#I have no job and no hope of getting one any time soon with how things are going

[the-secret-formulaone]

Oh, baby Pt. 2

prompt: finally pregnant and well on your second trimester you take a job for f1 so you can continue being on the road with max. the secret continues being well kept, or is it?

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

word count: 10.8k

warnings: 18+, smut, cursing, p in v sex, riding, hand job, making out, mentions of masturbation, grinding, mentions of pregnancy loss, suggestive language

a/n: hello again! let me start off by apologizing 'cause this took ridiculously long. all i'm missing is the culmination to this fic which i might finish soon since i'm inspired. quite honestly max's look after the british grand prix with the messy hair is to blame for the inspiration. i do hope this is to your liking, i've added a couple more social media posts than the first part. i never expected this fic to have gathered such a good reaction so thank you! it is quite fluffy and a bit spicy and lovey dovey, please sit back and enjoy, id love to hear your thoughts at the end thank you <3

part one

Monaco | February 2025

Max returning home from training made you stir in your sleep. You hear the bedroom door opening, Max’s shuffling steps, and the shower running. Your eyes remain closed, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere and the domesticity of it all.

Considering you and Max’s professions, your life is far from domestic. It’s spent traveling around the world for most of the year, except for Winter and Summer break. Even then, you and Max take little escapades to relax and enjoy your free time.

Now, temporarily retired from racing, you’ve been skipping the hard training that comes with it. You go to the gym a couple of times a week to stay in shape, but nothing compares to the intense training Max and the others go through. You’d say you miss it, but it would be a lie.

The edge of the bed dips as Max sits. He softly touches your cheek with the back of his hand to get you to open your eyes. He figured you’d be awake.

“Morning, my love,” you quietly say, opening your eyes, letting them adjust to the soft light filtering through the blinds.

The sight that greets you is one straight out of your dreams. Max sits on the bed with only a towel around his waist. The tip of his hair is slightly curled with beads of water threatening to fall on his skin.

Max smiles, rubbing your arm soothingly. He likes to touch you in any way he can. It helps him feel close to you. “Good morning, schatje,” he says, his hand touching your tummy. “Good morning, baby. How did you sleep?”

You sit up, brushing your hair back and stretching your tight muscles. “Pretty good, but the bed got cold,” you pout, referring to him waking up early to train. You instantly missed his lazy arm around your waist and the warmth on your back.

“I’m sorry, but some of us still have to train. Especially, with the season around the corner,” he points out, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.

It’s impossible to tire of the man sitting next to you, especially in his state of undress. You’ll admit the hormones are playing a big part in the indecent thoughts running through your head.

“It’s okay as long as you make it up to me,” you say coyly, trailing your fingers up and down Max’s arm. You press a kiss on his shoulder as your fingers inch towards the edge of the towel.

He finds you staring at him with wide, ‘innocent’ eyes. The corners of your lips lightly lift against his skin as you try to contain yourself.

Ultimately, you fail.

Max releases a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head as he leans back to allow you further access. You undo the towel skillfully with eager fingers grasping at his length. He stifles a groan.

All he had to do was let you touch him; you weren’t asking for much. You got off in giving him all the attention in return for watching him become undone. A sliver of control is what you ask for. Eventually, he’ll take what’s his, but for this moment, he lets you thrive as you watch him clench his eyes closed and bite his lip.

You kiss his neck, hearing his throaty groan when you stroke him, his cock thickening in your grasp. It grows warm as the seconds pass, throbbing with need.

He moans your name, reaching for your face to kiss you. Max finds you, dipping his head to allow his tongue to slide into your warm mouth.

The break kisses when pleasured, breathy moans fall from his lips. You lean against him as your hand strokes his length. There’s a bead of precum forming on his tip, which you gladly swipe with your thumb and lick it off.

“You fucking tease,” he hisses, watching you smile wickedly.

“I don’t have to be,” you purr, pulling him further into the bed until his back rests against the headboard.

Max reaches for you, pulling at the old t-shirt you slept in. You wear nothing underneath, preferring to sleep without underwear for the comfort it provides.

It took a while for Max to wrap his head around that. It was hard sleeping next to you at the beginning, knowing it would be so easy to touch you. There were many times he could not control himself. Not that you minded.

“How is not wearing underwear to bed not being a tease?” He replies smartly. A calloused hand comes down from your neck to your chest, where it squeezes one of your sensitive breasts.

Max recalls all the times your sleeping arrangements have resulted in morning sex. Too many to count.

“That’s a you problem, Maxie. It’s purely for comfort,” you pant, straddling him and dipping your head to press your lips against his. “Makes this easier, too.” You align his tip against your slick entrance, sinking along his cock in one smooth motion.

You moan out his name, feeling his thick cock parting your walls and filling you up. The familiar sensation of being filled, overtaking your senses, and clouding your mind.

There’s a blissful smile across your face as you bounce on him, forgetting about the world around you. There’s only Max and his fiery touch.

Max only lets you enjoy yourself for a minute before he wraps his arms around your body like a vice, forcing you down and still— flush against him.

“Maxie, please,” you plead, trying to lift yourself to slam back down, but he’s like an anchor. Unmoving. Unyielding.

“Let me enjoy this,” he says, looking into your eyes, “You’re so fucking tight.”

Your walls clamp around him as a result of the way he’s speaking and taking charge. He kisses your jaw, trailing down till he feels your pulse point, thrumming against his lips.

Your body begs to go fast, to chase release, but for once in his life, Max decides to take it slow, savoring the moment before he’s swept away by responsibilities.

Max has memorized the feel of your arms around his shoulders, holding on tightly onto him a thousand times over. As well as the way your soft thighs encase his hips, or how your nails scrape his scalp as you pull on his hair. Yet, every moment he’s with you, he takes the time to memorize it once more to catch the little details like the smell of your new shampoo or the way the thin chain of your necklace feels on his wandering lips.

The necklace he gave you for your second anniversary. Wearing his initials around your neck would be difficult if the relationship were to remain a secret. So instead, he got you a dainty golden necklace with a small pendant with a sapphire—Max’s birthstone. In the back of the stone, where a layer of gold encased the stone, were his initials.

You haven’t taken it off since he gave it to you. The feel of the chain on his lips or his fingertips has become familiar and welcoming.

As Max plays with the chain, following it with his lips until he reaches the hollow of your throat, you grind on his lap, back and forth with the slight movement he allows. Your clit rubs against him, causing the skin between the two of you to become wet and slick.

“You’re so impatient,” Max scoffs, hands gripping your hips, guiding you up and down his cock in a slow and deep rhythm. He makes sure you don’t rush, causing shivers to go down your spine as you try to contain yourself.

You bite your lip and your fingers tangle in his damp hair as you tilt his face up to kiss him, desperate to release some of the pent-up sensations.

“Just like that. You’re doing so good,” Max says against your lips, increasing the pace. A hand squeezing your ass and landing a playful spank.

“And you say I’m the tease,” you whine.

“Two can play at that game,” he says in your ear, biting at your earlobe.

“Maxie,” you moan, nearing your orgasm. Knowing you well, Max pushes deeper and harder into you, reaching all the delicious spots inside of you and driving you to cum around him.

Your teeth nibble at his lip, biting down on it right before you cum. You share with Max soft moans and whimpers, your forehead bumping against his. It’s typical of you to go quieter when you cum, and he adores it as he’s the only one that gets to hear you that way.

Max follows right after you. The sensation of your pussy fluttering around him is addictive and intoxicating. It’s what got her pregnant in the first place.

There’s a stillness in the air as you compose yourselves. Your thighs shake and your tummy’s tight as you ride out your orgasm. Max’s forehead is against yours as you breathe the same air. Almost as if the other was the life source required to live.

You cup his jaw, feeling the stubble on your palms. It’s comforting both for you and Max. You kiss his cheeks tenderly. Max’s palms are planted on your skin, rubbing up and down your clammy back.

“Are you okay?” He finds himself asking. The ‘you’ in question includes you and the baby. Despite having an all-clear from the doctors, he can’t help but worry.

“Never better,” you reassure him. “I’m okay. We’re okay.”

His worry is both unreasonable and reasonable at the same time, but you can’t blame him. So much has happened that he’s used to expecting the unexpected. It’s hard to shake it off.

Melbourne, Australia | March 2025

Max's head is pressed against your shoulder as he sleeps. His soft breaths fanning your skin, it's a comfort you don't take for granted.

The clock on the nightstand tells you it's only ten minutes until you definitely have to get up. Extending your hand to turn off the alarm before it goes off, you decide to wake up Max in a gentler way. Your hand scratches at the light scruff of his beard, easing him awake from his deep sleep.

His circadian rhythm has been thrown for a loop. He got used to a new routine while being on break. You and Max spent it in Monaco, preparing for the arrival of your baby.

Now, in Australia for the first Grand Prix of the season, he's found himself in a deep sleep cycle when he's supposed to be almost awake.

Max sighs against your skin, the arm thrown around you holding you tighter as he stirs.

"It's time, Maxie," you quietly say into the dark room, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing. It's the first day of the new season, FP1 starts today in Melbourne, Australia.

Max groans, kissing your naked skin, nuzzling his nose into it, trying to shake the heaviness weighing his body.

"Morning, schatje."

He complains as you sit up, holding the sheets to you. He has no other choice but to follow your lead and sit up as well, rubbing his eyes.

"Are you ready for today?" Max questions you, his voice rough and deep.

While you clearly won't be racing, you've taken a job with F1 as an interviewer and occasional commentator. Staying at home alone while Max travels makes you nervous. You didn't want to stay at home doing nothing and waiting for things to happen. You needed an outlet.

It was the most reasonable and least suspicious option to take this job, so you could be with Max and distract yourself from the impending doom that keeps you up at night sometimes.

"I am so excited," you nod, stealing a kiss to his cheek before getting up and heading towards the bathroom. "And if you are too, you can join me in the shower."

Max takes a look at your naked, retreating body. All soft, smooth curves, including the baby bump that makes itself apparent with each passing day. There's no question, he follows you into the bathroom where the shower is running with warm water.

The paddock feels like home. It's uncanny to be here without the day-to-day stress of racing.

You and Max arrive in separate cars to avoid arousing any suspicion. There's paparazzi and reporters everywhere, taking pictures of the racers' outfits and asking questions.

You answer a couple of questions, pleasing them before further walking into the paddock and away from them. Max waits for you in the Red Bull Hospitality, wanting to tell you something before you're off doing who knows what.

"Be careful, please. If you get tired, you can come back here and rest. If your feet hurt, get them to get you a chair and remember to eat."

"I know, Maxie. Don't worry, we've been over this so many times," you say, rolling your eyes playfully.

He shoots you a pointed look before grabbing your waist and pulling you to him. "Promise me." Max points at you.

You nod and smile, "I promise I'll take care of myself and the baby. Now you promise you'll be careful out there."

"I promise," he agrees, dipping his head to steal a kiss.

And so, your work begins. They set you up in one of the tents outside where the drivers linger before FP1. Seeing as it's the first race of the season, all you gotta do is make small talk and ask them about their goals this year.

Interviewing is easy when you've been on the other side. It helps you ask better questions, as you know what to look for and ask, having been a racer yourself.

"Hi Carlos, it's nice to see you!" You say into the mic as Carlos Sainz stands next to you.

"Hey, congratulations," he says, referring to the baby bump that's starting to show.

"Why, thank you! Congratulations to you, too. I was thrilled when I heard the news that you would be taking my seat this year. I couldn't have thought of anyone better."

"Ah, thank you," Carlos smiles as a blush overtakes his cheeks, "It's an honor that they thought about me and they think I'll do a good enough job to take over while you're away."

"You'll be fantastic. How does the car feel this year? I know they made tons of changes," you continue in the interview.

The drivers come and go from your station as they switch with other interviewers and promo they have to film. Some interviews are shorter than others, and there are some that you know the fans will love. Max is one of the last to come through, taking the mic from Lando, with whom you had been giggling incessantly.

"Hello Max, Four Time World Champion, how was your winter break?"

"Wow, you brought out the whole title," Max gives a breathy laugh, raising his eyebrows at you.

"Now that I'm not competing, I can say it without problem," you cheekily respond, looking down at your cue cards before continuing with the interview. "So, how are you? Did you have any fun during break?"

Going back into work mode, Max holds the microphone nodding along, "Yeah, I'm doing good, had a calm Winter Break to recharge. Looking forward to the start of the season, the team has worked hard to make the appropriate adjustments to the car."

"Towards the end of last season, the McLarens showed that they are becoming more competitive and are in the run to take both championships home. Do you think Red Bull is prepared?"

"Nothing can be predicted in this sport. I have faith that my team will work their hardest so we can take the championship home."

"Wise words, Max," you smile, having finished with the questions written for you. They are stupid half of the time, but it's your job now to be the annoying reporter. "Anything else you'd like to say?"

"Um, well, just that I'm bummed you're not racing. You're always fun to race against." Max smiles at you cheekily.

"Aw, Max." Placing your hand on your chest, you act touched, "I'll be back eventually, so you can hand me that trophy properly."

Max rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to bite back when Charles claps his back and holds his shoulders, "Max, stop hogging her." He takes the mic from him so he can be interviewed, "It's my turn."

f1 posted a youtube video: The Princess interviews the Grid

thumbnail 📸: Cut out of you laughing with a mic in hand with a cutout of a blocked out driver.

user1: did i plan on watching this season without her? no. am i watching now that i know she’s doing all this? absolutely ✅

user2: look at the baby bump omg! i’m so happy for her, she’s glowing

-> user15: her husband got her good, that’s definitely a baby🤰

user3: can we acknowledge lewis looking after her and asking for a chair so she could sit 😮‍💨 sexy man right there

-> user4: 💪they might not be on the same team anymore but that bond will never be broken

user4: not charles interrupting her and max and taking over the interview

-> user5: typical charles cutting a cute moment short. he’s so jealous of his work wife talking to his boyfriend 🤭

user6: what about yuki looking shocked at the baby bump. did no one tell him?

-> user7: ikr, does he not use social media or watch the news? it’s everywhere

user8: max was looking at her with hearts in his eyes, he was so gentle when he hugged her

-> user9: stop shipping them together omg. they are not together. she is married. look at that bling. 💍💎

-> user10: leave them alone, if they want to ship let them be. it’s not hurting anybody.

-> user11: neither her nor max have said anything about the shipping if anything they laugh about it.

-> user17: that might as well be his child (wishful thinking)

user12: not max saying that he’s upset she’s not racing 😭😭

-> user13: okay but serious talk, did she lowkey tell him she wants him to win again so she can beat him once she’s back

-> user14: i was thinking the same thing! and she winked at him!

user22: let’s all appreciate how supportive she is of carlos

-> user25: that’s the thing about her she’s always been on carlos side when it comes to ferrari, rumors say she was the one to recommend him when they were picking reserve drivers

user81: not liam acting all shy around her. he's so got a crush on her 😂

-> user15: i swear i saw max glaring at him from afar. i will die on this hill

-> user57: oh come on, it's not like liam was flirting, he was just being a fanboy

->user81: tell max, not me 💀

Shanghai, China | March 2025

"Hello, everybody! We're here in Shanghai for the Chinese Grand Prix, and today I'll be searching for the drivers to play a little game of Never Have I Ever," you say into the camera. Your expression is more than enough to let the viewers know you aren't up to any good.

Typically, Formula One had different people handling various interviews and games with the drivers. By adding you to the mix, they gave you some freedom to participate in interviews, games, and other activities, as the fans love and want to see you interact with the others.

The fact that you know so much about the drivers personally helps them promote the season, as more and more people subscribe and follow their social media.

Today, they decided to try something new and play a game live.

You don't have to go far until you find your old teammate Lewis Hamilton. "Hey Lewis, up for a game of Never Have I Ever?"

Lewis looks like a deer caught in headlights. He looks at you first and then at the recording camera behind you. There's nothing he wants less. He knows you can be ruthless with your games when you put your mind to it. It makes him wonder if one of these days. "Oh, sure."

The cameraman gives you the thumbs up, and you hand Lewis the double-sided paddle. "Ready, Lewis?"

"Not really," he shakes his head with a poor excuse of a smile.

"Never Have I Ever, pressed on the gas instead of the brakes," you say with a glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you menace," he sighs, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

As you walk around the paddock, you talk with the viewers and greet all sorts of people visiting for the Grand Prix. You stop for a water break and grab the phone the company provided to read the live comments.

"A lot of people are asking for Max, Charles, and Carlos. I'll try to find them, their hospitality is in the back, so it's probably why we haven't stumbled upon them."

"Do I miss racing? Yes and no. Racing is part of my life, and I absolutely miss it, but I don't miss the intense training."

"Who is your husband? All I can tell you is that he's really hot and sexy." You look at the camera and tuck your hair behind your ear, giving them a mischievous glance before continuing your questions.

"Will you return to Ferrari after maternity leave? Who says I'm coming back to racing so soon?"

"Look behind me?" You turn to look behind you and find Max walking towards you. "Hello Max Verstappen. I'm on live playing Never Have I Ever, care to join us?" You pat the chair next to you, extending your hand so that the microphone is right in front of his face. You mostly did the dramatic entrance to let him know you're filming.

"Yeah, I was watching and felt left out," he says, sitting back with a Red Bull in hand. "Want a snack?"

In Max's hands are your favorite crackers and your current craving. He had no intentions of participating; he just wanted to make sure you were getting a snack. Sneaky.

"Is this bribery so I don't ask you anything embarrassing?" You ask, but grab the crackers to munch on.

"I have nothing to hide," Max leans back cockily, making you raise an eyebrow. This is not the behavior you need right now. The world can't see you hot and bothered.

"Very well," you sniff, handing him the paddle. Starting off tame, you ask him some of the questions you asked the others. Nothing crazy.

Max participates in answering and giving short explanations. Eventually, you're both in a fit of giggles as both recreate the weird sounds Daniel used to make.

"Okay, okay, never have I ever peed while on the car," you ask, raising an eyebrow in question while pursing your lips. You've had some of the others admit to it.

On your lap is the phone where thousands of comments are being submitted. The fans are living for this interaction.

"Only once or twice. It was during practice, and I was on a good run. I wanted to test the tyres myself and see the limits I could take before I had to change them. Getting out of the car meant the tyres would cool, so it was out of the question…" Max shrugs exaggeratedly at the end, implying where the story finishes.

You scrunch up your face in fake disgust, "Ew, that's nasty. I can't believe the gall of some drivers for doing that."

"You've done it too, haven't you?" He asks, holding back his laugh.

"Oh, yeah. Happened once," you say deadpan before both burst out laughing.

"I fucking knew it," Max cackles.

You try speaking through the tears in your eyes, and your stomach hurts from laughing so much. "I really, really had to go. It was during one of my first F1 races, and they told me it was going to be really hot, so I needed to hydrate, so I drank a lot of water."

Max almost dies in laughter, leaning forward, he nearly falls from the chair. "I never expected that from you-"

"I was supposed to take that secret to the grave," you calm down, cleaning your tears and looking to see if you ruined your mascara.

"I'm gonna go now and look for the Ferraris," you sigh, not looking at Max, knowing you'll laugh again. "You're terrible, Max."

The cameraman follows you out of the shade where you were lounging. Out of habit, Max says something you hope the microphone didn't catch. "See you later, schatje."

f1fanedits has posted a new tiktok: The eyes, Chico, they never lie...

description: video of max taken from one of your interviews. you're interviewing alex albon about scoring points and he's in the back staring longingly and absolutely in love. the video is zoomed in as the song margaret by lana del rey ft the bleachers play.

comments:

user67: i swear he didn't let her out of his sight. if she was in direct eyesight he was looking, and if she wasn't he'd actively look for her

-> user56: don't be delusional he was probably just waiting for his turn to interview -> user109: yeah cause he loves her @/user56 🙄😜

user505: fan girls are so fucking annoying. they are ruining the sport 🤬

-> user444: i’d say kindly fuck off but no just piss off! no one’s forcing you to watch 🖕🏼

->user476: i bet this is the type of guy who hates that the princess is an excellent driver

->user3: how are we ruining the sport? by making it more appealing and fun? 💁‍♀️

user456: she caught him staring once and the man BLUSHED and looked away! i promise you he wrote an entry in his diary 🫠 -> user098: charles will also be writing about betrayal user81: her husband better know how to fight 🤺 user1: alex felt max's presence behind him, poor boy forgot they are not in cars and panicked

-> user55: he'll need therapy

-> user876: lily will never stop hearing about this user98: do you think they just stage this sometimes knowing fans will go crazy with edits? 🤔

->user123: other artists? probably, but max? he would never subject himself to publicity stunts like that, especially if she's married to someone else user67: umm, did anyone notice it's been weeks since she's worn her wedding ring?

->user00: are you saying what i think you're saying?

->user67: divorce babe divorce

->user33: i swear i love the princess and only want the best for her but why did that actually make me excited 🤐

->user77: maybe we're not that delusional...

Saudi Arabia | April 2025

His hair is soft between your fingers, but his tongue is even softer. Max slides his tongue against yours, his hips pinning you to the bed as he hikes your leg to wrap around him.

He's grinding down on your center, prompting moans and groans to erupt from your throat. This was meant to be a kiss goodbye, a see you later if you will. Except, you were looking so beautiful sitting in bed, legs tucked under you as you stretched up to ask for a kiss.

Once his lips pressed on yours, he found himself unable to stop. Despite your initial hesitancy because you had to get ready for work, you ended up caving in.

Max is delicious. He tastes good, smells fantastic, his body is toned from hours of hard training, and he is warm and inviting. You are addicted to his very being, to pull away from him would be like undergoing withdrawal.

Neither of you should let this escalate, or else you'll be late to the paddock. Yet you couldn't resist pulling him closer, tugging on his blonde hair, and squeezing his back and arms to feel the firm muscle covering his pale skin.

His touch leaves a blazing fire on your skin as he slides his hand under your shirt, raking up the sides with his nails just enough to earn a reaction.

You whine against his lips and arch your back. Not that it matters, as he continues to chase after another kiss. Wet lips finding your cheeks and neck.

"I could do this forever." His groan is near orgasmic. Max's pace slows, allowing you to breathe and find clarity for a millisecond.

Max is not exaggerating. Making out with you is one of his favorite things ever. He recalls all those moments in hotel rooms and hidden corners in the paddock where he's had you pressed against him, flushed and begging for more, knowing it's not possible.

It's the way you melt into his touch, not necessarily submitting to him but giving Max your all.

"I have to go to work," you breathe heavily, too aware of his sneaky hand nearing your chest or how he presses his hips harder on you. The material of his jeans scratches your bare thighs.

"Quit, I'll provide for us."

You don't have the bandwidth to figure out if he's joking or not because, quite frankly, there's not a drop of humor in his voice.

A giggle erupts from your lips when his fingers tickle your sides. Now that the intensity of your make-out session has lessened, you're more sensitive to tickling. "It's not about providing, it's about boredom."

That certainly caught Max's attention. "So you're bored of me, is that what it is?"

Laughing at his incredulous expression, you grab his face in your hands and kiss all over it. "I'll never be bored of you, my love. We do have to go, you can't provide without a job."

"I can't leave like this, schatje," Max says, taking your hand and guiding it to his cock that strains against the stiff fabric. The tightness of his jeans doesn't help the situation, keeping him on edge.

"You need help?" You ask softly, fiddling with the button of his jeans. Hooking a finger on the band, you tug on it playfully.

Max nods as he is short of air, watching you bite your swollen lip. Your cheeks flushed with arousal, and your hair messy. He loves this view of you, disheveled and under him. He doesn't realize he's mirroring you. Messy hair, swollen lips, flushed complexion.

You lift your head from the bed until your lips brush against his, "Win today's race. Get P1 and I'll help you all night long, Maxie."

With one last chaste kiss, you pull away. You flutter your eyelashes at Max and softly push him away until he drops himself on the bed next to you. "You're the worst."

"I have to get dressed. You have to go, I'm sure they're waiting for you to debrief."

Max groans and sighs, squeezing himself through his jeans to calm his situation. You catch the action and gasp, almost losing your bearings.

He closes his eyes to think about anything else. Not your beautiful face. Not your naked body tangled with his. Not the way your cunt tastes. Not the way you moan his name.

You're a fucking tease. He could rub one out and come quickly while you're in the bathroom. It's tempting, but he's intrigued by your offer. It'll give him an edge on the race. Enough to overtake Oscar in the McLaren.

When you walk out of the bedroom, dressed and ready to go, Max is gone. You sit on the bed to put on your shoes when a notification comes through.

f1_news: Lewis Hamilton signs with Ferrari for the 2026 season.

"What the fuck?" You say out loud as you read through the article.

Ferrari, your supposed team, didn't fucking think to let you know they'd be dropping you next season. Yes, your situation is uncertain, but it doesn't take away from the fact that they didn't tell you. Lewis, your former teammate, who you are close to, didn't tell you.

You don't question Charles' stance within the team; he's the predestined one. Ferrari won't give up that brand.

What about Carlos? He was performing at the same level as Charles, maybe better.

For a moment, you're glad you're not part of the grid. No one can force you to answer questions about this apparent betrayal.

Grabbing your pass, you head down to the lobby where your driver waits for you.

They shouldn't have dropped the news today. There was a special segment today, and they've ruined it for you.

The reporters swarm around you when you arrive. They shoot question after question, buzzing to be the ones to get a reaction out of you.

You don't speak, but a picture says a million words. You're furious and upset. The only reason you're not crying is because your hormones have decided anger is the way to go.

Your phone buzzes, and the contact 'Lovie' lights up the screen. It's just Max messaging you to ask if you saw the news. Your response is short and to the point. You'll talk to him later.

In the dressing room assigned to you, your Ferrari uniform hangs, prepped and steamed for today's set of interviews. Not only would you be conducting your regular interviews, but you'll also be interviewing the men who have been F1 drivers in the past, sort of like a homage to reminisce on the old days.

It was supposed to be fun to dress up in your uniform. Other past Formula 1 drivers who work in the paddock would be doing the same. Now it's a sick joke, you'll have to suck it up.

Your skin crawls as you wear your fireproofs and step into the overalls. You keep the zipper open since your showing belly doesn't allow you to close it without being uncomfortable.

Walking out to the area designated for the media, you avoid anything and everyone, especially Ferrari. They owe you explanations you don't want to listen to at the moment.

The cameraman has set up and is ready to film. He hands you the microphones with the F1 logo as the first person scheduled steps in.

You try to act normal. Keyword: try. Everyone knows, though, it's in the set of your eyebrows or how you don't try to laugh when something's not really funny. It's the way your smile doesn't reach your eyes.

"Hey," Carlos says, approaching you when you take your break. You're sitting in the corner, Coke Zero in hand and two packets of cookies on the table. You would've chosen regular Coke, but you had to watch your sugar intake. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," you mutter, leaning back on the chair. "Want to start with the fact we both got fired?"

Carlos groans and falls on one of the chairs. He leans his head back and rakes his fingers through his hair. He's dressed in Ferrari gear, the same as you. "Technically, you did."

You laugh half heartedly because it's true. Carlos was always meant to be a placeholder for you. He's the reserve driver. "Did you know?"

"No, I had no idea," he shakes his head, stealing a cookie from you. "Fred told me this morning when I got to the paddock. I'm sorry this happened."

"It's not your fault, Carlos. I don't blame anyone. This is how Formula 1 is. What I'm upset about is how neither Vasser nor Lewis had the decency to tell me about the change. I had to learn from a news outlet. It's humiliating." Angry tears burn your eyes, but you hold them back.

Carlos shuffles closer and hugs you, rubbing your back comfortingly. "Everyone knows they're the ones who will look bad about firing you."

Ferrari just fired one of their best drivers while she's on maternity leave. Not a good look for the brand.

"Will you still be the reserve driver next year?" You ask him, pulling away from the hug.

"He wants me to stay as the reserve driver, but if another team is willing to sign me…" If another team signs him, he'll leave Ferrari. Being a reserve driver isn't exactly fun or exciting. You're just a backup.

"To think I almost won them the Championship last year," you sigh, crumpling the wrapper of your cookies. Crumbs left on the table.

"I don't think it would've made much of a difference," Carlos responds honestly.

You're not Lewis Hamilton. You're you. You've won podiums but not any Championships. You're a fantastic driver, but not a legend quite yet.

"Let's go to dinner tonight. My treat since you'll be unemployed next year," Carlos jokes with a grin to cheer you up.

"Be ready to splurge," you say, wiggling your eyebrows. "Lucky I can't drink or I would've ordered the most expensive wine bottle."

"Last time we did that, it tasted like dirt."

Halfway through the day, you walk around the paddock to pass the time. Max is approaching from the opposite direction and does a double-take. He had no idea about the uniform.

He catches himself as his mouth parts in genuine surprise and awe. As a racer, he's always loved being able to see you in proper F1 attire. Out of the whole grid, you wore it best, and this time around, it is no exception.

The top part of the overalls is around your waist. You got warm during your interviews; it was the natural way to go. The fireproofs taught around your round belly almost made him go feral.

You topped it all off with two plaits hanging over your chest. His eyes naturally trail down to stare at the roundness of your boobs.

"Sorry, man," Max apologizes when he shoulders a team member walking close to him. He's completely distracted by the smile you shoot him.

Standing in front of you, he looks around for any reporters, finding none. He then says, "You look fucking hot."

"Why thank you, handsome," you shrug, batting your eyelashes at him.

"If we weren't in public, I'd be bending you over and…"

"Mate, she's already pregnant, give her a break!" Lando pats him on the shoulder humorously. Max glares at him before rolling his eyes and shrugging his hand off his shoulder.

"Why do you always have to interrupt?"

"It's my job to keep you guys a secret," Lando smiles proudly, wrapping each arm around your shoulders. "You sure you're supposed to be wearing that, Princess? I heard you got fired."

You're about to punch Lando on the side when you scrunch up your face and stop all movements. Lando braces for impact and closes his eyes when he doesn't feel anything. He peeks an eye open to find you smiling. "Why are you smiling?"

"The baby kicked," you beam at the two men, placing your hand where you felt the kick.

The baby has been doing that a lot recently; it's reassuring. It helps ease the worries that keep you up at night. You've caught Max with his hand on your belly at night, feeling the baby move while you sleep. He's not as vocal about his fear of losing another baby, you have enough of that.

"He what?" Lando blanches, taking a step back as if you're diseased.

"Here feel!" You grab Lando's hand and force it where the baby has been kicking.

"What the actual fuck?" Lando widens his eyes comically. "That thing is moving inside you."

Max rolls his eyes and offers his hand to you. He's being discreet about touching you in public. "Wow, Lando, you have a way with words?"

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?" Lando asks, entertained by the baby growing inside of you.

"Not yet, it'll be a surprise," you shake your head.

Max agreed that keeping it a surprise until the baby was born was a better idea. He doesn't have a preference for the baby's gender. As long as it's born healthy, he's happy.

"The media is going to have a field day with us here," Lando says as he waves at the cameras with a big, open-mouthed smile.

instagram: racer_princess has posted a picture

racer_princess dinner with my favorite ferrari boy ❤️ here's to being unemployed and shitty wine (as per carlos)

comments:

@/carlossainz55: dinner with you is always fun, looking forward to next time! racer_princess has liked this post

user55: have we been bamboozled?

-> user007: should we have been worried about carlos this whole time?

->user66: i mean...it kind of tracks?

user77: love this so much!! 😭

user98: have we been fools? all this time max was a simple decoy?! 😵‍💫

->user99: nah, i still thinks its just max and this is a simple friendship forged through hardship

->user1: talk about poetic

user81: okay hold up, she is going through a divorce and dating carlos? i disappeared for a couple weeks and now i'm lost 😅

-> user44: haha no, there's rumors that she's getting a divorce cause she's not using her ring. and this i'm guessing is a friendly dinner to bitch about ferrari being sucky to them

user65: you know what? hell yeah, let him raise the child as his own! ✊

->user43: facts. princess is a catch pregnant or not racer_princess has liked this post

->user43: wait, is this confirmation?

->user81: don't leave princess!!! 🛑tell us!!!

@/lando: an invite would've been nice 🙂

->@/racer_princess: we were trauma dumping leave us alone

user25: honestly they should be teammates next season

->user00: yeah carlos needs to be appreciated more than ferrari does

->user22: they'd be a menace

->user11: their team could be called microsoft menaces

->@/racer_princess: Princess Chili Micro Menaces TM, i like it

-> userABC: charles must be gagged with this

user777: ferrari fumbled the both of you, they will live to regret it. mark my words ✍️

Monaco | May 2025

You sit on the balcony, sipping tea early in the morning. You're back home for a couple of weeks for the Monaco race. You haven't been around the paddock much, taking the time to reorganize the nursery since you already had most of the things you needed.

It felt surreal to walk back into the room. Some of the furniture and decorations are still in the bags they were purchased in long ago. Neither you or Max went into the room much, it used to bring so much pain, but slowly it's been filled with hope and joy.

Max slides the glass door open, and the wind is quick to ruffle his hair. He's been letting it grow longer, and you're not complaining. It's the way it stands in all directions when he's finished racing that has you going feral. You could jump his bones right where he stands.

Max sits next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple. You cuddle up against him, watching the sunrise and feeling his steady breathing.

"I got something for you," Max says, catching your attention.

You pick up your head from his chest and look down at his hand, where a black velvet box is clutched in his fingers. "Oh?"

"I know you stopped wearing your wedding and engagement ring because your hands are swelling, so I got you another one."

Max opens the box to reveal a gorgeous ring with a gold band and a big marquise diamond. It's a simple design but stunning nonetheless. There's a second band with sapphires encrusted in the gold. Max's birthstone, to match the necklace.

"Hope it fits," you nervously mention as Max takes the rings out of the box and slips them onto your finger. The pale band around your finger has been fading since you can't wear your old jewelry. You sigh in relief when the ring fits. Max brings up your hand to kiss the back of it, smiling because of how happy his gift made you.

"Be honest…did you get me a new one because people were shipping me with Carlos?"

"Please, the fans have shipped you with the whole grid already. Just yesterday, there were edits of you and Nico floating around," Max tells you, kissing your cheek. He hovers over your ear and whispers, "I do, however, don't like the fact people are speculating you've gotten divorced."

"I'm never getting rid of you," you tell him, gripping his chin, "Not only am I pregnant with your child, but I love you too much to let you go."

"As it should be."

instagram: racer_princess has posted a picture

racer_princess yes, i am in fact, married still... 👰‍♀️ and i'd marry him again

comments:

@/lilymhe: let's go on a double date again!

-> @/racer_princess: i will free up my agenda for you lily! we can go on our own, leave the men to fend for themselves! 💃

-> @/lilymhe: see you soon, lovely! 🤍

-> user333: i can see how instagram can be considered social now...where can i get friends like her and lily ?

-> user626: so what you're saying is everyone in the paddock knows who he is...and no one has slipped? 🤔💭

-> userTM: i sincerely believe some people must've been paid off. there's no possible way none of them haven't babbled to the wrong person.

-> @/racer_princess: whoever babbles has to pay for the NDA 💗

user121: my god that ring is huge! 👀 is he compensating for something else?

->user77: it's bigger than her older one, where can i get a man like that?

->user5: maybe it's a push present?

@/yukitsunoda0511: wait you're getting married again?

->user89: how is he always confused when it comes to social media lol? 🤣

-> @/racer_princess: no baby, just got a new ring because the old one was too tight

@/charles_leclerc: is your hand heavy?

->user44: why do i have a feeling you'd know?

->user00: don't act all nonchalant charles, we know it's you 😄

->user098: can't be him...he wouldn't have let them replace her in ferrari. if he was my husband i'd divorce him

->userAB: it's not like he owns the team, maybe the ring is his apology 🤷

-> PrincessChili: that's something someone who wants to hold your hand would say

userM.A.X: max has been awfully quiet, no?

f1edits has posted a new tiktok:

she could have them all if she wanted. Everyone bow down to the princess 👸

description: a compilation of pictures of you and the drivers (including toto wolff) from the grid while ‘i like him by princess nokia plays.’

comments:

1user: oh to be her in the grid constantly surrounded by hot sexy men 🤤 she’s living the dream

-> usersos: i wouldn’t get any work done, it’s why im not there

-> user101: it only works for her cause she’s so confident and sure of herself. she’s worked hard to be there ain’t no man taking her down

userpt: i love how delusional we are. we truly can ship her with anyone

-> user1: anyone except her husband which we know nothing about

-> user2: we know he’s loaded…her wedding rings are huge and real and expensive and he either spoils her to keep her happy or truly loves her

->lalauser: *nods* uhum uhum probably both. i dont think she’d stay if he didn’t treat her right

user<3: how many of them do you think she’s kissed in celebratory nights?

-> userusa: my theory is at least three of them: max, charles, lewis

-> useruk: is it insane of me to say max, charles and toto?

-> userusa: yes but i respect the level of crazy

Barcelona, Spain | June 2025

The air chills your skin as you wander around the paddock. You're waiting for Max to be done so you can return to the hotel room for the night and order room service.

You could have gone back hours ago, but you decided to stay and work on interview material and socialize with the teams.

Fred Vasser finally had a conversation with you about his decision to bring Lewis into Ferrari to give him a shot at winning another Championship. You didn't have much to say; what's done is done.

It's not like you haven't been the closest racer in years to give Ferrari a Championship. This is more than just having Lewis on board, it's the uncertainty of your return.

Lewis apologized as well. He failed to realize they would announce it immediately; otherwise, he would have told you during the negotiations.

A windy breeze has you tugging your jacket close. You bring both edges together to zip it up, but you're unsuccessful. Your pregnant belly doesn't let you see properly, and the hook keeps getting stuck.

After a minute of intense attempts, you give up, still cold and out of breath from seemingly nothing. The first two trimesters were good to you, the third not so much.

You can't seem to get comfortable to sleep, your feet are dramatically swollen, you're out of breath, and you're constantly having to pee.

Not to mention, Max has to help you put on your shoes. It’s lowkey embarrassing. He likes doing it, and he's willing to help you in whichever way you need. It's the least he can do. It’s his fault you’re this way.

It's annoying, but you'd rather go through all the discomfort to have the experience of carrying a child and giving birth.

Giving up, you continue to roam, taking pictures with a few fans that still linger, hoping to catch sight of the drivers or famous guests. You're on your phone, walking without seeing where you're going, when you bump into someone. Looking up, Max holds your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Hey," you smile at him.

"Hey," Max responds similarly, holding back the urge to kiss your cheek. After years of being in a secret relationship, he's not used to these recurring urges, catching himself in the act before he goes for it.

You shiver when another breeze ruffles your hair. Max looks disapprovingly at you but gets closer to hold both ends of your jacket to line the zipper and pull it up. He brushes invisible lint from your shoulders and pats your head.

That's as much affection he's willing to show in public. He hates that he can't show the world how much he loves you, but at the same time, he loves being able to show you every day and every moment you two are alone.

It makes every touch, every kiss, every hug so much more special. He never takes it for granted.

"My hero," you say, rocking on your heels.

"Ready to go home, schatje?"

He's done with media, cars, and strategy. Max wants to go to the hotel and just be with you. Order food and eat in bed even if you lowkey hate it. Listen to you rant about 'New Girl' and how Jess should've ended up with the British guy you never remember the name of.

"There's a steak I've been eying on the menu," you say as you walk side by side to the private parking lot.

"Whatever you want…" Max says, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and kissing your temple.

He's not always successful. Especially not when you're acting cute and cuddly with him.

F1_news tweeted: enemies, friends, lovers, rivals? we don't know, what we do know is that red bull's driver Max Verstappen was seen leaving the paddock with the paddock's Princess last night.

comments:

101user: oh, wow, a coworker giving a ride to the opposite sex coworker, riveting 🙄 user45: idk guys, it's one thing for us fans to speculate but f1? 🧐suspicious -> user98: how suspicious of max to give his pregnant friend a ride. come on guys, this is nothing. he's being a decent guy ����‍♀️ ->user007: or we've been right this whole time and they are together 🤩 ->user66: or it's all a publicity stunt

f1fanatic: has somebody investigated if they always stay in the same hotel?

secretf1: my editing program is loading

mclarenbabe: i’ll be waiting. i’m subscribed and sat 🤓

redbullprincess: now kith

Quebec, Canada | June 2025

It’s race day, and you’re tired, grumpy, and warm. The hand fan does nothing to cool you down or tone down your irritation.

With free time on your hands, you head down to the Red Bull hospitality to catch Max before the race starts. You knock on his door before entering and find him getting dressed. Max is only in his underwear, and you wish you were in the same state of undress.

“Hey baby,” you say, approaching him and getting on your tippy toes to kiss him.

Max grabs your waist, pulling you to him. It’s a brief kiss, but it doesn’t fail to make the butterflies in your stomach flutter like crazy.

He rubs your tummy as he kisses all over your face, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m tired and the heat doesn’t help,” you sigh, plopping down on the couch while he finishes getting dressed.

First his socks, then the fireproofs, then the overalls, which he leaves hanging on his hips. Max sits next to you, and you take the opportunity to brush his hair with your fingers.

He hasn’t cut it since you told him you liked that he was growing it out. The pictures after the races do not disappoint. You smile and scratch at his stubble.

Max sighs and leans into your touch, pressing his lips to your palm. “Go back to the hotel. It’s supposed to rain. I don’t want you to get sick.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ll power through it and come back here if it rains.”

Max sighs, not wanting to say what he has to say. You’ll get upset, and he knows it. “You should get back to the hotel. Please. It’s not good to tire yourself out.”

You scoff lightly to diffuse the mood, “I’m okay, Max. Don’t worry, I’m not a doll that needs to be behind a glass case,”

“You’re not a doll. You’re pregnant and you’ve been overworking yourself. Go to the hotel, order food, get a massage, and rest. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You stay quiet. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared,” you hesitantly admit.

“Of what?”

“I-I don’t know. I start to overthink and get overwhelmed. We’ve come this far, and I’m afraid if I stand too still, it’ll all go away,” you refer to two years ago, when you took a break from racing and stayed too long at the house. Hoping. Grieving.

Max hugs you tight, and you hold just as tightly, smelling the detergent on his uniform.

“You know what happened was out of your control. Whether you had been resting or working hard, it would’ve happened; this is different. You’re nearly there and you’ll need the rest for when the time comes, right?” He asks just as the baby kicks. “They agree,”

“If you really don’t want to go to the hotel, then stay here. There’s food and snacks, and you can watch on the TV. Put your feet up, take a nap if you want.”

“You’re the best, Maxie.”

“I’m my best because I get to love you,” he says, cupping your cheek.

You sniff and nod, lightly pushing, “Go get them, tiger, I’ll be rooting for you.”

When Max finishes the race and heads to his driver's room, you’re gone, having left a note that you’re back at the hotel.

When he enters the room, you’re dead asleep. Large t-shirt and messy hair included. The sheen covering your skin proves that you took him up on the massage option.

Max changes, having showered in the paddock, and gets into bed with you. You’re facing him, soft breaths coming from your lips. He kisses your cheek and feels the baby kick.

“You’re almost here, just a couple more weeks. Be good to your mom, yeah?”

“Be good to your wife and cuddle me,” you murmur, shuffling closer, knowing well you’ll push him away at night cause you’re hot.

Monaco | July 2025

The time finally came for you to stay at home with no travel as your third trimester draws to an end. With that also comes the time for a baby shower!

Max helped you plan a lovely celebration on a rooftop with a view of the sea. Initially, you wanted it to be on a yacht, where it's more private, but recently you've been getting progressively seasick — and car sick.

