#and I don’t want to argue with people about it

[niccocum]

There was upon a time a village who had after living in fear of the wolves once rallied their strength as group and stood up to the wolves harrying their herds of sheep and their lives. They took great effort and killed all the wolves threatening their sheep. And once done they lived in quiet peace no longer being afraid of wolves.

„Isn’t it great how we defeated the wolves?“, they said at their evening gathering.

„Yes, it is so great and peaceful since we got rid of them“, others agreed.

„Now we can sit out here and enjoy the evening, not being afraid of howling wolves. And we can let our sheepgraze unattended because there is no worry of wolves.“

Then a voice piped up, still young enough to be a boy or a girl, one wasn’t quite sure these days: „But you do know there are still wolves around? Yes?“

„No, no“, the old men and women around the cozy fire said. „There are no wolves anymore. Do not worry.“

„But I have seen wolves“, the child said. „They are no longer the wolves you know. They keep hiding among our sheep. Did you not see them?“

The people gazed out to the flocks of sheep grazing on the meadow and shook their heads.

„Don’t be silly“, they said. „We don’t see wolves. There are no wolves. You are still young and full of imagination. But we know! We defeated the wolves. There are no more wolves.“

The child was worried, but they did not want to argue further and so the village went to sleep in their peaceful wolf-free lives.

But the child restlessly watched more careful in the night, listening to the sounds traveling the air currents. And then there was the sound of howls just as the elders had described. And the gnashing and ripping and fearful bleating of sheep.

In the morning when the village awoke they did so slowly, because there was nothing to fear. But the child got up and went to look for the sheep and found some bloody grass and two of the sheep missing. It ran back to the gathering of the villagers.

„You have to see this!“, it shouted. „There are wolves! Two sheep have been taken in the night.“

The villagers shook their heads.

„There are no wolves. It has to be something else“, they said. 

„Sometimes a sheep runs away, that happens. It is nothing to worry about.“

„It was old and went to die in peace“, another said.

„But what about to blood?“, the child asked. „You said the wolves always left blood!“

„Yes, yes. But other causes can leave blood. An injury. A birth. Just life of a sheep. Do not worry, there are no wolves anymore.“

The child went to the meadow to watch the sheep. They were sure the sheep seemed to be more agitated than the night before. And there were blood spatters on the grass. It watched the sheep closely.  Frowning at the ones with too sharp teeth. Or there! Wasn’t that a flash of grey in the white wooly coat?

When night fell again it went to the elders of the village.

„I have seen it again. There a wolves hiding among our sheep. They come out when no one is looking. We should guard the sheep in the night.“

„No, no“, the men and woman said, waving their hands. „We will not loose sleep over something like that. There are no wolves anymore, everyone knows that.“

„But-„

Yet all had stopped listening. 

„Well then I will guard the sheep in the night!“, the child said. The other villagers just shook their heads.

„It is not necessary, but do what you want. You will see there are no wolves.“

So the village went to sleep and the child stayed awake guarding the sheep. They got a warm coat and paced along the meadows, a small candle for light.

At first everything seemed quiet and relaxed just as the villagers had said. But the moon rose and the houses fell silent and though the child was getting sleepy they stayed awake. Then in the darkness there was a movement. Too quick for sheep.

The child jumped up, gazing out into the darkness, the candle having burned out. A shape rose among the sheep. A second. Teeth too sharp for sheep gleamed in the moonlight, grinning. Eyes gleaming bright with malice.

A small bleating grew up from a sheep, a worried sound. A second joined.

The dark shapes too big for sheep beelined for the sounds and before the child could do something there was a growl and ripping and the bleating stopped.

„Wolves! Wolves!“, the child shouted running back to the first houses. „The wolves have come to eat our sheep!“

Light blinked on in one of the houses, a door opened and an old man in a nightdress opened the door.

„What are you shouting about? There are no wolves. We killed them all long ago.“

„No please! It is as I said they hide among the sheep! We have to do something!“

Another door opened, an old woman stepping out.

„What’s this ruckus about?“, the woman grumbled. „Don’t make up stories of wolves just to get attention child.“

„But It is true. I swear! There are wolves eating the sheep.“

„Go to bed, silly. Everyone knows there are no wolves. You have nothing to be afraid. Probably you fell asleep for a moment and imagined things.“

The doors closed and left the child standing on the road alone. Why didn't they believe them?

They returned to the meadow and watched careful, but the wolves did not return that night. Though in the morning they found four sheep had gone missing. Only a pool of blood and bits of wool remaining.

„See!“, the child said when the villagers came to look for the sheep in the morning. „There are the traces of the wolves. The blood and the wool from the sheep they devoured.“

The men and women frowned but shook their head. „There might be blood and wool, but probably a sheep got scratched by the thorns of those shrubs over there. It can’t be a wolf, there are no wolves anymore.“

The child looked at them aghast. „But there are four more sheep missing!“

„Are you sure you counted right?“, the old woman said. „I can’t find any sheep missing.“

Having solved the issue, the villagers returned to their daily work, letting the sheep fend for themselves. But the child was even more distressed now. And what was with that sheep in the back? It looked so grayish now and as they turned their head, in the corner of an eye a grin of too sharp teeth flashed.

A shudder ran down their spine.

The child slept a little during the day, to be ready for the night. This time they brought a sturdy stick. If no one was listening to them, they had to defend the sheep.

The sun settled behind the horizon and darkness crept from the mountains over their valley to blanket their village. As darkness came the sheep got a little more restless, huddling closer together as if from cold or fear. The child paced the meadow, looking for the flashes of teeth or the dark shapes of wolves, clutching their stick.

It was late, almost closer to dawn, when a howling sounded from between the herd. The child was alert at once looking for the wolves. There! Four shapes with sharp teeth and fangs closed in on a group of sheep.

„No!“ They ran forward lifting their stick, shouting and screaming. The wolves grinned just brighter, their eyes like laughing at them. The first sheep was struck down and then a second. Then the child had closed in. It held off one of the wolves with their stick, but three were still at the sheep, picking them off one by one.

The wolf in front of the child growled and then snapped at the stick, catching it in its jaw. A great breaking sound rose up and the stick splintered. The child backed away, but the wolf snapped at them now. The sharp teeth grazed their arm, leaving bloody traces. Knowing they couldn’t beat the wolves alone it ran away shouting at the top of their lungs.

„Wolves! Wolves! Come help. Wake up! The wolves are eating out sheep!“

Light went on quicker in more houses this time. Doors flung open. But the faces at the doors were not kind. 

„What are you shouting again?“, the old man cursed. „How often have we to tell you: There are no wolves!“

„Go to sleep! Don’t bother us.“

„Someone shut up that child!“

„But see!“, the child said. „Here are the bite marks of a wolf! I am telling you. Please, listen. The wolves are hiding among the sheep! They come to kill when we look away!“

At last a few of the villagers stepped out, bringing some light and looked at the arm the child held extended as proof.

One of the other older woman examined the wound, a frown on her face.

„It does seem like a bite mark of a wolf… My mother had a scar like this. She said it had been from a wolf.“

„Are you stupid?“, a man said. „That was a dog nothing else. We all know there are no wolves anymore.“

„A dog“, the others agreed. „It has to be a dog. There are no wolves.“

They turned their backs on the child and the old woman and soon the village was dark again.

„Come“, the old woman said. „My mother told me we have to take care of a wound like that, or it might get worse.“

The child nodded and let themself be led away for now to get the wound treated.

In the morning when they went to the meadow together, the child and the old woman, they found eight sheep had gotten killed by the wolves. Blood was spread around and bits of wool and flesh hung to the grass.

The old woman nodded to the child. „This has been the work of wolves. I assume it has been those in the back? The gray sheep that have fur instead of wool and those sharp teeth?“

„Yes“, the child said. „Though they looked more like sheep yesterday.“

They went to get the villagers, but only a few followed them to the meadow. And when they looked at the blood and the grey sheep they shook their heads.

„No. Those are not wolves. They look a little strange for sheep yes, but they are no wolves. We all know there are no wolves anymore.“

And they left again to go and do their business. Only one stayed behind. A younger man who stared at the grey sheep.

„I can not say if these are wolves“, he said. „But I am a little suspicious. Something seems strange.“

And so the three of them prepared for the night. With sticks and fire and the old vigilance when wolves roamed the night.

They waited, patrolling the meadow, watching closely for the wolves to emerge.

They didn’t need to wait long this time. Emboldened the wolves quickly emerged from the darkness. Eight of the big dark shapes this time.

„Yes. Those are wolves“, the young man nodded. „They have been eating the sheep.“

The three of them, the child, the old woman and the young man, grabbed their sticks and lightened their torches and stepped in front of the wolves. It was a dangerous thing to do. They were only three against eight wolves, but they knew they had to stop them now or it might be too late.

The wolves attacked, four of them at once. The child swung their stick catching a wolf in its side. It howled in anger and snapped for the stick, but the child was prepared this time. They stepped back and the young man moved in, stronger than the two others and drove the wolf back. Yet two others attacked from the sides, barely held back by the old woman. And around them sheep bleated in fear as the remaining wolves attacked them.

„We need more people“, the young man said. „Go wake the other villagers. They have to hear the wolves attacking this time.“

And so once more the child ran for the village. 

„Wolves! Wolves! You have to come help, they are taking our sheep! The wolves have returned, they are among our sheep eating them alive! We have to do something!“

The lights went on and doors opened left and right.

„Shut up! Shut up!“, the villagers screamed.

„There are no wolves, when will you learn!“

„Stop ruining our nights sleep with your meaningless boasting.“

„You are so annoying with your stupid screaming. Shut up and don’t talk about things you don’t know.“

And one by one the doors slammed shut. The lights went out. And the whole village lay dark and uncaring in the night.

The child utterly distressed and afraid went back to the meadow, to at least help. And found the old woman and the young man had retreated before the wolves, badly wounded.

„Let’s wait for the day“, the old woman said. „It has been so bad this night, they have to see and know the truth tomorrow.“

And so they waited for a bloody sun to reveal a bloody meadow. And among the sheep moved wolves, grey and furry licking their bloody snouts.

„Yes. They have to believe us now, that the wolves have been hiding among our sheep.“

They gathered the villagers, who were reluctant to follow and cursed at them for not shutting up. When they finally gathered at the meadow they looked at the blood and the missing sheep, and the fearful surviving ones.

„There!“, the child said. „The wolves are back!“

„There!“, the old woman joined in. „They are eating our sheep.“

„There!“, the young man said. „We have to work together to protect our sheep.“

The villagers looked and looked at the blood and the wolves among the sheep, not bothering to hide in the daylight, there were so many now.

„Look at that!“, the elders screamed. „Look at that blood. Our sheep have been killed! What horror unfolded in the night.“ They turned around to the villagers. „But everyone knows there are no wolves anymore! So this can not have been done by wolves! The culprits have to be these three! The child and the old woman and the young man. They blame it on the wolves! But we are not stupid. We know there are no wolves anymore. They are the ones killing our sheep! We have to get rid of them, so our peace returns and our sheep are safe again!“

And with horror the child, the old woman and the young man saw their fellow villagers pick up sticks and torches and descend on them. On them! For if they were no more, there would be no talk of wolves any longer. And where there was no talk of wolves. There of course were no wolves.

Because everyone knew there were no wolves anymore. So none could have been hiding among the sheep.

Updated version of Boy Who Cried Wolf but there are actual wolves every single time and no one ever believes the boy - they get closer and closer every time he tries to warn them, until it's too late and the whole town screams at the boy for not warning them "enough", and blame him for the wolves at their door.

[jungwnies]

wrong time, right person - carlos sainz (2/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : years after a bitter breakup, you and carlos sainz reunite unexpectedly. old wounds resurface, but so does undeniable love. will history repeat itself?

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor, drama ୨ৎ : tws : mild language, arguing, friendships ending, bantering, suggestive humor, mentions of alcohol consumption. ୨ৎ : wc : 817

part one | part two | part three | part four

The past was supposed to stay behind you.

You told yourself that more times than you could count. Every time you saw his name trending, every time another headline mentioned his transfer from Ferrari to Williams, every time a new interview clip surfaced on your feed. Carlos Sainz this, Carlos Sainz that.

Your old friends and family still brought him up like he was a permanent fixture in your life.

"Did you hear? He’s moving to Williams." "I saw an interview, he looks different now." "You must be so proud of him."

But you weren’t sure if proud was the right word. Not because he didn’t deserve it, he did, he always did, but because it didn’t involve you anymore.

"That life is behind me." You’d repeat it like a prayer, like if you said it enough times, you’d start to believe it.

And for the most part, you had moved on. Your career had skyrocketed, your face was on billboards in every major city, your name carried weight in the industry. People didn’t just recognize you, they admired you. They wanted to be you.

Carlos couldn’t escape you.

Your face was everywhere he went. Every city, every airport, every magazine stand outside his hotels. It wasn’t just the memories of you haunting him, it was you.

A photo of you staring down at him from a massive billboard in Times Square when he landed in New York for press. A video of you at Paris Fashion Week playing on the airport TV in Italy. A poster of you in a London boutique window while he was out for a run.

He could ignore the memories, the what-ifs, the moments that replayed in his head at night. But how was he supposed to ignore you when you were everywhere?

“Dude, it’s been years,” Alex Albon muttered beside him as they walked through the Williams headquarters. “You need to let it go.”

Carlos scoffed, shaking his head. “It’s not about letting it go.”

Alex gave him a look, unimpressed. “Then what is it about?”

He exhaled sharply. “I just… regret how it ended.”

Alex clapped a hand on his shoulder, offering a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, well, you can’t change the past. Just focus on the season ahead, alright?”

Carlos nodded, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that easy.

(timeskip)

When your manager called, you weren’t expecting that.

“They want you to attend a Formula 1 race.”

You nearly dropped your phone. “What?”

“It’s a great PR move. You’re at the peak of your career, and showing up at a global sporting event keeps your name relevant in different markets.”

You didn’t miss the hidden implication. F1 fans never really let go of things. You knew exactly what kind of reaction this would get.

“No,” you said immediately. “Absolutely not.”

Your manager sighed. “Look, I get it. But this isn’t about him, it’s about you. You’re bigger than a past relationship. You’re a global name now, and this only makes sense.”

You hesitated, but they kept pushing. “It’s just one weekend. You don’t even have to see him. Go, do the interview, wave at some cameras, and leave.”

You exhaled, rubbing your temples. One weekend.

“…Fine.”

It had been a while since you were last in a Formula 1 city. The sounds, the buzz, the energy. It felt familiar in a way that made your chest tighten.

But this wasn’t for him. This was for you.

You reminded yourself of that as you stepped out onto the bustling streets of Melbourne, sunglasses perched on your nose, blending in as best as you could while shopping for some last-minute outfits before the paddock appearance.

And then it happened.

You turned a corner and froze.

Carlos Sainz was standing right there.

For a split second, neither of you moved.

His expression flickered between shock and something else, something unreadable. Your breath caught in your throat, time stretching impossibly long between the two of you.

He looked different, but also exactly the same. A little older, a little sharper. Still Carlos.

“Hey,” he finally said, voice careful, hesitant.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

The air between you felt too heavy, too thick, too much.

More words could have been said. More things could have been fixed, or shattered even further. But neither of you let it happen.

Instead, there was just an awkward pause, a polite nod, and then,

“Goodbye, Carlos.”

You walked away.

And the paparazzi caught all of it.

Within hours, the internet exploded.

"Old friends reunite in Melbourne?! Is there tension between Carlos and Y/N?" "The past comes crashing back. Will 2025 be Carlos’ season, on and off the track?" "Y/N spotted ahead of the Australian GP. What does this mean for Carlos Sainz?"

The headlines didn’t stop. The photos were everywhere.

And for the first time in years, the world started watching you and Carlos again.

taglist : @willowsnook , @its-avalon-08 , @f1fantasys, (comment to be added)

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[evermoreness]

the bet | sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader

summary: james bets sirius can't make you fall in love with him and now sirius is all over you.

masterlist

It started, like most ridiculous things in Sirius Black’s life, because of James Potter.

The Gryffindor common room was loud that evening, filled with students playing Wizard’s Chess, finishing last-minute essays, or just causing trouble. Sirius lounged on the couch, legs stretched over the armrest, twirling his wand between his fingers as he half-listened to James and Peter argue about Quidditch formations.

And then you laughed.

Not at him—though that wouldn’t have been surprising—but across the room, sitting with Marlene and Lily, head thrown back, eyes sparkling with mischief. Sirius had heard you laugh plenty of times, but for some reason, this one caught his attention. Maybe it was because of how easily you laughed, how effortlessly you filled the space around you with warmth and energy.

James, ever perceptive (and ever annoying), caught the way Sirius was looking at you and smirked.

“Mate,” he said, nudging Sirius’s boot off the couch. “You’re staring.”

Sirius rolled his eyes and sat up properly. “Please. I don’t stare—people hope I’ll stare.”

Peter snorted. “Yeah, alright.”

James leaned back in his chair, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You know,” he mused, “I don’t think Y/n ever actually fallen for your charms.”

Sirius scoffed, placing a hand on his chest like he’d just been gravely insulted. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, she flirts with you,” James continued, as if this wasn’t a direct attack on Sirius’s entire identity, “but she flirts with everyone. She’s probably the only girl at Hogwarts who hasn’t fallen for your act.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes, turning his attention back to you. You were a flirt—always had been. And you were good at it too, quick-witted and confident, never the type to get flustered. He’d flirted with you plenty of times, and you always matched him, grin for grin, quip for quip. But James was right—you never blushed, never got nervous, never gave him that look most girls did when he turned on the charm.

It was… interesting.

And Sirius Black loved a challenge.

“You’re saying,” Sirius said slowly, “that if I actually tried, she wouldn’t fall for me?”

James grinned. “I’m saying you can’t do it.”

Remus, who had been reading by the fire (and wisely staying out of this nonsense), sighed. “Here we go.”

Peter perked up. “Ooh, is this a bet?”

Sirius smirked. “It is now.”

James sat up straighter, eyes gleaming. “Alright then, Black. Let’s make it official. I bet you—” he paused for effect, “—ten Galleons that you can’t make her fall for you.”

Sirius raised a brow. “Ten? That’s all?”

James laughed. “Alright, big shot, fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“You want to lose money that badly?”

Sirius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, expression downright smug. “Oh, I never lose.”

Remus groaned. “This is a terrible idea.”

James ignored him. “Alright, fine. Twenty Galleons says she will never fall for you.”

Sirius held out a hand. James shook it. The deal was made.

Peter clapped his hands together. “Ooooh, this is gonna be fun.”

Remus muttered, “This is going to end in disaster.”

Sirius leaned back, stretching lazily, confidence radiating off him. “Just you lot wait. By the end of the month, she will be smitten.”

“Sure, mate,” James said, shaking his head. “Sure.”

Across the room, you turned slightly, catching Sirius’s gaze. Your eyes met his, and instead of looking away, you held his stare, tilting your head slightly as if daring him to make a move.

And just to be infuriating, you gave him a wink.

Sirius grinned.

This was going to be fun.

The game begins

Sirius Black was a man on a mission.

The very next morning, he strolled into the Great Hall like he owned the place—not an uncommon occurrence. But today, his target wasn’t just looking devastatingly handsome or stealing toast off James’s plate. No, today was about you.

You were sitting with Marlene and Lily, sipping your coffee and looking far too amused for someone who had barely started the day. The moment Sirius approached, Marlene smirked knowingly.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered. “Brace yourself.”

You looked up just as Sirius slid into the seat beside you, his signature smirk firmly in place. “Morning, love,” he drawled, reaching out and plucking a piece of bacon from your plate.

You raised an eyebrow but let him take it. “Flirting before I’ve had my coffee? Bold move, Black.”

Sirius grinned. “I figured I should start early. Give you the whole day to think about how devastatingly charming I am.”

You took a slow sip of coffee, holding eye contact. Then, deadpan: “Who are you again?”

Marlene cackled.

Lily snorted into her pumpkin juice.

But Sirius? He only grinned wider. “Ah, playing hard to get, are we? Don’t worry, love. I love a challenge.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Do you, now?”

Sirius leaned in ever so slightly. “Mmm. And something tells me you do too.”

You pretended to consider this. “That’s true. But here’s the thing—I’m very good at it.”

Sirius chuckled. Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Since then, it was suspicious how often Sirius Black seemed to run into you that week.

He was always around, flirting, teasing, and honestly just trying to get your attention somehow. It was becoming a very odd habit to be around him that much.

It's been a few days now, and it seemed Sirius wasn't going to back down on whatever the plan he had in his head.

Try harder.

The Hogwarts library was your sanctuary. A place of peace, quiet, and most importantly, a place without distractions. Better saying, a place without Sirius Black.

At least, that was the idea.

Because of course, when you were finally alone, enjoying the rare bliss of uninterrupted reading, a shadow loomed over your book, and with it, his voice.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

You sighed without looking up. “This is a library, Sirius. People come here to study.”

Sirius Black had a very particular way of invading one’s personal space. Instead of just standing in front of your table like a normal person, he leaned forward, resting his elbows against the wood, close enough that you could feel the warmth of him.

“Yes, well,” he mused, “I figured you might be lonely.”

You finally lifted your gaze, unimpressed. “Oh, how thoughtful. And totally not an excuse to bother me.”

Sirius let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his chest like you had physically harmed him. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “Not yet, but if you keep talking, I might.”

His grin widened. “Feisty. I like it.”

“You like everything.”

“No, just you.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.

Sirius noticed.

He noticed everything.

And like the menace he was, he took that as an invitation.

With a lazy confidence that only he could pull off, he slid into the chair across from you, propping his chin on one hand. “So, what are we reading today?”

We. As if he was included in this activity.

You sighed, snapping your book shut with an audible thud. “Sirius, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Like, I don’t know, bothering James? Tormenting Snape? Staring at yourself in a mirror?”

“Multitasking, love.” He winked. “Besides, I like this game much better.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What game?”

“The one where I try to get you to fall for me.” He smirked. “And you pretend you’re not already madly in love.”

You let out a short laugh. “Oh, that’s what this is?”

Sirius tapped his fingers against the table. “Mmm, seems that way, doesn’t it?”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your arms on the wood between you. “I hate to break it to you, Black, but if this is your grand seduction plan, I’d give it a solid four out of ten.”

Sirius clutched his heart again, even more dramatically than before. “Four?! That’s a crime.”

“Would’ve been a three, but I added an extra point for effort.”

He narrowed his eyes, studying you. “You’re toying with me.”

You smirked. “What gave it away?”

Sirius huffed, but the grin never left his lips. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he examined you. His eyes flickered between yours, as if searching for a weak spot.

Then, he smiled.

That slow, dangerous, oh no kind of smile.

“Alright, then,” he mused, tilting his head. “I’ll just have to try harder.”

You arched an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like a challenge.”

“Maybe it is.”

Your fingers tapped against your book thoughtfully. “So what happens if you lose?”

Sirius grinned. “I never lose.”

You leaned in slightly, dropping your voice to a whisper. “Sounds like someone’s overconfident.”

Sirius mirrored your movement, his voice dropping to match yours. “Sounds like someone’s tempted.”

You held his gaze for a long, tense moment, a silent battle of wills.

Determined not to let him win this round, you leaned in too, mirroring his movement, until your faces were barely inches apart.

“You know what, Sirius?” you whispered.

His smirk widened. “What, love?”

You reached forward, grabbed your book—and snapped it shut in his face.

Sirius jerked back, startled, blinking rapidly.

“Merlin’s bloody beard, woman!” Sirius exclaimed, rubbing his forehead. “That was uncalled for!”

You leaned back in your chair, casually flipping your book open again. “No, invading my personal space was uncalled for.”

Sirius groaned dramatically, slumping in his chair. “You are absolutely infuriating.”

“You love it,” you said sweetly.

Sirius huffed, but there was no mistaking the way his lips curled up. “One day, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and full of promise. “One day, you’re going to beg me to kiss you.”

You scoffed, flipping a page. “Highly unlikely.”

Sirius just smirked, standing up and giving you a mock salute. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he turned and sauntered out of the library, leaving you staring after him, suddenly very aware of the warmth lingering on your face.

The retaliation.

It's been weeks now.

Weeks.

And Sirius was still all over you.

At this point, it was clear that Sirius Black had declared war.

Your response to that? Oh, he had no idea who he was messing with.

Because if Sirius Black wanted to play this game, you were going to make damn sure he suffered for it.

So, the next time you saw him in the corridor—leaning lazily against the wall, that insufferable grin already in place—you stopped, tilted your head, and gave him a slow, deliberate once-over.

Sirius blinked, caught slightly off guard. But only for a second.

Then, he smirked, straightening up. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

You let the silence drag out, letting his own arrogance build up. Then, just as his smirk widened—

You hummed, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Almost.”

Then, with a slow, infuriatingly confident wink, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Sirius stood frozen in place.

For a solid ten seconds.

You could feel his confusion radiating behind you, the absolute whiplash of thinking he had the upper hand, only to be completely blindsided.

James, who had just walked up behind Sirius, witnessed the entire thing. He clapped Sirius on the back with a grin. “Mate.”

Sirius didn’t even turn.

James smirked. “I think you just got Sirius’d.”

Sirius finally blinked, coming back to himself. He turned to James, looking betrayed. “That—that’s not a thing.”

James snorted. “It definitely is now.”

Sirius turned back toward the hallway you had disappeared down, running a hand through his hair, still processing.

You almost felt bad for him.

Almost.

But then you heard his voice, muttering to himself as you rounded the corner—

“Bloody hell.”

And that?

That was exactly the reaction you wanted.

The shift.

The Gryffindor common room was warm with the crackling fire, but the corridors leading to it were anything but. The stone walls seemed to absorb every bit of warmth, leaving you slightly chilled as you walked back from the Prefect’s meeting. It had run longer than expected—something about Filch catching a group of first-years trying to hex Mrs. Norris (which, honestly, you would have given them extra House points for).

As you turned the last corner, you spotted him.

Sirius Black, leaning against the wall right outside the common room entrance, looking for all the world like he was posing for a magazine cover. His arms were crossed over his chest, one foot propped against the stone, his black hair perfectly tousled in that effortlessly charming way that drove half the school mad.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you seriously waiting for me?”

Sirius smirked. “What makes you think I wasn’t just casually standing here, looking incredibly handsome?”

You sighed, exasperated but amused. “Because you’re Sirius Black. And Sirius Black doesn’t do casual.”

Sirius pushed off the wall, stepping in front of you, blocking your way into the common room. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted. “Though, in my defense, you do make it very hard to resist waiting around just to see you.”

You tilted your head, smirking. “That was almost sweet.”

He grinned. “Almost?”

“Yes, almost. But then I remembered you say this kind of thing to everyone.”

Sirius gasped dramatically. “Now that’s just slander. I’d never be this dedicated to anyone else.”

“Oh, dedicated now, are we?” you teased.

He stepped closer, closing some of the space between you, his smirk never fading. “You have noticed, haven’t you?”

Your smirk mirrored his, refusing to back down. “Oh, I’ve noticed.” You leaned in just a fraction. “I just don’t think it’s working.”

Sirius let out a soft laugh, but there was something in his expression—something unreadable, something a little too amused, a little too confident. “Oh, love,” he murmured, voice lower now, teasing but laced with something else. “You say that like you’re not enjoying every second of it.”

Your breath caught—just for a moment.

Not because he was right (which he wasn’t, obviously), but because of how close he suddenly was. The playful flirting had been going on for weeks now, but this? This was new.

You weren’t about to let him win, though.

With slow deliberation, you reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair, twirling a loose strand between your fingers. “Lovely hair,” you mused, watching his expression closely. “Shame if someone—oh, I don’t know—hexed it green.”

Sirius stilled.

It was brief, barely a second, but you felt it—the way his breath hitched just slightly, the way his smirk faltered for half a heartbeat before he recovered.

Then, he exhaled a soft laugh. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You grinned. “Try me.”

Sirius blinked, clearly caught off guard.

Then, he laughed. A real, genuine laugh, not his usual smug chuckle. “Merlin, you really are something else.”

You grinned. “Took you this long to realize?”

Sirius shook his head, still grinning. “I should be winning this, you know.”

You smirked. “Oh, you think you’re winning?”

He chuckled. “I know I am.”

“Sure, Black. Keep telling yourself that.”

His grey eyes flickered with something unreadable before he suddenly leaned in, just enough to make your heart stutter—not quite touching, but close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him.

His voice dropped to a murmur. “You love this.”

For the first time since this ridiculous game had started, you felt your heart stutter—just for a second. He was so close, his voice quieter than usual, like this moment wasn’t just another round of flirting.

You kept your cool, refusing to step back. “Of course I do,” you whispered. “I love watching you try so hard.”

His smirk widened. “Oh, darling. I’m not even trying yet.”

That was it. That was the moment you felt it.

The shift.

You weren’t sure who moved first. Maybe it was him, leaning in just enough to blur the lines of your usual banter. Maybe it was you, tilting your head slightly, eyes locked with his, breath caught somewhere between another teasing remark and something… else.

Whatever it was, the air between you shifted.

Sirius had been relentless these past few weeks, flirting with you at every opportunity, always pushing, always testing. But you had been just as ruthless—flirting back, laughing at his attempts, making sure he never got the reaction he was aiming for. It was a game, a fun one, a ridiculous one.

But now?

Now, you weren’t entirely sure what it was anymore.

You still had your fingers in his hair, twirling a strand between them as if you weren’t hyper-aware of the way he was looking at you. Sirius wasn’t just smirking now—his usual cocky, easy-going expression had melted into something slower, something almost… amused. Like he was watching you figure something out in real time.

His voice was soft, but there was no missing the amusement in it. “You’re staring, love.”

You scoffed, shaking off whatever that moment was. “So are you.”

“Course I am.” He grinned, tilting his head. “You are stunning.”

You rolled your eyes, letting go of his hair and taking a small step back—just enough to clear your head. “You’re insufferable.”

Sirius grinned. “And yet, here you are, still standing in front of me. Fascinating.”

You huffed a laugh. “I’m only here because you’re blocking the entrance.”

“Oh?” He glanced behind him, at the portrait hole, then back at you. “Say please, and I might move.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I’d rather hex you.”

Sirius gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest. “Violence? So soon in our courtship?”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Move, Black.”

He grinned but didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned slightly closer again, grey eyes twinkling with mischief. “Admit it.”

You crossed your arms. “Admit what?”

“That I make your heart race.”

You blinked. Oh, he was getting bold now.

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “Hmmm… I do get a strange reaction around you.”

Sirius smirked. “Do you now?”

You nodded solemnly. “Yes. It’s called secondhand embarrassment.”

Sirius barked a laugh. “Merlin, you love giving me a hard time, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He studied you for a second, like he was debating his next move, and then—because he was Sirius Black—he smirked again and leaned in just slightly, lowering his voice to something almost dangerous.

“Don’t worry, love,” he murmured, “I like it rough.”

For the first time, you felt your brain short-circuit.

It was barely noticeable—the fraction of a second it took you to process what he had just said—but Sirius caught it. His smirk widened ever so slightly, his eyes flickering with triumph.

Oh, hell no.

You refused to give him the satisfaction.

So you did the only logical thing: you reached out, grabbed his tie (because of course Sirius Black wore his tie loose and messy), and yanked.

Sirius stumbled forward, his hands flying up instinctively to catch himself on either side of you, palms pressing against the wall just behind your shoulders. He was close now—closer than before, his face mere inches from yours.

His smirk faltered.

Your grip on his tie tightened. “Careful, Black,” you whispered, voice dripping with amusement. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

Sirius exhaled a laugh, but it wasn’t as confident as before. His gaze flickered to your lips—just briefly, just enough for you to notice.

And then, just as quickly, he pulled back, his usual grin snapping back into place. “Well,” he said, voice a little too casual, “this has been fun.”

You let go of his tie, smoothing it down like you hadn’t just pulled him into your trap. “Oh, so much fun.”

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, clearing his throat. “Well then. I suppose I should let you get inside before you freeze to death out here.”

You hummed. “How thoughtful of you.”

He stepped aside, finally moving out of the way, and gestured dramatically to the portrait hole. “After you, my dear.”

You walked past him, but just before stepping inside, you turned back slightly, smirking. “Try harder next time, Black.”

Sirius chuckled, watching as you disappeared into the common room.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, he realized—he was the one who needed to be careful.

Because this?

This wasn’t a game anymore.

The realization.

If someone had told Sirius Black a month ago that he’d be spending every single day trying to fluster a girl and failing miserably, he would’ve laughed in their face.

If they had told him that, in the process, he’d start genuinely enjoying her company instead of just playing around? That he’d actually start looking forward to seeing her, not just for the game but because… he liked being around her?

He would’ve called them a liar.

But here he was.

You had barely stepped into the classroom when you noticed something was off.

Your usual seat, the one you had claimed since the start of the year, was occupied.

And not by just anyone.

Sirius Black sat in your chair, lounging as if he owned the place, a smug smirk firmly in place.

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re in my spot.”

Sirius stretched lazily, arms behind his head. “Oh? Didn’t see your name on it.”

You huffed, placing a hand on your hip. “Move.”

His grin widened. “Make me.”

Oh, he wanted this.

He was practically begging for you to retaliate, thinking he had the upper hand, that he controlled this game.

Well.

He was about to learn exactly why you were a worthy opponent.

You gave him an innocent smile, stepping forward slowly. He watched you, intrigued, likely expecting you to shove him out of the chair or hit him with a sarcastic remark.

