#about something none of you follow me for

[meowcats734]

I think there was a push about fifty years ago, when the manifold egg hatched and modern computation was kickstarted, to categorize all the neighboring dimensions that wizards could reach unassisted. The last remnants of that eternal endeavor had died down when we collected all the data and realized that there were no reliable accounts of ever opening a portal to the same dimension twice. And it really sucked that nobody from our world would ever get to return here, for two reasons. The first was that we wouldn’t get any subsidies from the Orchards for a record of our experience.

The second was that this forest was beautiful, and I wished I could return.

The tree trunks were several meters thick and ten times that distance apart, giving Ana and I a lovely view of the ceiling of undulating leaves. They formed fractal borders that reminded me of countries, or cracks in glass, each greatwood declaring its own patch of sun to be harvested.

Ana glanced up, following my gaze, then resumed scanning her surroundings. Her only weapon was a long bone spear, which would leave us hopelessly outmatched against any inhabitants of this dimension who had built technology based on this world’s physics.

Thankfully, none of the formicine creatures who’d come to meet us seemed hostile. They’d made a path straight to where the last person to come from our dimension was staying, and walled off every other direction with a thin, translucent film. The message was clear: the natives of this world were happy to let us retrieve members of our home reality, but anything beyond that was off-limits.

Which I was fine with. Coaxing rogue spectives back into society was how I stayed fed and housed. It just saddened me that I couldn’t sightsee even a little.

Ana swiveled as a titanic, feathered form rustled in a nearby tree, spear ready, and for a heartbeat I thought we’d come across some gigantic sparrow giving birth. A moment’s observation, however, showed that the second, smaller creature was burrowing into the still-living bird, ignoring its thrashing. 

The dog-sized squirrel finished melding with the bird, wearing it on its back like a hermit crab did its shell. Silver hairs snaked upwards from the squirrel’s form, digging into the poor bird’s eyes, and it ceased its thrashing before mechanically extending its wings. Its takeover complete, the composite being flapped off into the air, swooping up past the trees.

I watched the entire process with wide, fascinated eyes—if phones weren’t likely to either violently explode or simply cease functioning upon being brought outside our universe, I would have snapped a photo. “That was sick,” I whispered to Ana.

“Ngh.” She set her spear back into a ready position. “Let’s get out of this dimension as soon as possible.”

My enthusiasm melted away a little. “Hey, Ana? Did I do something—“

“Not the time,” she said brusquely. I hurried to catch up with her, chewing on my lip. We passed by a bloom of pale, wriggling grasses whose mouths opened and closed aimlessly; Ana warily navigated us around them, some of the tension leaving her body when we were past. We’d hardly gotten by the grasses when Ana held out a hand for me to stop, and I obeyed. Ignoring your girlfriend and ignoring your bodyguard separately were two imbecilic things; doing both simultaneously was not to be so much as considered.

The ground looked perfectly normal to me, but Ana poked it with a wooden touchstick and scowled. I was about to ask what was wrong when she jabbed the earth with the tip of her spear, and with a yip of pain the ground imploded. Some kind of fox had apparently turned itself inside-out and laid in wait for an unwary meal, because what I’d thought was more dirt and soil turned out to be the guts of a fox who scurried away, slurping its bleeding insides back into its unhinged, rubbery jaw.

“You didn’t have to stab it,” I weakly said.

“Would you rather it ate you?” Ana snapped—and since when did Ana snap at me?

I hesitantly set a hand on her arm, and she flinched, giving me an ashamed look. “Did I… did I mess up somehow?” I asked.

“No! No, you’re perfect, you didn’t do anything wrong, I’m the one who’s yelling at you and—agh!” She grabbed her hair. “Can you get mad at me? Just a little?”

“What?” I drew her into a hug, at which she stiffened. “No! Why would I be mad at you?”

She pulled away and I let her; she scanned the forest for threats once more, almost automatically. There was a squawk as the inverted fox devoured what appeared to be a rabbit, but was actually just a lure for an oversized underground owl. All I saw was a flash of beak and the fox disappeared.

“Because I’m—this! The only thing I can think about is what’s going to kill us, and—ugh, I’m doing it again. I—let’s just keep going, okay?”

“Okay, but… can we talk about this after the job?” I asked, stepping to her side.

But instead of agreeing or refusing, she inhaled, sharp and pained as if she’d stepped on a caltrop, and said, “You’re right.”

“Huh?”

“If I put this off again I’ll never tell you. Now’s as good a time as any, and that’s the problem.”

I almost wanted to ask if she wanted to double back and call off the job, but she felt brittle and I didn’t want to push her. “What do you mean?”

“I never stop being—this.” She gestured at the bone spear. “Even when you just wanted to show me a good time, something in the back of my mind kept looking for threats, something that would hurt us, something to hurt. And I—I’m not good for anything else.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Anachel.” I stepped up to her chest; her downcast gaze met mine. “You’re good for me.”

“Am I?” She clutched her head. “I could say something right now that would hurt you. Hurt you so badly you’d hate me.”

“You won’t,” I promised. “Ana, I will never hate you.” 

And something twisted behind her eyes, the violent instinct of the first punch thrown, the heady call of a bridge’s ledge, and Ana spoke three words and I flinched as if slapped—

A.N.

This is part of a longer story, check out the rest below if you liked this one!

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imagine if the oceans were replaced by forests and if you went into the forest the trees would get taller the deeper you went and there’d be thousands of undiscovered species and you could effectively walk across the ocean but the deeper you went, the darker it would be and the animals would get progressively scarier and more dangerous and instead of whales there’d be giant deer and just wow

[nickfowlerrr]

something good and true - part 1

part two / part three

pairing: mob boss!bucky barnes x reader

warnings (for all parts in whole): 18+ only. domestic violence. retelling of abuse and battery. minor character death mentioned. angst. sweet and protective bucky. fluff. not sure if this qualifies as a slow burn or not 👀 smut. there’s a happy ending! (as per usual)

words: 4.5k

notes: this fic was supposed to be posted last year for suz’s blind date writing challenge but clearly that is not what happened. a year later and some thousands+ words over the maximum allowed (in total), i was finally able to wrap this thing up. i’m posting in parts bc it’s just so long and ahhh i’m sorry i didn’t follow your rules suz @targaryenvampireslayer 😭 and honest to god there is absolutely no expectation for you to read or even acknowledge this! i just want to give credit where credit is due and so this, my first mob boss!fic, is all thanks to the mob boss au prompt you had given to me! so thank you - and sorry again 🫢 dialogue used: “Does it make you nervous when I stare?”. thank you in advance for reading, i’d be happy to hear your thoughts! as always, comments and reblogs are welcome and so appreciated. 🩵

He’s staring again. You can feel it. The heat creeps up your spine as your heart begins to beat a little faster. The feeling has become quite familiar. It’s been two months of this. You had a feeling he’d be back, but really you hoped he’d have just let it go by now. It’s not like you thought any of this through, though… Of course there’d be consequences; and none worse, you’re sure, than the ones he could dish out.

It’s not your fault, you try to remind yourself. It’s not. You finish wiping off the table of the newly vacated booth, tucking the cash tip left for you in your pocket, before you turn around.

You steel yourself, taking a strong breath before you start to walk toward his private booth. You’re not stupid, you know the only reason he comes here is for you, he told you as much himself. And everyone else knows that too as the place has become nearly empty since his arrival. Even your coworkers aren’t bustling about. You don’t know if you prefer having the audience or not. You don’t blame anyone for their fleeing, though. After all the stories you’d heard about the man, you always made yourself scarce in his presence, too.

Until the faithful night he requested you at his table by name… You sigh, it seems you no longer have the luxury of avoidance.

You remember that night well. The first time you formally met the infamous mob boss, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes.

You remember how it felt like your blood turned to ice in your very veins when Molly uttered your name with worried eyes, “Mr. Barnes is asking for you specifically,” she had whispered as she peaked into the kitchen where you’d fled when you heard he was being sat at his rarely used, always reserved table.

You felt sick. Like a lead weight was dropped in your stomach. You wrung your hands until it hurt before you finally nodded. You were sure she could see the fear in your eyes when you looked at her. “O-okay. I’ll be right there,” you’d nodded. You had to swallow down the bile threatening to creep up your throat. He knows, you’d thought. He has to know. That’s why he’s here. That’s why he’s looking for you. You were breathing hard and heavy and you could feel the tears welling in your still sensitive eyes. You were caked in makeup, had been all week, to hide the bruises that marred all over your face. It wasn’t anything unusual. But there was an eerie comfort you felt in knowing once they were finally gone this time, you wouldn’t have to see yourself like that again.

You were in a long sleeve so you knew he wouldn’t be able to see the marks along your arms, and unless he had X-ray vision he wouldn’t be able to see the contusions littered all over your body either. You had a brace on your wrist but it wasn’t too noticeable under the sleeve… Okay, you breathed. You can do this. Deny, deny, deny. You don’t even truly know what he’s here for. You shouldn’t freak yourself out before you’ve even seen him.

You exhaled a shaky breath before you reached for the kitchen door.

It was dead silent as you entered the dining hall and it only added to the compounding fear and anxiety growing inside you.

You approached his table cautiously, too nervous to make direct eye contact as you held your pen and pad in hand.

“Good evening, sir, - uhm, Mr. Barnes,” you corrected yourself, “can I get you started with something to-“

“I’m not here for drinks or the mediocre food, doll,” he stopped you easily, unnervingly calm.

You chanced a glance at him and his deep blue gaze had you swallowing hard.

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed quiet as he stared at you. Like he knew something. Like he knew you knew something.

“Hm,” he considered you for a moment longer before nodding, “ya know, I think you know why I’m here.”

“I-“, you shook your head almost imperceptibly, “I don’t,” was all you could muster as your eyes were now glued to him. You couldn’t will yourself to look away. You were too terrified.

He licked his lip seemingly out of habit before he spoke again.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” He asked, sounding exasperated, bored of the interaction already as he tilted his head at you.

You stiffened at the question, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest.

“I don’t-“

“You do.” He stopped you again, the certainty in his voice leaving no room to deny his accusation. His eyes cutting into you as you stood before him, defenseless. You felt like you couldn’t breathe but you couldn’t just stand there looking terrified. You had to work up your voice and it came out quiet, but Bucky was listening, and watching you, intently.

“I don’t know where Freddy is,” you said, voice low, trying to keep the tremor from it as you finally felt your eyes sting, the fear and pain catching up to you as you blinked the would be tears away before a single one fell. “And he’s not my boyfriend,” you swallowed, “anymore.”

“No?”

“No. We broke up…about a month ago.”

“That’s interesting…” he hummed. “Why did someone see his car at your place the other week, then, huh?”

You winced at the images that ran through your mind as you thought back to that day, the one you knew he was referring to.

“He came over, to talk,” you forced out, no longer looking at the man before you. “But nothing came from it,” you added quickly, “and he left. I haven’t seen him since. Haven’t heard from him, I don’t know where he is.”

You didn’t look at him but by the weight of his gaze you knew he wasn’t buying what you were selling.

“What happened here?” he asked, reaching for your hand.

You were quite literally frozen to your spot as he grabbed your hand in his. His touch was the most gentle you’d experienced in a long while and it sent an unexpected hum through you. You watched your hand in his as he pulled you just the tiniest bit closer to him and the table. He inched up your sleeve to see more of the brace on your wrist and when he moved to raise your sleeve further up your arm, your body finally moved into action. You yanked your hand back, as if his touch had burned you, keeping him from seeing anything more than the brace.

“Fell,” you answered shortly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Barnes, but I don’t know what else to tell you. I don’t know where he is. And to be perfectly honest, I don’t really care.”

You met his eye once more, feeling a little safer as the words came easily. It wasn’t a complete lie. You really didn’t know where he was. And you certainly didn’t care. Despite the scrutiny of the mob boss’ gaze, you didn’t feel nearly as scared as you had before he touched your hand. Something about the softness there… You wouldn’t dwell on it.

“If there’s nothing else,” you added, though it was definitely more of an unspoken question than anything. You weren’t as scared but you weren’t stupid either. You wouldn’t be going anywhere until he dismissed you.

He smirked, huffing a laugh as he watched you.

“You hear from him, I’d be grateful to know,” he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and took out a business card, placing it on the table as he flicked his sharp eyes up to you once more, moving to pull out his wallet next. You watched as he slipped out two bills and blanched as he put them down on the table, moving the card so it sat on the money.

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood from his seat, standing right in front of you as you took in his build and stature. Everything about him screamed success, power, and authority and the two hundreds he left on the table were nothing more than chump change to him, you were sure.

“Just so you know, doll,” he spoke lowly, “I will find him, one way or another,” he took a step closer to you, “and if you think you’re protecting him by not telling me the truth, I promise you’re not.” He held your gaze and you were terrified he could see straight into your soul with how intent it was, “What’s even worse, is he knows we know all about you. He doesn’t care if he’s putting you in harm’s way or not… Forgive me for saying, but nice girl like you, you deserve a hell of a lot better than that. So, if you think of anything you might wanna tell me, my number’s right there,” he said looking back over to the card and money on the table. “That’s your tip. You enjoy your night, sweetheart. I’ll be seeing you.”

His words weren’t a threat, but a promise.

He would be seeing you. Didn’t always call you to his table, sometimes just observed you while you worked, but every week without fail from that day on, he would be at the restaurant.

You never called him, you didn’t have anything to say. You wouldn’t tell him the truth, no, you couldn’t tell him the truth. He was half right, you were protecting someone. But it wasn’t Freddy.

You breathe another strong sigh as you get closer to him and once you’re at the table, you don’t say a word, only meeting his brilliant and pointed gaze.

There’s something different about him tonight, something unnerving in his stare that you take notice of right away. You work to keep your calm but you’re not sure how convincing your faux headstrong demeanor is tonight.

He lets the silence between you grow for a moment longer before finally, he speaks.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?”

His voice is like honey, smooth and rich with that familiar lilt as his lips quirk up just at the corner of his mouth. It warms you while he holds your eye. There’s unspoken tension between you two as you stand so close yet so far, it’s been brewing since your first meeting and has only grown with each interaction since. You’ve never named it, but you couldn’t deny it if you’d wanted to. You haven’t felt your tummy flutter like this since…you can’t remember when.

Surely he knows what his gaze does to anyone, you’re no exception. But the nerves you feel under the weight of his stare are twofold - not all due to fear, but to flustering.

You haven’t responded, but you’ve held his eye in the silence. He smirks at you before gesturing to the open space across from him.

“Why don’t you take a seat, sweetheart.”

It sounds like an invitation, but you know it’s more than that.

It’s an instruction.

You look around briefly, as if someone might stop you or get you in trouble - but that’s laughable when you’re standing next to, arguably, the most feared and respected man this city has ever seen. Standing. Why is he standing? You realize suddenly he’s still waiting for you to move.

You do as he said and gingerly sit down across from him. He retakes his own seat as you settle. How chivalrous.

“I’ll get right to it,” he starts, his deep blue eyes never leaving you, “Freddy-“

God, that name. You can’t hold your tongue. You know it’s why he’s here but you don’t want to talk about this. You just want this to be over!

“Like I told you the last time, and the time before, and the time before, and every other time you’ve asked, I haven’t seen him.” You cut him off without thinking. But you really can’t have the same conversation again. You can’t keep having to think about him. About that night. You're at your wits end - you don’t want to have to so much as hear his name again. You don’t catch yourself in the moment but it hits you when you’re done talking that you just spoke to Bucky in such a familiar way…someone walking past might wonder who exactly you are to him. Clearly you’ve forgotten your place, gotten a little too comfortable around him.

You look up from where you watch yourself wring your hand and shamefully meet his eye again. You inhale and start to apologize but he doesn’t give you the chance.

His hand is on yours before you realize he’s even moving and you flinch a second late, his gentle touch already on you, stilling your nervous habit.

His eyes soften as he makes you meet his gaze, his thumb gently rubbing your fidgety hand.

You swallow hard and watch as he blinks away the previous softness in his gaze, his familiar confident twinkle back as he speaks,

“I know,” he nods, his hand still on yours. He’s closer as he leans across the table. “I found him.”

Your breath catches and your face falls. Fuck fuck fuck.

What does that mean? What does he know? You’re on the verge of having a complete freak out and god he can probably see it written all over your face. You feel a squeeze of your hand and are brought back into your body, into this very moment.

“Don’t look so sick, sweetheart,” he says, a half smile on his lips. “You don’t have anything to worry about, you or your old man.”

Your heart drops at the mention of your father and Bucky must see it because he leans closer still, now holding your hand in his. It’s strangely comforting, but more so is the look in his eyes. The sincerity there, and the hard edge of protection.

You want to believe him but you’ve been gullible before.

“I just wanna know the whole story. I know pretty much what went down, some things I think can safely be assumed, but I wanna hear your narrative, just to get the full picture and get this whole mess squared away, yeah?”

The way he’s looking deeply into your shining eyes, the intimate gaze and soft touch as it seems like he’s trying to keep you calm, you can’t speak much but you give him a quiet, “yeah.”

He nods and you feel a single tear slip down your cheek. He slowly raises his hand, and your eyes are glued to him as he makes sure you watch his movements. Like he’s trying to reach out to a scared little puppy, he reaches to gently touch your cheek. You don’t flinch but as his hand makes contact with your skin, your eyes shut as you try and suppress a shudder.

“No tears, sweetheart,” he tells you in a soothing timbre as he wipes it from your cheek. “You’re too pretty to cry over a loser like that,” he adds with a soft smile.

You shake your head, “He’s not why I’m-“

“I know,” he cuts you off. “Look at me,” he orders gently.

You do as he says and slowly meet his eye. “You don’t have anything to worry about, ya hear me? Not the police, not my men, and certainly not me. Got it?”

You know you’re staring at him like he’s crazy, but you do understand what he’s saying. It takes you a second but you force yourself to nod.

“Good.”

His touch is still on you as his eyes trail all over your face before he lets his hand slip away.

“Alright, you wanna do this tonight or tomorrow night?”

You’re momentarily stunned. You definitely don’t want to do this tonight. You just need to get through the last two hours here and then you’re headed home to unravel in your own space. But tomorrow…

“Tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day,” you point out, sounding unsure.

“What,” he sniffs, looking at you once again, “you got plans?”

“I, I have work,” you answer dumbly after a second.

“Not anymore you don’t,” he says, moving to stand. “So tomorrow it is.” He walks closer to you and extends his hand for you to take, helping you out of the booth. “And you’ve got the rest of the night off.”

“Oh, I carpooled today so, I have to wait anyway,” you explain, though the idea of leaving early sounds like heaven.

“I’ll drive you. Get your things, I’ll have the car pulled around,” he supplies easily. He leaves to the front of the restaurant and you stand in your stupor for only a moment longer before you move to get your things from the back. You have a silly thought worrying about giving him your address, then remember he’s had it this entire time. And he told you you had nothing to worry about.

You’re not a typically trusting person, even more so after Fred, but there's something about Bucky. Something trustworthy, something that feels safe.

You grab your bag and let Molly know you’re leaving early and you got a ride before you head to the front to find Bucky.

He’s waiting patiently and his eyes seem to light up just a bit when he sees you coming.

Your manager is smiling tightly behind the stand as she watches you go. You feel slightly bad for just cutting out like this, but once Bucky came in, the place cleared out some, so it’s not like they’re in the midst of a rush.

You let your work worries slip away as the brisk night air hits you, Bucky holds the door for you as you exit and then opens the passenger of his sleek, blacked out Jaguar for you to get in.

You always assumed someone like him, in his position, would have a driver, but maybe that’s just not his style.

Bucky gets in and as you buckle, begins to drive off. You don’t need to supply him with your address as he heads in the right direction without a word.

It’s quiet but not unbearably so. It’s not until you’re just a couple minutes away from your place that he breaks the silence.

“I’ll pick you up at 7 tomorrow. I figure it’s a delicate conversation we’ll be having, so somewhere private would be better. Are you okay with going to my place? We can have dinner.”

It’s a genuine question, and the earnestness of it eases your nerves even further. He’s truly asking, genuinely concerned with your comfortability.

“Mhm,” you nod with a quiet hum. “Yeah.”

He pulls up in front of your house, the porch light on and shining because you knew you wouldn’t be off until late.

The car cuts off and you turn to face Bucky only to find him opening his door and getting out himself.

You grab your bag and follow him with your eyes as he rounds the car to get to your side. He gallantly pulls open the door for you and helps you out with care. You stand and he closes the car door before you start up the path to the front door. It’s a short walk and as you reach the door you turn to look at him as he stays beside you.

“Thank you, for the ride, and…” you trail off not knowing how to articulate what it is you want to say. Thankfully he doesn’t make you continue. He smiles softly at you.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetheart.”

You blink at him. You don’t know what else to say. You finally look away and turn to the door to unlock it.

“When you said I don’t have anything to worry about,”

“I meant you don’t have anything to worry about,” he answers you before you finish your question. “I’m gonna make this all go away, I just need to know if there’s any loose ends we need to tie up to be done with it, that’s all.”

Your eyes sting again. He makes it sound so easy, so simple.

“I-“ your voice threatens to break.

“Hey, we don’t needa talk about it right now, doll. You just go inside, relax, eat, get some rest. You don’t gotta stress a thing anymore, alright? I’ve got you, there’s nothin for you to worry about.”

“…Why are you being so nice to me?” you look at him with bleary eyes as you crack the front door open and ask the question you’ve been wondering for the past two months.

He takes a small step closer to you and gently turns your face to look at him. “Why do you expect cruelty?”

You stutter a breath as you look at him and feel the memories of the year you spent caught up with Freddy stab at you. You know why, and you’re sure he does, too. But there’s no sense of judgment coming from him, and you don’t feel embarrassed; not like the way you do in front of your mom. She’s the only other person who knows what happened, what your dad did. For you.

She never said it, you don’t expect she ever will, but you can sense the thoughts, the subtle judgement from her, especially when this all first happened. She doesn’t know the truth but you don’t have the care to tell her. Because even if what she assumed was true, it doesn’t change anything. No one deserves that.

But the truth is, you didn’t stay. The first time he put his hands on you, you were gone. He just wouldn’t leave you alone. You were together for six months at that point and they were nice, nothing overly romantic like you see in the movies, but nice. You weren’t expecting anything long lasting, marriage wasn’t even a thought. You knew he wasn’t the one, but dating was… fun. And then, one day, a switch flipped.

He wasn’t the kind, but nonchalant guy you thought he was. He was angry, like it was your fault the relationship wasn’t what he wanted, that it wasn’t more. He wanted it to work so badly, but he knew it never would. That only kept his ire burning. And so during the other six months you were ‘together’ you were really nothing close. You avoided him every chance you got and when he’d find his way in he’d always be sure to leave his mark. He kept up appearances of course, to everyone it seemed. You didn’t want to look crazy, so what were you going to say? ‘I broke up with him months ago and I don’t know why he won’t accept that. He uses me like a punching bag when he gets me alone - when he breaks into my car, my home, any way he can weasel into my life.’ He was in with the mob and everyone knew it, so even if they believed you, what the hell would anyone be able to do? At a certain point you just kind of accepted that this must be it. He’d always just be around somehow. Stories of your on and off again relationship floating around thanks to him - he wanted everyone to know that even if you weren’t together, you were together. Making it harder and harder for you in every way possible.

And then, one day, everything changed.

Now you’re here, and he isn’t.

Now you’re here, and so is James Barnes.

His warm hand is still holding your face and his thumb gently rubs your soft cheek, almost mindlessly, while he peers at you - intent as ever. That softness you saw before is back and you have to remind yourself to breathe when you notice his gaze flit to your lips. It’s brief, fleeting as his hand drops and he meets your eyes once more. He takes back his step and you watch him take a deep breath himself, the first time you’ve ever seen him be anything close to unsteady, if that’s what you can call it.

You break eye contact first, looking down to the small space between you while you push your door open a bit more, holding onto the handle with one hand.

