#(? Whatever the next one after rebels is)

[humanmorph]

i didn't know MAUL was there my friend MAUL?

[mononijikayu]

i wanna be yours — ryomen sukuna.

He paused, the words catching in his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I cannot let you go.” You felt your resolve waver under the weight of his admission, the intensity of his gaze consuming you. “Then what do you want from me, my lord?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. “Everything, little one.” he said simply. “Your body, your thoughts, your heart. I will have it all, and I will never share it with another. I want it to be mine.” Your lips trembled as your eyes bore his own. “You already know that I am yours, my lord.”

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, smut, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, parenthood, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, forced memory loss, coercion, explicit miscarriage, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of forced memory loss, depiction of coercion, depiction of explicit miscarriage, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 19k words

NOTE: i thought about how concubine reader and sukuna have this really interesting relationship. a really interesting and painful relationship. and a lot of imbalances exist, with how sukuna has the most power. and he uses it to corrupt her. sukuna, no matter how much he loves concubine reader or make her happy, he will continue to hurt her and cause her grief. and next chapter, we will explore her response to it all, and how she rebels. and how sukuna concedes. in any case, thank you for reading!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @after-laughter-come-tears, @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio;

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the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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MANY YEARS OF MARRIAGE AND HE STILL HAS NOT FIGURED IT OUT. Ryomen Sukuna didn’t know how to put into words what churned within him when it came to you, his concubine.

You were his endless enigma wrapped in the finest of silks he could procure for you. You were a constant contradiction that pricked at the edges of his ego and lingered in the dark corners of his thoughts. 

He despised puzzles left unsolved, he hated things left undone. Yet you had become the one conundrum he could never crack. And for a long while, he had thought he would be content with that. But as the years went on, he felt maddened by it all. He didn’t know you well, not in the way he hoped. And that bothers him.

Do not get him wrong, he knew you. He knew you well enough that he had kept you around, that you were the only one that he’d ever let close, one that was never a servant. He knew every subtle glance, the cadence of your voice, the way your hands moved with grace even in the most mundane tasks.

He had memorized you like the pages of an ancient, weathered tome, and yet, for all the knowledge he’d gathered, there was something about you that evaded him. Something beyond the surface, just out of reach. It gnawed at him.

Was it fascination? Resentment? Or something far more dangerous—something he refused to name? He had thought, surely, the years would erode whatever this was. Time, after all, was the great equalizer, the eventual destroyer of all attachments. But you had not faded from his mind, nor had the mystery of you unraveled with the passage of time.

The more he let his thoughts drift to you, the more he realized it wasn’t just you he was trying to solve. It was what you made him feel, what it all meant. Was it a weakness? Power? The echo of something human he thought he had long buried? It infuriated him, how you lingered in his chest, a riddle left unanswered.

Even in the quiet hours, when no one else was watching, when his guard was down, he could never bring himself to face the truth. To admit that perhaps you were the one thing in his existence he couldn’t conquer, couldn’t master. And worse still, he wasn’t sure if he even wanted to.

Ryomen Sukuna sat upon his throne, the flickering light of the torches casting long shadows across the stone walls. His scarlet eyes, sharp and unyielding, rested on you as you poured his drink with practiced grace.

The delicate clink of the vessel against the rim of his cup seems louder than it should have, reverberating in the silence. You didn’t look at him directly—never did—but he could sense the weight of your presence, a quiet power wrapped in submission.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, little one.” he said, his voice a low rumble, laced with something unreadable. “A rarity.”

Your hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “Am I to speak freely, my lord?” you asked softly, eyes fixed on the task before you.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “You always choose your words carefully, don’t you? Go on, then. Speak.”

You straightened, meeting his gaze for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The torchlight painted you in warm hues, highlighting the determined tilt of your chin. “I only remain quiet because I sense you prefer it that way. Am I mistaken?”

Sukuna leaned back, swirling the liquid in his cup. “You assume much, little one.”

“And yet, I am still here.” Your tone was calm, almost resigned, but it carried an edge he couldn’t ignore.

His smirk faded. There it was again. That inexplicable thing about you that unraveled his carefully constructed walls. You, with your unassuming words and quiet defiance, managed to disrupt him in ways he couldn’t name.

“Do you think you’ve won some favor with me with such a thing?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied you. “That your loyalty earns you a place above the others?”

“No.” Your answer was immediate, your gaze steady. “I know better than to believe I have power over you, my lord. But I do wonder—why keep me? If I am just another servant, just another fleeting presence in your endless existence, why let me linger?”

His jaw tightened. The audacity of your words would have earned anyone else a swift and brutal end, yet he let you speak. Why? Even he didn’t know.

“You have too many curiosities, little one.” He says, eyeing you. His red meeting your own orbs. “Ones that would be hard to satisfy a mortal like you.”

You smiled, laying your hand on your lap. “I have stayed, my lord. Do you not think I would have left long ago, had there been no satisfaction? Even with my curiosities.”

“You presume too much about that, little one.” he growled, though his tone lacked the usual venom. “You are here because I allow it. That is all you need to understand.”

“And yet……” you took a small step closer, a dangerous glint in your eyes. “You never send me away. Or let me go. When there are so many opportunities, don’t you think?”

Silence fell between you, thick with unspoken truths. Sukuna’s gaze narrowed, his sharp features betraying nothing of the chaos within. He wanted to scoff, to crush this insolence with a flick of his fingers, but the words stuck in his throat. 

You were right. He had kept you close, far closer than anyone else. And it wasn’t out of need or convenience—it was something deeper, something he didn’t dare acknowledge. It was something that he’d rather not touch upon. Not if he wants to dig a hole of possibilities he had no answers for.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, little one.” he warned, his voice a low growl.

“I only play the game you started, my lord.”

His scarlet eyes bored into yours, searching for something he couldn’t name. You stood your ground, unflinching, and for a moment, he thought he hated you for it. Hated how you made him feel… exposed. Mortal.

But instead of lashing out, he laughed. That same cold, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. You were too familiar with it by now. “You’re a fool if you think this ends in your favor.”

“And you, my lord, are a fool if you think you’ll ever solve me. In the way you wish.” you replied, voice steady and soft, like a whisper cutting through the storm. “Fate does not work in that way.”

A sly grin appears on his lips. “Perhaps that is the case, little one. But I am no fool.”

You raised a brow, intrigued. “Oh, then what are you, my lord?”

“A husband who is intrigued about his wife.” He whispers back to you.

For a moment, your eyes blinked at his words.

Soon enough, laughter permeates through your lips.

He was fond of the sound, truthfully enough.

“You lie as easily as you breathe.” You whisper back to him, a soft ghostly smile on your lips. “My lord, I thought you only said the truth.”

He would not say anything else more, he thinks.

Ryomen Sukuna watched as you downed a cup of sake.

It was better to not dig through the mess, not at all.

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YOU OPTED OUT OF THE SESSION IN THE AUDIENCE HALL TODAY. Sukuna had sent quite a word about it , but you knew he truly did not mind. You knew him too well, that words were more or less just what it would be.

He knew you needed a break, to breathe after such a hectic schedule with him. Not to mention that you took care of Chiharu and Chizuru at the same time all on your own, and managed Vermillion Hall by yourself. It was not easy. You needed the rest. And you were glad your husband knew that. 

The sun had already begun to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow across the Vermillion Hall. The soft hum of activity filled the air as the children were off in their lessons, their laughter and chatter drifting faintly through the hall’s open windows. The usually peaceful atmosphere was, for once, undisturbed, and yet, it felt different today. 

There was a presence in the hall that hadn't been there before—the presence of Ryomen Sukuna. But you hadn’t noticed yet. Not that he expected you to. He doesn’t visit often enough as of late to find him here. He was too dedicated to other pursuits. 

You were seated by the large window, a small wooden sewing table in front of you. The soft rustle of fabric and the rhythmic motion of your hands as you carefully worked on the intricate stitching of Sukuna's new haori made the room feel calm, despite the tension that always seemed to linger between you two. 

It wasn’t the first time you had sewn clothes for him and it wouldn’t be the last. You were the only one now left making his clothing for him. You knew what he had liked, so there was no one else who did that for him.

Everyone else’s hands were not to touch his clothing, unless to wash it. And now that his previous haori had been torn and tattered from battles, you found the need to make a new one for him.  

You were halfway through adding delicate embroidery when you heard the heavy footsteps. This is only when you heard that sound that you felt something was amiss. You didn’t look up immediately, your fingers still moving across the fabric, your mind focused on the delicate task in front of you.

You could feel his presence, though heavy and undeniable. Finally, after a moment of silence, you heard his voice, low and unhurried, as though he had no reason to be anything but calm.

"Still sewing clothes for me, are you, little one?" His voice carried a hint of amusement, though there was an undercurrent of something else in it, something almost like... curiosity?

You glanced up, meeting his gaze with a faint but questioning look. "It’s not like you’ll bother to do it yourself, my lord. You had taken the liberty of demoting all your sewing servants, other than me." you replied dryly, your eyes moving back to the thread as you continued to stitch. 

Sukuna snickers. “It is no fault of mine that they are inept at the task you do so well at. Though, I should think you would be resting more today, little one.”

"I had done all my tasks rather easily, my lord.” You tell him honestly, poking the needle through again. “And with such time, I figured it would be better for you to have something... new. I cannot keep mending that one you like so much forever."

Sukuna chuckled softly, his deep voice vibrating through the room. “You’re trying to make me more presentable, are you?” He stepped closer, his gaze following your hands as you worked. "It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Today’s audiences have been dealt with, little one."

The tone in his voice wasn’t mocking, though—it wasn’t quite the usual arrogance you’d expect from him. Instead, it was something more playful, more curious. Something that hinted at an understanding that wasn’t quite there before. Your husband, you find, has been playful when he wants to be. But that often is a rarity done in good faith.

"Maybe so, my lord." you said softly, your fingers never pausing in their work. "But I thought it might be nice for a change. For the next audience Tis better dealt with now then left for next."

His gaze softened slightly at that, though he remained silent for a long moment, watching you as you worked, the fabric between your fingers so delicate, your focus so intense. For the first time in a long while, it seemed like Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.

“You’ve been quiet, little one.” he remarked after a moment, his voice not quite as sharp as it usually was. "Too quiet. What’s on your mind?"

You paused briefly, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back at the haori in your lap. The question was unexpected, but not unwelcome. It felt like the first time in ages that he actually wanted to know. 

"Just thinking, my lord." you said, your voice low. "About everything, really. The way things have... changed."

His expression darkened a fraction, but the concern he tried to hide didn’t escape your notice. “Changed?” His gaze narrowed slightly as he stepped closer. “In what way?”

You took a breath, the words coming slower than you intended. "I think... I think I’ve spent so much time trying to keep everything together, trying to make sense of it. But sometimes, I don’t even know where I am anymore." 

You didn’t look up, but your voice carried a strange, vulnerable edge now—something raw that you hadn't meant to reveal. “I never asked for this. For you. For any of this. I think about that as I get older. And of course, I am content but I….”

Sukuna remained silent, and for once, you didn’t hear the usual sneer in his voice or the biting comment ready to spill from his lips. He was quiet, studying you with a strange intensity, as though searching for something he couldn’t quite understand.

"I know, little one." he said finally, his voice softer than usual, but still carrying that familiar weight. "It’s never been easy for you. I get that."

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly. There was no arrogance in his eyes now, no unreadable distance. Just something... real. "Do you?" you asked quietly, searching his expression. “Do you really? Because sometimes I feel like I’m just some… some afterthought to you. A thing you can’t quite get rid of, but can’t quite leave alone either.”

Sukuna blinked at your words, and though his face remained unreadable, there was a flicker of something—guilt, regret, maybe even something deeper passing through his scarlet eyes. He stepped closer, his usual intimidating presence now softened, as though in the presence of your vulnerability, he couldn’t bring himself to hold onto the same unyielding stance.

“I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, little one. Even gods are such creatures.” he said quietly, his voice lower now. “I don’t know how to make it right. But I’m not leaving. Nor shall I abandon or forsake you. You ought to know that by now, little one.”

You sighed, poking another hole onto the fabric. “You sent one of the concubines to the Cold Hall, my lord. To be abandoned till she dies.”

“For a fault of her own, harming another woman in the harem.” He shakes his head at you. “You have not done such a thing. I swear that it won't happen to you. Not in your whole life.”

“How is my lord so certain to promise—” You pricked your finger, causing you to groan. You quickly move the fabric away, to avoid the blood pouring onto the fabric. 

Sukuna sighs and crouches over to you, taking your hand onto his own big one. He takes the bleeding finger close to his lips and lets the taste of your metallic blood echo onto his tongue. Your blood has always been so sweet to Sukuna, so smooth and tender. It was honest blood. Blood which has never done any wrong against anyone or anything. 

Not even him, who has made you ever so miserable. You frowned at his act. But sooner or later, the blood isn’t pouring anymore. You take your hand off his own, muttering a small thank you as you continue to work on the haori, much more careful this time.

“You raised my child, you bore me a son. And you are close by my side at all times, doing as you are told. You won’t suffer such fate and this is proof.”

“But what if I…..”

He sighed, letting his hand rest upon your head. “You will not. For all your life, you will live well. Do not over think, little one. It shall cost more of your beauty.”

You could feel your cheeks flustered with warm scarlet. You cannot look at him, or he’ll see the extent of your reddened face.  “M–my lord, if I am pricked once more—”

His gaze softened as he stood next to you, watching the way your hands moved over the fabric with quiet concentration. “Shall I make a binding vow to you, little one? I swear to you, you would not suffer in such a way.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being honest or if this was just another of his strange ways of trying to explain himself. Sukuna was never one for soft words, never one to lay himself bare.

But there was something in the way he stood there, looking at you, something that told you he wasn’t just trying to placate you. He meant it—at least, in his own way.

You sighed, putting the needle down for a moment. “I don’t know what you want from me, my lord.” you muttered, your voice almost lost in the quiet of the room. “I don’t know what I want either.”

Sukuna didn’t answer immediately, instead watching you with a quiet intensity. His gaze softened, and after a long moment, he placed a hand on the edge of the table, his fingers just brushing the fabric of the haori.

“I can’t give you the answers you want, not in a way that would make you happy. Not in ways that would make it easier.” he said finally, his voice almost regretful. “But we will not part. I shall stand by you as you stand with me, little one. If that means anything to you.”

The words hung in the air between you two, and for a long time, neither of you spoke. The tension that had always existed between you both seemed to lessen, if only for a moment. Perhaps there was no grand gesture of reconciliation, no magic words that could undo the past. But for now, this quiet understanding was enough.

Sukuna finally took a step back, his usual air of control slowly creeping back. But the softness in his gaze remained. “Finish the haori, little one.” he said, his voice commanding, though not unkind. "I’ll wear it soon enough."

You nodded silently, and as he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but wonder, just for a fleeting moment, whether things between the two of you might one day be different.

Whether Sukuna would ever truly change. Whether he could be more than who you know he already is. You purse your lips into a flat line, trying to focus on your stitches once more.

You would think about him for the whole night, you think to yourself.

You could not get him out of your mind for one second, even in bed.

But one thing’s for certain to you — your husband lies as much as he breathes.

Even if you love him, he will not love you in the way you want him to.

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HE HAD SUMMONED YOU TO JOIN HIM FOR A DRINK. But it was quite obvious to you when you arrived that your husband was already far too deep into his drink already. You sighed, noticing a blue liquor.

Ah, the one Uraume prepares for him. This was the only alcohol that could get your husband drunk. He was immune to anything else. But this lets him feel human in his godly state. It makes him feel relieved. To be drunk on something even once in a while.

Sukuna's gaze lingered on you for a moment as you bowed. Everything about his expression was unreadable, yet there was something in his dark scarlet eyes. Something dangerous and raw. He raises his hand, letting you be at ease. You start to approach him with swift grace.

He hated how his thoughts betrayed him, wandering to places he had sworn to bury. Foolish. That’s what it was. Foolish and beneath him to feel this… guilt, this yearning that clawed at him like a curse more potent than any he could wield.

He had been alive far too long, seen far too much. He should have been immune to such petty human feelings by now. Desires, cravings…they were remnants of a man he had left behind when he ascended to godhood. 

And yet, when he thought of you, when his mind wandered to the softness of your body pressed against his, the warmth of that night you lay tangled together, he could feel something crack beneath his skin.

He thought he’d outgrown it, thought he’d buried whatever mortal part of him still dared to want. But it hadn’t stopped. It had only shifted, mutating into something darker, deeper.

His body betrayed him, aching with a hunger he despised. The memory of your touch, the way your smaller frame molded against his, haunted him in ways nothing else ever had.

You were a puzzle, you perhaps always will be to him. And that he could admit, was his  fleeting moment of weakness. He wanted more of you, a complete picture and now he couldn’t seem to erase that desire. He cannot quell his desires and he hates it. He despises himself over it. 

He remembered every detail of that night. The way your breaths hitched when his hands roamed over you, the softness of your skin beneath his calloused fingers. How you’d fit against him, fragile yet unyielding.

Somehow, you can tell that it was a stark contrast to his overwhelming presence. You were something too special, something he wants to taint and ruin, someone he wants to consume whole.

It was intoxicating, the memory of it. He remembers them without fail, even in a state like this. The way you surrendered without fear, how you looked at him as though he wasn’t a god or a monster, but just… a man. He hated that. Hated the vulnerability it pulled from him, the reminder that he was once human too.

Sukuna clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as if the pain could anchor him. He shouldn’t think of you this way, shouldn’t allow himself to feel this way.

But no matter how much he tried to suppress it, the truth clawed its way to the surface. He wanted you. Not just in the fleeting, carnal way he could dismiss. No, this was deeper.

And it infuriated him.

"Little one." he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. You turned to him, startled by the abruptness of his tone, but there was no mistaking the heat in his gaze.

“Yes, my lord?” you asked, your voice careful, cautious.

He rose from his throne, the sheer power of his presence making the air around you feel heavier. He took a step closer, towering over you, his dark eyes darkened by something primal. His hand reached out, rough fingers brushing against your cheek before he seemed to catch himself. He let it fall back to his side, jaw tightening.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, like the rumble of distant thunder.

You blinked, stunned by the admission. “My lord, I—”

"Silence, little one." he growled, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t speak unless I tell you to."

The command was sharp, but his hand trembled slightly before he curled it into a fist. He hated himself in that moment, hated how much power you had over him without even trying.

You were like a little doe, the way you looked at him. Almost so demure and helpless. And yet, you had the most power over him, now that Hiromi was dead. And he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to admit that truth.

“I thought it had ended, little one.” he continued, more to himself than to you. “This… weakness. This need for something so fleeting. Yet here I am, craving you like a man, not a god. How pathetic.”

Your lips parted, but you said nothing, sensing that this moment was not yours to interrupt. Sukuna’s gaze dropped to the floor for a fraction of a second before returning to yours, molten gold locking with your wide eyes.

“Tell me, little one.” he commanded, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “Do you feel it too? Or am I the only one foolish enough to burn for something I can never truly have?”

The question hung heavy in the air, a challenge and a confession all at once. Your breath hitched as his words settled in, the weight of them pressing against you like his looming presence. Sukuna had never been one to lay himself bare, yet here he stood, his gaze cutting through you with the intensity of a man teetering on the edge of restraint.

You swallowed hard, unsure if it was bravery or recklessness that made you speak. “My lord, I…..” you began carefully, voice trembling but steady. You swallow the bile down your throat. “It would be a lie to say I haven’t thought of that night. To say I haven’t felt… something for you.”

His eyes darkened, the faintest flicker of something. Was it satisfaction, perhaps? Was it a desire which was crossing his face? He stepped closer, the space between you almost nonexistent. You could feel the heat radiating from him, his presence overwhelming.

“You have, then?” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. “You’ve thought of me… of us?”

“Yes, my lord….” you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest. “But I—”

“But what?” he interrupted, his tone sharp, his hand reaching up to grip your chin gently, forcing you to look at him. “You think I don’t see it in your eyes? The way you tremble when I’m near, yet you never pull away. You deny me nothing, yet you still hesitate to admit what you want.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself against the storm that was Sukuna. “I hesitate, my lord.” you said softly, your lips quivering. “Because I don’t know if what you want from me is real, or if I’m just another fleeting indulgence for you. A distraction.”

His grip tightened ever so slightly, his jaw clenching as if your words had struck a nerve. “Do you think I am a god who indulges in meaningless distractions?” he asked, his voice dangerously quiet. “Do you think I would allow myself to feel this, to want—if it were something I could so easily discard, little one? Do you think of me that way?”

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze once more. There was something raw in his expression, something vulnerable that he tried to mask with his usual arrogance. It was startling, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I don’t know what you feel, my lord.” you whispered, your voice trembling now. “You are a god, my god. A force beyond comprehension. How could I ever understand what I mean to you, knowing how far away you are?”

Sukuna let out a low, bitter laugh, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “You think too much, little one.” he said, his tone softer now, though his scarlet eyes remained intense. “I’ve spent centuries trying to rid myself of weakness, yet here you are, the one thing I cannot escape. You plague me, little one, and I despise it as much as I crave it.”

The confession sent a jolt through you, and before you could stop yourself, your hand reached up, lightly resting on his wrist. The contact seemed to startle him, his eyes narrowing as if to assess your boldness. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“You are mine, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “Whether you believe it or not, whether you understand it or not….you belong to me. And I—” He paused, the words catching in his throat as if they were foreign to him. “I cannot let you go.”

You felt your resolve waver under the weight of his admission, the intensity of his gaze consuming you. “Then what do you want from me, my lord?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curled into a dangerous smirk, though his eyes betrayed a deeper emotion. “Everything, little one.” he said simply. “Your body, your thoughts, your heart. I will have it all, and I will never share it with another. I want it to be mine.”

Your lips trembled as your eyes bore his own. “You already know that I am yours, my lord.”

The declaration was both a promise and a warning, and as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, you realized there was no escaping him. Not now. Not ever. He had killed and he had harmed. You do not take his threat lightly. You do not take his confession lightly.

Sukuna’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his grip firm and unyielding as he pulled you closer. His touch burned like fire, his fingers tangling in your hair as he forced you to look up at him. There was no hesitation in his movements, no softness in his gaze. The air between you was charged, thick with the weight of emotions neither of you dared to name.

“You drive me to madness, little one.” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you even understand what you’ve done to me?”

Before you could answer, his lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs. It wasn’t gentle. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t gentle. It was raw, primal, and overwhelming.

It was as if he was trying to claim you with every ounce of his being. His free arm snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against his powerful frame, your smaller body dwarfed by his overwhelming presence.

You gasped against his mouth, the sheer intensity of him leaving you breathless. His kiss was fierce, filled with pent-up desire and frustration, a battle for dominance you knew you couldn’t win. His sharp teeth grazed your bottom lip, a warning and a tease all at once.

Your hands instinctively gripped his robes, desperate for something to anchor you as the world seemed to tilt. You felt his chest rumble against yours, a deep growl escaping him as if your touch only fueled his hunger.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just above yours, his breath hot and ragged. His scarlet eyes bore into yours, wild and unrestrained. “You are mine, little one.” he rasped, his voice rough with emotion. “Do you understand? No one else. Ever.”

You swallowed hard, your own breathing uneven as you tried to process the intensity of what had just happened. “I…”

Words failed you, your thoughts scrambled, but the look in his eyes demanded an answer. He wants what he wants, your husband. He was never coy with it. And that intimidated you. That burned you. And that made your heart beat, over and over.

“Yes, my lord.” you whispered finally, your voice trembling but resolute. “I’m yours. Always.”

A dangerous smile curved his lips, and his hold on you tightened. “Good.” he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. “Because I won’t let you go. Not now. Not ever.”

His lips descended on yours again, and this time, you didn’t resist. Instead, you gave yourself to him, surrendering to the storm that was Sukuna, knowing that there was no turning back

Sukuna didn’t stop. He couldn’t—no, he wouldn’t. The intensity of his desire had festered too long, clawing at him in the quiet moments, haunting him in the shadows. Now, with you in his grasp, his need consumed him entirely, and he refused to let anything hold him back.

His lips moved against yours with bruising force, his kiss deep and possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist as if to anchor you to him.

The other sliding up to cradle the back of your head. He tilted your face to deepen the kiss, his sharp teeth grazing your lips again, a feral growl rumbling in his chest.

You felt overwhelmed, every inch of your skin alight with his touch. His energy was raw and almost suffocating. Everything about it surged through you, leaving no part of you unaffected.

Despite his roughness, there was something deliberate in his actions, as if he were memorizing every curve, every shiver, every gasp you gave him. He broke the kiss just enough to look at you, his scarlet eyes darkened with unbridled hunger. His chest heaved as he fought to rein in the storm raging within him.

“You’re trembling, little one.” he muttered, his voice rough yet tinged with something almost tender. “Are you afraid?”

You hesitated, your lips swollen and breath shaky. “No, my lord.” you answered softly, your voice wavering. “Not afraid.”

His eyes narrowed, as if testing the truth of your words. “Then why do you shake?” he demanded, his thumb brushing along your jawline, a rare gentleness in the gesture that only made his intensity more suffocating. “Is it because of me? Because of what I make you feel?”

You nodded, unable to deny him even if you wanted to. “Yes, my lord.” you whispered, the confession slipping from your lips before you could think twice.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous, but there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. It was pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief. His cheeks were red, flushed in the echoes of the drink.

“Good, little one.” he said, his voice a low rumble. “You should feel it. All of it. Because I intend to show you just how deeply I’ve burned for you.”

Before you could respond, Sukuna scooped you up effortlessly, cradling you against his chest as though you weighed nothing. His hold on you was possessive, tightly locking you.

Every bit of his movements deliberate as he carried you toward the large bed at the far side of the chamber. The world seemed to blur around you, the air crackling with his power and your own anticipation.

He placed you down gently. It was an unexpected contrast to his earlier roughness but the way his hands lingered on your body betrayed the restraint he was barely holding onto. He loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole, his predatory gaze drinking in the sight of you beneath him.

“You don’t understand what you do to me, little one.” he said, his voice low and almost vulnerable, a confession meant only for you. “But tonight, you will. Tonight, you’ll feel it—the depth of my hunger, my desire. All of it.”

You shivered at his words, your heart racing as his hands found you again, pulling you closer to the god who had claimed you as his own. You wrapped your arms around him and let him do what he willed with you.

This is how you worshiped him, your god. You let him ruin you, you let him take it all away from you. No matter what, you’ll worship him. Even if it hurts you in the end.

══════════════════

IT WAS BITTER TO FEEL THIS IN THE MORNING. Ryomen Sukuna’s shoulders slumped as he sat on the edge of the bed, his hand cradling his forehead as though it could ease the storm brewing within him.

The room was dimly lit, the morning sun barely filtering through the heavy curtains, casting long shadows that seemed to mirror his turmoil. He glanced back at you, your form barely stirring under the silk sheets, a picture of innocence amidst the chaos he had wrought.

The guilt clawed at him like a relentless beast, tearing into the very essence of him. He had told himself countless times before that he was beyond redemption, that the sins of his godhood were unerasable.

Yet, every time he saw you lying beside him, your face softened by the vulnerability of sleep, the weight of his choices bore down on him tenfold. How innocent you looked. Almost like the most ethereal creature born to man.

And he's hurting you. He's hurt you. And he knew, it would break you. He'd done it before. He knew that. Sukuna's hands traced against his tightening jaw. How could he have done this to you?

He thought of Hiromi again, the one constant ghost that haunted him. Her face was as vivid in his mind as it had been centuries ago. The way she had looked at him with a love that had defied his monstrous nature was a memory he could never shake.

He had betrayed her over and over again, and yet her phantom presence lingered, a painful reminder of what he had lost and what he continued to desecrate.

She deserved better. And now, so do you.

His jaw clenched, his hands curling into fists. No matter how much he wanted to justify his actions, he couldn’t escape the truth: he was selfish. He was a god who took what he wanted, who carved his desires into the world without regard for the aftermath.

But with you, it felt different. He wasn’t just stealing your body; he was robbing you of your peace, your freedom. You were becoming a reflection of the torment that plagued him, and he hated himself for it.

Uraume’s earlier hesitation gnawed at him, too. They had served him faithfully for centuries, never questioning his orders. But the way their eyes lingered on you this morning, filled with something bordering on pity, unsettled him. Even they, loyal to a fault, could see the weight of his selfishness pressing down on you.

As the door closed softly behind Uraume, Sukuna let out a low, frustrated groan. His hand reached out once more, hovering just above your sleeping form, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch you. The memory of your soft breaths against his skin, the warmth of your body entwined with his, lingered, mocking him. He craved it, and yet he despised himself for it.

This is for the best, he repeated to himself, though the mantra felt like ash in his mouth. You’ll be free. You’ll forget me, forget this moment and this pain will fade.

But as he stared at you, your peaceful expression threatening to break the last vestiges of his resolve, doubt crept in. Could he truly let you go, even if it meant erasing everything you shared? Was it really for you—or was it just another way to escape his guilt, to absolve himself of the burden of your misery?

Sukuna clenched his teeth, the internal battle raging louder than ever. His fingers twitched as he fought the urge to wake you, to hear your voice, to feel your touch just one more time.

He knew it was selfish, but the thought of you looking at him with those same accusing eyes, those eyes that didn’t understand why he had to do this—that was unbearable.

The door creaked open, and Uraume entered silently, a small vial in their hands. They approached cautiously, bowing low as they held it out to him. Sukuna took it without a word, his fingers tightening around the glass. The liquid inside glimmered faintly, deceptively harmless, yet it carried the power to wipe away everything.

Uraume glanced at you again, their expression unreadable, before speaking softly. “Are you certain, my lord?”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes flicked to them, sharp and unyielding, though his voice betrayed a hint of hesitation. “Do not question me, Uraume.”

They bowed deeply once more, retreating without another word. The door clicked shut, leaving Sukuna alone with you again. He turned the vial over in his hands, the faint clink of the liquid inside echoing in the silent chamber. His gaze drifted back to you, his expression torn, raw in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in centuries.

“I am a fool.” he muttered under his breath, his voice bitter. “A selfish, wretched fool.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, the vial dangling loosely between his fingers. The weight of the decision crushed him, every fiber of his being warring against itself. To let you forget would be to set you free, but it would also mean losing the only thing that had made him feel alive in eons. 

To let you remember would be to keep you bound to him, drowning alongside him in his endless torment. Ryomen Sukuna closed his eyes, exhaling shakily. He didn’t know what he hated more—the thought of losing you or the thought of keeping you. 

He was willing to take the risk of it all, if he was being honest.

He would rather let a lie continue, memories fade away forever;

He would rather do all the nasty things in this world, than lose you.

Everything else was better than finding you drowning with him like this.

══════════════════

THE MOMENT YOU WOKE UP, YOU REMEMBERED NOTHING. The memory of that night was elusive, like a fleeting shadow slipping between the cracks of your mind. You tried to recall it all from last night. Why did you end up taking your slumber in Heaven’s Hall instead of Vermillion Hall? Why had you fallen so sore and exhausted? What happened last night? 

You had pushed yourself to remember each and every time. But with all those attempts to do so left you with nothing but vague impressions. Perhaps you had been too tired to think clearly. Perhaps it wasn’t worth remembering. You had probably gotten so drunk and blacked out. Oh no, had you caused a scene? You were horrified about it all. 

You had hoped that it was going to come back to you once you have rested, once you had groomed yourself out of the mess of alcohol’s scent. Still, something about it lingered, a faint unease that you couldn’t quite place. You couldn’t piece it together and that makes you mad at yourself. How could you let this happen? How could you not remember anything?

Still, life moves forward. Your days carried on with a semblance of normalcy. The servants bustled about, tending to their endless duties, their chatter filling the quiet corners of the palace. You found comfort in routine, spending your hours with Chiharu and Chizuru, who had become your closest companions. 

Chiharu’s bright laughter and Chizuru’s sharp sense of humor made the days easier, their presence grounding you in a way Sukuna never had. In some ways, your joy comes from being their mother more than being Sukuna’s wife. Perhaps you had noticed that more and more now that your husband was too busy ignoring you again.

Yet, despite your efforts to immerse yourself in the calm, Ryomen Sukuna’s absence hung over you like a shadow. He had always been a looming presence in your life—commanding, unpredictable, impossible to ignore. But now, it was as if he had disappeared entirely. He no longer sought you out, no longer invaded your space with his suffocating intensity.

At first, you were relieved. His distance gave you a peace you hadn’t known in years. You could breathe without the weight of his gaze, could think without the distraction of his proximity. You liked the quiet. You needed it.

But as the days turned into weeks, you began to notice the emptiness his absence left behind. It wasn’t longing, not in the way you might have expected. It was something else; a nagging curiosity, an itch in the back of your mind that refused to be ignored.

Why had he stopped?

You replayed your last interactions with him over and over, searching for clues. Had you said something to offend him? Have you done something wrong? Or was this simply another one of his whims, a fleeting disinterest that would fade as quickly as it had come?

One afternoon, as you sat in the garden with Chiharu and Chizuru, the questions weighed heavier than usual. The soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of insects filled the air, a perfect backdrop for the idle conversation that flowed between your companions.

“The plum blossoms are so beautiful this year, mother.” Chiharu said, her voice bright with excitement. She leaned forward, her fingers brushing the delicate petals of a nearby branch. “Don’t you think so?”

“They’re the same every year, nee–sama.” Chizuru replied, rolling his eyes with a teasing smile. “You act as if it’s your first time seeing them.”

Chiharu pouted at her younger brother. “Well, maybe you’re just too jaded to appreciate them anymore, little brother!”

“Nee-sama, take that back!

“No, I won’t!”

Their banter usually brought a smile to your face, but today, their words barely registered. Your gaze drifted to the distant silhouette of Heaven’s Hall, its grandeur standing in stark contrast to the serenity of the garden. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it held answers to the questions swirling in your mind.

“Are you all right, mother?” Chiharu’s voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to her concerned expression. “You seem… distracted.”

You forced a smile. “I’m fine. Just tired, I suppose.”

