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avengersassemble123 · 4 months

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ASKING TOKREV BOYS FOR YOU TO WAX THEM PT.3

FT. KOKONOI, INUPI, SANZU, HANMA

-----

KOKONOI

You slowly applied the wax strips as Kokonoi continued to sleep blissfully, unaware about his surroundings, as you tried to hold in your giggles as you applied the last wax strip on his chest.

You had applied few wax strips on his chest and one on either of his feet, while he continued to sleep peacefully. After a few seconds, you reached for a wax strip at the dead center of his chest, before trying to rip it out, but only being pulled partially.

Koko snapped his eyes open, grunting awake in shock, as he felt a sort of abrupt pain on the skin of his chest, as he looked at you, covering your mouth, trying to cover your laughter, as he looked down towards his body.

"Huh what happened?" Koko said, still not over his sleep despite being woken up abruptly, as he moved his hand over his chest, feeling something stuck on him.

"LMAOO you're so lucky, you're so lucky" (NAME) said, not being able to control her laughter, as Koko still tried to figure out what was going on.

"It felt like a heartattack..What're you doing?" Koko asked, as he now tried sitting on the bed, looking over his chest, before it clicked.

"OHH FUCK MEE" He cursed, as he laid back again, as he placed his hand over his forehead and eyes in frustration and realisation, while you laughed at his reaction.

"Oh god (NAME) are you serious? What ar- THEY'RE ON MY FUCKING FEET TOO??" Koko exclaimed, as he lifted both his feet up, which displayed the wax strips on them.

You laughed, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

"Yea, they're on your feet too. But luckily for you, its more on your chest since majorly the hair is present there." You exclaimed casually, as Koko looked at you in horror, as he sat on the edge of the bed.

You then suddenly ripped a wax strip off his chest, making Koko squeal loudly as he fell back on the bed, covering the waxed area by his hands, "AAAHHH FUCK"

"You wanna choose which one you wanna do next." You said, laughing, as Koko stood up from the bed, trying to go towards a mirror, "OH MY GOD" he said as he took a glance of himself in the mirror, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers while the other hand rested on his hip.

You pulled another strip from his chest.

"AHHH MY NIPPLE!"

-----

INUPI

Your boyfriend was busy watching TV, while you sat by the basin, applying wax on a wax strip, as you continuously peeked behind to see if you're boyfriend is still oblivious to this.

Inupi did notice you acting weirdly, but he figured it must be some silly prank that you're planning to pull, but not exactly figuring out what are you really going to pull on him.

As he continued watching TV, pushing those thoughts away, you slowly walked towards him on the couch, the wax strip behind your back by one hand, you sat on the couch beside him, pulling his hand over your shoulder, before snuggling onto him, which he gladly appreciated, pulling you closer, his eyes not leaving the TV.

Just then he felt something on his leg. As if something warm was glued onto his leg, as he looked down to see some paper stuck onto his leg, making his brows furrow.

"Huh?" He grunted confused, as he bent down slightly to examine it, before realisation hit him.

"Are you serious (NAME)?" Inupi looked at you with a deadpanned expression, making you chuckle.

"Fuck off...Are you kidding me right now?" Inupi groaned, as he tried pulling the wax strip off his leg slowly, hissing when he felt the pain, realising there was no way out now.

As you reached towards the strip, Inupi pulled his leg away from you, as he held your hand, groaning, "(NAME) no.."

"What's the matter? Its got to come off, not that its stuck." You laughed, as your boyfriend rubbed both of his hands against his face, while grumbling frustratingly.

"You're a dick, you know that right?" Inupi grunted, making you laugh more.

"Are you ready?" You asked as you rubbed in the wax strip, while Inupi laid his leg on the couch flat, preparing himself, "fuck no, but here we are."

"No no no no, wait" Inupi said, still pulling his leg, while you wheezed, trying to get his leg over to you.

"For fuck's sake" inupi groaned, as now he held his leg still by both hands, while you ripped the strip.

As soon as you ripped the strip, he yelped, rubbing his hand over the waxed area, while you cackled hysterically, disposing the wax strip before patting his head.

"Why do I even put up with you at this point?"

-----

SANZU

"Okay thats enough."

Sanzu said, sat on a chair, his hands and facing leaning against the headrest, while you applied wax on a small part of his back, his nose already stuffed with two wax dipped earbuds.

"(NAME) thats enough." Sanzu whined, his head slightly tilting sideways to meet your eyesight.

"I'm cleaning it up becauses you have pieces of it strangled on it." You said, as you continued working on it.

"That shit's hot." Sanzu muttered, his brows furrowing, to which you acknowledged him with your humming.

You waited for a few seconds, while the sight of your boyfriend stuffed with waxed earbuds up his nose, with his shirt pulled up to his neck due to the wax on his back, wildly entertained you.

You ensured all his hair was placed towards his front, before trying to get a grip on the wax. You soothed his back before ripping the wax out.

As soon as you ripped out the strip, Sanzu winced, abruptly standing up, moving away from the chair he sat, "Put that shit down, that shit fucking hurt." Sanzu said, as he pulled his shirt down, glaring at you lightly, while you covered your mouth, hiding your laughter, as you went towards him to hug him, while he pouted, "Baby are you okay?" You said, still laughing, as he slightly hugged you back as well, "Hell no, why the fuck do people use that?"

After a while, you two stood in the bathroom, as Sanzu tied his hair up, before leaning towards the basin, reluctantly holding one wax earbud up his nose since he decided that he didnt trust you enough to pull it out of his nose as you would literally rip out his nose as well, making you put your tongue out mockingly, giving him the middle finger.

Sanzu warmed himself up by tugging on the stick briefly before trying to pull it out, but failing miserable, making you wheeze at his failed attempt. He tried it once again but failed again, grunting out in pain and frustration while you stared at him with the look of 'i told you so', making hims giving you the middle finger this time.

As he attempted to remove the wax stick again, he failed again, making you both laugh out hysterically, while Sanzu tugged at the stick with both his hands, "Its stuck man..."

After dealing with the waxing, you both sat on the couch, as he let you clean his face with a towel,

"Your ass better not tell this shit to anyone or else im hunting you down to the ends of the earth."

"Yea yea i know.."

-----

HANMA

You two laid on your bed, as your boyfriend's head laid on your lap, while you applied the wax above his eyebrows to shape it.

"You better not mess up my beautiful face babe." Hanma said smirking, making you flick his forehead.

"As if. Im doing a favor by trying to make your face look bearable. And besides you can't mess up something that's already messed up." You sassed, as you stuck the waxing strips, rubbing on it to get it properly stuck, while your boyfriend played with your hair, irritating and teasing you.

As you waited for the wax to set in, you swatted Shuji's hands as he was getting impatient to remove the strips.

"Shuji not now."

"Then when?? Its taking too long. I thought this was supposed to be quick."

"The wax needs to set in dumbass."

"Always knew you were into these kind of nonsense."

"Shut the hell up."

As you got ready for pulling out the wax strips, Hanma held a mirror in front of his face, looking at the process inquisitively.

You managed to rip out one strip, making him taken aback alightly, eyebrows furrowing, as you rubbed the waxed area.

"Goddamn.." he muttered before his eyebrows fully twitched before leaning the mirror towards his face, examining, his mouth open, "What the fuck" Hanma called out before you both burst out laughing as you showed him the wax strip with excess eyebrow hair of his.

"What the fuck's up with my eyebrows." Hanma howled, cackling, as he continued examining his waxed area, before your ripped out the second one as well, making his jaw open out more.

"WHAT THE FUCK." You laughed as he cackled, while rubbing his waxed area, "Woman, what in the fuck did you to my eyebrows?"

"I fixed it asshole/ You're welcome."

"HAHA OH SHIT." Hanma exclaimed, as he sat up, admiring his face in the mirror, while you laughed at his antics.

"Well this was not even painful, the other areas when waxing are a pain in the ass, you know."

"Well if this is the result I'm getting, then i'm waxing my whole goddamn body. DAMN WE SHOULD'VE DONE THIS EARLIER."

You placed a hand on your forehead, already fed up, regretting your actions, knowing what else he's gonna make you do now.

"Wait so is it true that you can even shave down between your legs." Hanma asked, as he questioned you with a tilted face. You knew if you answered you would regret it, and even if you didn't he'll not let you off the hook that easily or will be able to find out somehow or the other.

"Yes Shuji, you can shave down there too."

"Huh." A sly grin appeared on your boyfriend's face.

"Then maybe we both should wax it for each other then. That would be fucking fun, won't it be babe?"

"HANMA!"

-----

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55sturn · 2 months

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ BUSIER THAN EVER

↳ series masterlist!

↳ summary: in which chris busies himself with training and practices, not realizing that it’s driving a wedge between him and y/n, leading her to believe that he’s hiding his true feelings about telling the world about their child.

↳ pairings: boston bruins player!chris sturniolo x fem!reader!

↳ warnings: swearing, angst, chris not being mentally present, verbal arguments, mentions of depression, anxiety, vomiting, chris is being a jackass, angst, this is another sad chapter sorry.

↳ important things to note: this is a heavy chapter so please keep that in mind if you choose to keep reading.

THIRD PERSON POV

waking up to an empty house and being left alone with her thoughts has become a common occurrence for y/n. chris used every window and opening in his schedule to be away from the house as y/n began collecting trinkets and furniture for the nursery.

she figured he just wanted to get as much ice time in right now as possible before the baby came. but there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, telling her that chris didn't want to be home while she prepped for the baby and began nesting.

that raw, unwavering feeling told her that chris was sticking around for her sake, for the sake of not letting another kid come into this world without both parents. not because he wanted to raise and start a family. it led her to believe that he wasn't sticking around for the sake of loving the life growing inside her.

so as she unboxed a few of the baby items that she had ordered from small businesses online, she felt an overwhelming sadness claw at her heart. this was supposed to be a bonding moment for her and chris. preparing the nursery as expecting parents was supposed to be a shared core memory, and yet here was, putting together the baby's room alone.

she couldn't reach out to matt and nick because chris had led them to believe that he was all in. that he wanted this as much as y/n did, and if she expressed that she had been completely alone thus far, it would cause a rift between chris and his brothers, and that would be the straw that breaks the camel's back in their relationship.

she had already taken something from him by announcing the pregnancy to him instead of terminating it, so she couldn't bear to take anything else from him. she started to feel like a black hole in the universe of chris' life. she felt like she had sucked up everything that he once loved, only to spit them back out and turn them into something he despised.

the baby blue giraffe statue that she held fell from her grasp as sobs wracked her body. the crashing and shattering sound of the ceramic figurine only amplified her sobs. she felt so lost and alone.

after grabbing the broom and dustpan, she quickly swept up the broken shards, disposing of them, and returning to the room she was converting into a nursery, making quick work of folding the baby blankets and jumpers, placing them in the closet for the time being.

once she had finished unpacking her orders, she made her way into the kitchen, her body exhausted and drained with dried tear tracks on her cheeks. she made herself a quick meal, dishing out another helping for chris, again, out of pure habit. as she ate, she stared at the empty seat across from her.

she thought of all the dinners they shared, the loud laughs, the loving smiles they flashed as they ate in comfortable silence, and the domesticity of it all, and the memories tugged at her heartstrings. they felt like a distant blur in the back of her mind. she couldn't remember the last time they sat down together without it leading to a tense silence or an angry conversation. she looked down at the small bump forming beneath her shirt with tears in her eyes,

"looks like it's just going to be me and you, baby."

chris was stressed. he didn't know what to think. all he did was train, practice, go home, fight with y/n, sleep, and repeat. he tried so hard to believe he wanted the family life right now, but the selfish part of his mind told him that having a family would only drag him down.

that same selfish part told him that his career was all he needed right now. that his position on the bruins was the most important thing going for him currently. and he tried hard to sway that part of his mind but it was no use.

he did want a family of his own, more than anything, but he couldn't convince himself that now was the right time for it. and he couldn't bring himself to be in the house while y/n put together the nursery because it reminded him of what he was going to give up.

it reminded him that he had a choice, his family or his career. he knew he needed to be there for y/n but he was angry and frustrated and that led to him shutting her out. he knew he was fucking up but he just couldn't see that he needed to be there for her, not when she is the reason he felt like his life was in shambles.

and he hated himself for feeling like that towards her, he knew it wouldn't be a permanent feeling, he just needed to come around to the news but it'll take time.

as chris walked into the house, he was met with silence, and for the first time in a long time, he missed hearing y/n run up to him with her arms open wide. as he walked through the house, he stopped at the nursery, and found her curled up in a ball on the plush recliner placed in the corner of the room. as he approached her, he noticed the dried tear tracks staining her cheeks, and for the first time in a long while, he felt his heart constrict. had he really left her alone while she was battling such intense feelings? had he really left her alone in a fragile state? normally when he left for practice, he'd check in on her. and yet, he's acting like she doesn't exist.

he felt anger stew in his chest as he realized how selfishly he had been acting. he knew better than to abandon the girl he loves, and yet, he'd been doing just that without showing any remorse. sighing, he gently shakes her, stirring her awake.

"hey ma, why are you sleeping in here?"

"i figured you would want to sleep when you got home so i decided you could have the bed and i'll just sleep in here tonight." she whispers, her voice thick with sleep and distress as chris' brows furrow.

"why?"

"you've been so distant lately, i figured you'd want the bed to yourself so instead of causing another fight, i can just give it up."

"y/n don't."

"you're never here anymore chris and it is killing me to go through this alone but i can't make you want this, so the best i can do is let you be alone and come to terms with whatever is happening on your own."

"i do want this, what the fuck do you mean?" chris spits, his voice raising as she sits and stares at him, her face void of all emotion while chris' face grows taut with frustation.

"no you don't chris. if you did, you'd be here, you'd help put this room together, you wouldn't leave me alone to deal with it all by myself if you wanted this. you're making yourself and your family think you want this because you can't stand letting people down but you're already doing that. you're not present and you're starting to despise me. i can't remember the last time you hugged or kissed me since i told you i was pregnant chris."

"i do want this, it's just so new to me and i need to process."

"you don't think i need to process? you don't think it's new to me?"

"i never said that!"

"well the way you act chris, shows that you have no regard for what i am dealing with during all this. i need you and instead of being here, i'm losing you. you're pushing me away and shutting me out and you're blaming me still. it's not fair."

"well i need to focus on my career too." chris seethes, his chest falling and rising rapidly, quickly growing stressed as they start to have the same fight they've had almost every day.

"your career isn't everything chris, and you promised me that when you got drafted that i wouldn't come second place to it but i guess breaking promises has become your thing."

"can we get this over with? i'm tired and i just wanted to see my girl."

"am i really your girl chris? or am i just someone that you live with?"

"y/n, come on, you know i love you." chris sighs, crouching in front of the girl as tears well along her waterline.

"i don't know that chris! you don't say it anymore."

chris sighs as his lips turn downward, without another word he pulls the girl to her feet and takes her place in the recliner, pulling her into his lap. as he tucks her head against his chest, right above his heart, he realizes that he really was letting the one person that he's ever loved slip away because he fed into his own selfishness, not seeing how badly it was killing her.

"i know it's hard to trust me right now baby, but i do want this, i'm just so overwhelmed and scared but i'm going to do better."

↳ taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @soursturniolo @4sturns @sturnsclutter @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee

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#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x fem reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x fem!reader #christopher sturniolo oneshot #christopher sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo smut #back to december universe #back to december [my og work]#hockey boyfriend au #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #Spotify

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blueparadis · 1 year

Note

Hi! I love your writing :)

If you have the time/are interested can yo make TR Mikey x reader smut with Mikey realizing reader is a virgin right before their first time? Either he believed gossips or the reader teases a lot or something. Whatever you cook up if you decide to do this, I am sure I will love it :)

Have a nice day

—

Thank you >:)) okay. this was very precise but idk why it confused me. I did my best tho. I love him sm. I'm always excited to write on him >^< hope you love it too <33

STAY WITH ME ; MANJIRO SANO !

୨ content & tags ୧ ~ f!reader, mafia au, mention of brothels, arrange marriage, virginity k!nk, ( domestic ) fluff, f1nger1ng, orgasm control, kisses and soft love making, very light corruption k!nk, teasing, he is a big softie here. word count — 2kish + blog navigation.

“You know about this ?”, Draken throws the newspaper in front of Manjiro who is deeply staring at his knuckles and his rings, sitting on a bar stool holding a drink with his non-dominant hand.

“They made it public. Were you aware of this? . . . ”Draken continues in a harsh tone with his eyebrows furrowing further as Manjiro keeps him playing with a ring, juggling it in between his fingers. “Mi-key, you know what this means right? The wedding is gonna happen in a week or . . .”

“Shin told me that we're going to visit them. Tomorrow. So, I figured . . .”

“You figured what? Y/N is practically in the front page with massive headlines and. . . ” Manjiro grabs the news paper instantly looking at the photo of her. She is walking out of a shop in a one-piece dress that reveals much of her body curves, beautifully, he must add. And except the chauffeur, there is no sign of a bodyguard. How dare he! That scoundrel.

Moreover, it's been almost a year since he saw her or it would be more accurate to say that he was forbidden to see her, meet her, talk to her. The only thread of communication he had with her was occasional gifts, though it was more of a bridging alliance with her father than wooing her.

“We’re leaving.”He rushes out of their private bar,“Now. And Inform Haruchiyo. He is coming with us.”

“What? ”, Draken gasped. “But Shinichiro -san ”

“Didn't you want me to take action? This is me taking action . . . for her. ”

“Ahhh, fuck it.”

Manjiro wasn't angry. He was furious, furious that his fiancee is roaming around the town without any sort of protection. He has been humbling himself since the day this bond was sealed. He had stopped going to whore house, bringing girls in his house or even going to a bar with Izana. The day this marriage was confirmed, he knew he had to cut off all these (bad) habits once she is under same room with him.

She was sent to study abroad, right after the meeting. Manjiro would have easily continued his lavish acts but he was told to behave, told to be prepared for her. And now that she is back, Manjiro was supposed to court her, take care of her, and get rid of the childish awkwardness of a newly married couple. Who knows what happened abroad? She might have been deflowered or . . .

“Woah. What a good day it is . . .”, Y/N’s father rose up folding the newspaper and keeping it on the tea table as he saw three men approaching in his way. Manjiro Sano, Ken Ryuguji and Sanzu Haruchiyo. Of course, they had no trouble with the security.

Without greeting Manjiro walked in to the house, he was determined to meet her. Draken stopped y/n's father with his hand while his lips started to work. “Nah... Shiba-san .... When did y/n got back? We came here immediately as soon as we saw her... in the headlines” Haruchiyo stood beside the man with his eyes on the ground, hands tucked behind at the valley of his waist.

Manjiro smiled to himself as he heard Draken making the small talk. Ah! Geez. He never changes. His eyes scanned the hall. Not a soul was there, not even a servant. He heard quick footsteps cascading down the stairs, his heartbeats escalated, breathing became faster, hands crawling inside the pocket of his slacks. . .“Ahrey. . . Isn't it yuzuha? ”

She cocked her head to a side exclaiming in a bored tone. “Hakkai and Taiju are busy at the restaurant. I'm sure you know why”

“I’m not here for them” Yuzuha couldn't help but smile at his confession.

“She is in her room. Up-stairs. Right - wing. Last room with balcony.” Manjiro was already walking as he bowed his head to give his utmost thanks to her.

He stood in front of the door for a minute thinking now what? He hasn't prepared shit to say and he certainly doesn't want to scare her. Last meeting was . . . he was quite hard on her. He knocked, three times and waited. Within five seconds he saw y/n opening the door with so much zeal in her eyes.

“You should always ask. . . Who is it? Before opening the door.”, Manjiro quipped walking into the room and closing the door behind, without turning so as to keep his eyes on her.

“Are you not surprised to see me? ”

“Yuzuu texted.”, that girl always had a knack for enacting tit-for-tat whenever there was an opening.

“So, within a week. . . You'll have to stay. . . ”

“Stay with you, share bed with you, obey you. . . Yeah, yeah I know” God! What did they do to her? Last time when Manjiro saw her she had no fire in her eyes, no fight in her soul. What exactly happened at abroad?

“I wasn't going to say that but i guess that sums up. Here”, he kept a strip of medicines. “You will have these. I want you to be prepared for our wedding night. Start from today.” Part of her knew what those pills did, while part of her wanted to ask, to hear through his voice. How fucking rude! No gifts, no talk straight to sex.

The wedding day was lustrous and full of happiness. Just for a day, everyone in the Shiba family set aside there differences to make you smile. Yuzuha complained a little about how she is gonna be lonely without her sister and claimed she is gonna visit her soon but Manjiro brushed it off.

“You’re drinking too much. . . Is the crowd making you nervous? Do you want to go inside? Is the food too spicy? ”

Manjiro was kind even for a man who belonged to the obsidian world of blood-bath. His attention was focused on her, her tone of talking, body language. He cannot wait to just have her, share bed with her and fuck her in all positions known to a man, fuck her till all she remembers is his name, till she reeks of him, thinks of him and only him.

He entered the room an hour later than her. By the time she already had changed clothes and was under the covers laying down and thinking about the marriage, this marriage that was mere an alliance and she was just a peace offering.

“Y/N, you still awake?”Manjiro asked coming out of the bathroom and standing near the edge of the bed. The light of night lamp was perfectly falling on her face as she turned around to face him. Manjiro’s heart dropped at the pit of his stomach, cock twitched as her body peeked from under the covers.

“Are you tired?”, he asked leaning over her as he tucked the loose hair strands behind her ear. She nodded and sat upright. He was now sharing the same cover as her, cock growing, eyes glinting in lust and heart pounding amongst his rib cage. He cupped her face so as she would meet his eyes but she jerked his hands off instantaneously, jumping out of the bed and making some distance between them.

“Don’t”

“Why? Did i do something wrong? Something that hurt you? ”

“No but . . .” “I didn't take pills.”

Manjiro got out of bed and strolled towards her. She backed away. He could see her shaky hands, he swallowed and looked away. “Do i scare you, Y/N?”

“No.” There was silence for a few seconds since Manjiro did not know what to do, what to say. He wasn't ready to have babies, not yet. And, now he can't even fuck her raw and he would hate to wear condom on his wedding night. He always used protection while visiting brothels even though he knew all the girls were clean.

“I. . . I want . . . I need time”, she breathed out. Manjiro’s eyebrows jumped since an entirely different fact dawned on him. Could it be. . . she is. . .?

“Are. . .” he cleared his throat. “Are you still a virgin ?”

“What do you mean still?” , she thought.

“umm-hmm” He raked his fingers through his pitch-black hair revealing his dragon tattoo as her feeble umm-hmm echoed in his head. She is a virgin, that is, he is going to be her first, probably for everything. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded if it were opposite since he was dry for almost an year and now had to keep himself under control. Great. He is truly fucked.

“Do you trust me, y/n ?”

“I can try ”

Manjiro laid out his hand in front of her. She hesitated at first but the moment she kept her palm over his, Manjiro lowered his head to kiss her knuckles. As soon as he raised his head, he pulled her against his body wrapping his other hand around her waist. Her body felt warm,less shaky as he felt her nose grazing against his chest muscles.

“So, you're saying that. . .”, he earned her stares on him as he spoke further. “No one was handsome enough for your taste ?”

“It was a all - girls college.”

“Uhhh-Hahh!” , Manjiro lips tugged up. “And they didn't tell you about anything? What actually happens during wedding night? When they came to know about our marriage.”

“I wasn't supposed to talk about my life, this life to them. I made friends. They were nice but i missed home.” Manjiro was taken aback by her ways for two reasons; one : she wasn't afraid of him like others, two: she was innocent but not naive, a little brave he might add.

