#finally reading latest two chapters

[fubukiswifenoimnotjoking]

Daaaamn the way fubuki reacted to saitama saying she’s just an acquaintance was so dramatic like girl you know he’s emotionally stunted even if you were a closer friend he’d prob still have trouble identifying it lol.

[lisenberry]

Feral Friday 141 Thoughts     

NSFW/MDNI/18+    

When you really need to ride him...

...He’s sitting on the couch, watching the day’s match.  Knees spread wide and taking up half the cushions.  You’re cuddled under his arm with your feet tucked up, reading a book or a download on your phone.  It’s in the middle of a steamy scene in your latest bodice-ripper.  After chapters’ worth of fighting and resisting, the heroine is finally going to come all over the big mean villain’s engorged appendage.  

You’re so engrossed, you’re sure he can feel your breath change and your cheek heat up where it rests against his chest.  Can he sense your arousal as it dampens your knickers underneath the old, softened t-shirt you claimed from his bedroom floor the first time you slept over?

When the whistle sounds to end the half, you vaguely notice, until he stirs next to you. “Hey, babe?  We got any snacks?”

“Umm, I th-think so.”  You pull your attention away just in time to meet his eyes.  And he immediately knows. 

“Got yourself a good one there, do you?”  You’ve bitten your lips raw, you’re sweating, and your chest is nearly heaving with lust as you nod desperately.

“Do you mind if I take the edge off?”  You squeeze your thighs together and feel the slick dripping past the fabric.

“Your finger or mine?” he asks, keeping one eye on the telly and one on you as your maneuver out of your underwear.

“I’m going to need something a bit more this time,” you nearly whine as you launch onto his lap, careful not to headbutt his chin in your urgency.

GAZ – He doesn't miss a beat as you nestle your excited little pussy just over his cock.  He’s already rock-hard and it doesn’t take much to pull him out from the sweatpants he wears slung low on his hips.

“Take what you need, love.”  He smiles proudly as you drop down onto him, slipping and sliding on your own slick. 

And you do, pitching forward to settle him against the bundle of nerves deep in your belly.   He’s so long, he doesn’t just graze it, he impales it.  You swear he’s in your lungs, stealing your breath with each rise and fall.

He cheers you on the whole way. 

“Look at you bouncing so well on my cock...So pretty all flushed and sweaty...Fucking hot, you are.”

Your unfairly handsome, quick-tongued rake tenderly wipes the hair and perspiration from your face, and lets you use him until you're shattered and worn out. 

SOAP:  He lets you grind against him for a bit through his gym shorts, dick fully chubbed like the pommel of a saddle. 

“Please tell me it’s a Scottish highland warrior that’s got you so bothered, and not some prissy English lord.  You’ll hurt my feelings.”  He grins, his eyes already rolling back in his head at your steady stroking.

“Keep talking, Johnny.”  You hump against him faster, knowing the second you put him in, you’ll be done for.  A weeping, overstimulated mess before he even catches his stride.  His burly, veiny length has an upwards curve like he was molded and kiln-forged just to fit you. 

And he could go for hours if you didn’t wind him up good.  Tease him and test him, get his attention exactly where it needs to be.

“Let me suck on your tits, bonny lass.”  He deepens his brogue and his voice an octave as he tries not to laugh, while he strips your shirt off and buries his face into your bosom.

You are quite sure that the hot-headed highland scoundrel in your story didn’t use the word ‘tits’, but you let it slide.  The one between your thighs is everything you need, and more.

GHOST – He’s wearing jeans, so it’s a bit harder to get him free.  After you let out a frustrated huff at the complexity of his wardrobe, he cups you under your ass and stands you both up.  Undoing his belt buckle and the fly one-handed before setting you back down astride him again.

“Needy little dove today.”

“Just let me try, Si.”  You rarely ever ride him.  The few times you’ve attempted it, you give up when your thighs turn to mush and your cunt aches from being split in two.  He’s just too thick for a quickie.

“Are you going to let me help this time, or are you going to be stubborn?”

“Help!”  The strangled sound escapes your throat as you fit him in to the hilt.  He takes up so much space, you can’t tell where you end and he begins. 

“You’re fucking soaked.”  He rolls his hips to stretch you further, to find the right spot, as your slick trickles down to coat his balls.  You feel them wet and sticky against your seam.

“Mmmh-uhhh, that’s it.  Right there,” you bellow gratefully to the ceiling.

“What are you going to do about it?”  He grabs your hips rudely, fingers pressing to dimple the skin and hold you down as he spears your nerves like a spike.

You fight against his hold, knowing that’s what he's looking for.  Just a little fire in your belly, a little steel in your spine and your merciless, battle-scarred rogue will give you anything you want.

“That’s it, dovey.  Fuck me good.”

PRICE – He’s watching you with awe, wide-eyed and slack jawed, so immersed in the act of being milked by your warm, soft walls that he’s relinquished control completely.  You know that look too well.

“Do not come yet, John.  Please.  Think of bullets.  Hollow points and grenades.  A...ummm, a panzer!”  You’re almost there.  So...close your mind is just pulling words from memories of past conversations you were only barely listening to.

“A panzer?  Like the bloody old German tank?” he asks with the sort of clarity of mind you need of him in this situation.

“Yes, keep thinking of dusty relics rotting in museums.  While I ride your big, beautiful cock—”

“You’ve done it now.”  He groans, and you feel him stiffen inside you.  The sensation of it, coupled with the hot spurts of his spend hitting your most sensitive spot, get you there just in time to join him.

You don’t even mind that it was so quick.  It warms your heart, and your cunt, that the callous, domineering war hero falls to pieces so completely for no one but you.

[bangtanshelves]

JJK Fanfic Recos

Hi. These are some of the fanfics I've read.

I've read A LOT but I'll only be including the ones I really enjoyed reading.

I'm in the process of recollecting them, please bare with me.

I'm also updating this post often, so whenever I end finishing a fic I like I just post it here. hehe

💓 - Fluff ❤‍🩹 - angst 🥵 - smut 🚨 - violence/drugs 🤪 - crack ⭐ - fav 🎣 - latest addition to the list

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. SERIES ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

My Love is Here - @/solemnreads

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (so much angst, I love it), 🥵 summary: "You didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s not like you purposely woke up one day and thought “Hey I’m going to fall in love with my best friend!” No, that is not at all what happened."

Knife's Edge - @/readyplayerhobi

Completed ✅

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵, 🚨 The Jeon Clan is Family, built on blood and loyalty. It’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the Clan, Jeon Jungkook. You would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?

Four Seven Eight - @/jiminrings

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (fic made me cry) ,🥵 you’re secure when it comes to loving jungkook, knowing that your husband loves you beyond words. what you aren’t so secure about is his first love — someone who isn’t you.alternatively, jungkook’s married to you, but he still celebrates his anniversary with his ex out of sentimentality.

Close to you - @/muniimyg

Completed ✅ ⭐

genre: 💓, 🤪 It should've been easier than this, right?In which oc and Jungkook sleep together and he can't get over it.

Falling Skies - @/fortunexkookie

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jeon Jiyeon was your childhood best friend; her brother, Jungkook, was something else entirely. Once upon a time, she had called you her sun and him her moon; it was fitting, given the constant push-and-pull between you two. You used to consider him a friend, but then he had gone from endearingly frustrating dumb boy to card-carrying fuckboy so fast it had given you whiplash.

Please Love Me - @/ahunderedtimesover

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 As the only unmarried Jeon and Kim children, your families propose a union to symbolize your unbreakable bond that spans generations. But despite developing an affection for Jungkook growing up, he never returned it; he never seemed to like you, actually. You’re okay with the proposal, but surprise surprise, he isn’t.

Lowkey - @/xpeachesncream

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 In order to pass organic chemistry and pay off your car damages from an accident, all you have to do is help the nerd, Jeon Jungkook, with a few things: pretend to be his girlfriend and teach him the way of dating.

Hotter Than Hell - @/chateautae

Completed ✅ ⭐

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Jungkook, Lucifer and king of hell, has been cast out of the crimson underworld for a reason he's unsure of. Embarking on his journey for the answers should've been easy, if it weren't for you, the human that nurses his wounded body in her home, and accidentally witnesses the truth of his identity. Kickstarting a hellish adventure with the devil himself, you discover Lucifer is the most infuriating company ever; and Jungkook finds out that maybe his answer to returning home lies within his annoying human confidant.

An Ode to a Broken Heart - @/smoochkooks

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (bro I've been crying over this fic for days), 🥵 (future smut)  you’ve watched jeon jungkook slip out of your reach your entire life. now it’s time for you to finally move on, bury the past and open a new chapter. however, you’re doing it in your own, unconventional way - by publishing anonymously a novel about your miserable relationship.

Mutual Help - @/personasintro

Ongoing... ✍ (this is also posted on AO3)

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 (damn... that's all i can say)  in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

Way Back Home - @/solemnreads

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹 (please i really love angsty fics, fite me), 🥵

"Please tell me this isn't what I think it is" he asks you with tears in his eyes. You look down at the sight of your son with an oxygen mask on his face while your daughter is sleeping on the couch near the wall. You look into his eyes, broken, and sad. You've dreamt of this day for years, wondering how he would react. But here you are, hoping he could've meet the twins under different circumstances. "Yes... they're your children."

Strawberry Kisses - @/pixieknj

Ongoing... ✍

Genre: ❤‍🩹, 🥵 (Chapter 1 has been posted, but its something else) Jungkook is notoriously known as a f^ckboy who doesn’t eat p^ssy, until he finally gets alone with you…

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚. ONE-SHOTS or TWO-SHOTS ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚.

The Right Choice - @/honeytae

Genre: 💓 for as long as you've known Jungkook, you would think that you're witnessed all sides of him. But when you notice the way he's looking at you right now, you think you may be wrong about that.

Rainy Days - @/rklve

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Your life choices left not only yours, but Jungkook's hear broken in pieces. Now you're back in town, and just like Pluto, even if its cold and dark he tends to orbit around his sun forever.

High Demand - @/bunnyhugs77

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🚨 A modern day Romeo and Juliet

SOJU - @/hoseoksluna

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook gives you all that he has—his feelings, his dominance and his cum.

Lost & Found - @/kooktrash

Genre: ❤‍🩹 (if you squint), 🥵 your college years have never been something you dwelled on for too long. you didn’t want to think of all the chances you lost and that’s why when the guy you had a crush on moves back to town, you try not to let it affect you again. but then he brings up old memories that didn’t go the way you thought they had and you’re thrown for a loop. you’re stuck between finding something new with him and falling back into old habits of never standing up for yourself. it probably doesn’t help that he dated your best friend, where everything seemed to go wrong.

Bottle Up Old Love - @/wintaerbaer

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

Pink Sapphire - @/jiminrings ⭐

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹(please I'm a sucker for this) ,🥵 Having Jungkook as a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. Your relationship's perhaps become so easy that Jungkook doesn't think sometimes— and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

Will it fit? - @/jeonsweetpea

Genre: 💓, 🥵, 🤪, ❤‍🩹 (just a little bit) So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can't exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom...

Break up with your Boyfriend - @/spideyjimin

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 Jungkook, the campus fuckboy, has decided to make you his next victim, but you're far from being like any of his previous hookups. You're not single. You're actually in a very long-term relationship with Baekhyun, the man you consider the love of you life, but it's for sure something that won't stop Jungkook. He wants you, and he's going to do absolutely everything to have you, even falling in love.

Paint me naked - @/gimmethatagustd

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹,🥵 After the mysteriously hot guy in your university class starts taking an interest in you, should you really trust that he's not like all the other college fuckboys? Especially when his best friend is the guy who broke your heart?

I hate you, I love you - @j/ungblue 🎣

Genre: ❤‍🩹,🥵 You hated him at seven, warmed up to him at twelve, and liked him at fifteen. Now the two of you are twenty years old and inseparable best friends... and you're absolutely in love with him; he's in love too—just not with you.

How to Get a Guy - @/taeshobipop 🎣

Genre: 💓, ❤‍🩹, 🥵 Star basketball player Jeon Jungkook has a reputation as the ultimate fuckboi. He's loved by everyone. Everyone. And you would have followed suit if he had not broken all your strict Roommate Rules™ within the first week of his stay. Jungkook, on the other hand, thinks you're absolutely bizarre. But there's a silver lining— Mr. Fuckboi here knows basketball captain Min Yoongi, your dreadfully clueless crush. He strikes up a deal with you: he'll teach you the ways of flirting if you lessen your load of rules (so Jungook can continue persuing his way through the ladies on campus). Yet the longer Jungkook spends with you, the more he realizes that maybe he doesn't want to tbe the campus fuckboi anymore. The problem is, how does he prove that to you?

[yoonia]

Ever A Never After — story masterpost

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Summary | Growing up in the fairy tale land, your whole life seems to have been written perfectly in the books, with the picturesque life and the Prince Charming that you can see yourself having your happily ever after with. But your entire world turns upside down when you are suddenly sent into a whole new world, a different kind of universe where happily ever after doesn’t exist. Thrust into a new challenge and shown a new side of life, you find yourself standing in a crossroad. When the moment arises, would you find your way back home to your true love, or is the universe trying to show you that sometimes happy endings don’t have to be written so perfectly?

⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Angst, Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; specific warnings will be added accordingly on each published chapters ⟶ Status / Current word count / Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Ever A Never After: Act 2 - Part 2 (Oct 7th, 2024) - 51,865 words of n/a words  ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi | Music companion ⟶ Cross-posted in AO3 and Wattpad

⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

⟶ Story Note | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). In place of the coding, you’ll find a blank space as her name. Please also note that our main character/reader insert for this story has her own nickname that will be used in the scenes. While the story is adapted from the movie, Enchanted, with some characters and places that were mentioned in the movie added into this story, I will be adding changes in the story settings, characters’ names and background stories to fit the plot. That being said, as someone who has never set foot in the land of America, forgive me if there are some inaccuracies in the details that are being added here. I hope that doesn’t change your reading experience with the story.

⟶ Chapters

⇢ Act One. Andalasia, The Maiden, and The Dream Prince [“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” “It’s me. Your Prince Charming.” | Word count: 19,688 words | posted: May 21st, 2024 | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Two. The Alter World and The Saviour [“I need to find my way back to the castle.” “What castle?” “Why, of course, I’m talking about Andalasia.” “Huh, right. Why don’t I just call you an Uber?” | Word count: 32,185 words | Chapter Teaser]

— Part 1. Welcome to the Alter World [Word count: 15,410 words of 32,185 words - posted on: Sept 16th, 2024] — Part 2. The World Without Magic [Word count: 16,755 of 32,185 words - posted on: Oct 7th, 2024 ]

⇢ Act Three. Fairy Tales and Bittersweet Endings [“You forgot to say the part where you lived happily ever after.” “Happily ever after? That thing doesn’t exist, not in the real world.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Four. The Ball for The Kings and Queens and Dragons [“There is a ball for the Queen and Kings at the start of spring. Shall we go together?” “As your Prince Charming, I’ll be happy to escort you.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Five. Prince Charming and a Happily Never After [“Look at how the tables have turned, as now I have in my hand the Prince who is supposed to protect the princess.” “Come along now, dear. You wouldn’t want to miss the ending.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⟶ Fic talk & references

⇢ image reference

⇢ readers feedback & discussions

⟶ Patreon specials

⇢ visual inspiration board

⇢ fic commentary (coming soon)

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | It’s finally here! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. As mentioned in our last talk, there will be some changes from the original prompt/details that I’ve made to make the story work better, but I hope you’ll be able to enjoy it still. I have decided to release this one as a mini-series to present the timeline more appropriately and make the storyline work. Have fun reading!

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[mononijikayu]

don't look back in anger — gojo satoru.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?” Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: spoilers for chapter 269 of jjk, domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 3k words.

NOTE: i decided to write this really REALLY fast before uni because i can't stop thinking about how angry i am that satoru isn't being mentioned in the latest chapters. and i just needed to let this out. thank you a lot for reading it though!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

IT’S ONLY BEEN A DAY OR TWO SINCE THE BATTLE. But you hover over your husband so constantly that you can’t help but notice the subtle signs—he’s doing his best to be patient with you.

Satoru’s usually the one with the infinite calm, the one who never loses his cool. But every time you adjust his blanket, offer him water, or check in on how he’s feeling, you catch the slightest flicker of exasperation behind those brilliant blue eyes.

He never says anything, of course. Instead, he smiles at you, that teasing grin of his that you know too well. But you can feel it in the way his gaze lingers just a bit too long, in the way his shoulders tense every time you fuss over him. He’s trying to bear it without complaint—because he knows you’re only worried—but it’s there.

“You’re doing it again,” Satoru finally says, a playful edge to his tone, though you catch the weariness underneath.

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “Doing what?”

He chuckles softly, his voice low. “You know what. Hovering.”

Your lips press together in a thin line, knowing he’s right but not willing to back down. “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” you say, trying to keep the defensiveness out of your voice.

“I’m fine,” he replies, his smile softening. “Really. You don’t have to worry so much.” 

You narrow your eyes at him, unconvinced. “You’re still recovering. Let me worry.”

“I know.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his. “But if you keep this up, you’re going to drive yourself crazy. And me.”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at your lips. “You? Crazy? Impossible.”

Satoru laughs, shaking his head. “Even I have my limits, you know.”

You lean back slightly, loosening your grip on him, but not without a lingering glance. “Alright, alright. I’ll try to give you some space. But just a little.”

He smirks, a hint of his usual mischief returning. “Just enough to let me breathe, maybe?”

You roll your eyes, but the tension between you eases, the moment settling into something lighter. Still, you can’t help but keep a watchful eye on him, even as you pull back. It’s in your nature to worry—and Satoru knows it.

The ride home from Jujutsu High is thick with tension, the echoes of the conversations from earlier still gnawing at you. Megumi walks beside you, his silence mirroring your own frustration.

The meeting had been a circus of finger-pointing and thinly veiled accusations, and even though Satoru wasn’t there, his name was dragged through the mud as if he had been. Blame for Yuji, blame for the crumbling system—everyone needed a scapegoat, and as usual, they chose Satoru.

By the time you reach the Gojo manor, you’re seething. You can’t shake the bitterness from the gathering—their condescending tones, the way they talked about Satoru like he was a liability instead of the reason half of them were still alive. As though being the strongest changes the fact that your husband is a breathing human being. 

In the view of the water gardens, it was peaceful. And yet all at once, a storm brewed inside of you. You and Satoru sit together in the quiet, as you have been for the past few days now. But unlike these past few days, the view does not make you feel calm and at peace at all.

Instead, your irritation is palpable, your fingers drumming impatiently on the armrest of the chair. Gojo Satoru lies next to you, still recovering, his usual vibrancy dampened by both physical exhaustion and the heavy burden of blame. The weight of jujutsu society’s accusations presses down on the room, though none of them are here to face him.

Across the room, Fushiguro Megumi stands silently, arms crossed, watching you both. He’s fully aware of the anger simmering just beneath the surface, not just at the accusations, but at the complete disregard for Satoru's sacrifices. If anything, he’s just as angry. But he knew better than to say anything. Especially knowing that you were angry. It was better at that point that someone was focused on remaining calm. Otherwise, it would be hellfire. And there was none needed, just after defeating the King of Curses. 

Yet, you both can’t help but feel how deeply it stings. It was ever so easy for everyone in your  world to just forget everything, to not acknowledge what your Satoru has done, reducing him to the villain, the perpetrator of the entire suffering of the Jujutsu world, just because he refused to follow an unjust order—to execute Yuji Itadori, a child caught in forces far beyond his control. 

Just because he could not stop powerful curses and cursed users from doing things that your husband would not have had any knowledge about. Your husband couldn’t have predicted thousand year old cursed users and their greed would do something like this to your world. How is it your husband’s fault, that the rot had gotten that deep in Jujutsu society either? 

You glance at Satoru’s pale face, his breathing still slightly labored. The hurt in your chest deepens, anger mixing with a fierce protectiveness. How could they not see what he’s gone through, what he continues to endure for the sake of others? All you can think is how none of them truly understand what it means to stand at his side, to witness the toll this cursed world takes on him every single day.

The quiet hum of the room feels suffocating, the weight of your frustration finally spilling over. You turn to Satoru, your voice sharp, but layered with concern. You just can’t help it, when it comes to him. You were always so protective of him, even all those years ago. Because if you would not do it, who would? Who would take his side and give such devotion, as equal as his own? Your husband isn’t the type to explain himself, nor is he someone that would let anyone know what he truly feels. He doesn’t think he has to. He does not care.

“They have no right, my love.” you say, trying to keep your voice steady but failing. “After everything you’ve done, everything you’ve given—how dare they blame you?”

Satoru doesn’t look at you, his bright blue eyes half-lidded, fixed somewhere distant. His signature smirk is missing, replaced by an unfamiliar stillness. “It’s not surprising, baby.” he mutters, voice barely above a whisper. “They always need someone to blame. KIlling the higher ups is just a step. The rot still exists from some people’s thinking, you know?”

“But it shouldn’t be you.” you snap, louder this time. You catch Megumi shifting slightly in his spot, his expression unreadable, though the tension in his stance suggests he’s just as frustrated as you are. “You know you aren’t to blame for their ills.”

“They want things to stay the same, Gen–san.” Megumi finally speaks up, his tone controlled but edged with bitterness. “Blaming Gojo-sensei is easier than facing their own failures.”

You clench your fists. “They forget that he’s human. That you—” Your words choke off. You can’t bring yourself to say it. It feels like admitting too much. “It’s just not right.”

Satoru lets out a breath, a soft chuckle following it. “I don’t care what they think. I did what I believed in. I wasn’t going to kill Yuji. He deserves better than that. And... he’s a kid. Just like ‘gumi. I don’t... I don’t have the heart to... you know what I mean.”

His voice falters slightly at the end, and you catch something in his expression that makes your chest tighten. It's rare for Satoru to let his guard down like this, to even hint at the weight he carries, but you can see it now—just for a second, the flicker of doubt, the exhaustion behind those sharp blue eyes.

“You did the right thing,” you say, your voice softer now, though the anger still simmers beneath. “Yuji’s not a tool to be discarded. He’s just a boy.”