Chizuru narrowed his eyes, his sharp gaze cutting through your facade. He looked almost like his father at that moment.  “Tired, or thinking about something you don’t want to say, mother?”

You shook your head, brushing off her words with a light laugh. “Nothing worth mentioning, my little love. Really.”

But as the conversation resumed, your thoughts wandered once more. Later, as you walked back to your quarters alone, your steps slowed as you neared Heaven’s Hall. The towering structure loomed ahead, its marble pillars catching the fading light of the setting sun.

You stopped, your gaze lingering on the grand doors. Something about it unsettled you, yet it also pulled at you, as if it held the answers you sought. You could almost hear the faint echo of footsteps, the ghost of something forgotten stirring in the corners of your mind.

Your hand twitched at your side, a part of you tempted to step inside, to confront whatever it was that refused to let you go. But you hesitated, the weight of uncertainty holding you back.

With a shake of your head, you turned away, forcing your feet to carry you toward Vermillion Hall. It was better not to know, you told yourself. Sukuna’s silence was a gift, a reprieve from his consuming presence. You weren’t foolish enough to disrupt it.

And yet, as the days stretched on, the questions only grew louder, pressing against your thoughts with an intensity you couldn’t ignore. What had happened that night? Why had everything changed so suddenly?

Most of all, why did it feel like Sukuna’s absence was not just a relief, but a mystery begging to be unraveled?

The day had passed uneventfully, filled with the usual duties at the main temple. You had grown accustomed to these quiet, almost meditative tasks: managing the offerings, overseeing the attendants, ensuring everything ran smoothly.

It was a peaceful life, one that was slowly allowing you to forget the intensity of the emotions that once surrounded Sukuna.

But today, the quiet seemed more oppressive than comforting, the silence pressing in around you like a weight. The questions still clung to the back of your mind, refusing to be silenced.

After completing your tasks, you found yourself seeking out Uraume. They were a quiet figure, always observing, always present but rarely speaking. Perhaps they could provide some insight into the strange distance Sukuna had placed between you.

They had been in his service long enough to know when something was amiss, and their loyalty to him was unwavering. Surely, if anyone knew what had happened, it would be Uraume.

You found them in a quiet hallway, their eyes momentarily lifting from the scroll they were reading as they noticed you approaching. Their expression remained neutral, but there was an unreadable glint in their eyes.

“Uraume.” you started, keeping your voice even. “I wanted to ask you about something. Something… personal.”

Uraume tilted their head slightly, studying you. They were always cautious around you, as though they knew that even the slightest change in your tone could signal a question they didn’t want to answer.

"What is it you wish to know, my lady?" they asked carefully, their voice soft but calculated.

You hesitated, unsure how to approach the subject without making it too obvious. But there was no time for half-measures now. You needed to know.

“That night… in Heaven’s Hall. I don’t remember much. But I know something happened. Between me and my lord. I need to understand. I need help to remember. So, if you would….please help me regain—”

Uraume's gaze shifted, their eyes briefly flicking away. For a moment, you wondered if they would say anything at all. But then they met your gaze again, a small frown tugging at the corners of their mouth. 

"My lord’s affairs are not for me to discuss with others, my lady." they replied, their tone so measured it almost felt rehearsed. "I do not know what you speak of."

The response stung, more than you expected. It wasn’t just the refusal to answer; it was the certainty in their voice, the unyielding loyalty that seemed to close off any hope of learning the truth. You swallowed the frustration rising in your chest, trying to push it back, but it simmered nonetheless.

"Uraume, I—" you began, but they had already turned their gaze away, as though the conversation was over. 

They bowed slightly, the gesture polite but distant. "If that is all, my lady, I have matters to attend to."

Your chest tightened as they made to leave, and for a moment, you considered pressing further. But something told you it would be futile. Uraume was loyal to Sukuna above all else, and their silence wasn’t accidental—it was a guard, a wall you couldn’t break. You cannot expect someone like them to choose you over their master.

Feeling the weight of your unanswered questions settle heavier on you, you turned and walked away, your thoughts swirling with a mix of irritation and confusion. The frustration you’d been pushing down surged to the surface, bubbling up in a sharp, bitter wave.

As you rounded a corner, you caught a glimpse of something that made your heart skip a beat.

From a distance, near the large pillars that lined the edge of the courtyard, you saw him. 

Ryomen Sukuna, with his dark eyes boring into your figure.

Your lord husband was watching you, with such focus.

His gaze was steady, his scarlet eyes locked onto you with an intensity that was unmistakable. There was no mistaking the weight of it, even from a distance. The way his eyes pinned you in place, as if he could see through every thought, every feeling you were trying to hide.

You stopped in your tracks. For a split second, it felt as if time slowed, the space between you and him stretching. Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively felt the pull of his gaze, the silent command it carried. It was as if he were drawing you in, pulling you closer without saying a word.

But you couldn’t stay. You couldn’t approach him—not when everything felt so… unfinished, so raw. The frustration from your encounter with Uraume flared inside you, and the last thing you wanted was to face Sukuna with that vulnerability hanging over you. Not when he seemed to be watching you with that same detached, unreadable expression.

You didn’t wait a second longer. You turned quickly, your steps brisk as you made your way down the hall, away from his gaze, away from whatever strange pull he had over you. Your heart raced, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to leave before you did something foolish.

But even as you hurried down the hall, you couldn’t escape the feeling that Sukuna’s eyes never left your back.

══════════════════

RYOMEN SUKUNA CAN’T HELP IT. The smell of you that remained on this silk handkerchief was powerful. He can’t stop. Not right now. Not at this moment. The silken fabric glides over Sukuna’s fingertips, its delicate touch igniting a shiver that travels through him, a contrast to the hard lines of his frame. 

The room feels smaller, darker, as he leans into the sensation, pressing the silk to his face and inhaling slowly. The scent is intoxicating, carrying the essence of you. Something warm, elusive, and utterly tormenting. His dark scarlet eyes flutter shut as a sigh parts his lips, betraying the barrier he usually holds so tightly.

Every breath feels heavier, resonating with the silent thrum beneath his skin, a rhythm that’s more than just desire. Everything about it was a pull that shakes his control. He drags the fabric down the line of his jaw, its whisper against his skin making his pulse quicken. 

He could feel the closeness and yet distance of you driving him deeper into the edge of yearning. His own touch is rougher now, less restrained as he presses the silk to the hollow of his throat, feeling the heat rise within him, warmth spreading like a slow burn.

A groan escapes, low and gravelly, as if torn from the depths of him, echoing in the silence. The sensation of his hands moving, the silk brushing over his chest and further, turns into a private ritual of surrender.

Each sweep of the fabric sparks against nerves like embers. The ghostly presence of you envelops him, the way you would breathe against his skin, the way your fingertips would linger with a feather-light tease.

The complexity of it all is the very reason he won’t dare cross the distance between you, why this is the only way he allows himself to know the softness you carry. It’s both bliss and torment, this delicate line he walks, trembling under the weight of the scent and the way it melds into the heat of his own breath. 

His movements become slower, more deliberate, savoring every moment until there’s nothing left but the ragged edge of satisfaction mixed with the stark silence of solitude. His mind swirls with the thought of you, laid out beneath him, your skin flushed and breath coming in soft, shuddering gasps. 

"My lord….my Sukuna." you would whisper, voice low and dripping with need, eyes wide and filled with trust and anticipation. The sound of your voice in his imagination alone makes him clench his jaw, his breath catching as heat unfurls within him.

“Say it again, little one.” he imagines himself growling, his tone both a command and a plea. His hand moves, firm and deliberate, stroking along his length as he pictures the way you’d obey, the way you’d bite your lip before moaning his name once more, the sound of it desperate and broken.

“Please, my lord.” your voice echoes in his head, needy and soft. 

The thought drives him to the brink, his body responding to the phantom sound as if you were really there. The groan that slips from his lips is deep, guttural, filling the dark room. His hips bucked against his own touch, chasing the sensation, needing it, needing you.

"Look at me. Keep your eyes on me. Only me." he imagines saying, the rasp in his voice trembling at the edge of restraint. 

He pictures your eyes locking onto his, the way they’d cloud over as he takes you apart piece by piece. His pace quickens, hand swirling tighter as he lets himself fall further into the fantasy, into the imagined warmth of your skin against his, the velvet feel of your touch.

“My lord—oh, Sukuna!” you’d moan, this time louder, the way he likes. His muscles tense as he shudders, everything building to that blinding point of no return. 

The room falls silent but for the sound of his own gasps, as the pleasure crashes over him, leaving only the thrum of his heartbeat and the haunting ache of wanting more than this moment, more than just shadows and longing.

Sukuna’s breath comes in short, ragged bursts as his hips move faster, instinct guiding his hand as he chases the release that teeters just out of reach. The image of you beneath him, eyes glassy and lips swollen, clings to his mind with fierce clarity. 

He can almost feel the way your body would shudder, the way you'd gasp and cling to him, the sensation of being deep within you as you take him, body trembling and surrendering completely. The tension in him coils tighter, the thought of you so full of him that he can see it in the way your body arches, pressing against him, drawing him deeper. 

“Take it all, little one. Take all of me. Please. Please—oh…..” he imagines growling, the dark intensity of the command vibrating through the silence.

His hand moves with desperation, the slick glide mimicking the fantasy in his mind, where every breath from you is a soft plea and every moan is edged with that delicious note of submission that drives him wild.

The imagined feel of your warmth, of your walls tightening around him, pushes him over the edge. His body tenses, muscles rigid as the wave crashes through him, a guttural groan spilling from his lips, raw and deep.

Pleasure surges, blinding and consuming, leaving him breathless and sprawled in the silence that follows, the echoes of his need fading into the stillness of the room.

When the tremors subside, he opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving. The room feels emptier now, haunted by the echoes of your phantom touch and the aching reminder that you’re not here.

The need has been sated for now, but the longing, that ever-present hunger for you, remains unsatisfied, gnawing at him with a dark, insatiable hunger.

He looks down at the silk fabric, occupied by his fluids.

Sukuna felt his lips tighten at the sight of it, so full of him.

He ruined you, he keeps ruining you — and he would not stop.

Ryomen Sukuna stood up, and looks at the potion.

He could not take it, he could not take that guilt.

His hands takes it brashly towards his lips and drank.

Ryomen Sukuna wants to forget how he hurt you.

══════════════════

YOU MAKE HASTE TO GET READY. Sukuna’s summons arrives as a simple, imperious command, and yet it sends a thrill down your spine. You looked at Uraume and merely nodded. Your husband was that sort of man. He only wishes for you when he ends up at the end of his wits. But you cannot say much about it. You ought not to.

It’s been quite a few weeks gone and past since the two of you sat together without the press of others’ watchful eyes or the weight of duties. And because of that, things would be different between the two of you, well at least until that awkward distance disappears with some comfort with some time spent together.

When you enter the grand dining hall, he’s already seated, the firelight casting a warm glow over his sharp features, softening the edge of his usual scowl. His crimson eyes lift to meet yours, something unreadable flickering behind them before he gives a subtle nod.

“Sit, little one.” he says, and though the tone is clipped, there’s a trace of something gentler woven beneath. 

You take your place across from him, and a faint smile tugs at your lips as the first drink of sake is poured for you.  Another bountiful pour of special drink for him.

It had taken some time for tongues to become loose. The silence between you is not strained but filled with anticipation, as if the weeks apart have made every unspoken word hum with importance.

The conversation unfolds slowly, naturally. The tension in his shoulders loosens as he sips from his cup, scarlet eyes softening when you speak of your children. Everything about your children brought the two of you closer. That's how it was.

You both talked abotu everything. Their laughter, their small victories at Jujutsu, the way they remind you of him in ways both stubborn and tender. Chizuru had finally learned how to control his cursed energy. Chiharu had discovered a new technique of her own, defeating her mentor. 

Your husband listens, occasionally offering a rare chuckle or a subtle smirk, and you realize just how much you missed this: the shared warmth, the unguarded moments when he’s more than the king, more than the conqueror. He perhaps did not love you. But you wanted his comfort, his warmth. In some ways, you wanted to be his. 

Not in ownership, no. But to….to have been cared for in some way by him. Of course, it would not be close to his feelings for Ryomen Hiromi. You had long accepted that. Still, you wanted warmth from him.

You wanted to carve your way through his heart, and let yourself have a home in it. At least what was left. Yet, you would never say that out loud. It was not your place. It never has been.

“Do you remember when Chiharu first tried to use her powers?” you ask, laughter bubbling in your voice. Sukuna’s lips quirk up at the memory, a shadow of pride crossing his face.

“The girl was quite fearless, I admit.” he replies, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But she still needs some work.”

You smiled. “My lord, I am certain you can find that Chiharu is one to be proud of. The work has paid off.”

“Hm. I suppose it has.” He says to you, his eyes tender. “But I cannot take the credit.”

“Nor can I, my lord.” You whisper back to him, a small smile on your lips. “I am not her only parent.”

He shakes his head. “No, no. To her, little one? You are the only one that matters.”

Everything from then seems to shrink around the two of you, the space intimate and alive with a marriage lived in many years and many dimensions — such of which the world will never know or be privy to. No. This belongs only to the two of you. No one else.

As the evening deepens, the wine flows more freely, and the conversation shifts, softening at the edges. Sukuna leans forward, his eyes catching the flicker of firelight. Your husband was studying you with a gaze that pierces through the veil of time and distance.

You’re suddenly aware of how close you are, of how his fingers drum lightly on the table, mere inches from yours. He couldn't stop, looking at you. Yearning for warmth that only you could provide.

Without thinking, you close the gap. Your hand brushes his, and before you can second-guess, you lean forward and press your lips to his. The kiss is soft at first, hesitant, as if testing the waters of familiarity, but he responds almost immediately. 

His hand moves to cup the back of your neck, deepening the kiss with a hunger that’s been banked too long. The room falls away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in the heat and urgency of reconnection, mouths moving with the desperation of lovers long apart.

When you pull back, both breathless, his eyes search yours, softer now, vulnerable in a way that’s rare and precious.

“It’s been too long, little one.” he murmurs, voice rough but honest, and you nod, a smile curving your lips as you press your forehead to his, savoring the moment and the promise of more to come.

The silence stretches between you, but it’s charged, buzzing with an unspoken need. The kiss lingers in the air, the taste of him still warm on your lips. There is no more talking now, only the thrum of anticipation as Sukuna’s eyes, deep and darkened with desire, lock onto yours. 

His hand tightens at the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his mouth crashes against yours again, fiercer this time. The room is awash in the scarlet glow of the fire, shadows dancing as if to the rhythm of your heartbeats.

Your hands find their way to his chest, fingers splaying over the hard muscle beneath his robes as you feel his heart pound beneath your touch. He shifts, rising from his chair with a graceful power that makes your breath catch.

In one swift movement, he pulls you up, the table pushed aside as if it were an afterthought, and suddenly, you're against him, your body pressed against the solid heat of his form.

Sukuna’s lips trail down your jaw to the pulse at your neck, teeth grazing as his breath comes hot against your skin. You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, tugging him closer, wordlessly urging him on.

His hands roam, one sliding down your back, pressing your hips into his, while the other explores the curve of your waist, anchoring you as if afraid to let go.

Your senses blur; the feeling of his tongue tracing along the line of your collarbone sends shivers down your spine, and you arch into him, needing more. The sound of your breathless moans, mingled with the quiet growl he makes against your skin, fills the room. 

Sukuna lifts you easily, his strength effortless as he sets you on the edge of the table, stepping between your legs and pressing into you until there’s nothing but heat and the throb of shared longing.

Your eyes meet, and for a moment, the intensity softens. His thumb brushes your cheek, a surprising gentleness in the midst of the fervor, and then his lips are on yours again.

Over and over, he pushed forward with wanton desire. His lips wanted more. Tasting, claiming, as his hands slide lower, pulling you closer, drawing a shiver of pleasure that melts the last traces of restraint.

The world around you fades to nothing but the sensation of him, the rush of your bodies entwined in a dance that is both savage and intimate. Everything is raw, animalistic, as if the very air crackles with the weight of longing that has built up over the weeks apart. 

Ryomen Sukuna’s grip on you is commanding, pulling you closer, pressing you against him with a desperate need that makes you gasp, your body trembling in response.

The slick warmth of his skin against yours is intoxicating, a heady mixture of heat and urgency that makes it feel like there’s no time to waste. His lips are on you again, claiming you with a hunger that mirrors the way his body moves against yours.

Each thrust, each slow drag of his hips, drives deeper, the pressure building between you until it's unbearable. You can feel the pulse in his veins, the steady throb of him that echoes in your own body, matching the rhythm of your heart as it races wildly.

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes, but they’re not from pain, no. They’re from something deeper, something more overwhelming. The vulnerability of the moment, the overwhelming sensation of him taking you, claiming you fully, fills you with an emotion that crashes over you like a wave. 

Your breath hitches as you bite down on your lip, trying to hold back the rush of feelings threatening to break free. But Sukuna’s groan, low and almost animalistic, makes your resolve shatter, and you let go, surrendering completely to the pleasure, to the connection that binds you to him.

His body throbs with each movement, the pulse of his veins like a living thing inside you, the rhythm of it so steady and consuming that it feels as if you’re both part of the same beating heart. 

The force of it, the heat and pressure, makes you feel like you’re coming apart at the seams, but in the best way, as if every inch of you is being remade, redefined by his presence, by the way he fills you completely. There’s nothing but him now, no walls, no distance, just the two of you locked together in a way that feels timeless, primal.

You feel whole with him, in a way you’ve never felt before. The empty spaces that have haunted you, the ones you couldn’t even name; all of it seems to vanish in the intensity of the moment. How could it not, when he rules you in everything, body, heart and soul?

His body is a fierce warmth that wraps around you, grounding you, making you feel like you’ve always belonged to him, and he to you. It’s a feeling that is so deep, so consuming, that it transcends the physical, filling you with a sense of completeness that makes the rest of the world irrelevant.

The sound of his breath, deep and erratic, mingles with the rhythm of your own, and you’re both lost in the storm you’ve created. There are no words anymore, just the quiet, rhythmic echo of your bodies moving together, caught in the tide of sensation that threatens to drown you both.

And in the heart of it all, as you feel him throb inside you, a whisper of truth cuts through the haze: You are his, and he is yours, bound together in this moment of raw, unyielding connection. Nothing else can compare. And for a moment, Ryomen Sukuna had thought about it too. 

══════════════════

THE POTION DIDN'T WORK FOR LONG. He remembered everything. All of it. And he thinks he felt sick. Sick to the core. He hated it. He hated himself. He knew he was a cruel man, a foolish man. How could he do that? How could he do that to you?

Everything was wrong about him. And you deserved more than him. It was a continual rinse and repeat. The cycle was suffocating, each time growing more suffused with an unspoken tension that neither of you could escape. 

Ryomen Sukuna, ever the stoic, had felt that sharp pang of guilt again. It always caught him when he least expected it, the ghost of an emotion he tried so hard to suppress. The way you looked at him was always with eyes full of tenderness, full of trust. And everything about it had haunted him in those quiet moments. 

But guilt was a weakness, a human frailty that did not belong to him. He had learned to bury it, to lock it away with all the other feelings he refused to confront. And so, once again, the weight of that emotion was swallowed by the darkness he carried within himself, and he moved on.

You, on the other hand, were trapped in a cycle of confusion. The potion was seamless, subtle in its potency. One moment, you were wrapped in a night of passion, tangled with him in a world that felt more real than anything else. 

But the next, everything was gone. No memory of his touch, of the way he had made you feel; no trace of the connection you had shared. Just a deep sense of something missing, a gnawing hole that you couldn’t understand. 

The fog in your mind only deepened when you tried to recall the details. It was as though you had forgotten how to ask the right questions, and even when you tried, the answers weren’t there. Sukuna felt bitter and sick about his own actions. 

The potion worked too well.

And so, you found yourself caught in the same pattern, over and over. Confusion, followed by fleeting glimpses of something that should be familiar but never quite is. Each time you reached out for him, whether for comfort or answers—there was a distance, an impenetrable coldness that he wrapped around himself. 

The more you tried to close that gap, the further he seemed to pull away. You would ask, softly at first, tentatively: "Why do you look at me like that?" or "What happened?" But Sukuna never answered. 

His gaze would flicker, distant, uninterested, as if the question itself were a nuisance. He would look at you for a moment, but never fully engage, never fully reach for you. The warmth you once had between you felt as though it had turned to ice.

And it stung.

You would find yourself alone in the aftermath, wondering what had changed. Wondering what you had done wrong, what you had missed. It wasn’t like him to ignore you. Not in the way he did now. His absence wasn’t just physical—it was emotional, like he had shut a door between you that you couldn’t get through. 

His indifference was sharper than any anger he could have thrown your way. Each time you tried to get closer, to break through the cold silence that had enveloped him, the distance seemed to grow. It was as if the very act of reaching out to him had become a punishment, one you didn’t understand.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, that this time, the disconnection wasn’t just a hunch for you. No, it was not just a guess. You couldn’t even remember how many times this had happened now, but each time it was harder to ignore, harder to pretend that you weren’t losing something you could never get back. 

The confusion was maddening, the way you had to fight against your own mind to remember pieces of a night that had been so vivid, so full of promise. You could almost feel him there, his presence heavy and undeniable, but the memories always slipped away, as if they belonged to someone else.

And then, there was Sukuna. Unreachable, aloof, silent. He would turn away when you looked at him for too long, pretending not to notice the ache in your gaze, the way you waited for him to explain. He never did. 

And when you pressed, he became colder, more detached, his disinterest palpable. He ignored you, avoided your touch, and the more you tried to understand, the more he made it clear that you were not meant to.

He had been there—yes, he had been. But now, when you needed him most, when you tried to break through to him, he wasn’t. Not really.

It left you questioning everything. What have you lost? What was real? What had he erased? And why, no matter how hard you tried, did it feel as if you were always walking in circles, never getting closer to the truth? It was as though you were always on the outside of something, always knocking on the door but never able to step inside.

It wasn’t just the potion anymore. Something deeper had shifted, something that even Ryomen Sukuna couldn’t hide beneath his cold, indifferent exterior. The question now was whether you would ever get the chance to find out what.

You sit in silence, your fingers drumming on the edge of the table, eyes trained on Sukuna as he remains seated across from you. His gaze is cold, unreadable, but there's a flicker in his eyes, a subtle shift in the way he watches you, as though he's aware of the question you haven't lived yet.

The air between you feels heavier than usual, suffused with the unspoken tension that’s been building for weeks. You can’t ignore it anymore—the gnawing sense that something is slipping through your fingers, something important. And the more you try to hold onto it, the more it fades.

You finally break the silence, your voice quiet but determined.

“I… I feel like I’m forgetting things. Important things, my lord.” you admit, not meeting his gaze. The words feel heavy on your tongue, almost like admitting something you don’t want to be true.

Sukuna remains still, his crimson eyes narrowing just slightly, watching you with that same detached intensity. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t speak. You can feel the air grow thick with the weight of his silence, and it only makes the ache inside you grow sharper.

“Like what?” His voice is low, measured, but there's a faint edge to it that you can’t quite place. He knows what you’re talking about. Of course he does.

“I don’t know, my lord.” you mutter, frustration leaking into your voice. “It’s like I wake up and there’s a hole in my memory. Pieces are missing. And I—I can’t even remember what happened the night before. It’s like I’m walking through fog, like everything is just out of reach.” 

You raise your eyes to meet him, searching for something—anything—in his gaze. “I can’t explain it, but it feels like I’m losing myself.”

Sukuna leans back in his chair, his posture casual, but there's something unreadable about his expression. His fingers drum lightly on the armrest, a rhythm that matches the quickening beat of your heart.

You wait for him to say something, anything, but he remains silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on you, as though weighing something important in his mind.

“You know what’s happening, my lord.” you say, your voice suddenly a little sharper, more desperate. “You must know. I feel like you’re hiding something from me. Why—why won’t you just tell me? What am I forgetting? Why does it feel like you’re slipping away from me, every time I try to reach you?”

A dark, fleeting look crosses his face—something almost guilty, but it’s gone too quickly for you to catch it fully. Instead, his lips curl into that familiar, mocking smirk, but it’s lacking the usual bite.

“I’m not hiding anything, little one.” he replies, his voice low, but there’s an undercurrent of something dark in it. “It’s your mind, not mine. You’ve always had a tendency to forget what’s inconvenient. It's your own fault.”

Your chest tightens at his words. It’s not the answer you wanted—not even close. You lean forward, trying to control the emotions threatening to spill over. You were exhausted with this. You cannot take anymore of this.

“You can’t seriously expect me to believe that, my lord.” You shake your head, feeling a bitter frustration rise in you. “I feel like I’m going insane. One moment, everything feels so real, and the next... it’s gone. And I—I know it’s not just me. Something is happening, and you’re the only one who doesn’t seem bothered by it.”

Sukuna’s smirk fades, and for the briefest moment, something flickers across his face. It’s not guilt, but it’s close, something between acknowledgment and dismissal. He doesn’t answer right away, letting the silence stretch until it’s almost unbearable.

Finally, he speaks, his tone heavier now, more controlled. “Maybe you’re remembering things you shouldn’t, little one. You don’t need to know everything. Some things are better left forgotten.”

The weight of his words sinks into you like a stone, and you feel the truth of it in your chest, the way it sits there, cold and heavy. You swallow hard, trying to push past the confusion and hurt that swirl in your mind.

“Is that it, then, my lord?” you ask, voice breaking a little, though you try to steady yourself. “You think I should forget all of it? Forget the parts of me that belong to you? Forget about everything that could be important? My lord, that is cruel.”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes darken, the cold distance in them sharpening again, but his expression doesn’t change. He leans forward slightly, his presence looming, like a predator assessing its prey. He doesn’t want to play his part. But it must. He had made it this far. He ought to own it.

“Stop asking questions you know I won’t answer. You know how this works.” His tone turns almost icy, cutting through the air. “What you remember doesn’t matter. Only what I allow you to remember does.”

You stare at him, the truth of it settling in like a weight in your gut. His words are like a bitter truth you can't swallow, but it doesn’t make them any less real. The distance between you widens again, suffocating, and you’re left staring at him, unsure whether to be angry or broken.

"Then why even keep me here, my lord?" you whisper, more to yourself than to him. The question feels pointless as soon as it leaves your lips, but it lingers, a sharp sting in the air. “You ought to send me to the Cold Hall. Or leave me be.”

For a moment, Ryomen Sukuna remains silent, his gaze flickering toward you with an unreadable expression. Then, he leans back, his features hardening into that impenetrable mask. 

“Because, little one…” he says, his voice low and deliberate. “I can. And I will.”

And just like that, the space between you becomes an abyss again, and you’re left wondering if you’ll ever get the answers you crave—or if, in time, you’ll forget you even asked. You turned away from him. You could feel his gaze bore a hole on the back of your head. But he noticed everything. He was no fool. 

Tears poured from your eyes.

You tried to quickly wipe them away.

But as you wiped them, more came by.

Even your body knows you were miserable.

Even your body knows something’s missing.

Something is wrong.

══════════════════

YOU ONCE MORE LOCKED YOURSELF AWAY IN VERMILLION HALL. You refused to see your husband and perhaps that was for the best. You had cried yourself to sleep for days now, the frustration eating away at you like an insidious thing. The weight of unanswered questions, the endless confusion, it had all built up and bled into your dreams.

The emotions had overwhelmed you to the point where sleep seemed like the only escape, the only refuge from the torment of not knowing. But sleep, as you soon discovered, offered no solace. It was restless and fleeting, filled with fragments of images, of faces, of a life you could never fully remember.

But when you woke, it wasn’t to the comfort of the blankets you had once found so familiar. No, you woke to an entirely different feeling—a sharp, searing pain that stabbed into your core, as if something inside you had broken open. 

It wasn’t a pain you had ever felt before, and it was so intense that it left you gasping for air, clutching at the sheets in a desperate attempt to understand what was happening to you. You felt like you were drowning, it felt like you were being stabbed.

Your mind was foggy, clouded with the remnants of your dreams and the confusion of the past days, but you didn’t need clarity to know that something was wrong. The pain was unbearable.

It was harshly crawling beneath your skin, wrapping around your insides with a terrible urgency. You frantically pulled at the blankets, your hands trembling as you tried to understand what was happening.

When you looked down, your breath hitched in your throat. Blood. It stained your sheets, pooling beneath you in stark, alarming contrast to the softness of the fabric. You groaned over and over in grievous pain.

Panic surged through you, a wave of shock and terror, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the fear choking you. You couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t wrap your mind around the sight before you.

You cried out, the sound raw and full of terror, your voice hoarse from the tears you had already shed. “Help me.” you whispered, your throat thick with panic, “Please…”

Within moments, your servants appeared soon; they were quick, frantic, their faces filled with concern and confusion. They rushed to your side, trying to assess the situation, to comfort you, but nothing they did could quell the overwhelming pain or the terror that gripped your chest.

“What happened? What’s wrong, my lady?” one of them asked, her voice trembling with concern as she hurried to help you sit up, her hands gently lifting the blood-soaked sheets away from your body.

You could barely answer, the pain making it impossible to form coherent words. All you could do was sob, clinging to them as if they could somehow stop the agony, stop the deep, hollow ache that was consuming you.

One of your servants hurried out, calling for help, while the others tried to tend to you as best as they could, offering comfort, but the fear in their eyes mirrored your own. Something was terribly wrong.

And no matter how many times you tried to explain it, tried to understand it yourself, you were left with more questions than answers. Why were you bleeding like this? What had happened to you? What were you forgetting?

The answers felt just out of reach, like a secret too dangerous to uncover. And the more you tried to grasp them, the more you sank into the unknown. You were crying endlessly, crying out in pain with or without the voice to do so.

Your servants worked swiftly, their hands trembling as they tried to stabilize you, but their movements felt like a blur, the world spinning around you. Their frantic whispers only heightened the feeling of helplessness clawing at your chest. 

One of them, a younger woman with dark eyes, pressed a cloth against your body, trying to stop the bleeding, but it felt like a losing battle. The blood stained your skin, soaking into the fabric of your nightgown and the sheets beneath you.

You could feel yourself becoming dizzy, your vision blurring as the pain intensified. Each pulse of pain seemed to radiate outward, as though it was coming from deep within, tearing at the fabric of your body, but you couldn't grasp why. Your thoughts were scattered, lost in a haze of fear and confusion.

"Stay with us, my lady. Please." one of the servants pleaded, her voice strained with panic. "We'll get help, please, just stay awake."

You barely heard her. The pain was too much, drowning out everything else. And then, a voice from the door, a voice you hadn’t heard in a long while had cut through the chaos. You couldn’t see his face. But his voice, it was the clearest it has ever been.

"Enough." Sukuna's voice rang out, cold and commanding. He appeared in the doorway, his gaze falling on the scene before him, and for a moment, everything stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat, the pain momentarily forgotten as you locked eyes with him. He looked unchanged, as imposing as ever, but there was something in his expression, something almost unreadable as he stepped closer.

“What’s going on?” His voice was low, but it was laced with an unfamiliar tension, something far removed from the indifference you’d come to expect from him.

You tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come, your body trembling too violently, too weak to form any coherent thoughts. Your breath hitched as another wave of pain shot through you, sharper than before.

It felt like something inside you was breaking open, tearing apart. The physical pain was unbearable, but it was the emotional toll that made you feel as if you were unraveling at the seams.

"S–she's losing too much blood, my lord." one of the servants said, trying to explain, but her voice faltered under Sukuna’s unwavering gaze. “My lady is bleeding and…we do not know why.

Ryomen Sukuna’s scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, his focus shifting to you. For the first time in a long while, something like concern flickered in his gaze, though it was masked by the familiar coldness that surrounded him.

He approached, kneeling at your side with a fluid, deliberate motion. Your cries were bellowing over and over against his ears. He could see it from where you embraced your body, the blood. 

His hand hovered over you, but he hesitated, as if unsure what to do. There was a knowing look in his eyes, as if he had known this story before. But you didn’t want to question him. You couldn’t. You were in too much pain to do so.

“What happened?” he repeated, his voice softer now, but there was an edge of command in it.

“I—I don’t know, my lord.” you gasped, each breath shallow, the words barely escaping your lips. “It hurts so much... I’m—I'm bleeding. I don’t know why.”

His eyes flickered briefly to your servants, who seemed to retreat slightly, their discomfort obvious, unsure of how to proceed. But Sukuna's attention remained solely on you, the deep crimson of his gaze scanning over your trembling form. 

The tension in his jaw tightened. He didn't speak right away, but there was something in his regal posture, there was something predatory in the way his eyes locked onto you that made it clear he was piecing something together.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice almost too calm. "What were you doing before this happened?" he asked, his words cold but controlled, as if you should have already known the answer.

You struggled to keep your focus, the pain blurring your thoughts, but the question cut through the haze. You had been trying to remember, hadn't you? You had been trying to understand what had happened between the two of you, what had led to this moment.

“I—I don’t know…I was resting and I just….” you whispered, tears slipping from your eyes as you looked at him, feeling helpless. “I was trying to understand… but I can’t. Everything’s… everything’s slipping away. It’s like I’m losing pieces of myself.”

Sukuna’s expression darkened, a flicker of something. Was it regret?—crossing his face before he masked it again. He looked at the servants and nodded once, a quick, sharp motion. You did not know. You did not wish to know.  

"Leave us. All of you." he commanded. "I’ll handle this."

They hesitated for a moment, but his tone left no room for argument. One by one, they filed out of the room, leaving you alone with him. The silence was oppressive, thick with unspoken words and tension.

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze returned to you, and for a moment, the world felt impossibly small, the pain in your body sharp and real, but the uncertainty in your heart was just as consuming. 

“I should’ve known better, little one.” he muttered, more to himself than to you, as if grappling with something he hadn’t fully admitted.

“Please…” you breathed, the words almost a plea. “I need to understand. What’s happening to me? Why am I—”

“Stop asking questions, little one.” he interrupted, his voice commanding, but softer now. He leaned closer to you, his hand hovering over the pool of blood as if sensing something, feeling the pulse of whatever was inside you. 