“Y/N ?”

“Hmm?”

And when she peered up Manjiro pressed his lips against her cheeks just at the corner of her lips without a second thought. He has fucked enough girls to know a woman's weak spots but this felt out of syllabus. He guided her hands over his shoulders as his lips proceeded along her neckline. Manjiro bucked his hips , pressed his hard on against her entrance earning a loud gasp with her hands locking around his nape. Bingo.

Manjiro swiftly pushed her on to the bed. He stood looking at her while she panted vigorously. He discarded his upper clothing, crawling on top her. His head dipped while she leaned in, lips slightly parted awaiting for his kiss. But Manjiro’s lithe fingers worked on the buttons of her night dress. “What? You thought I was gonna kiss you. . . on your lips. You asked for time, remember?”

But immediately Manjiro’s lips were silenced by a kiss. Dry, short-lived and quick. His hands were still on undoing the buttons Manjiro couldn't help but grin.

“Is that you call a kiss? ”one of his hands travelled underneath her thin night gown, way up to her vagina. His fingers penetrated her at the same time his lips dashed on hers. Manjiro wasn't in mood to hold back because her body was eager. She was just a little afraid and by her desperate hold on his arms, Manjiro could tell she was loving it.

He explored her lips and kissed as deep as he could. “That is ... What you call a kiss.”, he whispered against her lips before pecking her cheeks. He added one more finger and quickened his pace, hitting her spot, watching her eyes blanking out, her grips growing stronger on his arms, body squirming underneath his. Her hips reflexively bucked up as orgasm washed over her body.

“Good girl. ”, he hummed as he rolled beside her giving space to breath licking his fingers shamelesly.

@tokyometronetwork

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fueledbysano · 1 year

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𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐎𝐅: 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝟏 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

mikey as your professional racer husband ♡

♱ ft. racer!mikey x afab!reader

♱ content/warnings: manga spoilers, fluff, domestic fluff, suggestive themes

♱ a/n: well, if this isn't the life. I plan to make this a mini series for the other tr boys' future professions too when I have the time. anw i love racer mikey so much he can have my kids

˗ˏˋ A normal day for Mikey typically looks like training, and practice races. and so, you start the day with making him a big breakfast so he stays in top condition for the day.

˗ˏˋ He also loves it when you eat with him, so he sits you on his lap, making sure you have a taste of your own delicious creation.

˗ˏˋ Before he leaves, it's routine that you're the one to put on his uniform and protective gear. You finish off by placing a sweet kiss on his lips before securing a helmet over his head.

˗ˏˋ Everytime he drives off, it becomes a habit to flash his tail light three times for you as an "I love you".

˗ˏˋ and he also brought up this habit on his actual races, blinking it for you before the countdown as good luck; to which you eventually realized, as you always get the front row seats to his tournaments and matches.

˗ˏˋ In the race track, you are still Mikey's number one, quite literally, when you are wearing one of his jackets that has your shared last name and the distinct number "1" on the back, which is Mikey's number.

˗ˏˋ You are often shown on the big screen as you watch Mikey, making sure to capture your reaction, especially to his wins.

˗ˏˋ You eventually learned how to pose like a model, especially when cameras love stealing shots of you— the star racer's stunning and supportive wife.

˗ˏˋ If you look him up, there's a handful of cute photos of the two of you kissing beside the race track.

˗ˏˋ You are the first person he looks for after every race, and you'll always be ready to hug him proudly whatever place he gets.

˗ˏˋ You always host a celebratory party for him everytime Mikey wins a race. And you always go extravagant.

˗ˏˋ Sometimes, Draken would scold you for how much you spoil your husband.

˗ˏˋ Especially on days when Mikey would run late on training and engine check, all because he refused to leave you in bed.

˗ˏˋ But it's a give and take, really. Considering how much Mikey spoiled you as well.

˗ˏˋ Firstly, he always takes you on his overseas tournaments. You never missed a race, no matter how far it was held.

˗ˏˋ With Draken and Inupi's help, he even made you a motorcycle of your own that looked as stylish as his.

˗ˏˋ The glint in your eyes when you saw it for the first time had paid off, and he immediately took you to a test drive.

˗ˏˋ During your teenage years, you learned how to drive Mikey's CB250T which was basically riding a bike for you. But to drive an actual sports motorcycle was more complicated.

˗ˏˋ Mikey practically wrapped you in safety gear and helmet, protectively wrapping his arms around you as you drove it for the first time.

˗ˏˋ By the end of the day, when you got a hold of its machinery, you and Mikey were cruising down the seaside highway on your own bikes.

˗ˏˋ This then became your favorite date activity— to have joy rides on different corners of the country.

˗ˏˋ However, you sometimes insist on being his passenger, mainly because you get to embrace him for the whole ride. And this is something he couldn't deny.

˗ˏˋ It's usual for Mikey to end the day with worn out or sore limbs, so you always prepare him a bath and give him a massage afterwards.

˗ˏˋ And to this, he thanks you with kisses and invites you into the tub with him.

˗ˏˋMikey's motorcycle isn't the only thing he's good at riding.

˗ˏˋ Considering his intensity of training, the strength in his limbs and core pays off in bed.

˗ˏˋ Making love with Mikey is always an intimate and hot experience for the both of you; as if he's studied every part of your anatomy and how your body reacts to certain touches.

˗ˏˋ and god, his body— it was a sculpture of beauty that made it impossible to hold the thoughts in your head.

˗ˏˋ His hands are skillful in pulling off your clothing too, all while keeping them in one piece no matter how eager he is.

˗ˏˋ Going on days, even weeks without having sex is a regular occurrence to you, considering that he would always be tired from training or tournament when he comes home.

˗ˏˋ But oh, the sex makes it all up.

˗ˏˋ Mikey couldn't hold back any longer. Every part of him is screaming to thrust his way inside your pussy and pound away at it, but another part of him is telling him to take it easy on you, since it's been awhile and all. but he doesn't think he can.

˗ˏˋ He's wanted this all day— to be buried balls deep inside of you, hear how you moan, feel your warm, tight hole suck up his dick.

˗ˏˋ He thrust his hips forward and your pussy took him in inch by inch. You're wet and tight, and feel so goddamn good. You moaned when you felt him all there and that moan is what he's been needing— Sweet, innocent and all his.

˗ˏˋ "Shit, [ Y / N ]," He groaned in your ear. "I won't be able to go easy," He grunted. "Then don't." You hooked an arm around the back of his neck and lifted your legs to his muscular shoulders.

˗ˏˋ That one sentence is about to turn him into a maniac. It's the fuel he needs— the words he never knew he craved.

˗ˏˋ and it did; the bed shook, headboard slamming against the wall and wood creaked with every thrust.

˗ˏˋ “My pretty wife~” He couldn't help but admire your flushed face, his eyes flickering to your breasts that bounced with every thrust.

˗ˏˋ “I love you s'fuking much…” He whimpered, finding his release with one final thrust. You didn't last longer with his sweet praises either and climaxed with him, practically merging your bodies together along with your hot moans and his soft kisses.

˗ˏˋ “I love you too~” you let him rest his head on your chest and comb your fingers through his dark hair.

˗ˏˋ Mikey is practically the ideal spouse one could ask for, and he thinks about how perfect of a wife you are, not able to imagine himself being with someone else. You always wonder how insanely lucky you are to have found each other and to be finally doing something that you both just once dreamt of.

#tokyo revengers #mikey x reader smut #manjiro sano #sano manjiro #sano manjiro x reader smut #sano manjiro x reader #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #mikey smut #manjiro sano smut #mikey x you #mikey x reader #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers smut #mikey #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x reader

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egcdeath · 11 months

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peanut

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you and joel have a blowout argument… over peanut butter.

word count: 600

warnings: don’t read if you have a peanut allergy, borderline crack fic with how unserious joel and the reader are, crunch peanut butter slander, fluff, established relationship, domestic, slice of life, no outbreak, no use of y/n, not edited

authors note: send me a random word or phrase and i’ll write a drabble!

“Joel, what is this?” you were disgusted and appalled as you turned the blue-lidded jar over in your hands. What was meant to be a nice mid-afternoon snack had quickly devolved into a mid-afternoon nightmare as you laid your eyes on that label.

“What do you mean, ‘what is this?’ It’s peanut butter,” Joel dismissed, coming over from where he was lounging on his favorite recliner in his living room to the kitchen island where you were currently assembling yourself a snack. He wasted no time taking the jar from your hands, and evaluating the object that had caused all of this commotion in the first place.

“You’re kidding,” you said with a bit of a quirked brow and a slight squint of your eyes, attempting to gauge whether or not your partner was purposefully fucking with you.

“I’m not. What’s the big issue?” Joel unscrewed the lid and grabbed the knife you had sitting by your pre-jellied slices of bread. “Looks like peanut butter to me.”

“You don’t notice anything… off about it?” you pressed, watching carefully as Joel dipped the knife into the fresh jar and revealed an unappetizing, chunky paste.

“Mm… no? Should I?” from the way Joel made eye contact with you as he ran the now peanut-buttered butter knife against his tongue, you knew he had to be fucking with you.

“No special tastes or textures?” you emphasized, trying to get to the bottom of the situation. There was no way you’d married someone who buys chunky peanut butter on purpose. There was simply no way.

Joel shrugged dismissively once more, but the slight smirk he was sporting told you all that you needed to know. “Not a fan of crunchy peanut butter?” he finally asked, thoroughly entertained by the slack jawed look you were giving him.

“You actually like crunchy peanut butter?” you replied, somehow even more horrified as Joel happily crunched away on his monstrosity of a spread.

“Always have,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t dropping a massive bomb on you.

“No way,” you argued, in a bit of disbelief. If Joel really enjoyed crunchy peanut butter that much, your whole life was a lie. Your whole marriage was a lie! “You’re pulling a prank on me.”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, still seeming quite pleased with himself.

“My God,” you gasped, clutching your chest. ��I don’t even know who you are!”

“Someone with taste,” Joel pushed back, thoroughly entertained with your dramatics.

“You don’t even know how wrong you are,” you scoffed.

“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t you ever get tired of smooth PB?” he asked with a grin, taking pleasure in your horror.

“No, clearly not!” you exclaimed, a bit offended at even the idea of getting tired of such a classic treat.

“Well, I do,” Joel defended himself. “Just try it once. I bet it’s not as bad as you’d think.”

“Oh, I know it’s as bad as I think,” you rebutted, crossing your arms over your chest as you watched Joel dip the knife back into that sinister jar of peanut butter.

“Just try it once,” Joel repeated, inching the knife towards your mouth in the same way that you’d seen him do for your daughter a multitude of times. It seemed like a small miracle that Joel didn’t give you a, ‘Here comes the airplane!’

“If you don’t get that knife out of my face, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” Joel cracked a smile at your reluctance, which only fueled your annoyance more. “Joel. I’m not kidding.”

“Come on,” he sing-songed, amused by just how stubborn you were being. He continued to inch the knife closer and closer to you until you finally accepted your fate, sticking your tongue out unenthusiastically and trying out the peanut butter.

“Alright,” you conceded. It wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be, but you would never tell your partner that—especially with the way that Joel was grinning at you from the other side of the counter. “It was okay. But you’re still sleeping on the couch tonight.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us fic #one word drabbles

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pupcuck · 3 months

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🧸ྀི જ⁀➴ COMMISSIONS !

haiii!!! opening commissions umm used to have them open on my old blog but unfortunately i am still looking for a job a year later LMFAO

pricing

£3 - 1k words

£6 - 2k words

£9 - 3k words

£12 - 4k words

£15 - 5k words

my limit is 5k words purely because a lot of my writing is choppy and im unsure of how long it would take me to write more than 5k! if you’re willing to pay more to get me to write more I will not say no 😭

if you do want 5k words, please give me a substantial plot :3

i will write selfships like oc x character or simply reader x character. i can write threesomes with two characters x oc or two ocs x charcter but no more than that. i can write mxm mxf fxm literally anything goes

i will not write underage, scat, beastiality, knife play and race play. i am happy to write alluding to suicide or self harm but not happy going into graphic detail about self harm in specific. i will not write about restrictive eds.

i will write smut, fluff, angst, incest and non-con/rape, psychical violence, misogyny, domestic violence, weight control and basically anything that’s not in the section above! i am best with dark content :3

i am allowed to say no to commissions but as long as these guidelines are followed it will be fine :3

if you want to know more specifics or ask questions just dm me!

i will write for resident evil, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, devil may cry, rdr and chainsaw man for now :3 you’re welcome to bring up a fandom/character with me and if i know them i can try my hand at it!

characters i can write for

re: leon kennedy, luis sera, claire redfield, carlos oliveira, jill valentine, chris redfield, ashley graham, albert wesker, rebecca chambers, ada wong, helena harper, jake muller, sherry birkin, jack krauser

tr: any character as long as they have had like more than one speaking line or been in more than one chapter 😭 most comfy w baji, tora, hanma and chifuyu

csm: same for here too! as long as they have had more than a chapter with them in it… best with kishibe, himeno and quanxi

dmc: 4 now dante, trish, lady, nero and vergil

rdr: arthur, john, sadie, hosea, dutch, lenny, javier, micah, jack, charles, abigail, molly, trelawny

to commission me: please dm me first and discuss your idea with me! payments will be accepted through my kofi :3

tips are always appreciated too but never expected!

my ko-fi

#🏩.diary #commissions #kofi commission

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sprout-fics · 1 year

Text

Woodsmoke (Joel Miller x F! Reader x Joe 'Bear' Graves)

Chapter One: Kindling

Read (Here) on AO3

Masterlist

Rating: Mature (Rating will change) Word Count: 6.6k Warnings: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault (Non-explicit) Tags: Character Study, Angst (Literally so much angst), AU- Canon divergence, Sheep Farmer Joel Miller, Patrolman Joe 'Bear' Graves, Domesticity, PTSD, Night Terror, Love confessions, Rejection, Mutual Pining A/N: So this started off as me wanting to write PWP with Joel and Bear, and then it became smut with context, and now we're here at a three part chracter study that also includes porn, thank you for witnessing my descent into madness. Also a huge shoutout to @soapskneebrace @guyfieriii and @writeforfandoms for listening to my absolutely unhinged raving and ranting about this series. I don't know how I could have done this without you all

Summary:

When spring comes, it melts away the frost, blooms lilac and pink in the hills, and in your heart as well. Like the slow, steady drip of thawing glacier, the interior of your soul at last becomes revealed to you once more. Vivid and bright like forsythia, like jonquils and the first flowers of spring, it unfurls its delicate petals, turns towards the sun.

It's Joel, your heart reveals to you with a tender whisper. Joel, with his steadying and unflinching gaze, his brown eyes the same color of your coffee, his hands that speak of experience, of raw ability. It's Joel, who knocks on your door as you get ready for bed and murmurs a quiet goodnight, his eyes always resting on yours with words he doesn't speak. Joel, with his deep voice like raw timber, his presence a towering, gnarled oak tree that refuses to be felled.

You think you love him.

You don't think you can have him.

How it starts, you don't know. How it begins, however is with you.

With you, with the first time you see the sheep ranch nestled at the very edge of Jackson’s territory, at a distance. Atop the hill that descends into the valley below, your eyes trace across the grey and white bits of fluff that dot the hilly pasture. The cold autumn wind rakes through your hair, bites against your cheeks, freezes against your chapped lips. The reins in your hand feel like steel, tough, clutched tightly in your nervous, anxious grip.

Beside you, Tommy eyes you as you take in the sight before you. A few pastures. A barn, a chicken house, a garden, and atop the other side of the valley- a house. Quaint, quiet, a watchtower of the farm below.

Tommy breathes through his nose, his mare shifting with a little chuff that seems to match her rider's contemplation. He's been quiet for most of the journey, offering only small conversation in response to your quiet inquiries about your destination.

"He's a loner." Tommy tells you, and his eyes are soft, a little broken when he speaks of his brother, the man who would be your employer. There's bitterness there that you recognize, even if you don't really understand.

"He's not...mean." He goes on, even though he hesitates over his elaboration. "He just prefers the quiet is all."

You nod, voice silent. It took months for you to learn how to speak again, and even now the simple act feels too heavy, too awkward.

It had been the better part of a year since you'd arrived at Jackson

It had been Tommy who had found you, out on patrol with the other riders, stumbling upon your form half-buried by snow, curled into the ground. Starving, confused, injured, scared, waiting to die so the earth would swallow you whole. Yet instead of letting you succumb to frost, Tommy had taken you back, allowed the doctors in Jackson to nurse you back to health.

In body, at least. Maybe not in soul.

Tommy leads the way down the steep slope ahead of you, leaning back in his saddle as his mare picks along the barest hint of a path down towards the ranch. You follow him, feeling your breath fog across your face, a warm puff before it dissipates into steam. All the while you steal glances away from the trail ahead of you and towards the livestock dotting the hillside, the grass turning an ashen green as the season inexorably change once more.

Tommy leads you not to the house atop the hill, but rather to a cabin at the bottom of the valley. It's braced against the edge of a tree line that trickles into the dip between the hills, and if you listen above the wind you think you hear a brook there. Yet your attention is drawn to the cabin itself, with its wood walls and stone chimney, from which woodsmoke pours forth. You can smell it, the scent obscured by the raw, frigid taste of oncoming frost. It lingers across your tongue even as Tommy dismounts, ascends the steps, fist raised to knock on the door.

It opens before he gets the chance.

The man that answers the door looks older, worn. Greys dot his temples, his short beard. There's lines across his face that speak less of age and more of grief, a time spent witnessing horrors you yourself have not yet seen. Yet his eyes glint with a keen awareness, a clarity bred by experience. Wary. Ready.

He stands occupying the broad space of the doorway, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, grease caught across his knuckles. There's a furrow in his brow, as if he's annoyed by the interruption to whatever project he has occupied himself with. Yet when his eyes take in Tommy his face relaxes into something vaguely resembling a smile, and he manages to smear the majority of grease away from his palm before clasping it to his brother's.

"Tommy." Is all he says in greeting, but there's a warmth there, a familiarity that briefly has your heart threaten to crack, wishing selfishly someone would regard you that way too.

"Joel." Tommy replies, his tone light, pleased before he turns to reveal you, standing a ways away with the horses. "Brought you a visitor. Meet your new farmhand."

You shift a little where you stand, not making any motion to venture closer, instead offering a timid 'Hello' that seems to be swallowed by the wind.

Joel regards you silently, continuing to wipe his hands on his rag, eyes taking you in silently, cataloguing the uneasiness in your stance, your darting eyes, tense shoulders. yet he doesn't remark on it, doesn't offer so much as a greeting, instead seeming to mull your very presence over in his mind. Contemplating, considering.

"It's cold." Is all he says after moments that seem like hours. "Fire's warm."

With that he turns inside in a silent gesture for you to follow, offering little else in the strangest introduction you've yet to encounter. Absent of expectations or forced niceties, his words saying all that need to be said, and yet somehow containing multitudes.

It is, you come to learn, very much like him.

----

Joel puts you to work immediately, and you quickly learn just how desperately he needed another pair of hands on the ranch.

Your chores begins before dawn most days, the cold of the misty mornings clinging to your skin as you warm yourself by the stove as it crackles to life under Joel's care. You dress by the scant sunlight that seeps over the hilly horizon, step outside into the dewy air and watch your breath fog up and away into the dove grey sky.

The day starts with collecting eggs from the hen house, feeding the chickens, ensuring no creatures have made it past the wire fencing that protects them from predators lurking in the woods. Breakfast is simple fare, quick, not meant to be lingered upon before the work of the day begins in earnest.

There's few words spoken between you and Joel as the sun rises. You understand quickly he's not typically one for conversation unless prompted. He doesn't mince words, prefers to say what needs to be said and then to follow through with whatever he's spoken. It's a gruff, curt personality that might grind with a more extroverted, conversational person. For you, with your quiet, contemplative demeanor, it suits you well. You, like Joel, prefer to speak through actions rather than words, let your hands occupy your thoughts and chase away the memories that linger there.

So you do just that, involving yourself in the momentum that carries the weight away. You toss down hay from the hayloft, herd the sheep out of the barn in the morning, mend the fences, pull weeds from the garden. You sweep the kitchen as Joel cleans the dinner dishes, you chop firewood for the crackling hearth, gather kindling at the edge of the forest but never venture beyond the tree line as Joel tells you.

Joel gives you space for the first few weeks. Yet he isn't without attention. You find that he's quick to notice when you need something, even if you're hesitant to ask for it. It's as if he sees you in a way you aren't familiar with, discerning your hesitation and inward reflection like an extension of himself. His responses come less in the form of words and more in the form of offerings. An extra blanket for your bed. Another pair of socks. Fixing the shades in your bedroom so the light doesn't seep in, refilling the kerosene in your bedside lamp. It's simple but meaningful gestures, absent of words that somehow fills the unfamiliar space between you two.

"It's okay." They seem to whisper to you, as you lay wide-eyed, awake in your bed at night. "You can stay. I don't mind. You can ask. Take your time."

You never speak to Joel of the circumstances that have led you here, not even when you slowly begin to find your voice again, when words between you two become easier, less forced. Yet Joel somehow seems to know what's happened to you anyways, and you can't help but wonder if he was able to see it from the very start.

There's glimpses you see in him, his eyes becoming distant at times, as if staring into the past. It's as if he's lived your life before you, can see the scenes of his own regret play out in shadowy phantoms across his vision. You feel it in yourself, in the way memories cling to you as night like parasitic fungi, creeping with slow, sinister growth along your veins, old wounds that have yet to heal.

If Joel hears you whimper and cry in your sleep, he doesn't say. Yet in the mornings, after the nightmares have ended but still occupy your shadow, he's gentler. Softer. Extra milk in your coffee, his voice less gruff, allowing you extra time before the mornings begin so you can shed the last of your sorrows.

Slowly, with time, they're chased away by daylight.

You bury the remnants of them with motion, purpose. Joel made it clear from the start you weren't there to freeload.

"Two rules." He told you the first night you were alone, the washed dinner plates stacked to dry, the hearth crackling warmly and filling the silence.

"The first." He begins, and you can hear the age in his voice. Gritty, choked on memories like charcoal. "Is that you do what I say, when I say it, understand?"

His eyes meet yours, and you stare into them, losing yourself for a moment in his brown, keen-eyed stare. You wonder if there was a softness there once, find yourself trying to imagine what it must have looked like.

"This is to keep us safe." He explains, hands clasped together on the aged, wooden table, fingers grazing over worn knuckles. "Just because Jackson runs patrols doesn't mean it's entirely safe out here. I'm your employer, you're my responsibility now, so you listen to me when I tell you to do something, clear?"

You nod in silence, eyes shifting away from him to your mug of weak tea that's long since cooled.

"Clear." You reply, voice soft, a little distant.

Joel nods out of the corner of your eyes, as if to himself. Then his voice raises again.

"The second." He continues, voice maintaining that gruff, even tone. There's a hint of an accent there you try to place but come up empty-handed. Yet it softens, is joined by an indiscernible sigh, a shift of his shoulders that eases into the cracks of your soul. "Is that if you ever need something, all you need to do is ask."

You look at him then, eyes blinking, lips parting, trying to place the strange, sudden wash of feeling that murmurs between your ribs. Joel's stare remains unchanged, but the gentleness of his statement lingers, suspended between you both. An entreaty, an offering.

Slowly, something within you rouses, long laying dormant within the recesses of your grief. A gentle glimpse of color before it's gone again.

