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chaoticorganizedmess · 2 years

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Can't Quit You❤

Hawks and you are joined together for another mission overseas. Old habits die hard; old love dies harder.

Hawks/Takami Keigo x F. Reader

Warning: Smut Below💋👇🏻; Slight Angst to Fluff; Implied Cheating; Exhibitionism; Barebacking; Creampie [18+]

"We were a strange love. Too wild to last, too rare to break." -Atticus

Everyone knows being in city limits hinders the ability to view the stars above in their true glory. The sky looked like a black void stretched out up above. Though it was later in the night, there were a plethora of windows lit up in the buildings all across the horizon. It gave a romantic feel standing in for the absence of the twinkling stars, however it was hard to focus on that at the moment. The rising heat of your body made the stark contrast to the cold of the window against your skin all the more evident.

Your breasts being mashed into the glass of the sliding balcony door was the least of your worries. Hawks and you had been going at it since entering the hotel suite, ripping at each other's clothes and your mouths finding purchase on each other's lips in heated kisses. The two of you almost couldn't wait for the door of the room to be opened, nearly starting your elicit session in the hallway. The sexual tension had been growing increasingly more intense as the day wore on. It always did whenever you found yourselves joined up on a mission task force in a foreign place.

Like usual, it started with flirting on the plane to whatever your current destination was. Followed by longing glances across whatever conference room was used for your initial briefing or subtle, sensual touches whenever you two were close enough. It would come to a head at the end of the night as you made your way to the room or rooms to "turn in" for the night. This time the Hero Commission sprung for a Presidential Suite that included a living area, large kitchenette with upgraded amenities, a grand bathroom with glass walls to the deluxe shower and separate hot tub, as well as two individual bedrooms. There would be no need for the two of you to use each one, just as two separate hotel rooms were never used when you teamed up on these missions. The Commission didn't need to know that, though.

It never surprised either of you that you always ended up like this. Not even when it happened that first time. Keigo and you would always be drawn to one another. You were once in a long-term relationship together. The thing was, it was the first genuine, serious relationship for each of you. You both dated people here and there but once you ended up together things fell into place right away. Unfortunately, during a stressful time for Hero society the pressure was getting to you both. It was agreed upon that you would take a break. Yep, que the voice of Ross from 'FRIENDS': "We were on a break!" The short term time apart took longer than expected and before he even knew what happened Hawks had found himself in a new relationship.

She was nice enough. Really the initial appeal of her was that she has some physical characteristics that resembled you. However, turned out she was nothing like the real thing. No one could stand in your place, but Keigo felt like he was too far in to admit that now. The two of you had remained good friends since you were before you dated. However when it comes to ex-loves it's not uncommon for a new girlfriend to draw a line in the sand for her lover not to cross. Just as she ended up doing to Hawks. So he had to watch himself around you. Despite being offended it pained you to see him after that. Not just because he should of been yours, but the light was gone from his eyes. He looked to you with such guilt and longing anymore.

When that first mission came about you both fell into your comfortable, familiar chemistry. It was easier to be himself and be close to you again while on a top secret mission overseas. By the end of that first night, after he spoke to his girlfriend on the phone and wished her goodnight, he made his way down to the hotel bar. Not many people were in there at this time of night, however he recognized one familiar figure instantly. You.

You had been sitting at the bar nursing another drink. After having a good day alongside Keigo it hurt your heart to go to bed in your room, alone. It only reminded you of what you lost. What you didn't know at that time was that your ex was having the same thoughts and feelings. "Mind if I join ya, Kid?", he commented as he slid onto the stool next to you.

Your wide eyes turned to him in your surprise of hearing his voice, but your expression softened as you looked over his face. "Sure thing.", you replied with a smile. After sharing stories and laughs together, it was a few drinks later you two called it a night. The tension began to swallow you both that first night from the bar, to the elevator, and all the way down the hall to your rooms. You both stood at your doors before glancing up at each other simultaneously. The kiss that then resulted after you two came together heatedly a moment later was felt long overdue. He pushed you into his room and the rest had been history. Now the two of you jumped onto these missions when offered, not that you always had the choice.

It was strange. Keigo felt that he normally would have more guilt burden him with this affair going on. There was something about the fact that it was you that made him feel he was entitled to it. You two belonged to each other, after all. No matter the length of time spent apart, or whoever got in between you. He only felt like he was home buried inside you.

That leaves the two of you where you are now. He is standing behind you, thrusting up into your soft, gummy walls. The grunts and groans that are leaving his throat are downright sinful and has you clenching around his length each time it's back inside you as he fucks into you with varying speeds. "Fuck, Babybird.." He's panting even more now. Your mewls are doing nothing less than spurring him on more. His strong hands are on your hips; fingers digging into your soft skin there. You're sure there'll be little bruises there.

The excitement of having him take you against the large window of the sliding balcony door for anyone to see, despite being on a top floor, sends a thrill down your spine. "K-Kei...I'm gonna-" He cuts you off as he leans to hover his lips over the shell of your ear. "Go on. Cum on my cock." There would be no arguing as you tumbled over the edge into your next climax. You know you've had at least two so far tonight. The ensuing vice grip you had on his shaft had him following right after. You feel his cock pulse inside of you as he paints your insides just the way you love him to.

He doesn't pull out of you right away. He simply wraps his arms around your waist and holds your body close to his front. Keigo buries his head in the crook of your neck as he tries to regulate his breathing. One of your hands is left pressed against the glass in front of you but the other reaches back to find purchase in his wild locks. Things were still intimate between you two but you couldn't help but think something felt different in this moment. "Kei? Keigo, you ok?"

He didn't answer right away but he shakes his head a moment later. Your name then falls from his lips in a whisper. "Be mine again." His words were soft and quiet, as if he were scared to let them out. If you weren't listening you may not have heard him at all. You'd be lying if you said that wasn't what you wanted, but how was that gonna be possible with someone back in Japan waiting for him. Your brows furrowed slightly in confusion. "Kei, you have a girlfrie-"

"I don't.", he replied simply as he cut you off. "What?" You knew what he said but it was hard for your brain to process that he really said it. You turned you head a little more to look at him. Knowing what you wanted he brought his golden eyes to meet your gaze. "I ended it. Before we left Japan." Your mouth was agape as you listened to him explain the situation. "I couldn't keep it up. She wasn't you. She could never be my Babybird." He looked to you expectantly. For once he was unsure of what you'd say or how you'd react. He had dwelt on this since the break up, and he figured he would just come out with it.

