#i think that for the sake of this fic i am simply not going to mention it and it will be fine

[syn4k]

also uh while i'm writing something in this era of s2. are we ever going to talk about that time at the very end of the season that tucker literally murdered a bunch of defenseless children that were the last of what remained of ianite at mianite's behest and the only reason that any survived was because jordan and martha agreed on something for once in their goddamn lives and worked together to hide one where tucker couldn't find it? because im gonna be real right now: what the fuck was that. What the actual fuck. It didn't even lead to anything. Ianite wasn't even revived afterwards so narratively it was all for nothing anyways. Genuinely, what the fuck man.

[greenorangevioletgrass]

give me a minute (2/2) | chef luca

pairing: chef luca x ex-wife!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: established former relationship, discussions of separation and divorce, discussions of moving on, luca and reader has a son, brief mention of blood and minor injury, smut 18+ (fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, size kink? idk luca's big, dirty talk, creampie) notes: it's finally here! thank you everyone for your patience, i am a slow writer by nature and life gets in the way, but i finally got around to finish it! happy reading, and do comment, reblog, and send me asks to tell me what you think <;3 ✨follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notifications to get alerted for my latest fics ✨

<<< read part 1 here >>>

06.13 PM

Your apartment has never felt so claustrophobic after that little moment you shared with Luca. You try to stay busy in the next hour —tidying up Alfie’s room even after he made it up, checking your email four times, even doing the laundry, for fuck’s sake— as Luca keeps to himself in the kitchen area. Whether Alfie is obliviously enjoying his screen time or purposely ignoring the weird tension between his parents, you’re not entirely sure. Right now, you’re just grateful that he’s not saying anything at the moment.

The boy simply creeps up to the kitchen counter with a shy eagerness about him. “How long ‘til dinner, Dad?”

“3 more minutes, Chef,” Luca answers, focused on the task at hand, so poker-faced that it makes his son giggle.

“I’m not a chef, you’re a chef!”

“Well, where I work, we call everyone in the kitchen ‘chef.’ Out of respect.”

Alfie climbs onto the dining bench in interest, peering up to watch his father set the dish on the plates meticulously. Luca doesn’t miss how the boy deeply inhales the delicious smell in the air.

“Smells yummy.”

“Thank you,” Luca replies, his excitement seems muted although his heart is soaring. He looks up to find Alfie staring at the plate, chin propped up on his little fist. You’ve always said that he looks just like his dad, but in that moment, Luca only sees you. Alfie has the way your mouth tugs ever so slightly into a smile, the way your eyes shine in childlike wonder. In quiet thoughtfulness.

No Michelin star, earned or retained, would ever amount to this.

“Can you go get your mum and tell her dinner’s ready, please?” He softly asks Alfie, as if not wanting to disrupt this peaceful silence. “Thank you, Chef.”

“Yes, chef.” The six-year-old salutes him and pads over to your home office, which doubles as the guest bedroom. The door is open, and he sees you reorganizing the linen closet with your back to him. He hugs you from behind, startling you.

“Oh!” You put your hand on his head, stroking him lightly. “Hey, bub.”

“Daddy told me to come get you and say dinner’s ready.”

“Gotcha. Thank you.” You half-expect him to run off like he usually does, but he lingers, his arms still wrapped around you. “What’s up, bubbie?”

“Nothing.” He buries his face against your side. “Love you, Mommy.”

“I love you too, bubbie.” This makes you smile, pleasantly surprised at this seemingly random admission.

“Love Daddy too, but don’t tell him that,” he whispers as he looks up at you, putting his forefinger in front of his mouth.

“Why not?”

“Sometimes he gets sad when I say that,” he murmurs. “He doesn’t tell me, but I know it.”

Oh. His playful exterior sometimes makes you forget just how emotionally sensitive he is. And it breaks your heart that he can see through the complicated adult emotions with his childlike eyes. 

“Alfie…” you level with him and pull him closer, “Your dad loves you very very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to hear you say that. He’s just sad because… he’s been away, and he misses you a lot.”

“He should come home, then.”

It’s so simple, the way Alfie puts it. His Dad comes home and reunites with him and you, and his puzzle would piece together perfectly again. And you all live happily ever after. The end.

The truth, of course, is not so simple. But maybe, just for tonight… Maybe you and Luca can sacrifice a few of your own puzzle pieces. For your baby boy.

So you get back on your feet and guide your son out of the room. “Come on, bub. Let’s see what Daddy cooked for us, hm?”

When you and Alfie turn the corner into the kitchen-living area, Luca is wiping the side of the plate neatly. He smiles at you somewhat nervously, like he’s not sure what to do with himself, so you throw him the figurative olive branch.

“Smells amazing,” you compliment him as you and Alfie take your seats. “What are we having, Chef?”

Luca’s eyes light up and your heart stops. You stopped calling him ‘Chef’ long ago, when the moniker became synonymous with workaholism and neglect. But there’s no venom in the way you say it tonight. Call him sentimental, but it reminds him of the early summer days in the tiny apartment you first shared in Chicago.

Of blueberry pies and barely there bumps.

He has to remind himself that this whole ‘happy family’ shtick is just a charade now, it’s all for Alfie, it doesn’t mean anything for the two of us, but he can’t help but miss this.

And little does he know, so do you.

“Well, buckle up, you guys, because we are having…” He carries the plates over and serves it to you and Alfie with a flourish, “Baked sweet potato wedges with Mediterranean dip, and our pièce-de-résistance… Alfie’s Nuggies.”

It looks nothing short of beautiful, with the wedges fanned out like autumn leaves underneath a colorful burst of cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and feta cheese. The chicken nuggets are rich golden brown against the brilliant white plate. The splatters of sauce (is that Tahini?) is a hint of thoughtful chaos on the dish.

Your six-year-old let out a little noise of awe and amazement next to you, but no sound escapes you—not for the longest time.

“This is…” you look up at Luca as if he would have the word you’re looking for.

But his blue eyes just look a lot like I love you.

“Thank you,” you ultimately say, with absolutely no pretense whatsoever.

And if he does hear an ‘I love you’ hidden somewhere in there… he hopes he’s not imagining things.

*** 

08:37 PM

If you could travel just a few hours back in time and tell yourself that you would spend the whole day stuck at home in a nasty storm with your son and his father that you’re divorcing—and that you’d be okay with it, you would’ve probably scheduled yourself an MRI scan because clearly something is wrong.

But the night is winding down. Luca is tucking Alfie into bed for the first time in months. You are washing dishes in the quiet accompaniment of steady rain and running water, and everything feels just right.

“He’s out like a light,” Luca informs you quietly as he reemerges from Alfie’s bedroom and stops right by the kitchen counter. “Need a hand?”

“Nah, I’m just about done,” you casually wave him off. “You want anything to drink?”

“Uh… what do you got?”

“Scotch, gin…” you pause, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. The sink tap squeaks a little as you shut it off. “...wine.”

His heart skips. Don’t overthink it, he reminds himself. “Red or white?”

“Take your pick,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

Luca reaches up to see the bottles of wine you have in store, and you try not to pay too much attention as his shirt rides up around the waist—or the sleeve, showing off the remnants of Alfie’s crayon work over his inks… you’re just two co-parents hanging out. It’s normal, right?

“What about the Malbec?” he eventually chooses, taking out the bottle.

He’s always loved Malbec—this particular brand of Malbec you brought him when he first invited you for dinner on your third date.

Don’t overthink it, you remind yourself. “Yeah, sure.”

You pick up two wine glasses and set them down on the dining table, shuffling into the corner bench. Luca settles into the other bench, directly against the kitchen counter, pouring the wine onto both glasses.

“How many bedtime stories did Alfie manage to get out of you?” you pipe up, swirling the purplish liquid around.

“Just one…” he sips on his wine thoughtfully. “Although he made me read it three times.”

You smile, bemused. “Which one was it?”

“‘The Bear Who Did.’”

“Ah, yeah. He’s been into that one lately,” you muse. “But… for what it’s worth, I’m glad he asked you to tuck him in tonight.”

The two of you exchange a soft look. A ceasefire. A truce, at least when it comes to your son. Because you really do want Luca to have a good relationship with Alfie.

“Me too.”

“And I’m sorry you had to… make do with spending the day with Alfie here.”

He shakes his head softly. “Nah, don’t be. I had a good time. It’s nice to just hang out… at home.”

At home, the words echo in your head.

With you, they echo in his, loud and unsaid.

“So, uh… how have you been?”

“Ah, you know how it is. Work is kicking my ass—my current client’s only two blocks away, but the house is a total fixer-upper, and Alfie’s… Alfie.” You don’t want to backtalk your own son, although you both know how trying he can be sometimes. “But it’s all good. My mom helps out with Alfie, and Jess insists that I go out and live a little every now and again.”

“And do you? Live a little?”

“I mean, within reason. I can’t go clubbing ‘til 4am anymore. I think I’m getting old…” you stretch your arms, feeling that soreness just from your daily activities.

Luca grins, raising his glass. “I hear you. I don’t even really go out anymore.”

“Seriously?” 

“Mm-hm.”

You make an incredulous face. It would make sense for you not to go out much, with Alfie and everything. But he was alone, abroad… “Why, though?”

He just shrugs lightly. “I’m working. Whenever I’m off, I mostly just… eat or sleep.”

“I somehow find that hard to believe.” You take a dubious sip. You both know how much Luca enjoys grabbing a cheeky pint. He’s British; it’s in his blood, goddammit.

“Oh come on…”

“You don’t even go out drinking or whatever? Meet people?”

His gaze flashes towards you almost playfully. “Do you?”

Your face falls, not expecting to be caught so off-guard with such an innocent question. And upon seeing that, his face falls. Shit. And with that, the air between you shifts so dramatically.

Stupidly, you still try to save the conversation. “Of course my friends and I go out—”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” His voice darkens, his blue eyes piercing through you. 

This conversation is a long time coming. It’s a natural progression of your relationship—or the lack thereof. You separate, you get divorced, and eventually you move on. Two years is a more than acceptable time to start dating again. And still, you phrase out your next words very carefully.

“I’ve been on dates here and there…”

Luca sucks in a slow, calculated breath. “Does Alfie know?”

You shake your head. “It’s nothing serious so far.”

He’s not sure what’s worse, the fact that it’s nothing serious, or that you’re holding out for something serious in the future.

“Look, we both know this is happening sooner or later…”

“I know,” he quickly recovers—or as much as he can recover. He just stares down the stem of his glass.  “It just… It’s a lot to take in, that’s all.”

“I understand.” The wine feels like gravel down your throat, and the words coming out of your mouth feel like throwing up a boulder.

“Because I do miss you.”

Your eyes immediately dart over to his, as if you’re not sure you heard it right. “Luca…”

“I miss you everyday. I miss us. I miss everything we used to have.”

Your heart catches—no, stops altogether at his admission. “Luca, we can’t do this anymo—”

He swallows thickly, his jaw setting as he braces himself. “I’ve been thinking about it everyday—the whole time I’m away, and frankly, I’m kicking myself over not telling you this sooner.”

“That’s probably just the homesickness talking.” You turn away. This can’t be possible. This can’t be happening. What the fuck?! “It got you reminiscing about the good old days. Give it time, you’ll come around.” You try to maintain a neutral, distant, cold approach to this, although the crack in your voice betrays you.

“No. That’s not it.”

“Then what the fuck is it?”

Your words cut through the quiet apartment like a flash bang. Luca stops dead in his tracks in his shock, and honestly, so do you. Awful silence hushes over the room, and both of you are almost too afraid to break it. Neither of you even dare to move.

After what seems like forever, Luca moves first. A tear escapes his eye, and he wipes it away with his knuckle hurriedly. “Noma should’ve been a dream. And it is, in a way. I guess.” He stares blankly ahead, his life in Copenhagen replaying in his head like it’s on fast-forward, and the playback seems to just highlight how lonely he is there. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m utterly miserable there. I get up and go to work and I just feel empty. Because what’s the point? You and Alfie are way over here, being a family while I’m… doing what?” He wants to tear his hair out, because this is everything he’s dreamed of, and yet he is living the stuff of nightmares. “It makes no fucking sense.”

It makes even less sense to you. You can’t even begin to process this tangled mess in your head. “Luca… we are almost officially divorced. You’re telling me this now? When everything is—”

“I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I should just… let you cut your losses and—”

“The best for me? How the fuck did you think giving up was the best way forward for me?” The thought of it burns your eyes with angry tears. They melt, and you don’t do a thing to stop it from running down your face. “You didn’t think to fight for us while you still could?”

Luca’s heart aches to see that. He is dying to reach out and wipe them away, but he can’t. His voice is quiet and small and almost childlike. “I tried. You were just so… sure about the divorce. You had it all figured out. And I… I thought you had no room for me anymore.”

“I had to keep it together. I had to figure it out—for Alfie’s sake. For mine.” You stare at your little potted sunflower on the windowsill. “I don’t see the point in being vulnerable with you anymore when you’re already set on leaving.”

The words have run out. The whirlwind of emotions has passed. What he feels and what he wants is now very clear.

“I shouldn’t have left.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have.” You wished he didn’t. Everyday for the last two years. And everyday you set yourself up for disappointment because, the truth of the matter is, he did leave. So you stop wishing. ���Because I don’t know how to come back from this. I really don’t.”

Nothing that comes out of your mouth is unexpected. But it doesn’t hurt any less to hear it from the horse’s mouth. “It’s just… seeing you guys today… We were a family again. And I would do anything for us to be a family again. Please.”

You sigh heavily. “What else is there to do, Luca…?”

“We can, I don’t know, figure something out, go to couples counseling—”

You groan in frustration, Jesus Christ not this again, wanting to tear your hair out when— CRASH! You accidentally knock over your wine glass and it shatters as it hits the floor. “Shit…”

“Mommy?” Alfie calls you from inside his room, sleepy but alert.

The two of you freeze just before you can move out of your seat. Afraid the slightest of noises would rattle your son.

“Yes, bubbie?” you try to sound bright and normal. Maybe if you can convince him that everything’s fine, he won’t come running in panic. 

“What was that?”

“I just knocked over a glass, kiddo, everything’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

You and Luca wait a few seconds with bated breath. One, two, three… ten seconds go by, and there’s no movement in the bedroom.

The coast is clear.

You scramble down to pick up the shards of glass. The spilled wine looks like blood in the dim light of the room. It’s a painful reminder of the broken pieces of your former life, the casualties. He quickly follows suit, as if struggling to put it all back together. The irony is not lost on either of you, you’re sure of that.

“It’s fine, Luca. I got it, I—” a sharp piece of glass accidentally cuts your palm as you pick it up in hurry. “Fuck!”

“You okay?” He takes your hand as quick as lightning, wanting to inspect the wound, but you snatch it away.

“I’m fine.” You get up on your feet, teetering over to the sink, away from the crime scene, careful not to step on any piece of glass.

Yet he still follows you, walking over to where you’re standing now. “Come on. Let me just take a look.” He reaches out to your wrist, running little circles with his thumb to ease your grasp.

“It’s not a big deal…” you let him look anyway, you figure it’s easier to just let him do his thing than to argue your way out of it. 

His calluses are brittle against your palm, but he handles you with the gentlest touch. The wound is not too big or too deep, but the sight of blood marring your palm makes his heart drop. There’s no visible piece stuck to it, that’s a good sign, he thinks. He rips off some paper towel and wets it on the sink, and softly dab at the gash, cleaning the wound and wiping the blood off.

You grit your teeth, not wanting to show any sign of pain although it stings. “It’s just a little cut…” your tone bears less and less conviction, as if you have no energy left to argue with him on such a small matter.

There’s a very particular way his eyebrows arch when he’s deep in thought. The left one always sits slightly higher than the right. Blue eyes fixed on the object of his focus. A minute gesture behind the chaos in his head. “You need a Band-Aid,” he points out. 

“It’s in the—”

Luca is already opening the drawer next to the stove, taking out a packet of a Star Wars-themed Band-Aid. He still remembers where everything is, and you can’t tell whether the ache in your chest is a good or bad thing.

He puts the Band-Aid on your cut, then takes your hand close to kiss it better, like he used to do.

“Um.” You freeze in your tracks, taken aback. And it seems he’s just as equally as taken aback by his own action. He is flushed with embarrassment, and you feel your face growing hot as well.

He’s the first to break the awkward silence, quiet and tentative. “I’ll clean up the mess. You just hang tight.”

It seems so mundane, sweeping broken glass and cleaning the floor. His body registers it as a simple muscle memory—he must’ve cleaned up messes on this very spot a million times. But his heart is heavy with the burden of your history, and all the pain that comes with your separation. He might not be able to put the pieces back together, but maybe he can clean up the mess and make it nice again for you.

And all the while, you’re stuck to the kitchen counter, watching him so effortlessly reacquainted with his former home. It’s as if he never left. For a confusing moment, it feels like home again. How did you manage without this view, this presence for so long?

Luca puts away the debris in the trash, hidden away in another kitchen drawer next to you, and hovers in front of you, as if wanting to reach out and touch you… but too afraid you’ll push him away.

“Does it still hurt?”

You can’t tear your eyes off of his. The little cut on your hand is but a dull ache now, but the insides of your chest feels like it’s been mangled beyond repair. You burst into tears, sobs ripping through the seams.

His arms wrap around you, keeping your tattered pieces together. Your face is buried in his chest, surrounded by soft cotton and earthy perfume, and your first thought is you can’t remember the last time you were in his arms like this. You rake your mind through all the memories, all the times you hugged each other hello and goodbye and all the times in between, and you can’t remember the last time you stopped, why would you stop—

“My love…” Luca’s voice soothes you, so quietly murmured against your forehead with a soft kiss, yet rings so clear in your ears. He cups your face with both hands, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay... I got you.”

The palm of his hand grazes your lips, and you kiss it the way he kisses your Band-Aid earlier. You have no energy left to fight whatever is going on inside you. You don’t understand the nagging urge to be away from him, when being close to him feels this good. You miss his touch and his voice and his face, and you’re so overwhelmed with longing that you close the distance between your lips and his.

Luca gasps when you kiss him—and it feels like the first breath he’s drawn in two years. Your lips are just as he remembers, just as warm and inviting and familiar, and he relishes coming home to them tonight. He didn’t think he would be so lucky ever again, but now you’re here, kissing life back into him again.

Against your better judgment, you stumble into the bedroom, careful to make as little sound as possible as you tread down the hallway. Still tangled in each other. Refusing to let go even for a second. His five o’clock shadow scratches your skin, following the trail of his lips down your neck.

You push him into bed and climb on top of him without a single thought. You need him close, closer than the past two years, closer than now, and your clothes feel like they’re in the way. Of his hands, of his mouth, of his warmth…

You tear your dress off and throw it away, and he stops in his tracks. He has every part of you memorized, every curve and every ridge, every notch of your stretch marks, every inch of your C-section scar from Alfie’s birth… and yet he’s looking at you for the first time all over again.

“Beautiful…” it escapes his mouth just like that, and you kiss him senseless in return. You worry that if you stop, the moment will pass and this whole thing turns out to be just an illusion.

Or worse, a mistake.

You tug his t-shirt over his head, trying not to linger on his broad chest too long. He gets the idea—he is dying to say something, but doesn’t—and just unclasps your bra in response. He keeps his mouth busy by kissing and licking and sucking your newly exposed breasts.

It’s not that you haven’t been touched like this in a while; it’s just that you haven’t been touched by him like this for so long.. “Luca…”

He never thought he’d hear that again. His name in a wanton sigh, uttered by the lost love of his life. He’s not one to waste his chance. “It’s okay. I got you, my love. I got you.”

Because for the first time in a long time, it’s true. He’s got you. He’s got your body underneath him, your nipple in his mouth, your sweet sex in his hand.

God.

You’re so soft, so warm, so wet against his fingers. The little stuttered moan you let out sounds absolutely heavenly. He remembers exactly the last time he was here.

Christmas Eve, two years ago. 

Things had been tense long before that, but Luca was home and able to spend some time with his wife and kid at last. You didn’t seem all that chuffed having him around—whether he was here or not brought out that “neutral look of displeasure” from you these days— but at least you didn’t pull away when he rested his head on your shoulder as the three of you watched Jurassic Park (Alfie’s all-time favorite). Didn’t roll your eyes and turn away when he kissed you and wished you happy Christmas before bed.

And he wanted so desperately for you to openly want him again.

So he tentatively deepened the kiss and reiterated his love for you in every inch of your body that he could get his hands on. Trying to convince you that he was still here. Trying to convince himself that with every orgasm he pried out of you, that you still wanted him there.

But you just… laid there and watched. Hands locked in on the sheets, not even touching him. Motionless as he went through the motions of his thrusts. Numb as he touched and kissed and fucked you the way you used to like. He was fighting a losing battle. He might as well have been making love to a ghost. 

“Luca…” Your breathless voice snaps him out of his own intrusive thoughts, more clear and alive and real than any memory of you posing no desire for him.

“I— yeah, sorry. I just…” he shakes off his own thoughts.

“Hurry up, come on…” you needily thrust yourself into his hand.

“You sure?”

No, and neither does he. But at this point, you’re much too stubborn about your decision in the divorce and much too prideful to admit that you want him back and maybe just a tad too eager to make a mistake with him.

So you nod your head yes, and with a searing kiss, he fingerfucks you the way you needed him to. 

“Oh, God… fuck…” you sigh under the undoing of his fingers. It’s like he never forgot how to work your body. His fingers play a pattern on your clit that makes you sing. And when one slides into you, crooking and curling against your silky heat…

“Luca, I— now.”

He unlatches his mouth from your nipple almost begrudgingly, as if too sweet to part with you. “Not yet, baby. We can’t…”

“What, why?”

“Because…” he nips at the smooth flesh of your chest thoughtfully. How can he explain it to you in a way that makes sense? “I want…” to take as much time with you as possible, he adds another finger inside you deliciously slow. “I need…” to feel you in every way first, he chants in his head as he kisses you through your orgasm.

Your resolve is slipping, but the craving is as ravenous as ever. You try to squirm in protest anyway. “But…”

“Please.” His lips press against your forehead, eyes squeezed shut. “I got you, okay?”

His blue eyes meet yours, as familiar as the sky you’ve walked under your whole life. As sure as day. And before you realize it, you find yourself nodding along.

Watching him slither further down your body. Mouth paving the way between the valleys of your breasts, up the diamond-hard tops of your nipples.

Down your torso.

Between your nether lips.

You don’t remember the last time you did this either. Memories of attempts to rekindle the romance flash before your eyes. The nights that he climbed into bed late at night after work, still smelling like chocolate or mint or whatever ingredient he was working with that day. Waking you up with the parting of your legs and hushed kisses saying, “Missed you so much, baby…”

“Right there. Yes…” you pant as he laps you up where you’re dripping, catching every drop and coaxing more at the same time.

His eyes close, and he swallows back a needy groan. “Come for me, baby.”

The words shoot right into your core, and you’re suddenly overcome with the waves of pleasure running through you, grinding your hips into his mouth shamelessly. Has he always been so greedy in the way he ate you out?

Your head is spinning with need and you hope the broken words you string up are comprehensible enough for him. “Luca, come on, I can’t—”

“No, please—” he seems to understand just fine, but still he shakes his head and buries his face deeper into you.

