#if the bed looks anything like the rest of the furniture its probably a four poster canopy feather bed

[eleccy]

c'mere for a second, i need for you to look at this.

Yes, there he be. But I want you to notice something about this cell.

There's no bed. Y'know? No room for one.

But that table, the one the roses are on? That looks like it could be a night table. It's got flowers and a photo frame on it. That's almost certainly a nightstand. I don't see how it could be anything else.

He has to have a bed in there, right?

We're seeing this image from Phoenix's perspective.

So in case you haven't noticed it yet, let me spell it out for you.

Phoenix is sitting on Kristoph's bed.

Is that not the only possible place it could be in this cell? Do you want to tell me I'm wrong about this? Think it over first.

#krisnix #kristoph gavin #phoenix wright #aa4 #AND THEY FUCKED IN THERE ok im gonna stop. #WHY ELSE WOULD HE BE SITTING ON HIS BED THATS HIS BED #dont give me some bullshit hes sitting in a chair. #WE CAN SEE THE CHAIR. THATS THE ONLY CHAIR IN THE ROOM #WHY WOULD HE HAVE TWO CHAIRS WITH TWO TABLES BITCH. THATS HIS BED. #phoenix youre going to muss the sheets. #if the bed looks anything like the rest of the furniture its probably a four poster canopy feather bed #1000 thread count sheets and feather pillows and all that shit #phoenix wright is sitting on kristoph's bed. intimacy #i noticed this a long ass time ago #thought surely i posted this before now

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Metal on you little mouse

Karl Heisenberg x fem!reader

warning : smutish, implied dubiouse consent, kiss, collar, Heisenberg uses his power a little diffrent, no use of Y/n, some german words

Summary : There were four houses in the neighbourhood, including Karl Heisenberg, a man who liked soft, fragile things as well as hard metal, so why not pay his little mouse a visit again?

Info : So my second piece for this pretty Lord and I had this idea and wanted to explore it further so have fun reading and hope you like it.

@thatsthewrongwallcraig hope you still know whitch idea I mean ;)

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The factory just outside the village seemed to be the only thing that brought anything like modernity or progress to the medieval-looking village.

The torches that lit up the village at night, the oil lamps that swung back and forth and the wooden fences were almost pathetic compared to the Heisenberg factory - even the lady's castle seemed strange and out of place.

The sounds of the factory were always too metallic, robotic and flesh meeting metal. But deep, deep inside the factory there was another sound, the sound of a man walking through the factory in heavy leather boots.

He entered the rooms and corridors where only he had access to, simply shoving aside the metal of the door with his powers where any other normal person would only have been able to get in with dynamite. The room behind it was probably the only one not taken over by the factory - on the contrary, the room seemed almost too normal.

Like something out of a furniture store, a normal room, a room that wasn't his, a room that belonged to her. ,,Little mouse, are you awake?" he asked and a grin appeared under his hat, a grin that looked like joy. His greenish blue eyes looked at the body lying on the bed facing away from him.

The light blanket, especially in the colder days, just invited him to lie next to her, to press her sweet, frail body against his, for how could she ever defend herself from all these dangerous monsters? The Overlord turned away from her for a moment and looked around the room, ,,Our home darling," he had said, remembering his words when he had first shown it to her.

Her body in front of him ignoring the look of bewilderment on her face showing her everything from the wardrobe with the pretty simple clothes just enough not to look sloppy but free enough for him to have her to himself.

The pictures on the wall photos of her and him, landscapes and a few paintings she had done in the beginning. ,,Such an interesting butterfly you are darling," he praised, running his leather-gloved fingers over her paintings almost as if he were touching them like he did every night. His favourite.

Turning back to her, he walked the last few metres towards the bed and sat down next to her, the mattress giving way slightly under his size and weight. ,,Aufwachen kleine Maus" he said in German, giving her the nickname appropriate to her form beside him, a thought that had him in its grip.

Such a pretty woman, his favourite soft and gentle in such a harsh environment…he took what he deserved for the plan he would soon make.

Slipping the gloves from his hands so as not to stain her body with extra oil, dirt and blood, he pulled the blanket from her body piece by piece, releasing her. ,,So pretty," he murmured with a broad smile when he saw that she was still wearing his shirt from the previous night. It was much too big for her, of course, the sleeves twice as long and it ended just above her knees like a little extra blanket.

He ran his rough hands over the crumpled fabric, giving himself a moment's rest before continuing with his plan of why he was here. ,,I know you're awake, darling," he said, letting his fingers settle suddenly and more roughly on her bust, which lay beneath the front of her shirt.

He felt the soft breasts under the fabric and smiled as he felt the slight flinch as he gently twisted her sensitive nipples between his fingers.

He usually kissed her body, loving her intimately night after night, she just had to be his, his pretty little bird and he loved her. But with day after day of the power of his "siblings" and the power of the holy woman, he too was more tense, no nothing could go wrong.

His other hand played with the end of the shirt, pulling it up ever so slightly, leaving little circles and his metallic leather smell mingled with her sweeter one.

A mix that wouldn't let him go and he wanted more. ,,Come on, wife, give me a kiss," he whispered to her and felt her tense up instantly when he called her the nickname she hated and he knew it only too well.

But his little mouse seemed to have more composure than he did because all at once he let go of her as he felt the metal around him with a simple thought.

Less than a second later, her body was moved against her will, against her own wishes, and she was only halfway up so as not to simply hang down. ,,Let me go," she said, not screaming but not quietly either, it was like a calm warning which he answered with a laugh that made the bed squeak.

Before he steered her body forwards to place his fingers on the metal collar he had given her. ,,Such a beauty…hate doesn't suit you darling," he rebuked, running his rough fingers over the skin of her neck as he had done many times before, sometimes gently, sometimes firmly, taking her breath away.

His darling was his whether she wanted it or not. She couldn't move, instead closing her eyes to avoid looking into his captivating gaze.

His voice could still influence her body as with his abilities it was like a moth being drawn to the light again and again. It was natural attractiveness with a hint of hopelessness and that he was the only one she still saw.

His other hand-free hand went to hers, the metal ring on her finger making her respond to his touch like a puppet he could control when he pleased.

,,I know it's all getting used to…but believe me it will get better" he tried again with gentleness like the other times he was always gentle to her he couldn't hurt her at all. He only wanted the best for her from the way he "housed" her here to his obsessive love with the hook and the ring.

A ring that showed their bond to everyone. One thought and he could feel her and know she was safe. Something he couldn't do without the metal it was all out of love. ,,My love, I know you like it too," he murmured to her, entangling her in another kiss, feeling her return his kiss with a gentle pressure on her hand, she didn't move and he turned his hand away from hers.

The length of her upper body slid down to the soft breasts that lay so perfectly in his hand, which he lavished with kisses when he had caused her "pain". Her hips, on which both his hands were placed, were covered in bright colours and gently kissed when she was a good girl.

All the way down to her thighs he felt the wince as he lightly squeezed the soft skin, his fingers digging into her flesh. He remembered the previous nights, the trembling of her body, the twitching of her legs when he pinned her in place with the metal.

Her moans echoed against the walls as he lay between her thighs, seeking his reward after a long day. ,,You're just my source of inspiration, you understand that, don't you?" he asked, seeing her nod briefly, but wanting to feel her love him just as much.

Sliding her body back onto the mattress, the two of them engaged in another kiss, a position that wasn't entirely forced, if that was even possible. Just as he was about to put his hands back on her body, he suddenly felt a vibration not only go through the floor but apparently also through the factory.

He felt something or someone explode his inventions. But it wasn't the power of Miranda or the annoying doll or the fish, it was human. ,,Sorry darling I'll be back with you as soon as I can, don't let you regret it" he said giving her one last kiss on the forehead from which she turned away which he ignored as he pulled his gloves back on and pushed the door aside with his strength only to slam it back into the wall harder than ever.

No one, not even Ethan Winters, would get it, his darling was his and he would kill even Miranda if she threatened them. He was the only one she needed and that would never change.

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

#resident evil 8 #resident evil village #resident evil karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader

[chrisevansjellybeans]

Undercover | Mob!Steve Rogers

I saw this post  by @rosierose-e​ and got inspired to write this mob! Steve Rogers smut. All mistakes are my own. 

ALSO THANK YOU FOR 400 FOLLOWERS! Love you all and appreciate the support immensely! Thank you :) 

Warning: Smut!!! NSFW choking, cockwarming, swearing

Part Two

Word Count: 5k

You squinted as you looked at yourself in the mirror. The weight of the false lashes a foreign feeling on your eyes. You felt like a clown. This was not you at all. You wore the basics: some foundation, concealer, blush, mascara and if you were really feeling fancy a lip gloss. But nothing heavy. One, your skin was unforgiving and if you went heavier than the BB cream you used you would have pimples for days. Two, in your line of work heavy makeup just wasn’t ideal. 

“Wow, you look amazing.” You looked up in the mirror to see the rookie Peter Parker getting into the van behind you. Peter was sweet, a little naive, but a good agent nonetheless. He had joined the force about three months ago and Director Fury had insisted he learn from the best, so now he was your partner for the remainder of the year. 

“Thanks, Pete.” You sighed as you straightened up, pulling the hem of the skin tight black dress down only to have it bunch up again. “I feel ridiculous.” 

“Well you don’t look it.” He handed you a cup of coffee and you took it with a grateful smile. You needed all the caffeine you could get tonight. 

Tonight you were going undercover at the notorious Red White and Blue Gala hosted by none other than notorious mob boss Steve Rogers. It was his lame attempt and pretending to be an upstanding citizen but hosting an event in honor of the men and women in service. A good cause but for a bad reason. It was rumored that more than just helpful charity happened at this event. 

 You and the rest of your team had been tailing Rogers for close to two years. Trying to get anything to tie the bastard down to all the crimes you knew his organization was behind. But he was good at his job. Leaving no trace evidence that could link any of the nefarious acts back to him. 

He was a cocky son of a bitch and you wanted to be the one to nail him. 

Peter glanced down at the watch on his wrist before clapping his hands together. “Almost showtime, partner.” 

You felt your hands get clammy as the nerves started to wrack your body. You had done undercover work before in the last seven years you’ve been a part of the force but there was something different about this one. Something more dangerous. Steve Rogers was a dangerous man. 

You turned back to the mirror and fixed your hair and makeup one last time before letting out a long breath. You again tried to pull down the hem of the dress but with no avail. You wanted badly to be mad at the catering company that you had been able to infiltrate but you knew that this was probably the work of Rogers. Sick bastard. 

You slipped on the four inch heels they gave you and you nearly stumbled into Peter as you tried to take a step. Heels. Another thing not usually worn in your line of business. 

“Okay, this is a listening device.” Peter explained as he pinned a small but beautiful butterfly pin on your right breast. You couldn’t help but chuckle as his hands fumbled as he accidentally grazed over where your nipple would be. “Sorry.” 

“It’s a boob, Parker. It’s fine.” Peter just nodded before finishing pinning it. 

“Anyway,” he continued. “It’ll be recording everything that we need and coming right back here to my feed in the van. It’s small enough that it won’t get detected by any scanners. Unfortunately we won’t be able to communicate but if you say ‘pineapple’ we’ll come in and get you out.” 

“Pineapple.” You said more to yourself than to Peter. 

“Pineapple. And I mean, Y/N. Anything starts to get fishy you get out of there. Roger’s is ruthless.” 

“I know.” You patted his shoulder. “Thanks for looking out for me, rook.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He pushed you out the van. “Kick ass, partner.” 

You gave him a small salute before turning around and following another group of girls dressed just like you into the expansive mansion in front of you. 

You tried not to be too awestruck as you took in the structure of the building. It looked like something out of an old mystery novel. The entire place was dark. Dark wood and dark furniture. The lights all a dimmed tan light that fed into the mysterious atmosphere. Your eyes darted to the artwork that littered the wall, all depictions of a fall from grace. 

Is that how you see yourself, Rogers? A fallen angel? 

“Hey!” You snapped back to attention as a frantic voice called over to you. “What the hell are you doing? Get to the kitchen.” 

You bit your tongue as you glared at the rude man before following the rest of the women into the kitchen. 

Dressed all like you, there were probably about twenty other women there. All of them easily could have been supermodels. The rude man pushed you towards a group of about three of them who were all balancing drinks on a tray. 

“Grab one and go.” The man, Stan you gathered from his nametag, said before turning to another group of women. You picked up a tray and prayed to all powers in the universe that the combination of full glasses of wine and these heels didn’t cause you to completely embarrass yourself. 

The ballroom was huge. You suddenly felt very small as you wandered around the room, offering drinks to some of New York’s most high profile residents. You kept your eyes peeled for the familiar mob boss. Your heart rate sped up as you noticed him across the room, chatting with a beautiful woman. You watched as he leaned down and whispered something to her, causing her to blush before playfully pushing his shoulder. He just smirked before turning his attention to the man on the other side of him-Clint Barton, completely ignoring her now, but she still stayed by his side watching his every move. 

Pathetic. 

You had to get to him. Get him alone and get him talking. But how? 

“Well aren’t you the prettiest thing in the room.” You felt yourself stiffen as a pair of hands wandered down your back and rested on your hip. The smell of expensive cologne attacking your senses. 

Slowly you turned around to find James “Bucky” Barnes looking at you like a predator to its prey. Bucky, was Steve’s right hand man. His best friend. He was handsome. Dark hair, even darker blue eyes and a smirk, that if he was anyone else, would have your panties melted off before you could even blink. You glanced down at the infamous metal arm that was hidden underneath an expensive suit jacket, but his hand flexed slightly as he noticed you looking at it. 

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.” You forced out. “Can I offer you a drink?” You pushed the tray between the two of you in offering and also creating more space. 

“No, I’m all set, doll.” He raised his glass of scotch. “Just wanted to talk to a pretty thing like you.” 

“There are plenty of other beautiful women here.” You said, your voice slightly cold. You hoped he would get the hint. 

“None quite like you.” He smirked and you fought everything in you to roll your eyes. 

“Does that line actually work?” 

Bucky took a step back at your bluntness. You see out of the corner of your eye, Rogers and Barton start to head towards the door. You had to make a move, because if he left to go do business he might not come back down for a while. 

“It was nice talking to you, Mr. Barnes.” You quickly moved past him, ignoring his short “wait”. You rushed, but not too obviously, towards where Steve was heading. If you went fast enough you could cut him off. You felt your heart drop to your stomach as you tripped over your heels, the tray in your hand shooting forward and the glasses of red wine landing square on Steve Rogers’ suit. 

“What the fuck?” The room went silent at his angry outburst. You stumbled as you tried to stand up, but were immediately hoisted up when his large hands wrapped around the tops of your arms. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” You sputtered. For a moment you forgot where you were. Why you were here. His blue eyes, dark with fury, scanned your face as he held your arms. You had never really taken a good look at him. All pictures in his file weren’t anything special or high definition. But now, seeing him up close? You were beginning to understand the woman from earlier giddiness. 

He was beautiful. 

You bit your lip as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip. You suddenly felt very aware of your body and the fact that he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. 

“Go.” He pushed you towards the door he had been walking to with Barton. You walked through the door with shaky legs as you heard him mutter something to Barton before following you. 

“Sir, I’m so-” 

“Shut up.” He growled as he stepped through the door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him. “Walk.” 

You hesitated. You didn’t know where he wanted you to walk to. Grumbling, Steve once again pushed you forward and you just started walking down the hallway. As you walked down you noticed a door that was slightly ajar. You glanced in while walking past and took note of the firearms and drugs that were very obviously there.

“Keep. Walking.” Steve’s voice was harsh in your ear before you heard him slam the door shut. 

“Yes, sir.” you muttered. 

The two of you continued to walk until you made it to the room at the end of the hall. Tentatively you opened it, waiting for any different direction, but Steve remained silent behind you so you continued. 

The room was...different. It was very different from the dark vibe of the rest of the house. There was a large bay window to your left that overlooked the back of the house that homed a large garden and pool. The walls were painted a soft beige and the furniture a lighter wood than the rest of the house. Even the bed was covered in a white duvet that looked like a cloud just waiting to be jumped on. It was homey. It was nice. 

“Mr. Rogers-” 

“Who do you work for?” He demanded, shutting the door. 

You froze. You tried hard to make sure your face didn’t give away anything as he stared you down. You didn’t let your gaze falter as he stalked closer to you. 

“Lee’s Catering.” You answered earnestly. 

“Bullshit.” He was now only a foot away from you. His broad shoulders heaving as he raked you up and down. “I know every single girl that works for Stan. I’ve never seen you before. So answer me again and honestly this time. Who the fuck do you work for?” 

“So he’s not allowed to hire new girls?” You snapped, immediately covering your mouth with your hand. 

Fuck. 

“Watch your tone with me, sweetheart. You’re on very thin ice right now.” He closed the final gap between the two of you and you gasped when his hand went around your throat, but not tightening enough to cut off any oxygen. 

“That old bat isn’t allowed to hire anyone that I haven’t vetted.” He hissed in your ear. You shuttered as the vibrato of his voice sent shivers straight down to your core. 

“Please.” Your voice came out in a whisper as your eyes pleaded with him. 

Steve opened his mouth but nothing came out, his nose brushed along the curve of your neck and you sucked in a breath as his mouth latched onto the sensitive spot underneath your jaw. 

“Strip.” He commanded, pushing you back causing you to fall onto the bed. 

“What?” 

“Take off your fucking clothes so I can see if you’re wired.” He snapped. You slowly pulled at the hem of your dress before drawing it up your body and over your head. Before you could fully get it off he stopped you. Your heart stopped as he reached over to the butterfly pin and pulled it off the dress. You watched in horror as he walked to his door, opening it and calling out to someone at the end of the hall. 

“Yeah boss?” You tried to see him, but Steve’s frame was blocking the small opening in the door. 

“Take this and run a test. Let me know if it’s bugged.” He demanded before closing the door. When he turned around he raised an expectant eyebrow at you letting you know you still had to take off the dress. You resumed your actions and turned your face away when his eyes flared at the matching set of red lingerie you had on underneath. 

“See? No wires.” You whispered. 

Steve didn’t say anything as he stalked towards you, rolling up the sleeves to the dress shirt he had on. Your body flushed as he leaned over you, his strong arms resting on either side of your chest. Slowly, he moved on hand to the strap of your bra before lowering it down off your shoulder. His thumb brushed over your pebbling nipple and you wanted to smack the smirk that formed on his face straight off. 

“I better double check you’re not hiding anything anywhere.” He muttered before pulling the cup of your bra down, exposing your left breast. You shuttered as his thumb brushed over it again, this time with no barrier. His mouth was hot as wrapped his lips around the bud, causing you to let out an unwilling moan. Your hips bucked up as his tongue expertly ran over your nipple. His deftly unclipped your bra and moved his mouth to your other breast and continued the same assault. His hands moved down to your hips to steady them from bucking against his growing member. 

“Hmm, looks like we’re clear up here.” He chuckled as his lips moved up to your jaw before capturing your mouth with his. 

The kiss was fiery and embarrassingly so sent a wave of pleasure down to your aching core. You moaned into the kiss as you ran your fingers through his hair, giving it a tight tug. Steve growled at your movements as he fully leaned into you now, his muscular thighs trapping yours on the bed. 

You ran your tongue along his bottom lip before slipping it in to find his own. You nearly came as Steve moaned into your mouth, his hands tightening on you and pulling you up to meet his rutting hips. Using all your strength you spun the two of you around, your mouths still connected, so you were now straddling his pelvis. You pulled away from the kiss and sat up. 

Steve slowly opened his eyes, his pupils blown in desire as he looked up at you through hooded eyes. You began to unbutton his wine stained shirt, running your hands over his porcelain skin when it was fully opened. You traced your fingers over the tattoos that littered his abs and ribs. You took pleasure in the fact that Steve would shiver with every pass of your fingertip. 

“I’m sorry about the stain, Mr. Rogers.” You said innocently, leaning down, your breasts pushed together as they rested on his now bare chest. 

“You should be, princess.” His voice was deep. You let out a small yelp as one of his hands gave a harsh slap to your ass. “This is an expensive shirt. And don’t even get me started on the trousers.” 

You hummed in understanding as you gave tiny kisses across his jaw and neck, taking time to suck on the skin around his collarbone. Your hands wandered down his body till they came in contact with the trousers in question. Slowly you sat up, running your hands over the stain on his pants but your eyes never leaving his. 

“I hope you can get the stain out.” You licked your lips as you moved your body down his own until your face was directly by his crotch and the stain. You sucked on the stain near his cock and smiled when his member jumped in his briefs. You slowly pulled down his pants until he was just in his underwear, his cock trying so hard to break free from it’s confines. 

Steve groaned as you finally freed his aching member. You gave the tip a little kitten lick as you looked up at him. He was now resting his weight on his arms as he leaned back and watched you in absolute wonder. You brushed your thumb across the tip, dragging the precum that had gathered there down the rest of his shaft. Your mouth watered at the thought of having him in your mouth. But you wanted to torture him a bit more. 

You ran your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock, while your hand squeezed lightly at the base. You wrapped your lips around the tip, your tongue playing with the slit there before pulling back with a pop. 

“Mhmm, tasty.” You continued treating him like your own personal lollipop, but never fully enveloping his dick in your mouth. 

“Sweetheart, either fucking suck it like I know you can or I’ll shove it down your fucking throat.” Steve wrapped your hair into a makeshift ponytail and forced your head up. “Got it?” 

You didn’t respond, instead you finally took him into your mouth. You pushed past your gag reflex and took him all the way in until your nose brushed against the hairs on his naval. 

“Oh fuck.” Steve’s voice praised as he started moving his hips, fucking his cock down the back of your throat. 

Your eyes watered as you let him use your throat as his own little fuck toy. You reached between your legs trying to relieve the tension that was building there. You moaned around his cock as your fingers toyed with your clit. 

“Shit, I wanna come in that fucking pussy.” He moaned as he pulled you off the floor and threw you back on the bed. You laid back, your fingers moving back to your clit as you watched him fully take off his clothes. He watched you with interest as you moved your lace panties to the side and slid a finger up your slit, gathering your juices before gently rubbing your clit again. He ran his hands up your legs before grabbing your hand and stopping your actions. 

“This,” He patted harshly against your pussy and you moaned at the sensation. “Is mine. Don’t touch, unless I tell you to.” 

“Yes, sir.” You moaned as his fingers replaced yours. Your back arched as he dipped one finger into your hole. 

“Fuck, baby. When was the last time somebody fucked this little cunt? You’re so fucking tight, baby.” He moaned, watching as your pussy greedily closed around his finger. 

“You’re gonna feel so good around my cock, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes met yours and for a moment he looked like a man that you might actually want to be with. His cold exterior was gone and replaced with a man who was just as lustfully lost as you were. 

“I want your cock now. Please.” you cried out as he slipped another finger in. Your body bucking as he curled his fingers up hitting that spot that so few had been able to get to with you. 

“Yeah? My little slut wants daddy’s cock to fill her up?” He leaned over you, capturing your lips again. You moaned into his mouth at his words. You never admitted it to anyone but you always had a little bit of a daddy kink. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly as waves of pleasure crashed over you. 

“Please, daddy.” You whimpered against his lips as your hips bucked against his. “Please fuck me.” 

Steve chuckled darkly, kissing you quickly again, before ripping your panties clean off your body. You didn’t even care that he just ruined the most expensive pair of underwear you owned. You just needed his cock in you now. 

You bit the inside of your cheek as you watched him lineup his cock with your dripping hole, slowly pushing the head into your tight channel. You both let out moans as he bottomed out. He fell forward, his forehead resting against yours. You whined as you tried to move your hips against his but he just forced them down with his hands. 

“Steve!” You all but screamed. “Please.” 

“Patience, baby.” He said through gritted teeth. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight. Squeezing daddy’s cock so good. I just need a minute.” 

You let out a humph as you continued to buck your hips against his. 

“What the fuck did I just say?” He growled, he leaned up and wrapped his hand around your throat. “Don’t be a fucking brat.” 

You opened your mouth to apologize but it was overtaken as you let out a yelp as he pulled himself out before slamming his cock back into you. You threw your head back as he fucked into you relentlessly, his hand tightening around your throat. You were in a state of euphoria as his cock dragged in and out of your walls. 

“Oh my god.” You mewl as he continues to completely destroy your pussy. Before you could process what’s happening, Steve flips you over so your face is pushed into the fluffy comforter. He pulls your hips back so your ass is in the air and he easily slides back into you. 

“Tight little cunt fucking loves my cock.” You cry out as his hand delivers a slap against your ass before moving to your hips and pushing you back onto his dick. You feel your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tip of his cock hits your g-spot. 

“Daddy!” You call out. Steve leans over and pulls you up by your neck, causing your back to be flush with his front as he fucks up into you. His other hand moves down to play with your clit. 

“Are you gonna come baby girl? I feel your pussy milking my cock. You wanna come?” He growls in your ear. “Huh? You wanna come all over my cock?” 

“Yes! Oh god, yes!” 

“I’m so close, princess.” He drops his head into the crook of your neck. “Come on, baby. Squeeze my cock, make daddy come with you.” 

You feel that familiar feeling in your tummy as your orgasm approaches. 

“Shit.” You breathe out as your orgasm gets closer and closer. Steve’s fingers move faster against your clit. You cry out as your orgasm finally crashes over you. Steve lets out a groan as you feel his cock twitch inside of you, his cum shooting inside your walls. 

“You feel so good.” He breathes as his orgasm dies down. You hum in agreement but you’re too tired to say anything else. You close your eyes as you feel Steve lower your both to the bed. You whimper as he pulls out of you. 

“I’ll be right back.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and you just give him a nod. You’re completely incoherent. Totally fucked out. He’s gone for a couple minutes and you hear the water in the bathroom running before he comes back. With your eyes closed you don’t see how he pauses at the side of bed, appreciating the curves of your body as you curled yourself under one of his many blankets. 

You whine as you feel him move the blanket before running a washcloth between your legs. “Steve?” 

“Yes, princess?” You hate that your stomach flutters at the nickname. 

“Don’t leave.” You mutter, closing your eyes once more. 

Steve doesn’t respond for a second and at first you think that he’s going to leave but then you feel the bed dip and a strong arm pulling you close. You smile to yourself as your hand lands on top of his. 

“Get some rest.” He whispers in your ear. 

“Mmkay.” you hum and you don’t know if it’s your imagination or not but you swore you felt Steve smile against your skin. 

You wake with a jolt. You glance at the clock and curse silently. You’ve been asleep for two hours. You turn over and see Steve still there, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. You find yourself staring at his long eyelashes and how they rest gently along the tops of his cheek. He doesn’t look like a scary mob boss here. He looks human. He looks peaceful. 

“I can feel you staring.” Steve opens one eye and gives you a small smile. “Like what you see?” 

You gasp as he grabs you and has you straddle his hips. You rest your hands easily on his chest and stare down at him, smirking as you feel his cock start to stir. 

“Hmmm, I love these.” His hands reach up and twist at your nipples causing you to bite back a moan. 

“Steve…” 

“And your pussy is so responsive to me, princess. It’s like it was made for me.” He rubs his thumb across your clit. “I can feel how wet you are again.” 

“Well you’re playing with my clit. Of course I’m gonna get wet.” You retort. 

Steve raises an eyebrow at you. “You really think being sassy is in your best interest?” 

You roll your eyes but don’t respond. Steve grumbles before lifting you up a bit and impaling you on his now hard cock. 

“Fuck!” You slap his chest and Steve chuckles. Nonetheless you start rocking your hips against his. 

“Nuh uh,” Steve tuts. He holds your hips still. “You’re just gonna sit here like this. Keep me nice and warm.” 

“Steveeee.” You whine, lowering your head to his chest. 

“Don’t be such a brat then.” He growls. You raise your head to look at him and even though his words are tough, his eyes are soft. And for a moment your taken back. “So sit still for daddy.” 

You groan but stay still. Steve runs his fingers up and down your back, tracing patterns along your skin and you hum in appreciation. Your peaceful moment is upended though when his phone rings on the nightstand next to him. 

“Rogers.” He answers quickly. You stay quiet as you hear the voice on the other end of the line talk about the product movement. You smirk to yourself as Steve begins to discuss logistics, completely ignoring your presence. 

“I’m a little busy, Stark.” Tony Stark? As in Mayor of the city Tony Stark? He was in on this too. “I’ll call you back.” Steve threw his phone back on the nightstand and brought your face up to his to pull you into a searing kiss. 

“Please, daddy?” You say against his lips. You start rocking your hips again and this time, Steve doesn’t stop you. 

You're a moaning mess as Steve’s hips snap up yours, your orgasm fast approaching. 

“Gonna cum already?” 

“Yes, yes! Oh god, I’m so close!” You breathe as he quickens his pace. 

“Cum, baby girl. Make a mess on daddy.” He groans, his head tipping back. 

“Steve!” You choke out as your body spasms with pleasure. Steve comes quickly after you and you shutter as you feel his seed leaking out of your worn out hole. 

You lay your head down on his chest again and try to gather your thoughts. You need to get out of here. 

“I should go.” You whisper, sitting up. Steve’s cock is still inside you and you almost don’t want to leave because you feel so full. 

“I wanna see you again.” He runs his fingers across your cheek. The sense of power you feel seeing the country’s biggest mob boss underneath you, drunk on your sex is overwhelming. You love the feeling. 

“You will. Soon.” You lean down and give him a deep kiss. “I promise.” You peck his lips once more before gathering your clothes from the floor. 

Slipping on your shoes you give him one last wink before hurrying out the door and down the hall. You manage to find a way to the kitchen without having to walk through the rest of the party and you sneak out behind a delivery man who brought in a ridiculously large ice sculpture. 

Once you're outside you take your heels off and run towards the van down the street. You hurriedly knock on the back, checking your surroundings to make sure no one sees you. Peter opens the door and he looks like he’s seen a ghost when he sees you. 

“Y/N!” He pulls you into the van. “Oh my god, I was getting worried. When we heard him say that he wanted to check the pin I had to turn off the devices so they wouldn’t get traced. And then you didn’t come out. But Fury said that you would be fine but man, I was so nervous and-”

“Parker, shut up and hand me a piece of paper.” You clapped your hands together, pulling him out of his ramble. Peter nodded and handed you a pen and paper watching intently as you started writing down everything you overheard on the phone call. 

“What is this?” 

“Rogers is working with Stark and they're moving some sort of product tomorrow.” You said proudly.

“How did you...this is huge!” 

“My Ma always said that there are two ways to get to a man. One is through his stomach and the other is in his pants.” You shrugged. 

“And I’m guessing you didn’t make him a grilled cheese sandwich.” Peter makes a face. 

“Not exactly.” You laugh. “Now let’s go. We gotta get this to Fury.” 

Part 2

#chris evans imagine #steve rogers imagine #chris evans smut #steve rogers smut #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #stever rogers x reader smut

[seokahwrites]

NUISANCE | chapter 1 (or, human walls and steak fungi)

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back to nuisance masterlist

pairing.

| lawyer! jeon jungkook x lawyer! reader (feat. ex! kim taehyung)

summary.

| all you wished for was a relaxing two weeks in a big ass boat eating some big ass shrimps, away from the real world. but instead you’re stuck with your arch rival with no means of escape — and goddamit why does the bastard smell so good

tags.

| the spice has commenced; POUTY JUNGKOOK???; hunky jungkook?; jungkook?; jungkook in a suit; a LOT of jungkook; pouty reader; stressed out reader; use of the words dick and cooch; use of the word satan (to refer to kim seokjin ofc); KIM SEOKJIN IS THE REAL MAIN CHAR; poor joon is a victim; JUNGKOOK WEARING EARRINGS AND BRACELETS; taehyung is nice (?) (¿question mark?)

a/n.

| this writing was sponsored by red bull, alcohol and fantasies of casual jungkook as well as jungkook in a suit. also, jungkook’s smile is described as tight lipped bc his signature smile appearing is important to the story. also i wanna know y’all’s thoughts on tae. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY THANK U FOR THE COTINUOUS SUPPORT AND LOVE, I WILL CONTINUE TO GIVE MY BEST AND THANK U FOR READING MY STORY <333

Having once spent a sleepless night reading Dante’s inferno, you were well aware of the fact that there are 9 layers of hell.

Though, it seemed the old man had forgotten about the tenth circle: Anywhere with Jeon Jungkook.

Since the first time you met him, you never had any reason to believe that he was a humble character. He had always looked at you from the top of his high horse and he took much pride in trotting on it.

As you, Jungkook and the receptionist wait for the elevator, the air thick with discomfort, you look at the man in front of you and remember that first time.

Your head is invaded with the memory of you in your Hello Kitty pajamas, adorned with grease and all, as you worked on a divorce case that causes you migraines to this day — love is a bitter bitch. It must’ve been past midnight when you and Jin were chewing away pizza slice after pizza slice at the office.

Then, there’s a knock at the door.

“If that’s Namjoon I’m literally going to fire you,” you bark at Jin as you hold his leftover crust on one hand and a document on the other.

And Jin, being the smart ass he is and knowing you wouldn’t survive a day without him, gets up from your leather couch without a word and opens the door, launching himself at none other than Kim Namjoon.

You roll your eyes at the love birds while wondering when the fuck their honeymoon phase was gonna end. You were so sick of them.

“Y/N,” Jin calls you from your desk, urging you to come to the door and once you’re beside him, this time with a cup of coke in your hands, “Can you keep them entertained for a bit? I just gotta grab Namjoon’s meds.”

Before you could say no, the little devil was already running off to his own cubicle, leaving you alone with the all familiar Namjoon and a very much not familiar stranger.

You lean on the doorframe without uttering a single word, sipping on your drink as well as the stranger — Sure, looking back at the moment you kinda just wanna punch yourself in the cooch and tell yourself to get a grip, but you weren’t blinded with hatred at the time, and also not blind — because it isn’t every night that a man clad in a charcoal suit and an unbuttoned shirt, comes knocking at your door; not to mention his watch dazzled under the artificial light and he held the blue tie in his hand with just the right grip.

