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amor1st03 · 2 years

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Cashing in a Favour | James Potter

James Potter x fem!Reader

best friends to lovers!!

in which: your best friend, James, asks you to help him get the girl but things are complicated when there's feelings involved

"James, no, it's a stupid idea."

"Y/N, please, I need you to help me."

"James no-"

"You owe me, remember. I helped you get a date with Jordan Turner last year."

"Yeah, because that turned out so great."

"How was I supposed to know he was an arse? I was only trying to help. But before you actually went out with him I distinctly remember you giving me a big hug and saying you owe me one, Well, I'm cashing in my favor."

"I don't understand why you can't just ask Lily out."

"Because she'll say no. She hasn't seen me in that light yet. She hasn't seen me as someone who could be a sweet and caring boyfriend."

"So just show her you can be sweet, James."

"This is me trying to do that."

"Do the boys know about your plan?"

"Of course they do."

"And what do they think about it?"

"Sirius and Pete think it's a great idea and Remus thought it was stupid but Remus is just being Remus. Will you do this, for me? Y/N, please." Her best friend continued to beg. She looked at him for a moment.

"Fine, I'll do it. But if it doesn't work, it isn't my fault."

"You're the best!"

"So, how are we doing this."

"Well tomorrow morning we'll walk into the hall, holding hands and we'll just act all lovey and coupley."

"Okay," She said, a little uncertain.

"We won't have to do it for long, I'm sure, a month or two tops. And don't worry, just follow my lead."

"Alright fine, but if it gets past two months I'm fake breaking up with you in front of everyone."

"That's fine, in two months' time Lily Evans will be mine." She smiled at her best friend's excitement but at the same time, she felt a strange feeling in her stomach. She wasn't really sure what it was or why she felt it so she did her best to ignore it.

The next morning James met her by the entrance of the Great Hall with a bright smile on his face.

"Good morning, beautiful, you ready to do this." He held out his hand to her.

"As ready as I'll ever be." She took it and he led the way into the Hall. She felt as if she was on stage, under a spotlight, as heads turned to stare at the two of them. The two had been best friends since the start of Hogwarts. Fourth year was when people started to speculate that maybe more was going on between the two of them but they didn't care what others thought. They were best friends. Now two years later here they were, parading around, pretending the rumours circling the two of them had finally become a reality.

"Good morning, boys," James said as the two of them sat down at their table with their friends.

"And how is the new couple this morning?" Sirius asked with a smirk.

"Oh we're great, just so in love and shit," James replied with a small laugh. Y/N smiled shaking her head a little. She turned her head to look down the table. She saw Lily eyeing the two of them. The five friends ate their breakfast while keeping their heads together and quietly discussing James and Y/N's ruse.

"Hey, I'm gonna head off early to return some books to the library before class."

"I'll come with you," James said, smiling at the girl as they both stood from their seats. Y/N reached down for her bag but before she could pick it up James grabbed it and his own, pulling them both over his shoulder.

"I got it, gorgeous."

"Such a gentleman." She laughed a little before kissing his cheek and taking his hand. Their three friends watched as the two of them left the hall, hand in hand.

"I know I've said it's a stupid idea at first but I've been thinking," Remus spoke up once they had disappeared out of the doors. "Maybe this might finally be the thing that helps them figure out they're in love with each other."

"It's about time. They're the only ones who can't see it." Sirius agreed.

***

After about a month and a half of fake dating, Y/N knew she couldn't do it much longer. After Hogsmeade dates and cheek kisses the plan was definitely working. Lily spent most of her days staring at James. But she wasn't the only one. One day, about three weeks into their fake relationship the two of them were studying together in the library. James was looking down at his book, brows creased slightly in concentration. When he looked up at Y/N with a soft smile on his lips she could have sworn that time stopped. The light pouring in from the window illuminated his face perfectly. His eyes had small specks that looked almost golden, they reminded her of leaves falling from trees during autumn. And that smile, Merlin, she would've sold her soul if it meant that he would keep smiling at her like that. That's when she finally realised.

She was in love with her best friend. She always had been. It had always been him.

She also realised then what an idiot she was, agreeing to fake date the guy she just realised she was in love with to help him get some other girl. But she couldn't break it off, not yet, not until the plan had been complete and Lily liked James back. Because her heart being broken into a million pieces was worth it if it meant that his was whole and complete.

Now here she was at one of Slughorn's parties. James had gone to fetch them both a drink while she was standing on the outskirts of the dance floor with Remus. Remus watched her as she watched James at the food and drink table.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm good. I'm having a nice time, this party is great."

"Y/N, you know what I mean."

"Oh." She thought back to a couple of days prior to the party, she had been sitting with Remus in the common room together when he casually mentioned the fact that he knew she was in love with James.

"What?" She had said, sounding alarmed.

"Come on, Y/N, you're one of my best friends, I see the way you look at him." Feeling defeated, she didn't say a word. "So you finally figured it out, huh?" He asked.

"Remus, I'm such an idiot." He gave her a sympathetic look before pulling her into a hug.

"I think he feels the same, you know, we all do. The way he looks at you when you're not looking. James is just too oblivious to see how he really feels about you." He had told her.

"I don't think so, Rem."

"You'll see, Y/N, that boy is in love with you, I'm sure of it."

Y/N tried to pull her mind away from the memory, drawing her eyes away from James and back to the tall boy who stood beside her.

"I don't know, honestly."

"It's gonna be alright, it'll work it for the best. And hey when you and James fake break up and he still hasn't realised how he feels about you, you and I can always fake date." She gave him a soft smile which he returned.

"Here you are," James said, handing her a drink once he had returned. Once the two of them had finished their drinks they both decided to dance. James placed his hands on her waist pulling her close as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. They swayed softly to the music.

"I think it's working, James. I don't think we'll have to keep this up for much longer."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," She replied softly. The two of them continued to sway to the music. Over James' shoulder, she saw Lily watching the two of them.

"She's watching us, James." Y/N pulled back a little to look at his face. "I'm gonna kiss you, alright?" The two of them had never properly kissed before, forehead and cheek kisses were common in their fake relationship but a real kiss had never happened. James nodded and slowly she began to inch her face closer to his. It was selfish really. Her excuse for asking to kiss him was that it was for Lily to see but really she knew she wanted to kiss him just once while she had the chance. When his lips met hers, she thought she might die. Because this was it. Nothing could ever amount to this feeling again in her life. She kissed him as if her life depended on it because in that moment it felt like it just might. Her hand trailed down his shoulder and found his. His hand was warm in her grasp. She pulled away and they rested their foreheads together, eyes still closed. After a moment Y/N finally lifted her head away from his, opening her eyes and smiling softly. She moved away from him, pulling her hand away from his. He didn't move he just watched her as she left him standing in the middle of the dance floor.

***

A week later, it was over. They agreed to tell everyone that they had decided they were better just being friends. Once the Christmas holidays were over and everyone was back at school James asked Lily out on a date to the Three Broomsticks to which she agreed.

"How do I look?"James had asked Y/N.

"Yeah, James you look really good." She answered, trying her best not to sound disheartened.

"Alright, guys, wish me luck!" He said before leaving to meet Lily.

After a couple of weeks of dates, the two made it official.

"That's really great, James," Remus said after the boy had bounded into the common room to tell everyone the news.

"I'm happy for you James, but I've got to get to the library, gotta finish up some homework."

"Oh okay, talk to you later?"

"Yeah," Y/N replied, trying with all her strength to keep herself together.

"I'll come too, I wanted to go check out another book anyway." Remus stood up with her and the two of them left the room. Once they had stepped outside she let herself crumble into Remus' arms, tears striking her face.

"I'm sorry, Y/N." After that, the two of them went outside to sit under a tree by the Great Lake. Remus had his back propped against a tree while Y/N rested her head on his legs. He brought his hand up to stroke her hair comfortingly.

James and Lily were walking together when they spotted the two of them. James was feeling puzzled over a kiss he had shared with Lily. How silly to get worked up over a kiss, it was their first one it was meant to be awkward and would probably be better the next time. But he couldn't shake the thought of the kiss he had shared with Y/N. When he kissed Lily, it wasn't like that. The only thing that pulled him out of his thoughts was Lily speaking up.

"Are they dating?" She asked.

"Who?"

"Remus and Y/N," She replied, pointing over to where the two of them were.

"No, of course not." But when he saw them softly smiling at each other he saw how she could have assumed that. "They would have told me," He said, sounding rather dejectedly. He felt a bubbling feeling in his stomach that made him nauseous. It was just because he had a fear the two of them keeping a secret from him, he thought. What else could it be?

He scrunched up his fist slightly, which Lily noticed.

"Who knows, anyway shall we carry on walking or head back to the castle?"

"I think we should head back, I don't feel too well, I think I'm gonna just head to bed." She nodded and the two headed back inside.

He laid in bed, thinking over and over again about Y/N smiling up at Remus while he softly stroked her hair. He tossed and turned until the bedroom door opened and Remus walked himself.

"Are you and Y/N dating?" He couldn't stop himself from asking, sitting up straight in his bed to face Remus.

"What's it to you? You're with Lily."

"It's nothing just you two seem to be pretty close and I wouldn't want you two to keep lying to me."

"Nothing, huh? Yeah, really sounds like it doesn't mean anything to you, James. Maybe she is my girlfriend, what are you gonna do about it?"

"I said it doesn't matter to me I just don't like being lied to."

"Again, still not your concern considering your with Evans."

"But-"

"How do you feel about Lily?"

"Well, she's really nice and-"

"No, I didn't ask what she's like, I asked you how you felt."

"Well, I..."

"You're an idiot, you know that. Maybe instead of clinging on to some crush you had when you were eleven you should wake up and realise that maybe, just maybe, you're in love with somebody else." James was speechless, he didn't know what to say so instead he just silently laid back down. That night he was up most of the night, thinking over Remus' words. Even when he eventually found sleep, the words plagued his dreams.

***

Three months of dating Lily and all they could do was argue over the smallest things. All this work and now all they did was bicker.

Lily was growing tired of all the arguing. Most mornings when they sat together at breakfast it ended with one of them storming off early to class.

One morning, the night after yet another argument over something silly that she couldn't really remember she was making her way over to where James sat with his four friends. Y/N sat next to him talking to Sirius about something when Lily couldn't help but notice the way James was looking at her.

There was a soft smile across his lips and his eyes seemed to glisten as he watched her contently. He looked at Y/N the way she wanted him to look at her. She was slowly becoming aware of James' feelings towards the other girl and now she was certain. She was hurt but she knew that she didn't really love him. It was too hard trying to fall in love with him when his love was never fully hers, to begin with. His love was reserved for someone else already. Knowing what she had to do, she made her way over to the table. Y/N's smile faltered when she saw Lily approaching and Lily noticed it and tried not to feel so disheartened by it. She had also noticed Y/N's stolen glances toward James and knew her feelings towards him must be the reason for this reaction.

"James, can we talk?" He followed her out of the Hall.

"What's up?"

"We need to break up."

"What?" As she suspected he didn't sound as upset as he should have been about his girlfriend breaking up with him. "Is this because of our argument last night? Honestly, I can't even remember what it was about."

"No, it's because neither of us loves each other. And you can't deny it. I see the way you look at Y/N. Merlin, it's so obvious you're still in love with her."

"Still?"

"Yes, from when you were dating?"

"Lily, I need to tell you the truth. I was never with her. It was all fake to make you see me in that way."

"Seriously? That's kind of a stupid thing to do."

"I know but it worked out."

"Are you sure? Look neither of us are happy. We shouldn't keep lying. You claim it was fake but I think there are real feelings there. You love her, James."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. I know it must be scary for you after so many years of friendship with her but it's true, you know it is." James stayed silent, thinking about Lily's words.

"You're right, I'm such an idiot. I tried my hardest to push my feelings down. I think I really realised when we saw her with Remus that day, by the lake. I was just too scared to admit it."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Lily."

"Don't be, I'm just glad you've finally figured it out, took you long enough. So, friends?"

"Friends." He agreed. "Thank you." They smiled at each other before James turned back to head into the Great Hall.

"Hey, for the record, I think she feels the same way."

"You do?"

"Yeah, I really do, you should tell her." James smiled before walking back into the Hall. Tonight, he thought, I'll tell her tonight.

The day seemed to drag on as James panicked over what to say to her. He tried hard to focus on his work but it was easier said than done. When he finally settled onto the sofa in the common room that night he let out a nervous sigh. She was up in her room getting changed out of her uniform. He sat with the three boys as he decided to tell them about what he was going to do.

"I'm in love with Y/N," He blurted out.

"He finally admits it!" Sirius cheered.

"It's about time," Peter added.

"What about Lily?" Remus asked.

"We talked and she told me it was obvious. We broke up and she told me to tell her, so, I'm going to."

"Tell who what?" A voice came from behind the boys. James jumped up from his seat and spun around to face the girl.

"It's nothing. But, uh, hey, do you wanna go for a walk?"

"Oh, um, yeah sure."

"Alright, cool."

The two of them left the common room and headed towards the Lake. As they walked, James spoke up.

"It was right here."

"What?" She asked.

"I was right here when things finally made sense to me."

"What are you talking about, James?"

"Look, I really need to tell you something but I'm so scared because it could ruin everything."

"Woah, what's going on?"

"Lily and I broke up."

"Oh my god, are you alright?" She brought her hand up and lightly brushed his arm, he felt goosebumps appear along his skin in wake of where her fingertips had been.

"I know it must seem weird because I'm not upset but Lily and I talked and we both realised that we weren't in love, in fact, I was in love with someone else." She remained silent, looking him straight in the eye. "I've been such an idiot, Y/N and with Lily, everything always felt weird. Even on our first date but I didn't want to admit it because I had a crush on her since we were eleven. But I've never loved her, I've only loved one person." He took a deep breath before continuing. "Look our relationship a couple of months back was fake but that kiss at Slughorn's party, that was real for me. And every time I kissed Lily I was comparing it to the one we shared and it was never the same. It didn't feel the same. What I'm trying to say is I love you." She stared at him for a moment, eyes beginning to tear up.

"James Potter," She said, voice full of admiration. "What idiots we've been." She smiled brightly, tears falling down her cheeks now. James mirrored her smile and cupped her face, wiping away her tears. "I've loved you for years, James. Merlin, I love you so much it hurts but I never told you because I thought you wanted to be with Lily."

"Lily was a crush I had when I was a kid that I was clinging onto out of fear. But the only person I want is you. It's you, Y/N. It always has been." She smiled again, cheeks hurting from how wide she was smiling. They both looked into each other's eyes. "I'm gonna kiss you, alright?" James said, repeating her words from Slughorn's party. She laughed slightly before nodding. He leaned in, thumb stroking her cheek delicately. Their lips met and it was like magic. Nothing I could cast from my wand was as powerful as this kiss, she thought. It was like the first kiss they had shared but more. This time it was not a desperate, one-time kiss. This kiss was full of love and promises for the future. One that soothed all the hurt and heartbreak she had experienced over the last couple of months. As he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her in closer she couldn't help but think about how glad she was that James had cashed in that favour because now she found herself in his arms, exactly where she was meant to be.

#james potter #marauders #james potter x reader #harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction

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wordsfromthesol · 3 years

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The Interview: The Sequel

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @togasbetch @malfoys-demigod @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Requested: @the-house-of-auditore-frye Word Count: 1,378

Part One

The reality of the situation slowly began to set in. Everything seemed to hit you at once, just as you slung your leg over his motorcycle. Your entire body went stiff as you sat in silence for the entire ride. You didn't even question where you were going. The haze cleared from your eyes just as Dick pulled into the familiar building. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed where you were.

Dick could tell the kidnapping jolted you more than you wanted to admit. He didn't bother going to your apartment, and you didn't say a word as he led you inside his. Almost an hour had gone by, the two of you sat on the couch watching some mindless tv show. Dick was beginning to worry.

"Y/N, are you sure you're okay? They didn't hurt you?" His eyes desperately searched yours.

"I just…I don't want to be alone tonight." You mumbled as you buried your head into his shoulder.

Dick acknowledged your request by pulling you further into his arms. It was there you fell asleep.

This nonsense had been going on for three months. Every time you met up with Dick, there seemed to be swarms of paparazzi. Why did they even care about some Gotham playboy? Wasn't there a better celebrity to stalk? You let out a frustrated sigh as you saw someone photographing you walking into your office building. As if on cue, your phone began to ring.

"Dick, what a surprise…"

"Uh…did I do something?" Dick was clearly not expecting to hear the agitation in your voice so early in the morning.

"Yeah, an interview." You couldn't hold back the sarcasm.

"Right, about that. Bruce is having a charity gala this weekend. Can you make it?"

A smirk spread across your face, "One condition. You gotta tell your family about this little ruse."

"What? Why?" Dick seemed almost disheartened at your request.

"I may have made a bet. With Tim. And this situation is going to make it seem like I've lost. When I totally have not." You tried not to get into the specifics of the bet. It didn’t matter.

"You made a bet that you wouldn't date me?!" Dick figured it out anyways. Guess it shouldn't come as a surprise.

"Do we have a deal or not?" This was not a conversation you wanted to have right now.

"Fine…" Dick huffed out, clearly annoyed.

Everything appeared to be going smoothly, you were making your rounds and talking to everyone of importance. Yet something was gnawing at you. All these girls, they just threw themselves at Dick. You were pretty sure you even saw one of them trip another just so they would get there first. Watching the show, you lost track of just exactly how many glasses of wine you had drunk.

"Shit" you mumbled to yourself. Stumbling over to a table, you sat in the corner brooding over the whole ordeal. Thankfully, Tim soon joined you.

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could you blurted out, "I didn't lose! Dick told you, right?!"

Tim burst into a fit of laughter, "Don't worry, he told me. But may I remind you, there's still 6 months left before that 3-year mark." He looked you up and down before turning his gaze towards his older brother, "I'm not worried."

Your mouth hung open. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh nothing…" Tim hummed to himself. Before he could tease you further Dick walked up and enveloped your hand with his.

"Let's get out of here." His eyes were locked onto yours, not even acknowledging Tim's presence. All you could do was nod. As you rose from your seat, Dick wrapped his arm around you.

"Thanks," you whispered in his ear as he led the two of you to safety.

Only two months left, you thought as you walked into the office. You didn't understand why, but you knew this fake dating thing needed to end. After all, how were you actually supposed to date someone? Dick had to understand, right? It’s not like he actually wanted to date you after all.

However, all your thoughts of ending this fake relationship were gone by the end of the day. The office drama was absolutely abhorrent and to top it off you were reprimanded for not meeting a project deadline. Needless to say, it had been a long day and you needed your best friend. So once the clock struck 5, you headed out towards Dick's apartment. A huge grin was plastered across his face as he swung the door open to greet you.

"You aren't allowed to be this happy if I'm in a shitty mood." You retorted as you pushed past him and sat on the couch. "Wine please," you pleaded with a huff.

"Aw, and why are you so grumpy my little sunshine?" Dick questioned as he sauntered into the kitchen to oblige your request. Dick listened patiently as you ranted about your day until it was time for him to go on patrol. "Alright, I'm headed out. Don't leave too late and don't forget to lock the doors."

"Okay dad…" The sarcasm dripped from your words as you rolled your eyes.

Dick’s eyes narrowed as he turned back towards you, "Don't act like I didn't see you leave here at 3 am last week." You simply stuck your tongue out in response.

It was just past 4 when Dick crawled in through the window. Beaten and battered, his face lit up when he saw you asleep on the couch. He carefully scooped you up and placed you in the bed before he hopped in the shower.

You awoke to the sound of the water turning off. Shit. I fell asleep. Quietly, you pulled the covers back and slung your legs over the side of the bed.

"Don't you fucking dare." The stern words had come from the bathroom. "It's 4:30 in the morning. You can sleep here, I'll take the couch."

You knew protesting would get you nowhere and frankly you were too tired to go home. "Fine. But don't be ridiculous, there's plenty of room." You curled up in the comfort of the blankets. "Besides," a yawn interrupted the thought, "you're exhausted and probably bruised."

"Tim, I don't think I can keep doing this…" Dick thought about you fast asleep in the next room.

"I told you it was a stupid idea to begin with." Tim scoffed at his brother's easily avoidable dilemma.

"It just slipped out, what was I supposed to do?!"

"How many alternatives you want?"

"Okay well I couldn't think of any at the time." Dick unsuccessfully tried to validate the decision once again.

"That's because you want it to be true. I saw how you looked at her at the gala last month."

"You just want to win your bet." Even Dick knew that wasn't true, but he continued grasping at straws.

"If that's what you think. Either way, you can't keep this up forever you need to tell --" Dick quickly hung up the phone as he saw you standing in the doorway.

"Was that Tim?" You tried to remember the bits of the conversation you had just overheard.

"Uh…yeah. Just talking about…a case."

"You know, given your alter ego, I feel like you should be better at lying. First the interview, now this."

"Wha--lying?" Dick was clamming up. It was as if you had some imaginary hold on him.

"Dick?" You raised your eyebrows and waited for the truth to grace his lips.

"Fine. I can't. I can't do this anymore. This fake shit." Dick ran his hand through his hair as he collapsed on the couch. "I don't want it to be fake." The sentence knocked the wind from your lungs. You never thought that was an option.

"How long?" Those were the only words you could get your mouth to form.

"Since the day I met you." Dick tried to bury his head in his hands, but you forced his gaze to meet yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of deception. It felt like time had stopped. Finally, the world sped up again as your lips crashed into his.

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userholland · 3 years

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all for her [3]

pairing: dad!bartender!tom x female!reader

warnings: cursing, lots of angst

summary: a single-dad bartender, a supportive best friend and their continuous, unrequited love noticed by his optimistic daughter. is it possible to break a heart they never knew they had?

word count: 8.7k!

a/n: another month has passed but! finally here’s part 3!!! sorry for the delay but i was caught in between this rut & midterms so it took a while for any big ideas to spark. but i’m so happy that so many of y’all have enjoyed this story. i want to say again that this is my favorite fic series i’ve ever written so thank you so so much for appreciating it! i may end with 5 parts, but i won’t leave y’all hanging!

— masterlist ☆彡

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

A week had passed since the gruesome bar fight and Tom was still left with a dark bruise surrounding his right eye along with another on the side of his chin and the start of his jaw. Luckily, there were no broken bones or dislocated limbs, but it was made known that he had a concussion after you forced him to go to the emergency room and get properly looked at by a doctor. As stubborn as he was, Tom tried listening to the careful instructions given for the follow-up appointments that would come, but everything went in one ear and out the other.

“We want to make sure each part of the brain that was impacted is still intact, so we want you to see this specialist and they’ll run a few cognitive tests to make sure everything is okay.” The doctor explained in simple terms as he scribbled the information on his prescription pad and ripped it off.

You nodded, taking the paper from him, “How much is all this?”

“It’s not too costly, but insurance should cover most of it.” He reassured, glancing at you before looking back at Tom’s chart, “I recommend a lot of rest and time away from work for at least two to three days.”

Tom quickly looked over, “I can’t take off work right now. I really can’t afford to do that right now.”

“Mr. Holland, we want to make sure that there’s no way you could injure yourself even more than now. You need to take a few rest days in order to relax and stay away from anything strenuous.”

“I’m a bartender, I think I can-”

“Tom... relax, please.” You retorted at him, your jaw slightly clenched.

Tom stared out the window with his side against the wall, feeling like he was miles away even though he was just across the room. You peered over at him a few times throughout the appointment, but you knew he didn’t want to be here. One of the strings of his black hoodie curled around his pointer finger, pulling on the coil before letting it spring back, repeating it a few times as the doctor continued informing to you.