“Luca…”

“Wait, just let me—”

So insistent. So stubborn. So… needy. You grasp a fistful of hair on the back of his head. Both heaving, you breathe out,

“Please.” 

The word stops him in his tracks. But it’s not so much the word as it is the gravity that comes with it. Whatever the two of you are doing, whatever you’re feeling is beyond words at this point.

It’s just you and him and this need.

And as much as he wants—needs— to satisfy his hunger, there’s just no way of stopping you anymore. Truth be told, he’s not even sure why he’s been stalling you in the first place. Not when you’re so eager to tug his clothes off and touch him absolutely everywhere. To stroke him, and taste him…

“No, baby.” He stops you just before you slither down his body, settling you back on the bed and caging you underneath him.

You throw him a look, indignant. If he’s gonna hold it off some more, you swear to God—

“No, I…” he kisses you hard, hoping you’ll get that he wants you too. More than anything. And that he’ll give you what you want. Hell, he would give you anything if he could come back to this again for the rest of his life. “Just trust me, okay?”

You marvel at the sight before you. So tall and broad and sturdy. With dark blond locks tousled in passion and eyes lidded from lust and longing, and it makes your heart stop because… there it is.

Love.

As much as you shut it out and as much as you avoid it, love is permanently etched to his actions. Tattooed onto the smallest of things. In the way he kisses your temple softly, and the way he caresses your skin as he aligns himself against you, and the way he holds you as he pushes in…

“Luca…” you gasp sharply.

He stops halfway into you, his eyes searching your face with compassion. “You okay?”

You’re aching and craving the stretch of him all at once, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, so you ultimately nod your head. I’m okay. 

And he knows that deep down. He feels the same. Soothed and tormented by your very presence, although he can’t help but ask, “Do you want me to stop?” Please don’t ask me to stop…

You shake your head quickly. Neither of you would ever dream of it. You would take everything—the weight and the sting of it all— and he would leave everything behind just to have this again.

Your hips colliding again in a frenzy of a rhythm you haven’t played in so long—still remembering every beat like it’s your own pulse. Your walls gripping him like you wouldn’t let him go.

He shudders a little. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that…”

“I don’t care,” you murmur into his neck with a kiss, “Come.”

“What…?” He can’t have heard that right… right?

“I want you to.”

“Jesus…” he breathes out. “I wanna make this last, baby—”

You shake your head again and wrap your legs around him almost demandingly. “I want you to come inside me and fill me the fuck up… want you dripping down my legs… please…”

“Fuck!” The images flash before his eyes faster than he can stop his hands from grabbing you by the hips, slamming himself into you. 

Nor can he stop himself from coming deep inside you.

There’s no way to describe the way he feels at that moment. The way tension peaks and snaps into release. How it brings you into your climax as well. Your lips must be swollen from the assault of your own teeth as you hold back the filthy noises coming out of you. You don’t mind the building ache in your thigh muscles, because as soon as that warmth fills you up, your body is overcome by waves of bliss.

“Fuck…” he flops back onto his side of the bed—the right side—and quickly gathers you in his chest. It’s an effortless little maneuver, making sense at last as you lay half on top of him.

Your hand finds his—more puzzle pieces coming together as he fills the spaces between your fingers. You bring it to your lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. Surprised to find the gold wedding band still adorning his ring finger.

***

9:56 PM

“Was that really your first time since we… you know?” Your murmured question rings loud in the absence of the rain. The storm has finally passed, but neither of you move—neither even dare to bring it up— afraid to ruin the moment. 

“It was.”

“Not even in a casual, ‘no strings attached’ kind of situation?”

“No.” He looks almost embarrassed to admit it, but there is no hesitation in his answer.

“Wow…” your heart sinks. Is it possible to feel good and bad at the same time?

Luca pauses for a moment. You can see the conflict brewing in his head. “Did you?”

You don’t have to answer. The sheer silence you take is an answer enough.

The confirmation feels like shit, but he tries to stay neutral. His thumb stills on the back of your hand. “Can I ask how many?”

“Gosh, does that even matter?” You sigh. There’s another argument coming—you can feel it.

“No, I just… I wanna know.”

“You don’t really wanna know.”

“Is it a lot?”

“I mean…”

“How many?” 

You take in a sharp breath. There’s no way out of this now. If the truth is what he wants, then the truth is what he shall get. “Twelve.”

He tenses up next to you. The whole world stops, and you can’t help but think, it’s over. There is no way this marriage is salvageable now. “What…?”

“I know that it’s a big number, and I know you might be upset—”

“That is a big number.” He doesn’t say anything about the latter part of her sentence, but it’s obvious that he’s upset, too. “I just… why?”

“I was trying to get over you.” It’s a pathetic answer, but that’s all it is to it. “I couldn’t sleep in this bed for months. I just couldn’t. Slept on the guest bed instead,” you motion at the next room, “and then one day, I couldn’t take it anymore. It’s like a switch flipped inside my brain, and I needed to—”

“What?”

“I needed to… overwrite the memories of you,” you admit feebly. “On this bed. On my body.”

Knife, meet heart. He’s not sure what answer he was expecting, but whatever it was, this hurts so much more. “And did it work?”

“Up to a point…” you pause, a sad smile in realization. “It’s funny. I keep getting bits and pieces of you somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

You close your eyes, your memories flashing, reminding you that every single time reminds you of Luca one way or another. “It’s… somebody’s perfume, or the timbre of their voice, or the way they hold my hand…”

“And you see me in them?” 

“Every single one.”

“Jesus…” Luca finds himself relieved and choked up at the same time. He doesn’t want you to ever get rid of your memories of him, but at the same time, it’s painful to hear that you tried anyway.

And you tried very hard.

“I’m sorry.”

He hums, and you realize… he hasn’t let go of your hand. Not once. Not even after your little confession. It makes the argument easier, knowing he’s there. It’ll be easier to part with him again after tonight, you hope, knowing you both did your best to understand. Why you needed to be apart. Why you did the things you did.

The armor has been shed, and the two of you are now naked, in every sense of the word.

Luca turns to look at you, studying your profile. He remembers the last time he was here.

He had just told you about Denmark. Stupid of him to feel excited, to tell you he’d just been offered his dream job, to ask you and Alfie to move someplace new with him, because it turned into a fight.

Worse than a fight; it was a death sentence.

You turned away and stared at the ceiling, and told him you couldn’t do this anymore.

And in some fucked up way, Luca feels as if he’d been brought back in time, and this is his one chance to make it right. So he asks you,

“Do you still love me?” 

You breathe out, heart clenching because in spite of yourself, “I do.”

“Do you want us to try again?”

“Luca…” you sigh heavily, “How would that even work? Alfie and I are here, and you have Noma–”

“No more Noma. I’m giving that up.” The answer is straightforward, and he surprises himself over how easily it rolls off of his tongue. How right.

“What? You wouldn’t…” Your face falls as you turn to him.

“I would. And I am,” he says firmly. “Look, I’ve thought about this for months now. I can’t do Noma anymore, I need to be home.” His gaze softens, and you feel the pattern running on the back of your hand again.

Slow and steady and certain.

The tear rolls off the corner of your eye and onto the pillow with the tiniest drop. “I wanted you to come home…”

“Then let me come home. Please?”

“I want to. I just…” you reach out and cup his face tentatively. “I just want to make sure that we’re not doing anything rash.”

His eyes light up. The only thing that matters is that you want him home, too. It takes him everything to let his logical part of the brain take control. “How about this, then?” Luca pauses thoughtfully. “We’ll take a minute. For me to sort out everything at Noma, find a replacement… and for us to figure out if this is really what we wanna do.

“If it starts to feel like a bad idea, maybe we should rethink it. But if it feels good… maybe we can give it another shot.

“And in the meantime, we’ll talk. We’ll FaceTime and… figure out what the hell to say to our lawyers.”

That makes you grimace. You were supposed to have another meeting with your divorce lawyers. Tomorrow is going to be awkward. But awkward beats saying goodbye to the man you’ve always loved, right? It’s a small price to pay.

“What do you say, baby?” He looks at you with all the hope that he has. “Just give me a minute to get everything sorted and then I’ll come home.”

You smile tearfully. “A minute is not enough… how about a month, hm?”

“Yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” He chuckles sheepishly. “A month. I can do that.”

“Good.” You sidle up to him and kiss him where his heart is. You’re willing to settle for having him just for the night, but you can’t wait until he comes home to you for good.

You hope he will.

[littlejuicebox]

My Sun, My Moon

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x GN!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 6 months post BG3 / Part 2 to my other fic Astarion talks in his sleep. Rating/Warnings: PG-13 / In game spoilers / Alludes to sexual encounters / Mentions of past trauma etc / Pretty much all fluff / It’s so sweet it’s going to rot your teeth Word Count: 2.3K Notes: This is 5/5 Days of "Star-mas!"

*takes a bow* Happy Holidays! Hope you all enjoyed!

I'm also entering this into the #BG3HolidayFluffle23 challenge under the prompt "twinkling lights."

Click here to see my master list.

-----

After Astarion’s sleep-talking gave away his little secret, you’d spent nearly every waking moment anticipating the rogue’s proposal. You were horribly, terribly wrong every time, of course. You began to think that perhaps your original assumptions were right, and that an engagement would come much later on. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready. Maybe he was just planning and thinking about the future… the frustratingly distant future. He’d ask the question when he was ready, you reasoned; in his own time and on his own terms. You could respect that.

But then, on the eve of the Netherbrain Battle’s six month anniversary, you came home to a dinner that Astarion had cooked (almost) entirely himself. Candles were lit, table settings were placed, and your lover chose an expensive wine pairing for the meal. His steak was, of course, entirely raw while yours was seasoned and cooked to perfection. You were certain you had Shadowheart to thank for your half of the meal, but you’d complimented your lover and all his efforts, nonetheless. At the end of dinner, you were quite confident that this would be the moment you’d been waiting weeks for.

“I have something to say.” Astarion murmured, lithe fingers rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he clasped it in his own.

You practically felt your soul leave your body in that moment. Oh gods, you knew what your answer would be, you knew this was coming, and yet here it was, and you were still wholly unprepared. You barely fumbled out a, “Y-yes, my love? What is it?”

“I read your mail.” Astarion responded, his eyes flooding full of guilt at the confession. He expelled a small sigh, flicking his gaze up at the ceiling and then back down to you. “Darling, I know we have been discussing this for months, but I really don’t think we should go to the Underdark. You’re getting so many outstanding offers that require you to remain in the city. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate, for god’s sakes. I know you want me to be safe from the sun… but I can’t, in good conscience, do that to you and rip you away from so many wonderful opportunities.”

“O-oh…” Your chest deflates and you catch yourself frowning for just a moment. Astarion’s brow furrows as he incorrectly interprets the cause of your sudden mood shift to be the current conversation and not the crushing disappointment you were trying to shove aside. You quickly try to move into a more neutral expression, but the rogue is already jumping into another worried explanation.

“Darling... Please hear me. I love you more than anything, and I know you better than anyone. You will not be truly happy there, of that much I am absolutely certain. These offers you’re receiving will give you multiple avenues to build the life you want…. the life we want. Imagine the good you could do with that level of influence, my love! Let me help you; I can review contracts, negotiate deals… whatever you need to ensure your success. Do not throw away so much potential on my account. I simply couldn’t live with myself if you did.”

He was right, of course. The only thing you wanted almost as much as you wanted Astarion was to continue the good work you two had been doing for Baldur’s Gate.

You sigh and nod your head, squeezing his hand gently. “You’re right, my love. I suppose it would be silly for both of us to throw away so much opportunity.”

Astarion beamed at your response before leaning over the table to plant a kiss on your lips. You smiled at the rogue when he pulled away to look at you with adoring crimson eyes. Perhaps it hadn’t been the conversation you were hoping for, but it had been a good and much needed one, nonetheless.

-----

Tonight, you and Astarion decided to take a stroll around the city. You were following the vampire’s lead, ambling around the streets as he pointed out more than a few of his old haunts. He revealed some of the difficult moments in his past as you two meandered about… more than one of the tales nearly made you cry with an overwhelm of sympathy for your lover. But you held back, knowing the elf hated eyes full of pity almost as much as he’d hated Cazador.

You noted that Astarion seemed to look back on his experience with more acceptance now. You knew, of course, that there were likely an infinite number of stories he had not yet revealed to you and perhaps never would. But you were still happy to see a bit of lightness in him as he spoke his truth. He hadn’t appeared to have one of his episodes on the entire walk, and as you pondered this, you also realized his night terrors had only occurred a handful of times this month. Such an improvement to what had been an almost daily incidence when you two originally moved in together.

Before long, you and your love arrived at the docks, where just over six months ago you’d felt as if you’d been stabbed in the gut as you watched the rays of sunlight scorch the vampire until he was forced to run for cover. But now, you two stood there hand in hand, resting in a pocket of comfortable silence. Both of you were admiring the twinkling starlight, full moon, and dark, mysterious expanse of the sea.

“The stars were so much more beautiful in the wilds… don’t you think, my sweet?” Astarion asks, his eyes filled with wistfulness as he ponders the sky.

You utter a little hum of agreement as your mind flashes to the first night in camp, when you caught Astarion reclined on his bedroll, stargazing. You turned your head to look at the rogue and remind him of the memory, but found he disappeared from your line of sight. Your vision wanders down and there he is, bent on one knee.

Oh this had to be the moment. Just when you were about to shout yes before the rogue even had a moment to say anything, Astarion looks up and smiles, a small pouch of gold coins in his hand. “Look! I suppose it’s our lucky day, darling. Their loss is our gain, would— are you alright, Tav? You’ve got this strange look on your face.”

Gods, not again. You feel your face flush with embarrassment. In your excitement and overwhelm, you’d almost ruined everything and let Astarion know that you knew his little secret. You made the decision then and there that this would be the last time you anticipated his proposal; let it happen when it’s meant to happen. You were done playing the guessing game. You couldn’t ruin everything with your big fat mouth.

You nod your head slightly before turning to look back at the stars once more, taking a deep breath and hoping to settle yourself.

“Yes, my love. I suppose I’m just thrilled by the beauty of the stars and the full moon, tonight. And by your beauty, of course.”

The rogue stands up, tucking the small sachet in his pocket. He smiles and places a soft, loving peck on the apple of your cheek before wrapping his arm around your waist. The two of you look up at the stars once more, and you spend a few moments pointing out some constellations in the sky. Stargazing had been one of the first things you two bonded over in camp.

Astarion is watching you with devoted interest as you ramble on about the planets and the mythological creatures represented by the patterns in the stars. Finally, there is a small lapse in conversation, and you want to take the opportunity to kiss him, but when you turn, the vampire is once again out of your sight line.

When you look down this time, Astarion is looking up at you, holding a velvet box in shaking hands.

“Tav—" He manages to choke out, but then his eyes fill with tears, and he stops to blink them away, chuckling softly at himself. You immediately come to kneel in front of your love, hands pressed to either side of his face, silently urging him to continue.

The vampire inhales shakily, suddenly quite overwhelmed by the extreme vulnerability he knows he’s about to lay before you. But the softness of your hands on his face grounds him in the moment and he smiles, admiring the look of utter adoration in your eyes.

A couple of tears fall over the edge of his lash line, and you immediately swipe them away with your shaking thumb. Another chuckle escapes the silver-haired elf, and he shakes his head in disbelief.

“My love… I’ve rehearsed this for weeks. I’ve said it all out loud more than a thousand times, I’m sure. I’ve spent almost every opportunity in your absence practicing this. One time I even had Shadowheart pretend to be you while I rehearsed my grand speech. But now that we are here… I’ve nearly forgotten everything I wanted to say.”

You move forward to press a kiss to Astarion’s lips, your hands still shaking as you run your thumb over his cheekbone. “It’s okay, my Star. Please continue, when you’re ready… rehearsed or from the heart… I want to hear it all the same.”

Astarion nods just a fraction and inhales. The shaking hand that is not holding the ring box comes to lay atop your own hand resting on his face. Your love slowly, absently runs his thumb along the back of your palm as he gathers his thoughts. He stares into your eyes with so much love that you almost kiss him again but hold yourself back to allow him to continue.

Astarion exhales a shuddering breath and then continues in a reverent tone, as if he’s whispering a prayer, “My darling. I have lived long life. Much of it was a sad and hopeless one. When we were walking through the city, I pointed out several places where I’d encountered horrible things. Many of those things are still hard to talk about… some of it, I don’t know that I will ever be able to.”

You are crying now, from the overwhelming blend of sympathy for your little Star and palpable feeling of love in this beautiful moment. Tears begin coursing thin streams down your cheeks. Astarion wipes away the tears as they fall, though his lips start trembling from your display of emotion.

“B-but what I do know is that… in many of the places I pointed out, there are also memories of us. Of our friends. Of the time we spent together before saving the city and of the six months we’ve spent here after that. Little by little, we are taking places that only held horrible memories for me and turning them into places that hold feelings of hope and happiness.

I guess what I’m saying is that… these past six months have been the counterweight to two hundred years of misery. And I do not think I deserve you, but I cannot imagine my life without you. You are everywhere I go, everywhere I look, and every happy memory I hold in my heart. If you’ll have me… I would like to spend the rest of our lives, however long they may be, turning this city into a place of hope for us and for the people we hold dear.”

Astarion opens the box, and you gasp in true awe as he reveals possibly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen. At the center is a beautiful moonstone, emitting an ethereal glow that shines brilliantly in the darkness of the pier. The setting is gold, and an intricate sunburst pattern made in smaller gems surrounds the center stone.

“Standing on the dock that day, after that long battle… I had the thought that my life was ruined when I realized I could no longer stand in the sun. I thought I might never know true happiness again. But it turns out, that was the moment my new life with you began… and you’ve opened the door to more happiness than I could’ve ever imagined for myself.

Even if I never see the sun again, I have made my peace. I would make the choices I made to be here with you, on this dock, in this moment, again and again in every lifetime. You are my sun and my moon. And my darling, it would be my honor to be your Star for the rest of time. Tav… will you marry me?”

As soon as the question comes out of your lover’s lips, you instantly push forward to crash into Astarion, enveloping the elf in an emotional kiss. You both topple over from the sheer force of your ardor, and as you do, the vampire deftly snaps the ring box closed to protect it from spilling out onto the dock.

When you finally break away, panting heavily, both your faces are thoroughly flushed with excitement. The vampire looks up at you, scarlet eyes filled with absolute devotion. You giggle and press one more soft kiss to the rouge before taking your hand in his and pressing a kiss to his knuckle. “Yes, Astarion. Nothing in this life would make me happier than to share it with you.”

-----

Later that evening, the two of you are naked in bed after several rounds of vigorous celebration. You’re admiring your ring, which is still faintly glowing in the semi-darkness of your bedchambers. Astarion takes your hand and presses his lips to the ring with a small smile; his scarlet eyes closely examine the gem.

“I don’t know how it works… you would have to ask Gale. But the center stone glows when I think of you, you know.”

You blink, moving to touch the gemstone in the middle of the ring with curiosity. “But it hasn’t stopped glowing since we’ve been on the docks.”

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we’ve been on the docks.” Astarion replies simply, moving his hand to stroke your cheek as a gentle, good-natured laugh escapes his mouth, “Perhaps now you’ll have some insight into how often my thoughts revolve around you, my sweet.”

You feel your eyes welling with tears again. Damn this man and his beautiful heart… he truly never misses a detail when it comes to you. You move forward to pull his lips into another loving kiss, and when you break away this time, a thought crosses your mind.

“Astarion… did you really find that bag of coins on the dock?”

Your lover grins mischievously, his crimson eyes crinkling at the corners as he grabs your ring-clad hand and kisses it once more.

“No, my sweet. But I had to throw you off. Shadowheart told me about my mishap. I wanted to surprise you… but you know me far too well and you’ve never been easily fooled… and the sleepy confession didn’t help things at all. I just figured that you would never anticipate that I’d drop down on one knee twice in a row.”

Astarion knew you just as well as you knew him… and he had been right. He’d fooled you. You roll your eyes and chuckle as the rogue moves closer to you, nuzzling into the side of your neck where fresh fang marks throbbed.

“Now what do you say, darling? One more round of celebration before we go to bed?”

[seeingivy]

picnic

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

(^^make sure you check since this was a double upload and I posted the last one very recently :D)

--

dear head of the cullen clan,  keep evening plans open – im getting off work early and we’re going on a picnic.  coldest regards,  the head of the volturi  (ps. am expecting a very wholehearted appreciation for the fact that it’s coldest regards and not warmest regards, because they are, in fact, vampires and therefore cold. because they don’t have a heart and such.)  (extra ps. this is a link to a shared spotify playlist. i’ll add a song and then you add one. we’ll keep it going.) 

you snort. 

dear aro of the volturi (does he have a last name???),  so much to unpack in one email, yet again. you really know how to keep a girl on her toes.  first and foremost, you are SOOOO ran through. so offended that i wasn’t the person who got to put you on to twilight and whoever it was, I HOEP SHE DIES! if you’re team jacob, you’re a freak.  second, SO VERY FLATTERED that you think i would be carlisle. a little haunting that you think YOU would be aro…but it’s ok cuz former companions to enemies back to lovers in our case would be kind of crazy???  third. done and done. i just added a song so hurry up bc i have like ten other songs i want to add and i am #impatient  see u after work pookie :D,  carlisle cullen  (very appreciative of the cold regards. you are a king among men.) 

his response back is very prompt. 

Never call me pookie again.  (very offended that you think i’d be stupid enough to be team jacob. and direct your murderous rage towards yuuji and my mom, who forced me to watch it in theaters with them.) 

--

you wait for sukuna at the park two blocks down the apartment complex. the sun is hours away from dipping into the horizon, the chilly wind rustling through the trees. you realize now that the red skirt and white sweater might betray you in a few hours but decide that you’ll simply have to steal his jacket when he gets here. 

and you would have already but he’s twenty minutes late.

and while this part of the city is extremely safe, sukuna’s ever constant fear of people attacking you on subway trains and stabbing you in alleyways has instilled an acute fear of strangers in you, which is why you’re gripping the sparkly pink pepper spray he bought you very harshly in your palm right now. 

you think it’s sweet that he bought you a pink one. 

but of course it’s severely ironic that you almost used it on him. 

because he scares the living daylights out of you, by placing his hand around your shoulder from behind. 

“hey. i’m sorry i-” 

“jesus fuck-” 

you instinctively hold the pepper spray up to his face, your hands shaking in front of you. 

“i’ll use it, you pervert!” 

sukuna leans his head to the side, which is when you’re finally able to log that it’s actually him standing in front of you and not a stranger, and you drop your hands in embarrassment. 

“i mean, i’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t doll face but–” 

“oh my god, sukuna. i thought you were trying to rob me!” 

“i’m smarter than that. the only thing inside your purse is lip gloss, which has very little value to me.” sukuna responds, dropping the little basket at his feet and taking the little stalk of flowers out of the top handle. 

“i’ll have you know that it’s actually sold out in every store right now. so you could make bank if you sold it.” 

