#5k words of them being idiots

[blkkizzat]

❝ AITA FOR ACCIDENTALLY GETTING MY ANCIENT SORCERER BF HIGH? ❞

MODERN ERA TRUE!FORM SUKUNA X READER

» thread [summary]: Sukuna just ate all your edibles and is now more lit than Tokyo Tower—great. Now you have to fuck his high n' grumpy ass calm before you're the one that's actually fucked.

» upvotes [wc]: 11.9k » awards [cw]: true form sukuna, crack fic 110%, dr*g use, accidental dr*gging, slight dubcon, sub!sukuna, cunnalingus, fingering, whiny!sukuna, riding, twin-cock sukuna, nipple teasing, lots of banter, spanking, bimbo!reader, pussy smacks, frottage, premature ejaculation, creampie, breeding fantasies, rimming, cum eating, femdom, uncut/uncircumcised, high n' sassy sukuna, bondage, lots of teasing, and bits of fluff . » mod comments [a/n]: part of the 'we be burnin' JJK 420 collection (ill make a series post eventually i swear lol). I had the goal of keeping this under 12k and i made it! by 44 words. this was supposed to be a 5k fic but I got carried away because I love exploring modern day tf!sukuna x reader relationship so lots of banter and tid bits.

Enjoy!

Ok girl. Deep breaths. You got this! 

Standing in front of the large shoji door to Sukuna’s quarters, any nerve you build quickly dissipates by the time you raise your hand to knock.

SHIT-SHIT-SHIT!  

Swaying on your feet, suddenly, you don’t feel so sober anymore. Well, technically you weren’t even sober to begin with—far from it actually, you'd just started the come down from some pretty powerful edibles.

Edibles which happen to be the source of all your troubles now. 

You thought Sukuna leaving, for what you assumed would be a few days, would be the perfect opportunity for you to get completely zoinked off your ass—and that's exactly what you did.

Yet, unbeknownst to you, his plans had changed and he had returned home only after a day.

So when you finally awoke from your weed-induced power nap to discover Uraume had served Sukuna the remaining of the matcha and adzuki manju edibles you had made, you just about fell out.

Uraume had given Sukuna all three dozen of them. 

You didn’t even intend to make so many, but you accidentally doubled the recipe for weed butter and you weren’t about to let good product go to waste. Not with how tough it was to find good weed in Tokyo with it being illegal and all.

But fuck! 

You can’t recall a single time Sukuna ever enjoyed human food—more sated by human flesh instead. 

Yet from what Uruame told you he had already eaten at least five of them already.

Who knew The Curse King had such a fucking sweet tooth?!

Of course, Uraume blamed you once you explained. And true, while you did make the edibles, you certainly didn’t tell their ass to serve them to Sukuna!

Uraume scoffed at you though, claiming anything in Sukuna’s palace belonged to Sukuna—including you and whatever you happened to bake. 

The pompously dull scolds Uraume gave went in one ear and out the other as you rolled your reddened eyes. Eyes which immediately turned into a panic when Uraume demanded it be you, not them, to check up on Sukuna.   

That was the whole reason why you are even in front of Sukuna’s door right now sweating fucking buckets. 

Especially, since Uruame made the utterly insane accusation of you attempting to poison Sukuna. 

You tried to argue that Sukuna is immune to toxins—but Uraume wouldn’t listen to any of that. 

Hell, If you thought you could take Uraume in a fight, even in a more sober state, you would have literally scrapped with their ass before you agreed to check on a possibly high Sukuna. 

Who knows what kind of nefarious time The King of Curses would be on while high!?

Uraume is the one who is his attendant and also fed him the edibles!

They should be the one to go!  

But you also aren’t an idiot. You know for a fact Uraume would hand you your ass and then force you to go check on him anyway. No sense in getting unnecessarily bagged up when Sukuna himself might actually kill you.

So here you were, in front of his door dreading what might be waiting for you on the other side. 

“Woman! You are annoying me more by just standing out there, come-in or fucking leave.”

Piercing your thoughts, Sukuna’s gruff command booms through the door with enough force to make you take a few steps back.

Okay maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so bad?

He sounded normal enough. 

No one high could still be this grumpy.

Sukuna is The King of Curses after all. 

Something as simple as a mere plant shouldn’t have any affect on him, right?

Steeling yourself, you slide open the door to his chambers. 

You make a mental note to fire your therapist, as the deep meditative breathing patterns they recommended does fuck all to temper your increasing anxiety in this situation.

Peering into the room before you enter, you see Sukuna propped on his side atop the wooden engawa patio leading to his private gardens. His nose seems to be buried in some ancient text you can't quite decipher from this distance.

Well, he looks normal enough too—from what you could tell at least.

You walk towards him but Sukuna makes no acknowledgement to greet you. 

However, if you could see his face, you would see the amused evil that pulls up at the corner of his lips. 

Sukuna can sense your uneasiness radiating off of you in waves. 

You’d not been this distressed to be in his presence in quite some time and yet you still sought him out—something you rarely did—even in a good mood. Typically, you’d only come to him when he called for you or when you wanted his cock. 

You had to want something from him—and a slut like you was never shy about asking for dick. 

Interesting.  

Sukuna knew you hated having to humble yourself to ask anything of him, so he took great pleasure in teasing you for it when necessity meant you could no longer delay your request.

Whatever you wanted, Sukuna certainly wouldn’t make it easy for you.

Where would be the fun in that?

And neither would your own body, apparently, make this situation any easier. You nearly trip over your own feet as the paranoid side effects of your high reaches full throttle.

Your eyes growing wider with each step forward.

The vision of the tea set next to him along with the plate of your manju edibles—the now almost empty plate—confirms your fears.

Only one solitary piece remained.

Nervously, you kneel near Sukuna’s feet, your back perfectly straight and your arms extended in front of you. Forcing yourself into an overly formal position to avoid fidgeting any more than you already are.

A tense silence settles between you both—well, tense for you. 

Sukuna seems perfectly content to bask in your discomfort. 

You swallow, unsure how to start.

Even if he wasn’t a malevolent ancient cursed sorcerer, telling someone they’ve been accidentally dr*gged was never going to be a pleasant conversation. 

Although, you still do your best to be covert in your inspection of him—no sense in telling him he’d been dr*gged at all if he wasn’t actually high.

Sukuna on the other hand is growing impatient with your nervous energy. 

When he finally speaks, you’re nearly jumping out of your own skin. 

“Why are your eyes so red, brat? Don’t tell me you’ve been fucking crying again? Is the time of your moon cycle upon us already?”

Did this man for real just ask you if you were on your period!?!?

Exhaling deeply out of your nose, you give him a polite, yet clipped, reply.

���Just allergies, m’lord.”

You wanted to tell him off so bad but you didn’t want to piss him off more than necessary, considering the circumstances. Besides, you were certain your eyes were red as hell right now from being high for the last three hours. So in order to control your temper, you proceed to gaslight yourself into thinking that, for someone like Sukuna, this was a logical assumption to make.

The thought stops you from cussing him out at the very least.

However, Sukuna is astute enough to know you’re lying.

Truthfully, he’d only made the comment to rile you up.  

Not only were you a horrible liar to begin with—but everything from your clenched knuckles, to the way you gnaw on your inner cheek to contain your sass, are all dead giveaways.

Those facts withstanding, Sukuna could tell by the subtle shift in the scent of your intoxicating pheromones alone if you were on your moon cycle or not. 

And it was far too late into summer for it to be allergies.

No, something is on your mind. 

Something you didn’t want to come right out and tell him. 

Not that he tended to care at all about any of your silly concerns, but seeing you had seeked him out in such a frazzled state has him curious.

What other than him could get his favorite lil’ human this upset?

Sukuna immediately loses the little remaining interest he has in his book, all of his interest now focused on you.

His evil grin widens.

“Then is ‘just allergies’ to blame for placing the notion in your dizzy little head that I wanted to be fucking bothered with your presence right now? Or are you telling me ‘allergies’ is a new modern term for sluts wanting dick?”

Son of a bi—and see this is exactly why you actively avoided him when you’re not fucking him! 

Sukuna was obnoxiously insufferable to be around when he wasn’t giving you toe-curling, heart-stopping, vision-blinding orgasms. You surely would have at least tried to escape by now if it wasn’t for that—well, that and the fact he did have a literal palace and you no longer had to have a job or worry about rent, bills and all the other shit you hated about adulting. 

You weren’t treated like a princess but you pretty much had access to everything practical you could ever want. 

Although you were still working on getting a stable internet connection up in the mountains.

Yeah, no, Sukuna wasn’t a bum by any means and you could surely do a lot worse than a mean, forever-grumpy, ancient asshole.

Sigh.

However, as far as you were concerned now, you had two ways you could play this: you could fly off the handle at his intentionally crass insults or you could pay it. 

You choose the latter, knowing he would soon grow bored of you if you just shrugged off his mockery, ignoring him. 

You just need to buy yourself a bit more time to tell for sure if he was high or not. Then you could fuck off and enjoy the remainder of your own high as you wouldn’t be getting stoned for a while now.

Thanks to him eating all your stash.

“Uhhh, no m’lord. I-I just wanted to know how you enjoyed the manju I made. I filled them with matcha and adzuki beans…It was my first time baking them.”

Oh? 

You still wanted to play games?

Sukuna’s gaze darkens at the chance to pick at you more. The more you would lie and beat around the bush the more Sukuna wanted to press your buttons. 

Never getting bored of pissing you off, angering you was his second favorite pastime. You made it too easy to wind you up like a coil until you snapped like a little twig in his grasp. 

All so he had an excuse to do his actual favorite pastime—punishing you. 

Lacking any sort of discipline, you were more of a hot head than he was at times—which was saying something. Sukuna loved to bring you to the very limits of your sanity with his taunting of you. Only so he could watch you helplessly thrash beneath him, frustrated that you could never beat nor overpower him. 

You were a curious little sorcerer who got off on edging death which was apparent from how your fiery anger quickly sparked into shameless arousal, like the massive cockslut you are. You’d be cursing Sukuna to hell before begging him to take you along for the ride.

In turn, Sukuna would bully both of your tight greedy holes, mesmerized by your filthy cunt creaming enough to soil a puddle onto any surface he happen to fuck you on. 

You had to have been a succubus in a past life. 

His sexual appetites were immense but you were nearly insatiable yourself. Fucked out and trembling, with your eyes barely open, you’d never stop pleading him for more until he’d fuck you unconscious. 

Nevertheless, in this lifetime you were a pitifully weak sorcerer in comparison to him—however you could be considered ‘special grade’ if ranked solely on your ability to take dick. 

Truly, your best quality and what has kept you alive thus far. 

At least that’s what Sukuna would tell himself when the thought of you dead leaves him feeling restless and agitated. It’s why he never lets you leave the palace grounds other than with Uraume on their occasional visits into Tokyo. 

Sukuna had deemed you too weak to be left to your own devices outside of his palace.

You were his plaything, to do with as he pleased—and right now, he wanted to make you absolutely lose your shit.

From the way your aura bristled, it was clear you just needed one final push.

And so, Sukuna pushed.

“HA! I could tell—”

On the verge of unraveling altogether, your brow twitches as you count backwards from a hundred in your mind to calm down—another bullshit coping mechanism from your soon-to-be-fired therapist.

100…99…98…

“—thought you filled those manju with horse shit.”

97…9—

Never failing to take the bait, you wouldn’t disappoint him this time either. 

Jumping up, you wobbled on your feet but that didn’t stop you from stomping your foot in indignation with enough force to make the old wooden floorboards creak.

“THEN WHY IN THE EVERLOVING FUCK DID YOUR BIG HUNGRY ASS PRACTICALLY EAT THREE DOZEN OF THEM!?” 

From the looks of it Sukuna was perfectly fucking fine—like you had figured he’d be. 

This had proven to be a complete waste of your time even checking on him. The brief encounter had done nothing but fuck up the remainder of your high since he wanted to be such an ornery bastard about everything.

Forgetting all about your plan to not piss him off, instead you flip him off, storming away. 

“LIKE THEY DON’T EVEN AFFECT YOU?! WHAT A FUCKING WA—”

Like a blur Sukuna rises as his four arms extend to ensnare you.

However lucky for you, you sense him in time to dod—wait… did you just dodge him!? 

No, that's not right he must have missed.

Huh?

HE FUCKING MISSED!?

Whipping your body around, you face him. 

Your wide confused eyes meet his own puzzled gaze, one that you notice is turning increasingly more red by the second to extend beyond just the color of his pupils. 

You don’t even have the time to appreciate how adorably ridiculous the expression is on him before the realization hits—

—OHHHH SHIT—SUKUNA IS HIGH AS FUCK!!!

He likely hadn’t moved from that spot since he so gluttonously devoured your entire tray of edibles. In turn, as is with the nature of getting high, if you are sitting or laying down while you partake, you often don’t realize exactly how baked you are until you finally stand up. 

And from the looks of it the high had just hit him like a fucking semi-truck.

Sukuna was absolutely lit.

Staggering in his stance, a look of surprise is on both of your features. You were for certain Sukuna would have fallen to the ground if not for his hand catching onto the wall beside him. 

His awkward movements are akin to someone suddenly realizing how bulky and inconvenient it was to be approaching 8-feet-tall with four massive arms.

“O-Ohhhh my god, Ohhhh my fucking god! Y-You can actually get high!?!”

Thoroughly gagged, your hands fly to cover your mouth. Always one for inappropriate reactions at awkward and improper times, you can’t suppress your snorts of laughter as the reality of him actually being high settles in. 

Sukuna on the other hand is currently fighting a losing battle with vertigo to find steady footing. His bloodshot eyes take on a more deadly appearance as his pupils glow red in fury to match. 

“W-What the fuck did you do, woman?!”

Did he just stutter too!? 

Oh shit this was too good. 

You cursed yourself for not having your phone on you, but knew better to bring a phone around Sukuna. He’d broken your phones one too many times because he wouldn’t admit he was more jealous of you paying attention to your talking clock (it was TikTok) than him.

Yet at the same time, his accusations that any of this is your fault piss you off further. 

“ME!? I’m not the one who just smashed over 3000 grams of weed! Pretty sure that much would even take down a fucking elephant!!”

In response, Sukuna growls as his cursed energy discharges off of him in erratic waves. Yet the intensity is not nearly as oppressive as you knew it could be.

The weed is clearly having an effect on him. 

“Watch how you speak to your King, brat. I won’t warn you again.”

Dripping with sarcasm you bow dramatically. 

“Oh no, how could I forget my place, Sukuna! How about you ask next time before you just gobble up all my shit? Then this wouldn’t have even happened!” 

When bickering with him, you often dropped all formalities which always got you into deeper trouble.

“S-SHUT THE FUCK UP!!”

CRACK~!

Wood splintered around Sukuna, falling to the ground in a heap. Sukuna had unintentionally misfired a cleave right through the wall next to you and effectively remodeled his chambers to extend into the next room over.

A few strands of your hair get caught in the crossfires and they float in the air beside you, along with the various debris from the wall. 

It’s becoming quite apparent that while high, Sukuna struggles to keep his immense cursed energy in-check and it fluctuates to match his temper. 

The look of shock on your face mirrors Sukuna's, who is now staring at his hand as if he had grown a sixth finger. It’s not a finger though, it's his eye from the face on his hand, bloodshot and red. That's when Sukuna notices the eyes on his face are also bloodshot, perfectly matching yours.

“ASSHOLE! What if that fucking hit me?!”

“Well, you sure as fuck wouldn’t be alive to be screeching at me right now, woman…”

You were seething. 

How is everyone still treating this like it's your fault!?

“No one told you to eat all my edibles, King Big Back!”

Sukuna growled at your insults even if he didn’t really understand them. 

He was huge—of course he had a big back…? 

Your words, which Sukuna deems nonsensical, only make him dizzier and amplified the almost out of body experience he was currently in. Clearly the fault of your so-called “edibles”, Sukuna couldn’t remember the last time he felt so out of sync with himself as he leaned against what was left of the structure.

Not since he’d first adjusted to being a cursed object in his very first host. 

“Well fuck me then, for not realizing you were brewing poison, witch.”

“Yeah fuck you, because its just a plant! A harmless little plant! Didn’t they have hemp back in your pre-historic era, you old fossil?!”

Sukuna growls at your insults, but nonetheless considers your words.

Of course they had hemp. 

Being practically native to Japan it was utilized in many trades, but this had to be a different variety of the plant. Sukuna never heard of it being consumed, as the plant had more pragmatic uses for clothing and tools. 

“For practical use, woman! Not to make potions and consume like some fuckin’ degenerate.”

Your eyes narrowed. 

Sukuna of all people calling anyone else a degenerate was rich. 

“For the last time Kuna—it's not any kind of poison or potion! You’re supposed to be immune to toxins, remember?”  

Sukuna growls once more. 

True, poisons had no effect on him. 

If what he consumed was in fact just a plant, and nothing imbued with venom nor curses, then perhaps this didn’t make the cut? 

Although Sukuna is sure the after-consumption effect has to be akin to something poisonous, since for the first time in likely what had to be a thousand years, the unfamiliar sensation of nausea crept up his throat.

Stepping back inside his chambers, he teeters unsupported on his feet before dropping down to a seated position. The uncoordinated clumsiness of his actions causes the room to shake, sending more fragments of the now-destroyed wall crumbling around the both of you.

Dare you say it, you kinda… feel bad for him?

Sure you were still pissed at him, and in no way were you about to accept responsibility for this…but in this state he looked sort of, well, pathetic. 

You didn’t think you’d ever be using that word to describe Sukuna, who’d time and again proved to be more fearsome than the beasts of nightmares. 

Yet at the moment he was definitely giving off more sad Hello Kitty vibes, rather than a monstrous primordial tiger. All four eyes on his face were dilated to comical proportions and the tired scowl he wore was more akin to a toddler’s pout.

It was… cute?

Upon further appraisal, as he sits with arms and legs crossed like a child after a tantrum, you decide he definitely looks cute.

And dare you say even—baby girl?

Not like you could ever tell him that though. 

You’re sure if you called him that, no matter how weak and uncoordinated he was now, Sukuna would somehow muster the willpower to wring your head right off your pretty little neck. 

Regardless, having Sukuna be so weakened, even temporarily, was unsettling to say the very least. 

“I-I really didn’t think you would eat them, Kuna. You don’t even like human food!”

Your voice takes on a more apologetic tone as you begin to inch over to him. 

Dropping down on all fours, you cautiously crawl closer bit by bit in a similar fashion as to how one would a wounded beast you were scared might lash out—even if you were only trying to help it.

“I don’t ever fucking recall saying that, brat.”

Sukuna hisses but the fatigue was clear in his tone.  The bite in his words hardly evoked the blood-curdling fear he was so easily capable of under normal circumstances.

Sukuna closes his eyes in exasperation, which consequently has you rolling yours. 

Bulllllllshit!

Every single thing that man tried, he hated!

Well, every single modern thing. 

Oh fuck, they had manju back then too, huh?

Stopping once you are directly in front of him, you peer up at him with big doe eyes, sweet and apologetic.

But Sukuna isn’t falling for it—or he didn’t want to at least. 

Cracking open an eye at you before closing it again, Sukuna turns away from you, nose upturned. 

Urgh, what a big diva! 

You almost want the normal, insanely irritating, Sukuna back instead of the blitzed sassy creature before you—almost.

“Listen Kuna, you did eat a whole shit load... More than any grown ass man I’ve ever seen to be honest…”

You shook your head and mumbled the last part under your breath, ignoring his sassy gripes, as he definitely still heard you.

“Ok, so I have literally zero clue as to how long your high will last… but I mean hmm… why don’t you try RCT?”

Sukuna stares daggers at your sheepish expression. 

You had to be an idiot.

If Sukuna could focus his cursed energy enough for RCT he would have fucking done it already! Not to mention, take his sweet time in punishing you too. However, all that would have to wait until the disorienting effect wore off enough to make that possible.

For now though, Sukuna just wants to be alone.

This 'weed' was having strange effects on him, he is growing inexplicably nervous to be in your presence for some ridiculous reason.

“Leave.”

“Nope.”

All four of Sukuna’s eyes flare and stare you down the best they can through his red-eye squints.

“I gave you an order, brat. I won't ask again.”

Sukuna tried his best to deliver his threats in the bone-chilling tone he was so well known for, but it falls flat, yet again, thanks to him being higher than a pair of perky tits. 

His frown, and thereby his pout, intensifies at his current ineffectiveness.

“I can’t just leave you though, Kuna…”

Thinking him docile enough, you slowly crawl into his lap and thread your arms between the two sets of his own, gazing up adoringly at him. Sukuna allows you to do so without fuss, although he doesn’t return your embrace nor does he look at you. 

His own head swirls too much—especially with how his skin begins to tingle just from the sensation of your warm body pressing against his. 

“You need me! What if we were to get attacked by jujutsu sorcerers right now? I’d have to protect you!”

You don’t even try to suppress your giggles this time when your body is shaken by the disgruntled rumbles from his chest.

“Tch—with the few measly crumbs of cursed energy you do possess, you can’t even protect your own fucking self—”

“Hey!”

“—so if that happens, then were both royally fucked.”

Okay, so you weren’t anything close to a super strong special grade sorcerer. But you think you’d be somewhere around grade 1 now, so you could hold your own against most!

At least enough for you both to escape! 

You’d only really be in trouble if that sexy white-haired blue-eyed sorcerer, Gojo Satoru, showed up. Although from the way he winked at you the last time you saw him, saying ‘you’d be prettier as a Jujutsu High teacher instead of one of Sukuna’s lackeys’, you’re pretty sure if you flirted hard enough you’d be okay at least.

Still, you actually liked living with Sukuna a lot more than you cared to admit. Moreover, ‘Jujutsu High teacher’ would qualify as you having to work an actual job—yeah nah, fuck that. 

You’d stay with your ancient asshole, thank you very much.

Bringing your attention back to Sukuna, who had since closed his eyes to keep the room from spinning, you poked a finger into his cheek.

Sukuna ignores you, but you persist.

Your little finger presses deeper and deeper until a mouth forms on his skin to snap at you, causing you to snatch your hand back before you lose said finger. 

“Worry about protecting yourself, brat! You’re aware when this wears off, I’m going to fucking rip you apart and feed you to the mouth on my stomach limb by limb.”

Unphased, you flirtatiously bat your lush lashes as one of your hands slipped through his robes to caress the spot where his mouth forms. 

“Awe Kuna, if you have the munchies that badly and want me to ride your stomach again—all you have to do is ask. I’ll let you eat me right up.”

His abs clenched ever so slightly from your touch.

“Urgh, woman, you should go enjoy the last hours of your life while you still can…”

His threat dissolves into grumbles, still making no attempt to push you off.

Well, if you were in fact about to go to glory as soon as Sukuna could control his powers again—you might as well enjoy yourself while you still can.

“Yeah, yeah, Kuna—but until that happens just relax, okay?  Let’s have some fun, eh? That’s the whole point of being high in the first place!”

Sukuna rolls his eyes but allows you to push him back to the floor. His body feels so heavy and laying down was so much more agreeable than sitting up in his condition.

Still, he couldn’t see how this out-of-body-like experience could be fun. 

Fun for Sukuna was killing. 

Sukuna enjoyed most of his thrills relishing in the screams of his victims as he bathed in their blood which poured so liberally through his deadly claws. 

He even has a pool of blood for god sake!

Well had—until you nagged him pretty much to death, complaining that you couldn’t be expected to bathe in the garden koi pond. As a result, Sukuna had Uraume restore the hotspring to its original state —if only to get you to shut the fuck up.

Hn, now that he considers it, you are way too much fucking trouble than your crazy-ass, tight-ass, lil’ cunt was worth—his current predicament being the ultimate testament to that.

“This isn’t fun.”

It’s your turn to smirk as you straddle him.

“It will be!”

For me at least. 

You don’t say that last part out loud though.

You’re smiling down at Sukuna playfully, pulling your tank top from overhead to reveal your simple pink cotton bra with little flowers printed on them.

Sukuna, who had since draped an arm over his face, regards you skeptically from under his muscular limb with his lower set of eyes.

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, brat?”

“What does it look like asshole? I’m gonna fuck you.”

“And if I tell your bratty ass to fuck off and die?”

“Well, for one—it’s not like you can stop me. And two—when has me saying ‘no’ ever stopped you?”

You stare down at him sweetly.

“Slut.” 

Sukuna snarls, turning his head in a huff once again.

Checkmate.

This was the ultimate win as far as you’re concerned. 

Sukuna had his way with you entirely when you fucked. He was always in control—of everything. Not that the slutty masochist in you ever minded, but you wanted a turn to be the dominant one for once and control his pleasure.

Hell, if you knew marijuana would have this much of an effect on him you would have given him some sooner! 

Besides, you could tell by the way his robes rose on the lower half of his body he was already feeling its euphoric effects. 

Yet you had no idea just how much. 

Sukuna’s already inhuman perception intensifies the experience a hundredfold. His limbs are heavy, as if the floor might give way, libel to sink into the very earth at any moment.

Staring out into the garden, he could see everything in vividly intense hypervision through his dilated orbs.

Every rustle of the leaves, every movement of even the smallest creatures, and every particle in the air took on a lustrous sheen. All his senses were in overdrive, creating a strange euphoria vibrating through his body, suspending him in time—that is until your honeyed voice snapped him out of it.

“Hi~ Look at me, Kuna~~”

Soft hands cup his large face, bringing his sights back to you. Sukuna emits a disapproving grunt, or at least he thinks he does.

He’s not entirely sure. 

With his attention now focused on you, everything else in the world seems to still.

The anxious throbs in his chest seem to prolong each beat, as if his heart might stop altogether. Sukuna concludes that these palpitations and irregular rhythms must be a side effect of the plant.

Has to be.

It certainly wasn’t the way the light of golden hour shimmered on your skin so radiantly, like an otherworldly ethereal creature only seen at dusk—making him feel like he was the inferior mortal in your presence. 

“Don’t float away on me…”

Your voice, filled with angelic mirth, tickles his ears while your fingers gently card through his hair.

Sukuna bites his tongue, drawing out thick, viscous red liquid to suppress the needy purrs bubbling in his throat from your doting caresses.

How could he be the one to float away when you had the appearance of one who had descended from the sky? 

Sukuna's lower set of hands unconsciously brace your thighs like a vice, as if to anchor you and prevent you from levitating away from him.

Goddamn, if not some potion, you had to have cast some twisted spell. 

Everything about you right now was enthralling to him.

Has your skin always been this silky?

Sukuna succeeds in remaining quiet, yet fails in keeping his lower half controlled, involuntarily bucking his hips. His eagerness apparent, you rub your clothed mound over his twin cocks that stiffen beneath you.

Your hands skillfully loosen the knots in his obi to uncover his firm abs and ritualistic tattoos already covered in a sheen layer of perspiration.

Sukuna’s breath hitches when your fingernails graze over his sensitive exposed nipples. 

“Watch it, brat.”

But he sounds so far away now, you don’t really pay him any mind.

You are lost in enjoying some of the far less intense, but still lingering, effects of your own high. 

Humming a saccharine tune, your head tilts back as you relish the pleasurable strain in your inner thighs just from having them span over his broad pelvis. The melody serves as an accompaniment to the steady rhythm of your hips, unraveling him more by the second.

When your eyes do open again, you observe the strain evident across Sukuna’s sharp features. 

You simper, wondering how long Sukuna could hold on before he fell apart completely underneath you?  

Picking up tips from the royal headache himself on how to press buttons, you taunt Sukuna with your coos.

“Are ya still mad at me, Daddy?”

You’re pouting but your mischief is evident, twinkling brightly behind your eyes.

Sukuna’s own eyes narrowed at your boldness. 

You just loved calling him ‘Daddy’ like the filthy whore you are—lacking in any sort of couth.

This whole situation was infuriating for him. 

And as such, Sukuna wants to be mad at you—to teach you a lesson, to have you meet your death at his own powerful hands—but alas—his own body betrays him. 

Your still sparkling aura exacerbates his intoxicated frustrations along with his more carnal desires as euphoria rushes through him. 

His nostrils flare when the candied perfume of your sinful little cunt—already soaked untouched—saturates the air.

Fucking hell—he could practically taste you on his tongue.

“Just get on with it then, if you think you can, woman—”

Giving your rear a firm smack, Sukuna hurries you along.

“—although, I’m sure your weakling ass will give up and be begging me to fuck you within the first minute.”

You roll your eyes. 

Even in spite of his breath laboring slightly, along with minor twitching spasms of his thighs underneath you—he’s still acting tough.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. Won’t we, Daddy?”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you hop up to kick off your slippers. You take your time in removing your shorts though, hands sensually sliding them down, giving him a little show. 

All four of his eyes follow the provocative sway of your hips intently, just the same as the one time you showed Sukuna what a lap dance was. 

Of course he’d enjoyed it. 

However, where’d you fucked up was mentioning how your previous lovers had enjoyed it too—because your twerking had lasted all of 20 seconds. Sukuna had then pinned you down, growling as he called you all manners of vulgar slut-whore. The result was you limping for the next 2 days, fuck harder than he ever had previously, angered by the thought of you ever having done that for anyone else.

However, as much as you wanted to take your time torturing him for once, you were too selfish to deny yourself. The thought of you having control when fucking him has you dripping. 

Settling back on top of him, you’re on all fours facing towards his cocks. Giving Sukuna a prime view of your pussy in those cheeky pieces of fabric you called undergarments.

This wasn’t a typical view for Sukuna, who was used to looking down at you when you sucked him off from a kneeling position—so he could see exactly how those fat tears would well in your eyes as he ruined your throat when he forced your head even further down.

But this view wasn’t so bad. The growing wet spot on your panties confirms his nose had been accurate. However, you do look every bit of the fiendish whore that you are, getting so wet for him when he hadn’t even touched you.

You’re in your own world though and you audibly gasp upon peeling back the lower half of his robes. Taken aback by the thick globs of pre that gather at the very tip of his engorged cockheads. His essence pools in the folds of his foreskin until no more fluid could be contained, overflowing down his uncut length. 

You’d never seen him this leaky before.

Your pillowy lips experimentally blow cool air across both tips and Sukuna hisses as his cocks twitch in your hands. Wasting no time, your tongue deviantly flattens as you lick up the trail of dribble that ran down his upper shaft. 

His lower cock was hardly forgotten as your thumb completely uncovers the hidden tip. The well of pre spilling from him allows you to more easily pump his slightly girthier length in circular motions while you continue to salaciously suckle the other.

Sukuna unwillingly rewards you with an audible grunt of pleasure.

“Hnng—Y-You’re a fuckin’ cocktease! S-Suck me right, whore!”

You giggle at his faltering voice and Sukuna smacks your ass in response. His heavy hand still stings your skin even in his weakened state, making you all the wetter. 

For each kitten lick, a slap to one of your plump cheeks rings through his chamber. 

Sukuna is captivated by the way your flesh molds to his touch. He kneads each of your cheeks in his giant hands, leaving them warm and tingling. 

The abuse to your rear goes straight to your pussy. You forget for a second that it's Sukuna, and not yourself, who is supposed to be the subservient one in this situation.

“Hurry up, brat! You seriously think a half-assed job like that is enough for me to cum?”

In response to his provocations, your warm breath salivates over his swollen glands before entirely engulfing his upper cock.

Pulling off of him with a pop you alternate taking the other one into your mouth. Sukuna flinches as you swirl your tongue around his lengths. Vacuuming your lips, you alternate between the two twin cocks.

Sukuna grits his teeth. 

He had taught you to take him completely, although he always forced your throat open. He was genuinely surprised that you could do it on your own, which, to be honest, you probably couldn't have done without the weed relaxing the muscles in your neck and throat.

That’s when you hear it—the tiniest of whines—but a whine nonetheless.

“HA! See!—Kunaaaa, did you actually—”

If you could have seen his face you would have giggled at the pink that lightly dusted his features. Regardless, Sukuna isn’t one to take being bested lightly. 

Sukuna hooks a finger through the crotch of your panties, yanking up roughly. From this angle, the effect only puts tension on your pussy—tugging your panties taunt and compressing your clit. You keen loudly as you release his cocks, no longer able to focus on getting him off.

“FUUHHHHCK!”

One hand keeps your panties pulled taut, another hovers over the most heat of your core, lazily rubbing over your covered entrance. Your ever increasing wet spot has him in a trance like state as it spreads to take over your entire crotch area, dampening his fingers.

RIIIIIIIP!

Sukuna tears your underwear clean off, shredding them, 

Damn. Those were one of your favorite pairs of lounging panties too! 

You're ready to tell him off but you never get the chance as two large fingers bully their way into your pussy, leaving you sobbing.

Even over the vulgar sloshing of your sloppy hole, you can audibly hear a rough moan from Sukuna as your core constricts around his burly fingers. Your hands and knees tremble violently as you struggle to maintain your balance.

Sukuna’s tactile sensations at its peak, he is in awe of how well your gummy walls suck his thick digits in further. The velvety ridges of your cunt was like an incubator of fiery heat—a heat that may even rival that of his own divine flame technique.

“W-Waiiiiiiit—N-No fair, K-Kuna!”

Of course, your pleading slurs go unheeded. 

Like a mortal who had dipped his hand into a heavenly jar of warm ambrosia, the allure of your cunt in his intoxicated state is bewitching to say the very least. Sukuna’s hyperfixation is focused on a single-minded mission to dig out more and more milky nectar from your convulsing lil’ hole.

Your searing walls clench down when a sharp nail grazes your g-spot. Crying out, your eyes sink back into your head and your slick pours down the length of his muscular forearm.

Sukuna enjoys making a mess of you. 

Your fluids splash across his broad chest, arms and a bit even reaches his face—mouth forming on his cheek to greedily lick up your remains.

Even with limited control over his own faculties, Sukuna was still able to turn you into a quivering mess.

Dammit! You were supposed to be the one in control! 

You can only weakly grasp at his cocks as the motions of his fingers switch from languid exploratory strokes to fast pumps, adding a third finger and pressing a thumb into the rim of your puckered hole.

Stirring up your insides, Sukuna, to be frank, isn’t doing it for your reactions but for your pussy’s. 

Mind clouded, Sukuna fully dissociates once again in his enchantment of you, he doesn’t even realize you aren’t sucking him off any longer. He is much too distracted by every response your gooey cunt gifts him.

If anyone had asked him, in his utterly toked state, Sukuna would have sworn your cunt was actually squelching out full sentences. Sukuna, of course —fully fluent in ‘Cuntanese’—understands her with sparkling clarity.

She wanted more, to cum even harder. 

She’s so fucking warm, so creamy, so lewd—all for him.

Becoming more sloppy and unaware in his actions, Sukuna’s growling increases. His current frustrations centered on needing to see more of your creamy slick spurt out of you. 

Somehow all four of his hands are covered in your essence now. The hands with fingers not inside your pussy or rimming your ass, spread your cheeks wider, holding them up as the remaining one pinches your clit crudely. 

Helplessly, ass up, you lay your head down on one of his upper thighs. You drag your nails alongside his hips hoping to disrupt his daze, but on the contrary, it does nothing but spur on Sukuna’s mania further. 

The both of you being high made the situation that much worse. 

Sukuna’s fingers drive you towards oblivion, crashing into ecstasy. The edges of your vision smoldered, blurring your sight. You aren’t sure if the sun had finally set and the stars you saw were in the sky or behind your own lids, momentarily disassociating from pure pleasure. 

With a scream, you cum for the second time, your eyes locked behind your skull and your legs spasming as waves of pleasure make your hips twitch uncontrollably.

Holy fuck!!! You’d never cum that hard while high before! 

Sukuna finally snaps out of his enthralled reverie, only to discover you’ve been reduced to a mere puddle on his torso. Your holes are agape and swollen from his brutality, glistening with fluids that hadn’t stopped dripping onto him yet.

You practically see his smug grin, a fang poking out from his lips, just from his smarmy tone.

“Heh—giving up that easy just from a couple fingers in your cunny, brat? Thought you were gonna fuck me?”

You whine. Even if his own voice sounded a bit strained it was nothing compared to your own condition. Yet despite your rubbery limbs, you muster the strength to push your jellied body up—determined to have your way with him. 

Sukuna chuckles at your persistence.

The mouth on his stomach opens to lap away at the remains of your squirt on his torso and your slick-coated thighs. The thick slimy tongue has you jolting forward with a rippling moan when it flicks over your sensitive clit.

“Heh, woman, you look like shit.”

HA! How are you going to fuck him when you could barely be touched without shaking? 

Sukuna guess you’ll be tapping out before the first round is over, tch—of course you’d need him to take over. 

Testing his condition, Sukuna raises his head only to be immediately slammed with vertigo rushing psychedelic colors behind his eyes. He curses lowly to himself, still pissed the plant is having this much of an effect on him.

Sukuna makes a promise to himself that he will in fact kill you, iif you leave him blue balled because of this. The high causes his cocks to ache more than ever.

“Tch—If you’re going to do it, then do it. Fuck me then, ya nasty lil’ slut.”

Sukuna was right, you are a slut.

Fucked out by his fingers or not, your still aching pussy wouldn’t be satisfied until she was stuffed full of him.

But it would still be on your terms.

Sukuna looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to move and feigning boredom. 

However, his mood turns to annoyance though when he notices you only plan to take his bottom cock, he didn’t work that ass of yous ass open for nothing. 

“BRAT—”

“—SHUT IT and let me concentrate if you wanna get your nut!”

You do quiet him though, once you manage to squeeze his thick cockhead into your cunt. Pussy clenching around his tip like a vacuum suction, you hear Sukuna slurp a thick wad of spit through his teeth as he grinds down on them. 

It was cute, him trying not to react to you, That serves as enough encouragement to keep you from mentally succumbing to the monstrous girth entering you—for now at least.

Easing yourself lower on his fat girth, you’re panting, tongue out and hips quivering just from getting the head of him inside.

You’d learned to take him well enough, but that was when he was the one bullying himself into you. Having to mount him yourself was daunting to say the least. Only halfway in and your guts are shifting while moisture burns the corners of your eyes.

This was the exact reason you chose not to take in both his cocks. 

You would struggle enough with just one of them. 

His cock inside you, already pressed against your cervix, he is almost 3/4ths in and you have no idea how you will manage the rest. Suddenly wondering if Sukuna uses some kind of curse technique to fit all of him inside you without skewing your organs.

“Shiiiiit, f-fuckin’ dummy thick monster c-cock, this b-big for no f-fuckin’ reason…”

You mumble to yourself, clearly floundering.

Sukuna smirks at your labored efforts but his mask cracks as you finally surrender to gravity and bottom out on him—the resulting cry from him is somewhere between a growl and a whine. 

That was the end of resistance for Sukuna. 

His ultra-sensitive cock twitching in the sweltering embrace of your gummy walls, convinced his dick might melt off then and there—the heat, he decided, was most definitely hotter than his divine flames.

Once nside you, Sukuna returns his bruising grip to your hips. His trembling fingers betray the fact he still doesn’t have the capacity to regain control anytime soon. 

Exhaling your own shaky breath, legs under you, you lean back. One of your arms reaching back to plant on his muscular thigh, the other pressing his unattended shaft into the soft curves of your belly, adjusting yourself so its base brushes up against your clit. 

Your warmth welcomes his unsheathed cock like a soft pillow and he’s biting his lips again, blood trickling down his chin.

Although he’s still leaking more than enough pre for lubricant, you still dip your head forward momentarily to drop a large wad of dribble on the cock nestled against your curves. 

Your perverse acts are the cherry on top for Sukuna, who keens out a moan so loud, so needy and pathetic, it has your own toes curling. Fueling you to milk more from him as you bring down your hips harder, morphing The Curse King to goop beneath you.

Your own whimpers are just as obscene from the sight of his length extending past your belly button. It was surreal to see a distinct outer visual of just how deep his inner cock is inside you, you could feel them press together through your skin.

God, he was nearly in your ribs.

“S-Shiiiiiiit—M-MOVE! Ya f-fuckin’ dumbass brat!”