You’re snapped out of your daze when the man goes from checking the time to whispering something in Namjoon’s ear, covering it the same way eight year olds cover their own secrets, and he laughs. This would all be good and well if he hadn’t looked at you with such appall in his eyes the moment before, the look still clear as day in your mind.

You're reminded that your makeup was probably smudged from all the times you had rubbed your eyes, your skin oily from the tiresome day and you were wearing Hello Kitty pajamas.

Maybe you shouldn’t have taken the insult so personally, but you did.

“I’m here,” Jin is back, a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder as the other one passes him a lunchbox of cold medicines, “What did I miss?”

At this you look up from the pitiful ground, pulling Jin back to your office, and accidentally spill (or throw) your coke at the stranger. You watch in delight as he looks at his very expensive looking suit drenched in a sticky brown, utter terror in his eyes, inhaling the wonderful moment for a second before shutting the door in his face.

The consequences of your actions: an almost two-year long rivalry with the stranger, revealed to be Jeon Jungkook moments after the incident when Jin asked, “Did you just throw your drink at Namjoon’s boss, you crazy bitch?”

And that wave has rippled to this day, in the form of insults and high-school level teasing (if his brain had even evolved to that age). The words “I’ll have you all to myself’ comes to mind; it makes you puff with exasperation. Sure it comes off a little flirty to unknowing ears, but it was just another reminder of Jungkook’s dismay — and that he had an all new access to torture you.

You attempt to shake the ick from your body, but in a trice you found yourself in front of the suite, the four floors you travelled to get there seemingly a glitch in time.

Isabelle scans the room card in front of the handle, handing it over to Jungkook after the green beep. “This is your room!”

You shove Jungkook aside, pulling your trolley as you enter. You had seen the pictures before, but seeing the grand room before your eyes in all of its shades of brown and gray dispersed throughout the walls and furniture, the intricate branch of lights in the ceiling and the panoramic ocean view that gave it its name; it made you forgot who you were sharing it with for a moment.

When you turn around, Jungkook is as wide eyed as you, and it makes the corners of your mouth lift ever so slightly because he looks like a fucking dork.

“Well,” Isabelle is smiling and you could sense her relief of not having to deal with the two of you anymore, “If you need anything, me and the rest of the Royal Sunrise team are available at all times, have fun!”

And just like that, she made her escape, leaving you and Jungkook standing in the middle of the room, alone.

For a moment you shut your eyes as hard as you can, scrunching your face with your fists up, in hopes that a miracle happens and Jungkook disappears. You have been having some odd dreams lately, maybe this was just—

Nope. He’s still there.

Since his eyes seem to have wandered too far, you call out his name to bring him back to earth, crossing your arms when his gaze lands on you, “We should probably talk about a few things.”

He drops the backpack from his back as he nods.

“First of all, the sleeping situation—“

“Yeah, I already thought of that,” he walks to the (very cramped) couch on the other side of the room and pats the armrest, “I’ll take this wonderful bed.”

You look at him with quizzical eyes, wondering how the hell was he of all people going to fit there. But it wasn’t really of your concern if he wanted to get scoliosis, he had made his decision.

“Plus, you need beauty sleep much more than me.”

What a waste of oxygen.

You shrug off his words, immune to his childish remarks at this point, “Okay, then. Next on the list, eating arrangements.”

At this point he’s picking up his things and placing them in his territory, “Why is that on the list?”

You move closer to the windows, a little excited when you see the balcony — you would use it to either push your roommate into the cold ocean or catch up on a few books, tough choice. “Because the tables are arranged by rooms.”

You felt the confusion in his eyes poking at your back, so you turn, “That means that we need to share a table for the next few days, dipshit.”

Jungkook shakes his body in agony, throwing a tiny tantrum, “Why is that even a thing?” He whined.

When you feel a headache coming, you grab your own luggage and place it on top of the bed, opening it up and digging in the pockets for a little bit of liquid luck. God knew you needed it.

You down the sample of Jack Daniels in one go with a bitter face and a blow of air.

“Really?”

You start picking out your pajamas for the night, “I was saving it for when I’d find a hot stranger by the pool but—,” when you look up and see the mess on Jungkook’s couch, you’re taken aback, “What in the world is that?”

Jungkook’s hands are rummaging through the jungle that were his things, and it’s obvious that he just shoved as many clothes as he could find lying around the house. He grabs hold of a white tee, “What?”

Again, a waste of—

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH.”

In the roll of an eye Jungkook’s torso is fully exposed, his back turned towards you with all of its bumps and mumps looking right at you. And you only become aware that you are staring when Jungkook notices the lack of a comeback, pointing it out with a smug tone.

“Y/N,” he doesn’t turn but he snaps you out of your stunned state all the same, “I can practically hear you drooling.”

At the very next instant you cover your eyes, just as little kids do when an inappropriate scene comes on the TV. “You wish, jackass,” and it comes off a little shoutier than you expected, as if the lack of visual correlated with the volume of your voice. Blindly, you grab your shirt and shorts from the bed and run to the bathroom, which just had to be on Jungkook’s side of the room.

And things take a turn for the worse when you run into something, and that something is warm and firm and breathing.

“Uh—.”

Pain.

You convince yourself it was just an invisible, Jungkook shaped wall they failed to mention on the website and fling yourself to the bathroom door, finding the handle rather quickly from all the adrenaline.

Once you’ve slammed the door shut, you let your back slide against the wooden slab and your ass hit the marble floor.

The clothes are still in your grip, your left hand feeling your overheating cheeks and for a tick you think that maybe, just maybe, you should throw yourself into the water and let the sharks take you so you could be buried at the very depths of the ocean. It seemed like a better fate than whatever the fuck was awaiting you the next two weeks.

You take a deep breath in, letting your mind focus on something else.

You look around and, oh, wow. Even the bathroom was charming — if you could ignore the absurd amount of windows, any sea creature passing by would surely see more than they should — glass making up all of the walls, including the shower’s.

The exposure that surrounds you, in its own weird way, cleared up your head the tiniest bit and for the first time since you’ve arrived, you were able to think, only the ocean and its blue around you now.

And what would be your first course of action after a glimpse of clarity?

Calling that rat bastard assistant of yours, of course.

You stand up and place your phone atop the hazel counter after clicking contact name ‘Twinky’, out of fear you’d smash the damn thing when you hear his voice, smoke was bursting at the seams of your chest. Prepare to meet your end, Kim Seokjin—

“Good evening, Ms. Y/N. For what reason are you contacting me in the midst of your vacation?”

Breathe in, breathe out. “Don’t get all formal with me, Kim,” you’re wagging your finger to no one, “I know you did something. Confess.”

The obnoxious twirling of Jin’s chair could be heard through the speaker, “I’ve no idea of what you could possibly be talking about, Madam—“

“Confess.”

“Fine, fine,” you could picture Jin putting his hands up at your murderous tone, “Me and Joon just thought it was about time you two kids got together.”

You take a pause from your pacing around. Motherfucker.

“Okay! I thought it was time and convinced Namjoon to go along with it,” your fist meets the counter with an audible thump, and you were seethed at the probability of Jin smiling at your behaviour. “Speaking of it, how’s it going?”

“Well, Jin,” you place the microphone as near to your mouth as possible, “JEON JUNGKOOK IS TAKING OFF HIS CLOTHES IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING ROOM,” you put on a docile face and naturally assume that Jin could see you telepathically, “So you tell me how it’s going.”

For the first time since you hired him, you had left Jin speechless. Or so you thought.

“I didn’t know you would move this fast—“

“Jin.”

“I apologise, I apologise,” the witch cackles, “But you didn’t give me any context, I only assumed the best.”

“Spare me from your taunts, you hag,” you huff and roll your eyes, “And, as I’ve told you many times before, Jeon Jungkook is literally the worst. I hate—.”

“—him. Yes, Y/N, I’ve been hearing the same speech every single day for two years,” you could hear Jin walking back and forth before an abrupt pause, “Listen to yourself, Y/N, you brought this upon yourself. Whenever you saw or just remembered Jungkook existed you wouldn’t stop talking about him. So, being the good friend I am, I handed you his—,” you rush in a failed attempt to muffle his next words with your hand, “—dick on a silver platter.”

Oh, dear lord.

“You’re out of your mind if you think I wanna be anywhere near Jungkook’s—,” you speak in a hushed tone, “—thing.”

“See, you can’t even say it,” and you give up, because no matter how many times you denied it, Jin never let up. “Anyway, I gotta go and… take a call. Have fun!”

And he hangs up.

All you can do is groan, making a mental note that you oughta kick Jin in the balls one of these days, and you look at yourself in the mirror — you couldn’t even enjoy your tacky shirt because of him. Was a normal vacation really too much to ask for?

You remember that the universe had already answered your question with a big yes, and you can’t help but pout.

Still, ever the changing mind, were you really going to let the universe win?

Your pout turns into a smirk. Of course, you weren’t. All you needed to do was avoid Jungkook as much as possible, that would be easy for sure, you were on a gigantic cruise ship after all.

Yeah, this can still be great.

And so, quick to think as always, you grab your phone and scroll through the Royal Sunrise website.

To your luck, the cruise offered classes and activities of all types with a different theme each day — tomorrow is cooking. Not only was it going to be actually entertaining, you could avoid Jungkook without having to look behind you every other minute.

Genius.

With this new mindset and plan, you change into your oversized navy shirt and banana-printed shorts, a newfound excitement in your step. You even bang your chest with each of your fists, a gorilla-esque fighting technique if you shall, as a way to pump you up.

The door doesn’t seem as intimidating when you push it open, your arms swinging at your side as if you were one of the seven dwarves. This was good.

Immediately you're met with the vexing view of Jungkook, and you quirk your eyes when you notice that all he was wearing was a pair of gray shorts and that white tee, the oddity of it all iffy in your head since you’ve only ever seen him in suits and shirts. There’s a familiar tingling of (what you always assumed was) contempt in your fingertips and toes, one that would only ever occur with Jungkook. Hatred finds a way, huh.

He looks at you, back to his phone and back to you all in one second, and once his brain processes that you’re back and present, he ditches his phone and props himself up on one elbow. “You know the walls aren’t that thick, right?”

The tingle turns into a twitch and you almost hit yourself. Breathe, Y/N.

Jungkook sits up, crossing his arms, his eyes wandering once again, “I knew that Namjoon was planning something. He was sweating so much, I thought it was just the heat,” and they land back on you, “Turns out, it was betrayal.”

You head to your own king-sized resting place and a chuckle slips out of you at Jungkook’s little remark. “You did hear that Jin was the one who dragged him into this, right?”

You’re both pulling your covers over your bodies with silent grins due to the dumbassery of your assistants, “I assumed as much.” At this, your smiles become full-out laughs and your heads must have been too exhausted to dwell on the out of character situation.

It fades after a few seconds and you take one final look at Jungkook before turning off the lights, only to make sure he was already laid down.

Your anxiety comes back to the surface, your eyes staring blankly ahead at the ceiling.

“What a mess,” you don’t even notice you had blurted it out loud.

The rustling of sheets sounds through the otherwise cricket-silent room, “Tell me about it.”

Another chuckle.

“Jungkook,” you call him, the words coming out with no warning, “Can we just promise, no monkey business? I just really wanna relax and—.”

“Y/N,” he stops you before you could yap any further, “No monkey business.”

His interruption makes you sheepish, that tingle coming back as you fiddle with the sheets.

All of the sudden, “Good night, Y/N.”

Silence.

“Don’t be a killjoy.”

Groan. There really isn’t any reason for you to answer the prick. Still, you roll your eyes, “Good night, you troll.”

You hear his pleased sigh.

��Kinda bummed you don’t want my thing, though.”

Damn you, Kim Seokjin.

Your eyes flutter open, not with the calming sound of the dancing waves or the rustling of the sheets beside you from a happy hour mistake, no. You wake up with the sound of the shower running, the drip drop of the water meeting the glass floor of the bathroom.

The walls are very thin.

The image of a very naked Jungkook just next door is forced into your head, and you try to get rid of it by putting a pillow over your face, in hopes that it would put an end to your misery, but the world only gives a hundred problems and zero solutions.

Sat up, you remind yourself of the fresh-new mindset you had implemented yesterday, and this motivates you to restart your morning right and get dressed for the busy day ahead.

You squat down to your bag, grabbing the first jumpsuit and shoes in front of you, surprisingly not too shabby. The black off-shoulder fabric was adorned with pale pink flowers and your basic white sneakers didn’t add much but they were still a welcome fit — you’d only brought three pairs of shoes, so you didn’t really have much of a choice.

The background noise of the shower running disappears.

Shit.

You stumble around the room, trying to switch out of your clothes as fast as you possibly could to avoid any of yesterday’s incidents repeating, the need of any sort of grooming forgotten along the way. Still, you succeeded, and just as Jungkook unlocked the bathroom door, you were out of the room.

The joy in your step was back as you took the few steps needed to the elevators, pressing that little button of victory. Though you’ve been to countless luxury premises, the details of each place still managed to leave you awestruck, and the black railing and golden walls of the ship with decoration clearly inspired by the Romans, weren’t an exception.

The elevator was going from the sixth floor to the fifth when you heard a door open, the hairs of your back standing up out of instinct.

“Wait up!”

Fuck me.

You turn to the left, met with the, once again, odd view of Jeon Jungkook wearing casual clothes, this time in a charcoal shirt a few sizes too big, black cargo pants and signature chunky shoes. But, there’s something even more strange and you can’t quite put a finger to it, it isn’t the fact his lavish watch was replaced with leather braids on his wrist or that his hairs strayed a bit more wildly, it’s—

“Holy shit,” your eyes shoot wide open, “Are those hoops?”

Your hands almost go to touch the silver in his ears, but you remind yourself you’d probably turn to stone.

An unfamiliar red paints Jungkook’s face as his own fingers prod at the earrings, his eyes not meeting yours, “Maybe.”

A gasp. “How did I never notice,” you state more than ask, but Jungkook answers all the same.

“I mean, I never wear them to anything work-related because keeping a professional image and all of that,” he looks at you, his bashfulness fading into an all-knowing smile, “And those are the only times I see your bitter face.”

You scoff, “Wow, actually we talked like normal people for a whole thirty seconds.”

The imp has the audacity to laugh at your face, the way he stops to scan you up and down going unnoticed by your sight. “I gotta say, Y/N, you actually know how to dress—“

Ding.

The black tinted doors open to the glass elevator, a panorama of all the ship’s floors in full display, blue and purple lights reflecting on the gilded ornaments. Your hands rest on the black railing and you don’t even notice there’s another person in the elevator.

“Y/N?” The deep timbre of the voice is all too easy on your ears.

A slight turn to the right is all it takes to see him, fluffy ash hair (that was rough between your fingers from all the times he had dyed it), a shirt that flowed like the clouds and beige slacks that matched with the sepia of his sandals (an ensemble that contrasted the vibrant version of him in your memory). But that square grin was still the same.

“Tae?” You laugh in utter disbelief, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Come here!” His long arms bring you into a hug and with your head nuzzled against his chest, his heartbeat echoed good times, easier times that weren’t filled with paperwork and suits.

It’s interrupted by your forgotten acquaintance clearing his throat.

You pull away, recomposing yourself as you stand beside Taehyung, “Jungkook, this is Kim Taehyung,” you feel Taehyung’s eyes on you, “He was kind of my college boyfriend.”

They shake hands and look back at you, as if waiting for something.

“Uh— Right. Tae, this is Jungkook, my—,” you glance at the brunet to find the right words, “—co-worker, of sorts.”

Your embarrassment only deepens when you remember that the Jeon Jungkook was a first-hand witness to the mess you were melting into in front of your ex-boyfriend.

Who needed caffeine when shit like this kept happening to you.

“Oh,” Taehyung’s voice drops an octave as he shoves his hands in his pockets, “So you two came together?”

And you wave your arms around to signal a ‘no’, but it comes off as ‘that-one-crackhead-at-the-corner-of-the-street-ish” instead. “God, no,” you snort, much to your chagrin.

Taehyung sticks his tongue between his teeth, staring down at Jungkook who was chewing on his own bottom lip, “That’s good to hear.”

It seems you’ve regressed to your college-self, tucking your hair behind your ear with blushed cheeks at your senior.

Ding.

The elevator had arrived at the first floor, Jungkook’s cue to leave.

But he doesn’t make a straight itinerary, instead standing in front of the elevator, “Aren’t you gonna catch breakfast, chump?”

Ah, right. Your genius plan could finally come out in the open, “No, actually. I have an all-day cooking class on the 5th floor.”

“No kidding,” Taehyung turns to you and places a hand on your bare shoulder with a wide smile, “Me too!”

At this, Jungkook’s shoulders slump and his expression falls flat, but you couldn’t get a word in as the elevator doors closed and he swiveled away to his own day.

Eh, it’s not like it was your affair anyways. Plus, 9AM wasn’t the hour to deal with his bullshit.

You and Taehyung made your way up, speaking of all the things you’ve been up to for the past three years.

“So, Jimin’s dancing in Europe,” you gasp, a swell of pride in your chest, your old friend would talk about it every free night he spent in yours and Taehyung’s flat.

“Yeah, now I don’t know who’s keeping an eye on all the dumb shit he does.”

The weight on your shoulders only got lighter with every laugh you shared with Taehyung, sweet nostalgia.

“We’re here,” you point at the chalk sign, the words ‘Bon Appetit’ scribbled on it.

Out of sheer intuition, you pull Taehyung by the wrist until you reach the entrance, a Royal Sunrise worker awaiting with a list of, what could only be, the names of the participants.

You let go of Taehyung when the man’s eyes travel to your holding hands. Oh, God.

He smiles, “Good morning, Mr. and Ms. What would your names be?”

“Good morning, I’m Y/N Y/LN,” your smile hadn’t left your face, “I signed up yesterday.”

He nods and you walk inside, Taehyung following you before the worker puts up a hand to stop him.

“Your name, sir,” his tone changes..

You look back, wondering what the fuss was about.

“Uh— Kim Taehyung.”

The man reads over the clipboard, even flipping to the previous pages. “Excuse me, Mr. Kim. But your name doesn’t seem to be in the—.”

Taehyung’s calm demeanour becomes a bitter scowl as he pats a fifty dollar note down the man’s pocket before he could continue his speech. “Just let this one slide, buddy.”

The sight is a bit rough on the eyes and the corners of your lips turn downwards, something itching at your throat, but you hadn’t seen him in a long time and he most likely had good intentions with the man, you could let it slide, right?

“So,” Taehyung rubs his hands with a smile that reaches the pillows of his eyes, a 360° from the him you saw a few seconds ago, “Where were we?”

The blue of the sky had faded into a deep lilac once you and Taehyung were finished with your last batch of food.

You stood outside with smiles plastered on your faces and flour sprinkled on your hair, reminders of a day well-spent.

“This was great,” you held boxes of chocolate crepes and mushroom pasta, “Except for the fact I was forced to eat and deal with mushrooms.”

Taehyung’s eyebrows pull together, “So many years together, and I didn’t know you hated mushrooms,” you remember telling him countless times, but he never had the best memory — you don’t bother to bring up your hatred for crepes. “But, yeah… I think it was the company that sealed the deal, though.”

A beat of silence. The boy was smooth as ever.

You’re the first to break it. “I guess I’ll go get dinner then.”

“Right, right,” he purses his lips, “I’m gonna catch a nightcap, too full for food anyways. See you, Y/N.”

And you only mumble a small goodbye before you and Taehyung are going different directions.

A day well spent indeed.

Grumble.

You couldn’t keep it in anymore.

Holy Moses, were you hungry as shit. Who knew that barely eating breakfast and lunch could do this to a person.

Once the coast is clear, you run to the elevator, pressing the button repeatedly because why is this thing so fucking slow.

The time taken to go down to the first floor is even more agonising, but you just imagined the wonderful meals that actually tasted like food waiting for you downstairs. You could feel the pork melting in your mouth already.

Ding.

Since the first floor is more packed, you pace yourself as you power-walk to the dining area but you arrive in no time, walking through the tables and scanning each marker for the number 83, until you finally find your salvation — and the mop of brown hair sitting there with its unmistakable silver.

You park your ass on the wooden chair and place the white boxes of gag-worthy food on the table.

“Fancy meeting you here, Y/N,” Jungkook shoves a fork of rare steak and potatoes in his big mouth.

“Don’t antagonise me, Jungkook,” you leap to grab his wrist before he can get another scoop, “Where’s the food?”

You feel him tense under your grip, “Okay, let go of me, hungry hungry hippo,” you loosen your fist and lean back on your chair with crossed arms, “And the restaurant is out of steaks for the night, your only other option is some fried fish or something,” he continues munching.

“No—,” your head meets the table with a bang, “—I’ve been dreaming of red meat all day.”

“Didn’t you cook at— you know, cooking class?”

“Yes, we did,” you sit up and shove the boxes of trash to Jungkook as he examines them.

“But, you hate mushrooms and crepes,” he turns his head in a robotic motion when he opens the lids.

Your hunger fades for a bit as that tingle in your fingertips pushes you to sit straight, leaning your head like a curious puppy.

“How do you know that?”

Jungkook bites his bottom lip as he seems to think of a response. “Well, you mentioned it at the Law & Practice Awards a few months ago,” he rubs his fingers on his chin with a feign look of concentration, “I believe your exact words were: ‘Why does the stake have fungus on it’ and ‘Everybody knows that crepes are just a—.”

“—a cheap version of pancakes,” you finish his sentence with surprise painted on your face. Still, you question him, “But, how do you even remember that?”

Jungkook’s flush is back on his cheeks, “As they say, keep your friends close,” he flashes that tight lipped smile of his, “And your enemies closer.”

Just as you were about to flip the fucker off, your stomach grumbles. Out of all of the moments it could’ve complained, it decided to do so in the only second of silence.

Jungkook mumbled something along the lines of “That’s it,” under his breath and let out a sharp exhale, cutting up his steak and taters and pushing them into a smaller plate, adding a few greens in the mix. He snaps his fingers at the nearest waiter and grabs a glass of wine from his tray. The act finishes off with him pushing the food in your direction.

You stare at the food, at Jungkook and back at the plate again. Dumbfounded, once again.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Eat,” he continues on with his dinner as if he hadn’t just done— Well, what he just did.

You bite your lip and bow your head slightly, though you’re sure he doesn’t see it, before vacuuming the food directly into your belly.

The rest of the evening is spent in comfortable silence, no daggers threatened to be thrown or scorn weighing in the air. This lasts all the way to the door of the room; you were fine with communicating with only ‘hums’ and nods but Jungkook, as always, had to ruin things.

He leans his back against the white door, arms crossed and a smirk as he looks down at you. “How lucky of you to have your mortal enemy and—,” he puts up air quotes, “‘kind of college boyfriend’ in the same boat as you, huh?”

You palm your face and hide a sheepish smile, “I was hoping you’d forget about that.”

“How could I when I was your special guest to first hand embarrassment in the elevator,” he waves the white flag of peace as he puts his hands up, “But, hey—“

“Hi, Jungkook,” someone behind you purrs, heels clacking.

You turn around and see a woman of jet-black hair in a stunning red silk dress, the pony-tail on her head swinging a delicate left to right as she waved her manicured hand at none other than Jungkook — who brushes a hand through his hair before complimenting her greeting.

It takes you by surprise, though you laughed at Jungkook’s gnarly stance at the beautiful woman, the tingle comes back, this time prickling at the pit of your stomach.

As soon as she had walked away, you rubbed your hands at the sides of your arms, “Wow, Jungkook. Moving fast are we?” you squint your eyes, “I think it’s the earring.”

“First of all, screw you,” he unlocks the door, “Second, that’s nothing, trust me.”

He holds the door open for you and you catch a whiff of his black vanilla scent. You stop in your tracks and place a hand on his shoulder with a grimace on your face, “Just don’t do anything on my bed, okay?”

You don’t bother to wait for an answer as you head to the bathroom with your comfy tee in your hands.

This time, the counter was embellished with skincare and cologne galore, all thanks to your dear roommate.

“He wouldn’t notice if I used some of this, right?” You say to Jungkook’s bottle of cleanser, too lazy to go back and grab your own toiletries.

“If you use that I’m drowning myself,” you hear him shout from the other room.

Sorry, face. You’ll have to wait for tomorrow.

Once you were snug in your tee, you were off to bed — Jungkook in the same attire as yesterday as well.

You leave the lamp on as you checked your phone for the first time since yesterday. Of course, Jin was your only notification, a plethora of obscenities and questions that would, unfortunately, be permanently ingrained in your mind forever. You turn off your phone and throw it on top of the night stand.

Not today, satan.

“You mind?” You ask Jungkook who seemed to be scrolling away, too engrossed in his phone to look at your finger pointing at the light, only a grunt on his behalf.

You turn it off and shut your eyes, your body tense, not that you weren’t used to it, the decaying muscles of your back have been like that since you graduated high-school. And, it was a bit more intense from all the mixing and pot handling — thank the heavens that tomorrow’s activities involved massaging. Though, today was a win.

Jungkook’s phone turns off and his body sloshes around, the sounds he makes the only ones reverberating in the room.

“Good night, Y/N,” you try to ignore him, but he comes forward with a good case, “Come on, I gave you my food.”

Guilt tripper.

“Fine, but only because you’re annoying as shit,” he lets out a satisfied breath, “Good night, Jungkook.”

You arrive at dreamland in no time.

taglist. (open)

| @fangirl125reader / @vantxx95 / @jinpanman / @ggukkieland / @miniiimee / @paizthemaiz

#jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #enemies to lovers #jungkook e2l #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #v x reader #bts au #lawyer! jungkook #bts smut #taehyung #nuisance. #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fluff #jk angst #jk fic

[sassycassie-s-writing]

A Future That’s Worth It

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Rhysand

Rating: PG/K+ (lots of implications but nothing explicit)

Original Idea: Nothing in particular.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I have some headcanons on height and weight of the characters that I used for this one. Have fun!

^^^^^

The bed dipped behind me. I’d been more than halfway to sleep, but the movement shocked me awake. I rolled over.

Rhysand gave me a lazy smile. “Evening, love,” he said. “Did I wake you?”

“Technically no, but a little bit.”

“Sorry.” The look on his face implied he was in no way genuinely apologetic. He shuffled to get more comfortable, one wing draping over the two of us, and loosed a long sigh. I snuggled against his bare chest, eyes on his tattoos.

“Something the matter?” I asked quietly. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

“If I never have to truly fight again, for the rest of what will hopefully be a very long life, I will be grateful,” he said, breath fluttering my loose hairs.

“Me too,” I agreed.

I felt a claw against my mental shields, a single, gentle drag against the black marble I used to keep my private thoughts private. A request for entry. I reached out tiredly to feel his own mental shield was already lowered. A rare occurrence for him. He had one of the most complex shields I’d ever experienced.

I let the shield drop. His presence overwhelmed me almost immediately. I’d probably never fully witness the extreme depth of his power, but it dominated over my little well of magic by what was probably thousands of times.

His presence was the comforting, healing darkness of lovers clinging to one another. The gentle shade under a wide oak tree on a hot summer day. Nothing of the sharp, secret darkness of spies and assassins. The soft night of dreams. “Do you feel peace, now?” I asked. “Now that the King of Hybern is dead and his army decimated?”

“It’ll take years for me to reach true peace for that, after all the pain and death and suffering. But I feel peace right now, holding you. I feel a grim tranquility in knowing I would gladly cause more carnage if it meant keeping you safe. I hated releasing that beast inside me during the war, but I’ll always go feral to protect what’s mine. You, our family, this city, our people. All of it. I would fight until my own death to ensure the future of those I’m responsible for.”

“Self-sacrificing fool,” I teased. There was no bite to the words.

“You’re one too,” he retorted with the same tired lack of malice.

“Never said I wasn’t. Therefore, you can’t call me a hypocrite.”

“Touché.”

I wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer to me. “Get some sleep, High Lord. We both need it.”

He brushed some of my loose hairs from my face. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you too.” I smiled slightly.

The sweet caress of his darkness in my mind soothed all the day’s worries. If neither of us ever had to pick up a blade for a battle ever again, it would be too soon.

I reached up with the hand around his waist and stroked the bone of his wing. He shivered, but he’d taught me where to touch to calm, and where to touch to excite. His other muscles were pliant, relaxed, as I ran my fingers gently over his wing.

We put each other to sleep not long after that.

—

“—told him it was a bad idea, but he was just like, ‘Stop telling me how to live my life!’” Mor’s loud voice woke me the next morning as the doors opened downstairs, the last bit dropping as low as she could go in a horrible but hilarious imitation of Cassian. Amren’s laughter followed.

The bed was empty besides me, but Rhys’ side was still warm.

I got up and pulled on my dressing gown over my nightgown. I brushed my hair briefly so it wasn’t quite so tangled and ventured out of our room.

Mor and Amren had already made it to the kitchen and were raiding the pantry for breakfast.

“What’s a bad idea?” I asked around a yawn.

“Cassian was gonna challenge Azriel to a flying race. From the House to the roof here,” Mor explained, pointing directly overhead.

“Azriel’s gonna win,” I said.

“That’s what I said. Cassian didn’t listen.”

I chuckled, joining them for breakfast.

Amren looked around. “Where’s your High Lord?”

“I was gonna ask you two the same thing. I assumed he got out of bed and came down to talk to you guys. Sheets were still warm when I woke up.”

Mor’s expression turned to one of amused dread. “He’s gonna join the race,” she said.

“I bet you’re right,” I replied. I rubbed my eyes. “They are five-and-a-half centuries old and they still behave like children.”

“Glad you’re his mate and not me,” Amren said with a smile as she drank from her goblet and shuddered. She hated food still, but she no longer had a choice.

“Frankly, me too,” I said. “I can’t imagine the chaos the two of you would cause.”

Mor laughed.

I assume you’re at the House of Wind? I thought down the bond, pushing the thought hard to make sure he received it.

Yep, Rhys’ voice replied in my mind.

I’ll be on the roof. Mor and I will referee.

I don’t know what you’re talking about. The words were too laced with laughter to be the truth.

Children. All three of you, I fired back.

All I got in return was his rumbling laughter. Distant thunder promising a welcome summer storm.

“Wanna join me on the roof?” I offered to Mor and Amren.

“Not really,” Amren replied.

“I will,” Mor said.

The two of us climbed up the stairs and sat on the white-painted iron chairs. Mor had a cup of tea and I had a mug of molten chocolate.

I looked up at the House of Wind. So far, there were no figures flying around its peak.

Mor lounged on her chair and eyed me. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrugged. The early spring air was still clinging to the cold of winter and my satin dressing gown and nightgown were clinging to the cold right along with it, but it was something of a welcome change after the stifling heat under the covers in bed. “I’ll be fine for how long it’ll take Rhys and his brothers to get here.”

You ready? I asked.

Waiting on you, he replied.

We’re ready.

Then look up.

“They’re going,” I said to Mor, turning my attention back to the House.

Sure enough, three figures leapt off a balcony near the peak, streaking in a straight line toward us, wings barely extended to keep them aloft and at the angle they wanted. From their distance I couldn’t make out who was who yet, but I knew it wouldn’t take long.

“Five gold marks on Azriel,” I said.

“Aren’t you supposed to always bet on Rhys?” Mor teased.

“Azriel is lighter than Rhys and Cassian. I’m making an educated guess.”

She laughed. “Okay. Five gold marks on Rhys then.”

We watched them get closer.

“Rhys is going to be offended you bet against him,” Mor remarked.

“Probably,” I agreed.

“Rhys can winnow and Azriel… kinda does to. With the shadows. I’m not sure how he does it,” Mor mused. “But, Cassian—he just flies everywhere. So he’s probably a little better at it than both of them. More practiced, you know?”

I nodded. “Yeah… how about, if Cassian wins, we each give Amren five marks?”

Mor laughed. “She’d love and hate that. That we made her bet for her and chose Cassian.”

I shrugged. “Probably. But she wouldn’t mind the money.”

“Not at all.”

I caught glints of blue and red. Rhys was on the left, no Siphons, with Cassian in the middle and Azriel to the right. I still couldn’t tell who was in front, but it looked like I might have been right about Azriel. He looked like he was barely ahead of Rhys and Cassian.

As the three drew closer, I realized this was the future we’d fought the war for. The future full of fun and joy. The future of stupid games and meaningless bets. No gambling lives. Just a few marks for no reason other than fun. If Rhys never turned into that beast again, if he’d done enough to ensure our safety and security—finally—then it was all worth it.

They were close enough to see their faces now. Mor and I cleared a place where three could land all close to the same time and not knock over any furniture or trip. While Mor thought it’d be funny, I didn’t want anyone to face-plant off the roof.

Azriel slammed feet first into the roof. I thought I heard the attic rattle. Rhys hit barely half a second after, with Cassian right behind.

Mor gave me a long-suffering glance and sipped her tea. “I owe you five marks,” she said before flouncing back downstairs.

“You placed bets?” Cassian asked.

“You’re surprised?” I retorted sharply. Azriel snorted quietly.

“Fair enough,” Cassian said.

“You bet against me?” Rhys sounded offended even as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. His warmth banished the cold clinging to my dressing gown.

I shrugged nonchalantly, refusing to rise to his bait. “Azriel’s lighter than both of you. Skinnier. He can probably cut through the air easier. I made an educated guess,” I said, repeating what I said to Mor. I tilted up onto my tiptoes and kissed Rhys’ chin, since he was too tall for me to reach his cheek.

Rhys chuckled. “That’s okay, because I owe Cassian ten marks. I bet on Azriel too.” He kissed my forehead. The four of us still on the roof started making our way down. “So, what’s for breakfast?”

“Whatever anyone can find!” Mor shouted from below.