“don’t tempt me. and for your sake, i’ll accept the apology you didn’t give me for just trying to rob me of my eyesight and for calling me a pervert? i’m getting really tired of the age gap jokes, y/n.” sukuna responds, as he lifts your hands at your sides and places the stalk of flowers in your hand. 

you give him a big smile as you press your nose to the flowers, the scent fresh in your nose. and sukuna props down, setting a billowing white blanket on the ground before he taps the spot next to him and signals for you to sit next to him. 

“who needs eyes?” you joke, as you squeeze his hands and set the flowers down next to the little basket. 

“me, dipshit. how else am i supposed to look at you?” 

you cover your hands with your cheeks as you watch him place all of the little things inside the basket next to you, laying them out perfectly. it’s albeit a weird assortment – two wine glasses, perfectly wrapped sandwiches, a mini-cake, and strawberry lemonade. 

“well, stop perceiving me. this is so weird!” you murmur. 

it’s enough to catch his attention and stop him in his tracks. 

“what?” 

the question makes you pause. and a little embarrassed. it was a little harsh to say while you were joking.

“oh, i mean…i didn’t mean it like that! i was making a joke about perceiving because eyes…vision…and i almost took your vision away! and you perceive with your eyes, because how else would you see…” 

sukuna smiles, before shaking his head, and continuing spilling out the last of the contents – a set of gouache paints and two little small canvases. and he drops to his feet, yanking his shoes off, before sitting flat on the blanket and gesturing for you to join him. 

“there’s no way in hell that was what you meant. but we’ll ignore that for the time being.” sukuna responds, hiking his legs to his chest and gesturing towards the spread he just put out. 

you tilt your head to the side in confusion. 

“you look very pretty today.” sukuna responds. 

“thanks! you too!” 

he narrows his eyes. 

“uh huh. well, pick what we do first. the paint, the sandwiches, or the weird wine glass cake.” 

“the wine glass cake? like from tiktok?” you ask. 

“correct. i’m really bad at…cute dates. so…i did some research.” 

sukuna refuses to look at you. because after admitting it, he’s suddenly busied himself with reading the back of the box of paints, like it’s the most riveting, intriguing thing he’s ever read in his life. 

but the pink flush that’s creeping down his neck betrays him entirely, as you reach forward and push the little box down. and sukuna’s already glaring at you. 

you place your chin on the top of his knees, reaching for one of his hands and smiling. 

“you did research for a date?” 

“you can choke on your spit.” 

you grin. 

“you really know how to turn a girl on.” 

“you’re filthy.” 

you grin. 

“and you’re actually so precious, i–” 

“don’t call me precious, y/n.” he whines, as he reaches forward to flick on your forehead. 

you smile as you sit by his side, tucking the folds of your skirt under your leg as you reach for both of the wine glasses and hand him one. 

“so how humbling was it to have satoru explain all this to you?” you ask. 

he sneers. 

“don’t even ask. he’s like the biggest nuisance i’ve ever met in my life. top ten worst moments of my life.” sukuna responds. 

“i’m flattered you humbled yourself to him for me.” 

“i actually asked suguru. they’re like…two peas in a pod, they can’t do shit without each other. the paints and stuff they gave me and the nice basket too.” 

“that’s sweet of them. remind me to send them something later to thank them.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“no need. they were more than happy to give it up for you.” 

“ah yes. i hear they’re big fans of this camping bag story. the scouts honor and the fake story we had to tell them makes a lot more sense now.” you respond. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“okay, you know what? sue me. i was like sixteen sleeping next to a girl for the first time. god forbid i enjoyed myself. and i don’t know why they’re all so hyperfixated on that story because it was a very normal thing to assume when you’re asked that question.”  

you snort. 

“and you say you’re not a pervert…” 

sukuna leans forward, his eyes flitting down to his lips before he looks back up at you. and he can tell that you’re in a mood, that you’re trying to push his buttons by annoying him. 

“you know i despise you right?” he whispers. 

you grin, leaning in. 

“is that right?” you whisper back. 

“oh yeah. you irritate me.” 

there isn’t even a shred of earnestness in the words he’s uttering. you know he doesn’t mean them. 

“keep going.” you respond, as he presses a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. 

“you’re a nuisance.” – a kiss to your forehead. 

“an irritation.” – a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“like a fucking thorn in my side.” – and a kiss to the sweet spot right in your neck and his hand snaking up your thigh, which makes you nearly keel your head back from the sensation. 

you place your hands on his cheek and pull him back, face flushed and his eyes nearly glazed over. 

“are you crazy?” you whisper. 

“what?” he asks. 

“we’re in public, dumbass. you can’t just start trying to rile me up.” 

sukuna leans back, obliging. 

“so you admit it? i was riling you up?” 

“oh, shut up.” 

you reach for the sandwiches and unpeel one for sukuna. before he takes it, he places a tiny white box in your lap. 

you frown. first the fancy date but the jewelry too? 

“sukuna. you didn’t–” 

“just open it. i’m impatient and i’ve been waiting all day. and i actually think you’ll like it. otherwise, you’re ungrateful and rude and you hate me.” sukuna responds. 

you give him a tight lipped smile before you open the little box and actually smile. 

it’s a dainty silver chain – the exact same as sukuna’s from the chain-links, but the build is a little thinner. and right at the center, a little charm of a star. 

you reach forward for his chain, dangling around his collarbone. and surely enough, in addition to the original charm he had of an interlocked circle, there’s a star charm added right next to it. 

“you always reach for it. when you’re talking or when we’re kissing. figured i’d get you your own since you’re such a big fan.” 

“you are so…” 

“perfect? sexy? the father of your children?” 

“i was thinking adorable. can i answer d for all of the above?” you respond. 

sukuna grins. 

“survey says yes, princess.” he responds. 

you yank the chain from the little box and hand it to him, before turning around for him to secure it on you. his fingers tickle against the nape of your neck, accompanied by a warm kiss, before he taps your shoulders to signify that he’s done. 

“you know. you really are perceiving me right now.” you respond. 

“and how’s that?” 

“i know you’re obsessed with me and pay attention to every word i say.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“obviously.” 

you jab at his side. 

“i mean, i know you’re doing this because i mentioned picnics yesterday and always feeling left out. sure you could put two and two together that he never really bought me any nice gifts or anything when i said he ruined my birthday.” 

“okay, captain obvious. and?” 

you shove him once more, before leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“well, i appreciate it. i know the whole…cutesy painting date isn’t your thing. we won’t have to do it again. and that you…you’re trying to make this whole thing special for me.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“i’m offended. first and foremost, i always like to eat with you. every time i think that there’s no way you can amaze me more, you find another way to spill food on your clothes.” 

“hey! that’s not true.” 

“you already spilled on the blanket. second, this is a very violent way to eat cake. you literally mess up all the layers by doing that and destroy the piping on the cake which i can admit, i am a fan of. and third, i’m going to paint us as worms, which seems enjoyable to me.” 

you curl your nose. 

“worms?” 

“yeah. what were you going to paint?” 

“i don’t know. but it certainly wasn’t going to be worms. like the park or flowers or something.” 

“boring. i’m going to paint us as slimy worms. and because we made it on this date, you’ll have to agree to put it up in the apartment, even if it’s ugly.” 

“sukuna.” you whine. 

“especially if it’s ugly. it’s a testament to our love.” he responds, dramatically placing his hands on  his chest. 

“you know, you’re so right. worms have been a really defining feature of your relationship.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips and an additional one on your cheek. 

“you just get me, princess!” 

and he breaks the little joke by lifting one of your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss on all four of your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek. 

“and i have to do special things for a special person.” 

you return the gesture, lifting his tattooed fingers to your lips and doing the same. 

“you know…you’re really good at this type of thing.” you murmur. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i mean, being a boyfriend. and…and being supportive about everything. sometimes i feel like i’m trying really hard to be the best but…just comes naturally to you.” you respond. 

sukuna shrugs. 

“don’t know if i’m perfect but…loving you has always come really easy to me. i don’t really have to think twice about it because these are actually just things i want to do for you.” 

you groan. 

“see! that’s what i’m saying! you always just…say sweet things, do sweet things. sometimes i’m convinced i’m not even half deserving of it, just because sometimes i don’t reciprocate that back.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward. 

“you know, you actually do though.” 

“as if.” you groan. 

sukuna pauses, before leaning his cheek against the tops of his knees and looking out at the expanse of grass in front of you. you follow his line of vision – to the dog running in the distance, the wide, billowing trees, and the little flower truck on the side – which you now realize is where sukuna copped the flowers from earlier. 

“i mean, this type of thing. that we have, or…or the way i act around you. it means a lot to you because, you…you’ve never had this before. right?” 

“yeah.” 

“well, i haven’t had you before. i know you see me as perfect, but…but when you say that i can tell that you don’t mean it the way my mom or…or yuuji think that i’m perfect. in the untouchable way.” 

you lean forward, cupping the side of his face. 

“sukuna. you’re so touchable.” you joke. 

“you’re disgusting.” 

“you love it.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“yeah, i really do. it does actually mean the world to me that you think i’m perfect how i am and don’t think i’m larger than life.” 

“if anything, your ego could be smaller.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“and…and even the other day. i know you were acting squirrely and weird when yuuji was near us and heard us bickering, but i was half convinced that you were going to take his side at the end, when he started saying that stuff about me. because it is true and i have acted a certain way in the past…and, you would have every right to agree with him if you wanted to.” 

you frown. 

“no, i wouldn’t. you’ve never treated me like that and i know you’re being earnest when you say these things to me. this would be a very elaborate way to get into my pants if that was what you were trying to do. and i know it’s not.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s what i’m saying. every other person for me has never given me that benefit of the doubt, but you always do. you were the person who thought to tell me that my grandpa died when you all came to get me and you were the one who wasn’t mad at me. the things you do for me are the same, in equal magnitude, as what i do for you. if this makes you feel good, or…or on top of the world, you have to know that’s how you make me feel too. i’m half convinced that you’re basically made for me at this point the way you get everything right on point.” 

you lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his lips. 

“i really think you’re made for me too, ryomen.” 

sukuna groans, dramatically leaning his head back, before nearly pushing you over and peppering kisses to almost every surface on your face. 

“quit fucking saying my name. you have no idea what that does to me.” 

“i mean, i think i have an idea.” 

sukuna clamps his fingers over your mouth, before pressing a few more lingering kisses to your face and pushing off. and subsequently, picks all of the grass out of your hair as you roll your eyes. 

and after that sukuna, admittedly, very aggressively uses the wine glasses to portion off little slices of the cake and makes it a point to finish off yours when you can’t stomach the sweetness. and true to his promise – sukuna paints the two of you as worms, but at the park, stargazing. 

it’s a little silly, the way he paints it. you were expecting it to be more gory or gross, but it’s so corny that it makes you smile. because he draws the two little worms, but distinguishes between the two of you, by swiping some of your pink paint and adding a little ribbon to the one that’s supposed to be you. 

sukuna explains the stars. because before sukuna had dragged you out of that shitty bathroom bar, it’s what megumi and yuuji said in his drunken mess – he had pointed at two little stars and likened them to him and megumi.

and you’re almost positive that at the time, sukuna found it utterly ridiculous. but now, he understood it – the sentiment. that you and sukuna were two little worms, and two stars, and two little flowers too. 

and to his promise, the two of you decide to place the little canvases you drew at the end of the kitchen counter. 

it’s only then that you realize that you have to go the whole ten miles for sukuna the way he had done for you – countless times again. and that if you were going in blind in trying to make something special, you’d have to take a page out of his book and do some research. 

and there was only one person who could really help you, who you’d rather die than humble yourself to than ask for help. 

regardless of that, you still call sammy the next morning.

--

next part linked here

an: they're about to do it. anyways....there is a very real playlist to match the one that they talk about in the fic -- and it matches the way it described in the fic! so it's interleaved, the first song is a song that sukuna would have added, the second one that y/n added, the third sukuna, so on and so forth. it's linked here! happy listening babies

second an: thank you for the love on the last chapter. it makes my heart really warm bc all of that was actually based on a REAL MAN and real things that I have felt/have said to me and just having people comment that they felt seen by it or it made them feel a certain type of way actually made me really happy and so warm. this blog was one of the first things I did after I stopped being really, really sad and i'm glad that i'm able to share a little joy here and there, if that's what this fic is for you. anyways this is long and sappy and gross and actually I just love you all for enduring the ouchies and the sillies with me a little bit 💌

third an: double upload bc yall were so patient with me :D

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani79 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[theunforgvnn]

i think im obsessed with leon spiderman au

Leon's ribs were probably broken, his legs were shaking and he was definitely bleeding yet he didn't seem to care.

“Are you okay?” He quickly ran to you. He sounded stressed and even though you couldn't see it, his facial expression was worried as well.

You just nodded. Maybe you weren't well enough to talk right now, maybe Spider-Man had saved you and was standing in front of you in the flesh.

After a few minutes of silence, you asked. “Are you okay?”

He nodded and added "Ready to go home?"

"Yeah, yeah." He asked you for your address and you had no idea he already knew your address. Not like he was a pervert or a stalker he already knew you and maybe he loved you ever since he met you.

He then opened his arm for you to hug. You were already soaked from falling into the river, so when Leon wrapped his arm around you, you felt warm. Leon panicked even more because you could hear how fast his heart is beating.

Swinging around in Spiderman’s arms was an experience you would never forget. On the other side Leon was sure that it didn’t hurt that much anymore because he was hugging you.

When your feet touch the ground you wanted it to last longer. He stood upside down, watching you. “Take a hot shower when you get home, alright?” You nodded. “Thanks, for everything.” And smiled softly.

"I'm your friendly neighborhood Spider-man,that's my job." He simply said.

"You talk like saving someone's life is a normal thing to do, but you do that every day, right?" Leon chuckled.

"I would save you any day, but please don't be in a situation like this again, okay?" But deep down Leon knew that what happened to you was his fault because whenever someone learnt who he really is something always happen to you.

"I'll try." You smiled. Then you waited, you waited without knowing why.

You reached for his mask. Leon took your hand. “Wait.”

"Don't worry, I have no intention of revealing your identity."

You pulled his mask down to his nose. “Can i ?”

"Please..."

And then it happened, the moment Leon had been waiting for years, time stopped the second his lips touched yours. Leon wanted this moment to never end, he wanted you to love Leon S Kennedy not only Spider-Man .

But he broke the kiss first. He adjusted his mask and said, "Take care." this time not caring about changing his voice.

You watched as he swung away and he watched you from an angle where you couldn't see him.

"Leon ?" You snapped your fingers

“Hm ?” Leon realized he hasn’t been listening to you.

“Oh my god…you’re the one who asked me to tell you what happened yesterday and you’re not even listening. Am i starting to bore you ?”

“No,no you’re not.” He swallowed his food. “I’m sorry,my bad.”

You just smiled. “Well, good thing that Spider-man was there to save me. Y’know he was definitely taller than than the photos you took. He even might be taller than you.”

“Pretty sure we are the same height.” Leon immediately added.

“I'm not sure, I need to see you two together first.” You shrugged. “Then we kissed but i don’t think he liked it.”

“What makes you say that ?”

“He ran away.” You sighed.

Leon didn't respond at first. “You like him ?” He asked instead.

“Doesn’t matter.” You shrugged.

“Why not ?” He asked obviously surprised.

“Leon,he is Spider-man ! Spider-man for god’s sake ! Today Stacey talked to me and asked me if i can introduce her to Spider-man.” You laughed but not because you were happy more like painful.

Leon nodded, you both ate your lunch in silence.

But tonight he will come to your house and kiss you, but this time he won't stop until you do.

ARGHHH I LOVE HIM

I WASN’T GONNA END IT LIKE THIS BUT I GOT LAZY ☹️☹️

anyways this is kinda translated sooo…. sorry if this fic doesn’t make sense 🙏

[pavosnoctua]

cw: yandere, dark themes, obsessive behaviors, forced marriage, possessive behaviors, controlling behaviors, implied isolation, implied non-con touching, implied forced starvation. afab reader. mdni, minors dni! i do not condone the behaviors in this fic.

my first time writing a yandere fic. please lmk if i am missing a tag or warning!

You don't know why but Diluc one day tells you that he is giving a few more freedoms - slightly begrudgingly but you won't be alone outside. The winery is well staffed, Adelinde will be nearby so be good.

(Maybe Adelinde felt a twinge of sympathy for you, hearing you cry every night when Diluc would get too rough with you. You delude yourself into thinking this)

Be good is what you repeat to yourself as you step outside into the sunlight since he brought you here - it feels like ages ago, unreal to you, with the way the warmth of the sun hits your skin and you have to initially squint at the brightness. The Manor is so dark in comparison - it's windows always covered and the lighting so dim.

Adelinde watches you with the same hawkish look Diluc does, and you're not sure who you'd rather have following you like an unwanted storm cloud.

So, you meander around the property within the limits given to you. You soak up the sun, take in all the smells - everything you've missed for the last six months. All that can be taken away on a whim.

You're smart - you like to believe you're smart but you find a path that hasn't been used and Adelinde is currently distracted because of Hillie and Moco, you consider. One foot in front of the other.

Liyue is only a half a days walk from here.

Just follow this path while everyone is distracted - your heart hammers in your chest as you stand, frozen.

"Is everything okay?" Diluc startles you, you quickly turn to face him and look down, hoping that act appeases him. "Are you ill? Let's get you back inside-"

"No!" You shout, jerking away. He looks unimpressed and you clear your throat. "I mean, no, I'm fine. Just...spaced out."

Diluc makes a noise and you wish he'd go away so you could plan your path of escape.

"Come. Let's eat outside today for lunch." It's an order. You obey, glancing back at the path longingly - hoping it'll still be there in a few days if you are allowed back outside again.

Mercy comes through the sake of the woman who serves as Diluc's eyes. You are allowed outside on a weekly basis, you've been good and sweet and obedient. You sleep with Diluc, kiss him without crying - go along with his whims and delusions.

And one day, when the staff is too busy to watch you, you slip away. The path is overgrown and unseen. You step forward.

And again.

Further into the forgotten bushes and trees until you come to a clearing. The Winery is still in view and the path is vaguely there.

Liyue is a half a days walk, you tell yourself - looking at the shitty shoes you're wearing. The delicate clothes.

And as you turn and walk, vaguely remembering the map - a hand grabs you and jerks you back. Red, hot. You scream.

You swear at him, tell him how much you hate him as he looks at you with hurt and betrayal. He yells orders for that area to be blocked off, says doors are to be locked down as he drags you back because you won't walk for him. You claw at him and more words tumble out. Adelinde simply watches.

"You got greedy." Diluc snaps as he shoves you into your shared room. You cannot cause a scene anymore - watching his Vision glow with his growing emotions. You do not wish to deal with burns on top of the scrapes and bruises you just got. And whatever punishment he'll inflict on you now. "I never should have agreed to let you go outside. I could have lost you!"

"That's the point." you mutter. His eyes burn.

"What?"

You cross your arms over your chest and look at him in the eyes. "I said what I said."

Diluc is quiet for a moment - as if thinking. Finally, he turns to Adelinde, who only looks at you with pity and disappointment.

"They are to not receive a meal for the next two days. No one but me is to see them."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm doing this because I care about you." Diluc tells you but you only just stare at him. He considers many things in that moment but chooses to leave instead, door half slamming behind him.

You don't wince anymore.

"You should have been grateful for what you were given," Adelinde tells you as she goes to work to make your bed, pick out different clothes. "Do you understand that I had to convince him to allow you such a freedom?"

"I'm sorry." you say, automatically. She does not answer, opting to leave you alone with nothing more to say.

[workingbynyx]

heey, saw that you were open for requests so I would like to ask for a romcom jason todd x reader where the reader is flirty and has a crush on Red Hood, but has no idea that he is Jason Todd (their regular at the cafe they own) so he gets kinda flustered everytime he sees the reader when he is going to get coffee

(hope you can understand this, english is not my first language)

Beautiful Stranger — Jason Todd x GN!Reader

↷ summary — after a faithful encounter with red hood one night ago, you quickly developed a crush on the masked vigilante. but, would you believe if the cute regular at your coffee shop was him? ˎˊ˗

↷ pairing — jason todd x gn!reader ˎˊ˗

↷ genre — romance, comedy, a bunch of fluff ˎˊ˗

↷ warning/s — none! other than a few curse words, use of y/n and possible grammar errors ˎˊ˗

↷ a/n — hi anon! dw i LOVEEEE that request sm, i hope you have fun reading this as much as i had writing it ^^ i might've switched it up a bit in the process so i'm so sorry for that 😭 i also figured i'd use the wayne family adventures version of jason for this one since it kinda fits the whole theme of this fic hihi and he turned into such a simp in this so it might be ooc at some point help, enjoy reading! ˎˊ˗

"what the hell are you doing here walkin' around late at night?" the masked man said in between short breaths after taking down a robber that's been following you since you closed down the café for tonight. you were lucky enough to have 'the' red hood on patrol and save you from a potential robbery. the thought of him guiding, if not stalking, you and jumping on the thug as soon as he's about to make a move somehow made your heart skip at the act of service...if its even counted with them now laying on the ground unconscious.

what you didn't know is this man was jason, the regular you'd have come in around 9 to 10 am to have his morning coffee and sit around the shop until lunch. you always observed the guy to be somewhat mysterious but endearing at the same time, he'd always ask for the same coffee and pastry combo over and over again, not bothering to change his order. he became quite an easy customer to remember at some point, other than the fact that he had white streaked hair which made him attractive and memorable to you. in fact, everytime he came in all you had to do was ask "the usual?" and jason'll nod along then go back to his corner, mouthing a silent 'thank you' when you deliver his treat and maybe even strike up a conversation if he's in the mood.

but right now, jason is simply the infamous masked red vigilante who just kicked some ass for your own sake.

"my apartment is this way, how was i supposed to know robbers lurked around here" you replied in return, tucking in one of your hands inside the pocket of your coat as you froze in front of him. jason began approaching you and stopped when you came face to face, the height difference between the two of you forced you to tilt your head upwards— the all-white lens of his helmet staring down at you. "watch the news, its not safe out here. take the route to your right next time, and bring at least a pepper spray with you" if only his mask didn't have a built in voice changer you would've known seconds ago it's him.

you were stunned for a moment as he listed down things that'd probably go straight out your other ear. "y'know, for someone i just met you're oddly protective over me" you finally spoke, a hint of mischief underlying your tone. that's when you begun wondering who is it under that costume. is he cute? is he what you're imagining him to be like?

jason, on the other hand, blinked a couple times out of confusion if it weren't for his get up covering his entire features. "what?" he said. "nothing, it's just...i didn't think a vigilante would care so much for a civilian like me" you answered, an innocent smile creeping up your lips like an idiot in love. "its my job. obviously i should look out for the people of Gotham, shouldn't i?" he crossed his arms across his chest, covering the red insignia of his bulletproof suit.