“Have a good night,” he says, voice low and quiet as he watches you step closer yet to the door.

You look at him again then, “You too,” you bid softly, finally stepping inside.

He nods and waits for you to close the door behind yourself. As you push it shut, you catch a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and then that fluttering in your belly returns again.

You turn the lock and then press yourself up against the wood, exhaling heavily.

You feel relieved and yet ten times more terrified in the very same breath.

The most pressing feeling in this very moment though is a weird kind of guilt.

You feel more for a man you’ve only known for two months than you ever did for Freddy in the entire time you’d known him. Bucky is intimidating, obviously, and you know what he does, what he’s known for; he’s a man anyone would tell you to avoid at all costs. But when he’s around, there’s this feeling you get that you just can’t shake. You feel safe around him.

He’s known for being a man of his word, and his words to you have never been anything but thoughtful and…caring. He may prod, but he’s never threatened you. Truth be told, you think maybe he’s known this entire time what really happened. Or at least that you were involved somehow. And still, he wasn’t harsh with you even once. He was doing his own investigation this entire time, of course, and if he’d wanted to get the truth from you, surely he could have- he could’ve saved a lot of time too. Could’ve even gone after your dad.

But he didn’t do any of those things. No, he’s been patient, waiting until he had enough proof without having to pry anything out of you. At the very least you were grateful for that.

Not to mention the fact that he had called you pretty. It seems silly given the circumstances, but it did warm you when the compliment hit. It’s crazy but it’s clear that you’re feeling feelings for one James Bucky Barnes. God help you.

Alongside the unexpected romantic stirrings you’re coming to terms with, the anxiety and stress of the truth you’ve been trying, and apparently failing, to keep about what happened to Freddy has been weighing heavily on you, but with Bucky’s veiled acknowledgment of it, you feel more free already.

It’d be a lie to say you aren’t nervous for tomorrow night, but it’d also be a lie to say a part of you isn’t looking forward to it, too. If for no reason other than what Bucky said; to finally just be done with this whole mess.

[strawberrynull]

──☆💋 to my valentine,

엔하이픈 | Enhypen | Nishimura Riki

──Pairing: fwb!Riki x afab!reader

──Genre: fluff, highly suggestive

──Synopsis: You weren’t expecting anything for Valentine’s Day but your friend with benefits, Riki, wanted to prove you wrong

──Warnings: fwb, eventual relationship, y/n is a VDay hater, kissing, making out, hickeys, biting, skinship, highly suggestive, proofread!!

──WC: 1.6k

──A/N: this is late but it’s whatever. I tried finishing this yesterday but I fell asleep lol

master list:

Today was February 14th. Valentine’s Day. The day where couples got all cheesy, giving gifts and posting about their super perfect relationships.

You hated it. It was like a punch to the gut. Rubbing it into your face that everyone else was in a relationship besides you. So on this day, every year, you sat in your room with a tub of ice cream, watching tv to drown your sorrows.

You weren’t expecting anything since all of your friends were busy either with their partners or hosting galentines get-togethers. None of which you wanted to go to.

Sure, Valentine’s Day wasn’t just about relationships but the fact that it was everyone’s main focus made you feel extremely lonely. You just wanted someone special to spend time with on a day like today.

You were already watching your third drama of the day when a knock came from your apartment door. Your ears perked up and you quickly paused your show. You wondered who it could be since all of your friends seemed busy today.

Peering out of the peep hole of your door, you saw only somebody’s neck and the collar of their shirt. Whoever was outside was tall. You stood back and cracked the door open. There you saw your friend, Riki. Well… you were a little more than friends but not quite… it’s complicated.

“Oh Riki, what are you doing here?” You asked, opening the door wider.

He stood there, anxiously chewing on his lip. He was clearly hiding something behind his back. “I came to give you something since it’s Valentine’s Day.”

You tilted your head at his words, confused why he would be giving you something on this specific day.

Then he slowly and carefully brought a bouquet of flowers out from behind his back. It was a beautiful assortment of red roses and small delicate white flowers. In the other hand he held a small box. “I got you these.” He mumbled shyly.

You quickly looked up at him with wide eyes filled with surprise. “These are for me?” He nodded and extended his arms toward you, wanting you to take the gifts. You took the pretty bouquet from his hands and moved your attention onto the small black box. “What’s in the box?”

“Open it” I said, nodding his head.

With flowers in one arm, you used your other hand to carefully open the small box. Inside were two silver bracelets, both with a half heart charm.

Riki reached into the box, taking out one of the bracelets. “Give me your arm” he instructed, opening the bracelet and putting it around your wrist when you extended it toward him. You smiled as his fingers grazed the skin of your wrist, carefully closing the clasp of the jewelry. Then he quickly placed the matching bracelet on his own wrist and held it up to show you.

“See. Now we match.” He smiled, holding his wrist up to yours until the magnets connected, creating a full heart.

“Riki, I love them.” You said with a pout.

His eyes flickered down to your lips.

“I’m glad. I was worried you would get mad since you don’t like Valentine’s Day” he explained, scratching the back of his neck.

“Of course I’m not mad if they’re from you.” You said with a soft chuckle that made his heart skip a few beats. “Come inside.” You moved to the side, motioning for him to enter your apartment. He stepped inside, slipping his shoes off at the door while you ran off to find a vase to display the flowers in.

Riki followed you into the kitchen with a gentle smile. “I uh… actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

You quickly stopped what you were doing to turn toward him, giving him your full attention. “What is it?”

He swallowed nervously before speaking. “Well I wanted to tell you how I’ve been feeling recently. It’s hard to explain but…” he mumbled, not completely sure how to express his emotions. “I don’t think we should be friends anymore”

“W-what?” Your smile dropped and you felt your heart begin to shatter.

“There are two ways to go about this and neither of them end in us being friends…” he said, biting his bottom lip.

Your heart sank further and further with each word he spoke. Why would he be breaking things off after giving you flowers and matching bracelets? “Riki… what are you saying?” You asked nervously.

“Y/n… ‘friends with benefits’ just isn’t working for me.” He admitted, shuffling his feet in anxiety.

“I’m sorry Riki. If I took it too far, I really didn’t mean to. We can go back to being just friends. I-“ you ranted on before he cut you off.

“I want to be with you.”

There was a moment of silence between the two of you. You just stared at him in pure shock while he stared at the floor, unable to look at you.

“I want to be together.” He repeated, finally lifting his head to meet your gaze.

“You… you mean you want to be in a relationship?” You asked, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. You hadn’t expected him to want to take your… ‘situationship’ any further.

He nodded shyly, stepping toward you slowly and giving you a pleading expression that made you melt. “Please… can I be your boyfriend?”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He really wanted to be your boyfriend? He was so hot, he could go out and pick up any girl in the world but he wanted you? You searched his eyes for any sign that he was joking but you only found sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Riki… I-“ you stuttered. You weren’t sure how to respond but your heart definitely knew the right answer.

You caught the way his eyes flickered down to your lips for a split second before coming back up to look you in the eyes. You also noticed the way he licked his lips before whispering a soft “please” one more time.

Your self control snapped and you quickly attached your lips to his in a sweet soft kiss. The kiss was short but meaningful. When you pulled away, he looked down at you with half lidded eyes, already melting from your touch. “So… you’ll be my valentine? And… let me be your boyfriend?”

You nodded “yes to both of those” you said with a grin. Your words made his cheeks flush and a soft smile spread across his face. And then you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips back onto his, this time in a longer, deeper kiss. He reciprocated, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling your body toward his.

“Thank you Riki” you whispered over and over again between kisses. It was sweet and gentle…

Until it wasn’t.

Riki let out a satisfactory moan, just proving how much he truly wanted this. Now spurred on, you smiled into the kiss, hands finding their way to rake through his soft hair.

The air around the two of you was already becoming thick and heavy. Your bodies were beginning to heat up and your breathing became fast and labored. Upon feeling your hands in his hair, Riki’s hands came to grip your hips harshly. His kisses became aggressive and hungry rather than tender and careful.

The tall black haired boy bit down on your lower lip, forcing your mouth to open enough for him to slip his tongue inside. His pants seemed to tighten at the way you let out a surprised yelp.

With his hands still on your hips, he pulled you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. He pulled away from the kiss, panting heavily. Looking down, he could see the way your tits pressed up against his chest from how close you were.

When he smashed his lips back onto yours, he started getting handsy. He would slide his hands down slowly to feel your backside before bringing them back up to your waist as if he hadn’t done anything. Then, he got bold. He squeezed your ass, making your back arch slightly, pressing your body onto his even more. He groaned hungrily, beginning to kneed your ass in his hands.

You pulled away from the kiss, leaving him pouting. It wasn’t for long though because you quickly dragged him to a nearby couch in the living room and pushed him backwards, forcing him to sit down. You climbed onto his lap, straddling him before starting to trail open mouth kissed from his jawline to his neck.

He groaned at the feeling of your lips on his neck. Hickeys began to form where you were sucking on his skin. Mark after mark, his chest swelled with pride. Riki was so proud to finally be yours (and to be able to show it off.) Before, when you two were just friends with benefits, you wouldn’t leave marks on him or let him leave marks on you. But now… his neck was already covered in dark purple splotches. He was sure to be questioned by all of his friends tomorrow.

Feeling more confident, he put his hands on your hips, guiding them to rock back and forth against his own.

“Even though we’re not friends anymore, do I still get those benefits?”

© strawberrynull, 2024. Do not copy my work. Please DM for permission before translating or reuploading. Thank You

[dcxdpdabbles]

For The next part of freelance inventor, you should do more parent trapping(if you want, of course) I was just picturing cartoon level schemes trying to get these two to kiss.

On the flipside, what would happen if the two of them had a fight? I can see the kids and Alfred just kind of trying to make Bruce agree how wrong he was.

"Bruce?"

His heart stops at the sound of that voice, and then it speeds up before he can look over his shoulder. Not that he needs to. He already knows who called out to him.

Only one person in the world adds a certain ring to his name when they speak it.

Bruce turns away from his laptop, displaying some spreadsheets of the upcoming term, coming face to face with Danny Fenton's beaming smile. Behind him, the ocean gleams like liquid sapphire, highlighting the brightness and warmth in Danny's aqua-blue eyes.

He once thought Danny wasn't human; surely, no human could have eyes like those. The sunlight bounces off the dark of his hair, swaying in the breeze, and it somehow calls attention to the laughing lines around his eyes and mouth.

He's shirtless, showing off a physique that would fit a swimmer. His black swimming shorts are covered in the NASA symbol, which is such a Danny thing to do that it makes Bruce's heart skip a beat.

It's odd. As one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world, Bruce had always been surrounded by gorgeous people. Usually, women and men flung themselves at him, whispering false claims of eternal love while displaying teasing hints of the bodies. It was a tool they wielded to charm him into doing what they wanted, but none of them could even compare to Danny's looks.

Perhaps it was due to how effortlessly beautiful Danny was. He didn't spend hours and hours on his looks. Bruce had heard people claim the inventor was plain, but he could never see it.

Bruce had always thought he was pretty from the moment Dick wandered to his table. The gentleness with which he spoke to his then nine-year-old son with respect and full attention as he explained his first intention- the portable charger. How could anyone not be memorized by him?

"Danny? What are you doing here?" He asks after realizing he is gawking like a fool.

His friend's eyes crinkle further as he laughs. "On vacation. Jay and Dick told me about this place, and since I had a conference on the island, I thought I would spend my off time at the private huts. What about you?"

Oh, those little rats. This was all a setup. He should have known something was up when they all forced him to accept it.

"The kids bought me a private hut for a weekend." He answers, moving his eyes away from Danny's lips with great effort. "They said it was a gift and a means to follow my doctor's orders."

"Dami told me about that. The doctor said you have been putting too much stress on your heart, and yet, here you are, working on vacation." Danny planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock pity. "I bet you haven't even frolicked through a field of flowers or jumped over waves since you arrived."

Bruce feels a burst of amusement and slight anticipation tickle the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I just don't know how to do any of that."

"Since we're hut neighbors, I could show you how to have fun. You rich people know what that is, right? Fun?" Danny asks, reaching down to grip Bruce's wrist. Where he touches, tringles of flames light up his skin, and Bruce fights to keep the blush off his face. "I suppose you don't. The first lesson must be how to frolic through the ocean waves, and it starts right now!"

"I thought it was a field of flowers?" He laughs, allowing the shorter man to pull him toward the blue water.

"It's a hybrid course, Bruce," Danny laughs, splashing through the first wave until they are waist-deep and spinning around to grin at him. Bruce practically swallows his own tongue as the man shines in the sunlight, with a beaming soft smile that makes him feel like the only man in the world. "Prepare for the best weekend of your life. No kids. No work. Just us, the ocean, and some tasty meals!"

"That sounds like heaven," Bruce tells him, wondering if Danny can tell how soft his eyes have become or the yearning in his voice. He just knows somewhere in Gotham, all his children are high-fiving each other and scheming up another ill-fated attempt to get Bruce with the man of his dreams.

It's not that he's unaware of their goals. But over ten years after he'd known Danny, silently pinning for him, Bruce realized it would never happen. His friend didn't feel attraction like that.

If Bruce had told him how he felt, he would have lost Danny forever. He would rather live with this buckling longing for the rest of his life if it meant he could be gifted with Danny's friendly smiles and presence.

Danny reaches back, cupping his hands to gather water and splashing Bruce with a gleeful "What are you standing around for? Come! Frolic!"

Bruce grins, throwing back some water in a bigger splash as the young man screams, attempting to escape. He follows close behind, trying to drown the other between gasps of laughter. For a brief moment, he allows himself to live a fantasy life where this was a real romantic getaway, not a setup by his less-than-subtle children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fine! Be that way! Excuse me for having a fucking opinion!" Danny hisses, swinging around and stomping out of the room. Bruce's chest feels hot with anger; the angry words that had fallen from his mouth taste bitter and satisfying simultaneously. It's a whirlwind of contradicting emotions that he does nothing when the other man slams the door behind him.

He slams his hands over his eyes, willing himself to calm down but it's hard when Danny is the one who set him off. Danny is the only one in the world that made him feel everything like an explosion.

Both the positive and negative emotions.

How did things come to this? The conversation was going well until the two started talking about the Joker. He's always known his friend had a less white and dark point of view regarding the clown, but to actively claim that Batman was a coward for not killing him when he had the chance?

Yes, Danny didn't know Bruce was Batman, so when he tried to explain that the superhero was afraid that if he started taking lives, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Danny had grown dismissive. It wasn't meant to attack Bruce, but he knows that logically.

But it still felt like the man he was in love with was calling him a coward straight to his face, and Bruce grew defensive. He tends to lash out when he's on the defense, and before long, the two were in a heated debate about vigilantes in general.

Suddenly, Danny was his face, sneering and growling, when Bruce pointed out that Phantom was the small-town hero of Danny's boyhood and someone he felt jealous of. Danny obviously held the hero in high regard to the point it felt like he was in love with him if Danny was inclined to such emotions- he was just if not more dangerous than Batman would ever be.

It went even worse when Bruce spoke his support for the Anti-Eco Acts that were currently being discussed.

A lot of hateful words were spoken in ten minutes, and by the end of it, Bruce couldn't even figure out how it ended, with Danny's eyes watering up with angry tears or his chest heaving with the screaming.

Why did he even say that? Bruce had a lot of issues with the Anit-Eco Acts. They were far too seated in bigotry to be anything but an excuse to hunt a different race.

He regretted his words, though he doubted he could ask Danny for forgiveness soon. That man was known for holding a grudge and giving the cold shoulder when angry.

Bruce would have to grovel later.

The door to his study slams open, and his children crowd the entrance, looking alight and outraged.

"Why did you make Dad cry!?" Jason demands, crossing his arms and looking ready to throw down. The kids started calling Danny Dad a few months ago when Tim accidentally slipped it into a conversation, and Danny thought it was sweet.

They played it off as a joke, but Bruce knew they liked referring to him as Dad. Bruce was Father in formal events, B in casual moments, and when angry with him, the kids simply referred to him as B.

B for Bitch since you act like one, Dick once explained, eyes burning with anger and a smile as sharp as broken glass.

"You better have a good reason, B." Tim hisses, voice low and anger tightly coiled like a snake ready to strike. It's a violent reminder of Danny that Bruce can only place his hand over his eyes again and groan.

"We had a disagreement."

"What did you do?" Damian demands next, tapping his left foot impatiently. He picked that up from Jazz the last time Danny's sister was in town. "Before claiming innocence, just know you're always at fault. Dad can do no wrong."

"Hear, hear," Steph, Duke, and Cass say together, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Great. The kids have unionized against him.

"We had a disagreement on the Anti-Eco Acts." He grits through clutch teeth, trying to get his shimmering anger to calm down. The children are not helping, and his frustration rises slowly at the avalanche of noise his children release.

"How dare you!"

"Those acts are a blatant disregard of human decency!"

"I always knew you were a white privilege asshole but this!?"

"I will stay with Danny for the rest of the month! I can't believe this!"

"Look here, you Father. You will not support those act,s especially at the expense of Dad!"

"You blue-eyed demon."

Bruce puts his head into his hands and screams. Danny returns to talk this over hours later, but Bruce is right.

He has a lot of groveling he needs to do. His kids still lock him out of his room. They have a sleepover with Danny, dragging in their mattress and watching movies late into the night.

He sleeps on the couch, listening to their merry-making with a heavy heart. Aflred refused to let him sleep in a guest room once Dick informed him that Bruce was in the dog house with Danny.

Betrayed in his own home.

The Anti-Ecto Acts are rejected primarily due to Bruce Wayne spearheading their resistance. Danny hugs him when he reads the paper, and all is right with the world. The Kids still don't let him sleep in his own bed, and for a month, Bruce's back hurts from the lumping couch cushions.

Clark tells him jokingly the children would choose Danny in a divorce, so he starts carrying around Kryptonite.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 8

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy, seizures, memory loss, hospitals, vomiting, blood and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lando had expected a lot of things Lizzie came home from the hospital���maybe that she’d immediately crash on the couch, maybe that Mara would knock him over with excitement, maybe that he’d have to force her to take it easy.

What he hadn’t expected was the absolute monstrosity of a bed in her bedroom.

He stopped in the doorway, blinking in shock at the enormous, plush-looking bed that took up most of the space. The thing looked like it belonged in a luxury hotel suite, with an obscene amount of pillows, a thick, ridiculously cozy duvet…and at least half a dozen of other blankets. 

Lizzie, who was still a little pale but very much aware of his reaction, snorted. “Something wrong?”

Lando’s jaw slackened as he took in the monstrosity before him. He’d seen king-sized beds before, but this thing was in a class of its own. The sheer amount of pillows alone was staggering. He took a hesitant step forward, his hand reaching out to touch the duvet.

“This is...this is a lot of bed,” he said lamely, turning to look at Lizzie.

She laughed, carefully sitting on the edge of it. “I spent a fortune on this bed, because I’m always in here. If I have to spend half my life in bed, it’s gonna be the best bed money can buy.”

Lando joined her on the edge of the bed, eyeing the mountain of pillows suspiciously. "Half your life, huh?" he said lightly.

Lando’s expression softened. He knew she was joking, but there was an undercurrent of truth there. Between her epilepsy and the exhaustion that followed her seizures, she did spend a lot of time in bed. Of course she would make it as comfortable as possible.

Still—

“You could fit like, four people in here comfortably,” he muttered, sitting beside her.

Lizzie smirked. “Is that an invitation?”

Lando turned red immediately. “I—no—that’s not—stop.”

Lizzie's smirk grew wider at his reaction, her eyes sparkling with wicked amusement. Lando's cheeks reddened even more, his brain stuttering over his words.

"I-You-" He floundered for a moment, trying desperately to regain composure. "That's not—I didn’t mean—"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his flustered state. "Didn’t mean what, Lando?" she teased. “Maybe I just want all this space all to myself,” she teased.

She leaned back against the mountain of pillows, letting out a satisfied sigh. “It’s heaven. The best investment I ever made.”

Lando watched her lean back against the mountain of pillows, and he had to admit, it looked pretty comfortable. 

Lando chuckled, shaking his head. "It looks like you’re about to disappear into that bed entirely," he said teasingly.

"God, I missed this be," she muttered as she stretched out like a starfish and he couldn't help but snort

She looked utterly ridiculous, but utterly cute at the same time.  "You look like a starfish," he teased, poking her shoulder lightly.

A starfish wearing a Ferrari sweatshirt.

Lando chuckled at the sight of Lizzie sprawled out in her Ferrari sweatshirt, looking like the most comfortable starfish in the world. 

"A Ferrari-loving starfish," he said, running a hand lightly over her stomach.

Lizzie grinned back at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hey, I’m just representing my favorite F1 team," she said defensively.

She let out a satisfied sigh as Lando's hand moved over her stomach, a small shiver of pleasure running up her spine.

“You are dating a McLaren driver, and you are wearing Ferrari merch,” Lando said with a sigh.

Lizzie shrugged nonchalantly, her grin widening. "Yeah, but Ferraris are red, and that's my favorite color," she teased. She leaned up on her elbows, a glint in her eyes. "Besides, this is so old that it’s all soft and washed out. Find me a McLaren sweatshirt that feels the same and we can start talking."

Lando made an affronted noise at her words, and pretended to give her a scandalised look. "How dare you!" He said in a mockingly offended tone. "I’ll have you know that the McLaren merchandise is the best in the business. Comfier, more durable, more stylish. Ferraris can suck it."

“This is literally 30 years old,” Lizzie gave back drily.

Lando grimaced. "It's still vintage blasphemy," he muttered.

Lizzie couldn't help but laugh at the look on his face. “You're acting like I've committed a cardinal sin or something."

Then she yawned.

Lando chuckled softly at her yawn, and his expression softened. "Come on," he said gently, lightly tugging at her arm. "You should get some sleep. You're tired."

“I feel like that’s all I am doing,” she complained.

"I know," he said softly. "But your body needs the rest. You know that."

She hummed, pulling up the blankets.

“Could you let Mara out in the garden?” She asked him.

Lando's expression softened at her sleepy request, and he nodded.

"Of course," he said gently, standing up from the bed. He gave her arm another squeeze, before turning towards the door. "Just get some sleep, all right? I’ll take care of Mara."

Lando walked out of the room with one last glance at Lizzie burrowed under the covers, still swathed in her old Ferrari sweatshirt.

He headed for the back door, whistling softly to call Mara. The dog came bounding up, her tail wagging frantically.

Lando let Mara out into the backyard, watching as she darted around the lawn with joyous abandon. He threw her tennis ball a few times, clearly making Mara’s day. After a few minutes, Mara was sufficiently worn out, and came trotting back up to Lando, ball held in her mouth.

His phone rang.

Lando's head jerked up at the sound of his phone ringing, his focus shifting away from Mara. He quickly patted the dog on the head and fished the phone out of his pocket.

It was Oscar.

Lando's brow furrowed as he saw Oscar's name on the screen. He answered the call and brought the phone to his ear.

"Hey, mate," he said, a hint of wariness in his voice.

“I got a bunch of Ferrari dog merch thanks to Charles. Where am I supposed to put it?” Oscar greeted him drily. “I actually brought it to the MCT. I figured you would want to give it to your girlfriend. Want me to drop it off at your house?”

Lando thought about it for a moment, staring at Mara that was happily gnawing on her tennis ball. 

"I am at her place…if you could drop it off…” Lando rattled off Lizzie's address.

“Alright.” Oscar’s voice was light and cheery. “I’ll be over in 10.” 

There was a knock on the door just minutes later. Lando opened the door to see Oscar standing there with a few bags, a grin on his face.

"Hey," Lando said, stepping aside to let him in. "You work fast."

“Special delivery from Charles,” Oscar announced, holding said bag out for him.  “For the dog.”

Lando took the bag with a sigh. “He’s really committed to this, huh?”