He’d been fixated on the results of the DNA test. It was rooted in his mind from how many times he read over it, convincing himself it wasn’t true and it was a huge mistake. Doubt consumed his thoughts, wondering how he could have been so stupid to fall for the entire ruse even though Tom never regretted one moment of raising Summer. He loved her so much and would do anything to have her back, but finding out the truth made it harder for him to figure out if he should still be fighting for her.

Throughout the nights, he tossed and turned enough to wake you up, feeling his pull on the sheets. Sometimes you’d hold him from behind, curling your arms and locking them to make him feel safe. You pressed your cheek against his back, the eerily sound of his heartbeat against your ear as it quickly thudded. His thumb brushed over the top of your hand, remembering that you were still there, but when he closed his eyes, every thought crawled its way back in and cluttered his mind enough to make him want to burst into an angry fit.

After a few minutes, the doctor left you two to gather your things. Tom ran his hand over his hair as he started to walk to the door, but you blocked him from taking another step. With your arms crossed in front of your chest and your eyebrows furrowed, Tom knew that look was never good.

“Talk to me… C’mon, what’s going on? What’s on your mind?” You softly asked, still looking into his eyes.

Tom ran his hands down his face, a light groan leaving his lips from the frustration slowly building inside his entire body.

“I don’t want to talk about it now, Y/N. Please. I’m fucking embarrassed enough.” He huffed.

“Then when are you gonna talk about it?” You retorted, your eyebrows furrowed from concern, “You can’t keep the weight of the world on your shoulders forever.”

He shrugged, “I’m not Summer’s dad. That’s it! It was all fucking nothing. It doesn’t matter-”

“It’s always mattered, Tom!” You whisper-shouted, not wanting to make a scene with everyone passing by even though the door was closed, “What Maggie did to you was fucked up, but you raised that girl to be who she is now and that’s what matters.”

Tom gulped, his tired eyes beginning to water as he kept eye contact with you. His bottom lip quivered, but he quickly wiped his tears with his hoodie sleeve. The dryness in his throat hurt and even closing his bruised eye was painful to do, making him curse under his breath every time. He clenched his jaw tight as he rubbed the back of his neck, but you placed your hands on each side of his delicate face.

It was hard to see him in this state where nothing mattered to him and there was a greyness that clouded over the great and wonderful person he truly was. It wasn’t the Tom you grew up with, not even close, so to see this side of him for the first time astonished you, and you weren’t sure what else it would take to see his old self other than getting Summer back.

He ran his hand over his soft curls, “Can we just go home?”

“Yeah, but remember we have a call with a lawyer tomorrow morning. He thinks you could get a good settlement deal since the guy who beat you up had prior arrests.” You reminded him, pecking his cheek then rubbing your thumb over the bruised skin under his eye.

Tom nodded, “You know we can’t afford this guy.”

“We’ll make it work.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist with his around your neck.

He licked his lips, “Y/N, I’m not gonna make you pay for it.”

“Who said you were making me? I know you want her back as much as I do.” You sniffled, gently holding his face so he could look into your sincere eyes and saw the way they gleamed.

Neither of you wanted to surrender and it never crossed your minds to give up on Summer, but it was getting harder when you felt like Tom was a ticking time bomb and it could only take Maggie’s choice of words to pick at the one nerve no one else could reach to make him completely snap.

Your noses brushed together with your foreheads lightly pressed, both of you reminding yourselves that you had one another. Tom placed his hand on your cheek before leaning in, feeling how soft and light your lips were against his and tasting your minty chapstick. As your eyes tightly closed, you shared a slow kiss with your arms still loosely wrapped around his neck. It was a blissful kiss, one you hadn’t shared in a while, but it was comforting in moments like this where you were terrified of what was to come.

When Tom pulled away, he planted a faint kiss on the center of your forehead, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much more.” You mumbled as you looked into his beautiful, russet eyes, “C’mon. Let’s go home and put some ice on that eye again, maybe take a nap after.” You hinted.

He half-smiled, “That sounds nice.”

You quickly furrowed your eyebrows, pouted your bottom lip, “Hmm, and maybe take a shower, you look like hell.” You joked, raking your fingers through the front of his messy curls to the crown of his head.

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked, “You know you used to be nicer to me, like when we were kids.”

“Well that’s before I fell for you, I can’t get too soft… plus, I think it balances your ego.” You smiled, pressing your lips against his while the two of you giggled within another kiss.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Later that afternoon, you and Tom were napping on the couch with the TV on low volume. The birds chirped by the window and traffic was below the terrace, the sudden honks echoing between the buildings. You were laying between Tom’s legs, the fluffy blanket over your whole body. With your arms loose around Tom’s torso, you slumbered with your head comfortably against his chest. Tom wanted to go some sleep, blinking his dry eyes every few seconds to keep himself awake, trying to distract himself with his phone.

Light snores left your lips, your face hiding in his neck as you unconsciously curled up more. Tom stretched his neck a bit, making sure you were okay before running his hand over your hair. If he could lose Summer, Tom worried that you could slip away just as easily. He never realized how protective he was, hoping it wouldn’t push you away from his own faults and insecurities; he didn’t want to be left alone.

Tom kissed the top of your hair, nuzzling his face against the top of your head. Throughout this, you were his rock, an anchor to hold him down when things got to be too much and he couldn’t believe how supportive you were with how confused he was. You held him when he cried and you listened to him when he needed to vent. It was things you’d done before, but you both felt emotionally closer like another wall had fallen and there was nothing you couldn’t tell each other.

He slowly raked his fingers through the crown of your head to the end of your back, over and over as you peacefully napped before his phone vibrated against the coffee table. You stirred in your sleep, turning your head away and loosely wrapping your arm under Tom’s neck. As his vision cleared from his sleepy daze, Tom furrowed his eyebrows at the contact name.

“Hey, baby, I have to take this,” Tom said in a low tone, not wanting to completely wake you up.

You nodded, your eyes still closed, but Tom slowly got on his feet. After he placed the blanket over you, Tom went out to his bedroom so you could have some quiet.

“Hey, dad.” He answered.

“Hey, Tommy.”

His father always had the same monotone voice, like a poker face that he had to figure out since he was born.

“What’s going on? Is Sheryl okay?” Tom replied, sitting down on the bed.

Ever since his dad got remarried a few years ago, Tom and his father’s relationship slowly parted over time. With work, school, and a kid, Tom didn’t have time to take the backhanded compliments and concerned parenting skills that his new stepmom persistently gave to him on any family occasion. They used to have dinners together every Saturday night when Tom could get away from the city and school, but each one got worse. The last straw was around this time last year, it was Thanksgiving dinner and the blowout was something Tom tried to forget every other week. He couldn’t even bring it all up to you which was hard to keep since it’s been biting at his nerves for the last year.

As Summer got older, Tom didn’t want her to think she was “some kind of mistake” as Sheryl would put it. So for the sake of her, he told himself that his family wasn’t going to cost his daughter’s happiness and he never returned a call back until now. She asked about her grandparents around birthdays or holidays throughout the year, but it was getting harder for Tom to avoid the question when she wouldn’t give up sometimes.

Even though Tom’s mom was usually out of the country, she made sure to send presents, pictures and call every other weekend to make sure he and Summer were okay, but Tom would never admit to her if something was wrong. His mom was never there, not for him growing up and rarely now, but he knew she was trying to make up for it holiday after holiday.

“Uh, she’s well. We’re fine. I just wanted to call you and ask what’s going on… How’s Summer?” His dad genuinely asked.

Tom chuckled, “Why do you ask?”

His father hesitated for a second with his answer, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. Your mom called me and said that she hadn’t heard from you either. So, we’re just worried about you…”

“Yeah… yeah.” Tom raised his eyebrows as he rolled his eyes.

He heard his father sigh, “I know things weren’t the best the last time I saw you-”

“Some woman I barely know tells me that I can’t raise my daughter? That she was a mistake? No, dad. I should be visiting even more after that.” Tom retorted, grinning to mask how the anger was building up inside him slowly but surely.

“She’s your stepmom.”

“Not to me.”

Tom’s dad didn’t fight back his bitter attitude, “Tom, I just want to talk to you. It’s just you and me.”

“Dad, I’m really… not in the mood.”

“Let’s get lunch… or dinner, maybe? Just the two of us.” His dad suggested, almost pleading.

There was silence between the conversation as Tom thought for a few seconds. As damaged as his bond was with his dad, he didn’t want to push him away. It would be what Maggie was doing to him, and to feel the separation from a child hurt like hell.

Tom sniffled, “Fine, yeah. Sure.”

“Great. Well, what about dinner tonight? Where do you want to meet?”

“Um, we can meet at the bar I work at… before my shift starts. Six o’clock.” Tom trailed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Tom quickly hung up before he could burst into tears. In the back of his mind, he thought there was an ultimatum behind the real reason he wanted to talk, not thinking it was just some catching up. But, the stress of the past month had made Tom into a walking mess. Maybe this would bring back some old times, like when he was a kid in a baseball cap and his dad brought him to baseball games and carnivals when his mom was on business trips.

“Fucking Christ,” Tom said under his breath, running his hands through his hair. He blinked away the tears at the waterlines of his tired eyes, wiping them with his t-shirt before getting up.

It was still hard to pass Summer’s room and see it still untouched and empty. Tom kept it neat and clean, hoping it motivated his hope to have her back home. Sometimes he’d sit on her bed and think about the little life the three of you had together. She probably missed her stuffed animals she had tea parties with or the t-shirts she couldn’t fit in her bag. Maggie refused to let him over anymore, not after the last time they saw each other and how frustrated he got. It was hard to think that Tom was holding out for nothing, and Summer could never be in his life again.

He leaned against the doorframe, staring at the bunny sitting on her bed. It was the bunny you and Tom spent hours looking for sometimes, one day realizing that Summer started to do it on purpose. She would hide it in the last place you could think of and it became a race of who could find Mr. Fluffycakes first. She finally admitted one day that she thought it was a game that you and Tom liked to play, so she would try to find the perfect place to almost camouflage the soft, grey bunny.

Tom held it in his hands, bring it up to his face, and smelling the familiar, lavender-vanilla detergent. He sighed, glaring at the small paintings taped with scotch tape to her wall by the dollhouse in the corner of her room. It was Summer’s favorite Christmas present she had ever gotten, Tom’s mom hoping she’d like it after getting it from London. She traveled a lot, always sending things in the mail to Summer, but rarely making appearances with how much she did work. Tom hoped that would change from when he was a kid, but now he understood how his parents ended up separating.

“You okay, babe?” You grinned, leaning on the doorframe and glaring at Tom sat on Summer’s book nook.

“Yeah, just miss her.” He half-smiled, biting his bottom lip after and tossing her bunny on the bed.

You walked over, sitting next to Tom and wrapping your arm around his shoulder before kissing his temple trailing to the apple of his cheek then lightly pressing your nose against his cheek.

“I bet she misses you a lot too.” You replied. “Have you heard from Maggie? Any chance of… seeing her? Maybe a short visit.” You asked, pulling your head away to turn to him.

He nodded, “We haven’t talked. I don’t want Summer to see me like this anyways.” Tom said low, lightly touching his bruised eye.

“C’mon, you look noble and tough. She’ll think you’re more of a hero than you already are.” You joked, trying to get a smile out of him.

“Hmm, I wish I felt like that.” Tom sighed.

Trying to figure out the gears working in Tom’s head was always a mystery. You watched his brown eyes shift back and forth as he was leaned over, his elbows against the top of his knees. Another long sigh passed his lips and you could tell something else was really bothering him, not needing him to say it.

“What’s wrong, baby? C’mon, you have that furrow in your brow.” You tilted your head.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his pride fighting his urge to just open his mouth, but he had a soft spot for you like no one else could. The instant Tom looked into your eyes, he felt the comfort he knew he needed.

“My dad called me, just now.”

“Oh… Is that good or bad?” You asked.

He cracked his knuckles, shrugging, “Both, kind of...”

You didn’t know much about Tom and his dad’s relationship other than Tom hating his stepmom, in light terms than he used. But, he wanted Summer to keep in contact with them for as long as he could. So many years had passed since you last saw his dad, so it didn’t feel right to butt in when you knew the bare minimum, but last Thanksgiving was unforgivable in Tom’s book so you stood by his side on what he felt.

“We’re gonna meet for dinner tonight… at the bar. I want to take a shift tonight.” Tom added.

You sighed, “Tom, you can’t work. We have to go to the doctor soon.”

“Just tonight. I promise. I… I need to do something with myself.” He groaned as he ran his fingers through his hair, rubbing the top of his head before looking back into your eyes.

“Okay… I understand. But, just tonight.” You agreed and rubbed his arm, pressing your cheek against his shoulder.

Tom sat up, straightening his back and you pulled your face away from his shoulder to look him in the eye. Your faces were close together, a few inches away before he asked, “Can you come with me? ‘Cause, I don’t think I can do it alone.” He admitted then bit the inside of his cheek.

You tried to hide your smile, happy that he was opening up a bit at a time.

“Of course, babe. I’ll go with you for however long you need me.” You said as you trailed your hand to his, intertwining your fingers together and giving him a quick squeeze. Tom’s smile slowly painted on his tired face, bringing the top of your hand to his lips.

“Thank you. Really, thank you. You don’t know how grateful I am for you.”

“Well, I have all day.” You jeered and it made him smile again, wrapping his arms around you to scatter kisses on your cheek and neck.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The bar wasn’t busy during the late afternoon, before the fleet of college students and single women came through for the nightlife. But it was a relaxed spot when the sun was still out. A few husky men sat at the bar, eating chips and drinking pints to watch the various games on the flat screens or truckers stopping by for a nice meal and taking a smoke outside. It wasn’t the most formal place to meet up, but Tom had work in two hours so it was more convenient than worrisome to impress his dad.

You and Tom sat at a table for four, sitting next to one another and your arm linked around his. He was dressed in his work attire which was a dark-blue button-down paired with a white t-shirt with his name tag on the right side of his chest, solid black jeans that were a bit baggy on him, and his raggedy converse with the laces looped around the ankle once. He kept checking his watch every few minutes while he tapped his right foot against the floor and it began to make you a bit antsy.

“Baby, you need to relax.” You reminded him, lightly pressing your hand down on his thigh.

“I am. I’m just mentally preparing for what he’s gonna say to me.” He sighed as he sat up in his chair.

“Like what?”

“Oh, you really want me to go through the entire list?” Tom sarcastically joked, a half-smile on his lips.

You humored him with a giggle, but nodded your head, “You’re overthinking it. It’ll be okay and I’m right here next to you.”

Tom leaned in, giving you a light kiss that made your stomach fill with butterflies. You never knew how tender he could be when he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who enjoyed PDA. But, he became putty when he was around you by this point that it was hard not to want to kiss you when you comforted him.

He quickly looked down at his watch again, “He’s almost an hour late. He probably bailed.”

“Don’t say that. He’s gonna come, maybe, he’s just in weekend traffic.” You tried to keep his head up.

Tom rubbed the back of his neck, but he couldn’t help but slowly feeling the creeping feeling of abandonment on his shoulders. He wanted to give his dad a chance, he really did, but this was reminding him of how he was never the most reliable. It twisted Tom’s trust issues in every person he met and having to be forced to sit there, wondering and waiting, was eating Tom alive.

Another half-hour passed and Tom decided to clock in early. He didn’t feel like having to sit there for another hour, only to be asked and told exactly what he expected to hear. You told him that you’d sit at the end of the bar, staying with him until he specifically asked you to go home, but really you wanted to hang around to make sure Tom didn’t get into another bar fight that ended up with him having more than a concussion.

Some college students fled in and asked for a round of beers while others waited for their favorite cocktails. There was enough staff tonight that Tom didn’t feel overwhelmed like last few times, sometimes having to clock in on days he didn’t work because someone called in sick. The new guys were nice, most of them young and needing something to do during graduate school or trying to make rent.

As Tom wiped down the bar when a group of girls left, his manager, Teddy, called his name from behind. He quickly looked over his shoulder and tossed the rag in the bucket underneath the bar, walking over to Teddy who never failed to not have a clipboard in his hands. He never took off his wedding ring at work like some of the other servers and bartenders and even so, he gushed about his wife, Anna, when he could. Even though he sounded like a broken record some days, Tom admired how Teddy flaunted his stable, almost 20-year relationship.

“Glad to see you back, Tommy!” Teddy grinned at him, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah. I feel better, I just have to go to a few doctor’s appointments, if that’s okay with you.” Tom asked in the moment, crossing his arms.

“Of course! Of course. For how long you’ve been working here, I don’t think you’ve ever taken a sick day or called in last minute.”

“It’s just been two years, Teddy. You make me sound old.” Tom joked, cracking a smile.

“Yeah, but I still appreciate you. You’re a valuable asset.”

Tom didn’t want to take the compliment, but he still nodded and grinned.

“Hey, have you heard anything from that guy’s lawyers? Are they giving you any compensation?” Teddy curiously asked as he wrote with his signature, blue pen on the paper of the clipboard.

“My girlfriend and I found a lawyer, but I don’t know if he’s good enough to make sure I get the money I’m supposed to get. We’re working it out.” Tom reassured him as he glared at his feet.

Teddy smiled at Tom, big and sincere, “Well, as long as you have that support, you’ll be prepared for anything that comes your way. I’m sure your daughter will too.”

Tom nodded, “Yeah… She’s a great kid.”

He still hadn’t told anyone at work what had happened with Summer, seeing it was no one’s business other than everyone knowing he got hired because he was a single dad trying to provide for his daughter, at least who he thought was his daughter.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.” Teddy acknowledged before walking to the kitchen through the doors.

Tom bit his bottom lip before sealing his lips, looking out at the crowd coming in. Out of habit, he checked his watch again, but quickly turned away to not keep holding out with his dad to come. When Tom’s gaze landed on you, his eyes softened a bit at the natural glow you had. You were talking to a girl who you knew in college, both of you still sat at the end of the bar and you smiled and laughed with her.

As he walked over to where you were, your eyes went to him and your friend looked over her shoulder.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.” She grinned, flashing Tom a friendly smile before she walked back over to her table of friends.

Tom’s eyes followed her then turned his focus to you, leaning on the bar, “Who was that?”

“She was in a few of my classes in college. Good friend. She thought that I had a pretty cute boyfriend too. Apparently, his black eye makes him look very brawny.” You teased, bringing your class of water to your lips as you watched him chuckle.

“Is he here tonight? I’d love to meet him finally.” Tom joked back.

The brightness was back in his brown eyes, a glimmer of hazel under the warm light. You hadn’t seen that gleam in a long time and it was a good sign and as much as you couldn’t know what was going through his mind, you just wanted more moments like this. Both of you away from the apartment where you weren’t secluded to walls that had too many memories built within them.

You leaned on the bar, your nose brushing against Tom’s before you shared a sweet, short kiss. You giggled against your lips as he did too, but you pulled back when you heard someone say his name from behind.

Tom’s dad stood there, his hair was a salt-and-pepper shade and a few lines along his face. The shoulders of his cargo jacket were wet from the downpour outside, a few raindrops dripping down his forehead and nose.

“Hey, Dad…” Tom sighed.

You turned to Tom, “Go, it’ll be okay, baby.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his.

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” Tom said before giving you another kiss then walked around the bar to meet with his dad in the middle of the floor.

“Do you wanna sit?” His dad asked him, gesturing his hand to the table next to them.

“Yeah, I just have a few minutes,” Tom said, pulling out the chair.

His dad furrowed his eyebrows, “What happened to your face? Did you get into a fight?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of. It’s not important.” Tom deflected as he lightly touched his eye, not thinking his bruise was that noticeable in the dim lighting of the table.

“I think it’s important.” His dad chuckled, leaning on the table to get a closer look, “C’mon, who was it?”

Tom nodded his head, “That’s not why you’re here to talk, Dad.” He said lowly, crossing his arms.

“Well, I wanted to catch up. How are you? How’s Summer?” His dad tried to carry the conversation in a more positive manner, hoping he could connect with Tom without it becoming an argument.

“Um, Summer’s fine. She’s in kindergarten this year.” Tom replied.

“Wow! Kindergarten already? It’s like yesterday you were that age. You would always wear that damn baseball hat everyday… your mom would throw a fit and she tried to hide it from you all the time, but you managed to always find it. Ah, she just loved when your hair grew out.” His dad chuckled, leaning back in his chair and he glanced over at you.

“Yeah… She’s getting older.”

“You have a picture?” His dad quickly asked.

Tom pulled out his phone, scrolling through his gallery until he found a picture from a few weeks ago at her birthday party. It was when Summer was blowing out her candles, her knees pressed into the chair cushion and her one hand pushing her up on the table while the casted one was by her side as she tried to reach the top of the cake.

“She broke her arm? Geez, what’s going on in your lives?” His dad smiled at the picture before Tom took his phone back.

“Her and Y/N went ice skating and she fell and… it was a whole thing, but she’s okay now.”

His dad grinned, “Is that Y/N over there?” He nodded his head in your direction.

Tom looked over his shoulder at you, still sat at the bar and you were talking with one of the bartenders. You crossed your leg over the other as you carried the conversation with a glowing smile painted on your lips, gesturing with your one hand while the other cupped your drink. The red and yellow lights strobed against your face, highlighting it past all the people passing by to get drinks or dance on the other side of the room. You felt Tom’s eyes glued to you, making you stare back at him and give him a playful wink.

“Yeah. We’re... dating now.” Tom admitted, glancing down at the table and drawing slow circles with his index finger on the polished wood.

Tom’s dad smiled, “Yeah well, you always had a crush on her. Glad to know you guys are still close. She was always a nice kid and… from what you told me, she was good with Summer.”

Every time Summer’s name was brought up, it struck Tom’s nerve and it made his face heat up. The more he talked about her, the more upset he got about what was going on complied with the other things going on in his life. Tom clenched his jaw, not able to reply and his dad could see he was upset. Even though Tom was growing older and he was his own man, his father could always tell when something was wrong. As much as Tom didn’t think anyone could figure him out, his dad could read him like the back of his hand.

“Is something else going on? Other than me just showing up?” His dad tilted his head to try to look at Tom.

As Tom’s pride fought his ego, he didn’t want to feel like he was suddenly giving into his father now that he was sitting in front of him. The idea of talking to his dad made him upset and brought back cruel memories, but now that he was venting and talking about things he thought he would be angry about, this seemed like a better time than any other to explain what was really going on.

Tom picked at his nail, trying to find the first words to say to how he felt without it feeling like a corny, emotional sitcom moment.

His face heated up, “I… I sort of found out that I’m… not Summer’s biological father.” Tom pinned his lips, tears developing by the corners of his eyes saying it out loud.

Tom’s father was shocked, not showing it on his face, but he gulped, “Are you sure?”

“A hundred percent. I took a DNA test at the doctor’s and… it sort of just… Well, I trust it enough to take it one time. The girl who’s her mom took her away, probably just for the child support, but I can’t figure out what to do… It’s been a month without her and I can’t sleep anymore, Dad. I raised her and I never doubted she was my daughter until now.” Tom choked up, a dryness in his throat making it hard to take a deep breath. He ran his hand over the top of his hair, weaving his fingers through the fluffy brown curls and pushing it away from his forehead.

His dad took a few seconds to contain his thoughts, wanting to truly think before he spoke and knew how much Summer meant to Tom.

“And on top of that, this asshole threw a punch at me at the bar last week and that’s how I got this.” Tom gestured to his eye, “And now I’m trying to get a settlement, but I don’t think I can afford the lawyer, and… everything is falling apart.” Tom trailed, finally looking right into his dad’s eyes who’s were similar to his.

Tom lowered his head, trying to hold his tears back at the sudden release of everything on his mind.

“I know you raised that little girl so well and I’ve always admired you for that.” His dad started.

Tom ran his hands down his face, sniffling as the whites of his eyes turned a light red. He couldn’t look at him as his father started to talk, worrying it was going to be a backhanded compliment and it was the wrong decision to do this.