There was a flicker of something darker in his eyes—something that almost felt like guilt, but Ryomen Sukuna never allowed that weakness to surface.

He turns away for a moment, to look at the clear water in the silver basin. He could see his reflection, he could see the monster. He pauses. He purses his lips in a flat line.

“You were never meant to suffer this, little one.” he said, his voice low and grave, the truth of it settling in your chest. “And now… now it’s coming back to haunt us both.”

The words felt like a punch to the gut. You couldn’t understand it. You couldn’t make sense of it. But the look in his eyes, the way his hands trembled as he reached for you, told you that the answers you sought were far more dangerous than you could have imagined.

What could be the meaning of the truth? 

Was it all truly worth it, finding out everything?

Tears pooled over your eyes, melting in with your sweat.

“I am sorry, little one.” He says, his voice low as he brushes your hair away from your eyes. He smiles with such sorrow. The most you’ve ever seen in your long life with him. “I had made you suffer again, have I?”

A guttering sob echoes from your lips, tears flowing ever more abundantly. The fear echoes in your eyes as much as the pain did. Ryomen Sukuna let his hands become submerged into the water. He takes the wet cloth and starts to squeeze away at the heavy dues of water.

“This will hurt.” He whispers to you, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. “Forgive me.”

══════════════════

HE HADN’T FOUND THE COURAGE TO LEAVE YOU. Not like this. Ryomen Sukuna stood in the quiet of the room, watching you as you lay pale and still beneath the blankets. Finally, you had found yourself resting.

Your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, the sleeping potion he'd given you working its way through your system to calm the pain and induce sleep. But sleep had come too late—too far after the damage had already been done. You were still, but the scars of what had happened remained.

He had felt it, the weight of his actions, sinking into the pit of his stomach like a stone. The guilt gnawed at him like an insistent whisper, and the more he tried to drown it out with silence, the louder it became. But no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the truth clawed its way to the surface.

You had almost died once more. All because of him. All because he was a foolish man, a cruel man. An even crueler master, an even more foolish god. Everything about it was his fault and his alone. 

And because of it, there has to be a price. Fate did not care for the innocent nor the saints. It cared for retribution, for the price of the act be paid in full. And so, the life that had once flourished inside of you was gone now—taken away in a manner as cruel and sharp as the sins that had followed him throughout his existence.

Ryomen Sukuna could not even begin to process the violence of it all. The miscarriage—the life he had unknowingly torn away. The nights together, the heat of his desire, and the overwhelming need for you had been his undoing.

And now, the consequence was here, the result of his insatiable hunger for you. He had taken what was not his to take, and the cost of that was now clear.

It wasn’t just your body that had suffered. No, it was something deeper, something that would linger in him long after your recovery. The guilt, the realization that he was not invincible that his desires could bring destruction in their wake made his chest feel tight, suffocating.

He had wanted you. The way your presence made him feel alive, the way you fought him, the way you surrendered, had become a constant itch he couldn’t scratch.

But now, the price of his inability to stop, to control himself, to pull back, was laid bare in front of him. And now you suffer the consequences for him. His little one.

Sukuna reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against your forehead, lightly touching the dampness of your skin. You had no idea what had just happened.

You were unaware of the deep, catastrophic consequences of your union. And in this moment, he wished more than anything that you would wake, that he could make it right somehow.

But deep down, he knew there was no going back. This was his crime, and no amount of self-loathing could undo it.

His dark scarlet eyes, usually cold and ruthless, softened for a brief moment as they lingered on your sleeping face. He had always been a being of darkness, of overwhelming power and control. But in your presence, his control had slipped. And now, the consequences of that were too real to ignore.

Sukuna stood, the weight of his guilt threatening to collapse him under its force. He turned away, not trusting himself to stay there any longer, knowing that if he did, he might break under the pressure of what he had done. But as he left, as he retreated into the shadows, one thing was painfully clear: there was no redemption for him, not for this.

His craving for you, his sin, would always linger, a constant reminder of how even the most powerful could be undone by their own desires. Sukuna’s footsteps echoed through the quiet halls as he paced through the temple halls.

With each step weighted with a thousand thoughts that he could not escape. The dark emptiness of the space mirrored the turmoil in his mind, and the oppressive silence seemed to press in on him, suffocating him with its suffocating weight.

He had once been a king of curses, a being of unimaginable power. He had commanded nations, destroyed cities, and crushed anyone who dared oppose him. And yet, here he was. He found himself unable to leave.

He was there, standing at the edge of the abyss, unsure of what to do with the mess he had created. The guilt gnawed at him from the inside, a constant, unbearable reminder of his failure—not as a king, not as a god, but as something far more human than he had ever wished to admit.

He had wanted you. He had craved you with a hunger that was both consuming and insatiable. But now, that desire has cost you more than he could bear. Your life—your very being—had been reduced to an almost fatal casualty in the wake of his passion.

And the life that could have been, the child that had been growing inside you, was gone. All because of his weakness.

He stopped in front of a mirror, staring at his own reflection. His crimson eyes met his own, but he barely recognized the man staring back. He was no longer the powerful curse that had once ruled with an iron fist, no longer the being that felt above all others. He was just a hollow shell, a broken creature cursed by his own desires.

“You were never supposed to matter.” he muttered to himself, his voice raw with the edge of something close to self-loathing. “None of this was supposed to happen.”

His gaze fell, his hand coming up to grip the mirror's edge. His fingers curled into a fist, as if trying to destroy the reflection in front of him, to erase the reminder of his weakness.

But the image remained. The truth remained. He had been foolish, had allowed himself to feel, to need—and now, the consequences were irreversible.

He turned away from the mirror, his mind churning with the weight of everything that had happened. You had been so innocent in all of this, so unaware of what was going on behind the scenes. Of what his selfishness, his guilt, his cruelty — could do.

He could still see the confusion in your eyes when you had asked about your forgotten memories, the pleading look on your face as you tried to make sense of the fractured pieces of your past.

He had told you to forget, to accept what was happening without question. But deep down, he knew you were right. You deserve the truth. And yet, he could never give it to you.

Sukuna’s fists clenched once more, his chest tightening with the painful realization. What he had done to you, what he had done to your body, it could never be undone. The life inside you had been snuffed out before it could even have a chance to grow. And all because of him.

He could hear your soft, labored breaths echoing in his mind, the sound of your pain, your suffering. The thought of it almost brought him to his knees. But he couldn't stop. He couldn’t undo what had already been done.

He had wanted you too much, had wanted you in ways that consumed him. The guilt, the agony, it was all wrapped up in that same burning desire.

But no matter how much he hated himself for it, no matter how much he wanted to walk away and never look back, he knew he couldn’t leave you. Not when you had become so intricately tied to everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever craved.

With a deep, tortured sigh, Sukuna turned back to the door and made his way toward your room. He had no answers to give you, no redemption to offer. But he would be there. He couldn’t leave you, not now, not when he had already destroyed everything. 

The best he could do now was stay. To watch, to wait. To let the pain he had caused burn into him, until it became a part of him, a part of the inevitable price he would always pay for what he had done.

As he approached your door, he paused for a moment, his hand resting on the handle, the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wasn't sure what he expected from this encounter.

Was there still a part of him that hoped you could forgive him? Or was he simply there because, like the curse he was, he was tethered to you in ways that defied understanding?

He stepped into the room, his eyes immediately falling on you, lying so still in your slumber. The sight of you, fragile and broken, made his insides twist in a way he had never known. There was no redemption for him. Not now. Not after all of this.

But he was still here. And he would never leave.

He would never stop finding himself drawn to you.

And maybe that was the cruelest punishment of all.

══════════════════

THE HEALER HAD SAID TO REST AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE. And you had done just that. The air around Vermillion Hall was thick with the sound of everyday life. Everything about it has made you feel healed more than anything. You could hear the children's laughter, servants going about their duties, and the occasional clink of crockery from the kitchen. 

The days had grown quieter since the incident, and though your body was slowly recovering, your heart still aches with the absence of what could have been. And yet, somehow, you weren’t alone. Not even when you wanted to. But perhaps, it was for the best.

Ryomen Sukuna’s presence had become an uninvited constant. At first, his decision to move to the nearby Repentance Hall had seemed insignificant. But now, with each passing day, you realized just how much of an impact it had on your life.

You were seated at a table in the sunlit dining room, carefully eating a small portion of food when Sukuna walked in, his figure tall and commanding even from across the room. His scarlet orbs flicked to you, but he said nothing as he made his way over to sit across from you. 

His posture was casual, but there was an unsettling weight in the air, as if his very presence was always carrying something unspoken. Perhaps that was just how intimidating your husband’s presence was. Everything about him was magnanimous. And it was hard to fight. It was hard to win against.

He watched you for a moment, studying the way you slowly ate. A sigh passed his lips, not one of impatience, but of something more complex. Something that was not as easy to read as before. Perhaps a silent acknowledgment of the burden neither of you had asked for. One that you would not want to talk about, not right now.

“You’re eating less, little one.” he commented, his voice low, but there was a certain sharpness to his tone.

You paused, the fork hovering in the air, before setting it down. "I’m fine, my lord." you said softly, your eyes meeting his own with a mix of weariness and frustration. “I’m just… still not hungry. I’m not used to being like this. The healer had said it was fine.”

Sukuna leaned back slightly in his chair, his dark gaze never leaving you. “It’s not about being used to it, little one.” he said, his voice colder now, as if he were speaking to a child rather than an equal. “It’s about getting better.”

“You hover upon me too much, my lord.”

“You are my concubine, my wife.” He tells you ever so bluntly. “And you are unwell. Should I just abandon you thus?”

There was a long silence between you two. His words were heavy, yet devoid of tenderness. He cared, in his own way, but never in a manner that you could decipher. His scarlet orbs tenderly flickered to the children playing outside, their sounds of joy drifting in through the window, before returning to you.

“Why did you move here, my lord?” you asked suddenly, breaking the silence, your voice gentle but questioning. “The trip to the audience hall is longer than before with such a move. Heaven’s Hall is more convenient than this.”

You hadn’t asked him before; the question had never felt right, never appropriate in the swirl of chaos that had come in the aftermath of everything. Ryomen Sukuna’s lips quivered slightly at the question, though the smile didn’t reach his eyes. 

"You really have to ask, little one?" He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze intense now, as if daring you to probe deeper. “I told you it was better this way.”

“Better?” you echoed, shaking your head in disbelief. “For whom, exactly? You barely speak to me. You don’t even explain why you’re here or why you’re…”

You trailed off, a bitter taste in your mouth as the words you had been holding back for so long finally spilled out. “Why are you staying here? My lord, this is…. What is this? What are you doing?”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid. Sukuna did not flinch at your outburst, nor did he retreat. Instead, he remained as still as a stone, his crimson eyes locking onto yours with an almost unreadable expression.

"I cannot leave. Not like this. I do not want to be near you, after all that I have done." His voice was low, but there was something in the harshness of it that made you falter. "Do you think I want to be near you after what I’ve done? But I cannot leave you….I cannot. You are……."

He stops himself, his lips turning into a flat line. You tried to open your mouth to respond, but the words failed you. He wasn’t shouting, but there was a palpable tension in his words that sent a chill through you.

The truth of what had happened. The weight of the consequences was there between you, even if neither of you could fully confront it.

"I know….." he continued, his voice softer now, but still heavy with guilt.

"You’ve suffered because of me. More than I care to admit. But it’s not like I can undo what’s been done." He paused, his eyes flickering with something close to regret. "You don’t want me here. But it’s... easier this way. For you. For me. For the children.”

You stared at him, processing his words slowly. It was an admission of sorts, though he cloaked it in his usual arrogance. He wasn’t just here for the sake of proximity; he was here because, despite everything, he couldn’t bear to be entirely distant from you. 

There was something in your husband, something primal, something deeply conflicted that kept him bound to you, even if he didn’t know how to act on it. Sickening as it all is, painful as it all is — it keeps you both together. And almost like a game, both of you do not want to lose it and leave.

"But why the children?" you asked, your voice quieter now. "Why do you walk them in the morning, share meals with them when you barely speak to me? What do you want from me, my lord?"

He looked away then, his jaw tightening as if he were fighting against something inside. "I don’t know." he muttered, almost under his breath. His voice was rougher, as if the words themselves were a struggle to form. "I don’t know what I’m doing."

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you as thick as the silence that wrapped around the room. You could feel his eyes on you, and you sensed something different in his gaze.

There was an unfamiliar vulnerability there; something far less like the commanding, untouchable king you had come to know, and more like something human, something raw. Finally, after a long pause, Sukuna’s eyes softened. Even for just for a second.

"I may not have been the one you thought you needed. I cannot say what you want me to say, to do what you want me to do, little one." he said slowly, his voice surprisingly calm. "But I’ll be here. In whatever way I can. I promised you that, haven’t I?"

You blinked, unsure whether to be relieved or frustrated by his admission. His presence, while undeniably constant, was still a riddle you couldn’t solve.

But something in the tone of his voice, in the way he had dropped his usual bravado, made you feel a flicker of something—a strange, uncertain hope.

"I’m trying, little one." he added softly, looking away from you again, as though not quite able to meet your gaze. "Trying to be… better. For you. For everything."

The words hung between you two, and though the weight of everything still lingered, a small part of you wondered—perhaps hoped—that there was more to his actions than you could see.

The silence that followed hung in the air, thick and laden with the weight of unspoken truths. You watched him as he shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes now focused on something beyond you, anything, it seemed, but you. 

His admission, raw and unrefined, left you uncertain about how to respond. He had never been one to reveal vulnerability, and now, with his words lingering in the space between you, you were unsure if you should reach out or retreat.

Sukuna cleared his throat, his usual arrogance beginning to seep back into his voice, though the softness that had briefly touched his words lingered beneath.

“I don’t expect you to understand, little one.” he said, his tone rough. “But I’m here because I can’t seem to stay away. Whether I want to or not.”

Your heart twisted at that, the feeling of both connection and distance pulling at you like a string being tugged in two directions. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to ask him how he could do that to you and then sit here, speaking in circles as if it were nothing. 

But a part of you, a small part, understood. Understood that in his own way, he was trying to show you something. Trying to make up for what had been lost, even if he didn’t have the words for it.

He leaned back, stretching his arms out behind him, his eyes momentarily closing as if contemplating the words he had just said. His gaze returned to you after a long moment, unreadable, but something was different. The guilt that had once clawed at him was still there, buried beneath layers of pride and anger, but it was no longer the overwhelming force it had been before.

"You don’t want me near, little one." he said quietly, but this time, there was an almost wistful quality to his voice, as though he were trying to make sense of the situation himself. "But I can’t leave. Not after everything."

There it was again—the implication that he was here because of his own twisted sense of responsibility, or perhaps, something else. It was hard to say. Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for his clarity, and his motives were as layered and complex as his personality. But, for once, he didn’t seem entirely sure of himself either.

You couldn’t help but feel conflicted. Part of you wanted to lash out—demand that he leave, that he stop playing this twisted game, stop pretending to care when he had caused so much damage.

And yet, another part of you, the part that still held on to some semblance of trust, felt the ghost of something softer, something that had once existed between you two.

"Why stay, then, my lord?" you asked, your voice soft, almost pleading for some sort of clarity. "If you can’t undo what’s been done... if you can’t fix it... why bother?"

He stared at you for a long moment, his crimson eyes sharp yet distant, like a predator weighing the cost of its next move. “Because, little one…..” he began, his voice barely above a murmur. “I can’t just walk away from you. No matter how much I want to. Not even when I need to.”

His words were quieter now, as if speaking them aloud made them more real, and in that moment, you could see it. The battle inside of him. Ryomen Sukuna was always in control, always calculating, but right now, there was something else beneath his hardened exterior. Something that made him seem almost... human.

"Why?" you whispered, the question feeling like an accusation and a plea all at once. "Why me?"

Sukuna didn’t immediately respond. His gaze drifted to the window, to where the children were playing outside, their innocent laughter a stark contrast to the weight of the conversation between the two of you. After a long moment, he spoke again, his voice rough, like he was wrestling with the truth itself.

"Because... I don’t know." He chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "I never thought I’d let anyone get this close, little one. But you... You’ve been a challenge, haven’t you?" 

His gaze met yours again, but this time there was something different in it—something more complex than the cruel amusement he so often wore. "I never wanted to admit it, but here we are. Years of suffering and pain and grief and distance, we are still here. For each other.”

His words lingered, and for a brief moment, you found yourself unsure of how to respond. There was an undeniable weight to his admission, a rawness that you rarely saw from the man who once drowned in his own untouchable power.

Ryomen Sukuna’s pride, his arrogance, had always defined him—but now it seemed as though those very traits were at odds with the reality of what had happened between you. The man who could have taken everything and given nothing was now here, trying to make sense of his own tangled emotions.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice growing softer, more introspective. “You think I haven’t hated myself for this? For everything?”

His eyes darkened briefly, a flicker of his own inner torment flashing behind them. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. But it did. And now... now I can’t just walk away. Not when there’s nothing left to fix.”

You could see the weight of his words, could feel the sincerity behind them, even if he had never shown it before. It was strange, this new side of him. Strange and unsettling. But it was real, as real as anything else in this complicated, messed-up world that the two of you seemed trapped in.

The silence stretched between you, a fragile moment of understanding that neither of you fully knew how to navigate. You wanted to speak, to offer some words of comfort or clarity, but nothing seemed adequate enough. Instead, you found yourself simply looking at him, the man who had caused so much pain and yet now seemed just as lost as you.

Finally, Sukuna spoke again, his voice quiet but firm.

"Just don’t ask me to leave, little one." he said. "I can’t do that. Not yet."

And so, there was no resolution. No sudden clarity. But there was something between you now, something neither of you could ignore, even if neither of you understood it fully. It was a strange, fragile truce, one born from guilt, from unspoken desires, from the wreckage of what had once been. 

Ryomen Sukuna was staying, whether you liked it or not. That was what he had to do, that’s what his heart was telling him to do. And for reasons neither of you could explain, that was enough—for now.

“Eat with me, my lord.” You whispered to him, pointing at your dish. “I cannot finish it all.”

He smiled at you, almost so fondly. “Very well, little one.”

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒊𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. established relationship, shopping trip, dinner date at home, SMUT/ protected sex, anal sex, soft sex, lots of french kissing, size kink, breeding kink, too many feelings (reader) life in 2051, fluffy things and etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @cafekitsune & @anitalenia 🤍

“Why don’t you just move to my bed..?” Logan wondered caressing your hand softly. Thumb drawing circles on your knuckles “Would you like me to do that Sir?” Looking up into his eyes you read his emotions. He nodded “Yes princess..” batting your eyelashes he smiled pulling you closer to him. “I shall move to rest next to you Sir” confirming upon his lovely request your arms swung themselves around his neck. “I will take a shower bub, I forgot about the movie.” cheeks heating up at his words replaying the events that happened few minutes ago. “I cannot refuse you Sir.. I love you” Logan cooed against your lips kissing you slowly and long savouring the taste of your glossy lips. “And I love you..” hearing those words again from him you felt pulsing in your chest. Warmth spreading through your entire body. “I will prepare fresh pyjamas for you. Would you like me to change the sheets as well?” Suggesting while your dainty little fingers scratched his bearded cheeks. “That would be nice” he hummed watching you bat your curly eyelashes at him his heart picking up the speed pulse spiking. The sheer beauty of you “We are one— joined souls… forever” logan smirked. “Are we now princess?”

“What else do we need?” He chuckled softly watching you load the cart with groceries.

“A lot. I plan to cook only the best for you Sir” your lips curled into a soft smile. You wore a black maid dress, a rainproof coat and knee high boots. Your clothes arrived delivered and securely packaged in boxes.

“You do enough..” he whispered in your ear standing behind you as you pushed the cart. You melted into his embrace kissing his cheek softly. Some people nearby mistook you for a real human being— women complimented you. They complimented your black long locks, until you removed your glasses which covered your eyes. You had sclera hues, and for humans that was scary. You adored children so if they approached you you knelt to their height and spoke with them. Logan saw it, he only watched in awe. How was that even possible he held so much love for you? You let the children touch your hair and your hands. “One day I want to be like you!” Little girl said with a giggle.

“Come on sweetheart..” Logan extended his hand towards you when he saw security guards nearby. “We had a complaint that she’s a robot. We do not allow them to stay here or let alone engage with people. They can be dangerous” you looked at Logan gently hiding behind him lowering your eyes putting your glasses back on. “We are leaving—” he grunted shooting a death glare towards the guard forming a fist. You stopped him cupping his knuckles feeling the sharp tips of his pushed out claws against your palm “That’s alright Sir, we are leaving now” after paying and bagging the groceries together you remained silent. The child told you that she wanted to be like you one day— she thought that you were a human being. You wanted that so much— to be real for him. For your love. The thing was people mistook you for the failed kind of robots, you wanted to be better. Those who rebelled against humans you were not like them you couldn’t be ever.

“We will have the groceries delivered. Whatever you want princess. I don’t want them to judge you or stare at you. It angers me” Logan admitted as you chopped the vegetables for his dinner. “I completely understand Sir. I just wanted to be with you” you admitted and Logan sighed softly. “And I want to be with you. Every moment I get to be with you— I wouldn’t change it for the world. If anything happens to you” you put down the knife clashing distance with him locking your arms around him kissing the side of your neck snuggling in his arms closing your eyes inhaling his scent. The warm woodsy kind— your senses taking in every part of his body. His own arms coiled around you kissing the top of your head pulling you even closer to him until he lifted you your thighs wrapping themselves around his waist clinging to him. “Don’t ever let me go Sir” you blinked facing him your noses touching. “I can think of many reasons to keep you around princess” a soft smirk painted his features large palms cupping and holding your butt slowly walking around the kitchen with you. Hearts forming before your eyes leaning in kissing him long letting his tongue penetrate your lips. You moaned raking your fingers through his dark mane pulling him closer your lips being engulfed by him tasting the aroma of his whiskey breath.

You finished plating his dinner, steak with tons of veggies and a side of fries. Sitting opposite him opening his laptop while he ate his dinner complimenting every bite how good it was praising you on. “Sir? Shall I respond to your emails from work? You have over 100 unread.” Your cheeks blushed at his lovely compliments. “Come here.. fuck the emails..” he leaned back on his chair sipping on his drink. Eyes hooded, face full of affection for you. “I’m just a fuckin’ fool in love with you” he sighed taking your hand once you walked over to him. He pulled you to his lap so you straddled his hips. You lied your cheek on his shoulder draping your arm around his other shoulder closing your eyes humming a song to him. “I love you just as much—” whispering your mouth cupped his ear kissing him there.

Something occurred that night. While you rested on the bed, your eyelids shut something formed in the middle of your chest. A red ball of energy— right under your rib cage. The ball of warm energy started to pulsate. It became redder and redder to the point anyone could see the wires under your skin. You were not aware of what was happening you were completely resting and recharging. The light in your chest formed a shape of human heart. It was beating faster and faster until it found its own pace. Logan woke up at the red light in the room, he sat up next to you placing a hand on your chest you were warm. Rubbing your cheek with the back of his knuckles softly, how could a robot become half human? Unplugging your charging system he scooped you in his arms holding you placing his cheek on your forehead. “Is there something I can do for you Sir?” Your eyes fluttered open and he remained silent. The light in your chest faded away and you didn’t feel any different. “Logan..” you reached for his forehead kissing it. “What?” He whispered not believing you said his name for the first time. “Say it again.” furrowing your eyebrows you nuzzled your face against his neck “James..” his face softened. “You said my name” nodding softly “Yes.. you’re my boyfriend” bringing you down on the bed cupping your cheek he kissed your mouth softly. “You have a heart” closing your eyes placing a hand over his own heart listening to his heartbeat “It beats for you”

— Love Overdrive —

“James..” gasping for air your hands clutched the silky sheets beneath you as you found yourself under Logan. His large body shielding you, letting you feel his weight. His arms were under you as he rocked his hips into you from behind. His ragged breath coated your ear as he filled you out. “I love you..” you let out the softest moan but soon his hips picked up the speed sheating his protected cock deeper in you feeling how you coat him in your creamy essence and god he lost his mind burying his face against the back of your hair letting out the softest grunts and whimpers as he grabbed your breasts “I’m here.. I-I’m here.. I’m yours” you felt his emotions, you tamed him. He was so lost and you found him. “Fuck.. fuck…” he rasped parting your thighs even more as you were on your knees making sure to hide all of his cock in your warm centre. “You better stay princess.. need to tame your old man..” he breathed kissing your shoulder, your lips remained parted in pleasure. Taking his cock out of your wet inviting centre, rubbing the swollen mushroom tip on your other hole which seemed so tight and god you were so soft. “James” you panted looking over your shoulder as he grabbed the base of his protected cock prodding your puckered hole. You cried out— “Fuck” he groaned. Hearts formed in your sclera eyes as you bit your lower lip whining at the feel of him. Clenching around him the moment he slid right whole inside of you he gasped. “Holy f-” grunting he pulled you to kneel up between his parted thighs. Your back leaning on his chest as he grabbed your pussy from the front holding it snapping his hips against your butt stretching your other hole repeatedly. You mewled wrapping your arm around his neck touching his hair. “Oh James, Logan.. ughhh.. mmmm” you let out the softest moans and mewls which spurred him on fucking into you quicker and quicker not holding back. “You feel so good.. tightest holes I ever fucked, ugh” whispering in your ear you licked your lower lip tilting your face to him leaning the back of your head on his shoulder kissing him. Your tongues glided over each other and his thrusts became faster, harder. As if he was trying to climb inside of you “Mine.. mine mine..” sliding two of his fingers in your wet mound from the front he remained pounding your other hole until he couldn’t anymore. The moment he stilled and released all of his tension with a broken whimper. Getting rid of his used condom he reached for a new one, making sure it was correctly rolled over his swollen cock which dripped with so much cum.

“Lay down..” you breathed watching him do so climbing on top of him locking your hand around his warm length pumping it. “Shit..” he breathed chest heaving eyes hooded with desire again. His claws slowly pushing out “Shhh..” licking your lower lip you sitting on him completely touching his shiny claws with your fingers bringing them to your mouth your tongue dancing on his middle one “Ughh..” he smiled at you carefully gripping your thigh as you nestled him right in your honeypot. “I love when you orgasm” you whimpered moaning with every move of your hips as you gyrated yourself on his length your thighs rubbing on his own “Because I’m the cause of it.. I love when you push out these claws because the pleasure is too much..” his mouth parted “Fuck you’re.. you’re the cause baby.. one day you will carry my little wolves” you nodded biting your lower lip again speeding up your hips fucking him just right. “Yes Sir.. yes.. ughhh yess..” fingers tangling around his dogtags pulling on them gently you whined as he became even harder for you close to cum again reaching behind you to place your hands on his knees you rode him until he came and it was an eruption.

“Princess..”

-

(Any grammatical errors I apologise in advance)

[sinner-as-saint]

I'm insane, but I'm your baby

Dark!Bucky x Reader (age gap au) 

Run-through: You broke things off with Bucky shortly after you realised that he was quickly becoming overly emotionally reliant on you. And you were not ready for that kind of commitment. Besides, when you and Bucky first got together, the rule was no emotional bond at all. It was all just transactional, exciting, and fun. But then he changed. And you didn’t realise just how much you meant to him… until he showed you. 

Themes: ex-sugarbaby!bucky, dark!bucky, obsessive!bucky, sugarmommy!reader, mild MDLB (nicknames only), possessive!bucky, switch!bucky, smut, brief somno, bondage, praise kink, reader gets referred to as “mommy” a lot, dub con, manipulation, age gap (Bucky is in his twenties, Reader is in her late thirties), gun play, mentions of stalking and violence

a/n: warning – dark fic, pls read the themes carefully and do not consume media that makes you uncomfortable.

You knew he was already in your house the moment you walked in. 

Firstly because that was his car outside, parked near the driveway fountain. Secondly, because he’d been doing this for a whole week now. Ever since the two of you broke up, he’d show up at your house whenever he wanted. 

He still had copies of the keys you’d given him. And he acted like a brat each time you asked for the keys back. What if I left something and I desperately needed it? He’d argue. You were a busy woman, head of and handling family businesses and some of your new ones as well so you rarely had enough time to argue over keys with a young man who refused to act his age. 

Part of his bratty behaviour was your fault, you knew that. He was already spoiled when you met him – typical rich boy who rebelled against his rich parents whenever he wanted. But then when he met you, he became a total brat. You spoiled him even more than his family did – cars, trips, jewellery, a penthouse in whatever city he wanted, everything he’d asked for, you gave it to him. 

In return, he was at your beck and call. He often joked about how you trained him like a loyal puppy. You laughed, because it was true. Whenever you called, he came running to you. 

Your ‘relationship’ was perfect in the beginning. It was fun, and an amazing way for you to unwind and get away from the hectic work life. But then, Bucky got clingy. Emotionally clingy. And you tried to talk to him about it, but he would just act up and refuse to listen. Or, most of the time he’d just distract you with his amazing body. 

So you went with the flow for a couple of more months, before about a week ago you sat him down and broke things off. Of course it wasn’t easy. Bucky was especially bratty about it and was having none of it. But eventually stormed out of your house. 

He was back the very next day, begging and pleading for you to take him back. You asked him to leave. Then he was back the following day, same old story. Then the day after that, he’d let himself into your house while you were still at home. You’d asked him to leave. 

And he’d been repeating this bullshit for a whole week now. You were tired. Your days at work weren’t particularly easy. You had a huge staff to manage, meetings to attend, everything rested on your shoulders. All you wanted was some quiet time when you got home but no. A certain blue eyed young man, previously your sugarbaby, wouldn’t leave you alone. 

You sighed as you walked further into your house. Dropping your keys and shoes in the foyer as you walked towards the kitchen. And there he was. 

Wearing nothing but dark grey sweatpants. Smooth, tatted skin exposed. With his bare, muscular back to you, cooking something like he was completely at home in your space. Well, he did live here with you for the last few months. 

You watched him for a moment as he moved with ease in your kitchen. Fuck, why did he have to be so irresistible? Especially in this kitchen, where you’d fucked countless of times… 

“What are you doing?” You asked, once you were done eye-fucking him. 

Bucky turned to look at you with a sly grin on his face. He lowered the flame, wiped his hands on a nearby tea towel and made his way over to you. 

You couldn’t even push him away as he held you in his muscular arms. You could feel the dampness on his skin, like he’d just gotten out of the shower. Surely he even used your gym as well. 

He nuzzled your cheek, “Hi mommy,” He whispered, “How was your day?” He kissed along your cheek, then down your neck. So slowly you felt yourself slipping under his spell again. 

But then you recovered and carefully stepped out of his embrace. Ignoring the hurt on his pretty face at you pulling away, you asked again, “What are you doing, Bucky?” 

“Making you dinner.” He answered, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist again, “Your favourite pasta.” He smiled down at you, then leaned in to kiss your nose. “Want some wine while you wait for it to be done?” 

You sighed, pulling away again. “Bucky, I don’t like having to kick you out all the time.” You stated, looking him right in those puppy dog, ocean blue eyes. “But enough is enough. Give me my keys and please,” You tried not to sound too harsh, “Please leave. You and I, we’re done. I can’t… I can’t give you what you want, and we agreed on that. So please, leave.” 

He was quiet. So were you. It was tense, heavy, emotional silence. You were tired of always breaking his heart like this. Why couldn’t he just understand? 

“But I thought…” He crossed his arms, his muscles looking even bigger this way. “Did you never love, or care about me?” His tone suddenly softened. 

You sighed for probably the tenth time. “Bucky, this again?” 

He gave you the innocent, puppy dog eyes again. “I just… I thought we had something, mommy.” He whispered, sounding like a lost puppy, “Didn’t we?” He inched closer, his body heat wrapping around you. “Didn’t we, mommy?” He whispered into your ear, making you shiver. “Don’t you remember how good we were together?” 

You almost gave in again… almost. “Get out.” You said. 

He pulled away, surprised and frowning at the coldness in your calm tone. “Wha… what?” 

You almost felt bad. “You heard me. Get out.” You repeated. “Don’t make me call security.” 

He reluctantly left. 

You heard the purring of his car engine gradually fade, and the alarms signalled that the gates were shut again. 

You went to the stove and turned it off, the food already ruined. You cursed under your breath because you knew this wasn’t the last time. Bucky could be adamant when he wanted something. 

Or someone. 

— 

Much to your surprise, he didn’t show up the next day. Or the day after that. And just when you thought he was finally out of your life… you dreamt of him one day. Even in your dreams he was not ready to let you be. 

You dreamt of him in your room, in your bed. His soft hair brushing against your face as he kissed all over your jaw and neck… nibbling on your skin. 

He chuckled when you let out a sigh of pleasure. “I know, mommy.” He kissed along your exposed neck. “I know you didn’t mean it when you said we were done the other day,” He whispered, brushing his lips against yours, “See? Even in your sleep your body still wants me.” He sounded pleased. Mischievous. 

“So beautiful… and all mine.” You felt his phantom hands brushing against your thighs… like he always did whenever he woke up in the same bed as you. 

He always took full advantage of the fact that you slept in the nude. And you lived for those moments, those slow mornings filled with endless kisses and caresses and cuddles, and him being brat and not wanting you to leave the bed, or him. You dreamt of his lips kissing down your neck, down your chest, down your torso… 

He chuckled again, his boyish laughter echoing in your head. “You’re all wet for me, mommy.” He noted. He was right. You could feel it. Dreams always heightened every sense so you were fully aware of the wetness in between your thighs. 

He kissed your hips, whispering, “Your baby boy is hungry, mommy…” He kissed right above your clit, warm breath making your body come alive even in dreams. He always had a talent of making your body sing whenever he touched you. 

Then his warm tongue licked along your slit, his hands spreading your things apart to give him better access. Your hand moved lazily, fingers ready to slide into his hair… even in your dreamy fantasies you assumed his hair would be silky soft… but you couldn’t quite move your arm. 

That was the equivalent of warning bells ringing. You opened your eyes, no longer dreaming, and gasped in surprise as you not only found Bucky in between your legs but your hands were tied to the headboard. With one of his expensive ties. 

