Alabasta is a whole different beast. It’s a nation-wide chain with dozens of restaurants, and owning the chain is probably equivalent to owning a small empire.

“Oh, no, I mean, my family did,” Vivi quickly adds, ever humble. “It’s not exactly anything impressive. My grandfather ran the business before my father did, and his father was the one who started it—it was passed down the generations, and I was simply born into it.

“As you said, Alabasta went down a few years ago because my father struck a bad deal with a ruthless businessman. It is clear now, in hindsight, that Crocodile was tricking us, but we were naive and perhaps a little too eager to expand. Baroque Works took over, and we were left with the only branch they deemed the least profitable—here.”

“And you renamed it to Baratie?”

“That was Sanji’s idea,” she says, a small smile playing on her lips; it is clearly a much fonder memory than what that businessman—Crocodile—did to her and her family. “At the time, Sanji just moved to Grand Line. His father had a restaurant back in East Blue with the same name, and he told me he would help me build everything back from the ground up. We would borrow the name, acting like we’re a branch of Baratie, and I can rename it back to Alabasta once I can settle all the legalities with Baroque Works.”

Everything slowly falls into place now—the way Sanji is clearly trained to cook dishes much more sophisticated than waffles and scrambled eggs, the freedom he gets to be able to mess around with Zoro, and his close camaraderie with Vivi.

Nami feels a pang of—god, jealousy, if she dares to put a name on it—towards Sanji; for being able to stand by Vivi’s side when she needed it the most. It’s silly, because Sanji has always been kind to her, and it’s not like it was Sanji’s fault that Nami didn’t know Vivi until recently, but the feeling gripped her like a vice anyway, heavy and suffocating.

Vivi seems to have taken her silence wrongly, though, because she looks away, almost shamefully. “You must think this is all stupid.”

“Of course not,” Nami immediately retorts without missing a beat. She thinks of Bellemere, holding her head high despite the judgments from the neighbors. She was alone and penniless, countless doors slammed close in her face just because she was a single mother; but none of that stopped Bellemere from sending Nojiko and Nami to the best school in the neighborhood

So Nami tells Vivi what she has always wanted to tell Bellemere, and what she knows to be true of Vivi, of any women in her life who has never backed down from adversity— “You’re amazing.”

Vivi blinks, cheeks coloring at the words. It takes her a moment before she can reply with a shaky, “Yeah?”

“Yeah? Vivi, you’re—” Nami turns her body to face Vivi fully, grabbing her by the arms, “—you’re the strongest, most hard-working person I’ve ever known. Most people in your shes would’ve turned tails and run.”

Vivi flushes further. It’s the first time Nami has seen her flustered, really cute, actually. And the fact that Nami is the one who put that expression on her face —

“Are we intruding on something?”

Nami almost jumps from her seat, suddenly feeling like she’s five again, getting caught with her hand halfway into the cookie jar. Vivi is scrambling to her feet from her side, cleaning imaginary dust from her uniform as she stammers, “no, of course not! I’m sorry, sir—sirs , can I take your order?”

Nami looks up to see Jinbe laugh and wave at her, signaling her to calm down. Brook is standing right behind him, giving Nami a small wave. “What do you serve?”

Nami tries to return to her map as Vivi starts rattling off the menu, but Brook—wise, old Brook, with his soft voice and observing eyes, goes, “No Zoro this time around, hm?”

Her pen stills. There’s nothing accusatory in Brook’s voice—he would never, none of their friends would never. But she waits for Vivi to be off with their orders still before replying, arms crossed across her chest almost defensively. “What is it to you, old man?”

She realizes a little too late that it’s an awfully rude response, but Jinbe simply laughs. “Old men, aren’t we, Brook?”

“Certainly older than most,” Brook agrees, eyes shining in mirth, not offended the least. “Hopefully wiser, too.”

“Well, sometimes,” Jinbe says, turning to Nami, “old men like us have the fortune—or the misfortune, some may say—to have loved and lost.”

Nami isn’t quite sure where the conversation is going, but there’s grief carried by Jinbe’s voice, and what comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all long past, miss,” Jinbe dismisses, not unkindly. “More importantly, what I’m trying to ay is, you and Zoro might have been looking at the wrong places. Love, that is. But there is time to rectify this—isn’t that what you young people have? Time”

Nami sits still, stupefied.

She has the suspicion that Robin knows, but Robin has always had her ways. For Jinbe to notice? Jinbe, who would rather talk about his fishing trips than to gossip? How obvious has she been?

(Open book, the thought resurfaces, unbidden. Heart on her sleeve—)

“Though, Nami?” Brook suddenly says, snapping Nami out of her own reverie.

She suddenly realizes that it’s just the two of them on the table, Jinbe already wandering around after imparting her with some advices. She clears her throat, trying to get her bearings. “Yeah?”

“I have to disagree with our dear Jinbe, I must say. We have loved and lost, but,” he takes her hand and guides it to rest on her heart.

“To love,” Brook says, voice steady, sure as a day. “Is never a misfortune.”

r/AmITheAsshole

Realizing I am a lesbian while dating a guy. AITA? submitted 2 months ago by u/throwawaypinwheel

257 comments share save give award report

Realizing I am a lesbian while dating a guy. AITA?

submitted 2 months ago by /u/throwawaypinwheel

I’m a girl who has gone through a couple of dates with a dude, but I’m falling in love with another girl. Like, I’m having a gay crisis right now. I’m not actually cheating since we haven’t decided to be exclusive yet, but he’s also a childhood friend, so it makes me wonder if this is a dick move?

To make matters more complicated: my date? Friend? Sort of boyfriend? He seems to have fallen in love with someone else too, and it’s another guy, so he might be gay, too.

Yes, I know bisexuality exists. Can’t exactly speak about him but I think I’m not that, so it’s not like I can suck it up and date him instead. AITA?

[deleted] • 725 points 2 months ago

Aren’t you the OP of that one viral post from r/relationship_advice about the Baratie cook?

/u/throwawaypinwheel • 2324 points 2 months ago

Yes, and that’s relevant, how?

/u/alohci • -20 points 2 months ago

LOL you’re clearly a troll. This isn’t r/CreativeWriting, go write your romance novel somewhere else. I’m reporting you to the mods.

/u/cheesus32 • 1739 points 2 months ago

This is better than most shit on Netflix right now

/u/veloace • 1641 points 2 months ago

Communication is key, OP. Sexualities aside—which is a topic for another day—isn’t this essentially a case of the two of you wanting different things from the relationship?

Nami takes a deep breath and checks her phone for the time.

She sees the 1:00 displayed on the screen. Her appointment with Zoro is supposed to be on twelve thirty, which means she’ll have another 30 minutes as Zoro gets lost on the way to Baratie as usual. One hour was his record.

She takes another deep breath and sighs.

This is it. She’s going to tell Zoro the truth.

It’s rare for her, to be so nervous around Zoro, but in her defense, it’s not like there’s an easy way to say, “hey, sorry, this may come out of nowhere but I’m breaking things off between us. Apparently I’m a lesbian and I’m also in love with the waitress at the place where we’re supposed to be going on dates in. It’s not you, it’s me.”

...Nami really needs to work on her delivery.

Her heart stutters in her chest as the automatic door slides open and Zoro walks in with the grim determination of a soldier going into battle. Perhaps Zoro is more perceptive than she’s giving him credit for. She hopes so—it surely will make this whole sort of-break up easier for the both of them.

She has run her line over and over again in her head, but nothing has prepared her to see Zoro sit down across the table, bow down, and says, “I’m sory, but I don’t think this is working out for us.”

She blinks. Wait. Wait—“ You're breaking up with me?”

“Luffy thinks we’re having a fight because we’ve been acting weird around each other ever since we tried out this whole dating thing, and hell, Nami, he’s right—I’ve seen you less now,” Zoro plows on, oblivious to her shock. “And don’t get me wrong, you’re my best friend, and you’re still my best friend, and I want us back. The us that’s, you know, normal. Alsoimightbeinlovewiththecook .”

Oh.

That’s—oh.

Nami is pretty sure her mouth is hanging open stupidly now, but she can’t bring herself to care. “Holy shit,” she breathes, perplexed. “Reddit was right.”

Zoro finally looks up at that. “What’s red—” he seems to take in her expression for the first time since the conversation started, eyebrows furrowing. ‘Wait. You’re not mad?”

“Mad? No, Zoro, god—how could I be when you’re right?” She feels her body slumping into the chair, the weight she didn’t know she’d been carrying has suddenly been lifted. “We are terrible for each other. I have no idea what got us to agree to this.”

Zoro visibly relaxes. There’s amusement in his tone as he suggests, “the copious amount of alcohol?”

Right. They were in the middle of a drinking competition when the idea of a date came up. “You know what, in hindsight, it’s kind of crazy that we got this far with such a stupid idea.”

“I think I was running away,” Zoro admits, eyes unwittingly darting towards the kitchen. “I couldn’t—I had this thing, for the Cook, but I couldn’t bring myself to admit it. So I tried to make you an excuse for my cowardice.” He bows again. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, dummy, don’t—” she kicks him on the shin, forcing him to stop bowing. “Stop being all bushido on me. I wasn’t any better. I’m—in love with Vivi.”

It’s Zoro’s turn to look at her in surprise. “What, really?”

It’s comforting, in a way, that at least she isn’t so obvious that Zoro would notice. “Yeah. You’re probably too preoccupied with your pretty blond to notice, but I’ve been pretty smitten myself. And I guess I have you and your little crush to thank for dragging me here in the first place.”

Zoro blushes at that, and it’s cute—not in a way that makes her want to kiss him, but definitely in a way that makes her want to tease him until the end days. God, how did it take her so long to realize she never loved him that way?

“‘Dragging” you, huh?” Zoro seems to decide to hone in on that, probably because he could burn himself alive from embarrassment if he keeps talking about Sanji. “This place is that bad for a date?”

Nami throws her head back and laughs. “You’re the worst date ever, Zoro,” she says, in between peals of laughter. “But you’re the best wingman I’ve ever had.”

“Going on a date again this time?” Vivi asks.

Nami looks at her—really takes her in, her smooth long hair and bright smile and long eyelashes. Holy shit, she’s staring at her eyelashes. She is so fucking gay.

She clears her throat. Focus, Nami. “No, actually, uh, can we talk? Like, super serious.”

Vivi immediately straightens up at that. “Of course. Give me a moment."

She rushes towards the kitchen, probably to tell Sanji that she’ll be occupied for a moment; something pulls inside Nami’s chest at the sight, knowing that Vivi would drop everything to be by Nami’s side.

When Vivi reemerges from the kitchen, she’s no longer carrying the tray and the menu. She takes a seat beside Nami and takes her hand. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, kind of, uh,” here goes nothing. “Zoro and I broke up.”

Vivi’s free hand shot up to cover her mouth in surprise. “Oh my god, Nami, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be,” she rushes to clarify, before Vivi gets the wrong idea, “I did say we broke up, but that isn’t exactly right—I mean, we were never exclusive, Vivi. And I don’t think we were ever dating for real. Like, we’re gay.”

There’s a beat. “What?”

Okay, so Nami could have broken the news much more smoothly than that.

“Zoro and I, uh—I’m gay. And Zoro never exactly put a label, but I’m pretty sure he never even dreamed of banging a chick, and—” she squeezes Vivi’s hand. She isn’t sure she’s doing it for Vivi or herself. “I know this is a lot, but I just—I think we were just very comfortable with each other, and since we are man and woman, we somehow thought we should date. Which is dumb, looking back at it, but we’d never fallen in love before.”

She thinks of Vivi—beautiful, fierce, kind Vivi, who carries the world on her shoulders. Vivi, whose smile lights up the whole room. “We didn’t know how different it was going to be, when it’s the real thing.”

Somewhere behind them, she can hear something heavy hit the floor in the kitchen, which means Zoro must have confessed right about now and Sanji must have dropped something from the shock.

Well, at least Vivi hasn’t dropped anything yet.

“What I’m trying to say is,” she continues, finding newfound courage from the way Vivi looks at her—is that hope in her eyes? “Vivi, you’re the most wonderful, amazing person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and pretty but I like you more than just that.” She takes Vivi’s hand in both of hers now. “Would you go out with me?”

There’s a moment as her words seem to sink in, and Nami feels her blood run cold—what if she read this whole thing wrongly? What if Vivi was straight? What if she was just trying to help out a friend, being the nice person she is?

But then Vivi’s face splits into a smile, soft and golden-warm, the white light of the overhead fluorescence illuminating her almost ethereal-like. “Yes, Nami,” she says, lacing their fingers together, “I would love to go out with you. But only on one condition.”

“Anything,” Nami says without thinking, because it’s true.

Vivi grins, and there’s a teasing edge on her voice as she says, “If you’re asking me on a date in a diner, count me out.”

“Oh my god,” Nami says, finally, finally pulling Vivi in for a kiss, “never again.”

UPDATE: My (20F) Date (21M) has left me for a Baratie cook (21M)

submitted 3 days ago by /u/throwawaypinwheel

It’s fine though, I have a girlfriend (18F, beautiful, amazing, doesn’t get into fights with random cooks) now. Yes, it’s the waitress. Yes, you guys have told me so. I’d love to take the L, but I’m the one with a hot girlfriend here, so am I really losing in this scenario?

#namivivi #zosan #nami #roronoa zoro #sanji #nefertari vivi #one piece #my writing #//#vivi #zoro #op

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

Text

Hooked

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

ch. lxii - curiosity killed the cat

<< previous | masterlist | next >>

??? × reader, ateez × reader

A freshman hookup rekindled into something new. With an incentive, of course. But what would happen if your 'relationship' led you somewhere you never thought would happen to you ?

The three remaining boys, Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho rushed downstairs to see what the commotion was all about. Though they were nervous, they were also curious and they were not going to be the only ones left behind with the information.

But when they stepped onto the living area, they were confused at the sight upon them.

San and Wooyoung were nowhere to be found, Yeosang had a look of utter surprise which was a rare sight, a teary Jongho was standing next to Mingi who was fully crying, and in front of them was a person clad in a black hoodie and a pair of black sweats. The person's back was to the three so they didn't know who it was.

"What's wrong? What happened?" Hongjoong asked with all the strength he could muster. The others who stood in front of the person clad in black could only look at the leader but weren't able to utter a single word.

Slowly, the unknown person turned their body towards the three. All eyes widened and their breaths hitched, the sight before them was just too confusing to comprehend.

"What are you doing here?" Hongjoong asked.

"And who are you?" Yunho added.

The person took his hood off to reveal a man around their age, charming with a glint of playfulness as he smirked at them.

But before he could introduce himself, Mingi had beaten him to the punch, "this is (Y/N)'s cousin who also studied here," he said. The man nodded and grin widely, "Howdy, I'm Haknyeon," he then stuck his hand out for any of the three to shake, "Joo Haknyeon, pleased to meet your acquaintance,"

Before either one of the three could shake his hand, however, Mingi lunged forward to try and grab at Haknyeon's sweater. Luckily, Yeosang and Jongho managed to hold the larger guy back.

"Skip the pleasantries, Haknyeon, and tell them what you told us" he growled. Haknyeon only raised an eyebrow and smirked in amusement, "wow, (Y/N) was right when she said you're a ticking time bomb. No one is ever THAT happy, ever tried counselling, big guy?" he poked.

Then he turned around to the three still confused boys with a distraught expression, "It's about (Y/N)," he started.

"Oh God," Yunho yelped out, his hand immediately gripped onto the arm of the closest person which was Seonghwa.

"What about (Y/N)?" Seonghwa asked, voice cracking from nerves. Haknyeon looked like he didn't wanna talk, but the hopeful eyes in front of him struck something deep in him, "she... left," he said.

"Yeah, she left us, we know that," Yunho clarified, "no, she... LEFT left," Haknyeon stressed.

The boys behind Haknyeon let out choked out tears once again as the Hongjoong, Seonghwa, and Yunho felt like their world just shattered.

San and Wooyoung came back from the kitchen, San looking dishevelled and distraught as Wooyoung tailed after him, looking more or less the same but not worse.

"Tell me where she went," San demanded once he fully stood in front of Haknyeon. He was about to grab the stranger's hoodie in his hands but Wooyoung luckily prevented him.

Haknyeon took a step back from San to evade being grabbed, "can't do that, sorry, I promised her," he shrugged simply.

By this point, you could feel the tension in the room. The once sorrowful boys now had veins popping on their foreheads and they seemingly had their brains connected as they took a step towards Haknyeon together. The intruder was cornered in the middle of eight menacing men.

"See, Haknyeon, I told you sticking to the script would've been better,"

All nine heads snapped towards the direction of the kitchen where you stood, hands on your waist and your luggage and bag by your side.

Haknyeon grinned innocently and shrugged, "And where would the fun be there?" he joked, slipping himself from between the boys towards you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and grinned widely at the eight now-dumbstruck men, "If you guys haven't figured it out, I was kidding, (Y/N)'s perfectly fine and she's back, she just needs my help to slip in here as a distraction while she slipped from the back," he said proudly.

But the silence in the room was deafening. Neither one of the boys reacted whatsoever. If you look closely, you're sure that neither of them was even blinking.

Seeing and feeling the tension, Haknyeon cringed and pat your head softly, "yeesh, tough crowd. I'll let you handle them on your own," he said simply before leaving from the back door where you came.

When the door closed behind Haknyeon, you finally realized that you now have to face the consequence of your action.

Luckily, you didn't have to break the silence.

"(Y/N)? Is that really you?" Jongho choked out, surprisingly. Out of everyone there, you thought the first ones to welcome you would've been Mingi, San, or Wooyoung, or even Seonghwa.

A smile broke on your face and your shoulders slumped in relief, "Yeah, it's really me, Ho,"

You were about to take walk towards them all when Yeosang stepped forward with a hand outstretched, motioning you to stop.

"You think you can just easily walk in here and we would just so easily accept you back?" he spat out.

Your feet stopped in its track and your heart dropped to your stomach.

"Accept me back? What do you mean accept me back, was I ever rejected by you all?" you couldn't help but ask, feeling like Yeosang didn't mean what he said.

But you were dead wrong.

"You left out of the blue, without any explanation, leaving us scrambling around like headless chicken looking for you. YOU rejected us first," he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "I didn't reject you guys- oh my God, I had to get away from here for a while and I couldn't tell any of you! I didn't have time because I was pressed, FORCED to leave and having to keep my mouth shut about everything, I was miserable when I left," your voice cracked on its own mid-sentence without you realizing.

A scoff left Yeosang's mouth, "No one forced you to do anything, (Y/N), you LEFT, you CHOSE to do that all on your own," he turned a bit to point at Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho, "You left those three crying their eyes out for you, there wasn't a day when Mingi wouldn't actively go out to look for you with one of the others, do you know that your former RA almost got his ass tied to a restriction order?" he then moved again to point at the three oldest, "Hwa hyung and Yunho barely ate, too stressed to even keep food down, Hwa hyung had to take medicine for the toll of stress on his body and Joong hyung barely went out of his room, he tried to distract himself from the fact that you left without saying anything, some of us had to force him to eat and sleep,"

Then suddenly he gripped onto San's hand and brought him forward. Your heart broke at how sunken San looked, bags under his eyes and he seemed visibly smaller and weaker, "and San here got so depressed that he wasn't able to function whatsoever. I had to make sure he got out of his bed and move around every day or else I'm sure that he would've died," Yeosang's voice cracked as tears began streaming down his eyes.

Yunho took a step forward and look around at everyone, "G-guys, let's calm down a bit-"

But he was cut off by Yeosang who had let his emotion took over him completely.