Sukuna yells at you, speech slurring, as his nails prick into your skin slightly. 

You chose not to sass him this time though, too needy for it as well. 

Establishing a rhythm, if you had the capacity to imagine anything beyond how his cock was spearing you open between your thighs—you might have mused that any curses in his palace—Uraume especially, must be absolutely terrified at what has their fearsome master is sobbing so wretchedly.

You’re thrilled at the idea of having transformed the most powerful cursed sorcerer into the crumbling virgin-like man beneath you. 

You feel your body tremble as his swollen member throbs intensely inside you, causing you to sense the rhythmic pulsation of his heart resonating deeply within your being. Sukuna's face, usually composed, now displays an unexpectedly stressed expression, which only adds to his adorableness.

Yet, your own eyes were crossing so bad you couldn’t even enjoy your victory like you want. 

Desperately moaning, you’re lifting yourself up and down, riding him in earnest as you fuck yourself dumb on his huge girth. Just one of Sukuna’s cocks were so intoxicating and you realized, the privilege of actually having him fuck you instead of you doing the work.

In order to guarantee both of your pleasures. 

But you are hardly giving up—slippery fluids create delicious friction as his top cock also slides over your swollen clit.  Your tits bounce lively every time your tight soggy pussy devours his cock back down to the base. The sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room, only overshadowed by Sukuna's unusual cries of pleasure. 

Your inner thighs ache from exertion but you are in the zone now. You’ve willingly become your own torturer as you impale yourself on him. 

Mind floating away as you treat his cock thrusted against your belly like a fidget toy. Your nails mindlessly rim the edges of his foreskin before grasping the tip of his cockhead, sliding the last bit of skin down to fully expose his angry bulbous tip. You squeeze him tightly while your other hand comes from behind you to pump the base. 

While Sukuna’s lower hands still desperately hang on to your hips, he's since thrown one of his upper hands over his face much to his chagrin. The other, claws fully extended, proceeds to tear up the tatami matting of his floor. 

Sukuna’s pitchy whimpers and badly suppressed whines have you so hot you forget yourself once again. Chasing your own pleasure, you pump his upper cock like slippery reigns as you ride him. 

And that is exactly what breaks him. 

Peeking out from under his forearm, Sukuna observes how your head is like a bobble, lulling with your movements as your slackened jaw so dumbly seeps drool down your body. All thought leaving your silly little head, babbling nonsensical coos and praises for his big cock ruining you.

Despite not being in control, Sukuna still feels a strange wave of warmth spread in his chest from watching you fuck yourself completely fucking stupid on him. The feeling instantly has his balls tightening, resulting in his upper cock twitching so violently that it even catches your fucked out attention. 

You glance down just as his engorged length finally relieves itself, spurting out a geyser of cum all over you.

Sukuna releases a moan that is husky, deep and guttural—quite literally guttural—as he had just moaned from the mouth on his stomach. His upper cock is still spraying a hefty load of cum that covers your stomach, thighs and some even shooting up to hit you right below your eye. 

Your eyes widen.

“Did you just moan from your tummy!?”

You’re hardly in the position to tease him though, disheveled and covered in his sticky essence.

You were quite the mess in your own right—heh, but you still weren’t the first to cum! 

Sukuna glares at you, panting through his scowl with watery eyes.

Leaning forward, you continue to taunt him, keeping your hand firmly around his now flaccid member. Sukuna flinches and hisses, attempting to swat your hands away, but he finds himself even more weakened than before, unable to pry you away.

“Hmm, are you trying to tell me you prefer my hands over my pussy?l Or are you just this much of a slut for getting your nasty foreskin played with, Daddy?”

His lower cock pulses at your words, still painfully hard inside you, reminding you of your own needs. You don’t wait for Sukuna’s response before you’re back bouncing on him with increased fervor, pulling at your neglected tits and still giving him shit.

“C’mon Daddy, talk to me. You love it when your lil’ slut rides you while she’s all sticky, covered in your cum, yeah?”

For emphasis your fingers swirl shapes into the streaks of spunk on your belly, sloppily writing out the Kanji for “Sukuna” over your womb.

Sukuna’s face beet red from the anger and shame of having been reduced to a mere plaything for you.

Writing his name on you with his cum!? Fuckin’ debased, foul, nasty wh—

“Oh my, you’re backed up, Daddy. I can feel you twitching—a-ah!”

You snap him out of the turmoil of his thoughts with the lazy lust-filled evil saturated in your voice as you moan out more torturous, mind melting words for Sukuna.

“Y-ou’re gonna have to tell me before you cum, Kuna, kay? You spray this much inside me, with this thick monstrous cock of yours—you’ll get me pregnant, ya know. You wouldn’t want that—or do you?”

Your fingers play in his essence on your belly once more, circling the Kanji cum scribbles of his name branded on your skin. 

“Bet ya wanna fill my tight lil’ pussy to the brim—force me to carry your lil’ curse-spawn-terrors—make you a real daddy, Daddy. You’d like that, huh?”

Sukuna’s sweat slicked hands struggle to hold onto you, throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at you. 

He can’t keep you in his sights as he can’t stop the vision of you, being completely made his—belly full of his growing seed and tits full of milk—from invading his mind. 

Dizzy, Sukuna can only think with his cock as you ride him towards nirvana. He’s almost at his greatly diminished limit again, his stamina now a joke of his usual.  

Chasing your own high, you rub at your clit vigorously while you grind yourself against him. Your pussy spasming around his length that stretches you so well. Body wrecking itself with pleasure, your cries grow louder and more desperate.

So close. You’re so close. So clo—

But Sukuna is first yet again—crooning out a choked roar as he cums again, this time inside you.

With no warning....asshole.

Nevertheless, the satisfying warmth of his seed bursting against your cervix has you moaning from the overwhelmingly full feeling in your guts. Creampie frothing out of you, gathering at the base of his cock. 

You were low key surprised that you were able to goad him into doing it at all. You weren’t seriously trying to get pregnant—just tease him a bit. You didn’t know he’d be this into breeding fantasies, as even though you are on birth control Sukuna for damn sure didn't trust any human pill to stop his cursed seed, always pulling out.

“W-Woah, this makes it, what? The second time you’ve cum before me—and inside me now too!”

The streaks on Sukuna’s furious cheeks leave behind evidence of the few tears you’d managed to fuck out of him.

“Aweee Kuna, should I call ‘Baby’ now? Only babies cry and cream before Mommy does.” 

Sukuna chest heaves, staring death at you as he gives you the finger—one of the few modern gestures he’d picked up. 

You laugh, although your body winces as you slide his thick softening member out of you. 

Globs of your shared fluids drip out of you and onto his torso when you finally will yourself to stand-up over Sukuna, smugness radiating in your whole demeanor.

Desiring to remove that smug expression from your face, as well as your head, he cannot recall a time when he was defeated to such an extent since he was last imprisoned and his fingers were scattered.

Teetering on your cramping legs, you delight in your victory nonetheless. Taking your time in soaking up the image of him, grumpy, soiled, and flaccid, imprinting it in your mind to throw it in his face the next time he decides to get sassy with you.

You know he’s likely going to kill you for what you were about to do, but you’d never get a chance to do something like this again. 

Besides, he surely has weed dick now given his still flaccid cocks and you still need to come!

Sauntering to stand by his head, your soft foot presses down on his clavicle, prompting Sukuna to bare his teeth while a clawed hand comes to wrap around your ankle.

“Heel, Kuna. You still have to make me cum.”

“I don’t have to do fucking shit but make good on my promise to rip you apart once this bullshit wears off.”

You pay him no mind as your foot shifts to raise his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze while your fingers swiftly glide up your inner thighs to spread your pussy lips. His cum still trickling out from the creamy plug that is visibly filling your center. 

“Eat it.”

Sukuna looks at you skeptically, like you just lost the little remaining sanity your crazy ass had in the first place.

Who the fuck did you think you were?

To one—have him take a command from you, and two—actually think he’d let you dominate him in such a way.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Sit on my stomach and I might let you cum, brat.”

“Nuh-uh, Kuna—I wanna ride your actual face. It’s the least you can do after you came before me twice!”

Trying not to visibly wince, Sukuna was so over your nagging and constant reminders of how weak he was while high, trying to tune you out. 

“...and then inside me without warning—like you don’t give a fuck if I happen to get pregnant!”

“I don't, get pregnant.”

“I—wait…WHAT?!”

You must have heard wrong. 

Sukuna would want a lobotomy before a kid. 

He always pulled out. 

He just did not tell you to get pregnant.

No way!

Sukuna growls, he’s admittedly getting tired, but it's clear you wouldn’t give him any rest until you came once more. Well, at least with a mouth full of pussy he couldn’t say anymore wildly embarrassing shit he didn’t mean.

He really didn’t want kids, but picturing you pregnant made his dicks so unfathomably hard in the moment, it was confusing, not to mention infuriating. However, the last damned thing Sukuna wanted to do was talk about his slip up.

Left with no choice but to eat you out nasty enough for you to forget all about it.

“I SAID—If you don’t want to get pregnant, then park that ass of yours on my face, bitch.”

You bristle at Sukuna calling you a bitch, yet you let it pass once all four of his arms yank you down to sit you directly on his face, his tongue plunging straight into your gooey cunt.

And true to his skills, the conversation was the last thing on your mind, having been scrubbed of all thoughts once you felt his hot mouth consuming your sensitive flesh. 

Sukuna's tongue traces torturous circles on your clit, before grazing it with sharp canine, prompting your hands to delve into his unruly locks. The grunts that escape Sukuna's lips as you tug on his hair intensify the pleasurable tingling in your pussy, compelling you to pull even harder.

To your delight, what his primary tongue lacks in girth compared to the one on his stomach, it makes up for in dexterity. Sukuna laps, swirls and twists through your folds. His tongue darts in and out of your wet slit so vulgarly leaking his cum, sending tremors up your spine.

Choking on your whimpers, your hips can’t stop shaking and Sukuna has to brace your thighs down to keep you in place. Sukuna wasn’t about to let you run from it now, not after all the shit you put him through.

You begged to cum in his mouth—so you are going to cum in his fucking mouth.

You cry out when a hand reaches up to manhandle your chest, pinching at your nipples and rolling them between his gruff fingers.  The pair of hands on your thighs move to your ass, gripping your flesh overflowing in his grasp.

Gasping, your mouth falls open, when his fingers massage your ass, spreading it open as he tilts you back to spit into your hole. Replacing his own mouth with one on his hand as he returns his attention back to your savory lil’ cunt.

Shiiiiiit!

Feels so good, you’re so close to cumming again. Your body trembles, the fire inside you spreading from your core to your fingertips as your face contorted in pleasure.

“Su-S-Sukuna, pleeeaseee, Daddy.”

You’re not even sure what you are asking for at this point, you just want more of it. 

More of everything.

Sukuna, obliges you. 

Losing himself in your lust, his panting becomes more wet and ragged. He’s painfully aroused once again, this time simply from listening to your whiney pleas. Sukuna’s tongue digs into your cunt deeper, scooping out his own cum and devouring it along with the continuous flow of your own fluids gushing out of you.

Your taste is much sweeter, cutting the unpleasant taste of his own salty spunk, so Sukuna relentlessly sucks more out of you. 

Sukuna is so caught up in giving you pleasure, he’s completely unaware of the fact he’s now humping the air, cocks flinging pre on his abs as they sway against the imaginary friction.

“K-Kuna, I’mma—shiiiiit—cum!”

You clench a fist full of his hair, nails digging into his scalp. You continuously buck your hips forward, your clit brushing agonizingly up against his nose. Quivering, glorious waves of pleasure wash over you, Sukuna knows all your pleasure spots as he easily takes you to the very heights of your ecstasy.

Sputtering moans nonsensically, you nearly slip off Sukuna completely when you tilt back too far. You unintentionally end up choking him as you catch yourself by grasping onto his neck for support.

Sukuna, caught off guard, gags. The intense vibrations from him choking on your pussy as he heaves for air tips you right over the edge. Your world washes white as you cum, thighs and hips and convulsing. 

Outlasting you this time by a hair, Sukuna cums hard, his milky fluids jetting out from his cocks to spill onto his stomach—shooting up as far as to land on your back.

Dazed from your orgasm you don’t actually realize he'd cum again until you actually slip on the mess he’s made when you begin to climb off his face.

“D’aww, Baby done messed himself bad this time, huh?”

“Perish.”

Weariness seeps through his tone, betraying the fatigue that weighed on him after cumming even harder than the previous two times.

Silence fills the space as neither of you noticed before how the sun had long since set. The soft moonbeams were the only source of light in his chambers, illuminating the space more than usual, due to the now destroyed wall.

Your bones feel like mush but you still manage to grab Sukuna’s discarded robe, using it to somewhat wipe off your bodies. 

Sukuna doesn’t register how intensely he’s staring at you, having dissociated once more. 

His arrogance is replaced by a strange look of infatuation—well strange for him.

Sukuna is lost again, charmed by your shining aura in the lunar light. The very essence of your soul glows iridescently to him, even in darkness.

He muses there’s not a being, human nor curse, as captivating as y—TCH, THE FUCK?!

Whatever you gave him was turning him into a real fuckin’ sap, thats for damn sure. 

Sukuna needed this nightmare to be over, and have neither of you ever speak of it again.

You on the other hand are doing your best to fight the urge to bashfully shrink away. There were typically only 3 emotions that ever appeared on Sukuna’s face: brooding, predatory or straight up hostile.

Him looking at you this way is freaking you out.

“You’re a weirdo.”

Sukuna exhales, exasperated. 

He doesn’t know what to do with you. His troublesome lil’ human that, for some insane reason, he’d formed an attachment to beyond using as a cocksleeve.

“Then you’re a dumb slut who likes to fuck weirdos, brat.”

Shoving your face into his neck, you inhale the scent of his skin and your sex.

“Got me there, Daddy.”

Nibbling up to his chin, one of his arms wrap around you, bringing you impossibly closer when your teeth graze over his sweat slicked Adam's apple. 

Grinning at him, you lick up any of your essence lingering on his face.

“You know, I’m going into the city with Uraume next week—I could get some more of this shit, we could actually smoke it next time, hm?”

“You could also be a corpse scattered in a million pieces by then.”

Although Sukuna’s yawns sound more like roars, he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed at his displays of weakness any longer. The edible enhanced the stated feelings of the after sex high, amplifying it a hundred fold and making him unusually docile. 

Even if Sukuna could now understand why mortals do this for “fun”, he personally just never wanted near the stuff again—let alone in his fucking palace.

But he’d fight you over that later.

“Moreover, I will literally never eat any of your concoctions again.”

You’re yawning too, the effect being contagious as the question absentmindedly slips from your lips.

“...Hm, s’that so? *yawn* ….Well why did ya in the first place, Kuna?”

Tsk, stupid woman—because you made them, of course.

Sukuna said it in his head. 

Sukuna swore he said it in his head.

But when you immediately bolt upright, eyes expanding like saucers, he knows he fucked up. 

Attempting to recover, he tacks on a brash comment. Remarking on how he knew consuming them all would piss you off—oh and it had—but in this case, the damage had already been done.

Concern flashing across your eyes, you hurriedly brush your fingers through his rosy locks. Picking and prodding, firmly turning his head from side to side, until Sukuna’s own hands entrap yours, pausing your frantic actions.

“And just what the fuck are you doing now, woman?!”

“Checking for stitches.”

Sukuna gives a disgruntled snort, scoffing at your foolishness.

“I’m serious! Kenjaku’s not in there with you, is he?!”

“You must actually think I won’t kill you, brat….”

You giggle softly, satisfied with his answer as you peck tender kisses on his lips but Sukuna is unmoved. 

Sukuna hardly ever kisses you to be fair—but you’d just fucked him to tears! 

The least he can do to repay you is a kiss!

“C’mon Kuna, stick out your tongue a lil’ for me.”

Sukuna stares at you unamused.

“Aweee—Please, Daddy?”

Your words hang in the air, a rebuttal poised on the edge of his lips. 

But upon meeting your bright angelic eyes, Sukuna in a moment of unexpected impulse, closes the gap between you. 

Your lips clash as you breathe in one another. The kiss is less urgent than your earlier cravings, but just as filled with desire. A tumultuous dance of tongues and teeth, fueled by some magnetic pull that would likely never be vocalized in words—yet you still feel everything Sukuna leaves unsaid.

You smile once he allows you to pull back for air, blowing a kiss at him before resting your head back on his chest. Your body easily molds over him and his remaining arms snake around your form.

All of Sukuna’s eyes were closed, the welcome heaviness behind his lids extending down through his entire being.

Honestly, this is the most at peace he’s been in centuries. 

“Mmm…one more question, Kuna?”

Of course, you would be the one to disturb that though.

“Only if you promise to go the fuck to sleep after, brat.”

You nod into his chest, your hands only cupping a tiny part of his biceps as your manicured nails trace along his tattoos.

“How’d they taste?”

Seriously? 

You’re fucking insufferable. 

But Sukuna is way too over it all to fight you right now.  His entire body feels akin to a giant sandbag with every passing second.

“Decent. Now sleep.”

Your shrill squeal has him regretting his compliment immediately. 

“Aweee Kuna, Daddy! You big softie! Next you’ll be telling me you love me, huh?”

Tsk, and this is exactly why Sukuna would fuck you unconscious—so he didn’t have to put up with your nonsensical overly emotional prattling after. The intimacy of pillow talk has him queasier than the vertigo he’d experienced earlier. 

“I loathe you.”

“Love you t—”

Faster than you can react, his powerful hands move, grappling your head down and clamping over your mouth instantly.

“SLEEP!”

Listening to the grumbles resonating in his chest from Sukuna's unintelligible muttered curses, you hum contentedly with his hand over your mouth, a simple ghost of a smile lingering on your lips as you ease into a comforting slumber.

The next morning, you are stirred awake by blinding sunlight.

Still lethargic from the night before, and totally not a morning person, you try to roll over. Yet you find yourself unable to move. 

Huh?

Wanting to rub your eyes clear of sleep, you become aware that your hands, for some reason, are behind your back and are also immobilized.

Panic begins to set in. You fear it might be a bad bout of sleep paralysis—that is, until you hear Sukuna’s dark voice bellow over you sarcastically.

“Oh? What’s this? The lazy whore finally arises…”

Heart pounding anxiously, your bleary eyes open to the vision of Sukuna’s form towering over you next to his bed. 

Ok, at least he had the decency to—

A flash of red catches your eye.

Oh, fuck…

Entangled in the shibari frog-tie position—you are bound in complex knots. The thick silk crimson ropes intricately weave their way around your naked body. 

Tied with seasoned precision, the visually striking pattern of the ropes accentuated your body’s serpentine contours. Knees bent, your plump thighs are spread wide and apart, which secure to your calves. 

You feel a chill run through you as the early morning air breezes past your cunt, fully exposed as the ropes are the only thing adorning you.

Equally excited as you are terrified, your squirms cause the diamond cut pattern to imprint deeper into your supple skin. Shivering under his smolder, goosebumps erupt across your skin and fat tears well on the edges of your eyes.

Sukuna sinks low to crouch over you.

“Now, now—”

His powers fully restored, the depraved smirk Sukuna wears is the most chilling you’d ever seen.

“—you didn’t delude your silly little head into thinking I wouldn’t get my turn, now did you?”

Sukina cups your face, the mouth on his hand savoring your tears.

The harsh reality donning upon you as to how fucked you really are in this situation right now.

Shifting his grasp to squeeze your cheeks, Sukuna forces your mouth open. 

Fully awake, your eyes nearly pop out of your head as Sukuna unveils a platter—the same platter bearing the last remaining manju edible.

“Now fucking say ‘ahh’ for Daddy, brat.”

©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.

» a/n: what you think of 420 Sukuna? Hopefully it wasn't too long/dragged on? this is meant to be a one shot btw. im really not trying to do a p2 (please, lmfao i cant). i still have a toji 420 fic half written and an idea for nanami but putting those on the back burner to finish another installment of otaku!gojo or nerd geto p2, one of those will be next. i promise! taglist will be in reblogs.

comments & reblogs make my coochie cream

[targaryenluvs]

BOOTS / TIM BRADFORD & LUCY CHEN

PAIRINGS: Dark!Tim Bradford & Dark!Lucy Chen x Fem!Rookie!Reader

SUMMARY: You never noticed just how dedicated your two best friends were to keeping you safe, and theirs.

WARNINGS: Overprotectiveness, fighting/violence jealousy, flirting, forced relationship, suggestive behaviour (makeouts, sub r, dom!Tim & soft dom!Lucy, fingering, handcuffs, p in v, threeway)

WORD COUNT: 5.2K Words

A/N: Dark!Chenford is a must have 🤭I had to turn to my roots for some smut cause who wouldn’t want to be in between these two?? I may have gotten carried away at 5k words 😭 (for the sake of this pretend pto’s can have two rookies) NOT PROOFREAD special order for my girl @lady-ashfade

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

They always had your back, which you found comfort in.

Whether it be standing up for you, or tearing in a new one to the woman who got your order wrong after you’d already given a smile and taken what was served. (It may or may not have been Tim yelling whilst Lucy fiddled with her nails.)

You were so close to them, since your day one on the job Lucy had been nothing but a sweetheart. Fixing your hair for you, ordering your food for you or just giving you a smile when your day was particularly gruelling. She, along with Nolan and West were your best friends. But Lucy went above and beyond when it came to you, even if you didn’t notice at times.

And Tim, was a special case. Of course at first all Rookies got the roughest side of him. But overtime Tim noticed the little things about you. And at first he figured it was you trying your hardest to kiss up to your T.O and everyone else. But he soon came to realise that you were naturally this nice. Always helping anyone where you could when they asked, even with out ask at times.

But that was the problem.

Tim found you to be in need of him, someone to properly guide you rather than your idiot of a T.O who couldn’t care less about you. You were nice, too nice for your own good. He could help in that department.

You entered the break room in the mood for about a million cups of coffee. As you reached for a cup another Rookie cut in front of you before grabbing the pot. You took a step back allowing him to fill his cup up, he was probably tired and lacking manners, so you let him continue. But if there was one person who wouldn’t?

“Hey, you cut in front of her. Pass your cup over to her and move to the back of the line.” Tim startled the Rookie in question so much that he spilled it all over himself. He’d been here for about two days in a trial week. Lucy had a feeling he wouldn’t be here much longer.

You, being you, jumped straight in to help the ass, “Here’s a napkin, you should go change. Maybe take a shower and see a doctor if there are any burns okay?” He nodded before rushing out the door, but not before shoving a cup into your hands.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened, you put the cup down, ready to reprimand the two but when you turned around you realised you couldn’t exactly reprimand two officers above you.

“Thanks for standing up for me but—,”

“No problem sweetheart, how’s your paperwork going?” Tim asked as he poured a cup for himself and his girlfriend. You always noticed him doing stuff like that for her so she didn’t have to, as if it was second nature for him. But he also did the same for you, not that you noticed. “Uhm… it’s going well.” You tried to continue on but the two of them interrupted you every time.

You sighed in defeat as you stirred in sugar, Tim and Lucy sat on either side of you, personal space be damned. You hadn’t realised how often Tim and Lucy used nicknames with you, or sat close to you, or defended you.

Was this normal?

“What’s going on in that little head of yours?” Lucy smiled at you as your cheeks flushed, “I— uhm,” You heard Tim’s laughter from your right, “You’ve got her blushing Chen.” Your head snapped his way before shaking your head, “No! It’s just, warm.” You fiddled with the cuff of your long sleeve as Tim and Lucy admired.

You were so adorable, always with a smile on your face. You could never handle it when they flirted with you, and they took every chance they could get to see you go red. They loved to do it, and they did it so often that you’d basically become accustomed to it. That didn’t mean it was easier to handle with two gorgeous people, especially when they’re older and in charge.

Tim loved talking to you. Just hearing your voice was enough to bring a rare smile to his face. When you were truly impassioned in a topic he could tell, so could she. You’d sit up straighter in your seat, your hand movements increased and so did your eye contact.

But with him and Lucy? You never could keep eye contact. Again, adorable aren’t you?

But what Lucy hated was when you were interrupted. It’d been a few minutes of you talking at them about a call of yours from the day before, in which your T.O had made you answer a call on your own whilst on the phone with his wife. You never noticed, but Lucy’s firsts curled up, and Tim’s hand rested on his gun.

The anger that surged through their bodies at your T.O’s irresponsible behaviour was unmatched. How dare he send someone so fragile on their own? Did he understand how special you were?

Tim’s hand moved from his gun to his radio as you continued. You’d ended up in an altercation with two armed suspects, but you’d managed to subdue them both by bursting a nearby pipe which then sprayed the pair. By the time you had both cuffed to a dumpster your T.O, Jim, waltzed in and smiled.

“And then he just, smiled. He told me he was surprised I could get the job done and that maybe I did deserve my short sleeves. It seemed so targeted and sexist. As if he couldn’t believe that a woman could handle herself. But he apologised later.” Tims brow rose as Lucy titled her head, “He apologised to you?”

Your head turned to Lucy as you crinkled your nose, “Well, not outright. But he did pay for our lunch and ordered me extra. He let me drive too. That’s his way of saying thanks.” Someone was going to have to hold Tim back from beating the life out of this dickhead.

First, he leaves you alone against two armed suspects to see what’s for dinner, then, after you did an amazing job on your own, he underestimates you.

With the worst timing in the world, in walks Jim, “Ah there you are boot. Finished the work have you? Good girl.” You and Lucy visibly cringed at his words as Tim had had enough, “The hell did you just call her?” Your T.O frowned as Tim stood in front of him menacingly, hand on his holster.

“None of your business, she’s my boot.” Jim turned back to his coffee as Tim inhaled, “Leave the room you two.” Jim scoffed as you both got up, “Yes, let the men speak huh?” Lucy rolled her eyes as she guided you out, she and Tim shared a moment and a look that screamed ‘Fuck him up.’ Jim smiled before reaching for the creamer, but it was snatched up by Tim.

“You think you’re funny? Being a sexist dick to your Rookie?” Tim prayed that Jim would try something, anything. As long as it allowed him to beat him into the floor. “Again Timmy, she’s my rookie. That’s the whole point of us Trainers, to toughen them up. You don’t question my methods and I won’t yours. Pretty little thing like that’s probably glided through here.” Tim grabbed him by the shoulder before pushing him against the wall.

“Testy are we? You and Chen have a thing for her?”

“Don’t fucking call me that. And I’ll question whatever I want, when I want. And don’t talk about them like that.” The mention of you and Lucy was more than enough to set him off, and he wasn’t sure if he could stop himself.

Lucy ushered you into her Tim’s shop as you kept asking her questions, “Why am I in here?” Lucy sighed as she rested her hands on her belt, “I don’t exactly think you’ll be riding with him today. Best if you ride with us, I’ll go alert Grey to whats happening, just stay safe in here.” And just like that, she was leaving for the door.

“Messing with me is one thing, with her? Bad idea.” Tim shoved him against the wall again before whispering into his ear.

Tim, Lucy, you and Jim all stood in Grey’s office.

He stood with his hands on his belt, trying to process what he’d been told. “Sergeant, Officer Bradford attacked me in the break room when all I did was simply address my rookie.” Tim and Lucy’s faces simultaneously contorted in disgust at his accentuation on ‘my’.

“Save it Jim. I heard what actually happened through Officer Bradfords radio. Officer Bradford, you’re not yet excused for inciting violence with a fellow officer. Your overtime is cancelled for over a month, you’ll be having a reprimand as well as a month of anger management training courtesy of the department. The rest of your punishment will be applied later. Officer Chen, Officer L/N, you may both go.”

Lucy and you smiled and acknowledged him before glancing at Tim, ‘I’ll be fine.’ he mouthed at the two of you. The door closed behind you as you looked back into the office to see Greys hands waving around. He was pissed and so was Tim. He had to stand next to this guy.

“Hey are you okay Y/n/n?” The two of you were currently filling out paperwork together to kill time whilst you waited for Tim, you glanced back up at her with a smile, “Yeah I’m fine, just glad Bradford stood up for me. But I feel bad now, he’s in there with Grey whilst I’m here.” Lucy’s hand covered yours as she offered her comfort.

“Baby none of this is your fault, Jim is a moron and stuck in the 70’s. You’re an amazing cop and you’ll be even better as the years pass and you learn. But you’ll learn a lot more from another T.O than him. And T— Officer Bradford,” she corrected herself, “He stuck up for you because you don’t deserve to be disrespected like that. No one will ever say those things, we promise.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her words, never having someone who cared about you so much that they’d hurt someone else.

Hypothetically of course. Right?

Tim came back grumpy, which wasn’t a new thing. But he couldn’t help but feel something at the view he has. You and Lucy, shoulder to shoulder, giggling away. At his desk nonetheless. You really were meant for them.

“Alright, you’re sticking with us for the next few weeks L/N. Until you’re reassigned to a new T.O.” Tim stood in front of you as you glanced to him, “What’s happening to Jim?” Tim scoffed as he turned to the side before shaking his head and staring at his shoes, “What he deserves. He’s out of here, don’t worry about him. Not while we’re here.” Lucy nodded in agreement as she picked up your paperwork and hers, “We’re done here.”

“Good, get to our gear, boots.”

And for the next few weeks you found yourself closer to Lucy and Tim than ever. In the physical sense being you and them in the same car for every shift. In the mental and emotional sense of having more time together, on calls together, eating together at times and clocking out together. Usually to go to one of their apartments to wind down and have dinner. So close to them to the point where you found yourself in the middle of them.

The tension was thick, whenever you three were alone.

Lucy and Tim were undeniably hot, and you knew that. And so did they. The two of them were absolute menaces when it came to teasing you. Whether it be Tim or Lucy, both or alone. They wanted you all for themselves, and they will have you.

You prided yourself on making a mean cup of coffee.

Before joining the force, coffee was a once in a whole situation but since? It’s your saving grace and addiction. Your body would probably stop functioning without. Another thing you couldn’t survive without would be music. It’s why you stood in the breakroom with your airpods in.

“Boo.” You jumped at the whisper in your ear only to bump right into your new T.O. “Tim!” You jolted as he laughed at your reaction, “You should be more aware of your surroundings L/N.” Taking a napkin you quickly cleaned the mess on the table before putting a lid on your coffee. “Sorry Sir, I’ll pay more attention.”

His lips involuntarily twitched at the notion of you calling him ‘sir’. It was usually Officer Bradford or when you were pissed off, Bradford. Not much of a change but for you it was the equivalent of flipping him the bird. Tim found it cute.

“You’re good.” He spoke before leaning behind you to grab a cup of his own. Your breath hitched as you felt his broad chest pressed against your back. As he poured his cup, he glanced at you, “You okay there Boot?” Your eyes darted around the room, looking anywhere that wasn’t at him. “Fine, I’ll be in the— somewhere.”

He leaned against the table as you shuffled out of the room as quick as possible. God you were cute.

Lucy leaned against the doorway with a smile, “You’re gonna have her malfunctioning at this point Bradford.” Tim grinned as she approached him, taking a sip of his coffee, “Then maybe we can fix her Chen.” He whispered before taking a sip of his own.

“And how would we do that?”

“Might need to lay her down, undress—,”

“Tim!” Lucy yelped as she covered his mouth as a muffled “What?” came out. “You can’t stay stuff like that here!” He rolled his eyes before peeling the palm of her hand away from his mouth. “Did you not talk for about twenty minutes about how badly you wanted to kiss—,” For the second time Lucy shut him up.

“Shh!”

It had been a long shift for all three of you.

You’d barely gotten time to catch your breath with how many calls were coming through. There was a concert on in town and apparently that resulted in all hell breaking loose. Merch trucks had been highjacked, fake tickets and scams everywhere resulting in fights.

Tim didn’t personally understand the reason for all the chaos, “It’s like your favourite team coming to play in L.A and there are also a bunch of fake fans wanting to go. Along with scammers waiting to make money. People go crazy over the things they love Tim.”

He knew that, he had you.

“Yeah but actual sports? That I understand. Some singer who’s going to walk around a stage? Boring.” You and Lucy rolled your eyes as you gave up on explaining it to him. You were currently out at dinner for once, suggested by Lucy.

“I like it better when we stay home.” Tim muttered as he surveyed the restaurants terrace. There were currently three other couples surrounding them. “Me too honestly.” Lucy was surprised by your agreement as Tim was overjoyed, “See? Two against one.” Lucy shrugged before returning to the drinks menu, “We need to get out once in a while.”

We. Not you and I, we. It was those word choices that made you wonder, did they consider you apart of their relationship?

Lucy’s hand rested over Tim’s as the waiter approached, “My names Jack and I’ll be serving you tonight. What will you be having miss?” He waited for you whilst you sorted through the menu, “I’m going to go very simple, can I get the chicken fettuccine and garlic bread?”

He quickly jotted your order down with a smile, “Great choice.” You smiled at the praise, “Thanks Jack.” His smile was wide and sweet as his gaze lingered, a sharp cough caused the two of you to break away.

Tim’s hold on the menu was tight, shaping crescent indents into the leather exterior as he watched the waiter, Jake was it? Who cares, he should stop eyeing you up and do his job. But why were you responding to him? Keeping eye contact and laughing.

His cough caused you to finally stop ogling him as Tim barked his order at him, whilst Lucy hid her laugh behind the menu. She hated how this random guy thought he could come up to her girl and charm her. Maybe if she showed her gun off he would—

“And drinks?” Tim scanned over the variety of wines as you got up, “I’m going to head to the restroom.” Tim and Lucy nodded as you placed your purse on the table, “Uhh, where is it?” Jack smiled, “I’ll take you there.” He tucked the menus under his arm, “Lead the way!”

Lucy’s hold on Tim’s hand was deadly as the two of them stared daggers into Jacks head. Who did this guy think he was? “Why the hell is she still taking to him? What happened to the restroom?” Lucy complained as Tim straightened in his chair. “I don’t know, but we have to let her know it’s not allowed.”

And that came in the form of coming back to the table to find your food packaged for take away.

You crossed your arms as you stopped in front of your chair, “First of all, I love those bathrooms. Second, how the hell is the food here so quickly? And third, why is it for takeaway?” Tim abruptly stood as his chair slid back, bumping into the railing, his hand in Lucy’s whilst she grabbed the bag.

“We’re leaving, now.” His voice was stern and Lucy’s face seemed to be void of the smile from moments ago. “Wait what?” Tim’s hand wrapped around your wrist as he led you into the elevator.

“Why are we leaving? Also, I can walk myself, no offence.” His grip on you only tightened as you winced, you quickly contracted your wrist from his hand. Soothing it by running your hands over it, the pain was low but the mark sure as hell would show soon.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Eyebrows furrowed slightly, you pulled your lips into a line, “Nothing Lucy. What’re you two doing? Are you okay?”

“Do you find it fun? Flirting in front of us?” Tim sounded genuinely angry, which was never a good sign. The elevator opened as you followed the two of them, eventually ending up with one behind and in front. Tim silently opened the back door for you, climbing in to turn towards him you were met with a slamming door.

Flirting? They were angry because you flirted? Do they expect you to never talk to anyone that wasn’t them? Yes the waiter was cute, but you only talked him about the Marvel Captain America necklace he had on. If they were angry, then did this mean you were in a relationship?

You turned to view the two of them behind the car, they were plotting intently. As Tim’s hands drew her closer in, and his lips landed on hers you couldn’t help but watch and have no idea who you wanted to be in the scenario. When Tim’s eyes flicked up, you turned to the front of the car. This was going to be an awkward ride home.

You were right, the ride home was dead silent.

Tim’s hand was interlaced with Lucy’s, right infront of you and you couldn’t help but feel as if they were rubbing their relationship in your face. So instead of sitting in the middle as per usual, you shifted over to the window. At least the night was nice.

Lucy couldn’t help but smile as she noticed your jealousy. Tim was right, this showed just how much you wanted to be with them. When they kissed you couldn’t look away until looked at, and their holding hands pissed you off to the point where you switched seats. When you were with them, you were always in the middle.

When you reached Tim’s place you were the first to get out of the car, not bothering to wait for the couple. “You think we went too far?” Lucy asked Tim, as much as she loved riling you up, she felt sad by your annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to kiss and hold you.

Tim on the other hand, was pissed off beyond relief. He had to refrain from beating the shit out of the waiter and kissing you at the restaurant. But he figured, your first time should be special.

“No, we haven’t. She needs to learn.”

As you entered his apartment you couldn’t deny the fact that it did indeed feel like home. You shook your heels off in the doorway, as Lucy and Tim removed their shoes. They’d told you to dress nicely but they were both dressed normally. You being in a dress felt out of place when they weren’t done up like you were for the night.

Tim’s bed was practically calling your name, “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was stern and unwavering. You internally groaned, what the hell had you done wrong? “To bed, what else Tim?” You rolled your eyes, bad idea.

He pushed you against the wall, towering over you. “You think you’re funny?” He was overwhelming, his cologne lingered and Lucy watched on amused. Was she rubbing her legs—

“Don’t look at her, look at me. Answer the question.” His hands were placed on either side of your head, “No, I don’t think I’m funny. I’m sorry.” Tim narrowed his eyes as you squirmed under his gaze, “Sorry for what baby?” You stared down at your feet before he grabbed your chin, “For flirting.”

“So you know what you did wrong?” You nodded meekly at Lucy’s question. “You know, a Rookie has to be taught lessons right?” You nodded again, “And whose Rookie are you?” The bottom of your dress was smooth between your fingertips as you nervously fidgeted.

“Yours.”

“I’m sorry but you have to be taught baby.” His hand slowly moved up your thigh, and under your dress. Tim never looked away from you, even as his hand grazed over your panties. Your breath hitched as his hand slipped past the elastic band, “Tim!” You moaned out as you held onto his shoulders.

“What’s wrong? Use your words baby.” Lucy spoke as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. She moved your hair away, allowing herself free roam of your neck as she surged forwards. “Please.”

“Let’s take you to the bed huh?” You nodded vehemently at Tim’s suggestion as he picked you up bridal style. He laid you down on the bed as you shuffled back. Tim and Lucy stood side by side, the grins never leaving their faces. “What do you think Lucy? How’d you feel when Y/n was talking to Jack?”

At the mention of his name your heart began to race, you were nervous, why were they talking about him?

“Angry, and jealous. You?”

Tim nodded, “I did too. I think we should teach you a lesson. And if you’re good then, maybe, we’ll let you go.” You swallowed air before nodding. “Words baby.” Lucy’s voice was soft as she came to sit behind you, laying your head in her lap. “Y-yes.”

“If you feel uncomfortable then say so.” She whispered into your ear as you nodded. “You’re so cute, you know that right?” You shook your head, “No, you’re just being sweet.” Lucy frowned at your low confidence, “You are. Okay? Never let anyone tell you any different. You’re so gorgeous, and kind and sweet. I love you.” Lucy smiled as your wide eyes looked up at her, full of love.

“I— I love you too.” She closed the distance between the two of you quickly, you’d been wanting to kiss her for so long. Her hands trailed along the neckline of your dress, cold hands brushing over your chest as you gasped, allowing her to slip her tongue in.

“Having fun without me?” Tim joked as Lucy withdrew, “Maybe, why? Jealous?” She teased as he shook his head, “That’s her job.” Tim alluded to you as you rolled your eyes, “Is not.” Lucy chuckled at your words.

“Keep rolling your eyes and I’ll give you a reason to.” Tim’s hands were on your thighs again, following the same route as last time and ending up in the same place. You turned your head, trying to bury your face into Lucy’s thighs as Tim removed your underwear. He trailed his hand up and down, collecting your slick.

“So wet, you know how long we’ve wanted to see this?” Tim’s lips met yours as he pushed a finger in, causing you to groan. “There we go, let it out for me.” You wrapped your arms around Tim’s neck, trying to pull him closer. Lucy’s hands slowly removed her own top, then her jeans.

You tugged at Tim’s shirt as he laughed, “Want me to take it off?” Your eager nod was more than enough for him to slide his finger out of you, but not before Lucy took it into her mouth.