“Bucky…” His name sounded more like a soft moan as he shamelessly tasted you, eating you out passionately, giving you his all. 

At the sound of his name, he looked up. Held your stare as he lazily circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, then said, “Morning, mommy. How did you sleep?” 

“What…” You sounded breathless as his finger slowly slid inside you, stroking that spot inside you that he knew all too well. Fuck, this was sweet torture… “What are you doing?” 

He chuckled, finger-fucking you lazily. “Waking you up, of course.” He frowned playfully. “What does it look like I’m doing? Hmm?” He pressed another kiss to your throbbing clit before he nuzzled the space between your hips, “How dare you keep this away from me, huh? How dare you keep yourself away from me, mommy?” 

You were too overwhelmed to speak. Hands tied above your head, his finger and tongue in between your legs… each time you opened your mouth to speak, only moans escaped. No coherent sentences. 

“Bucky!” You cried out when he made you come the first time. He just chuckled and showed no sign of stopping. He added another finger and kept stroking that spot inside you, his tongue kept teasing your clit until you came a second time. “Bucky, please…” You begged. 

He looked up this time, smiling like a devilish, blue-eyed, young god. “Yeah, mommy?” 

“Please just… untie me.” You whispered, breathlessly. 

He chuckled, in that boyish way of his. “No? Cause then you’ll just pull away from me.” He reasoned. “I like you like this, all nice and open for me.” He said, “I really missed this, I didn’t even touch myself because… because that’s your job, isn’t it?” He rambled, fingers still slow fucking you. “You can’t just kick me out and stop caring for me just cause you feel like it, mommy.” He frowned, in a way you’d always found both bratty and adorable. “Don’t you see? Don’t you see I need you?” 

You sighed and whined as he made you come once more before removing his fingers from you. 

“Did you hear me?” He asked, kissing his way up your body, “Your baby boy needs you, mommy.” He whispered as he nuzzled your neck. 

You had no choice but to play along, ignoring the way your body, traitor that it was, craved him still. “Baby,” You whispered, “I need you to untie me, okay?” 

“No.” He said in that bratty voice of his. 

You groaned internally. This is what you get for fucking around with clingy, younger men. “Baby, please.” 

He pulled away to look down at you. His glorious body hovering above yours. Bare chest, only black sweatpants today. “You won’t pull away?” 

“No.” You answered, truthfully. 

“And you won’t ask me to leave?” 

“No, baby.” You were beginning to hear that familiar bratty tone in his voice. He could get whatever he wanted when he got in moods like these. 

He smirked, with nothing but a glazed, determined look in his pretty eyes. “Good,” He said, then reached behind him and pulled out his silver handgun. A very familiar handgun. Damn you, another silly purchase. This one even had his initials engraved on it. Bucky chuckled when he saw the look on your face, “Oh I would never hurt you, mommy. This is just… precaution.”

You nodded, holding his stare. You said nothing as he brought the gun closer to your chin. The cold barrel pressed against your skin as he dragged it downwards. Your heart raced faster than it ever had. Bucky’s eyes followed the trail of the gun as yours remained fixed on his face. 

Then he said, “Do you remember when you gave this to me?” He stopped the barrel right in between your breasts. “Do you remember how much fun we had that night?” He smirked, dragging the barrel further down your body. 

You hissed as the cold barrel pressed against your wet folds. Bucky had a heated look in his lust-drunk, now hooded eyes as he slid the tip of it up and down your folds, coating the barrel with your wetness. 

You squirmed under him, instinctively grinding against it. It felt immoral, chasing that feeling. Fuck. 

“Look at you, mommy.” He mumbled. “All of this for your baby boy, huh?” He brought the now wet barrel to his mouth, opening his mouth to let his pink tongue out. He held your stare as he licked it clean. That sinful tongue of his tasting you again. “You always taste so fucking good…” He tossed the gun aside once he was done proving his point. 

Your mind was a mess. Torn between giving in to desire and lust, or side with rational thinking. 

“Open your mouth, mommy.” He whispered, leaning in until his face was just inches above yours. 

When you did open your mouth, he spat in it before leaning in to give you an orgasmic kiss. Messy, wet, warm… your body tingled under him. His warm skin pressing against yours. Bucky reached up and untied your wrists. 

Instead of trying to put some distance between your bodies, you found your hands reaching for him. Your fingers sliding into his hair as he moaned into your mouth. “Fuck… mommy,” He whimpered, holding you closer and kissing you deeper. “More,” He groaned, “I want more.” 

Your bodies moved into position instinctively. Your legs spread just enough for him to settle in between them. 

You had forgotten just how sensitive you were from earlier, so you hissed in pleasure and pain as he slid all the way in. 

You saw panic in his eyes for a moment as he calmed you down, cradling your head and kissing your face. “Shh, shh, hey,” He whispered softly, “It’s just me,” He said, kissing your lips, “It’s just your baby boy, mommy. Open up for me, that’s it, there you go…” He moaned as he pulled out and pushed back in again. 

You swore as Bucky moved his hips expertly, slipping in and out of you with ease. Soon, he was slamming into you, his movement animalistic and unrestrained much like his feelings. He was relentless, taking what he wanted, how he wanted. 

“Buck…” You whined, giving up and just letting him pleasure you. 

Bucky slammed in and out of you continuously, moaning and grunting in the process. “You feel so good, mommy.” He murmured as he increased his pace, fucking into you mercilessly as your legs locked around him. 

Your thoughts were a mess yet again as you felt your vision getting blurry with each passing second. You squirmed in pleasure as both his hands gripped your hips, pulling you into him, hard, each time he filled you up. “Baby…” You moaned. 

“I know, I know,” He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. “Tell me I feel good inside you,” He whispered, “Tell me I fuck you good, mommy.” Damn him. He knew just what made you lose your mind and he used them all to his advantage, making you fall under his spell just like that. 

He sped up, rocking his hips harder against yours when he noted that you weren’t doing as he asked. His hand reached around to grab your throat carefully. He squeezed gently, speeding up into you as he looked straight into your eyes, your soul. “Tell me I fuck you good.” He said, jaws clenching and a vulnerable look in his eyes. 

You gripped the bed sheets as he pounded into you. “You… you feel so good, baby.” You mumbled, Bucky leaned down and pressed his soft lips against yours as you whispered, “You fuck me so good.” 

He smirked. “I know.” He sounded cocky as he said, “I know only I can make you feel this good, mommy.” 

Your walls constricted around him, hard enough to make him go faster. Bucky pounded into you harder than before, the sounds of your skin slapping one another resonated around the room. He took you higher, and higher, and higher until you felt tears escape your eyes. 

“Baby…” you were breathless, unable to form coherent words as he fucked you silly. 

“Come for me, mommy.” He groaned, giving you a messy kiss as he moaned some more against your mouth, “Come for me…” 

You let the pressure build inside you, before letting go, unable to hold back. More hot tears streamed down your face as Bucky kept pounding into you, your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came. He didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, chasing his own. 

“Fuck, mommy,” He came with a loud groan, filling you up with his cum yet again. You caught your breath as he leaned down to kiss you again. Kissing all over your face, down your neck and your shoulder. “That was so good,” he whispered, “See how good we are?” He caressed your face, “Why do you want to throw this away, huh?” He kissed your forehead. 

Then he looked over at your bedside table and chuckled. 

“Look at the time,” He sounded calm and normal again. “You’re gonna be late for work, mommy.” He giggled, kissing your cheek, “Want me to drive you? We could grab breakfast on our way.” 

Your brain was too foggy for you to string together words or sentences so you just nodded and whispered, “Okay.” 

— 

After that morning, it was back to being as if you’d never broken up in the first place. 

Each time you even try to say something regarding your relationship, Bucky would shut you up with a mind melting kiss. His skilled tongue and hands could make anyone forget anything. 

You’d wake up each day to find flowers on your bedside. Breakfast was always already made. And Bucky was always ready to drive you to work. 

You decided to bring this whole situation up one day while he was driving. “You know we can’t keep doing this, right Bucky? We can’t… you can’t keep acting like this.” You looked at him, sunglasses hiding his pretty eyes, jaws clenched, that tight black t-shirt hugging his muscular body… 

Bucky sent a quick glance your way, smirked, placed his hand higher up your thigh and asked, “What are you talking about?” He was so fucking good at acting oblivious. 

“This, Bucky!” You gestured to all of him. “All of this. You refusing to leave, you driving me to work.” You listed. “We ended whatever was between us,” You stated. “Why are you being like this?” You lowered your tone, realising that reasoning with him was futile. 

He didn’t say a word. He kept driving, kept his warm hand on your thigh. His touch was as electric as always. His calm demeanour was nothing but a façade, and you knew. He was like a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. 

And he did. 

When he pulled into the underground parking lot of your office building, he grabbed your wrist before you could get out of the car. 

“Let go, Buck. I’m getting late for a meeting.” You told him. 

He took his sunglasses off, tossed them aside and said, “You’re the boss. There’s no such thing as the boss being late.” 

You sighed, rolling your eyes. “Fine, what do you want?” 

“You.” He answered, leaning closer as he tugged on your arm to bring you closer to him. Fuck he smelt good. “You’re all I want, mommy. No expensive gifts, no trips, no cars, nothing.” He whispered, brushing his lips against your cheek. “Just you. All of you.” 

You groaned, pulling away a little. “I can’t give you that.” You explained. “I have a busy life, I can’t commit, I cannot be in a normal relationship, I can–,” 

He cut you off, tightening his grip in your wrist. “Is there someone else?” He questioned, again with that glazed look in his eyes. “Hmm? Is there some… Steve?” 

You frowned, “How do you know Steve?” 

Bucky smirked, “I went through your phone after you fell asleep last night.” He confessed with no shame. “He texts you quite a lot, doesn’t he? He’s a bit too flirty to be just an employee, mommy.” Bucky spoke, low and deep. “Who is he?” 

“No one.” You answered truthfully. Sure, Steve could be a little flirty sometimes. But he was amazing at his job and you couldn’t lose him so you ignored his flirty comments and texts as one does. He was indeed no one though. “Just an employee, Buck.” You said, quite annoyed. “Don’t fucking touch my phone again.” 

He subtly flinched at the coldness in your tone. “Sorry, mommy.” He murmured. He looked genuinely apologetic for a moment. “I… I saw someone kept texting you late at night and,” He let go of your wrist and slid his hand in between your thighs, “I had to see who it was.” 

Yeah. Pencil skirts around him? Bad idea. 

But his hand felt so good. His fingers sliding up and down the flimsy material of your thong. You gasped as he slid a finger into you easily. “Oh damn you, Bucky.” 

He chuckled darkly into your ear. “Do you like him?” He asked, sliding another finger inside you, making you roll your hips, thrusting into his hand. “Do you let him touch you?” 

“No,” You whined. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping his hand in between your legs as you moaned. “He’s… no one.” 

“He better be no one,” Bucky whispered, kissing down your neck as he finger-fucked you. “Otherwise…,” He gently nibbled on your skin, “You know I always keep my gun on me, mommy.” 

You gasped in shock and pleasure. “Bucky, please.” 

“I will never hurt you,” He whispered. Then chuckled almost maniacally. “You know I will never hurt you. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get rid of whoever tries to come between me and my mommy,” He said, thrusting his fingers rapidly in and out of you. “You’re mine.” 

The interior of the car was heating up. The air was dense and hot, your heart was racing as he touched you, taking you higher and higher… until he stopped abruptly. Pulled his fingers out of you and popped them in his mouth, shamelessly moaning at your taste. 

You almost came at the sight of it. 

You didn’t realise your hand had subconsciously started making its way in between your legs, seeking to alleviate the sweet pain there, until Bucky slapped your hand playfully and said, “Stop that. That’s my job.” 

That broke you out of whatever spell you were under. “Why’d you… why did you stop?” You questioned, breathing heavily. 

Bucky smiled, kissed you on the forehead and said, “I have to keep you wanting more, mommy.” He kissed your mouth, gently. “I’ll pick you up later. Just give me a call, okay?” 

And just like that, he avoided confronting the situation at hand. Again. 

—

A few days later, by some miracle, you’d managed to talk Bucky out of dropping you and picking you up from work each day. 

But of course, he didn’t agree to that out of reason. No, he needed to see something. 

You were unaware of it but Bucky had gotten access to most of the security cameras placed in your office building. The underground garage, your personal office, your assistants’ offices, the lobby, everything. 

He did it to keep an eye on you at all times. All because he wanted you safe all the time. And anytime you were out of his sight, his heart was restless. This was the only way he could be at peace. 

But also, he needed to keep an eye on this Steve. 

—

One evening you came home, and the house was eerily quiet. 

No dinner cooking. No extravagant flower arrangement waiting for you in the foyer. No cheesy notes. Nothing. 

The silence was the opposite of peaceful. You walked cautiously inside your own home, looking for the cause of this tension in the air. The kitchen was empty. So was the sunroom. And that left… 

There he was. Sitting in your lavish living room. Manspreading on a sofa with a drink in his hand and… his gun in the other hand. 

You stopped and froze immediately. “Bucky?” You called out, given he was staring at the ground rather than at you. He didn’t reply so you tried again, “Baby? What is it?” 

He looked up this time. Whatever his moods were, he could never resist those nicknames coming from your mouth. He took one last sip of his drink, whiskey it seemed, placed the glass on the carpet and said, “I thought you said he was just an employee.” 

Your heart sank. You knew who he was referring to. “He… he is.” 

“Oh?” He tilted his head to the side as he pulled his phone out, tapped a few times before turning the screen towards you and there it played. Footage of you and Steve from earlier, saying goodbye to each other. 

In the video, you could clearly see yourself smiling and laughing at whatever Steve was saying. Then out of nowhere, Steve leaned in and kissed your cheek before whispering a goodbye and wishing you a good weekend. 

You looked back up into Bucky’s eyes. They were empty. Like there was no soul behind them, nothing just betrayal, anger, and hurt. “It’s not–,”

“You said he was just an employee.” Bucky repeated, leaning back against the sofa. “Then why the fuck was he touching you? Hmm? Kissing your cheek? Why did you let him touch you, mommy?” His calm voice made you shiver. 

“How did you… have you been watching me?” You asked, taking a step closer to him, only the coffee table separated you. 

He was quiet. Cocky pout on his pink lips. You noticed the slight stubble on his cheeks and how much older they made him seem. More broody even. 

“You can’t do this.” You spoke softly, trying not to aggravate the situation. “You can’t invade my privacy like–”

He cut you off. “Oh please,” he pouted like the brat he was. “I’m your baby boy, aren’t I, mommy? Can’t I care about you? Can't I keep an eye on you when you’re away?” 

“Bucky… this is too far–” 

He cut you off again. “Too far?” He chuckled in that humourless way. “You think I’ve gone too far?” He stood up, he was in no way drunk. 

His movements were calculated, steady, and commanding. He walked around the expensive coffee table and stopped just inches away from you. 

“You’re lucky you couldn’t hear the thoughts that crossed my mind when I first saw him kissing you, mommy.” He leaned in and breathed in your scent. “He was this close to you, wasn’t he?” 

“Bucky,” You tried not to let your voice sound shaky. “Please… 

“Tell me why I shouldn't go back and…” He brought his gun up in front of your face, “mess with him a little.” He scoffed. “How dare he touch you? Hmm?” Bucky brought the barrel up to your face and trailed it down your cheek. “Doesn’t he know you’re mine?” He whispered. “Doesn’t he know only I get to touch you?” He scoffed. “Or am I your secret, mommy? Huh? Do you not tell people about me?” 

You gasped as the cold barrel trailed down your neck, and disappeared into your shirt, lightly grazing the tops of your breasts. His lips brushed against your neck next, kissing his way leisurely up and down. 

You were a mess. You were scared but you knew he would never hurt you. You thought, maybe if you hadn’t been so harsh when it came to breaking up with him out of nowhere, maybe he wouldn’t be like this right now… right? 

His hands quickly undid your top buttons as he kissed his way down to your cleavage. He let out a soft, vulnerable moan as he tasted your skin. The sound of it almost made you slide your hands into his hair to tug on it. Almost. 

“Bucky,” You whispered breathlessly, “You can’t do that. You can’t hurt him just because he kissed me goodbye.” 

He scoffed, pulling away to look into your eyes. His pretty blue eyes were still vacant. “I can. I might.” He said, “You know I would do absolutely anything for you.” He brought the barrel of the gun and tapped it against your parted lips. 

“No.” You insisted softly, “You can’t.” 

“No?” He gave you his signature puppy dog eyes. “Tell me why I shouldn't? Give me one good little reason, mommy.” He leaned in, his free hand touching you down your side. He knew your body too well. He knew you would be dripping for him if he just checked. 

He went to do it, but chose to tease you instead, dragging his fingers up and down your inner thighs through the fabric of your skirt. 

Oh damn him. Him and his intoxicating touch.

“Because I love you.” You finally slid your fingers into his hair. He closed his eyes momentarily, as if relishing the feeling of your touch against his scalp. “Just you.” You said, “It’s just you for me. He’s no one.” 

For once, his eyes lit up. “You promise, mommy?” 

“I promise baby boy, I promise.” You repeated. “Put the gun down.” You instructed. And when he did as you asked, tossing the gun aside, you said, “Now how about we forget about all of this and have one of our lazy nights, hmm? Just dinner, a movie, me and you?” 

Bucky smiled, leaning in to nuzzle your cheek. His arms wrapped around you tightly. You couldn’t help but hug him back. The familiarity of his body made you burn. The touch of his skin against yours like the electricity you craved. 

He whined as he nuzzled your neck. “I’ve missed you…” He whispered, unbuttoning the rest of your shirt before taking it off slowly. “Can I please have you? I need to feel you, mommy. Need to taste you… need to make you feel good.” He breathed into your ear, making your body shiver. “Please?” He begged. 

You nodded and let him guide you over to the sofa. He sat down and pulled you onto his lap. He chuckled once you straddled him, pulling your skirt up as you undid his pants. 

“I won’t let anyone come between us, mommy. No one. Ever.” He whispered, sliding his fingers between your legs and rubbing you where you needed him the most. He watched in awe as you gasped and moaned. Was there a prettier sight? He wasn’t sure there was. “You won’t leave me, would you?” 

“No…” You gasped as he slid two fingers into you, stroking you until he brought you right over to that edge, and kept you there. 

“Good.” He said, “‘Cause I’m crazy about you.” He chuckled, “You can’t blame me, though. Love does that to people.” He leaned in to kiss your neck, biting down on your skin playfully. “You know there’s nothing I won’t do for you, right?” He sped up his fingers, fucking you a little faster until he began to hear you make those soft little sounds he loved so much. The ones where you tried your hardest not to moan. “I will beg, worship, and plead…” He trailed off, stopped finger-fucking you for a moment, just to get your attention before adding, “...and I won’t hesitate to even kill for you, mommy.” 

You whimpered. Fear and pleasure. There was a warning in his eyes. His glassy blue eyes, there was truth in them. And manic love. Obsession. 

There was no other way for you to go about this situation so you took on your role. You reached up and carefully wrapped your hand around his throat, pushing his head back just a little. You stared into his eyes as you lifted your hips and positioned your hole to the tip of his hard cock. 

“No killing. None of that, you hear me?” You said as you slowly sank down his cock. His lips parted as he exhaled shakily, your walls clenching around him for emphasis. “Do you hear me, baby?” 

He let out one of his pretty whimpers and mumbled, “Yes, mommy.” Then he whined and cursed, “Oh fuck you feel so good.” 

“Good.” You whispered, lifting your hips up and sinking down on him again. Repeating the movement until the two of you were groaning and gasping for air. 

Meanwhile, his thoughts raced as you took his cock so perfectly. His perfect mommy. The love of his life. The woman who controlled every move, every emotion, every thing of his. 

He smirked as he looked up at you, how you were riding him. Nice and slow, and passionate. 

Bucky had to suppress a scoff. You really thought he’d let Steve go just like that? 

Silly mommy… 

Bucky might be the rebel son of his family, but his last name and generational wealth still spoke volumes. He had a little army of his own that he could command into doing anything. And they were currently… taking care of Steve on his behalf. 

Not that you would ever know. 

All you would know would be that on his way to work on Monday, Steve would have an unfortunate, terrible accident. 

“Just you and me, right mommy?” He whispered in his lust-drunk haze as he looked up at you. You looked like a goddess. One he wouldn’t mind worshipping for the rest of his days. 

You agreed. Unknowingly fueling his obsession. “Just us, baby.” 

---

Fin. 

a/n: [dials number rapidly] Freud my good man, listen–

[nadvs]

out of bounds (part seven) (end)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one | two | three | four | five | six

» masterlist

When you wake up in your cabin the next morning, it’s the first time since you arrived at camp that you wish you were waking up in your own bed back home.

Because after the way everything came crashing down on you yesterday, you don’t want to face what’s waiting for you.

At best, you have three weeks left of the season, of living with Ami after she broke your trust, of dealing with whatever’s going on with Zach if Malcolm’s words on the field didn’t make their way to the directors.

At worst, you and Zach get fired. And if your season really is cut short and you’re kicked out of here, you’re worried he’d only see you as the rule he broke, the girl who played a role in ruining something so important to him.

You check your phone to see the text exchange you had with Zach a few minutes after you left him outside last night. He had texted I’m sorry. You replied me, too.

You’re not sure how to even have this conversation. He was clearly upset with you last night and you can understand why he would be.

But at the same time, you’re uneasy thinking about the night you first told him that Ami knew about you two. He said he was okay with it, and now you’re not so sure, because last night, he texted that all was good, but it seemed like he was anything but good when you ran into him.

Zach had told you he’s not always upfront about when something’s bothering him. You know it’s simply a piece of who he is – it’s not personal. But you can’t rid yourself of the ache in your heart when you realize that even after you’ve shared so much together, you’re no exception. He keeps things from you, too.

You get ready for the day, deeply wishing your secret relationship had stayed secret.

You’re sitting with your campers in the dining hall when Ami approaches your table a few minutes into breakfast.

“Can we talk real quick?” she says quietly, cupping a hand around the inside of your elbow. You nod, following her outside.

“I am so, so, so sorry,” she says once you’re out of earshot from everyone. “I totally get why Zach’s mad and I get if you’re mad, too. I chewed Malcolm out for it first thing this morning for what it’s worth.”

You wish you knew firsthand how Zach is feeling instead of hearing through Ami. You figure she heard through Malcolm, but it hurts that you haven’t spoken to him yet.

“Why’d you tell him?” you say with a disappointed sigh, crossing your arms.

“It honestly slipped out,” she begins. “You know how I told you I thought things were starting to get serious?”

“Yeah.”

“The night before the game, I asked him if he sees anything in the future with us and…” Ami shakes her head, her frown deepening. “He was all like, this is just a fun thing for the summer. But I just kept trying to convince him and then I blurted out you and Zach are planning to stay together, so why couldn’t we?”

She sighs.

“I’m so mad at myself,” she says. “I started this fling with him agreeing it was casual, but I caught feelings and embarrassed myself and told your secret in the process.”

You take a moment, genuinely empathetic of her heartbreak. If Zach had told you he didn’t want to pursue things with you after the season, you’d be gutted.

“I’m sorry he did that,” you say.

“It’s okay. He wasn’t mean or anything. Just honest.”

You nod, figuring as much. You’re not surprised to hear that Zach’s best friend wasn’t unkind about it. Zach wouldn’t be the type to willingly surround himself with mean people.

“I really am sorry,” Ami says. “When I yelled at him about it, he said he knew not to say it loud enough for Ruby or any of the kids to hear.”

“But other counselors were around,” you say.

“That’s what I said,” she sighs. “And I swear, I told him not to tell anyone, but he was like, if any staff take it seriously, I’ll say I was just kidding around. But he apologized and I could tell he felt really bad. Apparently, he’d never seen Zach that upset.”

You look down at the grass, wishing the weight of regret on your shoulders was enough to erase it from ever even happening.

“Are we still friends?” she asks. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this dumb, I swear.”

You exhale slowly. You can tell she’s devastated. And what’s done is done.

“You’re not dumb,” you tell her. “I’m convinced there’s something in the air here that makes it hard to keep secrets.”

Ami gives you a grateful smile, chuckling softly, clearly remembering the stories you told her all about the close calls you had with Zach.

“I can get on board with that theory,” she says.

“Do you think Ruby heard? Or if any other counselors took Malcolm seriously?” you ask.

She takes a moment, then shrugs.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “All I remember is being really mad at him. Did she say anything to you or to Zach?”

“Not to me,” you say. “I don’t know about Zach. We only talked for like a minute last night. It was weird.”

“Weird?”

You nod, relieved you can at least find some sort of release with venting to her about this.

“I think he was upset with me, but didn’t want to say so. And I didn’t want to force him to talk, so I left. We said sorry to each other over text. Things just… feel off.”

“Please don’t tell me my big mouth broke up the cutest couple ever,” she says.

“Ever?” you laugh.

“Ever.”

She gives you a quick, appreciative hug before you both have to run back inside.

You meet Zach’s eyes a few times through breakfast. Even though he’s all the way across the big, loud hall, the air between you feels stiff.

Of all the difficult things you’re feeling, the sharp sense of guilt is the most overwhelming. Even though he was the one who took the first step, asking to kiss you that night by the lake, you wish you’d have resisted the temptation.

Because you know that however much anxiety you’re feeling, he’s feeling it a hundred times worse.

When Zach sets out to the pitch after breakfast, surrounded by boisterous kids, he accepts that the hope that he’d feel better after getting some food in him was misguided.

He’s always hated when his thoughts race like this. There’s no clear right answer, no obvious way to fix this. And while he’d like to listen to his impulse to ignore the discomfort, there’s no way to do that.

He knows he needs to talk to you. He’d do anything to fast forward past the serious conversation and get back to how things were.

There’s a very real chance that your relationship has been exposed. It’d be so embarrassing to have to face his aunt and uncle after breaking the one big rule, when he, of all the staff, is supposed to know better.

He’s not sure they’d really even go through firing anyone and would possibly just settle for a warning, but them finding out would be punishment enough for Zach.

He takes the fact that neither Ruby nor Tom have approached him since the game yesterday as a good sign. Plus, Malcolm assured him that whoever heard his words on the field wouldn’t take it seriously. But there’s never a guarantee.

Zach doesn’t like being mad. But he is. At his best friend. At his girlfriend. At himself. He tries to throw himself into work, pretending like the unsettled feeling hanging over him isn’t there.

By the end of the day, you still haven’t had a chance to speak to Zach. And now that you’re even closer to being found out, you’d rather not take the risk of talking in a public place.

So, you check the schedule to see that the next time one of you has an empty cabin is two days from now, when Malcolm is on an overnight shift.

Before dinner, you text Zach: want to talk on thursday night when malcolm’s gone? i think it’s best we have privacy.

He replies: yes. smart.

And then, because he can’t help himself, because he’s afraid he screwed up, he texts: miss you.

The message is a reprieve from the stress you’ve been feeling all day. You respond: miss you, too.

When Friday rolls around, Zach feels like he hasn’t spoken to you in years, instead of just days. He rushes to his cabin after lights out, tidying up like he did the first night you came over.

He’s sure in he’s in the clear because he hasn’t been spoken to by his aunt or uncle. They don’t know. While that is a relief, knowing he’s on shaky ground with you is enough to keep him on edge.

You knock quickly and quietly. Zach opens the door. He can’t help himself. He has to hold you.

You close the door and face him and he wraps his arms around you so suddenly that you let out a startled gasp.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely, nuzzled into your neck. You hug him back.

“Hi.” You breathe in his familiar scent, fresh like the morning breeze. He pulls back to see your brows pinched together, your eyes searching his face. He hates that you look surprised that he’s giving you affection.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you answer on impulse. You shake your head. “Actually, no. I mean, well, we haven’t been fired. That’s good.”

“Yeah. If they knew, they would’ve have said something by now.”

“Right,” you say. You take a deep breath. “But things feel different. With us.”

Zach hates to agree, his lips falling into a small frown. He doesn’t want to do this. He just wants to hold you and kiss you and joke around with you.

“It’s because we had another close call,” he says. “It’s okay. Things are different because we haven’t snuck out to make out in a shed in a while.”

His joke falls flat as you look down at the floor. His hands are still on your waist and when you comfortingly drag yours down to rest on his chest, it slows his thoughts down a little.

“I want you to tell me when you’re not okay,” you mumble when you gaze back up at him.

Zach’s stomach numbs with anxiety. He can feel it rising, the reflex to pretend everything’s fine when it’s not.

“I did,” he says. “I do. Remember the night on the dock?”

You nod. The way he had opened up to you about how he’d struggled with being bullied for being a quiet kid was different. That wasn’t about you.

“I mean I want you to tell me when I’m the reason you’re not okay,” you reply. “I heard from Ami that Malcolm said he’d never seen you so upset.”

“Because I was mad at him,” Zach half-chuckles. “And he’s over-exaggerating.”

It’s not entirely true. The conversation had been the most tense one they’d ever had.

Malcolm was lighthearted about it at first, saying it was a joke and that he was offended that Zach hadn’t told him about how he was breaking rules with you. But once Zach had tersley told him he could have messed everything up for him, Malcolm’s smile disappeared and he apologized profusely.

Zach couldn’t blame him. He’s hardly ever the type be serious. But so much is on the line here.

Confrontation is easier when it’s his best friend of years, but it still isn’t exactly comfortable. So confronting you, a girl he’s helplessly falling in love with, opens the door to an argument and to you deciding he’s too sensitive and not worth the hassle.

“I don’t want to push you,” you tell him, “but I remember you telling me that you get over things on your own and you don’t have to that with me. It’s okay if you’re mad that I told Ami.”

“Baby,” he whispers with a smirk. “What else could you have done? She saw these, right?”

His fingers are featherlight over your collarbone, gently rubbing over the fabric of your shirt. He wonders if the hickeys are still visible.

“I could’ve hidden them better,” you say, “or come up with a lie.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Zach breathes.

A quiet, tense moment passes between you. You’re not convinced.

“Do you promise?” you ask, eyes doleful.

His smirk fades. At this point, he’d be lying straight to your face if he said yes. Seeing you so sad is gut-wrenching. Being dishonest with you while you’re like this would just be wrong.

“It’s… complicated,” he rasps.

You bite your lip. You’re not upset that he’s mad. You’re upset that you had to pry it out of him. Your hands fall off his chest and you step back, swallowing the tears threatening to fall.

“Can we sit?” he asks softly.

You give in, settling on the edge of his bed. He sits next to you. Watching you like this is making every part of him ache, his mouth going dry.

“When you told me you don’t admit when you’re upset,” you say, “I wondered what’d happen when I did something wrong.”

Zach swallows hard. It sounds like you’ve been on edge since that night you went shopping together, holding onto his words.

“So, what, you’ve been on eggshells since then?” he asks, his tone low and sympathetic.

“No. I just mean that problems are bound to come up and I want us to feel comfortable telling the other when they do.”

You expel a deep sigh, crossing your arms. It’s hard to explain, the sense of instability this has been giving you. You want to be able to take him at his word when he says everything’s okay. Not have to wonder and nag him.

It concerns you if this will be the dynamic in your relationship. Maybe it’s too soon, but you can’t shake away the worry.

Zach nervously threads his hand through his hair. He doesn’t know what to say.

“I shouldn’t have told you,” he mumbles regretfully.

You meet his eyes, lips parted in surprise.

“What?” you say. “You should have told me. I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

“Suffer is a stretch,” he says with a small smile.

Again, you don’t laugh. The tension keeps thickening instead of easing, his heart hurting more instead of feeling lighter.

“Hey,” Zach says, placing a warm hand on your forearm, “listen, I just want us to be good again. We would have lost our jobs by now if they knew. They don’t. We’re fine. You’re still my girlfriend, right?”

“Of course.” You uncross your arms to hold his hand, saddened that he’s wary of the possibility of you giving up on him.

“So, let’s just move past this and enjoy what’s left of the summer.”

“And what happens next time I upset you?” you ask.

“I’ll tell you,” he says. You gaze at him, not sure if you can trust him.

“You will?” you ask.

It’s the first time he’d ever been on the receiving end of a critical look from you. His heart feels like it cracks down the middle.

This was the spark that catalyzed every break-up he’s gone through.

You’re kind of a pushover, Zach.

Why are you so scared of telling the truth?

You’re a nice guy, but you suck at communication.

It reminds him of when he was a kid, ridiculed for not using his voice, or really, not using it the way people wanted him to.

And it’s too much. Things with you were good and easy until you insisted on pulling his uncomfortable feelings out into the open.

Zach sighs your name, a subtle edge in his tone. He keeps his gaze on the floor, lips firming, grip on your hand loosening.

Despite your intentions to understand him, to have an honest conversation, you realize that you’re doing what you tried to avoid. You’re pushing him.

“Okay. Sorry,” you whisper, moving your hand away.

“This is why I don’t say anything,” he admits. “Because now you’re beating yourself up. I’ll be fine. I am fine.”

“Zach, if I hurt you, you deserve an apology,” you tell him. “And you can’t get one if I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

He runs his fingers through his hair again, wishing he could just go back to how things were a few days ago when you were kissing and touching and laughing together.

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what to say.

You lick your lips before speaking again. Despite everything, you just want to make him feel better and to figure out what’s next.

“Ami didn’t mean to tell him,” you say. “But since other people heard him during the game, I think we should just get through the rest of this season without taking any risks. Does that work for you?”

The sinking feeling of rejection settles deep in him. Avoiding risk means that you want distance again. And this time will be different. He can feel it. Things between you are so obviously tense. You want space from him and not just because it could get you in trouble.

He swallows down the painful lump in his throat, pushing away the hurt.

“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “If you can resist me.”

Zach meets your eyes with a smile that you know isn’t genuine. You’ve figured out by now that making jokes is his defense mechanism. This time, you let him do what he needs to feel better.

This conversation only broke things down further than fixing them, but even though you’re exasperated, you don’t have it in you to leave him the way you did a few nights ago.

Zach’s muscles lose all their tension when you lean forward, your lips brushing against his. It’s the best reassurance you can give him.

