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retiredteabag · 1 month ago

Text

Unknown Rivals

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader

Synopsis: There was only one thing worse than being paired with Sukuna for an important school project, and that was realizing the slacker somehow had a higher class standing than yourself.

Tags: Academic rivals, enemies to eventual lovers, type A reader, anxiety, college!au

pt. 1 - pt. 2 - pt. 3 - next part

One thing was for sure about the past weekend, and that was the fact that your advisor knew not to assign you any future classes with this monster of a man.

You had three finals coming up, one of which came in the form of a presentation. And you had yet to practice said presentation and your partner scheduled that particular event at the most inconvenient of times. The whole endeavor was drawing a lot of your current anxiety. Of course, you didn't ask to reschedule.

You had looked over the combination of slides in your PowerPoint, waiting by the day for Sukuna to finalize his speaker notes, and everyday your distress only grew.

It was not uncommon for the dunning kruger effect to take hold of the arrogant men in your lectures. He may have brought up concerns about your own public speaking ability, but you have yet to see the man speak in full sentences before anyone.

Over inflated head, self-important, Oscar Wilde level egomaniac-

The class's presentations were split into two groups; the first half of the class would present on Thursday, and the latter half, on Friday. You were one of the unfortunate teams that would go first.

The nerves were getting to the point of being sickening every time you passed the auditorium. The hollow heartbeat swelled in your chest and you felt nauseated. Too soon, you would be in there, on that stage, stood beside that arrogant prick.

Being one of the first groups to speak might be better than having to be last; just get it over with... still, it wasn't great for gauging the audience, competition, or topics.

You were to present before the faculty, classmates, and employers looking for interns.

Maybe Sukuna had been correct. Yes, you could be "anal about this stuff", sure, but you had put too much money into your education to not put in equal effort. Since when was it a crime to try?

For the fifth time that week, you looked over his slides...still, no speaker notes on the later half.

He did look like the type to wing it. Read the SparkNotes and assume he could sound intellectual with the insertion of pauses and emphasis on basic information. For a normal assignment, a professor might be non the wiser, but for something as important as this final? He needed to know his stuff.

And what then, if he was asked a question? What if he didn't prepare? What if he crashed and burned? The smoke would affect you too.

That's why you find yourself waiting inside a private study room in the library that Wednesday. You had arrived right on time to the room you had reserved and were unpacking the contents of your bag when a pack of giggling students retched the door open.

There was a moment of silence that passed between all before you cleared your throat, "Sorry...I reserved this room..." the group looked around at each other, making pouty faces.

Eventually one of them spoke up, "Do you really need it?" They all shared a pitiful look, "Theres a lot more of us, we really need the room..."

You stood there for a moment, expecting someone in their friend group to have a speck of sense. It quickly became clear that none of them did, "Right... well, I'm sorry but I need the room too."

"Every other room is reserved by a group, this room is just you." One of them pointed out, speaking far too loudly to have the door open to the library stacks.

"I'm here to work with my project partner." You huffed, as if that made a difference. The room was yours! There was no way you were going to back down. You would be presenting tomorrow and needed a space to practice. "That's why I reserved the space."

They make faces as if you have committed some kind of hate crime, throwing their arms in the air in offense. "Your partner isn't even here, can't we just use it? You could literally go anywhere else."

The group nods at the boy who spoke up, fully supporting his argument as if he just slam-dunked you with a killer 2AR. You sigh looking down to check the time on your phone. If Sukuna wasn't here, you might as well just leave. Who’s to say he’ll come anyway?

You weigh your options, he hadn’t responded to your email this time either.

"Pretty sure it's you who can go anywhere else."

He wasn't loud, but his voice rang with conviction. Speak of the devil. You look away from your watch and observe his effect on the group.

Sukuna pulled the door back wider, he stood at least a head taller than the largest among them, and while he was never found with a smile on his face anyway, he looked particularly harsh in this moment.

"Can't we just-" one of the girls leaned into Sukuna, grabbing his bicep, "take the room?" She smiled sweetly, tracing an index finger over his arm, "There's a lot of us, you know?"

Sukuna practically jolts off of her, tearing his arm out of her grasp, and making a twisted face in the group's direction. "Get offa me." He moves through the rest of the students, tossing his bag onto the table with a bang.

You make brief eye contact before he watches you turn to see the pack of freshmen resolutely standing in the doorway. He swings back, rolling his eyes, "Now get out."

There wasn't any room for argument in his tone. The lot of them huffed and griped but made no real fuss as they crossed their arms and whispered insults. The door slowly slid shut.

You plug your laptop into the adapter, muttering, "Good to see you've finally showed up."

"I didn't have an attitude when you were late to the library."

He just stands there. Unzipping his bag on the ovular table in front of the projector.

You look at him, recalling that day well, you want to snip at him again but you cant help the short, somewhat shocked, laugh you let out.

He walks to the other side of the room, pulls out his notebook and looks at the screen. "So are we practicing, or what?"

"Oh, we're practicing, all right." You mutter to yourself.

You bring out the sheet from the first week you met in the library. It outlined the topics that each of you would need to cover. You open up the PowerPoint and turn to look at him, comfortably sitting down.

"We should probably start with introductions."

"We roleplaying this?" He sat with his legs spread on the swivel chair, arms crossed.

"You were the one who asked to practice." You point out, motioning for him to get up. "At the presentation, the students will have nametags, but we should still open up with a greeting so they know who to call on for questions."

He sighs, lifting himself from his seat like it took a great effort, he stood beside you, looking to his mock audience, he points to himself,

"Sukuna, Ryomen." Then he turns to look at you, jutting out his thumb in your direction, and as if it is the most natural thing in the world, calls out your full name.

It was so strange, you got caught searching for words. You had no idea he knew your name. If there was one thing obvious about Sukuna, it was his blatant dislike of his peers. It wasn't uncommon to see him rolling his eyes, or avoiding the fellow students that followed him around all the time.

"Right, okay, we'll smooth out that part later, for now, lets focus on the first few slides." You lean down and point out the screen of your laptop, "I'll go first. I’ll give my thesis as a roadmap for my information, then you can do yours."

You turn your face to the side, expecting him to still be standing behind you, listening to your explanation, but pull back in alarm to find his face right beside yours, he was focused on what you were pointing out on the slide.

You jolt back, taking a moment to regain your thoughts, "…I’ll get into my half and allow for a segway into yours.” He follows your motion, standing straight. “We'll have clickers.” You continue, “Let's just say that whoever finishes explaining the slide will be responsible for clicking to the next one, okay?"

He was so watchful, it was unnerving. Had he always been like this? Seeming bored, he gives you a nod. "Sure."

The following two hours flew by. It was actually nice to not have to dance around issues, you could be confrontational and know he wouldn't get offended. He was well versed in his area of the presentation, easily paraphrasing what he wanted people to grasp from his slides. It wasn't until he sat down, asking you to present for him that you started having issues.

"What?" He leaned back in his chair, spinning slightly, "Give your speech, do it like I'm the audience."

"No." You huff, "not if you don't." You point at him.

"I'll do it, but you go first, you we're the one who wanted to start us off anyway." He’s brought this on you somewhat out of nowhere.

You look around the room, feeling suddenly anxious. You had practiced both you and Sukuna’s parts to the point of near memorization. You had recorded your speaker notes and listened to them before bed nightly. You knew what to say. But you were feeling suddenly…shy?

"Don't act like I've put you on the spot," He waves a hand, "We're here to practice."

"I know." You look at your shoes, feeling small, stupid. It was embarrassing to have him watch you. He just screamed judgment. You huff, "Fine. Turn around."

He looked almost insulted at the notion. "What? No."

"Would you just do it?"

Assuming he wouldn’t complain, you wait for him to turn. He just squints at you,"I knew you worried over nothing but do you have stage fright too or something?" Sukuna leans down, elbows on his knees.

You didn't really know what the issue was. Performing on stage, you could probably disassociate long enough to not feel so uncomfortable, but here, alone, with only his eyes to see you, it was different somehow. "No...maybe... I don't know."

"Well." He shrugs, "Now's a great time to shake off those nerves. Go on, I'm sure you have all your information down."

He motions your way, and you force yourself to go over your work, starting from the top. You try to focus on your cadence, intonation, and scripted pauses from your recording. You turn to look in the corner of the room, mimicking the intentional body language you had meticulously practiced in front of your bathroom mirror.

You spent the time expressing what you would say rather than pretending to teach him. Having already used the room for hours, you simply focused on the main points of contention, explaining your slides with practiced ease. Once you finished, you moved onto his starting slide and cantered passed him to one of the opposing chairs.

He did not take your cue, getting up to present, however, opting instead to open his body language, "I woulda thought you had a script in front of you."

"Like you said, I actually know my information." You snark, huffing out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Starting to become tired and stressed at the idea of the upcoming exams.

He simply rolled his eyes as the suggestion that he might not, "You can't make eye contact."

He was speaking as if stating a fact. Your brows furrow, having been doing exactly that what he said you apparently couldn’t do. "When you're presenting, you don’t look at me" He continues. "It's weird, you have no problem with watching people but when you know that someone is watching you, you can't seem to acknowledge it."

Your mouth twists into a mock smirk; he reminded you in that moment of your previous first-year psych student roommate, who genuinely believed themself a genius among feckless plebs.

"When we're on stage, we won't be making eye contact with anyone really-" You were about to defend yourself before being interrupted.

"See. You’re doing it again. You can't look at me." He narrows an accusing finger in your general direction. Moving to stand, he grabs the clicker off the table and shifts into a teasing tone. "Here's how it's done."

You were still somewhat reeling from him pointing out a habit you didn't even know you were taking part in. Wondering suddenly if others had noticed it and if so, why nobody had said anything.

You felt suddenly irked and wanted to prove to him that, no, you very well could make intentional eye contact with someone making a point to notice you.

It was a grueling task, and, as you would find out, your brain seemed to be sending every 'I am uncomfortable' signal to your body while attempting it. You couldn't seem to stop swallowing, voluntarily blinking, or forcefully making your hands stop moving.

All these small tasks took up some serious mental effort but despite that, you were still able to take in his oratory skills.

For a man so lacking in the interpersonal communication sphere, he presented with poise, confidence, and knowledge on his subject. He paced himself well and it almost seemed as though his speech was conducted in a way that made note-taking ideal. He seemed aware of his space and motioned accordingly.

When he wasn't gesturing or looking back at the slides, he was looking at you, as if he was lecturing you with the information you had tirelessly slaved over when studying his speaker notes.

And on the topic of speaker notes? He totally strayed from them! He didn't even follow the same roadmap that you had seen nights before. You hated it, but none could deny, he was still a compelling speaker. You couldn't make a sensible complaint because of how undeniably well he spoke.

Besides, what kind of anal, control-freak, dictator of a school partner memorized someone else's speaker notes?

The issue arose in you suddenly that Sukuna doesn't need to make an effort like you do. He doesn't care to, he simply has the confidence in himself. He seemed to hold no anxiety and no care for how he was perceived. The only issue was, these types often flunked out of school, and here he was thriving.

While he wrapped up his slides, he crossed his arms over his chest, pointedly looking your way.

You think back to your previous interactions, Sukuna must see himself as so terribly generous, allowing you the time of day to practice with him. He likely thought the concept stupid. And worse? His efforts didn't ease your nerves, and they did not qualm your worries.

Your thoughts are cut off by the brisk striking of his knuckles on the table. You look up at him, "Get out of your thoughts." He slides past you to his bookbag, putting away a notebook. "We're in good shape."

You aren't sure what to say. You don't feel like you're in good shape but you don't want to discourage him, not that you thought it possible for him.

Before he slips out of the door, you turn to him, "I'm going to send you a list of mock questions so you can prepare some answers." He wouldn’t look at the email, you were sure.

He snorted a laugh, "Good to know you were paying attention."

And he was gone.

Sukuna was not terribly fond of school, that is, in the typical sense. He did enjoy learning and was dedicated to his area of study, sure, but being around people? He found it exhausting.

You hadn't stuck out to him, but it was hard to not notice you. You sat in the front of every single lecture, pristinely on time. You were one of the students that the professor felt inclined to call on. And he saw you in the library, often.

It was not until he had been enlisted as your partner for the practicum that he started to see why you had taken his notice.

At first, he shook it off, thinking himself crazy, but after three sessions in the library, it was clear what it was. You reminded him of someone.

You were just like his nephew.

Wednesdays and Fridays in the library, you would be rambling on about something, going over the expectations for the project draft, explaining the sources you wanted him to utilize, and he would be listening, sure, but he would be seeing Yuuji.

The little boy was a little shit, and despite being wildly more extroverted that yourself, he too was nervous about everything.

Sukuna was like a second parent to the boy, and as much as he would complain, he wouldn't change it for a thing.

It was weird, to see the kid in you. At first he stocked you up as a try-hard, but in reality, he assumes you're just scared. You really are just like that little boy.

You did not sleep well last night. You got to bed early but you simply couldn't slip away. And when you finally did pass over into restless sleep, you were promptly woken up by your own hyperactive consciousness.