Satoru nods, his gaze distant. “Yeah, a boy thrown into the worst situation imaginable. Just like ‘gumi was. Like Yuta was. I couldn’t... I wouldn’t make him pay for their mistakes. I’ve seen what this world does to people like him.”

There’s a heaviness in his words, the unspoken memories of everything he’s witnessed, everything he’s tried to protect the kids from. You know how much it eats at him—how deeply he cares, even if he hides it behind his usual bravado. And as much as he pretends to shrug it off, the toll is evident in moments like this, when his façade cracks ever so slightly.

You step closer, unable to keep the frustration out of your voice. "And you deserve better than this," you retort quickly, anger flaring in your chest again. "You’ve given them everything, and they give nothing back. They act like you’re just another tool for them to use, like you don’t have a heart. And I’m just so angry….”

Satoru finally turns his head, the faintest glimmer of his usual self creeping into his eyes as he looks at you. “Hey, baby.” he says softly, his voice gentler now. “You know I’m not doing this for their thanks. I’m doing it for the kids, for you. For Satoshi. So we’ll be happy.”

You blink, trying to swallow the anger that lingers. “I know that.” you say quietly. “But I can’t stand watching them tear you apart.”

Megumi walks closer, his arms still crossed, a firm resolve in his expression. “We won’t let them, Gen–san. Don’t worry.”

Satoru chuckles again, the sound a little lighter this time. “You two…huh…” He looks between you and Megumi, his tired eyes softening. “Always so serious. So Zen’in, the two of you. Stop frowning. You’ll end up with wrinkles. Believe me, it’s fine. They’ll come around. And if they don’t—well, it’s not the first time I’ve pissed off people, you know?”

His attempt at humor falls flat, the usual brightness behind his words missing. But the effort doesn’t go unnoticed—it tugs at your heart, a bittersweet reminder of how hard Satoru tries to keep things light, even when the world around him is anything but. You can see it in the subtle shift of his shoulders, the slight downward tilt of his head. He’s tired, more than he’ll ever admit, and though he brushes it off with a smile or a joke, the weight of it all is still there—quiet, invisible, but crushing.

Despite everything—despite the accusations, the blame, the endless expectations placed on him—Satoru is still trying to carry the burden alone. It’s always been like this with him, hasn’t it? He wears his strength like armor, his humor like a shield, always standing tall so no one else has to bear the load. But in moments like this, when his defenses slip just a little, you can see the cracks. And it breaks your heart.

You reach out, your movements slow and deliberate, as if any sudden gesture might make him retreat back into that impenetrable shell of his. Your hand finds his, and you gently intertwine your fingers with his, grounding both of you in the simple connection. He doesn’t pull away; instead, he lets out a soft breath, the tension in his body loosening ever so slightly.

“Satoru,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, “you don’t have to carry this alone. You know that, right?”

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at your hands, your fingers laced together, and there’s something raw in his expression—something vulnerable that he usually hides behind that ever-present grin.

“I know,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “But sometimes... it’s hard to let anyone else help. I’m used to being the one who fixes things.”

You squeeze his hand a little tighter, your heart aching at the quiet admission. “You don’t always have to be the one to fix everything. You’ve done more than enough.”

He meets your gaze then, his eyes soft but still carrying the weight of someone who’s been fighting battles far too long on his own. “I’m not so sure about that,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with a rare uncertainty.

You hold his gaze, refusing to let him retreat. “You have. And you don’t have to keep proving yourself, especially not to those people. Let us help you. Let me help you.”

For a moment, Satoru just looks at you, as if he’s weighing your words, letting them sink in. And then, slowly, he nods. It’s small, but it’s a start—a sign that maybe, just maybe, he’ll let you share the weight of the world that’s been pressing down on him for so long.

“They don’t deserve you, my love.” you say, quieter now but no less fierce.

Satoru squeezes your hand lightly, a soft smile finally breaking through the exhaustion on his face. "Maybe not. But you’re stuck with me. Because you deserve me. Like I deserve you."

You hold his hand a little tighter, your gaze softening despite the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. "And I wouldn't have it any other way,my love." you murmur, your voice a little steadier now. Satoru’s warmth is a quiet reassurance, but the sight of him like this—so worn down, so unfairly burdened—fuels the anger you can’t entirely let go of.

Megumi stays quiet for a moment, watching the two of you before finally speaking again. “They won’t stop, all of this.” he says, his voice firm. “They’ll keep pushing this, won’t they? Trying to make him the scapegoat.”

Satoru shrugs, his usual bravado creeping back. “Let them try. I’m not exactly easy to get rid of. Living after all that is proof enough.”

You frown, your frustration bubbling up again. "You shouldn't have to keep proving yourself to them, Satoru. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and they act like none of it matters."

He looks at you with those pale blue eyes that somehow always manage to soften, just for you. “What do you want me to do? Step aside and let them tear down everything I’ve built? Everything you, me, and the students have worked for?”

“No, my love.” you say firmly. “But I don’t want you to bear all this alone. You’ve already done more than anyone could’ve asked for.” You pause, the words catching in your throat before you add quietly, “I just want them to think of you, for once. Not what they want from you.”

Megumi nods in agreement, stepping closer. “They’re too busy looking for someone to blame. And they’ll keep at it until they find a way to pin everything on you.” His blue - green eyes darken slightly, a shadow of his own frustrations showing. “But we won’t let them.”

Satoru sighs, though there’s a flicker of pride in his gaze as he looks at Megumi. “You’ve grown up, Megumi.” 

Megumi raises an eyebrow, his expression flat. “I’m not a kid anymore.”

Satoru chuckles softly, but the sound is laced with exhaustion. “No, you’re not. But you always will be to me, kiddo. And I’m glad I’ve got you two watching my back.” He looks at you again, the smile fading as he speaks more seriously. “But don’t let this consume you. I’ll be fine. They can push, they can complain, but I’ll keep doing what I know is right.”

Your heart aches at his words. His strength is undeniable, but it’s the toll that worries you most. You lean forward, your voice quiet but firm. “We’ll face them together. You’re not alone in this, Satoru. Not anymore. We’re here.”

His eyes soften even more, the weight of your words sinking in. “I know,” he whispers, squeezing your hand gently. “And that’s what makes it worth it.”

For a moment, the anger subsides, replaced by a quiet resolve between the three of you. You won’t let them tear him down. Not while you’re by his side. Not while Megumi is standing strong. Together, you’ll face whatever comes next.

epilogue

Satoru holds your hand for a beat longer, the weight of the conversation lingering in the air. But then, in true Gojo Satoru fashion, the somber mood shifts as his signature grin makes a slow return now that you both were finally alone..

“You know, baby....” he says, tilting his head and giving you a playful look. “You’re always swooping in to save me. My knight in shining armor.”

Your eyes widen slightly, caught off guard by the sudden change in tone. “What? I—” You open your mouth to protest, but the words stumble over themselves, not quite landing the way you want.

He leans closer, that mischievous gleam in his eyes growing brighter. “Oh yeah, always protecting me from the big, bad sorcerer world. It’s cute, really.”

You feel heat creeping up your neck, spreading quickly to your cheeks. “Satoru, that’s not—”

“What?” he interrupts, his smirk widening as he watches your flustered expression with clear amusement. “I think it’s sweet. I mean, look at you, always worrying about little ol’ me.”

“Little?!” you sputter, trying to keep your composure as he grins down at you. “You’re the most powerful sorcerer alive, you don’t need saving—”

“And yet, and yet!” he drawls, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing,.“Here you are, my personal knight in shining armor. Should I start calling you ‘Sir Baby’?”

Your face is on fire now, and you smack his arm lightly. “Satoru, stop!”

He laughs, the sound light and full of mischief, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Oh, come on. Admit it—you like being my hero.”

You narrow your eyes, trying desperately to compose yourself, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you. “I’m not your hero,” you mutter, though the words come out far less convincing than you’d intended.

Satoru’s grin softens into something more genuine as he leans back, still holding your hand. “Maybe not. But I wouldn’t mind being rescued by you a little more often.”

You blink, caught between the teasing and the sincerity in his voice. “Satoru…”

He winks at you, breaking the moment with a playful shrug. “What can I say? I like having you around. Blushing and all.”

You groan, turning away slightly, but the smile on your face is impossible to hide. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it, don't you?” he replies, completely unfazed, that cheeky grin never leaving his face.

And, despite everything, you can’t help but laugh. “Unfortunately, I do.”

[thefreakandthehair]

“You looked like Gumby on that last swing, man,” Steve says, dropping his bag back on the kitchen table and grabbing two water bottles from the fridge, passing one to a sun-kissed Eddie. “How the hell did you hit it?”

Eddie chugs half the bottle and Steve definitely doesn’t stare at each bob of his throat as he drinks.

“If you swing wild enough, eventually you’ll hit something, right?” Eddie screws the cap back on the bottle and sets it on the table.

“Well, it worked for you at least,” Steve grins and takes a few steps closer, already missing the warmth from their closeness in the cage. “You looked great out here, y’know.”

“Thought I looked like Gumby?” Eddie challenges, smirking as Steve brackets in him against the edge of the kitchen table and lays both hands on Eddie’s hips.

“A hot Gumby, then,” Steve concedes.

It’s so goddamn lame. It’s so fucking stupid. Robin will never let him hear the end of that one but Eddie just smiles, mirroring Steve’s own before he closes the distance and presses his lips against Steve’s.

Finally, he thinks, one hand creeping up beneath Eddie’s tee shirt where Steve basks in the body heat of an Indiana summer. Eddie slides a hand around Steve’s neck, pulling him in closer with fingers entangled in the sweaty hair at the base of his neck. Steve hums against Eddie’s mouth, digging his fingertips into the flesh above Eddie’s waistband and opens his lips against Eddie’s. Sucking his bottom lip between his teeth, Steve bites down gently as they part, both with heavy, needy breaths.

“I can’t believe you called me hot Gumby,” Eddie mocks with a quick kiss, chaste and closed-lipped this time.

“Did it work?”

“Kind of embarrassed to admit that it did, yeah.”

↳read chapter two of slipped between these ribs of mine [explicit] on ao3! written for @steddiesmuttyseptember!

tagging some peeps who expressed interest!: @sageclipse @pearynice @steddieasitgoes @stervrucht @runninriot

@lunaticmarunatic @lihhelsing @steddie-island @kas-eddie-munson @sidekick-hero

@spectrum-spectre @hbyrde36 @queenie-ofthe-void @kkpwnall @starryeyedjanai

@just-my-latest-hyperfixation @steddieas-shegoes @vecnuthy @hyperrbolic-orange

[papercorgiworld]

Can i request a Mattheo Theo and(or, how many u feel like writing) enzo with an older gf maybe like a girl who'd walk em like a dog and in a second they're like "Yes maam whatever you say🧎‍♂️" byw love ur writing I'm obsessed with ur works!!

I kinda wasn't taking request, but I suck at saying no and I just kinda felt like writing this. This is just short and quick, but it was a really fun idea. I gave it a bit more of a specific context, I hope you don't mind. Thank you so much for sending this my way. I hope you like it, bc I really loved your idea. I wrote this in like an hour or so, let me know if you spot any errors. Also currently 2k+ words into a very fluffy muffin coded Mattheo piece. So this is more like a suggestive snack. Enjoy my dears!

Warning: suggestive

I added a part two.

Whipped for their tutor

Mattheo

Mattheo had been skipping too many classes and his latest test had reduced Mcgonagall to tears, so it was tutoring sessions or no quidditch for the rest of the year. So here he was waiting outside of the transfiguration's classroom as the professor informed his tutor on all the material he needed to catch up with. The list was really long and Mattheo was starting to get embarrassed. Especially when he heard the professor refer to his latest test. He really wasn't stupid, he just neglected his studies for a bite too long.

He heard chairs shuffle and moved away from the door. The door opened and Mattheo's mouth almost fell open. You've got to be kidding me. (y/n). Fuck. Everyone at Hogwarts had a crush on you and in Mattheo's case it wasn't just an innocent crush. No, the thoughts he had about you were far from innocent. Professor Mcgonagall's voice pulled Mattheo out of his trance. "Mister Riddle, this is miss (y/l/n), she'll try to save your grade."

You smiled at Mattheo as he nodded at the professor's words. He was cute you couldn't deny that, but seriously the staring was obvious. When the professor left you two alone Mattheo chuckled nervously making you roll your eyes. Wasn't Mattheo Riddle supposed to be a big bad boy? You turn on your heels. "Follow me, I reserved us a classroom." Your voice is sweet and Mattheo feels himself heat up to an unhealthy degree. Yes, mommy. He stares at your ass for a second and then quickly walks after you.

"Mattheo Riddle." Mattheo introducing himself when he catches up with you and you smirk, before licking your bottom lip. "Oh, I know who you are." Mattheo smirks, feeling confident a his reputation. "I've also seen your grades." Mattheo's smug smile drops and he falls silent for a moment. You open the door to an empty classroom and enter, walking over to a table to lay your books on. "I'm actually not stupid." Mattheo finally manages to say and you look up as you organize your books. When you don't say anything he walks closer. "I just didn't work hard enough." He explains and you sit down. "Well, I guess I'm just here to make sure you work for it this time." You tilt your head and watch him almost drool.

"Sit." Mattheo nods and complies. Nothing left of this bad boy. He reaches for his books. "You should start with summarizing chapters 3 to 6." Mattheo huffs. "I never make summaries, I'll just read it over." You lean a little closer and rest a hand on his thigh, making him almost gulp at you touch. "Matty, be a good boy and summarize chapter 3 to 6 for me." Your lips near his ear have his dick twitch in his pants and if your hand would move even an inch you would feel it. Mattheo can't remember the last time he's blushed, but right now his face is reddening as he stares at his book. Slowly he moves his eyes, first to your half opened blouse and then to your perfect lips. "Yes, ma'am." Is all the notorious Mattheo Riddle can say before he opens his books and starts doing the work.

Theodore

He was late and hearing from the laughter in the hallway, he wasn't in a hurry. "That Gryffindor goat just failed me bc she hates Slytherins." You roll your eyes at Theodore's arrogant voice echoing through the hallway, approaching the classroom you were supposed to meet at half an hour ago. "Can't believe you're stuck with a tutor, mate." Mattheo chuckled and you focus on Theodore's test in your hands. "I know, I probably can teach them more than they can teach me." Theo laughs as he opens the door and you tilt your head with a cheeky smile on your lips. "I doubt that." Is all you say and Theodore stares up and down your figure as you sat so elegantly and perfectly. Mattheo stands behind his friend mouth hanging.

"I might need some tutoring as well." Mattheo says his voice squeaky, making him look down in embarrassment. "No doubt, but this session is reserved for Theodore. I can call you Theodore, right?" There's a teasing tone to your voice but both boys are too enchanted by you to notice. "Anything." Theodore breathes as he takes a few steps towards the table you were sitting at. "Mattheo." You say looking past Theo. "You can close the door." Mattheo smiles bright as you say his name and does as you say, only once outside he realizes how foolish he must've looked.

Theodore was now alone left at your mercy. "Are you just gonna stand there?" Theo shakes his head and smiles like a love struck puppy. You were the hottest and most unreachable girl at Hogwarts and now he got to sit next to you, smell your perfume and take in your perfect features from up close. "I don't actually need tutoring." Theo said with a half smirk on his lips, faking confidence. "Your latest test says otherwise." You move the piece of parchment over the table towards the Slytherin, who's immediately flustered. He really doesn't need his dream girl thinking he's stupid. "I say we start by correcting the mistakes you made and filling in the blanks you left." Theodore chuckles, he really didn't want you of all people to tutor him like he was a little boy. He needed to you see him as a man for far from innocent reasons. "I don't think that's necessary." Theodore protests.

You scoot a little closer to him and lay your hand on his thigh, gently moving between his legs. An unsteady breath leaves his parted lips. You owned him and you both knew it. "Don't be like that Theo, just do the work... for me." Another breath leaves his lips and he reaches for his quill, like a good boy. Cute and whipped, exactly how I like them.

Enzo

It wasn't even his fault. Mattheo and Theodore had gotten him high and he had written the word 'soup' as an answer to every question. Now he had to skip quidditch training to go hang with this tutor. With his hands in his pockets he entered the library, scanning the room for his appointed tutor. That's when he saw you. Gods, you were a view. He smiled, immediately getting flustered, you were out of his league and he knew it, but damn you were fine to look at.

"Lorenzo, right?" She's talking to me. Oh by Salazar, it's happening! Say something! "Lorenzo?" You snap your fingers in front him and his smile turns goofy. "Sorry. I was fantasizing- I mean dreaming- thinking." You press your lips into a line you were used to guys getting a little nervous around you, but this guy couldn't even hide it and that just made him adorable af. "I'm your tutor." You don't bother introducing yourself, since you had caught him staring at you enough times for him to know your name and sizes. "Tutor?" The Slytherin seemed to panic at the idea, but you chose to ignore it leaving him with some of his dignity.

"Come on. I was just planning on getting your books." Enzo nods and watches you walk, making you turn after a few seconds and raising your eyebrows. "Come on, Enzo." He sighs at the way you say his name, like you did it better than any other girl. He hurries and follows your every step carrying every book that you summon. Suddenly you turn on your heels and Enzo almost bumps into you, smiling at you as his eyes rest to your soft lips. Probably fantasizing. "Let's start studying, shall well." You announce and despite the discouraging pile of books Enzo quickly nods. "Yes, ma'am." You chuckle. Whipped. With him still trailing behind you a dirty thought sets root, maybe a younger and utterly whipped guy like Lorenzo Berkshire might make a good sugar baby.

[reiderwriter]

Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You🃏

Chapter 1 of That's What You Get

Next Chapter

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Summary: After three weeks on a case in Vegas and a particularly draining phone call from your mother, you decide to take Reid up on his offer to show you the sights of Las Vegas. When you wake up the next morning, you realise one of those sights was a 24hour Wedding Parlor, and that you're now Mrs. Reid.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, loss of memory, marriage (yeah that needs a warning), mommy issues, mentions of emotional abuse, implied sex scene, use of handcuffs in a sexual way, they theorize a possible creampie but I will neither confirm nor deny at this point, talk of contraception, no actual smut though, you guys are gonna have to wait for that. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: The first chapter is here! Sorry for drawing you in with a silly little premise and then giving you mommy issues, I swear that after this chapter it's not bought up all that much. If you enjoy this chapter, you can sign up to the series taglist here, check out my masterlist and if you want leave a request! :D have fun reading!! ✨

Las Vegas, city of sin and entertainment capital of the world. Population approximately 600,000, home to the most famous casinos in the world, and unluckily for you, your latest unsub.

You’d been in Vegas for three weeks trying to hunt down this specific murderer, but now the case was all wrapped up and you could finally breathe, the weight of the stress you’d been carrying for almost a month now dissolving as you finally finished up the paperwork in the local precinct.

“Thank god that’s over. I cannot wait to be in bed with a good book and an empty head,” you groaned as you met the eyes of Penelope Garcia, your favorite tech analyst in the entire world and absolutely the only one you knew. She’d ended up having to join you on this case because some of the crime scenes just happened to be casinos that weren’t so happy sharing their data, but also didn’t want to be lumped with the warrant from the FBI. She’d been working between their offices and the precinct, and looked just as haggard as you felt.

“Oh, I feel you sister, this free travel experience thing is nice, but I would like to be back at my own perfect little desk hovel ASAP, thank you very much.” The two of you shared a small laugh, and then began collecting your stuff.

“Come on now, baby girl, you’re telling me that you don’t want to hit up the strip while we’re here? See the sights a little?”

“Sweet cheeks, I have been working from the most harrowing of surveillance units all week on that very strip. I have already seen the sights and they were not pretty, and definitely not worth using up my precious vacation time for.”

“Unfortunately Garcia, I don’t think you’ll be needing to use any of that vacation time to stay here,” Hotch announced as he walked in, and every member of your team snapped to attention to hear what he had to say. “I just got off the phone with Quantico, there’s a storm cloud moving in directly in our flight path and we haven’t been cleared for take off. They’re extending our stay by another day.”

“Shit,” you let out a silent curse, and noticed that your other team members didn’t seem all that happy about it either. JJ quickly excused herself from the room to call Will, Garcia let out a faux sob and fell back into her chair, and Rossi had the look of abject Italian disappointment on his face that he usually only got when you talked about your love of pineapple on pizza.

“How’s about that drink now, baby girl?” Derek Morgan teased, but it was half-hearted and you knew it. You were all desperate for bed, and you could only imagine the mistakes you would make if you went drinking now after the month you’d all just survived.

The only member of the team who didn’t seem put out quite yet was Reid, but you chalked that up to the fact that this place was his hometown.

“If you guys do change your mind, I know a bar downtown where you’re 34% less likely to be propositioned, robbed or over-charged.” He smiled over at you, and you couldn’t help but let out a giggle knowing the man was 100% serious.

“Dare I ask how you found that statistic, Reid?” Emily inquired from the other corner.

“One part actually reading the annual crime report, one part personal experience?” Reid replied, and you laughed again, unable to hold it back.

“Count me out, thank you,” you replied, and you could have sworn for a second you saw a flash of disappointment flash over his features, but you didn’t get the chance to question it, because a call was lighting up your phone screen.

You quickly excused yourself and moved to pick up the call from your mother.

“Mom, hey, what’s up?”

“What, I can’t check in on my daughter now for no reason?” you sighed and rubbed your temples, knowing exactly how this phone call was going to go, because it was how the last ten calls home had.

“Yes, mom, of course you can. How are you?”

“Terrible. Cindy’s daughter is getting married, and it’s all she’s talking about now. Can you believe it? The girl was absolutely wild when you were friends with her in high school and now she’s settling down with a lawyer of all people. Someone should warn that young man before he realises what he’s got himself into,” she scoffed on the other end of the line and you did your best to not get worked up. If you got angry it only made her more self-richeous.

“I know, Mom, Jessica sent me an invite, and I’m sure Trevor knows exactly what he’s getting into since they’ve been dating since high school.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that? You never tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry, Mom, I’m in the middle of a case right now, can I call you back later?” You did your best to escape the conversation before it devolved into something you really didn’t want to talk about, like yourself, and more specifically your love life. But the gorgon had you frozen through the line and you weren’t about to make the mistake of hanging up on her.