I grabbed Rhys’ wrist and held him so Cassian and Azriel would get ahead of us. When we were alone, I wrapped my arms around him. “This is the future we—you—fought for,” I whispered. “Is it worth it, to you?”

“I can’t think of anything more worth it.”

“Me neither.”

We held each other for a few more moments.

Then Cassian was calling us to haul downstairs before the food was gone.

Laughing, we descended.

#Rhysand #Rhysand Imagine #Rhysand FanFiction #ACOTAR #ACOTAR Imagine #ACOTAR FanFiction #A Future That's Worth It

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Seven: The Second Day of Nostos

@cheshiya @tenseoyong @szallejhscorner @something-more-original-please @ofsunsetsandpoetries @nek0dzuken @allozaur @serenzippity @hiqhkey

Another update! This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but life just kept getting in the way. But thank heavens it’s here now :) 

I’ll stick the AO3 link here  for the ones that want it. Thanks for reading <3

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

There were two things I had come to enjoy here in the Borderlands. The first was the freedom I had now that the old world and all of its problems were gone. The second was waking up beside Chishiya.

Usually I was the first to fall asleep and he was the first to wake up, so it was rare that he was still around when I opened my eyes. This morning was different. His face was angled away from me, and his hair was splayed across the pillow, almost obscuring his face from view. Almost, but not quite. Curling up at his side, I observed the way his sly smile had become slack, disappearing entirely as it made way for something far different. 

He probably hadn’t intended on sleeping in like this, but the exhaustion of the previous day was overwhelming. I remained there for a long time, peeking out at him from beneath the sheets until his breathing lightened and he started to stir. One eye cracked open, squinted, then slid over to mine. 

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Just enjoying the fact that you’re not dead.’ 

He raised a brow. ‘Between the two of us, you’re more likely to get shot than I am.’ 

What should’ve been a snarky comment came across flat and uninterested. Now that he was awake, the shadows beneath his eyes were more pronounced, and I could see the dark roots of his hair had grown longer. It was strange to see him looking this weary, but even Chishiya was only human. He was no more immune to bullets than I was. 

‘What are you thinking about now?’ 

I could tell by his tone that he was trying to taunt me. But my thoughts were detached. I couldn’t stop thinking about the game. ‘Yesterday, it wasn’t just me who cleared it. An was there too, with two girls from the Beach. They said that the King of Spades attacked their camp right after the second stage started.’ 

He quietly considered it for a moment. ‘And we were close enough to hear the gunshots. He probably started with the camp before heading over to us.’ 

Heading over to us? 

‘You don’t mean…’

‘He knows the location of all the players,’ Chishiya said. 

That’s not… 

No, it was fair. Once a player knew about his game, it was easy to avoid him just by mapping out the location of his blimp and remaining as far from it as possible. Him knowing the players’ locations only evened out the playing field. 

‘An told me something else too. Apparently he moves all across Tokyo. Aside from the other game venues, the whole city is his arena.’

I thought this would’ve piqued Chishiya’s interest more, but as expected he was already a step ahead. ‘I realised the same thing when he chased you. It makes sense they would plan things this way. They’re trying to drive players into the game venues.’ He sat up a little, resting against the headboard and lacing his fingers together. ‘While you were in your game, another one was cleared. The King of Clubs.’ 

The hardest of the Clubs games. It made sense that those ones would be completed pretty quickly, given the chance of survival was the highest. ‘That was pretty quick.’ 

‘I suppose it was,’ Chishiya retorted. ‘But I have a feeling I know who cleared it.’ 

‘Hm?’ 

‘Arisu.’ 

Arisu? The last time I had seen him was when he was with… ‘Kuina was probably there too. An said when their camp split up, she got into a car with Arisu and Tatta. They must’ve gone to the game venue together.’ 

And if they cleared it, that meant they were still alive. They had to be. Knowing Arisu, he would’ve taken Usagi with him too. I almost felt like I could rest easy if the four of them were safe. Although they must’ve met the King of Clubs while they were there. 

‘The Queen of Diamonds died.’ I hated how thick my voice sounded. ‘But I wish she didn’t. Is that okay?’ I looked up, meeting Chishiya’s stony gaze. ‘I mean, is it okay for me to like her?’ 

‘I don’t see why it matters whether you do or don’t,’ he replied. ‘The outcome is the same.’  

I could still see her smile right before the wood gave way, a sort of peace mixed with relief. ‘I thought she was going to be evil or scary, kind of like Mira.’ The way she’d picked out the footage of mine and Arisu’s first games, the provocation was like a test. The Queen of Diamonds though, had been totally different. ‘She wasn’t like Mira at all. Right from the start, she wanted us to win.’ 

Chishiya was watching the dust motes glide in the sunlight, idly listening. ‘Did you find out anything?’ 

‘I’ve dedicated my whole life to the pursuit of knowledge, but I’ve learned to be satisfied with not knowing.’

‘She was a player,’ I told him. ‘She didn’t know about the Borderlands either.’ 

He mulled it over quietly. ‘I thought so.’ 

Chishiya knew they were players? 

I sat up in bed. ‘There’s no way you could’ve known that.’

‘It was just an idea,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been here longer than you. I’ve thought a lot about the possibilities.’ He paused for a minute, then smiled ironically. ‘It’s very possible we could all be dead.’ 

It was a horrible idea, the thought that all our efforts to survive were in vain. Or perhaps, it was one big test of character to determine our place in an afterlife. And if we died in a game, would it be a second death, or would it allow us to proceed to a further level of some kind? Was it a true death at all? 

‘I’d like to think we’re still alive,’ I admitted. ‘You probably don’t care, but I’d like to go back to the real world with you.’ 

‘Oh? And what makes you think there’s a way back at all?’ 

Hatter’s theory had been only half correct. But while the Queen had avoided telling us everything, she’d revealed even more than she perhaps intended. ‘The Queen of Diamonds said she went through the same thing we did, found all the cards, and then completed the face card games like we’re doing now. But then she called the others citizens. If we’re currently here on a visa-basis, maybe clearing all the games gives us the chance of a permanent citizenship—’

‘If that’s so, it’d only prove my point.’ 

‘No.’ I shook my head, thinking back to the game. ‘She also mentioned that she chose to stay here. If there’s a choice to stay, it means there’s a choice to leave.

I could see Chishiya’s mind working, taking it all in. It was as if he absorbed all the knowledge he encountered, storing it up and processing it for use later. He didn’t respond to my theory, but simply accepted it, and relaxed against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. As he tilted his head back, the dressing over his neck was exposed, and I suddenly became aware that we were still wearing our old, bloodied clothes. 

I really, really need a wash. And new clothes. And new bed sheets. 

Climbing out of the bed, I left Chishiya and made my way to the bathroom to clean up a little. However, when I passed the mirror above the sink and saw the face staring back at me, my mouth fell open. 

This can’t be me. 

My skin looked thinner and sallow, and without the Beach’s constant food supply, I’d lost weight, only not in a good way. The girl in the mirror was haggard and I barely even recognised her. While Chishiya had cleaned the dried blood from my forehead the night before, there were still flakes in my hairline and my face was dirtied. 

I reached for the bottle of water beside the sink, except the plastic crinkled, empty. Throwing it away, I then checked the bathroom cupboards for our extra supply, but they too were empty. 

You’re kidding me… 

A quick search of the store revealed that we’d run out of water entirely. If our little hideout were closer to the river, it wouldn’t be a problem. However the river was too far away to collect water on a daily basis, and with the King of Spades out there, it wasn’t worth the risk. There had to be some way of storing water for the long-run. 

Standing in the small kitchen, I could hear the muffled creaks of Chishiya moving about upstairs. And then the idea hit me. Walking out into the hallway, I called up the stairs, ‘I’m just going out to get something! I won’t be too long!’ 

There was no reply, but I knew he’d heard me as the noises quietened. He then appeared at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister with an unimpressed smirk. 

‘Are you sure that’s a good idea? The last time you ran off on your own, you stole the Queen of Diamonds game.’ 

His words stung, even if they’d been said teasingly. I hadn’t intended to steal the Queen of Diamonds Game. I only ran inside the building because there were others sheltering in there. I desperately wanted to tell him this, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Chishiya may not have directly blamed me for what happened, but there was clearly some resentment that he hadn’t been able to complete the game himself. In his eyes, it didn’t matter. 

And that hurt. It really, really hurt.  

‘I’ll stay away from the King of Spades,’ I called out before leaving the furniture store. 

It was warm out here in Tokyo, but not a pleasant warm. The air was dull and sticky, as if the city was thirsty for rain. 

There must be a storm coming.

I took my time wandering through the silent streets and deeper into the city centre. Even here, the only sound was that of the birds building homes in vacant office blocks, and aside from a deer grazing on the grass in an empty lot, there was nobody around. 

Luckily, I had explored this side of Tokyo enough that I’d formed my own mental map of the area, and I easily found the camping store where Kuina had picked up our current stove. Inside, the place was scavenged, and I had to step over several boxes until I found the section I was looking for. There were several water containers, but none of them were quite what I had in mind.

I ambled further down the streets until the road opened up into a car park. It was lined by several walkways leading into large, white interconnected buildings. Two tall clocks stood above a disused bus station and taxi rank. And as I walked further down the road, there were ambulances lined up outside. 

I followed a series of steps led up to the main entrance, but once I was inside, the sunlight cut off. While an abandoned Tokyo was eerie, a dark, dusty hospital was a thing of nightmares. Just inside the entrance was an international poster stuck to the wall, with the same phrase written in different word-art fonts and various languages. 

‘Welcome to Nihon University Itabashi Hospital!’ 

I walked further inside, passing a reception desk and a waiting area. It was evident that other players had been inside here, as there was litter on the ground, and some of the store rooms lay open, their contents emptied out.

Strolling along the corridors, I explored the theatre facilities. There were drawers upon drawers of syringes and sterile metal trays of surgical tools, and aside from a thin layer of dust, the hospital beds were all intact. If it weren’t for the King of Spades and the danger of other players, the hospital would make a decent camp for a group of survivors. But on second thought, I wasn’t prepared to give up the warmth and comfort of waking up next to Chishiya. Retreating back out of the wards, it was in a main corridor where I finally found what I was searching for. 

A water dispenser. 

Unlike the others, this didn’t open from a cap in the top, but rather the container had a tap at the bottom. It was perfect for Chishiya and I. Rather than having bottles of water lying around, we could simply fill it up and keep it as a main water source. It was balanced on top of a platform, unattached. But the container was filled with water already, and barely budged when I tried to lift it. Wrapping my arms around the body, I lugged it forward, right as a loud clap resounded through the hall. 

The echo of a drawer slamming. 

Someone’s here?! 

Holding my breath, my arms slid away from the water container. I could hear it clearer now, the rustles of someone rooting through drawers of supplies. It was coming from the ward opposite me. Every instinct told me to leave quietly the way I came. My thudding heart screamed at me to get out now. 

I should’ve listened. 

Inching forward on tiptoe, I peered around the doorway into what looked like a recovery ward. On the right, the door to a stock room had been kicked open, the rustling growing louder as I approached. A tall man with dark fabric wrapped around his head was hunched over a desk. He muttered something, and my heart stilled. 

‘What the hell’s this shit? Ah, forget it.’ 

No. 

He was dead… wasn’t he? 

‘Where the fuck do they keep the morphine anyway?’ 

He’s alive, he’s alive, he’s alive. 

My eyes gaped, unblinking, at the stock room door. I didn’t want to look but I couldn’t bring myself to look away either. The memory of his eyes burned through my mind. The sheer, unrestrained rage, and the desire to kill, I’d seen it all through the tatters of his singed shirt as he looked up at me from down below in the hotel lobby and pulled the trigger. I needed to leave. I needed to leave now. 

I took a step back. 

Clink. 

The tiny, hollow clatter of a syringe rolling across the vinyl had never felt louder. It rolled across the width of the hall, before tapping against a doorframe. The rustling inside the store room suddenly stopped, and at that moment, we both knew. 

#alice in borderland #chishiya alice in Borderland #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #Chishiya x reader #chishiya x oc #aib #Imawa no Kuni no Arisu

[cherrywoes]

dark sun. (ryoumen sukuna x fem! vessel! reader x oc.)

iii. yugen.

— a profound awareness of the universe that triggers feelings too deep and mysterious for words.

rating: mature.

warnings: mentions of forced child bearing, violence.

YOUR NEW HOME was small, but much larger than the tiny closet that you had been sleeping in for the past several years. A bed with a mattress lay in the center of the room, the headboard pushed against the wall, and a desk and nightstand were the only other furniture to occupy it. It was much more modern than you had expected, but still kept to the traditional layout that most of the campus had to begin with. It smelled of wood polish, cleaner, and a faint incense that was making your stomach roll unpleasantly.

“They burned sage here,” Sayaka explained quietly. She stood behind you right before the threshold of the door, holding your bag while you scoped out your new abode. The rest of the ten minute walk had been silent between the both of you, filled with Ama-no-Kagaseo’s malice, Sayaka’s worry, and your disturbing apathy at the event. She kept running her fingers over the rope handles of your bag, working at each stray strand until it fell apart. “The previous tenant passed away violently and had lingering energy in the room.”

It was a convenient lie. Sorcerers didn’t ‘haunt’ in the same way that humans would haunt their homes, families, or killers; they did not remain behind at all. Wherever they went, there was no trace of them left behind. You knew that much from a book you’d snuck from Yaga when you were younger, before you were ever a vessel. Sayaka likely didn’t know that you were aware of that fact, nor would you allow her to be. You had to be clever now; you weren’t going to lose your freedom so easily now that you had it. And if that meant hiding things from Sayaka for now, then so be it.

“I see.” Ama-no-Kagaseo’s energy swept through the room and extinguished the incense burning in a corner. The smoke dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, floating up between the slats in the ceiling and encouraged to vanish by an incorporeal hand. You would have a headache later because of the smell, but you already felt better because it was gone. You, like Ama-no-Kagaseo, had an extreme sensitivity to anything purifying or cleansing in nature—although it couldn’t kill you, it could severely cripple your senses enough to the point where you would black out. Whether or not Ama-no-Kagaseo took over was his choice after that. You had discovered that little factoid after accidentally touching a blessed object in an elder’s office. “What am I to do here? I know they wouldn’t just let me stay here without some caveat in return.”

Sayaka followed you inside and set your bag beside the door. “There were whispers of having you keep an eye on Gojou and Itadori Yuuji, but I don’t know if they ever came to an actual decision over it.”

Oh, it was too convenient—in the off chance that Gojou would wield Yuuji to take down the elders and crooked system of clans and power, you would be there to keep them in check, to counterbalance the scales into neutrality’s favor. It was a good plan, a smart one, but you highly doubted they had factored in one thing: Ama-no-Kagaseo did not follow orders.

“Right. Of course not.” You pressed your fingers into the mattress, testing the softness. Beneath the fabric, your fingertips gave way to springs, hard and slightly broken in from where someone else had slept in a specific position. It groaned beneath your slight weight and you pulled back, eyes darting around the room to search for a futon—that would be infinitely more comfortable than this bed. “So, if I’m not going to do that, then what am I going to do? Sit here and rot until they call for me?”

You were bitter, and understandably so. Your freedom was on the leash of the elders who held the other end, usually with an iron fist and heavy hand. You were always raised to never bite the hand that feeds, but it was looking far too tempting right now. You could understand Gojou, just a little bit, and his frustration with the way things worked among the sorcerer society, but it did not make you feel guilty for what Ama-no-Kagaseo did to him. Not quite.

“Just…” Sayaka sighed and sat down on a cushion at the foot of your bed. She hid her hands in her pockets, fiddling with something that sounded vaguely like a chain or chain links clinking together like windchimes. She didn’t seem nervous, for once, but more exhausted—lethargic, even. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced than usual, her cheeks sunken and a little wan in the light. You hadn’t paid much mind to the changes in her appearance, but when she let her guard down it was apparent that she was tired. “Be careful. The president of the Kyoto campus is coming soon for the events—no, I didn’t ask—and he’ll want to see you, presumably.”

For just a moment, you had thought she would open up to you. Your gut tumbled with disappointment.

“When am I ever not careful?” With a slight scoff and a roll of your eyes, you evaded the cushion next to her and opted for sitting at the windowsill instead. It offered a perfect view of the courtyard and a small garden out behind it, flowers just barely peeking out over the stone paths. The wood was rough and unsanded, but you tolerated it just to maintain distance between yourself and Sayaka. “My entire life has been nothing but ‘careful’. You don’t have to tell me that, Fujiwara-san.”

You could feel her flinch at the sound of her last name. You never used her last name, at least not in private, much in the same way she only ever used your last name and never your first. It was new, bizarre, and foreign, because she knew, just like you knew, that the tiny chasm that Sayaka herself had made was starting to fissure into something bigger, something that wouldn’t just close on its own.

“Right. What was I thinking?” The sorcerer rubbed her face and exhaled a long breath. With a second glance at you, she got to her feet, shrugging off the vulnerability she had shown and replacing it with the Sayaka you knew. “I’ll leave you to unpack. Dinner is at five; you can join Gojou, Itadori-san and I if you’d like.”

With that offer lingering in the air, she stepped outside your room and shut the door behind her with a quiet ‘snick’ of the lock. It wasn’t locked, but the idea was there—after all, there were no tumblers on the inside of the knob.

“Indecisive.” Ama-no-Kagaseo manifested before you in a bright spurt of black flames, stars writhing inside each individual lick of heat. You reached up to allow him to hover over your palms to which he did so gladly, the fire oddly cold against your skin in comparison to the heat in the air around him. “She knows not what she wants.”

You huffed a breath. “I know. It’s her choice to make, though.”

“Mm.” A brief flash of fire and he was reaching for his human vessel against your chest. He lingered close to it for a moment, but you could feel his thoughts churning in the connection you shared, ponderous and curious. “Interesting.”

“What is?” You inquired, watching as he allowed his human body’s eyes to slide open for the first time in decades. They were completely black and enveloped with stars, much like you had been told how you appeared, and a single blue dot appeared beneath his eye.

“Nothing. For now.” The eyes slid shut and the flame retreated back into your open palms. “Hungry?”

Your stomach was rumbling, but a glance at the clock on your new desk revealed it was just four-thirty. You wondered if you could get away with eating early and retreating to your room again without ever having to run into Gojou or Itadori, although that was highly unlikely. Avoiding anyone here was as impossible as the moon rising before the sun.

“It’s a bit early,” you said instead, leaning against the windowsill and tucking your knees to your chest. You rested your hands on your knees, watching Ama-no-Kagaseo flicker curiously at your denial for food. “It’s okay, I’m not that hungry.”

A quick rush of flames indicated he didn’t believe you, but he went incorporeal afterwards, reverting back to a cool breeze that lingered in the air around you. He likely had nothing else to say or nothing on his mind that was important; he had a habit of doing such lately, though you could never pinpoint why. You supposed that it was not important for him to retain some physical manifestation while he was thinking, or that it was not his priority if he was too deeply in thought.

With a sigh, you sat back and stretched out your legs. You weren’t sure what to do now; years without freedom had put limits on your movements and hobbies. To now be handed that freedom on a silver platter, probably with later conditions, you almost wanted to go back to being stuck in that closet room all day and night. But you couldn’t do that, not when opportunity was already in your grasp.

What did people your age do? You stared outside the window at the stone path, eyebrows furrowed in thought. You were certain they didn’t have a Curse, that’s for sure, and they definitely weren’t a vessel for the world’s most evil being in creation. They also dressed differently from you—you, who looked like you had stepped out of a mystical, traditional Japanese fantasy novel—even when they were required to wear uniforms. Their sense of style and overall mood, just from meeting Itadori Yuuji, was different from yours. You wouldn’t fit in in modern society, or even the sorcerer’s carefully monitored one.

You were stuck, in a sense, in an era that you weren’t born in.

Ama-no-Kagaseo lifted a strand of your hair with an invisible hand in comfort. He was not quick to offer a solution and merely left you to ponder on all of the possibilities within your combined power. After all, they had to be your decisions to count to the council, not his. Any hint that he was persuading you in any way would force them to lock you up in a sealed room and execute you on sight.

But that was the issue, wasn’t it? There weren’t any other female descendants. You were the last remaining female Shiraishi. The men in your clan, while unrelated to you and having married in, were too old or uninterested in obeying the whims of the elders, as was their right. You had no choice in the matter. If you wouldn’t produce an heir willingly, they would make you do it by force—you had been told that they would sweep the women away to a clinic in Tokyo and create a child artificially, guaranteeing a female offspring. You weren’t, but your father was nonexistent in your life and may as well be as dead as your mother.

“Then I’ll just have to end it,” you mumbled to yourself. It was the only right conclusion. You would stop subjecting innocent girls to being vessels and you would simultaneously release Ama-no-Kagaseo in the process. But to do that, you would need help and information from Ryoumen Sukuna. He was, after all, the one who developed the technique to seal Ama-no-Kagaseo into a human body in the first place. He would be gone as soon as all twenty fingers were found, anyway, so there was no risk for him to be resealed again. You would just have to bide your time and wait carefully until the time was right. “What do you  think, Ama-no-Kagaseo?”

In your connection, you felt him full heartedly agree—but there was also reluctance there, hesitation.

“What is it?” You inquired softly. He surprised you by completely manifesting—a childlike version of his personal form, indicative of his tumultuous emotions because, even though he was a god, he experienced emotions on a childlike level, experiencing them for the first time—and pushing himself into your arms, uncaring of his actual physical form against your chest. “Amatsumikaboshi?”

His white hair, turning a dark blue and then black towards the ends, brushed against your arms as he further wormed his way against your side, just small enough to fit on the window seat with you. He wore a drastically oversized yukata decorated with a dragon scale design, expensive, and of the same fabric as your kimono. A golden eye, as gold as doubloons, peered at you from behind a fringe of snowy white strands, and atop his head sat two sharp horns, each as white as his hair and darkening to blue towards the points. He was not as intimidating like this, but you still held the same respect for him, and he you.

“No.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and rested a hand on his head, combing through the strands soothingly much in the way he would yours when you were tired. “‘No’, what?”

Amatsumikaboshi—not Ama-no-Kagaseo, for this was no normal representation of a false identity—fixed you with a determined stare. He was of so few words that you only understood him through his emotions, new and unexplored as they were, and he was keeping them from you for some reason, fixed on the idea that he was going to tell you himself.

“No separation.” He frowned, then, and reached for your heart, and traced it back to his. “No split.”

“Oh.” You blinked at him, then, tilting your head to further meet his eyes. His pupils were unusual slits now, some link to a dragonic form you didn’t know of. “But we will part some day, Amatsumikaboshi. I’m only human.”

He seemed angry at that fact, eyebrows furrowing at being reminded of it. He never liked being reminded of your very finite life, at risk every time you got sick or ate something that could have been laced with poison. He glared—glared at his human form—and all at once, seemed to come to a conclusion. Some invisible future began playing out in his head, all of his own creation, and whatever it was, it made a smile appear on his face. It was the first time you’d ever seen him smile out of happiness, at least in a physical body you could see. You’d felt the others against your skin or hair, but seeing it was a different thing entirely.

“Do not worry,” he said after a few moments of silence, meeting your concerned gaze once more with disturbing intensity. “I can fix it.”

“Fix it?” You echoed. You reached forward and adjusted a fold of his yukata that threatened to crease, usually out of habit of doing it to your own. He grabbed your hand and placed it back on his head instead, waiting patiently for you to resume petting him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Yet.” He rested his head against the juncture of your shoulder and chest, a hand creeping up to rest against your heart and feel the gentle beat against his fingers. “For now.”

Blinking, you were about to question him further when your stomach interrupted you. A loud growl tore through the momentary silence and Amatsumikaboshi snickered, sitting upright, all questions and thoughts forgotten—or at least ignored.

“Eat,” he said, a hint of a smile still on his face, and leaning forward, brushed a kiss against your cheek. And then he was gone in a rush of blue, black, and white sparks, as incorporeal as he was before.

You sat on the windowsill, a blush creeping up your neck, and touched the tingling skin on your cheek in slight shock. You knew he was watching you, amusement rushing through your connection, and something else—so fast you couldn’t even guess as to what it was—and probably laughing to himself.

Embarrassed, you got to your feet and slipped on your shoes, heading down the hall towards the room where Sayaka had invited you to eat with her, Gojou, and Itadori Yuuji. Hopefully they didn’t mind you being a little late.

Before you could even turn a corner, a man was staring at you—dressed entirely in black and wielding a dagger in his right hand.

“Who are you?” You demanded. He didn’t answer.

Instead, your vision went white, and before you knew it, you were back inside your consciousness, inside Ama-no-Kagaseo’s domain, except you were keenly aware of your physical body hitting the floor and Ama-no-Kagaseo’s true form standing right beside you.

“Ama-no-Kagaseo,” you whispered, shock weaving into your voice as he carefully enveloped you into his arms, much like you had earlier. He was two heads taller than you in this personal representation of himself, warm, and lean. “What happened? Why am I here?”

He hummed against your head thoughtfully, dark and insidious. “Someone is trying to break my connection to you.”

“What?” You pulled back to stare him in the face, watching those golden eyes flicker over your face as if memorizing a dream. “What do you mean ‘break’ it?”

“Don’t worry.” Ama-no-Kagaseo smiled indulgently and pulled you closer again, your ear pressed against his chest—and to your shock, the steady beat of a heart sounding against your ear. “No power in this universe will ever separate us.”

And for once, you didn’t really believe him. 

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[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Part 12

Okay, warning on this one. It gets steamy at the end so 18+. Also, if anyone has read ACOSF and has a book hangover like me (and can’t get over the steaminess) lmk

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

You and Steve sat shoulder to shoulder in his hospital bed. Both of you had your arms crossed as you stared down the doctor in front of you. Doctor Beeton, who’d you never wanted to see again. Not because he was a bad doctor, but because Bucky couldn’t remember the last eighteen months.

The last five days had been tough. Bucky had gone through countless tests and it became clear his memory went blank the week before the three of you had slept together for the first time. Steve was doing a lot better, he’d even started walking around and was being discharged today. But you hadn’t seen Bucky since he woke up.

Doctor Beeton sat on a black stool, explaining, “All tests indicate that this should be acute. Bucky’s had a lot of head trauma, so we can’t predict how or if it will come back.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head against the back of the bed. Bucky had enough memory problems without this. You often had to repeat the same thing over and over to him already. You remembered once, months ago, telling him four times you were going to see a movie with a friend. Steve had been on a mission. He’d called you in a panic when you weren’t at home.

You sign, leveling Doctor Beeton with a stare, “We’re about to have two babies. Twins. Is there anything you can do?”

Steve squeezed your thigh.

The doctor shook his head. “This is going to have to come back on its own. We’ve talked about this before,” he looked to Steve.

Who nodded solemnly, and explained to you, “We had tests run a while ago. Buck’s memory just isn’t the best because of all the wiping and head trauma in the past. It’s not getting worse, or it wasn’t, but he’s got all these blank spots. Like, the first three months after the blip or everything that happened when he was fifteen. And you’ve seen how he can be with some details.”

You nodded, sighing again. “Okay, so what do we do?”

“You go home, Bucky can be discharged today too,” the doctor explained. “Get back to a normal routine. It’ll help jog his memory.”

You and Steve exchanged a look, what the fuck was a normal routine?

———

“So, we lived here?” Bucky looked at Steve for confirmation. You hadn’t broke the news yet that you were a throuple, Buck thought he and Steve had gotten a place together off the compound. And you were just tagging along to make sure they were okay. Because you were just the Avengers secretary.

The place didn’t exactly look like two men lived here though. It had been yours before they had moved in. Bucky surveyed the entrance with a big round, gold accent mirror. And the pictures on the wall of your college girlfriends, your childhood pets, and the three of you.

You stood behind him as he entered the apartment, peering into the living room. With your vintage green velvet couches, marble tables with gold accents, vases full of plants and flowers. He peeked at the book shelf, every book on historical fiction, romance fantasy, or social theory. All yours. Neither of their tastes remotely.

He surveyed the small table you had, big enough for four. You scratched your head, would it fit two small children soon? It was dark wood with a bench pressed against one wall and two chairs on the other side. It had been the only way to fit it into the space. The walls were a coral sea pink accent wall and gold hanging lights. He walked into the kitchen, looking specifically at the pink flowers you had on the breakfast bar. “We didn’t actually live here, did we?” He asked Steve.

“You did,” you answer. You motion for him to walk to the table. He follows from the kitchen, awkwardly taking one of the chairs as you slide into the bench sighing with relief. Your legs felt ready to give out by this point. “You lived here with me.”

Steve slid into the bench beside you, taking your hand.

Bucky’s eyes fixated on your hands. You remembered that in his mind, it was eighteen months ago. And eighteen months ago, he and Steve had a pact not to sleep or date you because they both wanted you.

“So you two are a couple then?” Bucky asked coolly. “And I just slept in the spare room.”

“Not...exactly,” Steve looked to you for help.

“Buck,” you said, “just hear me out. A lot has changed...a week after what you remember, the Avengers had their annual fundraiser event.”

Bucky nodded, “I remember getting a suit for that.”

You nodded, you had booked this fitting. It had been two days before Bucky stopped remembering. “At the party, I got a little drunk and I asked the two of you to sleep with me. You had been drinking that strong stuff that Thor brings and we’re also pretty drunk. And you did.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, “We had a threesome?”

Steve nodded.

Bucky’s face blanched. You remember that he was going through the same emotions as last time, realizing he had sex with his best friend in the world, and who he’d had a crush on since they were kids.

Bucky looked at Steve and asked, “And you were okay with this?”

Steve’s face twisted, “No, I wasn’t for a long time actually.”

You scratched the side of your head, “Steve struggles with being a little...closeted. He’s really not out to most people. But the three of us started hanging out and having sex with each other, regularly. And then you two moved in here. And I got pregnant. And here we are...” You trailed off. That was over simplifying it a bit.

Bucky’s eyebrows were touching his hairline. “What?” He breathed.

“The thee of us are a throuple, a relationship with three people,” Steve clarified. “Or as y/n called it, a super secret super solider threesome. Because no one knew about us.”

Bucky surveyed the two if you, leaning back in his chair uncertainly. “And now?”

You wrinkled your nose, “Everyone thinks I was sleeping with both of you separately. Because you two got into a big fight when I got pregnant. So everyone assumed it was over who the father is.”

Bucky’s eyes dropped to your belly, which was very obvious in your empire waisted, pink maxi dress. “Who is the father?”

You run your hand up and down your bump protectively, “We don’t know. You and I decided it wasn’t important.”

A terrible thought ran through your head, what if Bucky didn’t want the babies now?

He cocked his head to the side. “So what was the fight about?”

Steve cleared his throat, looking sheepishly down at his hands. “I walked out when y/n told us, and we got into a brawl. And then I asked her to get an abortion. And then I heard the heartbeats and I wanted her to leave you to be with me and have the babies. And then she told me it wasn’t going to happen. And then you and I got into a fight because I asked you to be with me. Without her.”

Your head snapped to the side, well you didn’t know about that. There would definitely be a conversation about that later. Bucky just raised an eyebrow.

“But,” Steve continued. “I’m back and I want to be part of this family. With both of you and our children.”

“Children?”

———

Bucky seemed to be taking the news rather well, in a way of not talking to either of you for the last four hours and staring at a wall way. But he hadn’t walked out yet.

He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, contemplating for most of the rest of the day. Occasionally, he looked over at asked a clarifying question. One of you would answer and he’d go back to his silent thought.

Neither you or Steve said a word to each other in fear of disturbing Bucky.

It was late when you heaved yourself to your feet, placing a hand under your bump, you finally addressed Bucky. “I’m going to get ready for bed. I just want to know where you’d like to sleep tonight.”

He finally blinked, looking up at you. No, not at you, but at your belly, “huh?”

“Do you want to sleep with us or there’s a pullout couch in the spareroom. It’s a nursery now, but...”

He swallowed hard, looking to where Steve was minding his own business, pretending to read a book. “Can I sleep on the pullout couch, please?”

You would under normal circumstances squeeze his shoulder at his uncertainty, but you remembered how much Bucky hated little affectionate gestures in your early relationship. “Of course, baby,” you said instead. He looked at yor quizzically and you realized you shouldn’t have used the pet name. Clearing your throat, you said, “Let me get that ready for you.”

“You shouldn’t—“ Bucky started, staring at your belly.

Steve stood, “I’ll help. It’s okay, relax.”

You rolled your eyes, “I can unfold a damn pullout couch.” Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise, it was probably the first time he’d ever heard you swear. You took a lelvelling breath before saying, “Steve, I’ll find the sheets and you get the couch, okay?”

He nodded in agreement.

You went to the hall closet, pausing to let Steve pass you in the narrow space. Closing your eyes, you could see it five years from now. Trying to walk down this hallway with a laundry basket while two five year olds being chased by Steve and Bucky with nerf guns barrelled the other way. Oh no, this place was definitely not going to be big enough for the five of you soon enough.

You entered your former office, now nursery. Bucky had painted the walls a gentle green. No furniture was in here yet, except your couch from when you were in college (soon to be tossed to the curb), the rocking chair you’d ordered last week, and a couple of unopened boxes of baby furniture.

“Sit,” Steve instructed, nodding towards the rocking chair.

You did as he asked, stroking your belly as you commented, “Just a friendly reminder you’re not supposed to be doing anything too strenuous either. You were just impaled.”

He rolled his eyes, pushing a box to the corner of the room. “I would hardly call moving these boxes strenuous.”

You rocked back and forth slowly, “So you asked Bucky to leave me?”

Steve paused, he propped his arm on a tall box and looked at you, “While we were on mission, and he gave me hell for it. I also decided I was done being scared and I would be there for both of you. And them.” He nodded at your belly.

