#if you were looking for one-sentence answers

[arkaiveofurown]

he overheard you saying you love him

Pairings: Sabo x Reader, Ace x Reader, Law x Reader, and Zoro x Reader

Word Count: ~1,000 - 2,000 words each character

tags: pre-relationship, fluff, confession

my masterlist here ♡

——-

Sabo

You weren’t sure when it had started.

Maybe during that first mission with Sabo—when he pulled you out of a collapsing tunnel with smoke in his lungs and soot in his hair. Or maybe it was the way he looked at you during meetings, when everyone else spoke over each other and his eyes quietly sought yours like they were the only steady thing in the room.

Regardless, you’d never told him.

Instead, you wrote letters. Quiet, aching, folded-up things in the corners of notebooks and between pages of Revolutionary Army maps. Pages filled with things you could never say aloud. Sometimes it was just a sentence. Sometimes full confessions. But you never gave them to him. You didn’t need to. Writing them was enough.

Tonight, the base was quiet. Outside, a soft breeze shifted through the trees, and the only sound in your room was the scratch of your pen.

You were curled up at your desk, writing again. Candlelight flickered beside you. You didn’t hear the knock. You didn’t notice the door creak open.

“Y/N?”

You jolted. “Koala—!”

She froze in the doorway. Her eyes dropped to the open page on your desk before you could hide it.

“Wait. What is that?”

“Nothing.” You slammed the notebook shut, your voice too sharp.

Koala blinked. Then her eyes narrowed.

“…That’s your handwriting.”

“So?”

She stepped in, shutting the door behind her. “So that was definitely Sabo’s name.”

You groaned. “Koala—please.”

She raised a brow. “Is that a letter to him?”

You turned away. “It’s not for him. I mean—it is, but—I wasn’t gonna give it to him.”

A beat of silence passed.

“…You’ve written more than one, haven’t you.”

You didn’t answer.

She came closer, her voice gentler now. “Y/N.”

Your shoulders dropped.

“It’s just… easier to write it than say it,” you whispered.

Koala sat on the edge of your bed. “You really like him, don’t you?”

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

Your voice cracked a little when you said it. You didn’t even mean to. You covered your mouth, eyes burning suddenly with tears you hadn’t expected.

You hated this—how hard it was to hold it all in sometimes.

“I like him so much it hurts,” you confessed. “And he doesn’t even know.”

Another voice answered:

“Yes. I do.”

⸻

Your head whipped toward the door.

Sabo stood there, hand still on the knob. He looked as if he’d frozen in place. Behind him, the hall was dark—he’d come alone. No footsteps, no warning. Just his silhouette framed in low light.

You stared. “Sabo—?”

He stepped in slowly. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I came to return Koala’s map notes. I wasn’t—” He cut off, brow furrowed, and looked at you. “You really meant it?”

Your throat felt tight. “I—I didn’t know you were listening.”

“I was,” he said softly. “Every word.”

You turned to Koala, but she was already slipping out the door with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry!” she mouthed before vanishing.

Now it was just the two of you.

“I didn’t plan to say that,” you said, voice trembling. “I just… It’s been a long time. I’ve been trying to keep it in.”

Sabo’s steps were slow. Careful.

“How long?”

You couldn’t meet his eyes. “Since Baltigo.”

“That long?”

You nodded.

He moved closer. You felt him pause just beside you.

“…Why didn’t you tell me?”

You hesitated. “Because we’re in the middle of a war, Sabo. And you’re important. And brave. And reckless. And always getting yourself into danger—”

“That’s not a reason not to tell me.”

You looked at him then.

His eyes were soft. No teasing, no judgment. Just that same steady, thoughtful Sabo you’d always known—only now closer than he’d ever felt before.

“I was scared it would ruin everything,” you said quietly.

He gave a small, almost broken laugh. “I’ve been scared of that too.”

You blinked. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N.”

You stared, stunned.

He gave a small, sheepish shrug. “I never wrote letters or anything, but… if I had, I probably would’ve filled a hundred pages by now.”

Your breath caught. “You really mean that?”

He looked away, ears turning red. “Yeah. Every word.”

A laugh broke from your lips—half disbelief, half relief. “You idiot.”

He looked back at you with a faint smirk. “Says the one who actually wrote letters.”

You let out a shaky laugh.

And suddenly it felt all real.

——

A few days later, Sabo knocked on your door. When you opened it, he was holding something out.

Your notebook.

“The one with the letters,” he said with a grin.

Your eyes widened. “Where did you—?!”

“I didn’t read them,” he promised. “I swear. But… if you want me to, I will.”

You stared.

Then you reached out—and flipped to the last page. Your handwriting was still there. The ink fresh. The one you’d been writing the night he overheard.

You tore it out, folded it neatly, and handed it to him.

He blinked. “Just this one?”

“For now.”

He looked at it like it was something precious. “Can I read it in front of you?”

You nodded.

He opened it slowly.

You watched his eyes move across the page—watched the flicker of a smile, the subtle shift of his expression. By the time he finished, he was quiet.

Then, carefully, he looked at you.

“Do you want a letter too?”

You blinked. “You’d write one?”

He leaned in, closer than ever before. “I’d write one every day.”

And when he kissed you, it felt like the answer to every unsent word you’d ever written.

——

Ace

It was a quiet afternoon on the Moby Dick. The sun hung lazily above the sea, casting golden warmth over the deck. Laughter echoed faintly from the other side of the ship, but Ace wasn’t with the others. He sat alone near the back, arms crossed over his knees, a troubled expression clouding his usually bright face.

He’d overheard a few new crewmates whispering—again.

“Roger’s son, huh? No wonder he’s so reckless.”

“I still don’t get why Whitebeard lets him wear the mark.”

Their voices replayed in his head, sharp as knives. No matter how far he came, how hard he fought, those words always lingered. Was he just his father’s shadow? Was he even supposed to exist?

You found yourself talking to Marco later as you leaned against the rail, eyes watching the horizon.

“You think Ace is okay?” you asked softly.

Marco raised a brow. “You’ve been watching him all day.”

You hesitated, then sighed. “He always looks like he’s trying to prove something. Like he doesn’t believe he’s enough. I just wish he’d let himself feel… loved.”

“You’re in love with him, huh?” Marco said with a smirk.

You didn’t even deny it.

“Yes. I love him.” Your voice dropped. You hadn’t noticed Ace was nearby—standing still behind the corner, frozen as the words sank in.

——

Ace kept tossing fire between his fingers like nothing happened, but his heartbeat wouldn’t slow down. She loves me? The words played over and over in his head.

He approached casually, as if he hadn’t just overheard something that shook him to his core.

“What are you two whispering about?” he asked, flopping down beside you, a teasing grin on his face.

You jumped a little. “Ace! Uh—nothing really. Just… talking.”

Marco snorted and walked off, giving you two space.

Ace tilted his head, pretending to look bored. “Sounded like something deep.”

You hesitated, then offered him a gentle look. “I just… worry about you sometimes.”

His smile faltered slightly. “You don’t have to.”

“But I do,” you insisted. “You’re always trying to be the strongest, the most reliable… You don’t need to carry it all alone.”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes dropped to his hands.

“Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve been born at all,” he said quietly, voice barely audible over the waves.

Your heart clenched. “Ace…”

“I hear the things people say. About my father. About me. It never really stops.”

You touched his arm gently. “You’re not your father.”

He glanced up at you, eyes guarded.