Instead, you simply… sat down.

Right in his lap.

His brain, for the first time in his entire existence, short-circuited.

Sirius froze.

James, sitting across from the both of you, choked violently on his own spit.

Peter dropped his quill.

Remus barely glanced up from his book, but there was a very distinct twitch of his lips.

“Comfortable, love?” Sirius finally managed, voice noticeably strained.

You made a show of shifting slightly, settling into place, “Quite.”

Sirius swallowed. Hard.

James rolled his eyes. “You two are actually unbearable.”

You smirked. “What’s wrong, Potter? Can’t handle a little friendly seating arrangement?”

James deadpanned. “That is not a ‘friendly’ anything.”

Sirius, still struggling to recover, cleared his throat. His hands had instinctively settled on your waist when you sat down, and it seemed he just now realized it because they suddenly twitched, as if unsure whether to move away or pull you closer.

You weren’t giving him a single second to recover.

Tilting your head slightly, you turned your head back at him, bringing your lips dangerously close to his ear. “What’s the matter, Black?” you purred. “Speechless?”

Sirius inhaled sharply, gripping your waist just slightly in retaliation. “You wish,” he muttered back, his breath warm against your skin.

James slammed his hands on the desk. “I swear, if you two start shagging right now, I’m dropping out.”

Peter just covered his eyes. “I can’t watch this.”

Remus, without looking up, turned a page in his book. “Oh, please. They’ve been shagging with their eyes for months.”

Sirius barked out a laugh, but you could feel how tense he was under you. You weren’t supposed to be this bold. You were supposed to roll your eyes and huff at him, not actually play along.

You smiled sweetly. “You alright, darling? You seem a bit… tense.”

Sirius swallowed again, eyes locked onto yours, something sharp and dark flickering in them. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m more than alright.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” James groaned, dramatically slumping onto the desk.

Peter still had his hands over his eyes, mumbling something about his innocence being shattered.

Remus just turned another page, unimpressed. “If you lot are done providing the rest of us with free entertainment, I’d like to get through at least one class today without wanting to fling myself into the Black Lake.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, trying to act as if this wasn’t affecting him in the slightest. “I hope you realize you’ve just started something you can’t finish, love.”

You hummed, your face still turned to his, almost touching. “Oh, I always finish what I start, Black.”

Sirius, determined not to be outdone, tightened his grip on your waist ever so slightly, shifting just enough to remind you of where exactly you were sitting. His lips curled into a devilish grin as he leaned in slightly.

Peter peeked through his fingers at you and Sirius, then promptly covered his eyes again. “Nope. Still too much.”

“Careful, love,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk. “You might actually start liking it here.”

And that was when Professor Slughorn walked in.

“Ah, good morning, my dear students!” Slughorn’s voice boomed through the classroom, cheerful and oblivious.

You and Sirius froze.

James’ eyes widened. “Oh, this is better than detention—”

Before he could even finish that sentence, you had launched yourself out of Sirius’s lap so quickly it was like you’d Apparated.

Sirius, whose hands had still been on your waist, was left gripping air, looking momentarily lost before hastily readjusting his posture, trying to appear as if nothing had happened.

You were already in the seat beside him, perfectly composed, as if you hadn’t just been sprawled across his lap like a queen on her throne.

Slughorn, still cheerfully setting down his books, was thankfully none the wiser.

“This isn’t over” Sirius mumbled.

You smirked, pretending to focus on your textbook. “I’d be disappointed if it was.”

Something more?

Sirius Black did not get nervous. He did not overthink. He did not, under any circumstances, lose control of his own game.

And yet—

Ever since that moment in the charms classroom, ever since the way she had looked at him, the way she brought him closer by his tie, her face barely brushed against his—

He was a mess.

He kept telling himself it was nothing. A fluke. Just a moment of bad timing. He had spent weeks flirting with you, teasing you, pushing your buttons, waiting for that one moment where you would crack—where you would get flustered, where you would lose.

But now?

Now he wasn’t even sure what the prize was anymore.

It started at breakfast.

He had taken his usual seat beside James, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Morning, peasants,” he greeted, swiping a piece of toast off James’ plate.

“Morning, git,” James shot back, snatching the toast back.

Sirius ignored him, gaze already drifting down the table—searching, waiting—

And there you were.

You were laughing at something Lily had said, your head thrown back slightly, eyes crinkled with amusement. The way you smiled—the way you always did that little thing where you bit your lip slightly when you were trying to suppress a laugh—

Sirius inhaled sharply and immediately looked away.

James, who had never in his life missed an opportunity to be annoying, noticed.

James narrowed his eyes. “What was that?”

Sirius took a bite of his toast. “What was what?”

“That.” James wiggled his eyebrows. “You looked at her like—like—”

“Like he wants to marry her,” Peter supplied unhelpfully.

Sirius choked on his toast.

James gasped. “Oh my god.”

Remus, who had been listening from across the table, sighed. “Please don’t start.”

James pointed his fork at Sirius. “You like her.”

Sirius, still recovering from his near-death experience, wiped his mouth and glared. “I do not.”

James grinned. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You so do.”

“I—” Sirius turned back toward you, ready to prove a point, ready to do something to remind himself that this was just a game—

And, of course, you were already watching him.

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching with amusement. Busted.

Sirius swallowed hard. “Shut up, Potter.”

James cackled.

The day went on as always. Classes, quidditch practice, pranks.

At night, the castle was quiet, the corridors nearly empty as Sirius found himself walking beside you after curfew.

It had been an accident, really—one of those oh, you’re here too? kind of moments. You would both been sneaking back to the dorms after separate misadventures and had somehow fallen into step beside each other.

You weren’t even teasing anymore. Not really. Just talking.

And Merlin help him, Sirius liked it.

He liked the way your voice softened when you talked about things you loved. He liked the way you sighed dramatically every time he said something mildly ridiculous. He liked the way you walked—confident, effortless, like she owned every damn corridor of this castle.

And he liked—

Oh.

Oh shit.

“Sirius?”

He blinked. “Hmm?”

You studied him for a moment, eyes glinting with curiosity. “You okay? You looked like you were having an existential crisis just now.”

He scoffed. “Please, I don’t do existential crises.”

You smirked. “You sure? Because you definitely looked like you were having a moment.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I was just… thinking.”

You gasped dramatically. “Thinking? You?”

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

“I know.”

There was a pause—a comfortable, easy silence.

And then you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “You never answered.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow. “Answered what?”

“What you were thinking about.”

His stomach flipped.

He could lie. He should lie.

But instead, he just—

He looked at you.

And damn it all, he knew.

He had known for a while.

Sirius cleared his throat, stalling. “Oh, you know. Just deep, profound thoughts about life and the mysteries of the universe.”

You shot him a knowing look. “Uh-huh. And by that, you mean?”

He smirked, hands tucking into his pockets. “Why the bloody hell Filch still uses oil lamps when we have lumos.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, shaking your head. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, Black. Truly, your intellect knows no bounds.”

“Glad you noticed,” he quipped, nudging you back lightly.

And then it happened again—that lull. That moment of easy silence that should have been awkward but wasn’t. It was almost… nice.

Because you were watching him—really watching him—with those knowing eyes of yours. And maybe he was imagining it, but your usual teasing smirk wasn’t there. Instead, there was something softer, something curious, like you were actually interested in his answer.

Sirius hated it.

Because it meant something had changed.

He wasn’t supposed to enjoy your company like this. He wasn’t supposed to find it fun to just walk and talk with you without trying to one-up each other. He wasn’t supposed to feel his chest tighten slightly when you laughed at something genuine he said, rather than some over-the-top flirtation.

Merlin’s bloody beard, he was in trouble.

And he definitely wasn’t supposed to notice the way the moonlight caught in your hair, or how your eyes sparkled when you were amused, or how—

“You’re doing it again,” you observed, voice teasing but gentle.

Sirius blinked, forcing himself back to reality. “Doing what?”

“Thinking too hard,” you said, nudging him again. “That’s twice in one night. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, maybe a little too quickly.

Before Sirius could even attempt to come up with something—something witty, something that would push this moment back into the realm of teasing where it was safe—the sharp sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

They both froze.

Filch.

Sirius grabbed her wrist without thinking, tugging you into the nearest alcove. You barely had time to press yourselves against the stone wall before Filch’s lamp light flickered against the opposite wall, his grumbling voice growing louder.

Sirius could feel your breath against his neck, warm and too close. You were right there, pressed against him, your body tucked between his and the cold castle wall, and Merlin’s bloody beard, this was not helping his already spiraling thoughts.

You shifted slightly, just enough to glance at him, your lips dangerously close to his jaw. “Well, this is cozy,” you whispered.

Sirius huffed a quiet laugh, though his heart was hammering. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You smirked, your voice low, teasing. “Maybe.”

Filch’s footsteps paused just outside the alcove.

Sirius didn’t breathe.

Neither did you.

For a moment, it was just the sound of Filch’s muttering, the flicker of the lamp light, the distant creak of the castle settling.

Then, mercifully, the footsteps started moving again, fading into the distance.

You exhaled slowly. “That was close.”

Sirius turned his head slightly, the movement bringing his lips just a fraction closer to yours. “Too close,” he murmured.

You were looking at him now, your eyes catching the faint glow of the lantern light. There was something different in them—something Sirius couldn’t quite place, but felt deep in his chest.

You weren't smirking anymore.

And neither was he.

The air between you shifted.

Your gaze flickered to his lips—so fast he might have imagined it, but Merlin, he hoped he didn’t.

His grip on your waist tightened slightly, just for a second. He could lean in. He could close the space. He could—

Footsteps again.

You jumped apart.

This time, it was Peeves, floating lazily through the corridor, humming some dreadful little tune to himself.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to gather himself. When he turned back to you, you were watching him with an unreadable expression.

Then, because you were you, you smirked.

“Almost had a moment there, Black.”

Sirius, still feeling the ghost of her warmth against him, forced a grin. “You wish.”

But his heart was still pounding.

Not a game anymore.

It had been building.

For weeks, maybe even months. The teasing, the flirting, the lingering glances, the casual touches that weren’t so casual anymore. Every moment had been leading up to this—an inevitable collision of something they both had tried (and failed) to ignore.

And, as it turned out, there was only so much tension two people could handle before something snapped.

You were alone in the Gryffindor common room—again. It had become your place, their quiet retreat when everyone else had gone to bed. Sirius lounged on the couch, legs stretched out, hands behind his head, exuding obnoxious levels of confidence.

You sat beside him, one knee tucked under you, arms crossed, watching him with amusement.

Sirius smirked. “You stare at me an awful lot, love. Starting to think you actually fancy me.”

You scoffed. “Please. I stare at you the same way someone stares at a particularly dumb puppy.”

Sirius gasped, hand flying to his chest. “You wound me.”

You smirked. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, come on,” he drawled, shifting so he was closer to you. “Admit it. You think I’m irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“I know,” he shot back, winking.

And that—that damn wink—was the final straw.

Because Sirius Black was—

Infuriating.

Cocky.

Too smug for his own good.

And yet, for some stupid, ridiculous, absolutely insane reason—

You wanted him.

And you wanted him to shut up.

So, without thinking, without hesitating, without any of your usual control—

You grabbed the collar of his stupid perfectly rumpled shirt—

And kissed him.

Sirius made a muffled sound of surprise—because, to be fair, he had not expected that.

But then—

Oh.

Oh, he liked this.

Your hands were tangled in his shirt, holding him in place like you were daring him to move away (as if he ever would ). His mind short-circuited, all thoughts completely gone except for you.

And Merlin, you kissed like you meant it.

Like you had been holding back just as much as he had.

Like you knew this had been coming all along.

Sirius reacted instinctively—one hand moving to the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, savoring the way you melted into him—

And, bloody hell, he was gone.

He stared at you, breathing heavily, lips tingling, brain struggling to catch up.

When you finally pulled back (too soon, far too soon), Sirius was dazed.

You smirked. “Finally shut you up.”

Sirius blinked.

And then—

He grinned.

“Oh, love,” he murmured, voice lower than before, hands still on her waist, “if that’s how you plan to shut me up, I’m never stopping.”

You laughed—breathless, amused, maybe even a little shaken—but you didn’t move away.

Sirius tilted his head. “You liked that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So did you.”

Sirius smirked. “Obviously.”

A pause.

A shift.

The air between you still charged, still crackling with something you could no longer ignore.

And then—

“Are we going to talk about this?” you asked, voice softer now.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly?” He met your gaze, something real in his expression. “I have no idea what to say.”

You hummed. “Good. Me neither.”

Another pause.

Another glance at your lips.

And then—

Sirius smirked. “Wanna do it again?”

You rolled your eyes—but then you grabbed his tie and pulled him in for another kiss.

And this time, neither of you were pretending.

You both didn’t stop at just one kiss.

Or two.

Or three.

It was impossible to stop when every touch, every kiss, every breath made you want more.

Sirius wasn’t sure how much time had passed—minutes? Hours? A lifetime?—before you finally broke apart, still tangled up in each other on the Gryffindor common room couch.

You were curled into his side, head resting against his shoulder, your fingers lazily tracing patterns over the fabric of his shirt. Sirius had one arm slung around your waist, holding you way too close for someone who was definitely not in love.

(Except he absolutely was).

The fire crackled in the silence, casting flickering shadows around the room.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

And that was the problem.

Because now—now, you both actually had to deal with this.

Sirius was screwed.

Absolutely, entirely, undeniably screwed.

Because less than twelve hours after the greatest (and most terrifying) kiss of his life, the Marauders found out.

And they did not take it well.

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

Sirius winced as James’ very loud, very dramatic voice echoed through the dormitory.

Peter, wide-eyed, turned to Remus. “I knew something was up!”

Remus smirked knowingly. “Oh, we all knew.”

James, meanwhile, was pacing the room like a madman. “Okay, okay, hold on—” He spun on Sirius. “You kissed her?”

Sirius sighed. “Yes.”

James pointed aggressively. “And you liked it?”

Sirius scowled. “Obviously.”

Peter gasped. “Oh, no.”

Remus snorted. “Oh, yes.”

James took a deep breath, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Pads…” He grinned. “You like her.”

Sirius froze.

And that—that tiny moment of hesitation—was all they needed.

James screamed.

Peter looked shocked.

Remus looked entirely too smug.

Sirius groaned. “For Merlin’s sake, I don’t—”

James tackled him onto the bed. “YOU’RE IN LOVE.”

Sirius nearly threw his pillow at him. “I am not in love.”

Remus, sitting across from them, raised an eyebrow. “You do realize you’ve spent every waking moment with her lately, right?”

Peter nodded. “And you don’t even flirt with other girls anymore.”

James smirked. “And you look at her like she hung the bloody moon.”

Sirius scowled. “I do not.”

James leaned back, arms behind his head. “You know what? I think we should all start placing new bets.”

“Oh, do tell,” Remus said dryly.

James grinned. “I bet he admits he loves her by the end of the month.”

Sirius choked. “I don’t—”

“Oh, come on, Pads,” James interrupted. “It’s so obvious.”

Peter nodded. “You’re, like, way too soft around her now.”

Sirius scowled. “I am not—”

“You literally tucked her hair behind her ear yesterday,” Remus said flatly.

Sirius froze.

James and Peter howled with laughter.

“HE KNOWS!” James cackled. “HE KNOWS HE’S SCREWED!”

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. “I hate all of you.”

James smirked. “No, you hate yourself for falling so hard.”

The truth.

Sirius had never been nervous before.

Not really.

Not in a way that mattered.

But now? Now, as he stood in the dimly lit common room, watching you sit cross-legged on the couch, waiting for him to say something, his heart was pounding.

Because this was it. This was the moment he decided to stop being a bloody coward and actually talk to you.

No more hiding. No more pretending.

Just… the truth.

Sirius exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "So, um… I need to tell you something."

You raised an eyebrow, amused. "That sentence is never a good sign."

Sirius smirked. "Depends on your definition of ‘good,’ love."

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, Black. Out with it."

Sirius hesitated. He could still back out, still pretend nothing had changed between you—

But he didn’t want to.

He took a breath. “The whole flirting thing… the game we were playing.” He met your gaze. “It started because of a bet.”

You didn’t even blink. “I know.”

Sirius frowned. “Wait—what?”

You smirked. “I know about your little bet with James.”

Sirius groaned, rubbing his temples. “Of course you do.”

You eyes sparkled with mischief. “Did you really think James Potter could keep his mouth shut about something that entertaining?”

“Merlin,” Sirius muttered. “I should have.”

You laughed, then tilted your head. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Sirius hesitated again—but only for a second. “Because it’s not a game to me anymore.” He met your gaze, something real in his expression. “I like you. And I didn’t want this to be built on a stupid bet.”

You didn't speak immediately. Just studied him, like she were assessing him.

Sirius forced himself to keep his usual bravado at bay, to let you see him instead of the version of himself he usually put on for the world.

And then—

You smiled.

A real, genuine smile.

“Well,” you said lightly, “that’s interesting.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

You bit your lip, amusement dancing in your expression. “Because, Black… I had a bet too.”

Sirius blinked. “What?”

You grinned. “James bet me that I couldn’t make you fall for me.”

Sirius froze.

His brain short-circuited.

And then—

“I’m going to kill him.”

You cackled, clapping your hands. “Oh, this is perfect.”

Sirius groaned, sinking onto the couch beside you. “James bloody Potter.” He looked at you, half-amused, half-furious. “You knew?”

You nodded, smug. “Of course.”

Sirius threw his hands in the air. “James set us up.”

You shrugged. “And it worked.”

Sirius opened his mouth—then paused.

Because—

Oh, Merlin.

It did work.

He turned to look at you. “You actually like me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Sirius scoffed. “Because you were supposed to be the one hopelessly falling for me.”

You smirked. “Guess James was right, then.”

Sirius groaned. “I hate him.”

You nudged him playfully. “No, you don’t.”

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. I love him. But I also hate him.”

You laughed, then reached out, twining your fingers through his. “For what it’s worth,” you said softly, “I was never playing a game with you. Not really.”

Sirius’ heart stuttered.

Because this—this was real.

And it was terrifying.

And he loved it.

He turned your hand over in his, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Yeah?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

Sirius swallowed, something tight in his throat. “So what do we do now?”

You grinned. “Well, first—” you leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper. “—you kiss me again.”

Sirius smirked. “Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask.”

And this time, when he kissed you, there was no bet, no game—

Just the both of you.

The aftermath.

It quickly became common knowledge that Sirius and his girlfriend (which still sounded insane to him) were the most ridiculous couple to ever exist.

Because while other couples held hands and whispered sweet nothings, Sirius and you—

Well.

You teased each other, you flirted relentlessly, annoyed each other and at the same time also had your soft moments.

James Potter deeply regretted his life choices.

Because here’s the thing—when he first made the bets, it was supposed to be hilarious. Watching Sirius try (and fail) to seduce someone who actually gave him a challenge? Comedy gold.

Watching you break Sirius Black’s unshakable confidence? Even better.

And then, somehow, those two idiots actually fell for each other.

Now, every single day, James had to deal with this.

James sat at the Gryffindor table, glaring across the Great Hall.

At you both.

Sirius had an arm slung lazily around your waist, smirking as you stole food from his plate like it belonged to you.

You weren't even subtle about it. You would just reach over, pluck a piece of toast from his hand, and take a bite without breaking eye contact.

Sirius, instead of protesting like a normal person, grinned and leaned in. “Careful, darling,” he murmured, voice low. “If you keep stealing from me, I might have to take something from you.”

You smirked. “Oh? And what exactly would you take, Black?”

Sirius’ smirk widened. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

You just shook your head and smiled, he reached out to take a sip of tea from your cup. It was strange how comfortable you were around each other.

You yawned, resting your head in his shoulder, the moment quickly shifting from teasing to softness. This was the kind of thing that always happened between you, you could just go from full on annoying each other to the cutest moment ever.

"Tired, baby?" Sirius whispered, his fingers caressing your hip softly. His voice soft.

You had a small smile in your lips. "It's all your fault and that horrible Muggle game"

"You were the one that kept asking for a rematch" Sirius grinned, letting a soft kiss in your hair.

James slammed his fork onto the table. “I hate this.”

You and Sirius came out of your love bubble, looking at James while trying to hold back the laughter. James was definitely regretting his life decisions.

Remus, barely looking up from his plate, hummed. “No, you don’t.”

James gestured wildly. “They’re so annoying.”

Peter snorted. “They’re exactly the same as before. Just… more obnoxious.”

Sirius turned to James, absolutely radiating smugness. “Something wrong, Prongs?”

James scowled. “Yeah. You two.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Why, James, I thought you wanted us to be together.”

“I take it back.”

Sirius chuckled, pressing a ridiculously over-the-top kiss to the top of you head just to piss James off more. “Too late.”

James groaned, flopping onto the table dramatically. “This is hell.”

Remus patted his back. “You did bring this upon yourself.”

James let out a miserable sigh. “Worst idea ever.”

[mercurymentality]

AHHH !!!! THIS !! THIS THIS THIS THIS THIS !!! I AM CONSTANTLY SHOUTING THIS AT THE ROOFTOPS. i find myself arguing for the natural world time and time again, even to people that ARE acquainted with it (this case in particular with things like wasps, mosquitos, common nuisance or ‘scary’ creatures).

for a long specific example, a couple months ago i had an argument with my partner’s best friend’s fiancé. she’s vegetarian/pescatarian. we were all in discord & i mentioned how i wanted to learn how to skin an animal. she was absolutely disgusted with me & we got into it & at the end of the day she believes any situation of killing & eating an animal is bad because it feels pain and there is no ethical way to do it. i brought up how bugs and fish feel pain but she doesn’t have a problem with squishing a bug or eating a fish. she disagreed with me and quoted “science”. GIRL. OUT OF US TWO WHO IS THE ONE READING THE MORE SCIENTIFIC PAPERS ABOUT NATURE & ECOLOGY???? oh is it perhaps ME??? where’s your papers? did you make an annotated bibliography on it??? are you aware that not all published papers are proof or telling you the truth? because at the end of the day the scientific world is also run on MONEY so i won’t delve into all of the issues of the scientific publishing world. what i’m getting at is show me how you’ve come to discern this. i’m willing to listen, but you can’t quote that science says so when you haven’t even done a cursory scroll through something like google scholar.

i got into it further & explained how i believe even plants have some level of consciousness & feeling of pain but how it isn’t necessarily comparable to the way we experience it. & with the vast RANGE of creatures & how they experience life, i do not find myself the arbiter of who deserves to die & get eaten. everything must eat and everything must die (((she had the audacity to argue that our teeth aren’t evolved to eat meat,, AHH))).

there is no escaping causing some amount of pain in the world, whether it be to your fellow human or some other creature. i’m sorry. i believe it is good to think about how you are causing pain & making decisions to cause less. i don’t mind that she doesn’t want to eat meat, i’m not trying to force her. we do treat livestock in utterly fucked up ways & there is so much wrong with our current food systems, but there’s also so much wrong with how we treat our fellow humans. there’s a lot of fucked up shit going on!! if you don’t want to eat meat in order to boycott that, i think that’s cool. i’m not going to stop eating meat, for various reasons (one being my difficulty with eating in general) and i don’t think that necessarily makes you better than me. i want you to stop acting that because you’re willing to eat a fish over a cow (creating this animal hierarchy of “worthiness of life”) that you are inherently more good and ethical than me. that you are the knower of truth in what is right. you’re not.

now as i was saying i would love to learn to hunt & skin an animal. i want to feel the connection it brings. i like to provide care to the dead. i like to thank them for meeting me in this moment. i don’t think that makes me bad. is anyone willing to teach me?

It's always so weird to come down from the biology heavens to see what the average person believes about animals, plants, ecosystems, just the world around them. I don't even mean things that one simply doesn't know because they've never been told or things that are confusing, I'm talking about people who genuinely do not see insects as animals. What are you saying. Every time I see a crawling or fluttering little guy I know that little guy has motivations and drive to fulfill those motivations. There are gears turning in their head! They are perceiving this world and they are drawing conclusions, they are conscious. And yet it's still a whole thing if various bugs of the world feel pain or if they are simply Instinct Machines that are Not Truly Aware of Anything At All????? Help!!!!!! How can you look at a little guy and think he is just the macroscopic animal version of a virus

[mawlbone]

PLAYBOY BUNNY - KÖNIG

[SNIPPET: Never in your life had you paid much much interest towards the more… pet-ish sort of outfits. You know, the type of stuff you’ll find in the bedroom to be a little more wild from ears embedded headband, tail plugs, and hell, even collars. Though, when one of your older customer dropped off their old collection of Playboy magazines as an “extra tip” for your work, who are you to deny such a gesture?]

[CW: gender neutral reader, domtop reader, possessive reader (it’s mutual), flemish giant hybrid König, mention of childhood bullying, mild hunting description, praise kink, fingering, non-specific penetration (could be interpreted as dick or strap), sloppy riding, dry-humping, breeding kink, overstimulation, biting, missionary sex, doggy style, and sleepy sex.]

[COMMENT: Promised sequel to Lucky Rabbit’s Foot, please read that first. Apologies for how overdue this is, this month had kept me terribly busy, hur have fun kissing the big guy. While I promised to be nice for the most part, I got angry at my draft being deleted and writing too much in the exposition… Sigh, also on a final note, don’t ask for any kits, do you want to cause an overpopulation problem in this world! /lh]

Out of the many things you had learned since you had taken over your grandfather’s cabin and many long ago car rides together, one that constantly proves itself true time after time again is that people are utterly talkative when they’re lonely.

Year after year, when the town brings its daily rounds of tourists to celebrate the holidays, many of the residents will speak about you, the hermit that resides in the depths of the forests with nothing more than their gun and bags to send to the local butcher in town.

At least, that’s what the bar regulars say.

An unconventional job bad brought words of envy from your local bar’s residents as they swing over heavy jugs of cheap watery beers. Half fizzled from the barley with eyes that once spoke of brighter dreams, you hear them murmur within their daze as they take your ear to complain about the newfound loneliness in their lives now: the emptiness they feel in their 9-5 jobs, the lack of friendship they can keep, and disappearing free time to go explore life more. All of it they lament to you how nice it would be constantly outside and surrounded by nothing but the warm silence and greener grass every time you come and visit.

You have half a mind to protest those thoughts.

There’s nothing admirable in what you do: between the daily rounds of shooting, harvesting, and selling whatever scraps of meat and bones after sustaining yourself— what exactly is so admirable about it? With bloodied clothes rotten into a grimy brown when you’re done for the day and a heavier heart knowing all of your catches were simply a wrong-place-wrong-time as you once again steadied your rifle at the wounded creature for a quick death with a soft click.

But you don’t, no point in arguing about something like this, wondering about the limits of a “necessary sacrifice” too much.

And when you have to deal with months of being left on your own for the majority of the year, eventually you will learn to tune out your peers never-ending nagging for you to find a companion to accompany you in that empty cabin of yours before it’s all too late and you’re too grey and aching to settle.

”Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone waiting for you at home with a hot plate and to warm your bed while you’re away?”

From doctors and far-away friends, those type of sentiments never ends. While you are comforted by their worries, you never expected your long-time customers to join in as well when they hear about you in the bar as well…

Especially when one of them placed the box of indecent mags into your arms with the most shit-eating grin you ever seen saying the stuff will keep you company before driving off in a puff of clouds with that stupidly big red truck of his. You can distantly hear some midwest emo band booming out of the windows as he fades away into the distance with nothing more than the vibrant autumn leaves blowing behind him.

Usually you would had typically complained about such junk being left behind for you to deal with but— ‘the bunny suits are quite cute…’

You quietly thought to yourself, when you made your way back home, comfy on your worn leather couch with a mug in hand flipping through thick raunchy pages filled with hundreds of women dolled up in their colorful 60s cocktail suits in their complete bunny ensemble. From the fluffy yarn tail and bent bunny ears as they decorate themselves with big ol’ lashes and lace, honestly you felt a bit endeared by it.

The sharp cuts of skin as they prance around on the wide spread of pages and contort their bodies to meet the camera’s gaze to appease whoever is behind it, perhaps was a bit silly in your eyes.

While their intimidation will never come close to your big rabbit’s adorableness, you had to admit, those suits were quite a sight for sore eyes. Page by page, you moved from complete nudes to admire the cutesy blues and pinks to admire the classic black satin bunny suits tightly hugging the women’s figures snuggly.

Perhaps it’s a bit amusing to you, as a huntsman to watch the way people tried to make themselves more approachable: smaller, weaker, cuter— something worthy of being loved despite how non-animalistic they were. With naturally rounded nails, blunt teeth, and a lack of proper fur on skin to protect oneself from the cold, it’s no wonder why humans moved to advancing themselves to be stronger, all while attempting to return to a state of harmlessness just for the sake of being adored.

Maybe you’re just being critical.

There’s no harm in wanting to be liked, everyone does. Such is the nature of men. Perhaps you once felt that way before, but you’re older now, simply content with the hermit life you with your fewest closest friends to keep you company for the few times you all are able to meet throughout the year.

Plus, your big rabbit will be coming back soon. It’s nearly winter now, you can tell by the way the crisp winter breeze over your bare face every time you come outside to talk a walk around the forest.

It been three years since you made an unlikely relationship with König, the giant flemish rabbit that got his foot stuck in one of your traps. Yes, your giant huffy rabbit who is much too smart for his own good.

Sure, you never heard of a rabbit who can somehow open and closes doors when you shut him out to do work, or a rabbit who somehow can tell the time for meals, or even one that learned to wipes his paws on your floor mat before walking in your home after you scold him for bringing dirt onto your floors.

But he’s yours even if it’s just for the winter.

No way you’ll sell your long-eared friend, even if he breaks your wallet when you splurge on importing out of season berries for him to munch on. Though you do worry about him eating your meats occasionally, remembering the multiple occasions where he’ll furiously bounce off your lap to chase after your sandwich despite your complaints, but you did find a little laugh in you when he goes immediately bouncing away whenever you needed to change your dirtied clothes while he was in the same room as you.

It’s whatever, you don’t want no mad scientists knocking at your door to dissect your rabbit’s brain. If anything, they might take you and him if they see your sticky note galore all over your bedroom’s walls, something that you long had reduced after watching König chew on them. After watching you fuss and shoo him away from them, you could had sworn you remembered him smiling from beneath his fluff after he watched you cleaned up your cluttered papers.

Taking one last sip of your mug, you made sure to make a mental note to place the magazines somewhere high so that he won’t chew on them as well as you had long learned your rabbit is not fond of indecency…

Changing in front of him one time after getting your clothes covered in dirt from gardening had led him to flee under your couches and refusing to meet your eye or even cuddle you that entire winter, but you managed to cox him with treats finally when he came back around again.

Oh well, as your hands slammed the magazine shut, you made a note to place them high above your shelves so König won’t find them.

Winter is coming soon after all, and you can’t wait to see your fluffy friend once more.

—

While winter will bring its usual cheer and shimmer with carols and bells ringing up everyone’s doors, but for a lonely hunter? The cold snow will rush in a giant black rabbit squeezing his head into the dog door, something you had installed before when you didn’t made it home in time to let him in and leaving him to deal with the elements.

It’s something you had long cried about, furiously apologizing to the rabbit while clutching him to your chest before he butted your mouth shut, tired of hearing you sob for so long. He has a thick coat, he was fine, so be quiet now won’t you? There’s no need to feel bad.

So upon stepping into your empty cabin, he figured you had long been out dropping off last minute orders again.

Busy human you are…

It won’t take long for him to snoop around in his human form as he shifts, making sure to take his sweet time to stretch around. He can feel the way his bones crackle as his limbs bend and fold underneath his weight. Oh well, might as well through your shelves, just go and see if you added anything new since the last time he came.

Perhaps he shouldn’t been nosy, maybe that would had saved him from finding the the dozens of dog eared pages on your shelf littering his vision as his eyes dart back and froth at the scantily-clad ladies dressed up to the nines in the cheekiest bunny suits König had ever seen.

With the tight satin bows and lace wrapped around their forms, König could feel the heat arising onto his cheeks as his hands suddenly dropped the magazines with a loud “plop” onto your floors to rub his heated face, suddenly feeling very bothered, fiddling around occasionally squeezing his floppy hanging ears for comfort.

Why was he acting so shocked for? It’s not like you were some saint. Neither were you and him were something more than friends— So why is he so upset for?!

Humans and hybrids were already forbidden from interacting in the first place, that’s the one rule he had engraved into his brain until it became nothing more than another wrinkle on it. It’s what all hybrids learn as soon as they could speak, safety and survival, survival and safety. Do not approach the humans.

But König had never been the best listener, especially when he already been outcasted for being so big. Eating too much, growing too much, there was little he can do to appease his colony. A nuisance really, how can one grow so big?

‘He’ll do horrible in the winter, why bother keeping him around…’

Perhaps that’s why he’s so attached to you— you’re nothing but a giver of easy affection. Long cold days are filled with you cuddling him on your lap as you stroke his ears and kiss his face, calling him your baby and such.

He had to put a foot down at some names however when you poke his behind, calling him a “little mop” while he was eating some of your leftover egg salad.

But back to the present, as he takes one final glance over the playboy magazines on the floor, he wonders deeply of whether you’ll accept him like this. Half rabbit and human and all, something more in between that props couldn’t do… You seem to really like a half rabbit based off the pages so— you shouldn’t mind if he became your only choice, right as his equally large hands begin to crumble the photos.