"obviously, i guess i didn't have the special treatment like i thought" you practically said with a slight pout forming when you look up to him, going silent for a moment. "do you really tell all the people you save to bring pepper spray or just me? i wanna know if i got the special advisory from you at least" you added as a tease, earning a slight frustrated groan from jason afterwards. "i don't have time for this—" "well I do" you bravely chimed in without missing a beat. "i got all night even"

the sigh jason had let out was almost comical, he took a step backward when it's really just him starting to get flustered by his barista seemingly flirting with his other identity, who would've thought you'd find him attractive? not jason that's for sure. "get home safe, take the route i told you if you wanna keep your wallet stocked" then he noticed the small cut on your cheekbone, it must've been from the pocket knife the thug had.

he briefly pointed at it, "you got something" you lifted your fingers to search for it only to be met with a slight sting when you did, a small amount of blood staining your index finger. you hissed at the feeling, squinting your eye when it lingered for a bit. "calm down, its not that serious" jason said. "some alcohol and bandaid should do the trick" and you took his advice, you certainly wouldn't allow yourself to show up at work with a random cut to your face.

"y'know why don't you help and patch me up at this point? i could use some assistance" and you still had the nerve to decide and toy around with him for a bit...to see how far the both of you are willing to go. to be fair, you just wanted to know who was it under that mask— this could potentially lead to it if you're lucky. "what are you, 8?" jason replied. "no but i'm surely a 10" you winked playfully, the corner of your lip turning into a smirk as you watched his body language intently.

"jesus christ.." jason muttered under his breath, starting to walk away from this situation he's stuck in. "aw c'mon! that was a smooth line admit it! oh okay— well, thank you red..man! i'll see you soon...i think" you yelled from the same position you're in, seeing his tall frame go farther in the distance. jason didn't say nothing in return, but he kept a secret smile under his mask as he disappeared from sight.

its been a couple weeks since your last encounter with red hood, you took most of his suggestions that night and started going the safer route when you had to be on the closing shift. since then, you've been at the lower risk of getting robbed again thanks to him and his unforgettable presence. but it's not only you who hasn't stopped thinking about that night, jason was still trying to relive the moment of his barista basically flirting with him. he figured you would've known it's him within seconds...guess not.

it didn't bother him, it's the thought of your reaction to him being behind the helmet is what. jason wouldn't blame you though, imagine how shocking it would be to find out your regular is a vigilante at night. it's like betrayal but in a different form. he usually doesn't care about revealing his identity to the people he knows, but when it came to you it's different. he's conscious for the first time, he was overthinking things and coming up with plans how to avoid it from happening in many ways possible so he stopped visiting the shop for a while. it's becoming weird, you two weren't even close to begin with— so why was he stressing so much about it?

while jason spent most of his nights in Gotham thinking about you, you started noticing his frequent visits slowly turned little to nothing at all. you found yourself always anticipating the sound of the bell when the doors open to each customer only to be met with disappointment when he didn't come through. and today seems to be the same, you kept glancing over the glass doors hoping you'd see a tall, slightly scary and muscular man enter...until he finally did.

you feel your heart skip a beat seeing him after a while, the same feeling you got a couple nights ago but you didn't mind. you quickly went over the cashier, mentally ready to take his order with a smile. "hey! welcome back, i didn't see you in here for a while" you greeted when he stopped right at the counter. jason wore a red hoodie and a brown leather jacket layering over it, he must've liked wearing that a lot. "oh...uh yeah," he brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck, trying to come up with something. "i got caught up in work. i didn't have the time to stop buy for coffee" that's a lie. "but i'm here now" is he really?

"oh, you must've been really busy then?" you added, listening to his reason. "definitely yeah," lies once again. jason sucked in a breath, looking away to get a glimpse of the menu like he really is getting anything else other than an americano and cookies. "got anything new f'me?" he asked which took you by surprise. "you're not getting the usual anymore?" you said. "eh well, it gets old after a while" he says.

"that's fair, well we got new cake flavors if you wanna try them out. what would you like?" you then tap a few things into the register to input his order to which he asks for a latte and dark chocolate cake. you tell him his total and he pays for it, giving him his change and receipt. jason mouths a thank you and quickly goes to sit on one of the chairs by the window where you can still see him right in the corner of your eye, you catch him glancing at your direction while you made his coffee which is strange since he never did that.

jason on the other hand seems to be more fidgety, he figured he'd tell you the truth today after you get off of work but it's easier said than done as he's starting to think it was a bad idea. his frequent visits gave him the advantage to eventually learn about your schedule and today happens to be an early leave. he mentally hyped himself up, hunched over the chair with his elbows resting on both his thighs while he waited.

a few minutes passed by and you eventually finished making everything, putting the small plate and fork on a plate along with his drink as you brought it over to his table. you slightly crouched down to carefully place the plate in front of him followed by the drink and fork, jason waited til you were done and looked up to you. he notices the cut still there on the side of your cheek, seemingly in the healing process now. he cleared his throat and nudged his head toward you. "you alright? you got a slit right there" he started.

"hm? oh this. it's uh, it's nothing. i almost got mugged a few nights ago and had to hold up a pretty decent fight" you explained, clutching the tray near to your chest. "oh? well, did you win at least?" jason laid back into the chair, still looking up towards you to see if you'll mention about the 'hero' that saved you. "i guess in some way yeah, someone showed up and kicked some ass within seconds" you said, a smile slowly forming at the thought of red hood creeping your mind once again. "it's a shame i didn't get his name though, he seems like a nice guy"

"...who did you think it was?" jason started, a lump in his throat started forming the more the conversation went on. he waited for an answer, desperate to know what you think and what could be the reason why you did all that during that night. "i have no clue, but he had a red helmet and a pretty sick suit! i'm not a fan of vigilante but that dude's doing it for me. i wanted to ask him out but he looks out of it, he might've been tired so i don't blame him" a slight blush creeped into jason's cheek when he felt it heat up at what you said, he found it amusing that you were practically talking about him while having no idea at the same time.

"that's..that's great" he nodded along, clearing his throat once more as he focused on the food in front of him then back to you. "i uh, i also wanted to ask" your ears perked up at this, pursing your lips into a thin smile. "what time are you...getting off?" he finally says even if he already knew the answer. you were taken back by this, your brows raising at the sudden question. "oh uhm, probably in an hour or so. i have an early leave today so it might be even less than that" you started. "why'd you ask?"

"i..." his voice trailed off, he doesn't seem to get the words out without it sounding like he's asking you out— well, technically he is. "nothing, just curious that's all" he gave a stiff smile as he reached for his fork. "oh okay well, i'll be at the counter if you need me" you said with a smile as you walked away before one of your managers yell at you again for making unneccessary small talk.

jason waited until you went back before releasing a disappointed sigh at himself, he sets down the fork and covered his face with both of his hands— feeling embarrassed at how stupid he sounds asking the question and completely fumbling it over. 'you just had to fuck it up, did you?' he thought to himself. he's never gonna get this over with.

a few minutes passed by and you see jason finishing up his snack, the small plate of cake now left with smudges of frosting and small bits of crumbs and the cup of coffee almost emptied out. you were relieved that he liked the new menu item after months of eating the same thing, it might be the start of something new for him you think. although his question from earlier never left your mind, you tried searching for answers and it all came down to him possibly asking you out.

but why would he? he's way out of your league and he probably knows it, why would he lower his standards to a café worker when he could have anyone out there to go on dates with. was he messing with you or is he trying to give signals? it could explain why he always visited your café and not the famous ones in the city but still, you didn't wanna assume. maybe he's just trying to be friends.

you didn't even realize that jason was already standing on the other side of the counter while you were lost in your thoughts doing the dishes, you heard him call out to you which snapped you out of it. you turn to look behind and see him there with a sheepish smile. you quickly closed the faucet and wiped your hands off as you went up to him, "hey! what's up?"

"nothing, i just wanted to say i'm gonna get going. i still have a few things to catch up on back home" "oh that's fine! goodluck with whatever you're up to then" you cheered him on aa he slightly chuckled, the sound of hearing his laughter for the first time did something to you and you didn't know what it was that made it so attractive. "thanks, i'll see you around" jason finally says with a thin smile.

you waved goodbye and went back to what you're doing as you're trying to shake off the lingering feeling that you just felt, "and y/n" you heard him call out to you again. "make good use of the spray, that's a special advisory" jason said proudly, making his way out of the shop before you could even process what he said

"thank you! I'll ma— wait..." then it finally registered. "WHAT?!"

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring Frat Boy!Sukuna and Virgin!Reader

A modern day college AU in which the reader is a young adult just now starting to shrug off their sheltered youth. And Sukuna is more than excited and willing to help lift that burden off your shoulders. Warning: this fic contains smut, loss of virginity, drinking, enemies to lovers, fingering, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, use of pet names and unprotected sex. Reader discretion is Advised ;p

Honestly, you really could not believe you dated this dunce. You remembered the break up like a trauma. Staring at his popcorn ceiling as he told you he simply couldn���t get past the fact you didn't want to sleep with him. He didn’t want to be with a prude. At the time, it crushed you. But now, as you sat at your desk, pouring red ink over every love letter he ever sent you, you couldn’t help but feel thankful you didn’t lose your virginity to him.

“What are you doing?” Your roommate asked as she walked into your shared dorm.

“Grading my ex’s love letters.” You said without looking away from your task. The awkward beat of silence that followed proved that she was not expecting that answer.

“Why?” She asked. You simply shrugged. To grieve, you guessed? 

“I felt the overwhelming need to correct his grammar.” You could hear her ask why again before she asked it. “I plan on sending them back.”

“You really need to get laid.” Your roommate laughed.

“He hasn’t gotten higher than a d on any of these.” You muttered, “A d Mei.”

“You need some D” Mei chuckled, going and sitting on her bed. “I could get you laid ya know.”

“I don't want to get laid.” You reminded her. That wasn’t quite true. You did want to get laid, you just wanted to do it on your own terms and you didn’t think that was a lot to ask for!

“Well do you wanna come to a party with me tonight?” Mei asked with a smug smirk. “Alpha Beta Omega house is hosting a party tonight, you should come! ABO has all the hottest guys ya know.” You did know, and while the thought was rather enticing, you were never really big on partying. You came to college to get your degree for fucks sake!

“I don’t know Mei,” you sighed, “I hate parties…”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun!” Mei tried to sell it. “Please! Don’t let me go alone, that would be a dick move, ya know?” She pouted, giving you the puppy dog eyes that roped you into every party you had been to since starting school. You sighed in irritation, knowing it was useless to keep fighting.

“I’ll think about it, okay?”

♥️♥️♥️

Ryomen had no fucking idea what he was thinking when he signed up for an 8 am class, but if he could kick his past self’s ass, he would. He didn’t think he had been on time for this class even once. He tried everything to wake himself up. Putting his phone on the other side of the room, sleeping with the curtains open, drinking vodka instead of whiskey, all of it was about as effective as putting dry socks on a drowning man. 

He walked into class already twenty minutes late. He felt all eyes fall on him, which was fair considering he had interrupted the lecture. He ignored it though, confidently and nonchalantly walking to the nearest empty chair. A chair that just so happened to be next to you. 

You felt your heart do level 11 gymnastics in your chest as the Ryomen Sukuna sat next to you. You hated how attracted you were to him. He was everything your parents had ever forbid you from going near. 6 '4 and nothing but a wall of muscle, you couldn’t help but feel like his face full of sharp tattoos just emphasized how soft his puppy-dog-eyes were. It made you want to run your fingers through his soft pink hair. 

Suddenly, your keyboard had become the most interesting thing in the world. Your eyes burned holes into your computer as you prayed that Ryomen wouldn’t look at you, or worse talk to you. You found him attractive, yea, but you also knew he was bad news. He was a member of the ABO fraternity and was known for being a womanizing piece of shit who often defaulted to calling you “woman” when he forgot your name. The man was a walking talking red flag factory and to desire him was to desire madness and hurt. You should want nothing to do with him.

And yet.

“Hey, do you have the notes?” Ryomen asked, looking at you from the corners of his eyes and ho-ly shit. Fuck whatever the fuck the professor was going on about, you now had his full attention. He fully turned to you, taking you all in. If Ryomen had to describe his dream woman, he would simply pull up a picture of you. A reluctant innocence clung to you, begging him to find the delinquent underneath it all. He didn’t know what he was thinking, signing up for an 8 am class, but he would kiss his past self if he could.

“Yea, for sure.” You muttered, biting your lip as you pulled up your email. He showed you his laptop so you could get his email straight from the source, and thanks to technology, he had the notes in seconds.

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” He smiled, showing his unusually sharp canines. You thought that you were done with this interaction, thankfully, but then he kept going. “So, are you going to the ABO party tonight?”  He asked. 

“I don’t know,” You shrugged, “Parties aren’t really my thing.” Of course, you probably spent most of your life sheltered, too scared to disappoint your parents to ever rebel. Ryomen wanted your rebellion more than he wanted to pass his finals. 

“You should go,” Ryomen whispered, “I bet you’d be really popular.”

“Yea, and by that you mean men would be drooling over how bad they want to fuck me, right?” You scoffed, forgetting yourself. He did in fact mean that by the way, but this response from you is not what he expected. You kept him on his toes. You intrigued him. “Now, just why do you think I’d want that?” You asked.

“So you’re worried about creepy dudes?” Ryomen asked, raising an eyebrow. “Alright then, Come with me then. Be my date.” He smiled that fang filled smile that was quickly burning its way into your heart.

“No.” You said plainly.

“Oh come on,” he damn near begged, “You get to go and have fun without the fear of creeps, because I’ll be protecting you, and I get to show up with a beautiful woman on my arm, it’s a win-win!” You weren’t sure when it happened, but class had ended and others were leaving.

“And just how do you plan to protect me from creepy guys when you are the creepy guy?” You challenged.

“By out creeping them.” Okay, even you had to admit that was funny. Ryomens smile widened as he realized he had gotten you to laugh. He won. 

“Ryomen, let’s go!” Someone called for him. Ryomen looked to the door and found his friends standing there waiting for him, Geto looking particularly annoyed. “We’re going to be late for class.” Geto said, annoyance dripping from him. 

He quickly scribbled down his number into his notebook, ripping the page and putting it on your computer. “Just think about it and call me, yea? I’m excited to take you.” He winked as he rushed to join his friends. 

You stared at the number for a few seconds after he left. You felt like the number was taunting you, yes, but also enticing you. It showed you a night of fun, excited passion that you had never experienced before but so desperately missed. It showed you a taste of freedom and rebellion. Doing something bad, knowing it was bad, and doing it anyway because it was so intoxicating. It showed you everything you wanted and more. 

You threw it in the trash on your way out the door.

♥️♥️♥️

You sighed as you stared at yourself in the mirror. The white tennis skirt Mei Mei had picked out was far shorter than you wanted, and the pink sweater was far tighter. You tried to put on a pair of stockings to compensate for the shortness of the skirt, but, all they did was accentuate your legs. You couldn’t believe Mei had convinced you to go to this stupid party. 

I mean, you could. It wasn’t hard, she offered to do your calculus homework for a week, you would have killed your mother to get out of having to do calculus for a week. But when you agreed to let her pick out the outfit, you had never expected—or prepared—to wear something so….

Sexy. That's the word you had been looking for, you looked sexy. You had never really dressed up before, sweatpants and t-shirts were typically your uniform. You were surprised at the way your body worked for you when you let it.

“Are you ready yet?!” Mei asked 

“Yea, I’m coming.” You said, finally pulling yourself away from the mirror and joining Mei by the door. She gave you another once over, smiling in satisfaction as she did. The outfit she’d picked out had really come together. 

“You look good,” She nodded. 

“Thanks,” You shrugged, trying to hide your slight embarrassment. You weren’t used to compliments. Mei nodded one last time before ushering you out the door. 

“Hey, Mei?” You asked as the two of you started the walk to the ABO Frat house. 

“What’s up Y/n?” She asked.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, right? Like, we’re actually gonna hang out and protect each other tonight?” Mei gave you the warmest, most reassuring smile you had ever seen.

“Of course Y/n. I won’t leave your side for even a second.”

♥️♥️♥️

You regretted every decision you had ever made in your life that led to you coming to this party. The music was way too loud, the drinks were way too strong (thanks Nanami), and the people were way too obnoxious. Mei had abandoned you almost the moment the two of you had walked in the door, making you realize you really needed to get better friends. It wouldn’t have been that bad, except some asshole that smelled like corpse had decided, against your will, he was taking you home tonight.

He wouldn’t leave you alone. You’d tried everything, complete disinterest, telling him you had a boyfriend, hell even telling him you were gay! Nothing would deter him. You even tried to go to the bathroom to try and lose him and he just fucking waited for you outside the bathroom door. This Mahito motherfucker was really starting to freak you out.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” The ragdoll yelled in your ear, sending a fog of rotten breath over your face. You didn’t hide the disgust you felt as you looked for an out— any—to get out of this situation. 

“What do you say you and I get outta here?” He asked. As he did, he put a singular hand on your waist. The moment he did, your head filled with sirens and screaming, every true crime podcast you had ever heard, willingly or not, replayed through your head and you were never more sure that this man had women tied up in his basement. Your adrenaline spiked as you looked for any way to get him to properly fuck off.

Ah-ha!

“Babe!” You yelled, all smiles and cheer as you ripped yourself away from Mahito and ran to Ryomen. Mahito followed, like the idiot he was, but this time you somehow knew you’d be fine. Ryomen looked confused at first, then noticed the corpse walking with you and it all clicked. He smiled back at you, more warmly than you ever expected, 

“Hey! Babygirl!” He called out, holding out his arm so you could bury yourself into his side. The girl he was talking to was very very confused, but decided to remove herself from the situation before she got caught up in any drama. Shout out to her.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you, where’ve you been?” He asked, leaning down and kissing your forehead to really sell it. You considered slapping him, but, figured that would break the illusion, so you settled for giggling instead. 

“I’ve been trying to get rid of this creep.” You said, your eyes darting from Mahito to Ryomen in a very Help Me way. Ryomen looked at Mahito and all of the warmth instantly left him. It sent chills up your spine to watch him go from joking smiles to cold stares. The light left his eyes as they narrowed and you were sure his features somehow got sharper. Or maybe that was the tattoos.

“Have you been fucking with my girl?” he asked. The emphasis he put on “mine” sent chills of a different kind through you. Oh, you liked that. You really liked that. You pressed your thighs together to try and take your mind off the feelings between them, and took a drink of your vodka redbull to try and cool down. It didn’t work. 

“Well, I- I mean, I-” 

“I-I-I.” Sukuna mocked, “You didn’t have any trouble talking to my girlfriend all night, why’re you having trouble now?” Danger radiated off of Sukuna like a match in a room full of methane, waiting to be lit. It was the kind of danger that drew you in, no matter how much you resisted. It felt inevitable. “Come on man, if you’re going to be a fucking creep you might as well say it with your chest.”

“I’m not a creep!” Mahito tried to argue.

“That's not what she said,” Ryomen said, holding you just a little bit tighter, sending sparks throughout your body again. “So what, you’re calling her a liar?”

“Well, no, I-”

“You say I alot.” Sukuna said, taking a sip of his drink to really show off his disinterest. “You know what I think?” He asked. “I think that you should get the fuck out and go the fuck home before I rip your larynx out of you via your asshole.” He threatened. It was such a ridiculous tough guy line that normally you would have laughed, but, somehow he sold it hook, line, and sinker. You could see that fact alone in the now bleached white face of Mahito. 

Sukuna looked into his cup, determining he was going to need a refill. “You have exactly 45 seconds to leave before I turn you into pie filling.” He said without looking at the smaller man. He finished his drink and looked back at him. “45, 44, 39-”

The count down did its job wonderfully. Mahitos ass was kicked into high gear. You could see in his eyes he was hearing the same sirens you were earlier as he ran to find the front door, desperate to get as far away from the monster that was holding you as soon as possible. You, on the other hand, were feeling the exact opposite effect. You wanted to be even closer to him than ever.

“So, why didn’t you call me?” Ryomen asked, looking down at you. Somehow, all the ice in his eyes had defrosted, leaving him with his warm puppy dog ones. You realized that you were in danger rather quickly and detangled yourself from his arm. 

“Oh, because I threw it away.” You smiled. The liquor you had been drinking was officially flowing through your veins, and quite frankly, you didn’t really care about decorum. Ryomen blinked at you, fully processing what you said.

“Why?” He asked. 

“Because, while you may not be a creep, Ryomen, you’re still a womanizing fuck boy that never had any real intention of starting a relationship with me. Am I right?” You asked, batting your pretty eyelashes at him. Ryomen couldn’t help but smirk. Damn, you really had him pegged, didn’t you? He was growing fonder and fonder of you by the minute. 

“You’re right.” He admitted, taking a step closer to you, “But, I gotta say, I respect you having the balls to say it to my face. Makes me think you might actually be worth getting to know.” Which was the closest Ryomen could ever get to saying ‘I find you at least intriguing and would actually be interested in a relationship.’ You just smirked at him and hummed. 

“But are you worth getting to know?” You asked. Before he could answer, Mei had suddenly returned from the astral plane, you fucking guessed. Of course she would be nowhere to be found when you needed her, but show up to ruin things right as they get interesting. 

“Y/n!” She laughed as she came downstairs, “We’re playing seven minutes in heaven upstairs, you gotta come play!” She said, giggling as she grabbed your arm.

“I can think of nothing more opposed to my soul.” You said plainly, taking your arm back. “Getting sweaty in a dark closet with a stranger? Sounds like hell.”

“Sounds pretty fun to me.” Ryomen said. It was a dangerous gamble, but if the cards were on his side he could just end up being the stranger getting sweaty with you in a dark closet. 

“You would, mega creep.” You scoffed, semi-jokingly.

“Come on Y/n, what's the worst that happens? You end up making awkward chit chat for seven minutes in a closet? Come on!” Mei groaned.

“If they make you uncomfortable, yell herpes and I’ll come kill them for you.” Sukuna offered. “Your safe word is herpes?” You questioned. 

“Can you think of anything that kills the mood faster than the thought of herpes?” Ryomen asked. Alright, fair enough Ryomen. 

“Come on Y/n, please come play? It’ll be fun!” Mei begged. You sighed, wondering when you planned to stop making bad decisions tonight.

“Okay, fine. I’ll play.” You groaned while both of your companions cheered. In a flurry, you were being whisked away up the stairs, both of them trying to get you in the game before you had a chance to back out. You were reminded once again that you hated college parties, walking into a smoke filled dorm room lit by led lights and adorned with a weed pride flag. 

“Love that you can tell what part of this room was decorated by Gojo and what was decorated by Geto.” Mei laughed as she led you to a group of young adults sitting in a circle. 

“Overhead lights are the devil!” Gojo yelled, throwing a chip into his mouth. A not at all shocking amount of people in the group of (Probably neurodiverse) stoners agreed with him in hums and cheers. You sat down next to him, Mei sitting on the other side of you and Ryomen  taking a free spot in the circle somewhere across from you. 

“Who’s in the closet now?” Sukuna asked. As if summoned by his question, Nanami and Shoko walked out of the closet, both of them on their phones. 

“Geto’s turn.” Shoko said. Mei scoffed at them both.

“Weren't you making drinks, Nanami?” Mei asked as Geto spun the bottle.

“I was..” Nanami assured her, “I got bored.” The bottle landed on Gojo, and everyone let out childish woos and whistles. Geto and Gojo both grinned like fools as they rushed to the closet, the two of them always excited to feel each other up. Honestly their participation in this game took you a bit by surprise. What if one member of the couple didn’t get the other?