"Clear." You tell him, and this time your voice softens too, for the first time allowing yourself to open, unfold within his unwavering, focused gaze.

----

It's quiet, that first year. Joel is closed off, distant in a way that's not entirely unfamiliar to you. You can see the scars on him, even the ones he refuses the bare. It's hard not to see, with the way that his history is written across his eyes.

You don't ask why he can hardly hear from one ear, why he only ever sleeps on his right side. You don't ask about how he knows about how to pour the foundation for a new shed meant to store food for the winter. You don't ask about how he survived this long, why he wants the quiet solitude of the Wyoming steppes compared to the bustle of Jackson.

You don't ask the question everyone seems to ask people like the two of you.

What happened to you? What made you like this?

In turn, Joel doesn't ask you of your own past, of the mistakes and fatal flaws that led to that moment of solemn, fateful near death, your would-be grave a shimmering, white tomb of frost. Nor do you offer them. There's no changing the past now, and even though the screams of the damned still torment you in the witching hours of night, they're just that- ghosts.

They can't hurt you anymore.

Though you don't speak of your past, you do speak. Slowly at first, then with more ease. Joel seems surprised at first, even though the change is gradual. More than once you see him pause what he's doing, turn to you, blinking as he processes your remark about chores, the weather, what to eat for dinner. Utilitarian conversation that seems to mirror his own words.

He, like you, doesn't speak much, doesn't feel pressed to fill the silence. He's more than happy to simply coexist, his hands working alongside yours, his voice directing you with his steadying, unwavering presence. Like a lantern in the mist, the glow of him feels hazy, distant, and yet somehow still there, a signal as you wander in search of yourself.

You watch him, sometimes, over the edges of the worn paperbacks you read in the evening as the fire glows low. The orange flames catch across his face, reveal there the shadows of the things he doesn't say. He stares into the flames like they yield answers he doesn't have. There's a striking gravity there in his gaze, one that pulls you inwards, down into him, causes color to flutter in your heart. Sorrowful, unsummoned, and yet somehow alive.

You gather him in bits and pieces, like sifting for gold along a streambank. The sediment washes away, and what's left there is glimmering dust that catches and glints in the sunlight.

He has a daughter, that you already knew. Ellie is her name. You think you met her once back in Jackson on a misty grey morning where you paced the perimeter in solitude, basking in the absence of others. She'd muttered a brief greeting to you as she blew warmth into her hands, sidling past you towards the direction of the school. Bright eyed, brown haired, dimpled. She looks nothing like him.

Then again, you suppose you're all orphans of the apocalypse.

You meet her once more several weeks into your new residency, ferried there by Tommy. She peeks over his shoulder from where she sits behind him in the saddle, her face faltering when she sees you helping Joel mend the fence of the western pasture.

It's the first time you see Joel nervous, his hands fidgeting, seeking purchase on something that isn't there. You don't understand, eyes darting from him to the girl he's fostered, taught to survive in a cruel world. Yet then he clears his throat, introduces you to her with slow, halting words and you think you see it, the way he seems to look for Ellie's approval.

Ellie regards you warily at first, and like Joel her eyes seem to see more than she lets on, glinting at you as she takes several, heavy moments to judge you by your presence alone.

"Hi." She says at last, and her smile is soft, yet still somehow sincere. "I'm Ellie."

You almost miss Joel's sigh beside you, breathed into the coming winter wind.

His relief is well-placed. Ellie seems to take a shine to you. You happily listen to her ramble about her schooling in Jackson, about her distaste for her teachers, to her pleads for Joel to just homeschool her because "who needs school anyways?" You let her tell you terrible puns from a journal where she's scrawled the jokes with slanted, rushed handwriting. You follow her as she insists you accompany her to survey the ewes, climbing in the hayloft and attempting to hang from the rafters.

You don't notice the way Joel's eyes soften as you smile.

It's only on the third day of Ellie's visit, the morning of her departure, where she turns to you as Tommy and Joel talk next to the horses. Her arms wrap around your middle, head pressed to your chest, the embrace lasting for all of a moment before she pulls away again.

"Thank you." She tells you, eyes gazing up at you, clear and unwavering in a way you've come to recognize. "For taking care of him."

You freeze, eyes wide, lips parted, trying to process what she's just said. Yet you don't get the chance, because suddenly she's striding towards Tommy with a holler of "Let's get this show on the road!" and you're left alone, caught within the imbalance of her words.

No, you think. It was the other way around. You, you were the one who was taken care of, so you could be saved from yourself.

By him.

Things become different after that. It's as if Ellie's presence, her fondness of you has lifted an unknown weight from Joel's shoulders. Where before you could see cracks in him, now you can see the sunlight that dares to seep through, past the heartache and the grief he carries within.

Slowly, you too begin to change.

You're not sure what does it, whether it was Ellie, Joel, or the thaw of spring that relents the boundaries of your heart, unfolds them like snowdrops, born anew.

It's your voice that fills the silence now. Soft, soothing, still somehow endearingly shy yet undeniably kind. You turn your face to the wind, listen to the sound, try and discern the whispers it speaks to you. As the mountains turn green and lush, so too does your smile, a gentle thing that catches the sunlight and imbues it into your soul.

Joel smiles more too. You're not sure why, but you see it sometimes. When you appear from the hayloft with straw caught in your hair, when you hum a forgotten tune over the sink as you do dishes, when he sees you bolt after the lamb that escapes through the fencing, he smiles.

It always catches you a bit off guard, the way his mouth puckers, tugs the corner of his lips. Yet there's something in his stare that feels strangely like familiarity, of warmth, and you find yourself longing after it. You wish somehow you could trace that too into your soul, allow it to fill the cracks there like a balm, erase all the old wounds that linger with a bitter, sour aftertaste.

Joel remains at a distance from you, even though he seems more relaxed now. There's things he doesn't say, things he refuses to let you see. His words, though perhaps provided more often, remain enigmatic. Short, clipped, you come to realize he says what he means, but means far more than he can say.

Yet there's times when Joel is closer somehow, outstretching a hand to keep you from stumbling over a pit in the pasture, helping you down from the hayloft when the ladder breaks, crouching with you over a newborn lamb as it takes its first breath. There's something different in him in those moments. His eyes shine a little brighter, the draw of his face changes, his voice gets firm in a way that's less of a reprimand and more of concern. You can tell, the way he looks out for you without words.

Things get easier after that first year. Joel lets you gently shoo him from the kitchen when you've had enough of his poorly seasoned cooking to last a lifetime. He lets you wander further from the farm when you have the time, venturing into the woods to check the snares he's set. He comes with you when you hike to the top of the valley in search of wild spring onions, makes no complaint about his tender muscles. He tends to you when you come down with pneumonia, and in your listless, sickened state you think you hear him murmur the words "It's going to be okay."

Slowly, you unravel him. He smiles more often, albeit rarely. You get him to groan at terrible jokes and convince him to trade for art supplies and books for you. He listens to you when you suggest sheepdogs, and then forgives you when the mutt runs off into the woods within the first week to never return.

In the evenings, he sits closer, makes you a mug of tea without asking. He pushes the mug into your hands with little fanfare, and you learn it's through gestures that he says what he means the most.

"I want you here." The steam of the mug whispers to you silently. "Things are...easier with you here."

Yet there's unspoken words that remains between you despite that. You see it in the way he averts his eyes too quickly when you dry off from the bath, the way he watches you when you smile into the summer sunlight. You see it when you strip your jacket during the blazing heat of summer and he coughs suddenly, feigns breathlessness. You see it in his smile when you hold a tiny, baby chick in your hands, eyes glimmering with something akin to hope.

You see it when he warns you to get inside as a courier lets his eyes roam over you in a way that makes your skin crawl.

It's a messenger from another outlying settlement, one you've never seen before. Young, brawny, his smile a little too wide as he greets you from atop his horse, dismounts before you can stammer a greeting and extends his hand to you.

You freeze. There's something about his eyes, the way they don't meet your own, the way they seem to fixate on other parts of you. It summons a vile reminder of things that once were, and you feel your breath catch between your ribs, too shallow, too cold-

"Get inside." Joel tells you, and his calloused hand tightens on your shoulder just a fraction, not enough for anyone but the both of you to notice. The deep, gruff rumble of his voice in your ear conveys all the meaning you mean to hear. Familiar, it whispers to you: Danger. Threat. Listen to me. I'll protect you. I'll keep you safe. Don't ignore me.

"Now." Joel growls, and he pulls away enough to give you a look that lasts a millisecond, too short to go noticed by the courier.

You nod at him, but the prickle of peril still skims across your flesh, nipping in a shallow bite. Tasting, teasing, a parting augury that leaves you shivering as you turn in the direction of the cabin.

The courier's eyes never leave you, not even as his conversation with Joel continues, his voice a lazy drawl compared to Joel's clipped, brusque replies. Your skin crawls, and you feel his stare rake over you with a slimy, lasting touch. Putrid, unwanted, vile. Your hands shake.

You cast a glance behind you once you reach the porch steps, and blink when you find Joel crowding closer to the younger man, fists curled at his side. There's a look that passes over the courier's face then, brow knotted and lips turning into a displeased sneer.

For a moment you turn, ready to go back and intervene in the building confrontation. Yet then you see Joel's shoulders rise as he speaks and the courier's face drops, goes ashen and slack at whatever it is Joel has just said to him. The threat, though you can't hear it, hangs heavy suspended between them. You can see it, the way the younger man looks at Joel with a brief, vulnerable expression of fear.

He swallows, shuffles for a moment before tipping his hat at you in a brief but abashed farewell. Then he's getting on his horse, trembling hands grabbing the reins and turning back towards the hill from whence he came.

"What did you say to him?" You ask Joel when he eventually paces over towards the porch, his shoulders still taut, frown creased across his face. He peels off his work gloves, stuffs them hastily in his back pocket as he brushes past you. You think he won't give you an answer, leave you wondering as to what words he spoke to the man who dared to look at you the way he did.

Joel pauses with his hand on the door handle, still facing away from you. He stays there for a moment, and you watch as the rage eases from his shoulders.

"I told him." He says, voice low, reeking of an imminent tempest, a fury he keeps simmered down low, deep inside himself, ready to boil at a moment's notice.

"I told him if he ever looked at you again I'd pop his goddamn kneecap off."

The door stays ajar behind him, and you're left alone, the autumn wind breathing cold across your nape.

Yet warmth blooms within you, a familiar yet distorted dissension to the icy threat of Joel's words. Rather than settle in your bones with a lurid freeze, Joel's warning instead summons an affection like the proximity of a hearth, ensconced within the promise of his protection.

"I've got you." The heat in your chest murmurs in conjunction with his voice. "I'll keep you safe. Don't think I won't."

You follow him, tracing his back with your gaze, and thinking somehow that you might follow him anywhere if he asked you.

---

The months drag on. Winter is harsh that year, the snow falling gracefully yet accumulating with sinister depth. The fire never stops, and it's on more than one night that you and Joel both abandon your bedrooms and sleep in the main room, closer to the woodstove so the freeze doesn't come for you in sleep. It's on those nights that you awake with an extra blanket draped over you, that Joel walks a little stiffly the next morning, grumbles about the cold irritating his joints.

The blanket smells like him.

It's on one of those nights, where the wind howls and sleet batters at the windows that you shiver under your covers, and the nightmares come creeping past your defenses. Like frost, they grow across the planes of your thoughts, extending, fissuring out and reminding you of that time, of an unearthly, blank, white grave. You sink into it, watch through snowflake covered lashes as the world shimmers with pristine, powdery glimmer, even as your heartbeat slows, your vision fades.

It's on one of those nights that there's hands that seize you in your sleep and you struggle against them with a whimper of "No, please, not again-"

"Hey."

It's Joel's voice that breaks through the ice, hauls you from the depths of exposure and into wakefulness once more.

"It's me." He says when you feebly push at him, mind still trying to discern its own direction, tears burning the corner of your eyes. "It's me. I've got you."

Your vision, wavering and watery, meets his gaze. Brown eyed, brow knotted, hands on either side of your face as he wills you to see, to hear him. You can only cling to him, eyes wide, unseeing, mind a cacophony of screams and sickening, bloody impacts until there's only a cavern of blank, snowy silence that rings between your ears.

"It's over." Joel tells you, voice deep, a grinding whisper tinted with an emotion you can't place. His eyes have a look you haven't seen before, and it takes you a moment to place it.

Fear.

"You're here." He murmurs, keeping your eyes facing forward, into his own. "Safe."

The dying embers of the woodstove flicker across your glassy eyes, and the vision fades, resumes into the now with Joel's thumb stroking across your cold, wet cheek. You shiver into his grip as the nightmares fades, a ghost of a past that's long since transpired, but leaves scars echoing endlessly within the prison of your mind.

Neither of you fall asleep again that night, words unspoken into the silence but presences merging, blending together in the darkness until daylight at last breaks over the horizon.

If Joel is different at that night, you can't tell. He keeps his short, gruff way about you, offers what he needs to, busies his hands with the work to be done. He doesn't remark upon the truth he saw in your eyes and words that night, simply absorbs that truth into himself and keeps moving in the way all survivors do. You find yourself wishing you could do the same, could burrow the hurt down deep so it sleeps, hibernates there until spring, whenever that may come.

Yet when a rake falls loudly in the barn, when a gunshot rings out in the woods from a neighboring hunter, when you hear a coyote scream at night, he's there. Wordlessly, his eyes slide over to your tensed, ashen expression and his voice becomes soft, a reassurance of security, of protection.

"It's just the wind." He tells you when a gale lashes at the windows, clatters against the panes. His hands don't cease as they prod the fire, but his eyes turn to you- looking, waiting, expectant. It's only when you nod that he returns his focus elsewhere, ensures the unease in your bones has settled.

It's in that way that you know. Regardless of whether Joel speaks it or not, somewhere along the way he's decided you're one of his own. Someone to reassure, to protect, to keep safe, even from the doubts of the past.

This is where you're meant to stay, you realize. Here, with him.

It's a realization that feels like relief, hopeful like the lambs that bounce through the meadows and the hatchlings that nest in the eaves of the porch. It feels like a rebirth, like a renewal of yourself as you at last realize the true extent of your feelings.

You think you love him.

You think, in another life, you could have been his.

You aren't so bold as to offer him advances, the emotions in your chest too fragile, too fleeting. Yet you do ease around him in a way you haven't before. Sitting next to him on the couch, daring to cover his hand with yours as he reaches for something in the cabinet, stepping closer to point out a hole he missed in the chicken wiring, your breath ghosting over his nape.

He doesn't miss these gestures, you know he doesn't. Joel is too aware to not see them, has too many years struggling to survive in a cruel world to not notice this gentle easiness of yours. Yet he never makes mention of it, never takes the chance to step closer, to narrow the strange distance between you. You don't understand it, can't comprehend why he insists on not venturing nearer to you. It remains one of the things you'll never know about him, why he looks at you with such tenderness and yet refuses to let you come closer.

"I'm too old for this." He groans as you both lay panting in the pasture after wrangling the flock's ram back into the field after his daring escape. "I need to retire."

You huff, something akin to a laugh, staring up at the summer cumulus clouds that roll white and puffy across and egg-shell blue sky.

"I'll stay here, even if you do." You tell him honestly, smiling, feeling for once like you can see into the future ahead of you. You turn to look at him, hair mussed, eyes bright but warm. "I don't want to be anywhere else."

He looks at you then, and the color in your heart wilts to sepia at the emotion that flickers across his face.

Guilt.

It stabs at you, like a blade in the dark, the razor-sharp edge glinting from a campfire. Your face falls, your stomach drops, and distantly, you think you can hear the sound of your heart cracking at the edges.

He doesn't want you.

There's a deep, lurking, sinister shadow that wonders if anyone ever will.

You try not to dwell on it, even as it slowly consumes you as the days drag on. Doubt festers in your veins, like spores sticking to the edges of your skin, your distant, unfocused eyes.

You lay awake at night, days later, deciding to step outside into the summer air to breath, release your demons into the night sky.

It's only then that you see the orange glow on the horizon, wake Joel with your rising, panic shouts.

Joel stumbles out of his room, eyes quickly clearing of drowsiness as he too looks towards the sight before you.

"Get dressed." He tells you, sleep still clogging his voice. "It's the Johnsons. Something's caught fire."

You follow his command wordlessly, and it's within ten minutes that the two of you are riding over the lip of the valley, speeding in direction of the next farm over.

You arrive too late.

The barn is a single flame against the night sky as you arrive, and the farm's two owners hold each other not far away. Contents of their house are strewn about them. The smell of smoke and blood thickens at the back of your throat.

"Raiders." The wife tells you, voice less of a wail and more of a shattered, trembling whisper. It's all that needs to be said.

You and Joel see to them, spend the day helping them gather the remainders of the farm. You don't arrive back at the cabin until sundown, skin chalky with ash, hands chaffed, form slumped with fatigue. Yet it's not even two steps into the door before Joel turns to you, eyes severe, steely, holding back a fury spawned by fear.

"I'm leaving." Is all he says. "In the morning. Gotta tell Tommy about what's happened."

You feel a low murmur of terror gurgle in your stomach at the idea of being left alone when danger lurks beyond the edges of the valley, at the idea of him going by himself.

"Let me come with you." You try, but he shakes his head.

"No." Is all he gives you. "I need you to stay here. Guard the farm. I'll lock everything up before I go."

Then his eyes soften, and he breathes a sigh as he looks at you, sees the anxiety rising in your gaze.

"I won't be long." He murmurs then, voice dipping. "Just keep that shotgun safe, like I showed you. I'll be back soon."

You know you can't argue with him, stubborn as he is. Besides, he's right. Someone needs to stay. Someone needs to make the journey. One of you has to go. You both know it's him.

So, you watch him, the next morning, watching from the porch as he ascends the edge of the valley, tracing his back until he's nothing more than a speck that vanishes over the rise.

True to his word, Joel arrives back the next afternoon, and on his tail is an entire company of riders. Spooked as you are, you at first think they're raiders, forcing him to lead them back to the farm. You stand on the porch with a shotgun, hands trembling until Joel at last dismounts, approaches you like he would a wild, scared animal.

"It's alright." He murmurs, and makes you lower the weapon as the rest of the group stands at a safe distance. His hands are cold, yet familiar as they touch you, ground you from your own rapid heartbeat.

"Security." He tells you simply as you eye the group warily. They regard you respectfully, eyes shifting from you to Joel and then back again, tall atop their horses, murmuring to each other in low voices.

There's around five of them, hard in the eyes, fit, strong. They're all younger than Joel by a number of years. Their weapons lay across their laps or on their saddles. You can tell at a single glance that they're soldiers by training. You know the look. You've seen the same expression in the eyes of FEDRA soldiers. Focused, disciplined, rife with a cold, calculating instinct.

Your eyes flick from them to Joel, and at last you relax, shoulders dropping all of an inch, letting him take the shotgun from you.

It's only then that they begin to dismount, talking amongst themselves and offering you linger, skeptical glances, as if encountering traces of a predator in the woods. Yet there's one of the group that hands his reins to the man beside him, approaches you both with slow, measured steps.

He's the once you noticed first, with his towering stature and set jaw. A short beard and thick brows frame his face, shoulders tight with coiled strength. There's an air to him that seems more acute, more potent than the rest of his men. Somehow, it warns of danger.

He removes his hat as he nears the two of you, holds it over his heart in a humble greeting.

"Ma'am." He offers with a nod.

"This is Joe Graves." Joel tells you, one hand still cupping your elbow. Steadying, grounding.

"You can call me 'Bear'." He adds and gives you a smile that pierces through the remnants of frenetic, panicked anxiety. "They boys and I all have callsigns.

"Hello." You offer at last politely, voice a little quiet, guarded. Bear only nods at you, seems to take your hesitancy in stride, his smile not faltering. It's warm, understanding, and it's as if he senses the unsteadiness in you, waits patiently for you to right yourself.

Your chest flutters.

"The boys and I are going to take good care of your farm." He tells you, voice measured but easy. "If you ever need anything from us, don't hesitate to ask."

You blink at him, feel his words siphon away the fear, the uncertainty that dwells between your ribs.

"Thank you...Bear." You tell him, voice muted but betraying your gratitude, your slow unwinding tension at his tone with you. Entreating, patient, void of expectations.

There's something that glimmers in his eyes then, and you catch it for only a moment. A spark, a hope, an interest you can't yet decipher. It feels like it coats you in a smattering of glimmer dust, leaving behind a warm, hazy glow that catches in your stare.

You know that look.

"Don't worry." It says. "Take your time. There's no rush. I won't come closer unless you want me to. I'll stay right here until you're ready."

Like the bloom of springtime, color once again unfurls in your heart.

#TLOU #Joel miller #the last of us #joe bear graves #Joel miller x reader #Joe bear graves x reader #reader insert #fic: woodsmoke #AHHHHHH ITS FINISHED

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yokohamabeans · 1 year

Text

Chapter 5: cowherd and weaver

We know how the story ends: in all versions of it, the crane leaves her lover in tears.

(In which: Kakuchō meets you at his worst. Eight years later, you meet him at yours.)

Pairings: Kakuchō x F!OC/Reader (ft. Haitani Ran x F!OC/Reader)

Series Tags / TW & CW / Notes: Dark/Mature Themes, Bonten!Timeline (or rather, pre-Bonten / Rise of Bonten Era), TR Manga Spoilers, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Organized Crime, Blood & Violence, Mentions of Domestic Abuse, Japanese Culture, OC will have a name but this will largely be written in 2nd POV, Character Study, Hostessing & Forced Prostitution, etc.

(WC: ~7.5k)

Series Index | Read on AO3 here!

The summer heat peaks with each passing day. There’s a sheen of sweat on your skin and you worry that even with the air-conditioning turned all the way up, this junky old van will not get any cooler. Discomfort you can bear with, but not the risk of Pierre suffering a heat stroke. His panting is becoming rather noisy and short-nosed dogs like him run hot easily—though perhaps his loud heaving ought to be pinned on the excitement of riding shotgun, watching other cars and buildings and people whiz by. You give his soft, floppy ears a fond rub and ask him to relax.

You never wanted Pierre. But like a seed he’d been blown in by the wind, and you just couldn’t bring the axe down on this sprout that had taken root in your life. He was a gift from a customer: Yamamoto-san had asked to meet at a café and, to your surprise and horror, pulled a puppy by its scruff out from a bag. It was the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen—it had a face that caved into its massive head at the nose and bulbous eyes that were set so far apart it couldn’t even look straight. Girls love cute pets, right? How Yamamoto–san thought he could win your affections by dumping such a burden on you is still a mystery till this day. Clearly, he didn’t think much of an animal’s life. But because he was spending just enough at Murasaki, your only choice was to take the hideous pest off his hands. You excused yourself and headed for the pet shop immediately.

I’d like to make a return, you told the staff at XJ Land, setting the little runt down. I can’t care for it.

Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you got him. The man at the counter barely hid his disdain. Sorry, but this isn’t a place for fickle returns.

Someone gave it to me—I didn’t ask for this. You didn’t appreciate his tone but you understood the sentiments behind it. You matched his face to some pictures on the shelves behind and concluded that he owned the shop. C’mon, Matsuno-san, you read from his name-tag, cocking your head in the way that guaranteed you another round of drinks from your clients. I’m just thinking about what’s best for this dog. He’ll be better off back in those arms of yours… Won’t you take him in? Can’t you consider it a favour?

The young man sighed, muttering something extreme under his breath about how humans deserve nothing good, but picked the puppy up with blushing cheeks nonetheless. Do you have the certificate of ownership? Or the receipt?

Well, no, you replied rather sheepishly, I was simply told this is the shop he’s from.