“Mate, he designed merch. You’re never escaping it now.”

Lando groaned, imagining the amount of Ferrari-themed dog items crammed into the bags. He could already see the red and white bandana poking out of one.

Lando rolled his eyes and shut the door, following Oscar into the living room.

Lando placed the bags on the coffee table, and started rummaging through them. He pulled out a Ferrari-themed dog collar, a red leash, and a toy that looked suspiciously like a doll version of Charles Leclerc…

"He really went all out, huh?" Lando remarked, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Oscar chuckled, taking a seat on the couch. “You know how he is. Can’t half-ass anything.”

“Lando?” He looked up to find Lizzie in the doorway to her living room staring at them. Mara took that opportunity to come bounding over,  sniffing at her things. “What…”

Lando stood up, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck as he took Lizzie in. She stood in the doorway, looking like she’d just woken up. Her hair was a mess, and she was still wearing her old Ferrari sweatshirt.

“Hey,” he naked worriedly. “Did we wake you?”

“No…” Lizzie trailed off, her gaze flickering over to the bags on the coffee table, her eyes narrowing as she saw the words “Ferrari” written in big font. “What’s this?”

“Mara’s birthday presents. Oscar was nice enough to drop,” he explained.

Lizzie’s expression grew more incredulous as she took in all the Ferrari merchandise, and then Oscar sitting on her couch, her eyes widening. 

“…Nice to meet you, I am Oscar,” Oscar offered, painfully polite as usual, as he looked up from where Mara had stolen Charles Leclerc the dog toy, and then blinked twice at her. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…”

LIzzie just stared at him. “Same,” she finally said drily. “Nice to meet you, Oscar Piastri.” 

Oscar frowned, then glanced at the bookshelf behind her, which was filled with neatly arranged copies of her own books. His gaze landed on the name printed on the spines.

He froze.

Then he whipped around to Lando so fast it was a miracle he didn’t give himself whiplash.

“No. Fucking. Way.”

Lando sighed. “Here we go.”

Oscar turned back to Lizzie, looking personally betrayed. “You’re Elizabeth Treshton? The Elizabeth Treshton??”

Lizzie, clearly amused, nodded. “Guilty as charged.”

Oscar turned back to Lando, shocked. “Mate. You’re dating a bestselling author and you just casually didn’t tell me?!”

Lando just stared at him.

Oscar looked like his entire worldview had been shattered. “You—what?! No! I didn’t know! I thought you were just dating a normal person, not the author of one of the biggest romantasy series in the world!”

Lizzie smirked. “I mean, I am a normal person.”

Oscar ignored her, staring at Lando. “You weren’t just reading her favourite books, you were reading the books she wrote!” Oscar said. 

Lando shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Yeah, well… it’s different when it’s someone you—” He cleared his throat. “Look, can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Oscar just grinned. “Oh no, mate. This is absolutely a big deal.”

Lizzie laughed, watching the two of them bicker. Mara, thoroughly uninterested in human dramatics, was already trying to open her present.

Oscar exhaled like he was processing a life-altering revelation. Then, awkwardly, he cleared his throat. “So, um. Anyway. This is weird now, but—”

Lando narrowed his eyes. “But what?”

Oscar hesitated, then mumbled, “My girlfriend is, like, your biggest fan.”

Lizzie grinned. “I like her already.”

“Yeah, well,” Oscar scratched his neck, awkward. “If I go home without signed books, I might not have a girlfriend anymore.”

Lizzie chuckled at Oscar's predicament. "Well, can't have that, can we?" she said teasingly. “Especially since you brought my dog…Ferrari themed… everything.”

“Oh that’s Lando’s fault,” Oscar said quickly. “He asked Charles for it.”

Lizzie stared at him and Lando looked everywhere but at her. “You…you asked Charles Leclerc for Ferrari merch for my dog?” She asked him, sounding oddly touched.

Lando swallowed. “You said she’s the best thing that ever happened to you. So she deserves it. Even if I still think that McLaren merch is better,” he defended himself.

Lizzie’s eyes softened. "You giant softie," she mumbled, shaking her head fondly at him. “This is the sweetest thing anybody has ever done for me.”

Lando blushed under her gaze, but he tried to maintain some composure

"Hey, don’t get used to it," he retorted with a smirk. "This is a one-time only thing. And only for your dog. I’m still team McLaren."

Lizzie chuckled."Of course, of course," she teased. "McLaren forever, Ferrari for Mara."

[th-citizen-matriarchy]

TEXT CORRECTION, TO MAKE IT WORK IN THE NEW ERA OF MATRIARCHY: How can I express my opinion to my (man) FEMALE in a polite manner without being insubmissive? I know now, at least for me, that what comes to mind when I take some time to meditate on what I need to do to become THE best house husband I can be, one thing I think I could constantly improve is my manner.

Specifically, expressing my opinion without appearing rude and insubmissive to my wife, or even ruining my appearance as a docile (lady) LITTLE MAN.

I grew up in a house where you had to be loud, rude, and abrasive to be heard.

It's hard to unlearn habits like that, especially when most of the world considers it an UNAcceptable personality trait. But when you're focused on being a good and holy househusband, submission is vital! So let's talk about when it's okay to speak up, when you should bite your tongue, and how to do it correctly.

As a woman and a traditional housewife, AS A LITTLE GUY AND A GOOD TRADITIONAL HOUSEHUSBAND, you need to realize that 98% of the time your (man) FEMALE is only doing what's best for you and you need to bite your tongue. I know I have a hard time doing this myself, so not only do I practice how to respond politely in situations where I would do something TOTALLY different, but I also practice hiding my feelings behind a sweet and docile smile, PUTTING MY HANDS BEHIND AND CATCHING MY FINGER UNTIL IT HURTS, but what if your (man) MANLY WIFE is doing something totally wrong? What if it's really horrible? (LIKE BURPING) How do I know if I should speak up or not? You should only speak up if…

IF SHE, He is going to hurt you, himself or others physically, emotionally, mentally or financially.

IF SHE, He is forcing you to break strong beliefs that you have. (LIKE NOT WEARING PANTS ANYMORE)

IF SHE, It is unwanted physical advances that you are not ready for or do not want at the moment. (LIKE LAYING ON TOP OF YOU OR PRESSING YOUR LIPS TOO HARD)

If none of the above applies to you, then you have nothing to worry about. You should smile and bow your head with a soft "Yes, honey" I LOVE YOU. MANLY WOMEN (men) were put on earth to be strong and kind leaders in the home.

LET THEM BE, LIKE THAT, It is their duty to lead and their responsibility to serve. If your STRONG FEMALE (man)'s decision applies to ANY of the three situations mentioned above, follow these guidelines for remaining submissive when questioning your authority, and if they persist (especially if they apply to 1 or 3), call an abuse hotline and get out of there. But if they don't apply, here are the guidelines for remaining submissive when expressing your ideas.

LISTEN TO HER, SHUT UP until she's done. SIT PROPERLY, YOU SHOULD BE polite and respectful, and listening to her will show that you are still submissive despite having a different opinion.

Don't yell!! DON'T RAISE YOUR VOICE! I can't stress this enough!!! Don't yell, don't interrupt him, don't talk over him, don't even talk as loud as him!! PUSH YOUR LIPS! KEEP YOUR HANDS TOGETHER ON YOUR LEGS AND CLOSE THEM, DON'T EXPRESS ANYTHING WITH YOUR LIPS, DON'T MAKE GRIMACE!

YOU AS A SUBMISSIVE MAN, Keep your face under control. DON'T BLAME HIM WITH BAD GESTURES, Make sure you don't roll your eyes or make irritated facial expressions or gestures, as that will automatically make everything you say disrespectful, even if you agree with him. SHE WILL IMMEDIATELY DISQUALIFY YOU, A KIND SMILE WILL MAKE YOU ACCEPTABLE TO HER. KEEP YOUR SHOULDERS BACK AND SMILE. EVEN IF SHE DOESN'T LIKE WHAT YOU HEAR.

WHEN SHE ALLOWS YOU TO TALK, Speak to her kindly and with a docile posture. WITHOUT RAISING YOUR VOICE, WITH A KIND AND CALM TONE, TRYING TO MAINTAIN THE TONE OF A FRAGILE CHILD, Do not cross your arms, OR YOUR LEGS, do not be abrupt or sharp with him, do not tilt your hips. None of that. KEEP YOUR HANDS TOGETHER AND CALM ON YOUR DRESS.

And number 5, THE MOST important of all…

HER WORD, WHATEVER SHE SAID, IS HER WORD, PERIOD! If she does not give in, agree with her and do it! It is not that bad and he is just trying to do what is best FOR YOU AND YOUR CHILDREN. Let the MANLY FEMALES be WOMEN and let THEM lead! They are the head of the family and you are there IN THE BACK to support HER! SUPPORT HER BY KEEPING QUIET! DOING SILENTLY WHAT YOU ARE TOLD!

I hope this helps you as much as it helped me! NOT TO BE MISTREATED AND IGNORED, Thank you for reading and I hope you are lucky enough to have a happy home and a clean kitchen!

How do I politely express my opinion to my man without being unsubmissive?

Now I know, at least for me, what comes to mind when I take time to meditate on what I need to do to become the best home maker that I can one thing I believe that I could constantly be improving on is my mannerisms. Specifically voicing my option without appearing rude and unsubmissive to my husband, or even ruining my docile lady like front. I was raised in a house hold where you had to be loud and rude and abrasive in order to even be heard. It’s hard to unlearn habits like that, especially when most of the world considers that to be an ok personality trait! But when focousing on being a good and holy housewife submission is vital!! So let’s talk about when it’s ok to express your opinion, when to hold your tongue and how to do it properly.

As a traditional woman and housewife you should realize that 98% of the time your man is just doing what is best for you and you should hold your tongue. I know I have a hard time doing this so I practice not only how to respond politely in situations where I would do something TOTALLY different but I practice hiding my feelings behind a sweet and docile smile too, but what if your man is doing something totally wrong? What if it is truly horrid? How do I tell if I should speak up or not? You should only speak up if…..

1. It is going to harm you, himself or others physically, emotionally, mentally, or financially.

2. If it’s forcing you to break steadfast beliefs that you have.

3. If it is physically unwanted advancements that your not ready for or do not want at the time.

If it does not apply to any of the above then you have nothing to worry about. You should smile and bow your head with a soft “Yes dear.” Men were put on earth to be the strong leaders kind leaders of the house hold, LET THEM BE THAT!! It is his duty to lead and your responsibility to serve! If your mans decision applies to ANY of the three situations listed above follow these guidelines to remain submissive in questioning his authority and if they persist (especially if they apply to 1 or 3) call an abuse hotline and get out of there. But if they don’t apply here are the guidelines to remain submissive when voicing your ideas.

1. Listen to him until he is done. It is polite and respectful and listening to him will show that your still subservient despite having a different opinion.

2. Don’t yell!!!! I can’t stress this enough!!! Don’t yell don’t interrupt him don’t talk over him don’t even talk as loud as he was!!!!

3. Keep your face in check. Be sure your not doing any eye rolling or making any irritated gestures or facial expressions, that will automatically make whatever you say disrespectful even if your agreeing with him.

4. Speak to him kindly with docile posture. Don’t cross your arms do not be snippy and short with him don’t cock your hip out. None of that.

And number 5 THE MOST important one of all..

5. HIS WORD IS FINAL!!! If he is not budging then agree with him and do it!! It’s not that bad and he is just trying to do what is best! Let men be men and let them lead! They are the head of the household you are there to support him!! SUPPORT HIM!!!!

I hope that helps you guys out as much as it helps me out! Thank you for reading and I hope you are blessed with a happy house and clean kitchen!

[hrtwayne]

My Kink is Karma || Alexia Putellas [Part One]

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Physiotherapist!Reader

Summary: Where Y/n is hired as the new Physiotherapist for Barcelona Women's Team after a recent complicated breakup with one of the stars of English football.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: None!

Next Chapter | Women's Football Masterlist

Y/n Henry adjusted her sunglasses as she walked through the streets of the Northern Quarter, her favorite refuge in Manchester. Despite the overwhelming success she had achieved over the past two years with her skills in physiotherapy, working with the Arsenal women's team and the French national team, she always found a way to return to this place, with its record stores and the cafés of the neighborhood where she grew up.

Manchester wasn't just her hometown; it was the essence of who she was. Her way of thinking, her sporting spirit inherited from her father—a player so well-known by the Gunners' fans, Thierry Henry—and the influence of her mothers in aspects that didn't involve a football or late-night study sessions to find ways to help some player.

It was almost impossible to ignore the influences in her life, growing up in a home divided by two footballing passions. Her father, a football star who had marked an entire generation of Arsenal fans, always took every opportunity to remind her of her roots. On the other hand, her mother, a loyal Barcelona supporter, made sure to balance the man's fanatical narrative.

That morning, Y/n decided to start her day at a cozy café, Fig + Sparrow, a place she had loved since her teenage years. She ordered her usual flat white and sat at a table near the window, watching the flow of people walking down the streets. Some were in a hurry, others glued to their phones, and a few chatting idly. As Y/n finished up some last-minute work for the semester, she tried to forget everything that was happening in her life: a recent breakup with one of English football's stars, her possible departure from Arsenal, and her new contract with a Spanish team.

The Northern Quarter had always been a haven of creativity and calm for her, and even now, at the peak of her career, she returned to those bustling streets when she needed to unwind.

After her coffee, Y/n headed to Afflecks, the paradise of alternative shops, where she used to spend her teenage allowance buying books and vinyl records with her younger brother, Harry. As she walked with her phone in hand to let the blond player know she was near the store, Y/n started a small list of things to buy by the end of the day.

"I thought you'd never stop giving autographs," Y/n joked, hearing the man's chuckle.

Harry, who was leaning on a counter, looking at some vinyl records, turned his attention to his sister.

"Hmm, did Charlotte call you?"

"The last time she called me, she was in Los Angeles filming that series," Y/n replied, picking up The Smiths' album. "Did something happen?"

"You know, the same old story. The idiot ex-boyfriend she always ends up going back to," Harry said, grabbing the blue-covered album, which Y/n recognized as Taylor Swift's "1989."

Y/n rolled her eyes at Charlotte's excessive stubbornness.

"So, she called you to say she got back with him?"

Harry placed the vinyl in the basket along with The Smiths' album.

"She called saying they were going to film a 'romantic' scene together, and then they ended up drunk in the trailer," Harry explained, seeing the bored expression on his older sister's face. "Dad's going to kill her when he finds out."

"And you know he'll blame some of it on us, right? Charlotte's an adult, H. If she made a mistake like that, she should face the consequences," Y/n cut the conversation short, noticing how Harry sighed wearily. "You need to stop worrying about other people's problems and focus on yourself, dude. You have an important game in a few days."

Harry seemed to relax his posture gradually, nodding as he followed his sister to fill the basket with vinyl records and old discs.

That same day, around 8:40 PM, Y/n stepped out of the bathroom wearing an oversized Arsenal shirt, her hair still wet and a somewhat tired look on her face. The messy room in her Manchester apartment was filled with books and reports about some players.

That place was truly the perfect mix of her chaotic personality. Y/n sat on her bed, arranging the scattered papers to try to organize the post-apocalyptic zone.

The sound of her phone ringing broke the deep train of thought Y/n was in. The French physiotherapist sighed, putting the paperwork aside to answer the phone. An unknown number flashed on the screen.

"Hello?" Y/n said, her voice still tired.

"Hey, Y/n. Did I wake you?" A firm voice with a slightly funny accent asked.

"No, I just got back from a walk with Harry," Y/n replied, recognizing the voice as Aitana's. "Did something happen?"

"I heard about your breakup with the English player, and I wanted to know if you're okay," Aitana began, in a tone that Y/n immediately recognized as genuine concern. "Last time you said things weren't going so well between you two."

Y/n hesitated, taking a generous sip of the tea that warmed her throat. She knew she couldn't hide anything from the player.

"Maybe breaking up was the healthier solution, A. It wasn't exactly news that things weren't good between us," Y/n paused. "You know, I couldn't run away from it forever."

Aitana seemed to hesitate, and the call fell silent for a few seconds.

"And are you going to stay on the same team as her?" she finally asked, in an almost maternal tone.

"Well... I've received a few offers from some teams. Nothing too different from what I do here at Arsenal, but it might be a chance to try something new. My contract is up now, so I can sign a pre-contract with any team that's not an English rival."

"Don't tell me there's an offer from Barcelona in the mix," Aitana said, hearing the physiotherapist's chuckle.

"Well, you guessed it," Y/n said, in a fake tone of annoyance. "Next week I'll land in the city to sign the contract and start working."

"I can finally rub it in the English girls' faces that I have you on my team," the woman celebrated, making Y/n laugh. "Now I'll let you think about what you're going to tell your dad."

"Don't even remind me, he's going to be furious. But at least it's not Chelsea or Manchester," Y/n joked, hearing the midfielder laugh.

[astraeus-tree]

Chapter 4

『Everything Begins From There』

Disparities Between Our Souls You finally reunite with (some of) your family and ask them for help Disclaimer(s): N/A

Chapter 3 <- Chapter 4

Cass had arrived at the rooftop where Damian was at not even 30 minutes after she had said she would. The two had thoroughly inspected the house as best as they could from the distance they were at. Not much was revealed, it had looked almost the exact same as it did before you disappeared.

Hours had passed since your first appearance and when you had gone into the house, many theories about what happened to you were said but none had made sense. The two had stayed on the rooftop, even as they saw the sun peek through the horizon. Their patience was wearing thin, but if this waiting could lead to at least the smallest hint to what happened to you, then it would be worth it.

Finally, when the sun had fully risen, barely visible through the smog, out you came. You were not alone either, the other vigilante was at your side, carrying the rogue that Damian saw last night. They saw you nod at your partner before a silk-like substance come out of your wrist, using it like ropes to jump from one building to another.

Cass and Damian stealthily followed you around the city, utilising the skills they were taught in the League of Assassins. The route you took had been familiar to them, but they had disregarded the thought, focusing on not losing you to your speed instead. Yet, as mere minutes went by, and great distances were covered, they could ignore it no longer. Not when you had stopped in front of the Wayne Manor, their home.

Your home.

You felt your heart beat in your chest and your mind race as you swung through the streets of Gotham. You moved through alleyways that you knew were always empty of thugs. Every once in a while, you would swing high enough to see the city, and every time, you would make sure to take in the scenery. The view of Gotham would never fail to calm your nerves, even with all the pain it had caused you.

As you crossed the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, you knew there was no turning back. The manor made its way into your sight not long after. You didn’t know if you felt relief or dread, or maybe even both. You wanted so badly to turn around and go back to your aunt’s house, but you had no other choice.

You easily jumped over the fence and walked up the stairs to the door. Just like at your aunt’s place, you had hesitated to knock on the door, but one look at your husband was all that you needed to steel your nerves. Alfred had opened it almost instantaneously, something inside you was telling you that he had been expecting you. You were right of course, he had been waiting since he first heard of your appearance last night.

“Master [Name]. Welcome back.” You weren’t surprised to know that even through the mask, he knew it was you. That’s just how he always was.

“Hi Alfred. How are you?” You asked him, attempting to not make this reunion any more awkward that it has to be.

“I have been well. Please enter, master [Name].” The gap between the double doors widened and he bowed down as you entered. You quickly thanked him as you walk inside. “Please follow me into the cave. I’m sure you have plenty to say.” You nodded, your footsteps echoing as the three of you walked down the hallway and into the Batcave.

The Batcave thankfully had an area that held many cells, and that’s where Miguel had put the anomaly. Had it been a normal cell, you wouldn’t had trusted to put him there, but this was your family and you knew their security was top notch.

In another area, sectioned away from the basically-prison area and the main, a couch was set, a coffee table in front of it and TV across from it. You didn’t remember this room, but you knew time inevitably changes things, and this was one of them. You sat on the couch, Miguel sitting beside you, silently taking in his surroundings.

Alfred offered both of you tea, which you had gladly taken up and you husband cautiously accepting. You were thankful for the silence, it gave you time to collect your thoughts, to think about what you wanted and what you should say.

This peace did not last for though. Three familiar figures had barged into the room, and from their frazzled looks, you could tell they had ran. It was your siblings—or at least some of them. Questions and statements had rushed out of their mouths, a cacophony of voices filling the room. It was safe to say, you were overwhelmed. You were thankful when Alfred silenced them, pointing out how panicked you had looked.

“I’ll answer your questions later. I just want to know, where’s everyone else, especially Bruce?” You asked them.

“The other’s are busy right now, they said they’ll come when they finish what they need to. B is on a mission with the JL.” Cass replied. You inwardly sighed, a part of you had hoped B would be here so you could see his reaction, but perhaps this was for the best.

“Alright. Ok. That’s fine.” You muttered under your breath, your disappointment was immeasurable, but you knew you should’ve known better. After all, you had arrived here out of no where. Even if they hadn’t neglected you, dropping everything and coming back to the manor in such short notice was an almost impossible task. Miguel clasped your hand is his, silently comforting you. That was when Tim spoke up.

“Who is this man with you? Oracle and I have scoured everywhere for anything but nothing.” Of course your family’s first words to you would be an interrogation.

“He’s my husband.” You state plainly.

“And why is there no records of this conjugation?”

“Because it didn’t happen in this universe.”

The silence was loud. Just those few words had explained everything. The family was no stranger to multiverse problems, so it was almost astounding how this realisation had never been made until now. Until you were the one that was saying it to them.

“So why return now? It seems like you’ve already made a life for yourself in this other universe, so why throw it away to come back here?” Damian questions, and for once, his voice isn’t filled with contempt at you.

“We don’t even want to be in this universe. Hell, it’s detrimental for us to even stay here for too long—well not for me but for Miguel and the anomaly.”

“Anomaly?” They all asked, in sync.

“A being that doesn’t belong in this universe.” Miguel had spoken up. You let him continue his explanation of the multiverse and the anomalies, with him being more verse in the topic than you were. Once again, they were quiet at the end of his talk, processing the info dump they had just received.

“Ok… Enough with that though. Have you been well in the past years? Are you going to leave me again?” Cass spoke up. You were taken aback by her words. You didn’t expect for someone in the family to actually question your wellbeing.

“I’ve been doing great. As for the second question, that’s the reason why we’re here actually. We need your help fixing our gizmos so we can go back to our universe. We tried earlier but no results came out of it, so we’re hoping you guys could help us.” You could see Cass’ face drop, you were leaving her again, and this time, voluntarily.

“What do we get out of this?” Tim questioned.

“More knowledge of the universe and gadgets that could help you travel it, if you wanted to.” They all had contemplative looks on their faces, and you knew they were all debating on if this was a worthy deal or not.

“I believe we should help master [Name].” Alfred spoke up. You were grateful, this was probably the one factor that they needed to make their final decision, Alfred’s approval. The three of them nodded, yet you could tell Cass and Damian’s were hesitant. You stood up from the couch, and so did Miguel.

“Great. Let’s get started then.”

Taglist (open)

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx @definitely-not-sammie @birbtweettweet @itsberrydreemurstuff @bellethesleepypotato @yaoizee @bat1212 @mybones537 @cim0nnin @ninihrtss @redkarmakai @a-lurking-fae @1abi @lettucel0ver @leeiasure @chericia @yotokx @amber-content @oscarisaac2099 @awawage @k-anaru @randomlyappearingartist @cutelittlesugarfairy @ironsaladwitch @pix-stuff @capswife @bibliophile-yomna @inojinieeee

This chapter is kind of a filler chapter, so I apologise for that guys

I lowkey got addicted to binary puzzles when I was writing this and that's why it took so long lmao

Also, a little rant but oml my physics teacher actually makes me hate the subject so much, which is so sad cuz we're doing a cool topic this term, which is nuclear physics

Anyways, mistakes are free to point out and will be fixed immediately

This week's title doesn't come from the lyrics of a song, but does come from an MV! Wiege recently released on Valentines and I felt I had to include it somehow

Have a nice day/night everybody <3

Also the next chapter of DBOS will be delayed since it is the week of my birthday!! Yippee

[kyrsse]

Hiii I started watching Sakamoto days and immediately thought of Sylus, if you can, can you make a fic about their first meeting but make it mc and sy???Thankyou!! I just love the way u write!

