#I could watch those four grocery shop and still enjoy it more than like half the team up we usually get

[trekkies-unite]

Is it too much to ask for marvel to do a little animated Revengers show? Like I don’t even need it to be canon, I just think that Loki, Thor, Bruce, and the Valkyrie have like the best team dynamic and it would be so fun to watch them team up regularly.

#it’s a shame it only lasted like half a movie #I could watch those four grocery shop and still enjoy it more than like half the team up we usually get #also the fact that they were written as like chaotic besties #and then marvel neVER LET THEM BE FRIENDS AGAIN? #like the valkyrie and the hulk were like best friends please show me more of that #that was the hulks first best friend and then they never speak again #I’m begging marvel please keep developing the relationships between your characters #these people act like strangers #bruce banner #thor #Loki #the valkyrie

[ahundredtimesover]

Inevitable (01) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader (ft. ot6)

Genre/Tags: exes au, parents au, baseball player!JK; angst, fluff, smut (18+)

Series Warnings: foul language, alcohol consumption, minor character death, explicit sexual content in future chapters (oral, unprotected sex but be safe please!)

Chapter Word count: 6.9k

Summary: You convinced Jungkook to break up years ago so he could pursue his lifelong baseball dream. Now he’s back home, staring at you, and the little boy next to you who looks unmistakably like him.

A/N: Couldn’t stop thinking about how Yang Jungwon’s role model is Jungkook and they have similar features (especially as kids) and the sweetest smiles! Hence, the little angel we have here. I hope you enjoy this first chapter! Also, you can message me if you want to be part of the taglist!

Series Masterlist || Previous || Next

##

You stare at the grocery list, eyes squinting to try to read the words you’d half-mindedly written down this morning. 

Your boss convinced you to take Friday off when it slipped that Jungwon has been having separation anxiety lately, as he hasn’t spent time with his mother this whole winter break. 

You’d been doing overtime - on weekdays and weekends - and your boss, a mother herself, knows that overworking would take its toll on you and your son, especially as a single parent. It’s why you’re here now, grocery shopping with the little one, something he enjoys doing with you, too.

Still, it’s just one day and it’s not really enough to compensate for all the other days you work your ass off at the company, but the pay is good and the people are kind; those have been enough for you to stay the past two years. 

A smile forms on your face once you decipher the crooked words on the piece of paper you’re holding up. You can make out the word ‘banana’ right before ‘milk,’ ‘choc’ somewhere near ‘ice cream,’ and ‘bron’ just next to ‘cereal.’ Brown cereal? Did he mean cocoa pops?

Jungwon has improved his writing and vocabulary and you pat yourself on the back for the times you’d forced yourself awake during your Sunday rest time just so you could guide him on his workbook. You congratulate yourself for thinking of showing him flash cards while he scrubs himself in the makeshift tub during bath time. And you thank the heavens for your best friend Taehyung’s bright idea of setting up a blackboard on the wall on Jungwon’s side of the bed so he can doodle until he falls asleep. 

“Am I not the best uncle, muffin?” Taehyung had asked the little one then, who always knew what to answer. 

“You and uncle Joonie are the best,” Jungwon had said. 

Your kid is a ball of fluff, you’d almost think it’s genetic because you definitely are not one, but the other half of him is. 

You brush away that thought before your chest begins to tighten. You choose to think that Tae and your older brother Namjoon, whom Jungwon spends the most time with apart from you, are true softies and he’d definitely gotten it from them. 

You’re still smiling, insides warming enough to brave through the January cold until you realize that you’re no longer hearing your son’s buzzing sound that he does when he plays with his airplane. For all his softness, he does give you a heart attack every once in a while because of his tendency to scurry somewhere that piques his interest. It was probably the aisle that had those chocolates he wanted so you pick up your basket and rush to the one right next to where you are.

Your heart drops to the floor at the sight of your son standing in front of a man who’s crouching down, tinkering with the toy. It probably disassembled again and this does not earn you a pat on the back this time for forgetting to buy Jungwon a new one that’s more age-appropriate, and for not paying enough attention. 

You’re partly shocked and partly curious - he’s a shy kid, tends to run back to you at the sight of an unfamiliar person, wide eyes usually on full display when someone tries to get his attention.

But not right now. He’s still wide-eyed but he’s sporting a shy smile, one he tries to suppress by biting his lower lip. Wonder where he got that from. Such mannerisms aren’t genetic too, right?

The mystery man hands him the toy airplane, which Jungown clutches to his chest. He bows at the man and whispers a ‘thank you.’ If that man wanted to do something bad, he would’ve taken Jungwon already but he hasn’t. You’re glad that at least a kind man has found your son. 

“Jungwon, sweetie. Come here, please,” you call out, moving a bit to try to get the man’s attention to express your thanks but he’s sporting a hoodie that’s engulfing his face. Maybe you should’ve been more scared. 

The stranger shakily stands up and turns as Jungown runs to you with his eyes not leaving his little toy. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, can’t leave the figure standing just a few feet away from you, like a bad dream but that isn’t exactly a nightmare. 

He’s here. He’s home. And he looks just as gorgeous as you remember - expressive onyx eyes, pretty thin lips, defined jawline, muscular build...

His own eyes move from you to the kid next to you, trying to come up with explanations, mind reeling at what this could mean. You sounded so tender, so loving, so… motherly.

“Jung—”

“Your—”

You both say at the same time. His eyes are fixated on Jungwon, probably trying to figure out who the child is to you.

“I’m babysitting,” you panic. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow and just as he’s about to open his mouth to say something, Jungwon decides to not be shy in front of a supposed stranger.

“Mama, that man fixed my plane!” He excitedly says, and you hate to crush his little moment of joy. 

Jungkook’s eyes are now saucer-like, not at all minding that you were caught in a lie but that you, the woman who’d broken his heart all those years ago, have a child. A child whose eyes uncannily and painfully resemble his. 

You and Jungkook both seem to be in a daze, your own thoughts swirling in your heads at the situation that neither expected would happen. 

You stopped watching his baseball games about two years ago and had avoided whatever news about him would come up. Except recently when you’d heard about him possibly signing with a South Korean baseball team. Looks like did because he’s here, and he hasn’t been in years. 

You’d heard from your brother that Jungkook had been doing well with the LA Dodgers and you hadn’t expected that he’d up and leave what had been his home the past four or so years to, well, come home. You’re glad he is but you also aren’t prepared for this.

Jungkook, on the other hand, had tried his best to forget about you soon after you walked out on him that December evening, almost succeeding multiple times until he gave up altogether. He came home last week, earlier than what he’d told the media, since he knew they’d be hampering him about his homecoming, given his recent signing with the Doosan Bears, one of Seoul’s professional baseball teams. 

He’d spent the past few days in Busan to visit his mother and arrived from his 4-hour drive just an hour ago. He’d hoped to reach out or run into you but didn’t expect it to actually happen today. He definitely didn’t expect you’d have a son, too.

“Mama, did you get my banana milk?” Jungwon asks, breaking the bubble of confusion and shock between you and Jungkook, both unbelieving at the reality of you finally being in the same space, breathing the same air after so long. 

“Yeah, I—” you start, placing the basket down and picking up your son, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

Your mind is a puddle of thoughts and you just know that incoherent words will escape your mouth if you don’t leave right now so you make a run for it, or at least try. You walk briskly, clutching Jungwon tightly with his arms wrapped around your neck, so you don’t see him smiling at the man following both of you. 

Jungkook calls out your name, prompting Jungwon to state that the man who’d fixed his plane knows his mother. 

There are more people with their pushcarts near the exit, making it hard for your quick escape. Jungkook is catching up and upon realizing you won’t turn back to acknowledge him, he talks to Jungwon instead.

“How old are you, buddy?” Jungkook asks, legs clearly made for this. He’s panting though, you can hear it in his voice. 

You can’t make a scene so you just try to walk faster.

You feel Jungwon release an arm and you know he’s putting out the ‘four’ sign, something he likes to do. 

“When is your birthday?” Jungkook asks shortly after.

Oh god, you think. Jungwon loves this question. “July 6!” He exclaims. 

The footsteps become faint and you’re brave enough to turn back as you near the exit doors. Jungkook stands there, dots connecting, mouth agape at what this means. 

You leave the supermarket and run to your car, hurriedly placing Jungwon on the car seat and driving away, willing the tears not to fall. 

“Who was that, Mama?” He innocently asks. 

You admit that you’d thought about the day you’d see Jungkook and let him know about the little one too many times, but this isn’t how you planned it to happen - in public, when you’re incredibly tired, and when you haven’t thought about what you’d say. 

This isn’t how you planned on telling Jungwon, too, so you tell a half-truth, like what you’d done a few times before.

“He’s a friend, sweetcheeks. He’s just a friend.”

**

The tears eventually fall about 5 hours later. 

You got home from the grocery - without your groceries, watched cartoons with Jungwon, had food delivered, then prepared him for bed. 

You’re now sat on your couch, wine glass in hand, as you try to make sense of the overwhelming emotions of seeing the man that was once your world. Technically, Jungkook still is, considering that your son is half of him. 

But it’s different now. Too much has changed since you broke up with him, since he left 5 years ago to chase his dreams of playing for the Major League Baseball in the US, the dream he’d shared with his father, the dream he’d spent his whole life chasing.

Baseball had always been Jungkook’s world; a given, you always thought, since his own father was a baseball star himself, whose dream of playing for the MLB materialized during a trip to Boston as a teenager, the blinding lights and massiveness of Fenway Park and the roars of the crowd cheering for the Red Sox so alluring that he’d made it a point to watch a live game at least once a year. 

His own career as a professional player for the South Korean league had been commendable, leading his teams to championships and even playing for the 1996 Olympics. That had been the second best experience of his life, the first being Jungkook’s birth two years prior. Marrying his wife was a close third, and it was something the pair always laughed about. You know this because Jungkook raved about his parents a lot, used to talk about them like he just lived next door to his mother - whom he called everyday, like his father was still alive.

His father didn’t have the luxury of getting scouted by American teams because baseball wasn’t as big then, but his dream of playing for the MLB never faded. Just like what his own father had done, he’d taken Jungkook to a live game every year since Jungkook was six, and tried to watch in every baseball park of every major league team. 

They’d only make it to seven though. By that time, the cancer had been debilitating and he had to give up that annual date with his only child. Watching the Lotte Giants in their hometown of Busan had been enough for 13-year old Jungkook, who’d likewise been fascinated by the game, so was waking up in the wee hours of the morning to still catch MLB games on TV. 

Jungkook was 14 when his old man passed. 

He rarely talked about his father’s death. He also rarely talked about his father outside of baseball. He was a father-coach, Jungkook used to say, not the scary, stage father type who pressured him but the incredibly supportive, only slightly critical one. He’d made Jungkook fall in love with baseball, made him have a reason to wake up everyday, made him have something work hard for, fight for. 

After he passed, baseball became something Jungkook hung onto, something he used to remind him of the man that made him who he is today. It became the most sacred part of himself, not for the popularity it gained him nor the praises he received, but because it showed the best parts of him, which were also the best parts of his father - his self-confidence, his tenacity, his grit, and his resolve, his passion for his craft.

Baseball taught Jungkook the value of hard work, of commitment, of focus, while at the same time reminding him of his physical capabilities and limitations. 

It’s why he took his Sports Science course seriously, knowing that until his last breath, he would live for the sport. He’d play until he’s physically able, and do everything else when he can’t. 

Jungkook had always been a good leader - another trait he got from his father, served as the pillar of strength of every team he’d been a part of because of his vulnerability that allowed others to trust him, to believe him.

His self-confidence may border on arrogance, his forcefulness and intensity may be perceived as aggression, but behind his intimidating aura on the field - partly personality, partly physical prowess - is a tender human being who gets excited over sweets, gushes over Ironman merchandise, likes making blanket forts, squeals over baby animals, enjoys bear hugs, and who just loves to love. 

Those were what made you fall for him in the first place. They were what made your naturally cold exterior dissolve until your heart had become bare for him, until your insecurities had become insignificant, until you’d exuded almost the same joy that he had. 

Seeing him today just brought the memories back, as if nothing has changed with what you felt for him, as if the pain you felt when you told him it was over, when you walked out and he let you, was just a breath away. 

You didn’t realize just how much you missed him until you saw him again, until his proximity reminded you how his laugh used to sound, how his wide eyes and sweet smile looked like, how his sensual touches used to feel.

The tears fall again. That pain, that love - it’s like they never went away. 

**

“Uncle Tete!” Jungwon squeals as your best friend picks up your son from the floor, swinging him around in a circle, soft laughter reverberating through the walls of your cozy apartment. It only takes a few rounds before Taehyung puts him down and complains that his arms already hurt. 

“What happened to working on arm exercises?” You chuckle.

“Don’t remind me, you know I hate lifting weights. Plus, like that would make much of a difference,” he exclaims, slim arms out, being swallowed by his sweater. “I’m not an athlete, you know?”

You flinch at the comment and so does he.

“Sorry, too soon?”

“Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes and settling in the kitchen, a bit farther away from Jungwon, whose eyes are now fixated on the TV.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have known Jungkook was back if he hadn’t decided to revive our group chat yesterday after 2 years to ask everyone if they’ve seen you recently because you apparently have a kid and he believes he’s the father.”

“Pretty straightforward, huh?”

“He didn’t wanna waste time. Didn’t even care that your brother is in the same group,” Taehyung shrugs. 

“Probably knows Namjoon won’t check.”

“True. But still, how bold of your ex.”

“What did the guys say?” You ask, curious if they ever caught on. Your twice a year appearance since college graduation seemed to be enough for them.

“Yoongi cursed. Jin spammed with theories because he’s convinced you haven’t had a boyfriend in years. Hoseok sent a video message of his reaction, which was really just him freaking out. Jimin acted surprised.”

“And you?”

“I left the group chat.”

You smack his arm, earning you a scowl. “Real smooth, Kim Taehyung.”

“Well, what was I gonna say? ‘Yeah, Jungkook. Your ex-girlfriend was actually pregnant when she broke up with you and you’re totally the father?’”

“You could’ve feigned ignorance, you know, or like denied it until I figured out what to say.”

“___,” he deadpans. “One look at Jungwon and it screams Jungkook. His name isn’t actually subtle, okay? Look at your kid, he even dresses up and eats like the father he’s never met!” 

You motion for him to tone it down but Jungwon is busy watching the Avengers cartoons in his Ironman pajamas while sipping his banana milk. 

“I’m not projecting!” You say, defending yourself because you know that’s what Taehyung is gonna say. 

“It’s not my fault that my kid chose Ironman as his favorite Avenger no matter how many times I pushed Captain America to his face, okay? He didn’t even mind the shield I bought,” you pout. 

“And he won’t drink plain milk. If it’s not banana, it’s chocolate. And he loves sweets, loves to hug people, has the cutest laugh…” You sigh, still racking your brain on what parts of your son he got from you.

“Maybe the universe is the one projecting, you know? Like it just had to find a way for Jungwon to be connected to Jungkook, if not physically then by other ways.”

“Your theory is sweet but I doubt it, Tae.”

“My theory is backed by evidence. And a father’s instinct because that shit’s real. Jungkook was still around during those first two months, the bond probably developed then.”

“Jungwon was the size of a raspberry. It’s highly unlikely.”

“Can you just stop deflecting? The father of your son is here. What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know! Get my shit together and figure out what to say? You know I’m not ready for this,” you exclaim.

“Funny that you knew exactly what to say when you broke up with him but now you don’t,” Taehyung cocks an eyebrow.

“Are you my best friend or are you out to get me?”

“I’m just saying. You made that decision all on your own. Didn’t even confide in me,” he pouts. “I could’ve thrown some other options that didn’t require you breaking his heart and yours too, and going through all this by yourself.”

“Except I didn’t go through all this by myself,” you pat his head. “I had you and Namjoon. You were all I needed. Still do.”

“We can never take the place of Jungwon’s father, you know that right?” 

“I know, I just… He’s not just my kid’s father, Tae. He’s my ex-boyfriend too. The man I loved.”

“You mean love. The man you still think about, and miss terribly.”

You squint at him as if in question. It’s been years since you and Taehyung had shared an apartment where he’d seen you cry almost everyday. It was something he wasn’t used to because you don’t cry, especially in front of others, not when you found out you were pregnant, not when you walked into Jungkook’s apartment only to walk out of his life. Not when Jungkook skipped graduation and left early for the US. 

Everything changed after Jungwon’s birth. It’s like all the tears you never cried decided it was time. And you had years’ worth of it.

“Your kid’s a lot more perceptive than you think. He tells me sometimes that he sees you cry when you’re in bed or when you’re watching TV with him, and why else would you be crying if it wasn’t for that man?”

Of course he does. Jungwon, again just like his father, is thoughtful and pays you a lot of attention. Seriously, what about you did this kid inherit?

“The dam breaks every once in a while, I can’t help it.”

“Now you can,” Taehyung says as he gives you a hug. “You should talk to him. And soon. You know he deserves it.”

**

Jungkook stares at the ceiling, unwilling to move from the comforts of his bed. Head throbbing from the bottles of SoJu he downed with his older cousin, Jin, last night, the events of the day before are mighty clear in his mind.

He’d really seen you, the woman who once laid residence in his mind and his heart that he could not get rid of no matter how hard he tried, because you’d broken every possible thing you could when you decided to break up all those years ago. 

He remembers that night so clearly, how he’d been excited to finally spend time with you so he could ask you to go with him to the US. You chose to break his heart instead, deciding by yourself that it wouldn’t work out. The only reason he agreed was because he’d been too hurt to even think of another way, but whether he agreed or not, he knew you would’ve walked out of his life regardless.

But there you were yesterday, dressed in your favorite-colored down jacket, hair longer than he remembers, little kid in tow calling you Mama.

Mama. 

He’d just gotten back in Seoul after a visit to his mother. He’d made sure to be sneaky, as he wanted some peace and quiet before all the interviews and events he’ll need to attend because of this “homecoming” that everybody seemed to be making a big deal out of. 

He was doing well with the LA Dodgers, even had meetings and possible offers with the Boston Red Sox, the team his father obsessed over. Jungkook was well on his way for bigger things in the largest baseball league in the world. 

He  decided to sign with the Doosan Bears instead, not even his hometown baseball team. He’ll chalk it up to missing home, maybe breaking ground so he can play in the Olympics, too, just like his father. 

He was gonna seek you out, that was definitely part of the plan. He still considers the breakup as partly one-sided and he wanted to know how you were doing. He also knew he was bound to run into you because there was no escaping your circle of friends, who apparently seemed clueless as well. 

Except for Taehyung, obviously, because he’s your best friend and he definitely would’ve known. But you’re here in Seoul, how did you dodge the rest of them? And Namjoon had really been able to keep everything a secret?

There were so many questions. Jin took it upon himself to be his confidante last night because surprisingly, Jimin, his best friend, had been mum about it. Jungkook and Jin spent the rest of last night scouring through social media for any trace of you and that kid but there had been none. 

Jungkook is desperate, not just because he wants to see you but the child… looked like him. 

The grocery was a few neighborhoods away from his,  but it was next to the bank he was in so he decided to just do his shopping then. He’d been going through the sweets aisle, ready to fill the pantry of his new apartment with his favorite snacks, then he heard a thump and a soft quivering voice. 

He turned to see a little boy looking sad over his toy airplane whose one wing had been clipped off. An adult didn’t seem to be around and he definitely trusts himself more than any other stranger so he’d approached the kid and asked if he needed help.

Curious doe-eyes met his questioning gaze, until the little kid took the airplane and its broken wing in his arms and cradled them. 

“It’s hurt,” the kid had said, and he felt his heart burst at the cuteness and softness of this child. Jungkook took the toy and easily fixed it, the sliding slot probably too hard for his little hands to maneuver. He was about to ask for the kid’s name when he heard a familiar voice call out, the kid looking up and scurrying away from him.

And then there was you. 

Everything felt hazy until the kid called you his Mama. You’d picked him up and started walking away before Jungkook could even greet you. He’d seen your abandoned grocery basket, which he could easily pass up as his own because of the same things he’d buy for himself. 

The wheels were turning in his head and it wasn’t until the kid, apparently named Jungwon, stated his age that Jungkook pieced everything together. Or at least the possibility.

Could Jungwon be his child?

At the thought of this, Jungkook froze, watched your figure disappear from his sight, the eyes of the child boring into him as you walked away again. The kid let out a small smile and Jungkook had seen enough pictures of himself as a little kid in the news the past few weeks to be reminded of how he looked like, and he looked like that. It was unmistakable. 

The scene plays in his head again and Jungkook feels the throbbing of his chest match the throbbing of his head, the need to confirm his suspicions and know the whole truth seeping through his veins. He tries to calm himself down, which is difficult, but he knows he needs a level-head if the truth is what he wants from you. 

It’s just past lunchtime and he calls Jimin for help. As he enters the passenger seat, Jimin asks his friend for the destination.

“Take me to Taehyung’s place.”

**

Jungkook is running on adrenaline. With a sober mind now and a still-aching chest, he’s willing his body to relax but he’s unable, focused only on finding the truth.

There’s concern and an air of acceptance in Taehyung’s face when he opens the door to Jungkook, the idea of him showing up here having something that Taehyung has considered. Jungkook has at least half a mind to reach out to someone else before going to you. 

Taehyung welcomes him in, knowing better not to argue or match the other man’s emotions. Jungkook doesn’t ask questions though and instead heads for the refrigerator, bites his lips at the sight of the same brand of banana milk he’d seen in your grocery basket. 

He walks around the apartment, not missing the small basket of toys by the window. He opens a room that’s actually Taehyung’s art room and sees a paint set for kids, a framed photo of him with Jungwon placed on a shelf and next to it is a painting, the words “Jeon Jungwon” written at the bottom. It’s all the confirmation that he needs.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Taehyung asks, arms on his waist now, a bit of annoyance seeping through at the disrespect being shown to him. He gets that Jungkook is upset, but Taehyung knows him, knows he’s probably coming up with his own conclusions in his mind. 

Before Jungkook could say anything, they hear the front door open, Namjoon’s deep voice calling out. 

“Tae, did you get to drop off the groceries at ___’s? Jungwon’s been asking for his milk since yesterday and—” Namjoon stops as he stands by the door, eyes wide at Jungkook standing there, no doubt trying to keep himself together.

“Are you Jungwon’s father now?” He directs the question to Taehyung, the bitterness in Jungkook’s voice not lost on all the men present, including Jimin who’d been having his own battle in his mind because pretty soon, the anger will be directed at him, too. 

Jungkook is the kid’s father, he’s sure of it now, yet the thought of another man taking that role causes an ache in his chest.

“Jungwon sleeps here? Does art with you? Does he call you—”

“He calls Tae ‘uncle,’ Jungkook. The same thing he calls me,” Jimin says, essentially coming out.

“You knew? This whole time?” Jungkook yells, fists clenched as the anger builds.

“Just a few years ago but—”

“And you said nothing to me?”

“It was just 2 years ago.”

“And you’ve visited me twice a year since then and you never thought to tell me that I have a son…” Jungkook flinches at the word, unbelieving that it’s something he’d even say. 

“Look, just calm down, okay?” Jimin tries, but he knows it won’t do much.

“Calm down? I’m fucking livid. I have a…” Jungkook stops himself, willing the tears not to fall. All this time, you had a child that you’d kept from him, without a care of how he would feel.

“Jungkook, just take a breath, yeah?” Namjoon says this time, walking towards the younger man and pulls him in for a hug. “It’s a lot, I know. But just breathe for a bit.”

Jungkook pulls away, a mix of anger and sadness in his eyes. “How could she keep this from me?”

“Only she can answer that,” Namjoon sighs. 

“I need to see her,” Jungkook states after a long pause.

“I can ask when she’s free—” Taehyung offers, ready to get his phone.

“I need to see her now.”

**

Jungkook finds himself in Jimin’s car, with Taehyung in the backseat talking to you over the phone, saying that he’ll take Jungwon for the rest of the afternoon and that they’re on their way. 

Jungkook listens to Taehyung talk to you with so much care, the way he always had all those years ago. Nothing has changed, really. 

Back in college, people tried to keep their distance from you, afraid of your resting bitch face and usually cold demeanor. Jungkook had heard about you from Jin, a good friend of your brother’s, and couldn’t quite reconcile the incredibly friendly and gentle Taehyung as your best friend. 

It was one of the things that intrigued Jungkook, and he’d find out later on, after pulling all the stops with his flirting and finally getting you to agree on a coffee date, that you really did have a bitch face and you were cold if you wanted to be. 

But you were so unapologetically you that it was refreshing. It wasn’t a defense mechanism or anything, it was just really who you were, but that wasn’t everything about you - you were also caring, protective, generous, extremely hardworking, and very confident. 

Jungkook had fallen in love faster than he could throw a baseball, and he knows he can throw past 90/mph. 

You complemented each other so beautifully that fights were easily resolved, if any, dates were always exciting, and moments together were never boring, even if it was just you quietly working on a paper and him noisily studying his games. 

Taehyung was relentless in befriending you and you caved in pretty easily. “Look at the smile,” you’d said once. “Who can resist that?” You always had a soft spot for your best friend and Jungkook never minded; he’d trusted your relationship and you when you said that he never had to worry about Taehyung.

Except now. Because Taehyung seems to be a father figure to his son, being what Jungwon had needed all these years, while Jungkook had been clueless about it. 

The night you broke up with him, you left him a weeping mess and begging behind closed doors to please don’t go. He felt he’d lost a big part of him, felt the soul-crushing feeling of losing someone again. 

The loss of you was something he couldn’t prepare for and he’d spent years trying to put the pieces again, all on his own, in a foreign country, while chasing his dream. It had been hard but after some time, he rationalized in his mind that maybe you were right, maybe it would’ve been very hard for the both of you given the distance, the time difference, the busy schedules. It wouldn’t have been fair; he’d accepted that.

But keeping his child from him like this? This is too much. This is ruthless. You made a decision again. All by yourself. And he’s angry.

**

Everyone is thankful that Jungwon is asleep, although it’s a chance for Jungkook to see the little one in slumber, looking like the most adorable boy in the world. 

Jimin and Taehyung agree to leave first, Jungkook not wanting them to wait, although he’s unsure how long this conversation with you is going to last. 

You’ve been pacing back and forth since Taehyung called, informing you of the impromptu visit and Jungkook being unrelenting in his decision to speak with you today. You would’ve wanted to wait, although you know that Tae is right - Jungkook needs to know as soon as possible; he deserves that much. 

In your more than 2 years together, you barely saw Jungkook angry - that was more of your thing because he enjoyed annoying the hell out of you every time and you always gave him shit for it. 

But you two barely fought - you understood his busy schedule and were never really the jealous type, despite the presence of his “fans” (except maybe around Sora who’d named herself as the president of Jungkook’s fan club like that shit still flies), while Jungkook always knew how to make it up to you. He rarely complained, too if you ditched him to work on your projects. 

But this Jungkook is different - his nostrils are flaring, brows are furrowed, jaws are clenched you’re afraid he’d break his teeth. 

You’re different, too. You’re nervous, more reserved, not with your usual crossed arms but with fingers fidgeting at the loss of control. 

You lead him in the living room and motion for him to sit down but he dismisses you. 

“Hi, Jung—”

“I need to hear it from you,” he breathes out. “I know, god, I fucking know but I need to hear it from you.”

You take a deep breath and you say the words you’ve practiced in your head. “Jungwon is our son.” 

You see him close his eyes, bite his lips, and tilt his head. It’s how you know he’s trying to control his emotions.

The silence is deafening but you give him time to process.

“How? I mean, you were on birth control and you said you never missed…” He stammers.

“Pills are not 100%, Jungkook. It just happened,” you explain, racking your brain for days right after you took the test over how it might’ve happened. At one point you stopped; it was no use.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

It’s the big question, the one he’s been losing his mind over. It doesn’t matter that it happened; he just doesn’t know how you could make that big of a decision all on your own when it concerned him, the other half of the child.

“You were on your way to the big leagues. I couldn’t take that away from you.”

“But you thought it was alright to take away years with my son?” He seethes. “Fuck, ___. That wasn’t your decision to make.”

It wasn’t, not fully at least, you knew it. But he wouldn’t make that decision, so you had to.

“I made it anyway,” you respond, tone more stern now. 

With all the pain and struggles it brought, it’s the one thing you stand by; it’s a decision you never regretted. Watching Jungkook play in the ballparks his dad never got to take him to, seeing him blow a kiss to the sky before and after every game, and catching him mouth the words ‘I love you, dad’ after his interviews have always been enough to trump everything else.

Jungkook had been living his and his father’s dream. It had always felt worth it.

“Why? I would’ve stayed,” Jungkook yells. 

“Exactly. You would’ve,” you yell back. “I was sure that the moment you knew, you would’ve passed up a dream you worked your whole life for. I couldn’t let you do that. I couldn’t let you make that decision.”

“So you made it for me, by giving me none at all?” He scoffs. “Real brave, ___. And real fucked up, too.”

“It was the only way for you to go!” You exclaim. “If you had known, you wouldn’t have left, you would’ve settled, stayed behind… You would’ve given everything up.”

“Because that’s our child, ___!”

“And we didn’t plan on having him!” You shout, tears prickling on the corners of your eyes now. 

“You’ve known baseball your whole life, Jungkook. Everything you’ve ever done was so you could play in the MLB and you did. You made it happen because you had the best opportunity and you took it, worked hard, got to where you wanted to be,” you rationalize.

He’s panting as he processes your words, mind going again to that night when you walked out on him, making sense of the reasons why, those you verbalized and those you didn’t. 

“I know you, Jungkook,” you sigh, your voice taking him back to the present. “You’d take responsibility because that’s the kind of man you are. You would’ve insisted on taking care of us, on letting go of everything else for us, for your son. And I couldn’t let you give up on your dream, the one thing left of your father…”

“Don’t you fucking dare bring up my father,” he snaps at you, eyes so cold and you feel so small.

“You wouldn’t have forgiven yourself if you let that dream go for us.”

“Then you don’t really know me, ___. Because the hell would I give us up just like that. The hell would I give up time away from my son.” 

He pulls his hair out of frustration, then lets go, tears now streaming down his face. 

“I was 14 when I lost my dad, ___.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

“No, you don’t know. And you aren’t sorry,” he retorts, his back facing you as he tries to get himself together. “I had to watch him wither away, had to stay by his bedside and watch him take his final breath because my mother couldn’t. I was 14 and I had to be strong for my parents. And I cried, every single night, for months,” he heaves. 

He turns to face you, wants you to know how much you’ve hurt him.

“I almost quit school because I wouldn’t get out of my bed, wouldn’t talk to anyone. I told you I suffered, that I lost my way,” he continues, weeping. 

But you didn’t know this, didn’t know he suffered like this, that he lost his way like this.

“But the dream kept you going, didn’t it?” You try. “It gave you purpose; you had something to live for, Jungkook,” you continue, reminding him of what the dream meant to him. 

He’d been young but he had so many memories with his father about baseball; it had been the core of their relationship, the thread that kept them connected years after his death. 

“In return for what?” He barks. “Fuck, I would’ve given anything to have my father again. And that includes that dream, ___.” 

You stare at him, his body now crouching down on the couch, unable to fully lift himself up. You’d never seen him like this. He was never afraid to cry but this is different.

Your own tears are relentless, as if telling you that this is all because of you and you deserve this pain. You had broken this man, and you’d done so without regret.

He looks up at you, wipes his tear-drenched face, illuminating the pain, the longing, the anger.

“You took four years of my life away from my son. You robbed me of that chance. You didn’t even give me a choice. How fucking selfish are you? You had no right, ___,” he huffs.

“I just… I know you, Jungkook. You would’ve stayed and then what?” You say, trying to stand your ground, but even you don’t believe your words, at least not anymore. 

“You’ll regret it down the road? Resent us because you had to stay? How would we feel? How would Jungwon feel, knowing that his father gave up his dream for him?”

“Really? You’re absolutely sure that’s what would happen? As if I’m not resenting you now?” Jungkook scoffs. 

“You don’t know what it’s like to have someone be taken from you, to not have enough time with them. But yeah, you need to have the last say always, right?” He says coldly, allowing the silence to let you take in his bitter words.

“You can’t ever feel like you don’t have control so you make all the decisions by yourself. Hurting those in your wake before they hurt you. But it’s all good right because you stand by it? As long as it’s enough to rid you of the guilt even if it hurts everyone else?”

This is how he hurts you - peeling away your layers and throwing them back at you, until there’s nothing left but all the parts you didn’t want anyone to see. But Jungkook had seen them, accepted them, loved you despite them. 

But he’s standing in front of you. And there’s no love in his eyes. You don’t think you deserve it anymore. 

You give him this, the last say. And he takes it. And he leaves. 

Like countless times before, you fall to the floor and cry. You cry until your sounds are loud enough, until you can no longer hear your own heart breaking.

##

Taglist: @fluffyjoons @jwlmnbt @koremis @mrcleanheichou @kooafraid @purplepommy @btstannies @jeonwiixard @songshin @joondala @hobiade @di0rgguk @fan-ati--c @yn-the-reader @spicybangtanwings @njkbangtan @jeoncookie-bts @miniaturecloud @revehosh @preciouschimine @sherlynxx @dimreads 

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#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfiction #parents au #exes au #baseball player jk #inevitable #series

[nebulus-frd]

Jealous and protective Rowan and oblivious Aelin in a modern established relationship au

Hi!!!

Thank u so much for the request. I loved your prompt and also love Rowaelin deeply. Hope u enjoy it ♡

If you liked it or not, let me know. Leave a comment, compliments and especially, constructive critics, are always welcomed.

Wanna request your story? Come ⋆⭒ here ⋆⭒, tell me everything. ----------

The beach. The sea. Them.

Synopsis: Modern AU where Rowan and Aelin finally get a deserved vacation. But he isn't enjoying all the attention given to his wife during the first day of it.

Rated: T

Warnings: implied sexual content. If I forgot anything, let me know.

Words: 1700+ (oneshot).

1/1

It was their first time back at the beach after being married.

The life of a military couple was hectic, to say the least, but Rowan and Aelin were rather used to the chaos. This explained why Rowan found himself alone in bed on the first morning of their vacation. Although his wife had always been a late riser, he knew better than anyone how hard it was to break their routine and if he himself hadn’t take medicine to fall asleep, he wouldn’t probably have slept at all.

Not bothering to properly dress, Rowan moved to the kitchen only to find it empty. Did she go grocery shop? But to his surprise not only was the fridge completely packed, but three sandwiches also topple each other on a plate next to a note.

Good morning princess, did you sleep well? Not even a true love kiss was able to break from the evil medicine spell. I’m training on the beach. Join me… Or not, if you feel like sleeping throughout the entirety of our vacation.

Love,

Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius.

Rowan didn’t even feel the smile that broke through him. God, I love her. Of course, she was training. His wife always called him a workaholic and a military freak, only to always prove herself one. The food was warm enough for her not to have left for too long. And in half an hour Rowan found himself heading to their hotel gym.

Where was Aelin?

He had circulated the gym area twice without success in the mission of joining his wife. Could she be at the beach? It wouldn’t be a surprise. Aelin loves the sea, the sunny weather, and the heat on her skin.

Eight years ago, if someone said to Rowan that there were people who loved those things, he would have straight-out laughed in their faces. He couldn’t anymore. He had learned to appreciate each of these unlike anyone else.

Rowan loved the smile Aelin would have while watching the sea, loved the glow her eyes would reflect under the sun’s light, loved the heat from Aelin’s heart.

His wife had changed each perspective he had in his life.

And while at the beach, once again he asked himself how the hell, he was deserving of the woman he married to?

Aelin was coming out of the sea, dressed in a swimsuit that covered a lot more of what he was used to seeing, looking like the sea god herself had descended in the mortal world to bestow her beauty upon mortals. Thus, Rowan was hindered breathless and as soon as their eyes locked up, he could listen to her thoughts through them.

“Are you delight with the view?”

And the smile that broke in her lips made his knees go weak. She pointed to a small pile of clothes at his right and he could recognize the tennis beside it. As soon as they met Rowan girdled his arm around her hips and kissed her.

“Missed me much?” Aelin asked holding a smirk while still in his arms. Her turquoise eyes nailed on his green-forest ones. The only answer she received was a grunt and a heavy head dropping in her shoulder. “You know you could use words, rather than growling like a beast”, which made Aelin feel the smile coming from her husband, she could picture it too: the perfect set of teeth accompanied by two fangs that were borderline not-human, which had left so many marks on last night's activities, she had almost come to the beach in a diver suit.

“I can’t be bothered. There are a lot of more interesting things to do with my mouth… And my tong…”, Rowan’s impure statement was interrupted by the sound of Aelin’s phone ring, it took a moment for the woman to snap out of the mood her husband had put them in. Poor object, it earned a glare that, if possible, would have transformed it into ashes.

“Oh hi!... Yes, of course, I’m coming… Right, next to the bar… Yes, be there in a few”, she said on the phone friendly. With whom she could have made prior appointments?

“Where are you going?”, Rowan asked confused, involuntarily holding her tighter, Aelin didn’t hide the smile at her husband's unwillingness.

“WE are going to a functional training, apparently the hotel holds them every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday”, she said while putting on a pair of shorts and her tennis, Rowan just nodded in answer.

Once they were in the central area, the closer location between the hotel’s pools and the beach, the equipment could already be seen as well as 10 people roaming around it. Soon enough a man came up to them greeting Aelin, too friendly to Rowan’s likeness, although he could only spot the top of his head.

“Miss Galathnyius, it’s good to have you with us today”, the strange said while avoiding looking at Rowan’s side but he did not miss a beat.

“It’s Mrs.” his accented and low voice seemed to reverberate, earning him an alarmed glance from the instructor, as he had taken from his clothes and name tag.

“Yes, of course. Mr. and Mrs. Galathnyius it’s a pleasure to have both of you here”, the smaller man seemed ready to bolt as he alternated his looks from Rowan’s face tattoo and Aelin’s mirth-filled eyes, she just nodded and that was very well what he did. She knew it wasn’t jealousy from her husband, more like his inability to not correct a mistaken person.

Oh, how wrong she was.

…

Half an hour throughout the class, Rowan was calculating how much trouble would he be if he were to beat three civilians. As the training was open to anyone at the beach, around fifteen more people had come to enjoy the activities. Including a group of four men, who seem too inclined to help Aelin with her training.

Which had made Rowan seeing red since he heard the first suggestion in correcting Aelin’s posture during a core exercise. Whilst his wife seemed completed oblivious as not only agreed to a few suggestions and gave tips of her own. Rowan didn’t mind that both were right.

Nonetheless, at each suggestion made by a stranger, Rowan would casually assert his territory. Moving closer to Aelin, helping her with the weights and holding her during an exercise that required it. Of course, there was the possibility that none of the people participating held any second intentions towards his wife and were only trying to be helpful. He seriously doubted it, even though that was what Aelin seem to think.

Usually, Rowan had never been one to bluntly be jealous and if he found it necessary to discuss attitude with someone, he wouldn’t do it in front of Aelin. But he’d gone apeshit when one of the guys from before made a move to touch her while he went to grab for water. Fuck this. He had been by her side every single moment. What’s with these disrespectful motherfuckers?

The man whose hands extended to help Aelin in moving the piece on her waist only caught a movement in corner of his eyes before a mountain of a man was before him. His eyes caught a glimpse of a wicked tattoo on the man’s face, which had been hidden by the cap he was using.

Rowan’s intimidating demeanor and the fucking gold ring in his and hers left hands were more than enough for assholes to grasp the situation.

She is mine, I’m hers. Fuck off.

Either it was the rings or himself didn’t matter. Apparently, with one look everybody understood his warning.

…

However, nine hours later, he’d been left baffled as his wife complained how, after he glued himself to her side, nobody had talked or interacted with her anymore.

“Well, if you weren’t such a territorial bastard today, we could have made some friends that could introduce us to the town”, she said as they had clearly lost themselves while looking for a Japanese restaurant.

“I beg your pardon?”, Rowan answered seeing red all over again just from remembering the previous event.

“Oh, come on, you thought I did notice? You were just asserting your territory for the heck of it”, she said not bothering with more than an eye roll, still searching the street’s name on their map.

“For the heck of it?”, Rowan was bewildered. Aelin thought he was doing that out of leisure?