When he kisses back, cradling your face in his hands, your heart hurts a little less. You pull away, staring into his soft blue eyes, surprised how you can mad at someone but also so eager to make them happy.

It’s because it’s Zach. The man who looks out for you, who puts your clothes back on for you after intimacy, who stresses over the very thought of even accidentally hurting you.

After you pull away, he gives you the first genuine smile since you got here. You squeeze his hand before you stand up to leave. He pulls you back for one last kiss.

The following Saturday is the most excited you’ve seen the kids. In the early morning, counselors and campers are set to depart the campground in school buses to a museum that’s currently running a sports science exhibit.

You’ve overheard the vets talk about how field trips are the most exhausting days of the season, but you welcome it. You want the distraction.

After guiding your campers onto your assigned bus, you settle in the first seat behind the driver. Your heart does a flip, somehow both happy and sad, when you realize that the counselor you’re sharing the bus with is Zach, the man you need a distraction from.

His brows raise when he comes up the steps, a smile appearing on his face before he guides kids to fill up the seats. Even though you left things sort of tense, it’s nice that he’s clearly happy to see you.

When he settles on the seat across the aisle from where you’re sitting, he crosses his arms and leans back against the window, biceps bulging under his t-shirt.

“How was the shift?” Zach asks. “The night before a field trip is always a wild card.”

It takes you a moment to realize he looked at the schedule to see you had an overnight shift. Of course he’s checking on you even when you’re not on the best terms.

“Not great,” you admit. One of the girls in your cabin had woken you up after she had a nightmare. You spent a long time calming her down and then had trouble falling back asleep yourself. “I’m thinking I should learn how to do monster checks.”

Zach grins. His heart warms whenever you reference something he’d told you. He loves that you remember his silly little routine with his sister.

“Do I have to teach you everything?” he says with a sigh.

You laugh and fight the impulse to shift over and sit next to him. Despite the fragile state you left things in, you miss touching him.

Throughout the bus ride, you’re both in lively conversation with the campers. You notice that Oliver clings to Zach, talking with other kids but always close to his counselor. He clearly has found comfort in him and of course, Zach shows him nothing but endless patience and kindness.

You can’t forget how he told you Oliver reminds him of himself when he was a kid. It hurts to picture Zach as a kid, shy and reserved, needing to stay close to an authority figure so he doesn’t get made fun of.

He admitted to you how he spent so much of his childhood sad. Somebody so sweet should never have to be sad.

You glance over at him to catch him staring at you.

“Making it obvious?” he says, echoing what you’d texted him when you teased him for the way he looked at you by the campfire many nights ago.

You wish you could go back to when you were still careless, sneaking around, no conflict wedged between you. But you only nod with a chuckle, looking away.

Minutes before you arrive at the museum, Zach stands and gets everyone’s attention. You gaze up at him as he goes through the rules and reminds everyone that they’re representing the camp today.

It gives you a moment to really take him in, your eyes travelling over his hard jaw and tousled hair. He’s easily the kindest, most charming man you’ve ever met.

He makes a joke about how this is his campers’ chance to prove that they’re better listeners than yours. You gasp and stand, encouraging your girls to prove Zach wrong.

Once you plop back down on your seat, you grab one of the granola bars you packed for the kids just to throw it at Zach. He feigns shock when it hits his chest with a light smack.

“That’s not representing our camp well at all,” he scoffs. He looks at the wrapper and smiles before he rips it. “Mixed berry. Nice.”

“Give it back,” you say.

He takes a bite, looking at you with a smirk.

“What? I didn’t hear that,” he says.

You can’t stifle your laugh when you look away. Zach keeps his eyes on you, imagining a world where he doesn’t have to be your boyfriend in secret. But he feels lucky to be your boyfriend at all.

When you arrive at the museum, you direct your campers in a hectic rush. You’re standing by the bathrooms, trying to keep your campers together, when Malcolm passes by.

“Having fun?” he jokes to you over the noise.

You chuckle awkwardly, considering it’s the first time you’ve spoken with him since the staff game. Ami had told you things with her and Malcolm ended amicably, but she’s been keeping her distance, and since you’re usually with her, you haven’t had any chance to talk to him.

“Loads,” you play along, looking out at the sea of kids through the lobby. After a few seconds, he looks around and kneels closer.

“Hey, my bad about everything,” he says. “I didn’t mean to start any drama.”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, sure he can read the regret on your face.

“I was kidding around,” Malcolm explains. “Nobody would believe he’d actually break the rules. You’re obviously special since he did.”

You know he said it to make you feel better, but it has the opposite effect. Without you here, Zach would’ve had another easy, stress-free season, instead of one full of sneaking around and risking his job and reputation.

“I guess so,” is all you can say with a forced laugh.

When it’s finally time to head back to the buses, you’re exhausted. You make sure all your campers are accounted for and you settle in the front seat, wishing it was more comfortable.

You sit with closed eyes, trying to rest while you can, chatter surrounding you.

Zach sits in the front, smirking to himself when he sees you. Your eyelids flutter open and you look around, adorably disoriented. You meet his gaze.

“I’m just resting my eyes,” you say with a sweet chuckle.

“Take a nap if you want,” he says. “I got this covered.”

You smile gratefully and close your eyes again. His eyes travel over your pretty face, taking you in, missing everything about you. He’s never wanted time to go by quickly this badly.

A few days later, the directors announce that there’ll be a comet passing over the campground next Saturday night, falling right in time with the season’s last fun day.

Tom asks Zach to run an errand into town to buy all the binoculars he can find. And because he’s respecting your wish to stay at a distance, Zach invites Malcolm to go with him instead of you.

It doesn’t take you and another first-year counselor, Theo, long to set up blankets on the grass behind the staff cabins on Saturday night.

You had rushed through your dinner and volunteered to do it. At the end of the day, it’d be nice to get a good reference from your bosses. Theo overheard and offered to help, making conversation as you set up.

When the campers and counselors come out, they settle across the field. Ami stands next to you as your eyes quickly find Zach, who’s handing out binoculars.

“Remember to share,” he says to a few kids close to you. He looks down at you as he passes by. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you say. It’s the first thing you’ve said to each other in a week.

“Get a room already,” Ami mumbles quietly after he leaves.

You snort a laugh. You wish.

Tom stands in front of everyone and shares facts about the comet, pointing to where it’ll be seen in the sky and telling everyone that it’ll be visible by binoculars for a few minutes, so there’s no need to fight over them.

You know the kids well enough to know they’ll still find a way to argue.

Once it’s time to search the skies, you gaze up at the stars on the off chance that you’ll see it without binoculars.

“Any luck?” Theo asks, staring up next to you, his binoculars over his eyes. You hear impressed ohh’s scatter over the crowd. “Whoa,” he says a second later.

“No,” you laugh.

He lowers his binoculars and hands them to you. You thank him and try to find the comet, but you can’t see anything but stars through the lenses.

“I can’t see it,” you tell him sadly.

“Here - can I?” Theo says, his hands hovering over your shoulders.

“Sure.” You let him guide you to adjust your angle, his palms firm on your shoulders.

“I think you need to look just a little higher,” he says. You follow his instructions and then you see it. A bright circle with a pale streak of light following it. It’s beautiful.

“Wow,” you say with a big smile.

Everyone’s gazing up at the sky except for Zach. He’s looking at you smiling while Theo has his hands on your shoulders. Another man is touching his girlfriend and she looks happy while he does it.

He shakes his head to himself as frustrating jealousy squeezes his heart. Staying away from you has been tough, but watching someone else touch you is on another level of agony.

After the comet passes, everyone packs up for the night. The kids are still chatting about how cool the comet was as they make their way to the camper cabins.

Ami leaves your cabin for her overnight shift while you shower. You gaze up at the ceiling as you wash your hair, wondering how you already have only seven sleeps left before the end of the season.

On Saturday, parents are arriving to pick up their children and staff will pack up their things and the season will be over. It’s been a long summer, but you’re happy you came – you made money, rekindled your love for soccer, and best of all, met Zach.

You still haven’t spoken with him about what dating will look like when you’re done here, considering your colleges are an hour apart. But at least you don’t have to worry about getting fired anymore. You’re sure it would have left a mark on your relationship.

You settle on your bed in your pajamas, scrolling on your phone for some downtime. Minutes later, there’s a knock on your door.

It’s Zach. And there’s a fire in his eyes that you haven’t seen before.

“Hi,” you say softly.

“It doesn’t work for me anymore,” he says gruffly.

“What?”

“Not being with you doesn’t work for me anymore.”

You stare at him with parted lips, heat rushing through your body in seconds.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Watching another guy get close to you is too much, okay?” he says. “You’re my girlfriend.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, recollecting all that happened since the last time you spoke. He seemed fine when he greeted you earlier tonight. Who got close to you since then?

It comes to you in an instant. Theo helped guide you to spot the comet.

“That wasn’t anything,” you tell him.

“It was to me,” he says, the jealousy still ripping through him. “I don’t care who knows about us. I want him to know.”

It’s like he’s another man, not the Zach you know. His lustful stare and his dominating presence and his possessiveness are making your heart pound. Instead of the tension that’s been following you for the past two weeks, the air between you is electric, full of burning anticipation that you’ve both been trying to avoid.

You don’t care about how things were left. And you know you shouldn’t do this. But you’ve never been good at ignoring your impulses when it comes to him.

“Come in,” you say.

Zach doesn’t need to hear another word. Once the door’s shut behind him, his lips meet yours. You tremble under his hot, hard kiss.

His hands are firm against your jaw, gripping you as if you’ll slip away. Your breaths start to quicken as you kiss deeper, his hands pushing you back towards your bed.

Feeling you again, tasting you is an overwhelming relief. It’s like he’s home again. His body is buzzing, his boxers starting to feel tight already.

You let him guide you on your bed, his commanding frame leaning over as you settle on your back. His mouth trails to your throat, kissing you as you cup the back of his neck.

“I’m yours, okay, baby?” you whisper.

Your words make him moan against your skin, his hips bucking against you. He’s been dreaming about this for too long. Once he’s had you, having to keep you at a distance and act like you’re nothing but coworkers is torture.

Desire takes over you, your hand trailing to feel him over his sweatpants. Simply pressing your palm against his hard bulge makes you involuntarily writhe beneath him.

You’ve never had your mouth on him the way he had his mouth on you and now, you desperately want to please him, to show him how he’s the only one you want.

“I miss you so much,” Zach whines. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“I know. Me, too,” you reassure him. “Lie on your back for me.”

You obeys, letting you perch over him as you kiss him, but he can’t let go of control, not all the way. He pulls your shirt up, a groan of pleasure leaving his mouth when he sees that you’re braless.

You tug your shirt over your head and he roughly pulls you closer by the waist, giving him access to your bare chest, kneading and kissing.

You arch your back, moaning in pleasure as he sucks at your skin. You’re already aching for him, knees growing weak, biting your lip as he tongues you.

It takes all your willpower to pull back, but you shift lower to tug at his sweatpants. He shuffles to let you pull down his pants and boxers in one movement, his cock springing out.

He heatedly takes his shirt off, giving you the view of his naked body that you’ve missed so much.

Zach’s breath hitches when you lean to hold him at his base. Your lips are torturously close to the head of his cock.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his voice thick and hushed. You smile at him. There’s the man you know and love, checking in on you, making sure you’re comfortable.

“I want to,” you say. When you shift to kiss him on his tip, he shudders. This is all he needs, to know you want every part of him, like he wants every part of you.

You swirl your hot tongue over him and he throws his head back in pleasure, eyes squeezing shut. But he wants to watch. He wants to see how you look pleasing him like this.

He meets your eyes as you lock your lips around his length. His head is swimming watching you slowly take him in, pacing yourself, getting his cock wet with your spit.

You pull back with a smack of your lips, stroking him, eyes hard on him.

“Why would I even look at another guy when I have you?” you ask. Zach’s sure he’s never felt this good in his entire life.

You take him in your mouth again, sucking as you start to gently bob up and down. You breathe slowly as you lower to reach his base, quietly gagging when you take him all the way.

Your hot mouth tight around him makes pure euphoria flood his system.

“That’s so good,” he says, strained. “Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

He lowers his hand to gently lace his fingers through the roots of your hair, applying no pressure, simply just wanting to hold you.

You pull back, your wrist slowly twisting as you pump. The sight of you like this, your lips glossy and your eyes lustful and your fingers wrapped around him, is unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

“You deserve to feel good,” you whisper.

He’s not sure he agrees based on the way he acted the last time you talked in his cabin, but you silence his thoughts when you take him in your mouth again, cheeks hollowing.

Zach’s groans are strained and his breaths are shallow as you suck and lick. The sounds of your mouth against him are near perfection. He knows what’s really perfect is the feeling of being buried deep inside you, both of you wrapped in bliss.

He’s still feeling the flame of jealousy and so badly needs to show you how much you’re his and how much he’s yours. He finds the strength to gently pull your mouth off of him by your roots.

You meet his stare, letting him take full control as he guides you onto your back. The sight of him standing over you, tongue running over his bottom lip as he pulls down your pajama bottoms and panties makes arousal pool in your gut.

Zach leans over, chest heaving and cheeks flushed as one arm holds him up and the other dips between your legs, fingers firmly dragging up and down.

“Tell me only I get to see you like this,” he rasps.

“Only you,” you praise. His touch grants you such elation that you start to feel dizzy. “And only you get to touch me.”

His jaw clenches at your words. He traces circles on your clit, gazing down at you as your breath catches.

“You like how I touch you?” he says.

“Yes,” you moan. “You’re so good at it. You’re so good at everything.”

Zach lowers to kiss you, tongue pressing into your mouth the same moment his finger dips into you. You writhe under his touch, the pressure of his finger inside of you making you moan again.

“More?” he whispers, the pad of his middle finger nudging against your entrance.

“More.”

He slowly sinks a second finger into you, groaning at how tight and wet you are around him. He starts to slowly pump in and out, curling his fingers at the hilt, pulling back just enough to watch your expression.

His movements are slow and firm, and when he starts to rub your clit with his thumb, you clutch his shoulders in deep pleasure.

“Like that,” you whisper. “My good boy.”

The praise makes him feel like he might go insane in the best way. He can’t take the ache anymore. He pulls his fingers out, shifting to grab a condom from your drawer.

You watch him through heavy lids, taking in how perfect every inch of him is, spreading your legs so he can get inside you as soon as possible. Zach lines up against you as he lies over you, his throbbing tip gently pressing against you.

“Ready?” he whispers.

You don’t answer, hungrily gripping the backs of his hips to pull him forward. He groans, in heaven from how much you want him.

He sinks into you completely and it’s a flawless type of pain having to adjust to him so quickly. He pulls back and thrusts back into you hard, lips against yours, mouths open.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, both of you already sweaty, and you pant together as his slams fill you over and over, jolting you, your bed shaking.

“You’re my good girl,” he whispers through sighs. “Mine only.”

Your moans tangle with his, your soft heat squeezes him, and when you wrap your legs around his hips, he wants to live in the moment forever.

Zach knows he loves you. And he knows he has to wait to say it because he’d hate for you to feel pressured to say it back. If he’s lucky, when it’s time, you’ll say it back.

He grinds against your clit with steady friction and he fills you with hard pressure, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“I’m gonna…” you breathe, clenching around him. You can’t finish your sentence, losing your voice as you come, sparks firing through your body.

Feeling you flutter around him is what sends him over the edge, kissing you as he unravels, hips stuttering with sloppy thrusts as his body releases all the tension and hunger and love he has for you.

He collapses on top of you, still hard and inside you, leaving soft kisses on the corner of your lips.

When he finds the strength to stand and clean himself up, he comes back to bed with a warm, damp towel, kissing your bent knee as he gently wipes you, letting you stay on your back and come down from your high.

Zach eventually lies down next to you, cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing over your cheekbone as you gaze at each other.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m sorry things were weird with us. I’m sorry I’m so bad at talking about things sometimes.”

You meet his eyes, gently raking his messy hair back, remembering how it’s the first thing you noticed about him.

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “I’m sorry I pushed. I get if it’s hard for you. I just want us to be honest with each other.”

“I was mad,” he admits. “And I already hate being mad, but being mad at you just felt so wrong. I know you didn’t mean for it to come out.”

“Why do you hate being mad, baby?”

“Because I just… I feel weak.”

“Weak?”

“Like I should be able to change the way I’m thinking about it,” he says. “I should be more understanding.”

You let out a soft giggle, kissing the tip of his nose.

“You’re the most understanding person I know,” you tell him. “You can’t control how you feel.”

“I think I feel too much,” Zach confesses. His heart is pounding again. He’s never been so raw with somebody. But the deep adoration in your eyes makes the vulnerability less scary.

“You feel the perfect amount,” you tell him. “Your heart is big and that’s not a flaw.”

He leans closer, kissing you tenderly.

“Please tell me next time,” you whisper. “What’d you say when I didn’t tell you I was sick? I have to let you know when I don’t feel well? It goes both ways.”

He chuckles and kisses you again.

“I will,” he says. “All I’ve been thinking about is you and how I screwed up and how I don’t want to screw up again.”

“All I’ve been thinking about is you and how I can’t wait to be your girlfriend without having to hide it.”

A bigger smile grows on his lips, his eyes softening at your words. You’re a pure ray of sunshine in his life. For once, he’s confident a girl will stick around when she sees just how messy his head can get.

“How often are we going to be seeing each other when we’re out of here, huh?” you ask. “We have a whole hour between us.”

“The distance from your cabin to mine is already hard enough,” he says. You laugh hard and he realizes just how much he missed the sound. “Every weekend, at least.”

“Deal,” you say. At that moment, your stomach lets out a hungry growl and you sigh a chuckle. “I rushed through dinner and I don’t think I ate enough.”

He sits up, collecting your clothes off the bed. You laugh when you watch him tugging your panties over your ankles.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re sneaking into the kitchen,” he says. “You’re not gonna be hungry on my watch.”

The night air is cool as you make your way towards the dining hall. Sure enough, Zach finds a few snacks in the kitchen cabinets to satiate you, sitting on the counter next to you, chatting about what your class schedules will look like when the school year starts.

You get lost in conversation, and an hour later, you’re both almost dozing off. You decide to finally head to bed, rushing out of the hall and towards the staff cabins, hand in hand.

Your shoes crunch against the gravel path past the campground office so loudly that you almost don’t hear your name called.

You rip your hand out of Zach’s and turn to see one of your campers, Jemma, standing close by.

“Hey,” you say, almost frozen in anxiety. She definitely saw you and Zach holding hands. “Why are you out of your cabin?”

“I woke up,” she says with a shrug. “And I couldn’t fall back asleep so I wondered if I could see any more comets. Were you guys just holding hands?”

You don’t know what to say. You clear your throat and shuffle closer to her.

“I’ll walk you back, okay?” you say. “You’re not supposed to be out at night without a counselor.”

You drop Jemma off, the whole walk over filled with you avoiding her questions and asking her about anything you can think of. Zach is in your cabin get back, his eyes wide.

He said he didn’t care who knew earlier tonight, but you know he was overtaken by his emotions. You can tell by his expression that he’s tense. This is bad.

“She saw us,” he says, almost robotically.

“She saw us,” you confirm. You sit next to him on your bed. You figure you should lay it out on the open. “And she loves to talk. And it’s not appropriate to ask her to keep a secret. She’ll tell her friends.”

“I have to tell my aunt and uncle,” he says, “before they hear from one of the kids.”

You meet his eyes. The happiness you were feeling is deflated now, overtaken by dread. You have to accept that your worst fear just came true.

“We have to tell them,” you say. Tears prick at your eyes. “I’ll go with you. I’m so sorry. This screws everything up for you.”

“No,” he says. “I said you were worth the risk and I meant it. I knew going into it that this could happen. It happened. We’ll deal with it.”

“You’re really okay?” you ask.

“I’m weirdly relieved,” Zach admits, looking at you with empathy. “Are you okay? You could get fired.”

“Your job became more important to me than mine a long time ago,” you tell him. “You have more on the line. That’s why I feel so bad.”

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with you. I’d do it all again even if I knew it’d end like this.”

“You’re not going to see me as the girl that ruined this place for you?”

“Baby,” he says with a disbelieving exhale. “Of course not. You’re the best part of this place.”

“Really?”

“One hundred and five percent,” he says with a smile, reminding you of how he’d answered the same way when you asked if he’s sure he wants to start secretly dating.

His sweetness is what makes your tears finally fall. He kisses you softly, shushing you and rubbing your back as you dig your head into his chest. You stay like that until you feel too tired to sit up any longer.

The next day, you and Zach meet at the campground office before breakfast as planned. He’s the most nervous you’ve ever seen him as he turns the handle and enters the room, greeting Ruby as she types at her laptop on a circular table.

“Can we sit for a second?” Zach asks.

“Of course,” she says. “What brings you in?”

You settle next to him at the other end of the table, realizing your knees are bouncing in anxiety. He told you he’d take the lead. You glance at his profile, glad he’s still as calm as he seemed last night.

“We, uh…” He looks at you. “We kind of broke the no dating rule. And last night, Jemma saw us holding hands. I wanted to come to you before you heard from anyone else. I’m sorry.”

“Me, too,” you say, meeting her eyes nervously. “I’m really sorry. And I completely understand if you need to let me go. But please give Zach a little grace.”

“What?” he mumbles. You hadn’t talked about doing this.

“He loves it here,” you tell your boss, the words spilling out of you. “I’m sure you know that already. I’ve never seen someone so passionate about a place. He respects and admires you and Tom so much. The way he talks about this camp and the way he enjoys the job is part of why I’ve grown to love it so much. He’ll be crushed if this ruins his reputation and if he can’t come back to work here. I know I’m in no position to ask for anything, but please spare him.”

“Hey,” Zach says to you softly. He’s so moved that if he didn’t already know he loved you, this would be the moment that sealed it. “It’s okay. I deserve to lose my job.”

“Zach,” Ruby says. You both look at her. “Sweetheart. You really think I didn’t know?”

“What?” you and Zach say in perfect unison.

“I’ve known you all your life,” she says. “I can spot when something’s up with you from a mile away.”

“Wait… what?” he says again. “How? Since when?”

“You’re not one to get mad at the kids for little things. But then we had that barbecue and you,” she says, eyes landing on you, “got hurt because some campers were rough-housing.”

You feel for the now healed burn on your forearm.

“Tom told me all about it, how uncharacteristically angry and worried you got,” Ruby tells Zach, “and then it took less than a day to confirm my suspicions. You really don’t know how obvious you are. You smile like you just won the lottery whenever she’s around.”

You feel your face go hot, butterflies swarming in your stomach. It’s the second time someone’s said Zach seems extra happy around you.

“So, you knew?” he says. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed,” she says with a shrug. “I figured you’d do a good enough job hiding it from everyone. And I’d never fire you. You’re a… what’s Malcolm call it? A nepo baby?”

“Hey,” he says with a relieved laugh.

“Kidding,” she says, eyes darting to you. “I treat all my staff equally. And we’ve never actually fired anyone for dating. We just strongly discourage it because of things like last night. It’s inappropriate if campers see any sort of PDA.”

“We were just holding hands for a second, I swear,” Zach says.

“I know,” she sighs. “But no more cutesy stuff, got it?”

“Got it,” he says. “So we’re not fired?”

“Just go to breakfast and let me enjoy my coffee,” she says with a small smile.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

As you and Zach head out, Ruby calls him back for a moment. You wait outside for him to make sure everything’s okay.

Zach closes the door behind him, expecting a verbal lashing.

“I like her for you,” Ruby says. He beams, unbelievably relieved.

“You’re really not disappointed?” he asks. He should have known his kind-hearted aunt would be so compassionate.

“Honey, I’m happy,” Ruby says. “Even you need to break rules sometimes. You must really like her if you decided to stop being a goody two-shoes for once.”

“I do,” he says confidently. “And I am not a goody two-shoes.”

“Debatable,” she teases.

When he steps out of the office, you share a sigh of relief, laughing.

“What’d she say?” you ask.

“Changed her mind. I am, in fact, fired.”

You scoff, nudging his shoulder.

“Hey, no touching allowed,” Zach laughs. “Save it for after lights out.”

“Shh,” you laugh, looking around in case anyone heard. “Have you learned nothing?”

He smirks at you.

“Thanks for saying that stuff about me back there,” he says.

“It’s all true,” you reply.

The last week of camp is the fastest of them all. Gossip spreads about you and Zach, but you just deny it whenever kids bring it up, both saying you’re just friends.

Packing up your cabin and saying goodbye at the end of the season is one of the hardest things you’ve done all summer.

Two Months Later

The triple whistle blow signals the end of the game. You’re absolutely spent, hands on your knees, so tired that you can’t even celebrate that you’d just beat an unbeatable team.

Last year, they beat you every single time, but now, you look up at the scoreboard to see your score at 3, and the visitors’ score at 2. Soon enough, your teammates pull you into a hug, the air buzzing with pride and excitement.

The hot shower you take in the locker room after the game is unbelievably rewarding.

You beam when you see Zach standing by the stadium front doors. His face lights up the moment he sees you.

“You were amazing,” he says, pulling you in for a hug and taking your heavy duffle bag for you as the crowds exiting the building surround you. “Did you hear the crowd when you nailed that one tackle in the second half? I was so proud that I told the guy beside me that you’re my girlfriend.”

You laugh, perching up on your toes to quickly kiss him.

“And what’d he say?” you ask.

“He just looked at me like this,” he says, pulling an annoyed expression. You laugh again. “Baby, you killed it. Best defense I’ve ever seen.”

“Now you’re pushing it,” you chuckle.

“I’m serious,” he says. “You’re amazing. Who’d you train with? Obviously a pro.”

“Alright,” you roll your eyes, smiling.

“I mean it. And five.”

You lace your fingers in his, grinning. The more you opened up to each other, learning about how hard it can be for Zach to express his difficult emotions, ‘and five’ became your way to assure each other you mean what you’re saying, a silly reference to how he loves to say ‘one hundred and five percent.’

‘And five’ is your way of saying you promise. That you’re sure. That there’s no reason to doubt anything.

“Wow, and five?” you say. “So, you’re not just trying to flatter me before dinner.”

Zach grins, pulling you in for a hug. You’re set to go to his house to meet his family after you get ready in your dorm.

“You’re sure you’re not too tired?” he asks.

“I don’t care how tired I am,” you say. “I can’t wait to meet them. And seeing Tom and Ruby again will be nice.”

The MacLarens’ house is warm and welcoming, just as you expected. You feel like you already know his parents and sister within minutes and when Zach’s aunt and uncle arrive, it’s comforting to see them, knowing they already like you.

Throughout dinner, Tom and Ruby tease Zach for how obviously lovestruck he was at work all summer. Even his sister joins in, calling him cheesy.

“I hope you know we’re all just joking, sweetie,” Zach’s mother says to you quietly, clearly a bit worried you’ll think they’re being too harsh on your boyfriend.

“I do,” you say kindly. In the time you’ve been together, you’ve joked with Zach that teasing seems to be his love language. It’s sweet seeing him at home, joking with his family, looking up at you every so often to make sure you’re having a good time.

After you say your goodbyes, Zach drives you to your dorm. He pulls up to your building, the back of your hand warm from where he’s been resting his palm.

Every time you’re in his car, you think about the first time you were in it back in the summer, going into town, getting to know him. You’ve been in it so many times since then, driving around and playing your favorite songs.

“Well, thank you again,” you say, relieved to have heard he knows his family loved you, just as he suspected. “I had fun.”

“You fit right in,” Zach says. He hopes it’s not too much, but the longer he’s been with you, the less scared he is of being too much.

You smile at him, proving him right. He doesn’t have to hold back.

“I was thinking something,” he says, “when I was looking at you at dinner.”

“What?”

“That I always knew that things between us didn’t go so fast because of the whole forbidden thing,” he tells you. “They’d go that fast anyway. For me, at least.”

You smile, relieved to hear it. You spent so much of the camp season wondering if the rule you were both living under was the reason things escalated the way they did.

You’ve talked about the summer, reminiscing on your memories, laughing over your favorite moments, finding it hilarious how stressed you both were about the bosses finding out about you when they already knew, but you never dove into how fast your relationship went.

“You have no idea how nice it is to hear that,” you say. “I agree. I would’ve been just as crazy about you if we met outside of work.”

“Me, too,” he says, his dimples caving into his cheeks as he gazes at you. He takes a deep breath, bringing your hand up to his mouth, kissing your palm. “I love you. And you don’t have to say it back, but I just want you to know.”

“I love you, too,” you say, feeling weightless. “Obviously.”

“Yeah?” Zach doesn’t know when his heart started pounding this hard, but it’s thudding in his ears.

“Yeah,” you say. “And five.”

He leans close and kisses you over and over, just like he did the first night on the dock.

But this time, instead of saying that you should stop and that this isn’t allowed and that you could get in trouble every time your lips part, you’re whispering that you love each other.

(the end)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[violent138]

Something maybe only I and like three Gotham Rogues will be thinking about is that Batman gets a kid, you eagerly await to hear his Bat-themed name (you know after the Batmobile, Batarang, Batsignal you think this one's Batson/Batchild/Pup if you wanna get scientific) and the name's Robin. Okay whatever, we got a bit of a rebel going against the whole Batmotif or whatever, and then comes Batgirl (back on track). Then the next one is Robin again, Robin 3.0, Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin (though this one definitely could've run with a Bat-themed name based on the outfit), Spoiler, Robin Orphan Black Bat Batgirl (most of which make sense), and then Signal.

Conclusion: kids really didn't take after Batdad much.

[storiesfromafan]

Late Night Moments - Benny x Reader

A/N: I don't think I like this that much...but I'm stilling going to post it.

I'm suffering from writters block, and my headspace isn't that great right now. But I'm trying to still write anything.

The soft tap-tap at your window finally woke you up. Half sitting up you rubbed your eyes before turning on your bedside table and looking at the time; just after midnight. Once more there was a soft tap-tap to your window.

“What the...” you sighed, before slipping from your warm, comfy bed.

Slowly shuffling toward the window, there it was again; tap-tap. Annoyed for whatever it was that was ruining your sleep, you pushed back the white curtains. Looking down from your window on the second floor, you took in the darkness of the night. Only the street lights offering small bouts of light.

Then you saw him. Even in the night you could tell it was Benny. He was standing below your window, and when your eyes adjusted more you could see small rocks scattered by your window on the roof. That’s what the noise was. Benny had been throwing rocks to get your attention. A smile grew on your lips, your stomach a flutter with butterflies. Partially excited to see Benny, but also worried if your father found him out the front of the house.

Almost a week he’d been gone, you were sad without him around. And you weren't sure when Benny would be back in town. He must have gotten back this evening, and no doubt he’d been at Grand and Division catching up with the Vandals. Which you understood. But Benny showing up this late at night meant he couldn’t wait to see you. And it warmed your heart.

You noticed Benny was doing something, your brows drew together in confusion before you recognised he was gesturing for you to come down. You looked back towards your bedroom door, a bit of a nervous habit, before turning back and putting up one finger. Which was to tell Benny to give you a minute, you closed the curtain and moved across your room to your bedroom door, until you recalled that you were in your night dress. So quickly you moved to your closet, choosing to put on a three quarter sleeved sweater, dark slacks and some flats. And before heading out you quickly brushed your hair and put it up in a ponytail. You weren’t trying to win a beauty contest. Plus you’d just been woken up. Yet you were eager to see your man.

Slowly and quietly you closed your bedroom door, before creeping down the hall to the stair case. With all your stealth you walked down the stairs, across the lounge room and opened the front door. Once outside, the door closed with minimal sound, you turned to the front yard of your house and Benny, who waited by the foot path and just out of any light.

Walking towards him you noted how his hands were in the pockets of his jacket, his gaze following your every move. All you could do was admire your boyfriend, who gave off James Dean vibes. From his rebel without a cause air, to that smouldering gaze he gives you when smoking a cigarette. Your man oozed sex appeal. Why he ever chose you was beyond you. If he was James Dean, you’d be more like Doris Day. He was a bad boy, and you the girl next door.

No wonder your parents disapprove of your relationship. And though they might voice it, they never get fully involved. They just hope you’d wake up and come to your senses. Unfortunately for them, you weren’t giving up Benny. Not now, not ever. With him you felt seen and heard, like you were more then what people see when they look at you.

Reaching Benny, he removed his hands from his pockets before you were close enough to wrap an arm around you. Holding you close, Benny steered you down the street to his motorbike. He didn’t want to alert your parents to his presence. The walk seven houses from yours, Benny whispered how much he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you. You giggled and held onto the hand, that was attached to the arm around you.

Reaching his bike, Benny stopped by it, encasing you in his arms as he leant down for a longing kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, happy to lock lips with this fine man. Pulling back you smiled brightly at Benny, who gave you one of his knee weakening smiles in return.

“You must of missed me, huh?” You asked with a giggle.

Benny pulled you close to him. “Always, baby".

Your heart sang at his words. This man always brightened your mood from just being in your space. He made you so unbelievably happy. You just couldn’t understand why your parents couldn’t get that through their thick heads. If Benny asked for you to be his forever, you’d gladly say yes.

“I know it’s late, but wanna go for a ride?” Benny asked, surprising you that he’d still want to ride around after getting back from a run with the boys.

You nodded your head. “Of course Benny, I’ll always ride with you”.

Benny shot you a brief toothy smile before untangling the two of you. Getting on his bike, Benny made quick work of starting it up before holding out his hand to you. Without hesitation you took his hand and swung your leg over. Once settled behind him you wrapped your arms around his waist. Making sure you were set, Benny soon pulled away from the curb and headed further from your house.

He rode through the streets and then the main street of town, heading out toward the open fields and scares farm houses. You held on tightly to Benny, enjoying the feel of him and his warmth. And he was enjoying it too, having the two things he cared most in this moment, you and riding his bike. Benny rode till he reached your spot, a small lake with some trees. It was a place you both discovered one afternoon on a ride. From then on its where you both go to be together.

Benny helped you off the bike and you moved to stand by the lake, while he finished parking his bike. Once done you heard him make his way to you, and then you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and his face burying in the crook of your neck. You smiled at how needy he could be sometimes, but welcomed it whole heartedly.