“I’m sure your boss could spare you for five minutes, over-working you like he does. You haven’t had the time off to come and visit me since you got that fancy little job of yours, so you can do me this favor at least.”

“Sure, mom.” At times like this, you knew it was best to just let her talk and ride out the wave.

“And I’m sure you don’t even have time to date. Are you taking care of yourself, at least? Making sure you’re at least presentable, I hope? Its like I always say, you could meet your future husband in one of those precincts, you know. Get a big, strong man to take care of you.”

You had to resist the urge to throw your phone. You’d explained to your mother time and time again that you were perfectly content being the big, strong man for yourself, but there was absolutely no getting through to her. You received one of these phone calls everytime one of her friends or coworkers kids announced an engagement, got pregnant or bought a house, three things that she was desperate for you to do, as well. As soon as you saw the instagram post from Jessica you’d been counting down the days, almost thankful for your mothers lack of online presence.

“A crime scene isn’t exactly the most charming of meet cutes, Mom.”

“Well, then what about Virginia? There are some fine men working at the FBI surely. What about that one coworker of yours, what was his name?” Your heart-race increased for a moment, praying she wasn’t about to put a thought in your head that you wouldn’t be able to escape.

“Derek Morgan, was it? Now, that’s a fine young man.” This time you couldn’t stop the startled cry that came from your mouth. Sure, Morgan was an incredibly attractive man, but he’d joked around with you like a brother ever since you’d taken down your first unsub with the team. Your team was your family and your support system on the road, and they had your back on the case, so really, had your mother said anything, you’d have responded with incredulous guffawing. Hotch was like your dad, Rossi a fun Great-Uncle or something. You saw the sister’s you’d never had in JJ and Emily and of course Garcia was your best friend and you shared so many likes and dislikes that you regularly joked about being long-lost twins separated at birth. And Reid was Reid.

“Just give dating some thought, would you at least? The clock is ticking for you, you know.”

“Mom, I’m not even thirty yet. I’m in no rush.”

“That's what your Aunt Linda said, and look at her.” Your Aunt Linda was a perfectly content single woman in her late forties who had a high paying executive job, in NYC of all places, so yeah, you were in no rush at all.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go, Hotch is calling me into the office to talk about some case files. I’ll speak to you later?”

“God, it’s like you don’t even want to talk to your mother for even five minutes. Go on, then, go do your big fancy job. Call me soon.”

“Yeah, Mom, I will.” And with that you finally hung up. Running a hand through your hair you paused for a breath for a second, closing your eyes and letting your hand just grip your hair for a second before releasing your breath for a second.

In the grand scheme of things, you knew that your mom wasn’t all that much to complain about. You and Emily had bonded over your respective mommy issues early in your time on the team, and you knew a lot of the other team members were either lacking some family member or the other, so you were just thankful that she was still around to annoy you, but god did she make it difficult sometimes.

Realising that any second, you’d have one profiler or the other come find you and ask you (with the best of intentions) what was wrong, you plastered a smile on your face and walked back into the office. You didn’t exactly want to relive that call anytime soon.

“Back so soon, Y/N? I thought that was your mom,” Morgan questioned you when you stepped back in.

“Yeah it was. One of my friends from highschool is getting married and you know how she loves to gossip.” You’d learnt early in the profession that you were in that the best way to hide something was to tell the truth about it for as long as you could, and then change the subject.

“Hey, Reid, you still up for a drink at that bar?” You looked hopefully at the man in the corner, and prayed noone would bring up your absolute change in attitude. “I was thinking a glass of wine or two after a successfully closed case couldn’t hurt, right?”

“Yeah, sure. You wanna head back to the hotel first and change, or do you want to go from here? Hotch said we’re free now until 2pm tomorrow.” You could see a questioning look from Morgan to your left, but you kept your vision focused on Reid, quietly thankful for the rest of the teams disinterest.

“Give me five to drop off my badge and gun in my room and freshen up a bit and we can be on our way. If this bar is bad though, Reid, you know I’m never letting you hear the end of it, right?”

“I ran the statistics, there’s only a 14% chance you’ll dislike it.”

“You know what’s scary is, I can’t even tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

–x–

Sarcasm or no, you had to admit, the bar he’d taken you to was pretty nice. It was a low-lit bar only a twenty minute taxi ride from your hotel and whilst it wasn’t exactly on the strip, it wasn’t so far out to be inconvenient. The best part about it was that it was lined with bookshelves, and each booth was blocked off by another, making it feel more like a library than a watering hole. You almost forgot you were in Vegas when you stepped in.

“Yeah, this is definitely a Spencer Reid place,” you said as you took the final swig of your wine, the glass you’d ordered on arrival having gone down easier than you’d expected.

“How so?” Spencer said as he returned to your table, carrying the replacement drinks he’d gone to order with him.

“Come on, Spencer. I’ve never seen the inside of your apartment but I’m sure it’s just this place with less furniture and more books.”

“Y/L/N, are you profiling me right now? Because that sounds pretty close to profiling?” Spencer teased and you rolled your eyes at him, grabbing your next drink from him and giving it a stir - the wine was good but at the price per glass you’d decided maybe cocktails were the thing for tonight.

“Besides, you did mention wanting to curl up with a book tonight, so I thought this bar was probably a good fit for you too.”

“Whose profiling who now, Doctor?” It was his turn to roll his eyes, and he took a sip of his drink. You knew he didn’t drink that often, but he seemed pretty open to the idea tonight, and you were absolutely glad for the company.

“Okay, I won’t profile if you don’t, but do you mind me asking you a question, Y/N?”

“Fire away,” you were playing with the stirrer in your cocktail, waiting for him to ask the question but he’d hesitated for a moment before speaking again, causing you to look up directly into his eyes.

“What’s going on with you and your mom? I don’t mean to pry and I didn’t overhear any of your call earlier or anything, but when you came in again you were all tense and you had that strained smile on your face. Then you suddenly changed your mind and decided we should get drinks so, I’m just guessing here, but you could probably do with talking about it, right?”

You let out a groan and let your head hang a bit. Yeah, you were starting to regret taking that role in the team of profilers. But at least Reid was sincere, and you knew his intentions were good. Of all the members of the team, you’d probably have described him as the safest. It was strange to think, considering all the comfort you found in your other friends, but there was just something so reassuring about Reid’s presence, the way most people overlooked him at first, how he could easily fall into his work and how you could see the cogs moving in his head as he made one genius leap to another that just made you think that everything was going to be okay if he was there.

So because it was him, you decided to talk.

“She’s just…She’s just a little much sometimes, you know?” He smiled back a knowing smile, but didn’t try to add anything and encouraged you to keep going.

“She’s been really persistent recently in bothering me about hitting some of lifes big milestones - marriage, kids, you know? And it always leaves me in a panic because though I’m pretty sure I want those things just yet, I don’t want the pressure of having them yet.” You swallowed the bile in your thoat and continued

“Everytime she says something, I feel bad that I don’t have them. And the way she talks about them its like they’re some kind of… of personal failure, that I’m not trying hard enough to catch a man or something, and I just wonder what if she’s right?” You start slow but you feel yourself gaining pace as you begin rambling, by the end you’re left wondering if Reid even caught any of that.

“I’m perfectly content living alone, but what if I’m secretly not, and I end up forty and alone and can’t even get a guy to look at me.”

“I can pretty confidently say that that’s not going to happen, Y/N.” Reid replied when you finally grabbed your drink ready to take another sip.

“How come?”

“You won’t have to put any effort into catching a man, Y/N.” Reid replied.

“You’re saying that because you’re my friend and you care about me Reid, of course you think that.”

“No, I’m saying that as an FBI Profiler that’s noticed the barman, the man on a date in the corner and the group of guys smoking outside the door eye you up since we’ve been here. And considering we’ve been doing paperwork all day, and the only change in your appearance since 8am this morning was the fresh coat of chapstick you put on while we were in the taxi, I’d think you hadn’t really put that much thought into what you look like right now.”

���You’re exaggerating,” and you really believe that, until you turn to look at the guy on the date and see him avert his gaze from you quickly, and you realise there might be something in what he’s saying.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t mean that I need or want to hear those things from my mother.”

“Y/N, take it from me, mother’s can be complicated.”

“God, I feel so stupid talking to you about something so trivial with my mom, I shouldn’t be doing that, we’re here to have fun.”

“Y/N, its okay. I can do the mommy issues talks, I’m perfectly qualified, but…” he trails off and grabs his drink for another sip and you find yourself hanging off his words begging for him to bring you more comfort and spoken caresses.

“But what, Reid?” you finally ask, as you realise he’s dragging this out on purpose to tease you a little.

“But how about a distraction instead? Have you ever been in a Las Vegas casino with a man that is banned from gambling in most of them?” He wiggled his eyebrows a little as he asked that and you giggled again, grateful for the reprieve from the serious talk.

“That doesn’t sound all that fun, Spencer.”

“Oh yeah, it’s not, but we could always use those vouchers we got as a token of appreciation earlier in the bars and drink some pretty fancy alcohol?”

“Spencer Reid, you are finally speaking my language.”

“I’m still speaking English Y/N, but if you wanted me to switch to russian or some other language, I could accommodate that depending on your linguistic preference.”

“It was a joke, Spence, now let’s get out of here.”

With that, he stood and dramatically offered you his hand like a gentleman, placing your hand in the crook of his elbow when you took it and guiding you swiftly out of the sweet bar. You were with Spencer, your safe friend, close work colleague and probably the least likely member of the BAU Team to get into trouble in a bar in Vegas. What’s the worst that could happen? You thought, as you took a final step out into the humid night air of Las Vegas.

–X–

The first thing you noticed in the morning was the pounding in your head, and it was pretty much the only thing you noticed for quite some time. When you managed to finally unglue your eyes, the second thing you noticed that this definitely wasn’t your room. The third thing you noticed was the gaping hole in your memories that explained how you possibly could’ve ended up wherever it was that you were. Or really any memories from the night before at all.

Letting out a quick groan you sit up in bed and take stock of your surroundings. Although the layout is different, you quickly recognise the interior matches the hotel you’ve been staying at, so you’re thankful that you’re at least somewhere relatively safe, and most likely in familiar company. The room looks to be neat on the whole, but there’s obvious signs of a drunken escapade strewn everwhere - two champagne flutes and a drained bottle, the contents of your purse spilt onto the chair in the corner, some random balloons in the corner you must have picked up somewhere in a drunken stupor, your clothes discarded in a trail to the bed.

That last one wakes you up a little bit more, and almost embarrassingly, you look down at yourself and see your lack of clothing, pulling the covers of the quilt closer to you as you feel yourself flush.

Fuck.

There’s a shifting in the bed next to you, and you look down in horror to see exactly which member of your team got you so plastered last night. You try to move to see who it is, but theres a tightness around your wrist and you’re pulled right back down into bed. You look down at your arm, and that’s when you realise you’re really screwed.

There, around your wrist and restraining you against the bed, is a set of handcuffs. FBI standard. The insinuation flames your face as you whip around to see which close friend and coworker you maybe - possibly - hooked up with last night, too embarrassed to look at your hand any more.

Luckily, your mystery man shifts again, and you catch sight of the nest of brown curls right before he turns over to see you, so when you finally meet the eye of Doctor Spencer Reid, you don’t scream in surprise.

“Y/N? What are you doi-” he cuts himself off as he lets his eyes trail down your body, quickly noticing your state of undress and pulling himself up into a seated position. He is similarly disrobed and it takes all of your strength to pull your gaze away from his bare chest to look literally anywhere else, your face practically flaming now.

“Spencer, would you mind helping me out over here?” you manage to squeak out quickly, as he does his best to avoid your eyes. “I seem to be a little stuck?”

That draws his attention back to you, and he finally notices the strange position of your arms and the handcuffs keeping you pinned to that spot in the bed.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry, fuck,” he quickly pulls on the pants he discarded by his side of the bed and scrambles over to you, tripping over once in his haste.

“Do you know where the key is?” you ask as he arrives at your side again, your free hand clutching the sheets over your breasts like your life depended on it.

“If that’s my pair they should be in the safe in the nightstand with my creds, give me a second to look.” After a second, he reaches the aforementioned safe box, pulling it open. He roots around inside it for a few seconds and then he spots something ad you watch the blood drain from his face.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you spit out quickly, tongue still heavy, and lips probably still swollen, from the night before, so you trip over the words a little. He pulls out the keys from the draw, and you let out a sigh of relief, but you’re still tense as he reaches back inside the draw and pulls out something else.

“Y/N, there wouldn’t happen to be a ring on that hand would there?” Spencer still isn’t looking at you, still staring intently at whatever else is in his hands. You try to angle your head to look, but between the restraints and the fact that Reid had turned his back to you couldn’t quite see what it was.

“What? No, I don’t wear a ring on this hand-” you cut yourself off abruptly as you look down and see it. There on the fourth finger of your left hand, the one that is still chained to the bed by your partners handcuffs, is a ring. There’s a ring on your ring finger. You just woke up in Las Vegas with no memory, in your coworkers room, naked, with a ring on your ring finger.

Your heart drops to your ass as you snap your head back around to Spencer, who finally works up the courage to look you in the eye.

“I think you should look at this” he stutters out and finally presents you with the other item he pulled out of the draw. Your jaw drops open and the pounding in your head turns into a continuous buzzing as you see yourself presented with a marriage liscence. Pinned to the corner with a paperclip is a polaroid picture, and you recognise yourself and your clothes from the night before, with the addition of a veil and bouquet, your arms slung around Reid’s neck as he pulls you in for what you can assume was a pretty passionate kiss.

“Y/N I think we got married last night.”

For a second you could’ve sworn your heart stopped. This was not happening, not to you, not right now. How stupidly drunk could you have gotten to have actually gone and married someone you weren’t even dating. And considering your current lack of clothing, it was dawning on you that you had probably done a little bit more than what was in that photo.

“Spencer unlock these handcuffs right now, so help me God,” you breathed deep and screwed your eyes shut, hoping that wihtout the distraction of the glaring lights you’d be able to remember some of what you’d done last night, but nothing came to you.

Reid, for what it was worth, got you unlocked quickly. You winced slightly as you pulled your arm away from the position it’d been in for however many hours.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry, I should have undone those last night, I don’t know why I didn’t, I’m usually pretty good at remembering stuff like that.” Reid rambled, running a hand through his hair and pacing slightly at your side of the bed. You pushed yourself up and watched him for a minute, just looking at this man who was now, probably, your husband.

Your husband.

You shook the thought from your head and cut his rambling off quickly.

“You put me in these?” you asked, just desperate for any clarification on any of the events of the last 24 hours, not fully grasping the implications of what you were asking until Reid was looking down at you with a flushed face and a mouth gaping like a fish, struggling to find the words to say.

“This is my hotel room. Those are my handcuffs… I kind of just assumed…” he trailed off the thought and you were right with him, the embarrassment heating your face just as much as it had his. You found it hard to meet his eyes the, and dropped yours to your lap.

“So you don’t remember, either?” You almost sighed in relief at that. If even a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory was in this state after a night of drinking, then you really couldn’t be blamed for getting so drunk you married your coworker and most likely had some pretty kinky sex with him, remembering absolutely nothing on top of that at all.

“Do you need me to grab you something to wear?” he asked as he looked down at you, letting his gaze trail probably a little bit too low for a little bit too long. You grew heated under his stare, as your body reacted, and you realised how easy it must have been to fall underneath him last night if this was how you were feeling from just one look.

But you pulled yourself out of those thoughts quickly, and it seemed that so did he, as he began grabbing clothes from the floor and handing them to you, turning away as you started getting yourself into a semi-decent state.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” you heard Reid mumble to himself as he made his way around the side of the bed, and in your concern for him, you called out.

“Anything specific those curses were for, Spence? Because I know this isn’t exactly the most ideal situation, but four Spencer Reid swears in a row is a cause for concern.” You tried to joke, hoping to relieve some of the anxiety of your predicament.

“I can’t find…” he started and then dragged a hand over his face, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. “Y/N, I think we didn’t use protection.” You could see him panicking now, and for a second you thought of joining him too, but you crossed the room and grabbed his arms.

“Spencer, look at me, it’s fine. If we did end up… doing that, I’m on birth control, and we probably have time to grab something extra just to make sure, right?” he looked down at you then and after a moments hesitation, he wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, I’m so stupid for suggesting we go to that casino bar last night, I don’t know what I was thinking. You even said last night that this wasn’t what you wanted for yourself, right now, god I’m an idiot, you don’t deserve this.” He buried his face in your neck and held you tight, and you pulled yours up to his back, rubbing circles into his skin slowly.

“Spencer, listen to me. I can think of noone I would have rather had a shotgun Vegas marriage with, okay? This isn’t your fault, we were both drunk, and I’m sure a Reid who was thinking straight could give me some kind of statistic about inhibitions dropping with a certain amount of alcohol.”

“A study in the United Kingdom found that there was an increase of risky sexual behavior in young people who had participated in binge drinking, including unprotected sex with a new partner and the use of emergency contraceptives and I’m not sure why I’m still talking when that was probably rhetorical, right?” You smiled at his panic, finding him just as endearing as ever, even in this predicament.

“What I’m saying, Spencer, is that we’re going to be okay. This isn’t the first time someone has gotten married in Vegas on a whim. Hell, this isn’t even the first time it’s happened to someone on our team. In a sense, this was a very traditional wedding.”

He groaned into your neck again and you laughed up at him. Sure, you were panicked still, but just having him in your arms there sharing his honest feelings with you instead of bottling it up and leaving you to deal with it on your own in your head too was doing you a world of good, and you found the words you used to reassure him soothing you, too, in turn.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. One, find the nearest pharmacy. Two, find whatever Elvis-inspired love shack wrote that marriage license and figure out if it’s actually legally binding. Three, avoid all of our coworkers until 2pm. How does that sound?”

Reid pulled himself out of your neck then, and you were almost sad at the loss of that warmth near you.

“It sounds like I made the smartest choice of a wife I was ever going to make,” he smiled down at you.

“Oh you got jokes now, Doc? I see.”

“Thought I should let you know all my deep dark secrets now we’re married.” You shared a laugh, and standing there amongst the debris of the night before, despite all the mistakes, you knew you were safe, and that the two of you would always be safe together.

🏷️ @sailortongue @bethanyhaas01 @reidscaffeine @high-functioning-cosplayer @average-sunflower @multifandom-on-the-side @anniewhalelover @prentissesredtanktop @abbyshmaby @academiareid @hugyourlungs @w-windy @babybluecakes @SwaggySagieWagie@reidandhotchsgirl @lover-of-books-and-tea @star0055 @Zaapsite @daddy-dotcom @bluecandycake

[skzdarlings]

vexatious vixen ; felix x reader ; part 1/2

masterlist.

PART 1/2. READ PART 1 HERE. ( READ ON AO3. )

You always get what you want. When an unassuming security guard named Felix stops your latest venture, you escalate the stakes until he has no choice but to put you in your place.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: romantic comedy. strangers to enemies to lovers. handcuffs. cat-and-mouse. eventual smut will be kinky dom/sub dynamics, dom!felix and sub!reader. (chapter word count: 7400 words.)

-

Seungmin is one of your best friends and also a conniving master of manipulation.  Being a malevolent source of wicked verbal wizardry, he convinced you and Minho that it would be totally super easy to sneak into the Hwang Hyunjin concert.  It’s only the final night of the pop-star’s sold-out world tour and the most anticipated concert of the year.  What could go wrong?  

It sounded like a good idea when Seungmin said it.  Now the three of you are standing in a pushy crowd of overeager fans with some very intimidating looking security guards at the end of the queue. 

“Reconvene,” you say.  You grab the boys by their scruff and drag them out of the line. 

“Ah, hey!” Minho snaps at you like piranha.

You release him to grab Seungmin by his collar.  “You better have an idea for getting us past security,” you say, “because I do not like the look of the Incredible Hulk up there.”

The three of you look at the shortstack beefcake who looks like he could bench all three of you at the same time. 

“Yeaaaah,” Seungmin says.  He flashes you a not-so-innocent smile as his strawberry-pink bangs flop into his eyes.  “I didn’t really think this far ahead.  I thought you’d have a plan.”

“Why would I have a plan?” you ask.  “This whole thing was your idea.  Seungmin.”  You drag him close so your noses touch, going cross-eyed at the proximity.  It does not lessen the severity of your frustration when you state, “I waxed for this.  And you know how I feel about waxing.” 

“You waxed?” Minho asks loudly.  It draws a few glances your way which might be because Minho is so loud, or might be because he’s so good looking, or a combination of the two.  His dark eyes narrow at you like you’re a completely alien creature.   “Why would you wax for a concert?” he asks. 

“Wax,” Seungmin parrots.  Your hands are on his collar like you intend to shake him up but it doesn’t deter him asking, “Like… like wax-wax?  Like your human body waxed?”

“Like your human pussy?” Minho asks.  “For a concert?  What did you think was gonna happen?”  He is on the very visible verge of hysterical laughter when a thought lights his eyes.  “Wait,” he says.  “I know how we can get in—”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You shove Seungmin and grab Minho by the collar instead.  “I’m not fucking our way in.  And I waxed,” you drop your voice, “just in case.”

“Just in case…?” Minho tips his head.  “Just in case you had to fuck your way in…?”

“Oh my god,” you say.  You push him away too.  “Never mind.”

“Did you think Hyunjin was going to summon you out of the crowd for a green room quickie?”  Seungmin asks with a shit-eating grin. 

Minho cackles.  “No way she’d even go,” he says.  “She doesn’t get summoned.  She likes to be chased.” 

“She is walking away now,” you say.    

“Bet she’ll walk away quickly,” Seungmin says.  “She waxed so she’ll be aerodynamic.”

You stomp away from the stadium but only make it a few steps before Seungmin runs in front of you. 

“We can’t just give up here,” Seungmin says.  “We made it this far already.”

“One bus stop?” you ask dryly.  “We literally live like five minutes away—”

“Exactly!” Seungmin says.  “That’s called destiny.”

“We might as well try,” Minho says.  He cups a hand over his eyes to look at the stadium in the fading light of the sun.  “We all got dressed up.  Seungmin skipped a class.  You waxed.” 