You could easily start a fight about this. Instead, you nodded and said, “I think we need to move.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “When we suggested moving in together, didn’t you say this place was a once and a lifetime investment? That it would pay for itself one day and you loved it too much to sell.”

You pursed your lips, this apartment was your first love. You bought. You fixed it up and decorated it. You’d literally sought exclusively jobs in this area to avoid ever having to move again. You had once thought this place was enough for you, and now it was feeling a little cramped.

The corners of Steve’s mouth twitched upwards. “You’re nesting. If we’re gonna move soon, let’s at least do it while the baby stuff is still in boxes, yes?”

You rolled your eyes, “Pull out the damn couch, Rogers.”

———

The following morning you sat at the breakfast bar, a beagle in hand, munching away happily.

“Okay, so we’re supposed to get back into some kind of routine,” Steve stood on the other side, leaning against your kitchen counter. “So, we typically started each day by going on a run.”

You looked over to Bucky, who quirked an eyebrow.

“You’re not running,” you clarified, knowing his unasked question. “You’re still under concussion protocol. So, you an I are going for a walk.”

Bucky straightened at that, “It’s really okay, I can just—”

“Not an option, soldier,” you stood. He gazed at you in your leggings, a tight compression shirt that made you look very pregnant, and a high pony. You’d have liked to go on a run too, albeit much shorter and slower. “This is our time to chat and you can ask me a million questions. And I can tell you embarrassing stories about Steve that you missed out on.”

“Hey!” Steve raised his hands in defence.

“You,” you pointed at him, “are also under orders to take it easy.”

“Yeah, hold on.” Bucky said, “Why aren’t you walking with us.”

Steve shrugged, “I’m a super solder who was stabbed in the gut, I heal fast. Your brain doesn’t. We don’t know how many concussions you’ve had, we’re not messing with concussions.”

The golden rule: don’t mess with concussions.

“Steve’s gonna run with Sam,” you interjected. Steve raised an eyebrow. “He’s outside. You’re to follow his pace for today.”

Steve rolled his eyes, pushing off the counter. It would inevitably be a very slow run for him, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Alright, soldier,” you nudge his foot with yours. The closest you’d be getting to an affectionate gesture anytime soon you realized with a slight heart ache. “You’re not getting any younger.”

He laughed, standing to grab his shoes. “So, what’s next in the routine after a walk?”

Bucky, ever the gentleman, opened the door for you and let you walk down the stairs first. You knew he was keeping a close eye on you, even as you gripped the railing.

“We make breakfast,” you started, thinking of the list you and Steve had made last night. “Then we go to work. We used to take separate cars, when we were keeping this a secret, but now I guess we’ll drive in together? I mean, as long as you’re comfortable with that.”

Bucky blinked in surprise.

You opened to door to your building, the crisp morning greeting you. You started on your usual walk, trying to take on a brisk pace.

“I mean, doesn’t everyone already know?” Bucky asked.

You nodded, “Pretty much everyone. You and I have been acting like a couple ever since we found out about the babies.”

Bucky swallowed hard. You realized he hadn’t said a word about the babies yet.

“How are you feeling about everything?” You asked, trying to subtly steer the conversation in a direction where you could ask how he felt about the babies.

He shrugged. “I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve woken up without a memory. I’ll adjust, untangle everything as we go.”

You nodded, “A lot has changed this time though...”

He glanced at you, and you made a pointed gesture at your belly.

Bucky ran his hands through his hair. “Okay, eighteen months ago I couldn’t image this. Eighteen months ago you were the hot secretary. In our last conversation, you told me you were craving an afternoon delight and were referring to coffee. But I still obsessed about it for the next two days, wondering if it was an invitation.”

You smirked, “It was.”

“The point is,” he took a deep breath, “we were all different people the. I would have done anything to sleep with you, let alone go on a date with you. Stev was the guy I’d loved forever and I was content to be his friend. I’ve always wanted to be a dad, but...I never thought it’d happen to me, and I was okay with that.”

You really wanted to take his hand, instead focusing on fiddling with your fingers to ease the ache of needing to feel him.

“What I’m hearing,” you said, “is that you’ve got everything you’ve ever wanted, and you don’t know how to handle it.”

He shot you an exasperated look, “I thought we were going to be talking about fun facts about our relationship.”

You took that as him wanting to change the conversation and launched into a story about Steve getting the three of you lost hiking.

When you got back to the apartment, you were a little more winded than you would have liked to admit and the stairs hadn’t helped. Your back ached and you desperately wanted to go lie down.

“Can I get you something?” Bucky asked.

“Water?” You asked, sliding into a seat.

You watched Bucky reach for a cup in a cupboard, without having to tell him which. He even grabbed your favourite cup. Everything would be okay.

———

The three of you settled into a new routine. You and Bucky went for walks together until he was cleared to run, first with Sam then with Steve.

You went to work for nine. They both walked you to your office and would come have lunch with you. At five, you’d leave together.

You’d come home, each of you taking turns to cook dinner. You’d typically end the night watching a show and be in bed early. Bucky would sleep in the spare room and you’d sleep with Steve.

Every other week you had an ultrasound and Bucky had an assessment.

You and Bucky had a secret habit though. Most night you woke up with the babies kicking wildly. You’d get up to avoid waking Steve and go sit and read in the living room. Bucky was typically waiting for you, up with a nightmare or just not able to sleep.

Most of the time you’d sit in silence. Sometimes Bucky would read off some headline from this phone or you’d recount something someone had said on your day.

There had been no change in Bucky’s memories but he seemed to be getting more comfortable with you and Steve. Life went on. There was nothing you could do about it, so you just went on.

Until Wednesday. A random Wednesday that you would remember for the rest of your life.

It didn’t start out so special. Your alarm went off and your cursed at Steve for setting it in the first place. Sleep was hard to come by and you were twenty six weeks pregnant and hating it already.

“You were the one who wanted a morning walk,” Steve rolled over, tracing your belly. He kissed his way up your neck and you swatted him away, feeling remarkably unsexy.

“Fuck off, you have to run,” you rolled over and placed your feet on the ground. Your back already ached and your head was throbbing. Today was not going to be a good day, you decided internally. You rolled your neck and got up to face the day.

Bucky was sitting in the kitchen when you got up. “Morning,” he grumbled over a cup of coffee.

You nodded in agreement, you’d both been up from two till three doing buzzfeed quizzes. According to buzzfeed, you should be dyeing your hair green. You were not considering it.

You poured yourself a cup of coffee and waddled to sit beside Bucky at the breakfast bar. Your back squeezed painfully as you sat and Bucky noticed.

He reached out a hand to steady you and help lower you to the chair. “You okay?”

You shrugged, “Pregnancy. My back just really hurts.” You propped your head on your hand and wiggled your eyebrows as you said flatly, “I booked myself a pregnancy massage for tomorrow though.”

Bucky propped his head on his head, mirror you as he said equally as flatly, “Wow.”

“Alright!” Steve clapped his hands together, booming as he came in the room. “Let’s get moving!”

You looked at Bucky, “I’m gonna castrate him.”

“Why!?” Steve asked.

You peered around Bucky and said, “Fifty percent less chance of pregnancy. That’s how I see. It’s almost effective strategy for birth control.”

Bucky frowned, “Thats really not how statistics works. If you have two fully fertile men hat you’re sleeping with at the same time, that wouldn’t decrease your odds by fifty percent. It would maybe be like twenty five or ten...”

You smirked, “So I’m sleeping with both of you now?”

Bucky blushed a deep shade of red.

You stood, leaning over to kiss his cheek as you went. He froze under your touch and you retracted it like you’d been burned, wholly unaware of the subconscious gesture. “Buck—” you started.

He cleared his throat, not making eye contact as he looked at Steve. “Let’s go.”

You spun to look at Steve, who eyed you with wide eyed uncertainty.

———

You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky not talking to you, even as you sat in a meeting with your two maternity replacements. Jenna and Alicia. You hated them both. Two bland, corporate machines. You picked them because you figured they would follow instructions and wouldn’t care enough to actually get good at your job and start trying to make changes. Besides, there was too much to teach and too little time. You would give them each select tasks and they could figure out the rest.

“The one thing upon need to remember is that every call goes through five different people before it gets to you,” you shifted in easily. Your back was really aching. “Don’t waste your time with stupid questions. Get to the point, who are they. Who do they want to talk to and why. You each have a cheat sheet with how to direct calls and who is willing to talk to who?”

They peered down at the lengthy binder you’d made for them. You were beginning to think it wasn’t enough.

“Take five, ladies,” Tony called, entering your office.

They scurried off, afraid to even look at Tony. Yeah, this was going to go over really well.

You stood on uneasy legs as you came around to give Tony a hug, “Thank god you’re here. They bore me to tears.” Tony wrapped an arm around you and your back seized. You flinched, hard.

Tony pulled back, putting his hands on your shoulders, “Are you okay?”

You were nearly in tears but you nodded, “Yeah, the babies just kicked really hard.” You lied. He obviously didn’t buy it but he let you go sit in your chair. You sighed in almost instant relief.

“What can I do for you Tony?” You asked, spinning slightly as you stroked your belly.

“I came to talk about your maternity leave,” he started. You just rolled your eyes. This was becoming an old song and dance.

“I’ll work till I pop or the doc says I can’t.”

He pursed his lips, “I’m worried your going to run yourself thin and then something bad is going to happen.”

You waved him off, “Nothing is going to happen. I had an ultrasound last week. Everything looked great.”

Tony shook his head, “I have a really bad feeling. I can’t explain it. But I do.”

You touched your chest, “You’re worried about me.”

“It’s not funny.”

“No you care, it’s sweet. It’s misplaced but it’s sweet. I’m totally fine. You can put that worrying into finding me a house though.”

Tony rolled his eyes this time, “I knew this was coming. That cramped little space is not going to work soon.”

———

Steve and Bucky came to get you at five. Bucky didn’t meet your eye as you left.

He sat in the back seat of the car on your way home and he went and sat in his room as soon as you got home.

“Did I fucking break him?” You whispered at Steve as soon as the two of you got into the kitchen.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “No, he’s just...you threw him for a loop.”

You leaned against the counter, fisting your hands through your hair. “I can’t live like this, Steve. I can’t just not touch him. I can’t just ignore how he flinches every time I get close.”

Steve held out a hand, “Take a deep breath. If this was two years ago, he’d have gotten on a motorcycle and have been out of state in an hour. If this was the start of our relationship, he’d have reacted the same way. We dealt with it then, we’re dealing with it now. You have to let him come to you.”

You closed your eyes, leaning against the cabinet. He had to come to you. For everything, especially touching.

The rest of the night was spent in silence. Bucky didn’t even come out for dinner. You and Steve went to bed early.

You woke up a 1:58am. Steve was snoring beside you and the babies were doing gymnastics inside of you.

Your heart twisted, you wondered if Bucky would be sitting in the living room waiting for you. Probably not.

You stood up, your back twisting painfully. You couldn’t freaking wait for that massage.

You made it down the hall and saw a soft light on in the living room. Bucky was sitting there, on his phone. He didn’t even look up as you padded up behind him. He just said, “Have you seen the video of the raccoon with the cotton candy?”

You let out a laugh of surprise. “Yeah, I have. But let me see it again.”

Bucky was sitting in the green armchair. You came to sit in the corner of the couch, as close to him as you could get to peer over at the video.

Bucky let out a chuckle as the raccoon dipped the cotton candy in the water. You smiled warmly over at him.

“Have you the video where they give him a second piece,” you ask gently.

The look on Bucky’s face was too pure. Too excited. You ran your phone and immediately search for it.

Half an hour later, your sitting with a book in your lap and Bucky is scrolling through his phone. You shift uncomfortably and Bucky asks, “The babies?”

You quirked your eyebrow at the question.

Bucky didn’t talk about the babies. He went to the ultrasounds and sat quietly in the corner. When you complained about the kicking at night, he quickly changed the subject. When you talked about baby stuff with Steve, he left the room. It was almost as if your belly wasn’t getting bigger everyday.

“Yeah,” you shifted uncomfortably. “They’re really going at it tonight. And my back aches.”

Bucky smiled quietly at you, you were almost looking back down at your book when he asked, “Can I feel?”

You looked up in surprise. Especially after this morning, this was the last question you expected to hear.

“Yeah, of course,” you put your book down. “Will you give me your hand?”

Bucky gently reached out towards you, you took his hand, watching his face carefully before placing it where the babies were most active.

He jumped in surprise, “You weren’t joking. Wow.” But his hand stayed firmly on your belly as the babies continued to kick wildly.

You observed his face, his eyes were so full of wonder. Like they were when you told him you were pregnant. He even had a small smile on his face as he traced your belly, looking to feel more of the babies.

“Bucky, about this morning, I’m really sorry...”

His eyes snapped to yours, suddenly aware that your faces were only inches apart.

He quirked his head to the side, “No, no. I have something I wanted to say to you actually. I didn’t even go to bed, I just waited until you went to bed to come sit out here in case I missed you.”

His hand continued to stroke you belly as he went on, “I realized something today, after you touched my shoulder. I was surprised, but also, it didn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. I feel like I haven’t been fair to you, and I definitely overreached today, but mostly I wanted you to know, I really liked it when you touched me.”

Oh. Your eyes widened slightly at the admission.

“And,” he went on, “I got thinking about how this must feel for you and Steve. Like a long distance relationship where the other person is right in front of you. I don’t remember everything, but I know I loved you guys. I want to try. Everything, all of it. You and him and the babies. I want it.”

A tear made its way down your cheek, you weren’t even aware you were crying. “I want to kiss you so bad,” you admit. “Actually, I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”

He boyish smirk took over his face and he leaned forward to brush his lips against yours. You kept your hands at your side, even as he deeper the kiss, leaning you back slightly in your seat. This was his kiss, it would go how he wanted it to go. He broke the kiss to stand in front of you.

“Get up,” his voice had dropped an octave as he looked down at you with hooded eyes. You did as you were told, not sure where this was going.

He took your hand, you thought he was leading you to his room before he suddenly pushed you against the wall. Your gasp was interrupted by his mouth pressing hard down on yours. You pressed your hands hard into the wall as he kept kissing you. As his tongue entered your mouth, exploring ravenously.

The kiss broke suddenly for him to drag his lips down your skin to your neck. You let out a loud moan as his tongue traces up your neck towards your ear. “Oh my god,” you gasp, it had been a while and heat was pooling between your legs. You wanted him now and you wanted him fast.

“Touch me,” he growled in your ear.

You didn’t need to be told twice as you dragged a hand up his spine. He shivered. You wrapped your hands in his hair and he let out an audible moan.

His lips were back on your neck, sucking a mark. Your hips bucked under him and he tried to get closer to roll his hips against yours.

He couldn’t get close enough with your belly. And you needed more.

Suddenly your shirt was gone, leaving your top half completely exposed. His hands roamed your swollen breasts.

You gasped at the feeling, raking a hand down his back.

He tweaked a nipple, “Is this what you like, baby?”

You could only nod as his mouth took one of your nipples.

He tweaked the other one and your knees started to feel like jelly. “I didn’t hear you baby, do you like it when I play with your nipples?” He tweaked them both for emphasis.

“Y-yes,” you managed.

He pressed open mouth kisses up your neck back to your ear. His tongue flicked the inside of your ear and you almost came undone.

“Do you know what else I realized, baby?” His hands still cupped your breasts. You attempted to grind against his to get some friction but he was being patient. Agonizingly patient.

“What?” You finally gasped.

He licked that spot again, and said with his lips brushing your ear, “I really like it when you call me soldier. Especially when you’re bossing me around.”

He bit on your ear lobe and you couldn’t help but moan.

“Alright, soldier,” you pushed him away to tug at his shirt. “Stop teasing and get to work.”

His eyes gleamed.

He pulled back to take his shirt off and you pulled off your sleeping shorts, now fully naked in front of him. He looked down at you, a devilish smile on his face.

He started with your shoulder, pressing open mouth kisses down to your left breast. He took it in his mouth, expertly sucking. You pressed your hands against the wall to steady yourself.

He continued down your body, kissing down your belly. His hands rested on your hips as he fully lowered himself to the ground. You expected more teasing. Some tendernous.

Not for him to lift a leg over his shoulder. Definitely not for him to latch on to your clit, doing that little trick that he did. You almost screamed.

Heat was building fast. His hands cupped your ass. You needed more. You might have said it outloud.

A finger entered you and you jolted, grinding against his face. It curled inside of you and you swore. “Bucky, I—”

He didn’t stop. He added a second finger and attacked you with his mouth with even more ferocity. He was starving and this was his first meal.

And he was going to devour you.

You wrapped one hand through his hair, gasping for air. You were close. He just had to keep going with his fingers hitting that spot. Yes, just like that.

Bucky broke away, his eyes dark as he looked up at you. “Let’s go wake Steve up.”

You were so fucking close. Oh my god. But he didn’t give you an option, gripping your hand and dragging you down the hall.

He opened the bedroom, leading you in. Steve was still out cold, but Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you down beside him. He started taking his pants off and you started slapping Steve’s shoulder.

“Huh?” Steve opened an eye. He saw you naked and seemed to perk up a bit. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Bucky’s deep voice surprised him. “You wanna play?”

Steve was up in an instant, “I’ll get the lube.”

You smirked up at Bucky, who was stroking himself as he stared you down.

“Get on the bed, soldier,” you demanded.

He didn’t need to be asked twice, he crawled on top of you. He dragged a his lip up between your breasts until he was kissing you fevourously again. You expertly wrapped your legs around him and flipped him over so you were on top.

You took hold of him, stroking him hard, how you knew he liked it. His head rolled back as he moaned. You guided him to your entrance and sank down on him fully. He gasped, reaching for your hips.

You groaned, grinding down on him, “If you think this feels good, just wait till Steve joins in, soldier.” As you said it, Steve’s hands roamed up your body, coming to cup your breasts.

He breathed in your ear, “You ready for me, baby?”

You nodded, leaning forward to grasp Bucky’s shoulder as Steve lined himself up with your entrance. Suddenly they were both thrusting into you. Bucky could barely breathe, grasping the sheets from the insane pleasure.

You, were already close. You could barely move, except to enjoy the feeling of both of them inside of you. Finally.

You were ready to explode. Your hands grasped Bucky’s shoulders as he thrust into you at an erratic pace.

Steve leaned forward to cup your breasts and whispered, “Cum baby.”

You screamed as you felt your walls release. You saw black for a moment and as your started to come down, Bucky came inside of you. He leaned back, panting heavily but Steve wasn’t done. He kept pounding into you. You came again before he finished.

You finally felt Steve pulled out and you rolled beside Bucky. “Oh my god.”

Bucky gaped, “I was missing out on that.”

Steve plopped down beside you and burst out laughing. You started laughing too. And soon enough so was Bucky. It was contagious. You couldn’t help out. Soon you were gasping for air but every time you nearly stopped, it started again.

The laughter died down after a while. You started to yawn and Bucky timidly asked if he could stay the night. You told him of course, got up to pee, and laid down between them.

Finally, your family was starting to feel complete. Bucky wasn’t back to being himself, but things were staring to look up.

You dozed off but just as quickly Bucky was shaking you awake. You blinked thought your exhaustion. Steve was no where in sight.

“What?” You rasped.

Bucky wouldn’t meet your eye as he said, “We have to go. Steve’s getting the car.”

“What?”

“Everything is going to be okay, y/n,” his voice broke. He started to lead you out of bed. You gasped, your belly contracting painfully. “You’re bleeding. We’re gonna go get you check out.”

You could barely breathe. Not as he gently dressed you. Not with each time your belly contracted painfully again. Not as you looked back and your pristinely white sheets to see them smeared with bright red blood.

Tags (open) @booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

#bucky barnes #steve x pregnant!reader #bucky x steve x reader #steve x reader #stucky x pregnant!reader #stucky x reader #bucky x pregnant!reader #bucky x reader

[sunnysviolin]

Choices (Rewrite)

Hey guys! I decided to do a rewrite of Choices because I felt like I could expand on it a bit more. You can also read it on ao3 here but because this fic was originally just on here, I thought I would also post it on here

Her son was still asleep.

The house was bright with the afternoon light, sun spilling in from all of the windows. It was one of the things she loved most about her home, how much light it was able to bring in. From the big wide windows in the piano room, to the tiny one overlooking the staircase. Even though it was small it filled the room with brightness. Even the sliding glass doors brought in the sunshine, although she almost never opened the curtains anymore. The light touched everything in the house, the empty stairwell, the miscolored walls, the dozens and dozens of cardboard boxes stacked precariously on top of one another.

Sometimes the memories floated up from where she had tampered them down, catching on a thought floating in her head and coming up to the surface. The light in the house made her think of the windows, and the windows made her think of the piano, the one piece of furniture she was leaving behind, and the piano made her think of the day they bought the house.

She had been pregnant by then, just beginning to show. They had told their respective parents earlier that month on the first trimester mark, and all four had been pleased. It felt good to earn Takashi’s parents approval, it may have only come from the child growing in her, but she was happy to have it. Anything would beat the icy stares and cold judgement that they had when he first brought her home for dinner.

The day they bought the house was also the day they found out they were having a girl. Cold gel on her belly and a monitor pressing against her, and there was a picture of their daughter. She still looked more like an alien than a baby, but she had little fingers and little toes, and her doctor said that the baby was a girl. She couldn’t have been more excited.

She had been hesitant about buying the house at first, scared of the possibilities. Could they afford the house with everything the baby might need? Was the house too big, was it safe enough for their child? Takashi had assured her that everything would be fine, but the doubts were still egging at her, even on this final day that they could possibly turn back. It was the piano that changed her mind. The piano, and her daughter.

As she stood in the doorway of the room that had the piano, she rested a hand on her stomach. Her mind was still reeling from the knowledge that there was in fact a little person in her, a little person that would grow into a little girl for her to love and cherish and raise.

She had never learned to play the piano, but this little girl would. She would sit at the piano with long black hair, straight like her fathers instead of wavy like her own. This little girl would have her eyes, and a perfect smile. She would grow up in this house, and her parents would be with her for every step of the way.

Takashi had come up behind her and she had turned herself into his arms, declaring there and then that this was their home now. They signed the papers only an hour later in their realtors office, and she had been in her final month of pregnancy when they finally had moved in. There had been some water damage, and Takashi hadn’t wanted to risk mold around her and the baby. She had been a whale by the time they finally got into the house, waddling around unpacking cardboard boxes so very similar to the ones adorning the house now.

It had felt right then, like the real beginning to her life. Everything had made sense. Now the brightness of the house was overwhelming, the sun hitting her eyes and leaving black blurs in her vision. She kept most of the curtains shut, and there was no one there who would open them back up for her.

Still, the light kept creeping in.

Stop thinking about that. Get back to what you have to do.

I left some food in the fridge for you downstairs. It's STEAK... your favorite! Love you, XOXO.

She circled that final O and peeled the sticky note off of the pack, placing it on the wall by the doorway next to the rest of her little messages to her son. Sunny did better when he had reminders of things, and the bright neon of the stickies tended to catch his eye long enough to engage his curiosity. She patted the note twice to ensure it was stuck on firmly, and then she started her mental checklist again.

Pack up the last of our things. Check.

Call the landlord to start setting up the apartment. Check.

Make sure the moving men knew to leave the piano. Check.

Leave Sunny a list of chores. Check.

Make sure Sunny has what he needs and knows how to get it. Check.

Everything was laid out exactly as it should be. Everything was taken care of. So why did she have a foreboding feeling? Why did she not want to leave? She had wanted to leave this house for the last four years, she had craved escaping the grief and pain that tainted the walls. Now she was finally at the precipice of getting exactly what she wanted, and fear was holding her in place.

On a whim she called out that she was leaving to the empty dead house. Sunny did not wake. Sunny’s door did not open. She hadn’t expected it to, but she hoped it would. He might have come downstairs and give her a hug goodbye, he might have given her some sign that he was aware she even existed at all.

Except he wouldn’t, and it was better to pretend that it was just because of the house. Once she got him out of this house it would all be okay again, and to get him out of the house, she needed to leave and set up their new home.

With that thought at the forefront of her mind, she picked up her handbag and walked to the door. It was heavy when it opened, it had always been heavy, but now it was a struggle to even get the knob to turn. But turn it did, and soon she was standing in her yard, the front door closing behind her with an ominous click. That sound always sent a shiver racing down her spine. It was the same noise as when the men closed Mari’s casket. A simple quiet snick, efficient in its brutality.

That’s the sound that happened when they finally took my baby away. That’s the sound that happened when they shut the world forever on her beautiful face. She never shut any of the doors in the house anymore in an effort to avoid that sound.

She hurried to the car and slammed the door shut, the vibration of it rolling up her arm and cancelling out the noise of the casket door closing. A shaky breath flew out of her mouth and she gripped the steering wheel, letting her head fall against it.

It’s all fine. Everything is fine. You’re overreacting to a little noise. It’s just an overreaction.

She grabbed her purse and began to dig through it, the jingly sound of her keys coming from its depths. Once she found them she jammed the key into the ignition, about to turn it when it happened again. A crackly voice in her head, speaking in slow gravely Japanese. The voice of her Baasan stuck in her mind, stalling her hand from turning the key.

You shouldn’t leave him alone.

It was a ridiculous thought. She had left Sunny home alone plenty of times. It wasn’t anything new or out of the ordinary. Sunny probably wouldn’t even get up, except to use the bathroom and eat. She would be back in three days, and then they would be able to move on with their lives. There was nothing to worry about. She turned the key, and Baasan spoke up again.

Three days? You told yourself one, then two at most. Now Three? What on earth could you possibly need to do that would keep you away from your son for three days. He’s fragile now, you know.

Plenty of things Baa-Baa She rationalized. She had to lay out the furniture, call an inspector, get food for the fridge, and make sure everything would be just the way it should be for Sunny’s arrival. There was lots to do, and she needed all of that time. It wasn’t like she had left Sunny in a ditch without shelter or care. He was in his home, the only home he had ever known, with food to eat and a warm bed.

Ah yes, a single steak. Certainly enough for three days. He’s going to starve while you are gone. Why do you want to starve your son?

She wasn’t starving him. She...she wasn’t. Sunny barely ate anymore anyway. Uncertainty wound itself around her shoulders. She had left him a steak in the fridge, and the microwave was right by it to warm it up. She had even sharpened the knife for him.

Leaving your only son with a sharp knife alone in the house. What a choice .

She shook her head, unable to shake the thoughts from her head. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she threw her body around, pulling out of the driveway and speeding down the road. Her Baasan’s voice screamed in her head

Turn Back. Turn Back, damn you. Go back, he needs you. You left out a knife, a knife you sharpened. You didn’t sharpen any of the others. Why did you leave that knife out? Do you want him to hurt himself?

“No!” She shouted into the empty air, startling herself. Her hands jerked, and the car jerked too, pulling into the other lane. An oncoming vehicle blared its horn, and she overcorrected, going half off the road. The man in the other car gave her the finger as he whizzed past, and she laughed, a strangely broken sound. Why would she want to hurt Sunny? He was her baby, her little one. The last little one she had, the only family she had. All she had now was her son, and she would never let anything hurt him.

“I’m doing this for him,” She said to herself, her voice placid and sweet, “It’s all for him. Once he’s out of that house things will be better. It’ll be all better,”

Why couldn’t she believe herself? She wasn’t lying, she wanted this for Sunny.

You want it for you. You want to be rid of that place, rid of the memories and everything you lost. Whatever it takes you’re leaving that all behind and it will be like none of it ever existed. That’s for you, not him.

But Sunny wasn’t one of the things she wanted to leave behind. Sunny was coming with her. But that didn’t explain why he wasn’t here sitting in the car with her. Baasan tried speaking up one last time.

Turn Back. You can take it back before he even wakes up. Throw that knife out into the backyard. Let it rest next to where your son hung his sister.

Where your baby hung herself. He needs you. He needs his mommy.

No. No, it was fine.

Sunny didn’t need her. What Sunny needed was a fresh start. Sunny needed to get out of that house, that horrible house filled with ghosts- alive and dead. Sunny needed her to be his mother, to make decisions when he couldn’t. Sunny needed his mother to help him, and she would. She would fill this new house with new furniture and new clothes, and she would become a new person. A kinder person, a better person, someone who could forgive his mistakes. Someone who could love him. Someone who could see him without hating him.

Sunny would be fine. Sunny would sleep all day and all night like he always did. He was a caterpillar in a cocoon, and she was going to help him finish his metamorphosis. Leaving this house, his chrysalis, would help him to transform. He would emerge as her beautiful boy again, her quiet darling, her Sunny. She put on her turn signal and started up the drive once more, this time with no hesitation at all.

All he had to do was survive a few more days in the fog. He could manage that. He’d lived this long in it, hadn’t he?

#omori #omori fic #omori sunny #omori sunnys mother #omori sunnys father #shes such an interestign character #and I decided to think about it a bit more #ayways #rewrite! #Do you like the original or this one better?

[hyuneytoast]

The Edge of the Missed World || L.FL

✦Tags || Zombie apocalypse AU, Lee Felix x Reader, established lovers, angst, fluff if you really squint-

✦Warnings || Fire, weapons, injuries, blood, mention of suicide and death, explicit language

✦Word Count || 2.6k

✦Synopsis || Maybe the two of you should have never walked through that door, or perhaps left when you had the discrete chance. Either way, it’s like the world is ending, which is the case for Felix and you as night arrives. Still, Felix doesn’t see the point in wasting the uncertain left time in tears.

It burns. Literally and figuratively, physically and mentally… all of it burns like hell. The dark thick haze expands in the room, or what once was a room, and fills your eyes and lungs with a burning sensation. The strong smell of smoke lingers in your nose and the hissing of the fiery flames is all that’s audible.

You’re crawling on all fours with every bit of strength you have, making your way past wooden beams set ablaze that threaten to collapse any moment now. Your muscles ache and your skin feels like it’s melting, especially with the searing pain in your shoulder that has blood dripping from it, but that doesn’t stop you. It’s hard to catch a full breath, leaving you spiraling down into aching lungs and a dizzy mind. “Felix!” You desperately cry out, eyes frantically scanning each inch of the burning house. “Felix!” You call, voice straining at the end.

-one hour ago-

Felix and you have been treading through the tall grass field, until found upon a rather worn down house of two stories in the middle. Wood planks nailed over the windows and weeds growing like monsters all around the porch. The door was half open, the knob barely intact, giving the two of you a peek inside the house that basks in late afternoon sunlight. You two carefully approach inside the home, the wooden floor creaking at half the steps taken. Your guns are in hand, prepared for any zombies who dare to lunge out of nowhere.

The house reeks with rotting odors, items coated in dust and even dried blood stains. Furniture and other items are scattered, an escape of drama and despair made its presence quite clear. The blond male beside you takes the lead ahead, carefully peaking into each room with the gun in front of him. No sign of the living dead just yet, for now only the two of you drowning in silence. You both came in search of supplies, and survivors if any, and perhaps to even stay for the remaining day at the house. You have travelled far from your original base at dawn, so the time needed to return would last until under the moon. As to all know, wandering at night during an apocalypse is practically suicide.

“Let’s check upstairs, yeah?” Felix says low, his husky voice sending a shiver down your spine.

You give a firm nod. “There might be an overflow or leak up there, I saw water dripping from the ceiling in the kitchen.”

It’s like each step creaks louder the further you hike up, and you wonder if you were to ever fall straight down the stairs. That thought is immediately covered when you’re met with a hallway that leads to each upstairs room. Each door is closed, but an obvious streak of old blood leads to one door, water also leaking from under the crack and soaking the carpet. Muffled rustling is heard from the other side of the door when Felix and you approach it. He gives you a firm nod as his hand slowly turns the door knob, both your guns ready to fire at whatever may lurk behind.

The two of you jump at the sharp and instant lunge of a shrieking creature. What appears to be once a lady, her pale skin is now flayed and her eyes of nothing but pure white emptiness. To both your relief, the zombie has her neck tied in a rope secured to the feet of the bed. The creature’s efforts in breaking free is immediately ceased when she drops limp from the bullet you shot through her head. Felix is already scavenging through drawers for anything that might be of use. As you search the bedroom, you notice areas of the carpet puddled in water which you avoid, not wanting it to soak your worn boots.

“Oh my god, imagine if the stores were still open!” Felix gasps, holding out a stack of cash in the air he found in the nightstand.

You chuckle. “You probably could’ve got the combat game you’ve been dying for.”

“For real, right!” He giggles, a melodic sound that makes you forget there even is an apocalypse for a split second. “Anyway, you think we could stay for the night?”

You peer out the cracked window, the sun perfectly being held on top the horizon. “It’s not like we have a choice.”

“Alright, well I don’t hear anything else either, but I’ll check the other rooms.” He gives an assuring smile and a kiss on your temple.

“I’ll be right there then.” You watch him exit to check the remaining upstairs while you scavenge through the remaining areas in the bedroom. You try your best to have your eyes land anywhere but the corpse, already knowing the sickness you’ll feel bubble up if you do. It most certainly doesn’t help that the further you stay, the stronger the rotting stench seems to grow. You curse the need to breathe in this moment. Good news, you think to yourself though, is the silence down the hall which ensures that nothing out of the ordinary has occurred. Just as you’re about to turn away from the closet, you feel a tight hold latch around you, an arm pressing your throat as well. You let out a yelp, but only to receive the grip on you grow even more suffocating.

“Shush now, we wouldn’t want you to be luring anyone else, do we now?” A raspy voice from an unfamiliar man of amusement emits in your ear.

“Felix!” You call out for your boyfriend. You let out a cry of desperation as you toss your body around in the man’s arms, then raise your leg to kick him. Just as he groans in pain and you feel yourself loosen at the slightest, you slam your head back, coming in contact with the man’s chin having his stumble aback.

“You bitch!” He growls, hand clutching the bottom of his face in pain.