You stared back at him. Inspecting his eyes and face for any sign of pranking. There was no amusement, though. He was being sincere. Keigo felt nervousness bubble up in him the longer you stared at him. Even if you didn't get back together he at least wouldn't be going back to living a lie once he got back home. You blinked a few times before pushing your lips against his. He met you with slow, loving kisses. After a few long moments you pulled away and smiled at the soft whine he let out at the loss of your lips. "I love you, Keigo." The warm smile that spreads across his handsome face does little to mask his contentment. Adoration for you dances in his eyes as they light up like you haven't seen in a long while. His forehead rests on yours and he lets out a relieved sigh, already feeling lighter despite all the love and affection he carries for you. "I love you, too.", he breathes out, "So much."

#bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #mha smut #hawks smut #hawks #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut

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oldguardhc · 4 years

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Old Guard hc #56

Prompt number: 17 - “Give me a minute or an hour”

Fandom: The Old Guard

Rating: PG-13

Warnings/Tags: joe x nicky, fluff

AN: @flamingbluepanda encouraged me to write a Psych AU for this prompt

Joe cranes his neck to get a better look at the body. The puncture wounds are interesting, each one spaced at least four inches apart, all at differing angles, both in entrance and position meaning whatever killed this man wasn’t just a random attack. If they were closer, Joe would have thought they were bite marks and maybe they are, but the last time he checked, there were no animals in the ocean or on land with a bite-radius that large and teeth spaced that far apart. At least, there’s nothing alive today that has a 34-inch bite-radius.

“You getting something, Mr. Kaysani?” Chief Freeman asks.

Can it be? The bite marks are looking to be more of a match the longer he stares at them. “I’m…getting something,” Joe says, snatching the yellow pad and a pen from Andy and ignoring the small huff of irritation she lets out.

He starts with a brief outline, it’s been a while since he’s drawn one of these and he has to use small strokes to get the head right.

“Wait, I think this is a boating accident,” Andy says, and Joe briefly looks up to see her point at the body. “Head trauma from…from falling off the boat. Hit a motor maybe?”

The eyes are tricky. Should they be looking straight or at the viewer? Joe decides the viewer for a more startling effect.

“The wounds on his back, they were caused by a…by an industrial crab trap. Yes, a crab trap. Or a whale. A lonely whale that got lost from its pod and traveled East, West. Saw our floating guy from below, thought it was a seal and…you know, had a little chomp.”

The teeth are definitely not his best work. The teeth to mouth ratio are way off and they’re definitely not as uniform in real life like he drew them. It’ll have to do for now. He adds a little shading to the drawing, giving it a more realistic appearance.

“A whale?” Booker slowly asks, when it seems like Andy is finally done with her explanation.

“What’s your guy got?” Nicky immediately shoots back, coming to his partner’s defense.

Joe can practically hear Booker’s smug look, “Watch and learn, Genova. Watch and learn.”

“Alright Kaysani, show me what you got,” Chief Freeman says.

Joe blows on paper and holds the pad to his chest, hiding his drawing from a peaking Andy. “First of all, I would like to say that this is not my best work. It’s a very rough sketch, the shading isn’t finished, the torso is a little plump and the teeth are…they’re not completely accurate. If I had more time, I would’ve definitely given them more shape, more individual characteristics. If I had my druthers, I'd have done this in charcoal.” Booker gives him an understanding nod and Joe would high-five him if he was standing right next to him, “You know what I’m talking about! Almost nothing beats a good charcoal drawing-“

“Mr. Kaysani!” Chief Freeman interrupts, crossing her arms and tapping her feet. “The verdict?”

Joe dips his head in apology, “Yes! Look, the key was in the puncture wounds,” Joe says, using his pen to point at said wounds. “They’re very unique puncture wounds. So unique in fact, that I was able to draw a semi-accurate profile of our attacker.” Chief Freeman gives him the look that says ‘Well? Get on with it’ and Joe turns the pad around and smirks at Andy.

Both Andy and Chief Freeman do a double-take and lean forward to get a better look. He resists the urge to flinch. It’s really not his best work and it shows. After a second of intense scrutiny, Chief Freeman shakes her head with a slight scoff and stalks off.

“Chief? Where are you going?” Joe calls out, still holding his drawing up. The culprit is right here! Well, not here here but here on paper. She’s halfway up the beach already and doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge he spoke. Great.

“Nice work, Kaysani,” Andy says, snatching her pen and pad back, a pleased look on her face, and runs to catch up to the Chief.

“A dinosaur?” Booker asks, mouth downturned, fingers working the buttons in his sleeves to roll them back down to a more professional length. No, we were supposed to get fish tacos after this. “Jesus, Joe. You couldn’t have shot for something in the last million years?”

Joe places his hands on his friend’s chest and steps in his way, “Give me a minute, or an hour to prove it was a Tyrannosaurus rex.” Booker shakes his head, the disappointed look doing funny things to Joe’s stomach, pats Joe on the shoulder, and steps around him to leave.

Great, just great. Even his best friend didn’t believe him. Joe rubs his temples, he can feel a faint throb and he hopes that it’s just a regular throb and not a foreshadow for a migraine.

“I thought the drawing was pretty good.”

Joe drops his hand and turns around. Nicky has that faint smile on his lips that Joe’s still trying to figure out if it means he likes Joe or likes likes Joe. He’s already made it obvious on multiple occasions how he feels about Nicky.

With Nicky’s looking at him like that, it’s so easy to smile. “Thanks!” And because no one else is here to witness his humiliation, he makes his smile a little more flirty. “You know, I can always use a live model.”

Nicky cocks an eyebrow at him, the faint smile still there, maybe even a little wider if Joe’s not delusional. “I’m going to go calm Andy.”

“Don’t die, I’d hate to miss your pretty face.” A light blush creeps up Nicky’s neck as he nods and jogs back up the beach.

Joe doesn’t stare at Nicky’s ass. He doesn’t, because that would be rude and Nicky is more than a beautiful body.

It’s a good thing the only witness is a dead body.

Joe turns back to the dead body. “Definitely not a boating accident.”

—

Joe slumps against the growing mound of dirt. He’s exhausted. He feels like he completed an Iron Man and climbed Mount Everest twenty times. Who knew being shot at could be so draining? To make matters worse, the throb from this morning was a foreshadow. His eyeballs are going to explode any second now with how strong his head is pounding. He digs his knuckle into the valley between his eyes until it hurts, it’s a different hurt than the one going on behind his eyes though, that it feels strangely good.

Joe sighs, at least one good thing happened today; he was right about the body. It’s a real shame he doesn’t have ‘Use a 20-year-old Tyrannosaurus rex model built by a 9-year-old Booker to solve a murder case’ on his bingo card. He would’ve been the only one to mark it down.

A bottle of water is placed on his lap and Joe opens his eyes, a ‘thanks, Booker’ on his tongue. Except, it’s not Booker standing above him, it’s Nicky.

