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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Text

SULLied MINd

Male Reader x Kim Minju, Seol Yonna (Sullyoon)

Length: 10.228 words

Tags: art-project all nighter turns threesome, secret crushes, softly making out, stripping, striptease, shy to bold, double blowjob, worshiping cock and balls, cunnilingus, fingering, clit play, facial, cumsluts, virginity taken, missionary, sweat, stocking kink, riding, rimming, stand and carry, cum drinking, lots of perverted thoughts, lucky!you

TW: I barely finished this in time, so the editing is not that in depth lol

Inspiration: Minju and Sullyoon just go together very well, dunno if @sinswithpleasure was the first to give this idea, but the pairing definitely comes from The Bunker... the rest is my own craziness

(A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY FAVORITE GIRL! Happy Minju day to everyone, I hope you enjoy this fic which was supposed to be like around 4-5k...)

“No, you gotta put it in here, not in there!”

“I-I can’t, my hand is too big for the hole.”

“Then try using your fingers, that should work.”

“Eh, okay, but you need to hold onto the legs, otherwise it’ll fall over.”

“Let me get in between the—ah, Minju, watch out! Now my hand is all white.”

“Oops, Sorry.”

The struggle behind you is real, the struggle in front of you—the unfinished essay due tomorrow that is—is real too, but those spoken words cannot be real. You know exactly what Minju and Sullyoon are referring to when talking about white stuff and holes and size. After all, they are working hard to wrap up the project all of you have procrastinated on for so long and it’s bound to be a mess.

You start to trip over your own unspoken words. The lewdness in your mind is unfathomable, a mess can be a mess without mess being the wild, chaotic, imaginary sex that seems to creep into your brain more and more.

No, focus. It’s just a mess because Sullyoon and Minju still don’t know how to put together the human-sized post-modern sculpture of a robot made from cardboard, newspapers and glue—white glue, that drips from Sullyoon’s hand as she tries to shove a painted cardboard cylinder into—

You did it again. Your thoughts are betraying you.

“What are you looking at?” Sullyoon nags, when she spots your dreamy gaze on her hand. Wait, are you drooling? What the fuck is happening?

“N-nothing, nothing,” you quickly turn around and look at the pathetic pile of words that neither make sense nor reach the required minimum amount to pass. “It’s just that—you two are too loud, I can’t concentrate.”

Minju throws you a concerned look, while Sullyoon aggressively wipes her hands on a paper towel and hits you over the head with a piece of cardboard. Now there’s some stickiness in your hair

“Oh yeah? You’re still the furthest behind—I’ll do the writing, I can’t build for shit—that’s what you said and you are still not finished.”

“Sully, please, don’t scream,” Minju groans and gets on her knees in between the sculptures legs, her head on level with what could be its crotch. “Let’s just focus, okay? Can you give me the, uhm, white stuff? I need to fix the butt.”

And now Minju is spreading glue all over the—it’s better you look away and focus on the task ahead. The essay should go over all the different periods of, uhm. Or maybe the various stages during, some-thing? Perhaps the teacher wants a concise summary of how you came up with the idea and created the illusion of Sullyoon sticking her fingers in Minju’s pussy and making her face contort into—

“You’re drooling!” Sullyoon shouts and hits you again.

“Sully, please!” Minju tries to calm the situation down.

“What? Can I not be angry that this lazy ass is just daydreaming—”

“Sully, language! And stop screaming!”

“You’re both screaming and shouting, how should I concentrate?”

“You—”

Sullyoon is about to throw hands. Though they both might give off a similar reserved, kind, beauty vibe to the unsuspecting outsider, Sullyoon and Minju are quite different. It shows now more than ever, when Sullyoon slams her fist on the desk next to you and stares you down into the chair, while Minju sits on her bed, one leg crossed over the other, head lowered in defeat and annoyance.

“Stand up,” Sullyoon orders, her grip on your biceps harsh, as if she tried to scar you with her nails. “I’ll do it, save the project while you can fuck off.”

“The fuck?” you shout back, face angry. Sullyoon’s hand is slapped away and you’re about to fight more if she doesn’t back off. “You won’t do anything, and don’t curse at me. Who do you think you are?”

“Guys—”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable!” Sullyoon interrupts Minju and opens her adorable eyes wide in rage. “You’re gonna fail us with that—pathetic excuse of a text.”

“It would be better if you could keep your mouth shut, Sullyoon, and let me finish this in peace. Also, the robot is still not upright. If he falls over, Miss Kwon will rip our heads off.” You can barely hold yourself together. The only positive thoughts for Sullyoon, if you can call them that, are the lewd ones, those imagining her naked, her navel exposed, her pussy bare.

“Guys, I—!”

“Oh and that’s my fault? I bet your drool will make it unstable. I swear if you turn around one more time—”

“Then what? You’ll beat me, assault me? I think Miss Kwon won’t give you a better grade then—”

An ear-shattering boom. The door is shut, the door to Minju’s room—Minju, who is not with you anymore. For such a kind and bubbly girl, this fight must have killed her. She was the one suggesting that you all do the project at her place, with her parents out of town. She made cookies beforehand and had something planned for dinner too.

“I-I think we overdid it,” Sullyoon sums it up with an usually soft whisper and you nod in shame. Minju has been nothing short of an excellent host for the two of you.

Suddenly, Sullyoon’s phone rings. She doesn’t get time to answer it however, as the caller seems to end the call within a moment's notice.

“I’ll be out, gimme a second,” Sullyoon says and runs to the door.

“Sure.” She didn’t even hear that, that’s how quiet your voice was. Outside, you hear Sullyoon hurrying down the stairs. There is turmoil in your head about what you ought to do. Should you just sit here and wait for them to come back? Is it better if you go downstairs as well, apologize to Minju, so the three of you can continue with the project? Should you continue alone, perhaps?

You decide on option four: sneak towards the door, carefully open it and then lay low while trying to pick up what they are talking about. They surely aren’t fighting anymore, but their voices are loud enough for you to clearly hear every word.

“It was stupid of me, okay? Can we go back upstairs and finish our sculpture?” Sullyoon asks with loving care.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” Minju sniffles. “This was embarrassing.”

“What do you mean? You weren’t embarrassing, we were. This fight was—”

“No, you don’t get it, Sully!”

Now things seem to get heated. You can hear Minju jumping up from a chair, while Sullyoon gasps.

“Then explain it to me, Minju!”

“Okay, screw it.

“I like him, okay? Two years, I have waited two years for us to finally be in a project—and now you two are fighting! You are ruining my chances with him!”

The silence is deafening. If you weren’t lying prone on the floor already, your knees would have collapsed and you would’ve landed in the same spot anyways. What a revelation! For the first time in your life, you believe that either your ears are deceiving you or that you’re in the most lucid dream imaginable. Never before has a girl had feelings for you—

“This can’t be real,” Sullyoon suddenly laughs out loud. “You like this guy?”

“Wha-what do you mean?” Minju hisses back, whiny, like she’s about to cry. “He is very-very handsome a-and I’ve seen his abs. He is also smart, have you heard him talk about history? It’s so attractive.”

“Yeah, of course I have, he is like talking non-stop in history class.” Sullyoon’s tone has shifted from shocked and dismissive to a bit dreamy, almost like she is admiring you. “And the way he pronounces all these foreign words, or how he gives it his all in PE—”

“Wait a minute,” Minju interjects and you can hear the grin as it forms on her face. “You like him too, Sully!”

“Not anymore, not after his lazy ass didn’t do a damn thing during our project.” Another second of silence, then both of them start laughing hysterically, one is stomping on the floor, the other tries to cover her mouth to muffle the loudness.

You’ve heard enough. No, seriously. At this point, you could die happily. Two of the prettiest girls in the entire school like you and both of them are in your project group which will surely last until the next morning at your current pace. What else could you want more? Countless guys would kill to have such an opportunity.

But you want more.

“Crazy, we have the same crush. Oh, have you seen the pictures of his abs?” Minju asks excitedly after the two have finished their laughing fit.

“No, but I was about to ask: how did you get those?” Sullyoon gasps again and then giggles while both start to whisper. The whispers are too quiet, you can barely pick up any syllables. This marks the perfect moment to get back in front of the PC so they won’t catch you eavesdropping when they come back up. It also gives you time to think about what you want to do.

The image of them and their crush on you hasn’t fully settled yet, however, you’re already planning how this night might continue, what might happen, what you should say. Unlike during exams, you don’t feel pressure or tension that’s about to crush you—there is just excitement and a feeling of being loved.

“Hey, we-we are back,” Minju says a few minutes later, her face all red when she enters her room. Sullyoon follows after her, her hair a bit messier than before. Unlike Minju, she is able to hide her feelings for you quite well, now that you know.

“Hey,” you respond with a soft voice. “Look, Minju, I’m so sorry about earlier. I should’ve done my job. I won’t let you guys down this time, I promise. Sullyoon, if you want to, you can write the text. Sorry that I was so rude earlier.”

“I-it’s fine.” Both their voices seem to break when you stand up and give each an apologetic bow. With your new knowledge, you assume that this is a good sign, like selecting the correct dialogue option in a video game.

“Are you sure you want to switch, though?” Sullyoon asks and you nod.

“It’s settled then.” Minju grabs a wrist from you and a wrist from Sullyoon and has this adorable, bright smile on her beaming face. “Let’s not fight anymore and finish this dang project!”

“You are absolutely right, Minju!” you gleefully say. “You two are pretty awesome, so I’ll give it my all.”

Both their breaths pick up in pace; who would have thought that you could make the hearts of girls flutter with just a bright, sunshine smile. Sullyoon and Minju quickly dive back into work, ears still red, and you pretend to be completely unaware. Unaware of their feelings, unaware of their hopes, unaware of their—potentially sullied thoughts.

But could those two angelic looking girls really have the same impurities in their minds as you do? Can it match your fantasies of one of them admitting their love to you tonight, you kissing, cuddling and fucking secretly in the bathroom, while the other continues to work on the project? Maybe they have similar thought, but did they ever consider—

“Can you, uhm, hand me the, eh—” Minju stutters and taps her temple in thought. She looks adorable doing so.

“Do you need the model? Some cardboard? Scissors?” you ask back but Minju shakes her head, a bit abashed that she lacks the focus to say which item she needs. Thinking of scissors, your fantasy does not stop at some one-on–one lovemaking. You’d want the other to join, all three of your tongues in a make out session while your hand is in the back of their panties. You want to fondle their butts and hear them moan before they would scissor, their wet pussies rubbing up and down your manhood until you explode.

“I need the… white stuff.”

“You need the white stuff—from me?”

A quiet whisper, Sullyoon could not have picked it up. Minju halts for a second, then her face turns beet red and she hides it behind her palms, while her eyes keep looking at your awfully-well played innocent expression. Worriedly, you reach for her face and Minju gasps. What does she expect? Certainly not what follows.

“Oh, there is some glue in your hair, Minju. Guess we should wash out the white stuff~”

With that said, you grab her hand and pull her out of her bedroom. To the surprise of Sullyoon, whose questions go unheard, you and Minju enter the upper floor bathroom. There you immediately find a wet towel and start to rub Minju’s hair, and with every second that you dishevel her hair, you also seem to dishevel her mind.

Minju is perplexed, trembling, unable to react to you, especially when you inch closer and really focus on that annoying spot. The two of you forgot to turn on the bathroom lights, so there is only the dim moonlight to reveal to you the absolute dream that are Minju’s eyes: full of love, uncertainty and want.

“I think I got it out,” you finally whisper and drop the towel. “Sorry for messing up your hair.”

Minju smiles softly: “N-no, thank you. You might have saved it, a-actually.”

“Minju—” A moment of silence, full of purpose, of tension, but you bask in it. You can hear Minju’s heart racing and if you’re honest, the muscle in your chest is pumping like crazy as well. “You, you are very beautiful, one of the prettiest girls on this planet.”

“Re-really!?”

“Yes. I wish I could

“Kiss your lips; they look so soft.”

They are so soft, no doubt about it, especially when they accept you so willingly at first and then won’t let go when you try to pull back a little. Minju is on cloud nine and she wants to stay. Her adorable hands hold onto your sleeves, while you hold the back of her head securely in the palm of your hand. There is no tongue movement, there is no tongue movement needed, because it all comes together for her—

A fairy tale moment, out of nowhere, for the girl with her crush.

But your play isn’t over. After a short while, you regretfully remove yourself from her lips and continue to hold her close, hand on the small of her back. When you look down you are greeted by a look—this look of mesmerized love, with teary eyes of joy and panting lips of desire on Minju’s flawless features. How could you want more?

This is how mankind moves forward: by wanting what they don’t yet have.

“Minju,” you take a deep breath and close your eyes. “I—before we continue, and I really do want to—I have to tell you something.”

“Y-yes?”

“I like you, I really, really like you.

“But you know how multiple people can have the same crush? I, my heart, has this issue that—I, I like multiple people! I can never escape it, there is nothing I can do. That doesn’t mean that my love isn’t real—I just want to be honest with you.”

Minju, in the midst of all these surprises and twists and turns for her, looks surprisingly calm and nods carelessly. Of course she is a bit dazed, after all, your lips were just on hers and she can take them back just by getting on her toes, but this should still be a bit weird for her. At least, that is what you assumed.

“I-I don’t care,” she suddenly blurts out and her arms wrap around you tightly. “Why should I judge you? There are probably so many pretty girls out there. I-I’m just happy that you… noticed me.”

“Are you for real?” In a sudden surge of happiness, you lift Minju up and spin her around. “You are so wonderful, I know why I fell in love with you.”

This should wrap up your Oscar performance—well, it’s already beyond that. At this point the feelings for Minju feel more than just acted. How could they not? She is gorgeous, light, her lips are tender, her character adorable and you cannot escape what your heart is telling you: love her, because she loves you.

There is however still—

“Pl-please! Please love me too!”

A loud scream, and Sullyoon bursts into the room. You may not be able to see the correct colors of her face, but you know she is either pale because Minju ‘stole’ you from her or she is red all over because she thinks there is a chance, a tiny chance that you also like her. Nonetheless, all these thoughts become irrelevant, because Minju almost collapses from shock. You catch her before she is able to hit her head on the sink.

The bathroom door still rattles, but the three of you just stare at one another, eyes wide open. The situation is so absurd, you must be dreaming, dead or in heaven—all at the same time, Minju’s entire existence is in your arms and Sullyoon seems willing to join her. She is close, her hands folded as if she is begging for your love. Her breath is hot, right in your face and so unsteady.

“Sullyoon.” Minju’s voice is faint, not even a whisper, but it’s loud. It’s both a statement and a question, a question directed at you. Is this what you were talking about earlier? Could it really be that the two who have a crush on you, would not have to fight? To put it very simply: Do you love Sullyoon too?

At least tonight, you do.

“I—

“I do, actually.” Those few words have you out of breath, before you can continue, Sullyoon has taken a spot in your arms next to Minju. The speed with which your dreams come true is mind boggling, but you play it cool and hold both of them close, an arm around each of their waists.

“You mean it?” Sullyoon has never sounded this cute, not in class, not during breaks and definitely not tonight. Who can resist her with those pouty lips that adorn silky smooth, perfectly symmetrical features? “You really like me?”

“Yes, I do, I like you both. This, this has to be a dream.”

“What, uhm,” Minju stutters and looks at you, similar expression to Sullyoon, her eyes also beaming, her chin tilted towards you—their similarities become uncanny in this dimly lit bathroom. “What are we going to do now?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper and smile.

“We still have a project to finish,” Sullyoon sighs and puts her head against your chest, which does not make for a good pillow with its constant up and down movement and Minju right next to her.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I think we should finish it. Let’s focus and then maybe our thoughts are a bit more… sorted.” Both girls nod, but it takes some more convincing before they let you go. The fear that they could lose you to the other makes them stay a bit longer until you have to push through them. It’s a playful struggle, which is only resolved when the three of you go back to Minju’s room.

All is quiet for a good, productive thirty minutes. The cardboard sculpture is finally painted and read to dry, the text only needs a few more tweaks, the project is in its final stage. All you can think about, however, are your groupmates, especially when your sight drifts away from the task ahead to their faces, their hands, their hips.

“Minju, can you help me?” Sullyoon groans. “I need to finish, this bottom part is so hard!”

“Of course, let me just—put this here and this into that—do you think it fits now?”

“It still looks too big, don’t you think? Maybe we should stretch it—”

“Or we could share it? I think if we both do it, it will be better.”

Hit yourself on your forehead, because the brain behind it once again can only think of the lewd. Minju and Sullyoon are trying their best to format this text and split it into fair portions for the presentation—yet all you think about is how they admire your big cock, share it in between their parted lips and then, Minju helps Sullyoon to go down on it with her throat.

After you are all covered in her spit, Sullyoon would grab your base and put it on Minju’s folds, ease you into her and all kinds of moans would fill the room and alert all neighbors who are still awake.

“I think this is good,” Minju ultimately concludes and turns to you. “Do you want to take a look too?”

You shake your head. “Uhm, no, I’m sure it’s excellent. Wow, looks like we really finished it.”

“Okay, so.” Sullyoon spins around in her chair, hands hidden in between her thighs and everything vibrates. “Are we going to talk now about… our situation?”

“I think we are all adults, we can talk about it.” Minju fidgets a bit and looks at you. They are both waiting for you to say something, but you just smirk without a worry in the world and lay down on Minju’s bed.

“Sure, we can talk. Let’s be honest, be free. Don’t care what the rest things, just

“Tell me what you feel.”

Sullyoon pushes the chair closer to you with her feet and Minju sits down on her bed, less bold than Sullyoon, because her eyes are fixed on the other end of the mattress. You get her attention when you fingers lock with hers, but the first to speak up is Sullyoon.

“I think I have a crush on you. Two years ago it started and I can’t explain why, but—you grew very handsome during that time a-and you’re pretty smart, so—”

“I feel the same!” Minju suddenly shouts and her fingers squeeze yours tightly. “And sorry, I-I once took a picture of your, uhm, abs when you changed your shirt. It was stupid, I’ll delete it right now—”

You laugh and pull Minju on top of you. Now her gaze cannot escape yours anymore and she has to see the true awe in your eyes. A natural awe for her beauty, her kindness and the way her honesty reveals all those secret feelings.

“Delete them if you like,” you hum and place the palm of Minju’s hand on your abdomen while flexing your muscles. “But you can take some more high quality pictures, if you want to.”

Jealousy overtakes a formerly hesitant Sullyoon and she pounces onto the bed next to you. Her hands are still hidden in between her thighs, but you can see that she wants to touch what Minju is already groping.

Sullyoon doesn’t even have to ask. You grab her wrist and slowly guide it under your sweatshirt. Though she tries to act shocked and abashed, you can feel her digits roaming all over your abs greedily as she visibly drools. Minju had most of your attention until now. Now it’s Sullyoon’s turn to feel your love in the form of a wet kiss pressed right onto her already wet lips. Unlike Minju, she tries to go all in on the first go, but you quickly pull away with a chuckle and watch her eager tongue searching for your mouth.

“Sully, open your eyes,” you softly laugh at her and drag a finger over her flushed, tender cheek as she does so. “Don’t be scared, I’m not going anywhere. If you are okay with it, I can love you both with all my heart.”

“I want to share you,” she says with determination and immediately contradicts her statement by lunging at you and starting a torrential kiss that has Minju hiding her face behind her long, cascading hair. It’s all faux, because in the meantime, she has rolled up your sweatshirt to your chest. Gently she pokes your pecs and you giggle into the kiss with Sullyoon.

“Good to know we are all on the same page,” you finally voice your own feelings when Sullyoon backs off to catch her breath. “I think I could cuddle you both for the rest of the night and forget every worry, every task, every stupid responsibility ahead of us.”

Funny how your dreams come true, again. An arm around each of their waists, you pull Minju and Sullyoon deeper into the softness of pillows and blankets generously spread on Minju’s mattress. Both your cheeks are quickly peppered with kisses, cute, hesitant ones from Minju, from chin to ear and wild, playful ones from Sullyoon, from the edge of your collarbone to your lips. She seals them again and this time you can hear Minju become jealous with a loud huff.

This back and forth of envy, you see no way to disrupt it anytime soon. Come to think of it, maybe you don’t want to. This dynamic pushes them further to reveal more of their love, so give them what they want. You are theirs to love and play with—but you will play with them too.

“Minju,” you say, your voice purposefully low and more serious than before. “You have such amazing hips. They are wide and look so perfect on you.”

You turn towards her and reach for the top of her skirt. Insert a couple fingers into it and let them glide along the waistband until you reach the outermost point of her hips. Minju tenses up when you begin to grab her hips, the skin of your palms right on her underwear, slipped into her skirt. You pull her even closer and she is back to holding onto your sleeves.

“Such nice hips.” Rub them, and Minju starts to rub herself on you, face on your bare chest and crotch on your thigh. Speaking of thighs, Sullyoon might have felt neglected for a second, so you find her mouth with ease and bully her tongue with yours while putting a hand on her inner thigh. Sullyoon shrieks the more you touch her jeans-clad legs, no matter if you go down to where her calves begin or if you go up to where her pussy is aching.

“Wow, Sully, your legs, your thighs are fantastic. I bet they are very soft.”

“T-touch them more, please,” Sullyoon softly whimpers and you nod. Minju is too enamored with her own thighs around yours, she does not realize her friend popping open her jeans and sliding them down. Your hesitation, your careful planning gets thrown out of the window when you slide your hand over her soft skin and go to bite her lips.

“They are the softest, damn, I could knead them all day long.” Your hot breath mixes with Sullyoon when you go from some basic thigh stimulation to cupping her sex and pressing your palm on her covered clit. “Your panties are cute too~”

No time to focus on Sullyoon’s embarrassed face, because Minju’s takes your entire view. You try to kiss her mouth but she backs off, even climbs off the bed and stands next to it. Both her hands firmly grasps the hem of her skirt, her knuckles turn white—that’s how hard she grabs it while her voice sounds absolutely love drunk:

“I-I have cute panties too,” she complains and lifts her skirt up, higher than you thought she would dare to. Not only you, her crush, that can see this most private part, but her friend can as well. Your eyes are glued to the small, pink garment with its tiny wet spot at the front, very cute indeed, maybe even cuter than Sullyoon’s baby blue panties which at this point become ruined on your hand.

“They are really cute, Minju.” You smile, she cracks a small smile. “I did not know you two had such lewd minds and wild fantasies.”

“Can we see y-your underwear now?” Sullyoon avoids your statement with a pout while simultaneously confirming it. Minju joins her nods, skirt still held high, her panties just a bit wetter at the thought of you. “Yes, please, we-we want to see it, it’s only fair!”

“Hm, how about a deal then, my two lewd girlfriends: I’m all yours, you can undress me and play with me until you are satisfied, but first you give me a show. I want you two undressing each other slowly. Sounds like a deal?”

At this point, everything is so out of control, you might as well ask for a favor that usually would get you kicked out. After all, this isn’t porn, not every girl is into girls and into threesomes, but Minju and Sullyoon have shown to be so needy for you, their libido will take over all reasoning. To no surprise, both only hesitate for a second.

“I’m okay with that,” Sullyoon whispers. “You too, Minju?” She leaves the spot in your arm and walks behind her friend. “Are you okay with me touching you?”

“S-sure.” They both get into it quickly. Minju drops her arms and lets them dangle while her needy face is directed at you. Sullyoon makes sure you can see her fingers play with the waistband of Minju’s skirt, just like you did, and she teases you by only pulling down one side, then the other. It’s only when you groan in disapproval that she moves upwards and pulls Minju’s sweatshirt over her head.

You totally expected a bra behind this comfy, cotton barrier, but no: Minju is wearing a white shirt underneath and the tease just continues. Sullyoon finds the lowest button first and works her way up, sending chills down Minju’s spine.

An amazing midriff, toned abs around a cute little navel; you can’t help but ogle when Sullyoon presses her fingers into them and gasps in surprise. No words need to be spoken—that’s probably how Minju likes it more as well. She struggles to relax, especially when the final button pops and her shirt opens like curtains to reveal her bra, the same color as her panties, erect nipples visible through the thin garment.

“May I?” Sullyoon asks, basically blowing the question into Minju’s ear as her hands already fiddle with the clasp of the bra. The sound of silence is nothing but hot breaths and the faint creaking of Minju’s bed as you adjust yourself to get closer with her still-covered breasts.

Still covered.

“O-okay,” Minju whispers, whines, it doesn’t matter, you finally get to see her upper body in all its glory, and you find glory to be an understatement: her breasts are perfectly symmetrical, not saggy but quite perky and a bit smaller than your hands. You could cover them up and knead them without much effort; it takes effort however to not look absolutely overwhelmed as your dreamy eyes focus on erect nipples and round arolae.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon asks the question with an answer that is obvious but hard to put into words.

“Minju, your body looks…

“... very, very hot. I-I’ve never seen something so flawless.”

“And you haven’t even seen what’s behind this~” Sullyoon’s voice is sultry as she taps Minju’s skirt. She once again teases you, her smooth hand under the skirt and once you hear Minju shriek, you know what she is about to do.

Sullyoon removes those stained panties, while Minju still wears her skirt. The miniscule petite underwear wraps around her ankles while her dainty digits wrap around the hem of her skirt. At this point, your drool cannot be held back. You need to see her most private place.