“You must have missed me a lot" you giggled.

Benny pulled you closer to him, holding you tighter. “Yes, baby".

Your heart sang at his reply. “I missed you terribly” you admitted. “I hate when you go on runs with the guys. But I understand it’s your thing, and you can do what you want".

Benny pulled back and placed a kiss to your temple. “I know ya do. I’m glad you don’t try to change me".

You turned around in his hold, moving your hands to wrap around his neck. “I don’t want to change you Benny, or else you wouldn’t be the bad boy I fell for".

Benny chuckled before leaning in and placing a soft kiss to your lips. “Bad boy you fell for, huh?” He whispered against your lips.

You blushed, burying your face against his shoulder in embarrassment for admitting your feelings for the Vandal. Feelings had never been discussed between you, though you both knew how you both felt for each other. In such a short time – a month – you knew you were in love with Benny. No other man had made you feel like Benny, even if you had only went on a couple dates with the other guys. Yet with Benny there had been no first date, he just claimed you in a bar full of Vandals. Letting them know you were his girl.

Benny didn’t even know you when he did this. He just walked up to your table were you and a couple of your friends were, sat down next to you and gave you that Benny charm, along with flirting. You spent most of that night talking, learning about the man beside you. You were intrigued right from the moment he sat down, and you only grew more into over that night. There was something about Benny that drew you in, and by the time you left, you were trapped in his net.

You left with your girl friends, as you got a lift from them. But Benny did try to get you to let him take you home. You were nervous to tell him it might not be a good idea, as your parents might not like him taking you home. Benny understood, but made sure you agreed to go for a ride with him the next day. You agreed, wanting to spend more time with him. From there it was history.

Benny pulled back, moving a hand to grab your chin and bringing your face into view. You looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes. But when he asked for you to look at him, you couldn’t deny him. Looking upon his face you saw a warm smile, which sparkled in his eyes. Your heart skipping a beat at the sight.

His hand holding your chin held you in place as Benny moved in to kiss you once more. It was soft and tender, taking a moment to enjoy how soft your lips are compared to his slightly chapped ones. You moved your hands to hold on to Benny’s denim vest, needing to ground yourself to something. Then he ran his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission this time. As usually Benny wouldn’t ask for it he’d just take it, but he knew this moment was different to the usual heated make out sessions.

You didn’t deny his request, opening your mouth for Benny and always would. His tongue entered your mouth, seeking out your own. His caressed your tongue slowly, causing you to softly moan. Your grip in his vest tightened, while you moved to press your lips harder to Benny’s, your tongue battling his. You wanted more from him, but Benny refused to turn up the heat of the kiss. He was setting the pace and he wanted it to be slower, but intense. Which he got, for it was frustrating you.

Soon he pulled back, which made you whine and Benny chuckled. “Patience baby".

You pouted. “When have you ever been patient, huh?” You retorted.

“That’s true” his chuckle turning into a soft laugh. “But I’m tryin' now. As I want nothin’ more than is kiss you senseless”.

“Then do that Benny" you continued to whine.

He shook his head. “Not right now, but soon, promise".

You sighed, wanting to move your face from Benny. But with his hold still on your chin, he wouldn’t let you look away from him. He wanted you to focus on him, wanting all your attention. Taking a deep breath, Benny took a moment to go over the thoughts running through his mind. Wanting to make sure he got what he wanted to say out right.

“You are really somethin’, you know that right?” He asked, looking you in the eyes. “And you mean so much to me...I’ve never felt this way about someone before".

You waited with baited breath for Benny to continue, if he would.

Benny’s hand moved from your chin, to cupping your cheek. Thumb caressing your soft, warm skin. “You’ve put a spell on me, ya know that? Because I’m crazy about ya...I love you".

You were shocked. Benny just told you he loved you. And here you thought you’d be the one confessing first. But nope, he was the one laying it out before you. Your heart felt warm and light, butterflies fluttered in your stomach. The biggest smile crossed your lips, as a noise of joy left your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck once more. Planting a quick, hard kiss to his lips, which made Benny laugh.

You pulled back till your lips were just touching. “I love you too Benny!” The excitement evident in your voice.

Benny pulled you close and kissed you once again, only hard and vigorously. Not even waiting for permission to deepen the kiss, just taking what he wanted. Which you wouldn’t have any other way. You both so happy in this moment, feeling each other’s love.

After those confessions, you and Benny took to cuddling up by one of the large trees. Enjoying the bliss of admitting your feelings. Lazily kissing and soft words spoken to each other. Gradually the darkness began to lift, the sky getting lighter, telling you that the day was coming. So reluctantly, you both headed back. The ride was just as good as before, possibly better now with your happiness.

Parking where he first did, Benny cut the engine and put down the kickstand. He then helped you off the bike, before following you. Wrapping his arm around you Benny lead you back to your house. By now the sun was rising, and you knew there was a chance your parents might be up. Did you care? No. Nothing could ruin your mood. Stopping at your neighbours house, Benny kissed you and reluctantly said goodbye.

You continued to slowly walk to the path leading to your house, stopping to look at Benny once more. Those butterflies going nuts from just looking at the gorgeous man watching you, waiting for you to get home safely. Then you turned and walked up to your front door, though it felt more like you were floating. Quietly you opened the door, slipping in and closing it just as quietly. Then you lent against the door, bright smile still on your face as you heard the faint noise of Benny's bike.

Moving from your spot and across the lounge room to the stairs, you were greeted to your mother coming down the stairs. She was surprised to see you, but then noticed you were dressed and goofy grin on your face.

“What are you doing?” She enquired.

You held onto the banister, “nothing ma. Was just out enjoying the morning". And with that you slipped past her and headed to your room.

Of course you passed your father, who gave you a confused look. When your door closed he headed to your mother, who had come back up to watch you. They shared are confused looked.

“What was that?” Your father asked.

Slowly it dawned on your mother, who didn’t know if she should be upset or happy. “Our daughter in love".

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Ok ok. I'm back from the dead, And with another headcannon! following my last music related ask

What if after the characters hear our music they start subconsciously humming, or even singing it? After all the creator never has their computer volume on... exept this time we do! And we hear venti, or Barbara, or another character singing our favorite song A LOT. So much so that instead of the usual voices it's all song references and lyrics... I imagine it going something like this:

(venti dies) "don't worry... I'm never going to let you down.."

OR

(Barbara's afk) "la- La- LA- ehem, I'm working late because I'm a singer~"

Well a long night of trying to find out if it was an event mihoyo planned or something else is surely waiting right?

- 🦇

OMG HI 🦇 ANON HRUUUU

Dwdw, Ghost Rebel's been dead as well—you have not been the only one, rest assured 🥲

For this request, I won't be really focusing much on what music the Reader listens to (entirely up to you imo), so apologies if this affects your reading experience!

(The Request 🦇 Anon Mentioned)

Ayo, They Know My MUSIC ✨😎

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Who would've thought that all that singing pays off—now, all musicians and bards of Teyvat are reciting Their Almighty Grace's ballads like they're some holy, ancient harmonies (to them, it probably is—somehow—)

Let's see what our favorite ones have been up to! :D

Venti

With the amount of times you vibed to your songs, Venti's picked them up by listening through the wind. You can 100% assume that he is vibing to it, no matter what time or moment.

People thought he was singing his own ballads when he was humming your songs, when, in fact, he's listening to you jamming out in the distance.

So imagine your shock when you hear Venti sing your song. It was as shocking as Venti without his wine.

"Hehe~ Their Grace looks so flabbergasted!" Venti in the bg just cheering over the fact he made you shocked at his impression of your song!

Bro has zero regrets for breaking the Fourth Wall.

Barbara

Girlie is singing her heart out in the Church of Favonius, and everyone's there for it. 100% she has become the true Idol of Mondstadt.

Super excited and nervous at the same time when you put her in your party team (for whatever reason, only you will know), because this is a chance to show off her practice. She wants to impress you with the song she's heard you sing and hum to countless of times!

So the moment she let it slip through her idle animation, imagine her embarrassment as you flip out, questioning your life choices and your sleep deprivation

"S-Surely, I didn't scare Their Almighty Grace all too badly...?" Barbara's twiddling her fingers, contemplating if she should've done that in the first place, only to be reassured when the other nuns of the church mention that you were screaming how good it was (Ex. "HELLO???? BARBARA???? THAT WAS SO GOOD HELLO??? VOICE ACTOR BE POPPING OFF MAYBE??? THIS GLITCH IS AWESOME!")

Yes, she's doing this again. Add her back to her team. Now. :)

Xinyan

Oh, she is going to rock'n'roll hard after this. She is definitely going to make a rock cover of your song and play it all through Liyue!

Gurl's on her merry way, practicing with her guitar and singing loud and proud! Yunjin be cheering her on in the background as she masters that small snippet of your favorite song >:D

And when it's her time to shine? When you finally give her the chance to perform? Sure, she's nervous—she's only got one shot, and who knows when the next one will come—but she's gonna rock this song with everything she's got, heart, soul, and mind!

The moment you see it happening, Xinyan's a little too into it to care of your reaction at first, pretty much having a blast at the lyrics and overall music composition.

But after? "Whoo, I sure hope Their Grace liked it...Maybe I should've taken in how they were reacting instead of going all out, hehe..." Her legs are kind of shaking from her nerves, but she swears she's fine!

Upon seeing how the citizens of Liyue Harbor are acting though, and with the amount of positive comments her friends kept giving her, Xinyan is calling her performance an absolute success!

She is definitely doing this again—10/10!

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: THIS TOOK TOO LONG TO MAKE I AM SO SORRY UGHHHH. I hate it when I say I'd be active and then the next thing I know, I'm being bombarded with irl problems >:(

Anyways! A few updates as I'm writing this: I am no longer taking Sagau Genshin requests for now (even if I might still be writing for a few—there's some waiting in my inbox that I gotta get to), as I need a break to recharge my batteries. However: HSR and Wuthering Waves are free and up for requests, so don't be shy to shoot your shots there!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[mrsnancywheeler]

the river (1) // finnick odair x f.reader

summary: the Capitol has taken you away from Finnick, the life you've been trying to build together and now he has to fight to get every part of you back

the end of a trilogy

the lakes previous chapter

next chapter

masterlist

7.2k words

warnings: angst, fluff, mental illness, suicidal ideations, self hate, young finnick and reader dynamics, a love triangle that was never a love triangle, smug finnick, it's so cheesey, pining, this is not a slow burn, implied soulmates, unedited, no use of y/n, allusions to trafficking, mentions of torture

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick’s been staring blankly at the hovercrafts’ walls for longer than he can imagine, since it had stopped waiting and left you for dead in the dilapidated arena. He knew if he reacted the way he wanted too they would sedate him and currently he needed to live with his guilt. He should've refused to let you go with Katniss, or have torn out your tracker himself. Most importantly he should never have told you about the rebel plan, of course he only revealed the basics on how you were to get Katniss out of the arena and go to District 13, but that could seriously jeopardize any semblance of sympathy the Capitol would have for you. 

He imagined you on the beach, devoting your life and love to him, and how before Snow broke or killed you, maybe even both, he'd never given you a proper wedding. All the traditions from back home, in a proper ceremony, with a dress would never happen. A large part of him didn't even feel like fighting the rebellion for you, since there was a probability that if the rebels one, you wouldn't be there on the other side to greet him. What was the point of a life if your future, the happiness, the children you could have had if all of this was behind you, if you were gone forever.

Plutarch begins to say something, but Finnick raises his hand as if to indicate he can't listen or speak right now. He's trying not to snap, not to take control of the ship so he can immediately perform his own rescue mission. Of course people were going to get hurt, even die, in the cause of the rebellion, but it was never supposed to be you. Why was he cursed to love someone who refused to patiently wait for him, who needed to be a part of the action? That's what had always been so magnetic about you though, the way you refused to fall into any constraints about how your life should be lived. Maybe, if you hadn't been left consumed by guilt after your first Games, you would've heard his plea and helped the rebellion from home, or he would've never told you about it at all to keep you safe. But that was wistful thinking, instead compassionate, worried, steadfast, beautiful you was in the grasp of the Capitol.

He decided he couldn't stay quiet any longer, he doesn't care if it's futile, what type of husband would leave his wife behind? For years you'd been fragile, like a bomb waiting to detonate, and he'd done whatever he could for you, he couldn't just give up on that now. You would have done it for him, you would have thrown yourself out of the hovercraft to save him, and knowing that hurt him and made him love you more. Finnick had spent years trying to prove to you that life was worth living even if you refused to admit that you felt that way, which in truth, caused him to grieve for the version of you from before the Games. The you that longed for a life that wasn't expected, to be lead by her heart and the wind, to be excited, until suddenly it was the you who didn't think she was worth being trusted, the you who stayed up wishing for death, and the you who wanted him, but felt guilty for it. Snow had taken that away from him, away from you, and now would take more from you. Finnick couldn't help but wonder how much was left to take, you had your compassion, your humor, your love, and if that was gone you'd be a husk of paranoia that he would desperately work to restore. Maybe death would have been kinder.

“Communications are down in seven, ten, and twelve. But eleven has control of transportation now, so there's hope of getting some food out." Plutarch says to Haymitch and Finnick can no longer be quiet.

"We have to go back.” His voice is hoarse, cracking with each syllable.

"I'm sorry, you know we can't do that. Her tracker was still in, they've definitely got her by now.” Plutarch tries to sound somewhat sympathetic, but it doesn't work.

“She's smart, she'll think of some way to pretend she knows less about the rebellion. If she can convince them of that, then she'll be used as bait.” Haymitch sounds so sure of himself, but Finnick isn't. You hadn't known too much, but not only were you willing to do anything if someone threatened him, you were like a glass sitting on the edge of the table, with one nudge you'd shatter.

Finnick starts shaking his head, “No, we have to-" Whatever plea he's started to make is interrupted as Katniss bangs through the door. 

“Done knocking yourself out, sweetheart?" Haymitch focuses on Katniss, “So it's you and your syringe against the Capitol? See, this is why no one lets you make the plans." He's chuckling slightly, but only Plutarch would also want to laugh right now. “Drop it." He's forced Katniss to get rid of the syringe and sits down by Finnick, who's been infested with thoughts about how if he hadn't let Haymitch convince him of putting Katniss and Peeta first, he could've focused on you. 

They're rambling an explanation of the rebellion to Katniss and Finnick is left once again wondering if he could hijack the ship. Snow probably wants him to, expects him too. You probably don't blame him, but Finnick knows your self-destructive ways. First, you'll try to find ways to end it all, and do nothing but mourn him, then you'll start to convince yourself maybe he left you on purpose, that you weren't stable or trustworthy enough to help with the rebellion, but you still wouldn't blame him, you'd tell yourself it's what you deserved. Finnick needed to be there to intercept the doubt before you ate yourself alive. Additionally, he didn't know how long he could last without you as an anchor, his sweet girl, refusing to acknowledge her own problems while trying to keep him afloat.

“I still don't understand why Peeta and I weren't let in on the plan." Katniss is saying, her voice just as broken as Finnick's had been.

“Because when the force field blew you'd be the first ones they'd try to capture, and, the less you knew, the better.” Haymitch explains.

"The first ones? Why?”

"For the same reason the rest of us agreed to die to keep you alive.” Finnick finally chimes in although he resents the words he's saying. He should've instead let you work your magic, try to convince someone to volunteer for him ahead of time, and stayed at home with you. If he stayed there was a higher chance you would too, yet maybe you would've gone over his head and decided you still couldn't live with yourself if you didn't volunteer.

"No, Johanna tried to kill me.” Katniss argues.

"Johanna knocked you out to take out the tracker from your arm and lead Brutus and Enobaria away from you.” Haymitch is seemingly getting exhausted and annoyed from all the explanations he owes her.

“What? I don't know what you're-"

Plutarch interrupts her, “We have to save you because you're the Mockingjay, Katniss. While you live, the revolution lives."

More words are mumbled and Finnick's head buzzes, it wasn't worth fighting the revolution if he couldn't do it with you. There was no way he could stomach it without your help, there's no way you would admit to it, but you kept him from drowning.

The way Katniss hisses at Haymitch helps Finnick zone back in, “Where is Peeta?" She's finally caught on, that her survival is without the person she loves safety.

“He was picked up by the Capitol along with Johanna, Enobaria, and-" Finnick hits the table interrupting Haymitch's train of thought. No one can be outraged at him for long though because Katniss has launched herself at Haymitch, screaming, and scratching, he's screaming back and Finnick is forced to leap into action. Katniss is only doing what he so desperately has been holding back on, how dare these people not understand that you had to be saved too. Yet he's dragging her off, back to her bed, to be tied down, sedated.

“Katniss. Katniss, I'm sorry. I wanted to save all of them, but I couldn't move." Finnick whispers, he doesn't know when he started crying, but he has. When the lighting hit the tree and Katniss' arrow had flown, the burst of electricity had left him helpless, frozen on the ground when he could hear you in the distance, screaming for him. “It's better for him, they'll figure out he doesn't know anything pretty fast. And they won't kill him if they can use him against you.

“Does she know too much or will she be used as bait, Finnick?" Katniss' voice is hazy in the mess of the sedation, but it's clear she's not very empathetic with her statement.

Finnick lets the tears take over him, weeping for you, how he couldn't save you. “I wish she were dead." He quietly admits, probably echoing something you'd agree with. "I wish they were all dead and we were too. It would be best.” Katniss is far gone, but Finnick can't stand his own thoughts any longer. He's basically begging to be sedated until they let him, he wants for it to stop the thoughts, leave him in a world where he's still with you. Even if you haunt his dreams. 

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

He knew of you, from school, from the similar social scenes, and you were well liked enough, but although he'd never admit it, Finnick Odair had never been confident enough to talk to you. Maybe it's because so many people spoke highly of you, but you'd never approached him. Shamefully he was a passive admirer, watching as you laughed at parties, nursed drunk friends, charmed customers at the markets. Maybe though he was scared that the person who everyone considered genuine would reject him as a person worth being around, see him the way he saw himself.

One sunny day in the market though he decided he had to take the step, see if were really the way people described you as, and possibly put to rest the infatuation he'd had for you. One that had really sparked when one of fair-weather friends, Beckett, had mentioned how you'd basically saved his life when he was drunk by a dock after another party. Kind, but brazen especially when Beckett tried to pay back the favor the next day by walking you home. Eventually the same night he told Finnick about you, he'd left to find you at the party and your magnetic company. You just seemed to draw people to you, a charm that Finnick couldn't resist much longer.

So there you were, flashing your tooth bearing smile to every potential customer. He'd talked to plenty of pretty girls before, but usually they introduced themselves to him, and the fact he barely existed to you certainly made you more intriguing. The moment the customer you were with was gone he forced himself up to your booth, one that was full of crates with huge crabs. 

“Most of what the Capitol serves is from here anyways, so it's certainly not a downgrade." Your sweet, peachy voice spoke first and Finnick was somewhat taken aback, unintentionally sending you a quizzical look. “The crabs." You smiled, probably wondering why he didn't pick that up the first time.

“Oh, yes, of course, the crabs." He feigned interest in one, picking it up.

“You know, if you're not here for the crabs you better say something before I start listing off facts." Finnick decided he wouldn't mind that, your voice soothed his ears, but more importantly he'd been given a piece of who you were.

“Who says I'm not here to talk about crabs?" His natural playfulness shined through any persona he was scared he would have to put on if you weren't like he'd been told about, observed. For less then a second there was a flash of what must have been embarrassment in your eyes that quickly subsided with a shrug of your shoulders.

“They're caught in the-" Finnick couldn't stop himself from laughing when you diligently started on your promised list.

“No, please, you'll bore me to death. Guilty as charged, I'm not here to talk about crabs." He put down the crab he'd been holding, hands in the air.

You leaned on the counter, hands propping up your face, “Okay then, what are you here to talk about, Mr. Odair?"

“Finnick." He said almost too quickly for his liking, “Just wanted to talk to you." It was cocky the way he said it, but he couldn't help himself when you seemed so ready to bite back.

“Flattered, Finnick." You paused, like you were waiting for him to say something, “I'm working."

“And I'm a customer."

“Are you planning on buying anything?" Your hands moved from your face to the counter top.

“Maybe." He shrugged, his usual smug smile making its appearance. 

You sighed like you were defeated, but your body language said otherwise. Maybe you'd wanted to talk to him just as much, but he'd been the one holding out on you. He'd like to think that even if it was presumptuous. “So, what does the Finnick Odair want to talk to me about?”

He didn't really know what he wanted to talk about, just that he wanted to talk to you. "The party, tomorrow night, are you coming?” It was a stupid question, you were at all of them, but much to his amusement you shrugged.

"Depends.”

"Depends on what?”

“Do you want me there?" You were bold and your aura exuded that even though if he stared deep enough into your eyes he could sense it hid other feelings.

“Are you flirting with me?" He clicked his tongue, head shaking as if it wasn't what he wanted.

“No."

“I don't believe you."

“Well it's your party, your house, I'm just asking permission." Your eyes widened, feigning innocence, and he decided you were nothing in short of perfect. Maybe he was just clouded because someone finally wasn't oooo’ing or ahhhh’ing at him. Or because he'd admired you from afar for so long that anything you said would be enough to draw him in. He also didn't really care because he'd made up his mind about liking your presence, more than that off any of his fickle friends.

“You've never asked permission before." The look on your face told him he'd caught you, that was your brain racking for a response before your face could slip back into its soft smile.

“You've never talked to me before." Maybe your words were even, but the way you fiddled with your necklace spoke measures to him.

“So you just show up at the houses of men you've never talked too?" Finnick teased, but he knew you'd always had plenty of invites from other people unlike the crazy fans who'd try to push their way into his home. Regardless, the parties were a way for him to keep up Capitol appearances and drown out his sorrows, so extra guests with actual connections to his social group hardly bothered him.

“If you wanted to talk to tell me it feels like I'm intruding, then you can just come out and say it. I get it and I won't go." You maintained a somewhat playful sound, but were so genuine it shocked him. So willing to give up your entire social scene if it made him slightly uncomfortable.

“No, I do want you there." He felt like he said it much too quickly, but he didn't regret it when your smile widened.

“Okay." You bit your bottom lip when another presence was ducking into the booth beside you. The local healer who whispered something to you. “You know you can have as many as you want for it, we can't thank you enough." You said earnestly. He handed you a couple of bottles of some type of medicine that you shoved into a netted bag before grabbing him a smaller box.

“Four or five?" The man said quietly and you filled the box with crabs before handing it to him. “Thank you, now you tell your mom I wished her the best and let me know how she's doing."

“Will do." You smiled as the man scurried off. “Sorry about that." Your attention was back on Finnick.

“Is your mom not well?" It was an obvious question but he wanted to show he cared, you just waved your hand in dismissal.

“She's okay, don't worry about it." So he respected the fact you didn't feel like opening up about it and moved onto playful banter again. “If you want me there and already knew I'd be there, why are you talking to me now?" You led the conversation back and it was obvious to him that it was a sore subject, perhaps you were one of those people who didn't like to trouble others with their problems. 

“I can't talk to a pretty girl?” 

"You talk to pretty girls all the time, Finnick Odair, and you've never talked to me before.” Your hands settled back up to support your face. 

He leaned in closer, “Don't tell anyone, but maybe I needed to hype myself up before I talked to the prettiest one." Your laugh was addictive and he wished he could've seen more of how your face scrunched up when you buried it in your hands. 

“God, you're treacherous." One of your hands decided to nervously play with an earring and the other went back to the necklace. “I bet that's what you tell all the pretty girls." Finnick's ears were blessed with another nervous laugh.

“Just you." He winked, grateful that he'd found an easy rhythm in talking to you. You were teasable, but would bite back, for the first time in a while he was glad he trusted his observations.

“You know flirting with the girl at the market to get free food only works for people not famous all across Panem."

“Good thing that's not why I'm flirting with the girl at the market then." 

Your face was once again buried in your hands with a giggle, "You're dreadful. Is this how you usually entrap a girl, don't speak to her, and then it's all sweet talk?” 

Finnick wished he could say it's because seeing you around gave him unexplainable butterflies deep within his stomach, but that wasn't a very suave explanation. “I had to make sure you didn't have a boyfriend first.” His voice was low and he could tell it was giving you goosebumps, or maybe you were just cold in your sundress.

"Oh, you're bold." You guffawed, “Besides you already have a hole in your story, there isn't a single person anyone would think I'm dating.”

"That's a bold-faced lie, sweet girl, most people think you do since he's always trailing around like a lost puppy.” If he was lucky you would melt at the pet name and you somewhat did before you scoffed.

"Who?" You didn't seem like the oblivious type, but so earnestly confused.

Finnick's eyes dragged over to a nearby booth where the subject stood, sulking and your eyes followed, “Looks like he might attack."

“Conway?" You shook your head so earnestly it made Finnick feel like he could blush from how ardently you wanted him to know you weren't taken. “No, no, no, no! God, no, he's just my friend. We're friends.”

"Have you told him that?” He smirked.

You were so cute, when you were biting back, when you were nervous, when you were embarrassed, he didn't know how a person could manage to be so adorable all the time. “Yes, he knows that, he's just, well he's just Conway. It's just a phase, he'll grow out of it." You rubbed your neck as a much more forced laugh escaped those perfect lips.

“Hopefully, looks like he's coming over to rip my throat out. Please come to my funeral, front row, no roses on the coffin, lilies preferably." Finnick pulled a faux terrified face as he clasped his hands together with his plea, successfully turning your laugh into a much more genuine one.

“Hi, Princess." Conway approached the booth and Finnick wondered how you could ever think he was getting over you. Behind the brunette's back he shot you a look, teasing you for as much which you seemed to instantly understand as you bit your lip with a shrug.

"Hey, Conway. You guys finished up?" You asked, that dazzling smile on your face.

“Yeah, mom was wondering if you wanted to come over for dinner tonight? Nixie and Delta had something they were excited to show you.” 

“Yes of course! Tell them I have something for them too, and I'll meet you guys after I've dropped everything off at home."

“I'll walk you."

“I'm gonna walk her home." Finnick seized the opportunity, even if you said you were just friends he couldn't let himself lose the build up he was working for. Conway looked at him like he'd forgotten he was there and was angered to have remembered. “If you want me to, do you want me to?" Finnick looked back at you and you genuinely had a look of complete confusion.

"I always walk you home.” Conway said softly and Finnick wished he felt worse for interfering with another person's love, but he couldn't help that he felt a spark just by looking at you and fireworks in your presence.

"You wanna walk me home?” Your eyes were glued on Finnick, like you thought he'd just been bored and was going to leave after finding his enjoyment in flirting with you. He wanted to get inside your head, see why you were so vulnerable, prove to you that you deserved to feel better about yourself.

"Of course I do, sweet girl.” His voice was less focused on being charming and so earnest it rewarded him with the happiest, biggest smile he'd gotten out of you.

“I'll walk you home after dinner though, that way you're not walking home alone in the dark." Conway inserted himself once again and after a pause you shook yourself out of whatever haze you were in to turn to him.

“Thank you so much, you're so kind, Conway. Either way I still have to wait until everything closes or I sell out, so it could be a while."

“Oh, mom sent me over to buy the last half crate for dinner tomorrow,we've got some extra wiggle room, and we're all tired of trout and crawfish all the time. So a little something special until I'm sure we'll all get tired of the leftovers. Do you want to come tomorrow too?" He pulled out the money from his pocket to slip into your hand.

“Lucky you, I hope you all enjoy it!" You took the money to put into the small metal box where you must have been storing the cash. “I've got plans tomorrow or else I definitely would." You picked up a box to move the crabs into.

“Is there a party? You should've told me, mom won't want me to miss tomorrow and you'll have no one with you."

“Conway, as much as I appreciate the sentiment, I don't need to be watched over. I'm perfectly capable of myself." You handed him the crate, “Besides you hate going to them and I don't want to drag you to one just for you to mope in the corner."

“And I'll be there anyways." Finnick raised his hand as if to remind everyone he was still there and you did seem to soften when you looked at him.

“Yeah, Finnick, will be there. I'll be fine!" 

Conway took a step closer to you as he filled his box, trying to whisper, but it wasn't hard for Finnick to eavesdrop. "You barely know him.” 

You glared back at Conway and mouthed a ‘Stop it!" The much taller man seemed to reluctantly relent as he stepped away. “I just have to close everything up then, and I'll be ready to go." You look back at Finnick who nods and smiles.

“Let me help you."

“Oh no, you don't have to do that!" You quickly assure.

"Angel, I want to.” You seem to respond well to that pet name as well whereas Conway is instantly glaring into Finnick's head. He doesn't mean to be cocky, but Finnick can't resist a cocky shrug to the other man the moment you're going to retrieve your bag and the little metal container of money to shove into it. Finnick’s nimble fingers are quickly undoing the ropes holding the top up.

You exit the structure and walk up to him, “How'd you do that so fast, the knots always take me forever to undo."

Finnick can't hide his amusement with your awe,"Always been good with knots, I could show you sometime.” 

You're nodding in agreement when suddenly your mouth is agape and you're playfully shoving him, “Finnick Odair, I hardly know you!"

“That's not what I meant, honestly!" He defends, laughing, and he's being truthful. It hadn't crossed his mind when he said it, he would love to show you how to tie a rope, he'd always found it calming. “Says a lot that your mind jumped to that though." He tilts his head and the way your eyes widen makes him wish he could feel how hot your face must be by now. 

“You do barely know him." Conway mutters and Finnick wishes he would disappear.

You seem to regain your composure and point to the left, “I'm about 30 minutes that way, so you really don't have to walk me home if you don't want to, it's long."

“Stop worrying about me, I'm certain I want to walk you home."

You're nodding softly and biting your bottom lip, "Okay.” Swiftly you're leading the way, both men trailing behind and Finnick is annoyed that Conway is still sticking around, before he realizes his family's booth is in that direction. Suddenly you're stopping before basically leaping towards a booth, a fruit booth Finnick recognizes. “Douglas, you have peaches! Why didn't you say anything?"

The older man chuckles and gives you a knowing look, “Because you can't afford them and will barter me for them."

You gasp in mock offense, “So rude and after all this time too, Mrs. Damaris would be astounded by your behavior.” 

"You know if you sneak me a couple of crabs tomorrow I'd give you a whole bag.” 

"Your father would be angry-” Conway begins some sort of lecture when you're snapping at him like you'd also like to be rid of his presence.

"I know, Conway.” The look you shoot at him could kill, and Finnick feels a weird sense of elation knowing you're more peeved that Conway won't let you be alone with Finnick. 

“Then I'm sorry, sweetheart, nothing's going to work on me this time. I've prepared myself."

Finnick is already pulling out his money, “It's okay, I've got it."

“No." Your resistance shocks him, he's used to people begging to be around his wealth and to charm you he's more than willing to she'll it out. “You're not buying things for me, Finnick. I'm serious." He says nothing, but doesn't return his money back to his pocket. 

“Come on, princess, you'll live without one." Conway manages to still sound so kind and you purse your lips, refusing to satisfy the man you feel pestered by with a response. Finnick is busy trying to silently communicate with the vendor that whatever you try to barter he'll give him the money right after.

“My ring?" You hold up your hand, waving the finger around and the older man shakes his head.

“I can't accept every piece of jewelry you find on the beach."

You sigh dramatically and Finnick thinks he's finally been able to indicate to the vendor. “Mrs. Damaris would love this necklace, look it's got an actual ruby in it and I didn't find it. Someone gave it to me, it's worth a lot more than a peach and I only want one.” The man reluctantly exhales, glasses at the end of his nose, “Please Douglas, we barely ever get them here.” Your pout has to make you even more adorable and Finnick wonders how you can be so perfect.

“Fine!" The man grumbles with a sly smile and Finnick can tell the man would've taken the necklace even without the money he was about to give.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!" You gush as your fingers rush, struggling as you unclasp the necklace. Putting the necklace on the counter as the man hums. You take your time picking out the perfect peach before grabbing one, “I love you so much, Douglas, Mrs. Damaris is a lucky woman!" You began to walk off.

Douglas nods, “Sure she is, take care of yourself and bring some actual money next time." The moment your back is turned Finnick is putting the money on the table, with a little extra.

“Thank you." He mouths with a smile, grabbing the necklace.

“No, thank you. I've got no use for the necklace, or anything else she's given." The old man is shaking his head with a smile, grabbing the money. “You take care."

Finnick nods, catching up to you where he can hear another tense conversation between you and Conway. “God Conway, it doesn't matter. Tallulah gets me a gift every time I take care of her during a hangover because she feels bad, it doesn't matter. Yes it was pretty and I really liked it, but I'll tell her it fell off in the ocean and she'll buy me a new one.”

"You're just so careless sometimes, it's a fruit.” Conway shakes his head in disbelief.

"And it's just a necklace, what's your problem? It's not even from you, and it's not a big deal. I liked it, I'll probably miss it, but I might not have a peach for another year and Tallulah will have given me another gift by the end of the week for the hangover she'll definitely have from tomorrow night.”

"She's not a bank for you, and that trade was so uneven.”

"Why are you trying to make me feel guilty? That's not how I see her, I've been her friend for years and it's just how we work! You're being so weird about this and it's none of your business. I don't take her money, or ask for it, or let her pay for things, she just gives me them when I help her out!” Finnick finds himself being enraged at Conway for the way your voice shakes as you defend yourself, for the way he's making you seem selfish when you adamantly refused to let Finnick buy you something as small as a piece of fruit.

Finnick is suddenly standing beside you holding up the little heart necklace, it swinging in front of your face. You stop dead in your tracks, “Finnick." Your voice is so soft it makes him want to melt, "You don't even know me, Finnick. I don't need you to buy things for me, you don't have to do that. I traded it for a reason, go give it back.”