It's been kept a secret from all forms of media, and the guests know better than to utter a word about your baby shower.

In your Monaco home, you get ready for the day, showering, applying body oils, doing your own hair and makeup. It's meant to be a family celebration, not an A-list event.

Max stands by the door watching you with adoring eyes. For once, he's not wearing any Red Bull gear, just a nice pair of trousers and a loose button-up to fit the beach vibe you were going for.

The satin robe that threatens to fall down your left arm catches his attention. He approaches you, leaning down to where you sit to kiss your naked shoulder before he fixes the robe. "You look beautiful."

You smile and shake your head, continuing to curl your hair, half of which is pinned up to set the curls. "I'm almost done here, but I'll need your help to zip up the dress and-"

"-put on your shoes, I know schatje," he says, burying his head in your neck, being careful of the pins in your hair. He takes in the smell of your perfume as addictive as the first time he smelled it.

"If I could do it myself without it being so hard, I would," you say with a pout, reaching over to him to scratch his jaw. He loves when you do that.

"Never think it's a burden on me," Max levels with you, his blue eyes finding yours in the mirror. "I want to help you in every way I can. If you want me to tuck you in at night and sing you a lullaby, I will."

"Okay," you whisper, biting your lip.

Max kisses your cheek, disappearing into another room, probably to spend time with the cats while you finish with your hair, because if he keeps staring, you'll be late to the baby shower.

Later, you call for Max, standing from the vanity to grab your dress from where it hangs. It's a pretty pink nude dress that keeps the color palette soft and neutral. Max grabs it from your hands, unzipping the back, and then kneels on the floor to get it over your legs. You hold onto his shoulders for support.

You put your arms through the sleeves and hold them to your chest as Max comes behind you to zip it. He does it easily, but not before leaving wet kisses along your spine that make you shiver. "Max," you warn him.

"Sorry, sorry," he laughs breathily in your ear.

"We know you're really not," you huff with a disapproving smile.

"I'm not." He smoothly hugs you from behind, cupping his hands under your belly to help you with the weight. You let out a shaky sigh of relief. Your lower back has been killing you for the last two weeks.

"Thank you."

He saw it online while searching for ways to support you throughout your pregnancy. Somehow, he always knows when you need it most. To him, it's obvious, it's in the way you tensely walk and think twice before picking something up that isn't within arm's reach. You're too stubborn to ask for help, so he's resorted to watching every move you make.

"Alright, let's get this party started," you exclaim two minutes later. Excited to celebrate the arrival of your baby.

Max drives you to the baby shower in one of the few expensive SUVs he owns, prioritizing your comfort and the possibility of you giving birth at any given moment.

There are multiple baby bags across the house and in the cars.

The rooftop is beautifully decorated with neutral colors, including browns, soft pinks, and baby blues. The theme is beachy, featuring surfboards, palm trees, and sand. The photographer you hired is ready to take couples and solo pictures as guests start trickling in.

The whole grid has been invited along with their families. Most are able to make it to the special occasion. Max's family and yours also traveled to be there.

Other team members from Red Bull, Mercedes, and Ferrari have been invited. You spend so much time with them while working that they inevitably become family.

Toto and Susie Wolff come with armfuls of gifts, ready to spoil you. Toto always supported your choice of joining Ferrari because even if they haven't won a Championship in a while, they are a legacy team. To say you've driven for Ferrari is an honor, and he still had Lewis at the time.

Games are played, food is eaten, drinks are served, and a good time is spent. Lando, above all, parties till he drops. Unsurprisingly, because Daniel enables him. No one will forget that George is the fastest to drink from the baby bottle, Lance is the one who has your exact measurement, and Lily is the one who comes closest to getting the exact number of mini rubber ducks in the glass jar.

Towards the later part of the celebration, you sit on Max's lap, shoes off and curls nonexistent. His hand is rubbing your thigh as he laughs with Daniel, a bottle of Alcohol Free Heineken in hand. He chose not to drink during your pregnancy.

When the song 'Gimme! Gimme! Gimme!' by ABBA starts playing, and you quite literally jump from Max's lap.

"Is there a man out there? Someone to hear my prayer?" You sing, pulling on Max's hand to get him to stand and follow you to the dance floor.

You dance with Max, his hands on your hips as you sway and jump to the music. Your hands gripping his shoulders as you sing to the catchy rhythm. Max twirls you and sways with you to the whole ABBA set that the DJ plays as per your request.

As the night comes to an end, the songs slow down. You sway in Max's arms to 'I Have A Dream', the Amanda Seyfried version you love so much. String lights cast a warm glow over you.

Max swears there are stars in your eyes. Your lips softly singing to the tune he's memorized ten times over. There's a smile on your face, your fingertips playing with the ends of his hair.

The fact is, the stars that reflect in your eyes are his as well. Everyone around the couple can see how in love they are. Max has never felt this way; his heart is swollen with so much emotion that it might burst. Your pregnant belly pressing against him brings him unimaginable joy.

He rests his head on top of yours, giving it a kiss. He closes his eyes to memorize everything about this moment. The bugs chirping in the background, the hum of the speakers, one of your hands on his back, the hair scratching his cheek, your voice singing to him.

leaky_f1 tweeted: BREAKING: Max Verstappen and the Paddock Princess are secretly MARRIED—and expecting a baby! 💍🍼 Photos from a private baby shower held two days ago have been leaked 👀📸 A close source commented: “Everyone in the paddock knew… they just weren’t saying anything.”

description: one picture of you and max in front of the balloon arch, max's holding you from behind. a decorated sign propped up on an easel besides you 'Sea You Soon, Baby Verstappen' another picture after dinner of you cuddling on max's lap, the third a video of you and max slow dancing comments:

@/Princess_Verstappen: 😤 a lot of people owe me apologies for making me think i was crazy

@/fast_furious: i TOLD ya but nooo he didn't call her a pet name you just heard wrong ✋

@/user2: this isn't right, its all fun to ship them together but i never wanted them to get leaked like this 😰😓

-> @/user1: it even feels wrong to read the article and look at the pictures, this is such an invasion of privacy

-> @/paddyp: i hope she's okay, this stress can't be good

@/4alliknow: lol he got her knocked up so he could win last years championship 😂

-> @/princessdefender: you're such a vile person, max is ruthless on track, not outside of it. he'd never do that

-> @/f1fu: reporting this comment cause wtf

@/princess-predestinado: congrats to max and princess *proceeds to have a meltdown because part of her personality has been trashed by reality* 🙃

@/recordscratch: i know knews like this are bad but props to them for keeping it secret for so long. yes, we had theories but for me it was always just fun and not serious 🙂‍↕️

-> @user4: yeah, haha, same here, all for fun 👀😅

@/sucks2bu: i bet he's the only reason she got this far 👎

tweet has been deleted

user has been suspended

Part 3 Coming Soon

The world now knows of your involvement with Max and the fact you've kept it secret for five years. Now, you must face the public but not before theories start to arise and Max gets hate. Your baby is coming but where is Max? Perhaps a podcast will be the perfect way to explain everything?

Tag list for Oh,Baby | Max Verstappen: @rawr-123s-stuff @seonghwaexile @azestar12334 @anilovessadbooks @fangirlforever2000 @hc-dutch @sonichkkaaascreams @neferaskingdom @aleatorio1234 @pookynknowntranger @kyoeina @sleutherclaw @madelynn-sienna @zen00016 @amberpanda99 @xjval @1-of-my-many-obsessions @milkysoop @shimmermotorsport @moonstruck-poet @multifan-idk @weekendlusting @magical-spit @oiiiiiijhhhvcfxc @cmgmikealson @prongsrckwell @mellowarcadefun @czennieszn @formula1fordisaster @lanadelray1989 @lovestruck-sky @scvderianat @glow-ish @llando4norris @lilyxx04 @evermoresivy @everydayimagineer @rosiemain @freyathehuntress @stereading @aleatorio1234 @sealsposts @itsmytimetoodream @f1allymgp @chc1025 @maximuminfluencerstarlight @xoxomansee @sealsposts @bay-marvel @fucking-life2442 @mimisweetz @pourmercymercy0nme @stampiej @recs268 @hellsingalucard18 @glitterquadricorn

[sukunahs]

to distant lands - ch.7: all yours | ryomen sukuna

pairing: ryomen sukuna x fem!reader (medieval fantasy au)

summary: ryomen sukuna, your father's favourite knight, has been assigned as your personal guard. You find that your dislike of him slowly develops into something else as he tangles himself in your life in ways you never could've expected.

word count: 11.7k

chapter content: 18+ mdni, smut, princess!reader, enemies to lovers, slow-burn(ish), forbidden relationship, medieval fantasy setting, protective sukuna, angst, fluff, anxiety, parental neglect, injury, blow job, cunnilingus, piv sex, yearning, sukuna is down soooo bad

authors note: this chapter is a bit slower than the last few! hope you enjoy some (mostly!) fluff while I let them be happy for a little bit hehe

series masterlist | AO3 | chapter one | previous chapter (six) | next chapter (eight) (coming soon)

Sukuna’s eyes fluttered open to light streaming in through the window of his cabin. He didn’t want to be awake yet, his body still exhausted from the last twenty-four hours of travelling and fighting, the adrenaline of the previous day just now starting to wear off. 

Not that any of that mattered to him now, because the outcome of his hellish day had been thoroughly worth it. All that suffering had led him to this moment - you, all curled up in his arms, hair flayed out on the pillow, lips slightly parted as you slept beside him peacefully. 

It was a sight that made his heart yearn. A sight that he’d been denying himself for so long, only to feel like he’d been blessed by the gods themselves now that he’d finally given in. 

He should’ve just given in weeks ago - back when he kissed you in the garden. He’d known even then that he wasn’t going to get over you with time or distance, but he’d been so hung up on the idea that he was doing what was best for you. Staying away to keep you from falling into a relationship with him that would just cause you both pain. 

What a foolish notion that had been, because maybe if he’d just given in back then you wouldn’t have blood smeared all over your cheek right now, perhaps he would’ve managed to keep you from any harm at all. His desire to keep you from suffering had ultimately been the cause of it. 

But it did him no good to think like that. You’d already made it abundantly clear that wasn’t how you saw it, so why should he punish himself? You were in his arms now and that was all that mattered. He wasn’t about to go and fuck it all up by not being able to move past his guilt. 

Gently he brought his lips to your head, softly kissing your hair, moving down to your forehead and then pressing his lips softly against yours, heart racing a little as he felt you sleepily kiss him back, your pretty eyes fluttering open and looking up at him like he meant everything to you. 

Fuck. He loved seeing you look up at him like that. Needed more of it. 

“Sukuna.” Your voice was a little raspy with sleep, and you brought your hands up to rub tiredly at your eyes. You were a little less put together than usual, the dark circles under your eyes and messy hair serving as a reminder of the difficult night that you’d had. 

“Morning princess.” He responded, his hand moving tenderly along your back, not missing the way that a happy little shudder seemed to run through you at the sensation. 

“I was worried it might’ve all been a dream.” You confessed quietly as your fingers went to his chest, tracing along the lines of his tattoos, your head bent a little in what he could only assume was embarrassment. 

Your concern was almost amusing to him, because he’d had the exact same fear. When sleep had finally found him after he’d made love to you last night, he’d been afraid to let it take him, terrified that he’d jolt awake a few hours later without you by his side. 

But even the gods weren’t that cruel. 

Rather than responding to your statement, he gently hooked his finger underneath your chin, tilting your face up to look at him for a moment before leaning in and kissing you again. It was a slow, deep kiss, his tongue lapping softly at your lips as he pulled you firmly against him. 

If he had it his way, he’d fuck you again right now. Sink right back into your warmth and show you just how much you meant to him. How real this was. His cock was already achingly hard with the need to have you like that again. 

But he hadn’t lost his mind entirely to lust just yet. 

You were still technically a missing princess as far as the Kingdom was aware, and he wasn’t the only one out in the forests searching for you. As much as he wanted to keep you all for himself in this pleasant bubble for a little longer, it wasn’t fair on those who were anxiously awaiting your return. 

He’d have plenty of time to make you feel good in your own chambers once he’d brought you back to the castle. Although, the thought of having to face Kashimo after thoroughly deflowering his daughter made his stomach churn. 

“We have to get going, baby.” Sukuna said as he reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, liking the way that you followed him forward on instinct as he moved back, as though you were desperate for more. 

“Right now?” You asked, that pout that he liked so much blooming across your face. “Can’t we stay a little longer?” 

“I’m committing treason for you, princess. I’m not keen on one of the other Knights stumbling across us here and getting me executed on day one.” He reasoned. 

He hoped that you didn’t fight back too much - saying no to you had grown increasingly difficult for him lately. If you begged him to stay here longer he probably wouldn’t have the will to really deny you. 

You sighed, but his words seemed to resonate with you, because reluctantly you pushed yourself into a sitting position, the furs falling from your shoulders as you did so. Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at you, your bare body even more beautiful to him now that he was seeing it in the light of day. 

A blush covered your cheeks instantly as you noticed that he was looking, and you scrambled to cover yourself up once more. He let out a low chuckle at your reaction - considering that he’d seen everything last night, your continuing obsession with modesty was cute. Part of being a princess, he supposed. 

“Aw, didn’t realise you were so shy.” He teased. The comment seemingly grating on your nerves as you shot him an incredulous glare. 

“Sorry, I’m not a whore like you.” You replied quickly, and he let out a booming laugh, very relieved that you seemed to have gotten your claws back. 

Between your cloudy disposition over the last few weeks and the way you’d been so despondent when he’d rescued you from Mahito, there was a part of him that had been worried that fiery side of you had been completely extinguished. 

“Thank the gods.” He responded with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to share you with anyone else.” 

That statement fell heavy in the cabin. 

He hadn’t really meant anything by it, but it touched upon a very real issue for the two of you. Unless you magically figured out a way to be together, a way that Kashimo approved of, then one day he would have to share you with someone else. And that had a horrible unsettling feeling coiling in his stomach. 

“I don’t want to share you either.” You replied quietly. “I might just put a fork through Yorozu’s eye if I ever see her touching you again.” You added, swiftly moving away from the elephant in the room, pushing the conversation towards lighter topics.

“I think I’d pay to see that.” Sukuna said with a chuckle as he peeled back the furs and pulled himself to his feet, swiftly dressing himself in the clothes he had worn the day before. He noticed you avert your eyes to his naked form, but he didn’t bother teasing you further - it was clear that it would take you a little bit of time to get used to this new development in your life. 

He watched you from the corner of his eye as you fished around on the floor for your dress, letting out a deep sigh of dismay as you pulled the ruined fabric up onto the bed. It had definitely been torn beyond repair, and would do little to protect your dignity if you were going to try wearing it again. 

Sukuna rummaged about in his drawers for a moment and pulled out a red cotton tunic and a pair of black trousers, holding them out to you. A look of disgust flickered across your face at the thought of wearing anything other than the dresses you were so fond of. 

“They’re not pretty like your clothes usually are but at least you won’t be practically naked.” He said convincingly.

You were probably running through all sorts of thoughts in your mind about how it wasn’t princess-like, putting yourself into an anxious spiral about what people would think, what conclusions they’d jump to with you returning to the palace wearing a man’s clothes. 

Trying to put a stop to your overthinking, Sukuna tossed his red cloak at you. “We can just say that your captors ruined your clothes and we wanted to avoid you catching hypothermia.” he said simply. “I don’t think anyone is going to read into anything too much, no one would expect you to look pristine and perfect after being kidnapped.”

Evidently convinced by his statement, you relented, clutching the clothes tightly as you looked up at him expectantly. 

“What?” He asked, waiting for you to speak. 

“Turn around.” You said shyly, gesturing to the clothes in your lap, nervous about the thought of him watching you get dressed. 

He opened his mouth to argue for a moment, to remind you that last night he’d been inside you and it doesn't really get much more intimate than that, but the anxious look in your eyes told him to hold his tongue, and with a soft sigh he did as you asked, giving you some privacy. 

There was the sound of a little shuffling, a soft thump, followed by a yelp and then a much louder thud. 

He whirled around instantly to be met with the rather pathetic, but somehow very endearing sight of you: still naked, sprawled out on the floor, and rubbing your ankle in pain. 

It was clear that you’d forgotten all about your injury as you’d gone to stand up, the pain only flaring up when your foot made contact with the floor and causing you to collapse under your own weight.

Sukuna moved over to you, crouching down beside you and taking your ankle in his hands, pulling off the makeshift bandages that he’d dressed for you the night before so that he could take a proper look at the damage in the light of day. 

It didn’t look great - that was for sure. Your ankle was a deep shade of purple and the skin had swollen up to two times the size that it was supposed to be. As he prodded at it softly with the tip of his finger you let out a hiss of pain, glaring at him like he was the sole cause of your suffering. 

He ignored your venomous gaze and squeezed your ankle as gently as he could, continuing to inspect it. He was no doctor, but he’d seen enough wounds and broken bones out on the battlefield to complete a decent enough assessment of things. It was broken, for sure, but definitely not beyond repair. None of the bones were sticking out in odd directions or anything weird like that, as long as you kept pressure off it and he got you back to the palace doctor as soon as possible, it would recover just fine. 

“Stay still.” He ordered as he stood up, rifling through his cabin to find some actual bandages, before moving back to you and wrapping up your ankle properly, strapping it firmly in place. He liked the way you were watching his every movement with great interest, as though you were surprised that he knew how to do such a thing. 

Once he was done, he gave the rest of your body a quick scan. It had been hard to see you properly in the flickering light of the fire last night, and he’d been far too distracted by other things to thoroughly check you for further wounds or signs of distress. 

Your breath hitched nervously as he checked you over, clearly considering telling him to turn around once more. But just like a cat who’d gotten their claw caught in something and desperately needed help getting it removed, you clearly understood that letting him investigate for any other injuries wasn’t something you should reject. 

For the most part you seemed untouched. There were some bruises around your wrists and feet where you’d been bound by rope, and the cuts on your cheek and neck would potentially leave behind scars, but beyond that you were unharmed. The broken ankle was the worst of what Mahito had done to you. 

Sukuna was just thankful that he’d arrived when he did. Who knows how much worse things would’ve gotten if he’d made it there just hours later. 

The crunch of Mahito’s skull beneath the pommel of his sword replayed over and over again in his head. That piece of shit hadn’t suffered enough. If he hadn’t been so focussed on getting you to safety maybe he would’ve kept Mahito alive, brought him back to the castle and employed every torture method in the book on him. 

That was the very least that he deserved for laying a single finger on you. 

“Can you help me get dressed, please?” You asked a little meekly, clearly reaching the end of your tether at being naked before him while he held all the power of being fully clothed. 

“Sure.” He got you to lift your arms, letting the tunic fall over your upper body, before maneuvering you very carefully to help you pull on the trousers. That took a little time, with him doing his best not to jerk your ankle at all, trying to keep you from experiencing any pain. 

Once you were dressed, he helped you up onto your feet, wrapping an arm around your waist to keep you steady while you balanced on your good foot precariously. You looked unbelievably adorable in the clothes that he’d given you, the tunic falling down to your knees, and the trousers loose and baggy around your legs. He’d rolled them up several times and secured the waist with a rope, but they still looked massive on you. 

His thoughts strayed to the idea of you standing around wearing nothing but his tunic and he quickly pushed it from his mind, his cock twitching a little bit too enthusiastically at the image. 

As cute as you looked, the tunic was so big that a lot of your shoulder was exposed, revealing the purple marks that Sukuna had left on you the night before. Subsequently, he took a lot of time adjusting his cloak over the top of your make-shift outfit, not keen on anyone noticing them and asking questions. 

“Shoko will see.” You pointed out, sensing his anxiety. 

Fuck. He hadn’t considered that little detail of you having a handmaid there to dress and bathe you most of the time. “Do you trust her to keep a secret?” He asked. If the answer was no, he was going to have to come up with a plan to get rid of her and fast. 

“Yeah.” You said. “I don’t think she’d tell anyone, it would be too much hassle for her.” 

Sukuna nodded, but it didn’t put him at ease. It was day one of you keeping this whole thing secret, and already he was putting things at risk by leaving marks on you without considering that he wasn’t the only one who would be seeing your bare skin. He’d need to be more careful in the future, think more carefully about anything that could get you caught. 

“Good.” He said firmly. “You ready to go?” He watched as you glanced around the room pouting a little as you stared back at the bed longingly. 

“I wish we could stay a bit longer.” You said finally. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He was not keen on having to face reality once more. 

—

The ride back to the palace was long, and you found yourself in more and more disbelief that Sukuna had actually managed to rescue you. Mahito and his men had taken you so far - based on your estimations you must’ve been practically on the Kingdom’s border in that cave. They’d come terrifyingly close to getting you over into enemy territory. 

You’d been so lucky that Sukuna found you when he did. 

Sukuna wasn’t very talkative on the ride back, keeping you secure against his chest for safety, but clearly trying not to be too touchy. You could understand why - if someone from the palace ran into you and his hands were on you in a way that looked like anything other than a Knight protecting his princess, you’d both be in deep trouble. 

A sense of relief rushed through you at the sight of the castle, at the knowledge that you’d made it home safely rather than being delivered to the Zenins. But feeling Sukuna tense up a little behind you at the sight instantly brought you back down to earth. 

From now on you’d have to get used to lying, all the time. 

Yet somehow, as you glanced back at Sukuna, looking so handsome behind you with his hair ruffled in the wind, that really didn’t feel so bad. It was worth it to be with him. It's not like your father ever really bothered to learn much about you anyway, what was one extra thing that he wasn’t aware of?

As the two of you approached the gate, the men standing on guard jumped instantly into action, ringing bells and alerting the whole castle to the fact that you’d been found and returned safely. It was more attention than you really wanted right now, tugging Sukuna’s soft cloak tighter around you for comfort. 

“Call for the doctor.” Sukuna ordered one of the guards firmly. “Bring him to the princess’s quarters as soon as possible.” The guard acted without question, sprinting off into the castle to fulfil Sukuna’s wishes. 

It was funny, watching people scramble over themselves to appease him. His reputation was almost the exact opposite of yours. While you had to hold on to people’s respect through poise and elegance, an act of perfection all the time. He managed people’s respect through fear. Everyone knew just what he’d done in the war - the stories of his ruthlessness, and no one wanted to get on his bad side. 

His reputation was in stark contrast to the man who’d held you so tenderly last night. You supposed you both had your masks to wear in public. 

“You’re not taking me straight to my father?” You asked, blinking up at him as Sukuna dismounted the horse, helping you down into his arms and heading straight for your quarters. 

There was no doubt in your mind that your father would’ve expected you to be brought straight to him once you’d been rescued. Probably to scold you for being taken in the first place. 

Sukuna scrunched up his nose with distaste. “No. You’re hurt, you need rest. If he wants to see you he can haul his ass up those stairs to your room.” 

You giggled softly at his words. “I don’t think you’re allowed to say that.” 

Subtly leaning closer to you, he lowered his voice to ensure that only you could hear him. “I don’t think I’m allowed to do half the things we did yesterday, what’s a couple more words?” 

Fair enough.

With no more argument, Sukuna dutifully carried you up to your chambers, placing you down on the bed and making sure your foot was comfortable and elevated on pillows - fixated on doing what was best for you. 

What you really wanted right now, as he fussed over you, was for him to join you in the bed. All you could think about was snuggling up against his chest and drifting off to sleep - you really didn’t get enough rest last night, and your body felt exhausted. 

But that would be a stupid idea, because your father could show up at any moment and that was a sure way for the two of you to get caught. 

Sukuna reached over you and picked up Sir Bounce-a-lot. You swore that you could see fear in the toy bunny’s beady eyes at being back in the hands of the man who almost threw him out the window a few months back. Sukuna turned the toy over in his hand for a few seconds before pressing it to your chest, smiling softly as your hands grasped tightly at the plushie. 

“Would you really have thrown him out the window back then?” You asked with a pout, your hands raking through the plushie’s soft fur. You were very interested in his answer now that the nature of your relationship had changed. 

Sukuna grinned. “Yeah.” He said shamelessly and you gasped, jerking the bunny away from him protectively. 

“I’m not gonna do it now.” He added incredulously. “Not considering that you almost cried last time. I like annoying you but I’m not heartless. Not when it comes to you at least.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words, lips parting to respond only for the words to die on your tongue at the heavy knock on your door. Sukuna instinctively stepped back, putting a little bit of distance between the two of you as the door swung open. 

Standing in the entryway was your father, the rings under his eyes darker than ever, his white hair unkempt and his clothes ruffled. His concern for his missing daughter was palpable as his blue eyes scanned over you, gaze landing on your ankle and his worry instantly transforming into anger as he turned to Sukuna. 

“You.” He hissed, striding over to your Knight and jabbing a finger into his chest. “I gave you one job and this is what happens to my precious daughter? This is your fault. I should have you beheaded for this.” 

Your stomach dropped as you watched the exchange. Sukuna was expressionless, guilt flickering in his crimson eyes as he let your father continue on his tirade. What could he do? Fight back? Physically, he was more than capable of overpowering Kashimo, of overpowering every person in this castle. 

But that wasn’t how things worked. 

He couldn't stage a coup just because he was angry, especially not when that coup would have to start with him killing your father, something that you wouldn’t ever appreciate even with the rift between you and your remaining parent. 

So all Sukuna could do was stand there and take it, and hope that your father remembered just how much he’d done for this country, how much Kashimo needed to stay on Sukuna’s good side if he wanted you to be kept safe, if he wanted Sukuna to fight for him in the likely inevitable war that seemed to be marching their way. 

It was hard for you to stay focussed on your father’s cutting words, because through all the yelling, through your sympathy for Sukuna, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit sorry for yourself. Once again you’d been put in a life-threatening situation and instead of your father coming to you first and checking that you were okay, he went straight to someone else. 

Not a single word had been spoken to you yet. 

Maybe you were self absorbed, but after everything that had happened to you since you’d been swiped from the castle, were you selfish to assume that the focus should be on you?

Frustrated by that thought, and tired of your father’s screaming, you decided to come to Sukuna’s aid. That was a normal thing for a princess to do for her Knight, right? You would’ve done this for Yaga too, if this situation had presented itself when he was still your guard.

“It wasn’t his fault.” You said firmly, just loud enough to stop your father in his tracks as he turned to you. Sukuna’s eyes were wide as he glanced down at you uncertainly, wondering where you were going with this. 

“Stay out of this.” Kashimo replied sternly as he turned back to Sukuna, and you found yourself gritting your teeth at the dismissal, nails digging into your palms hard enough to draw blood. 

Grin and bear it. Sit there and be pretty and silent, just like always. 

“No.” You said, and your father froze. “This isn’t his fault. Maybe if you just listened to me for once instead of assuming that you know everything, you’d understand what actually happened.” 

Your heart was beating out of your chest with anxiety. Sure, there were plenty of times in your life where you’d pushed things a little with your father - just like how you’d questioned him about Naoya, and his decision to assign Sukuna as your personal guard. 

But this was different.This was outwardly questioning his knowledge and authority in front of a subordinate. Something that he certainly wouldn’t appreciate. 

“Please listen.” You continued, making your voice as soft as possible, trying to appeal to him as your father, rather than as King. 

“Don’t be so disrespectful.” He said coldly, and you wondered if he would’ve struck you across the face if not for Sukuna standing right there. He never liked to come across as anything but the perfect father in front of his men, and Sukuna was his favourite Knight. 

“I’m sorry.” You said quickly. “But I can’t stand by and watch you accuse my Knight of something that he wasn’t responsible for.” 

Sukuna was chewing on his lip as he watched you, clearly anxious about whatever game you were playing. He was a relatively fearless man, unbothered by Kashimo’s yelling outside of how it might impact his relationship to you. He’d much rather the man was screaming at him than at you. 

But that didn’t sit well in your mind, because it wasn’t Sukuna’s fault, and you weren’t about to let him take the fall for it just because your father was incapable of controlling his temper. 

“I snuck out of my room.” You lied easily, keeping your eyes fixed on your father, not wanting to stumble over your deceit by exchanging looks with your lover. “Sukuna was standing guard outside my door, and I wanted to make life difficult for him so I snuck out the window and wandered around the castle by myself. I knew the risks and I ignored them anyway. He was doing everything he could to protect me and I actively sabotaged that for him.” 

The room was silent, and you chanced a quick glance at Sukuna who had narrow eyes fixed on you in disbelief. This wasn’t the first time he’d been witness to your lies, but you supposed he hadn’t realised before how easy it came to you to spout off deception to Kashimo. 

He looked at least a little impressed. 

“So, yell at me if you want.” You continued. “But your golden boy of a Knight did nothing wrong, as always.” You injected a little bit of spite into the statement - it probably wouldn’t be the worst thing for your father to assume that you and Sukuna still didn’t get along all that well, that would do a lot to take any heat off your relationship going forward. 

Kashimo seemed to consider you for a moment, and you prayed he couldn’t hear the sound of your heart thudding against your ribcage in the hope that he bought your lie and would ease off on both of you. 

“Sukuna.” Your father said finally, not even turning to glance at the man, his eyes still fixed on you. “Go and wait in the Throne Room. I wish to talk to my daughter in private.” 

Sukuna’s eyes flicked between you and the King, before he gave a curt nod and took his leave, shutting the door carefully behind him. 

You didn’t particularly like this turn of events, having Sukuna there had been providing you with a burst of confidence - you weren’t keen on dealing with your father one to one, and you especially didn’t like that by splitting the two of you up he’d be able to more easily pinpoint any lies. 

“Are you okay?” Your father asked.

That was not what you were expecting. 

In fact, your father’s question completely caught you off guard. Of all the things that he could’ve asked you, the cutting words that you were anticipating, showing you genuine care hadn’t been on your list. 

Your surprise must’ve shown on your face, because your father’s shoulders dropped a little in disappointment, something akin to hurt crossing his expression. 

“I’d rather you didn’t look so shocked, you know.” He said. 

“Sorry…it's just, that’s not really something you ask all that often.” 

“No…” He trailed off before taking a deep breath. “So, are you? Okay?” 

You shrugged. If you were being honest with yourself you hadn’t thought about it too much. Your mind had been too preoccupied with thoughts of Sukuna ever since he’d rescued you. 

A prickly fear would crawl up your spine each time your thoughts strayed to Mahito, but that was easy to replace with much warmer memories of Sukuna’s hands on you. He’d been the perfect distraction at that moment. Overwriting what may have been the most traumatic moment of your existence so far with easily your most pleasant one. 

“I’m doing fine.” You said. “Sukuna got to me before anything could happen. To be honest, rather than yelling at him, you should be on your knees before him with gratitude. Without him I’d be halfway to the Zenins by now.” 

“Noted.” Your father lowered his head in shame at your words. “I could only focus on the fact that you were stolen away in the first place. I’ll show him more leniency when I speak to him shortly.” 

“Good.” You responded, letting silence settle over the room. 

You weren’t sure if your father had more to say, or if he was waiting for you to speak. It always felt awkward when you were around him without a clear purpose or reason - most of the time it just felt like you’d been left alone with a stranger who was bad at making conversation. 

“So, it was the Zenins then? They were responsible for this?” He asked. There was no hint of surprise on his face, it's not like this had come as a shock to any of you. After Naoya’s bold statement that you would be his wife, this kidnapping attempt was about as predictable as it could get. It was like the Zenins weren’t even trying to be subtle about how unquestionably evil their whole family was. 

“Yeah. I heard Mahito and his allies talking about them. Naoya had told his men not to lay a finger on me unless I tried to escape.” 

“Which you did?” Kahimo asked, eyes trailing down to your bandaged ankle. 

“In a sense.” Frustration crept through your body at the memory of the trick that Mahito had played on you. The loophole that he’d exploited to ensure that he could beat the shit out of you and suffer no consequences at the hands of the Zenins. Technically he’d followed their orders to the letter. 

Your father waited quietly for you to continue, evidently curious about what you’d tried to do under terrifying odds. 

“He gave me a deal. Said he’d untie me and give me ten seconds to start running. Obviously the game was rigged, he tripped me and did this to my ankle. He would’ve done much worse if Sukuna hadn’t arrived when he did.” 

“So he didn’t…” Your father trailed off, clearing his throat as he eyed the clothes that you were wearing - clearly not yours, your dress left behind in Sukuna’s cabin. “He didn’t lay his hands on you further? Your purity is intact?” 

Your heart dropped, frustration and humiliation coursing through you at the audacity of your father to ask such a thing.

Of course he’d ask that. 

You were foolish to think that him checking if you were okay was just out of care for you. He wanted to know if his asset was secure, if his lovely innocent little princess was still as innocent as he needed her to be, to ensure that his plans to get you engaged to some stuffy noble wouldn’t be ruined. 

The question stung. Not just because your purity was in fact, not still intact, but because your father couldn’t deign himself to care about you as a person rather than as a princess, for just one single moment. 

You wished your mother was here. She would’ve never allowed his interest in you to dwindle so thoroughly. If she was here, maybe you could’ve even come clean to her about Sukuna. She would’ve understood - would’ve made your father understand too, they married for love after all.

But without her, you were just some princess - a pawn for your father to use in political games. Not really his daughter. Nothing more than an ornament with no whims of her own. 

“He didn’t touch me further.” You said honestly, and your father let out a sigh of relief. He didn't seem to notice the bitterness in your tone.

“I’m relieved. It would’ve been a disgrace.” 

Of course it would’ve been. His only daughter, sullied by someone who wasn’t her husband, oh the horror! 

He’d throw a fit if he knew the truth. 

And that was why you and Sukuna needed to be desperately careful going forward. One wrong step could signal the end for both of you, and your father would be far from forgiving. It would be a disgrace after all. 

“Is there anything else?” You asked impatiently, just wanting this conversation to be over. If all he was going to do was check that you were still of value to him, you had nothing further to add to this discussion. 

“No…I just-” he took a deep breath, adjusting his robes. “You know that I care for you, don’t you? I feel you’ve grown distant from me recently.” 

You wanted to scoff. As if the distance between the two of you was your fault. He was the one who could never bother to show a shred of concern for who you really were, too focussed on the perfect image that you had to present to the world. 

Not that he’d understand if you ever told him that. The distance between the two of you was insurmountable, and as long as you were heading down this path with Sukuna, the lies that you’d share with him would increase, and that gap would only widen. It was inevitable. 

So you gave him a fake smile and a nod of acknowledgement. There was no point in fighting him. Wiser to keep the conversation short so that you could go back to enjoying your day without his stifling presence haunting your quarters. 

You were wrong to say that being left alone with him was like being with a stranger. 

Spending time with a stranger would be easier. 

Sukuna was gone for a long time after your father finally left you in peace. Kashimo was likely talking his ear off in the throne room - always finding it easier to talk to his Knights than he found talking with you. 

Just another reminder of the growing distance between you. 

The doctor came to see you while you waited for Sukuna to come back, examining your ankle and strapping it more firmly. He confirmed that the bone was broken, but with rest it should be mostly healed within six to eight weeks. That certainly wasn’t the end of the world, and he even gave you a pair of wooden crutches so that you could still get around on your own. 

You supposed that the injury could also be a good excuse to get Sukuna to carry you around. Nobody would question why he was doing such a thing if you literally couldn’t walk. That was definitely a silver lining. 

Once the doctor had left you were given just one measly second of peace before Shoko made an appearance, your father most likely having called for your handmaid after he’d witnessed your disheveled appearance.

It wasn’t that you disliked Shoko. On the contrary, you very much enjoyed her presence most of the time. But right now you were exhausted, not in a particularly talkative mood, and desperate for Sukuna to come back so that he could fill you in on what your father had to say to him in the privacy of the throne room. 

You’d tried ushering her away but she wasn’t taking no for an answer. Unsurprising, considering that servants were generally much more afraid of your father than they were of you. 

Anxiety began to eat at you as she led you to the bath, tensing up as she undressed you. Although you’d reassured Sukuna that she wouldn’t say anything about the deep purple marks scattered across your shoulders, you weren’t quite confident in that fact yourself, desperately hoping that she liked you enough to keep things quiet. 

You assessed her expression as she removed your clothes, but she offered no reaction. If she noticed the marks, she said nothing. 

She performed her duty as diligently as always, filling the tub and thoroughly scraping the blood and muck from your body. Sensing that you didn’t really want to talk but would likely be open to listening, she chatted away about some drama going on between the other servants, letting you relax and zone out a little to the sound of her voice. 

Once she was finished, she brushed your hair and got you dressed in a lovely comfortable velvet dress, one that adequately covered up the bruises on your shoulders. Looking at yourself in the mirror you felt rejuvenated, only now realising just how disgusting you’d felt after being held in that cave. 

Now you looked a bit like a princess again, even if you did still have that unpleasant cut marring your perfect face. 

“You should be careful about those.” Shoko said, as she swept her hands over your shoulders. “Let him do whatever he wants and you’ll get caught in no time.” 

You looked at her through the mirror in surprise, making a vague effort to deny her words. “What are you talking about?”

She shrugged. “Sukuna, obviously. Play this however you want but I spend a lot of time with you, and you spent way too much time complaining about him for there to be nothing going on there.”

You bit your lip anxiously, was it that obvious?

“I’m more perceptive than most.” She said, sensing your worry. “And I know you way better than you realise.” 

“Will you tell anyone?” You asked. 

“Nah. Just don’t go on about him all the time to me, it's insufferable.” She mumbled, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone. You knew that you probably would go on about him a fair bit now that she was aware of the situation. 

What else was a handmaid for if not to share your gossip? 

—

By the time Sukuna made it back to your quarters he was exhausted. His conversation with Kashimo after being sent to the throne room had been painfully long. Admittedly, the King had been much more reasonable with him compared to his initial anger from earlier, but that man sure did love the sound of his own voice. 

He apologised for his temper, and actually thanked Sukuna for saving your life. Sukuna had hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but no. He had to listen to Kashimo talk for several more hours about how Sukuna needed to ensure that this never ever happened again, how he needed to stay practically glued to your side from now on. 

That was not a problem, if only Kashimo knew just how close Sukuna intended on staying to his daughter.

Kashimo had also talked at length about implementing a plan against the Zenins, gravely outlining to Sukuna just how close to war it looked like they were right now. 

That wasn’t something that massively concerned Sukuna - he’d pushed them back before, and there was nothing that he enjoyed more than some good old fashioned bloodshed. He was sure that he’d fight even harder knowing that he had you waiting patiently for him to return. 

War was definitely preferable for him to all this weird political gaming and kidnapping - he wanted you to be involved in the disputes as little as possible. 

By the time Kashimo was done talking to him, the day had already drifted into late evening and he found himself grabbing two plates of food from the kitchen, bringing the meals up to your quarters. 

“Tough day?” You asked as he entered your room. 

You were sitting on the armchair, with your injured ankle propped up as likely ordered by the doctor. You looked radiant, all cleaned up and glowing. You were donning a pretty green velvet dress, and your hair had been nicely brushed. He felt unruly compared to you right now, still not finding a chance to clean himself up. 

“That’s an understatement.” He said with a heavy sigh, placing a plate of food on the table beside you before sitting down on one of the other chairs across from you and digging into his own meal. He was starving. He hadn’t had the chance to eat anything since he’d set out to rescue you almost 48 hours ago. 

It seemed that you were in the same state, putting aside the book that you were reading to wolf down your food. 

“What did he have to say?” You asked, referring to your father. “Did he yell at you any more?” 

“He actually apologised.” Sukuna said with a chuckle. “Said that I have to stick to you like glue now though, so…” His eyes roamed over you as he let a smirk light up his face. 

“Like glue, huh?” You asked, giggling softly. “I suppose that can be arranged.” 

“Mmmm.” His gaze went to the book that you’d put down in your lap. It wasn’t one that he’d seen you read before, particularly old and weathered. “What’re you reading?”

“Oh! It's the story of Lancelot and Guinevere. It's always been my favourite Arthurian legend, and It just feels appropriate right now.” 

The tale of a Knight and his lover going behind a King’s back with their affair? Yeah, he supposed that was appropriate for the situation. 

“I always liked The Green Knight the most - I don’t think that one can apply much to our situation though.” He said. 

“Wait, you read Arthurian Legends?” You asked, eyes wide as though you were surprised that he read books at all. 

He shrugged. “Sure, didn’t everyone? It's like the main thing for children to read.”

“Yeah, but you always came across as so against the romanticisation of Knights, I just assumed that you’d never encountered those stories.” 

“I’m against romanticising being a Knight because I am one and it's not romantic. I practically waded through blood and guts during that war with the Zenins, it was nothing like those fairy tales.” He paused. “However, that doesn’t mean I hate your precious little legends, I’m just keen to keep them separate from reality.” 

“Hmmm.” You tapped your chin as you thought before speaking once more. “I think The Green Knight being your favourite suits you. Sir Gawain is brave and honest just like you are.”

Sukuna wasn’t sure that your assessment of him being brave and honest was a fair one considering that he was currently undermining his King by sneaking around with the man’s daughter, but he wasn’t about to turn down the compliment. 

The realisation that was the way you saw him caught him off guard though. Because for all the time had spent messing with you since the moment you’d first met, all the effort that he’d put in to shattering your little fantasy of chivalrous Knights, it seemed like he’d actually achieved the opposite. Because here you were, believing wholeheartedly that he was brave and honest. 

He wondered if Jin would burst into laughter if he heard you say that, if Todo or Choso would pull faces of surprise and tell you that you must be talking about someone else, because there was no way that Ryomen Sukuna, the Demon of the Cerulean Nation was the man that you were calling brave and honest. 

“Everything okay?” You asked, looking at him all wide-eyed. You were chewing on your lower lip - an anxious habit of yours that he’d been noticing lately. It was cute.

“Fine.” He responded quickly, not wanting to get into the depths of how your words had impacted him. “What about you, princess? Are you doing okay? You haven’t had much time to process everything.” 

“Honestly? I think I’m okay, mostly thanks to you.” Your cheeks flushed a little and Sukuna felt his heart skip - he really needed to get a hold of himself, you constantly had his heart running wild. “My father didn’t help though.” You said with a deep sigh. 

“No?” 

“No. I thought for a moment that he was actually worried about me, but all he really cared about was my value.” He raised an eyebrow quizzically as he tried to decode that. 

“Your value?” 

“Whether or not Mahito left me pure.” Your voice broke a little on the final word, your father’s opinion clearly having an effect on you. 

Sukuna let out a sigh. 

What an unpleasant thing to ask your daughter after she’d just survived a traumatic experience. What would Kashimo’s reaction have been if you’d given an answer he didn’t like? Would he have berated you? Cast you aside for something you couldn’t control? In what would’ve likely been your greatest moment of need, would he have discarded you as his daughter and told you it was your own fault?

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” You said quickly, but you were chewing on your lip again, and he could tell that your mind was straying to the affair that the two of you were currently engaged in, what would happen if things between you were uncovered. 

But what was done, was done. That purity that your father was so obsessed with was gone. There was no going back after the night together in the cabin, might as well keep going forward while you still could. 

“Want me to take your mind off it?” He asked, smirking at you. And you wasted no time nodding at him enthusiastically, almost like you’d been waiting for him to ask. 

Moments later he had you sitting on the edge of the bed, your legs hanging a little over the edge as he urged you to lie back. You did as he asked, your body twitching a little as he slid your dress up until it was bunched around your waist. 

He was going to do everything in his power to make you feel good. 

He pressed gentle kisses against your thighs, taking his time moving slowly up your legs until his breath was fanning against your core, still covered by your undergarments. His hands came up to the fabric and slipped it down your legs, leaving you bare to him. 