“God they need to just get together already.” Ryomen muttered, rolling his eyes. What?! They weren't together?! Before you could express your shock, a very loud, very breathy moan left the closet door, filling you with second hand embarrassment for the two. The rest of the crowd ate that shit up though, shouting encouragement and wolf whistling. Even Ryomen was laughing with the crowd when he caught your eyes.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What? Voyeurism not your thing?”

You looked at him in annoyance. “Why would it be anyone's thing?”

He shrugged in response. “Performance is performance. People will do anything for attention.”

You raised an eyebrow at him now. “Would you do anything for attention?”

He smirked at you. “I’d do anything for your attention.”

Your silent conversation was interrupted by another loud moan, this time courtesy of Geto, and the crowd went wild again, shouting vulgarities at them. You began to wonder if this was typical of them, or if they were— as Ryomen suggested— putting on a performance. You got your answer as the timer rang, marking their seven minutes as up. They exited the closet with a flourish, bowing for the crowd and showing off their messed up clothes and hair. Was this the appeal of seven minutes in heaven? You didn’t understand party games.

“Alright Ryo, your go.” Geto laughed, giving fistbumps and highfives while he sat down. Ryomen rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me that, Gene Simmons” He growled at him, before giving you one last look and spinning the bottle. You were mildly curious to see where the bottle would land, already feeling bad for whatever poor schmuck that got locked in a closet with him. 

And then the bottle landed on you. Cheers and hollars surrounded and pounded in your ears. Your body was in super-hyper-defense mode which…was really just an oncoming panic attack. Of all the people you imagined being shoved in a closet with, Ryomen Sukuna had never crossed your mind. You were going to be in a small, confined space with him, all alone, where you’re literally expected to at least make out. You were electrified back to life as a hand fell in front of your face.

You looked up and saw the hand was attached to the grinning face of Ryomen, fireworks exploding behind his eyes. “You coming baby girl?” He asked with a wink. You didn’t have to. You could have turned tail and run away, out of the party and back to your dorm. That was actually what you probably should do, it was the safe option! The one that would make your mother proud. 

You took his hand, sending the crowd into yet another tizzy. But this time, you heard none of it, your mind focused entirely on Ryomen. He squeezed your hand reassuringly as he led you to the closet and smiled almost comfortingly. You didn’t know his smile could be comforting, thanks to the fangs, but it was. All of it felt very…off, coming from Ryomen, probably the least comforting person at your school.

He pulled you into the closet, pulling you close to his chest as he pulled the door closed. A lot of pulling was going on. You braced yourself for war, for him to kiss you. You closed your eyes tight, feeling your entire body tense but…nothing came. He didn’t kiss you. In fact, he let go of you. You opened your eyes just to see him leaning against the wall of the closet, staring at you with his hands in his pockets.

“You…didn’t kiss me?” You questioned, just for him to raise an eyebrow in confusion.

“No? You didn’t want me to.” You weren’t sure why, but that assertion upset you. How dare he claim to know what you wanted?! You didn’t even know what you wanted!

“You don’t know that.” you scoffed, causing him to laugh.

“Oh please,” He shriveled into what (You hoped) as an overly dramatized rendition of your body language from seconds before, “Doesn’t necessarily scream ‘Kiss Me’.” He chuckled to himself, shaking his head. You crossed your arms, but, you knew he was right.

“It’s just…I’ve never done this before.” You tried to explain. 

“You’ve never been kissed?” He seemed genuinely shocked.

“No, dipshit, I’ve kissed people before! I’ve just never played seven minutes in heaven.”

“Oh, yea I could kinda tell,” He admitted with a shrug, “You scream sheltered kid. I bet even now, as a grown ass adult you’re still too scared to rebel against mommy.” The way he said “mommy” struck you. It was soaked in condescension and mockery. You hated that he was right. You hated that despite the fact you were fully grown getting a college degree, you still heard your mothers voice in the back of your head every time you wanted to do something even a little bit rebellious. You were willing to bet no one else had that! You bet Ryomen didn’t have that.

“I am not!” you lied to him.

“Oh yea?” He challenged.

“Yea!” You asserted.

“Then prove it. Kiss me.” he said. Ryomens eyes burned into yours as he stepped forward, slowly closing the already small gap between you. His presence was intense and all consuming and hot. You could feel him burning you away from the inside out, as if he was a raging inferno and you were just a piece of tissue paper caught in his wake. He had a smirk that just screamed I know I just won and it drove you crazy because he was right! He was either right or he got the kiss you knew he’d been chasing all night. Well fuck it. There was only one way for you to win here too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Ryomen didn’t skip a beat, pulling you even closer to him and pushing you against the wall, the soft thud sending the drunken crowd outside the door into hysterics. Your fingers tangled in his hair and his hands slid up your shirt to grab your bare skin. He bit your lip, making you gasp and giving him room to deepen the kiss.

Your head was spinning with excitement and panic, your breathing becoming harsher by the minute as he moved to kiss your neck. Your ex had never kissed you like this before. So desperate to have you, as if you were the most desirable being on the planet. It excited you, electrocuting your nervous system with every touch, pull, or bite. Despite your better judgment, a moan escaped you, sending the drunken crowd outside the closet into another bout of hysterics.

Your body reacted to him in ways that it had reacted to nobody else before, you needed him. He grabbed one of your thighs and rested it on his hip, his hand sliding under the hem of your skirt.

“Ryomen..” You moaned out, soft enough not to feed the masses.

“Say it again.” He purred.

“Ryomen.”

“That's seven!” Gojo called, pounding on the closet door, startling both you and Ryomen. He pulled away just in time for Gojo to pull the door open, a smug smirk plastered on his face. “You two love birds have fun?” He teased. Sukuna rolled his eyes, his annoyance with being interrupted evident.

“Not as much fun as you and your boy toy.” He scoffed, grabbing your hand and pulling you from the closet. The crowd of drunken young adults had grown, meaning the crowd of people wolf whistling and cheering (jeering?) had grown. Embarrassment exploded from your chest. What the hell were you thinking?! Kissing Ryomen?! You silently scolded yourself.

You didn’t even fully process that he had dragged you from the dormroom until you were in a new one, this one seemingly vacuumed sealed away from the party. The art on the wall queued you into the fact that this was probably the room Ryomen and Nanami shared. 

“Ryo?” You asked as he pulled you into the room and locked the door behind him.

“Nicknames now huh?” He chuckled, “That's cute.”

He locked the door. He locked the door. You may have been a sheltered kid, but you weren’t dumb. You knew what a locked door met at a frat party. The realization sparked your nervous system into high gear and you felt the need to press your thighs together again.

“I’ve never done this before.” You told him quickly.

“What, sex on a first date?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. You’d…hardly call this a fucking date, but that was an issue for later.

“No, sex.” You told him. He actually backed away.

“Really?” He asked, more shocked than you would have liked. “Hey, look we don’t have to-”

“I know we don’t.” You cut him off. “I want to.” He smirked almost proudly as he closed the gap between the two of you once again.

“I knew I liked you.” He purred. Before you had a chance to ask what that meant, his lips had crashed into yours, pulling you into another heated kiss. It was like the two of you physically couldn't get enough of each other, like you’d simply stop breathing if you weren’t kissing. It sent your head into a heated flurry, making you feel light. He pressed you into the bed, wrapping one of your legs around his hips as his hand slipped underneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the now translucent spot in your underwear. 

Another moan escaped you, sounding far more desperate than you would have liked. “Needy, are we?” Ryomen chuckled, pushing your panties to the side and running two fingers up and down your slit, collecting the sticky lube. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your body felt flushed with hellfire and you couldn't help but wonder if he was this cocky with every girl he brought to his bed.

“Yea,” You moaned through a heavy breath, “You gonna take care of it, or whaa-” Your quip died in your throat as he buried two fingers into your weeping pussy, up to the knuckle without even a warning.

“What was that doll?” He teased, curling his fingers up to perfectly hit your g-spot and send you astral projecting into the ninth dimension. Was this what you were missing out on? Your hands fell to his shoulders, clinging to him for dear life as he curled his fingers again. This was a completely new type of pleasure for you, one you couldn’t get from your own fingers or a toy. You were hooked on it, you needed more of it. You started grinding down on his hand, chasing the high he was more than obliged to give you. 

“Feel good?” He purred. You nodded helplessly, your brain too mushy to make words. “Want to feel even better?” His smirk was wicked. You didn’t have time to process it though, or even answer the question before he removed your panties and ducked his head under your skirt, his lips quickly finding your clit. The new sensation was your tipping point. The fire in your veins overtook you, your head felt like it was made of cotton, and the tension that had been growing in you was reaching a breaking point.

“R-ryo,” You panted desperately, “I-its too much, I-” Your pleas for mercy are cut off as he slips another finger into you, shooting sharp tendrils of pleasure throughout your body, finding every last inch of you. Your brain was mush and your nerves on high alert, feeling every single one of the pink haired man's movements.

Your entire body felt tense as heat continued to pool in hot waves in your stomach, every curl of his fingers, every swipe of his tongue bringing you one step closer to the brink. You had never wanted anything so bad in your life. Your hands tangled in his hair, subconsciously pulling him closer to your needy cunt. Ryomen very much obliged, giving you everything you wanted and more.

“I-I, ah-!” all of the intense feelings were building into a crescendo inside of you, your small boat in the ocean of oxytocin and euphoria was capsizing. All at once your body seized, you thought you whined out his name but you weren’t sure. Pleasure came rolling over your entire body in seething waves, filling all of your senses and leaving you shaking like a chihuahua. 

“You're beautiful when you cum.” Had to be one of the weirdest compliments you had ever received. You lifted your head off the bed to see Ryomen wiping his mouth off. He stood up, taking off his shirt, and holy shit. You don’t know why the thought never occurred to you that the tattoos would be on his chest too. They covered his face, they were on his arms and wrists, why wouldn’t they be on his chest? It made you wonder where else they were.

“Enjoying the view?” He asked, knowing full and well you were. You looked away in embarrassment, just to feel him grab the hem of your sweater. “I showed you mine, let me see yours” He teased, pulling the pink top off of you. His reaction gave you your confidence back plus some. You felt emboldened by the way he beheld you, like you were Venus herself. You smirked as you took off your bra, exposing your chest to him.  

“Enjoying the view?” You asked. 

“Very much so.” he said in a rush before his eager, hot mouth wrapped around your right nipple, his hand coming up to play with the left. You had never imagined having your tits played with would feel so good. Maybe it was just the effect Ryomen had on you. But his actions left you whimpering softly under him, unconsciously bucking your hips to make some friction. He noticed the command he had over your body, the way you melted into him. He knew you were his, he just had to seal the deal. 

He pulled away, undoing his belt and jean buttons to free his cock. You bucked your hips at the view again, feeling your cunt clench around nothing. He was bigger than you expected, thick and long. You’d probably have been a little bit intimidated if you weren’t so desperate to feel that high again. He fisted himself with one hand and clumsily rubbed your sensitive nub with the other. But it wasn’t enough anymore, you needed him. 

“Ryo, please..”

“Please what Y/n?” He smirked. He knew exactly what you wanted. But, he wasn’t going to give it to you that easily.

“Ryomen, please, I need you.” You whined, not wanting to say it outloud.

“I’m right here baby girl, what do you need?” His grin was wicked and still full of mirth. You were starting to hate him again.

“Ryomen please, I need your cock, I need you, I need you to fuck me.” You blurted out all at once, your mouth moving faster than your mind did. His grin turned into a full on smile.

“Well, then why didn’t you just say that?” He laughed as he lined himself up with your soaking cunt.

“I di-AHH!” You screamed as he pushed his fat cock into you, the collision with your cervix jolting you into a state of hypersensitivity. You clung onto him desperately, your cunt clamping down around him, trying to push him out and pull him deeper all at the same time. You felt helplessly stretched out underneath him, your mind trying to find your body.

“Relax for me baby,” Ryomen moaned into your neck, kissing it softly. Easy for him to say! He wasn’t just impaled! You took deep, jagged breaths, to try and reregulate your fried nervous system. You took in the smell of pine and cigarettes, the almost comforting feeling of his body flush with yours, and the near tenderness of the kisses he was trailing along your neck. It was a beautiful caricature of intimacy, really.

Finally, you had relaxed enough around him for him to move. And move he did. To his credit, he tried to take it slow. He tried to be considerate of your virgin status (well…former virgin status) and not hurt you. But, Ryomen was not the slow gentle, “making love” type and before he knew it, he was chasing his high with a ferocity that left you weak under him. 

You weren’t complaining though. His thrusts were intoxicating, the curve of his dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust of his hips. He was stretching you to the point of delirium, feeling a rush of ecstasy every time he moved inside of your velvety walls. Your head was in heaven and your soul was in hell. Everything was all at once too hot and too cold, overwhelming. The waves of euphoria were building up inside of you again, a string tangling over itself again and again until it was taunt. 

One of his hands moved to massage at your clit again, coaxing your climax out of you with every stroke. You were speeding at 160 miles per hour off of a cliff and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Your mind was filled with nothing but Ryomen Ryomen Ryomen as electricity and pleasure coarse through your body. It felt like you were an electrical fire underneath him, no longer just tissue paper but an inferno in your own right.

“Ryomen, I’m-!”

“I know.” He said as he continued to chase both of your highs. The way your cunt clenched around him, pulling him back in with every thrust told him everything he needed to know. “Cum for me.”

Your body was under his command whether you liked it or not. You came undone around his cock, the string finally snapping as you drove off the cliff with no hesitation, and into your grave and erotic bliss, pleasure overtaking your body in waves. Your entire body shook under him as the intensity of your climax overcame you. He wasn’t far behind with the way your velvety walls were clenching around him, pulling his own orgasm from him. He came deep into your cervix, overflowing you and making you pray you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences later.

You both stilled for a moment in the afterglow. As he pulled out and managed to collapse next to you, not on top of you. What did you do now? You could still hear the party raging outside of the door, but the last thing you wanted to do was rejoin it. You looked over at Ryomen, still trying to regulate his breath next to you.

You moved yourself to rest your head on his chest, figuring that was what couples do in movies after sex, right? For a second, you thought he was going to push you off. But, he didn’t. Quite the opposite really, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer. 

“Sooo,” He said, finally breaking the silence, “Do you want my number again?”

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・Part 2 Out Now! ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

[bowtiepastabitch]

Deeply Transgender and Vividly Pornographic: a deep dive into what makes a fic queer

This is a response to the wonderful @ineffabildaddy making this post, which it was originally going to just be a reblog to but once I started approaching a thousand words it was a bit unwieldy so we're just going all the way. If second base is reading their fics and third base is actually talking to your mutuals, I have no clue what this is.

Here's the prompt text that started it all:

Alright, well I am nothing if not a scientist (narrator voice: they were, in fact, a humanities major), so I spent several hours of my weekend putting this together because I'm a burnt out academic and this is the enrichment in my enclosure. Readers, this is going to contain experpts of some very spicy stuff, so stop here if you're not interested. Me bringing porn? To your tumblr dash? It's more likely than you think.