"You left us! You left us broken-hearted and confused and lonely and ruined! So no, you don't get to waltz here so easily, thinking that we'd just accept you with open arms after the crap you pulled. If you wanted to be a wandering tramp, then why even bother coming back? Did you get bored out there? Or were your conquest turned out to be a failure? We were genuine about you, yet you simply shrugged us off like dust," he screamed at you.

You didn't even realize that your own tears had run down your own face. You looked around for the other boys for help, but neither one were looking at you. They were actively avoiding your stare.

Seeing Yeosang's chest heaving heavily with lips trembling, Seonghwa took a step closer to him and pulled him back slowly.

"Yeosang, come on, man, not like this. Not now. Let's take a deep breath first, okay?" he said softly despite his own obvious bubbling emotion.

Maybe it was the raw emotion and the vulnerable state Yeosang was in, but he simply let Seonghwa drag him back slowly until they both retreated to the stairs.

One by one, starting from Jongho then Hongjoong and Wooyoung, then San slowly followed whilst keeping his eyes glued to the floor, they all left you. Your heartbeat quickened when you watched their retrieving figure, backs towards you so coldly.

Not that you could blame them, Yeosang made a point about you leaving just like that without any notice.

All that left were Yunho and Mingi.

As they looked at each other, you could see that they were debating whether to welcome you or not.

Your hope was immediately crushed as they simply gave you a broken-hearted stare and followed the other six, disappearing to their own rooms.

So all that's left was you, out in the open.

All alone.

Vulnerable.

How you wish you could turn back time and changed your decision.

taglist :

@raysanshine @peachy-maia @xuxiable @90s-belladonna @theclawofaraven @sanraes @sungiehan @felix-kithes @nycol-ie @superstarw99 @skkrtnawrskkrt @viv-atiny @the7thcrow @stfu-xeena @laurademaury @multihoe-net @daisyhwa @scoupshushushu @whyisquill @bikiniholic @yunhorights @exfolitae @simplewonderland @verycooldog2 @perfectlysane24 @hannahdinse8 @tannie13 @aka-minhyuk-kun @phebeedee @em0yunho @marsophilia @donghyuckanti27 @se-onghwa @malewife-supremacy @hyunsukream @elijahbabyb @taejichafe @alliecoady98 @rdiamondbts2727 @hakuna-matata-ya @ohmy-fandoms @spacechubbyatiny @stray-bi-kids @imaaroy @fashi0nablee @rindomo @violetwinters @nabihwa @linhyyboo12 @mirror-juliet @bestboiericsohn

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shadowworks · 4 years

Text

Look Inside

Pairing: Overhaul X Reader

Warnings: Dubcon-noncon, medical kink, drugged sex, mention of needles, mentions of blood, bondage, fingering, this is dark!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: I decided to try some creepy themes and give second person a try. So we’ll see how it goes. This piece is dark so please mind the warnings!

Huge shoutout to @present-mel for making the beautiful banner and reading over my fic you precious gem! Also thank you @thisisthehardestthing and @hisoknen for your feedback it’s so greatly appreciated! 💜

Someone had shut off the lights in the morgue.

You happen to notice this when your eyes toil lazily between security cameras at the right time. You freeze on the spot, and quirk a brow toward the shadow. You expect it’ll brighten any second like it usually does, but after those few seconds tick by without change, a weight of dread sinks in your stomach.

Kai Chisaki put orders in place that if experiments are up and running the basement levels are to remain lit. Chisaki and his men are already down below, and the winding pale halls near the morgue are empty.

You haven’t been called to notify cleaners about another bloody corpse still peeling off the wall, and you can’t find motion on the surveillance camera when you rewind the recordings. It’s in the lower right corner of the camera, and you note the light flicks off without warning. No one enters, no one leaves.

You study the harsh glow of the screen for another moment, still in denial, still waiting for the lights to flicker on, and stand up from the chair in the office. When not a soul appears by the threshold, all you can do is lean forward with your hands pressed on the desk, dropping your head in defeat. “Seriously? Fuck you.”

You don’t know who “you” was exactly, but it felt right to say.

It takes a bit of time after departing the small office, but you find the proper hall in Chisaki’s deeply looping maze...It’s just you don’t want to step out from the elevator. You were ready before, but when the doors split open and the cool air ghosts against your cheeks, you pause. There’s a stillness lingering in the hallway; it’s far too quiet- except for the creaks in the elevator floor from your shifting weight...But, something seems off.

Your steps are tentative when you do slip out, peering down the drab hallway. You clearly see which of the rooms is buried in shadow, and frankly you want to whirl back around before the doors close. But you can’t, well, not yet at least. The tap of your shoes hits off the walls, while you tread along on stiff legs. Eventually you come to a stop having reached the doorway. It’s partly open, a slice of darkness hiding what’s deep inside.

Hold on, this can't be right. The camera— A shudder trails up your spine. It tingles coldly.

You inhale a deep breath. Okay, just do it; just switch the lights back on, it’s fine. It’s fine. Besides, if it were you (which it is) you wouldn’t want to deal with Chisaki’s ill temper over something so minor as a light.

He’s punished his men for incompetence before, and those who didn’t listen have smeared the walls with their blood, drenching vein red across white. Black-looking goops of muscle plopped on the floor...the consequences ranged based on severity of failure or how stressed he is, really. In fact, one man had the skin of his face torn off for talking back—wait, relax. Focus

It won’t happen. Kai Chisaki is somewhere else in the maze. He’s not aware of what happened.

There’s a member with a quirk which lets him melt through walls; the tiny one with a bone white mask. He probably slipped between the rooms and grabbed something then turned the lights off. But that didn’t explain the door...

It doesn’t matter.

You stretch an arm out, gently pushing the door further open, and light spills onto the tile floor.

It’s a cold, vacant room. There’s a pungent scent of bleach still lingering from a cleanup, but it hits your nose almost like it happened recently. You can’t see much nor do you want to. And your hand reaches around the door frame, trailing gentle fingers along the smooth surface for a switch—

Only, there’s nothing on the wall.

“Are you serious? Really?” you huff to yourself, stepping round to search for the light. Sure enough, your fears are realized with one look.

You let out an annoyed groan, and a, ‘stupid switch’ under your breath. Who the hell designs a room and doesn’t put a switch by the door?

Your eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark, so you can’t see the precise details on the walls. So this leaves you no choice but to step further in, allowing the brightness from the hall to guide you along.

It’s a moderate room with a vaulted wall filled with metal drawers, all large enough to fit an icy corpse in ‘til the yakuza dispose of them. Then there’s the silver surgical table in the middle of the room. It's empty, but the thing’s embellished. There’s protruding belts attached, and a tray on wheels is parked on the side. On top of the tray is a clean towel and a neat row of surgical tools lay flat across.

Your brows scrunch together, studying the sharp gleam of knives and the sizes of needles. Why are these out? Kai’s an obsessive clean freak, every little thing needs to be put back and organized. All his masked cronies know this rule, so who the hell did this? That is, unless someone’s using them?

Your back is turned to the glow seeping in from the hall, so you don’t see a gloved hand press on the metal door. There’s a push, and the door slams shut.

You let out a startled yelp, cupping your hands to your mouth. What the hell…! Your heart’s pounding wildly in your chest; for some reason the room feels colder, you feel colder.

“I must say this is disappointing.”

Light floods the room from the panels above, flickering with a buzzing noise before they settle. You take a moment. A deep breath, a slow exhale. When the initial shock stops tingling in your muscles, you slowly drop your palms. The voice is male, his tone’s calm, ominous and it carries like chill over your shoulder. You know this voice; you know you have to turn around. But fuck, you can’t stop trembling. When you do, you see a tall figure looming near the wall, a gloved hand still on the switch.

Kai Chisaki.

“I told Setsuno I needed him in the security room. Do you think it’s hard for him to follow directions?”

You stare at him, anxiously. He isn’t wearing his green coat with the violet plumage trimming on the collar. He’s in his iron pressed, black suit and grey tie; the trademark plague mask covering half his face.

“Setsuno asked me to fill in. He said he wasn’t feeling well...I guess,” you manage to say it as steady as you can.

The lanky blond hadn’t given you a clear reason when he staggered towards you near dawn. But if you’re being honest, you didn’t really care.You barely looked his way at breakfast, choosing to stare into your dark coffee cup than at the katana resting on his shoulder. The sword was still wet with blood, and you knew he’d been out all night. Though right now, you sorta wish you pressed him more for details.

Kai mutters something slightly bitter, words that are muffled against the material of his mask. But you hear him sigh, then his tone turns crisper. “No matter. It’s inconvenient, but I can work around these...changes.”

His arm drops to his side, walking from the wall. And unexpectedly- those peculiar eyes you see leering at his enemies, have now fallen on you.

You seize up in mild panic, the pupils in your eyes shrinking; not knowing what to do. You take a scuffling step or two back on reflex—and knock your hip against the table corner.

Oww—ow, fuck. Hold on, what’s he doing? Why—Your voice bubbles in your throat as you watch him draw near. Though it’s strange, for Kai doesn’t pull at the rim of his latex glove like expected, rather, the Shie Hassaikai boss happens to steer past you instead.

...Huh?

Your neck cranes, loose hair spilling over your shoulder. He stops a couple feet away and tilts his head downward in front of the tray, no longer regarding your presence and focusing on his work.

You stand there awkwardly, just listening to the clinks of metal fitting together in Kai’s grip. You’re not fully understanding though, should you leave? It looks like your job’s finished now that your boss is here. Besides, you’re pretty confident Kai doesn't want you here if he’s occupying the room.

In the long pause between you two, your mind’s made up which prompts you to retreat back and aim towards the door. They’re slow, careful moving steps.

“Well, you seem busy...I should probably hurry back and watch the cameras,'' you say dismissing yourself. You’re partial toward the comfort of the smaller office, and any chance you have of leaving the macabre storage space you will eagerly take it.

You don’t make it to the gleaming doorknob—because Kai’s voice holds you still. It isn’t loud, but it grips the room. “No stay. There’s no need for you to leave so soon.”

A mix of fear and confusion read across your features. Kai has never spent a moment alone with you. In fact, you aren’t actually part of the yakuza. The only reason you’re associated with the fallen crime syndicate, is because the former boss offered you odd jobs as a favor. You needed some work to keep from struggling and he had taken a liking to you, sort of how he did with Kai. But then, the leader collapsed.

Now you aren't sure where you stand. Chisaki is in charge.

“I believe there’s something you can do for me. Will you have a seat on the table?”

You aren’t sure if you heard him right, or fully grasp what he means. He says it so casually- but you know better; it’s a demand. You’re just not sure why.

“I’m fine. Really. I should be going-“

“Are you defying my order?” Again, he says it so nonchalantly. This time Kai turns his head over his shoulder; the look he gives is almost impassive, yet there’s a menacing gleam in the yellow of his eyes.

“What? No, I was…! Right.”

You don’t exactly drag your feet, but you do stand hesitant before the edge of the table where countless bodies have been dissected. So much blood, so many organs harvested on this very table.

“I won’t ask you again.”

You turn around robotically, eyes pointed downward as you hoist your hips onto the metal. The table’s surface is icy, it numbs your fingers the longer you lean on it, which only makes you fold them against your thighs.

“Roll up your sleeve.” Kai says by your right, holding up a purple band. Your gaze flicks up immediately, nervously, a silent plea for mercy. As if somehow your glossy and delicate eyes will make a difference. But it does nothing toward Kai’s stoic stance. He simply waits, and his own steely eyes narrow back.

You drop your head with a wince; just do as he says.

You comply, pushing up your long sleeve. Though you make a point not to help much more than that, leaving your arm limp at your side.

Kai doesn’t seem to notice or care and proceeds to wrap the rubber around your arm. You grimace, unpleased as his fingers skim your arm, and again when he brushes you with a wet cotton swab.

“You need my blood?” You ask evenly.

His eyes don’t leave your skin, “Not necessarily.”

“A lot of effort for, ‘not necessarily.’” You say, not too dryly.

“You’ve seen my work before, you should know by now I take great care in everything I do.”

Kai rotates between you and the now rolled over stand, dismissing your light jab. He sets up the port for blood to flow; all in a well practiced motion. It certainly makes you wonder how many times he’s done this before.

“I’m curious, when was your last doctor's appointment?” He asks suddenly, hands already prepping the next instrument. The other needle probably, but you don’t want to play as his patient. He isn’t your doctor, for fucks sake.

“A while.” You answer.

“A while,” he repeats with a subtle chuckle under his covered breath,“Has anyone told you before you’re a feisty one?”

You bite your tongue and refuse to meet his side glance. When you don’t reply back, he carries on with a sigh.

“I’ve had quite a long day you see, so I’m afraid I’ve exhausted my tolerance for stubborn little girls.”

Suddenly, his hand is squeezing your shoulder, and all too quickly you find yourself thumping against the cold metal, your horrified eyes staring up at the bright ceiling. The next thing you feel is buckles fastening, pinning you against the table by your waist and elbows.

You're flooded with tingling panic, voice cracking from strain, “Hol—Hold on one second. Please, just one more—”

“—You know they say you should never let the lamb see the knife? Their fear tampers the meat, and ruins the flavor,” Kai gives a sharp tug on the last belt. “But I find yours all the more intoxicating, my dear.”

You stammer, words of protest mingle together as you attempt to be heard, “I don’t understand, why are you…Just stop. You need to let me go!”

Your teeth clench together in a rage that fills your chest. You’re not thinking rationally, your nerves are unhinged. And in your adrenaline high your leg curls up, thrashing a viciously blunt strike toward the point of his beak.

Before it can connect and batter the bridge of his nose and mark his cheekbones, Kai’s arm flexes quickly. Your foot stops mid air as he catches your ankle with constricting force.

“Do I?” He asks with a title of his head, there're subtle creases in the corner of eyes, you can imagine his mouth settles in a cold smile beneath.

In that moment you freeze up. Your lash lines burn, stinging with fresh tears glossing your doe eyes. You don’t breathe, you don’t dare to expand your lungs. Your only thought is begging him not to burst open your calf.

“You shouldn’t be giving commands. You work under me now,” his nails dig in your flesh, and you know those indents will marr your flesh.“Meaning you’ll have to bear with me while I continue.”

Kai doesn’t loosen his hold, briefly watching your pained expression. But he favors dropping his gaze below to study the stretch of your thigh, your exposed and parted groin. It’s then his nimble fingers reach to unclasp the button of your jeans and he gently pulls down the zipper. You cry out, jerking against the belts, but he isn’t fazed.

“One of our new drugs is supposed to relax its victims...recently it’s been ineffective if the heartbeat’s racing too quickly, though we’ve made modifications to counter this. My plan was to stage a fight with Setsuno, until...you graciously took his place.”

Kai lowers your leg, both hands roaming across to the edge of your jeans. He still studies you, and decides to push up your ribbed sweater, letting the cold bite of the morgue chill your hips. His latex fingers trace lightly across your pebbled skin, skimming down the dips to your thighs.

“Yes, this will do just fine. You’re pretty enough,” he muses, softly.

He then tucks his hands into your waistband, yanking them down your legs, before they fall to the floor with a plop. The seamless panties slip off easily, as well. This sends a small prickle through you, and, no, this can’t keep going! The fight in you surges, pushing your knees together to shield your groin. Only Kai doesn’t like that.

There’s something cold and dangerous in his glare, a threat that twists at your stomach. He’s warning you; don’t make this worse for yourself or you’ll make him snap. And you didn’t want that...You watch both his hands clutch your knees, he doesn’t waste time and he yanks your legs apart, taking in your pretty cunt.

Angry tears trickle down your cheeks in response. Your throat burns from holding back a sob, “Chisaki, please. If you would—“

Without a moment of hesitation, Kai knowingly finds where to touch you first. A little too skillfully for a false doctor, the pad of his thumb presses against your soft, sensitive nub, stroking tight circles with focus. Your breath catches, falling heavier while he sinks his pad deeper in the forming slick, building steady pressure.

“Still so stubborn, what good will that bring you?”

A broken moan spills on your shaky breath, all against your better decisions. His other hand settles between your legs, and a finger plunges inside your heat, curling upward and massaging the rougher layer of flesh. A sharp gasp inhales into your lungs. He isn’t stopping, no, Kai’s gloved finger moves with vigor the more your pleasurably laced cries pour out from your lips, how desperate they become.

He pushes in a second finger, and then a third thrusting in, stretching you and soaking your walls with your arousal. This causes you to push your hips further against his latex hand.

“Kai, you fucking bastard!” you sob out, formalities be damned as your back arches. You can feel the building pulses in your cunt tense up, losing yourself to your superior on an icy slab in a fucking morgue.

“You curse my name as though you’re not enjoying this,” Kai mocks.

His fingers pump deeper, tightening your abs and your lips fall open. His matching rhythm on the bundle of nerves surges in a crash, sending a hard orgasm that shivers through your body. For a moment, just a little moment, your cares fade away.

You're left breathing deeply, staring up at the ceiling as your chest rises and falls. The euphoria lasts a moment longer, but only for so long. Reality sets in as you lay there, and much too soon, the warmths gone.

Kai takes advantage of this.

With your chin tipped up toward cabinets lining the ceiling, Kai unfastens his thinner belt. It’s only when you feel him hook under your knees and pull at your thighs that you snap your head up in startlement.

Kai’s venomous eyes stare you down, “I suggest laying back down little girl, we’re not finished yet.”

“Like hell!”

A second flare of rage strickens across your features, a hard glare that doesn’t unyield, especially as he unzips and withdraws himself from formal slacks. You know he’s relishing in your disdain for him, and this makes you thrash on the belts, hoping to force them apart. Of course, Kai did a good job of fastening these fuckers and simply chuckles at your attempt.

“You’re still not understanding the position that you’re in,” He slips a hand in his pocket, and pulls out the wrapping of a condom. Taking his time, tearing it open, rolling the rubber down his thick length with precision.

When Kai’s satisfied, his arms reach for you and grab at your hips, giving them a sharp yank forward. He leans in with a darkly low voice, “You can’t escape me. You’re mine to do with as I please.”

“...You lean any closer and I’ll spit in your face.” There isn’t any bite to it. It’s a calm, empty threat and loses all its appeal as a single tear spills down your cheekbone.

A huffing noise emits from his mask, with his lids narrowing in mild disgust. You catch the words “filthy woman,” rasped low and nasally before he does lean back, wrenching at the skin around your hips.

When he’s all settled Kai lines himself to your heat, in a slow motion he draws himself inside. You almost don't hear it, but from the mask you note a soft hitch in his breath. He gives shallow pushes and pulls on your hips, an experimental dip that splits you in a painful stretch before he pumps fully into you. They’re slow, long strokes, filling you to the brim.

Another strained gasp rips from your wet lips, and your hands impulsively spring out, clenching the black cloth of Kai’s sleeves. His hips snap quicker, and your breath picks up with him. Heart pounding to his thrust; you can feel the beats in your neck.

And all of a sudden you hear the sound of plastic clasping together, the squeeze of an injection clip the shell of your ear. Your eyes snap open in horror. What—?

Kai locks on your facial features, his deep pumps lessen though the slapping of skin doesn’t stop. “You’ve been too tense. Why don’t you relax for awhile?”

When did he..?

He prepped it. The syringe must’ve been tucked away. He did have this all planned. You were just the unlucky one who walked to the table and sealed your fate.

The serum he injected into your bloodstream has fast results it seems. The tension in your muscles slack against his thrusts, allowing him to carry your body closer and take more of his length. You feel the tension in your wide eyes soften, slowly falling half lidded and weak.