OMG YES!!! I LOVE THAT MANGA (i stopped reading it)

Love at first Aid!

synopsis: Sylus, was the most notorious and formidable hitman in all of Onychinus.No one dared cross his path, let alone challenge him. Women were simply drawn to him like moths to a flickering flame. Yet, none of them ever truly captured his attention. Love, romance, those were stories for fools, not for Sylus. Or so he thought.

wc: 779

Sylus, was the most notorious and formidable hitman in all of Onychinus.No one dared cross his path, let alone challenge him. He reigned supreme, a king in a world of whispers and concealed daggers. Money flowed like a river to his coffers, fame clung to him like a second skin, and women… well, women were simply drawn to him like moths to a flickering flame. Yet, none of them ever truly captured his attention. He was a man consumed by his work, a solitary figure in a world of chaos. Love, romance, those were stories for fools, not for Sylus. Or so he thought.

One sweltering afternoon, Sylus found himself in a brightly lit, decidedly ordinary convenience store. He needed supplies, the mundane necessities of a life lived in the shadows. He moved through the aisles, gathering his items with an air of detached efficiency. At the checkout, he kept his gaze averted, a habit born of necessity. He wasn't looking for trouble, or even conversation. He just wanted to pay and disappear. As he placed his items on the counter, he fumbled for his wallet, and that's when he heard it – a voice as sweet and unexpected as birdsong in a battlefield.

"Hi!! How may I help you, sir?"

He looked up. And the world stopped.

Behind the counter stood a girl. A girl with a sweet smile that could hit Sylus like a supernova. Sylus, the man who could take down a whole gang without breaking a sweat, suddenly turned into a stammering mess. His heart did a little pitter-patter dance, and he felt his cheeks turning the color of a ripe strawberry.  Is this what they call love at first sight? The thought was so foreign, so utterly ridiculous, that it almost made him laugh. Almost.

He was still staring, completely mesmerized, Just then, the adorable cashier noticed a little… uh… occupational hazard on his shirt.  "O-oh no! Is that blood?" she stammered, her eyes widening.

Sylus blinked, suddenly aware of the crimson stain blossoming on his shirt. He instinctively clutched at his shirt, trying to conceal the evidence. He opened his mouth to explain, to offer some plausible excuse, but before he could utter a word, the girl had vanished. She was gone, disappearing into the back room.

He sighed, a sound of resignation. Even his bloodstains scared away the cute cashiers. Why would she be anything but terrified? He found his wallet, threw some money on the counter and left the store, the weight of his solitary existence pressing down on him once more.

"W-wait!!"

He stopped, his senses on high alert. That voice… it was the girl from the counter. He turned to see her rushing towards him, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in short gasps. Why? Why was she following him? Hadn't she been scared?

She skidded to a halt in front of him, her eyes filled with a mixture of concern and… something else. Something that made his heart do another one of those disconcerting flips. She held out a small, brightly colored band-aid.

Sylus stared at it, then at her. "For me?" he managed to croak out.

"Yes," she said, her voice a little breathless. "S-sorry it took me so long to find these… We ran out of other medicines to treat wounds, but I hope this helps." She thrust the band-aid into his hand, her fingers brushing against his. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt of electricity through him.

"Please clean your wounds when you get home!"

He was speechless. He, the most feared assassin in Onychinus, was rendered mute by a simple act of kindness. He mumbled a "thank you" and turned to leave, feeling strangely flustered. As he walked away, he glanced back and saw her still watching him, a small smile on her face. "Be safe on your way home!" she called out.

He gave her a small, almost hesitant wave in return.

Inside his car, Sylus placed his purchases on the back seat. He took a deep breath, his hand instinctively going to his chest. Thump-thump, thump-thump . What was this feeling? Why was his heart behaving like a runaway train?

He drove home, his heart doing a little happy dance. A smile touched his lips as he replayed the encounter in his mind. Sylus, the man who never bothered with minor injuries, suddenly became obsessed with the cleanliness of his skin. After that night, he made sure no one, absolutely no one, even dared to scratch him. The band-aid, still in its brightly colored packaging, remained untouched, a precious memento of a chance encounter, a tiny seed of something… more.

AO3

[filmnings]

you don’t know how excited i am to finally start reading this!! like i’ve been waiting for the spare time to sit down and devour all the words, let’s get right in to it hehe~╰(▔∀▔)╯

“Yet, for some strange, inexplicable reason, you find yourself absolutely obsessed with him.” the biggest smile just came to my face

“How can you be so obsessed with someone you loathe?” oh girl you’re about to find out

her finding the lessons in attraction book and immediately going like “yeah, that’s my professor FOR SURE” is killing me so bad😭😭 the way she slowly gets more and more obsessed with him is so me. like girl,,, hiding it in your stack of textbooks and not being able to look at the cashier?? LMAOOO that’s me when i go to the library and find some old ass book that’s looks interesting that i end up checking out

“Everything he does makes your belly swirl with need, even something as simple as running a hand through his hair or adjusting his glasses” i can literally picture soobin doing this and it’s driving MEEE crazy like omg girl i feel you i’d start tweaking in the middle of class

“Something about it excited you, reading about fucking your professor with your real professor standing there in front of you, none the wiser. Being able to admire him as you indulged in your secret desires. If he caught you, you would be humiliated, but you would be lying if you said that the thought didn’t excite you a little too…” oh she’s BOLD omg i cannot wait until they start fucking

“Miss L/N, what are you doing?” FUCK

““Give it to me.” he orders curtly, stretching out his hand.” i’d literally kms in front of the entire class and change the trajectory of their lives forever

GODDDD THIS IS SO EMBARRASSINGGGG

“He places it gingerly face-down on his desk like he was handling a dead fish, and you’re both grateful and horrified that he noticeably avoids making eye contact with you when he steps back up on his podium.” this is killing me

“And you’re absolutely sure it was, because the first thing you see once you step into his office is your professor lounging back in his chair reading your book.” HELLO?????

“Professor Choi glances up from your book, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes as he sends you a tight-lipped smile.” see id get naked right then and there and i’m so serious

is this a bad time to mention that i didn’t look over the warnings or anything?? i’m literally reading this completely blind hehe i hope he’s a secret hard dom

““I followed my professor to his office, watching with bated breath as he rounded his big wooden desk.”  Professor Choi reads aloud.” OH GOD HIM READING IT OUT LOUD ID LITERALLY DIE

“’Now bend over with your elbows on my desk, so that you are looking directly at the essay. Keep your face very close.’” i’m gonna need them to recreate this

soobin getting all flustered like YEAH YOU SHOULD’VE MINDED YOUR BUSINESS

“Professor Choi shut the book closed abruptly and looked up at you with a very red face and wide eyes.” what did we learn soobin what did we learn

“You shouldn’t be reading this. It’ll put... thoughts in your head that don’t need to be there.” extremely too late for that

“Karina and Giselle loved to go out and party.” omg my girls

“You stumble through the crowd in search of a bathroom sign, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies.” can you imagine soobin being here id actually bust out laughing

“But all of that goes out the window when among the countless bobbing and weaving heads, you spot a frighteningly familiar pair of broad shoulders. “Professor Choi?!” you call out in shock, shoving your way towards him. “What are you doing here?!”” LMAOOOHDSHFHSIFBDJC

““Oh, this is Y/N?” One of the men slurs gleefully, a grin stretching across his handsome face. There was a certain hunger in the way he undresses you with his fox eyes, scanning you head to toe like a predator. You could tell from his flushed pink cheeks that he was very drunk. “I’ve heard all about you! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”” hehe so you’ve heard about me??

““You’ve… heard about me?” you cringe, your heart sinking. Out of whatever Professor Choi had to say about you, none of it could be anything good.” our two different reactions LMAOOO

YEONJUN AND CHAN I JUST SCREAMED AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS (yeonjun call me)

““If you fuck him, please put in a good word for me.” Giselle slurs drunkenly in reply. “I need to pass that fucking class.”” HELPFHSXGHSBDHD so real tho

OMG THE WET DREAM???? and it’s about her apologizing too like oh girl you’re in DEEP…

“…And I was touching myself.” OH???????

“I could see your hand up your skirt all the way from the back of the class.” Professor Choi spits, his carefully controlled demeanor cracking and his wild, untamed anger boiling to the surface. “It’s like you’re trying to get the two of us caught. You’re lucky no one else was looking… or was that what you wanted? Did you want everyone to see what a slut you are?” giggling and kicking my feet

“I’m here to tell you, sir, that going through my book was an invasion of my privacy! And that it’s none of your business what I read! I’m an adult, not a child, and I can do whatever I damn well please!” PERIOD!!!! you tell him!!!

“Listen.” He growls, his voice octaves deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “You’re acting way out of line right now. Don’t you dare ever talk to me like that, you understand me? I’m still your professor, even when we’re not in class. You’re to treat me with respect—” his voice getting deeper my god… (s)creaming… where’s that one lin manuel miranda meme when i need it

I FOUND IT!!!!

“I know you have some sort of feelings for me. You’re not very good at hiding it.” i wish gifs were easier to add in here cause right here i’d add in the gif of beyoncé winning the album of the year grammy like HELLO?????

“Your entire world comes crashing around you, though you suppose that you shouldn’t be too surprised. You had just let yourself hope beyond reason that he would never pay you any attention.” genuinely id try to disappear beneath the floorboards id be SO embarrassed

“and ten years your senior.” who cares about that,, NOT ME!!!!!

““But I do!” he interjects suddenly, his head shooting up to look at you with wild eyes. His entire face was bright crimson red.” evilly smirks,, i’ll literally bend over right now don’t test me

“and now I can’t go a single second without thinking about putting you over my knee! It’s driving me insane! I can’t even look at you!” DO IT DO IT DO IT RAHHHHHH 🦅🦅🦅

“Then do it.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. Soobin looks just as shocked at your proclamation as you were. “If you want to do it that bad, do it.” YESSSSSSSS

““Do you really want this?” He breathes, voice low, his breathing hard” YES. “the outline of his cock presses hard against your stomach through his slacks, making it considerably hard to focus on the words that came out of his mouth.” AHHHHHHH OH MY GOD

i think i just died.

“Use your words like a good girl.” i’m literally that girl singing against the wall right now. every christina aguilera and demi lovato song combined.

“That’s for being a fucking tease,” Soobin states, soothing your reddening flesh with a soft caress of his palm. “Being so fucking hot all the time and driving me crazy because I thought I could never have you.” my nose is literally pressed to my phone right now and i have the biggest smile

“You’re on the verge of tears from the red-hot stinging in your ass, but you still giggle at his words. “You’re kinky.”” SHE SOOOODJDHFHSBCBD😭😭 me riling him up so he can slap my ass more and harder

“You relished pushing him as far as he would go; you relished losing.” she’s so me

“Soobin grabs a handful of your hair and yanks hard, making you gasp loudly and your empty pussy flutter. Leaning down close to your ear, he lets out a warning growl; “I said fucking count.”” literally dripping right now

“Oh bunny, if this is too much there’s no way you’ll be able to take my cock…” let’s test it😁😁

“Soobin’s other hand, the one that had been stroking your hair, then comfortingly up and down your back, rises up to smack your ass, the sudden burst of stinging pain making you scream, and for real this time.” can you imagine passing his office and hearing all of this

“Can I please suck you off, sir?” about to give him to bj of his LIFE

“nearly as thick as a can and twice the length of one, throbbing veins making your mouth water.” me measuring this out: DAMNNNNN #needthat

“The hardwood against your cheek does nothing to muffle your loud, unabashed shriek, so he improvises by shoving two of his thick fingers past your open lips” OH MY GOD

HELLOOOOO??? that was so good oh my god???? i love the build up to it and how she progressively got more and more obsessed with him lmao,, i also like the subtle glimpses that he felt the same way about her too, like her saying how he wasn’t going to notice her reading the book since she sat in the back and him immediately noticing her, karina and giselle talking about how he looks at her and stares at her ass, yeonjun and chan saying how he never shuts up about her… like it’s so perfect

ANDDDDD soobin doing a whole 180 once he found out that she wanted him in the same way he wanted her too!!!! like literally so good, so delicious, i need him SO bad

hehe you ate once again!!! i’m so happy that you reworked this and that i finally got the chance to read it!! the rework is so so so good!!~~

CAUGHT BETWEEN THE PAGES ⋆˚࿔ 최수빈

your professor catches you reading a not-so-safe-for-school book in the middle of his class. in an effort to make things better, you fear that you may have just made them worse.

⧼ 📖 ⧽ 一 pairing ⸝⸝⸝ professor!choi soobin ✗ student!fem!reader includes ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ beomgyu and yeonjun of tomorrow x together, dino of seventeen, giselle and karina of aespa

genre ⚬ ⚬ ⚬ smut, fluff, porn with plot, comedy

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ teacher/student, age gaps, power play, light dom/sub dynamics, switch! to soft dom!soobin, masterbation (f. rec), erotic literature, explicit language and sexual content, spanking, cumming in pants, dirty talk, pet names, praise kink, name calling (slut), wet dreams, impact play, oral (m. rec), facefucking, deepthroat, big dick soobin, doggy style, sex on furniture, unprotected sex, creampies, talk of contraception (reader is on birth control), alcohol mentions, drinking and partying, hair pulling, size kink word count. 12. 2 k | ⧼ 📜⊹₊ ⧽ 一 to library.

[notes.] a rewrite of my first ever fic on tumblr, study night! this is a romanticization of student/teacher relationships where both parties are consenting adults, but it is important to note that these relationships can be problematic in real life due to one parties authority over another's and unstable power dynamics. thank you to @jellymochii, @biteyoubiteme and @beomiracles for proofreading! reblogs and feedback are very appreciated <3 i hope you enjoy!

YOUR LINGUISTICS PROFESSOR embodies everything you find detestable in a teacher. His classes are a monotonous drone of information, devoid of anything exciting or engaging, though that might not be entirely his fault with how boring the subject he teaches is. He rarely deviates from whatever script he had thrown together— no doubt just the night before, from the way he rambles and stutters— and he absolutely refuses to entertain any questions or foster any interesting discussion. He never accepted late assignments or gave any extensions, his tests are ridiculously hard, and he’ll dock points off your assignments for the tiniest, stupidest reasons. Sure, it’s a difficult course, and it’s important to your major, but you swear he seems to take some kind of pleasure in making his students miserable. Each class feels like an eternity, and often you find yourself counting down the minutes until you can escape the insufferable, suffocating atmosphere of his classroom.

Yet, for some strange, inexplicable reason, you find yourself absolutely obsessed with him.

Maybe it was because you spent your time in his class focusing more on him than any of the words that came out of his mouth. His irritatingly handsome, angular face and his pouty, kissable lips, how he turns red and gapes like a fish out of water when he’s talking himself into a corner or is asked a question he doesn’t know how to answer. His big veiny hands and how they look when he waves them around animatedly, filling your head with thoughts of how they would look caressing your body. His tall, fit body and how he towers over you whenever you come up to him, the way he has to lower his head to look you in the eye, a soldering heat bubbling in your belly from the way he makes you feel so small. The way he loves to pepper his lectures with painfully unfunny dad jokes, and the way he gets all blushy when no one laughs. It makes you cringe, but in some odd way you also find it incredibly endearing. Sometimes you even catch yourself giggling quietly, stupid and u lovesick puppy. You can’t stand to be his student, but you dream at night about being something else to him entirely— it’s a paradox that drives you to detrimental distraction. How can you be so obsessed with someone you loathe? His perplexing combination of qualities was like some kind of mystery you felt compelled to unravel, at the very least to put your own mind at ease.

That was when you found the novel. It was hidden in the romance section of your favorite used bookstore, squished between two old technicolor cover harlequin novels, it’s dark and simple spine juxtaposing against all the bright colors and ornate fonts. It intrigued you enough to pull it from the shelf and look it over, your cheeks heating up as you take in its cover. A headless, well-dressed man sat in a chair with his legs spread invitingly, the smart suit he was wearing disheveled and his undone belt held tightly in his hand, the leather strap resting against his inner thigh. The title Lessons in Attraction was printed where his head would be, vague but provocative enough to make your stomach flip. The man immediately reminded you of Professor Choi, from the way he was dressed to the prominent veins in his hands, and when you flip the book over to read the synopsis you understand the connection. It outlines the story of a steamy romance between a strict economics professor and his teaching assistant, an innocent, young virgin who wants nothing more than to please. It was as if the author had plucked your deepest fantasies straight from your head and printed them out on paper, then planted the book in the perfect spot for you specifically to discover. You knew just from skimming through the pages that reading it would only do you more harm than good, but you just couldn’t put it down, drawn to the story like an addict needing a fix. You hid it in your stack of textbooks, and you refused to look the cashier in the eye as they checked you out.

At first, you had intended to keep it hidden in your bedroom, only to be read late at night when your roommates were either out or asleep. But as your obsession with your professor continued to deepen, so did your obsession with the novel; soon you found yourself taking it with you everywhere you went, reading snippets whenever you had the chance and quickly shoving back into your bag anytime someone would walk by or glance over at you. Your dreams devolved into graphic, vivid replays of your favorite dirty scenes, with Professor Choi in the place of the professor from the story. You wake up hot and bothered every morning, and his class becomes even more difficult with your head now full of illicit, naughty fantasies. Everything he does makes your belly swirl with need, even something as simple as running a hand through his hair or adjusting his glasses�� you can’t even bare to look at him, and instead try your hardest to focus on whatever boring tangent he was rambling on about… until you caught yourself fantasizing about how his deep voice would sound whispering dirty words in your ear.

You couldn’t take it anymore. Professor Choi’s lectures were beginning to feel more like sick torture— you needed something to keep you distracted before you went insane.

So, against your better judgement, you started to bring the novel to read in class. You sat far enough in the back that you were certain he wouldn’t notice, and your poor classmates were too bored out of their minds to look your way. It was easy to keep it hidden away tucked in your lap, so you could pretend to be writing in your notebook while you read. Something about it excited you, reading about fucking your professor with your real professor standing there in front of you, none the wiser. Being able to admire him as you indulged in your secret desires. If he caught you, you would be humiliated, but you would be lying if you said that the thought didn’t excite you a little too…

“Miss L/N, what are you doing?”

You nearly shoot straight out of your chair, your professor’s sudden call of your name shocking you out of your reverie. You had gotten so absorbed into your novel that you had forgotten to check to see if he was looking your way. “H-huh?”

“You keep looking at your lap.” Professor Choi remarks, peering up at you from his spot at the podium with an unamused frown. His thick-rimmed glasses made his pretty brown eyes appear even larger than they already were, blinking up at you like he was studying you through a magnifying glass. “You’re not on your phone, are you? You know I have a no-tolerance policy when it comes to electronics.” [GU1] 

“Oh! No, sir, I’m just…” your startled gaze bounces back to the book in your lap, and you swallow nervously. “Reading.”

“Reading?” Professor Choi echoes, raising his brow. “What are you reading? I assume it’s not the textbook, from the look on your face.”

You blanche, trying your hardest to appear nonchalant as you snap the book shut and shove it down into the recesses of your school bag. “It’s nothing!” You reply far too quickly, sounding guiltier than sin.

Professor Choi blinks, his magnified eyes raking over your sweating face before trailing down to your bag, clasped protectively in your lap.

“Give it to me.” he orders curtly, stretching out his hand.

Your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. “What?! W-why?!”

“Reading anything that isn’t the course material is against my class rules— I have it printed clearly on the syllabus, though with how you can never seem to pay attention I wouldn’t be surprised if you missed it when I went over it at the beginning of the semester. I would recommend looking over it again to see if there’s anything else you’ve forgotten. Now, get up and hand me that book.”

The entire class has turned to look at you now too, dozens of pairs of eyes fixated on your every move. The silence is absolutely deafening. Your heart races and your hands tremble as you squirm in your seat, trying desperately to come up with some sort of escape as if you were in a horror movie; you might as well be, because out of all the ghouls and monsters you can think of, this has to be your worst nightmare.

You consider refusing. Technically, Professor Choi couldn’t force you to do anything you didn’t want to— hell, you could walk right out of the classroom right then and there if you really wanted to, with both your book and your dignity intact. After all, you were a grown adult paying to further your education out of your own pocket. Trying to confiscate your belongings as if you were a child was borderline insulting.

But you can’t risk your grade over something like this, as embarrassing as it was, and you wouldn’t put it past him to penalize you in some way for defying your orders. You were already struggling as it was, partly because of how difficult the coursework was and mostly because of how you could never concentrate whenever Professor Choi was around. To make matters even worse, passing was a requirement for your degree. Getting even more on his bad side than you already were simply not an option.

It takes every ounce of energy you have to force yourself to stand up out of your seat and trudge down to Professor Choi’s podium, clutching your novel against your chest like you were clutching pearls. He has to pry it out of your hand with a considerable amount of force, because you can’t seem to loosen your fingers around the cover.

You scamper back to your seat, but not before turning back to see Professor Choi eye the cover with a startled expression. It would have been comical if you didn’t feel like you were seconds away from throwing up all over your desk.

He places it gingerly face-down on his desk like he was handling a dead fish, and you’re both grateful and horrified that he noticeably avoids making eye contact with you when he steps back up on his podium. “You can come by my office later to get it back, Miss L/N. I have a free period at six.”

“Yes, sir.” You answer glumly, staring at your shoes.

Luckily for you, he dismisses the class only a few minutes later, muttering about something to do with grading papers. You’ve never ran out of that lecture hall so fast in your life.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” your friend Beomgyu asks when you walk by him in the hall, backpack and skateboard in hand without a care in the world. “You look live you’ve seen a ghost or something.”

You stop just long enough to realize that you were still running, even though you had made it nearly halfway across the building. “I’m so fucked.” You state simply.

“What? What happened? Did you do something to piss off Professor Choi again?”

“Yes. No. Kind of?” you cringe inwardly. There’s absolutely no way you’re telling Beomgyu about any of what happened; he’d laugh at you to the point you fear you might actually start crying. “I don’t want to talk about it. I gotta go.”

You shuffle away before he can respond, and while you feel bad ignoring him as he calls out to you in confusion, you’re focused solely on finding somewhere quiet and empty to hide out until your next class. And maybe grabbing an iced coffee or something. Just to drown out the tears as you wallow in your own misery.

Against all odds, you manage to make it through the rest of your classes. The wait was almost worse than getting caught, barely able to sit still in your seat as you panic inwardly for hours on end. If it was Professor Choi’s intention to psychologically torture you, he wildly succeeded.

And you’re absolutely sure it was, because the first thing you see once you step into his office is your professor lounging back in his chair reading your book.

“Professor!” you yelp.

Professor Choi glances up from your book, a mischievous glint shining in his eyes as he sends you a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, Miss Y/N! You’re just in time. I was just flipping through your book here, it seems awfully… interesting.”

You gulp, your trembling hands clutching the strap of your bag in a vain attempt to ground yourself. “Um, sir!” you squeak, rushing to his side to glance over his shoulder at what page he was on, praying to whatever god that will listen that he hasn’t read anything raunchy. “I think it would be best if you, um, didn’t read that…”

“Oh?” Soobin flips the page and quirks his brow, not even sparing you a second glance as he adjusts his glasses, “What do you mean?”

You rack your brain desperately for a good enough excuse, but you can’t think of anything other than just how mortified you were, watching helplessly as your professor’s keen eyes scan over the pages. “Can I have it back now?” you say instead, your voice small and shaking.

“Surely you can wait just a little longer— now I’m dying to know why you don’t want me to read this.” Professor Choi’s crooked, dimpled smirk infuriates you.