“You’re you, Ace. I care about you because of who you are—not because of your name, and definitely not in spite of it.”

⸻

Ace couldn’t sleep that night. He paced the deck in the dark, wrestling with your words. He’d heard so many lies in his life. So many people who wanted something because of the blood in his veins—or wanted nothing to do with him because of it.

But your voice was different.

He found you in the galley, wrapping up a late-night snack. You turned, surprised.

“Ace? You okay?”

He looked… unsure. And for someone like Ace, that was rare.

“I heard what you said to Marco earlier,” he admitted, leaning against the doorway.

You froze, eyes wide. “You… you did?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled, but it was hollow. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Just… kinda happened.”

You shifted awkwardly. “Well… I meant it.”

He looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“I’m not my father, Y/N. But sometimes I think people only ever see him when they look at me. Like I’m just waiting to become him.”

You walked up to him, eyes soft.

“You’re not him. You never will be.”

Ace stared at you, caught in the sincerity of your gaze.

“I love you,” you said, voice steady. “Not because you’re Gol D. Roger’s son. Not because you’re Whitebeard’s commander. But because you’re Ace. And that’s enough.”

Ace stared at you, his eyes flickering with something raw and real. Then he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you, Y/N,” he breathed. “Not just because you see me… but because when you do, I finally feel like I deserve to be here.”

Your heart swelled as you wrapped your arms around him.

“You do, Ace. You always have.”

And for once, he let himself believe it.

——

Law

The Polar Tang was unusually quiet that evening, save for the hum of the ocean against the hull. You sat in the galley with Shachi and Penguin, half-listening to them banter while organizing mission notes. A familiar name drifted into the conversation.

“I’m just saying,” Shachi smirked, “if Captain has a secret admirer, it’s gotta be someone on board. Who else could handle that grump 24/7?”

“Yeah, right. Can you imagine anyone confessing to Law?” Penguin snorted.

Your hand froze over the page, heart thudding. You gave a weak chuckle, trying to stay casual.

“…I think he’s different than people think,” you said quietly.

The two fell silent, glancing at each other before looking back at you. “Different how?” Shachi asked.

You stared down at your notes, unsure why you were still speaking. “He’s cold sometimes, yeah, but there’s a reason. He’s… carrying a lot. But underneath that, he’s kind. Steady. I admire him. I love him, actually.”

You didn’t notice the door slightly ajar—or the shadow that had paused just outside. Law, on his way to the infirmary, heard every word. He didn’t move. Just stood there, stunned, your voice echoing quietly in his chest like a scalpel carving into old scar tissue.

——

Later that night, you found yourself sitting near the back of the ship, watching the stars shimmer through the porthole. You didn’t expect company—until his footsteps neared.

“Working late?” Law asked, standing behind you.

You turned, startled. “Oh. Hey. Yeah. Just… couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t sit. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, and added, “Neither could I.”

You nodded slowly. There was something unusual in his gaze—measured, intense. Like he was holding back words with every breath.

“I heard you,” he said bluntly. “In the galley.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

He didn’t look away. “You said you loved me.”

The silence stretched long between you. Your breath caught in your throat.

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

“You meant it though,” Law interrupted. “Didn’t you?”

“…Yeah,” you whispered. “I did.”

He stepped forward. Just one step, but it felt like a line being crossed. His voice softened. “Why?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Why me?” His tone was flat, but his eyes betrayed the storm behind them. “Why would anyone… love me?”

You swallowed hard. “You’re strong. Not just in power—emotionally. You always show up. You carry so much but never drop any of it. And you… you protect people. You saved me more than once, Law. You care, even when you act like you don’t.”

He looked away sharply.

“You don’t have to earn it,” you added quietly. “Love doesn’t work like that.”

His breath hitched.

Law didn’t answer for a long time. Then, quietly:

“You sound like him.”

You blinked. “Who?”

He sat down at last, elbows on his knees, eyes far away. “Corazon. He told me once, I didn’t need a reason to be loved. That someone could love me just because.”

“…He was right.”

Law’s hand twitched. “I hated hearing it back then. Thought it was a lie. After he died… I convinced myself I wasn’t meant for that kind of thing. Not after what I did to survive.”

You looked at him—truly looked. His jaw was tense, but his shoulders were slumped like someone carrying too many ghosts.

“Sengoku told me, after everything… that Corazon loved me like family. And I kept asking myself why. Why me? Why would he care so much? I’ve been so bad to him. Even now, I still don’t know.”

Law leaned back against the wall, head tilted up toward the ceiling.

“You know,” he said, “I used to think if I kept everything locked up, it wouldn’t hurt. That if no one knew what I felt, no one could use it against me.”

“That’s a lonely way to live,” you whispered.

“It was.” His voice was quieter now. “Until you.”

You inhaled sharply, heart catching in your throat.

“I’ve been watching you too, Y/N. I always noticed when you sat closer during meals. Or brought coffee when I was holed up for hours. You always knew when to say something—and when not to.”

He looked over at you now, eyes unreadable but softer than you’d ever seen.

“You’re not a secret I want to keep locked away anymore.”

The words hit you like a wave. “Law…”

He stood slowly, stepped in front of you, and reached out—hesitating just for a breath—before his fingers gently cupped your face.

“I’m not good at this,” he said. “But I want to try. With you.”

Your eyes stung with tears you hadn’t realized were forming. “You’re already doing just fine.”

His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, then fuller, deeper. You melted into him, and he kissed you like someone who finally let the gates fall. When he pulled away, he stayed close, forehead resting against yours.

“No more secrets,” he whispered.

——

Zoro

The fight had been brutal. Zoro, despite his immense strength and endurance, had taken a hit he couldn’t recover from quickly. Blood stained his clothes, and the crew had rushed to stabilize him, quickly patching him up as best they could on the ship.

You were a wreck. Despite being part of the crew for so long, despite the battles, seeing him hurt like this… it was too much for you to handle. You were pacing back and forth near the medical room, your heart in your throat as your mind raced with worst-case scenarios. Nami and Robin stood nearby, trying to comfort you, but nothing could settle the growing panic inside.

“I—I can’t do this,” you muttered, wiping away the fresh tears that had formed. “What if—what if he doesn’t make it?”

Robin placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, her voice soothing, but there was an undercurrent of concern there too. “Zoro’s strong. He’s not going anywhere.”

But you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop worrying, couldn’t stop the tears from falling. Your chest ached at the thought of him not making it through this.

Nami’s voice, usually so steady, was now quieter, though there was still a reassuring edge. “You need to calm down. He’s tough. Zoro will pull through.”

But no matter how much they tried to comfort you, the fear was too overwhelming. You couldn’t stop thinking about the worst outcome—what it would be like to lose him. How he was always so strong, always so dependable, and yet, this time, you weren’t sure it would be enough.

“Please,” you whispered through your sobs, barely audible but full of pain. “Please don’t leave me, Zoro. I love you… I love you so much. I can’t lose you.”

You didn’t realize how loudly you’d said it. You were too caught up in the panic, in the fear of losing him, that the words just spilled out without thinking.

In the shadows of the hallway, hidden from your view, Zoro had heard everything. He had been leaning against the doorframe, trying to muster the strength to stand up on his own after the injury, when your words reached him. At first, he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you correctly. But when you repeated it, in that broken, desperate tone, he felt the weight of your confession hit him like a freight train.

He stood there, frozen for a long moment, a strange mix of emotions swirling within him. His heart thudded in his chest, and for a moment, everything felt overwhelming—more so than the injury itself.