The heat of his breath was making you squirm beneath him, feeling awfully exposed to his gaze as he practically examined you. 

You were already wet, despite him having barely touched you yet. It seemed that his presence alone had the same effect on you that yours did on him. That desperate need for the other. 

He placed his hands firmly on your hips, keeping you from shuffling away from him as he brought his lips to your pussy, pressing a few light kisses against it before flicking his tongue experimentally against your clit. You let out a cute little mewl at the feeling, arching your back desperately as he made contact. 

Sukuna was obsessed with the way that you’d shake and whimper for him. He hadn’t expected it to have such an effect on him, but watching you unravel beneath him in the cabin last night had made him desperate to draw more responses out of you. He needed to hear all those pretty sounds again, your lovely voice letting him know just how good he was making you feel. 

You were balling the bed sheets tightly in your hands as his tongue explored you leisurely. There was no need to rush, you weren’t going anywhere - he could take as much time as he wanted to tease you, to make you feel good. 

Moving attention away from your clit, he licked a long stripe down your pussy before expertly diving into your folds, the tip of his tongue drawing shapes into the flesh that had you clenching and whining, the pleasure only increasing as he moved a hand down to your clit, his fingers toying with the bundle of nerves while his mouth continued to lavish you with attention, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. 

Clearly growing more confident by the second - or perhaps simply more needy? You were bucking your hips a little against his face, trying to get more friction from him as your hand went down to his pink locks, tugging at them lightly as you tried to pull him closer. 

Sukuna groaned against your pussy at the sensation, he loved having you pull his hair - the feeling ignited something in him, his hardened cock twitching against the fabric of his trousers with desperate need. 

“-Kuna..” You whined softly, your thighs trembling. He liked you shortening his name like that, even if you’d only done it by accident, the pleasure of him eating you out too intense for you to get your words right. 

Feeling the desperate urge to please you, he pressed the tip of his tongue against your opening, dipping it into you a little as his fingers continued to work at your clit, spurred on by the way your fingers gripped more firmly at his hair at the action, your thighs squeezing his head with bliss. 

“Aaah, ‘m close, Kuna-” 

Taking a mental note of your words, he doubled down on his efforts, not letting up for a second as you squirmed needily beneath him, soft little whines and moans falling from your lips for a few more moments before you were crying out his name, grinding your hips hard against his face and pulling his hair firmly as you came.

Sukuna didn’t move back right away, continuing to lap up your juices as you went limp beneath him, breathing heavily and twitching with the aftershocks of your orgasm with each line that his tongue ran along your folds. 

He stayed where he was until you were gently pushing him away, telling him that it was too much, a cute flushed expression on your face, all teary-eyed from the overstimulation. The thought crossed his mind that he could ignore you, hold you in place and eat you out for hours, making you cum over and over again until you were sobbing with overstimulation and begging him to stop. 

But he was too distracted by the way that you were already shuffling away, carefully lowering yourself to the floor and making sure not to put pressure on your ankle as you positioned yourself on your knees, gazing at him shyly as you patted the edge of the bed, directing him to sit. 

Very curious of where you were going with this, Sukuna followed your command. Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, peering down at you kneeling beneath him. 

Leaning forward, you ran your hands up his clothed thigh, his cock twitching as your fingers brushed against his bulge, lightly squeezing at him through the fabric. His breath caught in his throat for a second at how bold you were being, clearly having found a burst of confidence since this morning when you’d been too shy to have him see you naked. 

Perhaps getting all cleaned up had fixed you with a new lease on life. 

“Want me to take them off?” He asked, and you nodded, moving back a little to give him the space to remove his clothes, peeling his trousers and undergarments off before returning to his position on the edge of the bed - with you sitting cutely between his legs. 

He kept his eyes on you, waiting for your next move, wondering what idea you’d brewed up in your mind. He didn’t want to give you too much direction, far too curious about what your plan was. 

Your gaze was on his cock, already painfully hard and standing to attention between his legs. That was just the effect that your presence had on him these days. 

Tentatively, you reached out with one of your hands, experimentally brushing your fingers along the shaft. The touch was feather-light, but it still sent pleasure jolting through him. Being touched by you was entirely different to the sensation from his own hand or one of the many women he’d been with before. 

Having you run your fingers over his cock felt heavenly. Making his body tense with need for release as if he was a virgin again, being touched by a woman for the first time. 

He could hold it together though, would hold it together, because he didn’t want the feeling of you hands on him like this to come to a premature end. 

His enjoyment must’ve been evident on his face, because you seemed to grow a little more confident, your hand wrapping around his cock properly now, squeezing just hard enough to have Sukuna biting down on his lip to prevent a groan from slipping out. 

But that was nothing compared to what you did next. Leaning forward you tentatively licked the tip of his cock, making him twitch hard. You definitely noticed that, because all of a sudden you were looking up at him with big eyes, as though trying to confirm that you were doing things right. 

And that drove him wild. 

“More, princess.” He said huskily, and you blushed as you followed his command, bringing your tongue to his cock once more and licking at the tip needily, tasting his pre-cum and clearly revelling in the way he’d twitch with each contact. Payback, he supposed, for him doing the same to you. 

With your confidence continuously growing, you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, looking up at him as you did so, checking that you were doing a good job. And you were, because it felt like bliss having your warm mouth wrapped around him like that, his hand instantly moving to your hair, petting the strands softly. 

Slowly you started to move yourself down his cock, attempting to take more of him into your mouth. He winced a little as your teeth scraped against him, but he couldn’t exactly blame you - this was your first time doing this, and it wasn’t like he was small. 

“Open up a little wider, baby.” he murmured encouragingly, and you took a moment to relax your jaw, getting used to having him in your mouth before edging forward a little further. Sensing that you were struggling, Sukuna guided your head down his length carefully, cooing and praising you for doing such a good job. 

He allowed you to take things at your own pace, his hand in your hair not too pushy or firm, letting you do what you wanted. 

The way that he’d been having sex with you wasn’t particularly the norm for him. True to how he was in battle, he was a man who enjoyed violence. Subsequently he was a bit of a sadist, and liked to fuck rough and hard. If you were one of his one night stands he wouldn’t have had much patience for what you were doing right now - these sweet hesitant movements. 

If you were a one night stand he would’ve already started to fuck your face, selfishly chasing his release while you just knelt there and took it. 

But you were special to him, so he was going to take things nice and slow with you. Fuck you gently and lovingly, let you get used to things at your own pace before he even suggested putting his own sexual desires on the table. 

Besides, with you he didn’t feel the need to rely on sadism to get himself off as he did with others. He was so obsessed with you, that even the most tame and vanilla love-making was appealing to him as long as it was you he was doing it with. 

Not that he wouldn’t love to inflict a little pain one day if it was something you were interested in. You’d spent plenty of time acting like a brat in the early days of him being your Knight, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten. He’d definitely spend some time putting you in your place for that. Once you were ready. 

For now he was just enjoying the sight of you bobbing your head up down his cock at your own pace, your tongue flicking against the underside of his shaft and your hands moving along the base, covering off the parts of him that you couldn’t quite fit into your mouth. 

He was impressed with how well you were doing for your first time, and you had him cumming in no time. It was impossible for him to hold on too long with you looking up at him like you were, eyes glossy with the tears you were holding back, your lips wrapped obscenely around his length. He had no chance. 

And as he came into your mouth, he expected you to move away on reflex, to spit his cum onto the floor. But you didn’t, keeping your eyes on him as you swallowed his seed, your expression telling him that you wanted him to praise you for doing so well, for being so good. 

“Good girl.” He hummed softly, his fingers playing with strands of your hair as he watched you wipe away some of his cum that had dripped down your chin. The site was lewd, and despite having literally just cum, he could feel himself already growing hard at the sight. He needed to be inside you again. 

Fuck, you really had no idea what you did to him. 

And a moment later he was lifting you up onto the bed, placing you on top of him, lifting your dress up once more as he pressed his cock up against your slick core. 

He wasn’t going to be done with you anytime soon. 

—

And that’s how the next few weeks went. 

With your broken ankle your mobility was relatively limited, so most of your time was spent inside the castle, and that meant that a great deal of your days were spent alone in your room with Sukuna. 

Days that used to be so tedious back when he’d first become your Knight, had now transitioned into cherished hours filled with pleasure. 

He’d take you over and over again, making love to you passionately on your silk sheets, fucking you like he couldn’t possibly get enough. Having you in multiple positions: beneath him with your legs thrown over his shoulders, riding him with his hands guiding your hips up and down his cock, on all fours with his hand occasionally smacking your ass - a feeling that you discovered very quickly that you loved.

You’d often find his fingers in your mouth, stifling your cries as he drove his hips into yours, aware that anyone walking by the door would be able to hear what was transpiring if he let you be too loud - even though he was desperate to hear those pretty cries unfiltered. 

It was incredible, spending so much time exploring each other’s bodies, Sukuna teaching you everything that you needed to know about pleasure day after day as he showed you new things. You were addicted to him. To the way he made you feel. 

When you weren’t having sex, you’d spend almost all of your time together. Your father had told Sukuna that he needed to stick to you like glue after all, and he was doing an excellent job of that. 

Plenty of time would pass with the two of you curled up in your bed, his arms wrapped around you and your head resting on his chest - enjoying each other’s warmth even despite the warm summer air. 

Sometimes he’d lay with his head in your lap while you read to him, your fingers threading through his pink locks absentmindedly; or he’d place you on his lap when sitting in your armchair, hands caressing you tenderly as he’d tell you stories about Jin and Yuji. 

You kept up with all your usual hobbies: painting in the garden, taking long walks through the grounds, practicing embroidery on some of your older dresses. Now always with Sukuna at your side, watching your actions with interest and occasionally joining in if desire struck him. 

Sukuna also encouraged you to take up a few new hobbies, grabbing practice swords from the barracks and using one of the private training rooms to spar with you - showing you how to use a sword, and how to overcome an enemy if they ever managed to grab you, desperate to keep you safe should you ever be kidnapped again. 

Those training sessions were really just an excuse for Sukuna to have his hands on you though - always correcting your posture, his hands on your waist as he tried to teach you new moves. He’d always make a point to pin you down when he inevitably won the spars, grinning and smirking at the way your pupils dilated and your cheeks flushed at his proximity. 

He had to be particularly careful with the sparring, on account of your still healing ankle, but he was always there to make sure that he caught you if you ever stumbled, his care for you written into all of his actions. 

You’d assumed that over time the way that your heart would race at his presence would start to subside. That his touch would become the norm. But between the sparring, his constant presence while you went on with your daily life, and the long evenings spent with him between your legs; you found that your heart still felt like it was exploding whenever he was near. 

You weren’t sure that you’d ever really get used to him being yours. 

About a month and a half passed since the incident with Mahito and you were doing better than ever. Your ankle had almost fully healed, and you’d started moving about without crutches. You’d had several nightmares of the night that you spent in that cave, but each time you’d awoken in fits of tears and covered in sweat, Sukuna’s strong arms and comforting presence had been there to calm you down and lull you back into peaceful sleep. 

For the most part your father had left you alone, putting his complete trust in Sukuna to look after your wellbeing. That had been something of a blessing, with you and Sukuna not having to try too hard to hide your relationship under your father’s clever gaze. 

But his absence over the last six weeks had also caused a certain amount of anxiety in you, because things had been too easy lately - too quiet. There had been no talk of your future, or of suitors. And as much as that should’ve come as a relief, it didn’t - the fear that your father was working on things behind the scenes growing with each day that passed. 

“Something wrong?” You and Sukuna were currently sitting out in your private garden. Chairs positioned across from each other, each of you with a canvas and easel, paints set up on small tables beside you both. 

You’d been hovering your paintbrush above the canvas for some time now, caught up with all your thoughts and worries. You’d been getting a bit of cabin fever lately with how long you’d been cooped up in the castle walls, desperate to go out and stretch your legs somewhere a bit more private than the palace and its grounds. It would be a nice escape from all the anxiety that would build up in your head when stuck in one place for too long. 

“No, just spacing out.” You replied, turning your attention back to your painting. 

The two of you had been out here for a while, working on your own pieces of art. Yours was pretty much done at this point, looking exquisite as you added the few finishing touches. 

It was a painting of Sukuna, one you were very proud of. It depicted him as he sat across from you, but instead of having the garden as the background, you’d painted him in that flower field that he’d taken you to back before the banquet, trying to recreate the scenery and colours to the best of your ability with no reference. 

You felt like you’d done an excellent job, but considering that day felt like eons ago now, it was hard to objectively say how close the similarities were. 

“Okay, I’m done!” You said. “How’s yours going?” Sukuna winced at your question as he stared at his own canvas like it had done something to offend him. 

“Uhhh…I don’t think it’ll get much better.” He said, sounding very much like a defeatist. 

You giggled at that. He’d told you before this exercise that painting wasn’t really his thing - it wasn’t really something he’d ever done before, even as a kid. But you’d insisted that you both paint each other, pointing out just how cute an activity it would be to do together, and he’d relented. You’d learnt over the last few weeks that there was a pleading expression of yours that he was particularly weak to, and you’d been exploiting that a lot.

“Come on, I bet it's not even that bad.” Sukuna raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief. 

“You haven’t seen it yet.” He grumbled, reluctantly picking up the painting as you did the same with your own. 

“On the count of three?” He nodded and the two of you counted down, both spinning your paintings around at the same time. 

Looking at what Sukuna had created, you couldn’t help but giggle. It was painfully bright, he’d only used the base colours that you’d provided him, making no attempt to mix the colours together to create new ones - the thought likely never even crossed his mind. 

It was reminiscent of a painting that a child might create - clumsily painted grass with some splotches of colour for flowers, a dress-wearing figure in the centre of the canvas which was only one step up in artistic ability from a stickman. In the corner he’d even drawn a big ball of yellow with lines coming out of it to represent the sun. 

Your reaction was perhaps a little cruel, but after a few moments of assessing the painting you were doubled over with laughter. You were so used to Sukuna being talented at everything he did. He was the Kingdom’s best fighter, an excellent lover, and over the last few weeks you’d discovered that he was also excellent at more tame matters like cooking, braiding your hair, and discussing philosophy. 

No one could be good at everything, but you weren’t expecting a little bit of painting to be his downfall

“It's not that funny.” He grumbled, crimson eyes glaring at you as you grabbed the easel to steady yourself, wiping tears from your eyes as you tried to slow your fits of giggles.

“Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting it to look like that.” You explained between laughter. 

“I tried really hard.” He said earnestly, and for a moment you felt a little guilty, his words ceasing your chuckles. But as you looked up at him you noticed a hint of a grin on his lips and realised that he was fucking with you. 

His eyes trailed to your painting, studying it carefully. He was quiet for a while as he stared at it, and you began to feel a little exposed. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d seen your paintings, he’d often claimed to like ones that you’d made in the past. But this was the first one that you’d ever done of him, so it felt like the pressure was a little higher than normal. 

“Do you like it?” You asked, chewing on your lip as you watched him examine the art. 

He scoffed. “Obviously. Look at it.” 

You blushed at how candid he was with his praise, his belief that what you created was so good that there wouldn’t even be a question as to whether he liked it or not. That it should’ve already been obvious to you. 

“Is that how I look to you?” He asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the painting. 

You’d just painted him how you saw him, paying close attention to the features that you liked the most. Taking your time to get the pink of his hair the right shade, to draw out the crimson in his eyes, to paint his smirk just right, making sure it was just as handsome as the one that usually graced his face when he was around you. 

“That is how you look.” You said simply, not really understanding his question. 

“Mmm.” He hummed, not elaborating on his query any further. He smiled softly as he continued to look at the painting. “Is this meant to be the flower field?” 

“Yeah! Although I’m not sure if I got all the colours quite right. It's been so long since we were there.” You said, a hint of longing in your tone. You desperately wanted to go back. 

“I can take you there again.” Sukuna offered quickly. “Now that your ankle is feeling better, it might be good to get you out and about for a while.” 

“Yeah?” You asked, eyes glistening as you looked at him. 

“Yeah. It's a date.” 

a/n: thanks for reading!! hope you enjoyed the fluff after last chapter's stress! will be back with a new chapter next weekend :)

Just let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! thank you for all the support on this fic, reblogs and comments are appreciated as always <3

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© sukunahs

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REQUEST NUMBER TWO!! trying to put these out at lightning speed so yo girl can get an adequate amount of sleep 🙏

i request reader bringing a sea bunny (love those little guys) as an offering to sebastian because reader once again has no data LMAO

- with love, diamond anon 🫶🫶

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐁𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐘

summary : in desperate need for supplies, you stop by sebastians shop in hope he'll have what you need. the only issue? you don't have any data, only a seabunny.

tags : nothings.

note : this is one out of the amazing three requests i was given for sebastian, and i am making it my PRIORITY to have all of these done by tomorrow night, so we're starting on this one ! it's kind of short, but enjoy !

there was good news and bad news.

the good news? you were currently in front of the vent that would allow you to enter sebastian's shop, and that meant you could get the supplies you needed.

the bad news? you had no data. you questioned yourself how it was possible, but then you realized that you hadn't really been focused on grabbing files. at first, it was due to you trying to run for your life due to the amount of times angler decided to pop up.

but then it was because you found this seabunny, and with how cute it was, it was impossible to focus on getting files.

you held the seabunny in one of your hands while your backpack was in the other, and you eyed the creature before letting out a sigh. "lets hope your cuteness works on him..."

the seabunny only kicked its tiny legs as you gently placed it inside your bag, and you zipped it up before crouching at the entrance of the vent.

you placed the backpack inside the vent as you pushed it forward, and you crawled inside while you continued to push the backpack.

your gear banged against the metal vent until you pushed your backpack onto the ground of sebastian's shop, and you could hear shifting from inside the room as you crawled out.

you dusted yourself off before picking up the backpack, and you lifted your head to meet sebastian's gaze.

"need to stock up?" he questioned while he crossed his arms, and he tilted his head at you. "let me guess, batteries?"

"everything, actually," you replied as you walked a bit closer to him, and you set the backpack down on the floor while sebastian stared down at you. his fins slightly twitched as he hummed. "everything? don't tell me you've already managed to waste all of your supplies..."

he clasped his hands together while a grin formed on his face. "luckily for you, i have it all, and everything's yours as long as you have the data for it..."

"about that..." you let out a fairly forced chuckle, and his grin slightly faltered while he stared at you in confusion. "i don't have any data."

sebastian stared at you for a second before blinking a few times, and he let out a scoff. "you don't have any data?"

you could tell he believed you were just joking with him, but as soon as you went silent and only peered at him with a serious expression, it seemed to click that you weren't joking.

"how do you have no data!?" his tone was filled with disbelief, and he narrowed his eyes. "are you lying to me? you have a bad habit of doing that..."

you bent your knees a bit as you reached down to grab your backpack, and you picked it up before holding it out to him.

one of his claws slid into the little handle on the top of your bag, and he slowly lifted it to his face as he undid the zipper. you stood there with your arms crossed while you looked around his shop, but once you heard the bag rustling, you turned your attention back towards sebastian.

who now held your seabunny.

"what. is. this?" he questioned as he squinted at the seabunny, and the creature barely fit in the palm of his hand while it slightly squirmed. light noises rang from it while sebastian tossed your bag, and it went behind you while you frowned. "could you not throw my stuff?"

"could you actually do your job? correctly, i mean." his remark only made you scoff as you turned around to go grab your bag, and sebastian only continued to talk. "you've been through about fifty doors, and this is all you have?"

you picked up your bag before turning around, and you furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance as you faced him.

the seabunny was lifted up so you could see it, and the light from sebastian's illicium lit up the creature a bit so you could note how if slowly relaxed in his grasp.

"it seems to like you." your words made him pause for a moment before he slowly nodded, "right, right—why don't i just give you my whole shop because this thing likes me?"

his words were laced with sarcasm, and you frowned. "listen, you're a lonely person! you need a companion!"

"way to put it lightly, kid."

despite his words, he never denied your statement. he did appear to be lonely, for you really only saw him alone in his shop.

you watched as he seemingly debated your words, and after a moment, he gestured to his tail with his free hand.

"i'll give you a medkit, but only because you look a mess..."

despite his insult, you only gifted him a smile. "i'll take it, sebby."

"call me that again and i'll change it to a dweller chunk."

you hastily walked over to his tail before taking off the medkit, and you gave sebastian a quick wave as you headed over towards the vent before he could change his mind. "THANK YOU, SEBASTIAN!"

"goodbye," he spoke as he waved back at you. once he heard your gear bang against the vent for a second before it fell silent, he knew that you had officially left.

now, it was just him and the seabunny.

he stared at the creature before slightly lifting it up, "yay..." his words were whispered as the seabunny was moved back to its original position, and then sebastian lifted it up again. "yippie..."

he liked this thing more than he was willing to admit.

[sweetverine]

MR. HOWLETT | professor!logan

warnings: MDNI (+18), smut, porn with a bit of plot, student-professor relationship dynamics, power relationship, age gap, afab reader, pet names, cockwarming, no use of protection, pulling out, dirty talk, praise too)?

a/n : it's been a long time, i know, prof!lo has just been on my mind 24/7 i needed to do something about it, idk what to think about this, it's purely filth so........ also this pic of hugh????🫠 yall can imagine the logan you want for this one 𖹭 hope you enjoy it

When you entered university, the subjects were somewhat difficult, but you managed them. The first semester was fine, without too many problems, and even good grades. You were good at what you did, earning the occasional compliment from professors for your good performance.

But, when your parents were unable to pay your college tuition, things got complicated, forcing you to get a job if you wanted to keep studying. You had to divide your time, one day working, another studying, other days half work and half study.

This routine began to affect you, the subjects became somewhat difficult each time, meaning that you had to pay more attention, more time that you didn't have. Your concentration was zero, every time you tried to sit down to study you found yourself unable to do so.

and worse? You had started failing in a particular class, mostly the most unbearable and hated one; History. It was a heavy class, boring. You yawned every two minutes at the matters discussed in the two weekly hours.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ *⁠.⁠✧∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

At this particular hour You held his cheek against your elbow, resting on the table, looking in a boring way at the professor, you sigh. Your gaze slid towards his arms while you didn't listen to his senseless words, Mr. Howlett was never an ugly guy. In fact, he's Quite the opposite; Handsome, Tall, smart, nice hair, flattering glasses and an athlete's body. Every girl's dream.

That white shirt folded up to his forearms really pleased your sight. You could feel the heat rising from your neck to his ears as your mind plotted all the things professor logan could do with those arms, or the things he could do with his big hands, even the things that mouth — besides not stopping talking about history — gives fantastic kisses, capable of making some legs tremble.

Your eyes went further down, meeting with his jeans and his somewhat extravagant leather belt. You could notice how big his legs were, even though he was already big, those jeans just flattered him, you also found a normal bulge that any man has. And there you question about it, How big is it? I'm sure it's bigger when it gets hard, is it thick? Oh god. Why are you thinking about this?

you licked your lips, closing your eyes before going back to his boring lecture. He's too handsome to be talking about boring matters, even though it makes him hotter. This was the real reason for your bad grades, being distracted on the clouds thinking about Mr. howlett. You could feel something heavy in you, which led you to look at him, meeting his gaze, speaking while he didn't take his eyes off yours. Your cheeks burn and you decide to break the totally awkward exchange.

“read the entire unit for next class.” He said, ending the class. As soon as the hour was up, you rushed to try to escape, quickly putting away your notebook, your pencil case and water too, you put on your backpack, feeling a little relieved to finally be free, everyone was doing the same thing as you, others already leaving.

You put on your backpack, Now calm down, you had to worry about other things now, but surviving this class was the goal of your day. You were getting closer and closer to the desired classroom door. There weren't many people, just a few girls along with boys leaving, including the professor who hadn't left yet, who was sitting at his desk, reading some papers that were displaced on his desk.

you reached for the door, almost feeling free but a deep, masculine voice stopped you in your tracks.

“Hey, Miss, I have to talk to you about some things. don't leave yet.” Logan said, looking towards your back.

‘Fuck’ You whispered, slowly turning around and walking towards his desk, watching the other students leave, achieving your desired freedom.

“I wanted to know if you are aware of your grades.” He says, looking at you with those hazel green eyes, your pulse drummed on your chest at the mention of your grades.

“u-uh.. yeah, I know I'm not doing too well in this subject..” You looked away, avoiding his gaze, respectfully.

“That is true, You also have work to hand in, this is the second one you haven't given to me.” His voice makes you shiver, and nervousness begins to take hold of you. “Is there any reason for that?”

The awkwardness in the room was more than palpable, You swallow dryly.

“I started working full time, paying for college is becoming a little difficult for me.” you say, being honest with him and your situation.

He nodded slowly, hearing you sincerely. You were afraid of what he was going to say next, the silence made you more anxious.

“Your situation is not really an excuse,” He says, leaning back, his voice is firm but not cruel

“but… I can't not give you a chance when life kicks you in the ass.” He says, his face serious, grabbing a pen.

“I'll make time, come to see me tomorrow.” He writes something on a piece of paper on his desk.

“I'll tutor you.”

Your cheeks turned red, “R-really?..” That was too fast, Since when is he so considerate?

“Don't make me repeat myself, Miss.”

His voice echoed in your ears, almost leaving you dumbfounded. you hum softly.

“Goodbye, Mr Howlett, thank you.” you mutter, Giving him a little smile before starting to walk away from the classroom, sighing when you finally step out of it.

These are going to be long private classes.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ*⁠.∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°

After 4 tutoring classes, your grades got slightly better. Mr Howlett was more than a good teacher, you handed in the work you were missing and he was patient enough for you, explaining everything slowly and easier.

Now you're 10 minutes late to his tutoring class. With nervousness you knock the door twice, You don't think he'll have mercy on you this time. Your sweaty hands grabbed the knob and entered the office. The only light was a lamp that he kept on his desk, illuminating the desk with a warm tone.

“You're late.” Logan was eyeing some history book, with the glasses fitted on the bridge of his nose and shirt sleeves rolled up. The room seems to get smaller as you walk towards the chair, sitting in front of him.

“I'm sorry.. I came straight from work.” You say, opening your backpack, Swallowing saliva. The cold wood chilled your thighs, making you shiver a little.

“Open to page 203.” His voice deep, His hands Reached slowly to close the book he was reading, with his attention fully on you now, he places it beneath a little drawer on the desk.

His orders were simple and concise, in a tone that brooks no resistance.

You tried to concentrate, you really tried, but his fingers brushed against the paper, the watch on his wrist ticking away at the minutes, like a countdown. Your body was tense without any logical reason.

Well, deep in you, you knew why, and who was making you this way.

“What does Marx mean by class struggle?” He asks, looking at the text.

You stayed silent, you didn't even read the first paragraph.

“Well?” His voice raised a little, almost demanding. “You didn't read it, did you?” His brow furrowed.

“I–I'm trying. I swear.. I just…”

The silence felt like a slap in the face, and for a moment the weight of the room was heavier. Logan slammed the book down on the desk, making you jump slightly. His eyes stare into yours.

“you said you wanted my help, you wanted to pass.” His hands kept on the book.

“I do.. I really do.” You start, trying to convince him, you didn't want to fail his subject.

“Then why don't you commit to this?”

“I have too many things in my mind, work.. other subjects” You explain, sighing, avoiding his eye contact now.

“And isn't history a subject you have to commit to as well?” He kept going, every time more intense.

You are feeling so frustrated now, almost wanting to cry for the raising of his voice, and how angry he seemed to be at you. Logan lays back on his chair, sighing deeply. His hand taking off his glasses and letting them fall on the wooden desk.

After a while he speaks again, rejoining again. “We'll try something new.” Something dirty in his tone that made you tremble slightly.

“Get up.” He says, although he's more calm down, the annoyance doesn't let go of him yet.

And you did.

“desk.”

“What?” your brow furrowed, looking at him.

“Up. On. The. Desk.” His raspy voice quickened your pulse again, and you could see him move his chair aside, making room for you. You obey with a blush on your face. Then he gets closer, His big hands explore, starting to caress your waist.

“Mr. Howlett–” Your voice sounds quite breathy, but not doing anything to pull away. as the touches begin to heat up everything, his fingers unbutton your pants. He didn't say a word until he left you in your underwear.

“you better try.”

You hate that this situation makes you wet.

Without much ceremony, he sat you on his lap, it was a situation worse than embarrassing, and it is worse that you let him do it. His warm hand never left your waist, keeping you in place. You listen to his belt clicking behind you, it is going to happen.

Silently he accommodates you slowly. His cock, as far as you could see, was big and thick, almost like in your imagination.

“Sit, take it all the way down.” He whispered in your ear.

You swallow. Your legs were shaking as you settled on top of him, your knees on the sides of the chair, next to his thighs. You felt his tip gently brush against you, making you shudder.

“L-logan..” You bite your lower lip, his hands wrapped around your waist, caressing the skin softly.

“Shh.. not a word. Sit.” He guides you again, his tone more gentle.

You slowly sat up, feeling him fill you inch by inch. It was difficult not to moan when he was all the way in. you could feel how thick he was, opening you up mercilessly. you were already getting agitated and unconsciously, your hips moved by reflex but his hand kept you still.

“No.” His voice firm as his hand.

“You're going to stay still.”

“But, Logan–”

“No, you listen to me.” He says, squeezing your hip roughly. “You're going to stay here, quiet, paying attention and reading out loud.”

He leaned forward onto the desk, his chest pressed against your back. His hands left your hips, grabbing the book he had left on the table. not taking you off him, as if he weren't hard inside you. As if you weren't dripping wet, pulsing around him.

“start with paragraph two.”

You bit your lip, your voice only managed to come out shaky. “S–social classes… for m-marxism are defined by the relations o-of…production, that is—”

“Slower.” He whispered in your ear.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to concentrate with all your might. But he was still there, inside, hard and heavy. every inch of him makes it difficult to think straight.

“Do you want to pass this class, Miss?” His gruff voice almost made you melt around him.

“I do.” You mutter.

“Then show me.”

You tried to move your hips again, only to be stopped by him again. “Did I say you could move?”

“N-no..” You whisper, already feeling frustrated.

“Exactly.” He kept you steady on his cock, not letting you move, not even squirm on him.

So you keep going, Reading slowly and out loud, with a broken voice, your nipples aching beneath your shirt and his cock throbbing inside of you. It takes you a few minutes more than normal to finish one. single. paragraph. it's pure torture .

“It wasn't that hard, wasn't it?” He whispers. “See? you just needed a little motivation.”

His hand goes a little lower, finding your puffy clit His thick fingers starting to rub it gently, You tremble, letting out a breathy moan. “L-logan..” Your eyes go shut, enjoying the stimulation he was giving you, your hips move towards his hand, and it pulls away quickly just as it began.

“concentrate.” He says as you whine.

You sigh, hating his teasing and how wet it makes you when he toys with you. His hands go to your hips, caressing you softly, almost soothingly for being so cruel with you. you start a new paragraph, only to be cut off a few lines later by him.

“Then what will be the goal of the revolution?” He whispered, his nose buried on your neck.

“T–the revolution will aim to achieve a perfect society where there is neither ... .exploiters nor exploited…” You answered correctly, making him smirk.

“That's my good girl. that's what you needed, hmm?” He praised you, feeling you clench around him when he said a pet name to your ear.

“Just one more paragraph, angel.” He whispered, his hands Going up to your boobs, squeezing them gently underneath your shirt. You started reading it, still somewhat stumbling and shaky, but faster than before.

Reading the last sentence, you simply relax against him, biting your lower lip. “G-god..”

“You're tired already?” He whispered. “Just a short page, I still have many more things to explain to you..” you whine in response, completely refused to read more with this torture. “I didn't say we're finished.”

“No please.. i-i can't do this anymore” You moan breathly.

“you're such a needy thing.” He groaned, feeling how you squeeze him again. “cant even fucking read something and staying obedient.” His hand finds your clit again, toying with it gently, Your hips move, rubbing yourself against his calloused fingers.

You whimper, bouncing softly on his thick cock, His groans just makes you wetter, the tip brushes that sweet spot that makes you fold every time. But as quickly as it started, you started to get tired within minutes.

“Now what, bunny? Have you sung yet?” He huffs.

With a little force, he gets up from the chair, without leaving you yet, pressing you down onto the cold desk. You moaned, arching your back.

“You're going to take it now, I've been wanting this since I saw you looking at me with those eyes in class, don't think I didn't notice.” He mutters as he slowly starts to move, slowly getting in and out, The sound of skins clashing, your low moans and Logan's grunts provided the soundtrack for the moment.

“Are you like this with all the teachers? huh?”

“Answer when I talk to you.” He says, Expecting an answer, You were too caught up in the moment, too dumb to think straight.

“No! fuck.. I-i'm sorry..” You whisper, closing your eyes.

Your knuckles turned white as you held on to the desk, your cheek pressed against the wood. Logan's pace was brutal now, dragging moans from your lips with each thrust, his hips slamming into you with growing urgency.

“Dirty girl, feel what you do to me.”

Your walls clench around him as he talks to you, you only nodding, your legs tremble, His hand reaches around to rub your clit again, this time without mercy. Fast. Intentional.

"Logan..please! 'm close, I need—”

"Then come," he growled, slamming into you. "Show me how much you've learned, angel. fuck come on”

That was all it took. Your body trembled with the intensity of your climax, clenching around him so tight he groaned your name, fucking you through it.

“Fuck–baby…” He groaned, almost losing it as it came out of you, without wasting time it began to stroke himself. hot, white spurts of cum spilled over on your back. warm and messy as he groaned deep and low, collapsing forward, panting against your shoulder.

A beat of silence. Just you and him, both tired.

“Read everything for the next lesson.” He said breathlessly.

[bbyyuuu]

can we try it, hyung?

MDNI

pairing: lee minho X han jisung.

genre: smut, light fluff.

synopsis: minho always see jisung as innocent goof ball unlike him but, is it really true?

TW: smut, dom minho, sub jisung, face fucking, gagging, slightly rough, dirty talk, degradation-praise, pet names (baby, kitten)mention of sex toys. missing something? lmk if you find it out.

A/n: what did i even write? i'm sorry i was in a rush and i hope it isn't that bad and also as i sad, English isn't my first language, bear with me..anyways enjoy <33 and lmk if there are any silly spelling mistakes, i don't want to embarrass myself even more T_T

also, please give me a feedback and reblog if you like it, it makes me crazily happy and help me build my account and write more :D

don't repost. don't translate. dni - minors, ageless & default blogs

Life with minho is always good to jisung, getting spoiled, showered with attention, and most importantly, sex. Jisung always get shy the moment he sees minho naked, don't blame the poor boy, he is just shy by nature, and lord!! minho's body is perfection, his arms, honey skin, toned abs and chest, and those damn thighs jisung liked to ride until his mind goes blank, anyone would gown down on their knees for him.

Unaware to minho, jisung isn't just a ball of innocence who lets minho take control every time they do it, he himself have few erotic thoughts in his mind dreaming to try them with him, one of them includes face fucking. Yeah, never in their life jisung gave a blow job to minho. why? because minho always stopped him explaining that he couldn't take it and the fact he doesn't want to hurt him. Pfft, that only made jisung more desperate to try it and he ends up practicing it for weeks while watching videos and buying sex toys without minho knowing.

Today is an another day of hell for jisung, he sat on the couch with the screen in front of him playing a Rom-com drama but his attention was on anything other than that, and why? he was aroused. wet for minho. The problem started that morning when minho wrapped his arms around jisung and sucked on his neck leaving a mark before leaving to work. It was just a casual moment for minho expressing his love for his boyfriend, but boy jisung got aroused it.

he squirmed in his seat, trying to find friction to soothe the dirty thoughts running in his mind, the idea of minho finding him like this, wet and dripping just for him, and then face fucking him roughly-

The soft click of the door closing interrupted his filthy thoughts and jisung rose to he feet rushing to the living room to find minho removing his shoes, the dress shirt hugging his body in all the right places and the jeans, Oh my god.

Minho looked up, a sweet smile spreading across his face when his eyes met his boyfriend's. "hello "

"hi.." jisung replied, his tone shy and shaky, the boy took a few steps towards minho and giggled the moment he hugged him.

Jisung soon found himself tucked in minho's arms, a baby blue blanket covering them both, it felt like heaven in minho's arms as if shielding him away from all the problems, but no..not when the problem is minho.

Jisung occasionally squirmed in his seat, rubbing his thighs together, trying hard not to let out the whimpers he was holding in, and of course that didn't went unnoticed my minho. How could he? when his cute boyfriend is suffering in silence?

Minho’s fingers trailed lazily down Jisung’s spine, tracing the curve of his back as he laid on his arms. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across their bodies. Jisung shivered under Minho’s touch, his breath catching softly as those fingers dipped lower, brushing over the swell of his ass.

And minho smirked secretly knowing the effect he have on him. such a devil.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Minho murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the nape of Jisung’s neck, his lips hot against his skin, testing the waters. “Every inch of you drives me crazy.”

Jisung exhaled sharply, his hands gripping the sheets tightly. He was still getting used to this—Minho’s relentless attention, the way he worshipped his body like it was something sacred. It made him feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the best way possible. His heart pounded in his chest, anticipation curling low in his stomach and he couldn't hold himself back.

“Minho…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

Minho chuckled softly, already hearing the desperate need in his voice, his breath warm against Jisung’s ear. “What is it, baby?”

Jisung hesitated, biting his lip. He had been thinking about this for weeks, fantasizing about it when Minho wasn’t around. The idea of Minho taking control, of him thrusting into his mouth until he couldn’t breathe—it made his cheeks burn with both embarrassment and desire.

“I…” he started, his voice barely audible. “I wanna try…something.”

The words hung in the air for a moment, heavy and charged. Minho smiled, his fingers stilling against Jisung’s skin.

"what is it, baby? tell me.." Minho buried his face in his hair inhaling the soft scent of his boyfriend.

Jisung whined feeling waves of embarrassment flooding to his cheeks, and slowly looked up at him minho, eyes sparkling. "can..you..fuck my mouth?"

Minho froze, he did not expect that, not even in his dreams he thought jisung would speak dirty words all while looking so innocent. Then, slowly, he leaned back, his gaze darkening as he looked down at Jisung, a smirk replacing his shocked face.

“Is that what you want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jisung nodded, his face flushing even deeper. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice shaky. “I wanna feel you…in my mouth. I wanna choke on you.”

Minho’s eyes widened, a flicker of something primal passing through them. He reached down, cupping Jisung’s face in his hands, his thumb brushing over his cheek.

“Fuck, Jisung,” he groaned, his voice thick with need. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Before Jisung could respond, Minho leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. It was hungry, demanding, and Jisung melted into it instantly. His hands moved to grip Minho’s shoulders, pulling him closer as their tongues tangled together.

Minho broke the kiss reluctantly, his breathing ragged as he looked down at Jisung. “You’re sure about this?” he asked, his voice serious but filled softness. “I don’t wanna push you too far.”

Jisung nodded again, his eyes wide and pleading. “I’m sure,” he whispered. “I want you to fuck my face, hyung. I wanna feel you deep in my throat.”

Minho groaned, his cock twitching at Jisung’s words. “Fuck, where did you even learn those, baby?” he muttered, leaning down to press another kiss to Jisung’s lips. “You’re gonna kill me, Jisung.”

He shifted, pulling Jisung up into a kneeling position and sat in front of him. Jisung’s heart raced as Minho leaned back, his cock already hard and straining against his sweats. Minho hooked his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down along with the boxers slowly, and Jisung’s breath hitched as his cock sprang free, thick and flushed with need.

“Open your mouth, baby,” Minho instructed, his voice low and commanding, his usual soft and caring demeanor disappearing.

Jisung obeyed instantly, his lips parting as Minho guided his cock to his mouth. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze locking with Jisung’s, before slowly pushing forward. The head of his cock bumped against Jisung’s lips, and Jisung moaned softly, his tongue darting out to lick at the tip.

“That’s it,” Minho groaned, his hands tangling in Jisung’s hair. “Just like that, kitten.”

Jisung opened his mouth wider at the pet name, taking more of Minho’s cock into his mouth. It was thick and heavy on his tongue, the taste of him overwhelming his senses. He moaned again, his hands gripping Minho’s thighs as he started to bob his head slowly.

“Fuck, kitten,” Minho hissed, his fingers tightening in Jisung’s hair. “You’re so fucking good at this.”

Jisung’s cheeks burned at the praise, but it only made him more eager. He took Minho deeper, his throat relaxing as he swallowed around him. Minho groaned, his hips rocking forward slightly, and Jisung’s eyes watered as his cock pushed further into his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” Minho whispered, his voice rough. “Take it. Take all of me.”

Jisung moaned around him, the vibrations sending sparks of pleasure up Minho’s spine. He started to move faster, his hips thrusting roughly as he fucked Jisung’s mouth. Jisung’s lips stretched around him, saliva dripping down his chin as he took every inch.

“You’re such a filthy cocksucker,” Minho groaned, the degradation making jisung whimper, he loved every second of it. “Look at you, swallowing my cock like you were born for it.”

Jisung whimpered again, his cock throbbing in his boxers at the words. He loved this—the way Minho degraded him, made him feel so damn dirty and used. It made him feel alive.

Minho’s thrusts grew more erratic, his grip on Jisung’s hair tightening. “Fuck, Jisung,” he gasped, his hips stuttering. “I’m close, baby. I’m gonna come.”

Jisung’s eyes fluttered closed, his mouth opening wider as Minho thrust deep, his cock hitting the back of his throat. He gagged slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he swallowed around him, his tongue pressing against the underside of his cock.

Minho groaned loudly, his hips snapping forward as he came, his cock pulsing in Jisung’s mouth. Jisung swallowed every drop, his throat working around him as Minho emptied himself down his throat.

When Minho finally pulled back, Jisung was panting, his lips swollen and glistening with spit. Minho looked down at him, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“Fuck, Jisung,” he said, his voice hoarse. “You’re incredible.”

Jisung blushed, his hands trembling as he wiped his mouth. “Did I…did I do okay?” he asked shyly.

Minho smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “You did more than okay, baby,” he said softly. “You were perfect.”

Jisung’s heart swelled at the words, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. He leaned into Minho’s touch, his body humming with satisfaction.

Minho pulled him into his arms, holding him close as he pressed soft kisses to his hair. “I’m sorry if I got too rough,” he whispered, his voice laced with guilt. “I didn’t mean to—”

Jisung cut him off with a shake of his head. “It was perfect,” he said softly. “I loved it.”

Minho’s lips curved into a smile as he kissed Jisung’s forehead again. “Good,” he murmured. “Because we’re definitely doing that again.”

Jisung’s cheeks flushed, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. He snuggled closer to Minho, his body still tingling with pleasure.

"but baby, where did you even learn that from? i never knew you.." Minho trailed off, gently rubbing his back and kissed his cheek.

"I..i knew it..am not that innocent as you think.." Jisung mumbled, heat creeping up to his cheek making him hide his face. Minho chuckled ruffling the boy's hair.

"shh, it's okay. i was just surprised. i always though you were innocent about these things." Jisung bit his lip and looked up at him, eyes turning doe and sparkly. "i..watched..and practiced..on dildo.."

Minho gasped, chocking on his own saliva, eyes widening and he pulled back from jisung to look at his face. "are you serious, baby? i never knew you were this naughty? dildo? when did you buy that thing?"