“That’s a good girl, you're taking to the drug faster than I thought,” he muses a little breathless. Right after he sets the syringe back down, a gloved hand reaches for the strap fastened around his head and pulls. The mask slips off.

It’s at this point he hikes his knees up onto the table and pounds in deeper, letting your walls suck him in. Your body’s folded, and Kai treats your body in any way he desires.

You manage to pull your head from his sharp eyes, your cheek bouncing slightly against the icy metal to Kai’s rhythm. The drawers for the deceased are taken in.

You stare intently.

“You’re going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No.” He manages between breathes, his voice is heavy and laced with lusting growls, “This is merely a precaution. In the event...ah, in the event you overdose...well. You’re in the right place.”

Your head lolls back to Kai meeting his delicate face which is now flushed. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him behind the mask. He’s beautiful. Soft featues that compliment him so well. If only he wasn’t so cruel...

“In fact, hah, if you survive...I think this will be the start of something new in my work.” He manages the last bit with a shaky chuckle.

You see him smirk wickedly, and all you can do is watch, because it doesn’t stop. The only sound in the room is the liquid squish of sex, your mixed heavy breaths. And you hope, god do you hope in your hazy state, feeling a numbness taking hold of your body, that you leave this room alive.

#overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #yandere #kai chisaki #tw noncon #tw dubcon #overhaul #bnha #shadow tales

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your-highnessmarvel · 3 years

Text

From Bleak to Bright Part Four

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: OOOOH the development of this story makes me so excited for the rest!!! Loki is def in this part babies;)

Warnings: angst, language

Enjoyed this and want more? Send in your requests!

Request Guidelines

MASTERLIST

PART FOUR

The evening sun bore down onto the horizon, coloring the sky a myriad of blue and yellow and pink. Like vagabond brushstrokes upon the canvas of the sky. A few, wandering birds called from a distance, lazily gliding in the wind.

The door behind you opened and closed. You turned away from the darkening horizon and saw your brother offering two cups of steaming chamomile tea.

“Steve says they might have a point of entry for you,” he said, but his tone wasn’t into it, as if the week’s dealings bore on his shoulders alone.

When Tony had announced your role as the bait, Bruce had thrown himself at your side. No one would hurt his baby sister, he’d said.

“I don’t think he’s going to fall for it,” you said halfhearted.

Bruce sighed, handing you the cup. You wrapped your hands around the burning warmth. “I think you still don’t fully understand the soulmate bond,” your brother said.

“Huh?”

He sipped on his tea, clearing his throat. “At least for men, it’s not really about how you feel towards that person, albeit that yes, there’s passion.” He scratched the back of his neck, awkwardly coughing. “It’s more the protection you want to have on this person. Their wellbeing is of utmost importance. It’s hard, sometimes, to differentiate between protection and possession.”

A lump formed in your throat. Possession?

“And knowing Loki,” Bruce went on. “Knowing his nature of envy and greed, he’s for sure feeling the effects of the bond as just that - possession. He feels like you belong to him.”

Astonished, you turned away from your brother, both to hide your flaming cheeks and the awkwardness forming between you.

“Has he made anymore...” you hesitated, “demands?”

Bruce shook his head. “No.” Then he looked at the horizon. “But he’s looking for you. He went to your apartment. Your daytime job. Even the school you used to go to part-time in the summer.”

That seemed like so far behind. Like someone else. Not you. That life you’d had barely more than two weeks ago, when you’d accepted to help Bruce. That girl, living alone in a somewhat nice apartment, going to work on public transport, and studying in the summer - that girl seemed like a stranger now. The girl who used to see in black and white.

“So what happens when he finds me?” you asked tentatively.

“We swoop in,” Bruce answered. “We get him. We hand him over to Thor, and he brings him back to Asgard and makes sure he never comes back.”

That word. Never. It rung like a Cong inside your brain. The prospect of never seeing Loki ever again, never talking to him, stroke a cord in you that you wished you could ignore.

During this whole week of scheming, no one had asked you how you felt about all this. He was your soulmate after all. And the idea that, after all this time, you’d finally found him and he was bound for eternal life in prison made you want to scream.

Bruce put his hand on your upper back, as if sensing your discomfort. “Let’s go to bed,” he said soothingly. “Tomorrow is a big day.”

Yes, tomorrow was a big day.

***

You strolled through downtown New York, trying your hardest not to look over your shoulder. It had been a week since you’d been in a huge crowd, and returning to the crammed streets of the city made your belly buzz.

Nat sounded in your ear. “Make it look authentic,” she said.

Right. Because luring a thousand-year-old demi-God into a quiet corner to trap him was the easiest thing in the world. Nat had tried to teach you a few things when they’d all cooped up at Tony’s secret forest getaway, but now, living it, you couldn’t remember how to act benign.

You tried to pretend to be listening to music, the airpods in your ears actually being comms with the Quinjet hidden overhead. You stopped at Starbucks. You pretended to look through the windows of clothing stores. You stepped into a bookstore and bought a novel.

It had been an hour that you were “baiting” and nothing.

Not even a glimpse.

You sighed in defeat, pushing your hair behind your ears. The day’s heat was boring down on you, and you knew your nose was burnt. Your tank top was soaked, your jeans sticking to your legs. Totally uncomfortable would be an understatement.

You saw a glimpse of something gold in the Macy’s window and looked over your shoulder.

“Y/N,” Bruce sounded in your ear. “Come in.”

You remained silent. The crowd before you changed, people walking past you in a hurry. You turned back to the window, muttering to your brother, “I’m fine.”

“Get away from Macy’s, you have enough clothes,” your brother muttered back.

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s funny?”

You jumped, yelping, staring up into Loki’s green gaze. Heart hammering, blood roaring in your ears, you tried to focus on calming yourself. Your hands were sweaty as you reached up to take out one airpod.

He smirked. Under the sun, he was glorious in an all-black ensemble, his raven locks freshly cut beneath his chin, pushed back behind his ears.

“Fancy a stroll?”

You gulped, looking at the elbow he offered. Something shimmered there, around the edges of his forearm. As if he glowed.

He’s not really here.

You remembered from your briefing on Loki, that Thor had said the jester loved his illusion tricks.

“I presume I have to pretend to hold your arm?” you answered, feeling the knot of anxiety dissolve in your belly at the sight of his grin.

“Clever.” He retreated his arm, looked around at the crowd swiftly moving past him. “May we talk somewhere private?” he asked.

Nat had told you he’d say that, and your job was to not look too eager. He’d smell a trap before you’d even agree.

You forced yourself to frown. “You want to get me alone?”

He huffed, his lips pulling into a dashing smirk. God, he really was beautiful. The sun, so warm and overbearing to you, seemed to grace his entire being as if he’d been crafted by the hands of the gods themselves.

“If I wanted to get you alone,” he said, dropping his voice to a lower octave, stepping closer to you, “I would have gotten you out of Tony’s little wayward cabin much sooner.”

He stood close, not close enough to smell him, but close enough that you had to tilt your head to keep eye contact.

There was a quiet turmoil building inside you at his words, someone whispering “Shit” in your airpod. A slight tremor began at your core, echoing out into your limbs. He’d known where you were. He knew what you were doing.

At the sight of your face - you, who could barely hide your emotions - he grinned wildly.

“I am the God of Mischief, or did you forget?” He tilted his head, squinted his eyes.

Your mouth was dry when you answered. “That’s why you’re casting yourself as an illusion?”

“Clever,” he said, again. Then he licked his lips, erasing the comical expression on his features and replacing it with something akin to stone. “You’re mad if you think you can fool me.”

“Takes one to know one.”

He would have laid hands on you if he wasn’t incorporeal. His eyes darkened, chin dipping so that he stared at you along the length of his nose.

“You’re a chipper little thing,” he said, voice laced with venom. The tone, his expression, the way his illusion made the edges of him tremble instead of glow, made your heart speed with fear. “I’m sure the Avengers trained you well. I’m sure your brother thinks he can save you.”

Bruce whispered in your ear, “Son of a bitch.”

Loki’s unmoving expression slipped enough for him to smirk maniacally. “In fact,” he said, “tell him right now that I’ll win. I’ll win this battle of wits. This fucking planet. And I’ll win his sister.”

And then he vanished, leaving you to hear nothing but your drumming heartbeat, like a sea of swarming insects. The only thing that lingered behind was the smell of pinewood.

I PROMISE PART FIVE WILL BE LONGER!!!!!!!!!!

Tags: @subtlemalice @yallgotkik @buckyandlokirunmylife @kaz11283 @legolas-bromance @shylittlemountain @tofeartheunknown @feelmyfckngsoul @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @caffiend-queen @tomhollandsslilslut @lady-loki-ren @nathan-no @rosaline-black @abundanceofcarolines @my-own-oracle @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @marvelouslovely @drbaureid @bored-as-hell-666 @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @theinfinitenerd @toe-vind-ek-jou @ink-and-starlight @blank-bakabane @sunshineonloki your tag doesn’t work bb

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fic #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #imagine loki #loki oneshot #lokixyn #loki x yn #loki x you #lokixyou #lokixreader #loki x reader #angst #soulmate au

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starlight-loki · 3 years

Text

Headcanon of the day: Loki x Mystic!Reader

This sort of acts as context for a fic I have coming out in the next day or two. I thought I'd release this first as a kind of shittily-written backstory for it, so that the relationship dynamics make sense :) Enjoy!

UPDATE: the fic is all done! you can read it here

(this is quite long and the Keep Reading option won't work, dammit. my apologies 😅)

You know something's wrong as soon as Stephen bursts into your room, a troubled look in his eyes

"They're here."

Stephen had been talking about this for a while -- it was just a matter of time before Thor and Loki arrived in New York looking for their father

He told you from the start that they were going to need help; your help

At first you protested because you were still in the midst of learning everything there was to know about the mystic arts.

you weren't a beginner by any means, but you definitely didn't feel you were at a level where you could just... fight the goddess of death

Now, you realized as Stephen rushed out of your room as quickly as he came, you were out of time to prepare: you had to use what you knew and hope it was enough

You stepped down the stairs into the main entrance of the Sanctum just as Stephen brought Loki back from the void with a thud

"Right, I'm sending Y/N with you. The two of you are going to need help with this whole... situation."

"We don't need help, especially not from a mortal, you second-rate-"

Stephen sends all three of you through a portal before Loki can even finish pulling out his knives

at first, you really can't stand either of them

Thor is... too much muscle, not enough brain

while Loki on the other hand is half part brain, half part whining weasel

You honestly feel like you got stuck babysitting the two of them, and there's a part of you that hopes this mission Stephen sent you on won't be so bad after all

Of course, everything sort of went to shit when you found yourself on Sakaar

You were the first to arrive, and were admittedly terrified when you came face to face with the Grandmaster

you had powers and were strong enough to defend yourself, sure, but this seemed like a whole other ball of wax entirely

You chucked a few illusions here, as well as a couple fancy tricks you learned from Stephen there, and soon enough you became the Grandmaster's... magic show.

It was disappointing really, to know that your powers were being used to amaze three headed ogres and other folks who looked like they walked straight out of the Capitol from The Hunger Games, but at least you weren't fighting in the arena

or worse... dead.

to your surprise, Loki showed up a week later -- escorted to your room by none other than the Grandmaster himself

"Y/N, I've got another wizard for you!"

(you swear you can see Loki's jaw clench at the Grandmaster's term, and it takes all you can not to laugh)

"He can do illusions too. Maybe you two can, y'know, think up a big show for us tonight."

Loki's surprised to see you (and also relieved to see a familiar face, finally), but he quickly disguises his relief as disgust before you can think anything more of it

"I'm not sharing my bed." You say tightly, and Loki shoots you a glare before settling down on the couch in the corner of the room

At first, the two of you barely talk to each other despite sharing a room

You really just throw some illusions together during your show, and then head back to the room to sulk in silence

It honestly starts to feel like you're living the same day over and over, that is until you wake up to the sound of screaming

You rush over to Loki, to find he was having a violent nightmare

When he finally wakes up, terror in his eyes and not fully registering his surroundings, you place a hand over his forehead gently

You remembered an incantation you read once while at the Sanctum, one that could calm even the most restless mind, and you mumbled the words to the best of your ability

To your relief, Loki's breathing slowed as the last of his nightmare faded away

"You okay?"

You don't know why, but you find yourself reaching to hold Loki's hand in both of your own

His fear, his memories... you could almost feel them physically reverberate in you

maybe your initial conceptions about Loki were wrong, after all. Maybe he wasn't nearly as bad as you thought

you go out of your way to try and be a little nicer to him, sneaking in drinks and other treats you managed to grab on your way out of the Grandmaster's parties for him to try

sometimes, the two of you would even stay up until the early hours of morning, sharing stories and laughing together and actually feeling happy

for a garbage planet, maybe things weren't quite so bad.

until the night you had a nightmare. you could've sworn it was real, the way everyone in your dream seemed to dissolve into ash right in front of your eyes

you didn't realize you were crying out in your sleep until Loki woke you up, the entire situation reminiscent of when you first caught him having a nightmare of his own

you see the worry in his eyes, and you can't stop yourself from crying as the events from your dream played through your mind

"It's alright. It's not real. You're safe, Y/N. You're safe."

Loki repeats those words quietly like a lullaby until your breathing calms, and you grab his wrist before he can retreat back over to the couch

"Please stay."

the two of you don't realize just how touchstarved you are until you're both lying together, holding each other as if the world were about to end

(i'm getting Pompeii-esque visuals, am i crying??? maybe)

as your relationship progresses into purgatory-type territory -- somewhere between friendship and romance -- you realize the connection between the two of you grows stronger

specifically, the telepathic connection

before you know it, you can hear Loki's thoughts, and he can hear yours

you suspect it has something to do with the incantation you used to heal him after his nightmare

(you never did read the warnings on that one. oops.)

after a while, the two of you managed to control your telepathic abilities, to the point where you didn't hear the other's each and every thought

there was only a soft buzzing noise in the background of your mind, as if Loki's energy was gently reminding you he was there

Loki found your thoughts incredibly irritating at first

especially how you never seemed to shut up when you were nervous

there was a certain comfort in knowing you were only a thought away, though. especially when the day finally comes when you have to battle Hela

there's a moment when you're convinced Loki had died -- when he ran back into the palace to summon Surtur -- and your breath stops all together in your throat

for a few seconds, you couldn't hear his thoughts anymore. the constant white noise in the back of your mind was gone

when it suddenly resumes out of nowhere as you flew away from the remains of Asgard with Thor and everyone else, you couldn't help but make a run for Loki

you found him in one of the sleeping quarters on the ship, and before you could think twice, you kissed him. hard.

"You idiot! You could've died!"

You can't stop the tears of relief and the smile that lights up your face as you take him in

"I didn't die, however. I'm still here."

All you can do is laugh, and to your utmost delight, Loki pulls you in for another kiss

except this time, you freeze.

"Do you have the Tesseract?"

the way Loki's hands tense around your waist tells you everything

"...why would you think that?"

"I'm a mystic, you idiot! I practically pick up on energy for a living!"

Realizing he really can't hide anything from you, Loki materializes the Tesseract and holds it out to you carefully

"What were you hoping to achieve with this?" You ask, your voice nothing more than a horrified whisper

the lost look in his eyes tells you everything: he wasn't really sure, himself.

you conjure a portal and send the Tesseract far, far away from the two of you, and you can almost see the relief visibly fill Loki's eyes as that temptation disappeared

You realized as you landed back on Earth that the two of you were finally safe. You were home, and you had Loki now, too.

Things were going to be okay.

Until of course, the day your visions started.

#headcanon of the day #loki x reader #loki x gender neutral reader #loki x reader headcanon #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki x reader headcanons #the avengers #thor ragnarok #doctor strange #mcu loki #loki hc #loki x reader hc

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sebstanseabass · 3 years

Text

Afterglow (A Bucky Barnes AU fan fiction) - Chapter 11

Afterglow chapters

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

A/N: I am not from the US and I've only been in New York once when I was a kid (I don't remember much lol I was six, I think), so I apologize if some of the places are inaccurate but I tried my very best to do my own research. Anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters I've written and I hope you guys enjoy it as well!

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The first whisper of the Monday air, brushed among the streets of the Upper West Side as you and Bucky decided to grab your running shoes and spend this day outside in the open air, hoping to burn all the calories you consumed last night. With a bottle of water in both your hands, you reached Central Park, catching your breaths. With sweat dripping down your forehead to your eyes, you saw a vacant bench and took the liberty to sit on it with Bucky behind you.

"Do you," Bucky sat beside you, panting and squinting his eyes and shaking off the sweat on his face, "do you run everyday?"

"Not everyday." You chuckled, taking a sip of water. "Four times a week."

"Why do you even like running? I feel like I'm in hell." He sighed, resting his neck on the brace. His breathing was restless and uneven but soon calmed down after a few moments.

"It takes my mind off things. I got a lot going on up here, y'know." You replied with much honesty. "Other people do it to keep in shape but I do it because I need it."

"I've never considered running. I just go to the gym and lift weights. Well, I have my own gym but if I'm being honest with you, I've been slacking off since the day I got here in New York."

You smiled and lifted your eyes to look at him. His face was glistening under the bright morning sun.

"Maybe it's a good thing we ran today." You nudged his shoulder with yours, his sweat-drenched skin rubbing up against your own. "You should run more. The more you do, the less you'll hate it. Trust me."

"You know what, as long as I'm with you, I will." He chuckled. "Ain't running with anybody else but you, doll."

There was a warm sensation moving up towards your cheeks. You didn't know if it was the heat of the sun or the warm blood rushing in but either way, you just knew that a pink flourish was becoming visible on your cheeks.

During that moment all you could muster was: "S-sure."

You hid your face by facing the opposite of Bucky and looked at the crowd that Central Park held. There, across the field lay a dozen picnic blankets on the bright green grass where a bunch of families and couples were reading, eating and talking audibly. Some were sitting underneath the tree for some shade. Some were walking their dogs on a leash and a poop bag ready on hand. Some were tourists with heavy backpacks just walking around. The chirping birds soaring in the air grabbed my attention, making you look up at the sky in which the bright sun hurt your eyes. You closed your eyes after that, trying to regain most of your vision. Once you did, you opened your phone and checked if Peter had left any messages. Unfortunately, there weren't any.

Peter was very vague about where his corporate retreat was, sticking to his notion that in order for him to take his mind off things, he also needed to be away from his real world, whatever that meant.

You sighed, texting Peter anyway, telling him everything was fine and that Bucky had been with you ever since he went away. You asked him how he was and hoped that everything was fine and well, and that he was enjoying his corporate retreat.

"Hey, let me take you somewhere nice today." Bucky said while tapping your sweaty shoulder, making you look up from your phone.

"Why? Where are we going?"

Bucky stood up, typing on his phone and looking around the park. "Wherever my car takes us. I figured since the bar doesn't open on Monday, you and I could do something fun that'll help you relax. Come on, you can go shower in my penthouse. I already have clothes sorted out for you in the guest room."

Your mind was still processing the part where he said that you could go shower in his penthouse.

Confused, you asked. "Wait, now?"

"Yes. Now, get up on your feet. My car's waiting on the road."

He didn't give you much time to comprehend his words, and respond, as he grabbed your hand, pulled you up from the bench. And as you ran, hand in hand, amidst the crowd, there it was again, that after feeling of spontaneity, fleeting; that same feeling you couldn't seem to explain really well — that same feeling you were wishing to avoid.

You and Bucky jogged towards the streets where a black and white Maserati with fully tinted windows was waiting on the side of the street. You thanked Bucky as he opened the door for you. He gave you a cheeky smile in response then hopped in beside you, introducing you to the driver named Howard. Howard nodded his head and smiled at you through the rearview mirror.