Joe musters up the best smile he can despite feeling like death has crawled its way inside him through his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your head’s been hurting all day,” Nicky says, crouching down, a small frown on his face. He pulls two packets out of his pocket and holds them out to Joe. One’s red and the other’s green. “I didn’t know if it was a regular headache or a migraine, so, I got both.”

Joe stares at the two packets. Nicky bought him medicine. Nicky saw that he was hurting and brought him something to feel better. Joe swallows the lump in his throat, reaches out for the red packet. “Thank you,” Joe says, brushing his fingers with Nicky’s.

The corners of Nicky’s lips tick upwards, “No problem.”

Joe tears the packet open and dumps both pills in his hands before tossing them into his mouth. Nicky has the bottle of water open and held out for him and Joe takes it with a grateful nod. Even though he swallows the pills on the first gulp, he finishes the whole bottle. Only when he’s done, does he remember that Booker might want some too.

“I gave him a bottle too,” Nicky says and that’s a sign, right? That has to be a sign of how amazing they would be together. “The pharmacist said those pills should work in 15 minutes.” Joe nods, he’s intimately familiar with the wonders of Excedrin. He would’ve taken one around lunch if they hadn’t been following another lead at the time.

“Thank you,” Joe repeats, closing his eyes again even though he wants nothing more than to stare into Nicky’s gorgeous blue eyes. He hears and then feels Nicky settle beside him, no doubt getting his suit all dirty, and he’s doing that for Joe.

“Is there anything else I can do?”

Joe shakes his head, “You’ve helped a lot already. We just have to wait now.” Joe resumes his earlier ministrations, digging into that spot that hurt but was a better hurt than the one inside.

Cold fingers slide over his own, “Don’t press too hard, you’ll hurt yourself,” Nicky chides.

Joe grabs Nicky’s wrist and guides those cold fingers until they’re covering his eyes. Relief instantly hits and Joe presses those cold fingers harder against his eyes.

“Should’ve gotten an ice pack,” Nicky mutters to himself.

“S’fine, your hands are working.”

They sit in silence as they wait for the pills to kick in. Every few minutes, Nicky switches hands and Joe doesn’t even have to hold his wrist anymore. He knows how hard to press and it’s nice. It’s really nice. He can almost ignore Booker digging in the background and the occasional splash of dirt that rains down on both of them.

“Never thought my poor circulation would come in handy,” Nicky jokes when the migraine finally subsides.

Joe grins and reaches out to press a kiss to both palms. “They were lovely.”

“Please tell me I’m not going to have to listen to you two flirt the entire night,” Booker calls out from the hole. “I don’t want you two ruining my discovery.”

Excuse me?

“Your discovery?” Joe asks, crawling over the mound to look down at Booker. He’s made an impressive amount of progress. Probably only six more feet before they hit the skull.

Booker stabs the shovel into the dirt, both of his hands coming up to rest on his waist. “I’m digging, so yes, my discovery.”

Joe makes an outraged sound, “I found the right hole!”

“It wasn’t a hole! I’m making it a hole!” To prove his point, Booker picks up the shovel and tosses the next scoop at Joe.

Joe should’ve seen that one coming.

“Alright, I’m going to go home. Have fun digging, boys,” Nicky says and when Joe turns around, he’s brushing dirt off himself. “I’ll see you later?”

Joe nods his head probably a little too enthusiastically, “Definitely. Thank you again for the pills. I’d still be dying if you hadn’t have come back.”

Nicky smiles, the small one, and one day Joe’s going to see if he can get him to grin ear-to-ear, lips stretched so wide his cheeks will hurt. But not today. Today, he’s going to make history by being the first Psychic Paleontologist.

Nicky dips his head again and yeah, Joe hates to see him go but he sure as hell loves to watch him leave.

That ass is definitely better than a charcoal drawing.

A new spray of dirt rains down on him and that’s it.

It’s a shame no one is there to hear Booker’s loud yelp as Joe tackles him to the floor. Oh well, it’ll live rent-free in Joe’s mind forever.

#joe x nicky #the old guard #booker #nile freeman #fictober20 #andromache the scythian #hc

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typewriterghcst · 3 years

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Title: The Willow Bud Processional

Fandom: The Cat Returns

Characters: The Cat King, Natori, brief mentions of others

Summary: The Cat King discovers that in all his time in court, Natori has never learned to dance, and heroically takes up the position of dance instructor for himself. It’s about damn time he got to feel like the smart one.

Notes: hi i’m here to regale you all with a tale of two old dumb cats interacting with each other like they think the other one will spontaneously combust at some point even tho they know each other so gd well they could probably quote each other word by word :v

i will say this one is Unfinished, but the missing parts are explained orz i’ve honestly just run out of steam on this one. me writing this was like ‘oh two characters dancing together in a casual setting? excellent my favorite’ and then the slow, sad realization that i’d have to actually write The Dancing and slowly losing that motivation until i was a dehydrated husk lying on the floor

i also listened to this song like. Way Too Much while writing this

[ insert a beginning Narration detailing that this is some nice party probably celebrating lune and yuki’s wedding or something SHHH the king is feeling weirdly down, lacks the emotional intelligence to put a word to What He’s Feeling, so wanders out onto a balcony to sulk, and is eventually followed by natori jfjfkd; ]

It doesn’t take long at all for him to be followed, of course. He hears Natori’s arrival not as a patter of careful footsteps, but as a slight, brief increase in the music volume through an opened door, one that is just as quickly diminished. And he knows his visitor must be Natori— no one else will so consistently come looking for him.

“Did you find yourself needing some fresh air, sire?”

“Yeh,” the king decides to agree, turning to look at his new companion. Natori almost always appears quite polished, those moments he’s comically caught off-guard aside, but there’s something implicitly different about him when he’s clad not in his usual dark linen, but what looks to be plum-colored silk. Were he feeling slightly more charitable, he’d most likely mention to his advisor that the color was appealing on him.

Instead, the indistinct melody he catches from indoors hogs all his attention.

“...eh? Is that the Willow Bud Procession they’re starting up again? They already did that one tonight.”

Natori, surreptitiously glancing back through the glass doors to the dancing pairs inside, responds, “Yes, but I’m led to believe a striking number of the courtiers are quite proud of their costumes tonight. I assume they all wished for another opportunity to show them off.”

“Oh, yeah? If that’s the case, I’m surprised you’re not out there with them— that shiny stuff you’re wearing had to set you back a pretty penny.” It comes out perhaps more sullen than he’d intended, and he can’t quite place why.

Regardless, he makes no move to amend his tone.