He shook his head and inspected the tiny dog in an attempt to identify it. You couldn't help but notice that even though he was being perfectly gentle and careful, the animal was frightened to its bones from being handled by yet another stranger. It bore its sad, pathetic eyes into yours, as if trying to worm its way into your heart. Too bad, you almost sneered, but that old trick won't work on me.

And yet, you couldn't look away.

Sorry, lady, but he isn’t from my shop, Matsuno finally said. You’ll need to check with whoever bought him again. Or better yet, why don’t you give him a chance?

I can’t take care of a pet in my life now. But neither could you risk offending Yamamoto-san, though your respect for him had all but vanished. Are you sure he isn’t from here?

I know every single one of my pets, and I only have pedigrees so far. He tried to calm the puppy down with a hug. This little guy looks like a Jatzu.

It was still shivering. What’s a Jatzu?

A cross between a Japanese Chin and Shih Tzu, he answered, then sized you up and ventured: It’s a ‘designer’ dog, if you care about that sorta thing. You couldn’t blame him for his assumption because you knew how you appeared with your dress and make-up.

This dog doesn’t look anything like a Shih Tzu, you retorted. Your mother used to talk about keeping one in her village a long, long time ago, so you were aware of the breed. Looks like pure Chin to me. How can you tell?

Your question lifted the frown off Matsuno, who fortunately took it as a sign of interest rather than an accusation. He proceeded to demonstrate by pointing out the length of its body and shortness of its legs. Something about the texture of its coat too. The more he spoke, the brighter his blue eyes shone, and soon it became too late for you to stop him from sharing everything he knew about the dog. By the time he remembered to breathe, he’d delivered a full pitch about why you should bring it home. Even you had to admire how hard he was trying to sell a product that wasn’t even his in the first place.

Did you know? Both the Chin and Shih Tzu were once treated as royal pets in East Asia, he added excitedly. The Shih Tzu were especially precious to the Chinese for bringing good luck and fortune. See this white patch between his eyes? That’s where the Buddha kissed him. That makes him a blessed dog who’ll protect you from evil!

What a load of bull. If that were true, your mother never would’ve met your father. Your aunt, who presumably shared the same dog in their village, would've won more than she lost at every casino she went to. Your life could've turned out entirely different—maybe you wouldn't even exist! This misfortune is intergenerational. You’ve got a pretty useless cousin somewhere, huh? you thought wryly at the mutt, catching its pitiful gaze again. Trust me, pal, you don’t want in on my life. There’s nothing good for you here.

It gave a small whine, which you'd liked to think was mere coincidence, and Matsuno ran a soothing palm over its massively deformed head. It really was an ugly dog. You simply couldn’t find anything adorable about it. In fact, it was a painful sight, looking like it was bred to suffer. Its marbly eyes were always watery, likely from the discomfort of sticking so far out its skull, and it was hard to fathom how it could eat or drink from its flat face without choking. Even breathing must've been a chore with how squashed its nose was! And this was a designer dog, wasn’t it? So, this anatomical tragedy was by design, by fancy!

You could empathise now: this poor creature was born to live out a nightmare. All because a couple of humans wanted something to love. An existence so wantonly bestowed!

Sucks, doesn’t it? you felt like saying. Before you knew it, your heart had gone out to it completely.

Tell you what, onē-san. A man sidled up to Matsuno and slung an arm over his shoulder. A tattoo peeked out from his turtleneck. We’ll let you leave him here if you also leave us your LINE. How about that?

Dude! Matsuno hissed. You’re at work!

What? Don’t we need someone to call if anything goes wrong? The other young man smirked deviously, the mole below his right eye bending. Man, you have no sense for business. Here you are, getting a fancy new dog to sell at zero cost, and you're turning it away.

Seriously, if you don't shut the hell up—

Matsuno never got to finish his threat. Without thinking, you had taken the puppy off his hands. Strange. It didn’t feel so warm and soft when you were holding it before. It stilled upon your touch, wagged its skinny tail and seemed to grin victoriously while it panted. I’ve got you now! it’d probably like to say. Don’t you think we can make each others’ lives better? And just like that, you caved in like rotting wood.

A blessing, huh? you said, giving a small tap on its wet, sputtering nose. I guess I’ll take your word for it, Matsuno-san—

The red flash of a traffic light hits your eyes and your van groans to a halt.

“Say, Pierre-kun, you're running out of food. Why don't we make a stop by XJ Land after this?" you offer, to which the dog barks happily in agreement. It's amusing how much of a personality he's grown since you both left the pet shop that day. "If you and I really go at it, we can make Matsuno-san give us a discount."

While pedestrians are still gliding across your windscreen, you turn to the back of your van to check the boxes left in it: only a couple more to drop off at—you quickly consult your phone—Chiyoda Ward. You succumb to a groan.

Chiyoda is a little out of your way, so there will be less time you can spend at the store before you must head for Murasaki. The bigger problem at hand, though, is that the packages are due at Marunouchi district in Chiyoda, where most of your clients from the club work at. Things will get sticky if any one of them is to spot you unloading boxes from your van. It won't take them long to figure out the kind of day job you hold. You’re supposed to deliver fantasies and dreams, Mama will seethe, not online purchases or some hikikomori’s second lunch! She may even throw in a slap for good measure. Murasaki does not forbid its girls to moonlight—god knows that some of you need to—but Mama has driven her contempt for it into everybody’s heads. Men climb mountains to see the tennyō who live in heaven, you once heard her telling a girl who no longer works at the club. Do you think they’ll still do so if they can just find one at a fucking Seven-Eleven, cashing in their change? Do you think they’ll even want to anymore?

Well, that much you must agree with Mama. Utsu and Yū and the women of Murasaki aren’t supposed to exist in the real world. But with the lion’s share of your salary going to her and the Mara-kai, you needed a second job, and a girl clutching only a high-school diploma didn’t have many options. Service jobs like store-keeping or waitressing were out of the question—you will never have the strength to deal with human beings all day and all night.

You were drawing crosses on job listings when a delivery man rang your door to hand you some toys you’d bought Pierre, and you noticed he wasn't wearing a uniform. Yes, m’am, anyone can do freelance delivery, the young man answered with a blush, demonstrating on his phone how you can start. Shortly after, you bought a minivan for cheap at a second-hand dealer and ever since, you’ve been driving around the city and ringing doorbells on your afternoons. The payout is just enough to cover your meals and utilities, but there isn’t much to complain about: you get to work on your own hours (or not), and with the company of your dog. Really, the only fly in the ointment is the worry of someone asking if you also work at Murasaki—but you figure you can slip under the radar with drab clothes and a bare face.

As you turn into the grove of steel towers and skyscrapers, your glove box buzzes with a ring. Your stomach drops when you remember that it's where you kept your work phone—the one you use for Murasaki. Shit. Were you somehow already seen? Did some passer-by catch a glance while crossing before your van? Fuck! You'll never hear the end of it from Mama. The old shrew may even take a bigger cut off your earnings as punishment! Suddenly, you are stricken with regret. You should have cancelled those bloody requests when you had the chance!

"What a coincidence, Yamamoto-san," you answered, disguising your nervous voice as a coy one. Yamamoto-san is a director at a financial firm, so you know his office is in the area. “I was just thinking about you.”

“Oh, hey, Utsu.” He sounds a little curt, like he's still figuring out the best way to confront you. “Really? What are you doing now?”

The red light turns green, and you find an alley to pull over at. “I’m just at the pet store with Pierre-chan, which was why you crossed my mind.”

“Right. Anyway, listen. What’s going on at Murasaki?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mama-san just told me she’s cancelling our appointment on Tanabata. My friend—Sawada, you’ve met him—got the same call too for his date with Aoi. What’s this about?”

Your delivery job is still in the bag! But what Yamamoto-san has said is too puzzling for you to enjoy the relief. It's come out of the blue entirely. "I wasn't informed. Is there a mistake? As far as I know, you're still my eight o'clock on the seventh."

"No, we even got a message about it in black and white. Don’t you women communicate?”

"You must be really important to Murasaki if Mama's told you this before me." That utter cow! Leaving a mess like this to clear! You're curious about the reason behind these sudden cancellations. Concerned. But still you decide not to ask to avoid stoking Yamamoto-san's fire. "I apologise for this. I'll check with her. I trust that she's also offered you some sort of compensation?"

"Yeah… Store credit for a half-hour session."

"I'll throw in some Yamazaki too, how about that?"

"Fine. Make it an 18-year bottle at least."

You roll your eyes at Pierre. This old fogey must be out of his depth if he thinks he's worth that much. Still, you agree just so you can hang up quickly. The bartenders at Murasaki will know how to swap it with something cheap.

"Utsu, the free whiskey is nice and all, but what I really wanted was to spend Tanabata with you, you know?" he added in a cottony tone. "It's a night for lovers, after all."

"That makes the both of us, Yamamoto-san," you say, instead of suggesting that he spends it with his goddamn wife. "I'm so sorry, but Pierre-chan's getting frisky with another dog. I'll contact you again to reschedule, alright? Goodbye!"

Pierre lets out an indignant huff, and you pet his head in apology for using his name so unjustly.

You remember to breathe again. It’s not too much of a mystery when you think about it: Aoi pulls in the most sales for Murasaki and you come up second—some fat cat must’ve insisted on booking out the club’s top girls. It’s happened before, and Mama was also brusque in informing everyone then. Which zaibatsu scion is it this time? Or could it be a celebrity? Well, whoever walks through the door that night better bring some new faces and wallets with them. It’s proving to be hard for you to fish three-million yen from your current roster of clients.

As if to thwart the ease that’s settled, your phone rings once more. But instead of a call, it is now exploding with messages. A cold, unpleasant hunch tells you that the Tanabata thing is bigger than you thought, and you raise the screen up to your eyes to prove it true: customers are complaining left and right about the abrupt cancellation of their appointments. They’re not the only ones either. Your colleagues are also voicing their bewilderment in the group chat, assuming some kind of grievous error on the club’s website. Even second-tier hostesses like Atsuko have all their meetings struck off, and they worry about their fickle clients turning to another club for the night.

This is unprecedented. Murasaki has never once been booked out in its entirety. Mama will never give her customers a reason to visit other establishments, and there is simply more to earn from multiple parties than just one. Her heels are dug firmly in the ground when it comes to business. You feel sick, guts wringing bile up your throat. Like an eclipse upon light, it dawns slowly: the name for which Mama has bent her own iron rules for.

Bonten.

Is there something to be made of this glowering sky? Kakuchō is not a superstitious man and yet he cannot perceive these dark clouds as anything but ominous. It'd been sunny all day with no sign of precipitation, but as soon as he entered the car, thunder began to roll. Normally, this jarring turn of weather wouldn't throw him off, but as it's happened right before Bonten's meeting with the Mara-kai, Kakuchō cannot help but wonder if it might be an indication of sorts. In the end, he supposes with a bit of humility that even he is not immune to the dread of meeting the most dangerous man in Japan—especially when they are soon to take one of his most important assets: the hostess club Murasaki.

"Lighten up, will you?" drawls Ran from the seat beside. His lazy smile is bright in contrast to the brewing storm. "It's sacrilege to walk into a club with a glum face."

"We're walking into business," Kakuchō retorts, narrowing his eyes at the glass of whiskey in Ran's hand. "You can be a little less relaxed about this."

Ran responds pointedly with a sip of alcohol. When they were all younger, it grated on Kakuchō how unfazed Ran could bring himself to be about the world. No matter what kind of pinch he was in, Ran’s air of nonchalance was unwavering. He’d always figure out a way to make light of his situation and smile. Did he truly not care? Was he just that confident about himself? Or could it really be what Izana said, that he was an idiot and had once again let his head drift off to the clouds? In any case, it annoyed Kakuchō, who often took things seriously. These days however, as it becomes harder and harder to sleep without a gun by his bed, Kakuchō finds this quality of Ran somewhat enviable.

"Rindō and Mocchi just got to the club,” Ran breaks the silence again, reading off his phone. He taps on the headrest of their chauffeur, who immediately apologises for his slow driving. “Rindō already has playlists for Murasaki. Have you heard them?”

“Yes. And you should stop him from playing them if you want the club to profit.”

“Well, I happen to like some of his tracks…” Ran appears to mull. “But I must say it’s not the vibe for Murasaki. It’ll be your first time there tonight, won’t it?”

Kakuchō refuses to answer, which satisfies Ran all the same.

“You’ll have your pick of girls, or you can leave it to the mama," he explains, finishing his last swig of whiskey as their car turns into the Azabu-Jūban district. “She’s got an eye for choosing the right one.”

“I know how a hostess club works.”

“I never said that you didn’t. Oh, I’ll let you meet my girl too.”

“Didn’t ask to.”

“You know, I can’t wait to tell her who her new bosses are." A sinister sort of smile spreads across Ran’s lips. “She’s going to lose it.”

Kakuchō rolls his eyes, hoping that his colleague will remember where their priorities are at the moment. “Will the mama be working for us as well?”

“Presumably, because she works for Murasaki. Just like a CEO working for a new board. But her loyalties seem to lie with Tanida…" Ran trails off, gazing out of the window now. The Mori Tower passes his view—they're getting close to their destination. “Murasaki will be ours, for sure, but it won’t be worth as much if Mama-san doesn't have our interests at heart. We'll talk to the Mara-kai about this later."

Kakuchō feels urged to mention that something like that should've already been discussed. It is common sense that a club is only as valuable as the mama who runs it, and from what he’s heard, there lives no mama who’s made as much money as the one in Murasaki. But he also sees no point in starting the conversation when they're about to alight, so he decides against his comment. It's not like he's in the right position to speak, anyway; it'll be like telling a fish how it should swim. The Haitani Brothers were practically put on earth to run Tokyo’s nightlife—there was never any question about who was to lead Bonten’s foray into the trade. Even though he outranks Ran, Kakuchō knows to hold his tongue when it comes to that business.

After a series of turns, their driver finally pulls into a quiet street. It appears that night has since crept up, unnoticed amidst the dark rain clouds.

Takeomi’s mentioned that Murasaki was once a dingy snack bar in the basement of an old wooden shophouse. It’s not something anyone will guess of the sleek, steel-reinforced building that stands before Kakuchō now. In fact, it hardly resembles any establishment of that sort. Blinding neon signs, fast-talking touts and even garish menus of the ladies on shift—hostess and cabaret clubs are rarely shy about what they are. Even modest ones will sneak in the word 'girls' somewhere on their storefronts to let the men of the world know just what they are really selling.

But Murasaki is none of those. Its glass and concrete façade blends well with the other buildings in Roppongi-itchōme, where major offices and foreign embassies are close, almost as if to present itself as one of them. Any indication of its true order of business is contained in a small sign at its porch, which only spells the romaji of its name in backlit brass letters. Still, it can easily pass off as a restaurant’s plaque to passers-by who don’t know any better.

So—this is Murasaki. It is as unassuming as a club can be, but Kakuchō supposes the inconspicuousness is appreciated by most clients.

“Sanzu-sama’s car will be arriving in fifteen minutes, and the boss will take another ten,” notifies a subordinate as he shelters Kakuchō with an umbrella. Hardly a necessary gesture when they can reach the club’s entrance in just a few steps, but Kakuchō’s been told to accustom himself to the executive treatment. Noone’s gonna look up to you if you don’t put yourself higher than them, said Takeomi when he caught Kakuchō telling a lackey he can open his own doors. The advice still doesn’t sit well—partly because it came from a man once ruined by hubris—but Kakuchō understands the need to be commanding. He enters the foyer, where Ran is already waiting.

“Party’s on the fourth floor for us,” he informs. Ran is, of course, referring to themselves and the other Bonten executives. “All our other guys will be having fun in the atrium. Mama-san’s cleared the whole place out for us. Isn’t she nice?”

“Or she could be laying a trap,” frowns Kakuchō, prompting the other man to sigh. “Pretty convenient to have us all in the same place at once, don’t you think?”

“We’ve been through this… Have a little faith,” Ran pats him on the shoulder, the mild exasperation in his tone warning him not to continue. He turns to the concierge, who greets them with obsequious familiarity. “Good evening, Koremitsu-san. Big night, huh?”

“We humbly look forward to your guidance, Haitani-sama. I’d toast to you, but I am on the job.” Koremitsu, if that is his real name at all, bows deeply. In bronze letters, the wall behind him boldly reads: there are as many sorts of women as there are women. “Mama-san is at the VIP lounges with your brother and Mochizuki-sama.”

“And Utsu?"

"Still getting ready, the last I heard…" He dials a telephone on his desk and whispers into it, vaguely annoyed. "I apologise. You know how she likes to take her time for you."

"And you know how I'd gladly wait for her."

Ran has always held the passing of seasons and women in the same regard—Kakuchō knows this of his friend, but in seeing the grin he's flashed, wonders if the man is now capable of real attachment.

“Well, instead of waiting, why don’t you sample our new shipment of Dom Peris?” Koremitsu offers, rubbing his hands together. “Mama-san would also like you to pick the champagne for tonight.”

“Now that is a job for me,” Ran gleefully agrees, wasting no time in following the concierge to a door on their right. Clearly, he has no qualms about leaving Kakuchō at all. “Elevator’s down that hallway,” he points out, waving over his shoulder as he disappears just like that. “See you at the fourth floor in a bit, brawler!”

It is now Kakuchō’s turn to sigh, which is the most he can do about that rascal, anyway. The Aigner on his wrist tells him that Mikey and Takeomi are due to arrive, Sanzu and Kokonoi even sooner, so he settles to make his way up as Ran instructed. Once inside, Murasaki reveals itself as a different world entirely. Kakuchō is not a man of culture and neither does he pretend to be one, but even he can recognise a couple of the western paintings hung around the walls. It becomes apparent from every piece of furniture and artwork that the club was designed to flaunt Tanida’s wealth. A little too extravagant for his own tastes, but definitely something right up the Haitanis' alley.

The passage Kakuchō's been sent to is washed in black, which makes the walk seem longer than it should. By the time he reaches the metal doors at the end of it, he feels as though he’s walked into a different plane altogether. Kakuchō, unrelentingly cautious, beckons for three of his subordinates to follow him into the elevator. He quickly regrets it when the space turns out to be too tight of a squeeze for four built men—a sly trick, apparently: according to Rindō, it gives the hostesses an excuse to cosy up. How Mikey will take to being packed in this tin can later is a problem he cannot help but worry about. The boss has always needed his space from others.

The ride is soon interrupted at the second floor. Someone else is on their way up too, though Kakuchō doubts they’ll have much luck getting in with how his guards have walled themselves around him. The doors slide open and they see a young woman waiting on the other side: while her dress and make-up are more subtle than the other girls he's been brought to, she is unmistakably a hostess.

"Oh, please excuse me…" she mumbles in surprise, the crowd catching her off guard. Her expression suggests that she wouldn’t have entered even if the space allowed her to anyway. "I'll take the next one."

One of the guards grunts an apology while the other two release the guns by their waists. They are disciplined enough to keep their faces steely, but Kakuchō can sense their disappointment about her leaving—even he has noticed how lovely the woman is. Kakuchō has always been somewhat proud of being level-headed, so this compulsion to stare at her is becoming quite the bother. Under the soft glow of the elevator light: her eyes, her nose, her cheeks, her lips—Ah, shit… By the time the doors have closed, he is cursing himself for learning the full map of her face. At some point his heart has also quickened, beating as though it is on the verge of an answer to some great question, and he is left to dwell on its betrayal as the elevator ascends.

The fourth floor introduces itself with a blast of amber light and a pungent mix of cigarette smoke and perfume. Though he still has a corridor to pass, Kakuchō can well imagine from the raucous laughter that Rindō, Mocchi and their trusted men have already succumbed to the club’s hospitalities. Those idiots… Just save Tanida the trouble and roll over, why don't they? Has it ever occurred to anyone else that the Mara-kai can still be a threat? Apparently, age does not represent wisdom, and therein lies the reason why Bonten is led by its three youngest members. He presses on with his journey into the private lounge.

“So, this is Bonten’s Number Three… Where've you been hiding all this while?" It doesn't take long for the shark to circle in. An older woman—the mama, he presumes—purrs, teeth gleaming at the scent of fresh blood. She turns to Rindō, who’s joined them to make the introduction. "Why haven't you brought this stud to my club before?"

"Hey, aniki and I tried our best, but Kakuchō here is not that sorta guy," he explains with air quotes, smirking. It's obvious from his loose speech that he's already drunk more than he should. "Seriously, it's like he's sworn a vow at a monastery or something."

Are the Haitani Brothers genetically predisposed to get on his nerves? Kakuchō wishes that Rindō would at least have the sense to keep his mind clear before an important meeting, but he supposes that even sense in general is too much to ask from a fool. Seeing that his best course of action is to simply ignore Rindō, he gives the mama a curt nod. "Our business is in your care."

"Ah, I know the stoic type well," she remarks, eyeing him up and down as she sips on her long pipe. "I have just the girl you need, but I'd rather give my customers a choice. So, anyone you like? What's your eye for beauty?"

If it was truly up to him, Kakuchō would very much like to be in the company of his guards only. But as the saying about Rome goes… He seeks the expanse of the lounge for someone to pick, only to realise that he is already bound to a choice. At once, the young woman from the elevator comes to mind. The dim lights then have left an unreliable rendering of her hair and he wasn't very observant about what she wore, but everything else about her is burning starkly behind his eyes. It seems that her face has filled his head entirely and spared no space for anything else. But how does one begin to describe a face? It is perhaps as hard, if not harder, to put into words as a feeling.

“So?” Rindō slings a probing arm over his shoulders, teeming with anticipation not unlike a paparazzi in wait for a scoop. He must’ve guessed from Kakuchō’s hesitation that there is a genuine answer at stake. So smug is his shit-eating grin that, despite himself, Kakuchō is resolved to deny him any further satisfaction instead. “Anyone will do,” he grunts to the mama, the decision leaving a rather bitter taste on his tongue.

"Hmm, thought as much… There's no need to be shy, you know?" Smoke swells from her nose, and she motions for a hostess waiting by the bar to come over. "This is Rokujō, and she'll lead you out of your shell by the hand."

"Call me Jō," the hostess insists, bowing slowly so that both men will not miss how full her breasts are. He immediately detects a difference in age between them, and it strikes Kakuchō that Jō is one of the more mature women of the lot. Is that what the mama thought of him? He cannot find it in himself to protest, so he greets his companion politely and lets her fill the space by his arm. What does it matter, anyway, when he isn’t here to enjoy himself in the first place? Still, he cannot suppress his growing dismay for how the night is turning out.

Rindō grumbles in disappointment at how boring Kakuchō is determined to be and leaves with the mama for a livelier corner of the room, where Mocchi has made himself at home with an armful of girls. Kakuchō is instead steered away to a quieter corner by Jō, who must've either sensed his preference for it or is planning to keep him all to herself. Both reasons may also be at play together. Her courtship proceeds formulaically: she praises how hard his biceps are, twice, refills his drink, and attempts to learn all there is to know about him. He entertains her sparingly.

Jō is undeniably beautiful but not beautiful in a way that frustrates him, and that is why she cannot stop him from glancing at the lounge’s doors every so often. He doesn’t mean to be rude, but duty has to come first: Mikey is to appear any time now. Tanida too, if everyone is keeping to the plan. However, as the minutes tick by, it becomes harder and harder to pretend that the unease spreading between his lungs is caused by anything but the possibility of never meeting the woman from the elevator again. Could it be that she was heading for the third floor instead of the fourth? Was she assigned somewhere else at the last minute? Will he see her again? With all these pointless questions clouding his mind, Kakuchō can feel himself slipping into a pathetic state. The last time he felt so reduced was when he'd been seventeen and still a boy. Because the girl in question was something special, he can accept the torment he was put through then, but, now, for a woman he's barely met...? Beauty alone has never been enough to sway Kakuchō of Bonten—why should that change?