You checked the clock each time. Had you really set that alarm? You would go over your script and the more you did, the sicker you felt. You craved more time to practice, you craved for your body to stop jittering with nerves, you craved to just fall asleep damn it!

After a few more hours of waking only to have found rest in literal minute increments, you arose. Dressed yourself and began to get ready.

Everything around you spoke of a good day, the weather was perfect, you looked great, and you had all the rehearsed information at the ready.

Still, internally, you couldn't reach peace.

Once you arrived at the auditorium, you spotted your professor and retrieved your nametag from him. Sukuna was no where to be found which only added to your panic. You paced in the box, the private room for speakers, behind the theater, and repeatedly touched your hair.

Even with potential hours to go, you were feeling overwhelmed, you were at the point of wishing you could just go first and be done with it all.

You were squeezing water out of a thin paper towel and placing it on your neck when the door creaked open.

You flipped to him, "Where have you been?!" You hissed.

You had plenty of time before you would be introduced but you couldn't hide the frustration in your voice.

Sukuna was dressed in a Mandarin suit, he looked perfectly relaxed and the notion only fueled your anger. "I had a class..."

He comes forward and sets his (backup) flash drive on the circular table in the middle of the loge. "Well, why didn't you say that before?” You make an exasperated face and feel your heartbeat quicken, “And where is your nametage?"

Even you could hear the hysterical twinge in your voice, you took a deep breath and told yourself to relax. He didn't say anything, just raised his brows while reaching behind to retrieve the very thing from his back pocket.

Embarrassed, you tear the makeshift cloth from your neck and rush to sit on the couch. You scrap the towel to shreds before disposing of it.

"Everything's in order, we'll be alright." He didn't come to join you on the sofa but watched from the side of the box. He didn’t sound comfortable but he certainly seemed to believe his own words.

"It doesn't even really matter." You had been telling yourself this very thing for weeks when someone took notice of how concerned you were. Not a part of you believed it but you hoped the phrase would ease your mind anyway.

"Oh, it matters." Sukuna laughed.

You wanted to be mad, but in all reality, he was just saying what you knew, him lying would not have comforted you. He started to come over now.

"It just isn't so important that you need to kill yourself over it." You rolled your eyes, knowing what he was saying.

"If we bomb, then that's that, so what?" He tossed his hands up slightly.

You looked at him, and without even needed to study his face, you knew he meant it. He believed it. ‘So what?’ You roll the words around in your brain, shaking your head. You couldn't have stopped the words from escaping.

"I hate people like you." You mutter it, undertones of a laugh there, nothings amusing. "Seriously, I hate how you can just say that."

He isn't mad. The bastard grins, "Oh, trust me, I know."

And then he’s leaving the room. You don't have much time to wonder about what exactly he was doing. You hadn’t thought he would be upset at your declaration. Then again, you hadn’t exactly been thinking when you said it.

What had he meant, that he knew? I guess a guy like him just assumes everyone who isn’t perfectly relaxed at all times is a suck up.

When he returned, he was carrying water bottles and complimentary fruit from outside the auditorium doors. This time around he does come sit, right next to you.

"Have some."

You don't feel thirst but you still accept it when he cracks open the bottle for you. He places the fruit on the table before you both and takes a drink himself.

"I didn't really mean that, I'm just jealous of how you live." He's leaned back and his suit pants clung to his legs.

He purses his lips and shifts his head from side to side, smirking, Mmm, I don't know, I think you actually meant it."

You both chuckle, the nerves are still getting to you. "I still hate you for what you did earlier this semester." You lighten your voice but glance his way to show you do mean it.

He turns his head now, brow raised but still comfortably leaning against the back of the couch. "What did I do earlier this semester?"

You laugh, rolling your eyes. It takes him a moment before he sees you’re not gonna reply, "No, what did I do?"

"The whole beginning of this project." You muse. He still isn't catching what you're saying so you motion with your hands. "Our meetings, in the library? You never told me you were top of the class."

“Should I go out and advertise it?" He clearly isn't getting what you mean.

"No, Sukuna, it sucks because you never told me that you were well versed in the class material.” He still doesn’t seem to grasp the issue, “I’m saying, it made me feel stupid to find out that the guy I thought I was tutoring was actually competing with me."

"It made you feel stupid?"

"In a way. Like you were mocking me."

Sukuna frowns, he leans onto his knees. "I wasn't mocking you."

"You say that." You poke his shoulder and he looks at you quizzically.

In all actuality, it was nice to be able to tell him these things, you didn't feel that anger anymore. As of it had rolled off, only shame lingered.

"I never minded our sessions in the library. I guess it made things easier, you're so..." he reaches for the word,

“Anal?” You recount when he had called you that very thing.

He rolls his eyes, "Organized."

"Thanks." Your voice is low, sarcastic.

He shrugs. Some of the nerves have left you, but suddenly you're hearing voices in the auditorium, one specifically telling people to file in through the doors, and you know you'll be speaking soon.

He turns to look at you again, legs parallel to your own, his palms flat on his thighs, "You care too much about what others think."

He's doing that thing, that I'm-going-to-make-intentional-eye-contact-with-you-and-it-will-be-an-unspoken-comeptition-to-prove-you-can't-do-it thing.

"Maybe you're too carefree." You offer silently.

Soon, someone will come through the doors before you with mic packs and you'll have tape on your face. Your heart pounds. "You should feel okay without having to prove that you’re worthy of validation from others."

He reaches forward for his water bottle, voices can be heard above you, to your sides. People are taking their seats. "You're a smart girl."

And for the second time this week, he says your name and it feels just as strange as it had that first time. "And you didn't have to prove it for me to see it."

And with everything else occurring in this moment, you feel the most upset about the fact that the obnoxious Sukuna Ryomen might just bring unshed tears to your eyes.

You’re silent as you stand, brushing unseen dust off your clothing. Sukuna is stood there by the door that leads to the area behind the stage, his hand is outstretched.

You look around frantically, turning to find his clicker that he must have left on the table, but before you can start searching, he scoffs.

He leans forward and grabs your arm, spinning you gently. He robotically shows you his hand again and places your own in it.

Oh.

He tightens his encompassing palm around your own and makes a tugging sensation to pull you ahead of him through the door he held open.

People in the tech crew were setting everything up and called you each over to get your mics on.

When he lets you go, your hand twitches involuntarily.

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you felt the warmth of his hand. And for some reason, you couldn’t think of much else as you got mic’d up, despite the ever growing voiced in the audience.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Tags: @blueyesuguru @monimonster57 @p1nkfl0wers @giasssslife @csolya @esmedelacroix @sukubusss @v1sque @clp-84 @snowsilver2000 @blueemochii @bitchyfestivalbouquet @rodeorun @chosolovrrr @minethy

(if your name is here but you didn’t get tagged. I think it’s either because your blog is new/blank/empty where you need to check your privacy settings.) :[

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i-dared-myself · 2 months ago

Text

To Home Newfound

Stray Kids x reader

Part two to Transfer

Cw: Panic attack

You stand in front of Stray Kids, trying to peek past them. They’re blocking the way to the dorms, which is now your new living space as well.

“Come on,” you impatiently say. You shift your suitcase between hands. “Just let me in!”

Jeongin winces. “In our defence… We don’t have company often.”

You roll your eyes. “It can’t be that bad.”

But yes. It is that bad.

The kitchen appears to be dripping with raw eggs, and cabinets hang off by the hinges. A couch is flipped over, and to your horror, there’s an incredibly detailed drawing of a penis on the wall.

Your jaw drops and you cover your mouth with your hand. “Oh my-“

Minho steps around you, narrowing his eyes at the kitchen. “I don’t remember it being that terrible. What happened?”

Jisung laughs awkwardly. “Changbin and I tried cooking.”

You wince as a splatter of mystery fluids lands on the floor. It seems like it came directly from the ceiling.

“We used a blender,” Changbin clarifies. “It didn’t go so well.”

“I can see that,” you dryly remark. “Um, I could just stay at a hotel. Or like the streets?”

“No, we’ll clean up.” Chan shakes his head at you before issuing orders to the group. They dash around, and before you know it, everything is normal. It’s fine now.

“So where should I put my stuff?” You lift your luggage slightly so they’re reminded of it.

Jeongin raises his hand. “You can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“But don’t you share a bed with someone?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Jeongin frowns. “Drat, you’re right.”

“Why don’t you take the couch.” Seungmin waves his hands at you. “It’s nice and comfy. And um…”

You purse your lips. “Okay. Yeah, it’s only fair since I am intruding on your space.”

Chan rubs the back of his neck. “But it’s not like you wanted to come here. You were kinda forced into it.”

You wring your hands, having put your suitcase next to the couch. You examine the couch and smile up at them. “I’ll be okay. I’m sure it’s comfortable.”

Felix grins from ear to ear. “That’s the spirit. Now why don’t I make us some lunch? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

You hesitate. “Uh, I actually have to go out. Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s fine.” Felix shakes his head, expression still cheery. “What do you have planned?”

“I have to sort some stuff out with my old group,” you awkwardly tell them. “Uh, like apologizing for everything.”

“Why would you have to apologize?” Hyunjin arches and eyebrow curiously. “They’re the ones who abandoned you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Still…” you unsurely say. You fidget with the hem of your shirt. “I feel like I owe it to them.”

Chan pats your arm as he walks past, smiling softly. “Don’t feel like you owe anyone anything, okay? But if it’ll make you feel better I can drive you over.”

“You would drive me?” you question. When he nods, you eagerly bob your head. ��Yes, please! Usually I have to walk places, or order a ride. I never really feel safe like that.”

Changbin studies you, gaze heavy. “You’ll always feel safe with us.”

“And that means not sleeping on a couch!” Jisung brightly says. He glances around before sighing. “I guess you could share a bed with me, since I’m your bestest friend here. That would make you feel the most comfortable, right?”

“You’re the best friend?” Seungmin scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh, please. As if.”

Minho crosses his arms over his chest and shifts his weight between legs. “I mean, I have a sleeping bag from that time we went camping.”

Hyunjin points at Minho. “Good idea! She can sleep in that!”

“And how is that better than the couch?” Jeongin asks. He groans and rolls off the couch with a dull thud. “My idea was the best! Sleep in my bed!”

“Why don’t we let her decide?” Felix pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I’d like the sleeping bag, please,” you politely request. “I would roll off the couch in the middle of the night and break my neck.”

Minho eyes you up and down. “Yeah, you look like you’re dumb in your sleep.”

“Excuse me?” you demand as he wanders off, presumably to find the sleeping bag. “What‘s that supposed to mean?”

Chan sighs heavily. “That’s not-“

Hyunjin gasps. “I totally see it!”

“I’m not sure…” Changbin scowls slightly. “I mean she looks like she drools in her sleep but-“

“Isn’t everyone dumb when they sleep?” Jisung question. “Like, that’s how it works I’m pretty sure.”

“I don’t drool in my sleep!” you exclaim in outrage. Seriously, who do they think you are? Who do they think they are for assuming these things about you?

Minho returns and lays a sleeping bag out on the ground. “Would this work? Try it.”

“Temporary solution until you decide to stay with us or not,” Chan chimes in. “And I could totally give up my bed if you wanted. You could sleep with-“

“No!” You shake your head and crawl into the sleeping bag. “This is fine! It’s comfy, see?”

Felix zips it up helpfully and stares down at you with a smile. “Good?”

You wiggle around and test it. “Yeah, it’s nice. Thank you, Minho.”

Chan checks his phone, eyebrows shooting up. “I have a meeting in two hours. Did you want to go see your old group now?”

“Yes please!” You squirm out of the sleeping bag, with much effort. You fix your messy hair, waving goodbye to the others.

Chan drives you to your old group’s studio, and although you offer to just let him stay in the car, he insists on coming with you. You tell him time and time again that you’re fine on your own, but he just grins and tells you he wants to come.

You wander into the dance studio, where your old group is practising. You watch from the doorway for a minute as you wait for them to finish. Chan sees someone he knows and rushes off to chat with them, assuring you he’ll only be a minute.

The music comes to a sudden stop, and the leader whirls around. She lifts a single eyebrow at you and places a hand on her hip. “Why are you back?”

“I wanted to say goodbye.” You’re now remembering why you were glad to join Stray Kids. “We’ve worked together for years and-“

“And?” Another member giggles and covers her mouth with her hand. “Bye.”

You blink back frustrated tears. “Oh, bye. I just- I- I thought we were friends.”

“What are we, children?” another one scoffs. “Go make friends somewhere else.”

You nod and murmur goodbyes and apologies, ducking out of the room. You can hear them still whispering about you, and you pull at your hair anxiously, feeling overwhelmed.

Someone bumps into you as you go down the hallway, and you just continue walking. There’s too many sounds and people and-

“Hey.” Chan forces your hands down from your hair, rubbing circles on the back of your hand to distract you. “Are you okay?”

You sniffle and wipe at your eyes. “Yeah. Can we go home?”

“Of course.” Chan retracts his hand, glancing over his shoulder in the direction you had come. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” You try to tug at your hair again, but Chan stops you. He gives you his fingers to fidget with as you both walk to the car.