“There’s no way we’re getting through those doors,” you say. 

“We’ve done it before,” Seungmin says.  He turns you to face the stadium and massages your shoulders like a boxing coach, all the while regaling you with tales of your past victories.  “Remember all the other concerts we snuck into?  The sports games?  That celebrity wedding—”   

“Well,” Minho interrupts, “we did get arrested at that one.” 

“Yeah and we got arrested together,” Seungmin says, “because that’s what friends do.” 

“I don’t know why,” you say, “but for some reason this is working.”  Maybe it’s Seungmin’s words, or Minho’s cologne, or maybe it’s the soft glow of a perfect summer sunset as it pours over the stadium like a pink-orange waterfall.  Or maybe it’s because this really is the concert of the year, and you love a challenge, and you fucking waxed. 

You throw your head back and sigh, soulfully resigning yourself to your imminent fate.

“Fine,” you say.  “So how are we doing this?”   

“Don’t worry,” Seungmin says thoughtfully.  “I think I have a plan.”

Seungmin proceeds to explain the plan.  It is hardly the pinnacle of heist endeavours but is more feasible than rappelling down the stadium walls into the concert arena.

Basically, the plan is to find a group of people with a solitary ticket holder and leech onto their tail with the hopes security will miscount the party and let you sneak past.  It means you will have to split up because security will definitely notice three extra people.  You will then hopefully reunite inside the arena.

You scamper around the periphery of the stadium, perusing lines for oblivious groups of excited fans with an e-ticket-wielding ringleader.  You also double-check which security guards seem the most lax or checked out. 

“I get that one,” Minho says. 

He points to a trim, athletic guard with floppy brown hair and a giggly smile.  You and Seungmin protest because that guard is an easy mark so you all want him, but Minho takes off running for the queue. 

The thing about Lee Minho is that he never hauls ass.  He coasts through life with a casual slouch, but he is completely capable of annihilating everyone if he deigns to do so. 

He does.  So he did.

You and Seungmin look around.  Your grin widens when you spy the next easiest target.

“Aha!” you say.  “I call dibs on that one!  Good luck, Seungmin!”

“Hey!” Seungmin bellows.

He is far too late.  You are already booking it towards the line with a pretty, chipper, skinny security guard.  He is in jeans and a loose windbreaker that says SECURITY across the back, about the only indication he is a man of any authority.  His hair is a vibrant, neon blue and is delicately styled, long enough to pull back in a pretty half-ponytail.  His features are sharp, cheekbones sloping, but there is a natural tenderness to his whole countenance.  He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. 

Also, he really is lean.  Worst case scenario, you can probably push your way past him and disappear into the crowd before he can do anything about it.  

You find a group of girls to sidle alongside anyway.  You are satisfied you will easily slip into the stadium. 

The group reaches the front of the line, a couple of them giggling at the security guard’s friendly attention.  His name tag reads Felix, a cute name for a cute guy.  Up close, you can see a smattering of dark freckles across his face, as well as a few playful glitter stars for the concert.  He is admittedly pretty but as a professional gate crasher, you refrain from distraction.  You successfully avoid his gaze and stick close to the girl in front of you. 

Felix gives them each a friendly nod, smiling brightly.  He laughs at one of their comments and it’s a charming, low sound. 

“Enjoy the show, ladies,” he says, his voice about a hundred decibels deeper than you expected.  

Maybe that’s what trips you up.  It has to be something, because you were doing everything right.  But just as you go to follow the girls into the arena, a skinny arm shoots out and you smack right into it.   

“Sorry,” Felix says.  He drops his arm and smiles.  “I just need to see your ticket.” 

“My…?”  You look ahead at the group of girls, but they are already gone.  Oops.  “Ha, ha,” you say, looking at Felix. 

He is staring back at you, still smiling a close-lipped smile.  He blinks a couple times then lifts an eyebrow.

“Uh, ticket?” he says.  He holds out his hand.  

“Right,” you say.  You smile at him with all the saccharine sweetness you can.  “I have funny story about that, Felix,” you say. 

“Hm.”  His smile turns into a line, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.  “And what’s that?” 

“Well, you see…”

It’s all you say before you bolt, fast on your feet.  You sprint for the entryway behind the guarded queue.  There’s a crowd inside and you’re an expert at disappearing into a crowd.  You just need to get in there and find your boys then you are home free.  Hwang Hyunjin, here you come. 

There’s just one problem.  

Felix is fast.  

Like, track star fast.  Like, road runner fast.  Like, you’re that dumb coyote getting an anvil dropped on your head, except this anvil is a skinny blue-haired Australian with a voice like a god and the apparent hidden strength of one too. 

You make it a few desperate steps before Felix literally sweeps you off your feet.  You shriek when he hauls you under his arm, dragging you away from the stadium door.  He deposits you a few feet from the queue then swiftly resumes his position. 

“Hello,” he says to the next person in line.  “Sorry about that.  Ticket?”   

Your mouth is agape.  

No one has ever got the jump on you like that.

“Hey!” you say, but Felix has moved on.  He is smiling at the next guest as he checks their ticket, not paying you any mind.  “Excuse me,” you say, despite the people between you and him.  “I think there’s been a misunderstanding.  I do have a ticket.”

“Uh-huh,” Felix says.  He doesn’t look at you, scanning someone’s e-ticket with a little device.  It lights up green and he smiles at them.  “Enjoy the show,” he says. 

You jump into the queue, cutting off the next person.  Felix’s smile vanishes and is replaced with an astoundingly sassy expression.

“Uh, this line is for ticket-holders,” he says. 

“I have a ticket,” you say.  You unzip your purse and spend a minute rifling around, ignoring him when he sighs.  He apologizes to the people behind you.  You turn and offer a tight-lipped apology of your own.  “I was in line,” you say, as if they didn’t just witness this ten-pound bully haul you around like a sack of potatoes.  “There was just a misunderstanding.”

Felix rolls his eyes. 

You pull out your cell phone and flip through a folder of fake screenshotted tickets, hoping at least one of them marginally resembles the tickets for tonight.  You pick one and flash it at Felix. 

“Happy?” you say with a lot of false indignation.  You turn off the screen when Felix goes to grab your phone.  You give him a snooty, squinty-eyed look, then saunter right past him. 

This time when he comes after you, you are better prepared for his speed.   You zig-zag and he stumbles, cussing very unprofessionally.  You make it all the way to the door before he grabs you.  You have no idea where he is getting all that muscle because he feels like a sturdy stick when you grab at him, but he puts you over his shoulder like it’s easy. 

“Um, excuse me!” you shout.  “Hello!  Someone film this!  I’m being assailed!”

Felix intentionally jostles you on his shoulder.  He is even less gentle when he drops you this time, though you do manage to keep your footing. 

“Try that again,” Felix says, “and it will be trouble.  Got it?” 

Felix is very good looking.  He’s an incredible combination of pretty and handsome, not to mention that voice, guh.  But what gets you going is how much you are clearly pissing him off.  It’s hot.  Out of nowhere, the freckled sunshine sweetheart is just oozing confidence, standing square and pointing at you with a very stern expression.  And if you get a little hiccup in your blood, a little skip in your heartbeat, a little stampede southward that makes your pussy hum like the interested kitten it is, well.  That’s not your fault.  It’s his.  Asshole.

You flip him off.  He ignores you, shaking his head as he returns to his position.

“Sorry,” he says to the queue.  “Some people are so inconsiderate, aren’t they?”

Ugh. What a sexy bitch. 

You text to check in with the boys.  Minho made it inside, no surprise, but apparently Seungmin is also struggling for an in. 

what is with these security guards, Seungmin writes, are they military trained? fuck 

maybe you’re both just losing your touch, Minho replies.

never, you say.  we still have lots of time.  we'll get in there.  seungmin, meet me by the benches.  we need another plan.  

Usually, the best way to crash an event is with minimal attention and no theatrics.  It’s all about pretending you are exactly where you are supposed to be.  If you act like you belong, then you will.  

A spectacle is a desperate measure, but you are desperate people.  After a few hushed whispers on a bench, you and Seungmin spring into action. 

“Help!”  Seungmin shouts.  “My wife needs help!  Please!” 

“Your wife?” you whisper through gritted teeth, opening one eye to look at him.  You are currently laying on the pavement in a dramatic swoon, Seungmin hunched over you. 

“My companion of ambiguous relationship is hurt!” he says.  “Ouch,” he adds, because you swat his arm.

Fortunately, he does draw attention.  A few people run over, the beefy security guard one of them.  His nametag reads Changbin and he is in a black t-shirt at least two sizes too small.  You do not begrudge him this, as you would do the same if you had biceps like that.  

“What happened?” he asks, crouching down beside Seungmin. 

“My friend just passed out,” Seungmin says.  He hoists you into his arms as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.  “Is there somewhere inside I can take her to sit down?  I think all the chaos out here overstimulated her.” 

“One second,” Changbin says.  He pulls a walkie-talkie out of a holster.  It buzzes with static as he turns it on.  “Hey, we have a collapsed woman in front of Entry Door B.  Can I have back-up clear a path, and someone with First Aid training?”  The walkie-talkie buzzes again and Changbin puts it away.  He stands up, waving away the small crowd that has gathered.   “Yah, everyone back up!  This is an emergency!” 

“It’s really not,” Seungmin says.  He scoops you into a bridal hold then struggles to lift you off the ground. “I just need – whew – somewhere I can – agh – put her down.  I can just – AH! – carry her myself.”

Naturally, it is at that moment a familiar voice descends from above. 

A familiar, deep, Australian-accented voice.

“Move aside, please.”  

“Oh no,” you say, eyes closed.   You open them just in time for a glitter-faced, freckled, blue-haired pretty boy in a SECURITY windbreaker to cut through the crowd.   

Unfortunately, Felix is just as good looking at this angle.  He waves away the gathered onlookers as he approaches, but looks at Changbin first. 

“I have First Aid,” he says.  “What happened?”

“I just found her collapsed,” Changbin says.  “Her friend thinks it’s the crowd.  Should we bring her inside?” 

Felix looks at you.  The concerned furrow in his brow immediately gives way. 

You smile innocently. 

“No,” Felix says, frowning.  “We shouldn’t.” 

“Oh come on,” you say.  You smack the ground.  “I collapsed!  I need help!”

“No, you need a ticket,” Felix says.  He crosses his arms and stomps a foot.  “Seriously, what is wrong with you?  Some of us have a job to do, you know?”

“Naaaur ya need a ticket, mate,” you say in a mockingly deep chest voice. “Some of us have jobs ya knaaaaur!”

“Do you guys know each other?” Changbin asks, looking between you and Felix – who is growing increasingly red in the face and breathing much harder. 

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Seungmin says. 

“Ah!”  Felix yells, spinning to Changbin.  “She doesn’t have a ticket!  She’s just trying to sneak in!”

“She doesn’t have a ticket?”  Seungmin asks, gasping.  He drops you onto the concrete, ignoring your yelp of pain.   “But I thought she – she told me we – I – I –“

You watch in betrayed horror as Seungmin pretends to faint, flopping down beside you on the concrete.  You sit up, very tempted to slap him across the face but not wanting to give Felix more reasons to accost you. 

“Seungmin,” you say.  You grab him by the shirt and rattle him around like a ragdoll.  “Seungmin, you bastard, don’t even think about it!”

“You.”  Felix stomps up behind you.  “Get off the ground and come with me.” 

“No,” you say.  “I don’t want to and you can’t make me.” 

You shriek – again – when Felix grabs you under the arms and hoists you to your feet.  He manhandles you with only a modicum of effort, dragging you away from your stupid traitorous best friend. 

You step on Felix’s foot deliberately and he swears.  For such a pretty thing, he sure has a filthy mouth.  You grab a fistful of his hair and tug, to which he cusses up a storm and pries your hand off his head.   

You hear the distinct buzz of Changbin’s walkie-talkie.    

“We have a collapsed man in front of Entry Door B.  Can someone who isn’t going to start fighting the patrons come help me move him?”

“He’s faking it!” you cry in protest, watching Changbin scoop Seungmin off the ground. 

Changbin disregards your outburst.  Seungmin gives you a thumbs up behind his back.  Felix, of course, doesn’t see it because he’s too busy dragging you away.  You are left to sputter in bewildered protest at the injustice of it all. 

Felix marches you to the sidewalk, far away from the stadium queues.  You are both out of breath by the time you get there.  Even so, you attempt to manoeuvre under his arm to run away.   In a few quick moves, he knocks you onto your ass. 

 “Holy fuck!”  You are panting now.  A line of sweat dots your hairline.  You wipe at it and stare morosely at this stupidly competent minimum wage security guard.  “What are you, like some kind of karate master or something?”

“Taekwondo, actually,” he says, brushing off his jacket.  Then he tips his head and stares down at you.

You would be lying if you said the intensity of his stare didn’t have your heart racing for an entirely new reason.  Danger and desire have always danced a close dance for your tastes.  Felix is not helping matters, tucking back loose strands of vibrant hair as he looms over you, wetting his bottom lip and staring. 

You cross your arms and feign nonchalance, but you can’t look away from him.  When he crouches down slowly to meet you at eye level, everything below the belt goes pitter-patter. 

“No ticket,” Felix says slowly.  “No concert.  Do you understand me?” 

You stick out your tongue.

“Wow, mature,” he says.  His departing farewell is another snarky eyeroll.  He shakes his head as he stands, muttering to himself in obvious frustration. 

So much for not a mean bone in his body.  That bully is all business.   

So hot. 

You huff and puff for a bit.  Your phone is going berserk in your purse, probably the boys trying to reach you.  Eventually you succumb to the necessary confession of your twice thwarted efforts.  Minho teases that you are losing your touch for real.  It makes angry little fireworks pop out of your ears.  

Plenty of occasions you have assessed a situation and deemed it unreasonably complicated, but quitting while you’re ahead is not the same thing as admitting defeat.  You do not lose.  This isn’t even about the concert anymore.  Fuck Hwang Hyunjin, he was never worth the pain of a wax in the first place.  No.  This is about your pride.   This is about your dignity.  This is about your honour. 

You are getting into that concert, one way or another.   

First, you gather intel.  This comes in the form of snooping, running between queues to figure out the easiest mark.  You don’t judge the guards by their appearances this time, because apparently this security team has secret taekwondo masters hidden in their midst. 

You watch their every move, calculating and determining your odds therein.  Based on visual research and Minho’s confirmation, it seems your best bet is the smiling guard who let Minho through.  His nametag reads Jisung and he is a veritable flirt. 

Flash him your tits, Minho texts.

Uh, no, I’m not that desperate yet.       

Second, with your intel now acquired, you get into the dwindling line.  The sun is almost set and a breezy summer chill dances across your cheeks.  The concert will be starting soon.  You shuffle behind the other stragglers, adjusting your outfit.  The jean shorts hug your hips and flash a nice chunk of thigh, and your shirt is already low cut but you figure another tug won’t hurt.  You also pull your flannel down your arms to look as flirtatious as possible. 

Jisung is barely looking at the tickets as he scans them, chatting merrily to the guests as he lets them through.  You pull up a random ticket on your phone, something to hold out while you distract him. 

“Hi,” you say. 

His eyes flick down to your chest, then back up.  He smiles brightly.

“Hi!” he says.  “You look nice.  Excited for the concert?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you say.  “You have no idea how much I’ve been waiting for this.  It wasn’t easy to get in.”

“I know what you mean,” he says.  “Tickets are hard to come by, and so expensive!”

“Ugh, tell me about it,” you say, leaning in while he scans your phone.   This was a bad idea because he looks down at your chest again, just in time for his little device to flash red.

“Oh, oops!” he says.  He smiles at you as he shakes his device.  “Sorry!” he says.  “I think you showed me the wrong ticket.  Could you pull up the right one?”

“Ohhh!” you say, looking down at your phone with fake surprise.  Life is so unfair.  “I’m so sorry… Jisung.  Hehe, that’s such a nice name.”

“Haha, thanks,” Jisung says.  “My parents picked it, but, yeah, it’s cool.  Anyway.”  He wiggles his device.  “Ticket please!” 

You keep smiling and giggling, even as you turn around under the guise of searching through your phone.  You glare down at the stupid device, keeping your back to Jisung while you do so.  How the fuck are you getting out of this?  You flip through screenshots then open your text messenger.  Minho’s last words of wisdom blink up at you. 

Apparently, you are that desperate. 

With a sigh, you put your phone in your purse and zip it shut.  You shrug your shoulders and plaster that fake smile on your face again.  With a swift of flick of your thumbs, you lift your shirt and bra up over your tits and spin around to look at Jisung. 

“How’s this for a ticket—”

Jisung looks surprised and delighted.  Jisung, however, is standing a few feet back.  Probably because he was told to step back.  Probably by Felix who is standing in front of you with his arms crossed and an unimpressed look on his face.  

“Wow,” Felix says.  “Just committing crimes now, are we?”  

You shove your tits back into your bra indignity, not even embarrassed, just annoyed. 

“Tits aren’t a crime,” you say. 

“Public indecency is,” he replies.  

“You’re… publicly indecent…”  Not your best comeback.  You glare at him while fixing your shirt.  “There’s no way they pay you enough to be riding my ass this hard.” 

“They don’t,” Felix says, grabbing your arm.  “Believe me when I say riding your ass has been my pleasure.”

“Twisted fuck,” you reply. 

You wave at Jisung as Felix tugs you away.  He waves back but does nothing to rescue you, because all men are traitors. 

You groan loudly as Felix leads you away from the stadium yet again.  “Just let me innnnn,” you whine.  “Why do you hate meee.”

“I don’t even know you!” Felix says.  He deposits you on a bench and takes out his phone.

“What are you doing?” you ask, eying the device.

“What do you think I’m doing?” he asks.  “You tried to break into a ticketed event three times.  You faked an injury.  You flashed yourself in a public place—”

“I wouldn’t have done any of that if you just let me through in the first place!”

“You cannot be serious.”  Felix looks ready to rip his hair out.  “You don’t have a ticket!  Why would I let you in, why would I – AH!  Why am I arguing with you!  Be quiet, I’m phoning the police.”

“The po— the police?!  How dare you!” You try to stand but he pushes you onto the bench one-handed.  He holds you there, palm on your shoulder, still way stronger than someone this scrawny should be. 

“Fine!” you exclaim.  “Fine!  You win!  I’m sorry, Felix, I was wrong.  I was wrong and you were right.”

Felix pauses.  “Really,” he says, sounding unconvinced. 

“Yes!”  You look up at him with the saddest, most watery eyes you can muster.  “I just wanted to see the concert but it was stupid to think I could break in.” 

He turns off his screen.  Success.   You watch him slip his phone in his pocket. 

“It’s not about being smart or stupid,” he says, the ire gone from his voice.  It takes a lot of willpower not to bite his fingers when he pats your shoulder.  “It’s about the fact we can’t always get what we want,” he says kindly as he crouches in front of you.  His hand goes from your shoulder to your knee, still patting it in a friendly manner. 

You bite your tongue because you want to tell him you liked him better when he was being a mean bitch, but that would be counterproductive to your escape attempt. 

It turns out, you don’t need to say anything, because he decides to be a bitch again anyway.  Felix looks at you with a too-sweet smile and says, “It’s about time someone taught you that lesson.”

“Um, excuse me?” you say, aghast.  You clasp your hand over your heart.  “Just who do you think you are?  First of all, you taught me nothing, I’m still a horrible bitch and I lied when I said you were right.  Second, you absolutely can get everything you want, you just have to want it enough to get it.  But you wouldn’t know anything about that.  You know why, Felix?” 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head like he expected this, which he probably did, but you’re too far gone to retreat. 

You reach out and cup his face in both hands, turning it to you.  Those sharp eyes are unflinching, even with your fingers on his face.  You try really hard not to gulp. 

“It’s because you are a good boy,” you say.  “You always do what you’re told.  You always follow the rules.  I bet everyone thinks you’re the nicest guy on the team, don’t they?  I bet they call you cute little nicknames and all the nice little girls think you’re a sweet, innocent baby.  And you are, aren’t you, Felix?  You’re just such a good, good boy.  But me?  I’m not good.  I’m not bad.  I just like to win.  When I want something, I get it, because I chase it, and I don’t stop until I get it.  Until it’s all mine.”  You lean in close.  “Get it?” 

His gaze darkens, brows pinching.  You take his fleeting moment of vulnerability to shove him onto his back.  He sprawls on the ground with a surprised yelp.  You sprint away at top speed and flip him off over your shoulder. 

It’s a haphazard ploy at best but you are fresh out of plans.  What you need is distance between you and Security Guard of the Year, a breather long enough to come up with a final plan.  Maybe you can physically break in somewhere: an office window, a janitorial stairwell, something.  

You keep an eye out for potential openings as you run. 

And run.

And run. 

Hmm.  You’ve been running a long time.   Even with the head-start, Felix should have caught you by now.  You doubt he would have truly given up.  Felix had a deranged look in his eye, similar to the one you get when someone is trying to beat you at your own game.  He doesn’t want you to win anymore than you want to lose.  You suspect it isn’t about the concert for him either; this is a personal battle. 

You come to a gradual stop, hands on your hips as you catch your breath.  It’s quiet on this side of the stadium as the queues were on the opposite end. 

Quiet, yes.  Too quiet.   

There’s a stairwell that leads to second level just above your head.  Felix is good.  You have to give credit where credit is due.  If you weren’t a scheming nightmare with a penchant for con-artistry, he probably would have caught you.  But without turning around, you know he booked it up the stairs and is two seconds from springing an attack. 

You take off running, just in time for him to thump into the grass beside you.  You laugh at his strangled cry of frustration as he scrambles to his feet. 

Around the next corner is the parking lot.  You stop a split second to look over your shoulder and see him hot on your heels.   He discarded his jacket and is in a loose sleeveless shirt, revealing he does have some light toning to his lean body.  But you don’t stop to measure how proportionate it is to his strength, because he is focussed on you like a laser. 

Then he smiles.  A slow, slinky smile like a cocky predator about to swipe at its prey.  That cat has claws, nasty ones, and you almost want to get tangled in them.  Almost.  You want to win even more.   