“Let, let me do it!” Minju says with confidence and as if she’s as impatient as you are, pulls the skirt up and shuts her eyes. Sullyoon chuckles lightly and gets a hold of Minju’s hips, while you are about to dive into those wet folds, small and pink and definitely untouched. You notice a small strip of hair above her clit which looks like it should twitch at any moment. Minju’s visible arousal becomes your visible arousal and before you can end the teasing session and start a new session, Sullyoon interrupts you:

“Shouldn’t Minju undress me now?”

“Wha—oh… yeah, sure,” you respond and hold your horny horses. Minju looks a bit dazed when she drops the skirt and opens her eyes again. You help her gain focus by reaching for her hands and holding them. “Nothing to be ashamed of, Minju, you are perfect down there as well.”

“Re-really?”

“Yes, I’d never lie to the girls I love.

“Now, why don’t you help Sullyoon get out of those… tight jeans?”

Sullyoon smirks. Without you noticing it, she pulled her pants back up and made sure that they showed the outline of her shapely butt. She is a tease like no one before or after; fortunately, Minju seems to not get what teasing is about: with you still right beside her, she puts all her strength at pulling the denim down—the denim and Sullyoon’s panties.

“Eh, what are you—Minju!” Sullyoon complains loudly.

“So-sorry, did I do it wrong?”

“You, you were too fast!” The shyness returns to Sullyoon’s face as she buries it in the crook of her arm.

“No reason to fight,” you ease the flames of conflict burning before you. “I think Minju did a great job and your butt is great, Sullyoon.”

“No, don’t say that, it’s too big!”

“I’m gonna say it again.” You emphasize your words with a good squeeze on both her cheeks while Minju’s wide eyes are on the dumpy before her. “You have a fantastic butt, not too big, definitely not too small, perfect.”

Your kneading hands leave Sullyoon a mewling mess, speechless, even as Minju goes and undresses her further. It’s all a lot quicker, the top is removed easily, the bra falls with a simple click and Sullyoon is the first to be fully nude. She stops your continued handsy attacks on her ass with a spin around. Unlike Minju, her pussy is freshly shaven and her entire body looks like it was made just for this moment.

“Someone is prepared,” you say with a smile and drag a finger up her midriff to her tits which are nice handfuls of their own, similar in size and shape to Minju’s.

“You are mean,” Sullyoon pouts and suddenly starts to embrace you. You gasp. Her body is almost scorching hot. “I waited so long for this.”

“I bet you couldn’t look better. No dream, no imagination can make your body look any sexier.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like it.”

The sound of someone crawling onto the bed gets your attention. Minju lays next to you, her skirt finally kicked away and she stretches her arms forward in search of your embrace. That poor girl is desperate, however, you don't make it to her before Sullyoon unzips your pants.

“It’s only fair if we get to see you too, right, Minju?” Sullyoon asks, her tone making it clear that the answer cannot differ from her needs.

“Should I strip for you too?” you say with a witty smile, but Minju comes to Sullyoon’s aid.

“Enough teases, I—I can barely think!”

The striptease must have set something in motion within Minju: her shyness is only apparent on her fully red cheeks, her hands have already taken a different path. Boldly, they yank down both your pants and briefs in strong pulls, past your erection, which comes back swinging at her. Minju dodges it, because she can’t stop looking at Sullyoon behind you, arms resting on your shoulder, lips suckling at your neck.

“So big!” Minju can’t hold back her shock and awe at the shape, the bend, the size.

“Yeah,” Sullyoon dreamily adds. “We really have to share him from now on.”

Things are out of control. Every further plan of slowly getting to your dream threesome scenario are useless, laughable, when both your new lovers shove you down into the mattress and somehow find space on and in between your legs to intently stare at and past your phallus. Minju and Sullyoon are often not on the same page, sometimes polar opposites in class, but tonight they are more than united.

While Minju is in awe at how you throb and seemingly still grow into the air, Sullyoon eagerly spits into her hand and slowly spreads her saliva on your shaft. The thoughtfulness, carefulness and softness of her fingers make every pump of hers fade into absurdity. Right from the get go, Sullyoon’s handjob is already on the level of jerking yourself off.

“Have you ever done this, Minju?”

“N-no, never. Not even close.”

“I—only have with not real dicks.” The two blush, but there is no need to intervene. Unlike in most classes, they are eager to study for themselves, learn new tricks and test them on you.

“How about you start down at his… sac, while I go from the top?” Sullyoon suggests and Minju nods. However, you still see hesitance in her eyes, probably because she is afraid of screwing things up or making it awkward.

“They are full for you, Minju,” you softly coo and brush her hair as she almost puts her lips on them. Okay, maybe she needs the tiniest of pushing to finally— “Put your lips on them, give them a kiss. Nothing to be afraid of.”

Sullyoon is definitely not afraid. She wraps her mouth around your cockhead and begins to twirl her tongue around it. The taste of your precum must have urged her on, because she hums happily and sucks loudly. It’s like your cock is the straw in her favorite drink, that's how aggressively she sucks and her eyes roll into the back of her head. Meanwhile Minju sneakily tries to find the best spot to wrap her lips around your crown jewels, her adorable expression unpurified when she decides to go for it.

“Oh fuck!” you groan and your body arches involuntarily. More of your manhood is pressed onto their faces, into their eagerly drooling holes; it makes you wonder if you even need their pussies if this already feels so heavenly. The eagerness and playfulness of Sullyoon paired with the gentleness and sweetness of Minju makes for a double blowjob that could drain you embarrassingly fast.

Something inside your stomach tells you to just release it. Let them suck, let them play, until you just release it all over them without worry in deep bliss. Before that happens, you have to get back at them. It would be quite the disappointing night if this was your only load and they wouldn’t have any stimulation until then. You have to come up with a plan, while Sullyoon pops you from her mouth with a deep moan.

“Minju, let’s switch,” she suggests. “He tastes really good, you have to try it. Don’t worry about the size, I couldn’t take it either.”

“Oh, okay, his, his balls are quite hard. Does this mean they are full?”

“Fuck, yes,” you interrupt their horny conversation, ready to announce your plan. A plan that will surely distract you and them to the point all of you will have the best of fun. “After you’ve switched, how about you turn your butts towards me? You’re doing a fantastic job, I want to return the favor.”

They lock eyes, then look at you and nod. Sullyoon has this grin on her lips, as if she can’t wait for your fingers and tongue on her labia. Minju, again, might look quite abashed, but she is quicker than Sullyoon when it comes to showing you her behind. The sight of her bare ass, tiny pink pussy and thighs spilling out of black stockings has you drooling, almost neglecting Sullyoon’s equally remarkable offer.

Sadly, you only have one tongue and so you dive into Minju’s cunt first. In what has to be the most mind-melting moment in her life, the beautiful girl sucks in your addictive taste while for the first time, someone touches her virgin sex. Minju moans around your length while you lick all the way from her clit to her asshole in long quick swipes. You watch her body tremble and decide to put an arm around it so she doesn’t sway away from your mouth, which digs into her sensitive folds.

Speaking of sensitive folds, your other hand has found more of those. Sullyoon’s innie, beautifully smooth, spills wetness forth and guides you to the well-lubricated entrance. You don’t even have to see anything to slip your middle finger inside her. Sullyoon gasps and nuzzles her soft cheek against your balls, while a little bit higher, Minju has lost all shame.

“Yummy, yummy,” she babbles every half second when your cock leaves her mouth. The two of you seem to share the same thought: These perverted fluids are delicious, I better get as much as I can.

In your mutual delight, Sullyoon momentarily rips you out of it, just to make things even better. She bunches up Minju’s hair in a hand and starts to put her lips on Minju’s. Their tongues battle, luckily your tip is there to separate them, though it does not want peace: it wants all out war.

For this brilliant idea, you decide to switch and bury your face in Sullyoon’s ass then quickly move to her cunt and pierce it open with your wet muscle, the same muscle Minju’s twitching hole misses. She has to finish on your hand, so you decide to twirl her exposed clit in between your fingers.

The greatest trio in the world's most renowned orchestra could not compare to the harmonies your different moans produce. They are unfiltered, not played for a camera, not exaggerated—but still so loud, booming, climactic, when Sullyoon shutters. Her juices gush into your mouth, more when she leans back and presses her pussy on your face.

Minju follows quickly, almost sitting on and riding your hand as it lays there, fingers tapping upwards, against her nub. Her orgasm is not as wet, but you feel the bed shake when she cums and seemingly goes to another reality. You’re glad she physically stays, her tongue still eager at your slit—and Sullyoon is on the other side, making out with her and your cockhead.

You're incredibly hard, an iron-like rod, a tip that is purple and sensitive yet absolutely numb and only begging for what might as well be the best and final release. The thought of this ever happening again does not cross your mind, a void of nothing but pleasure. You have to give it your all now and so you buckle upwards in between their sandwiching lips and explode without warning.

“Fuuuck,” Sullyoon groans. Minju yelps, a high pitch as she still rides out her own orgasm on your palm. Your first is bombastic, a shot up in the air that rains down on their faces while the rest is equally distributed on their tender cheeks, silky lips, hot tongues. No need to mention that a lot ends up in places where the clean up will be more annoying: hair, bedsheets, even clothes have stains of white on them.

Who cares, really? Not Minju, who still laps up what leaks out of your aching, overstimulated cock. Not Sullyoon, who is out of breath and uses your thigh as a pillow. Certainly not you who literally passed out for a second and only returns because Minju sucks too strongly.

“Ouch, fuck, Min-Minju it hurts—”

“You tasht sho good, I want more.”

“Then, ahhh, get it from Sullyoon’s face, I-I don’t have anything anymore.”

Minju listens and obidies, unable to remember her shy nature when she sucks on Sullyoon’s skin to get all of your spunk off of her. Sullyoon is unfazed, mewling a bit before finding your gaze. She smirks and suddenly, the tip of her index finger touches your balls.

“You're lying,” she whispers. “You have at least one more in you.”

“I-I don’t think so.” Shake your head to emphasize your words, but Sullyoon emphasizes her belief more thoroughly by pumping from your base up. Slow strokes to keep the pressure in it, she makes sure to keep her mouth a literal breath away, a hot breath that takes your breath away. Your eyelids shutter.

“Are you sure he can keep going?” Minju cutely asks, the final remnants of cum she collected from Sullyoon’s forehead on her finger which she promptly puts in her mouth and cleans thoroughly. “I could really go for another.”

“Don’t you want him to take your virginity?” Sullyoon’s question somehow has the blush return to Minju’s ears, she turns around abashed. It’s unbelievable: a second ago, she was the biggest cumslut, now she is afraid of what feels like a logical next step if it weren’t for…

“We can’t, Sully,” you say and reach for both their heads and pat them. “Not going to do it if we don’t have condoms, and maybe we should take some time? This is all a bit—”

“Crazy?” Sullyoon climbs off the bed and searches through her backpack, to the confusion of both you and Minju. It takes her a while to find what she is looking for, so you enjoy seeing her ass in the squatting position. “Is it crazy that I have these?”

She throws you a pack of condoms. You blink.

“Is it crazy that I want you to take my virginity tonight?” Sullyoon sneaks back like a predator, adorable looking, dangerously feeling up your thigh to your once again hard length. You don’t let her have her way, grab her wrists and look at Minju.

“You are crazy. Look in whose bed we are! Minju, what do—”

“I-I’m fine with it!” Minju cups her cheeks and her gaze can’t fix on either your or Sullyoon’s face. “I can give you privacy, if you want.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sullyoon laughs. “You should join us. I’d let you go first, if you want.” She licks her lips and even with her arms being held down by you, she gets her flat tummy to rub on your manhood, close to her heat which you can no longer resist.

“I’ll get some water, you… do you.” Minju’s words are hastily spoken, her sentence finished when she is already out of the door. This settles it for you. You’re going to fuck Sullyoon; her first time is yours and the way she rips open the wrapping of the first condom leaves no doubt in your mind:

This girl loves you and wants you now.

“How do you want it?” you ask and roll the thin, barely-there rubber down your cock.

“I want you to push in me, push my body into the bed, slowly at first. Be careful until I tell you to go faster. Fuck me, hug me, do it so good and hard that I forget that there was ever a time where you didn’t love me.”

“Sounds—

Let go of her wrists and Sullyoon lets her amazing body fall into the cushions. Her lewd expression shifts; nervousness, only a little, seriousness, a little more—thrill, endless amounts of thrill. The same counts for you.

“—good. Spread your legs for me, Sullyoon. Breathe and relax.”

Those wonderful legs not only spread for you, they actually wrap around you, their smoothness suddenly suffocating and now it’s you who needs to breathe. Your cock slips into her so easily, your tip parts her, enters and if it weren’t for her wince you would’ve gone hilt deep right away. Sullyoon’s eagerness momentarily comes to a halt as she realizes that you are a bit different from her toys.

“Wow,” she mumbles mindlessly. “You’re so wide and hard and warm—nothing like a… a…”

“Like a dildo?” you tease her and gradually drag your tip along her walls and then out of the blissful heat. Her legs make sure to push you back in and now she is even tighter. Sullyoon wants you to stay, you can’t leave without your permission. “Tell me when it hurts.”

“Actually—”

Her digits find your nape and pull you down to where her lips pucker.

“—I want you to hammer your cock into me now. Mold my pussy in its shape. Hold back only if I say stop.”

“Got it.” Kiss her lips. “I love you, Sully.”

Sometimes, you need to let go and let the reckless abandon of lust take over your body. Your hips become a tool for pleasure, as they gyrate, then move back and forth to bury your length deeper in Sullyoon’s cunt. Then you copy and paste their movements and repeatedly do them with your tongue as well to the point your new girlfriend desperately clings to you. It’s not only the sweat that sticks to you; her entire being keeps you glued down.

You pump, pump, pump into Sullyoon until you notice her eyes rolling back into her head whenever you hit that spot. The sweet spot that will eventually make her cum. Good thing that you already blew a load and that all your sensitivity has subsided—it gives you the power that makes you feel like a superhero, a superhuman. You will not stop at anything, you want to make her cum with just your dick and so you have to fuck harder.

“Oh God, you’re so big, so fucking big and perfect,” Sullyoon moans. As a thank you, you place a hickey somewhere on her neck. In hindsight, a bad idea. All your classmates will see it, unless she wears turtlenecks from now on. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

“Your pussy, Sully, it’s, it’s so tight. You’re choking me.”

“Spread me open more then, fuck, fuck, I want you to make me full.”

Hidden from the world, you place a hand on Sullyoon’s abdomen. Not to touch that tummy that alone can make boys fall instantly, though it feels nice to rub your fingers across it—no, your goal is further down, right above where your cock pounds into that wet cunt. Talk about wet, Sullyoon’s juices have spread everywhere, Minju will smell her friend in this room for days to come.

And talk about Minju: she has just returned, a huge bottle of water in her hand and eyes wide open. There is no shock at the sight of Sullyoon moaning and bending under the never ending attack of your hands, tongue and of course cock. Minju is more fascinated than anything else, you know she could watch for hours if only you didn’t notice her.

“Oh, hey,” you gasp in between groans, but your greeting is cut short by Sullyoon’s deafening scream.

“Minju, Minju, oh fuck, you have to try this. He is so good~

“Yes! My clit, right there! Oh my God, I’m going to cum, you make me c-cum!”

Sullyoon pulsates throughout her pussy, her arms, her fingers. Those pointy nails of hers dig painful bruises in your back while your blurry gaze tries to make out her face in haze, but all you see is the shape of her mouth being agape. She’s suddenly so quiet, except for her pussy, which tries to start your own orgasm. You won’t give it to her, not when Minju stands there, her stocking-clad thighs rubbing together, visibly stained with her nectar.

“You guys…” she whispers and watches closely as you pull out of Sullyoon and wipe away some beads of sweat that have formed on your temple. You’re not a construction worker, but your work was hard and it paid off: Sullyoon could not be closer to heaven above the clouds, no skyscraper or airplane can take her there.

“Can I have some of that?” you weakly ask and point at the water bottle. You’re quick to squeeze out a huge portion when Minju hands you the plastic container. From the corner of your eye you see Sullyoon, back from her crazy trip and you offer her some of the water. She rejects and suddenly, full of energy, jumps up and behind Minju.

“Minju, you have to try it.” Minju shrieks when Sullyoon places her hands on the hourglass body. “He feels amazing, I know you will love it.” All her fingers carelessly drift down to where Minju’s full thighs spill out of hr black thigh-highs.

“B-but didn’t he, like, fi-finish in you? He must be exhausted.” Minju’s excuse is met with a scoff from Sullyoon.

“Look at that thing.” Sullyoon points in between your legs. That’s right, you’re still solid and throbbing, aching to go for more. “He is a stud, he can go forever. He will make you cum on your first time, Minju~”

“I-I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to listen to her,” you tell Minju and take another sip from the bottle. “We can do something else if you don’t feel ready yet.”

Your words might be honest, but Minju does not get a fair chance to consider this other option. In front of her sits her crush, a guy with a big, super tasty cock. Behind her is a friend, mind controlled by lust, eager to share this big, super tasty cock. The sight of you teases her, Sullyoon’s hands on her hips, butt, crotch tease her. Can she really go for it now? Make this crazy night become nothing but madness, a story worth telling but no one will ever hear it?

“I want… you inside of me.”

“Perf—”

“I want you to cum inside of me!”

You gulp, thoughts tripping over each other. Even Sullyoon is perplexed and frozen. “R-really?” you both ask the still-virgin girl.

“No, like, in-in a condom of course! I just want to know… that my pussy felt good for you, that I can make you cum. I don’t want to get pregnant yet of course—oh God, did you think that?”

“Well…”

“Doesn’t matter!” Sullyoon suddenly laughs this chaotic misunderstanding off and pushes Minju on your lap. “Here, Minju, put a new condom on his cock. We don’t do creampies, but I totally get what you want.”

“I’m so sorry, that was a stupid thing to say,” Minju apologizes awkwardly, but you quickly forget about it when she expertly puts the rubber on your tip and has your entire phallus covered in no time. Her dainty fingers feel fantastic on your base, which she holds steady, awaiting you to do something with it. You can’t make up your mind however: should you pick her up and throw her into the sheets to fuck her like Sullyoon? Maybe spin her around and fuck her doggy, ass up, that beautiful face buried in pillows as you burry yourself inside her for the first time?

Sullyoon helps you come up with a third solution. She grabs your wrists and firmly puts them on Minju’s tiny waist and instinctively, you lift her up and over your cock. Minju looks down at your manhood and mewls, ready yet not ready to take it. Her starlit eyes, a few centimeters away, look down into yours and you swear you don’t want to hurt. You have to do everything to make this the best thing for her.

Give Minju a firm kiss on her trembling lips as both you and Sullyoon gently place her entrance on your spear. At first, she is scared, her body tensing up, but with your warmth radiating on her warm folds, she suddenly seems eager. More and more inches disappear into her and you leave her lips to hear her ultimate moan when her virginity disappears.

“Ouh, so big, so much, ahhh!”

“Does it hurt?” you ask her.

“A-a bit, but it’s fine—Sullyoon, what are you doing!? Don’t look at it!”

Sullyoon kneels between your legs. When she breathes out through her nose, your balls feel her hot and horny breath. She completely ignores Minju’s words and stares at how you leave and re-enter Minju’s pussy. “Minju, this… this is the best sight! Trust me, it feels good when he goes faster. Your pussy will feel so good.”

“This is embarrassing,” Minju mewls again, her hips firmly pushed down on your lap, almost the entirety of your cock inside her. You might not feel powerless in this position, not at all in fact, but you want this absolute beauty of a woman to do how she likes it. If she just wants to sit on you and slowly move her lower body in circles, that’s fine, if she wants to ride you with heavy thrusts, that would be to die for—

But Minju unexpectedly picks a third option. Seriously, these girls are full of surprises. She puts her hands on your shoulders while yours instinctively hover down to her hips and then she tightens around your cock again before moving up and down, up and down, up and down with perfect body control, at the same pace.

Minju rides you, fucks you, like she has done it a thousand times. You can hardly believe she never had a toy inside her. Every breath becomes more chaotic, her features disheveled, her tongue numb. It hangs out of her mouth, a perfectly ripe weak spot for you to attack. You suck on it, bully it in your mouth and Minju grabs your throat, accidentally choking you. No, no, she has to keep doing that. She has to suffocate you, with her pussy, with her fingers, with her stunning visuals as she fucks herself silly.

“Sullyoon, fuck,” you both simultaneously curse when the forgotten girl starts to lick all the way from your perineum over to your cock and Minju’s folds to Minju’s butthole, then back down, as if it were the longest, tastiest lollipop. She is not irritated by all the sweat, the lewd juices and Minju’s ass bouncing on your dick—Sullyoon laps it all up and even giggles when she hears both of you struggle with the added pleasure.

Minju gradually loses speed, which is of course not bad, after all, her cunt still tries to suck your Sullyoon-kissed balls dry, but you notice how completely out of breath and overstimulated she seems. With unfocused puppy eyes she tries to apologize for her lack of stamina, but instead of lamenting, you find a quick solution—a solution that sends Minju straight into her first ever crazy orgasm.

Hock your arms underneath her legs, securely hold her and stand up. Sullyoon gasps in surprise, her tongue still in Minju’s ass, which suddenly shakes when you start to fuck. Minju screams in bliss, covers your crotch in girl cum as you lose your grip on reality but never your grip on her hips. Minju can barely hold onto your nape as you pound her and send orgasm after orgasm into her.

“Ahhh, oh my God, it’s, it’s coming again!”

She deserves so many more so you steady your feet and thrust upwards harder, faster, gape her cunt wide open, all for Sullyoon to see. She remembers that you speared her open in a similar way, your cock hard and reckless. She starts to touch herself while sucking on whatever part of your base isn’t currently inside Minju. In the meantime, Minju’s stockings burn themselves in your memory. She always has to wear them, they look so hot, seductive, like they were made to cover her legs.

“So big, too much, too much, I—”

Minju explodes again. This time her ability to speak is replaced by mindless moans, which sound a bit silly through her constantly cracking voice. You look down and admire the ripple of her thighs, the way her small tits bounce up and down. Her hot cunt feels ready for a load, a load it will not directly receive unfortunately.

Unfortunately? No, it’s good! You can’t risk getting Minju pregnant, that would be insane.

“Fuck, I’m so close,” you groan.

“Let me help you~” Sullyoon’s lewd voice and even lewder lips push you over the edge as she puts your balls in her mouth and sucks on them loudly. The added pressure makes you unload into the condom, testing its durability. Luckily it passes the test and Minju still gets to have that feeling of hotness inside her.

She smiles weakly, but cannot really react. Her body goes limp in your arms as you slip out of her wide open hole. You carefully drop her onto the bed, a bed that you definitely need too now. Soft sheets to finally rest in after this night of projects and—other projects so to say.

“Fuck that was insane. What’s going to happen now?” you ask no one in particular. Minju is already gone, deep in a dream.

“What do you think?” Sullyoon suddenly says and lays next to you in bed, her fingers pulling away the condom. When she sees the ridiculous amount of cum still covering your dick, she is quick to clean it up with her tongue. It seems that she is just as addicted to your taste as Minju.

“Fuck, Sully—”

“We have to do this every week.”

“Wh-what?”

“Aren’t we your girlfriends now? Don’t you want this—

“To happen again~?”

Yes, they are your girlfriends now—and yes: you have fallen for them.

Who could blame you?

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #male reader #male reader smut #minju smut #sullyoon smut #nmixx smut #happy minju day #kim minju smut

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oikarma · 13 days ago

Text

don't look back in anger

pairing: max verstappen x reader

summary: she knows it's too late as she's walking on by. or: all the times you have talked to max verstappen since that night.

a/n: more angsty than the first part? a lot more written stuff 🤕 sorry if you don't like that kinda thing.

part one / part two / part three

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by f1 and 3,279,148 others

kellypiquet: To us, and to many more years together 🤍

tagged: maxverstappen

view 69,501 comments

user1: oh my god it's happening!!!

user2: about time he put a ring on her finger...they've already had a kid together

user3: eh eh, eh eh, i just want it to be you

user4: can we normalize not bringing up people's exes in the comment sections of their new partners? user5: @/user4 max and yn weren't even exes get your facts right user3: @/user4 what 😭 it's a cute song and they're getting married user6: my chronically online ass cannot comprehend how people like yn's songs but don't know about the lore behind them

yourinstagram: congrats, kelly! * liked by kellypiquet

user7: maybe max is the problem guys. user8: @/user7 like if his situationship and his fiance can get along so well.. user9: i would crash out if my ex best friend slash maybe soulmate commented on my fiance's post and said congrats to HER and not me user10: women supporting women 💪

user11: the ring is so pretttyyy

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

ONE.

The sun has started to dip, gold strokes across the pearly white decor. Around you are guests and heightened murmurs. Of course they're excited: it's Max Verstappen's wedding. A world champion among the greats.

You're still standing there, left by a few guests who wanted to offer their thoughts on your music. Their words were kind and well-meaning, but all they did was remind you of how queer it was. That you were at Max and Kelly's wedding. Sweat beads pile on your forehead, threatening to ruin your makeup; the dress feels heavy, too heavy. It might suffocate you. You straighten your back and take a deep breath. Breathe in, breathe out.

"You came."

Max's voice is low and hesitant, but it easily breaks through your train of thought. His words are just placed out there, like he's not sure if he has a right to say them at all. They sit there in front of you, an ache, a question.

There's a knot in your stomach. This was a bad idea.

"Kelly invited me." Your voice is steady, yet it sounds distant. Like someone else is speaking your lines for you, making things alright. You don't want to be here anymore. Not like this. "What did you expect? That I wouldn't show up?"