Natori turns a studying look to him, one paw still on the frame of the door. The king shares his gaze for only a few seconds before he hastily looks away, back out into the sun-drenched hills of the Cat Kingdom, where his attention falls on Little Sister Lake. There’s birds there now, cranes— tall, white. Formless. Hm, he thinks then, perhaps they’re not birds, after all. They’re occasional visitors, but no cat in the kingdom has yet been stealthy enough to see them up close.

Natori has remained silent for so long, he’d almost forgotten his advisor had joined him. Nevertheless, he eventually says, “...I might say the same for you, sire. You seemed quite enthused about your crown’s replacement earlier tonight.”

The reminder brightens the king’s mood a little.

“Yeh— Natoru did a top-notch job on it, didn’t she? I’d give her a promotion if I could remember what her position actually was. An’... you know, if I wasn’t retired.” And there, remembering what the original topic was, he follows that up with a more subdued, “Eh, but everyone’s already seen it. Also, I never liked that stuffy procession, to tell you the truth. ‘Willow Bud Processional’ is a pretty whimsical name for what amounts to shuffling rhythmically around the dance floor. Drove me up a wall having to practice it all the time as a kitten.”

Were he facing Natori, he’d see the other cat visibly relax. Alas, he only turns to face his advisor after the revelation Natori sees fit to offhandedly drop on him.

“I’ve never actually learned the steps to it, myself.”

He turns back to survey Natori with some measure of disbelief. “You don’t know how to do the Willow Bud Procession? How have you survived all the parties without knowing?”

Natori hesitates here, and the king reads a definite embarrassment in it, as if the other cat is uncertain what he should admit to. It seems he does settle on honesty, however, as he soon after offers the king a rueful smile and an apologetic tilt of his head.

“I’m afraid I don’t often do much dancing during them, ha.” Too focused on keeping you out of trouble, he doesn’t say, but they both know.

The Cat King thinks on this for a long moment or two, gaze drawn back out to the distant white birds bathing in the kingdom’s cherished lake, the Not-Cranes. In silence, casually, Natori joins him there at the balustrade, and the air is distinctly companionable until the king speaks up again, distracted.

“It’s not hard. You’d probably pick it up in no time, babe.”

“Perhaps you might teach me, then, sire? It sounds as if you’re quite the expert.”

The king pauses, trying to ignore the bloom of smug delight that comes with being referred to as an expert of anything, but, of course, not very diligently. It’s not like he’ll correct anyone who wishes to feed his ego, least of all Natori.

He looks to Natori and finds that his advisor is regarding him with an expression he can’t quite define. Concerned? Affable? Sly? It’s somehow all of them. Not for the first time, he finds himself wondering if Natori has some obtuse plan he’s orchestrating in subtle ways the king himself can’t quite catch. He’s been proven wrong in this line of thinking so many times before and yet still can’t shake its occasional return in those times when his advisor seems particularly unreachable.

“Hmm. Yeah, babe, I can do that.” The idea of teaching his ostensibly better-read advisor anything is perhaps unsurprisingly enticing. He gives the empty balcony behind them a cursory inspection. “We can have a lesson here. There’s space.”

[ insert the cat king teaching the steps to the ‘willow bud processional.’ if you’re really curious what this might look like, pls feel free to look up ‘pavane’ on youtube. at some point, the king still feels Ignored (or, more accurately, like he’s not Truly Connecting and Socializing with someone), so like a sullen two-year-old he gets natori’s attention by tossing a wrench into his plan ]

“I want to hear a story,” the king says airily.

Natori, who had been gazing down at his feet with a faraway stare, looks back up to him with a raised eyebrow, and somewhere inside, the king whoops at his tiny victory. “Now..?”

“Yeh. Now.” The Cat King takes Natori’s apparent break in concentration as an opportunity to spin the two of them across the balcony, as if they were hapless passengers on a carnival ride as opposed to two old friends trying to have an impromptu dance lesson. Natori stumbles but doesn’t fall, righting himself with a deceptively practiced air, even if his grip is noticeably tighter than before. “Tell me a story, Natty.”

Natori, feeling the situation so characteristically slip from his grasp, glances down to his feet again to gather his thoughts.

“Well…” He eventually starts. “What kind of a story, sire?”

“Hmm. I dunno.” Another too-fast spin. He’s fairly certain he’d seen both Natori’s feet leave the ground for a fleeting second. The other cat definitely looks a touch aggravated now, though he’s trying bravely to hide it. “Tell me one you might have told to your sisters once upon a time.”

It isn’t often the topic of Natori’s family arises between them. The boundary between his advisor’s working family and his personal one often feels like an insurmountable wall at times, one which he doesn’t always possess the interest or fortitude to scale. The oddness of it seems to add only more tinder to Natori’s uncertainty, but in his usual way, he manages to sidle past it. In the meantime, also, the king slows their pace, this time only holding their joined paws in the air and waiting (Natori seems to twirl under their ‘canopy’ without thinking, still too engrossed in choosing a suitable story.)

After a long couple of moments waiting, the king finally speaks up again. “There were that many?”

Natori laughs, genuinely (the king can tell by the way it —). “It’s been a long time since I was the storyteller, sire. Lune always did prefer Natoru’s stories to mine.”

“Hers always involved more explosions and punching. You were outgunned.”

The king watches Natori’s eyelids flutter slightly from long-cold exasperation. “...Indeed.”

“So tell me one of your favorites. One you never did get to tell Lune.”

Natori doesn’t say that he has the less-than-flattering suspicion the king’s attention span and his appreciation for fairy tales are about on par with his son’s as a restless, curious child, but he’s certainly thinking it quite loudly. If the Cat King has even an inkling of the same thought, he’s for once discreet enough not to mention it.

Natori blows out a breath and an uncomfortable laugh with it, and starts. “...I suppose my favorite was always the one that explained why the sun lived in the sky.”

The faint strings of the Willow Bud Processional from the open door leading onto the balcony begin to fade, and instead revive themselves as another familiar dance, a much slower, more intimate one (one Natori recognizes as the charmingly-named Lilycat Waltz). The king wonders if perhaps the bride and groom had requested a quiet moment. He and Natori move away from each other, standing across from the other in apparent uncertainty over what to do next.

“...You know how to do a waltz?” The king finally asks Natori, though he’s already guessed what the answer will be.

“You’ll have to show me, sire.” As expected. Yet with a bit of good humor mixed in. The king thinks to himself that the two of them are sharing an inside joke neither has yet spoken aloud, and it’s a familiar and comfortable nook they’ve settled into.

“Alright, babe, alright. So stand here— give me your paw—”

Natori complies with both directions with little hesitation, and he raises no protests when he’s pulled close or when he’s otherwise (perhaps less-than-gently at some points) guided into the right stance and position.