“But, it’s gonna be hard to get her back if she’s not yours… but, if you find out more about how the mother feels about Summer and the whole situation, I can get in contact with a good lawyer or steer you in the direction of one.” His dad offered, but Tom nodded his head in response.

“Dad, I can’t do that.”

“I’m your father and I’m not gonna leave you hanging like this… I know you love Summer and you raised her. I’m not gonna let you drown yourself in a settlement on top of that, okay?”

“I’m not a kid anymore. I can take care of this-”

“You’re not, I know that! You’re a grown adult who’s just needing some help and that’s fine.” His dad emphasized, understanding how hard-headed his own son could be.

Tom nodded, “I want it to be a loan. I can pay you back for however long it takes.”

“No, no. Let me help you out… as your dad. I’m not a bank, I’m not… anyone else. I’m your father and I know that if you were taken away from like Summer was to you, I’d want everything to be as smooth as possible.” His dad explained, trying to show how much he truly cared about his son despite the cold, bitter tension between them for the past year and a half.

The two of them sat there with the noise of the people’s conversations around to fill the silence, but Tom came to his decision and he nodded, “Okay. It’s a deal.”

They didn’t even shake hands, let alone hug, but the thankfulness was implied. Tom’s dad grinned at his son, the one who was just a little kid he wishes he truly gave the world to instead of sitting here thinking he had a lot to make up for.

“Other than all of that, have things been good otherwise?” His dad asked, glancing up at him.

Tom chuckled, “Just this and not much else. It’s been pretty boring without Summer around. But, Y/N has made it better.”

“Is she a keeper?” His dad grinned.

“She’s more than that. She’s really great and I could… see her in my life forever.”

His dad smiled, “I remember when she broke her arm and you just went on and on about dropping her homework at her house. I had to… call the school and get the parent contact information and then you were all jittery and nervous in the car. Even gelled your hair that day.” He recalled, smiling at the memory.

Tom blushed, “I wasn’t that nervous.”

“She really is a sweet girl. I’m happy for you.” His dad appreciated him, nice to see a smile finally on his face.

“Thanks, Dad.” Tom’s smile curled up, patches on red painting his cheeks at the thought of you even if you were sitting a few feet away.

“Well, it looks busy here so, maybe we can reschedule for an actual dinner. One that I don’t have to tip you for.” His dad jokes as they both stand up from their seats.

“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Definitely.” Tom nodded, running his sweaty palms down the front of his pants.

“It was really nice to see you. Don’t be a stranger.” His dad stood in front of him, staring at the mature and put-together man his son had become in the blink of an eye. It was a bittersweet feeling that maybe their time apart was leading up to this moment.

“I won’t.” Tom grinned, leaning in and wrapping his one arm around his dad.

His dad linked his arm around him as well, his hand meeting Tom’s back and giving it a few rubs before they pulled apart.

“I’ll keep in touch with you about the lawyer.”

“Thanks again.” Tom nodded.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching them go their own ways and his dad gave a quick wave to you. When your eyes shifted to Tom, he had a glow on his face, wanting to hide his smile by sealing his lips. You couldn’t help but grin, swiveling the barstool around to face him and you reached out for his hand.

“How did it go?” You simply asked, placing your hand on top of your knee.

Tom nodded, “It was fine, we can talk about it more when I get home.”

“No, tell me now.” You giggled, not wanting to put a damper on his news.

He half-smiled, “Just know that everything is going in the right direction. My dad said he’d help me a little bit with the settlement stuff and that way I can focus on Summer and what we’re gonna do.”

You ran your thumb over the top of his hand, “I’m really proud of you, you know that?”

“It was nothing-”

“It was something.” You retorted with a sweet smile, giving a light squeeze to his hand, “C’mhere.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, pulling him in to press a soft kiss on his lips. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t easy, but he didn’t want to take pride in something that seemed silly after it had happened. Luckily, he had you to remind him that he was taking the steps he needed to get Summer back. It was the first time you could see the light inside him even if he didn’t want to show it. Just from the difference in his smile, there was that gleam of hope.

As you pulled away, you sealed your lips and grinned at him. Your nose scrunched up as you both giggled, suddenly overwhelmed by the happiness filling yours and Tom’s hearts. You brushed your nose against his, your foreheads pressing together before he gave you another light kiss.

“Okay, I gotta work. You should go home, get some rest.”

“Well, I kind of wanna stay. It’s nice here and you’re just someone cute to look at.” You tilted your head.

“Why don’t you order something, on me, relax for a while and I’ll try to get off work early. Maybe, we can pick up ice cream on the way home to celebrate.”

“Celebrate? Must have been really great news that I can’t wait to hear in detail.” You jeered and he planted a light kiss on your forehead before rounding behind the bar. He grabbed his rag, shoving it in his back pocket and you turned around toward him.

“What would you like to drink tonight, ma’am?” Tom said jokingly, placing a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of you.

Your lips to the side, “A rum and coke and make it dirty, Mr. Barkeep.”

He chuckled as he pulled a glass off the bottom shelf, beginning to make your drink in swift moves. He looked so natural behind the bar as he poured the bottles in intricate ways, finishing off the beverage with two cherries.

“Let me know if you need anything.” He smiled followed by a wink.

“Nothing I can say in public.” You teased before taking a sip of your drink.

Tom smirked at you before moving down the bar, tending to other customers with a natural smile on his lips. You tilted your head with your drink in your hand, almost in awe of him and how handsome he was.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The night was getting louder while the crowd was growing, some people passing by bumping your shoulder even though you were still sat at the bar. You saw a few friends and struck up conversations with them to catch up, not completely bored while Tom was working, but you were worried about him. You hoped that he wouldn’t oddly hurt himself, having to take him to the ER and give him a good “I told you so” talk on the way there.

As you worked on your second drink, your phone vibrated in your purse and the screen lit up. You furrowed your eyebrow at the unknown number but still decided to take it in case it was important. You asked your friend to save your seat as you took your purse, moving through the crowd to get outside. The rain was pouring still, but you stood underneath the awning of the bar as people ran under it, drying themselves off before entering.

“Hello? This is Y/N.”

“Y/N? It’s Summer.” She whimpered, her voice at a whisper.

She stole Maggie’s phone that she left on the charger in her room, sneaking it away and using the emergency numbers written on the tag of her backpack. Tom didn’t answer first, making her worried so she decided to call you and hoped to hear your voice she missed so much.

Your heart dropped, “Summer? Are you okay?”

“No, the lady is mean. She makes me go to bed early with no bedtime stories like Daddy said she would. She-she’s not fun and she leaves me with a strange lady next door.” She sniffled, curled up behind her bedroom door.

“Wh-What strange lady?”

“She’s old and mean too. I don’t wanna be here anymore. I wanna be with you and daddy.” Summer continued to cry at a low volume, muffling her whimpers to not let Maggie hear in the next door.

You felt your heart breaking, not sure what to say since she wasn’t your kid but, in a way, she was. You pinched your nose bridge and the heavy rain making it hard to have a clear mind.

“Um, um, have you talked to your dad? Are you safe?” You asked, frantic as her.

“N-no, Daddy didn’t answer. Please come pick me up. I hate it here.” She wept, her voice shakey as she begged.

You nodded, not able to take it anymore, “You wait there, we’re gonna come to get you.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

The time was almost midnight, but a loud knock echoed against Maggie’s door. She groaned, getting herself out of bed and thinking it was a drunk at the wrong apartment or someone playing a prank. As she approached the door, Maggie put her hair into a bun to clear her vision when she approached the door in the dark. After flicking on the light switch for the warm light above her, she opened the door and saw Tom dripping wet.

“Tom?... It’s almost midnight. I told you not to come here again.”

Tom sighed, “Y/N got a call from Summer and she was upset.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I can’t believe she took my phone. Jesus, what did you teach her? Because she’s been acting out in school, whenever I’m at work, I can’t take her anywhere!” She complained, her arm slapping against her side as the other held the door open.

“I didn’t teach her that. You’re the one who doesn’t know her and I know you’re not treating her right.”

“Oh, how do you know?”

“You leave her with some strange woman when you’re not here?”

“It’s my mother, Tom. I work, I have an actual job, okay? Not some side gig at a crappy bar where I can live on my tips.” She retorted, but it made Tom’s anger quickly grow.

Tom ran his hand through his wet hair, almost defeated by how defensive she was.

“Why are you doing this? She’s upset and she wants to see me.”

“Well, Summer is just a kid, she’ll get over it. Not getting her way is a part of life, Tom. God! You babied her so much that she just comes crying to you.” Maggie hissed at him, ready to slam the door in his face.

“She is a baby! She’s a kid, Maggie. She called Y/N because she can’t stand you. Do you think that’s good for her? Being here?” Tom yelled back, his jaw clenched and his face heating up.

“You know, I’m getting really sick of you saying what Y/N thinks is good for Summer like she’s her stepmother or something.”

“And where were you being mom of the year? Huh? Why do you have such a problem with her, Maggie? She’s the one who helped me throughout raising Summer, not you because you were never here!”

Maggie crossed her arms, her only defense since she didn’t have any words.

“Where were you when she took her first steps? Her first words? When she got her first A in kindergarten? Did you take her to the hospital when you thought she had a peanut allergy or when she fell ice skating? Who was there for her, Maggie?!” Tom persisted, his eyes filling with tears at how angry he felt.

Maggie couldn’t look Tom in the eyes because it was all true, she knew it this whole time, but hearing it out loud made her even feel a bit guilty.

“So, why do you suddenly want her now? Is it money? Or do you really want her to be in your life? I can arrange it any way you want if you really do what her back in your life, but I don’t think it’s fair that you just swoop up and take her away when she’s my kid too. A kid that I raised since you left her on my doorstep six years ago.”

Maggie chuckled out of spite, “You’d never get it.”

“Then tell me! Tell me so I understand. It’s just us right now. Y/N isn’t here and all I want is Summer back home so, what is the reason, Maggie?” Tom asked, his voice a bit more calm, but still frustrated that he hadn’t gotten a straight answer the entire time they had been standing there, “I know there’s a reason why you didn’t tell me all these years that she wasn’t mine. You know it and I know it… I just want you to be honest with me. Okay?” Tom retorted.

She sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. As she rubbed her hands down her face, her breath was shaky as the truth was trying to inch out of your mouth.

“I… Summer’s dad and I were dating and I told him about her and he was… upset. Like, he thought I was just a bad mom and he said he’d leave me if I didn’t just take care of her.” She huffed, shrugging at how stupid it sounded coming out.

Tom was baffled, but he let her explain herself without interrupting.

“H-He left to Vegas or San Diego or wherever. He left me again and now I just… I wanted to prove myself!” She whined, gritting her teeth as a tear trailed down her cheek, “But, she hates me and I don’t blame her, but I know I’m not a mom. I never… wanted a kid, okay? I just… I wanted him back.”

All Tom thought was that she was selfish. He could yell and scream all he wanted, taking Summer away from her in the next few seconds, but nevertheless, he controlled his breathing and tried to hear her out.

“Anything else?” He asked looking down at his feet, his arms crossed and feeling a chill from the AC.

Her eyes were teary, but she nodded, “Don’t hate me, please. Please.” She begged at a whisper.

“I don’t… Just, do the right thing now and let her come back home.” Tom sighed, his voice broken as well.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

Your body felt on fire from how anxious you felt, your foot tapping against the floor of Tom’s car. You waited, thinking your heart was going to burst in your chest if you had to wait any longer. A few minutes went by, concentrating on the time on the radio, but the heavy rain made the car windows look like stained glass. You hated biting at your nails, but you couldn’t help it after hearing Summer’s scared voice.

You curled up in the passenger seat, pulling on the seatbelt. You couldn’t just sit there anymore and do nothing, but stare at the dashboard and listen to the rain hitting the windshield. Your eyes began to tear up, wiping them quickly with the sleeves of your shirt, but you turned your head when you heard the back door open.

Tom was soaked from head to toe by this point, but Summer was curled around him before he set her on the seats. She had her backpack on, her hair damp and she was in her matching pajamas. Rain dripped off her noise and she wiped her wet forehead with the back of her hand.

“You get buckled in, just buckle in, okay?” Tom told her, still standing in the rain as he gave her the buckle of the seatbelt.

She nodded, guiding it across her body and pushing it in the lock until she heard the click.

“There you go.” He nodded, shutting the door and walking around the front of the car.

You sealed your lips as tears ran down your cheeks, tasting how salty your tears were. When Tom sat down, practically throwing himself into the car, your eyes met and you smiled at him. There was a sense of relief back in your lives at this moment, possibly a perfect one. As you glanced over your shoulder, Summer’s head was against the door and her eyes were heavy, but you reached your hand back to meet hers, holding it so tight that you never could think to let go again.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

tags/taglist: @felicityparkers @dhtomholland @duskholland @sinisterspidey@itstaskeen @tomhollandsgirlfriend @bi-writes @infinite-imagination @honeyspidey @hollandcrush @sunsetholland @pparkersbitch @namoreno @calltothewild @spideyspeaches @veryholland @osterfieldshollandgirl @slutforsebstan @bi-lmg @sunshinepeterparkr @annathesillyfriend @madmadmilk @antigoneidk @hollandcreep @wierdflowerpower

#tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x female!reader #dad!tom #bartender!tom

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nevertheless-moving · 3 years

Text

Star Wars AU #20: MacenJar AU

Inspired by this meme and with permission from @simpskywalker

This au is dedicated to everyone who told me that this concept ‘gave them a headache’ or ‘psychic damage’. Especially that special someone who begged me to ‘please stop’ because ‘i hate this, i hate this so much’ and told me ‘please don’t say more words about this.’

Crack Lies Ahead, enough to consume a man. I have spoken.

“Ani. Ani. Anakin Skywalker.”

“Hmm?” The dulcet sounds of Padme calling his name dragged Anakin from sleep against his will.

“Anakin, you have to get up.”

He groaned, rolling over. “...here’s my face...I’ll...be awake in a second...just sit down...I’m awake...”

“No, Anakin you have to leave, remember. You have a 5 AM take-off scheduled, and you made me promise I would get you up early this time, come on.”

She cruelly yanked the covers away. He gasped in betrayal.

“My own wife...how could you.”

“Anakin if you’re not out of bed in the next 30 seconds the next time you beg to stay the night because ‘you can get up early, you swear’ I am kicking you out before anyone sits anywhere near anyone’s face, do you understand.”

He sat bolt upright and stumbled out of bed. “Ok, Ok, I’m up I- Padme!”

“Yes?” She asked sweetly, brushing her hair at the vanity.

“It’s 3 AM!”

“Yes I know, you were going to stop at that bakery I recommended, remember?”

“You woke me up an hour and half early so I could stop at a bakery,” he asked, disbelieving.

“Yes, Anakin, it was your idea. It was going to be your cover, in case anyone wondered what you were doing in the building.”

“That is-” before he could call it the stupidest idea he had ever heard, the memory of promising Padme that staying the night was a good idea because it would facilitate his cunning ruse (he was distracted, ok? Padme was wearing a lot of layers) came rushing back.

“-right,” he finished lamely.

Padme just hummed and began braiding in her cosmetic forcefields.

Anakin managed to stretch, complete his morning refresher run, and arrange his robes in a suitably decorous fashion by the time Padme had established the base layer of her hairstyle for the day.

A quick kiss- no goodbye, it hurt too much to say goodbyes in war - and Anakin was out the door.

He idly scratched his chin, vacantly looking out the lift and vaguely considering growing a beard. The pre-dawn view was quickly replaced by metal walls as the ride dropped below the skyline.

The transparisteel pod began to slow scarcely one third of the way down. Anakin suppressed a groan and tried to arrange his expression in Jedi-stoic manner, hoping that whoever got in the lift with him would be too intimidated by seeing a Jedi close-up to think about what they were doing in a Senatorial Apartment building at 3:15 in the morning. If they ask, I’m visiting the famous Bebbisun Bakery. Bennison? BELLASAN. I’m visiting the Bellasan Bakery.

Actually, anyone getting into the elevator this early was probably also doing the walk of shame so it’s probably fi-KRIFFING SITH SPIT THAT’S

“Master Windu!” Anakin cleared his throat, trying to lower his voice an octave. “Good- Good Morning!”

Windu’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Knight Skywalker. Good morning to you as well,” he replied, stepping in the elevator, doors closing behind.

The lift descended as Anakin’s heart rate skyrocketed. This was it. Windu had to be here for Anakin. What other possible explanation could there be? WHY WASN’T HE SAYING ANYTHING?

Wait.

What other possible explanation...could...why wasn’t he saying ANYTHING?

Anakin scrutinized Master Windu out of the corner of his eye. Were those...the same robes he was wearing yesterday? They looked like the same robes but then again...pretty much all robes looked the same so this was probably a stupid way to figure things out. Fuck, it was too early for this.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t get a sense of the Master’s surface emotions. But his underlying aura seemed...happy? Typically Windu's serene presence had a tinge of righteous fury (something that had frightened him back when he was a child). But now that ever present vaapad edge was... softened? Anakin wracked his tired brain for a more reasonable explanation than- than the obvious but obviously impossible. He had to projecting. Right? Then again...couplings weren’t forbidden (even if Anakin couldn’t quite understand how people enjoyed just- having sex without any attachment).

The corners of Anakin’s lips twitched. The Master of the Order. Getting laid. Master Windu. In the Senatorial apartments. Mace Windu. What level had he gotten on? Above aides...diplomats probably. Should he ask? Force, this was too good- he couldn’t not ask.

Windu stared at him cooly and the knight instantly sobered. What was he thinking? Windu was obviously trying to trick him! If he said anything, Windu would turn it against him! Well, he wouldn’t be fooled so easily. Anakin spent the next several levels of descent staring forward, determined not to be the one to break the silence.

He was so focused that he didn’t notice the lift slowing prematurely again until the doors opened; an elderly Rodian hobbled in. The two Jedi moved even further apart to allow the man some space. The lift closed and newcomer glanced at the humans curiously.

“Aren’t you Jedi? What are two Jedi doing here so early?”

“Bakery,” Mace and Anakin responded in unison, heads snapping to stare at the other in surprise.

The Rodian chuckled. “Oh, that Bellasan place, right?”

“Yes,” Windu replied smoothly. “They have a famously unique caf blend.”

“And you can’t get Sweesonberry rolls anywhere else,” Anakin added quickly, not letting the opportunity to firm up his cover go to waste.

“You mammals and your carbohydrates,” The elderly reptilian clucked, bemused.

Knight Skywalker and Master Windu exchanged wary looks. The door pinged open on level 4848.

“Enjoy!” the overly entertained Rodian called out as they stepped out from the closing doors.

Anakin cleared his throat. “After you, Master Windu,” he said politely. CHECKMATE FUCKER.

But Windu just nodded serenely, striding confidently ahead, past the checkpoints and into the attached upper-crust market. After a very short walk, Anakin found himself in line behind Mace Windu at a pastry shop in the basement of his wife’s apartment building.

Anakin blearily thought that sentence through again, then subtly pinched the inside of his arm.

Nope, he was awake.

Every second that passed Anakin had to fight the steadily increasing urge to blurt out something stupid, and possibly incriminating, if not both. Just say something bland! Nothing about why they’re both here so early. Nothing about coming here before. Something casual.

“Smells good,” Anakin said.

Nailed it!

“Indeed,” Mace replied.

I’m a genius! He actually thinks I’m here for the bakery! He’s never going to suspect a thing! He was probably here for some boring pre-dawn meeting, and now I’ve got the perfect excuse to come visit Padme whenever! I can probably start sneaking off more often, I’ve just got to remember to bring back a pasty or something. And he can’t even say shit about un-Jedi like consumption!

“Skywalker-”

Oh no. Please be about the bakery. Pleasebeaboutthe

“Believe me when I tell you that I’d rather not ask-”

Oh NO. THIS ISN’T GOING TO BE ABOUT THE BAKERY. I’M AN IDIOT.

“-But did you fly here in a temple speeder?”

Cold sweat started to trickle down Anakin’s back as they shuffled forward automatically in the surprisingly long queue. Guess that’s why Padme woke me up so early.

“Knight Skywalker? Did you hear me?”

“Yes, Master Windu, sorry- I was, uh, distracted by the specials board. I, um, have my own hoverbike. Built it myself. No temple resources involved.”

“Sounds...distinctive.” Windu’s tone seemed neutral, but the way he pinched the bridge of his nose was obviously irritated. They stepped forward again. Why are so many people at this bakery so early? Guess we’re far enough down that day/night cycles don’t matter so much. Oh kriff, he’s massaging his temples now. Why is he mad about the bike? Is he going to ask where I landed it? Fuck.

Anakin swallowed the lump in his throat. “I- I thought it would be better to take personal property. Since this isn’t exactly order business.”

“That’s very responsible of you. Such...separation of personal from professional is an important skill for a Jedi.”

The trickle of sweat down his spine increased. The Chosen One discretely wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his sleeves and prayed that his outer robe was hiding any growing pit stains.

Are we...actually talking about this? Is he going to admit to having an affair? Is he going to tell me to keep this quiet? I CAN BARELY KEEP MY OWN RELATIONSHIP SECRET! Does he know about Padme? Does he know we’re married? Is this conversation still about the bakery visit? Is HE married?

“However...such a vehicle might not be the most discrete. And discretion is also an important skill.”

Is he giving me permission to use the temple landspeeders to visit padme? Is he telling me to take the bus? WAIT! IS THIS A METAPHOR? Is he telling me to come here less? Is this still about the bakery? Did I actually check that I wasn’t still asleep or did I just dream that I checked?

“Do you understand, Knight Skywalker”

“I- uhh. I mean- well, ummm- OH look, it’s your turn to order!”

Master Windu stepped up to the counter.

“Hello, again! Same as last time?”

OH FORCE GODS HE’S A REGULAR. THIS IS IT. I’M NEVER GOING TO GET TO SEE OBI-WAN OR ASHOKA AGAIN AND PADME’S CAREER IS GOING TO BE RUINED AND

“The same blend please, but please add on one of your Sweesonberry rolls- a friend recommended them.”

...Did Mace Windu just call me his friend?

“Excellent choice! Your friend has good taste!”

Mace Windu stepped to the side and Anakin Skywalker stepped up. “...I’ll have what he had.”

A minute or two later, they were walking back to the lift, matching disposamugs and flimsibags in hand.

To try and delay the inevitable, the pale and now very sweaty young Jedi took a sip of caf. He raised both brows involuntary. “This is...really good. Holy kriff. I don’t usually drink caf for the flavor but...wow.”

“Worth the trip?” Windu asked. Anakin choked a little but successfully managed to swallow. He took another sip to avoid answering.

Windu took a bite of his roll, making a small noise of appreciation, “The pastry is also excellent. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth but this is remarkably smooth...I can’t say I’ve ever had anything quite like it.”

“Floral, right?” Anakin said, grinning into his cup.

“Yes, that’s a good description.” Ha! I told Padme I was paying attention.

They drank companionably as the lift indicator dinged closer.

“Skywalker...you’re parked on 4970, right?”

The knight nodded, too afraid to speak. The force seemed to swirl at the precipice of something.

The Master sighed. “Look- I’ve got an unregistered van- this one time only, stow the speeder, and I’ll give you a ride back. If you’re visiting the bakery in the future- please take something with a closed cab. Last thing we need is the tabloids wondering where you’re going...”

Anakin nodded again, more eagerly again. He was practically being given permission to visit Padme! That was totally worth an excruciatingly awkward flight back to the temple! He just had to chew slowly so he couldn’t blurt out anything marriage related! He was a genius!

The lift opened.

“Jar-Jar!” Anakin said, surprised and pleased. “Wow, are you also here for the bakery? This place really is popular!”