There’s something funny squeezing his chest, he isn’t sure what it is, but it’s quite uncomfortable and all stuck in his throat as he breaths, only relieving itself more and more as he rips another magazine underneath his nails.

Maybe it’s something that he had been long avoiding. Something that is undeniably rabbit in his skin beneath covers back at the base. A heavy hand pushing down on the tent in his place thinking about how you’re strong enough to provide for him with all your territory in his dumb little rabbit brain.

He’ll be well protected. He won’t have to worry about safety anymore. It’ll be nice. So nice. He won’t have to come back to the dens anymore to appease his needs anymore.

It must be simple instincts for why he’s falling so fast.

Yes, that’s what must be it…

No such thing like fickleness of love awaits for him. It’s a rabbit’s nature to live fast and breed fast, no room for anything else.

But surely you can come to accept him in this form too if you have these lying around. Even if he is a little more realistically than the bunny girls in the magazines, right?

—

There’s very few things that makes you frustrated with life.

Whether that be taxes or bad customers, coming home to a mess of ripped and scattered papers at your door is the newest thing on that list when you came home from your orders to see what looked like an absolute tornado had ran though your living room.

Ripped bits of your playboy magazines scattered your vision as piles and piles of spewed about your home. Your once clean rooms now stuck in disarray with nothing more than the lingering mess of an upset rabbit.

Well, guess he was able to grab the box after all, you contemplate to yourself as you set your bags down.

Kicking aside a barely holdable magazine by your feet, you decided to follow the trial of scattered papers into your bedroom already wondering what ways you can appease your rabbit.

As you twist the knob, you can distantly hear the sound of claws scratching against your mattress as you sigh, pressing forward to swing the door open. With a loud “thump”, you step back, taking a moment for your eyes to adjust to the darkness of your room as your eyes scan over the familiarity of your aligned drawers and astray piles of unfinished laundry before your eyes fall on the abnormally large bump hidden beneath your bed covers as you stared, confused.

‘Surely a giant flemish can’t go through another growth spurt. Is that even possible? Did you fed him too much?’

You thought as you slowly, you approach the bed making sure to make your footsteps apparent to not scare him before gently patting the giant bump.

“König~”, you cooed, softly shaking the massive figure underneath your blankets. “What’s wrong baby?, I wasn’t that late. Don’t be too mad at me…” Attempting to coax your friend

Your hands smoothed over the wrinkles of the blankets, gliding them over the massive form. You really didn’t want to go through another winter without being able to cuddle him, he’s pretty much the only warmth you have regularly.

But when an undeniably human sob escaped from your covers instead of the usual sniffles your rabbit makes— immediately you didn’t stop yourself from ripping away your covers.

Your mind races as the downpour of cold sweat shrivels down your spine as you grabbed the sheets off. Cursing and all as you wrestled with the man underneath as you rustled with the sheets.

Please, anything but him— You beg to yourself. Stricken with the immediate grief of losing something dear once more in this sad life of yours.

But when your sheets were pulled away to reveal an awfully large man with huge floppy black ears running down on the side of his face as he stares at you with the saddest baby blue eyes you ever seen on his droopy face desperately trying to cover himself, ashamed as he squirms around in your grasp.

He struggles madly, almost like a buck on the loose as you fought with the stranger as strong nails caught onto your arms, not enough for you bleed but held yourself back from pinning down the man further when a familiar red collar wrapped around the fluff of his neck quickly caught your attention.

You aren’t exactly dumb to not connect the dots… But heavens, could someone give you some grace when you had to take a few moments to collect yourself! The last thing you could had expected is your dearly beloved rabbit is to turn into some— man-rabbit-thing overnight.

Well… That explains his abnormal intelligence and all now. Slowly, you let up your hold on König, still placing him firmly underneath you. Just in case if your friendship with him suddenly means nothing to him and he’ll go forever missing from you.

You decide to gaze upon the man once more, taking a long deep moment to take in the sight.

From the short black hair and wide blue eyes staring you down, you dared to caress his face as the man shivered. Smoothing your hand over his soft cheeks, your thumb brushes upon his brow and then down to the leftover scruffiness of his beard. Gently, softly, and slowly you moved your hands all over, admiring the strangeness he possess. You hear König begin to stamper as a widening smile begins to form upon your face. It’s strangely nostalgic, this moment between you two. Having him in your grasp, something hot rushes in your skin as you begin to laugh loudly, joyously at your friend’s new form.

He’s terribly cute, what is this nonsense? How dare he keeps this sight away from you! You complained silently as you reached down to begin kissing his forehead and squeezing those velvet laid ears of his to your heart’s delight as he squawks, embarrassed at your shamelessness once more.

Truly animals evolved to be too adorable to kill…

After much half-hearted struggles against your hold to satisfy your touch addiction with one last bite of his ears before dodging a swift punch, both of you finally settled upon your bed again.

You silently thank your past self for investing in a larger bed because no way can you and him can fit on your old twin size bedding.

König lays beneath you. Not meeting your eyes. Never moving, still. You could’ve mistake him for some poor road-killed animal as you laid between his strong legs, letting you enjoy yourself with squeezing the thick muscles underneath all that fat and the strangeness of rabbit hair brushed across that human skin.

Perhaps a moment had passed.

Maybe two.

You weren’t keeping count, too amused with squeezing his flesh as he laid, stiffed up in what looks like his deathbed.

But between the dead of the room, slowly those small warbled whispers beings to pour from your friend of how deeply sorry he was for deceiving, how he never intended to mask himself this long within the quiet. He was scared, he says, of what you’ll think of him, of when you’ll cast him away into the bitter cold to die because you couldn’t stand such a freak inside your walls. He continues, confessing his shame, how he was sorry for ripping up those magazines when he came back home because he got vicarious angry at the thought of someone taking his place. For those thoughts blistered inside his chest until it blackened and decayed into a gruel mush, something that was familiar to him once long before he had to run away from it. He explained how he tried to sleep it off while waiting for you to sooth his worries like you always do, he wasn’t expecting to shift during his nap and when you came in— it was just too late to hide from you.

And with those bated breaths, he now waits, still, once more for you. And from above, you take a moment to take in everything around you. You can hear the rumbles of your old radiator heaving outside your room, the drips of your constant sobbing sink, and mad winds banging against your windows to be let in your warm home.

All of it, you take in as König lays underneath you.

There are many things you can say in this moment. But there are also many things you can also just keep secret. You can say how you understand him, how you too are constantly afraid of other people around you, just thinking and existing within the same space, struggling and wondering if you are breathing too loudly, blinking too little, or looking a bit too unkept for them to harbor a dislike for you. But vulnerability is a soft organ gutted with nothing but squishy mass with nowhere to defend itself, and you aren’t too willing to expose such a soft jelly thing. So you decide to keep it short, merely saying how you will never abandon him because he’s your friend as his eyes widened, dead stiff hands now finally moving to properly hold onto you.

Maybe you’re going insane in your isolation but— he’s pretty much the only comfort you have, and he never did anything malicious to you as a rabbit so you’re not really keen on letting him escape. What hunter does such a thing when a pretty thing falls onto their lap?

He chose to be yours.

Not anyone else.

You hear sobs escape König lips when you press down your face to rub against his own. A gesture, familiar, he recognizes.

It’s what he does to comfort you as a rabbit. Yes, indeed you’re terribly fond of him. That, you can’t deny no longer as you brushed the tears down his round pink-ed cheeks. For you, a human, hunger for flesh the same way all men do. And when a lingering hand presses down his thigh, terribly close to the tent in his boxers, you grinned with glee when he quickly raised his hips in turn, pushing you closer to him with an endearing tilt of his head as those strong legs begin to gather around your waist, daring you to continue down your little trek.

Can anyone blame you when you jumped for the bait?

Oh well, looks like you’ll be in for a long warm winter.

—

You distantly remembered visiting a country fair at some point during one late summer when your grandfather was still alive and hearty and breathing with a characteristic pipe in his hand as you both strolled down the booth, looking to sell your small hunts for the day.

“Something to get you ready when you’re older and out all alone there. You suck at talking, y’know? Can’t charm customers with that shut-mouth of yours”, he said with a little attitude on his tongue. You huffed at his bluntness, too tired from chasing after pests yesterday before you two stepped into a tent-laid alleyway to peer into the petting zoo with its glamours of piglets, sheep, and hamsters all in their caged fences, staring bright-eyed and bushy for you to step in.

Though when you grandfather finally stopped to talk to a familiar face, some acquaintance that came by the cabin often, your eyes wandered about the room, hearing the clatter of voices blending away to an incomprehensible language as you grow grumpier at the uncomfortable heat of the room.

But something had caught your attention from afar you can see a tall wooden sign with splashy red letters listing in embolden letters that there are “Rabbits for Sale!” Curious, it led you wandering over to awe at the sight of sleeping rabbits inside their pen, just hidden within the back and all wrapped up in their hay, obscured and cozy within their own world as you creeped over to watch them.

You aren’t sure why you were so fixated on those creatures. Maybe because you were too used to the occasional possum banging up the cabin’s attic that made you interested in those small creatures. As you stared upon them, too long for you to admit, you can distantly hear someone chattering in your ear. You tuned out most of their words, flying into one ear and out the other, too accustomed to random strangers giving their mind when it’s not needed. But as you stared at those fluffy small rabbits, you distantly hear some snippets, something about “keeping them separate” and them being “fucking maniacs” because they’re so weak that they will keep breeding under any circumstances to continue their lineage.

And today?

You’ll laugh at how true those words are every time you pull on those stupidly soft ears of his, earning you a small squeal at the jolt of pain-turned-pleasure as his screams fall on deaf ears with every sweet thrust against his ass, switches between pleas for more and more outta you before attempting to run away as his feet kicks violently at the sheets as you push more soft little noises from his chapped lips..

‘How silly, your little bunny is’, you thought to yourself, as you paused to reach over to bite his meaty arms and cover them anew with deep marks up and down his arms as he moans into your ears, mewling as he takes this moment to catch his breaths. Long hefty gulps of oxygen rattles his lungs as he cries and complains at your bullying as he rubs his sore ears. The pleasure still had not left his bones as he tenses his hole, still feeling the remnants of your presence inside him when you pulled out to admire his debauchery. It wasn’t long before he begin meanly snipping at you to pick up the pace once more as he spreads his legs wider as a mixture of lube and cum sloppily drips down from the loosened opening before his head falls onto the mattress, passing out in pure exhaustion.

Fucking hell… You sigh at the sight, as you moved to take care of him.

There must be some sickness inside your head telling you to pick apart König more and more as the time flies by for it. For it been days since you two had left the house. Your back aches from strain. Muscles sore from repetitious movements. And there is a small festering headache arising slowly within your temples but— you can’t stop.

It must be an addiction now when you can feel your mouth salivate like a trained dog every time you see those strong hard-earned muscles collapses underneath you from exhaustion. And you can’t say it should be a surprise to you when you come to the eventual realization that König is utterly so damn needy. Despite your best attempts to sooth his libido with prepping his hole as much as you can at the start, bumping thick knuckles against his good spots only left him on a torturous edge as he fussed around and threatened to leave if you don’t put something in him already.

That of course, pissed you off.

What a fucking brat he is, coming into your house and asking you to appease more of his demands? Who does he think he is?! You finally had enough of that attitude of his that day, deciding to wrestle him to tie his arms together onto his back before you flipped him over onto his stomach to use as a handlebar. And just raising his hips high enough with some pillows for you to slam in immediately as you pushed many nerve-racking releases out of hm.

And oh boy, did you redeem yourself when you pulled those arms back into your hips, forcing out a small cacophony of deep groans and curses out of his throat before making him let out a sharp cry when you grab that fuzzy tail of his to maneuver him around as his dick rubs against the soft covers. Immediately starting his little tirade of how horrible you are before you shut him up with a few hard slams against his prostate and praising him when he did closed his mouth to stop those cute cries from spilling, embarrassed and too angry to give you the satisfaction of teased him as you laughed. That didn’t stop you for noticing how his ears perked up when you called him a “good boy” for “listening to you” as his hips subtly rose to press against you.

Or when you got him to ride you for a bit, thinking how pretty he’ll look atop of you as he crushes your hips. Though… You had to put a foot down when you realized how much he absolutely sucked at riding. With reddened eyes and nose dripping with snot, you watch as König barely raises his body up and down. Weakened from the onslaught of the bruising you had done to his bottom, he could do nothing more than hump against you, pleading you to take over for him. He’s too tired, please do it for him. He can’t, everything burns inside and you’re the only one who can make him feel better he says. Struggling to shake himself awake as those bunny ears flop around his face, and making him look so much more fragile in his ruined galore, freshly fucked and all shiny with afterglow.

You’ll have to ask him later to wear some mascara or eye black next time to watch them drip down his face as you mess him up again.

However, for now, you have to clean your big rabbit while you still can. In those small hours of rest, you’ll bathe and feed König to his heart’s content, nothing more than wiping wet towels across his skin and cleaning the covers as you feed some light foods and water to refresh him.

He had been good and you always will make sure to let him know that. But if he dares to say he’ll leave you one day?

There’s nothing but a little trap that wouldn’t do the trick for a big catch…

[lovelymylene]

happy VALENTINE

70s teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader

The radio hummed low and warm, a crackling thread of music weaving through the quiet of the car. Hamzah’s fingers tapped absently against the steering wheel, rings clicking against the worn leather, but his mind wasn’t on the road, wasn’t on much of anything except the girl beside him, laughing softly at something he said five minutes ago.

The car smelled like her perfume, like jasmine and something sweet, mingling with the faintest trace of cigarette smoke and the lilies resting in her lap. She had been staring at them ever since he gave them to her, running delicate fingers along the petals, like she couldn’t believe they were hers.

“Didn’t think I was the type, huh?” he had teased when she first saw the flowers, the stuffed bunny, the little box of chocolate-covered strawberries from his cousin’s bakery.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d actually try this hard,” she smirked, but there had been something softer in her eyes, something he recognized.

Hamzah had never cared much for Valentine’s Day. It always seemed like a scam, a way for people to convince themselves they were in love for the price of a heart-shaped box. But her? She changed things. If she wanted lilies and chocolate and soft things wrapped in ribbons, then he’d give her all of it. He’d give her more.

So now, they were nowhere. Just a stretch of road fading into darkness, the distant hum of the city swallowed by trees and open sky. He pulled off onto a hill, parking beneath a massive oak tree, its branches twisting against the stars.

“Is this what you do with all your dates?” she teased, turning to face him.

“Nah,” he grinned, leaning back against his seat, hands loose in his lap. “Just you.”

Her smile wavered, just for a second, but he caught it. She didn’t know how to take it when he was sincere, when he let his guard slip. He kind of liked that.

The car ticked softly as the engine cooled, the wind slipping through the cracked windows. She peeled open the box of strawberries, picking one up and holding it to her lips before pausing. “You sure you don’t want one?”

“I got ‘em for you, sweetheart. Knock yourself out.”

She rolled her eyes, biting into the fruit, the chocolate cracking softly under her teeth. Hamzah watched her, eyes half-lidded, something lazy and fond resting in his gaze.

“Alright, now you gotta try one,” she insisted, plucking another from the box and holding it out for him.

He smirked, leaning forward, but instead of taking it from her fingers, he just bit into it, teeth gently biting her fingertips.

She gasped, pulling her hand back. “Hamzah!”

“What?” he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, licking his lips, “but you like me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

The music played on, soft and unintrusive, some old soul song he didn’t know the name of. Outside, the world stretched on in every direction, but inside the car, it was just them.

He reached for her hand without thinking, just feeling the need to touch, to hold. She let him, fingers curling easily around his.

“You’re warm,” she murmured.

“You always say that.”

“Because you always are.”

She turned to him, fully now, shifting so one leg tucked beneath her. The moonlight poured in through the windshield, catching in her eyes, making them gleam.

“You’re staring,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” his voice was lower now, rougher. “What about it?”

She didn’t answer, just tugged on his collar, pulling him in, slow and unhurried. Their lips met in a kiss that started soft but deepened quickly, something languid and melting, like heat unfurling in the cold night air. His hand found the side of her face, thumb tracing the curve of her cheek, while her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging, teasing.

He sighed into her mouth, pulling her closer, like he could fold her into himself, keep her there. The world outside didn’t exist. Just her lips, her breath, the way she tasted like chocolate and strawberries and something he could never quite name.

“You really didn’t have to do all this,” she murmured against his lips.

“I know,” he whispered, kissing her again, softer this time. “But I wanted to.”

@issysh3ll

Happy Valentine’s Day my loves🎀

taglist.. @italiansunsetss @b1gba113r @sylvanianngirl @st7rnioioss-alt @sincerelykelsss @throatgoat4u @wiseladypoetry @gracieabrmslvr @sweetangelgirl7 @pearlzier @1-hypegvrl @piperrrr-16 @mackyyyk @luna443 @flowerxbunnie @cwemetrys @calliepie @cupidsword @notaboutlovebyfiona @recklesssturniolo @littlebookworm803 @blissfulxsins @camsturnz @st7rnioioss @rempessturniolo

[destinedfordiapers]

Closer to the Edge

“Why’d you stop, honey? Did you finish already? That was fast!”

You shake your head, utterly defeated, trying to catch your breath.

“No? Why not? What’s wrong? Are you making a stinky?”

Your face turns a deep crimson. “N-no! I…I just…”

“Well then why did you stop? Don’t be embarrassed! Be proud of your cummies! You deserve it, honey!”

As if humping your diaper is something to be proud of.

“Are you serious?” you argue, “I should be proud I ‘get’ to hump my diapers while my wife gets ready for a date? It’s bullshit!”

Her phone buzzes.

“One sec, honey.”

She reads the message, face flushing as she furiously responds, grinning ear to ear.

Like you’re not even there.

With a dramatic click, she puts her phone away and sits next to you on the bed.

“Honey, we talked about this. Sex is out of the question for you. I won’t be intimate with someone who poops and pees their diapers, even if you can’t help it. I love you…but I can’t.”

Her words cut through you like a hot knife.

“And I don’t want you getting confused seeing me in my panties or even worse, naked. It’s not fair to you. I know it’s hard to accept, but it’s for the best.”

“B-best? How is that for the best?”

She sighs like someone running out of patience with a petulant child.

“Because you’ll never have sex again, honey. Your diapers are permanent. You’re not getting out of them. So why would I lead you on? You can make perfectly good cummies with me fully dressed.”

“It’s not the same! If you can go fuck random people, why can’t I?”

Her laugh—that horrible, uncontrollable laugh—made you regret even asking.

“By all means, go out and try! But don’t say I didn’t warn you! I don’t make fun of you for your diapers. But you might not be so lucky. Isn’t it better to get your cummies with me?”

You remember the way your coworker looked at you when she found out.

The revulsion on her face.

Deep down, you know she’s right. Even if it means a lifetime of demeaning cummies.

She senses your surrender, sliding closer to you.

“How about I rub your diaper for you? Would you like that, sweetie?”

More than anything in this world.

You nod excitedly. She giggles at your enthusiasm as you expose your soggy diaper, lying back for her.

An electric shock of pleasure erupts as your diaper crinkles under her touch.

The crinkling of your diaper fails to drown out your moans. You close your eyes, lost in the ecstasy of your soggy diaper rubs.

“It feels so good, doesn’t it, sweetie?…So, so good…Show me how much you love it…your warm, wet diaper feels so good….make your cummies for me babe…”

You’re so lost in your own world you never notice she’s texting her date tonight with her free hand.

“Awww, someone made squirties! Good job! That was so quick for someone who ‘doesn’t enjoy it!’ C’mon, let’s get you changed, honey. That diaper isn’t going to last much longer.”

Once she’s done tending to you, she’s off for some real fun.

[stollengoods]

Fine, Let’s Play Dirty.

Thanos x Fem! Reader

REQ. Thanos Smut

Warnings: Cursing, fighting, & smut

Summary: “… And I’ll make her my bitch. She’ll love it.” Was the last thing Myung-gi heard as he tried but failed to hit Thanos. He Then saw stars before his vision went completely black as Thanos had successfully planted a punch to the right side of his face. Afterwards Myung-gi didn’t think too much into what Thanos had said, he figured he was just blowing smoke but should’ve realized what Thanos had told him was a warning. He’s coming for y/n.

————

“Hola, señorita.”

You turned around to see Thanos behind you. “Sorry, no hablo español.” You grunted, walking past him.

He let out a chuckle as he turned on his heel to follow you, “That’s okay, baby.” He replied in English, “I speak numero tres languages.”

You turned around crossing your arms and watched as both of his hands held up three fingers with different colored fingernails on each.

You blew out a breath, “What do you want Thanos ?”

His hands went to his chest as he stepped closer to you, “Hey hey baby, why so hostile ?” He asked with a voice full of concern.

You glanced up and down at him not even trying to hide the disgusted look on your face, as you took a step back.

“It’s your bitch of a boyfriend, huh ?”

You rolled your eyes and bit your lip to suppress a laugh, you knew it would only encourage him more.

“Mmm.” He hummed, waggling his finger at you, “I’ve seem to have strike a nerve.”

“You didn’t strike shit.” You spat and his eyes widened in surprise.

The venom in your tone even shocked you but you continued on, “-He’s not my boyfriend, not that it’s any of your business.” You mumbled the last part under your breathe.

“-And stop calling me baby, I don’t know you dude.”

You thought about walking away, but his reaction to you not only confused you but intrigued you. His posture seemed more cocky than before as he leaned against one of the bed polls beside him.

“Señorita, you don’t know me ?” He sneered, “Your lil boyfriend told me other wise.”

You tilted your head calling his bluff and he continued, “He said you fucked with my music.”

You laughed, licking your lips in nervousness, “Why would he say that, he hates you.”

That made Thanos smile, “He told me that you would play my music in the car and he didn’t understand why because to him it sounded like shit.” He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess he considered that an insult but I didn’t.”

You felt your cheeks burn, “I liked a few songs…” You confessed, not looking him in the eyes, “Like one or two, I wasn’t a fan or anything.” Your voice sounded pathetic even to you.

His index finger and thumb pinched your chin making you look up at him, “You don’t seem to be much of a fan of your boyfriend either.”

You squinted your eyes, “Again not my boyfriend.” You corrected, ripping your chin out of his grip, “And no I’m not the biggest fan of him… You’re not the only one who got financially screwed here.”

His eyebrows narrowed, “Wait. He had you invest in his shit-coin too ?”

“Yes.”

He scoffed, “What a dick sucker.”

“You’re telling me.” You mumbled under your breath.

“That’s the main reason I came over here.” Thanos explained, “I frequently see you guys arguing… I figured it was just relationship drama, but now I know why. It’s ’cause you’re one of us.”

You raised an eyebrow, “One of who ?”

“One of the people that shit-face scammed.” He scorned, “I thought he only did it to strangers on the internet but your telling me he did it to the people he loved too ? That’s just foul.”

You weren’t buying any of Thanos’s sympathy, “Why did you really come over to talk to me ?”

Thanos smirked, realizing you weren’t falling for his charade. “Okay, fine.” He raised his palms up, “You got me.”

Your eyes glared at him as he continued, “I can beat your boyfriend up all day long, okay ? It’s easy and getting kind of boring if I’m being honest.”

“I’m so sorry.” You monotoned.

He smiled, “It’s not your fault sweetheart.” He retorted and you rolled your eyes. “Anyways, I was thinking of ways I could mentally torture him and what’s better than getting with his girl ?”

Your mouth was agape as you took in what he was saying, “You know with every word that comes out of your mouth, you’re sounding more and more like a psychopath.” You commented.

He tilted his head with a gleam in his eyes, “C’mon baby…” He said, “You’re telling me you haven’t wanted to torture him both mentally and physically ever since he ruined your life ? Don’t lie.”

You made eye contact with him, “I’ve thought about it yes, but I would never actually-“

“Why not ?”

You shook your head, “Beacuse- I’m- I’m just not that type of person.”

Thanos sniggered, “Were all complex creatures y/n.”

“Yes, but there’s a clear difference between good and bad people.”

“Is there ?” He pouted, “I’m sure you didn’t think your boyfriend would tell you to invest in something only to take all your money away.”

You pursed your lips as you put your hands on your hips and looked away in slight embarrassment.

“What category would he fall under ?” He asked.

————

That’s how Thanos got you making out with him against the men’s restroom wall. You couldn’t argue with him, even tho you didn’t think that highly of him in the education department, he sure knew how to talk his way out of things or in this case into things.

Your hands tangled in his hair as you two breathlessly made out with each other. You couldn’t lie, kissing your ex boyfriend’s enemy did spike your arousal a bit.

Thanos pulled away, scanning your face, “Are you okay to continue ?”

You glowered at him, “Please drop the nice guy act.”

He didn’t smile or laugh, “I’m serious, I don’t mind fucking with assholes like Myung-gi but I never want to take advantage of women. Only pathetic pussy’s do that shit.”

You starred at him for a bit, trying to find any hint of deceit and when you saw that he was being completely sincere you almost wanted to jump his bones. You stopped yourself tho, not wanting to give him a bigger head than he already had.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “I’m fine.”

He leaned in re-attaching your lips to his, you decided to be a bit bold and slipped your hand underneath his pants, past his underwear to his cock. He twitched in your hand and that made you smirk into the kiss.

Not only was he big but very girthy, your mouth watered as you pictured him inside of you, stretching your walls. You used your other hand to guide his hand under the hem of your shirt. He got the hint from there and massaged your boob while he discounted his lips from yours to suck hickeys on your neck.

You reached your hand up to your mouth, spitting in it to then wrap your hand around his cock, stroking him this time.

“Ahh- fuck- Thanos.” You whined as he nipped at your neck, “Why are you biting so hard ?”

“I want to make sure he sees what I’ve done to you. If he doesn’t then what’s the point ?”

“So I’m just a pawn then ?”

He chuckled which tickled your neck, “Don’t act like you’re not using me as well.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You breathed.

“Make me.” He retorted.

You pushed him back so he was now facing you, “Do you want to fuck me or not ?”

“Of course, who wouldn’t ?” He smirked and god did you want his smart-ass to shut up.

A smile formed on your lips as you thought of a way you could make him shut up for once. “Get on your knees.” You commanded.

To your surprise he sunk down to his knees without hesitation. He peered up at you as if waiting for your next order. “Take off my pants.”

He hooked his fingers in your waist band and dragged them down. You kicked them off to the side as Thanos was about to take off your underwear as well. Your hand went to his hair and you yanked a fist full of it to the side.

“Ahh-“ Thanos grunted, his hands resting over yours on his head.

“Did I say you could take off my underwear ?” You cooed.

You released his hair as he looked up at you with a mixture of confusion and anger. You felt your arousal build being able to take control of a man who could easily dominate you.

“You can take them off now.”

He blinked his eyes a couple of times before doing as told. His eyes glazed over as he saw a string of your arousal disconnect from your underwear and drip onto the floor.

Once your underwear sunk to the ground, you kicked them away. Thanos’s hands gripped your thighs as he starred longingly at your soaked pussy.

“What are you waiting for ?” You cooed, looking down at him as he made eye contact with you.

“You’re permission.” His hands gripped your thighs as he looked back at your pussy, unconsciously licking his lips.

“That’s a good boy.” You smiled, reaching your hand down you used your index finger and thumb to pinch his chin like he did to you earlier. You brought his face closer until his lips touched your heat.

“Go ahead.”

Even though you were expecting his tongue in you, your body still jolted against the wall in a lovely surprise. His hands held a firm grip on your thighs as they already began to shake.

You couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips, the world around you fading away as all you could focus on was his soft lips kissing your clit and then periodically his tongue would lick your slit.

And just when you were about to hit your peak, he stalled the movements of his mouth. You were too much in a daze to notice until he stood up, hovering over you.

“Did I say you could stop ?” You rebuked.

He suddenly cupped the side of your face and pulled you into a very needy kiss. You tasted your juices on his lips and tongue as his hand reached down to circle your clit with his fingers.

“Listen here Señorita-“ His voice was husky and deeper than usual, “I don’t mind letting you take control every now and then but with me, control is going to be 50/50 you understand ?”

You tried responding to him, you really did but all you could muster were moans at the moment. His other hand that wasn’t occupied, grabbed your throat.

“Do you understand ?”

You frantically nodded your head, “Y-yes sir.” You squeaked out.

He smirked, “Sir ? I like that.”

He released your throat and your hands instinctively went up to it as you gasped for air. He placed his hand on your shoulder and shoved you to the floor. Your knees hit the ground first, your hands catching you before any of your upper body fell to the floor.

You were breathing really heavy now, due to the adrenaline rush. He was being very aggressive and you knew you should probably leave but for some reason you liked it. All your nerves were on edge as your body was in fight or flight right now, but all you wanted to do was fuck him.

You looked up at him, from were you were he looked like a giant.

“You know what to do.”

You gulped, before crawling forward and sitting up to pull down his pants along with his underwear. He was huge, if you had to guess 7-8 inches and you were both aroused and scared imagining him inside you.

You wrapped your hand around his base and licked the pre-cum off of his tip. A low moan escaped his lips as his hand laid on the back of your head. You licked your lips, feeling his lack of patience and took his cock into your mouth.

————

Nam-gyu saw you leave with Thanos earlier to the bathroom. And when he saw Myung-gi asking one of the guards to use the restroom he jogged up to them saying he had to use the bathroom as well.

Myung-gi didn’t say anything but gave him the stink eye. Nam-gyu just smiled in return as he followed after them. The guard stopped right outside the bathroom door as they both went inside.

When the door shut, Nam-gyu’s sweater paws covered his mouth in both awe and shock. He knew that you guys were going to hook up but he figured y’all would be in a stall; not out in the open to where just anyone can walk in and see.

His eyes flicked over to Myung-gi who’s fist were clenched and Nam-gyu acted quickly. Grabbing him from behind he put a hand over his mouth and dragged him back.

Thanos was admiring how well you were suck his cock when he heard some commotion and looked up to see Myung-gi trying to charge forward at him but Nam-gyu held him back.

Thanos smiled at him, giving him the finger before yanking you off his cock and pulling you up by your hair. He quickly flipped you around, your back against the wall as he lifted you up. You wrapped your legs around him and he turned to the side to drop you off in the sink.

You pulled him into a kiss, spreading your legs further for him to get better access.

“You want it, y/n ?” He breathed as he took his dick into his hand lining it up with your entrance.

“Yes~” You whined, “Please baby.”

His smile reached his eyes at your pet name, “Baby ? I thought you didn’t know me ?” He mocked and you weakly slapped his chest.

“Fuck- Thanos- please just shut up and fuck me !”

With that he rammed himself into you, moan after moan leaving your mouth as his pace was relentless once he was fully inside you.

Nam-gyu chuckled as he felt Myung-gi really trying to free himself from his grasp now. “Hey hey hey…” Nam-gyu cooed into his ear as your moans echoed off the walls.

Myung-gi muffled something into his hand that Nam-gyu couldn’t quite understand except for a few curse words that Myung-gi empathized.

He tsked into his ear, “You like watching your bitch get fucked, huh ? You fucking cuck.”

Myung-gi then bit the inside of Nam-guy’s hand, “Aish ! You fucking-“ He retracted his hands and Myung-gi charged towards Thanos.

He reached up to yank a fist full of Thanos’s hair back. Thanos hissed and cursed under his breath as he pulled out of you. You whimpered trying to grasp at him as he turned around.

You saw as Thanos threw a punch and hit somebody in front of him. You gasped not realizing anyone else was in here.

“Hey man, I tried holding him back as much as I could-“

You screamed as you saw Nam-gyu approach Thanos, frantically trying to cover up your lower half.

Nam-gyu flinched back at your outburst giving you the side eye, “Don’t flatter yourself sweetie.” He rejoinder.

You hopped off the sink and quickly gathered your clothes. While slipping them on you recognized the person on the floor to be your ex.

“What happened ?” You asked them as you kneeled down in front of him.

Thanos smirked, “He watched his girl become mine.”

You stood up, standing next to Thanos, “I am not your girl.”

“Oh really, baby ?” He mocked.

You rolled your eyes, “Fuck you.”

He chuckled, “You just did. You trying for round two ?” He gestured back towards the sink with his hand.

You glared at him but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Not if that freak is watching us again.” You said sneering at Nam-gyu.

“I only came to see the look on Myung-gi’s face when he sees his girlfriend getting dick down by another man.” He crossed his arms, “So fuck off.”

Thanos laughed, “Guys chill.”

Nam-gyu sighed heavily and you nodded your head.

“Is he dead ?” You asked, half-serious.

Nam-gyu kicked his leg, “Probably.”

Thanos waved his hand dismissively, “No, he’s just knocked out, he’ll wake up in a few minutes.”

“When we were leaving they announced dinner was going to be soon, you guys hungry ?” Nam-gyu said, tucking his hair behind his ears.

You looked over at Thanos and he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Yeah I could eat.” You shrugged.

“Alright, then let’s get the fuck out of here.” Thanos replied and Nam-gyu hollered as he kicked Myung-gi in his side and skipped out of the bathroom following you and Thanos.

————

(A/N): This was all over the place but fun to write lol

[violet-knights]

Crack fic where the 118 and co are all arguing about what color Bucks hair is

Maddie, Buck, and Bobby think he is blonde. Chimney, Hen, and Athena think he has brown hair.

They turn to Eddie and he is like well it depends and pulls out a whole PowerPoint presentation about how the lighting and environment affects it, how the sun will bleach it to look lighter and on and on and on as the rest of the cast just stare at him.

And then in the back Ravi just goes “I thought he was a redhead!”