Once the car revved forward, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, weary that your sweat was getting all over the expensive leathered seats of Bucky's car. You moved a bit forward in an oh-so-subtle movement, pushing your body against the strap of the seatbelt across your chest and did your best as you could to avoid sweating all over the seats. With one strong swift move, Bucky pulled your arm back, throwing your back against the seat and told you to relax.

You greeted Leonard with a smile and a wave once you arrived in White Wolf. You and Bucky exchanged some small conversation in the elevator which led right into the penthouse, something about the last time you were here. You both laughed at the memory as you teased him about it.

The penthouse didn't change as much the last time you were here; the only difference was there was no woman with little to no clothing waiting for Bucky to arrive. You looked towards the huge glass windows, your lips curved downward as you were hoping to get a good view of New York that was hiding behind the draped curtains. Bucky led the way towards the guest room in a well-lit hallway on the second floor. You walked under little chandeliers hanging from above. On the walls were duplicate Van Gogh paintings, and framed photographs of nature that blended well with the color scheme of the paintings, as well as the penthouse.

"I picked out some clothes for you that I thought you might like and had my assistant bring them over here." Bucky said, opening the door.

Feeling a bit guilty, you said: "Bucky, you didn't have to."

"I insist. Besides, I'm in charge of you for the whole week." He smiled, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "I told you, I can take care of myself."

"I'm older than you so you do what I tell you." He just dismissed your remark, and added: "Now go shower. I'll meet you downstairs for some brunch."

With that, Bucky closed the door behind him, leaving you in a state of awe as you looked around the guest room which was twice as big as your room. It was like a duplicate of the living room but smaller, and with a king-sized bed in the middle on the far back with clothes and some towels draped along the edge. A telescope stands near the glass walls. Beside it sits two dainty cushioned chairs, and a miniature coffee table. There was a flat screen 32-inch television facing the bed.

You walked near the curtains, slithered your finger between the noticeable gap and took a small peek outside.

You stepped into the insides of the bathroom which was near the size of your room. Everything felt so unfamiliar to you but you bathed everything in and relaxed as soon as the small prickle of the cold shower water hit the soft spots of your body.

You got out of the guest room, feeling fresh from the cold shower. You wore some cropped halter top, heathered trousers and slipped on some fuzzy slippers that were quite big for your size, even though your feet were already big. You quickly assumed it was Bucky's.

"Did you, by any chance, get me some shoes too?" You joked as you approached the kitchen, eyeing the bagels on a big plate on the rectangular island in the center. You hopped on one of the high stools, grabbed one and smeared cream cheese on it. "Just kidding, I love these fuzzy slippers."

Bucky's back was facing you, busy flipping some pancakes on the stove. "You're not wearing that outside. And yes, I do have some but they're mostly Peter's. Don't worry he hasn't used them yet."

"That's alright. We're the same size."

Bucky turned around, a big pan on his right hand. He approached you and flipped a pancake on top of a tower of pancakes on a plate.

"You like the clothes I picked out for you?" He asked and sat down on the high stool.

"Yes, thank you. But seriously, you didn't have to."

"Okay, so let me get this straight... You let me pay for food and alcohol but not clothes?"

You laughed. "It's a different thing! Those were cheap, these," you touched the fabric of your shirt and trousers, "are obviously expensive. They don't have that thrift smell my clothes have. And besides, I need food but not clothes so you paying for my food was a big win for me."

Now, it was his turn to laugh, shoving a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Okay from now on, all I should hear from you when I give you stuff is thank you."

"But... why?"

"Because social convention dictates us to."

"I know, but, why are you giving me stuff?"

"How else am I going to keep you around?" He winked as he continued to chew.

"Bucky." You warned.

"Okay, okay." He chuckled. "The thing to know about me is I love spoiling people — people that I trust and I'm obviously comfortable around you."

Not knowing any other way to answer, you just said: "Oh, well... Thank you."

"And of course, the thing I said before too." He laughed and you threw a bagel at him in response.

You and Bucky enjoyed your little brunch while planning the day ahead of you: go around Fifth Street, and perhaps Broadway, maybe go to the Chelsea market and as Bucky said: "Just go wherever our feet take us!"

Once both of you were done, you headed down White Wolf, with Bucky's Maserati waiting in front. You greeted Howard as you climbed in.

"You know what would be nice?" You started once the car moved forward. "Capturing people's moments in a crowded street." You said, picturing Fifth Street in your head.

"Oh, that's right." Bucky replied. "Here." With his large hand, he handed you a camera. But it wasn't just any camera. It was yours.

"Wait, is this my camera?" You asked, taking it from him. He nodded in response. "Bucky, what the hell, you went through my stuff?"

"Not me. Howard."

"Howard?!"

"Don't worry, miss," Howard spoke, glancing through the rearview mirror where you saw your own reflection, "I didn't take anything else and put everything back in place. I just did what Mr. Barnes told me to do."

"James." You scolded.

"What are you James-ing me for?" He said, leaning against the seat, clearly stifling a laugh. "He's the one who went through your stuff!"

"You are such a child." You rolled your eyes. "You're the one who told him to."

"You heard him, he didn't take anything else."

"Next time you pull something like this, you ought to let me know okay?"

He lifted his eyes to look at you, teeth biting his inner cheek, a smile wanting to reveal itself. "Okay."

You sighed but you also couldn't help but smile at your camera. It had been a long time since you've operated it as you have been so busy in the bar and hadn't had clients for a while now. You closed it immediately, seeing as the battery was just at fifty percent.

You and Bucky got out of the vehicle as soon as Howard reached Fifth street and entered the Lacoste building with no rush. You held your camera close to your chest, the strap feeling a bit heavier on the back of your neck as the hours passed but the weight of pleasure of taking photos of the street from the inside of the glass windows overwhelmed that.

All the stores looked so unfamiliar to you. The stores you usually go to had dimly-lit rooms with low ceilings, and instead of tiled floors and walls, they had chipped to almost rotten wood walls. The smell of new clothes in these designer stores filled your lungs, the bright incandescent lights nearly caused blindness to your eyes, the amount of men and women dressed in suits, stockings, and skirts were nothing you had ever seen before, designer clothes were hanging on racks color-codedly, or by season, or by new and old collection, the eyes of the security guards in each entrance lurked from miles away until you get inside the store, and today, you have seen Bucky's sleek, black credit card get swiped into the little machines a hundred times. He bought some clothes for himself, and Peter, whom he actually promised to.

Bucky even handed you some clothes, told you to put them on and when they did fit you, he immediately went towards the counter.

Feeling as if everything was too much, you refused but all he said was:

"From now on, when I buy you things all you have to say is thank you."

Overpowered, you just nodded and said exactly what he wanted you to say: "Thank you." And as hours passed more shopping bags were in my bags (yes, you insisted to carry what he had bought you, and when he refused, you gave him back his words, a little taste of his own medicine: "From now on, when you buy me things all you have to do is let me carry them.")

"Ah, throwing my words back to me. I see."

As you walked around a whole lot more, side by side, exposed elbows and lonely fingers constantly brushing against each other, you talked about things you both loved. Nothing about Bucky's hotel business, nothing about the bar, just the things in life which made you both happy — photographs, paintings, and everything about art. He saw the world through yours. You were just beginning to see his but the details weren't enough for you. You craved more of what was in his mind and in his life — no, not the business, parties, booze and all that.

But the things that separate him from that world, and the things he grew up with before that.

A lot of questions swarmed in your head, trying to think of ways to ask them but Bucky merely insisted on knowing you. All of you. But just like him, you too had your guards up, especially around your family issues.

Then you reached Chelsea market. You didn't know how but you did. You spotted Bucky's car parked on one street and told you to leave all the things he had bought inside. After saying your goodbye to Howard who, afterwards, drove towards the bumper-to-bumper traffic in Manhattan, you and Bucky headed to wherever your feet you. You were feeling a ton lighter without the shopping bags dragging your hands and you could now freely touch and open your camera.

Bucky, with a Grande Starbucks cup in one hand, looked around with a big smile planted on his face. You walked around, seeing the art district of New York through your lenses. You grabbed Bucky's attention by calling his name and when he turned around, you snapped a shot of him. Eyes wide. Brows furrowed together. Lips in a state of bafflement.

"Hey, delete that!" He protested.

You laughed, turning your body in the opposite direction. "No way! It's a good picture!"

"No, it's not!"

You kept on laughing, mumbling a bunch of "sorry"s and "excuse me"s along the way, the camera still shoved in your face.

Your lens caught a familiar name from afar, printed in neon red: Wanda. You stood there in the middle of the crowd, leaving Bucky to wonder what had happened.

"Let's go there." You said, making your way across the street where it was.

"Where?"

"Just follow me."

Bucky held no questions no more as your feet treaded towards the building of Wanda's studio. Once you reached it, you merely stood meters away from it, looking at the sign.

"Wandavision." You mumbled under your breath then bit your inner cheek afterwards, contemplating if you should go in and say hi but that didn't matter anymore because standing behind the tall glass windows was Wanda herself.

Again, she gave you that oh-so-sweet smile of hers, long red locks cascading down her shoulder as she walked towards the door. You gestured to Bucky to come with you, no questions asked.

"Y/n!" Wanda exclaimed, wrapping her arms around you as you and Bucky entered the building. "Oh, it's so good to see you."

"You too, Wanda."

"And who's this dapper man of yours?"

Beside you, Bucky's body vibrated, a chuckle coming out of his mouth as he offered his hand. "I'm Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you."

Wanda shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, too." She gave you a knowing smile, taunting you, but you dismissed her assumptions by shaking your head no, and then she pouted.

Wanda led you further down her large, wide studio, giving us a tour.

"I'm quite surprised you came by, Y/n."

"We were just walking around the market and saw your studio." You replied. "Wanda, what you have here is... so beautiful."

"Thank you. I really appreciate that. I've wanted this since I was a little girl. It's always been the dream."

The inside was bright, with fair white walls, floor and ceiling, and smelled of fresh lavender. On one corner, it smelled of fabrics, make-up, and hairspray. Framed photos of Wanda hung on the walls. There was a dressing area on a corner, and a comfortable couch, perhaps, for visitors as well as the models. A mini kitchen stood in the far back. On top of the cute marbled island was a coffee maker, and a mini fridge. There was one room solely for the post-production process, her main office. A giant paper backdrop had taken a huge space on the floor. Around it were different kinds of large lights, tripods, chairs and other expensive equipment for photography.

She had it all. Everything you've pictured yourself having.

Wanda had it all.

"You've come at the right time. There's not much going on today but I have tons of clients coming for the next few days but really, feel free to come by anytime you want."

"I will, thank you."

Howard picked you right up outside Wandavision. The whole ride was filled with uncomfortable silence.

"Your friend's really nice." Bucky said, trying to clear the atmosphere. "She's a bit too chatty for me but she's nice."

"Yeah." You answered, your head pressed against the window. "Really nice."

"Are you okay, doll?"

You hummed. "I am. Just a bit tired s'all."

"Listen, I just have to head to the White Wolf but Howard will drop you by the apartment, okay? The shopping bags are already there but you don't have to worry about them, I'll take care of them as soon as I get back. Just take a rest, okay? Maybe a short nap. I'll grab you dinner on the way. How does that sound?"

Tired to even tell him you didn't need to babied, you just said: "Okay. Thank you, Bucky."

You did as Bucky told you to. You ignored the bags sitting on the couch, placed your camera on your nightstand and took a damn nap. When you woke up, instead of feeling better, you felt sick to your stomach. Your phone lit up, a message from Bucky displayed on the screen:

"Sorry for the delay. I'm currently stuck in traffic. I'll see you in 20."

You sighed and with an empty stomach, and an occupied mind, you put on your jacket, anticipating a cold rush, grabbed your keys to the bar and headed down. You went straight behind the counter, jumped over it and found an unopened vodka.

You drank the vodka, drank all your troubles away and as you sat there on the floor, weeping, the place you worked at felt too much familiar to you. So much so that you began to hate it and to hate the kind of life you had been living. Who were you fucking kidding? No, you didn't like juggling two jobs. It sucked. Even though it had been giving you the ability to pay half of the rent, it still sucked.

This wasn't what you wanted.

A few moments have passed. You were already on your second bottle. There was a sound coming from the back which began to startle you. A certain Steve emerged from his office, a look of concern evident on his face.

"Stevieeee!" You stood up, well, tried to anyway. "You're here!"

"Y/n, what the hell." He took you in his big muscular arms, his one hand carefully yanking the bottle of vodka on your hand and placing it on the counter. "You're drunk. You should go home. Where's Peter?"

"He's away. He left. Wait, why are you here?"

"I just had to take care of some things."

"Is Nat back there with you? It's okay, shh, shh, I know about you too."

"Oh, God. Did she tell you?"

"Puh-lease! You imprinted your scent on her like a werewolf."

He just sighed. "Let's get you to your apartment."

"Don't worry, Stevie, I won't tell. Hey, call Bucky. Grab my phone. It's on my ass." You giggled and then hiccuped. He carefully grabbed your phone from your back pocket, let you enter my password which took forever, and then called Bucky.

"He'll be here in a minute or two." Steve said, sliding your phone back in your pocket. "Let's get you seated, alright?"

He sat you in one of the booths. "I'll get you some water, okay?"

You didn't respond. Your eyes were fixated on the photos on the wall. With your breath rapidly increasing, you stood by your knees, and grabbed as many photos as you could. Steve slid in the booth with you, handing you a glass of water. You took a small sip, avoiding his eyes.

"What happened, y/n?"

You didn't give him an answer to his question and just downed the water. But you did ask him something. "Why'd you buy my photos, Steve? Is it because you pitied me that day?"

"What? No, I truly believe you have amazing photos."

"But what?"

"What?"

"There's always a but. What is it, Steve?"

"But nothing, y/n."

"Liar." You muttered. "You're a liar."

"Look, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on."

"I don't need help. I'm not a child!"

"You clearly are, especially when you're behaving like one. You come in here, drink an expensive bottle of whiskey, cry on the floor and ask me a bunch of ridiculous things. It's okay to ask for help sometimes."

"I'll pay for the bottle if that's what you're asking."

"No, I don't care about that. I care about what's going on with you right now because this isn't you, y/n."

"Oh please, you don't. You just pity me! That's why you bought those two photos, that's why you let me put my photos up here in the bar. I'm no good, Steve! I'm no good."

"Y/n — "

Then, a door slammed, a running Bucky coming inside. "Hey, doll. I'm here. Hey, hey, what happened?"

"Let's just go, Bucky." You stood up beside Bucky who held your waist for balance.

"Thank you for calling me." Bucky told Steve.

"Just take her home safely."

"I live right upstairs." You groaned.

"And make sure she doesn't drink anymore or do anything stupid." Steve scolded, his eyes locked on yours.

Bucky held you all the way towards the outside of the bar, and guided you towards the steps that led to the sidewalk. A black limo was on the street. With the windows rolled down, Howard asked, "Is everything alright, Mr. Barnes?"

"Everything's okay, Howie. You can go back now."

"Wait!" You exclaimed, slipping away from Bucky's arms and headed towards the limo. "Howard, take us somewhere."

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

You didn't give him time to wait for an answer as you opened the door and climbed inside the spacious limo. Bucky climbed in, confused.

"Y/n, are you going to tell me what's going on?"

You gave no answer, instead, you gave Howard the address. "450 West 15th Street."

The ride was more silent and shorter. He tried offering you food he had bought but you kindly refused, dreading to get out of the limo. You held on to your photos so tight that marks, scratches and folds were visible even in the dark.

When you reached your destination, you quickly hopped out, with Bucky following you.

"What are we doing back here?"

You were standing in front of Wanda's studio, the red neon lights illuminating on the concrete street, giving a bit of life on this side of New York.

You sat down on the floor, against a big pot of plant, your eyes never leaving the sign. Bucky, still confused, followed suit anyway.

"You know, my parents told me I'd never make it here. The day I left my home to live here, they told me, 'you'll never amount to anything. You'll never have a good life in New York. You'll never make it as a photographer. That's not a real job.' And I told them I will make it that I'll work my ass off, blood, sweat, tears, I'll do anything to prove them wrong. But don't you just hate it when they're right? I left my family, lost my communication to my siblings for this ridiculous dream I've been chasing for years. Everything I've done here feels like nothing."

At this point, you didn't want to hear anything or anyone besides yourself. So you were more than glad to hear nothing from Bucky, and to feel his fingers interlaced with yours.

"Wanda and I met in college; a year younger than me. We shared a love for photography and arts. Then we kind of just lost touch after I graduated. And then I saw her a week ago. She looked so happy and so content and I could feel her pity on me, her eyes, her touch. It was the first time I felt so small and I didn't think I could feel smaller but then we went here. Everything I wanted for myself, the things I pictured myself having and doing... She's living it. She's out there and I'm not. And I really hoped that by now, I've proved my parents wrong but turns out they're right. They were right all along. I don't amount to anything. I'm nothing."

"Wandavision." You laughed bitterly. "Wanda's vision. That right there. That's fucking clever."

"Let's get you home, doll. Please?"

"I want to stay, Bucky."

"We'll talk when we get back. Please, y/n."

You didn't agree to anything but he lifted you up anyway, guiding you towards the limo which was still on the street.

The partition was up. Even though Howard was inside the limo as well, at that moment it was just you and Bucky.

So, you cried, like how the skies cried, in Bucky's arms. You wept for all the unpaid rent and debts, for the menial job that you ended up in, for your failed career as a photographer, for your selfish parents, for your isolation from your college friends, for your insecurities, for your dog that died when you left for college, for your former lover that abused you, for the books you left unread, for all the wrong choices, for all the money you wasted during your college days, for all the toxic people you've ever met, for all the alcohol stains you had to wipe for years, for all the food intake during your peak of stress in school, for the only cherries you tasted, for the drunk sex you've always regretted, for the drunk kiss with Peter you've always regretted, and for the incoming mistake you were about to do.

"Kiss me." You whispered, lifting your head from his chest. "Kiss me, Bucky."

He shook his head no. Your noses touched. "Why not?" Your breaths moved together.

"Because right now, you're a mess." He whispered. "You're very vulnerable and drunk. I can't."

"I'm giving you all the consent I need. Kiss me."

"Not like this, doll."

Instead of going for your dry lips, he placed his lips on your forehead, his mouth and breath lingering. "Not like this."

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 3 years

Text

Last Christmas (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Angst, smut, fluff

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: mentions of past bad relationships, oral (f receiving), fairly vanilla sex

(A/N): I am aware this is a common title 🙄 I’m very insecure about my angst writing skills and my golly gosh I was not happy with this at first. So I edited it several times and now it’s... acceptable. Hope y’all enjoy! (Inspired by me listening the Last Christmas by Wham! 20,000 times)

“Crowded room, friends with tired eyes/

I’m hiding from you and your soul of ice”

-Last Christmas by Wham!

Holiday parties can be one of two things. They could either be the most exciting, eventful get together of the year, filled with laughter and happenings that will be talked about all the way until the next party. Or they can be a dreadfully stressful evening of avoiding that One Person and stuffing your face full of cookies and eggnog— trying to figure out when’s an appropriate time to leave without being rude because you only really came to show your face for the person that invited you. Last year’s party was the happier option for Jimin, one he’ll never forget; but unfortunately, this year has become the latter situation where his choices from the previous party have come to bite him in the ass.