“You couldn’t possibly be jealous of those guys from the beach, right?”, she said finally dropping the stupid map that had put them in their current predicament and looking straight into his eyes. Whatever she saw there gave Rowan his favorite smile. “You were….”, she laughed, loud and uncaring. Beautiful. “You are unbelievable”.

Like the viper his wife was, she stealthy approached him in that dark alley. “My cranky husband was jealous of some gym dudes?”, her voice was surrounded by arrogance and seductiveness. Reminding Rowan just who he had married with. The most confident, assertive, dazzling woman he had ever met.

Their eyes were locked on each other as she stalked him like a snake ready to consume her prey. His response to her provocation was nothing more than a grunt. “You know what you should have done?... You could have kissed me right there, ravished me, really… And I would’ve said thank you”.

After many years into their relationship, one would think that Rowan had become numb to Aelin’s advances. However, it was very much the opposite of it. He would be scandalized, shocked… And excited, she burned him with bold words and even bolder actions that made his head spin. His calloused hand didn’t miss one second into holding Aelin’s by her backside and his mouth went to her neck.

“Ditch dinner, Fireheart, I will show you what I would like to have done”, Rowan could feel Aelin’s thundering heartbeat, like his own due to their proximity. It would never lie to him, he affected her just as she did him.

“Oh, why, when you say with such gentleness. I suppose we could make something at home”, she smoothed her hand at Rowan’s ringed finger each word, handing him a bright smile by the end. “I love you”, albeit the sentence was said in a soft tone, it swept bothering feelings between the two, such as sea waves that accompanied their evening.

“To whatever end”, he said holding her left hand and as they walked toward the ocean. Free, unrestricted, and vast. Much like their love.

#rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin #aelin ashryver #fanfic request #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin au #modern setting #they are powerful military couple fight me #jealous rowan #oblivious aelin #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog #love them so much #rowaelin oneshot #oneshot

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Fourteen)

Summary: While dealing with a surprising new development in their relationship, Loki and (Y/N) are stuck in the middle of an explosive feud between Steve and Tony.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I’d call this a filler chapter but I absolutely love writing about the Avengers as a whole! I also thought we needed a little break from the plot for some team bonding before things get too crazy lol I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Fourteen November 22nd, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

“You read this book when you were how old?”

(Y/N) smiled mischievously and turned her attention back to reorganizing her closet. “I was seven. I checked it out from the library without telling my Aunt Evelyn and read it late at night; I couldn’t sleep without my nightlight on for months afterwards but I’m glad I read it, since it’s a literary classic and everything.”

Loki let out a half-laugh and turned the page of his book. “Well, if we’re ever blessed with children, I think we should wait until they’re at least twelve to introduce them to Dracula. Perhaps even fourteen.”

“Children?”

In an instant, Loki froze and it dawned on him what he’d accidentally said. (Y/N) was also frozen, her arm still extended to grab a hangar from inside the closet. “I-I…I just meant…I’d like to…” Loki cleared his unusually tight throat. “I, ah, wouldn’t mind having…you know, children. Someday. With…with you.” Dammit, I’ve made a mess of things again, Loki inwardly groaned.

They’d only been together for a little over four months and it was much, much too early in their relationship to bring about the subject of children. But after he acknowledged his love for (Y/N), it was challenging for Loki to envision a future without her in it and lately, the idea of a more permanent future with the woman he loved was all he could think about. He knew that his girlfriend liked children; back when she still worked at the New York Public Library, he’d fondly watch her helping them with their homework or reading to them and since officially becoming the Cosmic Sorceress, she’d visited the children’s ward at the nearby hospital once a week to cheer up the young patients. And despite what others might believe, Loki also liked children and the thought of being a father one day – while admittedly a little nerve-wracking – was not an unwelcome one.

Just as (Y/N), with her (Y/E/C) eyes widened in shock, opened her mouth to reply, there came the sounds of voices shouting angrily from the common room down the hall. In an instant, Loki and (Y/N) summoned their magic into the palms of their hands before sprinting out of her suite and down the hallway.

Steve and Tony stood on either sides of the common room and were fully engaged in a blazing argument by the time Loki and (Y/N) arrived. Skidding to a stop beside (Y/N), Loki’s first thought was that he’d never seen either man as angry as they were now, even during the Battle of New York.

“Because you flat-out refused to listen when I said to wait, three S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are at the hospital in critical condition!” Tony yelled.

Steve stepped closer and shouted back, “And if I hadn’t acted when I did, an entire apartment complex would’ve been demolished anyway and dozens of people would be dead! Those agents would be fine right now if you hadn’t hesitated to use your scanners!”

“You mean, if I hadn’t stopped to think the situation through?!”

“You’re acting like a civilian, Stark, not a soldier! Our job is to make the tough decisions as quickly as we can for the benefit of the whole, we don’t have the luxury of holding committees for every choice we make!”

“Bullshit, it’s better to weigh options instead of barreling in without a plan; that’s what you’re best at, though, isn’t it? If you hadn’t made the dumb-ass decision to crash that plane in ‘45, you and Carter-”

Before Tony could finish his sentence, Steve landed a punch on his jaw that sent him staggering backwards. Tony quickly surged forward to retaliate, but Loki used his magic to halt his movement while (Y/N) used hers to stop Steve. “Enough!” They dissolved their magic and with matching looks of contempt, both Steve and Tony turned and stormed away, leaving Loki and (Y/N) to gape at each other in shock.

“Yeah, that was a continuation of what happened on the Quinjet.” They turned and watched Bruce step out of the elevator with a weary expression on his face. “I’ll explain everything to you both, but can we do it in private? The rest of the team’s at each other’s throats and I don’t want all the fighting to accidentally trigger the Big Guy…”

After leading the scientist into (Y/N)’s suite and subtly lighting one of her calming lavender-scented candles, Loki sat beside his girlfriend on the sofa and listened as Bruce talked. “This arms dealer was holding an entire apartment building in Luxembourg hostage, said he’d blow the place up if his demands for more guns weren’t met. Fury sent Steve, Tony, Bucky and Clint this morning; the plan was to surround the building and find a way in before going after the guy, but he decided he didn’t want to wait any longer and turned an automatic timer on for the explosives. Cap sent the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in to clear the building and Tony said to wait for the agents to give word before ordering Bucky to take the shot, but Steve didn’t listen. Bucky took the shot, got the guy, but the explosives still went off.” Loki and (Y/N) exchanged looks of confusion, and Bruce continued. “There was a pressure timer hidden in his hand, they call it a dead man’s switch; Tony scanned and saw it at the last second, but Steve was already giving the order to Bucky.” Bruce started pacing as he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s like a civil war; Clint and Nat are taking Tony’s side, they think Steve could’ve waited a little longer, and Sam and Bucky are on Cap’s side.” He snorted in derision. “Thanksgiving dinner should be a blast this year.”

(Y/N) nodded, a saddened expression on her face, but Loki furrowed his brow. “Thanksgiving? You host a dinner of thanks on Midgard?”

“I’ll explain it to you later.” She flashed him a brief smile before returning her concerned gaze to Bruce. “Is there anything we can do?”

“You both should probably just stay out of it; they might come around faster if they see that you’re neutral in all this.” The scientist walked to the door. “I’d better go down and talk to Fury, so I’ll see you guys later.”

Once Bruce closed the door behind him, (Y/N) threw herself back against the cushions of the couch and sighed. “How could something like this have even happened? We’ve been such a strong team these past few months and now…”

“They’re both strong-willed men and stubborn in their own right, you know that. Each holds steadfast to their beliefs no matter the consequences; this is a trait of theirs I’ve both admired and admonished in all the time I’ve known them.” Loki admitted. “But Banner is correct, any attempt of ours to help may only worsen the situation for everyone.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking in (Y/N)’s troubled frown, Loki decided to try distracting her from their fighting teammates, laying down and resting his head in her lap so that he was staring up at her. “So, a feast of thanks sounds…quaint.”

As he’d hoped, she relaxed as she gave him a look of amusement and began running her fingers through his hair. “It’s more than that, silly. In America, it’s a day where we give thanks for our lives and the people in them. We sit around a table for dinner and let our loved ones know just what they mean to us, that we cherish and appreciate them, no matter any differences…we might…we might have…” (Y/N) trailed off, pausing a moment before gasping in excitement. “Loki, I think I may have either a brilliant plan or an insane one!”

“I know just what you have in mind, darling. Let’s go!” They both hurried to the living room closet and tugged on their coats and scarves; they had a long, long day of shopping ahead of them.

Although he’d acclimated fairly well to Midgard in the months since his arrival, one of the things Loki still utterly despised about the realm were its ‘grocery stores.’ They were crowded, lit by horrendous fluorescent lights and stocked to the brim with inedible, overpriced food; whenever he’d been asked to accompany one of his fellow Avengers on their shopping trips, he would come up with every excuse under the sun to decline their invitation. But he decided to put aside his displeasure for the benefit of his girlfriend and teammates, resigning himself to pushing the rickety metal shopping cart up and down the aisles as (Y/N) read off her hastily-written list.

Their shopping trip had gone far better than he’d imagined and in no time, they were carrying their bags into the lobby of the Avengers Tower.

“You know, we’re going to need an extra pair of hands to help us with the cooking on Thursday.” (Y/N) pointed out as they stepped into their team’s private elevator. “I’m not very good in the kitchen, as you already know, but I’ve always been able to bake pretty decent pies.”

Loki nodded. “All right, so who did you have in mind to help?”

At that moment, the elevator stopped and the doors opened to reveal the smiling face of his golden-haired brother. “Ah, there you are! The J.A.R.V.I.S. just informed me you had returned from your outing, was it productive?”

“…You could call it that.”

The tone of his girlfriend’s voice prompted Loki to glance over at her; she was looking from Thor to him, her eyebrows raised and a triumphant smile spreading across her face. Finally understanding her words, Loki’s smile morphed into a look of absolute horror. “Oh no, no, no, not him…!”

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

“Wait, you guys cooked all this? Without burning the kitchen down?”

Loki couldn’t help but give Bruce a pained look. “Believe me when I say that it was not for lack of trying, Doctor Banner.”

Since they wanted dinner to be a surprise, they’d prepared each dish in one of the kitchens used by the new S.H.I.E.L.D. organization; unfortunately, in their attempt to be secretive they were forced into cramped quarters with rather primitive kitchen appliances at their disposal. And to add to Loki’s growing list of responsibilities, he was forced to babysit the love of his life and his brother in order to prevent the dishes from being ruined by their absolute lack of culinary skills. More than once, he had to use his magic to protect the food he’d cooked from (Y/N)’s over-zealousness with the spices and at one point, he was forced to quickly talk Thor out of using his lightning to rapidly cook the turkey. Hopefully it’ll all have been worth it, Loki tiredly thought to himself.

As if in-tuned with Loki’s inner monologue, Bruce nervously adjusted the sleeves of his coat and replied, “Well, I hope this works and doesn’t just end up making everything worse.”

“You and I both, Doctor.” His eyes were drawn to the elevator as its doors opened, revealing (Y/N) and a cart filled with the feast they’d cooked, and he hurried over to meet her. “Everything’s going to plan so far, they think that it’s only the seven of us for dinner.”

With the help of Bruce, they went about setting the enormous table. “I just sent Thor to fetch Team Cap, so they should be here any minute.” Once they finished, (Y/N) removed her apron and smoothed out her skirt, her anxious expression softening a fraction as she turned to the two men. “Now we see if our brilliantly-insane plan will work.”

Loki had just enough time to lean down and press a reassuring kiss to his girlfriend’s forehead before the elevator doors once again slid open.

“Mmm, smells good in here!” Tony grinned, walking up to (Y/N) and handing her a bottle of wine. “I had Pepper ship one of my best labels over from Malibu for the occasion.”

Natasha did little to hide her amusement at his words. “You just couldn’t resist, could you? And you,” She turned to shoot Clint a glare. “If you don’t stop fidgeting, Barton, we’re going to have a problem.”

“I can’t help it, this stupid suit’s uncomfortable!” Clint grumbled; once Natasha returned her attention to the others, the archer rolled his eyes and whispered to Loki, “Damn straight jacket. (Y/N) forced you into one too, huh?”

“Yes, I-” The sight of Steve, Sam and Bucky entering the room behind Thor caused Loki’s words to die in his throat and as the others caught sight of them, he surreptitiously summoned his magic into his hands in case a fight broke out. Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted Thor and Bruce exchanging weary looks.

Steve’s face was a mask as he stepped forward. “Stark.”

“Asshat.”

All Hel broke loose; Steve and Tony lunged towards one another, their struggling forms barely held back by Bucky and Clint. A cacophony of shouting quickly filled the room as both sides began arguing with each other, but just as Loki raised his arms to use his magic, (Y/N) calmly stepped forward and walked in between the warring groups. The shouting and struggling instantly stopped as they gawked at (Y/N), but she merely smiled warmly at them as she spoke. “Thank you all for coming to our Thanksgiving dinner, Loki and I are glad you were able to make it. Bruce mentioned that you usually don’t celebrate together, but this is my first Thanksgiving with you all and I wanted to mark the occasion with my new family…all of it.” Her words seemed to have their desired intent, as both Steve and Tony relaxed their stances and the others backed away from them. “Now, we should start eating before everything gets cold!”

Needless to say, dinner was a tense affair. Where there was usually the sounds of deafening chatter and laughter, there was quiet murmuring and stoic looks. Loki watched (Y/N) with equal amounts of admiration and sympathy as she tried her hardest to engage their teammates in conversation with one another and with each failed attempt, he could see a little more of her heart breaking. After learning the difficult truth about her parents and having lived so long without a family, (Y/N) deserved to have a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner with her friends. They all did, really. This has gone on long enough, Loki thought to himself as (Y/N) silently stared down at her plate; after a slight moment of hesitation, Loki got to his feet.

“I’ve done a fair amount of reading about this country’s Day of Thanks, and the custom of expressing what one is thankful for whilst surrounded by their loved ones piqued my interest. So, let’s begin.” Loki swallowed thickly, looking around the table at his teammates’ confused faces before settling on (Y/N)’s. “I’m thankful for you, darling. You came into my life at a time when I believed I could never be deserving of love and you showed me not only was I deserving, but that loving you would make me a better man. You’re the love of my life, and believe me when I say that all our lives have been blessed since meeting you.” Loki and (Y/N) shared a smile and as he turned back to address the others, he felt her take hold of his hand and squeeze. “And I know you may find this difficult to believe, but I am also thankful for all of you. When I first joined the Avengers, I was bitter and filled with resentment at the prospect of serving out my sentence on a planet I despised with people I despised even more. But after a short while, once we’d come to understand one another, you accepted me as your teammate and friend. Well, some of you more than others.” His eyes flicked to Tony, who hid his small smile behind his hand, and to Clint, who gave him a small shrug. “I value our kinship above all else and on this Day of Thanks, I implore you all to remember our bonds with one another. Severing those bonds on account of a petty disagreement is something you all will come to regret in the future; take it from me, I have firsthand experience in that particular department.” He and Thor shared a knowing look as he took a seat; although he wasn’t comfortable expressing his emotions so openly, the look of pride in his brother’s eyes had made it worth it.

The table was quiet for several moments, until Steve cleared his throat. “Well, I’m, ah…I’m thankful that after coming out of the ice to an unrecognizable world I was able to find such great friends and teammates in you all.” His azure eyes flicked hesitantly over to Tony. “We may not get along all the time or agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean we should allow ourselves to become divided.”

Tony’s face remained unchanged throughout Steve’s speech and when he got to his feet, Loki could practically hear the others’ sharp intakes of breath. The billionaire held Steve’s gaze for a heartbeat before offering him his hand over the table with his trademark smirk on his face. “Couldn’t have said it better myself, ‘Roid Rage.” The two men shook hands and the room almost instantly relaxed; Loki exchanged looks of triumph with his co-conspirators as dinner continued, satisfied that their plan had been successfully implemented.

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

“Dinner was delicious, by the way.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, darling, though I’m not sure what the others thought of it.”

“Well, they were a little too distracted to hand out compliments on food, wouldn’t you say?”

The pair had decided to spend the night catching up on their reading but instead of utilizing the library, they had made themselves comfortable in Loki’s bed with their books and plenty of blankets. Loki sat up against the headboard, his legs stretched out across the mattress and his ankles crossed, and (Y/N) was leaning against his side, her head resting comfortable in the crook of his neck and her free arm holding Loki’s around her waist. They sat in comfortable silence as they read their own books, occasionally permeating the tranquil atmosphere with light conversation.

“Um, Loki?”

“Hmm?” Loki could feel (Y/N) shifting beside him, so he tore his eyes away from his book and watched as she marked her page and set her book down on the bedside table. Setting his own book aside, Loki adjusted himself so he could see her face better. “What is it?”

(Y/N) bit her lip and played with the sleeve of her sweatshirt before answering. “We’ve been so busy planning Thanksgiving dinner and trying to get the team back together that we haven’t had a chance to talk about what you said the other day.” Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and the corner of (Y/N)’s mouth twitched. “About wanting to, um, have children. With me.”

“Oh.” Loki felt himself pale; he’d completely forgotten about his slip-up and being reminded of it caused panic to flare in his chest. “I-It was stupid, (Y/N), I just…we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I only meant-”

His explanation was abruptly cut off by (Y/N), who had covered his mouth with her hand and was shaking with suppressed laughter. “I always love those rare moments when you’re the one to get flustered; a little line always forms in between your eyebrows.” She leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss on the spot before moving her hand from his mouth to cup his cheek. “I was surprised by what you said the other day because I didn’t realize that you’ve imagined the same future that I have.” (Y/N) shyly looked down but she reached for his free hand and intertwined their fingers together. “I may not have much experience with relationships, Loki, but I love you with all my heart and if there’s anyone I want to share that wonderful future with someday…well, it’s you.”

A grin slowly formed on Loki’s face; removing one of his hands from hers, he gently took hold of her chin and coaxed her to look at him. “Really?”

She nodded, her (Y/E/C) eyes sparkling with happiness. “Really.”

Surging forward, Loki held her face in his hands and smashed his lips against hers. (Y/N) made a sound of surprise before wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing back with equal vigor; Loki eventually found himself lying flat on his back while (Y/N) straddled his waist, one hand clutching her hip while the other traveled up and down her spine as they kissed. (Y/N) pulled her lips away from his and just as his throat made a noise of protest, she began kissing along his jawline and down his neck; needless to say, his annoyance quickly morphed to groans of satisfaction. Only when her soft lips brushed against a particularly sensitive patch of skin near his collarbone did Loki lose all restraint; he flipped them over so that (Y/N) was pressed against the mattress and after grabbing her hands and threading their fingers together, he held them over her head and hungrily attacked her eager lips with his own until an unfortunate lack of air forced them to break apart.

“I said I’d like children with you someday, Loki, not today!” (Y/N) exclaimed breathlessly, a dazed sort of smile illuminating her face as she looked up at him.

Loki let out a laugh before kissing her forehead and rolling off to lay on his back beside her; try as he might, he couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face. “Apologies, my love, but you’re entirely irresistible. If I’d known there were kisses like that in store for me, I’d have told you all that ages ago…”

Later that evening, (Y/N) was fast asleep against his chest and the sounds of her quiet snores filled the room as he stretched out on the bed in contentment. I suppose there’s only one thing left to do, Loki thought tiredly, pulling (Y/N) closer and glancing over at the bedside table that hid the engagement ring before sleep finally claimed him.

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

A/N: Wow, that was a lot of fluff! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Fifteen

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

#loki x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki #loki odinson #bruce banner #hulk #thor odinson #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #sam wilson #falcon #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #black widow #marvel cinematic universe

[ragewerthers]

Relaxation Therapy

Summary:  Iwa has gotten himself so caught up in his paper that he feels he doesn't have time to relax. Luckily his boyfriends know just the way to get him to listen to reason. A little relaxation therapy is definitely in order!

A/n: Hello there!

This is written for a prompt sent to me from @lady-namo​!

She asked for:

'matsuhanaiwaoi? iwaizumi is really, REALLY stressed by whatever and they try to relax him. actually i don't mind how exactly you do it, i'd just be happy with teasy af mattsun!'

This was so much fun to write as I've never gotten to write these four before, but they are ridiculous and amazing to write banter between! I hope that you enjoy it, my friend!

You can also read on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28599321

Enjoy! :D

Word Count: 3937

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

Iwa growled in frustration as he ran a hand through his hair, staring hard at the readings laid out before him on the kitchen table.

If this civilization wasn’t already lost to history, he would be cursing the ancient Minoans as the texts he looked over spoke of them.  How dare they be so god damn interesting that he decided to write his history paper on their mysterious disappearance?  How dare they lure him into trying to read through dusty old texts that only offered up the same three conclusions each and every time?!  Three conclusions does not a paper make!

With another deep growl he let his head fall to the table with a resounding thud that he immediately regretted more than the Minoans existence.  His pen had been in just the perfect spot for his forehead to land against, sending a nice little shockwave of pain through his forehead and making him reel back in his chair with a shout.  Sadly the force that he’d pushed himself away with was enough to send said chair tilting backwards at lightning speeds and his life flashed before his eyes.

Sadly the only thing his mind supplied was the Minoans.

The bastards.

Squeezing his eyes shut he waited for the cold, hard impact of the floor, but soon just found himself suspended mid-air.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he let his eyes peek open only to be met with the amused and gentle smile of Mattsun.

“Issei?” Iwa said a little dumbly, having thought his boyfriends were still out of the apartment for a grocery run.  When Oikawa was involved this usually meant that the trip could last hours and it felt like they’d only just left a few minutes ago.  Oikawa shouting something sassy from the hall, Hana rolling his eyes and Mattsun promising that they wouldn’t lose Tooru… again.

Now, it seemed, they had all returned just in time to see the Minoans attempting to take him out with his own pen.

“The one and only.  Appears we didn’t get back too late for me to be your knight in shining armor, Hajime,” the taller man said lightly, ducking down to press a careful kiss to the red line already starting to appear over Iwa’s forehead.

“What was that thud we heard when we came in, Iwa?” Hana called, carrying in at least four grocery bags collected on his arms and trying to carefully place them on the table and avoid Iwa’s work.

“Yeah, Iwa-chan!  Mattsun literally jumped the sofa to get in here when he heard you yelp,” Oikawa said with a teasing smirk, putting his own single bag of shopping right on top of Iwa’s work and spreading out his papers even more.

Matsukawa quirked an eyebrow at Oikawa before carefully setting Iwa’s chair back down on the floor.

“This coming from the man who literally elbowed Hana in the face trying to unlock the door when we heard the commotion in the hall.  Don’t act all cool and collected now,” Mattsun teased, watching as Oikawa’s ears tinged red and he puffed his cheeks out into a pout.

“I did no such thing!  I know Iwa-chan is more than capable of handling himself in any situation,” Oikawa huffed, turning around and heading back toward the living room to drop off his coat, scarf and shoes.

“I thought he was going to cry,” Hana whispered to Iwa as he passed by with a few frozen pizza’s in hand, apparently deciding to put away their frozens before taking off his things.  Though he also seemed incapable of dropping a kiss to Iwa’s brow before continuing on and making the man's cheeks warm up more at all of this attention.  Though the thought of Oikawa blubbering in the hallway did make him chuckle a bit.

Soon Iwa felt a strong hand lightly starting to massage the back of his neck and the chuckling instantly quieted down into a soft hum of content.  Closing his eyes, he tilted his head forward reflexively, feeling the way Mattsun’s hand worked its way up to his hairline before soothing gently circles back down toward his shoulder.

“You still didn’t answer the question though, Hajime,” Mattsun said softly as he watched Iwa slowly melt in front of him from the simple contact.  “But if I had to guess, I’d say this paper is putting up a fight?”

Iwa gave a little nod, though he tried to stay as still as possible to enjoy the gentle attention he was receiving.  “The Minoans have decided to haunt me from their graves.  But be careful what you think of them.  They’ll attack you with pens and tipped over chairs,” he grumbled, getting a little snort from Hana who was somewhere near the cupboards now.

“They also seem to be able to turn your muscles into nothing but knots and stone,” Matsukawa murmured softly, bringing his other hand up to start massaging along Hajimes shoulders properly and earning himself a deep groan of pain and contentment.  “Why don’t you take a break?  When the ghosts of dead civilizations start to attack, it’s usually a sign you need to take a step back.”

“Did I hear that right?  Iwa-chan is allowing papers to attack him now?” Oikawa cooed as he came back in, grabbing one of the other grocery bags and the table and carrying it to the counter.  “That’s what turned Issei into a track star?”

“And you into a panicked mother hen?” Hana teased, getting a swat to his arm with a bag of milk bread Oikawa had moments before had cuddled to his chest like a gift from heaven.

Iwa blinked his eyes open to give him a little half-hearted glare.  “No, Shitty-kawa.  I just… got a little stuck in my thesis and it got away from me a bit.  But I’ll still conquer this paper.  I just have to focus more,” he mumbled before giving a little whimper as Mattsun’s fingers kneaded deeper into the muscles of his shoulder.

“Hajime, I can actually feel your muscles coiling up again as you speak,” Mattsun murmured in his calming baritone.  “I think it would do you some good to take a small break with us.  Just a little breather to get your thoughts refocused?” “I can’t,” Iwa said quietly, a little scowl starting to reappear over his features.  “I only have a couple of days to get this all sorted out and I know that if I keep going I’ll be able to break through this little writer's block I have.  I’m sorry, but… maybe later once I get some thoughts on paper I can take a break with you all.”  Leaning forward slightly, Iwa gently broke the wonderful contact of Mattsun’s hands from his shoulders. He could hear a little exhale of air from behind him as he picked his pen back up and knew that wasn’t what the man had wanted to hear, but it’s what he needed to do. Reaching forward he began to try and reorganize his papers from the mess Oikawa had made of them.

“Oh Mattsun-kun.  You should know better than trying to get through to Iwa with gentle words,” Oikawa said as he drew closer to the table.

“Yeah, Mattsun,” Hana teased from his spot by the sink, turning to watch with a little smirk playing over his lips, his arms crossed over his chest.  “You know that Hajime is only just slightly less stubborn than Tooru.”

Iwa grumbled at that, hunching his shoulders to try and ignore his boyfriends talking about him as if he wasn’t there.  ‘ Now where did that pen go? ’

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” Oikawa chuckled and Iwa could hear him moving around the table to stand next to Issei.  “But… if there’s something I’ve learned about our sweet Iwa-chan it’s that there are better ways of getting your point across.”

Sadly, Iwa was now starting to get back into what he hoped was a groove for this paper and didn’t notice the shared look between his three ridiculous partners.

“That’s right,” Mattsun said, his voice still sounding measured even as the hint of amusement tinged his words.

“Gentle words aren’t enough,” Hanamaki agreed, his voice sounding closer and making Iwa hunch more into himself.  God, why didn’t he grab his earbuds to drown out these idiots ?

“That’s right,” Oikawa’s voice purred, making the back of Iwa’s neck prickle slightly.  “Hajime needs to be persuaded out of his bullheadedness…,”

“Pfft… you’re one to talk, Trashy-kawAHAHA!” Iwa startled as he felt two strong hands send a couple quick squeezes against his lower ribs, making him jolt out of his seat and sending some of his books and papers tumbling down to the floor.  Turning around he saw Oikawa’s hands still extended forward, Hana and Mattsun flanking either side of him with twin looks of mischief and determination on their faces.

The world seemed to pause in time for a few heartbeats as Iwa’s eyes looked over the three of them… his mind racing to catch up with what was happening when all of a sudden the moment of stillness was broken with two words.

“Get him.”

Hana and Mattsuns smiles turned devious as each of them took flight.  Taking off from either side of Oikawa to race around the table toward Iwa and looking for all the world like those evil winged hell monkeys the wicked witch of the west had sent off after Dorothy.

Though to be fair, Oikawa’s accompanying menacing cackle would’ve even sent a shiver down that witch’s spine! Iwa instantly turned and ran out of the kitchen and toward the hall, his heart beating thunderously in his chest as he realized what sort of doom awaited him if he were caught.

“Fly my pretties!  Fly!!!” Oikawa cried from a little further down the hall as Iwa heard Mattsun and Hana slowly starting to catch up to him as they neared the living room.

Oh yeah… Oikawa was never allowed to watch the Wizard of Oz again!

“Get the hell away from me!” Iwa called over his shoulder, only hearing a rumbling laugh far closer than he expected.

“Sorry, Hajime… not gonna happen!” Mattsun called back, his fingers just brushing the back of Hajime’s shirt and making Iwa yelp as he raced around one side of the coffee table… only to find the pair once more splitting up to give chase.

“Damn it!” Iwa shouted, though he was surprised to find the barest hint of a smile tugging up at the corners of his lips from this stupidity!  “Kn-Knock it off!  I’m trying to get some work done!  OOF!”

Iwa had glanced behind him for only a second and that was apparently all it took for Oikawa to make his grand entrance, quickly catching Iwa up in his embrace as he attempted to make a break for it toward their bedroom.

“Oh, what have we here?” Oikawa cooed in that far too smug voice, practically bearhugging Iwa to his chest.  “Why... I think it’s someone in desperate need of a study break!”

“I told you!  I don’t neheheed a breahahahak!  AH!  Stahp it!” Iwa instantly bit down on his lower lip as growly giggles already started to bubble up from his chest.  Oikawa’s fingers dug lightly into that spot under his lower ribs making his legs already feel like jelly as his body tried to twist away from the tingly touch. “Was that grumpy and sassy Iwa just now?” Hana teased as he and Mattsun drew closer.

“M’nahahat!” Iwa giggled despite his best efforts, a little yelp escaping as he felt a third hand reaching up to lightly tickle against the side of his neck as another hand began to squeeze near his hip.

“What was that, Iwa-chan?  Did you just say you weren’t being grumpy?  Because I’m positive I heard you trying to defy me and not take a break,” Oikawa murmured back dangerously as Iwa tried to weakly swat at the hands seeming to come at him from all angles.

“Stahahahap it!  I… I hahahave to gehehet back!” Iwa gasped out between giggles, soon finding himself being lifted off the ground as another pair of arms wrapped around him.

“Oh no.  I think you are in desperate need of a bit of relaxation therapy,” Mattsun said softly, seeming to be the one doing most of the lifting now before Iwa found himself unceremoniously dropped onto their sofa.

Before he could sit up he found Oikawa already straddling his thighs, Mattsun pinning his wrists overhead and Hana settled on his calves.

“And if I remember correctly, a little bit of laughter can go a long way in helping someone relax,” Mattsun teased.  The look in his eyes instantly making Iwa try to wriggle his hands free from the former blockers grasp.

“No!  R-Really!  You guys don’t have to do thi-HIHIhihihis!  Hahahana nohohoho!“ Iwa gasped out as he felt the light scribbling of fingers against his arches, his legs trying to weakly kick out, but with Oikawa and Hana both settled on his lower half he knew he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Oikawa turned to catch a glimpse of Hana’s focused attention on Iwa’s poor feet, chuckling at the reaction it was already causing.  Turning around he caught Issei’s eyes and gave him a devilish smile as he listened to Iwa’s giggles already bubbling up so sweetly. “Well, Mattsun-kun… we can’t let Hana have all the fun.  We need to be here to help our sweet, Iwa-chan too!” he teased, his fingers sneaking under Hajime’s shirt to start lightly fluttering along the sides of his tum, just barely scribbling as they moved lower and lower toward his hips.

“NO!  NO nahahahat my hihihips, Tooruhuhuhu!” Iwa squeaked out, his body already starting to shimmy side to side in the hope to block some of what was to come. “Oh, Hajime,” Mattsun crooned in his deep voice.  “I think you have so much more to be worried about then just your hips.” Iwa only had a moment to try to register what Mattsun was saying before he felt the man's fingers settling on one particular rib on his left side.  His eyes instantly widened and he began to squirm more as he knew what was coming. “WaitwaitwaitwaAHAHAHAGAHAHAD!  NOAHAHAHA!” Iwa instantly cried out as Mattsun began massaging and vibrating his fingers deeply against that particular rib.  Years ago he had cracked it during a match and a bad collison and somehow upon healing it had managed to become far too sensitive to even the lightest touches.  He regretted ever letting these bastards find out about this particular weakness!

“I think Iwa is really enjoying his study break!  Look at how big he’s smiling!” Mattsun called over Hajime’s laughter, bringing his hand up to flutter against one of his exposed armpits and making the poor man try to tug his arms free once more.

“Look at that sweet blush!  Oh Iwa-chan I wish I had my phone to capture this!” Oikawa crooned softly, his hands moving to settle into the little dips of Hajimes hips, his thumbs starting to rub deep, quick circles right against the hyper ticklish spot and nearly sending himself and Hana flying off the sofa with the way Iwa jolted.

“NO PLEHEHEHEASE!  I CAHAN’T!  I CAHAHAN’T!” Iwa cackled wildly as Oikawa’s thumbs found a rhythm that had him bouncing what little he could on the sofa.  His head was tossed back against one of the throw pillows and his entire body felt like one giant sensitive spot. Hana snickered from where he was lightly tracing his fingers over Iwa’s socked arches, making the man's toes curl and his feet twitch from the light contact.  “Can’t what?  Escape?  We know that already, silly Iwa,” Hana teased, finding a nice little spot right in the center of his partners arches that seemed to make the poor guy shriek. “Oh!  I think I definitely have the best spot!”

Tooru huffed from his spot on Hajime, looking down at the mans face already turning pink from laughter.  His own hands had paused as the light tickles to his feet from Hanamaki seemed to be driving him into hysterical giggles.

“That’s not fair, Hajime!  How come you let Hana have your best spot?  You always told me it was your hips!  Were you lying to me, Iwa-chan?” he asked with mock suspicion, narrowing his eyes and fighting a smile as his hands gave Iwa’s hips a few warning squeezes.

“NO!  NO Tooruhuhu!  I… I didn’t lie! I dihihihihidn’t!  AHahahagahahad!” Iwa cackled, turning his head into his outstretched arm to try and hide a snort that escaped him when the squeezes turned into scribbling fingers that raced up his sides before quick and nimble fingers began to vibrate over his tum.

“Hmmm… I don’t know.  Sounds like this is also a good spot!  Have you been hiding them on me?!” Oikawa gasped dramatically, though this time he didn’t bother hiding the soft smile he had on his face as Iwa laughed so brightly and openly.

Mattsun had paused his own tickling as well as he watched Iwa losing himself to his laughter from the other two.  His goal had been to make Iwa relax and really this was already having the desired effect.  Iwa’s brow was no longer furrowed in grumpiness, his expression soft and bright with laughter pouring out of him.

However, this didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to truly drive home how much Iwa deserved this and how much he needed to listen to his boyfriends every once in a while.

“Oh, Hajime.  I think you were keeping secrets from us,” Mattsun teased as he lightly fluttered his fingers against his right armpit and then his left, making Iwa jump with each soft attack, his giggles always intensifying when he did it.

“Nehehehever!  I w-wouldn’t!  I prohohomihihihihise!” Iwa squeaked out, his laughter already starting to become quieter as he neared his limit.  Unlike Tooru, who seemed to gain energy during their tickle attacks on him, Iwa always seemed to have one big burst of energy before becoming absolutely compliant in their arms.

Mattsun chuckled at that and shook his head.  “Hmm… I don’t know… you’re getting pretty jumpy with these tickles here.  I think the best way to make sure you aren’t hiding any more secrets from your boyfriends is to attack all these good spots at once.  What do you guys think?” he asked, watching as Oikawa and Hana both perked up with bright smiles, their resounding ‘YES!’s’ easily covering up Iwa’s frantically giggled ‘NO!’

“I think the majority wins!  Ready, Hajime?” Mattsun murmured fondly, though judging from the way the man was already giggling so hard his cheeks were turning pink he knew he wasn’t about to get a proper answer.  “Then here we go, on the count of three!  One!” he counted, fingers wiggling just above Iwa’s torso and making him shiver.

“Two!” Hana called, letting both of his index fingers zip up Iwa’s soles in warning of what was to come, a startled squeal and wriggle the only answer from Hajime.

Oikawa glanced down at his Iwa, watching as the man peeked his eyes out from where he had been trying to hide against his arm, his smile bright, carefree, but still with that little bit of challenge behind them.

Oikawa’s smile grew at that in return.  Never one to take a challenge lightly.

“Three!” he cried, and instantly, all of their hands were on the attack… and Iwa lost his mind.

Hanamaki’s fingers scribbled and traced all of his soles, moving from his arches to under his toes and drawing out the ugliest snorts Iwa had ever heard himself make. Tooru’s fingers exacted lethal attacks against his stomach, sides and hips.  His fingers would massage and vibrate against the bones of his hips before moving up to massage deep circles against his lower ribs and then moving to scuttle around and vibrate against his sides and tum making him bounce and jump at the deeply ticklish touches.

And finally there was Mattsun, the instigator to all of this if Iwa had to name someone.  He’d abandoned his hold on his wrists to use both hands to attack his upper ribs and armpits with fluttering fingers and scribbles that had made Iwa shriek before dissolving into wild and carefree laughter.

His arms had instantly clamped down on Mattsun’s hands and he tried for all his worth to try and wiggle away or curl into the sofa, but there was no escaping three evil boyfriends hellbent on teasing him into relaxation and oblivion all in one.

“NOHOHOAHAHAHA!  PLEHEHEHEASE I… I CAHAHAHAN’T!  IHIHIT TIHIHICKLES SO BAHAHAHAD!” Iwa cried out through his hysterical laughter, his mind completely taken over by nothing but ticklish sensations and absolutely nothing left to remind him of his earlier troubles, the Minoans, the paper… nothing but how terribly his boyfriends were wrecking and how much it tickled! “Do you think Iwa’s had enough?” Mattsun chuckled, already starting to slow his tickles as Oikawa and Hana both smiled softly at Iwa.  Even their fingers started to turn from terrible tickles to lightly soothing over those spots.

“I think Iwa has learned his lesson,” Oikawa cooed softly, his hands soothing against his boyfriends sides as Iwa slowly regained back some sanity, giggling and panting even as he felt the tickles starting to subside.

“L-Lehehesson?” he giggled, voice a little hoarse from his laughter as Mattsun nodded. “Yes.  To listen to your boyfriends.  To take a break.  To enjoy some relaxation therapy.  To not take your papers so seriously they almost hurt you,” Mattsun listed off, carefully removing his hands from under Iwa’s arms and making him shiver before starting to sooth his fingers through his messy hair.  “This is really all we wanted to achieve, Hajime.  For you to have a moment to just let loose and step away from those things that were stressing you.  Apparently we can only get that across that stubborn brain of yours with some well placed tickles.” Iwa felt his cheeks flushing a bit, giving a little hum and closing his eyes as his breathing started to calm more and more as he felt the gentle touches now moving over him.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen sooner,” he chuckled, melting a little more as Oikawa began to lightly massage down his arms and Hana moved, lifting Iwa’s legs so that he could sneak to sit on the sofa, letting them rest in his lap so he could soothe along his feet, ankles and calves as well.  

“No need to apologize, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmured softly, ducking down to press a few soft kisses against his boyfriends pink cheeks before carefully moving off of him, sitting beside the sofa as he watched Iwa starting to relax more and more.  “Besides… we achieved what we wanted.  You’re relaxing and taking a breather now, right?  So we’re really all winners here.”

Iwa gave a gentle, tired chuckle at that, his eyes already closing as he was pampered so lovingly by them all.

“Re… Remind me… to do this… more often,” Iwa murmured, his voice already growing softer as sleep carefully called to him after his intense tickle attack.

“I think we can do that,” Mattsun murmured fondly, giving Iwa a soft tickle behind his ear, making the man giggle softly before his breathing evened out and soft snores could soon be heard.

If this was the end result of their efforts to get Iwa to relax, they would definitely have no problem reminding him time and time again.

#haikyuu! #my fics #tickle fic #matsuhanaiwaoi #matsukawa issei #iwaizumi hajime #oikawa tooru #hanamaki takahiro #I hope you enjoy this my friend! #I'm sorry it took me YEARS #it was a lot of fun to write though! #These boys are ridiculous and hilarious to banter with!