Was there any possible way that you could talk your way out of this without telling him upfront that what he was holding in his hands was an erotica, one about a teacher and a student no less? You shuffle nervously, stumbling over your words as you try to stutter out something, anything, “You, um… you wouldn’t like it.”

He turns his head to look up at you again, the look in his eye sharply changing when he takes in your frightened state, into something you don’t recognize and aren’t sure you like. “How can you be sure I wouldn’t enjoy it? I’m a fan of many different genres of literature, though I’ve never read anything quite like this before. Is it some sort of romance novel? If it is, you don’t have to be ashamed, Miss Y/N. I’m sure many young women such as yourself read these sorts of novels, though I strongly discourage reading them while I’m in the middle of a lecture. It’s simply disrespectful. Now, where was I?”

He trails his finger down the page as if he was looking for his place, and you bristle. “Sir, seriously, don’t—!”

“I followed my professor to his office, watching with bated breath as he rounded his big wooden desk.”  Professor Choi reads aloud. You barely stop yourself from screaming, instead letting out a sort of pained choking sound. “He stopped to stand behind me, looking down my shoulder as if he were looking over my essay just as I was. I had made three errors in my writing, each one circled in bright red ink. He seemed more upset about it than usual.”

“Professor, please.”

“’Put that essay on my desk.’ he said, so I did.” Professor Choi continues, ignoring you. He had gave the professor character a stupid, high pitched voice when he spoke, which would have been funny if you weren’t so humiliated. “’Now bend over with your elbows on my desk, so that you are looking directly at the essay. Keep your face very close.’”

“Stop it! Just let me have it!” You hated to talk to him this way, but if he continued reading any further… it took everything you had to keep yourself from running out of his office and crawling into the nearest ditch to die in.

“That’s not how you should speak to me, Miss Y/N. Now you certainly aren’t getting it back.” Professor Choi retorted, his evil little smirk growing even wider. You wanted to hit him, or kick or scream, but you couldn’t do anything except stand there and try your hardest not to cry. “I was puzzled, but I followed his instructions, bending over the top of his desk so that my chest, belly and arms were pressed against the hardwood. My nose was merely a centimeter or two away from the letter, which made it difficult to read. My skirt was starting to… to slide up the backs of my thighs, but I was sure that if I moved to tug it back down, I would just get into even more trouble.”

You grimace when Professor Choi’s voice broke, his smile slowly starting to slide off his face. But he did not stop reading. “’Now read the letter to yourself. Read it over and over again.’ My professor said. I read: “In today’s rapidly evolving global landscape, the integration of technology in…” and at the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he— he… um… Oh.”

You began to feel less like wanting to die and more like you were actually dying. Professor Choi stared hard at the pages for a painfully long moment, his ears turning bright cherry red, but to your surprise and absolute mortification, he began to read aloud again. His voice had dropped that cheerful quality, however, sounding winded as if he had been hit upside the head. “At the word “integration”, which I had misspelled, he reeled his arm back and spanked me hard. I stopped reading with a loud gasp, shocked— the sting reverberated through my core, fiery hot, and despite my embarrassment I began to soak through my panties. At my silence, I was spanked again, even harder. ‘I said read it.’ My professor reminded me. ‘Be a good girl and follow instructions.’”

Professor Choi shut the book closed abruptly and looked up at you with a very red face and wide eyes. The tears that had been pooling in your lashes threatened to spill down your cheeks, so overcome with fear and embarrassment that your stomach turned like you were going to be sick. That was just what you needed to top off this already life-ruining experience, wasn’t it; vomiting all over your professor after he uncovers your darkest, dirtiest secret.

“This is extremely inappropriate material to bring on campus.” Professor Choi finally says, his voice wavering.

“Yes, sir.”

“And that relationship, it’s… wrong. It’s against the university’s code of conduct. I— he could get fired for that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You shouldn’t be reading this. It’ll put... thoughts in your head that don’t need to be there.”

“…Yes, sir.” Part of you wants to argue with him, remind him that you’re an adult and can read whatever it is that you would like, but you don’t have the strength to.

He sighs heavily, like something important is weighing on his mind, and he hands you back your book before turning back to pour over the scattered, forgotten papers on his desk. “Go home, Miss L/N. And get rid of that book.”

You turn tail and scamper out into the hall, but you can’t help but glance back into Professor Choi’s office as you leave. He’s hunched over his desk with his elbows resting on the wood, his fingers tangled in his dark hair as he rests his head in his hands. It seems like something is bothering him, something bigger than grading papers or your stupid, silly book.

You don’t stick around to find out what it is.

The next morning, you receive a rather hastily written email from Professor Choi telling you that he’s cancelling classes for the rest of the week. He’s come down with a cold, he claims— you and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach know better than to believe that.

You don’t see him until next Monday, but even then he might as well not have shown up at all. He struggles to get through his lesson plan even more than usual, and he wouldn’t look away from his papers or the projector, even when one of your classmates raised their hand to ask a question. You spent the entire period gathering up the courage to go up to him after his lecture, but when you do he brushes you off with a lame, half-baked excuse about having papers to grade and no time to talk, grabbing his things in a rush and scampering out of the lecture hall before you can call out for him to come back.

The pit in your stomach opens up into a black hole, swallowing up everything except for overwhelming, gnawing anxiety. It’s eating you up inside, manifesting itself in how you’ve chewed your lips until they bled, and then bit your nails down to the quicks— anyone with eyes could see that something was weighing on you, and you became increasingly tired of all your friends asking if anything was wrong, so once you were finished with your classes you took to hiding out in your dorm room curled up on the couch, your favorite fluffy blanket wrapped around you as you sullenly binge-watched a k-drama you’ve seen a thousand times.

While you were more of a homebody, your two roommates were much the opposite. Karina and Giselle loved to go out and party. Tonight was no different, the two of them flittering around the dorm as they got ready to go out to some club, and while they had given up on trying to get you to join them a while ago, something about the way you moped about seemed to reinvigorate Karina’s desire to get you off of your ass and out on the town. She knew you better than anybody, and immediately she could sniff out that something was off.

“Why don’t you come with us? You can borrow one of my dresses.” She offers, rummaging through her collection of high heels. “It’s a Friday night, everyone’s out! We can dance, we can find some boys to take home; it’ll be fun. You look like you need some.”

“I don’t need to have fun. I need to study.” You reply solemnly, scowling, but you make no moves to get up off the couch. It was a shitty excuse even to your own ears; it was obvious you didn’t have any plans to do anything tonight except feel sorry for yourself.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” She huffs. You don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. “Something’s bothering you and you won’t even tell me or Gigi what’s wrong. Don’t you think a drink or two would be good for you? You can vent to us all night, too. I promise we’ll listen.”

“I don’t know if I even want to tell you about it.”

“Why not? We’re your best friends, Y/Nie. You can tell us anything, even if it’s stupid or embarrassing. If it’s bothering you this badly, it’s clearly something serious.”

You peer out from under the blanket to look over at Karina— the worry in her eyes makes your heart sink. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t even consider taking her or Giselle up on their offers, but the way you were stuck running circles inside your head was far from normal. “You promise not to laugh at me?” She smiles warmly. “Nope. But I promise I’ll hear you out regardless.”

The loud, thumping bass reverberating throughout the club did very little to help ease your pounding headache. Your temples throbbed with every beat, the pressure so severe it felt as if your skull was just moments away from splitting in two. You don’t think you’ve ever been this uncomfortable in your life; the dress that Karina gave to you was a size or two too small, the shiny fabric so tight around your chest that you gasp for air. It would be difficult for you to breathe even in properly fitting clothes, the air hot and heavy from the throngs of sweaty bodies that surrounded you. You felt claustrophobic, the crowd closing in on you and threatening to swallow you whole— the only place to escape was to the bar, but even there you’re bombarded with flashing lights, deafening music, and the overlapping voices of everyone around you. You have to strain your ears to make out what Giselle was saying, and she was just on the barstool right next to yours.

“Aren’t you glad you came?��� She giggles, sipping on a brightly colored cocktail. She had ordered a round of them for all three of you, and the amount of alcohol mixed in them felt like a sucker punch to the face, even with all the sickeningly sweet grenadine the bartender had used to try and mask the flavor. You watch in abject horror as both she and Karina downed them one by one like they were water.

“No.”  you reply honestly.

“You will once you tell us what’s going on with you!” Karina interjects from your other side. “I meant it when I said I wanted you to vent to us, let it all out and give us the tea! Aeri’s dying to know.”

“It’s really embarrassing…” you admit, staring forlornly down at your own drink. “I’d rather just forget all about it.”

“It can’t be that bad. You didn’t drop your pants in front of everyone or anything, did you?”

You cringe. “God, no. It’s not like that.”

“Then it’s nothing you can’t tell us about.” Giselle shoots you a smile over the rim of her glass.

“It’s… it’s about Professor Choi.”

“Our linguistics professor?” Karina cocks her head. “Isn’t he the one you have a massive crush on?”

Your cheeks flush, your drink becoming even more interesting as you avoid looking at either of them in the eye. “Maybe.”

“Ugh, your taste in men is the worst.” Giselle snickers. “I don’t understand why you like him so much. He’s such a dick.”

You fight down the urge to defend him— for some odd reason, you feel a surge of protectiveness over Professor Choi, even when you completely agree with what Giselle is saying about him. “Yes, I like him, but that’s not the point. The point is that I totally fucked up and now I think he hates me.”

“What did you do?! Please tell me you cursed him out, he fucking deserves it.”

“No, Gigi, oh my God.” Even the mere thought of doing something like that sends shivers down your spine. “He caught me reading during class.”

“…That’s it? You’re freaking out over that?” Giselle blinks.

“It’s what I was reading that’s the problem.” you lament miserably, gathering your courage with a sip of your disgusting cocktail. “I have this book; it’s about a teacher and a student… getting together, if you know what I mean. It’s really dirty… and he caught me reading it in class. He took it, and then he read it himself right in front of me! He thinks I’m a freak. It’s been two days and he won’t even look at me.”

Karina and Giselle stare at you.

“Why the hell were you reading a smut book in class?!” Karina gasps, her dark glittery makeup making her wide eyes look even wider. “And one about a professor, too— were you trying to get caught? There’s better ways to go about telling him that you want to fuck him.”

“I don’t know— I was bored and stupid, okay?!” You had been asking yourself the same question for days, mentally beating yourself to a pulp every time it crossed your mind. “I thought he wouldn’t notice me since I sat in the back… now he’s going to tell the dean, and I’m going to get expelled, and—”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Giselle stops you in your downwards spiral, grabbing your shoulder to ground you. “You’re thinking too hard about this. He’s probably just a prude. If he was going to do something like that, he would have probably done it by now. Plus, I don’t think that’s really something you can be expelled over.”

You lean into her touch, resting your head on her shoulder as she pats your back comfortingly. “He’s mad at me…” you whine petulantly. “I was trying to get that TA position, too… fuck, I’m so screwed.”

“What would he be mad at you for? Being horny?” Karina laughs, “It’s really his own fault for snooping in your stuff.”

“I think you’ll still get it.” Giselle supplies helpfully. “You’ve really got nothing to worry about. Sure, your grade sucks, but I’ve seen the two of you talking in the hallway before— the way he looks at you is insane. And the way he looks at your ass when you leave is even crazier. You just showed him that you feel the same way about him that he does about you.”

“Don’t say that.” You groan. “You think that about every guy I talk to. There’s no way in hell that Professor Choi feels anything for me except hatred.”

“If you’re really that worried about it, you can always just apologize.” Karina says, drumming her long nails against her glass. “It might not do anything, but it’ll make you feel better.”

That was the first bit of real advice either her or Giselle had given you in a while, even if it left a bad taste in your mouth. “I don’t know. I feel like that would just make things worse. I need to go to the bathroom.”

You scramble off the barstool in a rush, teetering on your heels— you weren’t even that tipsy, but every step made you feel like a newborn deer. Karina and Giselle watch you hobble away in pity.

You stumble through the crowd in search of a bathroom sign, quickly getting lost in the sea of bodies. There’s little room to move around, everyone pressed up against each other dancing, too intoxicated to notice you trying to politely squeeze by. They jostle and knock you around, and you nearly trip over your own wobbly feet multiple times. Your headache grows nearly unbearable, your desperation to find an escape leading you to start pushing people out of the way so you can continue to move forward. One particularly drunk woman nearly knocks you to the ground, and she shoots you a dirty look over her shoulder when you shoulder past her roughly. You hate to be rude, but you’re teetering dangerously close to your breaking point. You need to find some peace and quiet, and fast.

But all of that goes out the window when among the countless bobbing and weaving heads, you spot a frighteningly familiar pair of broad shoulders.

“Professor Choi?!” you call out in shock, shoving your way towards him. “What are you doing here?!”

Without his suits and big clunky glasses on, you almost don’t recognize him. He was leaning back against the wall with two men who you vaguely recognize as other professors at the university, talking and laughing amongst themselves with beers in their hands. You admire the curve of his tall nose, the way his pronounced collarbones peeked out from the loose linen shirt he wore, the first few buttons undone to show a delicious strip of tan skin. His dark hair, usually gelled back to show his forehead, was left fluffy and untamed, framing his pretty brown eyes. He jumps a little at your voice, turning away from the men to look at you.

His eyes widen sharply, moving slowly from your face down to your chest. They linger there for a moment, blinking owlishly, before he tears them away from you completely, the tips of his ears turning bright red.

“Oh, um. Hello, Miss L/N.” he stutters, suddenly very interested in the state of his shoes. You make a quick mental note to thank Karina later for convincing you to squeeze yourself into this stupid dress.

“Oh, this is Y/N?” One of the men slurs gleefully, a grin stretching across his handsome face. There was a certain hunger in the way he undresses you with his fox eyes, scanning you head to toe like a predator. You could tell from his flushed pink cheeks that he was very drunk. “I’ve heard all about you! It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

Something odd flashes in Professor Choi’s eyes and he jerks his head to shoot his friend a deathly glare. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“You’ve… heard about me?” you cringe, your heart sinking. Out of whatever Professor Choi had to say about you, none of it could be anything good.

“Oh, not much, just that you’re one of the brightest students that he’s ever taught.” The other man cuts in, chuckling. He tips his head back and takes a swig of his beer, flashing you his sharp jawline. “One of his favorites to have in class, he says.”

“Such a smart head on those little shoulders! You should consider taking my econ course next year, it’d be a gift to see your pretty face in my class.” The first man adds, his crooked smirk widening.

“Yeonjun, Chan, please.” Professor Choi grits out through his teeth, anxiously running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, what did you say, Miss L/N?”

You splutter as your lips refuse to form words. You?! The brightest student he’s ever had?! That was just a complete and utter lie; if it wasn’t for Giselle helping you with an extra credit assignment you had practically begged him on your knees for, you would be failing his class spectacularly. You couldn’t fathom why Professor Choi would say something like that to these two men, when nearly every class he was scolding you for being late, distracted, forgetting your deadlines, a combination of all three and more. Not only that, but with what had transpired the other day still fresh and stinging… they had to be saving face or making some kind of sick joke. As you collect your thoughts, you half expect them to start pointing and laughing.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, peering up at Professor Choi’s blushing face. He avoids meeting your eyes, just like how he was in class.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy the start of my weekend?” he retorts, fiddling with the pull tab on his beer. “Clearly, you’re doing the same.”

He spits out the words like they left a bad taste in his mouth. It stung like an insult. “I thought you said you were busy.” you assert, biting your lip to keep from scoffing. The liquor giving you a little too much courage; he was still Professor Choi, even if now standing in front of you he looked like just any other guy.

“I… was.” He mumbles, “And now I’m not anymore. It’s really not any of your business.”

It takes everything you have to keep from blurting out that your book really wasn’t any of his business either, but you manage to hold your tongue.

“I’m sorry, I just— Sir, I need to talk to you.”

 “There’s nothing to talk about.” He says matter-of-factly. It’s far from what you were expecting him to say.

“What do you mean?” you challenge, your annoyance starting to turn sour. “It’s about the other day.”

Professor Choi continues to play dumb, though he keeps throwing sidelong glances to his coworkers. “What about it?”

“I want to apologize.” You bite hard on your lower lip. For doing nothing wrong.

Professor Choi’s eyes snap up to meet yours, inky dark irises wide in shock. “Y/N—”

“Apologize?” Professor Choi’s friend— Yeonjun— butts in, raising an eyebrow. “What happened?”

All the color leaves Professor Choi’s face, even the blush that was slowly trailing from his cheeks down his neck. He awkwardly clears his throat and averts his gaze, putting on a show of cupping his ear and pretending to be confused. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over all of this noise! If you have a question, I’ll be in my office tomorrow afternoon. Go on and have a good night.”

“Wait, Professor—!”

“Have a good night!”

It takes you a long time to find your way back to the bar, drunk, defeated, and stewing in your own thoughts. You’re pleasantly surprised to see that Giselle and Karina have been sat waiting for you all this time, but you don’t have it in you to feel happy or grateful as you plop yourself back onto your empty barstool. Their irritation quickly shifts to confusion and worry, both shooting you odd glances as Karina tentatively hands you another cocktail.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you get lost or something?”

You take a long sip, the disgusting sweetness and the bitter liquor overpowering your senses enough to calm your racing thoughts. “I think I’m going to go and talk to Professor Choi tomorrow.” is all you say.

“If you fuck him, please put in a good word for me.” Giselle slurs drunkenly in reply. “I need to pass that fucking class.”

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you, Miss L/N?” Professor Choi whispers in your ear, his deep voice dripping with honeyed venom. The fabric of his dress shirt ghosts over your back, his body so close that you can feel the heat radiating off his skin. He has you trapped against his big wooden desk, bent over it obscenely with your ass in the air as you whimper and squirm. Your skirt and panties pool at your ankles, leaving your most intimate areas exposed for him to view. Your leaking pussy quivered from the icy cold air, your hole clenching desperately around nothing and aching to be filled.

“I’m sorry!” You mewl, voice wavering.

“You didn’t answer my question. What are you sorry for?” he presses, so deliciously condescending in the way he feigns ignorance, “Apologize to me properly and tell me what it was that you did.”

“I’ve been bad, sir. I was reading during your lecture, and I’m sorry—”

“Oh, you weren’t just reading.” Professor Choi scoffs, straightening himself up and off your back. He rounds the desk to circle you like prey, his slow methodical steps echoing throughout the quiet of his office. They echo in your ears and strike a dizzying mix of fear and anticipation in your heart.

“I-I was reading smut and…” your face burns hotter than the sun, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath to will yourself to have the courage to admit what it was you were caught doing. “…And I was touching myself.”

“You’re going to have to be more specific than that.” He stops to stand at your side, his mere presence hovering above you enough to make you shudder. “Tell me exactly how you were touching that slutty little pussy.”

His words go straight to your core, making you squeeze your thighs together in need. Just a little friction was all you needed, and the edge of his desk granted a great opportunity… but as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t let yourself give in to desperation and grind yourself against Professor Choi’s desk like a dog in heat. He would notice immediately, and it would only worsen your punishment.

“I was… I was rubbing my clit through my panties.” you admit ashamedly, “Grinding against my fingers. I was going to put one inside but you… you stopped me.”

“I could see your hand up your skirt all the way from the back of the class.” Professor Choi spits, his carefully controlled demeanor cracking and his wild, untamed anger boiling to the surface. “It’s like you’re trying to get the two of us caught. You’re lucky no one else was looking… or was that what you wanted? Did you want everyone to see what a slut you are?”

“N-no!” you gasp, but the idea gets you even wetter; you wanted nothing more than for everyone to know that he was much more than just your professor, that he was yours and in turn you were his. “I’m a slut j-just for you, no one else!”

“Fuck, that’s right.” he groans lowly, his voice dripping sex. He picks up a long wooden ruler off his desk, right by your head, and points the tip at the nape of your neck. It ran slowly down the curve of your spine, a ghostly barely-there touch that left a trail of fire erupt across your skin. He stops at the plush swell of your ass, gently caressing your flesh with the cold wood. “You’re all mine. My favorite little student. You just need some discipline to put you back in your place, hm? Show me what a good girl you can be and count for me.”

He rears his arm back, poised and ready to strike. You can hear the ruler whooshing through the air, sharp and fast as he swings his arm forwards—

Your eyes snap open with a gasp. Suddenly, you’re back in your bedroom, curled up safe and sound in your bed, groggy and disoriented as you slowly come back down to reality. While you dreamt about Professor Choi often, never had one felt this vivid, this real. You can still feel the echoes of his touch, the phantom pain of his ruler against your asscheek haunting you like a ghost. Your panties are soaked through completely, sticky arousal pooling in the fabric and dripping down your thighs, creating a wet spot on your sheets. You toss and turn to try and go back to sleep, but it’s no use; you’re so horny you can’t think straight, can’t ignore the dull throbbing in your core.

As your hand slides under the waistband of your panties, you decide that enough is enough.

You were at your breaking point. Your life had spiraled completely out of control in the span of just two days, all because your stupid puppy-love crush of a professor had to be nosy about your reading material. He just had to find a way to humiliate you even more than he already did, didn’t he? He could’ve just given you your book back and the two of you could have gone on with your lives. He shouldn’t have even taken your book in the first place! You could have continued fantasizing about him from the back of the class, not a worry in the world, instead of losing precious hours of sleep and mentally beating yourself up.

And after your interaction at the bar, you feel even more ridiculous. If Professor Choi truly had the intention of telling someone about what he had caught you reading, wouldn’t he have told the other professors that he was with? And lying to them about you being his smartest student…  you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

It was clear that Professor Choi didn’t want to talk about it. But even if he wants to pretend like none of this ever happened, you just couldn’t.

There was simply no other way for you to get over all of this other than finally confronting him. You needed to make the endless spiral stop, tell him exactly what was on your mind and finally put this to bed. The longer you stew over everything that has transpired, the more your fear and anxiety boils over into anger. This was all Professor Choi’s fault! You needed to give him a piece of your mind, or you don’t think you’ll ever be able to move on.

Professor Choi doesn’t answer until after the fifth knock, his face immediately dropping once he swings open his office door to see you standing there in front of him. His hair is a mess and his clothes are disheveled, his tie half undone and his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Anxiously he adjusts his glasses, the wide brown eyes behind them looking like a cornered deer’s. “You actually came over to apologize?” He blurts out before you can even open your mouth, genuine surprise taking over his features. “I didn’t think you—"

“Actually, no, I’m not here to apologize!” you declare, the words spilling out before you gave yourself the time to second guess yourself. You had lied awake until the sun came up thinking about what to say, and you weren’t going to let those wasted hours go to waste. “I’m here to tell you, sir, that going through my book was an invasion of my privacy! And that it’s none of your business what I read! I’m an adult, not a child, and I can do whatever I damn well please!”

Professor Choi blinks owlishly, staring at you in stunned silence for so long that your newfound confidence falters and you begin to shuffle nervously.

“Oh. Um… alright.” He finally says.

“Alright?!” you echo incredulously, your irritation coming back in full swing. “You’ve been avoiding me for days and all you have to say for yourself is alright?!”

Professor Choi’s eyes flicker around anxiously, and it suddenly hits you that you were yelling at him in a public hallway. “I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

“Yes you do!” you shriek. This really wasn’t how you were planning on any of this going, but it was far too late to turn back. You open your mouth to continue your rant, face burning hot with unbridled rage, but Professor Choi quickly grabs your wrist and roughly pulls you into his office. The sudden act shocked you into silence, your eyes wide and mouth agape as he drags you all the way back to his desk. 

“Listen.” He growls, his voice octaves deeper than you’ve ever heard it before. “You’re acting way out of line right now. Don’t you dare ever talk to me like that, you understand me? I’m still your professor, even when we’re not in class. You’re to treat me with respect—”

“Then you treat me with respect first!” you retort, though you do manage to calm yourself down enough to lower your voice. “Playing dumb and refusing to talk to me after humiliating me in front of everyone! What was even the point of doing that? Was it just for your own sick pleasure?!”