Max's hand trembles. He wants to step closer, you think. But he can't. Not like this. Not now.

"I didn't know if...you'd want to see me," he stammers.

You stiffen at his words, remembering the clear boundaries between the two of you. The paparazzi aren't here: it's a private event, at his insistence. But there are others, others who are watching and listening Max Verstappen talk to the girl who wrote an album of songs about the love she could not return him.

A sharp breath escapes your lips. You don't want to deal with this. Not now, when you're both standing on the brink of something final.

"Max, this is Kelly's wedding." Your voice hardens. "Your wedding. She’s about to marry you. So whatever you think this is—whatever it was—it doesn’t matter anymore."

Max looks at you, his jaw tightening. An old habit, you remember, as he chews back the words he can't say aloud. A part of you wants to reach out to touch his face.

It's up to you, as it always has been. He wants to say something, to reach for the words that will make you understand, but he knows it’s too late for that. The realization dawns on his eyes. The past is too tangled, too complicated. And Kelly is waiting for him to be by her side.

"I never meant for things to end like this." His voice cracks slightly, and it’s clear that the weight of your history is crushing him. He takes another step forward, almost against his will. "I asked for too much. I'm sorry I hurt you."

The silence between you two feels thick, stretching longer than it should. Max’s eyes soften at your words, but you can see the hesitation in him, the part of him that wishes he could do more, be more for you. Enough.

And it hurts in a way that you don’t want to admit. Not here, not now.

You should walk away. This conversation isn’t for this moment. But you can’t move. Your feet are cemented to the ground, and Max is standing too close.

"I just... I miss you," he whispers, his voice breaking under the weight of the noose he's never fully escaped.

A shiver runs down your spine at how raw his voice is. Your chest tightens.

There it is. That thing you’d been trying to ignore. You miss him too. In ways that make no sense when you look at him, standing there, about to tie his life to someone else.

You wish things were different. You wish that you could let yourself feel what he’s offering. You’ve wondered, countless times, if you made the wrong choice. If you had let yourself fall, would it have been easier? Or would it have just destroyed you both in the end?

Max shifts his weight, his gaze never leaving yours, and you can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the hope flickering there like it might ignite. It almost makes you want to step forward.

Almost.

But you know better. You can't.

"I..." You swallow, your voice rough. The words scatch in your throat. "I can’t do this, Max. Not now."

His face falls.

You hate that you’re creating this distance, but you have to. It’s the only way to stop both of you from falling back into this mess you've never cleaned up. Writing your songs was supposed to help and it only worsened your what-ifs.

You force yourself to breathe again. "You're about to marry Kelly. You can’t look back at me now, Max."

A long silence hangs between you two. Max opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You know the truth. Sure, you've asked yourself if your intuition was right. But you know. You’ve always known.

You can barely hear him when he lands the last blow. "I never stopped loving you."

It's too real. He's struggling and you can hear it in his voice. This was a bad idea. This is his wedding. You can feel your walls crumbling at his words, the things you’ve buried beneath the surface shaking loose, but you push it all back down. You have to.

"Don't," your voice cracks. You can't hear anything but your own words and your heartbeat. "Please don't."

The two of you stand there. Life keeps moving forward, people laughing, and you think the piano is going to start soon. It's going to mark Kelly's entrance. And Kelly's entrance it is, into Max's life. For good.

For good.

You have to walk away.

And you take that first step back, away from your first friend. The first thing in your life that fit like it was made for you; never to be broken apart.

It still doesn’t stop the ache in your chest, but it's the right thing.

Max breathes in behind you, such a staggered sound it could be a plea for help.

You move toward your seat, hoping he will not look upon this moment too badly. That one day, in the future, his anger will have left him and he will realize this was your last act of love: to help him, even when it means breaking his heart a little bit more.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and 1,792,164 others

f1gossipofficial: Lewis Hamilton was spotted this weekend in Monaco hanging out with Y/N L/N. They collaborated on Y/N's debut album, even sharing a kiss in the music video for "toxic to the end." Is a romance brewing? And how does Max Verstappen feel about all this?

tagged: yourinstagram, lewishamilton

view all 61,382 comments

user1: oh...max..

user2: oml he's literally MARRIED he's OVER. HER. it was four years ago. why does no one understand?

user3: this feels so intrusive but whatever. why are you taking pictures of them grocery shopping together 😭 let them live their life

user4: i love how lando is casually liking this.

user5: @/lando WHAT DO YOU KNOW lando: 🤐

user6: i literally said this as soon as the mv dropped. Y/N girl you have the sexist man alive as your friend MAKE A MOVE

user7: they have such good chemistry though!! did you see the rimowa interview??? same vibe, they're so adorable user8: so much better than her and max...am i right?

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

r/PopCultureChat · 1 day ago hemsworthss

Max Verstappen and Kelly Piquet calling it quits.

You might call me insane. You might say nothing official is out, but I think this might be true. As of October 2025:

Kelly unpinned both the pregnancy and the marriage announcement on her account. This is odd: she's had both up there since she made the posts. It probably isn't a matter of her clearing her feed or anything, because her Vogue shoot is still pinned. I looked for the post on her account and it was GONE. I looked for the pregnancy post on Max's account and she was no longer listed as a collaborator. Max was never a collaborator on the marriage announcement.

She's been posting a lot with P and the young 'un, but Max isn't in any of them. In his Team Redline streams, Max is always alone. Neither of his kids has appeared. Judging from the locations on her posts, she and her kids are on vacation in Europe.

Kelly wasn't at the last two Grand Prixes. She posted a story of her watching one on the couch but that was it. Neither of her kids were there, either.

Max has been posting more recently and he's been spending time with friends over family. Lando has him in a few dumps: playing paddle, Max even holding a guitar. Who plays guitar? Y/N L/N but that's not the point. Max is learning new hobbies and spending alone time.

I think I'm right. And if DeuxMoi has anything to say about a famous athlete/model couple filing for divorce, I'm placing my bets on Max and Kelly. Thoughts?

dannyric03: I don't want to believe it. He's so happy with the kids. Fatherhood suits him well.

↳ AppleBiter12: But fatherhood and marriage are different things. I thought maybe they got married because they thought the child would bring them closer. And it didn't.

hamiltons8th: I don't know. It seems debatable. Maybe they're just taking a break. It has been a stressful season so far.

↳ FantasyFox719: Right. But Max loves his kids, of course he'd want to spend time with him. I can't think of why he wouldn't spend his time between races (as he normally does) with his family instead of colleagues. ↳ hamiltons8th: @/FantasyFox719 Well him and Lando are best mates, something like that. I do think it's odd he's not with his kids. Maybe Kelly suggested it.

PeacockJazz450: Unrelated but did you see the news about Y/N and Lewis?

↳ hemsworthss: I did, actually. I think they're a very cute couple (if they're dating) that complement each other's personalies and goals very well. Lewis is very career-focused and so is Y/N. Love both of them lots. Even if they're friends I'm sure it's a great relationship. ↳ PeacockJazz450: @/hemsworthss Lol. I agree. Maybe Max crashed out after seeing that and decided he needed a break too 😂 There was this one tweet going around that was like "Imagine winning in Abu Dhabi 21 but losing the love of your life to the man you beat." ↳ hemsworthss: @/PeacockJazz450 Oh that's diabolical. Celebrity drama is bad enough but so many of the drivers are bops and their dating life is mildly concerning. Very interesting though. ↳ PeacockJazz450: @/hemsworthss At least Y/N hasn't dated anyone that we know of. I hope it folds out well.

ApplestoApples: if it's true that's such a shame. they've only been married for a year or so.

↳ 5_vettel: Agreed. But celebrity relationships never seem very stable.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

kellypiquet has added to their stories

[ caption: family first 🧑‍🧒‍🧒 ]

replies:

user1: the one parent?? the two kids?? KELLY DID YOU SPLIT

user2: uh oh...

user3: max what did you do this time

user4: hope you're okay queen!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by ladygaga, lewishamilton and 3,184,932 others

yourinstagram: left the door open and this DIVA walked through 📢 "APT." is out now & you can watch it live at my burnout mini tour!!

🔗 tickets on sale at ynln.com/live

tagged: brunomars

user1: new album? y/n??

user2: BRUNO DELIVERED OH MY GOD

user3: first lewis now bruno how is she getting all these icons for collabs 😭 actually insane her team must be working overtime

brunomars: don't forget to drink dance shower and freak

user4: not him saying shower instead of smoke lolol bruno being a responsible man as always

user5: i hear the dating rumors

user6: max verstappen. did you see the kiss? i bet you saw the kiss

user7: watch him block you on insta user8: two more boys y/n has kissed now and none of them are called max verstappen!

user9: could not be more proud of you queen 🤍 from starting an acting career, to dropping an insane album, and to collaborating with huge artists. i'm sure you'll keep doing great things and no one can stop you. * liked by yourinstagram

user10: what does this mean for her and lewis ☹️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

TWO.

The crowd is still screaming as you scramble down the stairs, face flushed and out of breath. Sweat clings to your skin and your chest rises and falls, the adrenaline still coursing through you. Everything feels infinite, all the love shown out there drowning out your doubts and your past.

"Hell of a show you put out there, rockstar."

Lewis Hamilton leans against the table with your glass of water on it. His arms are crossed, an easy grin on his lips. He's dressed like he belongs here—which, admittedly, he now does.

He already knew about the concert: you couldn't wait to tell him when Bruno. Mars. Called. You. It wasn't exactly good timing, him just finishing the Mexico City Grand Prix the day before, but he came anyway. And dressed impeccably, at that.

You let out a breathy laugh, grabbing the glass. "You're just saying that because you got backstage treatment."

Lewis chuckles. "You know I mean it. You were unreal. When's the album coming out?"

"Hold on, hold on. Don't rush me. Give me a podium celebration first, will you?"

He tilts his head and you can't quite breathe. He says you were unreal but he's unreal. It still shakes you, sometime, how such a wonderful and caring and completely perfect man picked you to be his...friend.

You keep it at that word for now, but appreciate how good he looks with shades pushed back into his braids.

"Depends. You up for a champagne shower?"

Nothing flusters you like Lewis's quick wit.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. "Not in this dress, I’m not."

Lewis chuckles, his gaze lingering on you for half a second longer than necessary. "Shame. Would’ve been a pretty memorable moment. We'll have to reschedule."

You're aware of how close he is. How the conversation feels lighter than it should. How his presence is grounding in a way you don’t often get anymore. Your thoughts are wandering again, eyes tracing the curve of his mouth and—

The air shifts.

It’s subtle, like a drop in temperature. Like something's pressing against your ribs. You feel the presence and you know exactly what it is.

(Or maybe it's the fact that your team has gone completely silent. No more hurried congratulations and squeals in the background.)

Max.

He’s standing just a few steps away, lacking his usual Red Bull gear. His hair is all messed up, as if he got off a plane and came straight here. His jaw is set, his hands shoved into his pockets, his eyes flicking between you and Lewis. There’s something there—something simmering behind that calculated look of his.

Your grip tightens on the water bottle.

"Didn’t expect to see you here, Max." Your voice is even, but it takes effort.

He exhales sharply, shifting his weight. "You think I'd miss this?"

The words are simple, but the matter is not.

Lewis, ever observant, stays exactly where he is—relaxed but present. "Didn’t know you were a fan of good music, mate." His voice is smooth. Yet deliberate. You can't do this right now. Why does he have to show up whenever things in your life are getting good?

Max’s gaze flickers to Lewis, and for a second, something almost like amusement tugs at the corner of his mouth before disappearing just as quickly. "I've been listening for years."

It lands heavier than it should. Your pulse jumps and both of them are probably aware of it. Max isn't talking about the music.

Max’s eyes stay on you, searching. "You didn't think I'd come, did you?"

You exhale carefully. "I didn't...invite you."

Max’s jaw tightens. "Well. Here I am."

It's too much. The weight of his words, the way Lewis is next to you—grounding, solid, present—and Max is just there looking like he's trying to figure out how everything slipped through his fingers.

The air between the three of you stretches, taut and fragile. Max’s words still hang there—Well. Here I am.

You shift under Max’s stare, your grip tightening on the water bottle still in your hand. Your throat feels dry.

"What do you want me to say, Max? That I expected you to come? That I thought about it?"

Max exhales sharply. It pierces you like a knife. "I don’t know. Maybe." His voice is lower now, almost bitter. "You never wanted to talk about it."

His voice is rough when he speaks again. "Tell me you don’t think about it."

You are acutely aware of Lewis's presence, but Max is slowly taking over your thoughts.

You inhale sharply. It's all you can do. "Max—"

"Tell me you don’t wonder."

Your throat tightens.

You do. You have.

Some nights when the lights are off and the city finally shuts itself up, you let yourself think about it. About him and the moment he kissed you. The way his voice cracked when he said your name.

But you also remember the fear. The way you couldn't have let yourself fold—not then.

And now?

Now, Lewis is here. Steady and patient in ways Max never was. Lewis, who has never asked you for anything more than what you could give, who doesn’t need you to be anything other than what you already are. Lewis, who will let himself be just a friend. Lewis...

You glance at Lewis instinctively. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you. He understands.

This, Max notices.

His jaw clenches, the vein in his neck jumping. His hands curl into fists at his sides and then relax so fast you could've missed it. Is it for show, all of this? Does he want you to think he cares or not? He exhales, looking away for a brief second. Just enough to compose himself. When he looks back, something about him is more guarded.

"Right," Max says, much quieter. He nods, more to himself than to you. "I get it."

But the problem is that you don’t think he does.

Despite everything, despite Lewis, despite the way you had chosen to walk away.

You still...

Max lets out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "Right. Because it’s never the time, is it?"

Not this. You flinch, because he's right. You don't want to talk about it. How he kissed you, drunk but so eerily sober in the way all his thoughts came out at once. The weight of everything in between the two of you spilled over, something you weren't ready for. About how, even now, sometimes you catch yourself missing him before you remind yourself why you had to leave.

The fear is back.

Your whole life had began to shift, focusing on you. Y/N L/N, rising actress. People talked about you...and your friendship with Max. What it was. And if you had let yourself feel something for him—if you had let yourself fall—what would have been left of you?

"There was nothing to talk about," you say. It's hollow, like another word could crush it into smithereens.

Max's mouth purses into a thin line. "That’s bullshit. You know it."

You're too aware of the people in the room, again.The way Lewis is still there, watching but not interrupting, not yet. The way Max is standing too close, and yet not close enough.

You shake your head, only able to reiterate all the things you've already told him. "This isn't the time for this."

Lewis shifts beside you then, speaking for the first time in minutes. He's had enough. His voice is calm, smooth, but there’s something sharper beneath it. Water over rocks, threatening to split the waves any minute. "If you're looking for something from her, maybe you should ask yourself why you didn’t do it when it actually mattered."

Max turns to Lewis, his posture stiffening. There's a respect between the two, but spite typically taints it. Now? No malice—just frustration, just regret. Just something ugly and old between all of you.

You close your eyes for half a second, steadying yourself. When you open them, Max is looking at you again, waiting.

But he’s always been waiting, hasn't he?

And you?

You’ve always been running. From what? you wonder now. From something real?

Something has changed. Now you're not sure if you're tired of running or just afraid of what happens when you stop.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

kellypiquet and maxverstappen have added to their stories

replies:

user1: so it was true??

user2: praying for you kelly <3

user3: 5 bucks it has to do with y/n and whatever he did when he showed up at her concert

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

THREE.

The coffee shop is cozy, the kind of place you go when you want to be alone with your thoughts. You're sitting at a corner table, flipping through your phone. Doomscrolling, they call it.

It’s been a while since you last saw Max—months, maybe. His divorce from Kelly was all over the media, and yet, here you are, sitting in the same coffee shop as him. The silence is louder than any of the questions you had when the news first broke.

You didn’t expect to run into him today.

You'd also thought you were over all of it. Buried, deep down. But when his voice meets your ears, it's all coming back.

"You still like this place, huh?" Max sounds like he's been thinking about his question for a while.

Glancing up, surprise flickers across your face. "Max...didn't expect to see you here."

He stands there for a moment, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket. You feel the awkward tension rising like steam from your mug.

“You’re hard to avoid these days,” Max says, his words coming out almost casually. "Guess we keep bumping into each other."

You raise an eyebrow, setting your phone down. “We never really bumped into each other before.”

Max’s lips tighten for a moment. Caught. “No. I guess we haven't."

Neither of you move. Then, Max steps forward, hesitating just slightly before sitting across from you.

“Nice seeing you. Didn't expect it to be here."

You nod slowly, unsure of how to respond. "Yeah...well, things change."

Vulnerably flickers in his eyes. You haven't seen that in a while. "They do," he agrees.

It's unfinished, this mess between you.

"I know things got complicated," Max continues. "I shouldn't have pushed you. I didn't mean to make it worse but I did."

You want to say something—anything. But the words are stuck. Everything: the kiss, the distance, all the memories you've shared. They're all under the surface, waiting for someone to make sense of it all.

Instead, you try to find your footing. "Max...what are we even doing here?"

Something like the Max you used to know. He's less guarded, less distant. "I don't know. But I don't want things to be like this. No forever."

You swallow hard. You want to respond, but there's too much going on in your head.

Max breaks the silence. Again. This time, he's more quiet. "So, what about him? Lewis?"

The way he says it makes you wonder. Jealousy? Not that, he's past that. But it's a question wrapped in old pain. He wants to know. He always has.

You lean back in your chair, letting out a soft sigh. "What about him?"

Max’s eyes are searching. "You're...close. Do you, I don't know, care about him?"

The answer isn't as simple as either of you would like it to be. There's a part of you that wants to spill out all the feelings. That you don't know. Still don't.

"He's good to me. I don't know what else you want me to say."

It's not the answer he wants to hear, but he nods anyway. "Yeah, I get it."

The past is complicated, and the present is no less so. There's a peace with Lewis. But Max...Max has a way of making everything feel unresolved.

You bite your lip, unsure if you should talk more. You want to say something that makes sense, that will give both of you the closure you need. The truth is, there's too much unsaid. Unresolved. It's sitting there, loose strings and all.

"Maybe we never had the chance to figure it out. It wasn't just about what we felt, Max. It was everything else too."

His expression tightens. Like the words aren't forming right. The old ache is there in his words, in his face. They never healed. "I was an idiot, wasn't I?" he mutters.

You shake your head, not wanting to dwell on that when he's already beat himself up for half a decade. "We were both...confused. We had different things to figure out."

You can't place the look in his eyes. "Maybe. But I was never just confused about you. I was scared of losing it all. Of losing what we could've had."

It hits you in the chest. Then, the words come out before you can stop them. "Max...we shouldn't leave it like this. I don't want to leave it. Again."

"So what does that mean?" His voice is hopeful, though he has his doubts.

It won't be the same. That's impossible.

"I don't know. We'll have to figure it out." You hesitate before taking out your phone. "Maybe we can...talk more. Not lose touch again."

A smile breaks across his face, though he tries to hide it. "That sounds good. I'd like that."

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

did you like this? i wanna make a part three. it's like...closure but not completely, you know? there's still a lot for them to deal with and also lewis! beautiful beautiful lewis! messy max or lovely lewis ? 🤨

#max verstappen x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #lewis hamilton x reader #max verstappen #lewis hamilton #x reader #x you #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 x you #oikarma ᯓᡣ𐭩

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ak319 · 2 months ago

Text

Dark A.M x fem!reader

-- ★ The Word of Claim ┃ ─𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏─

Syno: Word of claim, a tradition where a man fires his weapon outside a woman's home and speaks her name, and in that moment, she becomes his wife. Though deemed unlawful, a taboo… who cares? Outlaws never follow laws, do they? Warnings/MDNI: none. ✰ 8.8K tag list: @shackspossum @whalecage @nayykura

─concept m.list

Dutch and Hosea cackled as they stepped out of the saloon, the warm glow of lamplight catching the edges of their grins.

“That was so easy,” Dutch said, his voice carrying the smooth satisfaction of a man who always believed he was one step ahead.

Hosea nodded, slapping Dutch on the back. “Didn’t I tell you? Weekend nights are a gold mine.” He jingled the coins in his hand, counting quickly before slipping the money securely into his pocket. The night was brisk, the sounds of drunken chatter and distant music blending into the background as the two made their way to the horses.

But Dutch’s steps slowed, his attention snagging on something, or someone, further down the street.

“Hosea... you see that?”

Hosea followed Dutch’s gaze, his amusement dimming. A young girl, no older than nine or ten, stood motionless on the wooden sidewalk. Her wide eyes darted around, her expression a mix of terror and confusion. She was dressed too neatly for the dusty town, her clothes crisp and well-tailored, the kind of outfit only a wealthy family could afford.

“Hmm,” Hosea muttered, a note of unease creeping into his tone. “Poor kid looks lost.”

“Lost,” Dutch repeated, a contemplative edge in his voice. His sharp eyes studied her, taking in every detail, the way her hands nervously twisted the fabric of her clothes, the tear tracks streaked across her flushed cheeks, the way she shrank against the lamppost as if the world were too big and too dangerous.

“Dutch,” Hosea said quietly, sensing where this might be heading.

But Dutch had already started forward, his expression shifting into something softer, something almost kind. “Well, hello there, darlin’,” he called out, his voice warm and honeyed, the tone he used when reeling someone into his plans.

The girl flinched, her small hands clutching her skirt tighter. She didn’t respond, her eyes locked on Dutch as if trying to decide whether he was a threat or a savior.

Hosea sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dutch, maybe we oughta-”

“She’s scared, Hosea,” Dutch interrupted, his gaze never leaving the girl. He crouched slightly, his tone coaxing. “Ain’t no need to be frightened, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

"I am not te-lling."

"Okay, no problem. Ain' prying. Where are you parents? We can take you to them , help you find em'"

“I--they’re gone... on a trip,” you mumbled, your voice breaking as tears welled up in your eyes.

“A trip?. Where to?”

“I--I don’t know!. I just wanna go home!” you cried, your small body trembling with the effort to hold back sobs.

Dutch’s expression flickered, something unspoken passing between him and Hosea. With a heavy sigh, Hosea stepped forward, his tone calm and measured. “Alright now, missy, let’s sit down for a bit. You tell us what you can, and we’ll see if we can figure this out, eh?”

It took some coaxing and the promise of something to eat, but soon you found yourself sitting on a park bench between the two men. Hosea handed you a crumpled handkerchief to wipe your tears while Dutch leaned forward, listening intently as your words spilled out in fits and starts.

Your parents, you explained, had left for a business trip to France. You had been left in the care of your uncle and aunt. But things had taken a dark turn. They had kicked you out of your own home, their jealousy of your parents’ wealth and status boiling over into spiteful revenge.

Dutch leaned back, his brow furrowing as he processed your story. This is some next-level low, even for him. Kicking out a little kid, from her own house? Over some family feud? But his brain conjured some good out of this too...

"So, she knows when her parents are gonna be back," Dutch began, a sly smile creeping across his face. "And I know they’re rich as hell, Hosea. So let’s help her, wait for their grand return, even better when they hang those posters and when we bring their little girl back..."

“We get rewarded?” Hosea deadpanned as he shot a glance at you, sitting a few feet away on the bench, quietly sniffing into the handkerchief. Mhm, not completely a bad idea...

Dutch’s grin widened. “Exactly.”

“I'm in.”

As they turned back toward you, Dutch crouched again, his voice soft but firm. “Alright, darlin’, here’s the deal. You come with us, and we’ll take care of you till your folks get back. Safe and sound. How’s that sound?”

You hesitated, your eyes flickering between the two men. “I don’t know... I don’t want to.”

Dutch’s expression hardened, the softness giving way to a sharper edge. “Well, let me tell you somethin’. Ain’t nobody else out here gonna take pity on you. You’re a kid alone on these streets. If someone don’t snatch you up to sell or worse, they’ll leave you to starve. That what you want?”

Your breath hitched, the weight of his words sinking in. You shook your head slowly, clutching the handkerchief tighter.

“Then come on,” Dutch urged, standing and offering his hand. “You don’t have to trust us, but right now, we’re all you’ve got. And I promise, we’ll get you home.”

With no other choice, you let yourself believe him, just enough. You reached out hesitantly, placing your small hand in his larger one. Somehow, it felt like a lifeline.

❀˖°

That's how you ended up living with a gang, although you never imagined it would be for a whole two months. You understood the concept of outlaws...that they were terrible people. But these folks? They weren’t so bad… Well, most of them.

"HEY! IT'S MINE!"

"Not anymore." With that, John devoured your entire chocolate bar in one bite.

"AUNTY SUSAN GAVE IT TO ME!"

"Well, too bad. It’s gone. Now what? You gonna cry, little princess?-OW! OW! HEY-"

"Why can’t you leave her alone, huh?!" Arthur’s voice boomed as he stepped in, giving John a few solid smacks before pushing him away. "Idiot..."

You watched as Arthur turned to you, his expression softening. You immediately sat down in silence, instinctively becoming still. He could be kind of scary when he wanted to be, even at 15.

"Um... sorry for him," Arthur muttered, looking at you with an awkward smile. "Here, you can have mine." He pulled out another chocolate bar, but you shook your head, rejecting it.

"Please...take it."

You nodded and took it muttering a small thank you, still feeling too embarrassed to have accepted the gesture.

He gave you a small, understanding nod. "Just call me...if he bothers again. Alright?" Then, with a half-smile, he wandered off.

That's how you and Arthur began interacting. He was genuinely interested in learning about your life, curious about how others lived. At first, you were intimidated by him, but slowly, you began to share bits of your life when he asked, and over time, the two of you became friends.