[whowrotethenote]

ꜰʟᴀꜱʜɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛꜱ

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Summary: Brielle's life was the epitome of rags to riches. She had it all. Fame, fortune, and an older wealthy husband who kissed the ground she walked on. That is until haunting thoughts of her future where he became the only superstar in their marriage, forces her to fall into a downward spiral before her time.

Pairing: Roman Reigns (Joe) x Black Fem OC (Brielle)

Warnings: Age gap // Smut // Angst // Arguing // Addiction & alcohol abuse // Profanity

Word Count: 8.9k (once again, so sorry lol)

Inspo: Flashing Lights by Kanye West

A/N: I actually got the inspiration for this from another piece i’m working on, only it’s not fan fiction. I changed some things around. Same premise: young supermodel married to an older, wealthy and prominent man. If I ever decided to publish the original work, it will most likely be professionally (novel) not on social media. Anyway, this is a test run lol let me know what y’all think. Tell me what you like/don’t like. This is wayyy smuttier than the last jawn lol. Happy reading bitches!

Also, my taglist form is up. I'll add more options of posts to be tagged in as my blog grows.

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any media posted. Credit to their respective owners.

I do not consent to any portion of my writing to be reproduced or used in any manner without expressed written permission of myself, with the exception for the use of brief quotations.

This story is completely fictional. With the exception of OCs, I do not own any characters in this story. The pictures posted are for the intention of face claims and imaginative purposes. The ideas, stories, scenarios, and characters you are about to read about are a mixture of my imagination, and inspiration from real life whether it be loosely based on people I know or public figures. By no means should you take anything a character thinks, says, or does, as my way of expressing my own interpersonal beliefs and thoughts. The characters are themselves and I am me. Two completely separate entities. I am not trying to promote any lifestyle, ideas, or agendas throughout the book. I am simply telling a story. If you cannot grasp that concept, do not read any further.

“You want a refill, love?” The young, blonde bartender offered Brielle a weak smile that she returned. 

“Fuck it, why not?” She pushed the now empty martini glass aside watching her work. It wasn’t long ago that Brielle was the hustler on the other side of the bar. Every bartender had a sixth sense. One that told them who needed a drink versus who just wanted one. And Brielle was in desperate need of a drink. 

She turned slightly away from the bar top to scan the sea of people in the upscale ballroom before her, looking for one face in particular. Normally he wouldn’t be hard to spot. He stood six foot three, and was two hundred and sixty-five pounds of pure muscle. Only, the room was full of men with the same build in suits.

She tapped her expensive Russian manicure on the glass surface, squinting. She found him surrounded by a few of his colleagues and his boss, indulging in what looked like deep conversation. She fought the urge to roll her eyes knowing it couldn't have been that deep. Most likely the usual mindless chatter men share. Sports, pussy, wrestling, cars, politics and more pussy.

Brielle couldn't help but to stare. He was Dapper Dan, in an all black Tom Ford suit, hand-picked by Brielle herself. On his left wrist sat a two-toned AP. No diamonds. He had never been the flashy type. He didn't need to be. His aura spoke for itself, always giving away the fact that he was worth a billion before he ever even opened his mouth. Clean cut with a thick dark beard, lined to perfection. His shiny locks pulled back in his signature sleek bun. 

He must've felt her. His eyes locked in on her before she even noticed he was staring back. He flashed that billion dollar smile from across the room and Brielle almost forgot that she wanted to be anywhere else but where she currently stood. 

Just when it looked like he would make his way over, two more of his colleagues joined the group, reeling him back in. Oh, fuck me, she thought.

“Babe, while you're at it, how about a shot of Vodka?" Brielle asked with her head now in her hands.

The bartender chuckled at the only miserable seeming person in the ballroom. "Particular brand?”

"Whatever has the highest percentage.”

It was the week before a paper-view event. Summer-slam? Royal Rumble? Wrestle-mania?—Shit she didn’t know. She couldn’t keep up with that shit anymore than he could keep up with the endless runway shows and fashion weeks all over the world. What she did know? It was all a pain in her ass. The whole ordeal. The weeks leading up, the actual event, and all the fallout from it. Black tie events, interviews about storylines she didn’t have a clue about, terms she barely understood and unfamiliar faces. Worst of all? Her man’s hands were too full to assist in carrying any of her weight. 

He was the one. The whole WWE universe orbited around him and the rest of the Bloodline. That was means for him to be involved in every little aspect of the company. Pulled him every which way, in every direction. The forefront of it all.

In his world, Brielle always found herself taking a step back. She was used to being center of attention, all eyes on her, and the camera’s object of affection. But this was different. Sports entertainment wasn’t her lane. The cameras and microphones weren’t for her here. Its like someone picked Barbie up and dropped her in an all men’s gym.

"Here you go, love." 

Brielle’s night was starting to go uphill at the sight before her. A colorful martini and a clear shot filled to the brim of the shot glass. God bless the bartender.

“Thank you so much. Do I even wanna know what this is?” She picked up the shot first.

“Probably not,” she shook her head, already onto the next patron flagging her down.

Like it was water, Brielle got it down in one gulp and chased it with the Apple martini. She should’ve asked for a water. The shot ignited her insides like a furnace, waking her up immediately. 

“Oh, come on girl. It can’t be that bad.” Her lips curved widely into a genuine smile at the familiar voice. “What you got going on over here?” Jey held the martini glass up to his nose and jerked his head back with a screwed face. “I can’t get with that vodka, now.”

“Good. It's for the grown ups anyway.” He pulled her slim body into a comforting hug. “Where’s Kecia?” She looked past him for his wife, getting her hopes up that maybe this night wouldn’t be so excruciating if she had a friend. 

“Lil’ man got sick. I’m dolo tonight.” She audibly exhaled and flagged the bartender down.

“Yeah, i’ma need another one of whatever that was.”

He rubbed her bare back that was exposed in the silk Roberto Cavalli gown, in an attempt to alleviate some tension. He’s bore witness already on multiple occasions, of what the night could become after Brielle’s frustrations have been amplified by too many drinks. 

“Where’s that big-headed husband of yours?” He searched.

She waved a hand. “He was somewhere talking to Hunter in a huddle. I think I saw Seth with them. I doubt they’re in the same spot still.”

“Stay put,” he instructed before walking off.

Two shots and two drinks later, Brielle had opened and closed every app downloaded to her phone. She made useless conversation with the young blonde that fed her drinks, getting interrupted every time someone new came up to ask for a drink. It seemed like she was second priority to everyone in her line of sight.

She looked over her slim shoulder to find Joe, with Paul by his side, and to no surprise a camera and microphone in their faces. He stood with his big hands locked in front of him, listening to each of their questions intently.

The ballroom hosting the night was exquisite. The pinnacle of wealth. A three-piece chandelier hung from the center of the high ceiling. Spacious as can be with marble flooring. Cathedral-like interior, giving the room an ancient castle feel. White clothed table tops accompanied by groups of people, babysitting glasses of champagne, caught in conversation. Then there was Brielle. Secluded, getting drunk at the bar.

It’s not that Brielle was ungrateful or necessarily unhappy. What was happiness anyway? In a room full of prominent strangers, drink in hand, she thought about what happiness and living a fulfilling life meant to her before. Before all of this. Not just Joe and his world, but her new one too.

Before the flashing lights and glamour, it seemed so simple. She just wanted to survive. So happiness to her back then would’ve been the equivalent to just living, as opposed to surviving. And however that came, she was ready to snatch it by the balls and never let go. Didn’t matter if it was attached to a wealthy man, the lottery by some miracle, or just straight finesse.

Brielle had came a long way from sleeping on her sister’s couch and surviving off scraps of tips in a sports bar. She was scouted on a late night slinging drinks. An older caucasian man who was just there to watch the NFL game, ended up being one of the head photographers for French Vogue.

One look at her face, with exceptional bone structure, beauty mark planted naturally on her chin, soft doe eyes, and he was mesmerized. Inspired. He almost had to beg her to come to his studio and take a few pictures. It was New York. Any old pervert with a camera could come in a bar and lure a young beautiful woman to his “studio.” And although Brielle, starving for a change of pace in life and obviously struggling, with her long low ponytail loose from the chaotic night; that didn’t mean she had to be desperate or naïve. 

He slid his business card on the bar top. Still hustling and bustling to give the growing crowd their drinks, she didn’t even give it one look. “Just think about it, please!” He shouted with a thick accent over the wave of excitement after the Eagles made a touchdown. “My number is on the card!”

“Yeah, sure!” She shouted back uninterested. Almost a whole half hour after he left, she shook the alcohol-soiled card from off the bar top and when her eyes focused on the French Vogue logo, she nearly choked.

Damn right she called the next morning. Seven a.m. sharp. She had only clocked out three hours before and stole an hour of sleep.

He instructed her to come bare faced, in a white tank top, jeans, and her hair pulled back, just as it was the night before. She didn’t know he really meant just how it was the night before. When she arrived with a tight low ponytail, slicked back to perfection, he pulled it looser and staged a few fly aways.

He ordered her to move exactly how he wanted her.

“Chin up, please.”

“Raise your hand a little.”

“Turn slightly to the right.”

“Look away from the camera.”

She posed and posed, while he snapped away. It took hours. The whole morning had passed. He needed it to be perfectly imperfect. Although skilled in professional photography and supermodels being his area of expertise, Brielle was new territory for him. He had to find a way to sell the young distressed girl from the Harlem bar, with deer-like beauty, to the executives at Vogue.

They were looking for the next big thing. And while their eyes were on the next Bella Hadid or Kendall Jenner, he had something better in mind. Something more refreshing and relatable. When destiny placed him right on a path to spotting Brielle in that bar, he felt his whole life about to change forever. And it did. Right along with hers.

She wore stardom well. Fame fit her like it was custom made. The “It Girl.” Thats what they were calling her. Known for her doe eyes, the beauty mark, and her sharp east coast wit. She rose to the top of the food chain at what seemed like the speed of light. Everything had moved so fast. The flashing lights of cameras blinded her at every corner. A new city, a new country every other week. A complete one-eighty for a girl who prior to signing with her modeling agency, had never been outside of New York. 

She was partying with the A-listers and whoever was above them at the top of the social food chain. Gracing the cover of over three hundred magazines, both national and international. The most desired runway model of her peers. She was being pulled and stretched thin. She was zooming through life in the fast line, picking up nasty habits just to keep up. She was swimming in millions, so stopping or even slowing down wasn't an option.

The general public had their eyes glued to her. She picked up the attention of CEOs, NBA players, actors, and anyone else who mattered. Brielle had always been the kind of girl to live her life on the go. Never limiting herself to one man because she saw herself as too much woman for just one anyhow. She dated and fucked them all. Spent their money well and had them hanging off the edge of their seat for more. None of them stuck. None of them were special or so different from the one before. That was until she crossed paths with WWE Superstar, Roman Reigns, or as she would come to know him as, Joseph Anoa’i.

One erotic night spent with him after an ESPY Awards afterparty, and it couldn’t have been more clear to her that he had to be hers. She’d keep this one for herself. He was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Joe was a go-getter, just like her. They were cut from the same cloth. The breadwinners of their family, paving the way and making it seamless for everyone who came after them. 

When she found herself in Joe’s orbit, that fast life filled with nasty habits, slowed down a bit. Nothing else mattered. It's like they were the only two on planet earth and everything else was just distant noise. 

They married only three months after knowing each other. When you know, you just know. Of course the public had their opinions about how they were just another Hollywood couple that wouldn’t last, but majority of the world adored them. 

The wedding was like a national holiday. Vogue did an entire spread of them and it was flying off the shelves. That cover would be the one to define the entire state of stardom in their generation. It was everywhere. Joe sitting open-shirt, with Brielle and her half a million dollar Givenchy wedding gown, on his lap. Picture perfect.

Fiji was their honeymoon destination. An entire week off the grid. Nothing but love making, skinny dipping in the waterfall caves, and two people who couldn’t seem to get enough of each other, celebrating a whole lifetime they had left to get tangled in each other’s web.

Returning to the states was like entering into another level of life. It seemed her instantaneous marriage to Joe, took her status from superstar to legendary. She was Dior’s new muse and Joe was her older, wealthy, athletic husband. For the first time in all of Brielle’s twenty-five years of living, she was happy.

But that was back then. Three years later the stakes are higher. She’s adapted and now her ideas of what happiness is, have changed. She’d have to go back to the drawing board to figure out exactly what she wanted out of life. There were just a few hurdles and demons she’d have to address before then.

Her alcohol dependence for one. While most supermodels indulged in coke or popping pills, Brielle’s fatal flaw was alcohol. It started off as her just blacking out at parties like everyone else would. Then it escalated. She became the party girl. Always dancing on tables. Skinny dipping in someone’s pool. It was harmless until she started getting into scuffles in nightclubs. TMZ catching her and Joe having a screaming match where she was obviously drunk. Picking fights and starting shit with him at public events, like the one they were at now. 

She clung to drinking because it helped her cope, especially lately, with the fact that the life she was doused in and became accustomed to, wouldn’t always be. It haunted her.

All models have an expiration date. She dreaded the day when it came. It would come like a thief in the night she had heard. One day she’d be trending, booked and shoved on every platform possible. The next day it would all vanish. She’d go from being Joe’s sexy, young, supermodel wife, to just his wife. 

Alcohol was her companion. Alcohol was there on the lonely nights, early mornings, and impossibly long days. Alcohol was there on nights like tonight, when she felt alone in a room full of people. When her mind was overrun by dark thoughts of the unforeseeable future, where her career and everything she worked for would be in limbo. 

Joe just didn’t get it. Women were treated accordingly based on their looks. Men were treated accordingly based on their pockets. He could be retired and worn out and they’d still love him as long as he was paid. This wasn’t her reality. And there bore another disconnect in their marriage.

She loved Joe. There was no denying that. A blind man didn’t need to see it, because just by standing within two feet of them he would be able to feel it. From the night they met, neither could ignore the magnet-like, invisible force, urging them to one another. First night, nothing but heat and passion transpired between them. And it stayed that way every night after, only growing. But sometimes passion painted an ugly picture. People were passionate about addiction. Others passionate about racism. Passion is not synonymous with healthy.

They came colliding into one another from two different worlds, seemingly at the same pace. Young, hungry, and swimming in new money. Only he was oil and she was water. Brielle just always felt like a jaguar in a room full of house cats. Completely out of place. Out of her element. Too much. Their worlds just didn’t mix. Or so she thought…

“Brielle?” A feminine voice questioned not too far from behind her. 

Brielle paused her idle twisting of the wedding ring, weighing her left hand down, to turn to the voice in question.

A yellow-boned, thin woman, as tall as her stared back with an infectious grin. She had thick, wavy curls, cascading down her back. The emerald green silk gown she wore only enhancing her smooth skin. The bitch was bad and still, Brielle couldn’t pinpoint where she knew her from.  Brielle’s eyes somehow landed on the red birthmark that adorned the mystery woman’s right hand and it hit her like a wrecking ball.

“Millie?” Her head dipped. “Oh my god.” The two beauties conjoined in a hug and rocked side to side chuckling in equal disbelief that they had found one another. “What are you doing here?”

“Girl, modeling was a bust. Trying to dip my toes into this sports journalism thing. I’ve just been interviewing some of the guys on the roster before Summerslam next week.”

Millie had been one of the very few models Brielle took a liking to during her early years doing runway. During her first fashion week they were glued to each other’s hip. Exchanging gossip,  sex stories, walking tips and beauty secrets. 

It had been nearly two years since she laid eyes on her. It's like she had vanished from the face of the earth. That happened a lot in the modeling industry. So many pretty faces came and went. It was hard to keep up. She chalked it up to her probably getting sent to rehab for a coke problem or something. Thats usually where the models disappeared to. That or a billionaire from another country scooped them up.

Born to two Cuban immigrants, Millie was just trying to get ahead in the city of dreams, but nothing about her stood out to scouts and labels. She had a killer walk, but runway was all she could pull off. Her face card was exceptional, but it wasn't memorable. And anything other than memorable in the modeling world would get one tossed and forgotten quick.

“Where’s Joe?” Millie’s eyes danced around the room.

Brielle’s eyebrows shot up at the mention of her husband. His name fell so comfortably from the girl’s plump lips, it's like she’s said it a thousand times over.

“Joe?” Usually people who didn’t know him referred to him by his stage name, Roman. Millie had to have been somewhat familiar with him to call him by his name.

“Yeah,” she waved almost with a child-like giddiness once she found him across the way. He put a big hand up and nodded once to acknowledge her. Brielle tried to keep her face neutral, observing the whole exchange.

“Y-you know Joe?”

“Of course I do. He didn’t tell you?” She grinned wide.

Only Brielle’s eyes looked around in wonder. “Tell me what?” She chuckled to ease the underlying tension.

“Joe and I dated. Way, way back in the day.”

“Dated?” Her doe eyes became significantly wider. “Well, when was this?” She probed through a tight, manufactured smile as to not throw Millie off.

“Oh, girl,” the Latin beauty waved a dainty hand chuckling. “That was so long ago. He was still with The Shield, then. Didn’t even have a full beard.” Brielle tried to swallow an insult. It was on the tip of her tongue as she watched Millie eye her husband with nostalgia all in her gaze. No, she wanted her to keep spilling. She knew Joe would downplay it, so this was her best bet at collecting the truth.

“I was so happy for you guys after the proposal.” Millie finally snatched her eyes from Joe to focus on Brielle. “And that cover and spread in Italian Vogue? Fucking iconic…” It was now Brielle’s turn to burn a hole through her husband. She tried her best to not let the thoughts running through her mind, show on her face, but it was all in the vein that made itself visible on her forehead. The constant rubbing of her fingertips. If Millie touched her, she’d probably jump like she had come in contact with a stovetop burner. “It's crazy though,” Millie continued with her head cocked to the side. “Joe never struck me as the marrying type. Don’t get me wrong he’s an absolute sweetheart. I just couldn’t see him sitting in one spot long enough for just one woman to catch his attention. I guess men really do change for who they want to,” Millie finished with a drawn out sigh.

“Yeah. I guess they do, huh…”

“Well, this was a shock.” Millie stretched her arms out and Brielle came in for another hug. Her smile faded once she rested her chin on her shoulder and reemerged after pulling back.

“It was really nice to see you, Mills. Good luck on the whole journalism thing.”

Millie flashed Brielle another bright smile and walked off in a direction she wasn’t paying attention to because she was too busy glaring at Joe still.

There were days when Brielle took into account what the public had said about her marriage. That it was fake. For publicity. Or that it simply wouldn’t last because of how fast the two seemingly fell in love. 

They didn’t waste any time. Fucked on the first night. Vacationed together a week after. He was moving her in just a month later. Before Brielle knew it, he was down on one knee asking her to spend the rest of her life with him. Her infatuation with the kindhearted man who looked like he could kill anyone with his bare hands, drove her decision. She loved the way he took charge of his life and career, and turned the entire business in his family’s favor. How he kicked cancer’s ass. How every room he went in, people couldn’t help but to stop and stare.

It seems they did everything backwards. Got all the big hurdles out the way and worked their way down. Brielle found herself at times dumbfounded at just how little she knew about Joe’s past. Too many times she’s had to sit and listen to someone tell her something about the man she slept next to.

She’s not stupid. Of course there were women before her. I mean look at him. But a model? Models were such superficial creatures. Always caught up in glamour and materialistic matters. Joe was too grounded and down to earth in Brielle’s mind to bat an eye at what the world viewed as a mannequin. She thought she was the exception. Clearly not.

From across the way, Joe caught his wife staring at him again. His mouth curved into a smirk and he winked at her.

“Sexy, two-faced bastard,” she mumbled bringing the glass of vodka to her lips.

The couple rode back to their penthouse in an uncomfortable silence. After any event, the partition  was rolled up so Brielle could bless her man whatever way she saw fit. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other. But tonight, she clung to the left door in the back of the black Suburban, eyes never leaving the tinted window, gazing at the bright lights that decorated the city. 

Joe gave a harsh side eye to her. The deliberate space she placed between them by crossing her legs to the door was a dead give away that she was pissed. Physical touch was a shared love language between them. The absence of it could be felt immediately.

He refused to gauge what the issue was in such a confined space. That mistake was made several times before and never ended well. He’d have to wait until they were alone and in the comfort of their own space.

She didn’t realize, but his eyes were on her all night while she threw each glass the bartender fed her back like it was the fountain of youth. When Jey found him they both exchanged looks. It didn’t need to be said. The soft spot Joe’s cousin grew for Brielle, couldn’t overshadow his concern for her obvious drinking problem. He and his brother Jimmy got a front row seat to the downfall of America’s beloved couple. Too many nights having to chase an intoxicated Brielle down, or dragging them apart from verbally destroying each other.

All night, Joe’s anxiety grew like wildfire with every drink and every minute that passed where he couldn’t just leave with her. Now, in the backseat of the truck, he rubbed his forehead already feeling a headache from the argument that hadn’t even happened yet. He wished he could just press a button and fast forward to the part where they fucked and forgot about whatever the problem was.

When they got to their building, she stormed out of the car not bothering to wait for the driver or Joe to open her door like usual. Ignoring the doorman and the lady at the front desk she usually greets, her heels clicked aggressively on the marble floor of the lobby all the way to the elevator. 

Joe stood behind her near the back elevator wall. He bit his bottom lip at the deep line in her back that led to her perky ass. Even with her attitude, he had the urge to rip her clothes off and fuck it right out of her. The elevator dinged when they reached the top floor. She wasted no time breezing fiercely through the foyer area, and collecting the bottom of her gown in her hands to stomp up the wooden floating stairs.

“Brielle, bring your ass back down here.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. Brielle had fell in love with the way he could make the world and everyone in it shift without doing too much. Not tonight though. No, tonight the control he had over her pissed her off to no end. She turned around in the middle of the steps, but defiantly didn’t make a move to come down. Instead she stood her ground and crossed her arms like a child about to be grounded.

“Alright. Let’s get this shit over with.” He removed the suit jacket and laid it over the back of the all white loveseat and rested his hands on his hips. “What has pissed Brielle off tonight, huh?”

“Besides the fact that my husband has been passed around?” She shrugged throwing the first punch. “I don’t know.”

He chuckled in disbelief. “You wanna elaborate, sweetheart?”

“You and Millie? Why didn’t I know that you two dated?”

“Dated is a very generous word. More like slept together.”

“Don’t try to downplay it, okay? Doesn’t matter what happened between you two. Why did I have to hear it from her?”

“I don't understand what’s pissed you off? The fact that I’ve fucked with other women before you?”

“I’m not talking about other women.” She slapped the back of her hand to her other palm sharply. “I’m talking about one woman. A woman I considered a friend. A friend I told you about!”

His shoulders shrugged almost high enough to reach his ears. “Why does it matter? You knew her like two years ago—”

“It doesn’t matter if I knew her ten years ago, damn it!” She stormed down the stairs and brushed past him to the kitchen. Unbuttoning his shirt, he shook his head knowing what she went in there for. More alcohol.

Cabinets opened and shut continuously, until he heard her heels making their way back to the living room. She stood across from him vexed.

“I threw it out,” he answered the question she didn’t have to ask. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he was ready for however she would react. 

She scoffed and giggled at once. “Don’t you think my drinking is the last thing you should be worried about right now?”

“What could be more important than you getting healthy?”

She rolled her eyes looking to the ceiling with a forced smile. “I can’t believe this. I sat there all night watching you work the room. By myself! While you work, you expect me to just sit in a corner like a fucking mannequin? Smile and look pretty, right? Don’t say a word, don’t draw too much attention? Well tell me, Joe, what would you have done tonight?” She held a hand up. “Oh wait! Don't let me forget, just when the night couldn’t get any worse, I have to hear the horror story of how my husband and my friend used to fuck!”

“You are so fucking ungrateful,” he shook his head removing his cufflinks. “Unbelievable.”

“Un—” She scoffed. “Ungrateful?” She turned her head as if she didn’t hear him right.

“Thats right,” he nodded with a face void of any expression. “Look around you. Look at where you are.” He spread his toned arms out wide. “In a penthouse overlooking all of Brooklyn. Five  hundred thousand dollar dress on. Closet full of designer that could feed a fucking third-world country. Fucking thousand dollar sculptures from Italy, just for it to sit on a glass table all day.” Brielle flinched at the Versace Rokko Cheetah sculpture flying to the other side of the room and shattering. Just as quick, she straightened up, knowing he wasn’t crazy enough to take his frustrations out on her that way.

“What’s your point, Joe?” 

“My fucking point is, I put you on the highest pedestal possible and I work my ass off every day to make sure you can live like this. And all you seem to be worried about is some bitch I was smashing, back when I used to bring a damn blow up mattress with me to arenas?” He squinted in disbelief. 

“You’re missing my whole point!”

“What point?!”

Back and forth they shouted, but still neither one of them heard the other. It was all pointless. Just a battle of pride and resentment.

“Oh my god,” he threw his hands up. “Oh my god. This is fucking stupid. I can’t believe this, is what you want to fight about.”

Brielle’s chest stung and her eyes followed suit. Her feelings were stupid now. Just a blimp on his star-studded life. There was a point in time, where every little need, every little voice of discomfort, he would fall at his feet to correct for her. 

She turned and rushed up the steps. She was overwhelmed and refused to keep the yelling match up. In their walk-in closet, she let the dress fall and pool around her feet, to change into her mint-colored Juicy Couture sweatsuit. She stuffed an LV duffel with clothes and headed to the bathroom next to sweep everything that was hers off the counter and into the bag.

Unfazed by her theatrics, Joe sat on the couch downstairs, shaking his head at all the ruckus she was making. 

“G’head,” he waved. “Leave. You’ll be back anyway.”

“Fuck you, Joe!”

“Yeah, sure.” He sat back on the cream colored couch, arms outstretched, dress shirt unbuttoned, without a care in the world.

Brielle and him both knew she wasn’t going anywhere. It was the same shit every time. They’d argue and fuss all night, she’d threaten to leave, packing a bag to stay in an expensive hotel, paid for with his black card. He’d show up with an expensive gift. Usually jewelry. Maybe a bag by some designer that hadn’t even hit the shelves yet. A trip to an island she had never been before. Shoes. Those were her favorite. She had a whole collection in the walk-in, courtesy of Joe. Each pair she could pinpoint which argument it was a result of.

After the grand gift, it was make up sex and they’d be in the honeymoon phase for two weeks tops, then the cycle repeats. Joe had grown tired of it. Two years ago it was exciting and far left from the good girls with degrees he was used to.

Brielle was a breath of fresh air until her ways started to suffocate him. She had a personality that was larger than life and an attitude to match. Included in the packaging was a love so fiery and consuming, you forget to breathe. And although he had seen enough, been through enough, and was old enough to know better, he still found himself from time to time gasping for air after forgetting to breathe around her.

She was like a drug. Potent, exhilarating, and unpredictable. He was hooked. And unfortunately for the both of them, he wouldn’t know how to get off her even if he tried.

Bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way back downstairs and all the way to the door.

“Brielle…” The sound of his baritone voice had her frozen in place. He closed his eyes and inhaled deep from his nose. “You walk out that door and you gon’ be sorry.”

“I just need space—”

“Then pick a room. It's real spacious in here.”

Brielle turned and made her pursuit back to the stairs. He wasn’t going to let her leave tonight. She didn’t just want space, she wanted the one thing she depended on when it felt like the walls of her life were closing in on her. And he was actively trying to take that away from her.

“I hate you,” she spat with venom in all three words.

The foot that was previously propped up on the glass coffee table came down as he sat up, elbows rested on his knees.

“Im sorry…what?” 

“You heard me.” She started back up the floating steps, but halted upon seeing him rise to his full height in her peripheral. She had only made it to the third step. She turned in place and there he was at the bottom, eye level now.

“You wanna repeat that again, while I’m standing right here in your face?” He dared, hands clasped in front of him.

She knew better than to test him. Hate wasn't something they just tossed back and forth. Irritation, maybe. Disgust even. But hate? Joe didn’t play that shit. Not with her or anybody else in his circle.

He nodded with his tongue just barely teasing the hairs on the side of his mouth. “Yeah, I thought so.”

“That fucking character you play,” she squinted looking him up and down. “It’s not a fucking character! You’re a narcissistic, manipulative, controlling—”

“You were singing a whole different tune this morning.” Her mind flashed to just fourteen hours prior when he was balls deep, quite literally driving her up the shower wall. In the aftermath they held each other as she told him how much he meant to her and how he changed her life. The man from this morning and the one in front of her were two different men with the same face.

She shook her head holding back tears. “You’re never who I need you to be when I need you to be it,” she exaggerated. Joe always knew who to be. Always knew exactly where it hurt. If he showed up as something different it was seldom and with purposeful intent.

Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Well maybe if you opened your fucking mouth and told me what you needed, I could provide it. But, no. You’d rather look for answers at the bottom of a shot glass! So tell me, Brielle—tell me! What do you need?!”

“I don’t know!” She screamed in frustration and was snatched off the steps by the front of her hoodie.

Their lips collided. Two tornadoes full of angst coming together to form what was their complicated ass marriage. 

See, Joseph Anoa’i the man outside of the ring was delicate and considerate. He displayed affection as much as he could and never touched Brielle with any thing less than love. However, the man he was in the bedroom, or wherever else he saw fit to take Brielle down, was a beast. Unforgiving and relentless. His ring persona, Roman Reigns, took over him like he had a split personality. He manipulated, tossed and flipped Brielle’s slim frame however he wanted her. Narcissistic in the way he couldn't care less if he hit it so hard that she couldn’t breathe.

Tonight was no different. As a matter of fact, tonight he had something to prove. It was deeper than just make up sex, or angry sex. He intended to break Brielle down. Resentment and frustration grew inside of him like weeds, all stemming from Brielle’s misbehaved, toxic and unpolished ways whenever she got an ounce of liquor in her. The garden was no longer pretty. He was tired of faking the funk. He was going to put his foot down tonight, making sure she felt all the consequences of her actions.

His big hands slid down to the back of her knees, hiking her up so her long legs could wrap around his waist. He never broke the connection. His thick tongue continued to invade her mouth, claiming what’s his.

The pair expended all their breath and stole more from one another. That was the complicated formula of their bond. Give and take. Take then give.

Brielle stared up in awe at the god before her after he released her onto their all white couch. Every ridge and line in his abdomen telling a story of his hard work and dedication to his craft. He removed the black button up to reveal the rest of the artwork on his right arm, never breaking eye contact with his wife. His manhood made an impressive print through his slacks as it begged for freedom.

Brielle wasn’t moving fast enough for him. In fact, she wasn’t moving at all. She was too mesmerized by the sight of him. Good enough to eat, she thought. Every time she saw his body it felt like the first time.

He tore the zipper of her Juicy hoodie down in such haste to reveal her chocolate nipples, he broke it. Before Brielle could complain, she was flipped over and put on all fours. The waistband of her sweats were pulled down to her knees, exposing her warm core to the cold air.

A gasp escaped her lips as they fell wide open from the feeling of his entire mouth latching onto her most sensitive nerve. The entirety of his palms covered both ass cheeks, as he spread them apart to feast on her.

He didn’t have the patience for formalities. She didn’t deserve it anyway. He attacked her clit, switching from sucking and licking with broad strokes of his tongue.

 “Oh my—fuckkkk.” Brielle was stuck between pushing back into his mouth and running from it completely. She wouldn’t get far. The grip his rough hands established on her ass would lock her in place.

“Sweet ass,” he mumbled into her. He pulled away for a second to bite down on her left cheek before going back to eating. A pit of pure ecstasy formed in her lower stomach impossibly fast. She shut her eyes tight, prepared to explode, listening to the wet sounds of him demolishing her and his hefty breaths. Her breathing accelerated while she reached for the pillow to gain some type of hold. And just when she thought she would reach her peak, she was left with nothing.

Joe pulled completely away once he decided she was ready for him. Something like a whimper left her pouted lips. He took his time unbuckling his pants and releasing himself from the confines of his briefs.

“Stay down,” he demanded in a dark tone that sent a chill down her spine.

Brielle felt like a junkie, waiting and barely able to keep still. Joe’s tongue slid out over his top lip at the masterpiece before him. His supermodel wife, bent over and her wet, fat center exposed, waiting for him. His dick jumped and he grabbed the base of it to align with her pussy.

His thick mushroom head glided along her arousal, coating himself to prepare for entry. She struggled to keep still. He kept grazing over her sensitive bud and it was torture. She knew he was doing it on purpose. It was wicked how he watched her desperate, contorted face and listened to her pants knowing he could put an end to her misery.

“Joe—Uhnn!” Brielle release a guttural moan from him pushing himself all the way in and bottoming out. Joe stayed there for a minute trying to brace himself. The grip and slickness always felt brand new. She was a hot head with an even hotter pussy, making it nearly impossible to leave her alone. He’d lose his mind just at the thought of another getting to experience this after him.

Without warning he palmed the back of her neck so her face was flush against the couch cushion and he snapped his hips against hers repeatedly. Mercilessly.

“Get off me.” He shoved the arm she reached back, careful not to lose his rhythm. Although small, as a result of her strict diet and expensive Lagree classes, that ass still jiggled with every thrust.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Ahh!” She moaned out every time he shoved his thickness back into her. 

“Shut up,” he jerked his hips as far as they could go and got comfortable. It felt too good to move and he was determined to make her lose her fucking mind.

Brielle’s mouth fell wide open. She didn’t know what she felt. The line between pain and pleasure started to blur. She reached a hand back, in another attempt to make him ease up, but he caught it just in time and pinned it behind her small back in a vice grip.