“You sure?” Chan questions. “I mean, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but…”

“We just weren’t as close as I thought we were.” You shrug and roll Chan’s ring between your fingers. You focus on how it’s smooth, instead of your racing thoughts. “I- I’m fine.”

“Right.” Chan nods. “But if you aren’t fine, I’m here.”

And so you direct all your stress and negative thoughts into practise, over the next few days. The show’s performance is coming soon, and you need to be ready. You get to know your new group members and become familiar with the dynamics.

“This is going to be your debut with us!” Jisung realizes one day, turning to you excitedly. He whacks your arm over and over again until you respond. “The public doesn’t know about the transfer yet!”

“Yeah.” You twist the cap off your water bottle and take a sip. “I guess it is.”

“How’s the sleeping bag treating you?” Changbin asks as he walks by.

“It’s good,” you tell him. “I’m not too picky.”

“We’re getting our outfits today,” Hyunjin says to you. “For tomorrow’s performance.”

You can’t help but feel a flicker of anxiety at the reminder. You’re excited to debut with a new group, but there’s also all the ways this could go wrong. What if you don’t look good with them? What if you mess up?

“You’ll do great,” Felix brightly tells you, somehow sensing your nerves. You don’t know how he does it.

You grin at him gratefully, already thinking ahead to what your costume might be. You honestly just want to look cool. Maybe they might even give you a prop!

You could picture yourself with like a machine gun.

Even though that doesn’t fit into the choreography.

But instead, you find yourself in tight pants and a crop top. It’s not the worst, even though the boys are all mostly covered. But… Is this really your best look?

“Oh, you look so good!” Jeongin gushes, clapping his hand together enthusiastically. He fusses over you for a moment, talking about how fantastic you look.

Maybe this outfit is alright.

“You’re right,” Minho quietly says to Jeongin. “She looks good.”

“Is everyone ready?” Chan stands in the doorway, arms crossed. You’re instantly reassured about your outfit, considering he’s also showing some… cleavage? You’re not sure what to call it.

Chest. Yes, chest is the word.

Seungmin rolls out his neck, adjusting the headpiece he’s wearing. “Let’s do this.”

You feel excited, for once. Usually when you preform you’re overwhelmed by a sense of dread. But this… You might even enjoy this.

Your movements are fluid, and the performance goes well. You work well with your new group, even finding yourself smiling as you take your ending bow.

“Nicely done,” Chan tells you as you file off the stage. He offers his hand to you as you go down the stairs, and you take it gratefully.

You wobble on your heels a bit. “Thanks. I liked that.”

“So you’re staying with us?” Chan questions, raising an eyebrow. “I could start looking for something other than a sleeping bag.”

“Yes please,” you happily say, glancing ahead to where the rest of the group is. Hyunjin and Seungmin are bickering about something, while Jisung, Felix, and Minho are trying to get Changbin to try a dress on that they stole from the dressing room. Jeongin is volunteering to wear the dress over and over again, but no one is listening.

And you can’t help but feel at home. More so than before with your other group, and more than you thought you ever would.

Taglist:

@velvetmoonlght @jinnie-ret @hansmic @imeverycliche @iwuberic @strawberryscentedd @mbioooo0000

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #Bang Chan’s cleavage

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hazzabeeforlou · 1 month ago

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Hey everyone; this post has been a long time coming. Most of you know I’ve been a ghost on here for a while, but recently I’ve felt the need to make my step back more official and give it a little closure. That of course led me down the rabbit hole of thinking over the past nine years of my life, and I realized yet again the impact this fandom, these boys, and this space has had on me, and I wanted to memorialize that.

Nearly nine years ago I suffered a traumatic physical emergency which stuttered my whole life course, and through the depressive year that followed I somehow stumbled upon Harry Styles. I had a normal tumblr back then, but by spring and summer of 2017 I had fallen down the Larry hole and become this. Alone and dealing with trauma and pain, I spent countless hours in this community writing fan fic, discovering my sexuality, unpacking religious trauma, working through issues and ideas I had never encountered and just… changing. I went back and looked at a couple of my fics recently, and I realized I never really wrote about “the boys;” I used the boys to write about me. That’s the gift that fandom gives you, a template to draw out any poison in your soul, bind it to paper, and sip it slowly with others, and as it’s shared it transmutes to a tonic that heals you, maybe also heals them, somehow. I don’t really know how to tell people that the biggest force for change and recovery in my life over the past decade was a boyband fandom where everyone believes Harry Styles is married to Louis Tomlinson, but it’s true.

You all healed me. Every comment left on my fics, every kind ask sent, every mutual squealing with me in the tags. I’ve loved you all, I miss you all. I wish I had the time and energy to stay engaged still; truth is, I’ve pivoted to the career I never thought I’d get to have, and I have it now, because of you. I wouldn’t be where I am today without this space, without you all. I’m so thankful. I’m so sad to see this era of my life fading away, to feel myself care less and less with that excited, lovely gut feeling whenever a new picture of the boys pops up. I don’t know if I’ll write Larry fic again, but I hope so, someday. One thing is for sure, I’ll never stop believing they were or are in love. That is a formative revelation that changed how I saw life for the better.

I’ll not stop writing, either. I’m going to publish PITS, someday, in some iteration. I’m writing my own stories now, things I’ve wanted to imagine since high school. I’m still excited about the boys’ music, and I can’t wait for new albums to drop. I might pop in from time to time to watch the frantic excitement of my dashboard, to see the names of old friends from what now seems like a past life. Sometimes it hurts to turn the page and admit an era is over, but I think I’ve known for a long time now that my part of the story here is at an end. I hope you all keep enjoying the magic, the fun, the friendship, the Big Bang’s, the drama. And I’m not disappearing altogether, I’ll check in from time to time.

No need to reblog this or anything, but I want to hug and thank @twopoppies @metal-eye @chotime @whiteknightonasteed @evilovesyou @reminiscingintherain @roseandbee @unicornamy @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @indiaalphawhiskey @iamasphodelknox @old1ddude @pop-punklouis @phdmama @pfromb @ahotknife @strangenewfriends @definegirlfriends @freddiesmyqueen @golddustdyke @genuinemusic @justalittlelouislove @knightchanges @kindofsharethat @kingsofeverything @louisandthedagger @lululawrence @cathuniverse @cuethetommo @crinkle-eyed-boo @bulletprooflarry @becomeawendybird @briannamarguerite @nottooldforthisship @maleksrami @mediawhorefics @always-aqua @haztobegood @thewhitecitrus

I’m sure I’ve left off many more changed urls and lovely friends.

Wishing you all the best of life, love, and springtime.

Always,

Toni <3

#mine #update

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realcube · 10 months ago

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mornings with tsukishima are always interesting.

he gets weekends off, but you still have to work on saturday. meaning that on sunday mornings, he is able to get up early and rises with the sun, meanwhile you want nothing more than a nice, long sleep in.

although he would never admit it, tsukishima loves spending his day with you and gets a bit lonely and bored having to spend sunday mornings without you. he has no issue with you wanting to sleep in, in fact you deserve it more than anyone, but now it's 11AM. that is just ludicrousness! if you sleep any longer, the whole day together will be virtually gone.

that's what he tells himself as he makes his way to your shared bedroom and draws the curtains wide open, so the harsh sunlight pierces your eyes, causing you groan. instinctually you flip yourself over so you are facing away from the window.

he smirks at this and tugs at your shoulder, "rise and shine, buttercup." normally that would be sweet thing to hear as you wake up, but tsukishima says it in the most mocking tone possible.

frowning, you jerk away from his touch, "no.."

he chuckles at your complaint and prods your cheek, "yes. it's almost 12PM." he lies, looking at the clock on your bedside table that clearly says 11.13AM, "most functioning members of society have already woke up, got dressed, had breakfast and gone to work. and you're still in bed."

"i was a functioning member of society yesterday. let me be a potato today." you whimper, dearly clutching the bedsheets and using them to sheild your eyes from the bright rays of sunlight. so cute, he thinks to himself. it pained him to disturb you like this; a part of him wanted to let you stay in bed all snug and cozy, and sleep to your heart's content.

but the bigger part of him missed you greatly, and also loved to tease and annoy you. "no. get up." he yanked the blanket off you, to which you gasped as the cold air washed over your exposed figure. you pout, without the energy to try and wrestle the dvuet back, you instead curl up in an attempt to preserve body heat. "fuck off, kei!" you yell.

"to where? you're in my house." techincally 'our' house, but he called it his own for dramatic effect.

"to the cosmetics clinic for a facelift." you spat, body trembling under the nippy air, but eyelids still heavy as you try to drift back off to sleep.

"yeah. maybe while i'm there i can ask about getting you an attitude transplant." he rolls his eyes, throwing the covers back over you, to which you sigh from relief. he couldn't stand seeing you so vulnerable and shivering, even if you were just playing it up.

angry and defeated, he rushes over to the door while saying, "this is what i get for wanting to spend the morning with you."

"kei.." you whine, outstretching your arm from underneath the covers, doing a grabbing motion at him, "come here."

he exhaled out his nose and walked up to your side of the bed, crossing his arms as he stood next to you, gazing down at your sleepy face. he tried to exhibit his best scowl but seeing your half-lidded eyes and cheeks flushed with morning warmth forced a small smile to creep over his lips. "what?"

you pat the space beside you on the bed, and whisper, "cuddle."

your heavy eyes slowly fell closed, as your cheek was pressed against the silk pillowcase and strands of your hair fell into your face. he didn't move or say a word, until he gently tucked the stray stands behind your ear, subtly caressing your cheek with his thumb as he did so.

how'd he get so lucky, he wonders, getting to sleep beside the prettiest person on earth every single night. perhaps that is something he takes for granted, sometimes.

but not today. he walks over to the other side of the bed and climbs on, shuffling over so he right behind you, then he slips an arm around your waist.

with his face pressed against the back of your hair, you feel him smile against your skin when you move your hand to interlock fingers with his.

you'd apologise for telling him to fuck off, and he would say he's sorry for trying to wake you up, but neither of you really had to. with the he holds you close in his firm hold, and the way you melt into his touch, it's needless to say you love each other.

#tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima x you #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima fluff #tsukki #haikyuu tsukishima #kei tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima x you #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 2 months ago

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Hey! So this isn't a particularly exciting ask or anything, but I'm sending it bc I literally do not know who irl I can talk to.

Basically, my boyfriend and I (both virgins) tried having sex for the first time tonight, and it pretty much didn't work. It was kind of horrible and awkward, which was expected, but really it just didn't get anywhere at all. First the condom broke when he tried to put it on, which freaked him out so he couldn't get hard again. And we didn't really know how to just /start/ so we tried just going for it, but he, like, couldn't get his dick into my vagina? Which I'm pretty sure is not a me thing because I've fingered myself before just fine.

Anyways, we kind of just called it quits after kissing for a while, and now I just don't really know what to make of the whole experience. I want to have sex but rn I'm not even really sure if I want to try again. It was just so mortifying and unfun. Do you have any advice whatsoever?

hi anon,

oh boy! here are a few crucial points that jump out to me:

if the condom is breaking just from trying to put it on, something is wrong. the condom might be too small, or it may have been expired (which can make it brittle), or it may have been stored in a space that was too hot or too cold and weakened the condom's integrity. your boyfriend's nails may have had sharp edges that damaged the condom. maybe he just did a spectacularly bad job putting it on! review the best way to put a condom on together for better results next time.

you boyfriend's penis being flaccid definitely wasn't helping to make penetration any easier! generally speaking, you're going to want the penis to be erect for that.

everyone has different preferences, of course, but it's often helpful to do literally anything else prior to putting something directly in the vagina. kissing, cuddling, touching each other's genitals with hands, mouths, or any other body part you desire, etc. particularly for vaginal penetration, giving yourself time is helpful: it gives the vagina time to lubricate as well as for the process of tenting, during which the cervix and uterus draw back to create more space in the vaginal canal. much in the same way that you (probably) can't just stick a finger into your vagina without any warning or lube and have an enjoyable sexual experience, you need time to get ready with a partner.

having said all of that: this was your first time doing this. very few people are great at things on their first try. the first time I tried rollerskating outside I fell over a million mortifying times where all my neighbors could see. the first time I tried to cook chicken flautas I accidentally smoked up my kitchen so badly that my housemates and I had to temporarily evacuate our home while it aired out. the only way you learn how to do things is by fucking them up a few times. that's the most normal thing in the entire world.

try again or wait a while, whatever you prefer, but know that you're not missing out on some secret hack to have Perfect Cool Guy Sex that everyone knows but you. the way that good sex happens, which to me just means mutually enjoyable and comfortable sex, is by understanding that sex is a fundamentally messy and silly endeavor and finding someone with whom you can laugh through the dumb shit.