“Ani! Little Ani! Wassa you doin here?” Jar-Jar looked around wildly, then stumbled out, foot catching at the gap. Windu darted forward and effortlessly saved the Gungan before he hit the floor, while Anakin stuck his arm forward to catch the closing door.

“Bakery, Jar Jar!” he said as he stepped inside. “I’d love to talk, but we’ve actually got to get back to the temple!”

Windu struggled to untangle himself from Jar-Jar, who was being particularly unhelpful about it, even for him. Wow he’s even clingier than usual this early in the morning. It’s nice how patient Master Windu is being; I feel like even Obi-Wan can be too hard on Jar-Jar sometimes.

“Actually Skywalker, why don’t you go on ahead and stow the bike- I just remembered I meant to pick something up for Council; I won’t take long.”

“Uh. Alright,” Anakin said, catching the keys. I guess I can’t really be late if I arrive with Master Windu.

“Ossa no!” Jar-Jar exclaimed sadly. “I was justa saying to Macey lassa night thatsa I missed talkin wit little Ani!”

Anakin smiled reassuringly as the lift began to close. “Don’t worry Jar-Jar! We’ll- catch uh-HOLD ON did you say LAST NIGHT?!”

Mace’s eyes closed in resignation as the door shut on the pair, Jar-Jar still tangled around the Jedi.

AND MACE WASN’T EVEN TRYING TO PUT HIM BACK UPRIGHT ANYMORE HOLY KRIFF JUST PUT THAT TOGETHER.

Anakin stared blankly at the metal walls as they rushed past. The lone Jedi Knight took a long sip of caff, then carefully placed the pastry bag and drink on the floor. He systematically wadded up the sleeve of his robe and shoved in his mouth. He then spent the next few minutes squealing with unholy glee while literally bouncing off the walls in a manner only accessible to a force sensitive in an elevator. He was still panting slightly when the lift opened on the primary parking level.

We can double date! Padme and I can host! I can help Mace and Jar-Jar plan their wedding! We can reform the order to allow for romantic love! I can be Jar-Jar’s best man! Padme and I can have another ceremony and Obi-Wan can give me away while Mace officiates and and then we’ll all have sweesonbury cake and Jar-Jar can help teach our kids how to swim!

With those dreamy thoughts running through his mind, it was child’s work to follow the the force to the unremarkable hovervan. He was humming to himself when Master Windu opened the door.

He beamed at the older Jedi. Windu scowled in reply. Anakin smiled wider, unintimidated. He genuinely liked the Gungan, but anyone who could spend hours with Jar-Jar had to have a soft side.

“You know, Jar-Jar is a long time friend of Senator-”

“No.” Windu cut the eager words brusquely.

Anakin shrank back, a little hurt.

(Maybe a lot hurt.)

Mace glanced over at the obviously crestfallen young General and sighed before amending his words.

“Not- Not right now, alright? Maybe if you’re miraculously more discrete about this than you are about your affection for Senator Amidala, then we can talk, understood?”

Anakin nodded with absolute determination, glimmering images of fairytale weddings visible once more. Distant, perhaps- but the chance was worth any amount of tongue biting. Now that there was a real, possible future where he could have it all, now that he knew Windu had a heart somewhere under his robes- he could be patient.

He could be very patient.

Anakin calmed his grin down to a smaller, more Jedi-like smile, taking a sip of the cool but still really good caf. He channeled Obi-Wan’s most neutral diplomatic grace.

“Thank you for the ride, Master Windu. I appreciate it.”

Windu gave him an approving glance. “You’re more than welcome, Knight Skywalker.”

Feeling bold, he continued on with his best non-mocking impression of Obi-Wan.

"Have you had a chance to read the latest report on helmet redesigns? I think they might really improve peripheral vision without compromising concussive resistance.”

Mace hummed thoughtfully. “I have. I’m somewhat concerned about deploying such a radical change mid-campaign. Even better gear requires an adjustment period, and I’d rather minimize needless deaths while the troops readjust to hud flow.”

“Yes, that’s a reasonable concern, I was talking to Captain Rex-”

They spent the remainder of the flight chatting comfortably about troop safety and absentmindedly eating (or possibly stress eating in response to the prolonged absence of interpersonal conflict) the box of pastries Mace had picked up. When they arrived at the temple, they divvied up the remainder between them, quietly agreeing that there weren’t enough to share anyway.

They continued their conversation, Master Windu accompanying him to the orbital loading bay.

Obi-Wan rushed over in alarm at the sight of them approaching. “Anakin, there you are- I was starting to wonder if you’d make it. Terribly sorry Master Windu- I hope he wasn’t too much of a bother-”

“He’s not your padawan anymore, you don’t have to apologize for him. Though I do appreciate the reflex.”

“I suppose the concern isn’t completely baseless.” Anakin said, tone deliberately mildly. Mace chuckled slightly and Obi-Wan took a step back, slightly frightened by the sudden camaraderie. Anakin pretended to take a sip from his now empty disposamug to avoid fist pumping the air or cheering.

“I- Yes well- the important thing is you’re here in time for departure. What- what is that in the bag.”

Moment of Truth. Don’t freak out. Focus. Prove you can be discrete, THEN double dates, THEN Jedi Wedding Ceremony.

“Sweesonbury Roll,” Anakin answered placidly. He pretended to take another sip of caf. “Master Windu was kind enough to give me a ride from the bakery.”

“That’s- I’m sorry, what?” Anakin bit the inside of cheek to keep himself from reacting to Obi-Wan’s palpable bewilderment.

“I had to double back and get more, but we came straight here after,” Mace added helpfully, with zero hint of intentional mischief. “Oh and Skywalker- you can call me Mace if we’re not discussing temple business.”

Anakin SCREAMED (internally, of course). Outwardly, he simply bowed politely. “And you’re welcome to call me Anakin, of course.”

He deliberately avoided looking directly at Obi-Wan, his former Master’s bug-eyed reaction already pushing him to the edge, even just visible as it was out of the corner of his eye.

Windu nodded in return. “Safe travels you two. May the force with you.”

“And with you.” Anakin replied.

“May the force be with you,” Obi-Wan rushed to say, after a short delay.

Master Windu turned and exited the cargo bay doors. Anakin threw out the mug in a nearby bin, pulling out a roll and biting into it before turning to face Obi-Wan. They made eye-contact, each waiting for the other to break first. Usually that would be Anakin, but he had goals now. The Knight chewed. His Master’s eyes narrowed. The older man (who may have aged significantly in the last 5 minutes) finally broke.

“Who are you?”

Anakin just sighed, maintaining the Kenobi impression. “Come on Master, we don’t want to keep the troops waiting.” With that, he walked forward, hiding his smile as Obi-Wan followed closely at his heels.

“Since when does my apprentice visit bakeries with Mace Windu?” Obi-Wan asked, almost desperately.

“You’re making it sound like a bigger deal than it is.”

Master Kenobi sputtered as the pair opened the airlock for the short-range shuttle.

Anakin mustered up an earnest smile. “Master? Would you mind flying- I’m still eating and-”

Obi-Wan made an incoherent noise of horrified outrage before fumbling for his communicator.

“What are you doing?”

“NOTHING IS MAKING SENSE RIGHT NOW. EITHER YOU AND MACE NEED TO GO TO THE HEALING HALLS OR I DO!”

Anakin burst out laughing. “Relax Obi-Wan, I’m messing with you, holy shit. Obviously I’m flying.”

Obi-Wan slumped into the co-pilot seat, rubbing at his eyes. “Don’t do that Anakin! My nerves are stretched thin enough by the war as it is-”

“Sorry, Sorry!”

They strapped in and took off, Anakin still chuckling occasionally, Obi-Wan scowling in irritation each time.

They ascended above the towering skyline alongside the first rays of sunlight.

“So you didn’t go to a bakery with Master Windu this morning?”

“Uhh-”

#star wars #my au #macenjar au #star wars au no 20 #crack treated seriously #mace windu #macenjar #ok i KNOW this is crack but i actually worked really hard on it and im very proud #so i would appreciate if you gave it a chance before forming judgements #NOTHING GRAPHIC OH MY GOD #star wars au #crack #crackship #anakin and padme wake up in bed together and have a married couple anidala conversation and then its PG after that i SWEAR #G RATED EVEN #Mace Windu and Anakin Skywalker #becoming friends is my comfort trope ok

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 3 years

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UNPLANNED, Jeff & Glenne’s wedding

author’s note: MY GIRL GLENNE GOT MARRIED SO YOU KNOW I HAD TO!!!!!!!!

Jane tugged at your pearl necklace, her flower girl dress was already wrinkled at the bottom and she probably needed a snack.

“Do you know where he is?” Glenne’s voice was frantic, and if you hadn’t already seen the writing on the wall, now was a good time to realize she was a terminally stressed-out human. The day of her wedding was not exempt.

“He’ll be here,” you reassured her, watched as her mother zipped up the back of her dress. “He said he was writing some last minute additions.”

Clicks from the photographer’s camera cut between her words. “Y/N, if your boyfriend ruins my wedding, so help me God.”

Lexi appeared from the bathroom, her arms outstretched to take Jane from you and offer her some cheerios. “Who’s ruining what?”

“Harry is gonna ruin everything,” Glenne turned around, her lips were perfectly glossed, hair tousled in a divine way. She was perfect, she looked beautiful, but her anxiety was through the roof and no one seemed to know how to calm her down.

“Harry is going to be fine,” Lexi assured her. “And you literally had the last six months to freak out over asking him to officiate your wedding, so…”

“Well he’s late--he’s not even here and we’re supposed to start the ceremony in--” Glenne looked down at her phone on the bed. It was blowing up, Jeff, presumably, just as anxious and likely freaking out over Harry’s absence. “Three minutes. We’re supposed to start in three minutes.”

You held back a giggle and smiled at your friend. You couldn’t tell her, you couldn’t explain that this was all part of Harry’s plan: freak her out and make her think that he’d dropped the ball, waited until the last second to write up the ceremony and get things in line. Buy some time and keep her in the hotel for a few more minutes. Distract, distract, distract.

But he wasn’t late, he was somewhere outside, his lateness was the distraction he and Jeff had put in place to surprise Glenne with a performance tonight from an artist Glenne had been obsessed with for literal decades.

Jeff was in on it, too--which Glenne had no idea about. His last minute texts where he bad mouthed Harry’s lack of punctuality were all a ruse, one that you were starting to laugh about when Glenne looked up at you with wide eyes. “What is so funny? This is comical to you?”

“No, no,” you shook your head. “I just know it will all be okay. He’s been so excited to do the ceremony, Glenney.”

“Well,” she sighed, looked over to Lexi and then to her sister, two cousins were also waiting in the living room area of her suite. “Should we go out there?”

“Yes,” Lexi nodded. “And let’s get you a drink while we’re at it. This is supposed to be fun, remember?”

“Oh I remember,” Glenne smiled, “I just hope I don’t have to murder anyone tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, took Jane back in your arms when she giggled at a silly face Lexi made. You followed them out through the hotel hallways and onto the beautiful grounds. A clear top tent sat off in the distance, lights strung up to its peak for the main event. Your heels wobbled on the manicured lawn and Jane squinted in the Southern California sun. You were ushered into place, hoping that she would be able to waddle down the aisle and throw out petals like you had practiced the night before.

Jeff and his parents had already gathered beneath the ceremony trellis, they looked tiny in the distance, stood in front of the ten rows on each side of the aisle. In the middle, almost blending into the flowers and rose bushes behind him, stood Harry.

Glenne’s sister spotted it first: “What on earth is he wearing, Y/N?”

Lexi and the other bridesmaids burst out laughing, the sight of Harry in a white hotel bathrobe and slippers was enough to make Glenne freeze.

“Oh my fucking God,” Glenne laughed, a smile cracked on her face when she turned to look at you again. “He’s literally getting murdered tonight,” she giggled. “Always has to be the center of attention, doesn’t he?”

Jane giggled when the others did, a woman with a headset barked more orders for everyone to line up, the rest of the groomsmen appeared and linked arms with their assigned partner.

Harry--being the person he was--knew damn well that Glenne would lose her shit over him wearing a bathrobe to officiate their marriage ceremony. Which is why he had a partially unbuttoned dress shirt underneath, boxers on and pants waiting nearby. He wouldn’t actually perform the ceremony like that, but he wanted her to have a heart attack thinking he might.

You weren’t too sure about it at first. Get Glenne all riled up right before her wedding, piss her off and give her a good reason to think that Harry officiating their wedding was the worst decision they’d made? Risky.

But they needed a diversion, something that would keep Glenne’s attention away from the tent and away from the smuggling of a superstar into her wedding--one that she’d planned every single detail and minute of months in advance.

When you listened to Harry and Jeff talk about it in your living room and plan it all out, the robe, the book, the scotch--you knew that the surprise would be worth it and you knew she’d be thrilled with the outcome. Even if she was left thinking for a little bit that Harry was an asshat.

Jeff was right, it has to be something stupid and big and totally weird to throw her off course.

I’ll take on for the team, Harry agreed.

Soon the music played and everyone fell into step. Jane didn’t cry, instead she smiled at Harry at the end of the aisle and wobbled forward in her party shoes, holding onto your fingers as she smiled at the guests who waved and cooed in her direction. You took it upon yourself to toss the petals out and hoped it would suffice for Glenne.

Yet when she made her way down the aisle, her eyes meeting Jeff’s for the first time today, everything else seemed to melt away. Harry’s robe was not the center of attention, and he pulled on some trousers and fixed himself up in the first few minutes of the ceremony, all the while using it as a way to break the ice.

“Glenne might be one of the most diligent, hardworking, and responsible people I know,” he said to the crowd. “She’s also quite Type A and I figured giving her a good scare right before she marries Jeff would use up any nerves she might have today.”

He smiled in your direction before continuing. “And Jeff is also quite Type A--he’s an incredible manager and friend and partner, and being able to join the two of them today in marriage will likely be the highlight of my year.”

Maybe it was being in front of a crowd, or maybe it was the glass of champagne she’d downed in the hotel room right before coming outside, but Glenne softened once Harry had tugged up his trousers and gained enough of a laugh from everyone.

They’d written their own vows, words of promise that brought tears to your eyes and made Jane clap her hands together excitedly. She cheered when they kissed, and you were pleased that phase one had gone as swimmingly as it had.

Glenne was so swept up in the moment that she had seemed to forget all about it, happily strutting down the aisle with Jeff by her side when the music played again. You stuck around and let Jane crawl into Harry’s arms as guests filed out. “Do you need me to do anything?”

“No,” he shook his head, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your lips. “She doesn’t suspect anything, right?”

“Not at all,” you smiled. “But she did say she was going to murder you.”

He smirked, watched as the guests filed out and started greeting each other for cocktail hour. “I think helping Jeff pull off the surprise of a lifetime will be a good way to go.”

“Well hopefully when Justin Timberlake shows up to serenade them at their wedding she’ll forget all about you in a bathrobe being her first sight when she walked down the aisle.”

“Ugh, we are killing it, Jane! Auntie Glenne is going to be so excited,” he told your daughter, nuzzling his face into hers when she grinned up at him.

“Auntie Glenne already wants to kill you,” Lexi appeared suddenly. “So you need to get over there and put that bathrobe on for more photos. She was just asking why there’s a live-mic getting set up with a stage in there.”

Lexi pointed at the tent--you could see the last minute touches being put in place for the big performance.

“I can’t believe I’m the sacrificial lamb,” he looked at both of you. “Taking the piss and being labeled as the worst officiator ever for showing up in a robe, all to distract her from the plan her now husband hatched in our living room when he was drunk.”

Both you and Lexi watched him for a second, unimpressed with his mini monologue.

“As if you don’t love the attention and the theatrics,” Lexi shot back.

“Well, I can’t believe you guys are putting her through this,” you laughed, pulling Jane out of his arms so he could continue on with his official duties.

“I know--she’ll forgive me soon enough.”

He pressed another kiss to your face and was off, grabbed a glass of scotch from Jeff’s brothers and changed behind a bush back into the robe. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe it was genius: keep her distracted and pissed off enough with a silly outfit to make the surprise even more special.

You watched her hit him playfully in the chest when you made your way over. The entire bridal party had gathered round for photos.

“Aren’t you not supposed to wear white?” Glenne joked with him, took another look at the robe when Jeff reached up a hand to let Harry twirl around under, really showing off his get up.

“Glenne, forgive me,” he smiled, “I just had to be comfortable!”

“Comfortable my ass!” She laughed, accepted a flute of champagne from a server and picked a fuzz off of Jeff’s suit. “You can be comfortable later--not right now.”

“A few photos like this, though, babe,” Jeff begged. “Don’t you want to remember how much of a dick Harry was at our wedding?”

She eyed Harry closely, and for a second you were sure she was on to them. “Fine--but only because you look absolutely ridiculous and this will be perfect blackmail.”

Harry wrapped his arms around her for a picture, “I can live with that.”

It wasn’t until speeches were made and dinner was eaten that phase two began. Jeff and Glenne had been practicing their first dance for weeks, the music started to play over the speakers and everyone watched as they swayed in the center of the dance floor.

Harry, who knew exactly the moment the song would end and things would take a sudden turn, had his arms around your shoulders and swayed behind you. “S’nice, isn’t it?”

“That Glenne is about to have a stroke in front of all these people because her celebrity crush is about to pop out of nowhere?”

“No,” he laughed, “this--the wedding stuff.”

“Oh,” you smiled, “yeah, it’s a beautiful place.”

“Would you want something this big?”

You looked over your shoulder, saw Lexi swaying with Jane in her arms at the table over.

“Probably not,” you admitted.

“That’s good.”

“Oh?” You looked over your shoulder at him with a smirk. “Why’s that good?”

“Well,” he took a dramatic pause. “If you plan on marrying me--which I really hope you do--we might be stuck having something extremely small and private.”

You tried not to smile, tried not to get swept away in the idea of marrying Harry and continuing to build a family with him. You’d just made it a year--366 days since Jane was born and the biggest plans you had moving forward was her first birthday party next week, once Glenne and Jeff were back from their honeymoon, of course.

Before you could reply, though, the song ended, the crowd cheered for Jeff and Glenne, and then people started to gasp when a man in a tuxedo emerged from the crowd and took the stage.

“Jeff and Glenne,” he spoke into the mic, you peered through the crowd to see her face. White, like she’d seen a ghost, or better, Justin Timberlake. “I’m so excited to be here tonight and to help you celebrate. Glenne, your husband let me know how much it would mean for me to sing a specific song for you tonight.”

Lexi thrust Jane into Harry’s arms and grabbed your hand. “We need to be on the dance floor for this!” She tugged you through people, your bridesmaids dresses automatically giving you the right to elbow them out of your way to get closer to Glenne’s impending freak out.

Harry took Jane and laughed, waved you off and let you throw your arms around Glenne when Justin started to sing SexyBack.

“No fucking way!” She screamed over the cheers, “did you know about this?”

“Of course we knew about this,” Lexi laughed. “Who do you think helped make everything run so smoothly?”

“Oh my God,” Glenne laughed, “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“We wanted to make sure the day was really special,” Jeff laughed, pulled her close and kissed her again. “And our good pal Harry offered to be the world’s best distraction so we could make sure everything ran smoothly.”

“I knew there was a reason he was wearing that,” she hid her face in her hands.

“Hey, Harry knows how to cause a scene,” Lexi teased.

“Where is he?!” Glenne searched around the dance floor, a sea of people thrilled with the live performance.

He was standing off to the side, bopping around with Jane in his arms, mouthing the words to her and pulling her hand back and forth to pull a giggle from her.

“Just being the world’s best dad,” Jeff smiled and nudged you. “Go get him!”

You got his attention, pulled him back to your circle of friends and felt relief wash over you when Glenne gave him a playful punch in the arm. “I might still murder you for giving me a heart attack, but I’ll try to hold back.”

“You’re welcome, Glenne,” Harry joked, his eyes wide. “You are literally the world’s most meticulous bride, so our scheme to pull one over on you had to be crazy.”

“Yeah, well, I guess Justin Timberlake is a good way to make up for wearing a bathrobe to my wedding ceremony.”

“So you forgive me?”

She thought about it for a second, laughed when he rolled his eyes. She wrapped her arms around him and looked up at him. “If anyone was going to wear white to my wedding, I’m glad it was you. But I’m definitely leaking those photos to the press.”

table of contents | talk to me | the playlist

tag list: @stepping-into-the-light @thurhomish @afterstylesmadeit @iconicharry @harryspirate @mellamolayla @harryinsweatersandbandanas @stylesfantasy @clorenafila @mell-love @anssu-amry @yelllowgrass @littlesoldierelleora @styles217 @rachkon @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @myhat @rosegoldbel @passionate-dreamerr @grammyforstyles @haute-romance-quotidienne @dontgiveupthedayjob @ursamajor603 @craic-head-horan @heavenspidey @talk-british-2-me-britbritharry @iwantedmacmaddybutitstaken @winter-soldier-007 @ssllbb @wanderlustiing @jdcharliewhiskey @caritocp @kaybee87 @wildbeee @hsunflowervol @harrys-medicines @tobe-sogolden @theresnooneheretosave @1d-tommo5 @soullikestyles @mrsfstyles @you-youneverdo @fstopsteph @cock-a-doodely-doo @s-u-t @mleestiles @rubytersteege @heartsandwheels @rainbowparadiseharry @ainatirb-j @sing-me-a-song-harry @g0bl1nqueen @mmithharold @harrymfingstyless @yourpolaroid07 @zarrysfineline @pinkpolaroidgirl @staceystoleyourheart @kind-heart @galsingold @adams-tammy72 @ednaofearth @neverland-city @zna0000 @mythoughtsvsreality @damnigotadime @stylesfics-xx @goldenncherrybombb @splendidsunsetsx @guccicreature @niallsfoolsgold @sunnflowerchild @lanallaa @harrys-stan @kialawley7274 @odetostep @wastedsweetcreature @rainbowbutterflyboy @live-at-the-forum @ajayque @goldenngracee @youredeadrong @indaydreamswithme @amaridon @icedsoylattes @cronias13 @sltwins @rbforsmileycal @tobesosunflower @noxiousacilegna @svnflowrv6 @flagitiume @splamilton @sloanferg @szaghata @girlgotattitude448 @ji5hine @strawberrrypie @stay-lovely @pwettyyharry @hufflepuff-always-and-forever @swooningoverstyles @golden-asoab @svnflowervol-6 @twinswallows @kammy67 @bookwormandteasstuff @peter-prkr @harrys-suits @kiwicherryharry @harriedstylus @harbear77 @tpwkxxkiwis @theresalotof0spaceoutthere @allthenicekids @harrys-watermelons @laura-q @sweeeetcreeaturee @britnicole11 @crowdedimagines @winesex @abundanceofsoph @spideys-wife @cherryyharryy @goldencherrymooon @begluketostay @jcgarciaa12 @thesarcasticshrink @magiclolipopqueen

#unplanned #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fic #harry styles fiction #harry styles blurb #idkthisisjustforfanfic #liz no one asked you

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hibiscusangel15 · 3 years

Text

Rumors

Day 22 Prompt: there’s been talk about us

Summary: Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. For Day 22 of @ichirukimonth 2021.

Rating: Gen/K

*Also crossposted to AO3 and FFN!

If you like my fic, please consider buying me a coffee!

We fear that which we cannot see.

“Hey, have you heard?”

“That Kurosaki kid—”

“Yes, that Kuchiki girl—”

“No way! A delinquent joining our class?”

“Of course that untalented recruit is a noble. It’s the Kuchiki influence. I thought so, too!”

Rumors chased after Ichigo and Rukia their entire lives. People liked to gossip about their appearances. About their statuses. It was always the trivial matters that rubbed others the wrong way.