"He's much happier with the money, anyways, sweet girl. I have enough money to drown in, you're hardly breaking the bank with a peach. And I know you enough to want to do that for you. Can't a man buy things for a pretty girl?” You look like you might cry, but you don't allow yourself too and Finnick comes to the conclusion that you're not used to being helped, to have someone willing to just do things for you without some sort of transaction involved, and he's intent on changing that. "Red looks good on you, angel, let me put it back on you.” You're playing with your earrings as you finally slowly turn to let him clasp the necklace on. He adored the way you shiver when his fingers brush against your neck as he puts it on and the way you seem to miss his touch the moment it's gone. It's like fate designed the two of you to meet each other, to be perfect for one another and he's only just forced himself to talk to you.

He also gets a sick pleasure from how vexed it makes the other man vying for your affections. Within a few more steps you've arrived at the Delmare family booth and they're ecstatic to see you before they've calmed down. “I'll see you tonight?" Conway asks.

“Yes, of course." You offer a smile even though Finnick can tell you're still seething underneath and Conway nods somewhat sadly. You turn you back to him as keep walking, “So are you-"

“Yes, I'm sure I want to walk you home!" Finnick interrupts with a laugh and you accept the answer and finally begin to eat your peach.  “Let me take your bag." He offers, hand reaching for it.

"It's okay I've got it.” You must have decided you're able to slip back into your normal playful tone, and he curses Conway in his mind for making you anxious enough to ever stop in the first place, “I know you must be used to women throwing themselves at your feet, but we are in fact strong enough to carry our own bags."

“You have an indent in your shoulder from it." He remarks, with what he's sure must be an infuriatingly smug smirk. You don't look at him as you seem to reason in your head that it is quite heavy and slowly pry it off your shoulder. He's grabbing it from your hand before you're even reaching out and although it's nothing for him, he's surprised by the weight. “Good thing I want to carry your bag even if you're a woman throwing yourself at my feet." He clicks his tongue as the two of you stroll down the cobblestone street.

You elbow him softly, “I'd say you're throwing yourself at mine." 

“I'd agree and say I'm glad I am." 

“Finnick." Your voice is suddenly much more serious.

“Yes, angel?"

“Seriously, why are you talking to me?" He assumes you must be trying to protect yourself and it hurts him to think you'd ever imagine that his intentions were anything less than true. 

“Because I like you."

You laugh so delicately it could be carried into the breeze, “No you don't! We've never talked before, I mean you don't really know me at all."

“So you don't like me?" He teases, a glimmer in his eyes.

“No, I do, I mean, I just, that's different." You stutter through it, hands moving as you speak.

“How's it different?"

“Because you're you, you're Finnick Odair, everyone likes you and if they don't they're stupid. And I'm just, I mean I'm just some girl, who you've been trying to fluster."

“People talk about you too, I see you around, listen to you, what you say, what people say about you, and I've decided that I like you. And I think that if you didn't want to be flustered, you'd tell me. That's it, that's the explanation, and I'm talking to you so I can really know you.”

There's a silence where you must be deciding if you're satisfied with his answer, "What do you want to know about me?” The walk to your house seems to go by too fast with the stories and banter, the way you sass him back and then get ruffled when he makes flirty remarks before you make them back, and the way you savor each bite of that peach like you'll never have one again, which he'll make sure you will. He's already mourning your company when you're walking up to the door, “This is me, I know, it's not much to look at." It's a dilapidated little house, cracked, white brick and he can tell it used to be nice. You're slowly walking up to the door and he hopes you feel the same way he does.

"Go out with me tomorrow.” Finnick says abruptly.

"What?” You turn to him, trying to not act as giddy as he can tell you are.

"Tomorrow, just you and me, an actual date. It's a Sunday, so the market will be closed. We can picnic by the water, there's a lovely, private piece of beach in Victor's Village and we'll swim, we can do whatever else you want too.” He tries to sound nonchalant as he runs his hands through his hair.

"Okay.” You nodded, fingers running up and down the chain on your necklace. "Yes, I'd like that.”

"Okay, good, that's good.” He doesn't mean to seem desperate for your time, but he is. “I can be here at noon? I'll walk you." 

“Yeah." You muttered, by now you're both standing at your front door. Staring at him and he prays you'll never go inside and just stand here with him. “My bag."

“Sorry, yes, your bag!" He pulls it off his shoulder and feels more embarrassed than he ought to be, “Sorry!" But you just laugh it off as he hands it to you. 

"It's okay.” You're back is to the door, slowly pushing the handle. He wants to kiss you, but he's already moving so fast with everything else, he figures that he better let you have something to wait for even if it's disappointing to you know, it disappoints him too.

"I'll see you tomorrow, at 12.” He reiterates, feeling like a magnet being pushed away from his other half as he steps away, ready to fly back forward.

You do look somewhat let down as he moves away, but he has to be resilient,"Thank you, Finnick! Have a good night.”

"Have a good night, sweet girl!” He flashes his Panem adored smile and forces himself to turn his back towards you. Finnick decides he's glad he listened to the caverns of his soul when they called him to you. He can't help himself from being so forward with you when he's already so sure, like he's been with no one before, that you must be meant to be and he's running back to the marketplace praying that Douglas hadn't yet closed down shop.

             𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Doctors occasionally hover above him and the ceiling is white, which is all he knows when he's in his sedated state. Sometimes they let him be without, but he can't process their questions, not when he's thinking of you which sometimes leads him back to being sedated when he starts lashing out at the nurses and doctors. Screaming, insisting you need to be saved. He's not sure when he asked, but at some point they give him a piece of rope which he diligently ties knots in to calm himself. It always seemed to work until he thought about how hard he tried to help you master different knots, but your hands would fumble. At some point he'd become sure that you did it on purpose so that his fingers would be by yours and his back pressed up against you, but he didn't care, it was heartwarming. Then he would fly into a fit again.

The same thing had happened when they'd brought him some type of dry oatmeal usually with a mix of berries that made it barely tolerable, once he could've sworn he caught a whiff of peaches in it that had him desperately trying to inhale the scent. Sobbing over the bowl until his nose was so stuffed he could no longer smell it, smell you and the sobbing became too uncontrollable. The doctors couldn't calm him down and he was once again sedated.

For weeks that's all his life was. Haunted by you, what could be happening to you, all the things he missed about you and trying to stay calm enough that he wasn't being restrained or returned to a cloudy state. Although the sedation sometimes brought back good memories he could dissociate into, other times all he could picture were all the things the Capitol, that Snow could be doing to you.

What if you were still being sold off like some kind of doll on top of what you were having to endure. And you'd have no one to comfort you at the end of the day which would drive you to insanity. Or he could picture you hypothermic on the floor. Or being taunted with jabberjays screaming in his voice. Or it could be a violent torture. He could picture thousands of unpleasant things that made him wish the rope was long enough to be a noose.

Sometimes he'd picture the last time he saw you, begging with him to not be upset when you parted ways with Katniss' insistence. Each time he thought about it he'd come to a different conclusion. Most of the time he blamed himself for letting you go, for not fighting harder to stay together or not tearing out your tracker right before you left even if it alerted someone of the plan. Sometimes he'd blame Katniss for forcing your hand in the first place, why couldn't she have just followed the plan that had been so carefully structured out. And on a rare occasion he blamed you for trying to follow the objective of keeping Katniss safe and leaving him, for not remembering to take out the tracker, for not keeping your promise. Which would then make him sick with himself for thinking anything slightly negative about your actions when you were probably enduring unbearable lengths of pain for him, for the rebellion. 

On the lucky occasion where he wasn't heavily sedated he'd been anxiously tying small knots into the rope when the television began playing some mandated report from the Capitol and there was Peeta. Proclaiming how he and Katniss knew nothing about the rebel plan, that Katniss had coincidentally shot her arrow into the dome when the lighting struck, and how there needed to be a ceasefire. Finnick wished he hadn't told you about the rebel plan, that you would just be bait, not someone trying to hide that they had some semblance of information regarding the rebel plan to get out of the arena. He'd signed your death warrant and delivered it straight into the Capitol's cold hands.

Finnick got swept up in his thoughts of what he could've done differently, how much he despised himself for not doing so when suddenly it was your voice on that television screen.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

so exited to start the river with you guys and to explore reader and finnick's past more. thank you all so much for the endless support and for continuing to read my little series, ily all. as always reblogs, comments, and likes are super appreciated, and my ask box plus request are open even if they take a hot second more me to get through. again endless thanks to you all and love you 💋

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[askthestans]

Hey Stan, can you tell us stories about your brother Sherman being a total square?

Stan and Ford: At the same time. You mean Square-mie?

Both of them laugh, not in a harsh way, but the kind of lighthearted chuckles that usually come from one sibling teasing another. It's obvious they love their older brother, but... like most siblings, they'll always jump on a chance to make fun of one another.

Stan: Oh, he always hated that nickname! Look, Anon, lemme first introduce ya to the official scale of Pines fun-ness. At the top, there's me, for obvious reasons. Second best is Mabel, also for obvious reasons. And... He pauses, putting his hand to his chin. Damn, I gotta say, I think Ford's next-

Ford: I am as much of an adventurer as I am a scientist.

Stan: Yeah, definitely Ford, despite his dorkiness and obsession with... He gestures at Ford's honors and trophies for grades and intelligence related successes from childhood. That garbage. Good grades and other crap. And then-

Ford: Definitely our nephew, Dipper and Mabel's father. Works in IT, very smart, has a little bit more of Mabel's fun-loving nature. But far less adventurous than you or I. You and I could never live a boring suburban life like he does.

Stan: Grinning. Then, near the very bottom, you've got Dipper. No offense to the kid, but he's Ford's smarts but minus Ford's rebel streak. Walkin' wet blanket at times, always askin' how many laws we're breakin' while we're out havin' fun... although me and Ford are teachin' 'im to grow past it, as much as his parents will let us corrupt 'im. But he at least likes to have fun, I'll give 'im that. So that leaves us at-

Ford: Way at the very bottom of the Pines fun-ness scale, you have... Square-mie. He coughs. Shermie, sorry.

Both men howl with snorts and laughter again, barely able to explain why.

Stan: Wiping a tear from his eye, wheezing a bit. Okay, okay, Anon, picture this: take Dipper and his dad's wet blanket crap and crank it up to 1000. This guy? Our brother? Good ol' Saint Sherm? Guy's never even had a parking ticket his entire life! He won't even jaywalk! He never goes even one mile per hour above the speed limit! He's like the human equivalent of white bread. Of unflavored oatmeal. Got average grades, got a boring old suburban house with a literal white picket fence, had an average job-

Ford: Shudders. I have no idea how he worked as an IRS accountant for decades.

Stan: Ugh, don't remind me. He's always barkin' at me. "Stan, you pay your taxes yet this year?" this. "Stan, you need to contribute to your civic duty.", that. Cripes, ol' Sherm is like the anti-Pines. A Pines is supposed to laugh in the face of rules and authority. This guy huffs whatever authority's smokin' like he's part of a cult. Even when we were kids, he'd always do chores even when he wasn't asked. Kept his room clean as a whistle. Barked at me to do my homework and foiled our pranks when he could. Pure goody two shoes, so much he'd make an angel blush. I think all of our Ma's rebellion genes went to us, and Pa's strictness went to Sherm.

Ford: Yes, so after I returned and we explained to him what had happened, he...

Both men fall into a snicker fest again, unsure who will stop laughing first long enough to tell the story.

Stan: Holy mackerel, he... he... Snort. Picture Dipper at, like, seventy years old, but with an even bigger stick up his ass and even less muscles somehow. Gets told this long, convoluted as hell tale about me fakin' my death and pretendin' to be Ford for three decades, Ford gettin' lost in sci-fi sideburn land for just as long, the world almost ending with Sherm's grandkids along for the ride... just mind bendin' stuff... and the first words outta his mouth... and for reference, this guy never swears, and he never has thrown a punch at anyone... he's so square he's a cube! But he just says...

He wheezes, so Ford has to finish the story.

Ford: Snort. He raises his voice a bit, likely to mimic Shermie's. "I just knew I shoulda kicked your asses more when we were kids."

The two howl and cackle with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Stan: And then he just... walked away, out his door, down the street to the gas station, bought beer for the - and I'm not kidding - the first time in his life, and sat back down in his old man chair and faced us as we just stood there, gobsmacked, while he cracked one open and drank it with an expression like a man betrayed. And he said-

Ford: "You two knuckleheads are lucky I'm even older than you, 'cause if I wasn't, I'd plant my loafer up your ass! You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let me drink this crap while I process whatever the f*ck I just heard and how many goddamn taxes you owe. And then maybe I'll think about huggin' your sorry asses."

More laughing.

Stan: I'm not sure if he was more mad about the taxes, or the fact that I'd faked my death all those years ago, or... the world ending part where Dipper and Mabes coulda been hurt... or maybe because we drove him to drink and swear and threaten someone for the first time in his whole goddamn life, all in the same day, he... Chuckles. He never really said. All I know is, is I don't think I've ever had my jaw that close to the floor in my life.

Ford: Honestly, I think we just kind of... broke him. Even still, I think he blew our minds more than we blew his.

Stan: He laughs a bit more, then shakes his head. Pfft, can you imagine Sherm kickin' our asses, anyway? He'd probably gently nudge one of our shins and give up. He's too nice for anything worse. That's the thing with our brother: he may be boring as sin, but... he's a good guy.

Ford: He always protected us from bullies when we were kids. Carried us home whenever we sprained an ankle or broke a bone.

Stan: And bought us ice cream whenever we asked, and fixed our bikes, and patched us up, scared the "monsters" outta our closet, and taught us most of what we know. Kind of like a second Dad, honestly, and one a lot less grumpy. A bit more somber. And he helped our parents out in their old age when we weren't around, until the... well, you know. 'Til the end.

Ford: His smile fades, then he sighs, expression a bit bittersweet. And he did actually hug us.

Stan: He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed, but smiling fondly. For three hours straight.

[johns-prince]

if you don’t mind, what are some of your favorite soft mclennon moments?

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight. [x]

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney - 1982 [x]

“And John and Paul thought back to the time they’d been in Paris before. Flat-broke, unable to afford a taxi, without funds for a decent meal. ‘Maybe we’ll buy the Eiffel Tower this time’, said John with a grin.”

“The Beatles in Paris.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 8 (March 1964). [x]

““Okay, okay,” I said, “don’t go on, John.” I felt a surge of embarrassment because my instrument was the cause of such hilarity. “Look guys, that’s enough. What have you two been doing while we’ve been struggling to get here? I hope you’ve done some practising and got the song list sorted out?” I was getting more and more annoyed as this episode was dragging on. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Len. Paul and I have got it all sorted out. Haven’t we Paul? Paul! Paul! I said haven’t we Paul?” Paul McCartney looked up with a wry smile and paused. “Tonight will run just like clockwork. I am going to give the audience the best rendition of ‘Guitar Boogie’ they have ever heard this side of Garston.” “Hey, this is a new twist,” I said. “Paul just cracked a joke. He must have a sense of humour after all, John, shall we have him in the group?” John was enjoying the banter as ever. “Yeah, we’ll give him another try and if you don’t get it right this time, Jimmy,” Jimmy (James) was Paul’s first name, “then…” John waited to see the expression on Paul’s face. “Then we’ll,” again a pause, and by this time we were hanging on John’s next words, “then we’ll have to send him for some more guitar lessons!” Paul joined in the laughter and at that we were all back to normal.”

— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.” [x]

“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.” [x]

“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’” [x]

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?”  “In bed.” — Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998. [x]

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

— September 26, 1997, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle” by Steve Richards [x]

“We were recording the other night, and I just wasn’t there. Neither was Paul. We were like two robots going through the motions. We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other.”

— John Lennon, The Beatles by Hunter Davies [x]

Q: “What musician and composer do you respect most?” Paul: “No, I don’t know, really... John Lennon!” John: *mock-shy* “...Paul McCartney.” [x]

conversations with mccartney, paul du noyer [x]

“It was 8:30. I could hear people talking about the likelihood of a storm later on that evening. I can remember hoping that it would clear up before my cycle ride back to Wavertree. Up to now it had been an eventful day but very tiring and as a group, although committed to playing, we all wished that we could pack up and go home. All of us apart from John Lennon. I think that meeting Paul had whetted his appetite and by the time we went on stage for our session at 8:45 he looked refreshed and seemed to have a new sparkle, as though he had had an injection of renewed optimism and enthusiasm as he played and sang through our usual repertoire that evening. […] I went outside for some air and a smoke; John and Pete decided to come with me. We stood outside pulling on our cigarettes, enjoying the breeze that had risen with the oncoming storm. “Do you know, John,” remarked Pete as we stood outside, “I’ve never heard you sound as good as you did just then. I know you’re going to say that I’m not very musical but I could hear the difference. I can see that something’s happened to you. Even the skiffle numbers which I know you’re not that keen on sounded good. You seem to have put more effort into them.” “Pete’s right, John. I couldn’t help noticing it as well,” I said. John was silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his smoke. “I guess someone took the trouble to share what he knew with me and it’s just given me a little encouragement for the future, that’s all.” “Oh I see, you’re getting a little sentimental in your old age, aren’t you,” joked Pete, who had never seen his life-long friend in that light before. “Don’t be thick, Pete,” replied John, who seemed almost back to his normal abrupt self. “Come on, I need a drink.”” — Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

[x]

Paul's persistence and endless patience for John while he was dealing with the death of his mother Julia:

But Paul seemed to have limitless patience for John, sneaking away from his classes to drink coffee at the Jacaranda coffeehouse, or else spend the afternoon nursing pints and punching rock ‘n’ roll songs on the jukebox at Ye Cracke pub. Certainly, Paul preferred hanging out with his friend to grinding through lectures and assignments at his schoolboy’s desk at the Liverpool Institute. But the hours they spent together held an emotional significance, too. For even if they rarely spoke about the pain of losing their mothers, the mutual feelings of loss—and the rawness of John’s wound—gave them a connection that was as vital as it was unspoken. It was, Paul said later, a “special bond for us, something of ours, a special thing.” … “We could look at each other,” Paul said, “and know.”” 

…

John, however, had other things on his mind. Though the fall of 1958 and well into 1959, John was far too busy engaging in art-school life—if not exactly his studies—to think much about playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band. He had started dating another student, a quiet blonde from the relatively posh Hoylake district on the Wirral, named Cynthia Powell. She proved a warm, stabilizing influence, which helped mitigate John’s ongoing grief and rage.

He had also grown particularly close to one of the school’s most promising students, a blazingly talented painter named Stuart Sutcliffe, whose emotional portraits and densely wrought abstracts had already caught the eye of the university’s instructors, along with the gallery owners, artists and critics who orbited the bohemian section that bordered the campus. John had been drawn to Stu’s talent, too, and when his classmate invited John to move into his large, if downtrodden, flat around the corner from the college in a row of once-elegant homes on Gambier Terrace, the two art students became even closer. The flat became a hub for their college friends, a reliable address for drinking bouts and all-night parties.

 Nevertheless, Paul made certain not to be a stranger. He was a regular around Gambier Terrace, often toting his guitar to spur a little playing and singing, and if circumstance permitted, a bit of songwriting. John remained an eager music fan, and generally enthusiastic partner for playing and singing. But his disinterest in the band, prompted at least in part by his deepening friendship with Stu, frustrated Paul. 

…

John was moving on, and not in a promising direction. George, for his part, had grown sick of waiting and joined the jazz-and-skiffle centered Les Stewart Quartet, though he made it clear to Paul he’d be back with the Quarrymen whenever they resumed playing. Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in playing with anyone else. For whatever combination of emotional or visceral reasons, he couldn’t seem to imagine a musical life that didn’t include John Lennon as his primary partner.

So he persisted, dragging his guitar to Gambier Terrace, making himself a fixture amid the empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, shattered Vicks inhalers, and paint-splattered clothes.

If John didn’t evince any interest in being in a band, Paul would simply wait, guitar at the ready, until he did.

— Peter Ames Carlin, Paul McCartney: A Life [x]

[the-modern-typewriter]

Hey, I love your work so much! Would it be possible to do a "living weapon" in recovery, possibly taken to a rebel base and one of the rebels being nice to the weapon and giving them affection, but the weapon has no idea how to act?

"Hey. You need anything?"

The weapon's head snapped up, sharp gaze fixing on them. They otherwise sat perfectly still where the rebel leader had left them. Lou had watched them, on and off, for the past hour.

"I brought you some tea. If you'd like it. I always find tea soothing when I'm in new, strange places." Lou offered a small smile as he held up the drink, stepping further into the room. "What's your name?"

"Name?"

"Yeah. What do you like to be called?"

"I'm the weapon."

"You like being called that?"

The weapon's head tilted the smallest fraction. "It is what I am called. It's what I've always been called."

Lou didn't let their smile slip, despite the sorrow-horror that notched through their heart at that. Now was hardly the time to push. "Okay," they said. "Well. Tea? I wanted to check in if you need anything?"

The weapon stared at them. It was the sort of stare that stripped a person to their component parts.

Lou cleared their throat. They crossed the room to set the tea mug down on a side table. "You hungry? Thirsty? Tired? You want - I don't know. A book or something? You don't have to just sit there."

"I was told you to stay here."

"Well, yes, but..." They didn't know how to explain that the difference been stay there, okay? and an actual command that had to be 100% followed. Lou took another step closer to the weapon. "You can stay there if you want to, but you're not our prisoner. You can wander around the base, you know? Go to the bathroom or...whatever. Get some sleep."

"You should stay back."

Lou stopped. "Sorry," they said. They held their hand up. "Not trying to scare you or anything. If-"

"-You do not scare me."

"Oh. Well, that's good!"

"I am dangerous."

Lou's brow furrowed slightly, because of course they knew that. They just weren't entirely sure what the weapon meant by the words. They didn't say it like a threat.

"You are kind," the weapon said. "I do not want to hurt you."

"Oh." Heat flooded Lou's face. "Well, then you probably won't, right?"

The weapon blinked.

"I mean," Lou said, after a beat, "you can control your abilities, right?"

"...yes." The weapon still seemed a little confused. "Of course."

"So you won't hurt me."

This seemed to be a new concept, judging by the look on the weapon's face. "I...won't hurt you."

"Yeah," Lou said. "You can choose not to."

"I can choose."

"Uhuh. But, hey. Even if you do hurt me, it's not the end of the world? Accidents happen."

"I can choose," the weapon said to themselves again, quietly. "I don't have to hurt people."

"And no one here is going to make you."

"You need weapons. You are losing."

"Yeah, but that's not why we helped you."

The weapon swallowed, hard. It was the most obviously human reaction that Lou had seen from them so far. As if all of the normal reactions, all of the emotions and pleasures and weaknesses of being human were something they had been forcibly trained out of having. They probably had.

"I don't have to hurt people," the weapon said, as if that idea had never occurred to them before. As if nobody had ever told them that before. They looked down at their hands, curling them in their lap. "Thank you."

"Oh, sure. Any time!" It didn't seem like enough to offer, after everything that the weapon had been through. "And if you need - if you want - anything else, just ask. Okay?"

The weapon stared at them once more. After a long moment, they gave a small nod.

"Would you like me to stay and sit with you for a while?" Lou asked, as gently as they could. "Or would you like me to leave you alone? Either one is fine."

"Stay." It was barely audible. Hoarse.

"Cool. Do you want the tea?"

"I am...very thirsty."

Lou brought the tea over, then took a seat next to the weapon.

The weapon cradled the mug in their hands like they were afraid it would shatter. They swallowed again. Their hands shook the smallest, barely perceptible fraction.

"Careful," Lou said. "It's-" The weapon's gaze snapped to them once more. "It's hot," Lou finished. "I don't want you to get hurt. Scald your tongue."

The weapon took the most careful sip. Then they relaxed, the smallest fraction, at Lou's side. "It's nice." They hesitated, then smiled themselves. Tentative, fragile. "You're nice."

"Well, I certainly try to be," Lou said, with a weak laugh. They rubbed a hand over the back of their head. "We should all try to be."

The weapon drank their tea in silence, watching. Listening, as Lou filled the space with idle chatter about the base and the people there and their favourite kind of tea that their grandma always used to make.

The weapon quietly followed them everywhere around base after that.

[skyguys-princess]

𝐖𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

❛ ʀᴇᴄᴏɴ ❜

PAIRINGS: Vader x Rebel reader

SYNOPSIS: After a successful mission, things take an... interesting turn.

WARNINGS: Explosions, rebel activity, the Empire...

NOTES: In this AU the Mustafar duel happened but his legs weren't cut off. He still has burns around his legs and further down, not as intensively.

TIMELINE: next

「 Force 」

You stood upon the boulder, detonator in hand. Staring at the weapons manufactory, the stormtroopers filtering in and out. You felt yourself suffering from a crisis of conscience, and couldn’t for the life of you figure out why. These were people responsible for slaughtering innocent civilians, even the ones that followed the regime. They didn’t show mercy, not a sliver of it. So why were you here second guessing yourself about blowing this abomination to the ground? The mission report didn’t require you to evacuate the people inside. But you felt something tugging at your heart. Have they ever hesitated when it came to collateral damage? No…

But you weren’t them, and you didn’t want to be. You held your head up high, grabbing your datapad from your utility belt. Hacking into the Empire’s systems which was surprisingly not as difficult as you thought. ‘That’s what happens when you hire boneheads for IT.’ Shaking your head amused, despite seriousness of the current situation. You set off the evacuation, the alarms started blaring. Flashing red as the factory workers and stormtroopers alike started filling out of the building systematically. Sharing confused looks amongst each other as they made their way to the designated evacuation point. Grabbing your binoculars from your backpack you scanned the building in infrared. After making sure there were no heat signatures left inside. You pressed on the detonator, hearing the click before the building shook. Collapsing in on itself, catching light. Startling the Imperials as they took cover, shouting amongst themselves. Feeling the heat from the explosion reaching you even from your distance. You looked down at them, giving a salute. “For the rebellion,” you whispered. The words being carried in the wind, before turning on your heels. Heading back for your concealed ship. Allowing your footprints to be distorted by the wind, no trace of you left behind. At least you thought.

[ Meanwhile ]

Darth Vader is pulled from his meditation by a tug from the force. His piercing eyes snapping open, a gnawing feeling tearing through his gut. He stood up, his cape following suit. He stepped off the platform in his meditation chamber. Smoothing his hair back out of his face before grabbing his helmet that rested on its designated stand. The cold lenses staring back at him, a constant reminder of who he is now and the responsibilities that came with that. Sliding it over his head once more, hearing it click. Securing its place as the respirator flooded the inside with oxygen, he took a deep breath. Before exhaling, the sound resonating around the room. Giving an even more dramatic tone to his mere presence. He let his heavy arms fall back to his sides. The weight of his worries weighing down his toned shoulders. He took one last deep breath to centre himself, before exiting his mediation chamber. Heading for the war room, as soon as the door of his private chamber slid open. Vader was met face to face, well face to chest. With a lower level officer, sent to fetch him no doubt. To be notified about whatever had happened to cause such a disturbance in the force. The officer spoke up hesitantly, his voice trembling. “I- I’ve been sent to retrieve you, Ad- Admiral Tarkin wishes to see you in the war room.” Vader look down at the man, no older than his early twenties he estimated.

Not much younger than himself, not that he would know that. His mask was worn at all times in public, both the physical and the metaphoric one. So much so that who he was before he’d adorned it was a distant memory now, essentially another life. Without a word, Vader heads to the war room. Leaving the officer frozen in fear in his wake. The soft stomping resounded through the hallways, alerting everyone in earshot of his encroaching presence.

While Vader stalked down the halls of The Executor, his cape the colour of night. Billowing in his wake, the stormtroopers that were making their rounds quickly darted out of his way. The sounds of his respirator echoing through the halls, and ringing in his head. A ringing he’d grown used to, it’d become background noise. While there were many things he hated about the suit. In moments like this, he appreciated the anonymity. Though deep down, in a corner tucked in his mind. He knew that was only part of its purpose. The costraphobic layers, served as a reminded. A reminder of his duty to the Empire, to Sidious. And of the betrayal that led him here, the scars he’d gained in consequence had faded. But still clung to his skin, digging their way into his very soul. What was left of it at least, taunting him. Of what he’d done, who he’d hurt. Betrayed, the lives he’d taken, and those that followed-

“Lord Vader,” the voice of Admiral Tarkin greeted him. His gaze shifted, looking up from his position in the doorway. To the Admiral, his gaze flitting to the projection lit. Exposing the damage to the manufaction plant, the hologram rotating slowly. His body was on autopilot as he stepped closer, analysing the image in front of him. “As you can see, the weapons manufactory plant has been completely levelled. No personnel were lost, an evacuation alert went off prior to the explosion.”

“Who set off the evacuation?” He questioned shortly, his words eerily even.

“Unknown. The perpretrator was able to compromise our systems, initiating the evacuation before the building was destroyed.” Tarkin’s words became a blur to Vader, his mind racing. As he felt that feeling from before tugging at his gut. He continued to stare at the projection, ‘this was a suspected rebel attack. But the MO is different, why evacuate the building if it’s supposed to be a message against the Empire? Why go through the effort of evacuation?’ He thought, crossing his thick arms over his chest.

「 You 」

I watch the ramp to my ship lower, and I took a deep breath. Steadying myself as I walked up the ramp, heading for the control panel so I could get out of this shit show as soon as possible. Something was… different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, and that’s what’s worrying me.

I heard the whoosh as the ramp door closed. I start the engine, taking off slowly and steady. Keeping the noise down to a minimum, even though the factory was destroy I didn’t want to push it. After exiting the atmosphere I prepare to jump into hyperspace. I wrap my fingers around the lever, gripping it tightly-

I can’t see anything, blinking rapidly. Suddenly blinded by fluorescent lights, slowly the room comes into focus. Something rotating in front of me, when my eyes focused. It was a blueprint… to the manufacture plant I just blew up. Shivers climb up my spine as I hear a deep inhale, that sounded like a machine… or a man? “Hello little minx,” I jolt in surprise. The voice lingering in my mind.

“What the fuck…” I whisper. My eyes darting around, I’m back in my ship.

dividers: @vibeswithrenai + @chilumitos

taglist 🏷: @rabbitrabbit12321

(lmk if you want to be added or removed)

[ratcash-wasgud]

Desperately need more of that loser!Mizu content pookie,,,, 😔 have rebel!reader take her out to a party and Mizu being the most socially awkward dumbfuck

But watching reader get along so well with everyone else and dancing,,, need more girlfailure Mizu

・❥・Loser!Mizu Headcanons II・❥・

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

part 1

Heyyyy lovelies!! I got so many positive feedback over the last one I cried a whole ass river. Which I'm really happy about since I lovelovelove this concept. This turned out to be less than a headcanons post, and leans more towards a fanfic territory, but whatervs.

Nsfw, minors dni plspls.

Okay, enjoy ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Mizu was never really a party-animal, which was weird to everyone since most people in basketball team were.

She listened to Taigen's stories about the ones he's been though, but it never really got her interested.

The music is always shit at parties too. She'd rather listen to her own playlists at home...or the playlists she made you and stare at the ceiling. Such fun.

She names them corny stuff like Sighs and Whispers.

Currently though, she is listening with wide eyes and lips pushed together as Taigen tells him about this new party he's planning on going. Why is it different than the other parties he brags about? This time, he heard you'll be there too.

She freaks out.

Still, Akemi encourages her to go, and when she says "Maybe you'll be lucky and get to dance with her" is when Mizu's head explodes.

Yeah, she's going to that party.

She need something to wear though. Something cool, something that screams "I can lift 165 pounds, I'd pay on all the dates and your mom would love me".

In the end though she settles on a graphic shirt, cargo shorts and her big ass shoes. Plus her usual shades as the finishing touch. It screams "I'm afraid to touch tits and I play minecraft unironically" instead of her goal, but whatever.

She needs to threathen herself in the mirror, have about three and a half breakdowns, throw her bag against the wall and scream into a pillow before she finally gets going with Taigen and Akemi, plus Ringo as the driver.

The party is loud, the air smells like sweat, smoke and alcohol and the people here are annoying. Mizu has lost her friends like fifty minutes ago since she came back from the bathroom, and since then she has been lingering in a corner, sipping her beer awkwardly.

Why is it so damn hard to enjoy a party anyways? Better question, what is there to enjoy? The lights make her head ache, the alcohol is shitty, people keep throwing joint and cigarette buds on the floor and it's the third time the DJ's playing-

"Glow!!" She hears a familiar voice scream as the song by Snow Wife starts playing, and she finally notices you.

Her breathing stops alltogether, as she almost crushes the beer in her hand. There you are. The first thing she sees are heart shaped sunglasses covering your pretty, pretty eyes. You have a black cropped tube top on with a leather jacket covering your shoulders.

"Fuck me..." Mizu breathes out, and feels her insides tingle. She means it too. She can't tear her eyes away from you, and the way you chug your drink while dancing. There are people around you, mostly other women in revealing outfits, and one or two guys in slutty tanktops. She wants to sooo badly go over there, but her legs won't move. So instead she does the next best thing. She just watches you dance around, and move yourself to the beat. Your body bounces. Jesus, it fucking bounces. Mizu almost throws up. She agressivley chugs down the rest of her drink and heads to the bathroom.

She stands before the mirror for a couple minutes after washing her face with ice cold tap water. "Fucking pussy." She murmurs as she looks at herself in the reflecting surface. "Why can't I just talk to her?" She says, putting her palms on her face, pulling the skin down. "Why was it so fucking easy to talk to her when we first met? 'Bout fucking bugs and shit... And why is to so damn scary now? It's just her! Her and her...fuckin' tits bouncing, and her collarbones, and she's probably sweaty and..." She starts murmuring to herself, feeling the familiar feeling of arousal hit her system. She splashes her face with water again, and marches out of the bathroom.

When she returns to the main area, she doesn't see you anywhere. Fuck! Is it over? Just like that? Did you leave with someone? Ugh.

Suddenly, Akemi appears next to Mizu, and starts dragging her to somehwere. "Mizu! Come, come! I was like, literally looking around for you for the last likkke...two songs. Totally! I was like "woah, she must've gotten lost" or like something." She says, clearly under the infulence of something plus alcohol. Mizu just groans in an annoyed way as she gets dragged into a room that definetly smells like weed.

Great.