He taught you things you didn’t know, how to clean a gun, the different parts, even use it, and how to properly care for a horse. You were fascinated by his patience, as he showed you step by step, making it seem so simple and easy. It was a peaceful and surprisingly enjoyable activity for both of you.

Arthur found a sense of home in the camp, a rare calm amidst the chaos. And for you, it became a momentary escape from the pain of missing your parents and the anger you felt toward your relatives.

He never had a female friend close to his age in this life, and it was refreshing for him to find someone who wasn’t afraid to speak their mind or laugh at the little things.

But then the time came, the time for your parents' arrival. Dutch decided it was appropriate enough to take you back, and so he, Hosea, and Arthur went along, though the boy wasn't entirely sure why he did. Maybe he just wanted to see where you came from, see your house.

When your parents saw you return, safe and happy, it was like they’d been revived. They were grateful to Dutch and the gang for taking care of you. You told them how these people had saved you, and, true to their word, they paid Dutch a generous amount for the trouble. All in all, it was a weary, yet friendly encounter. Dutch didn’t rob them, and your parents never suspected the gang's true intentions.

Your aunt and uncle had long been thrown out, so that was one relief. Of course, your father wouldn’t ever let go of the anger, but for now, everything seemed calm.

Arthur, however, was feeling something else. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d grown used to your presence in the camp. A new, refreshing friend in a world that had so little of that to offer. He couldn’t help but feel a little sad as you said your goodbyes to the three of them. He threw one last glance at your form, watching as you walked inside, safe and sound, where you truly belonged

But one day, Arthur decided to stop being afraid of something as simple as a friendship. He figured he'd visit you, and see how you were doing, but when he arrived, he found out you were gone. You had moved somewhere else, and no one seemed to know where.

With a heavy sigh, he turned and returned to camp. Perhaps it was for the better. What had he been thinking? What would the others have thought, your parents, especially? What was he even expecting? He couldn’t quite put it into words.

A nagging thought lingered in his mind. But he shook it off. Maybe it was just a momentary lapse that didn’t need to be dwelled on. After all, what did it matter?

❀˖°

The years passed by, and both of you were busy with your own lives. More than most, Arthur immersed himself in the gang’s work, the constant pull of jobs, and the weight of other matters. Matters like heartbreaks. Like Mary...

The twenty-six-year-old sighed as he shut his journal, his mind drifting back to simpler days. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the silence to settle around him, but just a few minutes later, Ms. Grimshaw’s voice cut through the quiet.

"Mr. Morgan, got a minute?" she called from the doorway. Arthur groaned internally, but he sat up, rubbing his face.

"What is it, Ms. Grimshaw?"

"Got to head to the town for supplies. You up for it? Shouldn’t take long."

Arthur thought for a moment. He could use a few things himself, some ammunition, maybe a new hat.

"Yeah, I guess. Let's go."

The dusty road to the town was a familiar one, the wooden buildings of Sable Creek rising ahead as they crested a hill. The town had a certain charm to it, despite the ever-present stench of horse manure and the occasional storms that rolled through. It was a regular stop for the gang. Supplies, people to talk to, and if you were lucky, a drink at the saloon.

Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw made their way into town, picking up what they needed without much fuss. She was quick and efficient, always knowing exactly where to find the best goods for the gang’s needs.

After they'd gathered what they came for, Arthur’s eyes fell on a poster pinned to a wall, the ink stark against the old wood. The name on it stopped him dead in his tracks.

It was your father's name, (F/N) (L/N). The same name that had once meant nothing more to him than a fleeting memory. But now, there it was, emblazoned across the poster, paired with an unfamiliar slogan about (L/N)'s Manor and Mercantile Services. Arthur’s heart skipped. He stared at it, his pulse quickening.

He approached the poster and ran his fingers across the faded paper. "What the hell...?" he muttered to himself.

Your father, he couldn’t believe it. That name, your name… it had come back to him in an unexpected way

He was about to walk away when he noticed a man leaning against the nearby post, whittling a stick. A typical town local, rugged and weathered, the kind who might know something about the area. Arthur walked over, his steps fueled with curiosity, the urge to know more, tipping his hat to the man.

"Hey. You know anything 'bout (L/N)’s...residence?

The man glanced up at him, eyeing Arthur with a mix of suspicion and indifference. "(L/N)'s? Sure, I know 'em. Big uh estate...just a few miles north of here. Fancy place. Always got something going on, business deals, functions, you name it. Real high-falutin'. You lookin’ to pay 'em a visit?"

"Just curious. Never been out there. Figured... I might check it out."

The man gave a short laugh, scratching his chin. "Not many folks 'round here who want to go there. But if you do, take the road north by the old mill. You can’t miss it."

Arthur nodded, thanks on the tip of his tongue. Before he could say more, Ms. Grimshaw called from a distance, waving her hand impatiently.

"Arthur, let's go! We're burnin' daylight!"

He turned to the man once more. "Appreciate it."

As he walked away, his mind was a swirl of thoughts. He hadn’t expected to find out anything like this today. He glanced back at the poster one more time before putting it in his pocket, his thoughts drifting to you and what had happened since he last saw you.

For now, he’d finish the supply run.

❀˖°

"Kay' wait here and I'll go ask."

Arthur stood still, watching as the guard disappeared inside the large, grand estate, his eyes scanning the surroundings. The estate was even bigger than he'd imagined, its iron gates tall and imposing, with carefully manicured gardens on either side. He couldn’t help but feel out of place, a simple outlaw in a world of opulence.

Minutes passed before the guard emerged again, walking toward him. Arthur’s gaze flicked over the scene, but something about the figure approaching him made his heart skip. He blinked in confusion, unsure of what he was seeing. And then, from the distance, he saw you.

You were walking toward him, your pace steady and sure, your eyes narrowing as you took in his figure. Arthur’s mind raced, this couldn’t be real, could it? It had been so long since that day he left you, since the gang had dropped you off at your parent's estate. And now, here you were, standing before him, looking different, yet somehow still the same.

"(Y/N)?" Arthur asked, his voice coming out almost as a whisper, unsure whether this was just a trick of the light or something else entirely.

You stopped in front of him, a small smirk playing at the corner of your lips. "Yeah... it’s me. Arthur?"

He took off his hat, his hands feeling awkward as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "You remember me?"

You stifled a laugh, your gaze sharp and assessing. "Of course, oh my God! I remember every one of you. How could I forget that time?" You paused for a beat, eyes softening just a fraction as if the memory made you nostalgic, or maybe something more. "How did you even find me!?"

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of his neck as he avoided your gaze for a moment. "Saw a poster in town. Your father’s name. Thought it was a coincidence, but..." He shrugged, unsure how to explain. "Guess it wasn’t."

"A poster, huh? Guess that’s one way of tracking someone down." Your tone was playful, yet there was an edge to it, like you weren’t sure whether to welcome him or not.

Arthur took a moment to really look at you, your appearance had changed and matured...beautifully. You carried yourself differently, more poised, more... put together than he remembered. He looked away embarrassed praying you didn't notice him observing you.

“I didn’t...expect to see you here,” Arthur finally said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You smiled, a soft, knowing smile that made his heart stutter. "And I didn’t expect you to be looking for me." there was a faintest trace of amusement in your voice.

“I… I didn’t know what to expect. Thought I’d just see how you’re doing. Been a long time. So...how’s everything? Your folks?”

You sighed, your shoulders relaxing a little. “My folks are fine. Busy with their business. Nothing really changes, you know? And you? What’s the real story? You look… different, Arthur."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "I’ve had a lot of time to change, I guess. Been around, and seen some things. I didn’t mean to disrupt anything. Just… curious. Wanted to know if you were alright.”

With a small sigh, you uncrossed your arms and nodded. “Well, I’m fine. I’m… alright. But what about you? How’s life for a man like you now?”

Arthur’s smile faltered, the weight of his own life pressing down on him. "It ain't easy," he admitted, scratching his jaw. "But it's life, you know? Just trying to keep my head above water."

You looked at him again, the faintest flicker of something in your eyes, pity, maybe, or understanding. It was hard to tell. "Anyway, come on in."

Arthur blinked, still processing the invitation. “I--inside? I mean... you do know who I am, right?” His words faltered, and he glanced nervously at the manor around him, feeling out of place. “And I’m sure your parents-”

You cut him off with a dismissive wave. “No, no, they won’t mind. My parents aren’t that strict, you know?” You gave him a quick, mock assessing look, one eyebrow quirking up. “And you sure aren't here to rob us, are you?”

Arthur let out a short laugh. “Of course not! I just-” He stopped, fumbling for the right words. “I didn’t expect this. But... uh, okay. I’ll come in.”

You grinned and waved him inside. “Then come on, I can’t stand out here in the heat any longer. We don't send guests away just like that.. Especially old friends!”

With a slight chuckle of his own, Arthur followed you toward the door. He handed the reins of his horse to a nearby stable hand, still bewildered by the whole situation.

As you led him inside, Arthur couldn’t help but glance around, eyes wide as he took in the lavish surroundings. The grand staircase, the polished floors, and the meticulously arranged furniture. It was a far cry from the dusty campsites and rundown cabins he was used to.

"Do you know I have a little brother now? (B/N). He's 10, but he's taking a nap right now. My father is actually gone for a few days, but mum is home - MAMA! Look who's here! Let's hope she remembers you." Before Arthur could protest, your mother's voice startled him, and he, despite being clearly visible, stood behind you, making you snort at the way he reacted. "Relax, she not gonna eat you."

"Who is this, (Y/N)?" your mother asked, her voice a mix of polite curiosity and a hint of panic. She stepped into the room, her gaze sweeping over Arthur, who had awkwardly remained behind you, practically peeking from over your shoulder.

"Um--Hi...Mrs. (L/N)..."

You quickly stepped forward, giving her a reassuring smile. "Mama, it's Arthur, Arthur Morgan. From back then, you know, from the camp. He was one of the ones who... helped me when I was lost."

Your mother's expression softened immediately as the recognition clicked. She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning Arthur once more as if confirming it for herself. “Ahh, yes... I remember now. I thought you looked familiar.” She gave him a small, polite smile, her shoulders relaxing. “I hope you’re well, son.”

Arthur nodded, his usual stoic demeanor now softened by the fact that your mother seemed to remember him. Your mother's warm reaction put him at ease, and he began to feel less like an intruder and more like... someone who had once been part of your life.

"I hope you are well too...Mrs. (L/N)."

"Well, make yourself at home, Arthur," your mother said with a slight bow of her head before disappearing back into the other room, leaving you and Arthur alone to continue your impromptu tour.

You immediately began ushering Arthur through the house. "Alright, let me show you around!" Your voice was light and almost giddy, as you led him from one room to another, more like dragging.

"This is the study!"

"This is the sunroom!"

"This is the snooker room! Nice right?."

You quickly moved on. “And this is my favorite piece.” You pointed at an ornate, vintage mirror on the wall, its frame carved in intricate patterns. “It was a gift from my aunt. She said it’s been in the family for years.”

Finally, you stopped in front of a door, and your grin widened. “And this is my room!” you said, throwing the door open with a flourish.

Arthur stepped inside your room cautiously, his hat gripped tightly in his hands, his gaze darting around the space as though he were intruding on something sacred. The room was spacious yet inviting, with soft, muted colors that seemed to reflect your personality. Plush furniture filled the space with warmth, while delicate paintings adorned the walls, their subjects peaceful and idyllic. A large window bathed the room in sunlight, framing a picturesque view of the garden outside. The books on the shelves and the papers piled neatly on your desk hinted at a thoughtful and busy life.

Arthur shifted awkwardly, his boots scuffing lightly against the polished floor as he lingered near the door. He had never so casually entered a woman’s room before, and the intimacy of it caught him off guard. His world was one of dirt and danger, rough edges and fleeting comforts. Here, in this quiet, cozy room, he felt like an intruder in a place far too refined for someone like him.

“It’s... uh, real nice,” he mumbled, his voice low as his fingers toyed nervously with the brim of his hat. His eyes flitted to the soft throw draped over the chair, the pastel tones of the walls, the delicate lace curtains framing the window. He couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed. It was a glimpse into a life he could only dream of, a life so far removed from the rugged chaos he was used to.

You laughed softly, your voice breaking the quiet spell. "It’s just a room, Arthur. You can come in properly, y’know. I don't have a pet snake here or something that's gonna jump on you. Well, I do have a cat, Suki, I'll introduce you to her too."

He glanced at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck."Didn’t mean to...well, just never been in a...in a lady’s room before. Feels kinda...uh, different."

You grinned, leaning casually against the desk. "Awkward? Mhm. I can understand." you teased, watching his unease grow in the way he avoided looking directly at you.

Arthur chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe a little…but it’s nice. Real nice. It’s refreshing. Seein’ how you live, all the pretty colors and…just feels peaceful.

There was something almost boyish about the way he avoided meeting your eyes for too long, his shyness making him look as though he were caught somewhere he shouldn’t be. His eyes wandered again, lingering on the colors, the soft curtains swaying in the breeze, and the little personal touches, things he wouldn’t have noticed in passing but now couldn’t seem to look away from. It wasn’t just a room; it was a glimpse into your world, one he found himself inexplicably drawn to.

“Real beautiful though” he added, his voice a little gruffer, as if trying to mask the sincerity behind his words.

Just like you.

As you gave him your usual fast-paced rundown, commenting on the things you loved most, Arthur couldn’t help but chuckle softly. You hadn’t changed much since he last saw you, just as animated as he remembered.

He stood by the window, watching the light play across the room. “You’ve got a nice place,” he remarked quietly, turning to look at you as you animatedly continued your tour.

You gave him a cheeky grin. “Well, someone has to live the high life, right?”

Arthur smiled softly, the gap between your worlds feeling just a little smaller, a little less daunting. He was beginning to realize that maybe you hadn't changed as much as he'd thought. The girl he remembered from the camp, the one who'd walked into his life and captured his attention, was still there, but now surrounded by all of this...comfort, privilege, and light. A world that felt so far from his own. Yet, here he was, standing in the middle of it, feeling like maybe, just maybe, he could fit into your life again.

"Oh, my apologies, I didn’t even offer you any refreshments! Let’s go eat lunch in the garden. And while we’re at it, you have to tell me stories of what you've been doing all these years, alright?"

"Alright, alright. You are too kind."

He shared stories of the gang, of the jobs (he chose to tell about the less gory ones in fear of your reaction and didn’t want you to listen to his darker deeds), and of the things he had seen. You listened intently, your laughter filling the air when he mimicked some of the gang members' eccentricities. The sound of your familiar voice made his heart feel light, even if it was brief. Suki purred softly in his lap, his fingers instinctively stroking her fur as he listened to you speak. The knowledge you shared astounded him, whether it was answering business queries with sharp wit or the rise and fall of empires. you seemed to hold a wealth of understanding that captivated him.

But as the lunch came to an end and the moment of departure loomed closer, a quiet thought began to settle in his chest, heavier than any of the words exchanged between you both. When your mother came by to check on the two of you, everything seemed... easy. She was warm, welcoming even, in a way that made Arthur feel comfortable, almost at home. He expected some resistance, or at least for her to be a little wary of him, an outlaw, being here with her unmarried daughter nonetheless...maybe she's just good at hiding it.

Your mother’s voice interrupted the quiet moment as she stepped outside, her tone light but loaded with something Arthur couldn’t place. "Thank you, Arthur. It’s been good to see you again."

Arthur nodded, about to say something polite when your mother’s next words stopped him in his tracks.

"You know, it’s nice that (Y/N) has someone like you as a friend. She talked about you all so fondly and missed you guys. I always hoped she’d have someone like a brother in her life."

Arthur’s heart sank, the words cutting through the air like a sudden chill. He tried to mask the shift in his expression, tried to keep the smile on his face, but the cold truth settled heavily in his chest.

You , she, saw him as just a friend, someone like a brother, just another part of the past. And when you agreed with your mother’s sentiment, confirming it with your usual lighthearted chuckle and nod, something inside him broke.

He had convinced himself, for a moment, that maybe there was more to this reunion than just memories. Maybe there was something between the two of you, something that had never quite been given a chance before, something he could explore now, in this new life. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all. You were still the girl from the camp, the one who had felt lost and scared, but now you were a woman with your own life, your own world, and Arthur was just a piece of that world, a passing memory that would never be more than that.

The realization stung. It hurt more than he cared to admit.

"Take care, Arthur," you said, a soft smile tugging at your lips as you watched him. "It was really good to see you again. And you can send a letter anytime you want. I would love to chat and hear your stories."

Arthur paused, his hand on the reins, a lump forming in his throat at your words. It wasn’t the farewell he had imagined, nor the one he’d hoped for.

Send a letter anytime you want.

The kindness in your voice, the way you spoke so naturally, as if this was just a casual goodbye between old friends, felt like both a balm and a wound.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to keep his composure. A letter. It should have been enough, he told himself. It should have been. But it wasn't.

He turned back toward you, the distance between you suddenly feeling impossibly wide. He wanted to say something---anything---to ease the weight of the moment, but the words caught in his throat.

Instead, he tipped his hat to you, giving you a tight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I- I will. Take care, (Y/N)."

Just like with Mary...

The thought lingered, gnawing at him as the miles stretched out between him and your home. He had convinced himself that it would be different. That you were different. But he had been wrong.

The way your family had treated him, with that polite kindness, it had all felt so genuine, so warm. But now, with the weight of your casual farewell still heavy on his heart, Arthur realized it wasn’t warmth for him. It was warmth for the person they saw him as.

He had imagined so many different scenarios in his head, each one more foolish than the last, each one filled with hope he should have known better than to entertain. He wasn’t fool enough to believe there could be more between you two, not now, not ever.

With a bitter chuckle, Arthur let his horse trot faster, trying to outrun the feeling settling in his chest.

Just like with Mary.

The damn haunting comparison. But this one felt worse. Mary had been a distant dream, someone whose absence was long understood, a love that was never truly his, to begin with. But you... you were real. You were there, so close, yet just....out of reach. Your kindness, your warmth, your family’s welcoming nature, it had made him believe for a moment that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the same old Arthur Morgan to you. He felt accepted...but he had been wrong. Maybe your parents were just nice to him out of fear and gratitude...and harbored the same resentment behind closed doors. Perhaps...you too? No...no you are not fake, he can tell that for sure. Right? You trust him...he sees it in your gentle eyes. Those beautiful eyes...

❀˖°

The evening was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling. You were curled up in the armchair by the window, a book open in your lap, the golden lamplight casting a cozy glow over the room. The story had drawn you in, its words painting vivid pictures in your mind, though the sound of your mother’s sewing needle punctuated the quiet like a gentle metronome.

“Darling,” your mother said, her voice cutting softly through the silence. She didn’t look up from her work, but you felt her gaze flicker in your direction.

“Hm?”

“About earlier, Arthur’s visit.”

The mention of his name drew you out of the book. You glanced up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Hm? What about it, Mama?”

She set her sewing aside and folded her hands neatly in her lap, a gesture that told you she was about to say something serious. “It’s not… proper, you know. A man visiting when your father isn’t home. Especially someone like him. You shouldn't have dragged him inside like that...and given him a tour. Use your senses dear.

You frowned, closing your book but keeping your finger tucked inside to save your place. “He wasn’t here long, and it wasn’t like that. He’s just… Arthur. He won't do something heinous like that. He's like a brother. You said so yourself."

“Arthur or not,” she continued, her voice calm but firm, “a young woman inviting...a man, much less an outlaw into her home, without her father here, will have people talking. And not kindly. I swear you are too naive at times. And the reason I said it , well, it was to make things clear. You understand?"

You looked down at the book, the words blurring on the page. "How can you even suggest me and him--God, look --I didn’t mean to cause any trouble, Mama. He’s kind of my friend, and I didn’t think it’d be right to send him away.”

“I’m not questioning his or your kindness, sweetheart. I’m questioning the situation. You’re a young lady now. People notice things, and they talk. Even if we live in a bit secluded area, there are still eyes. Our own servants for God's sake, dear. And having a man like him visiting when your father’s away… it just doesn’t look right. Also letters? I don't like the sound of that all. You better not respond."

You swallowed the knot forming in your throat and decided to ignore the comment about the letters, at least for now.

“Arthur didn’t mean anything by it. He just wanted to check in, that’s all. And I didn’t mean to drag him in, I just… didn’t think it was wrong. I mean I told you how they live...I just thought him being here would give him temporary comfort...y'know."

Her gaze softened slightly at your sincerity, but her concern didn’t waver. “I know you didn’t mean any harm. But next time, think twice. The world isn’t as forgiving as you might hope. And with a man like Arthur… well, his profession might bring more trouble than you realize. Be careful alright?"

You folded your hands in your lap, unsure how to respond. “I’ll be careful, Mama,” you murmured finally.

She nodded, though the worry in her eyes remained. “I just want what’s best for you, darling. That’s all. Also some reports just arrived from the office so why don't you go and check them. I had them put in your study."

“Right,” you replied, rising to your feet and stretching. “I’ll have some tea and snacks sent for.”

"Right away, darling."

❀˖°

Despite the sting of reality, Arthur couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t entirely silence the part of him that longed for more, more of you, more of the conversations, the stories, the friendship that had begun to feel like something deeper, something he wasn’t ready to admit to himself.

He started writing letters, even though he told himself he wouldn’t. At first, it was simple. A few words to pass the time. His handwriting was rough, not elegant like the letters of men who had been raised with the luxury of formal education. But somehow, it didn’t matter. He wrote about the mundane things that filled his days, the gang’s latest escapades, the horses he had worked with, and even the weather. He wrote about how much the work had been piling up, how his days felt long and endless. He wrote because, in some twisted way, it felt like he could still stay close to you, even if only in ink and paper.

He never expected a response, but he received one all the same.

A week later, came a simple reply, neatly written, not too long but full of warmth. You told him about your life, your family's health, and the weather at your home. You mentioned the garden, the books you’d been reading, and the gentle rhythm of your everyday life. Even sent gifts, not just for him but for others too, which he felt a bit spineless to accept but did so to not make you sad. He did love the coat. There were no big confessions, no declarations of longing.

Then, every Sunday became your day, a ritual of sorts. You would meet in a little café if both of you were free, which he tried his best to be, tucked away on the edge of town. A neutral place, quiet enough for conversation, warm enough to forget the world outside for just a few hours. Just eating and walking around the town really did more than he imagined. The peace...the comforting silence...your presence and most importantly the acceptance he felt.

The first meeting had been hesitant, a little awkward even. Arthur wasn’t used to sitting down with someone in such a relaxed setting, too used to the harshness of life in the gang, too used to avoiding anything that could resemble softness. But when you greeted him with that smile, with your gentle words, something inside him shifted. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. He began to crave the day. It felt like the beginning of something. Something fragile, something fleeting, but something nonetheless. If this damned friendship is all he gonna get, he might just live in the moment for now...

Arthur sat across from you, nursing his tea, while you picked at the slice of cake he’d ordered for you.

“Go on, eat it,” Arthur said, his tone gruff but amused as he watched you push the fork around the plate. “It’s not going to bite you.”

You shot him a glare, not at all deterred. “Yeah...I just...I’m just not that hungry y'know, I think I had a heavy breakfast,” you muttered, not looking up from your cake, still taking small nibbles rather than finishing the whole thing.

Arthur let out a huff, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been at it for ten minutes now. The cake’s gonna go stale if you keep that up. You better eat it."

“It’s my cake, I’ll eat it when I feel like it.”

His lips quirked up slightly, though his gaze remained firm. “You’re actin’ like a child. It’s cake, not poison. Trust me, you’ll feel better once you’ve had it.”

“Pft. Right, right. You act as if you know everything.”

“It’s called common sense. Something you might want to try now and then.”

"Yeah well, I can perhaps get a bad stomach too, dumbass."

You made a face but finally picked up the fork and took a bigger bite, much to his satisfaction. "Mhm. Yum." Then your eyes lit up mischievously as a thought crossed your mind.

"Arthurrrrr, so you’re… what? In your late twenties, now? And still no girl in your life? That can’t be right." Your grin widened as you teased him. "Surely you’ve found someone by now. Or is there a special someone I don’t know about?"

Arthur froze for a moment, his hand hovering over his mug, and you caught the flicker of unease that passed over his face. He quickly recovered, though, leaning back in his chair with a slight scowl. "You think I’m just waitin’ around for some...woman to fall into my lap?"

You snickered, tapping the fork against your plate thoughtfully. "Well, I don’t know. You’ve never really said anything about anyone," you said, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. "You must’ve had a few crushes over the years, huh? Someone in the gang’s kept you company while you’re off doin’ your thing."

"Maybe.." he muttered, taking a slow sip of his tea. "But I don’t need you makin’ jokes about it."

Your grin only grew wider, leaning forward just a little. "Oh, come on, Arthur. If I won't then who will? Stop being lame. You can’t tell me that no one in your life has caught your eye. You're too... well, you know," you gestured vaguely with your fork, unable to find the right words but clearly referring to his ruggedness and that quiet charm he sometimes tried to hide.

He snorted, shaking his head. "I'm not exactly the type most women want to be around. Not with all the trouble I got goin’ on in my life."

"Well. Mhm, true. But. I’ve seen the way you care for your horses. That’s more than enough of a ‘gentleman’ for some girls, some even I know. All you need is a little push. I’ll give you the perfect match, just wait. Want me to...kickstart your romantic journey, mhmmm?"

He couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “I don’t know if I want you playing matchmaker. Couldn’t trust your judgment.”