And then came the rumors about the nature of their relationship. A bit surprising, to be sure, but not altogether unexpected, given how petty gossip hounds could be. Just another bored rumor passed along the mill that would eventually be forgotten and replaced with something new.

They both denied it as firmly as they could. It never satiated others’ nosy appetites for long.

All those rumors fell away when she was whisked back to Soul Society. They were the last thing on his mind when he and the others fought to rescue her. He’d forgotten about them completely until she and the other Shinigami showed up during the next semester, unannounced, and the rumors started up again.

It didn’t help that she was living with him now, either.

“What’s the deal with you and Rukia-chan anyway?” Isshin asked while helping his son with the dishes. The girls were having fun getting to know each other upstairs, so he figured he’d step in.

Ichigo threw him a peeved side-glance. “What do you mean? She already told you she has no money or relatives here to help her.”

“So you volunteered to take her in without a second thought, huh?”

“You expect me to let her fend for herself?” The defensive edge in his voice made Isshin pause.

He smiled as he took a dish from the rack to dry. “No, of course not. You’ve always been the type to stick your neck out for someone in need. Why do you think your mom and I named you Ichigo?”

Ichigo said nothing, just continued washing dishes. If one good thing could be said about his punk of a son, it was the fact that he never flaunted his inner strength.

“You’ve never really had many friends growing up. For the longest time, the only friend you had was Tatsuki-chan and then Chad. Everyone else was too scared to try and talk to you. So I’m glad you’re putting yourself out there this year and making a bunch of new friends, Ichigo.”

His son’s face softened.

“That being said, you never answered my question, my son.” Isshin’s eyes sparkled with a single-minded pursuit. “Could it be you don’t trust me enough to tell me the truth? Or is it that you're too shy?”

That all-too-familiar scowl returned to Ichigo’s face. “What the hell’re you talking about, Dad?”

“There you go, dodging the question again! I’m talking about Rukia-chan! Is she, y’know, your girlfriend?”

“My...girlfriend?” A dish slipped from Ichigo's grasp and shattered into pieces.

“Aw crap!” he swore, stooping to the floor. “Sorry, Dad!”

Before he could reach for the largest piece, Isshin gently pushed his son's hands away. “Let me handle this, Ichigo. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Go get the trash can.”

“Dad, it’s no trouble. I can get it.”

Isshin paused. “To be honest with you, son, my joints ain’t as spry as they used to be. I probably can’t get up right now even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, what? You’re such an old man,” Ichigo said as he pushed himself up.

At that moment, Isshin slipped a small pill into his mouth. Urahara’s gigai tech might have been impressive when he was first gifted the thing, but damn was it getting more and more unresponsive as he got older.

After Ichigo cleared the shards away, Isshin let his son finish washing the dishes. It was the easiest way to trap him there, at any rate.

“Anyway,” he began again, “what is Rukia-chan to you?”

His son hesitated, brown eyes darting around as if he could pull some bullshit excuse from the murky dishwater.

He covered it up with yet another scowl. “We’re just friends. Sorry to disappoint you and Yuzu.”

“Aw, c’mon, Ichigo! Your sister and I are just curious!”

“You guys are way too keen about my nonexistent love life. Why don’t you two get lives of your own?”

“You kids might not understand this since you’re so young, but when you become a parent, your life revolves around your kids! That means your life is my life, too!” Isshin clenched his fist. “So c’mon, Ichigo! Tell me everything! Don’t be shy!”

“I’m not being shy. Quit bugging me.”

“Oh?” Isshin’s eyes gleamed. “Only a truly shy man would be so cold! Come now, my son! Confess your deepest, darkest secrets to your father!”

As soon as he tried to embrace his son, all turned black as his face rammed right into Ichigo’s elbow.

* * *

The girls upstairs heard a loud crash and Ichigo’s infuriated cursing.

Karin frowned at the floor. “There they go again. God, it’s so exhausting living with them. Sorry, you’re just going to have to deal with them for the time being.”

Rukia slapped on an innocent smile. “Oh, I don’t mind! I think a lively household is kind of fun!”

Another crash thundered through the house as the two men continued brawling away. Karin sighed. “Fun, huh?”

“I just hope they remember to clean up after themselves! I’d hate to clean the kitchen again when I already did it last weekend!” Yuzu said.

Rukia had heard their muffled fighting before when she hid in Ichigo’s closet. To actually bear witness to the Kurosaki family’s antics was another matter entirely. Compared to the piercing silence of the Kuchiki household, this was a much more comforting change of pace.

“Now don’t take this the wrong way, Rukia-chan.” Yuzu fidgeted on her bed . “But…um….”

Karin tilted her head back with a loud sigh. “She wants to know if you and our stupid brother are dating.”

“Karin!” Yuzu shouted, scandalized.

“It’s what you wanted to ask her since she arrived, right?”

“Dating?” Rukia repeated. “No, we’re just friends!”

“Just friends, huh?” Karin muttered.

“Yes, of course.”

“So you say.”

“Karin!”

“I’m just saying it’d be way more interesting if all this was some elaborate ruse for Ichigo to introduce his girlfriend to the family is all.” She flopped back onto her bed, letting her legs swing freely over the edge.

“That certainly would be more interesting, I suppose,” Rukia conceded. “Unfortunately, that’s not true. No offense to your brother, but he’s too honest to think of doing something like that.”

The three paused when Ichigo’s booming sneeze echoed up to them from downstairs.

Karin smirked. “Friend, girlfriend. It’s all the same to me, I guess.” She pointed a finger at Rukia. “You and I might get along swimmingly once you drop that nice-girl act and be yourself, though.”

Rukia blinked. And here she thought her human girl schtick would work here, too.

The smile that crossed her lips was softer, more natural this time. “You and your brother have the same instincts, I see.”

“I’d say I’m better at reading people than he is. He’s a big dope.” Karin waved dismissively.

Yuzu’s warm smile grew. “Whether you’re just friends with Ichi-nii or something more, I’m still glad to have you in our home, Rukia-chan! It’s nice to have more girls in the house for once!”

Rukia dipped her head. “I’m grateful that you’re letting me stay here without questioning my motives. I hope I won’t be a burden to any of you.”

“If you can keep my brother and my dad in line, you’d be more of a help than a hindrance,” Karin said. “Anyway, Yuzu tends to snore and fuss in her sleep, so I hope you can deal with that, too.”

Yuzu flushed and threw a pillow at her sister’s bed. “Karin! I don’t snore!”

Siblings showed the oddest resemblances to one another from time to time. Karin's teasing grin was so much like her brother's that it made Rukia smile in return. Ichigo then barged into the room and plunked himself on the edge of her bed to hang out with them. They all talked about their day and mocked each other in that special way only siblings could. It was warm and exasperatedly caring.

All those silly rumors that once passed around Karakura High about her and Ichigo dating would definitely escalate if anyone saw her living with him. It didn’t matter to her either way.

For once, she'd found a place where she didn’t have to worry about being judged. Rukia could dare to be happy. She dared to relax and laugh along with them. The Kurosaki family treated her like she belonged, and that was enough.

* * *

“Wait, they live together? Are you sure?”

“Of course! Kojima-san went to their house the other day to bring Kurosaki all the homework he missed, and he told me that Kuchiki-san was the one who answered the door! And she took it from him on his behalf! Like she was his girlfriend or something!”

“No way someone as pretty as her would be shacking up with a guy like that, right?”

“I don’t know. You remember how she climbed in through the third-story window and kicked him in the face and smacked him around? If anything, I feel sorry for Kurosaki.”

Now those rumors couldn’t be helped either. Rukia needed somewhere to stay, and like a little pest, she wormed her way into Ichigo's home and his everyday life. And with his month-long Vizard training going on, he wasn’t exactly around to put a stop to them.

The rumors really started to get out of hand once Ichigo, his friends, and all those weird kids who joined in the middle of the semester disappeared at the same time. No one knew where they went, or if they were even alive.

Some theorized that they had all dropped out to form a street gang. Others proposed the idea that Kurosaki and Kuchiki-san had eloped and invited all their friends to the wedding. All of which were extremely ridiculous, but who was to prove them wrong? Certainly not the subjects of the rumors themselves.

Oddly enough, both Asano and Kojima were the first to dismiss any rumors they heard. They seemed less enthusiastic about it, like their friend’s love life was no longer a fun puzzle to work out. They hung a lot more around Arisawa, who was equally morose and exhausted with it all.

Of course, this only fueled the wild rumors further. Perhaps they were bummed out that they weren’t included in whatever escapades Kurosaki and his other friends got involved with.

Then Kurosaki returned. Without any of those weird friends of his. Without that odd Kuchiki girl by his side.

Kurosaki Ichigo became a recluse, even among those he once called friends.

Perhaps they’d broken up. Maybe she had to move away.

The mystique of their relationship died down pretty quickly after that.

It was not until May of their final year of high school did rumors about Kuchiki Rukia returning circulate around the school. Someone claimed to have seen her hanging around Karakura again. With how eagerly Kurosaki cancelled the rest of his sports team contracts to leave school earlier, it seemed more and more plausible.

Inoue Orihime’s own confirmation that the Kuchiki girl was indeed back only fueled the flames. Apparently, Kuchiki Rukia and all the new kids had to move far away all of a sudden. No, they weren’t all a weird family. No, she would not return to Karakura High.

As for the rumor covering Kuchiki Rukia and Kurosaki Ichigo’s relationship status, Inoue, Arisawa, and Kojima were all tight-lipped on the matter. Despite their best efforts, Asano Keigo was not all that great at keeping secrets, and it only took a bit of pressure for him to crack.

“No, they’re not dating! Can you believe that?” he’d screech at anyone who would listen. “I swear, I’ve tried so hard to hook them up, but nothing I do works! Tell me, what’s a guy gotta do to help his dumbass friend score, huh?”

* * *

Rukia was in the middle of writing up a report when Ichigo decided to show up for an impromptu visit. Admittedly, it was nice catching up with him, but it did wreck her entire work schedule for the day.

Well, perhaps wreck wasn’t the right word for it. She didn’t mind his company. She just normally finished up faster than this.

The odd look her brother threw her when she requested that they be left alone put her off. It did not help that she had flushed when Renji raised a tattooed eyebrow at her before he left, nor the fact that the servants hushed their giggles when Ichigo looked over his shoulder at them.

“Hey, is something going on around here?” he asked after catching the latest servant stifling a smile as she passed. “The servants have been whispering to each other all day.”

That’s because you decided to barge in so blatantly like you live here, you fool, she wanted to say.

Rukia shrugged affectedly. “People like to talk.”

About us, to be precise.

Ichigo scoffed. “People are always talking about me like I’m some kind of freak because of my hair. I’ve never cared all that much about gossip. It’s all bullshit anyway.”

She set her brush down on the inkstone. “I see. You too, huh?”

“Too?” he repeated, finally looking over at her.

“You heard Nii-sama explain why I was adopted into the Kuchiki clan, correct?” She took his silence as a yes. “The Kuchiki name is a prestigious one, but that notoriety does not come without its costs. The moment I was adopted, I was immediately placed in Squad Thirteen despite never having graduated from the Shinigami Academy. I was deemed a product of nepotism, and the other squad members hated me for it.”

Rukia shut her eyes. The memory of Kaien’s warmth flickered in the back of her mind. That would be a story for another day.

“It may seem ridiculous to you, how such a thing could hurt me.” Her smile did not reach her eyes.

He shook his head. “It’s not ridiculous, Rukia. What’s ridiculous is all the stuff people assumed about you. They don’t even know you.”

“No,” she said. “But even worthless rumors can start to take their toll once enough of them build up.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m gonna change that.”

Her smile fell. “How so?”

“We’re friends,” Ichigo said without any hesitation whatsoever. “So anyone who talks shit about you gets the business end of my sword.”

“A little extreme, don’t you think?”

Ichigo snorted but said nothing else.

To alleviate the tension brewing around him, she teased, “And what rumors about yourself have you heard lately? I’ve heard quite a lot. I’ve even been asked to confirm a few, on occasion.”

“Yeah? Like what?”

Rukia turned the various rumors over in her mind, struggling to find the best way to spin it. A joke perhaps? Could he laugh off something like this?

No, Ichigo would probably get embarrassed and storm off to find the cretin who started these unsavory rumors in the first place. She would assume such talk was unbefitting of those who served in the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, but apparently she was mistaken.

“Nothing much. Petty gossip.” She continued writing her report as if such matters didn’t concern her at all. “About you and I, mostly. What we are to each other.”

Ichigo scowled. “Not this again.”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“It’s like people don’t have anything else to do with their lives. Stop trying to live vicariously through us already.”

Rukia paused. “Live vicariously?”

“Yeah, it’s like when people try to experience stuff through—”

“No, I know what it means. But what did you mean by that?”

The moment he met her eyes, she understood. There was a frantic, helpless gleam to them, but even so, he did not dare look away.

It was not a challenge, but more a question. It was a plea. His confession.

“Oh. I see.”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to…. I mean, it’s not…. This wasn’t the way that I wanted to….”

Ichigo put his head in his hands and took a deep breath. When he finally sat up straight again, he looked her right in the eye. “Rukia, do you want to go out with me?”

“Oh?” She leaned her head in a hand, the corner of her mouth tugging up. “Are you sure you want to prove those rumormongers right?”

He scowled. “This isn't about them! I told you, I don’t give a shit about what other people think. It wasn’t the rumors that made me like you.”

“What a bold thing to admit.” She covered her mouth in mock surprise.

“Ugh, shut up! It’s hard enough to say as it is.”

Rukia began to laugh. “You’re so strange, Ichigo. I like that about you, though.”

He tried and failed to hide how red his face had become. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.” Her smile became more genuine then as she reached her hand out to his. “I am happy you asked. Although, I hope you know that it is uncouth of you to drop in on a woman unannounced. According to what I read about courting in the World of the Living, it is also customary to have a chaperone along with us on our dates.”

“Yeah, that’s been outdated for centuries now. What the hell kind of books are you even reading?” he scoffed.

“How rude! And here I was, excited to ask Nii-sama to accompany us for our first date!”

“What? Don’t bring Byakuya into this!”

Their silly bickering echoed all throughout the courtyard. Even still, they did not let go of the other's hand.

* * *

"Hey, have you heard?"

"That Substitute Shinigami and Lieutenant Kuchiki are dating?"

"Why is this news? Weren't they already a couple?"

"Ah, I see! So I was right all along."

Years and years of speculation, only to have the confession be far more mundane than they hoped.

The funny thing about rumors was, once they were confirmed, they lost their appeal extremely quickly.

Another rumor soon came to take its place.

"Kurosaki Ichigo is a noble? No way!"

"Sure, he looks a lot like Lieutenant Shiba, but isn't he just a human?"

"You sure he didn't just marry into the Kuchiki family?"

And so it goes. And so the rumors circled back once again.

If you can say that your heart doesn't change

Then that is strength.

No, nothing can change my world.

The only time a petty rumor is actually one hundred percent true lol. But I mean, it's not hard to disprove with the way they're always looking at each other.

I suppose this fic can kind of fit in the same AU as Home and Clearing Away the Rain. Maybe consider it a prequel of sorts, if you like!

Thanks for reading! Until next time!

#IRMonth2021 #Day 22: there's been talk about us #Ichiruki #OTP: Black Sun and White Moon #Kurosaki Ichigo #Kuchiki Rukia #Kurosaki Isshin #Kurosaki Karin #Kurosaki Yuzu #Bleach #my fanfiction

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foulcrownkryptonite · 3 years

Text

The Man He Loved

Erwin x Levi

Levi disagrees with Erwin’s plan and confronts him after a meeting with the Scouts.

3.4K words

Content Warnings: swearing, bursts of anger, general meanness before the cavity inducing fluff comes into play :)

Levi sat quietly, arms crossed and eyes scanning each of the Scouts as Erwin laid out this coming mission's details. It was late and everyone was past the brink of exhaustion, but this meeting was unfortunately urgent. Eren and Historia… Those damned Internal Police lackies will stop at nothing to get their filthy hands on the two kids. And with the influence they have, their chance at success is more than possible. There was no time to waste. What they needed was a plan of action, an infallible one, at that.

“We still have many uncertainties about the titans and what the Beast titan’s plans are…” Erwin continued. “But keeping Eren and Historia safe is of the utmost priority. Humanity will fall if the Internal Police get their hands on them. In two days' time, we’ll need to devise a distraction.” Distraction? Levi swiftly side eyed Erwin as he continued his disquisition, his prominent features set in dedication. Why doesn't he tell me these things beforehand...

“Jean, you’ll pretend to be Eren and-“ Erwin was cut off by Jean’s groans.

“Huh? I look nothing like that brat. Clearly I’m far more handsome. They’ll think he suddenly became a model and Eren does not deserve that reputation.” Jean quickly retorted. Despite being crudely cut off, Erwin’s eyes remained weighted and unmoving. The stretch of silence that followed elicited an ugly snort from Conny, earning a poorly contained laugh from Sasha and a silencing glare from Mikasa. Once the punishing eyes moved to Jean, he quickly shut his trap and slunk in his chair, a curse being muttered under his breath. Are these damn brats capable of a single serious meeting? Levi scoffed to himself as Erwin resumed.

“As I was saying,” Jean somehow receded further into himself. “Armin will play Historia.”. Armin nodded, knowing there’s no saying no to the commander in this state. “I’ll lead the distraction as I’m perfectly fine with playing bait. They want me too, but that’s not important.” he went on. At this, Levi's jaw tightened. Not important?! They’ll kill you. What is he-

“Don’t worry, as this will not be for another week. The news of us hiding out won’t get to them for a short while.” Erwin concluded, standing up in his chair. Before he could finish his brief remarks, the scouts eagerly stood to attention. “Very well, that is all for tonight. Get some rest, Scouts. You’ve done good work. If there are any questions, feel free to ask. But for now, seek your sleep.” And with those words of finality, he receded back into his seat, the phantom pains in his arm ebbing and flowing as they usually did. Erwin never talked about it, but Levi could tell when it was bothering the commander. His eyebrows would furrow slightly, followed by a look of realization then poignancy. Whether he really wanted to or not, Levi always noticed these little changes in the man.

Hange let out a big yawn, waiting as everyone else quietly left the room. That is to say, everyone besides Conny, Sasha and Jean, those loud fucks. Levi instantly began mentally reciting what Erwin had previously said. Distraction my ass… Hange kicked up their feet onto the coffee table, expecting the usual post-meeting chat between the three of them. “Eyy I’m pooped, how about a-“

“Hange.” Levi said plainly.

“Eh?”

“Not today.”

“Alright… then why don’t we-“

“Not. Today.” Levi snapped, uncrossing his legs to stand. “Leave.”

Hange rolled their eyes, used to and unthreatened by Levi’s usual ire. “Whatever, I’ll just go party somewhere else then.” They stood too, walking toward the door. “You two buzzkills have a goodnight~!” They sang sweetly before sauntering out in an exaggerated confidence. Levi sighed before going to the door and locking it. Erwin just watched, unamused and unsurprised by his behavior. Levi leaned against the locked door and put his hands on his hips.

“So, a suicide mission? That’s your master plan?” he said coldly, grey eyes meeting blue in an unfriendly gaze. Erwin kept his lips sealed with silence, knowing full well the man across him had a lot more to say. “Tch, silent treatment too? Why don’t you tell me these things? Did you hit your head on the field before losing your arm?” He taunted, attempting to coax the tall man into talking.

Erwin’s eyes darkened just slightly. He really wasn’t in the mood to bicker with Levi. His plan was practically foolproof, Levi just wasn’t thinking rationally. His arm hurt and he longed for a good night's rest, not wanting to be barked at by the man standing across from him. Truthfully, he was tuning most of what he said out. Just let him ramble until he’s satisfied.

Levi stomped his boot on the door, causing it to judder in return. “You’re not even LISTENING. Oi, shit-for-brains, talk to me like a man and stop wallowing in your suicidal self pity. What the fuck are you thinking?”

Erwin took a steady breath, composing himself before finally speaking. “Is this really about the mission, Levi?” He was met with cold icy eyes set in a dead glare. This really isn’t what he wanted to do right now. “Y'know what, nevermind. I don’t wanna hear it tonight.” he dismissed.

Levi was beyond irked. “Eh- what are you even saying? Damn, that titan really did scramble your head. Do I need to spell it out for ya? Write on little cards so you can relearn your ABC’s? Eh?! You’ve gone mad. This is stupid-“

Erwin lifted his hand up to silence him. “You don’t have to agree. By all means, yell at me. But this doesn’t change my plan.” He lowered his hand and looked him in the eyes, his mind tired and begging for rest.

Levi could feel his face darkening into a prominent scowl. “I can’t fuckin’ believe this… Your self righteous fantasies of being the humble hero are clouding your judgement. Pride? Heroism? That’s just some bullshit excuse, Erwin. You aren’t expendable. Killing yourself now isn’t going to help anyone. It’s not going to fix anything.” He spat, poison dripping from each word as his gaze remained locked on target. Erwin eyed him in return, eyes growing darker with each passing second. A tense silence stretched between them.

Levi sighed before starting again.

“We need that damn head of yours if we want to have any chance of a future, so quit being a baby and let’s figure out some other plan.” He reasoned, hoping these words would make his commander understand where this bout of anger came from.

Erwin sat silent for a moment, contemplating his words and filtering them with his usual routine of rationality and logic. What was Levi’s goal here? It is putting his own life in danger, not Levi’s. Unless the issue was that fact itself...

“Levi…” He began calmly, his assuring tone of voice encouraging Levi to calm himself. “I recognize how you feel, but you must see the bigger picture. You need to understand, I am replaceable, Eren and Historia are not.“

Levi instinctively tensed again, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed, and knowing full well he wouldn’t like whatever Erwin would say next. “This mission is above me - above us. It’s our best option. We don’t have the luxury to achieve results without sacrifice, or at least without the risk thereof. I have abandoned many soldiers in the past, and to cower when that chance weighs on myself is unbecoming of a commander. I did not call a meeting tonight to discuss, but rather to inform. This is the plan, Levi. And frankly? I do not wish to speak about it further. That is all.” Erwin languidly finished, his usual punctuality succumbing to a tired dejection.

Levi realized then. He wasn’t speaking to Erwin, the man whom he trusted and dedicated his life to. Levi wasn’t speaking to the one who dragged him out of that shitty dump of a home and into the Survey Corps; He wasn’t here with the man who made badly timed jokes Levi could only roll his eyes at, nor the captain who suddenly took an interest in cleanliness upon Levi’s arrival, nor the friend who kindly lent Levi a shoulder and a warm cup of tea following his squad's extinction. This was not that man. Levi was stood in front of the Commander of the Survey Corps. An artificial hero who’d rid himself of his humanities in the name of freedom, eager to sacrifice what he must for the prosperity of the future. Erwin looked at Levi from behind that old table as if it were a wall of its own, made not for keeping titans out, but for imprisoning the man Levi knew him to be within.

A heroic façade. A selfless demeanor. That is what Erwin has chosen to be.

Bullshit. Absolute fucking BULLSHIT. There are at least a thousand ways out of this mess, why the hell is he so set on risking himself? An unbridled rage swiftly lifted Levi off the back of the door, boots stomping up towards the tired man in front of him. Levi seethed. He won't let Erwin succumb to whatever dumbass funk he seems to be in. He crossed his arms and scowled, voice biting and unsympathetic. “So that’s it then? You’re just going to give up under the ruse of heroism cause you don't feel well? Because you lost your fucking arm to some ugly ass titan?”