"Utsu, you little tart. You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago!"

"Sorry, Mama. I was getting ready."

The mama's distinct tenor voice breaks his reverie but it is the softer one after it that holds his attention. Helpless to the familiar call of the sound, he looks up and his eyes land on her immediately despite the flock of bodies in the room: the woman, by the door! She is bent in a slight bow—presumably one of apology to the mama—and so her face is still partially concealed, but Kakuchō has no doubt about who she is. He's even developed a strange confidence that he’d be able to recognise her anywhere, like he's known her for a long time.

The woman straightens herself, bringing her features into the light, and something between his lungs moves. Stirring, fluttering, thrashing, writhing—Kakuchō cannot tell how it is moving exactly, only that it cannot be stopped. It takes him to a realisation he should've arrived at a long time before, and by the time he's caught a clear view of her face, Kakuchō knows deep in his bones what he must do.

He must not let her slip away again, not the way he did eight years ago.

Embarrassing: you still wring your fingers into knots when you are nervous. Didn’t you leave this bad habit behind in your girlhood with the rest of it? Or have you simply not been nervous enough for it to surface? Whatever the case is, this shameful display is unbecoming of you, so you summon Mama’s advice to mind and cross your arms to keep your hands from moving.

“How about this?”

You look up and the only thing you see in the mirror is the searing glare of your hairdresser. Chū Reika has been giving blowouts to the girls of Murasaki for nine years and is only ever thanked for it. Therefore, you can see where her temper is coming from when you request that she changes your hairstyle, again, for the fifth time.

“You know you look fine!” she seethes, obviously harbouring a desire to scalp you then and there. “Are you messing with me?!”

“I think I want an up-do after all…” you pretend to mull, fingering the loose waves falling on your shoulder. Chū throws her hands up in defeat and moves to pack her brushes, so you dig around your wallet for something to win her back with. “C’mon, Chū-jie. It’s a special night. I just want to look my best.”

The other hostesses refer to her by Chū-nē out of affection, but you prefer to use the Mandarin equivalent that is ‘jie’. Chū Reika landed on the shores of Japan a decade ago to escape the poverty of her village in China—a rather common story you’ve heard. Her Japanese has since grown to be impeccable but she has yet to find a way to mask her unusual intonation. Most other girls cannot tell where it’s coming from, but because your mother had given you an ear for the Chinese accent, you could ask where her provincial hometown is right off the bat of your first meeting—in the language she is most natural with. To tell the truth, you didn’t really care for the information, but you reckoned it'd be helpful to endear yourself to the hairdresser.

“Stop lying, I know you’re just dragging time.” Chū sighs, considerately switching to Mandarin when calling your intentions out even though there is no one else around. She pinches the five-thousand-yen note from your hand and gets to work again. “Your hair will fry, you know.”

Chū has hit the nail on the head but you don't praise her for it. A week ago, some time after your call with Yamamoto-san, Mama made the executive order for every hostess to punch in on the night of Tanabata. "We're reserving the club for some very important guests” was all she indulged, but word had somehow gotten out that Murasaki is changing hands and the event is meant to welcome the new owners. You are capable of simple arithmetic so it didn’t take long for you to conclude that the Mara-kai had sold to Bonten, and from the moment you summed that up, you’ve been afflicted with a sinking feeling in the pits of your stomach. What will happen to you? What will Tanida do with you? Now that it is Tanabata, the gutting ache is at its height. You'd woken up at mid-day wishing you could hide the night out under your quilt, but because Mama has ruled that out as an option, you were left with the next best thing to do: delay it.

The phone in the dressing room rings just as Chū is about to pin your last clump of loose hair, and she leaves to answer it only when the noise has grown too annoying to bear. You don't need to hear the angry hissing of the receiver to know what the call is about. It's half an hour past the time you were ordered to be on the fourth floor—Koremitsu must've been tasked with summoning you there, probably by Mama or Ran. That utter tool. You've never liked his snivelling, grovelling ways.

“Well, this is the best I can do,” Chū tells you as she finishes her job. The previous hairstyle suits you better, but in your best interests you keep that to yourself and give your thanks instead. Besides, there is something strangely gratifying about not looking your best for the night. To hell with Mama. To hell with Ran! With any luck, the last-minute styling may even dampen your appeal to that greasebag. When he was a customer, you could at the very least count on the good old excuse of club etiquette to keep him at arm's length. But now that Ran's the fucking boss, he is free to step over all the rules and become as much of a pain as he wants. Can’t you be allowed even a single respite in life? Can’t the gods show you mercy for once?

So indignant you are at the perversity of it all that you don’t even realise you’ve called for an elevator. The sudden beeping startles you into awareness, and you’re glad that it did before you can walk into the wall of meat that is practically spilling out the doors. Ah, right. Mama did warn that Murasaki will be welcoming more testosterone and muscle tonight, but even then it did nothing to prepare you for the shock of having three large men scowl down at you.

“Oh, please excuse me…” you take a step back to appease them, who you’ve identified as bodyguards from their plain dressing and defensive stance. “I’ll take the next one."

These men must be from Bonten, but unlike Ran’s guards who always seemed to care more about your tits than their boss’s safety, these three golems appear to be actually competent at their job. You attribute their discipline to the man brooding quietly behind them. He is a little smaller in stature, but the authority exuding from his stern gaze is definitely one of a leader. The closing doors have stolen your chance to catch a proper look, but the hasty glimpse you’ve snuck of him shows dark hair and what resembles a large scar across his left eye. The sight comes accompanied by a sense of familiarity, but you dismiss it easily because there’s no way you’d forget a Bonten member like that.

The next elevator comes soon enough—too soon, in fact—and you brace yourself for the night of torture. It shortly begins with fierce shrieking from Mama.

"Utsu, you little tart,” she rounds in as you enter the lounge, spitting smoke all over your face. “You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago!"

“Sorry, Mama,” you bow, not minding that there isn't a shred of the sentiment carried in your tone. “I was getting ready.”

“Oh, were you?” You can tell from her constipated expression that she’s torn between yelling at you more or letting you go. Mama hates to flog at dead horses so she settles on the latter with a sigh, making sure to clip you in the shoulder as she leaves. “Ran is coming up soon. Prepare yourself.”

You don’t suppose she's left a sympathetic sort of meaning to her instruction, but the idea amuses you nonetheless. That, and Ran’s absence itself, lift your spirits enough for you to power through with your job. You walk over to the bartender to place an order for Ran’s favourite drink, going by a roundabout way to avoid Rindō, who is presently egging on a blonde, goateed man in his endeavour to chug a full bottle of whiskey straight. Another Bonten executive, you presume from his flashy, moss-green suit and the throng of your colleagues he's gathered. How many of them are there, again? Four, seven executives? Well, you don't care enough to recall. You'll find out soon, anyway.

The bartender nods and smiles in greeting as you approach the counter, but his eyes are distant—the courtesy is meant for someone behind. You turn around to face the tall, imposing figure looming over your back.

Dark hair and a scarred eye: it's that man from the elevator.

Though the intensity of his gaze suggests that he's been staring at you for a while, he looks to be even more surprised than you are about the meeting, like it never occurred to him that he'd see you again. Normally, you'd instantly peg him as some kind of creep for displaying such an odd demeanour and set the bouncers on him, but for some strange, inexplicable reason, you empathise with his shock instead. It doesn't take you long to connect it to that sense of familiarity you felt when you first saw his face, which has now returned in an overwhelming wave.

“Nikaidō.” Breath escapes him and he looks relieved, as though your name is something he’s lost and found. The confidence he declared it with, however, falters by the time of his next question. He points to the streak across his eye. “Do you remember me?”

Upon his bid, the world gives way to this man before you. The haze of eight years starts to thin, and slowly he takes on the shape of that boy outside your door, the one who so earnestly asked if he’d see you again. He’s been made unfamiliar by a taut face, longer hair and a sleek, dark suit—but because this is someone you once learned by touch, you have no doubt about who he is. A name gathers at the tip of your tongue, like a song once beloved.

“Kakuchō.” You’re smiling before you know it. “I’d remember you even without that scar.”

Never have you spoken truer words in your time at Club Murasaki.

Glossary of Terms / References Used | Next Chapter TBC

A/N: It's been a hot minute and I apologise for that! Several things going on here in this primarily MC-centric chapter, I hope you enjoyed the little reveals about her life! I promise, her background is plot-relevant. Oh, and I guess her reunion with Kakucho is in this too, huh! :P As always comments and reblogs and tag-coments will be loved till the end of time!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fanfiction #kakucho #haitani ran #haitani rindou #matsuno chifuyu #hanemiya kazutora #kakucho x oc #kakucho x reader #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran x oc #ran haitani x reader #ran haitani x oc #bonten #mochizuki kanji #akashi takeomi #requital of a crane

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avengersassemble123 · 4 months

Text

ASKING TOKREV BOYS FOR YOU TO WAX THEM PT.2

Characters/pairings: Mitsuya x reader, Hakkai x reader, Angry x reader, Smiley x reader, Kazutora x reader

—————

MITSUYA

Mitsuya had his hands behind his back, while youheld his face by one hand, and the other holding the wax stick in his nose. You wheezed as you put both your hands on his chest for his support.

"(NAME) STOP STOP" Mitsuya said, as he held your shoulders, shaking it and looking at you with wide eyes. You loved your boyfriend, but the sight of him with full blown eyes and two wax sticks up his nose is enough to make you wheeze more, while Mitsuya let out chuckles in between too, as he desperately shook you.

"This is too suspenseful (NAME) just pull it please." You somehow found your boyfriend more adorable, as pure panic was setting him in by the realisation of what was about to happen, but at the same time wanted to get this over with.

"Ok ok I'm sorry but its way too-" You laughed as you tried to calm yourself down before holding and preparing to pull out the sticks.

"Ok. one. two."

At the count of three, you tugged on the stick lightly, as your boyfriend grimaced, before holding your hands abruptly and pulling it away from him, as he looked the other direction, holding his nose, groaning loudly in pain, while you looked at him wide eyed, as more laughter bubbled inside you, as you hugged him, "Oh my godd baby, im so sorry" You laughed as Mitsuya buried his face into your neck while not removing his hold from his nose.

After a few minutes, he starightened up, nodding his head side to side to prepare himself, before holding your shoulders and closing his eyes, "Just pull it without counting down, just do it."

You then suddenly pulled out the stick, as Mistuya cursed out loud, as he bent down, one hand on his knee, while the other cupping his nose, while chuckled, soothing his back.

"Its okay baby, just one me left. I know you can do it."

Mitsuya straightened one more time, breathing heavily before you pulled out the other stick as well, as Mitsuya groaned, as you disposed off the sticks. You hugged him, your face buried in his chest, soothing his back, while he hugged you back as well, his head on top of yours, but still cupping his nose.

____

SMILEY

"Alright. lets fucking do this." Nahoya said, as you applied the hot wax on his eyebrows, making him wince out a slight 'ow', his wide grin unwavering.

You chuckled lightly applying the hot wax, "Baby are you sure you wanna do your eyebrows?"

"Yea, its not even that important. In fact, i didnt shave in a while so how about you wax around my lips."

"You can even grow out facial hair?" You snorted, before you felt Nahoya pinch your waist, making you squeal.

After applying wax on his eyebrows and his philtrum, you waited for he wax to slightly cool down.

You stood between his legs as he was seated on a chair, before picking at the corner of an applied wax strip, as he held your hand, "The hell you playing for?"

"I need to get a grip on the wax" You explained laughing, as Nahoya winced slightly, before you held onto his face tightly with your left hand, and ripping out the wax strip on his philtrum.

Nahoya groaned loudly with his lips closed, while his hands held the edges of the chair tightly, as you laughed at his reaction.

"YES I CAN DO IT." Nahoya cheered himself loudly as you continued laughing while removing the wax strip, "YESS" your boyfriend howled as you managed to remove the wax strip completely in the fourth try.

"I DONT GIVE A SHIT ANYMORE" He proclaimed loudly, as you now worked on the eyebrow wax strip, your stomach hurting from all the laughter, "DONT FUCKING PLAY WITH IT (NAME) JUST RIP IT-"

"I DIDNT DO THIS SHIT TO BE FUNNY DUMBASS" Nahoya groaned, as you clutched your stomach, wheezing.

After you managed to remove all the wax, you cupped his face as he grumpily crossed his hands across his chest, as you kissed his reddened cheeks while he sat with a pout.

____

ANGRY

"Baby are you sure wanna go ahead with this"

"Yea it doesnt seem that bad. i dont think itll hurt much."

Souya said, as he sat on a chair facing sideways, while his back faced towards you, shirtless. You applied wax on a part of his back, before sticking the strip on it, "Im just gonna do a part first before i do the whole back, just so you'd know how it would feel, got it?" You said, as Souya nodded.

"Is the wax supposed to feel this hot?" Souya asked nervously, making you chuckle, "Thank god i didnt go for the whole back." You murmured before getting ready.

"Okay baby, im pulling it now. Are you ready?" You said, making Souya nod, before you held his shoulder by one hand and gripping a corner of the wax strip, before ripping it out.

"AAAIYYEEEE" Souya screamed, straightening his back in reflex before falling down along with the chair, making your eyes widen, as you covered your mouth is surprise and laughter, as you hurried towards your boyfriend, soothing him through your tears built up from your laughter, as he laid across the floor, rubbing his back with his arm, as he groaned. You soothed his hair, while he accepted your actions, groaning, "I DIDNT KNOW IT HURT THAT MUCHH???"

"Souya i did tell you, it would hurt a lot at first. thats why i started with a part of your back, rather than waxing the whole."

Souya nodded, pouting as he got up, still rubbing his back, as he picked up the chair and fixed it, before sitting on it, "Lets just get this over with."

"U sure baby?"

"Honestly no, but i wont hear the end of it if Nahoya finds out about this."

You cooed at him as you then proceeded to wax his whole back.

Safe to say, the whole session was filled with Souya's screams and groans, to which later on you had to treat him with his favourite food for dinner.

Souya never looked at waxing the same.

____

HAKKAI

Hakkai laid down on the floor, as you knelt down beside him, heating up the wax, as Hakkai observed the boiling wax. "Honestly..the more i look at it, the less fun it looks..." Hakkai nervously sweated. You blew slightly on the hot wax before applying on his back, making him let out a grunt, "Damn thats hotter than i thought."

You chuckled as u continued applying the wax, before letting it cool down as u both chatted in the meantime.

You towered over him, as you placed your legs on either side of him, as you bent down to get hold of his wax. Before you started, you handed your boyfriend his shirt which he had taken off before.

"What's this for?" Hakkai asked confused.

"You'll see." You said, before suddenly ripping out a strip.

Hakkai howled as his body twitched, as you laid a hand on the shaved skin to calm him down as laughter escaped your lips.

"Holy shit that was unexpected." Hakkai exclaimed as he then buried his face in the bunched up tshirt, while you continued laughing, "I did tell you it wasnt gonna be easy."

"But Yuzuha does it with a straight face."

"Because she is used to it. You're not."

You then ripped out another strip, making him howl, as he buried his face in the tshirt, his howling being muffled, as you laid your head on his back, trying to make your stomach ache lessen.

"Just rip that thing already" Hakkai grunted, as he stuffed his mouth with the t-shirt. As you removed the last strip, Hakkai groaned loudly as he fully laid down 180 degrees, his face in his rolled up shirt.

"Jesus..."

You continued to laugh as your rubbed his back soothingly.

____

KAZUTORA

as you fixed the waxed earbuds in his nose, you pressed his nose for the wax to fix properly, as he slightly winced at the hotness of the wax.

"Okay baby this is gonna hurt, so ill make it quick okay?"

"Yea yea, this is not the worst anyways. Pull it out in one go though. I can take it."

You chuckled as his fingers played with his nose trying to adjust the wax, while you swatted his hands away to not mess something up and scolding him like a child.

"Why do i feel like you're gonna cry?"

"What me? pfft thats the last thing im gonna do."

"Okay, whatever you say."

You guided his hand to hold his nose, while you held the earbuds with both your hands.

"Okay, ready?"

"mmhh hmm'

"Okay, one, two, three."

You pulled both the earbuds, as one got out, while the other partially got out, as Kazutora loudly howl out an 'OWWWW". Without warning you ripped the second one out as well, making him howl out louder, as your removed your hands from him, while he faced away from you, lying on the couch, holding his nose.

"OWWW YOU JERK!" Kazutora yelled as you reached out to him, laughing.

"I SAID THE SAME TIME."

"I TRIED IM SORRY"

You both had slight tears in your eyes, yours out of laughter, while his out of the sudden pain, as you hugged him while he kept holding his nose, groaning and muttering 'what kind of girlfriend does this'

Safe to say, you had to shower him with kisses and cuddles to make it upto him.

____

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swxxtsxcchxrine · 2 years

Text

Domestic fluff w/ Rindou <33

Rindou was a dangerous man who dealt with dangerous business. And knowing this, you still went on to fight for your relationship. He’d never been in-love. Hell, he didn’t even realise it was a very real feeling until he saw you. When you first held him in your arms that’s when he knew, both of your heartbeats synced at that point and haven’t stopped since.

Ran and Sanzu would often joke about and tease Rin about his little crush, but that crush turned to something far more bigger, and by the time he had found out, he was in to deep. Before long, the two of you had engaged and soon married.

Rin often worked late at night to finalise business deals and cut off ties with other business affiliations. So you coming home to an empty house wasn’t new. However, tonight the house wasn’t empty to your surprise. You hadn’t even acknowledged the fact that the younger Haitani was fast asleep in bed.

Soon enough, your stomach grumbled distracting you from taking a shower to wash away all the stress. Opening the fridge, you found a delicate dinner plate full of food, wrapped in clingfilm. You let out a content sigh looking down at the food as if it were a single tear drop from your lovers eyes.

‘When are you going to tell him?’

‘He needs to know…’

‘Why do you ruin everything?’

You suddenly gasped, as tears swelled in your eyes and guilt churned and bubbled deep within the walls of your stomach. You had to tell him. You couldn’t keep this a secret away from your husband. He had a right to know as your husband.

You set the empty plate down and gulped. You silently walk into your shared bedroom before brushing your teeth and slipped on your silk nighty. “Baby…?” he asks, reaching into the darkness towards your now shaking figure.

You just couldn’t help it. The tears had already come streaming down. He didn’t realise you were quite literally sobbing on the bed and when he did he quickly pulled you onto his chest. “Sugar…what’s wrong? What happened baby? Are you ok?” he asks sympathetically whilst stroking your hair. You hiccup and sob into his chest mumbling something incoherent.

“You’re pregnant?!” he says a ping of excitement flickered on his face. It was dark but Rindou held a proud smile. For a good minute he had forgotten about your emotional distress and started thinking about you and him together, raising a small family to call your own. “I’m gonna be a father. Finally, man. Come here pretty girl. Finally made you a good mommy. Such a good girl f’me.” he says kissing you as your sobbing soon died down. He pushed your body into his with love and content. “I thought you’d be upset…” you say in almost a whisper.

“Upset? Why would I be upset. I finally got the girl of my dreams and now she’s pregnant, with my child. That has got to be the greatest achievement of my life. Don’t you ever think for a moment that I would ever regret having a beautiful child with you.” he whispers kissing your forehead and rubbing your belly where the child lay asleep. By the time he’d finished being all mushy and soft all over you, you were fast asleep, cradled softly in his arms that almost worked as a barrier from the dangers outside of his comfort.

It was safe to say that Rindou hadn’t got a wink of sleep for he was too busy thinking of all the things he was going to do with your child and how he was going to spoil them with everything he had. Because he loved you and your child.

Now and forever.

#anime #fluff #kazutora x reader #noya #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers rindou #tokyo revengers rindou x reader #tr rindou smut #tr rindou fluff #domestic fluff w/ rindou #rindou scenarios #ran haitani #rin haitani #rin haitani fluff #rindou haitani #rindou baby fever #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers scenarios

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mae-avenue · 3 years

Text

WHO IS YOUR FIRST DANCE

꧁𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 4 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑒𝑦 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑛’𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐻𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑂𝑓 𝑊𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠𝑜𝑟 ꧂

𝑀𝑌 𝐺𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐻𝐸𝑅𝑂 𝐴𝐶𝐴𝐷𝐸𝑀𝐼𝐴 ☾

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐺𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇 𝐹𝐼𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝑂𝑅𝐶𝐸 ఌ

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑊𝑂𝑁𝐷𝐸𝑅𝐹𝑈𝐿 𝐽𝑈𝐽𝐼𝑇𝑆𝑈 𝐾𝐴𝐼𝑆𝐸𝑁ꨄ

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑀𝑂𝑁 𝑆𝐿𝐴𝑌𝐸𝑅𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺𝐷𝑂𝑀❣︎

𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐺𝐴𝑈𝑅𝐷𝑆 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝑂𝐾𝑌𝑂 𝑅𝐸𝑉. 𖨆

𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑙𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑑𝑠? 𝑀’𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦?- 𝑅𝑜𝑦𝑎𝑙 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟?

#jjk #jjk itadori #Mae-avenue #masterlist #bakugou x black!reader #domestic bakugou #demon slayer #demon slayer masterlist #mha x poc!reader #mha masterlist #ballroom of excellence #📜~𝑄𝑈𝐸𝐸𝑁’𝑆 𝑀𝐴𝑆𝑇𝐸𝑅𝐿𝐼𝑆𝑇 #tr manga #tr #tokyo revengers manjiro sano #tokyo revengers anime

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moongoddessmox · 2 years

Text

Darlin' (Lee Bodecker x Reader) MoxMas Day 14

Warning: 18+, fluff, smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, m/f orgasm, pet names: darling, doll, baby, mentions of domestic abuse, some violence, gunshot wounds (unrelated to the abuse),

Word Count: 8,523

Pairing: soft!Lee x Reader

Summary: You move to Knockemstiff to make a clean break from an abusive relationship. Working as a nurse, the sheriff takes interest in you and you slowly begin to fall for him. When he suffers a gunshot, you tend to him and your bond only grows.

Prompt: Christmas Eve has your otp trapped in an elevator until late, both hungry and cold and now asleep together on the floor with bags of shopping discarded across from them.

A/N: Alright, this is long as hell and idk if it just drags on or not, but I really loved the idea of Lee being infatuated with you so here's that. I also briefly made this a MoxMas prompt to fill in my list lmao, but that isn't really the main focus. Also, in this world Lee isn't corrupt or a hoe lmao. As always, crossposted on mox-writes for notifications. Feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

Masterlist | Mox-Writes | MoxMas Masterlist

Prompt List 2

"Mornin' darling'," Sheriff Lee Bodecker greeted you as he walked into the small rural hospital where you worked. You were new in town, coming in from one small town to another and taking up a vacancy there as a nurse. You weren't so sure it could be called a hospital, it was the size of a clinic and didn't see as many patients as a hospital did, most folks around there couldn't afford major surgeries so the most action the place saw was a few broken arms.

You offered him a weak smile, he came by every day just to talk to you, hoping one day you'd finally give in to his advances and go out with him. You heard about his reputation around town and didn't want to get into another bad relationship. You moved away from home to escape an abusive relationship that left you in the hospital plenty of times and just wanted a clean break.

"Mornin' Sheriff," you barely glanced at him as you shuffled around some papers, getting together some forms for a patient. Lee leaned on the counter and tapped his hand on it absentmindedly, the other playing with some candy wrappers in his jacket pocket.