Jisung hid his face whining at the sudden questions, regretting his decisions. "weeks ago, i want to be good for you.." and minho's face softened even more, he gently lifted his chin to face him and smiled. "my little baby, doing something so dirty behind my back..you were perfect and all mine"

jisung blushed, cheeks painting a deep shade of red and minho had to hold himself back from biting those cheeks. "you still have them?" he questioned earning a nod from jisung and a smirk spread across his face. "Good, next time we are using them.."

jisung nodded blushing like a tomato, “I love you, hyung” , he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Minho’s arms tightened around him, his lips pressing another kiss to his hair. “I love you too, baby,” he said softly. “More than anything.”

[thetrasha]

oughfff tasha that rosinante request was just so!!! made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside

but i come to you with another idea for a fic!! id love to see kid with reader that is so oblivious to his (questionable) advances- i thought this would be fun because i feel he would have such a hard time facing these feelings. now imagine him trying to do something about this while reader just thinks hes had a change of heart suddenly? theyre happily oblivious to the catastrophe that is him. the crew is losing their mind. kid is on the verge of throwing himself off a cliff.

i hope this isnt too specific for you, i tried to keep it vague yet give you a somewhat solid idea. as always take care of yourself and make sure to give yourself a break once in a while :') the weather is absolute hell and frankly you posting content so frequently amazes me but its also?? kind of concerning?? i mean if you arent getting burnout from all that then im happy for you but please dont push yourself too much,,,

Hellooooo, I finally got to this request ╰(*°▽°*)╯It took some time, but here we are~

I'm so glad you liked the Rosinante request, Alien anon let me cook with that one LOL It's a totally different vibe from this Kid request - especially because the reader is a very special flavour of "oblivious", but I'm proud of both works 🫡So yeah, I think this one is pretty good, too :D Hope you like it! It wasn't too specific at all, this is perfectly fine <33 Heads up, yep it's pretty long too sigh

PS. It's so sweet that you're worrying about me, but fret not! I write because I love doing this... and I'm at the height of my creative zen right now. Things will screech to a halt once I go back to uni so I'm as free as I can be currently (●'◡'●) I do take breaks! :D But I'll take your words to heart, I promise

The Devil's in the Details

feat. KID

You’d originally been recruited… because of your looks. Now, don’t get him wrong – he didn’t keep you around as eye candy, it’s just that… the Kid Pirates were a rather unconventional-looking bunch of misfits.

As much as everybody tried to deny it, appearance mattered… and they couldn’t get any reliable information out of anyone without threatening them. They were all social rejects in their own right – too brutish, to brash, too strange.

In a way, it had become their brand, and Kid even expressed that he liked to strike the fear of God in people who were too weak to speak to someone like him… but it had become a liability as soon as they entered the Grandline, far away from the regular Four Oceans where threats actually accomplished something. Grandline natives inhabiting all kinds of extremes, from prehistoric summer islands to high tech snowy tundras, were absolutely used to looting and pillaging if they didn’t raise another pirate’s flag, marking their territory – they simply weren’t impressed by some rookie nuisances, comparing their bounties – the very same that got them everything they wanted in the South Blue – to the Warlords or the Emperors instead… In these waters, people were used to real apex predators.

The Kid Pirates were turning entire villages into bloodbaths, not just because these fools disrespected their ambitions but also because nobody would even let them rent a room at an inn.

You looked plain compared to them – an ideal spy.

Well, not what you signed up for initially, but it has indeed become your de facto job among the crew. And since you were so sweet, people easily gave up information that could be useful. That’s indeed how the Victoria Punk avoided being captured by the Navy several times. People were just… eager to talk when the person they’re talking to exudes calm security and peace.

Nobody even suspected that you were a pirate. To be honest, most people assumed you were a pretty noble that has lost their way and somehow ended up in rundown inns and hostels looking for a place to sleep and recoup alongside your “friends”.

Of course, your recruitment went well… as well as it could considering the circumstances back then.

You were sent to military school as a young child, getting an education that far exceeded that of the Officers of the Victoria Punk, but you didn’t use it to actually enlist in the Navy after graduating – you’d almost joined the Revolutionary Army instead. And just before you could sail to their base all by yourself, having been prejudiced against for being low-born yourself during school and experiencing all kinds of bullying, you saw a saviour in those that wanted to overthrow the system.

But you just had to ram the Kid Pirates head-on, the collision rattling both of your ships to their very core.

You’d been interrogated for days even though most of the crew agreed to throw you overboard and leave your survival up to fate, but Kid wasn’t so sure about that course of action.

You intrigued him.

In fact, you reminded him of himself.

If life hadn’t been so rigged against him, he might have followed into your footsteps as well. Nobody would ever know – but that look in your eyes, that fire… it mirrored his own.

You were headstrong and knew what you wanted, and you wouldn’t rest until you got it. In your case, at that very moment, that was justice. Clearly, you wanted to punish everyone who’s ever wronged you and hunt them down like the arrogant swine they are, but Kid could offer you something better than that:

He offered retribution.

And you’d proven yourself… time and time again.

For someone who was easily able to manipulate and mark persons of interest, you were a dense klutz, though.

It was harmless in the beginning; you spent most of your time around the Officers, not because you were one of them, but… because Kid ordered you to stay by their side, preferably his. Killer shook his head every time the Captain said something along those lines, very much knowing that you didn’t need protection.

Besides, you were warming up to them and they could see your potential now… and they’ve seen it up-close, too. You were… different.

The more conventional you looked, the less conventional was your fighting style. You fought less like a pirate – much less a member of the Kid Pirates – and more like a marine. Now, it had its reasons, of course. Kid was aware of that…

But it was actually fascinating to watch you compensate your lacking strength with a perfect technique. You could wield many weapons effortlessly as long as you could lift them, which made you a versatile combatant.

...Alas, Kid often refused to let you storm into battle. You were supposed to be a scout, someone who’s… digging up other people’s secrets – not gaining a bounty of your own.

If only you weren’t… you, though.

“Look at you clowns! Pathetic. I could have helped but someone sent me flying into the sea because I happened to wear a cobalt necklace.”, you sneered at Heat, Killer and Kid who’d gotten badly injured after the ruins of a burning house – one that Heat set on fire – crashed down upon them.

You had barely been in their vicinity, watching from the mere sidelines as your sword clashed with someone else's from the village’s militia. Of course, you found yourself far away from that place just seconds later – so suddenly that even your previous opponent had to process this as well.

Now, you were sopping wet, but didn’t feel any different… because you had no Devil Fruit powers and could swim perfectly fine. Wire had been lightly injured compared to the rest, mainly because he simply side-stepped with his gigantic legs and left the other men to their demise.

“You dare speak to me like that, (Y/N)?!”, Kid argued back with a smirk on his face, using his own powers on you again by lifting you off the ground and letting your feet dangle in the air. Droplets fell onto the wooden deck like he was wringing you out, and you just looked at him like a feral cat.

“Shut up! If I didn’t know it any better, I would say you were trying to get yourself killed. You almost got grilled and decided to drop ME into open water, MAN!!! Don’t you think before you do anything?!”

Killer, Heat and Wire just sweatdropped at the frustrated growl Kid let out.

...And it only got worse from there.

“Made me tea, Captain? What’s going on? Have you and Killer switched bodies or something?”, you joked, taking the cup out of his hands. It was a herbal mixture, but smelled pretty sweet – just how you liked it.

“Killer brings you tea?”, Kid asks, gritting his teeth before plopping down next to you.

Originally, he… he didn’t know why he needed to do this, actually.

You were just cosily snuggling into your blankets during leisure in the common room and the Captain had been stuck in his workshop all day. For some reason, he thought this would help him wind down.

He was evidently wrong.

“He does. I mean, not every single day, but he says that he’s there to boil water anyway.”

“You like it when a man does these things for you?”, he asked with a huff, hogging one of your blankets now.

“Eh? I don’t really care about that, Captain. Killer’s my friend – nothing else.”

“That’s not what I as- You know what? Fucking forget it.”, Kid grumbled.

“Geez… sorry, you grump. Killer’s all yours, Kid.”, you said, rolling your eyes.

And you swore his menacing aura sent shivers down your spine.

And worse…

“You’re insufferable. I hate you!”, Kid shouted with a blush as soon as you insisted he’d undress under your impatient gaze.

You’ve noticed that Kid’s stump had been plaguing him, painful tingles making him stop dead in his tracks whenever he had to lift what was left of that arm and perform everyday tasks without his metal prosthetic.

And because you cared about the Captain, you offered to massage the muscle that had been cut short, now left deformed... None of the other men would ever dare to ask to help him, especially since they were all so emotionally repressed. They’d probably rather die than be so casually affectionate instead of proving that they’re hardened criminals who ate nails for breakfast or something.

“The audacity.”, you chuckled in reply, watching as he stripped his jacket off.

You’d never tell anyone that he was quite cute being so blushy like that.

You felt around his maimed arm and shoulder, applying pressure to different parts that only earned yourself cool hums.

“Don’t be shy. I don’t mind some pretty hands all over my – FUCK! Warn a guy next time, bastard.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, squeezing that particular part on his stump again, which made him hiss this time. He tried to suppress it, but the pain became unbearable.

“Your entire shoulder is fucked up.”, you deadpanned.

“YOU DON’T SAY?!”, Kid growled, almost ready to look for his red jacket again and flee from your judgement… - he only wanted to look strong in front of you, “That’s your medical expertise?! Thank God I didn’t recruit you as a doctor, we would have all succumbed to scurv- Y-OUCH!”

You smiled wryly, slowly massaging the knot you’ve found, apologising profusely for hurting him.

Your touch became feather-light and… he didn’t hate the feeling. You were trying to gain the courage to squeeze that vicious knot again, probably remnants of his torn triceps that now dangled around there somewhere.

Although you were an amateur at best, he was… grateful. Your fingers might not have healed him, but they sure as Hell distracted him from the constant buzzing he felt there.

It might have lost its original meaning when he said it like that, but your hands were magical.

“You know, I could… return the favour… treat you just right…”, Kid tried to flirt, knowing that you were sharing a pretty intimate moment right now. He’s truly never been this close to you… and you were blindingly pretty if he was being honest.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’d like to keep that arm, Captain.”, you winked, teasing back.

As always, you didn’t take him seriously at all.

Usually, he prided himself on that suave, deep timbre that vibrated in his chest… it worked like a charm, especially with people who were looking for danger.

Didn’t work on you though.

The next day, Killer wondered why Kid looked at you like you’d neutered him – his mean mug was… unsettling.

…Even worse…

“You’re drunk.”, you sighed, shaking your head at Kid who’d been downing shot after shot ever since your crew arrived at this bar.

It was strangely humid in here and the furniture looked… frail if not rotten. You refused to sit down and tried to convince everyone to get up and move to a different part of this island – one you’d seen with your own eyes, already banking on brokering a killer bargain for your overnight stay… breakfast included, of course.

You flushed, cheeks hotter than ever. If he looked close enough, he could probably see steam rising from your every pore.

“I can hold my liquor.”, Kid smirked, pawing at your own coat and trying to coax you into his lap, “You can sit here and even hang off of me. Makes me look good.”

You knew that Kid was… well, like this, but this was a new low even for him.

“That’s… no, Kid. I will not. You’re drunk.”

Heat left the table, knowing that he couldn’t continue watching this. He deliberately chose a seat that would have his back facing you guys. Killer wished, from the bottom of his heart, that he could leave, too, but that would only rile their captain up even further. It was a lose-lose situation, soon everybody would be caught in the crossfire.

“I want you all over me.”, Kid purred – which prompted Killer to leave no matter what his rationale demanded. This was… what the Hell was this, Captain?!

“I told you, didn’t I? You’re insufferable.”, he smirked seductively, but it didn’t come across that way at all.

“HUH?!”, you exclaimed, leaning forward as your eyes almost popped out of your skull…

You left the bar in a hurry, seemingly uncomfortable with the entire situation.

That was the last straw for Kid.

He thought he was obvious. There were plenty opportunities for you to show your desires… and at this point, he was embarrassing himself.

The next course of action would be to slowly cut you out of his life, even if it would break his heart. He’d never admit this to himself.

To save face, he smashed the table he was sitting at to pieces.

…Possibly worst of all, however,…

“You’re avoiding me.”, you muttered suddenly.

And Kid… had a heart attack.

He was sitting at his drawing board, brainstorming new ideas for a cool new invention that would help navigate the latter half of the Grandline… and he’d been so focused that he didn’t even hear that you entered his workshop. The very place that was taboo for everyone but him, but… fuck, he couldn’t even be mad at you.

“I haven’t.”, he snapped – knowing that he very much did indeed try to avoid you. It was… like torture.

He wanted you to be his, but you’d never accept it. You’ve made your disinterest clear and kept things strictly platonic between you. You probably were just as kind towards Wire… or – he shouldn’t finish that thought; he was so pettily jealous that he was about to shatter his jawbone from grinding his teeth against one another so hard.

Your eye twitched in frustration, a habit you picked up from him. If he was a better man, he would have visibly melted – this time, he just caved with a sigh.

“Okay. I have. What about it? Why do you care?! Leave me alone! Go and do something else, damn it. Scram.”

You smiled sadly – no, broken. It was nothing like the beautiful smile you put on when you were happy. This looked like it pained you. He never wanted to see it again.

“Killer sent me here…”, you confessed, breathing in –

And Kid almost roared in rage, balling his hand into a fist, silently debating whether he should just toss his best friend overboard.

– “So… because of him… I’m here to… confess that I like you! It’s alright if you want me to leave the crew now! I… can pack my thi-”

Yet before you could finish your sentence, Kid had already smashed your faces together.

His lips hotly chased yours – all tongue and all teeth.

It was messy, obnoxious and filled with passion that had just been bubbling under the surface. He did wonder how the Hell you missed his clues all the time but at the same time… you were you. Of course you wouldn’t notice a damn thing, casually oblivious to his advances.

His arm went to your throat, holding you in place – and subtly dominating you, just as payback for making him work for this moment. You were going to be the death of him.

He’s never loved anyone as fiercely as he loved you, probably never will.

“Don’t you fucking dare leave me now.”, Kid spoke, breaking the kiss before moving onto your neck.

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he just wanted to mark you – just in case anybody else would be as dense as you and think that you clearly aren’t his.

His hand slid down to your waist, squeezing the flesh before curling around you and holding you firmly in place.

“I want to be yours.”, he uttered, surprisingly softly.

Your hands found their way into his fiery red hair, gently stroking every strand as his lips founds yours again.

“Because you’ve always been mine.”, he added cockily, smirking when you breathed a chuckle into yet another kiss.

[vro0ms-evil-twin]

Great. My ill cat who has a cardiac issue, to whom we were supposed to give meds daily but it proved impossible so we changed meds and now can give it to him in a bit of cream twice a week instead so things finally got easier, also has hyperthyroidism so we now need to rub some kind of lotion twice daily in his ear??? With gloves??? There's no way he'll let us.

[abyssalpriest]

God I could and should write a whole fucking book by the end of this life here on Lev and his symbols

ill write it then burn it before anyone else gets a copy. or i wont. im supposed to be helping him this incarnation here to get a better anchor in this plane so maybe it would help more than itd be weird - im just getting from him the energy of "yeah no people already effectively have these things, people on my plane already know me inside and out to an extensive degree, may as well have it here too" you know. fair

[novaimperia]

★ asking roommate!sukuna if he’ll pretend to be your boyfriend

“what? no?”

at the moment, you’re both at a frat party you didn’t know the other would be at. if you knew sukuna would be here you still would have gone but, judging by the look of complete and utter irritation on his face, he probably wouldn’t say the same. actually, it was pretty funny to walk into the party, make eye contact with him and watch that ‘you’ve got to be fucking with me’ look manifest in his body language. 

what isn’t as funny is the weird guy in your lecture who can’t take a hint and keeps touching you. he’s here now and the shudders running up and down your body tells you very clearly he’s aware of your presence and has plans to do something about it. 

“sukuna, please. i’ll owe you one.”

sitting on a packed sofa, legs spread, he scowls up at you, piercings glinting with the movement. “i don’t need you to owe me one.”

“sukuna, come on. you’re a scary motherfucker, just be touchy with me for a second and intimidate him.”

he takes a swig of his beer. “put your big girl panties on and tell him to fuck off.”

okay, so clearly he’s not going to change his mind anytime soon. groaning, you stomp away from him and to your friends. you walk over to the kitchen, intent to enjoy this party to the fullest. shots go down in flashes, music blares and deafen, you sway and grind and laugh. nothing will take away this burst of youth where recklessness meets lack of conceivable consequences. 

that’s what you think, anyway, until sweaty hands start rubbing your shoulders. you stiffen. 

“aw, you didn’t need to wear something so slutty for me. you’ve already got my attention.”

you can’t see your friends anymore – there are too many people, too tightly packed together, the lights are too dim and the music too loud to do something about the body pressed up behind you. hairs on your arm standing on end, you fight the disgust recoiling deep in your bones and firmly say, “i’m sorry, i’m really not interested. please leave me alone.”

“don’t be like that, baby. i see the way you look at me.” gripping your hips, he tugs you hard back into him when you try to shuffle away. his clutch is punishing and his nails dig into your skin. you hiss. “let’s go back to my place and i’ll show you a good time.”

pulling you away with him, your friends disappear in the crowd. you’re powerless against his strength. he’s too eager, too clumsy, too drunk to even have any semblance of sense. guys like him are dangerous. guys like him get what they want. guys like him don’t stop at ‘no.’ “let me go! let me fucking go!”

“don’t be a bitc–”

“you hard of hearing or something?” sukuna yanks the guys away by his collar, snatching him up like a puppy. “get the fuck outta here before i beat your ass.”

the guy scoffs, forcing a bravado on. "who the h-hell are you? this is none of your business; she's my girl."

sukuna takes a step forward. a cruel sneer twists his face into something dark, something sinister, practically malevolent. "yeah? explain to me how she finds her way into my bed then."

people are whispering; they've noticed the scene playing out. some are already getting their phones out to record, hoping for a fight. others are taking a step back. they whisper your roommate's name like it's a curse. it reaches your creepy classmate even through his drunken stupor. 

"s-shit." he raises his hands in surrender. "listen man, i didn't know she's with you. i swear. i'll go, alright? just forget about it."

personally unsure why he switched up so quickly when he was doing a fine enough job pretending sukuna's height itself wasn't pissy pants-inducing, you don't dare say a word that might bring his attention back to you. instead, you huddle a little closer to your roommate, who doesn't shake you off when you pinch his shirt for comfort. just like that, the guy that's been bothering you for weeks fades in the background, never to be seen again. hopefully. 

you sigh. “thanks, sukuna.”

he grunts. he’s about to leave, to go back to minding his own business and pretending he doesn’t know you, but then, as if he can’t really help it and he hates himself for it, he eyes you up and down. in that moment, whatever he sees, whatever assessment he makes of your appearance, contrasted with the scene you two find yourself in, urges him to say something that almost sounds painful, so unnatural, so alien to him it brings a shit-eating grin to your face. 

“i’m bored with this place. let’s go…” he winces, rolling his shoulder back. “let’s go home.”

[apatheticsunday]

Single Dad Dead on Main

AKA "Danny is the ghost-equivalent of a foster parent for de-aged Dani and Dan. Jason's just wondering who the hell these two feral meta children are." prompt idea!

Danny thinks he's doing an okay job at being a single dad of two. They're living in a quaint two bedroom apartment in Park Row, he's managing his Ghost King money well, and the kids haven't died (again). (He's definitely not getting a "World's Greatest Dad" mug anytime soon, but, hey, at least the house hasn't burned down yet!)

...Until he wakes up from his nap to an eerily silent apartment.

If there's one thing he's learned over the last few months, it's that silence is not good. He's scrambling off the couch fast enough to give himself a headache, practically flying down the hallway so he can get to the kids' room. Ellie is wedged halfway under her bunk bed. Dan's also squished under the bed but quickly squirms out when he realizes Danny's standing in the door way. He's holding... a socket wrench??

"...do I want to know what you two are doing?" Danny deadpans.

Ellie scrambles out as well, smears of something oily on her cheek. For a seven and eight year old, they have surprisingly convincing I'm innocent! expressions.

"I dunno," Ellie singsongs while Dan simultaneously barks, "Nothing!"

Danny squints. The kids squint back. Yeah, there's definitely something under the bed that's not supposed to be there. Since Dan's holding a wrench (and where the hell did he get that?? Danny doesn't even own any tools aside from maybe a little rubber mallet he found in the hallway closet), Danny hopes thinks it's not an animal.

It takes a minute of arguing in which Danny promises not to be mad, let them eat ice cream, and let them stay up an hour later than curfew for the kids to even let him near the bed without biting him. (Jokes on them, the ice cream is sugar free and Danny's going to reset the clocks to an hour before. Check and mate, bitch! Parenting is so easy.)

And then Danny pulls out... a tire. No, a rim. Two tire rims. Oh, Ancients. Engraved on the tire rim is a red Bat symbol. His stomach nearly drops to the floor; everybody in Crime Alley knows what the Red Hood's symbol looks like. "Eight Heads in a Duffle Bag," Crime Prince of Gotham with a gang big enough to take over all of Park Row. And yeah, Danny could easily beat the guy, but that doesn't mean he wants to. He doesn't want to uproot Dan and Ellie from their schools, move cities, run from yet another organization that wants them dead.

"How did you get this?" Danny asks, utterly dumbfounded.

"I dunno," Ellie says, just as Dan's saying, "Nowhere."

(Danny takes it back. Parenting is definitely not easy.)

"Danielle. Daniel. Where did you get these tire rims?" Danny asks again, more stern this time, to which he only gets shrugs. And that's when he notices the window is open and the screen his missing. "You're kidding me. Did you climb out the window? We're on the third floor!"

"We flew, duh." Ellie rolls her eyes, only shooting a wide-eyed, guilty look to Dan when he elbows her with a vicious shuddup!

"I-okay. Here's what we're going to do. We'll... just return the rims. It's not like the Red Hood saw you two steal them-," Danny stops when Ellie and Dan give each other a side-eye. He knows that look. It's the same look he and Jazz used to give each other when they had a silent agreement about something. Oh, no. No, no, no.

"...he didn't see you, did he?"

Another side-eye look. Oh, Ancients. At least there's no way the Red Hood knows where they are, right?

(Jason stares at the kids playing with his bike. He's not stupid enough to think they couldn't have been paid to sabotage it, but the way the little girl hikes herself up onto the seat and pretends to rev the engine makes him think otherwise. It's cute. The boy mostly seems interested in the engraved bat symbol on his tire rims, scraping at it like it's a 3D decal.

"I wanna be a bicycle-rider when I get bigger. I'll wear the jacket and everything!" The little girl laughs, deepening her voice before saying, "I'm a bicycle-rider! I'll beat you up!"

Jason snorts. He's leaning against the fire escape balcony overhead and it's dark enough for them not to see him, but they both freeze at the soft sound. When nothing happens, the kids relax again.

"It's a motorist, stupid. C'mon, help me take this off and I'll build you one."

"You wanna take the tire? Why?"

"'Cus of the symbol! It's the Batman symbol, do you know how scared people are of 'em? Show 'em this and nobody'll mess with us."

The kid's got a point. Crime Alley knows Red Hood's symbol like the back of their hand, but somehow Jason doesn't think rolling around a tire rim is going to have the same effect. Jason's about to step in when the kid bends the fucking metal with his bare hand. His fucking bike. It looks like the kid barely broke a sweat, too; just wiped his hands on his jeans and started prying apart front of his motorcycle.

Jason's voice is more biting than he means for it to when he shouts, "Hey!" He swings over the fire escape, landing with a heavy thud, before hauling ass towards the kids. Almost immediately the boy yanks the girl behind him and snarls... and his eyes go Lazarus-green. Jason stops abruptly. His voice is softer, gentler, when he tries again.

"Hey, kid. Don't you know not to go tearing apart people's bikes? C'mon, at least do it the right way."

That makes the boy pause, looking momentarily baffled and the green turning into bright blue. Jason takes that as an in and says, "Y'know, it's a lot faster when you use tools. I've got a wrench in my bag. If you use it like this..."

Jason spends the next thirty-five minutes helping the kids steal his own damn rims. He shouldn't. But he's curious about who these meta kids are and they're almost painfully easy to talk with, they just blabber like they've never heard of keeping a secret before in their lives. They talk about their dad, school, their favorite tv show. And then they talk about "the bad men" and Jason's stomach drops. "The bad men" who drive white vans, capture people, and experiment on them. And that sounds an awful lot like a meta-trafficking ring in his city, dead set on coming after the kids and their dad.

Then he's very, very grateful he's letting the kids take his rims home. After all, what Bat doesn't put GPS trackers in their symbols?)

[wwinterwitch]

friendly banter — bucky barnes

summary: sam asks for your help on a mission. you're reunited with him, Joaquín and Bucky. the last one really likes to banter. you think it's just a friendly exchange. it's actually a bit more than that

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (+ platonic friendships with sam and joaquín)

word count: 5k

tags: friends to lovers, sharing feelings (awkward but cute), reader is a hacker and former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, fluff, undisclosed feelings (mutual), kissing

note: this was kind of a mess but i'm back after a long time on not writing any fics! i'm currently in my last months of studying to become a lawyer (yay) and writing fics has proven to be very therapeutic during this time. this may or may not suck but i enjoyed writing it so i hope you enjoy it

please reblog and/or comment if you enjoy!

all masterlists | marvel masterlist | part 2 (features the thunderbolts* now)

"Got eyes on it?"

You stop walking as soon as you hear that question, staring ahead in disbelief. "You mean...the huge panel in the middle of the room?" you ask with obvious sarcasm, trying to speak as quietly as possible through your comm as you make your way further inside the darkened room.

It’s a typical security room with tons of cameras pointing to every corner of the building. To your relief, the presence of your group is apparently still unnoticed as your eyes wander across the various screens in front of you, noticing no commotion or an unnecessarily large group of unfriendly-looking guys rushing to find you. The large panel control installed in the middle of the desk before you is the thing that immediately gets your attention as you walk closer, always keeping in mind the task at hand.

All you really have to do is hack into the system to disable the security protocols long enough for Sam and Joaquín to sneak into the top floors of the building to retrieve the data that they wanted from the bad guy's records in order to find out more about the gang they'll be (hopefully) putting behind bars soon.

This is not the first and definitely not the last time you'll be doing these kinds of favors for Sam. Your friendship goes way back, when you were still a nobody at S.H.I.E.L.D. that somehow managed to get on Captain America's good graces after that whole Washington fiasco. You're still unsure why Steve always thought so highly of you. Then again, he was the type of guy who never failed to see the potential in other people, even when they couldn't quite see it themselves.

Now, you get to help the new Captain America, who's also as dear to you as the previous one was...perhaps just a tiny bit more annoying, but one of your dearest friends regardless.

As you rush over to the panel, you have to jump over the unconscious body of a security guard that Bucky (another dear friend you met thanks to Steve) took care of before you walked inside, quickly taking a seat in front of the large keyboard to start doing your part of the job.

You hear the unmistakable chuckle from Joaquín as you quickly type in a series of codes and commands. "Jeez, I missed having you on our missions!"

"Awwh!" you mutter with genuine endearment. "I missed being part of these missions too, buddy!"

"And we're still going out for drinks after this, right?"

"Are you genuinely asking me that, Joaquín Torres?" you ask, sounding overly offended on purpose.

You hear him laugh again, but before he can say anything back, you hear Bucky interrupting the exchange. "How about we focus on not getting caught here and then you guys can discuss your night plans?"

"Uh-oh, old man got upset," you joke soon after, finishing to type in the last few codes to fully disable the security system. Surely they have some backup protocol that would soon trigger the alarm to alert these guys of an unwanted visitor, but by then all of you will be long gone. It really is a very simple mission.

"He's jealous you're not taking him out for drinks," Sam jokes back, and then you immediately hear Joaquín agreeing with him.

It's a normal occurrence for Sam to be making those kinds of jokes involving you and Bucky. He has been making those types of remarks for as long as you can remember, fully convinced the two of you "have something going on" as he has put it before. You really try not to think too much about it because, first off, Sam loves to say shit just for the sake of pissing you and Bucky off and, second...you really don't want to let those comments get to your head.

You don't want to let yourself wonder about the what if's of that. There was a time in your life when you did allow yourself to fantasize about the possibility of actually "having something going on" with him, but you learnt to shut off that part of your brain in order to avoid getting your hopes up regarding a situation that just wouldn't happen outside your imagination. Hearing Sam’s silly remarks would only bring you back to those days.

Bucky has been one of your best friends for years and he has never shown the slightest of hints that he might be interested in you in the way you would like (at least not that you're aware of), and there was absolutely no way that you would ever make the first move and risk embarrassing yourself in front of him or, even worse, losing the friendship you two have. You eventually just got comfortable in the abyss of eternal friendzone and learned to accept it. If there was ever going to happen something between the two of you, surely it would've happened by now.

Still, Sam seems to be holding onto that rope for dear life and refuses to let it go. You can't deny it’s a bit uncomfortable to hear those jokes though. They somehow make you feel like somehow you got caught and everyone knows you have a secret crush on Bucky, but you've learned to adapt over the years.

"First part's done.” Leaning back on the chair, you watch the percentage bar on the screen before you, completely ignoring Sam's little joke. "A few more seconds and you're up guys!"

"Hallway’s clear," you hear Bucky say, still guarding the room where you're currently in. "How much time do we have to get out of here?"

"Uh...I can't say for sure. Anywhere near five to thirty, maybe?"

"Minutes?"

"Seconds."

"Oh, great," he mutters ironically.

"Well, I'm sorry. We're hacking into a very sophisticated system that I don't entirely know how it works!" you snap back at him. "Besides, the whole point of this is to give Joaquín and Sam enough time to sneak inside without having to deal with a bunch of guards going straight for them. Bad guys will know we're down here and they'll come looking for us first."

"Isn't hacking your whole thing? How do you not know how it works?" he asks, and just by the tone of his voice you know he's trying to piss you off, because he knows that's exactly the type of comments that would make you upset. If that type of comment came from a stranger you would be strangling them right now, but it’s Bucky, and he seems to enjoy annoying the shit out of you.

"Big talk coming from someone who still asks for my help because he barely knows how to unlock his own phone."

The sound of his faint chuckle immediately makes you smile, perfectly picturing the way he's probably rolling his eyes just barely right now, trying to suppress a smirk as if you could possibly see him right now, knowing he hates when you point it out to him.

"You have to give me some credit, though. I know how to program emails on that thing now. Soon enough I'll be taking your job, so you better watch out."

You can't help but laugh at his reply, slightly shaking your head as you realize you’re getting distracted by him, trying to keep your focus on what you're supposed to be doing right now rather than indulge in a never ending back-and-forth with him. As soon as you type the last codes and the large SECURITY SYSTEM: DISABLED alert pops on the monitor, you quickly rise up from your seat. "You're up guys, hurry!"

"On it!" Sam replies as you rush outside the room.

Before he even says anything to you, Bucky is quickly guiding you down the hallway with the intent of getting out of there as soon as possible, turning to look at you with a confused expression when you stop walking and, instead, start yanking his arm to go in the opposite direction.

"What are you doing?"

"The exit is that way," you point out as if it’s obvious.

He looks even more confused now, and slightly annoyed. "Don't think so. That's the way we entered, but there's another way of leaving this place a lot faster."

"No, we can't change the plan!"

He definitely looks annoyed now, trying not to snap at you. "I'm not changing the plan. Exiting that way has always been the plan. If we go that way, we'll-"

Before he can say anything else, the loud sound of an alarm blasts through the entire building, signaling that you've been discovered and you'll be having company very soon. As if that wasn't enough, the door of the room you were previously in opens violently, and the guard that was previously unconscious on the floor is frantically alerting more people through his radio.

“Oh, that’s great,” you point out, slightly panicking right now because you’re still inside the building. “You decided to wake up early, huh?”

Bucky immediately grabs the guy by his bulletproof vest to throw him against the wall, taking his barely regained consciousness to his advantage. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice about six other guys coming towards you, turning around the same corner you wanted to run towards as part of your escape plan. Sadly, that's when you realized maybe the direction Bucky was suggesting was better.

You’re unsure of what to do now. It's not like you haven't been taught how to take down a few bad guys, but your specialities have always involved computers rather than physical combat. Almost as if he could read your mind, Bucky turns towards you for a quick second. "Go! I'll catch up to you." Again, almost as if he knew that you'd try to ask if he was sure about it, he immediately shouts yet another "Go!" before you're finally deciding to do as he says, running down the hall in the direction he has intended to go before.

Hours later, second after second that passes by, you’re more and more convinced that you'll never hear the end of it. If only you could go back in time and just agree with Bucky's plan rather than trying to argue with him. It would have spared you a lifetime of him reminding you how he was right and you were wrong.

Turns out his exit plan was the one you should've followed all along, because it actually led to the engine room which immediately meant being in a much less crowded part of the building to escape without risking bumping into more people.

All of you had enough time to change into something more comfortable to go out for drinks. Initially it was something you and Joaquín had planned alone, but evidently the two of you didn’t hesitate to invite Sam and Bucky. Of course they accepted the invite, and of course Bucky has done his very best to keep reminding you of your little mistake.

"Listen, if you don't want shit like that to happen again, just let me know your plan beforehand."

"But I did let you know. The problem is that someone is not really a good listener."

"No. Letting me know- like, properly letting me know, would've been telling me before we got inside that building."

Bucky smirks as he leans back on his chair, and it's obvious to you he's really enjoying this banter. "Plan changed at the last minute. If you would've just followed my lead, we could've left that building a lot faster."

"Ah, so you do recognize that wasn't the original plan!" you exclaim with a triumphant grin, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "You changed it all by yourself and didn't tell me."

"Changed at the last minute," he repeats, as if to correct you. "You wanted me to stand there and explain every detail to you?"

"Oh, as if explaining it would've taken you hours! You’re always so dramatic."

"Children," Sam commented, interrupting the banter with an unamused expression. "I had to trust the operation to literal children."

Bucky scoffs at that comment, watching as Sam lets out a chuckle, shaking his head after witnessing this whole interaction between the two of you.

"Kinda makes you appreciate having an actual professional around, huh?" Joaquín says right after, flashing a charming smile in Sam's direction.

"Oh, please!" you, Bucky and Sam reply in unison, earning an offended look from Joaquín.

Soon after, Bucky is speaking again. "You know what? I'll give you some credit. You managed to do your part of the job…decently."

It’s obvious he wants a reaction from you, but even if your banter is entertaining, you know you can't keep bickering the entire night. Once again, you can’t help but to feel embarrassed, as if everyone at that table knows your little secret regarding your feelings towards Bucky. As if some innocent banter between friends could ever give it away. Besides, the four of you are here to celebrate your mission was a success, and the fact that you haven't seen the trio in a long time makes it the perfect opportunity to catch up.

Pretending to fully ignore his last comment, you turn to look at Sam from across the table. "You. I haven't seen your lovely face in a while," you start, watching him physically get ready for whatever silly comment you might come up with. "Tell me what you've been up to...I've seen the photos of you shaking hands with the President," the reference to Everett Ross sounding anything but endearing.

Sam sighs, shrugging. "Yeah, well, I guess you can say it's part of the job," he simply replies before taking a quick sip of his beer. "I can't say I'm thrilled about it, but I figured it's best to compromise a bit and keep the man happy. As long as he stays in line, I'll cooperate."

"Of course you're not thrilled about it, Sam. That's the same guy that put your ass in a prison in the middle of nowhere like you were some kind of top security criminal!" you reply almost immediately, still in disbelief at the revelation of any sort of alliance between him and Ross. Sam's expression lets you know that even he is still conflicted about it, not really knowing what to say. After taking a brief pause, you try to say something else to lighten the mood, not wanting him to think like you’re judging him for it. "Hey, I understand having to keep up appearances. I get it. And please accept my deepest condolences for having to deal with that piece of shit."

Your last comment makes the three of them laugh, and Bucky takes the opportunity to change the subject. "And what have you been up to?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. "It's been a while since any of us has seen you."

"Well, my life has been all over the place the last few months. As all of you know, I moved into a new apartment. I loved my roommate, but I felt it was time to just live by myself, you know?"

"So no plans of leaving New York to move to D.C., huh?" Joaquín asks with a smile.

You return the smile immediately. "As fun as it would be to live closer to all of you weirdos, no. I plan to stay in New York for now. I'm just really comfortable there with the new apartment, the promotion I got a few months ago, the fact that most of my family and friends are there..."

"But not all your friends," Sam quickly points out, pretending to sound incredibly offended by your last statement. "But since we’re talking about friends and just social life in general...are you still single?"

"Why are you always so interested in my love life?" you joke with a playful grin, taking a sip of your margarita to leave him wondering the answer just a few seconds more. "Yes, I'm still single. Queen's full of creeps," you added shortly after. "Are any of you seeing anybody?"

"Proudly and happily single," Joaquín replies, raising his drink up as if to cheer before taking a sip.

Sam gives him a very visible side-eye. "Yikes," is all he says regarding that, turning back to you. "I'm not interested in dating right now, to be honest. I’m quite a busy gentleman, you know?" 

“And you say ‘yikes’ to me?” Joaquín says immediately after, looking dumbfounded.

You chime in before any of them could add anything else regarding that. “Bucky?” you ask, turning to look at him as you await his answer.

It was a bold move to directly ask him that question. On one hand, you know Bucky has always been a loner so you’re almost certain that he’s single. But there’s always that tiny percentage of probability that you’ll learn a truth you’re not sure how you’ll handle. He’s your best friend, of course you’ll be happy if he’s happy…but the idea of him revealing to you that he’s dating someone might actually make you physically sick.

You notice Bucky gets uncomfortable right away. “I’m single too.”

The pleasant feeling of relief lasts just a few seconds. The fact that Sam laughs at Bucky’s reply has your mind spinning, not understanding why he would laugh at that. Why the fuck is he laughing? Should you start panicking already?

"Actually, our buddy has been on a few dating apps, I believe."

Oh no. 

Even when you try to remind yourself not to care about anything remotely romantic involving Bucky- or at least, not to care more than a platonic friend would, you can deny the news of him possibly dating someone or even just randomly talking to any person in those apps makes your stomach turn. It really wouldn't be dramatic to claim that you could quite literally throw up right now at the thought of him and someone else right now.

It's not common to hear any sort of updates regarding Bucky's love life because...well, there's never any developments. He's never shown interest in anyone, and as far as you know he's never had any sort of relationship with anyone like that– serious or casual. What if he's interested in exploring that part of his life now? What if he has found someone already and you're about to hear him talk all about them? It makes you genuinely sick, but you try your best to act as unbothered as you possibly can, forcing you to mask your disgust and heartbreak with pleasant surprise.

"Is that so?" is all you say.

He looks even more uncomfortable by the subject, choosing to look down at his almost finished beer. "It's not...I was just trying to put myself out there," he says awkwardly, shrugging. "Long story short, online dating is not for me. I hated it."

You could tell he doesn’t really like talking about this subject, so you try to quickly ease the tension with a bit of humor. Besides, you're probably better off without hearing anything regarding that topic anyway. "It's because you couldn't figure out how the whole swiping thing worked, isn't it?"

Bucky immediately seems to relax with your joke, chuckling a bit. "It took me a few days actually." He takes a quick pause before continuing. "I probably should've asked you for help."

If there was any hidden message behind his last statement, it completely goes over your head because you genuinely thought it was just part of your playful banter regarding his lack of skills when it comes to technology. You laugh, and in return Bucky offers you a smile because that's as much hinting as he dares to do out loud, especially if Sam and Joaquín are sitting right there. He's incredibly used to you never getting his subtle implications anyway.

In front of you, the other two guys are watching this exchange unfold, and it's hard to tell which one of them has a bigger urge to tell you to stop being so fucking oblivious already. As subtle as he can be, Joaquín pokes Sam's side with his elbow to give him a quick heads-up before speaking. "Considering everyone's almost finished, Sam and I are getting another round of drinks."

The two of them are standing up when they notice you're grabbing your purse and standing up as well. "Oh, I can go with you. I have to go to the restroom anyway."

The two of them want to yet again yell at you to please get a grip on the situation, but Sam just silently takes a seat as you and Joaquín go over to the bar, quickly telling him what you want to order before heading towards the restroom.

A few drinks later the four of you are finally leaving the bar. Sam and Joaquín left to their respective houses while you and Bucky shared an Uber back to his own place. He was kind enough to let you crash in his spare room for the night. It's not like this is the first time you've ever stayed at his apartment when you visit the boys, but you can't deny the idea is both thrilling and terrifying- not like anything would happen to make you feel like that...you two are just friends...but, still...your silly head likes to get silly ideas sometimes.

Deciding not to indulge in your little fantasies, you decide to start a conversation. "Update on the food?" you ask, turning to look at Bucky, who sits comfortably on the sofa of his living room.

"Like ten minutes away," he says, taking a quick look at the screen. "How come you haven't congratulated me for knowing how to order food with this thing?" he added with evident surprise, making you chuckle.

"Because you keep saying 'this thing' like it's some mysterious device completely unknown to mankind," you reply, and before you can stop yourself, you continue. "It's cute, I guess, so congratulations."

Bucky's grin grows wider. "Oh, so it's cute?"

You try really hard not to panic, feeling incredibly embarrassed. The fact that he seems to be enjoying what you just said makes it even worse, because you know he’ll use that to tease you now. He just finds any possible excuse to do it. "Cute as in lame."

He chuckles. "Right."

Not knowing what else to say, you clear your throat before walking towards him, taking a seat next to him as you try to come up with something else to change the subject immediately. "I'm starving," is all you say, mentally scolding you for such a poor effort.

As soon as you're sitting, you unsuccessfully try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach when he leans just a bit closer...perhaps if you weren't hyper vigilant whenever the two of you are too near you might've missed it. And then, he stretches his arm across the back of the sofa, right behind you.

For a second, you even thought of mocking him for such a move, but bringing more attention to it would only make you that much nervous, and you really don't want to embarrass yourself. And most importantly, you don't want your silly mind and your silly heart to get their hopes up. You're just friends, nothing else.

"Me too," he agrees, the playful grin on his face still not disappearing. "Might have to steal a few fries from you."

"Oh, I'd really like to see you try stealing my food," you reply in the same playful tone, leaning just a little closer to him without even noticing that you were actually doing that.

"I think I deserve some compensation after what happened today. You know, for all the unnecessary ass-kicking I had to do."

"Just when I thought you had moved on from that!" you reply, jokingly slapping his knee. "It wasn't my fault, it was yours for not telling me the plan on time!"

"You should've just trusted me," he insists. "But you always have to be right on everything..."

You know he's joking. There's something about bantering with you that seems to absolutely fascinate him. "Yeah, and you always want to piss me off."

Bucky chuckles again, and that's when you feel his hand gently resting on your shoulder, his arm fully around you. What the actual fuck is going on. "What, you think I like pissing you off?" he asks, tone slightly lower than before, which inevitably makes the butterflies in your stomach multiply. "Is that why you think I do it?"

You were quiet for a moment, your brain not entirely registering what's happening. "I mean...yeah."

He stops for a second, and you almost see a hint of hesitation on his face before he speaks, letting out a frustrated sigh. "For someone who claims to be so much more clever than anyone else, I would've expected you to figure it out sooner," he starts, shaking his head with a soft smile. "I've been actually flirting with you, doll."

The comment evidently takes you by surprise and all you can do is to stare back at him like a complete fool. His arm around your shoulders, the proximity, the fact he had the fucking audacity to call you that nickname...did you somehow fall asleep on his couch without noticing and this is the type of oddly-realistic dream your brain decided to come up with? Are you still standing there like a fool just fantasizing and this one just got way too immersive? And did he really just say that he's been flirting with you?