“Y/N.” Professor Choi sighs, the second time you’ve ever heard him call you by your first name— the first was at the club, but you were far too distracted to dwell on it. “I know you have some sort of feelings for me. You’re not very good at hiding it.”

Your entire world comes crashing around you, though you suppose that you shouldn’t be too surprised. You had just let yourself hope beyond reason that he would never pay you any attention.

“What I’m trying to say is… Y/N, you need to stop it. Get rid of the book. I can’t be with you, it’ll never work, okay? I’m your teacher, and ten years your senior. There’s plenty of college boys around campus for you to ogle over instead.”

“You say you can’t but… do you want to?” you ask quietly, barely above a whisper.

Professor Choi doesn’t meet your eyes. “I could get in a lot of trouble, Y/N. You could too.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.” You challenge, a hopeful spark igniting in your chest. He didn’t say no… and you may be looking too into things, or just clinging onto hope, but that was more than enough proof to you that your professor was hiding some feelings of his own.

“We can’t do this.” He mumbles, his voice growing wilder, more defiant.

“Sure we can! I’m an adult, you’re an adult… did I scare you away with my book or something? Look, it’s okay if it wasn’t up your alley. There’s nothing wrong with being vanilla, Professor. You don’t have to, like, spank me or anything—”

“But I do!” he interjects suddenly, his head shooting up to look at you with wild eyes. His entire face was bright crimson red.

“You… wait, what?” you must have misheard him. That was the only explanation, surely; There was no way he actually—

“I can’t stop thinking about it! I thought there was no way you’d be into anything like that, that I needed to stop thinking about you and move on like a professional, but then you go and pull this, and now I can’t go a single second without thinking about putting you over my knee! It’s driving me insane! I can’t even look at you!” 

“Professor—”

“Soobin. God, just call me Soobin. I can’t handle you calling me that right now.”

You open and close your mouth a couple of times, surely looking like a fish out of water— This was the absolute last thing you expected to come out of your professor’s— Soobin’s—mouth. Your eyes bulge out of your head, your face burns hotter than the sun… your pussy clenches pathetically. It felt like you were in a dream, almost, which might have been why you suddenly felt so brazen— if you wanted him, and he wanted you, who were you to deny him?

“Then do it.” you say, voice barely above a whisper. Soobin looks just as shocked at your proclamation as you were. “If you want to do it that bad, do it.”

He moves in a flash, giving you no time to prepare— within seconds has you thrown over his lap on his office swivel chair, your hair hanging in your face as you blink wildly at the floor. Soobin brushes one of his big hands against you skirt-clad ass, barely a brush of his fingers, but you still gasp all the same.

“Do you really want this?” He breathes, voice low, his breathing hard—the outline of his cock presses hard against your stomach through his slacks, making it considerably hard to focus on the words that came out of his mouth.

It takes you a moment, but you manage to choke out a whiny “Yes, sir, please.”

Soobin stutters out an uneven breath, his fingers inching down to the hem of your skirt, teasing the tops of your thighs for just a moment before pulling the fabric up to expose your ass, a noticeable wet spot present on your panties.

“So pretty…” He coos. You can feel his cock twitch against your stomach, those long knobby fingers trailing along the edge of your lacy thong. “Is it okay if I take your panties off, bunny?”

You whimper and nod your head— Soobin lands a gentle love-tap to the junction of your thighs with an airy chuckle. “Use your words like a good girl.”

This couldn’t be happening. You had to be dreaming, or hallucinating, or something, anything except truly living through this fantasy come to life— Boring, bland Professor Choi, the biggest prude you thought you knew, was just way too good at this, at making your legs shake and your pussy throb all the while barely touching you. In just an afternoon your reality had shifted from thinking that he had to be the world’s biggest loser virgin to thinking that he was even sexier than the professor in your book.

You weren’t sure how to feel about it, but your cunt did. 

You must have stayed silent for too long, because without much warning Soobin lands a much harsher spank to the top of your asscheek. “Bad girl!” he admonishes, and you can hear the teasing, dimpled grin in his voice “C’mon baby, use your big girl words. Tell me how much you want it.” His hot breath fans over your ear— you couldn’t hold in your moan even if you tried, the broken whine sounding weak and pathetic even to your own ears. 

“P-Please, sir… please take my panties off. Please spank me.” you whimper, your face beet red and your pussy drooling— Soobin’s deft fingers stroke slowly up and down your folds, feeling the wetness seep through the cotton fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep from screaming.

“That’s my good bunny.” You could hear your panties rip as he tears them off of you in one solid motion, the biting cold air meeting your hot soaking cunt and making both you and Soobin hiss. He admires the slick leaking down your thighs for a brief silent moment, deep breathy voice cooing at the way you arch into him and his touch, before he straightens back up and lands a stinging, eye watering spank deliciously close to your core. You yelp at the sting.

“That’s for being a fucking tease,” Soobin states, soothing your reddening flesh with a soft caress of his palm. “Being so fucking hot all the time and driving me crazy because I thought I could never have you.”

You hadn’t realized that this was confessional. Shooting him an evil smile over your shoulder, you giggle, “You could’ve just asked.”

Another spank, this time with even more force. Your hips buck with a shrill cry spilling from your open, panting mouth, your eyes watering— you had no idea Professor Choi was this strong. He refuses to give you any time to prepare, never warning you when the next hit to your ass will come. “I didn’t say you could talk back.” He growls.

You’re on the verge of tears from the red-hot stinging in your ass, but you still giggle at his words. “You’re kinky.”

Soobin just rolls his eyes, spanking you again, albeit a little softer. “And this one’s for being a brat. How about you start counting for me, bunny? That’s one.”

“One?! You’ve hit me four times!” Maybe you were pushing it too far, but it just came naturally to you to fight back, make him work for your submission and obedience. You relished pushing him as far as he would go; you relished losing.

Soobin grabs a handful of your hair and yanks hard, making you gasp loudly and your empty pussy flutter. Leaning down close to your ear, he lets out a warning growl; “I said fucking count.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been this wet in your life. Torn between bucking your hips into Professor Choi’s bulge and pushing back into the touch of his hand, you give a quiet, watery whimper of “One…”

The hand holding your hair lets go, your head falling limply over his knee. “That’s my girl.” He coos lowly, stroking your head.

It distracts you enough that the next harsh slap to your ass feels even more intense than any of the others before it. “T-two…”

“That’s for being so fucking disrespectful. And in front of my colleagues too, no less. It’s like you were asking for me to ruin you.” Soobin tsks. “You need to learn to watch your mouth.”

The urge to say something smart tugs at you again, even if just to prove his point, but another spank rains down on your sore, bruising asscheeks before you can seize the opportunity.

“T-three!”

“And that’s… that’s for pushing me to put you over my lap in the first place. You couldn’t just leave it alone, could you? And now look at you, making me risk my job to teach you a lesson.” Soobin’s voice wavers, filling with an emotion you couldn’t quite place— it was extremely difficult to focus on his words when his fingers began to trail down the curve of your ass to your sticky, quivering folds, rubbings the tip of his thumb right over your clothed core. You moan unabashedly, shifting your hips and opening your legs to give him better access to what was peeking out between your thighs.

The fifth spank never comes. Soobin tugs your panties to the side and pushes two long, thick fingers between your folds, stuttering out a low moan like he was the one being touched. He starts a rough, dizzying pace almost immediately, his fingertips searching for that spongy spot inside of you. You grind your hips back against Soobin’s fingers, a drooling mess against his slacks.

“Pr-Professor…” you whine high in your throat — you want more, want him to speed up, slow down… his touches were driving you wild. You hadn’t been touched like this ever before.

“I told you not to call me that.” He hisses, curling his fingers against your sweet spot and making you keen. “Please, call me by my name.”

“Soobin!” you cry out, writhing against him. You felt a passion rising within you like the hottest fire, clouding your brain. You couldn’t think of anything except of the pleasure that he gave you, couldn’t utter out anything other than his name.

“Such a slut, falling apart just on my fingers…” he chucks huskily, enamored with the filthy wet sounds your cunt made and how they echoed through the quiet office. “I’ve thought about doing this for forever, God… you’re just as beautiful as I thought you’d be.”

His thumb, wet from your arousal, comes down to rub tight, delicious circles against your sensitive, engorged clit, your strangled wail no doubt loud enough to be heard from the hallway. The building ecstasy distracts you enough for him to push in a third finger into your tight hole. The stretch burns but you love it, your hips kicking and moans growing louder and louder as he effortlessly takes you apart. 

“...Too much…!” you manage to choke out, digging your teeth into the fabric of Soobin’s slacks to keep yourself from screaming out in bliss. You felt full to the brim, pushed closer and closer to the edge with every rough flick of your clit and thrust of his perfect talented fingers. He teases a fourth finger around your leaking, stretched out rim, the threat of it alone enough to make your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh bunny, if this is too much there’s no way you’ll be able to take my cock…” 

The tears that had been brimming in your eyes start to stream freely down your burning cheeks, choked hiccups and sobs wracking your body, but it was the most pleasurable agony you had ever been in. Your hips move with a mind of their own, bucking against Soobin’s cock, thick and hard as a rock, only seeming to grow bigger and bigger every time you rub against it. You relish the sharp intakes of breath he takes every time you move against him. He was starting to fall apart too, you could tell, his voice sounding a lot less dominating and a lot more whiny and pathetic with each roll of his hips up into your tummy.

“I’m gonna… gonna make you cum on my fingers,” he whines low in his throat, his hand completely soaked in your arousal up to the wrist. “You gonna make a mess for me?”

His fingers dig impossibly and wonderfully hard into your sweet spot, that white-hot band of desire in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with each perfectly aimed thrust. You wail and sob, your hand reaching back to grab a tight fistful of his shirt sleeve. “I-I-m— ‘m gonna cum!”

Soobin’s other hand, the one that had been stroking your hair, then comfortingly up and down your back, rises up to smack your ass, the sudden burst of stinging pain making you scream, and for real this time.

 “You gotta ask first, bad girl! Gotta ask for permission b-before you cum…” His voice starts to break, his hips stuttering helplessly— the feeling of his big fat cock grinding hard against you only added to the fire in your belly. 

“Can I cum? Please, sir, can I cum? I’ll be a good girl, I promise, just let me cum!” you had no control over your mouth, hardly any conscious at all— all you could focus on was the tightening in your belly, the way Soobin’s fingers thrusted in and out of your pussy so good… you were his brainless whore, fucked dumb on his fingers. 

“Shit, go on honey, my good girl, my bunny… cum all over me, make a mess!” with his permission you let yourself topple over the edge, moaning and whimpering like a whore as you soak your thighs, Soobin’s hand, his shirt and slacks with your juices. You lay across his lap twitching for quite some time afterwards, your chest heaving like you had just run a marathon… you’d never come before like that in your life, not as hard or for as long. Soobin was with you the whole way as you come down from your high, sweet as can be as he coos praises into your hair and pats your back, kissing your head when you raised it to look over your shoulder at him.

Slowly, you realize that you no longer feel his bulge poking at your belly. You release your iron grip on his shirt to slide your hand down his chest and abdomen, all the way down to gently cup his very wet crotch. “Sir…?”

“S-sorry, bunny… couldn’t help it…” he turns his head away from you to hide his glowing red face, but you can see how his blush spreads down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

“Did you just… cum?” you ask in awe and disbelief, looking down to see a dark stain spreading across the fabric of his slacks. Soobin only mumbles in response, refusing to answer or turn back to look at you, his blush growing an even deeper shade of red. It was all the confirmation you needed.

Professor Choi came in his pants like a virgin without you even needing to touch him. Something about that alights a blazing inferno in your core, your senses overtaken with need even though you had just had an orgasm yourself.

“I want to taste it.” You breathe out, your overwhelming desire eclipsing any rational thought and taking control of your words.

“Y-you… what?” his head snaps back to you in surprise, his eyes wide and clouded with lust as they gaze headily into yours.

“Your cum, wanna taste it, want it on my tongue…” you’ve never spoken like this to anyone, your voice not feeling like your own— the words spill out from between your lips mindlessly, desperate for more of Soobin’s brain numbing pleasure as you rub him through his slacks. His cock twitches underneath your fingertips, beginning to harden again from the ministrations. “Can I please suck you off, sir?”

“Fuck.” Soobin moans, rough and deep in his chest, the sound shooting straight to your sensitive pussy. “Yeah you can, naughty girl, come on, get on your knees and suck my cock. Clean up my mess.”

Your entire body feels limp and weak, not wanting to cooperate with you as you slide off of Soobin’s lap to the floor. It takes great effort to get yourself situated, kneeling on the floor with your unsteady hands grasping at his thick thighs. He widens his legs to give you more room to get comfortable, one of his big hands instinctively coming down to tangle in your hair as your own begin to slide up the insides of his thighs towards his straining belt buckle.

Ever so slowly and meticulously you unbuckle Soobin’s belt, the jingling of the metal buckle as it’s casted aside like music to your ears. You pull his pants and boxers down together in one rough tug, Soobin canting his hips to help you guide them down his thighs. His cock springs free and slaps obscenely against his belly, smearing the light fabric of his dress shirt in his thick, viscous cum. You can’t help but stop and stare, enamored by the sheer size of it— nearly as thick as a can and twice the length of one, throbbing veins making your mouth water. Cum still leaks from his angry red tip, fat and bulbous, the entirety of his length wet and shiny down to his heavy, twitching balls and neatly trimmed pubes.

You kiss the tip with a delighted grin, the contact barely-there but enough to make Soobin throw his head back and whimper in delight. Your tongue peeks out from between your lips to slide across his slit, earning a high-pitched needy hiss from the man above you, his long fingers tightening their grip on your hair as you lick down his dripping shaft. His thick, salty cum tastes like ambrosia on your tongue, the delicious bitterness quickly getting you drunk. You can’t stop until you lick him completely clean, and even then it’s impossible for you to pull away, the feeling of his weeping cockhead heavy on your tongue far too addicting. Greedily you suck him into your mouth, relishing in the way his girth stretches your lips before swallowing him deeper and deeper until his tip knocks against the back of your throat. You can hardly fit your hands around him, let alone your mouth, fisting what couldn’t fit down your throat as you start bobbing your head. More broken tears collect on your lashes and drip down your wet cheeks, looking utterly ruined and wanton as you gaze up from between Soobin’s legs into his hazy, unfocused eyes.

The eye contact is too much for him— his eyes roll back in his head with a whimper and his cock twitches violently inside of your mouth, the grip he has on your hair shifting from guiding your head along his shaft to tugging you off him with a sudden and disorienting strength. He pulls you off him with a wet pop, a foamy string of saliva connecting from his shiny cockhead to your needy whimpering lips.

“I’m gonna cum again if you don’t stop,” he pants, gasping for breath, “I gotta fuck that pussy first, bunny, please. Need to feel that tight cunt squeezing around me.”

“D’you wanna cum inside?” you goad, a lustful, mischievous grin overtaking your features, “Don’t worry, Soobin, I’m on the pill. You can fill me up if you want to.”

Your words make him visibly shake, what was left of his flimsy resolve crumbling right before your eyes, leaving nothing but primal hunger. “Get on the fucking desk.”

You obey immediately, hardly able to contain your excitement as you stumble to your feet and bend over Soobin’s big oak desk, wiggling your ass in the air invitingly. Your skirt and panties were still pulled up and pushed aside, exposing your dripping puffy hole for his eyes to feast upon.

“So pretty…” he croons behind you, his hands caressing your hips and waist. They smooth over the exposed globes of your ass, his fingers fiddling with the gusset of your drenched panties. Sheer pink lace that compliments your flushed skin, looks so delectable running through Soobin’s fingers as he grabs your asscheeks and spreads them wide. “You look so cute in pink.”

he hisses in appreciation at the sight of your dripping hole quivering, sliding a finger down between your pussy lips to circle at your engorged clit. “Holy fuck, you’re so wet,” he groans, accentuating his claim with a flick of his hand— your pussy squelches obscenely, the lewd, pornographic sound making your cheeks flush. “I can’t take it anymore, I have to be inside of you— you can take it, right bunny?”

“Please!” you beg, hardly able to string together a sentence, “Please, sir, put it in, I need it so bad, need your cock—”

You’re interrupted by the feeling of his cockhead slapping against your entrance, Soobin running the leaky tip up and down your slit a few times just to hear your little whimper before burying himself inside to the hilt in one smooth thrust. He rams into you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs, his long fat shaft stretching out your hole much more than you could have ever been prepared for. The burn is indescribable, overwhelming every single one of your senses in the best way, your tight gummy walls gripping his cock like a vice as the both of you struggle to adjust.

He's so deep inside of you it feels as if he’s poked through your cervix and into your womb, his big fat mushroom head snug right beneath your belly button. You’re so deliciously full that it makes your head spin, already fucked completely brainless before Soobin had even begun to properly move.

“Does it hurt?” he asks you softly, so gentle compared to how he carved out your insides. In any other circumstance you would find it sweet that he was this concerned, but you were certain that if he didn’t start moving inside of you right then and there, you were going to die.

“More.” you croak back in response. “Give it to me.”

With a winded groan, Soobin relents. He pulls his cock out until just the head was inside of you, giving you not a single moment to prepare before slamming back in with a force that knocks you further up on the desk. The hardwood against your cheek does nothing to muffle your loud, unabashed shriek, so he improvises by shoving two of his thick fingers past your open lips, the musky tang of your own juices filling your mouth when you suck hungrily at the digits. He set up a punishing rhythm within seconds, his hips clapping loudly and wetly against your ass while he muffles your whines and wails. His heavy balls smack against your oversensitive clit with every rough thrust, sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure straight to your core. The desk cuts into the skin of your hips painfully, but if anything, it only adds to the burning sweetness building steadily in the pit of your belly.

“F-fuck, I’m close already!” Soobin puffs against the shell of your ear, pressing himself up against your back— you’re suddenly thrown back into your dream from the night before, the way the sensations were eerily similar yet nowhere near as good as the real thing. “Gonna cum inside you, is that okay? Wanna see how pretty your pussy looks dripping my cum.”

You can only drool in response, your thoughts fragmented and scattered, babbling desperate nonsense and rolling your hips back to meet Soobin’s thrusts with a dizzying force. Your body vibrates with liquid fire, heating your puffy cunt and quivering thighs— faster than ever before were you hurtling towards your climax, that familiar tightening in your core growing harder and harder to bear. You wanted nothing more than to yield to the tide, let it overtake you completely, and in turn pull Soobin down with you.

Your professor was going to cum inside of you. The fantasies that had haunted you for months truly became a tangible reality. What did you do to make you so lucky?

“This slutty pussy’s sucking me in so fucking tight,” Soobin groans, his thrusts growing sloppier, “Tell me you want my cum, baby, come on. Who’s cum do you want inside of you? Tell me and I’ll give it to you!”

“Yours!” you shriek with the last remaining bits of your energy, your words nearly incomprehensible to how you sniffled and sobbed around Soobin’s fingers. “Want your cum— my professor’s cum inside of me!”

You took a gamble, but it was just what he wanted to hear. With one last aggressive thrust, Soobin bottoms out inside of your pulsating cunt, his bulbous cockhead kissing your battered cervix as he cums with a broken cry. The sensation of his sticky, hot seed splashing against your insides is just what you need to tip over the edge yourself, your walls clamping down on him and milking him for all he’s worth as you ride out your own climax with long, surrendering moans. He hisses from the overstimulation, but he makes no movements to pull out, letting himself soften inside of you as you both struggle to catch your breaths. Thick viscous globs of your mixed cum leak out from where you’re connected, dripping down your thighs and Soobin’s balls to collect in a puddle on the floor.

You gaze over your shoulder to watch as Soobin slowly and carefully pulls out, a creamy, foamy white ring formed around the base of his cock. His glasses were fogged up from his heavy breathing, his hair and clothes even more a mess than it was when he had first opened the door, his pink face so irritatingly kissable when he shoots you a nervous dimpled smile.

You cant help but giggle at him.

“You’re not going to… tell anyone about this, are you?” he asks you anxiously, opening one of the desk’s drawers to retrieve a packet of tissues.

“As long as you explain to me why you told those other professors that I was your best student.” You reply smartly, your grin widening when he scowls.

“It was the only way I could think of how to explain why I talk about you so much.” He admits shyly, wiping down the mess between your thighs. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d rather if we continued that charade so it doesn’t look suspicious when I ask you to come to my office every once in a while.”

“Will you give me that TA position then?”

“You technically don’t qualify,” He laughs, “but I thought that was a given.”

“You won’t regret bending the rules a little, I promise.” You tell him with a wink and a smile. The love-stricken, goofy dimpled grin he shoots back at you makes your heart soar.

“I know I won’t.”

𝒯O𝔐ORROW X 𝒯O𝒢E𝒯HER 𝒯A𝒢L𝒾S𝒯 ⪼

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[grandline-fics]

Hey, hey, hey. I'd love a love potion with katakuri if that inspires you and you have time for it 💕💕

DESCRIPTION: Love Potion- You were both only pretending to date. The feelings aren't real...right?

WARNINGS: none come to mind.

CHARACTERS: Katakuri

WORDS: 1,598

A/N: Thank you for this request @strawberry-000 this one got away with me and I hadn't intended it to get as long as it did. This is my second time writing Katakuri but I hope it was to your liking ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

The smell of baking filled the streets of Hakuriki Town. Intoxicating smells perfectly blending together to create the constantly sweet and indulgent atmosphere that kept all the residents in a warm and happy mood. Well maybe not all. Sadly you couldn't exactly join the others around you in their positivity and cheer when you were trying to keep yourself restrained and polite. All you wanted was to just work but instead you had to suffer the annoyance of a coworker standing a little too close and being far too persistent.

“So we both finish our shifts at the same time today.” He began while you glared down at the dough you were kneading expertly. Quickly you forced your expression into one of false calm. You were newer to this bakery and the one trying-and failing- to charm you was the Boss’ favourite. The last thing you wanted was to cause problems and make waves this early. “What do you say you and I go for a well-deserved drink?”

“Oh that'd be fun!” You said with false enthusiasm. You’d refused him so many times already by feigning tiredness or pretending to feel unwell that you needed to try something different. Today’s tactic: ignorance of his intentions. You turned to face him with as sweet a smile you could muster as you put the tray of dough into the oven. “I’ll let the others know and we can make a night out of it. I think we could all do with a work outing after how busy this week has been, don’t you?”

“It’d be kinda awkward bringing the others on a date though.” He laughed, completely sidestepping your plan with ease. “The last thing I'd want is to make them uncomfortable, y’know?” You held back the urge to punch the man in the face. He didn't want to make the rest of your coworkers uncomfortable but had no problem doing it to you if it meant you went on a date with him? Taking things up a gear you blinked at him in surprise. 

“Date?" you repeated innocently. “Oh…I thought you were only asking me out as a friend. I'm sorry but I'm not single.”

Oh you wished you could have fully savoured the bewildered and disappointed look on his face but you were too busy training your expression, appearing apologetic for the misunderstanding. You wished it hadn’t come to this; having to lie about your love life in order to get him to back off but if it meant he stopped asking you out it would be worth it. Then your eye twitched minutely to see your coworker’s confidence slip back into his features. Even that statement wouldn’t deter him from his pursuit. “You're seeing someone? Is it serious?”

“It’s still new but I’m very happy with them.” You explained while moving to grab ingredients to start work on the next batch of pastries. Your boss hadn’t spotted you and your coworker’s idle chatter but if they did, you’d be the only one to be lectured. Not giving them the chance you set about work while gnashing your teeth in frustration, feeling your coworker follow close behind you. You could feel the questions brewing on his tongue and tried to get ahead of it, in the hopes of finally killing the conversation you never wanted to be a part of in the first place. "So happy in fact I don't think he'd take kindly to hear someone else wants to date me.”