Erwin glare was maddening, something that would make any other soul cower in fear, yet it only fueled his own vehemence. He’s not going to let Erwin walk away from this. “Tch. And to think I’d thought so highly of you... Go on then. If this is really what you want, go and die a coward's meaningless death.” The air hung heavy as they stared each other down. Silence, tense uncomfortable silence and shit ok maybe Levi had gone a bit too fa-

BANG. His hand hit the desk hard, the sound of Erwin's arm slamming the old wood echoing harshly off the cold stone walls. He was standing now, chair forgotten and fallen behind him. The look on his face made Levi’s heart catch in his throat, a dry lump forming as Erwin's eyes bore menacingly into him. His small figure felt diminutive as Erwin’s chest heaved with ferocity, before finally cracking with pure fury. “You dare tell me what I can or cannot do with my own life? Who the fuck do you think you are? I am your superior officer before I am your friend and I will not take this shit from you!”

Levi went cold, backing once more into the door as far as he could, gripping the handle for support, or perhaps a possible escape. He’s never seen Erwin snap like this and to see this eruption in him… It petrified him. “Well, now who’s the coward?” He said maddeningly, kicking the discarded chair further into the corner which sent Levi’s fight or flight into overdrive. Erwin towered over him, his hand slamming against the door a good two feet above Levi’s head. When did he get so damn close?

Levi opened his mouth, but could produce no sound. He was scared. This wasn’t Erwin. A primal rage had overtaken him and Levi could see it in the way his eyes oozed with hostility, in the way his astute demeanor had morphed into that of a feral beast’s. Taking a chance, Levi took a breath. “Erwin…” he whispered carefully, like a cornered animal trying to negotiate with its prey. Erwin’s eyes flashed with an indescribable something. He dropped his hand.

“Fuck,” he cursed, putting his hand to his head and wobbling backward before facing Levi again.

“Fuck, Levi, I’m…” he began. Once again, Levi was experiencing a new side of Erwin, a common theme tonight. “You…” He paused, collecting his words and continuing. “You need to understand exactly what it is I’m trying to say. It’s my life and you said it yourself earlier, I’m as good as dead. This arm… How exactly am I supposed to fight like this?” It was barely audible, but Levi picked up a slight crack to his voice. Infuriated Erwin was shocking to see, but this completely foreign vulnerability was something else. The two had been rather close, but nothing quite like this. It was jarring, but not at all bad.

Before Levi could say anything in return, Erwin continued, voice almost hushed and pleading. “Eren is the key to saving humanity and you damn right know it. If I can just lead the charge-“ he was cut off by Levi swiftly grabbing hold of his hand. He didn’t really know what the hell he was doing, some innermost part of him doing the decision making here. The action terrified the both of them, but it was a sign of comfort and that’s all Erwin needed. Besides, it stopped him from spouting more nonsense… So that's good, right?

Noticing the slightest squeeze of his hand in return, Levi found the words he wanted to say. Needed to say. “You know I didn’t mean that. I won’t let you die out there, Erwin. We need you…” his voice grew soft before he carried on. “I need you… So I won’t let you just throw yourself away, dumbass.” Ok now he really didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. The air was stiff as Erwin only stared down at him, and Levi directed his eyes back to the discarded chair. Anything really to distract himself from Erwin’s wide eyed stare. It wasn’t working. Why wasn’t Erwin saying anything? He had made it worse. Fuck.

“I- um I’m I’ll just, I’ll just-“ Levi stammered, earnestly fumbling with the doorknob to leave. Bad choice. Bad night. Time to go. Erwin promptly grabbed Levi’s arm and pulled him closer, until he was flush with the broad surface of his chest. Levi’s face burned due to the proximity, and as Erwin snaked his arm around his middle, his dreaded blush only deepened. Not quite knowing what to do with his hands, he mirrored Erwin’s own actions, enclosing the embrace and- Oh. This is nice. Feeling Levi’s arms wrap around him, Erwin took the initiative to bend down, lowering his head to rest atop Levi’s shoulder.

“I need you too... More than anything” he breathed softly into Levi’s jacket.

Levi had never been one for flattery or sugared words. Lies only beget other lies and Levi valued honesty and definiteness. But this… This was something entirely different. Erwin’s voice was barely above a whisper, purely unguarded and emotive. This wasn’t some false declaration to earn his sympathy, but rather raw feeling, something Levi is not used to having directed at himself.

The tears came before rational thought could beat them, and Erwin deepened the hug in response. The two didn’t say a word as they stood and kept their embrace, never wanting to let go. It was then that he realized Erwin was shaking slightly, tears falling from the man in his arms as well. Levi gripped tighter onto him, his cloak bunching up into his fingers as he held on perhaps harder than need be. Levi wouldn’t normally indulge himself in such juvenile behavior, but he supposed, at least for tonight, he didn’t want to hold himself back.

Erwin’s calloused hand slowly crept its way to Levi’s neck, causing him to shiver. Unsure if this reaction was a positive one, the taller man froze. Levi understood this fearful body language and strengthened the hug, signaling it was ok. Taking this in, Erwin began to rub gentle circles on the back of Levi’s neck, causing him to stir and the fine hairs on his neck to stand. They’ve never touched, not like this. Neither dared to speak, each fearing it would end this blissful spell.

Returning the intimate gesture, Levi began to softly move the palm of his hand along Erwin’s back. Levi wasn’t a touchy-feely person - or, so he thought because being touched like this… He could truly die right here. And that would be ok.

Erwin rotated his head so he was facing the crook of Levi’s neck, and Levi shuddered as he felt Erwin’s hot, shaky breath. This in turn made Erwin nervous. What are we doing? I shouldn’t be-

Levi snaked a hand up to the base of Erwin’s neck and began to tenderly run his fingers through his hair. Erwin took this as complete reassurance that yeah, this was ok. And Levi was ok with it too. Nerves were high as Levi gripped the man’s shirt, wanting to cling to him in silence forever.

Craving his touch, Levi bent his head to face Erwin’s. Erwin noticed the sudden change in movement and opened his eyes to see Levi staring right back at him. He pulled his head back ever so slightly, ensuring he was properly facing Levi. He searched his steel eyes and found only warmth. Still, not a word was said as they got even closer, noses just barely grazing each other before finally-

Unexpectedly, a jarring thud came from outside the door. This was promptly followed by a distant “I’m ok!”. Being so caught up in the moment, Erwin jumped, his heart racing and a mess as he lifted away from Levi. He muttered a curse word before being forced to talk about what just happened between the two men.

Levi just stood there, the sudden lack of intimacy making him realize exactly what had just happened. Feeling damn near faint, he sat on the couch closest to the warm fire and Erwin followed suit, placing his hand on the cushiony surface as he glanced at the visibly nervous Levi.

Erwin reached over and grabbed Levi’s hand causing Levi to meet his gaze. “Is this ok?” He asked gingerly. Levi’s expression softened as he put his other hand on top of his. “Yeah, this is ok”. They sat like that for a moment, deep breaths filling the silence.

“At least let me come with you,” Levi said hurriedly, and Erwin’s eyes grew wide. “Levi…” He began, moving his hand to cup his cheek. Levi leaned into his touch, body settling as he listened to Erwin. “Levi, when have I ever excluded you from a mission? We're doing this together…” he pulled Levi’s face closer to his as Levi put a hand to the man’s chest.

“Together.” Levi repeated before Erwin sealed the space between them with a feather-light kiss, still not wanting to scare the shorter man away. But Levi’s return to the kiss was immediate and desperate, once again wanting to be close to the man he’d admired for years. The man he… Fuck it, the man he loved. Being held like this, being needed like this, needing him in return, it all felt so familiar despite how foreign it really was.

It was like home. Not the putrid and disgustingly cluttered underground, but rather the sentiment of it all. Being in Erwin's embrace, he thought of Farlan and Isabel, his dedication and her compassion. He thought of the ever rowdy scouts, of Hange, of the feeling of Erwin’s lips against his: that was a big one.

Levi wasn’t sure where this mission would take them, or where any of their upcoming escapades would lead them. But he was sure of one thing, as long as he was at this man’s side, his warm eyes meeting his own, he could bear it. No... They could bear it. Erwin pulled away from his lips for what felt like the tenth time this night. Grey eyes met blue, and for the first time in what had felt like years, Levi felt himself fully smiling back.

That night, perched in that dimly lit safe house on a tawny old couch, was theirs and theirs alone, forever to be looked back upon fondly. They were safe. And most importantly, they were each other’s.

“SASHA HOLY SHIT ARE YOU SEEING THIS!”

“CONNY SHUT UP!”

“MMPH!”

And most importantly, Levi had a couple of brats to silence.

#attack on titan #aot #levi #levi ackermann #erwinsmith #eruri #eruri feels #eruri comfort #erwin x levi #levi x erwin #fluff #hurt and comfort #our first ever fic #please be gentle with us #lmao

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enha-woodzies · 3 years

Text

➸ CHAPTER 9 | " THE SPACE BETWEEN US "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

warnings: very mild swearing; brief arguments

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

START OF PARK SUNGHOON'S POV

I stood there at the side, leaning against the arched entrance. I never meant to eavesdrop in the conversation you were having with the firstborn of the Yang family. It piqued my interest upon hearing your troubles and impulsively decided to help you. To pass time, I guess… or to stall my father into giving me his magnificent title of a duke and have me marry some lady I don’t even desire to have.

Without any significant bargain in the offer, I suggested anyway with the thought that maybe this could help me look at myself the way everyone did before I made history with your brother. The physical bruises and scars we both afflicted on each other faded with time, but the torturous memory continues to haunt us. I may look fine around his presence, but he never had the slightest idea of how I curse myself every single night knowing I not only ruined him and his tender affections with Yena, but our budding and steadfast friendship as well.

I was heinous then. But I swear with my whole heart, I don’t ever intend to hurt you now the way I did with your brother. The moment I let myself drown in your alluring gaze under that brightly lit moonlight, I told myself I won’t take another girl for granted. Not just because I owe it to Niki, but because you were the first person who looked at me without judgment despite knowing your brothers detest me with the entirety of their souls.

I’ve been courting you for over a month now and I’m completely aware of the things we’ve agreed upon about the ruse; needless to say, one might catch feelings in the aftermath. I know this was all a show to give Jungwon a headstart for his own game, but why am I gravely pained every time his name slips out of your lips? Why do I keep myself up on most nights thinking about this lingering question of who do you love? Why do I want to hold you even closer to my side every time he looks at us in dismay?

I’ve come to know that I had myself caught in the middle of whatever this is between you and him; that I’m just the fuel to the fire that’s already been there, left neglected within time. But I can’t help but feel like I need to protect you from him; from whatever hurt he might cause you over time. Although I know my place in all of this and where I stand, it still stings thinking that it isn’t in your heart.

Why would it be, anyway? I’m only just a page you couldn’t keep; a filler in your romantic novel who had the part of the villain origin story but couldn’t fight your hopeless hero. Sadly, Jungwon’s five steps ahead of me. So much for telling the ton there was us in the making, but you weren’t even mine to begin with.

Your mother invited me and the Yang family for dinner a sennight ago. She said it was to properly introduce me as your husband-to-be to your family, that includes your lover’s sitting across the table discussing the recent blow from the Daily Tattle, which was, of course, us.

“Jungwon, dear, have you wished your friend, Y/n, luck on her future wedding with the duke-to-be? Need I remind you that she’s going to need some of it from her best friends.” Lady Yang gently nudged her son who was busy tapping his spoon and fork upon the table. “Jungwon here is finally courting someone, have you heard of that, dear? Lady Choi, daughter of the-”

“The ever famous cheese merchant of our city, Viscount Choi, whom without, we wouldn’t be eating this opulent cheese on the table right this very moment.” I finished, which made the two mothers impressively smile in my direction. Realizing how uncomfortable you become at the very slightest mention of Jungwon’s new lover, I figured butting in could end your agony; seeing that your man is stupid enough to not read the situation in front of him. He seemed more occupied with the utensils than your disheartened state.

As predicted, you excused yourself, and it went without saying that Jungwon followed after you as you rushed out the dining hall and out to your garden. Your brothers and his soon left the hall and went with their casual discourse on the parlor, leaving his and your mother exchanging wedding plans with the company of champagne bottles and cheese. I held my head up high as I walked into the library to reflect on matters that kept me wondering at night. Until Niki strode in, with a pocket watch in hand.

“Riki, I’m-”

“Save your breath, Your Grace. You’re going to need it in case you piss the hell out of Jungwon and he lands his knuckles on your pretty face again.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Can’t get your hands dirty for your sister yet you can for Yena?”

“Do not fucking tempt me, Sunghoon.”

“Too bad. I’d love to see you try, though.”

“And I’d love to see your little mouth shut, Your Grace. You’re impressive, but I’m sure you’ve always been told that. For a moment there you really had me thinking you were about to apologize to my brother. Turns out you’re still the coward that you’ve always been.” Jay walked in unannounced, slightly scaring me. He’s like a lion ready to hunt for prey, even though he’d just sit there looking unbothered. I’ve always deemed your eldest brother with veneration. All I did was drop my head low when he threw me those harsh words, though I completely agree as they embody me in so many ways possible. I hate it.

“A wedding, huh? Don’t you think you’re going too far, already? This ruse is nothing but a shame to both our families. Heed me while I’m asking you nicely to end this foolishness you’ve invoked on our sister.”

“Forgive me… but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Fortunately, Niki was quick enough to grab a hold of Jay when he was about to come at me. I must say this now before it’s too late, and better be in front of your brothers than your lover.

“I will take full responsibility for Y/n. I will be a man of worth to her and a word of honor, I will end any future causes of grievances upon us both. I will protect her from it, just as I’m doing now.”

“You’re doing nothing but stall her from her fate with Jungwon!”

“And how do you know she still cares for him? Haven’t you seen the look on your dear sister’s face whenever Jungwon’s name is brought up? Haven’t you seen that man strolling around the town with a fancy girl in hand a week after breaking your sister’s heart? I thought so. But you just want things to go your way. I’ll respect that. For now.”

I dashed out of the library after giving them a piece of my mind. Though I had planned to apologize to Niki, Jay’s words got the best of me. I headed towards the garden to look for you, but before I could have your attention, Jungwon already did.

END OF PARK SUNGHOON’S POV

Jungwon rushed to the garden, following Y/n’s quick pace in an attempt to block out any possible thoughts about her lover. Basking under the bright moonlight, Jungwon grabbed her by the wrist, making her turn and crash against his jabot-clad chest.

“Y/n, please-”

“Really, Jung? God! You totally had me fooled that day when I thought we were having a moment!”

“We did! But-”

“But what? You can’t hold yourself accountable for the things you left me with so you squander your way with another lady? Tough blow, don’t you think?”

“Please, Y/n, I just need you to listen to me and-”

“I’m tired, Jung. All these years, you let me wait for you for five years just to have you run back and hurt me again. I’m tired of you making a fool out of me, and I’m dumb enough to always let you. Because I love you. I love you so much, it fucking hurts. I have so much love for you yet here you are, always welcoming me with fleeting bliss and leaving me with endless torment. But the damage has been done and I’m out. I love you, but I guess I’m going to have to leave it like this.”

“You still do?”

“God! I poured out my heart for you and all you could say was that? Jung, how can you be so dense?! I wouldn’t have let you hold me that day in the forest if I don’t love you! I asked you for a new start but you ran off and a week later you’re traipsing around Northumberland with Lady Choi! Right in front of me!”

“You were with that man that day too, in front of me! You look at him with so much admiration with your hand hanging on his arm. How do you think that made me feel?!”

“More than the damage you did to me? What a load of nonsense, Jung! And here I thought you already knew that Sunghoon and I were just fooling around to get to you.”

“Well, I’m here now, Y/n! I’m all yours now!”

“No, you’re not. You just can’t bear the truth that you lost me to him. At the end of the day, it will always be your pride. It always has been. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m apologizing but I still will. This ends here, Jung. I wish you well.”

The entire time that Y/n and the young lord were arguing out the garden, Jay and Niki were carefully listening from the library’s window; Niki figured it was finally time to spill the truth to his sister.

Niki followed Y/n to her room, taking note of the soft sobs and sniffles she emitted. She turned around when she felt her brother’s footsteps trailing after her.

“Riki…” Niki was suddenly enclosed by Y/n’s tight embrace, dampening his jabot shirt with her tears. He returned the warm hug as he gently rubs her corseted back, feeling the constant huffs from her crying.

“I’m sorry about Jungwon.”

“He doesn’t deserve me.” The lady muffled against her brother’s chest.

“Maybe you’re right. And neither does Sunghoon. Listen, Sister. There’s something I need to get off my chest. Come.” The two entered the lady’s room and Niki carefully shut the door tight, locking it in the process. He sat atop the neatly arranged bed while patting the space next to him, gesturing Y/n to sit closer to his side.

“Jay isn’t happy with the sudden announcement of your engagement, and neither am I. But always know that I will always have your back, just like how you always have mine. I’ve seen how Sunghoon made you smile and laugh like how you used to with Jungwon back in the day. This day feared me but we’re here now, and I must tell you the reason why we’re all against him courting you in the first place.”

“Remember Yena? The girl I told you about in the letters? Sunghoon… he deceived her. He made her cheat against me, fed her with lies, and tricked her into thinking our love was nothing but a hoax. I saw them one day in his father’s garden, I followed them, curious enough to see how he made her happier than when she was with me. Until he kissed her. He took her first kiss when I thought we’d be sharing it with each other. And she kissed him back... like I wasn’t even someone to reckon with. Needless to say, I attacked him. The boys went against him afterward. Jungwon was there too. With all the lies he wired into her brain, Yena never looked at me the same after that day. And the many days that followed. She and Sunghoon just suddenly stopped seeing after the fight that erupted between us.”

“The thing was, sister, Sunghoon never loved her. He was young and didn’t want to let the opportunity pass, that’s what he told us when I had his collar by my clutch. That was the only excuse he could ever give us. The asshole that he is.” Niki clicks his tongue while dropping his head low, gaze fixed on the carpeted area on the floor across them. “Fuck. I would still have Yena if he didn’t try to treat things like we were playing a game of who could get the girl first. Thinking about the time he wasted on nothing genuine, Yena could have spent it on me instead and I would have had her here, introduced to Mother and the ton.”

Y/n placed a hand on her brother’s closed, shaky fists. Niki let out soft sniffles, trying his best to keep himself from cracking. “I’m sorry, Riki, I didn’t know. He told me it was all in the past and that he desires to make amends now.” Niki jerks up, eyes fixed on his sister’s eyes. “You’ve only heard his point of view, you never heard mine. Sunghoon’s made a whole record in university, Y/n. He goes around the grounds breaking hearts like he owns them. Girls would swoon over him and he would gladly oblige. What an ambitious, cunning little prick. And now he has you wrapped around his fingers, the same way he did to Yena.”

“I’m sure he means no harm now, brother. He’s been nothing but kind and gentle to me. He makes me utterly happy; the part of my romantic story where I used to want Jungwon to be consistent of.”

“You know, I’ve always been considerate of your choices and aspirations, sister. But I will not lose you to Sunghoon like this. I’m afraid Jay and I will have to be very uptight with you seeing him from now on. I’m sure by now you’ve come to understand why Jungwon’s scared of surrendering you to him. He means well, sis, Jungwon…”

“I will not settle for someone whom I have to spend a lifetime second-guessing whether he wants me in his life or not.”

“But he’s been missing you a lot lately, hasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid him missing me is far too different from him wanting to marry me.”

Niki only sighs before planting a soft kiss on his sister’s temple and fixing his fit to present himself back to the lobby. Y/n was left in her room, fidgeting with her fingers while anxiously biting her bottom lip in deep contemplation.

Sunghoon may have stolen her attention from Jungwon, but she had to admit, she never regretted it. She has felt safe with Sunghoon the past months they’ve been together. Jungwon did nothing but torture her constantly with every chance he got. Although they hadn’t been sticking around their ruse’s ground rules lately, she feared the time between her and Sunghoon would be up soon and she wouldn’t feel his comforting presence around her anymore.

Sunghoon may have gotten her used to their dilly-dallying that time apart from each other could make her feel miserable. Not to mention the embarrassment that would come with it considering she is foretold to be Northumberland’s next duchess after all.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

#kpopscape #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #neothestars #of lords & mischiefs #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen series #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #iland daniel

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snackhobi · 4 years

Text

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn.

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision.

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better.

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting.

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time.

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze.

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would.

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer.

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp.

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before.

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth.

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away.

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic.

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say.

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later.

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast.

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you.

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting.

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter.

“That’s for certain,” she says.

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty.

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again.

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too.

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps.

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob.

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

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beastenraged · 2 years

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I Think, Therefore I Am (Me)

(Here it is, finally! :D :D :D @hallowed-nebulae )

“And why should I not know? Reincarnation is a skin worn well on both yourself and Ven. Even if the process is different for both.”

Ira’s words ring through my head. Never leaving no matter what.

Agh, I hate Foretellers. Interfering with...I dunno, my perfectly messy life that I have going on here. The calm before everything goes to Plot Hell. It doesn’t matter that I remember a past life or not, really. No matter what he says.

I almost want to punch him, I’m so pissed. But I’m also not that stupid, so I won’t. I’ll just run from him instead. A coward like I am with everything else in my life.

(I don’t care what he said, I’m a coward down to the bones. Being forced to tell a truth among many lies doesn’t make me brave.)

I want to think about Ven and what he/they said about alters because that’s really interesting, a fact of people and real life I hadn’t know about before now and will be good for later. But I’m too distracted trying to fight back the doubts about what they’ll be thinking about me.

“What he talked about is true, then? You were someone else before being Ruse?” Xion’s question is quiet. Barely hearable.

I pause. I nod from my place on the bed of the room we share. “Yeah. That’s true. What do you want to know?”

Because this is Xion, and from the start I’ve answered her questions truthfully. No matter the topic. I wait. She doesn’t disappoint.

“What was it like?”

“Huh.” I tap my head against my bed. “Well. Normal, I guess. That person didn’t know anyone that could do magic or had a Keyblade.”

Xion thinks on this. “That person?”

“Oh right. Well, I see the person before as someone different. I’m Ruse and that person is not. Her name was...” I swallow. “Her name was Harper. And she had a younger sister and went to a college and...did so many things.”

Xion’s purple eyes glow at me in the dark. “Do you think...she would have liked me? Or just to meet me.”

Oh. I almost laugh, but this is a serious question.

“Xion,” I say, “She would have loved you.”

Did love you, in fact. Year of Xion and all that, years of quietly having Xion be her favorite of the Sea Salt Trio. Yes, Harper loved you, Xion. And maybe that lingers on in me. Isn’t that funny to think about?

What a thought to go to sleep to.

Breakfast is a quiet affair. Mostly because I’m trying to figure out what to say. Terra cooked and it’s delicious.

Once the meal’s done and Even’s out, I try to find my words. For my audience.

“Sooo...” I tap my fingers on the table between us. “What do you guys want to know?”

Vanitas, unsurprisingly, speaks first. They’re daring like that. “Why’d you lie about it? Is it safer that way?” Yellow eyes gleam with...some heavy emotion. “Or is that all you know how to do, lie?”

Terra narrows his eyes at them. “Vanitas,” he says warningly.

I can’t help but laugh a little at that. Shocking everyone else, I think. Just a little. Except for Ira, who’s as emotionlessly (annoyingly) passive as always in his observation. My grin is wide enough to make my cheeks ache.

“I guess I just don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want people expecting things from that past self. Plus, it’s kind of an edge?” I shrug, lean back a bit. “People don’t expect either a preteen or a three year old Replica to know as much as they do, so they get careless. And I win.”

The alternate Xehanort seems thoughtful, but I focus mostly on Vanitas. Wanna see how they react to that answer.

Vanitas grins back at that, seemingly approving of that reasoning. “Hell yeah.”

“You’re only...three.” Terra sighs, dropping his face into a hand. “Of course you are.”

I squint at him. “You gonna do something about that?”