Noticing you weren't saying anything, he decides to continue, looking a little hesitant and disappointed with your silence. "You know, it'd be really nice if you say something..."

"Awful way to flirt," is all you could come up with, which immediately makes him burst out laughing. 

"Maybe," he agrees. "But I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out. I mean…Sam and Joaquín did a long time ago."

"The three of you share the same brain cell, of course they figured it out a long time ago,” you reply, still in complete shock to be having this conversation with him. Were you really that blind? "You could’ve just asked me."

"You know I'm not direct like that," he replies, and the shy look on his face almost makes your heart melt. "Like I said, I was relying on your impressive intelligence to figure it out."

You let out a soft chuckle after his last comment, immediately giving him a warning look. "Don't." He looks back at you for a few seconds, almost wanting to challenge you after noticing the way you’re looking at him. Soon enough, he’s unable to hide his smirk anymore. "There it is," you point out, knowing he hates that.

Bucky lets out a soft grunt as a complaint, resting his head on your shoulder. Encouraged, you immediately move a hand up to his hair, affectionately playing with it. The two of you stay like that, simply enjoying being so close to each other. It feels incredibly right.

"So how do you feel?" he eventually asks, perhaps feeling braver to ask now that he doesn’t have to look into your eyes when he does.

You don’t reply right away, still feeling incredibly nervous despite knowing he does like you back. Eventually, you do build up the courage to say something. "I like you. Like, a lot."

Bucky moves back to look at you know. The look on his face gives you the impression that he wasn’t expecting you to be so honest with your answer, perhaps expecting another silly joke or sarcastic remark. And even though you thought about the possibility of choosing a more humorous approach, after keeping your feelings for him locked up and stored away for so long, you really needed to just say it.

Instead of saying something back, Bucky tightens his grip around your shoulders just enough, using his other hand to grab your chin right before kissing you. It certainly takes you by surprise, but you're quickly returning the kiss as you just completely melt in his arms, still trying to convince yourself that this is not some kind of hyper-realistic dream.

His hand swiftly moves to your cheek as the kiss continues, the gesture so incredibly delicate, a sharp contrast with the pure need he’s transmitting through the kiss. It’s desperate, passionate, intense…like he’s been waiting an entire lifetime to finally be able to experience this, grateful for the absolute privilege that it is to kiss you.

One of your hands moves up to the back of his neck and your touch seems to encourage him that much more because before you know it, he's taking the opportunity to gently bite your bottom lip, right before continuing to make out with you.

Much to yours and Bucky's disappointment, the sound of his apartment's doorbell echoes through the apartment, indicating the food you previously ordered has arrived.

He reluctantly pulls away with a soft grunt. "Food's here," he comments out loud, offering you a soft smile. He takes a brief moment to look at you, brushing his thumb against your cheek in an affectionate manner, dreading the idea of having to leave this couch. "I'll get it."

"I can help," you offer almost immediately.

Instead of replying right away, he leans in for a short kiss. "I'll get it," he insists, quickly making his way to the door after another buzz could be heard.

You sat in his living room in complete disbelief of what just happened, thankful that he's not here right now to see your goofy smile and blushed cheeks. He'd probably tease you to no end if he did see that.

Not knowing what else to do, you immediately reach for your phone, opening your messages. You knew exactly who would be the right people to share the news with.

'uhm so we just kissed??????' you texted, the first message in the group chat you just created with Sam and Joaquín.

Joaquín is the first one to reply. 'HELL YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!'

'FUCKING FINALLY.' Sam texts shortly after.

[joelsgoldrush]

“guilty pleasure” | 8.6k

worst!logan howlett x f!reader

SUMMARY: After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

WARNINGS/TAGS: mdni - smut 18+ fluff. drinking. dirty talk. slow-burnish. grumpy!logan x sunshine!reader. reader is really kind but cracks a lot of jokes. age gap (25 vs 200 - they’re basically the same age). oral sex (f receiving). fingering. finger sucking. soft dom!logan. wade being the funniest asshole. logan calls reader "kiddo/kid”.

A/N: HI! first of all, i'd like to thank you for all the support you showed me on my recent post. let me just tell you that i’m LOVING writing for logan. but none of this would be possible without YOU, so yeah, i fucking love y’all.

** regarding this story, i was planning on making it even longer, but writing these two has been so much fun, and i didn’t want it to end just like that (i have attachment issues as you may infer from this note). therefore, i’ve made the decision to write a second part to this fic, which will contain fluff and other stuff (you already know the drill). i don’t know when i’ll be posting it, but i’m sure it won’t take me that long.

*** i’m also working on other one shots (purely fluff/domesticity because i want this man to cradle me in his arms). anyway, i don’t know if anyone’s going to read this, but still, all I have to say is THANK YOU FOR READING MY WORKS! i hope you really like this silly story i made up :)

**** english is not my first language so if you come across any mistakes don’t hesitate to tell me :)

special recognition to @zloshy who allowed me to rant about my own fic 😭 the sweetest human ever

The bar is far from packed, but then again, it never truly is.

Studying your regulars has become your favorite hobby. Soon you end up knowing their names, the drinks they like, and what time they come through the door. It’s what happens when standing on your own two feet and refilling glasses lose all their charm. A part of you thinks you also do it to make them feel safe. No matter how much you try to deny it, you truly care about their well-being.

Is this your dream job? Nope. Definitely not. You’re pretty sure that holding some stranger’s hair while they empty their insides wasn’t on your bingo card for this year. But sadly money doesn’t grow on trees, and university isn’t going to pay itself. Plus, this was the only job in which your resume was not immediately rejected. It should also be stressed that the drunks happen to love you. 

Perhaps this isn’t the life you had always imagined for yourself, but you were getting closer to it. You’d often talk to Adam, a retired psychologist in his seventies. He was without a doubt one of the most loyal clients you’d ever encountered. In the past, he’d even given you free advice on some of your failed hookups. You once told him that in less than two years, you’d be just like him when you got your degree in Psychology. To your surprise, he replied: “You’ll be much better than me, doll. I’m a mess, can’t you see it? You don’t wanna be like me,” his voice was hardly above a whisper as he continued. “I should be at my daughter’s birthday right now, but I didn’t get an invitation this year. Believe me, you don’t want to end up like this old man.” 

Like Adam, most of the men who frequented the bar day-to-day saw it as an opportunity to hide within the shadows. In comparison to the other pubs in the area, the one you work at doesn’t receive that much attention from the general public. A dimly lit place where only music from the 80s is allowed. You’re certain that if a health inspector ever came down here, you’d be in serious problems. But hey, you know what they say: do not worry about tomorrow; instead, live in the now.

The atmosphere of the bar shifts dramatically as the main door slams shut with a resounding thud, pulling you abruptly out of your daydreaming. You turn to see who’s arrived, but as soon as your eyes meet his, you’re compelled to look away. Nevertheless, the brief glance you catch of the stranger’s features is enough for you to unlock your phone and send a quick text to your best friend. 

You:

cutie patootie alert

there’s this really handsome guy at the bar

i don’t think i’ve ever seen him before

i think i’m in love with him

my night just got a 100% better

Allison:

age

what does he look like

is he bald?

You:

he looks like he could be in his early fifties??? it’s hard to tell UGH i wish you were here

brown hair, beard, 6’2 if i’m not wrong 

i didn’t stare at him for too long

otherwise that would’ve been very weird

and no he’s not fucking bald

that happened only once and i was not aware of that gentleman’s lack of hair 

Allison:

so you’re dating retired now

get it grandma!

You:

oh fuck you allison 

Allison: 

it’s okay girl we all have our flaws

just make sure it’s nobody’s father

wait it’s not mine right?

You:

nah your dad’s way hotter don’t you worry about it

Allison:

bitch 

Even with the music blasting through the speakers that are attached to the ceiling, you can still hear the low murmur and the whispers. The mysterious stranger seems to have attracted the attention of the other patrons, some of whom have even raised their phones to take photos. Your eyebrows draw together. Why would they do something like this, approaching the man as if he were a celebrity? Since curiosity never fails to kill the cat, you decide to get involved.

“Do I have somethin’ on my face?” you hear him ask the crowd, his raspy voice making your knees wobbly. He sounds enraged. You step on your tiptoes, trying to see what all the fuss is about, albeit it’s pretty hard considering how these men are caging him with their bodies.

The glow of a phone’s flashlight catches your attention, and suddenly, a chair is dragged without much elegance. “Enough of that, y’hear me?”

Enter you now. “Okay, gentlemen, I’m sorry. I’m gonna need you to make some space for me, alright?” you mumble as you gently push them aside. “Thank you, thank you. Y’all can be real sweethearts when you put your minds to it.”

Then you spot him, and it becomes clear why everyone is making such a fuss. 

Gary, your worst client ever, steps forward. His nasty breath clouds your senses as he rests one of his sweaty hands on your shoulder. “Doll, it’s the fucking Wolverine. Don’t ask him for a picture, though. He doesn’t seem to be in the mood for that.”

The last thing you needed to see today was a fight (despite your knowledge of who would be the winner). You locate yourself amidst them, shaking your head like a disappointed mother, so as to add a tiny bit of drama to the situation.

“Guys, what you’re doing here is completely inappropriate. I thought I’d taught you better. Imagine if I were to pull this crap on you. You wouldn’t have it.”

Adam presses his lips together, flushing a bit. “She does have a point.” 

“Thank you, peanut. You’re still my favorite,” you flash him an honest smile. Scrutinizing the rest of the men, you continue with your speech. “You can still make up for it and fill my tip jar all the way to the top. Deal?” they all scoff, barking their disagreement. “Oh, you don’t like the sound of that? Then leave him alone, okay? Class dismissed! Back to your places,” you clap your hands repeatedly, signaling them to go away. “Chop chop. All this alcohol won’t be drinking itself.”

Just like that, everything goes back to normal in the blink of an eye. Wolverine sits back down in his chair, leaning closer to the table and resting both elbows on it. He examines you, lifting his chin while his brown eyes take in every inch of you.

“Thank you,” he utters, his eyes still trained on your features. 

“No need to. It’s what I’m here for,” you point to your work clothes, which consist of an antiqued apron and a silly sticker that has your name written on it. “Can I get you anything to drink? It’s also Burger Night. You can get one for half the usual price.”

(No. It’s not fucking Burger Night. You just happen to find yourself deeply attracted to him.)

He doesn’t seem too eager to hear you talk. “Not hungry at the moment. But I could use some whiskey.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, kid. Very sure.” Well, now he does look annoyed.

“Great. I’ll be back in a minute,” you move as if you were in a race, returning to him after a hot minute. Setting his glass down on the table, you fill it with some old whiskey you don’t even know the name of. Still, he omits that detail, gulping down two-fingers of whiskey as if it were water. “I see you’re thirsty.”

“Could you leave the bottle here?” those brown puppy eyes are begging you to do as he says, and although you’d be happy to oblige, rules are rules. 

“Actually, I can’t. The bottle stays on the counter. But you can always join me at the front,” your proposal doesn’t appear to have the desired effect on him. “I won’t talk to you if that’s what you want.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he rubs his neck, drawing a long breath as he stands up. 

You can feel many pairs of eyes searing into your soul. The others ask you for more drinks and you pour them, pricking up your ears when you hear them talking about him.

“What a weirdo. Didn’t you see it on TV? He’s not even from this universe,” Gary explains, looking for accomplices to hate on Wolverine. “Let me tell y’all something: he shouldn’t even be here. He’s fucking dead on this earth.”

Yeah… that you knew.

It had been all over the news for weeks. Some would even swear that he was back from the dead, but that was until the representatives from the TVA spoke their truth. If someone would’ve told you a month ago that multiple universes were a thing, you would’ve laughed in their face.

As if that weren’t already difficult to process, your mind does the job of reminding you that there’s a man with metal claws sitting a few meters away from you. Despite that, you can’t seem to be scared of him. There’s something magnetic about his personality and that don’t-come-near-me-or-there-will-be-consequences expression that he has. Why had you promised not to speak to him? Dammit.

“I can hear your thoughts,” a muscle in his jaw twitches after knocking back another glass of whiskey. He squeezes his eyes shut before tapping the table with two fingers, silently asking for a refill.

“I thought you didn’t want me to talk,” you raise one of your eyebrows, and you behold how the corners of his mouth turn up for an instant. “I can assure you your liver hates you.”

“Alcohol won’t kill me, so don’t be afraid. Keep ‘em coming.”

For nearly twenty minutes, he does nothing but drink. He attempts to light a cigar at some point, and you stop him. “You can’t smoke in here.”

“No special treatment?” he inquires, placing the cigar between his parted lips and tilting his head back. He’s so… dreamy. He has to know it.

“I saved your ass today. The least you can do is not cause me any trouble.”

His eyes widen at your words, blinking owlishly. “You saved my what?”

“Your goddamn ass. You were about to start a fight.”

“Blame the idiots you have for clients,” he says, jerking his thumb toward your direction. “I was just mindin’ my own business. They came for me, not the other way around.”

“Look, Wolvie. I–”

“Wolvie?” giving a bitter laugh, he rams a hand through his hair. “That’s the worst nickname I’ve heard in a long time,” he looks at you through his lashes, getting rid of his leather jacket. “It’s Logan.”

“Wow. Your name is very boybandish.”

You succeed in making him laugh once again. It’s the perfect opportunity for you to observe his face without feeling like you were just about to get caught. He has deep creases and worry lines etched between his eyebrows, a brown beard that perfectly frames his jaw, and a few white hairs scattered in his sideburns. Pearly teeth that go hand in hand with one of the most impeccable smiles you’ve ever seen, and a pair of brown eyes that make you feel weak in the knees. You know for a fact that he’s a lot older than you; his exact age remains a mystery, but his appearance is enough for you to start fantasizing.

Shit, you want him. You should feel sickened by the mere thought of being with him. He was born God knows when, has lived hundreds of years. Still, the idea of tracing his cheekbones with your fingers while lying on his chest doesn’t leave you. This is fucked up. You are fucked up. A fucked up Psychology student. The joke is pretty much self-explanatory.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding, you preening slut. Can’t even bother to answer my calls now?”

The tension between you shatters like a glass dropped onto the floor. He doesn’t dare to look in the direction of the owner of that voice, not even as the seat next to him gets taken. He pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Wade, what the hell are you doin’ here?”

“It hasn’t been exactly easy, raising our kid on my own. I don’t even have money to hire a babysitter, Lo. I spent nine months carrying your child, and for what? You end up going after a bartender,” the masked man turns to you, giving a sly wink. “No offense, baby. You must be a real sweetheart. In fact, do you want my number? The name’s Wade, but you can call me whatever you like.”

“You dumb fuck. Are you flirtin’ with her?”

“No shit, smartass. You’re the future of this country.”

A soft giggle escapes you despite your attempt to hold it back. You take a step back, admiring the two men. “Well, aren’t you two a beautiful couple?”

“You should see our little munchkin. He’s got my eyes and Logan’s hair. His first word was gubernatorial.”

“Would you like to have a drink while you’re here?”

“A beer would be great. Thank you, sugarbear. You’re the cutest,” Wade sinks back into his chair, resting his chin on his palm. He jerks his head in Logan’s direction, bumping his shoulder. “She’s the cutest. Are you two together?”

Logan rubs his forehead, speaking through gritted teeth. “How did you find me?”

“It's the power of love, baby. I had It’s All Coming Back To Me Now on repeat for hours. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Handing Wade a cold beer, your eyes scan Logan’s face. “I didn’t know patience was your strongest suit.”

“Me neither.”

“Enough of that! I can’t stand not being included in a conversation,” Wade throws his hands in the air, and you look at him. “There you are. So, what about you? Are you even allowed to be here? Did bars change their policies?”

You can’t help but snort. “I’m 25.”

Wade looms closer, lowering his voice. “Now that I think about it, you could totally be Logan’s caretaker. He’s been having some issues recently, given his age. Do you… know anything about adult diapers?”

But then Logan’s face contorts, turning crimson. He rises from his seat, grabbing Wade’s arm. “That’s it. We’re leavin’,” his eyes lock on you for a moment. “How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.”

The things you’re willing to do for a man, right? You should be ashamed of yourself.

(But you aren’t.)

His mouth hangs open in disbelief. “Kiddo, are you–”

“Completely sure,” you finish his sentence for him, bowing your head and clasping your arms behind your body. A tight-lipped smile takes over you. “Just don’t tell my boss.”

Wade shifts his gaze back and forth between Logan and you. “I usually don’t mind third-wheeling, but I sort of feel left out.”

“I’m gonna sew your mouth shut, Wade.”

“Oh, come on! I was just making small talk,” the masked man tries to excuse himself while Logan pushes him towards the door. “It was a pleasure meeting you, sunshine. I’m free on Thursdays. Hit me up if his whiskey dick fails to impress you! Mine’s way more agile and young!”

As you watch them leave the bar, you remain frozen in your place amidst the clamor of ongoing chatter and clinking glasses.

What the fuck had just happened?

“Patrick’s normally the first one to get wasted during weekends,” you explain to the blonde woman sitting in front of you, and she writes that information down in her notebook. “He can usually handle himself, but at some point, he’ll try to call his ex-wife, and that’s when you know you need to stop serving him.”

She clicks her tongue, the color draining out of her face. “This is… definitely a lot to remember. I think I already forgot half of what you said.”

You shake your head, shoving your hands in your pockets. “You’ll get used to it, believe me. I’ll be with you at all times, so if you have any doubts, just ask me.”

After a whole year of working solo at the bar, you finally get to have a coworker: Gwen, a mother of two teenagers in her forties. You had met her at the grocery store, and in the process of helping her find a specific brand of cookies, you found out that she had recently lost her job. One thing led to another, and now she’s your trainee.

Your savior complex strikes again!

It has been four days since your first encounter with Logan. The thought that he could show up at any moment makes your heart race and your hands sweat. Allison had received countless voice messages where you narrated the entire experience in full detail. 

Touching your arm softly, Gwen’s face lights up. “Another man came in. Is he a regular? I don’t think you told me about him.”

Fuck, it’s him. Manifesting does work wonders. He locks eyes with you and raises a hand in greeting.

“Leave this one to me,” you tell her as your feet take you to where Logan’s sitting, contemplating the way in which his leather jacket hugs his wide frame. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, kid,” he grins. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Nobody has puked yet, so that’s a good thing,” you crinkle your nose, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Whiskey?”

“You know me so well,” a smirk takes place in his lips, and he smiles cockily. “Though this time, I won’t be leavin’ without payin’.”

“We’ll see about that,” you go back to your usual spot behind the counter, looking for a glass. Your cheeks kind of hurt from smiling so hard. Next to you, Gwen studies your reaction to seeing Logan. “Is that your boyfriend?”

You almost drop the whiskey bottle. “God, no. He’s not my boyfriend. Barely know the guy.”

“It’s funny,” she says, raising her eyebrows with a knowing look, as if she knows something you don’t. “He hasn’t stopped looking at you since he arrived.”

“It’s probably because of this,” you reply, lifting the bottle in her direction before pouring a small amount into a glass. Just as you’re about to walk over to him, a girl slides into the sit beside him, her long blonde hair swept up in a ponytail. She’s wearing a stunning red dress and black heels. You wonder if she’s a model, because she certainly looks like one.

Her hand creeps up his arm, fingernails scraping against the worn leather. Although Logan’s expression is hard to read, he doesn’t even flinch.

“You know what? Here’s his drink– You take care of it. I’ll stay here,” you don’t give Gwen a chance to talk back, instead staying behind the bar, engaging in small talk with other clients. 

“Doll, are you okay?” Adam asks you after noticing you struggling to open a beer bottle. He takes it from your hands and opens it with ease. “There you go.”

“Thank you, Adam. I’m fine, never been better. Why you ask?

“You sure?”

“Affirmative.”

“You mixed up our drinks,” he explains in his most psychologist-like voice. “This never happens to you. Michael has my wine, and I’ve got his martini.”

“Fuck! I’m so sorry. I just— I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you chew on your bottom lip, rubbing your temples. “I feel stupid.”

“Oh, please. Don’t say that. You’re far from being stupid,” he sits up straight, reaching for your fingers and giving them an apologetic squeeze. “If you ask me, I think you’ve got your mind on someone else,” he must notice how you visibly get tense because he adds: “Remember: I know when you’re lying. You didn’t charge him the other day, which means that you must really like him,” taking a tentative sip of the martini he didn’t even ordered, Adam shrugs. “I’m a great observer. That’s all.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the blonde girl from before returning to where her friends are chatting. Logan is left alone, and you watch him grab his glass and head towards the counter.

“As I said, your mind’s somewhere else,” Adam sighs, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “Go get your man. I’ll survive.”

“Not my man. But thanks, older-and-wiser-version-of-cupid.”

Pretending not to have seen Logan, you continue with your work. He remains silent for some minutes before finally saying: “Hi.”

Hi? It sounds so out of character for him.

“Hey, claws,” you force a smile, still avoiding to meet his gaze. “Do you need anything?”

Logan points to his empty glass, like a toddler asking for more cereal. “I also wanted to talk to you.”

“I thought you were busy over there,” you say, surprisingly managing to sound nonchalant, despite the jealousy bubbling underneath your friendly tone. “Did you get her number?”

“What? No.”

“Why not? She’s cute.”

Yeah, maybe you don’t sound as collected as you think.

Whether Logan notices it or not, he chooses not to mention it. He folds his arms over his chest, fixing his brown eyes on you. “I’m not interested.”

“And what is it that interests you, champ?” your question elicits a low chuckle from him. Just as he opens his mouth to seemingly reply, Gwen appears out of nowhere to ask you about the price of a certain drink. Your gaze shifts between her and Logan, who remains focused on you while sipping his drink.

After that, Gwen leaves. The man in front of you goes poker-faced, pursing his lips, and his abrupt change in demeanor alarms you. “Wade wants to have dinner tomorrow at his apartment– well, our apartment. I live with him now. It’s complicated,” he adds with a dismissive wave of his hand, and you laugh. “Anyway, he asked me to tell you that you’re invited. I know we don’t know each other that much, but… he said you seem like someone worth havin’ around,” he mumbles awkwardly, eyes downcast. “I think the same as well.”

You could die at peace.

“You’re a lucky fucker because I don’t work on Sundays,” you quip, smiling. “I’d be more than happy to attend your feast.”

“Great. I thought you would turn down the invitation.”

“Now why would you think that?”

“‘Cause you barely know me– us,” he corrects himself rapidly. “Plus, Wade’s annoying as hell when he puts his mind to it. You’ll see.”

“Marital problems?” he actually in response. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. Oh, I’ll bring the dessert.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I do want to,” you tilt your head in an effort to hide your longing for him.

“Just want to get under my skin, huh? I can see why Wade likes you,” Logan beams, reaching out to tuck a $100 bill into the pocket of your apron. “The tip’s included.”

“I don’t know how things work in your universe, but you’re giving me way more money than you’re supposed to. I can't accept this.”

“Oh, but you will,” his gravelly voice fucks your system up, and you’re glad he can’t see how you squeeze your legs together behind the bar.

He writes down Wade’s address on a random napkin, holding his breath as he stands up. “I should get goin’. See you tomorrow then.”

Before he walks out the door, you stop him. “Logan? You didn’t answer my other question.”

His back shakes momentarily with laughter. Turning around to face you, his stare leaves you even more confused. “Good night, doll.”

This is becoming a habit: every time he goes away, you feel as though you’ve just run a marathon with no water available. Your mouth is completely dry, your fingers are numb and there’s a knot in your stomach that’s becoming all too familiar.

“Would you mind telling me where you got him?” Gwen’s voice makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“He’s not from around here. I think he’s Canadian.”

You’ve got this. You’ve got this. You’ve got this.

Knocking softly on Wade’s door, you step back, the container holding the tiramisu cold to your touch. It’s your first time trying out this recipe, so you’re expecting it to at least not taste like shit.

Wade answers the apartment door, acting surprised when you remain silent. “Well, look what the wind blew in: if it isn’t my husband’s lover. How dare you? We’re still going to couples therapy.”

You show him the container, and he squints at it. “Tiramisu. You want it or not?”

“I hate twenty-somethings,” he says with a defeated sigh, stepping aside to let you into the apartment. 

Leaving your purse on the nearest surface, you scan the living room, wondering where Logan might be. There’s a small mirror beneath the couch, and you check yourself for the hundredth time tonight. “Don’t get too excited. He’s still showering,” Wade’s voice rings in your ears, and you turn to look at him, your eyebrows knitted. “Yeah. I noticed. You’re already drooling over that big piece of metal between his legs.”

“Keep quiet!” you cover his mouth with your palm, noticing the scarred state of his skin up close. “Wade, you fucking dog. Are you licking my hand?”

“Couldn’t help it. You taste like mascarpone cheese and espresso.”

Then Logan emerges from the bathroom, with only a white towel draped around his waist. Droplets of water fall from his wet hair, tracing the muscle of his abs, ending somewhere beneath his happy trail. Your eyes keep flickering between him and his torso until he clears his throat. “I thought you were comin’ later.”

“Me too, but I…,” you trail off, your brain struggling to catch up, “I didn’t know what else to do at my place.”

“It’s fine. Just– let me put on some clothes.”

“Please don’t,” Wade murmurs next to you, but Logan only scoffs. “I was just being honest. Communication is key.”

When Wade and you are alone again, he lets out a harsh breath. “That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. My pants are really tight right now.”

“Thin walls, buddy!” Logan shouts from his bedroom, earning a laugh from you. 

Like A Prayer starts playing. Wade moves his hips to the beat, getting lost in the melody. “Is that your phone?”

“Yeah, but I always take a few seconds to dance to it. Such a banger!” he says, then picks up his phone, accepting the call. “Hey, Ness! What´s up?” Wade covers the speaker before telling you: “It’s Vanessa. My ex-girlfriend. We fuck once a week, sometimes even twice.”

From behind, Logan nudges your arm with his, looking at you. ”Hey, kid.”

“No, I’m not busy at all,” Wade exclaims, grabbing his crotch and thrusting into the air. “I’ll be there in ten, cupcake. See you,” he spreads his arms wide and whistles. “Someone’s getting laid tonight!”

“You made me come all the way here… and now you’re leaving?”

“What? My friend Wolverine wanted to invite you over. I just had to provide the apartment,” in one quick movement, he presses a kiss to your cheek, then does the same to Logan. “Shave yourself, will you?”

“Go fuck yourself, will you?”

“Love you too, honey. Hope you two lovebirds have a good night, because I know I will!”

Wade throws a wink over his shoulder before heading out, the apartment going dead silent. Logan and you stand frozen, staring at each other, although he quickly drops his gaze, unable to maintain eye contact. A giggle threatens to escape you: he wanted to see you. Could he possibly enjoy your company as much as you enjoy his?

Logan watches the spot where Wave had just been. The absence of his chaotic energy makes the room feel strangely empty now. He coughs lightly, the sound awkwardly loud in the quiet room.

“So... I, uh, bought pizza,” he says, his voice a little too casual, as if trying to cover up his nervousness. Averting his eyes, he focuses on the pizza boxes on the table.

You catch the hesitation in his tone, your curiosity piqued by his discomfort. Tilting your head, a teasing smile forms on your lips. “Pizza, huh? You sure know how to impress a girl.”

Logan chuckles, the sound strained, as he scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, I figured it was a safe choice. Didn’t want to ruin it, y’know?”

You move closer to the table, the warmth from the pizza boxes radiating against your hands as you open one of them. The rich smell of melted cheese and pepperoni fills the air, a comforting scent that makes your stomach growl softly. “Thank you. I’m a big fan of pizza.”

He sits in the chair across from you, taking a bite of his slice. You watch him quietly, your own thoughts churning. The truth of his origins had been a shock at first, but now, it just made you want to know more about the man. What was his life like in the other universe? Did he miss it? Was he happier here, or was he longing to return?

“Logan…,” you begin, your tone gentle but probing, “Can I ask you something?”

He glances up at you, eyes widening. There’s something in your eyes –an understanding, maybe– that makes him feel like you could see right through him. 

“Sure,” he replies, trying to sound more at ease than he really feels. “Ask away.”

You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to push too hard. “I was wondering... would it be okay if I asked you some questions? About, you know, your life. Where you're from.”

The bite of pizza suddenly feels heavy in his mouth. He hadn’t talked much about his world, not even with Wade. Partly because it was too painful, and partly because he wasn’t sure how to explain how things turned out for him. He nods slowly, setting his slice down. “Yeah, it's okay. I’ll answer what I can.”

“I just... I want to understand you better.”

“Well, first and foremost, I’m no hero. You should know that by now.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Kid, I’m the worst Logan. A complete failure. Of all the variants out there, Wade just had to pick the one despised by every living soul on his earth,” Logan looks away, his voice low and heavy. You’re wondering if doing this was a good idea. “I need a drink.”

He gets up and you follow him into the kitchen. He rummages through the fridge, in search of a cold beer. Meanwhile, you attempt to find the right words. “I don’t think–”

With a sharp flick of his wrist, three metal claws sprout from between his knuckles. A gasp catches in your throat as he uses his claws to pierce the beer can, drinking from the punctured holes. Once he’s done, he goes back to staring at you. Your gaze, on the other hand, is still glued to the now-empty beer can. “What?” he asks, exhaling slowly.

“That was completely unnecessary,” you mutter, and he lets out a bitter chuckle, tossing the can into the trash. “But, back to what you said before– I don’t think you’re the worst Logan.”

“You didn’t know me back then, darlin’. I fucked it up,” he leans against the counter, arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Like the Logan from this universe, I once belonged to the X-Men too. I remember that Scott used to beg me to wear my suit. So did Jean, Storm, Beast– All of them,” his gaze grows more distant, and you can tell that memories are flooding his mind. “Wanted me to be part of the team, but I wouldn’t do it. Told them they looked fucking ridiculous.”

The pizza’s long forgotten. You take the risk and get a bit closer to him, your eyes never leaving his. 

Logan’s silence stretches for a moment before he speaks again. “One day, while I was off on my own, the humans came. They went mutant hunting.”

Your heart clenches at the pain in his voice. He still remembers everything as if it had happened yesterday. “I can guess the rest. You don’t have to–”

But he cuts you off. “No, let me say it. I need to say it,” he takes a deep breath, lowering his head. “By the time I stumbled home, shit-faced from the bar, it was too late. They were dead. They called after me and I walked away.”

Reaching out, your hand gently brushes against his. He doesn’t pull away, but instead searches for your eyes. “My suit's all I've got to remind me of who they were. What I did. I found them and they were… dead. I started killing, and I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to stop. I turned the whole world against the X-Men.”

You tighten your grip on his hand, knowing there’s nothing you can do to change how he feels. “You’re not a bad person, Logan,” he shakes his head, mumbling something you can’t quite catch. “I mean it. What happened back then doesn’t define you. You took the blame for their deaths upon yourself. I can tell you loved them deeply, and I’ll never fully understand the pain you feel. I wish I could. I wish I could take it away, make you forget somehow, but I can’t. That’s not how life works. But you got your second chance: you saved this world. My world,” gently cupping his face in your hands, you allow your fingers to caress his cheeks. He leans into your touch, watching you with half-lidded eyes. “You’re my hero. I’m your biggest fan– after Wade, obviously, which is a lot to say.”

He grins, letting out a laugh. “Easy there, bub.”

“Should I give you some space?”

That’s the last thing he wants from you right now. You already know that as he looks you up and down, placing his hands on the small of your back, his thumbs drawing small circles on your skin. There’s no turning back– The warmth between you feels almost like a fever dream. “For a long time, all I wanted was to disappear. I couldn’t stand waking up every morning, knowing that another day awaited me.”

“And what happened?” your breath mingles with his, his closeness becoming nearly intoxicating. “What changed?”

“I met a pretty girl at a pub, that’s what happened,” he murmurs, his dilated pupils flicking up to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

“Do all your kisses come with a warning?”

“God, do you ever shut up?”

You don’t have time to respond because he kisses you there and then. His stubble scrapes your skin as your mouths meet again and again, needy hands that hold you as if you were prone to breaking. Logan licks into your mouth, sliding his tongue against yours and swallowing every one of your whimpers.

“So this is what it takes to shut you up, huh?” he murmurs against your lips. You can feel him smiling, and it makes your heart skip a beat. 

“Keep talking and you won’t get a single bite of my tiramisu,” you tease him, kissing him again, the taste of beer numbing your senses. “I really like kissing you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, but now that you’ve mentioned that tiramisu…”

“Am I that easily replaced?”

“No. You’re just a pain in the ass.”

Jokes aside, you’re as happy as a clam.

Since that night you and Logan kissed, you’ve been living your best life. Like a freaking schoolgirl with a crush. Some things never seem to change.

He hasn’t been to the bar in three days. Yes, you’re counting them. No, you haven’t lost your mind. You want to see him, but there’s something about making the first move that gives you the chills. What would his reaction be if you showed outside of apartment?

It’s been a long time since you’ve been with anybody. On top of that, all the guys you’ve dated were your age. Being with someone that older than you certainly wasn’t no your plans. You’d be lying if you said that the mere idea of being with him in that way didn’t excite you.

Oh boy, you miss him. You miss his scruffy voice, his gorgeous hair. And you two aren’t even official yet. To be honest, you don’t even know what he wants from you. Is he even the type to be in a relationship?

“Nighty night, gentlemen,” you say to Gary and his friends as you find yourself in front of them, smoothing your apron. Gwen had called in sick tonight, so it’s just you at the bar babysitting a bunch of grown-men.

“What’s up, doll? You’ve forgotten about us. We miss you coming in here to chat,” Gary’s eating his burger at the same time he speaks, something you find repulsive, but you’ve seen worse. “Y’know, I’d love to take you out someday. I have a place you’d like.”

The other men laugh and punch him in the back, just boosting his ego. Pathetic. 

“I’ll let you know when I’m free,” you reply with the most polite smile you can offer, intending to go on. “What are you having tonight?”

“You always pull that shit, baby. I don’t think you’re so busy that you can’t accept a date.”

You hate the way he’s looking at you, as if you were wrong for not being interested. As if you didn’t know any better.

“You’re reading minds now? Shocking, Gary.”

“Oh, doll. That attitude of yours shows you’ve never been with a real man like me, that’s all,” he leans back in his chair, resting one of his arms on the table and the other one near his crotch, manspreading. “It’s alright. I like you bratty.”

“I’ll be back when you finally have something to order,” you attempt to turn around but he grabs your wrist, pulling you closer. Your eyes lock, and he seems to enjoy this: being in control. Like a predator hunting his prey. “Come on, Gary. I don’t want to have to kick you out.”

“It’s not that you don't like me, right? You’ve already got your mouth full.”

“Careful.”

“What? Don’t tell me you’re not fucking that useless mutant. I see you like ‘em older. Pretty little things like you drive me wild.”

You laugh in his face, showing him your teeth. “It was never about your age, Gary. You’re right: I do like them older. I’m just not into bald, vertically-challenged pricks.”

His entourage of idiots goes silent after that. He looks up at you, eyes burning with hatred. His grip on your wrist tightens, probably leaving a mark. “Fucking bitch.”

“Get your hands off her.”

Logan’s voice forces the two of you to look in his direction. It seems that he’s just arrived at the pub, his jacket still on. 

“You joining us? We’re just getting started here, big boy.”

“Did you not hear me?” Logan lunges forward, his nose almost touching Gary’s. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Easy there, cowboy. I’m just having a chat with your girl. She’s one of the good ones, I’ll give you that,” arching a sly brow, his forehead puckers. “You don’t like sharing? We can even take turns.”

Logan clenches his jaw, lips set in a grim line. “Say one more word, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“I’ll give you a full sentence instead: can you even get it up?” 

The tension in the air is thick, every second stretching out as Logan's anger simmers dangerously close to the surface. Gary’s smug grin only makes it worse, pushing him to the edge. Before you can react, Logan’s fist swings forward, connecting with Gary’s jaw with a sickening crack. Gary staggers back, realising your wrist. Blood seeps from his nose, his white shirt becoming stained with it. “You fucker! You broke my nose!”

“We’re just getting started here, big boy,” Logan mocks him, repeating his previous words.

“Stop!” you shout, moving quickly to grab his arm, trying to pull him back. But he’s beyond hearing, his rage blinding him to everything else. He shakes you off, and with a fierce growl, drives another punch into Gary’s stomach. The latter doubles over, gasping for air, the wind knocked out of him. He then falls to the floor, curling into a ball. People start to gather around you, and soon your beloved bar becomes a box ring.

“That’s enough, Logan! He’s barely conscious,” you murmur under your breath, stepping between them, hands up in a desperate attempt to create some space. Logan pauses, chest heaving, fists still clenched, as he finally looks at you. The wildness in his eyes starts to fade, replaced by a dawning realization of what he’s done.

“He deserved it,” he nods vigorously to himself, as if trying to explain his point. “He was hurting you.”

“If you keep that up, you’re going to kill him. My bar is not a fucking cemetery,” your voice trembles a little bit, expecting to talk some sense into him. “I won’t let you do this.”

The room is quiet now, the only sound being Logan’s heavy breathing as he stands there, still tense, still processing. You turn to Gary’s friends, cold fury in your eyes. “Get him out of here,” you watch as they haul him up, practically dragging him to the door. The other clients continue to stare at Logan, their mouths hanging open. “Everybody out, right now! Go home. We’re closing earlier tonight.”

Adam is the last person to leave, slamming the door behind him. You rush to the counter, searching for a mop to clean the fresh blood off the floor. Still agitated, the images of Logan hitting Gary flash in your mind. He approaches you from behind, his fingers circling your forearm. “Bub–”

“Don’t. Now is not the time.”

“I was protecting you.”

“I told you to stop, and you didn’t. You just shook me off,” you snap, glancing at his knuckles which are not even bruised. Slamming your eyes shut, you get to your feet and wash your hands in the sink, the remaining water becoming reddish for a moment.

Logan moves closer, resting his chin on your shoulder. He wraps his arms lazily around your middle section. ”I’m sorry.”

You turn in his arms, your back flushed against the sink and your nose in the air. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I don’t have a phone.”

“But– Jesus, Logan. You could’ve come sooner. I thought you regretted what happened the other day,” you say and the muscles in his face twitch, his body stiffening at your words. “Thought you no longer wanted me.”

“No, bub. I– I still want you. I want all of you, trust me,” he murmurs, and you allow him to press his body against yours, the scent of the cigar he must have smoked recently enveloping your senses. “I just… don’t know how to do this. I have a habit of ruining things, and I’m trying to figure out the best way to be with you without hurting you.”

“Pushing me away also hurts,” your eyes flick up to meet his gaze again, and he whispers under his breath. “I can’t read your mind. You need to tell me what’s going on in that ancient skull of yours.”

His face falters, flashing you a mischievous look. His hand creeps under the fabric of your shirt, fingernails scrapping against your spine. “I’m sorry, princess. I truly am.”

“You can’t just say ‘sorry’ with that voice and expect me to–”

You’re cut off by his lips crashing down onto yours. You melt into the kiss, unable to deny what your body has been craving for the past days. 

“I thought your kisses came with a warning,” you say, detaching your mouth from his, a smile spreading uncontrollably in your face as you see his toothy grin.

“Shut up and kiss me, will you?”

In a clash of tongues and teeth, your mouths meet once again. Tugging the hair at his nape, you feel him growl against your lips. His strong hands trace every curve of your body, kneading the flesh of your hips and undoing the knot at the back of your apron. You’re becoming one with the sink, but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care less. Logan’s hard on nudges your lower stomach, and he ruts against you like an animal.

“You said you wanted to know what’s on my mind, right?” his teeth nibble on the skin of your neck, syrupy voice going straight to your core. “Well, I’d love nothing more than to touch you right now.”

“Right here? On the counter?”

“Yeah, on the fucking counter,” he grabs you by your thighs, hosting you up and placing your body on top of the cold bar. He nudges your knees apart, his bulge meeting your clothed cunt deliciously. “Will you let me, baby? Can I make you come in here?”

“Please. I’m glad we have such a low budget. Camera installment is t–too expensive these days.”

“Do you always talk this much?” he slowly unbuttons your pants, and you help him to remove them.

“Yes. Next question,” your breath hitches in your throat as you feel the pad of his thumb circling your clit through your panties. Your eyelids drop, your head lolling back. “Fuck, that feels good.”

Logan hums, mesmerized with the way your hips roll into his hand, your whimpers sounding like music to his ears. “You have any idea how I felt when I saw him touching you? Wanted to rip his hands off you,” his eyes drift to your chest, how it rises and falls with impatience. “But it’s me who gets to have you like this. He can fantasize about you all he wants: I’m the only one who touches you, ain’t I right?” you sigh with content as his fingers graze your slit, aimlessly bucking your hips. He doesn’t go any further, and you tug at the collar of his flannel, needing more of his callousand hands on you. “Nuh-uh. You want something, you gotta use your words. Got it?”

“I w–want your fingers inside me,” you don’t even recognize your own voice at this point. The few guys you had slept with had never been very talkative during sex. But Logan isn’t like them. This is just the beginning and you’re already starting to realize that he has a dirty mouth, that expectant look on his face as he waits to see your reaction to his words. “Please, Logan. I want you so bad.”

“Oh, I know, bub. There’s something about me I don’t think you know,” he inserts one of his fingers in your cunt, your slick coating the palm of his hand. “These claws I have… they didn’t come on their own. Let’s just say my sense of smell is… pretty good,” Logan can almost see the gears turning in your head as you try to think coherently. He moves his middle finger in and out of you, stretching your walls. “And you… have been wet ever since the first time you saw me. Always nice to everybody, making sure they feel at ease,” you feel like you’re being stretched even further, another one of his fingers sinking into your warm pussy. “But you’re so needy, too. How long has it been since someone touched you like this?”

“Too long, f–fuck. Too long,” you’re squirming, a totally whiny mess. He retratcs his wet fingers and instead goes back to flicking your clit, this time with much less delicacy. His left hand squeezes your tits, and you hate the fact that you’re still wearing clothes. “Shit, Logan. I need you to fuck me. Please. Need your cock.”

His face comes to rest at your neck, and you feel lingering kisses and bites that keep you grounded to earth. “Not here. I need a bed to fuck you properly. You’re only getting my fingers now,” he positions them inches away from your entrance, testing your patience. “Tell me who owns this pussy.”

“L-logan–”

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” his husky voice is making you dizzy, tears shimmering in your eyes. “Come on. Know you want it as much as I do.”

You succumb to the tentation, like divinity turned to sin. He kisses you roughly, and you struggle to find the correct words. “It’s you, Logan. You own my pussy. It’s f-fucking yours.”

With that, he goes back to nudging that spot that makes you see starts, that filthy squelching sound getting mixed up with your moans. The knot in your belly keeps growing tighter the more he pumps his fingers in and out of you. 

“I said you were only getting my fingers for now, but fuck… I need to gest a taste of this sweet cunt.”

He’s on his knees in an instant, urging your legs apart to make room for his body. Your thighs tighten around his face as he licks a hot stripe up your folds, tracing a heated path on your cunt, not wishing to waste a single second. Pleasure builds quickly, your breath hitching as your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him closer when your body begins to tremble. 

“I’m close,” you pant, breathing hard, grinding your hips against his face. “I’m so close.”

“That’s it. Come in my mouth like the good girl you are.”

Who had given him a damn script for this?

The release is explosive. Like the peak of a roller coaster: you go up up up, ascending higher. You think you almost see Jesus, but at some point, you also have to crash down with force. Your shoulders slump, your entire body cramping up; yet he doesn’t let you go that easily, his fingers still working, scissoring within you while you ride out the final waves of your high, drawing out every last moment of ecstasy.