——

Zoro had managed to make his way to the deck quietly, not wanting to disturb you. He needed a moment to process what he’d heard. But it wasn’t just the words that had shaken him—it was how much they revealed. How deeply you cared, how much you were hurting, how afraid you were for him.

He’d always known you cared for him. You had always been there for him, quietly supporting him, and he’d grown fond of your presence more than he ever intended. But hearing it like this, in a moment of vulnerability, brought something to the surface that he had spent so long suppressing.

The wound on his side throbbed painfully, but it wasn’t the physical pain that weighed him down. It was your words. The quiet admission that you loved him. Zoro leaned against the railing, trying to clear his head, but the ache in his chest wasn’t going away.

Meanwhile, you had secluded yourself in your room. The crew had calmed down enough to leave you some space, but you couldn’t stop thinking about Zoro. You kept replaying the words over and over in your head, cursing yourself for letting them slip. You didn’t want to burden him.

But what if he didn’t feel the same? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and you hugged your knees to your chest, your face buried in your arms.

——

It wasn’t long before there was a knock at your door. You didn’t want to face anyone, but the soft voice that called your name made you hesitate.

“Y/N? It’s me. Can I come in?”

Your heart jumped in your chest. You didn’t have to ask who it was. You stood and opened the door to find Zoro standing there, looking tired but determined. His clothes were stained with blood, and his usual carefree posture was slightly off, but there was something in his eyes that made you freeze.

“You shouldn’t be up yet,” you said, voice cracking. “You’re injured. You need rest.”

Zoro smirked, but there was no usual arrogance in it—just a tired, soft kind of affection. “I’m fine. I’m not the type to stay in bed when I’m still breathing.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Zoro cut you off before you could speak.

“Listen,” he began, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, “you don’t need to apologize for what you said earlier.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Zoro, I didn’t—”

“Don’t deny it.” Zoro took a step closer, his hand reaching out and gently lifting your chin so that your eyes met. “I heard you.”

You swallowed, heart racing. His gaze was intense, but it wasn’t cold. It wasn’t distant. It was something more—something you hadn’t dared to hope for. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

Zoro’s fingers brushed lightly against your skin, his touch warm and reassuring. “You don’t have to apologize. I just—” he hesitated, his usual tough exterior faltering for just a moment, “I need to say it too.”

You blinked, your heart thumping painfully in your chest. “Say what?”

Zoro’s eyes softened, his usual guarded nature slipping just slightly. “I’ve known for a while now. I’ve just been too stubborn to admit it to myself. But I care about you too. I think… I think I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, neither of you moved. You were both standing there, both finally facing what had always been there but had remained unsaid.

“I—I love you too, Zoro,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I was just too scared to say it.”

Zoro’s lips tugged into a faint, almost shy smile. Then, without another word, he closed the distance between you and kissed you softly, his hand still gently holding your face. The kiss was slow, tender, filled with everything that had been left unspoken for so long.

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “I’m not going anywhere. Not if you’ll have me.”

And at that moment, everything fell into place.

——

a/n: my first ever multi-character fic phew that’s challenging! haha hope you guys like it ♡ feedbacks are greatly appreciated xoxo

[heavenlybodies333]

Viagra, really? - S.R

Spencer Reid x coworker!reader

All you'd wanted was to satisfy a dumb curiosity—whether or not Viagra had an effect on women. It wasn’t like you were going to pop a whole pill and throw yourself at the next human being in sight. It was just a fun, stupid experiment for a boring Wednesday afternoon. You’d split the dose in half, dropped one into each of two steaming cups of black coffee—one for you, one for JJ—and left them on your desk while you stepped away to make Dr. Spencer Fucking Reid his usual. Like you did everyday.

The man had a freakish internal clock—he always took his second coffee at exactly 3:17 PM. You were the one who usually made it for him, and this time, that was your downfall. You had left your desk to go make his usual cup, completely forgetting you’d left the two tainted ones sitting there.

When you walked back in, everything went to hell. JJ looked chipper, a little pink in the cheeks, sipping from one of the cups. Spencer was holding the other spiked one. You stared at the third cup in your hand, the safe, non-Viagra-laced cup you’d made specifically for him, and your stomach dropped.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

He noticed you staring, eyes narrowing behind those glasses.“What?”

“Nothing!” you blurted, voice too high, too guilty. “Just—coffee. You know. Love it. Can’t live without it.” JJ gave you a sidelong glance over her cup, one eyebrow rising looking over at Reid, who of course, had already half-finished the drink.

Fifteen minutes later, he shifted in his seat. Twenty minutes in, he tugged at his tie. Cleared his throat. His cheeks were flushed. You didn’t want to believe it was happening, but it was.

The Viagra was definitely working.

At twenty-five minutes, Spencer Reid stopped typing mid-sentence. His hands froze over the keyboard. His brows knitted in concentration, he glanced at you. His expression unreadable. Then he stood abruptly. His chair rolled back. His hand pressed low to his stomach—almost reflexively—and he muttered, “I need to step out.”

You blinked. “What?” But he didn’t answer. He was already halfway to the hallway bathroom. You turned slowly to JJ. She looked back at you. Eyes wide. “Did he just—?”

“He drank yours,” you hissed. JJ nearly choked. “Then who—?”

“I have his.” You looked at the untouched cup beside you. “You took mine. He took yours.” JJ snorted so hard she had to cover her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“This isn’t funny!” you whisper-yelled.

“I can’t believe you accidentally drugged Reid!”

“I didn’t drug him! I—okay, technically, yes, I—” You groaned. “JJ. I gave Spence a goddamn boner pill.” You dropped your face into your hands.

It took him thirty-six minutes to come back. And when he did? You knew immediately. Because he knew. His eyes landed on you with laser precision. He didn’t speak, not at first. He just walked—calmly, slowly—over to your desk. You looked up, throat dry.

“You wanna tell me,” he said angrily hushed, “why I just spent half an hour in the men’s room trying to hide a completely inexplicable erection?”

You stared at him before looking around for JJ to be your saving grace, of course that bitch was nowhere to be found. “Spencer, I can explain—”

“Can you?” His voice was low, sharp. “Because the only logical explanation is that someone laced my coffee with sildenafil citrate.”

You winced. “We were just—curious. JJ and I.”

His jaw ticked. “We?”

“Look, I wasn’t trying to—” You fumbled. “It was for JJ and me! I made two cups, left them on my desk, and then went to get your usual—”

“And you didn’t think to label them?” His voice cracked at the end, furious and scandalized. “You didn’t think to mention the presence of a powerful vasodilator in the office kitchen?”

“Okay, you’re being dramatic.”

“I am hard in trousers I can’t stand up in.”

You bit your bottom lip. “Oh my God, Spencer—”

“Don’t use that tone—like I’m the one in the wrong here.”

You were fighting a laugh. He looked so mad, and so flushed, and so painfully, obviously turned on.

His slacks betrayed him completely. The sharp cut of his jacket couldn’t hide the tension in his body, couldn’t cover the way he shifted, subtle and controlled, like every move was an effort not to feel too much.

“Are you seriously mad at me?” you asked, voice low, eyes darting around.

He leaned in, his mouth near your ear. “I’m hard,” he whispered, “and I’ve been hard for forty-five minutes. You drugged me. You think this is funny?”

You swallowed. “No.” But your voice said otherwise.