"When are you gonna let me take you to dinner, doll?" The southern drawl of his voice was thick and smooth, it ran chills down your spine when he'd call you those little pet names but you always brushed them off. He didn’t bother making small talk before he asked, like I said, he came in every day to talk to you and ask the same thing.

"I already told you, sheriff, I'm busy workin' here and I ain't got time to be running around with you," you gave a small smirk. You didn't think he'd ever give up trying to get you to dinner, probably just so he could get you into bed--or more likely, the back of his cruiser. But he was pretty cute, you'd give him that.

"Oh darlin', you gotta eat sometime," he winked, waiting for a proper answer, his blue eyes watching every move you made. You stacked your papers and clipped them onto a clipboard, holding it in your arms against your chest. You looked up at him, his round cheeks creased with a smile. You sighed, walking around the counter and placing a hand on his shoulder briefly.

"Bye sheriff," you walked away down the hall, skirt swaying from side to side as he watched you disappear, hearing your sweet voice greet your patient before the door closed behind you.

The sheriff’s infatuation with you went on for weeks, hoping that one of those days would finally be the one. You always brushed him off and denied his attempts but he kept coming back to that little hospital, tapping his fingers and chewing on some type of candy, leaning against that little counter as you filled out forms and processed information. It had gotten to the point where everyone knew when he was coming; if you were going to be away with a patient, there’d always be a note written by another nurse waiting for him on the counter. “She’s busy, try again tomorrow”, to which he’d wait as long as he could for you to be finished just so he could see you, though usually you didn’t come back out in time and he had to disgruntledly leave.

You had made a couple friends in town and started to feel like part of the community. Everyone knew everyone and all the town gossip, but you tried to keep to yourself enough that no one found out about your past. You wanted a fresh start and having everyone whisper and bring up your abusive ex wasn’t something you wanted to happen. You tried to break away more and more as time went on, allowing yourself the comfort of having friends and putting effort into town events, but you still did most things alone.

You walked down the beaten sidewalk from the small market, holding a couple cloth shopping bags in each hand. You took in the town, it was small and dingy, dust-covered the sidewalks, and the few little shops were surrounded by trees. Chirp! Chirp! You got startled by the siren of a patrol car pulling up beside you. You paused and looked over, seeing the sheriff sitting in the driver’s seat of a black and white police car, the red light on top spun a few times then came to a stop.

Lee pulled over, leaning over until he was in full view of you. He looked you up and down, a smirk crossing his face into a full-blown smile.

“Afternoon, darlin’,” you raised an eyebrow at him with a small smirk of your own. Gracing him with a coy smile you waited for his millionth attempt to take you out. “So you do leave work sometimes then?” he tipped his head toward your bags, already wondering if you go shopping at the same time every day so he can “bump into you”.

“A girl’s gotta get what she needs, sheriff,”

“Well, a girl as pretty as you shouldn’t have to walk,” he extended his hand toward the passenger door, inviting you to get in. You only shook your head, you had no idea if you’d even make it home without a detour and you didn’t want to find out. Cute as he was, you still didn’t want to trust a man yet, especially not the infamously active sheriff.

“I don’t have to walk, I choose to, thanks though!” you said as you began to walk away, leaving him without a goodbye. You just wanted to get back home and hoped he would move on to the next girl, which you figured was bound to happen. He’d reach a point where you didn’t interest him anymore and he’d find the next young thing to bother, it was best that he got there before he had anything real to do with you.

Lee put the car in drive and slowly inched down the road next to you, still trying to keep a conversation going.

“Ya know, I like a headstrong woman,”

“I bet you do,”

“Now come on, one little dinner with me wouldn’t kill ya, would it?” you rolled your eyes. Not as annoyed as you should have been, you were flattered by the attention he gave you but it was all for naught.

“I actually don’t know about that sheriff, from what I hear, it could be pretty bad,” Lee’s eyebrows furrowed, he wasn’t sure what it was going to take to convince you but he wasn’t going to give up.

“I see you listen to town gossip, most of what you heard probably isn’t true, doll,” he wasn’t lying, most of the town gossip was bred out of jealousy and boredom. He was actually a decent guy given the chance. Sure, he’d screw around a little bit early in his career as sheriff, but it was nothing more than usual and he was actually really caring toward whoever was his girl.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t lie?” you kept a smirk on your face, flicking your gaze toward him every so often.

“Miss Y/N, if there’s one thing to be known about me, it’s that I never lie to a beautiful woman.” you paused for a moment after he spoke. Turning to look at him as he came to a stop, you searched his face for any semblance of a lie but it wasn’t there, he looked like he was being honest. Lee leaned over the seat again to watch your small pause, he wondered what you were thinking, if maybe you were starting to believe him, that’s what he hoped at least. You sighed and kept walking, and being followed.

Lee made chit-chat until you reached the corner where you needed to turn. It was starting to get dark and you were almost home, you didn’t want Lee to find any reason to come inside. As if you had commanded it to happen, he got a radio call about an incident he needed to take care of, so he left with a smooth “see ya tomorrow” and sped off in the opposite direction. You exhaled, glad he was gone, but missing the company.

By now it was Christmas Eve and you had gotten up early to make your final rounds of shopping. Only a couple places were open still, most closing the day before so everyone had time to spend with their families. Such a small town didn’t require everyone to be open, so there was just the market and another little shop. That worked out perfectly for you because you just needed to find a couple more gifts and some Christmas sides.

After your shopping, you went to an engraver in town to pick up an order you had placed. It was the only place in town that had an elevator, most of the shops were rundown and one story, but the engraver had a rickety old lift that helped bring down the large pieces he created. Unbeknownst to the rest of town, you had a pretty bad hip, a condition of your previous relationship. Normally, you would just take the stairs up to the workroom of the engraver, you were only getting a small piece and it didn’t constitute using the elevator. But you had a hard time getting up steps, so you chose to use the elevator.

The building was old and a bit dark, the faint clacks of a hammer on metal echoed through the cement building as blacksmiths worked on tools somewhere. As you boarded the elevator, none other than Lee Bodecker walked into the dingy old building. His round face twisted up into a smile as he saw you standing there, shopping bags in hand and a long peacoat hugging your body. You sighed softly, lips threatening a smile as you clicked the button to take you up.

Lee rushed over and stopped the elevator from closing, he stepped on and smiled at you.

“Ya know, I think it’s fate that I keep running into you, doll,” he leaned over you, one hand on his tactical belt, the other on the wall beside you.

“Or it’s stalking, sheriff,” you joked lightly. You hoped it was a coincidence, he wouldn’t have had any way of knowing where you were anyway, seeing as the gift you were picking up was for him and only you knew about it.

“What are you doing at old Benji’s anyway?”

“Just picking up a gift is all, what are you doing here?” you asked him back, a coy look spreading across your face. Lee licked his bottom lip, his smile never faded as he looked at you.

“Just the same, just a special gift for a special lady,” he winked at you. What a coincidence that you both had gotten gifts from the same place for each other. Unless of course, the “special lady” was one of the other women he was probably pursuing. You rode the elevator all the way up, getting off and greeting Benji while sneakily tucking the gift in your bag. It was rather cheesy, just a glass tankard engraved with ‘Knockemstiff Sheriff’, but you knew he loved to drink and you wanted to get him something for his endless efforts.

You both got back on the elevator and headed down to the main floor. Midway through, the elevator creaked and jammed, getting stuck where you couldn’t get out.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath, banging on the console to try and get it to move. The elevator didn’t budge. Lee called out to Benji, hoping he’d hear him and come help but there was too much extra noise in the building. Lee looked at you as if to apologize, though, you didn’t know why, it’s not like he caused the thing to break. You sighed and set your bags down in the corner, sliding down the wall of the elevator until you were sitting beside your things. Lee leaned against the wall and watched you.

“Who knows how long we could be in here, we might as well consider it a date,” Lee chuckled, shooting his eyebrows up at you with a smirk.

“This is a terrible date sheriff,”

“Please, call me Lee,” his eyes softened. The little change in his expression made a new feeling rush over you. It was like you were seeing him, like seeing who he really was, he was soft and caring and just wanted you to care for him too. You looked down, fiddling with your thumbs.

“This is a terrible date, Lee,” he smiled widely at his name falling from your lips. Lee sat down across from you, making conversation like you’d never had. He was actually discussing things, what he does daily as a cop, his past, his life. It was new, usually, you only talked about how much he wanted you, brief greetings in passing, but now he was talking to you.

Hours passed and you were still stuck in the elevator, Lee still making conversation and getting you to open up a little bit. If you were going to be stuck with him, you might as well be civil. Eventually, you started getting tired. Slumping your head over as you failed repeatedly to stay awake, hoping help would come so you could go get into bed. Lee took notice of this and offered his lap for your head, you refused and stayed leaned against the wall, head bobbing and eyes getting heavy.

It wasn’t long before you fell fully asleep, your head pressed against one wall of the elevator and one knee pulled up to your chest. Lee was still awake, listening to the soft sounds of your breathing. You were gorgeous, he admired every little detail about you with a smile. He took off his jacket and put it aside, reaching over to you and laying you gently on the ground next to him with your head on his outstretched arm. He laid his jacket on your body and hoped you were warm enough. It was pretty cold, but he didn’t want to cross any boundaries by cuddling you, so this would suffice.

Another couple of hours passed and Lee had fallen asleep too. You were now pressed against his body, arm slung over his soft chest and one leg pulled on top of his. He hadn’t moved much though, just his free hand laying on your forearm gently. You were shocked awake by the movement of the elevator, sitting up abruptly as you began to shift downward. Lee sat up, groggily coming to his senses about where he was. You looked at him shyly, standing up and gathering your things. Lee didn’t say anything yet, just brushed a hand along the back of his neck, unsure if he made you uncomfortable.

“Thanks,” you handed him back his jacket, offering a warm smile. You thought it was sweet, you hadn’t taken the sheriff as someone who would make sure you were comfortable.

“Any time, darlin’,” he smiled back, slipping his jacket back on and offering you a ride back home. This time you took it.

After you napped some more, you got up and started your day. It was Christmas, so you spent the day baking and going around town giving people their gifts. You only had a few stops to make, three friends from work and the sheriff. You saved Lee for last, considering staying with him a bit longer if he was available. You knocked on his door but there was no answer. You were confused because you knew he wasn’t going to work that day and everywhere was closed. You waited a little longer but he never showed, so you decided to just head home. You set his gift on your dining table and went into the kitchen to grab some of the cookies you baked.

The phone rang and you picked it up, setting your plate of treats back down to the counter. The voice on the other end was one of the nurses at the hospital, she spoke softly so as to not alarm you.

“Lee is here,” you thought that was odd, he knew you didn’t work today so there was no reason for him to be there, unless.

“Madge, why is he there?” your voice was a little shaky, worried about what her answer would be.

“Y/N, he got shot in the stomach and arm, Dr. Reynolds is treating him now but I thought you’d want to know,” your heart sank. The thought of losing him hurt your soul, a part of you wanted to go out with him, to finally give in to his sweet charm and hold him. That part became ever so obvious at that moment, you realized just how much you cared for the sheriff and would thoroughly be upset for never taking a chance. You hung up the phone and rushed to the hospital, driving your yellow 1964 Mustang instead of your usual walking method.

You entered the room where Lee was recovering from surgery. He was laid up in bed asleep, bandages around his arm and abdomen. He looked so peaceful, so sweet and innocent. You took off your coat and laid it on the chair, sitting beside his bed, listening to him sleep. His chest slowly rose and fell in his drug-induced slumber. You admired his face, so soft without the stress of waking life, every wrinkle and stress line was relaxed and his cheeks were full and round. You had to admit he was beautiful.

You stayed in that chair for an hour before he woke up, barely able to open his eyes as he looked around the room. You were the only one there besides the other nurse but she only came in once, leaving him to you since you knew what to do. Lee turned his head and saw you sitting beside him, an instant smile sweeping across his face as his eyes barely hung open.

“My darlin’, you’re everywhere I look. You must care ‘bout me unless I’m in heaven right now.” His voice was drawn out and slurred from the drugs but the joy in his voice was present. You smiled and stood up, standing next to his bed and running a couple fingers through his hair.

“You’re alive sheriff-” he cut you off, eyebrows pushing together as he shook his head slightly.

“What did I say about that, doll?”

“Sorry, you’re alive Lee, just banged up pretty bad,” his smile came back then fell away again, starting to feel the wounds in his body. He’d gotten caught between some people robbing one of the stores and ended up on the wrong side of a gun. He’d pull through, but he’d need to take a few weeks to heal up and you knew he probably needed someone to take care of him so he doesn’t overdo it.

“And you came here to see me, aw-shucks baby,”

“Lee, I’m a nurse, it’s in my nature. Plus, this is the most action I’ve seen the entire time I’ve been here, I wasn’t gonna pass up some bullet holes.” You teased, resting your hand on the bed. Lee chuckled then immediately regretted it, the pain in his stomach swelled up and spread through his body. He groaned, face twisting in pain. You frowned. You didn’t like seeing him like this, all vulnerable and hurt, the hurt of no one else visiting also showed on his face and you just wanted to comfort him. You stayed with him until you had to leave, needing to rest before your shift began. He protested heavily but there were other post-Christmas patients that needed tending.

A week passed and Lee was being discharged. You came into his room and he sat on the edge of his bed, trying to get his belt buckled with one hand. You chuckled as you came around him, taking his hand in yours and pulling it away from the belt.

“Let me,” you smiled at him, pulling the belt tight and slipping it through the buckle. Lee swallowed hard as he watched you handle his belt, jaw clenching at the closeness and tease of your fingers at his waistline. He’d often imagined you playing with his belt, delicate fingers unbuckling it and letting it fall open before your hands worked on the button and zipper of his pants. The tension grew as you leaned into him, pushing his body back against the bed as you reached for his jacket. Your nose almost touched his as his eyes flicked between yours and your lips. When you pulled back, Lee exhaled, not realizing he was holding his breath. God, you did things to him. His heart was racing and he was glad to not be hooked up to the monitor anymore. You were fully aware of what you were doing, admittedly you liked to tease him a bit, wanting to allow yourself to fall for him but never being able to commit.

“Come on, I’m taking you home,” you said as you handed him the jacket. His ears perked up and a smile crept back on his face.

“Finally, I’ve been waiting for you to come on by,”

“To rest, Lee.” You rolled your eyes at him. Helping him with his things as he winced all the way to the car. He slid a hand over the top of your Mustang with an approving smile. He hadn’t seen it before, you usually kept it under a tarp at home and walked everywhere. He wasn’t sure why you would hide such a beautiful car but you wanted to strengthen your hip back up after your previous injury to it, that’s why you loved to walk.

When you arrived at his house, you helped him out of the car, sliding the keys from his jacket pocket and letting him inside. Lee sat on the couch with a groan and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. You laid out his prescriptions on the table and told him what they were and when to take them.

“You got any water here?” you asked as you headed to the kitchen.

“A beer will be fine,” you rolled your eyes, checking the fridge for any bottles but only seeing cases of alcohol and barely any food. You searched the cabinets until you found the cups, an assortment of mismatched dishes cluttered the shelves. You grabbed one of the only ones that didn’t have a chip in it, filled it with tap water, and brought it back into the living room, setting it next to the pills.

“No beer, Lee, I mean it. Not while you’re taking these pills. And you need to get some food in here, what do you even eat?”

“I go to the diner, no need keepin’ food here,” he gave you an innocent smile. You tsked and headed for the door.

“Stay there, and don’t get a beer, please?” you looked at him as he threw his hands up.

“Just for you, I won’t, darlin’,” you shook your head and left, heading to the grocery store to pick him up some items.

When you came back, Lee was changed into something more comfortable and was laying on the couch asleep. The radio played music softly in the background and the glass of water on the table was almost empty. You grabbed the old quilt from the back of the couch and laid it over him, bringing his uninjured arm, which hung to the floor, up to lay on the couch. You let him sleep as you unloaded the groceries and prepared him some lunch.

An hour had passed as you stocked his kitchen and made a full meal, including some for leftovers he could just reheat. You removed the alcohol from the fridge and placed it up high, somewhere out of sight so he’d be more likely to just grab something healthy instead. You plated his food and brought it into the living room.

“Lee?” you gently brushed his arm, trying not to startle him awake. He started to stir and you whispered his name again.

“My darlin’,” he didn’t open his eyes but reached up to grab your hand that was on his arm. You melted a little at his touch, he was warm and his rough hand was big on yours. You watched him slowly wake up, eyes fluttering open to see your beautiful face standing over him. “Beautiful as ever.” You couldn’t help but smile. Eventually, he was going to wear you down enough with his praise that you would at least go to dinner with him.

“You need to eat,” you helped him sit up and handed him the plate of chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables. Gravy covered everything but the veggies and a new glass of water sat on the table. You brought over one of his TV dinner trays and set it up in front of him.

“I haven’t had a home-cooked meal in ages, you’re too good to me,” he reached over and grabbed your hand again and squeezed it, his eyes full of love. No one had ever really treated him with real respect and kindness, especially after hearing about his scandals, but despite you rejecting him, you still treated him kindly.

“It’s just lunch, Lee, don’t get your hopes up,” you reminded him. You didn’t fully believe that you could resist him though, seeing his stupidly sweet smile every time he looked at you was giving you hope and butterflies. You sat in the armchair next to the couch and ate with him, going over his healing process and what he can and cannot do. He was actually pleasant company, he talked about things he didn’t with other people and he seemed more personable than he did in uniform.

The day had gone by pretty quickly and you had to get back to work. You cleaned up the dishes and told him about his new groceries, demanding that he eat at home instead of trying to drive to the diner. The chuckle he gave you wasn’t convincing you that he’d actually do as you said, but you couldn’t control his every move.

“Alright, Lee, I gotta go now,” you picked up your coat from the back of the armchair and slid into it.

“Aw, darlin’, don’t go, we were having such a good time.” His voice was pleading and sweet, it would’ve gotten you to stay if you didn’t need to be at work. You looked over his face, his blue eyes staring up at you from the couch with his right arm in a sling. He looked sad, the creeping feeling of being alone overtaking his expression and dimming his eyes. You didn’t want to care about him as much as you did, you wished you could just forget about him and go on with your life alone. But here he was, looking forlorn and lost, desperate for you to stay, and you couldn’t help but feel for him.

“I’ll be back, but I gotta work, Lee. Just be good and try to rest.” You walked over to him, pressing a firm kiss to the top of his head. He melted into it, it had been so long since he’d felt any affection, especially one that seemed genuine. When you left, he slumped into the couch, the loneliness creeping back in as he looked around the empty house, already missing your liveliness and presence.

You visited him every day, taking your lunch breaks to eat with him and coming before and after work to make sure he was doing alright. At night, you’d help him clean his wounds and tell him how to properly bathe without irritating the injuries. He had insisted that you give him the sponge bath, stating that it hurt too much for him to do it himself, but you knew better. You’d roll your eyes and catch his smirk, he knew you wouldn’t fall for it but he had to try.

One night he had tried to go back to work too early and split his stitches open. Instead of going back to the hospital, he just asked that you stitch him up on the couch, to save himself the embarrassment of doing too much too early. You did as such, gently cleaning and stitching the wound as he watched you. Your hands were steady, carefully moving the needle between his skin and knotting it in place. You did this until he had a line of stitches along his abdomen.

After that, you had been staying on his couch, worried that he might cause himself more harm. You brought over some blankets and pillows and a small tote of things you needed and made camp in his living room. After the third night, your body was beginning to feel the effects of the lumpy old couch and you were moving around slower. Your back constantly ached and you couldn’t get a good night's sleep. Lee had taken notice of this and insisted that you sleep in his bed. Naturally, you refused, settling yourself back onto the couch and telling him to go to sleep, but he tossed his blanket over his shoulder and came out to the living room.

“You take the bed, I’ll take the couch,” he lightly kicked your leg to get you to move.

“Lee, you literally have bullet holes in your body, I’m not gonna allow you to sleep on the couch,” you didn’t budge. Instead, you laid down, sliding your blanket over your body. “Go to bed, sheriff.”

“No,” he dropped his blanket and tore yours off, “either I sleep here or we both sleep in the bed, doll, your choice.” He was stubborn, refusing to let you be uncomfortable, especially because of him. You looked at him with disbelief, scrambling to pick up your blanket. You stood up with a huff and rolled your eyes, heading to the bedroom. Lee laid his blanket on the couch, not wanting to assume that you would allow him to sleep next to you. You peaked your head from around the corner and watched him struggle with the blanket.

“Lee, get in here.” He turned around trying to force back a smirk. He followed you into the room and tossed the bedding down.

“Just, just stay on your side, okay?” you sighed, creating a small wall between you with the top sheet. Lee just hummed, settling into the bed and watching you get comfortable. You brought your blanket up to your chin and wrapped up in it. It was a cold December night and his heater was broken, the sight of snow gently falling outside the window only made you colder. You shut your eyes, trying to think of warm places as you curled up.

“It’s warmer over here,” Lee said, voice laced with impure intentions. You didn’t move, just sighed as you ignored his advances. “I’m just sayin’, I hate to see my darlin’ all cold when she could be cuddled up over here,”

“Lee, I’m not your darlin’ and I’m fine where I am,” a small shiver went through your body causing him to chuckle.

“Alright, well if you want to be warm, all you gotta do is ask,” he settled into the mattress, pulling his own blanket up and shutting his eyes. You listened to his breathing as you tried to doze off to sleep. It was steady and calm, the air sweeping gently through his nostrils and out his mouth. You tried to tuck yourself as far as you could into your nook but you couldn’t get any warmer. The blanket wasn’t thick enough to shield you from the crisp winter air, so you had no choice but to turn over, considering cuddling up to Lee. You watched him for a moment, seeing if he would open his eyes at the movement on the bed. He laid there peacefully, eyes shut and mouth slightly agape.

When he didn’t stir, you lightly scooted over, moving the top sheet and gently lifting his blanket. You pressed your body against his and fuck was it warm. You rested your head on his shoulder and snuggled into him, bringing your blanket on top of the both of you and melting against his warm skin. Lee didn’t move, he felt your body lay against his and he suppressed a smile, glad that you felt comfortable enough to take solace in his presence. He loved feeling you against him, your cold body chilling his but warming up quickly. He could stay like that forever.

The next morning, you woke up sprawled out on Lee’s chest. His arm was around your back and you laid lazily across him. He was still asleep, pudgy chest rising and falling with each breath. Admittedly, you wanted to nuzzle against him, planting a kiss on his neck until he woke up and wrapped you in his arms. You had opened yourself up to him more and thought maybe you could allow him in. That was until a sharp pain shot from your hip through the length of your leg.

You jolted up, letting out a small screech in pain as you tried to calm it. Lee startled awake, eyes finding you curled up in a fetal position at the edge of the bed.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” his southern drawl was riddled with concern. He forgot about his own pain as he sat up and reached out to you. You couldn’t speak, the pain pulsing through your body like a thunderous storm. Lee laid his hand on your arm, not wanting to break any boundaries but wanting to let you know he was there. His touch calmed you down as you let the pain run its course, finally subsiding to a small burn in your hip. You straightened out, relaxing for a moment before turning toward him. His face was twisted up with worry as he watched you.

“I’m fine, Lee, I just get some pain in my hip now and then,” you said, not wanting to reveal too much. His hand rubbed your arm, a small gesture of comfort.

“That seemed a little more than some pain, darlin’, you know you can tell me anythin’?” His voice was sincere, he wanted to know how he could help and he wanted nothing more than for you to feel comfortable around him. You sighed, reassuring yourself it was okay to let him in and realizing he probably wouldn’t have let it go anyway.