You don’t wait another second to dash out of the room, calling for Felix. Unfortunately, you don’t get far as a searing pain pierces through your shoulder, forcing you to stumble forward on the floor with a cry. The man pulls the back of your top to force you on your feet, having you in his hold like not long ago. “Thought you could get—”

“Let her go!” A stern voice booms down the hall. Your eyes shoot open from pain just to land on the freckled boy who has his gun aimed in your direction, but at the man who refuses to let you go. “I said let her go!” His eyes are dark, ablaze with fury. Knowing Felix though, you know how a part of him is trembling on the inside of complete panic, just how you are but instead quite expressively.

“You all made a huge mistake. Entering here, then barging in, even killing my wife,” He cackles like a maniac. “All for what though? We all are going to die, and I’m surely not going down by myself like a fool today.” That’s when a terrorizing scent fully settles the hall. The smell of something burning, the smell of something that tells you to do nothing but leave immediately. Back there, that wasn’t water… 

Out of the blue yet much more of a suffering’s delight, a sharp impact strikes through your head before everything goes black.

Nothing but darkness…

You miss the sound of the firing gun. You miss the fire that unleashes behind as well.

-present time-

“Felix!” You feel lightheaded, your voice feels like it helplessly grows mute against the crackles of the fire.

“Y/N!” And you swear your heart leaps the moment you hear your boyfriend’s voice. He’s alive. You struggle but manage to get upon your feet, using a wall for support as you make your way towards a silhouette in the haze.

Felix stumbles towards you in sight, only wanting to pull you into his embrace, but that would only end in being burned alive. So he’s quick to pull you with his hand laced with yours, guiding you towards the downstairs. Embers are flying everywhere in the smoke that has your eyes burning. The flames penetrate through the walls, beams collapsing to your feet. Exiting the house feels like it’s taking years, and not only that, but it feels like time is only ticking just how it is. The two of you manage to stumble out the door, coughing and heaving desperately for pure air.

“Lix,” You let out a small cry as the boy beside you falls forward, his hands catching him above the ground just barely. Your eyes widen in pure horror as you see a crimson stain absorbed on the side of his shirt, blood dripping from it. “Shit, Felix.” It’s clear he’s having difficulty bringing himself to his feet, so you do it for him; having his arm wrapped around your shoulder despite it adding more pain to you. Felix only groans in agony, a few tears escaping from his eyes; tears of pain and fear, for himself and you.

After limping to a safe distance away from the fire with Felix’s weight held against you, the two of you settle down in the field. Felix still has his arm around your shoulder, resting against you as you keep him up. His eyes are drowsy, burn marks covering his skin and freckles. You wish you could kiss all of it away, you really do, but this world apparently prefers suffering to be set upon anyone in its path.

Especially for the wound that petrifies him on the left side of his torso. His tattered clothes are drowned in blood in that area.

He looks at you, a soft smile resting on his face. He’s in pain and it’s clear, but if he were to focus on that, what good would that be for the both of you? “Don’t worry so much, angel,” He says weakly.

Your bag is set in your lap, hands pulling out bandages and disinfectant for the boy. “How could you say that right now?” You ask in disbelief, a disbelief not in frustration but in sadness. He shifts his body to give you easier access in cleaning his wounds, wincing at the movement. “Don’t move, it’ll worsen,” You warn.

“Your shoulder, though! Y/N let-”

“No, I’m fine.” You stop his hand in mid-air as he reaches for the bandage in your hold. “Trust me, you need to be fixed more than I do.”

Felix always found his mind drifting off into an abyss of the actual end. He wondered how long life will allow him and you to run together, and what it will feel like when that end finally comes. He hopes that at all costs you wouldn’t get hurt, that you wouldn’t be the one taken from this world before him nor from him. Being in a zombie apocalypse is harsh survival, and he always assumed an end would be the result of gunfire from competition or the bites of starving monsters. And from all that, he made scenarios up for each disaster, scenarios where it all revolved around you. This though? Oh how he feels caught off guard.

Felix wants to cry, he wants to spill out every tear and sorry for how he can’t hold on to too much strength anymore to be there for you. Life is cut short for him, and life is cutting him from you. He wants to protect you until the end, but how can he when his and your endings are different? His heart aches of how alone you’ll be, and he doesn’t want you to suffer for his sake. Leaving you alone to fight for yourself in this world of cursed unfortunates? He can only internally tremble and drown in guilt.

He mentally curses at himself, wanting to say everything he feels and all the words to assure you, but his throat feels rather tight and voice feels too weak to even surface his mouth. So instead, he continues to have an arm holding onto you, feeling the comforting warmth of your skin. If he can’t verbally be there with you, he’ll show everything he can with his touch instead. With his eyes gazing at the sun, it too appears to be sending its farewells.

“There’s no point,” He mumbles weakly. “We’re stranded in the open, and I doubt that this wound isn’t going to spare me.”

“Don’t say shit like that,” You frown, tears pricking at the edge of your eyes. Your hands are still in the midst of patching him up, but it’s a great challenge as the wound is deeper than it appears, and there’s so much blood oozing out. “I’ll follow you,” You murmur. “I-I can’t— I won’t let you go.” You shift to get a clear glimpse of his face, seeing how he too is crying. Yet, his eyes rest on the sky that dares to fall asleep.

“I never got to tell you this, or you probably already know. I-I don’t know. But watching the sunset is my absolute favorite thing to do with you. Even way before any of this happened.”

You observe around you. The distant house is no longer illuminated by the rays of the sun but rather the fire that sources from it. It remains burning and cackling in the field, killing the grass around it and emitting a fume of black smoke above. One moment it was a home and the next it was nothing but a crash of disaster that almost took the life of Felix and you that very instance. The deep warm hues blend in with the ones displayed by the sky, the sky that holds the setting sun.

“We can make it.” An encouragement that each of you are desperate to hear.

“No, you can make it. Angel, listen, I’ll only drag us down because of my state.”

“No you listen! It doesn’t matter, we’re both going to be out here at night, so I at least want to have you here for as long as possible.” Felix grows weaker by the minute, he feels it and you sense it. God, if only… ‘If only’ can become a list of reasons to have Felix and you anywhere but this current moment. “Like I said, I’ll follow you. Even if we don’t make it out together.”

Your boyfriend feels eased from your words, greatly warmed about how you feel the way he does about you; wanting nothing more than just to stay together. The sun sets, and your minds are left unsure of the future. Unsure of how long Felix can hold out like this and if you two are to even last through the night after being put up with such vulnerability. You don’t know what to say, your mind under an overwhelming wave of emotions, so you just speak with your heart rather than your mind, telling the boy who's holding you how much he makes you feel.

“You know,” His voice soft as ever. “I always dreamed that one day we could go and see the world together. All the new experiences and sceneries, how I’d kiss you in every city and under sunsets like these.” He grabs both your occupied hands from his wound to within his. He doesn’t want to spend this time worrying, he doesn’t want it to be the last thing the two of you feel for the day. All he wants is to just hold you, talk to you about places he dreamed of going to with you. And so he does, and you give in. Like the world exists for the two of you, like nothing happened in the first place.

The world is too corrupt for constant tears that won’t change a thing anyway.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: SKZ Materialist*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#I apologize that it's a bit rushed #lee felix x reader #lee felix #yongbok x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshot #felix x reader #lee felix imagines #yongbok imagines #felix oneshot #skz oneshots #skz imagines #skz angst #stray kids #felix imagines

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

Trigger Warning: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

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Chapter 5/?: Housewarming

Sasuke spars with Naruto for the better portion of the afternoon into evening, until they are both sufficiently exhausted and slightly sunburned, on the condition that he will eat anywhere but Ichiraku’s and anything but ramen for the dinner his friend is trying to goad him into after. Naruto agrees all too quickly, grinning too much for his liking, and saying a little duplicitously, “That so? Happens that I know a place!”

The blond refuses to tell him where he’s leading him after their fight finally concludes in a draw, weaving tiredly through village streets around six at night with bruised ribs. Sasuke begins to suspect it’s an elaborate ruse to lure him to his house to eat. Sure enough, eventually they turn a corner and marigold, cobalt, and fuchsia invade his line of vision.

“You’re so stupid. I’m not eating anything you’ve put your hands on.”

Naruto laughs, evidently not the slightest bit offended. “Don’t worry, Hinata-chan made me a bunch of food for the next few days! There’s more than enough to share, and I haven’t touched any of it.”

Sasuke grumbles, but his friend assures him that at least some of it’s not ramen, so he acquiesces cautiously and follows him through the threshold of his home.

It is pretty nice, as Sakura said, though he’s sure that’s because of the dobe’s wife and not him, and what he’s comparing it to - Naruto’s old apartment, littered with trash and expired food items in the fridge - doesn’t set a very high bar in the first place. The house has wood floors, and a spacious kitchen with plenty of storage, at least from what he discerns when he first walks in. He assumes he’s going to be forced on the tour shortly to view the rest of it.

There is an absolute mountain of pre-prepared food in clear containers when his friend opens the fridge. Sasuke will admit pretty much everything looks good, though he’s not sure what specifically the dobe plans on them eating. He’s not sure Naruto knows, either; he stares at the contents of the fridge for a long minute, squinting as if making a life-changing decision.

“...Does she think you can’t feed yourself or something?” Sasuke deadpans.

Naruto laughs nervously, in a way that gives Sasuke the impression that Hinata Uzumaki might not be as quiet and reserved as most people assume, at least behind closed doors. His friend almost sounds fearful, as if there may be consequences for him if he doesn’t eat what his wife has prepared for him in her absence in its entirety.

“...Or she just knows you’d eat instant ramen the whole time she was gone, otherwise.” This time it’s not a question.

Naruto has the grace to at least feign embarrassment. “Well, uh, you know what they say… Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his food, or whatever!” Sasuke wonders for a short few seconds what kind of repercussion Hinata could possibly be holding over him, but then remembers Kakashi’s warning earlier in the day, and decides abruptly that he doesn’t care to further pursue that train of thought.

Eventually they decide on vegetable and shrimp tempura with plain onigiri, all premade. Sasuke is hungry, and tempura has a high caloric intake. Naruto dumps the tempura in a mysterious device called an air fryer to warm, and while they wait, the blond shows him around.

It’s commodious, with extra bedrooms as Sakura said. Most of the furniture is rich dark wood, accented with slightly vibrant colors, inclusive of the walls, that are perhaps a little intense for his own preferences. It is obvious that Naruto helped pick the paint colors, but he assumes Hinata must like them, too. The Hyuga are an old clan, deeply rooted in tradition as the Uchiha had been; Sasuke imagines that many of the interiors at the Hyuga residences are varying shades of white, gray, or brown, also with darker wood, as many of the Uchiha households had been; a more colorful interior would have been a change for her. He supposes a proclivity for brightness makes sense, given that she’d married Naruto. Their house overall smells vaguely like jasmine blossom and nectarine, though not overbearingly so. Naruto’s apartment had never smelled like that, so it must be Hinata’s doing. Sasuke spies a candle the color of honey that might be the source, perched on a corner table.

It sits next to a framed copy of their original Team Seven group portrait. Sasuke eyes it as they pass through the living room again to the back door.

It opens up to a sizable backyard situated on the north side of the house, framed with a fence for privacy and a number of lush trees, dangling greenery swaying in the breeze. A small garden sits in the far back left corner, the area with the least tree cover; it’s been recently tilled and sowed, small sprouts beginning to poke through the soil.

“We get lots of fireflies back here in the summer. Hinata-chan loves them, so we sit back here all the time! She’s thinking of getting a birdbath, too,” Naruto mentions fondly, a bit more hushed than his usual timbre; he must have some good memories back here already.

“It’s nice.” Sasuke remarks at the end when they go back inside, because it is, and his friend grins from ear to ear, stupidly proud. Then the timer dings from the other room, and they eat.

Hinata’s cooking is good. Sasuke sorts out all of the sweet potato chunks to shove onto Naruto’s plate, but eats the rest: squash, bell peppers, eggplant, broccoli, and shrimp, coated in spiced breading that tastes slightly of rosemary, along with the onigiri, more simple but also filling.

Naruto prattles throughout as always, but chews his food before launching into each new topic; it really must be a habit by now. Sasuke doesn’t hold the scroll over his head just yet; he figures Saturday night will be enough opportunity for that. Instead, he solidifies plans for another spar, this time late Saturday morning, because through the nearly endless chatter he has learned that Naruto’s schedule includes normal weekend days off, unless assigned a mission.

The dobe asks him to go drinking with him afterwards; he declines, but thanks him for dinner. Eventually, he departs, after his best friend reminds him for the fourth time today to meet up at Ichiraku’s on Saturday night at six.

As he walks home, lone hand in his pocket, Sasuke finds himself pondering once again what Sakura’s living space will be like. She doesn’t strike him as someone who would like darker wood, for some reason. It’s an apartment, so it will be smaller than Naruto’s house for sure. He assumes it’s probably one bedroom, like his own.

The cadence of crickets creeps in again as he leaves the more lively area of town, buoyed into something quieter by the swishing of leaves through the trees. It’s a sound he craved on his travels often. There are similar sounds elsewhere - insects and trees are not uncommon - but something about Konoha’s particular lilt sticks out in his memories. A clement wind from the north carries an aroma tinged with flowers and loam. When he turns the corner, the breeze blows just right to shift his hair away from his left eye, and his neck heats as he thinks of Sakura’s words from this morning, not for the first time today.

Once he gets back to his apartment, he strips, then tosses his clothing directly into the washing machine, before enjoying a long, near-boiling shower; after the workout he’s had, he needs it. He thinks as he scrubs that this way he won’t need another one until after he gets back from seeing Sakura tomorrow. He contemplates whether they will eat somewhere, since he’s meeting her at the hospital at four. He’d liked the tea shop; she probably knows of other places worth trying.

He is so exhausted that he saves washing his dishes for tomorrow and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. His last thoughts are of gentle jade eyes and kind words murmured in an exam room.

Sasuke is thankful that he doesn’t have another nightmare, but his brain decides to fill the time in other demiurgic ways involving soft fingertips, and when morning comes, he does need another shower, after all; this time, a cold one.

He pinches his nose guiltily as frigid water engulfs him, until his teeth are near chattering. Once that’s done, he throws on a black shirt and pants before grabbing a book. He huddles up under his comforter to chase away the chill, drowning his thoughts in icy history ripe with distraction rather than lasciviousness.

He finishes it eventually, convinced towards the end that he needs to acquire a small lamp; he doesn't like overhead lighting in general, but he especially doesn’t like it for reading. His teeth have stopped clacking together, so he gets out of bed and spends the first portion of the day washing dishes, sharpening his chokuto, and then making lunch, seared beef with green tea noodles and miso dressing. It’s simple, but good, and filling. His throat hurts less than yesterday, but he has another cough drop after, because it helps.

He washes and dries the dishes from today, putting them away before he leaves his apartment to pick up a few more groceries to fill the time. The market he visits is sold out of loose leaf sencha tea; the one he’d visited the first day in his apartment hadn’t had any, either. He settles for a small box of single-serve packets for the time being, and has a cup upon his return to his apartment. It’s not bad, but it doesn’t taste quite as fresh. He reads more of his other book for a bit, until it’s time to leave to meet Sakura at the hospital.

He leaves a little early again, because he’s eager to see her.

Sakura greets him cheerily, lovely with a tote bag on her shoulder that is starting to become familiar. She tells him that she dropped off his paperwork earlier today, and that his bloodwork has all come back normal. He thanks her, and they spend a nice late afternoon together, roaming around while she points out areas of interest, most of it new development on the more southern part of the village. Wandering with her is much preferable to solivagant ambling on his own, he is coming to find.

He learns that Sunday and Monday are indeed her days off, unless there is an emergency; she mentions that she has a standing date with Ino every Monday morning for training and lunch, but other than that, she keeps her free time pretty open.

“Would you… like to do something on Sunday, then?” He asks carefully, hand twitching a little in his pocket and stomach churning a little in nervousness, though she has given him no reason to be. He hopes he’s not being avaricious by asking for too much of her time. She might prefer to spend some time alone on her days off.

Glittering green eyes beam up at him in response. “Of course,” she answers, and the storm brewing in his belly settles while the vines reach upwards into his chest cavity, because she says it with an inflection that implies there’s nothing she would rather do.

“I think it’s supposed to rain,” Sakura tells him as they walk further southwest; they’re nearing the edge of the village now. “So we probably don’t want to walk around too much. I usually…” Her eyes flick to him, and then away, as if self-conscious. “I usually curl up inside with a book on rainy days. Or... watch documentaries. Sometimes I play go or chess.”

A ghost of a smile overtakes him, because reading on a rainy day is very characteristic of her, but so are the other two things, which he hadn’t known.

Then she’s asking, somewhat shyly, “What do you like to do, on a rainy day?”

It’s a good question; he hasn’t been home for a rainy day in a long time. When he was traveling, he would find shelter - an inn, or the inside of a tree or a cave - and do various tasks that needed doing, like sharpening weapons or writing a letter to her. On those days, he would also often read her old correspondence to him, too, but he’d be embarrassed to admit that to her.

When he was younger, though, he would complete any neglected chores in the morning, and then spend the rest of the day reading, though he did it mainly for productivity to the point of distraction. Sasuke did not like being cooped up in his house for long periods of time, for obvious reasons. Occasionally he would venture to a training ground anyway, if the rain was more light drizzle than downpour, but most of the time he opted not to, because getting sick would delay his progress more than sitting out a day; he could advance in other ways, look into new techniques and practice taijutsu forms inside, if he really focused.

If it rained heavily for more than a day or two consecutively, though, trapping him in the house, he tended to struggle more with it. Sometimes he would stare at a kunai or shuriken left behind in Itachi’s room for too long, and end up sticking his wrist out a back window to watch the water cleanse the wound he’d carved into his skin until it coagulated. It wasn't something he did often, because he knew it was stupid and weak despite the small semblance of control it afforded. It also wasn’t something he only did when it was raining, but being entombed in that house due to inclement weather poured salt into his baser self-destructive tendencies, irritation burning until it was too much and it had to escape his skin to go somewhere. When it rained, it felt like it was an opportunity to rinse it out of him, a tiny increment of relief, rivulets reaching down to turn him over in the grave of dark wood and dull paint colors it felt like he was suffocating in.

Sasuke would go get groceries most of the time, before it got to that point, even if he didn't need them, just to get out of the house for a bit and away from the temptation. He’d come back soaked, tracking water everywhere before curling up in his bed to try to chase away the chill with more distraction, books or scrolls or trying to watch something. Eventually he’d warm up on the outside, but his insides still felt icy for a long time, most days.

He's in an apartment now, though, a long way from what used to be the Uchiha District. He takes a grounding breath that he hopes is subtle, trying to emerge from the glaucous recollection and subsequent smothering feeling lining his lungs. “...I do any chores that need doing, and then I like to read, too,” he finally answers. It's the truth, now. Keen but soft eyes hold his for a moment, and he worries maybe he didn’t fully succeed at the subtlety, but she doesn’t press. He’s thankful for it; he doesn’t want to think about that when he’s with her.

They make plans to have lunch and spend the afternoon reading their respective books at her apartment. He might finish his other book by Sunday’s end; maybe she would go to the library with him again Monday afternoon, if she’s not too busy. He wouldn’t mind playing go or chess, either, if she asks him. It would be a challenge; he hasn’t played either in years. He’ll save it for Sunday, though.

“I can cook,” she offers, looking very pleased, which makes his heart flutter in his chest. “Maybe soup and something to go with it, if it’s chillier? I have a slow cooker I can start it in, the morning of.”

He agrees immediately; he likes soup, and it’s been a while since he’s had a good bowl. Most of the soup he made on the road was limited to whatever ingredients were readily available, with simple water as stock. The result was usually something bland, warming but not hearty by even the barest standards; soup made in a kitchen is much better. He’ll eat any kind, really, especially if it’s cold out. He wonders what Sakura’s cooking is like; she excels at most everything she does, so he imagines it must be good.

By just after five, they’ve ended up at a fairly new and distinctive quadrant of training grounds a little beyond the southwest edge of the village, sharp quartz rock jutting up from uneven ground in several spots and a small creek running down its center. Parts of it sit at a raised elevation, offering a unique vantage point of Konoha. Sasuke realizes as he eyes the surroundings that he would like to train here sometime; the craggy terrain could prove an interesting element to contend with, an exercise of both the mind and body. He’s glad she showed him; he wouldn’t have ventured to this side of town for a long time, on his own.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, thinking he could buy her dinner if she knows any places nearby. It’ll be busier now that it’s dinner time, once they get back into the village, but he doesn’t mind.

Sakura doesn’t answer at first, and instead starts to fiddle inside her bag. His brows knit in confusion, but then she pulls out two bottles of water, two bento boxes, and two pairs of chopsticks.

They’re in reusable containers, not takeout ones, which means she must have made them herself. Sasuke stares at the one she gives him, dumbfounded; it’s filled to the brim with cooked rice topped with black sesame seeds, tonkatsu with sauce, shredded cabbage, green beans goma-ae, and a large number of tomato wedges. Her own has less tomato; a few grapes round it out instead. He also notices the tonkatsu sauce is already poured over hers, but his is in a small sealed container, so he can eat the pork plain if he decides he doesn’t care for the tangy but also slightly sweet dressing.

“I thought we could eat these here... if you want. We could avoid the dinner rush that way. I made the sauce a little less sweet than usual, but I still wasn’t sure, so I thought I’d let you decide,” Sakura offers, soft and kind. He’s too stunned to say anything right away, so she adds somewhat sheepishly, “If... you’d rather get something else, though, that’d be fine, too.”

He thanks her very quietly, then, a little dazed and throat closing up, because he would not rather get something else; he hasn’t had a bento in a long time, let alone one that was prepared specifically for him. The training ground is empty, so they hop up one of the small cliffs and eat it there as she suggests, in view of Hokage Rock framed by trees. It is very good, clearly made with fresh ingredients; the pork is juicy on the inside and texturally crunchy on the outside. The sauce is good, too; not too sweet. He makes sure to eat all of it, as well as to tell her he enjoyed it at the end. She flushes at the compliment; she is very pretty, pink hair and pink cheeks to match.

"How long do you think it'll be before Naruto's up there?" She asks him after they’ve been sitting there for the better part of an hour, food long finished and eerily echoing his thoughts from a few nights ago.

Sasuke regards the mountain, empty space next to Kakashi's likeness. He recalls dinner yesterday at his friend’s home, Naruto sharing food with him made by his wife, and Ichiraku’s the day before that, how he no longer talks with his mouth full, and how he has not pressured him to share about Sakura. Sasuke is sure his rare tact won't last forever, and that he'll be hounded about his relationship with her eventually, but he has appreciated the space gifted to him. For all of their teammate’s fatuousness, he really has grown. If he can get an increment better at deciphering scrolls...

"Not long," he responds eventually. "Five years. Maybe six, with the sculpting."

Sakura nods in agreement, an evocative smile playing at her lips; she must suppose the same.

He speculates, then, tearing his gaze away from her mouth, who else they will see on the mountain in their lifetimes, in the empty space extending to the right. He thinks Naruto is the type to live to be pretty old, especially if Hinata is coercing him into eating balanced nutritional meals now; he might make it to a point where he actually retires from being Hokage, like Tsunade, or Kakashi, eventually.

The next Hokage could be in the village already, maybe in the Academy still, or a Genin. Sasuke remembers a scrawny kid with atrocious camouflage techniques who used to follow Naruto around and challenge him to battles over the position; it may have been the Third's grandson. He hadn’t seemed particularly talented at the time, but then again, neither was Naruto at that age. It’s possible that the kid has progressed since then. It’s also possible, though, that the next Hokage has not even been born yet.

Sasuke walks Sakura home a couple of hours later, dark violet light of dusk cast on her through diamonds on her doorstep. Her expression is the same as the other night, eyes sparking with gold affection, so he kisses her again, hesitantly hoping it’s okay, because he really wants to. Apparently it is, because she rests her hands on his shoulders and kisses him back without an ounce of uncertainty. His hand is free this time, so he rests it on her waist carefully, and enjoys a sweet breath of spring.

XXX

Sasuke arrives at Ichiraku’s at six on the dot to find both of his teammates already there, with an empty seat left between them and three glasses of water on familiar currant red counters. He is unsurprised to see that Kakashi’s not here yet. There’s an empty seat to Naruto’s left that is clearly being saved for their old sensei using one of Naruto’s sandals, off his foot; it’s pretty busy, being a Saturday night. He also notes Sakura’s tote bag situated beneath the counter, underneath the stool she’s sitting on; perhaps her afternoon with Ino went longer than anticipated, and she hasn’t had time to go home yet.

Both of them turn their heads as he approaches, brightening and greeting him in unison beneath fluorescent lighting.

“Teme!”

“Hey, Sasuke-kun.”

It is terribly nostalgic. He takes the place between them, responding, “Sakura. Dobe.” The streets themselves are busy, but within the actual enclosure of Ichiraku’s, it’s not as loud.

“We haven’t ordered yet,” Sakura tells him good-naturedly, smiling and pushing him a menu. His gaze lingers on her for a second before looking down at it. She’s pretty beneath fluorescent lighting, too.

“We’re not fucking waiting for Kakashi-sensei, though. I’m hungry , and who knows when he’ll turn up? He’s probably reading one of his stupid books and lost track of time again,” Naruto grumbles, peckish, from his other side. His friend’s stomach growls, as if on cue.

Sakura laughs, then sighs from his right. “He’s probably lost in a pile of paperwork. At least this time it might be true.”

“...He might be trying to finish breaking the cipher on that scroll you can’t seem to solve,” Sasuke quips smugly towards his left, eyeing the menu, though he doesn’t really need to; he knows his order already.

He is way too satisfied by Naruto’s huff. “Ugh, I’m fucking sick of staring at that thing. It makes me feel like my brain is melting. I wish he’d just give me a mission. I want to fight something.”

“I’m sure you’ll both get one eventually,” Sakura remarks with confidence. “Try to enjoy the peacetime a little. It’s a good thing. Besides, if you really want to, you can just go battle it out at the training grounds...” She eyes them both with a critical and calculating scrutiny now, a single pink brow arched and something in her tone shifting. “...Though by the bruising, I’m sure that’s already happened.”

There is a fist shaped smear of violet he knows is on his forearm, clearly visible from her vantage point. At least his ribs are hidden; there are nasty bruises on three of them from the first spar, and another two developing from this morning. Naruto looks a little scared, when he glances over at him; despite the fact that the blond is laughing nervously, his hand is held awkwardly, obviously trying to shield the bruise he has on his chin, turning purplish-blue by now.

It was another draw. Sasuke expects he’ll be able to beat him, next time. He’s found he’s a bit rusty, not having too many excuses to use his more advanced techniques in a long while.

Sakura rolls her eyes after a tense moment, and the spell is broken. “If either of you break anything, just don’t be stupid; come to the hospital or my place so I can fix it.”

“Sure, sure, anything you say, Sakura-chan!” The dobe responds next to him, hesitant laughter still tinged a little with fear. Sasuke nods, then thinks for about the fifth time today that he’s going to see her apartment tonight.

Once Sasuke slides the menu back, Naruto catches Teuchi’s attention; the blond orders garlic tonkotsu, Sasuke orders hakata tonkotsu, and Sakura orders shoyu ramen. It’s the same as what they used to get when they were kids.

It’s a nice evening for this, he thinks.

“So what’s new at the hospital, Sakura-chan?” Naruto asks conversationally. “Anything exciting?”

Sasuke shifts his gaze to his right, where Sakura looks as if she’s giving it a lot of thought, lips shifted to the side; he forces his eyes upward. “Eh, nothing too exciting, yet. Just appointments and research, for the most part. I’ve got some long-term projects I’m working on, but I’m just kind of waiting to see how the data pans out at this point while I monitor. It’ll be another month or so yet for anything concrete there, I think.” She cocks her head to the side a little. “I’ve got a transplant patient we’re waiting on an organ for, so we’ve been trying to prep her so she’s ready; different medicinal cocktails, testing, and such.” She pauses. “Tsunade-shishou sent over some things that arrived this morning, though, and one of them was a sample of a new poison found in a few Shinobi in Wind. I guess that’s… interesting. She’s going to work on it, too, so hopefully we get an antidote quickly, but I started some tests on it today.”

Sasuke’s lips turn downwards. That doesn’t sound good.

“Ehhh, between you and Granny Tsunade, I’m sure you’ll find an antidote soon!” Naruto chirps positively from his left. Then he quiets, in a manner that suggests he’s cogitative. “How bad?”

“Well, it’s slow enough progression-wise that they’ll live if we find an antidote in time; they’ve got at least a month, we think. Maybe more, if Tsunade-shishou keeps siphoning it out via the Delicate Illness Extraction Technique. It’s not... pleasant for the patient, obviously, but it works. She’s already run most of the preliminary tests; calcium chloride, pyridoxine, sodium bicarbonate, so we at least have some stuff ruled out.,, There might be others eventually, though, so it would be best to nip it in the bud and have an antidote readily available, really.”

“...What do you know about it so far?” Sasuke asks. “In terms of the type of toxin.” Having been dosed numerous times with poisons to build up resistance, he knows he is essentially immune to many of them, but a new one popping up is never something one should disregard in their line of work.

Jade shifts to him. “We suspect it might be a mixture of several venoms, plus a heavy neurotoxin. Epinephrine doesn’t work at all, though; that’s why we’re leaning towards it being a combo. Something has to be continuing the effects while that cycles through the system.”

Neurotoxins are troublesome; a mixture with it is nothing to scoff at. “It causes paralysis?” He questions.

Sakura inclines her head in a nod. “Immediately after Tsunade-shishou uses the Extraction Technique, though, they gain some movement back, so if we can find an antidote, it won’t be permanent.”

There is a contemplative silence.

“So what you’re saying is, you’re gonna kill a lot of rats,” Naruto finally jokes from his left, gauche as ever and clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“They’re mice, not rats,” Sakura responds, rolling her eyes. “But yes. We probably will. Necessary sacrifice, I suppose.”

There is a substantial length of time that feels heavy, even with the distant background noise of people going about their evening.

Sakura is the one to break it. “What about you, Naruto? Anything new? Hinata’s on a mission, I heard. What have you been doing to fill the time?”

Sasuke glances back to his left, where Naruto is grinning suspiciously.

“You mean other than kicking the shit out of teme?”

Sasuke narrows his eyes. “As I recall, both spars were draws, dead last .”

Naruto laughs, unbothered and waving his hand jokingly. “Eh, really I dunno. Mostly just helping Kakashi-sensei at the office. He’s torturing me with homework , since Hinata-chan’s gone.”

Suddenly their food is being placed in front of them. His smells good, charred pork belly swimming in spring onion, nori, mushrooms, noodles, and ginger. Sakura says thank you to Teuchi, and then he hears her break her chopsticks. She doesn’t miss a beat. “Hypothetical mission assemblages again?”

Naruto groans as he snaps his own chopsticks. “Yeah, it’s a nightmare. I know most of the people our age fine enough, but you basically have to memorize everyone’s abilities, strengths, and weaknesses, or you spend hours doing it because you have to refer to The Binder.” The way the dobe articulates The Binder makes it sound ominous.

“Huh. Now that I know it’s a nightmare, I’ll make sure to give you even more of it,” a familiar voice lilts behind them.

The three of them turn, and Kakashi is behind them, clad in simple Jonin dress instead of Hokage robes, for all appearances completely unbothered by the fact that he’s nearly twenty minutes late.

All three of them give him a withering look, slightly tinged with nostalgia, and say nothing.

“Sorry. Got lost in a pile of paperwork.”

Their old sensei removes Naruto’s shoe from his saved seat, and places it directly on the blond’s head. It promptly falls off and nearly lands in the idiot’s bowl of ramen as he splutters to catch it. Kakashi orders hakata tonkotsu without even glancing at the menu, same as Sasuke.

“So. Isn’t this nice,” The Hokage drawls. “How are we all? Enjoying the springtime?”

“It’s good! Hinata-chan planted a garden! We’re gonna have broccoli, and sweet potatoes, and maybe even pumpkin!” Naruto responds as he shoves his shoe unceremoniously back onto his foot before reaching for his chopsticks again.

“The weather has been nice," Sakura pipes up from behind him, though her tone of voice makes it sound as though more than that has been nice. Something in him twists pleasantly.

“...It’s good,” Sasuke comments last, before taking another bite of his food. It’s an understatement.

Kakashi looks content, head nodding in agreement. “Everything’s really greening up. I think it’s going to be a good year. No wars on the horizon, either, at least that I know of; that’s always preferable. Gets one into a reflective headspace.”

“About what, having time to read porn in your office?” Naruto quips sarcastically in between inhaling bites of bean sprouts and noodles, though Kakashi doesn’t seem at all fazed. Sasuke hasn’t seen any orange books in the times he’s visited the Hokage’s office so far, but he’d been sure they were stowed somewhere within easy access.

“Can’t a Hokage take a break to enjoy fine literature once in a while?” Their old sensei asks good-naturedly, but Naruto rolls his eyes as Sasuke, and he assumes Sakura, continue to eat their food at a normal pace.

“Fine literature? As if ! You forget I’ve read all those books. They’re full of good ideas, sure, but they’re still fucking porn ! And anyways, no, you can’t take a break. Not when you’re piling homework on me like I’m in the Academy still. I know , by the way.”

Now Kakashi’s smile turns a little nervous. To most people, the change would be imperceptible, but it’s there for those that know him well. “Know what, exactly?”

The blond’s eyes narrow accusingly. “That you’re actually using my homework to put together squads for real fucking missions! I shouldn’t have to find out from Shikamaru. In the Academy, they expel kids for that shit.”

Judging by the caught expression on Kakashi’s face, there is at least some element of truth to this, which means Naruto must be doing an okay job, at the very least. Interesting .

“So a sensei isn’t allowed to appreciate and value the advice of a cherished student?”