He stands somewhere in the corner, out of sight and avoiding the crowd as everyone mingles merrily over the festive music playing in the background. All night has been like this, terribly boring as he watches his friends joke around and have fun. A few times he’s gone over to the group when he felt it was safe to do so, trying to appear as normal and relaxed as possible as Seokjin scolded him for being a wallflower. He didn’t even want to come, he reminds them, he would have been happy to stay home and mope all night instead of being subjected to this torture.

‘But you have to come, this party is tradition!” Hoseok whined when Jimin first told them this 2 weeks ago. The others had similar complaints.

‘Yeah, it’ll ruin the whole night if you don’t show.’ Jungkook’s pout was pretty convincing, part of the reason why Jimin caved. When he finally agreed, Taehyung had thrown an arm over his shoulders with that carefree grin of his.

‘Don’t let her keep you from having fun! Show up and show off how good of a time you’re having. She doesn’t control your life and you need to start acting like it.’

But Taehyung was completely wrong about that because you had an unimaginable amount of control over him even after so much time. His eyes were wide and paranoid from the moment he walked through the doors, hoping that you wouldn’t see him or try to approach— hoping that he wouldn’t see you and fall apart. And even after initially locating you on the other side of the room chatting to someone else, Jimin couldn’t freely move about the room without keeping his eyes on you to maintain a safe distance. He wouldn’t allow himself to become too distracted in fear of losing sight of you and having an awkward encounter, so he barely spoke to his friends and kept a solo cup of punch as his only companion. Even if he hadn’t come, if he had stayed in his home like he wanted, you would probably still have power over him. He’d probably catch himself wondering if you decided to show up or if you were just as nervous to see him as he was. Would likely daydream about what creative outfit you’d chosen to dress yourself in because he’s been told you usually go all out for parties like these. Maybe he’d scroll through the messages he still hasn’t deleted from his phone, remembering, regretting, reliving both the good and the bad of everything that happened between you two in the course of the past year. Thinking about the events that led him to this, all starting at last year’s party.

*** *** *** ***

One Year Ago

*** *** *** ***

“Who is she?” Jimin stares at you over the lip of his cup, sipping slowly on his drink. Seokjin glances at where his friend is looking, lounging drunkenly on the sofa cushions and loudly singing the wrong words to the Christmas music blasting through the speakers.

“Why? You have a crush on her or something?” He smirks, chuckling at the scandalized expression that Jimin turns to him with.

“A crush? I’m not in the 5th grade, hyung,” He rolls his eyes. “I’m just asking because I’ve never seen her around before...” Jimin finishes quietly, mumbling into his cup as he takes another sip. But before he can swallow fully, Jin is calling you over with a wave of his hand.

You turn your head at the sound of his voice and Jimin swears his heart stops beating in his chest as a bright smile spreads on your lips at the sight of your friend. You walk over with confidence and he has no choice but to take in your body, curves and lines caressed by the tightest onesie he’s ever seen. You’ve come to the party dressed as Rudolf the red-nosed reindeer, your deer onesie zipped low enough for the tops of your cleavage to be revealed and your makeup colored flawlessly to match, freckles spotted along your cheeks and red painted at the tip of your nose. It shouldn’t be sexy, but you could probably make a trash bag look like lingerie with your looks. Jimin shifts in his seat when you come to stand in front of the two men, popping your hip as you look down at them.

“Yes, Seokjin?” You only spare a glance at Jimin before your eyes return to Jin, but his linger on you shamelessly.

“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” He sits up into a proper sitting position, pointing to the man beside him. “(Y/n), this is Park Jimin. Jimin, this is (Y/n). You’re welcome.” Abruptly, he stands and walks away, heading over to bother Jungkook in another part of the large room.

“Nice to meet you, Jimin.” You extend your hand toward him and he fumbles with his cup between his hands at the gesture, eventually composing himself to stand and give you a proper handshake. Since he was seated on the couch and you had come to stand directly in front of him, you now stand a bit too close to each other, his body trapped between yours and the couch. But you don’t retreat, not even moving back a step as you inspect him from head to toe.

The two of you spent more than 2 whole hours talking, relentlessly flirting with each other as you discovered that you shared many things in common. You laughed at his jokes and gave him your full attention the entire night, your hand always finding it’s way onto his arm or knee as you pressed closer to him on the couch cushions as the night went on. It was obvious that you were very attracted to him, but Jimin didn’t want to be too forward and make you uncomfortable so he kept his hands to himself until you finally cracked and pulled his hand onto your upper thigh.

Looking into your eyes, he could clearly see the lust swirling in your irises, so it wasn’t a surprise when you pulled him upstairs into a bathroom, locking the door behind you and kissing him up against it. Nor was it surprising when you allowed him to lift you onto the countertop of the sink and bury his face between your thighs, tasting you until you had to clap a hand over your mouth to suppress your moans. What did surprise Jimin, however, was how amazing it felt to be inside you, his knees feeling weak as he pounded you into the hard surface and bit back the needy groans bubbling in his throat. You almost killed him when you dropped to your knees and took his tip into your mouth, sucking and swallowing every drop of his release as he gasped in elation. It took him several minutes to collect himself after the ordeal, but you sat on the counter and talked to him as you both calmed down and quickly agreed that this should become a regular thing.

It was about 5 months in that Jimin realized that he had serious feelings for you. The realization came when he couldn’t stop thinking about you— even in a non-sexual context— and started thinking about what it would be like if you were his. And when he finally gathered the courage to ask you out on a date, his heart nearly exploded when you said ‘yes’.

Yet his joy was short lived because his phone rang on the day of your date and you explained to him that you had been “thinking about some things” after a conversation with Jin. You had been talking about the newest episode of a tv show with him when he mentioned how awkward it would be if 2 of his friends ever started dating. He said he would hate to be a middle man between them, especially in an argument or breakup, and how hanging out with them would never be the same, how it would be weird to spend time with them separately but that he would be a third wheel if they were together. Of course, Jin didn’t know that you and Jimin were sleeping together, even if he was the one who introduced you, but his comment got you thinking and now you weren’t sure if you wanted to go out with him anymore. You told him that you needed time to think about it more deeply, but you are a logical person who never makes decisions without analyzing every outcome, so Jimin knew that it would be a long time before he got an answer from you. In the meantime, you suggested, you could continue to be friends because you had grown so used to his company, but things were awkward, and eventually communication dropped between you and you fell out of touch for the rest of the year.

A few times Jimin had wanted to text you. Ask if you still thought about him or if you ever intended to give him an answer. Maybe just check to see if you were doing well since he does still care about you. He still thinks about you almost everyday. Still wets his pillow with tears on hard nights. But his pride keeps him from reaching out, always afraid of your rejection.

*** *** ***

A sharp tap on the shoulder startles Jimin out of his thoughts and he almost drops the plate of cookies in his hands. Turning, his face pales as he is met with your inquisitive stare, beautiful face betraying little emotion. Before he can stop himself his eyes are scanning down your body, the ugly Christmas sweater dress you’ve elected to wear looking so cute on you, and he’s certain you’re the only person who could pull that off.

“Are you avoiding me? I haven’t seen you all night.” Blunt as ever, you stare directly into his soul as he squirms, looking down at the snack table in front of him and pretending to contemplate which goodies to pick up.

“No, I’ve been around.” He answers coyly.

“Not around your friends.” Your eyes shift behind him to the cackling group of men standing several feet away. This simple statement makes his heart jump. Had you been looking for him? Were you actually eager to see him tonight despite everything that’s happened? He tries to squash the tiny bud of hope in his chest, clearing his throat when you continue to stare at him.

“Like I said, I’ve been around. I’m not avoiding you.” This comes out quietly, he’s never been good at lying. But you make a sound of agreement and nod, not pressing him about it further. He watches from the corner of his eye as you turn your attention to the snack table now, looking as though you were going to pick something up, but when you realize that neither of you are moving and waiting for the other, you turn your head to him again.

“Do you- can we talk?” You ask abruptly and his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. He doesn’t know how to respond to this. Would it really be a good idea for him to talk to you? He’s tried so hard over these past months to extinguish the flame he felt for you, to lock away those feelings so he doesn’t get hurt anymore than he already has, but looking at you now— standing so close to him that he can smell the scent of your holiday themed body spray— has his heart working double time. One look into your eyes and he’s ready to melt into a puddle on the floor. He’s not sure how he’ll react if you actually got him alone.

Even still, he agrees.

Of course it’s after several seconds of silence and wide-eyed staring, but the smile you give eases his awkwardness once he finally gets the words out. It’s with lead limbs that he follows you through the crowd, weaving through friends and acquaintances until the noise of the room becomes muffled and you are the only person he can see. This is different, though. Flashes of last year keep coming back to him, the parallels making his head spin, but the air is different. Instead of sexual tension between you two it’s just regular tension. The air is tight in his lungs, but this time it’s not from excitement— it’s nervousness. The hallway you guide him to is private and out of sight, but this time you’re alone for an entirely different reason. He can sense the tension in your body even through the zip-tight facade you have on display.

When you come to a stop and face him, both of you are biting your lips, and it looks as if you’re trying to find the best way to put your words. You both stand with your backs to the opposite walls of the hall, the distance between you feeling necessary in order to think properly.

“How have you been?” You start quietly, lips pressed tightly together as though forcing yourself not to say the wrong things. “I’ve wanted to call you, text you, do anything to show that I still acknowledge your existence on this planet- but I’m a coward so I couldn’t bring myself to do it. So how are you?”

Again, Jimin finds himself not knowing how to answer. He could say he’s fine, but what good would that do in this situation? Taking a deep breath, he speaks.

“Honestly, it’s been hard, (Y/n). I know we never dated, I’m just the idiot that caught feelings in a strictly sexual arrangement, but it still hurts. You left me hanging.”

“You’re not an idiot.” You say quietly and he gives you a blank look before returning his gaze to the floor.

“... How have you been?” The words sound forced even on his own ears, but he can’t help but ask. He relates so deeply to what you said about not having the guts to reach out first. So many times he’s pulled up your contact, typed something out that resembles accepting the apology you never gave, but then he’d remind himself that if you wanted to talk to him you would, but you haven’t so you don’t.

“Miserable. I keep thinking about how it was when we were ‘together’ and how stupidly I acted. We were good together. I opened up to you more than I have to 99% of the people I know, and you did the same to me. I loved being with you— it wasn’t just about the sex— and I knew you felt the same way, but I froze up at the possibility of being your girlfriend. So I kept replaying everything that happened between us from the first day to the last, trying to make sense of it all and it was exhausting. A year feels like so long, but at the same time it feels like no time has passed at all.”

You were right about that. Standing in front of you now, it seems like he just saw you yesterday. He’s reminded of the last time he saw you in person, your head on his lap as he asked you out to dinner, beaming up at him as you spoke the magic words to him. “I did feel the same way. Truthfully, I liked you after our first night together and things just got better and better from there. I had so much hope. You seemed so happy with me, which made it hurt so much worse when you turned me down.” His eyes never leave the ground as he speaks.

He doesn’t see how your eyebrows crease. “I was happy! I was the happiest I’ve been in a long time when I was with you, but-“ You trail off with a shake of your head, biting your lip when you can’t think of the right words. “Jimin, I’m so sorry I hurt you. It really is all my fault.”

“But what? Would dating me really make that much of a difference?” You were basically a couple already, he doesn’t see what the problem could have been. He refuses to believe that you simply didn’t like him enough. Yet, a cold chill climbs up his limbs at the thought.

“No.” His eyes connect with yours and it’s your turn to look away.

“Then why did-“ He doesn’t even need to finish his question before you’re shaking your head.

“Because I was scared. Like I said, I’m a coward.” Jimin hates when you put yourself down like that. Hates to see you look so guilty even though he knows you probably should.

There’s a long pause.

“Then were you ever going to give me an answer?” Quietly, the words slip past his lips before he can even think about them. They float over to you and dance around your head as if taunting you. If Jin was truly the obstacle of your relationship, you both could have just asked him. No, Jimin isn’t asking you if you were willing to risk Jin’s comfort to be with him. He was asking you if you shared his feelings. If you wanted to be with him. And the answer isn’t as straightforward as he would have liked.

“I typed out an answer to you so many times, but I couldn’t send it. I’m sorry I waited so long to talk to you, but the more I looked at my words the more uncertain I got and eventually I felt like you wouldn’t want to hear from me at all. I really am sorry, Jimin.”

Finding his eyes again, you see Jimin stiffen. He looks tired almost, as if exhausted by his own worries and thoughts, and you sag when you notice this.

“What would you have said?” His words come louder than his previous ones, though they seem much more fragile. He blinks at you, watching your chest heave for breath at the question. Dread fills his stomach like a heavy stone in his gut.

“I like you a lot, Jimin, I do. But-“

Without a second thought, he spins on his heel and walks back toward the party, leaving you stunned with a gaping mouth. His heart twists painfully as he paces away from you, weaving his way through the crowd and toward the door. It’s one thing to worry and think the worst, but Jimin has been clinging onto that one shred of hope, and hearing you confirm his fears out loud would be the worst heartbreak. Your rejection would sicken him and he had no intention of crying in front of you or at a holiday party filled with his friends, so he made the split decision to leave.

He should have never come. He would’ve happily stayed in blissful ignorance for another year instead of having to experience this. This pain is the worst.

He can tell you’ve started to follow behind him but he doesn’t care. Swooping past the pile of coats on one of the couches and picking his from the top, slinging it across his body as he pushes open the door. The cold winter air bites at his nose as he pushes on toward his car, sniffling from both the weather and the emotions stuck in his throat. Soon, he hears your footsteps behind him, heeled boots clicking on the frozen pavement as you scurry after him. He doesn’t even look back.

“Jimin, wait-“ How childish of him to run off like this, you must be thinking, and he listens to your hurried steps with a frown as he imagines the pout on your lips and distress in your eyes. “I- Ah!”

Your dramatic gasp and the sound of your body hitting the concrete is enough to stop him. And his body reacts on instinct.

Whipping around he sees you wincing on the cold ground, cradling your ankle with one hand, and suddenly he’s rushing back over to you. You move to stand, attempting a tentative step forward, and Jimin reaches you just in time as you collapse again and fall forward into his arms.

“Jimin, that’s not what I meant-“

“Did you hurt your ankle?” He cuts you off, focused solely on the foot you hold limply above the ground.

“I-“ Noticing that he won’t meet your eyes, you relent, cheeks burning. “Y-Yeah.” The sidewalk is cracked and uneven where you stand, your heels likely stepping right into the crack and causing your twisted ankle. He clicks his tongue.

Any logical person might have taken you back into the party where the host, your friend, would surely be able to help. But instead he scoops you up into his arms princess style and continues down the path toward his car. You say nothing, simply looking at his side profile as he walks. Jimin refuses to look at you even with his arms wrapped around your body, feeling a distinct warmth not only from your body pressed to his, but also from your unyielding gaze. It’s almost as if you are studying every inch of his face, awed by the sight as though you missed it. As if you missed him. His face heats uncomfortably but he ignores it, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead until you reach his vehicle.

Opening the back door, he sets you inside, well aware of your momentary surprise when he slides in next to you and shuts the door. Holding out his hand, he waits for you to get the message, and slowly you raise your leg up until your ankle rests in his lap. The silence is tense. The enclosed space is only slightly warmer than the whipping wind and bitter cold outside, but currently neither of you are sure which you would prefer more. He removes your boot with some difficulty but takes care not to hurt you, reaching down to slip off the other and note the difference in size. Your ankle has begun swelling a bit, though the damage is minimal likely because of the cold. Your mouth opens with unspoken words, he can see this from his peripheral, but you end up closing it again without a sound.

The leather of his seats crinkle when you shift and the noise feels far too loud. His car smells of the air freshener he’s placed somewhere, a woody and spicy scent that reminds you of cuddles by a warm fireplace— the smell calming you somewhat as you allow him to continue his examination. As gently as he can, Jimin pokes at your ankle around the swollen area, pressing one finger over a spot that makes you hiss, and finally his eyes snap up to yours.

“What are you doing?” His eyes flicker away from you again at the question.

“I’m checking your ankle, it seems a little swollen-“

“No- what are you doing? Why did you walk away from me? Why did you bring me to your car?”

If he had an answer for you, surely he would give it, but he’s trying to figure all of those things out himself. What was his goal? Did he subconsciously want to talk to you somewhere away from the party, in a place where he was comfortable, that he could control? He thought he didn’t want to hear what you had to say, but here you are, alone with him again.

“I don’t know.” He answers lamely. “Did you walk here? I know you don’t live far— I can give you a ride home if you want.”

“I don’t want a ride home, I want you to listen to me!” At the raise of your voice everything stops. It even seems like the wind outside has paused. You weren’t angry, you were tired of him ignoring you when he hadn’t even given you the chance to explain yourself. You bring your voice back down when he drops his hands. “Could you listen to me? Please.”

“... Okay.” Like a child, he sits stiffly with his hands folded and fidgeting, body half turned toward you, but you take that as sign enough to start.

“You asked me what I would have said to you in my message. You didn’t let me finish.” He swallows at your irritated tone, but it softens when you take a deep breath. “I was saying that I really do like you Jimin, but I just didn’t realize how much I liked you until I had already ruined things. I would have said that I’d love to date you, that hearing you ask me out was the happiest moment I’ve had in a long time— but I kept doubting myself. I’m so afraid that I’ll disappoint you. That we’ll start dating and just when I’m finally happy you’ll realize I’m not everything you thought I was and leave me. I’ve had some really bad relationships in the past and I felt like they’d come back to haunt me and you’d realize how damaged I am and get fed up because I’m not sensitive enough or too paranoid or too... broken.”

“(Y/n),” Seeing you so insecure like this hurts his heart. His hand returns to your leg. “I already know about your past relationships and trauma. You told me about it all and I still asked you out after I knew. I would never think that way about you.”

“I know you wouldn’t, that’s one of the reasons I fell so hard for you. That’s why it’s called an irrational fear. Even though I knew this, I still panicked when you asked me out and all of those thoughts came flooding in. And when Jin made the comment about his friends dating... I guess I was looking for an out. You did absolutely nothing wrong, but I pushed you away because I couldn’t handle the thought that you would want me, of all people.” You mumble your last sentence, but he hears you loud and clear. “I’m sorry, I do some pretty stupid things when I’m in love.”

When you’re in love?

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a long while, shocked into silence by your last statement. It’s a lot to take in, he’s just gone from believing you were about to rip his heart out and reject him, to hearing you say that you’re in love with him.

“So... what does this mean for us?” He hears himself ask, not conscious of his mouth moving to produce the words.

“I-If the offer still stands, I’d really like to date you. That is, if I didn’t already screw everything up and you still have feelings for me.” Your eyes looks so innocent when you look at him. You are usually fairly stoic, eyes betraying little emotion except for when you’re extremely happy or flirting— this is one of the few times he’s gotten to see this side of you. Being vulnerable is something you struggle with, it’s rare for you to be in this type of position where someone else holds your fate, your heart, in their hands.

He can’t hold back the small smile that makes its way onto his face, meeting your eyes without any apprehension this time. “You didn’t screw anything up, (Y/n).” He doesn’t say anything more after you return his smile, he simply exits the car and rounds the front to the drivers seat. The air shifts and it’s no longer as suffocatingly tense as it was moments prior, much to your relief.

The ride to his home is quiet, you don’t dare speak or look out the window for the entirety of the trip because you’re so focused on the back of his seat and the glimpse of his face you can catch whenever he shifts. He’s fairly certain you’re trying to figure out what exactly is running through his mind right now— and so is he, honestly— but you won’t ask him yet. He hasn’t really given you a proper response, you can only hope that his comment meant that he holds no ill feelings toward you and would also like the chance to date you, but you hate assuming. Your pride has your questions caught in your throat, though.