You were going to explode. Lucy stared into Tim’s eyes as she detatached from his finger with a ‘pop’. Lucy worked on his belt buckle as Tim removed his shirt before chucking it behind him. “Take your dress off.” You did not need to be told twice.

As you lifted your dress you were met with helping hands, their eyes raked over you eagerly. Tim leaned in again, and as you closed your eyes you heard something.

Click!

Fucking handcuffs. “Wait— are you kidding me?” You tugged at the handcuffs as Tim spoke, “You didn’t think we forgot did you?” You rolled your eyes, “I was being good.” You muttered. Tim was not a fan.

He smushed your face in his hands, “You’re being a brat, now sit and watch.” Tim kissed Lucy’s neck as she raked her hands through his hair, “Oh god.” He made his way down to her chest as she laid down onto the bed. Tim unhooked her bra as he took one of her tits into his mouth. You wanted nothing more than to touch.

But you were forced to sit and listen.

Even as he pounded into her and you writhed against the cuffs. “You feel so good.” Tim groaned, his fingertips were digging into her hips as she clutched onto the sheets. “Fuck Lucy.” He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to moan out.

You couldn’t help but rub your thighs together for the smallest ounce of relief. But Tim never made it easy for you. He slid out of her pussy, as she whined, “So close.” Tim stroked her cheek, “I know baby, I know.” He lifted her up easily with one arm, making her face you before laying her down. “Y/n’s gonna watch.” Lucy lifted her back from the bed as she felt herself peak.

“F-fuck Tim!” She shouted as Tim fastened his pace, “You feel so good.” He groaned before releasing into her. He slowly pulled out, letting Lucy catch her breath as she laid down on the pillows. “You okay?” He muttered as he kissed her cheek, she nodded. “Wanna see you and her.”

Your eyes glistened with excitement, “Please, take the cuffs off.” Tim was feeling nice, so he reached for the key and unlocked you. You first soothed your wrist before Tim dragged you by your ankles.

“Open your legs.” You slowly opened them for him. His hands immediately found your waist, mimicking circles along them. He never strayed too close, only trailing up and down, “Please Tim.”You wanted to cry. “Please what?” He responded calmly.

Tim loved seeing you like this, a whiny mess for him. The tears welled up in your eyes as you clenched them shut, allowing a few to fall down. “Use your words sweetie, just like I taught you.” You shook your head in embarrassment, you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt, dirty. His calm demeanour was gone in an instant as his finger slipped back into you, “Please touch me.”

Lucy couldn’t help to admire you, they finally had you.

“There we go.” He praised as he moved swiftly up your slit; gathering your slick to spread around your clit. "Yeah, there's my girl, you feel good?” Your high pitched moan was more than enough of an indication, “S-so good Tim.” As if his fingers weren’t enough, he pumped his cock a few times before teasing your hole.

You arched off the bed as soon as he pushed himself in, fat tip bullying its way into you whilst your nails dug into Lucy’s arm, “I got you baby.” She spoke as her hand came up to your breast, teasing it before bringing it into her mouth. “Oh fuck!” You screeched as you felt her tongue drag along your nipple.

Tim eased himself out, and back in as his hand trailed up to your neck, squeezing it as your hand held onto his wrist, “You like that huh?” You nodded in agreement, tears were flowing freely from the overstimulation. This was literally straight out of dream. He grinned at you when your eyes rolled back, encouraging, "Go for it, feels good baby. You feel so good.” Lucy captured your lips as you groaned into her mouth.

The pressure was so intense, you kept writhing on the bed. “I-I’m so close Tim.” He took it as a personal mission to make you cum, grabbing one of your legs and angling it up, his hand in the crevice behind your leg. With the new angle he was able to meet new parts, your babbles were incoherent as he laughed, “Fucked you so good you can’t even talk.” He taunted you as he thrusted his cock in between your drenched folds.

Lucy’s hand trailed down, a sticky mess waiting in between her legs, seeing Tim manhandle you was more than enough. “Bet you dreamed of this, of me.” Tim continued to pound into you harshly, cock gliding easily against your inner walls.“Yes! Yes! Harder!” you cried out.

“Baby found her words huh?”

You nodded as you steadied yourself by holding onto his biceps, Tim was nothing but fit. You’d always wanted to see him under the uniform, his large arms always looked incredible in short sleeves. Tim’s hand moved from your neck to your clit as he sent you over the edge, following closely. Your hand reached up to caress his neck. Thank yous spilled out from you.

You laid in the middle of Tim and Lucy, fast asleep as they watched on.

“She’s so sweet and peaceful when she’s sleeping.” Lucy cooed as she stroked your cheek lovingly, “She tired herself out, of course she’s gonna sleep well afterwards.” Tim’s hand was on your hip under the sheets, caressing the soft skin absentmindedly. “She did so well.”

“She did, knew she could take it.”

“So what are we?” Lucy waited for Tim’s response.

“Whatever we want to be.”

[pshaven]

APPLE CIDER lee heeseung ౨ৎ

synopsis! your new roommate, heeseung, seems to underestimate just how naive you really are when you catch him in a compromising situation. wc! 5k cw! perv!hee, switch!heeseung & switch!reader but make it competitive, voyeurism(??), size kink if u squint, male masturbation, degradation, praising, oral (m!receiving), grinding, riding, no protection (Plz wrap it), hee a FREAAKKK, creampie, unspoken aftercare but like barely??, hee calls reader baby, good girl, slut, i think that's it lmk if i missed any!

BREAK THE SKIN M.LST

previous > next

“jay, i do not have time for a party right now!” you complain, getting dragged by your best friend into some frat party. he’s been urging you to get your mind off of your living situation, as it seems like it’s all you can think about these past few weeks. 

thanks to your idiot landlord, he’s made some overlap in the house you’re supposed to be living in for the next school year, thus leaving you in the dust since the other tenant had a better credit score than you (you can thank your impulse purchases for that). so you’ve been crashing at jay’s place for a bit and you’re starting to get sick of the boy house smell, and have been wanting to get out as soon as possible. 

unfortunately, the odds seem to not be in your favor as it seems like everyone you know doesn’t know anyone else who’s been looking for a roommate. 

“yeah, but you said it yourself! you’re sick of… the ‘boy’ smell at my place. you’re not smelling it anymore, right?” he teases, using air quotes as the both of you arrive at the front door and exchanging a nod with the frat boy at the front before walking inside. you huff out a sigh, releasing your wrist from jay’s grip. he is right in some way.. you’ve been looking nonstop for some place to stay at and you do need a break at some point. 

you hear someone call jay’s name, approaching the two of you. “hey, jay, nice to see you!” they greet, and you excuse yourself because you refuse to stand there awkwardly as the two of them catch up. you make your way to the kitchen, seeing the multiple bottles of different alcohol brands lined up on the island and you scrunch your nose. you and jay never talked about who’s being the designated driver tonight, so you decide to be safe and just have something else. 

you find a cooler beside the counter on the floor, hoping there’s something for you to drink. bending down and opening the cooler, another hand invades your view of your options and you see that they’ve grabbed the last bottle of apple juice. you frown a bit, searching through the ice cubes to only find gatorade and lemonade left.

you stand up, shutting the cooler with a hefty sigh, a clear pout on your face that doesn’t go unnoticed by the culprit who stole the last apple juice. “oh, oops. did you want this?” he asks, tearing the straw from the carton and poking it in. as if he’s taunting you, he’s slightly shaking the juice in his hand. 

“oh, it’s alright. i’m sure i can just have something else…” you mumble, but offer a smile to him anyway since he was nice enough to offer it to you. 

he nods, “good. i wasn’t gonna give it up anyway.” he gives you a boyish grin, sipping the juice in front of you like he’s doing it on purpose, in the most menacing way possible. his words have you choking your thoughts, eyes narrowing at this ridiculous(ly handsome) boy in front of you, innocently sipping at his apple juice. 

“wh- you dick??” you gape, brows furrowing in frustration. your hands think on their own, reaching up for his juice carton and squeezing at the sides so that the juice goes to spill all over his clothes. and it’s his turn to gape at you, eyes wide and mouth open in shock as he comprehends what you just did. 

“morning,” you hear a grumble from behind you, a sleepy heeseung clad in plaid pajama pants and a teen titans t-shirt making loud footsteps towards you in the kitchen. you raise your brow at him as you turn around, holding a cup of apple juice in your hands.

“umm, don’t you have a ten am class today? it’s eleven,” you inform him curiously, watching his eyes still try to blink open from sleep as he’s opening the fridge in haste. he throws his head back, groaning loudly and proceeds to stomp on the ground like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“you finished the apple juice?!” heeseung whines, lips forming a pout like you did that night at the party, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. you roll your eyes, setting your half-finished cup of juice on the counter and sliding it towards him as if it’s your nth time dealing with this (it is. it happens every time at the end of the week). 

he gratefully takes your cup, chugging down the apple juice before licking his lips in satisfaction. he completely ignores your question, passing you to get to the sink to wash the mug. you turn your body to look at him again, head tilted to the side curiously as you watch his lazy hands scrubbing the soap sloppily on the cup. 

he’s extra sleepy this morning, and he’s usually not the type to skip his classes (surprisingly), especially not his important classes that impact his major. “are you okay?” you ask him once he finishes, setting the cup upside down to dry. 

heeseung pauses in his tracks a bit, blinking blankly before meeting eyes with you. “oh… yeah. don’t worry about me. just had a rough night i guess…” he mumbles, sheepishly rubbing the nape of his neck awkwardly. 

it’s a habit you notice that he does every time he’s nervous or when he’s hiding something. although the two of you have been roommates for over four months now and have a good friendship, bonding over your love for anything apple juice or apple cider, you wouldn’t think he would be the type to confide in you. 

“it’s all that gaming you do,” you reprimand him like you’re his mother, patting him on his shoulder before walking back into your room. he releases a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding once your door shut, leaving him alone in the kitchen. 

rubbing a hand over his face, heeseung does his best to recollect himself but his lower half seems to have a mind of his own, creating a clear imprint of his hardon through his pajama pants. he shuffles his way to his own bedroom, hurriedly shutting the door as he lays himself down on his bed. “fuck,” he huffs out, eyes screwing shut. not his fault, he tells himself; you just look too pretty in the morning, slightly ruffled up hair and not to mention your cute pajamas.

but he thinks nothing beats the outfit you wore to the party the night he met you.

all dolled up, putting in effort to the way you look but not trying too hard. he blesses jake for convincing him into going that night, or else he probably would never get a pretty roommate like you. you were so cute to him, eyes widening in shock at your own action when you had sprayed the juice all over him. sure, the stain never got out of his favorite shirt but you definitely made it up to him that same night. 

his cock restrained in his pajama pants only feel tighter the more he resists, a grumbly groan leaving his lips as he shamefully fishes his cock out. his hand begins to slowly move up and down, hips lifting off the bed from being impatient as he needily thrusts up into his fist. 

his breath starts to pick up when he hears you humming on the other side of the wall, presumably with your headphones on as you study or do homework. so cute, so innocent, you have no idea that he fucks his hand to you every night.

“god–” he gasps, fist speeding up as he pretends you’re doing it for him; soft and pliant hands wrapping around his thick girth– you probably can’t even fully wrap your hand around him. the thought sends him into a needier state, letting a whine slip from his lips before he captures his bottom lip between his teeth to quiet down. 

he reminisces about your pretty party outfit, simple yet effective enough to get him worked up. your small hands immediately reaching for his chest in a terrible attempt to clean him up, still shocked about what you had just done. the mere size difference of his broad chest compared to your hand has him reeling, imagining that you’re on top of him and discovering his body. 

he pretends his hand is yours, his free hand going underneath his t-shirt and scratching at his stomach but his dull nails are nothing compared to your pretty, manicured nails. he licks his drying lips, fist tightening around his cock as he feels himself get close. he muffles his voice again, having a bad habit of being too loud when he’s approaching his high. 

he moans into his hand, hips twitching and still slightly thrusting up to get the last bit of satisfying overstimulation. his cum spread all over his hand and shirt, he lets out a sigh, one of relief and shame.

he feels so dirty, so gross and perverted– what was meant to just be two people temporarily taking advantage of each other’s situation is going on for too long. 

“oh god, i’m so sorry!” you quickly apologize, hands wiping at his clothed chest to get rid of the juice but you realize you’re only making it worse. “fuck, i’m sorry,” you mumble another apology, but the man in front of you only laughs. you cock a brow, thinking he’s laughing at you. maybe you don’t regret squeezing the juice box all over him. 

“no, sorry, i–” he breaks out into another fit of laughter, slightly hunching over and you just don’t get what is so funny. you cross your arms across your chest, brows furrowing as you watch him collect himself once more. “damn. i don’t know someone who takes apple juice this seriously.”

you frown, “i’m not. sorry, i’m just stressed cause no one has a free space for me to live in temporarily, and all i wanted was a sweet box of apple juice but someone took the last one!” you say pointedly, eyeing him up and down with narrow eyes (in a judgemental manner… totally not checking him out). 

he raises his hands up in surrender, shoulders shrugging. “whoops! well you should’ve just told me that. then i would’ve offered to share,” he hums, flashing you another boyish grin. you think he’s lucky he’s attractive, because if he wasn’t, you would’ve been long gone out of this conversation. 

“wow, just ‘share’? that’s how you’re gonna treat me while i’m in a crisis?!” you exaggerate, eyes wide with sarcasm as you scoff at him. 

he giggles at you, enjoying how expressive you are.  “you do know you’re not the only one experiencing a crisis, right?” he raises a brow at you, grin still remaining on his face. 

the rest seemed to be history, him explaining to you that his dickhead old roommate just stopped paying rent and was kicked out so now he’s paying the entire floor and is in dire need for a roommate to fill in. 

it was all too convenient, it seemed too good to be true. 

heeseung is a good roommate. you had your doubts about living with a guy, especially after staying with jay for a while, you were worried the boy stench would apply to living with heeseung too. but since it was just him, it wasn’t overwhelming as long as you didn’t step foot into his man cave. 

he does his fair share of chores, like doing the dishes and taking out the trash. he’s clean in the shared space and has yet to ever make you uncomfortable or doubt living with him. but of course, jay has his own reservations about you living with heeseung. 

“what?” jay’s voice pierces your ears, his tone of disbelief and disappointment at the same time making you a bit wary. you shrug, giving your best friend a sheepish smile before you try to defend yourself. 

“come on! it’s a win-win situation? i’ve been looking for weeks! i need a place to stay!” you plead your case, folding your hands like you’re praying (for jay to not kill you). 

he scoffs, eyes rolling. “you do have a place to stay. here! safe! and not with a stranger!” jay reprimands you, finger pointing down to the couch the two of you are sitting on. 

you sigh in return, “he’s not a stranger! plus, aren’t you guys friends?” you suddenly question, brow raising up at him and he seems to be appalled at your accusation. 

“huh?? where did you get that from? me and heeseung are not friends. i don’t like him. he’s weird for asking you to live with him,” jay mumbles in the last sentence, eyes peeling off of you for a second as he looks at his fiddling hands. 

you find his sudden change in attitude strange, your best friend usually never gets shy around you to say what’s on his mind. nor does he ever get this heated about a choice you’ve made. “okay, geez. i just thought you guys hung out with the same crowd…” you frown, your fingers now nervously playing with the hem of your shirt.

jay makes you nervous. despite being your bestest and longest friend, he seems to always have certain reserves around you and it’s difficult for you to point out sometimes. you know he cares for you and vice versa– that will never change. but it’s hard to understand what he’s feeling if it’s not already written all over his face. that means it’s already too late, he’s been feeling that way for a long time. 

nonetheless, through all his protests and complaining that you should absolutely not move in with heeseung, he still helped you move in the next week. 

heeseung’s been nothing but good. 

until you decide to skip class one day, holed up in your room because you weren’t feeling well that day. you don’t have heeseung’s schedule memorized yet, since it’s only been three weeks since you first moved in. but you hear shuffling from outside your room, and if there’s one thing you discovered, it’s that heeseung is a loud walker.

the footsteps stop, but then a few minutes later, you hear faint moaning. it’s so quiet that you think you imagined it, but now your ears are perked up to try and perceive what you’re hearing. you swear the sounds go up a decimal higher, and you can pick up high-pitched squeals and moans from outside your room. 

your eyes widen, half of your face hidden underneath your blanket as you piece together the scenario. is he really watching porn out in the living room? it’s not that you’re judging him for watching porn, but out in the shared space that the two of you have movie nights and eat dinner together feels… dirty. 

but you suppose you’re not any better. the fact that heeseung is a few feet away from you, horny and doing god knows what in an intimate space that the two of you share.. your thighs squeeze together under your bed sheets. 

you secretly wish that the living room was closer to your room since it’s hard for you to really hear anything other than the porn playing. but then it suddenly stops, the sound from the video no longer masking the pants and moans of your roommate. he doesn’t seem to be shy given how vocal he is, probably because he thought he was alone. 

you can’t help but feel a little guilty, thighs rubbing together as your heated face stares up at the ceiling, trying to get rid of the visual your brain presents of heeseung stroking his cock, probably manspreading with his head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut with pleasure.

you didn’t regret moving in with heeseung at first. now that you know his secret, you regret it a little bit. 

either heeseung has no shame or he’s really good at hiding it. he doesn’t seem to be affected when sitting on the couch together, indulged in whatever movie he had picked while you two ate dinner. you were a bit awkward at first, eyes wandering around the couch to look for stains, shifting as if you’re impatient to the point that heeseung had to ask if you were okay.

he’s impressively well at keeping things casual with you, like he’s the most innocent man in the world. you suppose you’re doing the same– you’re not exactly in the clear, listening in on him when you could’ve easily thrown on some headphones for the sake of his privacy. 

this went on for months, and now that you’re on month four of living together, you’ve almost forgotten about that incident… or perhaps you just pushed it to the back of your mind to not distract you. 

and while you think heeseung might be unintentionally a freaky pervert, he’s really quite the opposite. getting off to the mere thought of you possibly hearing him gets him worked up, and your innocent conversations you have with him the next day only gets him hot and bothered. 

the thought of you possibly knowing his “habit” has crossed his mind more than a few times, but he highly doubts it since you’re able to sit down and have dinner with him on the very same couch that he had just cleaned cum off of an hour ago. you just seem too sweet, too distracted with your difficult classes to even bother with him. 

but he likes to indulge himself, always imagining you walking in on him. perhaps your class ended early, and you open the door to find him jerking off on the couch with a picture of you from  your instagram on his phone screen. 

until the imagination falls short, and he hears your voice. his eyes open, hand halting to a stop on his hard cock and he’s faced with the sight of you standing in front of him, between his thighs. his throat goes dry, pupils enlarging as he cranes his neck to look up at you. 

his eyes follow your gaze– you’re not even looking at his face, instead you’re looking at his thick length, accompanied by his large hand and he thinks you’ve fallen into some sort of trance. but heeseung, too horny to even comprehend this situation, manspreads wider than usual on the couch to allow you some room. 

“go ahead,” he speaks after some silence, your eyes finally meeting his as he directs you to look back at his neglected, throbbing cock. you feel unsure, you feel like you’re possessed, maybe your horny spirit finally letting you indulge in your secret crush on your roommate, but you drop  to your knees, your hands going over heeseung’s own hand still on his cock. 

the size difference of yours on top of his is enough to make his dick twitch, his hips lifting off the couch with need. “fuck, c’mon, you’re looking at it like you need it. good girls like you always get what they want, right?” he says through gritted teeth, nudging his cock towards your mouth. 

his praise goes straight into your head, making your brain and lower stomach feel fuzzy. your mouth opens, tongue shyly going past your bottom lip and heeseung takes this opportunity to rest his tip on your peeked tongue, instantly hissing at the wetness. “s’cute, now take as much as you want, okay?” he praises, slowly guiding you down his cock with your hands still on top of his own. 

your lips envelope around the head of his cock, taking it deeper and doing as he says. your hands stay on his hand, starting to go deeper until your lips meet his finger. heeseung groans, resisting on bucking his hips into your warm and wet mouth. 

“shit, coulda’ just said you wanted all of me,” he mumbles, watching you start to get used to the feeling of him inside your mouth. “fuck– just like that, y/n,” he whines, barely keeping his eyes open but forcing himself so he can keep looking at you, cheeks puffed out and drool slipping from the corner of your lips already. 

you try to whine in protest from his words, but it only gets muffled with your mouth stuffed full of your roommate’s dick. he chuckles at you, his free hand resting on top of your head. “roomie,” he teases as your brows furrow together but he only thinks you look cuter like this, “don’t you know to not talk with your mouth full? where’s your manners?” he tsks, but gets shortly cut off by his own moans, your tongue working at his sensitive tip. 

heeseung curses under his breath, his hand on your head starting to push you down more. “since– hah– someone forgot their manners… i feel like i need to teach you a few things,” he hums, low-lidded eyes peering down at you. he suddenly pulls you off, strings of saliva attached from his cock to your wet lips. 

truth be told, he was getting impossibly close but he didn’t wait four months just to cum inside your mouth. 

he grabs you by your waist, hoisting you up onto the couch and laying you on your back. “now lemme just see how wet you got from sucking my cock,” he grins, but it’s different from his usual boyish smiles, it’s one that speaks he’s getting more than just a ‘look’. 

heeseung tugs your bottoms off, throwing them onto the floor beside the couch. he moans at the sight of a wet spot through your white panties, soaked to the point where he could see the outline of your pussy. “shit,” he groans, index finger prodding at your covered entrance. he leans in closer, tongue slipping past his lips and pressing against your panties.

his hot breath is enough to rip a shaky moan out of you, your hands unsure of what to do as you grab at a random couch pillow. he looks up at you through his lashes, pressing his tongue more against your clothed pussy to add pressure. you whine, a pout forming at your lips, “fuck! you’re so annoying,” you huff.

you pull your hips away from him, and he gives you a confused look until he understands that you’re just pulling your panties down in a hurry. he chuckles at you, amused in your rush to get fucked by him. he grabs at your thighs, pulling you back down closer to him. “what? you want me that bad or you just desperate for some dick like a slut?”

his words have your eyes widening, look at him still in between your legs. “the fuck?” you curse at him, and heeseung only laughs mockingly some more. “i think you’re the slut, no? jacking off in our shared space where i could walk in anytime,” you scoff, shuffling as you sit up on your elbows, “you wanted me to see you like this, right?” you taunt, your hand now pushing at his chest to lay him down on his back. 

“you’re the one desperate for some pussy like a slut,” you whisper, cunt hovering over his cock that’s laid hard on his stomach. you lower your hips, pussy meeting the thick veins of his cock as you begin to rock your hips against him. he gasps at the contact, hands flying to your waist as he looks down at where the two of you meet. 

“fuck–” he hisses, his own hips bucking up to meet your slow grinds but he feels even more desperate, feeling his cock twitch against his stomach and your wet cunt. it’s your turn to grin down at him, your hands on his chest keeping you up. “now you got nothing to say? not even a sorry for acting so innocent when you’re not?” you hum, beginning to grind faster on him. 

heeseung whines at the sloppy noises from your cunt grinding on him, the sounds so sticky and lewd that only makes him feel like he’s going to cum faster. “i’m–” he moans loud, his hands on your waist gripping tighter. “i’m sorry! fuck, stop, i’m close–!” he whines and begs, desperate to not cum like this on his own stomach.

you giggle as you lift your hips up, away from his cock as you watch him catch his breath, chest heaving up and down. you pout at him, a hand reaching to cup at his jaw as your thumb rubs soothingly at his cheek. “i dunno, i think you liked th–at!” you begin to speak, but your voice breaks when you feel a sudden intrusion at your entrance.

“fuckkk,” heeseung moans, his hands on your hips reaching down to your ass as he slowly guides you down his cock, “you’re so fucking hot talking to me like that,” he chuckles breathlessly, staring at your shocked expression as you feel the stretch of your pussy from his cock. 

you whine at the pressure of him pushing his cock into you, your chest meeting his after your arms felt too weak to keep you up. “oh my fuck!” you squeal, eyes squeezing shut as he keeps on going deeper slowly, inch by inch that makes you feel like passing out. 

“so good,” he breathes out, a hand leaving your ass but to grab at the nape of your neck to pull you into a kiss, a messy and sloppy one, but it also feels like he’s been waiting to do this since the day he met you. you whine into the kiss, tongues meeting and sliding against each other and he takes this as his opportunity to bottom out on you.

he swallows your moans, inhaling your scent, your lips, your everything as he stays still to let you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. you whimper as you pull away from him, barely catching your breath as you begin to rock your hips impatiently on him, causing him to moan out your name.

“fuck, hahh~! feels so good,” you slur, biting your lower lip as you grind on him, feeling your clit meet his pelvic bone each time that only makes your stomach tighten. he leans back more, his arms wrapping around your entire body before he snaps his hips up into you, making you take it as he maneuvers your body. 

you cry out, your cunt barely able to accommodate his size but the burning stretch makes your head feel blank as you bury your face into his neck, your moans sounding muffled out. heeseung groans with each thrust, your wet pussy making his lower stomach messy as your juices slap against his balls. 

“shit, you’re so fucking hot,” he moans out, hips beginning to get sloppy but it only turns you on more to see him become desperate for you. you put in effort to lift your head up, meeting your lips with his and the two of you moan and whine into each other's mouths, the entire living room echoing of wet skin slapping and sloppy kisses.

“ah– don’t stop! pleaseee,” you beg, your nails scratching at his shoulder blade and chest as you feel the knot in your lower belly tighten, threatening to snap. “fuck–shit, me too, baby, g’na cum too!” heeseung moans out, leaving wet, open mouthed kisses at your sensitive lower jaw and neck that only sends shivers down your spine, leaving you shaking as you reach your orgasm over his cock. 

“fuck, fuck fuck, y/n,” he whimpers, lips releasing from your neck as he throws his head back in pleasure. your walls contracting and pulsating against his twitching cock pushes him further into his high, his hips sporadically delivering you deep and fast thrusts that have you hiccuping as you moan. 

the two of you catch your breath, your forehead meeting his chest as you both breathe in silence, chests heaving up and down. he stays still inside you, his softening cock making his cum leak down the inside of your thighs. neither of you say anything, despite the soothing back rubs that heeseung gives you and your hand in his hair that is gently massaging at his scalp. 

the buzzing of your phone on the coffee table reaches both of your ears, and you shoot up from heeseung’s chest, sitting up straight and still on his cock. the both of you wince at your sudden movement from being too sensitive. “sorry…” you say quietly, bending slightly to get your phone. 

jake (project partner): hey. are you on your way yet?

you curse underneath your breath, slapping your hand against your forehead as you had forgotten about your project with jake. heeseung gives you a curious raised brow, “is everything alright…?”

you purse your lips before giving him a sheepish smile as you carefully lift your hips off of him, slightly wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of his cum slipping out even more. “uh… i actually got a project to do right now.. so…” you trail off, meeting his eyes and the two of you look at each other in silence for a good ten seconds. 

you slowly bend down awkwardly, grabbing your discarded bottoms and giving your roommate (that you just fucked) a small wave goodbye before rushing to the bathroom to wash up.

heeseung opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out as he watches your bare butt with his cum dripping out of your cunt go into the bathroom. he sighs, awkwardly shuffling his pants back on as he tries to pretend that it’s normal to fuck his roommate.

it’s normal, right?

[ramp-it-up]

Knock You Down: III

Summary: James Bucky Barnes is an avowed bachelor and one night stand artist. But when he meets you, he finds out that sometimes love comes around, and it knocks you down. Bucky feeds you after the failure of date number 2.

This is a follow up to Part II

Word count: 2.3 K

Pairing: Art Dealer (mob boss) Bucky Barnes x Reader

A/N: Okay I Lied! I added more words as I edited this and it ended up over 5K. So... there will be four parts to this fic which has posessed my soul. It will be posted Tuesday 10/15. Thank all of you for rocking with me on this one. This was in part inspired by Seb Stan's latest pics and this press run 🫠, and partially inspired by an old song by some problematic people, lol. This is the result. As usual, I am Basil Exposition, so this is broken into parts.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Read at your own risk. Slow burn, cursing, mutual pining, idiots in love, playful banter. Bucky and reader talk about sex, without talking about it. Or doing it. This is fluffy, yet angsty and I feel like you might not like it. Let me know if you do.

I no longer have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

-----

Bucky Barnes was sitting at your table eating Thai food with you and you weren’t mad. He had ordered twice the amount you requested and damn you, you thought it was cute.

He was cute, casual in t-shirt, sweats and a ball cap. He looked as alluring as he did in a suit.

You were doomed.

Bucky didn't try to get into a deep discussion or get close to you. He just kept you company as you ate and poured you some of the best rosé that you’d ever tasted. 

Food was your love language, and having good food did a lot for your mood. It also didn’t hurt that the delicious snack known as James Bucky Barnes was sitting across from you.

You respected his game.

But somehow you didn’t think it was a game. He’d been honest and straightforward with you. As much as a man in his position could be. Then you realized that he’d probably told you too much.

“What is it, Frumoasă? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Are you here to give me a last meal and then kill me?”

Bucky laughed loudly. He loved that you had the ability to make him do that. He loved…

“That mind of yours, Y/N.” 

He shook his head at you.

“I’m not going to kill you. I want you safe. Even if you are not going to be mine.”

Your ears perked up at that phrase.

You already knew that Nico was parked outside of your place. You realized that he had been hanging around since Monday night. 

But what you were tripping over is that Bucky said that he wanted you to be his. 

You normally weren’t into possessiveness, but on James Barnes it was sexy as fuck.

After eating, it was only polite that you gave him a tour of your brownstone. He didn’t touch you, but the proximity of his body to yours at the door of your bedroom was heady stuff. You wanted him to… 

But you just took a deep breath and led him back down to your front door.

“Before you kick me out, I have something to say.”

Bucky had never felt the need to explain anything to anyone in a very long time. But you weren’t just anyone.

“I apologize for giving you a security detail without your knowledge. And then piling my friends on as well. They wanted to check you out, and I wanted to be sure that you were safe. Those gossip blog posts have heightened the risk for you.”

Your eyes widened.

“What posts?”

“We’ve been papped every time we’ve gone out. You didn’t know? I thought that’s why you asked what you did tonight.”

You groaned. 

“No, my friends must have seen them. What do they say?”

Bucky hesitated. Just a moment, and then responded to the look on your face. He ascertained that he was going to have to be straight with you consistently if he wanted to be in your company.

“Well… Since we’ve been spotted together more than once, one particular site is claiming that we’re already in a relationship. They say you are my girlfriend.”

The softness of his voice when he said ‘girlfriend’ got to you.

Whoo boy.

You groaned, then laughed.

“That’s ridiculous, you’ve never even kissed me.”

Bucky laughed too.

“Ha ha. Yeah. It’s crazyyyyyy.” 

“Isn’t it though…?

You tried to look deep into his eyes, and he let you. You saw something that didn’t really surprise you. So you decided to just ask the question that was on your mind.

“James, what do you want out of this? This…”

You didn’t say what you were thinking, but he knew exactly what you were thinking when you didn’t finish your sentence.

Bucky looked off as if he were seeing something that wasn’t there yet, then back at you.

“I want… you. I don’t want a one night stand. Or a situationship.”

He watched you carefully as he said the next words.

“I want, I need so much more from you.”

He took both of your hands into his as he leaned against the door frame.

“Listen. When you left earlier this evening, it knocked me on my face. You’ve got me thinking about a lot. Things like what our life might be like in the future.”

You were spiraling as he spoke. ‘Our life,’ ‘future.’ But you tried to remain calm.

“This was never supposed to happen to me. Y/N. But ever since you came into my office on Monday, my heart has been racing. I’ve got feelings for you. Strong ones.”

“Wow.”

It was all you could say. But when you thought about it, you felt the same exact way. You smiled at him and his nerves calmed. 

Just a bit.

“I have to admit that every morning when you text me, I get the biggest smile on my face. That wasn’t something I wanted or planned.”

You looked down at your fingers entwined with his. Yes. This could be a thing.

“It’s not exactly convenient to have these kinds of feelings this fast, James. Especially with all has happened.”

You looked up at him, and the hurt on your face destroyed him.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. And I understand if you want to pump the breaks. I-”

“If you want me, then why haven’t you made a move?”

You interrupted him to ask about the next most important topic on your list.

Bucky recognized your insecurity.

“Don’t ever doubt the sexiness of your appeal, Frumoasă. I want to kiss you, and more to be honest. But I haven’t because I am so afraid of you.”

The way he looked at you caused a tingle of fear to unfurl in your belly.

Or was it desire? 

“You are afraid of me. I see. You’re a terrible kisser. That’s why you don’t go on second dates. I get it now.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed.

“Maybe so.”

He gazed at your smile and the way your entire face was alight. Then he brought one of your hands to his lips.

His mouth on your palm enabled you to feel the salt and pepper whiskers on his face. And when he slid those lips to your wrist you moaned a little and squirmed and his eyelids fluttered closed as he inhaled the scent there.

“The skin here is so soft and fragrant, makes me wonder about…”

He stopped speaking but the silence spoke volumes. This man was having wild thoughts about you. Of that you were sure now. You wanted him everywhere.

Bucky brought your hand down from his face and rubbed your wrist with his thumb. The sensuality of the act made you feel unstable. You must have wobbled because his hand went down to your waist to steady you. But you just felt more dizzy.

He chuckled at your tell and saved you again.

“Can we sit?”

“Yeah.”

The couch was a bit dangerous, but the blood was leaving your head.

“Truth?”

“Always, James.”

“Okay. The truth is I don’t think you could handle it.”

You scoffed at the challenge.

“Come again?”

He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes and then he sobered up.

“If I kiss those lips, Y/N, I’m not going to abandon them in haste. I’m going to take my time. And I’m not being cocky, but I’m pretty sure things will progress rapidly. I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop myself from giving you anything you ask for. Anything.”

The sensual promise was making you wet. You clenched your thighs together, causing Bucky to look down at them and lick his lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were dilated.

You knew that you could have him right now if you wanted. You took a deep breath to clear your head and Bucky’s eyes were on your lips.

This feeling was a drug.

“I’m already falling for you, but I know that I will crash into you. I can get intense about the things and the people that I care about. And you’re not ready for that, Frumoasă. Not at all.”

You pulled your hands away from his even though you wanted to jump his bones. 

“How do you know what I’m ready for, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky smiled at you.

“You just said that your feelings for me aren’t convenient.”

You sucked your teeth at him and crossed your arms, turning your body away from him. Bucky was charmed by your pout, but a little mad at you closing yourself off from him. If you were his, he’d teach you a lesson about that. He’d open you up. 

But damn, he didn’t need to be so hard right now. You had an important day ahead, and he wasn’t going to rush this experience. He tried to calm down, but his voice betrayed him.

“You also haven’t asked me for a kiss. Although you did tell me that you wanted to fuck my voice...”

You dropped your head, embarrassed.

“Let’s not!”

He laughed, on cloud nine at your shyness with him. He’d teach you to be wanton, and have a grand time doing it.

“Frumoasă mea, you could request a kiss at any time. And I will always give you anything you ask of me. If you ask nicely of course.”

You cocked your head and Bucky bit his lip at how adorable you were.

“You want me to beg you for a kiss?”

Bucky took in the fire in your eyes and his own darkened.

“A kiss is not what I want you begging for.”

You coughed to cover a whimper as your mind went where Bucky wanted it to go. You couldn’t believe that your panties were soaked by someone you’d never even kissed.

“I just want you to know what you’re signing up for if we get physical.”

“From a kiss? It’s like that?”

You tried to be incredulous, but you believed every word that he said. You just wanted to verify.

“So let me get this straight. I kiss you, you rock my world, but I’m not ready for it?”

You’d never been so annoyed yet so turned on.

Bucky shrugged.

“Or you could be right. I’m a horrible kisser. A lousy lay. I’m just trying to stretch out the good times with you before you find that out and dump me.”

You shook your head at him, not wanting to laugh, but doing so anyway.

“...But, in order to find that out, I would have to kiss and lay with you.”

“Of course.”

“You know what…”

Bucky teasing you was the best kind of foreplay. You felt comfortable with him. And now you were intrigued.

“I can’t with you.”

“So we agree.”

“I hate you.”

“You don’t, but you’re cute when you’re angry.”

“Fuck you, James.”

“Is that a request?”

This banter was everything.

You got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen.

“I’m going get you something to drink. Do you drink tea? You seem a little thirsty.”

“As long as you drink with me. You seem a little parched yourself.”

Bucky called after you while watching your curves in your sweats as you flipped him off. He rubbed his hand on the ridge of his semi-hard dick. You were so damn hot. He concentrated on calming down while the kettle heated.

“Honey?”

“Yes, dear?”

You laughing was amazing.

You came back with a tray of herbal tea, milk, and honey and sat down again.

“I do want to talk to you about something else.”

He said it as he prepared his cup.

“Yes?” 

“I want to let you know, as much as I can, the plans for me to go legit. Can I have just a little bit of your time tonight? And then I will let you get some rest.”

Your heart melted and you smiled at him.

“Yeah. You got it.”

—-

You woke up at 3 am, Bucky’s steady heartbeat under your ear and his arms wrapped around you. You had fallen asleep after hours of talking about the future. You looked up at him and those lips were right there. 

You could just steal a kiss.

But you didn’t, just tried to ease out of his arms so you could go pee.

Bucky’s arms tightened around you and you couldn’t move. He was awake.

“What time is it?”

“A little after three.”

He let you go and sat up, looking around, then at you.

“I’m sorry, I talked your ear off and bored you to sleep.”

You shook your head. 

“I wasn’t bored. You made me feel safe.”

Bucky grinned.

“I’m glad that you feel safe with me. You are, you know.”

His morning voice was sensual heaven. You never wanted to kiss someone more in your life.

“And for your safety, I probably need to leave now.”

You wanted him; his body felt good against yours. But he was right. You chuckled and then led him to your door.

“Okay.”

At the door, Bucky turned and looked down at you. He was thoughtful.

“Do you have plans for Sunday?”

“No, why?”

“I wanted to ask you on date number three Saturday night.”

You two stared at each other for a beat before he continued.

“How do you feel about a late dinner at my place after the exhibition? Since you don’t have to get up early the next day.”

You took in his meaning, but you didn’t address it.

“Are you trying to feed me, James?”

His gaze got intense. You got wet again, realizing the double meaning. 

“You have no idea, Frumoasă.”

Holy shit. He caught it too. You gulped.

“Okay. Sounds… intriguing.”

Bucky looked like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“I’ll stop by the center around midday, then go shopping for our meal. Nico will bring you by. About 8?”

“It’s a date.”

You two grinned at each other like idiots. Then he opened your door to leave.

“James.”

“Yes, Frumoasă?”

“Can I have a kiss?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you into his arms and kissed you on the forehead. It was perfect, and a little bit like a promise.

Then he left, straight into the early morning fog, waving at Nico as he got into a sleek black sports car, blew a kiss at you, and then pulled away.

That felt like an escape from the inevitable.

To both him and to you.

——

As always, let me knowww! ❤️

Part IV Here

[sinofwriting]

Lost then Found - Charles Leclerc/Reader/Max Verstappen, Logan Sargeant/Reader

Words: 4,549 Summary: Charles and Max are together and she needs to move on, get over them before her feelings get any bigger and harder to handle.

Note(s): Partial SMAU. No part two will be written

Masterlist | Support Me! | Part of Sin's 5k & B-Day Celebration

This was far more difficult than it should be, she couldn’t help but think.

When Max and Charles had told her that they were together, she knew that the days of being a trio were over. She had made her peace with it as soon as the next day had rolled around and she had let herself cry, because it hurt more than she expected seeing the two people she liked so much being in love with each other. She knew that they’d want time alone, time to go out on dates, to just spend time with each other, without other people, without her.