“Whatever. Just keep giving me days off when Hinata-chan’s home and maybe I won’t tattle to the other kages.”

Kakashi smiles. “I can do that.”

There is a beat where everyone besides their sensei is quiet, taking a few bites of their food. Sasuke’s is good; he’s hungry. Going near all out against Naruto has given him a little more of an appetite, the past few days. He’s been trying to eat more, as Sakura suggested.

“Sakura, I received an interesting letter from Tsunade today.” their old sensei drawls after a bit. Sasuke shifts slightly. She’s swallowing a bite, and looking curious.

“About the poison?”

Sasuke glances back to his left in time to see Kakashi nod. “The poison, and also other worthwhile projects. Let me know if you need any funding for such things, and I’ll find a way to take care of it.”

Sasuke wonders what kinds of projects, but assumes it might be rather confidential when Sakura blinks, then nods, answering simply, “Thank you, Kakashi-sensei; it’s greatly appreciated.” Perhaps it has to do with her research.

Naruto finishes off his first bowl, and orders another. Now that he’s not inhaling food, he begins chattering again.

“So anyways, when are you gonna send us all on a mission together again?! I feel like I’ve been trapped in that office with you like an old croney for eighty-four years.”

Suddenly Kakashi appears very tired, eyes narrowing in exhaustion. “If you feel trapped now, I’d hate to see how you feel in five years or so.” He pauses, as Naruto narrows his eyes at him and crosses his arms. “I have a lost cat mission you could complete, I suppose. Or would you rather clean up the river? It’s good weather for it. Water’s warming up.”

Naruto looks at him indignantly. “As if. I want a real mission!! One that suits our strengths.”

The way Kakashi considers Naruto then is fond. Sasuke vaguely recollects a time where Naruto begged the Third for a ‘real’ mission a long time ago; that must be what he’s remembering.

“Well, the problem with that is that Sakura formally outranks you,” he finally retorts. His food shows up a second after he finishes talking.

Naruto groans. “This shit again?” Sasuke assumes this must be a running thing Kakashi likes to hold over his friend’s head. Technically it’s correct; Sakura had told him she’d made Jonin at the exams in Earth Country a while back, in one of her earlier letters. He’s sure she could have made Jonin sooner, but she’d been occupied with things at the hospital, he thinks. Naruto and himself, meanwhile, had never taken the exams, though it hadn’t affected their ability to take A and S-rank missions, given their role in ending the war; they held honorary Jonin positioning in all but the actual title itself, and weren’t held back from missions because of it in any way, but still, Sakura is the only one of their team that has taken them officially and passed. Naruto had told him that Tsunade didn’t want to promote Sakura like that, despite her contribution in ending the war, too; he’d assumed it was because the Fifth didn’t care for Sakura’s promotion to be in any way weighed down by assumptions of nepotism, especially with her taking over the hospital. Kakashi hadn't, either; he'd assumed for the same reason. Naruto and Sasuke getting special treatment regarding what missions they can accept is fine, because currently they hold no official titles, but with Sakura heading the hospital, it’s a different matter.

“How many times are you gonna hold that over my head?! Quit fucking around already. It’s not my fault Granny Tsunade wanted to show Sakura-chan off to all five nations, and besides, I was literally there, so it’s not like I don’t know.”

Sasuke blinks in sudden interest, as Kakashi quips, “If you were there, why didn’t you take the exams yourself? I seem to remember someone getting banned from the Kage’s seating area. That looks great for a future Hokage candidate, by the way, and was fun to try to de-escalate with the elders of Earth Country. Maybe you could have set a better example if you had also been taking the exams… Though I suppose it would have been embarrassing for you when Sakura beat you in three seconds flat.”

Sakura laughs a little to his right as if she is amused as Naruto complains some more, while Sasuke considers that he has never been given a detailed account of her performance at those exams, though he’s sure it was excellent. He’ll have to ask her or Naruto about it.

Naruto’s still whining. “Come ooooon. Just ONE teensy little mission. No bullshit. We’re all back; you basically have to, it’d be illegal NOT to. It can even be a B-rank.”

Kakashi doesn’t miss a beat. “I have a nice C-rank you two could probably handle.” Sasuke twitches a little, because he knows that’s directed at him, too, now. “Simple escort to Sand. Don’t want to take a prestigious Jonin away from her important work at the hospital, though, for such a measly thing.”

Sakura’s laugh twinkles. “Send Shikamaru. I’m sure he’d love to go.”

Kakashi grins, as if he is in on a joke. “Yes, Naruto, Sasuke, and Shikamaru. That would be an interesting team, to say the least, though perhaps a little overpowered. I’ll think it over… If nothing comes up that we desperately need Shikamaru for, that is.”

Naruto grumbles and turns to finish emptying his second bowl of ramen as Sasuke surmises inwardly, finishing off his own, that it would be an interesting team, even if it was just an escort. From what he knows, Nara is a capable leader and excellent strategist. He’s sure Shikamaru doesn’t like him very much, which is more than fair, but watching Naruto annoy someone else for a change would make the heated trek to Sand bearable. He wonders what Sakura’s comment was about, though. Maybe it was sarcasm, regarding most peoples’ general disdain for the sweltering weather there.

Sasuke notices, as he pushes his bowl forward, now empty, that Kakashi still hasn’t touched his food. He makes a mental note to keep an eye on that. When he glances to his right, he sees that Sakura has finished hers, too.

The restaurant is starting to clear out a little, it being closer to seven now. Naruto finally stops mumbling insults towards Kakashi, and instead peers at him as if he’s waiting for something. Maybe he wants to go home; his friend might have plans after this, though he’s not sure what they would be, given his wife is away.

“...Sorry to disappoint you, Sasuke, but we’ve been less than honest about dinner tonight,” Kakashi begins after meeting Naruto’s gaze. Sasuke’s brow furrows in puzzlement, and the dobe starts grinning smugly. When he glances the other way towards Sakura, she smiles, too, and looks a little guilty.

“It is also… a housewarming party.” The Hokage grins. “Though we thought we’d just have it here, and you could take your gifts home with you tonight.”

Sasuke frowns. “You didn’t need to-”

Naruto butts in, indignant and cutting him off accusingly with a pointed finger, “And don’t even TRY to say no, because I got you the best gift.” Sasuke has a brief premonition of his sparse kitchen cabinets suddenly filled with a month’s supply of instant ramen, and it takes everything in him not to roll his eyes. The dobe motions to Teuchi, gesturing towards the inner portion of the ramen stand, just below the counter. Sasuke then recalls the bag beneath Sakura’s chair, and frowns deeper, turning to her; though he’s sure the shoe box was free, she’s already given him the drying rack, which he’s sure was not. She didn’t need to get him anything else.

She just grins at him, eyes flashing with mirth as if she finds this amusing. He’s about to say something - he’s not sure what - when Naruto taps him on the shoulder. He turns, and the most poorly wrapped gift he has ever seen in his life comes into focus, a long thin mess of too much tape and intensely colorful paper, scrunched together haphazardly as if put together by a child with little motor control, and shoved directly into his face.

“...Why did you wrap it?”

His best friend rolls his eyes. “Because it’s a PRESENT, jackass. Besides, you guys wrapped yours too, right?!”

When Naruto looks from their old sensei to their teammate, Kakashi wears a jovial smile that tells him he didn’t, and Sakura doesn’t say anything behind him, but Naruto narrows his eyes, and that’s enough to tell him that she didn’t, either. “What the fuck, you guys are the worst! This is supposed to be a party!!”

Naruto sets the gift down on the counter in front of him, and Sasuke frowns at it stubbornly for a short while. The three of them are staring at him expectantly, though, so he sighs and reluctantly starts to peel the shoddy wrapping job away, curious as to where the idiot got instant ramen that comes in a long skinny box. He’s careful as he peels, so the paper doesn’t fly away in little chunks and litter the restaurant or the ground around them.

His brow creases as he peels away the final bit of paper and tape, because it’s not ramen, after all. Naruto’s gift is a paring board of a unique design, new from the store in an unopened box. The picture shows a maple wood finish, but with small skewers jutting vertically from it on the bottom center, on which one can spear vegetables or fruit to help hold it in place while slicing. It also has a corner guard on the upper left with an edge sealer to help keep other things one wants to slice, like bread or sushi, secure. In addition, it says it has silicone feet, so it doesn’t move around when you use it.

He didn’t know anything like this even existed. It is a surprisingly thoughtful and helpful gift, one that he’s sure comes from a deep understanding of the challenges that come with living with one arm, though Naruto has had the prosthetic, now, for a while.

Sasuke studies it for a long moment, genuinely touched. “...It’s nice. Thank you.” Truth be told, it’s more than nice, and will be incredibly useful. He won’t have to summon a clone anymore to cut things.

Naruto laughs and slaps him on the back, prompting Sasuke to glare at him. “Beat that, losers!” Kakashi smiles and casts his eye towards Sakura behind him, so Sasuke turns, brows furrowed again. She’s pulling a white container out of her bag, now in her lap, and then sliding it on the countertop next to Naruto’s gift.

He can see now that it’s a first aid kit. He looks back to her, meeting green eyes and slightly tinged cheeks. “I thought there might be some things you didn’t have, after traveling for so long.”

This is odd, because all ninja travel with a rudimentary first aid kit at the bare minimum, and Sakura of all people knows this; it’s an occupational hazard and frankly foolish not to. He stares at it as if it is a riddle, trying to figure out what could possibly be inside. Perhaps medicine or painkillers? Even those come in standard first aid kits for ninja, though. A hefty stock of food pills? He supposes he could take those on missions with him, if needed.

He’s sure both Kakashi and Naruto are thinking the same thing, but they don’t comment on it.

Finally, he responds, meeting her eyes, “Thank you.” He’ll open it later, when he’s alone, to see what’s actually in it. She really didn’t need to get him anything.

Her smile grows wider, and her eyes catch the light, gilded fervor that he thinks he could drown in. “You’re welcome.” After a beat, she glances at Kakashi, so Sasuke tears his irises away from flashing jade iridescent with metallic lambency and turns, too. When he does, he sees that Kakashi’s bowl is now empty. He tries to resist an annoyed twitch; he doesn’t know how he keeps pulling this off, after so many years.

Then his old sensei reaches into his vest and pulls out what appears to be a frame; it must have been tucked there this whole time, for safekeeping, out of sight.

When he reaches past Naruto to gift it to him, Sasuke realizes it’s their original Team Seven picture, in the frame he saw sitting on Kakashi’s desk the other day.

His eyes sting as it’s pressed into his hand, thoughts of mask hypervigilance forgotten in an instant in favor of an overwhelming sense of plenary peace and belonging. There is a small inner voice emanating from a house lined with dark wood and darker penchants, gnawing and protesting that he is deeply undeserving, but he extinguishes it for now, just for tonight; the world is not going to end because Kakashi gave him a picture rife with memories. Fighting to remain detached is what got him into trouble in the first place.

Sasuke blinks a few times, and a paper-thin layer of sediment peels away, messy and getting everywhere, like the wrapping paper he tried to collect earlier to avoid a similar problem. Then he utters, “Thank you,” quietly, but loud enough for all three of them to hear.

“No problem. I can get another copy developed from the village archives for my desk,” Kakashi replies, smiling. “It’s good to have you back.”

Time passes somehow both quickly and slowly. The four of them sit there for well over another hour, visiting casually about topics that aren’t as heavy as perplexing poisons. Sasuke moreso listens than genuinely communicates, but he comments every now and then.

Naruto chatters about an elaborate date he’s going to take Hinata on when she gets back to the village, involving feeding ducks at her favorite pond. Sakura mentions that he should bring cinnamon rolls, because that is Hinata’s favorite treat, and Naruto exclaims that he knows, but he also asks Teuchi for a pen to write a reminder on his hand, so he doesn’t forget to pick them up the day after tomorrow when she’s supposed to get back.

Kakashi mentions how he’s supposed to be getting some new mission requests in on Monday morning, so he might have something for Sasuke by then; the dobe is indignant when it doesn’t also include him, and launches into another five minute whining session.

Sakura tells a story about Sai and a misunderstanding involving an order of art supplies that she heard from Ino that morning; apparently, Ino works at the hospital on occasion, both to do some part-time medic duties and to help Sakura, which Sasuke was unaware of. Naruto shudders when Sakura brings up Sai, Ino, and art supplies; Sasuke gets the distinct impression that there is a story there, but doesn’t ask.

It is a little after eight when Kakashi mentions quite astutely that everyone is probably tired and should get going. Naruto laughs mischievously, then, meeting Sasuke’s eyes.

“Teme, what do ya say to all of us going out for a drink or two after this? There’s a fun place just down the road from here.”

Sasuke blinks, because that sounds objectively terrible on any night, let alone a Saturday, and it is not the first time since his return to the village that Naruto has mentioned going to drink; he really wants to get him drunk for some reason. Even though Kakashi has just said they should wrap it up, he looks at Sasuke as if waiting for a response anyways, as though he would actually go with them if they all chose to.

“Can’t. I have plans.”

Naruto huffs and grumbles under his breath about the plans probably involving training or reading or watching his laundry air dry. “Alright, alright. But you can’t escape it forever. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to accept.”

Sasuke smirks, then. “If you can beat me in a spar, I’ll go. Dobe.”

A fire has been lit in blue eyes. “You’re ON.”

Kakashi then sets enough money on the counter for all four of them, at which point they all begin to stand. Sasuke and Sakura both say thank you, but Naruto begins protesting that if he knew he was buying, he would have eaten more. Kakashi smiles cryptically. “Which is why I didn’t tell you. The Hokage position pays lucratively, but I know from experience you’ll eat me out of house and home.”

Naruto and Kakashi wave goodbye and set out to the west, in the general direction of their respective residences. Sasuke and Sakura both watch them go with something like amusement; he can hear Naruto complaining until he’s halfway down the street, which is a feat, because this area of town is still quite busy.

He turns to the gifts and stacks them carefully in preparation to leave, finally; they are all flat, so they’ll be easy enough to carry. They really didn’t need to get him anything... but he is appreciative, gaze lingering on them for a little longer than an instant.

Sakura is smiling at him when he turns to her, weight shifted to the side casually. “Do you want to drop those off first, or bring them with you?”

Sasuke thinks of the time; he still doesn’t know when she usually goes to sleep. “...I can bring them with.”

Her lips quirk upwards more, and she nods. They start walking east, him gripping the gifts carefully.

The moon has risen a bit higher in the sky by now; the streets appear much like a desaturated dreamscape, cloaking everything in a layer of alleviation. They pass under street lights casting flaxen ambiance, as well as other smaller hints of glow from various lit-up signage, tinctorial flashes washing over them both occasionally, only to be rinsed clean as they pass into astronomical dusk again. Sakura’s hair is surprisingly reflectant, brief notes of neons catching atop pale pink: electric blue, candy red, apple green.

“Naruto’s going to hold you to that bet, you know,” Sakura pipes up to his right once they’ve made it a block away, tilting her head upwards, expression soaked with mirth.

“Tch. Don’t remind me.” She laughs a little in response. It’s a lovely sound, dulcet in his ears.

They’re coming up on a bar that appears to be pretty crowded, people spilling out onto the street outside. Wordlessly, they both change course to cross to the other side of the street, avoiding the gathering of people, for which he is appreciative; he’s still not much one for crowds. They’re almost to the main stretch of road where they’ll turn south to go to Sakura’s; just two more blocks and the people should disperse a bit.

As they cross, Sakura informs him, “I’m pretty sure that’s the one he was talking about, by the way.”

“...Great,” He murmurs, frowning. He really doesn’t drink often. A place like that wouldn’t do much to encourage him to.

“It’s not so bad, if you go on a weeknight. Less people.”

He considers, then questions, “...Have you gone drinking with him?”

She averts her eyes, as if she’s a little embarrassed. “A few times... Usually it’s for celebrations, though, not just us. Birthdays, that sort of thing. I’ve gone with Ino more.” She ponders for a bit longer, as if shuffling through memories. “I guess I’ve gone with him and Kakashi-sensei a couple of times, though we don’t always go to that one. Once we went with Tsunade-shishou to that casino.”

Sasuke is pretty sure he knows the answer to his next question, but he asks it anyway. “...Is he any good at gambling?”

A short but rich giggle blooms from her throat that makes his lip twitch upwards. “No. His betting history is just as bad as shishou. He’s worse at baccarat than she is, actually, which is quite an accomplishment. She hadn’t won in a long time, before she beat him.”

It stands to reason that Naruto would be bad at table games, but the fact that he’s bad at arguably one of the easiest ones to learn amuses him more than it should. “...Will probably be awhile before I get dragged with him, then.”

“Probably,” Sakura agrees.

They turn south towards her apartment, and sure enough, the people milling about in the streets begin to thin. Being a Saturday night, there are more lights on than usual around this time, but they’ve arrived into an area of town that doesn’t really cater to a night crowd like bars do; the lit windows here are mostly residential.

Plants are continuing to unfurl everywhere in Konoha, though the rain tomorrow will probably be good for them. It stands to reason that it will get even more lush, after; perennials are starting to bud back to life, soon to join the annuals already adorning most buildings’ exteriors and windowsills. There’s a breeze picking up tonight, too, slightly shuffling leaves and the fabric of awnings attached to the buildings they walk past, a quiescent whispering that seemingly drowns out the usual sound of crickets. It might be cold enough for soup tomorrow; he’s looking forward to it.

Sakura notices, too. “Kakashi was right; everything is greening up. The rain will do some good tomorrow; we haven’t had some in a bit.”

“...Probably,” he echoes her words from earlier. Her hair is fluttering a little in the wind, too, eye-catching and gossamery. Sasuke wonders if it’s still soft like silk. He had accidentally felt it several times, on various missions when they were younger.

They reach her building, and she noiselessly opens the glass door for him. Sasuke steps aside so she can pass after she shuts it behind them. Then he’s following her up the stairway, something like anticipation unfurling in him, much like the greenery he noticed on the way here.

Sakura unlocks her door, glancing back at him for a moment with her hand lingering on the doorknob. Then she turns to push it open, and he trails behind her carefully.

He follows her into a small enclosed area - a dedicated entryway - with a threshold straight ahead leading into the rest of the space. It is dim until Sakura flips on the light of a compact but surprisingly luminous lamp to their right, and he sees that the entryway area itself is painted the color of pale cream. The floor beneath them is aged wood, light in color, that appears to extend into the rest of the dwelling. A single wall-mounted shelf floats to the left that holds several multifarious storage containers: one woven, one white, one that looks like an antiquated rice basket. Out of the top of the last one peeks the well-worn handle of a spade; it must be gardening supplies. Beneath the shelf are hooks studded to the wall; Sakura is stepping towards them to shrug off her bag and hang it from one of them, next to a green jacket and a red and pink coat with fur trim.

There is a console table made of aged wood that near matches the shelf - white oak, he thinks, because it’s not as richly colored as normal oak - to the right. It might be an antique; it is close in color and stain to the flooring, though not an exact match. Her fiction book from the other day sits atop it, a bookmark protruding from around halfway through its pages; he assumes she must keep any non-work-related library books there, when she’s not reading them. Beneath the table is a patterned rug in neutral tones, on which rest a small collection of sandals that are not entirely lined up straight, as well as a pair of green rainboots. It is the only part of the entryway that does not appear overly organized.

Sasuke begins to toe off his sandals as Sakura does, too. She crosses over to the table and opens up one of the drawers, placing her lanyard of keys inside. “You can set your gifts here, if you’d like,” she offers helpfully, gesturing to the table and sounding almost shy, so he does. He turns to grab his sandals and sets them neatly on the rug beneath the table.

She reaches beyond the enclosing wall to the other side, flipping what must be a lightswitch; the rest of the overhead lights in the next area of space flood on. She angles her head back towards him, shifting her weight to the side a little. “I’m afraid it won’t be as long of a tour as Naruto’s.”

It’s small, but cozy. They step into an open space with a wall trailing to the right and openness extending to the left, which houses her living room. The ceilings are high for an apartment this size; it makes it feel bigger. Two towering bookshelves line the west and south walls, and a small dining table sits in front of the window on the north end, over which hangs a simple but worn pendant light, sap green in color; it is reminiscent of the kinds one usually sees at indoor markets. Between the two spaces lies a comfortable-looking sage green couch, classic but also well-worn, placed in front of a small entertainment center. He notices that the furniture pieces are all of slightly different construction, not a matching set, though the colors of everything are very similar to the flooring. On top of the surfaces are various decorative knick knacks: little glass jars in varied colors with dried flowers, another lamp, a candle. The entire open area is painted a pale, pale desaturated viridian; Sasuke likes the color. From what he can see of the room past the expanse of wall to their right, it is painted a different color - linen white.

“Sai and Ino helped me with the paint colors when I moved in.” She pauses. “Well, Sai helped. Ino mostly just helped narrow down color selection. It needed painting anyways; my landlady said I could do pretty much anything as long as it wasn’t black or something.” She walks over to the lamp on the end table by the sofa, and switches it on. Then she wanders over to switch the pendant light over the table on, too.

Sasuke nods, still absorbing. There is an expanse of framed photos to his right, on the space leading up to what must be the kitchen. There are many, leading all the way down the wall, arranged in more of a collage fashion than straight across. He scans them quickly, and is surprised to see that their original Team Seven photo isn't among them. He knows it must be elsewhere in her apartment; she is too sentimental to not have it displayed somewhere. It makes him consider where he’s going to put the one Kakashi has given him.

“The layout is kind of unique,” Sakura continues, walking back towards him through the living room area. “There’s not really room for a dining table in the kitchen, so that table over there-” She motions towards where she just was, in front of the north window, “-is used for that. It’s kind of nice, that way; you can look out the window when you eat.” Sasuke notes upon further inspection that there are a few small plants sitting in the window there, similar coloring to the ones on her doorstep. A thriving jasmine plant is hung higher up, against the glass, fronds twisting downwards. He finds he can picture Sakura eating there easily.

Sakura crosses over into what he assumes is the kitchen; he follows, and notes as he does so that there is a faint aroma of tea, though it is a challenge to place the flavor. It’s simple, but with nice floor to ceiling white cabinetry, aside from a single area in the corner where there is open shelving of the same wood finish, as well as a window on the east wall, over the sink. This one appears to be lined with a small herb garden, more mismatched terracotta pots perched in the windowsill. The countertops here are also wood, in a similar colorway as the rest of the wood he’s seen so far. Most of what’s stored on the open shelving appears to be general dry goods, flour and sugar and oatmeal in clear containers. There is also a fern-colored teapot, decorated with a white floral design, sitting on the end of the shelf for easiest access; she must make tea often. There is a knife set on the counter, as well as a few ceramic containers holding various utensils such as whisks and wooden spoons. Nothing appears out of place, and there are no dishes in the sink; she must keep it pretty tidy. In the only empty corner, there is what he assumes is a pantry door, as well as a small wooden stool. He realizes then that she must not be tall enough to reach the top of the cupboards.

“Sai said keeping it a lighter color would make it look bigger. I think it helps. It’s pretty nice, otherwise.” She glances at him, then away, slightly flushed as if she’s nervous. He realizes, reciprocally, that he is kind of nervous, too, being in her space with her alone.

“Not much left but the hallway,” she adds after a moment, leading him out of the kitchen and further, to a hallway leading east. There are three doors towards the end of it; one to the left, one in the middle, and one to the right. Two of the three are sitting open; the small room straight ahead holds a stacked washer and dryer, as well as cabinets that match the ones in the kitchen. Once he follows her a few more steps, he sees a hamper, as well. The walls appear to be painted a lilac color in the laundry room, slightly darker in hue than the rest of her space thus far. The flooring is different, too, in the laundry room; a white tile, inlaid with a touch of black sparingly in a symmetrical pattern. The style of it is very in tune with the age of the building, reminiscent of an older time.

“Left door is the bedroom.” She gestures towards the closed door, then points to the next one. “Middle is the laundry room; that’s also where I keep any cleaning stuff, like the broom or mop.” She nods then towards the bathroom, so he steps closer to peer inside; it is painted a light sand color, with the same white tile accented with black, only here it also goes halfway up the wall. “And that’s the bathroom.” The same white cabinets appear here, too. It has a tub/shower combination, and a plain white shower curtain. It appears spotlessly clean. A window lies above the sink on the east wall, with another hanging plant dangling in front of it, towards the corner so it’s not in full light all of the time; it looks like a satin pothos. There is also a small wicker stool, on which are folded powder-white towels, and a small glass tabletop lamp, an interesting statement in a bathroom.

He remembers that there are three lamps she’s turned on already. She must not like hard lighting. He tries to resist the urge to smile, because neither does he.

“It’s nice,” he compliments as they make their way back to the living room area. It’s more than nice; he really likes it. Everything about it is as her as he expected it to be, more of a home than an apartment, eclectic combinations painting a picture very indicative of the life she lives here. Sasuke muses that it is especially characteristic of her that she would like different colors throughout the rooms, and that the colors fit their respective spaces well. He finds himself wondering what color she selected for her room, what color she deemed the most calming, though obviously he would never ask.

A deep blush inks it way onto her skin, and she smiles, seeming very pleased. “Thank you, Sasuke-kun.” Her gaze flits away, then back again. “Would you want to maybe watch something? I could make some tea, decaf, if you’d like.”

He nods.

“Okay; I can show you what I have.”

They go back into the kitchen. She opens one of the cabinets, the one nearest the teapot; the entire bottom shelf is filled with packaged tea, labeled jars of loose leaf, sugar, and a container of honey. The shelf above it contains teacups that match the teapot, and more jars of loose leaf, though these ones are labeled caffeine free. There are a few small boxes of packaged tea there, too; she must sort them separately based on caffeine content. The third shelf contains a few miscellaneous mugs and glasses. It’s quite a collection; he understands the mixed aromatics of different tea flavors he noticed earlier. It’s unique, enjoyable without being overwhelming, small hints of sweet spice and citrus drifting into the kitchen space more now that the cabinet door is ajar.

“Most of my packaged teas have more specific flavors, desserts and things like that,” Sakura mentions. “For loose leaf, I’ve got quite a few; caffeine-free ones are oolong, chamomile, lemon ginger, jasmine…” She shifts some of the jars to the side of the middle cabinet to reveal the ones behind it. “Silver needle, white coconut creme, Earl Grey, caramelized pear…”

“...Earl Grey sounds good,” Sasuke murmurs, moving slightly out of the way. She tips her head in acknowledgment before pulling that jar down, then reaching for the teapot.

“I’ll make some; I like Earl Grey at night. Do you want any cream or lemon or anything like that in yours? I have some in the fridge.” She moves to start the water boiling, removing the strainer from the teapot before she fills it. After it’s on the stove, she begins sifting loose leaf from the jar into the strainer so it’s ready.

“...Lemon would be good.” He likes adding lemon to Earl Grey; it makes it more tart. He feels like he should help, so he adds, “I’ll get it. Do you want cream in yours?”

Jade eyes flick to his, and her cheeks color a little. “...Yes. It’s on the top shelf of the door. There’s…” She pauses, as if embarrassed. “There’s normal creamer there too, but I have a coconut milk sweet cream that I like with mine. Just a little bit. It’s… meant for coffee, but…” When he smiles knowingly back, she looks away, back towards the teapot.

He opens the fridge; it’s extremely well-stocked. He doesn’t hover too long before he reaches to grab a lemon and the creamer she mentioned from the door’s upper shelf, but he notes there is a large container of strawberry topping on the top shelf towards the front, as well as a clear container with what may be banana nut muffins. She really does have a sweet tooth, he thinks, amused.

He shuts the door, and she procures a small cutting board from another cupboard and a knife to slice the lemon into wedges. She’s also grabbed two teacups, the ones that match the teapot.

“Thank you.” She’s smiling as he sets down the lemon and the creamer. “I can finish making this, if you want to maybe pick what we watch?”

“...What would you like to watch?”

Sakura blinks. “I’m honestly fine with anything. I’ve got some movies in the cabinet of the entertainment center… Otherwise I have cable to flip through, too.”

She must not go to bed too early, since she mentioned movies. He decides to ask. “...When do you usually go to bed?”

Something in her eyes softens. “Usually ten or eleven. It’s my weekend now, though, so I can stay up late, if you pick something longer.”

He nods, and she turns to slice the lemon halves into quarters, so he pads back to her living room. When he opens the cabinet below the television, he finds it nearly filled to the brim with movies. He settles down to siphon through them, skimming through various synopses. He comes across five or six shoved to the corner of one side haphazardly; those must be the ‘bad’ movies she watches with Ino. The rest of them that he finds sound fairly interesting. He ultimately picks one called A Tale of Archery; the summary makes it sound like a period drama with a twist. As he sits there, he tries to remember the last time he watched a movie; it was probably after he returned to Konoha but before he left for his journey, a rather stupid one with Naruto in his old apartment.

This one should be better. He hopes, brows furrowed, that it’s one she likes; he assumes she must like most of them, given that she owns them.

Sasuke stands with it as Sakura comes out with the tea, cups placed on small plates with dainty teaspoons. “Oh, that’s a good one,” she mentions. His heart flutters, and he feels a little less nervous. He puts it into the player on the next shelf before standing as she sets her plate and cup on her coffee table.

“Thank you,” he says softly when she hands him his, two slices of lemon perched on the side.

She smiles at him, dimple appearing, before grabbing the remote and flicking on the television so it starts setting up. “Do you mind if I shut off the overhead lights? I’m... not much one for hard lighting.”

“Not at all.” The space will be well-lit without it, with the lamps.

He takes a seat on the sofa while she walks over near the entryway. Sasuke realizes now that the couch isn’t terribly big; probably just enough for one person to lie down on, if they wanted to. It’s comfortable, as he’d anticipated. He sets his plate and cup on her coffee table so he can squeeze the lemon wedge into it, grabbing the spoon to stir as the overhead lights go out.

With the lights off, it is very cozy.

Sakura takes a seat next to him, not too close, but not the furthest away she could be, either. She fast forwards through the opening portion of advertisements as he stirs.

By the time he brings the cup to his lips to take a sip, the opening credits are playing. She sets down the remote and stirs her own cup once more, before also taking a sip.

It’s good; flavorful but not too intense, with a hint of bergamot orange rind and maltiness. The lemon gives it a slightly more acidic twist. He’s not much one for creamer, unless he’s in a rare mood on a cold fall or winter day, but he can see how the coconut milk sweet cream would compliment the taste, if one liked sweet things.

“It’s good,” he murmurs, meeting her eyes for a moment.

She glows at the compliment; he can make out a blush in the dim lighting. He feels his own neck heat up.

The movie is pretty good. It tells the story of a bygone feudal era a long time ago, peasants and samurai and daimyos with estates sprawling across countrysides lined with rice paddies. An archer passes away, and his son follows in his footsteps and becomes respected competitively. The twist is that the father actually went into hiding, and returns at the end of the movie.

It’s close to eleven when it’s over. Their teacups sit on her coffee table, long emptied.

Sasuke feels very content, and a little loath to leave, if he’s being honest. She seems slightly tired when she meets his eyes, though, so he slowly stands and reaches for his plate and cup. She does the same, and he trails after her to the kitchen, following her lead; she empties the lemon rinds into the garbage, so he does too. She then rinses her cup clean in the sink, extending her hand for his after.

“...What time should I come over tomorrow?” He asks in a hushed tone, when she turns to him. He’s not sure if the walls are thin or not, and they’re in the kitchen, so it’s not against her neighbors’ unit or anything, but he still somehow feels he should speak quietly; it’s somewhat dark, dimly lit only by cast light from the lamp in the other room.

Her countenance changes to one of consideration. “I was thinking maybe around eleven? I should have lunch ready around then.” Her eyes flicker to his, and her lips curve upwards; he tries not to look at them too long. “If that’s okay.”

He nods. “I’ll be here, then.”

Her lips curve upwards more. “I’ll walk you to the door,” she offers softly. He turns, and she follows.

“Do you like avocado?” She asks him as they shuffle into her entryway, where he stoops to retrieve his shoes. “I was… thinking about making avocado grilled cheese, to go with the soup.”

He glances upwards. “...I do.” He’s never had a grilled cheese sandwich with avocado before, but it sounds like it would taste good. He wonders again what kind of soup she’ll make; she knows his food preferences well, and she hasn’t asked, so it must be something she knows he’ll like. It makes his heart flip behind his ribcage a little.

“Oh, good. I’ll make that, then.” Her eyes drop down to her feet for a second as he rises back to his full height, sandals situated; it’s hard to tell in the lack of light, just the one lamp turned on in here, but he’s pretty sure she’s blushing again.

Her next words are near a whisper. “Thank you for… hanging out.” Multi-faceted jade seeps into him again, seafoam ebbing around dark pupils. He doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of it, after yearning for it for so long. “I had a nice time.”

He takes a quiet step closer to her, heart suddenly twisting in his chest as he tries to swallow his nerves, because she looks so happy, and it’s making his breath get stuck inside his lungs.

“...Me, too,” he whispers, barely audible before his lips brush hers gently.

It feels different, kissing her in the privacy of her apartment rather than on her doorstep. It’s like they can finally take their time, no real chance of interruption. His mind comes up with the word intimate, and his neck warms. Her mouth is all plush affection, bergamot and lemon and a subtle sweetness, stirred, that isn’t too much, accented by berry. It makes him want to try all of the varieties she has in her cabinet, even the sweet ones, just to see what they taste like on her lips in the hours that follow.

Delicate hands brush his shoulders, fingertips skimming the lower part of his neck, subtle beckoning but also gentle, respectful of boundaries, so he decides to corrode, give in and do something that he has wanted to do for a very long time. He cups her cheek with his hand, careful and barely there, gingerly sweeping a thumb over flushed skin, gliding atop a freckle that rests further back on her cheekbone. He’s had it memorized since they were kids.

The strands of pink he inadvertently touches are as soft as he remembers.