And when they’ve gotten situated into another habitual nook, this time closer together in the easy, thoughtless way only the oldest of friends can manage, the king speaks up again.

“You took right to it, babe. Said you’d be a fast study— didn’t I tell you so?”

“You did tell me so, sire,” Natori replies indulgently. Seemingly as a consolatory afterthought, he then adds, “Are my feet in the right position? It feels off.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re new to it.”

Their words, now, feel like a recital, a carefully-rehearsed script. The king thinks it’s about time they broke away from it.

“I have a question for you, Natori.”

“Oh? If it’s important, there’s no need to keep it to yourself, then, Your Majesty.”

“Why does the sun live in the sky?”

Natori laughs. Surprised, perhaps, self-effacing, because he’d been waiting for the question on both their minds, not a request for the continuation of a story he’d assumed had been forgotten.

“His Majesty has a long memory.”

“But you already knew that about me, babe.”

"So I did." Yet Natori continues where he left off readily enough. “The story goes that once, long before the world as we know it was formed, the sun and the water were close friends. Inseparable, one might say— and both lived on the earth, of course. The sun would make frequent visits to his friend, but the water never once returned the favor.”

“Hmph.” The king sounds somewhat discomfited by this beginning, and the intense contemplation Natori spies in his expression tugs at an unexplained apprehension within him. He doesn’t otherwise respond, however. Natori continues, perhaps more gingerly than before.

“Well, of course the sun would find himself curious, if… ah, perhaps suspicious, over this odd discrepancy. He finally saw fit to go to the water themselves for an explanation.”

“That was an awkward conversation.”

“Ha— I always thought so, too, as a child. When my—” Here Natori stumbles just slightly, and the king has little reason to wonder why. “--my mother used to tell the story to me, I always thought of it as the worst part. I always thought… well, if I ever did end up in the same situation, then nothing in all of the kingdom could get me to approach this friend of mine.”

“Were you expecting to make friends with the lake, or…”

“I was five, sire,” Natori deadpans in response to the king’s jest seamlessly.

“Oh, so you definitely were.”

Natori doesn’t answer— he’s too distracted by the faint increase in pressure where the king’s paw is holding his waist, and how the cat suddenly spins them around and then leans the both of them forward, to the degree that Natori’s balance is compromised. In the heat of the moment, he can’t decide whether crashing to the floor or clinging to his self-proclaimed teacher will prove to be the most embarrassing option, and in the end is relegated only to grasping his partner by the arms, stiffly holding one leg outwards in a weak attempt at a counterbalance. (He does not have the core strength to keep this up for long, he can tell that already.)

He’s been exceedingly patient before now, Natori thinks, in dealing with the king’s antics, but this finally proves too much.

When he speaks, it’s softly, but there’s an undercurrent of resigned exasperation, and his expression, he knows, must fail to belie his chagrin. “...sire, I’m not certain how being tossed across the, er, balcony like a bag of rice is going to teach me any of these dances.”

The king snorts in apparent amusement as he pulls the two of them back upright, much to Natori’s relief. “What’s the matter? You don’t trust me to hold you up..?”

You don’t have the most promising track record runs through Natori’s mind, but it’s gone so quickly it might as well have stayed obscured, he thinks in light resentment.

“Sorry, Your Majesty,” is what he says, but his grip hasn’t yet slackened.

The king doesn’t respond for a concerningly long time, staring at Natori for so long, and in such a sour manner that speaks of stewing rumination, that the other cat finds himself feeling distantly nervous. Yet, ultimately, he seems to decide against speaking entirely, gently prying Natori’s paws away and back into the air beside them (the other resting quite naturally along the king’s arm).

Without another word on the matter, he compels the two of them to start the dance all over again. And Natori lets him. After a lengthy minute of this loaded silence, the king’s gaze distant from morose thought and Natori’s eyes averted elsewhere, Claudius finally speaks up again.

“So, the sun went to bug the water about the situation. What was the water’s excuse?”

Natori appears surprised, but duly grateful, to be given this escape from the awkward energy that now smolders between them. Given time and distraction, it will die back down again, as it always does. He clears his throat.

“The water’s excuse— y-yes. The water... expressed their sincerest apologies, but explained also that the sun’s house was not big enough for them and all their people to visit, and to do so without heeding that fact would be to drive the sun from his own home. ‘If you do so truly wish for me to visit, then you must build a house large enough to hold me,’ in the water’s own words. But, they warned also, it must be quite substantial, as the water was immense and their people were many.”

“Sounds like too much work if you ask me. Might as well just keep the same old setup.” Seems the king is still feeling a touch cross.

“To travel a great distance, and to always be the one to make that trip, might prove tiring after so many times, as well, sire. Don’t you think?”

The Cat King frowns, more pensive deliberation, but this time he speaks up. “...I don’t think it would.” Then, in a lighter, more promising manner, “He’s gonna do it, though, isn’t he? The sun?”

Natori nods once with a permissive blink.

“Indeed. The sun agreed to the challenge and waved off his friend’s warnings.”

“Think I see where this is going, babe,” the king says lowly as they spin lazy circles across the balcony.

Natori laughs again. “It’s not quite a mystery epic, is it?”

“Alright, so how does the sun mess this up?”

“Well. The sun built himself an enormously vast house. There’s no telling how long it took him. But when it stood finally finished, he invited the water to tea and waited. And when the water arrived, one of their people called up to the sun— ‘We are here! Is there room for us all?’ Of course, the sun, being the passionate host he was, again told his friend not to worry and invited them in.”

The king snorts. “Here we go.”

Natori smiles. His eyes are still closed. The king thinks he looks oddly content like that. He scarcely remembers the frustrated betrayal he’d been afflicted with just moments earlier, and the abrupt, brisk spin he’d been on the verge of executing also fades before it’d even legitimately formulated.

“The water began to flow in, of course, and with them, all the creatures of the seas and the rivers and the lakes. It didn’t take long, now, for the water to fill the sun’s great house to a depth that would easily surge far over a cat’s head.”

“And the sun just let it keep happening without a word, I’m guessing.”

“He didn’t know any better,” Natori attempts to clarify, eyes opening now to fix his companion with a rueful look, one side of his muzzle quirked so that he looks vaguely hapless. “His assumptions were woefully imprecise because of it. It’s a misfortune.”

“Hmm. Up for another spin, babe? They’re my favorite part.”

Natori’s startled confusion is evident, but the sudden change in subject registers soon enough. Something else lingers, though, echoes of a rapt surprise.

“I don’t mind, sire.”

“Good, ‘cause I was gonna do it no matter what, heh.”