[jean-kayak]

I Fell For You, No Literally

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend comes walking back into your life, causing a whole bunch of emotions to resurface

Pairing: Terushima Yuuji x black!fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of past relationships, like two handfuls of angst, real fluffy at the end, A LOT of dialogue at the end, Terushima being soft, brief mentions of sickness (like real brief), hurt/comfort, exes-to-lovers?, a huge misunderstanding, it gets really stressful at one point in this thing, implied past reader x oc, smut!, fingering (f. receiving), oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, squirting, overstimulation, little bit of aftercare, Terushima has a dick piercing LMAO, domestic things, mentions of alcohol consumption (reader gets drunk), it’s basically an emotional rollercoaster, Terushima being suggestive *sighs* i think i covered everything

Word Count: 12,881 (BITCH im sorry it wasn’t supposed to be this long)

A/N: This was originally going to be apart of the writing event that I was doing, but this was really long, and it took me a little bit longer than I thought so I figured I would just do it separately. And also I tried to do fluffy smut, I don’t really know if I did that lmao. But anyways, enjoy! 

P.S.: I also gave the reader a name bc this is really long!

All characters are 18+!!

"I think I have more lights in the back, I'll go get them," your best friend tells you, and you nod as you continue to hang up the lights on the top of your shop.

Although you realize your mistake when you lean over, and the ladder starts to slip. "Shit," you whisper, and you feel your heart drop, fear coursing through your body as you feel the ladder going down and not stopping.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact on the freezing cold concrete, but it never comes. "Oh, my God, are you okay?!" It's a deeper voice, and you open your eyes to see that you're nowhere near the ground and that you're in someone's arms.

You're still a bit shaken from the fear of the fall, but the voice and the scent are all too familiar and it brings you back fairly quickly. You look up and see a face that you never thought you'd see again.

"You know, I'd always say you'd fallen for me," he quips, and you roll your eyes as you try to squirm out of his grip. "Wait, where you going? I like holding you like this." You chuckle softly as you roll your eyes playfully, and he lets you down. "But seriously, are you okay?"

You release a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for saving me, Terushima."

He takes a few steps closer to you. "Come on, baby, you don't have to be so formal with me." You scoff as you take a step back, fully taking him in.

Terushima Yuuji. Your ex-boyfriend. Your relationship lasted all through high school and your first year of college until things went rocky. You prefer not to think about the details, but you can't not think about how good he looks right now.

He's still blond, with the undercut, and piercings, and even through his winter clothes, you can tell he's filled out a lot since you last saw him. Matter of fact, how long has it been? Three, four years?

"Three and a half," you flinch slightly. Shit, were you thinking out loud? His eyes rake down your figure, and even in the cold, you can feel the heat course through your body. "You look good."

"So do you," you reply, not really knowing what to say. How are you even supposed to talk to your exes? You've had others besides him, but you haven't made contact with them since you called it off.

There's a weird tension in the air, and you don't know what to say to break it, but luckily Kiya comes out of your shop, her eyes widening when they land on Terushima. "Oh, now, this is a surprise," she says, smirking as she looks between the two of you. "What brings you here?"

"Oh, you know, just being her knight in shining armor and catching her from falling off the ladder," he tells her smugly, and she looks at you in horror.

"Via, what did I tell you about doing things on the ladder without me watching you?" she scolds, and you shrug as you kick at the ground.

"I'm sorry, okay? And besides, I think that's enough lights for the front don't you think?" you ask, looking at the front of the shop to take in your work. Kiya follows suit, taking in the lights.

"Yeah, they look good. And I would tell you good job, but you almost killed yourself in the process." You roll your eyes again as you scoff. "Thank you, Terushima," she says, and he waves her off.

"Any time." So he still has that smug, confident personality. That hasn't changed much. You clear your throat as you gesture to the door.

"Well, I should probably open up shop. Thank you, Terushima, I really appreciate you catching me."

"C'mon, what'd I tell you about the name?" You tilt your head as you raise an eyebrow.

"See ya around, Terushima." And you're walking through the door.

Kiya comes in behind you a few seconds later, and you just brace yourself for the conversation that's about to happen and is going to last at least twenty minutes. "Holy crap, he is still hot as hell." You sigh as you put on your apron. You don't respond, and she knows you're agreeing with her, so he continues talking.

"No, Kiya, don't even go there."

"What? What's wrong with rekindling the flame, at least a little?"

"You remember how we left off," you remind her, and you see her wave you off before washing her hands.

"Okay, that was a few years ago. People change."

You scoff. "Yeah, I doubt he's changed." The conversation is quickly put to bed as people start to come in, and you submerge yourself in your cooking.

This week was your shopping week, but Kiya had family things so you're at the store by yourself, collecting a ton of food to stockpile for the shop. You feel a headache coming on as you cross out another item off the list, your vision full of lines every time you look up from the crumpled piece of paper.

You also have to carry and put all of these groceries in your car, and you want to whine in annoyance, that headache starting to beat behind your eyelids, and the cold isn't helping either. "You look like you could use some help, m'lady." You sigh heavily, recognizing the voice immediately.

"You're not following me are you, Terushima?" you ask, playfully, but a part of you is serious.

"Of course not, but it seems that whenever you're in trouble, I'm always around." You let out a surprised laugh, but you don't turn your attention to him, keeping it focused on putting the groceries in your car. "Let me help you," he offers, already moving to grab a bag, but you stop him.

"I got it, it's fine. Thanks anyway," you quickly tell him before catching your breath and starting again.

"Via, seriously, let me help you." Your movements falter at the nickname. Even though everyone calls you that, it always sounded different coming from him. You want to scoff at how easily your body reacted to it. You don't have the energy to fight, so you scoot over, giving him enough room to help pile the bags in your car. "So, you have your own shop," he starts, and is he really trying to make casual conversation right now?

"Yeah, I do," you respond, deciding to partake in whatever this is.

"American, right?" he asks, and you hate how he still remembers, and you drop the bag into your car a little bit more aggressively.

"Yeah. We have Japanese as well, but Kiya knows more about that than I do." He helps you put the last bag in, closing the trunk shut and returning the shopping cart.

"Well, that's great. I'm happy for you," he tells you when he gets back, and you nod as you purse your lips.

"Thanks." And there's that awkward tension again. Why was he trying to act like everything was normal? Why is he talking to you like nothing happened between you two? "Listen, Te--" You're cut off by his phone ringing, and he quickly fishes his phone out of his pocket and grimacing when he looks at the screen.

"I have to take this, uh--"

You cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Go ahead, it's okay. Thanks again," you say, quickly signaling the end of whatever this conversation was. You don't give him another look, turning around and getting into your car, thankful that it's still warm. You crank the car up and you look out the window as you do, seeing Terushima walking away on the phone.

You rest your forehead against the steering wheel. What are the fucking chances that he out of all people would walk back into your life? You take another deep breath. Thinking about it too much will only make your headache worse. You give him one last glance before driving off, hoping that you're actually getting away from him this time.

~

"You saw him again at the store?" Kiya asks, her eyes wide as she sits up on the couch. You roll your eyes from exhaustion as you stab your fork into your takeout.

"Yes, he said it's like whenever I'm in trouble, he's always around." You stab your food again, but you don't know if it's out of annoyance or anger this time.

"Okay, Via, come on, this is like a sign, isn't it?" You give her a look before shaking your head. "Why not?"

"Kiya, you were there through all of it. He's...he's not--he's probably still the same," you say, trailing off quietly, and Kiya's face turns into concern as she finally sees that the hurt you've tried to push back down is now coming to the surface. She moves closer to you on the couch before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into her.

"You're right. I'm sorry, I just thought, maybe this one could be different. Different from those other douches you were seeing." You huff slightly, a smile forming on your face as you remember everything she said about what she didn't like about every last one of your exes.

Some of them were just flings, others could've easily gone further, but they always broke it off. You don't really know the reason, but you've sort of come to terms with it. Maybe dating just isn't your thing right now. "Yeah, I know," you say, burrowing yourself further into her embrace. "It's just, I don't know, what if it happens all over again?"

"If that does happen again, then I'll actually kill him this time." Both of you laugh at her words before she speaks up again. "But, all that aside, it's up to you what you want to do. Don't listen to me, I'm just the crazy best friend."

Your smile grows wider. "Crazy, you definitely are."

"Hey!" she says, shoving you away playfully, and you both dive back into laughter as you finish your takeout and the cheesy rom-com playing on the TV.

You sigh as you wipe off the bar counter, the shop quiet due to the fact that you're about an hour and a half from closing. You usually enjoy the serenity, grateful that it's not a rush like it is during mid-morning, lunch, and dinner. Around this time, you and Kiya usually get a chance to sit down and take a break.

You finish scrubbing off a stubborn stain on the counter when you hear the door open. "Welcome, I'll be with you in a moment," you greet out of habit without even looking up as you turn around to throw the rag into the sink.

"The place looks great." The familiar voice almost makes you stop in your tracks, but you recover quickly, wiping your hands off on a towel before turning to see Terushima sitting in the middle of the bar counter. You walk over to him, standing right in front of the counter, feeling like the counter isn't a big enough gap between the two of you.

"Thank you," you tell him honestly as you plant your hands on the edge of the counter. "What can I get for you?"

He smirks at you before he answers. "We both know you already know what I want," he says confidently, and you want to punch yourself because of the fact that you still know what his favorite food is even after you've been broken up.

"Coming right up." You turn around quickly, getting started on his order so that you can get him out of here as fast as possible before Kiya can see him. Unfortunately, that isn't the case, and she comes waltzing in from her office, her eyebrows raised high.

"Oh?" she starts, her voice a whisper. "What's he doing here?" she asks, and you shrug.

"I dunno. He just walked in here like a few minutes ago." You turn your head to look at him over his shoulder, and you see that he's taken off his coat and rolled up his sleeves. You notice that he's got a tattoo on his left arm that snakes all around his upper arm. Yeah, he's definitely gotten bigger since you've last seen him.

He looks up from his phone, catching you in the act, and he smirks at you before flexing his muscles, and your face heats up quickly, your head turning back to what you're doing. "He actually ordered something?" Kiya asks playfully with a huff, and you return it as you flip the patty.

"Yeah, I was surprised too. I thought he'd be here to bother me again," you admit.

"Which is what you would've wanted, right?" she teases, and you shove at her which makes her laugh, and yours soon follows.

"You guys talking about me?" you hear him speak up, and you roll your eyes with a scoff as you glance at him.

"Yeah," Kiya starts, "we were talking about how we could've closed up early if it weren't for you," she tells him, and you chuckle softly as you continue cooking.

"Well, I had to try the food for myself," he responds, and Kiya hums as she nods, obviously believing that he's not telling the entire truth. She starts to walk away back towards her office, but not before she nudges you softly, wiggling her eyebrows at you. You give her a look before waving her off.

Once she's left, you shudder lightly, feeling his eyes on you. You know he's watching you and everything you're doing. His eyes never leave you, watching you as you move along through the kitchen. You can't remember the last time you felt so heated under someone's gaze.

But you do remember that it took absolutely nothing for you to melt for him, and you internally shake the thoughts that are starting to pool into your head. You finish his food, sliding the plate to him softly, his drink following shortly. "Enjoy," you tell him easily, and he starts speaking before you can turn around.

"Thanks, but I think there's something that I want that's not on the menu." You roll your eyes, knowing what he's implying, but you play dumb anyway, leaning forward on the counter, resting your chin in your palm.

"Oh, and what would that be?" you ask, and he's leaning in, his face dangerously close to yours. He moves his eyes from yours to your lips before bringing them back up to your eyes. You feel your breath starting to pick up, your mouth falling open slightly, but you don't move away from him. You can't.

And then he's smirking at you again, and your knees almost give out. "You."

There's a knock on the door, and you let out an exasperated sigh that echoes throughout the walls of your apartment. You grab the baby currently sitting on the floor in the middle of your living room as another knock comes from the door. "I'm coming! Just give me a second!" you yell, your thin patience starting to disappear.

You walk to the door, yanking it open, getting ready to yell at whoever is presently throwing a monkey wrench into your day. "What are you doing here?" you deadpan, blinking a few times in confusion as you take in Terushima standing outside your apartment. "Actually, how do you even know where I live?"

He has the actual audacity to look sheepish as he rubs the back of his neck as he looks down. "I may or may not have gotten it from Kiya." You roll your eyes. Of course, it would be her. You really are going to kill her. Your niece starts fussing and you sigh. You really don't have time for this right now.

"If you wanna come in, come in," you rush out as you make your way back into your apartment. You vaguely hear the sound of the door closing and some footsteps, but you pay the sounds no mind as you set your niece in her high chair.

The first thing Terushima didn't expect when the door swung open was for you to have a baby in your arms. That alone almost distracted him from how you looked. Your hair was thrown together in a ponytail, curls falling out of it. Your shirt is covered in all kinds of stains, along with the sweatpants you're currently wearing, but Terushima thinks that you look amazing.

He slips off his coat and his shoes, throwing his scarf over his jacket before slowly making his way into the kitchen where you disappeared to. He takes in your apartment, the decorating and furnishing matching your personality to a T. The sound of fussing brings his attention to the baby that you were holding not too long ago, and he hears you speak.

"I know you're hungry, sweet girl," you say, opening the fridge. "What do you want?" you ask her even though you know she can't respond. Terushima smiles fondly as he sits down next to her, resting his arms on the island in front of him. "You want bananas?" You lift your head to look at her, and when she fusses, you try again. "How about peas and carrots?" Both her and Terushima's face screw up, and you smile softly as you turn back towards the fridge.

"Let's see," you bend over to look further into the fridge, and his eyes zero in on your ass before he snaps himself out of it. "Strawberries?" you ask hopeful, and when she laughs lightly, you smile before pulling out the container and warming it up with your hands as you bump the fridge closed.

You walk over to a drawer, opening it to pull out a small spoon before bumping it closed with your hip. The movement makes your boobs sway, and Terushima can't help but notice that he can see your nipples through your thin t-shirt. "Eyes up here, perv." Your words jolt him out of his spell, and he smirks at you as he shrugs.

"What can I say? They're nice tits." You scoff at his words, trying to fight the heat rising in your cheeks that he was checking you out, and it dawns on you how you actually look right now. You feel a little bit embarrassed, but the damage is already been done, and could you really blame yourself? You've been watching a baby all day.

Satisfied with your reaction, he turns to your niece, leaning forward to pinch her cheek softly, which makes her laugh. "And who is this pretty lady?" he asks as you smile at the interaction before walking to stand at the opposite side of the island.

"This is my niece, MJ." You set down the container of mushed food, taking off the lid before swirling around the food. You look up to see Terushima hold out a finger which she immediately grabs onto, and she smiles widely at him. "She seems to like you," you comment, feeling conflicted at the way your heart skips at their interactions. "You wanna feed her?"

You push the bowl his way, and he picks up the spoon with his other hand, his finger on his hand still being held hostage by your niece's hand. He feeds her with ease, and she even seems to be accepting the food a lot better from him than from you. "Do you think you could watch her while I get in the shower?" you ask. "I'll be quick, I promise."

"Yeah, go ahead. We'll be fine," he tells you without even looking your way.

"Are you sure?"

He finally looks at you after wiping some of the food off of her face with the spoon. "I'm sure, Via. I can handle it. Go do what you need to do." He quickly turns his attention back to MJ, and you quickly dart out of the kitchen making your way to your room.

You've been in the shower for about ten minutes, and the only thing Terushima keeps thinking about is the water running down your naked body, and he keeps shaking his head, forcing the images out of his head.

MJ's already eaten all of the food, and Terushima lightly presses on her stomach, seeing that she's completely full, and he looks around to see all of her toys in the living room. He finds the baby wipes, cleaning her up before he takes her out of the high chair and carries her to the living room.

He sets her down on the blanket you have out for her, and she immediately moves towards one of the toys as he sits on the floor next to her. Terushima's plan was mostly to bother you when he came over, and the last thing he expected was for him to be babysitting. He doesn't mind it though, he'll take any time he can spend with you. He'll take as much as he can in order to try to get you back.

He doesn't really know why he came to America, but part of him knows it was because of you. He knows that after you both graduated college, you moved back here and started your own shop. He hates how things ended between the two of you, and he wants to fix it, but he knows he's going to work hard especially because of how bad he hurt you.

He's been punching himself for three and a half years because of how stupid he was back then. If he could back in time and punch himself, he would curb stomp himself instead. He notices that he doesn't hear the water running anymore, and then he hears a door open. And he thought the clothes you had on before made you look good.

You walk out into the living room, your hair damp from the shower, and you're wearing a tank top and shorts, and he's glad you have a bra on this time. You're definitely not the same girl he dated back then. At all. "She wasn't too much trouble?" Your words jolt him out of his trance, and he forces himself to look at your eyes.

"No, she was not," he says, standing up before picking her up. He plants a small kiss on her head, but she's preoccupied with the toy in her hands to notice. "She was an angel." You sigh in relief, and Terushima moves her higher up on his hip. "Were you cooking something before I got here?" he asks, recalling something smelling really good vaguely filling his nostrils. Now, that smell has been replaced by your scent due to the fact you're standing so close to him.

"I was," you say, turning to walk into the kitchen, and he follows behind you while MJ smacks him in the face. "It was a new recipe," you continue, opening the oven. Terushima almost delays his response, his eyes zeroing on your ass again, but he manages to catch himself.

"New recipe for what?" he asks, and he's thankful when you stand up straight even though it's not that much better. When you set the pan down on the stove, you glance behind you nervously before speaking.

"It was a new recipe for cheeseburgers," you say, and he almost misses it, but he smirks as he walks around the island to stand beside you. You'd been keeping the burgers in the oven to keep them warm, and he looks down at them.

"They look really good," he comments. "You weren't thinking about me, were ya?" He has to jab at you, loving your reaction as you glare at him before looking down. "Can I try it?" he asks, and you nod before getting a knife to cut the burger in half. You grab a piece, bringing it to his mouth, and he puts the whole piece in his mouth, making sure to wraps his lips around your fingers briefly before pulling away.

The action has you feeling things that you shouldn't, and the moan he releases while he closes his eyes doesn't help either. "Oh, my God, that is amazing."

You feel your heart flutter at the compliment. "Really?" you ask softly, and he looks at you like you're crazy.

"Are you serious? This is the best thing I've ever tasted." He grabs the other half, stuffing it in his mouth before you can stop him. "Wow, you really are an amazing cook." You hate how easily your face heats up at the praise, and you just respond with a shrug. He reaches for another burger, and you grab his wrist before he can grab another one.

"You can't eat all of these!" you chastise. "I can make you some if you want me to." He uses the fact that you're still holding onto his wrist as an advantage, yanking his arm forward which causes you to bump into him. He barely moves, just wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you close to him.

"That sounds good. Thanks." You both lose yourselves in each other's eyes, time seeming to slow down as you feel your body going warm all over. God, you both missed being close to each other like this. You feel yourself starting to lean closer to him, your breaths started to mingle when MJ cries out, startling the both of you out of the spell you were in.

You jump away from him as you slightly shake your head. You did not almost kiss him. You quickly turn your attention to your niece, plucking her from his arm before walking back to the living room. Terushima sighs heavily as he puts the tray back into the oven, giving himself something to do to try to distract himself.

What would've happened if he had kissed you? Would you have kissed him back, or would you have pushed him away? He knows he's making some progress, but he doesn't know if kissing you would've ruined all of that. Do you want to kiss him? He sure wants to kiss you. He hasn't felt your lips on his in so long, and he wants to feel them so bad.

He forces those thoughts out of his head, and just as he's about to walk back into the living room, there's a knock on the door. "I'll get it," he tells you when he sees you about to stand up. He jogs to the door, and he opens it before almost being knocked down by two kids running past him.

"Boys, what did I tell you about that--Terushima?" The voice is filled with shock and confusion, and when he steadies himself, he looks at who's standing in front of him.

"Autumn?" he asks, and he steps to the side to let her in, closing the door behind him. "It's been a minute," he says, and she scoffs.

"It's been longer than a minute," she says almost in disbelief that he's standing in front of her. You walk to your sister with her daughter in your arms with your eyebrows raised.

"Aut, you wanna explain what this is?" you ask, gesturing towards the noisy boys running through your apartment. They run into your legs, both grabbing one, luckily you don't falter, still glaring holes into your sister.

"Auntie Via!" they both yell at the same time, Terushima wincing at the loud volume, and Autumn gives you a sheepish look.

"Look, something came up at the last minute, and I didn't know what else to do," she tells you, and you blink slowly.

"We have another sibling!" you argue, and she smiles at you.

"Yeah, but I don't trust him as much as I trust you," she says like that'll work, and you give her a deadpanned look. "I'm sorry, but I shouldn't be long, I promise. I owe you one," she continues, and you sigh as you roll your eyes.

"Fine," you give in, and she jumps up before giving you a hug on the side that isn't holding her daughter. She starts to head towards the door, and she waves goodbye to her kids, who really aren't paying her any mind, and she quickly slips out the door before they can see that she's leaving.

Your nephews are now focused on Terushima, prodding him with questions about his piercings and his tattoos. "I'm sorry about this," you tell him, and he looks up at you as he shrugs.

"I don't mind. I can stay if you want me to." He moves to go to the living room, but the boys jump on his legs, and he has to drag them to the living room as he walks.

"I can't ask you to do that," you say, smiling at him and your nephews.

"That's okay," he says, "You're not asking me. I'll stay," he concludes before sending a wink over his shoulder.

~

Turns out Autumn's "I won't be long" turned into five hours. Yeah, she definitely owes you. You're thankful that Terushima stayed, he was able to occupy the kids while you got stuff done that you had planned to do today. But you also hate how domestic it all felt, and it makes your heart do something weird. Like it doesn't know how to feel about the whole thing.

He even somehow managed to feed MJ while keeping your nephews distracted so that you could make dinner. You all eat in the living room, watching a movie that's more so for the boys, while MJ keeps herself entertained in her bouncer. When you all have finished, Terushima takes the dishes and even washes them before planting himself right next to you on the couch.

You notice that MJ is starting to get sleepy, she keeps rubbing her eyes and her bouncing is beginning to slow down. You grab her out of the bouncer, rocking her softly until she falls asleep. You're so glad that she doesn't fight sleep like her brothers did. You start to feel tired yourself, your eyelids feeling heavy, and Terushima seems to notice because he wraps his arm around you, pulling you into him.

You don't even fight it, his body heat pulling you further into sleep. As you're drifting off, you feel someone moving your arm, and you look down to see your nephews laying on either side of you and Terushima, laying down in your laps. You smile fondly as you rub his back before laying your head down on Terushima's shoulder. And before you fully fall asleep, you feel him kiss your forehead.

When Autumn uses her key to get into your place, she doesn't expect to see all of you asleep on the couch along with a questionable guy, but she can't help but smile as she pulls out her phone to take a picture. Once she's got them, she flicks your forehead. Your face scrunches up before you're blinking sleepily. "Oh, hey, you're back," you say, your voice filled with sleep. "Took you long enough."

She laughs quietly as she grabs MJ. "I know, I'm sorry," she whispers. "The twins weren't too much trouble, were they?" she asks, rocking her daughter back to sleep when she stirs.

"Then they usually are? No, not this time." You both exchange a soft chuckle before you carefully remove yourself out of Terushima's grip, not wanting to wake him, and you freeze when he shifts, but he just rolls his head to face the other way.

You help Autumn load her kids in the car, all of them still fast asleep. "I think they've only been asleep for about thirty minutes," you guestimate and she nods, but you know she wants to talk to you about the massive elephant in the room. You sigh. "Go ahead. Let it out."

"What the hell is he doing here? And in your apartment of all places?" You can hear a faint sound of disappointment in her voice considering the fact that you told her what he did to you and what led to your breakup.

You throw your hands up as you shrug. "I don't know. I didn't even know he was here. I found out when he caught me after I fell off my ladder." Her eyes go wide, and you wave her off before she can yell at you. "I didn't know he would be coming over here today either," you admit, and you sigh as you shove your hands into your jacket pockets.

"I just don't want you to get hurt again," she says, and you nod. "You've got nearly four years unaccounted for." You nod again, understanding what she's saying.

"I know, I know, but I don't know. He seems different now," you explain lamely, and you hear her sigh before you raise your head to meet hers.

"I know you don't want to hear a lecture from me, but be careful Via," she warns, and you nod firmly before moving in to give her a hug. "I love you."

"I love you, too. Text me when you get home," you tell her when you pull away. You watch her get in the car and drive off. You sigh again, watching the puff of air disappear into the chilly, night air before you make your way back to your apartment. You smile softly when you see that Terushima is still in the same position you left him in.

You take off your jacket, warming your hands up as you walk over to him. "Teru," you whisper, and when he doesn't respond, you tap him lightly. "Teru," you repeat, and you jump slightly when he grabs your wrist quickly, and he peels his eyes open.

"Your hands are freezing." You chuckle lightly as you see him look around. "The kids are gone?" he asks, rubbing his eyes with his palm.

"Yeah, my sister came and got them." He hums before he starts smiling widely, and your eyebrows come together as you look at him. "What are you smiling about?"

"You called me Teru." You feel your face heat up for the millionth time, and you scoff softly as you move to turn away, but he stops you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards him. He starts to stretch out on the couch, but you don't move, and he pulls you down with a little more force. "Lay with me," he murmurs, his body starting to drift off.

"You need to go home," you tell him, the nickname on the tip of your tongue, but you bite it back. He whines before pulling you down, making you fall onto him, and he traps you with his arms.

"I'll go home when I'm not tired." You chuckle again, situating yourself so that you're comfortable, and you notice that he's staring at you.

"What?" you ask, fighting the urge to shrink under his gaze. He brushes a strand of hair from your face before he rubs your cheek softly with his thumb, and you lean into the touch.

"You're just so beautiful," he whispers, and you huff as you look away, even your ears heating up at the compliment. "Hey." He turns your face so that you're looking at him again. "Can I kiss you?" There's something in your head that's telling you that you're already too deep and that doing this is a really bad idea, but it doesn't win.

You both lean in, and when your lips meet, you feel like you're back in high school, kissing him for the first time all over again. Tingles are sent all through your body as you sigh contently, and you feel yourself falling in love with him all over again. You know this is bad, but you can't bring yourself to care, blaming it on your fatigue.

He pulls away, a sleepy smirk on his face as he pulls you closer to him, your face buried in his neck. "Man, I've missed you so much." You feel your heart flutter at his words, and you're scared to respond with the same thing even though it's clear as day, but the soft snores filling your ears tell you that you don't have to worry about response right now.

Things seemed to do a complete one-eighty after that night. You thought when you would've woken up the next day, things would've been awkward, but to your surprise, you found yourself alone on the couch, and the smell of breakfast food filling your nose. He had made you breakfast, then sent you off to work with a kiss goodbye and a promise to call you later, which you wish you've would've let out when you were telling everything to Kiya.

"So, you guys are dating now?" she asks as she pours a cup of coffee for a customer.

"I don't know, I wouldn't call it that?" you say, unsure of where you both really stand right now. You serve two more plates to a table, and Kiya continues the conversation when you come back.

"But you guys have kissed?" she argues, and you respond with a shrug. "I don't know, from what you've told me, it seems like you two are back together."

"You don't sound very enthusiastic about it," you notice, and she replies with a pout as she tilts her head and you sigh. "Look, I know how things left off between us, but we'll talk about it," you try, and she holds her hands up.

"I'm not trying to tell you who to date or what to do. I just want you to be careful." You nod quickly at the repeat of words, and you really appreciate how much Kiya and Autumn care for you, and you smile as you nudge her.

"I know, thanks for looking out for me," you tell her, and she gives you a smile.

"Of course, that's what I'm here for."

Naturally, things are very prone to blow up in your face, and the blow-up happens about three weeks later. Everything with Terushima has been going pretty smoothly, both of you agreeing to talk about how things were left those years ago. He had been spending a lot more time over at your place, even more than you were spending at his. He'd been helping you babysit whenever your sister had to drop them off. It was like he had inched his way back into your life and planted himself there.

You decided to surprise him and make some of the burgers that he loved the first he came over. You can't help but bound happily to his apartment, the burgers in a plastic container, warm in your hands, and you finally get to his apartment, but just as you're about to knock, you hear laughing. Your hand stops midway as you lean in to put your ear against the door, careful not to alert anyone inside.

You assume it was the TV, but as you listen closely, you can hear Terushima's voice, but you feel your heart shatters when you hear a woman's voice coming from inside. You feel the tears forming in your eyes as you take in more of the conversation before you hear them erupt into laughter.

You finally find it in you to move, slamming the container on the ground before hurrying away from the door, your vision blurry from the tears. You were so stupid, so pathetic. You were so easy, that you fell for it. Again. And you thought that he had changed. You were dumb enough to think that things would be different this time around.

~

You don't tell anyone what happened, and you don't talk to Terushima. You don't even tell him what you heard, you just stop talking to him. It's not like you had time anyway. You and Kiya were hosting a Christmas party are your shop (her idea, not yours) and you barely had any time to really sit down and breathe. You both spent all day making the food, that you barely had time to sit down.

You luckily had enough time to run home and get in the shower to get ready. You came back just in time for the party to be in full swing, both you and Kiya's families here along with some friends. You've greeted everyone, and now you're just standing around, enjoying the atmosphere around you, while at the same time feeling a little bit insecure about the dress that Kiya made you wear.

It's a red sweater dress that's off the shoulder, but it hugs your body, stopping very close to the bottom of your ass with thigh-high boots. Why she had you wear this, you have no idea, but you decide that you're going to go change when she's preoccupied. "Via." You turn around, your heart dropping at the sight of him in front of you, and you hate how good he looks right now.

He walks closer to you, and his scent fills your nostrils, the way he fills out his suit should be illegal. "You look, wow," he says, shaking his head at a loss for words.

"Ridiculous, I know," you say, pulling at the hem of your dress and he scoffs.

"Gorgeous." You want to accept the compliment, but just looking at him makes you angry and upset at the same time. You mumble a soft thanks, and you're trying to find an excuse to get out of this conversation when he speaks up again. "You haven't been answering my texts or my calls," he starts, and you look away from him as you find an answer.

"Terushima, listen--"

"Via?" You turn your head towards the soft voice, and your eyes widen at the man walking towards you. He gives you a hug, and you reluctantly hug him back, disarray raging inside of your head.

"Kaleb! What are you doing here?" you ask incredulously, and he gives you a quick look of confusion before it's replaced with a smile.

"You invited me?" You raise your eyebrows. You did not invite this man to this party. You didn't even invite Terushima, and they coincidentally show up here? You internally roll your eyes. Kiya.

"I did, didn't I?" you lie. "Right, I'm sorry, I forgot, I've just been so busy." You haven't spoken to Kaleb in about a month. He was the recent guy you were seeing, and he was alright, but he really wasn't your type. You didn't even have his number saved in your phone. You sense even more tension in the air as Terushima and Kaleb stare each other down, and you definitely need way more alcohol.

"Terushima this is Kaleb. Kaleb this is Terushima." They both shake each other's hand, but the tension only seems to get thicker, and you feel like you're suffocating in it.

"If you guys would excuse me for a minute. I'm just going to check on the food," you rush out, not waiting for a response before darting off to find the culprit. When you spot her, you yank her to the side, and if looks could kill she'd drop dead on the spot. "You invited them both here?!" you yell, making sure to keep your voice lower than the music.

"Both? Who are you talking about?" You rub your forehead, feeling the stress really starting to hit you. This was the last thing you expected and you really don't need this right now.

"You invited Terushima and the guy that I ghosted a while ago." You sigh heavily, rubbing the back of your neck as her eyes go wide.

"Oh, shit. I did accidentally text a wrong number by accident, but I thought it was nothing." You give her a tired look, and she tilts her head in confusion. "I mean, it's gonna be okay, but you sound even more frustrated."

You sigh again. This really isn't the place to tell her, but you were going to tell her eventually. "I heard a woman's voice when I went to Terushima's apartment a couple of days ago."

"What?!" she nearly screams, her eyes wide before she slaps a hand over her mouth, realizing how loud she was. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. Because there was just a lot going on, and I didn't want to be sad during the holidays or ruin yours, but that plan has failed miserably." You laugh bitterly, feeling completely drained.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Via. I didn't know." She reaches up to rub your arm as you shake your head.

"No, it's okay. You didn't know." You close your eyes as you take a deep breath, regrouping yourself. "It's okay. We'll worry about it later, 'kay?" You don't let her answer as you walk off, ignoring her calls of your name.

You linger around the party, hoping you don't run into Terushima, but your eyes land on him talking to your mom like they've been friends for years, and it feels like someone ripped your heart out of your chest. How could he just go about his life knowing that he was playing you? Just like he did before.

"Via?" A soft voice and soft hand shift your attention to Kaleb who's come up next to you, and you smile despite the fact that you feel like complete shit and that you're tired. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"Hi, Kaleb, what's up?" you ask, and he hands you a drink which you gratefully take, almost downing the whole thing in front of him.

"It's just, um, you're standing somewhere pretty cool." You look at him in confusion before you glance up, seeing mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. Kiya must've put this in last minute. You feel your stress building up as you look at him, chuckling softly.

"I guess I am." You know he's going to kiss you, and you've never been so conflicted in your entire life. You don't really want to, but you want to, secretly hoping that Terushima's watching so that he can feel how you're feeling right now. But at the same time, you just wanna go home and cry yourself to sleep.

You've been quiet, your thought preventing you from answering, and you feel his lips on yours, and you feel your body sag slightly at the fact that you don't feel a spark from kissing him unlike when you kiss Terushima. When you pull away, you just happen to look to your right to see a very pissed off Terushima.

You see him shake his head before heading out of the door, and you hand your drink to Kaleb. "I'm sorry, I have to do something, I'll be right back." You rush to the door, disregarding your jacket as you follow Terushima out. "You got a problem or something?" you ask angrily, and he stops in his tracks, his back facing you for a few seconds before he turns around.

"Yeah, I do. You're over here leading me on while you're kissing other guys." You scoff at his accusation.

"Oh, like you're not doing the same thing," you spit back, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"Excuse me? I haven't been seeing anyone else besides you, but you obviously have other plans."

"You know you have some real balls to accuse me of leading you on when that's all you did the entire time we were dating." He goes to speak, but you cut him off. "No! You entertained girls all the time, sometimes right in front of me. How you reacted to them is not how you're supposed to react when you have a girlfriend. Do you know how pathetic I felt?!" The tears are spilling, and you don't have any more will to stop them.

"I felt so stupid. You made me feel so...ugly." You see his face soften, but you don't wanna hear what he has to say. "And you're accusing me when you had a girl in your apartment a couple of days ago." His eyes widen at that, and he stops his trek towards you.

"What are you talking about?" You scoff as you throw your hands up. You'll have to spell this one out for him too.

"I went to your apartment to give you the burgers that you wanted, but when I went to knock on the door, I heard your voice laughing with another woman's voice." You see his face drop in realization, and he starts to wave his hands. "Did you both enjoy my burgers?" you ask, your voice cracking as more tears fall down your face.

Terushima recalls hearing something fall outside of his door, and when he opened it, he saw the burgers, but he didn't think anything of it. He should've been more aware. How could he be so stupid?

"Wait, Via, baby, that wasn't what it looked like, I swear--"

You chuckle bitterly. "You expect me to believe that?! Because that was the same shit you told me four years ago!" You're past done. You're exhausted. "Fuck you, Yuuji Terushima for being the same piece of shit guy you were four years ago! And for breaking my heart again." Your voice breaks when you say again, and Terushima feels his heart breaking into a million pieces. "I never want to see your face again."

You turn around quickly making your way back into your shop while Terushima stands there frozen, letting you walk out of his life once again. The words you just spoke to him the exact same words you said back then. He feels the tears on his face before he registers them. How could this happen? How did it all go so wrong so fast?

You walk back into the party, thankful that you didn't put mascara on as you wipe your face off, and Kiya walks up to you. "Girlfriend, are you okay?!" she asks you, concern etched all over her face as she pulls you to the side.

"No, I'm not," you tell her honestly. "But, this is a party, and we're supposed to have fun. So, that's what I'm going to do." For what seems like the tenth time tonight, you walk off without waiting for a response.

After everyone left the party, that's when you decided to get yourself drunk. You usually don't drink this much, but you couldn't bring yourself to think about anything else. Kiya takes you home, and she stays with you as you scream, cry, rant until you finally crash on your bed due to a mix of the alcohol and your emotions being all over the place.

She sighs worriedly at your figure, and sits next to you on the bed, brushing her hand over your head before your face which is stained with tear tracks. Your phone on your nightstand rings and Kiya picks it up, seeing that it's Terushima and she rolls her eyes before hitting the decline button. She sees that he's called you non-stop through the night, and she scoffs again. She's pretty sure she could get away with murder.

When the phone rings for the fourth time, Kiya angrily picks it up. "Via, baby, I am so sorry, please listen to me, it was just a misunderstanding--"

"Olivia can't come to the phone right now," Kiya cuts him off curtly. "She's passed out because a fucking piece of shit decided to walk back in her life and break her heart the same fucking way he did four years ago," she spits, and she hears him sigh heavily before he sniffles.

"Kiya, you gotta let me explain, please let me explain." He sounds completely wrecked, Kiya can barely understand what he's saying.

"I don't think so, Terushima. You barely deserved a second chance, and you definitely don't deserve a third. Goodbye."

"Wait, wait, wait! Please! Please let me explain!" He's practically yelling in her ear, and she knows that if she hangs up on him he'll just keep calling. But she's also never heard him like this before.

"Fine. You have five minutes."

It's been roughly a week since one of the lowest moments of your life, and you're not entirely healed, but you definitely feel better, and you swore off getting that drunk ever again due to the awful headache you had when you woke up the next morning. Right now, you were hanging with Kiya, which she fully insisted for whatever reason, and you assume it's just because she wanted to spend time with you before the new year.

"He proposed?!" you yell as you practically throw yourself off the couch. Kiya laughs as she nods. "What? Show me the ring!" you demand, and she holds her hand out which you quickly take into yours to examine her finger. "Woah, that is expensive," you comment as your eyes go wide.

She pulls her hand back as she agrees before looking at it again, her eyes full of love and happiness. You can't help the ping of jealously that stabs at your heart, but you push it away, replacing it with the happiness for your best friend. "So, I'm obviously going to be the maid of honor," you say matter-of-factly, and she laughs as she rolls her eyes.

"Of course you are. There's no one else I would want it to be." You both talk for a couple more hours, and you look at the clock on your phone.

"I should probably go. I don't want to implode on the newly engaged couple. He's going to be home soon, right?" you ask, standing and stretching.

"Yeah, but it's okay, you can stay. We won't mind." You shake your head as you start to gather your things.

"It's okay. I've got a bunch of takeout and some wine calling my name at home." You slip on your coat and your boots. That's mostly the reason why. The other reason why is that you really don't want to see any happy couples right now. That's just putting salt in a wound that's slowly healing. "Congratulations again, Kiya. I'll text you when I get home." She nods while walking you to the door, and she watches you walk to your car and drive off before closing the door.

You yawn loudly when you get home, kicking your boots off and throwing your jacket onto the couch. You decide that you're going to take a nap first, and then you'll eat, and as you walk to your room, you feel something under your feet. At first, you thought it was something weird on your sock, but when you keep feeling it, you look down to see rose petals?

You turn back to the door. You had locked the door when you left, and you just unlocked the door when you came home, so...

"Hello?" you call out into the quiet apartment, but you receive no response, and you follow the trail of rose petals, assuming that this is possibly the way that you're going to go out. The trail stops at your door, and you slide the door open, gasping when you see what's inside.

The lights are off, the only light being provided is from the vanilla-scented candles all over the room. There are rose petals all over the place, and there are vases of your favorite flowers spread out across the room, and standing in the middle of it is Terushima.

He's facing you, wringing his hands together nervously as he watches you take in the new changes made. "What is all this?" you ask in disbelief, and he steps forward before he speaks.

"An apology. I mean, I don't really think I can make up for the pain that I've caused you, but there's been a huge misunderstanding." You sigh softly as you look away.

"Terushima..." you start, and he startles you when he falls to his knees before grabbing your hands.

"Via, I'm begging you to let me explain. If you let me explain, then I'll be out of your hair. You won't hear from me ever again. And I know I don't deserve this, but please, please, let me explain." You only respond with a nod, mostly because of how he's acting right now. "For starters, I am so sorry for how I've made you feel. This year and four years ago. It was never my intention to make you cry or to break your heart, and I did both of those things, and so much more."