“It’s not funny,” you said, grinning. “It’s just—”

“What?” His voice dropped. “It’s what?” He just sat there, visibly hard, visibly panicking, eyes darting toward his lap like his own body was betraying him in real time.

“Reid,” you whispered, “do you want me to take you somewhere private?”

“I—uh—what? No. I mean, yes, I just—” He exhaled sharply and pressed the heels of his palms into his thighs, like that would help the situation. “This is not... I don’t normally feel like this. Not around you. I mean, not because of you. Not—not that I don’t find you attractive, because you’re very attractive, obviously. It’s just—I wasn’t prepared for this. You dosed me.”

You tried not to laugh. “I didn’t dose you, I made a coffee laced with a questionable pharmaceutical as a joke for JJ, and you drank it.”

His eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t make it better.”

“No,” you agreed, biting your lip. “But it does make it kind of hot.”

He gawked. “Hot?”

You leaned in, your voice hushed. “You. Like this. All flustered and mad and trying really hard to pretend you're not turned on in front of me.”

He made a wounded, embarrassed sound and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh my god. You’re enjoying this.”

You tilted your head. “A little.”

“I could report you to HR,” he muttered, though it had no real bite. His cheeks were flushed, jaw tight with discomfort and... something else. He refused to meet your eyes.

“And what would you say?” you teased gently. “‘She accidentally gave me a hard-on in the middle of the bullpen and then looked too hot about it?’”

He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “You’re the worst.” you noticed he didn’t move away when you inched a little closer, nor did he stop you when you rested your hand lightly on his knee.

He looked down at it. Then up at you. And his voice cracked a little when he asked, “What... are you doing?”

You smiled. “Making it up to you.”

“You can’t just—just seduce your way out of this,” he stammered. “This is medical. Physiological. I—I’m experiencing venous occlusion and—and increased nitric oxide—”

“God, even flustered, you’re the most ridiculously hot person I’ve ever met,” you muttered, half to yourself.

He stared at you, lips parted. “Are you serious right now?”

You nodded, still smiling. “Dead serious.”

“You don’t have to do anything, Spence,” you said softly. “Just come with me. Somewhere private. I’ll take care of it.”

He hesitated. Eyes searching yours like he was weighing every possible outcome. Then he stood suddenly, stiffly, clearly trying to adjust himself without making it worse.

He stared at you. Then he looked toward Hotch’s office. Empty. Toward the hallway. Quiet. Back at you.

He grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to register it. He pulled you down the hallway, fast and quiet, past the copier, past the tech room, past the old conference wing. His grip was hot and firm around your wrist

You knew where he was going before you saw the door: Storage 4C – Surplus Tech.

Dead zone. No cameras. Half the time even Garcia forgot it existed. He pulled you in. Shut the door. Locked it. Watching him pace in a tight circle, he looked like he might combust.

“This is insane,” he said. “I’ve got dopamine overload, I can’t think straight, my pants—” He gestured wildly toward his zipper. “I can’t even sit down like this.”

You took a slow step toward him. “Then don’t sit down.” He opened his mouth—probably to ask what the hell you meant—but before he could speak, you dropped to your knees.

“Wh—what are you—” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, sharp and panicked.

You looked up through your lashes, palms dragging slowly up the backs of his thighs. “You said you didn’t know what to do, right? So let me.” You reached up to undo his belt, watching the muscles in his stomach tighten beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“You don’t have to—” he choked out.

“I want to,” you said simply.

He made a soft, moan when you freed him from the confines of his slacks—thick and flushed, already straining with pressure. The tip was leaking, glistening, and you could tell just how sensitive he was by the way his thighs trembled the second your breath ghosted over his skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Oh my god.” You wrapped your fingers around the base and leaned in, licking a slow, teasing stripe up the underside of his cock. His whole body jolted.

One hand shot out instinctively and tangled in your hair, the other hovered helplessly in the air like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His head tipped back against the wall, breath ragged.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

You smiled around him as you took him into your mouth, slowly, letting him feel the heat, the suction, the way your tongue curled just right. He gasped—a sharp, disbelieving sound—and his hips jerked forward before he forced himself back, muttering a frantic, “Sorry—sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You moaned around him in response, letting him know you liked it, and the sound dragged another whimper out of him.

He looked down at you, his face flushed, his lips parted, his expression somewhere between awe and desperation. His fingers tightened in your hair again when you took him deeper, your throat relaxing around him.

“God, you’re—” He cut off with a moan, teeth digging into his lower lip. “You feel... fuck, you feel so good.”

You bobbed your head slowly, deliberately, watching him unravel. He was panting now, trying and failing to keep it together. His knees buckled slightly and his grip in your hair more needy.

“I’m—I can’t—” he stammered, trying to pull you back gently. “You—you have to stop or I’m gonna—”

You hummed low in your throat, and that was it. His cock twitched in your mouth as he came. you sucked harder, mouth still wrapped around him, swallowing everything, hands steady on his hips while he sagged against the wall,

You let him go with one last slow drag of your tongue, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand like it was just another Tuesday.

His eyes were still closed when you stood. Like he couldn’t quite process as you leaned in close, your voice a whisper at his ear, “I said I’d fix it,” you murmured, “consider us even.” And then you turned and walked out—leaving him dazed, pants half-open, jaw slack, completely wrecked in the supply closet of the BAU.

No shame. Just the soft sound of your boots against the tile, echoing back to him

Spencer Reid didn’t move for a full five minutes. And when he finally did, all he could say was: “…Holy shit.”

a/n: omfg it’s confirmed Matthew is coming back for season 18 of criminal minds im losing my shit

⋆•★⋆ MASTERLIST ⋆★•⋆

[vunblr]

A Star Without a Sky (#2)

Pairing: Sheriff! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff. Slow Burn. Smut.

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Word Count: About 6.7k.

Previous Chapter

When she came back to retrieve the plate, he was already halfway to sleep, with heavy eyelids, slow and shallow breathing. The enamel dish rested on his lap, spotless. Not a drop left.

“Oh, you managed to eat it all. Any repercussions?” she asked, her voice a hush in the low-lit room as she picked up the tray.

His lashes lifted just enough to reveal the pale blue underneath. “No, ma’am. Just-” But the rest of the sentence faded off, swallowed by the weight of his exhaustion.

“Alright,” she murmured, setting the tray on the nightstand. “Let’s get you laid down proper.”

“S’not necessary,” he rasped, barely audible. “Can sleep sittin’. Be best if-”

“Nonsense.” Her hands were already at his shoulder, and one at his waist. She didn’t wait for permission. “Your back’ll be stiff as oak in the morning if you stay like that.”

He let out a rough sound -half breath, half groan- as she coaxed him down, his muscles tense with resistance. “Stubborn woman,” he slurred, somewhere between reproach and resignation.

She didn’t answer. Just kept working, tucking a pillow beneath his head, checking the bandage with gentle pressure along his side. The dressing held. No fresh bleed. That was enough.

“All good,” she muttered, mostly to herself, pulling the sheet and blankets up to his chest. Her hand lingered a moment, resting over the quilt. Then she looked at him.

“You feel cold?”

His head moved, barely a shake.

“You sure? No need to play at being made of iron.”

That got a twitch of his mouth. Almost a smile. “Never been buried under this many layers in my life,” he murmured. “Can’t complain. You’re spoilin’ me rotten.”

She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t argue. “Alright then. Good night, Sheriff.” The lamp’s glow dimmed with a twist of her fingers, leaving him to rest.