You seem a bit startled when he parks in front of his building. He answers your curious gaze with the excuse that he can better take care of your injury here and insists that you stay the night since it’s already so late. Cheeks burning, Jimin tries to ignore the small chuckle you let out when he stammers, his arm wrapping around you to help you out of his car. He takes revenge on you, however, as he lifts you back into his arms like before, not even allowing you to place your feet on the ground as he walks into the apartment complex despite your complaints, smirking slyly when your face colors the same as his at the odd looks you receive from the other passengers of the elevator.

He puts you down only when you reach the couch inside his apartment, setting you gently on the soft cushions and offering to take your coat from your shoulders. He hadn’t even asked if you had all of your belongings from Jin’s house before he impulsively drove you here, something that he apologizes profusely for, though you wave him off and assure him that you only brought your coat and the things you could fit in its pockets with you.

Not knowing what else to say, Jimin stands in front of you for several long seconds as you look up at him with soft eyes. He’s caught now, forgetting everything that he was doing as he looks back at you sitting so prettily on his couch. That look you have in your eyes is the same one that gave him enough courage to ask you out months ago, your irises nearly sparkling even in the dull lighting of his living room. It takes his breath away and he is momentarily stunned, frozen in place with a heart that beats out of his chest. What was he even supposed to be doing? Your coat is in his hands and he fiddles with it, trying to remember where he wanted to put it before you blindsided him with those beautiful eyes. Ah, yes. The coat closet. Blinking, you take note of how he shifts from one foot, then the other, before clearing his throat.

“I’ll be right back.” Jimin turns from you immediately as he feels his cheeks start to color pink. It feels heavy, having all of those wilting and withering emotions come slamming back down on him with just one look. He’s dazed as he hangs both of your coats in his closet, picking up compression bandages and scissors from his first aid kit then swinging past his kitchen to retrieve an ice pack for you.

When he returns he sees you still seated rather uncomfortably on his sofa, body tense and on the very edge of the seat. You were never this awkward in his home before, even during your first time here— granted, you did spend the first few hours naked in his bedroom, eliminating most of the discomfort you’d feel when he decided to give you a tour of the rest of the place afterward. But Jimin somewhat expected that you would settle right in even though things have changed since the last time you were here. Guess not.

“You can get comfortable, you know. You don’t have to act like a stranger.” He tries to laugh but it comes out a bit dry, the pull on his lips looking a bit forced. And it hits him then that he’s the one that’s nervous. While you seem to be trying your hardest to be polite, he’s actually the one that feels pressured. Swallowing hard, he takes a seat next to you and lifts your injured foot onto his lap again, this time feeling hyper aware of where your body touches his. His hands shake the entire time he wraps your ankle and he’s sure you’ve noticed by how intensely you stare as he works. It’s embarrassing to say the least, but he can’t seem to calm himself. Not when you’re so close to him again and especially not now that he knows how you truly feel about him. So, reluctantly, he removes your legs from him once he’s finished and sets up some pillows over the armrest for you to elevate your foot and places the ice pack on your ankle. “So, um, do you wanna watch a movie or something?”

*** *** ***

One thing Jimin has always found endearing about you is how quickly you tend to fall asleep once relaxed enough. The movie is little over halfway through when he sees your head nodding beside him, catching him by surprise when you lean over to rest it on his shoulder. He shifted you to lay against his strong thigh so you can get more comfortable, and now he’s completely forgotten about the movie as he watches you sleep peacefully against him. Staring down at you like this has all of his worries slipping away, your words from earlier finally sinking in and allowing him to finally react. This was all he ever wanted, you to give him a chance and reciprocate his feelings, and now that it’s happening it doesn’t quite feel real. But you are very real. He confirms this by caressing his thumb over your cheek, planting a soft kiss on your forehead that makes your eyes flutter open.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He whispers sheepishly, but you simply shake your head.

“No, it’s okay.” You stretch but don’t bother to move away from him. You’re far too tired for awkwardness and would much rather return to normalcy with him.

“How’s your ankle?” He asks gently, glancing at where it remains propped up at the end of the couch.

“Mm, a little sore,” He frowns at that, feeling guilty. “But it’s not that bad! I’m fine, really.”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“No it isn’t, it’s my fault for not looking where I was going.”

“But you wouldn’t have needed to watch where you were going if I didn’t storm away from you like that.”

You let out a heavy sigh at this. “Just drop it, okay? It’s really not that big of a deal, I’ll be back to normal in a few days.” You turn your head toward the tv to take in what was happening on the screen, allowing the noise of the movie to fill the quiet that falls between you two.

“I won’t do that again.” Jimin states quietly, playing with the hair at the very top of your head. “In the future, I won’t walk away from you until we work things out like adults. You didn’t deserve that tonight.” Something about how he says this makes your heart stutter. You turn back around slowly, lips parted as you look up at him.

“In the future? As in, you want to have a future with me?” Realizing how that sounds, you quickly try to backtrack as you sit upright with a wave of your hands. “I mean in the near future, not like you want a future with me like we’re getting married or something! You know what I meant, right? I wasn’t implying that... y-yeah.“ At the amused look on his face, you stop, closing your mouth before you make an even bigger fool of yourself. You’re never like this around him. You never used to fumble for words or feel the need to explain yourself like you do now, but suddenly the pounding of your heart has you tongue tied and jittery. Your nervousness makes Jimin feel a little bolder.

“Yes, (Y/n). In both the near and far future, I’ll always treat you with respect. You’ve had it hard. I want to be the one to show you that relationships can be good— that you can trust me to respect you as a person and can put your faith in me. So yes, I want there to be a future.” You blink at him and he has to laugh at the dumbfounded look on your face.

“...Does this mean you’ll give me a chance and date me?” He nods. “You’re not upset? I left you waiting unanswered for months, I would’ve thought you would at least need some time to... reconsider?”

“What’s there to reconsider? My feelings for you are just as strong as the last time I saw you, (Y/n), that hasn’t changed.” Your eyes drop to where his hand lands on your thigh, making you gulp. “We wasted enough time not being together this year, what’s the point in wasting another second? Sure, I was hurt before tonight, but hearing you explain everything so openly to me made me happier than you can imagine. I want you to go out with me. I want you to see how much I care about you and know how far I’ll go to make you happy, and fall for me just like I’ve fallen for you.”

He seems resolute when he says this, serious but sweet all the same, and now it’s your turn to be shocked and dazed by how honest he’s being at the moment. This must have been how he felt earlier, unable to say the right words or relax his body even after your reassurance. You want to tell him that what he said is pretty silly. Silly because you already fell for him without even realizing it and there’s little else he needs to do to prove himself in your eyes. Unable to vocalize all of this, you simply move closer to him until you’re face to face. His hands come to softly rest on your waist out of habit, stabilizing you as you slowly rise on your knees and lean into his lips, kissing them innocently to convey what you feel.

As soon as your lips find his, chills shoot throughout his body. God, he’s missed your lips. Missed the way you smile into the kiss when he presses deeper and pulls you closer with his insistent hands. You tell him everything he needs to know with every movement you make, your hands snaking up from his chest to his neck where they twine loosely in the hair at the back of his head. His breath hitches when you throw a leg over his hips to straddle him, your dress riding up your thighs until it bunches around your hips. You pull away from his mouth, panting and grinning in his lap.

“Okay.” You nod, accepting him.

“Okay?” He raises an eyebrow and you smile.

“Yes. I want that, too.” He allows you to press into him again, his back molding into the cushions of the seat as you rest your weight on him fully.

“Good.” You can see he’s trying not to look overly excited by this because he’s biting his lips hard to contain his smile, but his eyes betray his happiness to you. When he sees you smiling at him, he buries his face in your neck, leaving playful butterfly kisses that flutter ticklishly against the skin of your neck, chest, and shoulders causing you to giggle.

“Jimin stop, that tickles!” You squeal, halfheartedly squirming to get away, but he has his hands tight on your hips to keep you in place. Giggling at your playfulness, he lets his lips linger just a little longer with each peck, stealing licks and nibbles every so often until he trails his way back up to your lips. His fingers slide down to press into the smooth skin of your exposed thighs, wanting but not pushy even as the kisses become hungrier.

You didn’t intend on your make out session turning into anything more, but the atmosphere quickly shifts in that direction as soon as your hips start to roll against his. As soon as your crotch meets his, Jimin bucks into you slightly and you let out a mewl into his mouth, grabbing a fistful of his hair. He feels your body start to heat when he slips his tongue into your mouth, exploring you in sync with the rolls of you hips. Just having you close to him again has his body reacting and he’s sure you can feel him hardening in his slacks, light hisses leaving him whenever you catch his tip against your thigh or pull at his roots, tugging his head back to you every time he tries to pull away to gasp. A wet patch seeps into his briefs beneath your expert hips, ruining his slacks from the inside while you ruin them from the outside with the wetness you drip from your panties.

Jimin’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your dress, breaking from you shortly to silently ask your permission, and once you nod he delicately removes the clothing item before tossing it to the other side of the sofa. Taking it further, he pulls down the cups of your bra to expose your breasts to him, gently rubbing his thumbs over your sensitive nipples.

“So pretty,” He whispers, bending down to take one into his mouth, sucking the bud as you hump against him faster. Your fingers, still wound in his hair, keep him steady at your chest, tiny whimpers leaving your lips at each flick of his tongue and graze of his teeth against your pert nipple. He works around your tits just how you like it, having learned exactly what makes you mewl from the many times he’s found himself in your bed. Your chest is glossy by the time you peel him away, the pressure in your core no longer satisfied by your grinding, and he gives you a questioning look when you move to stand in front of him with your hands on the button of his slacks. Completely forgetting about your ankle, your leg gives as soon as you put pressure on the bad foot and Jimin catches you swiftly, flipping you so that you now lay against the cushions with him kneeling in front of you. “Be careful,” He scolds lightly, trailing kisses up your thighs.

“You don’t want me to give you the ‘sloppy-toppy pepper grinder 9000’?” He snorts at your puppy eyes, pulling down your panties with a shake of his head.

“Not today,” The pecks he leaves up your inner thighs have goosebumps prickling your skin.

“But you love the ‘sloppy-toppy pepper grinder 9000’!” Your pout becomes more prominent when he spreads your legs further apart, anticipation building exponentially in your gut.

“Please stop calling it that,” Jimin laughs, eyes squinting cutely at you. “Tonight I wanna show you how much I missed you. Just relax, baby, let me take care of you.” He doesn’t give you time for a rebuttal, diving down to lick up the arousal that dribbles down your folds, following the trail up with his tongue until he reaches your clit with a flick. You moan immediately and he’s almost surprised by your sensitivity, concealing a small smirk by dipping down to do it again.

His fingers part your lower lips, allowing him to press his tongue more firmly on your bud, and it’s all you can do not to shriek at the bolts of pleasure it sends up your spine. It’s like he’s injected lava into your veins, heat spreading all throughout your body and pooling in your core with every eager swipe of his tongue against your bud, setting your nerves alight. Jimin has always shown enthusiasm for oral— you remember one night in particular where he pinned you down and wouldn’t let up until you were begging and crying for him to stop as your 5th orgasm of the night washed over you— but this is something different entirely. His movements are slow and deliberate, sensual patterns drawn against your most intimate areas to build you up slowly but steadily, focused solely on your throbbing clit that practically begs for his attention. He has his eyes locked on yours the entire time, watching every emotion that flickers across your features and noting what brings you the most pleasure, although he already knows from experience.

“Mmh,” He growls into you as you continue to drip for him. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, your essence coating his cheeks and chin messily. It smears against his lips when you start to rock into him, moaning lewdly in tandem with your movements and holding onto the back of his head for leverage. He really doesn’t mind how you hold his face so tightly to your center. The heat from your core and thighs give his cheeks a delightful flush but he doesn’t pull away for a second, instead using his lips to suck on your pearl until your legs quiver around him. One of his hands drops down to palm at the ever increasing tent in his pants, his dick already at full hardness and twitching impatiently for the chance to be inside you. Just thinking about being inside your wet heat again makes his eyes roll— fuck, he needs to calm down before he cums in his pants. But he can’t help but shift his hips in search of friction when two of his fingers enter you with no resistance, slipping in to the knuckle because of the copious amounts of fluids you leak. It’s easy to find your spot, and when he does your back arches from the chair.

“Fuck, Jimin, I’m close.” You gasp out, tossing your head back as you rub yourself against his face more forcefully.

“Already?” He mumbles against you, the words muffled because he refuses to pull away, but the vibrations of his voice go straight through you. All you can offer is a needy whine to him but it’s more than enough for him to double his efforts. He pushes at your thigh to open you again, then flattens his wet muscle over your clit, using his whole mouth to please you with broad licks that make your toes curl. He can feel your walls clenching around his fingers as he strokes at your spot, pulsing synchronously with the bud against his tongue, and he catches the most beautiful look take over your face as he brings you to climax.

Your skin flushes as the high overtakes you, mouth parted to let out the cutest moans and curses mixed with his name, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows scrunched together as wave after wave crashes down on you. His name has never sounded better to him as it falls from your pretty lips on repeat, drowning out the squelch of your wetness as he fingers you through your bliss. Feeling you pulsate around him is a feeling he’ll never get tired of, but he’d much rather feel you throb around his cock instead of his fingers, his hips bucking up into the air in anticipation.

“So fucking sexy,” Jimin groans, obsessed with the way your hips squirm when it becomes too much. His wet lips press kisses down your trembling leg as you catch your breath, ending with your tender ankle that he babies apologetically.

“Holy shit.” You finally find it within yourself to whisper, melting into the couch beneath you.

“You okay? I’ve never seen you cum that hard before.” He isn’t teasing when he says this, but your cheeks heat up regardless, averting your eyes away from his gentle gaze.

“I haven’t slept with anyone since you, so I’m a little hypersensitive now.” It’s been months since anyone has touched you. Truthfully, it wasn’t only because you felt bad because of your silence toward Jimin, but that certainly played a part in it. Even still, you don’t like how his face morphs into shock as if there’s a horn growing out of your forehead. “Stop looking at me like that!”

“Oh, no it’s just- I haven’t been with anyone else either...” He didn’t like to think about it, but he assumed that you were getting your needs fulfilled by someone else after you had stopped talking to him. Knowing you hadn’t been with anyone else makes an odd relief come over him. Now he’s blushing too and you still can’t look at him, but he climbs up your body to kiss you anyway, easing your momentary shyness. The kiss reignites your desire and suddenly he feels your hands tugging at his zipper, working to free his member from his confinement. He takes this time to remove his own shirt, unclipping your bra and tossing it into the pile of clothes that now sits at the end of his couch as you yank down his slacks and briefs in one go.

His length springs free before you, the sight pulling a whimper from your lips. It’s the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen, thick and long and smooth in all the right places, and it never fails to make you gush every time you see it. You can practically feel it inside you already and you can’t wait another minute, wrapping your warm fingers around the base and stroking drips of precum from the tip. Jimin groans with a bite of his lip, removing your hands from him and leaning away.

“Turn over for me.” He instructs, gripping himself as he watches you spin onto your knees with your arms draped over the back of the couch. You look back at him with flirtatious eyes, wiggling your ass at him to entice him into action. A smack lands on one of your cheeks, the flesh jiggling from its force and you hear a sharp inhale behind you. “Comfortable?”

Always the gentleman, he always checks to make sure you’re okay. But you’re far beyond that point, seconds away from grabbing him and pushing him into you yourself.

“Yes, now please fuck me already, I’m going insane.” He snickers at the way you push back toward him, hole searching for his length blindly as sweat accumulates on your back.

“Anything for you, babe.” Fingers collecting your dripping essence, Jimin takes the time to spread your lubricant over himself, allowing you to hear the slick noise and his heavy breaths as you wait on quivering knees. After what feels like an eternity, you finally feel him drag his hot tip through your folds, tapping the weight against you until you’re just about ready to crack. But just as you take in a breath to scold him, he pushes in to the hilt and forces a groan from you.

The intrusion is tight. He almost goes cross-eyed at how tightly you squeeze him upon entry, and he’s awed into silence at the way your velvet repeatedly clenches and relaxes as you try to adjust. At least he thinks you’re trying to adjust, until he brings his fingers down to your clit and starts rubbing, only for the clenching to get more intense.

“Is that okay?” He asks, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your back.

“It’s amazing,” You nearly sob, rocking back into him. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”

Before you’re even finished your sentence he’s pulling back, leaving you completely empty except for his tip before thrusting forward. You both moan at the movement and he starts a fairly quick pace, standing erect and gripping your hips securely. Just like the first time he had you, you steal his breath away. It’s addicting, the way he glides in so easily with the thick coating of arousal you cover him in, and he wonders how the hell he lasted months without you. He thrusts deep, giving you every inch and loving the curses and whimpers you let out.

“Shit baby, just like that.” You gasp, digging your nails into the top of the sofa at the pleasure. The arch in your back deepens when he hits your spot, and you involuntarily clench around him, goosebumps crawling up your skin when the tightness pulls a deep groan from him. His cock is the perfect shape, the perfect length for you, and he touches places within you that you can never reach on your own. Every snap of his hips is precise, intended to give you the utmost pleasure because Jimin simply adores seeing you fall apart for him, but there’s something else tonight. Passion. You can feel it in the way his hands roam your body freely, tracing over your curves and caressing you with a tenderness that you haven’t felt before from anyone. His thumbs massage the dimples in your back even as he rams into you, dipping down to line your shoulder blades in sloppy kisses.

“Fuck (Y/n), I missed you so much.” Jimin rasps, sucking a hickey into the side of your neck as he changes his pace to a swivel of his hips. “Missed our long talks, missed your laugh, those cute little moans— mmh— and I especially missed fucking this tight, wet pussy.”

“Yeah?” You try to sound a little cocky, but that’s ruined by the shakiness of your voice. He still has your legs shaking even with the delicate strokes he now delivers, and you have to rest your forehead on the back of the couch to catch your breath.

“I can’t tell you how much I thought about you these past few months. I drove myself crazy wondering if I’d get to see you again.” His voice drops an octave when you squeeze at his words, your walls fluttering along with your heart.

“S-sorry,”

“Stop apologizing, at least I get to have you now.” And have you he does. Whether he knows it or not, he owns your body and heart already and there’s no going back now. Nodding, you start to rock backwards against him, fucking yourself on his cock. He stops moving to let you work, biting down on your shoulder at the feeling as you spread your legs wider to get more leverage. His moans and grunts spur you on, wordless encouragement as you render him speechless with your hips. If he wouldn’t let you use your mouth on him, the least you could do is take some of the work off his hands to pay him back. If it wasn’t for your bum ankle you’d be riding him off into the sunset right now, but you settle for working hard on pleasuring him like this.

His hands aid your movements, pulling you back onto him as you feel the light layer of sweat smear on your shoulder when he rests his forehead against it. One of his hands inches toward your midsection, pressing down slightly to feel the bulge of his tip as it slips in and out of you, pulling a desperate moan from you. The pressure around his member increases from the external force and he moans alongside you, the sweet sound breathed right next to your ear and traveling straight to your core.

“I’m- I’m close again.” You hiccup, faltering in your motions.

Without a word, Jimin pulls out of you, ignoring your whine to move you onto your back swiftly. He situates himself between your open legs, smirking at how they tremble on either side of him as he lines himself up and pushes back into you. At your gasp he steals a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth and savoring the taste of your moans. He drops down to his elbows but you pull him closer until all of his weight rests on top of you, even if it causes his thrusts to be less efficient. When he pulls away for air, he smiles down at you.