And he just set you up for success.  There’s a SECURITY jacket on the ground somewhere nearby.  That’s your ticket in.  You just have to lose Felix in the parking lot and loop back around to find where he tossed it. 

You spare no time setting that plan into action, giving Felix a smile of your own before you run.  He thunders after you.

The pair of you weave in and out of parked cars.  He disappears for a second behind a row of trucks.  You whip your head around to figure out where he went, only for him to summersault around the corner and cut you off.  You yell instinctively but narrowly dodge his reaching hand.   He curses, running after you with his arm outstretched.   You duck behind a trailer and lose him, scurrying between some SUVs.  You peek at him through the windows, watching him turn in a circle to find where you went.  Smiling to yourself, you quietly but quickly back away.  

You leave the lot and run back the way you first came.  You find Felix’s jacket draped on a random bush. 

Your heart is practically singing with adrenaline.  Victory is in sight.  You push yourself to run faster and reach out with both hands –

— only to find yourself rolling in the grass, Felix’s arms tight around your middle as he tackles you to the ground. 

You push and pull at each other, cursing and scrambling very ungracefully.  You get out of his arms but he climbs on top of you, then you knee him in the gut so he rolls over, but when you start crawling he grabs your ankles and drags you back. 

Ultimately, he Taekwondo Masters you onto your front, hands clasped behind your back.  You kick your feet and wail despondently into the grass as he kneels over you, breathing raggedly and swearing again. 

“You’re a monster!” you shout.  “You’re a tyrant and a bully and you have no right to – HEY!”

He handcuffs you.

“Ha.”  He leans in close, speaking right into your ear.  “I win.” 

“That’s not fair,” you say.  “You can’t just—ahh!”  You wail in petulance as he lifts you onto your feet.  His grip on your bicep is unyielding so you are forced to stomp alongside him as he escorts you…

…back to the sidewalk.

“You’re not busting me?” you ask in confusion.  You thought for sure he was going to drag you into some shady office and plop you in a chair until the police arrived.   He would probably be super boring and professional about it, staring at you with his dumb horny eyes but not doing anything about it.  Nothing sucks more than being all trussed up by a pretty boy with manners. 

“I just want you to go and never come back,” Felix says. 

“Fine.”  You turn around and hold your arms straight behind you.  “But I’m like a wolf, Felix.  I have your scent for life.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says.  “Not how wolves work by the way.  But fine.”

“Oh wow, sorry.  Didn’t realize you majored in Wolfology.  You got any other fun facts?”  

“You are so—”

You smirk at his grumbling.  You are just biding your time until he uncuffs one wrist, then you whip around faster than he can compute the action.  With one cuff still attached, you grab the second and clamp it down on his wrist.  He sputters in bewilderment, at which point you snatch the keys.

“What are you doing—”  He tries to grab them but your joined hands make the angle too awkward.  You spin around together in a few circles, bonk heads twice, until finally you reel back and chuck the keys as far into the distance as possible. 

He stands there, mouth agape.  You tap your foot impatiently. 

When he realizes what has happened – that you have handcuffed yourself to him and thrown away the keys – he looks at you with fiery eyes, fierce enough you stumble.  He yanks your joined hands, the chain ungiving.  You watch as he goes through several stages of grief in a matter of moments.  Then he closes his eyes and breathes in and out.    

“Why,” he says slowly, “did you just do that?” 

“I dunno, Felix,” you say.  You plop down on the ground and sit cross-legged.  It forces him to bend over, your cuffed wrist dragging him down.  “Guess we’ll have to go inside and get some back-up keys.  And when I’m in the stadium and you uncuff yourself from me, I promise not to run away.”   

“That’s your plan?” he snaps.  “That’s your plan?” 

“What, is there an echo out here?”

“That’s your plan?” he asks again, his deep voice pitching up an octave.  He crouches down and shoves his free hand into his hair, shaking his head.  “This can’t be happening,” Felix says, more out loud to himself than you.  “Why is this happening.  Oh my god.” 

You squeak when he tugs on the chain, yanking you close, nose to nose.

“What if I just called for back-up?” he asks. “Or skipped that and went right to the police?  How would you get out of that?”

“Wait,” you say.  “Why aren’t you doing that?” 

“Because.”

He leans back as far as he can, sitting on his heels.  You duck your head, trying to meet his eye to no avail.  He clenches his jaw.

“Felix,” you say.  “Why aren’t you just calling for back-up?”

“Because,” he says through gritted teeth.  “The handcuffs.  Are.  Not.  Regulation.” 

You look at each other.  There is a long moment of silence. 

Then, “What!”  You cackle with complete and utter abandon. 

A very unamused Felix glares at you while you throw your head back and laugh. 

“You?” you cry, poking your finger against his chest.  “You?  You?  You are just walking around with a pair of handcuffs that you aren’t supposed to have?  What the fuuuuuck—”  You think you might die laughing. 

“Jisung gave them to me before our shift!” he exclaims.  “It was a joke because— Never mind! I don’t have to explain myself to you!  Hello.  Hello.”  He grabs your chin with his free hand and turns your face roughly to his.   He jingles your joined hands.  “Not regulation,” he says.  “There are no other keys in this building.” 

Silence falls again. 

Then, “Oh.”  You stare at him.  “Shit.” 

A minute later, you and Felix are scuttling around trying to find the key.  You must have a very good arm because it landed near the stadium and disappeared in some bushes.   

You and Felix keep forgetting your wrists are connected, reaching in opposite directions only to snap back together.  You are certain you are going to end the night with a few bumps and bruises. 

The entire time you are searching for the key, Felix is grumbling irritably.  He tears his way through a bush, his deep voice pitching up with a miserable whine when he can’t find it. 

“This is so stupid,” he says.  He throws a stick at the wall.  “I am a good worker.  I never break the rules.  I am not getting in trouble for this. You did this.  You did this to me.” 

On he goes, grumble, grumble, grumble, bitch, bitch, bitch. 

“It’s not like the key disappeared,” you say, pushing some pebbles around.  “It has to be here somewhere.” 

It is starting to get dark, the sky a deep purple.  The stadium lights blare down on you.  Felix uses his phone flashlight to beam extra light at the ground.  The only time he stops grumbling is when the noise in the stadium changes, the concert clearly beginning.  He takes time out of his busy searching schedule to give you a mean smile. 

“When we find those keys,” you say, “I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and leaving you to freeze to death in your stupid tank top.”

“It’s not a tank top,” he says.  “It’s a t-shirt.  I cut the sleeves off.  And when we find those keys, I’m handcuffing you to that railing over there and phoning the police.”

“Well then,” you say, “may the best key finder in a slutty tank top win.” 

“It’s not a tank top.”   

You continue to search.  It is utterly illogical that the keys would just vanish but the longer it takes, the more concerned you get.   It just doesn’t make sense!  Things don’t just disappear!  The keys landed somewhere over here, so they have to be…

You see it first.  You sit there in a stunned stupor.  You swat at Felix with your cuffed hand.

“What?” he says without looking at you.  You continue to slap him until he forces your hand down, tangling your fingers with his.  “What!” 

You point.  He crowds in behind you to look over your shoulder.  You feel him exhale. 

“Please don’t tell me…”   

You both lean to look down the sewer drain.  He flashes his phone light over it.  Something silver glints back in the darkness. 

“Fuck!” Felix says.  He doesn’t stop there.  What follows is a string of cusses so unbelievably foul and complex that you honestly believe it should quality him for Pulitzer in poetry.  When he has exhausted every expletive in several different languages, he plops down on his ass and stares up at the sky with mute despondency.   

“So what happens now?” you ask.  “Do we fuck?”

“What?”  He looks at you with utter bewilderment.  “What the fuck?  Why would you suggest that?  What would that solve?”

“Nothing,” you say.  “But it would kill the time and couldn’t make things worse.” 

“You are insane,” he says.  “I am handcuffed to an insane person.” 

“Hey, ‘mate’, you were the one with the non-regulation handcuffs in the first place.  I could solve this problem real quick by phoning the authorities myself and saying some crazy guy put me in cuffs.” 

“I dare you,” he says.  “Try.”

“No,” you say.  And not just because you have a record with the police and they would never take your side.  But Felix doesn’t need to know that.  Well, you suspect Felix is smart enough to guess it, but he doesn’t need the confirmation.  “I’d rather make you suffer,” you say instead.  You sit back in an insouciant slouch like the whole circumstance is beneath your attention.  “Figure it out, pretty boy.” 

“Well,” he says, “apparently if you break your wrists then you can force them through the cuffs.”

“Ew!” You push him in the middle of his chest.  He doesn’t fall, but he does glare at you.  “We’re not doing that!  What a stupid plan!  You’ve been guzzling the hair dye fumes, buddy.  Think of a plan that doesn’t involve injury, thank you.” 

“I didn’t want to do this,” Felix says with another put-upon sigh, “but fine.  I have another pair at home so the keys—”

“Wait,” you interrupt.  “I thought someone gave you the cuffs today?  Why do you have another key at home?”

“I have another pair,” he repeats, “of the same handcuffs.”

“You—”

“Already own a pair, yes, move on.”  He aggressively pushes hair out of his eyes.  “He clearly bought it from the same place so my key should work for this one too.”

“So despite your uppity school boy routine, you do own non-regulation handcuffs and not just as a joke.  Wow, Felix.”  You giggle helplessly.  “Be careful or I might start to like you.” 

He is glaring at you, no surprise, but the tips of his ears blush pink. 

“Let’s just go,” Felix says.  “The sooner I get you off, the sooner I can forget about your existence.”

“You can get me off as fast or slow as you like—ahh!” 

Once more, the secret superman is manhandling you onto your feet.  Without pausing for breath, he turns and marches away.  You are forced to stumble behind his swift strides, your hands swinging close enough that your fingertips brush every so often.   

“How do I know you’re not gonna murder me?” you ask.

“You don’t,” he replies.

“How do you know I’m not gonna murder you?” 

“I don’t.”  He sounds more annoyed than afraid.  “But it sounds better than being cuffed to you forever.  I’ll take my chances.  Come on.” 

“Not like I have a choice,” you grumble. 

He comes to an abrupt halt and you crash into him with a sharp exhale.  He grabs your hand and tugs you close. You blink at him with surprise while he tips his head in that studious way.

“You’re right,” he says. “You don’t.  In fact, it’s almost nice, you forced to finally do what I’m asking.  If you’re not careful, it might even make me like you.” 

It is so cold and sarcastic. 

It gets you so hot. 

Seriously, what is with your stupid brain?  How does it cross the wires of fear and desire like that?  Felix is speaking at you with that deep, dark, nasty voice of his and your heart should be skipping beats in concern, not because you think he’s sexy when he’s being a bitch.  

You hide it from him well enough, glaring at him like he glared at you.  He just snorts and shakes his head. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Interesting,” he replies.  “Very interesting.”   

“What?”

“Nothing.”  He smiles politely, for a moment looking like the unassuming pretty boy you thought he was.  He bats his long eyelashes at you, smiles a coy smile, and squeezes your hand.   “Come on,” he says.  “We tried this your way and it got us in trouble.  Time to be a good girl and do it my way.  No, stop, don’t say anything.  Be quiet.  Just walk.  Let’s go.” 

You stumble when he tugs you after him.  Your mouth is hanging open yet again.   

You are proud to say that in your many years of bad girl shenanigans, you have never truly met your match.  You’ve played pretend a few times, let a couple losers think they won, if only because you liked the game of it.  But no one has ever really taken control.  No one has ever really beat you.  No one has ever come close. 

No one.  Until today. 

You glare at the back of Felix’s head, brain stampeding as fast as your heart.   Because finally, you’ve found him, your perfect match.  Lashed to you through the metal manifestation of fate’s red string. 

You didn’t know what game you were playing before, but now you do.

And you’re going to win.  

[hederasgarden]

Okay you’ve mentioned several times about Scott’s breeding kink, so I just need to know how he’d react when he finally knocks his girl up. Or how he’d be with a pregnant reader, especially if they’re with Storm Par or Tyler’s crew and is out chasing storms all day

On Tuesdays my movie theatre does $6 movie tickets and with reading all your Scott and Tyler stories I’m thinking I need to go see Twisters again!

I love this ask so much!

This might surprise people who think I'm going to say he’ll become all mushy and sweet, but I think he’ll turn into an even bigger asshole. His worst qualities will come out during this time because there are so many variables he can’t control and deep down he's worried about you and the baby but probably not able to articulate it. This will manifest as him trying to exert even more control over the situation to manage his anxiety. Expect him to argue about you being out in the field with Storm Par, especially if it’s storm season. He'll have 100 different reasons why it's unsafe and won't relax until you're sitting safely in your office.

You’ve been with Scott long enough to understand how he operates, and you know his actions are driven by his desire to keep you and the baby safe and healthy. That doesn't make him less annoying though because as soon as he finds out you're pregnant, he’ll be reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and diving deep into the latest research. Once he’s armed with all the facts, he’ll obsessively monitor what you’re eating and doing, quoting the book chapter and verse.

Those prenatal vitamins you picked up at CVS? He’ll throw them straight in the trash and tell you to take this fancy brand you’ve never heard of, claiming it’s verified by an independent lab and superior to your drugstore brand.

That cute little mobile you want to hang over the crib? Absolutely not — it’s a strangulation hazard. The old bassinet your aunt wants to give you? That’s going in the trash too because, from an engineering standpoint, it looks structurally unsound and is probably covered in lead paint.

He’ll be annoyingly confident about everything right up until the moment the baby is born. When the doctor hands him his son and he looks down at that tiny, scrunched-up face, all he feels is a wave of panic. How are the two of you supposed to take care of this fragile little thing? This is a person, not a problem to be solved and accounted for.

He’d never outwardly panic, but he knows you can see through him when you say his name softly and reach for his hand. 

"Look at me," you'd whisper, smiling at him — tired, sweaty, and beautiful after going through hell to bring his son into the world. You would look so at ease and happy that suddenly Scott would know everything would be okay because you’d be right beside him.

Together, you've got this.

Talk Shop Tuesday

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 31: Voyeurism/Exhibition - Remus + James/Sirius

Kinktober Day 31: Voyeurism/Exhibition - Remus xf!reader + James/Sirius 

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, dubious content, making out, james/sirius being meanies, flirting, anxiety, teasing, voyeurism, exhibition, masturbation (male), listening to sex, thigh riding, oral (f receiving), praise kink, intense orgasm, multiple orgasms, spooning sex, sucking fingers, size kink, squirting, cockwarming, nicknames, no use of y/n

A/N: Here it is, the final kinktober day!  Thank you to everyone who has read, left a comment or liked any of the chapters, I really appreciate every single one of you. Bring on next year!

my main masterlist 📚 // kinktober masterlist😈 // AO3 Link 

It was late in the evening, almost everyone had already retired to bed but not the four of you. James and Sirius were positioned on the sofa, discussing the latest game of quidditch that they’d played against Hufflepuff, not that you were listening.

No, you were more invested in the soft lips that were steadily moving against yours, the faint rough feeling of stubble brushing against your cheeks and the overwhelming smell of Remus’ cologne turning you into a puddle in his lap. His tongue began to gently move against yours, head tilting to move deeper, your fingers gripping his collar as if your life depended on it as he was leaving soft strokes against your skin.

It was only as pure silence surrounded you, making you keenly aware that James and Sirius had stopped talking did you stop. Pulling away from the kiss abruptly, you glanced over to see them both watching you intently, sly smirks on both of their faces.

“Don’t stop on our account darling”, Sirius remarked, eyes almost black as they trailed up your body. Heat enveloped every inch of skin as you quickly hid your face in Remus’ neck, pure embarrassment pulsing through you.

“Aww don’t be shy” Remus coos at you, attempting to pull your head back so you were forced to look up at him. “You can’t be embarrassed by a little bit of kissing when they hear us most nights”.

Even more heat radiated from your body as your heart began to pound in your chest. “I thought you put a silencing spell around the bed?” you asked, begging in your mind for him to be lying.

“I do… some of the time”, your eyes drop, hands falling into your lap.

“Oh, Remus you feel so good! ah, Remus just like that! Please Remmie don’t stop!” Sirius teased in a high-pitched voice, James laughing along with him. Your thoughts were on overdrive, thinking about the hours and hours you’d had sex with Remus and they’d actually heard some of it, heard your most vulnerable and intimate of moments.

“Alright, boys that’s enough” Remus chastises them whilst laughing at your expression, pulling you closer to his body. “Let’s go to bed baby, get away from these meanies”.

Remus helps you up and you could hardly look him in the eyes let alone his friends as you rushed up to the dormitory. Heart still pounding as you removed your trousers, and shirt and slid into bed before your boyfriend had even made it into the room. He too removes his clothes before climbing into bed, lying in the centre and holding you on his chest just as James and Sirius entered the room.

With a flick of his wand, the curtain around Remus’ bed began to close but not before James muttered, “goodnight sweetheart, don’t keep the noise down tonight”.

You tried to ignore him and cuddled in close to Remus, closing your eyes but you couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as your boyfriend's body heat warmed your body, lips kissing your hairline softly and hands gently massaging your spine to help relax you. It didn’t work, however. Had they actually heard you? Been listening to the numerous times that the two of you had had sex? But also, why were you becoming slick between your legs at the thought of the two of them in their beds getting turned on by just you having sex?

“Remmie” you whispered, knowing sleep wasn't going to be coming to you anytime soon.

“Mmm,” he responded, opening his eyes to look down at you, his large hand settling on your head, massaging it just the way you liked it.

“Do you actually let them listen to us?” you kept your voice quiet so the others couldn’t hear you.

Remus smirked in the darkness, then began shifting in the bed so that he moved down, turning on his side so the two of you were face to face, his warm breath caressing against your cheeks. His large fingers cradled your cheek, thumb stroking against your cheekbone in a positive distraction as you were quick to nuzzle into the soft touches.

As he answered, he slide his thigh between your legs, letting it rest against your pantie-covered centre, “would you be angry if I did?”

“But why-why would you do that? It’s so embarrassing Remus” you muttered with anxiety dripping in your tone.

“Shhh sweet girl, it’s not embarrassing, it’s liberating” as he spoke, your boyfriend shifted closer, kissing your cheek where his hand had been caressing, once again trying to distract you. “Do you know how fucking hot it is knowing that just your sweet moans are making other guys touch themselves, wishing that they were me? I couldn’t be greedy and keep those beautiful sounds of you cuming to myself now could I?”

You attempted to respond but found yourself stuttering over your words, not sure what to say, instead of being embarrassed, you were being turned on by his confidence-boosting revelations. “But-but that-”

Remus’ lips are on yours, cutting off your unknown sentence, shutting you up effectively.

“Want to know something? Whilst you’re making these soft little moans that I love so much”, Remus moves his thigh higher, rubbing against your cunt. “I get you all to myself whilst they’re only left with their hands, therefore, I. Win.”

Your skin felt like it was burning, hands delicately trembling on his shoulders as his sinful mouth trailed open-mouthed kisses down your chin and jaw.

“Remmie” your head tilted back as you moaned his name, still trying to remain quiet. Remus continued to hover over your body, hands gripping onto your waist, his thigh still rubbing against your cunt, leaving you wanting more, a good distraction.

“What do you want? Do you want me to stop?” he asked in a teasing manner, not giving time to answer before his head was moving south and his full lips were sealing around your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth. Your back arched, trying to move closer, hands gripping painfully into his hair, holding him to you. Releasing your nipple with an audible ‘pop’, he looked at you in the darkness, “or do you want me to keep going?”

You were so lost in his touch, you weren’t even sure you could respond. It was like there was an angel and a demon on either shoulder, one begging you to continue, needing him to touch you more but the other bellowing to stop, knowing James and Sirius were likely listening to the encounter, feeling embarrassed.

Remus felt the tension and rested his weight on his arms on either side of your head, “I won’t continue unless you talk to me, I want to hear that pretty voice of yours”.

As he spoke, his thigh moved rougher against your soaked pussy only causing you to moan rather than talk, eyebrows knitting together as your fingers moved from his shoulders to his defined chest, you knew what you wanted.

“I want you Remmie, please don’t stop” you finally coherently spoke, eyes closing as you zoned into the pleasure that was shooting between your legs. Your boyfriend didn’t respond with words, instead, his lips were instantly on yours, feverishly kissing, nipping your bottom lip until it snapped back, tongue dancing with yours until both of your lungs were aching from lack of oxygen.

With less than an inch between your faces, he whispered into the darkness, low enough that the other boys didn’t hear, wanting the reward for you and only you. “Good girl, my good girl”.

You groaned at the praise, feeling confident once more as he shifted down the bed, easing your panties down with him before his hands eagerly gripping onto your thighs, pushing them back until your knees were almost either side of your head, completely exposing your dripping cunt to him, he could see the wetness even in the dark.

All you were able to do was grip his hands on your thighs before his tongue was pushing between your folds, lapping up every drop like a starved man. The thick muscle delved into your quivering hole, stretching it slightly before sucking your throbbing clit into his mouth.

He watched over your mound, eyes watching your every movement. Seeing the way you were so intensely being pleasured, his mouth touching every part of your pussy with skilful licks.

Turning your head to the side, you were conscious to muffle your moans, hiding your face into the pillow. “Let me hear you, it’s ok baby, you’re safe with me, let me hear you”.

The kindness in his voice had you melting on the spot, especially as he released one of your thighs to inch two fingers into your cunt whilst simultaneously sucking on your clit. You didn’t need to be told twice as you released an almighty, throaty moan that caused Remus to smile against your bundle of nerves.

This was when you heard another distinctive voice in the room, muffled and quiet like they’d been trying to hold it in, but another male definitely grunted “fuck” from one of the other beds. However you truly didn’t care, the thought of Sirius and James in their beds, hands wrapped around their cocks as they listened to you being pleasured by your boyfriend had your centre burning and clenching hard around his fingers.

Remus chuckled as he felt your arousal heighten, “knew you’d like it, baby”. With each passing second, he increased the speed of his fingers, curing them deliciously against that beautiful spot that had you nearly seeing stars, thighs trembling as that tightening coil appeared in your abdomen.

“P-please” you begged, not needing to ask for what, Remus knew exactly what as he pumped his fingers harder, licking back and forth against your clit, still watching your every movement from between your legs. Pure, shocking pleasure erupted through your body, clenching and shivering as you screamed out, twisting away on instinct as his touch became too much.