Once you finally manage to open your eyes, there he is, staring down at you. He taps your lower lip with his fingers, and then mutters: “Open.”

And you do, because you’re just as messed up as he is. Your mouth parts, and he slides his fingers between your lips, dragging them smoothly across your tongue. His knuckles brush the back of your throat, and you gag around the intrusion, tasting yourself. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, clearly satisfied with the way you’ve cleaned them off.

“I think we should really pay a visit to your apartment,” he suggests, groaning in defeat, and you feel his bulge poking your hip. He must be painfully hard. “I meant what I said earlier. I need a bed if we’re going to fuck. My back’s hurting.”

You raise an eyebrow, the corner of your mouth curving into a smirk. “Why not go to yours?”

“Wade’s in there. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

You can’t help but laugh, pausing a moment to collect your thoughts, heat rising to your cheeks. “So we’re going rodeo?”

Aiming to silence up, Logan kisses you, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Only if you can handle it.”

part 2: “GIVE ME THE FIRST TASTE”

dividers by: @/cafekitsune thank you!!! :)

[supportgaza]

From Gaza to Ireland: Out of the Fire of War to the Fire of Soul-Crushing Survival Guilt and Fear for my Family

Note: My main account (@mahmoudkhalafff) was unfortunately terminated by Tumblr for no reason. This is my back up account. Please continue to boost my campaign. We are too close!

At times of peace, having to be away from your family for months and years is a high price you pay for obtaining an academic degree or securing a better job. Imagine while you are away, they were trapped in a besieged strip of land and thousands of missiles rained down on that besieged area of 360 km² around the clock for almost 11 months. That would crush every cell of your mind and drive you crazy, wouldn't it?!

Imagine suddenly getting addicted to watching the news and the gory videos and pictures all the freaking time. You follow relevant social media pages that only show images, videos, and stories of entire families that were wiped out in an instant in an airstrike and deemed as collateral insignificant damage. While plunging deeper and deeper into an unprecedented state of acute depression, I wondered: how come all my suffering from displacement, fear, and hunger in Gaza for 5 months during the war before being evacuated to Ireland is nothing but a drop compared to my ocean of suffering now?

The constant thinking of my family in Gaza during the genocide and all the potential scenarios is consuming my sanity and mental health at a time in my life and a place where I am required to be 199% focused and productive. To give you a glimpse of my horrible psychological suffering these days: I fear going to sleep because I know horrible horrible nightmares are waiting for me on the other side. Some have to do with the horrors of wars I witnessed in Gaza myself and others relate to the horrible potential scenarios I keep thinking about.

Seeing the images and pictures of Gaza makes you think a thousand earthquakes hit every neighborhood of the Gaza Strip! Nothing and no one has been spared. The horrific war has turned the place into a hell on earth, unfortunately. How can young people have any hope for a better future seeing the mass destruction and the relentless Israeli efforts to stifle Gaza and squeeze hope out of its people as a form of collective punishment. How monstrous and heartless!!!

Amid all this chaos and madness, my number one priority and focus is evacuating my family to Egypt as a first step and hopefully reuniting with them in Ireland at a later stage.

Please do consider helping me save my family by donating, reblogging, and sharing.

Note: Vetted by:

1. @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi # 151 on the spreadsheet of Vetted Gaza Fundraisers List]

2. @riding-with-the-wild-hunt Here .

Tagging for reach <3

@riding-with-the-wild-hunt @ibtisams @vakarians-babe @90-ghost @sayruq @fairuzfan @sar-soor @fallahifag

@el-shab-hussein @taamarrud @humanvoicebox

@plomegranate @queerstudiesnatural @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-lindigo @soon-palestine @communistchilchuck @palestinegenocide @northgazaupdates2 @northgazaupdates @ghost-and-a-half @kyra45-helping-others @kyra45 @commissions4aid-international @feluka @appsa

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Something More

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Since you met Bucky, he's always looked at you with...something more. And you never knew why. One day, you finally find out what he means by it.

Disclaimer: mentions of cheating and swearing, revenge on cheating ex. Bucky deals with said cheating ex. Descriptions of naked/slightly naked Bucky though nothing too explicit. Fluff, found family vibes, Sam and Bucky bickering. Use of nicknames (specifically 'doll'). Not Proof Read.

“What are you still doing here?”

Bucky had just passed your lab. As far as he was aware, you should have left work hours ago. You should have been getting ready, listening to whatever playlist you’d compiled with Wanda, picking your outfit with that perfect smile on your face as you looked in your mirror to fix your lipstick. 

So why were you still here?

You looked up, looking for him and where his voice had travelled from. Your gaze found him standing back in the doorway. The lights behind him were dimer than they usually would be. After the clocks turned six in the evening, they did that to save on energy – even then, they’d only come on if they sensed someone. Before he’d walked down the corridor, the only lights on had been inside your lab with you. 

“Oh, hey.” You turned back to your work. “Just wanted to get some things finished before tomorrow. Hoping Tony might give me half a day.”

Bucky felt himself chuckle as he walked inside. “You do the work of three people. If you asked him, he’d tell you to take a week off.”

You chuckled because you knew it to be true. But you also didn’t like taking too much time away from work. You actually liked your job and the people you worked with. Some more than most. 

“But that still doesn’t answer my question. Shouldn’t you be on your date right about now?”

Bucky looked at his watch. 9:20pm. 

“Oh, uh,” You tried your best to avoid his gaze as you looked away from him. “Yeah…yeah, probably.”

Bucky studied you. And you could feel him doing so. The way he stood there, clipboard loose in his hand and by his side, his eyes fixed on your body, noticing how your shoulders tensed, how you tried your best to hide away from him despite you both being the only two in the room. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing. Everything’s fine.”

Bucky shook his head and pulled up one of your rolling stools until he was sitting down and facing you. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter-”

“Yes, it does.”

You forced a smile, still not looking at him but rather at whatever contraption you’d pulled apart only to rebuild again. 

“No, it-”

“It does because you never hide anything from me.”

“Mostly because I can’t,” you muttered to yourself but by the soft chuckle from Bucky, he’d heard you. 

“What is it? What’s going on? Why are you still here?”

It took you a moment but eventually you put down the motherboard and finally looked at him. “If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room. I don’t need the questions and I don’t need a plethora of super-humans marching or flying down to defend my honour.”

He didn’t like where the conversation was heading but Bucky reluctantly agreed. 

“I’m not on the date, but Matthew is.” 

Matthew was your boyfriend of three years. Bucky had met him a handful of times and he seemed nice enough, but there was always something Bucky didn’t like about him. How he talked, how he walked, how he seemingly didn’t realise how lucky he was to have you. 

“What are you-”

With your hands folded in your lap, you continued to explain. “The date that I told Wanda about, the one that was meant to be for tonight?” 

Bucky nodded. 

“Well, what I thought was meant to be a surprise for me was actually…a surprise for my best friend. Ex-best friend,” you corrected yourself. “Matthew didn’t think I would find out, but when I asked him if I should take any days off work soon, he said no. I thought it was just a fluke, but it wasn’t.”

“Y/n-”

“Matthew broke up with me a week later.”

“What?”

You saw the subtle changes in Bucky’s demeanour as you told him. How his gaze and eyes grew darker, how his shoulders became stiff and alert, how his fists clenched on the table. 

You took a breath. “Matthew broke up with me three weeks ago, but I’m okay.”

“Okay? Okay? I’ll kill him.”

You shot out of your seat and rushed ahead of him, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Bucky Bucky, Bucky, stop. Stop, okay. Look, I’m fine. And I promise, I am okay. Guess finding out that your boyfriend has been sleeping with your supposed best friend for six months kinda softens the aftermath of the break-up.”

“Six months?!”

“Just…sit down? Please?”

It took a little longer than a minute, but eventually he sat back down and you picked up the clipboard that had been dropped to the floor and handed it back to him. 

“How can you be okay?”

You smiled, even if it was still a little sad. “Because I’ve dealt with it.”

“How?”

“Poured glitter into their new washing machine, as well as onto all of their clothes,” you admitted. “Stole the plate out of the microwave, took the hand pumps out of the soap, threw out the car wax from his cleaning kit. You know, just small things that will cause them a nuisance for a lifetime.”

Bucky felt himself laugh. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“Don’t have to,” you smiled. “You know better.”

“Yeah, I do. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

You just shrugged, trying to ignore the sting in your heart. “It’s okay.” 

Bucky’s eyes followed you around the table until you sat back down in your seat. “No, it’s not. I’m sorry he didn’t know how good he had it.”

You looked up at him. “Thanks, Buck.”

“I mean it, Y/n. I know you loved him. He didn’t deserve you.”

You felt his words wash over you and settle into your bones. You’d been dealing with the break up on your own. You knew you didn’t have to, but it was easier. Simpler. But hearing him tell you that…it was worth its weight in gold. 

You tried your best to place that familiar look in his eyes as he looked at you. It wasn’t pity, or sadness. Well, maybe a little. But there was something else there. Something…more. You’d noticed it before but even then you couldn’t have given it a name. It was just…

Something More. 

Like he knew something you didn’t. Like he was trying to tell you something he didn’t have the courage to say out loud. 

“Want me to take you home?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I can-”

But then he gave you that smile that always made your stomach do a little flip. The way his lips curved in the corner on his mouth, a slightly sassy but genuine look in his eyes. 

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

With a grateful smile, you smiled and stood up. On the way out, Bucky helped you remove your lab coat before helping put on your actual one. From there, he waited for you to lock up before you finally reached his car and hopped into the passenger seat. 

You’d placed your new address into the car’s GPS and explained to Bucky why you had a new one. 

“Even if she hadn’t moved in, I wouldn’t have wanted to stay there on my own. Knowing everything they’d done together?” You shook your head. “I would have moved, anyway.”

Bucky seemed to adjust himself in his seat, one hand on the wheel as the other rested in between himself and you. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t tell the rest of us.”

You chuckled, already knowing what he was thinking. You knew you’d have to tell them eventually. And you would. Preferably in a place where they couldn’t all suddenly disappear on you or wouldn’t see the masked pain behind your expression which would only lead to more questions. 

You’d become friends with the team not long after you’d joined Shield. Tony had studied your work, produced in Shield labs and instantly had given you an offer to work with him on a permanent basis. Before you could finish spending the day thinking about it, you had orders from Hill telling you, you were to become the new resident Lab Tech at the Compound. 

You’d worked along-side Tony and the rest of his science team, fixed equipment for the team and eventually found a friendship with them all individually. 

Wanda had been the first one; she’d been looking for someone to talk to since Clint was out for the day for Training new recruits. The next had been Tony and Natasha and very soon after had been Clint, Bruce and finally Steve.

Steve had been away on back-to-back missions which resulted in him being one of the last. Within a week of him returning, you’d met everyone else since Tony had decided to throw a party. 

You had asked why, but Pepper had just told you that to Tony it was “just because” but she’d worked on a mission plan. Charity Gala. She’s planned the whole thing with Peter’s Aunt. 

It was at that gala that Bucky had first met your boyfriend. At the time, you’d both only been dating eight months. 

“Did you buy a renovation?”

You dug into your bag for your keys but nodded. “Yeah. It’s kinda been a nice distraction.”

“Do you know what you’re doing?”

You looked at him, a little offended. “I’m an engineer.”

“I know.” Bucky was still taking in the property. “I’ve met you. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Bucky had seen you build some of the most complicated tech in the world. A handful of times, even Shuri had been shocked and impressed. But he’d also seen you try and build a bookshelf from Ikea on your own. 

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve got some weekends free.” Bucky told you. “I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to.” 

You were taken slightly aback as you saw the smile on his face. But you smiled back anyway. He’d always had that effect on you. 

“Okay.”

The following six weekends were filled with stripping old paint, pulling out and replacing rotten floors and beams, plastering walls and securing the foundations. The building had been with the bank for almost thirty years. Nobody had ever wanted to buy it. 

You’d guessed it had been built in the forties, or thereabouts. A covered porch had been added on to equal the starting point of the front steps, the shutters on the front windows had either been missing or hanging on by a rotten nail so they were soon replaced. There were three matching windows set at equal distance from each other upstairs. One in the middle and one on either side of it – all facing the front of the home. The garden was overgrown to the point where wildflowers had over run themselves and probably created a new breed. 

The back was much in the same way; a covered porch, windows, shutters, and a larger back garden perfect for an allotment and space for kids or dogs to run around. 

Eventually, those six weeks turned into six months. 

You did what you could within the week and Bucky helped with the rest at the weekends. When Sam found out Bucky was helping, he pitched in, too. Though, he was more helpful when placed away from Bucky and at the other side of the house. That had been something you’d learned quickly. They worked well together but the amount of hours they spent arguing about how to paint…

It was safe to say you’d taped out their own spaces in the house and they were not allowed to cross the tape unless they needed a bathroom break or a snack. 

Wanda had been more than helpful on the days where they’d both decided to sneak past the tape and judge each other's work. 

“Hey, hey, hey, would you- Wanda, put me down.”

“Stay in your tape.”

After the first three months, you were finally able to go out and buy new furniture and return the rented ones. 

“Left a bit, left a bit.”

“We need to go right.”

“No, we need to go left.”

Wanda leaned over to you. “How long have they been like this?”

“Two hours. I have tried.”

You sighed and crossed your arms, watching as Sam and Bucky tried to take your new sofa inside. 

“Right, right. Now go up.”

“Up?”

“Yes, up?”

“What are you gonna do? Make it fly?”

Sam just started at Bucky. 

“Oh, for the love of-”

As you threw your arms into the air, Wanda laughed and started walking towards them. Eventually they dropped the furniture and she moved it herself. It fit through your door simply – just as you had expected before the double comedy act decided to take charge. 

Finally, after six long months of stripping, plastering, painting, repainting, rearranging, building, and everything in between, you were finally done. 

You and Bucky lay on the floor together, staring at the ceiling, your beers sweating with condensation onto the placemats. 

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“As much as I love my new kitchen, I think I’m just gonna order in. What do you want?”

“Where are you getting it from?”

After twenty minutes, you and Bucky had decided on a place and ordered two pizzas with a side of fries. “Half an hour. Right.” You stood from the floor. “I’m going for a shower. You can hop in after me.”

Bucky was glad your back was turned from him since he could feel the heat spread across him. 

“Why?”

“Because you stink.”

You heard him laugh. Since day one, you’d never held back from telling him what you thought. It was one of the things he loved about you. 

Upstairs, you turned the shower and stepped inside only to watch the dust and paint flakes fall down with the water and into the drain. Twenty minutes later, your hair was washed for the third time that week – white paint from your skirting boards following the suds of the shampoo. 

And then Bucky walked up the stairs. 

As he reached the top of the staircase and turned his head down the hall, he called out your name. 

“Shower’s free! Just getting dressed!”

“Hey, uh, I-I left you something downstairs. Feel free to open it!”

“Really? Okay.”

Bucky smiled before walking into your bathroom and closing the door but leaving it cracked open slightly. The steam was still leaving the room and he couldn’t open the window just yet. 

However, what he didn’t notice as he carefully got undressed was you walking down the hall. Fresh in your pajamas which consisted of an old t-shirt and shorts, you towel dried your hair except in the defogging mirror in your bathroom, you caught a glimpse of Bucky. 

Naked Bucky. 

His back was turned to the mirror, his muscles lightly flexing as he moved to draw back the shower curtain and step into the shower. You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered in your chest or how your legs unconsciously clamped together as you looked at him. 

But as the curtain was drawn back, hiding him from sight, you took in a small breath before hurrying down the hallway, down the stairs and into the living room. 

You were thankful Bucky was in the shower at that moment in fear of him seeing and knowing what the embarrassed and heated look on your face meant. 

The image you’d just witnessed, it was safe to say, was burning into your mind. 

It was the knock on your front door which startled you out from your daydream about Bucky and the way he-

“Hey, two pep- Matthew.” 

What should have been the pizza guy with your pizzas was your ex. 

“What the fuck?”

“Please, please just hear me out,” he begged. “I am so sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have slept with your best friend but I thought that was what I wanted. But-”

“Goodbye.”

“Wait! Please!”

His hand landed on the door. “Please. I-I thought that was what I wanted but these months apart have made me realise something.”

“Look, I don’t know how you found me but please leave.”

“I’m still in love with you, Y/n. I always was. And I’m ready for more, if that’s what you want.”

Down the hall, you heard your name being called. But Matthew didn’t. 

“I should never have cheated on you, but I promise I never will again. It was good, right? You loved me? I loved you.”

“Please leave.”

“I will spend everyday making it up to you because I realised, I am worthy of you. Please, just give us a chance. I promise-”

In the space of about three seconds, you saw Matthew’s face change from begging to terrified and shocked at the same time before the door you were holding onto tightly opened wider from behind you. 

Then you found yourself met with a freshly showered, completely naked save for the towel wrapped around his waist, Bucky. You felt the heat spread across your entire body as you tried your best to not make it obvious how you were trying to remember the moment for a lifetime. 

The definition of his muscles, the way his arm flexed as it remained on his hip, the metal arm behind you, holding the door securely. The way the beads of water dripped down his neck and tracked down his body and into the top of the towel. The way his eyes burned with a kind of darkness you’d only ever seen in him when he was ready to attack, but somehow still remained soft when they fell on you. 

“Holy-”

“What are you doing here?” 

“I-I-I came to get Y/n back.”

“Oh, really?”

You felt yourself smile up at Bucky, for more than just the reason he was making your ex crap his pants. 

“Y-Yes. I’m worthy of her.”

“You’re not worthy of shit.”

Matthew tried his best to ignore Bucky as he turned back to you. “Please. Y/n. I’m ready. Just come home with me.”

“I have a home. A new home. Very, very far away from you.”

“How did you even find this place?” Bucky asked. 

Matthew had to look at him and eventually spat out that your ex-best friend had seen your car turn down the avenue a few weeks back when she was heading to work. So, he looked out for it and hoped for the best. 

It was in a sudden motion Bucky’s right arm reached out and held Matthew up by the scruff of his collar. “You’re gonna forget you ever learned this address and leave Y/n alone. Do I have to repeat myself, or are we clear?”

A clearing cough came from somewhere behind Matthew. 

The pizza guy. 

“H-hi? S-Sorry about the wait. They’re working on the road at the top of the street so-so I-I had to double back.Two pepperoni?”

You nodded and the guy told you the price that had been exchanged over the phone. 

“Thanks.”

“I hope you resolve…whatever this is. Bye.”

Hopping back on his pizza scooter, he headed towards his next address. 

Matthew finally looked back at Bucky who’s stare hadn’t left him since he picked him up. 

“I don’t like repeating myself, Matthew.”

“But she still loves me.”

“No, she doesn’t.” 

That much had been made clear to Bucky over the last six months. He watched you put whatever anger and sadness you’d bottled up and put away into how you’d pulled out rotting beams and how you stabbed and yanked dead weeds from the ground with all your might. 

He also saw it in your quiet moments after that. How you built yourself a home without any reminiscence of Matthew or your ex-best friend, how you found freedom and love in what was around you and how you let yourself date again. The dates didn’t last too long but they always ended mutually – not one sided. 

“She does.”

You practically rolled your head with your eyes. “I really don’t.”

Bucky just smirked. 

“B-but what about our life together?”

“The one you torched when you fucked my friend? Yeah,” you heard yourself laugh. “That will never exist.”

As you went to walk away, leaving Bucky to deal with Matthew, he called out. 

“You can’t seriously be fucking him?”

Turning on your heel, you looked at both of them. Bucky seemingly didn’t react. Until a sliver of unrecognisable courage came pouring forward. 

“And what if I am?”

Bucky reacted to that. Not that Matthew noticed. 

“Not that it’s any business of yours,” you added. 

“But-”

“Goodbye, Matthew.”

As you walked into the kitchen and laid out the pizzas, it was a few minutes before you heard a cry from Matthew, followed by a crash of plywood from the skip that was ready to be collected the next day. 

Finally, the door closed and Bucky walked back into the kitchen, towel still around his waist. 

Walking out from your laundry room, you took the last mental image of a practically naked Bucky, standing in your home, looking sun-kissed and all kinds of handsome. 

“You left some clothes here the last time you stayed over.” Standing in front of him, you handed him his clothes. 

“Thanks.”

Taking them from you, Bucky smirked as he caught your gaze scanning his entire body. 

“How are you feeling?”

Your gaze flicked back to his, acting as if you hadn’t just been checking him out, but the heat on your face gave you away. 

“Good.” You smiled. “Actually, really good. Kinda shocked me when it was him and not the pizza guy- thank you, by the way. For dealing with him. I’m sure there’s some speech I should give you about threats of violence but it was nice to see him scared after everything he did.”

“Clearly he didn’t get a new washing machine.” Bucky held up his hand, small flecks of glitter on the palm. You laughed. 

“You can’t escape it.”

Bucky chuckled, too. “Guess you can’t.”

It was in the silence that followed, your hand holding onto his from when you moved it to see the glitter, that you saw that look in his eyes again. That something more look. He’d looked at you like that since the beginning. 

For a while you thought that was just how he looked at people. But you saw the way he looked at Steve and Sam and Natasha and Wanda. You saw the way he looked at strangers on the street as they walked past him, you saw the way he looked at kids when they walked up to him and asked for his autograph, you saw the way he looked at reporters when they asked about the 40s or asked a question he didn’t like. 

You saw the way he looked at everyone else. 

And then there was the way he looked at you. 

Something more.

You felt yourself step forward a little as he dropped his hand and held onto yours. It was a subtle difference. The way he looked at you, the way he held you, the way he spoke to you. 

It was his turn to step closer. 

Carefully placing his clothes down on the kitchen island beside you both, his other hand reached out for you, brushing the hair from your eyes. 

And for a rare moment, you shocked him. Usually, he knew everything with you. It was rare you had to actually tell him something. He spent that long looking at you, it was almost as if his gaze could stare directly into your soul and know what you needed. 

But this. 

This he didn’t see coming. 

No matter how long he’d hoped for it. 

You kissed him. 

And for a moment he was still, feeling your lips against his. Then it was like he was brought back to life. Feeling your hand in his, he squeezed your hand and you squeezed back. Finally, he kissed you back. His hands came to hold your face as he stepped into you, his kiss matching yours. 

In a few turns, your back was against the counter of your kitchen island, your hands sending goosebumps throughout him as they trailed down his chest, sides and held him closer by his neck and back. 

It wasn’t long before he lifted you onto the counter and your legs spread open for him to step closer. Slowly, the kisses peppered away until you were both left gasping for breath, feeling his forehead against yours. 

“Shit.” Bucky eventually breathed, a small laugh escaping him. And you giggled, holding him closer. 

“You better get dressed before you give my new neighbours an exclusive.”

Bucky looked behind him, realising you were both in a semi-clear view of the blind-less windows. They were getting delivered and installed on Monday. For now, you just had curtains and the panels on the windows. 

Then he looked down. The towel was slowly coming loose from his hips. Then he swore for a different reason. 

“You might have to give me a minute.”

It took you a second to realise what he was talking and blushing about. Then you tried to hide your laugh. “Either you put on some shorts or you give my neighbours an original welcome to the neighbourhood.”

Bucky gave you a look before looking around. Finally, grabbing his clothes, he surprised you with a quick kiss to your lips which made you smile and distracted you enough to let him go. Behind your kitchen island, he slipped on his shorts before removing the towel. 

“Thought I might get a show.”

Bucky gave you another look. “I’d rather save that for when it’s just you and me, doll.”

You hummed, your arms coming back to his shoulders. “Fair enough.”

A shorter silence came over you both as Bucky looked at you again. 

“What? What is it?”

You just kept looking. 

“You’re looking at me like I’ve got two heads.”

“You always look at me like that.”

“Like you’ve got two heads?”

You shook your head. “No. Like I’m…something more. I’ve noticed it for a while but I don’t know…why do you look at me like that?”

Bucky just smiled, already knowing what you were talking about. “Because you are something more, doll. You’re more than something more to me.”

You searched his face for what felt like hours, trying to decipher his cryptic message until it finally clicked with you. His message hadn’t been cryptic at all. It had been staring at you, quite literally, for years. 

Bucky watched as the expressions changed on your face; trying to find his meaning, wondering if you’d found the right one, convincing yourself it wasn’t possible, coming back to your original conclusion, accepting it though not fully, hoping it was true, not wanting to embarrass yourself if you were wrong, being certain you were right, and then not, until finally you’d found the courage to ask him if you were. 

And he just smiled. Freely, and without hesitation, he answered. 

“I’m in love with you, Y/n. That’s why you’re more than something more to me.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You already had someone.” Bucky said, a little defeat in his voice. 

“Had being the key word.” 

He smiled and looked back at you. “I didn’t want to rush things. We…we both needed time.”

Unconsciously, your body moved closer to his touch as his hand traced down your arm before he held onto your hand. Fingers danced around each other before he finally pulled your hand close to his lips and kissed your knuckles, then your palm, and finally your inner wrist. 

Finally, your head touched his. Eyes closed, breaths taking in and let out in sync. 

“I am in love with you, Y/n. I have been for a long time and I don’t wanna rush this.”

You leaned up and looked at him. “Then we won’t. Like you said, we both needed time. And, Bucky?”

He looked at you, again. 

“You’re more than something more to me, too.”

Then he smiled, that genuine if slightly sassy grin. “I know, doll.”

[huh-i-guess]

Fever

(Task force 141 x F!reader)

Summary: While out on a mission you are injected with a substance that might lead to a shift in the dynamics between the 141.

Warnings: SMUT 18+, sex pollen, fingering, dub-con/non-con (under the influence of sex pollen), choking, nasty Simon, Gaz has morals

Word Count: ~ 4.2k

(Reader's callsign is Pepper)

I don't own MW2, the characters, or the gif above.

“What the fuck was that?” You shouted as you felt a sharp pricking sensation on your left ass cheek. You reached behind you to feel what was causing the sensation and groaned as you felt a syringe protruding from your behind. You looked down and noted that you had stepped on a pressure plate of some kind and triggered the laboratory’s defense mechanism.

“Oh fuck, lass.” Johnny mumbled.

“Shit, Pepper.” Gaz exclaimed in disbelief.

“No fucking way. Why does this shit always happen to me?” You yanked the dart-like needle from your behind and examined the leftover contents. The remaining contents appeared to be a blue syrup-like fluid. You sighed and pocketed the syringe hoping you could take it back to base to have it examined by the scientists at the lab. 

“Pepper, what was that?” Price called over the comms hearing the distress in everyone’s voices. Your thoughts ran at a mile a minute as you tried to figure out if you should tell your captain, that you probably had a mild crush on and always wanted to impress, that you just stepped on a trap. Or if you should lie. You hated lying to Price. It felt like you were letting him down and any time you did, you found yourself immediately retracting your statement and telling him the truth hoping he’d forgive your indiscretion. You readied your mouth to let out some kind of answer but snapped your mouth shut as you heard Gaz from your right side, “Looks like they tranqed Pepper or something. We were sweeping the lab and she was the first one in.” You turned your head toward Gaz and offered him a look that was a mix of thankfulness and regret. 

“Shite. You're still standing, lieutenant?” Price probed in a tone that, only those close to him could tell, was full of doubt and concern.

“Yes sir.” You pushed further into the lab taking extra care where your steps landed. The lab had been recently abandoned by russian terrorists working on some kind of bioweapon. You could only hope that you didn’t just get dosed with whatever they were concocting. As the three of you pressed further into the dingy lab you felt like the mass of your body was slowly doubling. 

“Soap. Gaz. If I drop, I need two to keep moving. We need to get this intel out of here as soon as we find it.” You could faintly hear the heavy footsteps of the terrorists behind you.

“No way in hell we’re leaving you behind.” Gaz contended. 

“Listen I-” 

You were quickly interrupted by Laswell’s voice in your ear, “Pepper. Evac will get to you and the boys in 11 minutes. It’ll be 2 clicks north of your current location. We’ll get you to the safe house from there.” 

“Copy.” You replied as Soap took a step closer and fixed his mouth to ready a response to your order. 

“Lass I don-”

“Listen. We don't have time for this. I don’t know what I got hit with but I know that at the moment we have a job to do. Let’s keep moving while I can and clear the files we came for. You will keep moving if I drop and that’s final. This mission can't be a waste of time.” You were met with an apprehensive “Yes Ma’am” and a “got it LT” and you snapped your head around to continue sweeping the lab. 

You knew you were being harsh but if you gave them room to argue you’d be stuck here going back and forth with them about it. Truthfully it was a ruse to make it look like you weren’t basically shitting bricks. You couldn’t stop the thoughts that flew through your mind.  I’m going to die today. Holy fuck I’m not making it out of this. I don’t know what I got hit with. How long do I have? You didn’t have much going on in your home life so the thought of a family didn’t even cross your mind until you thought about who around you did have one. Soap had his sisters back in Scotland that loved to “force” him to watch those really crappy rom-coms that he claimed he hated so much but then recommended for team bonding nights. Then you had Gaz who had his mom waiting at home for him. She always sent him care packages with little hand written notes that gave him updates on the status of his neighbors’ cat who had slowly been making itself comfortable on their property back in London. She even sent him photos of the cheeky little tuxedo cat. Your mind shifted from thoughts about yourself to thoughts about them. I have to get these boys out of here. They have so much going for them. They really are some of the best we have to offer. I can’t let them down. If I can't get out of here at least they can. 

Gaz went to the computer and plugged in a decryption device and began to sift through the scientist's digital files while Soap went through some of the scattered papers left in the room.

“They were in such a rush to get out of here they weren’t even effective at scrubbing their drives. Pep, I think I might have something.” You walked to the computer Gaz was stationed at and noticed a folder titled “Project Vitality”. 

“Good job, Gaz get it and we go. Soap anything?”

“A couple of poorly redacted files with the same name.” Soap chipped from your left. You made your way to him and patted his shoulder in praise.

“Alright we gotta move.” You heard the footsteps boom as the incoming enemies approached. You felt yourself slowly start to stall and noticed you had a difficult time focusing your eyes. It was like you were wearing a pair of glasses that weren’t meant for you and you couldn’t take them off. You willed your eyes to focus but it was becoming a hassle. Fuck me. You turned your head to Soap on your left and said, “Soap I need you to take point on the way out. I'll watch our backs as we exit.”

“Are you-” he started then pressed out a short, “Will do.” The look on his face was filled with so much concern, that for his sake, you almost wanted him to ask you if you were okay. He turned and rushed out of the room followed by Gaz and you at the back. The three of you navigated the winding corridors of the combatant base and made your way back, passing the rooms you had previously cleared. 

“Pepper. How we doing?” Price questioned over comms.

“Got the documents and drives, sir.”

“I know you did. That’s not what I’m asking about.”

“What kind of answer do you want, Cap?

“You know what I want to hear.” You knew Price wanted the truth but you couldn't let him know the fact that you might be starting to lose motor function and that the mass of your body felt like it had doubled. There was a large part of you that wanted to make him proud and craved his approval so the thought of disappointing him always stirred something deep inside you. But then there was Gaz and Soap. They were your sergeants and they often looked to you for guidance. The image they had of you rarely faltered from confidence and strength. They were right by your side and were clearly worried for you. If you told the truth to them they probably want to stop and question your status or maybe even try to do some kind of makeshift field evaluation on you and you’d definitely lose out on valuable time. 

A shaky, “I’m doing just fine, sir.” fell from your lips then silence. A sigh from Price that was then followed by a gruff, “Bring it in safe. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Of course sir.” You acknowledged. He knew you were lying. The slight tremor in your voice told him exactly what he needed to know. 

Soap led the three of you out of the compound but not without running into a couple of the remaining terrorists that missed your group upon arrival. You, although struggling to see and move, caught the slight movement as you three made your way to the entrance of the compound. A brown jacket sleeve that moved just a bit too slow was all you needed to gather that the combatants had reached your location. Years of intense practice and strenuous training had you firing your weapon with a practiced precision that was barely impacted by your declining physical state. 

As soon as you exited the compound you were met with a glaring brightness from the snow of the siberian tundra. The almost blinding whiteness was a massive contrast to the dimly lit compound so the massive shift in intensity had your head spinning. Gaz noticed you stumbling but only met you with a face of concern and a hand on your shoulder as he watched you struggle to get your bearings. 

Trekking through the Siberian tundra in your worsening condition was one of the hardest things you'd had to do in your career. The whirling of the wind was so intense that it felt like someone was screaming directly next to your ear and the pressure of it was enough to make your head pound. The snow was coming down so hard that each snowflake that hit your face felt like a tiny pin prick over and over again. Your feet were so deep in the snow that it felt like you were gaining an extra 20 pounds of weight with the effects of the drug starting to control your movements. You tried to pull yourself together. It was undeniable at this point that you would not be winning the battle against whatever medication they injected you with.

“2 minutes till evac” Ghost chimed in your earpiece. Your hearing was so sensitive that you could almost feel the loud mechanical static and the whirl of the helicopter in the background of his response.

“Oh my days. Ghost is the one flying us out? I don’t want to end up out the bloody chopper again” Gaz groaned. Oh. I wasn’t the only one to hear the helicopter then. 

“It was either me or you freeze out there, Sergeant.”

“LT, if you fly that thing the way you drive, Gaz might be better staying down here. Less chance of him getting thrown from the bloody thing.” Soap chirped. 

The world slowly started to look like a mass of colors and shapes with no definite beginning or end. The only thing you could do at this point was push and pray that you were gonna have enough strength to make it to the evac point. Everything was so intense that overwhelming wasn't even the right word to describe the feeling. You struggled to pick up your head as you began to hear another distinct whooshing sound that could only belong to that of a Puma HC2.

“I’m here aren’t I?” Soap and Gaz stopped moving as Ghost put the helicopter on the ground. 

“I’m glad you are sir. Good to see you, Ghost.” Soapsaid as he flung the door open and made his way on the aircraft.

“Always good to see that ugly mug of yours, Johnny.” Ghost turned his head to get a good look at everyone. “ Pepper, you don't look too hot.” Ghost concluded as you dragged yourself into the seat next to what you could have only imagined was Gaz. The words that came out of your mouth were something along the lines of “Not” and “Good” but no one really understood you with how slurred your response was. They did however understand that something was really wrong when your body slumped backward and went limp next to Gaz. You could vaguely hear the commotion of Gaz, Soap, and Simon, around you as they shouted your name and desperately tried to keep you from slipping out of consciousness. The last thing you heard was Price pressing to be informed on your state and him telling Ghost to get all of you to the safe house. 

---

“A neurotoxin that sends the body into overdrive. Increases nervous sensitivity and impulsivity, and impairs functionality of the prefrontal cortex and hippocampus.” Price read from the lab report with a stubby cigar in hand.

“Why the hell would they want to make something like that?” Gaz questions.

“Apparently in small doses it can be used as an aphrodisiac that it increases blood flow throughout the body, promotes sexual stamina, and increases pleasure outcomes? They must’ve been trying to develop something to sell on the streets.” Price continues.

“Right so they dosed her with super viagra?” Soap questioned. 

“That's what it sounds like?” Gaz said. 

“I thought that stuff didn't work on women?” Simon interjected. 

“It looks like they’ve altered it so it impacts both sexes but they haven’t been able to work out the less desirable symptoms. Tachycardia, fever, headache, dizziness, loss of consciousness, heart failure, and death.” Price paced as he read the outcomes. 

“Oh shit.”

“Heart failure? Death? How do we make sure that that doesn’t happen?” Gaz frantically questioned.

“The only way the toxin can be expelled from the body is through coitus…” Price trailed off as he dropped his cigar into a bowl. That can’t be right. He read it three times just to be sure and the words on the page didn’t change. 

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap deadpanned.

“No blood way.” Gaz stood with an open mouth. 

“Someone has to fuck her.” Simon said. 

---

When you awoke, you noticed you were lying on a firm mattress and were surrounded by the smell of smoke laced with a heavy sweetness that only came from Price’s cigars. You felt undeniably cold and couldn’t help but to shiver. You rubbed your fingers across your palms and felt them drenched in sweat. As you slowly began to turn to your side, you were overwhelmed with the feeling of the rough sheet that laid under you. 

“What the fuck?” You noticed that you had been stripped out of your vest and snow gear and were left in your black polyester thermals. You could feel every inch of fabric that you wore and immediately moved to take off the thermals. You were left in your sports bra and underwear.  Why am I taking off my clothes? I’m freezing? You ran your hands up and down your body trying to get a semblance of warmth but then decided that putting thermals back on would be too much for your unusually sensitive skin. As you dragged your hand down the sides of your thighs you couldn't help but notice how good it felt to touch yourself. You moved your hands to your inner thighs and couldn’t contain the moan that slipped from your mouth. You brushed your hand over the gusset of your panties and whined at the feel of your hand gliding over your already sensitive clit. 

“Pepper?” rushed out of Gaz’s mouth as he entered the room. He looked over to the pile of thermals on the end of the bed. “How are you feeling?” he probed.  When did Gaz get so attractive? He wore a red henley that hugged his arms perfectly and his soft curls made an appearance without the presence of his well worn UK hat. He made his way over to you and touched your forehead. “You’re burning up. Damn. The fever’s started.” The feeling of his hand on you was almost indescribable. He was warm and firm and exactly what you felt you needed at that moment. 

You felt yourself acting on purely impulse as you grabbed his hand and dragged it down to your mouth. You started to kiss his palm and moved your attention to his thumb. You placed it firmly between your lips and began to suck. “Oh fuck.” Gaz exhaled as he watched you with wide eyes. You continued your ministrations and moved from his thumb to his index and middle fingers. You began to lick around his digits before you engulfed them in your mouth with a guttural moan. You could taste the salt and gunpowder from the mission and it only made you crave him more. You lifted your gaze to him and willed your eyes to meet his. The groan that fell from his lips was divine. You removed his fingers from your mouth and helped his hand descend to where you really needed him. “Fuck. No. I can't do that princess. Not when you're like this.”

“But I really really want you to. Come on, Kyle. It’ll help me feel so much better.” You purred. Gaz let out a shaky breath, pulled his hand from you, and walked out the room but not without you noticing him readjusting himself in his pants. Fine, I'll do it myself. You sighed and pulled your panties down your legs till they rested at your ankles. You slid your fingers between your legs and gasped at how wet you were. You slowly started to trail your finger through your folds, collecting some of the wetness that had dripped from you and began to rub your clit. As soon as your finger pressed against your reactive little nub you were in heaven. You started in small circular motions and rubbed until you felt you needed more. You moved your other hand to your breast and tugged at your nipple. You kneaded and grabbed your breast like it was the key to your survival. You’ve never felt like this before. It's like you can feel everything, everywhere, all at the same time. You felt the rough fabric of the sheets, the scratchy wool of the pillow behind your head and you felt the soft cotton that was resting around your ankles.  You were still shivering from the fever but you felt like you could feel the stimulation of your clit in your toes. You needed more. 

You moved your hand from your plush breast to rest right at your soaked opening. You circled your middle finger a few times just to get it wet, and sank right into your leaking entrance. “Oh fuuuuuck”. You could feel the pressure of the finger at your walls as you started to curve your finger inside of yourself searching for your g-spot. You continued rubbing your clit and curling your finger inside of you hoping to seek your elease. It felt so good but it just wasn't enough. You slipped in another finger and moaned at the intrusion. You started to pant and whine with how good you were feeling, but you felt yourself needing more. You continued the calculated movements and felt your orgasm approaching. You just needed a little more. One more push to get you there. One curl of your finger turned to two, then to three, then the pleasure turned into frustration. “Fuuuuuuck.” You groaned as you  pulled your fingers from your body and layed on the mattress in a heap of sweat and frustration. You felt yourself slowly drift back into the unconscious void even as you worked to steady your breaths.  

---

“She sucked my fingers. Wanted me to fuck her. With my fingers. Uh she begged me to. And she was down to her knickers” Gaz confessed as he dropped his eyes to his combat boots, too unsure to look at his team. 

“Did you lad?” Price probed. 

“No, I couldn't do it. I really thought about it and I- I don't know. She definitely has a fever though.”

“Hm.” Was all that left Price's mouth. 

“We're gonna have to check up on her. Make sure her heart isn't working too hard and see how to keep her satiated. For her sake.” Simon stated matter of factly. 

“Does it say it has to be expelled through “sexual intercourse” or can she just, ya know, uh.. “Get there”, and work it out her system.” Soap questioned, looking toward Price and seeking the answers he normally has. 

“Johnny. It says coitus.” Simon replied. 

“No one’s gonna fuck her like this. It’s not right.” Gaz stated.

“What if we have to?” Soap doubted.

“Maybe we should see if an orgasm is the solution. If that doesn't work then last resort, someone will do what needs to be done.” Price said with a sense of finality. 

---

You felt the press of two fingers at your carotid artery and shivered at the warmth they offered. You fluttered your eyes open and nearly jumped out of your skin when they met dark brown ones behind a human skull mask. You’d seen Simon before and regularly worked with him but you'd never woken to him standing over you like the grim reaper.  

“Jesus, Simon.” 

“‘Just checking your heart rate.” He confirmed. Simon almost always has his gloves on. To feel his fingers at your neck had you craving more of his touch. You grabbed his hand that was at your neck and splayed it across your jugular. You looked up at him with full, pleading eyes and felt him squeeze a bit. A light moan left your lips as you begged him to squeeze harder. The groan that left his mouth would surely implant itself in the depths of your mind for years to come. The sound coming from him went straight to your core and you felt yourself clenching your thighs. 

“Simon, please.”

“Fuckin’ hell. Don’t look at me like that. Not while you've got your knickers round your ankles.”

“Please. Si. I need you. I’m so fucking horny. I can feel everything Simon. Please just help me feel good. I promise I’ll be good. You can use me however you want. However you need to. Please.”

“Don't say that y/n.” He turned his gaze away from your face. 

“I mean it. Please help me.”

“Just my fingers darling.” 

“Yes. Yes, thank you so much.” You nodded your head eagerly and bit down on your lip. If your fingers weren't working to get you there, maybe his would. You parted your legs for him and he hung his head and rolled his shoulders while he let out a deep “Fuck”. His grip on your neck tightened and you felt your head go light. “Oh fuck yes.” His other hand made its way between your plush legs and ran between your folds. Simon’s eyes were locked onto your pussy and he was in awe of how wet you were. He knew what the toxins effects on you were but to see them in person had him stiff as a board in his pants.  Fuck this was so wrong of him. He knew he wanted to help you but part of him was living out his sick and twisted fantasies. To have you, a stunning woman, dripping wet and begging for him to fuck you, he’d be insane to not feel at least a bit aroused. He dragged a finger around your clit and almost purred at the whine that left your lips. He continued to make slow and tedious circles around your clit. 

“Simon, please I need more. Can you - mmm fuck- can you fuck me?” How could he deny you when you’ve asked him so nicely. 

“Only with my fingers, darling.” He slipped in two fingers and groaned at how tight you were. Your back arched so deeply and he wondered to himself what it would be like to be behind you when you arched like that. Simon began to work his fingers inside of you. He started with slow but deep pumping motions and moved onto scissoring his fingers inside of you searching for that special spot that he knows will make you tick. Your breath hitched in your throat and you let out a long high pitched squeal. 

“Is that it, darling? Right there? Hm?” He beamed with a sense of condescension that made your pussy tighten on his fingers. 

“Oh fuck Simon. Please, please let me cum.” His fingers were hitting all of the right parts of you and you felt your orgasm nearing. 