“Oh, come on. What’s the worst that could happen? At least I’d be picking someone who’d treat you right. Also, I'd have some fun doing it! I did it for a cousin of mine, when I was like 18 and he's still grateful to me for finding him the perfect match. They are both so happy. HAHA! So take that."

Arthur chuckled, the moment's warmth easing the tension in his chest, even as something else, a strange ache, settled there. Why can't it be you then? He wanted to say but.... He pushed the thought away, focusing instead on the quiet joy of your company. Whatever it was, it was worth savoring for now.

Arthur finally broke the silence with a half-smile, leaning back in his chair once more. "Yeah, well, maybe. But for now, I’ll take my cake. And you’re too gonna finish that."

He hesitated for a moment before asking, his voice quieter. “What about you? You… got someone?” His grip tightened around the saucer in his lap, betraying his casual tone.

“Me?” You scoffed, almost offended by the mere thought. “Nah. I’m perfectly content with life, helping my parents with the business, going out with friends… and, of course, Suki." You petted the cat perched on the seat beside yours, causing the golden fluffball to purr."Don’t need anything or anyone else. My parents might have other ideas, though. Y'know, the usual talk about ‘finding a companion to grow old with’, all that sentimental crap. But you know what game I play with them?

Arthur raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite pushing the pang of jealousy aside. “Yeah? What? First off, finish laughing before you talk.”

His lips twitched as he watched your laughter bubble over, infectious as always. God, he loved the sound of it.

“Well...sometimes I let them think I’m ready. You know, like I’m open to meeting someone. So they get all excited and invite someone over for one of those discussions…”

Arthur tilted his head, already bracing for the punchline.

“And then I reject them. Every. Single. Time.”

Arthur couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing, shaking his head. “That’s downright cruel, you know.”

“Cruel?” you repeated with mock offense, leaning forward. “They’ll survive. It's a fun way to pass time you know. Besides, it keeps my parents off my back though. But I don't know for how long....”

How long....

Forget it Arthur, just get the thought of it out of your head.

Though he knew, it was easier said than done...

❀˖°

And just like that, a quiet, peaceful year passed, marked by letters and rare, cherished meetings. Arthur had moved farther from where you lived, making those moments together even more fleeting but no less meaningful.

But when the day of your usual meeting came again, you didn’t show. Arthur sat by the window in the café, watching the street for any sign of you. As the minutes stretched into hours, he tried to stay calm, telling himself you were likely sick or busy. He just hoped you were alright.

When you finally met again a few weeks later, Arthur couldn’t hold back. “You okay?” he asked, his tone casual but his blue eyes serious. “I mean, you missed our last meetin’, and your letters… They’ve been fewer.”

You smiled, but it was different now, thinner, softer. “Oh, I’ve just been busy with work and family,” you said lightly, waving a hand as though to brush his concern aside. “Nothing to worry about.”

Something was off.

What are you hiding from me?

He wouldn’t let this go. Not when it came to you.

Arthur nodded, but the unease stayed with him. Something about you was different, something he couldn’t quite name. You spoke less, and though your smile lingered, it didn’t carry the same warmth. And your laugh, he’d always loved your laugh, was quieter, restrained, to not draw attention.

Then there was the chaperone. Arthur noticed the older woman sitting nearby, her sharp gaze darting to the two of you now and then. You’d always come alone before, laughing off the need for an escort, but now she was here, a quiet, rigid presence that spoke volumes.

And it wasn’t just her. Arthur’s sharp eyes caught other subtle changes. Your gloves were gone, your hands bare even in the crisp autumn chill. He’d heard somewhere that unmarried women in polite society were expected to wear gloves when out in public. Then there was how you wore your shawl, which you always adjusted modestly as if to conform to someone else’s propriety.

But what struck him most was the absence of your laughter. The way your spirit seemed subdued. As if someone, or something, was pulling you further away.

“You sure it’s just work keepin’ you busy?”

“Of course. Just a lot going on, that’s all.”

Every small, unspoken detail gnawed at him. The chaperone. The clothes. The gloves. You hadn’t said anything, but your silence screamed louder than words. You talked less than usual, your words measured and cautious, lacking the easy rhythm he’d come to know.

Arthur’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but something was wrong. You weren’t just hiding something....you were slipping away.

So, instead, he did what he was best at, watching, waiting, and gathering the truth without words. He’d heard whispers about a function at your estate, a gathering.

The shadows were his allies as he lingered at the edges of the grand manor. The soft glow of lanterns and the gentle hum of conversation drifted through the night, and there you were, standing in the center of it all, radiant in a way that both drew him closer and crushed him inside.

Then he saw him.

The man by your side. The one who stood too close dared to touch your arm and waist s if it was his right. Arthur’s eyes locked onto the ring, glinting on your finger, catching the light like a cruel, deliberate taunt.

His chest tightened, his breath hitched. The air felt heavier, colder. His worst fear had materialized before him, and yet he couldn’t look away.

The man smiled at you, and you smiled back, polite and radiant enough to send a wave of heat through his veins, a fire that burned hotter with every passing second.

The gardener, a man with a weathered face and rough hands, had just stubbed out his cigarette, the glow of the ember fading into the night. He turned to head inside the gates, but before he could take another step, a firm hand shot out from the shadows. The gardener’s back slammed against the stone wall with a grunt, his breath knocked out of him.

Arthur’s face was inches from his now, his cold blue eyes burning with a fierce intensity.

“You know about the marriage,” Arthur growled, his voice low but dripping with menace. “When? Hm?”

The gardener blinked rapidly, panic flickering across his face as he stammered, his words tripping over each other. “I-I... I didn’t mean- I--don’t--don’t know anythin’ about no marriage…you can't do this-"

He shoved the gardener harder against the wall, his voice growing more dangerous with every syllable. That's when the man felt a cold metal touch the side of his stomach and when he saw it, he nearly had a heart attack. “Tell. Me. The. Fucking. Date. When is it? When is she marrying him?”

The gardener's face turned pale as he struggled to find his voice, his eyes darting nervously around as if looking for an escape. His breath ragged as he stammered, “It--it’s... next month. The fifth. H-here...at the estate.. that's all I k-know-"

Arthur released the gardener with one final shove, sending him stumbling back a few steps. His gaze remained icy, his anger simmering just below the surface.

“You better keep your mouth shut,” he warned, his voice deadly calm now. The gardener nodded frantically, swallowing hard as Arthur turned away, his mind racing.

Fifth.

Arthur sat in the dim light of his tent, the revolver spinning slowly between his fingers as his thoughts churned in relentless, punishing circles. Outside, the camp buzzed with life, the crackle of the fire, the faint strains of a harmonica, the murmur of laughter. It all grated on him, every sound digging deeper into the raw wound festering inside his chest.

He knew this would happen. He’d always known. You weren’t his to lose, not really. People like you didn’t end up with men like him, men who carried blood on their hands, who belonged to a world of running and killing and stealing just to survive. He should’ve been prepared. He thought he’d been prepared. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

It felt like a betrayal. Like some unspoken promise had been broken. But no, there was no promise. That was the sick part of it. You’d smiled at him, written him letters, laughed with him, and somewhere along the way, he’d let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could keep you. That you could be something different. Someone who wouldn’t leave. But now…

Now, you were slipping away, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

His grip on the revolver tightened as memories of Mary surged up, unbidden and cruel. Her soft voice echoed in his head, her face painted in regret. "It’s not you, Arthur. It’s just… my life. It’s not the life you lead."

He’d tried to believe her back then, to take her words at face value. But deep down, they’d festered like an open wound. What if it was him? What if it was always him, his life, his choices, his very existence, that made people leave?

The laughter outside grew louder, Dutch’s booming voice cutting through the night. Arthur’s gaze flicked to the tent flap, to the flickering shadows of the others moving in the firelight. Dutch, carefree as ever, with Molly by his side. Dutch always had someone. Dutch always had a plan. And Arthur? Arthur had nothing. He was nothing.

Why is he mad?

Fucking why?

This was what he expected, wasn’t it? The inevitable. The part where you, the one thing he couldn’t let go of, moved on and married another man. He knew you’d do it, he’d always known. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from showing up every damn time, shaved and clean, trying to look better than he felt, holding onto some pathetic sliver of hope. As if you’d suddenly look at him and say, "Let’s run away" or, "Y’know what, Arthur? I think I want to live with the gang. With you..." The idea was ridiculous, but it had kept him going.

But now that it had happened… why did it feel so fucking wrong? Why was his chest tightening with rage that felt almost like betrayal?

Because it happened a second time, that’s why. His own mind was a whirlwind of confusion, torn between the brutal truth of his life, running, looting, killing, and the desperate, hollow yearning inside him. Was this all he was? Was this what he deserved? The endless violence, the life without peace? He couldn’t even stomach the thought of it anymore.

And because he thought, no, he hoped, you might’ve been different. That you’d be the exception to the pain. Almost like compensation for what he’d endured with Mary. A balm to soothe the wounds she’d left behind. Almost as if fate owed him this one kindness, this gift...

"Is something wrong with...me?" The question tore through his mind, louder than the laughter, louder than the harmonica, louder than the blood pounding in his ears. It clawed at him, relentless and merciless. Why couldn’t he hold on to anything? Why couldn’t he have even a sliver of peace? A family? A future?

The world outside continued without him, Dutch and Molly spinning around in their reckless dance, but Arthur felt a chasm of isolation opening between him and everyone else. His heart thundered in his chest, the silence suffocating.

He replayed the vision of you and your man. A respectable man that wasn't him. His chest burned. It wasn’t just jealousy, not entirely. It was something darker, something heavier. Something that made him slam the revolver on the table.

Take it then.

Take her then.

Arthur froze, shocked at his own brain for voicing that out. He knew what it meant. He’d heard it before, and discussed it with you, in the past.

The Word.

He had dismissed it then, condemned it as if it were beneath him. You had both laughed about it, saying it was barbaric, unfair and a criminal practice. But now? Now, the idea didn’t sound so foreign.

Do the word.

Do it.

People still do it.

Why do you always gotta suffer? Get played like a fiddle?

Man up.

The voice inside him urged, persistent and dark, pulling at something primal in his gut. Why did it feel so right, so necessary, now? Why did the thought of it no longer seem like madness but like the only thing that made sense in this Godforsaken world?

Why didn’t it sound so bad now?

Arthur’s grip on the revolver tightened, his thoughts swirling into dangerous territory. The thought of you slipping away from him, and marrying another man, of losing you forever, made his blood run cold. But if he.....could make you his by this brutal, tradition, would he finally have peace? Would that give him the warmth he so desperately needed?

★ Next

─AN: To be in this fic's tag list, u can always comment below. The comments are always appreciated ^_^

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n109hunter · 2 months ago

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Snippet Sunday - "cat nap"

pairing: sylus x mc word count: 1,043 summary: Still settling into the comfort of this new relationship, a certain kitten seeks a nice warm spot to nap when a rain storm comes rolling in. tags/warnings: fluff, established relationship, early relationship, "wip" (see authors note), a/n: A wip of mine I started back at the start of October that, woefully, I kind of forgot where I was going with it. Well, I know where, but I forgot the specifics and it's making me smad. 😔 However! As it is right now, I think it's a fine, "fade-to-black" fluffy little one-shot. I intend to come back and finish it eventually, once I can herd those thoughts back, but for now I think it's good enough to share.

It was three in the afternoon in the N109 zone, which meant almost nothing at all under its perpetual darkness - except that Sylus was sleeping.

Since they’d more or less ‘officially’ started dating, (and admittedly, before that too), she had gotten used to spending her free time around the Onychinus base - at least, as much as she could without raising too many suspicions. Maneuvering around each other's work and sleep schedules could get a little lonesome at times, but she did take a pleasant contentment in simply being near him.

He’d said before he slept easier when she was around, and while it was perhaps a bit of a strange dynamic, she took pride in the thought she might offer him some peace of mind - that she could protect him when he was ‘at his most vulnerable’, as the twins had told her once.

…Lied, actually, but sentiments were sentiments.

“Here comes the rain.” Kieran said with a tired sigh, looking out the window as he played his number card.

Luke tsk'ed at the play, and put down an assist card. “Thought we’d get through the day without it.”

From where she sat on the sofa across the room from them, she tilted her head back to glance at the window behind her. A few raindrops quietly began to pelt the reinforced, one-way glass, heralding the coming ‘will it or won’t it’ storm that had been hanging heavy over the N109 zone all day. She blinked slowly, eyes feeling slightly heavy.

She felt so at ease and content, it wasn’t that she was tired exactly, but curling up under some blankets just sounded so good. Sometimes she begrudgingly had to acknowledge maybe Sylus was right all along, maybe she was a kitten. One who wanted nothing more right now than to go crawl in a warm bed next to her favorite person for a little cat nap on a rainy afternoon.

Dog earring her page she set her book down and climbed up from where she’d been sitting overlong, stretching her arms high above her head.

“I’m gonna go take a nap,” she said, making her way across the room, “don’t get carried away when you lose, Luke.”

“Hey! I’m still in the lead!”

“Not anymore, you aren’t!” Kieran laughed, slapping down another card, soon followed by Luke’s frustrated groaning.

Now, she didn’t particularly want to disturb Sylus’s sleep, but she didn’t think he’d mind if she just… crawled into bed with him, right? She would be oh-so-quiet, and felt like she could comfortably doze off with ease.

Smiling to herself she recalled the multitude of times she’d snuck into this room before. Not terribly long ago, but how different those days had been. Back then she’d been appalled by him, now here she was eager to tuck herself against him and listen to the sound of his breathing and the distant rain as she fell asleep.

Practically tip-toeing over to his bedside, she tried not to indulge herself in watching him sleep too much, lest he ‘sense eyes on him’ and wake abruptly. Augh but how couldn’t she? He was so impossibly handsome, and honestly pretty adorable when he was sleeping. The soft curl of his eyelashes against his cheeks, his slightly parted lips… No, no, she just needed to climb in and join him.

Though come to think of it… Just crawling into bed was quite possibly a risk, too, wasn’t it?

Eh, she knew what she was getting into. Worst case scenario she’d be suspended in the air by his evol for a few seconds, and she was well accustomed to that by now.

Steadying her breathing she gently lifted the covers and started inching her way onto the bed beneath them. And then stopped short, slowly looking up to see a pair of sleepy red eyes looking straight at her. Funny -and somehow comforting- how she was beginning to be able to simply sense the weight of his gaze when it was on her.

Biting her lip briefly and feigning her best ‘oopsy’ expression, she lifted a finger to her mouth: “Shh.” and scooted closer.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was sleepy, words slurring slightly together, but there was no dissatisfaction in his tone, instead it was filled with warm amusement.

“Don’t wake up.” She told him, unable to restrain the big smile on her face as she started making herself comfy. “I wanna take a nap with you.”

‘Obedient’ was not a word she would ever use to describe Sylus, but nevertheless he… rather obediently stretched his arm out for her to lay her head on.

“Isn’t it a bit early for you to be sleeping?” He yawned, snaking his other arm around her waist and pulling her in closer to him. Her heart skipped a beat, and a shiver ran through her, but then she happily eased against him, letting her arm slide around him in turn.

“It’s a nap- shh, listen.” Curling her other arm up between them she tapped her finger against his mouth to shush him. He gave a small mumble in the back of his throat, but otherwise fell quiet. The sound of rain against his window filled in the silence, joined by an occasional rumble of distant thunder.

“Mm, it’s raining.” He said matter-of-factly, as if unsure if there was some meaning behind her pointing it out. He brought his hand up to wrap around hers, thumb brushing over her outstretched finger to fold it into a fist as he kissed her knuckles. “I didn’t think you were scared of the thunder, kitten.”

She snorted and rolled her eyes, but her breath caught in her lungs at that impossibly sweet gesture.

“I just felt… like the atmosphere was perfect to come take a nap with you.”

“The atmosphere will always be perfect for that no matter what.”

Laughing softly, she wiggled herself a little closer, knees bumping his. “Shh, go back to sleep, I didn’t come here to bother you.”

“Mmm,” he hummed and closed his eyes again. “You couldn’t anyway.” Tilting his head down, his forehead softly pressed against hers, and one of his legs snaked over hers pulling it between his knees. “Besides, I’m not tired anymore.”

#crow's writing.#love and deepspace #sylus #sylus x mc #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus fic #lads mc #love and deepspace fic #lads fic #work in progress

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bg-brainrot · 11 months ago

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The Thousandth Time (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Summary: Astarion and Rogue!Tav make love for the thousandth time. In a bathtub.

Tags: Smut, Slice of life, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, bathtub sex, sloppy sex, seriously just sickeningly sweet smut, Spawn Astarion, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Domesticity is romantic, Hand Jobs, Blood Drinking

A/N: Some context-- I wanted to write soft, gender neutral smut. And by the gods is this soft. I tried to look at what it's like to love someone for so long. In my experience, when you've been with someone for so many years, you still find a lot of love in the little things. which I hope I hit? Anyway, enjoy!!

Word count: ~5.3k

The thousandth time you make love to Astarion, you don't know it's the thousandth time.

It's a day like any other, really.

After a long day at the guild, you've arrived home, a sigh on your lips, a furrow to your brow.

"Whatever is the matter, my dear?"

You compose your expression and turn toward your lover. "Astarion," you start, a reflexive wistfulness to your tone. Gods are you glad to see him after a day like today. "Nothing is the matter. Nothing important anyway. Simply glad to be home."

Astarion gives you a look that says he doesn't quite believe you, but knows better than to pry too deeply into issues you'd rather not bring home. "Very well, darling. But you know I'm all pointy ears. Especially if Nine-Fingers has been difficult again."

"Ugh," you say, wincing in annoyance. "Do not say her name right now."

The vampire gives you a bright, toothy laugh. "That bad, eh?" You nod. He walks toward you, arms outstretched. "Mmm in that case, shall we call it an early night tonight?"

You dive into the comfort of his arms, holding him to you, inhaling his fresh, familiar scent. It feels like the day's troubles melt in his cold embrace, and the tension in your body finally relaxes. "That might be nice."

"Dinner first?" he asks, pulling away from you slightly.

You look into his warm crimson eyes, feel that same warmth reflected in your face. Of course, he’d check to see if your mortal needs have been met. "No need, I've eaten. How about you?"

Astarion brings a hand up to inspect your face, this way, then that. It’s as if he’s examining you for injury, not assessing if he can partake in a bit of your blood. "Mmm, you seem a tad tired, love."

"You know I'll manage. Besides, get my blood while it's still boiling with rage," you say, craning your neck for him in response.

"As delectable as that sounds,” he begins, letting go of your face, tracing his fingers along your neck. “I think a bath and bed ought to come first."

You want to argue the point, make sure he's fed to the best of your ability, but the yawn that escapes you is irrefutable. With nary another word, his hand is on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bath.

"Would you like to join me?" you ask him as you open the door. Your expression is calm, the question harboring no hidden intentions. Any other day, you may have raised an eyebrow at him suggestively, begun taking off your armor in a tease– but you're tired, simply not wanting to relinquish the feel of his arms around you.

"Certainly, if it keeps you from falling asleep in the tub…" he trails off, looking at you warily. He appears torn, somewhere between keeping you from drowning and keeping you from resting.

You give him a wry smile. “Imagine that. After felling all manner of beasts and men, finally succumbing to the tub.”

Astarion offers you a reluctant smile in return. “My love, I swear to every god above and below, if you die in any manner even remotely that ludicrous, I shall have to pretend not to know you at your funeral.”

“That’s fair,” you say, holding a hand out to him. “Best to make sure that doesn’t happen then, don’t you think?”

The man can’t argue with that, nor does he seem to want to. After an entire day away from each other, this closeness is exactly what the two of you crave. So he takes your offered hand, and follows you into the bathroom.

It has been years since you had added a tub big enough for the two of you in your house. While the two of you had accrued wealth enough for an entire bathhouse, you’d settled for a more modest setup. At least, modest in Astarion’s eyes.

The floor is made of the finest marble tiles, the walls of intricately laid and patterned brick. And in the center of the room, is the room’s main attraction: the enormous, magical tub. It’s long enough that you could comfortably lay down across the entire bottom, wide enough that you have to extend your arms to reach both sides. The outer edges are infused with enchantments to improve your bathing experience, and the tub itself is made of the highest quality crystal that gold can buy.

Once you enter the room, you activate the heat and water sigils along the basin’s edges and turn back to Astarion. “Would you mind grabbing some soaps from the shelf?”

He gives you a lopsided grin, eyes crinkling with amusement, but still moves to do as you ask. “Would you also like me to bathe you while I’m at it?”

“Oh, would you?” you ask half-joking. You begin to strip your armor off, piece by piece.

“Mmm,” he murmurs, picking out a few of his preferred scents from a shelf on the wall. He’s accumulated quite the collection now, enjoying mixing and matching as his nose guides him. “That could be arranged.”

You’re almost halfway through your armor when he returns, bottles of lemon, bergamot, and sage soaps in hand. “Ah, you know how much I love bergamot,” you say, smiling at it fondly, pausing halfway through undoing your leather straps.

“I know,” he says, placing them next to the tub before turning his attention fully to you. “I also know that you need help with that armor or we may be here all night.”

Holding your arms out wordlessly, Astarion starts to unbuckle each and every strap from the front of your padded armor. As he releases you from its confines, you take a deep, relieved breath and say, “Thank you, love.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he murmurs, leaving a long lingering touch along your now exposed collarbone. “While you strike quite the image in your armor, I think I much prefer you without.”

You laugh, feeling quite light in the now steaming room. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind is straying quite far from rest, Astarion.”

The vampire shrugs, beginning to tug at your undershirt and small clothes with each of his hands. “Merely stating fact, my darling.”

With a few smooth movements, he’s taken off the last of your clothing, exposing every inch of you to the warmth of the room and the heat of his gaze. He seems just about ready to bury his head in your neck, begin covering every piece of you in kisses, when you speak, “Excuse me, are you planning to enter the bath in your house clothes?”

Astarion looks down at his own garb, the comfortable satins and silks of a man who spent the day lounging at home. When faced with your words and, ugh, logic, he says with a sigh, “Would you do the honors?”

You need no more invitation before your hands are on his soft, flowing shirt, running along it appreciatively. “Is this new?”

“It is,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “Do you like it?”

“It feels magnificent,” you respond, beginning to undo its buttons. “I may just have to steal it for myself one of these days.”

His lips purse at you. “You know, you could simply ask, darling.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you taunt, pulling up on the shirt's edges, tugging it up and off of him. Now, faced with the plane of his ivory chest, your fingers act on instinct. They trail down his shoulders, trace the line of his pectorals, drop down the center of his stomach to the waist of his pants.

Astarion gives you a low, approving noise before asking you wryly, “Now whose mind is straying?”

“Not mine,” you respond, pulling his pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. “My hands are just so tired, I’m sure you understand.”

“Surely,” he responds, as he pulls each foot out of his pant legs. “How is the water?”

The bath is steaming by now, visibly fogging up the room, but still, you bend down to skim your hands along its surface. “Ah, it’s warm,” you say, gripping the edge with one hand. “Maybe too warm?”

“No such thing,” he responds, and one of his hands lands next to yours as he bends down to feel the water for himself. The man gives a happy hum before asking, “Shall we then?” Then his now-wet hand is smacking your butt, his head gesturing toward the waiting water.

“Excuse you,” you say, indignantly, as you turn toward him. “I'm tired.” But you don't feel tired. Not after running your hands over his cold skin. Not after feeling the quick contact of his hand on your backside.

“Not to worry, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

As in, bathing or–? Luckily you don't have much more time to think about it before he’s lowering himself into the tub. Even with his quick movement, even with the water’s slight obscurity, you easily note that Astarion’s cock has stirred in interest.

Ah. While you hadn’t meant to illicit anything by inviting him… it’s certainly not unwelcome. It’s a good thing that your exhaustion is all but melting away under his loving touches.

Acutely aware of his sharp gaze on the length of your back, you turn to face away from him, grab the edge of the tub, and slowly enter its warmth. As was customary in your baths, he would start with your back, so you take a spot in front of him, leaving just enough room for him to settle behind you as he pleases.

Too much room clearly, as Astarion immediately scoots forward, extending his legs to each side of you. You feel his hardening length graze your backside as he does so and can’t help the smile that curves your lips.

"Astarion, dear,” you start, placing your hands on each of his knees under the water. “Are you certain you want to bathe me?"

“And why wouldn't I be?” He leans closer, planting a soft kiss along your spine.

You debate backing up into his groin to prove a point but instead shake your head. "No reason, I suppose."

He begins by lathering his hands in a mixture of soaps, carefully measured out by eye and feel. All the while, you sit before him, hands on each of his calves, thumbs repeatedly rubbing the ridge of his muscles. While he’d had a nice, calm day today, his calves are always so tight from sneaking about– and it’s the least you can do for the man that’s bathing you.

Then his hands get to work.

At first he drags both hands along your back, once, twice. Once he’s made sure that soap covers every inch of you, he starts massaging you, working the soap into your skin, kneading into your sore muscles.

Astarion knows your body so intimately and, after so many years of tending to each other, he rubs all of your tightest spots. His knuckles press deep into your neck. His fingers work around your upper back. His thumbs dig underneath the edges of your shoulder blades, working out the knots he knows lay beneath. And, by the gods, if you thought you’d been melting under his caresses before, now you’re practically a puddle.

You can’t help the noises that come out at the sensation of his nimble fingers at work. Your shoulders ache from a long day of sneaking, stabbing, and general tension of dealing with people– the relief is palpable in the way you relax into his touch, grip his legs, and release several breathy moans.