All fics and such referenced will be linked at the bottom of the page.

~~~

Heteronormativity and cisnormativity, while unfortunately the dominant norm for mainstream pornography, make little appearance within the fandom writing spaces I myself spend time in. That's not to say I haven't read my fair shair of painfully straight smut in my lifetime, but simply that I have taste and am lucky to be neck deep in a fandom with very little of it. Nonetheless, as a card-carrying queer and writer myself, I consider myself quite familiar with the distinctive traits and patterns of queer and cishet pornographic writing. Beyond merely a focus on non-male pleasure or the subtle presence of queer or trans characters, the characterization of queer fanfiction is distinct and has entirely different mannerisms in dealing with conceptions of the body and pleasure. I'll primarily be citing Ineffabildaddy's work, for the sake of a focused analysis, who I will henceforth be referring to as Sam for the sake of pseudo-academic flow.

There are certain linguistic patterns that tend to distinguish heterosexual and heteronormative depictions of sex from queer ones. For instance, "cunt" is utilized sparingly within heteronormative contexts for its vulgarity and added obscenity, whilst queer writers use it pretty universally and without the same subtext. Throughout his writing, Sam works with this queer-coded vocabulary pretty consistently. In "Strawberry Scripture" (F/M), he describes how "Crowley's cunt... was damn-near swollen" and how Aziraphale has to resist "Bury[ing] his face in it immediately." No cis-het man has ever thought about eating pussy that way, and if you find one I'll eat my fucking hat. Likewise, vocabulary for the phallic tends to veer in the direction of "cock" over anything else. Interestingly, this creates a set of contrasting pairings. Heteronormative slang, from my obvervation, is more likely to use 'dick' and 'pussy', and, especially in conjunction, it creates a very distinctive mouthfeel that separates the two and poses them as opposites. 'Pussy', in particular, has a much more feminized feel when juxtaposed against 'dick', favoring much softer consonants and the english diminutive 'y' ending. 'Cock' and 'cunt', in comparison, have a very similar sound and feeling to them, distancing itself from hetero-cis-normative gender dualism of the language. There is, of course, plenty of nuance to this and the use of a variety of language in subverting cisnormative ideas about the sexed body as well, with phrases like 'boypussy' and 'girldick' being rather essential to the way many trans people describe their own bodies. "Fandom's Pornagraphic Subset," (yes I'm stealing sources from my research paper on monsterfucking, suck my dick) an article published in 2021 by Silja Kukka, describes how the "fleshy, hyperbolic descriptions of sex" that characterize this kind of writing are essential to what she dubs the "[creation of] a new genderqueer place outside of the gender dichotomy"(57). If you read enough smut, you know exactly what this is talking about. For example, in "Despite Knowing Better,"(F/M) we get vivid imagery to describe the way "streaks of her spit oozed from her mouth even as Aziraphale fucked it"(Ch5) and of "her walls quivering and clenching around him."(Ch3) This level of graphic sexual depiction goes beyond what would be considered 'tasteful' or 'sexy' in a heteronormative concept of pornography.

In terms of tropes, let's do a deep dive into "Strawberry Scripture"(F/M) to find what makes it queer beyond it's apparently straight pairing. To preface, this fic involves both foodplay and monsterfucking, but we're only gonna analyze one. The inherent queerness of monsterfucking is actually something I've written an entire academic paper on, so I suppose I'll start there. There's something very queer and often very trans about subverting the standard playbook of sexual acts, and while kink itself can easily be heterosexual, most monsterfucking falls far outside that category no matter what genital configuration those involved have. Monsterfucking tends to reject the phallocentrism of heteronormativity and mainstream kink by subverting the concept of the human body itself, giving inhuman and monstrous qualities to characters usually for sex appeal or general kinky shenanigans. While there's an argument to be made for heteronormativity still being able to creep into certain spaces, that certainly isn't true for this fic. There's something intrinsically transgressive about creating an erogenous zone out of a feature that would largely be considered horror or 'gross' in any other form of media, which is exactly what Sam does here as he describes the "cool, satiny sensation that the plates of her scales against his tip engendered." The scales are not merely called apon for their invocation of the unusual but to give them an eroticism in and of themselves, with Crowley reaching orgasm through their stimulation. We also slide gently into Monsterfucker territory in "Close (well you couldn't get much closer)" (M/M), where an argument could be made that the most trans-coded element isn't even Crowley's T-dick but instead the presence of a magic angel dildo. (sentences I never thought I'd fucking say but here we are.) There's something deeply transgender about the deconstruction of genital purpose in sex that recontextualizes the gendered body's role in pleasure. It falls into the same semiotic revolution and reclaiming of the body as the changes in language used by trans folks to rename and reidentify the literal physicality of the body by ones own standards (ie T-dick).

Another major trademark in departing from heteronormatized porn is the shift in narrative focus away from penetrative sex. That is, even in paragraphs where the main sex event is penetration, it rarely takes up even half the prose. The majority of narration is focused on surrounding or tangential actions: "the flowing movement of ... hips was sedate and wanton and lusciously provocative,"(1) "watching the muscles which resided there tense and relax alternately with pleasure,"(2) "his tongue stole past his teeth and slid over them,"(3) and "he whispered, his voice aching and curling and stretching for her"(4); all excerpts pulled from moments in which penetration is taking place, yet the concentration is anywhere but. Likewise, the act of penetration itself only takes up a small portion of physical sex acts in the grander scheme of Sam's writing. Instead, we as readers are presented with a vast spread of cock-sucking, pussy-eating, fingering, teasing, frottage, kissing, and more. Contrast this with the cis-hetero norm, where penetrative sex is the endgoal, and any other action is shucked aside to play second fiddle as mere foreplay. It's the reason virginity as a concept is directly tied to the mystical hymen and one's experience with penetration; a straight girl can suck dick a thousand times and still consider herself a virgin. As such, in a piece of pornographic writing where I have significant trouble finding lines to pull specifically and exclusively describing penetration (seriously, try it out yourself), the heterosexual influence is negligible. And yes, I'm talking about all of them. I had to restructure an entire argument that focused on comparing lines from different works because it was so difficult to find them.

So, in conclusion, Sam, love, there is not an ounce of heteronormativity in even the "straightest" of your writing. Congratulations.

Links, in order of reference:

Strawberry Scripture (3)

Fandom's Pornographic Subset, article by Silja Kukka and a great read

Despite Knowing Better... (4)

Close (you couldn't be much closer)

Many Different Ways to Eat an Oyster (1)

I'm Beginning to See the Light (2)

Author's notes, and then I promise I'll leave y'all alone: Hi! This started as a short analysis but quickly became a three(?)(maybe more?) hour labor of love analyzing the things I love most about both Sam's writing and the writing in this community as a whole. Please please please ask me questions, I'm an autistic little bitch and I like knowing things. My ask box? Open. Comments? Open. Reblogs? Open. If you've read this far, I fucking love you and I am kissing you on the mouth right now. Don't worry, my gender is just queer so it's gay no matter what. <3<3<3

[ellecdc]

Okok can i overstay your house party by asking for one more???

♧ here for the drinks:

I actually dreamt about this, it was so funny

so basically one of the black brothers is injured and the shy and soft reader is trying to help but she faints when she sees blood😭😭 so then the poor injured guy has to help her and be like bitch no it's my turn to pass out

but also kinda hot coz he's assertive and telling her stay tf awake

i've always loved your comedic fics

it's a weird one but I hope u like it, if not that's okay!!! love u and congratulations once again🩷🩷🩷

-🩷

pink heart emoji, I am almost upset with you that you sent such a funny and cute request as a head canon blurb!!! this would make such a cute fic!! but, since I'm working slowly on fics rn and idk when I'd get to it, here's your head canons <3 also, I'm going with Regulus for this simply because I think it'd be funny to see him be soft/stern

you walk into (what was supposed to be) an empty herbology classroom to find Regulus crumpled over a desk

you make a startled sound, causing him to look over at you though he doesn't straighten up his posture

"Oh, erm, I- I'm sorry...I can...come back later if you're using the room?" he shakes his head quickly at you and looks back down at his lap

"No..you're fine just...mind the cabbages" he says, voice taught as you spot the Chinese Chomping Cabbages rolling their ways back towards their bed of soil

"Are you alright?" you ask cautiously, deigning to head towards him, he makes a grimacing sound

"they got me...the cabbage, that is, I'll be fine but I should probably get to the healer"

when you finally make it to Regulus' workbench, you see why he needs to go to a healer. "oh...oh! oh, uhm, huh, uhm, okay." you sputter, swallowing around your gag reflex and trying to stay upright, leaning your weight heavily on the workbench as your vision starts to blur

"Do you mind passing me my scarf?" he asks, motioning to it with his head as he applies pressure to the wound with the hand of his uninjured arm

you do mind, but you can't very well say that, so you do as asked and hand it to him not without your arm violently shaking

"you alright?" he asks you slowly, making a surprised sound when you sway slightly on your feet "Merlin, y/n, what's your problem?"

you try to mumble something to the effect of "shit I'm sorry" but you're not sure how effective you were when it feels like your mouth is filling with cotton

"oh for Salazar's sake" Regulus mutters, quickly tying his scarf around his arm tightly twice before reaching for his wand and vanishing the blood as best he can, though his white uniform shirt is a lost cause

"okay, we're both going to the infirmary, but you have to stay awake y/n, can you do that?", you think you say yes, but he asks you again. "can you stay awake for me?"

you nod your head because yes you would do that for him, but it was a mistake as you nearly land on your knees, only upright thanks to Regulus' good arm circling around your waist

"Nope. none of that. hey-" he heaves you up further so he can support your weight "no fainting, if anyone's going to faint, it should be me, yeah? come on, stay awake for me"

and for the love of all the gods you do your damned best, keeping your eyes shut and pretending you can't smell the blood on Regulus' person until you make it to the infirmary where he sets you gingerly against a bed, but as you open your eyes and catch sight of him again, you fall unconscious

you wake up to Regulus sitting at your bedside - a fresh jumper sans blood over him and the end of a bandage you can see near his wrist, and he's smirking at you

"why're you still here if you're all fixed up?" you grumble as you sit yourself up, and that only seems to cause his smile to grow. "it'd be terribly rude of me not to thank the person who got me to the infirmary, no?" - "you practically had to drag me here" you argue, only for him to shrug his shoulders. "semantics, anyways, I figured I better walk you to your common room too, you know, just in case"

well didn't he just about walk you everywhere in the castle from that moment forward <3

[shitsndgiggs]

Hi! I love your work and wanted to ask if you could write a fanfic about Kenan where he and reader have a kid together but they broke up.

Kenan is still obsessed with reader and literally never leaves her alone.

You can decide how their relationship goes whether they get back together or not.

A/N: I made the request into a part two of this fic, since some of you wanted it.

Part 1

SHADOWS OF THE PAST (Part 2) - KENAN YILDIZ

In which Kenan tries to win you back

Kenan Yildiz x co-parent! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

Seeing Kenan at my doorstep again was becoming a frustratingly familiar sight. I sighed, trying to keep my composure as I opened the door.

Our son, Emre, peeked out from behind me, his eyes lighting up at the sight of his father.

"Daddy!" Emre shouted, running to Kenan.

"Hey, champ!" Kenan scooped Emre up into his arms, his face breaking into a wide smile. My heart clenched at the sight—Kenan was always such a good father, even if we couldn’t make our relationship work.

"Kenan, what are you doing here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

"I wanted to see Emre," he said, his eyes locking onto mine with that familiar intensity. "And you."

I crossed my arms, leaning against the doorframe. "We've talked about this. You can’t just show up unannounced."

Kenan set Emre down gently, ruffling his hair. "Go play with your toys for a bit, buddy. Daddy needs to talk to Mommy."

Emre nodded and ran off to the living room, leaving the two of us alone on the porch.

Kenan stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. "I miss you," he said, his voice low and earnest.

"Kenan, we’ve been over this," I said, my voice tinged with frustration. "You can't keep doing this. We broke up for a reason."

He reached out, his hand brushing against my arm. "I know I messed up. But I can't stop thinking about you. About us."

I stepped back, putting some distance between us. "This isn’t healthy. For either of us. You need to move on."

"Move on?" he scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "How am I supposed to move on when you’re the love of my life?"

My heart ached at his words, but I steeled myself. "We need boundaries, Kenan. For Emre's sake. We can't keep confusing him like this."

Kenan's face fell, and he nodded reluctantly. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's just... hard."

"I know it is," I said softly. "But we need to do what's best for Emre. He needs stability."

Kenan sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Can we at least try to be friends? For him?"

I hesitated, then nodded. "Friends. For Emre."

As the days passed, Kenan made a genuine effort to respect my boundaries. He called before coming over, kept our conversations light, and focused on Emre. It was a start, but I could see the longing in his eyes every time he looked at me.

One evening, after putting Emre to bed, I found Kenan still lingering in the living room. "You should go," I said gently. "It's getting late."

He looked up, his eyes filled with sorrow. "Do you ever think about us? About what we had?"

I sighed, sitting down across from him. "Of course I do. But we can't go back, Kenan. Too much has happened."

"What if we tried again?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "For real this time. No games, no lies."

I looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "I don't know if I can trust you again. Not after everything."

"I'll earn it," he said, reaching out to take my hand. "I'll do whatever it takes."

I pulled my hand away, standing up. "This isn't something you can just fix overnight. It takes time."

"I have time," he said, standing up to face me. "And I'll wait as long as it takes."

Weeks turned into months, and Kenan kept his word. He was patient, respectful, and genuinely tried to rebuild our relationship. Slowly, I found myself opening up to him again.

One evening, as we sat on the porch watching Emre play in the yard, Kenan turned to me. "I love you," he said simply.

I looked at him, my heart racing. "I know."

"And?" he prompted, a hopeful smile tugging at his lips.

I took a deep breath, then nodded. "I love you too."

Kenan's smile widened, and he pulled me into his arms. "Thank you for giving me another chance."

I hugged him tightly, feeling the warmth of his embrace. "Don't mess it up."

He laughed softly, kissing the top of my head. "I won't. I promise."

[sentoooo]

ɢᴜɪᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ ⨟ ᴋᴇɴꜱʜɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴀʜᴀꜱʜɪ x ꜰᴛᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴄᴀɢᴇ ⨟ 18+

DID I SAY SATURDAY..... NAH NAH I SAID SUNDAY FS........ neways, hope you're reading, kenshi's arms anon. thank you for the idea. seriously. this has all ive ever been able to think about since then. i think you're more suited for writing then i am. might've gone overboard, just maybe. enjoy ;)

shout out to britney spears tho. saved my fuckin ass. couldnt focus, couldnt write anything. played baby one more time for like 3 hours. finished the fic. done. there could be a part two..... hm?

cw: NSFW, ftm reader, afab, he/him pronouns used, threesome, implied first time (with both), implied previous relationship w/ johnny before meeting kenshi, body worship, oral (bottom receiving ((YOU)), fingering, slight praise, porn with absolutely no plot, teasing, voyeurism?? within a private space, proofread wc: 3620 MINORS DNI

It was straight to the point. All Johnny needed to hear was that you consented, and he had set the scene. He was eager. Too eager. But damn, he'd be lying if he says he wasn't nervous. Which is odd! A man like him? Nervous? He's been through scenarios like this, threesomes, foursomes, orgies, damn, he's had it all. Yet, you and Kenshi... it's different. So different. The way you two spark butterflies within his stomach simply by being there, it's a different kind of love than anything he's felt before. It's so pure, intentional, passionate, and soft. Just thinking of either of you has his cheeks red.

Now, Johnny lurks behind you and Kenshi. You sit across from the swordsman, hands planted on your knees. As close as Kenshi wanted you to be, he refused to have you in his lap. He wanted to give Johnny ample room to include himself, even if the man had insisted on just watching. Both of you knew from the start he wouldn't. He can't even keep still now. In front of you, Kenshi seems calm, a light blush tints his cheeks. It is his first, and as such, he is nervous.

"Come on," Johnny groans, leaning over Kenshi's shoulder and place his hands on the man's arms. Kenshi furrows his eyebrows at this, leaning towards you ever so slightly. Yet, he did not give in to Johnny's urgency. Kenshi was going to go by his own pace regardless, for your sake and his. Johnny could be patient. "Pleeeeaaaase..." Johnny whines once more, trying to move Kenshi's hands for him.

Yet, Kenshi is still. He does not move his hands. He does not swat Johnny away. He can feel Johnny's excitement, he can almost hear Johnny begging and pleading at the very edge of his mind. However, he is more concerned about you. "Are you ready?" Kenshi prompts, his tone even.

You hesitate- only for a second. It is not a wild idea, nor is it wildly lewd. "Yes," At your consent, Johnny lets out a sigh of relief, and Kenshi seems to relax.

"Alright, Ken-Doll," Johnny leans in closer to Kenshi's ear, a smirk lingering in his voice. He wrapped his hands around Kenshi's forearms, the swordsman relenting and letting Johnny guide his arms. Johnny's hands snake up to Kenshi's wrist, as he leans forwards and urges the man to get closer to you. "Just..." Johnny's voice is already breathy, as he places Kenshi's hands on your waist. "Like this." Somehow, it was surprising that Johnny didn't start... higher.

Kenshi scoffed, tilting his head towards Johnny. "Really?" While his hands were comfortable, even Kenshi had been expecting something more scandalous from Johnny. His tone was sarcastic, causing you to laugh a little.

"Hey! Where else am I supposed to start?" Johnny pouted, squeezing Kenshi's wrists. Kenshi sighs, and lets the actor have his moment. "Alright, alright, I'll get to the damn point." Johnny speaks as if he wasn't just begging you two to start, shaking his head. His eyes meet yours, asking the same question Kenshi had before. You nod, and lean into Kenshi's hands. With this, Johnny leads Kenshi's hands up under your shirt, just under your breasts. Not quite there. He's got a sly smile on his face, as if he's in it to tease you. Johnny understands just what your body needs, and while he's confident in Kenshi's ability to make you writhe in pleasure. However, Kenshi wasn't so... intimate with your body like Johnny was. Not that he couldn't be.

Kenshi's fingers trace over your ribs, his touch gentle, almost as if he was afraid to hurt you. Your body shudders at the touch, a pleasant feeling sparking from his hands. Johnny smiles at this, his hands lingering on Kenshi's wrists, trailing down to his forearms, and finally letting go. Johnny gave Kenshi a quick peck on the cheek, before finally retreating to the chair he had pulled up next to the bed. His arousal was already clear, it seems the mention of something like this was enough to get him hard. Yet, he was being patient. Or trying to be, anyways. Johnny kept his hands clasped together, as if to prevent himself from touching himself. In fact, his knuckles were turning white.

Before you could comment, Kenshi brought his thumbs up to your sternum, lightly cupping your breasts. Your breath hitched, just slightly, as he slowly massaged them. He was uncannily attentive, his fingers tracing underneath your nipple. He seemed to enjoy how you waited for him, to take advantage of this opportunity. "Yeah, there you go," Johnny instructed, his impatience finally taking place in his voice. "He likes that, y'know?" Johnny was studying you, looking for any more signs of pleasure. His leg bounced, almost growing irritable. "Don't keep him waiting."

You could see Kenshi smirk, leaning in closer to you. He kept you on edge, caressing your boobs, but not quite touching your nipples. The teasing was almost getting to you. And Johnny, too. "Really, now?" Kenshi's voice was full of mischief, tilting his head back to look at you. "So... If I were to..." Finally, he ran his thumb over your left bud, causing you to bite your lip. Only once.

"C'mon, darlin'... if not for me, for him," Johnny pleaded, leaning forward in his chair. "What, do I have to show you exactly how to do it?" He unclasped his hands, making a motion as if he were to get up.

Kenshi tilted his head towards Johnny once more, raising an eyebrow. "If you don't mind," He insisted, still keeping his hands underneath your breasts. He could do this by himself, by the end of the night he would've had your whole body memorized. But he couldn't turn down Johnny's request.

Johnny groans and get up out of his seat, once more placing his hands on Kenshi's wrists. He wastes no time properly placing Kenshi's hands on your breasts. "Squeeze," He instructs, watching as you arch your back into Kenshi's touch. And when Kenshi does squeeze, hands gripping into the soft flesh, you can't help but let out a small 'mn,' in response. He treated your body as if you were fragile, yet his touch was full of lust. Johnny then guiding Kenshi's right hand back down to your stomach. "All yours." Johnny now hovered over you two, as if he were afraid Kenshi would spend the entire time just teasing you.

Kenshi finally relents, letting his right hand run down your stomach. It's erotic, his touch sensual. He's slow, as to map out your body. Johnny stayed close now, pressing his erection against the bed, through his pants. He was searching for any sort of release, just being able to watch Kenshi was excruciating. "Having fun, Cage?" Kenshi mocked, running his thumb over your nipple once more.

"Dammit, Kenshi," Johnny grunted, grinding against the sheets. "Y'know... you don't have to be so goddamn-"

"Slow?" Kenshi spoke for Johnny, his right hand finding the band of your boxers underneath your sweats. Johnny's breath hitches, as if this was the release he was seeking. Yet, Kenshi simply traces along your waist, the line leading further to your core. "What, am I not allowed to enjoy our darling's body...?" Now, he was just teasing Johnny. "Is this not what you wanted?"

"No! No... I, uhm," Johnny backs off, his face flush. "Shit," He was almost afraid that this moment would end. You pushed yourself closer to Kenshi, in attempt to make sure it didn't. You were eager, and perhaps Kenshi would understand that. "He wants it- just- I- Ugh..." Johnny stumbled over his words, watching as you push yourself further into Kenshi's touch.

"Really, is this what you want, my dear?" Kenshi smiles all too innocently, addressing you once more. His fingers stay placed firmly in the band of your boxers, his left hand finally leaving your breast. You whimper at the loss of touch, somehow the absence of it turned you on more. "I need to hear you say it."

You bite your lip, making eye contact with Johnny once more. He nods enthusiastically- neither of you can take it. "Yea..." You whisper, your voice breathy. "Please." You plead.

"Then," Kenshi nods, tugging at your sweatpants now. "I won't keep you waiting." You do not hesitate. You shuffle your legs out from underneath your body, so he can pull your sweats off. And he does. Johnny lets out a sigh, leaning back against the bed.

"Thighs," Johnny points, making direct eye contact with you once more. "His thighs are the most sensitive." He instructs, happy to finally continue. Kenshi follows, near immediately.

"Like this?" Kenshi's right hand runs down your inner thigh, taking his time. He traces each stretchmark, reveling in the warmth. In response, you let out a sweet moan, closing your eyes and enjoying the moment.

"Yeaaah..." Johnny smirks, his hand finally meeting his own erection. He let out a soft moan at the temporary bliss, watching how you squirmed, pushing your legs into Kenshi's touch. "His collarbone, too... he likes it there."

Kenshi followed, once more. He leaned in, closing the distance between your bodies. His lips find your neck first, not out of clumsiness, no, simply to put you on edge. You groan, craning your neck to the side to allow him more access. He does not play into this, however. He trails his teeth lightly down your neck, and finds your collarbone. He kisses you once more, only rewarding you after you let out a soft sigh. He bites, this time, and your hands find his shoulders.

"Awh, you've made him all red," Johnny points out, finally freeing himself of his pants. "Just like that, Ken-Doll." His hand snakes down into his own boxers, caressing his tip gently. His eyes burn into you, intent on following your own pleasure.

Kenshi's hand creeps closer and closer to your pussy. Yet shies away at the last minute. You whimper once more, feeling his breath against your skin. Goosebumps riddle your body, as you search for some sort of entrance, pressing your body further into him. You lean your head into his shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. Kenshi pulls away and places his left hand on your head, toying with your hair. He turns his head over to Johnny and grins at him.

Johnny just stares back, furrowing his brows and pouting once more. Somehow, you getting all of Kenshi's attention... and Kenshi getting all of you... He closes his eyes and rubs away the thought, teasing himself. "Give him what he wants," He demands, inching closer to you and Kenshi. And when Kenshi doesn't follow his direct order, he finally joins you two on the bed.

You raise your head, looking at Johnny through messy hair. There's a darker look in his eyes, not jealousy... maybe jealousy. He takes his spot behind Kenshi and leans over the man's shoulder, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. At the same time, not only does Kenshi's hand creep closer to your boxers once more, Johnny's hands find their way into Kenshi's pants. In tandem, the three of you moan. Johnny's pressed himself against Kenshi's back, grinding like a dog. Kenshi tilts his head back, moaning right into Johnny's ear. The sudden stimulation brings Kenshi's hands into your boxers, too. Ignoring all hesitation and teasing before. His hand enters through the leg, however his left hand grabs onto the waistband and pulls near immediately.

Johnny smiles at the chaos he's created, the stimulation he so urgently wanted- needed. His eyes land on your exposed bottom half, your pussy slick. Waiting. Kenshi's hand firmly gripping your thigh now, bucking his hips into Johnny's hand. "Now that's better, right?" Johnny taunts, glad to finally get this party started. Kenshi nods, slightly. Almost embarrassed to enjoy this. Johnny chuckles, leaning back closer to you. He picks up the speed of his ministrations, leaving Kenshi to bite his lip and suppress his pleasure. "And what about you, sweetheart?" His eyes glide now your frame, from your face, to your clothed torso, to your entrance.

You lowered your head, feeling your face and ears heat up. You couldn't speak, watching Kenshi enjoy the feeling of Johnny's hands, the swordsman's fingers digging into the soft warm flesh of your thigh still. Your words caught in your throat, you inch slightly closer to the two. Johnny closes the distance between you and him, placing another soft kiss on your lips. Only a peck, as he nudged Kenshi with his shoulder. "Don't forget about him, hm?" To see Johnny take such a dominant, teasing role was almost a dream come true. Yet, still uncanny.

Kenshi returns his focus to you, holding back more soft noises and reaching both hands out to you, holding you by your waist. His grip was firm, letting out a sigh. He was withholding his own pleasure, now intent on getting you off. Johnny chuckles, simply holding Kenshi's dick in his hand now. He let the swordsman take control of his own pleasure. Kenshi's touch was more erratic now, trailing back up your sides. Sometimes, he'd go slow, and sometimes he'd go quicker, as if he was ready for this interaction to reach its climax. Regardless, he seemed adamant on making sure you enjoyed his touch as much as he enjoyed exploring your body. As you watch Kenshi's hands make their way underneath your shirt once more, a lightbulb goes off in Johnny's head.

"Hey, Kenshi, Stop," Johnny starts, his hands retreating from Kenshi's dick. At this, the swordsman relaxes. However, despite how hard Kenshi had tried to hide it, the sudden absence of Johnny's touch clearly made him want more. "You'll love this." He gets off the bed, and grabs you by your waist. You squeak, as he turns you to the side, with your legs now dangling off the bed. Out of Kenshi's hands. Johnny does not explain further, simply directing Kenshi to sit behind you. Kenshi hesitates, but does so, regardless.