"Who is he? I think I could win a fight against him for your affections.” The bold declaration brought a sharp laugh from your lips before you could stop it. Everything already pointed to this guy thinking he was amazing at everything but you knew to look at him he was certainly not a fighter. Quickly you cleared your throat and decided you may as well commit to the lie fully. You needed to think of someone not even his ego would compete with while also being someone who he wouldn't directly have any involvement with. You couldn’t work out why it was the first name your mind conjured but it was out of your mouth before you could come up with anyone else. "It's Katakuri.”

For the rest of the day your coworker left you alone, creating as much distance between you both as possible. Your plan had worked too well. He didn’t question you at all because only someone with a death wish would falsely claim to be seeing a member of the Charlotte Family. When your shift ended you stepped out onto the street and let out a sigh of relief only to freeze at the sight of the Minister of Flour himself leaning against the wall of the building opposite your work. From the look in his eyes you saw that he knew. Was it some sort of sadism that he let you work for hours and finish your shift before ending your life? Somehow you felt enough strength return to your legs to carry you forward the last few steps until you were in front of Katakuri. “So…public execution or imprisonment?”

“Both seem like a harsh punishment.” Katakuri began as he stepped away from the wall and you couldn't help but grow still at how calm his deep, powerful voice was. You then became confused when his eyes slid from your face to look at something behind you. “All he did was ask you out but you set him straight.” Your eyes widened and you heard a panicked squeak behind you but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the man in front of you. “Had he touched you however, that would be a different conversation.”

You held back a gasp when Katakuri put his arm around you and pulled you into step to walk with him down the street. As light as the action was you could feel the immense power in his hand but you didn’t feel any fear. You felt reassured and protected but your mind was racing. Were you dreaming? What was happening? There was no point in asking how he knew about your lie because the Charlotte family ruled Totto Land, they were powerful enough to learn anything they wished. When you were far enough away from your work you managed to form enough thought to speak the one question you could ask. Nervously you glanced down at his hand still against your body. “Why did you play along?”

“It’s not really important is it?” Katakuri asked, you glanced up and saw that of what you could see of his face his expression was unreadable. “I could ask why you said my name but it wouldn’t really change things. The results are the same. Your coworker won’t bother you again.”

“That may be but that only works out in my benefit.” You stated with a small tilt of your head your curiosity only growing. “What could you possibly be getting out of this little charade?”

“Who knows?” Katakuri mused, watching your lips fall into a small scowl in dissatisfaction at the answer. “You work in a bakery right? Make me some doughnuts and we can say that’s my motivation to keep up your lie for as long as you need to.”

You blinked and let out a soft laugh. Katakuri had his own personal chefs and bakers that could make him anything he desired. Why he’d want your baking baffled you but if it meant he would continue to let you use him to get out of be asked out by people you had no interest in, it was a good trade. “Are you going to break up with me if they don’t taste as good as what you’re used to?”

“Only if they’re completely inedible.” Katakuri let out a small chuckle, amused that you felt so at ease around him to joke that way. He was already aware of how good a baker you were but he said nothing. The truth of the whole situation was that when he used Brûlée’s mirro-world to enjoy his merienda in peace, she kept the mirrors connected to Hakuriki activated so he could still ensure there were no dangers to the island he was in charge of. In that time one conversation caught his attention in particular because of how persistent and grating one voice sounded. He was subjected to hearing your get asked out again and again. Every time you patiently came up with something to end the conversation, your coworker pressed again and again to the point Katakuri became irritated on your behalf but that was just civilian problems. One of many minor grievances people had to deal with, hardly something that required his involvement. Then you conjured up his name as your boyfriend. He wasn’t going to lie, he had been impressed at that and to finally hear your coworker immediately shut his mouth Katakuri decided for that blessing you deserved a reward by legitimising your lie.

“This is me.” You spoke up, spotting your home come into view. “Stop by my work tomorrow and I’ll have your doughnuts ready for you.”

“I look forward to it.” Katakuri told you sincerely, watching you step out from his relaxed hold and walk towards your home to turn in for the evening. When you were inside, Katakuri couldn’t help but smirk underneath his scarf. He hadn’t fully known what to expect when he waited for you outside the bakery but now he was certainly interested in what was going to happen next.

——————————————-

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[captain-bubble-wrap]

Warnings | none

Word count | 5.1k

Summary | 6 years is a long time to go without talking to someone after they hung up on you. What do you do when that person messages you out of the blue?

Tagged cuties | @quinnsbabygirl @quinnhughesandqenthusiast @ruinix

- - -

"You just don't understand it, Quinn!"

"I don't? Really? Maybe you don't understand how it works! You don't own me, you know."

"I'm not trying to, but you keep playing with me!"

You were pacing around your dorm room, phone against your ear, deep in an argument with Quinn. He was less than four months into his rookie NHL season and you were starting another year at Michigan. Things had been rough between the two of you since he had left, but now it was so much worse. Talking to him was impossible, or rather, getting him to talk to you was impossible. He rarely texted your first, and if he did, it was to tell you that he was going on the road and just wouldn't want to be on his phone.

Trying to be in his life as much as he'd let you, you tried to watch as many games as you could while balancing class and work. Tonight, Vancouver had lost to the Lightning 9-2 in Tampa and you had just called to be there for him, and it had been a fight since he answered.

"Playing with you?" He scoffed. "You don't let me breathe, Y|N! You don't trust me! I can't do this anymore. I'm over it!"

You rolled your eyes, mouth open to interject just as soon as he was done. "Why would I trust you? You keep me shut out all the time! You have no idea how shitty you are in a relationship, Quinn. Go run around with the rest of your little fan club. Find one of them to screw around with! Don't call me--"

"Hadn't planned on it," Quinn said, interrupting you before ending the call.

That had been almost six years ago.

Quinn was enjoying some time off, down in Florida, around the holidays, trying to get over a hand injury that had been plaguing him for some time. It was late in the evening when he found himself alone in the hot tub, making sure he didn't drop his phone in the steaming water while he scrolled through his Instagram. He had connected with a girl based in Vancouver a few weeks ago and was about to DM her when something else caught his eye. Someone he hadn't thought about in years; someone he hadn't realized he was even still following.

The two of you had met in college; Quinn having enrolled the year prior. You were on the university's Equestrian Team, but it had been your shared Literature class that had brought you two together. You knew nothing about hockey, but Quinn had been more than willing to explain it to you, when you learned he was a star on the team. Everything had been so fun when you were together. However, that fun soon ran out when he left the States for Vancouver. Twenty-five hundred miles apart had been the biggest strain on your relationship, but the time difference, the unknowing, and the mistrust on your part had been the final nails in the coffin.

You had been nineteen, and he was twenty. Neither of you had any business in a long-distance relationship, let alone any kind of relationship built on a fast-paced attraction and no emotional foundation. However, you had taken everything he had done personally, as he had been only the second guy you had ever dated. You just didn't know what you were doing. That was something that you had realized much later in life, and you'd be lying if you hadn't wanted to reconnect with him, if just to apologize, but too much had happened, and you felt it was too late. His posts on Instagram still dinged in on your phone and you would view them when you were curious enough, but often times you'd just clear the notifications. Those days, between the two of you, had been so long ago, and you feared he didn't remember you anyways except for maybe a black spot in his memory.

Your hockey-watching days had come to and end when your relationship had bit the bullet, but you had heard from mutual friends, who remembered Quinn and who were avid sports watchers, that he had made some significant strides in his career with the Canucks. You were happy for him, sure, but the constant reminder of you having been with him had hurt too much and you wondered if it would just be easier to unfollow him. However, you never did. It wasn't like he posted that often, anyways.

It was nearing eleven in the evening outside St. Augustine, Florida. You were getting buckets ready for the morning's feedings when you phone pinged. Anytime your phone went off that late you always made sure to check it. Your parents always told you that calls after hours were never good news. Though, when you turned on the screen, you weren't expecting to see that notification.

Who had sent you a message? Did that say Quinn Hughes had sent you a message? The message read almost like spam, but the account was verified. So, if it was really him, then why? You hadn't spoken since the breakup. In fact, the last message had been from 2019...

Quinn Hughes: Hey, Y|N. I don't know if you even want to hear from me. I thought I might see how you were doing. I hope you're well. It would be nice to hear from you. (11:11pm)

You were in shock. Quinn, after all of these years, had actually reached out? Again, you wondered, why? He had all of these years and now, of all times? You thought on it for a minute, and the only conclusion you could come to was that he was looking for someone else and noticed you were still on his list. There was no other reason for him to notice you. Sure, your Insta account was active, you had a decent following, but you weren't being sought after by any professional athletes, by any means.

Quinn, on the other hand, while he waited for you to reply, if even at all, decided to return to your photos, and pick up where he had left off. He saw your two new horses, your sponsorship with Nikovian, the purchase of the barn in St. Augustine, but what stopped him from scrolling was the gold medal you had won at the Paris Olympics last summer. He remembered going to a couple of your shows back in college, but had no idea what was going on other than you were jumping things against a stopwatch. He found himself smiling at your picture without meaning to. He was taken aback by how much had changed since the two of you had been together. He couldn't get over the massive advancements to both of your lives: he was the captain of the Canucks, and you were a gold medal Olympian.

Twenty minutes you'd leave Quinn on read before you managed to figure out what you wanted to say to him. There had been so much you had wanted to say in the past that no longer carried the same weight as it did now.

Y|N: Well, yours was definitely the last name I expected to see flash up in my notifications. (11:35pm)

Quinn Hughes: I wasn't expecting to see yours either. I figured you had blocked me. (11:36pm)

Y|N: No, I never thought about blocking you. Deleting you, sure, but even then, I didn't do it. (11:40pm)

Quinn Hughes: Well, that's good. :) (11:42pm)

What was he doing? How were you supposed to respond to what he was saying -- how he was coming off? You wanted to be bubbly and excited to talk to Quinn, but considering that the last time that you talked to him had been when he had hung up on you, it was still hard to completely let that bit go. He seemed different, however, and how would he not be? It had been years; both of you surely had changed in big ways since that argument. The thing was, was that he had hurt you -- hurt you deeper than anyone else ever had. Not to mention he had never apologized. You knew you weren't blameless either. You hadn't reached out to him at any point in time to make amends, but you never disagreed that you weren't stubborn.

Y|N: Sorry-- I really don't know what to say. (11:45pm)

Quinn Hughes: It's alright. Honestly, the fact that you replied at all means a lot. :) (11:46pm)

You weren't oblivious, you could tell how quickly he responded to you -- the eagerness. You wondered if he was laying in bed, just watching his phone for your reply, wondering if you were doing the same. There were still horse chores to be done but every time that Instagram notification went off, you checked your phone. You felt like that little nineteen-year-old again which scared you slightly.

Quinn Hughes: Hey, I just noticed the time, I'm sorry if I'm keeping you up. (11:48pm)

Y|N: Just getting feed buckets ready for the morning, you're fine. (11:55pm)

Quinn Hughes: You're still working? It's midnight! :0 (11:58pm)

Y|N: I have almost 20 horses boarded here, so it keeps me busy. I don't always work this late but my lessons ran long this afternoon. (12:01am)

You found yourself in the tack room, laying on your back on the leather sofa. There was no denying that you were tired, but Quinn had you curious -- too curious to just end the conversation and go to bed.

Quinn Hughes: Wow, 20!? That's incredible! Knowing you, I'm sure the place looks like a magazine. ;) (12:02am)

Y|N, Ha, you're not wrong. I'd say you're welcome to come visit, but Vancouver is a bit of a trip. (12:03am)

Deciding to take a risk with the open door invitation, you noticed how fast your heart had started to beat. The instant regret ramped up when the notification that Quinn was typing -- making you quickly turn off your phone's screen to avoid him getting the "read" alert as soon as it delivered.

Quinn Hughes: I'm actually not too far away. Spending a little more time down home while I deal with something. (12:03am)

Y|N: Are you alright? (12:04am)

You couldn't help yourself feeling some sort of way about him, or about asking if he was okay given how he had worded his last statement. Self-control was becoming a slippery slope.

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, for the most part. Just a tendon issue. (12:05am)

Y|N: "Just" a tendon issue? (12:05am)

Quinn Hughes: Haha, fair point. I'm listed week-to-week at the moment. It's been bothering me for some time, but lately it's gotten worse. Just trying to give me some down time to get right before the 4 Nations in February. (12:07am)

Y|N: Hockey players with hand issues doesn't sound ideal! (12:08am)

Quinn Hughes: I would assume like a horse with a foot problem, lol. ;) What's the phrase you always said? (12:10am)

Y|N: No hoof, no horse? (12:10am)

Quinn Hughes: Yeah, lol. (12:10am)

You couldn't contain your smiles. How had him remembering the stupidest little thing bring a wave of emotion over you? Falling into a spiral of what-ifs, Quinn would double-text you which would snap you out of your delusional headspace.

Quinn Hughes: Would you really want to meet up? It's been a long time. Not sure if you were being serious or just said that to be nice. (12:18am)

It had now been over an hour since Quinn had messaged you for the first time in years, but it had felt like just ten minutes had passed -- somehow those six years felt like it had only been a week ago. The Quinn Hughes whirlwind was insane.

Y|N: Yeah, I meant what I said. If you want to come by, I'd love to show you around. (12:19am)

How long had it been since you used the word "love" and "you" in the same message sent to Quinn? It felt both foreign and familiar -- the warning lights were flashing behind your eyes, but the alarms were muted.

Quinn Hughes: Are you busy tomorrow? (12:21am)

Y|N: Tomorrow as in this morning, or actually tomorrow-tomorrow? (12:21am)

Quinn Hughes: Oh, lmao, right! ;) Tomorrow as in this morning. (12:22am)

Y|N: I'm always "busy" but I can make time for you. (12:23am)

Your throat tightened after hitting send on that message. You wanted to kick yourself in the ass for coming off like there wasn't any bad blood between you. Not that it was anything terrible, and you had grown since that moment, but that didn't mean you were still hopeful to talk to him about it -- clear the air.

Quinn Hughes: What time works for you? (12:23am)

Y|N: Whenever, really. I'll be here all day. (12:24am)

Quinn Hughes: Alright, well, I'll let you get your stuff done and I'll get with you in the morning for directions? :) (12:26am)

Y|N: Work for me~ (12:26am)

Quinn Hughes: Have a good night. :) It was nice to talk to you. (12:28am)

Y|N: You too, Quinn~ <3 (12:28)

By the end of the conversation, you felt like you were floating above the cushions of the sofa. Had you really made plans to see Quinn in the morning? For a fleeting second you wondered what the hell was wrong with you. You wondered what morning-you was going to think about your decision...

- - -

Sunrise had come too early. Your late-night chat with Quinn, and feed-prep had cut into your sleep, and you could feel the repercussions that morning. Regardless of how you felt, you had a job to do and a guest due in in a few hours. Hopefully that wouldn't turn into a mistake.

Just like he had said, Quinn texted you for the directions, at a much more reasonable time than he had yesterday.

Quinn Hughes: Morning. :) (8:04am)

Y|N: It's definitely morning, yep. (8:15am)

Quinn Hughes: Did I wake you up? (8:17am)

Y|N: No, I've been up since 5:30... (8:21am)

Quinn Hughes: I shouldn't have keep messaging you last night. I'm sorry. (8:23am)

"You'll apologize about that...really?" You thought to yourself.

Y|N: You're good. I could have just stopped messaging~ (8:24am)

Quinn Hughes: Fair point! (8:29am)

Y|N: Before I get too busy, here's the directions and the passcode for the gate. (8:31am)

Quinn Hughes: Gated, huh? LOL Thanks, I'll see you in a couple hours then. (8:36am)

Y|N: Be careful (8:39am)

Quinn Hughes: :) (8:40am)

- - -

Those two hours had come a lot quicker than you thought they would have. No sooner had you DM'd Quinn for the last time, your first lesson of the day arrived, and they were late. They were supposed to have been there at nine, but hadn't show up till closer to ten. Thankfully, it wouldn't affect your afternoon timeslots, but it was going to put you still teaching when Quinn arrived. Just one of those things that couldn't be avoided.

After imputing the code into the terminal, Quinn drove up the long, shaded lane until the property opened up to him. It was expansive, with numerous green pastures, white rolling fences, and several outlying buildings. Everything was perfectly manicured and matched from one side of the property to the other. Every building was the same shade of paint, the same style of doors, and even the landscaping. It was like a real-life drag-and-drop tool had been used. He had been right: it was straight out of a magazine.

Unsure of where to park --as he hadn't thought to ask about it-- Quinn pulled up to the house and got out. He was met with something that took him back several years: the sweet smell of fresh alfalfa, and the indescribable smell of horses. It was your place, for sure.

With hands in the pockets of his joggers, Quinn decided to wander towards the larger of the barns he could see on the property. Horses in the outside turnouts knickered and trotted up to meet him along the fences as he went past. They made him smile as he petted the noses of the ones who had been curious enough to see if he had any treats or not.

"Do you have a lesson?" Asked a little voice, pulling him from the moment with the animal. She couldn't have been much older than ten and looked at him with narrowed eyes, her hands on her hips.

"I, uh...no, I don't," Quinn replied, not sure how to approach the situation, resigning his hands back to his pockets as the horse nudged his shoulder.

"Well, you shouldn't pet horses that aren't yours! You don't know how to do it right! You'll get bit!"

"Emily, that's rude. You need to apologize," said the girl's father, deeply embarrassed by his daughter's outburst. "I'm so sorry about that."

Quinn laughed softly, "It's alright. Hey, actually could you tell me where Y|N might be?"

The little girl continued to side-eye Quinn harshly. "Are you her boyfriend or something?"

"Emily," the father said, unable to refrain from rolling his eyes at his daughter's possessive attitude. "Drop it, please."

Smirking, Quinn looked down at the grass for a moment before returning them to her disapproving features, "I used to be."

"You better not have been mean to her. I'll beat you up! Miss Y|N is the best!" She balled her right hand into a tiny fist before her father took her by the arm.

"That's enough! You do not threaten anyone for any reason. Do you understand me?"

"But--"

"Do you-- understand me?"

She gave a silent nod, still eyeing Quinn suspiciously while her father confessed his deepest apologies to him, expressing that he wasn't sure what had gotten into his daughter.

"This is a first. Please, forgive us. Um, I'm sure Y|N is still in the upper arena. Just follow that path there, and you can't miss it. Again, I'm very sorry about all of this."

Quinn had to contain his want to laugh, as the father and daughter returned to their SUV, the child looking over her shoulder at Quinn one more time. If looks could have killed... With the vague directions, he followed the paved, concrete path to the east and towards a very large building. He had to decide which door to take, and hope it would be the right one and not one that would put him face to face with a twelve-hundred-pound animal that wasn't expecting him to be there. Thankfully, he had guessed the correct one, and it would open up into a posh viewing area behind glass with numerous matching leather armchairs. Quinn thought to himself about how grand this whole property was and that he wondered if he should have dressed a little nicer.

The other people in the seating area gave him similar looks like the little girl from earlier. He, however, found himself locked onto you as you rode around the arena with the girl involved in the lesson. You looked like you had in your Instagram photos, but nothing had prepared him for how you looked in person. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been next to you, but there you were. His smile deepened when you came closer to the glass, but you didn't notice him. Quinn assumed it had two-way effect which allowed parents to see their kids, but the rider or the horse would be none the wiser to the distractions on the other side.

"Do you need help with anything?" Questioned one of the women in the room once Quinn sat down. "You don't look like anyone we've seen here before. How did you get in?" Her tone was of fake interest and niceness as was her smile.

"Just waiting on Y|N," he said softly, returning his attention to you. "I have the code for the front gate." He would miss the woman looking down her nose at his two-day scruff, wild curls protruding from his hat, and the relaxed look of his clothes. He didn't fit the aesthetic of the holier-than-thou equestrian elite and he didn't care. He was there for you and that was it.

The woman and her friend would leave before the lesson had come to an end, finally letting Quinn breath a sigh of deep relief. It was like the whole room had warmed ten degrees and the air didn't feel as heavy.

Eventually both horses exited the arena, leaving Quinn unsure of what to do now. He grabbed his phone and shot you a DM, hoping you would be around your phone before too long.

Quinn Hughes: Hey, I'm here. I'm in some kind of sitting room in the arena. In case a certain blonde tells you I'm here, I'm not looking to rob the place. :( (11:04am)

It would be fifteen minutes before you saw his message.

"Oh shit!" You muttered to yourself, checking your phone after getting the lesson horse returned to its stall. Without replying, you'd rush off towards the large building, stopping to collect yourself before you opened the doors.

"Hey--," you said, seeing him turn to face you. "I'm sorry you had to wait on me."

He stood up, already with a smile on his full lips. You didn't really expect him to look a certain way; you hadn't stalked his account like he had yours. You just hadn't had the time that morning to prepare yourself, but you weren't disappointed. His style was a stark contrast against your polished riding clothes, but you didn't care. He looked so comfortable and you were jealous. There was nothing comfortable about English riding gear. Everything was tight against the skin, restrictive, and painfully hot in the Florida heat.

"It's alright, I knew you were busy. You look--," he stumbled over his words. "It's great to see you."

Unable to keep yourself from smiling, you returned the warm greeting, "It's been a minute."

- - -

"Do you still have Tater?" Quinn asked as the two of you walked slowly through the stable.

You hadn't expected him to remember, "Oh! Tater Tot? Yeah, I still have him! I think he's turned out right now. C'mon, let's see if he's out here."

Leading Quinn through one of the side doors, he'd linger behind you for a moment before returning to your side. He couldn't help admiring the view, but didn't want to come off like a creep. It was hard for him to come to terms that all of this was actually happening.

"I'm shocked you remember Tater," you added, leaning against the white fence rails after whistling for the horse's attention. It wouldn't take long for the bay horse to come trotting from the back corner of the turnout.

Quinn laughed softly to himself, "Hard to forget being bitten."

"Oh, pfft, he got more of your hoodie than actually of you! I told you not to put those treats in your pocket."

"I didn't want to hold them, though," he smirked, reliving the full memory in vivid detail. "Think he'll remember me?"

"They don't forget, just hold out your hand."

Quinn gave you a look of disapproval before it melted to a shit-eating grin, "I'm dealing with enough hand issues at the moment."

"He's not going to bite you!"

Tater stopped just short of you, obviously looking for a reward for having been pulled away from his grazing. He towered over the both of you, and Quinn seemed reluctant to approach given his past with the animal.

"You said that the first time, too!"

Looking over, you'd laugh, because Quinn looked like a little kid scared to get any closer for fear of being eaten. You'd back off the rails and take him by the arm. The eye contact between the both of you, following the physical contact, left you both blushing. Quinn would extend his arm out on his own, but your hand wouldn't drop away from his body till the horse moved forward. You should have been enjoying the sweet moment, but all you were doing was internally chiding yourself for having been so upfront and touchy. He didn't seem bothered by anything, but you were for the both of you.

Once the horse was dissatisfied that he wasn't getting anything extra, he turned away and left Quinn and yourself alone in the awkwardness.

"See, I told you that you'd fine," you forced yourself to say, watching Tater walk away instead of making eye contact with Quinn for the time being.

He chuckled, putting his hands back in his pockets, "How long do you have until your next lesson?"

You'd have to look at your phone for the time. How had nearly two hours gone by already? "Oh shoot, um-- looks like I have a half-an-hour."

"That flew, huh?"

"Yeah..."

Quinn paused for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say, "Well, thanks for letting me come by. It was great to see you, Y|N."

"Are you leaving?" You were shocked to hear him saying his goodbyes so soon. "Did I say something wrong?"

"What? No, no! I just thought you'd want me out of your hair so you could get to work."

You looked away, feeling torn between two options, "You're welcome to hang around, Quinn, unless you have other places to be."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be in your way."