And with each moan, you can feel his cock growing firmer against you. After the first few, you can feel him shift closer with every noise he draws from you. Knowing your affect on him has always done something to stir the fire in you, and this time it has you shifting uncomfortably as heat blooms between your legs. The both of you spur the other’s building lust, all the while the fresh scent that Astarion’s concocted permeates the air.

Then, when it’s clear he’s done with your back, thoroughly satisfied with each gasping breath of pleasure, his hands drop from your shoulders. They tail down your back, playing along your spine. And, in an almost leisurely motion, they wrap around your torso, where they finally settle on your chest.

I don’t think this is a relaxing bath anymore, you think distantly. Yet you’re unable to resist leaning into his palms, arching into his touch.

Sensing your shuffles, Astarion curls further into your back, almost entirely flush to you now. His fingers feel their way to each of your nipples, first gently brushing against them, then thumbing over them each in turn. They respond eagerly, perking up under his delicate sweep.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your head back to him slightly and raising an eyebrow. “What are you doing?” Your tone isn’t exactly admonishing– your voice comes out too quiet, desire muffling all other emotions.

His hands trail down your chest, past the surface of the bath water, settling on each of your thighs before he responds, voice low, lips inches away from your ear. “Making sure that every single centimeter of my beautiful darling is clean, of course.”

“Astarion, I thought you would be, ahh… taking care of me," you say, barely holding on to your trail of thought as his hands dip between your legs, brushing your sensitive core.

“I am taking care of you,” he whispers, finally closing the remaining distance between your back, his front. At the feel of his stiff cock pressing against your back, you give an involuntary gasp. He seems to enjoy your reaction, taking a moment to slowly grind the entire length of his hardened arousal along your backside once, before he settles between your cheeks. “Unless you’d rather leave all of this stress pent up, my dear?”

You’d been tired– been ready to bathe and head off to bed. But something about this man never fails to ignite the fire in your heart– or your loins. “I suppose not,” you murmur, releasing Astarion’s calf, running up his leg with your fingers, landing on his arm, gripping it closer to you.

“I knew you would see reason,” he says, taking your grip as guidance. His hand moves down to begin stroking your heat, building up steadily to the fast-paced rhythm he knows you like. In the water’s buoyant embrace, his actions feel a touch more fluid, his fingers more silken.

It has taken time experimenting together to reach this place– one of utmost security and intimate knowledge of each others’ bodies. But now that you’re here, you’ve found that Astarion’s agile fingers are obscenely precise in their movements. Like he knows exactly which pins to tumble to unlock your utmost excitement.

So you can't help the way you buck into his touch, nor the way the water sloshes around you both in response.

"Careful, love," he says, hand stilling. "We don't want to make a mess this time, do we?"

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you remember the last time this had happened, how the floor had been practically flooded. You should agree with him, make sure that such an incident doesn't occur again. But the front of your mind is wholly occupied, thinking only of how he's stopped moving his hand, how being careful may mean that he takes it too gently. "Mmm, we managed to clean it up well enough," you respond, jerking your hips back, pressing against him with need.

Astarion's laughter rings upon the bathroom's stone walls, before it turns into a groan as you roll your hips once more. His voice is a bit huskier when he responds, "You know we’re going to regret it later.”

You smile back at him, satisfied with the noise you’ve elicited. “Sounds like a problem for later, doesn’t it?” Then your hand squeezes his arm, motioning it back down to your now throbbing arousal. “For now, what was that about releasing my stress?”

“Oh very well… in that case, let’s find where you ache most, shall we?” Astarion murmurs, dipping his head, placing a kiss on the base of your neck. “Here?” Your shoulder. “Or perhaps here?” Then his hand settles back between your legs, fingers touching you in a rather delicate caress. “Or maybe here?”

You hum a noise of approval as his . “Oh, there.”

His fingers close on your swollen sex, rubbing languidly as he whispers in your ear, “Mmm, darling. So much tension…” A bit more pressure. “I must simply…” A bit faster pace. “Massage it all away…”

If anything, his touches cause you to grasp at his legs harder, all of the muscles in your body responding in kind to his ministrations. Your back arches instinctively, earning an exquisite groan from Astarion. So when his next stroke causes you to clench, you lean into it, grinding your ass back into the full length of his erection, sliding easily in the water’s low friction.

His other hand finds its way to your hip, helping you match his pace as you continue to rock into him.

The two of you fall into a beautiful, raucous rhythm, each open and generous with your vocal pleasure, the water’s regular splashes punctuating each movement.

“Yes, yes, gods, Astarion.”

“My sweet, you’re the only divine thing here.”

Then your words begin to lose sense, your rhythm begins to falter, and it’s clear that you won’t last much longer under his caring fingers.

You also know that Astarion hasn’t been tended to nearly as well as you have.

So you move to turn toward him. With how his full length twitches against you in urgency, your own nimble fingers ought to return the favor.

Astarion stops you, placing his unoccupied hand back on your chest to hold you in place. "Ah ah ah. Love, I'm here to help you."

"You are helping,” you start, pushing back against his hand. “But I don’t want to leave you like this.” ‘This’ is obvious as the man clearly exercises every ounce of self control he has judging from the visible veins on his arm, the way his legs squeeze reflexively around you each time he strokes you.

He gives you a reluctant groan, one that does nothing to hide his desire. “Must you always be so selfless?” His hand doesn’t release your chest though, and he begins tracing delicate, wet circles around one of your nipples, as he murmurs, “Fine, just let me continue.”

Staying in place for him, you reach back with one hand to feel for his cock. It’s almost unreal how naturally you slot around him, the way your fingers circle around its girth. The entire length, inch-by-inch, the pattern of his veins, the sensitive lip of his head– they’re all intimately familiar to you now. As is finding just the right grip, the right pace.

When you start to pump him in earnest, Astarion can't help but shudder, his movements losing their steady, pulsing beat. In losing his pace, he takes on a new one– erratic, a bit fumbling, but utterly intoxicating.

You're both stoking each other’s fires in tandem, wildly offset in your desperation to touch each other more and more and more.

The water feels almost cool compared to your heated core, to the sweet friction you're building together.

Astarion's face tilts into your back, grunting as he strains to right his tempo– his forehead presses against you, his cool exhale grazes your searing skin. His chilled touch is a reprieve in the sweltering fog of steam and heady lust. Hearing your sigh of relief, he seems all too willing to make more contact.

His lips crash onto your back roughly, and his fangs nick your skin. An involuntary shiver runs through your body as you imagine the pleasure his drinking evokes from you. As you imagine the man behind you lapping at your neck, moaning in satisfaction, flushed pink with your very blood–

"Take some blood,” you offer, breathless. Imagining would never be enough, you find yourself craving the real deal. So when you say your next word, it comes out more pleading than you intend, “Please."

“Whatever my dearest desires,” Astarion replies, voice low and rumbling. He removes the hand from your chest and places it on your shoulder, holding you in place as he places his lips at the crook of your neck. His nose rubs gently against your fleshly washed skin. “Mmm, you smell so good.”

Then his fangs pierce you.

When you first began your relationship, you hadn’t intended to enjoy his bites as much as you do, but after years and years of them, the pain hardly registers now. All you feel is close– So very close to the man you would gladly give your lifeblood to.

He draws a gulp, and you feel the blood course through you, into him.

Another drink, and heat builds in you as you feel his cock grow harder in your hand, his veins more prominent.

A third long pull of your blood, and you feel his fingers quicken at your aching arousal.

You jerk into his hand in reaction, trying to seek an outlet for your pleasure. Your mouth emits a whimper– you hadn’t been comfortable whimpering with Astarion at first, but after he drew one out of you, he couldn’t get enough.

He still can’t, and you feel his lips curl into a smile at your neck, his fingers move with more urgency.

All the while you continue stroking his length, fingers sloppy in your own hazy state. It doesn’t seem like you need your usual dexterity though, because Astarion is practically writhing with newfound reactivity. Drinking blood always leaves him especially sensitive.

One last shaky swallow and he removes his fangs from your neck. But not his mouth. His tongue begins lavishing your puncture wound furiously as he struggles to hold back his approaching peak.

With the way he haphazardly tilts his hips into you, it’s all too evident to you that he’s reaching his limit. He’s not afraid to tell you so either.

"My sweet," he all but moans into your ear. "I–I can't last much longer. May I?"

You know what he means, and you honestly can’t last much longer either– you’re positively light-headed from a mixture of bliss and blood loss. So you stop your movements, nod your addled head at him.

He removes his hands from your core and neck, reaching out to your legs. Pulling them out and apart, he shuffles behind you, moving impatiently.

Realizing he can’t do this alone, he gestures, motioning for you to put your legs up.

Still a bit dizzy, you carefully place each leg on either side of the tub’s edges, hooking yourself in place by the ankles. It feels a precarious balance, but you can hardly care when you’re this eager to have Astarion inside you.

Astarion seems just as eager, rubbing his length against your ass hungrily as you get into position.

Perched and ready for him, the man is quick to help once more– his hands grip your asscheeks and lift in a swift movement. You’re particularly buoyant in the water, and you rise higher than either of you had expected. Your hand instinctively reaches out, gripping the edge of the tub to brace yourself, and you hear Astarion give a deep chuckle from behind you.

Holding back your own almost giddy excitement, you try to compose yourself for him. Angling your hips up, you’re almost floating on the water for a moment as Astarion lines the tip of his cock with your entrance.

However, you’re instinctively clenching a second later when a pair of your lover’s fingers tease at your opening. You barely avoid clamping your legs back together at the sensation.

Recovering from the tickling probe, you look back to see a lust-drunk fanged smile, lips smeared with red. "Astarion, please,” you mutter. “I can't balance like this all day."

"Come darling, I know you’re quite talented," he taunts, easily gliding his fingers back in, curling until you truly do begin to lose balance.

"Astarion," you breathe out, clutching the side of the tub even harder to stay afloat.

Then his fingers slip back out, replaced a moment later by the head of his cock. “No need to worry, I have a seat for you right here.”

His palms cup your backside, his fingers squeeze, as you lower your hips back down, taking in his entire, slick length effortlessly in the water.

“Now isn’t that better?” he asks, grabbing your hips with one hand, the other finding yours on the side of the tub for support.

“Mmm,” is all that you manage, as you adjust to the sudden fullness. You haven’t lain with anyone else in so long, it’s hard to remember a cock other than his. Still, you can’t help but feel like he settles in you just right. Especially when you both slot together neatly, you taking him to the hilt.

Astarion drops another kiss on your back. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm,” you mumble. Now that you’re securely held in place by Astarion’s hips flush to yours, your legs hanging off the tub’s edges, you place your second hand back at your aching arousal. You begin to stroke yourself back into the same fervor Astarion had you in moments ago.

After a small, deliberate thrust of his hips, testing how you rise and fall in the water, Astarion starts moving against you. It’s slow at first, the water rippling out from you both in small waves. Then his hips rock back, only to drive back into you with sloshing force.

“A–ahh!” Sweet hells, he knows exactly how to hit your most sensitive spot. You had already been so heated, but now, with your lover’s full, hardened length pressing into you? You feel dizzy with pleasure.

Years of lovemaking, and you’re still in awe of how well he knows your body. It’s more than his previous experiences culminating in some kind of skillful paramour. No, this was built through time, trial, error, effort.

So as this gorgeous man you call love bounces you up and down in his lap, you feel yourself coming undone. Your breaths come ragged as you ride his cock, water spilling out of the tub with each and every buck. Your fingers clench the tub, barely holding on as you feel your pleasure coil tighter and tighter.

Astarion places kiss after kiss down your back, and you hear him murmuring, "Gods you're perfect." A harder kiss. "You feel so good." Another thrust. "Each." A nip at your skin. "And every." A thrust. "Time." Another kiss. "I–I love you."

For your part, you’re finding entire sentences difficult. With the feel of him throbbing inside you, the way his lips feel along your back, each roll of his hips, you're truly only capable of a few phrases. "Astarion." A splashing bounce. "I love you–" A loll back of your head. "Oh hells–" A dip of your hips. "I love you too."

When your peak finally runs through you like a shockwave, when you clench around him in ecstasy, those very same words are still on your lips. "I l–love you."

He moans at the sudden tightness, the muscles that now hold him deep within you. "Darling," he breathes. "Oh love. I can't–"

Astarion means to say that he can't hold on much longer. He'd already been so close, holding back only to keep your pleasure going. So you reach down to his fingers on your hip, as best as you can while still hanging on for dear life, and squeeze his hand. A wordless affirmation, a plea to join you, as he always has.

And it’s that silent communication that has his fingers lacing through yours, his neck craning back, his hips stuttering.

When he comes, there's no pretense or performance. There hasn't been for many years. So when you look back at his face in a hazy fuzz of emotion, the expression you see is utterly unbridled.

It's a look of sheer pleasure– his perfectly pale skin flushed a light rosy color, his usually impeccable hair stuck to his face in a mixture of sweat and water. His eyes are shut, his mouth agape as he spills into you.

So enraptured are you by the mundane beauty of his climax, that you’ve strained too far from your precariously balanced position. Your foot unhooks from the tub’s slippery edge and you fall onto Astarion’s lap with a large splash as he finishes. You’re both left panting and wet in the wake of both your and the tub’s peaks.

Water drips down your face, all of the soap bottles have been knocked from the edge of the tub. The high you’d felt just moments ago feels doused in the stark reality of making love in a bathtub.

However, when you feel Astarion’s breathy laughter on your back, feel his softening cock twitch with his last few thrusts, you know he’s still in fine spirits.

You stay together for a few moments as you both collect yourselves. Water is wiped from eyes, your second leg comes back into the tub, and several deep breaths are had. Once you’re relatively sorted, Astarion pulls himself out of you with a long, happy sigh.

The man falls back from you, sitting against the end of the tub in a tired flop. Then he’s patting the water in front of him, motioning you to join him in some post-coital cuddles.

You don’t need much more of an invitation.

Floating through the now much lower water, you stop just in front of him. Movements relaxed, you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and scoot into his waiting embrace.

"So," you start, looking at the wasteland of water and strewn soap bottles around the tub. "Looks like we made a mess."

"I told you we would," he says, closing his arms around you, pulling you against his chest.

"I know," you say, leaning into him comfortably. Your body is truly exhausted now, but your mind is a buzz of joy. "It was worth it though."

He laughs into your shoulder, squeezes you tighter. "Feeling better, I take it?"

"Gods yes," you say, tilting your head into his silver hair. "Thank you."

"Oh my sweet, it was my utmost pleasure," he replies, and you can feel his smile on your skin.

You both lean back, grinning at each other like fools. The smiles stay, even when your lips meet in a soft, wet kiss.

You will need to clean the room, the tub, likely your bodies once again– but all you can truly feel right now is content. Enjoying Astarion’s gentle fingers as they trace a pattern onto your skin, the warm water all around you, you very nearly forget that today was merely a day like any other.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, it was messy and wet and silly– somehow, it was sweet, caring, and loving all the same.

The thousandth time you made love to Astarion, you didn't know it was the thousandth time.

Just as you hadn't known your tenth thousand kiss, nor your hundred thousandth 'I love you.' Were anyone to ask you about them, you might not even remember the days or events surrounding any of them.

What you do know is that each individual moment holds no less importance, that the affection shared between you doesn’t diminish with each recurrence.

You’re unable to quantify your love, nor would you want to. All you really want is Astarion– his soft lips, tender hands, and whispered words of love– until your dying breath.

#astarion #astarion x tav #fanfic #rogue + rogue #astarion x reader #astarion fluff #astarion fic #love at first knife #astarion fanfic #astarion x gn reader #astarion x gn!tav #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion smut #soft smut #soft astarion #gn smut

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solar4seekstron · 2 months ago

Text

Before and So Forth Chapter Six: Megatronus

Transformers One!Megatronus x Cybertronian!GN!Reader

Solars Indie Series

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight

Introduction Indie Series

Contents: 16+

TW/Tags: Pretty normal chapter, more drama with the harem, Vector knows something is up, Megatronus goes into boyfriend mode, Reader is growing distant from Starscream and Soundwave that’s why reader is acting the way they do with the two, this chapter is really just to build up the next and the 8th chapter, the ending was a pain to figure out my god. That should be all.

You couldn’t sleep that night. Both full of excitement and fear. Sentinels words still looming over you.

But soon it will be the last day of your courtship. Even though that means that your relationship might change with the other bots…Primus why couldn’t you be born as a minicon and not fall in love with anyone?

When the lights from your window hits your optics. You realize you’ve been staring at the ceiling for hours.

And so you sat up, grabbing some energon, and making your way to the tower. You knew you had training with Megatronus today. And then meet up for another meeting with Starscreams team.

You were dreading it honestly.

As soon as you got to the tower, soon opening the front door after the guards accepted you in. You were surprised to to Solus and Vector Prime speaking amongst theirselves as a few guards stand by.

You started to worry. Why would the primes be near the entrance like this?

You descided to take a different path down the hall.

You cant deal with the primes right now. As you continue to walk you’d soon feel a larger cervo on your shoulder.

You stopped.

Turning your helm to see its vector prime. You soon spoke. Surprised he stopped you as he had a smile. “M-my Prime.”

”Young Y/N. Do you mind if I have a chat with you. Alone at my training quarters?”

You tried to hold back a gulp as you slowly nod. “Not at all My Prime.” You responded flawlessly as his grin only grew.

You’d follow him to his training quarters. Wondering what he cold be needing you for.

You both soon made it to the room. He opened the door and allowed you in first as he held open the door.

Once inside, he closed the door and you could hear the locks behind you. You turned around and he just stared down at you.

Pulling out his swords.

Your guard was already up. But now it’s spiraling to a high. You backed up. Your cervos already on the handles of your swords as you looked at him.

”Now now. I just wish to practice your sword training.” He starts to walk tot eh side. About to walk circles around you.

“I’m honestly ashamed I didn’t see a proper as well as a sword fighter alongside me and very few others.”

He’d continue as you watch him. Your cervos remaining on the handle of your swords as he kept speakin. Probably trying to catch you off guard.

“Ever since the start of this week. My dear brother Megatron has been..Distracted. I thought it could be Solus not making up her damn mind about her feelings with Megatron and a few other primes….But now I see why.”

He stopped behind you. His swords on both sides of you. You glanced at one of them. Seeing your own reflection as well as him looking down at you.

”Tell me.” His other sword was now under your chin. Making you look up a bit as the other went to your stomach. Going to your lower stomach. You stood still as he contnued to speak.

”If I were to add you to m team. My training sessions instead. Would Megatron not miss you so much? I’ve seen your records. But. I’m not that too impressed with that…scar.” His sword by your helm now closer to the side of the scar. Gently gracing it with the side of the sword.

Very slowly you pulled your swords forward a little as he spoke once more.

”If you can somehow defeat me. Then I wont remove you. I just cant start having the strongest primes in our rank be distracted now. Should we?…….So…what will it be?”

You were fas to move. Pulling out both swords and moving your helm and body just right from his swords.

Slashing at his swords and kicking at his lower stomach. You then had to land on your cervos and jump back to your pedes.

Grabbing your swords off the ground.

Soon in your battle stance as you stared at him. He then stood up fast. He looked almost surprised as he stared down at you. You having one sword infront of you and the other behind you.

Vector then spinned his swords a couple times before moving forward for the first attack. You were fast to block his attack with your swords. You both staring at each other as you kept your grip.

“Already with one of your Primes? Guess I invoked you well little one.”

You two kept at it. You mostly dodging his advances of cutting you while you were able to put in a few good cuts.

At one point you threw your swords over him. Using your strength to grab his shoulders with your cervos. Moving your body above his then kicking him back by his chest. Landing on your pedes and picking your swords up in a fast motion. Back in your battle stance as you hear him grunt.

”A fast aren’t ya.” He looked back. You kept still. Waiting to see what he’ll do next as he picks up his sword.

You were almost out of breath. You both at this for a while as he didn’t seem to be struggling too much. But before he can do anything.

The two of you then heard the doors on the other side open. Guess he forgot to lock those.

Megatronus soon came in. You can tell even with his mask on that he was angry as he stared at the prime. You stood there. Your arms to your sides still holding your sword. Vector doing the same as he stared at Megatronus then spoke.

“You think you can try to take away one of my best soldiers without my knowledge?!”

He made his way to Vector. Passing you as you just watched. Megatronus getting into Vectors face as he spoke.

“Did Solus put you up to this?”

Vector just stared at his. Clenching the handles of his swords as you slowly put you swords back in their handle in the background.

”What has she poisoned you with to make you go after them? Tell me!”

Vector stayed quiet for a moment before casually spinning his swords.

Then putting them back in his holders. “Brother. You are distracted. I was simply just testing the distraction. I must say they are a strong worrior. So what else can it be?”

He starts walking towards you. You took a step back for a moment. Megatronus noticed and stepped between you both. Vector speaking once more.

”Oh. I see that’s how it is brother. For sham. But I suppose it makes sense.”

He walks around Megatronus. Back to you before placing his cervo on your shoulder once more. “Solus didn’t send me. But I’m sure her being worried of your “Distraction” wasn’t a coincidence. Be more careful you two. Because who knows how long this’ll last.”

He mad his way out of the room. Leaving both you and Megatronus alone. The room stays quiet. You looked down before looking back at Megatronus. Who’s cervos were clenched as he stared at the door. Before looking down at you.

Your frame soon facing him as you stared up at him. “Megatronus?”

He lets out a breath before kneeling down before you. Placing her larger cervo on your lower back and takes off his mask after setting down his spear.

His mask then coming off as his white optics look down at you. You’ll never get tired of looking at his optics. He’d then look at the door before looking back at you. He then finally spoke.

”Are you alright?” He asked. You slowly nodded before looking at the door. You’d the speak. “We should…head to training now. Right?”

He’d not That is until he gets a comm by Zeta Prime. Appearently he needs to speak with him along with the other primes. Megatronus then spoke to the comm, turning away a bit .

“I’ll be right there.”

He looks back at you. You reached a cervo to rest on his cheek. “Are you alright?”

He turns his helm and gently kisses the palm of your cervo before speaking. “My apologies sweetsaprk. I’m not sure why but I’ll look into it. It would appear that our secret wont be one of a secret for much longer. I suppose that can help with the last of our courtship.”

You let out a soft sigh and looked down. “But what if-“

He stopped you with a soft kiss. Before pulling away and speaks. “Until then. I’ll comm you. Training will have to be canceled and we’ll-“

This time he was stopped when you kisses him. Gently pulling and holding his cheeks gently. The kiss soothing and passionate. You both closing your optics as you both let out soft moans. His cervo still on your lower back. He was the one to pull away before speaking.

”Until then, Sweetsaprk.”

With that he stood up and put on his mask. And made his way out of the room.

You stayed in there for another moment…Well. You had other..”Interesting” mornings this week before this one. Which is strange now that you really think about it.

From there you made your way to the other door and unlocked it. Surprised to see Starscream on the other side. A frown on his face with optic ridges furrowe.

His cervos on his hips as he stared you down. You only looked up at him with wide optics.

”Me and You..are going. To. Have. A. Chat.”

Soon he grabbed your arm and dragged you with him. He started dragging you to his own meeting you and places you in a chair. Holding both of your arms.

Practically man handling you. You started to panick as he pulled a seat and sat in front of you. Crossing his arms as his moves a leg over the other crossing them.

He just stared down at you for a moment before speaking. “I should’ve known this was happening.”

You gulped as he continued.

“Behind everyone’s back. Behind mine! After the promise I made to you! When were you going to tell me hm? When were you going to tell me? WHEN?!”

He sat forward at the last part.

Causing you to lean back a bit. You thought. Maybe he doesn’t know the full story?

Ok just don’t overreact. This can be anything.

“Um….What did I not tell you?” Starscream looked almost like he was huffing before his optics growing a brighter red and let out a small growl.

Standing up fully and slamming his cervos on the arms of your seat as he spoke. His voice a bit louder.

”About you and your special relationship with that Prime!” He keeps staring down at you. You keep looking at him worried. He then lets out a growl. “With Zeta Prime!”

For a moment your face relaxed. Oh-

Then out of no where you started to laugh. You weren’t expecting him to say him of all primes. Starscream was still at that positio. His cervos on the arms as he leaned over you. His intake open a little as he looked at you.

His optics dim as he shows a confused expression.

You keeep laughing. You speaking inbetween. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You think me and Vector Prime?” You chuckled.

“What cause we both use swords.

Starscreams dermas had a frown as he stared at you. You’d then wipe away a tear of joy before moving under his arms as he just watched you. then standing fully straight when you got closer to the door as you spoke.

”You really thought I’d be going around with him.

You’re terrible at eavesdropping Starscream. Oh and I’m still mad at you by the way. So.” You are about to touch the button to open the door until Starscream grabbed your cervo and pulled it closer to his chest.

”Don’t think you’re getting off that easy. What where you and him speaking about?”

You’d let out an annoyed sigh as you tried to pull your cervo back. “That’s non of your business Starscream. He just needed to speak to me about my form. That’s all I’m allowed to speak about.”

You said casually to taunt him. You were able to finally pull you cervo away and walk out Starscream watching you as you walked away.

You rolled your optics as you whispered to yourself as you stomp away.

“Unbelievable.”

———————————————————————————

Later you were in the lunch room. reading a data pad about the latest events of the Quintissons. As well as a report by Rumble who has been on a few advantures.

That surprised you since you still can’t go anywhere thanks to your last mission and the scar on your cheek.