#sex edventures 2025

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aae-tuu · 4 months ago

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With Your Hand In Mine, This Place Could Be So Divine. But Only If You’re Here With Me

Ft: Till (alien stage, gn!reader, he hates that he loves you, slight angst(?), Till is in denial, Till is Till so 911 help?, childhood friends to lovers? ish…maybe?, 2nd POV, idk how Anakt garden works, might be a multiple part series idk)

Till glances down at his sketchbook as his pencil gently glides along the paper, making the shape of someone familiar.

It was supposed to be a sketch of the flowers in the garden, with delicate line art that would depict the blooming petals accurately. However, today, like most days, he can’t concentrate.

It's your fault. Somehow, everything has been your fault recently. He constantly finds himself staring at you, his mind wandering, his heart beating just a bit too fast for his liking.

His eyes flicker up to look at you, the way you’re sitting not too far away from him, making a flower crown without a care in the world, and he quickly looks away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

He is currently going through the five stages of denial and/or grief or whatever it was called in the book he glanced over.

At first it was denial of course.

It was not possible. Absolutely impossible.

He doesn’t like you like that. He doesn’t!

And then anger for feeling these dumb feelings.

He doesn't even know when these damn feelings developed and he’s absolutely furious about it.

Then comes bargaining.

Bargaining with who though??

God?!

But he doesn't even believe in God.

He even offered to give away his favorite guitar if some higher power could get rid of these feelings, but alas, nothing has changed.

He's so sick of you being on his mind all the time.

And now he has finally reached the lowest point in the 5 stages: Depression.

He's full on depressed now.

Which is why he's currently sitting against the tree trunk, feeling sorry for himself and cursing his brain for being stupid enough to fall for you as he continued to draw your face once again in his sketchbook.

You were taking up too much space.

He turns his head slightly to look at you again. His eyes linger just a bit longer than they usually do, and his lips part a bit as he watches you work.

And then his eyes flicker down your lips.

The more time he spends looking at you, the more he feels his heart rate quickening, and is that a butterfly in his stomach?

The horror.

And then you just had to turn your head to look at him.

Till jolted, quickly averting his gaze, turning his body 180 degrees away from you. His face flushed a bright red, and it was hot and he felt shaky and his breath was running out and his thoughts were running faster than normal, they’re jumbling out and he can’t seem to slow them down to understand what they’re really trying to say and-

“Till?” Your voice snaps him out of his train of thought.

He looked up, teal eyes meeting your own as you crouched down in front of him, tilting your head curiously.

———————

he read acceptance is the last stage

and as he made eye contact with you, holding your gaze

that’s when he finally got past the depression stage and dove right into the last stage without his consent

his heart making the choice, leaving his brain scrambling to try and function again

This all I got so far

@aniriva

#alien stage #alien stage x reader #alnst till #alien stage till #alnst x reader #alnst #till x reader #alnst till x reader #alien stage till x reader #gn!reader

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astra-ravana · 6 months ago

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Mirror Magick Applications

Mirrors are a big part of our lives. Mirrored surfaces, both man-made and natural exist almost everywhere. Every culture has myths regarding mirrors and I'm sure some of these we have all heard. Such as breaking a mirror is worth seven years of bad luck, that you shouldn't keep them in the bedroom, or to cover all your mirrors after someone dies, so their soul isn't trapped. Mirrors are more than just shiny bathroom fixtures, they are literal portals and amplifiers with several magickal utilities.

Trapping Energy by Charging Mirrors

Mirrors can be used to 'trap' the energy of any setting you find particularly powerful. For example: leaving your mirror close to the ocean waves or in a dark forest overnight. It will absorb the potent natural energies, then you can use the mirror in late workings as you please.

Lunar magick is another area where mirror work is ideal. Place a few mirrors under the moon to charge them with the energy of that phase. If you want to use them for a specific purpose, consider marking them with a symbol or sigil. When you need the energy of the moon, or a moon phase, you can access it as needed by using an appropriately charged mirror.

Amplification

Mirrors, like crystals, can help to amplify the power of your spells ans rituals. Keeping a mirror on your altar can bolster and increase the success of your workings. Just as focused sunlight on a mirror ignites a fire, focused magick will ignite a spell. Make sure your spell components are reflected, or better yet, perform the working on top of a mirror, to substantially increase its power.

Scrying and Accessing Other Realms

When correctly utilized mirrors can be used to access messages and visions that we wouldn't normally be able to connect with. Scrying is an ancient divinatory magick that is often used as a form of fortune-telling. Traditionally, a lot of scrying was done with water, the ancient Celts and Greeks even practiced this form of divination. Mirror scrying is an evolution of these water oracles, with historical practitioners like the famous John Dee, who used highly polished silver, brass, mercury, or obsidian.

Scrying wit mirrors can be particularly powerful due to the idea that your reflection is the manifestation of your soul. When viewing your reflection, if you're well in tune with yourself, you can ask your soul questions regarding your life and development or even open up the door to another dimension entirely. Mirrors can be enchanted and sigified into being gateways in and of themselves.

Many scrying mirrors are black because one's own reflection can be rather distracting. The traditional material of a black mirror is obsidian, however you can craft your own by painting one side of a piece of glass black. Picture frames are great for this. A black mirror is the best option for scrying as you won't be distracted by your own features, leaving you open to interpret your visions.

Banishing

Mirrors, as reflective surfaces and magickal conductors, are often used in banishing spells. Banishing magick can be used when someone is directing negative energy your way or you're being harassed. In this case, a mirror can be used to return bad energy back to the person who sent it.

Banishing magick can be a wonderful tool when applied to bad habits or negative thoughts as well. To banish an idea or behavior, encant something akin to: "[what you're banishing] you've caused me pain, I banish you, now stay away. Mirror help to reflect my plight, and keep [what you're banishing] out of sight". Keep the mirror close to you in order to protect you from what you're banishing.

Defense

Mirrors are also an incredibly effective defensive tool. They can deflect any negative energy, ill intent, or malevolent spirits sent your way. By placing mirrors in areas where you need the most protection, you can repel any unwanted energy trying to infiltrate your space. For added potentcy, draw a protective sigil/symbol on the mirror and/or place a protective crystal in front of it.

Hexenspiegal: The Witch's Mirror

A hexenspiegal is a small mirror used as a protective charm to reflect away baneful/attack magick, the evil eye, and other bad omens and intentions, as well as return the energy back to its sender. Its basis is in German folk magick. Translated, it means "witch's mirror". Hexenspiegals may be suspended from cords, fastened to walls, or, in the case of small ones, worn as jewelry. You can make your own by cleansing, decorating (optional), and sigifying/enchanting a small mirror to your intent.

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lazywrites · 1 year ago

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nsfw alphabet w/ Cyclops aka.Scott Summers

Scott Summers x afab reader/ Minors please don't interact/ NSFW so please be aware

If tumblr blasts me for the art (which is made by me as well) i will repost it without the drawing

A= Aftercare (what are they like after sex?)

Scott’s aftercare is top notch, on the right occasion of course, Scott is a busy man but when he takes the proper time to be with you, his undivided attention is a gift within itself.

If this is a quickie kind of situation Scott will make sure you are okay first of all, get your clothes in order and wipe the mess he’s made on both you and the random couch he’s chosen for the occasion and make sure you both are inconspicuous enough when its time to leave the room, provided your legs are steady enough to leave, maybe he’ll keep you company until then.

If this is a warm spring night where you are both alone in your own space, oh boy, he’ll go all out with his aftercare, expect a cool glass of water and some pleasant conversation until you are ready to hit the showers with him, but if you’re not careful it might all lead to you needing some more aftercare.

B= Body part (their favorite body part and also their partner's)

It would be cliché to say ‘’your eyes’’ but to Scott it is important to look others in the eye, he is a leader and his perception on every person he meets matters more than anything else, he can assess a threat to his Family just by looking it in the eye. And your eyes, so full of honesty and genuine love for him, he knows you and he can tell how you feel just by looking you right in the eyes even for a moment. But on another note, Scott’s eye is Always drawn to your cleavage, big or small, toned or soft, he’s gonna glance at it even if its just a sliver of skin exposed in the area and he’s instantly drawn to it when its exposed,laying his head on the softest parts of you, kissing and marking up your breasts with small hickeys, nothing too excessive, he doesn’t want anybody else to pay attention to you like that.

On himself, well, Scott is built like a God, he makes sure to keep up with a strict regime and stay in top shape always, it is important to his protection as well as your own. But i’d say he is very pleased with his shoulders, his intense training paid off, his shoulders are broad, Strong and dependable and you know it, and he knows that you know it, there is nothing better for him than having you on his lap, hands on his shoulders and nails lightly scratching them as you ride him. He enjoys being depended on enough but when you show your concern with him by rubbing the tension from his shoulders and back? He’ll be in cloud nine for a few moments, Scott has the weight of the world on his shoulders most of the time, but when you put your hands on him, he can’t bring himself to hate it at all.

C= Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

God, Scott can get messy with it, as clean and tidy as he wants to portray himself as, he is obsessed with your wetness and laps it up like his life depends on it, he’ll want to hear every wet noise he can produce from you before drinking it all up himself, as soon as he gets a chance he’ll dip his fingers into your underwear and drench his hand in your juices until its all damp enough that you’ll have to take it off for a while, that way you’ll just have to give him a taste.

Scott cums a lot on a normal day, if you haven’t done it more than once that day his orgasm is guaranteed to be long and satisfying, maybe it’ll help with the tension for a while until the next problem comes along. Takes a while to make Scott cum for the first time, but after that if you have enough time to tease him, he’ll be more sensitive to your touch and cum faster, but it all depends on you, quantity wise its plenty, thick and messy too, as messy as Scott will make it that is, he loves to get your body sticky with it, be it your chest, your face, or your underwear sticking to your thighs all day.

D= Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret or their's)

He’s very discreet with it, but you know him well enough to know, he’d love to have you at his mercy, cuffed or tied up so he can take as much pleasure as he wants from you for hours and hours, until your body is sticky and sore, eyes full of tears of pleasure. He never vocalizes his desires in an overt way but it is noticeable to you especially when he takes your wrists into his hand and pins them above your head, if you decide to allow it and just let it happen you’ll see the change, on his breathing, on his expression. Becoming just a little more desperate than it was before, on the way his hips smack forcefully into your own, harder and faster, and you know you got him, or maybe he’s got you.

Scott is sort of a voyeur, he loves to watch you and thinks about it constantly, to the point of riling himself up just thinking of it, the visage of you pleasuring yourself right in front of him, just for him to watch is burned into his mind and he goes back to that moment constantly. Scott is having a boring conversation? He’ll keep nodding and humming pretending that there is not a ghost of you right behind that person, looking right at him and teasing him like some hyper-realistic hallucination, he’ll do his best to contain it (or ‘’you’’) around any known telepaths though, he is trying to be discreet after all.

E= Experience ( how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He does have plenty of experience, even while he was younger he’s been around, had a fair share of girls and some boys waiting for him, asking for dates and sending valentine presents, Scott is and has always been very popular, even with non mutants. But he won’t just get with anyone of course, he’s taken his time to intimately know every person he’s been with and they have friendly relationships to this very day, as messy as his relationships can get they have taught him a lot about intimacy and trust, and all his experience is put to good use between both of you.

F= Favorite position (No visuals this time, sorry, tumblr will probably kick me for the visual right above anyway)

Good old Missionary and we all expected it, might be cliché but its common for a reason, and as much as he loves to try all he can think of with you, Scott can get all the benefits from this position he could possibly want, he can plant both his hands on your knees and spread you as wide as you can go just to look at the mess you have both made, as well as go back and forth between watching your blissed out expression and his thick cum leaking out of you, and tease you for it with his little smirk, of course.

In second place is a mating press, the intimacy of it, being pressed up tight against your softness, face to face so he can know how much the pressure of his body on yours is affecting you and hearing your desperate hums and moans while he presses up against your soft spots, all the way inside almost balls deep from the weight, there’s just something special about it to Scott, and he always promises himself to do it more often.

G= Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Scott is not very goofy in general, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a sense of humor, he is more charming than goofy though, he’d rather leave the comedy for later, but in compensation he will tease you, he’s good at getting a reaction out of his partners and enjoys a bit of banter before things heat up too much, that is, before you become completely incoherent.

H= Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He is not very hairy in general, it would take him a lot of time to have a proper beard, Scott likes to keep himself clean and tidy all over, most of his body is either clean shaved or has very sparse hair, and that results in a light and dusty happy trail with very well trimmed hairs.

He likes to think it makes it easier to dress up in his spandex suit, slides easier or whatever.

I= Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Scott is a gentleman most of the time, he is very considerate of you and your needs and makes sure that he won’t be selfish, not like that is much of a worry though, your pleasure is his own and he could get off just watching you enjoying yourself and having your orgasm.

He might not be declaring himself over and over but things always get romantic between both of you, even with his glasses on the way Scott loves to press himself against you, your forehead on his own face to face during sex, he also loves to rest his head on your chest and just enjoys the feeling of your body on his own so much he can hold you tight against him for hours, his favorite thing after he cums is just holding you to his chest and feeling your warmth, he’ll rarely say but his in these moments his heart also feels warmer than before.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’d rather not be apart from you if the option is available, but as i’ve mentioned your ‘’ghost’’ is always haunting him throughout the day and making him feel all sorts of dirty, he can keep his urges under control pretty well most of the time unless you are there to ruin his composure and leave him hanging, he’ll try to will away his erection to be able to at least wait until you’re back, but at some point it becomes obvious you’ve got him unravelling completely and he needs to get his body under control, he’ll just have to give in and make himself cum without you, shame.