As she walked back to the kitchen, tray in hand, her lips pressed into a line.

Spoilin’, he’d said. Her bed had two wool blankets, a patchwork quilt stitched by her aunt long before the war, and clean sheets that smelled faintly of soap. There was nothing special about it. Nothing soft enough to call luxury.

Unless, of course, you’d spent too many nights without a bed at all.

----

A scream tore through the night.

She jolted upright, with her heart hammering, and her breath caught high in her throat. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was -what time, what room- but then her mind caught up to her body. The sound had come from the master bedroom. Him.

She was up and moving before she had time to think, striking a match with trembling fingers, shielding the lamp glass as the flame caught. The hallway stretched long and narrow in the flickering light. The door was ajar.

Inside, the sheriff twisted beneath the patchwork quilt, slick with sweat. His breath came ragged through clenched teeth, and small, broken sounds escaped his lips, fragments of something no language could hold.

A nightmare. A vicious one.

She hovered at the threshold. Someone told her once, Don’t touch the person right away. Don’t call loudly. You never know how a man might wake from such a state. She hesitated only a breath before stepping forward, setting the lamp on the nightstand, and sitting carefully at his side on the mattress.

Her hand gently found his shoulder. “Sheriff Barn- James.”

No answer, just a low groan, and his brow twisted like he was being carved from the inside.

She moved her hand down his arm, in slow circles. “It’s just a dream,” she whispered. “You’re alright. Wake up now.”

His eyes snapped open.

Wild and glassy, pupils dilated as they darted around the room like he was searching for a threat. She didn’t move, but let her hand drop to her lap. “You’re alright,” she said quietly. “It’s over. You’re safe.”

His chest rose and fell fast, then slowed as something clicked behind his eyes. He pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead, hard.

“Fuck-” The word rasped out before he caught himself. “sorry.”

She gave a soft laugh. “I’m not the type to faint over a curse, Sheriff.” He nodded once, fixing his eyes on the ceiling like he didn’t want to meet hers. “You want a glass of water?” she asked, gently.

He nodded again. Still not looking.

She remained seated a moment long before rising, bed sheets sighing beneath her as she stood. As she walked away, he clenched his fists beneath the quilt, trying to calm his breath.

It had been years since that particular memory came back to haunt him.

That place. That goddamn place.

When she slipped out of the room, he closed his eyes again. Not to sleep, but to chase the dream back. It clung to him. Its weight, its filth. It was years ago, but the air still tasted the same in his throat when he woke up. Damp wood, rusted iron. Straw soaked in blood. He’d forgotten the name of the man who held the whip, but not the sound it made. Not the smell of the cellar.

He breathed deeply. Tried to remember where he was.

A bed. A room. A quilt that smelled of lavender and woodsmoke. And her.

She returned quietly, soft steps on the wood floor, with the glow of the lamp sliding along the walls like water. In one hand, she held a glass. In the other, a small plate with something dark and glinting on it.

He shifted a little, lifting himself with a grunt, pressing his back against the headboard. His eyes flicked down to the offering. A dried plum, sugared and shining like a dark jewel on porcelain.

She sat again, with her knees just brushing the edge of his blanket. She handed him the water first. He drank slowly, grateful clean taste in his mouth. Then he looked at the plate.

“A plum?”

Her eyes flicked down. “Sugared. My ma used to give me one when I had a nightmare. Said it helped chase the bad things off.” Her voice was soft, and something about the way she looked down, not quite embarrassed but not fully confident, caught him off guard.

“I appreciate the thought.” He set the empty glass on the nightstand and took the plum with two fingers. He turned it once, grazing the sugar crust with his thumb, then slipped it into his mouth.

Sweetness bloomed slowly across his tongue. Rich. Dark. A softness he hadn’t tasted in years, maybe ever. He’d eaten food on the road that didn’t even deserve the word. This… this was something different. This was kindness, disguised.

He blinked down at the plate and cleared his throat. “I’ve never had one before.”

She gave the faintest smile. “There’s more in the tin by the hearth.”

He gave a noncommittal grunt, but didn’t look away from her this time. Just leaned back against the pillows, with the taste still on his tongue, foreign and warm. Something about the offering felt larger than it was. Too small to matter, too tender not to.

She let her hand brush lightly against his as she took the plate, casual but not accidentally.

“Good night, Sheriff. Try to get some more sleep,” she said gently as she stood.

He gave a slow nod, but his gaze followed her. Not obviously, not hungrily. She reached for the lamp, its warm light catching on the sheen of her hair, loose now for the night. The neckline of her nightdress had slipped a touch lower when she leaned forward earlier, showing a hint of collarbone. He hadn’t meant to look, but the image was scorched into his mind now, as unwanted and persistent as any fever dream.

She didn’t notice. Or if she did, she gave him the grace of pretending not to.

She turned down the wick until the lamp dimmed and lifted it by the hook. At the door, she hesitated. Then slipped into the hallway, softly shutting the door beside her.

He stared at the ceiling, letting out a long breath. Dragged a hand down his face, trying hard not to think about the glimpse of skin he'd caught or the way her loose hair framed her face just as he thought it would, or how she hadn’t hesitated to touch him when he was shaking and desperate. The plum’s sweetness remained in his mouth.

----

By the fourth morning since he’d woken, she rose before the sun had fully cleared the horizon. The house still held the hush of sleep, save for the soft groan of timber and the distant, half-hearted cluck of a hen not ready to greet the cold. She slipped on her day dress, wrapped her shawl tightly around her shoulders, and moved toward the stove, planning to start the fire to make breakfast.

As she passed the doorway to the master bedroom, she paused -a habit, by now- and glanced inside.

The bed was empty.

The covers were thrown back haphazardly, his pillow bearing the faintest dip from where his head had rested. She furrowed her brow and turned to glance around the kitchen, also empty. No sound of boots, no cough, no shifting of furniture.

Her stomach dropped with worry. She clenched her hand on her shawl and flung the door open in one smooth motion, and cold air bit at her skin.

He was outside.

Near the coop, sleeves rolled to the elbow, coat forgotten somewhere, chopping wood like the devil himself was in pursuit. His movements were efficient, but he was slower than he should be. Too careful. Every swing came with a slight hitch in his breath.

Her boots crunched across the frost-kissed ground.

“Are you insane?” she snapped, storming toward him with her shawl fluttering behind her like a snapped flag.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look up immediately. Just drove the axe down one more time, splitting a stubborn knot with a grunt. Only then did he lift his head, sweat dampening the locks at his temples.

“Morning to you, too, ma’am,” he said, unbothered.

She folded her arms tightly over her chest. “You're barely a week since you got shot. You could tear something inside. Reopen the wound. Pass out and split your skull-”

He huffed, more breath than laugh, and leaned on the axe handle. “Figured I’d earn my keep since I can stand.”

“You’re recovering,” she said, stepping closer. Her hand reached out to brush a stray woodchip off his shirt. She didn’t think about it before doing it. “Not laboring. That’s what healing is. Let me see.”

He didn’t argue, just let her lift the edge of his shirt, gently checking the bandage under it. It was stained a little, but dry. No heat under the gauze. Still, too much strain would tear everything back open.

They stood close, breath curling in the cold air between them. His skin was warm beneath her touch, solid.

“You’re shivering,” he murmured.

She pulled back like he’d struck her. “You’re the one half-dressed in the snow,” she snapped, more embarrassed than angry. “Do you think I need kindling that badly?”