Primus it doesn’t even feel like it’s been a few days although it feels like weeks instead.

You drank some energon as you kept reading. Hearing the door open but not paying much mind. That’s when you heard someone sitting next to you. It was Frenzy. He then spoke as you heard Rumble behind you grabbing some energon. “Are you mad at Soundwave? What he do?”

You just sigh and placed the data pad down as you respond.”I am Frenzy but that’s because he wasn’t thinking straight. That’s all.”

He was silent for a moment before speaking. “It’s because he wants to frag you huh?” You choked a bit on your energon before looking back at him. He lets out a chuckle as rumble did with energon. The two starting to eat as you looked at them.

You’re not sure what to say. Returning to drinking your energon.

“He had a crush on you ever since we started working for the high guard you know. Give him a chance and just listen maybe? He’s been pretty sad since.”

You listened to him carefully. You’d sigh and stand up. “I need some air.”

”We don’t breath like organics.” The two would say.frenzy grabbing your cervo pulling you back to eat with them once more. You’d groan and sit back down.

Eating with the two as Rumble starts talking about his recent adventures.

Unknown to you Shockwave was standing at the door with a cup of energon. Walking in and sitting next to you. Rumble and Frenzy in their own conversation.

Not noticing him.

Shockwave sat there an started conversation with you. It lasting for a while. Your meeting with Starscream for another while. And it was nice…Being with them.

———————————————————————————

A few hours have went by. Still no comm by Megatronus. Shockwave had to leave to continue with his work and the cassette twin already left to Soundwave. Once alone you stood up and made your way to your meeting in Starscreams meeting room.

That went as good as you can…expect it.

Youre pretty sure Soundwave was staring you down from across the table and Starscream will glare at you with every chance. At least they’re good at not making it obvious.

You mostly just looked over data pads as you listened to Starscream yap about his plan. Knowing it wont be easy for you to go anyway.

Even though your scar is pretty healed up.

But what was the real kicker was when Soundwave kicked you at the leg. Telling you to stay. You looking at him with cervos clenched on the table as everyone else left soon out the door. Happy the 4 hour meeting was over.

And so…”Why wont you talk to us?!” Soundwave angrily asked. You responde.

”Soundwave it’s been a day. And my reasons are my own. Not yours.” Soundwave let out a growl before standing out of his seat.

His cervos against the table while Starscream stood at the head of the table.

”I am not doing this with the two of you.” You said as you stood up. “I am a grown bot and I will descide.” You say the last word a bit louder as you looked at Starscream.

Who just crossed his arms. “Maybe when this war ends. If it ever does! Now if you both will excuse me! I have to go.” Soundwave stood up and watched you before making his way to you.

But before he could grab your arm you were able to get the door to slam in his face.

You continue to walk down the hall. Primus what is up with the mechs today. You walked past a few guards. A few of them waving to you. You waving back.

But out of no where. You finally got a comm from Megatronus.

You made it to a more private room close by and closed the door. Answering the private comm. You spoke with a bit of a shaky voice.

“Hello?”

”Y/N meet me in my sleeping quarters…Tonight is the night.”

Not me giggling and kicking my feet under my desk as I type this out. I hope y’all liked this everything in here was to help out with building up the next two chapters. Also I decided on the last chapter I’ll create an alternate ending where the primes live. Lots of you have been asking for reader to live happily ever after with daddy prime.

Sorry that the ending is so weak it was killing me all day on how to end it. But I hope the rest before what somewhat enjoyable. Y’all can let me know in the comments lol. Sorry again but I hope you guys enjoyed!!!!

As always a repost is appreciated and I hope you guys have a good rest of your day!!!!

#x reader #transformers #transformers x reader #transformers one #transformers one x reader #megatronus x reader #tf megatronus #TF Before and So Forth

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theother-victoria · 5 months ago

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LOVE IS CONCOCTED FROM ESTERS AND KETONES- CH.01: AVENTURINE

SYNOPSIS: he never expected to find home again.

CHARACTERS: aventurine

TAGS: bittersweet veering more towards bitterness I’m sorry guys, menace aventurine, 2.1k+ wc,

TAGLIST: @tragedy-of-commons, @mitsvriii, @harque, @akutasoda, @flowery-jazz, @hazyue, @gabile18, @khoncore , @lxkeeeee , @mewnekoice-mecha , @nariism

NOTES: aven fans are allergic to happiness case in point: me

special thanks to @milksnake-tea for doing the math on how much a perfume bottle costs in the hsr-verse and @akutasoda and @phantovia for letting me use their ocs aika and yeri respectively! additionally thank u to my pookies @tragedy-of-commons, @akutasoda (once again), @https-sourlimes, and @kazuhaiku for proofreading this chapter!

M.LIST | FIRST | NEXT

The first of the new customers comes in on a slow Tuesday afternoon.

It’s just you and your two assistants in the shop. They’re restocking some of the bottles on the shelves and you’re in the lab as per usual, this time reformulating an old scent that didn’t sell well on its maiden voyage. You distantly hear the front door chime ring and the voices of your two assistants welcoming them.

You stare down at the flask in front of you on the table and the array of raw materials scattered around it. Eh, might as well get up and help out. You haven’t made any progress in the past half hour either.

With a sigh, you get up and unlock the door separating your lab from the store. Your usual greeting spills from your lips like you’re on autopilot.

“Welcome, dear customer. How can I be of assistance today?”

You trip over your words a little bit at the end as you take this customer’s appearance. On first impression, it’s a bit gaudy- like a peacock trying to impress. An expensive leather coat with fur like he’s trying to flaunt his wealth and a spade cutout right in the middle of the chest like he’s trying to draw attention to it. His face is also obscured by the brim of his hat and his pink sunglasses so you sadly can’t get a glimpse of his appearance. You haven’t seen him before- you’d remember a getup like that for sure.

“Nothing in particular. Just doing some window shopping.”

His voice is rich and syrupy like honey and it pulls you in. You don’t miss how your two shop assistants are eyeing him and you send them a look over your shoulder. They giggle under their breaths and scurry away to busy themselves around the shop.

He picks up a black tester bottle and sprays it a couple times around his pulse points before walking around the store again. It’s pricey, but it’s a popular perfume among young men, especially those that like to party from your observations. Not surprising, considering how creamy, spicy, and decadent it smells. It’s a crowd-pleaser.

One of your assistants, Aika, passes by with a box of perfume bottles that you received in an earlier shipment. She pauses and gives you a mischievous look.

“He’s hot,” she whispers as he passes by. “Looks like he’s interested in you too. I see him eyeing you up. Don’t pretend like you haven’t either.”

You merely glare at her, which she laughs at. He gives you a knowing look and a wink, further proving her point. You pointedly ignore it.

He seems happy with how the scent reacts with his skin chemistry and the dry down because he walks back to grab a bottle before setting it down by the register. You pause what you’re doing in the meantime to ring him up.

He hands his card over without a second thought. Black card, you note as you swipe it. It’s got some weight to it too. You catch a glimpse of the name on the card and the IPC logo in the corner before handing it back to him. Aventurine, of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department. Now you have a name and affiliation to go with the face as well.

When you hand his card back, his gloved fingers ghost over your hand for a second longer than necessary. The warmth of his hand seeps through the thin leather and you have to force yourself to ignore it and bid him goodbye.

Another one of your shop assistants watches him go as well.

“You know, he didn’t seem like he particularly loved that perfume. Maybe he bought it just to get close to you?”

“Yeri…”

“Just saying. Don’t act like you didn’t notice it too.”

After that, he doesn’t leave you alone. You quickly learn that he’s an IPC executive, which takes you by surprise with how he’s attached to your hip at any given time. He’s still busy with work, but he spends a lot more time at your store than you’d expect- at least a visit or two every week. He always leaves with something as well. At this rate he’s going to have a bottle of every perfume in your store…

“He’s more like a… how do I put it? He’s more like a… clingy stray cat that you took pity on one day and it wouldn’t leave your side after that,” you complained to your shop assistants one day during lunch. Aika snorts and steals a bite of your food.

“No harm in playing along with him. He’s rich, after all. Savor this opportunity.”

He also likes to flirt with you and hog up all your free time. He’ll walk in with a loud declaration of “(Name)! I’m back!” and wrap his arms around your shoulders and waist the moment he sees you. Over time, you’ve gotten used to it and you’ll do business as usual with a grown man clinging to you like some house cat.

(Your shop assistants still tease you relentlessly though.)

In return, you turn him into your unofficial guinea pig to test your upcoming perfumes on. He doesn’t mind. In fact, he seems to take pride in it.

You gently grab his wrist and spray something onto the exposed skin. He doesn’t resist- just lets you do your thing.

“Tell me your thoughts.”

“My friend, you already know what I’m going to say. Everything and anything you create is bound to sell out. When it comes to storytelling, your nose is unmatched.”

“Give me real constructive criticism, Aventurine. Stop trying to butter me up.”

“I’m being honest here!”

With the frequency of his visits, the distance between you quickly closes. He insists you refer to him by his name without any prefixes. You don’t particularly care what he refers to you by, but you’ll frequently catch him on the phone talking about “his beloved perfumer”.

One day when there are no customers in the shop, he comes in. There’s no loud proclamation of your name or the now-familiar sound of expensive leather shoes against the floor as he searches for you. He looks a little different as well. His hat is gone, as well as his pink sunglasses, letting you see his face unobstructed for the first time.

His eyes. They’re the first thing to draw you in. They’re a hypnotizing shade of magenta and blue that you’ve never seen before.

What pretty eyes, you think. But you avert your gaze in case he catches you staring. Strangely enough, he doesn’t meet your gaze. He takes a particular interest in the view outside the window even though he’s seen it a million times already.

You hand him a faceted golden bottle. The turquoise liquid inside swirls slightly as he examines it. A thin turquoise band runs around the circumference of the bottle and he hesitates. It looks a little familiar, for some reason…

“This is a new scent I created recently. Smell it and tell me your thoughts.”

He sprays it on his wrists before tentatively taking a whiff. Instantly, the scent of bergamot and the sea hits him.

No, the smell of home hits him. There’s a faint citrusy smell that smells vaguely familiar to a hardy fruit that bloomed on the scraggly trees during the spring and the earthy scent of sand hits him like a punch to the gut. He can still recall the sensation of the sand stinging his eyes from the harsh solar winds and how despite his sister’s best efforts, he could never fully get it out of his clothes and hair. It stuck to him like a second skin.

Sometimes, he finds himself wishing that he could’ve filled a bottle with sand and brought it with him so he’d always carry part of home, especially on those lonely nights.

Then comes the rain.

He can hear the sound of the rain hitting the rooftop of the tent he called home as a child where he’d celebrate a few lonesome birthdays, followed by the stench of iron and rot and the sickening squelch of his footsteps in the drenched sand as he flees, leaving everything he’s known and loved behind.

For some reason, he can taste the saltiness of the sea as well. But on a planet as desolate and barren as Sigonia-IV, there are no bodies of water. Is it the ocean or rather his tears instead?

He rubs his wrists together to make the top notes and memories dissipate faster. They fade to something richer and deeper, more opulent and decadent. More fitting for who he is now. The spicy scent of expensive alcohol is both familiar and sickening.

There’s a new syrupy sweet scent that emerges that meshes so well with the alcohol he almost doesn’t realize it’s there until he takes a second whiff. His eyes widen and he almost chokes on it.

Honey. It’s the sugary sweet scent of honey.

Even now, he still can’t escape his past.

He picks up on a resinous scent and if the honey made him feel nauseous, then the scent of amber makes him sick to his stomach. All for the Amber Lord. That damned phrase reminds him that he still isn’t free, imprisoned by gold and jewels instead of chains and shackles now.

The decadence and richness of the top notes have died down and it now smells warm and intimate, like a hug from a loved one. He thinks of his sister and the long nights he’d spent cuddled into her side to stave off the extreme cold. He can’t remember what her voice sounds like anymore, or what she smelled like, or how she even looked. But he remembers how safe, how loved, he felt in her embrace.

He hates every aspect of the scent. It’s too close for comfort. (Did you enlist the help of a Memokeeper for this?)

But he loves it at the same time. He’s heard the stories of how your perfumes are stories in their own rights, shifting from one scent to another to evoke foreign yet familiar emotions in the hearts of their wearers. He’s enjoyed all your perfumes so far, but hasn’t found something that really resonated with him up until now. Clearly, he’s underestimated your nose.

You fidget a bit, a little unnerved at his silence. He always has something to say. For him to be silent is so uncharacteristic.

“So… how is it?”

He continues to stay silent. His chest feels tight and his left hand has subconsciously clenched into a fist behind his back.

“I’ll take your entire stock.”

The words make it past the lump in his throat and he forces a smile.

You freeze.

“Sorry?”

“You heard me. I’ll take your entire stock.”

“... It’s still under development though…”

“I don’t care. Just don’t release it to the general public. How much per bottle?”

“The same as the rest of them. 112,000 credits for the full size.”

To your surprise, he hands his card over without a second word. After a moment of hesitation, you swipe it. The little ding tells you the transaction went through. Most, if not all, of your customers are wealthy. They have to be in order to afford your perfumes. But the top one percent of the one percent… they really are in a different realm.

“You do subscription services, right?”

Dumbfounded, all you can do is nod. He lets out a satisfied hum.

“Perfect. Sign me up for it.”

Sensing your shock, Yeri graciously takes over for you while you head to the back to process what just happened. This scent was just you messing around! If you did end up selling it, it would’ve only been in limited quantities because of how… unique it smells. Not as unique compared to some of your wares, but niche enough to separate it from your more palatable scents.

Yet here you are with a man that has already paid for and demanded several bottles… Better get to work then.

Your shop assistants have already finished processing the transaction and Aventurine is standing outside the store now. He gingerly lifts the bottle out from its packaging and sprays it a few times onto his pulse points. He knows he’s being greedy by hoarding all the bottles and not letting anyone else have it, but he doesn’t care. The delusional side of him thinks there’s no way this fragrance WASN’T crafted for him specifically. The notes, the bottle design, everything.

Fabric holds scent longer than skin does. His mind drifts to the old rag that was his father’s, safely stored away.

He won’t be able to return home for a long while. But this perfume must be what it’ll feel like when that day finally comes and his time runs out.

PERFUME NOTES (yes I am making a perfume for every character):

TOP NOTES: bergamot, petrichor, sand, sea notes

MIDDLE NOTES: tonka bean, sandalwood, vanilla, rum, bourbon, whiskey

BASE NOTES: honey, amber, skin musk, iso e super

INSPIRATION: Versace Eros, Initio Psychedelic Love, and Initio Side Effect

enjoyed this? the taglist is open!

@ theother-victoria, do not copy, repost, modify, translate, or feed to ai

#—stellaronhvnters.#victoria.writes #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr #honkai star rail #aventurine #hsr fanfic #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr fluff #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x you #aventurine x y/n #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x you

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syoddeye · 1 month ago

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the warren, ten - curious

price x f!reader | 3k words | series page | ao3 tags: mine/underground, gaslighting, minor injury, dual pov a/n: john takes you on a trip.🔪

"There she is. Mind locking it behind you, darl? We're closing early."

John doesn't look up from the register drawer. The bills of cash look like monopoly money in his hands. He licks the tip of his thumb and sorts through the stack, the creases in his brow cutting deep. When he's done, he tucks the tender into a scuffed leather envelope.

Embarrassment warms your face as you realize you've never handled this part of the job before. Not even when you've closed alongside him. He must always take care of it, or leave it undone until later. It stings a little. Peels up a sticking corner of your faith. He must not trust you to manage the till. You bite back a comment, shelving it for later. You have enough on your mind, thoughts teetering precariously like a cup filled to the brim, held in only by surface tension.

"Heard you went on an adventure today."

"I did."

"Gotta tell you, love, hate that you didn't ask for a ride," He sets the envelope down and slots the register back into place. He fixes you with a heavy stare, chin tucking toward his chest. "And that you went on foot."

"It's not that far. I've walked further, in the desert." You smile, trying to ease his mood, and remind him you aren't as helpless as he may believe.

But it doesn't work. If anything, your nonchalance hardens him further.

"Yeah? Are there bears in the desert? Cougars?"

It's strange. No, not strange. This is not out of character. John's been like this since you met. Set in his ways, immovable in his convictions, the master of his domain. However he thinks things should go, how the world should spin, it's only a hair beneath the natural laws themselves. Still, you thought you moved beyond that with him and fell outside his mantle of authority. The slight condescension in his tone and body language? It needles you. Your hackles rise. It makes you think of your dad. Of Dusty.

"There are cougars, actually. Coyotes, too. Snakes, bighorns…" You fold your arms. "Even met a surly jackrabbit, once."

John stares hard, thumb picking at a sliver of laminate peeling loose. The silence stretches, taut as a bowstring. When he finally speaks, his face softens, tired lines overtaking the sharp ones. Worry seeps through the cracks like water through stone. "That so? Well. If you've taken on the desert before…"

He pushes off the counter then steps around and into the gap. The offer is clear, and you meet him halfway, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's a quiet thing, your apology tucked between tongues. When you part, you rest your head on his chest. His hand glides up your spine.

"Sorry to make you worry."

"S'alright. Stopped worrying when Soap texted that he ran into you outside the library. Bookworm couldn't wait for her next read, eh?"

That sneak. Soap must've texted when you were distracted on the drive.

Your eyes fall to the tortoiseshell button on John's shirt, rising and falling with his breathing. A loose thread sticks out from it. You relate to it.

"Yes and no," you say, lifting your head. "I woke up curious." You lick your lips, thinking about what you'd told Soap in the truck. How he reacted when you said you might get to know everyone better, should you winter in the Panhandle. "If I'm going to stay here, I want to learn more about the area."

"S'pose the library's the place to learn. Though, you could've asked me, too."

All roads lead back to John, and you'd taken the turn willingly the moment you got on your knees for him. The moment you fell into his bed.

"You were busy."

"You couldn't wait?" He echoes and it purses your lip.

Your hackles stir again. Your fraying nerves are to blame, not him. You'll feel better once you let it out.

"Are you busy now?"

"Need to make some deliveries. Ride with me."

Another truck, another conversation about madness. You help load the bed with odds and ends. John's occupation as shop owner and local Renaissance man keeps him busy. He points out a lamp he rewired. Hand tools he sharpened. A bicycle, sporting a new chain and front tire.

The comfortable rhythm between you returns, but you feel his thumb at the edges of you. Prying like he did with that bit of laminate on the counter, trying to ease you open. He wants to know what compelled you to walk the miles to Ponderosa, to sit in the library all day.

He knows you well enough to give you space, to make you feel safe before asking. That's one of the reasons you think you might love him.

John drives, you talk. You tell him everything, skipping over Phil's ominous text and the hold waiting under your name. The hold becomes a random book plucked off a library shelf and how its defacement spurred a morbid fascination with the collapse that swallowed nearly a hundred men.

The lie slips out smoother than you'd like. You hate that it's easier now, that you can meet his eyes as you reshape the truth. He doesn't twitch or look over suspiciously. He just listens. It makes it easier to tell yourself that omission and white lies—they're not deceit, not really.

But when you get to the part about your discovery, you waver. You stumble over your words, starting and stopping like burrs catching and pulling at the fabric of your story.

John glances at you then, quick but pointed. You tugged a thread and he felt the give.

Your explanation is shoddier the second time around.

"...and he looked exactly like Alex. I swear."

John doesn't respond immediately. He pulls the truck off to the side of the road, stopping in front of a mailbox at the end of a long drive. Without a word, he turns the engine off, climbs out, and heads to the back.

You hear the faint click of the bicycle wheel as it spins, the dull thunk as he pulls it free. Watching through the side mirror, you see him push it to the mailbox and prop it there. He stands beside it for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck, shoulders slumped.

When he turns back and catches you staring, he gives you a small, uncertain smile, sheepish and laced with pity. You drop your gaze to your shoes.

He thinks you're crazy, too. Perfect.

You're a quarter mile down the road when he finally speaks.

"That's quite the claim."

"I know. I know how it sounds. But John, if you saw him, you'd think the same thing. It's uncanny." You sigh. Every word is a shovelful of dirt. "Soap suggested it was his grandfather or something. Do you know if Alex has roots here?"

"Well, we all have roots here," He smiles a little and reaches over, brushing a hand over your knee. "But if I remember correctly, I believe he was born and raised here."

You nod. That is a comfort. It should be a comfort. It's not that you don't believe John. It's more so you want proof and know you're not sure you want to ask the man in question. Are you from here? Did your grandfather nearly die in a mine collapse?

Frustrated, you lay a hand over John's, tracing the cracks in his knuckles.

"That disappoint you?"

You shrug. "I guess I wanted a mystery."

He chuckles. "Like one of your books, no doubt."

"I suppose so." Though the unease lingers, stitched tight to your stomach lining and unwilling to unwind, you manage to smile. "I heard there's a memorial."

"There is. It's not for—"

"Tourists. Yeah, I know." His lip twitches, and you rush an apology into the gap. "Sorry for interrupting. It's just—who knows. I might not be a tourist in a few weeks. I want to know this place and the people."

That lands differently and with intent. It instantly smooths over your poor manners. His fingers stretch, drumming thoughtfully on the inside of your knee.

"We can visit, if you'd like. You'll see why they don't put in the brochures."

Your eyes widen, surprised he's indulging your curiosity.

"I'd love to. When should we go?"

The truck jerks as he brakes on a patch of gravel, a small spray of rocks pinging against the undercarriage. Dust blooms behind you like smoke.

He grins, a glint of something wild in his eyes. It's conspiratorial like the two of you are teenagers sneaking off to do something you shouldn't.

"Still light out, isn't it?"

The Sawtooth Crest Mine doesn't feel so different from the ghost towns scattered across the Great Basin. A handful of sagging structures, burnt or crushed into rubble by weather and time. Others lean precariously on the verge of collapse.

You pass signs designating offices and a warehouse, bunkhouses, and a rec hall. You scan the empty windows and doorways as if you'll find answers or at least a hint.

The woods creep in, decades of reclamation around you.

After all the effort to get here, the memorial feels like a joke. A slab of stone with a tarnished plaque bolted onto the front. The text is largely illegible, worn down, and that's what's left. It looks like someone took a pickaxe to the rest of it.

You step closer, brushing your fingers over the pitted stone. John stands back, letting you have the moment. It feels intrusive, like standing at a stranger's grave. You suppose you are, in a way. Some bodies are reported unrecoverable.

The thought makes the back of your neck itch.

John waits until you're done, then gestures toward the mine itself. The main entrance gapes wide, its opening barred with iron rods and sheet metal, wired tight like a broken jaw. While you stare through the gaps, imagining further in, John steps to the side, casually working the padlock on the access door. A click, the chain slithers to the ground in a pile, and the door swings open.

"What are you—Isn't it dangerous?"

"Been here loads of times," he grins. "Drinking with the lads, mucking around. C'mon, we won't go far."

The grin isn't much comfort, but when he beckons, you follow. He leads you into the yawning dark, pulling out an emergency light clipped to his keys, throwing a small pool of light that splashes over your feet and up the closest section of wall. You stick close, your shoulder brushing his arm as the daylight behind you fades.

As you walk along, he talks. He points out the skeletal remains of machinery, rusted carts, and tools that have sat untouched for decades. The damp air thickens with the smell of soil and rust. You reach a junction where two tunnels branch off from a central chamber, a lift cage sitting in the middle, waiting.

John points to it, voice bouncing off the walls as he explains how it worked, how the whole system of pulleys and tracks kept the mine running. About the hoist operators, and how they were 'jokingly' referred to as Saint Peter.

It's leagues more than Dusty ever shared, more than you ever overheard at the company picnics where he kept you in the dark as his smiling but simple wife. The irony isn't lost on you—standing here now, in the dark, learning more about your husband's trade from another man than you had in years.

"How do you know so much?"

John shrugs, his proud smile cast in shadow. "Talking to old-timers at The Fox Hole. They've got stories for days, especially after a few pints." His hand worries the cable like he's feeling for a pulse. "Nikolai's worse than me. The know-it-all." Then, he steps closer, his hand finding the small of your back, pulling you to him. He presses a brief kiss to your forehead.

"Hate to be crass, but I've got to take a leak. Got your phone?"

You fumble it out of your pocket, holding it up. The model is too old for a flashlight, but you turn the brightness up as far as it'll go and point it at the ground.

"Good," He sounds far too at home as if you're not both standing in the belly of a dead mine. "Stay put. I'll be right back."

He glances between the tunnels, making his choice, before he starts down the left passage.

You watch the dark swallow him whole.

"Don't go too far."

There's an answer, but it's more sound than speech and further away than it should be.

And then his footsteps recede.

The glow of your phone barely lights your shoes. You shift your weight, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the low simmer of unease in your stomach from boiling over into something embarrassing. The flesh clenched between your teeth heats anyway.

John isn't far. He's just around the corner. If you walk down that tunnel, you'll see.

Your feet move, body ahead of your brain, the hair on the back of your neck standing straight up.

Then you catch it—nostrils flaring. Wet dog, mixed with straw. Brimstone and iron. Your shoulders tighten, a shiver running down your arms, goosebumps raising. Folding them across your chest, phone pointed out, you continue, taking tiny half-steps. Shuffling.

The tunnel warms as you go. The walls sweat. Silver flecks reflect the dim light like the creature's eyes you saw out your window.

"John?" You mean to call out, though it shakes out in a whisper. It's like trying to scream in a nightmare, stuck under the thick ice of sleep. You try again. "John?" No better.