So, she retreated. Started texting to ask if she could come over to Max’s or Charles’, double checking that they still wanted her to come over when they asked, knocking on front doors instead of just letting herself in like before. She nearly gave back her keys to both their places, but kept them. They’d give them to her in case of emergencies, it just so happened that they then urged her to use them to just let herself in at any time. She did however take back her own spare keys, slipping it off of their key rings when they were distracted. The one going back in her safe in her bedroom, the other going to Arthur, who thankfully hadn’t asked questions just kissed her on the forehead with a murmured breath of idiots before threading their arms together and making her walk with him around Maranello.

She had figured it would be easy to fall away from them, that they’d like the time to be together just them. But she’s still getting invited to come over for random lunches and dinners. For movie night whether it’s over discord when she hasn’t joined them at a race or in Max’s living room or Charles' hotel room.

It hurts to say no to those offerings, to not say yes every time they offer, but it also hurts to see them together and she can’t be around them as often as she used to with her feelings so large for them and hopefully not apparent.

So, she asks for Arthur’s help. She loves them, yes, but she isn’t in love with them. And that means the world of difference, because she can get over them, will get over them.

Her feet are in his lap as they scroll through her tiktok that’s displayed on her TV. It makes her miss the F2 weekends, the races she always attends, just to tag along with Arthur. To support him, and how always the night before the feature race no matter how much Max or Charles will plead, she’ll go to his hotel room and they’d do the same thing. Scrolling through her tiktok, either laughing or scoffing at what’s shown.

She curls her toes gently into his thigh, laughing at the slight hiss he gives. “How are your toes so cold?” She shrugs, wiggling them a bit before he puts a blanket over them, setting his hand on top of the blanket where her toes are underneath. “Why is your hand so warm?” “Do you really want to know?” She makes a face at him and he does the same back and they both break into giggles.

“I was wondering,” “Oh?” He looks away from the TV, eyes focusing on her. “If the offer to set me up with someone was still on the table.” His eyebrows are raised. “But what about,” “They are together, happy and in love. I’m happy with being their friend, but to be a better friend I need to get over my feelings before it hurts them or their relationship and that is the last thing I want.”

She means it as well. She is happy for Charles and Max even if she hadn’t thought that they'd get over themselves and admit that they felt something for each other. It also helps that the distance has helped with the hurt she feels seeing them. It’s more bittersweet than anything to see them so happy together.

He looks at her for a few seconds before nodding. “Of course. Paul is interested.” Her eyes go wide. “Paul is a child!” “He’s nineteen, that’s not a child.” Arthur denies. “And I’m twenty-three, same as you. I don't want to rob the cradle so to speak.” “Okay, no one that young.”

She watches as he thinks about it before smirking at her. “Ya know, Pierre and Kika have talked of having a third.” She scowls at him. “Maybe someone single and who isn’t best friends with Max or Charles.” “Fine.” he chuckles. “You know I only know people in motorsports, though. They will know them.” “I’m aware, Thur.” She gently prods his thigh. “Now, give me a name or two.” “Logan.” She feels blood rush to her face and looks away from her best friend at the sound of his name and Arthur’s eyes narrow.

“What is that about?” He reaches forward to poke at her temple that’s now facing him. “I may have slept with him.” “No.” He’s shaking his head when she looks at him again. “When?” “Last year at Abu Dhabi before his Williams testing.” She tells him, laughing when he gently hits her calves. “And you never told me?” “It happened one time!” She defends herself. “And we both agreed not to really talk about it.” He shakes his head, “Unbelievable. Do you want me to set you up? Give you his number?” Her eyebrows raise at Arthur having his number as she thinks about it.

She liked Logan, maybe not entirely like that, but she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him. He was sweet, funny and earnest. She could see herself having a good time with Logan even if it didn’t end up being a relationship that lasted forever or went too serious. Afterall she had a good time with him the last time they saw each other.

“Yeah, I’d like his number.”

—

Arthur didn’t know how he had ended up in the house of the enemy (it was said enemy offering him to use his sim) but he was already regretting that he came over, especially with his brother being over as well and the fact that the enemy, or now two enemies wouldn’t let him use the sim.

“What is wrong with her?” “Nothing is wrong.” He repeats, feeling bored of their worries about Y/N. It was stupid that they thought he’d be this relaxed if something was wrong with her, she was his best friend after all, despite what Max and Charles liked to think. “Really? Because we haven’t seen her in a week, a week Arthur! We have been home.” He shrugs, “I don’t know. I saw her just today.” “So, she’s at home.” “No.” Arthur looks around the living space of Max’s place, eyebrows raising at the grand piano that now resides by some of his trophies. “I drove her to Nice, this morning.” “Nice?” Max eyebrows are furrowed. “She never goes to Nice.” Arthur shrugs, leaning back in his seat and taking out of his phone, swiping through his messages. “She has a date.” “She has a what!?” Arthur has to hide his smirk as the two Formula 1 drivers yell. “I’ve been trying to set her up with someone for awhile now. She finally said yes.” “With who?”

—

“This was really nice.” She smiles up at Logan, liking how she has to tilt her head up a bit to look at him with how they’re standing. “I had a really good time.” There’s a hand now resting on her waist and she shudders at the touch, at how Logan is looking at her, at how this whole day had gone. It had been so long since she went on a date, she had forgotten how much she enjoyed it.

“Maybe next time we could do this in London?” He grins at her, “Really?” “It wouldn’t be fair if only you were flying.” She pauses, “I need a bit of notice, but I could also do Florida.” His smile and eyes soften. “I’d like that. I’m going back for Christmas until the fourth of January. But maybe if our next date,” Her smile widens at the words next date, the quiet but sure confidence in them. “Goes well, you could fly down on the third and we do a little road trip, explore some of America.” “I’ve never been before.” “I mean, I’ve only really been to places for racing other than Florida.” “So, you’ve only been to Florida.” He laughs but nods, “yeah, only to Florida.” “I’d like that. Just tell me how much time you want to spend there and I’ll use my vacation days up.” “You don’t want to wait until our next date?” “I don’t think I do. Do you?” She asks, stepping closer. “No.” He murmurs and then he’s bending, their lips just separated. “I don’t think you do.”

—

She’s brimming with excitement when she gets to Arthur’s place. Her fingers keep brushing over her lips and cheeks where Logan had kissed her. Her mind keeps replaying his words, his laugh, the little sigh he gave when she kissed him again before they parted ways.

She doesn’t bother knocking on Arthur’s door, he had told her that if she wasn’t going to let him pick her back up that’d he keep the door unlocked for her so she could come straight to him after her date.

“Thur.” She calls, setting her purse down on the kitchen counter. “I’m back, all safe and sound.” She rounds the kitchen counter, opening his fridge and stealing a beer before making her way to the living room and plopping down on his couch. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she can’t help but remember how excited Logan had gotten when he realized that her dress had pockets. The fresh memory, barely seven hours old, has her grinning again.

“So, it went well?” She looks up and sees Arthur standing in the entry of the living room, a beer in one hand while his other is taking a towel to his hair, explaining his silence. “It did. In a few days, I’m gonna fly to London, spend the day with him.” “It went really well.” He sits beside her, eyeing her. “You seem excited.” “I am.” She laughs. “It was just, it was so nice, Thur. And at first I thought maybe it was just going on a date, but on the way here, I think it was not only that but it was him.” He looks at her and wonders why he ever thought there was a possibility of her being in love with Max and Charles, not just liking them as she claimed, when after one date with Logan she looked like this.

—

“We’ve missed you.” Charles murmurs, holding her tight to him, Max has his arms around the both of them. “Where have you been?” He asks, pulling away to gently touch her face, to run his thumb under the dark circles that aren’t as prominent as they usually are. “I’ve been busy.” She tells him, squeezing Max’s arm that’s still wrapped around her before stepping away from the both of them. “Work always gets weird in December.” Max frowns, “Just work?” Her eyebrows furrow, “Not just work. But mainly.” “We’ve been home for over a week and this the first time we’ve seen you is all.” Charles smooths out the slight tension. “Usually we see you on our first day back and when we swung by your place you were never home, never made plans to see us, never just dropped in.” She smiles at Charles and he feels his heartbeat quicken at the sight. Max’s smile did the same thing to his heart as well.

“How has being home been? How are my loves?” She asks and then there’s two cats winding around her ankles and she’s bending to pet and coo at them. “Hello my loves! Look at you both, so pretty and handsome.” Max huffs out a laugh. “I swear you love them more than us.” “Oh absolutely.” She laughs. “Jimmy and Sassy are far better than you two. Huh babies?” She directs the last part to the cats who let her give them one more pet before darting away.

“How have you two been?” She asks when they all sit down in the living room, the three of them all on the large couch that Max’s living room holds. “We’ve been good.” Charles smiles, eyes lighting as he thinks of the past week that had been pretty much just him and Max. It had nearly been perfect, so close. Max nods. “I’m very happy Brad isn’t my trainer anymore, he’d have a heart attack if he saw what was in the fridge.” She laughs, whole face brightening. “You always do this in December though and it’s not as if you stop your training. It will be weird not seeing Brad.” “Rupert will be an adjustment.” The Dutchman sends Charles a look. “He won’t ever be in Monaco other than the GP. Not when Andrea is willing to work with me as well. We both know that Rupert is just to save face mostly.” “And to have a trainer with you in Red Bull.” Charles pouts at the two of them. “I don’t like this.” Max and her both share a look before laughing and she wraps an arm around Charles, giving him a side hug. “The poor baby.” She coos. He flushes at the word baby, nearly shuddering at the idea, the sound of both Max and her calling him baby at the same time.

“What have you been up to?” Max redirects, easily taking the focus off of Charles as his poor boyfriend takes a moment to compose himself. “Work mostly.” She gives a tired sigh. “Thankfully though I’ve only got another week and then I’m off until January twentieth.” Both of their eyebrows raise. “The twentieth? But you usually go back on the second or fifth.” “I have a bunch of vacation saved up. I want to use some of it to bring in the new year, start it off stress free, or as stress free as I can get.” “They still won’t let you go fully remote?” Max asks, frowning. She shakes her head. “No. Which is ridiculous considering that I’m allowed to go with you guys for race weekends and such as long as I do my work remotely. I mean, I’m already doing so much of it at home.” She shakes her head again and the smile that had been on her face is gone, whole face covered in stress. “Have you given any thought to leaving?” Charles is careful as he broaches the topic. He knows how much she loves the company she works for, despite them not allowing her to go fully remote. “A little.” Max rests his hand on her knee, giving it a squeeze seeing her sad smile.

Charles, seeing the smile and the touch on the knee from Max, nudges her lightly. “We should go somewhere, the three of us. Right after the new year. Go to Bali, Malta, or Greece again.”

Greece had been amazing when they went, just before Max and him had kissed for the first time. Getting to see both of them enjoying the water and sun, skin all on display as she chased them around with sunscreen. The tipsy nights in the living room of where they were staying, furniture pushed back as they danced around, pressed all up against each other.

“Right after the new year?” Charles nods and Max joins him, also remembering Greece. “It would be fun. Another trip just the three of us.” “I have plans right after the new year.” Both of their eyebrows furrow. “Plans?” Charles asks. Her eyes drift to her lap for a second. “Yeah. I started seeing someone and we agreed to do a roadtrip. I’m gonna fly out on the third to meet him.” “Oh.” “Is it serious? Between you two?” She smiles at Max, “I don’t know yet. It’s still early.”

—

“I’m not telling you. It is none of your business.” Arthur tells Charles, a frown on his face. “Arthur,” “No.” He doesn’t bother lowering his voice like Charles has, obviously not wanting Lorenzo or Maman to hear him. “C’mon Arthur. What if he doesn’t treat her right? Hurts her?” His jaw twitches, lips thinning. “You really think that? That I’d set her up with someone that might hurt her? She’s my best friend, Charles. I wouldn’t do that.” “Do what?” Lorenzo asks, as he and Maman join them at the table again, Charles’ face having softened, an apology on the tip of his tongue. “Y/N started seeing someone. I set her up. Charles wants to know who.” “Charles.” Maman scolds and he ducks his head. “I just,” he stops, struggling. “Max and I didn't think that she’d start seeing someone. We thought we’d have time.” Lorenzo's face looks a lot like Arthur thinks his face looks like. “You have to be joking.” “What?” “Charles, you and Max are lovely together. We are happy for you. But you got together knowing that you also wanted her in the relationship as well, but you never did anything about it. It’s been six months and you still haven’t done anything. You can’t begrudge her for finding some happiness.” “No.” Charles shakes his head. “Never.” He glances at the faces of his family. “We know that we may be too late. We just want to make sure she is treated well, right. Is taken care of and is happy. Max and I love her, we want the best for her.” “Arthur wouldn’t set her up with someone he thought would make her unhappy.” “I know.”

—

“Logan!” She squeals as he picks her up, his chest dripping with water pressed against her back. “Put me down!” She laughs. He laughs as well and does put her down, but quickly spins her around, the two now chest to chest. “That better?” She loops her arms around his neck, nodding. ”Much better.” Tilting her head she presses their lips together, humming when he presses her somehow even closer.

—

yourusername

Liked by charlesleclerc, arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 2778 others yourusername: Florida, you have treated me so well and I couldn’t think of a better place to start the roadtrip off, though it does pain me to leave. First stop is New Orleans! (and until next time Miami, I miss you already)

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charlesleclerc: Looks beautiful user1: You look so pretty!!! And that water! arthurleclerc: Did he not tell you about other things in Florida? ⤷ yourusername: but the beach Thur, the beach! user2: Ooh a boy user3: Charles commented!!!

yourusername

Liked by paularon, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc and 1521 others yourusername: New Orleans! Beignets are a must now and I will be attempting to learn to make them as soon as I’m back home (along with gumbo, oh my god). Thank you for buying me about a hundred beignets in two days and coffee!

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maxverstappen1: Will you share? ⤷yourusername: of course, Max! user4: Love that bar! user5: Where’s your next stop? ⤷yourusername: our next stop is Dallas/Fort Worth! user6: Beignets are so good, I don’t blame you for eating nearly a 100

yourusername

Liked by arthurleclerc, maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc and 3028 others yourusername: When in Texas, cowboys hats are a must! (though they make kissing a bit difficult) We both had only been to the Austin area, so getting to see a bit of Dallas and Fort Worth was lovely (not pictured me crying from happiness as I pet a horse and my boyfriend laughing at me) Next stop is Phoenix, Arizona

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arthurleclerc: I’m going to need that picture ⤷yourusername: Not happening user7: I know we talk about the girlfriend effect, but can we talk about the boyf effect??? My girl seems to be glowing ⤷user8: for real! Whoever he is, he is treating her good charlesleclerc: I am familiar with that part of Texas ⤷yourusername: Definitely user9: Every post makes my dreams of the lestappeny/n throuple die ⤷user10: THEY ARE JUST FRIENDS! ⤷user9: girl, tell that to Max and Charles

—

“Boyfriend?” Her eyebrows furrow at the weird tone in Charles’ voice. “What?” “Your instagram post. You call him your boyfriend.” It’s weird for Max to be the one clarifying. It’s always Charles between the two to do it. “Yeah. I mean that happened in Florida. Right after I got off the plane he asked me.” She smiles at the memory of the candy in his hands, the little anklet with the letter L on it that he gave her in the car. “And he is good to you?” “Yes. He’s the best, Cha.” “Maybe we can meet him when you get back? Before the season starts.” She glances at Logan, who is talking on the phone, his free hand gesturing. “Do you want me to invite Arthur as well?” “No.” Charles’ answer is swift as is Max’s. “If you trust him, we can trust him.” She smiles, eyes crinkling when Logan winks at her. “Of course. We’ll be in Monaco in a week and half for a few days before he goes back to London. Let me know when you're free, yes?” “We will look. Be safe.” “Wear lots of sunscreen!” “I will!”

—

yourusername

Liked by jensonbutton, maxverstappen1, joristrouche and 1023 others yourusername: Thank you to the random person for taking our photo and I promise we didn’t just look at cacti while in Arizona. Time for our next and last stop California!

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user11: Your welcome! You and your bf were real sweet! ⤷yourusername: Too kind! jensonbutton: You two up for some babysitting? ⤷yourusername: Jenson… you better not be joking about getting to watch the baby buttons ⤷jensonbutton: I would never arthurleclerc: I just know he touched a cactus user12: Every day we get closer to finding out who she’s soft launching

yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1, charlesleclerc, logansargeant and 2,064 others yourusername: California! The last state on this trip! It’s been fun and hopefully next year we can do another road trip and explore some other states (perhaps in a few years have all 50 checked off).

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user13: I didn’t realize that they had been together for so long user14: Is that Laguna Seca? ⤷yourusername: It is! user15: Race track!!! arthurleclerc: Can’t believe he got you to go karting user16: The club vibes in the last photo

brittnybutton

Liked by yourusername, jensonbutton, jamesharveyblair and 3,218 others brittnybutton: Thank you yourusername and boyfriend for watching the kiddos! Loved having you stay with us for the two days.

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yourusername: Thank you for letting us! jensonbutton: Well behaved bunch they were user17: Brittny is helping her soft launch… I can’t user18: yourusername would be such a good mom user19: parents

—

“Max! Charles!” Her voice is bright, smile wide and Max swallows thickly, wrapping his arms around her. “You look good.” He tells her, pressing his lips to the top of her head before letting her go, Charles eagerly swooping in to hug her.

She’s glowing, Max thinks as he watches Charles and her hug. His boyfriend murmuring some compliment or complaint in her ear as he gently sways her. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her this happy before. It hurts but is also relieving to see.

“Where is your boyfriend?” Max asks when Charles finally lets her go. She smiles at Max as they all sit down at the table, a spread of food and drinks already laid out, plates and silverware in front of them. “He’s changing.” “Do we get to know his name? Or will we,” Charles starts to ask but his voice dies in his throat making Max look at him in concern before following his gaze and understanding fills him. “Logan, hi.” The Williams driver smiles at them, sitting in the empty chair next to Y/N. “Hey guys.” Max watches as she beams at Logan, her whole face just brightening before she looks at them, a sorry smile on her face. “I should’ve told you both sooner, who it was, but I didn’t know how.” He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. We are just shocked is all.” “Very.” Charles agrees. “Arthur set you two up?” Max squeezes Charles’ hand, intertwining their fingers together. “Yeah. I was a little shocked getting the message from him, didn’t even know he still had my number.” Logan laughs. “But he asked if I was interested, I was, so two days later I flew to France for our first day.”

“You two look happy.” She smiles at Charles before looking at Logan. “We are.” “And Jenson knew about it?” Max asks, remembering Jenson’s comments about babysitting and then his wife’s post. Logan blushes and she laughs. “Yeah, Jenson’s really been helping me out since July and I told him after she booked her tickets to Florida.” “That’s good. It’s always nice to have a grid dad, no?” Logan flushes even more as Max laughs. “Just because Seb treated you like a child does not mean we all need to have a grid dad.” “But, Lance had Checo, Oscar has Mark, you had Fernando.” “I didn’t have Fernando.” “You had Fernando.” She agrees with Charles. “He was the only driver not talking shit about you, Fernando was all about your chaos. He’s your grid dad.” Max pouts but it’s quickly chased away by a kiss to the cheek from Charles that makes him grin.

—

yourusername

Liked by logansargeant, williamsracing, and arthurleclerc and 4274 others Tagged: logansargeant yourusername: Who knew a date in Nice would turn into this? Hoping for many more months (and years) with you.

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logansargeant: Happy 3 months baby! user20: 3 months??? user21: wdym they’ve only been together 3 months user22: She’s dating Logan? Crying user23: omg mom gave us a dad and it’s america man

@teti-menchon0604 @eugene-emt-roe @rewmuslupin @copper-boom @stopeatread @crashingwavesofeuphoria @namgification @racingheartsposts @gothgirlez @kimmib13 @fanboyluvr @darleneslane @ironspdy @eutrizbea @asphalstead @poppyflower-22 @skepvids @elliegrey2803 @hiireadstuff @tallrock35 @casperlikej

[bella-rose29]

Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe. 

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter. 

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating. 

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned. 

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more. 

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship. 

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different. 

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway. 

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind. 

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night. 

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?”

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up. 

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died. 

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm. 

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked. 

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all. 

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong. 

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls. 

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning. 

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words. 

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him. 

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more. 

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm. 

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze. 

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him. 

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet. 

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat. 

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move. 

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon. 

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his. 

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye. 

[deecotan]

🌱 Deeco's ZoSan Fic Rec List 🐥

Hello hello! This is going to be a slight rework for my zosan fic rec list, because I wanted to re-organize it and add some new fics while I'm at it, so this is going to be longer than the first. Feel free to check it out!

Latest update: November 2023

Because I started making this list long before August 2023, I won't add any fics that specifically take place in live-action setting because I haven't read much of them yet. I might consider updating this list to add fics with live-action setting in the future.

—GEN/T FICS

Sketches of Life (and Love) by Fledgling (Teen, 2.9k)

An exploration of a headcanon where Sanji likes to draw in his free time. This fic always leaves me with a warm feeling every time I read it because how endearingly sweet it is. It’s basically a domestic fluff story about both ZoSan and the Strawhats crew in general.

green with envy blues by adietxt (Gen, 1.5k)

A cute fic about Zoro being jealous. Jealous!Zoro has been one of those tropes that make me screech like a feral animal every time I come across it and this fic does exactly that. It’s pretty short and simple but it captures the characters very well. It’s set during pre-timeskip which makes it even better to me because pre-TS Zoro possesses that boyish quality that post-TS Zoro doesn’t necessarily have anymore.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Fuck, Marry, Kill (or, how Usopp becomes the best matchmaker of the sea without really trying) (Teen, 4.8k) — Usopp introduces the Strawhats to a game that ends up causing Sanji to overthink things - a lot of things.

Old Men Blues by postmoderne (Gen, 2k)

Quoting directly from the fic’s summary, “Sanji and Zoro: two ancient fucks (in love).” because this is exactly that, a story about old men ZoSan. Old Zoro and old Sanji are both still as stubborn as ever and it’s endearing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Something Golden (Teen, 1.6k) — Canon reimagining where Zoro met Sanji at the Baratie pre-series.

Meet me under the orange tree by candelina (Gen, 3.9k)

A canon divergence AU where Zoro and Sanji met as kids, as Zeff opened up Baratie in Zoro’s hometown. It’s an adorable and heartwarming story of little Zoro and little Sanji’s friendship. There’s also a part two which is also worth reading. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The whole world will know (2.3k) — Old men ZoSan fic, this one involves Zoro deliberately showing himself to the Marines for god knows what. It’s sweet, it’s beautiful, and it shows that Zoro is as reckless and idiotic as he is a loving, devoted husband.

Zoro’s Boyfriend, Who Lives In Canada by donutsandcoffee (Gen, 2.6k)

Modern AU, where Zoro’s friends try to stop him from believing that his imaginary, totally made-up boyfriend actually exists. Of course Zoro’s boyfriend doesn’t actually exist, because with the way Zoro describes him he’s way too perfect to exist and how can anyone so perfect actually exist? A hilarious story of misunderstandings.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Prison Blues (Teen, 2.8k) and it’s a long way forward (Teen, 5k) — serve as both a ZoSan story and a great Sanji character study. 

The Three of Swords by 8ball (Teen, 30k, multi-chapters & completed)

A medieval AU with knight Zoro and prince Sanji, a concept that starts to really grow on me after I begin to read this fic. In this story, Zoro is a cursed knight appointed to serve Sanji, a kind-hearted prince whom Zoro eventually pines over. It’s a beautiful take of prince and knight AU; devoted knight Zoro is something that I didn’t know I need. It also has a sequel.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Ocean's Child series — a canon-divergence mermaid!Sanji AU

(I Want) Someone to Love Me by three_days_late (Teen, 7.9k)

Sanji is about to turn 17, so he hopes that he can get his first kiss before that. A cute high school AU that involves everyone wanting to kiss Sanji (honestly, who doesn’t) but only one person gets to actually do it.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Blood Red (Teen, 400 words) — this might be a little biased because this fic is inspired by my comic, but it’s also a perfectly good reason why I must add it here; this fic is able to capture the spirit of the comic perfectly. If you want to read a short exposition of Zoro showing his darker, yet protective side, then this fic is worth the read. Warning for blood & hints of violence. The Christmas Swap (Teen, 37k, multi-chapters & completed) — a modern AU in which Sanji and Reiju switch partners during Christmas so they can attend their family gathering without having to come out as queer. It’s a wonderful story about family, relationships, and the struggles of maintaining those things as a queer person. The Only Way Out (Is Through) (Teen, 4.8k) — a beautiful Prince Sanji and Knight Zoro story, where circumstances forced them to separate & unable to be together. It also has a side Nami/Vivi. I Have Loved You for 1000 Years (I'll Love You for 1000 More) (Teen, 8.9k) — Another Prince Sanji & Knight Zoro AU involving time travel & the sacrifices you go through for the ones you love.

Curly Angel by APTX & translated to English by NMTD (Teen, 9.4k, two chapters & completed)

In this alternative canon universe, everyone has a guardian angel, and Zoro’s just happened to be Sanji. Hilarity ensues.

Let me be your Inspiration by TheWanderers (Teen, 19.8k)

College AU where Sanji is an artist/painter - another fic that explores Sanji as someone with an artistic streak, but also so much more. It’s a beautiful story that starts out with Zoro having to model for Sanji’s painting but ends up falling in love with him. I love the way the author adapts the characters’ canon backstory into this universe.

Retrogade by Hazel_Athena (Teen, 21.9k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got badly injured after a fight, and ends up losing a big chunk of memories - it doesn’t bother him too much until he notices how weird Zoro starts to act around him. A really good temporary amnesia fic with some really delicious pining!Zoro material. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Medieval ZoSan series — a medieval arranged marriage AU. Renegade Queen (Teen, 76k, multi-chapters & completed) — a canon divergent AU where Sora lives and takes all her children with her - it's more of a Vinsmoke family story with ZoSan on the side.

Nothing Happened (Gen, 16k, multi-chapters & completed)

An angsty survival story where the Strawhats get stranded in a middle of the seas with no means to escape and rapidly declining food stock. This fic does a really good job at keeping you in suspense, and the way it handles Zoro and Sanji's relationship destroyed me emotionally. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: Each A Love Song (Gen, 8.6k) — Sanji is frustrated because Zoro’s surprisingly popular with women when he doesn’t even like them back. A story of a confused Sanji trying to find love and being the World’s Most Oblivious Man. Three Blades (Gen, 5k) — a Western AU where Sanji is a saloon owner and Zoro is a bounty hunter.

The Melody of Missing You by BleuReivers (Teen, 11k)

Zoro is forced to confront his feelings in the aftermath of Sanji's departure during the Whole Cake Island arc. I love the way this story examines Zoro's softer, more vulnerable side in a painfully beautiful way, and the whole fic has this hazy, dream-like vibe that really fits with the plot.

Sick Day by Styx_in_the_mud (Teen, 1.3k)

Zoro gets sick, and Sanji takes care of him. A short sick!fic with a simple premise but very cute nonetheless.

—MATURE/EXPLICIT FICS

Deep by CharlieNozaki (Mature, 171k, multi-chapters & completed)

This is There Are Many Benefits to Being A Marine Biologist: The Fic. Okay jokes aside, this is a modern fantasy AU fic where merpeople exist and it mainly tells about marine biologist Sanji and merman Zoro. It has an interesting premise and deals with some heavy subjects in later chapters, hence the Mature tag. It has a sequel, though it's currently ongoing. OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Game — a Modern AU with slight fantasy-ish element, where Zoro and Sanji are young orphans who find a mysterious game that might be able to change their lives.

Delphinium by toastie_bread (Mature, 39k, multi-chapters & completed)

Set in modern AU, stylist Sanji meets with police detective Zoro after his beauty salon got robbed; a cute rom-com story. There's also a side LawLu.

Steady, As She Goes by auspizien (Explicit, 155k, multi-chapters & completed)

I’ve always loved auspizien’s fics and this is the one fic that made me fall in love with their writing. This is a modern AU story where Zoro is an ex-agent with PTSD who meets and befriends Sanji, a paramedic. It’s a multi-chapter fic filled with humor, angst, pining, action, and good ol’ slow-burn.  OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: The Android Acquaintance (Explicit, 10k) — dystopian cyberpunk AU with android Sanji and bounty hunter Zoro. This fic partly inspires me to make the Blade Runner 2049 ZoSan art!

The Tribulations of Temptation by SweetyGreeny (Explicit, 18.5k)

Zoro accidentally sees Ace and Sanji doing… the do, and then spends days after that feeling shocked, confused, angry, and disappointed.  A delicious story of pining and jealous Zoro. There’s a slight AceSan in the beginning but the endgame is still ZoSan.   OTHER FICS FROM THIS AUTHOR: A Siren’s Sinking Song (Teen, 12k) — a canon-divergent AU where Sanji is a siren who one day meets a peculiar swordsman from a wandering ship; this story is beautiful and I love the idea of siren!Sanji, but please note the major character death TW.  The Burden of Blondes (Explicit, 11k) — Sanji finds out that Zoro has a thing for blondes, and for some reason he feels uneasy. A fun story with some good smut, and inspired me to make an art loosely based on it.

Thy Fearful Symmetry by Harubo (Explicit, 14.3k)

A modern AU where Sanji is a tourist visiting a tiger reserve during a family vacation and Zoro is a detective investigating a poaching ring. All of Harubo’s fics are godsend but I particularly love this one because the setting reads like a perfect rom-com drama movie about a stressed, overworked chef meeting a handsome detective. There’s also a nice tidbit where the Vinsmoke siblings are trying to get along with each other.

Done Dirt Cheap by Balderdashfromafool (Explicit, 99.7k, multi-chapters & completed)

A Western ZoSan AU, where Zoro is an outlaw and Sanji is a small town chef. This one is fun and lovely, and as someone who doesn’t read a lot of Western-themed stories, I love the way the author describes the Western setting in this fic. 

The Fox's Heart by Shadowcatxx (Explicit, 32k, multi-chapters & completed)

Historical/mythological AU where fox spirit Sanji falls in love with human samurai Zoro. A pretty heavy story about forbidden romance but ends with a happy ending. The fic deals with some period-typical issues like homophobia, misogyny, sexism, and transphobia, as well as some depictions of violence and (slight) animal abuse, so please be aware of that.

Mine by burnwaywardbird (Explicit, 4k)

A pure PWP fic of Zoro “punishing” Sanji for flirting with strangers. Super kinky and involves slight dom/sub undertones. Also, while this is mostly pure PWP, this fic is technically part of a series and while can be read as a standalone, I highly recommend to read the other parts as well (especially the ones preceding this fic).

pretty sanji series (Pretty & Surprise) by kickingsanji (12.6k in total)

A series of fics exploring Sanji's femininity and Zoro discovering that he has a thing for Sanji being pretty & wearing pretty things. As a Pretty Sanji truther, I love these fics to bits, not only because it handles Sanji dealing with his insecurities when it comes to his gender expression in a gentle, respectful way, but also because the smut is very good.

All Will be Well by thecrownofclowns (Explicit, 17k)

An incredibly sad but sweet zombie apocalypse AU about Sanji trying to survive the zombie outbreak all by himself, before eventually meeting Zoro. One of my favorite hurt/comfort fics.

—OMEGAVERSE (ALPHA/BETA/OMEGA) FICS

Onigiri by himaaneko (Teen, 2.3k)

Very cute domestic family fic of Zoro, Sanji, and their son. For those who prefers a softer omegaverse with family/love-children fluff on the side, this fic is for you.

Bite Me by Shadowcatxxx (Mature, 15k, two-chapters & completed)

Sanji got attacked while he was alone on the ship, causing him to go into heat. Zoro tries to help, but not without consequences. An exposition on how Zoro and Sanji handle their dynamics, and their feelings towards each other. Please mind the tags with this one.

fever by adietxt (Explicit, 6.4k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm pretty sure that this is the first omegaverse ZoSan story that I have ever read, and one of the best ones I've ever read for a good reason. It involves Sanji, who suddenly got into his heat, and Zoro, the first one to discover Sanji in heat and learns for the first time he's an omega. I won't spoil anything, but I can say that the ending is great, the porn is delicious, and Zoro being possessive is exquisite.

Steps of Calidity by auspizien (Explicit, 42k, multi-chapters & completed)

I'm gonna preface this by saying that the smut here is ungodly good and very, very hot - and to be perfectly honest, one of the main reasons why I like this fic so much. But the plot is just as good and has an interesting take of how omegaverse dynamics might work in a modern world. Don't forget to mind the tags as well.

Sweet by ElAlmaDelMar (Explicit, 1.8k)

Sanji starts lactating during his pregnancy; Zoro finds it very hot. This one is just straight up kinky. It's a sequel to another story but can be read as a standalone.

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone I

summary: you understand blood and bones well enough, emotions are another thing entirely | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: gore, medical happenings (everyone say thank you google), Leon being confusing and standoffish, two idiots who don't know how relationships work, language, implied violence

notes: there will be more to this, but i didn't want to kill people with the nearly 10k words i've written so look out for that. also, in my brain, the dso and bsaa operate congruently so | ao3

two | three

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wonder where you would be if you hadn’t accepted that job. Maybe, if you’d kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t be sitting in a briefing room. The slideshow Hunnigan prepared is about as engaging as a lullaby. You cut a glance at Leon. He’s staring at the slideshow, clearly very invested. Hunnigan looses a huff and shuts down the projector. The hum of it dissipates into the silent room.

“Have you even been listening to me?” she asks, leveling her gaze on you. You feel sheepish.

“Yes, you say. It’s not the whole truth, but some will have to do. “I always listen to you,”

Hunnigan rolls her eyes. “Leon can brief you on the helicopter,”

With that, she gathers her things and leaves the room. You grimace.

“She puts a lot of time into those, y’know,” Leon says, not quite looking at you. “The least you could do is listen to them,”

You shrug. “Lot on my mind, I guess,”

Leon looks at you then. You can feel his gaze all over your skin. Sometimes, you wish he wouldn’t be so detached. Would it kill him to feel for other people? To feel for you?

“Just food for thought,” he says finally, looking away from you. “Get your things. We’re up in ten,”

With that, he leaves you in the briefing room. You frown, feeling the weight of his stare even when he’s not with you. It weighs heavily on your bones, infecting your blood and burning your skin. You let out a sigh, physically shaking the interaction from your body.

Your bag is stuffed into your locker. It’s a sad sight, you think. No decorations, nothing to prove you were even here. You’re another number, another set of hands forged to do their job well. You reach in, attempting to release your back from where it’s wedged. If the strain in your back is any indication, it’s really stuck. Of course it is. Nothing ever seems to go right for you on days like this. You’re able to convince a passerby to help you dislodge it. Finally, you’re able to sling it across your back, the weight of it nearly knocking you down. You wonder if this is how medics in no man’s land felt, constantly bearing the weight of their comrades’ lives in their hands.

You wonder why you’re here at all. Sometimes, when you look at the supplies in the first aid kit, you feel sick. You can still feel the sticky blood coating your fingers, still warm from its previous owner, not yet even coagulated. The amount of blood you saw that night, the amount of pained cries you heard; the memories are still very much alive and well, and they live in your brain in a spot you can’t reach.

With a sigh, you push through the door of the stairwell to reach the helipad. You could take the elevator, but you’re feeling mean and want to make Leon wait. Hoisting your bag further onto your shoulder, you begin your climb. It’s only a few flights, but it takes long enough to have Leon scowling at you once you reach the helipad.

“I said ten,” he says as you chuck your bag into the helicopter. “You’re late,”

You frown at him. “You can’t leave without me. You’d die,”

Leon mutters something under his breath as you haul yourself into your seat. He follows close behind, plopping himself in the seat beside you. He hands you a headset before putting one on himself. The blades above are spinning and drowning out the sound of everything around you. Once the headset is on, you’re left with your thoughts. You’re shoulder to shoulder with him, his own knocking into yours every now and then as you lift off. You stare out the window, watching the clouds begin to circle around the helicopter. It lulls you into sleep.

You wake sometime later. Leon nudges you awake, and you find yourself having fallen asleep upon his shoulder. You’re nestled between his collar and jaw, comfortable as can be. You find yourself not wanting to move. You do anyway, because it’s the right thing to do, and blink a few times as you return to the land of the living. Leon looks at you, a look much softer than what you’re used to, but it’s quickly replaced with his normally hard exterior. You blink back at him.

“Time to go to work,” he says, and you nod. You’ve since landed, and Leon begins unsheathing himself from the headset and buckles holding him down.

It’s a quick maneuver before you’re both standing on broken asphalt. You frown. You can almost smell the stench of bodies from where you’re standing, but you’ve yet to see any. The metallic odor of blood hangs heavy in the air, a smell you’ve never been able to escape.

Leon moves ahead quickly, leaving you to haul your supplies on your own. That’s not unusual; Leon likes to get into the thick of it as quickly as possible, while you prefer to avoid it for as long as you can. With a huff, you sling your bag over your shoulder and begin to follow him. There’s smoke that hasn’t yet cleared from fires long forgotten, and you see the makeshift tents that have been thrown up. Leon ducks between the curtains of one, and you follow him wordlessly.

There’s a few people gathered in the tent. Leon heads over to a supervisor, beginning his work. You intend to do the same. There’s an empty cot and table near the back, which is as good a place as any to set up shop. You take your time removing each piece of equipment from your bags. A handful of antiseptics here, a box of gloves there, it all comes to find a home in your small area. This is the only part of work that you like. Everything has a home until someone gets injured and you have to disrupt the quiet peace you’ve managed to create. The thought makes you frown.

“Someone tried to level the city,” Leon’s voice comes from behind you. You don’t have to always be privy to the information, but Leon likes to fill you in. “There’s not a lot to go off of,”

You shrug, not turning to face him. “We know what was here before the bomb, though, right? That should give us some inclination,”

Leon hums. “It does. But it’s not a lot,”

“Someone wanted this struck from the record and fast,” you say, finally turning to look at him. He looks tired, especially cast in the harsh light from the industrial lamps. They highlight his sharp features; jawline, angular nose, high cheekbones.

“Seems that way,” he says, taking a seat on the cot in your workspace. “Will probably be bloody,”

You sigh. “It always is,”

Day two, and you’ve gone through more stitches than you can count. A man you don’t know the name of is stuck in the makeshift quarantine room you’ve set up, and you’ve been monitoring his condition like your life depends on it. He seems normal enough, but one can never be too sure.

It’s on day three that Leon comes to you. He’s covered in blood, whether his or other, and there’s a deep purple bruise that’s forming on his jaw. He’s stumbling, nearly collapsing as he attempts to walk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, running to catch him before he falls to the floor. He grins at you. It’s lopsided and boyish, one you would imagine on him in a different time. “Did you…?”

He shakes his head. “Lost a lot of blood,”

You narrow your eyes at him, hauling him onto the cot. “I gathered that. How, though? What made you lose all the blood?”

“We were getting swarmed. Had to make a quick decision and landed on some rebar,” he says, pulling up his shirt to reveal a nasty puncture on his left side. You grimace. “I have lost a lot of blood,”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, beginning to get to work. “You’re lucky you made it back to me, Kennedy,”

He frowns at you. “I’d always make it back to you,”

You choose to ignore his comment, instead focusing on cauterization. It’s mixed up in minutes, and you begin to slather it onto Leon’s skin. He breathes in deeply, twisting up his features in a wince. You’re babbling to him, mumbling that he’s okay and it’s not that bad and that he’s tougher than it.

“I need to remove your shirt to dress it,” you say, moving to grab scissors. “Don’t you dare move your arms above your head,”

He nods, moving them back to his sides. Gently, you take the hem of his shirt between your fingers and begin to cut. Once you reach his sternum, you feel his eyes on you. He’s watching you intently, a half smile on his lips. By the time you reach the collar, your face is flushing and you can feel the sweat beginning to bead along your hairline. You finish your work on the shirt, tugging it off him. You wrap his waist to hell in bandages to keep pressure on the wound.

“Take these,” you say, handing him two pills and a glass of water. He frowns at you. “Do you want to keep being in pain, or not?”