“Hm. I appreciate the considerate word of warning, then.” Spoken dryly, but it lacks the exasperation the Cat King had been expecting.

Natori is clearly preparing for the breakneck whirlwinds he’d endured earlier in their ‘lesson’, but it’s not what he receives— the king is sure of that this time. The music which had begun as an overtly intimate, if not downright romantic, waltz now boasts a noticeable bounce and pep in its tempo, and to himself Natori gives some silent thanks for the shift. This soft, slow dance would be quite hard to justify were he still hearing those faint notes of sweetness from the barely-open door.

He’s struggling already to justify the warmth of his companion’s paw, again settled loosely at his waist, and the perfect fit of the king’s other paw which folds mildly, tenderly, over his own— all have been present for some time now, since they began their so-called waltz, yet Natori is only just now noticing them.

Staring up at the sun-streaked sky of their kingdom, swaying idly side to side under the king’s lead, he continues then, unprompted. “...To the water’s credit, they did ask for reassurance that the situation was still acceptable time and time again. But even by the time the house was crowded with so much of the water and their people that he was forced to sit on the roof of his own home, the sun refused to withdraw his invitation.”

“Why would he do that?” The king sounds baffled.

“I don’t know,” Natori admits. Then, gently, thoughtfully, “...I suppose if one truly wants something, and has their heart set on it, they might be quite amenable to bearing more hardship for it than others might feel is strictly necessary or appropriate…”

The king doesn’t respond to that, and Natori feels perhaps rather oddly like he’s crossed too far over an invisible line, and nervously, resolutely, says no more. What had been a companionable air now lies stretched too thin over the pair, teeming with uneasiness. Eventually, the king does speak up again, and his voice is too low for Natori to discern his mood with any measure of accuracy.

“Gonna take a stab at guessing the ending to this one, babe.”

“...please do, sire.” It’s a near whisper.

“The sun never told his friend ‘no, that’s enough’, so the water never stopped, and the house flooded so much the sun had nowhere left to sit. So he went up into the sky and never came back down. And I guess never did speak up, either.”

Natori smiles, weakly. “You guessed it.”

“The water, too, never put two and two together, huh..? I’m not the most sensitive of the bunch, but I think even I’d know something was up by the time a friend of mine had to hang around in the sky because I was taking up too much space.” The king snorts.

“Do you?” Natori’s voice remains faint, timid, even; he feels still like he stands at the edge of a great crevice, and he’s not yet sure what lies at the bottom. The king seems also surprisingly fazed or rattled by the further, simple question.

Gently, so much so Natori almost doesn’t notice, he rests his chin on his companion’s shoulder.

“...well. Maybe not,” he eventually says, nonplussed.

They lapse into another silence, then, one that doesn’t quite recapture their earlier easy comfort, but neither does it feel intrinsically charged, either. Natori finally turns his gaze from the unchanging sky to their other surroundings. They’ve been out here together, away from the other guests, for some time now. He’s surprised no one else has come searching for the two of them yet.

He’s just about to echo the king’s movement and lay his head down when the other cat suddenly speaks up again.

“I’ll tell you one thing I do notice, babe.”

“Mm? What’s that?”

“When someone who obviously knows how to dance says they can’t.”

[ and here we see that i ran out of steam before writing the ending rip natori admits he already knew the steps to the dances, the cat king has long since come to the conclusion that natori lied in order to have this long dance together (also briefly joking that natori clearly just wanted a romantic moment, which natori will vehemently deny) and that it speaks to a kind of comforting Idea that natori knows him Very Well, being aware that the easiest way to cheer him up would have been to Make Him Feel Smart ]

#the cat returns #this honestly feels like it's All Over The Place but i'm so out of steam i'm sorry lies down

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femreader · 4 years

Text

We Met at a Cafe pt. 2 - Natasha Romanoff

Summary: Part two to this

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Warnings: none

A/N: lmao it’s not that great I kinda got carried away. I might make a third part.

Y/N surely didn’t make it easy for the ex-assassin. After the battle was over, with Iron Man flying with a nuke into the wormhole, multiple hospitals, and private doctors were flooded with patients and their families.

The government got multiple people asking them where were they supposed to live now that their houses and apartments were destroyed. Most of the families moved to another state or city to live with relatives or friends.

Y/N didn’t really have that opinion. She got a shelter home near the rubbles of Manhattan where she lived with another 20-year-old woman and her two little siblings. Their parents were being treated in the hospital for fatal damage, so Y/N did her best to help them and stay out of the way if they needed space.

Needless to say, she kinda forgot the redhead while trying to gather up her life from the rubble.

”You’re volunteering for the schools,” Elizabeth, your new found friend chuckled while helping her little sister, Amy get dressed. Amy’s twin brother Lee was still in the small kitchen reading a book.

”Wasn’t your degree in like, food industry or something?” She teased and Y/N just rolled her eyes playfully while tying the laves of her sneakers. Her phone was buzzing feverishly with all the messages from family and the devil herself. Cameron.

”I did some substitution before moving,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders and silenced her phone.

”Besides, I want to help.”

Elizabeth nodded and pooped Amy’s nose after tying the scarf around her neck.

”Alright Lee, c’mon we’re going to be late,” she said and the boy slammed the book shut. Y/N gave her a reassuring smile before they parted their ways. Elizabeth and the twins going to see their parents at the hospital and Y/N going to the school.

”Hi,” she tried to muster up a smile, knowing they were a very few these days. The elder man greeted her back, his bright vest said ’volunteer’.

”I came to ask about the teacher's work?” Y/N tapped her fingers together, looking around the small volunteer stand where multiple people ran and jogged around to get where they were supposed to be.

”Oh, that is great!” The man exclaimed and took out some papers. ”We’re short on them right now, having some young blood would probably motivate the kids to focus on the studies also rather than the old fossils we have,” he chuckled and Y/N agreed with him.

”When could you begin?” Y/N saw a hopeful glee in his eyes and she shrugged her shoulders.

”Now,” she proposed, taking the vest and the signed paperwork.

”Excellent!”

Y/N was stationed to teach the 3rd graders. They were much more silent than she hoped for, then again she couldn’t really blame them. The school gave her a brief summary of how many of the children had lost someone or had someone in a hospital along with the teaching material. Y/N did her best to make her classes easy and joyful. She hoped they could be like small safety bubbles where the kids could forget for at least 10 minutes what was going on.

Y/N walked out of the school building, sighing and rolling her neck. She planted herself onto the stairs and rolled her lips together. The children had been rather silent once again, it was always sad and Y/N was pretty sure she’d never get used to it.

”Miss,” one of her students walked to her around the corner and Y/N looked up from her spot.