"What is your game, Cage?" Kenshi asks, taking his place behind you. His hands still firmly planted on your hips. Johnny grins, but doesn't respond. He simply finds Kenshi's right hand once more, and guides it up over your shirt, to your neck.

"Don't choke him, just," Johnny bites his lip, proud of his unspoken idea. "Just feel, I guess..." With that, he finally snakes down, placing his hands on your knees. Kenshi wraps his hand around your neck gently, just as Johnny instructed. He rests his chin on your shoulder, as if to watch Johnny. The actor looks up at you, now on his knees. His hands slowly make their way up to the insides of your thighs, parting them as you let out a low sigh. You hear Kenshi's breath hitch, Johnny's idea finally clicking in his head.

"Cage, you dog," Kenshi remarks, adjusting his position slight, pulling his pants down. Just enough for you to feel the heat spring from his boxers.

Johnny ignores Kenshi's comment, and looks up at you, with pleading eyes. "May I?" His tone is scandalous, his smirk ever-present. You nod once more, and Johnny goes in. His plan in full swing, now. You can't escape. His hands keep your thighs apart, and before you can realize the actor's marvelous plan, warmth hits your core. Johnny's tongue enters within your folds, staying still for a couple minutes as if to taste you. You whimper at this, arching your back and grinding into Johnny's tongue. Kenshi was enjoying the vibrations of your sweet sounds against his palm, placing a quick kiss on your shoulder. Johnny wasted no time, lapping at your pussy as if he had been hungry. With each moan, sigh, and stutter that escapes your lips, Kenshi rewards you with a another kiss. From your shoulder, to the crook of your neck, to your jaw.

Johnny moans into you, digging his nails into your thighs. He keeps you still, as you relish in his tongue, arching your back and exposing more of your neck for Kenshi to feel. For once, Kenshi thought, Johnny's idea wasn't half bad. He enjoyed this more than he liked to admit. He heard you, alright. Whining for Johnny, begging for more. His tongue flicks across your clit, producing a louder, stifled moan from you. After that, his tongue curls back inside you, searching for more. You are almost too caught up within the pleasure to notice that Kenshi's left hand follows down your body, hovering just above your pussy. It is only when you feel a digit enter you that you realize what Kenshi is doing. You yelp once more, pushing your back into Kenshi.

Kenshi laughs at your helplessness, trapped between both men. His thumb pays special attention to your clit, providing a sensitive tingling burning through your body. "Good boy," He whispered against the shell of your ear, his voice gruff. "Letting me explore you... I'm not done, you understand?" You can feel Johnny laugh against you, as Kenshi begins to fuck you with his fingers. His pace is slow, out... in... out... as opposed to Johnny's quick and desperate pace with his tongue. Kenshi keeps his right hand on your neck, still, reveling in the feeling of your pleasure and whimpering and whining and crying. His thumb continues to rub gentle circles on your clit, as Johnny's hands begin to roam your thighs. This only makes you moan more.

"Joh- fffuuhhh- ahn," Your words slur together, the differing paces in pleasure providing a pool of electricity welling up within you. You do not know who's name to cry, "Kensh---" As you are cut off by another wave of pleasure, as Kenshi toys with your clit, now swollen. Was Johnny's idea even needed? Kenshi seemed to have already mapped out your body in his heads, and yet, against Johnny's tongue, he almost knew your folds more.

Johnny pulls away momentarily, looking up at you. He licks his lips, letting out a satisfying sigh as you whimper from the loss of contact. "You taste so good, sweetheart," His eyes fall to Kenshi's finger, as the swordsman works another digit into your entrance. Johnny watches, content with what he's started. "All red, and needy..." Johnny enjoys the warmth of your thighs now, leaning his head to the left as he watches Kenshi's tattooed hands slowly unravel you. "How does that feel, hm? You like it?"

You can only nod, finding all sorts of lewd noises slipping from your mouth. Kenshi fingers you slowly, still. As if to the rhythm of your heartbeat. His breath hot against your neck, his left hand squeezing ever so slightly. Yet, he does not restrict your breathing. He seeks out to feel more of your sounds, groaning and begging for him to pick up the pace. He doesn't give in, however. He does this to remember your walls, every ripple, the texture, and just how wet you are. Kenshi must admit, this is more pleasurable than Johnny's hand down his pants.

Meanwhile, Johnny simply rubs your thigh, tracing every single stretch mark with his thumb. You jerk into Kenshi's fingers, grinding out once more. That soft, dull pressure builds just below your stomach, an electetricfying feeling shot up your spine. Your moans loose all coherency, begging inaudibly for more. Neither man acts on your pleas, driving you closer to your climax, slowly.

"Yeah, yeah... just like that," Johnny hums, finding it oddly comfortable to just watch. He made no move to pleasure himself, nor did Kenshi. "Go ahead, baby." He urges, as you grind up into Kenshi's fingers more. Kenshi does not budge on his pace, still. However, his thumb speeds up ever so slightly.

"This is what you want, no?" Kenshi teases, kissing the crook of your neck once more. You only whine in response, desperately nodding your head. Your body craves release more so than your mind, seeking to feel the weight release, snap, and spill out onto Kenshi's hand. With each thrust of his fingers, your legs shake, your thighs threaten to close. Yet Johnny stops them.

"Nuh uh, not happenin', sweetheart," Johnny uses both of his hands to push open your legs, wider. "I gotta see ya." With this, you let out another lengthy whine, before biting your lip. Somehow, this grants Kenshi better access. His fingers pick up the pace ever so slightly, your mind teeters on the brink of ecstasy. His fingers only reach slightly deeper, closer to your core.

Your eyes roll back, leaning your head against Kenshi's and making direct eye contact with Johnny. Not a moment later does that coil snap, cumming all over Kenshi's fingers. Your body twitches into his hand, each wave pushing more and more of your much needed release out of you. Johnny chuckles once more, Kenshi listens almost too intently to your moans. Somehow, still begging for more.

Slowly, Kenshi's fingers leave you, the last waves of pleasure exiting your body through moans. You slowly come down from your high, as Johnny pushes himself up from his position on the floor. Kenshi praises you once more, inaudible as the afterglow washes over you.

[yxstxrdrxxm]

SYNOPSIS: Kazuha, a well-known tailor in Inazuma, had a spouse. It's only a shame that his spouse is known for their 'infidelity' in his eyes. [ songfic ]

TW/S: Yandere tendencies, stalking, minor and major character death/s, emotional manipulation in a way, gore, violence, fire/arson, sewing... questionable fabric, unreliable narrator, shifting POVs, dead dove: do not eat, dollification, delusional thinking, Kazuha progressively loses it till the end, beheading, oh God this fic and tws are long Im so sorry―

NOTE: During the fic, it is recommended to listen to "The Tailor of Enbizaka". It will make sense when you read through this fic :)

(also, I apologize if this took a while for me to write. I got busy and writer's block hit me :( anyways, second work and its the best boy! Though, I hope you all don't blame me for fucking him up. Also also!! This is very much a long, LONG fic— like 2k+ long, so 🫡 gl soldier, I'll see if I don't need to make this to a 2 part series)

(update: this fic took 6k words, good luck y'all, this one is a WILD ride)

In Inazuma, there is a tale that is shared by many about a crimson clad man and his lover.

The others never settled on what he looked during the day before his death, nor were they sure what his prior job was before he became a tailor. However, they always complimented him for his looks and his skill, knowing that whatever he used as his own special fabric would be tailored and taken care of well.

Even with one full of holes and tears, he is gifted with the ability to patch them up till it was brand new. In the village he lived in, he was regarded for having such a talent, and he had his shop open and full of visitors.

However, the only thing that made people question him was his behavior. Despite how mild-manner the tailor was, he often comments on how his beloved darling refused to come home and continues to cheat on him.

Many those that still lived during the time said the crimson-eyed tailor acted delusional, but just how far can those delusions go?

No one knows but the man himself... And the one who persecuted him, too.

It was that year since I've seen my beloved after the accident.

A year that, when I saw them, I've longed to see them and speak to them about our time together as a married couple.

To begin with, I am Kaedehara Kazuha, or― as the townsfolk here call me, the 'Crimson-Eyed Tailor'. Although I am highly regarded for my craftsmanship, many told me that I am odd for my adoration for my beloved maple.

Why is it that odd? I thought all married couples do this, even if some think that it feels off.

Besides that, however, my darling isn't quite aware of my... Endeavors. More specifically, their streak of getting out for hours, perhaps days and weeks, and not even coming around to speak to me.

I am bound to them by an oath when we were married: we both drank sake together under that faithful light of the moon, with only nature watching over us. However, it would seem as if they have forgotten that, and ended up cheating on me in broad daylight.

Like they had no such shame.

Alas, I am but their husband, and I can't simply get mad at my beloved spouse. I know they did no wrong, for they sometimes meet with others as an act of being 'friendly'.

So while I focused on fixing the kimono, I've began to hear something that had been passed around in the village.

Something related to my darling's little ventures.

"I have spoken to [Name] about the matters in their marriage recently," one of the ladies spoke, her voice not so soft enough to conceal who she was speaking about as I fixed the fabric in my hands.

"And from what they told me, they're getting their kimono fixed for when their lover returns home!"

I simply continued on sewing, but the lady's next words had me flinch.

"Ah, they've been married for years, aren't they? And it seems they even have their shiromuku ever since their marriage to sir Kamisato Ayato. How romantic!"

...

The blood continues to spill on my finger, with the needle that I used pricking it when I've lost focus and got too careless.

How uncouth.

From the tale shared by the folks of Narukami Island, they talked about the crimson-eyed tailor's marriage with his supposed 'spouse': an immigrant of sorts from Fontaine, traversing to Inazuma to meet with their lover.

Their relationship together is strange. From the accounts of those with prying eyes, they said that he was the only one putting an effort to their relationship, and they wished to take it slow.

However, there are those that disagreed, saying that it had been the other way around— and it was he who wished for them to slow down.

No one can decide what the tailor had done, for they can't even tell if his desires were to rush or to slow down. But what can be confirmed is one thing everyone kept saying.

He doesn't like his trust being broken.

It had been days after hearing what I did.

I hadn't seen my dearest beloved in those days, and the day I saw them had been when the heir of the Kamisato clan had returned.

I had been busy as ever in sewing till I realized that I'm running out of thread. I don't have any spares, and I'm well aware that there are a few shops that sell supplies for sewing.

And so, on a lazy afternoon, I've got out of my shop in the hopes that I can catch the store to buy the supplies I needed.

The soft sound of wood hitting the pavement greeted my ears, alongside hushed murmuring and discussing with the commonfolk. I greeted a few that noticed me in passing, but they were swift to return to the people they were speaking to prior.

It was a mundane thing, really. But it was the type that felt familiar.

Turning a few corners, I managed to locate the shop I was looking for. Walking up the stairs, I waved at the lady taking care of the store—

—not before my ears perked up at the soft chattering in the distance.

My eyes trailed over to the source, and then, I see them.

My beloved maple.

I saw that they were conversing with the heir of the Kamisato clan, his hand reaching over to hand them a small gift: a small box, with the ribbon being the color of purple. I spot the gleam of gold on top of the ribbon, which eludes me to think that it is the insigna of the clan crested in gold.

How tacky.

I had to hold back the urge to stop them as their conversation was hard to discern, my focus back on the woman running the shop with the supplies I require.

"Hello, madame," I greeted, making the woman smile and nod in greeting as well. "Do you need fabric again, Kaedehara?"

I chuckled, but it was only to mask the bits of instability in my voice.

"Oh, not fabric, madame. I simply desire thread. I have ran out of red and black, and I didn't want to delay the commission I had from monsieur Lyney. Do you have any right now?"

"Red and black thread, hm? I can check at the back. Please give me a moment to look."

With a bow, the seamstress turned around to leave. With that, I let go of the breath I held and turned my gaze back to the bridge, just a few ways away from where my beloved sunset was at.

Watching the two figures, I couldn't help but simply stared at the attire that the heir wore.

Montsuki Haori Hakama: that usually means black or gray. I've known that colored kimonos were not worn with this in mind, and he certainly didn't wore anything that would be too straining.

Still, that shade of black is made of high quality. I'm not surprised if he wore it so rarely, as though to preserve the detail and its intricate work from his very own seamstress.

...

I wonder if I can take it?

Watching the two descend from the bridge, my eyes wandered back to the lady as she returned with the spools of thread, all varying in degrees of color and quality.

"Here you are, Kaedehara! These are the best I can find that fit the colors you asked for."

My eyes twinkled as I took the spools to my hands, my fingers turning and nudging the thread to see just how strong it is.

Interesting. Good quality, too... Maybe I can use this to finish that outfit I've been saving for a while.

"Thank you, madame," I thanked her, making her laugh. "Oh, it's not a problem, Kaedehara! You've done so much for this little town of ours, this is but a simple thing to repay for your efforts!"

With a nod, I paid the seamstress and turned back down to descend from the bustling upper part of the town, the sight of what happened in the bridge a bit further away bothering me from within.

No matter, Kazuha, I mused, carrying the items I required as I felt myself walk back home. Even if you want to get rid of him, it will be much too complicated. You simply need to be patient and wait till the opportunity comes.

...

Although, whoever made his clothes... I wonder if I can speak to them to inquire about their techniques.

The first case that started this was a cold one.

One that is related to a person no one knew so highly about, be it by their background, appearance, and even their name. All they were known for is being the 'tailor' for one of the clans.

There had been a lack of evidence and information about this due to how many tailors had been requested all across Inazuma at the time. It was understandable that people chalked up to them being missing as nothing more than an unfortunate case, not one worthy of being dug into.

Others had suspected that it had been associated with something else, that something (or someone) had done this deliberately. There was no evidence to this, but their claims were loud as they were bold, making it difficult to ascertain its authenticity.

However, the masses have all agreed that this was a normal occurrence. It was not one worth noting, because there had been a lot more that spoke of the same tale, always eluding to their fate being that they were murdered.

It was, unfortunately, the 'norm' of the village in the legend. A norm that, if the people of Inazuma heard it today, would have turned their heads in disgust for how abhorrent it sounds.

Still, many remained curious of the biggest what if that seem to echo in their mind.

Was the tailor associated with his sins?

The Kamisato clan has had it's ups and downs, and it isn't strange to see that they were seeking out talented tailors and workers to work under them.

What was surprising (to everyone), however, was that the head of the clan hired me to work as the Kamisato Clan's personal tailor.

The reasoning behind it was quite simple, especially with what the heir spoke to me when he and I met in the morning when I was to be summoned in the estate— due to his personal tailor (a family friend, he said) going missing for days, they were unable to track down his whereabouts and presumed that he has gone missing.

I was only hired as a "replacement" for the clan's special tailor till then, and he made it extremely clear that there was nothing else to it. Nothing that would spell the fact that I will permanently stay in that position.

Of course, to many, this may sound as an odd deal. There are so many tailors such as myself that would die to be consulted on, to work as the head of the clan's seamstress and work for their outfits. And perhaps, in their naivety, they may consider it as their efforts finally paying off in some way.

However, I have been in a clan myself before. This is nothing more if not a business deal.

A deal between one rising clan, and one whose surname has lost it's widely known heritage.

This only benefits the Kamisato Clan in the effort to save face. To save face of the potential backlash they'll deal with should any information of the missing clan's tailor be brought to light to everyone who remain blissfully ignorant of the innerworkings of the clan.

I would normally deny this kind of offer, mostly because there is no benefit for me to join and work for them. However, times have changed, and I simply reconsidered denying Kamisato Ayato's offer.

... There is a few benefits to me joining. It may be minimal, but it is better than scrounging around in the dark.

And so, I agreed to the offer.

The arrangements set for me to move was quite swift. I'm aware that that he is a man of his word, so it was quite easy for us to prepare my living arrangements and move to the estate.

With the supplies I get from the clan, it's been easy to stay put and gather information to the person I'm targeting.

... That was, until that day came.

I remember it clearly: it was the ends of fall, where the maple leaves fell more and more around the estate's grounds. This usually signified the coming of winter, so I usually savor the season by having time off to admire the scenery.

And in one of my walks, I had travelled from outside of the estate to see if things have changed.

Which, to my luck, I've encountered my darling beloved.

But just like last time, they were not alone.

In the journey of my wandering, I have seen them speak to the sibling of the older heir, Kamisato Ayaka, as they sit on the table outside of the Komore Teahouse.

From how far I am to the entrance of the teahouse, it gives me enough space to watch them interact like friends. The way that the Himegimi raised her fan to cover her face, perhaps from her eyes crinkling in amusement from what they told her...

... It was intriguing. Very intriguing.

So much so that I've felt the claws of envy grip in my chest, clutching its metal nails and making punctures on my already bleeding heart.

What a nuisance. Must you hurt me like this, darling?

I can hardly remember what happened after that. After all, my focus had been set on the two speaking to each other like they were simply companions, unknowing of what fate may bring upon them.

...

"Oh? Kazuha! I didn't notice you came to the Teahouse as well!"

My attention was swiftly pulled away from the sight of my dearest gem, and it landed on the familiar sight of olive eyes. From the appearance alone, many wouldn't think that an immigrant of Mondstadt would be a fixer.

Not even I would be able to see it happen.

However, this man had the skills to prove of his worth— after all, being Inazuma's 'fixer', he's often the go-to man to fix any and every problem that the Narukami Island and others may face.

Which makes him a glass canon— one that is volatile and unpredictable, even under the guise of a friendly face.

That is what Thoma is.

But this "glass cannon" has his weakness, and I know how to use it to my advantage.

Letting a smile slip to my lips, I chuckled, raising my hand to cover my mouth. "Well, I've been foretold by others about Komore Teahouse and it's history. I've been meaning to visit it, but I'm so busy fixing kimonos and making them to have time to spare."

A white lie, but then again, there are many of those that have been foretold in the waking of this world.

What does adding one do at this point? I'm already damned by the heavens the day I've seen the 'truth' of this fate of mine.

Just one lie wouldn't hurt, right?

"Haha, I can't blame you," the taller blonde seem to answer my query with his own, albeit he did seem to look more like he was at ease. Still, I needed to be weary; he can change sides if he so much as sensed that something is wrong.

"After all, with what the missing tailor in the clan circulating around the others in the estate, I'm even surprised that you manage to fill up in their position for months!"

... Oh? So he's noticed my talents, hm?

I shook my head.

"Oh, please. I'm just a humble tailor, Thoma," I reasoned, letting out a heavy sigh. "I have thought of asking them for advice on how they do their work, but since they're missing, all I can do is substitute for their absence."

He gave me an apologetic smile and nodded.

"That is true... I guess I'm just a bit too ecstatic to finally have someone that can fill in their role seamlessly. Lord Kamisato Ayato would've been panicking if we didn't have a replacement soon for his anniversary with his spouse."

... Spouse, huh?

"Hm... Is that so?"

I frowned in thought as I ponder over wanting to... Ask him for a favor. Sure, this one wouldn't do well on one's conscious mind if they knew, but it was simply for their sake.

It was all for them. I knew that.

It wouldn't hurt anyone if I asked Thoma to do this for me. At least, while I still have the chance to do so.

I can only hope the cannon does not think of shooting it's shot to me if I slipped up.

"Speaking of, Thoma, may I ask you for a favor?"

After the first missing case of the tailor, there had been more that were reported. The victims were all varied in their appearance, age, and even from where they used to live, be it in Narukami Island or even outside of Inazuma itself.

It was difficult to tell how many there were exactly, especially with how the legend is interpreted. Some said it was 20, while others said it was 50. This legend has been passed mouth to mouth, so details were not a key figure for a few to remember well.

However, every iteration has the same detail. The victims all had the same similarity as the tailor that simply went "missing".

All of them, in some way, were associated with certain individuals— one of them being his maple, where a few commented that they were the apple of the crimson man's eye.

From the legend and how it has been told, it is safe to assume that the motive was obvious from the first missing case.

It is akin of an open secret, if said secret was twisted to fit his ideals.

"Haven't you heard?"

"What? What is it?"

"The fixer, Thoma… He went missing just few days ago."

"What!?"

…

Ah, so he went missing like the others?

My ears had perked up at the news that we were told. Although Thoma is one many people never thought of being a 'target', the fact he went missing is... Odd.

"Perhaps he had done something," I heard one of the servants whisper amongst themselves, looking rather cautious. "After all, he's been very privy on a few things..."

"Yes, but he isn't the person I'd expect to vanish like that—"

"Shh—! People are going to hear you, you know! Keep it down!"

Hearing their footsteps echo as they take their leave, I turned back to what I have been working on. The sight of the kimono graced my vision as I raised the needle.

I began to sew the tears on it, letting out a soft hum while I fixed the black fabric from it's horrible state.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut—

"Sir Kaedehara? Someone is looking for you."

...!

I felt the needle prick my finger, but I didn't say anything. With a quiet hum, I raised my head to see someone speak to me, their face grim as they shifted on their feet.

Ah.

Despite the feeling of blood pour onto the fabric, I smiled and nodded, putting down the fabric of the kimono I was fixing.

"I'll be right there. Please tell them to wait for me."

"Really? Oh, thank Archons. I'll get going."

Watching them take their leave, my eyes flit over to my scissors.

Still as sharp as ever, I mused, pushing myself to stand up before fixing my attire. Mayhaps today won't need it to be sharpened.

For now, I had to see what the client wants from me. It would simply be a shame if I leave them alone for far, far too long.

Mayhaps they're here to inquire about the kimono I made. I made sure to add my personal touch to it.

...

As I walked to where my client sought to look for me, I see a familiar sight befell in the grounds of the Kamisato Estate.

The himegimi is currently speaking to my betrothed like they are close companions, and the magician (Lyney was his name, I recall), had been listening to their discussion at hand.

His eyes seem to lit up when he saw me, offering me a welcoming grin.

"You must be the tailor that my sister assigned, aren't you?" he asked when I was close enough to hear him, making me chuckle. Taking a seat across, I simply nodded, keeping my professional smile and demeanor in fear of offending him.

"Indeed, I am that tailor. My name is Kaedehara Kazuha, it is a pleasure to meet you."

"Haha, please, the pleasure is all mine!"

The magician shook my hand with mine, and the meeting went as smoothly as one may expect. Although, I couldn't help but let my eyes wander sometimes to where my lover is.

You were speaking to Ayaka like she's a friend of yours. I shan't stop you, darling, but perhaps you aren't aware of the pain you put me through.

Still, I couldn't afford to raise my voice, nor can I think of hurting you with my actions.

How unfortunate. Mayhaps I need to teach you a lesson myself, my angel.

If there was one thing that the legend failed to elaborate, it is the state of the missing people. However, there were... Creative liberties to those that began to see if the legend was true; or, pray tell, associated with any real life events.

To the eyes of others, going missing is a serious deal. It sparks a lot of ideas for what could've happened to them, and especially if they are alive or dead.

Albeit many shrugged off the prior cases, this one was serious. After all, the one that went 'missing' is the fixer of Narukami Island— Thoma, the immigrant in the nation of lightning.

It is, after all, what sparked the eventual downfall of the crimson-eyed tailor and his beloved. Many had thought this was the turning point, but those that did were found to be wrong.

This, after all, was simply the beginning of such downfall. But it wasn't to his lover, the missing residents, or even his companions.

It was to himself, when he used the blades to commit a sin undeserving of forgiveness.

The news that brought upon the missing Himegimi greeted the Kamisato estate that day.

I remember how people were in a disarray. They were much more shaken as they tried to get any sort of lead to where she is, and for some, they were already thinking of quitting.

The estate is already shaken from when Thoma went missing, but now that the young heiress has up and disappeared— especially in winter— it was in chaos.

While I sew the kimonos handed to me, there was an obi that laid on the pile by my right. It was a bit worn, but it can still be saved.

I needed to fix it, and give it my own personal touch. That way, it wouldn't look as though it had been abandoned by it's past owner.

Alas, the noise is getting to me. I could feel the silk resting on my bandaged hand slip every once in a while, if it weren't for how tight I've been holding the fabric.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I needed to put my focus on what I'm doing. I needed to focus on the job.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

I mustn't let blood nor dirt stain my creations.

That is what my mother taught me.

Slip, stitch, cut, sew.

Slip, stitch, cut, se—

"I apologize if the estate is in a disarray, detective," I hear a familiar voice speak amongst the hushed and panicked whispers. "The estate hasn't been the same ever since my retainer and my younger sibling had gone missing."

"Oh, it's alright! I'm sure this matter is too serious for you and the others to keep things organized."

"Haha... You can say that it is. Now, it's just right this way..."

... A detective is in the estate. How curious.

It wasn't right to snoop, but I was curious. Curious enough to have finished the kimono I was fixing before I stood to leave my quarters.

The others paid no heed as I followed after the two to Ayato's room, too focused to do what they were assigned to even bat an eye when I got close to where they were heading.

It was only when they were inside that I've stopped and simply bid my time, my focus set on what was happening by the shoji leading to his office. And it didn't took long till I hear things from the other side.

"Ah, so you think that someone is out for you?"

"Yes. Although I am normally adept in figuring out who it could be that's causing this to happen, I can't put heads or tails with how their presence eludes me."

"Man alive... And you said that it started when they went missing?"

"... Yes, detective."

"I see... Man alive, that sounds like it wasn't just a single, one-off case, then. I can help you, but this will take a while if there's no leads."

"I see. It's fine, detective. I'll pay you enough when you figure out where my retainer and sister are. I could hardly think that someone would take them without such consequence."

"Oh, no worries. With me around, no criminal will get out unscathed— I'll make sure to bring them here when I figure out who did this."