With a grumble, he holds out his hand, palm up. You place the pills in his hand and watch as he takes them. They go down hard and he winces again.

“Quit being a baby,” you say, smiling. “They’re not that bad,”

“I’m not a baby,” he says as he settles into the cot a bit more. His voice is soft, gentle, a tone you’ve rarely heard from him. You pull the thin sheet of a blanket up over him, tucking it around his shoulders.

“You’re on bed rest until I can be sure that you won’t die,” you say. He frowns. “And you’re getting a tetanus shot as soon as possible,”

“I hate those,” he says, drawing his brows together. A line forms between them, one you suddenly ache to reach out and smooth away. You feel a chill sneak down your spine.

“Well,” you say, puffing out a breath. “Quit falling on dubious looking metal and you won’t have to get them anymore,”

He hums, closing his eyes. You let the medicine do its job and lull him to sleep.

The next morning–or night, you’re not really sure–Leon’s cot is empty. You frown, knowing that he got up and went out without checking in with you first, which sparks a bit of anger in your chest. He knows better than to do that. At the very least, he tells you he’s leaving and lets you give him a once over before he disappears. You hope he knows he’ll be getting an earful when you see him next, a few choice words already spinning in your brain.

You busy yourself by cleaning your station. You patch up a few people here and there, sewing stitches like you were made to. It’s oddly calming. You know you’re good at your job, you just wish it were under different circumstances.

You wanted to be an EMT. That was always the dream. You’d watched them save lives hundreds of times, and that was what you wanted to do, too. But fate had other plans for you, namely in terms of bioweapons that changed the chemistry of human beings. This is not where you’d thought your life would go, but you’re playing the cards you were dealt nonetheless.

It’s day six when you see Leon again. He’s with a few men that you don’t remember the names of, hauling a black body bag into your tent. Leon’s gaze locks with yours, and you can feel the apology in it all over your skin. A lump forms in your throat that you try desperately to swallow.

“Got something for you to look at,” he says, plopping the bag onto a work table near your small station. You feel sick. “If you wouldn’t mind,”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” you mumble, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. Gloves have become your security blanket. They keep the blood off your skin for the most part, which makes the job somewhat easier. Before, you’d never had an aversion to blood, it was just part of life. Now, you can never seem to wash it from your hands. Your frown deepens.

Leon hovers near you as you unzip the bag. It’s a horrid sight. The stench would be the worst part if it weren’t for the large amounts of flesh that slough off the body at every area. Whoever this was died a horrible, painful death, and you’re not even sure they knew it. You withhold a gag. They’re missing their nose, a few fingers, genitalia, and most of their bottom jaw. With as deep a breath as you can muster, you begin your work.

“What is it?” Leon asks. You shrug, breaking through their soft ribs. The crack is near silent. They were decomposing as they lived.

“Can’t be too sure yet,” you say, peeling back layers of sinew and muscle that were once taught and strong but are now lumpy and soggy. “Can you hand me a few of those dishes? I’ll need to keep samples to send home,”

Leon nods, moving around you to grab what you asked for. You place a few pieces of flesh and muscle into the dishes, closing the top and sealing away the smell. Leon’s nose wrinkles.

“You don’t have to watch,” you say, digging around further into the torso. “I know it’s not the most pleasant sight,”

“I’m the one who brought it, aren’t I?” he asks. You look at him. He’s fully serious, all hard lines and sharp edges. “It’s as much my duty as it is yours,”

You nod, continuing your work. You finally find what you’ve been digging around for. The heart is barely solid anymore. It was once healthy, capable of fueling the body better than any other organ, but it’s nothing more than a lump of tissue now. It’s oozing some kind of liquid.

“Can you hand me one of those vials?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the heart. It doesn’t look like it's been active in a while. Leon hands you a vial wordlessly, and you allow the liquid to drip into it.

“What’re you thinking?” Leon asks as you begin sewing up the sad sight of disintegrated tissue.

You shrug. “Infection of some kind. This person has been rotting a long time, whether they knew it or not. Places that should be healthy are not. My guess? They were sick long before any symptoms presented themselves and their body began to decompose and die. The infection took over,”

Leon lets out a breath. It’s not a great answer, and it’s even worse when given the context of your situation. “When will we know what it is for sure?”

“As soon as I get the results from the lab back home,” you say, disposing of your soiled gloves. “Probably two days,”

“That’s not ideal,” Leon says. There’s a strange amount of anger in his tone. You frown.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the best we’ve got,” you say, words clipped. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hose off somewhere. I’ve been rooting around in a dead body for the last fifteen minutes,”

Leon looks at you in a way that keeps you rooted in place. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, and says, “I’m sorry,”

The tension melts from your bones. “It’s okay,” you say. “We all have a job to do,”

You notice then how blue his eyes are. They’re glazed over with something you can’t place, but that doesn’t detract from their color. His face is so symmetrical, too. You’re almost jealous. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like to touch him. Before you can sweat over it, you remove yourself from the situation and go find somewhere to get clean.

On day nine, after the results have returned from the lab, Leon takes a seat on your cot. You’re worrying over some files, attempting to connect this mystery virus to anyone who would make sense. You hate this part of your job more than any other. You’re built to do things, make changes, use your hands, not whatever this is.

“Find anything interesting?” Leon asks, handing you a granola bar. Something twists in your stomach.

“Not really,” you say. “Since Umbrella’s been mostly dissolved over the years, there’s no real leads. Every doctor is either dead or missing,”

Leon hums, mouth full of his own granola. You cut a glance at him. He looks comfortable, probably more than he has in days. You wonder why. When you’re surrounded by so much death and destruction, it’s hard to find a moment to relax. You, for one, haven’t gotten much sleep considering you’re either taking refuge on your cot for a few measly hours or sat directly upright in your chair. Your back aches.

You blow out a breath, leaning back in your chair away from the files. Leon watches you. “How’s your side?”

Wordlessly, he lifts his shirt to show you the mangled mess that is your cauterizing job. “Still hurts, but it’s not bleeding or opening, so that’s good,”

You smile. “Definitely a good sign. Feeling sick in any way?”

He shakes his head. “Other than dead tired? No, I’m healthy as a horse,”

You can’t stifle the laugh that erupts from your lips. It isn’t often that Leon is kind and gentle with you, so you try to enjoy the moments where he is. “I wouldn’t go that far, Kennedy. You’ve still got a ways to go,”

He narrows his eyes playfully at you. “I’d like a second opinion,”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the granola bar he’d given you. You haven’t really been eating since you touched down nine days ago. A few snacks here and there, but nothing concrete. It’s mostly been military rations, which are dry and too filling to be satisfying. You turn your eyes back to the files spread out on your table. It would be far more helpful to study these in a place with people who knew what to look for. You’re better at getting the information rather than analyzing it. Pouring over files isn’t exactly your forte.

“We leave tomorrow,” Leon says. You look at him. “There’s not much left for us to do here until we figure out what we’re fighting,”

You nod. “And the people?”

He pauses. You know the answer, so you’re not sure why you asked. “We’ll come back for them,”

Either with a bomb or help, you’re not sure. Probably the former. “Right,”

“We’re helping them by doing this,” he says, standing up to move nearer to you. He towers over you in your chair. You feel your breath catch in your throat. “You have to believe that,”

“I know,” you say, though you’re not sure how true that is. “We’re helping people,”

“You are helping people,” he says, voice soft and serious. “More than I am, that’s for sure,”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. We’re both doing our part,”

He sets his lips into a hard line, nodding. He leaves you with that, and you return to your files. You don’t like the way he’s been making you feel. It’s confusing and makes you worry you’re reading things wrong. He’s never this kind to you, often opting for clipped responses and scowls. He still does that, but it’s softer now somehow, more playful than angry. It causes a stir in your stomach that you’re not positive is just from a lack of eating. It makes you twist up your features in order to focus.

The next morning, you’re packing your things. Your bones are anxious, ready to leave and be done with this hellscape. You feel Leon’s presence behind you before he speaks.

“Don’t tell me you’ve brought bad news,” you murmur, placing your tweezers back into their place in the kit. “I’d really like to have a real shower,”

You turn to face him then, and he’s watching you carefully like you’re a specimen to be studied. “No bad news, just coming to make sure you’re ready to leave,”

His tone is short. It makes your mouth sour. “I’m just about done here. Just…trying to recollect, I guess,”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps his gaze on you. You nod, and return to putting things away. You feel him lingering behind you like he has more to say, but chooses not to. You almost want to ask him why he’s just standing there, and if he’d rather make himself useful, but he turns away before you get the chance. It makes a bit of anger spark in your chest.

Guess we’re back to that, you think. It makes you scowl.

You haul your bag onto your back, along with a few more bits and bobs that you snagged from the tent that you’d need later. The files are tucked snugly into folders that you’ll hand to Leon the second you get onto the helicopter. You want them out of your possession as soon as possible. A frown makes its home on your face as you duck out of the tent.

The stench of rotten bodies hits you quickly, and it occurs to you that you haven’t left this tent almost the entire time you’ve been here. You’ve been too busy patching people up, digging through mutilated corpses, and taking notes. Not that you’d want to leave if you had the chance; it was a warzone out here. You suppress a gag.

“Took you long enough,” Leon says as you approach. Your frown deepens.

“You didn’t give me a time limit,” you snap. Leon’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t discern before it’s replaced by his cold exterior again.

“Shouldn’t have to,” he responds, taking your bag from you. He places it on the floor of the helicopter. His tone lacks the distinct playfulness you’d grown used to these last few days. It makes you angry. How dare he give you an olive branch and then rip it away from you just as you’d grown used to it? He’s being cruel.

A loud blast shakes the earth beneath your feet. Leon’s arms snake around you as he hauls you into his frame. You can’t even find it in yourself to look at where the explosion came from, you’re too busy staring up at him. His focus is elsewhere, of course, his calculating gaze scanning the area.

“We need to go,” he says, turning his head to look at you. You feel your knees weaken, and you’re thankful he’s holding you because you’re sure you’d collapse under his gaze.

You nod, mostly because you can’t trust yourself to speak. You hate that he suddenly has the power to render you speechless. He helps you into the helicopter before jumping in beside you. You’re lifting off as he hands you the headset.

“Okay?” he asks, voice hushed. You nod. He scans you for injuries.

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. Whether from the action or the circumstances, his face sours, and he nods. You retract your hand.

When you land sometime later, Leon is silent as he helps you unload. You trek downstairs to your office, mulling over the last week and a half in your head. You’d found yourself looking forward to the next time Leon would invade your space. He’d provided a much needed distraction from the viscera of the job, and you’d welcomed it. You wonder if that was his intention and he was just being kind. But you didn’t know Leon to be kind, especially to you. You reach your office, feeling more alone than you have in a while.

It’s dark and empty in the room, save for two desks, a chair, and a few computers. It makes you sigh. You throw your bag onto one of the desks, and realize you’re still clutching the files you’d meant to give to Leon. You toss them onto the desk as well. If he wants them, he can come get them. How are you supposed to trust him when all he does is have mood swings? With a sigh, you sit in your chair. You’re only granted a few moments of peace before Rebecca bursts into your office.

“You still have those files?” she asks. You nod, turning to hand them to her. She thumbs through them for a moment.

“Any leads?” you ask, exhaustion heavy in your voice. Rebecca cuts you a glance.

“Nothing concrete yet,” she says, tucking them under her arm. “Leon wants to take them home so he can look at them tonight,”

Your brows raise. “Why couldn’t he come get them?”

Rebecca shrugs and gives you a soft smile before bustling back out of the room. Of course. You’re only helpful in the field, you should know that by now. You try to remind yourself that you and Leon are an unwilling team. Neither of you asked to be saddled with the other. There’s no real reason for you to be friends–or anything more, for that matter–you only need to be friendly. You’ve been content with that for so long, so you don’t know why it’s such a big deal now.

Your apartment feels like heaven when you finally return to it. You stand in the shower until the water goes cold, which you feel like you deserve. You can’t get the sight of that body that Leon brought you out of your head. It was so ugly, so mangled, and you feel a pit of dread in your stomach. That was once a person, with a family, with a job and a life, and you reduced it to a science experiment. It makes you cry. You cry on the bathroom floor until your tear ducts run dry and you physically can’t anymore. Your face is red and swollen by the time you finally get into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from a long forgotten boyfriend.

And then you sit on the couch. You stare at the television, not quite watching the old movie that’s playing. All you can think about is that body. You don’t know their name, you don’t even know their gender, and they are all you can think about. You know you won’t be able to sleep, so you don’t even try.

The phone is dialed before you can even notice what you’re doing. He picks up on the second ring.

“I hope this is important,” he answers. You sniff. “You okay?”

You huff a laugh in spite of yourself. “Yeah,” you say, wiping your nose on your sleeve. The whole ordeal is gross and unbecoming, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry,”

You don’t hang up, and he doesn’t either. The line is silent for a while before he says, “You don’t want to be alone,”

It’s not a question, more of a statement, but you answer. “Yeah, I guess. This one was…harder,”

“I know,” he says. “I’ll be there in ten,”

Before you can protest, he hangs up. That wasn’t your goal, to get him trapped in your apartment, but you can’t say you’re displeased by it. You don’t want to be alone. And you can’t say you have anyone else to call, either. Things could be worse.

True to his word, a knock sounds at your front door ten minutes later. You answer it, eyes still swollen so much that they’re almost shut, and you look at Leon with slightly blurry vision. He looks so put together, so handsome, and you wonder how he manages it. It makes you frown.

“Are you going to let me in, or are you just going to stare at me in the hallway all night?” he asks, that playful tone back again. It almost makes you smile. You let him in, and he takes a minute to survey your living space. There’s a few knick knacks scattered on shelves here and there, a few pictures from high school, and your award of excellence you received when you graduated.

“I’m sorry,” you say. He turns to look at you. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I’m sure you have better things to do,”

He shakes his head. “Not really. You needed me,”

The softness of his tone makes your lips quiver. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend not to care about me half the time, and then get all soft when something is bothering me. Half the time, I can’t tell if you hate me. You did it on this last mission, and you’re doing it now. I’d rather you be mean to me all the time than do…whatever this is,” you ramble. You can feel yourself grinding your teeth as he considers you.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, then takes a seat on your couch, making himself comfortable. “I’ve never hated you,”

You frown more, if that’s even possible. “Then why do you act like you do?”

He shrugs. “Easier that way, I guess,”

Your shoulders deflate and you settle in beside him on the couch. You feel suddenly calmer being next to him. He warms your bones and eases your tension, and for a moment, you hate him for it. You hate that he’s suddenly able to chase away your darkest parts, whether he knows it or not. It almost makes you angry.

“Get some rest,” he says, voice low. You nod, eyelids already slipping closed. Your head falls onto his shoulder.

“Will you stay?” you ask.

After a moment, he says, “Of course,”

[problemchildtm]

Demolition

Derek Morgan x bau!reader

Angst/fluff~ 1.9k words

Warnings: Attachment issues, mentions of childhood trauma, bullying, self deprecating thoughts, suffering in silence (none specific), barely proofread, as always lmk if there’s more

A/n: My attempt at @reiderwriter ‘s 5K challenge. I started with one idea in mind then it kinda spiraled so this is the result. I’m still learning about writing so bear with me. This was so fun and congrats on 5K!!!!

Prompts: Grumpy x sunshine, Oh. OH, idiots in love maybe idk???

“She didn’t understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggled grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never truly lived.”

Offputting, standoffish, rude: all words used to describe your demeanor and/or personality. A combination of these and more have run through your head for so long they’ve become a backtrack to your innermost thoughts. Though these were common sentiments thrown in your direction, you had little confidence in them. The words were hurled by people who would never truly know you nor make it past the walls you’ve so carefully created. No one has succeeded or even tried to climb the barriers until Derek Morgan. You’ve been with the Bau for a little over two years and while the majority of the team learned to accept your cold demeanor, Derek continues his attempt to coax you out of your shell. It’s not like you’re hostile, you just don’t go out of your way to be nice. Rather than converse and joke with the team you sit by yourself in silence. You speak when spoken to and refuse to drag out conversations or engage in small talk. The behavior was disheartening but necessary for your survival. Each action had an intention and they all boiled down to being averse to attachments. Small talk led to hangouts, hangouts led to friendships, friendships led to attachments, and attachments always led to heartbreak. Never once has an attachment left you feeling fulfilled. You’d been a witness to this fact a plethora of times and were determined to prevent the effects happening to you. It took some time but almost everyone eventually gave up their missions to get to know you. Almost everyone.

Derek Morgan was sickengly sweet to you. Every morning he insisted on making your first cup of coffee and every morning a note was left on that cup. Affirmations like “Good things are coming your way�� or “You are a priority.” Honestly, it sounded straight out of a fortune cookie. It was dorky and inefficient yet you found yourself keeping every note. Not because you enjoyed them or found comfort in them or anything it would just be rude to throw it away. Right? Right. And it didn’t end with the notes. He’d personally drop off the note-adorned coffee and try to strike up a conversation. You’d always give a polite thank you and that was it. Well, there was one time you actually engaged with him and you swore he never smiled that hard before. Both the smile and conversation seemed to last the whole day and the ones following. His incessant need to speak and be around you should’ve annoyed you to no end but it almost made you open up. Almost. The second you felt the reins attached to your defense mechanisms loosen you immediately tightened them. They were there for a reason and somehow Derek Morgan made you want to loosen them. Under no circumstances would you give in. So, for the foreseeable future, you’d suffer in silence and suppress the urge to be unconditionally yourself in his presence.

You persisted in rejecting Derek’s attempts to get closer to you and it hurt. Why did it hurt? Unfortunately Fortunately, the upcoming case gave you no time to think about that one. Walking into the conference room, you never expected the image on the screen. It was a map of a familiar area, aka your hometown. Clearly, hiding a rare emotion in a room of profilers was futile because every single one of them asked if you were okay- even Garcia. Frozen in shock you could only muster up “hometown.” The answer seemed to appease them but you could sense the pity floating around the room. Derek gently grabbed your hand and led you to the seat beside him, grounding you. The gesture was followed by the signature Derek Morgan smile that was reserved for you. In return, you offered a small smile back and got into the case. His lingering eyes and overall concern went unnoticed by the object of his affections but caught the eye of every other person in that room. Thankfully the case was as straightforward as serial killers can be. It appeared to be cut-and-dry but everyone knew not to assume. Hypotheses and ideas were thrown back and forth between team members but you could only focus on the possibilities plaguing your mind. Taking notice of your unnaturally frightened air Derek carefully approached. “Wanna tell me what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?” Truthfully you didn’t know how to respond. What wasn’t going through your head more like? Understanding you couldn’t keep everything to yourself for the good of the case you started small. “A lot. I haven’t been there since I was sixteen and I wasn’t exactly well-liked.” Hanging on to your every word Derek continued, “Why not?” This time you didn’t respond, just kept staring out of the window. He was getting too close. You were getting too close. That wasn’t enough for him but he wouldn’t dare invade your boundaries; he cared too much to sacrifice the little progress he’s made. Before slipping on his headphones he remarked, “You don’t have to tell me but at least know I’m here and judgment-free.” This was going to be a long case.

The first few days were spent compiling evidence and chasing bodies as the case wasn’t as simple as previously thought. Each minute spent there was pulling at you. It felt like your body was constantly on fire, the only thing cooling you off being scribbles on a paper cup. The messages were less generic and more heartfelt. Unlike other mornings Derek backed off, giving you space to process your thoughts and notes. You missed the near-constant chatter and focused all your energy on the case, hoping it would return once on to the next. After a while, you had a lead. With Reid’s help the geographical profile was done and right in the center was a park you frequented as a kid. Maybe less than a park and more like a grass field surrounded by office buildings but tomato tomato. Hotch assigned you and Morgan to check it out so that’s what you went off to do. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy. He looked over and smiled. “You gonna tell me the significance of this patch of grass or do I have to profile it out of you?” Rolling your eyes you relented. There was no point in dragging it. “I grew up poor and the local park charged entry. Every poor kid in the area would come here.” The look of shock on his face wasn’t missed despite his efforts to conceal it. “I’ve never heard of a park charging kids to play is that even legal?” “Unfortunately for you, I am not Reid and cannot give you an answer.” you chuckled. That was the first time he heard you laugh in any capacity and he was so determined to hear it again. “You should laugh more, it’s adorable.” Adorable? You’ve been called a lot of names in your life: by your parents, peers, teachers, superiors, you name it. Adorable has never been one of them. You spent a couple of seconds analyzing him. “You think I’m adorable?” At the end of your sentence, that smile reappeared. “Incredibly. Especially when you try not to smile at my jokes.” He said playfully. Dumbfounded, the only retort you had was honesty. “I don’t smile much anymore. I want to but I can’t.” “Why not?” As much as you wanted the conversation to continue, you couldn’t help but notice how different your childhood hotspot looked. While his eyes were still on you you jumped out of the SUV and took in your surroundings. It smelt different. Years ago it smelt like wonder. As hopeless as it sounds the area smelt like wonder. It felt like an entirely different reality. One you could escape to when things at home and school were bad and that was often if not continuously. It no longer felt like that. It felt cold, bare even. The childlike wonder was gone, the hope was gone, your escape was gone. Suddenly your eyes began to well with tears and the floodgates opened. "You didn't understand why, but faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, you were nothing but a child who had never lived." The emotions overwhelmed every sense and the brass reality hit like a truck. All the walls, all the precautions stopped you from ever truly living. You clung onto that escape and depended on it, perpetually remaining the child that needed to come here to truly live. You wanted to be more open, you wanted to have friends and relationships, you wanted to be better.

Everything came to a head when Derek rushed over to you, frantically asking if you were okay. He’s never seen you cry. Before today he’s never seen you be anything other than complacent. The past fifteen minutes have been the most amount of emotions he’s seen from you and he didn’t know what to do or how to help. Worried, he stuck to a bearhug and a mantra: “You’re okay, you’re safe, come back to me please.” He was practically begging after five minutes. In between breaths, you managed to get out a strangled “Why do you like me? Why haven’t you given up on me?” You were still crying but Derek knew he needed to act. He pulled away and softly wiped your tears, forcing you to look at him. “I need you to copy my breathing baby, can you do that?” It took some time but you were able to get your breathing under control, the tears not so much. Silence took over the two of you until he spoke up. “Why would I give up on you? Everyone suffers differently. You choose silence and that’s okay, the only thing I can do is be a shoulder for you to cry on if you choose it. I haven’t given up because I want you to be happy.” He paused, gathering his next thoughts. “I like you because you’re unapologetically you. You try to detach yourself and not care but you’re not great at it. I know you sneak Garcia’s favorite snacks into her lair and don’t think I’m oblivious to you being the one to listen to Reid’s ramblings when the rest of us tune him out.” You interrupted him. “You guys should stop doing that by the way it’s mean” For the first time in what felt like forever he laughed. “See that’s what I mean. You hide behind a grumpy exterior but you’re so much more than that, and that’s one of the many reasons I like you.” You just stared at him. You couldn’t remember the last time someone spoke to you like that, let alone the last time someone saw beyond your gruff exterior. You started to apologize for the breakdown but he quickly nipped that, explaining how you don’t need to feel sorry. You felt safe for once. The cold feeling dissipated and was replaced by an unfamiliar warmth. The tears stopped and you were hyperfocused on the way the man in front of you met your eyes. The silence that hung over you felt like normalcy that only lasted a second before Derek spoke up. “If it wasn’t clear baby I like you.” You looked up at him confused. “I know you just told me that.” A dopey smile spread across his face as he answered. “No, I like you and want to take you out on a date.” Oh. OH. You smiled. A real, toothy, dopey smile that matched his. “I’d like that.” The walls began chipping away.

It would take time and resources to completely demolish them but for the first time you were excited for the demolition.

[pretzel-box]

CHAPTER 5 | Masterlist for AASB here!

Tags: Threats, Violence, not proof read

Words: 5k

Authors Note: I had to rewrite it all in the middle of the night. It's not proof read and can have logic issues, weird sentences or mixed up stuff.

Working with Sebastian was a challenge in itself, a blend of relentless demands and looming danger. His form of labor was relentless, and unfortunately for you, that meant being handed all the menial tasks he didn’t care to do.

"Files," he growled, his focus on the broken flashlight in his hands. The odd position of his hulking figure and the delicate way he maneuvered his claws around the tools was fleeting, yet striking. For a moment, you caught a glimpse of something softer beneath the brutality, but it vanished as quickly as it came. His head snapped toward you, impatience flashing in his eyes.

“You either sort the files or I take them and stuff them into your silly little mouth to gag you. Then you can spend the rest of the day suffocating in the locker."

Threats were his specialty. He was creative with them, always finding some twisted, violent edge to keep you in line. If there was one constant in your work with Sebastian, it was the looming sense of his brutal tendencies, always just beneath the surface.

Working with Sebastian wasn’t just about completing the tasks he shoved your way. It was about observing him. Getting to know the man he never wanted you to see. He shut you out—always. His words were sharp, often wrapped in a threat or some dark humor. Social interaction, for him, was nothing more than a tool, laced with violence. But you learned more about him through what he didn’t say, what he couldn’t hide.

He had no friends. You could see the loneliness gnawing at him, eating away like a hungry animal. It was clear in his posture, in the way he worked late into the night, avoiding sleep. That loneliness—it clung to him, scratched at his mind, likely kept him awake when the world quieted. Being lonely, that was something human, something he tried desperately to deny. He told himself he didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need you.

But it was clear he was anxious. You could feel it like a current, underlying everything he did. There was a paranoid edge to him, a mind that had been on high alert for too long. The madness of survival must’ve driven him to do things—things you didn’t want to imagine. His hands would sometimes shake, and his eyes lingered on certain items, fixated, as if they could reveal something to him. He was scared. Just as scared as you were, but neither of you would ever admit it.

For all his threats and violence, you realized that Sebastian wasn’t just your tormentor. He was trapped too, battling the same fears that haunted you.

And god forbid you to address it in front of him. He will behead you with a rusty piece of scrap metal, cutting your limbs and putting them in an old dirty jar to sell.

“Urbanshades finest idiot on sale.”

Before you knew it, he threw a bag at you, the metal in it hitting a part of your leg, making you whine in pain. It will definitely leave a bruise later on, coloring your flesh.

“Stop whining and go get new stuff.”

This was also a common occurrence, he would send you out, but not without a special item. He always placed a metallic bracelet around your ankle. It was one of Urbanshades creation. Simply enough, it will reveal your location as long as you are far away enough from the scrambler on Sebastian’s back. He can track you down himself easily when you are near him but it's another story when you are in another area. He also warned you, do some weird business and he can give you electronic shocks with it. Yet he never did so far, leaving it an actual mystery if he can.

So, in the end, he had two things. Painter and the bracelet.

You hurried out, the cold metal of the vent that he made you use as an exit, biting against your palms as you crawled through it, the sound of your own breath loud in the confined space. The small shaft felt even tighter with each movement, but you forced yourself forward. You had studied the building’s layout just enough to navigate through the vents, at least in theory.

Each turn brought you closer to the hallway on the other side, where freedom—or at least a chance at it—awaited. You tried not to think about the pounding in your chest or the echo of your hurried breaths. The vent rattled beneath you as you moved, but you knew better than to stop. Stopping meant giving up, and giving up meant facing whatever Sebastian had in store for you. And that wasn’t an option.

The moment you saw the faint sliver of light marking the vent cover at the end, you sped up, the desperation clawing at you as fiercely as the metal beneath your hands.

You pushed the vent cover open as quietly as you could and dropped into the hallway, your knees bending to absorb the impact as you fell down a small bit. The air was cool and heavy, carrying the scent of dust and something faintly metallic. Dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows across the floor. You stood still for a moment, letting your eyes adjust, your heart pounding in your ears. This was your chance for some time in indirect freedom, but you had to be smart about it.

The hallway stretched out in both directions, abandoned and eerily quiet. You forced yourself to take a slow breath, shaking off the tension that threatened to paralyze you. You didn’t have a plan—just a vague sense that you needed to gather what you could. Anything useful. Most of the things would end up in Sebastians shop, but a few rare pieces would stay in your secret stash. Over the time where Sebastian let you wander around, you started to stash useful items in a small hole inside a wall. It was covered by a large picture of the ocean, so Sebastian wouldn't find it.

You began walking, your footsteps barely making a sound on the cold floor despite the heavy boots that Urbanshade gave you. The first thing you spotted was a drawer left half-open, its contents scattered across a small desk. You rifled through it quickly, pocketing a few items—a worn-out screwdriver, some loose wires, and a small flashlight. Its battery was low, but it would do.

Moving further down the hallway, you noticed a small alcove where someone had abandoned a toolbox. You knelt down, opening it with a soft creak. Inside were tools, some rusted but still functional—a wrench, pliers, and a pair of wire cutters. You stuffed them into your bag, the weight of them reassuring as you planned to put them in your secret spot.

The sound of a distant clank made you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You held your breath, waiting for any sign that Sebastian—or someone else—had heard you. But after a long, agonizing pause, the hallway remained silent. You exhaled slowly, your nerves stretched thin.

You pressed forward, passing broken machinery, old filing cabinets, and the occasional door that led to rooms too dark to explore. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up more small items—batteries, a bundle of cables, anything that might help. Each find felt like a tiny victory, a step closer to surviving whatever this place held.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Sebastian was always watching.

As you continued down the dimly lit hallway, the flickering overhead lights began to pulse more erratically. You barely had time to react before, with a loud crackle, they all went out at once, plunging you into near-total darkness. Your heartbeat quickened as you stood still, holding your breath in the sudden silence. The lights were an indicator for danger, your life was now at risk based on the logic you picked up.

Then, just ahead, a few small lamps on the ceiling began to flicker on, one by one, their pale, cold light guiding you down another hallway. It felt deliberate, like you were being led somewhere on purpose. Warily, you followed the lights, each step quieter than the last, your grip tightening on the small flashlight in your hand—though it felt useless in this strangely guided path. You had the feeling that it wasn't the smartest thing to do and yet your feet carried you through it all out of pure curiosity.

The hallway twisted and turned, eventually leading you to a large metal door that was slightly ajar. You pushed it open slowly, the heavy metal groaning in protest. Inside, the room was massive, the walls stretching higher than you expected. What caught your attention, though, was the far wall, covered entirely with televisions of different sizes, each screen reflecting dim light off the walls.

At first, the televisions remained dark, save for the occasional flicker of static. You stepped closer, unsure if you should be there at all. Then, one by one, the screens started to come to life. Some flashed erratically, while others lingered on a static-filled image before cutting off again. You watched, transfixed, as more screens flickered on, creating a patchwork of glowing light and sound. The images were unclear—just distorted patterns, numbers, and strange symbols.

Suddenly, with a loud hum, all the screens snapped into place, merging into one enormous, seamless picture. The static and symbols dissolved, leaving behind a single, vivid image: a digital face.

An unfamiliar face, though digitized and slightly distorted, stared back at you from the giant wall of screens. Painter's expression was calm but somehow felt more intense, the lines of his digital form flickering ever so slightly as if he were barely holding himself together. His eyes, glowing with an eerie light, locked onto you through the screens.

"Hello," his voice crackled through the speakers, the sound distorted but unmistakably his. "I’ve been waiting.”

Painter’s voice cut through the dim hum of the room, and as soon as the sound registered, your brain was flooded with memories—fragments of conversations, moments of strained camaraderie, the familiar yet unsettling presence of this digital entity. It dawned on you, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t just some trick or illusion. This was Painter.

On the surface, his face looked simple, almost innocent in its digital form, but the weight of his presence was suffocating. There was a quiet malice radiating from him, something that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. It was a different kind of danger from Sebastian. With Sebastian, you always knew what to expect—the violence, the threats, the twisted game of dominance. As frightening as he was, there was a predictability to him.

But Painter? Painter was a mystery. The way his eyes glowed from the screens, the subtle distortion in his voice, all hinted at something darker, something more calculating. You weren’t sure what he wanted or what he was capable of. And that uncertainty gnawed at you.

Sebastian wouldn’t kill you—not yet, anyway. You were somewhat useful to him. But Painter... you didn’t know if he operated by the same rules. His digital form meant he could be everywhere and nowhere, watching you, controlling things behind the scenes. You had no idea what his true intentions were, and that made him all the more dangerous.

The silence stretched between you, his digital face watching you unblinkingly from the massive wall of televisions. The room felt colder, the air thick with tension. You swallowed hard, your mind racing to piece together what he wanted, why he had led you here.

"I see you’ve been... busy," Painter's voice crackled again, softer now but no less unsettling. His expression didn’t change, but you could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was studying you, sizing you up for something yet to come. "Is it fun? Are you enjoying yourself, running around like a little mouse? I must admit…You are truly disgusting."

The question hung in the air, the tone more reflective than threatening. But still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were walking a fine line, teetering between being useful or expendable in his eyes.

“Sebastian let me—”

“Sebastian. Sebastian! SEBASTIAN ISN'T THE ONLY ONE IN CHARGE. Don't think you get a free pass for survival just because he has fun playing with you. You are just temporary, a distraction, a nuisance. Don't you DARE to think that you could wiggle your way to freedom, not when I AM TRAPPED LIKE THIS. YOU WILL NOT LEAVE AS LONG AS I HAVE MY EYES ON YOU. I AM THE ONE THAT HAS YOU RIGHT IN HIS HAND!”

Painter's voice was no longer just unsettling—it was saturated with hatred, every syllable sharp with venom. The usual mechanical distortion of his digital form couldn't mask the intensity of the emotion behind it. His tone, rising and falling with an eerie unpredictability, seemed to buzz with something far darker, something that sent a chill racing down your spine.

It wasn’t just dislike or anger; it was pure bloodlust, raw and palpable, like a knife hovering inches from your skin. Painter hated you with a ferocity you hadn’t fully grasped until this moment. The malice in his voice threatened to reach through the screens, as if his digital form was barely containing the rage inside him.

Yet his tone snapped back, to sweet and innocent. “You see, f r i e n d. You are in d a n g e r. Sebastian is not your savior, no, he will be the one that slaughters you. He is temporarily blinded by your existence, but oh, don't you w o r r y. In the end, he will free me and not y o u.”

You shook your head, trying to push away the growing fear gnawing at you, but it was too late—Painter's words had already dug deep, filling your mind with dread. Your heartbeat quickened, each pulse loud in your ears as his laughter rang out, echoing through the room. It was a chilling sound, distorted and mechanical, yet filled with a sickening glee. The lights flickered erratically, casting strange shadows that made everything seem more sinister.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, the laughter stopped. The screens snapped to black, plunging the room into absolute darkness. For a moment, you stood frozen, the silence pressing in on you like a weight, your breath shallow and rapid as you struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Painter was gone, vanished without a trace.

You barely had time to process it before the lights flickered back on, as if nothing had happened at all. The room looked the same—the screens were still there, silent and lifeless, the heavy air still thick with tension—but something had shifted. The sudden absence of Painter's presence left you disoriented, unsure of what would happen next.

Your legs felt unsteady as you scanned the room, half-expecting him to reappear, waiting for the next wave of malice. But all that remained was the faint hum of electricity, the room eerily still. It was as if the entire encounter had been some kind of twisted nightmare, one that left you feeling more vulnerable than before.

But you knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

“Did I scare you?” a new voice echoed through the speakers. It was female, calm, and unnervingly polite. “Pardon me, little bunny. Let me introduce myself.”

The voice was different from Painter’s; no malice dripped from it, no distorted laughter followed. Instead, it was sharp, precise, and deliberate, every word measured.

“This is Professor Doctor Sasha Mariya Lazarski speaking, lead researcher of Urbanshade's 4th research department,” she continued, her tone holding a faint trace of amusement, as though she was speaking to a child who had wandered somewhere they shouldn't. “It was quite troublesome to track you down, but I assume you’ve found your target?”

Her voice lingered in the air like a cold mist. Urbanshade. The name sent a chill down your spine, reminding you of things you had tried not to think about—things you wished you could forget. The cold clinical nature of her voice told you this was no casual encounter. She had been watching, waiting, and she was here for a reason.

The silence stretched for a moment, as if she were giving you time to gather your thoughts—or perhaps relishing in the tension she’d created.

"You haven't forgotten your goal, have you?" Dr. Lazarski continued, her voice still eerily polite. "Now, let’s discuss the matter at hand. Since we couldn't reach out to you for a…rather long while…I used the chance to check on our precious little bunny. The scrambler is still on, and we can't have that.”

Her tone shifted, becoming more gentle, almost like a mother scolding her child with an unsettling mix of patience and authority. It was unnerving, the way she maintained that softness, as though she wasn't speaking about something so dire.

“You’ve been quite slippery, little bunny,” Dr. Lazarski said, her voice laced with a faint sigh of amusement. “For a while, we lost track of you. But I know now that’s thanks to him—the device that Sebastian carries, isn’t it?”

Her words settled heavily in the air. You had managed to evade them, temporarily disappearing from their watchful eyes because of that device. The one Sebastian had kept close, something you hadn’t thought much about until now. But now it was clear: that device was the key to everything. And they wanted it—wanted you to shut it down.

“It’s quite clever, really,” she continued, her voice dripping with gentle condescension. “A temporary blind spot in our systems, a little trick of his. But it won’t last, you know that, don’t you? You’ll have to shut it down sooner or later. It’s only a matter of time.”

The calmness in her voice made it worse. She wasn’t threatening you, not directly, but her words made it clear that they had a plan, and you were running out of options. Each second you held onto that device was borrowed time, and they were watching closely, waiting for the moment when you would slip.

“Now, my dear,” she said, her voice almost soothing. “You’ve come this far. Let’s not make things more difficult for you, hm? Be a good little bunny and do what needs to be done.”

That last sentence sent a cold shiver down your spine. The way she spoke, it was as if your fate had already been sealed, as though there was no other option but to follow her lead.

“I have a gift to help you,” Dr. Lazarski’s voice continued, her tone never losing that eerie, motherly calm. “On the third floor is a hallway leading to a temporary research lab. You’ll find some of my old belongings there, including a handy-dandy keycard. You will need it.”

Her words lingered, the promise of a gift laced with something far more sinister. She was offering help, but it was hard to shake the feeling that it came with strings attached—strings that could easily tighten around your neck.

You swallowed hard, the dim light of the room doing little to ease the knot of tension building in your chest. This wasn’t an offer out of kindness; it was a carefully laid path, one that she fully expected you to walk down. The keycard could be a way out—or a trap. But did you have any other choice?

"Don’t keep me waiting, little bunny," she added softly, as if she could sense your hesitation. "Time is running out and your father grows worried. Hate to tell him that his dear child might be…dead!~"

The keycard could be your key to survival—not just to navigate the labyrinth that Sebastian kept you trapped in, but also to open new paths, ones that might lead to freedom. It offered possibilities, but with them came risks. You could bypass the locked areas, gain a step ahead of Sebastian, maybe even find a way out. But you knew deep down, escaping the Blackside was not as simple as finding an open door.

Dr. Lazarski’s voice, soft and coaxing, had made it clear. If you wanted to escape, you’d have to play by her rules, follow Urbanshade’s instructions. There was no room for rebellion, no safe path where you could make a break for it. Escaping meant tracking down Z-13, deactivating the scrambler, and retrieving the crystal. It was all part of their plan.

But there was a grim reality in this twisted game. Completing her tasks might not guarantee your freedom. Even if you managed to find the crystal, shut down the scrambler, and get past Sebastian, you’d still be caught in Urbanshade’s web. They didn’t care about you; you were just a tool in their grander scheme. And a tool could easily be discarded once its use was over.

Still, the keycard was a means to an end, a potential weapon to use against Sebastian if things turned sour. You couldn’t deny its potential value. But each step you took down this path brought you closer to Dr. Lazarski’s cold, calculating grip, and that chilled you to the core.

You took a breath, weighing your options. Whatever choice you made, there was no turning back.

With a deep breath, you moved your feet, leaving the dark room behind. Dr. Lazarski's directions echoed in your mind, the path ahead as clear as it was unnerving. You needed the keycard—there was no other way if you wanted any chance of navigating through the facility or dealing with Sebastian. The third floor, the temporary research lab. That was your target.