“Of course you can come, darling. Fucking soak my fingers. I know you need it. Come on, darling.”

You slid your hand down to your clit and rubbed it in furious circles. His grip tightened on your neck and you felt fuzzy everywhere. “Cum all over my fingers. Make a mess, why don't you.” And at that final comment from Simon, you felt the band within you snap as you had one of the most intense orgasms of your life. Your toes curled and your back was nearly curved into a C shape. Your pussy clenched and unclenched as Simon continued his assault. You felt your ears ringing from the intensity of the orgasm and felt like you lost hearing for a little moment. As you panted and tried to recover from your climax, Simon removed his drenched fingers from you, lifted his mask to just below his nose, and brought his hand up to his mouth. He locked eyes with you and you watched him in amazement as he cleaned you from his fingers. Your eyes flutter at how intense the sight was. His strong jaw, scarred but pink lips, and traces of stubble left you wanting more. He moved the hand that was on your neck back to your pulse point to check your heart rate.

“It’s slowed a bit. Get some rest," and with that he left the room and you felt yourself slip from consciousness.

[novthirty]

🐦‍⬛ OUT OF BOUNDS — you get isekai-d into the n109 zone [chapter four]

synopsis — the monotony of your university days is interrupted by a stroke of misfortune, one which lands you in the world of love and deepspace, the game you had been casually playing for the previous months. with no way to return home, sylus offers you the job of being his personal secretary. — a continuation of the one-shot “out of bounds”

pairing — sylus x non-mc! reader

tags — reader is not mc, isekai/transmigration, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slice of life, boss/employee relationship, slow burn, grief, mourning, loss

a/n — we have finally reached the long awaited reader crashout and are nearing the end… i hope you all enjoy! this chapter was fucking with me for so long and i wanted to take my time rather than under deliver. this story means a lot to me and i’m trying my best to make sure it pays off well<33 but still, 18k words was not easy to edit so please don't mind any slight errors 😓 also, caleb came home in 30 pulls so do expect a birthday fic coming soon ~ (whether it'll be on time for his birthday is the question...)

ao3 | masterlist | series masterlist | part three | part five [coming soon]

chapter four: inevitable — it’s hard to shine when you’re standing between the sun and the moon. wc: 18.6k

The hunter’s arrival is no more than a whisper within the N109 Zone. 

Sylus has kept the truth of her existence under lock and key, hiding his weakness under steel and chainmail. As far as the world knows, his interest lies in the protocore attached to her heart — and he plans to keep it that way. Biding his time, preparing for the day he carefully steps into her life.

But, like the force of nature she was, the hunter manages to find her own way in.

He’s the image of cool confidence as he’s informed of her capture in enemy hands, draping a blazer atop his shoulders and instructing the twins to start the car. “Will you be able to hold the fort on your own?” He asks.

But you can see the barest tremor in his hands, the tension in his shoulders, the rising fear of losing her before he even gets to see her with his own two eyes.

“You can count on me.”

This is the only peace you can offer him in the midst of this chaos. 

His eyes continue to linger, as if time wasn’t of the essence. Little words have been exchanged between the two of you since the hunter came into the picture. And for a moment, you think he might say something (please, say something). But all he does is grip your shoulder as if to ground himself, nodding in a silent ‘thank you’ before he leaves. 

The door shuts behind him. 

You know how this story goes. It was only a matter of time before he reunited with his lover in this life, before the story would continue along its tracks and catch you in the crossfire. 

Your search for a way home had become painfully futile. You’d think a world altered by the discovery of the Deepspace Tunnel would have more answers to the truth of your presence here, but your search had dug up nothing. Wormholes, dimensional travel, transmigration; from the philosophical to the scientific, all paths led to dead ends. 

You sit listless in your chair, fiddling with the necklace Sylus gave you as you wait for your life to be thrown into chaos. 

Staring into the metropolitan abyss of the N109 Zone, you sometimes like to imagine what sylus sees. An ant-like web of crimes and deceit, of power-hungry folks looking to get ahead and eat each other alive in the process. But all you ever see is a world beyond your understanding. And here, you wonder where you fit in this ecosystem; what your presence has done to change the story. 

You burst into terrible, broken laughter.

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. 

You were but a drop of water in the ocean. There was nothing that you, with no worth or significance to your name, could do to make more than a solitary ripple.

And so, you keep your longings locked and your love as just thoughts, as you wait in bated breath for the story and their fated reunion to begin.

—————————————————————

“Where are you taking me?” Her voice is biting as the twins bring her to the room you’ve prepared. Ornate, spacious, and windowless, just as Sylus asked. A gilded cage with an open door. You don’t see her but her rage rings through the corridors, something that feels almost like a hallucination after having stepped in her shoes, reading the story you once adored.

Her arrival is a marker of the story catching up to you, of time catching up to you. A reminder that you do not belong in this world. 

In the next few days, you become a quiet observer of this tale, watching their fractured reunion play out.

“What makes you think I'd ever be willing to help you?” She snapped at Sylus after their third failure at resonance, a sad attempt at a threat when she lay exhausted, slumped in the fancy chair in his study.

“You don’t exactly have a choice, sweetie. As you can see —” He gestures to the opulent surroundings, “— you’re in my territory.”

You roll your eyes. Trust Sylus to make a shit first impression, even to the supposed love of his life.

You keep to the sidelines, going about your typical routine. But your curiosity gets the better of you on the second day, when you offer to bring the hunter her food. 

You can’t help but imagine being in her shoes right now; kidnapped by the man she believes to have destroyed her home and killed her family. To an extent, you think it might not be so different to how you felt, first arriving here.

So, you decide to reach out. Maybe gain her trust and coax her into eating and regaining her strength. Food is the way to the heart, after all. At dinner time, you bring a tray to her room, knocking on the door and calling her name.

“Who's there?” She asks from the other side of the door, wariness lacing her voice. 

You introduce yourself, “It’s me, Sylus's secretary. Aren’t you hungry?” You soften your voice, treating her with the gentleness you would a cornered animal, but you’re met with silence. Concern gnaws at you, “You haven’t eaten in twenty four hours.”

She scoffs, the sound muffled by the barrier between you two. “What, isn’t that your plan? Starve me til’ I’m too weak to escape and resist Sylus's demands?”

You stop in your tracks, puzzled. “Escape? You know you can leave, right? No one’s going to stop you.” Even the door was unlocked. But you believed knocking was a basic form of respect, unwilling visitor or not.

She stays tight-lipped for the next few moments, so you continue, “Not that you’d get any further than a couple blocks, what with vultures hanging around the compound at all hours of the day—” Your spiel is cut off as she suddenly swings the door open, doing a double take at the sight of you.

It’s clear she sees the resemblance just as you had, her face contorting from defensiveness to stunned confusion. But for you, seeing her in the flesh only refuted any idea of similarity between the two of you.

Haggard and bruised, the hunter still manages to shine in the gritty underbelly of the N109 Zone.

When you first saw her face projected in the hologram, the likeness was unmistakable. The shape of your eyes, the slope of your nose, and the barely-there difference in the color of your hair and complexion. Anyone could have mistaken the two of you as cousins, maybe even siblings. But standing in front of her now, the difference has become clear as day.

You can’t help but understand how so many have fallen head over heels, enthralled by her and her character. In the shadow of her energy and vivacious presence, you could only look dim in comparison. Standing beside Sylus was no small feat — one that you’d failed to live up to, looking nondescript and ordinary at the side of the most powerful man in the N109 Zone. 

But of course, she fits like the missing piece to his puzzle. The dragon and the sorceress, now the criminal and the hunter. You try not to feel inferior, tamping down the jealousy and pettiness festering within you, but it’s hard to shine when you’re standing between the sun and the moon.

The initial surprise dissipates, and she eyes you with the mistrust expected of a kidnapee twice-over. You extend the tray towards her as a sign of good will, “Eat it while it’s still hot.”

“...How do I know it’s not poisoned?”

You huff, taking a quick bite. “Happy now?” 

She snatches the tray and slams the door behind her in one quick motion. You click your tongue; so much for gaining her trust. 

—————————————————————

Time had dulled your memory of how awful their first meeting truly was. 

Really, what was Sylus thinking? You wonder as he treats his treasured soulmate so… menacingly. 

You’ve become a bystander to the motions of the story you’re familiar with; the failed resonance, her disdain for him, and his absolute lack of tact in interacting with her. With his every word coated in menace and veiled threats, you’re wondering if Sylus was even thinking at all. Was he like this when you two first met? You try to recall as you get the ick from his unexpected hostility.

You want to know what’s running through his mind, what possessed him to think this was the appropriate way to go about this. But since the hunter’s arrival, your time with him had become even more scarce, any moment together cut off by his work or your urgency to leave. 

Guilt washes over you each time you see his face drop, when you make another hasty escape from facing him. But you cling on to the belief that this was necessary, to give you both space to adjust to the hunter’s presence, and for you to learn to live with the fact that he was not yours.

The two return from the workshop, and you stride into the office to give your daily secretarial report — only to find him hunched at his desk with a glass of wine, staring vacantly into the skyline of the N109 Zone.

In the dimly lit office, his eyes, shrouded by the shadows, give away nothing. But you catch the way his shoulders tense, his fingers clenching the stem of the glass. 

“Sylus?” You call out gently, announcing your presence with audible footsteps as you approach him, breaking your internal promise to keep your distance. But you could only hold out this one-sided silence for so long, weak in the face of his vulnerability. 

He calls your name with a weary tone, “Do me a favor and tell the informant I won't be meeting him today.”

“Are you okay? What happened?” You take slow steps in approaching him.

He fiddles with the stem of his wine glass as he releases a low, bitter laugh, “Well… it seems that our dearest hunter fears me. It was not any bodily dysfunction or injury that was preventing us from resonating, but rather her disgust.”

She captured his heart, bound his soul to hers, and now has no recollection of any of it. Detests him to the point her evol rejects his. 

You feign ignorance to the story beats you remember, “Well, it’s only been so long since you’ve met her again… If she’s still the same person, her memories of you are still there, deep down.”

“As if the world hasn’t made me wait long enough.” 

You don’t know what to say to that — heart torn between feeling bruised and feeling sadness for him.

“I'd like to be alone.” He takes a deep breath, a subtle command as returns his gaze to the skyline, guarding his vulnerability, unwilling to bare more of his weaknesses than he already has.

The world sees Sylus as an unstoppable force, as the supreme authority in the criminal underworld. But though the dragon may be fierce and capable, the human underneath was just that — a human. One that got frustrated, whose skin bruised, who had weaknesses that he guarded with veiled ferocity. But somehow, somewhere along the way, he’d chosen to strip the curtains of that vulnerability to you.

Maybe in another world, you would have taken him into your arms, refused to leave him as he quietly fell apart. But in this reality, it was no longer your place to do so. As it was, he had promised his heart to another, leaving yours too tender to comfort his.

The only peace you could offer him now was the privacy to crumble in solitude.

Still, you couldn’t bear to leave him so quietly. “You’re not a hard person to love. You know that, right?” You whisper, a quiet admission of your feelings. For all his gruff and intimidating nature, it was not his power, money, or looks that earned him your affection. But rather, all the softness he guards from the harsh world he lives in.

You shut the door before he can acknowledge you, trying to wipe the mental image of his conflicted expression. You mute his email for the next hour, redirecting it to your inbox, offering him a brief moment of peace to ruminate in his thoughts.

You laugh silently, bitterly to yourself, for giving so much of yourself for a man who was devoted to another. Despite having been set aside, you still can’t help but show your love for him in the only way you know how. (In the only way you can).

And you wonder to yourself: could you ever touch the part of him that hurts? One of the most powerful men in this world, having his world shaken by the hunter’s disdain. If it were your spite, your hurt that he faced, would it even feel close to the gravity he feels now? 

You shouldn’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to. 

You had found yourself in the deep end, and it was high time to swim back to shore, to back out of this one-sided race. Because you may have received his affection, but you will never receive the depth of his devotion.

—————————————————————

Hostility melts into mischievous affection as the hunter’s dynamic with Sylus takes a sudden pivot into unfamiliar territory. The visit to the shopkeeper marked a turning point in their relationship as Sylus came to his senses, and their relationship evolved for the better. The truth to their tied souls, you think, as you bear witness to the connection quickly blossoming between them.

You’re fine. Really, you are. 

(At least, that’s what you tell yourself each time you see the soft smile on his face, melting in adoration for the hunter.)

You stop avoiding him, after catching a glimpse of the vulnerability he attempts to hide. His face lights up whenever you approach him, breaking the silence you kept for so long. And not for the first time, you feel guilt wash over you for how you added to his existing turmoil.

But still, you’re left wondering about your place in his life now that the hunter has arrived. 

The pages turn one after another as the two of you fall back into old routines, nurturing the friendship and camaraderie you built over the past year. But not everything stays the same.

You maintain your boundaries, keeping your nightmares and worries to yourself — settling for long, lonely nights, when the alternative is setting yourself up for a painful road. 

One night, you find a rare moment of peace in the recent chaos. The two of you battle over this world’s version of Monopoly in a high-stakes, cutthroat bet to determine who will have the first taste of Luke and Kieran’s slightly… dubious creation in the kitchen.  

They had taken up a class in baking after catching you one too many times in the dead of the night, making midnight snacks. A fact which warmed your heart, at first, until you realized that neither twin has ever touched a stove in their lives. The clanging of pots and shouts coming from the kitchen only serve to fill you with dread. 

You try your best, but eventually resign yourself to your fate. You know a lost cause when you see it. You didn’t exactly expect death by food poisoning, but when you think about it, it wasn’t a bad way to go.

“Can’t you let this poor salaryman pass through? Just this once?” You pout on the second hour of playing this stupid board game, putting on your best puppy eyes as you implore him to pity your little player.

“That wouldn’t be fair to you, sweetie.” He smiles as you begrudgingly hand over the play money for landing on his property.

His attention is focused solely on you, a rarity since the hunter’s arrival. But even with the scarce time you’ve spent together, you can’t pretend not to have noticed the growing bags under his eyes, the constant furrow in his brow. He’s handled the chaos in the N109 Zone with the stride of a man who knows his word is law; but at the expense of his own health and rest.

In perfect timing, the game ends just as the twins exit the kitchen, dressed in matching aprons and holding a plate of mini strawberry shortcakes. You end up losing, as expected, but Sylus is a good sport — taking a bite right alongside you. 

It’s… not bad at all, especially for a beginner. A little wonky and undercooked in the middle, the edges slightly burnt. But it’s edible. “Not bad,” You say — and immediately correct yourself, “Not that I thought it would be! But it’s good. Better than my first go at it, at least.” You leave out the age you were when you first touched an oven — all worth it to see their eyes shining from your praise.

”Awe, thanks, Miss Secretary! It was all in a day’s work,” Luke grins as he fixes his crooked apron. 

Of course, Sylus is Sylus. Eliciting his praise is like pulling out teeth. “It’s… acceptable, I’ll admit,” He says with a satisfied hum. 

Still, it’s enough for the twins to celebrate with a high five, “Hell yeah!”

The four of you clear half the tray, before bidding the twins good night, the two  suddenly tired from the sugar crash. “Amateurs,” You tease. They probably kept taste-testing the ingredients.

“I hadn't expected baking to become such an… outlet of energy for them.” Sylus comments, stealing a strawberry from your piece. You retaliate by getting a scoop of his whipped cream. 

“Well, most people I know started baking as some sort of distraction or stress relief,” You eat a forkful of cake and nod in approval. Every storm in your life has been followed by the creation of more pastries than you could possibly eat. “If it distracts them from the pranks, then I wholeheartedly approve!” You cheerily stake your fork into the air.

“Knowing the twins, they’ll just find a way to incorporate it,” He eyes the kitchen doors skeptically, not wanting their mischief to bleed into the food they eat.

With all the sugar you just consumed, it was clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon. “Wanna clear this batch with me? Before they go and stock the fridge with the rest of their projects.”

“I'm afraid I'll have to take a rain check on that,” He says as he puts on his blazer again, standing up from the dining table.

“Hm? But there wasn’t anything on the calendar, last I checked. Did I miss —”

You’ve already brought out your phone to view the shared calendar when he explains, “I’ll be meeting with the hunter regarding a little… deal, that she’s brokered.” He leans down to match your height and ruffles your hair. “Don’t worry, Miss Secretary. Your schedule’s still intact.”

You roll your eyes, trying to muster a smile as you remind him, “Be nice.”

He raises an eyebrow, “When am I not?” Tch. When is he ever? 

Soon, you settle in the silence of an empty kitchen — and the thought of more cake doesn’t sound so appealing anymore. It’s never easy hearing of the two spending time together, much less seeing them in the penthouse everyday. But you’d rather have a friendship with Sylus than nothing at all. And you can only hope that with time, one day, it won’t hurt at all anymore. 

For a brief period of time, you have hope of that possibility. You think if you hold these boundaries in place and protect your friendship, things might just return to normal. Even if it means the end to anything more.  

That is, until the arrival of the auction.

The Solon Hotel celebrates its 15th annual auction, a Myriad of Nights. The crinkled invitation has been pinned to your corkboard for months, a dreaded reminder of all the preparations you needed to make.

The event has kept you on your toes; dutifully studying the list of guests, keeping an eye on keen bidders and Onychinus rivals. This auction is one of the N109 Zone’s most important events of the year, with the grossly rich and the violently powerful alike having a stake in this auction.

One week before the auction, Sylus strolls into the office, a sly smile plastered on his face, “I come bearing good news.”

You roll out your chair to face him. Without missing a beat, you ask, “A raise? World peace? Luke and Kieran outgrowing their terrible twos?”

“I'm not a miracle worker,” He smirks at that last one. “No, I've come to tell you that you’ve been granted a night off on the 17th.” 

“The 17th?” You question — and he amusedly spins your chair before striding over to his desk, ready to start the work day. But you’re left dazed, stopping the wheel as you pull up the shared digital calendar, confirming your suspicions. “But that’s the night of the auction.”

“Miss Hunter will be covering for you.”

“Oh?” Your face falls in an obvious dismay you can’t hide. 

The auction. Like many things from the story that have become hazy over time, the auction had slipped your mind. With how far back preparations had started, you completely overlooked its connection with the hunter’s arrival.

“She has her own agenda for the night,” He continues, “One that promises bloodshed. So, I want you to rest easy for the night. Take a well deserved break.”

By all accounts, you should be glad. You can’t blame him for making this decision, as you vocally detest going to these events. It’s easily the least enjoyable part of your job. But even with the foreknowledge you had, the thought of her taking your place weighs like a heavy brick in your stomach.

He realizes you’re not exactly pleased. “You can still come if you’d like to, of course,” He’s quick to assure you. “I thought you might enjoy the night off since you despise dealing with these affairs. I didn’t take you for being such a workaholic,” He chuckles affectionately, motioning to ruffle your hair — but you pull away, a little too abruptly.

You see his face fall, and you quickly brush it off and pretend to be unaffected, “Ah, ah, ah — no can do, slave driver!” You dramatically make a letter X with your arms. “You can’t take away a day off once you’ve given it.”

He rolls his eyes, but the concern doesn’t leave his face as he tries to coax you into opening up, eyes filled with a quiet honesty, “There’s no need to pretend like you’re not bothered by this. I know you’ve worked hard for this event.”

“Sylus, you don’t need to worry about me. You have bigger fish to fry. Besides, why would I be bothered by a day off?” You try to play it off. 

He sighs, accepting that you’re not going to talk about this any further. “Well, you know that there’s no one who can do your job better, right?” He places a hand on your shoulder, “I just don’t want you getting caught in the trouble that’s bound to ensue.”

You muster a smile, “Of course. After all, what would you do without your dearest secretary?”

He smirks, mind flashing to a night that now feels further than the sun. “Descend into chaos, no doubt.”

As though you were a scorned lover, you watch them from the mezzanine of the penthouse, dressed in your frilly pajamas and sipping a hot mug of tea as they leave dressed to the nines. The criminal and the hunter, two souls cut from the same cloth.

As much as it hurts you to stay behind, there was no way you would be able to stomach the picture perfect image of them together.

“Ready?” He offers his arm with the mannerisms of a perfect escort.

“It's showtime.”

“You lovebirds leaving without me?” You can’t help but be a little dramatic and interrupt their moment — though, Sylus definitely sensed your presence long before they entered. “Could’ve saved me a dance, at least.”

The hunter’s face scrunches in disdain at the mention of lovebirds, but she quickly recovers. “Oh, I think there’ll be more than just dancing, Miss Secretary,” She cheekily lifts the slit of her dress, showing a peek of the pistol strapped to her thigh. 

Despite already knowing they’ll have a safe return, your brows knit in worry, “Stay safe out there, you two.”

“You know we can’t promise that — but we’ll make a good effort,” Sylus smirks at you, a hint of concern in his eyes at the idea of leaving you behind.

You nod, a silent way of saying you’ll be okay. You wave goodbye and the hunter returns it eagerly, having warmed up to you in the past week. But the concerned, knowing look never leaves Sylus's face until they depart. 

The elevator doors slide shut, and it feels like a coffin closing over your heart. 

You laugh at how dramatic you’re being as you hold back a slight tear. It’s just an auction, you keep telling yourself. But it’s not the auction, isn’t it? It was seeing her take your place, and knowing this won’t be the last time.

You pick yourself back up, resolving to make the most of your night off. You make yourself comfortable in the living room, blanket and couch all to yourself, a movie running as background noise as you try to distract yourself with all sorts of hobbies. But you find yourself listless, unable to keep your mind focused on one thing.

The movie ends, and it becomes quiet.

With Sylus gone and the twins on a mission, the silence becomes all consuming. You leave a light on for when they return, trekking through opulent hallways until you reach your room, where once again, you stare into the city skyline stretching out into the distance. 

There’s rarely ever an opportunity to be alone in the Onychinus base. But when you are, it never ends well. You used to be able to appreciate solitude in your old world, but maybe you’ve become a little spoiled here, in receiving the constant companionship you had once lived without as a student living away from home. 

Here, solitude is when the lines between your dreams and reality begin to blur. Hours dazed in the possibilities of the past, the possibilities of a world where you had stayed. Graduated, diploma in hand as your family stands proudly at your side. Starting your career, devoting your passion to the field you love.

In comparison, this place feels like a lovely yet imprisoning dream. You’re fascinated by the wonders of the world you live in now, but each day that passes is a reminder of your place — or rather, lack thereof — in this world. A reminder of losses beyond comprehension. The loss of chance. The loss of possibility. No opportunity for you to grow, no winding path to change and evolve. And you ask yourself: are you even living?

This world feels like dreaming in a far-too-long nap. And not for the first time, you want to wake up from it.

It's currently March, the last of the winter chill before the snow melts, marking more than a year since your arrival. You feel like a broken record, looping back to the same hurts in an endless loop of grief; your doomed love, severed home, rootless soul. You can no longer fool yourself into thinking you can continue like this. You can no longer pretend to have a reason to stay.

You need to spare yourself from this grief, before it consumes you. 

—————————————————————

The auction reaches a chaotic conclusion, one that is whispered about through the N109 Zone for weeks after. You feel the ripples of their actions even from the safety of your office. Luke and Kieran are sent to clean house at The Nest. Meanwhile, you’re swamped with associates from Onychinus’s complex web of loyalties, scrambling to reclaim their spot in Sylus's good graces in light of the recent power struggle. 

Eventually, the dust settles. The pages of the calendar turn as the snow melts and warmth pours into the Onychinus base. And alongside the sunshine is Miss Hunter, whose presence becomes a permanent fixture in the penthouse.

It has only been a year since your arrival in this world, but your life has been completely upended, you think. From being a broke, burned out college student, to a tired secretary and mother of three. 

Who were those three children, one may ask?

“Miss Secretary!” You poke your head out to see what the fuss was all about, hearing the twins snickering not too far away. The hunter stomps her way to your room, face cringed and seething in disgust. “Luke and Kieran gave me a cookie filled with toothpaste!”

“Ah — see, your first mistake there was trusting anything they gave you.”

Luke and Kieran warmed up extremely quickly to the hunter, as they did in the story. They enjoyed her presence around the base, but you couldn’t tell if it was more for her personality or the fact they had a new target for their trickery. A part of you was relieved; it meant you were no longer on their roster of victims (not that they particularly like pranking you, as you stare them down in disappointment each time). But their determination to mess with the hunter was going to send you into an early grave. 

“I didn't even know they could feed themselves, let alone bake,” She pouted, crossing her arms. “In fact, they told me you made them!”

Ah. “Well… there may be some truth to that…” Your voice descends in volume to hide your guilt, but the hunter manages to hear quite clearly. 

“You knew about it, and you didn’t tell me?” She gasps, face contorting into mock betrayal. “I can't believe you had it in you to be this… deceitful!”

In your defense, they had only asked you for baking lessons on how to make a cookie sandwich. You had no part in the actual crime. (Though, you may have turned a blind eye at them squeezing toothpaste in the frosting bag. Your patience can only go so far.)

As penance and apology, you promise to bake her actual, edible cookies in return for the monstrosity she just ingested, when you suddenly have a stroke of genius. “I wonder if they have any left.” Your face contorts into a shit-eating grin, “Don’t you think Sylus would appreciate a sweet treat right about now?”

The two of you cackle and rope the twins into it, sending Miss Hunter as the messenger. (He sees right through your ploy, but still takes a bite because she’s the one offering.)

So maybe you’re not as mature as you preach to be. However, your headaches aren’t exclusive to the humans in the penthouse. 

Mephisto's permanent return to the base was a spark of joy in the bleak few months you’ve had, as he’s released from the duty of monitoring the hunter 24/7. It surprised you how much you missed the crow, realizing you’d taken his presence as one of your constant companions for granted.

The first week after his return, he sticks to your side like glue. Displeased at the hunter’s continued presence, continuing to report about her to you. Each time he catches her with Sylus he goes to show you the footage — almost like a son tattling on his father’s misdeeds. It’s a sweet gesture; clearly he’s smarter than given credit for, enough to decipher why you’ve been so downtrodden in the recent weeks. But as much as you appreciate his concern, you’re also not a masochist.

“What is it, Mephie?” You groan, abruptly woken after three grueling hours of trying to fall asleep. You would have thrown hands had you not discovered Mephisto, flapping his wings urgently.

He pecks at your cheek, showing you a hologram of Sylus and the hunter in his room, shoulders pressed together in a close proximity you were not prepared to see. “What, you want me to do something about it?” He flaps his wings in earnest, and you promptly turn around to bury your head in the pillow.

“It's none of my business!” You stubbornly burrow yourself under the blanket as he continues to squawk, “I don't want to know about the time they spend together, okay? It’s just rubbing salt into the wound.” You groggily explain, voice muffled by the pillow.

You didn’t need Mephisto to report on them — you already knew Sylus spent all his free time with her. As recalling her memories was a long shot, he turned his efforts to slowly build up their relationship again. What were once free slots in his calendar are suddenly blocked with the simple notes of ‘Miss Hunter.’ Your work dynamic has never been more out of sync, with his adjustments to the hunter’s daytime schedule after you had originally adjusted to his nights. Gone are the nights you could find him downstairs, spending the night chatting away your fears. Now, all you find are the lights turned off and a motorcycle gone from the garage.

Your voice must have taken a sad turn as the crow whimpers, nuzzling his beak into your neck to comfort you, almost like an apology. “It's okay, I know you just wanted to help.”

You let him roost on your bedside drawers, watching as he mechanically shuts down to rest. Mephisto's presence usually helps you fall asleep but tonight, you sigh as you resign yourself to a night of overthinking.

For a while, you thought that Mephie’s grudge against the hunter was one-sided. A rebellious phase, like a son’s poor reaction to his father’s new partner. So imagine your surprise when you realized she returned the sentiment.

You’re knitting on the couch, nodding along and reacting accordingly to Mephie’s squawks and accusatory pointing of his wings to the disgruntled hunter across the room.  

“She said that? Oh, I’m so sorry you had to hear that…” You dramatically cater to the crow’s concerns, “I'll talk to her for you, don’t you worry.”

“Sylus should’ve fed him to the wolves,” The hunter pokes her tongue out at the crow, who squawks in horror. “Of all the adorable, fluffy, non-feathered pets he could’ve had —”

“Ah, ah, he’s not a pet,” You correct her to appease the bird who looks as if steam is about to leave his butt. “He’s the best reconnaissance agent we have at Onychinus. Aren’t you, Mephie?” You coo at him and he flaps his wings in agreement. 

But of all the changes the hunter’s arrival brought to your life, the most unexpected development was your friendship with her.

In hindsight, it was no surprise. She may be a hunter — cutthroat and fearless, storming into the N109 Zone, wreaking havoc in the city’s most powerful crime syndicate — but you find there’s a certain bond between all freshly graduated college students. A little burned out, a little lost in life. Your similarities run deeper than your appearances, finding common ground in interests and life experiences despite having come from two different worlds.

She turns to you as a refuge within Onychinus, and in the process, she becomes yours. 

Although you loved your newfound family, a year spent with only them had perhaps led you to become a little stir crazy. You almost forgot how it was to interact with normal people your age, as your current situation and job didn’t leave you with a lot of room to feel carefree. But the hunter steps in as a breath of fresh air, taking you along on her various escapades.

“What, leaving without me?” Sylus asks with a touch of playful offense, when the hunter arrives at the Onychinus headquarters — not for him, but for you, to his comical surprise. You can see the silent question in his eyes as they flit between the two of you, and you shrug.

“Yes, now go shoo,” The hunter flicks her wrist, motioning for him to leave as she grins and slings an arm over your shoulder. “It's just me and Miss Secretary today.” 

This had all began when the hunter had been rambling about Kitty Cards, and you had stupidly made the off-hand comment, “Oh yeah, I’ve never played that before.” 

It wasn’t a lie; the real life edition of the game would be a vastly different experience to the virtual one. But the appalled look on her face sent waves of regret coursing through you, as she immediately booked a session at her favorite cat cafe.

Of course, Sylus still manages to pull one on you as you’re promptly greeted by two bodyguards from the pool of new initiates.

Your jaw drops as you turn to him, “Excuse me, do you not trust me to go out on my own?” 

“It's not you that I don't trust,” His gaze drifts over to the hunter, who glares at him in offense. “Our dear hunter, on the other hand, has a talent for finding trouble.” 

The hunter in question scoffs, “Well, why else do you think I keep you around?” She tilts her head cheekily at him, as he rolls his eyes, breathing an affectionate sigh.

Like always, it’s a casual punch to the gut. 

His gaze travels to you (almost knowing, you think) but you brush it aside and keep the neutral expression on your face. “Let’s wrap it up, you two.” You walk forward, lightly shoving your shoulder against Sylus’s, interrupting their moment. A rare moment of pettiness from you, but you think you’re entitled to it every now and then. “Shall we go? I’d like to see the Linkon sun before nightfall.”

You spend the day in Linkon where she crushes your ass repeatedly, and you’re not even offended. You were only here to see the cats, after all. It’s the perfect duo; she’s way too competitive and you don’t care about winning at all — the best of both worlds as you share the winnings, anyway, at the badge counter.

In your small world consisting of your newfound family at Onychinus, you appreciate the new friend you’ve made. An appreciation that surpasses any of the petty jealousy you may have. Time spent with the hunter means the opportunity to be a little less mature, to be silly in a way you haven’t been in a long time. You appreciate the brief reprieve, as this world has forced you to remain at 100% — keeping you at constant guard in the wake of your transmigration. 

Alongside kitty cards, she introduces you to the pop culture in this world, something you were never given a glimpse of in the game. One afternoon, you two decide to steal a set of speakers from Sylus’s study, putting on a playlist she made after learning how little you knew of mainstream music.

You’re sitting on the floor of your room, surrounded by papers as she switches the song to a soft acoustic track. “I like this one,” you comment, making a mental note to add the artist to your own playlist. 

“You don’t know them? Huh, I guess I shouldn't be surprised since you didn’t know any of the fifteen others before this…” You laugh awkwardly as she sends you the link, murmuring a soft thanks. “Did you grow up under a rock?”

“Something like that. I grew up really far from Linkon, it’s like an entirely different world there.” It wasn’t a lie. 

She never questions you further than that, to your relief. “You know, three months ago I wouldn't have dared to step into sylus’s study unless my life was at stake,” The hunter reminisces, sprawled out on your bed. “But here we are, committing casual theft.”

“You’ll learn over time he’s not as scary as he thinks he is. Especially when it comes to you. You could — I don’t know, spill your coffee on his desk, or stage a revolt against him in Onychinus, and he wouldn’t even bat an eye.”

She rolls her eyes, but you can see the faint blush coating her cheeks. “You’re exaggerating. Honestly, I was scared shitless when I first met him. Don’t tell him that,” She stares you down, and you motion to zip your mouth closed. “But I guess he’s not that bad, the more I get to know him…” 

You smile, partly out of affection and partly out of bitterness. The hunter is so obviously smitten, and you know it’s only a matter of time before she opens her heart to him.

By all means, you should be happy for them. You should be happy that your dearest friend in this world is finally getting the love and happiness he desires, that he deserves. You promised to back out of this unspoken race and let the story continue as intended — but here and now, fiddling with the beautiful necklace given to you many moons ago, you realize you have a habit of clutching onto things for far too long.

Long after the hunter leaves, you shuffle papers and calendars around to an unnecessary degree of perfection, lingering on these thoughts. Your friends, your family, your dreams, had made up the beautiful, imperfect mess that was your life. But here, beyond the walls of this place, the sad reality was there was little reason for you to stay. Little reason for you to live.

And you wonder, when she finally takes the place you hold in Sylus’s life, in Onychinus — what will be left for you in this world? 

—————————————————————

Early April showers take over the dark skies of the N109 Zone, a soft drizzle pattering against the windows of Sylus’s main office. It's a slow day, spring taking its course as Onychinus returns to a new normal with the hunter.

Stoic and focused he may seem, but Sylus’s mind is anywhere but work, drifting to the hunter and their blossoming relationship. He’s taken any and all opportunities to spend time with her. His schedule — once filled with free nights and weekends spent cozily in the penthouse — are booked back to back in any free moment he and the hunter can spare. His text messages, typically relegated to his work, become full of silly little moments as she continues to take a larger place in his life.

It’s what he wanted, isn’t it? 

So why does he feel his heart fall every time he sees the distance that’s grown between you two?

It's the 17th of April, and despite the little time you’ve spent together, he knows you already have something planned for his birthday. You haven’t breathed a word about it, but he knows that you would refuse to let it go uncelebrated, if the twins’ hushed scheming around him isn’t enough to go by.

He rests his chin on his hand, scrutinizing you, as if he could read your mind if he tried hard enough. You type away on your computer like a machine, so focused that it takes an awfully time before your eyes drift over to him, a bit alarmed at the intensity of his staring. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason at all,” He barely holds back the smirk threatening to curl at his lips. 

He can practically see the thoughts running through your head. Is he mad? Is he planning something? Can he read my mind? Until you finally look away with a resigned sigh. 

He chuckles under his breath, thinking he’s ready for whatever you have planned, when the door swings open, revealing the hunter — who was supposedly busy with work today — on a surprise visit.

“Knock knock!” She raps her knuckles against the open door, “Good evening, Miss Secretary! Or — good morning, I guess, for the both of you?”

“Did I say you could come in?” Sylus asks with his typical drawled snark.

She scoffs, throwing a smile at you before occupying his visitor’s chair, crossing her legs and making herself comfortable. “Is that any way to greet your favorite hunter, who’s so kindly come to you since you’ve been busy all week?”

He narrows his eyes, “You want something from me.” A statement, not a question. 

She sticks her tongue out at him, having clocked her immediately before she even got a word in. “A little birdie may have told me that you own an RX–116 —”

“You’re not riding it.” The answer comes automatically, eyes mechanically returning to the paperwork he’d been previously neglecting. 

“You haven’t even let me explain why…!”

“Alright, tell me. Why should I let you take Treasure — my most cherished motorcycle — out on a reckless joyride into the N109 Zone?” He crosses his arms, patiently waiting for her answer.

“Because you’re a fun–loving soul at heart, who values the happiness of his friends?” Her tone is light, fingers crossed, only to receive his deadpan stare. She huffs, “Oh, come on. I promise I'll be careful. What if you drive? If Miss Secretary can survive it, I definitely could!”

His eyes drift over to you, and you barely glance up from your screen, deigning him with a shrug. “Sorry, she asked.” He continues to stare intently at you, a silent plea he hopes you’d understand if only you’d just look up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“…No meetings? Deadlines? Overdue paperwork? Tell me what’s on my schedule today.”

You grant him an almost knowing smile, rolling your eyes. “Since when have you cared about paperwork?” Still, you flick through the digital calendar, lazily pretending to indulge his request. “No, there’s nothing keeping you. You’re free from the clutches of work. For today,” You emphasize that last part as a subtle threat.

Still, he continues to look at you skeptically — it’s almost like he wants you to hand him more work. “I mean it, go have fun. Take a break. Since when did you care so much about skipping work?” He can almost hear you muttering, “The privileges of being a rich bastard…” as you breathe a tired sigh. 

It's true that Sylus's position affords him the privilege of passing up on the workday for his whims. Whether it be upgrading Mephisto, waiting on online auctions for vintage records, or in this case, a day out with the hunter.

It unnerves him, this side of you. Despite the stark gap in power between you, you’ve never failed to scold and banter with him, thumping him on the head more than a few times after he’d neglected the calendar. But lately, you’ve been almost… complacent with him, as if you’ve accepted something inevitable.

It's a jarring realization when he thinks about how little time he’s spent with you since the hunter’s return. Especially considering how close you had grown, how you’d spent almost every free moment with him before. A part of him knows that for one reason or another, you’ve kept your distance, and he hates it — but at the same time, the hunter was slowly opening her heart to him.

But were you really going to let him go this easily, on the eve of his birthday, when you clearly had something planned already? It was moments like these that made him wish for things to return to normal. (That made him wish to see the side of you that cared.)

“Fine,” He gives into the pleading eyes of the hunter, who cheers as he tosses her the keys. “Meet me in the garage. Careful not to go too wild, kitten.”

He shakes his head as she skips out of the room, catching one last look at you before muttering, “You two will be the death of me…” He leaves the office without looking back. 

The evening is spent racing through the outskirts of the N109 Zone, wind and rain rushing past them as Sylus takes the opportunity to show off the motor’s maximum speed. She screams, and it echoes through the empty roads. Joyously carefree, still carrying the same fire and spirit she once held in their previous lives.

But, not everything was the same. The hunter’s life was by no means easy, but she grew up in a much kinder world than the sorceress, untouched by the horrors that he and her previous iteration were irrevocably changed by. Does he even want her to remember? Would it still be love if he forced her to relive those horrors? 

His devotion to the sorceress has always been overwhelming, all-consuming. But in this life, he does not feel the same intense love, but more so a quiet affection, a desire to protect. And so, he’d rather the hunter live in peace. Never knowing the horrors of their past, even if it means that he’ll be forgotten, as well.

She urges him, “Go faster!” and he obliges with a smirk, revving up the engine to go at maximum speed. She cackles, letting go of his waist and letting her arms caress the midnight breeze. He can’t help but breathe an affectionate sigh — her dauntless, the opposite to your wariness on this very motorcycle. 

Miss Secretary. His thoughts have once again spiralled back to you, a habit that’s slipped out of his control. He's always been unwavering in his desires, but your arrival had upended his world and the foundations of what he knew about himself. And now, he no longer knows where his heart lies.

He knows it’s not fair to either of you. He feels guilty for the hunter’s oblivious nature — clueless to what almost was (what could still be) between you and him. And for you, you have done your utmost best to keep the boundaries he wasn’t strong enough to. 

He's a shameless man who’s never been afraid to take and take. But every time he sees the pain that his indecision — his choice — has caused you, he can’t help but tread carefully, wary of hurting you any more than he already has.

The clock strikes twelve, marking the beginning of April 18th. They return to a base shrouded in darkness, where they stumble around for the lights, only to be greeted by a garishly decorated living room and the twins dressed in red and black. 

“Happy birthday, boss!” The twins blow party poppers as he walks into the living room, “Didn’t expect this, did ‘ya?”

He’d been so conflicted at leaving before his birthday, when little did he know, it was all an elaborate ruse to distract him while you and the twins decorated.

“…It seems I've been deceived.” This is the first time you have ever left him truly dumbfounded.

“Surprise!” The hunter slaps him on the back, a satisfied smirk on her face. “Did you really think I was bugging you for a ride out for nothing?”

“Well, not nothing, considering you commandeered the vehicle halfway through.” She swats at him playfully in response. 

His eyes search for you, and just in time, you carefully step out of the kitchen, holding a two-tiered cake with a candle lit atop. What ensues is an off-tune rendition of happy birthday, as you step closer, careful not to extinguish the flames, “Make a wish, Sylus.” You smile. 

Since the tragic end to his life as a dragon, he’s only ever had one wish. But this year, he hesitates.

For the first time, he wishes for something else. Something new and precious. 

The flames dance in the wind before being snuffed with a single breath, smoke trailing with the promises of what’s to come.

Once again, you‘ve planned an elaborate celebration, just as you did the previous year. Something simple here at the base, but still catering to his preferences. From the tasteful red, black, and gold decorations, his favorite meals laid out on the dining table, and a pile of presents wrapped in a mishmash of patterns and ribbons.

When he takes the first bite of the cake, he lets out a hum of satisfaction, immediately noticing the gleam in the twins’ eyes.

“What, did you like it?” You smile at him cheekily, chewing through your own bite. “Luke and Kieran baked it, red velvet cheesecake with a bourbon coating.” 

The hunter scowls, still not over their previous attack on her taste buds. “Oh, so Sylus gets a fancy, artisanal cake and I get toothpaste cookies?”

Kieran grins, lightly punching her shoulder, “Don’t worry, Miss Hunter. Just wait til’ it’s your birthday.”

”Yeah! We’re more than ready to top the last one," Luke chimes in, a sinister promise no one wants to hear.

Sylus's gaze follows the hunter throughout the night. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to closure, he thinks, seeing her slot into his close circle (family) like a perfect puzzle piece, celebrating a day that never mattered to him until they made it matter. In their previous life, they had never been afforded the time or peace to celebrate these mundane milestones.

But despite the jovial atmosphere, his eyes can’t stray from your strange mood. You do a good job of pretending that everything is alright, going about the motions and matching the merry of the occasion. But though you may be able to fool others, you can’t fool him. After the party has come to an end, he doesn’t leave your side — determined to know what’s been bothering you. 

“Hey, no cleaning for the birthday celebrant!” You lightly shoo him away with the broom as he tries to take over cleaning the living room.

“Oh? I say the birthday celebrant gets to decide that for himself,” He easily swipes the broom from your hands, and you huff, relegated to picking up the wrapping paper strewn about the floor.

“Stubborn bastard,” You mutter under your breath. 

“A little louder, dear. I couldn't hear you.” You scowl at him and he laughs, “I can't let you do all the work, no? What kind of boss would I be, then? Tsk, if only you had just left it to the cleaners like I told you to.”

Still, you resolve to finish cleaning. It’s a bit comical seeing him with a broom and dustpan, and on his birthday, of all days. Still, you assert that it would be too rude to leave all this work for the cleaners’ shift come morning. With the two of you working at it, by the time the hour’s up you wouldn’t have been able to tell a celebration occurred.

“Let's go to the rooftop,” Sylus suggests, after taking out the trash. “I feel like taking a breath of fresh air.”