“Joe—

“Shut the fuck up,” his top lip curled, thrusting into her again with the same force as before. “I don’t wanna hear none of that shit. Fucking take it.” His free hand came down hard on her ass, immediately causing red welts to form.

Brielle was a glutton for punishment. Her pussy contracted and it was so wet she could hear the squishy noises like somebody was playing in running water.

“You hear that shit, Bri?”

“Yes, baby. She’s so wet for you."

“At least she’s honest.” His breathing was erratic as he tried to talk shit and fuck her at the same time. “She always shows me love.” His hand came down again and he relished at the sight of her ass with new welts forming.

“Fuck!” She cried. Another smack. Then another. His pace never faltering. He let his bottom lip sink between his teeth, concentrating on how his dick slid in and out of her effortlessly. She left him shining and covered in white stuff. Every stroke wetter than the last.

“You hate me, Bri?” His eyebrows furrowed. She tried her best to look back at him. A sheen of sweat covered him and his hair had fell wildly over his broad shoulders.

Joe’s battle with leukemia had him holding everyone he loved in a vice grip, close to his chest, fearing the day he ever had to let go. He didn’t have the luxury to invite negativity and hate of all things into his space. Which is why when Brielle expressed it earlier, it triggered something in him.

Brielle shook her head as much as she could. “No—no!”

“Huh?”

His larger frame hovered over hers as he leaned over and gripped the back of the couch to push harder into it from a different angle.

“Oh god! No—baby I swear I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it. Fu-uuuck!” Her voice shook as she tried to reason with him.

“Tell daddy how sorry you are,” he toyed with her. Joe only needed to hear it for his own ego. He already knew she was sorry. She looked the part. Brows turned down, hands reaching and grasping to hold onto something, while she struggled to breathe and keep her eyes from rolling to the back of her head. Pathetic.

She tried to catch her breath and fulfill his wishes, but his every move sent a shockwave of pleasure right through her. All she could focus on was the feeling happening where they connected.

“Say it,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“I-I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, daddy. It won’t happen again!”

“Yeah, I know it won’t. Mhm, fuck.” His ways were backfiring on him as he felt the pressure for release build in his lower stomach.

Slowing his movements down, his hand came down on her ass again. “Come on,” he instructed. She already knew the drill, rocking back and forth on him at her own pace to help them both get to the finish line.

Together they ogled at one another. Brielle in complete awe at what he was doing to her body. Joe mesmerized by the beauty below him and trying to reconcile how she became his biggest problem.

He loved the fuck out of her. Would do anything for her. His favorite accomplishment. He vowed to spend the rest of his life with her, but everyday they spent together, that dream grew more out of reach.

How could something so ethereal looking be so problematic? So angry? So insecure?

Small whimpers and cries spilled from her throat before she made a declaration that calmed him as much as it terrified him.

“I’m gonna love you forever,” she declared. It was like a hex. A spell. Binding him to her forever. Cause the hard unshakeable truth was that as long as Brielle wanted him here, he’d never leave. No matter how many fights, how many crash outs, public incidents, he knew leaving her alone would leave him suffering.

Against his initial mission to punish her, his soft nature took control. He leaned all the way down to capture her plump lips in a kiss. He left a trail of open-mouthed kisses from her mouth to her cheek, until he reached her ear. Whispering a mix of loving reassurances and vile obscenities to her.

“I love you so much, Bri. Keep fucking me, baby. Just like that. Yesss. You feel so good,” he encouraged in between huffs of breath. “It’s all yours baby. Take it. Just yours. Nobody else’s.” His deep voice directly in her ear and the smell of her own arousal lingering on his beard, sent her body into overdrive as her pussy spasmed around him.

Brielle’s orgasm caused a chain of reactions. His dick swelled inside her while his balls tightened. At the last second he pulled out and covered her round ass with his release. She wasn’t on birth control and loathed the idea of kids ruining her physique.

He stroked himself until the last of his cum oozed out and threw his head back. “Mm,” he groaned. Shame on Brielle. She laid on the couch, head spinning from the beating she just took mixed with all the shots she took earlier. She was just about ready to call it a night, but Joe had other plans.

“Not done with ya ass yet. Come show me how sorry you are.” Like he had just ran a match fighting off guys twice his size in the ring, his chest rose and fell as his voice became menacingly deep.

His tall frame stood in the living room, widening his stance with his hips slightly pushed forward. His dick was covered in her essence, still hard as a rock, swaying slightly from him shifting his weight back and forth on both legs.

She climbed down from the couch, knowing better than to make him wait. Crawling like the feline she was at heart, she stopped right in front of him. God, he was just fucking perfect. All she really wanted to do was climb on him and drag another nut out, but it had to wait.

Placing her dainty hands on his muscular thighs, she gazed up him and ducked slightly to swirl her tongue on his large balls. "Yeah," he breathed deep, savoring the feeling of her warm mouth.

She took his heavy dick in her hand, giving the tip teasing licks and swirls. The visual of her on her knees worshiping him was a sight to see as she gathered spit and let it ooze onto him before sinking his length into her mouth. She squeezed her eyes shut, pushing him as far as she possible could.

“Look at me,” he instructed in a guttural tone followed by a moan. It was music to her ears. Everything about him turned her on. She studied him and the look of mixed lust and love he provided as their eyes locked, prompting her to slide a hand down and rub herself. “That’s right. Get it wet for me.” He rocked back and forth in her mouth, on the brink of another orgasm that quick. She watched the muscles in his abdomen flex from trying to hold his nut in.

He gathered her long silky tresses into somewhat of a ponytail in his hands and pushed her head down to hit the back of her throat repeatedly.

Going as far as her throat allowed he held her there and instinctively her hands pushed at his strong thighs. Tears spilled out the corner of her eyes feeling his warm release coat her throat.

“Aghh!” He threw his head back, going to a whole different realm for a while and coming back down to earth. He looked down at the beauty below him. Mouth still full of him, mascara running, with spit decorating her chin and chest. She looked perfect to him like this. Vulnerable. Submissive. But he knew it was all just a result of the circumstances. This version of her would be long gone and forgotten in the days to come. So he decided right then, he would take full advantage while he could.

He hissed upon sliding out of her mouth as her cheeks sunk in. He lifted her up with one arm and she wrapped her legs around him. His other hand found his still semi-hard thickness to ease into her. Together they exhaled when he slid in. The feeling of her had him bricked back up in no time.

"Hold on. Tighter," he instructed. He maneuvered her long legs in crook of his arms before moving her up and down at full force. All gas no brakes.

Joe hummed softly to himself, turning in the California King bed toward his wife. It was late. Their night didn’t end until the wee hours of the morning. He immediately knocked out when it was over. He was exhausted mentally and physically.

Brielle however, couldn’t quiet her mind long enough to sleep. He found her wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark room. The city lights from their bedroom window cascaded over her enough for him to see her face. Something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” He questioned in a sleepy voice.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Then come here.” When she didn’t make a move to come closer to him, his eyebrows dented. She lay frozen in place, as the noice from the city took away from the eerie silence in the room.

“Do you think I need help?”

Joe released the breath he didn’t know he was holding. They had this conversation before. Too many times. Only it was never a conversation. Mostly an argument of some sort. Him complaining and practically begging her to get help. Trying to reason and get her to see that drinking at every event, at every inconvenience, just wasn’t normal. That it was killing them. Killing her.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. What do you think about yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “…I don’t know.” He watched a single tear slide out the corner of her eye. He wanted to blame his own eyes beginning to sting on him being a natural empath, but he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He loved this woman. So by default, whatever she felt he also felt times ten.

“I used to look in the mirror and loved what I saw. I was confident. Proud of what I was. And that was when I had nothing. I was a nobody three years ago. Now i’m somebody and I just feel so empty…”

Seeing a glimpse of the girl he met years ago, who snatched his heart from his chest with no remorse, had him frozen in place. Vulnerability was not a dress Brielle wore often. He bore a hole into the side of her face while she confided in him.

“All the flashing lights, the cameras, the money…I don’t know if i’ll be able to handle the day it all stops. I don’t think I know who I am without it anymore. I never meant for it to go this far.”

Joe took her dainty hand in his and squeezed. An attempt to let her know that everything was going to be okay. But the truth of the matter is that he didn’t know if everything would be okay. He knew he loved her and that she loved him right back. Only problem with that? The saddest truth about life is that sometimes love is just not enough.

….Well?😂

I know y’all were asking for a continuation of Biggest Fan, but I already had this in the tuck and was hyper fixating. Plus, I’m not entirely sure I want to continue Biggest Fan yet since I didn’t plan on it. I’ll keep y’all updated.

As always, if you read up until this point, I am forever grateful. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

taglist: @raya-hunter01

[justauthoring]

This is the Beginning [4/?]

Summary: You never thought you'd be able to escape Buggy, and yet, a boy with a straw hat, a man with three swords and a girl with orange hair somehow manage to free you. The journey that follows afterwards is your chance at freedom and maybe something more.

A One Piece Live Action Rewrite

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

Pairing: Live Action!Zoro Roronoa x F!Reader

TW for this chapter: canon typical violence, bits of jealous!zoro, that's really all!

Word Count: 9,323

A/N: Well, we made it! We caught up to seaon one of OPLA! Unfortunately, that means this series will be taking a hiatus until the new season comes out since it is a rewrite. But! I might do little bonus chapters and bonding moments!!

I have started watching the anime, so I know the general direction the live action will probably follow. If you guys would like bonus chapters, let me know!

Tag List: @emmaiscool22 - @bethleeham - @veryunoriginal - @sun-rae04 - @medievalfangirl - @sylum - @academiq

Chapter Four - This is It

“Y/N! My old friend!”

Before you can even register the fact that Buggy is talking to you, a body steps in front of you, fully blocking you from view. The expanse of Zoro’s broad shoulders is the only thing you can see as he glares down at Buggy; “don’t talk to her.”

Buggy just laughs, loud and mocking. “Yeah?” He taunts, “and what are you going to do about it? Bleed on me?”

You can see the tension build in Zoro, muscles tensing and his shoulders raising with every word Buggy throws at him.

You don’t blame him. You still remember when Luffy had all but dropped the fact that during their fight with Arlong and Nami’s betrayal, they’d reunited with Buggy, or rather the head of Buggy. It was made ten times worse when Luffy also elected to inform you that Buggy was coming with you all and helping you to Arlong’s island, as part of a deal he’d made with the pirate. He told you the two of them had made it in return for his navigation to the island, he’d get his body back.

And even though Luffy had assured you he wouldn’t let Buggy try and pull anything on you, you still felt uneasy about him being onboard.

You had no doubt that Buggy’s intentions were not as pure as he was making them out to be. He had something up his sleeve, or at the very least, he would betray you all. At one point or another.

Still, it didn’t matter because you were stuck for him for now. It wasn’t up to just you and you did need him, at least to find where Arlong and Nami had gone. And after spending the first day refusing to go up onto deck in fear of having to face Buggy, your once captain and long-time tormentor, you were sick of hiding away. You’d decided to go up on deck, especially after Zoro had shown concern with you hiding away. Buggy only had his head, after all, so despite saying whatever he wanted, he couldn’t do much.

You try to remind yourself of that.

Your attempt at not being seen, however, had failed the second you’d made your way up to the deck as Buggy had clocked your arrival instantly.

Ignoring the racing of your heart, you reach forward, setting your hand on Zoro’s arm. He pauses at the touch, looking as if he was ready to just kill Buggy and be done with it. He turns his head around to glance down at you, and you send him a reassuring smile.

You remind yourself that you were with a crew of people who cared about you deeply and no one was going to let Buggy hurt you in any way. Not to mention, you’d grown yourself. You weren’t the same girl Buggy had spent years tormenting; you could stand up for yourself now, especially if you had your friends by your side.

He looks like he wants to argue, but still, Zoro doesn’t fight you when you step out from behind him, turning your eye on Buggy.

“I’m not your friend, Buggy. And I never was,” you say, voice firm in your defiance. “And don’t think that I don’t know all your tricks. If you even try to betray us, I’ll—”

“You’ll do nothing!” Buggy laughs, loud and piercing. “Just like you never did back on my crew! You always were too helpless for your own good. All it took was that cage and—”

It doesn’t take you much to figure out what he was implying with his words and it leaves an unpleasant taste in your mouth, thinking back to that horrible cage. However, he doesn’t get the chance to finish.

Zoro is crossing the distance over to Buggy in seconds. Usopp, who’d been standing at the helm, steering with Buggy’s degrading instructions, looks all too pleased as Zoro grabs Buggy by the top of his head, lifting him off the barrel he’d been set on. You, however, look concerned, wanting nothing more than Zoro to actually just get rid of Buggy but you knew you needed him to get to Nami.

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Wait!” Buggy pleads almost instantly, words coming out in a rushed panic. “I was just joking!” He tries to excuse himself, and your eyes widen as Zoro moves him so he’s hanging over the edge of the ship. Buggy’s voice rises in terror. “I was joking! Y/N knows I was joking! Don’t you, Y/N—”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Zoro cuts in, voice sharp. “You don’t talk to Y/N.”

Biting your lip, you stare at Zoro’s back. You knew, obviously after the conversation the two of you had had, that Zoro cared about you but seeing him so openly defend you made your heart flutter in ways you didn’t know it could.

“You don’t look at her. Or bother her in any way. Is that clear?”

“Yes, yes,” Buggy rushes, voice a blur of desperation. “I won’t bother Y/N!”

“And if this is just another one of your tricks… or you leading us into a trap. Then…”

“Zoro, buddy!” Buggy laughs, “honour amongst pirates. Right? Come on. How about I sing a nice sea shanty to pass the time.”

Sighing, you press your hand to your forehead.

“Oh, there once was a girl with tangerine hair…”

Buggy continues, but a shared look back at you and Usopp makes Zoro’s decision for him easy. Turning around, he makes his way back up to the helm, where Usopp waits with the lid of a barrel topped off.

Zoro doesn’t hesitate to drop Buggy right inside.

“Ow! God, right on my nose!” 

Whatever else he’d been about to say is muffled as Usopp quickly places the top of the barrel back on.

Usopp turns back to you. “I hate clowns.”

Huffing a laugh, you nod your head, instantly eased at his silence. “Me too.”

Making his way back over to you, Zoro dusts off his hands, as if disgusted that Buggy had even been anywhere near him. You glance past him, making sure Usopp wasn’t paying attention anymore, before you reach for Zoro, smiling up at him.

“Thank you for defending me,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Zoro smirks, confident by your praise, but you see the soft flush to his cheeks. “It was a long time coming,” he shrugs, “I hate that clown.” He pauses, briefly, as if unsure of his own words. “Especially for how he treated you.”

The words, despite what they mean, pull a smile to your lips. Your grip on him tightens, and you lean into his embrace. Slowly, Zoro’s arm comes to rest around your shoulders, and you’re reminded of how new all of this still is. The two of you had only confessed your feelings a little bit ago and the two of you were still trying to maneuver those changes; especially since everything else was also still new. 

It was hard to believe it had only been a few short weeks since Luffy, Zoro and Nami saved you from Buggy and you joined them on their adventure. Finding Usopp, fighting Kuro and the Black Cat crew, then arriving at the Baratie, Nami’s betrayal and Sanji joining you… so much had happened in such a short amount of time. A part of you wondered if Zoro and you had moved too quickly into something beyond just a friendship, but then you feel the bandages across his chest on the skin of your cheek and you remember how close he’d been to dying.

Even if most would consider it quick, you didn’t want to waste a moment when you could lose him or he could lose you at any time.

Besides, he and the rest of the crew were stuck with you now. There would be plenty of time to work out the kinks.

“It’s okay,” you reassure Zoro. “I won’t lie and say what Buggy had done to me still doesn’t… haunt me. But, I’m not as scared as I thought I’d be when Luffy said he made a deal with him. Especially because now I have you guys. Because I have you.”

Zoro shifts and you pull back, giving him the room to lean back so he can meet your eye properly. A man of action as always, he raises his left hand, brushing back your hair to cup your cheek and presses a gentle kiss against your lips. It’s quick, the touch of his lips hovering for what feels like far too short, before he’s pulling back, smiling at you.

“I should talk to Luffy.” He says a moment later, “figure out our plan for when we find Nami and Arlong.”

You nod, finally letting your hands fall to your sides as you watch him walk away, sending one last warm look back at you. Your heart is still fluttering, even as he gets further and further away, feeling hot and weak at the same time.

“Someone’s down bad.”

Blinking, you turn around, finding Usopp staring down at you with the widest shit-eating grin on his lips.

Cheeks warming, you shake yourself out of your stupor, making your way up the stairs over to him. “Ha-ha,” you huff, but the smile on your lips is fond. 

Usopp just giggles. “Seriously,” he teases, “the two of you barely notice the people around you when you’re together.”

Coming to a stop next to him, you lightly nudge him with your shoulder. “Haven’t you teased me enough?” You whine, pouting, as your eyes glimmer with mischief at him. “The second Luffy told you what he saw, you haven’t let me off the hook.”

“It’s too fun,” Usopp shrugs, turning his gaze ahead to continue steering the ship. “You always get so embarrassed.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you raise a brow. “I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you, Usopp.”

“Oh?” He challenges, “and why’s that?”

“Because you forget I saw you and Kaya,” you smirk, watching as the smile on his lips falls and is replaced by a bright red across his cheeks. “If you want to talk about two people smitten…—”

“Okay, okay! I won’t tease you anymore!”

You turn to Usopp, his face turning bright red as he wildly shakes his hands in front of him. It pulls a laugh from your lips, loud and warm, enough to pull Usopp from his own reverie as he blinks back at you.

Turning your gaze back ahead, you soften your smile; “I’m happy for you, Usopp. And I know you’ll see her one day again.”

Shoulders easing, Usopp grabs hold of the helm again and grins to himself. “Thanks,” he says earnestly, “and I’m happy for you too. You and Zoro.”

You squeeze his arm in return, smile infectious, and the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with one another for a few minutes.

Then, you catch sight of something ahead. 

“Usopp,” you call, shaking his own arm before pointing ahead of yourself. “Look!”

He leans forward, eyes squinting. “I don’t see anything,” he mumbles, confused.

You frown; “you don’t see the island up ahead?”

“How do you…” Usopp frowns, but his voice trails, squinting even more before he pulls back in realization. “Wait. I see it!” 

Instantly, he cups his hands around his mouth, breathing in sharply so yell out to the three at the front of the ship; “land ho!”

-

Walking behind Zoro, you frown at the sight of the village in front of you. In a lot of ways, it uncomfortably reminds you of the village Buggy had destroyed; the one Luffy had saved.

It’s desolate. Any sign of happiness that probably flooded these homes is gone, without a trace of it ever exiting. It makes your chest tight and your heart sinks.

You slow to a stop when you notice the rest of your crew doing the same, turning to the left and your lips part when you see what’s caught their attention.

“This is terrible,” you breathe, pressing a hand to your lips as you stare back at the flipped upside down house.

Zoro eyes you, before turning to the house; “never seen that before.”

“What could have done this?” Sanji asks, brows furrowed in bafflement.

Usopp hovers next to you, shuffling on his feet. “Maybe I should head back… make sure the Merry’s secure.”

Without hesitation, you reach for Usopp, squeezing his arm. He turns to you, the fear in his gaze apparent.

But before you can say anything to reassure him, Luffy speaks up;

“Arlong did this.”

His voice is unusually low, tinged with rage. You stare back at him with surprise.

“Hey, shit-hat!” Buggy calls, voice muffled through the bag Sanji is currently carrying him in. “I think we can all agree that Arlong’s a bad fish. But why don’t we quit lollygagging and get my body back?”

You scoff, “as if we should hurry for your sake.” Letting your gaze drag across the village once more, you frown. “This is no different than anything you’ve done before. Same innocent people being hurt, just different pirates.”

Sanji’s eyes fall on you, and you figure it’s because he’s the only one on the crew that doesn’t know how Luffy had found you. Sure, Usopp hadn’t been there, but he’d heard bits and pieces of it and probably was able to piece it all together. Sanji, who’d just joined, wouldn’t know. All he knew was you’d once been on Buggy’s crew.

You avoid his gaze. 

“Come on, Y/N! I certainly wasn’t as bad as—”

“Pipe down in there!” Sanji cuts him off, for your sake more than anyone else's. 

“Or what?” Buggy huffs. “You gonna whip me up a souffle?”

Dropping the bag, Sanji sighs, gesturing to Usopp. “How about you take him for a while?”

“Ooh,” Usopp breathes, shaking his head. “New guy carries the clown head.”

Feeling bad for the guy, you step forward, reaching for the bag. “Here, Sanji, I can—”

“Absolutely not—”

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’ve got it—”

Both Zoro and Sanji speak at the same time, and almost instantly, the two turn to each other with glares.

“Y/N is not carrying that clown head,” Zoro growls, shifting beside you.

“I agree,” Sanji bites out, shouldering the bag again before turning to you with a smile. “Don’t worry, Y/N. I got it under control.”

You hesitate, frowning, but seeing the smile on his lips and the way Zoro continues to glare at the cook, you decide to let it go. “Okay,” you shrug, “if you’re sure.”

The five of you continue to make your way, picking up the pace in your step when you see a group of people up ahead.

“Everyone! Please!”

The man speaking stands at the front of the crowd, holding a box. His expression is grim.

“We don’t have much time,” he continues. “And we’re short again this month.”

You frown when you watch a man step up, dumping a handful of Berry into the box.

That sinking feeling floods your stomach again.

“Is it enough?”

With a frown, the man at the front shakes his head slowly.

“Do we have time to get some more?”

“No.”

Your back straightens, recognizing that voice.

Sure enough, the crowd splits instantly, and you see Nami step through.

“You don’t,” she says, slowly making her way through the crowd.

Luffy steps forward, as if to go to her. Zoro stops him.

A woman with blue hairs steps right up to Nami, face twisted with rage. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face here.” Nami doesn’t say anything in return, even when the woman spits right at her feet.

She walks off a second later, your eyes follow her. 

A moment of silence passes, then, Nami turns her attention back to the man with the donation box. “Got something for me?”

Slowly, he hands over the box.

It takes Nami one look; “you’re short.”

“Nami, please,” the man begs. “This is all we have. Arlong has bled us dry.”

“Then find more blood.”

Swallowing thickly, the sight breaks your heart. There was no way Nami could actually be this… heartless, right?

The man walks off as does the rest of the crowd. Nami, with the donation box still in hand, lets her gaze wander, freezing the second she catches sight of the five of you.

She makes her way over in seconds flat.

“Luffy?” She calls, voice sharp. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same thing.”

“This is where I belong.”

Luffy shakes his head, “I don’t believe that. This is not you.”

“No,” she argues. “This isn’t the me you want me to be.”

“Nami…” Luffy calls, voice soft. He steps towards her. “If you need our help—”

“No, I don’t need any of you.”

You flinch at that, watching as her eyes dance across the five of you. When her eyes meet yours, she’s quick to look away.

“Arlong wanted the map,” she explains, “and I conned you into getting it for me. And you bought it. I was never part of your stupid crew.”

“You don’t mean that.”

For the splittest of seconds, Nami’s face wavers. You see it, watch it happen, but it’s gone before you can do anything about it. It feels like you’re the only one who does see it.

“Take the rest of these clowns and sail away from here,” she spits. “I never want to see you again.”

She spins around, moving to walk off. You instinctively move to walk after her, knowing what you saw and not ready to give up, but Zoro grabs your hand, tightening his grip. Turning to him, his expression is sympathetic for you but firm; she won’t listen.

Usopp huffs behind you; “okay, that went about as bad as it could. So back to the boat before the fishmen find us? Sail the hell out of here? Okay.” 

Sanji shakes his head; “there’s something else going on here.”

“I think she was very clear she wants us to leave,” Zoro argues.

“You don’t know women,” Sanji instantly rebuts, “they never say what they mean.”

You blink, “well, I—”

“Tell me again why the cook gets a say.” Zoro huffs, turning to face Sanji.

“Don’t you guys get it,” Usopp cuts in, and you watch as the three of them circle around each other, bickering. All while Luffy remains standing where Nami left him. “She’s one of them. She’s a bad guy. The villagers are terrified of her.”

Raising your voice, you step forward and interrupt them before any of them can speak. “The look on her face was off,” you explain, remembering exactly what you’d seen. Turning to Zoro, you look back at him determined. “I know what she said, Zoro, but she looked like she was this close to breaking down. Sanji is right, there is something more going on here. I’m sure of it.”

Zoro, who looks put out that you’re siding with Sanji, steps towards you. “Y/N, I know that you don’t want it to be true but Nami…” He hesitates, seeing the look on your face. “Usopp is right. The villagers were scared. Of her.”

Face falling, you can’t deny that.

“Not all of them,” Luffy says, speaking up for the first time. You turn around to face him, but he steps forward before you can ask what he meant. “Hey! Scar guy.”

Only chancing one more glance back at Zoro, you quickly follow after Luffy.

“Who was that girl?” Luffy asks the man who’d been collecting the donations. “You know, the one with the cool hair?”

The man eyes you five. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Monkey D. Luffy,” Luffy introduces, voice serious. “I’m a pirate—”

“—Hunter,” Zoro cuts in quickly. Hands shoved into his pockets, he steps up beside Luffy. “Pirate hunter. We’re here to collect Arlong’s bounty.”

Sensing the apprehension on the man’s face, you think that was definitely a smart save on Zoro’s part.

The man just raises a brow. “You? I’ve seen men twice your size and with twice your number go into Arlong Park. None of them ever came back.”

Luffy smiles. “We just want to talk to her.”

“Trust me,” the man argues, “you don’t. But if it’ll get you out of my town, try the house down that road, on the edge of the tangerine grove.”

-

“I don’t know how you do it.”

Jumping at the voice, you turn around, easing when you see it’s just Nojiko.

Turns out that girl with the cool hair, as Luffy had dubbed her, was Nami’s sister. After managing to convince her into talking to you with the promise of a home-cooked meal, Sanji had whipped her and the rest of you up a meal. It was only then Nojiko had agreed to tell you the story of how her and Nami’s mother had died because of Arlong, who’d taken control of this island eight years ago. And how Nami was now working for him.

The story had left the five of you all upset in your own ways. When Usopp had solidified the fact that Nami really was working for her mother’s killer, the air in the house had thickened with tension.

You’d stay for a while, but after Buggy had insisted on being let out of the bag to the point Sanji had been forced to do so, you’d taken your leave. Luffy, and then Zoro who had gone after him, had left the second Nojiko finished telling you everything and you hadn’t heard from them since. You figured it was best to give them space, so you’d chosen to wander through the tangerine grove right by Nojiko’s house.

When Nojiko had found you.

Meeting Nojiko’s eyes, you glance at her inquisitively.

“Deal with being stuck with four men,” she laughs lightly. “Especially on a ship. I’d go crazy.”

You smile back at her, snorting. “You get used to it.” Then, smile wavering just faintly, you can’t help but add; “it was easier, too. With… you know, Nami.” Hugging yourself, you glance at your feet. “It was nice having her onboard with us. Nice being her friend, if she ever thought of me as one.”

Nojiko doesn’t respond, probably not sure how to. Still, she offers a gentle and sympathetic smile in return. It’s clear she understands in her own way.

“Are you okay?” You ask, gesturing back to the house. “Sanji didn’t say anything, right? He’s a flirt and never means anything by it, but I’ll kick him for you if he makes you uncomfortable.”

Letting out a sharp laugh, Nojiko shakes her head. “He didn’t say anything,” she reassures with a wave of her hand. “I just needed some air. I was… I was actually planning on visiting her grave.”

Your lips part; “your mother’s?”

She nods.

You hesitate, glancing back at the far stretch of the tangerine grove and then back at Nojiko. You decide to just ask what’s on your mind. “Could I come with you?”

She seems shocked by our question, eyes widening and brows furrowing. 

“Only if you don’t mind,” you assure, shaking your hands at her. “I just… Just thought maybe you’d like a friend. And, well… I know what it’s like to lose a mother.”

Face easing, Nojiko frowns; “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “It was a long time ago.”

Nodding slowly, Nojiko shrugs; “you can come then. And we can send a prayer to both of our mothers.”

Your smile brightens at that, worrying easing from your body as you nod at her. She returns the smile with ease and the two of you begin walking, Nojiko leading the way. The grave isn't that far away, so it doesn’t take you long before Nojiko is informing you you’re close.

“Just around this…—”

But her voice trails as you both hear… grunting? She glances back at you, worried, and you mimic her expression, rushing forward. You worry it’s someone from Arlong’s crew, heart sinking at what they could possibly be doing.

Only, it’s Nami you find.

You hesitate, feet freezing, but blind with anger at the realization of what Nami was doing, Nojiko rushes forward. “How dare you,” she hisses out, barely able to contain the anger in her voice. “It’s not enough that you’re working for our mother’s killer, but now you’re desecrating her grave too?”

You notice at the same time Nami does, her calling out for Nojiko, as the latter grabs the shovel next to the digged hole, swinging it back behind her to hit Nami.

Racing forward, you grab the handle of the shovel before Nojiko can swing it down just as Nami flinches back with a scream.

Nami’s eyes zone in on you; “Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”

Meeting her gaze, your lips part; “I…—”

“Never mind that,” Nojiko spits, and she lowers her hands when you step back, but doesn’t let go of the shovel, looking ready to try and hit Nami again. “I can’t believe you would do this!”

Nami only glances at you once more, hesitating, before turning back to Nojiko; “it’s not what you think.”

Nojiko goes to swing the shovel again, and you move to grab her, but don’t reach in time. 

“You have no idea what I think!”

Nami’s name leaves your lips in a shrill cry and she just narrowly misses the edge of the shovel smacking her across the face, falling back. Instead of Nami, Nojiko hits the chest right next to the hole.

Bills and coins of Berry come pouring out of it.

Panting, Nojiko shakes her head; “what’s this?” She slowly turns to Nami. “Is this the money that you stole? And you’re hiding it next to our mother’s body?”

Confused and bewildered and definitely feeling like you’re encroaching on a moment between sisters you shouldn’t be, you remain silent, taking a step back.

“Nami,” Nojiko whispers, “what kind of monster are you?”

“You don’t understand,” Nami cries.

“Then make me understand.”

Her eyes flicker between you and Nojiko, unsure, before she focuses all of her attention on Nojiko. 

“I’ve been stealing this money because of a deal with Arlong I made,” she starts, moving to crawl out of the hole and grab her bag. “I told Arlong I’d work for him on one condition. That he let me buy back Coco Village. And he said he would for a hundred million Berry.”

“A hundred million?” You echo, unable to stop yourself. “That would take a lifetime.”

Nami shakes her head, reaching for Nojiko. “I have the money,” she explains. “All of it. And now I can buy the freedom of the village and everyone in it.”

Seeing the look on Nojiko’s face, you inhale sharply, turning. It occurs to you should give them a moment alone. This news was shocking enough to you, you couldn’t imagine how Nojiko, who’s obviously hated Nami for the past eight years, would feel. Sending the two of them a gentle smile, you walk off, moving to the edge of the woods.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you think about what Nami had said.

That look you’d seen her eyes, the one only you had seemed to be able to notice, made so much more sense now. None of this had been of Nami’s own volition or choice. And for the past eight years she’d been forced to work for and do the bidding of a man who’d killed her mother and threatened her family and friends.

The thought made you sick. You couldn’t imagine what Nami’s been forced to endure.

Minutes pass of you stuck in your thoughts, until you catch something through the foliage of the forest. It gives you pause, head turning in the direction as you squint, trying to figure out what you’d seen.

When you catch sight of a familiar white and blue uniform, your heart drops.

“Nami, Nojiko!” You call, rushing over to them as you reach for Nami’s chest of Berry. Nami stands at the sight, the conversation between her and Nojiko cut short as she assumes the worst of what you’re doing.

“What are you—”

“We don’t have time,” you cut her off, staring at her with panic in your eye. “The Marines, they’re—”

“Already here.”

Lips left parted, you, Nami and Nojiko’s heads snap round, back in the direction you’d come from, bodies freezing at the sight of a line up of Marines stopping in front of you.

“A shame to interrupt such a touching moment,” the lieutenant Marine offers, voice not at all sympathetic. “I’ve heard that pirates are stashing their plunder in this area. You three wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

Feet frozen in place, you eye the back of Nami and Nojiko, before shifting your attention back to the lieutenant. This was bad. Very bad. There was no way to hide Nami’s stash, especially not when it was clear it was exactly what the Marines were already looking for.

“That’s obviously been stolen,” the Marine lieutenant comments, eyeing Nami’s money. “By the authority of the Marines and the World Government, I'm going to have to confiscate it.”

“No,” Nami gasps. “No, you can’t do that. It’s mine!”

“A hundred million Berry?” The lieutenant raises a brow, “and where would you get that much money?”

“Nami got that money fair and square,” you hiss, stepping forward as you glare at the man. “You have no right to take it from her.”

“No right?” The lieutenant laughs, loud and mocking. “I have the right as a Marine lieutenant, silly girl.”

“Wait,” Nami cuts in, breathless, before you can speak, as if having realized something. “How did you know it was a hundred…” But her voice trails, and a glance back at her tells you she’s figured it out.

“Arlong put you up to this, didn’t he?”

Your lips part, gasping. 

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” the lieutenant shrugs. Then, he shifts, nodding at the men behind him. They listen instantly. 