He takes a deep breath before speaking again. "Second, that girl in my apartment is not what you think," he tells you firmly making you roll your eyes, and he quickly starts speaking again. "I know, I know, but let me explain." He quickly pulls his phone out of his pocket like he's afraid that you're going to leave.

You watch as he brings up a conversation with a number before scrolling up to a certain part of the conversation, and he turns the phone to you. You hesitantly grab the phone, looking at him before bringing your eyes to look at the phone. You scroll through the messages, the messages themselves not outright telling you that he was seeing another girl.

One of them says 'it'll be ready in a couple of days,' another one says that 'you can meet me at my place.' That one's from Terushima. You hand him back the phone, not convinced at all. "You told her she could meet you at your place."

"And I should've realized how that would've looked. I was stupid, I wasn't thinking, and I'm sorry." You gesture to the phone.

"What was supposed to be ready?" you ask, your voice full of disinterest, and he quickly pockets the phone before reaching into his front pocket. Your eyes widen when he pulls out a box small enough for a ring, and he grabs your hand before you have the chance to move.

He opens it to reveal a small, simple ring with your birthstone in it. "Terushima..." you trail off, and he shakes his head.

"It's not what it looks like. It's a promise ring." A soft, surprised expression comes over your face. "It's a promise to you that I'm going to be better. Everyone knows that I don't deserve you, but this is a promise to you that I'm going to become the man that you deserve." Now you feel the tears coming, and he keeps going.

"It's a promise that I'm never going to hurt you again." He stands up quickly, your head now lifting upward to look him in the eyes. "Olivia, you mean the world to me. There's no else but you, there hasn't been, and there never will be." He takes the ring out of the box, setting the box on your dresser.

"I love you so much that it hurts. You're all I ever think about as soon as I wake up to the moment I go to sleep. Please, give me another chance. I promise I won't make you regret it." The tears are falling more frequently, and you wipe them away.

"How do I know you're not lying?" you ask quietly, trying to keep your weak resolve up. He steps closer to you.

"You know that I'm not lying," he tells you confidently, his gaze never wavering from yours, and you sigh knowing that he's right. He's one of the worst liars you've ever met, having tells for days. And none of them are showing. You're still fighting it in your head, looking down away from him, and he tilts it back up by your chin.

"Please. I will never make you feel that way ever again. I promise." He tells you firmly, his voice solid. Terushima feels like his heart explodes when you nod your head. He slides the ring onto your finger before wiping the tears from your eyes. He's so happy he could cry. He plants his lips on yours quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling him into him.

"Please, let me show you," he pleads after he pulls away, holding your face in his hands.

"Okay." That's all he needs before he's picking you up, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carries you to the bed, and he never breaks the kiss as you land on your back. He moves you further up on the bed before moving his lips to your neck, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin.

Your hands move to his hair as you feel him biting marks into your skin, and you know that you're going to look like a freaking leopard tomorrow. He pulls your shirt off, throwing it somewhere off to the side, your bra soon following, and he doesn't waste any time attacking your breasts, one hand stimulating one while his mouth is on the other.

He pulls your hardened nipples between his teeth and his fingers at the same time, making your back arch off the bed at the different feelings. After marking up one breast, he moves to the other, doing the same thing before he starts to kiss down your abdomen.

He looks up at you when he reaches the waistband of your sweatpants, and you nod quickly as he groans seeing how your pupils are blown with lust. He quickly gets rid of your sweats, groaning again when he sees the growing wet spot across your crotch.

He licks a broad stripe up your covered cunt, both of you moaning simultaneously as you squeeze his head with your thighs. He makes quick work of your panties, almost ripping them with how eager he is to taste you. He digs his fingers into your thighs, almost entranced by your naked sex, and he teases you a bit more by marking up your thighs, whining when he pulls the skin between his teeth.

"Yuuji, stop teasing," you whine, and he smiles wickedly before he spreads your legs.

"I gotcha, pretty girl," he coos before licking another stripe through your folds, the action so sudden that it makes you jump slightly. His hands press your legs into the mattress as he eats you out like you're his last meal. "You taste so fucking good," he moans, the vibrations only elevating the feeling, and the taste of you on his tongue and the sounds you're making are like heaven, and he's close to blowing his load that he has to force himself to hold back.

He moves up to your clit, running circles over it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, making the grip on his hair tightening just shy of painful. He prods a finger at your hole before slowly inching his way in, and he ruts against the bed to find some release. You already feel so good on his finger, so he can only imagine what you'll feel like when you take his dick.

He slides another finger in while continuing to use his mouth on your clit, stretching you out before sliding in a third. He curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside of you with ease, making you release a loud moan. "Teru," you gasp, and he smirks against you.

"You close, baby?" he prods, already knowing the answer. He keeps curling his fingers, the squelching sounds almost overpowering your moans, and he feels you pulling at his hair, this time painful, but he can't bring himself to care as he licks up your clit making sure his piercing strikes it.

You cum with a scream, and he moans when you clench on his fingers, but he keeps going, his fingers seeming to go deeper inside of you, and a weird feeling sits in your core, and you try to push him away, but he keeps going until you feel another release.

"Fuck. Holy shit, babe." You come down from your high, gasping for air as you watch him come up with your juices all over his face while he sucks his fingers clean. "You just squirted." You move to cover your face with your hands but he stops you. "Don't be ashamed. That was really hot," he admits, licking around his mouth to get some more.

He kisses you hungrily, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue and when his piercing knocks against your teeth. He hisses and breaks the kiss when you palm his straining erection through his jeans. "Do you want me to return the favor?" you ask, still breathless from your previous orgasm, and he lightly brushes your hand away as he shakes his head.

"Later, right now is all about you," he tells you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him close to you.

"Then I want you to fuck me," you whisper against his lips, and he groans before making quick work of his shirt and his jeans. You can see a huge wet spot in the front of his briefs, and he gets rid of them quickly, his dick smacking his abdomen once it's free.

He stands at the edge of the bed, lazily stroking himself, and you feel your mouth go dry at how beautiful he is, so you tell him, and he responds with a soft chuckle, but you can see his face deepen with a blush at the compliment. "Nah, that's all you, baby girl." He smirks when he sees your eyes widening once they land on the pair of metal balls at the head of his length. "You like it?" he quips, and you just gulp, your eyes having a hard time looking away from the angry red tip dripping with pre.

His eyes drag down your figure, making you hot all over and he moves onto the bed, hovering himself over you. "You're so gorgeous. The prettiest woman I've ever met." You don't have time to feel flustered by his words because he leans down to kiss you, this one different from the previous ones.

This one is softer and filled with love, but still has the same amount of passion and hunger. "I have a condom," he tells you when he pulls away, and you shake your head.

"I wanna feel you," you tell him, lust dripping in your words, and he bites back a moan as he gives you one last kiss before guiding his dick towards your leaking hole. He pumps himself a few more times before sliding in, and you can't help the whine that falls from your lips.

It's been so long since you've felt him inside of you. And it's an addicting feeling you didn't even know you were missing until now. "Fuck, you are so tight. Shit." He bottoms out, stretching you in the best possible way, and he rests his head against yours.

"Move, Yuuji," you urge, and he nods while he pants.

"I know, baby, I know, give me a second. Fuck." He takes a few more deep breaths, and when he's sure that he's not going to bust just from how warm you feel, he backs up until only the tip is inside and he rams back into you, making the bed knock against the wall.

You cry out, your arms wrapping around his neck again as he repeatedly slams back into you, the feeling of the piercing rubbing against your walls foreign, but it feels so good. He keeps shifting his hips until he finds that spongy spot inside of you, and he grips the headboard, using it as leverage to piston that spot, and you feel like you're going to explode with pleasure.

You rake your nails down his back, and he feels it hit every nerve ending all over his body, and his hips falter just a tad when you clench around him. "Fuck, baby, touch yourself for me, please touch yourself," he spills out, knowing he's not going to last much longer.

You bring your hand down to roll hard circles on your bud, clenching at the sudden stimulation, and Terushima shudders. "Feels so good, Yuuji," you moan out, and he can't help but reciprocate it as his face scrunches up in pleasure.

"You feel too good, baby, oh my God." You can sense that he's close, so you clench around him again, and that's what send him over the edge, letting out a shout of your name as his hot seed shoots into you.

He doesn't stop moving though. He brings one hand down to your shoulder and fucks into you harder than he had before. He whines at the overstimulation, but he's determined to get you there. "Cum for me, baby, cum for me."

With one last hard thrust, you cum hard, back arching off the bed as you scream his name while Terushima moans at you coming undone under him. Your back meets the bed again, and Terushima rests his head on your forehead as you both catch your breath.

He pulls out of you slowly, wincing at the overwhelming feeling of pleasure mixing with pain before he gets up and makes his way to the bathroom the best he can on shaky legs. You feel yourself starting to drift off, and you jump when you feel something warm at your core.

"Sorry, I gotta clean you up," he tells you softly, wiping the mix of your juices away before putting the rag in the sink in the bathroom. He comes back, pulling the blankets down and getting in before pulling you into his chest. "I love you so much, Olivia. And I am so sorry. I won't make you regret giving me another chance."

You look up at him with a sleepy smile and sleepy eyes before sitting up to kiss him. "I love you too, and I forgive you, maybe," you joke, and you giggle when he pinches your side.

The rhythm of his heartbeat and the finger dragging up and down your arm lulls you to sleep fast, and the last thing you remember is hearing "goodnight."

~

Terushima wakes up before you, the sunlight bleeding in through the blinds and into his eyes. He takes a deep breath in and looks around, thankful that he remembered to blow out the candles before he went to sleep. He looks down to see you still sleeping peacefully, and he feels his heart do a somersault. He finally has you and he going to make sure that you don't leave. Not again.

He never realized what he was taking for granted until you broke up. He had slept with a few other girls, but they weren't you. All he could think about was you. He even got kicked out of a girl's place naked because he accidentally called her by your name. He pulls you closer to him, and you stir slightly, moving your head so that it's angled more towards his.

He thinks you look ethereal. The way the sunlight makes your brown skin glow almost makes him melt. He runs a finger down your sleeping face lightly before brushing the hair out of your face. "I'm sorry for being so stupid," he starts even know he knows you can't hear him. "I didn't realize what I had lost until it was too late. I wish I could go back in time so I could fix it or beat myself up, one or the other," he jokes laughing softly. "Probably both."

He rubs your back softly. "I don't even know if I have enough words to describe how much you mean to me. I should've never entertained those girls, like I said I was an absolute idiot, and to be honest, I didn't think you would've given me a second chance. I would've understood if you didn't." He holds you a little tighter. "But I'm glad that you did. I love you, and I'm going to keep saying it until you get tired of it, but I want you to know that. I want you to know that it's true and that I seriously mean it."

He takes a deep breath. "After the Christmas party, I cried so hard I almost threw up." He laughs bitterly, he doesn't really know why he's saying this, but he feels like he should get it off his chest. "That night it felt like my heart had been ripped out and stomped on multiple times. I only have myself to blame though. And I figured that must've been what you felt like because of me, and that happened to you twice.

"I was almost in hysterics. I kept calling your phone, but you never answered, and when I was about to give up, Kiya picked up the phone." He laughs again." And she almost hung up on me until I explained to her everything that happened and the huge misunderstanding that caused all of this. She held me put this whole plan together actually. She got you out of your apartment so I could do all of this."

He looks down at you again, giving you a kiss on your forehead. "I hope you stay with me forever. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You really are sappy in the morning." Your groggy voice makes him jump, and you smile as you struggle to hold back your laugh, peeling your eyes open to reveal a very red Terushima.

"You were awake?!" he asks, and you laugh fully as you nod. "You heard everything?!"

You nod again. "I did, I'm sorry. I thought you were talking in your sleep, but I realized it was too coherent for it to be sleep talk." You sit up, resting your hand on his chest and putting your chin on top. "Did you mean everything you said?"

He responds quickly. "Every word." You fight back tears as he pulls you in for another kiss, his hand resting on the back of your head softly. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Yuuji Terushima."

EPILOGUE:

"Teru, you're not taking me to the woods to kill me, are you?" you ask, looking around blindly due to the blindfold wrapped around your eyes. You hear him laugh as you feel him take another turn.

"No, I'll do that for our next anniversary." You laugh as you try to figure out where you are. Terushima had woken you up saying that he was going to show you your anniversary present, but then he blindfolded you and led you to the car. "Stop trying to figure out where we are with your weird powers!" he yells at you, and you nudge at him while playing with your necklace that he got for you after you both made up. It has his name on it, and he bought a matching chain with your name on it.

"It's not my fault I know this city like the back of my hand." You feel him take another turn, and you close your eyes as you try to narrow it down. "Are we in a subdivision?" You smirk when you hear him groan, knowing you guessed right.

"Can you please stop? You'll ruin the surprise."

"It's hard to focus on anything else," you admit, and you quickly go quiet when you feel his hand rubbing up and down your thigh.

"It is hard now?" he asks you, lowly, and you feel your core clench at his words and his actions. Now you can't focus on anything but his hand, but you're abruptly pulled from his actions when you feel the car stop. You hear him turn the car off and you hear his door open and close while you take your seatbelt off.

Your door opens, and he's guiding you out of the car. "You ready?"

You jump excitedly in impatience. "Yes, yes, hurry up!" He peels off the blindfold, and you blink a few times, letting your eyes adjust to the light before they focus on a two-story house. "A house?" You feel something cold touch your hand, and you look down to see a pair of keys in your hand.

"Our house." Your eyes go wide as you snap your head up to look at Terushima before looking back at the house. "Happy anniversary, baby."

"Are you fucking serious?!" you say, jumping into his arms, almost taking him out before you run towards the door, unlocking it as fast you can. Terushima smiles at you fondly as he follows you around the house as you tour it.

"This bedroom's kinda small though," he comments, looking around, and you step in the room, spinning around as you look at the room before stopping to face Terushima.

"I don't know. I think it's the perfect room for a nursery," you admit, and you see him shrug as he looks around again before the words dawn on him. He almost breaks his neck to look at you, and you smile widely as you nod.

"You're fucking serious?! I'm gonna be a dad?!" He runs to you, picking you and spinning you around. You both laugh loudly before he sets you down, pulling you into a loving kiss that leaves you breathless.

"Happy anniversary, Yuuji."

A/N: If you stayed this long thank you for reading, but if you didn’t, I don’t blame you LMAO

#terushima yuuji #yuuji terushima #terushima yuuji x reader #terushima yuuji x you #yuuji terushima x reader #yuuji terushima x you #terushima smut #terushima yuuji smut #terushima fic #terushima fluff #terushima angst #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu!! smut #hq fluff #hq smut #hq angst

[waywardimpalawriter]

Could you do a Bucky/Reader fic for 16 on the smut prompts?

The intimacy of shaving

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Sam Wilson x Reader

Bucky Bingo Square: New haircut square

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Sarah Wilson

Setting: three months after the end of Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Rating: M (Mature), E (explicit), NSFW, +18 only please

Warnings: fluff, angst, bickering, smut, oral female receiving, yearning, pining, unrequited love, smutty dreams, broken bones, mention of torture, Bucky’s old memories,

Word count: 10,800

Summary: Frustrated with being left behind, worry taking hold after finding out just a fraction of how bad your boys are. Making you start to search your feeling's for both men. Especially with the intimacy of giving Bucky a hair cut and shave. Unexpected emotions surface on all parts.

Notes: Sequel too “My own worse enemy," filling in a bingo square for #buckybingo and also an Anon request asking for smut prompt #16 “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.” Hope you don't mind me adding Sam into the mix sweetie. Also for my head cannon Sam uses Delacroix LA for his base of operation. Wanting to help take care of his family while taking on the mantle of Captain America. Hope you enjoyed doll.

Tag list’s: Are open

@buckybingo

Forever’s: @jedi-mando @chickensarentcheap

Bucky Barnes list: @learisa @eclipses-and-moondust

Story list: @sammyissassy @feelmyroarrrr

Wearing a path from the kitchen to living room ignoring Sarah’s stare, thumb nail damn near nibbled to the bed with how much your chewing the poor abused finger. Cell phone pressed to your ear, listening to Sams deep baritone, “What’d ya mean three places Samuel? How the f-ing hell did you both managed to get so banged up?”

“Explanations will roll out once we touch down Y/N for now know at least he didn’t break his funny bone that’s still none existence,” glancing towards Bucky stretched out over the metal helo bench. Right arm in a sling snug to his body, thick plaster cast covering from mid bicep to mid palm, fingers still visible.

“I heard that and I do to have a sense of humor just not your brand of stupid jokes bird brain,” deep voice unmistakably Bucky’s catching a wobble in the cadence not there when last they spoke.

Swiping a hand over your face wanting to kill them both for leaving you behind. Plans to do just that forming in your mind while snarking, “Remind me again why exactly you chose to leave me behind?”

Staying home you could’ve possibly worked with, the unknown danced on your nerves more than you’d give credit to. Having grown even closer to both men over the last six months, always brushing those pesky feelings and thoughts away that surface during weak moments of worry or sleep.

“To dangerous and I’m not arguing with you on those semantics it’s bad enough cyborg got the shit beaten out of him,” quickly pulling the phone from his ear at the high pitched sound from down the line. Forgetting a moment your attachment to both men, “You finished?”

Low growl in answer, biting off the curses you wish to fling at both Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Don’t worry you’re in for it once you get home. ETA?” Checking the watch strapped to your left wrist, “I’ll come pick y’all up, gotta stop in town for supplies anyway.”

“No worries my trucks at base I’ll get Buck and myself home.” Glancing at his watch, “Landing in about two hours, think you can grab a couple of Miss Bridgette’s pecan pies?”

Too many years working with that man not to know what he likes, “For the shit you and Barnes pulled get your own pie man.” Soft chuckles lets you know Sarah heard you. Eyes locking with her’s for a moment seeing the worry in those warm browns matching as you knew in your own. “Just bring you asses home so Sarah and I can roast them.”

Almost feeling the deep groan from over the phone line, “What did you tell her?”

“Nothing since that’s what I got,” shaking head tips to the side picking up on Sam’s easy breathing and the helo’s engines in the back ground. “Just get home dumbass,” affection in your tone. Ending the call, slipping the cell into your front pocket to flop down into the worn out but still comfortable couch.

“They get hurt?” Anxiety tainting her voice from across the room.

Peeking through your fingers at her, dropping them to your thighs to run the length of denim covered skin, “Don’t know really, Sam sounds fine but a concussion or another type of head injury wouldn’t show it’s self right away. From what I did gather they finished up the mission a little over four hours ago, in flight for the last two.”

“What about Bucky?” Meeting your eyes having confided in her years ago about the crush harbored for a certain metal armed ex-assassin turned Cap’s left hand man. Always leaving out the other part of your secret crush. “Speaking of which you ever gonna tell them how you feel?”

“Busting chops about that again Sarah?” Exasperated sigh marches passed barely parted lips, “Something’s broke in three places that’s all Sam ‘Stubborn ass’ Wilson would say. Just not which one of them or what body part exactly.” Firmly ignoring her last question and not picking up on the fact she said them instead of him. To stand hands to hips, leaning back to stretch and possibly pop your spine. “I’m going to town you wanna come or need anything.”

“And you call Sam stubborn,” head shaking with a fond smile tipping her lips upward. Picking up the subtle shift in your demeanor as relief floods your system with knowing they're coming home at least safe. Having guessed your feelings for her older brother not long ago however, keeping that little tidbit to herself. “I’ll come with, give you company and grief along the way. The boy’s won’t come home till later anyway.”

Eyes roll you reach for the car keys on the coffee table, patting your back pocket to check for wallet and the front for cell phone. “Ready to roll?”

Hour and a half later arms loaded with grocery bags, making sure to hide Miss Bridgette’s pie’s from Sam, you and Sarah set to work putting everything away. Setting to work fixing dinner efficiently dancing around each other like a well oiled machine working together in tandem getting each task done. Back door quietly trying to open, Sam poking his head around the well loved oak wood door. Showing a face littered with cuts, a busted bottom lip and dark shadow of a black eye around his left. But his smile still widens flashing pearly whites at seeing the two of you. Entering, Sam places a large locking suit case and round leather carry case not far from the door.

Soft gasp leave’s Sarah’s lips, quickly moving towards her brother to look him over, “You were ugly before now it’s just worse bro.”

Snort existed through his nose, stepping fully into the house with a limp on his right side, accepting the hug she gives him carefully. “You should see the other guy.”

“I’m the other guy,” voice slightly strained but still light almost playful unlike the Bucky of months ago. Though seeing him coming around Sam, arm cradled close in a black cloth sling. Peeks of plaster noticeable making you groan, head shaking at the very sight of him. Assortment of bruises littered his face, his own busted lip, and a three inch cut circling just above his collarbone. Seeing the storm brewing in your eyes, “No we didn’t fight and Sam didn’t cause these wonderful souvenirs.”

“Stupid ass got captured, wouldn’t listen to my plan…”

“You didn’t have a plan Sam not a logistical one…”

“Oh, so you bulldozing in like a raging bull in a China shop worked so well. Who got capture?” Pressing a finger behind his ear to lift the shell listening for Bucky’s answer. “I’m sorry I can’t hear you. You’re gonna say you right Robo soldier cause that’s the correct answer.”

Exasperated with them both, “Shut it and sit down dinner’s ready. I swear the two of you fight worse than Cass and AJ.” Authority ringing through Sarah’s tone cutting eyes at both men.

“Oh sweetheart Cass and AJ have nothing on these two bone heads, more maturity in their little bodies than both of them put together.” Rubbing your temples trying to fend off the building migraine behind your eyes. “Listening to constant bickering I wanna put them in a ‘Get along shirt.'”

Scowl in place while giving them a full once over. Cataloguing the damage you could see and wondering about that which you couldn’t. Noticing the length of Bucky’s hair almost a shaggy just falling a little over his ears and brushing the collar of the black t-shirt he’s wearing. Full beard dusting his cheeks and chin reminding you of those days long gone back in Wakanda. In contrast to Sam’s neatly kept mustache and goatee, close cropped haircut smartly framing his handsome face. Looking much like the day he and Bucky left three months ago on their reconnaissance mission. Knowing better as looks deceive and clothes cover up places eyes can’t see without stripping them naked. The very thought peeking interest but pushing those thoughts back with a frown. Of course it doesn’t stop you from wanting to hug them both mindful of injures unseen that brings a scowl to your features.

“You wouldn’t?” Traces of fear slicing through those deep russet browns. “I thought you loved me Y/N?”

Speaking over Sam, “What’s a ‘Get along’ shirt?”

Caught between wanting to roll her eyes and chuckle, “It’s a big shirt we’d put the two of you in till ya stop bickering like children and actually get along.” Dishing up dinner, Sarah looks towards both men. Trying hard not to burst out laughing at the sour look on Sam’s face nor the still slightly confused one on Bucky’s.

“I see smoke coming from his ears,” snarky quip receiving a back handing smack to his arm.

Bowel’s placed at the table, “Aim for the head next time Sar.” Taking the seat on Sam’s right offering him a cheekily smile, “Might actually knock the few brain cells he has left around and jump start the hamster running the wheel.”

“You both wound me,” clutching his chest dramatically. “With friends and family like this who can you trust.”

“Dramatic’s must come with handling the shield,” cerulean eyes rolling edged with teasing tone. Glancing towards Sam first then you beside him, going to explain for Sarah’s benefit. “Steve could put on some high melodrama back in the day. Much like Samuel here.” Scratching at his chin with vibranium fingers, a low hiss only you catch sounds when the plates catch the little hairs.

Scoffing, “Only Sarah calls me that first off, second look who’s talking Mr. Bionic Staring machine scaring off everyone who comes within two feet. Dramatics run through your veins just as well. ”

“Children,” both women exclaim hands coming down to slam the table at the same. Before time digging into dinner as the back door opens with Cass and AJ storming inside with excited chatter upon seeing both Sam and Bucky.

Each asking about what happened, how’d the mission go and why exactly Bucky’s sporting a sling and cast. All questions peeking the interested of both women with brows raised and narrowed eyes.

“Settle in first and eat dinner,” Sam intones wanting to keep most of what happened from his family. “For the most part the mission went successful.”

Very unladylike snort leaves your nose hidden behind a glass of sweet tea you sip from, “At least you came back in one piece or three in someone’s case.” Eyes narrow even farther on Bucky who has the good graces to look sheepish and divert his eyes.

“But the super serum why didn’t it help like that,” AJ snapped his little fingers for emphasis on the quickness the serum should work or so he thinks.

“Doesn’t quiet work that way AJ,” Bucky starts running a hand through his longer than usual hair. Giving a short frustrated tug before returning to the topic at hand. “Yeah the serum helps speed up the healing process it’s not instantaneous and,” pausing to side eye you not wanting to admit there’s more injures than just his arm.

Scowl returning having a feeling you know why he’s paused in explaining, “Takes longer to heal when multiple injures are involved.”

Dinner finishes with other questions, skirting the full truth about the mission, discussing the coming week with work and school. Sam’s boyish smile appears when Sarah brings out the pie, cutting out slices to pass around with Reddi-whip, coffee for the adults, milk for the kids. Silence settles for a moment the enjoyment of pie more important to savor and only once done do you raise to start cleaning up.

“I’ll,” shooting Sarah a look with a shake of your head.

“You got paperwork to catch up on babe I’ve got this, besides Sam volunteered to help. Didn’t you Sam?” Shooting a look his way, clearly speaking volumes if the answer comes back no.

Brow arched in question but thought better then to ask, though he flips the script on you, “Of course, Bucky volunteer’s.” Quickly moving away from the hand threatening to land a hard punch to his right thigh. Almost toppling to the floor in his hast to move Sam tweaked his hip a twinge of pain slicing through his features.

“Serves you right Wilson,” thought a slice of regret skates across your thoughts. Head shaking you stand gathering plates as the boys excuse themselves to play video games.

“Homework first or I’m taking those games away,” Sarah yells after them looking in your direction for a second. “You got these two?” Pointing at each of them in turn with her own frown dropping her lips downward.

“Sadly yes,” exasperation clearly written in the rigidness of you stance and narrowing to slits of your eyes. “Blissfully unaware or want to know everything?”

“Unaware I’m just happy their back whole,” nodding Sarah takes her leave, heading for the home office.

Times flown, six months in fact since Karli’s death and Sam taking over the mantle of Captain America. Going above and beyond to change how the worlds become and see’s the shield. Using Delacroix as home base to keep himself grounded and around for his family. Surprisingly enough including you and Bucky the house feels a touch over crowded but wouldn’t want things any different.

“Care to explain what that means?” Limping with hands full towards the sink, Sam places his arm load down watching you move around the kitchen. Putting leftovers up, setting to work on the dishes, the familiarity you exude warms a place in Sam’s heart. Always pushing those thoughts from his mind, your his best friend and wouldn’t see him in any other way. Especially with your heart firmly filled with Bucky.

Giving your back to both men and only acknowledging their presence when Bucky comes over with a bowel. “Thanks,” leaves your lips with a nod.

“We’re sorry for leaving you behind Y/N, but Sam and I agreed things were to dangerous neither of us wanted you to get hurt,” trying to reason Bucky leans his back against the counter beside you. Tugging once again at his too long hair that gets slightly tangled in the plates of his fingers.

“You actually agreed on something?” Catching his actions, your head shakes grabbing for the towel to dry soapy hands and help with his dilemma. “Instead you both come back looking like train wreck’s all beaten, broken and bruised. With a busted arm,” finished with untangling his fingers to point at his arm. Whirling around to assess Sam who’s trying not to put weight on his right leg, “Banged up hip and God know what else internally. Neither one of you are spring chickens for heaven’s sake.”

“Don’t know what your talking about Y/N? I’m not a day over twenty-five,” taking an aim to make you smile and ease the tension in your shoulders. Frown appearing when your countenance doesn’t change but deepens, “Talk to the resident Centurion who got his ass captured and tortured for over a week.”

Low growl leaves your lips pursed together in a grim line, “Do either of you think about the consequences of your actions? Of what’ll happen without either of you in this God forsaking world?” Tossing your hands up and turning back to dish washing, something to keep from chocking the life outta the two of them, or spilling your inner most thoughts. Afraid to loose either man the very thought making your heart clinch painfully in your chest, breathing picking up as tears gloss over your eyes. Plates clang loudly, forcefully slamming them into the drying rack making both men wince at your actions.

“Y/N,” coming up behind you large warm hands carefully rest on tense shoulders. Aware of your feelings for a certain cyborg the thought a little bitter to take but Sam resigns himself to the role of best friend. “We’re sorry really,” taking a breath and clearing his throat wanting to make amends and explain. “We thought, planned, things just…”

“Went to shit around us, it’s not like Sam or I wanted to get the crap beating out of us doll it just,” shrugging vibranium hand coming to rest on your shoulder beside Sam’s. “Got complicated.”

Taking a deep breath drawing in the scents of Sam’s citrus and cider wood cologne you couldn’t put your finger on naming, mixing with Bucky’s old world sandalwood base cologne of 4711. Eyes close for a moment blinking back the tears, and to gather thoughts, righting them in an order that makes sense. Trying to keep out the feelings currently jumbling up your brain. “I know,” body sags back against Sam’s strong chest while unconsciously leaning towards Bucky’s hand. “Neither of you will do that shit again. Do I make myself clear?”

“Not if things go dark side like this time, we’re not putting you in harms way,” feeling you stiffen Sam steps back, Bucky’s hand drops back to his side when you whirl on the man behind you. Stance ridge and firm, Sam crosses his arms adding his own glare and not backing down. “My decision is final on the matter and no amount of arguing will change that.”

Understanding Sam’s position, however the thought of staying behind, waiting to find out if… no you push those thoughts aside. “Mine, that’s who makes the choice not either of you,” heat of annoyance flaring to life as you look between the two men. “Knowing what I signed up for, choose to stick around and help put this broken blue marble we call home back together. I won’t sit out the next mission we clear on that?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, barely audible hiss leaves Bucky’s lips at having hair yanked out by the roots. Though his voice is steady when asking, “Why did you stick around? Thought once Walker handed over the shield, the Flag smashers agenda crashed and burned you’d skip out on the next train back to normal.” Not that he minded of course, in fact Bucky rather enjoyed your company, reminded him of those first months out of cryo getting to know each other. Plus his questions distracted you from getting an answer that won’t satisfy.

“I have my reasons,” giving a half hearted shrug you turn back to finishing up the dishes not really wanting to explain. Not fully sure yourself why you’ve stuck around though deep down you know it has to do with both men. “Reasons neither of you need to know.”

Sharing a look with Bucky, “Don’t pull that shit with us sweetheart you demand answers now we ask the same in return.”

Sure they still argued like an old married couple but a begrudging understanding has built between the pair, coming to an almost friendship neither would fully admit to. Both wanting to protect the small family friend’s circle patched together like grandma’s old quilt. Tattered, frayed and a few wholes but well loved and always cared for. Eyes landing back on you to watch the forward slump of your shoulders rounded inward along with your chin dropped to your chest.

“I have the two of you house broken,” idea forming to steer the conversation away. “Don’t need that headache on repeat and I wouldn’t leave the two of you bone heads alone to kill each other or drive poor Sarah crazy,” quicker than either can react you’ve scooped up hand fulls of soap bubbles to smash into both their faces. Deflecting the conversation away from having to answer and lightening the mood. Or so you hoped with the playfully murderous looks both men shoot you. Skirting Sam’s grabby hands heading to put the kitchen table between yourself, Captain America and the Winter Soldier. “Now boys that’s just all in good fun and your both hurt so I suggest you think about your actions before retaliating.”

Wiping the remains of soapy bubbles from his face, thick fingers making wet tracks over denim to dry hands. Sam edges a little closer intent on trying to snag your arm. That ghosts through his fingers, “For now but remember paybacks a bitch sweetheart.” Bright smile tugs his full lips, head shaking though he knows there’s so much more your hiding from both he and Bucky. One day he’ll crack that secret you hold so dear, for now Sam lets you cling tightly.

Watching him go you turn towards Bucky who’s smirk sets you back a moment. “I don’t think I like that look Barnes,” arms crossed mustering a half glare. “Sam’s right you really can see the smoke rising from your head.”

“Hahaha that jokes getting old,” light hearted quip falling from his lips, eyes raking your form as you near the sink. Catching you looking between finishing the dishes and making sure Bucky’s not going to retaliate. “I come in peace promise besides I’m too old for revenge I’ll leave it to you young whipper snappers,” throwing his voice to sound like an old man.

Laughter rings full and deep from your parted lips, soapy hands gripping the sink to keep from toppling over in mirth. His own chuckle exists on a grin, cerulean eyes taking in how carefree you look. Tension and worry melted away with his well played grandpa joke. Making Bucky wish he got to see you like this more often but then he remembered why he never searched. Why he left you alone and only within the last ten or so months managed to reconnect the missing dots in his life. Sure there’s still blood on his hands he tries to scrub clean with each mission, to make those amends and not just avenge. But truly help people in ways that didn’t require lead or blood.

Still wondering, so he gives voice to those thoughts, “Why didn’t you go back to your life doll?” Feeling he’s perpetuated a grave error in asking the question but a part of him wants. No needed the answer to know why you’d give up a happy life for one of danger and uncertainty with him and Sam.

Sobering, his question hitting you like a ton of cement bricks keeping you from turning to face him. Wincing when another hiss echos around inside your head from your right side. “Tell you what Buck you let me cut that hair and beard of yours I’ll answer your questions.”

“I get you don’t… wait… what?” Not sure he’d heard you right. Pain making a return to fog his brain for the moment as throbbing radiates across his broken clavicle to the dislocated shoulder, dancing along the fractured radius and painfully tingling his fingers. Soft curse exists his lips reminding himself to take Sam’s suggestions next time though he wouldn’t let the other man know. “Don’t happen to have any pain meds do ya doll?”

Eyes narrow, “Which parts did they break?” Holding up a hand to stop him from answering while you head towards your room. Grabbing up the small med kit Sharon gave you months back for times like these. Pausing to scoop up the hair scissors and trimer, along with a shaver and cream, both of which belonging to Sam. “Now you were saying?”

Placing everything on the table, unzipping the medium size unassuming black bag pulling out a small bottle to pop the top and wiggle out two pills. Handing those over to Bucky who just stares at them resting in his metal palm.

“Trying to kill me doll?” Teasing tone to the cadence of his words while popping them into his mouth and excepting the glass of water. Downing in one go and handing it back, “Never did like pills reminds me of Steve.”

Resting a gentle hand on his bad shoulder, “If I tried to kill ya Buck you’d see it coming,” snickering at the wide eyed look he gives you. Sobering with understanding filled eyes that stay locked with his, “I’m sorry it”s not my intentions to bring up the past.” Moving to put the glass down, you stay at the sink looking out over the backyard, orange and reds dancing over the rippling surface of the bayou. Sinking sun creating a cornucopia of color heralding the on coming twilight and the end of another day.

“You didn’t Y/N,” coming to stand next to you watching the golden ball of life giving light slowly sink into the horizon. On the tip of his tongue to speak about Steve, the abandonment he felt acutely with the absence of his best friend. Slowly filled by your present, that of Sam’s and his family. “I guess ‘Till the end of the line’ meant just till he could get back to who he really missed.” Anguish heard loudly through soft spoken words not meant for your ears but once uttered there’s no going back.

Out of your peripheral vision you study Bucky for a moment heart breaking for the man who’s lost so much to then fully face him. His own gaze staying straight ahead staring unseen out the window with tan lace curtains framing the coming twilight. Over head light casting shadows in the hallows and angles of his features, bringing out the bruises highlighting the cuts, making your heart ache for this man in ways you’ve tried to push aside. Ways you didn’t want it to feel in case of rejection but couldn’t help the tightening in your chest nor the want to embrace and hold Bucky close.

“Come on,” without thinking your hand slips into his vibranium palm tugging till he follows and only dropping to scoop up trimmer, combs and scissors before heading out the back door.

For a moment Bucky stood there thankful to Shuri for the ability to feel warmth and the weight of your hand in his vibranium limb. The very thoughts your simple gesture conjures damns his heart making it beat triple time. When your head pops back around the door sweet smile crossing those kissable lips. Bucky has to remind himself you’re off limits friends nothing more and to breath. Your beauty stealing the air from his lungs, making it hard to focus on anything except your present.

Catching the out of focus look in his cerulean eyes mind swirling with questions as to what he’s thinking about. “You gonna stand there taking root or get your silly ass out here,” motioning with a jerk of your head over your shoulder smile still firmly in place. Making sure he’s actually moving before existing to place a stool about middle of the back porch. Patting the hardwood barstool then reaching up to tug on the pull string as light floods the area casting a bright glow.

Transfixed for a moment in the doorway with the peek of skin allowed to his eyes. Your heather grey band shirt riding up teasingly tormenting him. Cursing internally, tongue trapped between indenting teeth to keep the sounds at bay. Till the hard slap of your palm against wooden seat draws his attentions and he robotically takes the seat. Stiffening with the fluttering of a barber’s cape hating to have things around his neck. Only to settle once you have it in place and buttoned reminding him your not there to hurt or torture him. Fingers brushing lightly over the exposed skin of his neck, creating goosebumps to dance across his flesh.

“Not too tight?” Gently running nimble fingers through his hair, blunt nails scratching the scalp. Finding it hard to keep from rubbing into your hands and fighting the urge to purr with each pass. You work the larger knots out carefully, pulling a comb from the back pocket of your jeans to run through his hair. “You with me Buck?”

“Hmm?” Simple noise issues from the back of his throat lost in the tingling sensations your fingers bloom across his body. Wanting to chase the feeling bringing peace to his mind much like the soft cadence your voice takes on with the intimacy surrounding the two of you. Sweet chuckle music to his ears and snaps him back to now, noticing you’ve paused your hands waiting for a response, “Sorry no I’m good.”

“Enjoying yourself Barnes?” Teasingly quipped while adjusting the cape to cover his back. Making sure all his hair lays over the edges and carefully combing out the smaller knots your fingers missed. Secretly enjoying the soft chestnut strands as they curl around your fingers. Massaging his scalp hoping to relax his tense posture when a particularly stubborn knot has you accidentally giving a not so gentle tug. Garnering a low moan from the man in front of you. “Sorry Buck,” working the knot out with a little more care taking the sound as one of pain.

Throat clearing, thankful his crotch is currently covered to not give away the secret he’s concealing. Praying to all the heavens you’ve taken the moan as one of pain instead of pleasure that’s surfing through his veins with a simple hair pull. “Yes, and it’s fine,” words pushed passed lips held taunt to keep from letting any sound out. Searching his mind for a topic to settle on, willing his body to stop reacting to the warmth of yours.

Each brush of fingers sends heat flaring to life along his nerves. Knowing the pain killers don’t worked through his system that quickly. Yet, the throbbing ache once present has diluted to a low annoying thump with the heat of your hands on his cotton covered shoulder. Wanting to lean back into your body but holds himself ridge from doing something stupid like enjoying the moment. Therefore clears his throat, “You’ve got me at your mercy doll ready to answer my questions?”

“Should I worry what you’ll ask?” Moving from behind him to head back into the kitchen. Grabbing the empty spray bottle to fill with warm water and head back out.

Eyes close with the first spritz of water, chin dropping to chest as you work to wet his hair. “Why?”

“Why what?” Knowing what he’s asking, your distracted for a moment putting the spray bottle’s trigger through a belt loop incase its needed once your satisfied with the wetness of his hair. “I’ll need more specifics than just why. Why’s the sky blue? Why’s it so damn hot? So many why questions you gotta stop wasting your breath Buck.”

“Cheeky doll very cheeky you know damn well what I mean,” keeping his head still to prevent you from severing an ear.

Smirking, setting to work on trimming up the top back portion of his head, trying to keep from childishly making faces. “Sure don’t Sarge.”

Groan slipping passed before he’s able to trap and swallow the sound at the off handed use of his military rank. Wondering which deity had it out for his ass today. Cursing the fact he’s let you so close to breath in the flowery scent of your body. Gentle use of those skilled fingers through his hair not making things any better for the growing problem tenting his jeans. Returning to himself when you move to his left shortening the hair over his ear. “Why’d you stay with us? I thought,” remembering those painful words back in Madripoor. “I thought you had a happy life to go back to.”