The two of you walk up the familiar staircase to the rooftop, the highest point in the N109 Zone, where you’ve spent many nights deprived of sleep and spilling your deepest fears and nightmares. 

“Watch your head.”

“What are you— ow!” You bump your head on a new exit sign that hadn’t been there the last time you came.

He laughs breathily, rubbing your forehead with his thumb after he perfectly ducks under the sign. “I did warn you.” 

“It feels like forever since we’ve been up here.”

“It's also been quite a while since I’ve seen you.”

You laugh shakily, “What are you talking about? We’re in the office every day…”

“Don’t act like you don’t understand, it’s unbecoming of your intelligence,” He brushes a stray hair from your face.

“Well, what can I say? We’ve all been so busy lately… But you seem happy, though.” He remains silent, so you continue, “You’ve waited so long to reunite with her. I've never believed in soulmates or anything like that, but for you two, I just might. I’m happy for you,” A timid smile paints your face, and he can’t tell if it’s out of bitterness or soft appreciation. 

He doesn’t know how to feel, receiving your approval — feigned as it may be. “If that's so, do you believe it for yourself?” You look at him strangely. “Do you think you could have a soulmate?”

The question seems to weigh heavily on your mind as you look away, dangling your feet aimlessly, “Maybe so… But I like to think that love is a choice. Something that’s earned, built up over time. That's the kind of love that I want, at least.”

His heart has been conflicted for so long — but all of a sudden, you feel unreachable, slipping from his grasp into a territory uncharted. (All of a sudden, he wants to give you everything you wish for.)

“It's been a while since we’ve talked like this. It’s nice being able to spend time with you again.” You stand up, brushing non-existent dirt off your thighs. “But I better head to bed.” 

It’s a lie, you both know you’ll spend the night tossing and turning into the hours of the night; so he tries to push at the walls you’ve put up. “Come on, dear. It's my birthday. Just grace me with your presence for a few more minutes…”

He tries not to sound desperate, but all he wants to do is reverse time, to return to a period where you weren’t wary of spending time with him. He'd been spoiled by the affection and friendship you once offered so freely, and now he couldn’t bear this distance you stubbornly held in place. 

He reaches to grab your hand, but you pull yours away. 

You hesitate before turning around, “I'm sorry, Sylus. But maybe another night.” Your voice is soft as you say good night, his eyes stuck on the image of you walking further away until you disappear from sight. 

He wants so badly to pull you back, yearns to grab your hand once again, to feel the warmth of your palm against his. But he knows he has no right to. The presence of the hunter a few doors over says it all, says his choice. He can’t bear to hurt you any more than he already has. But at the same time, he can’t bear to lose you.

So instead, he watches you walk away, knowing that he’s chosen the hunter, his soulmate. But a part of his heart continues to yell at him, telling him he’s making a grave mistake. 

—————————————————————

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the overstimulating atmosphere of the underground ring. The flashing lights, the all-consuming noise in the hours before a match starts. It's been months since you’ve been here, but it’s clear that anticipation runs high in the crowds, with this being Sylus's first game since last year’s loss. 

You sniffle, holding back a sneeze as you approach the ring with a bouquet of flowers, waiting patiently for Sylus to break from his pre-game focus as the coach gives him a last minute pep talk.

His eyes eventually drift over to you as he takes a sip of water, “Oh? Look who showed up." He smirks at you, arms leaning against the barrier, “And here I thought you’d be a no-show after last year’s disappointment.”

“What can I say? It’s a crime to pass up on an easy bet.” 

“I'm touched by your faith in me,” Unlike his words, his tone is deadpan.  

You mockingly scoff, “Who said I placed my bets on you?” You say this, but both of you know who you’re rooting for. “I just thought I might as well wish you good luck, considering I used my PTO on this.”

“Trust me, dear.” His smirk is one of confidence, as he leans past the barrier, face inching towards yours. “By the end of the night, there’ll be a new champion reigning this ring.”

A sudden screech comes from behind — some sort of ongoing venue prep — and your face scrunches up, another headache coursing through you. 

“Are you okay?” His brows furrow as he calls your name, concerned at the deep circles under your eyes, the pale sheen to your face. “Maybe you should sit down. You don’t look well.”

“I'll be fine,” You wave him off, “It’s just a headache. I can champ through it.” 

“But is it wise for you to stand in these crowds?” He removes his glove, pressing a hand against your forehead. “Go sit down in the locker room, they’ll be airing the match inside. I don't need you in the stands to know you’re supporting me.” 

The increasing dizziness you feel is the only reason why you nod, picking up your things and doing as told without so much as a fight. His eyes follow your sluggish form until you make it past his sight, settling inside the rundown locker room to watch alongside other competitors and coaches.

Even though you’ve been continuously sneezing and feel like knocking out, you’re on your toes the entire match, even from the low quality screen delegated to the locker room. The crowd is just as enthusiastic, roaring for his revenge match. You know nothing about boxing, but even you can tell from the first few minutes alone that he’s doing well, performing better than he ever was as the cheers of the crowd pound through to the walls of this secluded room. The camera shifts as he overtakes his opponent — and that’s when you see it, a glimpse of the hunter cheering at the front row. 

You already expected her presence, was anticipating to sit by her side as the both of you cheered Sylus on. But a part of you feels sick, lightheaded, progressively dizzier as the match continues. Not just because of the hunter’s arrival, or the anxiety of seeing Sylus getting socked in the face — you realize as you feel the bile rising up your throat. 

The match ends as you walk out of the bathroom, contents of your stomach flushed down the toilet. You missed the final blow, the crowning moment, the television having switched to an interview. His voice fills the room, the audio muffled and crackly, “Someone came all the way here to watch me. Said she didn’t want to see me lose.” 

You recognize that look of adoration, reserved only for the hunter. And once again, you feel your stomach lurch. 

It's a weak moment for you — you want to stay, to cheer him on as his friend and supporter (the only things you were and would ever be to him). But it was too much for you, seeing her take the place that maybe, in another life, could have been yours.

You guiltily leave the bouquet in the locker rooms, slipping away easily into the swarm of crowds leaving the venue. You pass by the ring as you make your way to the exit, seeing him at the edge of the barricade, swarmed by reporters.

In the ring, he shines like a star far out of your reach.

Was this penance for your pride? For believing you could take the spot of someone who was long destined to be by his side? The last image you see is of his arm wrapped around her waist, lips pressed to her forehead — his attention, his gravity, tethered to her. 

You leave the underground stadium guilt-free, feeling a little silly for having doubts about your departure affecting him. You realize that no matter what you do, he’ll be fine.

He has the hunter now.

—————————————————————

The moment he steps out of the ring, lights flashing and reporters crowding to get his interview — the first thing he sees is the hunter, standing front row in the bleachers, cheering him on with her fist in the air. His arm stays around her waist as they celebrate his win, answering nosy interviewers and being crowned with the champion’s ring.

He should be filled with nothing but happiness, satisfaction. But right now, all he could think of was finding you.

He fiddles with the champion’s ring, a nervous tic he’d never dare show to the naked eye as he makes his way to the locker room, where he finds an intricate bouquet of flowers and a congratulatory note, written in your familiar penmanship. 

It seems his greed had become far too overwhelming. 

Faced with all his wishes coming true, he still yearns for more. Everything he ever wanted was coming together, but none of it felt right — not with your absence creating a gaping void in a picture perfect image. 

Disheartened by your absence, the dim mood follows him as he returns to a quiet home. He carefully steps inside, your snores filling the space as he finds you sprawled on the living room couch, still dressed in your outside clothes, skin dull and face tightened in discomfort. 

He lifts you up, beginning the trek to your bedroom to let you sleep away the rest of the night, only for you to stir awake in his arms. “Sylus?” You peek at him through bleary eyes, “You’re home…”

He places the back of his hand against your forehead, “You’re burning up. Did you take any medicine before falling asleep?” 

“I'm sorry I couldn’t stay for the match…” In your drowsy state, you don’t hear his question, instead nuzzling your head into his chest. He savors the feeling of your warmth. “Did you get my flowers?”

“I did. They were a beautiful choice.”

“That's good. You deserve only the best, after all.” Your voice is a little breathy, soft and tender in ways you never reveal to him anymore — and he couldn’t help but be a little lovestruck. 

“You know just how to flatter me, don’t you?” He lays you down gently, tucking the covers over your form, as he musters the courage to follow through with his thoughts. “But since you brought me flowers, I should give something in thanks.” 

He slides the champion’s ring off his finger, delicately placing it in your palm, closing your fingers over it. “I believe this should be yours.”

“Sylus, what is this?” Your face is still unnaturally pale, but you seem more lucid now, staring at the ring with an unreadable expression on your face.

“There's only one reason I left as a champion today, and she’s standing right in front of me.” His eyes are glued intently to yours, water still streaking from his hair after the quick shower he took before leaving. “Last year’s match was a blow to my pride, I'll admit. But how could I ever stay down with you by my side?”

It’s rare for him to display his fondness on a silver platter — not painted in wit or banter, but with the clarity of an open window into his heart. But something about you wills him to take steps he never has before.

You stay silent for an unnerving amount of time, turning away from him, overwhelmed by the depth of his gaze. Your face contorts into a fractured smile, “I think we both know who you should really give this to.

He stares at the ring, refusing to take it from your outstretched hand. a strained laugh leaves his lips. He gently grabs your chin, forcing you to look at him once again, “You won’t even accept gifts from me, now? How much will you pull away from me before you’re satisfied?” 

“I can't accept this, and you know why.”

He knows. Just like he knows why you stray from his touch, why you avoid his gaze. He knows, but he refuses to accept it. 

“I went into this match for you. I won it for you, not the hunter.” A frantic sort of grief fills his features, imploring you to open your heart to him. “So why is it that you keep telling me to run to her? What makes you believe you’re undeserving?” 

“Because it shouldn’t be me. I just—” The words fail to form on your tongue, twisting and turning until the intention is lost. “Please, sylus. I can't do this right now.” 

“I didn't think your cowardice was stronger than our friendship.” 

You come to an abrupt still, your eyes glazing over in stifled shock. “Well, I'm sorry to have disappointed you.” 

Regret immediately courses through him as he realizes the harshness of his words, and the guardedness of your tone. He hates causing you hurt or pain, but he can no longer bear to ignore the distance that's grown between you. (But does he even have the right to confront you about it? When he knows his actions are the root cause.) 

“We can't hide from this forever, so why won’t you just talk to me?” He's just about ready to beg for you to look at him again, to talk to him again, without the inhibitions that separate you now. 

You take a deep breath, a hundred thoughts running through your mind before you settle on simple words, “Because things can’t go back to normal, and I don't know if they ever will.” You turn around, effectively ending the conversation and drawing that dreaded line. “I'd like to be alone now, please.” 

It’s not irreparable; at least, you don’t think so. But regardless of the place the hunter now holds in your life, you had crossed a turning point in your relationship, one that made it impossible to turn back. This was the price of his choice; he couldn’t have his cake and eat it, too.

Despite how much he wants to confront you, more than anything he wants to respect the boundaries you’ve set in place. And so, Sylus is left to stew in his thoughts in the living room, fiddling with the ring and wondering why he wouldn’t just give the ring to the hunter. Why he caused all of this mess. (He knows exactly why.)

The bond he had with the hunter transcended lifetimes, giving his soul a first taste of human connection and love. He grasped at the seams of that bond, holding on for dear life and desperately seeking the peace they were never afforded. But your arrival broke the monotony of his days, and in the process, treated him to that connection, that genuine acceptance and care so freely. You easily slotted into his life, and now that you were trying to walk away — he couldn’t just bear to let you go.

He may have fallen in love with the sorceress in their previous life, but now, it was time to face his current reality. 

In this world, his heart had chosen you. 

—————————————————————

You feel like you're being replaced, being pushed out of the picture you were never meant to be captured in.

For the longest time, you’ve felt the petty urge to hate the hunter. To pick out her flaws and shortcomings to make yourself feel better. But that wouldn’t be fair to her, who’s done nothing but unknowingly capture Sylus's heart. And it would only fan the flames of bitterness and hurt that were already burning inside you.

You stomp at the petty jealousy taking root in your heart — because what right do you have to feel that way? What right do you have to mourn a love that was never yours to begin with? 

You feel rather foolish. You thought you knew what his affection felt like, but it was nothing compared to seeing his devotion. You never believed in soulmates — but how could you deny the cosmic connection before your very eyes? Like a planet and its moon, they orbit each other — his harsh edges softening in her presence.

Sylus gave you hope for a future in this world. But to him, you must be just one of many, a buffer while he waits for his lover to finally come along in this life. He was someone who had never known peace, never known the warmth of love before he met her. In the grand scheme of things, what was your rust to her gold? 

These fantasies have become fatal, cutting open old wounds and deeply hidden thoughts. Never have you felt so untethered. No place where you belonged, no place to call home, no connection that was meant to be truly yours. Your world had been shrouded in static in the wake of losing your loved ones, life becoming grainy and distant in your grief. The loneliness had been dampened by new connections, by a blossoming love, but was now coming back in full force as you watch the image of how it should be, without you.

You were never meant to be here. 

(Thus, it was only right to return things to how they should be.)

—————————————————————

Thunder rolls in, casting gloomy skies over the N109 Zone. it’s one of those days where you can’t muster up the energy to do anything but curl up on the couch with a blanket, paperwork left forgotten on the coffee table, watching raindrops dart against the tall windows overlooking the city. 

The twins are similarly sprawled across the living room floor. With Sylus and Mephisto out on a mission, it’s just the three of you in the penthouse, spending the last of the spring showers working by the warmth of the fireplace, before humid summer storms take over. 

The dreary atmosphere did nothing to quell the persistent grief that weighed heavily in your chest. Not even the comforting presence of Luke and Kieran could muster a smile on your face, these days. 

Your eyelids start to flutter, the movie and the twins’ chatter becoming hazy as you drift into slumber, where once again, you dream of home.

You find yourself thinking about home much more, nowadays. You miss the sun, you miss the food, the warmth of company (the lack of doubt of your belongingness). But as always, you wake up to the cars and gunshots typical of the N109 Zone, the rain having slowed to a soft drizzle, pattering against the window. 

You spend a little while with your eyes closed, savoring the taste of home only a dream can capture, a feeling that slips through your fingers before you can truly grasp it. And once again, you wish for a clue, a hint, an answer to a way back home. 

Little did you know how soon this wish would be granted.

You stretch your arms out, coming to a slow rise from the couch, remembering the pile of paperwork that awaited you on the coffee table. You sigh as you see the other half; it seems the twins hadn’t gotten much done either, their papers getting mixed up with yours during your short nap. you take quick, mindless glances at the papers — your events and supply documentation, the twins’ mission reports — as you sort through them. 

One in particular slides out from the pile, and you pick it up, intending to place it on their side of the table — only to stop in your tracks, catching a single phrase. Dimensional travel. 

You shouldn’t be snooping. As Sylus's secretary, you’re already privy to most of the ongoings in Onychinus. You know that if something’s been kept from you, it’s for a reason. But as your mind flits over all the dead ends you’ve run into in your search to go home, you think — what’s the harm in taking a look?

Your blood stills. 

What greets you is the twins’ hasty scrawl, recounting their findings as they led a reconnaissance mission at an EVER lab on the outskirts of the N109 Zone. Test subjects who were found in public, on the brink of death. Who spoke of “other worlds.” Unfortunate individuals who were found somewhere more public, deemed a nutcase, and left vulnerable to the hands of EVER. In Kieran’s more formal penmanship are the words, “These findings are supported by the classified dimensional travel studies at Prestara University…”

And when you see the date of the mission — it’s from the previous year.

Why did no one tell you about this? 

All of you were smart enough to connect the dots. Near-death experiences, tales of other worlds. Here you were, searching on what seemed to be a fool’s errand, when the people you slept under the same roof with held the very answers you’d been so desperately seeking.

An eerie feeling settles over you (you don’t want to name it as betrayal) as you look over the papers, reading them over and over, thinking there’s no way this had been just out of reach, all these months.

On the dot, the twins return to the living room with bags of snacks in their arms, Luke with his typical cheer as Kieran stills, seeing the papers in your hand. “Miss Secretary, you’re finally awake. Do you want a snack —” 

“What is this?” You cut him off, uncharacteristically stoic as you raise up the stapled reports, still reeling from shock at the words you’ve just read. “Your mission reports… These are from a year ago. Why didn’t I know about this? 

The two worriedly look at each other in silent communication, before you ask again, fed up with the lies and secrecy. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“Luke, she read the reports. She knows.”

“But the boss said — Fine. But don’t blame me when this ends badly.” He sighs before giving in, turning to look you in the eye. “I think it’s better if we show you. But… Please don’t be mad at the boss.” 

“No  more than you already are,” Kieran adds, and you look at him skeptically. “We know you two are fighting. It’s been torture seeing you guys mope! The boss has been burying everyone in work and you… You’ve been a shell of yourself.”

You open your mouth, ready to spout excuses, but he interrupts you. “Don’t deny it, we can see it for ourselves. Especially with the way the boss has been grovelling.” 

“Sylus has not been grovelling. He has better things to do with his time.” You roll your eyes, but they continue to stare at you in doubt, until you sigh and let up.

“Alright. so we may have had a… slight disagreement. But really, I've just been in a funk. A little homesick, and a little actually sick. That's all. But you know what will help me?” You raise up the reports once again, flipping to the research page. “Show me these case studies. Show me everything there is to know about this.” 

“Well, we tried.” Kieran lets out a tired exhale, “If knowing this will help you, then we’ll do it.”

The twins lead you into their wing of the penthouse, a territory you never dared to venture unless it was dire circumstances— which it very well feels like it is now.

“Welcome to our little abode!” Luke cheers as he swings the doors open. 

“Oh, how… charming.” 

You tiptoe around the communal living area, unable to distinguish what is a weapon for Onychinus and a personal invention they’ve made for an elaborate prank. Frankly, it’s a mess. Apparently teenage boys are the same type of disgusting in any universe, you cringe as you find a smelly article of clothing on his desk that's definitely overdue for a wash. Only the promise of answers holds back your urge to hand these kids a broom and force them to clean.

“Over here’s my desk. Go wild, I guess. I'll be in the other room if you need anything.” 

Your heart races as you’re left to your own devices, inputting the related mission code — and there it is. A wealth of information answering the questions you’ve had. 

You skim over the articles, all from the same research team, studying the phenomenon of dimensional travelers, as they’ve so aptly put it, and their possible connection to the Deepspace Tunnel.

But the most damning implication of them all, was that there was a way for you to return home. The researchers are positive they’re close to a breakthrough, they write, as they cite the commonalities between these travelers. If a close encounter with death is what brought them all here, then it only makes sense it can bring them back. 

But this is where the trail ends. The last article ends with the researchers discussing potential experimentation — the risks of being lost in the unknown boundary between worlds, ripped to shreds by the force of gravity, or better yet — just dying. With it, your hope dims. 

But it’s something. Nothing concrete, but enough to prove you weren’t crazy. Enough to have hope. Enough to try.

But the question remains… how could this have possibly slipped past you? You’ve researched every corner of info available to you in the Onychinus database. 

As Sylus's secretary, you’re granted the privileges to access almost everything in Onychinus, including the information databases which contain a wealth of information from various sources (legally and illegally obtained, many inaccessible to the public yet). And when you check the status of the articles — you see that your access has been blacklisted.

As it was, there was only one person in Onychinus with the power to do this. 

“Sylus put you up to this, didn’t he?” When your eyes turn to Luke in question, he only nods grimly in confirmation. 

“The boss asked us to keep it from you,” He almost looks like a sad puppy wagging his tail, trying to appease your increasingly irate mood. “He was only worried about what you might do if you found out about this.” 

“He should’ve worried about what I’d do if you kept this from me.” You spat bitterly, and immediately, guilt coils through you for misplacing this anger on Luke. The twins might have been in on it, but despite all their mischief, they would never have had the heart to lie to you. No, this was all Sylus's doing.

You walk away, as overwhelming waves of betrayal course through you. You don’t want to make assumptions, but there is no other possible truth. It’s almost uncharacteristic of him, you think. He's always supported whatever you wanted to do. So why would he do this now? 

Why hide the answers that would lead you back home? 

And if he hid this from you, what else could he be hiding? 

These thoughts continue to plague you into the late hours of the night. Hours of tossing and turning in the sheets, before giving up on slumber entirely. Before, you would tiptoe in the marbled halls in search of laughter and company. But things were no longer the same. Now, you lock yourself in silence, refusing to bare any more of your heart.

But there still comes some nights such as now, when you can’t stifle the dark creeping in. Like a sheep heading into the wolves’ den, you tiptoe out of your bedroom, making your way to the kitchen where you cope as you always have: by baking. 

As you pull out the ingredients, Sylus eventually comes strolling in, as if he had a sixth sense to your presence. 

“Can’t sleep again?” He asks groggily. Hair mussed and robe crumpled, it was clear he had already been in bed. His tone is careful, still tiptoeing around you after the mess of a conversation you last had after the match.

You nod tiredly, “Too much to think about.” You’re being uncharacteristically cold to him, not even turning around or looking at him in acknowledgement. But if he notices, he doesn’t show it. 

All you want is a moment alone. But already, he’s coming far too close to you — invading your space like he’s entitled to it, when all you want is to be as far away from him as possible. 

“Let me help you.” He says, grabbing the bowl from behind you and rolling a whisk in his other hand. “It'll just be like old times, don’t you think? Miss Baker, with her apprentice running the ovens.” 

You can’t help the anger simmering beneath you as you slam the cupboards closed, alarming him. Can you not get one moment of peace in this fucking household? “You know what? I think I'll just go to bed, actually.”

He lets out a breath of frustration. "Alright, it’s clear that there’s a problem here.” He grabs your hand to stop you from leaving, only for you to rip it from his grasp. He steps back, “I admit that I said some hurtful things before, and I'd like to apologize properly. But can we sit down and talk about this like civilized people?”

You know it’s wrong to lash out like this, but this betrayal had you reeling and acting out impulsively. A crash-out long in the works, tipped over by your recent revelation. “Always one to ask forgiveness rather than permission, aren’t you?”

“What?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, utterly confused. “I don't know why you continually insist on shutting me out — but I assure you, nothing productive will come out of this.” 

A bitter laugh escapes you, “Well, I don’t know why you insist on lying to me. But I'm not the one asking questions here.”

“What are you talking about?” His blood runs cold, gaze steely as he begins to tread carefully through this volley of words. 

“Did you think I'd never find out about the information you hid from me? That you ordered Luke and Kieran to lie to me about? How much have you hidden from me?” You seethe, the words spilling out of you like an overflowing kettle. 

His silence says it all. 

“Gosh, I guess it figures.” You don’t know whether to laugh in irony or cry in defeat. “The one person I trusted the most turned out to be a lying bastard… I don't know why I expected any better from you.” 

Sometimes you forget the person Sylus truly is, beyond the softness he’s shown to you in confidence. He may be flowing with unspoken affection for those he cares for, but in the end, he was still a criminal. The leader of the world’s most notorious crime syndicate, gifted in the art of deceit.  

But despite this, Sylus was still the person who took you in when you had nowhere else to go. The one person you trusted more than anyone in this world. Although his blossoming relationship with the hunter sprouted thorns over your friendship, you thought that you’d at least have total honesty. 

But your expectations crumble into disappointment. 

Sylus treats this exchange flippantly, at first, trying to stave off a fight he doesn’t want to have. But you’re so frustrated, you can’t even look him in the eye. Though his face gives away nothing, a storm was brewing inside as the consequences of his actions dawned on him.

And so, he decides to tell you the truth. 

He whispers your name carefully, like an apology in itself. “I'm sorry I lied to you. It was never my intention to deceive you, or to hold you back from finding answers — but I know I've hurt you nonetheless. But please, let’s not fight about this. Let me explain myself, first.”

You turn to him, waiting for an answer that will resolve the hurt in your heart. 

He doesn't know where to begin, so he starts with an explanation. 

When you first arrived, Sylus had done the research. Tried to find a way to send you — this anomaly who’d landed in his backyard — back to where she belonged. But all he could find were dead ends. As far as he knew, there was no way to send you back. You, this stranger, who he wanted out of his life. (Oh, how the thought hurts him now.)

Almost a year later, when the dimensional travel research came in — he immediately marked it as classified. A spur of the moment decision, where he blocked off your access to these files in fear of you discovering them. He excuses it as the danger, the potential recklessness that might possess you in the face of this revelation.

But the truth was: you were no longer just a stranger, you were Miss Secretary. A core part of his life, regardless of the short time you’d been here. Maybe if he was less in-deep, if the reality of you slipping from his grasp wasn’t so tangible, he wouldn’t have resorted to deceit.  But as it was, there was no way he was letting you go now. 

After all, the fear of lying to you was nothing compared to the fear of losing you forever. (But now, he may just lose you because of it.)

His explanations ring through your head, but all you hear are excuses. You fire back, words slow and tense like a string stretched thin. “You think you’re always right, but you’re not. That's not an excuse to withhold this from me. Living in the N109 Zone is a danger in itself, so what’s so different about this?” 

He scoffs, “The difference is that here, you are by my side. Do you think I can't protect you?”

“It's not your responsibility to protect me. In fact, I've long overstayed my welcome here.”

“Says who?” His eyes stare intently into yours, as he opens his arms, “Look around, dear. The only person who wants you to leave is you.”

He shakes his head, frustrated, “Do you even understand what could happen to you if you pursue this path? This not only blurs the boundary between our worlds, but the boundary between life and death. You could die before ever seeing a glimpse of your old world,” A frantic panic shadows his eyes as he moves forward, shaking you by the shoulders, almost begging you not to do this.

“At least I'd finally have some peace!” You spat out like a bullet that’s been lodged in your chest, a truth so hard to bear. Every day in this world has been an uphill battle, and no connection — whether familial or romantic — could make up for everything you had lost, or the closure you had seeked.

“You don’t mean that.” He murmurs in disbelief, the broken look on his face enough to have your shoulders slumped in guilt.

He tries — you know he does — to close the distance that you have placed. But a sadistic part of you likes to see him hurt, likes to see him struggle to repair what he unintentionally broke. But the other part of you just wants to spare yourself from any more hurt. 

You’ve never been the type to cling to your pride, but not even you can acquiesce to this when you feel so wronged.

“Do you even understand what this information means to me?” Your voice trembles in desperation, “You don’t know what it’s like to lose everything. I cared about my life. I had dreams, I had plans! My family and friends, they all probably think I’m missing or dead — when I'm just here, trying to get back to them. Yet you have the audacity to pretend like you did this for my sake?”

To him, your arrival was a miracle. Another surprise fate had thrown his way, something he was determined not to let slip from his grasp this time around.

But to you, your arrival in this world was your greatest tragedy.

In spite of it all, he puts his foot down, refusing to put your life on the line. “No, this is where I draw the line. You will not be pursuing this — this death wish, and that’s final.” He doesn’t realize how tightly he’s gripped your shoulders until he steps back from the sheer betrayal in your eyes. 

For the first time, you look at him as if he were no more than a stranger. Like you didn’t know him, hadn’t held him in your arms in his lowest moments. He could handle the hunter’s anger and distrust, your distance and aloofness. But your fear? It breaks him. 

Still, he swallows this heartbreak in favor of your safety. “Ignore me, hate me — I'm willing to put up with all of it so long as you don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Well, what fucking choice do I have when you control everything in this goddamned place?” You close your eyes and laugh bitterly, whispering, “I guess I never knew you as well as I thought I did.”

You walk away, and he knows better than to chase you. 

All this time, you had felt guilty for hurting him with your distance, for being an obstacle in the space that was meant for the hunter. Meanwhile, he had been the one barricading you from going back. But why? You cannot comprehend as to why he would be selfish enough to try and keep you here, not when he has everything he’s ever wanted.

Your thoughts continue to spiral as you return to your room– and for the first time, you feel more peace in the silence than in his company.

—————————————————————

He sits in the kitchen until early noon, stewing in disappointment and anger towards himself. 

Sylus is hailed for his ability to read people. His target’s desires, his enemy’s weaknesses, his loved ones’ needs. Yet when it comes to you, he finds himself lost at sea, in conflict with himself in a way he hasn’t been since he was unused to the world and its dangers. 

For the past millennia, he’d had a clear focus, a clear goal — until you strolled in and completely upended his world and everything he thought he knew. 

And what’s worse? He would let you do it as many times as you wanted. 

He knows this won’t be resolved so easily. Both of you are the type whose true feelings cannot be encapsulated by mere words. And when the storm inevitably rolls in, he’s afraid of what might be lost in the collateral. Because now, he was far too gone. 

Losing the sorceress had nearly broken him once, sent him on a search that had clouded his realization of the place you’d taken in his heart. The realization that he couldn’t bear to live without those mundane moments with you.

He knows, here and now, that he needs to fix this. Right his wrongs, clear things with the hunter, and maybe beg at your feet for you to look at him kindly again, after all he’s done to push you away. Before it's too late and he lets love slip from his grasp once again. 

—————————————————————

The ballroom is lit under the warm glow of the numerous chandeliers, casting light over your stone cold face. The opulent celebration — a business partner’s 40th wedding anniversary — was a complete juxtaposition to the storm raging inside you, uncaring to be approachable as you swirl your wine. 

In a twist of cruel irony, another event had delegated Sylus to bring a partner for the evening.

“We'll be leaving at 8 o’clock. Use my card for the dress — and treat yourself, while you’re at it.” He informed you, placing one of his cards on your desk along with the invitation. You raised an eyebrow in skepticism, he never spared time for frivolous events such as anniversaries, especially for people he barely knew.

“What, the hunter wasn’t free this time around?” You can’t help but ask, the snark evident in your tone.

He sighs and walks away, not even deigning that with a response. “Don’t be late.”

You shove the invite into a drawer, fully intent on ditching him. But alas — he added it to the calendar himself.

You were expecting him to hand you another half-hearted apology, to add to the growing pile that was already accumulating. Apology flowers left at your desk, paperwork submitted on time, deliveries of chocolates and your favorite food at the office, as his eyes suspiciously don’t meet yours. 

“If you think you can bribe me with material things, then you don’t know me very well,” You bitterly threw these words at him then, before clocking out for the day. But Sylus was never one to give up easily. 

Throughout the night, you feel the constant prickle of eyes on your back. At first, you assume it’s because of past events, people’s curiosity towards the secretary Sylus was so quick to defend. Your insecurity has you turning around each time — only to meet your employer’s gaze across the room, his eyes lingering on you even with the conversation in front of him. You scoff and look away.

Eventually, he approaches you with your coat in hand, “I believe it’s time to take our leave.”

“So early?” You reply, your words short and cutting when it's necessary to speak. 

“This night has already proven to be a disappointment. No reason to waste any more of our time.”

“I'll call for the driver then,” You’re about to dial when he plucks your phone out of your hand. 

“No need, I've already given him the night off. I'll be the one driving us home.” You squawk in indignance. Once again, this man has managed to corner you into a situation where you can’t escape him. “But, dinner first, shall we?” He extends a hand, which you resolutely walk past.

This seething ignorance follows him the whole way to the restaurant, into the dimly lit private room where the two of you are seated. Had it been any other occasion, you would’ve taken the time to appreciate the florals adorning the tables, the band playing jazz in the corner, and the delicious food. But your anger clouds your enjoyment, as you channel your frustrations into blindly ordering the most expensive items on the menu. 

It isn’t until you’re about halfway through the meal and down one bottle of wine when he finally gets you to speak up, “You can’t stay mad at me forever, darling.”

You take a heavy breath through your nose, “Maybe not, but I can certainly try.” You take another sip of your wine, burying your hurt and sorrow into another bottle. 

“You should realize that I'll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.” 

“You broke my trust. You lied by omission, letting me continue on a wild goose chase when you were withholding the answers. Pretty words and extravagant gifts aren’t enough to earn my trust again.”

He gently reaches for your hand, threading his fingers through yours. “I know that, and I'm willing to do it all to earn your forgiveness. Not only for my deception, but all your hurts that have gone unnoticed.”

It’s too much, your chest feels too heavy with all that’s bearing down on you. Your voice takes a shaky note, “Sylus, all I want is to go home. That’s it.”

You put up the boundaries he never had the heart to, kept your heart at bay for both of your sakes. But now, he wants to pry open your walls, to reveal the fears that plague you at night.  

“I know, dear. I know. And if that’s what you truly want, then I promise to do everything in my power to help you —- so long as it doesn’t result in you getting hurt.” He looks into your eyes, grasping your hand tightly, “All I want is for you to feel safe in confiding in me again — to share your worries, your fears, as you once did. Allow me to carry the weight of your grief with you.”

He knows how much your arrival in this world hurt you, and he carries the guilt of being selfish enough to keep you here despite that.

“I can't anymore. It hurts too much to confide in you, to have a taste of what I know I'll never have. What we’ll never be.” You don’t know what possesses you to admit this yearning. Maybe the intoxication from the wine. Maybe his pleading eyes, or his sweet talk, saying all the right words you’ve wanted to hear for the longest time. But you don’t have any fight left in you to keep your distance. 

“What you can’t have? Darling, I would lay the world at your feet, if that was your wish,” He strokes your cheek with an intimacy surpassing friendship — but you haven’t been just friends in a while, have you? 

Maybe you both drank a little too much, scooted a little too close in the booth, got too caught up in each other's presence (something you've both been starved of for a while). You don’t know who moved first — but one of you ends up breaking. 

You share a starved kiss, hidden under the privacy of dim lights. All at once, the chatter of the restaurant and the rushing of cars dissipate, and all that's left in this universe is you and him and cosmic dust, orbiting around each other.

He explores your mouth, brows furrowed, hands gripping your waist and pulling you to his lap — as if he could meld the two of you by the flesh. It’s like a taste of heaven on your lips, tasting what you had yearned for, denied yourself for so long.

And for a moment you think: what was stopping you from being together? What was so wrong with this connection — so powerful that it wracked your body with shivers and tethered your soul to his presence? 

And then you remember: the hunter.

The reality of what's happening dawns on you, your eyes widening mid-kiss as you abruptly push him away, leaving him stunned; his tie crooked, lipstick staining the corner of his lips. 

Your hands tremble, still hazy from that searing kiss as you try to hold back the tears welling at your eyes, “Sylus —” You choke on your tears, unable to form the words. 

He grasps your face, breathing your name, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

“Sylus, oh god, what did we just do? I — fuck, what about the hunter?”

You run outside the private room, the voices of the restaurant and servers fading in the distance as you hastily escape from the implications of what you’ve just done. You try to hail a taxi when he catches up to you, calling your name.

He may be in front of you but all you see is the hunter, her face riddled with betrayal and hurt. Unlabeled as their relationship may be, she’s just spent the past few weeks opening her heart to someone only for it to be betrayed. By a new friend, at that.

You don’t know what possessed you to kiss him back, to deepen it and lose yourself in his lips. Love struck your head, ridding you of logic. Made you give in to the sin of yearning for something that isn’t yours. And now, you were facing the guilty consequences. 

“Sylus, we’ve done enough. Please, let’s just forget that any of this ever happened —-”

You’re cut off by his hollow laugh, his chin tilting down for his eyes to stare directly into yours. “You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

“This is gonna ruin everything you’ve wished for, don’t you see?” You’re desperate for him to see the wrongdoing in your actions. 

“No, it’s you who doesn’t see what’s in front of you.” He grasps your wrist, pressing it to his chest, gentle in a way that doesn’t match the fire in his eyes. “Do you feel this heart? It races in your presence, melts at your touch — and if you disappeared? Well, it would simply stop beating.”

His other hand rests on your clavicle, fiddling with the necklace that has remained on your neck since the night of your birthday. He's a man who never says please, but for you he’ll get on his knees and plead.

His words, such heartfelt words that want to make you give in to all of his wishes are one thing. But his actions are another. You’ve witnessed firsthand the way he looks at her, melts in her presence. And you’re not ignorant to how she feels for him now, once heated frustration turning into the adoration she feels now. 

“How could I ever believe what you’re saying?” You feel almost hysterical, with the weight of your emotions crashing down on you. “You’re telling me that you’ve waited hundreds of years for the love of your life, the person bonded to your soul, and you’re going to push it all away for some fleeting connection?”

“Don’t reduce it to something as frivolous as that,” His face darkens, and he grips your hand tighter. “You know that what we have runs deeper than both of us can describe.”

”But what is it to a soulmate?” Your voice is despondent, resigned, “What is this compared to a bond transcending time and space? I know that regardless of what happens here, you’ll choose her. I know that very well, Sylus.” Your voice breaks as you reach your tipping point. 

His heart stills, because he himself doesn’t know what he can say to prove himself.

“Please don’t cry,” His voice softens at the sight of tears welling in your eyes, becoming all but putty in your hands. As of this moment, he knows there’s no convincing you, no making you believe that his words ring sincere and true. But he still can’t help but motion to wipe your tears, until you harshly block his hand.

The sorceress and the traveler, Miss Hunter and Miss Secretary. The dragon resting inside of him couldn’t bear to let go of his mate — after all, what was a centuries-old love compared to a new, fleeting connection? But the threads of fate had woven together to bring you to him, and the man he was now couldn’t bear to cut those ties.

You swallow the hurt, trying to put into words the burden that’s been weighing on you for so long, “I don't want to live in her shadow. I don't want to see this through when I know that one day, you’ll regret what you’ve lost.”

His face falls, and you feel a bit of satisfaction in seeing him carry even a smidgen of the hurt you’ve felt. But for the most part, it just hurts you to see him in pain. 

”You think so lowly of me, as if I don't have the autonomy to make my own decisions. But you need to face the facts, dear —- the only one holding back is you.” He’s laid his heart on a silver platter. The only obstacle here was your own doubts, your own insecurities.

You reel back as he steps closer, “So tell me, why do you prevent us from having what we both want?” He brushes his hand gently against your cheek.

You take a deep breath to say the words you know will end this for good. “Because I deserve better than to settle for second place in your heart.” You give him no time to refute before you turn around, heart bruised and battered. “Please, just leave. Don’t follow me. I don't wanna speak to you anymore, not tonight.”

“I’m not leaving you alone in this city —”

“I'll call someone.”

And that’s how it ends. 

You walk away, deciding to call Kieran to pick you up. You can’t bring yourself to be in close proximity with Sylus right now. You know he hasn’t actually left, hearing the conspicuous whirring of his motorcycle in the distance, engine alerting you to his presence from a mile away. In the corner of your eye, you can see Mephisto's red, beady eyes from the pedestrian light across the road, watching you. 

Still, you continue to walk aimlessly in this false notion of solitude, carrying your heels as you wait for Kieran to arrive. Now that the haze of alcohol has cleared, and you’ve let out all that was building up since the hunter’s arrival, you can’t help but feel hollow. Completely drained of all the anger and sorrow that you’d been carrying in the past few weeks. 

The streetlights cast these roads in an artificial light, the moonless sky and desolate streets feeling emptier under its warm glow. Midsummer was fast approaching, a period once marked by sunshine and cicadas. The N109 Zone was the antithesis to everything you’d ever known and cherished — and for a while, you thought that maybe it could be enough. 

But now, you yearn for the sun to rise after the long night you’ve endured. 

A familiar car eventually pulls up, the window rolled down for you to see the concern on Kieran’s face. But he says nothing as you enter, haggard and spent, with no energy to hide your woes or muster up small conversation. The lights of the city dissipate as you head into the outskirts of the N109 Zone, and you can only hope the darkness is enough to shroud the silent tears streaming down your face.

Kieran says nothing as you silently cry in the backseat, offering you the grace of asking no questions. 

—————————————————————

Sylus watches painfully as you walk away, ashamed by this seemingly forbidden act — when all he wants to do is pull you in for more. 

For the longest time, he'd been in this foolish delusion that things could be the same between him and the hunter. If he got her to remember, if he got her to open up. But the truth was, it’ll never be the same. Both of them were two entirely different people in this life, and now… now there was you. 

He had been desperately latching on to the love that was robbed from him centuries ago, and blinded himself to the way you’d fully taken root in his heart. 

Now, he needed to cut off these loose ends and find a way to make up for his mistakes, his indecision — and only then, could he even try to give you the love that you deserve. 

But the next few days prove to be a trial as the world seems keen on keeping the two of you apart. You have a talent for avoiding him, finding increasingly elaborate ways not to cross paths with him. And when an important mission arises, requiring him to go into the field himself, it felt like fate conspiring against him.

He finishes the mission in record time, completing it in detached efficiency as he ponders how to go about speaking with you — something he plans to do as soon as he returns home. But as he nears the entrance to the Onychinus headquarters, he can immediately sense that something is wrong.

A flash of light strikes through the heart of the N109 Zone — devoid of the accompanying rumble of thunder to be lightning — when dread fills his bones. He realizes he's seen this before. 

On the day that you arrived.

He rushes into the building, immediately approached by his lackeys reporting of traitors lurking in Onychinus, who thought it wise to attack the base in his absence. But all he can think about is finding you. 

He rushes to his office, finding the twins equally distressed, after they’d cleared the floor for traitors. “Boss, she’s gone.” 

“Explain it to me clearly. Who's gone?” His heart is racing — struck by horror at the blood pooling at your desk. He knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to confront the devastation about to tip over. 

“Miss Secretary. We apprehended the traitor, but there was a stray bullet and then — she just vanished.” 

Rage blinds him. Suddenly he wants vengeance, retribution, ordering his men to apprehend the shooter. All he can do is imprison and torture the man who dared shoot at the woman he loves, making him suffer for what he’s taken from you. 

But it's not nearly enough. Not when your absence is so palpable, not when you’ve left his life as easily as you entered it. 

In the end, your departure is but a whisper in the N109 Zone, leaving behind nothing but a pool of blood and a mark on his heart.

—————————————————————

are we gonna talk about the way it took me a whole car crash, the national elections, and a loved one's terminal illness to finally finish this chapter? maybe another day. but for now i'm going to play death and rebirth (i didn't let myself until i finished this LOL) i'll see you all on the next chapter where we pick up where this chapter left off and (maybe) see things from sylus’s perspective!

some things i’d like to share since i took off for a month

i've started a new term with new professors — and one of them is literally named GOJO??? my class calls him “professor gojo uwu~” behind his back its hilarious

hot chocolate does not mix well with vodka (don’t ask me how i know)

filipino lads artists are goated and i spend more money on their merch than on the actual game

i fear i’ve become too delusional because why does my dad’s doctor look like ZAYNE —

p.s. if any of you are interested, i've linked the playlist i made for this fic in the series masterlist :>

taglist — @mangooes @mentaltrouble2201 @animegamerfox @crazy-ink-artist @phisen @jeondyy @t4naiis @wifunozomi @munimunni @blessdunrest @rafayelridesfisheatsfish @paintedperidot @mansonofmadness @pillarofsnow @sylususeyourevolonmepls @angelichiaro @mephisto-with-a-knife @crimsonmarabou @hikaru-sama @flamedancer13 @tati-the-fangirl @ameili @poptrim @caramelizedpopcirn @cupid-gene @vvonunie @lunia-likes-pomegranet @iamawkwardandshy @tinyweebsstuff @astolary @vyntheria @theloveofnagiseishiroslife @velourmobius @beaconsxd @hon3yydew @kira-loves0905 @codedove @that-lost-one @colonelcalebs-pipsqueak @kaiii07 @bohoooitsme @everythingistaken00 @rmjace @red-raf-sy @goddexxluv @seris-the-amious @stellisangelicus-world @alhaith4ms @young-adult-summer @junrui

feel free to dm/comment on the series masterlist if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist 💕comment and reblog if you enjoyed!