“Hi,”

“Hi.” You return, brushing some hair away from his eyes.

“I just wanted you to face me so I could watch you cum again.” Jimin explains cheekily, proud of the blush he pulls from your cheeks.

“Then make me cum.” He doesn’t need to be told twice. Swooping down for another kiss, his hand immediately slithers between your body to reach for your clit, pressing into it with his fingers as his hips pick up speed. You’re confused at first when his hand doesn’t move, your pearl throbbing beneath him, but it’s soon forgotten when he touches your g-spot again and makes you see stars.

Your orgasm builds up with every hard stroke of his, and when your legs move up to wrap around him he hits so much deeper. A knot is forming in his own belly from looking at you, watching you struggle to keep your eyes open and on him as you tug on his scalp. The sparks of pain only add to the almost overwhelming pleasure of being inside you, and Jimin has to focus hard to avoid cumming before you. He grits his teeth as he fucks you harder, reveling in the music of your squelching wetness and the slap of your skin, keeping the rhythm steady to please you. Your hands leave his hair as the pleasure mounts. They grapple at anything around you as you start to lose control, grabbing at the cushions beneath you, scratching down his back, holding onto your own legs, until they finally settle on the firm muscles of his ass, urging him on.

Then he feels it. The steady clamp of your cunt that tells him quite clearly that you’re ready.

Shifting his fingers to swipe a glob of your arousal, Jimin begins rubbing into your clit vigorously, holding his position solidly above you when your body jolts from the sensation. You feel as if he’s rubbing a fireball into your core, heating you up until you’re panting and sweating and just about ready to combust. He’s assaulting you from all sides, battering your g-spot, attacking your clit with his nimble fingers, and sucking at your stiffened nipples; the onslaught of bliss sending you head-first into a breathtaking orgasm.

Looking up at you through lidded eyes, Jimin feels like he’s flying. You look completely enveloped in bliss, pride swelling in his chest as you call out his name and pull him closer until there’s no space between you. Feeling you cum around him is his favorite feeling, he loves the erratic spasms of your inner muscles, how the rest of your body tenses around him, the uncontrollable jump of your hips as he works you through it all with slow fingers until you try to squeeze your legs shut around his body and he takes pity on your whimpering. It feels so good you could cry, and there’s nothing he loves more than the watery eyed smile you give him when you finally peek your eyes open to stare up at him.

His heart clenches as he looks down at you, racing for a reason unrelated to the vigorous movements of his hips. Seeing you like this, with stars in your eyes and soft adoration for him, has him hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You stroke his hair and continue to clench around him, whispering dirty words to push him over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna cum,” Jimin grunts, the crease between his eyebrows growing.

“That’s it, baby,” You drawl as you suck your own love marks into his skin. “Cum for me.”

With a strained groan, Jimin pulls out of you and rubs himself against your lower abdomen, shivering when you drop down a hand to stroke him until white ribbons coat your stomach. There’s a lot of cum and it makes a mess all over you, yet you enjoy every drop, savoring the quivering moans from the man above you. When he’s finished, you release him and reach for his face, bringing him down for a searing kiss.

You don’t know how long you kiss him like that, but you do know that he breaks away all too soon, pushing himself up off the couch to gaze upon his artwork. He lets out a growl of approval, to which you laugh and throw one a pillow at him.

“Pervert.”

“What? I didn’t even say anything!” He snickers on his way out of the room, returning with a wet washcloth to clean you with. His touch is so gentle that you could fall asleep right there, but you force yourself to stay awake to bask in the moment. It’s then that you realize the tv is still on, the movie you had been watching having ended long ago. You reach for the remote and turn off the screen, watching instead as Jimin busies himself with tidying the room. He reaches for you when he deems it good enough, all of your clothes folded at the other end of the couch and his cushions clean of any bodily fluids, and this time when he lifts you into his arms you allow it.

After helping you to the bathroom and making sure you didn’t fall or walk on your injured foot, he rests you on his bed gently and tosses you one of his shirts, slipping on a new pair of boxers for himself. As soon as his warmth enters the bed with you, your entire body relaxes. Cuddling after sex hadn’t always been your thing, but it became routine a few months after seeing Jimin. He couldn’t resist and you couldn’t say no and now it comes almost automatically. He lets you wrap your arms around his midsection and rest your head on his beating heart, his own arm slung around your waist. These moments, these quiet moments where the silence is comfortable and simply feeling your skin is enough, are what he missed the most. He’s never wanted this kind of intimacy with anyone else. Never craved to hug anyone and never let go until he met you. No one has ever occupied his thoughts like this, made him slightly irrational or scared him as much as you do— he’s never been scared to lose someone before he was faced with that situation with you. Jimin is certain he’s never been in love before, therefore he has no idea what it feels like, but now he’s starting to wonder if this is it. The thought is equal parts terrifying and comforting and all he can do is hold you closer.

A chuckle from you draws his attention to the silly smirk on your face, and he just knows you’re about to say something stupid.

“So, you missed this gorilla grip pussy?” Of course you would say something like that. You’re the only person he knows who would say that to someone in seriousness— just like how you came up with that foolish name for a blowjob. But it’s one of your many charms. He stifles a laugh knowing it would only encourage you, but you catch the rise of his cheeks and laugh anyway.

“Ugh, why do I even put up with you?” He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Because of this gorilla grip pussy.” You state as though it were obvious, clinging to him as he lightheartedly tries to push you off.

“God, I missed your goofy ass.” His lips find your forehead and your snuggle deeper into his chest.

“And my-“

“Please, don’t say it again.” Jimin stops you with a wrinkle of his nose, pulling the sheets higher up your bodies. “But yes, I missed that too.” Your giggles settle down after a few seconds and then the mood shifts to something a bit more serious. “(Y/n).”

“Hmm?” You hum, closing your eyes.

“Never think you aren’t good enough. Your past doesn’t define your future and just because a few people treated you poorly in the past doesn’t mean that you’re unworthy of love. You may think that what you went through makes you undesirable, but in my eyes it makes you look incredibly strong. And you’re even stronger to be able to share your experiences with me and open yourself up after all that’s happened. I want you to know that I will never fault you for the shitty things other people have done, and I will spend every day showing you just how amazing you are to me, if you’ll let me.”

You don’t open your eyes as he speaks, afraid that the tears that have been welling up will spill over if you open them. Hearing him say this means the world to you and you’re inclined to believe every word. These are the kinds of things he would say to you when you were still just fuck buddies. He always listened with empathy and took the time reassuring you that nothing you went through was your fault, yet you still doubted him when he showed interest in dating you. Looking back on it, you feel silly. How could you ever doubt such a genuine man, who has never taken advantage of you even once when you poured your heart out to him, who is so understanding and caring that you feel instantly at ease when talking to him? Jimin is everything you ever wanted, and for once your heart and brain can agree to let yourself be happy.

“Thank you, Jimin.” You sniffle, leaning into the hand that now strokes through your hair as his words replay in your mind. You don’t like getting emotional, so you try to dispel it by using humor. “If you truly mean it then get ready, I only get goofier from here.”

He giggles. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Oh it is, trust me.”

“I do.” The seriousness of his tone has you glancing up at him, suddenly overwhelmed by the affection in his eyes. You clear your throat, feeling a blush creep up your neck so you look away. “So will you let me take you out tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the sooner the better. We could go out for breakfast.” His smile is blinding and your blush deepens. You’re not used to getting shy, but Jimin seems to bring it out of you.

“Brunch. I have a feeling we’ll be sleeping in.” Glancing at the clock, you note how late it is, well past midnight and any other reasonable bedtime. That doesn’t seem to matter, however, because you will probably spend all night laying awake from the excitement of what will come tomorrow— and the day after, and the day after that. Your months of worrying have finally come to an end and this feels like a brand new start. You have no idea what it’ll be like to date Jimin, but the promise of it all is too much to bear. The smile doesn’t leave your face for the rest of the night, not even as you fall asleep.

“Brunch it is.”

#Jimin smut #Jimin angst #bcccse #btscreatorscorner #ksmutclub #clubjimin #ficswithluv

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m1d-w1nter · 3 years

Text

Our revenge

SUMMARY: sometimes love isn’t meant to be, tommy shelby x fem reader

{masterlist}

The night was so long gone by now that a new day was already threatening to emerge. It was still late enough, however, for the world around you to be nothing but a hazy blackness, broken only by the delicate moonlight that had managed to pierce through the trees. The forest air was as silent as the dead, the gentle breeze their final and defeated breath, and beneath your bare feet the mud was thick and cool, squishing like soft clay between your toes.

Someone was approaching from behind, the crack of the undergrowth and quiet breathing making its way towards you. You were always told to be on your guard if you strayed this far away from camp, but there was only one person that could possibly be approaching you. Even after all these years you still recognised Tommy Shelby by the sound of his footsteps. “Kushti divvus.” You murmured gently in acknowledgement of his arrival, the words so quiet they were likely to be carried away into the night. He would hear every word though. It was a talent of his- one that scared you- to always hear every word you spoke, even if they’d not yet even left your lips. “You left.” He replied bluntly, voice low and velvety, seeping through your body with power enough to make you weak at the knees. You weren’t surprised he’d noticed you leaving, and somewhere within you the girl you’d once been was even hurt that it had taken him this long to follow. You had wandered away from camp hours ago, seeking solitude within the woods and finding it in a small clearing. You hadn’t wanted to be there at all, anticipation for the evening making you sick all day, but your father had insisted that you were present at least to greet them. You’d given in to his demand, but the moment they all turned up and his eyes found yours, and years spent on burying emotions suddenly became wasted, you’d turned and fled.