He didn’t answer. Just looked at her like she’d said something peculiar.

“I think,” he said eventually, “your tenant should’ve shown up to do it already.”

She huffed. “If you don’t get back inside this house right now, sheriff, I swear you’re getting nothing for breakfast. And I mean it.”

He muttered something under his breath as he passed by her, brushing snow off his trousers with stiff fingers. She caught the faintest smirk on his lips before it vanished.

She followed him inside and pointed at the chair at the head of the table with a sharp tilt of her chin. “You sit. Don’t move unless it’s to eat.”

He did as told, sitting with a faint grunt, hands flat on the table like he wasn’t entirely sure how to rest.

“Had ranch foremen less bossy than you,” he murmured.

She didn’t turn. “And I bet they didn’t save your life while elbow-deep in blood.”

He tilted his head, a wry half-smile creeping at the edge of his mouth. “Fair point.”

The scent of frying bacon and warm bread came to his nose, and he sighed. He watched her move about the kitchen, the occasional creak of the floorboards under her feet, the soft rustle of her skirts, domestic sounds, nice sounds. Sounds he didn’t know he craved.

He cleared his throat, glanced at the hearth, then back at her. “Don’t suppose that plum trick works for grown men in the morning, too?”

She glanced over her shoulder, arching a brow sharp enough to cut butter. “Did you just call me a nightmare, Sheriff Barnes?”

“I would never, ma’am,” he said, slow and smooth, a crooked smile tugging at one corner of his mouth like mischief trying to surface.

“Good,” she replied, turning back to the stove. “Because if I were, you’d still be screaming.”

----

It was strange, seeing the head of the table occupied again.

She’d grown used to quiet breakfasts. To the silence of her own company. A single plate, a single mug, the occasional thump of a woodpecker on the siding. But now, there he sat.

Sheriff Barnes. With his shoulders drawn in like he didn’t quite trust the chair not to break beneath him. Elbows tucked close, and deliberate movements. A man not used to being watched while he ate.

He worked slowly through his plate, pausing after each bite like he was trying to remember how a man was supposed to eat among company. After the second forkful, he glanced at her grip on her utensil, then subtly adjusted his own.

When she reached out to offer more, he hesitated. Cast his eyes down with a flicker of indecision as he glanced at what remained on his plate.

“I won’t be offended if you want seconds,” she said lightly, watching him over the rim of her mug. “You paid for this food, Sheriff.”

He didn’t meet her eyes, but one corner of his mouth twitched, wry, self-deprecating. “Don’t want to impose.”

“You’re not.” She was already reaching for the pan. “That body needs all the nourishment it can get.”

As soon as the words left her lips, she stilled. So did he.

His head tilted ever so slightly, though his gaze stayed fixed on the table. The tips of his ears and his cheeks pinked under the stubble at his jaw. She busied herself with the spatula.

“For recovery,” she added, a touch too quickly.

He gave a faint nod and held out his plate in silent surrender. Still didn’t look at her. Just watched the checkered cloth like it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

She refilled the plate and set it in front of him with care. He murmured something that might’ve been “thanks,” but it barely made it past his throat.

After that, they ate in a comfortable silence. Just the clink of cutlery, the low sizzle from the stove. The wind brushing the windows in slow, sleepy passes.

It was Bucky who broke it first.

“Given I can stand and walk, and that woodpile didn’t kill me… reckon I’d be fine to ride. If I take it slow.”

She looked up. He wasn’t looking at her, just nudging a bit of egg across the plate like it might offer him an easier way to speak.

“I’m headin’ back to town tomorrow,” he added quietly.

She blinked. Toast halfway to her mouth.

“Oh,” she said softly. “I see.”

His fork paused mid-motion. “Been gone too long. Folks’ll start thinkin’ I ran off. Or got myself buried somewhere.”

She nodded once, pressing her lips into a small, tight line. “Makes sense. I’ll take you, then.”

“I was thinking of borrowing the mare. Ride her in. Come back later with the stallion.”

“That’s a lot of riding, Sheriff.” Her voice didn’t rise, but there was something in it now. Something firm. “Even if you’re feeling spry, that body’s still healing. Let me take you in the cart.”

He finally looked at her.

His brow twitched. “They’ll see us. Together. And like you said, people talk.”

She gave a dry little smile, brushing a crumb off the table. “We say I found you on the road. Headed into town for supplies. Gave you a ride. That’s all.”

He studied her face for a long moment. “You thought that up quick.”

She shrugged, folding her hands in her lap to still the fidgeting. “I’ve lived here long enough to know how to preempt a rumor. It’s a fine story. Neat. Believable.”

His jaw clenched, and something unreadable shifted in his eyes. “You don’t mind?”

She tilted her head. “Mind what?”

“That folks might think… something improper.”

The silence that followed was a breath too long.

“I know what I did. And you know what happened. I can live with the rest. I’m a widow, not a schoolgirl,” she said, in an even tone. “If I gave half a damn what people thought, I wouldn’t live out here alone with a shotgun and a few fruit trees.”

He huffed a breath through his nose. Not quite a laugh. Still, his eyes didn’t lift. He stared down at the edge of his plate, curling his fingers around the mug.

“Even so,” he said, softer, “I’d rather not have your name tangled up with mine.”

She watched him, then set her cup down with a gentle clink. “Well, it’s too late for that, Sheriff. You’ve been sleeping in my bed.”

He choked on his coffee.

Coughed hard, raising his fist to cover his mouth like he could maybe disappear behind it. The flush that climbed to his ears was impossible to miss.

“Right,” he rasped. “I- uh. That’s- true.”

She sipped from her mug, calm as anything. “Now that you’re better,” she said, almost absently, “can you tell me what happened to you?”

Across the table, he stiffened just a little, pausing his fork mid-air before he set it down neatly beside the plate. He looked at her, but not quite, more through her than at her.

“Was following a lead,” he said after a beat. “Cattle robbers. Had reason to believe they’d been riding east, crossing property lines without much concern.” He paused. “I think a few stayed behind to make sure I didn’t keep following. Or maybe…” His voice quieted. “Someone else used the distraction to take their chance. Either way…”

His jaw flexed.

She nodded once. “Is that something that happens… often?”

A faint crease appeared between his brows. “No,” he said. “I’m usually the one doin’ the tracking, not the one getting left in the snow.”

He tried for a chuckle -soft, empty- but it dissolved before it reached his throat. “Maybe I’m just getting old.”

“Is that so?” she asked, lightly. “How old are you, Sheriff?”

He hesitated. More than a moment.

“I don’t know.”

She blinked. “You don’t…?”

“Grew up in an orphanage.” He didn’t look at her. Just traced the edge of the mug with one thumb. “Nobody there cared enough to mark the day. As far as I know, I was six when I arrived. Maybe seven.”

Her expression softened, but she didn’t reach for pity.

“For what they told me,” he added, “I figure I’m thirty-something.”

“Well, that ain’t old.”

He snorted faintly. “Ain’t young either.”

“I’m thirty this year.” Her brow rose. “You callin’ me a hag?”

That startled something out of him, an actual look. His head lifted, his eyes widened. “No, ma’am. No. I- certainly not.”

She tilted her head, teasing. “Mm. My ego’s bruised now.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Tell you what,” she cut in, grinning. “You do the dishes, and you’re pardoned.”

He stared at her for a beat, then leaned back in his chair, twitching his lips. “Ma’am,” he murmured, “you are cunning.”