...

I see.

Perhaps its about time I have to settle this with him.

There was a time where I have thought that things will change.

Where these cases will be laid forgotten, perhaps even unresolved with the lack of hints.

I spent weeks on end, keeping my tracks short and erasing any leads that can lead towards me again.

I spent so, so long trying so desperately to hide anything resembling my crimes.

But alas... He found me.

It was the time where I had to dispose of those bodies. Although I had no heart to bury them under nature, I was not above treating them as though they were simply people.

Even in death, I wanted to make them feel like they look peaceful. Although, perhaps simply sewing their wounds left by my scissors was not something I can treat.

In the middle of the night, I was carrying the Himegimi outside of the abandoned houses I tend to with her retainer, Thoma. I had thought of letting her rest someplace else. Her attire has been sullied, and I needed to keep the two somewhere where no one can find them.

Corpses rot over time, and if it was possible, letting them turn to nothing in the likes of Tsurumi Island will be enough for my weary heart to rest.

With how adept I am of keeping my tracks hidden, I had thought no one would be able to tail on me. But alas, due to the missing cases I've caused, perhaps I wasn't expecting this to happen.

"I knew you'd be here, Kaedehara Kazuha."

I simply paused upon hearing his voice, my head craning back to see that it was Ayato. Despite how composed he looks, I can tell that the nights he spent trying to search for his beloved sibling and retainer wore him down.

His once flawless appearance was nothing but sullied, his attire feeling like its simply hanging off of him, and the way he staggered while looking at me without a shred of restrain is new. Raw for such a heir.

"And that body..." he murmured, his eyes glaring daggers when he found out who it was.

Perhaps it's her dress that makes her recognizable. Or the hair.

"... I thought I've erased everything that can lead back to me," I spoke, sighing as I placed Ayaka's body down. "What a shame. I was quite close to erasing any traces and signs of their whereabouts. It would be nice to only have them be marked as 'missing', not dead."

"So... You admit to it, then?" the heir asked, walking over with stride. "That you have done this, Kaedehara?"

I simply said nothing.

And I knew that was enough of a confirmation for him.

"I knew something was wrong with you," I heard him speak, which caught my attention. Turning my body to finally face him, I watched as he scoffed and continued, "After all, a man as serene as you often had the worst to hide."

"Oh? How curious. Why would you say that?"

I saw his lips curl to a smile.

"Why, I had someone tail after you," he answered, his tone sounding so blunt and his demeanor became more like he's simply 'teaching' me something. "Someone that is associated with the clan. I'm sure you know who it is."

... How uncouth.

"I see... And you confronted me now? For what?"

"A duel."

He unsheathed his blade, and raised it towards my direction.

"I do not usually participate in these, but I'd like to honor your tradition. If I win, you turn yourself in to the Tenryou Commission. Confess all of your crimes, and we shall call it even."

"... Very well."

I raised my own blade, as a sign to his own.

"I needn't state my own terms if I lose, as I can't let you get out alive. Now, let us settle this matter... To each of our graves."

Usually, such details cannot be recreated from interpretation alone.

However, this one was the few exceptions to it's inevitable fate due to it's popularity.

The legend had focused on keeping the existence and ties of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor up for the listener's interpretation. This scene, however, was directly associated to a case that had been tackled many years ago.

The case went as such: each resident of a town goes missing each week. No one knows when it happens, as the day is often random. The victims of these disappearances are also random, so no one could derive from it being a 'pattern'.

No matter how young or old one is, their gender, their living conditions, and even their past... When they least expect it, they simply vanish. Erased.

The only times where the victim was found, several eye-witnesses had different iterations. Some said that the bodies were buried, while others found it floating by riverbanks and the side of the sea.

But the most common— and widely known, of course— was that each victim were made to a doll.

Their limbs were nothing if not sewn with thread, cuts of various degrees being patched with thread of similar color to 'mask' it's oddity. Their eyes were closed, but those that were unfortunate to open it were only greeted with it being turned to the back of their heads.

In some victims, several pieces of their possession were taken. However, most kept theirs on their person, and were seen to not be tampered with.

No one knows what drove someone to this degree. No one can even comprehend such a fact that it was entirely possible.

But to someone who's mind was twisted to the point of no return... It was.

This case had a name, but every resident of Inazuma refused to speak of it. Each time one does, they were told of the legend behind this case.

They were told of the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, and they were warned of one thing.

"Do not look at him or his betrothed. If you do, you're as good as dead."

...

It had been a year since our fight happened.

I remember the chaos that occurred back when I finally erased that man. Although it did left his body in an undesirable state, I still fixed and sew him up so that he didn't look as such.

Even in death, I wish to give the heir some form of dignity. That, in some way, I wish to give him his final respects.

After all, he had simply misunderstood my intentions. He didn't knew that I was out for one person from the very beginning.

The downfall of the Kamisato Clan was imminent at that point. I've seen many flee, and witnessed the tragedy befall on the Narukami Island. Many of the people I've met had simply ran off to seek refuge, the terror grasping and choking them like they were unable to think.

However, I remain clear. And I simply continued to do my work diligently.

I have been working on something... Special. And with one last snip of my bloodied scissors, it was now complete.

My final and life-long work, all laid across and now in my hands. The fabric I chose was rather difficult to sew. I should have known that human skin would be too hard, depending on where I retrieved it from.

Dying it in black, I wrapped the obi that had been sewn with the use of the Himegimi's locks, and retrieved the crest of the Kamisato Clan. Adorning it on my person, I viewed myself at the mirror to see my handiwork.

"Finally," I murmured, feeling an odd sensation in my chest as I wore the fruits of my labor. "It is now complete."

With the chaos guiding me and masking my presence, I fled to head by the mountain.

I knew where you were bound to go.

I knew of your crimes long before you knew me.

I didn't paid much attention if anyone saw me. I didn't care if blood simply poured from my attire and to the ground that I'm walking on. I could hardly give a damn if some realized of my crimes in that blasted estate.

I had my scissors with me, and I only wish to fulfill my last wish before I leave this cursed world.

You murdered my family, [Name].

You were the one who caused that fire all those years ago.

I remember those burns you gave me. I remember just how much of a coward you were, fleeing from the scene you caused yourself.

How could I lose everything? And how can you keep your family?

No. No, that mustn't happen. I must set this right.

As your 'lover', I'll make sure you understand what you did wrong.

The culprit of the legend was caught, at least by the end.

All of the townsfolk had banded over to help the detective figure out who had caused such a stir, and it was only because of one eye-witness that said everything. That simply told the truth of the man behind it all.

It was the Crimson-Eyed Tailor, the one who was gripped with envy, that caused such a massacre to occur.

When they found what became of the last victim, his 'lover', they became a doll of his own. After killing them, the legend proceeded to speak of how he had simply 'sown' their skin alongside his, making them his perfect beloved doll.

One of the iterations even mentioned that his unnamed lover was in a Shiromuku outfit, eyes gouged so they may "never look at another man". At least, from what the tale has concluded.

Because of the severity of his crime, the tailor was sent to be on his death row. When the detective tried to get information out of him, they found out that he has lost his mind.

He became a shell of the brilliant man they knew, laughing and speaking that he has finally fulfilled his desire.

Even when he was dragged onto the guillotine, that day was marked as the end of the massacre, and those who were alive spoke of the man's chilling laughter up until his head was cut off.

...

And that was the end of the "Crimson-Eyed Tailor" and his legend.

Or, more accurately, the history of the known "Dead Man's Heart" case, and how Kaedehara Kazuha murdered the one he "loved" for revenge.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

[corrieguards]

Charmin'

Fives x reader Summary: the first two times Fives tries to charm you, and the time he succeeds Word count: 1,7k T/W: none

A/N: If Fives flirted with me I would simply pass away. Fives is the definition of "too hot to handle" and I am not built for dealing with that much hotness interacting with me.

On that happy note, I hope you enjoy this little fic! :D my masterlist

The first time Fives spotted you on that stool in 79's he had to do a double take because there was no way someone that gorgeous was willing hanging out at the tacky clone bar.

His next thought was he absolutely needed to go and talk to you, right now.

He nudged Echo, getting his attention before whispering to him .

“Don’t look now but... What about her? The one sitting by the bar” he subtly pointed over Echos shoulder. 

Echo obviously whipped around immediately, catching a look at you and snorting before laughing loudly

“Yeah right Fives, keep dreaming.”

The sound of the clones talking made you turn and look towards the two, startling when you found them both staring at you. Fives grimaced, sending you an awkward smile and wave. You looked taken aback but forced a small smile back.

As soon as your back was to them Fives angrily grabbed Echo’s shoulder, turning him back around.

“Kriff sake Echo, what part of ‘don’t look now’ do you not understand?” he hissed at his brother, who only smiled cheekily and shrugged.

“What? S’not like you had a chance with her anyway”

Fives immediately sent him an offended look "I’ll have you know I can easily get any girl” 

This made Echo spit out the drink he had in his mouth, laughing. Fives just crossed his arms and lent back, severely unamused.

When he saw Fives was in fact very much serious his laughs died down "Wait.. You actually believe that?”

Fives nodded firmly in response, Echo dissolving into giggles again

“What. You don’t think I can get her?” Fives huffed, making Echo laugh further in response, only able to shake his head.

Fives of course took this as a challenge and decided to make it his personal mission to woo you tonight. 1 because he thought you were absolutely stunning, and 2 because he was going to thoroughly enjoy the look on Echo's face.

Echo quickly nudged Jesse who was sitting next to him, getting an annoyed “What.’” in response.

“Trust me, you’re gonna want to watch this Jesse. Fives is about to get humbled.”

Fives huffed unamused, muttering angrily under his breath as he got up. Smoothing his hair and fixing his blacks he strolled over to you, pointedly ignoring Echo and Jesse who were giggling behind him.

He slid into the stool next to yours, oozing confidence as he sent you one of his most charming smiles

“Hey there beautiful.”

You turned to look at him, giving him a subtle up and down, raising an eyebrow at the way he'd sat with his legs spread, obnoxiously taking up way more space than needed Oh, so he was one of those guys then.

Catching you staring, he sent you a wink. "Like what you see meshla?"

You shrugged, shooting a glance behind him at his two friends who immediately scrambled trying to pretend they weren't just gawping at you two, one of them knocking over his drink in his haste.

The sight made you chuckle, turning your attention back to the trooper in front of you.

"Same as 90% of the guys in this bar right now. You're gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna stand out, trooper."

"What? These bad boys aren't doing it for you?" He smirked, flexing his arms and showing off his biceps.

His arms looked... good. Really good. You flushed, shaking your head to clear your thoughts and rolling your eyes to try to play it off.

Mistaking your head shake for a no, he decided on trying a different approach.

"No? Ok, I guess I'll just have to charm you with my words then."

You mearly tilted your head, raising your eyebrows at him and opening you hands in a 'go on then' gesture.

He smirked, resting his arm on the table top and leaning toward you, making sure to keep eye contact as he spoke.

"Y'know you look great in this lighting" he leant in even closer, whispering seductively "But you'd look way better in my bed"

This one got a surprised huff out of you, not expecting him to actually go full out. He smiled sheepishly at your reaction.

"Sorry, was that one too forward? Just couldn't help myself"

"No I just- well I'm not used to getting hit on like that I guess" you replied with a nervous smile.

He gave you a look of surprise "Seriously? Well, you've been hanging around the wrong guys then my dear. Guess you should have met me sooner."

You chuckled slightly, sliding a few credits ove the table for your drink before sliding off your seat. He finally clocked what you were doing, his hand automatically reaching out to stop you.

"Hey, hey. Where you goin'? I though we had something going on here?" he gestured a hand between the two of you frantically.

You smirked slightly, patting him on the shoulder

“Like I said, gonna have to try harder than that.”

His mouth parted slightly in surprise, scrambling for something to say, but you had already turned and were walking away. 

“I’ll see you around?” he shouted out hopefully, to which you only responded with a quick wave over your shoulder before disappearing into the crowd.

He stood, staring dumbly at were you'd just been. Echo and Jesse gave up trying to hide their giggles and burst out laughing, the sound shaking Fives out of his trance.

“Told you so…” Echo said in a sing-song voice, only making Fives scowl. The look on his face must have been funny because it only seemed to make them laugh harder.

“Aw c’mon Fives, don’t get all moody on us now.” Jesse clapped a hand on his back “Better luck next time, yeah?"

—

The next time he spotted you he though he was hallucinating. You'd never told you you worked for the GAR but he could swear it was you under that walker. He squinted, taking a few steps closer before his face suddenly broke into a grin. Yep, that was definitely you.

He jogged up to you and put his foot on the edge of your creeper, making you squeak in surprise when he rolled you out from under the walker you were working on.

You blinked up dumbly as he loomed over you, forearm leaning against the side of the walker and head tilting.

“Baby we really gotta stop meeting like this” he purred, smirking down at you.

You huffed, pointedly rolling back under the walker and your response coming slightly muffled from underneath it.

“And you gotta stop distracting me while I’m working”

Fives chuckled and knelt down to your level. Much to your annoyance he grabbed you creeper and pulled you out again, stupid smirk still on his face.

"I couldn't resist, you just look so sexy with that grease all over your face."

Eyes widening, you furiously began wiping at your face with your sleeve, only managing to smear it further.

Feeling sorry for you he picked up a stray rag and gently swiped at your face. The tenderness of action making a light pink spread towards your cheeks. He caught your blush and raised his eyebrows at you, chuckling slightly

“Stop laughing at me” you tried to say it seriously but his continuous giggles eventually made you break into a smile. 

He gasped dramatically, pressing a exaggerated hand to his chest “So she does smile after all”

“Yeah yeah very funny." You rolled your eyes at him playfully. "Y'know if you insist on staying here then you might as well make yourself useful.”

"Why of course, it would be my pleasure" he made a slight bow "What does my lady require?’”

You chuckled, shaking your head at his antics “Just pass me that spanner will ya?”

He quickly picked up the one you were pointing at, staring to pass it to you but suddenly pulling it back just as you were about to grab it.

 “What the hell Fives?"

 “Your hands are so much smaller than mine. Here we should compare.”

Before you could protest he was already holding his palm up to yours and pressing your hands together. The tips of your fingers only reached halfway up his and you hated the fact that it gave you butterflies.

When you started to pull away he quickly interlaced his finger with yours, keeping you in place. If you thought you had butterflies before then you must have a whole war going on in your stomach right now. 

The look on your face must have given your feelings away because when Fives’ gaze flickered up to yours, his face quickly spread into a wide grin. 

Opening his mouth to tease you further, he was interrupted by a shout of his name.

“Fives! Stop flirting with my mechanic and get over here”

You both turned to see Rex glaring at him from across the hanger. Fives shrugged, looking back at you

“Sorry meshla, but duty calls” he pressed a quick kiss to your hand which was still in his, making you blush instantly.

“Fives! What did I just say?” Rex’s voice rang through the hanger again, making Fives scramble to stand up.

“Sorry Cap, coming!” . He shot you a quick wink over his shoulder “I’ll see you around gorgeous”

—-

He was determined you’d eventually give in, and after many many testing remarks and lame pick up from his side, you eventually agreed to go on a date with him.

And you could honestly say that that one date was the best you’d had in your life (not that you’d been on many).

Fives had completely outdone himself and seeing him out of his uniform and away from his brothers was a eye opener for you.

When it was just the two of you could really see his loving and caring side peek through, and you fell for it hard.

As much as you hated proving Fives right, he was right all slong. You two had crazy chemistry and his confidence perfectly balanced out with you shyness, truly bringing out the best in the both of you.

So, to your surprise (and Echo’s dismay) somewhere along the line he'd actually managed to win you over.

Which led to how you were right now, curled up against his chest in your bed, his arms wrapped around you tightly.

His back was against the wall, chin resting on your head. You were sat across his lap, looking down at your joined hands.

Both of you were soaking up each other presence and silently enjoying the closeness of it all.

“I love your hands,” you mumbled, breaking the silence and getting a lazy hum from him in response.

Tracing your thumb over his knuckles, you carry on “They fit so well with mine.”

Fives chuckles, giving your hand a quick squeeze

“Lucky you then because there are thousands of my brothers with these exact hands across the galaxy”

You twist slightly, enough so that you could look at his face, smiling teasingly

“Then how come only your hands give me butterflies when you touch me?”

He melts instantly at you comment, grinning so wide his face hurts before shrugging and nuzzling his nose to yours, whispering softly against you lips

“Must be because I’m just that much more charmin'”. 

-----

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[strang3lov3]

Edit 4/5/24 - Aya’s taken my fic down, and I promised to take down my posts about her plagiarism if she’d apologize to me for hurting me. She didn’t, so these posts are staying up. I blocked her and let her know she’s more than welcome to send an ask from a side blog apologizing. This behavior is unacceptable.

Update about my plagiarized fic/ayadrafts (original post here)

Tw-fatphobia, violent threats

First, I wanna say thank you to everyone who is showing up and sticking up for me. Eddie stans, Joel stans, writers and readers both. I love and appreciate you so much. I know a good amount of you have reported ayadrafts and that’s awesome. If anyone in the comments is able to let others know how to do the same, that would be greatly appreciated.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to update this so I think we’ll just go through the timeline.

Explanation below.

Last time I talked about this yesterday where I wasn’t responding to an ask, I showed screenshots of ayadrafts’ messages with others, how she laughed at both them and me. I posted and reblogged with screenshots of countless deleted comments. That was in late afternoon. During that time, people repeatedly commented on Ayadrafts’ post calling out her blatant theft of my work and even alerted blogs that had reblogged/liked her post that it was stolen from me. Ayadrafts has admitted to stealing my fic, but simply does not care or feel bad.

What I did not see and what I do not have screenshots of is Ayadrafts telling individuals to k*ll themselves. It seems that she gets a comment, replies to it, and then deletes both within seconds. Multiple people, both friends and strangers have let me know that this was taking place.

As if she could not get any lower. Laughing in my face, mocking my work, and then telling people to k*ll themselves? Absolutely abhorrent and frankly, fucking cruel.

But apparently others who were defending me were cruel right back to her. From what I’ve heard, I believe people who were commenting remained fairly civil, even if ayadrafts herself did not like the comments. I’ve received asks about this and I’m disappointed to hear that people were in her asks calling her a fat cunt and other abhorrent things. That’s a low blow and does not reflect me or my values.

Believe me, I understand the anger. I’ve never met someone so antisocial and uncaring. I am angry too. Fucking livid. But that doesn’t give me or anyone else the right to say something just as heinously cruel back to her. I don’t condone anyone being sexist, fatphobic, homophobic, racist, or hateful on my behalf. None of these things will ever be tolerated by me, even if they’re being used to “defend” me. Not okay with that in the slightest.

Take the high road, don’t give this person any more ammo to be any more cruel and atrocious than she’s already being.

After this, ayadrafts disabled replies on her post of my stolen fic for the night and everything quieted down for the most part. Today, I see that she’s got those replies back on and is likely looking for another fight, blocking and unblocking people. Because, like I said yesterday, it is evident that she has a clear need for negative attention, and all of this is a game to her.

If you wanna participate in that game, you’ve got my consent. Spam the shit out of her, annoy her through posts like this and this. I don’t care, because frankly I am past the point of sympathy with her, and I think I’ve been way too forgiving up to this point. Maybe she’ll cave and delete my fic like I’ve repeatedly asked her to do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But it’s entirely possible she won’t, and that she’ll double down even harder, and that by continuing to fuel the fire she’ll only debase herself further and in doing so make us all feel worse. Were you all drained watching this go down yesterday? Because I sure as shit was.

So at some point I might ask you all that we just drop it, for both the sake of my mental health and your own. I think we’re all unbelievably hurt and upset, but we need to be able to walk away at some point. The reality is, we can keep this going forever but hateful, spiteful people like this don’t often thrive long without something to feed on.

I’ve reported her post multiple times, tweeted at tumblr, and I’ve heard nothing but crickets. It is what it is.

[suugarbabe]

Hello!! I was wondering if I could request a Theo Nott x reader fic, where Theo invites the reader to his quidditch game. Slytherin wins, and to celebrate, Theo invites the reader to fly with him, but she's is kinda afraid of heights. Eventually he convinces her to take a ride with him and it's really fluffy and sweet!

Happy Holidays! <3

sorry i'm such a shite shite person as this request is from like december but I hope it does justice for you because i think it's actually really cute this is also not edited so pls ignore any mistakes <3

Pansy smacked your hand away from your mouth, “If you keep gnawing on your nails there’s going to be nothing left.” You shot her a dirty look playfully, “Well if those fucking weasel twins weren’t so freakishly gangly and smacking bloody bludgers at Teddy every two seconds maybe I could relax!” Pansy gave you a knowing look, “Is it really that? Or is it the fact that we’re winning and you promised Theo you’d finally allow him to fly you around the pitch.” The smile you tried to fake could easily be described as a grimace. It was widely known in your friend group that you did not fly. You hated flying. You were perfectly fine with your feet planted firmly on the ground. You did the required first year class and after that you were done. 

However the budding more than friendship that started happening between you and Theo led to each of you pushing yourselves to try new things. Theo allowed you to teach him how to bake (the muggle way) and in exchange you promised him you would allow him to take you flying strictly if Slytherin won their game against Gryffindor. You had honestly believed your house would lose, not because you didn’t believe in your team, but because historically this year the prideful group had been demolishing your sneaky snakes. 

Your bet seemed to be all the motivation Theo needed to play twice as good as he normally did, as he had your house up by about 150 pts. Pansy’s grip on your thigh tightened as you both watched Draco nose dive towards the bottom of the pitch. “He sees it. Oh fucking Salazar’s sake, he sees it. If he gets ahold of this snitch before golden four-eyes scar boy I am going to reward him graciously tonight.” You faked a gag, “Pansy, please. Spare me the detai-” your retort was cut off by a squealing screech as Pansy and the rest of your house’s section erupted into roars of cheers. Zips and flashes of green seemed to fly by you and around the pitch as silver and emerald fireworks erupted, signaling the official victory of Slytherin house. 

As you were watching the whirling wizards around you, one with dark golden curls and deep ocean eyes stopped abruptly in front of you. With a knee weakening grin he hovered just before your view. “Hello, Teddy,” you watched with a smile as he hopped off his broom to stand on the bleachers beside you, “Ciao, dolcezza.” You stood before him, trying to control the goofy grin plastered on your face as he seemed to be looking you over. “You here to cash in on the bet, Teddy?” Theo’s grin grew three fold, “Only if you’re willing, princepesa.” You nodded, going to grab his broom before he quickly pulled it away, “Woah, now. There’s a few rules of the air you have to follow. If you can’t, I simply will not allow you to fly.” 

You rolled your eyes with a cheeky grin, “You know I did take the same flying class as you first year, Mister Nott.” Theo shook his head, “Times have changed, amore...now listen up.” Theo rested both hands over the tail end of his broom, resting his chin on top of that. You loved how tall he was, how broad he was. It made you feel like he could protect you from anything and everything. “Rule number one, hands on the broomstick at all times.” You looked at him curiously, “I thought I was riding with you? Wouldn’t I just be holding on to you?” Theo shook his head, biting his bottom lip briefly in mischief, “No, amore, you’ll be in front of me. This is a lesson after all. Not a joy ride. If you want one of those it’ll have to be later.” Theo was able to get out a quick wink before you shoved his shoulder playfully, “Don’t be dirty, Teddy!” 

Theo couldn’t hide his smile as he held out his broom, “C’mon. Hop on, cutie.” You snatched his broom from his hands, only furthering the growth of his smirk as you swung your leg over to mount it. You could have never prepared for the heat you felt rise in your cheeks as Theo mounted the broom behind you, arms and shoulders easily engulfing yours as he held onto the broom himself. “Now just push off with a little jump,” Theo’s lips ghosted the shell of your ear as he whispered instructions to you. “Yes, yes, I remember…” you tried to sound intimidating but you feared he could sense your hesitance as you gave a meek hop off the ground. Theo thankfully jumped with you, launching the two of you off of the bleachers and into the sky around you. 

Your grip on his broomstick was knuckle white as you squeezed your eyes shut. “Uh-uh, princepesa, eyes open. Steer the way.” Your eyes shot open, noticing Theo had taken you both significantly higher in a matter of forty-seconds. “Oh fucking Salazar, how did we get so high?” Theo’s breath on your neck was the only warmth of air around you right now, “Lean forward a little bi-” You cut him in a panic, “FORWARD? Are you trying to kill me, Theo? Look I’m sorry for throwing flower at you, truly.” Theo only laughed again, “Lean forward and we’ll start to go lower, amore.”  Pink tinted your cheeks and you were thankful that he couldn’t see them. You followed his instructions, leaning forward carefully. The broom did exactly as Theo said it would, slowly taking you both lower and lower. As you came closer to the ground you realised you never asked Theo how to actually land after flying. But you didn’t get much time to panic as Theo’s feet hit the ground first, one arm wrapping around your waist as you tried to not trip over your feet. Once you found stable ground, Theo quickly let go. “Erm, we should go, erm, meet the others for dinner.” You nodded in agreement, the two of you walking in a comfortable silence back inside the castle, Theo playfully bumping into your side. The eyes of all your friends found the two of you as you entered the great hall together, neither you nor Theo noticing as you sat down next to each other. Blaise raised an eyebrow, using his fork to gesture at the two of you, “Where’ve you two been, huh?” You opened your mouth to respond, but Pansy quickly jumped in before you, “She was riding Nott’s broomstick.”