“Ear hustling Barnes?” Switching sides and glancing down with a raised brow you know he doesn’t see.

Looking up to try and catch your eye your focus on cutting his hair makes the attempt impossible. So he settles on, “Don’t know what you mean doll. Just asking a question,” trying to hold the shiver at bay when your fingers brush over the shell of his ear.

“Since your asking it means you didn’t hear everything Sam and I talked about,” thankful that’s the case or things would get a whole lot complicated. “I lied.”

Head whipping to the side so quickly you fear he’s damaged his neck with the wince taking over his handsome features. “Lied why?”

“Reasons,” ‘Ones I won’t tell you James,’ speaking the last words in your mind, careful probing fingers check for anything popped out. Garnering a hiss of pain when you’ve found the break in his clavicle. “What did you break besides the hamster running your wheel brain?”

Bitting off the curse as pain flared over his right side. Gritting out, “Clavicle, dislocated shoulder, fractured radius, you can see the cuts and bruises so take it a little easy on this old man.”

“How… Why did you get captured?” Worry fights fear both dance with anger marching through your veins as a Thanksgiving Day parade band would down the streets of New York City. The very thought of both your men hurt and so far away from home torn a hole in your heart. Thoughts you try to push away and focus on the job of cutting Bucky’s hair.

Finishing up what you could on the back of his head, Bucky feels you come around to the front. Knees spread to accommodate your body, closing his eyes to keep from staring at your breasts. Licking suddenly dry lips with having you extra close, he tries to gather an answer to your question. “We needed an in so I made a decision.”

“One I’m sure Sam disagreed on,” carding your fingers through the top, snipping pieces checking length. Jealous over how soft his hair feels between your digits. Woodsy pine scent reaching your nose that twitches in pleasure at the fragrance matching what you always thought he’d smell like.

“Yeah well we ran out of time doll. Couldn’t let what remains of LAF get away,” eyes quickly open only to slam shut again with having you still too near for his own good.

Every brush of your fingers, thighs brushing against his with every move, your flowery scent wrapping around his heart to squeeze tight. Breath punched from his lungs when your knee makes slight contact with his erection. Shooting pleasurable fireworks off behind his closed lids. Wishing for your hands on his body, wondering what they’d feel like over bare skin. If you’d shy away from the scars littering his flesh or… he wouldn’t, didn’t need to think about the alternative.

Unsure why he gasped you move from between his legs and look upon his face confused as to his ridge posture eyes held tightly closed. Insecurities rushing through your mind, setting up shop to remind you no man let alone someone as handsome as Bucky would ever want to look at you. Shoving back those thoughts to ask, “You okay Bucky?”

“Fucking fabulous doll,” bitting out the words while trying to reign in the need to grab hold of your hips, bringing you back against him. Wanting to find out if you’d fit as good or better than what he’s imagined during those dream filled nights he doesn’t talk about with anyone. “Finished?” Praying you’ll say yes, the temptation becoming almost unbearable.

Unconvinced by his words but pushes that aside and stepping farther back to round him, grabbing up the trimmer on the way with a numbered comb. “Almost but then I still have your beard to do.”

“Fuck,” low gravely voice intones the single word hoping you’ve not heard and cursing the heaven for this test of his will and desires. In another life Bucky wouldn’t have hesitated to ask you out, wine and dine with dancing till midnight. Taking you home with a simple kiss of promise with more to come. But he’s different now and you don’t deserve to have a broken man on your hands.

Swallowing harshly to cover your growing need to escape and bury yourself in another program or book to distract from those awful thoughts running around in your mind. Replaying all the brush offs and look aways as rejection shattering your heart. Pushing you to finish his new hair cut that much quicker. “Done, now how short you want your beard?”

“Gone,” knowing exactly what he’s saying and damning himself to the torture of a different kind.

Coming back in front of him, you slip between his parted knees so easily a thought you try to push away while switching the trimmer combs and flicking the on button. Carefully cupping his left cheek while shortening the right for a closer shave once your done. “Surely you didn’t just let them capture you.” Returning to a safer subject other than how good his bearded jaw felt in your warm palm. Wondering how it’d feel in other places.

“Offered myself up for a little bloody torture and a few broken bones. I’m here to tell the tale instead of those guys Y/N. They're off the streets and we have the information needed to finish taking down LAF.” Teeth gritting to keep from rubbing his jaw into your palm, from turning to kiss the center and devour you with his mouth.

Pausing a moment, “But you could’ve gotten killed James.” Sorrow coloring the cadence of your tone, eyes filled with fear at what could’ve happened. “You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped.”

Heart stopping, never had you spoken his first name, always Bucky or Buck, Barnes when your angry but never James. Opening his darken cerulean orbs breath trapped somewhere between lungs and mouth at the sorrow written deep in those eyes he never could not stare into. Heart hammering back to life with the subtle brushing of your fingers over his cheek, “Would it have matter?”

Confusion tips your head to the side, “What you dying or me helping?”

“Dying,” single word dropped like a bomb destroying everything in the path.

“James,” softly spoken with so much emotion held within the countenance of your features. Watching the ghosts float through those beautiful cerulean eyes, memories of a time he couldn’t control, of deeds done to people who didn’t deserve the pain and death he dealt out as the Fist of Hydra. Tears gloss over your eyes once again trying to blink them away to keep them from clogging your emotions filled throat. “It matter’s Barnes, matters to a lot of people you’re just too stubborn to realize that.” Shaking your head to clear the fog and get back to work.

Speechless Bucky just sits there letting you finish up trimmer the hair away as if trying to erase the past months, the torture he let happen with no regard to his personal well being. During this time your words chase around his mind, combined with Sam’s out right demand of him to never put himself in harms way like that again. Adding more questions added than any true answers. Delicate fingers brush over trimmed facial hair bringing him back to the present right as you move to take the barber’s cape from around his neck. Missing the warmth of your touch, heat radiating from your body, your scent filling his nose and making him drunk on you.

Folding the cape to drape over your arm, “I’ll shave you as well come back inside.” Voice slightly rough with unshed tears avoiding looking directly at Bucky and missing the longing written in the ocean pools. Mistaking his lack of response for rejection of your words and feelings. You enter the house placing the small hand load down and moving a chair over towards the sink. Returning to grab up the shaving cream and razor, pulling a fresh wash cloth from the draw by the sink too wet it hot.

“You don’t have to,” entering and closing the back door with the heel of his boot. Bucky leans against the counter watching you with a closed expression. Pain dull but still worming its way through his veins along with so many thoughts.

Glancing his way, “I know,” motioning with a wave of your hand, “but if I don’t that beard’ll come back in short order and we’ll have to do this all over again.” Going for playful to ease the tension built from the lingering words of out on the porch, “Bring your ass over here Buck.”

Your change in mood has a confused frown pulling his mouth down but complies with the order. Taking up the seat with spread legs and turned up face watching you wring out the wash cloth. Using your elbow and tipping his head back to gently place the hot cloth around what’s left of his beard to soften the hair and wake up the pores. Catching the small muffled groan, “To hot?”

“No, perfect,” faintly hearing the two simple words you grab up the shaving cream to put a generous amount in your palm before pulling the quickly cooling cloth from his face. Tossing it towards the sink and applying a layer of cream to his skin. Left overs rinsed from your hands quickly before drying and grasping the razor with steady hands. “Just a little off the top if you please,” boyish smirk slips over his lips tipping cream covered cheeks up while trying to be funny.

Eyes rolling, “To late for that one top’s already taken care of.” Using the pad of your thumb to push the skin of his cheek taunt. Carefully dragging the razor over his flesh intending to keep your gaze directed towards working the blade over his check. However, you’re unable to do so while cleaning the razor as your eyes dart up catching the fact Bucky’s gaze firmly rests on your face. Heat blooming across your body, eyes drop back to his cheek intent on getting finished quickly to avoid any farther embarrassment.

Meanwhile Bucky maps every feature of your face, the slant of your nose, set of your eyes, cupids bow of your top lip. Visions of drawing the plump flesh in for a bite and pull before letting go with a wet pop, filter through his mind. Finding himself in a rather precarious predicament, thighs spread to accommodate your body, his palms itch to grasp and tug you into his lap. Bitting back a moan each touch brings, the gentleness tearing a new hole in armored covered heart. Wanting to keep you out but finding it harder to do every time you show the kindness his life lacked for decades.

Minds eye drawing the curves of your cheeks, lips twitching to caress, fingers tapping trapped in plaster and cloth against his body. Wanting to brush his knuckles over your throat to gently grasp the back of your neck and bring your lips against his for a slow sweet drink of the tempting cavern of your warm mouth. Only snapping back to reality with the soft brush of your fingers along his jawline.

Searching for any hairs left behind, soothingly palming his cheeks with cool hands desperate to taste his skin. Drag your lips over the same spots the razor just graced. Teasing the tip of your tongue along the hard edge of his jaw to place a kiss just below his ear. Tempted to even suck a mark for everyone to see. You swallow harshly removing your hands from his cheeks to rinse and warm up the cloth to clean off any residual shaving cream from his face.

“Finished,” clearing your emotions clogged throat, stepping towards the sink, your profile the only side Bucky sees as you work to clean up the mess.

Feeling rather than hearing him stand heat radiating of his body just a few inches shy of brushing against yours. “Thank you doll,” impulsively leaning forward to brush his lips over your cheek. Lingering longer than he should but unable too stop himself from pressing soft slight chapped lips to the corner of your mouth. “Next time I need shavin’ I know who to come too,” breathing the words before pulling away, taking his leaving quickly to keep from doing something even stupider. Like wrap you up into his arms and actually kissing those pillow soft lips. Backdoor swinging closed a little harder than he meant in his bid to get away from your warmth and tempting body.

Frozen in place, skin tingling from just that slight press while your heart beats almost out of your chest. Pounding against your rib cage so hard fear it’ll crack a rib any second now. White knuckles grip the sinks edge, heat flaring across your body to pool low and throb through your lady parts. Thighs unconsciously rub together needing friction to alleviate the ache growing between your legs.

“Did you cut him or take a hunk of hair out and now he looks like Frankenstein monster?” Teasing tone to his quip, Sam enters the kitchen still staring at the back door. Having watched the exchange from the darkened hallway. Reverting his eyes to your back, taking in the ridge posture of your spine with a slight very subtle shake. “Y/N what’s wrong?” Swiftly coming up behind you, hands gripping your shoulders to turn you around. “Did Bucky say or do something wrong?” Worry creasing his brow the want to hold you close growing with each second your not in his arms.

Looking up into the kind russet eyes flashing with concern and worry, “No,” head shaking, “no he didn’t Sam just…” unable to stop yourself from burying your body against Sam’s firm chest. Trying to figure out how to explain what’s running around in your head. The indecision, thoughts you know shouldn’t roll through your mind doing just that as your arms wind around his trim waist.

“Just what sweetheart?” Wanting to help smooth things over between his two best friends even if it meant swallowing his own feelings.

Keeping your eyes closed, breathing in his cedar wood and citrus scent, burying your nose against his collarbone. Always able to calm the raging storm of emotions boiling through your veins. Confusion setting in with those same tingles you feel when Bucky touches you now dances across your body at the warmth of Sam’s arms cradling you close. Reminding you of earlier when his chest pressed to your back strong hands gently placed on your shoulders. The shiver you suppressed at the touch of both men. At the memory your eyes pop open and you quickly push away from Sam as if he’s burnt you. Needing to escape and figure out what’s going on.

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter, I’m sorry,” feet quickly taking you from the kitchen into the safe arms of your bedroom.

Missing the confused look marring Sam’s face that turns into hurt at the way you’ve shoved him aside. Body sagging against the counter, hand rubbing at the back of his neck searching for what’s changed in such a short period of time.

“Men, blind and just plain foolish,” landing a hard hit to his shoulder, which he rubs to alleviate the pain. Sarah comes up beside her older brother with a raised brow. “Still don’t get it? Searching for exactly why she reacted so strongly? Think Samuel use that big brain you have and actually put it to good use.”

Frown creasing between his eyes and drawing his lips down, “Left behind sucks Sarah that’s all it amounts to. But we… I couldn’t have her along, wouldn’t risk her life like that.”

“Has nothing to do with leaving her home Sam,” giving him a meaningful look that still bewilders him. “Why didn’t you want her along but you took Bucky with you?”

“He’s a super soldier Sar he can take the hits not that I want him hurt either. Shit when he let himself get captured,” moving towards the abandoned chair to plop down heavily. “He scared the living shit outta me, I thought…” hard to swallow the memories of watching those men pulling an unconscious Bucky into a van. Driving off before he could plant a tracker and barely able to get up with bruised ribs making breathing painful. Sam runs a hand over the short hair unsure when things got so complicated between the three of them.

Pulling up a chair in front of Sam, “You’d lost him?” Seeing the nod Sarah’s features softened knowing from the tell’s she picked up watching the three of them for so long. “You love them?”

“What?” Head whipping up so quickly making Sam wince. “Of course I do but not like that I mean their family, you know I’ll do anything to protect my family.”

Hand resting on his shoulder, “You keep telling yourself that big bro maybe one day you’ll actually believe it and able to push those feelings away good enough to keep them at arms length.” Looking up at her, “Just a word of advice,” seeing him nod, “don’t push those emotions away, you deserve that love they both would readily give you.”

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

Softly closing the door behind you heading towards the ensuite bathroom for a nice cold shower, preforming your nightly routine, and shutting off every light except the one beside your bed. Falling into the soft mattress with your current book keeping you company for the rest of the night. Eyes start to droop, words blur and you read the same sentence half a dozen times. Book falling against your chest as a yawn takes over your features.

Body stretching out against cool sheets jumping when a soft knock echos around your room, eyes darting towards the clock to see its just a little passed mid night. Slowly getting out of bed, pulling the extra long dark blue with little pink flowers dotting the sleep shirt down to cover your ass and thighs. Thinking its Sarah checking on you, eyes shocked wide with the small crack you open the door to spy Bucky standing there fidgeting.

“Everything all right Buck?” Opening the door wider to lean against the casing arms crossed just under your breasts.

Swallowing, glancing from your eyes to lips repeatedly. Trying to form the words he wants to speak when the decision makes itself clear and Bucky surges forward. Gently wrapping vibranium fingers around the back of your neck and bragging you against his strong chest. Slanting his lips against yours, nipping your bottom lip to make you gasp and slipping his eager tongue passed into the warm depths of your mouth. Leading the kiss and praying he’s not wrong.

Rewarded by your arms winding around his neck careful of his injures. Fingers tugging at the now shorten strands thanks to your expect hands. Garnering a low moan from the depths of his chest, one that rambles with a pleased hum as you return the kiss. Tangling your tongues together making nothing soft nor gentle about this melding of mouths. Only breaking apart for both of you to gasp for air.

“No, nothing’s all right doll. I can’t stop thinking about you,” resting your foreheads together sharing common air. Fingers at the base of your skull massaging the tension with surprisingly easy pressure. “I’d done fighting, done pushing you away, I need you Y/N.”

“James?” Lips tingling from a kiss you’ve only dreamt about as confusion marring your tone, eyes blinking a few times to make sure you’ve pushed the sleepy haze from your mind.

Soft groan issues at hearing you whisper just first name, hand slipping down to wrap around your waist and pull your taut to his body. “If…” trying to push the next words past his lips, “if you don’t want…”

“Us, we need to know now sweetheart. We won’t push you into anything you don’t want,” Sam’s voice full of desire and longing cuts across Bucky’s for a moment.

Making you look up from eyes locked with Bucky to stare at Sam trying to process his words, the look in those beautiful russet eyes you can’t pull yours away from. Till Bucky presses a kiss to just below your ear, “We know it’s a lot to take in doll and you can say no…”

“I,” gulping like a fish out of water, heat thumping through your veins at the unspoken promise both sets of eyes show. “I don’t know what to say.”

Stepping forward to push you back a step so Sam can fully enter your bedroom and close the door. He comes behind you sandwiching your body between two walls of muscle and masculine warmth. Pressing a kiss to the opposite cheek, lips brushing over the shell of your ear, “There’s no going back sweetheart you’re ours if you say yes. But if the answer is no I’m not going to lie things will change. Awkward as hell yes especially at first but I,” Bucky clears his throat to which Sam nods, “we would work through that with you. Loosing your friendship can’t happen no matter what.”

Removing yourself from between their warm bodies to collapse at the end of the bed, head in your hands. Mind so confused, a jumbled mix of desire and lust touched with a heavy dose of love that scares the living shit outta you. Feeling the bed dip on either side, removing your hands to glance at both men. Seeing the reassurance in those cerulean and russet orbs you swallow to wet your parched throat. Gaining strength to finally speak, “I don’t want to loose either of you,” looking between both men. Taking each hand within your own, “But this last mission taught me I don’t want to deny my feelings any longer.”

“What feelings doll?” Giving your hand an encouraging squeeze.

Looking into Bucky’s cerulean eyes, “I’m in love with both of you.” Switching to Sam’s russet orbs seeing the blatant want shining only boosts your confidence to lean over. Cupping his jaw and bringing your lips against his. Different from the kiss you shared with Bucky. Who’s bottom lip begs for a nibbling, Sam’s fuller lips press against your own in tender caresses.

Gentler too, a soft slant of his mouth against yours, pressing twice at different angles before tracing over your bottom lip. Gaining entrance on a sigh of need to check in with your tongue before tangling together. Heated palm cupping your cheek, thumb brushing over the apple twice while he artfully pillages your mouth. Drawing out a low moan squeak following when a set of lips slide over the side of your neck nibbling a short path to suck a mark behind your ear. Making you weak and boneless against Sam, who releases your cheek and hand to grip your hips, having you straddle his thighs.

Kiss breaking for air, “I’m to heavy Sam, your hip.”

“You’re prefect baby girl no arguing understand?” Cupping your ass in both hands to roll your hips against the hard bulge of his erection. Teeth gritting at how good you feel in his arms, the damp heat of your core only serving to make him grow harder with each brush against your cloth covered pussy. Sam reclaims your mouth, this kiss much different. Desperate and demanding taking no prisoners this time as he immediately slips his tongue back into your mouth. Pulling a groan from deep within your chest, arms going around his neck to help move your body against his. The delicious friction sending jolts of pleasure radiating out over your body, clit throbbing with a need you’ve never felt before.

Hissing at the cool sensations of Bucky’s vibranium fingers drawing circles across your back. Pushing your sleep shirt off your body arms raising, breaking the kiss to accomplish the task. Looking over your shoulder at the bare chested Barnes, mouth salivating at the sight eager to touch and kiss every inch. Brought back to Sam with the heat of his mouth connecting to your pulse, adding his own mark to your body while his callused fingers dances across your back.

Cursing his rotten luck for not having use of one hand, Bucky steps forward lowering to his knees carefully. Brushing his lips along your spine while cool alloyed fingers sweep around your body between you and Sam to trace a line between your breasts. Head dropping back to Bucky’s shoulder and baring your breasts to Sam’s hungry glaze and Bucky’s questing fingers.

“So beautiful,” words whispered reverently from Sam’s lips against the damp column of your throat. Mouth tasting each inch of your skin he can reach. Till moist heat circles your nipple, wet tip of his tongue coming out to flick the tightly budded peak before sucking harshly. In contrast to the cool patterns Bucky draws, taking the time to tug before pinching just hard enough that your back arches into Sam’s mouth.

Pushing into Bucky at your back a whimper parting your gasping lips. Needing more of both men surrounding you, slick coating your trembling thighs as you clinch around nothing. Dragging a whine of desperation from you soul,“Please,” single word escaping your mouth.

“What doll? What do you want?” Drawing his lips up to your ear, nipping the lobe bringing it between his teeth giving a sharp bite at the same time Sam flicks his tongue over your nipple.

Letting go with a wet pop, smiling at the whine exiting your heaving chest, “I think out girl needs more Buck. Any thoughts on how to please her?” Brow wiggling over your shoulder at Bucky who just smirks.

Fingers sliding down then under the band of your panties to find you soaked and pulsing. Cool metal meeting heated flesh makes you jolt in Sam’s arms. Grinding down into those wonderful fingers and against the thick ridge of Sam’s cock.

“Don’t stop please,” gasping head lolling back, your eyes close as sensations crash through your veins. Tight coil starting to form with just the brush of his fingers.

Maneuvering closer to slip two fingers into your clinching channel. Deep groan vibrating through his chest and into your back, “Fuck Sam she’s tight and so wet for us. I bet she tastes just as good as she feels.” Rocking your hips, fucking his fingers desperate for that high traveling up from the bottom of your spine. Tickling your tummy with jolts of pleasure only to have it diminish when Bucky pulls his fingers out.

Frustrated whine leaving your lips only to choke on air when Bucky offers one of the fingers perviously buried inside your cunt to Sam. Who doesn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around the single digit, groaning at the very taste of your essence. Circling the tip with his tongue, making sure to clear every drop off while keeping eye contact with Bucky. Mimicking with his mouth how he’d suck Bucky’s cock, garnering a growl from deep within his chest. Letting go with a smirk, “Even better Buck and I bet from the source it’s simply heaven.”

“Only way to find out,” answering grin firmly in place he raises from the floor. Helping you stand on shaky legs turning you to face him. Capturing your lips in an open mouth kiss, flicking his tongue against yours, teasing your bottom lip and drawing out another frustrated groan making him chuckle. “Don’t worry doll we promise you won’t go unsatisfied we’re going to take care of your every need.”

“Don’t tease her Buck it’s not fair,” glint of mischief sparking through those russet eyes that only Bucky catches since your still face him. Sam comes up behind to pressing his bare chest against your back, hands resting on your hips, tugging and letting the band of your panties snap back against your skin. “You can still say no.”

Wiggling back against Sam then pressing forward to feel the hard line of Bucky’s erection against your lower tummy. Knowing why he’s asking, seeing the same sentiment mirrored in Bucky’s eyes that warms your heart filling with love for both men. “Now who’s teasing Samuel,” reaching behind you to slide your palm over his ridged cock giving a squeeze at the same time you palm Bucky. “I’m sure my loves,” enjoying the answering growls from both men. Before another word leaves your lips Sam tugs down your panties letting them pool at your feet as Bucky moves you towards the bed.

Swiping the book from the mattress to lay on the nightstand, smile on his lips at finding the well loved copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. Bringing you to sit then lay back against the cool sheets, trailing his vibranium fingers from your cheek down between your breasts. Circling each nipple, giving the right a light pinch that has your back arching and a gasp existing your paired lips. Distracted till Sam gently grips your left ankle, spreading you open to slide between your legs. Pressing kisses alone the inside of your leg towards your thigh. Soft bread tickling your skin making giggles erupt from your mouth.

“I think she likes that Sam,” the comment spoken against your ear. Placing a kiss to your cheek, “Have to remember to let my own beard grow back out.”

Whimpering softly at the thought one hand fisting the sheets as Sam draws his tongue over the crease between thigh and groin. Purposefully avoiding the spot you want him most, “Payback is a bitch boys,” words growled out right as Bucky envelopes your left nipple into the heat of his mouth.

“Teasing half the fun sweetheart have patience,” looking up from between your legs. Stiffen tongue drawing up from your entrance to clit, circling the little throbbing nub and making your back arch, gasping for air.

“Fuck,” single word breathed from deep within your body. Sweat starting to bead across your forehead. Head tossed back into the pillow free hand carding through Bucky’s chestnut hair tugging the strands harshly till he lets your breast go with a wet pop. You guide his mouth up to yours, demandingly taking the kiss over, slipping your tongue into his mouth this time. Swallowing your moans of delight with each thrust of his tongue. Matching the pace Sam sets against your dripping cunt.

Rutting into the mattress to find the prefect friction hoping to ease for a moment the throbbing of his cock. “Stop stealing all those pretty noises Barnes I wanna hear our girl,” reaching up to smack the other mans thigh hard enough to break the two of you apart.

“Sorry not sorry,” giving him a smirk while licking his lips from the heated kiss.

Filing away the fact Bucky knows what means only to have any thought fly from your mind as two thick fingers enter your quivering channel. Slowly thrusting, his mouth suctioned onto your clit, drawing little short patterns making your thighs shake around his head. Slacking off to lazily place kisses over those thighs but still pumping his fingers, crooking them into a come hither motion to brush over that special spongy spot.

Blooming stars behind your tightly closed eyes, “Watch him doll, see how much you loves devouring that pretty cunt.” Voice rough with arousal against your ear, Bucky’s metal fingers dancing over your chest only adding to your heighten state of desire.

At his command you eyes open to lock with Sam’s passion blown blacken eyes. Moaning at the picture he presents you with, panting breath as you keep drawing closer to your orgasm. Only to have Sam back off creating frustrating tension in your body. Gritting out, “I’m going to die if you don’t let me cum.”

Smirk showing in those beloved eyes as he doubles down on your clit. Lips puffy but forming a perfect O too suction and flick his tongue over the engorged nerve bundle. Fingers, third added to stretch you open and picking the pace up as your mouth drops wide in a scream Bucky devours with a deep kiss. To keep from waking the kids or Sarah, his own body on fire with a need to have you both.

Tingles quickly dancing through your veins, breath panting as you break from Bucky’s mouth, one hand gripping the sheets below the other still buried in his hair. Body on fire as you near that perfect orgasm Sam’s intent on giving you.

Denial’s not just a river in Egypt as your eyes pop open at the knock on your door. Reminiscent of what your sluggish brain comes to understand as just a very vivid dream. One that makes your heart drop with the book that’d lay on your chest now face down on the carpeted floor. You stand checking the time of mid night before heading to the door and finding Sarah on the other side with ice cream in hand.

“Figured you might need some cheering up,” letting her in and taking the bowl of your favorite ice cream.

Vivid dream lingering though you don’t share feeling a TMI moment she doesn’t and most likely wouldn’t want to know about her big brother. You steer the topics away from the non existent love life to plans for tomorrow and the coming weekend.

#Buckybingo #New Hair cut square #Sam Wilson x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x Female Reader #Sam Wilson x Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader #Bucky Barnes x F!Reader #Sam Wilson x F!Reader #TFATWS fiction

[unbridgeabledistances]

soft prompt ideas: comforting each other, cuddling, waking up together/going to sleep, going on a date, idk just being in each other’s company? i’m terrible at being specific but i hope these help!

hi bby<3 thank you so much to u (and everyone else!!!) for sending in prompts, they brought me so much joy and now i have SO many little soft things in the works:’)

yesterday ended up turning into a long day and i didn’t get to finish most of the things i started, but i wrote this while i was freshly showered and in bed and wanted to quickly whip up some bedtime softness to end the day right!! so here is the softest, quickest pre-11x07 bedtime one-shot and ode to the gallagher house, i hope u enjoy<3

--

Ian turned the creaky handle to shut off the shower, stilling the scalding water that had been beating a steady stream onto his body, soothing his aching muscles and weary bones. Ian was tired—after he and Mickey had gotten back from their various security stops around the outskirts of the city, he’d promised to help Lip track down and deliver parts to the people who’d bought the odds and ends of the stolen bikes, and then he’d somehow ended up in Lip and Tami’s living room that was half-packed into boxes for hours, silently sipping a beer and listening to them tag-team their attempts at persuading Ian to convince Debbie into wanting to sell the house— an effort that was a lost cause, and they all knew it.

It was kind of funny— they’d all gotten so close to losing the house so many times before, from being pulled out by DCFS officers to being kicked to the curb by fucking Patrick, to feeling desperate ripples of fear as they watched the house be put up for auction for a bunch of Northsiders and boujee fucking families who picked through the bare skeleton of the rooms as they pleased— so it was funny that after all of that, after their front door being plastered with more bright orange eviction notices than they could count, that the eventual thing driving them out of the house in the end would be a Gallagher himself, just because Lip wanted some extra cash. Ian got it— they were older now, and Lip had a kid to worry about— but he couldn’t help but feel a soft pang in his gut, something muted and dull but still there, every time Lip nonchalantly mentioned “fixing the house up” and “making gentrification our friend” and “getting on with our lives”—even though he and Mickey had readily agreed, at the family meeting that Mickey now had a right to be a part of, that it made the most sense to sell the house and for the two of them to find a place of their own.

And honestly, that prospect was a little terrifying; it sounded silly, but this crumbling house, with its paint stripping away and its roof nearly caving in, had pretty much been the only constant in Ian’s life for as long as he could remember. He had memories, ones that were soft around the edges, of him and Lip and Fiona sleeping curled in the backseats of cars and, on a few of the worst nights, on playgrounds or stoops or streetcorners when Frank and Monica were too far gone— and then inevitably one day, one sunny afternoon, they would come home to this sturdy gray house, and even then Ian understood that this was a place he could always return to. He didn’t really know what a world without the Gallagher house looked like; he always found his feet leading him back to these four walls, even those months when he was living with Mickey and he’d walk the silent moonlit city blocks back home to splash in the pool with everyone on those muggy, late summer nights. Thinking about the comforting sag of the Gallagher house was one of the few things that kept Ian going in the colorless cinderblock walls of his prison cell; the concave mattress of his single bed at home wasn’t much better than the inch-think foam pad he scrunched onto each night in his cell, but it was still familiar, it was still home, it had still held him through all of these years.

Lip wanting to sell the house was just another bitter reminder, along with the changing storefronts of the Southside neighborhood stores, the people walking by with baby strollers and shopping bags of organic groceries, the notches on the closet door that showed how much Franny had already grown, and the tinny sound of Fiona’s voice wafting through a Facetime call, a voice too small and too quiet to fill the absence she’d left behind—that things were always changing, that life wasn’t going to stop for any of them.

Ian clambered out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, scrubbing his face with his hands to try to clear his head. The hallway outside the bathroom was still, the only sound the soft hissing of the radiator—when the fuck did this house get so quiet? There was no boisterous laughter wafting up from downstairs, no clanging in the kitchen, no WWE blasting from the TV at full volume; Lip and Tami had moved out, Liam was grown up and preferred steady conversation to the classic Gallagher screeching, and Carl was either off at the station for the night or doing god-knows-what in the basement— when did silence start to sink into these walls, without anyone really noticing? Even Frank was getting quieter, somehow, giving more blank stares than quick replies when they talked back and forth in the kitchen.

Ian stepped out of the bathroom and crept down the hallway, walking carefully in case Franny was sleeping; there was a comfort in the melody of the creaking floorboards, reminding him of all the nights when he’d lay awake staring at the ceiling, sometimes gripped by the swirling black thoughts he thought he’d never be able to shake off, and he would hear Fiona tiptoeing around in the hallway, checking in on everyone while she tried not to wake them. Ian gripped the handle of the flimsy accordion bedroom door and slid it open as quietly as he could muster, ready to crawl into bed and hopefully snap out of all this wallowing.

And… oh.

The lamp on the bedside table was still on, shining a soft glow into the cramped room— but Mickey was curled up and fast asleep on Ian’s side of the bed, his mouth half-open and his head tucked to his chin, his hair slightly mussed and ruffled by on the pillow he was gripping onto. Ian smirked—he knew it was getting late, and Mickey might be asleep when he got home—but there was something so soft and innocent about the way Mickey was laying, like he was breathing in the scent of Ian’s pillow, that made him stop for a moment before mindlessly crawling into bed next to him. Ian let himself linger in the doorway for a moment, just listening to the steady waves of Mickey’s breathing, taking in the sight of his flushed cheeks and the innocence in his sleeping face that was so bare and open that it almost hurt to look at.

Instantly, Ian felt something bloom in his chest from the pit of uncertainty that had been planted there. The Gallagher house had always been his home—but he realized in a sweeping moment that his best days here, ones where he felt solid and settled and himself rather than someone he was pretending to be, were the days when Mickey was nearby, the days when Mickey was just down the road.

Mickey made up the only other home he’d had, the only other place he’d felt this safe; they’d built a cocoon around themselves in the equally-as-shitty Milkovich house, smoking and laughing and whispering into each other’s skin in the darkness. Even as Ian’s grip on reality felt like it was slipping through his fingers, Mickey’s warm body next to his kept him rooted, in the same ways Mickey’s thrumming presence beside him kept him safe in all the blaring uncertainty of federal prison and imposing cell walls and the press of too many strange bodies in orange jumpsuits. Ian had always felt safe in the Gallagher house—but so much of that, since he was a scrawny fifteen year old, was because of the nights he spent awake in bed thinking up pipe dreams of a future with the loudmouthed kid he worked with at the convenience store, or when he could crawl into bed after a late night EMT shift and feel the solid, grounding weight in his chest as he remembered his road trip with Mickey to the border, and thought about Mickey having some kind of a better life in Mexico. So much of that feeling of home, especially through all of the epic highs and colossal lows, was just knowing that someone out there, by some miracle, loved Ian as deeply as Mickey Milkovich could— knowing he had a doorstep to run to when his own house was infiltrated by Monica and some stranger threatening to take Liam, or a bed to crash in for months when everything else in his life felt like shifting, unstable ground. So much of home was right here, and it always had been.

Ian quietly slid shut the squeaky folds of the door, discarding his towel and throwing a threadbare t-shirt over his head—and then he gingerly stretched out onto the opposite side of the bed beside a sleep-soft Mickey, his body radiating heat and the ends of his hair still damp from his own shower, smelling of the fresh scent of cheap shampoo and very slightly of toothpaste, mingling with the earthy smell of cigarette smoke and the other scent that Ian could only just describe as Mickey. Ian let himself lay there for a moment, listening to Mickey breathing— just breathing.

He reached over Mickey’s torso and shut off the bedside lamp, enveloping the room in a heavy cloak of darkness—but this time the silence didn’t seem so bad with Mickey’s steady breaths punctuating the quiet. He slid a hand over Mickey’s waist, resting his chin on the crook of Mickey’s shoulder and breathing in deep—he could feel Mickey’s heartbeat vibrating into his own chest, feeling the rise and fall of his ribcage as he held him close. Ian felt all the latent tension, the lungful of air he didn’t even know he had been holding, drain out of him—and it started to make him feel weirdly light and giddy to imagine sometime in the near future when he and Mickey would actually have a place of their own, a place where they could ride out the silence together just like this— a place with clutter and creaking floorboards and slanted moonlight of their own.

If the Gallaghers were “getting on with their lives,” like Lip had said—then this right here was the only thing that Ian was moving towards, just like he always had been.

#lol this was very contemplative and not very narrative heavy #but i hope u enjoyed?? #i wrote 90% of this in my phone notes lol #also the fiona hall of shame got me feeling weirdly emotional about how much ian must miss fiona!!!! #anyways ty so much for the prompt<333 #gallavich #gallavich fanfiction #gallavich fic #ian and mickey #shameless #shameless fic #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich

[monster-bait]

Quarantine; M Drider x F Witch, NSFW, Anzan & Ladybug

The streets were unnaturally quiet. 

Cambric Creek’s small town square was normally a bustle of activity at all times, day or night—residents crowding the small restaurants at each corner, coming and going from the bank, from the handful of locally-owned shops, the hardware store, the hair salon, the old-fashioned ice cream stand. 

You’d never seen such stillness downtown, and the lack of people around was unsettling.

The pharmacy, your destination, seemed to be busy enough. There was a giant “Wash Your Hands!” banner above the entrance, and as the automatic double doors opened for you, you could see the picked-over endcap of antimicrobial soap and hand sanitizer. Tissues, you mentally checked off, adding two boxes to your basket as you sniffed.

It was good of the community to take this virus seriously.

When the mayor had announced the Cambric Creek would be voluntarily self-quarantining, you’d expected there to be more of a fuss. There weren’t that many human residents, after all. The were community, it turned out, was also vulnerable to exposure, and they were a plentiful demographic. You’d read that there was concern that elves might also be in danger of contracting the human virus, and then that was that. Social distancing was now the community expectation.

It was day five. Five days of kids being home-schooled, of most businesses being shut down. Day five of no dining in restaurants or going to the nail salon or to the theater...not that you often did any of those things. In truth, quarantine hadn’t impacted your household all that much. You and Anzan both worked from home normally anyways, were both introverts who preferred staying in over nights on the town. Still, the fact that you couldn’t do any of those things was strangely chafing, and you’d left the house that day filled with an anxious restlessness.

Business had, surprisingly, picked up with the health scare dominating the news. Customers you’d not heard from in several years, customers who’d discovered you through word-of-mouth, customers you’d picked up through the new coven you’d joined. Requests for home cold remedies and cough suppressants and fever reducers arrived in your email with payments being sent electronically, and you’d been hard at work, getting your new client base and their families through the yearly cold and flu season.

The new coven was a group of younger witches who had, for one reason or another, not been accepted into the circle of sisters, but had welcomed you with open arms. 

It was strange, the unusual feeling of belonging, stranger still to find yourself in a group of equally socially-awkward fellows, particularly when they had placed you in a spot of such veneration. Your knowledge was advanced compared to many of the witches, your family history impressive, and you were enjoying your new role as a mentor and teacher. The aunts, you were certain, would be proud.

Now you were caught up on orders, and desperately needed to get out of the house.

You’d jumped in surprise when, upon entering the side door, a giant shadow loomed in the hallway. “Oh! You scared me!” 

Anzan remained as unsmiling as ever, cocking his head curiously as he sipped from a coffee mug. “You didn't say you were going out.”

“I needed to get some tissues, and I picked up a few cans of this disinfectant spray...I can leave it on the porch for people to spray their vials down when they do pickups, if it makes them feel better. I just needed to get out of the house for a little bit, this quarantine is driving me crazy already!” 

You laughed lightly, stretching to kiss the side of your boyfriend’s sharply-angled jaw. The thin cotton of his black t-shirt was stretched tightly over his well-muscled form, and his glossy, dark hair was loose, swept over one shoulder. You still went a bit dizzy over how handsome he was, you thought, reaching up to tap his scrunched nose.

“Quarantine?”

You watched the rapid wave of blinks or the smaller black orbs on his chiseled face, leading to his narrowed cobalt eyes. 

Your own brow furrowed in response. It had been five days, countless news stories and headlines, weeks of growing public panic all over the world. You couldn’t hold back your incredulous laugh.

“Anzan, you do know there’s a global pandemic happening? A major public health emergency?”

You grinned as he rolled his eyes at your question, tugging your hair before his massive legs carried him across the kitchen to set his mug in the sink. “Of course I know that, but when did we start a quarantine?”

“Five whole days ago! You know what this means? You need to leave the house more.”

You turned away to blow your nose in one of the newly-procured tissues, before washing your hands at the sink. You’d been fighting upper respiratory congestion for the past few days, had been drinking a home brew of steeped ginger, adding lemon and cayenne with raw honey, but the sniffles still lingered. As you put away the few groceries you’d also picked up, you realized the huge outline of your boyfriend was still visible on the floor. He was, you saw with a swallow, glaring at you.

“Little bug, you are still sick. And you went out? During a quarantine?!”

“It’s just the sniffles, I feel fi—”

You cut off on a squeak as you were scooped easily by his four massive arms. 

“You are not fine! You are not to leave this house,” he rumbled, moving on his many legs with terrifying speed though the house and up the stairs. “You are a human, you're the last person who should be going out. If you need something, I’ll go out for you. I’ll not have you risking your health needlessly.”

You had a mind to complain. You weren’t a child, nor were you a doll, and he was entirely too overprotective as it was. But when he ran a hot bath, stripping you with caressing fingers before setting you carefully in the steaming water, you felt hard-pressed to be angry. You watched quietly, tipping your head back against the tub as he added fragrant oil and mint to the water, clearing your sinuses. One of his lethally sharp nails dragged lightly down your leg, making you shiver beneath the water, before he took up your foot. The press of his thumb into your arch nearly made you dissolve, becoming one with the hot bathwater. 

It was long minutes before he spoke again, kneading your foot in silence from where he sat at the foot of the tub. He liked to sit behind you, most nights, washing your hair as you told him about your most recent coven meeting and the orders you were filling, the projects you wanted to start together on the house. The empty days of the previous several years seemed like a distant memory, replaced with his quiet, stoic companionship and fierce devotion. 

“You will not be so cavalier with your health, ladybug. No more going out.”

Your breath hitched when he lifted your foot to his mouth, his breath hot against your damp skin before pressing his lips softly to your ankle bone. Driders, you’d learned, were not free with their emotions. Anzan rarely indulged in human expressions of affection, but he showed you the depth of his feelings in his protectiveness, in his intensity, and the way he worried over you.