She stood up and walked toward the counter, dish in hand. Then turned slightly. “You know what, Sheriff?” she said, gently. “Call me by my name.”

His brow furrowed.

“You’re leaving soon,” she said. “But still. Feels strange, hearing ‘ma’am’ this, ‘ma’am’ that. After all that’s happened.”

She turned back toward the counter, but not before she caught the flicker of hesitation in his eyes.

He cleared his throat quietly. “Alright.”

She slid a plate into the basin, and the water sloshed faintly.

“Alright, what?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder with a raised brow.

He sat very still for a beat, then ducked his head, the faintest curl of a smirk on his lips. His voice came low, a little rough.

“…Alright, Y/n.”

----

He never asked.

Not once.

But he watched. Not directly -never- but he noticed things. The way she muttered to herself when the drawer stuck, pulling at it frustrated with tight fingers. How she shook her head when the shutter didn’t catch again, clicking her tongue softly before she walked off with a basket on her hip. He’d hear the sigh when the pump handle needed coaxing, see the look on her face when she leaned over the gate, checking if the wood had held.

And then, quietly, he moved.

She’d step into the kitchen and find the drawer gliding smoothly, like it had never stuck a day in its life. The shutter would stay closed with a firm, satisfying click. The fence post would be upright again, reinforced with fresh nails and rope that hadn’t been there yesterday.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t remain nearby to be thanked. Just nodded once, maybe, when she noticed.

Sometimes, she’d catch him rubbing his ribs after hammering something into place. And she’d frown. He’d meet her look with blank eyes and a face so still it bordered on stubborn. Like he hadn’t done a thing worth scolding.

That afternoon, she caught him stepping back inside, sleeves damp from washing, his hair shoved behind his ears in loose, dark waves. He paused when he saw her.

“You know, Sheriff,” she said, resting one hand on the table, “I appreciate the diligence. Creeping around like a fix-it sprite, patching up every squeaky hinge and crooked thing in this house…”

He stood still, blinking once.

“…but there’s no need to strain yourself, really.”

He scratched the back of his neck, brushing the edge of his collar with his thumb. “Don’t like sittin’ still. Don’t like feelin’ useless.”

His tone was flat, but the flick of his fingers through his hair betrayed something else, unease, maybe. A fight not with her, but something else.

“Mm,” she said, not arguing. “You’re heading back to town tomorrow, trying to play whole again. Maybe take it easy today.”

He glanced toward the window and didn’t answer.

She stepped toward the counter. “Tell you what. If you’re so desperate to be useful, I’ve got three pots of stew and jam to preserve. You can sit down, rest those ribs, and help me jar them.”

He blinked again. “I’ve never done that before.”

“Perfect. I love a good experiment.” Her smile was soft, not teasing. Warm. “Everything’s ready. Just spoon it in, cork the jar, and don’t spill. Think you can handle that, Sheriff?”

He hesitated, just a beat. Then nodded.

“Yes, ma-” He caught himself. Cleared his throat. “Alright.”

----

He’d seen preserves before, lined up behind store windows, or clattering in the back of wagons, sold by traders with half their teeth gone and dirt under their nails. But he never thought about the making. Who poured them. Who watched them cool. Who decided what was sweet enough to keep.

Now, spoon in hand, he stared down at a jar of pears like it might break if he held it wrong. The syrup caught the light, rich gold, and his fingers moved with slow care as he settled the slices inside.

Across the table, she worked by muscle and memory. Smoothly. One ladle or a little more, one glance, cork, cloth, and set it aside. Her hands never paused.

He watched a while longer than he meant to, then cleared his throat.

“You do this often?”

She didn’t glance up. Just nodded. “Every year. I’ve got trees just past the house on the bit of land I kept. Apples, plums. Some late pears. What I don’t eat, I store.”

Another jar sealed, another one ready.

“What’s left over, I sell in town. To Mr. Bell of the store, and to Mrs. Marshall who bakes it into her pies. The meat jars stay here, though. Can’t sell what I have to buy first.”

He nodded faintly, looking to his own jar. He moved more slowly. Less confident. But the scent of syrup and sugar in the air calmed something in him. His hands, usually meant for holsters and reins, adapted without argument. One spoonful at a time.

It was quiet work. Repetitive. Soothing in a way that surprised him.

He wasn’t used to that. Peace that didn’t come with a price.

He set another jar down and wiped a thumb across the rim to keep it clean. The syrup clung warm to his skin.

“It’s…” He paused. Eyes narrowed a little in thought. “It’s nice to do.”

She looked up, finally, and smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

He rolled his sleeves higher to keep them from the syrup, baring the lean muscle of his forearms. Her eyes, without meaning to, caught on the constellation of small, circular scars that patterned the inside of his left arm. Oddly neat, like a trail of punctures stitched in wavering lines. She’d seen them before, faint and pale when she washed his unconscious body days ago, but there was something different now. The skin flexed and came alive over muscle and sinew.

She didn’t glance away when his gaze flicked up and caught her looking.

“That’s an unusual pattern,” she murmured. “Is it all right if I ask what happened there?”

He hesitated. Just the briefest pause. Then, he breathed through his nose. “Spurs,” he said plainly.

She blinked. Furrowed her brow. “Doesn’t look like someone stepped on you.”

He cleared his throat, returning his gaze to the jar like he was making sure every pear landed just right. “Some adoptin’ homes got physical when they wanted to make a lesson to stick. The mister -one of 'em- he didn’t like that I left a horse unswept before sundown. Took one of his spurs and went back and forth ‘til it sank in.”

Her hands stilled, hovering the ladle above the jar. She said nothing at first. Just breathed in through her nose. “How old were you?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Nine? Maybe ten.” Another scoop. Another pear. “Didn’t forget again, though.”

She didn’t look at him with pity. Just moved to gently cork the jar he’d finished, brushing his fingers in the pass.

His hand stilled around the lip of the jar, curling his fingers slightly as though he could still feel rough hands dragging him by the collar through dust and hay. The silence between them thickened until he broke it with the drag of breath through his nose.

"You talk... plurally. About the homes," she noted, her voice was careful, not cautious. Gentle, but not pitying.

He didn’t look at her, just passed the filled jar forward. Her fingers brushed his again.

“The orphanage had too many mouths to feed,” he said finally. “Didn’t care much for the kind of men who came lookin’ for boys to haul hay, run traps, clean stables. Said they were offerin’ an opportunity.”

She was staring at him, he could feel it. He rolled his sleeves further up his arms, leaning his elbows to the table now.

“Harvest season, branding, slaughter, when the work ended, most of us were tossed back like unwanted scraps. Some stayed longer if they worked harder. Or if they didn’t complain.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she said nothing. He went on, with his gaze fixed on the jar.

“You figure out real quick not everyone showin’ up on adoption day is lookin’ for a son or daughter.” His tone was calm, measured, but underneath it, she sensed it. Rage. Old, cold, and buried too deep to thaw.

She swallowed. “Did you... did you ever get a home?” she asked, voice lower than before. “Eventually?”

He was silent for a long beat, raising his shoulders with a slow inhale. “When I was old enough to fend for myself, and the chance came, I ran.”

The rain had started then, soft taps against the windows like hesitant fingers.

“I’m sorry,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “No child deserves to live through that.”

His mouth twitched, neither smile nor scowl. Just a crack in the wall.

A sudden thought popped into her head. “The laundry. Damn it,” she muttered, stepping back from the table. “I left it out.”