”Yes, what is it, Matthew?” She asked, slightly amused by the hulk mask and the hulk fist gloves on his hands. His voice was slightly muffled.

”Come and see,” he pulled Y/N up and she chuckled, letting him drag her across the muddy yard.

Around the corner by the swings were all of her students all of them suddenly shrieking when they saw their substitute teacher walk in.

Y/N noticed all of them were dressed up as superheroes.

There was one iron man, his facial hair had been drawn on with a marker. Thor had a hammer from the woodwork classroom. Natalie, a blonde girl was holding Captain America's shield made of cardboard and red, white, blue clothing. Hawkeye had a self-made bow and arrows with goggles. Alongside them were the X-men with Wolverine, Professor X, Storm, Jean Grey anyone they had come up with. Y/N was rather impressed.

”You did all this by yourself?” She asked while looking at their props. Margaret, who was Cyclops nodded her head.

”Yup! And Chris’ dad helped us with Hawkeyes bow!”

Y/N looked at them all, with wide eyes. ”Well would you look at that,” she said and the children chuckled. ”These are very great.”

”We’d like to show you a play we made,” Hank McCoy exclaimed and all of the children quickly joined in. Y/N raised her hands and chuckled.

”Sure, go ahead. But don’t you need all of the Avengers to Assemble,” she asked jokingly noticing a certain redhead missing. Natalie came up to her and gave her a red wig, basically thrusting it into Y/N’s hands

”We wanted you to be the Black Widow,” she stated her big doe eyes wide. Y/N let out a snort before realizing how deadly serious the kids were.

”Oh, dear...”

”The third graders of Central Park East would like to show you a play they made,” One of the nurses declared to the patients who were sitting on the wait room chairs and laying on the few beds they had. Chatter quieted down and the nurse nodded to Y/N. She dimmed the lights just a little before Nick as Professor X rolled in in a lent wheelchair.

”Hear ye,” he yelled out. ”The Avengers are in trouble. X-Men!” He held his finger over his side of the head dramatically. Some chuckles erupted from the crowd.

The ’X-Men’ all walked in, in their own characteristic way. Lastly, of course, Wolverine with fake claws and a frowny face.

As the fake battle scene came, ’Iron man’, ’Captain America’, ’Hulk’ and ’Thor’ fought three kids who were dressed up as enemies.

”Crap! My repulsors aren’t working!” Iron Man yelled.

”We need backup!” Natalie said. Hulk roared dramatically and took the cardboard gun, smashing it easily.

”Did someone say-”

”Backup?!” Y/N came in with Lillian on her back, whose hawkeye bow was pointing at the enemies. Y/N couldn't help but chuckle at her deep voice as Barton.

”I’ll let them taste some metal.” Lillin jumped off of her back. Y/N did a small somersault before pointing her ’lasers’ at the villains.

”Look, guys!” Thor yelled, accidentally hitting Hulk while motioning towards the door. ”It’s the X-Men!”

Y/N had a zero idea of what was going on in the play after that as most of the kids just improvised the final battle. She whooped with them as the villains were defeated and clapped alongside the smiling patients when they all did a group pose. Some of the nurses even took a picture.

”Alright then,” Y/N took off her itchy wig and looked that every kid found their guardian from the crowd. ”Habe a nice weekend.”

”You too miss. Y/N!” They all said in unison before marching down the hall, still mimicking the superheroes. Y/N just shook her head and chuckled.

”So you decided to take my job then,” a familiar voice spoke and Y/N laughed while turning to face the redhead. Natasha had a smug smirk on her face as she leaned to the doorway, her hoodie’s hood deep over her flaming red hair.

”What can I say. Beating up aliens seemed fun,” Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

”It’s nice to see you.”

”You too,” Natasha said, kicking herself off of the wall. ”Fancy something to drink? Must be tiring being a superhero,” she joked while they walked down the hallway.

”You tell me,” Y/N said, leaving the wig on a random counter. ”Are you asking me out on a date?” A smile tugged her lips and she turned to Nat. The redhead cocked an eyebrow while fiddling with car keys and a black flashy car beeped from the distance.

”I thought all those other times were dates but alright then I guess,” Y/N laughed to her response while climbing in.

”Just, let’s not get hot chocolate,” she thought wistfully, to which Nat snorted teasingly before driving away from the parking lot.

#black widow imagine #black widow x reader #Black Widow #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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masterofmunson · 7 years

Text

Chase You Down (1)

Mobster!Bucky x Reader

Based off of Chase You Down by RUNAGROUND

Summary: The infamous Brooklyn mob boss, Bucky Barnes, has a tendency of sleeping around and killing people on a short fuse. So what happens when a certain girl catches his eye and turns his already shitty world upside down?

BEFORE YOU READ: this is a semi-oc fic! You can still insert your name into the fic, that’s not changing. However, ‘you’, will have some characteristics that ‘you’ might not actually have in real time. It just fits the story better if I actually describe it instead of leaving holes in the story. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing, violence

Word Count: 1.7k+

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

She sticks out like a sore thumb in my joint. Not because this is her first day on the job, but because of her mannerisms. She isn’t from around here, that fact is clear as day. Her fingers tug on the fabric of her standard red, stretch off shoulder, Josephine Fishtail dress that I acquired all the girls to wear when they performed their set. She takes a deep breath before stepping into the light. She noticeably squints and casts her eyes downward, staring at the wooden floor boards that held her up on the stage. She lifts her head up and stares around the room for a brief second.

“Hiya! I’m Chrissy and the boys ‘n I are gonna play Sing, Sing, Sing by our good friend Benny! Enjoy, folks!” she grins, stepping off to the side stage and the curtains fall open. I watch her pick up a well-waxed trumpet and she stands in front of the band and all eyes are on her. She brings her hands up and the drums begin to play.

Music fills the bar and everyone gets to their feet and onto the dance floor. I watch her intensely, completely enamored by her stage presence. She controls the band like a damn colonial. Although she doesn’t fit in when she’s not performing, she’s definitely in her element when she is.

Against the light, I can see a light layer of sweat against her temple and the dress she wore spun whenever she moved. The song ends and she bows before placing her trumpet into her case and hopping off stage towards the bar. She takes the seat next to me and orders a glass of whiskey from the bartender.

“That was one helluva show you put on, Chrissy, if that’s your real name? How long have you been playing?” I ask, completely baiting her. I know it’s not, but I ask anyway. It’s standard protocol for the girls that work for me to have stage names. Although I’m one dangerous man, I do care for people. These girls bring in big money with their performances--and then some--and I need to make sure that they are safe from the sleazy men that creep around the area, preying on women like the one to my left.