It frightened you, the world he had come from. Violent and guarded, drider society was secretive and closed off to outsiders. You knew that emotion was viewed as a weakness, and you appreciated the way he had softened, at least where you were concerned.

Sitting up in the water, you reached out for him, pulling his lips to your own as he lifted you once more, wrapping you in a thick towel. You loved him, more than you’d ever expected to, and you knew that keeping you safe and close was his way of showing you that he felt the same.

“I promise, no leaving unnecessarily.”

.

.

The steam coming off your work cauldron burned your eyes, and you turned away to blow your nose once more, staggering dizzily.

What you’d thought was just a cold had turned out to be the flu, and the aggravation of the constant congestion and fatigue was driving you to exhaustion. You knew that you just needed to rest, needed to cease working and stay in bed for several days, and you planned on it, were looking forward to snuggling beneath your quilt until you were well…

But there was one last order to finish, despite how wrung out you felt. One last order to finish, and you were missing a vital component of the recipe, a mistake you’d not have made if you weren’t battling your own illness.

Willow bark and camphor, coltsfoot and comfrey...and the bladder of a goose, which you did not have.

You could go out, make a quick run to the closest farm, the one where that nice human who was involved with your almost-tenant worked. You’d have to purchase a whole goose to be butchered, which seemed a terrible waste...you rarely missed the old circle of sisters, the ones who’d cast you out, but in times like this another seasoned witch with a well-stocked cupboard would be an asset to have as a friend.

You were just zipping the front of your coat, the pockets stuffed with tissues, when a familiar shadow filled the hallway.

Anzan had turned the attic apartment into his home office, rarely coming down during the afternoons, although he’d been appearing every few hours to check on you with a frown, grousing that you ought to be in bed before you’d snapped that you had work to do. Now he stood in the doorway, as if he’d known you were planning on leaving the house—numerous eyes narrowed, one set of his muscular arms crossed across his broad chest, the other set of hands resting where his hips would be, were it not for his arachnid lower half.

“Where are you going, little bug?”

You gulped guiltily and gripped the wall as you reeled, watching through glassy eyes as he came down the last several steps, a long-fingered hand reaching out for the door you stood before, sliding the chain into the lock with finality. The gesture was enough to break your stupor.

“But I need to go out! There’s an order to finish! I need to—”

“You need,” he interrupted sternly, “to go to bed. You’re still sick and you’re not going to get any better unless you rest!”

You liked having a dominant partner, liked knowing there was someone there to care for you, who loved you, whose steadfastness filled in the gaps of your insecurity, and you knew that he was right...but you couldn’t leave an order unfulfilled, not when you were so close to be finished. The room was still spinning, however, and suddenly the thought of being able to navigate the side door steps seemed daunting.

“I just...I just need...need to sit—”

The steps where he stood seemed impossibly far away as you staggered, reaching out for the wall which was similarly too wide a distance. The room pitched and dipped as strong arms came around you, and the world went black.

.

.

You couldn’t move your arms.

There was a strange weight encasing you, from your shoulders to your toes, and you felt an overwhelming need to be free from it. Panic seized your brain as you tried and failed to move once more. Your arms were pinioned to your sides and you were unable to lift your legs, your entire body seemingly frozen in place, locked in the dark. 

As you struggled to control your breathing, you mentally ran through everything you knew about being buried alive, wondering if that’s what had happened. You were too frozen for that scenario, you decided, panicking further. A coma? Could you have been suffering from the killer virus in the news after all? Had you slipped into a coma?!

As you contemplated the possibility, your eyes adjusted to the darkness. 

The exposed beams of the attic ceiling were above your head, and now that you’d ceased panicking, you were able to discern a familiar springiness to your prison. Anzan. You were in a web, you realized, one of your boyfriend’s sticky confines. You’d been captive in his webs many times, but he normally favored elaborately woven harnesses that braided around your curves, leaving you somewhat mobile. You’d never been cocooned before, and the feeling was more than just a little unsettling. 

You heard the heavy tread of his many legs creaking up the ancient staircase a few moments later.

“You’re awake.”

Straightforward and unsentimental, but you heard the relief in his deep voice, making you wonder how long you’d been asleep. A long, lethal talon caressed the side of your cheek, a gesture that you’d learned was more intimate than a kiss. Nodding wordlessly, you attempted to speak, finding your mouth bone dry. Instantly he turned, moving down the staircase with that unnerving drider speed, returning with a tall glass of cold water and a straw.

“Just a little bit at a time,” he murmured, after helping you to sit up by pulling on a section of webbing. The water was cool, soothing to your parched throat. After you had your fill, you were startled when he carefully lowered the webbing he held.

“But I want to get up!”

Anzan’s chuckle was like a swathe of black velvet, plush around you in your sticky confines. “That’s not happening.”

“But—”

“No,” he interrupted. “You are sick. You’ve been practically unconscious since yesterday afternoon, ladybug. Do you have any idea how worried I was? Since you seem to have no great attachment to your own health, I’m taking over. You can get up when you’re well and not a moment before.” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead, ignoring your pout.

You considered, as he left you once more, that the blasted flying potion would have come in handy right about then.

For the next several days you were a well-cared for hostage. 

Anzan was always there, plying you with water and juice, home made soup and toast, lovingly stroking your hair and holding tissues to your nose. “Honest, I’m full!” you’d assured him when he’d tried to hold another spoonful of the mysterious green soup to your lips. You normally took turns cooking for each other through the week, and your palate had yet to acclimate to drider cuisine.

He’d consented to remaking the web so that you were able to sit up on the second day, releasing you from the confining cocoon on the third morning, once he was confident that your fever had broken. You woke sometime before dawn on the fourth day, the sky beyond the small attic window showing a still-dark sky. Your cheek was pressed to the cool, familiar contours on Anzan’s bare chest, you realized, shifting slightly. Finally free from your webbed confines, he was holding you to his chest, cradled in his arms. 

For a long moment you were quiet and still, enjoying the weight of his heavy arms. You were wearing your favorite nightgown, you realized, worn kitten-soft, slimming your thighs. For the first time in over a week, you were able to breathe clearly, the heaviness in your head absent. His measures were extreme and you’d had your fill of his cooking, but he’d taken excellent care of you, effectively nursed you back to health. Snuggling against him, you closed your eyes, letting the rise and fall of his broad chest lull you back to sleep.

When you woke again, you’d been shifted. The web was surprisingly comfortable, you were forced to admit, and one of his long-fingered hands had slipped beneath your neck, cupping your head. Your body tingled. You were surprised, after being sick for so long, that your first physical impulse was to slide one of Anzan’s hands between your thighs.

You were surprised, but you did so anyways.

His deep groan vibrated the web around you, his fingers moving against you on their own after a few moments of leading. A flush spread down your chest as you thought of a day from the previous month, when he’d kept you suspended in a web with your legs opened wide, level with his thin-lipped mouth. He’d feasted on you repeatedly, nipping at your thighs with his sharp fangs, and bringing you to ecstasy repeatedly with his tongue. 

That was what you wanted now, you thought, squirming against the web, trying in vain to lift your hips to his stroking fingers. You were still too weak to take him fully, too fatigued to withstand the burn of his venom through your veins, a necessary precaution before taking his cock.  

“You’re not strong enough, little bug,” he murmured, as if he’d read your mind, sliding a long finger into you until you keened. “But there are other ways to give you what you need…”

The first stroke of his tongue made your thighs quiver, long licks that made you arch, desperately trying to meet his mouth. His massive hands curled under your knees, spreading you wide and pressing them to the springy web. His tongue pushed deeper. Lapping and sucking, filling you completely, the vibration of his deep groan against you making you gasp. 

He would go into a rut twice a year, you’d learned, eagerly anticipating the return of that heavy, potent smell; dark and alluring, advertising his seasonal arousal and desperate need to mate. That didn't mean that you were left unsatisfied in the months in between, of course. You didn't realize his own excitement rivaled yours just then, not until you felt the silver-white burn of his fangs.

It was barely a drop; not quite enough to leave you twisting, desperate to be filled over and over...but it was more than enough to push you off the ledge of an explosive climax. A strangled cry strained your still-recovering throat, as your body bent, attempting to fold itself in half in an effort to crash into his mouth. Anzan continued to bathe your clit with his tongue, sliding one finger, then two into you, curved to press into that spot within that made you come undone. On and on, you came against his tongue in one shuddering wave after another until you were nearly sobbing, spent and limp and thoroughly satisfied.

.

.

 There was a web over the front door. It was the first thing you noticed, as you came downstairs, later that morning. Despite the devoted care of your live-in nurse, it had been nice being able to get up and stretch, to take a shower and scrub your skin pink, to put on actual clothes.

As you moved down the curving staircase, the smooth wooden bannister cool beneath your palm, you saw the curious glimmer over the doorway. There must have been a breeze coming in, you thought with a frown, mentally adding checking the frames and re-plumbing the doors to the endless list of home improvements the old Victorian needed. 

You could smell coffee brewing, smiling as you approached the kitchen. Anzan had eagerly adopted the caffeinated beverage as his favorite human convention, and there was almost always a pot brewing. You wondered, as you pulled out your own mug,  if you might make it to the farm today. There was still a goose bladder in need of procuring, and you might even be able to barter with the centaur who owned the farm for whatever other unusual stock he might be able to provide. A stop at the grocery store, maybe the beverage store on the corner that stocked the imported sparkling elderflower water you liked...  

There was a web over the side door as well.

You gasped in outrage, spinning to find Anzan there, standing in the doorway, watching you silently. His blue eyes sparkled with mirth, and you were stunned to find his mouth–impossibly!–pulled into a smile, his fangs gleaming in the sunny kitchen.

“We’re on quarantine, little bug,” he reminded you cheerfully, moving across the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. “That means no leaving. You’re stuck with me, for however long it lasts.”

A long talon,deadly sharp yet gentle against your skin, caressed your cheek before you gripped his shirt and pulled him down, returning his smile with one of your own. “That’s the best way to spend a quarantine,” you assured him before pressing your lips to his.

#Exophilia #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster x human #monsterbait writes #drider #drider lover #drider boyfriend #Cambric Creek

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 5

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count- 2,497

Warning- Mentions of car accidents, fires, and alcohol.  Possible swearing. Fluff.

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo​.  The square filled for this chapter is the free space, Christmas cookies.  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.   This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

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Series Masterlist

Dean went in for a shift the next day taking Miracle with him and you went back out job and apartment hunting.  Still no luck on either front.  Heading home to Dakota you got out a few more Christmas decorations you had in boxes and added some in the kitchen, and up the wood staircase, being careful none of Dean's hard work got scratched. 

You were heading upstairs to your apartment when the front door opened. Turning around quickly you saw a blond woman walking in who seemed almost as surprised to see you as you were to see her.  Maybe Dean had found another girl to go out with and was keeping it a secret. 

“Hello.” You greeted her.

“I thought Sam was joking, if I had known he wasn't I would have knocked instead of using the emergency key.”

Not entirely sure what was going on you kept quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch what Sam said your name was. Like I said, I thought he was joking about Dean's girlfriend moving in." 

That got your mouth semi working. "Not Dean's girlfriend, just friend. Just sleeping together. No, not sleeping, living, I mean staying. I’m staying in the apartment. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you Dean's not girlfriend, I'm Jess."

"Oh your Sam's girlfriend."

"Yeah, actual girlfriend. We live and sleep together too." She says with a teasing smile. 

"It's nice to meet you, Dean's told me a little about you."  You told her about your eviction and Dean offering you a place to stay and the brothers moving you out.

She was extremely nice and had a very bubbly personality.  She was someone who would be friends with everyone. 

"I came over to look at something for Dean's Christmas present, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, your fine.  I just put a few more Christmas decorations out, I was going back to the apartment.  Do you need any help?”

“Do you know where Dean’s tools are?  He was telling Sam he broke something and we were going to get him a new part for Christmas.  I just need the model number.”

“Yeah, I can show you.”  As you led her past the living room she froze looking inside.

“I can’t believe there is an actual tree in here, with presents underneath.  In the years I’ve known Dean he doesn’t do much for Christmas at all.”

“I asked if we could, I’ve always enjoyed having a Christmas tree.”

She looks over at you.  “You’re good for him, girlfriend or not I think he really needs someone like you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond so you just smiled and led her down the hall.

The first half of Dean’s shift kept the guys moving.  One small restaurant fire, then car accident to a residential oven fire.  When things finally calmed down and it seemed like they might get a few minutes peace Dean headed to the bunks to try and get a some sleep with Miracle following along behind him.  After Dean layed down he was soon joined by his faithful companion. The boys managed to get a few hours before the alarm went off again.  Coming back this time they headed to the kitchen to find some food. Bobby would sneak Miracle some scraps when no one else was looking. Sitting around the table Sam turns to Dean.

“Get all your Christmas shopping done?”

“Yep, done and wrapped.”

Cas looks between the brothers, “I think I missed something, Dean went shopping?”

“Yep, Y/N got him to go to the mall with her.”

“Does this mean no gift cards this year?” Cas wanted to know.

“They sell gift cards at the mall.”

“I would laugh at that, but knowing you that’s exactly what you bought,”  Sam stared at his brother.

“Have to find out when you open it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely what he did.”  Benny injected.

“Alright you idjits” Bobby starts talking as he walks back in.  “Don’t forget the fundraiser party is in a few days.  Winchesters, you both are on deserts, aka Christmas cookies.  Benny and Cas have drinks, preferably not alcohol.”

“Hey Chief, why am I on desserts this year?”  Sam wanted to know.

“Do you remember last year's party?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember last year’s egg nog at the party?”

Sam’s smile gets bigger, “Yeah.”

“That’s why.  Most of these people are driving home, we don’t need them buzzed before they finish their first drink.  The list the other shifts are bringing is on the bulletin board by my office.”  He starts to walk away, “Oh and Dean.”

“Yes Bobby.”

“An edible dessert would be nice this year.”

“Hey, at least they looked good last year!”

Bobby left the room muttering about being surrounded by idjits on his way out. 

Dean arrives home to find you going through the cupboard, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Alright, I was just making a grocery list.  Is there anything you need?”

“Yeah I actually need to pick something up, I’ll come with you.”

Getting the dogs settled the two of you are off to the grocery store.  Going through the bakery section Dean stops and looks at the premade desserts.  “

Holding up a package of frosted sugar cookies and one of cupcakes he turns to you. 

“Do you think either of these are edible?”

“I would hope so since that is what the store is selling them for.”

“Well do you think they are any good, that they taste alright.”

“Probably, yeah.  If you want one, just get it.  I thought you were more of a pie lover though?”

“Oh I am, these aren’t for me.  We have a fundraiser party for the station and I’m on desserts.  I’m supposed to bring Christmas cookies.”

“And you want to take those with you.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He looks down at the cookies with such disappointment.  “Okay then one of those packs instead.”

“Dean, you aren’t going to buy a pack of cookies to pass off as Christmas cookies.  You need to make those.”

“Not a hundred percent sure they would be edible then.  Bobby said they had to be edible this year.” 

“I’ll help you don’t worry.  It’s another Christmas activity for you.”

“I really think buying those on the table would be easier.” 

Finishing the rest of the shopping you take Dean down the baking aisle.  “So what kind of Christmas cookies were you thinking.”

“I don’t know, I was thinking whatever kind I could buy in the store.”

“Alright.  How about Sugar cookies to start with.  How many do you need?” 

“There is usually a good number of people there.  Both Sam and I are bringing them.  Probably need a hundred each, maybe a few more.”

“What is this for exactly?”

“It’s a fundraiser we have down at the station.  People donate toys, and other needed items.  Santa is there for the kids.”

“Okay a big group of people take peanut butter out, don’t want to risk an allergy.”  You thought through your mental list of Christmas goodies.  “You could do the cranberry bliss bars I used to make at work, those are always a hit, and I have a recipe for white chocolate ginger cookie that’s really good.  If any of those interest you?”

“You would really help me bake all that?”

“Yeah, I like baking and I have nothing else to do.  Plus you are still letting me stay with you and won’t take my money when I try to pay you.”

“I’ll accept your payment in cookies.”

“Great.”

The two of you grab what you need from the aisle before heading to the checkout.

After arriving home the groceries you don’t need right now are put away.  The Cranberry bar is made first, so that it can cook while you roll out the sugar cookies.  He was chopping the dried cranberries into little pieces for the cake, and having way too much fun with the knife.  Miracle and Dakota joined you in the kitchen hoping to catch anything that fell. 

“I think the cranberries are small enough Dean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah.  Any smaller and they are just going to be red dots.”

Your plan was to keep it simple and just do round sugar cookies, but someone had other ideas.

“Where are the shape thingies?”

“What thingies?”

“You know the things that make snowmen, Santa and stockings.”  Dean’s hand was going up and down in the air, almost miming cutting out cookies.

“You mean cookie cutters?  I can go see if I can find mine.”  Heading to the apartment you looked through the boxes to see if you could find any.  Luck was on your side, finding a bag of cookie cutters and a rolling pin you made your way back to the kitchen. 

He rolled it out the first time and got it so thin you swore the cookies would have burnt the moment you put them in the oven.  Getting it all back in a pile you showed him how thick he wanted it to be before you started cutting out cookies.   He went through the bag of cookie cutters finding the ones he wanted to use.  Grabbing out a stocking, snowman, tree, and a dog bone.  To his disappointment you didn’t have Santa.

“Guess, I’ll have to get one for next year.”

You watched him do a few, “Okay I have to ask, what is with the dog bone cookies, how are they Christmassy?”

“Those are in honor of Miracle. We can decorate them red and green.”

“Okay.”

When the bliss bar came out of the oven Dean came and looked it over.  “Do you think it’s edible?”

“Do you mean right this minute, because it needs to cool first then it gets frosting.”

“I mean in general.”

“Yes, it’s edible.  I made these at the coffee shop all the time.  Why do you keep asking if things are going to be edible?”

“Bobby, the Chief, told me I needed an edible dessert this year.”

You looked at him a moment,  “Okay I have to ask, what did you take before for a desert that wasn’t edible?”

“Last year I went to the store and saw this container with what looked like cutout sugar cookies.  Some had frosting, some were decorated with just sprinkles.  They looked really nice.”

“Uh huh.  How did they taste?”

“Like bitter disappointment mixed with the tears of children.”

“Oh my.”

“They were so hard you couldn’t even bite into them and if you managed to break off a piece to eat, it had a sour taste to it. Guess that’s why they were on the sale rack.”

“That sounds,” You were trying to control your laughter. “Sounds very delightful.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here to try them.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. They looked good at least.”

“You are trusted with cookies again this year?  Aren’t they afraid of a repeat?”

“Apparently not as much as they were with Sam and the eggnog.  He dumped a whole bottle of rum in it last year.  He was moved to cookies this year.”

“Getting the guests drunk to be able to eat the food, sounds like the Winchester brothers put together an interesting Christmas party.”

Dean just laughs “Yeah we can get a little crazy now and then.”  

“What do your Christmas plans usually include?”

“It’s just my sister, her husband and I.  Donna is the under sheriff and some years she has to work part of the day.  This year she works in the morning, and I’m volunteering at a pet adoption day in the park.   Then we are having dinner at their house.

While the sugar cookies were in the oven the two of you worked on the batter for the ginger cookies.

“I’ll be honest,” Dean started to say.  “I don’t like gingerbread cookies.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why are we making them?”

“We aren’t.  These are ginger cookies, slightly different.  I promise they are good.  They will also be edible.”

Dean gave you a hard look before going back to the mixing bowl grumbling.  “They smell like gingerbread cookies.”

“They smell like ginger.  But if you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”

While the last of the cookies were in the oven you started on the frosting for the cranberry bar.  Dean kept trying to stick a finger in the bowl.  

“Stop it, what are you five?  You can have the bowl when the bar is done.”

“This doesn’t take like regular frosting what’s in it, cream cheese, butter, vanilla, powdered sugar, orange juice, and white chocolate.  It’s the last two that make it a little different.”

“It’s actually really good.”  You glared at him.  “Not that I was doubting your baking abilities at all. Mine 100% doubtable, but you’re great.”

Finishing that you two moved on to the sugar cookie frosting Dean poured a little too much powdered sugar in to mix and ended up with it all over the counter and on the dogs laying at his feet.  He snuck them each a cookie to make up for it.  Adding some red and green food coloring to two bowls then getting sprinkles out the two of you went to town.  

The last job of the night was dipping the ginger cookies in white chocolate.  When one had hardened up you gave it to Dean to try.

“I’m not sure I want that, I would rather have pie.”

“Just a bite, if you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.”

“Fine.”  Taking a bite he chews for a minute.  “Actually they aren’t bad, the chocolate tames some of the flavor.”

As the two of you worked together to clean up the kitchen, Dean suggested ordering dinner so you wouldn't have to clean up another mess tonight.  

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

While he was gone to grab dinner you took out a few other items you bought at the store.  Quickly whipping up a pie crust you grabbed the cans of filling.  Just not enough time tonight to make some.  Putting some crumble topping on, the pie was in the oven before Dean made it back. 

When he walked in a short time later he came in the kitchen with his nose in the air.  

“The cookies make it smell really good in here, I didn’t notice that earlier.”

“That’s not all the cookies, I may have a cherry pie in the oven for you.”

Oh his eyes go so big.  “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about one lately.”

“Man, you are amazing.”

Finishing dinner you took the pie out to cool.  That lasted about five minutes before Dean cut himself a giant slice.

Trying to get some work on the house done the two of worked together painting one of the spare bedrooms before the four of you headed to the living room to watch tv.  

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6

Tags- @winchest09​  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean​  @flamencodiva​ @deanwanddamons​ @jensengirl83 @abuavnee​ @lunarmoon8​ @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @mandalou29​  @igotmadskills​  @440mxs-wife​ @paryl​ @supernatural-love14​ @krazykelly​ @anotherspnfanfic​ @bobbie3939​ @deanwinchestersnightmoves​ @winchestergirl2​ @thoughts-and-funnies​

#fire fur & mistletoe #dean winchester #spnchristmasbingo #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #firefighter dean winchester #supernatural

[thepropertylovers]

"Do You Do All the Grocery Shopping or Does Your Wife Usually Do It?"

I was in the check out line at the grocery store the other day having a lighthearted conversation with the check out clerk and the woman in line behind me, when suddenly, things to a drastic turn…

I was talking to Pauline, the check out clerk, about these blueberry breakfast bars I buy for PJ. They’re one of the only snacks he actually likes, so I try to remember to buy them whenever I go to the store. Pauline, however, hates them- she tried them once and thought they were gross. I laugh as she tells me this because our family quite enjoys them. I asked her if it was because she thought they tasted too processed since she also just let me know she cooks at home a lot and recently made Easter lunch for her son and his family. She said she doesn’t remember why, she just knows she doesn’t like them. Point made.

Meanwhile, the lady in line behind me points to my Blackbox of Chardonnay and inquisitively asks if that’s wine. I perk up and say yes, yes it is! And it’s so good! I tell her how you get four bottles in one box and it’s delicious and we’ve been doing boxed wine for the last year since it’s such a better buy money-wise. She tells me she has been wanting to try it for a while and she just may get some for herself.

She asks if I have a big family that I’m feeding with all the food and training pants that I’m buying. I proudly say that we have three foster kids at home who, even though they’re only ages five and under, eat so much all day every day, and that it’s been fun and challenging trying to come up with new things to cook when we don’t order takeout (which, sadly, has been more times that not lately). She asks me a bit about the kiddos and I gush to her about them, as anyone would.

Sometime during all of these exchanges I notice two younger girls in the line beside me paying attention to the different conversations we have going on. They’re probably in their late teens or early twenties. They don’t say anything, but I could tell they were interested and listening.

She gets to the end of ringing me up ($400 later), and I jokingly ask Pauline if she could tell I hadn’t been grocery shopping in a while and then I dramatically tell her I was grateful just to make it out of the store alive since I was already there for well over an hour. Pauline laughs and the lady behind me who asked about the wine laughs and then, with a smile on her face, she asks me a sincere, seemingly harmless question:

“Do you do all the grocery shopping or does your wife usually do it?” 

I don’t know if it was because I had already been at the store for over an hour and was tired and had to pee or if it was because I was only half-listening as I was inserting my card into the chip reader, but for some reason her use of the word “wife” didn’t register to me. I was so confused! My wife? Well, I don’t have a wife? I’m gay. 

So, I asked, “My wife?” And she replied, “Yes?” Pauline leaned in. “Oh, I don’t have a wife,” I matter-of-factly explained. “I have a husband, but I am the one who does all the grocery shopping and he will stay home with the kids or I’ll get my mom to watch them if he’s working. Honestly, though, I don’t mind because this is like my me time where I get to relax and be by myself and get away from all the noise for a while and kind of do my own thing, so I actually really enjoy it.” No one said a word.

The atmosphere drastically changed in a matter of seconds and suddenly it was a lot quieter as I took my card out of the chip reader. Pauline finished clearing all the bags and the girls beside us tilted their heads a little as they tried their best not to look like they were still listening. Finally, after a few seconds of silence (which can feel like eternity when it’s just you and a few others standing within a few feet of each other), the lady behind me exclaimed, “Oh okay! My daughter lives in Ohio and she and her husband just bought a million dollar house and I couldn’t believe it because the house they have now is so big that I sometimes get lost in it!”

I wasn’t sure what her daughter in Ohio buying a million dollar house had anything to do with the conversation we were having, but nonetheless, I smiled and said, “Good for her!” I assume she couldn’t find anything else to say after my revelation that she no doubt wasn’t expecting, and said the first thing that came to her mind. Maybe? Who knows. I didn’t mind either way. Pauline handed me my receipt with a smile on her face and we both told each other to have a nice day and that was that.

The thing no one tells you when you come out publicly for the first time is that you’re going to have to keep coming out for the rest of your life; to co-workers, to teachers, to classmates, to neighbors, to random people in line at the grocery store. For some, it never gets easier. It took a while for me to feel secure disclosing that I am gay and that I have a husband, not a wife, to strangers. It’s all about how comfortable and safe you feel in the situation. I now take pride in telling people I have a husband, especially here in the south, because it’s kind of a way for me to say, “Look! I’m an actual person that exists and that you can see and who has a life and who does the same things that everyone else does.” 

It’s a fine line deciding who you want to spend your time on explaining you don’t have a wife or a girlfriend when you use the word “we” in a sentence. The exterminator I was talking to on the phone last year, who I had already decided I wasn’t going to use for reasons unrelated to anything other than price, innocently misgendered PJ and said “wife”. I was in such a hurry to get off the phone at that point because the kids were yelling and I had already made up my mind that he was too expensive, that I didn’t even bother correcting him. But the lady in the check out line was different to me because we were already having an honest, fun conversation about nothing, and since she asked, I found no reason to lie to her. I lied about who I was to everyone I loved for half my life until I met PJ; until I came out.

While I don’t think heterosexual should be the assumed default sexual orientation, I understand why people, especially in the area of the country we live in, automatically think your spouse/partner is someone of the opposite sex. It’s just part of life and part of being a member of the LGBTQ+ community, and it’s something we’ll most likely always have to go through.

I’ve found, though, that when I am upfront with someone and confidently tell them I have a husband and/or we have three kiddos, they never say anything negative to me. Maybe it’s because they’re taken off guard or because they want to save face and not come across as rude, but whatever the reason, when I am honest with someone and politely correct them when they misgender my husband, they are respectful and almost always apologize and continue on with the conversation like nothing happened.

Also, a lot of times (again, especially in the area we live in) people don’t talk to an openly gay person, face to face every day, so I like to always think of these moments of “coming out” as education for others who might not be so familiar with the LGBTQ+ community or who might have preconceived ideas about us. When you act like it’s no big deal that you’re gay and married and have kids, then maybe they’ll, too, realize it’s no big deal that you’re gay and married and have kids. Is it our responsibility to educate others who might not accept us? Maybe not, but we have an opportunity to open their eyes and show them we’re here and we’re not going anywhere, nor should we have to.

At the end of the day, I can feel joy and take comfort in knowing that I am gay, that I am happy as an out individual and, of course, that I not only buy those blueberry breakfast bars for my husband since they’re one of the only snacks he actually likes, but that I in fact do all the grocery shopping in our family. Not my husband, and certainly not my wife.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mchalowitz]

the woman is the king, part two

summary: a throughline of the matriarchal scullys; be they ethereal, sharp-witted, and ill-omened.

thank you to everyone who enjoyed the first part of this story! writing again has been so great and i’m excited for everyone to read where it goes from here! 

part 1: melissa

part 2: dana

———

The exam room is harshly lit, brutally overclean. When the doctor gives the diagnosis, it knocks the breath out of her, and she has the audacity to declare her gratitude. How could she.

The fragility of her age comes to mind on the drive home; her eyes prickle watching her copy of her oncology referral slide across the dashboard.

Dana is only thirty-three. Melissa was only thirty-three. She ponders her mother, Maggie, at thirty-three. Her destiny already decided; along for the military ride. She was carrying the fifth Scully child that year. Their matrarical line is cursed by the thirty-third year.

She simmers with the news for a few days; plotting methods of delivering impending doom. Mulder, the usual harbinger of bad news, is the one she tells first, and she believes using a clinician’s touch might soothe her.

The pronoun that binds them, the “we” travels from his vocal cords to their air between them. When he pauses, she can fill in the blanks of how he wants the sentence to end. We can do something about this or we can fix this. The problem is, there isn’t anything to be done.

Inside her head is a glass and cancer is the water from a faucet turned all the way on. They are merely waiting for the overflow.

--

Tara is pregnant; she is having a boy. Her brother’s wife is thirty-three. It must be so nice, to be dubbed a Scully, and yet remain so blessed at this foredoomed age. 

An appointment to be pumped with poison and Tara’s baby shower fall in the same week. What a scheduling nightmare, she jokes, when she declines the invitation with warm regards. Bill does not laugh and he buys their mother a plane ticket. 

The total lack of skeletal structure takes her over, has her melted into the couch. Scully finds the initial nausea passes quickly this time. It is the wave of self-consciousness from Mulder bearing witness to this betrayal of her body that lingers. 

“It must be kind of exciting,” Mulder comments. She is watching him wipe down the counter and she doesn’t remember a single time she has seen him willingly clean anything. He is not half-assing any of the responsibilities bestowed upon him by the Mrs. Scully. 

“It might be more exciting if it were someone else,” Scully responds, forgoing her usual diplomatic response on the subject. 

Mulder pauses, focuses in on her eyes, and in unsaid words, he nods in agreement. He throws the wet rag into the sink with a stomach-churning squelch and falls beside her on the couch. 

“You know,” she adds, “Melissa always said she wasn’t going to have kids until she was forty.”

Melissa would goad her into increasingly ridiculous futures; nothing is more ridiculous than futures that will never exist. Neither of them could have predicted such an outcome. 

When they were young, one Scully sister was rarely found without the other. It was only the intricacies of adult life that would split them apart. Melissa yearned for adventure; to shed ideals and expectations from their youth in far off places. Their parents envisioned a certain fate for their children, and Dana followed it, until she didn’t. 

As she conjures up those conversations about where their lives would go, she realizes she cannot even remember her voice. It rolls over her like a wave, the awareness of fading memories, and it cracks her guise held barely together. 

Her glassy eyes brim and she finally crumbles, feeling wholly pathetic. She lacks her usual resiliency that he is accustomed to seeing from her as she weeps, “My sister is gone and I have cancer, Mulder.”

“I know,” he says.

“I’ll miss everything,” she whimpers. The weight of mortality hits her; the decades worth of wasted holidays and the lost memory of her nephew’s birth. Scully will never stand in resolution with her partner after their tireless work for the truth. The loss of an uncomplicated life feels enormous. 

She laments what she was never sure of even desiring; the two-story in the suburbs, the babies of her own, the one true love...

“Let’s get married.”

--

His offer hangs in the air. Scully cries a bout of nausea and bolts for the bathroom. When she emerges, Mulder is there to tuck her into bed.

The sun sets and it rises again on a new day. She comes out of the bedroom apprehensively. Finding Mulder on one knee in her hallway isn’t an idea she can rule out completely. It wouldn’t even come close to the craziest thing she has seen him do.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Mulder rubs circles into his forehead with his cell phone pressed to his ear. She gets close enough to vaguely hear the caller on the other end, listen to the outrage behind, “I couldn’t even put the kettle on without her standing right behind me. In my own home, Fox,” and making it seem as though this is the only issue in the world that matters. And Scully kind of wishes that was true.

“That’s her job, Mom,” he replies. The tone of his voice almost makes her laugh. A polite but clear get me out of here she knows well that comes out during conversations with authority figures, midwestern cops, and not unsurprisingly, mothers.  

Their eyes meet, he looks at her as though she is his unsurpassable savior. He begs off the phone, making the usual adult child promises, and sets his cell phone down on the table. 

Scully commends Mulder for trying to be more involved with his family since his mother’s stroke. But what a fate he has, caring for the medically and emotionally broken women in his life. He gives her a tight lipped smile and she asks, “Is everything alright?”  

“Jury’s still out,” he declares with a shrug. He stands and starts walking toward the kitchen. “Can I get you anything? Water, toast, a ring?” 

A certainly interesting turn of events for them, a question that could develop into an actual conversation about the night before. 

“Mulder.”

“We could get married, Scully.” 

“This is so like you, Mulder. This is your stream of consciousness decision making,” she counters. Scully flattens her hands on the table, takes a breath, and attempts to change her tone to sound a little more kind. “I know the idea that I’m dying is bleak. But there are implications to getting married. I couldn’t do that to you.” 

Scanning Mulder’s eyes, Scully can see he understands what she means by implications. “Don’t think about that,” he tells her finally, “If you really believe this is the end, what do you still want to experience?” 

Scully’s eyes flash away, toward the door. Four years ago, she stood in that spot, and assured her sister unequivocally of her absolute disinterest in dating her new partner. Even if he were just a guy. 

Selfishness has often forced a wedge between them; a precursor to many experiences they would have as partners. His brilliance and humanity drew her in then, not unlike the way it does now. When the question was posed--just any guy--their debates were thrilling, a little flirtatious even, and now they can absolutely infuriate her, but she respects his ideals, and she knows that sentiment is reciprocated. 

On occasion, Scully is even a little selfish, and allows herself to appreciate just a guy with a little flop of hair that falls onto his forehead, and with the most charming smile. 

Whether it be guilt or admiration, Mulder wants her to experience everything before it gets taken away. She can admire the altruism. 

Mulder doesn’t ask again, he only suggests. And she accepts. 

--

The commencement of their marriage is without fanfare in a government building on a Friday afternoon with grocery store flowers and a safe kiss on the cheek to clinch the deal. There are no rings but he holds her left hand as they bound down the courthouse steps. During their late lunch at a local diner, the waitress notices their attire, and offers them a free slice of pie, any flavor they want, because it is a special occasion. 

A few paces ahead of her on the way to the car, Mulder opens her door. “Your getaway car, my bride,” he teases. The smile on her lips quickly fades. His jovial face morphs to confusion. 

But it’s the drip. Blood splatters on the clean, clear plastic protecting their chocolate cream. She tries to maneuver for her purse but he quickly procures tissues from the inside pocket of his jacket. 

He squats next to the passenger side of the car and holds tissues to the nose of his bride. 

--

Something is weirdly, intangibly incorrect. 

It starts with weekend plans. Mulder is already well aware of her singular escape, her monograph for the Penology Review, with its looming deadline coming up. 

He normally makes comments about her unwavering professionalism. It is a mutual agreement to keep their marriage to themselves. The federal government has no investment in the inner workings of their lives; they are legally married and they both know that could easily mean reassignment for both of them. It doesn’t stop him from sneaking in a few witticisms for his own amusement. 

Mulder knocks. That’s weird.

The wine is truly suspicious. Except for the occasional beer, Mulder was never much for alcohol to begin with, but what is especially bizarre is the sudden lack of concern over her doctor’s recommended meal plan. He had been following it down to the last letter, and while a glass of wine is not exactly forbidden, it is not the first item on their shopping list. 

“We never really talk much, do we?” 

Admittedly, the shared looks and delicate touches of silent communication is where they excel, but the question is still somewhat puzzling. Since beginning a routine of casual marital cohabitation, she believes they talk quite a bit. The minutiae of everyday life is often a topic of conversation in ways it never has been. 

Scully still plays along by agreeing that, no, they don’t talk. She sips wine and tells him true-ish stories of Marcus, the prom date of a Scully, but not herself, and the infamous pumper truck scandal involving her brother Charlie. 

Romantic intimacy has not exactly been a component of their marriage and she has found that cancer does not make one feel like the most desirable of specimens. He has never expressed anything to make her believe he feels anything for her beyond friendship, despite the deep affection they share. 

He leans in now; his eyes closed and head cocked. Kissing him isn’t a repulsive idea, but it just seems off, because Mulder is acting so strangely out of character. 

Scully scrambles off the couch to get away from the man that is so clearly not her partner. Absolutely horrified, she stares at Mulder, and has no reservations when he steps forward to cuff the pathetic and vile man that invades her living room.  

--

Many lines have still not been crossed and she doesn’t think they ever will be. The cancer is still aggressively present with the treatments doing very little. 

Scully prepares herself for the eventuality of hospitalization, potentially for good, and it is very tempting to keep that from Mulder, to allow them to remain in their bubble, but she knows that isn’t fair.

Her car idles on the street outside Harold Spuller’s care home and three soft raps sound on her driver’s side window. She sucks in air deeply and wipes the tears from her cheeks before rolling down the window.

“I didn’t mean for things to get so heated back there.”

“Me neither,” she agrees. When her eyes flash up to his, so guilty and fond, her words fall out in a tumble, unable to prolong this evasion of the truth any longer. “I don’t know why I lied to you. I’m not fine. My treatments aren’t working and my doctors don’t think another round will change that.”

“I’m in this with you, Scully.”

“I know you are,” she affirms. She ducks her head down toward the steering wheel, like a little girl caught eating dessert before dinner. “I’m tired, Mulder.” 

“I’ll follow you.”

His headlights shine in her rearview mirror, trailing behind all the way back to where they began this night in Georgetown. Arriving in the apartment, she shuts the door behind them, and informs him, “I’m going to take a shower,” and he nods, reaching forward to squeeze her shoulder. He loosens his tie and starts meandering toward the bedroom. 

The phantom ghost of his touch remains on her shoulder and it reminds her of his romantic soul that she is only now been introduced to. Mulder is more emotionally open and affection than she is. He treats her like a wife. They are married, after all. 

Their marital bliss is of their own design; enjoyably innocent with its lack of certain intimate elements left largely undiscussed. However, there is delight to be found in mere shared company. With a no-work policy now enacted in her home, the opportunity to see funnier, more relaxed, and domestic sides of each other often makes it feel as though their marriage could be real. 

An unspoken agreement to live this arrangement without rules creates something representative of authentic matrimony. Ignoring the initial awkwardness when sharing a bed leads to the normalization of pressing into his warm side each night; falling asleep faster and deeper. Leisurely playing with his hair while reading on the couch one evening introduced a few form of relaxation they both enjoy. He even calls her “honey” occasionally, and she must admit, it makes her feel pleasantly warm to hear it. 

It wasn’t right to keep him out of the loop.

Sitting on the tile shower floor, Scully washes the last six hours from her skin. In an attempt to prove to herself, to everyone, that she can still do this, she pushes herself too far. The best decision for the case was to take down the nurse. For her fragile body, not as much.

A small box sits on top of her towel. She picks it up, weighing it gently in her palm.

Mulder already lies innocently under the covers and appears deeply enthralled in his nighttime reading. He looks very youthful and sweet in his wire-framed glasses and his large feet poking out at the end of the bed. She presents the box in question and inquires, “Mulder, what’s this?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs. He glances up briefly, taking off his glasses. “Oh. Wedding present.”

Eyebrows drawn together in confusion, she sits down on top of the comforter, and cautiously opens the box. Her eyes fall on a gorgeously dainty bracelet with a small diamond affixed to a silver chain. 

“I don’t know what to say,” Scully finally admits. Mulder smiles, wordlessly leaning forward to close the distance between them. His kiss finally comes with soft lips and firm resolve.  

--

A keen ear kept on the exchange occurring in the hallway, Scully hears the malice in “let her die with dignity,” the intense intent to guilt. Since childhood, Bill has been masterful at identifying a scapegoat. 