Shaking your head, you'd reassure him that you didn't mind if he hung around. He was welcome to stay out in the barn, the house, or just wander the grounds. He seemed happy to be told that he didn't need to turn around and head back to the lake house so quickly. Honestly, you didn't want to him leave so soon either -- not since this was the first time you had seen him in nearly six years. However, you couldn't let yourself be too excited. You still needed to talk to him.

- - -

The rest of the day seemed to fly by. Your afternoon lessons had been on time and went off without a hitch, and after the way the morning had gone, you were thankful. Quinn, funny enough, had spent the majority of your teaching time in your living room, asleep on the couch. You were so envious of the fact that he got a nap, considering it had been his late-night messages that had kept you from getting much sleep at all. Again, five a.m. had come quickly for you. Regardless, you knew you'd feel better with him driving home if he was rested.

Your two stable hands were helping you with feedings, when your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Quinn Hughes: Do you need help with anything? I feel weird just...hanging out in your house. (4:43pm)

Y|N: We're just finishing up, you're good, but thanks. Help yourself to whatever. I shouldn't be too long. (4:45pm)

Quinn Hughes: Are you sure? (4:46pm)

Y|N: Just don't drink all of my cherry wine in the fridge! LOL (4:50pm)

Quinn Hughes: Dammit! I'll just sit here then (4:51pm)

Y|N: If you're that desperate, you can come feed your buddy Tater. (4:55pm)

Quinn Hughes: I'm good! Like I said, I've already got one bad hand! (4:55pm)

Y|N: Suit yourself! ;) (5:01pm)

Another half hour would pass before you finally dragged yourself back to the house. Quinn was still where you had left him: on the sofa, but now the television was on, and tuned to the NHLN channel. (Go figure.) You thought to yourself.

"All done?" He asked as you planted yourself on the bench by the front door. It felt so good to sit down on something other than a saddle, because your back was killing you. The sigh that escaped your lips non-verbally expressed how tired you were; even a blind man could sense it, despite your head falling back against the wall.

"Finally," you breathed out.

Quinn frowned though you wouldn't see it. It pained him to see you so exhausted just sitting there. "Are all of your days like this?"

You'd pull yourself off the wall to finally look at him as you struggled to remove your riding boots. "Pretty much. Normally, I have a little more sleep."

It wasn't your intention to punch him in the gut like you did, but he remembered the early morning conversation that had kept you from your bed. "That's my fault, sorry."

"Oh, you're fine! It happens! I told you I could have just stopped replying."

"Yeah, but--"

Your second boot would hit the floor with a thud, almost interrupting him. You could tell your feet were going to swell... "Maybe I'll sleep in in the morning, ha!"

Quinn didn't know how to respond to your sarcasm and opted to just remain quiet.

"Don't feel bad about it, honest. It happens."

"I feel like I should get out of here so you can get an early night. Maybe we could get lunch tomorrow or something?"

You glazed over his wishes of leaving early to focus on his want to come back tomorrow. "You want to drive back down tomorrow?"

He looked like a deer-in-the-headlights, "I invited myself over again, didn't I?"

"No, it wasn't that! I'm just-- shocked, that you'd want...to make the drive again."

"It's just a couple hours."

"One way," you stressed.

"It's no big deal."

His smile took your breath away, prompting your heart to run away with your words, "Why don't you just stay if you're planning to come out tomorrow, too? If-- you want that is." You prayed he didn't see your blushing cheeks through the Golden Hour sun streaming through the living room's large windows.

"Oh, I couldn't--"

"There are plenty of rooms. It's not like you'd be putting me out. But, you do what you want." You dragged yourself to your feet and shuffled past him through the living room. The words you had picked made you feel like you were trying to gaslight him into saying. Best to physically leave that conversation for a glass of wine in the kitchen. However, you wouldn't be alone for long.

Leaning against the doorframe, Quinn had followed behind you. "You're sure?"

"I'd feel bad if you fell asleep driving..."

Thankfully his nervous laughter broke whatever tension was starting to form, "Yeah, I don't want that. Thanks."

"No problem," you replied, your back to him as you grabbed a glass. "Are you as hungry as I am?"

"Starving!"

"

[sailorscout93]

I’ve been inspired to add to this with what would happen when Glinda *DOES SUCCEED* by this post

This might get long so I’m putting it under a cut!

This is more just me headcanoning Elphie’s pregnancy rather than another incorrect quote but the Glinda in the picture and my Glinda from the incorrect quote above are the same person and you cannot tell me otherwise.

First of all: Fiyero was a part of the OG conversation because of course it’s actually a Thropple thing. He might not have been actively trying to get Elphaba pregnant, but Glinda was. (Whether or not Liir already exists in this universe as a Fiyeraba child, I’ll leave that up to you to decide).

After the conversation above was followed up with some ACTUAL conversation about having a child between all three of them, Elphaba decided that maybe a mini her and Glinda combo running around wouldn’t be so bad and actually put in some research into whether it would actually be possible to conceive a baby through magic. (Spoiler alert it was).

A few months of trying with *both* of their magic later….

Glinda may have passed out when Elphaba showed her the positive pregnancy test….

Luckily Fiyero was right there to catch her. (Even though he was also a little shocked that the magic worked!)

Once Glinda woke up after passing out at the pregnancy test she couldn’t believe their magic actually worked and they would soon have a little combination of the 2 of them in the house. She shot up despite Fiyero and Elphaba’s protests that she not stand up too fast and kissed Elphaba with all the passion her body could muster while she was still a little wobbly from being unconscious just a few seconds prior but Elphie knew what she was going for.

Glinda immediately went into overprotective mode. She wanted to know where Elphaba was at all times and didn’t want her to go anywhere without Glinda or Fiyero accompanying her.

But while being overprotective, she also became the most doting momsie to be. Not that Fiyero wouldn’t also be doting on their pregnant wife, but Glinda would make sure her wife would want for NOTHING. Keeping Elphaba and the baby happy and comfortable as possible would be her number one priority. Elphaba wakes up at 2 am to the baby doing summersaults on her bladder or kicking and punching her ribs? Glinda would also wake up, help get Elphie into a comfortable enough position, lean down and talk to or sing to her belly to help calm their little one down so their mama can rest. Cravings? Consider any food cravings hers! Whether Glinda goes in the bubble to get it herself or sends Fiyero out for it.

When Elphaba gets morning sickness Glinda refuses to leave her side. Rubbing her back, holding her hair, making sure she has stuff to settle her stomach. All the cuddles and kisses to make her feel better.

Elphaba reads all the pregnancy books and relays all the info to Glinda or just reads the book out loud while they cuddle. They all attend the birthing classes to make sure they’re as prepared as possible, but none of it mattered when the moment actually came. Glinda panicked. Just like when she passed out when Elphaba showed her the positive pregnancy test, she passed out when Elphie was pushing. Fiyero had to catch her AGAIN. Thankfully she woke up before the birth of their daughter.

Glinda may have said she wanted to carry the next one when she saw Elphaba holding/staring lovingly at the little light green skinned girl with blonde hair, deep chocolate eyes, Elphaba’s nose and freckles. Elphaba wasn’t too concerned about another one right away when she first said it…. Considering she had just given birth to this one like 10 minutes prior…. But if she had thought a few months later about Glinda pregnant with either her or Fiyero’s baby…. Well that would be something she might be willing to bring up again.

Gonna add a little bit of NSFW to the end of this because I can’t NOT do it. Am I little screwy in the head for it? Maybe. Do I care? Nope.

So after Glinda recovers from her fainting incident at the pregnancy test they celebrated later that night in a… Not so family friendly way…. We’re not even gonna attempt to count the number of times Elphaba came that night between her wife and husband’s ministrations

Elphaba and Fiyero had been using protection to ensure that she didn’t get pregnant by him (if Liir already exists then again) while she and Glinda were trying for a baby. Because the process took several months she went several months without him being able to fill her the way she wanted. So once she was definitely pregnant and it was safe to do so again having him come inside her made her so happy

Pregnancy hormones make Elphaba almost insatiable sometimes. This is one of those moments that having 2 partners able and willing to be jumped by her at random moments at all hours of the day is nice because at least one of them is almost always available to give her what she wants

As she gets further along in the pregnancy and moving in general becomes harder for her she becomes a little bit more of a pillow princess, less because she wants to, and more out of necessity if they want to keep doing things because she literally cannot go from laying to sitting up by herself without assistance sometimes.

Towards the end of the pregnancy Elphaba becomes insistent on wearing as minimal clothes as possible (for some reason I headcanon she gave birth during the summer so it was very warm in the final weeks of her pregnancy) because she was always hot and because it was hard to get clothes on and off working with her very round belly. It did make it very convenient to seduce her spouses though

Yes, they fucked the day she went into labor. 😂

I might come back one day with pregnant Glinda headcanons….

Elphaba: I started my period today.

Glinda: You’re not pregnant?!

Elphaba: No…?

Fiyero: We’re not trying to get-

Glinda: I’M TRYING SO HARD!!!!!

Fiyero: WHAT?!?!

Elphaba: You’re…. What?!

Fiyero: Glinda… That’s not how that works. You don’t have the right…. Parts to get her pregnant.

Glinda: But my magic….

Elphaba: Glinda. Your magic makes bubbles. Not babies.

Glinda: I’ll try again!

Elphaba and Fiyero: 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♂️

[cherryeclipses]

i love you, i'm sorry ☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

dean winchester x reader

part 2 here

angst, childhood lovers to enemies (potentially to lovers again), i love writing angsty dean I'm sorry. warning - I hardly edit any of my writing sorry

word count: 2.1K

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

cause that's just the way life goes ...

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

You were 16 when you met Dean Winchester, he and his brother Sam were new to your school. The moment you met you instantly had a crush on the boy, he was charming, funny, dangerous, and downright sexy. The only problem was every other girl in your grade felt the same thing, hell even some of the guys did. Dean had the kind of energy when he walked into a room all eyes were on him. It wasn't until a few months later when you would finally speak to him, it turns out his dad and yours were friends; hunting friends. Okay maybe friends is too much, more like acquaintances, they would help each other if they were hunting the same thing. John and your father had decided now that John was to be in your hometown for at least the next few months that the three of you kids could keep each other company.

The first time the three of you met officially it was a horrible stormy night. Something straight out of a horror movie, the rain was pelting against the windows, making them rattle, and thunder clapped so loud in the distance it sounded as though the apocalypse was beginning. John came over to your house with Sam and Dean to sit down with your father and go over the lore of whatever monster they were hunting now. "Darlin' you remember John Winchester?" Your dad said lazily, gesturing to the elder Winchester. You just nodded politely. "Well these are his sons, Dean and little Sam. " He continued. "I know, I've met them already." Both fathers looked at you confused for a moment. "I mean, they started at school last month. I think I have a couple classes with Dean." You shrugged, trying to play it off. You caught Dean's expression from the corner of your eye, he was smirking at you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

As the two men retreated to spend the night in the study you were left standing in the kitchen with Sam and Dean, awkwardly. "I'll show you both to the living room, we can order a pizza or something?" You turned on your heels and the boys followed you into the next room. You sat on one end of the couch, Sam on the other and Dean sat in the armchair across from you. Sam started flicking absentmindedly through the tv channels, trying to drown out the uncomfortable silence. "It must be nice to have a real home and don't have to move schools all the time." Sam spoke up. "Uh yeah, I guess it's alright. I mean it'd be even better if dad wasn't a hunter at all." You gave the young boy a sympathetic smile. You looked up to see Dean still staring at you, you couldn't tell if he was eyeing you off or judging you; but either way it looked like he was about to eat you. You felt your face heat up, your crush sitting meters across from you, in your house. It was unreal.

The rest of the night dragged on, you watched a few movies and ordered pizza, none of you talking very much. Eventually Sam fell asleep so you got up off the couch to cover him with a blanket. As you passed Dean to pick up the blanket he finally spoke up. "So what classes do we have together?" He asked innocently. "What?" You asked startled. "When your dad was introducing us you said we have a few classes together. A beautiful girl like you, I'd remember. So I'm curious." You were stunned, there's no way he just said that. "Um I think English and history maybe." You answered, sitting back down besides the sleeping boy. "No wonder I haven't seen you." He laughed. "There's no way anyone could make me sit in the most boring classes of the day." You rolled your eyes, yeah sure they were tedious but you actually wanted to graduate. "So what do you do with all your spare time then? Surely not studying?" Now it was Dean's turn to blush, you had heard a few notorious stories about Dean and a certain janitor's closet. He just shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Ever since that night Dean started showing up to his English and history classes, and not only showing up but coming in early to make sure he had the seat beside you. During breaks he would find you out by the football field and join you for lunch. You had so much in common, not just your unstable life as a hunter's kid but same taste in music and cars. It felt like you finally met your soulmate.

Eight months later it was time for the Winchester's to move on. The longest they had stayed anywhere (thanks to Dean) but John wouldn't be delayed any longer, he had a lead two states away and was determined to follow it. The night before he left, Dean snuck in through your window to say goodbye. Gifting you a dainty necklace adorned with your birthstone - you didn't even realise Dean knew what a birthstone was! "What's this for Dean? So my heart can break everytime I put it on?" You ask, looking up at the boy with tears in your eyes. He takes your left hand, running his thumb over your knuckles comfortingly. "No, this isn't goodbye forever, just for now. Just until dad ganks this son of a bitch and then I can come and see you again. I promise. Just wanted to get something for my favourite girl." He leant down to place a kiss on the top of your head. Wrapping your arms around him you pulled him in for the tightest hug you could muster. "I don't believe you, but I still love you." You chuckle against his chest. You feel his heart skip a beat, pausing before he replies "I love you too."

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

It didn't take long after graduating high school for you to fall into the hunter's life. After spending your senior year fighting with your dad about the future, you did exactly what he expected and gave in. He had taught you how to hunt from the age you could hold a shotgun.

It was the reason your mum left.

Although you were fulfilling your destiny of becoming a hunter, you refused to hunt with him. After a particularly explosive fight you called your boyfriend. Dean knew about your daily arguments but he also could feel that this one was different. This fight was bad enough, pushed you far enough to call him crying and begging to meet him wherever he was. Dean was currently hunting a vampire nest with John only a six hour drive from you. The minute your phone lit up with an address you jumped in your car and sped off. Not looking back for a second.

"She's on her way." Dean announced to John, shoving his phone back into his pocket. John sighed in response "she'll get her anger out on this hunt then she'll drive right back home. Don't expect her to stay with us. Even if she wants to, the answer's no." He said solemnly. "I don't think so, this is different. She hates this life, so it'd have to be really bad." John nodded not looking up from his paper. He tolerated yours and Dean's relationship. He had nothing against you personally, he just didn't believe you could be in a relationship and live their life. He would put up with you for as long as it took you to realise that and run off to find someone stable.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

That was almost four years ago. Since then you had joined the Winchester family on most of their hunts, surprising John with not only how well you could research and retain lore information but also how quick you were in a fight.

You had begun to grow close to Sam, he was like your best friend and the little brother you never had. When you were left alone to research he would often confide in you his feelings and dreams for the future.

One evening Dean returned to the motel alone, John abandoned him for a dive bar down the road, to you and Sam asleep on the couch. Your head resting atop his, your hoodie covering the younger boy from the chill in the air. Dean adored how you loved Sammy, how you both got along and you took care of him. He kissed your cheek and noticed how cold you were. Removing his eather jacket and gently placing it around your shoulders before settling into bed for the night. He didn't dare wake the two of you.

Over the years, you had the privilege of watching Sam grow into a young man and live out his dream of leaving the hunting life for college. The weekend before he left he made sure to visit you to say goodbye. Hugging you goodbye and making sure you had his new number but not before making you promise you wouldn't give it to Dean or John. "Cross my heart. I'll take this phone number to my grave along with every embarrassing crush you've told me about." You giggled, making an x across your heart. "Okay, okay, thank you. I just want to start over and I can't if they're trying to track me down." He smiled sadly. You looked up at Sam (he had now grown 10 feet tall and towered over you) "I get it but I can't promise they won't try to track you down anyways." You shrugged before giving the boy one final hug goodbye. "Good luck little Sammy." You joked as he left for good.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

Ever since Sam left things had become tense among the Winchesters. Well, more tense than they already were. John was more irritable, it seemed like he would take his sadness and frustration out on you, yelling at the smallest mistakes or refusing to give you details on their next hunt. Dean was torn, it was wearing him down, trying to deal with his brother leaving and his father and girlfriend fighting. You had had enough and had thoughts about leaving for awhile, just taking a few solo hunts away from John until things cooled down - you really wished you could steal Dean away as well but that would make things so much worse.

"-absolutely not! You go out there and do what needs to be done Dean. This has been going on for far too long and you know it." You heard John shout from inside his and Dean's motel room. "You don't know what you're talking about, she's the best damn hunter we've ever worked with." Dean responded, sounding just as furious. You hesitated going inside. You were going to tell Dean about your plan to give John some space but now, now they were fighting about you. You took a step back, you couldn't just leave without saying goodbye, so you waited. Anxiously twisting the birthstone around your neck your back against the wall, you waited for the screaming match to be over.

"She's bad news, always has been. Just like her damn father Dean. You can't keep dragging her around, it ain't fair." "I love her. " Dean growled. "You wouldn't know love if it hit you in the face." And with that the motel door flung open to reveal a furious Dean.

Tears stung your eyes, threatening to overflow. "How much of that did you hear?" Dean asked. "Enough." Dean took a deep breath and led you away from the motel door. "Look, I'm sorry. Honestly I never wanted you to hear that fight. But there's something I gotta say." Your breath caught in your throat, it felt like you were going to puke. You couldn't say anything back, so you just waited for him to go on, "I-Jesus-I can't do this anymore." He chokes out. "We need to break up." Tears pour down your cheeks silently. "We need to? Or John wants us to?" You seethe. "We need to. It's not fair, you never wanted this life. I know what you wanted, you truly want what Sam left for. An apple pie life. You could still go to College, meet someone normal. I can't, no I won't, keep bringing you down like this." His voice raises. "Seriously? After everything. You're giving in?" Nothing. Dean stands there, looking like a lost puppy. "Fine, I'll leave, I know when I'm not wanted. But before I go, I hope you're aware you sound just like John now. Congratulations." You whip around and walk as fast as your legs will take you to your car. Speeding off down the highway, making sure to stick your middle finger out the window for Dean to see.

☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 𐦍 ☾𖤓

[eddiazx]

blame it on the alcohol - evan buckley x reader

(because I was inspired by the episode of the Rookie)

It was awkward. It always is when the two of you were in the same room these days.

Buck and you had been broken up for three weeks, but the tension was still fresh and raw. The two of you didn't know how to navigate a professional yet friendly relationship. It would've been easier to avoid each other after the split, but you both worked at the 118 and considered the team like family, so neither one of you had the intention of leaving despite the weirdness.

Chim had suggested the team go out for drinks after a particularly gruelling shift. You would've declined, but frankly, you were tired of avoiding gatherings with your friends because of Buck.

When you knock back your 7th tequila shot of the night, you realize that Chim and Hen were singing karaoke on stage, and Eddie had stepped out to call Chris - leaving you alone at the table with none other than the man you broke up with.

Buck's blue eyes are clear and observing you steadily. Even in your inebriated state, you notice that he had been nursing the same beer for the past two hours.

You blame the tequila when you ask softly, "do you still love me?"

Buck inhales sharply at the unexpected question, but his eyes never waver from yours. "I never stopped."

You blame the tequila again when your eyes start to water. "You think we made a mistake breaking up?"

"Every single day for the past few weeks. I haven't been the same without you."

"Take me home?" You ask, and it's obvious you're not referring to your own too-quiet apartment, but about Buck's loft. Buck nods, signalling to the waiter to pay the bill, and mouthing something at Hen and Chim before he envelopes his warm hand in yours to bring you home where you belonged - with him.

The next morning, you wake to your head pounding and your mouth dry, but clad in Buck's sweater and loose shorts that he had urged you to change into last night. Your face is pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat like all is right in the world.

When you roll yourself off of him to settle onto the pillow, Buck slowly blinks awake. His lips quirk up into a hesitant but stunning smile. "Morning. Do you remember what we talked about last night?"

"I do. And I don't regret it." You answer honestly.

"Good." Buck exhales in relief, before he presses the softest kiss onto your lips. He can't help but moan into the kiss; he went three weeks without your touch, so it was the perfect reprieve after weeks of loss and longing. You move to straddle his hips without breaking contact, his morning wood pressing just right against your clothed core.

"I missed you so much, you know that?" You murmur while rolling your hips against his.

"I missed you too. Last night was the best sleep I've had in the past few weeks. Missed having you next to me in bed." Buck admits, thrusting his hips upwards at your pace.

When your hips start moving faster, trying to chase the high, Buck presses his thumb against your clit through the layers of clothes, and watches in fascination as you come apart on top of him. He follows not long after, spilling into his boxers.

You get off of Buck almost immediately, and before Buck can be too disappointed, you're pulling him up and into the shower for another round of make-up sex.

[voxslays]

CLOSE TO YOU — THE SALESMAN

PART THREE — THE CHALLENGE PAIRINGS: The Salesman (Gong Yoo) x Reader, Gi-hun x Reader (platonic). WARNINGS: Mentions of kidnapping (sort of), Reader is mentioned to be a foreigner (not stated from where), not proofread. A/N: I’m really happy to hear you guys have enjoyed the story so far! I am writing the chapters as I go which in hindsight isn’t great…but regardless, I hope you guys enjoy the direction in which I’m taking the story! 🤪

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Stop!” You plead, running into the bathroom. Inside, Gi-hun was holding Woo-Seok away from the ‘recruiter,’ who was just simply smiling, like a man enjoying his vacation in the sunshine state. It made you sick. “We need him alive.” Woo-Seok thrashes in Gi-hun’s grasp. “He killed my boss.” He sobs, nearly choking on his own tears.

“We simply played a game that he lost.” The ‘recruiter’ replies, seemingly unbothered by his unspeakable actions. “How can you be so okay with what you’ve done!?” You scream, looking into his dark, almost charcoal eyes. “It’s just a part of the game.” The dark ravenette smiles. You search his face for any emotion, any sign of remorse—but just as you had suspected, there is none. You sigh.

“Can you untie me now?” Asks Jun-ho, impatiently. “No.” Says Woo-Seok. “The cops getting involved is never a good thing.” Gi-hun sighs. “He can be useful. He was on the island.” For a moment nobody speaks. The only noise was the sound of deep breathing, before Gi-hun unshackled him from the showerhead. “Better?” Jun-ho nods.

“We should come up with a plan.” The detective turns to the ex-player. “You’re planning on getting back into the game, right?” Gi-hun nods. “We could place a tracker and follow you to the island. I know a guy.” As the two men discussed plans, you simply looked at the recruiter, who clenched his teeth. “Does it hurt?” You ask, pointing to the bullet wound in his shoulder. Maybe a gentler approach would get him to speak.

“Nothing to worry about.” He smiles. “How did you even get that anyways?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, your legs dangerously close to his. “A little game I played earlier with your friend.” He pauses. “Are you familiar with Russian Roulette?” You nod, waiting for an explanation that never comes. “You’re infuriating.”

Tuning back into the other conversation, you hear something that makes your precious little heart stop. “…the foreigner with him?” The detective asks. “What?” You ask, praying to any of the gods above that you had misheard. “Me…stay with him!?” You ask, pointing to the ‘dog’ as the Gi-hun called him earlier. “It’s for your safety.” Gi-hun adds. “You cant join me on the island, it’s too dangerous.”

“And searching for the island by boat isn’t any safer.” The detective adds. “Just stay here and watch him. Try to get any information you can.” You clench your fists and sigh, looking down. “Fine. I’ll keep watch.” Gi-hun pats you on the shoulder as Woo-Seok and the detective walk out of the motel room’s bright pink door. “Stay safe.” He warns, before following the other men.

You turn to the remaining man. “I guess it’s just you and me now.” You sigh, crossing your arms. “Just great.”

TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @iloveinhodaeho