If its a long mission taking you away from him or him from you he’ll try to focus on his duties as team leader to keep the ghosts away, the harder he Works that day the bigger the urge to see you becomes until he has to fish out that old picture you gifted him as a ‘’reminder’’ not to stop thinking of you no matter where he is, he knows what you want him to do with it and he tries not to, checking around the blackbird for the thousandth time and trying to strike up some innocent convos with his team, but the picture, its just calling out to him, one peek won’t hurt, right?

K= Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Scott won’t outright tell you what his kinks are, even if you ask he’ll say he never really stopped to think about it, but its very well established he has a thing for bondage, not hardcore bondage, but Scott loves to be trusted and thrives with admiration, knowing that you trust him completely with your body does Wonders for his ego inside and outside the bedroom. He’ll be very pleased to receive a package only to check and see the beautiful red ropes and blindfold, your way to invite him for a night out, just the two of you.

Like all heroes Scott can appreciate a good spandex suit, spandex and leather are his go to if you asked him about it, the skimpier on you the better, and if you are creative enough to whip up a Cyclops cosplay borrowing one of his glasses and some blue and yellow lingerie you found on some themed sex shop he’ll be very very curious about it, and concerned, concerned enough to throughly check if your uniform is up to code...

You cannot convince me there aren’t superhero themed sex shops.

L= Location (favourite places to do the do)

Scott has a mostly pristine reputation, and he worries about it, as much as he loves to fantasize about fucking you in every place you are both together he knows its impossible with anyone else around and there are plenty of people around the manor most of the time, sadly the only place he can guarantee you are alone is the bedroom and a few sparse rooms here and there in specific times of the day, Scott takes all the precautions he can, locking the door every time things get heated between him and you, he would be absolutely mortified to be caught.

M= Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

For Scott, having sex is a good way to unwind and be close to you at the same time, one thing facilitating the other, you are his comfort most days when things get hard, you’re always there for him providing support and he will take you everywhere he goes if possible. And you know Scott Summers is a man ready to take responsibility all the time, he is a trusted leader and people look for him every time there is a problem and for mutants most days there are problems, he’s always in action, so every time you can both relax and take comfort is each other is very beneficial to him.

After a long day, he can feel the effect your body has on him, the good it does to him, and it makes him a little emotional that you always know how to support him and be there for him, sometimes even a bit of a heartache, he might feel as if he’s not doing the same for you, but of course you’ll be there by his side always to reassure him that your heart belongs to him just as much as his to you, you’ll both struggle together to pull each other up.

N= No (something they wouldn’t do)

He won’t take off his glasses or blindfold around you and refuses to degrade you, he’s seen enough degradation for a lifetime and doesn’t want it to be with you, never you.

Scott is fine with light spanking, but of course will never hurt you or bruise you, he’d be absolutely mortified if you got hurt enough to bleed in any way, he just wouldn’t enjoy sex in that kind of way and would be constantly worried.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Scott will eat you up like a man starved, he’s sloppy with it too as much as he denies it he likes to get messy with your pussy and you better be ready for it, every time he pulls the same old move of feeling you up under your underwear and getting his fingers coated in you he’s absolutely going to taste you on his own hands once he’s done, sticking out his tongue and licking his fingers like they’re a lollipop, putting on an unintentional show, and most of the time, of course its not enough and he needs more of you straight from the source, kneeling before you, on the bed or you sitting on his face, either way he’s getting what he wants without complaints, Scott’s tongue seems to have a life of its own in those times, he’ll move it like he’s truly thirsty for you, taking a few moments in between to kiss and lick at your clit, enjoying the softness and making out with you in a way you didn’t think it was previously possible.

You, of course, need to return the favor in kind, and as much as he likes to pretend to resist and say its not needed, his resistance is futile and he’ll fold almost immediately, laying back or sitting in bed or in a couch he’ll let you lick and suck at him as much as you want, depending on the ocasion you will see Scott Summers fully relaxed for a moment, and its beautiful, those are the times where he pretends there is nothing wrong in the world, nothing to worry about and simply enjoys the pleasure you give him, he’ll try to contain his groans and moans as much as he can but soon his focus will be pulled from that too. Scott’s inner thighs are surprisingly sensitive, you found, and of course you leave plenty of marks on his beautiful thighs, dangerously close to his balls, he won’t be in the state of mind to complain anyway.

He knows you can get shy, but he loves to see you take his cock in your throat or kissing and licking at his tip, he’ll sneakily stop throwing his head back to look at you when he thinks you’re distracted.

P= Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Scott can keep it very steady during sex, impressively consistent too, but thats just his unwavering sense of discipline and with some effort his pace will change up depending on what you do or say, if you tease him and get him desperate his thrusts will be noticeably faster and more sloppy, but if he’s teasing you he’ll go slow and you and try to get you desperate for it, desperate enough to beg him and stroke his ego a little bit, just how he likes it.

But of course you can change things up and take him by surprise, he’ll be impressed if you decide to be on top and will take time to worship your body and just observe you, he’ll run his hands up and down all over you and when his hands are not enough to satiate his needs he’ll worship you with gentle kisses and licks all over your throat and chest. Some days when he’s pent up he might decide to take you a bit more forcefully than usual, holding you tight so you can barely move and moving his hips with a force that leaves you rattled by the end of it, he’ll try and apologize but there is nothing wrong with a little roughing up sometimes, you’ll say.

Q= Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often)

You’d think a man so busy would not have much time for quickies, but Scott is surprisingly easy to entice, and you know his ticks, its child’s play to you.

If you tease him a little bit through the morning, just a little, enough for the team not to say anything, even that will get him a little overwhelmed and you can take pride in knowing thoughts of you will be tormenting him throught the day, that familiar ghost is back to haunt him even when you’re not there. You can meet back with him on the afternoon and a just a little light quip from you will be enough to break his resolve, he’ll find an excuse for the others and call you to a room he knows is empty at the time just so he can say he’ll give you what you want (its what he wants really,we all know it) but he can play shy all he wants, you know what you did and you won’t regret it in the slightest.

R= Risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks)

He’s not much for risk, i’m sorry to inform, his life is basically pure adrenaline and he likes to feel safe with you as much as possible, not to say he won’t try any kinks you suggest, he’s open to new things as long as they’re not dangerous or painful for either of you and will do his best to satisfy you while keeping you safe.

S= Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

Depends on what he’s been doing before honestly, Scott is always up and running its no wonder his energy is limited, but he’ll always have one or two rounds in for you, he would absolutely refuse to leave you unsatisfied, but these one or two rounds are pretty amazing and more than enough for you, of course. On better days where he’s rested he can go pretty much all night long with you, there is nothing else he’d rather do than spend the whole night worshipping and being worshipped by his love.

T= Toy (do they own toys? do they use them?)

Scott doesn’t own any toys himself, well you can gift him that rope and blindfold but they don’t really count as toys, Mr.Summers is too serious and important (embarrassed) to be seen in some downtown sex shop or ordering toys online, so i’m sorry, that task will fall to you and you don’t mind much, the sex shops are fun but he will make you keep your new toys hidden or locked up in a drawer, he’s scared of anyone finding them for some reason, honey its okay, no one’s looking.

He’s open to using them on you and watching you use the toys on yourself, perhaps you can even convince him to let you use them on himself, he’ll deny a bit but you already know you can easily convince him, just put on a little show and he won’t resist.

U= Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Scott doesn’t tease much, he’d rather see your blissed out face for as long as he can but that doesn’t mean he’ll never tease you, but those instances are rare and honestly that just turns you on ever more, you understand his innuendos pretty quickly and it’ll work even better with you if its in public, the fact that he went out of his way just to tease you in public, being who he is, is enough to have you ready to go.

He’ll do a bit of verbal play during sex, mostly just fishing for compliments, he might just stop halfway, cock still inside of you and fish for a few compliments before getting back to railing you into the matress, this time with renewed motivation.

V= Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

Scott is honestly not very loud, what he doesn’t have in volume he’ll unconsciously make up for in quantity, unless you’re not in an entirely safe place. He’ll groan and moan for you right in your ear, in the beginning he was embarrassed to do it, it was mostly involuntary at the time, but now? He knows you love it and he won’t deprive you from it unless you deprive him of your own pretty moans and goddamit does he sound good, raspy groans right from the back of his throat and light airy moans once in a while, its almost angelic to hear him like that, such a pretty song just for you.

W= Wild Card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Our mr.Summers is not very jealous, but he is pretty territorial over you, he’s not jealous in the classic sense and won’t think much of other people interacting with you, you two are a two in one deal and most people realize that, so if he realizes someone has a crush or is sweet on you he won’t do much about it nor say anything about it to you if you are not as observant as him, especially if your interactions with such a person are entirely innocent.

But if they’re not and such a person starts making more overt advances towards you, well, he just has to make himself known, he’ll be more affectionate in public, deliberately, sometimes even looking the person in the eye (not that they’d know, he’s always wearing glasses anyway ehh) which does not work, he won’t follow you like a puppy, but he will make it known for all others that he’s your guy, you get a bonus of more handholding, public affection and of course, more sex, he’s not doing it out in the open, but he’s noticeably more passionate with you, he’ll hold you tight against him and give you very noticeable hickeys that are somewhat difficult to hide, he’ll apologize a little after, so you won’t notice he’s doing it deliberately, so that person sees and knows he’s active with you, naughty naughty, but still is going to be embarrassed if anyone on his team comments or jokes about it, men are contradictory creatures.

X= X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

Scott is a big man, as such i’d put him at a good 20 to almost 21 centimeters, about 7 inches in total, and that is pretty big in my book, it is the reason why he keeps a consistent pace and insists on being gentle with you, he’s bigger than average and knows that it can hurt if he's not careful.

But his cock is a thing of beauty in your eyes, circumsised , fairly thick and with an almost red rosy blush all around, soft balls that feel so good in your hand, almost like velvet really, it also leaks a fair bit of precum that you love to take in your mouth whenever you can, its heavy and always feels perfect for you, as you love to remind him once in a while.

Y= Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

The man yearns, he yearns for you when you are away, not even necessarily for sex, he just feels incomplete without his lover by his side where you belong, and of course you won’t leave him alone even in his thoughts, whenever he’s distracted there is a fair chance he’s thinking of you, of your beauty as well as your kindness and your pussy of course, but he yearns mostly for the connection you two share, he’s never bored with you, sex is more than just a stress relief it is a connection he shares with you and a way to feel the bond both of you share physically, thats what it is to him, the love you both share brings him bliss.

Z= ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Scott might be tired and a bit worn by the end of the day, but he can share a bit of conversation with you before sleep, if that is what you desire he’ll make an effort to keep his eyes open as long as he can and offer some semi coherent commentary once in a while, however, when you lay and cuddle up to him under the sheets, especially if you allow him to rest his head on the softness of your chest, he’s a goner, won’t last more than five minutes awake, but that’s okay because its cute.

i can't believe its over, took me about 15 hours of nonstop work for my first true writing post, depending on the feedback this might become a series, i have lots of ideas in mind especially for the art. So please let me know what you think, feedback is very important and i will remind everyone who reads requests are open with me, so yeah, thanks for reading!

#x men headcannons #x men x reader #scott summers x reader #scott summers headcannon #xmen headcanon #alphabet writing #dummy draws #scott summers #cyclops #cyclops x reader

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prettyboykatsuki-moved · 11 months ago

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✮ tags ; afab!reader, pegging, dacryphilia, sub!sakura, mildly sadistic dom!reader, lots of dirty talk, 18+

It's too easy to make him cry, you think.

Sakura puts his hands in front of him as you fuck him on his back. You don't have the heart to tell him you've only gotten him half-way down onto your strap. With the way his eyes are blown out so wide, and the desperation he's pushing you away with - you somehow feel that'd be a little cruel.

"Does it hurt, Haru?"

He's spaced out as you ask him this. You let your free hand cup his face, watching his expression with warmth. Fondness bleeds into your gaze as you draw your thumb along his bottom lip, watching it tremble so helplessly. A new wave of shame has him curling in on himself - pulling away from you again.

So cute. So pathetic, and so terribly cute.

"Feels weird, feels so weird," He's stuttering when he says it. You thrust slightly, intentional, laughing as he gasps and lets his back arch slightly. "S-stop, don't move, don't."

"But it doesn't hurt, right?"

He shakes his head. You think it'd be odd if it did, considering all the time you've spent working him open to do this very thing. Despite Sakura's many protests and fits of shame, he always gives into your requests sooner rather than later.

It's a mix of inexperience and a natural knack for submission. Always blushing, doe-eyed, emotional. He's well suited to be pressed under your thumb and he plays the part better than most. Past relationships don't hold a candle to your Haruka. There's no performance when you dominate Sakura, no sense he's trying to appease you.