“Well, ya see back in my hometown, I was engaged to this guy, Darryl. He was all charming at first, took me on dates and scenic views, but after we got engaged he started getting violent,” you clenched your jaw, trying not to relive the memories.

“He would get real angry if things weren’t to his liking, which was every day, and he’d take it out on me. One time it got really bad and he ended up breaking my hip. But after so many trips to the doctor already, he wouldn’t let me go get it looked at so I had to set it myself. It’s never really healed properly and that’s why I have pain. I try to walk to strengthen it, but it doesn’t really go away.” You were wiping away tears now, unable to look him in the eye. You felt shame for some reason, maybe you thought he’d think less of you for it, for staying so long, for ‘allowing’ yourself to be put through that, maybe the fact you were engaged would put him off, you weren’t sure but you just felt embarrassed.

Lee had all but broken down. His eyes were so soft as he looked at you, hurt for what you’d been through, hurt for you going through it alone. He wrapped his arms around you, wincing at the pain in one of them but pulling you close to his chest. You were surprised at his reaction, not wanting to believe he could care about you.

“Oh darlin’, I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he kissed your forehead tenderly, melting away your worries, “but you listen here, I ain’t no lowdown dog that would lay a hand on you like that, any man that would do that to a woman ain’t a man at all. You deserve to be treated with respect, you deserve the world, princess.” Lee’s voice was stern but soft, he wasn’t asking you to believe him, he was telling you matter of factly.

You pressed further into him, accepting his embrace like a warm blanket. You stayed in silence for a while as he comforted you, rubbing small circles into your back and secretly plotting ways to get back at your ex until you had to leave.

“Will I see you back in the morning, doll?” he asked as you put on your coat.

“Actually, I was thinking I could take a break tonight and we can go get dinner?” you smirked at him. Lee’s eyes lit up as you finally accepted his dinner proposal. His round cheeks grew with a large smile and he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“It’s a date,” he winked, the excitement unable to be hidden on his face. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and headed out the door.

You and Lee were back at his house after dinner, laying on his double bed and cuddled up for warmth. When you told your boss you were taking your break to go to dinner with the sheriff, she gave you the rest of the night off, relieved that you were finally accepting his many, many attempts to take you out. His infatuation with you was the talk of the town and people had begun to make bets about when you’d finally agree. The nights at the hospital were always slow anyway, so they’d survive without you. This gave you time to look all nice for him and spend the night at his place.

Lee was gaining more mobility in his arm and didn’t need the sling anymore. He still couldn’t work but he had mustered up enough strength to take a trip to your hometown and find Darryl. When the sheriff knocked on the door of his trailer, he was ready to grab the gun from its holster and shoot him on the spot, but he didn’t think you’d take too kindly to that type of behavior. A good beating was at least forgivable. So, when Darryl answered the door, Lee only hesitated to confirm his identity before laying a brutal beating onto him. He left him bloody and begging for mercy, promising to never cross paths with you again as he sat in his piss-covered jeans.

Lee couldn’t hide his torn-up knuckles from you but seeing the look on his face when you asked where he got the injury was all the information you needed. You knew he had probably visited Darryl, you weren’t sure if he was still alive or not but honestly, you didn’t really care to know. It did make you feel a whole lot better knowing that Lee cared enough to do something like that for you.

Now that you were laid up in bed with him, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of security. You knew by now that Lee was kind and meant well, and seeing how he acted with you told you that he did care. Another feeling arose that you couldn’t ignore for much longer, and that was one of lust. Seeing how soft he was with you and how much he respected you, made you long for him even more.

Lee was going on about his life and absentmindedly caressed your arm, leaving trails of goosebumps behind. You lifted your head from his broad shoulder to look at him, admiring the roundness of his cheeks and how his hardness melted away when he was with you. You smiled at him, your newfound silence making him pause and glance at your watchful eyes.

“Darlin’?” he pushed his eyebrows together and raised them, the movement of his hand stopped as he waited for your response. You didn’t speak, only giving in to the building tension and leaning over to kiss his soft lips. Lee froze, stunned that you had made the first move, especially after months of chase. But he soon twisted his lips into a smile and kissed you back, his hand sliding from your arm to the back of your head. You closed your eyes and moaned softly into him, your emotions overwhelming you as you let go.

Lee was gentle and passionate, being mindful to not do anything you didn’t want. As much as he wanted you, he wanted you to be in control, to navigate where this went. And you did. You pulled him closer, bringing your hand to the back of his neck and deepening the kiss until his body was pressed against yours. Lee hummed softly against your lips, any pain he felt was absent as his mind was just on you. He brought his hand down to your hip and pulled at the skirt of your dress, shifting it up your thighs for mobility. You allowed him to expose your legs, then tossed one over his waist and straddled him. Lee groaned at the shift of weight against his abdomen wound and you pulled back.

“Sorry, do you want me to move?” you asked, lifting your hips up a bit to relieve the pressure.

“Darlin’, I’ve been waiting months to see you on top of me like this, don’t you go anywhere,” you let out a chuckle as his southern accent filled your ears. You leaned back down and kissed him, trailing your lips from his along his jawline and down his neck, nibbling at the skin. Lee moaned and brought his hands up your dress to your ribs, kneading your soft flesh. You pressed your hips against his growing crotch, teasing him through his sweats. The more you ground against him, the more you felt the pressure of his growth on you.

Your hands slide under his shirt, feeling every inch of his squishy body. You loved how pudgy he was, soft fluff over his strong muscles that was perfect for squeezing and cuddling. You couldn’t believe that you had found someone who seemed to love everything about you. It was intoxicating, despite denying him for so long, you were glad that he never gave up. You found yourself enjoying every little attempt he made to get you here, every passing smile and routine visit to the hospital, just to chat and see you, to see if you were ready to take him up on his offer. He was persistent and you loved that.

Lee sat up, keeping you straddled on his lap as he discarded his shirt, revealing scars and a hairy chest. You bit your lip, running your fingers through the hair before holding his cheeks as you kissed him again. Lee moaned into you, the taste of your lips was better than any drug, he was high on you, and every time your tongue slipped into his mouth he thought he was in heaven. He pulled at your dress, breaking the kiss only to yank it off your body then slammed his face back to yours. You felt electricity rush through your body, an eagerness, and excitement that you could barely contain.

“I want you, Lee, I want you so much,” your voice was breathy and soft, the words spilled from your lips like honey, sweet and slow. He flashed his eyes to yours and you saw the world in them. He gazed at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and you were to him.

“Come here, doll,” Lee pulled you against his body, flipping you over and laying your back on the bed with a surprised laugh. The cold air was warm around you, thick with humidity and sexual desire. Lee hooked his fingers in your panties and pulled them down your legs, revealing your dripping core. His jaw clenched at the sight before him, seeing you so wet for him made his heart pound. Lee wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you in place, dipping his face to your slit and placing a tender kiss on it. He looked up at you, admiring your face before he dove into you.

Lee sucked on your clit with such vigor, moaning at the taste of you finally on his tongue. You gripped the sheets as his head bobbed, licking long stripes up your tingling pussy.

“Oh, Lee, that feels so good!” you moaned out, unable to control your breathing as he worked wonders on you. You felt his mouth curl into a smile, tongue never losing pace. Lee pressed further into you, his breathing impacted by your flesh as he sucked on your core. As your moans became more frantic, his pace picked up, tasting every nook and fold of your pussy until you couldn’t control yourself anymore. You cussed out, hands finding his on your thighs and gripping them tightly. Your orgasm rocked through your body in a way that you never felt before. The feeling of his mouth was overwhelming, it was like he was performing magic, swirling and sucking until your legs couldn’t stop shaking and you were gushing into his mouth.

Lee licked up every drop of you, tongue soothing your swollen folds. You were a bit mad at yourself for waiting so long, denying yourself this type of pleasure was soul-crushing, but you were glad to finally be here under his body. Lee sucked on your thighs, biting the soft skin gently before laying kisses in the crease of your hip. He kissed your injured hip so tenderly and lovingly before trailing up your stomach to your breasts. He kneaded one in his hand and sucked on the other, leaving the nipple hard as the cold air graced it. He came up and kissed your lips, engulfing you in such a passionate embrace that could only be compared to the crashing waves of a tsunami, strong and overpowering.

You gripped his back, bringing him closer until you thought you’d meld into one. Lee pressed his crotch against yours, slowly grinding as he moaned against your lips, desperate to feel your walls around him. You pushed at the top of his sweatpants until his hips were bare, he finished your task and took off the pants, returning back to your center. Lee kissed your neck, sucking hard enough that there would definitely be marks in the morning. That would surely be a popular topic of discussion when you went back to work.

Lee lined himself up at your entrance, flicking his eyes to yours before pushing his way in. You gasped at his size, your tight walls gripped his cock as he struggled to push in all the way.

“Is this okay, darlin’?” he whispered into your skin, his lips pressed lightly just under your ear. You nodded, nails digging into his smooth back.

“Yes baby, you’re just so much bigger than I thought,” your voice was shaky, still trying to settle from the intense orgasm he gave you and trying to adjust to his cock. He smirked and hummed against your skin, slowly moving back and forth to loosen you up and get you more comfortable. As your walls began to slick, his thrusts became easier, allowing him to push all the way in until his balls slapped against your body.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good, ya know that?” he growled against you, his hips bucking forward with a few hard movements. You couldn’t speak, only high-pitched moans left your mouth as you felt him fill you up. Lee started going faster, the feeling of your wetness coating him made his eyes roll back. He squeezed them shut, trying to focus on lasting long enough for you to cum again. You were everything he dreamed of, soft and sweet, dripping wet for him and moaning wildly. Your gorgeous body was enough to fill him with uncontrollable lust.

“Oh fuck, Lee, right there, just like that sheriff!” You screamed out as he hit your g-spot. He perked up when you called him sheriff. He’d always wanted you to call him by his name, everyone called him sheriff, but now that you were moaning it? It sent him into a frenzy.

“Oh darlin’,” Lee’s voice was drawn out, your words lingering on his mind and making him well up with pleasure. He kept his pace, not wanting to lose your high. He felt his own orgasm bubbling up in his lower abdomen and he held on as long as he could. With a few more strong thrusts, you were squirting on his cock and drenching his body and bed. The grip of your quivering core made him moan so loudly you thought the neighbors would hear it. He shot his warm load into you, filling you up until it dripped out around his cock.

After you were cleaned up, you were cuddled up next to Lee, fingers lightly playing with his chest hair. You felt safe in his arms, not worried about your past or his, just wanting to stay with him like that forever. Forever ended when you remembered that you hadn’t even given him his Christmas present. You sat up in bed and rushed off to the living room without a word. Lee was puzzled, wondering where you were going until you came back with a wrapped box.

“I never did give you this,” you smiled as you handed him the box. He chuckled and accepted it, sitting up to lean against the headboard. You watched him open the gift and his eyes softened.

“I know it ain’t much, but I thought you’d enjoy it. Maybe once you’re off your meds you can actually put it to use,” you explained, shyly rubbing the back of your neck. Lee marveled at it before setting it on the nightstand and leaning over to kiss you.

“It’s perfect darlin’,” when he pulled away, he reached into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a long black jewelry box. He handed it to you and you looked at it surprised. When you opened the box, inside was a silver chain with the word “darling” encrusted with tiny jewels. You audibly gasped as your eyes welled up with tears.

“Lee, this is too much, I can’t accept this,” you shut the box and handed it back to him. He refused to take it back, pushing it toward you with a sweet smirk.

“You’re my darlin’, nothing is too much for you,” he gently grazed your cheek with his thumb before bringing you into a passionate embrace.

#lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker fluff #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker fanfiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #fanfic #moxmas #bucky

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folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

French Class [7]

A/N: AAAH I apologize in advance for this part bc I feel like it's kinda messy :/ I hope you still like it though?? Lmk what you think! x

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), fwb, f2l?, college!au, fuckboy!bias, nerd!reader, angst, H/N is a jealous and drunk fool :/

words: ~ 3.7 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez, @runaway-fics, @mainexiii, @awfullytiredbuthealing, @erikyoong, @etherealuv, @yeostars, @staysuki, @justcuz-ican, @hyuckthangs, @teenloves, @mexious18-blog, @sunghoonied, @mailobjaeyoon, @tr-wemoon, @prismwon

couldn’t tag: @chorizoek, @r-eadings

H/N’s POV:

Maybe I’ll come ‘round, your text had said. How did you expect him to enjoy the party if you wouldn’t be there? H/N used to make fun of guys who ran after girls like lap dogs. And yet, over time he had become one of them, if not worse. Every text, every possibility of seeing you had him on the edge of his seat in excitement. There was nothing he cared about more than spending time with you. When at first it had been sexual attraction – an obsession with your body and the way you turned him on with the most subtle words and touches – it had changed into something entirely different. The relentless hunger was now occasional, ever so often interrupted by a dire wish to see you smile. A wish to hold you, and to kiss you out of the blue – something he wasn’t allowed to do if it wasn’t for the two of you hooking up. The stupid agreement you had made was starting to feel like torture instead of heaven. He was lucky his poker face was professional, and he had years of practice in flirting and sounding casual even if his heart was beating up to his neck. There was no other way he could have concealed how infatuated he was with you, otherwise.

“H/N, come help me set up the snacks!” Korain shouted from the kitchen. H/N’s friends were throwing a party at their place, and he had shown up early to assist them in preparing everything. With you on his mind – as always – he trotted into the kitchen where a row of bowls was standing out on the counter.

“Just open and pour the bags into the bowls, will you? I still need to get ready,” Korain said. “Chohee said she might be here a bit earlier, and I don’t want to look like this when she’s going to look amazing.”

Korain gestured to his bed hair he probably hadn’t brushed once since getting up and then tweaked the fabric of his sweatpants and his old, baggy tee. H/N wanted to argue that if Chohee really liked Korain, she wouldn’t mind seeing him this way. H/N, for one, couldn’t care less what you wore tonight. As long as you showed up at all, he would be beaming. Strictly speaking, at times when he got to see you wake up, sleep in your eyes and your clothes in a disarray, it spun his head in ways no little black dress could ever do. When he saw you make breakfast in his kitchen, in his shirt, he could barely contain himself.

His daydreams of you were once naughty and gave him boners at random times of the day – and don’t get me wrong, they still were, sometimes – but it was when the domestic dreams had begun, that he realized he was screwed. He didn’t need anybody to tell him how he felt, nor did he have some crazy moment of clarity. There came a point in his days where he didn’t just notice his non-sexual daydreams of you, he invited them. His brain was imagining things like setting up a shared table for dinner or kissing the back of your hand in the dark of a movie theater or playing you a cheesy song that reminded him of you. He wanted to hold your hands from across the library table and have his arm around your shoulders to show you off to the entire campus. But none of it could be real. It all went against the rules.

“Will Y/N be here too?” Korain asked and pulled H/N out of his daydreams. God, I hope so, he thought.

“She said she might be here,” H/N answered.

“Chohee’s always talking about her. And you. About how she thinks Y/N has a crush on you, but she always denies it, saying you’re just friends. Maybe you could try and bring that up tonight?” Korain said, as if discussing your feelings for someone was as easy at conversing about the weather. “Alright, I really have to go get ready now.”

“I’ve been thinking, I might- “ said H/N, but Korain only pat his shoulder.

“Let’s talk later, at the party, okay?” he said, and walked out the kitchen. I might like her, H/N had been meaning to say. I might like Y/N. No. I’m in love with her. No maybes. He could bet all his money on it, that’s how sure he was. But his friend had disappeared and now it was on him to wait until the party began. Left alone with his thoughts.

Of course, you would deny having a crush on him. Because you probably didn’t, he thought. Wouldn’t you search for a smart guy, someone your mother would approve of, and someone who understood your endless talks of nerdy topics? Although sometimes he had no idea what you were on about, H/N was captivated whenever you gave him a lecture about something you had learned. And when he asked you to explain something one more time, you never hesitated, or judged him for it. Your kindness made his heart swell, and only when the first crowd of party guests arrived did he realize he had spent half an hour daydreaming about you. Again.

With the way he kept the front door in his sight at all times, one could have wondered if he was a highly wanted criminal on the run, afraid the cops could barge in at any moment. Some of the girls who tried to flirt with him even asked him about it, but he wasn’t going to confess he was waiting for the love of his life to walk through that very door. With little conviction he returned their flirting. He hated himself for the thoughts he had. Thinking that should you not arrive, he could console himself by taking one of the other girls home instead. They didn’t deserve to be used like that, but he was bitter and so, so in love with you. It was hard to pay any attention to the other girls at all, no matter how sweet they were being.

Flirting back at them, however, came to him as easily as the words to his favorite songs. It posed no challenge, like it did with you. When he had to try hard to make your cheeks heat up, or to lure out a shy smile instead of your genius, quick-witted remarks. There was nothing more exciting to him than to invent new ways in which he could make you flustered.

Right now, it was his turn to be flustered. Because his ex had approached him and was reciting some of her favorite memories she had of their relationship. “Remember our third date…the one that ended with us squished in that tiny dressing room at Victoria’s Secret?” she asked and blinked at him expectantly. He went along with her words and replied something not too direct, but still enough to make her giggle like a little girl.

It was his own fault she was so intent on talking to him. While you had been on your date with the economy-major-guy, H/N had tried to contact his ex again. In hindsight, he thought it pathetic and extremely stupid at that. Nothing would have come of it, anyway. Not while he felt the way he did about you. So it was only lucky his ex hadn’t been free that night. Then he had gotten dangerously close to drowning his feelings in the vodka in his kitchen. Thankfully he had refrained from this, too, because you had shown up afterwards and you had ended up having mind-blowing sex, and he knew for a fact that had he been drunk, he would have blurted out some crazy sentiments he would have regretted saying in the morning.

Sometimes he tried to signal you his emotions, ever so subtly. Waving off your claims when you called him the campus fuckboy or telling you he wasn’t really hooking up with anyone else besides you, it all was an attempt at making you see what he felt for you. He would tell you that you looked pretty, not just so you would understand he liked you, but simply because it had to be said. When he regarded you fixing your hair in the mirror with a frown, he could barely believe you didn’t know how beautiful you were. And he had gotten closer to you during sex. Whether it was voluntary or an instinct that came with being in love, he wasn’t certain. There was nothing like kissing away your moans while he fucked you into a mattress.

He was about to text you – the urge to see you getting unbearable – but didn’t want to sound clingy when you strut through the door. No slow motion or fan blowing your hair around dramatically would have made you look more perfect. The ridiculous pang he felt in his heart when he saw you hug another guy only reminded him of how whipped he was. He reminded himself that he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend, after all. When you then made eye contact with him and made a beeline for him, he was worried he’d be short of words. He needed to pull himself together.

“Hi,” you said, and your smile was magical enough to stir up the butterflies in H/N’s stomach. You pointed at the empty spot on the sofa between H/N and another guy you didn’t know. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” the guy said, before H/N had time to speak, and the stranger smiled at you in a way that could only mean he wanted to get to know you. But H/N caught your attention by swiftly putting his arm around your shoulder, making the stranger back up and divert his eyes the other way. He had never meant to be the jealous type. It was just that you were finally here, and he was so happy to see you, he couldn’t bare the thought of you running off again. Only when you gave him a funny look H/N realized he needed to calm down if he didn’t want you to get annoyed.

“So, what did I miss?” you asked.

His ex was approaching from across the room again, and before he could have stopped his mouth, he said the stupidest thing. “Kiss me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but he was intent on it. “Please. Kiss me. Quick.”

There was a strange emotion that crept over your face, and you seemed to have no clue why he was so set on it. Nevertheless, you did as he asked. Your mouth tasted of watermelon bubblegum, so sweet, so perfect, and he was flying on cloud nine for the short while it lasted. It wasn’t real, though. The thought stabbed his brain like a dagger. When you pulled apart you were grinning, and his ex wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Care to explain why we just did that?” you asked. “You’re diminishing your chances with the ladies in the room.”

He rolled his eyes. “My ex has been trying to get with me again, and I hoped she’d let off if she saw us kiss. And she did.” Then his eyebrows raised. “What do you mean by my chances with the ladies? I was hoping we could go home together.”

“I can’t tonight,” you said, and he had to fight to keep his face straight. “I’ve got to get back to studying first thing tomorrow morning. I just came here to hang out, for a while.”

“Oh,” was all he could muster without sounding like you were ripping out his heart. It wasn’t even your fault. He would never try and get between you and your studies. But what if he could be there? What if he could be the one staying in bed, watching as you climbed up early to bury your head in books? He’d watch you through tired eyelashes, and you’d ridicule him for being so starry-eyed when looking at you. Later he’d bring you tea or coffee and remind you to take a break to eat. Was it ludicrous to obsess over something so domestic? He didn’t feel guilty for it.

All at once, your laugh pulled him out of his daydream, and into a funny story you told him. Over-consciously, he noted how your arm went around his shoulder lazily. And for a while you sat and talked. Occasionally a flirty remark slipped over your lips, and he would always return it. It was idiotic, but he was already worrying about how much he would miss you once you went home. Perhaps his plan of consoling himself with another girl hadn’t been so bad, after all. Just as he had finished the thought, a familiar face walked by and noticed him. The alcohol in his veins made her seem perfectly inviting as a distraction, for later.

“Oh, hey. Y/N, this is Minji,” he said, pointing at the girl. “Minji, this is Y/N. She’s…just a friend.”

Instantly, you removed your arm from his shoulder. There was hidden pain in your gesture, or was it merely wishful thinking on his side? Minji nodded and greeted you, but you only waved her off with a polite smile.

“I’m going to get a drink from the kitchen,” you announced, and before he could have stopped you, you had walked off. For a while he chatted with Minji, because he had no good reason to run after you that wouldn’t create awkwardness. His patience lasted approximately ten minutes. Luckily, a friend waved at Minji from across the room and she excused herself. Although he would never wish her ill, he was glad she was leaving.

Quickly, he made his way to the kitchen, where he found you talking to a guy. Without thinking, H/N smiled at you as he came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. He hadn’t meant to look so intimidating, and he hadn’t meant to be an asshole either. Yet, the guy across from you appeared scared and when you turned your attention to H/N, the guy slowly retracted into another circle of chatting people. Guilt crept in on H/N. He was tipsy, and although he knew his drunkenness wasn’t an excuse, it made him want you so much more. Perhaps it was also insecurity making him act crazy. There was always a glimmer of hope in the back of his mind, that you might just like him back. So long as you hadn’t confirmed the opposite, he would live in constant terror that someone else could steal your attention and make you theirs before he could.

“Come with me,” you muttered in his ear. Your hand was around his wrist, and he had no choice but to trot after you like a child. At first, he thought you were going to take him out the front door, but then you made a turn for the stairs. He didn’t need to be a fuckboy to know what it meant when a girl walked him up the stairs. From one second to the other, his mood changed into gleefulness. Had you changed your mind? The mere thoughts of what could happen upstairs could have given him a boner, had he pondered on them for longer. You said nothing, only driving him more insane by the second. The first open door was good enough for you, so you pulled him inside and closed it behind you. Smirking, he reached for your waist, ready to pull you into a kiss.

“Don’t,” you hissed, and he flinched at your angry tone. He kept his hands to himself, kneading them nervously. Shit. This was the clear opposite of what he had anticipated. The two of you had never fought, and hearing your voice, sounding so deeply upset, scared him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” you asked.

“I’m sorry, I thought you wanted to make out- “ he said.