Remus’ hands massaged up and down your spine, soothing you through the intense orgasm, his cock painfully hard from seeing you mewl and twitch on your side. “You did so well baby, good girl, that’s it, take a deep breath”.

Hazily, you followed his instructions, taking a deep breath, hips still bucking as the pleasure soothed down until a light hum settled over your body leaving you blissfully satisfied and shyly grinning up at him in the dark.

Remus smiled back, kissing your bare shoulder as he spooned behind you, his clothes having now disappeared at some point as his warm skin met your back. One of his arms settled beneath your head as you nuzzled into it, smiling as his cock brushed your slightly overstimulated centre. His tip was soon pushing in, your warm wetness spasming around his veiny length, loving the pain and pleasure that came from his thicker size.

“Fuck,  you’re so tight”, Remus grunted, lips kissing lazily against your neck as his other hand moved your leg over his, giving him better access. Another male moan could be heard from the other side of the room, and the faint sound of slapping from a fist up and down a cock.

“Ah you’re so big!” you moaned, feeling absolutely full of his cock. Remus hummed, gently biting your shoulder as his fingers trailed over your peaked breasts, tweaking the nipples that only caused your cunt to clench.

Remus knew he needed to go slower in this position, not wanting to hurt you as he began pulling out. You were openly moaning, not caring who heard as your walls were caressed by his member, in and out he slowly moved, making sure to push all the way in until your cervix was bumped before withdrawing.

Your hands were trying to grip onto the back of his head but kept slipping and ended up falling into his hand that was until your head, his large hand easily being able to hold both of your hands so you were at his mercy.

The spiral of moans that were leaving your lips was only echoed by the two men that were listening, both of their eyes closed in concentration and only adding to the smirk across Remus as he had you all to himself.

Feeling your muscles relax slightly, Remus increased his speed, the bed shifting with his thrusts, thighs slapping together as you repeatedly shouted his name like a song. He was just so big for you, almost sure that if you glanced down you could see the bulge of his cock appear and disappear with his movements.

This also meant that you were already close to cumming again, wanting to feel that tightness building, needing it to take over your body. Remus did too as he once again increased his pace, furiously fucking you from where he lay on his side behind you, hand moving between your legs to rub on your clit, swiping back and forth.

“You hear them baby? Hear how you’re pleasuring three men tonight, not just me, gonna make us all cum just from those pretty little noises”. You almost cried out just by his words, feeling wetness slashing out as you began to squirt as the peak of your orgasm was taking effect. “That's right, squirt over my cock, cum for me baby”.

He hadn’t even finished his sentence as you followed his instruction, cunt pulsing around his member, squeezing him tight as he didn’t stop fucking you, each time he pulled out, more squirt would coat his cock and thighs.

Remus didn’t give you time to recover as he chances his own high, feeling you relax again beneath him in the post-orgasm state, his fingers that had been playing with your bundle of nerves now pushing against your lips. You opened automatically, sucking his fingers, finding comfort in the moment.

“Good girl, suck my fingers, that’s it, taste yourself on me” Remus grunted against the back of your neck. At the same time, a boisterous “fuck yes” was yelled followed by a string of heavy moans as James came into his hand.

In your cock-drunk mind you half processed this fact, still sucking on his fingers as you clenched your cunt, causing Remus to moan desperately, his hips moving hard and fast until, “fuck- yes, ah” he quivered, stilling his hips as his cock throbbing, releasing his cum into your warm centre. Only a second later and Sirius was shouting with his own release, breathing hard, sweat glistening on his brow.

You smiled around Remus’ fingers, feeling him also smiling against your shoulder. He didn’t pull out, he never did in this position, only removing his fingers to touch your cheek, turning your face to the side so he could kiss the corner of your mouth before collapsing onto the bed.

“Good girl, get some sleep” he whispered quietly, again for only you to hear, not for the other two in the room.

Not another word was said as you relaxed into his hold, feeling his cock becoming softer but still wedged into your cunt, his cum ready to spill out and you felt a thrill go through you as it usually did during your sleep, leaving you to wake up in a sticky mess that Remus always felt a possessive obsession with seeing. The scent of sex was thick in the air, hot and humid as everything had changed between the four sleeping in that dormitory, the morning was sure to bring fun activities. 

[lina-studen]

theory time: what unites all the students at nevermore academy?

tw: death, violence, blood, all the bad & sad stuff.

considering that nevermore academy is a kind of purgatory, there has to be a reason why it holds such a small number of people. in this realm must be plenty of places where different people, united by one characteristic, end up after death. this was also confirmed by the authors.

for a long time now I've been following the theory that all the characters of "nevermore" are united by the way they died. namely, they all were murdered.

almost from the very beginning of the story we were aware that annabel lee was murdered. the same thing was stated in the latest chapters too.

ada was clearly also brutally murdered by the nobleman she loved. the poor girl's body was probably never found. I'm afraid no one really looked for it though.

recently we also learned that duke didn’t just drown. his magical performance was sabotaged by a person unknown to us.

the cause of pluto's death was not specified in detail, but I'm inclined to believe that he was strangled by his tyrant father (and my baby felt a huge relief, I'm crying).

berenice was hit by a car, but I'm pretty convinced that it counts (?), because she was running away from a bad person. especially if we take into account the story of the poe's character with the same name.

oh, and I almost forgot about montresor, although there have been a lot (too much) of him lately. well, he was thrown under a train. not much to add.

the only people who stand out from the general pattern so far are prospero and eulalie. eulalie died in a fire. the exact cause of prospero's death is unknown to us, but with a high probability it was caused by some kind of disease, presumably the plague. however, I wouldn't rush to write these two off. the fire could have been the result of arson. not necessarily for the sake of killing poor eulalie. but in any case it's a deliberately arranged action. remember, in the eyes of the public, duke's death also seemed like an accident.

and the final chord of prospero’s life could have been, for example, not the disease itself, but a medical “mistake” during the surgery or something like that.

phew, feels really nice to finally have a platform to share some thoughts! and what do y'all think? it'd be interesting to read your theories.

[froggiewrites]

Picture You (3/4)

Pairing: Sanji x Reader, Zoro x Reader

NSFW

Summary: The crew is celebrating their latest victory when they find you on their laps, drunk and clingy and affectionate, begging for attention. Sanji and Zoro both deal with a clingy drunk, and have deal with the unwanted feelings it brings from deep within them. Warnings: Not Actually Unrequited Love, Smut, Hurt/Comfort (comfort is finally here), Praise Kink (Sanji) Word Count: 3.9k Crossposted from Ao3 Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

She can’t be sure, but she thinks Sanji and Zoro are avoiding her.

Her head was fuzzy after last night, having a little too much sake and not enough water, but thankfully she was spared from her usual pounding hangover. She has some residual embarrassment from getting so bold with her friends, but she can deal with that. Or she could, if their response was teasing instead of…whatever this is.

At breakfast, Sanji wouldn’t look her in the eye, didn’t fawn over her as usual, and scarfed down his food uncharacteristically quickly so he could focus on washing dishes instead of finding excuses to avoid her gaze. When she tried to stay back to help, he had practically shoved her out of the kitchen (or as close as he could get without laying a hand on her), insisting it was his job, not hers. She wanted to ask him if it had really been so awful, to learn that she wanted him, but she feared that would somehow make it all worse. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, as she clearly had done last night.

She wanted to go to the crow’s nest at first, take a moment to herself, but she knew Zoro was up there, and he was acting even worse than Sanji. At least Sanji had stuck around for breakfast. Zoro had been in and out so quickly she had almost missed him coming in at all, only seeing him because Luffy had called after him when he was leaving. She thought last night he had reciprocated her affections somewhat, as much as a man that stoic would be willing, but maybe she had read him wrong. Maybe she was drunk and touchy and ruined her relationships with the two men in the world she cared about the most. Or maybe this would blow over in a few days. Most conflicts on the Merry seem to go that way, passing so quickly it’s like it never happened at all.

Maybe she can go back to pretending she doesn’t think of the two of them as more than friends. To pretending that her heart doesn’t skip a beat whenever they smile at her, whenever their hands brush hers, whenever they do nearly anything.

But maybe she doesn’t want to.

She thought they felt the same. And last night she had felt some things that showed they’re at least attracted to her. She had really, truly convinced herself that this was reciprocal. That they wanted her. It can’t have all been in her head.

She needs to talk to them. To figure it out. If they really don’t want her, she’ll leave it alone, but she can’t relax in this tension. Even the rest of the crew feel it, tiptoeing around her as she sits on the deck and ponders. Who to start with?

At least Sanji could stand being in the same room as her. That was a start. She could talk to Sanji while giving Zoro some more time to cool off, and hopefully by the end of the day things would be better. Normal. They would look at her again, smile at her again, even if they didn’t want anything more.

She made her way to the kitchen, steps quicker than usual in an attempt to not lose her nerve. Her knuckles rapped lightly against the door, and though she didn’t hear a call to come in she did so anyway.

She can see his back, the tension in his shoulders obvious even from a distance. He’s still washing dishes, proof of his distraction. On a normal day he would have finished long ago and already started on lunch prep. He doesn’t even look up when she walks in, too lost in his own thoughts to spare a single one to his surroundings.

“Sanji?” Her voice comes out meek and small, though she had tried hard to keep it steady.

He flinches like he’s been hit. He whips around, hands still covered in suds, and addresses her. “Oh, my love! So nice to see you. Do you need something?” His voice is strained, and he isn’t looking at her.

She sighs. “I wanted to talk to you, actually. Do you have some time?”

His eyes flick to the dishes as he clearly battles between his own discomfort and his instinct to listen to her. She can see the exact moment the latter wins. “I have a little time before I need to start lunch. Are you alright?”

“No, actually, I’m not. A dear friend of mine is avoiding me, and it’s really hurting my feelings.”

He frowns, guilt spilling across his features. “I’m sorry, dear. Is this about Zoro? Because I can go–”

“Are we going to pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He still won’t look at her. His eyes are fixed firmly on the wall behind her.

“Do you really–Are you really that repulsed by me?”

“What?” His eyes fly to her, wide and confused. He sounds truly and genuinely shocked she could think that.

“This is the first time you’ve looked at me all morning, Sanji! I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but god! Is it that awful to think that I’m attracted to you? You don’t have to like me but avoiding me like this is…I just can’t stand it. I care about you too much to let that put distance between us. If you don’t want to be with me that’s okay, but please, please don’t avoid me.”

“I…” His mouth is agape, and he’s clearly struggling for words. She would fill the silence for him, but she’s a little too busy holding back tears at the idea that he hates her. “You think you’re the problem here?”

“What else could it possibly be?”

“Me?” He says it like it’s so obvious, like he doesn’t believe she could come to any other conclusion.

“How are you the problem here, Sanji? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His eyes soften, and his lips quirk up into a horrible, self deprecating smile. Like he pities her for not being able to see something wrong with him. “Angel, I did. Of course I did. You could never wrong me.”

She can tell that he really believes that, that she is infallible. It makes her chest ache, in a way she can’t quite put into words. When he does that, when he praises her, he’s putting distance between them. Putting her up on a pedestal as though purposefully keeping her out of reach. What happens when he puts her up so high she can no longer reach down to him? When she tries and ends up falling?

“What do you think you did wrong, sweetheart?” She keeps her voice soft, choosing her words carefully. He looks delicate now, almost fragile, a far cry from his usual quiet strength. She wants to reach out to him, to comfort him somehow, but she knows from somewhere deep in her that one wrong move would shatter him.

“I–” She can see his hands are shaking, though he tries to hide them in his pockets. “I took advantage of you. When you were drunk. I shouldn’t have let you do that. I should have–I should have been better.”

Ah. There he goes again, blaming himself for every single thing in the world, whether it’s his fault or not, no matter the severity. Putting himself on the cross before someone else gets the chance to do it for him. “Sanji, I know I was a little tipsy, but I knew what I was doing. And I threw myself onto you. On purpose. Of my own free will. You didn’t do anything other than welcome me.”

“No, you don’t get it. I…I used you, and then I left.” He’s blushing up to his ears, shifting on his feet. His eyes leave hers again, and she resists the urge to grab his chin and make him look at her. To make him look in her eyes and see the way she looks at him, to try to show him the adoration and affection she carries.

“You’re allowed to leave if you’re uncomfortable. You never have to stay if you don’t want to. And you didn’t use me, you just reciprocated what I was doing. And I–” She clears her throat, cheeks turning a little pink. “I enjoyed it. A lot.”

“You did?” His eyes flick up again, almost hopeful.

“I did.” She takes a tentative step forward, searching for signs he might flee. He lets her approach, looking frightened and confused and guilty still, but he does not run. “I always enjoy when I’m with you.” She continues forward, the sound of her feet tapping against the kitchen floor echoing between them.

He breaks the tension with a whisper so quiet she nearly misses it.

“Am I allowed?”

“What?” She didn’t and couldn’t understand his hesitation.

“Am I–” he chokes a little, as if holding back a sob. “Can I want this? I’m not–I don’t deserve you.”

She can’t hide the concern on her face. “Honey, what do you mean by that?”

“I’m…you don’t understand how awful I am.” He looks on the verge of tears, and her heart breaks at the sight.

“Sanji…” She brings her hand to his cheek, and he leans into it instantly. He allows his eyes to flutter closed, choking back another sob, and her chest hurts when she realizes how little it takes to make him melt like this. What has his life been like, for him to treat such a small gesture as though it were his lifeline?

“I think about you.��� His voice is so soft she barely hears it. He’s trembling, and she’s almost scared he’ll collapse.

“I think about you too.”

His eyes burst open, and he rushes to speak. “No, darling, I don’t think you know what I–”

“I know exactly what you mean, Sanji. And I think about you too. Constantly.” The hand not on his cheek gently rests on his chest. “I think of your hands, so gentle and so very talented. I think about your lips, and I wonder if they’re as soft as I’ve imagined. I think about your chest, what it would feel like to grab it.”

“Darling…” He’s looking at her in a new light, one he doesn’t seem to have imagined her in before. He had known wanting, yearning, until his chest threatened to cave in. But he had never once imagined being wanted.

“I’ve thought about your cock, what it might look like. What it would feel like.” He chokes again, and she suppresses the embarrassment of saying such things aloud. He needs to know. “I’ve thought about you pinning me against this very counter and doing whatever you wanted to me. Or doing whatever I wanted to you. Depends on the day.”

He swallows thickly, his eyes blown wide with lust, and she hopes with everything in her that her eyes aren’t deceiving her, and that he wants this as badly as she does. She let the hand on his chest slowly slide down, very slowly, giving him a chance to stop her, to tell her no, but his eyes hold nothing but hope and lust. She stills stops at his waistband, giving him another chance to deny her. To pull back, to let nothing change. He whimpers when she does.

“If you want me, you need to say it, Sanji.” Her own voice is thick with lust, and he moans when she speaks.

“I want you. Oh god, do I want you.” His hands were shaking as he reached for her. “Please, please, can I want you? Can I touch you?”

“Yes.”

Before she can say another word, their lips are crashing together, and his hands are on her. One behind her back to pull her closer, the other on her right breast, squeezing and searching. His fingers find her nipple through her shirt, and she lets out a squeak against his lips. At the sound, his hips rut forward, and for a moment she can finally feel that he truly does want her just as much as she wants him.

Her hands meet at his chest, where they frantically start unbuttoning his shirt. She needs to feel his bare skin now, the thought silencing anything else in her brain. As his shirt falls open, her hands wander, across his abdomen, across his chest, his shoulders, anything he can reach. He’s so warm and firm, so wonderful. Her fingers brush against his nipples and he moans into her mouth, pulling their hips even closer together.

He breaks their kiss for a moment and she lets out a sad whimper, one that makes it difficult for him not to immediately crash their lips back together. His hands reach for the hem of her shirt, slowly revealing what lies beneath it. His breath catches when he sees her chest, though her bra is still blocking most of what he wants to see. Even the outline of her, just the impression, was enough to leave him breathless. He throws her shirt aside, fingers finding the clasp of her bra, and he’s finally able to see what he’s been dreaming about.

“Oh my love,” he moans, “you’re even more beautiful than my dreams. More than I could have possibly imagined.”

Before she can respond, assure him that he too was better than her wildest dreams, her mouth is on her chest, nipping, sucking, and she’s helpless. She lets out a pathetic keening noise that sends heat to her cheeks but she quickly learns also sends some right to his cock. He grinds against her as his teeth graze her nipple, and she lets out a cry that she is sure someone outside could easily hear.

“Oh god, darling, I could listen to you forever.” His fingers hook on the waist of her pants before slowly pulling them down, revealing her thighs and panties. The look on his face is intense, hot, and hungry. He starts to reach for her underwear before she catches his wrists in her hands.

His eyes shoot up, imploring her to let go, to let him keep going. “Not yet, Sanji. Can you wait for me?” Her voice is sweet, and he melts in reply.

“Of course, darling. Anything for you.”

“Can you strip for me, dear? I want to see the rest of you.”

He’s unzipping his suit pants before she can even finish her plea. He slides out of them easily, revealing long lean legs she’s admired dozens of times when he wasn’t looking. How wonderful it is to admire them now that she knows he is. Now he can see her want, how beautiful she finds him. His eyes are on her, mouth slightly agape, as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Her eyes are fixed on his lower half, slowly inching their way up to his groin, and she looks happy. Thrilled, honestly. She wants him so badly she’s practically drooling. If he weren’t so desperate to touch her again he could live in this moment forever, the moment where it finally began to feel real.

But he wants to touch her so badly, feel her come undone beneath him, so after he kicks off his pants and shoes his fingers slide below the band of his boxers, shoving them down quickly, with no pomp or circumstance. Even without a dramatic reveal, he takes her breath away as his cock slaps against his stomach, long and hard. It suits him perfectly, she thinks. It’s the last coherent thought she has.

“Can I touch it?” She asks softly, her voice filled with awe.

“Please,” he whimpers. She reaches out slowly, taking it in one of her hands. It’s warm, and the sound he makes when she touches it, god it is heavenly.

“I think you may be an angel, Sanji,” she confesses. “I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

She expects him to flirt back, to say some cheesy line he had ready, but instead he keens so sweetly and his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in her hand. “Oh, do you like that, sweetheart?”

He lets out a delicate whine.

“Oh, darling, if only you had told me before. I’ve been holding back for so long.” She starts to stroke him slowly, her voice saccharine. “You’re the prettiest man I’ve ever seen, really. I truly mean that. Every inch of you. When we first met I almost thought you couldn’t be real, that no one could look like this.”

He moans again, his hands gripping the counter so hard his knuckles are turning white. “I thought the same thing about you.”

“Oh, did you?” She laughs a little. “That’s nice to hear.”

“If you–hng–” he struggles to speak, but he manages anyway. “If you keep that up I won’t last very long.”

She gives him one last stroke before letting go, instead allowing her hands to wander up to rest behind his neck. “I wouldn’t mind, but I should probably stop there. I think I’ll go insane if I don’t feel you inside me.”

Another whimper.

“Well, Sanji, since you’ve been so good,” another whine, “why don’t you finally take what you want?”

He looks at her with a look that borders on worship. “Can I?”

“Yes, Sanji, you can.”

Suddenly her back is against the counter, her panties are off, and he’s groaning as he lines himself up with her hole. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats like a prayer.

When he finally thrusts she sees stars, and the feeling of fullness makes her cry out. He rests for a moment, allowing her to adjust to the feeling, and then he’s moving, hands firmly holding her hips while he pistons into her.

“Sanji!” She can’t help but call his name, and he groans. She wants him. She wants him, she’s holding him against her, pressing their chests together. She’s crying out for him, clenching around him, and she’s happy. It’s better than anything he imagined, anything he dreamed or prayed for, and the feeling is so overwhelming he doesn’t realize he’s crying until her hands are wiping away the tears.

“Oh, Sanji. Let it all out, sweetheart.”

And he does. He pulls her impossibly closer, hips crashing against hers, and he cries, burying his face into her neck, taking in her scent and warmth and beautiful voice.

“You’re doing so good, Sanji. You’re making me feel so good, darling.” He slams into her even harder, almost hard enough to bruise. He’s crying so hard it almost turns into sobs, and he pulls her closer, leaving not a single inch of space between them. She’s here, she’s real, she wants him. She thinks he’s good.

She kisses the top of his head tenderly, her hands rubbing his back. “So wonderful, Sanji. So good. I’m so glad you’re here. I’m so glad we’re doing this.” Even as she’s assuring him, he can tell she’s coming apart at the seams, barely managing to keep her voice steady, and he smiles against her through the tears. He’s doing this. This is all him. Something good is finally coming from him.

“Love you–oh god. Love you. Love you, angel.” His voice is strained with both lust and tears, but he forces it out anyway. She needs to hear. He needs so badly for her to hear. He retains just enough of his mind to reach down for her clit, a gentleman even now, as he’s falling apart in every way possible.

“Love you too, Sanji. Need you, god! You’re doing so good. Such a good boy, Sanji.”

With that he breaks, breaking his face out of her neck to crash their lips together again as he came, filling her to the brim. The feeling of him twitching inside her, still rutting against her, combined with his calloused fingers on her clit brings her over as well, has her moaning against his lips. He continues to thrust through both of their orgasms until they’re both well and truly spent, before they both collapse against the counter.

They sit there for a while, just holding each other, before reality starts to set in. They’re in the kitchen, with the door unlocked, with an incredibly nosy crew who might have heard any of that.

“We should probably–”

“A few more minutes?” His voice is soft, muffled against her neck. She can’t bring herself to refuse him.

“Of course, angel.” His head moves from her neck to her breasts, his ear resting against just above them, listening to her heartbeat. Confirming again that this is real, that she is here, and that this heart is beating for him. Her hands move to run through his hair, soothing him in a way he didn’t know was possible.

“This was real, right? You meant everything you said?” His eyes are imploring, still red-rimmed from his tears.

“Yes, Sanji. I meant every single word.”

His smile makes her chest ache. She didn’t know he could look like that, so free and unburdened.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“We should…probably get dressed.”

She laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

He grabs a clean washcloth to clean them both up, doing the work as gently and meticulously as he does everything, before throwing it in with the dirty rags. Hopefully one of them is on laundry duty this week. They both get dressed together, an act that feels somehow even more intimate than the sex. She carefully buttons his shirt back up, rolling up his sleeves, as he slips her bra back on and clasps it. Neither of their hands wander, only gently touching the places that require their immediate attention.

Once they’re both fully dressed, his arms find her again, pulling her close. Her head is pressed into his chest, tucked under his chin. She can feel his chest rumble as he talks. “So you need to go find Zoro now, yeah?”

Her chest tightens. “I–”

His chuckle cuts her off. “It’s alright, my love. I just need to know.”

“I…need to know why he’s avoiding me. If he’s okay.”

“And nothing else?” His tone is almost teasing.

“I don’t know.”

“It’s alright if it is.”

She pulls back to look at his face, to search it for any signs of dishonesty. She finds nothing but adoration, and a small amount of pride. “It really is, dear. I just want you to be happy.” And his smile turns into something more of a smirk. “And…I was first, anyway.”

The boyish glee on his face almost dismisses her concerns. Almost. “It’s really alright? You promise? It’s alright if it isn't. You’re allowed to be unhappy with it.”

His smile softens again, one of his hands resting on her cheek. “I know, dear. I promise you, it really is alright. All I want is for you to be as happy as you possibly can be, and I know that bastard swordsman feels the same. It’s probably the only thing we’ll ever agree on.” He kisses her forehead tenderly. “So go talk to him, say what you need to say, do what you need to do, and make sure you’re both back in time for dinner.”

“You–Honestly, Sanji, I think you might be too good for me.”

“Darling, I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

He kisses her again, lips soft and warm, before sending her on her way to the crow’s nest for her next confrontation.

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter three.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: high enough by k. flay.

author's note: we're well on our way. this is a shorter(ish) chapter, but that just means that you might get the next one sooner rather than later. as always, please enjoy the banter and sarcasm.

Angel’s Trumpet was going to be the death of you. 

You were convinced of it.

The multiple failed attempts to brew the wretched draught hung over you like a pall and followed you into your second week. When Wednesday night finally rolled around, you were in a proper foul mood. You couldn’t even bring yourself to take more than one bite of lasagne, which was usually your favorite. 

Beside you, Luna set the latest copy of the Quibbler down and looked over at you with concern. “Still having trouble with potions?” 

You nodded, sighing in frustration. “It’s this bloody Angel’s Trumpet. I’ve read over the recipe so many times that it’s practically ingrained into my subconscious, but I just can’t seem to get it right.”

Your roommate smiled faintly. “I know,” she said in her breathy voice. “You do come up with some rather creative curses when you’re studying.” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Loons, have I kept you up with my late night ranting again?” 

“No need to apologize. The wrackspurts are truly doing a number on everyone, not just you. They’re especially rampant during the start of term.” Her dreamy eyes sharpened into something that resembled mischief. “And how are your sessions with Theodore going?” 

The faint smile on your friend’s face told you that she definitely knew more than she let on. Besides you and Theo, Luna was the only person in Hogwarts who knew about your secret little dalliances. She had figured it out rather early on last year when you and Theo kept mysteriously disappearing at the same time. It was a shame that everyone underestimated her. Luna Lovegood was the most astute person you knew. 

You had absolutely no doubt that your secret was just one of many that Luna had uncovered by simply being observant. After all, teenagers weren’t exactly covert even if they were witches and wizards. 

“Miserably,” you finally answered. 

Much to your annoyance, Theo had not let up since the weekend. Day after day, he dragged you into the potions lab with varying disastrous results. Just the other night, the damned cauldron spewed magenta liquid like a geyser, effectively soaking you and Theo in pepto bismol pink like a demented water park ride. No amount of scourgify could wash away the shame. 

Luna laughed. “Pansy said that Theo spent hours scrubbing potion off of his fancy leather shoes.”

“Pansy?” you asked incredulously. “As in, Pansy Parkinson? Since when are you two the best of friends?” 

Your friend shrugged nonchalantly, but you clocked the slight flush in her cheeks. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to replace you. Pansy and I just have a few classes together, that’s all.” 

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is she being nice to you? I swear to Godric if she even says one mean thing I’ll stick a broom up that witch’s ar—“ 

Luna held her palms up. “I appreciate the concern, but I assure you Pansy is very nice.” 

That wasn’t entirely convincing, but you trusted Luna’s judgment. As protective as you were over your friend, you knew that she was perfectly capable of handling herself. 

“I just worry,” you said, patting her shoulder. “Those little serpents have teeth.” 

“Oh, I think you’re more familiar with the Slytherins and their teeth than I am.” 

“Loons!” 

She smiled unapologetically. “Speaking of which, here comes your serpent now and he does look poised to bite.” 

You turned just in time to see Theo marching down the aisle with two of his housemates. The curly headed one, Mattheo Riddle, swaggered on his right and winked at you. Flanking Theo’s left side was Enzo Berkshire, who gave you a polite wave. He was by far the most tolerable out of the lot of them. You wholly ignored Mattheo, but acknowledged Enzo with a nod. 

Theo, on the other hand, you openly glared at. “To what do I owe the displeasure?” 

Every head at the Ravenclaw table turned towards your direction. Though your housemates liked to think they were above the petty drama, Ravenclaws were some of the worst gossips in this school. Three Slytherins walking amongst their midst was as juicy as it got. 

Completely unfazed by the attention, Theo slid in next to you on the bench. “Someone’s got their wand in a twist.” 

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I’ll twist more than just your wand if you don’t leave me the hell alone, Nott.” 

Mattheo smirked. “Oh, I like her.” 

The glare you shot his way was full of venom. “The feeling is not mutual.” Enzo fought a smile as Mattheo gaped. You ignored the both of them and turned back to Theo. “Who are they supposed to be? Your cronies?” 

“Merlin, she never truly lets up, does she?” exclaimed Riddle. 

Theo grinned. “You have no fucking idea, mate.” His expression faltered when he saw the ire dancing in your eyes. “Right, I know that look. Leave us before she decides to turn you two into toads.” 

The boys reluctantly backed away. Beside you, Luna followed suit but winked behind her shoulder as she left the Great Hall. Luckily, Theo’s back was turned to her. 

“What do you want?” 

“Glory, riches, power. The usual,” he deadpanned. “What do you think I want? I've been waiting for you at the lab for half an hour.” 

“I can’t,” you said dismissively. “Not tonight.” 

“Oh, yes you can. I’m too invested to give up now. I am going to teach you how to brew Angel’s Trumpet even if it kills me.” 

“I’d prefer to skip the brewing and get right to the fun part.” You didn’t even notice that your bantering had stopped every conversation at your table. Everyone watched as you menacingly twirled your wand. “Shall I buy a new dress for your funeral?” 

Theo smirked, seizing your wrist. He lowered his voice and spoke quietly so only you could hear. “I’d rather see you wear my jumper again.” 

“Let go of my hand and I’ll be sure to turn up to your wake donning your beloved jumper.” 

He sighed in frustration. “I’m serious about the draught, diavolina. We’re trying again. Tonight.” 

“Was my last try not humiliating enough?” 

“There’s definitely room for improvement. Avoiding turning the lab into a slip and slide would be my first suggestion.” His mouth quirked in amusement. Prick. “Aside from that, I think I finally figured out the missing ingredient.” 

“And that would be?”

“Relaxation,” Theo answered proudly. “You’re way too uptight and it’s feeding into your magic, hence all the explosions.” 

You scoffed. “You want me to relax? I have literally never relaxed in my entire life. I came out of the womb stressed about taxes.” 

Theo snorted. “That’s exactly why I’m here. Let the expert teach you, sweetheart. Being relaxed means being confident and being confident means success.” 

“You do know that confidence and arrogance are two different things, right?” 

“Do you want to brew the bloody potion or not?” 

The fact that Theo was the one motivating you to do school work was only slightly despairing. “Fine,” you conceded. “Teach me how to relax, oh Great Master.” 

“Tucking that away for names I’d like for you to call me in bed.”

“Pervert.” 

“Don’t slut shame me, Y/N. We all have our kinks.” 

“Great. Mine is committing acts of violence against snarky Slytherins.” 

“This snarky Slytherin rather enjoys your acts of violence. Especially if it involves your smartass mouth on mine.” You flushed in response, which only made Theo smirk in satisfaction. “Now, come. We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” 

The Astronomy Tower was the last place you expected Theo to take you to. He didn’t really strike you as a stargazing type of guy, but then again, you probably didn’t strike people as the type of girl who slept with her academic rival out of spite. 

Maybe you both had layers. Layers upon fucked up layers. 

The thought almost made you laugh hysterically as you silently watched Theo transfigure his robe into a blanket. He laid it gently across the wooden floor and beckoned you over. “Sit,” he said simply. 

“This is awfully romantic of you. You take a lot of girls up here, Nott?”

“Only uptight little Ravenclaws who’d rather vex me to death than enjoy a stunning view of the stars.”

You snorted. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

He rolled his eyes and patted the spot next to him. “Sit. I won’t ask again.” 

To be fair to Theo (a statement you never thought you’d make), the stars were stunning tonight. You sat cross legged on the blanket and watched as constellations twinkled in the horizon. If you were up here with anyone other than the present company, you might’ve found it rather nice. 

But alas, this was Theo you were talking about. It was only a matter of time before he ruined it somehow. Probably with a lascivious comment. 

“Why are you sitting like you’ve got a stick up your arse?” Bingo. “Even more than usual, I mean.”

“Maybe you’re the stick up my arse.” 

“Don’t joke, darling.” Theo quipped, placing a hand over his chest. “You know I’ve been asking for months.”

“Do not make me push you over that railing, Theodore.”

“Jokes on you, I find your threats incredibly arousing. I’m pitching a tent in my trousers just thinking about it.” 

You rubbed your temples. “How is irritating the shit out of me supposed to be relaxing?”

Theo grinned, reaching into his pocket. “Because, I have this.” 

With a proud smile, he produced a tightly rolled blunt. 

“That’s your big idea?” you asked, wrinkling your nose at the joint. “Taking me to the highest tower in the castle and getting higher than a hippogriff so we can potentially fall down the stairs and break our necks?”

“It’ll help with your nerves.” 

“The only thing wrong with my nerves is that you’re always on them.” 

He smirked, sticking the joint between his lips. “You’re deflecting. What’s the matter, diavolina? Scared to partake in the devil’s lettuce?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh for fuck’s sake, give it here.” Theo’s eyes widened as you took the joint from his mouth and stuck it in yours. “Well? Are you going to light me up or not?”

He shook his head in mild disbelief before pulling a lighter out of his pocket. You squinted at the silver Zippo, which had initials engraved on the front. The writing was too faded for you to read.

“I got tired of Mattheo stealing my lighters,” he explained. “This way I don’t lose track of it.”

The initials weren’t what surprised you. It was the fact that Theo even had a lighter in the first place. Most wizards just used magic to conjure fire. They certainly didn’t go around carrying muggle inventions in their pockets. It almost made you feel like you were back home in London, bumming a cigarette off some drunk after a night out in the pubs. 

“Why not use incendio?”

Theo shrugged. “An irritating know-it-all once told me that not everything has to involve magic.”

It was strange to hear him echo your words. 

None of it made any sense. Theo would’ve had to venture into a muggle shop to buy that lighter, which was unheard of for a pureblood. Especially not one whose family was part of the now disbanded Sacred Twenty-Eight. The idea of Theo walking around Camden Market to purchase a Zippo was more disorienting than the drugs. 

This little discovery did not line up with what you thought you knew about him. You squinted at him in the dim light, inhaling deeply. The smoke filled your lungs and clouded your senses. Yet one question remained even as you exhaled. 

Who the hell are you, Theodore Nott?

Sensing your gaze, he watched with a small smirk as you passed the joint over to him. It seemed impossible for the drugs to be taking effect so soon, but you found yourself mesmerized as Theo took a long drag. Smoke curled around his mouth as he leaned back on his elbows, tipping his head back to gaze up at the moon. 

“Why the Astronomy Tower?” you asked after a few moments. 

Theo shrugged. “It’s nice up here. Quiet. It helps to get away from the noise.” 

“Strange. I’d become convinced that you sometimes speak just to hear the sound of your own voice.” 

A set of dimples appeared on Theo’s cheeks. On anyone else, it might’ve been endearing. “Close. There’s also the added bonus of annoying you.” 

You didn’t try to stifle your laughter. “Yes, I suppose that sweetens the deal.” 

The two of you sat in silence, passing the joint every so often and quietly contemplating the stars. The absence of noise was jarring. You couldn’t remember the last time that you weren't surrounded by noise. Ravenclaws were a chatty bunch. Whether you were exchanging the newest piece of gossip or bragging about academic achievements, there was always this constant exchange of information. 

Your brain was hardwired to process input. Without it, you felt sort of like a toddler who had just gotten their comfort blanket ripped away from them. 

“Stop fidgeting, Y/N,” Theo commanded with his eyes closed. “You’re supposed to be relaxing.” 

You frowned, picking at your nails. “I don’t think it’s working. Either your drugs are rubbish or my neurosis is canceling it out.” 

He opened one eye lazily. His body language was languid, like he was floating through air. You envied him for it. “Just take a deep breath and empty your mind.” 

“I know that may be easy for someone whose thoughts are typically vacant, but I’m not wired that way. I can’t just turn off my thoughts.” 

Theo sighed and propped himself up on his elbows. He stared at you for a second before his eyes lit up with realization. “Of course. I’m so stupid.” 

“No argument there.” 

He rolled his eyes in response. “I’m trying to get you to relax the Theo way when we should be doing it the Y/N way.” 

“What does that even mean?” 

“Think of the one place in the castle where you feel most at peace.” 

You cocked your head, contemplating. The answer came to you in an instant. “Okay. I’ve got it. What now?” 

Theo rose to his feet and offered you his hand. “Lead the way, diavolina. Show me how the chronically neurotic unwinds.”

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[mybelovedwoo]

midnight ramen and longing hearts

san x f!reader

fluff, childhood best friends to lovers, angst, suggestive / wc: 2.9k

note: they went on their first official date. it gets a little suggestive at the end, oopsie!! if you want to be tagged in any of my fics you can apply here <3

A few days had passed since San and Y/n had confessed their feelings to each other. Tonight, they were going on their first official date, a mix of excitement and nerves buzzing between them. They decided to keep it simple and meaningful by taking a walk along the Han River, a place that had always held a special significance for them.

The night was cool and clear, the city lights reflecting off the calm waters of the river. As they strolled along the riverside path, the familiar sound of water lapping against the shore and the soft murmur of other couples created a peaceful backdrop for their evening.

San walked beside Y/n, hands tucked into his pockets as he stole glances at her. She looked beautiful under the soft glow of the streetlights, her smile lighting up the night. They chatted easily, discussing Y/n's latest book and her friends, topics that made her eyes light up with excitement.

"So, how's that new book you're reading?" San asked, genuinely interested.

Y/n's face lit up with enthusiasm. "It's amazing! I'm in the middle of a really intense chapter right now. The protagonist is finally starting to realize her true strength, and the plot twists are incredible."

San smiled, loving how passionate she was about her reading. "Sounds like a page-turner. I might have to borrow it from you when you're done."

Y/n beamed at his words, feeling encouraged. "I'd love that. We could discuss it together."

As they walked, Y/n continued talking, her words flowing easily as she shared stories about her friends and their latest adventures. "So, Chaewon and I went to this new café last week. It was so cute, and their pastries were to die for. We ended up spending hours there, just chatting and catching up."

San listened attentively, enjoying the sound of her voice. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, to feel the connection they had always shared, but every time he tried, his nerves got the better of him. He'd awkwardly lift his hand, then quickly drop it back to his side, hoping she wouldn't notice.

Y/n, caught up in her stories, didn't seem to notice his struggles. She was talking a lot, her words flowing easily as she tried to mask her own nervousness. "And you remember Jiwoong, right? He finally got that promotion he's been working so hard for. We're all so proud of him."

San smiled, nodding. "That's great to hear. Jiwoong really deserves it."

As they continued walking, San felt his heart racing. He wanted so badly to hold her hand, to show her how much he cared, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. Each failed attempt made him feel more awkward, but he tried to focus on their conversation, hoping to find the right moment.

"And then there's Sua," Y/n continued. "She's planning this huge trip to Europe next summer. She's so excited about it, and I can't wait to hear all her stories when she gets back."

San felt a surge of warmth at how animated Y/n was when she talked about her friends and her life. He loved seeing her so happy and engaged. Slowly, he lifted his hand and gently brushed his fingers against hers. To his surprise, Y/n didn't pull away. Instead, she turned to look at him, her eyes soft and warm.

Without a word, Y/n intertwined her fingers with his, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. San felt a wave of relief and happiness wash over him. He squeezed her hand gently, and she squeezed back, a silent confirmation of their feelings.

They stood there for a moment, just holding hands and looking out at the river. The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them in their own little bubble of warmth and affection.

"This is nice," Y/n whispered, leaning slightly against him.

"Yeah," San replied, his voice filled with emotion. "It really is."

As they continued their walk, hand in hand, the awkwardness melted away, replaced by a comfortable silence that spoke volumes. They didn't need words to express how they felt; the simple act of holding hands was enough.

-

They were nearing a quieter, more secluded part of the river path when a group of rowdy guys approached them, clearly intoxicated. Their loud voices and unsteady steps signaled trouble, and San immediately tensed up.

One of the guys, a tall and scruffy-looking man, swaggered closer to Y/n, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Hey there, beautiful," he slurred, leering at her. "Why don't you ditch this guy and come have some fun with us?"

Y/n's grip on San's hand tightened, and she moved closer to him, her face reflecting discomfort and unease. "No, thanks," she replied firmly, trying to keep her voice steady.

San's protective instincts kicked in. He stepped in front of Y/n, shielding her from the group. "Back off," he said, his voice low and menacing. "She said she's not interested."

The drunk guy's friends laughed, egging him on. "Oh, come on, man, we're just having a bit of fun," another one said, stepping closer.

San squared his shoulders, his eyes flashing with determination. "I said, back off. Leave her alone."

The tall guy sneered, clearly not taking the hint. "Or what?" he challenged, shoving San lightly. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Before San could respond, Y/n spoke up, her voice shaking but defiant. "Let's just go, San. They're not worth it."

San glanced back at her, his eyes softening for a moment. He nodded, then turned back to the group. "We're leaving. Stay out of our way."

As they tried to walk past the group, the tall guy grabbed Y/n's arm, pulling her back. "I don't think so," he said, his grip tight and unyielding.

That was the final straw for San. Without thinking, he swung his fist, landing a solid punch on the guy's jaw. The force of the blow sent him stumbling back, releasing Y/n. The other guys, momentarily stunned, hesitated, giving San just enough time to pull Y/n away and start running.

"Come on!" San urged, holding her hand tightly as they sprinted away from the group. The sounds of angry shouts faded behind them as they put more distance between themselves and the troublemakers.

They didn't stop running until they were safely back in a more populated area, the bright lights and presence of other people providing a sense of security. Panting and out of breath, they finally slowed to a walk.

San turned to Y/n, his eyes filled with concern. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with worry.

Y/n nodded, her breath coming in quick gasps. "Yeah, I'm okay. Are you?"

San nodded, though his jaw was still clenched in anger. "I'm fine. I just couldn't let them treat you like that."

His mind replayed the scene, his anger simmering beneath the surface. He was usually the one to find peaceful solutions, always calm and composed. But tonight, seeing Y/n in danger had triggered a primal instinct to protect her, no matter the cost.

Growing up, his father had always told him, "San, you have to protect your girl. Always." Those words had echoed in his mind as he swung his fist, and they still rang in his ears now. He had acted without thinking, driven purely by the need to keep Y/n safe.

San took a deep breath, his protective instincts still on high alert. "Let's head back to my apartment," he suggested, his voice steady. "It's safer there."

Y/n nodded, trusting him completely. "Okay, let's go."

They continued their walk, moving quickly towards San's apartment. The familiar route felt reassuring, and San's presence by her side made her feel secure. They reached his building and headed up to the apartment he shared with his two roommates, Seonghwa and Mingi. Y/n knew them both very well, having spent countless hours here with San.

San unlocked the door and ushered Y/n inside. The apartment was warmly lit, a comforting contrast to the chilly night outside. Seonghwa and Mingi were in the living room, playing a video game. As soon as San and Y/n stepped inside, Mingi looked up with a mischievous grin. "Well, well, if it isn't the new couple. About time you two made it official. I always knew you both had feelings for each other."

San rolled his eyes, but a small smile played on his lips. "Not now, Mingi."

Y/n blushed, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Hi, guys," she greeted, trying to keep her voice steady.

Seonghwa, sensing that something was off, paused the game and stood up. "Hey, is everything okay?"

San nodded towards Y/n. "Y/n, why don't you go relax in my room for a bit? I'll be there in a minute."

Y/n hesitated, then nodded. "Okay. Thanks, San." She gave a small smile to Seonghwa and Mingi before heading towards San's room.

Once she was out of earshot, San turned to Seonghwa, his expression serious. "We ran into some trouble by the river. A group of drunk guys were being rude to Y/n."

Seonghwa's eyes narrowed with concern. "What happened?"

San sighed, running a hand through his hair. "One of them grabbed her. I... I punched him. I didn't want to, but I had to protect her."

Mingi's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by genuine worry. "Are you both okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine now. I just didn't want Y/n to feel more uncomfortable by talking about it in front of her."

Seonghwa nodded, placing a reassuring hand on San's shoulder. "You did the right thing, San. Protecting her is what's important. If you need anything, just let us know."

"Thanks, guys," San said, appreciating their support. "I think she just needs some time to calm down."

San took a deep breath and headed to his room, where Y/n was sitting on the edge of his bed, looking a bit lost in thought. He sat down beside her, his presence immediately making her feel more at ease.

Y/n tried to lighten the mood with a playful grin. "Well, that was unexpected. I didn't know you had such a powerful punch, San. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

San chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Yeah, I've had a bit of practice I guess. Just a black belt in Taekwondo not much."