Nami and you both start. She reaches for her bag, trying to grab her weapon, but the Marines are too quick. Two of them flank her, grabbing her by the arm. You growl at the sight, stepping forward to help, but then the men that had been standing to the left of the lieutenant step towards you. 

“Watch yourself. Or we will take you into custody as well.”

Past their shoulders you can see the Marine officers holding Nami shove her to the ground. Rage floods you, and you move towards her, but you’re blocked by more officers. Instantly, they go to grab you, but you dodge their grasps, trying to slither past them. You make it past one, reaching for Nami and then a sharp sting radiates across your cheek.

You trip over your feet at the impact, stunned, falling to your knees as your hand hovers across your cheek in shock, staring up at the officer who’d punched you. He stares down at you, unbothered. His hand rests on his baton, as if baiting you to try again.

Nami, who’d watched the whole display, continues to thrash and fight the hands that hold her down.

“No!” She screams when she sees them grabbing her Berry. “You can’t do this. You can’t do this!”

Cheek stinging and eyes watering in despair, you watch the Marines grab her money all while Nami screams, helpless to do anything. They take it all, not leaving a single Berry behind, and not offering even a glance at Nami who cries out for them to stop.

When the officers let her go and walk off, Nami instantly moves to get back up. Nojiko, who’d seemed frozen in the spot until then, grabs her. “Wait, Nami,” she pleads. “Stop! Wait. Wait!”

“Let me go!” Nami cries, fighting her sister's grip. “Let me go! They can’t do this!”

“Nami,” you breathe, staring at her in shock.

“There’s nothing you can do!” Nojiko tries.

But Nami doesn’t listen to her.

“Arlong will kill the entire village!” She bellows, voice pitching in distress, finally breaking free from Nojiko’s grip and running off in the opposite direction of the Marine’s and instead towards the village.

“Nami, wait!” Nojiko begs, screaming after her.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you wipe your tears, grabbing Nojiko’s hand and pulling her eyes on you.

There’s only one thing that can help her now. Or rather, people.

“Nojiko. Nojiko, listen to me,” you pant, tugging on her hand. Her eyes fall on you, wild and terrified. “We need to get Luffy and the rest. They can help! I promise!”

Chest rising and falling and breathless, Nojiko inhales sharply, trying to calm herself.

“Okay.”

Never letting go of her hand, you pull her along, the two of you take off in the direction you’d first come from. Nojiko’s house is closer than the rest of the village, separated off, so it doesn’t take either of you very long to get back to their house and your friends. The two of you break through the tangerine grove, breathless and panicked, and Zoro and Luffy who had been up on the roof see you instantly.

“Y/N?” Zoro calls, concerned. Him and Luffy glance at each other briefly before quickly climbing down the roof. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

Zoro’s voice must’ve caught the attention of Usopp and Sanji because they come running out of the house too,

“What’s going on?” Usopp asks.

“Y/N?” Sanji’s gaze instantly zones in on you, taking in your distressed state. “And Nojiko? Are you—”

Luffy and Zoro come to a stop in front of the both of you.

Nojiko, unable to catch her voice, shakes her head. “Nami, she’s…” But a cough wracks through her body, exhausted after everything from the Marine’s, trying to stop Nami and then running.

Zoro zones in on you then, catching sight of your face. “Y/N, your cheek,” he breathes, voice low as he reaches for you, cupping your jaw to pull your gaze up on him. His eyes flood with anger when he gets a better look at your red and stinging cheek. “Who did—”

Resting your hand over his, you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss, and cut him off quickly before he can argue. “We have to help Nami. Arlong… Arlong is going to destroy the village!”

“What?” Usopp squeaks, “he’s coming here?”

“Is it because the village was short on money?” Sanji frowns.

Meeting Nojiko’s eyes, you both frown. “Nami had a deal with Arlong,” you explain, shifting from Zoro to Luffy. His face is serious, and he listens to you carefully. “He betrayed her. The Marine’s stole her money and now Arlong is going to destroy the village. We have to help them. We have to help Nami!”

“Please,” Nojiko pleads beside you. “Please.”

Zoro steps towards you, and you turn to him, barely noticing the way your eyes are watering. He frowns down at you, before turning to Luffy.

“Nojiko, stay here. Y/N.” You turn back to him, breathing in. “Lead the way,” Luffy says, voice sharp. 

Meeting his eyes, you nod.

-

Walking past Luffy, you fall to your knees next to Nami.

She starts at the sight of you, teary-eyed and gasping, but you just smile gently at her. Shifting your bag, you pull out the bandages in there. You’d originally grabbed them for Zoro, but staring at her bleeding arm, you figure it was best her wounds were cleaned and wrapped.

“Here,” you say softly, slowly grabbing her arm. You hesitate, not wanting to startle her, but she doesn’t flinch away when you reach for her. Comforted at the action, you grab the cloth you’d also pulled out, wiping at the blood.

“I can clean it better later,” you explain, “but for now.”

She doesn’t respond, and you let her remain silent, incapable of understanding what she could possibly be going through in that moment.

The two of you sit in silence, away from the boys as they figure out how they’re going to go up against Arlong. Nami watches as you bandage her, and you do so without saying anything. Truthfully, you don’t know what you could say. Your heart broke for her and the villagers and every sting of betrayal you’d felt before is gone. 

Now, you only feel guilt for having ever doubted her.

“There,” you whisper, doing the last loop of the bandage. 

Nami glances down at her arm and she ponders it for a while, before;

“Thank you.”

Lips parting, your head snaps up, blinking. 

“Back there, with the Marines,” she points at your cheek. “You tried to stop them.”

“Oh,” you frown, “you don’t have to thank me. I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them then.”

Blinking back her tears, Nami’s face falls.

“Luffy will be able to stop Arlong, Nami,” you smile at her, taking a leap and squeezing her arm. She straightens at the touch, but her gaze is warm as she looks back at you. “We’ll help you. You don’t have to do it alone anymore.”

Her eyes fall shut, a single tear escaping her defences as she leans towards you.

“Thank you.”

-

“I can fight.”

“We’ve hardly done any training—”

“Zoro,” you huff, balling your hands into fists at your side. “I want to help.”

He eyes you, frowning. “I know you do, but Arlong’s men are strong.”

Mildly insulted, despite knowing he was right, and frustrated, you glare up at him. “I’m helping. You can’t stop me.”

Clearly frustrated himself, Zoro presses a hand to his face. “You don’t even have a weapon.”

“Nojiko gave me a gun,” you counter, grabbing the rifle from the wall you’d set it against, and holding it up to him to see. “She taught me the basics of how to use it. I probably won’t be as good of a shot as Usopp, but I can still try.”

Breathing in sharply, Zoro glances back at the crew, noticing the way they’re getting ready to go. Turning back to you, he steps towards you, cupping your cheeks. “I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Wrapping your hands around him in return, you smile, “I know. Because I don’t want you to get hurt too.” Squeezing his hands, you look up at him reassuringly. “I’ll stay back and not put myself in danger. But I want to help Nami. Don’t ask me to stay behind when she’s my friend too. That’s not what we promised each other.”

Sighing, Zoro knows you’re right. “You stay away from the thick of it,” he orders, voice serious. “And if you need my help, call for me. I’ll come to you right away.”

Biting your lip, you smile. “I promise,” you assure, nodding. “The second I’m in danger, I’ll call for you. Only you.”

Cheeks flushing, Zoro rolls his eyes. “As long as you promise.”

-

Despite losing sight of Usopp in the mess, you think you’re doing a fairly good job.

Obviously, Sanji and Zoro were taking down most of the men, but you can proudly say you’ve at least gotten a few really good shots. There was even the time you’d shot down a guy that had been gunning straight for Zoro, to which he’d smirked back at you in response.

The pride you’d felt was imminent. 

Just like how you’d been able to see the island before anyone else back on the boat, or how you’d seen the Marines coming through the thick forest foliage, your left eye was able to catch sight of Arlong’s man easily. And even though you were still rocky with the gun itself, your eye  helped you see things you’d never been able to before.

You’ve never seen things so clearly.

Taking one last shot at one of Arlong’s men and watching him crash to the ground, you straighten up from behind the rock you’d perched yourself behind. You couldn’t see Zoro and Sanji from where you were and a quick glance across the park told you you’d all (mainly them) managed to take out most of Arlong’s men.

Standing to your feet, you climb down the rocks and head in the direction you thought you’d last seen Sanji and Zoro go in. Despite being further back, you’d watched them argue the entire time they’d been fighting, so you figured checking on them was probably the best idea.

Sure enough, eventually you can hear their muffled voices arguing. You follow the sound, coming around a broken down stand, only to come crashing into someone.

You stumble back, blinking, until your eye lands on the familiar sight of Buggy. With his body.

Your grip instantly tightens on your gun, while his lips stretch into a wide grin.

“Sorry, my Angel Eye,” he laughs and you hiss at the sound of that nickname, stepping towards him. He holds his hands up as he wiggles his fingers at you in a mocking goodbye. “I’d love to catch up but I gotta go!”

He runs past you in the next second before you even have a second to blink, and your hand twitches, wanting to stop him. But honestly, the thought occurs to you it might just be best to let him go; if he was gone, then at least you didn’t have to see him and listen to his grating voice any longer.

You also don’t know at that moment if you were strong enough to kill him. Not in the physical sense, but… mental.

Shaking your head, you let the thought leave you, focusing back on finding Zoro and Sanji.

Figures he’d betray you guys anyways.

Scoffing, you continue making your way forward, face easing when you see Zoro and Sanji.

“I see Buggy betrayed us,” you comment, gesturing behind you.

Sanji and Zoro turn to you.

“He didn’t do anything did—”

“What did that fucking clown say—”

Blinking at the both of them, you watch as they turn to each other, before promptly turning the other way.

You bite your lip, laughing. “You guys are—”

Whatever you’d been about to say gets cut off the second you let out a scream. A sharp, aching pain radiates from your left eye, making you fall to your knees as you clutch at your face, curling in on yourself.

Your name leaves Zoro’s lips as he and Sanji run towards you, Zoro kneeling in front of you.

“Y/N,” he calls, voice pitched in panic. “Y/N, what happened? What’s going on?”

“I—” Hissing, you cry out as the sting continues to radiate across your face.

Hands fall on you, careful and slow, pulling your own away from your face.

Leaning forward, Zoro pauses at the sight and Sanji behind him gasps;

“Y/N, your eye…”

You stare up at them, hand hovering by your face, trying to bear through the pain.

“What… What’s happening?”

“Your eye is glowing, Y/N,” Zoro mumbles, shaking his head. “It’s like… shining.”

Frowning at him, you ease when the pain lessens somewhat. Still, your heart is racing with terror of what’s happening.

“Does it still—”

Footsteps cut Zoro off, all three of your guys’ attention snapping to the right where you see one of Arlong’s main lackeys coming over. He grins wide at the sight of you three, and instantly, Sanji is shifting into a fighting stance as Zoro stands, stepping in front of you.

“Stay back, Y/N,” Zoro calls, stretching his arm in front of you.

You nod up at him, pushing yourself back as you try and bite back another cry of pain.

It doesn’t take them long to fight him. Even though Sanji gets kicked around a bit, the second the bad guy says something about Nami, Sanji is zoned in on him. With a series of powerful kicks, you watch as Sanji takes down the guy in seconds.

Zoro turns to you, sure that it was safe to, crouching. His touch is gentle as he tries to get a closer look at your eye.

As their fight had progressed, the pain had lessened. And now, it’s nearly gone, just a faint, residual itchy feeling.

“Does it still hurt?” Zoro frowns.

You shake your head, “it’s just… uncomfortable. Is it still glowing?”

“Not anymore,” he shakes his head, shifting his hands to your hips as he helps you back to your feet.

“Has that ever happened before, love?” Sanji asks, staring back at you in concern.

You ignore Zoro’s huff at the nickname, shaking your head at Sanji. “No,” you frown. “I have no idea what that was.”

Turning back to Zoro, it’s hard to hide your fear.

Brushing his fingers across your cheek, Zoro shakes his head. “It’s okay, just tell me if it happens again, alright? We’ll figure it out.”

Eased at his reassurance, you lean into his touch.

“Also,” Zoro smiles down at you, “you did great.”

His words bring an instant beam to your lips, appreciating his ability to shift your mind away from your worries and praise you at the same time. You grin, clapping your hands in front of you in joy. “Really?” Then, turning to Sanji, your eyes sparkle. “You think so too, Sanji?”

Any discomfort he’d shown at Zoro’s words to you eases as he grins at you. “Of course, love, you did amazing.”

Your face is practically sparkling.

“Would you stop calling her that?” Zoro huffs, “and what was with those stupid names with your kicks?”

“All great heroes have names for their attacks,” Sanji shrugs, unbothered.

Zoro hesitates before sighing. “Yeah, you’ll fit in great.”

You grin, happy they were (sorta) getting along.

Just then, a familiar screaming catches your attention. Turning your gaze to the entrance of Arlong park, you watch as Usopp comes running in, slingshot at the ready.

“Never fear, the Great Captain Usopp is…” But his words trail when he realizes everyone is already down. “Is… oh. You guys did pretty good in here.” Sighing, he grins at you all, sending you a thumbs up. You send him one back. “Good job guys!”

He nods to himself, and the four of you shift, falling silent.

Putting a hand to your right eye, so you see nothing, you frown to yourself, unable to ignore the unsettled feeling still in your stomach.

“Nami!”

Blinking at Sanji’s call, you look up, face brightening when you see Nami running over to the four of you.

Sanji’s arms stretch wide for a hug, but she runs past him, gunning straight for you, Usopp and Zoro. You stumble as you’re brought into an embrace, squished between Zoro and Usopp as Nami’s face falls into the crook of your neck.

“You’re all okay!”

Smiling at her, you nod as she pulls back, taking one last long look at the three of you before turning back to Arlong’s base.

“Where’s Luffy?” Zoro asks.

Glancing at Sanji, who’d been rejected seconds before, you offer a small wink when he meets your gaze.

“Still inside,” Nami answers, “fighting Arlong.”

Turning back to Arlong Park, you frown, however, at the sight of the building crumbling apart.

-

“That was crazy, huh?”

Smiling down at Zoro, you take a seat next to him, letting your arm brush against his before turning to meet his gaze.

Zoro snorts next to you, returning your smile with a softer one of his own. He leans back as you sit next to him, and you don’t fail to notice the way he leans back, his right hand falling to a spot behind you, silently giving you the room to lean into him.

Biting back your smile, you don’t hesitate to do just that.

“Thought we were going to be fighting off the entirety of that Marine force,” Zoro comments dryly, letting his gaze drift in front of the both of you. You think back to what had just happened moments prior and the realization that the Vice Admiral, Luffy’s grandfather, had been chasing after all of you as some sort of test for his grandson.

Letting out a laugh, you glance up at Zoro, an adoring look in your eye. “I bet you would’ve too,” you comment. With a teasing grin, you poke at his side, careful of his wound. “After all, you like being Luffy’s first mate more than you’ll admit.”

Rolling his eyes, he smirks down at you; “maybe.”

You giggle, letting your head fall onto his shoulder and drift your gaze across the crowd of bustling and happy villagers. It’s a stark contrast from when you’d all first arrived on Cocoyashi Village, but it was one that made your heart swell with pride and warmth. Arlong and his goons were gone and now Nami’s village could live in peace like they always should’ve been able to.

Speaking of, you pause in your thoughts when you notice Nami and Nojiko walking past you. Both of their eyes are on you and Zoro and while Nojiko offers a simple wave and a warm smile, the look in Nami’s eyes is telling as she wiggles her brows at you, gesturing loosely to Zoro. You flush, but the grin on your lips is undeniable.

You watch them walk off, happy the two sisters could have these final moments together.

“How’s your eye?”

Looking up at the sound of Zoro’s question, you find him staring down at you, chin dipped towards you and eyes dancing with concern.

“Better,” you say honestly, letting your hand fall over your left eye, covering your vision completely for a brief second before turning back to Zoro. “I don’t know what that was but I… have been noticing things recently.”

Zoro’s brows furrow; “what things?”

“I just… see things,” you shrug, unsure how to explain it. “See things before others can. Like when I saw the island… Usopp didn’t see it for a minute and we all know that the one thing he does have is good vision. Or when the Marine’s stole Nami’s money, I could see them far before I should’ve been able to.”

Zoro takes in your words, slowly nodding. “You think it could have to do with Mihawk?”

“Maybe,” you nod, the thought having already crossed your mind. “I’ve never understood why my eye looks like this or why my right one is blind… My mother had normal eyes. Maybe something went wrong when I was born?”

Still leant against him, Zoro shifts, moving to slip your hand in his own as he squeezes. “Well, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out, yeah? There’s gotta be an answer somewhere out there.’

His voice is sincere, serious with the promise of helping you. Warmth floods you, heart fluttering, and you think back to the first time you ever met Zoro. When he’d stumbled in that tent that day, you never would’ve thought this is where you’d be now.

Nodding up at him, you say; “it’s a promise.”

He smiles, and with that, you let your head fall against his shoulder again, hand still in his.

The two of you spend the rest of the celebration like that.

-

“So…”

Glancing over at Nami, you huff; “so?”

“You and Zoro?” She grins, wide and from ear to ear. “Can’t believe I missed that.”

Letting out a chuckle, you shake your head. “Don’t tease me,” you whine faintly, pressing a hand to your forehead as the two of you make your way to the kitchen. “I already got enough of it from Usopp.”

Nami barks out a laugh just as the two of you slip inside.

“Get enough of what from me?” Usopp asks, looking up for one of his new ammo experiments he’d been working on.

Meeting Nami’s eyes, the both of you giggle.

“Nothing!”

“Ah,” Sanji comments from the counter, “it’s so nice to be rewarded with such lovely laughter from two lovely ladies.”

You let out a chuckle, moving to sit next to Zoro as Nami grins over at Sanji.

“Oi,” Zoro calls, looking up for his swords. “What have I said about flirting with Y/N, you damned cook?”

Sanji just shrugs, not at all bothered; “I can’t help it. Y/N’s elegance merely demands it.”

Nami and Usopp cackle but you notice the way Zoro moves to get up, quickly grabbing ahold of his arm to stop him.

“You—!”

“Guys!”

Thankful for the distraction, your face lights up as Luffy comes bounding into the kitchen, a slip of paper in his hands. Moving towards the table, he slams it down.

“Look.” 

“Oh, shit,” you breathe, staring down at the wanted poster.

“Hey, look,” Usopp cheers, “I’m famous!”

Sanji shakes his head; “what are you on about? That’s Luffy’s wanted poster.”

“Not just Luffy,” Usopp smirks, reaching forward and pointing at the paper. You follow his gesture, huffing a laugh when you realize, sure enough, there Usopp is in the left corner of the poster.

Or, at least, the back of him.

“Sorry, guy,” Usopp chuckles, glancing at you all. “Maybe if you work a little harder, you’ll get a bounty too.”

“That doesn’t count.” Sanji rolls his eyes.

“It’s okay to be jealous. Feel what you need to feel.”

“I… mm…” Cutting himself off, Sanji submits; “this is stupid.”

“This is gonna make things much harder,” Zoro comments from next to you. “With that price on your head, every bounty hunter in the East Blue will be gunning for you.”

“Not just Luffy,” Nami adds. “They’re gonna be gunning for all of us.”

Everyone falters, faced with reality, but you just smile over at Luffy.

“Still,” you speak up, pulling Luffy’s attention on you. “Good for you, Luffy! That’s the first step to being the King of the Pirates!”

He sends you a thumbs up, as the rest groan.

“What have we talked about,” Nami frowns at you. “You don’t need to encourage him anymore than he already encourages himself.”

You just shrug, grinning.

“Besides,” Luffy shrugs, “it doesn't matter. Because we are not staying in the East Blue.”

Staring up at all of you, he grins; 

“We’re going to the Grand Line.”

-

“Straw Hats! All hands on deck for a cast-off ceremony.”

Listening to Luffy’s order, you step out onto deck behind Zoro, raising a brow when you see Luffy, Nami and Sanji already gathered around a barrel.

Usopp’s the last to arrive, and the second he comes to a stop, Sanji raises his leg, placing it on the edge of the barrel.

“I’m gonna find the All Blue,” he promises, and your heart starts with realization of what’s happening.

Luffy follows his lead with ease, slamming his leg on the barrel with a bit more force. “I’m gonna be King of the Pirates!”

Zoro shifts next to you, smiling wide, and then, he does the same. “I’m gonna be the world’s greatest swordsman.”

“I’m gonna draw a map of the world,” Nami promises, raising her leg as she smiles at you all.

“I…” Usopp hesitates, shifting, before raising his leg. “Am gonna be a brave warrior of the sea!”

Laughter echoes, and then, everyone’s eyes shift to you. Hesitating similarly to Usopp, you glance at the barrel and then each of your friends.

Feeling your heart flutter with excitement, you raise your leg, taking up the last bit of space left on the barrel.

“I’m gonna discover the truth about my eye!” You promise, biting your lip.

You glance at everyone, grinning, until your eyes fall on Zoro who smiles back at you with pride.

“This is it, crew,” Luffy calls, “The Grand Line.”

He pauses, meeting each and every one of your eyes, before, his raises his hand to the sky and screams;

“Nothing’s gonna stand in our way! Yeah!”

Without hesitation, you lean back, inhaling sharply before letting out a bellow of; “Woohoo!”

[saebyeokbliss]

could u do a fic of saebyeok in college, but she sells drugs. Only cocaine, marijuana, and ecstasy. She does it so she can take care of cheol ofc. Saebyeok is also known to be a hoe. Constantly flirting with girls around campus so they can buy wtv drugs she has, sleeping w girls and then treating them like the don’t exist the next day. Yet saebyeoks fast life came to a complete stop when she met you. A shy girl who’s very clever. Saebyeok noticed a guy hitting on u w u visibly uncomfortable so saebyeok came to rescue you. After she asked if u had any money to buy some drugs off her to which you said you did’nt. Saebyeok asked if u smoked. The truth is you didn’t, you hated all drugs. It was embarrassing ur a 21 yr virgin hanging around saebyeok who has had her head in between a fair share of womens legs. Any ways you and saebyeok become fwb (friends w benefits). She acts like she doesnt like you,she says you guys are only using eachother to get off. She’s not entirely wrong but what happens when u both start developing feelings and saebyeok tells u a bit abt her personal life when shes high?

(Can we pretend saebyeok is 22 and reader is 21 🙏)

-💝( still dk if ur doing emoji anons it’s ok if not! No pressure)

ALL THE STARS

pairing: dealer!college au!kang sae-byeok x fem!reader synopsis: kang sae-byeok had a reputation around your college. the dealer, the girl who could get anyone she wanted. however, just like anyone else, she had a past and a life beyond what people called her. and you just happened to be the one to change her. warnings: angst, language, mentions of violence, illness, past trauma, drug use (past), recovery themes, slow burn, emotional moments, hurt/comfort

a/n: had this one brewing for while hehe

The red ink on the paper burned into your vision, each stroke of the professor’s pen a reminder of your failure.

72%.

It wasn’t failing, not technically, but for you? It may as well have been. You had always prided yourself on your intelligence, on your ability to stay ahead of the curve. But this? This was unacceptable.

Slumping in your seat, you shoved the paper into your bag, avoiding the pitiful glances from classmates who knew how much this would bother you. As soon as the lecture ended, you all but stormed out of the hall, only stopping when a familiar voice called after you.

“Hey, hey, slow down.” Ji-min grabbed your wrist gently, pulling you to a stop. Her brows furrowed as she studied your expression. “What’s wrong?”

You exhaled sharply. “I bombed the exam.”

Ji-min blinked. “Wait—bombed?” She scoffed. “What’d you get, a 90?”

“…72.”

Her lips parted slightly in surprise before she quickly schooled her expression into something more neutral. “Okay, so not your best, but it’s not the end of the world.”

“It feels like it,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.

Ji-min sighed, looping her arm through yours as she led you out of the building. “You need to relax. You’ve been overworking yourself for weeks, and it’s catching up to you. It’s just one test, and you’ll bounce back—like you always do.”

You didn’t respond, letting her drag you along as you sulked in silence. Ji-min was probably right, but that didn’t make you feel any better.

“Which is exactly why,” she continued, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “you’re coming to the party tonight.”

You groaned. “Ji-min—”

“Nope. No arguing.” She tightened her grip on your arm. “You need a night to unwind. And don’t even try to say you have studying to do.”

“I do, though,” you huffed.

“You always do.” Ji-min shook her head. “But just this once, let yourself breathe. Have a little fun. You don’t even have to drink—just come, dance a little, talk to people. Who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone.”

You rolled your eyes. “Because that’s exactly what I need right now.”

“Yes, actually.” She grinned. “A distraction.”

You frowned, hesitating. The idea of going to a crowded, sweaty party wasn’t exactly appealing, but… maybe Ji-min had a point. Maybe you did need a night to forget about everything—just for a little while.

“…Fine,” you relented, sighing.

Ji-min squealed in victory, squeezing your arm excitedly. “You won’t regret it.”

You had a feeling you just might.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, second-guessing every single choice you had made for the night.

The black miniskirt hugged your waist just right, and the red lace top was a little more revealing than what you usually went for, but Ji-min had insisted that you “embrace your hotness.” Paired with delicate white lace socks and Mary Janes, you looked… cute. Maybe even really cute.

But was it you?

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts. “Come on, let me see you!” Ji-min’s voice rang through your small apartment.

You sighed, smoothing down your skirt before stepping out. Ji-min’s eyes widened the moment she saw you, a grin stretching across her lips.

“Oh my God.” She grabbed your hands and spun you around. “You look adorable—but also kinda sexy? It’s giving ‘innocent but could ruin lives.’” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being correct.” Ji-min smirked, looping her arm through yours as she led you toward the door. “Come on, let’s go before you change your mind.”

The party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. The bass of whatever rap song was playing vibrated through the walls, and the air smelled like a mix of alcohol, weed, and sweat. People were packed into the house, some dancing, some making out in corners, and others just drunkenly shouting over the music.

You hesitated in the doorway, already overwhelmed.

Ji-min, on the other hand, was in her element.

“Alright, I’m gonna go kick some ass in Apateu,” she said, referring to the drinking game she was obsessed with. She gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be fine, yeah? Just get a drink, talk to people. You look too good to be standing alone all night.”

Before you could protest, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd with a wave.

You sighed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall, feeling out of place. You weren’t much of a drinker, and you weren’t interested in hooking up with some stranger, so what were you even doing here?

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed when someone stepped into your personal space.

“Hey,” a voice drawled.

You blinked up at the guy standing way too close to you. He was tall, decently attractive, but the cocky smirk on his face made you uneasy.

“You here alone?” he asked, his eyes shamelessly roaming over you.

You shifted uncomfortably. “No, I’m with a friend.”

He chuckled, taking a sip of whatever was in his red cup. “Haven’t seen you at one of these before. You new?”

You shook your head. “Not really. Just don’t go to parties much.”

“Makes sense. You seem… different from the usual crowd.” His smirk widened as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. “In a good way.”

You forced a polite smile, wishing Ji-min would miraculously reappear and drag you away.

“So, you wanna dance?” he asked, stepping closer.

You took a step back, your heart starting to race—not in a good way. “I’m okay, thanks.”

“Oh, come on.” He reached out, fingers brushing your arm. “Just one dance.”

Your stomach twisted. You weren’t scared, not exactly, but the way he was looking at you, like you were something to be convinced, made you uneasy.

And then—

A voice, smooth and slightly amused, cut through the tension.

“She said no.”

You turned your head, and there she was.

Kang Sae-byeok.

You had seen her around campus before—everyone had. She was infamous. Mysterious, sharp-eyed, and always carrying that lazy smirk that made girls fall at her feet, only to be discarded by morning. She was trouble, the kind of trouble that came wrapped in leather jackets and cigarette smoke, the kind that left a mess in its wake.

And right now, she was looking at the guy in front of you like he was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“She said no,” Sae-byeok repeated, her voice firm, yet almost bored, like she had dealt with this kind of thing a hundred times before.

The guy scoffed, his grip on his drink tightening. “And who the hell are you?”

Sae-byeok tilted her head slightly, her dark eyes glinting under the dim party lights. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you back the fuck off.” She took a step closer, her presence alone enough to shift the energy in the air.

The guy hesitated, glancing between you and Sae-byeok, clearly debating whether it was worth pushing his luck. He must have decided against it because he let out an annoyed huff and muttered, “Whatever,” before disappearing into the crowd.

You exhaled, realizing you had been holding your breath.

“You okay?” Sae-byeok asked, her gaze flickering to yours.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”

She studied you for a moment, then smirked. “He bothering you before I showed up?”

“Kind of,” you admitted, shifting on your feet. “He wouldn’t take the hint.”

Sae-byeok hummed, like she had expected that answer. “Guys like him are everywhere,” she muttered. Then, her smirk widened slightly. “Good thing you’ve got me, huh?”

You blinked. “I—uh—”

She chuckled, clearly amused by your flustered expression. “Relax. I’m just messing with you.” Her eyes flicked over your outfit, and she let out a low whistle. “Didn’t know girls like you came to these parties.”

You frowned. “Girls like me?”

She shrugged. “You just seem… different.”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or not. “Ji-min dragged me here,” you admitted.

“Ah.” Sae-byeok nodded knowingly. “That makes sense.”

You raised a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

She smirked. “That you don’t really belong here.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught between offense and curiosity. “And you do?”

Sae-byeok chuckled, but there was something unreadable in her expression. “More than you think.”

Before you could ask what she meant, she leaned in slightly, close enough that you caught the faint scent of cigarettes and something sweet—maybe perfume, maybe something else.

“You got any money?” she asked, voice low.

You blinked, confused by the sudden shift. “What?”

“For a little something to take the edge off.” She smirked, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “Coke, weed, molly—I’ve got whatever you need.”

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t do drugs. You didn’t even drink.

“I don’t—” You hesitated, suddenly embarrassed. “I don’t do that stuff.”

Sae-byeok raised a brow, clearly surprised. “Really?”

You nodded.

She studied you for a second before her smirk returned, this time softer, almost teasing. “Cute.”

Heat crept up your neck. “I—I should probably find Ji-min.”

Sae-byeok chuckled, stepping back slightly. “Go ahead.”

You hesitated for a moment before turning to walk away, but you barely took two steps before her voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You glanced over your shoulder.

Sae-byeok tilted her head, her dark eyes flickering with something unreadable. “See you around, yeah?”

You swallowed hard. “…Yeah.”

And with that, you disappeared into the party, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason than before.

The children’s home was always quieter than you expected.

You had been coming here for nearly a year now, visiting your little sister, Yu-jin, whenever you could. And yet, every time you stepped through those doors, the sterile stillness of the place made your chest tighten.

Yu-jin’s face lit up the moment she saw you, her small frame practically tackling you in a hug. “Unnie!”

You laughed softly, wrapping your arms around her. “Hey, baby. Did you miss me?”

She pulled back just enough to pout up at you. “Obviously.”

Your heart ached. She was only eight, still too young to really understand why she was here, why your parents—if they could even be called that—had decided she was too much to take care of. But she understood enough to know that you were the only one who still came back for her.

You spent the next hour with her, playing board games, helping her braid the hair of one of her dolls, and listening to her ramble about the latest school drama—who stole whose eraser, who got in trouble for talking too much, and how she definitely deserved extra dessert at lunch today.

It was a small escape, a moment where you could pretend things were normal.

But eventually, visiting hours started to wind down, and you had to say goodbye.

Yu-jin clung to your waist as you knelt in front of her. “You’ll come back soon, right?”

You smiled, brushing some hair out of her face. “Of course. I’ll be back before you even have time to miss me.”

She huffed. “Too late for that.”

Your chest tightened again, but you just pressed a kiss to the top of her head before gently prying her arms from around you. “Be good, okay?”

She nodded reluctantly, stepping back as one of the caretakers came to usher her inside.

You watched until she was out of sight before turning to leave, your heart heavy.

And that’s when you saw her.

Kang Sae-byeok.

She was walking down the hallway, hands shoved in the pockets of her oversized hoodie, her face unreadable. But what caught your attention wasn’t just her—it was the fact that she had just come from the same visiting area you had.

For a moment, she didn’t see you. But then, just as she was about to walk past, her dark eyes flickered up and met yours.

Recognition flashed across her face—followed immediately by something else. Something guarded.

You opened your mouth to say something, maybe a simple “hi,” maybe a question about why she was here, but before you could get a word out, she brushed past you without a single glance back.

No smirk. No teasing remark. Nothing.

Just silence.

You stood there, stunned, watching as she disappeared through the exit like she couldn’t get away fast enough.

And for the first time since meeting her, you saw a version of Sae-byeok that had nothing to do with her reputation, with the confident, untouchable girl who flirted with strangers and sold drugs like it was second nature.

This was something else entirely.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it.

You really needed to start saying no to Ji-min.

Another party, another night of being dragged into a place where you didn’t belong. The music was loud, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and weed, and bodies moved together in a sweaty, chaotic rhythm.

You sighed, nursing the same half-empty cup of soda you had been holding for the past twenty minutes. Ji-min had already disappeared into some drinking game, leaving you to lean against the wall, watching the party unfold around you.

And then—

A familiar voice, smooth and teasing, cut through the noise.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here again.”

You turned your head, heart stuttering for half a second.

Sae-byeok.

She was dressed in her usual effortless way—baggy jeans, a fitted black top, and her signature leather jacket slung over her shoulders. But it wasn’t just her presence that caught you off guard.

It was the fact that this time, she was actually talking to you.