As you made your way through the dimly lit hallways, the faint hum of electricity filled the silence. Each step felt heavier than the last, your heart beating in time with your footsteps. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, that at any moment, something—or someone—could be lurking around the next corner.

The stairwell leading to the third floor loomed ahead, its metal door slightly ajar. You hesitated for a second, glancing over your shoulder as if expecting Painter to reappear or Sebastian to emerge from the shadows. But the hallway remained empty, the stillness pressing in on you.

Pushing the door open, the creaking metal echoed through the stairwell. The climb felt longer than it should have, each step a reminder of how far you were from safety. But you kept moving, determined. Reaching the third floor, you stepped into a narrow hallway, the air noticeably cooler.

This was it.

The lab was just ahead, down the hall where the light flickered sporadically. You could feel a knot tightening in your stomach. Dr. Lazarski’s promise of a “gift” lingered in your mind, and you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt that came with it. But you had no choice now.

You moved forward, ready to see what awaited you.

You stepped into the hallway, the flickering lights casting erratic shadows on the walls as you approached the door to the lab. The air here felt stale, as if no one had been in this part of the building for a long time. Your hand hovered over the handle, and with a soft creak, the door swung open, revealing the research lab.

It looked as though it had been left in a hurry, abandoned mid-experiment. The room was large but cluttered, with overturned chairs and papers scattered across the floor, some of them crumpled and torn. The dim light revealed stacks of old folders and documents, some stained with what looked like coffee, others torn as though someone had hastily searched through them before fleeing. A few cabinets were left open, revealing rows of empty shelves that once held important equipment or files now long gone.

In the center of the room stood a large metal table, covered in dusty instruments—scalpels, syringes, and strange-looking vials filled with murky, discolored liquids. The lab equipment, once precise and organized, was in disarray. Broken glass littered one corner of the room, where a microscope lay overturned, its lenses cracked.

The walls were lined with tall, metal shelves that held rusted equipment and various electronic devices. Some screens flickered with static, while others were completely dead, their once bright surfaces now covered in dust. On one of the shelves, you noticed a row of petri dishes, some of them still filled with moldy substances that had long since decayed.

It was clear that whoever had worked here had left in a rush. Loose cables dangled from the ceiling where overhead lights had once been connected, and a nearby computer screen was frozen, stuck on an error message as if it had been hastily abandoned mid-task.

At the far end of the room, amidst the chaos, was a small desk. On top of it lay what you had come for—a sleek, metallic keycard, sitting on top of a stack of disorganized files. It gleamed faintly in the flickering light, out of place in the otherwise neglected lab.

You crossed the room carefully, your eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, half-expecting something—or someone—to be watching. The place felt wrong, as if whatever had driven them out in such haste still lingered, waiting.

Your fingers closed around the keycard, the metal cool to the touch. For a moment, you stood there, staring at it, knowing it was more than just a key—it was a tool, a step toward something larger, something both freeing and terrifying. But this wasn’t over yet. There was still Z-13, the scrambler, the crystal.

You pocketed the keycard, your mind already racing with possibilities and plans. The lab remained silent, a graveyard of forgotten experiments and lost time. It was time to leave before the ghosts of this place caught up to you. Your next step was a mistake. The floor groaned under your weight, cracking until it gave way, sending you plunging through into a body of water on what appeared to be the second floor.

Green torches floated eerily in the water, their ghostly glow cutting through the darkness and guiding your way. You followed them, each stroke through the cool water feeling heavier than the last, but the flickering lights kept pulling you forward. As you broke the surface, you were met not with relief, but with an unsettling familiarity. The room around you was nothing extraordinary—just another plain office space with bland walls and stark furniture—but the tension in the air was undeniable. You recognized it immediately, every detail, every corner. It was a place you'd been before, a place that held memories you wished you could forget.

Your heart sank as the realization dawned on you: the path you had followed led straight back to Sebastian. The subtle dread that crept over you grew stronger with each passing second, as if the room itself was preparing you for the inevitable encounter. You knew this wasn’t just a coincidence. It never was with Sebastian.

The familiar clanging of a vent being kicked open echoed through the sterile office, the sound reverberating off the walls like a warning. Your pulse quickened, knowing exactly what that meant—you were close. Too close to your so-called "temporary home," Sebastian's shop.

Before you could gather your thoughts, his voice pierced the silence, rough and impatient. "YOU BETTER MOVE BEFORE I DECIDE TO LEAVE YOU IN THE HALLWAY!" His angry scream sent a chill down your spine. It wasn't just a threat; with Sebastian, it was a promise. You knew better than to test his temper—he had little patience for delays, and you were already pushing it.

You hurried forward, heart pounding, knowing that whatever lay ahead wasn’t just another task, but another trial in the long list of dangers that came with being anywhere near Sebastian's world.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine. "Took you long enough…” he muttered.

"I'm back!" you shouted hastily, making your way toward the vent, arms full with the items you'd collected. You scrambled through the narrow passage, the cold metal pressing against your skin as you hurried to avoid another one of Sebastian's outbursts.

When you finally popped out on the other side, you were immediately met by his towering figure, his presence looming over you like a shadow. His fluorescent eyes, glowing unnaturally in the dim light, locked onto you, their intensity sending a shiver down your spine.

"Took you long enough... bunny," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm, yet laced with an unsettling edge. The nickname felt more like a mockery than anything else, a reminder of how he viewed you—small, fragile, and easily caught.

Befriending Sebastian was the exit. Track him down, turn of the device he owns and get the crystal.

"Good work, for once," Sebastian muttered, his voice oozing condescension. His large hand landed on your head, rough and heavy, as he ruffled your hair like you were some kind of pet. The gesture was far from affectionate, more of a reminder of your place beneath him.

"Finally useful for once. And yet, not smart," he continued, his fluorescent eyes narrowing as he studied you. "You could've kept it—used it as a guaranteed exit." His words dripped with mockery, as if he were testing you, waiting to see if you’d flinch or reveal something in your expression.

You kept your face steady, masking the frustration boiling beneath the surface. He wasn’t wrong—you could’ve used the keycard for your own escape, but playing it that way would have burned bridges you couldn’t afford to lose just yet. For now, you had to endure the humiliation, take the hit, and let Sebastian think he was the one in control.

In your mind, the game wasn’t over. You’d make sure the next move was yours.

[kikixreverie]

Need to know

Best friend!Bucky x Fem!reader

Summary - When your best friend starts acting strange and you're left confused about his feelings, Natasha manages to convince you to try to make him jealous, what could go wrong?

Word count - 5k

Warnings - kind of smut, Dry-humping, slight dirty talk, a lot of kissing, fluff, jealousy

A/n - This was a request from an anon but Tumblr ate the ask... and I don't have it written down, but it was something along the lines of 'Best friend!bucky x reader where she asks him advice about a guy to make him jealous'. I wrote this months ago and it definitely wasn't supposed to be this long but here we are. I have edited it about 50 times now and still feel kinda anxious about it since I haven't posted in a while so I really hope you enjoy!

-------------------------------------

You had always been close with Bucky. Always. Having met in your teenage years and grown up together, you were thick as thieves, he'd been your best friend for now the majority of your life. Someone you'd always go to over anyone else when problems would arise at home or school, and he did the same with you.

He had found you hiding out in the library on your second day at your new school, picking at your food with distaste as you sat alone. You were surprised at the fact that the boy had even talked to you in the first place, offering a small wave of his hand and a kind smile when you first saw him, but when he asked politely if he could sit with you and didn't hesitate to pull his lunch from his backpack and complain as dramatically as possible that there was just 'far too much food in his bag and no way he could eat it all', you remember smiling the most you had in weeks, rolling your eyes as you took the fruit he had offered you wordlessly.

You'd been best friends ever since, and there was always this unspoken understanding between you, one that you never had with Steve, as much as you loved him, or Natasha, as close as you are. It was always different with Bucky, always a different atmosphere between the two of you.

That was also unspoken. You'd mentioned it once to Natasha, explained to her that somehow, just being in the same room as him managed to calm that ever-looming anxiety you tended to feel, and when you'd meet his eyes across the distance, you always knew exactly what he was trying to tell you without any words needing to be spoken, that for weeks after your childhood pet passed away when you were 15, Bucky held your hand every single day because your anxiety had spiked and he had noticed the constant shake to them. That became a hard habit to lose.

Her response was 'the look', almost deadpan, wordlessly saying to you 'I know you're not a fucking idiot, c'mon now'.

You had blushed and changed the subject.

Of course there were times you might've looked at him a bit differently, you met at a fairly young age, and it was after meeting him that your interest in boys grew.

Watching the scrawny boy you'd known since you were 13 get his braces off and grow a sudden foot taller was a lot for your growing heart to handle, and then that Brooklyn-boy charm came in and girls were falling at his feet, not one of them knowing or caring about who he was, just hypnotised by those light blue eyes. You always hoped he was too distracted by those girls to notice how desperately hard you tried not to fall under his spell too.

So yeah sure, there may have been a time during your mid-to-late teens and possibly your early twenties that you might have liked him in a' more than a friend' way.

But that didn't mean anything had to come of it.

However, there's a certain red-headed Russian woman in your life that, for some reason, refuses to let you hide in your dark pit of misery and denial.

You shouldn't have even mentioned it. the one time you willingly brought up the topic of James Barnes with the all-knowing Natasha and she had immediately fed your delusions.

"I'm not saying he was jealous at all, Nat, I'm just saying... he looked kind of upset."

"What kind of upset? Did he look sad? Angry? Were his eyebrows all furrowed? ooh, did his fists clench? I bet his fists clenched. The jaw definitely clenched. He's a jaw clencher for sure-"

"Nat, Stop! He just..." You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically as you leaned against her kitchen counter, "He just seemed off."

"Okay, but did his jaw-"

"Yes! Now can we stop talking about it."

She stopped what she was doing to stare at you, her eyebrows raised, "You do realise you're the one that brought it up right?"

You sighed and pressed your palm to your forehead, before dragging it down your face, and Natasha tutted, wrapping her arms around you in a tight squeeze.

"You're stressing yourself out too much about all this, babe. Why don't you just ask him how he feels."

You pulled back from the comforting embrace quickly, but still stayed in her arms, "Fuck that. No. No way. Then he'd know, he'd know why I asked, or he'd at least ask me why I asked and then I'd either have to run away or lie to him and I've never been able to-"

"Okay, breathe angel. Stop this, you can't do this forever, honey. I know you're scared of losing him but this is what could break your friendship if you let it, half the time you're avoiding him because you are so scared of him knowing how you feel." Said Natasha, before she pulled away to continue with her cooking.

"What do you mean how I feel?" You asked, feeling your cheeks grow hot when she sighed and shook her head, not even looking your way.

"Nope, no, not even gonna get started on that one. You know exactly what I'm talking about."

You opened your mouth to argue but she only gave you another look, and your mouth snapped closed.

It was silent for a moment and you leant your elbows on the counter, holding your face in your hands as you watched her expertly sprinkle different spices into her food, but you knew not to get too comfortable in her silence, Natasha was scheming, and that was definitely something to be frightened of.

You practically jumped out of your skin when she finally broke the silence, "I have an idea, but I need you to have an open mind and actually listen for once, okay?"

You hesitated, struggling to hold the intense eye-contact she was currently giving you. A part of you was ready to say no, tell her to leave it be and let you wither in a pit of sadness, but the rest of you leaned in to her words, wanting, no, needing something to happen, anything after years of this constant stalemate, this strange game of cat and mouse between yourself and your best friend. You were constantly holding your breath around Bucky, waiting for something inevitable to happen. What that would be? You had no idea, but you couldn't do it anymore.

"...go on." You finally said, having made up your mind without realising. Natasha almost seemed surprised, but you weren't sure that was even possible. She nodded and gave you a smile.

"You wanna know if he was jealous? Give him a reason to be and then figure out if he is, that way, you'll have more of an idea of how he's feeling, and when it comes to talking to him about your feelings, you might actually do it this time. Plus, you might get some info on how to get him even more interested."

You thought over her words, still confused as to what her grand plan was, "And how might I do that exactly?"

"Say you've got a date, ask him for advice, play with him a little bit. Works every time, trust me."

She said it like it was no big deal, and you were stuck on the way her smirk widened when she said 'play with him a little bit'.

"I just told you I can't lie to him." You replied.

Natasha simply raised her eyebrow at you, "As if you haven't been lying to him since you were 15."

"Hey, that's not lying, it's just... concealing certain parts of the truth."

She tilted her head in your direction but you ignored her, turning away completely and crossing your arms over your chest with a huff.

"Don't lie then, tell him that your interested in some guy and play it off like your asking for advice. He doesn't have to know that he is said guy and its all a secret ploy to make his jaw clench again."

"Nat." You groaned.

"What?"

"Why would I ask him for advice though? He knows I'd go to you."

Nat sighed this time, frustrated with your excuses, "Tell him you wanted advice from a guy."

"But Steve-"

"Just do it! If he's actually jealous he'll be more focused on the fact that your trying to get into pants that aren't his." She raised her voice, dropping her wooden spoon into the simmering pot to turn to you, that Russian accent peaking through her words.

"Nat, I'm telling you now, he isn't jealous."

She almost started to argue, but then she spotted that dejected look in your eye and stopped herself, taking a deep breath to calm her frustrations and think of a good response, "Are you saying that because you believe it? Or because you want him to be jealous so bad you wish he wasn't, because you're terrified of losing him."

You went silent, staring down at the floor when you realised you had no response for her.

"Thought so." She said before shuffling closer, pulling you in for a hug, "Look babe, you need to stop worrying about what could happen, and just focus on what is happening right now. If you're not ready to tell him how you feel, you don't have to. Trying this won't hurt, and it won't hurt your friendship, okay? Go one step at a time, you're getting too ahead of yourself."

You thought about it for a while as you enjoyed the hug, before you pulled back and nodded, thanking her for the advice and apologising for being difficult, she only chuckled and began to dish up the food.

"No worries honey, I'm used to it."

It's not like you had ever said you'd actually do it, and you never exactly planned to. But Natasha's plan had started to loom over every interaction you had with Bucky, so much so that without realising you had started to avoid him, and that only made you feel worse.

It took a sleepless night of tossing and turning and missing your best friend like crazy when you finally made the decision. You can't do this forever, why not just say fuck it for once.

It started when Bucky had invited you to his place for a movie night, like he did every weekend, like he had the past two weekends where you had declined, but this time you said yes, and decided that this would be the night you tried to make him jealous.

You weren't proud of it, and a part of you felt incredibly guilty as you stood at his door and knocked. No matter how many times Natasha told you this was harmless, you still couldn't believe her.

"Are we knocking now? What happened to 'your place is my place'?" Bucky asked as he opened the front door to let you in, barely moving aside so your arm brushed against his when you walked past him.

"Ha ha. Just didn't know if it was locked or not." You punched his shoulder and he scrunched up his face in mock offense.

"Sure. Go sit down and pick a movie, I'm just getting some snacks ready." Bucky said, nodding to the couch before he turned and walked into the kitchen, black sweatpants so low on his hips you could just about see the waistband of his boxers, wearing a black t-shirt with his hair pulled back into the low bun you'd helped him learn how to do.

You nodded slowly, watching him walk away for a few seconds before rolling your eyes at your own idiotic behaviour and slumping down across Bucky's couch, the remote in your hand as you lazily flicked through Netflix.

"Any particular genre?" You shouted out to Bucky, who came out from the other room to shrug his shoulders at you.

"Like I said, doll, whatever you'd like. Only fair after I made you come with me to see that god-awful movie Pheobe forced me to watch."

You snorted a laugh, frowning when he walked away again, your mind wandering to the last time you went to the movies with Bucky, over a month ago now, when he had forced you to third-wheel his second date with 'Pheobe' for no apparent reason.

It was almost humiliating the way she had pulled you aside in the bathroom.

-

"I seriously don't mean to be rude but... why are you here?" Pheobe whispered, despite the fact that every stall was empty and Bucky was stood outside the building, but your face grew heated as the woman across from you voiced the exact question you'd been asking yourself all night, "Like, at first I thought you were a lesbian, but after that story you told earlier I'm assuming you're not, which is fine, but why are you here? I told Bucky this was a date. Does he really not like me at all?"

You were stumped, opening and closing your mouth like a blank-minded fish, searching for the answer that you didn't have, only coming up empty, "Honestly Phoebe, I have no idea. I'm sure he does like you, maybe he just wanted me to come to..."

"Maybe he just wanted to go on a date with you."

"What?!"

"You heard me. I think I'm the third-wheel here." Her voice went quiet, and you instantly felt bad.

"No, Pheobe. That's absurd, he's my best friend."

"You might want to re-think that."

--

"What did you pick?" Bucky asked, placing the bowl of popcorn in-between you as he sat down and you smiled at him, pushing away the memory.

"Twilight." You replied, sinking back into your seat as you grabbed and handful of popcorn and shovelled it into your mouth.

Bucky nodded as his eyes focused on the screen, his jawline prominent as he chewed, licking his lips of the salty flavouring, a light stubble on his jaw from not shaving in a few days-

"You good?"

You gulped loudly, taking a breath as you met his eyes, embarrassed that you'd been caught staring, "Yup." You said, nodding as you turned to look at the screen again, ignoring his amused chuckle.

Your mind wandered to the conversation you'd had with Natasha only hours ago.

'Don't overthink it, just bring it up when you get the chance, be casual about it'

No overthinking, casual. Easy. Maybe now would be a good time to bring it up, casually, without overthinking anything.

"Actually-" You started, clearing your throat when it immediately closed up and your fight or flight was begging to kick in, your mind instantly wondering to all of the negative repercussions this could-

You were definitely overthinking right now.

"Yes?" Bucky asked, still half watching the movie before he fully turned to face you, sensing that this sounded fairly serious.

Definitely not casual either.

"I wanted to uh, talk to you about something." The temptation to smack yourself on the forehead was growing unbearably stronger by the second, but you imagined that would probably raise some concern. Your hands twitched by your sides instead.

"What is it?"

"Well, it's kind of- I basically, well." You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but sighed instead, just fucking say it, fucking lie to your best friend to find out if he's jealous, "There's this guy."

His eyebrows raised, lips parting, before he quickly snapped his mouth shut and furrowed his eyebrows, taking on a sort of clinical expression as he nodded, motioning for you to continue.

"He's uh... I really- like... him, and... he's..." You took a breath, too many pauses, "different, you know?"

He scrunched his face up, "Different? What does that even mean."

"I don't know I just-" You covered your face with your hands, regretting every decision that had led you to this point. "I really want him to like me."

It was quiet for a moment, and you wanted to peak at him, but couldn't.

Bucky sighed, hands gently taking hold of your wrists to pull your hands away from your face, "Look sweetheart, if he's really a smart guy, he'll already like you. Any person would be lucky to have you, you don't need to change for anyone."

You rolled your eyes at him but smiled nonetheless, "I know Buck, thank you. I just..."  

Don't overthink it.

"I was wondering if maybe, you might give me some advice? I'm seeing him on Monday and I guess I just want to make him want me, you know?"

He paused, still holding onto your wrists, "Want you?"

"Yeah, you know like- I wanna know what guys really like. I want to make sure he'll never forget me. That sort of thing."

"Sweets, I don't know if you should be asking me that. Why don't you just talk to Natasha if it's that important." He said, letting go of your wrists and pulling away.

"Because I want to hear it from a guy, and Steve's far too awkward for this conversation. C'mon Buck, please. I want you to teach me."

"You want me to teach you?" He asked, more than slightly breathless, and you quickly realised that this sounded much less like getting advice for a guy you like and more trying to get info on what Bucky liked sex-wise.

You did not plan for it to go down that route, and you wondered if you should pull it back, change the subject and try this again another time, without getting too explicit, but the way Bucky had almost whispered those words, was driving you insane. You wanted this to go further. "Yeah, I want to give this guy the night of his life."

He clenched his jaw, and tried not to laugh at the situation, almost tempted to text Natasha at that very moment and break the news. 'Jaw has clenched, I repeat, the jaw has clenched'. You managed to keep that temptation under control, still finding the situation slightly humorous before you actually realised what this meant.

Holy fuck, he's jealous.

You knew now was as good a time as any to push further, and with your new-found realisation, came a new-found confidence, the nerves pushed to the back of your mind, the only thing left of them being the fluttering in your chest.

"What do you think I should wear?" You held back a smirk when he leaned forward in his seat, elbows rested on his knees as he dropped his face into his hands. You kept pushing, "Remember that green dress I wore to your birthday last year? Do you think I should wear that one? You'd think he'd like that? Would you like it if it were you?"

"What do you mean if it were me?"

You froze, your cheeks heating up, that heat spreading to your neck as you quickly tried to save yourself whilst keeping this strange relaxed smoothness to your voice. "If you went on a date with Pheobe, and she wore that dress, would you like it?" You asked, before deciding to push it even further. Natasha's voice echoed in your mind 'play with him a little', "Would you think about taking it off her?"

He didn't even hesitate to reply, turning his head to look at you as he continued to sit forward, an almost angered air to his words, "It wouldn't suit her."

"You don't like it? But I thought-"

"Yes, I liked the dress, you looked fucking gorgeous in it. It just would suit her." He urged, the words coming out in one breath, his voice straining over the final word as if it was physically uncomfortable to say, like he held a certain distaste for the word. Her.

You could sense the atmosphere in the room changing, warping with the darker, heavy feeling that radiated off the man you were teasing without him even realising it, and although you knew you should probably stop, that you were getting on his nerves and for some reason this seemed to be a touchy subject, that nagging, red-headed voice was seeping into your thoughts again, telling you to go further, so you continued to push.

"Would he like it do you think?" You asked, tilting your head, keeping that sickly sweet innocent look on your face, he sighed and closed his eyes, his tongue wetting his lips again, teeth biting at the soft skin.

"If he had half a brain he'd fucking love it." He breathed, eyebrows furrowing along the words 'fucking love it' and you knew exactly what he was thinking of, the picture he had in his head.

Your smile faded, watching the way he opened his eyes but kept them trained to his feet. That heat grew in your chest, that weight, that feeling, weaving its way around your heart and seeping into your bloodstream, it carried through your veins, and suddenly you had never felt closer to your teenage self than you did now, like she had pushed the older you aside and taken her place, because she knew this feeling, she was the only version of you to ever fully accept and admit it for what it was, that the reason she blushed so much when her best friend asked her to prom because he'd rather go with you than some random girl he didn't care about, was because you loved him, and of course you still do now, of course you do.

You thought of what Pheobe said that night, you thought of what Natasha was constantly telling you, or that time Steve accidentally slipped that Bucky had a crush on you when you were younger, and you looked at him now, quickly realising that it was never them who warped your idea of Bucky's feelings, it was you.

The feeling had encapsulated your entire being now, the realisation of yours and his feelings and you decided that you had both waited far too long if this is what you wanted.

And you wanted him.

So you continued to play, speaking with a much more serious air this time, you didn't smirk, you just watched him as you spoke.

"I guess that's settled then, I just need to know what to wear under it." You practically whispered it, the warm apartment feeling sweltering now.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself, dropping his head in his hands again, "What are you doing?"

He looked at you from his bent position, almost looking desperate. No, he did look desperate, and you hated and loved it at the same time, for two very different reasons, you understood exactly what he was feeling, having been a victim to his teasing one too many times.

You parted your lips to talk, thinking for a second that you might actually be upsetting him, but then his eyes dropped to watch the movement, staring at your lips as he released a breath.

"I'm asking you for advice, Buck." You said quietly, eyes darkening as you leaned closer, your nose almost touching his and his eyes dropped again, entranced by your lips, "What about kissing?"

His lips parted, eyes darting up to meet yours, but he made no move to go back, in fact, you realised with a feather-light touch of his nose to yours, that he had inched closer to you, "What?"

His eyes were soft as he waited for you to speak, no apprehension to be seen.

"I need to know how to kiss him, how guys like it, you know?" He moved back an inch, that not so subtle disappointment in his eyes, "How do you like to be kissed, Buck?"

He shook his head in a barely there movement, eyes still not leaving yours, swallowing roughly when he caught you looking at his lips.

You moved closer to him, filling that inch that he had put between you, your heart thumping faster in your chest when he did the same, like he was magnetised, he looked at your lips again and you decided to take the chance.

"Like this?" You asked, before filling the gap completely and your pressed your lips to his, kissing him soft and slow, your stomach fluttering when he didn't hesitate to reciprocate, kissing you back the exact way you were guiding him to, but you pulled back before letting it continue for long, his breath fanning out across your lips, you gaze fluttered to his eyes for a moment, "Or like this?"

You kissed him again, this time harder, more urgency in it, your right hand lifting to his shoulder before you slid it to the nape of his neck, a sudden desperate need for his lips on every inch of your skin overcoming your thoughts when his arms wrapped around your waist.

You pulled away again and he tried desperately hard to follow you, eyes opening to voice his frustration when you wouldn't let him.

But you brushed your thumb across his bottom lip, silencing him, "Or maybe like this."

This, this was definitely the one.

You kissed him soft and slow, but this time parted your lips to brush your tongue across his, relishing in the noise that escaped him when you did so, and the way he then did the same to you, parting his lips in a way that breathed hot air into the kiss.

You were so enraptured with the taste of him that you barely even noticed when he pulled you onto his lap, your knees digging into the couch on either side of him. You only realised when his thighs between yours had suddenly stopped your ability to squeeze your thighs together in hopes of relieving that throbbing ache that had formed between them.

This kiss continued much longer than you had planned it to, forgetting what you were going to do next, but you didn't mind much, too caught up in the way his lips were so stupidly soft and his tongue was hot and wet, and his hands were huge and grasping at your clothes with a desperation so similar to the way you pulled his hair.

You pulled away again, much to his dismay as he practically growled and rolled his eyes in frustration. He rested his head back against the couch and licked his kiss swollen lips.

You needed more, barely letting yourself think about the fact that you had just kissed Bucky, The Bucky, Your Bucky.

"What about this, Buck? You like it when a girl does this?" You asked and he frowned, looking up at you in almost annoyed confusion, opening his mouth to speak but then you moved forward on his lap, sitting in a way that your core was pressed against his, his cock twitching in his sweatpants when you rolled those hips of yours, the annoyance and confusion faded and he reached for your hips, eyes fluttering shut when you made the movement again, biting your lip when it stimulated your clit, "Do you think you could come from this, Bucky? Or would you need more? Would you want my hand, or my mouth? Or would you just be begging to fuck me at this point."

He groaned at practically every question, his hands holding your hips as you grinded yourself on him, his cock now achingly hard as his hips started to lift slightly.

"Fuck, sweetheart, what is this? Why are you doing this?" He asked, his voice urgent and needy as he forced himself to stay still under you, gripping your hips tighter to signal for you to stop your movements, much to either of your dismay, "Please tell me this isn't all for some fuckin' guy."

You froze, confused for a second, before realising he still had no idea, and that guilt you had shoved away creeped back in.

Your heart was in your throat as you finally told him the truth, "It is, but he's you Buck. It was always you, it's always been you."

His lips parted, eyes widening slightly at what you had just confessed to him, "I'm the guy you were asking me advice about?"

"Well yeah, who else am I gonna get better advice about what you like from? Better to hear it from the horses mouth, eh?" You smiled sheepishly, shrugging your shoulders as you watched him huff a laugh with a shake of his head.

"Natasha, right?" He asked, raising an eyebrow but you didn't respond, probably looking very guilty of his accusation, "Well, I guess I should tell you that we may have been two-timed by her. She actually gave me the very same advice a few months ago, I just never had the guts to take it as far as you did."

"You talk to Nat about me?" You teased, but he only smiled gently, soft eyes watching you.

"Of course I do, how could I not tell her all about the girl I've been in love with since I was 15." He confessed quietly, blush reddening his cheeks, "God, she must be sick of me talking about you."

You laughed quietly, trying not to settle into the disbelief of it all and instead focus on your excitement, that teenage girl inside of you was screaming with glee and kicking her feet. You didn't let realisation that James Barnes just confessed he'd loved you the whole time you'd loved him be tainted with regret about wasted time.

"She must be sick of us both, I've been doing the same thing ever since I met her."

He smiled at you and you smiled back, pressed your forehead against his.

"What do we do now?" You asked, still very much feeling the physical after-effects of your intense make-out session.

Bucky huffed a laugh, "I'd love to say go to the bedroom, but not yet, I think we should work up to that."

You nodded and smiled, understanding what he meant and feeling thankful he was able to voice it for you, "Agreed."

"We could do this for a while longer though, still got four and a half twilight movies left to go." Bucky joked, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to brush against soft skin.

"Hm, sounds like an excuse to make out with your best friend all night."

"Maybe it is." He whispered back before he kissed you again, using his hand on your back to press you against him.

It felt so natural to the both of you, your bodies fitting together perfectly, no awkwardness or anxiety. You knew you'd both need to talk properly soon, but that could wait a few movies more, for now you could settle with kissing him until you ran out of air.

[biscuitboba]

Hii, do you have some zolu/luzo ff rec??

Hii!!, uhh i have over 100 zolu/luzo fics downloaded YES OF COURSE, i'll try and list down some (many) fics with one chapter only cuz i'm not sure if i can stop recommending if i include multi chaptered fics... (But if you want some rec for the multi chaptered fics just let me know!! Ohh and maybe some ongoing fics?)

This is gonna be a very long post😭🙏

Bleed like an Idiot by Augment [13k words]

Rating: Mature (for mild gore/torture)

Something something about their fear of disappointing/failing each other, the perfect amount of angst, so good

Not that Luffy wouldn’t die for each and every one of his crew, and he knows, though he will make sure it never ever happens, that they would die for him. But to supersede Zoro’s dream like this, that makes Luffy feel so hideously guilty it locks up his lungs, and his jaw, and he can’t speak, touch Zoro, anything.

The salt & the sea by novks (thychesters) [25k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Modern setting, reincarnation au. Zoro being the last person to regain his memories (of his past life) and luffy being lowkey annoyed by it lol

It’s like with Nami, hitting him full force, but it’s so much more than that as the reality of it all comes crashing down around him. Zoro, his (first mate, first friend in this world of pirates, first crew member and first one he swore an oath with), his—he isn’t even sure what to call him. There’s too much but too little to describe him.

Zoro. Zoro, who—no, no, no offense to Nami—should have been first. Zoro, who’s a constant, and he’s practically vibrating with the need to reach and touch him, make sure he’s really real. His tongue darts out to wet his lip as he steps forward, crowding into his personal space and finally grinning because I found you!

Luffy wants to call him an idiot, because it figures he would get lost finding his way home.

But Zoro just blinks at him, flushes, one eye still framed by a familiar scar and says, “Oh, sorry,” and makes it so much worse when he says, “Do I know you?

Of First Mates and Duty by Whatev3rs [14k] 

Rating: General Audiences

Zoro's bad at feelings, but he is trying ok!! 

“First mates… we devote our lives to our captains. Our entire beings. We live for them, breathe for them. And they expect us not to fall in love?” He smiles, small and knowing.

Zoro’s eyes widen and he sputters, trying to muster a response. The man only laughs more.

OR

Being a good first mate was easy enough for Zoro. That is, until the… feelings.

If I Had to Give a Reason by MiniPandaBuns [5k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Tooth-rotting fluff, Zoro and his view of luffy, #feelings, love confession, idiots in loveee

“I wonder what you see in him.”

"Too much." He'd say. "It's endless. All of my reasons can't be condensed into words."

I love him simply because he exists. Because Luffy is Luffy, limitless and free.

Inseparable on the face of Impossibility by the11thhour [25k]

Rating: Not Rated

Luffy is taken by some bad guy, his boyfriend and family (crew) to the rescue! #superworriedzoro:(

A fun trip to a new island takes a turn for the worse when a mysterious group of pirates cause trouble and Luffy goes missing. The crew led by Zoro embark on a mission to get their captain back while his vivre card burns away.

When the Dew Falls Up by louluna [10k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Time travel au, there are two zoros!!

As the bright light enveloped his body, Zoro knew his day had gone to absolute shit.

New year's kiss by grimsoul [4k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Post wano, the title is pretty self explanatory i guess.. fluff, very sweet!! 

Luffy didn’t understand back then but the couple seemed so happy. Kissing someone to strengthen a relationship must have really worked.

It’s been long since that time so Luffy had almost forgotten about it. But then as he sails again now with his crew—the title of an Emperor latched to his name, their journey getting closer and closer to the One Piece, to his dream—a new year approaches them.

Found in the Crack of Your Palm by The_Furthest_City_Light [11k]

Rating: General Audiences

#luffybeingsuperdemisexualatzorofor11k (personally demi luffy is my favorite headcanon of him!)

Zoro’s hands are big, thick and knuckly and covered in calluses from his swords. He has a strong grip, too, and strong muscles because he trains them to be strong.

None of it explains the way Luffy’s body lights up when Zoro clasps the back of his neck, like every nerve is alight and trained on the palm cupping the baby hairs at the back of his skull. His stomach knots over itself and he wants to eat everything in Sanji’s kitchen. Zoro’s skin is a little rough and sweaty from fighting and warm.

Zoro is close, his forehead nearly butting Luffy’s and Luffy couldn’t move if he wanted to, trapped there by the closeness and the touch that makes him aware of Zoro’s skin against his in a way he’s never been before.

Zoro’s eyes bore into his, digging deep into Luffy and dragging out—something, buried in the base of his spine. He feels like the earth is tilting, and freefall seems like it might be fun.

the moon asks a question by d_s_writes [1k]

Rating: General Audiences

A very short fic, but can't stop thinking about the rest of strawhats and their idea of love vs luffy's, like- he really gagged me here😭

Zoro doesn’t understand—how can he feel all the things that the others had spoken of, yet none of it the same time? He felt that each of their versions of love were merely motions of love, rather than love itself.

He doesn’t get it. Love has never been a word, or a sense of belonging, or any of those things. He had only ever really thought of love when he looked at Luffy.

OR: An investigation of the lives and loves of the Strawhat Pirates.

Robin knows by leopardgeckoz [3k]

Rating: General Audiences

Oh moment for both zoro and luffy but especially for the oblivious captain

In which Nico Robin has always known how her captain and first mate feel for one another, and the scenario's in which the rest of the crew discover it.

Alternatively

"Every passing hour of Luffy's silence drove Zoro further and further into madness. He wanted Luffy's smile, his laugh, his chatter, but his captain had spent the better part of the day on the complete opposite sides of the ship as Zoro. Out of sight, but most certainly not out of mind. If anything, his absence plagued Zoro's even more."

step 1: die by swordsmans [11k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Roronoa zoro and his unstoppable self  destru sacrificing tendency for his one and only captain (featuring sanji!)

After two years with Ivankov, Sanji knows something about Luffy that Zoro does not.

ship to wreck by novks (thychesters) [9k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Zoro and luffy but from nami's perspective?? Mutual pinning and luffy's oh moment

Nami is the first one to notice something is amiss, but then given her current competition is Luffy and Zoro, it isn’t surprising.

“Do you love Zoro?” She doesn’t bother beating around the bush. Doesn’t bother with easing into it with any metaphors or small talk, one of which Luffy would have little interest in, and the other of which would go over his head.

He stares back at her, and for a split second she feels like she’s gone and shoved her foot right into her mouth. Something flickers through his eyes, but she doesn’t have time to fully study it before his features shutter again.

Luffy tilts his head. “Of course I do.”

Part of her wants to cheer, shout aha! because she knew it, dammit, but then he proceeds to barrel right over that.

“I love you too,” to which she freezes, and then: “And Usopp, and Sanji, I guess. You guys are my friends.”

She wants to scream.

But Patience Boasts by Augment [9k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Ughh i love the way this fic portray zoro and sanji's dynamic… anyways, lowkey wingman sanji!

Sanji and Zoro have very different love languages.

Kizuna by YokoHogawa [5k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

#nakamaship, basically 

Usopp carefully watches Luffy over the sandwich he is biting into, and he can’t help but worry.

Sanji has an anxiety problem.

Something wakes Zoro at the crack of dawn.

Half a step (into the sun) by TheOctopusofWriting [29k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Demon prince zoro, that's it, that's the point.

Zoro was the exiled prince of an island of demons. He spent the first portion of his life wandering from island to island without any place to really call home, that is until he follows a boy in a strawhat out to sea and finds the home he'd been looking for

to cut your teeth on love by freckledshoulderblades [10k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Smth smth the bond between captain and first mate...

Zoro meets Luffy and gives himself over wholeheartedly the instant Wadō is placed between his teeth again. Luffy meets Zoro and decides in a heartbeat that Zoro is his

Take Me Out to Sea by MiniPandaBuns [3k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audience

Just them being all sweet and wholesome<3

Luffy and Zoro take a pleasant little swim together, despite the fact that Luffy can't swim and Zoro told him no. Many times.

He just can't refuse his Captain. Even if he does, Luffy still wins, because he's just Luffy and that's how it goes.

everybody wants your time by dwaal [3k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Uhh abo au, omega zoro and alpha luffy, jealousy, bonded mates, making out, y knoww~

An unclaimed omega on the seas can be a liability. It's commonplace for captains to bite any of their crew to prevent any incidents, but the marks are usually temporary.

Zoro is intensely aware of this, as Boa Hancock proceeds to make herself at home on the arm of his captain's chair

it's an ambush! by tuhituhi [3k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Zoro meeting his bf's brothers for the first time!

Luffy's middle name should be B. for Blindside the way he's constantly taking Zoro off guard. Or maybe the D. stood for Devious, or Devil- any of them would fit, considering the Situations this man has put him through. OR

Zoro meets Luffy's brothers. Was he expecting this? Technically. Was he prepared for this?

Not in the slightest

end of summer (now i know) by taka0 [2k]

Rating: Mature

Just luffy being very sappy (and a tiny bit horny) about his zoro<3

Luffy loves all of Zoro while they lie in a hammock.

Ocean theology by swordsmans [40k]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Reincarnation au, yearning and devotion, symbolism-

“Zoro—”

“Did you know?” he repeats, desperate, and Luffy just looks at him. And he wonders, then, how much of this has been preordained—how much of this is real, how much of this is him. How much of what he’s felt since they were wedged side-to-side in a shitty wooden boat on the East Blue has actually mattered, and how much has been the universe pressing him down into the mold of someone else's heart.

And then Luffy is gripping his horns, bringing his forehead down to meet his, repeating, “Zoro? Zoro?” like his name is a mantra, like he’s gone somewhere far away and gotten lost on his way back.

And Zoro blinks at him, then, and sees both of them at once—both of them—and he grips Luffy’s face in his own hands (claws) and presses his lips (violent, full of teeth) against his. Because this is who he has been waiting a thousand years for, the brightest and most beautiful of them all, the one thing he could never have—could never see, not if (Luffy, Joyboy, Nika) had made different (worse) choices—the thing that could never thrive in the darkness, just like he could never (has been unable to for centuries) survive without it—

let thy sword be thy tongue by queerweather [14k]

Rating: Mature

Sword language, sword personification, swords- zoro not being so normal about his captain, whats new?

It’s strangely exhilarating, imagining himself on his knees in front of Luffy, blindfolded. Like he really is getting executed this time. All of Zoro’s senses stand at attention and his mouth fills with saliva.

The flat of Kitetsu’s blade presses cold against Zoro’s cheek. “Zoro,” Luffy scolds. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

.

.

.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and Zoro is not afraid of Luffy handling his swords; Zoro is afraid of how Luffy handling his swords might unravel him.

The only animal by batman [10k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content)

 It's about roronoa zoro and how he pines for his captain

It wasn't until Kuraigana that he realised how the world had split into two kinds of touch: swords and hands.

Luffy's hands.

(In a stolen week between islands, Luffy touches Zoro again.)

Sunward bound by iffervescent [13k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top zoro)

Ace luffy & sex positive luffy!!

Zoro's a pirate bounty hunter, which means he's used to going after the pirate he wants and getting them. Except this time the pirate he wants is his captain and now he has no fucking clue what to do.