Not that you mind that kind of play either. But Sakura is a diamond in the rough. A natural born, gifted crybaby. Bullying him comes naturally and he always exceeds your expectation. Like something straight out of your worst, most perverted fantasies.

"No, but," He hiccups a little and he's still pushing you away. Impatient, you grasp his hands at his wrists and blink down at him. "It's weird, it's weird. I'm gonna become weird. I'm scared,"

You shiver. Try not to scare him off by letting him show how turned on you are by his distress. "It's not weird. If it doesn't hurt then that means you're feeling good right?"

"I'm not," He whines. He's out of it, you realize. Really truly, if he's allowing himself to act so embarrassing. Your lips twitch. "I'm not, it's—"

The complaints fall on deaf ears as you roll your hips and push into Sakura further. Deeper, both hands gripping on his waist and admiring him as you sink into his tight hole. He gasps again, nipples hardening in response to the arousal and cock drooling, as his throat closes around a moan. "It's okay if it feels good. It's normal. Guys have something inside them that lets them cum like this,"

He covers his face with his hands. Red down to his chest, he can barely managed to look at you. His hair is all messy too. It's hard not to lose control. If you pinned him up by his knees and fucked him now, you'd scare him too much for sure.

"I'm scared, I'm scared." He's trembling. You feel yourself get wet watching him. You draw a circle in his hips with your thumb, pulling his hands away as you lean down. Your foreheads touch. His skin is sticky from the sweat and his face is wet with tears.

"I wouldn't do anything bad to Haru-chan, right?" You mumble, trying to reason with him. "I only do things that feel good.

He frowns as he nods.

"Right. So don't be scared. Tell me where it feels good,"

"H-huh?"

You thrust yourself all the way in one last go. One last time, just to bottom out. Sakura's reaction is immediate. His stomach clenches, cock twitching hard - tip weepy red and pathetic, dribbling onto his stomach in a constant stress less than a spurt. You kiss his shoulder as you go deep. Using your hips to pin him under your weight, you push until it's all the way in and angle your thrusts up.

His voice shakes in your ear and you smile to yourself at the reaction. Nails digging into your arms, you can feel him underneath your weight. Feel his length pressed between your squished bodies, feel him tremble so violently. He likes it deeper than you thought he would.

"It's there, huh?" You hum, tender and faux-sympathetic. "It feels good deep inside for you."

"It's too much," His voice is so high. You've never heard it so pitchy, so broken in your life. "Won't stop just... feels... ngghh, please."

He does one violent shudder as you grind yourself deep into him, the indents of his nails certainly drawing blood with how hard he holds onto you. He's begging you please, but you're not sure what he's asking you for. You doubt he knows either.

You pull back to look at him. His eyes are wide in confusion, lips bitten red.

"Nothings coming out. I came but,"

Ah. You really want to break him. "You came from the inside. From having me inside of you. It felt that good, huh?"

"Idiot," His voice is watery.

"It's fine, it's fine," You whisper. "I'll take responsibility for it, so it's okay. Do you want me to make you cum more?"

You pull away to look at him. He's pissed. You're sure he'll complain to you later for making fun of him but he's too turned on for now to do it. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you smile at him and encourage him to answer.

"I hate you so much," He says. You feel wet drops of tears on your skin as he clings to you. "Just move already,"

He's cute when he's spoiled. You're really going to have to break him next time or you don't think you'll be satisfied. "Anything for my Haruka,"

#aristotle.txt #sakura haruka x reader #wind breaker x reader #sakura haruka smut #wind breaker smut #writing tag

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wing-ed-thing · 11 months ago

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... And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Part III

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 7.4k

Tags/Warnings: Naive!Servant!Reader, No Reader Pronouns, Canonically Mean Vinsmokes, But Reader is Kinda Into It, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Language, Reader Falls First, Yonji Falls Harder, Academic Discussion of Dark Themes, Suggestive Commentary

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

Notes: We're just doing a slew of fairy tale inspired Vinsmoke fics aren't we? Fun fact, the "the beast" doesn't refer to Yonji at all, but the size of these chapters ay yo! hahahahahaha... haha...ha

When Yonji requested you back in his quarters for his morning routine, you assumed that things were returning to what they were— that is, not normal. Rather than spending time in the archive just downstairs from the attic space where you made your sleeping area, you made directly for Yonji’s quarters just as the sun rose to prepare him for breakfast with the rest of the royal family.

Judge, for as pragmatic as he typically was, always gathered his four children for breakfast and dinner. A rather sentimental notion, the meals were held at strict times every week, and any excuse short of standing in an active war zone or teetering on the brink of death did not hold enough weight for any of the Vinsmoke children to be absent. No matter how spread out the fleet was on any given day, granted that no paid work was being tended to, the towers of all four children, the kitchen, and the throne room convened at least once a week.

You knocked on one of the double doors leading to Yonji’s bedroom, and as anticipated, you received no response. Yonji could sleep through a hurricane— and did once— but you didn’t want to risk the brutal punishment that would have come with walking in on him if he were miraculously conscious so early in the morning.

Light from the hall flooded into his bedroom as you opened the door, and the triangle of golden illumination dwindled as you closed the door behind you. The blackout lights were drawn exactly how you left them the night before as you crept through the darkness of the room.

You approached the curtain to the left of Yonji’s bed, drawing it to the side to brighten half of the room. Yonji’s sleeping form instinctually twitched as he buried himself farther into his luxury cotton sheets. You moved to the other side of the bed to draw the other curtain.

“Prince Yonji,” you called his name softly. Yonji grumbled something incoherent into his pillow. “It’s time to get ready for breakfast.” You turned to rifle through his wardrobe. His attire was the same for the most part, but Yonji liked seeing options.

You let the top cabinets close with a quiet thud. Yonji groaned again, tossing to face the opposite side of the room. He threw an arm up that smacked against his headboard. His covers fell to around his hip on his left side, exposing half of his bare chest. You kept your focus on the drawers of his wardrobe as you plucked out a few more articles of clothing.

You draped two of everything over your forearm and walked once more to the opposite side of the bed. Yonji lay with his eyes cracked open as you placed everything neatly on the end of the bed. You held up two white button-ups, one with a ruffled collar and one without. In his half-awake state, Yonji made a gesture to the shirt with the ruffles. You hooked the approved shirt’s hanger on your arm and placed the other one back at the end of the bed.

You did the same for his slacks, and by the time Yonji finally sat up on his own accord and threw his legs over the side of the bed, you had already established a complete outfit for the day. It hardly took Yonji a single yawn and a few complying motions before he was completely dressed, eyeing you as you knelt between his thighs to finish buttoning his shirt. You had been quick to slide a pair of pants over his briefs.

Even after all this time, the better part of your thoughts were painted on your face. Most of Germa, the royal family especially, was the furthest thing from shy when it came to nudity. Most of the soldiers shared tight quarters, after all, and the raid suits for the princes and the princess required complete disrobing before and upon use. While you hadn’t grown up in Germa yourself, you couldn’t help but secretly consider that the way in which you dressed Yonji in the morning alone was quite intimate, even for Germa’s standards. All of this, Yonji, of course, knew, but he never tired from getting a rise out of you, especially when the means were so simple.

You offered him his earphones, which he took and placed around the back of his neck before standing. You placed his rejected selections back in the wardrobe before turning to make his bed.

“Forget about that.” Yonji waved flippantly toward the messy bundle of sheets and blankets. “Go back to the library and prepare for my arrival. I’ll be there after breakfast.” He didn’t say anything else before walking out into the hall, leaving you to panic.

***

You didn’t quite understand what “prepare the library” meant, considering that your job mostly consisted of knowing what things were and where they were. (Given the infrequency of people taking books from the library archive, you hardly ever had to put books back that you didn’t take out yourself.) Even the custodial duties weren’t your responsibility, given that cleaning staff were sent to your snail every two weeks or so to manage the red carpets that lined the hall and dust the shelves. If anything, your most laborious work occurred every spring on archival week, so you weren’t exactly sure what you were meant to prepare.

You considered bringing down two tea cups and a pot of hot tea but swiftly decided that Yonji would likely not only be insulted but disgusted by such a low-quality product. Unsure of what to do, you collected your documentation from the archival week that occurred just a few months ago and meandered around the center of the large chamber awaiting Yonji’s arrival.

He came just as the sun outside began shining at full capacity. You stood in the center of the room on the intricately woven carpet below, with the files in your arms. Yonji hardly regarded you as he strode into the room before taking the door handles of the massive double doors in his hands to push them closed. Your breath hitched as he latched them, officially cutting off your only means of escape.

Yonji turned back to you, his brows furrowed at the paperwork in your arms.

“A detailed organizational account, Prince Yonji.” You politely dipped your head. Yonji’s mouth turned into a wide, closed-lipped frown as he approached you. When he stood just a short distance before you, he snatched the documents and threw them to the ground.

“Not necessary.” He circled you and stopped just behind you to give you a shove forward. “Go grab all the shit you’ve been reading.”

You swiveled your head back, “Um—?”

“You do everything I say with that stupid look on your face for months, but when I ask about your dumb interests, you go, ‘Prince Yonji, um’?” he mocked, imitating your expression with a pucker of his lips before they reverted back into a scowl. Yonji gestured toward the shelves that lined the walls. “Pull everything.”

“Yessir!” You nodded adamantly as you started toward the closest shelf. Yonji’s eyebrow shot up.

“What was that?”

“Yes, Prince Yonji,” you corrected, already taking a book from the shelf. You tried to spare a glance back at him, but the nervous smile that tugged at your cheeks made you turn back to the shelf quickly.

Even Yonji couldn’t hold his scowl for long, not when you had that gleam in your eyes.

***

He followed you with a closeness that made you conscious of your stride. You pulled a few selections from the shelves, glancing back at Yonji every so often for approval. He positioned himself as awkwardly as he could, trailing to your right and backing up as you slowly skimmed the walls. Yonji, as a rule of thumb, imposed himself wherever possible and least convenient.

With a few books piled in your arms, you wandered past an entire section of Sora comics. Germa 66, whether it be out of vanity or an unspoken sense of humor, boasted the entire running collection of Sora, Warrior of the Sea. Despite the thin volumes, the collection easily took over two long shelves. You hoped that Yonji wouldn’t notice your purposeful ignorance of the comics, but you supposed you couldn’t have been that lucky.

“Not a fan?” Yonji laughed. He placed a hand on one of the upper shelves and the other dipped into the left pocket of his slacks. He purposefully towered over you, not allowing you to move forward to the next section.

You didn’t think quickly enough to hide your expression. Yonji grinned.

“Go on.” He gestured to the collection with a jerk of his head. “I know you’ve read ‘em.”

You looked off to the side with a sheepish grin, and when you took too long, Yonji grabbed you by the sleeve of your shoulder and shoved you toward the shelf. Your reluctant fingers easily found the limited-edition volume somewhere in the middle of the compilation. Yonji snatched it from you the moment you began to pull it and laughed even louder than he had before, quickly yanking the comic from its clear plastic wrapping.

“You know I was fucking with you, right?” he bellowed with another quirk of his brows. An amused hissing teased through his teeth as he flipped through the glossy pages.

The publishing company had released a limited edition volume featuring Germa 66 in which the branding was overwritten from Sora, Warrior of the Sea, to Ichiro, Son of Germa. The short story that centered around Germa 66 commander “Ichiro” depicted a day in the life of the supervillains when they weren’t up to their sinister plots. The end of the comic even included some uncharacteristically heroic actions taken by the group. And while the edition had been clearly named after Ichiji, all four Vinsmoke siblings received a rather generous, albeit exaggerated, depiction. It experienced limited printing due to many complaints that a flattering depiction of Germa 66 was in poor taste.

“I grew up reading the Sora comics,” you said, trying to look anywhere else but Yonji. But even so, you could feel his eyes boring into you. Mischief painted itself on his face as he couldn’t help a mean smirk.

“So you are a fan,” Yonji teased. The comic fell closed. “Or maybe you’re trying to suck up to me.” Your eyes widened in just the way he liked.

“Oh, no, I’m not trying to—”

“Who’s your favorite?” His nose scrunched up in an overwhelming display of amusement. He held up the cover, which illustrated all members of Germa 66 with “Ichiro” in the center and Garuda’s silhouette in the background. The way he seemed to hunch over you didn’t escape you. Yonji drew a bit closer with one hand still propped against the shelves. There was only one right answer, or at least only one answer he would accept. “C’mon, you’ve gotta have a favorite.”

“My favorite?” You couldn’t even look at him. Yonji stared at you, his thorough enjoyment of your flustered state showing no sign of dissipating.

“Your go-to volume is the Ichiro edition? Yeah, you have a favorite.” Yonji laughed. He bobbed his head to himself before inching closer. “Want me to guess?”

He wasn’t going to let it go until you answered. You adjusted the stack of books in your arms, unconsciously treating them like a barrier. You sucked in a deep breath.

“Winch Green is my favorite.”