Twigs began crackling again as he approached, the long shadow that he cast across the ground slowly coming to rest beside yours. You refused to look at him, but you could still make out his face in the corner of your eye, startling blue eyes gazing over you, lips pressed into a cold line. Tommy’s hand came up suddenly to your face, the pad of his thumb brushing beneath your eye and up onto your cheekbone in one long stroke. You snapped your head to the side to glare at him. “You’ve been crying,” he muttered, thumb still pressed against your face, “why?” “Xoxamno.” “I’m not lying,” Tommy said, moving his hand to let run it down the side of your head, smoothing your hair and capturing the base of your neck. “You have been crying.” You moved instinctively towards him, leaning into the touch of his hand and bringing your face closer to his, though managing to stop just before your foreheads could touch. You had longed for him for so long that the feeling had become a part of you, but it didn’t mean you wanted any of this. You were supposed to have forgotten him, to have let go and moved on. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. But Tommy Shelby never gave up on what was his, and you had always belonged to him; heart, soul and body held tightly in the palm of his hand. Let me go, Tom, you tried to plead, though those weren’t words that left your mouth. “I’ve missed you.” You breathed instead, one of your hands finding the fabric of his shirt and balling it within your fist. You clung to the fabric and pulled at it aggressively, angrier at him than you’d ever been in your life. It wasn’t fair that he could do this- that he could undo all that you’d worked at so desperately with just the brush of one thumb. You knew this was like a game for him, that he found pleasure in how easy it was for him to make you weak. To anyone else the pair of you were like stone, unbreakable and unmovable, but to each other you were nothing but soft words and gentle caresses. As you pulled at him, his body came closer, until you were pressed so close you might as well have been one. You face moved to the side to avoid any accidental collision, temple pressed to his cheek and the sound of his breathing in your ear. He took calm breaths, deep and slow, as though every step of this dance had been exactly to his planning. And it likely had been. Tommy’d had years to craft this moment, and with such a cruel possession over you it was as simple to make you follow in his movements as it was to make your heart beat only for him. You knew you wouldn’t sound so calm to him, that your breathing was scattered and pained- as if when you’d drawn him close he’d sent a knife through your stomach. You wouldn’t put it past him. Your mother had warned of the changes war would create, the scars it would leave, and that he was rumoured to be even deadlier than before. You’d shrugged her off, however, because it made no difference to you. Tommy had been your poison since the day you first met him, and if his method of murder was only more brutal than before- well, you welcomed it with open arms. It was only what you deserved. “Is this your revenge?” You whispered to him, hand releasing his shirt fabric and sliding up to play with his open collar. “‘Cause this is how you’ll kill me, Tom.” Whilst he kept one hand firmly on your neck, the other- previously stashed in his trouser pocket- now brushed over your waist and came to rest on your lower back, gripping firmly. You were painfully aware that you wore nothing but cotton combinations and a shawl half-draped over your shoulders, legs and arms bare and prickled with goosebumps. It didn’t really matter though- he’d seen you in much less. “I don’t want to fucking kill you,” he mumbled back, angry at your words, “I just want to hold you.” “You don’t get to do that anymore.” You spat with unexpected venom, slipping from his grasp and pushing him back. You’d always possessed a talent to read people’s faces with ease. From the emotions they revealed, to the ones they buried deep inside them, nothing was a secret from you. But standing in the dark, where it was impossible to fully make out Tommy’s face, you couldn’t decipher how he felt, and that made you nervous. You were at his mercy, whether or not he would choose to be merciful at all. Tommy took a step forward to approach you, but you took one back in response, your hand rising towards him in warning. “Why are you doing this?” He all but pleaded, the reflection of the night sky sparkling in his eyes like tears. “Why are you doing this?” You countered, “this isn’t supposed to happen again.” “Bullshit!” His voice rose up suddenly, but like a wave crashing on the beach he drew back in just as quickly, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. It had never been that short before, you noticed, glancing at the sides that were shaven thin. His hair had been thick the last time you’d seen him, when you’d run your hands through it and pulled him towards you to kiss him, tears running down your face and between your lips. He’d changed just as much as you had, you realised, and it was a painful thought. You knew things could never have been as they once were, but this seemed to confirm it. “What happened then means nothing now,” Tommy continued more softly, “I kept my promise, I came back-“ “And I told you not to.” You cut in, with a tone harsh enough to cut skin. The words stung you both as much as they had when they’d first been spoken, unforgivable and unforgettable- and yet Tommy seemed perfectly content in living an existence where you’d never hoped for his death. In this he had become the definition of naivety, though perhaps a romantic might describe it simply as love. He strode forwards in a few steps, seizing you before you had a chance to retreat again. One hand took grip of your bicep roughly, the other effortlessly capturing your flailing hands by the wrists, leaving you trapped before him. It was a terrifying display of power, proving that Tommy had the strength and the ability to do whatever he pleased. If he wanted, as he did now, it took only the slightest effort to have you pinned helplessly before him. But you knew not to be afraid. You’d learnt to never fear Tommy long ago, when he’d sworn he would let you kill him before he ever really hurt you. His standing here now gave enough proof to how religiously he kept his promises. He’d made his way through hell to be come back to you and heaven help whoever came between. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.” You continued, hoping scorned words might be enough to chase him off. “And yet I’m here anyway.” “To spite me?” You questioned. “To forgive you.” He replied. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, save it for someone who’ll take it.” Tommy shook his head and kissed your knuckles with the tenderness of a couple ten years married. “You deserve everything.” He said, staring into your eyes, “I’ll give you everything if you let me.” You recognised those words. He’d said them once before, in a lifetime long gone, on a cold afternoon when he’d ridden into camp on a black horse with the look of death in his eyes. They have no right to your life Tom, you had pleaded with him, they started this war, let them die in it. Begging, crying, kissing him until your lips were swollen and holding him with the threat of never letting go- it made no difference. And when that didn’t work you turned to hatred instead. You had hissed words made to frighten him- that you hoped he’d never come back and prayed the choice he was making was worth loosing you. But still he held you close, cradling you, kissing you and telling you he’d never loved anyone more in his life. Then he’d ruined everything by asking you to marry him. I’d rather burn in hell than be the widow of a man who dies a meaningless death, were the last words you’d ever spoken to him, walking away and never looking back. The silence as you both relived the memory was thunderous, and riddled with the pain of two broken hearts. You knew it was down to you to break the quiet- and to break his heart again. “We’ll be leaving for Ireland at the start of the month,” you explained to him, “Da wants us to leave before the snow sets in ‘cause we’re travelling all the way to Trawbreaga Bay. We’re going home.” “No.” Tommy said, and though you imagined it was supposed to be a demand, his voice broke in pain and it sounded more like him begging. “We’ll be gone for at least two winters, Tom. And Da wants me married by summer, so I might not even come back.” Tommy closed his eyes, dropping his head against your chest and his grip on you tightened furiously. You twisted one of your hands from his grasp, running your fingers through his hair and brushing your fingernails down to the nape of his neck. “I can’t loose you again.” His voice cracked under pressure as he mumbled into your shawl. “You choose to let me go once, you can do it again.” He shook his head and then lifted it slightly from against you, moving his hand from your bicep to part your shawl and expose the top of your chest. He pressed a kiss against your collarbone, and then to the side of your neck, before moving your hair to the side to kiss beneath your ear. His lips were warm and tender, and as he drew nearer to your mouth, kissing your cheek, you could smell the whiskey and tobacco that he always tasted of. Before he could reach your mouth, though, you put your fingers on his lips to stop him, pushing his head away. “I need you.” He spoke, bottom lip brushing against your skin. “You can’t belong to someone else.” “I belong to nobody but God,” you ran a thumb along his lip, “and you are no God, Tommy Shelby.” He pushed your hand away and pressed his forehead against yours, both of your eyes shutting so as to allow you to drink each other’s touch in. Tommy took grasp of both sides of your face, holding you tight against him. “I am more than a God.” He challenged with a low and forceful voice. “Not to me.” You whispered, apologetic. “I don’t worship you any more.” You took hold of his chin and drew his lips against yours, placing the softest kiss upon them. He knew better than to try for more, so stood limply as you untangled yourself and stepped away from him. You turned to walk away, but something within you made you stop and twist back around. You closed the distance between the two of you once again and kissed him tenderly against his cheekbone, one final time. He took hold of your hand, linking your fingers together in a desperate last attempt, but you simply slipped from his grasp with a sad smile, disappearing into the forest like a ghost in the night. You were dead to each other after all. Some things were just never meant to be.

~~~~~

(02/03/2021)

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

girl at home ; andy barber x fem!reader ; 1/3

status — completed series

word count — 4,830 words

warnings — few swear words, a bit of defending jacobs spoilers, not compliant with book/show ending, fluff?? bit of angst???

pairing — andy barber x fem!reader

a/n — lmao i lied this comes first then in a few i’ll post the final part of public’s eye. if someone reads this pls tell me what youd be more interested in, august walker or steve rogers social media au

masterlist | series masterlist

After proving Jacob’s innocence Andy imagined things would have been smooth-sailing from there. He was wrong.

Laurie asked for a divorce; citing how their marriage was built on a lie and that it was time to be truthful to themselves and to Jacob. They both also agreed that it wasn’t just working anymore, but on Andy’s part he was more than willing to try harder for it to work, but didn't want to push it. He accepted her wishes and didn’t fight for full custody over Jacob — he was more than content with spending weekends and certain holidays with his son. They both moved out of their Newton house and revealed to Andy how they were both relocating to Bakersfield in California; the lawyer being partially surprised with how far they were moving, but ultimately remembered how she had some family members over there.

Before their departure, Andy and Jacob got to bond one last time and somehow their conversation shifted to how the former had no plans of selling the house and moving somewhere else. “Don’t you think you’d be too lonely?”

The blunt question did get Andy thinking but he shrugged it off, “Maybe? I just don’t see myself living anywhere else, I guess.”

Nodding, the boy looked out the window as the Audi drove by. His eyes scanned a big red sign that read “For Rent” and suddenly gave him the idea as he turned to his father, “Or you could put a room up for rent?”

Hitting the brakes smoothly as there was a red light, he turned to his son and looked at him with his eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Green light,” Jacob informed and Andy nodded as he released his foot off the brake and continued the way home, “Advertise my room, or the spare one, for rent. That way, you know, you won’t really be alone.”

Pursing his lips together, Andy thought about it for a while. Would anyone even one to live there? With him? He didn’t want to seem like he was rejecting his son’s idea or make him feel like he was a fool for coming up with that one so he just found himself nodding, “Sounds like a great idea, pal.”

And when they were back at home, Jacob insisted he help his dad place an advertisement online for the availability of the spare bedroom across Jacob’s. Even though he thought it was a foolish idea, Andy just went along with it for two reasons — one, he just wanted to go along with what his son wanted and make him somewhat happy. And the second one being he was absolutely positive no one would want to live here.

It was a deal too good to be true; surely there had to be a catch? $500 a month for a room that was fully furnished? Maybe the house was just ugly? Or perhaps the room wasn’t really how it was pictured? Either way Y/N found herself messaging the house owner, Andy Barber, and let her know she was interested in checking the place out.

Pulling up in front of the house, Y/N let out a long whistle as she marveled at how the exterior of the house was well-groomed and clean. Exiting her car, she made her way to the front door and rang the doorbell and leaned by one of the columns as she took in the quiet ambiance of the neighborhood. Hearing the door creak upon, she turned around and smiled, “Hi! Are you Andy Barber?”

The bearded man was dressed in a simple ragged t-shirt and a pair of sweats; and despite the impression that he had just woken up, she thought that he had this cute boyish charm to him. “Yeah that’s me, you must be Y/N?” He offered his hand out for a shake, one which the girl enthusiastically shook.

As they both unclasped their hands Y/N wondered, “Is it a bad time? I can come back later,” Her question had him chuckling and she felt her heart warm with how relaxed he looked as he shook his head, “It’s not a bad time, this is just how I normally look.”

He stepped aside so she could come in and take a tour of the house. As Y/N was being shown around the house, she could not prevent her jaw from dropping from how cozy, elegant, and complete everything looked.

“And if you choose to, this is where you’ll be staying,” Andy opened the room to the spare bedroom and led her inside and allowed her to take a look around. It had a bed, a dresser and wardrobe, mirror, a reading chair, and a study desk paired with an office chair.

Turning to the man, “So what’s the catch?” Her question caught him off guard and folded his arms as he tilted his head to the side, “The catch?”

She nodded and looked at him as if she had the telepathic abilities to let him know what she was thinking, “You know, the reason why the rent’s so cheap? Is this house haunted? Do you actually have a rat infestation problem?”

As Andy threw his head back laughing at her suggestions, he couldn’t remember the last time he was this carefree. “No catch,” he explained once he calmed down from laughing and sat down on the reading chair, “Not haunted or rat infestation, really. Just I don’t know,” he struggled to look for the right words as he placed his hands on his thighs and rubbed them, “Put a room up for rent just so I wouldn’t get lonely.”

Y/N leaned by the office desk that was beside the chair Andy was sitting on as she spoke, “Well I liked the place so much; I’m guessing that means you won’t have to be alone?”

Looking up at her Andy smiled, “That’s great then, let me get the spare house key for you.”

“I hope I don’t seem too fast or what, but I hope you don’t mind if I move my things up already? I have all my belongings in the car.”

Andy nodded, “Oh no worries about it, let me help you get your stuff.”

For the next couple of hours, Y/N settled her things around the room. She placed her clothes on the dresser and wardrobe. Settled her pictures and other stationery items on the desk. Attaching the house keys to the keychain she had which contained her keys and skipped her way down the stairs.

Seeing how Andy was by his office area she asked, “Oh by the way I forgot to ask, are you allergic to something?”

“Planning to kill me already huh?” He joked as he looked at her pointedly to which she rolled her eyes at, “No, dummy. I was planning on cooking dinner.”

“Nope, not allergic to anything,” he clarified and she smiled and waved goodbye. Looking at her retreating form, Andy shook his head as he took note of how silly his new roommate was. He buried himself with preparing his things for office as Y/N went around to explore her new neighborhood’s grocery store.

Dozing off in the bedroom, Andy woke up once a savory and aromatic smell hit his nostrils. Rubbing off the sleep in his eyes, he sat up and glanced at the clock on his bedside table and took note of how it was already 5:30 in the evening. Slept longer than I thought I would, he thought to himself as he left the comfort of his bedroom and headed to see the source of the fantastic smell.

Upon reaching the kitchen he was greeted with the sight of Y/N moving around the kitchen, “What’s all this commotion about?”

Stopping her movements from stirring the pot, she smiled, “Cooking dinner; made carbonara,” she pointed to the pot she was currently attending to, “Baked some garlic bread,” she pointed to the pyrex container which had a few loaves of bread in it, “And some chicken tenders as well, because I was craving.”

Nodding, he grabbed a chicken tender and took a bite of it to which she gasped, “Andy! Couldn’t even wait a few more minutes!” The taller man could only sheepishly smile with his mouth full of chicken, “Sorry ‘bout that, want me to set the table?”

“Please do. Oh and I noticed you had a certain beer in the fridge so I hope you don’t mind I bought you a pack?” As she mentioned that he did see a new, unopened pack next to the single beer he had left inside the fridge. “Thanks for that; red wine your poison?” He inquired since he noticed a wine bottle he surely never bought. Seeing her nod, he asked if she wanted a glass to which she said yes to. In the next few minutes a comfortable silence engulfed them as they both were focused on preparing their first meal together.

Once everything was put in place they both sat across each other, Y/N placed her hands under her chin and looked at Andy with an excited look in her eyes, the man raised his brow at her, asking her nonverbally what she was looking at him for. “Go ahead, try it,” she softly encouraged him to which he nodded and swirled his fork around the pasta which the white sauce had already clung into and opened his mouth to taste.

“It’s good,” he complimented her as he swallowed, “Better than anything I’ve eaten in the past few months.” She clapped her hands and started to eat as well. “I was surprised to see your lack of groceries.”

He waited until his mouth was empty from eating the garlic bread she had before explaining, “Don’t really cook a lot; survived off takeout recently.” Despite having her mouth full with a tender, a loud shock was emitted from the woman across and Andy lightly cuckold at how adorable her reaction was.

“Lucky for you, I love to cook so you won’t be filling yourself up with that junk,” she assured him as she drank from her glass of wine. Setting his fork down he looked at her skeptical, “What brings you to Newton anyway?”

Her hands tore the garlic bread as she gulped down her drink, “Just finished college then found a job here so there’s that.”

“Which program did you take?” He wondered; not knowing if it was his curiosity about someone living in his house or it was the lawyer in him couldn’t help but question everything.

“Took a few years off after high school to know what I really wanted to do; then just took a two year course,” she further explained as she told him which degree she chose. Somehow her answer just had Andy even more interested so he pried, “Why not get a full degree?”

She shrugged her shoulders, “Didn’t want to waste four years of my life.”

“Would four years really be wasted if you spent it studying something you’re interested in?” he retorted back as he took a swig of his beer.

“Touché,” she acknowledged as she gobbled some pasta, “But I don’t know, I just feel like the time I’m spending on studying would be better spent if I was actually doing something I want. Get a job I wanna do. Visit every state in the country. Get a house with a pool. You know, just do things that make me happy without having any regrets”

As she listed off the things she desired in life, a solemn expression graced Andy’s face. Her perspective did make him think about how he lived his own life as well. Perhaps how there were certain choices that did make him happy and somehow there were regrets lingering in his mind. “And have you done any of those?”

“Well obviously I don’t have a house,” she joked as she waved her hand around Andy’s home, “But I did get a job here that I think I’ll enjoy, an 8-5 kind,” she paused for a while to gulp down more of the red wine she bought, “What about you?”

“What about me “ he questioned back as he looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. She rolled her eyes jokingly, “What’s your story, I guess? What brought you here in Newton?”

Her naivety had him questioning whether or not she knew the whole ordeal that his family went through; but he spared her of the full details, maybe next time or once he felt like he could fully trust her he’d tell her everything. “Had family here with me, but not anymore,” her eyes widened in shock with what he revealed but he was quick to reassure her, “I'm divorced now, ex-wife has full custody of our son. Used to be an assistant district attorney, now I’m just in private practice for civil litigation cases.”

Somehow, Andy felt a weight unload once he told her about him. Though granted it wasn’t the whole thing, but having someone to talk did make him feel lighter, more human. Y/N, on the other hand, felt amazed with how Andy chose to carry on despite what he’s been through. She got the feeling there was more to it than what he let on; and pity was not what she felt but more of feeling happy with how he did not give up and instead keep on going.

Holding her glass she raised it, “Here’s to new beginnings and being single then,” she toasted. Smiling, he raised his beer bottle and brought it to touch against her glass, “To new beginnings and being single.” The two then proceeded to finish the rest of their meal in silence.

The sun was shining bright that Monday morning and Andy woke up early to head down to their basement and do his morning exercise. Thirty minutes into it, he could sense that Y/N had woken up not only due to her footsteps he heard, but also because he could smell something delicious coming from the kitchen.

As he finished his workout, he headed up to his room to take a quick shower and dress up for his work. Granted it might have been too early to do all those but the smell of the food and the company of which he’d be eating breakfast enticed him to do so. Heading down, he was dressed in his full lawyer gear, minus the jacket, and smiled as he saw Y/N eating the rest of her pancakes by the breakfast bar.

“Morning Andy,” she greeted him, “There’s a fresh pot of coffee if you’d like,” she pointed to where she had just gotten a cup for herself as well. “Thank you,” he then moved to get himself a cup and once he did he took note of a plate that had a couple of pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

Pointing to it he accused her, “It’s as if you want me to waste the workout I just did huh.” She threw her head back in laughter at what he said while shaking his head to tell him that it wasn’t her intention. Glancing down on her wrist watch she mumbled a soft, “Shit,” upon noticing the time. Stacking her mug on the plate she moved to the sink where Andy grabbed the cutlery and utensils from her, “Let me do it and go ahead.”

Placing a hand on his forearm — in which they both felt relaxed and warm at their first touch — she thanked him for doing so and grabbed her bag that she placed on the couch. “Good luck on your first day,” Andy called out as he began munching on his own food. She yelled a quick thanks and see you as she closed the door behind her. Staring down on his plate, he smiled again upon seeing how the food in his plate resembled a smiley face; She really is something, he thought to himself.

The rest of the week flew by and both Andy and Y/N spent the week almost doing everything together. The former would wake up early and get his workout down; and sometime during the 45 minutes he’d spend on the basement the latter would take that time to prepare herself for the day ahead as well as the most important meal for their day. And if there were leftovers from the night before or that she had made too much for breakfast and was able to whip it into something for lunch, then she packed those not only for her, but for Andy as well.

And their routine together did not just stop there it bled into the night as well. Where it was always Y/N who came home first. After taking a bath either she’d start cooking supper or she would clean around the house a little — she noticed how Andy’s office area was frequently messy and she did her best to fix the mess without being too intrusive about it. She never step foot in his room, wanting him to have his privacy, but from what she could see he kept it organized despite having a few trash here and there, so she didn’t really loiter in that area of the house.

In hindsight, Y/N didn’t have to cook and clean for Andy. But with how low her rent was she felt that it was only fair to do so. Plus there was a part of her that somehow liked being around him, having someone to talk to about everything and anything they both could think of. There was never really a dull conversation between them.

Friday night arrived and instead of cooking another meal Y/N decided to get a pizza, wings, and another pack of beer for Andy. As she was in the liquor portion of the grocery she bumped into one of their neighbors, Joan RIfkin, whom she also recognized as one of the friends of her workmate.

“Y/N, right?” the woman asked as she looked at her with concern. “Yeah, that’s me. We met through Emily, when you helped her get to work,” Y/N recalled, both for her and Joan.

“Is it true that you live with Andy?” her question had Y/N wondering, how the hell did she know that? Despite that thought she nodded, “Room was cheap so I thought why not?”

Her nervous chuckle could not ease the tension between the two ladies; especially when Joan gave her a stern look as she warned her, “Be careful, okay? The Barber’s caused quite a ruckus and Andy is quite unpredictable.”

As Joan walked away while pushing her cart, Y/N was left confused and conflicted. The new information presented to her, though it was vague, left her puzzled about whether or not it was true. She was also unsure about the need to clarify with Andy what she has just been told.

Once his car was parked in the garage, Andy loosened his tie and entered the house. What greeted him was not the sight of Y/N cooking but her sitting on the couch while scrolling through her phone. Placed in the coffee table was a pizza box, his usual beer, a glass of wine, and box of chicken wings as well as a couple of paper plates.

“Didn’t feel like cooking today huh?” he jeered as he placed a hand on his hip, the other hand holding his briefcase for work. Diverting her eyes from her phone to the man in front she grinned at him, “No, but I felt like having pizza. Maybe we could watch a movie while eating?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll go change quickly,” he told her and she nodded. Andy then went up the stairs, taking two steps at a time to do so. Somehow there was this part of him that was incredibly excited at the thought of being physically close with Y/N. but he just shook his head at the thought and claimed that he was just excited to unwind the week’s stress with food, beer, and a movie.

Heading down after he dressed in more comfortable clothes he asked, “Alright, what are we watching?” Y/N shrugged as she moved to open the box of pizza, “Want a slice?” Andy nodded as he grabbed the remote and thanked her, “You heard about the hippie who burnt his mouth on the pizza?”

While holding a pizza slice of her own she looked at him and tilted her head to the side, her face being a combination of confusion and curiosity, one that Andy found charming. The bearded man had his face in faux seriousness as he continued, “He ate it before it was considered cool.”

Upon realizing the joke, Y/N let out a few giggles — real giggles, Any took note. “Okay not gonna lie, that was good,” she took a bite, “ Haven’t heard that one before.” Saying that made Andy feel proud, somehow his lame dad jokes made this brilliant woman laugh. “You wanna watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off?”

She nodded at his suggestion, “Yeah why not? Haven’t watched that in a while.” And so they both began to watch it as they ate and drank.

As they watched the film their occasional laughs were the only sound emitted from the two. As Andy was grabbing for a few slices or chicken wings, he found himself scooting closer beside Y/N, who didn’t really mind it and instead found having him close was comforting. The wartm that seeped past his clothed thigh and on to her bare skin as she was only wearing shorts made her feel safe. And somehow Andy’s arm found itself draped across the couch, almost touching Y/N’s shoulders, his fingers almost touching her. When she did move to drink her wine her skin touched the tips of his fingers rested on her shoulders and Andy who drank some of his beer as well looked alarmed.

“I’m sorry, I can move away if you’d like,” he said as he began to remove his hand from where it was comfortable in her shoulder. “No, it’s fine,” she assured him a little too quickly, “I mean, I don’t really mind. I’m not the type of person who hates hugging so I don’t really mind at all.”

She couldn’t prevent herself from physically cringing with what she said and how stupid it must have soounded like; but the man beside her didn’t think so based on his eyes crinkled in laughter. His arm then dropped from being on her shoulders and settled itself on her waist and pulled him as close as they could be sitting beside, “Well I hope you won’t mind if I do this then?”

She felt herself flutter with how smooth the man was and just silently assured him by placing her head against his shoulder, both turning their attention back to the movie.

As the end credits rolled, they both were full and were just now finishing up the last of the drinks. Y/N fiddled with her fingers as she had an internal debate about whether or not she should bring up her conversation with Joan earlier.

“You alright, Y/N?” Andy noticed how her actions might have indicated how she was nervous, a complete opposite to how she was earlier. Setting down his empty bottle on the coffee table, he turned to her and grasped both her hands in his, loving the feel of her soft hands against his calloused ones.

“It’s just, there’s something I need to ask,” she sighed and looked up at the ceiling as if it would have helped her say it better, “No, not really ask, but tell you. I don't know.” Her hesitation and uncertainty was something Andy easily sensed and he did his best to calm her down by rubbing their hands together and telling her she could tell him anything.

“So after work, I headed to the grocery to grab your beer, right? Then I saw Joan there, I don’t know her surname though. Anyway, she warned me to be careful of you because you’re unpredictable and that your family had caused a ruckus?” She ended her encounter with the woman by looking up at Andy, and the latter was surprised that there was no disgust in her tone and facial expressions; but more of worry? As if she was worried that rumors were spreading around about him and his family.

He stopped rubbing her hands and instead settled with fiddling with them, “I think it’s best if you found out now,” he began before taking a deep breath, “Almost two years ago, Ben Rifkin, a fourteen year old boy, died. At the time I was the assistant district attorney and was assigned to investigate. When fingerprints of my son, Jacob, were found in the body everyone assumed he did it.”

“Did he?” Y/N question when she noticed it took Andy sometime to continue with his story. Shaking his head no he picked up where he left off the story, “He didn’t, his fingerprints were there because he just saw the body, panicked and didn’t call the police. A man who had a record for groping and stalking kids did it. But Joan, Ben’s mom was still convinced that Jacob had something to do with her son’s death even after it was proved that he didn’t.”

“I’m sorry about that Andy, she has no right to name you and your family those things,” Y/N was quick to comfort him. But he only chuckled sadly, “Does she not?” She could feel that there was more Andy wanted to say so she remained silent, “During the trial and investigation, they were fully convinced Jacob did it because of me, of my father.”

He said those three words with so much hate and disdain, “My estranged father, rather, he raped and killed some student many years ago. Now he’s serving a life sentence for it. They claimed that I had this murder gene and somehow Jacob got it too, hence why he killed Ben.”

After hearing his explanation, Y/N now understood why Joan claimed Andy was unpredictable. She also empathize with the mother who lost her son and understood why she felt this indifference towards the Barbers; but she still believed that maybe Joan would someday accept that the what they’ve been believing — that Jacob had any involvement for her son’s death — is nothing but mere suspicion that was proved false.

“I mean, I understand why she holds this sort of grudge against you or your family,” Andy’s heart dropped at what Y/N said and loosened his grip on her hands, prepared to hear her say how she wanted to leave his house that somewhat felt like home ever since she came, “But it’ll take time for her to accept the truth and disregard the suspicion she had. I believe in what you say and do think that you are harmless.”

Her statement had Andy looking up from where he was staring at their hands and looked up at her with relief in his face, “What?” He could not help but sound meek as he asked so; but he felt the opposite, he felt empowered and invincible upon knowing that there was someone on his side for once.

Deciding to do something risky, Y/N leaned forward to plant a gentle and comforting kiss on Andy’s forehead, “What happened to Joan’s son was horrible, yes. But if you say, and an investigation says your son had nothing to do with it, then I believe it. And murder gene? The only thing that a gene can pass down to us is sickness,” she joked, hoping to lighten up the atmosphere and was pleased to see how Andy laughed softly at it,”You’re not what your father did, okay? The only way to define you is through what you say, think, and do.”

Andy smiled as he stared at her lovingly, “And if I think and tell you that you’re such a beautiful person, inside and out, and that it's been great having you here live with me?” She laughed as she rested her cheek against her hand and sassed at him, “I’d call bullshit ‘cause you probably used that line with your wife.”

He just rolled his eyes as he moved her around so she could comfortably lay her head against his chest as he wrapped his muscular arms around her frame. “Well then I’m just gonna have to do my best to prove it to you the entire time you’re here then.”

Turning her head so she could face him, “Well joke’s on you, I plan to be here for quite a long time.” The butterflies in Andy’s stomach then went wild at what she said, but his composure allowed him to answer back with, “I don’t mind that at all, honey.”

Laying a kiss on her forehead, he then teased her about the grin she had on her face and two then talked the rest of the night away.

part two

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