Mizu starts grumbling until she spots you. You're sitting there, on the couch, laughing with Taigen and one of his asshole friends. "Mizu!" Taigen grins when she spots her. It's his usual shiteating, smug grin. "I though you went home or something." Akemi sits down on the couch too, dragging her along.

"Shut up." Mizu rolls her eyes as she flops down, being the most grateful woman ever, since her shades hide that she is literally staring at your lips as you put a blunt between them. She then makes eyecontact with you (or she assumes, since you're both wearing sunglasses), and you offer her the blunt with a small, rapsy chuckle.

She never tried weed before...but the aftertaste of you lips are on that thing, so she takes it withouth hesitation. It burns her throat as she inhales, but she keeps a straight face in order to stay nonchalant. But it's so, so hard. She almost squirms around on the couch when your fingers brush against hers as she passes you back the blunt.

"Soooo Mizu," You send a grin her way as you sit down on the armrest, right next to her. You ass is almost touching her arm. "I've never seen you at a party before. I'm glad you're here now though." You giggle.

She desperately wants to say "I only came now because of you!" but she restrains herself. "Uhhh, by the waaay, Mizu!" Akemi starts again, excitedly bouncing next to her. "D'ya know who I saw? Mikio! He's here too." She says with a tone that is supposed to be teasing, but to Mizu it's fucking annoying.

Mikio?! Mikio. Is she fucking serious? The one ex Mizu has, and never wants to fucking see again, is here?

"Whaaa? You guys know Mikio?" You join in, leaning over the back of the couch, arching on the arm rest. "Yah." Akemi responds casually. Don't say it. Don't you fucking say it. "He's Mizu's ex." Fuck.

Mizu sees you process the information, then you let out a deep, throathy laugh. "Are you fucking serious? Haa!" Akemi joins in the giggling too. "Yep. Mizu dated him when she was like...a senior in highschool I think. They were kinda cute though~"

Mizu wants the ground to swallow her whole. Here she is, with the woman she loves and her annyoing ass high friend, talking about her ex, who basically ruined her when they dated. She didn't even like him, it was all comphet, but when he broke up with her, she turned into a beast for weeks, snapping at anyone who she saw.

"Damn. I didn't know Mizu was into guys." You say, and it makes Mizu's blood stop flowing in her veins. Shit shit shit! Do you think she's straight now? Is she losing her already non existent chance?

"Uh, no, I-" Mizu starts but Akemi cuts her off. "Oh, she was very different back then! She was all girly, look, I think I have a picture." Akemi says and digs out her phone. "Wait, n-no-" Mizu beginst to protest but gets cut off by Akemi again. "Here, look! This was at one of their cute lil' picnics under some apple tree or some shit." Akemi shoves her phone in your face, and you lift your heart shaped sunglasses to see it better.

"Holy shit..." You say, as if in shock. "Mizu, is that really you?" You say, eyes wide in surprise and your eyebrows lifted as high as they can go.

"I uh..." Mizu's cheeks burn in shame. She knows that picture. It was taken a couple days before the brutal breakup. She really was different back then. She wore her hair in a high pony, and loved off the shoulder shirts. She hated herself so much back then. She teared up a little, but she was, again, the world's most grateful woman that she decied to wear her shades.

But you weren't stupid. "Akemi, here." You tossed her your phone as you stood up, knowing the girl's first insticnt will be to start taking goofy pictures at a 90 degree angle. She loves leaving those around in other people's phones. You then look at her, and quickly slide down her shades, discovering her tears. "H-hey, give that-" Mizu starts protesting, but it was too late. You were looking into her teary eyes. Before she could react, you place your own heart shaped ones on her face, and put hers on yours. Then with that, you lift the now barely lit blunt and start walking out. "Mizu's coming with me to check on the other's." You say casually, as if to Akemi and the other's who aren't paying attention, but really, it's to her. Mizu follows you outside, and you lead her to a small balcony. The cold air hits her, making her nose turn red right away. You chuckle and inhale a hit from the blunt.

"Needed some fresh air." You murmur and hold the blunt out for her. Mizu feels her heart throb. Did you really just notice her discomfort and pull her out of there? Oh God. It's just like back then...you're acting like you guys known eachother since forever, and she loves it. She slowly takes the blunt, but just looks at it first.

You chuckle. "You don't have to." You say with a grin but Mizu just shrugs and takes a hit. "Thanks." She whispers and you shoot her a smile. Not a grin, or a smirk. A smile.

"If you don't like places like this, why are you here?" You ask. "Because it's obvious you don't. Did Akemi drag you along?" Is Mizu that transparent? Or can you just read people? Well, whatever it is, Mizu feels oddly vulnerable.

A long silence.

"I wanted to see you." She murmurs, letting the ash fall from the blunt. Your eyebrows lift up, and you cock your head to the side.

"Yeah?"

...

"Yeah." Mizu takes another hit, feeling her insides getting slowly relaxed and passes you back the blunt.

"Hm." You hum. "Why me?" You ask, your tone calm. It still has that usual raspy edge to it, but it's so...soothing. Mizu can't help but wish you'd wisper in her ear.

"I..." Mizu needs to take a deep breath. Fhuuuck it's hard to talk about feelings. "Re...remember when we met at the aquarium?"

"Yep...it was cool. Nobody listens to me ramble about bugs that much." You chuckle, trying to ease the vibes.

"I fell in love with you that day. I..I think, at least." Mizu blurts out, imidiately feeling her whole face burn up. "B-Before you say anything though, I don't expect you to like me back. I don't expect anything. I-I just wanted you to know, beca-" She starts rambling, her voice all shaky, but she suddenly gets caught off by you laughing out loud.

"Jesus, that's such a fucking cute thing to say." You say, slowly pushing her shades up your head, into your hair. "Color me wooed." You say, putting on an amused grin.

Mizu just blinks rapidly, her cheeks turning all the shades of red and crimson. Did...did that really work? How? "I...really?" She manages to croak out.

"Yup." You say, slowly stepping closer. "So what's next, hm? Now that you can expect stuff?"

Mizu can feel her insides shaking. Oh my God. You...you are flirting with her. You. The one who had her in a chokehold for months, the one who was the only one who Mizu could think about while touching herself, the one, single coolest woman ever...

"C-Can I...uh...kiss you?" Mizu asks carefully, and you, instead of an answer, slowly wrap her arms around her slender neck, pulling her down to your level, making her bend over.

"Guess." Fuck. You're so goddamn hot. Mizu decides to don't give a shit about her nerves, and just kisses you. It's an urgent, sloppy and akward kiss, with your teeth clanking sometimes, and she feeling out of rhythm. But it's okay. You still enjoy it. Why? Because she's so cute. Endearing even. The way her lips cling to you, as if you're her salvation, the way her hands depserately grasp at your hips...you feel like getting lost in it. Slowly, she pushed you down, hiding the both of you behind the railing.

"L-Let me...please let me..." Mizu muttered in a breahty, depserate whisper, her long fingers slowly curling around your right breast. Oh, it was so soft, You put a hand on her cheek, caressing it with a smile, and her eyes shined with the now given green light. She yanked down your tupe top, revealing your strapless bra which she got rid of too.

She got mesmerized by the sight of your bare boobs, perky nipples staning proud, as she ran her finger's along it's curve. She imagined them so many times, but they're somehow so much better in reality. Her lips latched around one of the nipples, almost moaning at the feeling of the hard bud agaist her tongue. She started swirling her tongue around it like her life depended on it. Her head was reeling, taking a pause to take your sunglasses off her face, and putting it on the gorund, then getting right back to work. Your soft little sighs, the way your fingers toyed with the loose strands of hair falling out from her bun...it made her soaked already.

"Hah...that's a good girl." You murmur and Mizu can physically feel her slick drip out of her. She can't take it anymore. She let's her hands grip your belt, and they start to unbuckle it.

When she finally manages to slide down your pants, she's met with...cute little panties. Such a contrast to your outfit, but she loves it. She's the only one who knows what kind of panties you're wearing tonight. She starts sliding her fingers up and down your folds through the clotch, as if teasing you, but in reality, Mizu's teasing herself. She can feel the material get more and more wet the more she rubs it. You're body is responding to her...it's aware she's there, and it's aware that she's trying to turn you on.

She lifts her head, fingers hooking the band of your panties. "Please...c-can I just...you know..." Mizu murmurs, but you stop her, putting a hand on her wrist.

"Say it clearly, and I'll let you." You say, her voice low and raspy. It makes Mizu's clit throb. "Otherwise no."

She gulps and licks drool from her lips. "Can I...please, just...taste you? To...eat you out." She croacks out, not even believeing she said that to you, but you just give her a smile in return. You slowly push her down, so that she's laying on the floor, her back hitting the tiles of the balcony. You straddle her chest, and Mizu watches with wide eyes and a baited breath as you slide your panties to the side, revealing your folds and their...their beautiful color, scent and let your slick drip down to her neck.

"Here you go...all for you." You whisper as you lower yourself onto her lips. Her lips lock on your flesh, her hands wrapping around thighs depserately. She quietly moans into your heat, having the time of her life. Oh, you taste so good...and she can feel your juices drip down her throat. The way you keep slowly grinding into her makes her hips buck againts nothing. You notice that though, and lean back onto your hands, and put one of them on her crotch.

You're touching her. You're actually touching her. Mizu feels like she could cum just from this. She keeps lapping at you like a starved woman, legs spreading as if on command as you hand snakes inside her pants. She starts whimpering into your entrance, her tongue pushing inside as you play directly with her clit. It throbs for you, and only for you as your soft fingers circle around, and on it.

"tastes 'sgoood...please fuck me...fuck 'm, please." Mizu keeps mumbling and whimpering against your pussy, pushing her whole face into it, as she pulls you lower, as if she wants to burry and hide in it. You grin, as you slip one gentle finger inside her. You're actually inside her. Fuck, the love of her life is inside her, as her juices drip down her throat, deep into her system.

"Yeah, mhm...good girl." You say breathlessly, slowly pumping two fingers inside her, as you approach her climax. Even if she never done this before, she's very good at eating pussy it seems. You move your fingers faster, curling your fingers, and as Mizu's moans get louder, you push harder against her, muffling her, since there are people on the other side of the door. "Sh...ssh, come on...cum for me." You say, as you feel yourself tipping over the edge.

You don't have to ask twice though, because just from the way you whisper to her, orgasm crashes over Mizu's whole nervous system. She squirms under you, until you slowly pull your finegr out of her.

After going back to the rest of the group, Mizu needs to pretend like she didn't just fuck the girl of her dreams, since that would've made it akward. So she sits down on the couch once again, and keeps quiet, watching you interact with the people around, like you're some magical creature, mesmerizing her.

After Ringo calls her up, tellig her that he's there to pick them up, Mizu collects Akemi and Taigen, and stuffs them inside Ringo's car. You walk her out though, and cheekily press a kiss on her neck before you wave goodbye.

Moments after Mizu gets home, she locks the door behind herself, and lets out the loudest scream ever. A victory scream, if you will.

Right before she gets into the shower, her phone buzzes with a notification. It's from you.

"hey. i had a good time."

"i'm gonna be at the aquarium tomorrow btw."

Mizu blinks at the texts. Did she just get invited to a date? Uh, fuck yeah!

"can't wait."

She texts back, and later that night, she can't help but play the image of what you did with her on that balcony. Her heat aches again, and she can't help but touch herself. But something changed.

It doesn't feel as good anymore...she wants your touch again. She got a small taste of Heaven, and she needs more. She can't wait until the date.

[maybeiwasjustjade]

The High King theory truly makes me ill.

And knowing SJM and her obsession with making certain characters superior and/or have some kind of divine right to rule, I know she’ll try to make it happen at the expense of literally everyone else.

Moreover, I don’t see how it can happen without a major war. They just got out of 50 years under Amarantha, I doubt the courts are itching for another incompetent warlords’ attempt at HK/HQ.

Who exactly would bow to Feyre and Rhysand? The High Lords meeting showed that barely anyone tolerated them, nor did they have any actual allies that wasn’t Helion. And I doubt Helion would be so forgiving when he finds out about Lucien. Tamlin and Eris would never, so they’d have to die. Neither would Tarquin or Kallias agree, so that’s a given war with the Seasonal Courts. Dawn would stay neutral, or end up the rebel court. It really is the only toss up.

And even with Gwydion (which rightfully belongs to Nesta alongside the Trove) as some kind of divine symbol, feysand genuinely sucks at ruling. Conquer Prythian—yes, conquer because the other HL would never submit if they asked nicely—when they can’t even rule or play nice with their own people. Enough with the HK dreams, Amren; Rhysand would be lucky if Illyria and Hewn City don’t band together soon to stage a massive uprising.

(Y’know I’m not surprised nobody in the IC can empathize with the CoN citizens. They were all trapped in Velaris for fifty years, where they were free and the sun still rose. Imagine if they’d been UtM with everyone else; maybe then they’d get it. That life where even the sun and trees and anything worth living is out of reach at the whims of a dictator is no life at all.)

And I’ve seen theories floating around that the HK plot is set up for Nyx instead, because he’s destined to inherit all seven powers of the court. Yeah, that’s equally terrible. Divine right to rule and conquer is bullshit. Balance is something that should exist but doesn’t in Acotar. If it did, Feyre wouldn’t be as powerful as she is. 7 drops is not a lot of magic; so tiny and miniscule that each HL didn’t even really notice they lost it. It doesn’t make sense that she could go toe to toe with them with just a singular drop.

Which is baffling when the same author wrote ToG. Everything that was given was scraped together and fought for miserably, and even in all that power, they had to sacrifice so much. Aelin Settled and got her kingdom back, but at the price of losing almost all her fire and getting to keep one drop of water. Dorian still has most of his magic, but at the price of being made a demon slave, committing fratricide, and having the sole responsibility of redeeming his kingdom ala Zuko. Manon fulfilled the prophecy and united her people, allowing them the chance to return home for the first time in 500 years. All it took was losing the Thirteen, who would never see that dream come to life.

Nothing came without cost.

And while yes, Feyre deserved to be remade after her death saving Prythian, the amount of magic she wields is the issue. Nesta having so much magic made sense given she stole most of it; we have yet to really see how much is left. But where’s the balance if Feysand does end up HK/HQ, or Nyx does. What have they given up that makes them more worthy to rule the entirety of Prythian than literally any other character? Because I can argue that they’ve lost a lot lesser. Whatever rights feysand believes they have is no more than a lot of other characters.

And the bloodline of Theia? Yeah, I’m pretty sure the important ones are her female descendants, like Bryce. And Bryce gave Gwydion to Nesta for a reason. If SJM wanted me to believe Feysand was the best choice, she should’ve made Nyx be born full Illyrian. Or better yet, mostly High Fae but with no magic. That would’ve been a much more interesting story to follow, given that Nyx might not be the next inheritor of the Night Court. And what it would mean for the Hewn City. She’ll never do it of course, but it would be fun.

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field XIII

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 4.2k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there. oh, and manipulation (both of them lowkey)

masterlists // nav // requests

a/n: nothing much to say other than thank you guys and i hope you like it :)

series masterlist

You think you might die from this heat. The ice bag that Coryo brought you only lasted so long, especially when you shared it with the covey, which cut its window of efficacy in half. Both of you trailed behind everyone on the way to the lake, besides for Maude Ivory who found a very comfortable spot on Coryo's back. You should have thought to buy her some new shoes before the several-hour hike, but you didn't think that would be of consequence.

"How is Sejanus?" You ask, making conversation as you wipe the sweat from your brow. You'd like to gauge if Coryo knew anything more about your mutual friend's habit of hanging around with the wrong people.

"He's... yeah. He's fine." Coryo sighs, adjusting his hold on Maude Ivory's legs around his waist as he steps over a tree root.

"You don't sound so sure." You laugh, tilting your head up at him.

The bruise on your cheek wasn't red anymore, now healing into a yellowish hue that Coryo could hardly tear his eyes away from. He wishes you were still in the habit of wearing makeup every day, then he wouldn't have to stare down the result of his failure every time he looked at you. He shakes his head. "Well, I'll tell you about it later."

You just nod, looking down at the ground in front of you to make sure you don't trip. Now it was your turn to wish that the two of you could talk about what's going on between you. Whatever Sejanus is up to with Billy Taupe reminded you that even though you're far away from the chains of the Capitol, you still weren't entirely free. Even if now it was just free of the prying ears of a little blonde girl who loved to talk. "If you could change one thing about your routine right now, what would it be?" You ask, looking up at him again and squinting at the sun as it breaks through the trees above you.

Coryo draws his head back for a moment, confusion washing over his features at the seemingly random question. "Uh, everything. Next question."

"Ah-ah," You shake your head, hair falling into your face which you quickly pull back again. "Only one thing."

"Okay, fine." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Um... not sure, honestly. Maybe I'd have more success trapping those damn Mockingjays." He grumbles, looking up into the treeline.

You laugh, rubbing over the mostly healed scratches on your arms. "Nothing yet, huh?" Up until the point that you forgave him, you had gone out every night for almost a week, having learned a better system for opening the traps that didn't result in them cutting up your arms with their claws. Not so much as a thank you from the birds that apparently could speak, until you had started to thank yourself every time you reached around the side of the traps to open the metal, just so they would echo it back to you. You knew it was crazy, but it had become a fun semblance of a normal routine.

"Not one. Hardly any Jabberjays either, we think someone was setting them free in the night, they were easier to trap at first." He replies, smiling at you despite his frustrations about it. He couldn't wait until they could catch enough for Dr. Kay so he could start shooting them instead. "Rebels, most likely."

"That's annoying." You laugh, trying to hide the nervousness in your tone. "Why would they care about some birds?" It was a stupid question to pose, to poke holes in his only theory when it didn't already point back to you.

"They're hardly more than animals themselves." He grumbles, shrugging. "No, actually, I'd probably spend more time with you, if I could." He changes his answer and effectively, the topic as well. At this, Maude Ivory lifts her head from his shoulder.

"Are you guys in love?" She asks, turning her head so she can look at you now.

"Oh, no." Your cheeks burn as you laugh, shaking your head. "It's complicated big kid business, Maude Ivory."

"That's enough." Coryo chuckles nervously, spinning her on his hip and carefully putting her down. "Go bother the others."

The girl giggles, walking backward in front of you with her shoes in her hand. "It's why, I love you, you're as pure as the driven-" She starts to sing a song you were writing with Lucy Gray, knowingly taunting you, but you're quick to cut her off.

"Hey! Don't!" You laugh quickly, pretending to push her forward so she'll run along. "They've got some thin walls in that house..." You chuckle quietly, avoiding his gaze as you watch her run up ahead.

After a few moments of silence, Coryo speaks again. "What about you? What would you change?"

"Can I be uncreative and say the same thing as you?" You ask, cheeks still red.

"Sure." He nods slightly, a small smile on his face.

"Great, because those birds are starting to get on my nerves." You joke, bumping your shoulder against his arm.

He smiles, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I hate you too."

"Oh, hush. You know I love you." You freeze up as soon as you say it, suddenly it holds a lot more weight to it than your typical friendly banter.

At that, Coryo drapes his arm over your shoulder with a satisfied smile, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

"Can you tell me about Sejanus, now?" You ask, head placed on Coryo's lap as you lay on the dock. You had been out of the water for a little while, now, utilizing the sun to dry your wet hair and skin.

He looks back up to the cabin, seeing Lucy Gray and the rest of the covey scattered and picking plants or lying in the grass. "Uh, he just keeps sneaking off, and I found a good bit of money in his locker, but he told me he was broke so... I don't know what he's up to."

You sigh. "I've seen him hanging around Billy Taupe a lot. They're a sketchy crowd in the nicest of terms."

"Well, he is district. It doesn't surprise me that he'd associate with them." Coryo explains, distracted in a weak attempt at braiding a small section of your hair.

"He's gonna get himself killed." You mutter, eyes closed to block out the sun. You couldn't tell Coriolanus about how you ran into Sejanus a couple of weeks ago, knowing he would ask questions about why you were out at that time too. It's easier to lie to Sejanus than to him.

"It's not our problem if we stay out of it." Coryo tries to ease your mind.

"We can't just stand by and watch, though. It'll eat my conscience alive if something were to happen to him."

Coriolanus looks down at you, watching your calm expression form into something resembling worry. He chews on the inside of his cheek and nods to himself. He would have to do something, if Sejanus ended up getting in some kind of trouble, the guilt of knowing without acting will kill you. "Okay. I'll figure something out. I'll get him to keep his distance." He promises.

Days had passed since that interaction, and Coriolanus is crippled by the fear that he made a horrible mistake. He got the full story from Sejanus, and it was worse than he pictured.

You liked Sejanus, at least you acted like it when he was around. Coriolanus could always see that the district-born boy meant something to you, even if it was unclear based on the way you spoke about him when he wasn't present. Him running off into the woods with a bunch of derelect rebels was far from a viable option, Coriolanus wouldn't have it. He couldn't risk your reaction knowing that he told you he would do something to intervene.

He needed to talk to you. You were the only one he could trust to tell about the Capitol-bound recording he sent off of Sejanus' confession, or the news that his family had been kicked out of their apartment back home. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell you. Coryo had been fighting this internal battle for what felt like ages, so maybe he could just include the basics, leave out his actions, and let you lift some of the tensions from his shoulders by telling him it would be okay. That it would all be over soon, and that you're proud of him for passing his exam. He could get the two of you out of this dump by the end of next week, and he couldn't get you away fast enough.

Unfortunately for him, when he finally arrived at the Hob on his night off you were already on stage with the Covey. You were laughing, dancing and spinning, occasionally joining Maude Ivory on her hip drum while Lucy Gray sang. The crowd loved you, and you loved the attention. He'd be lying to himself if he tried to say he didn't love watching you so happy, but the timing was inconvenient at best.

Coryo found his usual spot against the wall, sitting down next to Sejanus. He wasn't about to let him out of his sight, not anymore.

"Give it up for our friends in the band!" He smiles at Maude Ivory's excessive spirit as she holds her arms out to encourage applause before her eyes lock on him. Her face lights up more, somehow, and he greets it with a nod.

She turns to you while music is slowly tuning out, and gives a slight tug on the bottom of your new dress. It had been scuffed up in your fight with Ash, but you had cleaned it up nicely- hardly a stitch was out of place.

You look down at the girl, who just gives a slight nod in the direction of the wall Coryo was sat against. "He's here, you gotta sing it now!" Maude Ivory says, loud enough so you could hear but not enough to be picked up by the mic behind her.

You look very briefly over at Coryo, shaking your head at her as your cheeks turn rosy. "He's never gonna hear it." You say, leaning down to her level. "Who even says its about him, huh?"

"You can't trick me, Sage." She giggles, pointing at your nose.

"C'mon, lets do it!" Lucy Gray chimes in encouragingly as you stand back up. "I'll play for you. All you gotta do is sing."

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head again. "No, I-"

"Now, welcome back for her second performance with us, Sage! She's gonna take us over for a minute here. I promise, y'all are in for a real treat." You're interrupted by Maude Ivory making the announcement for you. Internally you cuss, plastering on a nervous smile.

"It's beautiful, you gotta relax." Lucy Gray says in your ear, already adjusting her hold on her guitar. "If I can sing a breakup song to the whole country, you can sing a love song just to the folks in this room. C'mon." She smiles, nodding for you to take the mic as Maude Ivory bows you in.

You'd played this song a bunch back at the Covey's home after Lucy Gray caught you humming the abstract tune of a lullaby your mother used to sing to get you to sleep when you were little. You didn't remember a single word, but the melody was enough for her to recreate and embellish it into one of their songs, to which she insisted you help her write the words for.

Coryo is leaning forward, elbows rested on his knees as he watches you. From what he knew, you weren't much of a singer. The redness evenly spreading across your cheeks and nose in time with the intro music was evidence enough of that.

"Sing for us, sweetheart!" Someone from the crowd calls out, which is matched with whistles that force Coryo to sit up to try and get a look at who the hell is yelling at you. His jaw is seized until he hears your voice echoing through the large room, drawing his gaze back to you on the stage.

"I've taken some hits, so no wonder I'm wary. It's why I need you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."  You look over his way only briefly while you sing the first round of the chorus, trying not to let your voice catch from the nervousness still pumping through every inch of your body.

He knows it before you're finished, but the last word, the one you didn't let Maude Ivory get to on the way to the lake, makes his heart flip in his chest. The eye contact he made with you as you said his name was so heavy with everything you've ever wanted to say to one another but never had, and he completely swells with pride knowing that it was about him.

"Cold and clean, swirling over my skin..." The inclination, again, to shout to everyone that you were his girl was immense and overtaking. Just like the first time, but now he knew it for sure. He was positive."You cloak me, You soak right in, down to my heart."

By the time you render the final verse, his whole world has changed."It's why I trust you, you're as pure as the driven snow..."

I'm gonna marry her.

He's up as soon as the song is over, heading for the back of the stage as you take your bow. Your smile is wiped when you look up and he's no longer there, and neither is Sejanus. Worry pools in your insides as you scan the crowd, giving a rushed smile to Lucy Gray and Maude Ivory as you jump down. You hurry to the back of the stage, brow furrowed as you search for Coryo.

By some miracle, he's there. If you're not mistaken, he's got tears in his eyes as he strides up to you quickly, the stage lights leaking past the stage to illuminate him just enough. His pace and his intense expression only worry you more. "Is everything-" You ask frantically, only for your question to be disrupted by his actions.

Coryo takes a deep breath, and then, as soon as you're within reach, he cups your face in his hands and leans in. The world around you seems to fade as his lips meet yours in a passionate, long-awaited kiss.

Time stands still, and in that moment, everything falls into place. The worries that plagued him when he walked in completely dissolved as he felt your hair in between his fingers. When he finally pulls away, a small smile graces his face.

You're both breathing heavily as you stare at each other, and it's then that you realize he wasn't crying due to any kind of upset. He was crying because of you. With a smile so real that you could feel the sun on your back, even late at night in this dim building hundreds of miles from the comfort of your collective home.

"Coryo..." You say, smile fading as you regain perceptions of your real life.

"I know, and I have so much to tell you..." He grins, leaning down to kiss you again.

It was your turn to interrupt, pressing a hand to his chest to stop him in his tracks. Tracks you so desired to follow, wherever they may take you, but right now you had bigger concerns. "No, no it's... where is Sejanus?"

He pauses, and it's like the spell is broken as he straightens his posture, looking around as if Sejanus should be right there. "Uh... shit." He had completely forgotten about his friend as he fell under the trance of your voice, of the song you were singing to him.

You're quickly out from under his arms, walking back around the side of the stage to go look for your friend.

"Coryo-" You stop, and he's right on your heels as you turn back to him, pointing toward the back wall. "Go check the bar. Keep an eye out for Billy Taupe. Obviously. He's probably with him." You instruct and he nods to you quickly before beginning to push his way through all the drunk people in the crowd.

You try and scan the sea of faces, but you don't see Sejanus anywhere. The music the Covey is playing is loud, drowning out any hopes you had of being able to shout for the boy. You could follow Coryo in the search, but that would no doubt just waste time. You groan, pushing your hair back out of your face in frustration. You shouldn't have stopped Coryo from kissing you again, if Sejanus wants to be reckless you should just let him. The two of you already saved his life once, was that not enough for him?

You glance down the deserted hallway to your right, and then your feet are carrying you toward the back room in an instant. You turn the corner and push the sliding door open when you hear shouting coming from the other side. "What the fuck is going on?" You ask, eyes flitting between Sejanus, and the two other boys in the room, alongside a girl who who you vaguely recognize.

"Y/N?" Sejanus asks, turning back to you quickly.

"Y/N..." The girl mutters to herself, rolling the name around in her mind and on her tongue. You can see it in the way she's looking at you. You ignore it, eyes locked on your friend now.

"I told you to not get involved in things you shouldn't, didn't I? Didn't Coryo?" You scold him, gesturing to the door.

"It's not- I didn't know they were going to buy weapons! It's not what I wanted, they told me the money was only for supplies, that no one would get hurt!"

"These are supplies." Billy Taupe's friend, Spruce, replies.

"Why would you trust them!" You spit, pointing vaguely at the other people in the room.

"Listen, Princess-" Billy Taupe starts, a bitter taste to his tone just as the door slides open again. Coryo's frame is blocking your view of the boy in a second, tucking you carefully behind his back.

"Talk to me. Not her." He hisses, and you grab his arm. The feeling of his skin under your palms is comforting, warm, and tense in your grip. "What are you doing, guns, Sejanus?" He turns his attention to your classmate.

"Coriolanus, I didn't know this is what they would do, they lied to me-" Sejanus starts his pleads for help again on a separate set of ears.

Unsurprisingly, his response is almost identical to yours. "You thought they would be honest? What are you doing? There are peacekeepers right outside!"

"That's what I said." You mumble in exasperated agreement "Why did you even give them money at all?" You ask, hoping to get some answers.

"Sejanus wants to run off with these dimwits into the woods up north," Coryo explains to you.

"What?" You ask, shocked, looking past him at the boy you've known for years. The thought of never seeing him again pulls at your heartstrings in a way you're unfamiliar with. "You can't. Absolutely not."

"You're not my Ma, Y/N!" Sejanus spits.

"Wait, I know you." The girl cuts in, pointing at you. "You're that missing girl. From the Capitol. Y/N Y/L/N. My dad got a call about you!"

You freeze up at the accusation, biting your tongue as you look up at Coryo. A memory flashes in your mind, that's why you recognize her. She's the girl who Lucy Gray dropped a snake on in the reaping- the mayor's daughter. "Huh?" You ask, trying to look as confused as possible.

"Don't play dumb, we're past that." She scoffs and you just shake your head.

"Genuinely, don't know what you're talking about." You relax your posture, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Well," She sighs, shrugging sarcastically. "I'll go tell my dad where you are. Your family sure is missin' you..." She starts to take a few steps before the back exit and you clench your jaw at her smug smile. You want to rip the hair out of her head and throw her body in the lake to rot.

"Mayfair, you can't leave." Billy Taupe scolds her, grabbing her arm which she quickly yanks away.

"This is ridiculous and confusing, and you act like I don't see the way you still look at Lucy Gray! Why don't you take her with you instead, huh?"

"She is coming, isn't she?" Spruce asks, seeming just as confused as you in a completely opposite way.

"You were bringing Lucy Gray?!" Mayfair shouts, shaking her head at her (now presumably) ex-boyfriend.

"She said she wanted to come!" Billy Taupe defends and you laugh, shaking your head.

"Okay, so clearly there's some major communication issues in this gang of misfits you've found, Sejanus, so let's just go and leave them to it. It won't benefit you to be stuck in the wilderness with a bunch of starving idiots who will kill each other in a week if they get too lazy to hunt." You plead with him and he shakes his head at you.

"Y/N, wait-" Coryo says, looking back at you only briefly.

"Yeah, Capitol Princess is right. I'm out." Mayfair says, raising her hands in defeat and turning to leave. "You'll all hang for this!"

"This power trip you have about your father being the mayor pales in comparison to what my family has. You'll all be dead by the morning if you say a word." You tell her, voice calm as she freezes, turning to look back at you.

"She's all talk, she won't tell anyone." Billy Taupe tries to defend her from the tensions rising in the room. You were concerned about getting sent home, of course, but if she told about their plans to run, everyone in the room would be executed come the morning light.

"Oh, you think I'm scared of you, Sage? You think I won't tell? Ask Lucy Gray." She's right, Lucy Gray had told you about how this girl was responsible for the reaping being rigged to result in Lucy Gray's death in the games. What they never accounted for was her strength, her intelligence, and her having Coriolanus Snow and Y/N Y/L/N as mentors.

And how Lucy Gray became a victor, known initially to most of the Capitol for her similarities to you. Only, Lucy Gray wasn't bat shit crazy.

Coryo's mind is reeling at the threat made to you as the girl starts to walk away. Within a second, before you can even make a move to tackle her, he's reaching onto the table and grabbing one of the guns. He lines up quickly and squeezes the trigger, letting the bullet fly square into the center of the girl's back. His training had paid off sooner than he thought. Coriolanus wasn't about to have you caught, sent back to a home much worse than that safety hazard at the edge of the Seam where you're currently staying.

"Mayfair!" Billy Taupe is quickly at the girls side, but she's already dead. Sejanus is shaking, and you are fighting back the smile that threatens to form on your lips despite the stress of the moment. "What have you done?" He screams at your friend.

"She was gonna get us all killed!" You defend. "You should be thanking him! Trust me, she was nothing special."

"You've got something comin', Capitol boy." He says, shaking his head as he looks up at the two of you, hatred filling his eyes. "You think you're gonna blame me for this? That you'll never get caught?"

You resist the urge to just shrug, agreeing that no, probably not. Undeniably, your best move would be to blame him. "He was defending all of us, can you not get that through your thick skull?" You settle on, keeping your footing as level as possible as Coryo pulls you back closer to his side again.

"If I swing, for this you will with me!" He screams in anger, back on his feet and moving quickly towards you as Coryo shoves you back behind him, lining up again. He didn't have to shoot, though, because Spruce does. The boy's body flings into the wall to the left of you from the force of the impact, slumping against the floor.

Your heart is pounding as you look between your two friends. "Sejanus, are you alright?" You ask, trying to approach him as Coryo starts shouting orders at Spruce to get rid of the guns.

"Hey, he's fine." Coryo grabs your arm, pulling you close to him to look at you. "I'm gonna handle this. Get back out there and sing, play the violin, just do something, okay?"

You glance back at Sejanus again, who is clearly panicking so bad he looks like he might faint. "No, I'm not leaving you, and Sejanus-"

"Sejanus is fine." Coryo says again sternly, shaking your shoulders now as he looks into your eyes. "Go back out there. I will handle this. I'll find you soon." He promises, gently pushing you in the way of the door. "Go. Now."

You swallow the anxiety sitting uncomfortably in the back of your throat and nod, glancing only briefly at your friends before you leave, closing the door quickly behind you.

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i've closed my taglist for coryo now!! sorry to everyone who wanted to be added, but unfortunately there was significantly more demand than i expected and i sadly just can't tag everyone. BUT! if you still want notifications when i post for this fic, please turn on my post notifs!!