“HA! Wow, what a suck-up!” Yonji let out a roaring chuckle, finally straightening himself to stand at his full height again in self-satisfaction. Despite his rude words, that was the correct answer and it had been true. He eyed you incredulously when his laughter began to die down. “You weren’t born here. You came here a while ago, didn’t you? You really are a fan! That explains why you’re such a freak.”

You kept your eyes on the collection of neatly wrapped comics as Yonji cackled. You readjusted the stack of books in your arms again, unable to help your visibly flustered demeanor.

“Well…” You started, and your voice cracked. But like every other occasion when Yonji thought he had finally driven you to tears, you bent but didn’t break. “I owe a lot to Germa 66. You probably don’t remember, but you saved my country.” You nodded in accent, quirking your head slightly to the side.

It was a single moment, but you caught it. You caught the millisecond that the harsh crease between Yonji’s brows flattened and the way in which his cheeks fell just before he recoiled. What had phased across his face less than a second before contorted his features from amused wideness to narrowed and disgusted confusion.

“Cut it out with the sappy shit,” he snorted and turned on his heel to move onto another section of shelves, the comic still under his arm.

Yonji continued to hover as you made your way around the rest of the library. He started from a short distance away, but it didn’t take long before he practically floated right over your shoulder. Yonji hunched a bit, imposing himself over you as he studied your literary selections. And to your surprise, he remained mostly quiet, although every so often, you would select a book apparently so ridiculous it would cause Yonji to scoff.

Balancing a growing stack of texts against your chest, you reached up to grab another a few shelves above your head. Your fingers grasped at the spine, trying to pull it close enough to the edge. Yonji reached up and grabbed it with ease. You thought he was going to place it in your hand, but Yonji only scoffed, holding the book in front of his face to read the cover.

“Ancient Alabastian runes?” He squinted before quirking a brow at you. He waved the book in the air in accent. “You know how to read ancient Alabastian runes?”

“I taught myself a bit,” you admitted. Yonji was already thumbing through the pages with a shake of his head. His shoulders tensed upwards with a rude scrunch of his face.

“Why?”

“Well, the architectural accomplishments of the period are legendary. Not to mention the culture…”

Yonji’s chest jumped, a rude snort resounding from his nose.

“The world’s obsession with that desert wasteland is so rudimentary,” he sighed. You blinked at his word choice. Yonji flipped through a couple more pages with an exasperated shrug before snapping the book closed. “They build a few triangular buildings, so what?”

You almost laughed, “The pyramids that are considered an engineering marvel?”

“If you want to talk about culture, you should take more interest in Elbaf,” he said, his boyish rasp drawing out the syllables of the name. Yonji leaned his shoulder against the bookshelf, still holding the book of runes as he spoke. “The way the giants integrate all of their traditional rituals with modern ways of life is pretty insane.”

“How did I know you were going to say Elbaf?” A playful smile crept onto your lips, a stark contrast to Yonji's acute expression of offense. A mix between a grunt and a gasp stalled in his throat. “I read a little bit about turf construction, and I like the sustainable approach.”

“Beats thinking a pile of sand is pretty,” he sneered, but his words lacked true weight. He reached up to one of the taller shelves, scanning the selection with his tongue poking out from his lips before he finally found what he was looking for. Yonji placed the book on your stack, giving it a rude poke that nearly made you drop your collection. “Turf construction is interesting, sure, but if you’re interested in some actually impressive architecture, try that.”

Yonji pushed off from the shelf, meandering backward to a new section of books.

***

It took the two of you the better part of the day to make it through the room, and you had only rifled through the main chamber of the southern tower. None of your searches included scientific texts or specialized materials, just general topics and narratives. You still didn’t understand what Yonji was looking for, but considering the amount of time you spent in the main chamber, your examination of the thousands of books housed in that room alone should have been more than sufficient.

You had started on the lower level at the shelves to the right of the double doors, working your way around the side, up the stairwell, and around the balcony before descending the opposite stairs and ending up at the shelves to the left of the doors. Yonji had run a few stacks of books from the balcony down to the wooden table and at some point, began carrying the mass amount of books you pulled from the shelves.

He had had no issue with the sheer volume— it was, after all, what he asked of you in the first place— but the compilation you held began to slow you down and made scaling the rolling ladders impossible. Just as you made it to the bottom of the first set of stairs, Yonji snatched the unbalanced stack in your arms from you. He held them easily with one hand, along with the other two materials he carried.

“Why are servants so goddamn helpless?” he muttered before gesturing impatiently for you to continue.

Yonji could hold more than triple the amount of books you could, having little issue carrying three stacks by himself until they were piled up over his chin. And while the scoffing didn’t cease, every so often, Yonji would match one of your selections with one of his own.

He had placed The Technological Evolution of Combating Summer Island Summers: Tradition, Astrological Patterns, and Scientific Discovery on top of the stack in his arms shortly after you had pulled another book on Alabasta.

“There are more interesting islands out there than Sandy Island, but if you really like the place, you might as well read the stuff that’s actually interesting,” he sighed before quickly moving along.

Stacks of books littered the long table below, and you allowed yourself to sit down for the first time in hours. The plates from lunch still sat at the far end of the table. Yonji’s lunch, not yours— you didn’t get one— although he requested enough food for two or three people.

The cook aboard the archival snail nearly had a heart attack.

“The prince wants lunch here?” He nearly passed out on the spot. The cook, after all, was assigned to the least-frequented snail in the entire fleet and hadn’t had to face feeding the royal family before. Even during archival week, all members of the royal family typically brought their own crews and, by extension, their own cooks. During all other occasions, feeding the Vinsmokes was Cosette’s duty as she was responsible for the main kitchen.

The library snail only held a servant’s kitchen— something you tried to tell Yonji, but he demanded the quickest meal you could summon. The crew and the handful of other servants who sailed with you weren’t exactly picky when it came to food. In fact, the only people who seemed to hold the most judgment about the cook's meals were his own children.

“Prince Yonji wants his meal quickly,” you warned, making pointed eye contact at the cook. And whatever he made seemed to do the trick.

You had carried in three plates—one on your head even—and all three were cleared with inhuman speed. Now, they sat forgotten at the end of the table.

Per Yonji’s request, you pulled every single book you recalled reading in recent recollection, and they sat piled haphazardly in front of you. Even despite the fact that most of your days were spent reading, you were generous with your selections. Yonji made a face if you walked by any section without taking at least a book or two (he seemed to be under the legitimate impression that you had read every single text in the entire library).

It took you a moment to breathe before you noticed Yonji wasn’t with you. You glanced over to where he stood, just in front of your usual, comfortable reading chair next to the lefthand set of stairs. His left arm didn’t strain as he balanced an excessive stack of books, and he tucked his right hand into the pocket of his slacks as he craned his head toward the book of fairy tales and stories that sat on the side table.

The collection was open this time and Yonji was already messing up your bookmark, but unlike all of the other books in the room, Yonji didn’t include it in his compilation. By the time he turned to where you were seated, he had closed the cover with a frown.

“What are you so tuckered out for?” He placed the last stack on the table. “You didn’t do a goddamn thing.”

Sometimes, you had to remind yourself that Yonji didn’t experience life the same way you did. Yonji seemed to forget the same, but you doubted he put much thought into it.

***

Yonji appeared to no longer be interested in retaining you as his personal assistant from dawn until dusk, although that didn’t mean he had gotten rid of you altogether. He still expected you to wake him in the morning and get him ready for breakfast, but from thereafter, you were to return to and remain in the library. And in his time between mission work, drills, and other responsibilities he typically tended to as a commanding officer, Yonji hovered around you in the library.

Still unsure what he was expecting from you, the first few days of your new routine had been tense. Yonji would drop in at random intervals throughout the day, and if he wasn’t following you around the library as you worked, he was quietly planted somewhere in the room with one of your newly plucked-out books in his lap.

The way he would drop in unannounced used to make you uneasy, and within the context of it all, you were still unsure how he wanted to be served. You bolted up several times from your plush chair in those first few days, placing your book half-hidden in the cushion for whatever startled reason before Yonji waved you back.

“Sit back down,” he would almost drawl as he made directly for the long wooden table still piled high with books. (You were surprised he didn’t evict you from your seat, given how he’d take the chair any time you weren’t using it. It was the only seating with a cushion.)

Your schedule might have changed, but Yonji’s domineering presence certainly did not. You still couldn’t help but consider how out of place he looked, especially on the occasions he wore his raid suit into the archive. Ever-tall, ever-bulky, even the way Yonji contorted himself when hunched over a book made him stand out against the background of your humble archive.

“Prince Yonji,” you couldn’t help but tentatively call as you watched Yonji lower himself onto the carpet. His presence and behavior gave you never-ending whiplash. “Please, take my chair. Royalty shouldn’t lay on the floor!”

Yonji shrugged, propping his head up on his palm as he flipped his book open.

“Your spot doesn’t get any sun” was all he said with a quick glance up at you from where he lay on his side.

As the days went by, you found yourself more at ease with Yonji’s regular presence in your archive and even began growing excited at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. The table piled high with books became a staple, and for once, to your surprise, you had someone to talk about all of your books to.

“Yeah, the guy kidnapped her. But she ended up liking it, didn’t she?” Yonji started from his usual warm spot on the floor. He had rolled over onto his back, holding both sides of your recommended book above him. He moved it to the side to meet your eye. “I mean, she gets to be a queen and then visit her mom sometimes. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Yonji tilted his head to one side, then the other.

“It’s a tale told to young girls to make them feel better about being sold into slavery to Celestial Dragons.” You lounged across the two armrests of your chair with your own novel in your lap. “Of course, she’s going to warm up to being with him to prove that the people you take are better off having been taken.”

Yonji scoffed and frowned.

“She chose to stay. There were three goddam chapters dedicated to her thinking about it. It was so boring.”

“It’s less about the characters and more about the context that the story was written,” you gently corrected. Two weeks prior, you wouldn’t have imagined speaking to Yonji in such a casual way. “The whole point is that it’s her decision to stay.” You lowered your book to prop your elbow on the armrest your back was leaning against. “It’s to keep young slaves hopeful that even the Lord of Death is secretly a charming prince.”

Your eyes flickered back to your pages.

“I still think you’re readin’ into it.” A pause filled the air. You didn’t notice how Yonji’s gaze lingered on you. “Where are you in yours?”

“I just finished the section on shipbuilding.”

Yonji slowly sat up. He rested his forearm over his bent knee, and his opposite palm rested on the soft carpet fibers below. An excited grin creased his cheeks.

“And? What do you think?”

You couldn’t help but pause at the expression on Yonji’s face. His brows lacked tension and rested higher on his forehead than you recalled seeing them before. His eyes appeared more rounded as the skin around them was raised. You sat up a bit higher.

“The clinker construction was cool to learn about, and the emphasis on ship flexibility actually makes a lot of sense. And given the history of Elbaf, I’m not surprised, but pretty amazed that there’s really nothing else out there like their crafting techniques… given that this book is accurate.” You absentmindedly took a second look at the front cover, wedging your fingers between the pages to keep your spot.

“I don’t think there’s a ship out there as suited for long voyages, and that stuff’s generations old.” Yonji crossed his legs. One of the books you had pulled from the shelves, the classic West Blue myth for young slaves that you were just discussing, sat closed and finished in his lap.

Yonji, you had learned, could devour books. He read at a rate that made you envious, completely demolishing books that took you a few days at least to read in a matter of hours. Yonji had actually made a significant dent in the compilation he had tasked you to gather, and when he was done, he took great pride in handing it back to you to place back on the shelves.

He wasn’t above throwing them at you nor did he care about what you were doing at the moment he finished. But for as much as he seemed to like seeing you flinch as a hardcover novel slammed into the wood shelf next to your head, Yonji had taken to unceremoniously dropping them into your lap.

This time was no different. Yonji stood as you continued to exchange words about ship construction before strolling over to where you sat and letting his latest book fall directly onto your thighs. He stood over you, and you wondered if he realized he was waiting as you continued your conversation. Yonji, you also discovered, was quite chatty.

—“Well, I think that has more to do with the narrow hull and shallow draft.”

“You think so?” you hummed.

You stood, placing the book on Elbaf to the side and picking up the one that Yonji had just dropped on you. Neither of you batted an eye as you began to move, climbing the set of stairs to your left as you continued.

—“I think I would use a Knarr if I were to try that,” you considered, sliding the book back onto the shelf.

A loud, deep ring resounded throughout the room. You instinctually looked toward the large clock below. Yonji, no matter how long he stayed on any given day, always left just a bit before dinner and made it clear that you were to not bother him until you were to retrieve him the next morning. That had been the most drastic change to your routine, and it was getting to be about that time.

“Dinner already?” Yonji seemed to have the same thoughts as you. “Damn, I’m starving.” And just like every day before, Yonji strolled toward the doors with little regard, shouting some direction over his shoulder. “Work on the rest of that book. I want to talk about weapons, and you’re taking too goddamn long.”

Although, with Yonji gone, your nights weren’t completely free. After tidying up a few things following Yonji’s departure, you headed out of the southern tower, around the back, and down into the cellar doors leading to the servant’s quarters.