Her face is ablaze when they draw back from each other, tender smile and viridescent eyes laced with ardency just for him. Warmth pools in his belly as he studies her, decay long soothed and forgotten as he carefully strokes her cheek once more before he pulls away.

“...Good night, Sakura.”

The dimple makes one last appearance for the evening. “Good night, Sasuke-kun.”

XXX

Sasuke opens the first aid kit upon his return to his apartment, having been curious about what was in it all evening. Vines grasp his heartstrings as he discovers what’s inside.

There are two jars of loose leaf sencha tea that he’s sure came from the tea place they’d visited together a few days ago; one is labeled caffeinated, the other decaffeinated. Along with it is a basic tea infuser, new in its package. There are also three blue packages of cough drops, mentho-lyptus flavor, so they won’t be sweet.

Jade irises, he thinks, are also mollifying, for when the corrosion is done, an aether easily risen into, floating to the top.

Sasuke brews a mug of the jar labeled decaffeinated to enjoy before he goes to bed, a helpful succedaneum with which to conclude an evening well spent. It's not exactly the same shade of green, he thinks, before taking it to his living room so he can look out his window as he savors it, but it's close.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #longest chapter to date lmao #tw: self harm #tw: implied/referenced self-harm

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #74/188

#74: Well. Yell, scream, say something, anything / #188: Say it.

Rated M.

Atlantic City is a calamitous disaster. At least that’s how it starts.

Not because of their case - of course it’s awful, as most of them are. There’s nothing not awful about a duo of killers targeting vacationers during the height of the summer tourist season. Everyone is on edge, it’s hot and cramped, and there isn’t much time before they’ll almost certainly find two more dead bodies in the early morning hours outside one of the many casinos dotting the shoreline. But they’re used to that; it’s practically their daily vernacular at this point, a bit of normalcy in the current chaos between them. The case is the least of Aaron’s concerns, or Emily’s for that matter.

It’s everything but the case this time.

Things go downhill before they even cross the New Jersey state lane. A last minute hydraulic fuel leak on the jet renders air travel a non option. Instead, they get stuck in the same SUV with Reid for company in the backseat for the four hour drive. Aaron almost feels sorry for him, but he’s completely oblivious to the brewing storm inside the confines of the car for the entire first leg of the trip. Reid chatters endlessly, yet neither of them seem to hear a word he’s saying. By the time they hit the Atlantic City Expressway, Emily is all but ready to leap out the window. Hardly any words are exchanged between the two of them at all; they aren’t needed. It’s in her body language and his reticence, the firm clench of his hand on the steering wheel and her weary head resting on a fist, angled as far away from him as possible.

“This is a mess,” Aaron mutters with more than an hour left to go, and he isn’t talking about the thickening traffic. He’s talking about them, and the ending to what never really had as much as a beginning in the first place.

Things spun out of control towards the end. There was a breakup, if it could be considered as much. What they had was never labeled or defined, it just was. It was built on a mistake, nurtured through secrecy and quiet whispers in the dark. It then spiraled into something else entirely, creating an impasse between them during the day that bled into endless nights spent wrapped around one another in beds across the country for almost four full months.

“We can’t do this,” Emily finally said in a darkened hotel room in Seattle exactly 12 days prior to this one. He’d been expecting it, recognized the signs of her pulling away a little more with every kiss he left on her smooth skin, every shudder of her body beneath his and every breathy pant in his ear. There’s nothing tangible left of them, just broken fragments and heavy silence, and every reason why they shouldn’t have ever started this in the first place plays out right before their eyes. “There’s only one way for this to end, you know.”  

There was nothing he could say to talk her out of it as she threw the covers aside, reaching for her clothes on the floor. Aaron offered an “I’m sorry” for good measure yet it didn’t feel like enough, probably because it wasn’t at all. But it’s over, she reminded him as she closed the door firmly, without looking back.

Or so they think.

A mishap at the hotel in Atlantic City leaves the team two rooms short, meaning the team will have to double up for the next few days. JJ is seven months pregnant, which automatically gives her the comfort of her own space, and it goes without saying Dave will get his own too. Reid shuffles his feet and makes eye contact with Morgan, looking slightly relieved when he nods in agreement. That leaves Aaron to concede and Emily to shrug her shoulders indifferently, even if her face is anything but that. The caretaker of the slightly run down hotel  only slightly leers in Emily’s direction as he passes over the two room keys, and Aaron can’t help but step between her and the counter and swipe them both out of the man’s hand with a curt “thanks.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Emily says low enough for only Aaron to hear, snatching the key out of his hand and taking off in the direction of their room. “It’s just a damn key.”

“Did you see the way he stared at you?” Aaron questions with a hint of impatience in his tone as he goes to follow her, but she’s not listening.

“202 is the other way, you know.” The man chuckles with a jab of his finger, as if he’s seen this exact scenario play out many times before - two people disappearing behind a closed door, a disaster waiting to happen. “You two have yourselves a nice stay.” He doesn’t seem to care that just a few moments ago, Aaron’s FBI badge was in his face. He looks almost amused, which only adds to the visible tension between them both.

With an exasperated sigh, Emily turns on her heel and spins in the opposite direction toward their room. “I can’t believe this,” she mutters, staring at the tiny gold numbers on every door until she finds the one they need. Aaron doesn’t miss the way she squares her shoulders, the quick intake of breath as she twists the key in the knob.

The door squeaks on its hinges when she pushes it open; the room smells slightly of mold, but even that isn’t the worst part. The proverbial icing on the cake is when she stops dead in her tracks with him right behind her, shoulders sagging in defeat.

Fuck.

There’s only one bed. It sits in the middle of the damn room, practically mocking them both. Aaron doesn’t miss the subtle glance Emily throws in his direction, searching for his reaction just as he is studying hers. “I’ll take the couch,” he says immediately, keeping his face neutral, setting his bag down on the rickety piece of furniture that has clearly seen better days. “You can take the bed.”

“That hardly qualifies as a couch,” Emily tells him sharply. “That’s a chair, Aaron.”  

She’s right, he thinks in annoyance. It wouldn’t even fit half of him, and staring at it makes his back hurt in anticipation. But sleeping next to her for however many nights they’re here isn’t exactly an option, either.  “I don’t want to make you -”

“Let’s just agree,” Emily says through firmly clenched teeth, making it a done deal. “To be adults about this. We can share a room for a few days without it being an issue. That includes the bed.”

…

They should have known better, but it’s too late for that.

As expected, the rest of the day is exhausting. It only ends because of the promise to look at things with fresh eyes in the morning at the urging of the equally weary Atlantic City police. By the time they make it back to the shabby room, they’re both tired, hot, and cranky, hardly uttering a word after bidding goodnight to everyone else.

“You shower first,” Aaron says as he holds the door open for her, giving her enough space to pass him. “I have to check in on Jack.” He knows her routine once they get back from a case - a shower is always a necessity, and in the better days, they’d always taken turns on first dibs. Or just showered together, which was always his preference.

If she thanks him he doesn’t hear it, and the bathroom door closes behind her, the lock added for good measure. But twenty minutes later - how long does she need in there - he has to avert his eyes when Emily steps out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, the scent of shampoo lingering in her wake. She’s wrapped in one of the hotel issued towels, which is a generous description for the scrap of fabric that barely covers her, awkwardly crossing the room to dig through her suitcase.

Look away, Aaron wills himself, struggling to get comfortable on the tiny couch. It’s a lost cause, and will undoubtedly be a very long night.

There’s a mishap with the towel, a soft curse under her breath as she scrambles before it hits the floor, and an inopportune moment when their eyes meet, succumbing to what they silently agreed would never happen again. It’s how Emily finds herself pinned under his weight, her back pressed against the mattress as Aaron lowers to his knees and dips his head between her legs. Any protest that falls from her lips is short lived, her hands in his hair, her legs curling over his shoulders as he slowly begins to take her apart. Emily arches into him, unable to stifle the moans that are now a constant stream of affirmation, and Aaron doesn’t bother with reminding her the walls are thin. He doesn’t care, and something tells him in the moment he coaxes her climax out of her, neither does she.

“I missed you,” he says when he slides into her to completion a few moments later, giving her a moment to adjust to him before starting to move. He kisses the space between her breasts and Emily all but ignores him, pushing him over onto his back to straddle his hips with a smirk.

The pace she sets is quick, the rhythm fast and rough, and it’s over almost embarrassingly fast. He’s gotten her down against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her as she whimpers into his mouth. Her body is shaking in the aftermath as he thrusts hard once more, holding her against him. For a few quiet moments, the only sound is that of their breathing, a heaviness falling over them both at the realization of what’s just happened. And yet, she stays on his chest, her limbs not quite ready to work, in the comfort of his embrace for a few moments longer.

Afterward, Emily puts as much space as she can between them, which isn’t much given the size of the bed. “If this was your way of not sleeping on the couch,” she says sleepily, her voice muffled by the pillow, “I guess you won.”

...

The next morning, as the sun rises over the shore, Aaron finds her on the balcony, wearing nothing but his undershirt that was abandoned on the floor, the sound of the ocean in the distance. He mumbles something about getting coffee, the first thing that comes to his mind. He knows she (and he) could use some, judging by the minimal amount of sleep they got. Emily doesn’t say a word, just pushes him against the sliding door and drops to her knees. His head falls back against the glass, his hand tightening in her hair as she brings him into her mouth, letting him hit the back of her throat. In between his eyes closing, his hips stuttering against her face, Aaron watches the brilliant mix of orange, yellow, and red fade into daylight, and wonders just how things got to be such a fucking mess in the first place.

They’re two for zero now, and as the day dawns hot and there’s another set of bodies found, it’s abundantly clear no one is leaving Atlantic City anytime soon. And much later that night, they hardly make it to that damn bed before the score becomes three.

…

Aaron wakes up a few hours later from a restless, uncomfortable sleep. The room is stuffy, the pillow underneath his head is flat, the hum of the air conditioner a constant nag even if it does little to cool the room down. Before he opens his eyes, he knows she’s gone. The space beside him is cold - Emily is nowhere to be found, and there’s thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. He dresses in the dark, grabbing his keys, doesn’t bother with an umbrella, and makes the short trek to the boardwalk.

It’s where he would go, and it’s where he finds her, sitting on a bench, her arms folded across her chest, long legs crossed at the knees. She’s ripping at her fingernails, a sure sign something is wrong, and wearing a blank expression that doesn’t change when she slowly turns her head to see him coming right towards her. “I had a feeling you would find me.”

Aaron shrugs, but doesn’t miss the way she flinches when he sits beside her. “Not many places to look. It’s 1 AM, you know.”  

She sniffs with disinterest, continuing to pick at her fingernails.“Why do we keep screwing up?” Emily says after a long pause, and what he sees is like a swift kick to the chest. She looks disappointed with herself, disgusted even. All because of him. “Why can’t I just … quit you?”

“Why do you keep coming back?” He challenges her right back. “If all you’re going to do is walk away again?”

Emily turns her head to stare at him with widened eyes. “We both know the answer to that, Aaron. We both know this was never going to work.”

“No, you decided that. All on your own.” He remembers the night in Seattle as if it were yesterday - the night she left. The sting of her words is still fresh in his mind. “But maybe you’ve already compartmentalized it,” he adds with a bite in his voice that wasn’t there before.

Emily recoils at his words, recrossing her arms over her chest. She rises to her feet, pacing  around the bench.  “What do you want from me, Aaron? What were you expecting when we drunkenly decided to sleep together once? It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“You. I want you. And not just this fuck then forget bullshit,” he says over the growing wind and thunder, the skies threatening to open. In the distance, the ocean churns, the tides crashing against the shore as his anger builds. “I want to be with you,” Aaron adds with a waver in his voice. “Regardless of how this started.”

Emily blinks with confusion and bites her lip, as if holding back tears. She shivers, rubbing her arms, her lip starting to tremble. They can’t. Her silence is an answer in and of itself, one he refused to accept.

“Well?” He demands, the anger rising in his voice, and Emily curses his resolve.

“Well what?”

“Well. Yell, scream, say something, anything,” he snaps, searching her face for a sign of anything besides the emptiness painted across her features. “Don’t just say nothing.”

But Emily indeed says nothing, just regards him with wide, darkened eyes that tell him what he needs to know. In the dark, with only the lights of the boardwalk to cast eerie shadows on her face, she looks almost ethereal, a haunting comparison to the fear he sees. That’s what it is, he thinks. Fear. Fear of what could be, fear of what might never be.

“Say it,” he pleads. “Please, Emily.” The rain starts to fall, coming down relentlessly and soaking them both to the skin almost instantly. “

“Aaron,” she whispers, barely audible over the thunder and now the rain. “It would never work.” She holds up her hands in defeat. “We can’t.”

“What are you so afraid of?” He grabs her by the shoulders, just tightly enough that she can’t duck out of his grasp. Emily squirms uncomfortably but he holds her fast, unwilling to let her go, for if he does, she may never come back. “Why are you so damn afraid of this actually working? Do you have any damn faith?”

She opens her mouth but snaps it shut, her chin trembling with effort. He expects her to slap him, to jerk away and disappear into the night. He’s waiting for her to leave like she did three weeks ago. But she doesn’t. What she does instead surprises the hell out of him. Emily kisses him, slanting her mouth against his in the pouring rain, pressing her rain-soaked body right into his. It takes a full ten seconds before he kisses her back.

It’s a compromise, an agreement to not make a decision one way or the other, at least for the time being. Even so, Aaron envelopes her in his arms, a hand cupped around the back of her head and the other anchored across her shoulders. He kisses her back with an urgency he can only attribute to the fact that he’s in love with her, something he’s known for way too long.

He doesn’t have to tell her that, because somewhere amongst all the doubt, she already knows.

An hour later, after a hot shower (taken together) the score becomes four. And a few hours after that, as the sun rises yet again, nearly blinding them in a cramped Atlantic City hotel room, Emily tentatively agrees to try.

It’s good enough for him.

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron x emily #prompts #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss fanfiction #this made me miss Atlantic City a little bit #I had fun with this one #even if it took awhile to materialize #feral247365

[fanfic-she-wrote]

Imagine being the reincarnation of Dracula's long lost love: part 4

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

You paced back and forth in your room, feeling like a caged animal. You had waited a couple hours to see if Lawrence would change his mind about sending you away, but he hadn't. Usually when you two would have a disagreement it wouldn't take long for him to apologize and act like nothing had happened at all.

You understood why he was so protective. He had debriefed you in London, but now that you had seen Dracula you were certain he wasn't going to harm you.

You had to get out and the only way was from the balcony. Lawrence hadn't thought of that. You were only on the second floor, climbing down shouldn't be a problem you reasoned. You packed a few things in your bag and tossed them over the balcony. Then you heaved yourself over the side and began climbing down the trellis trying to be as quiet as possible not wanting to wake any of the other guests. Suddenly, you lost your footing getting your foot stuck in a vine. "Shit." You swore to yourself, trying desperately to tug your foot away, but the damn vine wouldn't budge.

You took a deep breath and paused for a moment. You looked up and saw a shadow in your room followed by the sound of Van Helsing's voice. "Y/N, I'm sorry." You heard him say. "I shouldn't have acted so irrationally. Please forgive me." You felt a lump form in your throat. You felt bad, but you had to do what you felt was right. "Y/N?"

Oh, no. You started tugging hard at the vine. "C'mon!"

"Y/N?! You heard him call out again. You heard footsteps run out onto the balcony, he had caught on.

"Y/N!! What are you doing?!" He shouted at you from above. Before you could answer, you gave the vine one last hard tug, and at last you were free. But you had lost your grip and you fell down the rest of the way, scraping your arm on a sharp rock as you went. It hurt, but you couldn't allow yourself to stop now.

"Y/N, are you alright?" Van Helsing asked, sounding very worried. Without bothering to answer, you quickly grabbed your bag and ran off towards the forest. You could hear Van Helsing calling after you in the distance. You looked over your shoulder and saw that he was longer on the balcony, but chasing after you. You ran further into the forest, but that didn't stop him. You could hear him getting closer.

"Over here! This way!" Another voice called out, catching your attention. You looked to your left and saw a man with a carriage, waving to you. "Hurry up!" He shouted. With no other choice, you ran over to him.

"Who are you?" You asked, out of breath.

"Doesn't matter. I'm here to help you. Get in!" He said, opening the door for you. You hesitated, unsure whether you should. "Just trust me." The man insisted. You looked behind you once more and saw Van Helsing trailing not too far behind. You caught glimpses of him through the trees. You nodded and climbed inside. Before you had a chance to sit down the carriage had taken off.

"Y/N no! Stop!" You heard Van Helsing shout. You closed your eyes, forcing tears back. "I'm sorry." You mumbled. His voice slowly fading as you got further away.

You leaned your head back against the seat and shut your eyes. You hadn't slept yet and you could feel it creeping up on you. Just a few minutes you promised yourself. A few minutes turned into a couple of hours and when you awoke, the carriage had come to a stop. The door opened and the man from earlier stood there. "We're here." He said, holding his hand out to help you out of the carriage.

"Where?" You ask getting out.

"Castle Dracula."

You look up, and immediately you were stunned at the sight before your eyes, Castle Dracula in all its glory. You made it here at last.

As the man escorted you to the door, you imagined that every ancient stone had a story.

"What's your name?" You ask the man.

"Henry." He replies with a smile. He was a young slender man, pale, with side burns that stuck out from underneath his top hat.

"I'm Y/N." You said introducing yourself.

"I know who you are. My master spoke of you." You could feel a faint blush forming on your face.

"Count Dracula told you about me?"

Henry nodded as he opened the great oak front door. It let out a loud creaking sound as it slowly swung open to reveal the entryway. It was a large empty room with a staircase leading to the upstairs and the dinning hall to the right.

Suddenly, you felt a bit woozy, your vision fading in and out. Henry said something, but you didn't hear him. You tried shaking it off, but it just seemed to get worse.

"What's wrong?" Henry asked, holding you up. You didn't know. This had never happened before. You closed your eyes wishing it would stop, and when you opened them again the room had changed. It wasn't as empty as it was a moment ago and everything was new. The stained glass was clean and the furniture wasnt dusty and worn out. How was this possible? Why were you seeing this?

Then as quickly as the vision came, it went and the room returned back to the way it was, empty and lonely. "You're hurt! Stay here. I'll be right back." He said, helping you to sit down on a nearby chair before quickly leaving the room.

That must have been it. It was the cut that you had gotten earlier. You thought, taking off your coat. Looking at your sleeve you realized you had bled quite a bit.

As you waited for Henry to return you noticed that the sun had slowly started creeping in through the windows lighting up the room making it appear bigger, but not anymore welcoming. Dracula was probably asleep now, unaware of all the blood dripping from your fresh wound. You wondered what he would do.

Henry finally came back with a basin of water and some bandages. "Sorry it took so long. The castle is rather large." He explained.

"Oof, this is some cut." He exclaimed cleaning you up. It stung a little, but you were used to it. You were never the type to stay idle for long. You were always looking for new adventures. All your life you felt restless, never feeling like you belonged anywhere.

"All done." He said putting the basin aside, helping you out of the chair, and guiding you up the large stone steps. He led you down a series of hallways all lined with old paintings. You wondered who these people were. They all seemed unhappy you noticed.

"Here we are." Henry said, coming to a stop and opening the door for you. You walked into a room with a huge four poster bed, possibly the biggest bed you had ever seen. He placed your bag down on the dresser by the window.

"Do you need anything?" He asked.

"Not at the moment. Just some rest." You replied. He tipped his hat and went to leave the room.

"Thank you, Henry. You've been very nice." You said with a small smile.

"Thank you. Sleep well." That you did. You didn't realize how tired you were till your head hit the pillow. Before you knew it you drifted off into a pleasant deep sleep.

(Author's note:) Henry is the ancestor to Johnny Alucard.

#hope you like it! #part 5 coming up soon #dracula x reader #van helsing x reader #hammer dracula #x reader #reader inserts #christopher lee

[poeticandors]

Only For You

Sugar daddy!Cassian x F!reader 

Summary: Being a sugar baby has its rewards, but when the dynamic between both you and Cassian changes after one night, you want to know where it leaves you. Do things change for better or for worse?

Word Count: 5478 

Warnings: 18+ Smut, oral smut (female receiving), fingering, light pussy smacking,  

A/N: Sugar daddy!cassian is on my mind always 😈

GIF belongs to @nomoregoldfish

The light patter of rain hits the window of your bedroom— it’s a soothing sound mixed with the quiet of your room. It was the perfect time to get a start on the book you had been meaning to read. Laying along your bed, your mind is too transfixed as your eyes trail along each word. Mixing with the peaceful ambience, the scented candle whose wick flicks alive as the flame dances helps produce the relaxing scent that completes the tranquility of the room. 

Suddenly, the chime of your phone pulls your attention from the book laid in front of you, and you glance over at it. The way your heartbeat quickens is expected when you see the name on your screen, and you pay no mind as the book closes and you lose your place as you grab your phone. 

Cassian: Are you home? I have a gift for you.

Gift.

You’ve received plenty of those since Cassian appeared in your life. From a weekly “allowance”, to new furniture for your apartment… gift was definitely a funny word in this situation. It was an arrangement you agreed to, well, in a way. 

As you get up to prepare yourself for Cassian’s arrival , your mind goes back to when he came into your life about almost a year ago.

Cassian happened to meet you while you were finishing up a late double at the diner you worked at. He seemed intimidating at first, but was easy to talk to once you poured him his first cup of coffee. You made it a habit to talk to your customers— they seemed to appreciate a friendly smile and small talk— so making conversation with him was easy. 

After introducing yourselves, he asked about you and about your personal life. You weren’t sure why, but you told him pretty much everything: how you were picking up doubles on the weekends just to make ends meet while still going to school full time. He listened intently, as if really interested and concerned. You didn’t think much of it, but then when you saw that he had left you a five hundred dollar tip in cash you were in a state of panic and confusion.

You didn’t know what to do at the time. All that ran through your mind was that it had to have been a mistake and he might’ve meant to leave a ten and… accidentally left the remaining four hundred and ninety. Of course, you did take it but only because you weren’t about to leave all that cash sitting on the table. It definitely had to be a mistake, so the next day after Googling him and finding out that he was a big time businessman, you made your way to his office in hopes of returning the money.

If he was surprised to see you, he didn’t let it show. He gave you a friendly smile, one like he gave you at the diner, and motioned for you to sit down in the seat across from him. He tried to make small talk, asked how you had been, but you went straight to the point and pulled out the cash from your purse. When he stopped you and explained he meant to leave that for you, you were puzzled— no one in their right mind would leave some random waitress this sum of money. Apparently he wanted to. 

And he didn’t want to stop just at that five hundred dollar tip. 

No, he kept coming back to the diner after that incident. But he didn’t leave an atrocious amount for a tip either. Instead, after getting to know you more, he offered you something quite unexpected. He offered a way for you to not have to worry about school or rent or any bills, by simply being his companion. 

In your head, you weren’t sure what he had in mind by “companion”, but when he explained he just wanted someone by his side at company parties, galas, and fundraisers, you were finally able to understand. He was offering a weekly allowance in exchange for being arm candy at such events. 

“So like… you want me to be your sugar baby?” You had teased, only to realize that was exactly what he wanted. 

Cassian didn’t pressure you— he realized how it sounded, someone offering money just for company. He made it perfectly clear that you did not have to sleep with him in any means. There would be no physical contact like that, or any you didn’t want. He simply just wanted to help you out, no strings attached.

After a moment to think you agreed— to both his and your surprise. But you made it clear that you would only stay as his companion until you weren’t at least struggling anymore, which he understood. Seemed easy enough.

Until you got to know more of him, and realized that he was probably one of the kindest people you had ever met. 

Being around him was different then what you thought it was going to be. He only bought you things if he thought you absolutely needed them, such as necessities for your apartment or books for school. Occasionally, at least in his terms, he would buy you random gifts. A few pieces of simple jewelry here and some fancy clothes there— he would also surprise you with a few books you had talked about reading with him. You tried telling him it wasn’t necessary, but he insisted. He always insisted.

Cassian also never left you alone at the events you attended alongside him, and he always made sure that you were comfortable whether it be the situation or the dress he bought you. But you didn’t just attend the galas or events with him. He would continue to visit you at work, or there were a few times he invited you over to eat dinner at his house or just to hang out. The more you spent time with him, however, the closer you became.

You thought you were doing good, keeping your feelings at bay— this was just a simple situation in which he was helping you out. Cassian did not show any advances or try to pressure you in any way, either. Everything was going fine, at least until a few weeks ago. 

It was a normal night, Cassian had asked if you wanted to come over for dinner and maybe watch a movie. You accepted, of course, as you always did. After finishing dinner and resting on the couch with a content stomach, you joined Cassian on the couch. You tried enjoying the movie, it was one of your favorites, but the only thing your eyes drifted to was Cassian’s thigh near yours. 

You tried to play it off that you didn’t notice— he probably didn’t even realize it in the first place. Plus, you didn’t really mind. It was a nice added bit of warmth since the room was slightly chilly. No… you didn’t really mind. 

But when a particularly funny scene played on the screen, you happened to let out a laugh and when you turned to Cassian, you noticed the way he was staring at you. His dark eyes bore into yours in a way they hadn’t before, and you would have given anything to know what was going through his mind in that moment. And the next thing that happened, you remember so clearly to this day: the way his eyes trailed down to your lips and how for a moment you could see how he was leaning towards you, and you wanted nothing more than his lips upon yours. 

When his phone rang, he made sure to pull back as if you had both been walked in on, and he was quick to get up and answer his phone. You’ll never forget the way your heart beat uncontrollably, and how cold your thigh—how cold your entire body— suddenly felt as you realized… you’ve wanted this for a while. 

Your phone beeps again and that’s when you pull yourself from your thoughts, seeing Cassian had messaged you again.

Cassian: I hope you’ll like what I have for you.

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you reply.

I’m sure I will, and yes I am home.

Cassian: Can’t wait to see you.

It was a little ridiculous the way you felt by just a simple text— the fact he said he couldn’t wait to see you had the warmth in your chest bursting like a chain of fireworks. You knew holding these feelings in would only make it more difficult, and you had to believe he felt something for you as well. Things between you had become different, not only had you begun to spend more time together, but the looks and small touches became more frequent. 

You had thought long and hard about this, and you believed that he had to feel the same way you did as your relationship slowly blossomed. Maybe taking the first step was what you needed to do. 

Standing up, you decide that you need to ready yourself by refreshing with a shower and a change of apparel. You already had the perfect set in mind that was sure to say how you felt without you having to say anything.

++++++

Cassian looks down at the simple red rose— the petals seemingly perfect in every way, bursting with immaculate color along with the strong stem to hold it all together. It was beautiful, but he knew it would only come second to you the moment it was in your presence. 

He wondered if he was making a mistake, admitting how he felt about you. Not that he didn’t want to express how he felt, but rather he didn’t want to scare you off. All of this started off as an arrangement, one you both agreed would come without any sexual favors, and was simply about companionship. 

That however went all the way down the drain after one particular movie night. 

Obviously nothing physically happened, but god knows Cassian wanted nothing more than to feel your lips on his and feel how soft your skin was. How was it he didn’t know until that moment that he longed for your touch? Not only that, but he longed to hear you say his name as it was now his favorite sound— a melody he wanted to play over and over again.

If he admitted his feelings, how would things change between you? Would it complicate things? Of course, he was the one to come up with the arrangement, and he did tell you that you could back out any time you wanted to. 

But if you felt the same way, would you still want to keep up the agreement? You would never once demand the weekly allowance he was giving you. If anything, you seemed to want to do was try and limit it to at least every two weeks or once a month, but Cassian never minded. This was all about helping you be able to live comfortably without any worries for the time being. 

The elevator dings as it makes its way to your level, and Cassian straightens, before making his way to your apartment door, knocking and waiting patiently. There would be time to figure out what would happen afterwards, now it was time for him to face the truth— whether it ended either with heartache or delight. 

“Come in,” he hears your voice on the other side of the door. Cassian wastes no time, holding the single rose behind his back as he steps inside. 

It’s quiet, Cassian wondered if he interrupted anything in particular as he didn’t see you in the living room. He calls out your name, but stops when he turns to see you sitting on the counter in the kitchen. Not only that, but you’re wearing a simple black robe and matching color heels with red bottoms underneath. You made sure to have the robe revealing much of your chest, and Cassian swore you were leaning forward so he could catch a better glimpse of your cleavage. 

“...Hi.”

“Hi…” Cassian steps forward. “What… what’s going on?”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth— scared that you may have made the wrong choice in displaying your feelings. But it was too late to turn back.

”I… there’s something I need to talk to you about.” Jumping down from the counter, you slowly walk up to Cassian. He stays in place, and when you glance down you take notice of the beautiful red rose in his hand. 

“...Is there?”

“Yes. Something important— sorry. Is that the gift you bought for me?”

“It is.” Cassian holds the rose up to you. “I just… I saw it and thought of you. I thought that you might like it.”

You take it from him slowly, admiring each vibrant petal on the flower. He saw this and thought of you— your heart pounds loud and quick like a drum, imagining the idea of Cassian looking through flowers and thinking of you as he laid his eyes on such a gorgeous flower. 

“...Thank you.” 

He nods, clearing his throat. “You said you had something important to talk about?”

“Yes, um…” you hand him back the rose and he watches you with interest as you slowly pull the tie from your robe. Letting it fall, the robe pools at your feet, and Cassian stares at you. 

His eyes trail along your body— taking in every inch of you as you stand in front of him wearing a simple black lingerie set. You watch as he slowly makes his way up, from the garter belt around your thighs, to the lace thong, all the way up to the black sheer baby doll top. 

You only wonder what’s going through his mind, if you have taken it too far or if it was just the right push to say what you’ve held in for so long.

“...I bought this with my own money.” You finally say, and Cassian’s gaze lifts to your eyes. “I… I saw it and I thought you might like it. I just didn’t know how else to… I thought that by showing you, it would be easier to… to explain how I feel.”

Something seems to click in Cassian’s mind— his eyes light up in realization and he nods. He takes a few steps towards you, backing you into the counter. He reaches behind you to set the rose down. 

“And… how do you feel?” He asks, his voice deep and you can’t help the way it sends a shiver down your spine. Taking a daring breath, you place your hands on his chest, feeling the soft material of his dress shirt.

“You know I’m not good with my words, but… can I show you?” 

He nods, and you lean forward, pressing your lips softly to his. Cassian is quick to return the kiss— his tongue glides against your lips as he deepens it, so eager to express how he feels as well. You feel his hands on your hips, and he pulls you closer so your chest is now pressed against his. 

Your body is so warm, like a fire bursting throughout out after igniting it with that single kiss. When you pull back, that feeling is still there after just staring into his dark eyes. 

“...How long?” He breathes out, and you know exactly what he’s asking.

“Since movie night. But… I suspect even before then.” 

Cassian nods, sliding his hands to the middle of your back. You don’t want him to stop touching you, and you suspect he doesn’t want to stop either. 

“...I know we still have the agreement, but—“

“Shh…” He shakes his head. “We don’t have to talk about that now.”

“But—“

“I have a gorgeous woman standing in front of me, right now. One that I wasn’t sure shared the same feelings. I’m not wasting anymore time.”

With that, he pulls you close, and kisses you again. Your hands are everywhere— on his chest, moving up to his neck, until you’re grabbing his face to deepen the kiss. His shoulders roll back as he takes his jacket off, and soon he is back to grabbing your hips and helping you onto the counter. 

The motion is fast and quick, and he stands between your legs as he trails his kisses from your jaw down to the middle of your chest. His hands are flat on your thighs, but you feel the pads of his fingertips digging into your flesh. When he slides his hands up, they are now closer to your aching cunt, and you don’t want him to stop inching closer. 

You’ve dreamt of this— feeling Cassian between your legs, his hands gripping you to keep you in place. It’s all finally coming true, and you only want to feel and taste more of him. 

He pulls back after sucking on your neck, and you slam your lips back on his. You begin undoing his buttons, but he grabs your wrists and pins them down. He steps back, and you stare at him with lust-filled eyes as he slowly begins to unbutton his shirt.

“Look at you,” his demeanor is suddenly different— his voice deeper and laced with a hunger for you. He tosses his shirt to the floor and makes his way back, pushing your thighs apart. “So impatient.”

“Cass…” you gasp as he pulls you closer to the edge of the counter, and begins to continue kissing his way down until he is on his knees in front of you. 

He looks up at you, as his hands slide further up your thighs once more, until his fingers start brushing your covered clit. You’re already soaked even by the simple touches, and you don’t want him to stop. You watch Cassian lean forward, and his nose carefully hovers against yours until you catch your breath. 

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought of this,” he mutters. “How many nights I’ve dreamt of you in this position.”

He flicks his tongue flat against your covered pussy lips and you can’t help the small whimper that escapes you. He looks up at you, sliding his arm underneath your thigh and around to pull your underwear out of the way to expose your glistening folds. He licks his lips, waiting to taste just how sweet you are. You watch as Cassian delves in, and your head falls back as you moan in pleasure at the feeling of his tongue.

Cassian groans as well, taking in every bit of your sweet slick. You tasted divine— as sweet as honey— and Cassian was lucky enough to be the one to taste you. Your hand moves to the back of his head, your fingers tangling with his perfectly combed hair as you try pulling him even closer. 

Cassian pulls back, but not before taking his tongue flat and slow against your cunt, and he rips off your underwear. Gasping, you watch as Cassian returns between your legs, and looks up at you as his hand comes up to rub slow circles on your sensitive clit. Biting your bottom lip, you stare into Cassian’s eyes as he touches you— a sensual image that only edges him more. 

A jolt of pleasure goes through you as he gently slaps your cunt, and you can’t help but jump. Cassian holds you down so your movements are slightly stilled. He goes back to rubbing slow circles, before once again slapping his hand down. 