“Who’s askin’?” she replies back, turning towards me. Her bright blue eyes shine with mischief and wonder. I have no idea who this woman is, yet she has me in the palm of her hand. Who is she, and most importantly why do I feel drawn to her? I’m James Buchanan Barnes for Christ sake! I’m dangerous and threatening. I like sleeping around. Why is this girl already meddling in my life? She's only said two words to me!

“The Boss of this joint,” I answer, crossing my arms over my chest, staring at her menacingly.

“O-Oh! I’m s-so sorry!” she squeaks in shame. Her eyes widen to the size of boulders and her face pales. “I had no i-idea that you were Mr. Barnes! I-I’m sorry! I'm Y/n.”

“It's alright, Cookie. What brings you to my joint?” I ask.

“Just tryin’a make ends meet. Never thought playin’ tunes could make me money. It's expensive to live here.”

“Are you new in town?”

“Dagnabbit! Is it that obvious?” she asks, blushing furiously. She brings her hands to her face and buries her face in her hands.

“With that kind of wacky slang, it sure is,” I chuckle. “Where are you from?”

“Only the best city in the world! Chicago!”

“You crack me up, Miss. Y/n. Chicago? Really? What a shame,” I tease, winking at her.

She rolls her eyes at me and downs the rest of her whiskey, “Of course you’d say that. Chicagoans and New Yorkers are suppose to hate each other, I suppose? This town might be bigger, but it doesn’t have the food that my city does. The pies and dogs are the greatest legacies on the planet!”

She laughs and glances at the clock. Her eyes widen to the size of saucers and she stumbles off the bar stool and picks up her coat and her instrument case. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I have to go! I promised my friends I’d meet up with them after my shift was over. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Barnes!” she exclaims, scurrying out of my bar.

I flag one of my bodyguards over and I stand up, “Get me a car and follow that girl. I want to know where she’s going.” He nods obediently and disappears.

I followed her to a tiny little house that’s a couple blocks from the bar. It has a brick finish and a tiny little porch. I wait just a few houses down from where she lives and she appears outside her home with two girls, a redhead and a brunette. She changed into a loose fitting sparkly blue dress and her hair is pinned out of her face. She looks stunning and happy. They start to walk down the street in the opposite direction and my bodyguard follows them at a safe distance to Roseland Ballroom. They pay the entrance fee to get inside and disappear. I hop out of the car and nod to the body guard at the door before stepping inside.

The place reeks of sweat and smoke. The music pounds in my ears and I maneuver myself towards the bar. I flag the bartender down and he places my usual drink of choice, Budweiser, in front of me. I thank him and turn my attention towards the dance floor, scanning the scene for the woman who’s captivated my attention. I see her almost immediately. She’s still dancing with her friends, but the men around her are looking at her like she’s their next meal.

A man taps her on the shoulder and she turns around to face him. He speaks and then she answers. She turns her back towards him and returns to dancing with her friends. I can’t help but smirk. She rather dance with her friends than with a man. I watch the man grab her arm, seemingly taking no for an answer, and I hop off the bar stool I’m sitting on, ready to beat the living shit out of him, but she beats me to it.

“Buzz off, asswipe!” she snarls, hooking him straight in the jaw. He stumbles back, completely thrown off by the strength of her punch. He falls to the ground and clutches his jaw. The redhead who she came in with grabs her by the arms.

“Are you okay? Let me see your fist,” the redhead demands soothingly, reaching for her hand.

“Pattie, I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I grew up with three older brothers. It’s fine. I’m fine,” Y/n sighs, pulling her arm out of her friends grasp. She runs a hand through her hair and noticeably winces as the pain from the punch creeps up her hand.

“Do you want some ice for that?” I ask over the loud music. She turns on her heels and is caught off guard by my presence. I smirk and push a strand of hair out of my face.

“Mi--Mister Barnes! You own this place too? What a pleasant surprise!” she stutters, scratching at the back of her neck. “Please tell me you didn’t see that.”

“I won’t say anything unless you don’t let me get ice for your hand,” I negotiate with a smirk, causing her face to fall. She sighs and nods, turning to her friends.

“I’ll be right back. This fella is gonna grab me some ice for my knuckles,” she states, turning back towards me and following me into the back where the kitchen is. I open the freezer and pull out a few ice cubes and wrap them in a wash cloth. I grab her hand and place it on her knuckles. She winces for a brief second before relaxing. “Sorry about that scene back there. I have a short fuse when it comes to jerks like him. I blame the Irish in me,” she laughs, blushing at the ground.

“Ah, you’re Irish?” I ask, “Me too.”

“Yeah, my Ma came over when she was sixteen. Met my Pa a couple of years later and the rest is history.”

“What made you leave Chicago?”

“I didn’t want to just be a house-wife. I had my own dreams and ambitions and my brothers and jerk of an ex boyfriend didn’t like that too much. That and I didn’t want to run the family business when it was my turn, so I left. None of ‘em know where I am. It’s better this way. Besides, I’m happier than I’ve been in years. These past couple of months have been nothing short of wonderful. I love New York.”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry,” I apologize.

Her eyes narrow at me and she takes a deep breath, “Enough about me, what about you? Aren't you suppose to be an intimidating mob boss or something? Cos’ if you are, you're not really that scary, or intimidating, no offense, Mr. Barnes.”

I genuinely laugh at her question. She's right. I'm suppose to. I normally am, but those tendencies and mannerisms have seemingly disappeared since I've spoken to her. “None taken. You're right, I am. I dunno what's gotten into me.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course I know what's gotten into me. It's the short, blonde and blue-eyed, Chicago native standing in front of me. Lying comes way too damn easy for me. She laughs and I swear I haven't heard anything more beautiful in my entire life. Her smile radiates the dull kitchen and makes my shitty lifestyle seem somewhat bearable.

“Well, Mr. Barnes, whatever’s gotten ‘into you,’ I quite like, so don't stop on my account,” she winks flirtatiously at me, causing my cheeks to flush. “Thanks for the ice. I'll see you at work tomorrow, Mr. Barnes.”

She hops off the counter and tosses the rag into one of the sinks. Her heels click against the tile and I call out to her, causing her to turn around. “You can call me Bucky. All my friends do.”

“Are you saying we're friends, Mr. Barnes?” she asks, raising a brow at me. I know she's teasing me, but I don't care.

“After what just happened, I sure hope so. I'm not nice to just anyone.”

“Well, Bucky, I'm glad I'm not just anyone,” she smirks. “See ya ‘round!”

A/N: AHHHHHH!!!! I couldn’t wait to post this till after QOTW was completed, so now I’m working on these two stories lol! If you want to be tagged, let me know!

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @jessevans @gingerbatchwife @ria132love @aenna-4 @bubblyaschampagne

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