Ven growls across from me, sensing my ire. I stick my tongue out at him because whatever, I know that he slit my tendon over Terra last time. But I’m not being mean this time. I’m just...preparing.

“...if I do anything that ever makes you uncomfortable, just tell me and I’ll stop,” Terra says. Completely serious.

Uh, what. Okay? I stare at him and nod. Once. “Thanks. That’s very nice of you.”

Ven speaks up, forehead crinkled in thought. “Are you Harper, or did she break apart to make you?”

Huh? “You’ll have to clarify that, sorry.” Probably something to do with alters, it’ll be good to be careful and clear just in case. Don’t want to screw this up.

He hums quietly. Picking out words. “Once there was a person named Ana. But Ana broke apart to become Simon and Jasn and so many others. But...”

He looks down at his hands. His clawed grey hands. “Only Simon was left. And Simon became...Ven.”

“With other alters,” he clarifies, “but not the same as before, because they were their own people and now they’re...gone.”

Oh. Oh. Gone, huh? And there’s no return for them.

“Thank you,” I manage. Because that’s pretty personal, and I feel kind of bad for not sharing about myself before. Even if that’s stupid because I know Ven doesn’t expect anything like that from me, they’re too nice like that.

“Well. I guess Harper broke apart to be ‘me,’ that’s the best way of putting it. I have pieces of what she likes, but I have my own likes different from hers,” I explain. Like Harper would never eat rocks...and that’s sad for being the first example to come to mind.

Ven looks thoughtful. Or tired. Or maybe both. Hopes that helps?

“How do you know that you’re different from Harper in the first place?” Xehanort asks me. Very seriously, silver eyes hanging on me like the I have the answer to the world’s questions. And I don’t know, maybe in this case I do.

Hm. I trace one finger along the edges of my scars. When did I know? That’s something I’ve never really...considered beyond the surface before, just that I knew we were different the moment I found out about her.

But that instinct won’t help this kid, who thinks far too much in comparison about her identity. At least to me. Like with Xion, begging not to be Sora but thinking she had to be. Or Rook with Riku.

Wait. Rook with Riku. That kind of explains my thoughts, doesn’t it?

“Well, it’s kind of what I told Ven. I’m me because I have my own likes that I know Harper didn’t. I’m not Harper because I have different experiences from her. I’m different from her because I want to be.” I pause.

Say a little more quietly at Xehanort’s kind of shocked face. “You know it’s okay for you to be what you want to be, instead of what someone else wants. People wanted me to be Riku, but I could never be. Xion could never be Sora.”

I swallow. So very aware of all the eyes on me, from both the people asking questions and people who aren’t like Xion or Ira the unicorn dude.

“It’s okay to be yourself, Xehanort.” I reach out, withdraw my hand before I can touch her shoulder. Don’t know if she’ll go for touching or not. I smile. “You have my permission, even, if that matters.”

Xehanort looks away, but not before I catch watery grey eyes. Ducks into Ira’s cloak-thingy, that he holds out with his arm. He looks at me carefully. Meaning something, I don’t know what.

“Do you mean any harm to my Vessel?” Ira asks me in the most serious way ever. Also kind of like he already knows the answer to that question, what?

I stare back at him. Adults shouldn’t be this confusing, Harper was an adult once and she kind of passed that down to me. Didn’t she?

“No?” I hazard. I have no idea what that really means, but I can guess from context it’s probably related to Xehanort in some way. Since the unicorn man showed up for her and all. “I’m only trying to help.”

“I see.” He nods and I feel like he’s...measuring me in some way? Like Even does sometimes and I don’t like that comparison at all, how uncomfortable.

...I better not be getting another attempted caretaker here, that’s all I’m saying!

#tempests verse #tell me verse #kh ficlet #my kh fic #oc ruse #storm whispers au #tried to be mindful hope this is good! :D #the question and answer session you've all been waiting for!

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eggtoasties · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro drabbles #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kuroo imagine #kuroo fanfic #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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bts-hyperfixation · 3 years

Note

Taehyung, 2, 21, 27. Preferably a Smut with some angst and surprise me with the scenario. Could it be a mafia au?

Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year – 18+

Taehyung Mafia AU

Warnings: Anal play, definitely some unclean sex practices, unsafe sex, mentions of death threats

I am so sorry about how late this is!

“Look baby, I already said I’m sorry I’m not going to be home for Christmas.” Tae sighed rubbing his temples as you refused to turn back to face him. You’d been fighting over this for a while now.

“It’s not that you won’t be home for Christmas Tae. It’s that you won’t be back for your Birthday or New Years either and I’m sick of it!” you finally deign to look at him. It’s clear he is close to snapping at you, but you are tired of the shit. You knew it was going to be hard to be with him, especially after you found out what he really did for a living, but you weren’t going to let this one go. This year alone he had missed: valentine’s day, your graduation, your birthday, his mother’s birthday, and Halloween, and you would be damned if he missed the next three holidays as well.

“You know damn well there is nothing I can do about this Y/N! You need to just drop it.” He huffs fixing you with his most intimidating stare. Unfortunately for him, you became immune to that look a long time ago. He was scary man to everyone else, but to you he would always be a teddy bear. It was long established he would never hurt you. You just stared right back. Your own evil glare far more threatening.

“I bet you could do something. You’ve never even tried! You are at his beck and call regardless of the day or time. I bet if we ever actually got round to setting a wedding date, he would call you away from the alter and you’d just fucking go.” Something akin to hurt flashes across his face but you don’t stop. “Namjoon cannot be your be-all and end-all Tae, one day you are going to have to be a big boy and make a decision for yourself.”

“What do you want me to do Jagi? Do you want me to let Namjoon shoot me for not being there? He will you know, shoot me dead, or worse you. Look I was a stupid kid when I entered into this, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m in. Namjoon calls I answer, or I die. That’s it no grey area.” His gaze softens when he sees the panic in your eyes, tears welling in the corners. The thought of Taehyung turning up dead because of you too much to handle. He reaches out his arms for you and you slot yourself in. You take a minute to inhale him, burying you nose into his jacket.

“I just miss you Tae.” Your voice muffled by his suit. He holds you tighter to him and kisses your head. He moves one hand to smooth down your hair.

“I know Y/N-ah I miss you too, but we have tonight so let’s make the most of it.”

A short while later you are wrapped up on the sofa. Taehyungs arm is wrapped lazily around your shoulder as you lean into him, trying to forget that he won’t be there in the morning. The hours tick by and episodes of the show on the tv keep ending. The two of you are fast asleep in one another’s arms. By the time you wake up the world is way too bright. You squint your eyes to look out the floor-length patio window.

“Tae… Taehyung wake up!” you tap at his arm panicked as he grumbles for you to leave him be ‘just a little longer’ “Kim Taehyung wake your ass up. I think we are snowed in…” his eyes snap open at that. Fear registering on his face when he sees the two feet of snow that was still growing. He glances at his phone.

*3 missed calls Namjoon*

NJ: Where are you?

NJ: You’re late

NJ: Don’t make me take away your little toy to regain your attention.

NJ: Kim Taehyung if you do not respond to me, I will be forced to take matters into my own hands. DON’T make me.

He hides the screen from you a little too late. Bile rises in your throat, but he sends you a reassuring look as he rings back Bangtan’s leader.

“This better be good.” You hear through the receiver.

“Hyung, I’m sorry I’m not there. It appears I’m snowed in. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to figure a way out. The windows are too protected and the doors all open outward. It appears we did too good a job fortressing my home from others that even I can’t get around it.” You hear a low grumble come from side of the phone as Taehyung’s boss considers the excuse.

“I can’t spare anyone to bail you out… as soon as your free make your way here… I’ll be checking in.” with that the line goes dead. You both let out a breath in relief and settle back into the warmth of one another.

“Looks like I’ll be home for Christmas after all.” Taehyung says trying to break the silence.

“Guess I’ll have to think of a present to give you now…” you joke, untangling yourself from him and the blanket. You sway your hips a little too much as you move away.

“I think you might be my present.” He licks his lips as he stares at your bum.

“I don’t know? Shouldn’t you be looking for a way back to your Joonie?” you tease bending over more than necessary to pick something up off of the floor.

“Looking at the snow, I just don’t think there is anyway for me to possibly escape until after my birthday… New Years even?” he makes a big show out of being disappointed, but he can’t stop the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

“No, no, you should at least try.” You turn back to face him, batting your eyelashes in the most overexaggerated way you could. Your arms pull in a little to accentuate your cleavage.

“Keep doing that and your gonna end on the naughty list.” He growls, abandoning his ruse mush quicker than you.

“I don’t know what you mean baby. You really really should try to get back to Namjoon, I imagine Bangtan’s entire operation is going to shit with out you.” You casually check your nails, attempting to look bored.

“I just got handed a get out of jail free card. I’m going to use it.” He fireman lifts you off the floor and spanks your arse. You squeal and wriggle but its no use. He throws you on to the bed, barely giving you a moment to recover before he is discarding his shirt and straddling you. His mouth latches on to your throat leaving blooms of purple all over the exposed skin. He is ruthless in his marking, needing the world to know that you are his, even if that world will only be you and him until the snow melts.

You whine as he nibbles at the most sensitive area of skin right below your ear. You can feel his satisfied smirk against your skin.

“Still want me to try to get back to work?” he teases. You just wrap your hands in his hair and pull his mouth to yours. Tugging at his curls, you don’t let him go until you can’t breathe anymore. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you missed him. it’d been a long time since the two of you had been intimate. He hovers above you for a moment. His signature boxy grin plastered on his face. He takes all of you in. Hair splayed underneath you, blush colouring your cheeks, lips plump from the kiss. Perfect. Perfect and his.

“What?” you can’t read what he is thinking. Having gone from full on to heart-eyes in a matter of seconds has you extremely confused.

“Let’s set a date. I’ll tell Namjoon to go fuck himself, just pick a day and I’m all yours.” He nuzzles back into you waiting for an answer.

“May, just as the weather gets better.”

“Deal.” His lips return to yours, this time it’s much softer. All his love for you going into this one kiss. “Now let me ruin you.” He pulls at the hem of your t-shirt, dissatisfied when it doesn’t immediately come off. He rips it away instead. You pout a little at the loss of a good shirt, but he draws your attention back quickly. Hot opened mouth kisses trail up your stomach from your navel to your bare chest. His tongue circled one of your nipples, flicking the sensitive bud until its standing at attention. He tweaks it between his fingers making you grimace at the pleasurable pain.

“Please Tae…” you moan

“Please what jagi? How am I supposed to know what you want if you don’t tell me.” His feigned innocence dripping in his tone.

“Please Tae I need you.”

“Need me where?” he is practically laughing at how desperate you sound.

“I need you to shove your tongue so far inside of me I see stars.” Not a man to need to be told twice he dives straight between your legs. He makes quick work of your pants and underwear. You bend your legs and angle your hips towards him. You can feel the vibrations of his laugh flutter against you as he brings his lips to your core licking up your arousal before setting to work. He wraps and arm over your hips to stop you from writhing underneath his touch. So sensitive from not having his touch in so long. You cant help the jolt as his tongue slips from between your folds to between your cheeks, playing with the tight ring of muscles there.

“Tae” you try to make it sound like a warning, but it comes out more of a whine.

“You said you needed my tongue inside of you. You didn’t say where inside of you. You need to be more specific with your wording baby.” He doesn’t give you chance to respond before pushing into your hole. You keen at the sensation. The arm that was holding onto your waist makes its way to your clit, rubbing lazy circles in the opposite direction. He keeps the pressure just like that for a little while, lulling you into a false sense of security. You settle down and enjoy the lazy pleasure. You should’ve known better. Once your guard is down, two of the fingers from his free hand thrust inside of you. He curls his fingers, immediately finding the most vulnerable part of you. He takes his tongue away from you so he can watch as your face crumples in pleasure.

The orgasm that had been slowly building in the pit of your stomach is suddenly about to be ripped out of you. Your back arches as another finger stretches you out, inching you over the edge. His tongue returns between your cheeks as you ride out your high, pushing yourself down on the fingers he has left inside of you.

“God, I hope this snow never melts.” You pant

“Me too,” he tries to move back up and kiss you, but you push his face away.

“Oh hell no, you need to go brush your teeth before we go for round two. Next time warn a girl before you do that.” You laugh as he grumbles climbing off of you with an evident tent in his slacks. He shuffles fake dejected into the bathroom.

Masterlist

Christmas stories 🎄

#bts fic #bts imagines #bts smut #taehyung smut #tae x reader #v smut #taehyung x reader #bts mafia #bts mafia au #happy birthday taehyung #Taehyung #kim taehyung smut #kim taehyung

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sparkandwolf · 3 years

Text

I Can’t Even Drink Champagne (read on ao3)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale Rating: General Summary: You never said sorry, I guess you forgot. Or maybe you’re not sorry at all.

At least, Stiles wanted to believe that. Derek was chatting with people Stiles knew he could care less about and ignoring every glance that Stiles sent his way. Maybe he had read their relationship all wrong. He had thought that their fire, the spark they had between them, meant they were worth fighting for, but maybe Stiles was just as much of a fool as Derek had accused him of being. Maybe he should take one of the offered hands and run away forever without giving a second thought to Derek Hale.

(Or, the Bridgerton Musical Songfic no one asked for.)

For @sterekvalentineweek day five and seven: Champagne & Fate

What a beautiful party, I’m looking up at the ceiling a lot. The chandelier is so sparkly.

Stiles stared up at the intricate details etched into the ceiling, ignoring the pang in his heart that hadn’t seemed to disappear since the last time he laid his eyes on Derek. The last time they had truly spoken had been to fight. It was the only way they had been able to communicate since their ruse had ended. He thought back to the game they played on the townspeople and felt his chest tightening. It was never in the plan to fall for Derek but he was powerless against it once it had started.

They had spent weeks under the guise of courting; the famous Bachelor of Beacon Hills that would never take a mate and the son of the most well-respected consort the royal family had ever seen. Stiles was grateful to have someone like Derek on his side. He trusted the plan and in the end, had some of the most eligible men in the country fighting for his hand. But Stiles didn’t want any of them even when he had felt Derek pulling away.

When it was time to stop their ruse and for Stiles to choose a real mate, neither of them had wanted their plan to end. It didn’t matter to Stiles that Derek wasn’t always honest or shirked around the truth of his past. Stiles didn’t care about living a little differently than he intended if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life with Derek. He thought Derek had understood that as well, but all he ever did was fight. Derek’s first instinct was to argue, to berate, but Stiles knew that wasn’t who he wanted to be.

You never said sorry, I guess you forgot. Or maybe you’re not sorry at all.

What a beautiful evening. I want to know just what the hell are you drinking?

Stiles couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering to Derek with every passing moment. Even through the chatter and laughter the echoed through the open space, Stiles was all too aware of the sounds that belonged to Derek; the husky tone of his low voice, the way he cleared his throat when he was anxious, the exasperated sighs that were like music to Stiles’ ears as he rejected yet another offer of courtship.

Derek sipped on his flute filled with bubbles that seemed to stay on his lips, only disappearing when his tongue would slide out and pull them into his mouth. Stiles was mesmerized by everything Derek was and did, and Derek just stood there as if Stiles didn’t even exist.

Stoic, emotionless, over us all so quickly. What am I missing?

“Are you okay, Stiles?” His father’s voice knocked him from his thoughts as he tried to figure out what game Derek was playing at. Stiles was stewing in his mind and Derek was wandering around the room as if he owned the place, as if his heart wasn’t shattered into a million pieces as Stiles still continued picking up the remains of his own.

“I just want this party to be over,” Stiles admitted, leaning into the way his father squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. “I’m sorry that I--”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. You’re in love with Derek and if I could, I would kill him for making you have the look in your eyes that you have right now,” his father stated, narrowing his eyes over Stiles’ head. Stiles had known that Derek was behind him. He started to avoid looking at Derek’s face in hopes that his pulse would slow down and his stomach would stop leaping in hope whenever their eyes almost met, but that meant knowing where he was at every moment.

“Derek is not the only one to blame. You taught me how to be a man and I let all your lessons go to waste,” Stiles challenged as he rested his palm over his father’s hand, removing it so he could reach for a glass of champagne on the nearest table.

“I taught you to follow your heart and you did that. I’m proud of you, son,” his father stated, leaning to catch Stiles’ gaze so his son could see just how true the words were. Stiles held up the flute to his lips and nodded just as his father was pulled away by someone else.

I can’t even drink champagne without seeing your face.

Stiles gazed into the slim glass, attempting to lose himself in the way the liquid bubbled and fizzed, but all he could see was Derek. The reflection of Derek’s smile as he faked a chuckle that Stiles could easily discern from his real laugh, the way Derek’s eyes glanced around the room before they settled on him. He had thought Derek wasn’t looking at him, but in actuality, Stiles just hadn’t noticed the way Derek’s eyes bore into the back of his head or the way his gaze seemed pulled by some magnetic force of fate to always land on Stiles when he smiled.

Stiles could work with that.

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

What a terrible soiree. With terrible people pretending they’re happy in this masquerade.

There was no way that everyone in that room had been as joyful as their fake smiles and childish giggles had let on. Derek knew for a fact that the town wasn’t as perfect as everyone seemed to pretend it to be and events like the one he was forced to attend just made it that much more real to him. When he finally forced himself to glance over at Stiles, the wide smile on his face made Derek’s heart skip a beat. He couldn’t be sure that Stiles was pretending to be happy. He wasn’t positive that he ever made Stiles happier with their ruse and that fact tortured him every day since the last they had spoken.

The ruse had been Derek’s idea, that much was true, but he never expected it to go out of his control. He saw Stiles, eager to please and find a mate to make his father proud, and thought it would be a flawless idea. He could make nerdy, talkative, overly enthusiastic, and quite spastic Stiles look like the perfect catch and keep his uncle off his back by obtaining the perfect mate to restore the family name. It made perfect sense, at the time.

He never expected Stiles to be his perfect mate. Stiles made his heart burst in a way no one had before, made him feel secure and worth something when all he had ever felt was rejection and unease. Stiles would smile at him and tease him and talk circles around him and Derek made the choice to continue their ruse no matter how much his mind cautioned him against it.

We go through the motions when all that we wish is escape, from the choices we make.

There Stiles was, catching the eye of every eligible person in the room, and all Derek wanted to do was run. He had Stiles in his grasp and he let him escape. He got to know Stiles deeper than he had bothered to with anyone before and let Stiles in further than he had expected. He gave Stiles the chance to escape and he stayed. He gave Stiles the chance to run away and he just danced closer as if the thought had never occurred to him. What was Derek to do other than push him away?

They were too close, too far removed from their initial ruse to think clearly and Derek did what any reasonable person would have done. He picked at Stiles’ insecurities and made his own blatantly clear in order to push Stiles to rush away. Yet he still stayed and Derek had to remind him that what they had was a game. It was a game they had both played to the finish. He wasn’t going to allow himself to hurt or be hurt by Stiles and it left him broken inside.

And I see him smiling. How can he be smiling? There’s been no reconciling. And when he’s in my focus, he won’t even notice my gaze.

To see him smiling was too much for Derek even after a few short minutes. He took his time wandering around the broad expanse of the decorative room, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to gravitate toward Stiles with every move he made. He shook his head to rid himself of the thought of Stiles, but he couldn’t shake off the way Stiles’ smile seemed just as bright as it always had.

Derek didn’t want him to be upset or sad, but maybe just a little bit as broken as Derek had felt the last few days. Was it so easy for Stiles to toss aside what had started as a ruse but turned into so much more? Derek had thought he had done the right thing in ending their game before it could get too out of hand, but there was a part of him that had thought Stiles was just as far gone as him.

Derek thought that tossing the ruse aside would mean that their real feelings could be expressed, but his plan had backfired the minute he let Stiles out of his grasp. How could he have been so stupid to pretend that someone like Stiles wouldn’t move on easily and ignore the emotions that Derek thought were so evident on his face?

Without even trying, his gaze settled on Stiles once again. His stunning face reflected off of the bubbles fizzing in the champagne flute he held up to his lips, slowly draining the liquid down his throat. Even a reflection of Stiles was enough to have Derek’s heart racing and his hand fisting as he resisted the urge to reach out and pull Stiles close to him again.

How can he be okay? When I can’t even drink champagne without seeing your face.

Derek downed his glass of champagne just in time for an arm to slide through him and he jumped at the touch.

“Care for a dance, Derek?” At the casual use of his name, he glanced over at the figure pulling him toward the dance floor and was happy to see his sister on his arm. “You look like you’re about to drink the entire bar or go punch someone in the face,” Laura noted, patting Derek gently on the cheek with her perfectly manicured hand.

“I guess either of those are possible at the moment,” Derek muttered, swirling his sister around if only to avoid seeing Stiles wrapped around another man. The music was slow and swelling and Derek’s heart beat to bursting at the fact Stiles wasn’t the one in his arms.

“Why don’t you just ask him to dance, Derek?” Laura asked innocently, taking control of the dance so she could twirl them around and Derek could face Stiles. He closed his eyes but he couldn’t dodge the sight of the hand resting on the small of Stiles’ back or the way Stiles’ feet moved perfectly with the beat. Derek loved dancing with Stiles which said a lot because Derek was never one to dance.

“I can’t do that, Laura,” Derek argued because he truly couldn’t. At the beginning of he and Stiles’ agreement, they said that when it was over, it was over. Stiles was dancing happily with a potential suitor and Derek was being held up from rock bottom by his sister. It wasn’t where he had expected to be that night, but it was where he would end up.

Am I the one to blame when we’re dancing in the same room, but you’re an ocean away?

But apparently, Laura didn’t like that answer. At the change of tempo, Laura pushed him in Stiles’ direction and grabbed the person that was wrapped around Stiles. As Stiles started to fall, Derek was there to catch him. He pulled Stiles upright and Laura booted them into position as they continued their dance. Stiles looked everywhere but Derek’s eyes and Derek had to ignore the way his stomach trembled or embarrass himself more horribly than he already had.

“I didn’t ask her to do that,” Derek explained. His hand hovered over Stiles’ back, unsure if he could touch Stiles again without repercussions, but Stiles’ hand fitted into his more securely and he figured they could at least get through the dance.

“Of course not. It would be such a hardship to dance with someone you could care less about,” Stiles retorted, still avoiding Derek’s gaze.

“You know how much I hate danc--” Derek froze, tripping over his feet at what Stiles had practically spat. “You think I don’t care about you?” Derek asked incredulously. His eyes widened as Stiles glanced up at him with a glare which told Derek that was exactly what Stiles was thinking.

“You ended our rela-- our ruse and have spent the entire evening joyfully to yourself and actively avoiding me. It’s pretty damn obvious,” Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes and staring up at the ceiling as Derek had seen him do many times that night.

“I’m avoiding you because you obviously don’t feel the same about me as I do you,” Derek argued, pulling Stiles closer as the tempo of the music sped up. They twirled around the dance floor, too focused on each other to realize that everyone in the room had formed a circle around them.

“What are you talking about?” Stiles whispered as he tightened his grip on Derek’s shoulder. His nails dug into Derek’s skin but he couldn’t bring himself to care with Stiles so close again.

“I ended the ruse because I fell in love with you,” Derek blurted before he could change his mind. He had danced around his feelings for too many days to not be honest with Stiles then, when he might not have another chance.

“You told me that we couldn’t be together anymore and I thought--”

“You thought wrong, Stiles. I told you the ruse had to end because we didn’t need it anymore. I thought I was clear when I said that I cared for you,” Derek choked out as Stiles’ hand moved to his face, holding his cheek so gently Derek had to hold his breath to stay focused on the task at hand.

“You weren’t. You never are, Derek, but it’s one of the things I love about you,” Stiles whispered, leaning forward to rest their foreheads together as the music faded into a soft, dull beat. They stood still, staring into each other’s eyes as if waiting for the other to make the final move.