“F-fuck, Cassian,” you whimper. “Please—“

Smack, he slaps your pussy again, this time with a little more force, and you feel as if you’re about to burst. 

“Tell me what you want. You’re all dressed up in this outfit for a reason. Tell me.” 

He wants you to beg, and fuck if it wasn’t the hottest thing. You knew Cassian was always one to take charge, but the fact that he was being this way for you has you thirsting for more. 

“I want to cum… please, Cassian. I want to cum so bad…”

Cassian hums, before he slaps his hand down again. A small cry catches in the back of your throat, and your nails grip into the edge of the counter as he goes back to rubbing your clit. The pace he moves at is excruciating, you just want to feel that release, but Cassian is going to make sure it’s on his terms. 

“I’m not quite convinced,” he says, moving his fingers down, and teasing the entrance of your pussy. You try pushing your hips forward, but this earns another good, wet slap from him. 

You cry out once more, and he moves his fingers back, teasing your folds. 

“Tell me. What do you want?” 

Your mind is a mess— you can barely focus as Cassian continues to tease you, and all words are non existent at this point. Suddenly, as an act of encouragement, Cassian pushes a finger in and you let out a moan. He doesn’t move it, and although you try rolling your hips it’s no use: he watches you as you sit desperately, waiting for him to do something.

“What. Do. You. Want?” He asks between small, feather-light kisses against your thighs. 

“Cassian, fuck! I want you to make me cum. I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk anymore. Please!”

His mouth turns up into a devil-like smirk, and he stands up to press his lips hard to yours. His lips carry the faint taste of your slick, but you don’t mind. If anything, it turns you on even more.

“Okay, since you asked so nicely.” When he moves his fingers, you let out a relieved gasp, and he suddenly moves back down to his knees.

Cassian wastes no time in pushing his mouth back to your clit, and you throw your head back as his tongue flicks against you. With every roll of his tongue, and pump of his fingers, you feel yourself slowly reaching that euphoric bliss and in no time, you're coming all over Cassian’s mouth and fingers as you cry out his name. 

Cassian doesn’t let you off easy, when he removes his fingers, he wastes no time in gently slapping your pussy as you still try coming down from your high. Each slap has you twitching with more pleasure, and he helps you ride it out until you’re left an absolute mess. 

When you open your eyes as you catch your breath, you’re still in a daze. Cassian stands up, and you watch as he takes each of his fingers to suck your slick off of them, like it’s a sweet treat for him. The sight has you clenching your thighs together, and Cassian takes notice, stepping towards you. 

“Come here,” he cups the back of your head, kissing you hard as he pulls you off the counter to stand. 

He tilts his head, dragging his hands down to graze against your breasts, trailing all the way to your hips. Biting your bottom lip as he pulls away, he quickly turns you to face away from him, and pushes you to lean over the counter. 

The feeling that flows through you is exhilarating— you’re more than ready to feel Cassian fuck you. The sound of his belt as he pulls it off and the way he slowly pulls his zipper down has you shifting in your spot. Soon, you feel his hands on your hips again, and he trails down to your thighs.

Snap, he pulls the strap connecting to your garter and watches you flinch slightly at the contact. Cassian soon presses up against you, his hard cock poking against your ass cheek as he leans down to kiss the back of your neck. His hand comes up from the garter and soon brushes against your wet folds, and you exhale shakily as you lick your lips. You just know the bastard is smirking now, watching every movement you make as he teases you. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He whispers— his voice deep and thick as he slowly moves his fingers up and down at an excruciatingly slow pace, making sure to purposefully brush just under your clit.

“Yes. Yes, please, Cassian,” you whimper, pushing back against his cock. 

He hums, and although you let out a whine when he pulls his hand away, your eagerness soon shows as he pushes your legs apart with his knee and you stick your ass out. 

Cassian drags a hand flat along your back as he positions behind you, and you feel the head of his dick push into your cunt. You both seem to let out a breath of relief— the feeling of you finally coming together like this was one long awaited from each of you. 

Cassian slowly pulls out, only to slowly push himself back into you, earning a quiet moan from you. You’re left with your fingers trying to grasp onto the smooth granite counter, but it’s no use. With every motion, you’re left with a dizzy spell taking over you. 

You feel Cassian’s hands grip onto your hips as he speeds up, thrusting even harder than before. He feels so good, even better than you’ve imagined. His cock brushes hard and deep inside you, trying to pull your orgasm from you. The rough pads of his fingers dig into your skin, as he pulls your hips against his with each thrust. 

The room fills with moans and grunts coming from both of you— skin slapping skin, it was an erotic sound. You feel Cassian’s hand move up to grab onto your neck, squeezing lightly as he leans forward until his chest is pressed against your back.  The new angle has him hitting your burning core, and you only cry out his name over and over. Your body presses hard uncomfortably against the edge of the counter, but you don’t care— you just want to feel nothing but Cassian at this moment.

“Does this make you feel good?” He growls, turning to nip at your ear. “Do you like when I fuck you like this?”

“Yes, f-fuck… Cassian!” You all but scream. You don’t even care if your neighbors can hear you because he is making you feel so fucking good.

“Is this what you’ve thought about?” He asks after a hard rock of his hips. “Because I’ve thought about this. I’ve thought about fucking you so many times. In your bed, in my bed… on my couch that night.” 

He lets out a moan, his breath hitting your skin, and you wonder if he is close behind you. With every push and pull of his dick as it hits that sweet spot inside of you, you’re sure to be coming all over him soon enough. 

“Cassian, please… I’m so close.” 

“Are you?” He hums. “Are you going to cum all over my cock? Because that’s what I want, too. I want to feel you squirt all over me.”

The words coming out of Cassian’s mouth only urges you on more— never did you think such filthy things could be said to you, and never did you think that such things could have an effect on you like they are now. He continues whispering things in your ears, come on and that’s it as his hand reaches around and starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. With his dick pumping in and out of you mixed with that, the sensation is too much, and soon you’re tightening around him as your orgasm hits you hard. 

White clouds your vision, and you’re not even sure what Cassian is saying to you now because the rest of your senses seem nonexistent. He helps you ride it out, still continuing his pace so as to reach his own high. The room fills with your moans and the filthy, demanding words of Cassian edging you on. Cassian curses behind you, and with one last thrust, he pulls out. 

Looking over your shoulder is a sight to behold— Cassian pumping his dick with his hand as he grips your hip with the other. He looks so beautiful coming undone like this, you think. You watch as he bites his bottom lip, holding back a moan as ribbons of cum shoot out onto your ass, and you can feel the beads drip down your ass, to your cunt and legs. 

His head falls forward, and he pants heavily, trying to catch his breath. You slowly turn to face him, and he lifts his gaze. It’s quiet now— the room that was once filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin and cries of pleasure now sits silent. 

Your name comes out as a whisper from his lips, and before he can say anything more, you press yours to his in a quick, passionate movement as you kiss him. Cassian pulls you to his chest, deepening the kiss— like you, he didn’t need words to express how he felt — and in that moment his touch spoke clear revelations.

When you both pull apart, breaking the kiss, you stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, until finally one of you finds the courage to speak.

“This changes things,” Cassian states. Which, of course, he is right. But in terms of how…

“I don’t care. I just want you, Cassian.”

He stares down at you as you reach up and cup his cheek. It’s a comforting concept, and he leans into your touch, and you revel at the simple movement. 

“I don’t care about the arrangement anymore. I never… never really was in it for the money. You have helped me in a way that… well, I’ll forever be grateful for you helping me with my loans and rent. And I loved the gifts, don’t get me wrong. But all I cared about and actually enjoyed was just being around you. Spending time with you.” 

HIs hand comes up to grab yours, and for a moment you see a sense of relief in his eyes— as if he had been waiting to hear that from you for quite some time. 

“I think…” he starts, pulling your hand down to kiss your knuckles, “I only offered it just to be able to spend time with you. I also enjoyed it, presenting you with gifts and helping you financially. But, I knew things would change between us since that night.”

His thumb brushes the back of your hand, and you glance down to the rose on the counter. Grabbing it, you bring it up to your nose, the wonderful scent taking over your sense of smell. Your eyes flicker up to his, and you give him a small smile.

“I think this is probably my favorite gift from you.”

Cassian smiles, a soft, tender one as he tilts your chin up, and presses a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. You pull back, and the smile you gave him does not falter as you stare up at him. 

“I want to be with you, Cassian. Which means... I have my own arrangement.” “That so?” His brow raises, intrigued as you set the rose back down. “You’re making demands with a businessman, now?”

“I sure am. First off, I don’t want to be your sugar baby anymore.” He chuckles, amused. “Because of your help, I am already ahead of payments, which means I can handle them on my own.”

“Alright, fair enough. Anything else?”

“The gifts—”

“Hold on. I still want to give you gifts. There’s no getting out of that.”

“Cass—”

“Isn’t that what significant others do for each other? They spoil their partners.” He kisses your temple. 

“Fine… I have one more demand.”

“Which is?”

You take a step back, grabbing his hand. “I want you to join me in the shower. I believe we both need one.” 

He smiles, and you don’t believe you’d ever get tired of seeing the simple act. “Okay, but first…”

Cassian pulls you close, and delivers one more kiss to your lips— one that seems to hold a different meaning now. And then he pulls away, following you to the shower, where you soon fell together again as your bodies slid against each other as the water dripped over you both, and your moans echoed against the walls. 

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor #cassian andor x f!reader #sugar daddy!cassian #sugar daddy!cassian andor x reader #diego luna

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Twenty-Four: And the Rest is Silence

And this is it: the final chapter! It’s been insane, but this is the only fanfiction I've ever finished before, and it wouldn’t have happened without all the support. Thank you so much!! I didn’t think anyone would read this, but seeing everyone’s reactions to each chapter has kept me going :D

I’m sorry for the essay, but I’m aware I didn’t post anything about this in the AIB tag. Yes, there will be a sequel!

I need to read the manga properly before writing it, so I don’t know when the sequel will start. But in the meantime, there’ll be a series of Chishiya one-shots of his perspective, and there’ll even be scenes that weren’t in this fic, plus an original game!

For the full fanfic, you can find it here on AO3. 

I’ll also be creating a master list, and I'll post the literature references after this for those who wanted them <3

Once again, thank you so much!! And I hope you enjoy this last chapter. 

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

By the time Kuina found us again, it was already late afternoon, and even though our visas had extended by ten days after the Witch Hunt game, there was something about the setting of the sun that felt foreboding.

We lit up the furniture shop with candles and changed into the clean clothes we’d collected. Seeing Chishiya wearing ordinary clothes felt strange. Aside from when we’d crossed paths in the Tag game, the entire time I’d known him he’d been wearing swim shorts and flip flops.

Now, he emerged from the bathroom wearing grey sweatpants and a variegated blue cardigan that suited him perfectly. When his eyes flickered to mine, I realised I’d been staring, and distracted myself with preparing dinner instead. It wasn’t much, especially since all I had was canned goods and a camping stove, but the vegetable stew kept us warm while we curled up in our makeshift living room. As evening turned to night, however, it became obvious that something was missing.

There are no games.

Kuina chewed on her lip, looking out of the window. ‘What d’you think will happen when our visas run out?’

‘It probably has something to do with the Ten of Hearts,’ I told her. ‘Maybe there’s no need for games anymore, since we’ve got all the numbered cards.’

It didn’t bode well for us. If there were no games by the time our visas ran out, there was no chance of us getting out of the Borderlands. At least not alive.

As the night wore on, Kuina was the first to go upstairs. Covering her yawn with her hand, she waved goodnight and winked at me. I tried not to blush. Not that it made a difference, anyway. Chishiya was busying himself over a scrap of paper, and barely reacted when I smushed up by his side.

I frowned at the paper in his hand. ‘Isn’t that...’

‘Ah.’ He held it out so I could see it. ‘I took it from the tagger’s pocket.’ It was a drawing of a circle with squiggly lines, clearly a rushed sketch of something. In the middle of a line, the pen had stabbed a hole straight through.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, I have an idea,’ he said, but never elaborated.

Fighting the onset of sleep, I leaned my head against his shoulder, paying no mind to the way he tensed beneath me. The fabric of his cardigan was soft as down and made for a perfect pillow. ‘Aren’t you going to tell me?’

‘And if I don’t want to?’

I pushed my face into the fabric, pretending to settle in for the night. ‘Then I’ll just stay here and annoy you until your visa runs out.’

‘I have a feeling that won’t happen any time soon,’ he said, looking out the window.

And that was when I noticed it too. Midnight had passed by only a few minutes ago, yet there were no lasers. Did that mean the Borderlands were at a standstill? Were we stuck here permanently now? I wasn’t aware of how silent I had become, lost in my own thoughts, until Chishiya spoke up.

‘I believe it’s a map.’

My eyes slid to the drawing again. ‘And that hole in the paper, do you think that’s where the others are? The dealers, I mean.’

He shifted uncomfortably and I sat upright, conscious that I might have been unintentionally hurting or bothering him. Looking at the map properly, the lines could represent different interlocking pathways. If the marked place was a hideout of some kind, it couldn’t be in the open streets; there was too big a risk that a player might stumble upon it by accident.

So where...?

As soon as the idea came to mind, the words slipped out of my mouth. ‘The subway....’

He hummed in agreement. ‘I went to the nearest subway station this morning to check it against the real map. It’s a loose fit, but it works.’

I thought back to the second tagger – the crying woman – and how she’d been forced to participate in the game, donning an explosive collar. ‘Maybe if we find the place, we’ll get some answers.’

‘Probably,’ he said. ‘But I’m curious to see if anything changes within the next few days.’

‘Do you think we’ll hear something soon?’ I asked, yawning into my hand.

‘I believe we will.’ He gave me that same half-smile I had grown so used to. ‘But right now, I think you should go to sleep.’

Chishiya didn’t complain when I crawled into his bed. Like the night before, he kept his distance, but I could’ve sworn at times, when my sleeping became lighter throughout the night, I could feel fingers lightly touching my hair, only to pull back the moment I stirred. Over the next few days, it became the norm, and every night I would curl up on my side of the bed, slipping into calm dreams under the blue light of the window.

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

Despite the sunshine washing over the grey of the city, the stairs leading into Minami-Aoyama station descended into darkness. We’d checked and double-checked the drawing against the official subway map several times, but the idea of entering an abandoned station to uncover who knows what wasn’t inviting.

‘Are you sure this is it?’ Kuina asked for the third time.

I looked at the route map hanging over the station entrance, my eyes tracing the shape of the lines. ‘Positive.’

Folding her arms, Kuina went first. I waited for Chishiya to take a small torch from his pocket before following behind. The station was truly submerged in blackness, and if not for Chishiya’s torch, we would have easily become lost. He shone the beam at the paper in his hand, then held it up against each train line.

‘This way,’ he said, and walked towards the edge of the platform.

We hopped down onto the gravel below, using the metal tracks to guide us further into the tunnels. It was disconcerting to see the subway so empty, but with Kuina and Chishiya here, I felt safe somehow.

Several minutes in, Chishiya stopped abruptly, and I almost walked into him. If he reacted at all, I couldn’t see to tell. But he seemed more focused on something else, as he pointed the torch at a door that had been busted open.

‘That must be it.’ Kuina’s voice echoed.  

Without hesitation, Chishiya disappeared through the door, leaving Kuina and I in the darkness.

Chishiya?!

I panicked, arms waving as I tried to find something to hold onto. I heard Kuina hiss as we stumbled into each other and bumped elbows. Feeling around for the door frame, we managed to make our way inside, where Chishiya held his torch at us from further away.

‘Hey!’ Kuina snapped. ‘Don’t do that again! You’re the only one with a light here.’

‘Walk faster then,’ he said, waiting impatiently as we jogged over.

He shone the beam in the opposite direction, where it bounced off something. It was still too dark to tell just what, but as we walked forwards, everything became clearer. A structure lay ahead, with tunnels and walkways all leading into a giant room. Overhead, wires were strung across the ceiling, all feeding into the same place. We entered through one of the tunnels, and my heart jumped.

Televisions. They stared, black and empty, in rows and columns up the walls. But what was even more surprising was the setup right in front of us. It was an office, with papers, pen pots and coffee-stained mugs strewn about on desks. It would have looked like any other workplace, if not for the bodies draped in chairs and across the floor.

‘What... is this?’ I crouched to inspect the body of a man in a suit. Judging from its state, he had only died recently, but more importantly, there was a singed hole running through his head. He had been killed by a laser. ‘They’re not the ones in charge of the games.’

Chishiya closely inspected a desk. ‘Evidently not,’ he said, picking up a folded piece of paper and passing it to me. It was filled with numbers, some ticked off. Whoever it had belonged to was keeping track of their visa.

They’re playing games too, I thought. Or at least, they were.

‘So, these guys were the dealers.’ Kuina gingerly held up a sheet of paper with scribbles all over it. Upon closer inspection, they appeared to be odds. ‘They were betting on us,’ she said.  

A shiver ran along my skin. Of course, they had been watching us this whole time, that was expected. But to place bets on our survival was a whole other story. If the dealers were playing too, there must’ve been a separate system for them to extend their days. Perhaps how many people survived each game had some kind of impact on their visas.

A finger lightly brushed the back of my arm and Chishiya appeared beside me. ‘Momoka’s friend,’ I said, ‘she died right after she told everyone she was a dealer. And the taggers died because we won. I have a feeling their visas depended on whether or not we cleared each game... or maybe how many people didn’t make it.’

From his expression, I knew he had been thinking the same thing. ‘It doesn’t explain why they’re all dead now.’

I glanced around at the stiffened bodies slumped around us. ‘Actually, I have a bad feeling about that too.’

At that moment, a tap of footsteps echoed from the entrance. Chishiya instantly turned off his torch and tugged me into one of the tunnels. Kuina joined us and we hid, waiting. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and two torchlights waved through the darkness. I kept my eyes trained on the tunnel opposite as the footsteps paused.

‘Where is this place?’  

‘Who knows?’

With a sigh, I relaxed instantly.

Those two.

It had only been a few days since I had made peace with Arisu and Usagi, but I was glad to see them again. Arisu was cleaned up, his wounds well on the way to healing, while Usagi stared in amazement at the television screens around us.

Chishiya grazed past me as he moved out from under the shadows. ‘You actually found this place,’ he said. ‘As expected from someone I have high hopes for.’  

‘We meet again,’ Kuina said, walking around the desks to lean against the wall.

Arisu and Usagi’s eyes scanned the two of them before stopping at me. They looked visibly confused, probably wondering what I was doing with them after I’d told them I wasn’t involved in Chishiya’s setup. In an attempt at diffusing the awkwardness, I smiled and waved.

‘You guys,’ Usagi whispered. Her voice bordered on distrust, not that anyone could blame her.

I couldn’t tell whether Chishiya was trying to make things better or worse when he held up the full deck of cards and smiled. ‘Thanks to you guys, I have all the playing cards with me,’ he said. ‘Thank you.’

Arisu only looked at him cynically. ‘How did you discover this place?’

Chishiya rooted in his pocket and pulled out the drawing. ‘It took me some time to realise this is actually a map. The route map of the subway.’ He sauntered around the desks. ‘As for what happens when we collect the cards... I thought I would know the answer if I came here.’ His eyes jumped to mine. ‘But there’s something else we discovered instead.’

‘They’re not the gamemasters,’ Arisu said, eyes fixed on the bodies around us.

I stepped over a hand strewn across the floor. ‘カードを集めたので、殺された.’ Because we collected the cards, they were all killed. I struggled for a moment, trying to think of the right words. ‘There must be someone above them.’

Chishiya translated, and Usagi turned to me with worry. ‘But who?’

‘Who knows?’ Chishiya shrugged. ‘They might be aliens... or even God.’

The idea didn’t sound as strange as it should have done. We were in a world where lasers appeared from the sky, and death games were the norm. Even when I first arrived here, I’d wondered whether this was a form of judgement. Nothing was out of the question anymore.

Suddenly, the screens burst into life and white light flooded the room. I jumped, flocking to Chishiya and Kuina’s side.

Have we been caught?

Music reverberated all around us, and the screens displayed all four card suits, along with a message I couldn’t read. It didn’t matter though, as the voice that rang through the speakers was one I remembered well. My stomach dropped.

‘Congratulations to all players!’

The screens blurred until Mira’s wild eyes and subdued smile came into focus. It was now obvious why the Ten of Hearts had taken place at the Beach at the very moment things had fallen apart.

She must’ve been feeding information back, I thought. But back to where?

‘How interesting,’ Chishiya said. Seeking stability, I slipped a hand into his pocket. There was a slight hesitation before his fingers laced around mine.

Mira’s voice shook with a quiet excitement. ‘With the exception of the face cards, you’ve all cleared the numbered games and emerged as victors. It’s a sweet victory, gained by sacrificing so many lives.’ Her expression turned wistful as she stood. ‘I wonder, how many of your comrades have died. Try remembering those who were shot dead with guns.’

A single screen switched to show footage from a miscellaneous game. A group were stood, clutching their guns as they inspected the scatter of bodies across the ground.

They’ve been recording us.

‘And that girl you burned alive.’

A second display opened up, revealing several players watching on as a girl, engulfed in flames, struggled and clawed at her skin and clothes. I held my breath, Niragi’s animalistic cries ringing through my memory.

‘Those struck by lasers, and those that drowned.’

My eyes widened, and I gripped Chishiya’s hand as the inside of the furniture store appeared on-screen. The fractured image of myself flinched, quivering with shock, as the first man and Green Shirt leapt from their seats, only to crumple to the ground, lasers piercing them where they stood.

Chishiya’s fingers squeezed mine, and I gasped, blinking away the image. He must’ve seen it too.

‘Those who’s heads were blown off,’ Mira continued, dreamily. ‘Those comrades of yours, the despair you’ve felt so far, and those dying moments you’ll never forget.’

The screen changed once more, and from the corner of my eye, Arisu winced. Following his gaze, I recognized his partner from the Tag game, his neck exploding around a collar.

I’m so sorry....

Meanwhile, Mira’s expression shifted into pure, childlike delight. ‘Everyone... I’m so touched!’ She held her hand over her heart. ‘All of you players, we’d like to give you a present.’

We?

Chishiya tensed slightly. He had noticed it too. If Mira wasn’t the only gamemaster, just who were the others?

Although Mira couldn’t hear us, Kuina mumbled, ‘Are you returning us to the real world?’

It seemed too good to be true, and sure enough, it was. Mira clapped her hands together excitedly. ‘There will be new games! Let’s play more games together and fight for the face cards this time!’

Aside from Chishiya, everyone sank with disappointment and fear. Just how much more would we have to deal with before we could go home? If we were competing for the face cards, did that mean there were only twelve more games in total, or would there be repeat cards like there were for the numbered ones?

Kuina groaned. ‘New games? You’re kidding.’

‘I don’t dislike the idea,’ Chishiya murmured.

I looked at him, curious. ‘What do you mean?’

His expression was guarded, but before he could reply, Mira’s voice cut in again. ‘The next stage will commence tomorrow at noon. Everyone, let’s have fun together!’

All at once, the screens shut down, leaving us all in the darkness once more. Everything was quiet as we came to terms with what had just happened. It was Arisu who first suggested that we get out of here. Him and Usagi disappeared back through the tunnel, and with one glance at Chishiya and I, Kuina followed.

My fingers were still interlaced with his, hidden within the warmth of his pocket. He was watching me, waiting.

‘These games,’ I said. ‘They’re going to be harder than the others.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Probably.’

‘About what you said before...’ I began. ‘Do you remember that time on the rooftop of the Beach, when I asked you if you were okay, and you told me it shouldn’t matter to me.’

I could see him thinking back. ‘I remember.’

‘What I said then still stands. You might not care about your own life, and I can’t stop you from taking part in these new games.’ I bit my lip, unable to face him as my eyes began tearing up. ‘Perhaps this is selfish of me, but you need to survive. And if you can’t do it for yourself, then....’

He sighed. ‘You cry too much.’ When I looked up, his lips were curled into that same, familiar smile, only this time, there was nothing cruel or condescending there. ‘We should find the others.’

Wiping my eyes with the edge of my sleeve, I finally let go of his hand, following him back out and through the tunnels. As we climbed the steps of the station, emerging into daylight, a series of loud bangs resounded throughout the city. The others were peering up at the skyscrapers towering over us, and the fireworks that burst like flowers against the sunlight.

‘Let’s make a new deal,’ Chishiya said, idly watching the display. ‘I’ll survive, if you return the favour.’

I looked to him, admiring the way his hair shifted in the breeze, and how the reflection of the fireworks danced in his dark eyes.

Let’s go home together.

‘It’s a deal.’

#alice in borderland #aib #imawa no kuni no arisu #chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya x oc #chishiya x reader #chishiya alice in borderland

[jaskierswolf]

The Grass is Greener Pt.1/3

Summary: Jaskier's mother is coming to stay and his garden is an absolute mess and his lawn mower has seen better days... luckily for him his ridiculously hot neighbour is there to lend a hand. 

Geraskier

CW: Shitty parents being shitty.

(Prompted by @alwenarin and based on this post by @infinite-mirrors)

________

Jaskier stared forlornly out at his garden. His mother was due to come over on her yearly visit and the next few days of his life were going to be hell. His mother was the sort to blast into his life like a fucking tornado, pull apart everything that he had built for himself and leave him broken, shattered into a thousand shards of glass. He wasn’t even sure why he still let her in, probably some childhood trauma that meant he was desperate to please her, to make her proud, but what did he know? He wasn’t a therapist, much to her displeasure. Anything would have been better in her eyes than a musician and occasional bartender.

He didn’t make much money. His band hadn’t taken off yet and only really had a small but dedicated following online that donated pocket money in exchange for small previews of new tracks or little poems that could be given to lovers or in greetings cards. Most of his rent was paid for in the tips he made at the bar. He was lucky to have the house at all really. He shared it with his housemates: Priscilla, his bandmate and ex, Essi, her younger sister, Valdo Marx, his former schoolmate, professional rival and absolutely twat face who lurked in his attic room and never really came out to talk to them, and last but not least, Regis, a kind scholarly type who had been living in the house before the other rooms had become available and most importantly made excellent homemade gin.

Said housemates had agreed to fuck off for the weekend so he could pretend that the house was his in a last ditched attempt win over his mother.

Of course, none of them had helped to tidy up before leaving and he’d spent the last twenty-four hours deep cleaning the house, and bolting the door to Regis’s bathroom shut. The gin in the bathtub wasn’t ready to bottle yet and he wasn’t exactly going to drain the tub of his elixir. He’d moved the furniture in his friend’s rooms around enough to make it look like they weren’t extra bedrooms, more… rooms that just happened to have beds in case he had company. Priscilla’s room now resembled a music room, Essi’s room had been turned into a makeshift study, Valdo’s he’d left a mess and claimed it was just an attic, and Regis’s room was sort of a library if you squinted hard enough.

That just left the garden.

“Bollocks!” He moaned.

None of them really cared much about the garden, apart from the box down the end which housed Regis’s herb garden for cooking. The rest of the garden a mess. The grass was practically a wild meadow filled with weeds. He quite liked it. He enjoyed looking at the dandelions, daisies and buttercups but his mother would have a fit.

Where was he even going to start?

Lawnmower. They must have one. He stumbled through his back door onto the patio and made his way to the shed that honestly barely lived up to its name. It was falling apart and leaked horrendously, but luckily inside was one rusty looking lawnmower.

“Bingo!” He grinned and pulled the mower out of the shed. It was heavier than it looked but luckily Jaskier was also stronger than he looked. Even so he wasn’t entirely how he was going to start the damn thing.

Perhaps Geralt would know…

Fuck.

Geralt.

Geralt had just adopted a newborn baby. Her name was Ciri. Most of the time Geralt just called her ‘Cub’ which Jaskier found to be incredibly endearing, a fact that had nothing to do with his teensy little crush on the mechanic.

He pulled up Geralt’s number in his phone. He’d been delighted when Geralt had given him his number, yes maybe it was because Jaskier kept turning up at Geralt’s doorstep after shifts at work because he’d forgotten his keys and none of his bastard housemates were answering the door and Geralt just happened to have a spare key, but the main thing is he had Geralt’s number.

After that they’d conversed a few times over text. Mostly if one of them was running to the shops and wanted to know if the other needed anything. Occasionally Geralt would text to ask Jaskier if he could watch Ciri for a short while if Geralt needed to leave the house. Once Geralt had even given him a lift to work because Jaskier’s bike had gotten a flat tire and he didn’t have enough time to walk all the way to the bar. So they weren’t exactly strangers but he wouldn’t really call them friends.

In fact Geralt was still listed as Hot Neighbour in his phone. He meant to change it, it was just that you couldn’t argue with the truth. Geralt was his hot neighbour.

 J —Hey Geralt! Is it ok if I mow my lawn? I don’t want to wake Ciri if she’s asleep. :)

He stared at his phone intently until about an eternity later, Geralt replied.

 G — The child must not be an obstacle.

Jaskier snorted as he read the response. He read it aloud a couple of times trying to mimic Geralt’s rough husky voice and managed to give himself the giggles.

His phone buzzed again.

 G — I can hear you laughing at me.

“Oh shit!” He almost dropped his phone and his cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Sorry Geralt!” He called into the air.

 G— Hmm.

Jaskier scoffed. Who text back “Hmm”? And why did Jaskier still find that so attractive?

But never mind that! He had the green light. Operation Finally Make His Mother Proud, or FMHMP for short, and yes you could absolutely say that if you tried hard enough, was go! He was going to mow the lawn like a proper adult!

He tried for about six years to turn the mower on but without any success. He kicked the lawnmower in frustration and the whole damned thing fell apart.

“Fuck it!” He yelled as he hopped about on his good foot that hadn’t been battered by lawnmower.

He sulked back into the house and flopped down dramatically on the sofa. It was over. His mother was going to hate him and he would die as a disgrace to the Pankratz name and the Lettenhove estate.

He was half way through his pity party when the doorbell rang. He grabbed his phone to check the time. Strange, his mother wasn’t due for another three hours.

“What the fuck?” He mused and padded over to the door. To his surprise Geralt was standing on his doorstep with Ciri tucked safely into a baby sling on his chest and behind him was a shiny lawnmower. “Ah. Geralt!” He grinned.

Geralt turned to the lawnmower and back to him. “Thought you might need some help.”

Jaskier blushed. “Right. Yes. Of course. Come on in!” He stood back to let Geralt through. “Oh, actually do you want to come round the side gate? The lawnmower probably shouldn’t come through the house. I’ve just cleaned up.”

Geralt grunted but followed Jaskier around the side of the house and into the back garden.

“What the fuck, Jaskier?” He grumbled when he saw the state of the lawn. “I thought you said you were mowing the lawn, not trying to find it!”

“Ah, yes, well. That is an excellent point.” Jaskier stammered, pulling at the hem of his shirt nervously. “You see my mother is visiting.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Your mother, how old are you? Twelve?”

Jaskier gaped at his neighbour. “Geralt!” He whined. “I’m twenty-nine! Mother is just a cow.”

“Hmm. Fine. Let’s do this.” Geralt pulled Ciri gently out of her sling and passed her to Jaskier. “Hold her. I need to grab her stuff. This will take longer than I thought.”

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier called after Geralt but it was too late and Ciri began to cry. “Umm. There there.” He cooed and rocked her gently. “Shall I sing you a lullaby, cub?”

She didn’t answer, babies rarely did, so he decided a lullaby would be fine and began to sing in hushed tones as he rocked her in his arms. Geralt wasn’t long but he seemed surprise to come back to Jaskier rocking his daughter to sleep in his arms.

“Hmm. She likes you.” Geralt noted.

He was carrying Ciri’s car seat and a bag was slung over his shoulder. In his other hand was a large electric contraption with some nasty blades at the end. He dumped the scary looking monster and placed the travel cot on the patio table. Once Ciri was safely asleep they got to work.

Or more accurately, Geralt got to work. Jaskier mostly just watched and made sure Geralt had all the refreshments he needed. He also kept the conversation going by listing all the grievances his mother had with him from her last visit, Geralt hummed and grunted but didn’t offer much in return but it didn’t matter. Jaskier was more than capable of holding an entire conversation by himself.

“And then she starts wittering on about how my sister has a perfect husband and a darling little angel.” Jaskier moaned. “So of course then it’s ‘Julian why don’t you have a wife?’”

“Julian?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier glared at his neighbour. “Don’t ever call me that, I beg of you.”

Geralt shrugged. “I won’t. Just asking.”

“And I tell her, for the hundredth time, to say partner or spouse or lover or you know… not gender specific because she knows! Geralt! She knows. I don’t know how many times I have to tell her.” Jaskier sighed. “Oh, umm I’m bisexual just to give you some context there.”

Geralt nodded. “Right.”

“So of course she starts complaining that I always have to make everything gay, and I’m like… ‘Mother, I am gay!’” Jaskier announced with wide arms.

Geralt looked up at him, pausing halfway down the lawn that was now starting to resemble a lawn. “So why not tell her you’re seeing someone?” He asked. “Solve both problems if you say it’s a guy.”

Jaskier put his hands on his hips and tilted his head. “Yeah.” He scoffed. “Until she asks to meet him.”

Geralt shrugged. “I could do it.”

Jaskier’s heart jumped in his chest. “You what? Geralt!”

“My ex has been bothering me about finding someone.” He grumbled. “Two birds, One stone.”

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at his insanely hot neighbour who was now apparently suggesting they… fake date??

“What exactly are you suggesting here?” Jaskier asked slowly. “You pretend to be my boyfriend for my mother’s visit and we what? Send a few photos to your ex to prove you’re moving on?”

Geralt smirked. “As long as you promise not to fall in love with me.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped.

Well fuck. _______

Next

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geralt/jaskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #dad geralt #surprise fake dating #I could be persuaded to write a second part #let me know if you want part 2 #Update there will now be three parts #ask and you shall receive #the grass is greener