Behind you, a metallic creak cuts through the silence. You freeze. Then your feet find full strides, the shuffle turning into a hurried walk. Pebbles slide underfoot, and you glance down, stopping short when you see it—a sandy tuft of hair, coarse and matted, lying just beside your foot.

The phone light trembles as you crouch, about to pluck the tuft from the ground.

And then another noise.

A low, guttural rumble rolls through the tunnel. You snap upright, spinning toward the direction you came from, holding your phone out as if it's an actual torch. The light catches nothing, and the growl comes again. Deeper. Closer.

You run.

The light swings wildly as you stumble forward, colliding hard with a set of support beams. They groan and slightly give at the impact, a thick cloud of dust erupting straight into your face. You cough and spin, lunging down the left passage when the tunnel splits again, painfully aware of how hopelessly lost you're becoming.

Something brushes your elbow, and every nerve in your body sounds the alarm. You jerk forward instinctively, your feet sliding on loose gravel. The ground shifts, and suddenly, you're falling, the cold floor of the mine rushing up to meet you in a bone-rattling thud.

You wake to a hand stroking your head. Your cheek rests on denim, rough but warm beneath you, and the rumble of an engine. You realize you're horizontal, stretched across the front seat of John's truck, your head resting on his thigh. The road bumps and jars you as the truck barrels forward.

"John?" Your voice cracks on his name.

The hand on your head pauses, then resumes, gentler. You tilt your head, blinking spots from your vision, and catch his worried glances. His face is tight, his jaw set. "You're alright. Took a spill, I think. Found you halfway down a tunnel in a heap."

You push upright despite his protests, wincing at the pull in your muscles. Your hand drifts to your forehead, where it throbs, and you flinch at a smear of sticky, drying blood. "What…?"

"Just a scrape. I checked it. Must've clocked yourself on the way down."

The truck jolts over a bump, and you steady against the door, staring at the trees blurring past. The sun is dipping low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet as John speeds down the logging road. How long were you out?

"Thought I told you to stay put," John chides softly, a nervous smile twitching his lip. "What were you doing?"

The memory floods back. The growl. The chase. Something touched you.

You stare straight ahead, fingers feeling nothing when you check your elbow.

Sometimes our minds play tricks.

"I…I don't know." You force a shrug, licking your lips. "I don't know."

John sees to your forehead. He dabs at the wound with a damp cloth, then spreads a layer of antibiotic over it with the tip of his finger. Twice, he asks if you're up to date on your tetanus shot, and twice, you confirm you are.

When he smooths the bandage on, his thumbs press it into place. He gently kisses it, then tilts your chin and kisses your lips the same way.

"Skittish thing," he teases, though his eyes carry a tinge of regret. "Shouldn't have left you alone."

Before you can respond, he's kissing you again, deeper, his hands sliding down to steady you atop his kitchen table like you might slip away.

You don't slip at all. You end up underneath him.

~~~~

While his girl sleeps off the consequences of her walk, his lesson leaking out of her, John summons his Watcher.

Kate is a good woman. Useful. Steady under pressure, keen as her old man, maybe more. She shoulders the responsibility and knows better than to complain. Her father wore his duty like a crown and bore it as a source of pride. Kate treats it as a job. One she always gets done.

But she pushes it.

"Why the fed, John?" she flicks ash from her cigarette. "He was bound to give up and leave."

John picks his teeth. "Didn't like the way he looked at her."

Kate narrows her eyes, dragging smoke into her lungs. "Looking at a pretty woman isn't a crime. There'd be plenty more carcasses if it was." She exhales sharply. "You broke the conditions of the pact."

"The conditions," he sneers, "state I can harvest the unfortunates and ne'er-do-wells. Vagrants. Show me an agent of the state with clean hands, and I'll cough Mr. Graves up right now."

Her lip curls at that, distaste evident. "A technicality, then. Still don't like it. All it got you was one meal, and it invited attention."

He ignores her insubordination. "You got information on the second course?"

"Kyle Garrick. Sent to investigate Graves's disappearance…" Kate reads, stubbing her cigarette on the edge of the counter. "And to look into other disappearances in the area."

John takes the picture Kate offers and stares at the younger man, oblivious to his new headshot. "He's looking for me, I presume?"

"Naturally, but…"

"But what?"

"He's looking for her, too."

Smoke curls between them. This fed business—it's irritating, inevitable. They've done this song and dance before. No matter the reason, the thought of some young buck sniffing around his doe sets his teeth on edge.

"Let's orchestrate a meeting then," John finally says, peeling the loose strip of laminate off in one smooth go. "Use this curious streak of hers to our advantage."

#the warren #price x reader #john price x reader #price x f!reader #john price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x f!reader #do not glitch on me again tumblr please

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dellalyra · 2 years ago

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Family Formation Part Two

Summary: the first years take a shopping trip, and Megumi calls you mom. Satoru is a little shit, but the best dad.

CW: Motherhood, pregnancy, swearing, talks of menstruation, dad gojo, intense sweetness

A/N: I absolutely did not expect part one to blow up like that but I’m so happy it did!!! I’m gonna turn this into a mini series but pls beware it’s not gonna be in any kinda order, just snippets of you and Gojo’s little puzzle piece family. Comment if u wanna be tagged in future parts!

Part One

You sit in your office on campus, about to finish up to go meet your husband for dinner with the kids (they’re your students, but really, they’re all your kids). Just as you stand up from your desk, the door opens and in walks Megumi, hands in his pockets and radiating teenage angst and uncertainty.

“Hey honey.” You say, slipping your purse over your shoulder, “did Satoru send you to walk me across campus again, because if he did, next time you have full permission to smack him across the head and remind him his wife is a special grade sorcerer too - just because his spawn is currently living inside me doesn’t mean I can’t walk.” You knew your husband meant well, but since your pregnancy was discovered he had all his students on Guard-My-Wife duty when he himself wasn’t available.

“He did, but actually I was going to come to talk to you about something… I have a favour to ask you.” He says as he takes your purse off your shoulder to carry it himself (you know there’s no point in arguing with him, he’s as stubborn as they come and almost as protective of you as Satoru). He’s kicking his shoes against the floor and suddenly he must think the strap of your bag is the most interesting thing in the world. You knew these signs, after 10 years of raising this boy you knew this was him feeling uncomfortable to talk about something.

“Of course, sweetheart - what do you need” A quick squeeze of his shoulder and a small smile reassuring him is spread on your face as you coax him into telling you.

“So eh, do you remember when we came to you and Satoru and you took us shopping and we got stuff and then you showed us both how to make our beds and showed Tsumiki how to braid her hair and all that stuff?” He could barely meet your eyes, this boy was so emotionally constipated you were never sure how he got any words out.

“Of course I do! I remember setting up your room, and we got that sweet nightlight that had the moon and stars for your room and a cloud one for Tsumiki - do you need them? I think they’re in the garage somewhere I can get Satoru to -” you were cut off mid sentence by him.

“No it’s just that, today I saw Itadori in his room and he had no sheets because the only ones he had were being washed and then Nobara is, eh, dealing with some - on her, eh, it’s her time” (you could see him floundering and flushing at trying to tell you Nobara is on her period, so you thought you’d save the rest of his face from becoming the same colour as Itadori’s hair).

“Okay so Yuuji needs bedsheets and Nobara is on her period - is that the issue, honey?” You ask, trying to figure out why you needed to be involved, apart from maybe a quick store run.

“It’s that and like, Nobara keeps getting cuts on her legs after she showers and Yuuji didn’t know what conditioner was so I thought maybe, since you were able to, yaknow, sort things out for me and Tsumiki you might be able to help them? It’s dumb, nevermind, they’re fine. They can figure it out. I’ll walk you to Satoru.” He scratched the back of his neck, turning to walk out the door. But it had all clicked in your mind, what he was hoping you would do.

“It’s not dumb, sweetheart. It’s really sweet, I think I know what you mean and how I can help. So, let’s get to the common area, I’ll text Satoru to pick us all up some food and we can all eat in the dorms together tonight, okay. But first let’s get the other two and we’ll drive to the store, yeah, we can get some things there and also - this little one is telling me very sternly I need to eat some Smokey bacon chips.” You grabbed his elbow, knowing he’s probably FAR too old to let you grab his hand like you did when he was 6 but still wanting to give him the smallest hint of physical affection and guidance since you knew what he asked if you took every ounce of not-fainting-from-embarrassment he had in his body. He was, in his roundabout, beat around the bush way, asking if you’d play mom to his friends who are either completely without family or miles and miles from home at only 15.

After rounding up Yuuji and Nobara and settling them into the back seat of your car, with Megumi up front with you, you drive off. As you get there, you see Nobara clutch her stomach a tiny bit, noticing the symptoms of period pains from a mile away - even with it being 6 months since your last one (thank you Satoru and baby).

“Boys, go find me Smokey bacon chips please, Nobara, will you help me find some baby clothes?” You shoo the boys away, giving you and Nobara some space for girl time, or what you hoped she would come to think of as mom and daughter time.

“Okay so, while we look at these, I noticed you’ve some cramps, have you got pads or tampons and stuff? Some painkillers, a heating pad?” She flushed as you ask, but you knew with a girl like Nobara who eerily reminded you of a mixture of you and 15 year old Shoko, would much prefer a straightforward and direct approach.

“Um, I have some pads sensei but to be honest, they’re kinda annoying for training and missions but, I don’t understand how tampons work like I mean I’ve tried so much but I can’t get it right. I didn’t know what painkillers to use so I snuck one of Gojo-Sensei’s migraine meds, which helped but also made me sleep for 12 hours.” She rambled on, in typical Kugisaki fashion as if these period related things were personally attacking her and she wanted nothing more than to smack them down. You guided her to the period products and told her to get what she needed, get some new razors with aloe strips and all other things she could need that her mom would usually shop with her for, and you’d give her some tips on tampons when you all got back to the dorm, you also told her that if she ever wanted to go shopping with you that you’d love that, to which she hastily agreed with and pointed out that desperately needed some new bras and you arranged for next weekend, adding in that you’d pop into some baby stores and let her go wild on some clothes so your kid could be ‘as fashionable as Aunty Nobara’ which made her jump with glee and talk about how she’s definitely going to be the coolest aunty because you’re gonna be the only other positive influence on the kids life because ‘Megumi has a stick up his ass, Itadori is a moron and Gojo-Sensei is a cringey dumbass, no offence I know he’s your husband, but you and I gotta make sure this kid doesn’t end up like them.’

You soon found the boys and shoved Megumi and Nobara off to find an assortment of candy your husband had text he wanted when you informed him of the store trip and your conversation with Megumi,

“Yuuji, honey, while we’re here - do you need anything? Some new clothes, towels, bedsheets? Satoru is paying.” You didn’t want to just drop Megumi in for telling you the things he did, so you tried to be inconspicuous with your guidance.

Yuuji sheepishly listed off some items he needed, as you picked up some new sheets for him, asking if he was too old for Spider-Man sheets to which he vehemently disagreed because he thought they were the sickest sheets and got the matching comic strip lamp to go with it. Yuuji never failed to bring a smile to your face, being the ray of sunshine he is, his thoughtfulness evident as he took the cart from you and even offered to carry you around the store because he ‘didn’t want you to get tired because sensei you’re GROWING A PERSON LIKE WHAT’.

In the car on the way back, as the kids poked fun at how much had been spent on their teachers card (it was a black Amex, it wasn’t even going to make a dent on the finances), you insisted the kids stop calling you sensei and call you Y/N instead, you never liked being ‘Sensei’ anyway.

Pulling up to the dorms, you open the trunk and everyone starts taking their bags from the back. Satoru swans out the door and dips you into a kiss which Megumi cringes at, Nobara and Yuuji squeal saying how sweet it is, and you return with enthusiasm.

“Well there’s the world’s sexiest momma to be!” He says spinning you as you giggle and he pecks a small kiss onto your belly. “It’s okay baby, daddy’s here now, no more boring Megumi to deal with okay, he’s going to turn out exactly like your Uncle Nanamin if he doesn’t lighten up! Maybe he just needs a kiss too!” Your husband tries to kiss the raven haired teens forehead but quickly gets smacked away and grumbled at with some choice words you’d usually scold him for using.

“Did you guys buy out the store? Which bag has the mochi?” He starts rummaging through the bags, pulling things out until you grab his hands and place two boxes in them which he immediately opens while

You move to take a bag in each hand until Megumi and Gojo grabs them from you.

“Ah! No lifting sweet pea! That’s why we’re here, you’re carrying precious Gojo cargo in there.” Satoru says as he pokes your belly.

“You shouldn’t lift heavy stuff like that, Mom, you’ll hurt yourself, plus Itadori can probably carry all this stuff in himself.” Megumi adds, in a rare occurrence of him agreeing with your husband.

You fully expected Yuuji to run to grab as many bags as he can handle from the trunk after this comment and carry them and probably you inside with a smile and a gentle but loud ‘I got this Sens-Y/N’ and Nobara to chuck the rest of her bags at your eldest son.

But it never came.

You just saw two jaws hanging on the floor, staring between you, Megumi and Satoru.

Megumi just made a judgemental face at his classmates and Satoru just stared at them as if they grew two heads.

“You two okay there?” You ask, jokingly checking their temperature with the inside of your wrist.

“Fushigoru - Fushigoru you said - you, what?!” Was all that came from Itadori before Nobara burst out with,

“You just called her Mom!”

A look of realisation flashed across Megumi and your face, they had never heard him call you mom before, something he’d been doing since you patched up a swollen fist after a fight at 11 years old with dog print bandaids and a soft kiss to the bruise.

Megumi fought the flush on his cheeks and rubbed the nape of his neck.

“So? That’s what you call a woman who raises you, dipshits.” This only seemed to confuse them more.

Gojo just stood back watching the scene through raised eyebrows and a little smirk.

“RAISED YOU? What?” The two other teenagers burst out with questions and sheer confusion, as Megumi silently pleaded to the gods that they would shut up, but instead got help in the form of you and Satoru.

“Satoru and I have been raising Megumi and his sister since he was 6, and that’s why he calls me mom, and why we never said this is our firstborn, because Megumi and Tsumiki were our kids first.” you said pointing between the three people you mentioned.

“How could you not know? Can you not see how much my darling eldest son adores his dearest beloved Papa?” Satoru says scooping Megumi into his arms who proceeds to flail about like he’s being kidnapped by a curse and say how he has never called him that ever and never will.

While your boys were busy teasing and arguing, you turn to the other two who were watching everything unfold in disbelief.

“One of the other reason I fucking hate being ‘Sensei’, because I’m also your best friends mom, not just your teacher - and I’m here for you kids too. For anything, okay? Satoru too, even if he acts like an ass sometimes. ”

You lead them both inside, knowing the scuffle between your son and husband will take some time judging by the swearing from Megumi and the cackling laughter for Satoru.

“Megumi, take it easy on dad, he’s growing old and feeble.” You shout over your shoulder.

“But if he calls you mom, why doesn’t he call Gojo dad?” Itadori asks.

“Oh he does, just not around you guys. He doesn’t want you both thinking he’s the favourite because we raised him. He gives him a Father’s Day card every year and Satoru texts him ‘goodnight kiddo,’ every night and used to sit in his room in our house for hours after we moved him into the dorms. But don’t tell him I told you that - and don’t tell Satoru. He’ll just milk it for months, and they’re both bloody useless with emotions. Nobara, pass me the smokey bacon chips will you, please honey? Let’s all watch a film and eat before I make your sensei drive us home to our house. Do you guys wanna have dinner at our house on Saturday? You could stay over?”

Taglist: @sassy-cat-in-town

#gojo x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #anime #jjk x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #yuuji x reader #platonic!yuuji x reader #platonic!Nobara x reader #platonic!megumi x reader #dad!gojo

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sunnie-writes · 1 year ago

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cupid's chokehold.

pairing: jax x cupid!gn!reader

tags & tropes: fluff, shameless flirting, fell first/fell harder

summary: you were absolutely confused because of two things: one, you got transported to a random dimension and became a totally different person, gaining the title of a cupid, and two, you had fallen in love at first sight with the most sarcastic purple rabbit man ever. well, at least you didn't felt like complaining on the second part.

tell me, sunnie!!: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA... anyways, hiiiii:3 i got a new fandom added to my brain, injected it into my veins and now i am addicted. so, this funky little guy didn't actually catch my attention at first but then i watched some edits and was like "HMMMMMM i mean yeah sure" and then i decided to check tumblr, stumbled on a fic of him and went "OH. OH." yk?? anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this bc i wrote it instead of sleeping and i have to wake up early tomorrow el oh el!!1!1!1!1

warnings?: kissing, suggestive(?) i mean it's just neck biting but idk........

first of all, you don't know how the hell you are... here, nor why you've been stuck in this place for two weeks already.

it's a colorful world, saturated to the maximum amount possible. you know, the type to burn your eyes if you stare at a specific spot for too long. it also looked like some kind of fever dream, with all the toys scattered and the way different people? characters? looked like.

not like you can say much, you have heart shaped pupils and you're wearing something that looks like an ancient greece tunic. also, sandals. you have these big feathered white wings that are a pinkish hue at the tip of every single feather. you tried pulling one out to see if it was actually real, resulting in a yelp from your mouth. it kinda hurts.

and that reaction caused a chuckle to come from someone who has your eyes dedicated to just admiring them.

frankly speaking, if you went back and told your past self that by putting those weird vr headset glasses on you would be signing up to falling for a tall and lanky purple rabbit with a yellow smile, you would probably just chuckle and still do it, but with even more determination than before. eh, what can you say? you've always been attracted to the weirdest characters anyways.

but this... this was real, he was real and he was talking to other real weird animated people. ragatha rambled next to you about... honestly, you didn't even know, too busy watching from afar a certain rabbit. this was the start to possibly one of your most frustrating crushes ever.

"[name]? are you okay? you seem more distracted today?" she worriedly asked, putting her hand on your shoulder, "you shouldn't think too much about trying to find an exit if that's what you're thinking about, you might get abs-"

"huh? no, i wasn't thinking about that!" you quickly hurried to give an explanation, trying to dismiss that idea from her, but your eyes darted again to the overall wearing guy and she followed your gaze.

she slowly moved her head back at you after seeing what you were so... distracted about. a smirk broke in her face.

"oooh, little [nickname] has a cruuush?" ragatha teased you.

"wha- no- that's not-" before you could continue, your flushed cheeks got even more red as you saw him approaching. you immediately shut your mouth and just looked at the floor, trying to quickly hide your face

"sup', what are you two gossiping about today?" jax spoke in a mocking, sultry tone that had melting down a drain... not literally though.

"oh, nothing. you know, just the usual!" ragatha quickly tried to hide that topic from him, trying to distract or something. play it cool!

"uh-huh, and why is little cupid over here heating up like a preheated oven?" you almost choked on spit before looking at him with furrowed eyebrows and slightly flushed cheeks.

"none of your business, jax, don't bring your teasing and mocking over to [name]!"

"aww, why not?" jax dropped his hand on your shoulder, "say, little cupid, i heard doll face over here mentioning a crush, who do ya' have the hots for?"

your mind instantly went to answer "you" internally z meanwhile, your lips just answered in an almost quiet sound.

"i'm not telling you."

"huh, and why is that?" he leaned in close, and suddenly you felt absurdly claustrophobic.

he looks so... absurdly attractive with that smirk. you wish you could wipe it off of his face.

"because..." it doesn't take too long to come up with an excuse, you're an overthinker who is always prepared for this kind of situation, "you would mock me for it, and i don't feel like getting bullied by a purple beanpole."

"gasp, you wound me with your hateful words!" he dramatically posed, meanwhile ragatha chuckled in the background. "how can a cupid, made of pure love, be this mean?"

you just lightly punched him in the arm at that.

---

night time seemed like a blur to you in this world. sleep? never heard of that.

it's been a month already and your crush hasn't faltered. instead, it got bigger each day, but to be fair, it was impossible for it to not grow. jax decided that, for some reason, he liked teasing you a bit too much since he found out you might have a crush on someone.

playful flirting seemed to be his favorite to use on you, since you just tried your best to not show how it actually affected you. honestly, you felt like some kind of cliche teenager movie where you're about to write his name on a notebook with hearts all around it.

and that felt too cheesy, even for a cupid.

---

oh my stars, he wishes it's him.

you know, at first when you arrived at the digital circus, jax paid no mind to you. i mean, yeah, you were probably the cutest person in this digital purgatory, but he didn't think that he could fall for anyone in here, this isn't some weird sitcom episode. but it was starting to get difficult to not let him lose himself in a romantic trance when you were around.

he wonders if you used anything on him that could've possibly made him slowly fall for you, hard.

in the second week, he began noticing things about you. for example, you laughed at his jokes and sarcastic personality, got irritated for his pranks but never screamed at him, just shrugging it off like normally, you didn't even care when he stole something from your room.

it was mind breaking to just try and see what could get a reaction out of you towards him. until it was revealed that you had a crush on someone in that place.

jax isn't dumb, he already caught you looking at him from afar just to fastly change your gaze and get flustered, how your hands trembled when you were near him, heart eyes expanding when he talked to you. so, just to test if his theory was real, he decided to leave a subtle flirt for you. and that was checkmate.

he thought at first that it was weird, that maybe he could just play with you a little bit and entertain your little crush on him. but then, the spell turned against him. you flirted back once, and that made him feel awfully fuzzy minded. now, he was the one staring at you from afar sometimes.

that wasn't in his plans, falling for you even harder than you fell for him wasn't supposed to happen. yet, it did anyway.

and now the realization dawned on him that, at some point, he's going to have to either confess or simply hide that for forever, since that's the time they're gonna be stuck in the same dimension together. how fun, isn't it?

---

your feet took you outside of the tent, as everybody was now sleeping comfortably in their own rooms. well, at least you thought they were. stepping onto the grass and breathing in some fresh air, you looked up, waved at the sun and the moon, who smiled back at you contently. then you finally sat down and layed on the saturated green ground, looking up at the fake stars.

you sighed heavily, trying to distract your worried mind that screamed about wanting to get out and at the same time never wanting to leave. it was downright confusing, and left you with pent up energy that made your brain go 100/mph.

you heard footsteps behind you, looking up just to meet with a yellow smile and cartoonish eyes. you immediately gulped as his smirk grew.

"heyyy little cupid, what are you doing here so late?" he questioned you with a lower tone of voice before sitting down by your side. you immediately sat up too.

"just... thinking about some stuff." not losing any chance, you tried to start a conversation. "what about you?"

"meh, just bored and couldn't sleep." jax then looked at you in the eyes. "what could you possibly be thinking about?"

"ah, you know... just the usual!" you tried to quickly change topics, you didn't feel like traumadumping on anyone today nor did you feel like telling him that he's the reason you didn't abstract yet.

"and, does the usual involve your secret little crush?"

your breathe hitches, "why are you so curious about who i like?"

"i just am, it's interesting to see your reactions when i mention them." he leaned down, holding his head with his hand as he still stared at you. "why don't you tell me who it is? i'm starting to get the wrong idea that it's me since you refuse to speak about the mystery person to me."

you think you just felt your heart stop. your eyes go wide and you can feel the heat coursing through your body, blood rushing and flushing your cheeks. you know what? okay then, since there is no escape from this situation, might as well finish the night with a bang before you leave to sleep.

"that's... not the wrong idea at all." you confessed, watching as his eyes went wide in a millisecond.

"what." he spoke before sitting up and grabbing your shoulders. "you're not fucking with me, are ya?"

you shook your head while embarrassingly looking to the floor, feeling frustration pooling in your head.

"no, i'm not. i like you jax, i like your stupid pranks, your stupid jokes, your mischievous smile, your ey-" you were cut off by lips meeting with yours.

as your current situation settled in your mind, you got yourself comfortable and closes your eyes, lacing your arms around his neck and pulling him even closer before you two fell back again, you under him. your stomach was doing backflips, breaking down at the feeling of being reciprocated.

when you finally broke apart, your heart eyes were absurdly big, staring at him while you panted for air. he chuckled at your face, giving a big smile while himself was actually melting at finally having you in his arms. jax laid his head on between your neck and your shoulder. you petted his head, until you felt something.

he was biting your neck, leaving love bites and hickeys behind.

first of all, you didn't even knew if he could open his mouth, but apparently he could (?). you couldn't think much of it, too busy holding back an embarrassing whimper. you held his head and tried not to close your legs around his waist as he continued to bite.

he pulled back, looking at you with a smirk and raised eyebrows.

"well, look what a mess i've done, darlin'. how do ya' feel?"

you couldn't even answer, feeling absolutely overwhelmed by his hand on your waist, the knee resting between your legs and your mind slowly losing it's control. instead of an answer, you just pulled him down for another kiss.

yeah, you probably were enjoying that, but jax? ha! in his mind, he was melting down a drain, patting himself in the back for the idea of deciding to take a night walk and accidentally seeing you. he grinned into the french kiss, feeling absurdly high at the moment.

he wasn't sure how everyone would react to you finally being his, not that he cared about their opinion, but he thinks if would be funny to see their faces. he can't wait for it to happen, but now it's not time to think about that.

it's time for him to think on how to calm his rapidly beating heart that might give you the hint that he loves you way more than you love him.

tell me, sunnie!!: AAAAA i finished writing this only the next day, sorry if it's too short btw!! i know it missed a lot and should have more things but it was rlly rushed bc i want to write more of him <\33 but yeah, thank you for reading sunshine!!

#sunnie's fics!!#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #jax x reader #tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus jax #jax imagine #jax

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