“Our ruse may have ended, but I don’t want to pretend I’m not in love with you anymore,” Derek admitted, shaking his head before relenting to what his heart wanted and finally pressing his lips to Stiles’. He felt Stiles’ sharp intake of breath and was almost scared he had done something wrong once more, but Stiles’ fingers threaded through his hair and they kissed as passionately as they always had.

When Derek finally convinced himself to pull back, his lips tasted of champagne and Stiles no longer felt so far away. The crowd applauded around them and he finally felt as though fate had gotten her way. And so had he.

#sterek #sterekvalentineweek2021 #stiles stilinski #derek hale #bridgerton #derek x stiles #stiles x derek #my writing #sterek fic #i cant believe i did it a;lksdjfl;aksdjfas #i literally woke up with this crossover in my mind #and i couldnt get rid of it #so here yall are asdlkjfal;kdjsflk;as #i hope you enjoy it 😅

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nakunakunomi · 4 years

Note

I’d like to request a headcannon for Zoro, Law, and Shanks with an female S/O they hear sing for the first time. Thanks! 😁

Ohhhh I like this idea a lot!! I am going to go ahead and assume s/o can actually sing (.❛ ᴗ ❛.). 3 top tier bois, I hope you enjoy these!

Hearing s/o sing for the first time HC - Zoro, Law, Shanks

female reader. 2nd person. There is some slight suggestive language in Shanks bit. I couldn’t help it. Sorry.

Zoro

You sang for one member of the crew and for that member only. And that was Chopper.

You liked brushing him whenever he was in his most deer-like form, and he liked the attention, the soft pets. You were usually very focussed while taking care of his fur, humming softly and sometimes even singing.

Chopper absolutely loved it and even sometimes requested you sing for him when he was working or about to go sleep. It worked calming on him and improved his focus. You agreed, on the condition that no one else of the crew would be hearing. Luckily the infirmary was usually pretty quiet and none of the crew ever asked about it.

Not even your boyfriend Zoro, who was mostly napping on deck whenever you were spending these tender moments with Chopper, although he too cherished the little reindeer and became more and more insistent on joining every now and then.

Mostly you got him to back off with the excuse that Zoro was about as delicate as volcano rocks and as careful as an actual gorilla and thus probably not the best person to help Chopper with his medical equipment.

Zoro found out when Chopper and you lost track of time and your boyfriend wanted to get the two of you for dinner and he heard you singing through the door. He stood there for so long, completely mesmerized that he nearly got the door slammed into his face when Chopper's excellent nose helped him deduce that it was dinner time and the two of you were on your way, you still softly humming the end of your song.

"Zoro?? What are you doing here??" He had only just managed to jump away just in time and let out a semi-annoyed yell instead of really answering your question.

“Just wanted to get you for dinner”

You let out a soft ‘oh’, wondering just how long he stood there. But he didn’t say anything about your singing so you figured it couldn’t have been too long.

Until that night, when you actually went to bed for naps, when he very uncharacteristically, and yet, so bluntly very much like himself turned to you and simply spoke “sing”

“excuse me”

“I heard you sing for Chopper. It’s nice. Calming. Will help me sleep”

“As if you need help sleeping”, but you smiled, he had given you some kind of compliment, and didn’t think it was something stupid or useful.

You sang a soft lullaby, and you saw the smallest smile on his face as he fell asleep before you could even finish it.

You pecked his cheek. “Goodnight Zoro”

Law

Law had heard you humming before, usually when you were helping him with sanitizing tools in the infirmary or some other job where you did mostly routine work, so you let your mind drift off just a little bit as you hummed some of your favorite melodies.

He could hear already that you had a beautiful voice but didn't want to comment on it. Every time you caught yourself you'd stop, cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment, he could only wonder how you'd react if he were the one saying something about it.

He hears you sing, actually sing for the first time on a day that most of the crew is on deck. The polar tang has surfaced for a while, and everyone is on deck enjoying some of that good fresh air. You're still inside, making use of the peace and quiet to clean the kitchen that is otherwise never empty, and singing one of your favorite songs as you're doing dishes, putting things neatly back in cupboards and such.

It's an upbeat song, and you're making yourself happier and more enthusiastic as you're dancing along to the tunes yourself, dancing from one spot in the room to the other as you can see the kitchen slowly become spotless.

You're wetting a sponge to give the counters a good scrubbing when you're hitting some particular difficult high notes, nearly breaking your song for being proud of yourself that you hit those so nicely. You almost feel bad that there's no audience.

You turn around to get to another counter, and there your captain -and boyfriend- is staring at you, a lazy yet sly smirk on his face. You chuck the sponge at him but he catches it with ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you were right there?? How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to hear you belting out those good notes. You were getting kind of loud, I'd be surprised if the crew heard nothing at all."

"It's perfectly insulated and soundproof here. They shouldn't have, you just came by to sneak up on me."

He just let out a chuckle, enjoying you being embarrassed a little too much. You were awkwardly standing now that the sponge you needed to conclude your work was in Law's hands. He saw you looking and threw it back.

He grabbed a chair and sat at the dinner table while you continued your cleaning, this time in silence.

"No no no. Please. Continue."

Shanks

Shank’s crew is singing all the time, especially when drinking, it’s one shanty after the other. The whole crew sings along, and when you’re singing as a group, no matter how drunk or tone deaf the crew is, it always sounds good. You manage to softly sing along, and no one ever hears your voice, it was the perfect ruse for you to be able to sing without anyone every questioning you, your voice and the way you sang.

What you did not notice, was that this time, your captain and boyfriend of a few years, had been drunkenly trying to lean in for kisses, and in doing so,had captured some snippets of your beautiful voice.

Encouraged by sake and his love, he managed to drag you off to a place a little more quiet, away from the party and you were thoroughly confused, he never left a party early.

“What’s wrong Shanks?”

“I’ve heard you talk, I’ve heard you whisper, I’ve heard you get angry and shout, I’ve heard you scream... both in anger and my name” He drunkenly added that afterthought and you smacked him playfully in the chest while you felt your face heat up.

“yeah so... got a point... now is not the time to go do... things. The whole crew will know”

“So? As if they don’t know what we do.” He leaned in to kiss you, but you only gave him a quick peck.

“Okay Captain sake, what was your actual point?”

“Oh right... sorry, you’re distracting” You laughed again.

“You didn’t tell me you could use that voice of yours for singing as well?”

“Really Shanks? That was important enough to drag me away from the party?”

“Well I can make it worth your while” he had a drunken grin plastered on his face.

You quickly ducked away and made your way back to the party, wanting to tease him a little for dragging you away for something so small, stupid and yet embarrassing.

You couldn’t escape for too long though. Before you could sit back around the fire, you were pulled into a familiar chest, and Shanks sat down with you in his lap.

“How bout you sing a little louder, just for me?”

#shanks x reader #zoro x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law #akagami no shanks #roronoa zoro #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #reader insert #headcanon #one piece headcanons #request

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

Text

Maybe Death Gives Up On Us

My Masterlist

Maybe We Meet Again (prequel to this)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: The second and final part of the sequel of In Another Life, set in a Modern!AU.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Mentions of death, descriptions of violence and death, major character death (past), angst (a lot of it), nothing else I can think of.

A/N: So, this is it. Idk how I feel about this tbh, but I hope you’ll like it. Thank you! Love you!!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @heavenly1927 @ietss

You haven’t seen him in two weeks. After silently dropping him off at his -yours? Is it still?- apartment, you managed to distract yourself working on the information the stone ship, and the identity of the shieldmaiden that lay buried at the center of it, provided for your university, for your investigation.

But each night, when you close your eyes and you still see the wide and scared eyes of the man you love looking back at you in a mix of disbelief and grief, centuries dawn on you, memories choke you, and you are forced to face the realization Ivar, the quick-witted and endearing, guarded and loving, man you’ve known and loved for almost a year was the same one you saw in your nightmares, his knife in your heart, his teary eyes on yours, his lips whispering promises of love.

And so you go to him. For your sake, but, you dare think, also for his.

When he opens the door, you are stunned into silence. Gods, the eyes are still the same, and for so long you hoped that familiarity to be a trick of Fate, and not…not the reality that his eyes were in fact those of the man in your -her?-memories.

“Why are you here?” Ivar asks, and it strikes you how much like the man in your memories he looks.

He always did, but now…now you see the cruelty, the vitriol, the resentment. They were always there, the anger and the explosiveness are still the same but…but there’s an unhinged side to it all, and it reminds you so much of…of those last days.

You close your eyes tight for a moment, clearing your throat and stepping into the apartment.

“I…wanted to see how…how you’re faring.”

“I’m losing my fucking mind, Princess,” Ivar confesses, and where you think he meant for there to be bite and anger and resentment, all you find is desperation and fear and pain. He shrugs, and his eyes cannot meet yours, “Or I’ve lost it already, I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to lose your mind, Ivar.” You point out, letting out a sigh.

“I think I did, you know,” He confesses, hesitantly, a little lost. He shakes his head, running a hand over loose hair -hair that for some reason you expected to see in braids you once knew by heart-, “After I killed Oleg. I think…I ran out of people to blame and I-…”

You interrupt him, even though a part of you clings to his words, clings to the confession like who holds their hand over a burning flame, begging to feel pain if only to make sense of the world.

“Not you. It wasn’t you.”

“Why do I remember it then, hm?” Ivar presses, anger back in his tone, “Why do I remember…remember when I almost drowned on the way to Wessex, when we took Mercia and the Isles and you promised to marry me? Why do I remember when I-…?”

His voice wavers and dies, and Ivar grits his teeth, averting his eyes from yours. It does nothing to hide the agony in his gaze, the tears in his eyes.

You try finding the calm, the certainty, that you’ve held on to ever since you found yourself remembering.

“It is not unheard of, that some people may-…”

“Are you going to start talking about reincarnation, Princess?” He chuckles, but it is watery and broken.

“All I’m saying is that there is proof that cycles repeat. The Ancient Greeks spoke of some souls that given the choice to remain in the Elysian fields, their…Valhalla,” Ivar’s eyes turn to you with sharp focus, and you know he remembers the countless conversations where she wondered on what Valhalla truly meant. Still, you continue, “or return to the living, they chose to return, to live again.”

“That’s why you-…” He takes a deep breath, before he tries finding his voice again. You’ve never seen Ivar so…fragile, with the stance of a man that’s tethered by a thin string onto the safe side of a cliff. He swallows, and meets your eyes again, “That’s why you found me? To prove reincarnation is a thing?”

You shake your head before he is even done asking the question. Because still, past everything, you cannot fathom seeing the fragility in his eyes, the fear that it was a lie.

“I didn’t know you were-…I didn’t know you also remembered.”

“But you took me to y-your grave, to that ship. A stone ship, because you died too far from the sea, from o-our seas,” He shakes his head, as if trying to fight back against the memories that flood his mind, that come pouring out of his lips. “Why did you take me there? Did you hope I would remember? Remember what I did, what it cost me?”

“No, I-…”

He gestures with his arm, interrupting you. His voice raises, his temper does as well, the fury and desperation shining clearly in his pale eyes.

“Why, then!? To torment me, for…for what I did?” He huffs a breath, running his hand through his hair, “You did that plenty, you didn’t have to find me I don’t know how many centuries later to torture me for it, Princess.”

You close your eyes tight, and your hands curl into fists, anything to keep you in one piece, anything to keep you from breaking apart at the seams.

“Stop calling me that. You remember, which means you know what it means.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“‘Princess’?”

You nod, “My father is an Earl, Ivar. You are the Prince.”

“Mhm,” He concedes, and in someone that didn’t know him like you do the way he focuses on spinning the round-handled knife in his finger would be nothing but a nonchalant gesture. But you know better, and so you stay silent. Ivar clears his throat, before he offers, “I could make you a Princess, one day. I-If you wanted.”

Your heart lurches in your chest, and the start of a wide and stupid smile spreads on your lips. Leave it to him to bring up the possibility of one day marrying you like this.

Your hands find the sides of his face, and you bring your forehead to rest against his before you whisper, as softly as you can,

“I have no interest in being a Princess, Ivar,” Before his thoughts can get ahead of him, before he can build a wall so high not a thousand years of war would make a dent on them, you press your lips against his for a moment, before whispering, “But I’d love to be your wife.”

“Do you remember all of it?” Ivar asks, and you frown.

“Why do you ask?”

“Would you have done it?” He asks, and you both pretend to ignore how his voice wavers, “If I hadn’t stopped you, would you have joined Björn against me?”

You know what the real questions are: Was the murder in vain? Was the promise of betrayal nothing but a ruse? Did she die for nothing? Did he have other choice?

You cannot give him the answer, if only because it would mean accepting that he is…him, and that you are…her. And you cannot accept that.

That certainty that it is only memories what returns is what has kept you sane for these past weeks.

“She wasn’t-…”

“Not ‘she’,” He corrects, leaning closer. His eyes burn as they meet your own, “You.”

You still shake your head, pretending to be resolute, “It is not proven that anything other than memories rema-…”

“Why do you insist on denying who you are!?”

Rough fingers trace up and down your spine, and you nestle closer to the warmth, content and sated.

“I always wonder…” Ivar starts, and you hum to signal you are listening, “Why it is you are always so calm, so…courteous with everyone else. But you are always so easy to grow angry with me.”

“You have a talent for getting under my skin,” You confess, pressing a kiss over a new mark that starts showing on his neck, a small little proof that he is yours. After a breath, your lips curve into a mischievous smile, and you drag your teeth over that same, now sensitive, spot. “And I don’t hear you complaining, my love.”

And you realize with gut-wrenching clarity that never changed. Each time his voice raises so does yours, each time his temper flares so does yours to meet it.

And so you raise your chin and square your shoulders, never missing the weight of a shield at your back as you do now.

You take a breath shaky breath before you reply, voice raised and eyes shining with more than fury, “Because if I’m her, that means you are h-him!”

There’s tears making their way down your cheeks, there’s a tremble in your hands you cannot control, there’s a brittleness to all that makes you you, but there’s steel in your spine, there’s ice in your veins, there’s an anger that has lasted centuries singing in your blood.

And so you approach him with certain strides, furious eyes set on his and breaking your own heart with the familiarity of the situation.

The memories make your head feel less clouded, less cluttered, but they make your heart feel like it will break in two inside your chest.

The distrusting edge in his eyes, the cruel twist of his mouth, the cold tone of his voice.

The loud fights where he almost dared you to admit loving him was a lie, wild eyes and demanding voice. The quiet nights where you heard the pleas that you were truly his to keep pressed against your skin in between reverent kisses.

“Means you refused to believe I loved you for years on end!”

Your fist clashes against his chest, but Ivar doesn’t react. It feels like talking to a marble statue, to a distant figure of a past not your own, to a monster you read about in books and saw in your dreams.

The smile as he approached Kattegat’s throne after so long, the way he let go of your hand when it came to view.

The silent demand you make a choice: your people, or him. The refusal to acknowledge it was a choice at all after you decided to stay by his side.

“Means you chose a fucking throne over me!”

Even if your words end in a sob, you still hold on to anger, to grief, to the always bleeding, always stinging wound of betrayal.

Pleas not to bring the Rus army to Scandinavia falling on deaf ears, promises that the Rus is only the means to an end, arrogance coating his words as he vows he can control Oleg.

“Means you trusted that Rus bastard more than your own wife!”

Your fist tightens even more, and your head bows for a moment, before you lift your gaze to find his again. To make your fury and your pain meet his regret and his mistakes.

Your head hurting from so many hours crying in silence, holding onto anger and grief and ruin. Your steps those of a woman sentenced for death when you grab your sword and go meet him, meet your Fate.

“Means I…I…I loved you, and you broke my heart!”

And your hand lets go of the tension, just as your body does, and you stand with your back curved under the pain of centuries. And now your open palm rests against his chest, right over his heart.

The heart you once thought you owned. The heart that was more than once, in more than one lifetime, your most precious possession.

There’s tears in his eyes, there’s a sob making its way past parted lips that try to whisper your name.

But there’s certainty in the sharp movement of the knife, there’s finality in the blade that pierces your heart.

“…It means you killed me, Ivar.”

And the last of your strength, of your anger, of your grief, leave you. It doesn’t feel like defeat, though, it doesn’t feel like being crushed under the weight of Fate.

It feels freeing, like relief after trying to stand under a heavy weight for such a long time. Longer than you remember, probably.

Still, maybe because you were never strong enough to hold on to these memories, to this other life; or maybe because that is what strength is when you taste your own blood in your lips, when you know what it is like to have your heart stopped by the one that owns it; you break.

And your hand on his chest is the one thing keeping you upright, before his free hand settles on your back. Where you would have expected the uncertain hold of trying to soothe you, you find Ivar grips you as tightly as he can, holding you towards him with a mix of gentleness and desperation that speaks of pain and regret and love.

You don’t know how long you cry, and scream, and beg to know why. You don’t know how long he holds you, you don’t know how long you hold him.

He doesn’t say he is sorry, he doesn’t ask for forgiveness. You only hear him say your name, and three words you can still feel reverberating in your chest.

Says both of those things so many times your name doesn’t sound yours anymore, even though it is, it always has been. Says both of those things for so long his voice breaks and yet with each ‘I love you’ he presses against your skin you hear it louder and louder.

You don’t know when he gently pushed you to sit on the bed, but you did, and you have the strange feeling of being an intruder to the room you and he shared before…before he knew who he was, who you were; before you knew who he was.

A whisper of your name, and you lift your gaze from the comforter you were numbly tracing with shaking fingers.

His eyes are red, and you know yours are too. His breath is shaky, and you know yours is too.

“I am…angry,” You confess, absently tracing his cheek with the back of your fingers, “At you and…and at Fate. A-Aren’t you?”

“Fate brought you back to me,” He whispers, hand trapping yours and pressing a kiss to your wrist, right over your pulse, “I found you again, after all I did, after…what I did to you. I can’t think of this as anything other than…”

“A blessing?” You interrupt, a smirk pulling at your lips, “Awfully Christian of you, Ivar.”

Your tease, weak and burdened by the past as it is, manages to make a smile pull at his lips, to make life return to his eyes, to make hi huff a breath than in another life could have been a chuckle.

You smile too, because you cannot help it. Still, you move back, away from where he sits on the bed, and curl over yourself, your back to the headboard and eyes glued to the digital picture frame that loops over and over pictures of you and Ivar.

His voice startles you from comfortable numbness, “How do you…live with it?”

You frown, “Why would I have the answer?”

He shrugs, “You’ve known for months.”

You can’t keep the bite from your tone when you point out, “I didn’t kill you.”

“You did.” He sentences, voice hoarse and avoiding your gaze. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to find a center, find clarity, find anything past resentment and pain and anger.

Instead of acknowledging his words, you offer, “The theory is that we all return, but…only a few have memories of those times. I talk to some people that…that have remembered too.”

“Does it help?”

“Haven’t met anyone that was stabbed in the heart by the man they loved, so…no, they don’t help much.”

“Anyone that stabbed the woman they loved in the heart?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes,” You sigh, before swallowing past a dry throat. Even if your voice wavers, you confess, “His eyes are familiar.”

“You are a very fortunate man to have her, I hope you know that.” The Rus whispers, dark eyes leaving your husband’s to travel to you. He offers a smile, a smile that speaks of sadness and envy and pain, a smile that for once seems honest.

Ivar keeps calculating eyes on the raven-haired man, and lifts your joined hands to his lips, pressing a deliberate kiss on the inside of our wrist, right over your pulse. Were this any other situation, and it would make a rush of heat travel through you, but now you only watch frozen in your spot as the Viking smiles.

“I know.”

“But you’d do the same thing I did, wouldn’t you? If you found your sweet wife had betrayed you.”

Ivar’s answer is immediate, and the fire in his eyes speaks of anger even if his voice is certain, “She would never.”

Oleg’s eyes narrow, and the smile he offers is once again shallow, once again a lie, once again poison, “I thought so too. Now my heart is broken, and she is in a crypt.”

“My mother…” Ivar starts, a broken sort of wonder shining through his words, “Her eyes are familiar.”

The part of you that even after death refused to stop loving him smiles, and grows warm at the knowledge he now recognizes her.

“Frighteningly so.” You concede with a nod.

“Do you think…do you think she knows? That she remembers?”

“She was once one to see beyond what the rest of us can. I think…I think she still is.”

Ivar sighs, “Gods…”

“It…time makes it make more sense, trust me.” You offer, somewhat sheepishly. What can you say to someone that has just remembered a whole life before this one?

Ivar lays down on the bed, hands at his sides and gaze on the ceiling. You remain sitting, your legs folded before you, your arms holding them close to you, as if to keep you safe, together.

After a while, he breaks the silence, “We were happy, weren’t we? Before?”

You don’t ask which before he means, because the answer remains the same. Before, when he was just the son of some lost legend and you were the unruly daughter of an earl, you loved him and he loved you and you were happy.

Before, when he was leader of the greatest of armies and you were a shieldmaiden known across the land, you loved him and he loved you and you were happy.

Before, even with the weight of defeat on your shoulder and the poisonous snake of dark eyes and darker heart at your backs, you loved him and he loved you and you were happy.

And because Fate granted you another chance, or maybe because the Gods are cruel, you had a before after all those ones. Before, when he was just the man you met in a coffeeshop and you were just a student trying to unveil one of the greatest tragedies -or greatest love stories, depending on who you asked-, you loved him and he loved you and you were happy.

And so the answer is a breath on your lips, light and easy and true, “Yes.”

Problem is, you don’t know what you are supposed to do now. How you are supposed to live with all those befores, with all those afters. With all these memories, memories that make you hate him, and love him, and miss him.

A part of you wishes you would have never known of the past, that you would have never recognized him, or his eyes. But you know even in death you’d know him, you know even in another life you’d miss him.

And so you lay down on the bed next to him, and sigh.

“I never thought you’d…I didn’t take you there on purpose.”

Ivar’s smile is bitter, “Because you hoped it wasn’t me.”

“Need I remind you why, my love?” You point out without missing a beat, too late realizing that is not an endearment you usually use. No…that’s hers. Yours, from…before.

“I haven’t heard you call me that in a long time,” He chuckles. A few beats of silence, and Ivar takes a deep breath, “I’ve missed you. I-I know y-…”

“I understand,” You interrupt him, and in a moment of weakness you reach for his hand. He doesn’t hesitate to return the hold, tight and hinting at desperation. Your eyes fall closed, and you can be somewhere else, in another time, in another life, “I’ve missed you too.”

Ivar takes a breath, and lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a -reverent, familiar- kiss over your fingers, “We can do this, Princess. We can…be happy. We got another chance, I…I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” You promise, and it comes easy to you. Many times you promised him the same, and each and every time you meant it with all that you are. “I…I love you, Ivar.”

“In the last life and this one?”

You accept his words with closed eyes and a huff of weak laughter, but the promise is still true, “And all the ones after.”

He lifts himself up on one arm, leaning over you. He is so close to you that you can feel his warmth, familiar and enthralling and his, and your heart beats so quickly in your chest you are certain he can feel it.

It feels long-overdue, it feels like nostalgia and familiarity and a past you loved; when you lean up and kiss him. But it also feels like new, it feels like hope and thrill and a future you want to discover.

It is Ivar who breaks the kiss first, yet it is him that comes back and presses his lips to yours again, stealing your breath and your heart and your sanity.

When he pulls back again and his eyes meet yours, you notice they are the same and yet so different. Yet the feeling in your chest, the smile that curves at your lips, the love you see shining in his eyes, they are all the same.

“You and me, Princess, in this life and the next,” He smiles, “We will make death give up on us.”

____

So, that is it for this story! I would love to know what you think of this, of the ending, of everything really. Hope you enjoyed!!

As always, thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great day/night! Love ya!

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar

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