Appearing at her bedside, Scully takes her brother’s hand. It has been quite some time since they were together in person and she is aware she should focus on the grand gesture of his presence. But they have always sparred on injustice and she just witnessed him as the purveyor. 

“I don’t want you to talk to him like that,” she tells him. 

It takes almost nothing to generate a quarrel between the two of them. “You keep defending him, Dana, and I don’t see what there is about him to protect,” Bill argues. “You wouldn’t even be in this situation if...”

“Fox has been very helpful,” Maggie interrupts. Their mother is well versed in deescalating the disputes of Dana and Bill; the oil and water of the Scully children. “Bill, sit down and be civil.”

Where Mulder pushes, Bill pulls, and Dana is left somewhere in the middle. Something akin to a jealous feud brews between the two men in her life; each vying for the role of ultimate fixer. It is only when Mulder orchestrates the impossible that her brother cannot deny the miracle. 

Most conversations were plans for a comfortable end or perhaps a prolonged, managed experience. The concept of remission, a life without the dark cloud of cancer, was a possibility never even considered. 

The day of her discharge finally arrives after a final weeklong observation of her progress, and Mulder, as a now regular fixture of the post-critical care ward, shows up to her room early as usual. He drops a bag on her empty hospital bed. “I brought you some clothes from your apartment,” Mulder informs her. “Unfortunately I couldn’t find anything as uniquely versatile as the hospital gown.” 

“I appreciate the effort,” she smiles, ripping open the plastic bag.

Scully can feel an awkwardness emanating from him with three feet between them. She is taking stock of the items he provided when he finally speaks, “Listen, I can be out--” 

With a week to discuss the topic, neither of them were brave enough to allow it. The last thing Scully wants Mulder to believe is she married him to take advantage of a kindness he extended to her. It was done with such a different outcome in mind; a selfless act with an outcome to be bathed in heartache. 

Now, there is no plan on how to approach where things will go from here. Scully didn’t ever think she would be in a position to have to consider it. 

At the very least, they deserve time to enjoy a lack of this particular impending doom. 

“Should we get dinner tonight?”

If there is anything they deserve more of, it is time.

It is health.

It is stability.

#x files #xf fic #dana scully #fox mulder #msr

[arysafics]

prompt: clarke finds bellamys old online dating account thats obvious he hasnt used in forever, but she sees all his preferences are exactly the opposite of her (i.e. tall, brunette etc.) which makes her insecure. then he can convince her she hit him out of nowhere?

haven’t had much time to write lately since i’ve just moved apartments, but here’s a little something to tide you over until i can finish my next proper fic

like a freight train

rated t, ~1.7k words

Clarke hasn’t been on a dating site in forever, so honestly, it’s kind of fun to help Emori set up her profile. Things hadn’t ended well with Murphy, and after a string of Tinder hookups, Emori claims she’s ready to really move on and try a proper dating site, the one Raven met her current boyfriend Shaw on. There’s a sign-up fee and everything.

So Raven and Clarke have had fun picking Emori’s best photos, writing her bio, and selecting all her preferences, while Emori vetoed all their worst suggestions, and now they’re onto the really fun part—vetting the men.

They’re crowded around Emori’s laptop, sitting on her living room floor. A selection of thirty matches have come up for Emori, and the way it works is you don’t actually get to see the guy’s photo unless you agree to the match based solely on his biographical information.

“Why do all men either love fishing or cars?” Clarke asks, after the fourth man Emori has declined based on the fact that he will clearly never love a woman more than he loves his four-wheel drive.

“It would be fine if they had other interests too,” Emori says. “I like cars. And I could like fishing, I don’t know, I’ve never tried it.”

“Ooh, okay, what about this guy?” Raven interjects, then starts reading his bio from the screen.

“Looking for someone like-minded who enjoys fitness and the outdoors, particularly hiking and cycling. I also love kayaking, rock-climbing, soccer, and basketball. Would love to find someone to share those passions with me. I love a woman who can cook, not because I can’t (I can) but because I think great food is a way to share culture, history, and passion.

I want somebody laidback, who isn’t afraid to go with the flow and be spontaneous. I don’t vibe well with people who are intense or highly-strung. I hate country music and refuse to listen to it, yes, that includes Taylor Swift. Especially Taylor Swift.”

Clarke interjects then. “Emori, I don’t know about you, but I could never be with a guy who doesn’t like Taylor Swift.”

“You know I only listen to metal.”

“Shh, I’m not done,” Raven huffs. “Looks aren’t as important, but I’m partial to tall brunettes.”

Clarke snorts out a laugh. “This guy would hate me.”

“Yeah, but he’s perfect for Emori. What do you think, Em?”

“First halfway decent guy, I vote yes.”

Raven, who for some reason is the one in control of the laptop, hits the accept match button. Immediately, the man’s photo and name pops up, and immediately, Clarke’s stomach drops. Raven and Emori both erupt into fits of uncontrollable laughter. Because, of course, it’s Bellamy. Clarke’s very own boyfriend.

“Clarke, you better watch out, Emori’s going to steal your man.”

“He must have lowered his standards since then, Clarke,” Emori jokes. Clarke isn’t laughing.

Actually, quite the opposite. She feels like she might burst into tears. Her chest is all tight, and she knows her reaction is probably unjustified, but she can’t help it.

“Grow up, Clarke,” Raven says, rolling her eyes when she notices Clarke’s expression. “We’re just kidding around.”

“I know,” Clarke snaps. “I don’t care about that.”

“What then?” Emori asks. “You don’t think he’s actually still using this, do you? The photo is obviously so old, he clearly hasn’t been on here in years. Look,” she adds, pointing out the last active section on his profile, “last active 2012.”

Clarke nods, her jaw tight. It’s not that either, but she doesn’t feel like explaining it to her friends. “Yeah, you’re right,” she says, forcing a smile. “I’m being stupid.”

“Exactly,” Raven agrees. “Okay, who’s the next guy?” She turns her attention back to the screen.

“I think I’m going to take off,” Clarke says. “Bellamy gave me a shopping list, I’m supposed to pick some stuff up so he can make dinner.”

“Okay, whatever,” Raven says. “See you later. We’ll let you know if Emori finds the love of her life.”

Clarkes picks herself up off the floor, says a quick goodbye and hurries out of there. She’s not really in the mood anymore.

She does Bellamy’s grocery shopping on the way home, taking longer than she needs to, because for once she’s actually not eager to see him. The things he wrote in his dating profile haunt her. How is it possible that when he described his ideal woman, he described the exact opposite of Clarke? If those are the things he wants, what is he even doing with her?

She’s not tall, or brunette, for starters. Clarke hates fitness and the outdoors, and she especially hates sports. She’s not a terrible cook, but she’s not exactly Masterchef material, and she doesn’t enjoy it, just does it out of necessity. She’s intense, and uptight, and high-maintenance—and she fucking loves Taylor Swift.

Emori was right, Bellamy clearly lowered his standards.

She makes it home eventually, and Bellamy is already in the kitchen, getting dinner prepped. He’s got on his navy apron, that Clarke bought for him, with his name specially embroidered on the front.

Clarke dumps the bags of groceries on the counter, and Bellamy looks up from where he’s chopping onions, and gives her a heart-melting smile.

“Just in time,” he says, putting the knife down and wiping his hands on his apron. He reaches for her, with the clear intent of kissing her, but Clarke pulls away from him, still hurt from reading his old dating profile. His wounded expression makes her feel a little guilty, but not enough to overshadow her dejection.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

Clarke takes a deep breath. She has to talk about the calmly and maturely—they promised each other they always would. No passive-aggressive comments, or screaming matches, or walking out in silence because of a lack of proper communication. That’s how Clarke’s last relationship ended.

“Raven and I were helping Emori set up a dating profile today,” she explains. “And one of her matches was you.”

Bellamy hesitates, and she can see the gears turning in his head. “And you think…I’m still on dating sites?” he guesses. “I’m not, Clarke, I promise. I was on a few back in my twenties. I guess I didn’t delete all of them.”

“No, I know,” Clarke says. “It’s not that. It’s—it’s what you said in your bio. About what kind of woman you want.”

Bellamy groans. “Did I say something grossly offensive and misogynistic? If so, Murphy probably wrote it, he was helping me out with them.”

Clarke shakes her head. “It was all perfectly respectable. It’s just—it wasn’t me.”

Bellamy stares at her. “Well—I didn’t know you then.”

“No, but you seemed pretty certain about what you wanted. A fit, tall, brunette, who loves sports and cooking and sucking your dick.”

“I’m sure I didn’t say that last one. Besides, you do love sucking my dick.”

“That’s not the point,” Clarke huffs. “The woman you want is the complete opposite of me. Why are you even with me, when you could have anyone you want?”

Her voice cracks on the last sentence, and the tears spill over. She tries to blink them away to save herself the embarrassment, but it’s no use.

“Clarke, baby,” Bellamy says, all gentle and loving. He pulls her into his arms, and she lets him. There’s nothing more comforting than his embrace, even if he’s partly the reason she’s upset.

“I have exactly who I want,” he says. “All that other stuff is meaningless, just dot points on a list I thought I could check off and magically find the perfect partner. I was what, twenty-five? And a complete idiot. I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“But I’m not laid back or fun, and I don’t go hiking with you, or canoeing or whatever,” she sobs into his chest.

Bellamy kisses the top of her head, then pulls her back so he can look into her eyes. “Truth is, I once thought that stuff mattered. I was counting on meeting that woman, I was on every dating site, looking for her. But then I met you, and there was no magic dating algorithm that could have predicted that. You hit me like a fucking freight train, Clarke. As soon as I met you, I knew I was done for. You’re it, you’re absolutely it for me. I love your intensity, I love that you care so much, that you’re so organised. I love how you pretend to care about sports for me. I love cooking for you, knowing how much you appreciate it because you hate doing it yourself. I love you. I love you. Understand?”

Clarke nods, and she’s absolutely bawling now, but for entirely different reasons. He’s said he loves her a million times, of course, and she loves hearing it. But he’s never laid it out quite like that—never had the reassurance of him telling her he loves her exactly as she is, not in spite of her faults but because of them.

“You’re still crying,” he says worriedly. “Do you still not believe me? Because—”

Clarke cuts him off with a wet kiss, still half crying. He’s too surprised to kiss her back properly before she pulls away. “I love you too,” she says.

He nods, a little bewildered.

“I love you,” she repeats, kissing him again, and this time he kisses her back. “I love you, I love you, more than you will ever know.”

He brushes his nose against hers, then presses his lips against her tear-stained cheek. “I think I might have some idea,” he whispers.

“You know, in your dating profile,” Clarke murmurs, “you also said you hate Taylor Swift.”

Bellamy chuckles. “Well, you definitely fixed that,” he says. “Is that what you were really upset about? Did I not sing every lyric when we went on that road trip and you played nothing but Taylor Swift?”

“Good point,” Clarke says. “I think I’m definitely a good influence on you.”

“Definitely,” Bellamy agrees. “Now, back to Emori’s dating profile—you know this is going to crush Murphy, right?”

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #mine #prompts filled #Anonymous

[stilestilikeslydia]

Takotsubo Cardiomyopathy: Part Two

so I’m almost never on tumblr anymore, but in case any of you remember my old fics, I wanted to come back to let you know that I FINALLY finished the second part to this fic that I wrote for the Stydia Big Bang almost four years ago haha

there’s also some excellent art for it that @wellsjahasghost and @sydrianssage made for it way back in 2017 that you can check out here and here if you would like :)

enjoy!

(Rated M)

“I can't believe I've been a ghost for ten years, and nobody thought to tell me about the new Star Wars trilogy until today. ”

“Stiles, nobody even knew you existed until last month.”

Kira slapped Malia’s knee—lightly, because Kira was still incapable of giving an actual reprimand. “Well, we’ve told you about it now,” she said, offering him her brightest smile. “What did you think?”

“I think… I miss my blissful ignorance from eight hours ago, when I didn’t know that George Lucas greenlit this absolute garbage fire,” Stiles whined. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, The Force Awakens started out with a lot of potential, and the cast is full of extremely hot and talented people, but what the fuck?! My only regret is that my death tree wasn’t transformed into a desk in the writers’ room for these movies, or I could have haunted those dipshits until they figured out how to write a plot that actually made sense.”

“Your only regret, huh?” Lydia asked, keeping her tone dry and incredulous.

“No, you're right,” Stiles said, his expression instantly transforming into the biggest shit-eating grin Lydia had seen since before he'd died. “I also regret not inventing ectoplasmic grocery stores before my death. It’s unfair that I cook for all of you and don't get to eat any of it.”

“Not our fault you actually enjoy cooking,” Malia pointed out. “And depleting Lydia's bank account.”

“I am going to strangle you,” Lydia said. “Werecoyote strength or not.”

“But then who’s going to sit next to you in bars and make fun of everybody we see?”

“Yeah, you need her for that,” Kira added. “I’m terrible at judging people, and so is Scott.”

Scott toasted her with a grin, looking relaxed and comfortable against the armrest of the oversized couch he was currently sharing with a ghost and a realtor. Stiles took one look at him and snorted.

“Scott’s a terrible judge of many things,” he agreed. “People… the distance between a car bumper and the curb… movies…”

“Movies?”

“Yes, Scott!” Stiles crowed, now fully recovered from his initial disappointment. “This trilogy may have been a mess, but in order to watch it, you must have seen the other two trilogies too, and that means you have to know how great they are! Admit it, Star Wars is amazing, you were wrong, and I was right! Not watching it with me earlier was the biggest mistake of your life!”

“Maybe not the biggest,” Scott said, the grin on his face slipping a little. Lydia’s fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass. “Anyway, I already knew the Star Wars movies were good. I watched them junior year.”

“Junior year?! ” Stiles squawked, so surprised that he started sinking into the couch. “And you never told me?! What the hell, man, all those times you pretended not to get my references and you—”

“Of college,” Scott clarified, and the room went silent.

Lydia set her wine glass down on the coffee table with trembling fingers. The tapping of glass on wood sounded like a gunshot, a bullet to the lungs. There was a crescent moon outside. For one heart-shattering moment, Lydia swore she could smell wolfsbane.

“I’m going to go get a glass of water,” she said, voice too harsh to her own ears, bouncing off the walls and clanging in her skull. Another bullet to the lungs.

The next thing she became aware of was the press of a cabinet knob against her back, the solidity of a hardwood floor underneath her body. She was leaning against the kitchen island, eyes level with the cabinet that Stiles had poked open over and over again to entertain Brooke all those weeks ago. Tonight, though, when she opened it herself, there was nothing inside.

Lydia clung to the knob anyway and tried not to cry.

It wasn’t Stiles who came to check on her after a few minutes, or Scott, or even Kira. Instead, Malia was the one who tugged the cabinet door out of Lydia’s hand and dropped to the floor, flinging her legs out to one side and meeting Lydia’s eyes without flinching.

“Kira started talking about BB-8 again,” she said. “Scott looked like he wanted to change the subject.”

Lydia pressed her lips together, looked away, and settled her hands on her knees with careful precision. “That was nice of her. I’m sure he did.”

“He told me, you know,” Malia continued without missing a beat. “About what you told him. About Stiles wanting you to sell the house.”

Lydia’s fingers clenched around the hem of her dress. “Yes.”

Malia narrowed her eyes. “Are you going to?”

“I have to,” Lydia said, “or Yvenne will just find another realtor.”

“Okay, maybe,” Malia said. “But who are you going to sell it to ?”

Lydia froze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” she said. “I know you’ve been considering it. You’ve been eyeing the curtains in the living room like you can’t wait to change them all night.”

“Maybe I just can’t believe Yvenne expects me to find a buyer for this house when it’s been decorated so poorly.”

Malia rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me. I’m more observant than you think, and I’m not Scott or Stiles. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

Slowly, precisely, Lydia tilted her head and met Malia’s piercing gaze. “You know what you’re saying, right? Scott and Stiles would try to stop me.”

“Yeah,” Malia said. “And that matters, because Lydia Martin always does what people tell her to do. And I had a normal childhood. And math was my favorite subject in high school.”

After a long moment, Lydia stood. Malia mimicked the movement. “I just think we’ve already lost enough people,” Lydia admitted. “I don’t want to lose him twice.”

“Like I said. I’m not going to try and stop you.”

For a while, Lydia told herself that she hadn’t made up her mind. She let Stiles cook her every meal and listened to him relive memories from high school and the two years of college he’d gotten to enjoy, doing his best to help her appreciate the times they’d shared together without losing herself in them. She fell asleep on the couch with him while they watched movies together and pretended that she didn’t know he’d been playing with her hair when she woke up. She allowed him to teach her how to cook and change the oil in her car, life skills that she’d always expected him to handle in their relationship, life skills he wanted her to master before he moved onto wherever he expected to go once he stopped being a ghost, but—

But then, on a Thursday afternoon a week before Yvenne’s deadline, Lydia’s phone rang.

They were in the middle of making stir fry, but Stiles nudged her with the spatula he was using—one loophole he’d found for their inability to make physical contact—and told her to answer it “just in case.” “It could be important, Lyds.”

That was precisely why she didn’t want to answer it, but with a long-suffering sigh and a pointed glare, Lydia wiped her hands off on a paper towel and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello, Lydia Martin? This is Shea O’Malley.”

Predictably and irksomely, Lydia’s heart rate increased. “What can I do for you, Shea?” she asked, smoothing on her realtor’s smile even though Shea couldn’t see. Between the way Stiles’s eyebrows were raised and the way his head was tilted so he could hear Shea’s half of the conversation, Lydia needed the extra armor.

“Well, Ben and Piper and I have been shopping around the neighborhoods near that lovely red house you showed us, but we simply haven’t found a place that compares. After a long discussion, Ben and I have decided that there’s no use searching any longer. We would like to place an offer on that red house.”

Lydia’s head was all white noise and bloodstains and terror. She tried to picture saying goodbye to Stiles and watching him dissolve into whatever dimension the rest of their dead loved ones had ended up in. She tried to imagine handing the keys over to the O’Malleys and leaving the red house for good. She tried to convince herself that it was possible for her to move on.

But like the O’Malleys, Lydia discovered that it was no use.

Once upon a time, it might have been possible for her to move on. But now Lydia’s heart was inextricably entwined with this red house.

The only difference was that Lydia had the ability to hold onto it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the white noise fading to a treacherous whisper. (So, basically nothing. Treacherous whispers were old friends in Lydia’s mind.) “You’re too late. The red house has already been sold.”

Stiles froze. Lydia froze, judging his reaction. Over the phone line, Lydia heard Shea’s breath catch, and then she sighed. “Are you certain there’s no chance of the buyer changing their mind? I mean, if we could place a counteroffer—”

“I’m afraid that there’s no amount of money you could offer that this particular buyer wouldn’t match,” Lydia said with as much gentleness as she could muster. The O’Malleys really were a nice family. “They’re quite dedicated, have a substantial savings account, and are at least as attached to the house as you are.”

Shea’s second sigh was only slightly less audible than the first. “Well, that’s it, then,” she said tiredly. “Thank you for all of your help, Lydia. We all thoroughly enjoyed meeting you the other day.”

“If you still haven’t found a different house in the next few weeks, let me know and I’ll help you keep looking. Free of charge,” Lydia blurted, because she was going to keep the house and Stiles and therefore she could afford to offer a little kindness to the family whose dream home she had just poached.

“Why, that’s very kind of you,” Shea said, oblivious to Lydia’s silent betrayal. “We may just take you up on that offer. Thank you again.”

And after the exchange of a few more pleasantries, she hung up.

“What the fuck?” Stiles said into the resulting silence. “A buyer made an offer on this house, and you didn’t tell me about it?”

Lydia set her phone on the counter. “You don’t really want me to leave.”

Stiles dropped his spatula. “What?”

“Come on, Stiles,” Lydia said. “Who do you think you’re talking to? If you really wanted me to move on, you never would have opened your mouth. I would have walked into this house on that first day, sold it, and walked right back out without ever knowing that you were here.”

“I—” Stiles spluttered. “I was surprised, and I just—”

“Maybe,” Lydia replied. “But that could have been it. I told you not to make it difficult for me to sell this house, and instead you scared off buyer after buyer until I figured out who you were. You say you want me to move on, but you’re here, Stiles. You’re standing right in front of me, and I’m never going to move on when I could have this instead!”

“What do you want me to say?” Stiles demanded. “Do you want an apology? Because I know you deserve one. I—I—I’m sorry for talking to you, I’m sorry for cooking you dinner, I’m sorry for being here! I didn’t mean to make this harder for you, and I’m sorry that I did! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“NO!”

It wasn’t a banshee scream, but it left Lydia hoarse and aching all the same.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” she whispered. “I just want you to want me to stay.”

“Well, I am sorry, Lyds. And I can’t give that to you.”

“Stiles—”

“Pick up the phone, Lydia. Call the O’Malleys. Tell them the buyer changed their mind.”

Lydia took a deep breath and looked at the man who was the love of both her life and whatever came after that. “No.”

“Lydia.”

“No, Stiles! I’m not going to do that! These last few weeks have been the happiest weeks of the past ten years. You can’t honestly stand there and expect me to give that up.”

“That’s the thing, though,” he said. “I’m not actually standing here.”

“That doesn’t matter to me.”

“But it should.” Stiles reached out, brushed his fingers through a loose strand of her hair, and then stepped away. “I might not be able to stop you from buying this house, but that doesn’t mean I have to give you a reason to live here.”

There was a whoosh, as if he was opening up that interdimensional doorway again, and then he disappeared.

On the stove, the stir fry began to burn.

(read the rest on ao3)

#stydia #stydia fics #teen wolf #teen wolf fic #stydia fanfiction #stydia fic #tw #martinski #i wrote this #the taco fic #will anyone read this after all this time? that is the question lol #are any of you still on tumblr? that is also the question

[frostmarris]

notes: hope you enjoy! this ended up being almost twice as long as the first chapter lol but i finally got to the scene thats been in my mind for over a year

Chapter Two

If Deidara was upset when he saw her without the gloves the next morning, he didn't let it show on his face. 

Sakura steps out to find him etching shapes into the snow with the toe of his boot, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and his breath visible in the chill of the winter morning. He looks back as he hears her shut her door, glances to her hands, and turns around to face her with a grin that never falters. She's relieved that he doesn't comment on his gift (or lack thereof) but inwardly feels guilty as she knows he's probably disappointed. But she doesn't want to ruin the gloves by wearing them before they're ready, so she'll take his silent disappointment just for this morning and make sure he sees her wearing them tomorrow.

She has the weekend off, which means today is the perfect opportunity to get the gloves taken care of and run some errands. Of course, she doesn't mention to Deidara that she's not headed to work this morning, wary that he might ask to tag along.

Not that she wouldn't mind him accompanying her for a grocery trip. It's just that her first stop is somewhere… special.

Deidara walks her to the bus stop just like always, subtly hinting for her to drop some sort of baked good off at his place sometime - "Sucks that the apples don't grow in the winter. There aren't a lot of good pie fruits in season this time of year, yeah?" - and she makes a mental note to see what she can find at the farmers market. If she has no luck there, she can always go for canned cherries or just cave and make cookies again.

Sakura waves goodbye as the bus pulls in to the stop and she ends up in a seat on the other side, her window facing the street and not letting her see when Deidara’s smile turns a little sad as he heads home.

She idly checks her emails on her phone as the bus drives its route, getting off at the third stop rather than the fifth. It's a short walk down the downtown avenue, the shops and restaurants not as busy yet as they will be later in the day, until she reaches a small antique store nestled between a smoothie shop and a dog groomer. It's only just opened and Sakura heads in, waving in greeting to the old man behind the counter next to the door.

He looks up from the watch he's tinkering with, easily recognizing Sakura and waving her off.

"Ah, the pink one again," He grumbles, that ever-present grouchy look settled on his face. "Go on, go on. Head on in - and mind the lamp! Some little shit nearly knocked it over last week."

"Yes, sir, of course!" Sakura calls with a small smile as she heads to the back of the shop. "Have a good morning, Mr. Masumi."

He answers with a dismissive, "Bah!" and she carefully makes her way through the crowded, winding path of the antique shop until she reaches a door at the back left corner. Heeding the shop owner's warning, she edges past the lamp settled on the edge of an old dresser as delicately as she can, being sure not to bump the stained glass lampshade with her elbow. Once through the door, Sakura passes a second one on her right marked 'Cleaning Supplies' and walks down the short hallway to the doorway at the end. 

This one says 'Employees Only' but she pushes it open anyways, revealing a small, empty room barely bigger than a closet. Sakura steps inside and shuts the door, not removing her gloved hand from the doorknob as she silently counts to 25 in her head.

Once she hits the last number, she turns the knob, pulls it open, and steps out into a park.

The trick had taken some getting used to, as she didn't have any real magic herself besides her accursed touch and her ability to see the dead. So, she'd had many failed attempts of counting too quickly or too slowly before she finally got the hang of it. Now she was able to come and go with ease, well-practiced after a couple years.

Sakura pulls the door closed behind her and, though she can't see it through the swirling mist contained in the space of the stone archway, she can hear it click shut. She quickly steps forward and out of the way in case there are any other arrivals, looking out over the snow-covered park fondly.

Behind her is the collection of four stacked-stone arches, each facing one of the cardinal directions and connected by short stone walls, making a perfect square. The Landing, as it's called, sits in the direct center of the small, secret park, each arch standing tall and strong and older than Sakura knows. Though the tops of the arches and the corner walls are covered with snow, she can still easily see the sigil carved into the front of each keystone, placed there by whoever had crafted the gateways.

The park, formally named Bowerfield after the flowering vines that climb a majority of the trees and those waist-height stone walls (but never the arches themselves, as they're meticulously kept away from the gates so as not to damage them or meddle with the enchantment), was a lucky find on Sakura's part.

She'd been living in the city for a few months and had no idea how to find its secret magical community - or if it even had one - until she'd happened upon a friendly soul (quite literally) who'd told her about Bowerfield. He'd been a witch while living and could tell there was something supernatural about Sakura and, after a seemingly one-sided chat in the city's library, he'd directed her to the antique shop.

And now Sakura can enter the park freely and visit the… special shops situated around the outside.

The buildings formed another perfect square, encasing the park and closing it off to the rest of the city. The few alleys between some of the buildings all ended with brick walls and the shimmering field stretched overhead kept it hidden from outside eyes. It was a more useful feature in recent years due to things like drones, but had been put in place around the same time as the Landing, from what Sakura had heard.

Bowerfield itself was located somewhere in the southern half of the city, but she wasn't quite sure where. And she wasn't about to try to figure it out. So long as she had access to the secret park, she didn't care where it was hidden.

Sakura follows one of the pebble-covered dirt paths out from the Landing and through the trees to get to one of the walls of shops, double-checking the time on her phone to make sure she wasn't too early. Several of the businesses are still closed and there are few people out and about, but she can see the lights of the storefronts and the twinkling Christmas decorations through the last section of trees, welcoming and warm.

There are a variety of shops surrounding the park. Some are specialty stores - a couple witch shops, magical tool repairs, boutiques for less-standardly shaped beings, etc. - that are able to sell their goods and conduct their services openly without the need to hide, like some places outside Bowerfield. The rest are relatively normal businesses - such as restaurants, a laundromat, the salon, a clinic, and a supermarket - but provide a safe space for people who can't easily disguise their more obviously magical features.

It was the perfect place for someone with, say, an extra set of limbs or wings to go shopping for clothes and grab lunch, all without worrying about normal humans spotting them.

Sakura's destination is a small shop on the northeast corner, strings of red and white lights decorating the face of the building and a small flock of black birds perched wherever they could. A couple of the birds - ravens, judging by the size of them - let out harsh calls as she approaches and Sakura sends the familiar birds a quick smile and a wave before she heads inside.

The ring from the bell over the door is accompanied by another bird's caw, this time from a crow that flies overhead inside the shop. It heads to the back to land on the wooden counter, hopping closer to the dark-haired woman currently securing a paper-wrapped package with sturdy string. Another raven stands just next to her, perched on one of the prongs of a driftwood branch attached to the countertop.

The woman glances up and smiles brightly as she spots Sakura, raising her hand in greeting.

"Ah, Miss Sakura! What brings you in so early?" A magpie flies down from the railing of the loft on the second floor of the shop to land on her raised hand, earning itself an amused huff from the shopkeep.

"Good morning, Mrs. Uchiha," Sakura greets, heading for the back of the store and chuckling when a blue jay drifts down from the second level and lands on her shoulder, playing with her pink hair.

The woman sighs but smiles at her, shooing both new birds away.

"I keep telling you to call me Mikoto, dear," She chastises gently, running her fingers down the crow's back. "You've been coming here long enough."

At Sakura's chuckle and nod, Mikoto's smile returns and she finishes tying off the package before securing a leather strap around it. Holding her wrist out to the perched raven, it steps over onto her arm and is then transferred to the package, its talons curling around the handle attached to the strap and soon taking to the air. Carrying the package, the raven circles the empty air of the upper level before flying out an open window high on the front of the shop, disappearing with a short call.

"Now," Mikoto says, turning to fully face Sakura. "What can I help you with?"

"Just the usual," She replies as she digs through her bag to pull out a fresh box of latex gloves and Deidara’s gift. Mikoto eyes the black gloves curiously and carefully takes them as Sakura hands everything over, a red bubble of magic appearing around the items and floating above her open hand.

"Only the normal enchantment, dear?" The witch asks, writing Sakura's name on the outside of the bubble with a finger. "I can add an anti-snagging spell to the black ones to protect the embroidery!"

Sakura smiles and nods, reaching out to let the crow curiously nip at her fingers. "That'd be nice, actually. They're a gift from a friend."

She waves off Mikoto's sly smile and rocks back on her heels as the woman laughs and heads through a door behind her. When she returns, the red bubble is gone and a second crow is perched on her shoulder, eyeing Sakura curiously.

"They'll be ready in a few hours," She transfers the crow to the driftwood perch and starts to ring her up, shooing curious beaks away from the register. "I can have Itachi deliver them if you won't be in the park around then."

"Itachi…" Sakura mutters questioningly to herself, inspecting the little stand of luck charms on the counter before she glances up at Mikoto in confirmation. "That's your eldest, right?"

The witch nods, smiling happily. 

"Yes! He's visiting for a few days, so I tricked him into working." Mikoto winks before gesturing over her shoulder. "He's probably back in the aviary finding a spot to hide away in and nap. I swear, that boy's become such a night owl!"

Sakura chuckles, vaguely able to put a face to the name, before perking up and sending her an apologetic look.

"Oh, I nearly forgot. I need a rack of phials or something similar - they work really well for propagating plant cuttings." She smiles sheepishly, hoping the witch wasn't too far in the checkout process to add anything else to her bill. "Is it too late to grab it?"

"Of course not!" Mikoto answers, laughing and waving her off. "I should have something like that up with the potion making tools in the loft, left side. Go ahead and take a look, Sakura dear."

She nods in thanks and heads for the set of stairs against the right wall of the building, quickly climbing up to the second floor. The loft itself only covered about half of the space available on the upper level, most of it reaching out from the back to stand over the check-out and a few shelves below. To the left, an arm of the loft stretches out to the front of the store, connected to the opposite wall of the stairs and just wide enough for a few displays. The main section of the loft only had a few shelves and stands, however, as most of it was clear space to give the birds access to the aviary. Against the back is a single door and several, large, open window-slots, with a few perches jutting out from the wall.

There are a couple other corvids sitting on the perches and watching Sakura as she comes up the stairs, calling in greeting and ruffling their dark feathers. She smiles and quickly steps aside as she hears a caw from behind her, letting a magpie glide past as it flies from one of the three large windows at the front of the shop right through a slot and into the aviary.

Hurrying past in case there are any other arrivals or departures, she moves towards the arm of the loft to find those phials. Typically, only Mikoto or one of her employees were allowed up onto the second level, but Sakura had been visiting for long enough that she'd become fairly good at dodging birds. She usually only visited to get her gloves, both latex and the white cotton ones she used daily, fixed up with an enchantment that protected them from her touch, but it was fun to occasionally browse the shop.

Sakura searches the shelves of bottles and tools used for standard potion making before she finds a metal rack with five glass phials, smiling in approval. As she turns to head back towards the stairs, the door to the aviary opens and a young, dark-haired man steps out. She gets a brief glance into the aviary itself, more corvids flying around the large, dome-roofed room from nest boxes to perches to feeders, but quickly refocuses on the man.

His black hair is pulled back in a low ponytail with bangs framing his face and his eyes, just as dark as his hair, look tired - especially with the dark circles. He's pale, but he doesn't have much skin showing for Sakura to be able to tell if it's just his face's complexion or not, and taller than her by at least a full head. The long sleeves of his black shirt likely keep his arms protected from talons and the collar rises halfway up his neck, neat and trim and only a few stray feathers clinging to the fabric.

He blinks at her before nodding his head in greeting, a crow following him out of the aviary before he can close the entrance. It lands on his shoulder and he reaches up to rub the base of its beak, turning to pull the door shut.

"You must be Itachi," Sakura says, holding the rack of phials carefully so that it doesn't slip against the fabric of her gloves. "It's nice to me-"

"Itachi?!" Comes Mikoto's voice from below, her sudden call making a few of the birds squawk and caw. "Finally out of the back, you lazybones?!"

Itachi sighs and moves his hand to have the crow step off onto his fingers, eyeing Sakura before heading towards the stairs with her. 

"Yes, mother," He calls back, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm here."

"About time!" Mikoto plants her fists on her hips as they come into view, regarding her son with a fond yet motherly-disapproving look. "We've been open for nearly an hour."

He simply bows his head in apology and moves to the counter to collect the other pair of crows, one on each hand and the third perched on his forearm.

Mikoto sighs but shrugs, gesturing to Sakura, who sets the rack on the counter and digs her wallet out of her bag.

"This is Miss Sakura," The witch introduces, disappointed when Itachi only nods again. "She's a long-time customer of ours."

Itachi turns to regard her again, clicking his tongue softly when two of the crows start to squabble.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sakura," He says politely, finishing her sentiment from earlier. "Can I help you find anything?"

Sakura offers a small smile in return and shakes her head, patting the glass phials gently. "No, I'm all set. Thank you though, Itachi."

He nods again and, transferring the third crow to join the pair on his other arm, heads through the door into the backroom. Mikoto sighs once more when he's gone and sends Sakura an apologetic look.

"He's always been such a quiet boy." She shrugs and turns to grab a pen from a cup next to the register, pushing it and a sticky note pad towards her. "Before I forget, go ahead and give me your address, dear. I left my book at home, apparently. I'll pass it on to Itachi and he'll send a crow from his flock to deliver your gloves when they're ready."

Sakura nods and quickly scribbles down her address, soon helping Mikoto wrap up the glass phials once everything's paid for and tucking the package into her bag.

"Take care now, Sakura dear! It's going to snow again tonight, so watch for ice tomorrow."

She smiles and waves before heading for the front door, knowing the witch's forecast was always more accurate than the weather channel's. More black birds (and the occasional blue jay) caw and take flight as she exits the shop, but she pays them little mind and heads back towards the center of the park. Bowerfield is getting busier now that the day is fully underway and, with no other errands to run in the secret park, she's ready to head back out into the city, take a short walk over to the farmers market, grab some groceries, and head home.

Going back through one of the Landing's portals is a little tricky, but Sakura’s much more confident than she was a year ago. She simply reaches a hand into the wall of swirling mist, feels around until she finds a doorknob, thinks of the antique shop, and opens the door. The familiar muffled creak lets her know she's on track and she steps through the mist, entering the small Employees Only room at the back of the shop.

With the door pushed shut once more, she waits 25 seconds exactly and pulls it open, smiling as she finds the short hallway in front of her once again.

There's a few people idly browsing the shop when she leaves the backroom behind and a couple near the display of porcelain dolls send her odd looks when they see her step out, but Sakura simply heads to the front, offers Mr. Masumi a wave in farewell (to which he replies with a short grunt but a wave in reply as well), and steps out onto the street. The air feels different outside of Bowerfield, but Sakura's sure it has to do with the thrum of magic that fills the park, making everything feel duller by comparison for the first half hour or so that she’s back in the normal city.

She walks back the way she’d come but turns when she reaches the corner of the block, heading into the more shopping-focused area of the city's downtown. It takes her about ten minutes to reach the covered pavilion next to an old brewery, already full of the stands and stalls of the farmers market and bustling with early-morning shoppers. 

As she's only only here for a few specific things, Sakura tries to stay focused and not get distracted by the different goods, heading right for a particular product stand that she usually gets veggies from. She pulls a mesh shopping tote out of her shoulder bag and leaves the stand some minutes later with carrots, squash, and potatoes, starting her search for reasonable pie-fruit.

"So, what, I just fuckin' chomp the straw and eat it whole?"

Sakura pauses as she passes by a honey stand, glancing over curiously to see a very exasperated beekeeper and a silver-haired man who seemed to be about five seconds away from taking a literal bite from a honey stick.

"No, sir," The beekeeper says tiredly, obviously trying to resist the urge to run his hands down his face. "You just bite the end to pop it open and then suck out the honey. Please don't eat the tube."

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop, but the conversation did remind her that she was low on honey at home. Might as well grab a jar.

Sakura eyes the man as she steps to the other side of the stall, inspecting a stack of wildflower honey jars but unable to stop from listening in again as he rears back slightly and curls his upper lip.

"Do I look like a hummingbird or some shit?"

She barely suppresses her snicker and the stand owner quickly turns his attention to her, relieved to have someone else to assist. The beekeeper ignores the silver-haired man's indignant huff and stops in front of Sakura, putting on a smile as he greets her.

"Can I help you find anything, Miss? Would you like a free sample?" He gestures to the stacks of jars and bottles, pretending not to hear the other man complain that he hadn't been offered any free damn samples. "The bees we keep produce really great honey  - the orange blossom is my favorite."

Sakura chuckles and picks up one of the wildflower jars, passing it over as she retrieves her wallet.

"Just this one, please."

"Excellent choice!" The beekeeper quickly starts to ring her up and the man, who still hasn't left, gives an overly-dramatic sigh.

"Fine, keep your damn sticks. Just tell me where I can find a stand that sells rocks and shit."

The owner groans tiredly but Sakura steps in, fairly familiar with the market.

"There should be one on the other side of the pavilion," She offers, finally taking a good look at the man as he turns to her. His silver hair is slicked back and shiny, just long enough to reach the bottoms of his ears, and his eyes are an odd magenta color, scrutinizing Sakura curiously.

He looks rather out of place with his studded leather jacket and ripped jeans - especially considering how cold it is today - and she's fairly confident that he's never been to the farmer's market. 

The man nods and rubs his chin, his jaw sharp and strong, as she continues, gesturing towards the north part of the market.

"They're usually near the people that sell all the house plants and succulents. So look for a lot of green and you should find it."

He looks her over one last time before grinning and raising his hand in thanks as he turns to head the way she’d directed.

"Thanks, lady." The man says, rolling his shoulders to adjust his jacket. "At least someone up here is fuckin' helpful."

Sakura sends his back a curious look as he walks away, but shrugs it off and passes cash over to the relieved beekeeper. With the jar of honey slipped into her tote, she heads off to find her fruit, trying her best to not get distracted again. She keeps an eye out for that odd man but soon gets distracted by another produce stand, grinning at the sight of fresh pomegranates.

Vaguely remembering a recipe in one of her books for a pomegranate pie, she hurries over and starts to pick some out as she tries to recall how many she'd need.

If Deidara wants a pie, he's gonna get a pie.

: :

Sakura's just in the middle of peeling potatoes when something starts tapping at her kitchen window. She glances up, stood at the sink, to see a crow on the windowsill and softly pecking the glass with its beak. It gives a muffled caw and flaps its wings when it sees her looking back at it before hopping down to her small bistro table in the backyard, a wrapped package sitting next to it.

She smiles and slips her rubber gloves off to reveal cotton ones before hurrying to the back door and out into her yard, careful to be quiet so that Deidara doesn't happen to hear her and look outside. Even carrier pigeons aren't exactly a common sight among humans nowadays, so she isn't sure how she'd explain the crow and its delivery.

Closing the door as gently as she can, Sakura steps out onto the snow-covered yard and approaches the table, smiling in greeting at the bird and reaching out to give it a soft pat before she reaches for the package. Unclasping the leather carrying strap, she unwraps the paper partially to make sure it's her gloves before nodding to the crow, humming gently. She gives it a quick scratch under its chin before starting to step away, tucking her package under her arm.