Expressions by Leoporidae_Lagomorpha [2k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)

Them being disgustingly in love whats new?, sexy times (plot what plot) 

Monkey D. Luffy knows, that despite popular opinion, Roronoa Zoro is a man of many expressions.

hanabi | 花火 by narramin [8k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy)

Just the captain and his first mate being silly while enjoying their date in wano (eventual smut)

firework /ˈfʌɪəwəːk/

noun

plural noun: fireworks

• a device containing gunpowder and other combustible chemicals which causes spectacular effects and explosions when ignited, used for display or in celebrations.

• a display of great skill or energy.

Luffy and Zoro finally reunite in Wano, visit a gambling den and go on a less than traditional festival date night.

a tale of two gods by grimsoul [6k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top zoro, implied switching)

Sun of God x God of death. a fiery tryst between two gods

“Ne, Zoro, come with me,” Luffy said, giggling, pulling him closer. “You’re going to be a part of my court.”

Contrary to what most people believed, hell was a rather cold place. Zoro had been quite used to it, the lack of light, the vast glaciers, his body no longer as fragile as it was eons ago, and so a simple touch like this from Luffy, from the sun, made him feel like his flesh was scorched—melting away easily like winter in summer’s heat.

They were close, so close that their foreheads were almost touching, and despite the burn of it, Zoro didn’t push him away. He smirked, his one eye glowing just as red as Luffy’s.

“Don’t decide something on your own, idiot.”

running just to keep my hands on you by nevermordor [6k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, switching)

They are so competitive in pretty much everything lol

The thing they do is kind of like a game, because Luffy likes games, but it’s also kind of a competition because Zoro can’t not turn anything and everything into a competition. It doesn’t have a name and there are only two rules, because more than two would just be making things boring and overcomplicated.

1. Whoever takes out the most guys in a fight is the winner

2. Whoever is the loser has to do whatever the winner says

“Why’s it gotta be a whole game and stuff," Luffy says. "That’s gonna take too long.”

“It makes sex more fun," Zoro explains. "You gotta win it, you gotta earn it. Like anything good in life. Like pirate king or greatest swordsman.”

Luffy considers this.

One on one by EclecticIsMyMiddleName [6k]

Rating: Explicit (sexual content, top luffy) 

Post canon, domestic married luffy and zoro my beloved… they are so in love?? It's sickening

Zoro's just trying to get ready for the day, but Luffy has other plans

Prayers Carried on Waves Reach the Sun by anarchycox [8k]

Rating: Mature (sexual content, switching)

Sun god luffy & demon zoro ftw

Luffy is the sun god, Nika. Zoro is a demon. And his boyfriend. They make it work. On earth the Thousand Sunny is the ship of worship for the sun god, the crew Nika's priests. When they call for help, Luffy and Zoro go to their aid.

Luffy decides they should stay a while, and Zoro loves him enough to do so.

Being human is a pain and stupid, but for his Luffy, he'll endure it.

Ok i need to stop here cuz it's getting way too longgg, but i'm just so ill about the two of them sorry not sorry😭😭

[eff4freddie]

After She Left | Nine

Words: 5k

Joel leaves Shauna to race to the mess hall, trying to prevent an attack that will obliterate half of Jackson. You keep Ellie safe while Joel is out for blood. Tommy has his suspicions.

Chapter warnings: Angst, again. Slow burn. Joel continues to be bad at feelings.

A/N: Thank you again for your support of this series. It's putting the slow in slow burn, but these two idiots just refuse to give any ground. Joel is starting to soften, slowly, but will Teach let him in?

Eight | Series Masterlist | Ten

Joel’s legs were moving almost completely without volition. He didn’t even hesitate, taking off towards the mess hall screaming, bellowing, over his shoulder for Shauna to run to Tommy and tell him. There wasn’t any time, there wasn’t any knowing how much time there was, but there were families in that mess hall, there were some of the town’s best men and women and their children and he was going to make damn fuckin’ sure not you. Not Ellie. Not you.

He could feel his breath coming in hard and sharp, the comparatively warm night air doing absolutely nothing to stop his lungs feeling as though they were shredding right there in his chest. He was stumbling, must have looked completely mad, as he ran to the centre of town. Shauna had said the gas line ran over the street. In rebuilding Jackson with next to no equipment they wouldn’t have been able to pull up the concrete to bury it, not with the little tools they’d had. It would have made sense to install all the services above ground without a digger to get them under, but now they were just exposed. Jackson had been built on a fuckin’ fuse and he’d stood at the gates while the guys with the match marched right past him.

Jesus, he’d failed. Again, he had failed. If that mess hall went up before he got there he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to live with himself, knew in his heart he would have to take himself off to a mountain somewhere and let the elements have their way with him. Walk into a horde of clickers. It would be fair and it would be just in this lawless, gnashing world.

Breath coming in too fast to catch it, pulse too hard to hear anything else he rounded onto the main street, bellowing at the top of his lungs to clear the area, waving with his hands over his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Tommy running from the other direction, his eyes wild, raising his own hands over his head and bellowing a warning when he saw what Joel was doing. A few other men appeared on Joel’s periphery, confused but on alert regardless, and he screamed to them as he ran past ‘MESS HALL. GONNA GO UP. GET ‘EM OUT. GET ‘EM ALL OUT.’

He was dimly aware of people staring at him, gaping at him as he streamed past. He yelled in their faces to get clear, having to restrain himself from physically pushing them out of the way as he wrenched open the door to the mess hall just as Tommy appeared at the bottom of the steps.

It was all just pure instinct. He’d never been a fire warden, had done safety training for the job sites more than twenty years ago. Didn’t need instructions or a manual, just stood in the doorway as the hall fell silent around him, cupped his hands over his mouth and screamed ‘OUT OUT OUT’.

Tommy pulled him aside, gesturing people to the door now that Joel wasn’t obstructing it anymore, and later when Joel had the wherewithal he’d curse himself for being so stupid as to block the only exit he was screaming at people to use.

The place emptied in minutes. Town Council had a thing about practicing drills: clickers, raiders, fires and floods. Being the only safe haven at the end of the world a fair amount of effort went into preparing for disaster, and everyone was assembled at the muster point by the gate within minutes. Maria was busy doing her headcount.

Out the front of the mess hall Tommy held Joel by his trembling shoulder as he relayed to his younger brother everything that Shauna had said. Tommy sent a bunch of men under the floor to check the foundations, ran his own eye up the gas line because he didn’t trust any of the men, got Joel to do it too when he was done shaking. Whatever Steve and Wren had been planning they hadn’t pulled it off yet. There was still time. Joel felt himself exhale for the first time in an hour.

Over Tommy’s shoulder he saw the townsfolk of Jackson lined up along the street at a safe distance. Moms holding their babies to their chests, husbands with their arms over their wives’ shoulders. He saw you in the crowd, your hand held fast in Ellie’s, and he felt something settle in his chest as his girls watched him work. His girls.

Not his girls.

But in that first moment, before his legs had taken him in the direction of the mess hall, he’d fought a traitorous urge to turn around, head back to your place, pack you and Ellie up in blankets and hunker down with you in your bedroom, let the whole fuckin’ place burn to the ground around him so long as he had you both safe.

He blinked. There was fury bubbling in his belly, he could feel the fire rising up his sternum as he tried to swallow it down.

‘Where they at, Tommy?’ he grunted, his brother having already been anticipating that this would be Joel’s next move, once he was confident the town was safe.

‘Sent Guillaume and a few of the boys to round ‘em up,’ Tommy said, hoping this would be enough for Joel and knowing it wouldn’t be.

‘Gollum?’ Joel said, almost spitting the name in disdain. ‘That fuckhead’s the reason we in this mess. I bet you my life they were the ones skulkin’ around out there that time I saw the tracks, I bet you anythin’ they been planning this for months and I fuckin’ told Golllum…’

‘Ok, easy, easy,’ Tommy said, raising his hands, watching the heat blooming on his brother’s neck. ‘I know, Joel, but we got a proper process.’

Joel scoffed, rolling his eyes, clenching his fists. He was spitting acid now, the left-over adrenaline mixing with bile and misery. ‘We’re a civilisation, Joel,’ Tommy said, almost pleading with him to see some kind of reason. ‘That means we gotta be civil.’

‘I’ll be real civil with ‘em, brother,’ Joel said, his voice low and heavy and full of venom. ‘F’they behave themselves I might even make it quick.’

‘Joel, enough,’ Tommy said. ‘This ain’t…this is for Town Council-’

‘The HELL IT IS’ Joel bellowed, the people still milling around on the street flinching and glancing back at him. He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze.

‘You can’t cut me outta this, Tommy,’ he said, his turn to plead. ‘S’my family they messin’ with.’

‘All our families they messed with, Joel,’ Tommy said.

‘What you think they been doin’ to Shauna all this time?’ Joel said, and Tommy blanched a little. There wasn’t any evidence, Shauna had always implied more or less that she’d agreed to whatever it was they got up to on the side of cold mountains, but Joel knew how to push Tommy’s buttons, having spent the better half of his little brother’s youth installing them himself.

There was a shout over the hill leading down to the stables, a cry and a string of insults that, even though neither Tommy or Joel could make out the words, were nevertheless unkind.

Tommy pulled on Joel’s arm to try and hold him back, but Joel was already streaming over to the sound, his longer legs striding strong despite his older years, his eyes narrowing. Tommy knew this look. It was the look Joel got when he was ready to do anything to defend what was his. He stumbled after his brother, motioning for Maria in the hope that her cooler head might prevail.

Joel could see Wren being held between two of Guillaume’s men, his shoulder bent at what appeared to be a truly uncomfortable angle.

‘They’ve dislocated my shoulder!’ Wren screamed, looking a little green, Joel thought.

‘That’s the last of your worries,’ Tommy said, catching up to Joel and a little out of breath. ‘Wanna tell us about the mess hall?’

‘What about the mess hall?’ Wren asked, and Joel was ready, in that moment, to rip his dislocated shoulder clean from the rest of his body.

‘You fuckin’ sick piece of shit, going to blow it all up with all those kids in there, all those women. People’s fuckin’ families?’ Joel was aware he was spitting, that his face was red, that he was forcing his finger into Wren’s face, but the shock was wearing off now, and pure blind rage was seeping in where it had left, and he couldn’t stop thinking about pulling Ellie’s charred little body out of the wreckage, trying to figure if it was her by her shoes and her proximity to you.

He was going to vomit if he didn’t stop thinking about it. He steeled himself, let the world spin around his head for a moment longer before he pulled it all back into focus by sheer force of will.

‘You and Steve, you sick fucks, been planning this the whole time? When we fed and clothed ya, gave you fuckin’ jobs!’

‘Joel, easy,’ Tommy said, because he could see that Wren was near tears, that the younger man looked dumbfounded, and that dealing with 200 pounds of Miller in the form of a man-sized fist wasn’t going to get them to a resolution.

‘What are you…’ Wren was asking, but then there were more footsteps, and Steve was being dragged along the street to join the party by another of the patrol, and this time Shauna was trailing behind him, eyes wet and hands wringing in front of her. She moved straight to Maria, who wrapped her up in her arms.

‘Just fuckin’ confess to it so we can get down to the punishment,’ Joel was saying, even as Tommy was trying to pull him back so that the Council could form a proper impromptu trial.

‘We didn’t do fuckin’ nothing,’ Steve said, because he was quicker on the uptake it seemed. ‘Whatever she’s said to you it’s fucking bullshit.’

Joel looked at Shauna, who was starting to sob.

‘They said if I said anything they’d kill me,’ she said, eyes on the ground as Maria practically held her up. ‘They said I had to do it, I had to get the plans, I’m so sorry,’ she said.

Wren was shaking his head at her, panic on his features, but Joel was too far gone to notice or care, too interested instead in punching his features through to the other side of his skull.

‘But I couldn’t let them hurt the kids,’ she stuttered, turning her eyes to Joel now, who held her in his gaze. He could feel some of the fury ebbing away at the sight of her so distraught. Could feel a kind of inevitability settling in over his bones, a sadness and an understanding of what had to be done.

‘You fuckin’ lying whore!’ Steve screamed at her, his neck straining from the force of it. Shauna shuddered and took a step back and Joel found himself moving over to her, taking the other side from Maria to help hold her up, as Shauna transferred to his shoulder and buried her face into his neck.

‘You don’t talk about the women of Jackson that way,’ Tommy was saying as Maria nodded her head. Robert, who had been watching the proceedings and taking it all in, pulled Tommy, Maria and a few of the other Councillors aside.

In the silence, Shauna continued to whimper, reaching up to hold firm to the front of Joel’s shirt. He could feel his heartbeat settling, could feel the ache as he breathed over scorched lungs. ‘I’m so scared, Joel,’ Shauna whispered to him, and he rested his chin on the top of her head.

‘I know, I gotcha,’ he said, as he wrapped both arms around her shivering form. He cast a glance at Wren, who was staring at the ground unable to move with his shoulder sustaining what Joel now saw was likely a bad break, and then at Steve, who was watching Shauna with a cold intensity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

‘Get your fuckin’ eyes off her,’ he hissed, and Steve, instead, raised his eyes to him.

He started to shake his head, slowly. ‘You cunt-struck fool,’ he said to Joel, almost with pity. If he hadn’t been holding Shauna up, Joel would have knocked him out then and there.

Robert cleared his throat, the conference apparently over.

‘For conspiring against the town of Jackson and its citizens, you are banished,’ he said, simply and quickly. Efficient and without fanfare.

‘That’s it?’ Joel said, sputtering. ‘They could still get back in here, the fuckers know the place like the back of their hands. They’ve got plans.’

Shauna whimpered again a little in his arms. No thanks to you, Joel thought, and then felt bad about it.

Robert continued to address the men. ‘Tomorrow morning you will be taken on horseback to a destination two and a half hours ride from here. You will be dropped off with no supplies or weapons. You will not return. Should you attempt to darken our gates again you will be shot on sight. Do you understand?’

‘Just shoot us now, you fuckin’ cowards,’ Steve said, the fight receding from him so that now he was just sort of swaying in the arms of the men. ‘Don’t just let a clicker do it.’

‘The Town Council’s decision is final. You will be placed in remand until the morning. We will ride out at dawn.’

Robert nodded to his councillors and to Joel and strode off. Joel was angry but he had to admire Robert’s composure. He considered, not for the first time, that Robert was exactly the man for the job he held.

Guillaume and his men dragged Steve and Wren away. Wren was gently weeping, his legs not working so well anymore now that he was almost bent double from the pain. Shauna didn’t lift her head from Joel’s chest to watch them go. She stayed, practically glued to his hip, until Joel had no other choice but to take her home.

--

You’d seen the look on Joel’s face, had ushered Ellie under your arm and away from the crowd before she had to see him rip those two men apart with his teeth. He was furious, like an adder poised to strike, while Tommy stood beside him and tried to keep a level head. Rumours were already swirling about what had happened at the mess hall by the time you turned up your street with Ellie behind you, and you blocked them out. The truth would become apparent whether you got caught up in the eddying flow of it.

Your main concern was just Ellie. You did the only thing you could think to do with a stressed-out teenager in your house: you fed her. Standing at the bench with her peeling potatoes the two of you discussed absolutely nothing at all – what air conditioning used to feel like, how loud planes were in the sky, what it was like to go to the mall and spend the whole afternoon just looking at clothes – knowing that Joel would come for her.

After a long silence, while you lay the potato slices down in a pan and poured cheese over the top to bake, Ellie finally spoke.

‘Was he a bad man?’ she asked you, and you sighed.

‘I don’t know, I didn’t know him all that well.’

Ellie looked at you sharply, surprise on her features.

‘What do you mean? You’ve spent nearly every day with us.’

You felt the thud of realisation in your chest. Joel. Was Joel a bad man.

‘Ellie, why do you ask that?’ you questioned, but she turned away from you, her shoulders rounding over. You watched as she tugged on her long sleeves, even in the heat of the kitchen.

‘He gets that look…’ she said, and you found yourself nodding.

‘He would never hurt you, or people he cared about. That looked to me like a man fighting to keep his family safe.’

‘Which family?’ she asked. You put the tray gently on the bench, to take a moment, to steady yourself.

‘Ellie…’ you started, but there was the sound of the front door opening, and heavy footfalls in the hall. Ellie was already moving towards him.

‘Ellie!’ he was calling, booming into the quiet of your house.

‘In here!’ she called back, and they met in the doorway, nearly toppling over with the force in which they collided into each other, Joel holding her fast to his chest.

‘Are you alright? Are you hurt?’ he was saying, and she was shaking her head. He pulled her away from him, cradling her head in both of his hands as he studied her, from her scalp to her toes. ‘Nothin’? Nothin’?’ he asked again, and she stilled in his hands.

‘What was that, Joel?’ she asked, and you watched as his eyes slid closed, pulling her into his body again.

‘Nothin’ babygirl, it was nothin’.’ He muttered.

You swallowed harshly, something thick and hot in your throat suddenly making it hard to breathe. He finally noticed you, his brown eyes snapping to yours as you watched him cradle his daughter.

‘You alright?’ he asked you, genuine concern written over his face.

You nodded. ‘We did just fine,’ you said, quietly, but he shook his head in response.

‘No, you,’ he clarified. You weren’t sure if you were alright, actually. Weren’t sure if you could instruct every cell in your body to stop screaming for him to reach out for you, grasp your wrist so gentle in his hand and pull you into his chest to stand by Ellie, your nose tucked in under his jaw and feeling the heat of his pulse there on your skin.

You exhaled, slowly, steeled yourself. It hadn’t been anything, and it wouldn’t be. You nodded your head at him, not trusting your own voice under the strain of the moment.

He seemed satisfied, his eyes gently closing again as Ellie wriggled out from under his arms, straightening her shirt and wiping her eyes with her sleeve, trying to hide it by turning away from you both.

‘What’s gonna happen to them?’ she asked, and he sighed.

‘They’re gettin’ kicked out,’ he said, and you watched the anger bloom over her face.

‘That’s it?’ she asked, her voice rising as she worked herself up. ‘That’s bullshit! They nearly killed like 50 people!’

‘Easy,’ Joel said, raising his hands. You watched as his brows saddled.

‘Ellie, come help me set the table,’ you said, trying to divert her. She was still caught up in the indignation of it, though, like all teenagers when faced with an injustice.

‘That’s crap though, they shouldn’t be allowed to live!’

It jarred you for a second, a teenager calling for the death penalty, and you wondered for the first time in a while what the world had become. Such that it was, such that it would ever be again.

‘Enough,’ Joel said, quiet but deadly, and Ellie jutted out her lower lip, but stopped. You could see a well-worn dynamic playing out in front of you. You felt out of place in the middle of it.

‘We oughta get goin’,’ he said to her, and he looked exhausted all of a sudden, far older than his years.

‘We made dinner,’ Ellie said, angry and pouty still.

‘I won’t eat all this, I can bring some around,’ you offered, and realised you had already betrayed her, that you were supposed to campaign for them to stay. You faltered, looking between her and Joel. Did you want them to stay? Was it a good idea? To even offer? ‘Unless you…’

‘We’ve imposed enough on Teach tonight,’ Joel said, not looking at you, and you felt the sting of the rejection even though you had been expecting it, had been reminding yourself not to hope for any different.

Ellie stomped down the hall, and you heard your door swing open so hard you wouldn’t have been surprised if she wrenched it free. Joel looked at his feet, his eyes only ever flitting in your direction, his face pink.

‘You doin’ alright?’ he asked.

‘Nothing for you to feel guilty about, Joel,’ you said, quickly, and he sighed. You watched him flex his fingers once, twice, on his left hand. He pulled it up to his chest and rested it over his heart.

‘-nk you for still seein’ her,’ he said, and you shrugged.

‘I care about her, Joel. More than I care about you. Or me.’

He nodded. He knew it was true, he had always known it, and he knew he had used it against you when it suited him, when it meant he could wonder closer to you, when he could feel the heat of you gentle on his skin.

‘M’sorry…’ he started, but Ellie was calling for him from the front porch.

‘We goin’ old man OR WHAT?’ she yelled. You hid a little smirk, which Joel returned. Suddenly you were both shy, but some of the weight had shifted. You stood firmer on your two feet.

‘G’bye Joel,’ you said. ‘I can bring some of this around if you need me to…’

‘Shauna’s cookin’,’ he said, without thinking, and then suddenly thinking too much when he looked up and saw the look of shock pass over your face.

‘Oh…’ you said.

‘She ain’t good at it…’ he tried, to see if he could get the lightness back, to see if he could get you to smile. He could get through it if he just got you to smile.

You felt yourself falter. You hated it, hated the feeling and yourself for letting yourself feel it, for putting yourself in the position to.

Joel stared at you, helpless and deflating. The back of his neck ached from tension, his hands still tremoring from the adrenaline, from the fury.

‘Y’know you’re welcome over anytime,’ he said, because you were suddenly so still, your breath so light he could barely see your chest rise and fall, and he hated the idea of you over here alone, hated the idea of you missing your family, your friends, Ellie and maybe even him a little bit, if he still deserved it. He coughed, clearing his throat, trying hard to ignore the sound of Ellie pacing on your front porch. ‘I know I don’t deserve any more of your time, and I ain’t askin’ for it, I just…’

You watched as he seemed unable to decide what to do with his hands, digging them into his pockets, pulling them out again to rest on his hips, crossing them over his chest. You watched his hands because it was easier than looking at his face, easier than having to look him in the eyes while he actively, outwardly pitied you.

‘You know I had a life here before you got here, Joel,’ you said, your voice clear and unwavering. ‘You know I was here a long while before you? Don’t look at me some lost little puppy now that you’ve decided not to play with me anymore. I have a job and…friends and…enough memories of a family that loved me to fuel me ‘til my last sunset. I miss them and I love them but I’m not sad, Joel.’

You lifted the pan of potatoes and slammed them, a little more forcefully than you intended, into the oven. ‘Go home to Shauna, whatever she’s cooked up for you. You do what you need to do, Joel.’

He cared about you, he knew it then by the way he wanted to wrap you in his arms and kiss you until dawn even while you told him off. By the way he would let you yell at him every minute for the rest of his days if it just meant you were talking to him, if it meant you got firey and animated and more yourself.

He knew you were shooing him away. And he would go, in just a minute. ‘I ain’t sorry for it,’ he said, when you looked like you might have been ready to listen. ‘M’sorry for how I treated ya, for how I reacted when…everything changed. But I ain’t sorry for kissin’ ya, and I ain’t sorry for that…’ he gestured to the couch over his shoulder, and you resolutely didn’t look where he was pointing. ‘I’d do that every day of the week, sweet girl, if it weren’t for how things are…and if I thought for any second y’might let me.’

He came forward and you stood, hypnotised, unable to step back even as he lifted his hands and cradled your head in them, just as he had minutes ago with Ellie, just as you had wished, quietly, and only so that Rose could hear, that he would hold you the same.

‘I regret nothin’ about you, only how I handled it, and for that I’ll be sorry for the rest of my time.’ He stared into your eyes, not wavering until he could see that you had understood, that you had heard him. You felt tears threatening, and you were so fucking sick of crying over this man, but right then you wanted him to kiss you even though you knew, for all the heat of his gaze, he was really saying he never would again.

‘Enough now…’ you said, taking his hands from your face and settling them back down at his sides. He nodded.

‘I know, baby,’ he said, quiet as he leant forward anyway and rested his forehead on yours. ‘Enough,’ he agreed, his words mingling with the hot tears on your cheeks.

--

Joel stood next to Robert, Tommy and Billy at the gate. He watched, closely, as Steve and Wren were dragged into their saddles, their arms still tied behind their backs. Wren had gone eerily quiet, apparently having passed out in the night from the pain, and he looked sweaty and pale now. Joel knew that sending him beyond the gates in this state was a death sentence, but he was finding it hard to care. His mind kept turning time back to the moment Shauna’s words hit him – mess hall, gas line – and the way he had immediately thought of Ellie, and of you. He would kill these two men a thousand times over if it meant he never had to feel that again. He was getting too old for it. He couldn’t bear a new way to fail his girls.

Not his girls.

Shauna had stayed, tucked up in his bed while Joel offered to take the couch, and he rubbed at the crick in his neck now as a result. There wasn’t fanfare, just the creak of the opening gates as Guillaume and his men rounded on them.

‘Follow the river, two-three hours West, there’s some mountain ranges, some rapids. They won’t get back,’ Billy instructed, and Guillaume nodded. Steve glared at Joel from the saddle. He stared, impassively, back.

‘Town’s a shithole anyway,’ Steve said, and Joel grinned at him.

‘Yeah, but this shithole still ain’t yours,’ he replied, because he couldn’t help himself.

The horses took off, Billy pulling the gate closed behind them. Joel stood watch until the sound of the hooves ebbed away.

Robert tipped his hat to the brothers. Tommy turned back towards the stables, and Joel followed on his heels.

‘Thank God that’s over,’ Joel said, and Tommy clicked his jaw a little. ‘What?’ he asked.

‘Don’t feel right,’ Tommy said, without elaborating. Joel felt the urge to roll his eyes, his emerging need to believe it was dealt with for a moment overpowering him, before he remembered Tommy had never dismissed him even when he came, panic stricken, believing there to be monsters beyond the gate.

‘Tell me,’ he said, and Tommy sighed.

‘The look on Wren’s face…’ Tommy started, and Joel interrupted almost immediately.

‘They were guilty as sin, course he looked…’

‘Were they, Joel? We didn’t exactly investigate. He looked…surprised? I don’t know, confused?’

‘He thought he’d done such a good job of stitchin’ up Shauna he never figured she’d tell…’ Joel reasoned. ‘He was surprised because she said somethin���, is all.’

‘He seem like the scheming sort, Joel? The kind of fuckin…mastermind…’

Joel thought back to Wren, the way he was quiet and liked tending the animals, the way he was kind of reedy, kind of skinny, in a way that was more than just about starving half to death on the side of a mountain and somewhat genetic, somewhat constitutional.

‘Steve, though…’

‘Yeah, Steve,’ Tommy agreed.

‘Nasty fucker.’

‘Mmm.’

The two brothers fell into step, and then into silence.

‘Don’t see why she’d throw ‘em under the bus, she ain’t like that.’ Joel said, answering his brother’s unspoken question.

Tommy looked up at his big brother, at the way Joel’s eyes were narrow, resolute, in the early morning light.

‘You’re probably right, it was just the heat of the moment, I guess,’ Tommy said. ‘So much happenin’ at once.’

Joel nodded at him, satisfied. They arrived at the stables, Tommy reaching for a pitchfork and handing it, without ceremony, to Joel.

‘Whatchu doin’ with that, brother?’ Joel asked, refusing to take what was offered to him.

‘Muck out,’ Tommy said, nodding at the stable floor. Joel backed away, his hands in the air.

‘No, sir, that ain’t my job.’

‘Ain’t mine either but we got our best men out there right now, who else is gonna do it?’

Wren would have done it, Joel thought. Wren probably had been doing it, quietly, for weeks.

‘C’mon big man, you ain’t afraid of dirt,’ Tommy said, goading his brother with the absolute certainty that it would work.

‘Ain’t the dirt I’m worried about,’ he said, but he was grinning now, and Tommy was grinning back at him. He reached over and took the pitchfork.

It had been a while since he’d done this kind of honest, grunt work, Joel thought. There was a kind of poetry in it. Maybe all this time things were just leading to the eventual inevitability that he would have to shovel shit.

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[moon-lit-petal]

Believe Me

Neville Longbottom x Fem!Beauxbatons!Reader

Summary: 5 times Dean and Seamus don't believe Neville and the time He proved them wrong.

Warning: not proof read, possibly not so nice friends, Neville being totally in love.

Word Count: 5k

Notes: this takes place when they are much older, I'd like to think that moldy V doesn't exist and the triwizard tournament happens much later in their hogwarts career :) I tried to keep it as ambiguous

----------

The Gryffindor common room was a cozy haven, illuminated by the flickering flames of the fireplace that cast warm shadows on the maroon and gold walls. A rowdy bunch of Gryffindors lounged comfortably on the oversized sofas, laughter and chatter filling the air as they reminisced about their latest escapades at Hogwarts.

"Honestly," Ron said, a frown spreading across his face, "I don’t know what’s worse—having a crush or trying to figure out what to say when you actually talk to them!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Tell me about it. I thought I was doing well with Cho until I accidentally called her 'Hermione' in the middle of a conversation!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, a playful smirk on her lips. "That’s not going to help your case, Harry."

The boys erupted into laughter, the sound bouncing off the stone walls. Dean leaned back, his arms behind his head, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I can’t even get a proper conversation going. It’s like every time I try to flirt, I end up sounding like a complete idiot."

Seamus snickered. "Remember when you tried to impress that girl from Slytherin with your 'amazing' Quidditch skills? You barely made it through the first sentence!"

"That was one time!" Dean retorted, though he couldn’t suppress a sheepish grin.

Just then, Neville spoke up with hesitant confidence.

"I mean, dating isn't that hard when you're with the right person."

The room fell silent, a few eyebrows raised in curiosity. Ron snorted, breaking the stillness. "No offense, Neville, but what do you know about dating? You've never had a girlfriend before, right?"

With a half-hearted shrug and a giddy smile, he looks at his friends. “Well actually, I've been dating this girl for a little while now.”

"Wait, who is she?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

"She’s from Beauxbatons!" Neville said, his voice gaining confidence. "Her name is Y/N. She’s really nice, we met over the summer when she was visiting some family”"

Seamus squinted skeptically. "A Beauxbatons girl? Come on, Neville, that sounds a bit too good to be true."

Hermione frowned, clearly disapproving of the boys’ reactions. "Guys, come on you shouldn't just dismiss him, I'm sure she's a nice girl Neville." She gave him a small smile, Neville could tell she too, didn't believe him

Ginny crossed her arms and chimed in. "Exactly. Just because you lot can’t seem to get dates doesn’t mean you should tear him down."

Ron raised his hands in mock surrender. "I’m not tearing him down! I’m just saying it’s hard to believe. Neville and a girl from Beauxbatons?"

Neville’s face turned a shade of crimson. "I’m serious! We’ve been writing to each other, and she even sent me a few drawings, she does portraits and sent one shed done of herself"

Laughter erupted around the room, the sound mingling with Neville’s embarrassed smile.

Hermione’s expression softened. "That sounds just lovely Neville. Maybe you could show us next time?"

Neville blushed even deeper. "I’m planning to! Well, I was… but they fell in the black lake the other day and got ruined..”

Seamus grinned. "Well, that's just a bloody shame, isn't it?”

"I swear! I'm not lying!!" Neville replied, sounding both desperate for someone to believe him and annoyed they would think he'd lie about something like this, to begin with.

Ginny smirked. "It's ok Neville, we believe you really."

The boys continued their good-natured teasing, but Hermione and Ginny shot them looks that conveyed they should ease off. Gradually, the teasing softened, and Hermione quickly sought to change the subject.

"So, what about that new potion Professor Snape was on about?" she suggested, her smile brightening, and at the mention of Professor Snape everyone groaned out a whine.

The conversation shifted effortlessly as they delved into tales of misadventures in Potions class, leaving the topic of girlfriends behind, at least for the moment. Laughter filled the room once more, but Neville couldn’t help but shake his head at his friends. He knows they mean well, and as long as he knows he's telling the truth, then they'd eat their words eventually

----------

The greenhouses were buzzing with the sound of shovels scraping soil and the occasional screech from a particularly unruly Mandrake. Neville Longbottom, expertly handling a Venomous Tentacula with gloved hands, chatted absently with Ron as they worked together.

“I was talking to Y/N the other day,” Neville said, his tone casual as he patted down the soil around the plant. “She gave me some really good advice on how to deal with these sorts of plants. Apparently, they grow some massive ones in the Beauxbatons greenhouses.”

Ron looked up from his struggle with his own plant. “Oh yeah? Beauxbatons, right?”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, she said they have this whole section dedicated to magical flora that we don’t even study here. She told me about this method they use to calm them down, so they don’t snap at you when you get close.”

Hermione overheard and looked over, curiosity piqued. “Really? I’d love to read up on that. Beauxbatons must have a fantastic Herbology program. Did she mention any specific techniques?”

Neville smiled. “Yeah, something about using lavender essence mixed with dragon dung fertilizer. It keeps them relaxed but still healthy. I’m thinking about trying it on one of the plants here.”

Ron gave him a sideways glance, his expression caught between amusement and doubt. “You’ve got an answer for everything these days, don’t you, Neville? Y/N’s always helping you out, eh?”

“Well, she knows a lot about Herbology,” Neville said earnestly. “We talk about plants all the time.”

Harry, busy with his own re-potting, chuckled softly. “Sounds like you two have a lot in common, Neville. It’s nice to have someone who shares your interests.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “Exactly. And Beauxbatons is known for their magical plants, so it’s not surprising she’d know a lot. What else has she taught you?”

Before Neville could respond, Seamus, who was struggling with his own plant a few tables away, joined the conversation. “Wait a minute, are we still talking about the mysterious Beauxbatons girlfriend? You’ve got to admit, Neville, it sounds a bit too good to be true. A French girl who’s an expert in magical plants? What are the odds?”

Dean snorted in amusement. “Yeah, Neville, no offense, but you talk about her like she’s perfect. She’s beautiful, smart, loves Herbology… I’m starting to think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.”

Neville flushed, but he shook his head. “No, it’s not like that. She’s real, I promise. She just… understands me. We have a lot in common.”

Ron patted Neville on the back, grinning. “We believe you, mate. It’s just hard to imagine someone who’s basically a Herbology goddess and happens to be your girlfriend. We’ll believe it when we see her.”

Harry, who had been silent for most of the exchange, gave Neville an encouraging smile. “Well, I’m sure she’s real, Neville. It’d be great to meet her one day.”

Seamus, however, couldn’t resist another quip. “Maybe she’ll show up with a rare magical plant to prove it, eh?”

Neville forced a smile but didn’t push the subject further. He knew they didn’t mean to be harsh, but it was clear that, despite their friendly tones, his friends still had their doubts about Y/N. He returned to his work, focusing on the plants.

----------

It was a typical morning in the Great Hall, sunlight streaming through the tall enchanted windows, casting golden beams across the long tables filled with Hogwarts students enjoying their breakfast. The scent of fresh bread, eggs, and pumpkin juice filled the air. Chatter echoed from all sides, students murmuring about Quidditch matches, homework assignments, and weekend plans.

Neville sat at the Gryffindor table, absently pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate. His thoughts were far from breakfast. He had been waiting for weeks now—hoping for a letter or, even better, a package from Y/N.. Their relationship had been going strong, though the distance often made it difficult. But lately, he'd mentioned her so many times that his friends had begun to give him knowing looks, and their teasing, though lighthearted, always made him feel a little self-conscious.

“Oi, Neville! You alright, mate?” Seamus Finnigan asked, nudging him gently. “You’ve been staring at those eggs for ten minutes. Something on your mind?”

Neville smiled faintly, trying to shake off his nervous anticipation. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… waiting for the post.”

At that moment, as if on cue, the familiar sound of wings fluttering through the air filled the hall. Dozens of owls soared through the enchanted ceiling, delivering letters and parcels to their waiting owners. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the sea of wings, hoping to see something special. And then he saw it—a stunning, silvery owl with long, elegant wings gliding toward him, catching the light as it flew. It was unlike any owl he’d ever seen at Hogwarts.

The owl swooped down gracefully, landing right in front of Neville with a soft hoot. In its talons was a thick package wrapped in delicate lavender-colored paper, sealed with the distinctive wax crest of Beauxbatons. Neville’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he just stared at the package in his lap, hardly believing it.

“Blimey, Neville,” Ron said from across the table, his eyebrows raised. “That’s a fancy delivery.”

“Is that… from your girlfriend?” Hermione asked, looking at the package curiously.

Neville nodded, trying not to look too pleased. “Yeah, it’s from Y/N.”

His friends exchanged glances, but there wasn’t any teasing, just mild surprise. Neville had spoken about Y/N often, but she seemed almost like a mythical figure to them—this beautiful, mysterious girl from France whom none of them had ever met.

“That’s some owl she’s got,” Dean commented, leaning over to get a better look at the package. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one like that.”

Neville nodded again, feeling a bit self-conscious under their gazes. “She mentioned it once. Said it’s a rare breed from France. She’s… pretty proud of it.”

Seamus grinned. “Well, go on then, mate. Open it! Let’s see what she’s sent you.”

Neville hesitated for a moment, feeling all eyes on him. He knew they weren’t trying to be skeptical or mean, but he could sense the curiosity behind their words. His friends had never outright doubted him, but it was clear that after months of hearing about Y/N and not seeing any proof, they were a bit… unsure. Still, there was no mockery in their faces—just genuine interest.

With a deep breath, Neville carefully broke the wax seal and unwrapped the package. Inside was a beautifully embroidered scarf in the deep blue and silver colors of Beauxbatons, along with a folded letter. The scarf was soft, clearly handmade, and it smelled faintly of lavender.

“Wow,” Hermione said, leaning in closer. “That’s lovely, Neville. She made this for you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Neville said quietly, running his fingers over the delicate stitches. “She’s been learning how to embroider. I, um… mentioned I needed a new scarf for winter, and I guess she remembered.”

Ron nodded appreciatively. “That’s impressive. Not many people make things like this anymore.”

Harry smiled from beside him. “Looks like she really cares about you, Neville.”

Neville smiled, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the scarf. It felt good to hear that—not just because it was true, but because it seemed like, for once, his friends weren’t doubting him.

But then Seamus, ever the joker, raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You’ve got to admit, though, Neville—it’s almost too perfect. A hand-embroidered scarf? From a Beauxbatons girl who sends you packages by a rare French owl? It’s like something out of a storybook.”

Neville laughed, shaking his head. “I know it sounds a bit… unbelievable, but I swear it’s true. She’s real.”

Dean, who had been eyeing the letter, grinned. “Well, if she keeps sending you things like this, we’ll start believing in miracles.”

Hermione shot Dean a disapproving look, but Neville chuckled along with the others. It wasn’t mean-spirited—they were just having fun. He didn’t mind the light teasing, especially now that he had proof to show them. And even if they found it hard to believe, they weren’t questioning him outright, just amused at the unlikely situation.

“That’ll be the day,” Ron said with a grin, though he quickly added, “But hey, She sounds great.”

Neville folded the scarf carefully and slipped it into his bag, feeling a little lighter. “She is.”

As the conversation shifted back to Quidditch and schoolwork, Neville glanced down at the unopened letter in his hands. He could read it later, in private. For now, he felt content knowing that, whether his friends believed him or not, Y/N was real—and she cared about him enough to send something as special as this.

Even if they still found it hard to imagine, that was enough for Neville. And maybe, just maybe, one day soon, his friends would get to meet her and see for themselves that she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. But until then, he’d hold on to the scarf, the letter, and the quiet certainty that she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her.

----------

The Gryffindor common room was quieter than usual, the usual hustle and bustle replaced with a mellow atmosphere as the school year drew to a close. Most of the students had already packed their things, their trunks neatly stacked and waiting by the fireplace. The chairs around the room were occupied by groups of friends chatting, playing games, or simply lounging around, savoring the last few moments before heading home for the summer.

Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a couple of other Gryffindors near the windows, gazing out at the grounds. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow on the stone walls.

“I can't believe the year’s over already,” Dean said, leaning back in his chair. “Feels like we were just getting back from Christmas break.”

“Yeah, crazy,” Seamus agreed, his tone relaxed. “But I’m not going to miss the essays.”

Neville, absently fiddling with his wand, smiled. “I was telling Y/N about how busy it’s been. She’s had a lot going on too. The end of the year at Beauxbatons is apparently just as hectic as here.”

Seamus shot him a quick glance, his expression neutral, though Dean exchanged a brief look with him. “Y/N, huh?” Seamus said, not missing a beat. “Sounds like she’s got it rough over there.”

Neville nodded, completely unaware of Seamus’s inner skepticism. “Yeah, she’s been swamped. But we’re planning to meet up over the summer. She might even come to England for a bit.”