The structural material was half that of your standard Germa building and half snail shell. An entire level that sprawled the length of the ship, in addition to a few pockets for storage, was completely furnished and liveable within the snail shell. Sometimes, when the host snail retreated into its shell, you could see its fleshy body move under the floor in the right light. The overall engineering of the “below deck” quarters escaped you, but the animal didn’t appear to ever be in pain.

Now that Yonji was spending more time at the library, it became routine for you to retrieve the cook’s twins from downstairs. You’ve been distracting those children for years, and while you hadn’t intended on playing babysitter to the two little rascals that made your ship a bit more lively it allowed the cook time to prepare dinner a bit faster. From mealtime on, you were able to do what you pleased with your evenings. And given how isolated you usually were from the rest of the fleet— your snail typically trailed at the end of Lady Reiju’s brigade— you weren’t opposed to the occasional company.

When waiting on Yonji, you typically had to request that meals be reserved for you in the fridge, considering how late you’d get back to your own ship. Servants typically ate after the royal family anyway, but with your new routine, you could be on a more manageable cycle.

“Send Walker upstairs when dinner’s ready,” you said to the cook, his two children in tow, ready for storytime upstairs.

“Will do,” he replied, “The doors will be open, right?” You hummed with a nod.

“I usually keep them open. Prince Yonji is the one who locks them when he visits.”

The cook’s face faltered for a moment as if he wanted to ask you something more, but he said nothing and returned to his cooking. You led the children upstairs, letting them run around on the carpet in the southern tower before they settled in for a story.

You took the book from the table next to your chair, enjoying the breeze that blew from the window and out the doors of the southern tower.

***

On a random afternoon sometime in the following week, Yonji sifted through the piles on the table, placing a few books aside. You watched as he did, studying the passing book covers as they landed on top of each other with a soft thud. Most of them centered around spring islands, including local flora and fauna.

“You really read this?” Yonji scoffed. One dark-spined book missed the pile and fell to the side. You picked it up, gazing at the important man depicted on the front.

“Do you remember when people said he was going to change the world and abolish piracy?” you mused.

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to Yonji to gauge his reaction. You scanned him for approval every so often after speaking, your casual tone only becoming more common by the day. With the way he seemed to be changing his expectations at random, you were never sure when he might decide you were speaking out of term.

He glanced down at you as you plucked the cover open to read the table of contents. His eyes didn’t linger.

“Politicians are full of hot air,” Yonji said, returning his focus back to his sorting. “Especially that guy.”

You breathed in steadily. You were in the clear for another day.

��You know him?” you asked.

Yonji’s chest puffed in what might have been mistaken as a light laugh. He still didn’t look at you.

“Yeah, I know him.” His brows jumped on his forehead as he muttered a vulgar name under his breath at the mere recollection of the politician. You studied the front of the autobiography again. “I can’t believe you read that dickwad’s whole life story. Since you’re here all day, I thought your taste was better than this.”

Yonji tossed another book across the table. It hit another stack, causing all of them to tumble to the floor. You immediately stood to collect them. Yonji didn’t stop you.

“The papers were talking about him a lot. With all his ties to the world government and his background as a Marine, I thought we’d be hearing more about him.” You gathered up the fallen books and placed them a bit more nearly on the table out of Yonji’s way. “Besides, Lord Judge likes keeping those kinds of texts at hand.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t much more than 200 pages of bragging. I’d be surprised if you learned anything useful.”

“I share a birthday with his wife?” you volunteered with a laugh. “But no, the stories were so convoluted, I couldn’t even keep them straight.”

“Figures,” Yonji scoffed.

You meandered over to your reading chair, trying to be discrete as your eyes scanned the book of fairy tales. The bookmark you placed was crooked. You glanced back toward Yonji, who continued to shuffle things around on the table.

Yonji hadn’t been afraid to shove book recommendations into your arms when you had gone around the room before, and you saw him toying with the book at least twice before. And yet, this one had escaped the pile mounted on the table.

Your hand jerked as you reached for the book, hesitating for a second before you ultimately decided to take it in your hands.

You strolled back to the table, placing it with the others on the corner of the table. Yonji’s shuffling immediately stopped, and you failed to notice his narrow stare. Only when you sat down again did Yonji speak.

”What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was harsh, snapping through the tranquility of the room. Yonji’s eyes flickered from the cover to meet yours. His hands had stopped in the middle of what he was doing with a bulk of pages draped over his fingertips.

“It was one I’ve been reading—“ You paused with the intention of ending your reasoning there, but Yonji remained silent and disapproving. “… Your Highness.”

And suddenly, Yonji, as if he had remembered where he was and who he was, scowled severely at your transgression. The sobering reality hit you like a rock and the rapport you had been eased into evaporated at the sight of the sneer around Yonji’s nose. He scrambled the energy in the room in an instant, and suddenly, Yonji was a prince again, and you were a servant.

“I thought Your Highness was interested—-“

“Don’t get a big head now just because I need something from this pit of a ship,” Yonji spat. “Put it back.” You expected Yonji to throw it, but instead, he rolled his eyes and sat down at the table with an annoyed but otherwise light sigh.

Despite his short fuse, Yonji reached a simmer more often than he exploded into fits of rage. In fact, it was almost rare that Yonji grew genuinely angry as much as he seemed to go through bouts of pettiness. Frustration, annoyance, and imagined slights were all on the table, but at least according to the servants from Castle Niji, Yonji’s targeting was nowhere near as cruel as the Vinsmokes could be.

But that wasn’t something you were necessarily eager to test.

A loud pounding suddenly sounded from the library doors. They jiggled against each other, creating a discordant sound as the latch shook violently. The yelling on the other side of the door made your heart sink.

“What the hell?” Yonji frowned, watching as the doors continued to tremble before muffled commotion broke out in the hallway. He walked across the room with wide strides, and you couldn’t even hope to stop him before he flicked the latch and opened the doors wide.

Golden light flooded from the chamber into the dark hallway, and just down the red carpet, a servant tried to wrangle the cook’s two children out of the southern tower. Their little voices reverberated off the stone, as did the harsh shushing that came from the servant.

“Why can’t we go inside?” the boy asked loudly.

You ran up just behind Yonji, eyes widening at the sight. The servant met your eye, his face frozen in petrification has he silently begged for help. Even in the prince’s presence, the children continued to squirm around. The boy kicked his feet in the air as the servant held him under one arm and the girl complained from where she was thrown over the servant’s shoulder. You glanced pointedly from Yonji back to the servant’s terrified gaze.

But to your surprise, Yonji only pivoted a foot on the carpet, turning to glance at the large clock that sat to the left of the chamber’s large window. He shoved his left thumb into his pocket as he tended to do. The servant took the opportunity to make a break for it with the children.

“It’s dinnertime already?” Yonji wondered aloud, throwing his head back with a groan. “I didn’t even realize how damn hungry I was.” He sighed, barely turning his head as he spoke to you, “Don’t bother me for the rest of the night.”

And just like that, Yonji began to walk down the hall without further commentary.

“What would you like me to do with the books, Prince Yonji?”

“Leave ‘em.”

***

Yonji, despite receiving the same education as his brothers, wasn’t necessarily considered the brains of the operation. He liked destroying things through flashy displays of brute strength and was content to assume that role on the field. Not to say that Yonji wasn’t a capable commander of his forces, but when paired or grouped with any of his other siblings, Yonji was typically content with and expected to lay off the heavy thinking.

And so, when Yonji shoved Niji out of the way of the grand safe that was left for them to plunder in the ruins of what used to be a politician’s estate, saying, “I got this one,” the immediate assumption was that Yonji certainly did not have it.

Yonji pinched the lock dial between his fingers, tongue poking out from his lips.

”You’re gonna break it!”

“Got it!” The safe’s door clicked and then popped open, revealing riches for the taking inside. The royal treasure wasn’t explicitly on the table when Germa 66 was originally hired for the mass political assassinations, but what were the townsfolk going to do with it?

Niji gaped as Yonji began unloading the jewelry.

“How the hell did you—?” Niji inspected the lock, even going so far as to run his fingers over the mechanisms. He had been working on cracking that code for nearly a half hour on top of bypassing every other security measure in the room. “Yonji. Yonji.”

Niji shook his brother by the arm, only to be shrugged off. Niji let out a low growl, wasting no time in shoulder-checking Yonji to shove him out of the way. He budged a little, but not nearly enough for Niji’s liking. The two of them immediately began fighting. Niji wouldn’t even get an answer to his question until they returned to Germa.

“Yonji guessed the code,” Ichiji said. He crossed his arms, giving nothing away by the blank expression on his face. The space between his brows twitched. Ichiji was certainly asking a question. “Yonji.”

“Hey—” Yonji spoke with his mouth full, pointing a pea chip toward Ichiji, who stood in front of an equally unamused Niji. “Why’d you gotta say it like that?” he protested. Niji slapped him hard on the back of his head.

“Do you ever stop stuffing your face?”

Yonji reached an arm over the back of the couch he lounged on to push Niji away. Ichiji stood near the end of the short couch, his wrist just shy of brushing the back.

“You just guessed the code,” he stated, the only one in the room remaining with the subject.

“I thought birthdays were obvious passwords,” Yonji spoke with a mouthful of chips, shrugging as he sprawled out over the cushions. Ichiji and Niji exchanged glances above him, two sets of dark goggles meeting each other.

“Did you try the president’s birthday?” Ichiji asked.

“Of course not,” Niji spat. “What kind of moron do you take me for?”

“Not his birthday, his wife’s birthday,” Yonji corrected. One of his eyes squinted closed as he shuffled the last portion of his chips to the opening of the bag. Ichiji and Niji’s eyes met each other’s for a moment for a second time as a beat of silence overtook the room. Yonji didn’t notice.

“Uh,” Niji started with a crease in his brow. “How did you know her birthday?”

The Vinsmokes were typically able to recall unhuman levels of information, and Germa 66’s wealth of knowledge was not easily challenged, but when it came to the string of assassinations they were hired for on Rivulette, the acting president’s wife’s birthday wasn’t on the briefing docket.

“Did we get birthdays in the files?” Niji scratched at his undercut as he turned toward the eldest Vinsmoke son.

“It was in that stupid autobiography,” Yonji spoke before Ichiji had a chance to answer. At this point, Yonji had exhausted his entire supply of pea chips. He flicked the bag around, trying to salvage any large crumbs, not nearly as interested in the conversation as his older brothers were.

“You read that thing?” Niji sneered.

“We do have a copy in the library,” Ichiji mused stoically. His eyes flickered down to Yonji from behind his dark glasses. “Is that why you’ve been spending so much time there?” A deeper judgment, along with a lengthy analysis, lurked somewhere in his words, but as was natural for Ichiji, he gave nothing away.

Niji let out a bellowing laugh, the force of which was so great that his hands flew over his torso.

“You’re actually reading down there? I thought you were just going there for some ass!”

Ichiji said nothing, unnoticeably semi-deep in thought. Niji and Yonji continued to bicker in the background.

***

Another day of Yonji on a job meant another day alone in the library. And while you couldn’t complain about not having to navigate bouncing between ships or waking Yonji up in the morning, you couldn’t help the tinge in your chest that missed the companionship.

It was already a dismal day. The seas had been rough, and dark gray clouds loomed overhead. You spent most of your time securing the library in preparation for the rough seas. With the unique ability of Germa’s ships to occasionally sail vertically, every vessel had equipment made specifically for securing objects around the country. Most fixtures were already screwed into the floor, and a majority of the rooms held special, small, padded chambers for placing objects into that couldn’t be tethered.

And considering the cold that was going around the archival ship, you did most of the preparation yourself. The indoors were unspokenly allotted as your territory by the greater staff, most of whom worked on the more physical aspects of piloting the ship.

You had just finished organizing the books from the table into stability boxes when you heard the double doors to the southern tower open. The unmistakable clicking of the massive entrance was unmistakable and caused your head to snap up. You shut the lid to the box, crossing the room in an instant.

You had closed the main chamber doors to prepare for the storm, but you reached for the handles with a quiet giddiness and threw your whole weight into heaving them open.

“I thought you were going to be gone for another few days—”

Your words died on your lips the moment you looked up. Ichiji stood tall just outside the doorway, as unreadable as ever. But even so, you could feel his cold stare from behind his glasses. He regarded you with a slight frown.

“Were you expecting my brother?”

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: I can feel it. The hyperfixation slipping through my fingers. I'm determined to end this before I'm left with a half finished series that I have a hard time writing... like every other series I have... hahaha we will persevere indeed!!! (Sure, Wing, we'll end this when the anticipated length will be about 10+ chapters that are about 6-8k words each sure sure sure)

I was determined to not have this chapter end with another Yonji mission... like the first two, but alas we can't always get what we want.

I also put an obscene amount of time into making gifs, including editing this one together and Yonji's fucking earphones gave away all my hard work dammit.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX

#yonji x reader #yonji vinsmoke x reader #one piece fanfiction #yonji vinsmoke #yonji #germa 66 #vinsmoke brothers #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece fanfic #yonji fanfic #x reader #x you #reader insert

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