San's smile widened, enjoying the light-hearted moment with Y/n. But behind his amusement, he couldn't shake off his concern. "Y/n, are you sure you're okay? I didn't mean to scare you back there."

Y/n's expression softened as she looked at him. "San, I know you. You're not the type to throw punches unless you have to. You were protecting me, and I appreciate that."

San nodded, grateful for her understanding. But he could see the concern in her eyes, and he knew exactly what was bothering her.

"I know," he admitted quietly. "If anyone recognizes me, it could cause trouble. My image as an idol is everything."

Y/n's brows furrowed with worry. "Do you think anyone saw you?"

San shook his head. "I don't know. I tried to keep my face hidden as much as possible. Hopefully, no one noticed."

Y/n squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Let's hope for the best. Maybe it was dark, and they didn't get a good look."

San smiled faintly, grateful for her optimism. "Yeah, maybe."

They sat in silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts. San couldn't shake off the nagging worry about his career, but he also felt a profound sense of relief knowing that Y/n was safe.

"I'm sorry," Y/n said softly, breaking the silence. "I didn't mean to put you in a difficult position."

San shook his head, turning to look at her. "Hey, protecting you was worth it. I'll deal with whatever consequences come my way."

Y/n nodded, her eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, San."

San leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I'll always protect you, Y/n. No matter what."

Y/n smiled, leaning into his touch. "I know."

They stayed like that for a while longer, finding comfort in each other's presence. Despite the uncertainties ahead, they knew they could face them together, their bond strengthened by the challenges they had overcome that night.

Eventually, Y/n pulled back slightly, her gaze meeting his with newfound determination. "Let's not dwell on this tonight. We should focus on us."

San nodded, a sense of peace settling over him. "You're right. Tonight is about us."

He looked at Y/n, a playful glint in his eyes. "Are you hungry? How about some ramen? It's nothing fancy, but it'll hit the spot."

Y/n grinned, her stomach growling in agreement. "Ramen sounds perfect right now."

San busied himself with preparing the instant ramen while Y/n sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen, fidgeting nervously.

As San boiled the water and stirred the noodles, Y/n bit her lip, unsure of how to break the awkward silence that had settled between them.

Once the ramen was ready, San handed a bowl to Y/n and took a seat beside her. They ate quietly at first, both acutely aware of the underlying meaning behind their late-night ramen choice.

After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Y/n finally spoke up, her voice hesitant. "San... about the ramen... I know what it implies."

San paused mid-bite, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Oh... um, yeah. I didn't mean for it to be... I just thought... we could have a late-night snack together."

Y/n's cheeks were tinged with pink as she glanced down at her bowl. "Right, of course. I understand."

San shifted uncomfortably, wanting to ease the tension. "I want you to know, Y/n, I'm not trying to rush anything. I've waited for you for so long. I can wait a little longer."

Y/n looked up, meeting his gaze. "I know, San. I appreciate that."

They finished their ramen in subdued silence, the atmosphere in the room heavy with unspoken emotions. Each bite seemed to carry with it a mix of longing and restraint, as if they were tiptoeing around the feelings that hung between them.

San set his bowl aside and glanced at Y/n, his voice soft but sincere. "Y/n, it's getting pretty late. Why don't you stay here tonight? We used to sleep together all the time when we were younger. It doesn't have to be awkward."

Y/n looked at him, her eyes reflecting a mix of surprise and relief. "Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

San smiled warmly, shaking his head. "You're not imposing. I'd actually feel better knowing you're here and safe. Plus, it's just like old times, right?"

Y/n's lips curved into a gentle smile as she nodded. "Yeah, just like old times."

San stood up and began to set up his room for the night. He found an extra pillow and blanket for Y/n, laying them out on his bed. "I'll take the floor. You can have the bed."

Y/n frowned and shook her head. "No way. We're both adults now, San. We can share the bed. It's big enough for both of us."

San hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded, trying to keep his composure. "Okay, if you're comfortable with that."

They both climbed into the bed, lying on their backs and staring at the ceiling. The initial awkwardness began to fade as they settled into the familiarity of their shared space.

San turned his head slightly to look at Y/n. "Remember when we used to have sleepovers and tell each other ghost stories until we fell asleep?"

Y/n chuckled softly, his eyes warm with nostalgia. "Yeah, and you always insisted on keeping the nightlight on afterwards."

San laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Well, I was scared! Your ghost stories were way too realistic."

Y/n chuckled softly, the tension easing between them. "I guess I did have a knack for storytelling."

As they lay side by side in the dim light of San's room, Y/n shifted slightly, turning to face away from him. "Hey, San, do you mind... um, cuddling me?"

San's heart skipped a beat at her request, but he tried to remain calm. "Sure, Y/n. No problem."

He moved closer to her, gently wrapping his arms around her waist. Y/n sighed softly, feeling a sense of warmth and security in his embrace.

For a while, they lay in silence, the only sound in the room being the soft rhythm of their breathing. The tension that had hovered between them earlier had dissolved, replaced by a quiet intimacy that felt both familiar and new.

After a couple of minutes, Y/n thought San might have fallen asleep behind her. She was starting to drift off herself when she felt a slight pressure against her back. Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what it was—San's arousal pressing against her.

Her heart raced, unsure of what to do or say. She didn't want to embarrass San, but the heat of his body against hers stirred something deep within her.

Y/n took a deep breath, gathering her courage. "San... are you awake?"

San hesitated for a moment before answering, his voice low and hesitant. "Yeah, I'm awake."

Y/n bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. "I... I felt something."

San's arms tightened slightly around her, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Y/n. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy for San as she sensed his embarrassment. She gently placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face towards hers. "San, it's okay. I understand."

San forced a small smile, though his eyes still held a hint of shame. "I just... I told you I could wait, but..."

Y/n brushed her thumb lightly across his cheek, her touch gentle and reassuring. "San, it's natural. We both have feelings for each other. It's okay."

San's shoulders relaxed slightly at her words, his gaze meeting hers with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/n." 

They settled back into the pillows, finding a comfortable position in each other's arms. The tension that had momentarily clouded their evening melted away as they lay together in the quiet of San's room.

San brushed a strand of hair from Y/n's face, his touch gentle and affectionate. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, San," Y/n murmured softly, her eyes drifting closed.

They both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's warmth.

-

taglist: @dinossaurz @taz-97 @soso59love-blog

[arcane-vagabond]

By Its Cover: Chapter Two

By Its Cover: Chapter Two

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader (Last Name: Sinclair)

Summary: The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Content Warning: Disapproving Mother, Reader gets scolded, Lingering Touches, Suggestive Jokes, Supportive Dad figures, Overprotective Brother, Shameless Sister, Feelings of Inadequacy. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 3.3k

Series Masterlist || Moodboard

You had dozed off at some point in the evening, Mr. Mitchell’s copy of Pride and Prejudice sitting on your lap when the man himself finally came to find you.

“It’s getting late, Bug,” he had whispered, shaking your shoulder as you grumbled your way into consciousness. The older man gave you a kind smile as you blinked the sleep away from your eyes, gazing at him in confusion.

“The party’s just wrapped up,” he chuckled, resting a hand on your shoulder as you slowly remembered who’s library you were sitting in. You turned to Mr. Mitchell with concern clear on your face, and he held a hand up to stop you in your tracks.

“Don’t worry, your mother didn’t notice you snuck away,” he smiled, pulling you up by your hand and offering you his arm. You took it, looping yours through his as he gave you a wink. “So let’s hurry you on downstairs so we can keep it that way, hm?”

You let him escort you back down the stairs, several people still milling about as the ballroom cleared, the servants already beginning their cleaning duties as members of the Island bid each other a pleasant evening. Your mother was speaking with Mrs. Mitchell, a beautiful woman who must have been an even greater beauty in her youth you surmised. Georgiana stood off to the side with William and Lord Seresin, smiling and batting her lashes at the blond who seemed to be pointedly keeping his eyes on your brother.

“Oh, darling!” Your mother exclaimed, rushing towards you with a knit of her brow. “Where have you been, dearest?”

“I found her outside in the garden getting some air,” Mr. Mitchell supplied smoothly, giving your arm a playful squeeze. You shot him a small smile, thankful for his understanding of your dislike for large gatherings. You had never been one for them, if you were being honest, the judging eyes that seemed to follow you wherever you went a constant source of anxiety and discomfort. Your father had always understood, telling you once that he felt the same way about them, and you were glad for Mr. Mitchell during this time as well.

He seemed to be the only one other than your late father and Natasha that understood you, the real you that was. Your mother tried, you knew in your heart she did, but she never seemed to know what to do with you, not like your brother and sisters. You found yourself wondering some days if you should perhaps disappear into the night, start a new life where no one knew who you were or where you came from. You longed for a life where someone saw you for who you truly were, not who you were presumed to be given the Sinclair name. You had thoughts and ideas that only Natasha, and Mr. Mitchell on the rare occasion, seemed to understand, but you knew that the two of them wouldn’t be around forever. Were you destined to a life as some miserable lady of the house whose husband merely saw her as a means to procure an heir and maintain appearances?

“By yourself?” Your mother asked, positively aghast. “Dearest, why would you do such a thing? Think of what could have happened!”

Your cheeks warmed at her scolding, glancing down at the floor and wishing in that moment that it would open wide and swallow you whole. You felt the eyes of everyone on you as you stood there silently, and you chanced a glance up, not expecting to meet jade green ones first. Your breath hitched in your throat as your cheeks warmed even more, a feat you weren’t sure how was accomplished. Lord Seresin studied you, a frown tugging at his lips, but it was the look in his eyes that gave you pause.

No judgement shown in them. It was something you weren’t sure you understood. Curiosity, perhaps? His gaze met yours, and you could have sworn they softened as the two of you looked at one another, your eyes widening and lips parting on their own accord.

“It’s alright, Celine,” Mrs. Mitchell soothed, placing a gentle hand on your mother’s arm, drawing her attention away from you for a moment. The movement broke you from your trance, your head ducking down quickly to avoid making an even bigger fool of yourself than you already had. Though why you found yourself so eager to have the young lord’s approval, you weren’t quite sure, and you were irritated with yourself at the realization.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” you murmured, looking up at her through your lashes. She pressed her lips into a grimace before letting out a sigh.

“See that it doesn’t happen again,” she clucked, though you knew she wouldn’t stay upset with you for long - she never did. Mr. Mitchell gave your arm another squeeze before gesturing towards the now empty room.

“Well, as much as I do love seeing you all,” he started, mirth ever present in his tone. “The hour grows late, and I must insist that you all return home so that I may get my rest.”

“He is quite a crankly, old codger when he doesn’t get enough rest,” Mrs. Mitchell teased, smiling endearingly at her husband. He gave her an affectionate smile in return, beginning to steer you towards the exit.

“It was so lovely to see you all,” Mrs. Mitchell continued as the others began to file out as well, your mother on William’s arm and Georgie on Lord Seresin’s, though you couldn’t help but notice that it seemed his attention was entirely on her. “I’m afraid I can’t walk you out, though. There are some things I need to attend to around the manor.”

“It was lovely chatting with you as always, Charlotte,” your mother smiled, earning one in return.

“Please do come over for tea sometime, Celine,” Mrs. Mitchell said, already heading in the other direction. “I do so enjoy your visits!”

The October night sending a chill up your spine as you pressed a little closer to Mr. Mitchell for warmth.

“I knew I should have brought a cape,” you muttered, earning a chuckle. Your brother offered your mother a hand to step up into the stagecoach, ever the dutiful son. Your sister turned to Lord Seresin with a bat of her eyelashes and curl of her lips.

“I do hope we’ll be seeing more of you, your grace,” she purred, puffing her chest out more than was entirely necessary. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at your older sister, clenching your jaw at her brazen display. If that’s what it took to get a husband, then you most assuredly wanted no part in it.

Lord Seresin cleared his throat, giving her a polite smile that looked entirely too much like a grimace as he dipped his head to her.

“I’m sure I’ll be finding my way to your family’s estate just like old times, Miss Sinclair,” he responded politely, passing her off to your brother who helped her into the stagecoach. You moved to follow, but Mr. Mitchell pulled you back, a twinkle in his eyes.

“You almost forgot this,” he whispered to you, pressing something into your hand. You glanced down to see the book you had been reading in the library, your eyes alighting in delight as you gripped it tightly.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, turning to find your brother had taken refuge from the cold inside the coach. You saw Lord Seresin standing by the door, waiting for you. You nearly balked, but Mr. Mitchell placed a steady hand on your back and pushed you towards him. Your cheeks suddenly felt too hot as you walked stiffly forward, avoiding the Duke’s eyes as best you could. Once you reached the doors, his hand appeared in your vision. You hesitated, and you weren’t sure why. The moment stretched on in silence, and you could feel the awkwardness at your lack of action grow stronger.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning over you as he leaned forward. “I only bite when provoked.”

You glanced up at him, cheeks aflame and eyes widened as before. He let out a low chuckle, meeting your gaze easily as his eyes twinkled.

“I’m kidding,” he smirked, tilting his head in a disgustingly endearing way.

“Bug, get in the coach before we freeze to death,” harped Georgie, shooting you a positively venomous glare. You gulped, slowly placing your hand in Lord Seresin’s as he gripped yours tightly. His hand was warm, comfortingly so, and a spark shot through you as your skin made contact with his. You sucked in a sharp breath, eyes flickering up to meet his. A smile curled at his lips as he looked at you with a hooded gaze. You could have sworn the world tampered out around you as he held your gaze, lips spreading into a smirk as his thumb smoothed over the back of your hand. Your lips parted, eyes darting down to his own on their own accord. They looked soft.

“Bug!” Georgie nearly shrieked, pulling you from your stupor. You cleared your throat, turning towards the coach once more, but not before noticing how Lord Seresin’s smile faded into a frown as you moved. You sat in the seat next to your brother, across from Georgie who still openly glared at you. Lord Seresin still held your hand as you settled in the seat, giving it a squeeze as you turned to face him.

“Lady Bug,” he purred as his hand slowly slipped from yours, green eyes intense as they watched you. You swallowed thickly.

“Your grace,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. You glanced behind him towards where Mr. Mitchell stood, a brow raised, but not in your direction. You turned to see your mother looking back at him, a mirroring brow arched as she glanced over at you with a knowing look. You felt embarrassed as you pressed further into the seat. You refused to look up, even as the coach door clicked shut, the driver spurring the horses into motion. Even as you still felt the Duke’s gaze lingering on you.

You turned the page with a tired sigh, eyes flickering up briefly to watch as your sister paced around the large parlor. Morning light filtered through clouds and through the tall windows, casting shadows along the ornate, antique rug that had laid on the floor for God only knows how long. You were still tired from your night at the party, your sister refusing to leave until most of the crowd had left already. The sister in question was pacing haughtily across the carpet in front of you, shooting you poisonous looks as you buried your nose further into your book to try and ignore her. Your mother sat on the sofa across from you, her needlepoint in hand as she eyed your sister with exasperation.

���Georgiana, please,” she sighed, closing her eyes as if that might give her a moment’s respite. “Sit down before you wear a hole in my rug.”

“How can I sit still, Mama?” Georgie cried out, stopping in her tracks to spare your mother the briefest of looks. “She’s sitting there like nothing happened!”

“Because nothing did happen,” you muttered, which proved to be a mistake as your sister swung around to shoot you daggers once more.

“Right,” she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, “because you didn’t practically drool all over him last night. I saw the way you looked at him!”

“Georgie,” you sighed, setting your book down on your lap to give her your undivided attention, “you know me better than that. I have no interest in courtship, let alone marriage of all things.”

Your words seemed to placate her some as she arched a brow at you, but at least she no longer glared.

“Besides,” you continued, eager to have her ire directed at something other than you, “it was you who he danced with all night, was it not?”

That seemed to snap her out of her tirade, a large smile forming on her lips as she let out a dreamy sigh, twirling in place.

“Yes, it was,” she gushed, cupping her cheek. “Oh, we must have looked so wonderful together. Wouldn’t you agree, Mama?”

Your mother hummed noncommittally as she glanced up from her needlepoint.

“What?” She blinked. “Oh, yes, of course, my darling.”

She didn’t sound too convinced as her eyes strayed to you, that knowing look making your cheeks heat once again as you looked away. Georgiana didn’t notice your silent exchange as she giggled to herself.

“I wonder if we’ll have a long courtship,” she mused, sitting down next to your mother, jostling the older woman slightly. “We shall have a wedding befitting that of a Duke and Duchess, surely.”

“You mustn’t rush these things, my darling,” your mother hummed once more, and you could feel her eyes still boring into you. “Much can happen over the course of a season.”

In that moment, your brother waltzed into the room, a familiar blond following close behind. You felt your heart stutter in your chest, hands clenching the book in your lap as you did your best to try and act like his mere presence didn’t have a most peculiar effect on your senses.

“Good morning, all,” William chirped, leaning against the mantle, a brilliant smile on his face.

“William,” your mother scolded, setting aside her needlepoint hastily before smoothing down her skirts. “You could have warned us that you were expecting company!”

“Sorry, Mother,” William grinned his demeanor contradictory to his words. “It must have slipped my mind.”

“Lord Seresin,” your sister giggled, standing so suddenly as to startle you, your book falling to the floor in your fright. You bent over to grab it, fingers just brushing the cover as a much larger hand brushed yours. You glanced up to meet jade green eyes, a nearly silent gasp leaving your lips on its own accord. His fingers, so large compared to your own, brushed the back of your hand gently before you gathered your wits about you. You yanked your hand away, the book along with it as you leaned back up. Your cheeks were on fire, your eyes looking everywhere but at him.

“My lord,” you murmured apologetically, sparing him another glance. His face was unreadable as he watched you for a beat more, slowly standing straight from where he had bent over.

“Lady Bug,” he nodded, pressing his lips into a tight line. You noticed the flex of his hand at his side - the one he had just touched you with - and you felt a fluttering in your stomach.

“Your grace,” your mother began, but Lord Seresin held his hand up to stop her, a smile gracing his handsome features.

“Please, Lady Sinclair,” he said. “I much prefer it if you’d all call me by my given name. Like old times.”

“Jacob,” your mother amended with a bow of her head. “What brings you to our home this morning?”

“Jake was just regaling me with stories of his travels,” William chimed in, walking over to plop down on the sofa next to you. He reached up to tickle your chin, and you swatted his hand away with a vicious scowl. He grinned up at you, shooting you a wink before turning back to others. “I invited him to dinner tonight, I hope you all don’t mind.”

“Of course. You know you’re more than welcome here,” your mother smiled at the blond as your sister practically bounced in her seat from excitement. Your eyes flickered over to him of their own accord, and you were almost unsurprised to see him already looking at you. You blinked, eyes as round as saucers as you looked away. William gave you a look of curiosity, but wrinkled his nose as Georgie batted her eyes up at the duke.

“Jake,” she crooned, leaning forward, practically pushing her chest up for him to view. “Would you care to hear me play the pianoforte? I’ve become quite the good player since you were last here.”

Jake frowned slightly before putting on a charming smile.

“Please. By all means,” he said, gesturing towards the instrument in question. Georgie gathered her skirts before prancing over to sit on the bench. You had to admit, your sister was quite the excellent player. You wouldn’t say you were horrible by any means, but your sister had a knack for music. You were much more content with your books and paints. The delicate notes of her playing filled the room, and you smiled softly as she continued.

Your sister played for a while, and after a few minutes you turned to your brother to say something, stopping when you saw him. William didn’t seem to be paying attention to the music, no. His brow was furrowed, lips turned into a contemplative frown as he all but glared forward. You followed his gaze, stopping as you saw what had him so perplexed. Jake was already looking at you, that unreadable expression once again on his face. Georgiana finished her song, your mother’s clapping breaking you from your stunned silence. You began to clap alongside her, followed by the two men. Georgie rose from the bench, a coy smile on her face as she curtsied to the room.

“That was lovely, Georgie,” William smiled, the consternation having vanished from his demeanor entirely.

“Agreed,” Jake chimed in, and Georgie positively beamed under their praise.

“Thank you,” she gushed. The sun chose that moment to make its way through the gloomy clouds, casting bright light into the room.

“Oh, Mama,” Georgiana exclaimed. “Look! The sun is out. Might we go out promenading?”

Your mother cast her attention out the tall windows, taking in the sight of the almost crystal blue sky.

“It does look lovely outside,” she murmured. “Alright, yes, but be sure to grab your cloaks! Jacob, will you be joining us?”

Jake hesitated, glancing around the room before slowly nodding. “Yes, I suppose I shall if it’s alright with you.”

Georgie practically squealed as she raced out of the room, your mother close behind. You rose to your feet, book still clutched in your hands as your brother followed suit.

“I’ll take that as my cue and meet you all outside, then,” Jake chuckled, casting one more glance at you before heading off in the opposite direction. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, feeling the stress leave your shoulders as they sagged slightly.

“Bug,” William said, and you turned to look at him. His expression was serious, brow furrowed once more.

“What is it?” You questioned, raising a brow at him. William seemed to mull over his words, teeth worrying at his cheek as he was prone to do when something was bothering him.

“Just,” he hesitated, “be careful. Jake is my oldest and dearest friend, but even I know his reputation is well earned.”

Your heart sank in your chest, but you schooled your features into one of nonchalance.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you sniffed, looking away and towards the wall. You weren’t stupid enough to think the duke had any interest in you, the strange youngest sister who had made it known she would never marry. You wouldn’t even know the first thing about being a duchess, and you weren’t about to start entertaining the idea. Not when someone like Georgie seemed so keen on it.

“Right,” William snickered, looking down at his shoes with a shake of his head. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but he must have thought better of it. He looked back up at you, gesturing towards the door.

“Go,” he shooed. “Grab your cloak quickly before we have to hear more of Georgie’s shrieking.”

You smiled at him, nodding before turning on your feet to do as he bid.

A/N: Here it is! I didn't get as much done as I would have liked this week, but I'm proud of myself for getting two different updates out in the same week! That's a lot for me! Anyway, I'm going to enjoy the rest of my week off and look forward to my one in July. Please be thinking about what you would like to see from me next, and let me know what you thought about this chapter!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. If you would like to be notified on when I post updates, please follow my side blog (@arcanevagabond-library) and turn on post notifications! My work is cross posted on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!