“I could say the same about you,” you shot back, raising a brow.

Sae-byeok smirked. “Pretty sure that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it. “What do you want?”

She tilted her head like she was considering something, her dark eyes scanning over you in a way that made your skin heat. “Maybe just some company.”

You blinked. “You? Want my company?”

She chuckled, leaning against the wall beside you. “Yeah, why not?”

You hesitated. After what happened at the children’s home, you half-expected her to keep avoiding you. But now, here she was, acting like that moment had never happened. Like she hadn’t practically run past you without a word.

Maybe it was better not to ask.

So instead, you shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “Fine. But I’m not drinking, so if you’re trying to—”

“I don’t care about that,” she interrupted, smirk still in place. “Just talk to me.”

And so, you did.

You weren’t sure how it happened, but somehow, you and Sae-byeok ended up spending the rest of the party together. She wasn’t as closed-off as you’d expected—she was sarcastic, quick-witted, and had a way of making you laugh without even trying.

She also had a way of making you nervous.

Because the longer you talked, the closer she got. A hand on your waist as she leaned in to hear you better. Fingers brushing against your arm, her breath warm against your ear when she made a teasing remark.

By the time you realized what was happening, it was already too late.

You wanted her.

And she knew it.

Which was probably why, an hour later, you found yourself pressed against your apartment door, Sae-byeok’s lips hot against yours.

You barely remembered how you got there. One second, she was murmuring something about leaving the party, and the next, her hands were on you, her jacket discarded somewhere on the floor as she kissed you like she had been waiting all night for it.

Your fingers tangled in her hair, a soft gasp escaping you when she pressed her body flush against yours. She tasted like cigarettes and something sweet, something undeniably her.

“This okay?” she murmured against your lips, her hands slipping under your shirt, warm against your skin.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah.”

That was all she needed.

The rest of the night blurred together in a haze of soft moans and tangled sheets, of Sae-byeok’s lips against your skin, her hands exploring every inch of you like she was mapping out something she planned to return to.

And when it was over, when you were both spent and lying in the quiet of your room, you half-expected her to leave.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she lay next to you, her breathing steady in the dim light. Not touching, not speaking. Just existing in the same space.

It felt like something shifted in the air between you.

Something unspoken.

Something neither of you were ready to acknowledge.

Not yet.

The thing about sleeping with Kang Sae-byeok was that it didn’t just stay in your apartment.

It bled into your everyday life—subtle but unmistakable.

At school, it was the way her hand would brush against your waist when she passed by in the hallway, her fingers just barely ghosting over the fabric of your skirt before she was gone. It was the way she’d smirk at you across the library, eyes dark with implication, as if daring you to recall exactly what she had done to you the night before.

It was in the stolen moments between classes, when she’d pull you into an empty classroom or an abandoned stairwell, pressing you against the wall with her lips on your neck, her hands slipping under your shirt just long enough to leave a mark—something only the two of you knew was there.

Yet no one ever caught on.

Not Ji-min, who still dragged you to parties without realizing you had already found the ultimate distraction. Not your professors, who had no idea that the reason you were sometimes a little dazed in class was because Sae-byeok had been between your legs just an hour before.

And certainly not the girls who still fell for Sae-byeok’s effortless charm, unaware that no matter how much she flirted, no matter how many lingering glances she gave them, she always ended up in your bed.

But if anyone should have noticed, it was Chae-won.

Chae-won was one of Sae-byeok’s old hookups—one of many, from what you had heard. She was also a regular customer, which was probably why she was currently pressed up against Sae-byeok outside of one of the campus buildings, whispering something in her ear.

You weren’t close enough to hear, but you didn’t need to.

You could tell exactly what was happening.

Sae-byeok, however, looked… bored.

She handed Chae-won a small baggie—probably molly, maybe coke—and took the cash in exchange, slipping it into her pocket without a word.

Chae-won, clearly expecting more, leaned in closer, her fingers trailing down Sae-byeok’s arm. “Come on, babe,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to catch. “It’s been a while.”

Sae-byeok didn’t even hesitate.

“No.”

Chae-won blinked. “What?”

Sae-byeok sighed, stepping back slightly. “You got what you wanted,” she said, nodding toward the baggie in Chae-won’s hand. “Now go.”

Chae-won’s expression twisted into something almost petulant. “So that’s it? You’re just done with me?”

Sae-byeok’s gaze was flat. “Yeah.”

For a second, Chae-won looked like she might argue, but then she scoffed, shoving the drugs into her pocket. “Whatever,” she muttered before turning on her heel and stalking away.

Sae-byeok watched her go, her expression unreadable. Then, as if sensing your gaze, she glanced up—directly at you.

You raised a brow.

She smirked.

And just like that, she was walking toward you, slipping her hands into her pockets like nothing had happened.

The room was quiet except for the occasional hum of traffic outside your window and the soft rustling of sheets as Sae-byeok shifted beside you.

She was staying the night again.

It had started as just another hookup, another night tangled in each other, breathless and flushed against the sheets. But now, hours later, she was still here, lying on her back, staring up at the ceiling as she took another hit from the joint she had rolled earlier.

You watched as she exhaled slowly, the smoke curling lazily in the dim glow of your bedside lamp.

“You’re gonna stink up my room,” you muttered, but there was no real annoyance in your voice.

Sae-byeok smirked, turning her head to look at you. “You say that like I haven’t already.”

You rolled your eyes, but she wasn’t wrong. The scent of weed mixed with the lingering traces of sweat and sex—of her—was all over your sheets.

You expected her to just enjoy her high in silence, like she usually did. But tonight, something was different.

Because tonight, Sae-byeok started talking.

“You ever think about how fucked up everything is?” she mused, her voice slightly hazy from the weed.

You blinked. “That’s… vague.”

She chuckled, but there was something bitter underneath it. “I mean life. How some people just get fucked over from the start while others have everything handed to them.” She took another drag, then exhaled. “I used to think I could change that. Like, if I worked hard enough, I could make things better.”

You stayed quiet, sensing something deeper in her words.

Sae-byeok let out a sharp breath, shaking her head. “But that’s bullshit. No matter how hard you work, if you’re born at the bottom, you stay at the bottom—unless you’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

You swallowed, watching the way her fingers tightened slightly around the joint.

“That’s why I do what I do,” she continued, staring at the ceiling again. “Selling, stealing, fucking people over if I have to. Because no one’s ever given a shit about me or my brother, so why should I play by the rules? The rules were never made for people like us.”

Her voice cracked slightly on that last part, and your chest ached.

You had known—or at least suspected—that her life wasn’t easy. But hearing it from her, hearing the raw frustration, the exhaustion, the pain in her words… it was different.

You hesitated before reaching out, gently taking the joint from her fingers and setting it aside in the ashtray.

She turned her head toward you, blinking slowly, her pupils blown wide from the high.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked softly.

Sae-byeok scoffed, but it lacked her usual sharpness. “Maybe I’m too high to shut up.”

You studied her for a moment before murmuring, “Or maybe you just don’t want to be alone with it anymore.”

She didn’t say anything, but the way her jaw tightened told you enough.

You moved closer, hesitantly brushing your fingers over hers. Her breath hitched slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

Instead, she turned onto her side, her dark eyes searching yours, something vulnerable flickering beneath the usual guardedness.

Then, suddenly, her lips were on yours.

It wasn’t like your usual kisses.

This wasn’t rushed, wasn’t just a means to an end. This was slow, deep, desperate in a way that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with something neither of you were ready to name.

You kissed her back just as fiercely, your fingers threading through her hair, pulling her closer, grounding her.

When you finally broke apart, your foreheads rested together, your breaths mingling in the quiet.

“I’m here for you,” you murmured. “Not just for this. For you.”

Sae-byeok tensed slightly, like she wasn’t sure how to process that.

But then, after a long moment, she exhaled and pressed her lips to yours again—softer this time.

The children’s home always had a certain stillness to it, but today, it felt different. Heavier.

You had barely stepped through the doors when the head caretaker, Mrs. Park, approached you, her expression unusually serious.

“Ah, you’re here,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. “I was hoping to talk to you.”

Your stomach twisted. “Is Yu-jin okay?”

Mrs. Park hesitated, and that hesitation alone was enough to make your heart drop.

“She hasn’t been feeling well lately,” she admitted gently. “Nothing too alarming, but she’s been fatigued, hasn’t had much of an appetite, and she’s been getting a lot of bruises.”

You frowned. “Bruises?”

“She says she doesn’t remember how she got them,” Mrs. Park continued, concern etched into her features. “Normally, I’d assume it’s just roughhousing with the other kids, but… I think it would be best if you took her to a doctor.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Yu-jin was small, but she was tough. She rarely got sick, and when she did, she never complained about it.

If she was acting off, then something was really wrong.

“I’ll take her,” you said immediately. “I’ll call around and see if I can get an appointment for her soon.”

Mrs. Park nodded, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “She’s in the playroom. She’ll be happy to see you.”

You forced a smile, but your mind was already racing.

You didn’t have much money. Your parents had made sure of that when they dumped Yu-jin at the home and left you to fend for yourself. You could probably scrape together enough for a basic check-up, but if something more serious was going on…

You swallowed hard. You couldn’t think like that. Not yet.

Taking a steadying breath, you made your way to the playroom.

Yu-jin’s face lit up the moment she saw you, but as she ran toward you, you noticed it.

She looked pale. Too pale. And when she threw her arms around you, she felt too light, like she had lost weight since your last visit.

“Unnie!” she chirped, but her voice had a slight rasp to it.

You pulled back slightly, trying to keep the worry off your face. “Hey, baby,” you murmured, brushing some hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”

She shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”

“Mrs. Park said you’ve been tired a lot,” you pressed gently.

Yu-jin pouted. “I just get sleepy. And my legs feel weird sometimes.”

Your stomach clenched.

You needed to get her to a doctor. Soon.

But how the hell were you going to afford it?

And Sae-byeok wasn’t stupid.

She noticed things.

She noticed the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes when you greeted her. The way your responses were shorter, more distant. The way you barely reacted when she slid a hand along your waist in the empty hallway between classes, when normally, you’d roll your eyes and tell her to behave.

At first, she didn’t say anything.

She just watched.

Waited.

But when you barely looked at her during the entire party Ji-min had dragged you to, she had enough.

The moment she got you alone—outside on the balcony, away from the swarm of drunken students—she pressed you against the railing, her hands bracketing you in, her dark eyes scanning your face.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked bluntly.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“You’ve been weird all week.” Her head tilted slightly, searching your expression. “What’s going on?”

You swallowed, avoiding her gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

Sae-byeok didn’t buy it.

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “You never get tired of this.” Her fingers brushed against your hip, her touch light but suggestive. “So what is it?”

For a second, you almost gave in.

Almost let her kiss the thoughts out of your head, let her hands distract you from the weight sitting heavy on your chest.

But you just… couldn’t.

Gently, you reached down and pushed her hand away.

“I’m just not in the mood,” you murmured, barely recognizing the words as they left your lips.

Sae-byeok froze.

It was small, barely noticeable, but you felt the way her body tensed for half a second before she pulled back.

She studied you, her expression unreadable.

Then, she scoffed lightly, shoving her hands into her pockets. “Huh.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered, glancing away. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing back into the party without another word.

You exhaled, gripping the railing tightly as you shut your eyes.

You knew she wasn’t mad.

But you also knew that Sae-byeok didn’t do feelings.

And for the first time, you worried that she might take your distance as something it wasn’t.

That she might think you didn’t want her anymore.

When really, she was the only person you didn’t want to push away.

Sae-byeok hadn’t planned on staying long.

She never did when she came to visit Cheol. The children’s home always felt too sterile, too full of things she didn’t want to think about. But she came anyway—because Cheol needed her. Because she was the only one looking out for him.

But today, something was wrong.

The moment she stepped through the front gates, she noticed the emergency vehicle parked outside, its flashing lights casting eerie reflections against the windows. A group of caretakers stood near the entrance, their faces tight with concern as paramedics wheeled out a small gurney.

A child lay on it.

A little girl.

Sae-byeok barely spared the scene a glance. Kids got sick all the time. Accidents happened. It wasn’t any of her business.

She walked past them, slipping inside the building and heading toward the playroom where she knew Cheol would be.

When she found him, he was sitting on the floor, his coloring book open in front of him—but he wasn’t coloring. He was just staring at the page, gripping a crayon so tightly his knuckles were white.

Sae-byeok frowned, crouching down beside him. “What’s with you?”

Cheol glanced up, his face unusually serious. “Yu-jin got sick.”

Sae-byeok blinked. “Who?”

“My friend.” He pointed toward the door, as if she should’ve already known. “She was here with me. We were coloring, and then she said she felt dizzy. She tried to stand up, but she just—” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “She fell, noona. She wouldn’t wake up. The teachers called the ambulance.”

Something in Sae-byeok’s chest twisted uncomfortably.

She exhaled, ruffling Cheol’s hair in what she hoped was a reassuring way. “She’ll be fine,” she muttered. “Hospitals know what they’re doing.”

Cheol didn’t look convinced, but he just nodded, his small fingers still clenched around the crayon.

Sae-byeok sighed, about to change the subject—

Then, movement outside caught her eye.

She turned her head, glancing through the window just in time to see you rushing toward the caretakers, your face pale, your breathing uneven.

You were crying.

Sae-byeok went still.

You barely even spoke before one of the women gently grabbed your arms, trying to steady you, trying to explain something.

And suddenly, everything clicked.

The little girl.

Yu-jin.

Your sister.

Sae-byeok’s stomach dropped.

She had never asked much about your life. Never pried, never pushed. But she had seen you at this home before. She had known you were visiting someone.

And now, she knew exactly who.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she watched you wipe at your tears, nodding shakily to whatever one of the caretakers was saying before turning toward the emergency vehicle.

Sae-byeok wasn’t sure what she was doing before she was already moving.

Sae-byeok barely spared Cheol a glance as she stood up.

“I gotta go,” she muttered, ruffling his hair quickly before heading for the door.

She ignored the way he called after her, ignored the way her own pulse pounded in her ears.

Because right now, nothing mattered except getting to you.

By the time she stepped outside, you were still standing near the emergency vehicle, your hands shaking as you wiped at your face. The paramedics were already inside, shutting the doors, preparing to drive off.

Sae-byeok barely hesitated before striding up to you.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice sharp but not unkind.

You startled slightly, turning to her with wide, tear-filled eyes. For a second, you just stared at her, like you couldn’t believe she was actually here.

Then, your face crumpled, and you exhaled shakily.

“It’s Yu-jin,” you murmured. “She—she’s been sick for weeks, but I thought—” You swallowed hard, gripping your arms as if to hold yourself together. “She collapsed. They think it’s aplastic anemia.”

Sae-byeok frowned. “What the hell is that?”

“It—it means her bone marrow isn’t making enough blood cells. She’s been pale, getting bruises, getting tired easily…” You inhaled sharply, shaking your head. “I should’ve taken her to a doctor sooner.”

Your voice broke on that last word, and Sae-byeok felt something clench painfully in her chest.

She wasn’t good at this. At comforting people. At knowing what to say.

But fuck, she hated seeing you like this.

So she did the only thing she could.

“Come on,” she said, grabbing your wrist firmly but gently.

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m coming with you.”

You hesitated, your lip trembling. “Sae-byeok, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” she interrupted. “But I’m still going.”

You stared at her for a moment, like you were trying to find a reason to push her away.

But then, something in you gave in.

You nodded.

And without another word, the two of you got into your car and drove to the hospital.

Sae-byeok didn’t let go of your wrist the entire way.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and something sterile, something cold.

You hated it.

You sat in one of the stiff plastic chairs in the waiting room, your knee bouncing anxiously, your fingers twisting together in your lap. The fluorescent lights above you buzzed faintly, but everything else had faded into white noise.

You could still see Yu-jin in your head—too pale, too small, strapped to a gurney with an oxygen mask over her face as they wheeled her away.

Your stomach twisted.

Beside you, Sae-byeok sat silently, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

She hadn’t left your side since you got here.

She hadn’t said much either—not since the nurse had told you that Yu-jin was being stabilized, that a doctor would come speak to you soon.

At first, you weren’t sure why she had come at all.

This wasn’t her problem. She didn’t do emotional support. She didn’t do waiting rooms or hospitals or sitting next to you while you tried to keep from falling apart.

But she was here.

And when your breath hitched, when your fingers clenched into fists against your thighs, she moved.

Wordlessly, her hand slid over yours, her fingers prying yours open, threading through them.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sae-byeok exhaled softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know.”

You turned to look at her. “She’s all I have.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened slightly, her dark eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place.

Then, after a long moment, she squeezed your hand.

“No, she’s not.”

Your lips parted slightly, your pulse stuttering.

Sae-byeok didn’t elaborate.

She just kept holding your hand, grounding you, keeping you tethered to something solid as the minutes dragged by.

The waiting room had never felt so suffocating.

Every second that passed felt like an eternity, stretching thin over the weight pressing against your chest. Sae-byeok’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you grounded, keeping you from spiraling completely.

Then, finally, the doctor arrived.

She was a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a clipboard tucked under her arm. She gave you a small, professional smile before sitting down across from you.

“You’re Yu-jin’s guardian?” she asked gently.

You nodded quickly. “Yes. How is she?”

The doctor sighed, folding her hands in her lap. “She’s stable for now, but her condition is serious. Aplastic anemia is rare, but it can be treated. However, it requires aggressive management—blood transfusions, medications, and in severe cases, a bone marrow transplant.”

Your stomach twisted. “A transplant?”

She nodded. “It’s the best chance for a full recovery, but it’s not easy to find a compatible donor. In the meantime, we’ll need to start her on immediate treatments to manage her symptoms.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears. “And… how much will that cost?”

The doctor’s expression softened, as if she had been expecting that question. “That depends. Do you have insurance?”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

Your fingers curled against your jeans, gripping the fabric tightly. You could feel Sae-byeok watching you, waiting for your answer.

But you didn’t have one.

Because you already knew the truth.

You had nothing. No insurance. No savings. Just barely enough money to scrape by, let alone pay for something as massive as this.

But you couldn’t say that.

Not out loud.

So instead, you swallowed past the lump in your throat and forced a small, polite smile.

“Thank you for your help, doctor,” you murmured.

The woman hesitated, her gaze flickering over you, as if she could see the weight of what you weren’t saying.

But she just nodded. “Of course. I’ll have a nurse bring you the paperwork soon. In the meantime, you can see Yu-jin once she’s moved to a room.”

You nodded stiffly, watching as the doctor stood and walked away.

The second she was gone, you felt Sae-byeok shift beside you.

“You don’t have insurance,” she said flatly.

You inhaled sharply, keeping your eyes on the floor. “I’ll figure something out.”

Sae-byeok didn’t respond right away.

Then, quietly—

“You can’t pay for this, can you?”

Your throat tightened.

You couldn’t look at her.

Because if you did, you’d break.

So instead, you just squeezed your hands into fists, forcing yourself to take a deep breath.

“I’ll figure it out,” you repeated, but the words felt empty.

Because you had no idea how.

Lunch at school was usually loud—full of chatter, laughter, and the occasional shouting match over stolen food.

But at your table, it was quiet.

You barely touched your tray, pushing food around absentmindedly with your chopsticks. Your mind was still at the hospital, still stuck in that suffocating waiting room, still haunted by the sight of Yu-jin lying in that hospital bed, too small, too pale.

Sae-byeok sat across from you, watching.

She had been watching you all morning.

And when she finally spoke, her voice was calm. Steady.

“Here.”

You blinked, looking up just in time to see her slide something across the table toward you.

A thick envelope.

You frowned. “What is this?”

Sae-byeok didn’t answer right away. She just leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her expression unreadable.

“Take it,” she said simply.

You hesitated, fingers hovering over the envelope before finally picking it up and peeking inside—

And your breath caught.

It was cash.

A lot of cash. Stacks of bills, neatly bundled together, more money than you had ever held in your hands before.

Your stomach twisted. “Sae-byeok…”

“For Yu-jin,” she said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head immediately, pushing the envelope back toward her. “No. No, I can’t take this.”

Sae-byeok’s jaw clenched. “You don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I do!” Your voice was quiet but urgent, pleading. “Sae-byeok, this is your money. You worked for this. I can’t take everything you have—”

“I don’t need it,” she interrupted.

You swallowed, shaking your head again. “Please,” you whispered. “Don’t do this.”

For the first time, something flickered in her expression. Maybe frustration. Maybe something else.

But after a moment, she exhaled, grabbing the envelope and shoving it back into her bag.

“Fine,” she muttered. “I won’t force you.”

You sagged with relief. “Thank you.”

Sae-byeok didn’t say anything.

She just nodded, finishing her food in silence.

You thought that was the end of it.

You thought she had listened.

But you should’ve known better.

Sae-byeok skipped her afternoon classes.

No one stopped her when she slipped out the back of the school, her bag slung over her shoulder, her hood pulled up.

She had a job to do.

Getting to the hospital didn’t take long. She had been there before, knew her way around well enough. And it wasn’t hard to figure out where to go—she had overheard the doctor say Yu-jin’s name, had seen the forms in your hands.

Kim Yu-jin.

When she reached the billing office, she didn’t hesitate.

The receptionist barely glanced up. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to pay a bill,” Sae-byeok said smoothly, pulling out the envelope of cash and setting it on the counter. “For Kim Yu-jin.”

The receptionist blinked, clearly surprised. “Are you a family member?”

Sae-byeok didn’t even flinch. “Yeah.”

The woman hesitated before nodding, typing something into the computer. “Alright. The family still has a significant balance, but this will cover a large portion of the immediate treatments.”

“Good.”

The receptionist paused, glancing at the cash before looking back at her.

“No questions?” she asked carefully.

Sae-byeok met her gaze, unblinking. "Nope."

You knew something was wrong the moment you walked into the hospital.

The nurse at the front desk greeted you with a polite smile, the kind that only made your stomach twist.

“Good evening, Miss Kim,” she said. “We wanted to let you know that a substantial payment was made toward Yu-jin’s treatment earlier today.”

Your breath caught.

“What?”

The nurse nodded. “Yes, a young woman came in this afternoon. She said she was family and paid in cash.”

Your fingers curled against the counter.

A young woman.

Cash.

No.

No, she wouldn’t—

Your heart pounded as you spun on your heel, barely muttering a thank-you before storming out of the hospital.

You already knew where to find her.

Sae-byeok was leaning against the gate in front of the school when you found her, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But the moment she saw your face, her expression shifted.

You didn’t slow down.

The second you reached her, you shoved at her shoulder—hard.

She barely stumbled, just blinked at you, unimpressed. “What the hell—”

“What did you do?” you hissed.

Sae-byeok exhaled, rolling her eyes. “You already know.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides. “I told you not to—”

“And I told you that you didn’t have a choice.”

Your chest tightened. “That wasn’t your decision to make!”

Sae-byeok scoffed. “Yeah? And what was your plan, then? Huh?” She took a step closer, her voice low but sharp. “Just sit around and hope the money magically appears? Let Yu-jin get worse because you’re too fucking proud to accept help?”

You flinched, your throat tightening. “That’s not—”

“She needs treatment,” Sae-byeok snapped. “She needs money. And you don’t have any.”

You swallowed hard, blinking rapidly. “And you do?”

She didn’t answer.

But she didn’t have to.

Because you knew.

You had always known.

Sae-byeok didn’t have a normal job. She didn’t come from money. The cash she had given you—it wasn’t clean.

And she had spent it all on you.

Your eyes burned.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered.

Sae-byeok’s jaw tightened. “Yeah, well.” She looked away, exhaling sharply. “Too late.”

Something in you cracked.

Because this—this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to need her. You weren’t supposed to owe her.

But now, you did.

And you had no idea how to handle that.

So instead, you just inhaled shakily, shaking your head. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Sae-byeok studied you for a long moment.

Then, quietly—

“I don’t want your money.”

You swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly in her pockets.

Then—

“You.”

Your breath hitched.

But before you could even begin to respond, she turned away.

“Come on,” she muttered. “I’ll walk you home.”

And just like that, the conversation was over.

But the weight of her words stayed with you the entire way back.

[loserdiscourse]

the issue here is that when people refer to “women” (i’ll get to that in a sec) as menstruators or birthing bodies, we’re not just referring to women. we’re also referring to trans men and nonbinary people with vaginas. If you personally identify as a woman, and would like to be called a mother, breast feeder, etc., i will call you that, since it is what you as an individual would like to be referred as. However, you can not speak for all people with vaginas.

And as for referring to trans women as cockowners, ballsack havers, and ejaculators, it may seem like an inclusive (albeit crude) term on the surface. In reality, calling specifically trans women these terms serves no purpose, except for unjust bigotry and transphobia.

The difference between calling anyone with a vagina a “menstruator” and calling all trans women “penis havers”, is that people with vaginas who are not women should be included when talking about female reproductive health. “Trans women” is already a term that basically means “penis haver”, while also being able to respect their identities.

Think of it this way. All* trans women are penis havers, but not all penis havers are trans women.

*saying “all” is a bit disingenuous, as there are intersex trans women that don’t have (or just have) penises, and some trans women undergo surgeries to have a vagina/vulva

Now i know you’re going to argue with something along the lines of “but why do women get referred to as [x inclusive term], but trans women get to be referred to as trans women??” well you see, “trans woman” is a sub category of “woman” (well, it’s a bit more complicated than that, but that’s another discussion). The category “Women” refers to the gender. “trans woman” and “cis woman” are also gender identities, but they also speak for unique life experiences regarding “woman” as a gender. (I could get into how these experiences differ, but it’s not entirely relevant right now.) Essentially what i’m trying to get at is that the “trans” prefix (?) is already a signifier of that person’s gender and sex. (same with “cis”.) There is no need to call trans women “penis havers” if “trans woman” already means “woman with a penis”. I mean, by all means, refer to all people with penises as “penis havers”, but don’t push that onto individuals who don’t want to be called that, just like how i will call you a woman/mother/breastfeeder if that’s what you prefer.

so no, your suggestion was not truly inclusive, and most definitely not “kind and fair”

still thinking about the first time I got banned from instagram. I commented on a post about inclusive language suggesting we call trans women cock owners, ballsack havers and ejaculators similarly like we call women menstruators or birthing bodies. I think my suggestion was fair and kind, truly inclusive.

[gainercontent]

The Popcorn Effect

Dean adjusted the cuffs of his crisp, navy-blue button-up for the third time that evening. His hands were steady—he was a lawyer, after all—but the slight pulse of nerves in his fingertips betrayed him. It wasn’t the movie. It wasn’t even Valentine’s Day. It was the fact that he was here, waiting outside a neon-lit theater, about to go on his first date with a man.  

With Arthur.  

Arthur, who was everything Dean wasn’t—towering, broad-shouldered, and exuding the kind of easy confidence that made heads turn. Arthur, with his smirking lips and that damn leather jacket that somehow made him look like he belonged in both a romance novel and a street fight.  

And Arthur, who, much to Dean’s bewilderment, was obsessed with Tarot cards and crystals. The last time they got coffee, Arthur had pulled a deck out of his back pocket, laid down a few cards, and told Dean that his future held “a shift in perspective.”  

“Yeah, it’s called trying not to get disbarred,” Dean had muttered.  

But he was here.  

Dean looked up just in time to see Arthur crossing the street toward him, boots heavy against the pavement, his expression half-amused.  

“You look nervous,” Arthur said, stopping right in front of him.  

“I’m a lawyer,” Dean replied smoothly, straightening. “I don’t do nervous.”  

Arthur just tilted his head, grinning. “Right.”  

Without missing a beat, Arthur reached down and took Dean’s hand, threading their fingers together with an effortless kind of certainty. Dean glanced around, feeling the warmth of Arthur’s palm, aware of how easily the action flipped something in his chest—exhilaration, maybe. Panic, definitely.  

Arthur didn’t seem to care about any of that. “Come on, counselor. I already got us tickets.”  

Dean let himself be pulled forward, taking a breath. It was fine. It was just a movie. It wasn’t like they were getting married.  

As they walked toward the entrance, Dean glanced up at the glowing marquee: **Alamo Drafthouse.** He’d never been here before, but Arthur had insisted on it. Something about “real food” and “people who actually shut up during the movie.”  

“You’ll like it,” Arthur said as if reading his mind.  

Inside, the theater was dimly lit, the scent of buttered popcorn thick in the air. A retro aesthetic covered the walls—old film posters, vintage projectors, a bar lined with craft beer taps. Dean had to admit, it was kind of cool.  

Arthur led them to their seats—back row, of course.  

“I can already tell you’re the type of guy who gets mad about plot holes,” Arthur murmured as they sat down.  

“I just appreciate logical storytelling,” Dean said. “Something I assume you don’t require from a deck of Tarot cards.”  

Arthur chuckled. “Mock all you want, but I could do a reading for you right now.”  

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t pull his hand away when Arthur rested it on his knee.  

The previews started. The lights dimmed further.  

Dean tried to focus on the screen, but his mind kept drifting—not to the movie, but to the weight of Arthur’s presence beside him, the press of their shoulders, the realization that he was comfortable like this. That he wanted to be here.  

Maybe Arthur was right. Maybe there *was* a shift in perspective happening after all.  

And maybe, just maybe, Dean didn’t mind.  

*****

The moment they sat down, Arthur stretched his long legs out like he owned the place. Dean, still adjusting to the dim lighting and plush seats, barely had time to glance at the menu before Arthur waved over a server.  

“We’ll do the bottomless popcorn and two large sodas,” Arthur said smoothly, not even looking at Dean for input.  

Dean turned toward him, eyebrows lifting. “Excuse me?”  

Arthur smirked. “You seem like a guy who’d pretend he doesn’t want popcorn, then steal half of mine. This is just efficient.”  

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but the server was already jotting it down and heading off. He sighed, crossing his arms. “What if I wanted something else?”  

Arthur turned his head slowly, giving him a lazy, amused look. “Did you?”  

Dean hesitated.  

Arthur grinned. “That’s what I thought.”  

Before Dean could throw out some witty comeback, Arthur casually reached over and pressed the glowing red button on the side of Dean’s seat.  

With a low mechanical hum, the recliner shot backward. Dean’s knees jerked up, his feet flying into the air as he sank deep into the seat. His stomach did a weird little flip, caught between surprise and the bizarre comfort of the position.  

Arthur chuckled beside him. “Relax, counselor.”  

Dean pushed himself up slightly, attempting to regain some of his composure. “Arthur, what the hell—”  

“Shh.” Arthur didn’t even look at him, eyes fixed on the screen. “I love the previews.”  

Dean huffed, shifting in the recliner. “Are you serious?”  

Arthur just gave a slow nod, reaching for the armrest between them. He casually flipped up the divider, eliminating the barrier between their seats like it was nothing. Now there was no space between them at all.  

Dean blinked. He should have expected that.  

The first preview played, a dramatic action sequence with explosions and intense music. Arthur, completely engrossed, reached for the popcorn the moment it arrived, tossing a handful into his mouth without a care in the world.  

Dean exhaled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”  

Arthur glanced at him, grinning mid-chew. “You’ll thank me later.”  

Dean doubted it. But as the next preview rolled, and he found himself settling further into the recliner—feet still up, body weirdly at ease.

Dean wasn’t going to eat the popcorn.  

At least, that’s what he told himself as he reclined in his seat, arms crossed, determined to prove Arthur wrong. But as the previews rolled on, the buttery, salty aroma curled around him, teasing his senses. Arthur, of course, was eating without a care in the world, shoveling handfuls of the golden kernels into his mouth like it was his last meal.  

Dean tried to ignore it. He really did.  

But then Arthur tilted the bowl slightly toward him, as if issuing a silent challenge.  

Dean sighed. One handful wouldn’t hurt.  

The first bite was warm, crisp, and perfectly seasoned. The saltiness paired with the rich, melted butter in a way that made his taste buds light up. He chewed slowly, savoring it, then instinctively reached for his soda to wash it down. The ice-cold fizz of cola hit just right, cutting through the buttery taste and leaving him refreshed.  

Okay. Maybe another handful.  

Before he knew it, he had settled into a steady rhythm—popcorn, soda, popcorn, soda. His fingers found the bowl without thought, each handful just as satisfying as the last. Arthur said nothing, but Dean could feel the smirk radiating off of him.  

Whatever. He wasn’t going to give Arthur the satisfaction of commenting on it.  

But as Dean ate, something strange was happening. Subtle at first, almost unnoticeable. A soft pressure against his belt, the fabric of his shirt shifting slightly over his stomach.  

With each bite, he was growing softer. His lean frame, usually defined and sharp, was slowly rounding out. His stomach, once flat beneath his button-up, began to press gently against the fabric, the buttons pulling just a bit tighter. His thighs, always slim, were gradually thickening, settling more heavily against the recliner’s plush cushion.  

The popcorn was *doing* something to him.  

But Dean didn’t notice. The act of eating was too easy, too enjoyable. The warmth of the theater, the comfort of the reclined seat, the smooth rhythm of popcorn and soda—it was all lulling him into a relaxed, mindless state.  

His jaw worked steadily, bite after bite, as his body quietly softened. His arms, once toned, now had a slight heaviness to them. His jawline, usually sharp, began to smooth ever so slightly, a new fullness appearing in his cheeks.  

His stomach, growing steadily, formed the faintest curve over his waistband. Nothing dramatic, but enough that his belt, once comfortable, now pressed more firmly into his skin. He shifted slightly, unaware of the way his posture had changed—his body settling deeper into the chair, spreading just a little more than before.  