“I don’t mean just now. I mean…what is it you’re trying to achieve by acting all possessive over me in front of random guys? Pretending I belong to you? But the second a pretty girl is in front of you I’m just a friend, aren’t I? What’s that about?”

There was no explaining this, and he knew it. Yet, he would try, pathetically. “I just thought you didn’t want those guys bothering you.”

“I can handle a guy by myself, thank you,” you snapped. “If I needed help, I’d ask. Like you did. Apparently, I’m good enough to be used as an escape from your ex, but when hot Minji came around you wouldn’t even blink when I got up and left.”

“Usedas an escape?” he asked in disbelief. “You didn’t have to kiss me, but you did anyway.��

“That’s because I was trying to be a good fucking friend!” you yelled now, sounding over the music from the party.

“You used me too, don’t you remember?” he countered. “Or did you not show up on my doorstep after your terrible date so I would fuck you and make you feel better?”

You looked taken aback for a moment, knowing he was right, in a way.

“It’s like you’re always trying to get away from me, but you can’t,” he said.

“Oh, fuck you!” you said, every trace of guilt washed away. “Get off your high horse! Isn’t that the whole point of us? That we’re using each other for sex? Nothing more than that, right? If I walked out now, you could go and find the next girl in line to take over instead of me. Didn’t you try to see someone while I was chatting to the guy I went on a date with? It’s all about using people, isn’t it? If things with the guy had gotten more serious for me, you’d have her, ready for you. Don’t you think that’s a little messed up? Leading someone on like that?”

There was truth to your words. He had tried to find someone to date, should you have found someone too and your friends-with-benefits relationship had been over. But he hadn’t led her on. He had been honest in letting the girl know he wasn’t sure if he wanted anything serious. His chest was hurting, and the pain was only making him more furious.

“Yeah, I could have switched you for her,” he said coldly. Was he only trying to hurt you now? Perhaps, but you had hurt him first.

“Right, because that’s all I am to you,” you said, quieter than before.

“That was our plan! You’re my fuck buddy, nothing more!” he raised his voice now, tired of your empty words and signs. “You have no right to accuse me of anything when I’m playing by the rules. The rules you made. Maybe we should go back to the beginning. Start the game over. I don’t even know what we’re arguing about right now.”

“Start over?”

“Go back to when we were just horny for each other and nothing else,” he said, as if that would be possible. As if he could ignore the way your eyes shined, even in the dim light coming from the streetlamps outside. Like he could pretend he didn’t want to hold you and make you forget all about this terrible fight.

“Fine, let’s try,” you said, and he watched in astonishment, as you closed the gap between the two of you. When you tilted your head, he gave you permission by doing the same. When you kissed, with teeth clashing and exhausted sighs mixing up, he swore there were bombs going off somewhere in his head. Alarm bells, too. This was by no means a great idea. But what could have stopped him and his hungry mouth? He backed you against the wall and pressed you into it, hard. Before he had registered it, his hands were pushing up the fabric of your dress and you moaned, sounding so beautiful he could barely believe it. One of his thighs forced its way between your legs while he gripped your waist like his life depended on it.

But then, just as rapidly you had begun to kiss him, you pushed him away. His lungs felt tight when he noticed the affliction and confusion on your face. He wished he could make it go away. But he had caused it, so now his presence only made things worse.

“No- no, I change my mind. This is fucking stupid,” you said. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Y/N,” he said in a gentle tone. Somehow, it seemed that his careful voice hurt you most of all.

“I think we should stop. All of this,” you said. He was beginning to shake his head in disbelief, but you cut him off. “We said there wouldn’t be jealousy, but there obviously is. We should have stopped long ago.”

“But what about starting the game again, from the beginning?” he asked, too afraid of what you would say to even look at you. If you were going to rip out his heart you should have done so quickly, when he wasn’t paying too close attention.

“The game’s over. This is going over both of our heads,” you said. “I- I’m going to go home now.”

So this was heartbreak. H/N had never considered that it could be meant so literally. But he could swear that the muscle inside his chest was convulsing and shriveling as if you had stolen the blood that kept him alive right from his arteries. The pain was sharp like a thousand cuts had been inflicted on his skin, and he struggled for words like your words had taken every of his most elemental abilities.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“No,” you said. “You’re drunk. You’re the one who could need someone to walk you home. And I don’t want you around me right now. Get home safely.”

That was it. No hug. No last, longing look. Just your words stabbing like knives and your ethereal beauty as you turned on your heel and walked from the room, leaving him behind, bleeding out by himself. What had he done?

209 notes · View notes

absolutelyfizzing · 3 years

Text

He can't hurt you anymore

Bucky x reader

Description - Reader is the barista that Bucky has befriended at his local coffee shop but he thinks you may be hiding something. Your boyfriend might not be as kind as he tries to come off as. One day Bucky investigates and intervenes. Takes place around TFATWS but the shield isn't a factor. After the events of Endgame. Its pretty platonic Buck x Reader but it's sort of implied that future romance is probably a thing.

Warnings - TW DOMESTIC ABUSE!!! This is a big part of the story, if this is triggering for you, DO NOT READ THIS!! If you are in a situation where you need help getting out of an abusing household please get help. also endgame spoilers! Theres some cussing as well and female pronouns are used.

Word count - 4700 ish?

A/N - I am writing this from how an abusive relationship was for ME, how I acted, and the ways that I felt. This is in no way a generalization of how these situations are for most people nor is it a romanticization of abuse. Please reach out to someone or even me if you need help or you want to talk about anything. Do not read this story if you will be harmed by reading this, PLEASE.

MASTERLIST

Bucky's favorite part of his day was when he went to get coffee from the small shop down the street from his apartment. He didn't have many places he liked to go outside of the small room that he often felt trapped him but he knew that it was good for him to get out and interact with people. His therapist had told him as much.

He really didn't even like the coffee that much, he found that it made him jittery, but he went just to say hi to you. He always got the same order and usually got there around the same time so sometimes you would even have his coffee ready just as he was walking in. When you did things like that it made his heart flutter. He liked you in a romantic way but you only ever lightly flirted. Not wanting to scare you away, he never pressed and he kept his conversation moderately friendly. He had noticed that sometimes you seemed off. More so than he would say might be caused by a bad day.

On these days your eyes would be flying around the room and your hands shaky. You normally had bags under your eyes and you might even have bruises around your body. He also noticed that on those days you would cover up more but he could catch a glimpse of a purple bruise on your arm under your sleeve when you moved.

As he walked into the shop, he saw that today would be one of those days. He had been going to the coffee shop that you were at for probably 6 months and he had never seen you this shaken up. You seemed to be fully zoned out as you automatically did the cleaning in front of you. He had to clear his throat a bit to get you to notice him and when he did he regretted it. You flinched and your shoulders tensed before looking over to him. You relaxed a bit and a wide smile appeared on your face. He could vaguely tell it seemed to be fake but it was one of the best fake smiles he had ever seen. He almost commented on it before he noticed the bruises on your neck and arm.

"You okay?" He questioned, eyebrow quirked and his tone lightly teasing. He guessed they might be from whoever you were sleeping with having been a bit rough, something that he wouldn't have judged you for anyway. When you tensed up a bit and drew your hand to your neck he saw the look of slight fear cross your eyes.

"Oh I'm fine!" You recovered, "Didn't have time to cover them up this morning." You smiled and put your arm back down. It looked like you were going with his guess that they were from your boyfriend but in a non threatening way. His smile lessened a bit and he got out his wallet.

"Well, you know the drill. Medium americano with cream and sugar please." He sighed and he put some money in your tip jar while winking at you. You blushed and nodded before turning around to get started on his order.

While you were turned around he heard the bell on the door ring signaling that someone had entered. He turned to see who it was only to be met with an unfamiliar face. This was a bit of a rare occurrence considering he came here so often and he knew almost all of the other people who walked in. This man was large and domineering. He didn't look abnormal in any way, just that his eyes didn't hold the kindness that Bucky searched for when meeting someone new. The man pushed past Bucky to stand at the counter and knocked on it loudly, trying to get your attention. When you turned, you looked like you saw a ghost.

James studied you carefully as the color slowly came back to your face and the large smile that didn't quite seem right was plastered on your face again.

"Hey, babe! Can I get you something?" you asked him kindly and James realized that this must be your boyfriend. He noticed the slight waver that was in your voice as you spoke to to man and the way that your hands began to shake a bit.

"No thanks, I just wanted to check on you to see how you were doing and to apologize again. I was just heading in to work." Your boyfriend smiled and you flinched for a moment before taking a deep breath, bracing yourself.

"No worries, I already told you I forgave you." You grinned, this one looking more like it reached your eyes. "Have a good day at work!" You chirped at him. His hand came to your cheek and James saw you flinch before the man leaned in to kiss you. As soon as he pulled away and left, you turned back to the drink you were making for Buck and your hands were unsteady.

"Are you alright, Y/N?" He tentatively asked. He didn't want to push but he had a bad feeling stuck in his stomach.

You turned to him, ready drink in hand, "I'm doing great, thank you for asking, James" You smiled and Bucky nearly swooned when you used his name. He adjusted his glove a bit and fidgeted with the sleeve on his metal arm, a habit he had when he was anxious.

"Do you mind if I drink it up here? I'd love to chat a bit." He did this pretty often. There was a seat next to the counter for employees that he would occupy on days where the shop wasn't too busy. You gazed at him and nodded enthusiastically.

"How are you now that you're all settled into the new place?" You asked gently and he smiled. He appreciated that you remembered details about him. It made him feel less crazy for having known so much about you.

"It's good! The bed still doesn't feel right and there are still boxes lying around but I cant seem to get myself to unpack all the way. If I didn't have this part of my day then I think I'd be bored out of my mind" He said. You blushed a bit and smiled. You always liked hearing about how he was doing, you worried about him. He had told you at some point that he was a veteran and that he had some issues adapting to his new life. You didn't bring it up often so as to not scare him off but you liked to check in when you could.

"You might want to start looking for something else to occupy your time then, I don't know how much longer I'm going to be here." You mumbled. You were still smiling a bit but your gaze had saddened.

"What do you mean? Are you leaving the city? Heading back home?" he questioned quickly. You had told him that you weren't originally from New York. You chuckled a bit at his panic.

"No, but might be moving in with my boyfriend, that guy who came in earlier." You explained but he still had a confused look on his face.

"Why does that mean you wont be working here?"

"Oh I don't know, he is trying to get me to quit while I'm figuring out life and stuff. Thinks I might be more helpful around the house and he has enough to support us both." you tried to explain but you knew the logic in your statement was flawed. The reality was that your boyfriend wanted you to be financially dependent on him but you were ignoring that as the bruises around your throat reminded you what happened to girlfriends who talked back. You looked into Bucky's eyes to find him staring sadly.

"You should be able to keep working if you want to." He sounded urgent and you laughed it off.

"You're just mad cause you won have an excuse to see your favorite barista anymore." As you turned back to the cleaning around the shop to do. It was a quiet morning so the silence was slightly deafening. You both didn't speak for a couple minutes before James broke the silence.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" he asked very lightly. Like he didn't want to scare you off. "I'm guessing your boyfriend left those marks and earlier when he came in-"

"It was an accident" You stated quickly. Urgently. Pleadingly. You still weren't looking at him but you had stopped cleaning. "He didn't mean to, he felt bad about it." You continued before turning to James. There were tears in your eyes and you tried to smile reassuringly.

"Those kinds of accidents shouldn't happen, Y/N" He muttered, trying not to make you feel attacked at all but also wanting to let you know that he knew something was wrong.

"It was my fault." You began.

"There is no way-"

"No it was. I messed something up and-and it was on me. James, you don't need to worry about me." Your voice was shaking a bit. "Please, don't worry about me." you were pleading. Your eyes were begging.

You both stood in silence for a moment before you began moving around. You didn't really have a task to be doing but you couldn't be still. You just couldn't be still.

"I am worried" he whispered and you felt the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. You knew you situation wasn't good but you didn't feel like there was anything you could do. And you were partially still convinced that your boyfriend didn't mean it, even though past experiences had already proved you wrong. You knew that after the 5th time, it wasn't accidental. But fear and guilt held you back. You were not an aggressive person. When he yelled at you he made you feel weak. You crumbled. You would never be able to escape.

You went through the rest of your shift in moderate silence. You worked when customers came in and when they left you would try to make yourself seem busy around the shop. James sat patiently, you knew he was gong to want to walk you back to your boyfriend's apartment. Your stomach clenched as you prayed that your boyfriend wouldn't be home.

After your shift you agreed to let James walk you home, you only lived a few blocks away. You didn't talk much and you felt guilty for creating that atmosphere. When you reached your building you stopped and turned to him.

"Thank you for walking me home." You smiled. "I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked and Bucky nodded.

When you turned to head into you building, he didn't leave. He waited. He knew something was wrong but he didn't want to create a mess for you if he didn't need to. He stood against the building before walking in behind someone who was entering. He made his way to the address he had caught on your key earlier and stopped about 3 floors down from yours. He wouldn't intervene unless you needed him and he could listen in from further away. One of the few times he was thankful for the super serum.

"Where have you been?" a growl sounded.

"I was just-"

"Your shift ended 30 minutes ago. Were you talking to that leather wearing asshole? Huh?" There was a yell. "Were you cheating on me, you bitch?!"

"No, babe, Bucky just walked me home, he was just being nice. The person taking over my shift was just a little-"

"He walked you home?" He screamed, "You're just whoring yourself out to anyone now, huh?"

At this point Bucky had heard enough but he noticed that the stairs were closed and the elevator was taking forever. He was hitting himself for not going up to your floor to be more prepared. His heart was pounding and he could feel his eyes watering.

"Babe, I'm sorry, he didn't mean anything by it, I promise-"

He heard a yelp and something making impact and he decided he was done waiting. He didn't know why the stairs were closed but it didn't matter. He broke the door to the stairwell open and he sprinted up them as fast as possible. It was easier to hear your whimpers as he got closer and he could still hear hitting.

When he made it to the door he didn't hesitate to break it in. When he entered the apartment he felt eyes on him. In the corner of your living room you were hunched in a corner, breathing heavily with tears streaming down your face and a fresh broken lip, your boyfriend leering over you with his fist clenched.

"Get the fuck away from her." Bucky felt himself growl. He didn't want to hurt this guy in front of you, knowing that would traumatize you more, but it was taking everything in him not to snap his neck right then.

"What the fuck are you gonna do?" Your boyfriend sneered, "You have no right to come in here and tell be how I'm supposed to deal with my girlfriend. Get the fuck out!" Your boyfriend had moved away from you and you took a bit of a breath. Bucky noticed the shaking of your body as you breathed and he saw red.

Before he really considered what he was doing Bucky was already moving toward the man in the middle of the room, his metal hand clenched. He moved to grab your boyfriend's arm and when he tried to block, going into the fight cocky, Bucky decided he would put him in his place. With what seemed to be minimal effort, Bucky turned the mans arm around and jammed his knee into his back. Once your boyfriend was on the floor, in less than 10 seconds, Bucky had his knee on his chest and his metal arm on his neck.

"You will never lay another finger on her again, you understand me? You're gonna go to fucking prison and you'll never be able to get near her again." Bucky growled at the man who was struggling futilely beneath him. He pressed on his neck harder and waited for his body to give out, holding long enough that he would be knocked out for at least a few minutes so he could get you out of there.

Bucky looked up at you and you were still shaking in the corner, seemingly still terrified. You looked so different from the girl he had come to know. Bucky realized that he might have just made you more scared of him but he knew it was worth it to get you out of the situation. You gulped and took a deep shaky breath before moving to stand up. Bucky moved to stand also to go over and help you but you immediately say back down.

"Hey, doll. I'm not gonna hurt you-" Bucky started but you cut him off.

"I know, I know I just..." You took another shallow breath and looked at the man Bucky was no longer holding down. He could get free and move toward you now if he were to wake up. Bucky understood your gaze sighed a bit, looking around the apartment he now realized probably belonged to your boyfriend. He then noticed the belt on your boyfriend and moved to take it off so he could tie him up with it. He heard you whimper and he made a guess as to why, his heart clenching once again. He quickly bound the large man's hands and attached him to a support beam in the middle of the room. He checked the bindings using larger movements than he needed to so that you would see they were tight from your spot across the room. Bucky then stood and slowly made his way near you. Instead of trying to get very close, he opted to sit against the wall about halfway between you and the man tied up in the room, trying to make sure that you didn't feel threatened by him and that you knew your boyfriend was no longer a threat.

"I'm gonna call a friend okay? You're okay now." Buck said gently to you and you nodded. Your eyes were watery as tears began to fall and you scooted a little closer to Bucky, still not sitting close enough to touch. Bucky made no move to push you. He instead just dialed the only person he could think of.

"Hey, Sam... You in town?.. I know but I need some help. I need the police here and if you could drive too that would be great. I got someone here I don't want going in a cop car... I know that's a lot to ask but I wouldn't be asking if it weren't serious... Please?.. That would be great if she's there." It seemed that the 'please' made the person on the other line agree. Bucky hung up and looked toward you. "Someone's on the way, okay? Do you need anything right now or need any medical help thats urgent?"He tried to be gentle but he couldn't hide the fear in his voice. If there was severe damage somewhere he needed to know now.

"N-no, it wasn't that bad. It's just my face and my ribs I guess but I've healed from worse." You mumbled, trying to be reassuring but then realizing that you may have made him feel worse. "I'm sorry" You mumbled as the tears began again.

"Whoa, what on earth are you sorry for?" Bucky asked as he felt his own eyes begin to water.

"Its just that-" you took a breath for a moment and tried to calm your shaking, "this isn't your job and I'm sorry that you have to deal with it and that I couldn't do it on my own." You cried a bit, Bucky barely being able to make out your words with how quietly you were speaking. He wasn't entirely sure how to help. He experimentally slid a hand along the floor toward you going very slowly so you could move or tell him to stop if you wanted. Instead you moved your hand and reached out so your fingers were touching on the floor. You still didn't move closer to him but the nonthreatening contact made you feel a bit better. He spoke up quietly.

"Y/N, I know this has been a really hard day for you and probably been rough for however long you've been with that asshole but you need to understand that this is not your fault. You did not make him do this to you and you did not deserve it. You will never be in a room alone with him again, okay?" He made decisive eye contact with you and you nodded a bit. "I am going to make sure that nothing happens to you now, I'm not gonna let anyone hurt you again." He sounded reassuring and you scooted just close enough that his hand was holding yours. He smiled lightly at you and you jumped as you heard a knock at the doorframe of the entrance where the door had been practically broken off its hinges.

You tensed up immediately and Bucky stood a bit protectively in front of you, letting go of your hand in the process. You saw a tall kind looking man at the doorway, his frame slightly hunched to make sure that he didn't startle you too much. You looked at him a bit fearfully and took a deep breath before glancing at Bucky and then smiling lightly at the man in the doorway. He watched you carefully as he stepped into the apartment.

"Hey there, my name is Sam, I'm just gonna get him out of here. There's a police car with his name on it downstairs. I brought someone with me who's going to help get you out of here to somewhere safe, okay?" He smiled at you as he moved toward the man tied up in the center of the room. As the bindings came off you skittered back toward the corner a bit and only eased once he was dragged out of the room. From the doorway came a redhead with bags under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't gotten good sleep in a while and you felt like you recognized her from somewhere.

"I'm Pepper, is it okay if I come in?" She looked nice and she had a motherly presence. You nodded and smiled a bit. Her gaze softened further and she walked slowly toward you and as she walked past Bucky she touched his arm lightly, conveying something that you didn't quite understand. "Can I help you up?" she asked as she stood in front of you, her hand reached out. You nodded and put your hand in hers, allowing her to pull you up. You felt the damage that had been done more clearly when you stood up, there was definitely something wrong with your ribs and your stomach. She carefully and slowly put an arm around your shoulders as she herded you out of the apartment. you looked back to where Bucky was standing and he smiled at you reassuringly but his eyes seemed sad. You let yourself be led to a car outside with a man that Pepper called "Happy" driving. She sat in the back with you and made casual one sided conversation to put you at ease.

Back at your apartment Bucky began to try to pack you a bag. He knew that Pepper would take good care of you and wouldn't let anything happen. He would meet you at the Avengers tower later, assuming you would be staying there until you felt comfortable living by yourself at your own apartment again. He moved through your ex's apartment with a critical gaze, noting holes in the wall and a gun in the corner. He presumed it was to protect against home intruders but he didn't doubt that it had been used to threaten you too. He found the bedroom and got to work getting some things that he thought you might want like a hoodie that looked like yours and some personal belongings that were clearly your possessions. He was trying very hard not to accidentally grab something that was your ex's and once he had a full bag he headed out. He saw Sam leaned against the wall outside your building and Bucky immediately got worried.

"Wheres-"

"He's already booked at the precinct, I've got my guys on it and he isn't going anywhere." Sam reassured, having known what Bucky was going to ask. They began walking to the tower, not wanting to get in a car and knowing that the walk wasn't going to be too long.

"Sorry I had to call you, I know you were probably busy. I just didn't know who else to ask." Bucky stated quietly.

"You did the right thing, Buck. You probably saved that girl's life back there." Sam smiled a bit at the man next to him and Bucky felt a smile tug at his mouth too.

They both made light conversation as they made their way back to the tower. When they did, Bucky took a deep breath. He hadn't been back here since right after Steve left. He hadn't seen Pepper in a long time either. He needed to talk to her when he got inside to thank her and to see if she was okay. He knew she probably didn't want to see him very much but she had still helped you when he asked.

Back at the tower you were finally cleared from the medical wing. You were still shaky but you were masking it pretty well and you were about back to where you functioned daily where you could fake smiles if you needed to. Pepper stayed by you the whole time and you met a little girl named Morgan who was very excited to tell you stories that put you at ease. Eventually Pepper led you to a room that she said you could use to sleep and shower in for now and that you could call the AI if you needed anything at all. You asked it to tell you when Bucky got back and it said it would. You also now knew that you recognized her as Iron Man's wife but you didn't mention it, knowing she had lost her husband semi-recently. You also recognized that Sam, who you had met earlier, was the Falcon. Then came the question of who was Bucky. You knew there was a James Barnes associated with the Avengers but you'd never seen him and you knew he had a metal arm, something that you weren't sure was part of Bucky. You showered and cried again in the shower but this time out of relief. You realized that you didn't have to go home to that awful man and that you were finally safe.

The AI, you thought you'd heard Pepper call it FRIDAY, let you know that Bucky was in the building along with Sam. You dressed in the clothes that pepper had given to you, a pair of sweats and a loose T-shirt, and left your room. You carefully padded down the hallway, prepared to ask FRIDAY where you were if you got lost. Instead you saw Bucky down a hallway carrying a bag that you recognized as your own. Now that you were a bit calmed down you knew what you had to do. You got closer to each other, Bucky smiling slightly, and he stopped so that he wouldn't get close to you if you didn't want him to. Instead you continued walking toward him until you got close enough that you could wrap your arms tightly around his waist. He stood in shock before dropping the bag and wrapping one of his arms around you tightly. You reached out to the other one and felt the hardness of it. You guessed then that he must be the winter soldier that you'd heard about but you continued to wrap it around yourself so that he was hugging you all the way. You took a deep breath and smiled slightly.

"Thank you, James." You murmured and you heard his heart pick up its pace. He tightened his arms around you and sighed.

"You’re welcome, doll" he accepted the thanks with a bit of apprehension but this wasn't the time to argue about whether or not thanks were needed. "I promise I'm not going to let anything happen to you again." He stated quietly and he was reassuring himself more than you. Your arms tightened around him more and he decided that he would protect you with all he had if you would let him.

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