"Wait just a moment, please," Sakura says softly, the crow tilting its head to watch her curiously. "I'll grab you a treat before you head back home."

It gives an enthusiastic caw and she chuckles, hoping her neighbors hadn't heard as she quickly returns to her kitchen. She sets her wrapped gloves on the table before retrieving a shallow bowl to fill with some lukewarm water, grabbing a handful of blueberries, and heading back out. Pleased to see the crow waiting patiently on the bistro table, Sakura moves to clear some snow off before setting the water and fruit down, smiling when it hops closer and eagerly accepts the treats.

"I thought birds are supposed to fly south for the winter, yeah?"

She fully jumps in surprise, startled by the sudden sound of Deidara's voice. Looking up, she sees him leaning out of a window on his second floor and lets out a huff as his grin grows wider.

"Sorry, Sakura," He says, stifling a laugh and crossing his arms as he rests them on the windowsill. "Did I scare you, hm?"

"You just surprised me," She looks back down to the crow, picking up one of the blueberries and offering it to the bird as she ignores Deidara’s chuckle. Relieved that she'd taken the package inside already, Sakura pets its feathers and glances up again when he continues.

"Make a friend? I heard it squawking and couldn't help taking a peek, yeah." He scrutinizes the crow with a curious frown, snorting when it gives a harsh caw and flaps its wings in his direction.

Sakura calms it with another blueberry and steps back when the bird takes off, finished with its delivery and snack. Shrugging, she picks up the bowl and dumps the water out, making a mental note that she really should put a bird feeder or a birdbath out here for future deliveries from Mikoto.

"It was probably just passing through," She answers finally, crossing her arms and leaning against the table as she looks up at Deidara. "I saw it through my kitchen window and wanted to see if it'd take any treats. Maybe I can make friends with a flock of ravens like those stories on the internet."

She deliberately misidentifies the crow but he seems eager to change the subject, propping a first under his chin.

"You got home early, hm. Short work day today?"

Sakura looks away and brushes a bit of snow off her sleeve, barely feeling the chill through her gloves. "I was just out running errands."

"Awww," Comes Deidara's voice, a slight whine to his tone. "I would have come with you if I'd known!"

She doesn't bother to hide her smirk but quickly crosses her arms again when a breeze passes through the yard, trying to suppress a shiver.

"How do you feel about pomegranates?" Sakura asks, changing the subject herself. She plans on making that pie tomorrow, but it'd probably be best to make sure he actually likes the fruit. When she looks up at Deidara, his expression looks rather conflicted and he sends her a slightly disappointed smile.

"Good shit, yeah. But it's cold out; you should head back inside, Sakura," He sighs, obviously wanting to continue the conversation but very aware of how another breeze makes her shiver. "I don't want ya getting sick just 'cause I'm a big chatterbox."

Her smile turns fond and she pushes off from the edge of the bistro table, brushing any lingering snow off of her house robe before raising a hand in farewell.

"See you later, Deidara. Stay warm."

He returns the sentiment, not budging from his spot until she's back inside, and she misses how he looks in the direction the crow had flown. Deidara frowns to himself before finally pulling back and closing his window, locking it with a soft click.

: :

Monday morning, Sakura heads out dressed in her usual white button-up, silk scarf, and long skirt combo. But, this time, she's sure to tug the black, embroidered gloves onto her hands, smiling as Mikoto's enchantment holds and they don't turn to gold. House keys in hand, she steps out to see a fresh layer of snow on the ground and Deidara shoveling his stoop clean.

He looks up to greet her but, at the sight of her hands, he cuts himself off and the brightest grin she's ever seen from him bursts onto his face. Dropping the shovel, he practically vaults over the hedge separating them and stops just short of taking one of her hands in his own, still beaming but looking a little more sheepish as he steps back.

"You're wearing the gloves!" Deidara says, foregoing greeting her as he's obviously too excited. "How do they fit, yeah? Not too tight?"

Sakura smiles gently and he backtracks as she steps down and moves for the street, slipping her keys into the bag on her shoulder.

"Morning, Deidara." They immediately fall into their morning routine as she heads for the bus stop, his smile never leaving his face. "They fit just right. Thank you again."

His grin widens and he rubs the back of his head, avoiding a pile of snow that was most likely hiding a trash can.

"Great! Awesome, yeah!" He nearly slips on a patch of ice in his excitement and Sakura quickly reaches out to catch his arm, chuckling under her breath when his face turns a little pink.

"I-I'm glad!" Deidara says, trying to brush the moment off and recover. "They look good on you."

"You've got good tastes," Sakura replies, holding a hand up to appreciate the embroidery. "The stitching is excellent."

He's got an admirable pep to his step and, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, Deidara tilts his head slightly as he looks at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

"I can give you a referral if you wanna update your collection. Or get some of the older ones embroidered, hm."

Sakura hums thoughtfully, taking a sip from her thermos. "I might take you up on that, actually. The all-white look is a little plain…"

Deidara’s smile grows all the wider and he's quick to pull his phone out, typing silently for a few moments before he sends her a text with all the information. Sakura feels her phone buzz in her bag but decides to check the address later, instead turning her focus to discussing the benefits of touchscreen-compatible gloves versus the ruined aesthetics of the pad on the fingertips. They chat amicably as they walk, careful of ice and snow on the ground before, eventually, they're at the bus stop.

Sakura inconspicuously brings up pomegranates again while she waits for her ride, planning on bringing the finished pie by his place after she gets off work. She'd overestimated just how many she'd need for the recipe and had ended up with enough seeds for a second pie but, by the time the bus pulled up, she was confident that she'd only be eating one by herself.

Deidara wishes her a good day as she boards and Sakura waves at him through the window once she's seated, pulling out her cellphone. As the bus pulls away from the curb, she checks his text and looks up the shop, saving the location for future reference. Maybe she would get some of her plain gloves touched up with some nice embroidery or something.

The bus ride passes uneventfully and, by the time she arrives at the coroner’s office and gets her assignments for the day, she's pretty sure her shift will pass uneventfully.

That is, until her assistant unzips the black body bag and Sakura finds a vaguely familiar face on her examination table. 

Her hands, holding the clipboard and pen, low slightly as she frowns in confusion, trying to recall why this corpse seems so familiar. Jun sends her a curious look and she shrugs it off, beginning her external examination as she pushes her confusion to the back of her mind. She writes down a few notes as she speaks aloud, her Dictophone sitting nearby on one of the counters against the wall and recording her verbal report.

"Identity: Unknown. The victim appears to have suffered a gunshot wound to the forehead," She says, circling the table while her assistant drags the rolling tray of tools closer, waiting for her to give him the go-ahead to start removing the clothes. "Judging by the powder tattooing and seared skin around the entry wound, but the lack of a muzzle imprint, the shot was likely taken at close range, but not in contact with the victim's head."

She moves her head around for a better angle at the hole in the man's forehead, but doesn't reach out to move his hair away from the wound yet. The hole is circular and about half an inch wide, the edges of the skin blackened and burned with a wide zone of powder soot around the entry point. The reddish-brown stippling on the skin (pinpoint abrasions from unburnt powder grains leaving the gun) indicates that the man had been alive when he was shot.

"Complexion: pale. Hair: short and silver. Eyes…" Sakura reaches out and carefully lifts one of the corpse's partially-open eyelids with a gloved finger and pauses at the sight of magenta irises around the dilated pupils. She blinks, lips parted, and suddenly realizes why the man seems so familiar.

"Dr. Haruno..?"

Sakura glances up as Jun calls to her and straightens, clearing her thoughts.

"I'm alright - let's continue."

She takes a much better look at the corpse's face and inwardly confirms that this is definitely the man she'd bumped into at the farmers market two days ago. Vaguely recalling that the report had stated the body had been found outside the hospital this morning, she makes a mental note to read it more thoroughly after the examination.

Sakura always suspected that, one day, she'd end up performing an autopsy on the body of someone she kinda-sorta knew, but this is the first time that's happened. Rather unprepared, she's feeling a little… off her game. But also more intrigued than usual.

She can't help but wonder about the motive, about what had led to the silver-haired man being shot nearly point-blank. The body was in the very early stages of rigor mortis, which meant he hadn't been killed very long ago - most likely just before he'd been deposited on the hospital street. He was dressed in different clothes than she remembered, so he had at least made it home that evening.

"The victim is familiar to me," She says aloud for the recording, ignoring Jun's sudden, shocked expression. "A report will be made to the case investigator after the autopsy is completed."

Her assistant looks like he wants to say something but glances to the Dictophone, so Sakura steps over, pauses the recording, and turns to him.

"You have something to say, Jun?"

"Excuse me, Dr. Haruno," He answers, looking a little embarrassed at having stopped the examination. "Do you… know this man?"

He asks the question cautiously, unsure if she had some sort of emotional attachment to the victim and if he should go get Dr. Sato. But Sakura waves off his question and readies to start the audio recording again.

"I saw him in passing when I was grocery shopping the other day," She answers, shaking her head slightly when Jun relaxes. "I just recognized his face."

The external examination continues and Sakura keeps an eye out for any lingering shapes in the corners of the room. But she finds none, even after the initial review is completed, Jun finishes undressing and bagging the clothes, and they bring the body back from radiology and pin the X-rays up.

Sakura turns the lifeless head to take a second look at the exit wound, having already reported that there don't appear to be any other signs of injury on the man's body. She continues to speak aloud as she measures the larger hole at the back of his head, Jun pulling an empty cart closer as she begins to remove broken, misplaced skull fragments and tries to clear the wound as much as she can. She takes pictures both before and after and then has her assistant clean the wound while she grabs a few more photos of the body, providing evidence that there likely hadn't been a struggle.

Once the exit wound is clean, Sakura moves to take another picture, but pauses as she notices something at the nape of his neck. She rolls the body onto its side and angles the overhead light before grabbing a rectangular magnifying glass off the cart of tools.

"Did you find something, Dr. Haruno?"

She feels carefully at a spot at the back of his neck, just below his hairline and to the left of his spine, with her fingers, frowning as the round, red spot on his skin seems to belong to something hard puncturing his flesh. She glances to the X-rays but doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary.

"The victim appears to have something embedded in the back of his neck," She says aloud, detailing its location before grabbing one of the rulers on the rolling tray. With Jun holding the ruler in place just next to the red spot, Sakura takes a couple pictures and verbally logs the size.

"The foreign object measures a quarter-inch in diameter, is a perfect circle, though slightly jagged around the edges, and is red in color." She exchanges the ruler for tweezers and has her assistant hold the magnifying glass as she attempts to spread the skin around the spot with her fingers, giving her better access to get the tweezers around it. It takes a bit of finessing, but she soon gets a grip on the object and carefully pulls it out.

It's only about an inch and a half long, with one end (the outer end) flat and the other sharp and pointed. Sakura holds it up to the light and notes that the red color is due to the blood coating it and, after placing it in a shallow tray on the cart, moves back to the man's neck. With a little searching she finds a second spot on the opposite side of his spine, perfectly mirroring the location of the first. She repeats the process of describing the foreign object, measuring, and taking photographic evidence, before removing a nearly identical shard.

With both items placed in the tray and the ruler held next to them for reference, she takes another few photos before sending Jun to clean them.

"Is it glass, doctor?" He asks as he takes the tray. To which Sakura answers with a curious, "I don’t think so."

While he cleans off the shards, she examines the wounds left behind, takes another photo, then rolls the body onto its back once more.

Once everything is clean and Sakura can better identify the foreign objects, she realizes they're small crystals of some sort. The edges aren't perfectly smooth like quartz - instead, they jagged and ridged, but run evenly down the length of the crystals, as if someone had taken hundreds of incredibly thin sticks and fused them together. They are white but not completely opaque, allowing the blood to reflect through and make the flat ends look red from the outside.

She recalls how he'd been looking for a 'stand that sells rocks and shit' and can't help but wonder if it was connected.

Sakura takes several pictures from different angles before bagging the shards for evidence and making a note to try to identify them later when she was on her computer. Returning to the autopsy, she takes tissue samples for histology and blood for toxicology and typing before turning the examination inward.

The organs are measured and weighed, checked over for any abnormalities, and returned to the body. With no evidence of soft tissue trauma or even a single broken bone - 

(It's rather odd, she can't find any signs of old injuries, not even scars from childhood. For such a rough-looking guy like she remembered, it was strange that he seemed to have not retained evidence of a single even mildly serious injury in his life.)

 - anywhere besides the hole in his skull and the bullet path through his (otherwise normal) brain, the case is shaping up to be a fairly standard gunshot-wound-to-the-head homicide.

Besides the odd crystals she'd found stabbed into the nape of his neck, of course.

Sakura stitches the body back up, returns it to its bag with help from Jun, then approves it to be taken down to the morgue while she compiles her findings. All the while, she searches out of the corner of her eye for a lingering spirit, disappointed when she finds none.

It wasn't uncommon. Sometimes souls passed on by themselves without her aide or simply wandered off elsewhere. But, she can't help admitting that she is curious about this case and wishes she could speak one last time with the silver-haired man and find out what might have happened.

For now, however, she has other cases to attend to.

: :

It takes some searching, but Sakura eventually identifies the crystals as selenite.

She lingers on a web page describing its 'abilities' in aiding in sleep and deep peace for a moment before closing the tab and adding her find to the report. She'd already called the investigator in charge of the case to set up a time to talk about how she'd seen the man before and was now mostly through with her reports for her other cases and recordings for the day. He still hadn't been identified and no one had come forward with a missing person's report, but he'd technically only been dead for about twelve hours, so it might be a while before someone realizes he's missing.

It was hours later now, already past the end of her day, and Sakura debates opening back up that tab she'd just closed, wondering if the crystals were toxic. But, she's tired and it's been a long shift, so she'll save that idea for tomorrow and finish downloading her audio file and photos for the silver-haired man's case before locking up and heading home.

She leans back in her chair and balances a pencil on her upper lip as the files upload, alone in her office as Sato had already left for the evening. Her gaze crawls over to the corner of the room every so often, still hoping his spirit would appear, but she truly is completely alone. When her computer alerts her that the transfer is complete, she takes a moment to scroll through the photos and pauses as she realizes she'd missed something.

Though she had pictures of the silver-haired man with the trail of blood running down his face and his hair in a disarray, she'd apparently neglected to take a photo of him all cleaned up and his features much more identifiable.

Sakura curses under her breath, drops her pencil in a mug of pens, and slips the memory card back into her camera. Quickly emailing the audio recording to the transcriptionist, she closes down her computer, grabs jer coat and bag, and decides to get a picture before she goes home. Leaving her office, she heads down to the changing room next to the lab but forgoes changing into her scrubs. Instead, she simply swaps Deidara’s gloves for a latex pair, tucking the former in her skirt's pocket, and steps into a pair of sterile booties to cover her shoes.

She keeps her coat folded over her arm and her camera in hand as she heads to the pair of swinging doors that lead down to the mortuary. Once through the entrance, she follows the sloped incline path on her right down to the sub-level. It turns once, doubling back in the direction she'd come but still in a descent, and the stone walls, painted white, are far enough apart for her not to feel claustrophobic. There's enough grip on the shoe coverings for her to not slip on the linoleum and she passes a janitor swabbing down the flooring, raising a hand in greeting.

It's always quiet in the Northwest building, as the doctor offices and patient rooms are in the East wing, but it's late enough in the day that most employees have already gone home. Sakura isn't too bothered, as she's used to staying late, and she enters the morgue fairly quickly after swiping her ID card when she reaches the locked pair of doors at the end of the sloped hall, heading for the wall of steel fridges. There's only the single entrance into the chilly room, with the ramped corridor leading upstairs rather than an elevator to better transport bodies up to and down from the pathology department, and it's completely empty - besides whatever's in the coolers.

There's a tall rolling table near the entrance, the metal top covered by a long sterile sheet that someone had left out. The edges of the fabric reach down to the floor on three sides and Sakura clicks her tongue at the sight, wondering who'd neglected to put it up, but deposits her coat on top of the table anyways. She searches the wall of body drawers for the right label and eventually opens one of the doors, pulling the sturdy metal tray holding her mystery man out of the just-under 40 degrees Fahrenheit cooler. Making sure her latex gloves are secure, she pulls the sterile sheet covering the silver-haired corpse down to mid-chest and looks over his admittedly handsome face one last time before brushing his hair away from the hole in his forehead and raising her camera.

Sakura takes a couple photos before reaching out to lift an eyelid, needing to get a shot of his eyes.

She jerks back with a startled gasp, however, bumping the tray with her leg, as she finds those magenta irises surrounding constricted pupils.

Hand on her chest and her eyes wide, she stares at the body for a long moment, wondering if she'd just imagined that. Pupils are supposed to be dilated after death until rigor mortis makes the body's muscles begin to tighten once more. And the frigid temperature of the drawers was supposed to postpone those effects; he shouldn't have entered that stage yet.

Sakura keeps staring for a moment, noting that she'd disturbed his arm when she bumped the tray and it was now hanging limply over the edge. Taking a breath and inwardly telling herself that she'd been mistaken, she steps forward and moves to lift his arm back up onto the metal top, but pauses as she notices something on his palm. Holding his wrist, her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she inspects the odd symbol drawn on the palm of his hand, absolutely certain that it hadn't been there before.

She traces a gloved finger over the curves of the line but freezes when the dark brown mark begins to turn red. When it starts to glow, Sakura quickly shoves his arm back under the sheet, covers his face again, and moves to push the tray back into the fridge. Something was going on and she wanted no part in it.

She stops mid-push, however, at the sound of a loud thud out in the hallway and glances over her shoulder. It must just be the janitor but Sakura steps away from the corpse anyways, leaving the tray pulled completely out, and approaches the double doors of the morgue. 

The two doors, sturdy and coated in a sheet of sterile metal, have twin windows at the top third and she curiously peeks out into the hallway, her eyes going wide as she sees the janitor collapsed on the ground. The upper half of his body is just within view and the rest is out of sight around the corner of the turn in the hall and Sakura hurriedly moves to grab her ID card. She pauses as she pulls away from the door as her eye catches movement and she watches as the janitor's body is dragged out of sight, leaving a trail of blood on the linoleum.

Slapping a hand over her mouth as she gasps, Sakura quickly pulls away from the door and presses up against next to it, no longer within sight through the window. She takes a breath and just barely peeks over the edge, her stomach dropping as she spots two figures dressed in black rounding the corner.

Heart pounding, she ducks down, backs away, and searches for another exit, though she knows there aren't any.

But the soft groan from behind her makes her freeze and, reluctantly, Sakura slowly turns around.

The body of the silver-haired man is sitting upright on his tray, a perfect 90 degree angle and the sheet still covering his head. As his hand raises to slowly pull the cloth down, the symbol on his palm glowing bright red and an unwounded forehead coming into view, Sakura can hear the beep of the scanner outside the mortuary as an ID badge is swiped. She shoots a quick glance over her shoulder, filled with panic, and grabs her coat before diving under the tall table nearby.

She takes just a moment to right the edges of the sheet laid out over the table, the uncovered fourth side luckily being the one that's pressed against the wall, and lays as still and as quietly as she can. 

Listening to the sound of the doors opening, she can hear a quiet conversation abruptly stop as the intruders undoubtedly notice the moving - living? Reanimated? - corpse. All is quiet for a moment and Sakura is able to peek out from under the sterile curtain hiding her just enough to see shoes near the doors.

She can't stop how she jumps when there's a sudden gunshot but does manage to hold back her startled shout. 

Ears ringing and the floor cold under her, pink eyebrows furrow at the indignant, "What the fuck," that comes from the direction of the silver-haired man.

"You fucking shot me, asshole!" Comes his familiar voice again and she watches one pair of boots rush towards him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Growls a new voice, followed by a grunt.

"Same question to you, jackass!" Another grunt and Sakura can hear bare feet hit the ground and the sound of two bodies struggling to grapple each other before another gunshot. This time it's muffled and, from her left, she can see knees hit the ground hard and a puddle of blood quickly drip onto the floor.

"Quit it!" His voice again, but he sounds more annoyed than a man who'd just been shot - again - should be.

(Well, maybe the annoyance was justified. But there wasn't any panic or fear in his tone.)

"That fucking hurts, you shit-for-brains! And not even the good kind!"

"Shut your damn mouth before I blow your brains out." The second man's hiss is furious and he obviously doesn't appreciate when the silver-haired should-be corpse laughs.

"Too late!"

"What's he doing here, Sakon?" Comes a new voice, Sakura's head turning to look in the direction of the third man. "Why's he- Is he naked?"

The conversation and scuffle abruptly ends as they all, Sakura included, hear the sound of someone running down the incline hall above. They're headed down for the mortuary and a low, quick whistle from 'Sakon' has the other man moving away from the open door to crouch down next to the table she's hiding under.

She freezes and muffles her breathing in the fabric of her coat, glancing from the shadow to her left to what she can see of the exit just a few feet away from her. The footsteps slow as the new arrival approaches the doors and she can hear the click of a gun being readied next to her.

"Hidan?" Comes a cautious voice, and Sakura's heart nearly drops at the familiarity of it. "What the fuck did you d‐"

"DUCK!"

The shout was preceded by a grunt and a yelp and then immediately followed by the newcomer dropping to the ground and the sound of a gun being fired just seconds later. There's a chorus of curses, grunts, and shouts and the sound of fists hitting flesh until everything falls quiet again.

"Alright," Says intruder #2, panting and still standing just next to Sakura's hiding spot. She can see another pair of boots just in front of his own and guesses that he'd grappled the newcomer into a hold and was likely threatening him with his gun.

"Let my brother g-" He cuts himself off and Sakura looks out to her left, bare feet planted behind another pair of boots and facing the men next to her. "Wait, you don't even have a weapon!"

She moves her gaze to the unblocked, still open door, trying to determine how long it would take for her to scramble out from under the table and run for the exit. As silently as she can, she removes the plastic coverings over her shoes.

"I don't fuckin' need one when I've got this!" Silver-haired man says, probably showing off… something that warranted a growl from the intruder and his apparent brother.

"What the hell are you snakes even doing here, hm?" Comes that painfully familiar voice. Sakura bites her lip and stays silent, waiting for some sort of opening as she moves her knees under herself.

"None of your business. Now shut up before I put a bullet in your chest. I know you won't heal like loudmouth over there."

She hates that she can't see much of anything, just the white fabric walls around her, but listens intently to every sound and movement. It's all she's got to give her some idea of what's going on above her, trying to figure out where all of the men stood based on what she can see of their shoes and her knowledge of the mortuary's layout. 

There's another grunt and the sound of a gun muzzle being jammed harder against a body before she sees newcomer's boots slowly turn and plant more firmly on the ground.

Though Sakura isn't able to see the silent conversation that passes between two of the men's gazes, she's acutely aware of the low humming that suddenly starts to build near the wall of fridges.

"What the fuck is that noise-?!" 'Sakon's' question is abruptly cut off by a sudden crack and boom and Sakura glances over just as a body hits the ground and the slack face of man she doesn't recognize comes just barely into view. She sees pale blue - nearly grey - hair and green-painted lips and hears a furious shout from above her, followed by a gunshot and a second body collapsing next to the first. There's the sound of grunts and muffled punches and the splatter of blood and Sakura knows this is her chance, while everyone is either distracted or incapacitated.

As the newcomer drops down and rolls to avoid a shot from the remaining brother, she tears her latex glove off with her teeth and reaches one hand out to touch the boots still stood next to her hiding spot. 

They instantly turn to solid gold and, as he takes a step to go after the man with the horribly familiar voice, the new heavy weight of his shoes takes him by surprise and he falls forward. Sakura scrambles out from under the table, clutching her coat and camera, and races out of the room, just barely catching a glimpse of a blond-haired man's back as he crouches down behind a counter across the morgue.

Her gaze meets a shocked black eye and a face identical to the one she'd seen just moments earlier but she's already out the door and around the corner before she can really think on it. Nearly tripping on the janitor's body as she races up the hallway, Sakura stuffs her camera in her bag, still on her shoulder and crossed over her body, and curls her ungloved hand into a fist. She keeps it held close to her chest but doesn't let it touch her clothing and, once she's shoving through the swinging doors and back on the upper floor, she runs for exit to the loading bay near the storage room.

The heavy doors are propped open, a disturbing sight, but she races through them anyways and enters the delivery dock just as she hears distant gunshots from behind her.

It's only once she's a full two blocks away that she stops running, panting heavily as she leans against a brick wall and tries to catch her breath. She hadn't been followed, fortunately, and she debates calling the police, groaning as she slides down to collapse on the concrete. 

She knows she should but she can't bring herself to do it, recalling that voice she knows so well and that familiar blond hair. 

What was Deidara doing there? He'd called the other man, the silver-haired corpse, 'Hidan', which meant he knew him. It couldn't have been a coincidence that he'd just randomly showed up either. Something was going on and Sakura neither knew nor wanted to find out.

She shivers as a cold breeze passes through the street, bringing a fresh snowfall with it, and takes a deep breath to calm herself down. Her coat is still folded over her arm, but she needs to get her ungloved hand covered before she can even attempt to put it on, not wanting to ruin it and have to lug it back to her home. 

A few snowflakes drift down and land on her curled fist and she curses under her breath as they turn to gold before they can even begin to melt against her skin. The light from the street lamps catch on the golden snowflakes as she shakes them off her hand and she digs around in the pocket of her skirt for Deidara’s gloves, glancing down the dark street.

Sakura's stomach sinks when she only finds one of the black gloves.

She hesitates, digging around in her pocket again and then searching through her bag just in case, before finally standing. Luckily, the remaining glove is just the one she needs and she worriedly tugs it on, one hand covered with black and the other with latex. A look back the way she'd come confirms that she hadn't dropped it just now and she pales slightly, realizing it likely fell out of her pocket when she had left her hiding spot in the mortuary.

Running a hand nervously through her hair, she stands there on the street for a long, long moment, staring back in the direction of the hospital, before finally turning around. She pulls on her coat and crouches down to collect the golden snowflakes, her expression grim, until she's satisfied that she's found them all.

Straightening up, she sends one last glance over her shoulder before hurrying down the street to find a bus stop. She needs to get home.

#akasaku #multisaku #deisaku #sakura haruno #sakura fic #thirrinwrites #thirrinfic #midas touch #honestly its too late at night to be posting an update but i couldnt help it

[just-jordie-things]

00:02:30:17 - Richie Tozier

word count: 2871 warnings: swearing request: @oceanspray5​: Richie x Reader soulmate AU with the timers counting down to meeting their soulmate? With Reader being a sweetheart and trashmouth being himself yet absolutely smitten with her anyway because she's the best thing in his life. And maybe focus on Richie and how he's nervous to meet his soulmate because of being insecure thst he's unlovable. Feel free to take this in any direction you would like or even modify the type of prompt! Thank you! ___

[ 00:02:30:17 ]

“Two hours, thirty minutes, and seventeen seconds,” Richie announced to Beverly, eyes darting between hers and the tattooed timer on his wrist.  “That’s how long you have to teach me how to be a good boyfriend”

“Richie-”

“Fifteen seconds!” He cut her off, watching the last two digits on his arm tick downwards.  “Fourteen!”

“Are you gonna do that the whole time?” Bev sighed.

Richie had begged her to meet him at a little diner in Derry that the Losers often hung out at.  Today was the day he was supposed to meet his soulmate, and he’d gone to bed last night excited, eager to meet them, who wouldn’t?

But this morning, he woke up feeling awfully anxious, not realizing how big of a deal this really was.  He was going to meet the love of his life today, the one person that was made for him, his other half, and as wonderful as it had sounded twenty four hours ago, now, he wasn’t so sure.

What if he wasn’t what they were expecting? What if he was too cude? Swore too much? What if they didn’t like that?

Overthinking was a hallmark of Richie Tozier’s personality.  It was right up there with ‘Makes Dirty Jokes’ and ‘Literally Can’t See’.  And now he was overthinking about whether his soulmate would hate that he overthinks.

“They’re literally going to fucking hate me, I can feel it.  I just know” Richie told Bev, who furrowed her brows while she sipped on a milkshake.  So far, she had just been sitting there listening to Richie ramble on about all his unecessary nerves.

“That’s impossible.  Really, impossible” She said calmly, but her kind words fell on deaf ears, and Richie babbled on.

“What if theyre- like- really fucking popular? Huh? What if it’s the most popular- what if they’re a cheerleader? Do you really think I should date a cheerleader,  Bev? I mean I do but I shouldn’t be with one-”

“You’re not even making sense anymore,” Beverly shook her head.  “You’re worried they’re gonna be…?”

“More popular than me keep up,” Richie groaned.  “No one wants to find out their soulmate is that weird kid! And I’m that weird kid!”

His yelling was making other customers turn heads, but neither Beverly or Richie cared.  They were used to the frustrated attention of adults.

“Alright, how about you take a deep breath, and we’ll start from the beginning,” The red haired girl suggested, sitting up straighter in order to get to business.  “First of all, no matter what you say or do, they won’t hate you, Richie.  Not only is it impossible, but this person is going to fall so in love with you when you meet”

“What if-”

“No.  No ‘what ifs’. It’s the truth.  You could literally stab them when you meet and the bond between you will still be unbreakable.  Do you understand? That should trump all else.  It’s unconditional, Richie.  Do you get that now?”

He shrugged his shoulders, picking up a fry from the basket in front of him and poking at the other fries with it

“I just- I don’t know, Bev.  I feel like- I feel like I won’t be…” He trailed off, feeling vulnerable and angry about it.  Luckily, Beverly was patient, and waited quietly while he tried to find the words.  “Enough” He finished, staring down at his food.

“Oh, Rich,” Beverly smiled, and reached across the table to set her hand on top of his.  “That’s the best part.  You’re going to be more than enough.  You’ll be everything, just like they will be for you”

Richie looked down at his wrist once more,

[ 00:02:15:48]

and a slight smile tugged on his lips.  In two short hours, and fifteen short minutes, he was going to meet his everything.  Some people weren’t so lucky, some people’s timers ticked on for sixty years, but Richie had only waited for seventeen.  And he was meeting them tonight.  At approximately seven o’clock.

“I can’t believe this,” richie said through a heavy breath.  He put his elbows on the table and hung his head in his hands.  “I can’t believe this is happening.  It’s too fast”

“Too fast? You’ve only known your whole life that this was happening today,” Beverly laughed, earning a glare from the stressed out boy.  “Come on.  It’s gonna be magical.  And romantic, and beautiful, and, oh you’re going to remember this day for the rest of your life”

“If I don’t have a goddamn heart attack and die right now, yeah maybe,” Richie mumbled.  “It’s only the most important thing to ever happen to someone.  And I’m not… ready”

Beverly gave him a soft smile, knowing that everyone would feel that way in the minutes leading up to the timer hitting zero.  But she also knew that he would be just fine, and all his worries were for nothing.

“I can’t wait to meet them,” She told him, her smile growing on her face.  “And I can’t wait to get an invite to the wedding…”

“Okay okay that’s enough advice outta you,” Richie cut her off, but she could tell he was trying to suppress his laughter.  “I gotta go”

“Go? You literally have two hours” Bev said, gesturing to the timer on his wrist.

“Yeah, but I gotta get some stuff first” Richie shrugged, sliding out of the booth and putting on his jacket.

“You have to go grocery shopping?” Beverly laughed.  “You don’t want to hang out some more?”

“Not grocery shopping-”

“Are you gonna go buy a new outfit to impress your date?”

“Nope,” Richie grinned, eating one last french fry.  “I’m gonna go buy flowers”

And with that, he raced out of the diner, leaving Beverly to laugh and shake her head.  

He was a mess.  Whoever it was that he met tonight was sure going to be someone special. ___

(y/n) had been wandering around Derry all day, checking her wrist every minute to see the timer ticking down.  Hours to minutes, her eyes were glued on the tattoo.  It led to her bumping into a few people, and doorframes, but even so, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the numbers.

She was terrified.

And now, after spending the whole day walking around town, she was sitting at the overlook at the quarry.  The bench there was worn down and usually required some dusting off for anyone to feel comfortable to sit there, but the view was too nice to pass up.

The sun was setting, and she liked watching the ducks swim around in the waters below.  The relaxing setting helped calm her nerves, since she’d been over-stressing all day.

All that was left to do now, was wait.

She was enjoying watching the ducks bob their heads under the water to eat when a loud sound pulled her from the scene.

“Fuck!”

The girl leapt up, spinning around just as Richie Tozier tripped over his feet and face planted onto the grass.  She gasped, and was quick to rush over to him.

“Oh my god!” She squealed, crouching down to his level.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah- just- fuckin’ slipped”

She giggled as he pushed himself to sit up.

He finally looked up at her, and he just knew that the timer on his wrist hit zero.  He could feel it, like his heart was suddenly full and there was no chance of it ever being empty, ever again.  And just by looking at her, this stranger that he would spend the rest of his life with, he knew she felt the same way.

“Hey,” He mumbled, dusting the grass off his arms and legs.  “You… You’re-”

“Are those supposed to be for me?” She asked, smiling and pointing to the bouquet of daisies in his hand, slightly flattened on one side from catching his fall.

“Ah, fuck,” Richie groaned, trying to make the flowers look less ruined, but (y/n) just laughed again and took them from him.  “Yeah, they… were supposed to be… for you”

“That’s cute,” She mused, effectively making him blush.  “I’m (y/n)” She introduced herself, sticking her hand out towards him.

“Richie,” He replied, shaking her hand.  “This is… not what I thought” He said, and (y/n) sat down on the ground, a thoughtful look on her face as she studied his features.

He was cute, he was really cute.  She wondered if it was the fact that he was her soulmate that made him so goddamn attractive to her, but as soon as the thought crossed her mind, his wide eyes from behind his glasses met hers, and her heart melted, spreading warmth and butterflies throughout her body.

“What did you think, then?” She asked with an amused smirk.

“Honestly?” He asked, and she nodded curiously.  “I thought it’d be pouring rain, and then we’d see each other from, say, twenty feet away, and then you would run, literally, into my arms, and we would kiss all dramatic like”

(y/n) laughed at the detailed description, before looking up at the sky.

“Well, it’s clear skies, definitely no chance of pouring rain…” She trailed off, eyes nervously meeting his again.  “But, I’m still here?” She shrugged a shoulder, lips twitching in an anxious sort of smile.

“That you are...” Richie grinned, leaning forward a bit.  

(y/n’s) eyes fluttered shut as their lips met halfway, and for the first time in her life, she saw stars behind her eyes.  Soulmates were magical, they were perfection, and she’d never felt more at home than she did right now.

Richie’s lips were so soft, and she could tell already that she was going to enjoy the rest of her life with him.

When they parted, there was a warmth that could only be described as the spark between them.

“Wow,” (y/n) let out in a breath, her eyes fluttering open, finding him with the same surprised expression.  “Um…” She bit her lip, her cheeks burning pink while her heart started to beat out of her chest.

“Yeah” Richie agreed softly.

They both laughed quietly to themselves, and when Richie finally stood up, he took her hand to help her up as well.

“Well?” (y/n) hummed expectantly, and Richie furrowed his brow in confusion.  “Um, was it- uh- worth it?” She asked, showing a bit more of her shyer side than she had a few moments ago.

He just laughed, not sure how to tell her that this was even better than he could have imagined. ___

(One Year Later)

“Did you make sure to turn down the heat for the la-”

“-Last five minutes? Yes,” RIchie answered.  “You don’t trust me with cooking at all, babe, do you?”

(y/n) glared at him from where she sat on the counter.  Richie had decided he was going to make dinner for them tonight, all on his own.  She wasn’t allowed to help in any way, this was his treat to her.  However, she wasn’t all that much of a fan.  Richie didn’t have a great track record when it came to the kitchen, and this is what led to her always cooking or baking for them.  He was allowed to help her, sometimes, but she never let him cook by himself.

“Since you tried to make me a birthday cake and covered the floor with flour, melted the batter, and nearly started a fire? No, babe, I don’t trust you with cooking” She replied sassily.

“Well this is gonna be the best goddamn tortellini you’ve ever had!” He declared, and stirred the pot of boiling noodles.  “Sausage and cheese stuffed, manually, by yours truly,” He said, casting her a wink that she rolled her eyes at.  “And homemade sauce too!”

She had to smile at his efforts, he really did want to impress her.  But she was just so worried he was going to burn their food.

“Just a little longer, hon” He said, setting the spoon aside and taking the few steps over to stand in front of her.

She rests her hands on his shoulders and smiles down at him.  She’s barely any taller than him, but she enjoys having an inch or two on him for once.

Richie smirks back up at her, hands landing on her hips as she kisses his nose adorably.

He tugs her forward and helps her to her feet on the ground.

“That’s better,” He says with a small snicker.  She gives him a pout, but it goes away with a short kiss.  “Much better”

His eyes wander and land on her wrist, which was resting against his chest.  With a gentle hand he takes it, and his thumb smooths over the inked skin.  00:00:00

A smile tugs on the corner of his lips at the sight.  Sometimes he just has to check, to make sure this is real, and he’s not just daydreaming.  (y/n) knew this, and she found it incredibly sweet, every time.

They’d been together for a year now, and he was still in disbelief.

She leaned up on the tips of her toes and kissed him, for a satisfyingly longer amount of time than before.  Her fingers latched onto the collar of the flannel he was wearing, pulling him down a bit towards her so she could deepen the kiss.  And just as he was contemplating lifting her back up onto the counter, she pushed him away.

“The pasta!” She all but screeched.

Richie just laughed, and turned off the stovetop to finish up dinner.

After ten minutes of fixing up the sauce and assuring (y/n) repeatedly that’s it’s neither undercooked or burnt.  She wasn’t all too convinced, but she was too hungry to care all too much.

He made her go put on pajamas before making up her bowl of tortellini.  And when she came back, her heart melted at the sight of him setting up the sofa with blankets, a selection of her favorite movies on the cushion.

“You pick a movie, and then I’ll set it up, and you can relax and enjoy this sweet ass meal”

She giggled, and picked out a movie before settling in on the sofa.

He kissed her cheek as he settled in next to her.

At her first bite, her eyes widened, and she almost forgot to swallow.  She stared at her boyfriend in surprise, and he waited impatiently for what she had to say.

“Well?” He asked, motioning for her to say something, anything.

“Damn” She mumbled, before swallowing thickly.

“That good, huh?” He asked with a giggle.  It was a little out of character, but adorable nonetheless.  “Is it really? You like it?” He asked hopefully.

After swallowing, she grinned at him.

“Richie! I’m actually proud of you! This is amazing!”

“Great- wait, actually proud? You’ve never been proud of me before-”

“From now on, you can cook whenever you want.  But! You have to read the instructions every time!”

“Deal” He laughed, and they settled into a comfortable silence as they ate and watched the film.

After going for seconds, (y/n) was stuffed and exhausted.  She propped her feet up on the coffee table, and leaned against Richie, her head plopping onto his shoulder.

He loved when she did that.

And it didn’t take long for her to completely cuddle up against him, half asleep.  It was his favorite thing.  It was rare for her to make it through a whole movie.

(y/n) wrapped her arms around his neck, and then kissed his cheek.  When he turned his head to smile down at her, she reached up and pressed a much more passionate kiss to his lips.

He was taken by surprise, but enjoyed it nonetheless.

Even when she pulled away, his lips were still a bit pursed, and he quirked an eyebrow.

“And what was that gift for?” He asked, and was amused by the blush that dusted over her cheeks.

“Just cause,” She hummed, and gave him a sheepish shrug.  “Cause I love you” She added in a quieter voice.

It wasn’t her first time saying it, but she’d only said it a handful of times, and it still made her nervous to admit out loud.  Even knowing that Richie was her soulmate, the destined love of her life, she was still worried about such things.

Richie smiled, loving how her blush darkened when she’d said it.  He loved her so goddamn much it hurt sometimes.  And this was one of those times.  She could be so shy sometimes, even though it’s been a year now and they had forever to spend together.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in close.  He kissed the crown of her head as she nuzzled into his shirt.

“I love you too, sweets” He tells her.  He can feel her smiling against his chest.

Her hand settles against his wrist as they continue to watch the movie, tracing over the black ink rhythmically.

00:00:00

They had to be the luckiest people alive, finding each other so young, leaving them plenty of time to spend their lives together.

00:00:00. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

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