“That’s great, mate,” Dean chimed in, his voice casual though he raised his eyebrows slightly.

Neville stood up suddenly as if remembering something important. “Oh no! I forgot to pack my Astrronomy textbooks. I’ll be right back.”

With that, he hurried off to his dorm room, leaving the rest of them sitting there. The moment Neville was out of earshot, Seamus turned to the others with an exaggerated sigh.

“Alright,” Seamus said, leaning forward. “I like Neville, you all know that, but I’m telling you, there is no way Y/N exists.”

Dean grinned, leaning in as well. “You’re still stuck on that?”

Seamus shrugged, but the look on his face said he was convinced. “Come on, Dean. You’ve heard him talk about her for months—perfect French girlfriend from Beauxbatons who just happens to love magical plants as much as he does? I mean, sure, it could be true, but she’s never sent a picture, she’s never visited Hogwarts, and the only proof we’ve got are a few letters that could be from anyone.”

One of the younger Gryffindors, who had been listening in, piped up. “So, you think Neville’s lying? He doesn’t seem like the type to make something like that up.”

Seamus shook his head quickly. “No, I don’t think he’s lying, not really. I think he believes it. But I’m just saying—it sounds like he’s being catfished. It’s not like he’s met her in person since they started writing. For all we know, it could be some bloke from Durmstrang having a laugh.”

Dean chuckled. “You reckon someone’s really going that far to mess with Neville? That’s pretty dedicated.”

Seamus leaned back, his arms crossed. “Look, I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t think she’s real. Or if she is, maybe she’s not exactly what Neville thinks. It’s just a bit… convenient, isn’t it? All these grand stories, but no one’s ever seen her.”

One of the girls nearby, who had been half-listening, frowned. “But Neville doesn’t seem like he’s making it up. He talks about her like she’s the real deal.”

“I know, that’s what makes me feel bad about doubting him,” Seamus admitted. “But you’ve got to admit it’s a bit suspicious. Every time she’s supposed to visit, something comes up. She’s ‘too busy,’ or ‘there’s something going on at Beauxbatons.’ It’s been almost a year and still no sign of her.”

Dean raised a hand to stop Seamus. “Alright, alright. But what if she is real and just… busy?”

Seamus snorted softly, though his tone was lighter. “Then she’s the busiest girlfriend in the world. Look, I’m not saying I’d tell Neville to his face that I don’t believe her. The poor bloke would be crushed. But between us… I just don’t see it.”

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and Seamus’s words hung in the air. The group seemed divided—some more skeptical, others wanting to believe in Neville’s story.

“Maybe she’ll surprise us,” one of the younger students said. “Maybe she’ll show up next year and you’ll all feel silly.”

Seamus grinned, though his expression remained doubtful. “If she shows up, I’ll buy Neville a drink. But until then… I’m betting we’re in for another year of stories about a girl we’ll never meet.”

As they laughed and talked, the door to the boys’ dormitory creaked open, and Neville came back down the stairs, his arms full of books.

“Found them,” Neville said, smiling as he returned to his spot by the window. “I almost forgot the Mooncalf studies Y/N recommended too.”

Seamus caught Dean’s eye but quickly smiled at Neville. “Glad you found everything, mate. All set for the summer, then?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, sitting down and looking a little wistful. “Just can’t wait to see her.”

Seamus nodded, his tone friendlier now. “Hope it all works out, Nev.”

As the conversation moved on to other things, the quiet skepticism lingered, but none of them had the heart to say anything to Neville directly. As much as they doubted Y/N’s existence, they couldn’t bring themselves to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. They just hoped, in their own way, that somehow, Y/N would turn out to be real after all.

----------

The Hogwarts Express rattled along the tracks, carrying its excited students back to school for another year. Laughter, chatter, and the occasional call of a vendor selling sweets filled the air as students reunited after the summer holiday, exchanging stories and catching up on the latest news.

In one of the compartments, Neville sat with Seamus, Dean, and a few other Gryffindors, a wide grin on his face as he animatedly recounted his summer adventures.

“… and then we went to this amazing garden in Kew! She couldn’t believe how many magical plants were hidden in plain sight. I’ve never seen her so excited,” Neville said, his eyes sparkling as he spoke about Y/N for the umpteenth time since they’d boarded the train.

Seamus leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, nodding along. “That sounds pretty great, Neville. So, you finally got to go on a proper date, huh?”

Neville beamed. “Yeah! We went on a few, actually. We had the best time. She was in London visiting her family for a couple of weeks, so we got to meet up almost every day.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, curious. “You said she was visiting family before, right? Didn’t she have plans to stay longer?”

“Yeah, she did,” Neville admitted, his tone dropping slightly, “but something came up. Her family had to leave earlier than expected, so she didn’t get to meet you guys like we’d planned.” He looked apologetic as he said it, clearly disappointed that his friends hadn’t been able to meet Y/N again.

“That’s too bad,” Dean said, sharing a glance with Seamus. “We were looking forward to it.”

“Yeah, me too,” Neville sighed, but then perked up again. “But we did take loads of pictures! I wanted to show you all, but… uh…” He scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “She took the photos with her by accident when she left. We were using her camera, and she packed it with all her stuff.”

Seamus blinked, his expression carefully neutral. “So, no pictures?”

Neville shook his head, he saw the clear skepticism beneath Seamus’s question but brushed it off. “No, but she’s going to send them by owl as soon as she can. She promised. There were some really good ones too—us in front of the Leaky Cauldron, at Kew Gardens, and a few near the Tower of London. I can’t wait to show you all.”

Seamus exchanged another glance with Dean, a small smile tugging at his lips, though he kept it from looking too patronizing. “Sounds like it was a great time, mate.”

“Oh, it was,” Neville said earnestly. “Y/N’s amazing. We even talked about coming up with ways to visit more often during the year. Maybe meet up during the Hogsmeade weekends. I’m going to send her a letter as soon as we get back to Hogwarts.”

Seamus nodded along, though his smile faltered slightly. “Yeah, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Dean shifted in his seat, glancing out the window for a moment before leaning forward. “So, Neville, you said her family comes to London often, right? Does she have a lot of family here?”

“Her dad’s English,” Neville explained. “Her mum is French, so they stay over there most of the time but they come back to visit every summer, and sometimes during the holidays. That’s how we managed to spend so much time together.”

Dean nodded slowly, while Seamus leaned forward just a little. “And you didn’t think to borrow one picture, maybe a keepsake for yourself?” he asked lightly. There was no malice in his voice, but there was an unmistakable undertone of doubt.

Neville ignored it. “I didn’t need to. We’ve been writing so much, and she’s going to send the pictures soon. Besides, I’ve got her letters, and I brought back a few things we picked up together. Look.” He pulled out a small, intricately woven bracelet from his bag. “We got these matching bracelets from a little magical shop near Diagon Alley. Hers has a charm for luck, and mine’s for protection.”

Seamus studied the bracelet for a moment before leaning back. “That’s nice, Neville.”

Dean smiled at the bracelet, genuinely trying to be supportive. “Yeah, it looks great. You two must’ve had a good time.”

“We did,” Neville replied, relaxing now that he was surrounded by his friends. “She’s just… brilliant. I really wish you could’ve met her. I know you’d all get along.”

Seamus offered a friendly smile, though his eyes flickered with doubt. “Yeah, maybe next time, Neville.”

The compartment grew quiet for a moment, and the sound of the train clacking along the tracks filled the space. Outside, the countryside whizzed by in a blur of green fields and distant hills, and the feeling of excitement for the new school year was still palpable.

Dean, always the diplomat, broke the silence. “Well, I’m glad you had a good summer, Neville. Hopefully next time, the timing will work out better.”

Neville nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I’m sure it will. She really wants to meet you all. She’s heard so much about you.”

Seamus shot Dean a look, and Dean just shrugged, his face carefully neutral. No one wanted to say it, but the story about Y/N was starting to sound a bit too convenient—another summer gone by, another set of plans that didn’t quite line up. And now, no photos to show for it, either.

But despite their growing doubts, Seamus and Dean weren’t about to crush Neville’s enthusiasm. Not after he had spent the entire train ride practically glowing with happiness. Still, once Neville got up to stretch his legs and grab some snacks from the trolley, Seamus leaned toward Dean with a raised eyebrow.

“So… still no Y/N, huh?”

Dean chuckled quietly. “Still no Y/N.”

“I swear, if she’s real, I’ll eat my own shoe,” Seamus muttered under his breath. “Every time he gets close to introducing her, something comes up.”

Dean glanced out the window again before replying. “I don’t know, Seamus. Maybe she’s real, but there’s just bad timing. Or maybe…”

“Maybe she’s in his head,” Seamus finished, his tone soft but resigned. “I just don’t get how one person could have this much bad luck when it comes to us meeting her.”

Dean shook his head, a small smile on his lips. “At this point, I just hope for Neville’s sake that she’s real. You can see how much he cares about her.”

“Yeah,” Seamus sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I hope so too.”

When Neville returned with a handful of Chocolate Frogs and a Butterbeer, his smile was as bright as ever, blissfully unaware of the quiet conversation that had just passed between his friends. And as the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, his thoughts were already on the letters he’d be sending to Y/N once they arrived at school.

----------

The atmosphere in the Great Hall was buzzing with excitement. The start of a new school year always brought surprises, but this time, there was something different in the air. The students were seated at their house tables, eagerly awaiting the feast, when Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat to address the hall.

“Welcome, students, to another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore’s voice echoed throughout the room, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. “I am particularly pleased to announce that this year, we will be hosting a most extraordinary event… the Triwizard Tournament!”

A murmur spread through the hall, rippling with whispers and shocked expressions. Neville, seated at the Gryffindor table with Seamus, Dean, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, exchanged confused glances with the others.

“Triwizard Tournament?” Dean muttered. “That wasn’t in the usual announcements.”

“Yeah, didn’t see that coming,” Seamus added, leaning in to hear more.

Dumbledore continued, explaining the rich history of the tournament, how it had been revived, and the prestigious honor of being chosen as a champion. Then, with a wave of his hand, he motioned to the entrance of the hall.

“And now, may I introduce our esteemed guests from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic and Durmstrang Institute.”

The heavy doors at the end of the hall swung open, and the students of Beauxbatons Academy entered. They moved with grace and poise that captivated everyone, wearing their sky-blue silk robes as they marched in perfect unison. Neville’s heart raced as he scanned the group, but he couldn’t spot Y/N among them.

“Who are they?” Harry asked, squinting to get a better look.

“I don’t know,” Hermione replied, intrigued. “But they look amazing.”

“They’re all so… elegant,” Ron said, trying to take it all in. “Do you think they’re all that good-looking?”

“Probably,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully.

As the Beauxbatons students completed their entrance, Neville’s heart dropped when he didn’t see Y/N. Just when he thought he might be imagining things, she stepped forward, performing acrobatic flips and graceful spins, her hair flowing behind her like a cascade of river waves. She looked more stunning than Neville could ever have described.

“Bloody hell, who is that?” Dean whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.

Seamus was staring, frozen in place. “No way…”

When the introductions were done, Neville leaned closer to his friends. “That’s her! That’s Y/N!”

Harry raised an eyebrow, glancing between Neville and the group. “Wait, who’s Y/N? Which one?”

Neville pointed toward Y/N, who was beaming with joy alongside her classmates. “The one in the front! I didn’t know she was coming!”

The others turned to look, their expressions shifting from curiosity to disbelief. “No way!” Ron exclaimed, glancing at Neville. “You weren’t joking about her being real?”

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “She’s absolutely brilliant!”

Before anyone could say another word, a voice called out from across the hall.

“Neville!”

Neville’s head snapped up, and there she was, weaving through the crowd, her face lighting up when she spotted him. “Y/N!” he breathed.

The next thing he knew, Y/N was rushing toward him, a wide smile on her face. “Neville!” she called again, and in an instant, she was there, throwing her arms around him.

Without hesitation, she began planting kisses all over his face—on his cheeks, forehead, and nose—her laughter bubbling up as she clung to him. “I’ve missed you so much!” she said between kisses.

The entire Gryffindor table stared in stunned silence. Seamus’s mouth was hanging open, while Dean could only blink in disbelief. All around the hall, students who had been casually talking or laughing stopped to watch the unexpected display. Whispers started spreading like wildfire, but Neville didn’t care—he was too overjoyed, too caught up in the moment.

“Y/N!” Neville finally managed to say, his face flushed from the attention. “I—I missed you too! I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N giggled and pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her hands still resting on his shoulders. “I wanted to surprise you, silly. You should’ve seen your face when I came in!” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

Neville was too overwhelmed to respond properly. His heart felt like it was about to burst from happiness. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, grinning ear to ear.

“I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N said softly, wrapping her arms around him again in a tight hug.

The Gryffindor table was still frozen in place, watching the entire scene unfold with wide eyes. Seamus finally found his voice and leaned toward Dean, whispering, “Well… that is not what I expected at all...”

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “You’re not the only one, mate.”

Y/N finally pulled away from Neville, her smile never fading. She glanced around at his friends, who were still recovering from the shock. “You must be Neville’s friends,” she said brightly, offering them a cheerful wave. “It’s so nice to finally meet you all!”

“Y-Yeah, we’ve heard… a lot about you,” Dean stammered, offering a friendly, albeit awkward smile.

Y/N laughed, completely oblivious to the lingering disbelief. “I hope all good things!”

“Definitely,” Seamus managed to say, shooting Neville a look that was a mixture of awe and apology. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Y/N.”

As the rest of the Great Hall resumed their chatter, Neville stood there with Y/N by his side, his face glowing with pride. After a year of doubt, teasing, and skepticism, here she was—real, vibrant, and wonderful.

For once, Neville didn’t need to say anything. His friends finally believed him.

[joonsmagicshop]

Faking It- Chapter Two

Summary: When you first met Namjoon you never expected he would ghost you for a month due to his own clumsiness. You also never expected him to walk into your café and ask you to be his fill in girlfriend at his cousins wedding.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader.

Word Count: 5k

Rating: E for everyone

Tags: Again just backstory and stuff to get the plot going

Author Note: protective taetae has my heart

*message me if you want to be added to the taglist*

Masterlist for this fic

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You stood in shock as chaos ensued around you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Namjoon as he smiled sheepishly at you, the words he just said reverberating in your brain as you scrambled to make sense of them

“Y/N I kind of well. Will you come to a wedding with me in December? Like in three weeks. I kind of volunteered you by accident. I’m sorry!”

You were just about to open your mouth to say something, maybe ask him to repeat it when you heard your name being called from across the cafe and you looked to see Taehyung struggling to assist a swarm of people.

His brown eyes were wide and panicked and that look alone made you spring into action.

“Namjoon I’m sorry can we… figure this out later I have to… I’m at work.” You finished weakly as you shot him an apologetic look and raced behind the counter immediately snapping into action to help Taehyung as more people came into the cafe.

You had no time to even admire how beautiful it was outside as you kept your head down and kept taking orders and making drinks.

It took almost an hour for the line to clear out and almost every table in the cafe was full. When you finally did look up Namjoon was long gone and his table was cleared.

“Holy crap I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many people at once.” Jimin comments wiping his brow with his apron and sighing, leaning on the counter for a quick break.

“That was insane. Like truly insane. I feel like everyone ducked in here to get out of the snow, our line almost went to the door.” Taehyung commented fixing his headband which had slipped so far back it was no longer holding his hair in place.

The music suddenly stopped as a couple more people walked into the cafe and their eyes widened at how full it was.

“Shit playlist is over,” Taehyung noted as you scooted behind him and squeezed his arm.

“I got it.”

You made your way to the tiny office at the far end of the cafe right next to the cleaning closet and took out your small key ring unlocking the door.

Taehyung kept the office simple with a small desk, a computer, and some minimal decor. You had decided to keep the office cell phone in here as it was still close enough to connect to the Bluetooth speaker but far enough away where it wouldn’t accidentally get spilled on by steaming hot coffee.

You pressed the password and scrolled down to find some festive jazz music, pressing the play button and letting music flood the cafe again.

Festive music felt right when a random snowstorm decided to show up a month before Christmas.

You paused in the office and slunk down in Tae’s big comfy chair letting out a sigh.

You pulled out your phone as a distraction from all the thoughts racing through your brain and you saw you had a text message from an unknown number.

Namjoon.

You never ended up putting him in as a contact.

Namjoon: I know things got busy and it was awful timing to bring that up. You probably have so many questions so text me and maybe we can meet up. Please just let me explain.

The office door opens and Tae slips inside you immediately sit up in the chair and he shoots you a weary smile.

“Crazy afternoon right?” He comments as you start to stand up to let him take his desk chair back but he shakes his head and instead takes the small chair in the corner, scooting it closer to his desk.

“I’ve never seen so many people in here at once.” You say feeling your phone vibrate again.

Namjoon: Please let me explain I feel like an idiot for even bringing it up.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked as you pocket your phone again and tuck your loose strands behind your ear.

“Yeah, I’m all good Tae.”

He stares at you and you know he can see through your lie. He has known you too long for you to get things past him.

“What happened with Namjoon? Do I need to beat him up? I will.” Taehyung says as you crack a smile.

“It was fine. Nothing happened. He- he dropped his phone in a sewer grate before leaving for a business trip for a month. That’s why he disappeared.” You explain shifting your weight in the chair under Taehyung’s heavy gaze.

“So what happened?” He asked leaning forward and waiting for your answer.

“You don’t have to hurt him if that’s what you want to know. I took his number this time and made sure to text him to be sure it was right. We are going to try again from the top.” You say with a small smile on your face.

“Okay, but something else obviously happened because when I called you to help out you looked like a dear caught in the headlights. You never freeze up like that. What did he do?” Tae asks dropping his voice low

“He..well he wants to try again. We both do. Then he told me…well I mean he invited me to a wedding? Told me he volunteered me to go to a wedding with him. And then we got busy so I have no idea what that means.” You say fidgeting with your clothes.

“I’m sorry what? You aren’t going to a wedding with a stranger? And what do you mean volunteered?” He asks concern written all over his face.

“I have no idea. I haven’t had a chance to text him with the rush and all. I came in here to collect myself before figuring this out.” You explain.

“Y/N you can’t. He just got back in your good graces and he’s already asking you for a favor. A huge favor! I mean who does that?” Taehyung argues, brows furrowed as you stand up and take out your phone typing out a quick message to Namjoon before you send yourself into a spiral of overthinking.

You: I’m done work in four hours if you want to come back and explain. I have so many questions.

“I texted him and let him know if he wants to explain he can come after my shift we should probably get back out there or Jimin might burn the place down.” You tease as you walk around the desk and reach for the door however Taehyung stops you with a hand on your arm.

“Please don’t let this guy hurt you again Y/N.” He warns as you stop in your tracks and stare at him.

“He hurt you. I know you didn’t say anything but it was obvious, at least to me. How you kept obsessively checking your phone. How you kept staring at the door in hopes he would just appear. Please be careful that’s all I ask.” Taehyung tells you before releasing your arm.

“Thanks, Tae I will.” You promise as you hold out your pinkie.

Taehyung chuckles and loops his pinkie with yours.

Ritual as old as time, the sacred pinkie promise.

You giggle when you release pinkies and both leave the office hoping Jimin was okay to handle everything for a short while.

Namjoon showed up exactly at seven pm and when you saw him your breath caught in your throat. He looked the same as he did earlier in the day but this time his cheeks were tinged with pink from the cold air and snow stuck to his eyelashes.

While the snowstorm had died down, small flakes were still falling blanketing everything in a soft white and making the world look fresh and new from this morning’s dreary gray sky.

Taehyung was cleaning tables and he shot Namjoon a look when he walked by to meet you at the counter.

Jimin had left an hour ago and Jungkook offered to stay to help Taehyung close up but he was in the back researching new recipes.

“Hey,” Namjoon said as you gathered your things from behind the counter and hung your apron on your designated hook.

“Hi.” You said softly as Namjoon shot you a warm smile that despite your better judgment, had you grinning right back at him.

Taehyung’s warning was still playing in the back of your mind, it had been replaying over and over for the last couple of hours as you finished your work for the day.

Taehyung was just being protective and you promised yourself that you would keep your guard up around Namjoon until you knew him better but every time he smiled it seemed your guard would slip a little bit. He just had that effect on you.

“Ready to go? I thought I could take you somewhere and we could talk.” He asks as you walk around the counter and stand next to him, plopping your bag on a nearby table so you can zip up your coat.

“Where do you have in mind?” You ask as you fumble with your zipper trying not to zip up any of your hair as you took it down before Namjoon showed up.

“I was thinking of a cafe maybe a couple of blocks down from here.” He says shyly as you finally get your zipper working and you look up at him.

“Namjoon we are literally in a cafe right now.” You remind him gesturing around at the mostly empty tables.

“I know but I didn’t think it was right for me to have our first date at your workplace you know.” He answers smoothly causing you to blush.

“This is a date?” You quiz him as you shove your hat over your hair and loop your bag over your shoulders.

“I’m thinking this is a let’s talk and figure things out and we can decide if it is a date after.” He says with a smile as you wave to Taehyung and lead Namjoon out of the cafe and into the cold.

The air is crisp and it burns your lungs slightly as you follow Namjoon out onto the almost empty streets. Overhead fairy lights are twinkling and the snow is slowly dying down with occasional flakes falling. The sky is dark and littered with stars and everything feels so new and magical, or maybe it is the fact Namjoon reaches out to grab your gloved hand.

You smile up at him and after the short walk, you find yourself standing in front of a white building which is a very empty coffee house.

Namjoon politely holds the door open for you and shoots you a charming smile as you enter.

While Tae’s Teas goes for a clean aesthetic look this place takes on a more earthy look and you have to admit the place is beautiful. The walls are cream colored and fake and real plants are scattered everywhere. Everything is soft light wood, whites, browns, and greens and you can’t help but gasp as you notice the giant mural painted on the far wall.

It is a huge climbing ivy, starting at the bottom and expanding outwards to cover most of the wall. Tangled in its leaves are coffee cups and tea cups making the whole thing fit the vibe perfectly.

“Isn’t that piece cool? It’s a legend around here.” Namjoon explains as you continue to stare at it in awe. Whoever painted it seemed to know what they were doing as it looked to be perfect in every way.

“Jin, my friend that owns this place, said the kid came in one day and almost begged to paint that wall. Jin thought why the hell not? If it turns out to be crap he can paint over it. I was away but I heard the story.”

“The kid came in with a sketchbook and got Jin to approve of the idea, every day for two months he came in and worked on it. Hardly talked to anyone just put headphones in and did it. When it was over everyone was so impressed and the kid didn’t even want money. He just said every time he drove by the wall looked so bare and he wanted to make it into something beautiful. Jin of course paid him and then the kid disappeared. No one ever saw him again or even knew what happened to him. We only got a first name. Jungkook. I never met him, Jin met him a handful of times and Yoongi only met him once. Sometimes we wonder if we imagined him but if you look close near the blue teacup you can see his initials.” Namjoon explains pointing out the microscopic JK handwritten there.

“Jungkook?” You ask feeling completely thrown off, blinking up at Namjoon.

Like your Jungkook?

“Jin said that was his name? Wait? Do you know him?” Namjoon asks eyes wide and voice excited.

“Yeah, I work with him. I-I didn’t know he could paint like that holy crap.” You exclaim in awe as you continue to stare at the art truly captivated by it.

It did make sense though, Jungkook always worked on your signs inside and outside the shop as he had the best handwriting out of the four of you. He also liked to add little doodles to things because he said they made it look “more interesting.”

Something like this though, so big and grand it made you glow with pride as you could imagine Jungkook in his dark baggy clothes with his headphones in having the time of his life painting the wall.

“He is our head baker and truly amazing. He does all our signs because he is so good. I had no idea though he did something like that. It’s incredible.” You gush as a voice clears from the counter and you turn to see a man standing there with his arms folded.

You were sure he wasn’t here when you first arrived and you jumped when you saw him.

He was staring at you and Namjoon in annoyance and you knew why. You would hate to be standing there waiting to serve a customer only to have them gawk at the art and take up your time.

“Maybe we should order.” You whisper as Namjoon chuckles and leads you to the counter.

The counter is bigger than yours and you can see that the desert case is almost empty. Maybe they are closing soon and you both should go somewhere else. You didn’t want to make them stay open past close that was so unfair.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else, it looks like they are closing soon.” You whisper feeling small under the worker’s gaze.

“Nah it’s okay it’s just Yoongi. He is our resident grumpy grandpa but he’s as sweet as Suga. He helps out when he can. Jin hired all college and University kids but sometimes with exams, they can’t work as much so we step in and help.” He explains as Yoongi shoots Namjoon a glare.

“I’m not grumpy. Maybe if you didn’t stand and stare at the wall I could have already been home.” He grumbles which has you shrinking more under his gaze.

“This is Y/N Yoongi and she knows who painted that piece. She works with him.” Namjoon explains calmly letting Yoongi’s sass roll off his back as if it never happened.

“You do?” Yoongi asks eyebrows raised as he stares at you.

“Yeah, I work at Tae’s Teas and Jungkook is our head baker there. I had no idea he painted this though.” You admit.

“He is a very talented kid. I met him once. Very shy but talented.” Yoongi complements shooting you a small smile.

“Now what can I get you both.”

You both order Hot chocolate and muffins and Yoongi gets to work as Namjoon chats him up. You find out quickly that they both work together producing music but help out Jin at the cafe when they can. Turns out Jin owns a couple of restaurants and cafes in the city and is quite a popular name among food critics.

Yoongi slides you the food and drinks, swiftly takes his apron off, and gives Namjoon a hard stare.

“I’m trusting you to close the store Namjoon. I’m not covering for you with Jin if you lose the key. Y/N I hate to ask you this but can you make sure he doesn’t lose the key? If I had a dollar for every time he did, well I’d be a very rich man.” Yoongi grumbles.

“Yoongi it hasn’t been that many times,” Namjoon whines as you laugh.

“So he doesn’t just lose cell phones then?” You tease as Namjoon lets out a groan and Yoongi snickers.

“I like this one.” He says pointing to you before gathering his things and waving over his shoulder. He heads out the back door and soon enough you can hear an engine revving.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and leads you to a table near the window. Before he sits he takes his time making sure all doors are locked and the lights are dimmed. He also pulls all the blinds down explaining how he doesn’t want customers to think they are open.

“So wait are we allowed to be in here?” You ask as he finally shucks off his coat hangs it on the back of his chair and sits down.

You follow suit and Namjoon smiles at you.

“Technically I work here so yes. But if you are worried I did okay it with Jin just in case.” He explains as you wrap your hands around the mug and let it warm your bare hands.

The hot chocolate is creamy and rich and you giggle when the whipped cream sticks to your lips. It warms you from the inside out and you wonder if you begged enough Namjoon would tell you the secret to making it taste so good.

“So…” He starts as he slowly takes the top off the muffin and shoves some in his mouth.

“So.” You repeat as you run your hands down your thighs nervously.

“I picked a bad time to drop that whole wedding thing on you. I wanted to talk to you about it I just never expected you to get so many customers at once.” Namjoon admits shyly as you nod and bring your cup to your lips, taking a sip of your drink and giving him the space to talk.

“Okay so. While I was away for a month I did have a week off so I flew back here to visit my parents. They live an hour train ride from here and well… My mom wanted to remind me for the hundredth time that my cousin is getting married in three weeks. December 21st right before Christmas. Which I already knew because he asked to stand in the wedding ages ago” Namjoon starts.

He lets out a small sigh as his eyes roll up to the ceiling.

“Sungho and I grew up together. Because we are the same age we were more than just cousins, we were best friends. Sungho and I grew up almost the same until we got into high school. He was the popular kid, playing sports and dating the prettiest girls. Everything seemed to fall into his lap. Whereas I may be tall, but I sure as hell am not athletic. I was more of the nerdy smart kid. I spent my days completing homework and watching shows while he was out going to parties with girls.” Namjoon says.

“Anyway, this is when tension started to arise. We got compared… a lot. And I just could never compete with him you know. He was just…that guy. Was already riding a bike when I still had training wheels. Knew what it was like to kiss a girl when I still thought they had cooties.”

You chuckled imagining small Namjoon sticking out his tongue when his cousin talks about kissing.

“Then I started making music. I went to underground rap competitions when I was fourteen, that’s actually how I met Yoongi. He is a year older and took me under his wing. Eventually, I told my parents I didn’t want to go to business school I wanted to be a music producer, or maybe a musician myself. At first, they weren’t supportive at all but eventually, they came around. Only if I finished business school. My dad is a hardworking businessman who was hardly ever home because he was always working. I think my parent’s dream was for me to be like him. But I didn’t want that.” Namjoon explains pausing to take a sip of his drink.

“I finished business school for my parents then decided to go into the music thing full time. Yoongi and I were already scouted we were just waiting for….others. They wanted to make us into a band. The greatest band the world would see but after a year they couldn't find anyone that matched our vibe so Yoongi insisted we become music producers instead. This all happened in Korea because I studied abroad. Yoongi came with me and worked on producing music while I was in school. Anyway, they took us on and since everything is online we work from the office here so we both could be closer to our families.”

“No matter what I do I’ll never be Sungho and while I’ve accepted that I don’t think my parents have. When my mom brought up that I would be standing in the wedding she reminded me that my cousin is the same age as me and getting married, while I was always away in different countries making music and maybe I should settle down.” Namjoon chuckles shaking his head.

“She then brought up how I had been single for a while and I just couldn’t take it and told her I was seeing someone. I was so tired of the comparison of Sungho’s life to mine that I just…snapped. I know it is super embarrassing to make up a girlfriend at my age but I just couldn’t bear to see her disappointed face…again. I’m sorry this must seem so pathetic.” He mutters as you reach out to hold his hand.

His hands are large and soft and when you lace your fingers through his you can feel a spark down to your toes.

“I get it Namjoon. I get why you did it. It must have been frustrating to constantly be compared.” You sympathize as he nods.

“Well my mom started to ask me a billion questions so I told her…a little about you. The lies just kept coming and well my mom told me I better be bringing you to the wedding.” He finishes looking ashamed of himself.

“I tried every excuse in the book to get you out of it but my mom doesn’t tolerate liars and I know this so I don’t know why I lied in the first place. You don’t have to come honestly I don’t expect you to I just figured I should shoot my shot you know.” He says running his thumb along yours.

“So you lied to your mom and want me to go as a fake girlfriend to your cousin’s wedding?” You summarize hoping you got it right.

“I mean that makes it sound awful but you're right. Sungho and his soon-to-be wife are loaded. The wedding is up north in the mountains and they rented everyone cabins to stay in. My sister was supposed to come but she is six months pregnant and thought it better not to so it would be us and my parents sharing a cabin.” Namjoon explains taking another bite of his muffin.

“Is this a ploy to get rid of my body in the snow?” You ask honestly which has Namjoon bursting out in laughter.

“No! Definitely not! Though that does sound worse than using you as a fake girlfriend to keep my dignity intact.” He says in between laughter as you finish off your muffin and wrap your hands around your cup again.

“So this is real then?” You ask teasingly as Namjoon smiles and pulls out the invite from his coat pocket sliding it towards you.

The invite is simple enough, a beautiful black and white photo of the couple on the front, and on the back all the details are written in swooping calligraphy.

“How much time do I have to prepare?” You ask as Namjoon’s eyes widen.

“Three weeks…Wait? You are coming with me? For real?” He asks giddy as he begins to wiggle in his seat in excitement.

“I mean. As long as you promise to not be using this to dispose of my body in the snow I don’t see why not.” You say as Namjoon leaps from his chair and pulls you in for a hug.

Your laughter bounces off the walls of the empty cafe as Namjoon whoops and cheers pressing you in for a very tight hug.

“Wow okay so. I will pay for everything. The dress the shoes whatever you need. I’ll also pay for the gift for the couple and your train ticket. You just have to show up.” he babbles releasing you and sitting back down.

“Namjoon you don’t have to…” You start, sitting down again but he stops you.

“First you forgive me for being clumsy, next you agree to help me out. Honestly at this point I owe you my life.” He gushes.

“So I told my mom we have been dating for six months so we have to act like things are pretty serious with us. And I will fill you in on everything about my family so you don’t go in blind. Oh Y/N I’m so grateful for you this just saved me like you wouldn’t believe.” He says eyes wide in excitement and mouth drawn into a grin.

“So I have three weeks to learn all this?” You ask feeling suddenly nervous but Namjoon soothes you by using his pointer finger to trace the palm of your hand. He is so soft and gentle with you that it makes your heart leap into your throat and you feel giddiness spread throughout.

“Yes, but we are going to do it together. You may be my fake girlfriend but I’m also going to be your fake boyfriend. I’m going to be alongside you the entire time.” He says sincerely as his finger continues to trace and is now making its way up your wrist causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Okay, but there is something we have to discuss.” You say as his finger stops moving and he looks up at you with widened eyes.

“What about….this?” You ask motioning between the both of you.

“I mean. We never went on a date or anything and now I’m expected to be your fake girlfriend. What about…whatever we started here.” You ask honestly as Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks.

“Here’s what I think. We never got to figure out what this is between us and that is my fault. I say we put it on hold, at least until this whole mess is over then revisit it. I don’t want the lines to become blurred because we don’t know what is real and what is acting. I say we get to know each other up until the wedding as friends. Then we put on our best performance in front of my family and after we can see how we feel.” He confirms and you frown.

“I know.” He says taking in your reaction “This isn’t how I wanted to do this either but I think it’s our best shot so no one gets hurt.” He says taking both your hands in his.

“Yeah, I agree with you I just hate that the first time something romantic happens to me it has to be faked.” You sigh.

Namjoon’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Wait what?” He asks.

You blush.

“I mean I’ve had crushes on people but it never seemed to work out. I’ve kissed guys of course, I even dated a guy in University for five months but as far as romance goes, I haven’t had much.” You admit feeling awkward and not meeting his gaze.

“You coming up to me. I mean that’s not something that ever happens to me. The guy I dated in University… we were from the same friend group and it just kind of happened. That’s why when you ghosted me it hurt so much.” You say still not making eye contact with him and feeling embarrassed.

“Y/N Look at me please.” He whispers and you raise your head to meet his piercing gaze.

“I don’t think less of you because you haven’t experienced a lot of romance or you feel like you don’t have a lot of experience. I promise when this is over I will take you on a real date that won’t end up with us plotting a scheme to have you be my fake girlfriend.” He jokes as you crack a small smile.

“I was serious when I said I wanted to get to know you. And when this is all over we will do this properly.”

And you gasped when he held out his pinkie.

You looped your pinkie around his sealing the deal and smiled up at him. You could put your feelings on hold for a month. Sure you didn’t have experience being someone’s fake girlfriend but you were confident you could figure it out because there was just something about Namjoon. Maybe it was his kind smile, or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed but something inside you wanted to get to know him, wanted to help him, and just like he said you didn’t want to ignore those signs.

“Okay so let’s get started let me tell you about my crazy family.” He teases with a smirk as you settle in for a long night

Taglist

@caught-in-the-afterglow

@hearteyes4hobi

@m00njinnie

@stayonmars

@marihoneywk

@mustbeaweasleyginger

@xmspurple7x

@taekritimin123

@lerasi

@dejaariana

@coffeedepressionsoup

@rpwprpwprpwprw

@callmenoona25

@borahaetelevision

[alphabetboyluvr]

masterlist

all fics are posted to wattpad first (don't judge a girlie by her primary upload platform </3)

i write about the stars, boys who are carved like greek sculptures, and the inability to communicate in a healthy, functional manner. and i also like to write about bangtan sonyeondan in relation to all of those things.

WATTPAD // AO3 // KO-FI // CARRD

no translations | minors dni | don't be a dick x

JJK

SERIES

THROTTLE

pairing: boyracer!jk x fem reader - mutual disdain to lovers synopsis: in which jeon jungkook hates speed limits, the local government, and the way that min yoongi looks at you. current wc: 160,244 warnings: explicit language, drug usage, violence, dangerous driving, smut, and themes of an adult nature. not a mafia au, but teeters around the edges of it. organised crime and corruption are at the heart of the story. the characters have questionable morals and do dumb shit. be prepared to hate them as much as you love them. jungkook is a tittie luvr. no further questions.

BAD DECISIONS - link will take you to the clubdionysus tumblr!

pairing: bartender!jungkook x female reader | strangers-friends-lovers, fwb synopsis: it’s simple: write your deepest darkest fears on origami birds and string them up on jungkook’s ceiling. when they fall—which they inevitably will, thanks to his cheap daiso washi tape—you have to face the fear. set it free. the issue? you’ve a fear of intimacy. jungkook, a fear of rejection. and you’ve both got the capacity to make some incredibly bad decisions. current w/c: 450k notes: smut, fluff, a lil angst, bartender!jk, student!jk, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers (?), fwb, deal arrangement, undefined relationship (they’re just friends! just besties!!), miscommunication, idiots in love, emotional slow burn, bucket list (a.k.a. the birds 2024 note: wattpad took down bad decisions as part of their 2024 purge </3. it's now hosted on it's very own tumblr (clubdionysus) and over on ao3!

BAD DECISIONS SMUT INDEX

ONE SHOTS

extended - 5k words or more

ONCE THE THRILL EXPIRES

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader synopsis: your housemate-turned-fwb takes another girl home after a night out wordcount: 5.8K notes: angsty, smutty turmoil. it’s not that bad, but it definitely isn’t a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that’ll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

LANDSLIDES

pairing: officeworker!jungkook x female reader (coworkers) synopsis: jungkook asks you to dog sit over chuseok. he doesn’t ask you to steal the empty spaces in his head, the dreams he’s yet to have, nor the idea of you always just being ‘you’ to him - and yet, like a thief in the night (with his own damn dog as your accomplice), you do. wordcount: 6.8K warnings: fluff more than angst, but it’s not clean cut - there’s also a touch of smut. office worker jk, fuck boy (but kind!) jk, mentions of his workplace escapades, oc is dating mingyu (yay), oc sorta fancies jk (boo), solo masturbation (m), vivid thoughts of shagging (jk is a perv! wow! unlike me to write him as randy bastard!), lots of facetime calls, oc and jk are fundamentally flawed as a pairing, genuine friendship, daddy kink? ig? but like kinda sweet?, jungkook has a complex brain house and you’ve been banished to his annexe!! he also has a thing for claw clipped hair lol

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

something borrowed

- mafia au | forbidden love

dance with the devil

- royalty au | former lovers

KNJ

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

back to you

- idol au | exes

KSJ

MYG

SERIES

HUSH

pairing: rockstar!yoongi x female reader | mutual disdain - lovers (but also strangers - lovers? kinda?) synopsis: in which you work for your brothers band by day and accidentally anonymously sext his bandmate on the regular by night! whoops ! current w/c: 17.5k notes: okay, where to start with this one lmao, sexting! and i mean… a lot of sexting (so much sexting oc will probably get early-onset arthritis in her thumbs), yoongi is a dick, he also hates nepotism, and in turn, you. oh yeah, you’re jin’s sister, you work with the band on tour. jin, yoongi, tae, jk and joon are in The Scouts aka the hottest band since sliced bread. jimin is their tour manager, hobi works up in the head office (he’s sleazy and i love him). slight love triangle, one-near-footjob (and counting!), eventual smut, a little angst, dating app that is exclusively for celebrities / people in the public eye, one incredibly inconvenient pairing, yoongi calls the oc clementine / clemmie and it’s cuter than it sounds, idk how else to explain this, mistaken identity i guess? although not really? look, just read it lol. smut warnings will be on chapters individually!!

PALLADIUM

pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut synopsis: min yoongi is urgent.  in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent. how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.  the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent. but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid. until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.   wordcount: 3.2K notes: three part series, fluff, angst, eventual smut, yoongi is incredibly conflicted, the oc is just as dumbfounded by the way she feels, lots of feelings!!

JHS

PJM

KTH

ONE SHOTS

short - under 5k words

sundae (kinda love)

- childhood friends | angst