By the time the first round of bottomless popcorn was gone, he leaned back with a satisfied sigh, rubbing his stomach absentmindedly. He felt *full,* but in a comforting, indulgent way. His clothes felt just a bit different—his shirt not quite as loose, his pants hugging him in ways they hadn’t when he first sat down.  

Arthur finally turned to him, one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Enjoying yourself?”  

Dean scoffed, wiping a stray kernel from his lap. His movements were a little slower, a little heavier. “It’s *fine*.”  

Arthur’s smirk deepened, but he said nothing.  

The server arrived just then, seamlessly refilling their popcorn bowl. Dean barely reacted—just reached for another handful without thinking, the cycle continuing as his body adjusted to its softening, thickening reality.  

Arthur chuckled under his breath, but this time, Dean was too preoccupied to care.  

*****

Dean had always been an effortlessly slim guy. Years of high-stress work and too many skipped meals had kept him trim, his suits always fitting perfectly without much effort. But something was… off.  

As he reached for another handful of popcorn, sinking deeper into the recliner, he couldn’t shake the strange sensation creeping over him. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly—just a subtle awareness that his body felt *different.*  

Buttery kernels melted on his tongue, the warm saltiness mingling perfectly with the ice-cold fizz of his soda. He took another sip, draining nearly half the massive cup in one go, sighing in satisfaction as the carbonation tingled through his chest. Then, without thinking, he grabbed another handful of popcorn.  

Arthur sat beside him, calm and knowing, as Dean absentmindedly continued his indulgence. The changes were happening more rapidly now, creeping over his frame with each bite.  

His stomach, once lean and taut, was rounding out unmistakably. The slight pressure against his waistband had turned into a steady, growing tightness. The fabric of his shirt stretched over his middle, no longer hanging loosely the way it had when he first sat down. The lowest button on his shirt was straining now, the fabric pulling just slightly when he leaned forward to grab more popcorn.  

His belt, once a comfortable accessory, was pressing into his waist, no longer just snug but actively digging into his growing softness. He shifted slightly, trying to ease the pressure, but the reality was unavoidable—his body was *filling out.*  

His thighs had thickened considerably, pressing more firmly against the plush seat. Where before there had been space between them, now they met at the midpoint, a soft warmth spreading between his legs. His slacks, tailored to his once-slim frame, were starting to feel restrictive, the fabric hugging his growing quads and squeezing slightly at his hips.  

Dean shifted again, rolling his shoulders, but that only made him aware of the changes there, too. His chest—once flat and firm—had softened, rounding subtly beneath his shirt. The fabric clung in ways it never had before, a faint tightness along his upper torso that he might have mistaken for an odd laundry shrinkage if he weren’t so deep in popcorn-induced bliss.  

Even his face wasn’t spared. His sharp jawline had begun to soften at the edges, his cheeks carrying a bit more fullness. His collar pressed lightly against his neck, not tight but noticeably snugger than before.  

And yet, Dean still hadn’t pieced it together.  

He *felt* something was different, sure, but his brain wasn’t making the connection. All he knew was that he felt… heavier. Not weighed down, exactly, but *settled* in a way he hadn’t before. His movements had a slight sluggishness to them, his limbs resting more heavily against the recliner.  

He exhaled, shifting once again, frowning slightly as his belt dug into him a little more than before.  

Arthur, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eye, finally spoke. “Something wrong, counselor?”  

Dean hesitated. “…No.” He stretched subtly, rolling his shoulders again, adjusting the way he sat. His stomach pressed against his shirt, the fabric pulling ever so slightly as he inhaled.  

Arthur smirked. “You sure? You look a little… stuffed.”  

Dean huffed. “I’m fine,” he said, more to convince himself than Arthur. “Just… I don’t know. I feel a little weird.”  

Arthur hummed in amusement, swirling his soda cup. “Weird how?”  

Dean paused. He wasn’t sure how to explain it. There was an undeniable heaviness in his body, a fullness beyond just the popcorn in his stomach. His clothes felt different. His posture had changed. But it was subtle—just subtle enough to be dismissed as nothing more than post-movie-theater bloat.  

“…Forget it,” Dean muttered, brushing it off.  

Arthur just chuckled, eyes flicking toward the bowl of popcorn still in Dean’s lap. “You gonna finish that?”  

Dean didn’t answer immediately. His belly was pressing snugly against his shirt now, the pressure noticeable—but at the same time, the buttery aroma was still so inviting, the mix of salt and soda still so addictive.  

He exhaled, reaching for another handful.  

Arthur leaned back with a satisfied smirk, watching as Dean absentmindedly continued eating, his body still subtly expanding, still softening, still changing.  

Dean sighed, shifting in his seat as the movie faded into intermission. His stomach felt uncomfortably full, pressing tightly against his waistband. He hadn’t meant to eat so much, but something about the popcorn had been impossible to resist—one handful after another, until the bottomless bowl had been refilled *twice.*  

Now, though, he really needed to get up.  

He planted his hands on the armrests and tried to push himself forward, but something felt… off. His body didn’t move as easily as he expected. His stomach pressed heavily into his lap, his thighs spreading wide enough that they now filled the seat entirely. When had the recliner gotten so *deep*?  

Frowning, he tried again, shifting his weight forward, but his midsection resisted—his belt dug sharply into his waist, his slacks pulling uncomfortably tight. He grunted softly, his face heating with embarrassment.  

Arthur turned his head, raising an eyebrow. “You stuck?”  

Dean scowled. “I *got* it.”  

But before he could try again, Arthur casually reached over and pressed the button on Dean’s seat.  

The recliner hummed to life, slowly moving upright. But as it did, something *else* happened—something Dean wasn’t prepared for.  

As the seat lifted, his body was forced forward, pressing against the constraints of his clothes. His stomach, already pressed tightly against his waistband, was suddenly *squeezed* as he was pushed upright. The belt bit into his middle, his slacks stretching to their absolute limit.  

Then—  

*Pop.*  

A small but unmistakable *snap* sounded beneath his shirt.  

Dean froze.  

Arthur, expression unreadable, casually sipped his soda.  

Dean swallowed hard, refusing to look down. He *knew* what had happened. His pants—once tailored perfectly to his slim frame—had finally given up, the button popping off under the pressure of his thickened waistline.  

He pretended not to notice.  

Clearing his throat, he *carefully* pushed himself upright, feeling the resistance in his body, the added weight that made the motion far less effortless than it should have been. His thighs pressed firmly together, his hips shifting in a way that felt *foreign.* His shirt pulled snugly over his stomach, the lower hem straining to stay tucked into his pants.  

“Where you headed?” Arthur asked, voice tinged with amusement.  

Dean straightened, ignoring the way his belt, now unbuckled from the missing button, barely kept his pants in place. “Bathroom,” he muttered, forcing a casual tone.  

Arthur smirked but said nothing.  

As Dean stepped into the dimly lit theater aisle, he immediately realized something else—walking *felt* different. His steps were heavier, his balance slightly off. His thighs brushed with every movement, the new fullness shifting with him. His stomach had a subtle bounce he wasn’t used to, the unfamiliar weight pressing forward as he moved.  

His slacks, once comfortable, were now snug around his hips and rear, the waistband sitting precariously low thanks to the missing button. He had to *adjust* them as he walked, subtly tugging them up, horrified at the way they clung to his body.  

By the time he reached the restroom, his pulse was racing.  

He stepped inside, bracing himself, then turned to the mirror.  

His stomach dropped.  

The reflection staring back at him wasn’t quite his own. Or rather—it *was,* but softer, fuller, and undeniably heavier.  

His face was the first thing he noticed. His sharp jawline had softened considerably, the angles blunted by a slight roundness to his cheeks. His collar sat higher against his neck, no longer loose but snug against flesh that hadn’t been there before. His lips parted slightly, breath hitching as he took in the rest of himself.  

His once-trim waist had thickened *significantly.* His stomach pressed visibly against his shirt, the fabric stretched tightly over the newly developed curve. Without the button to hold his pants together, his belt was doing most of the work, but even that was starting to strain. The lower hem of his shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing just a sliver of soft skin beneath.  

His chest had changed, too. It wasn’t just muscle anymore—there was a roundness to it, a noticeable softness beneath the fitted fabric of his button-up. His shoulders still carried some of their usual sharpness, but his arms had thickened, his sleeves clinging a bit too snugly around them.  

And then there were his thighs.  

Dean exhaled sharply, shifting his stance. His legs had always been long and lean, but now they were *thick.* His quads pushed against the fabric of his slacks, the material visibly creased from how tightly they hugged his legs. His hips had widened slightly, his posture subtly changed by the added mass. His belt, sitting lower than before, was the only thing stopping his pants from slipping further down.  

Dean stared at himself, breathing heavy.  

*What the hell is happening?*  

He lifted a hand to his stomach, pressing hesitantly against the softness. It *yielded* under his touch, his fingers sinking slightly before meeting resistance. He could *feel* the difference, the unfamiliar weight sitting on his frame.  

He swallowed hard.  

This wasn’t just bloating. This wasn’t just a bad angle.  

He had *gained weight.* And not just a little.  

Dean sucked in a breath, trying to straighten his posture, trying to pull his shirt down further. But no matter how he adjusted, the reality remained—his body had changed.  

And he had no idea how, or *why.*  

Dean stood frozen in front of the bathroom mirror, his pulse hammering in his ears. His reflection—softer, rounder, *heavier*—stared back at him, undeniable proof that something unnatural was happening. His once-trim body had filled out with unfamiliar weight, his midsection pressing snugly against his shirt, his belt barely holding his slacks in place after his pants button had popped.  

And yet, beneath the shock and disbelief, something *else* was gnawing at him.  

A deep, insistent *hunger.*  

At first, he thought it was just the unease settling in his gut, the nerves twisting in response to his inexplicable transformation. But no—this was different. This hunger wasn’t normal. It wasn’t the kind that built gradually or could be ignored. It was *immediate* and *demanding*, an empty, aching void in his stomach that hadn’t been there minutes ago.  

His belly rumbled loudly, the sound deep and unnatural, almost echoing in the tiled restroom.  

Dean’s breath hitched. He pressed a hand to his midsection, feeling the soft new curve of his stomach through the fabric. How could he *still* be hungry? He had eaten more popcorn than he cared to admit, washing it down with gulps of soda, filling himself beyond what should have been comfortable. And yet, this hunger was like nothing he’d ever experienced—deep, primal, consuming.  

His throat went dry. He needed to get out of here.  

Swallowing hard, he straightened his shirt as best he could—not that it helped much. The fabric was still stretched too tight over his torso, his stomach still pushing against the waistband of his slacks. He couldn’t even suck it in properly; the fullness was *real.* Every step he took felt different, the added weight shifting with him in a way that made his movements feel subtly off-balance.  

The walk back to the theater was agonizing.  

His thighs, thick and unfamiliar, brushed with every step. His pants clung too snugly to his hips, forcing him to adjust them every few feet. Even his chest felt heavier, a slight bounce beneath his shirt that he *refused* to acknowledge. The hunger clawed at him the entire time, growing stronger the closer he got to his seat, as if something was *pulling* him back.  

By the time he stepped back into the dim glow of the theater, his stomach was outright *growling.*  

And that was when he saw it.  

A fresh, untouched bowl of steaming, buttery popcorn sat in front of Arthur.  

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, dread coiling in his gut.  

Arthur turned his head slightly, his expression calm, almost amused. “Took you long enough.”  

Dean didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the popcorn—golden, glistening, perfectly warm, as if it had just been delivered.  

“…Did you order more?” His voice came out weaker than he wanted.  

Arthur shrugged, sipping his soda. “You could say that.”  

Dean’s mouth went dry. He tore his gaze from the bowl and glanced down at Arthur’s seat. His armrest—the one with the *call button*—was glowing faintly, indicating it had been pressed multiple times.  

*He’s been ordering refills this whole time.*  

Arthur tilted his head, his smirk barely contained. “Something wrong?”  

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it again. His thoughts were a jumbled mess.  

His body had changed—there was no denying that. His shirt was tight, his belt barely holding on, and his pants fit like they were two sizes too small. His stomach *should* have been full to bursting. And yet, standing there, staring at that fresh bowl of popcorn, all he could feel was *hunger.*  

His belly gave another deep, greedy growl.  

Arthur’s eyes flicked toward the sound, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he simply gestured toward the recliner beside him. “You gonna sit down, or what?”  

Dean hesitated. Every rational part of him screamed to stop—to *think*—to question *why* this was happening. But the hunger… the hunger was unbearable.  

Almost against his will, he stepped forward and sank back into his seat.  

The recliner adjusted under his weight, creaking softly in a way it hadn’t earlier. His stomach pressed against his lap more noticeably now, his thighs spreading wider than before. His belt dug into his middle, a constant reminder of how much his body had changed.  

Arthur nudged the popcorn bowl closer.  

Dean stared at it, heart pounding. He *shouldn’t.* He *couldn’t.*  

But his hand was already reaching for it.  

Arthur sipped his soda, watching with quiet amusement. “Enjoy,” he murmured.  

Dean popped a handful into his mouth, and the moment the buttery kernels hit his tongue, his fate was sealed.  

The hunger *demanded* to be fed.  

And Dean, helpless against it, obeyed.  

Dean barely registered Arthur’s movement until it was too late.  

A soft *click* sounded beside him, and suddenly, his seat whirred to life. The recliner tilted back, his body sinking deeper into the plush cushions.  

But this time—*this time*—the feeling was completely different.  

As the chair eased back, the added weight pressing down on his body became *impossible* to ignore. His newly grown stomach—soft, heavy, undeniably full—pushed outward, settling heavily onto his lap. The pressure of it was startling. It wasn’t just a small bit of fullness anymore; it was a real, noticeable weight, resting on him, pressing against his frame.  

His belt strained even more, his slacks digging painfully into his sides. His shirt stretched taut across his midsection, rising ever so slightly, barely able to contain him. He felt *pinned* beneath himself, his body settling into place with an unfamiliar heft.  

Dean sucked in a sharp breath.  

Arthur, unfazed, smirked. “Comfy?”  

Dean *wasn’t*—not exactly. But the worst part? The hunger *still* hadn’t gone away.  

His stomach, now undeniably round and soft, gave another quiet *growl*, the sound muffled but persistent.  

It made no *sense.*  

He had already eaten *so much.* His body told him he was full—his tight clothes, his heavy limbs, the way his belly pushed against everything—but at the same time, the hunger gnawed at him, deep and relentless.  

And the popcorn was still there.  

Arthur nudged the bowl closer again, watching him expectantly.  

Dean hesitated for half a second—just long enough to acknowledge that he *should* stop, that he *should* question what was happening to him.  

But then his hand moved, almost without thought.  

Another handful. Another bite.  

The moment the buttery kernels touched his tongue, everything else faded.  

He chewed slowly at first, savoring the warmth, the saltiness, the way the butter coated his lips. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he let the flavors melt into his senses. The recliner cradled him, the plush seat molding around his expanded form.  

He should have felt uncomfortable—stuffed, overfed, *trapped* by his own growing body—but instead, all he could focus on was the addictive cycle. *Popcorn. Soda. More popcorn. More soda.*  

Each bite sent another subtle shift through him, another layer of softness settling into place. His stomach pushed a little heavier against his lap. His thighs spread a little wider against the seat. His belt, strained past its limit, felt like it could give way at any second.  

But Dean didn’t stop.  

The more he ate, the less he could think about how different his body felt.  

Arthur, calm as ever, simply sipped his soda, watching as Dean continued—bite after bite, sip after sip, sinking further into the chair, growing softer, fuller, *heavier* with every moment.  

By the time Dean absentmindedly reached the bottom of the bowl, he had gained another twenty pounds.  

Unknown to Dean, he was now about a full *fifty* pounds heavier than when the night had started.  

And still, the hunger remained.  

*****

Dean barely noticed when Arthur reached for the call button again.  

He was too lost in the haze of warmth and fullness, too caught up in the steady rhythm of eating, drinking, *growing*. His recliner cradled him in its embrace, his expanded frame sinking deeper into the plush cushioning. He felt *heavy*, his body pressing down in ways that still startled him—but somehow, he didn’t *hate* it.  

And then—  

*Ding.*  

Arthur had ordered another refill.  

Dean swallowed hard, his stomach stretching taut against his now *achingly* tight shirt. The buttons at the center strained dangerously, fabric pulled to its absolute limit over the fullness of his belly.  

He should have stopped by now. He *knew* he should have. But when the server quietly placed another *steaming*, golden bowl of popcorn in front of them, the scent alone made his stomach growl, eager and demanding.  

Arthur chuckled, low and deep, and Dean felt a warm hand settle over his shoulder.  

“You’ve really got an appetite, huh?” Arthur murmured.  

Dean’s breath hitched.  

Arthur’s arm draped over him, pulling him in close. It was effortless, as if Dean belonged tucked against his side. The warmth of Arthur’s body, the solid strength of his frame, sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. He should have been embarrassed—should have been *mortified* by how much he had gained in just a few hours—but the way Arthur touched him, firm yet possessive, made shame feel like an afterthought.  

Dean opened his mouth to respond, to say *something*, but Arthur beat him to it.  

“Eat,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement. “I’ll keep you comfortable.”  

Dean *should* have protested.  

But he didn’t.  

Instead, he grabbed another handful of popcorn.  

And the moment he started eating again, the changes resumed—faster, more intense than before.  

The added weight settled into him *immediately*. His stomach swelled, pressing heavier onto his lap, pushing against the fabric of his shirt with undeniable force. His thighs thickened further, spreading against the seat, pressing into Arthur’s with soft, yielding warmth. His arms, once toned and lean, filled out with plushness, his sleeves tightening around the softening flesh.  

And then—  

*Pop.*  

The first button gave way.  

Dean stiffened, his breath catching as the strain on his shirt finally reached its breaking point.  

*Pop.*  

A second one.  

The fabric pulled even tighter, barely containing him—  

*Pop. Pop. Pop.*  

The rest of his buttons *burst open*, one after another, his belly spilling free into the open air. The sudden release made him exhale sharply, warmth flooding his cheeks. His stomach *was huge*, round and undeniably full, pushing outwards with soft, growing heft.  

Arthur’s grip tightened around him.  

“There he is,” Arthur murmured, his voice dark with approval.  

Dean shuddered.  

Arthur’s hand slid lower, tracing over his side, his touch deliberate and lingering. Dean inhaled sharply, feeling the way his newly softened body reacted to the contact. His skin was sensitive, warm, *alive* beneath Arthur’s fingers.  

“I think you’re enjoying this,” Arthur whispered, lips brushing just near Dean’s ear.  

Dean *was*.  

The weight, the warmth, the way Arthur was touching him—*it felt good*.  

Better than good.  

Dean’s breathing grew heavier, his pulse hammering as Arthur pressed closer, his strong fingers tracing the new softness of Dean’s belly, lingering at the edges before slipping beneath the fabric.  

Dean gasped.  

Arthur chuckled, clearly enjoying how *responsive* he was.  

“You feel amazing,” Arthur murmured.  

Dean bit his lip. He knew he should be *shocked* by what was happening to his body, by how much he had changed. But Arthur’s touch, his warmth, his *presence* made it impossible to care.  

For the first time all night, Dean let himself relax.  

Let himself *sink* into the moment.  

Arthur’s hand slid lower, his breath hot against Dean’s skin, and Dean closed his eyes, giving in completely.  

Valentine’s Day had never felt this good before.  

Dean leaned back into the recliner, his belly rising and falling with each slow breath, his shirt hanging open in tatters. He should have felt humiliated, but Arthur’s presence—his arm still draped over him, fingers occasionally tracing along his softened side—kept him grounded.  

Arthur chuckled low in his throat, giving Dean’s exposed belly a playful pat. “You, my friend, are officially *boyfriend material*.”  

Dean blinked, his dazed mind struggling to process the words. “Boyfriend material?”  

Arthur smirked. “Mmhmm. You’re cute, you’re fun, and you look *real* good all filled out like this.” He squeezed Dean’s side gently, his thumb brushing against warm, stretched skin. “Definitely my type.”  

Dean’s face burned. He *should* have protested. *Should* have questioned how any of this made sense. But sitting there, basking in Arthur’s attention, his words sank into him like honey. It felt *nice* to be admired. To be *wanted.*  

Arthur reached down, pulling off his oversized leather jacket. “Here,” he said, draping it over Dean’s shoulders. “Can’t have you walking out of here half-naked.”  

Dean swallowed thickly. The jacket was warm, still carrying Arthur’s scent—leather, cologne, and something undeniably *him*. It swallowed Dean up, the large fit doing a decent job of covering his ruined shirt, though it couldn’t hide the heavy curve of his stomach pressing forward.  

Arthur stood first, stretching, and then turned to offer Dean a hand.  

Dean hesitated.  

He was *so* full. So heavy. His body felt different, weighed down in ways that still surprised him. His recliner had molded around him, making the act of *getting up* seem like a task in itself.  

Arthur’s hand remained outstretched, firm, patient. “Come on, babe.”  

Dean exhaled and took it.  

The moment he started to stand, *he knew something was wrong*.  

His balance felt *off*. His thighs brushed more than they should have. His stomach shifted as he straightened, pressing forward under the weight of his fullness. He barely had time to register it before—  

*Rrrrip.*  

The sound was unmistakable.  

Dean froze.  

His breath hitched as a rush of cool air hit his exposed backside.  

Arthur made a strangled noise—somewhere between a laugh and a hum of appreciation. “Well, *that* was inevitable.”  

Dean clapped a hand over his mouth, mortified. “Arthur—”  

Arthur grinned. “Relax, babe. Happens to the best of us.” He slid an arm around Dean’s waist, his grip *strong*, supportive, *possessive*. “Let’s get you to the car.”  

Dean’s heart pounded as Arthur guided him toward the exit, keeping a firm hold on him. Every step felt *different*, his body heavier, softer, more *aware* of itself than ever before. The remains of his pants clung uselessly to his thighs, his overgrown form barely concealed by the leather jacket.  

But Arthur? Arthur acted like this was *completely normal*.  

Like he *wanted* him like this.  

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Arthur pulled Dean in closer, his voice low and teasing.  

“Guess I’ll have to keep you in my clothes from now on.”  

Dean’s face burned.  

And yet, beneath the embarrassment, beneath the shock of how much he had changed—  

A tiny, undeniable part of him *liked* that idea.  

*****

The car ride was a blur.  

Dean sat in the passenger seat, Arthur’s oversized leather jacket wrapped tightly around him, barely concealing the wreckage of his clothes. His pants were beyond saving, split down the back and hugging his fuller thighs in a way that made movement difficult. His shirt? Utterly destroyed. And beneath it all, his body—*soft, heavy, undeniably changed*—settled into itself, pressing against the seat, his stomach nudging up against the seatbelt.  

And yet…  

Arthur’s hand never left his thigh.  

It was casual at first—just resting there, warm and grounding. But as they drove through the quiet streets, Arthur’s fingers began tracing slow, teasing circles against Dean’s leg, his touch light but deliberate.  

Dean should have been panicking, should have been freaking out about his *impossible* weight gain, about the way his body had expanded so quickly in just a few hours. But every time doubt crept in, Arthur squeezed his thigh a little, anchoring him, reminding him how *good* it felt to be wanted.  

“Let’s go back to my place,” Arthur murmured as they pulled up to an apartment complex. His voice was smooth, confident, laced with something undeniably suggestive. “Netflix, chill, and maybe… I’ll keep you warm.”  

Dean’s stomach fluttered—an entirely new sensation given its size.  

He *should* have hesitated. He *should* have questioned what was happening.  

But Arthur’s smirk, his touch, the way he *looked* at him like he was the most *irresistible* thing in the world—it made it impossible to say no.  

“…Yeah,” Dean said, voice softer than usual. “Yeah, okay.”  

Arthur’s apartment was exactly what Dean expected—dimly lit, tastefully messy, filled with small touches of personality. Shelves lined with books on astrology and mysticism. Tarot cards scattered on the coffee table. The faint scent of incense in the air.  

Dean would have made a skeptical remark *any other night.* But tonight? He barely noticed.  

Arthur guided him to the couch, helping him ease down with surprising gentleness. “You good?”  

Dean exhaled, settling into the cushions. “Yeah, just—full.” He glanced down at himself, the leather jacket shifting slightly to reveal the swell of his belly. *More than full.* He *felt* the difference in his body—how his middle rested against his lap, how his arms felt just a little thicker, how *big* his thighs looked, pressing against each other in a way they hadn’t before.  

Arthur’s gaze flicked over him, slow and appreciative. “You wear it well.”  

Dean’s face went hot. “Shut up.”  

Arthur chuckled, settling beside him. The couch dipped under his weight, and before Dean could react, Arthur’s arm was around his shoulders, tugging him in. The warmth of him, the firm grip, the *undeniable chemistry* between them—it sent a pleasant shiver through Dean’s body.  

The TV hummed to life, some action movie starting up in the background, but neither of them really paid attention.  

Arthur leaned in, his voice low, teasing. “You know… I think I like you better like this.”  

Dean swallowed hard. “Like what?”  

Arthur’s fingers trailed along his side, over the softness that hadn’t been there before. “Relaxed. Indulgent. *Comfortable*.”  

Dean’s breath hitched. Arthur’s hand wasn’t just resting anymore—it was *exploring*, tracing lazy patterns over his belly, along his waist, down his thigh. It should have been embarrassing. He *should* have pulled away.  

But he didn’t.  

Because for the first time, Dean wasn’t thinking about how different he looked.  

He was thinking about how *good* it felt to be touched like this.  

Arthur smirked, leaning in, lips brushing against Dean’s ear. “You’re *gorgeous*, babe.”  

Dean’s heart *skipped*.  

His body was different—softer, heavier, undeniably changed—but Arthur didn’t just accept it. He *adored* it. And for the first time, Dean let himself *believe it*.  

He turned his head slightly, closing the space between them, and Arthur took the invitation without hesitation. Their lips met, slow at first, then deeper, more *needy*. Arthur’s grip tightened, pulling Dean closer, pressing him into the couch, making sure he *felt* every inch of his desire.  

Dean melted into him, his doubts and disbelief fading into the background.  

Whatever had happened tonight—however impossible it was—there was no denying one thing:  

Arthur *wanted* him.  

And God help him—Dean wanted Arthur too.  

The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, Arthur’s hands moving over Dean’s softened frame like he *owned* every inch of it. Dean barely noticed when the leather jacket slipped from his shoulders, leaving him bare-chested, his exposed skin still warm from the rush of their night.  

Arthur pulled back slightly, his lips hovering just over Dean’s, his breath hot against his skin. “You’re addictive, you know that?” he murmured, his fingers trailing lazily down Dean’s belly, tracing the new curve of it with clear admiration.  

Dean swallowed hard, still breathless. “You don’t… think this is weird?” His voice was quiet, uncertain. “I mean—*this*—” He gestured vaguely at himself, at the fullness of his stomach, the undeniable weight of his transformation.  

Arthur smirked, his grip tightening around Dean’s waist. “Weird? No. Expected?” He tilted his head. “Maybe a little.”  

Dean stiffened. “…What do you mean?”  

Arthur exhaled, his fingers pressing into Dean’s side, his expression somewhere between amusement and something almost—*possessive*. “That popcorn? It wasn’t exactly *normal*.”  

Dean’s stomach twisted. “Arthur.”  

Arthur sighed, shifting, his hands settling on either side of Dean’s belly. “It’s a bit of a… *ritual*,” he admitted. “A way to open you up to pleasure, indulgence. *Abundance.*” His eyes gleamed. “And judging by how much you enjoyed yourself, I’d say it worked.”  

Dean’s breath hitched.  

He wanted to be *angry*. Wanted to shove Arthur away, demand answers, *demand to know how the hell this was possible*.  

But his body betrayed him.  

Because the moment Arthur’s hands moved again—skimming over his softened stomach, his warm, newly plush sides—Dean *shivered*.  

Arthur leaned in, his lips brushing over Dean’s jaw. “The magic doesn’t just change you for one night,” he murmured. “It… *adjusts* things.”  

Dean’s stomach let out a soft, traitorous *growl*.  

Arthur chuckled. “Like your appetite.”  

Dean inhaled sharply. “You’re telling me—”  

“That you might *always* be this hungry now?” Arthur smirked. “Yeah. Probably.”  

Dean’s head spun. *This wasn’t happening.*  

But the warmth of Arthur’s touch, the heat between them, the way Arthur *looked at him*—it made it so much harder to care.  

Arthur’s lips found his again, stealing his protests, drowning them in something deeper, *hotter*. Dean exhaled shakily, barely noticing as Arthur guided him backward onto the couch, pinning him beneath his solid, muscular frame.  

“You can be mad at me later,” Arthur murmured against his lips. “Right now? Let’s see just how much you like this new body of yours.”  

Dean’s heart pounded, his body already surrendering.  

Maybe—just *maybe*—this wasn’t a bad thing after all.  

[scented-morker]

The best part

bff riki x gn!reader, best friends to ?, no warnings, 653 words, cliffhanger 🤪

Everyone knows confessions are the best part of any love story, second only to the first kiss— bonus points if they happen in the rain or during a heated argument.

“Yn, Yn, Yn, Yn.”

You will NOT be missing this confession. You’ve been preparing for it for the last hour and 17 minutes of the movie, and Riki’s refusal to pay attention is not going to ruin it for you.

“Yn!!”

The love interest yells as the main character turns around, the rain drops starting to come down on the two of them.

“I’ve always loved you,” he says, pulling her even closer.

And then— nothing.

A pillow flies into your face, and you turn to Riki with murder in your eyes.

“Nishimura Riki I am going to kill you.”

Your best friend only laughs as you lunge across the couch at him, and the two of you easily fall into the same rhythm as usual.

You try your best to cause Riki as much pain as possible while he gives you just enough of a chance for it to still be fun.

He holds onto your fist as you go to hit his shoulder, laughter echoing through the room as he dodges your knee next. After about five minutes he decides he’s had enough, rolling the two of you over and pinning your hands next to your side.

“Feel better?” He teases, an eyebrow raised as you slowly stop squirming.

“Noooooo,” you whine, “you made me miss the best part!”

“The best part?” He scoffs. “That’s the worst part! You know it’s coming as soon as the movie starts.”

“You just don’t get romance!” You argue back.

That makes him pause, and he finally lets go of you enough that you can sit up, sparing a quick glance over only to be met with the credits rolling down your tv screen.

“Had it ever occurred to you that knowing something is coming is part of what makes it exciting? Of course the best friends become lovers. I know it’s going to happen, I just want to see it!”

For how loud he normally is, Riki remains completely quiet, not a single sound leaving his mouth as you grab the remote to rewind the movie.

“Has it ever occurred to you that we’ve spend more valentines days together than we have with people we were actually dating?”

The question seems random, and you look over at him in confusion, finding him staring back at you.

“Not really, I mean I guess it makes sense. We spend pretty much every day together.”

You laugh at the way it comes out, but it’s the truth. You and Riki had been inseparable since his family moved in next door to yours in kindergarten.

Even now, as the two of you recline on the futon in his dorm room, you know you’ve been in that exact spot more times than you’ve been in your own dorm.

“Does that make you sad?” He asks, and you try your best not to look at him in shock.

“Riks, why would that make me sad?” You laugh, scooting closer to where he’s sitting, completely unaware to the effect your movements have on the boy.

“You just love this cheesy romance stuff, and instead you’re stuck with me.”

You smile gently, and it’s the exact smile that first made him realize how utterly screwed he was.

“And you’re stuck with me. That’s how we are. Besides, you’re way better than any boyfriend I’ve had anyway.”

You don’t notice him leaning closer until his head is resting on your shoulder, and when he looks up, you finally notice it.

Riki’s entire face lights up when he grins up at you, not one ounce of his soft adoration concealed in his eyes.

Your breath hitches in your throat, and the words are coming out before you can think to stop them.

“Riki I love you.”

[ccazimi]

been seeing a bit more discourse on here about whether heian era sukuna would have concubines so…

culturally speaking, yes i do believe it’s entirely plausible since concubines were a thing back then. we even see yorozu mention she doesn’t want sukuna to have concubines if they get married

the only reason I think he wouldn’t have them is because of sukuna’s personality as gege has written him- the key aspect here which ive said before and will say again is that i do believe he is canonically asexual. why? if a man like sukuna had a sexuality he would be a MENACE. sukuna does things entirely for his own pleasure, he clearly likes to eat and sex isn’t a very far off indulgence from food (imo). i also think he would use sex to assert his power/authority as well. but gege is not that type of author, and so for the sake of jjk, i would say sukuna is written like he’s asexual.

now if he did have a sex drive and in this case let’s just say he’s straight, i do think it wouldn’t be crazy he’d have concubines. people argue he can barely stand yorozu so he’d be too annoyed to have all those women around him, and yes true, but as it’s written in a lot of fics with this concubine set up, the women exist solely for his pleasure— their lives don’t mean anything to him beyond what’s necessary (sex) and so for that reason im assuming the average heian era concubine of sukuna would go to great lengths to be deferential and take care not to bother him, understanding his ruthless nature

the only other likely reason i could think of if heian era sukuna was NOT asexual, is that he didn’t have that kind of noble estate setup to keep concubines around. but he was shown to have a himuro which were expensive back then and pretty much only owned by nobility. and if he had an ice house, that meant he stored food and was probably settled somewhere. so i dont think it would be too insane to stretch it so that he had an estate as well.

the point is, if we stuck completely to the canon version of him it would simply be no fun