Without hesitation, he stood up. She turned toward the door and heard his boots behind her. Outside, the drizzle had thickened, silvering the world. She grabbed the lines, quickly, while he moved beside her, pulling down the damp shirts and twisted sheets.

By the time they stumbled back in, with damp clothes and misted hair, the kitchen smelled like warm pears and rain-drenched wool. She dropped the basket by the stove and turned to him.

He was cradling the last armful of sheets like something fragile, as water beaded on his forearms.

“Well,” she said, trying not to smile, “that was very good teamwork, Sheriff.”

He stood there a second too long, like he didn’t know what to do with himself now. Then he slowly handed her the sheets.

“I didn’t drop a single pin,” he muttered.

She laughed, and the sound made him look up at her. Then his eyes crinkled a little at the corners.

“You’re a natural,” she teased, stepping past him to drape the damp linens over the backs of the chairs and other furniture. “Who knew beneath the brooding lawman, there was a capable housewife just waiting to come out.”

“I’ll have you know I’m still brooding,” he said, straight-faced.

She turned to glance at him over her shoulder, with her hands on her hips, and quirked lips. “That so?”

He nodded once, slowly. “Very broody.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, rinsing water off her fingers, “think all that brooding might ease up a little if I let you eat some of the pears still on the pot?”

He glanced at her from under lowered lashes, then let a crooked smile break across his face. Wry, a little sheepish.

“Can’t promise,” he murmured, “but you can try.”

----

They did try.

After dinner, when the dishes were stacked and the fire had banked low, when the kitchen was settled into its night hush -creaking timbers, cooling stovetop- she leaned back in her chair and stretched.

“I was thinking,” she said, “if I’m dropping you in town tomorrow, we ought to go at an hour I’d usually run errands. Makes it easier to believe I found you on the road.”

He stilled. The spoon in his tea mug made a faint clink against the ceramic rim.

Right. That.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out. The thought caught somewhere behind his tongue.

“I mean,” she continued, casually tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “I usually bring preserves around midmorning. If that works for your great return.”

He nodded, curling his fingers tighter around the mug, then easing as he set it down with more care than necessary.

“You sure you wanna be the one to take me?” he asked. “Told you I could ride. Come back later with the stallion.”

She gave him a knowing look. “You’d still show up in town riding my mare.”

He blinked. Shit. How did he miss that?

“True,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes dropped to the grain of the table.

“Don’t be so serious, Sheriff,” she cheered, nudging his boot lightly under the table. “What could anyone possibly say? I was headed to town, and I found you on foot. Simple. Respectable.”

She leaned forward, almost conspiratorial. “And don’t worry. I won’t ruin your reputation as the town’s most coveted bachelor.”

He looked at her like she’d thrown cold water down his collar. Frowned, shifted in his seat. “That’s not-” His hand dragged through his hair again. “I’m thinkin’ of your reputation.”

She tilted her head, teasing tone falling to something firmer. “Because I gave the sheriff a ride?”

“What’s the harm in that?”

He exhaled. Long. Measured. “You’ll find out sooner or later.”

He didn’t look at her when he said it. But he didn’t need to.

She went still, then leaned on the table with one arm.

He finally looked up, just a flicker.

“Do you know why they hired me?”

“I’d guess not for your jam-stuffing skills,” she offered, voice trying to be humorous, but it faded when he didn’t smile.

“I was a bounty hunter,” he said. “Then a vigilante. Rode with some fellas who figured the law was either too slow or too bought.” He paused. “They weren’t wrong.”

Her eyes didn’t narrow. Her lips didn’t twist.

He went on. “Got caught. I wasn’t proud of what they found. They could’ve hung me. Instead, they gave me a choice. Wear a badge, work out here, keep the dust quiet.”

His thumb ran along the side of his mug again.

“Didn’t seem like anyone else was eager to take the job.”

She pondered it for a moment. “And?”

He blinked, not expecting that. “And?” he echoed.

“Should I be scared of you?” she asked simply.

He stared at her like he couldn’t believe she’d said it that way. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were.”

“Do you regret what you did?” she questioned.

He hesitated. “Some of it. Not all.”

She folded her arms. “You weren’t a bank robber or a rustler. You didn’t hurt women or children. You hunted bad men before someone handed you a badge to make it legal.”

His mouth parted, but nothing came out. His fingers tapped once on the table, then stilled.

“I appreciate you tellin’ me,” she added gently. “But if that was supposed to scare me off, I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed.”

His mouth lifted at one corner, just barely. “Can’t say I’m disappointed.”

“You’re not a monster, Sheriff. Just a man who’s seen too much and did what he thought was right. World’s full of worse.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything, just watched her, unreadable. Then, low and rough, the words spilled out. “Still… some of the townsfolk don’t feel thrilled with my presence.”

She didn’t look away. “For having a sheriff who knows what he’s doing?” she asked, matter-of-factly. “Screw them.”

He blinked. Just once. But it was enough to show he felt that.

“I won’t shy away from being called your friend,” she said. “If that’s something you’re alright with.”

Blue eyes lifted in surprise, searching her gaze. “You’d call me that?”

She tipped her head with the smallest of nods. “You’ve earned it.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. He exhaled through his nose, dropping his gaze briefly to his hands, then back to her.

“Yeah,” he rasped. “That’s more than alright. And... call me Bucky, when it’s the two of us."

"Isn’t your name James?" One brow arched, teasing, just a little sharper than before.

"James Buchanan, ma’-" He caught himself mid-honorific with a huff and a faint shake of his head.

"So, James 'Bucky' Barnes, huh?" she echoed, folding her arms, pretending to weigh it like a choice in the market. “Well, it sounds kind of dangerous.”

That drew the corner of his mouth up, slow and crooked, with a flicker of warmth. “Only to the wrong people.”

“Well, Bucky,” she said pushing up from the chair, exhaling softly, and stretching her arms high over her head. The fabric of her dress pulled snug across her chest, the cotton hugging the curve of her breasts, and he looked. Didn't glance. Looked longer than he should have.

She didn’t notice.

“It’s late,” she murmured, rolling her shoulders loose. “And I’m dyin’ to unpin my hair and get out of these boots.”

He nodded, but didn’t speak, not right away. His eyes trailed the sway of her hips after she turned, the curve of her waist. He imagined her standing in front of the mirror, with her hands at her nape, tugging the pins free one by one, letting her hair fall on her shoulders. Pictured brushing it aside, pressing his mouth against the spot behind her ear, where her pulse would flutter if she let him close. She’d smell like rain and woodsmoke and soft things no one had ever given him.

His jaw clenched. “Good night,” he managed.

She glanced back briefly, then disappeared into the hall.

He stayed rooted in place, flexing his hands against his knees, with the image of her undoing herself still vivid in his mind. He swallowed hard, wishing it were him, wishing he had the right to lean close, to loosen every fastening, to make her sigh his name.

Instead, he sat leaning forward in the dim room, elbows to knees, dragging both hands through his hair, trying not to want.

----

Their breaths curled pale from their mouths in the morning air as they moved around the cart, boots crunching over the brittle ground, fingers red with the cold.

She was fussing, naturally.

“You really shouldn’t be lifting-”

“I’m fine.” Bucky grunted as he set the last box into the back of the cart, arms flexing under his shirt. The crate hit the wood with a dull thud, and he straightened his back slowly, flexing his jaw as a small breath hissed between his teeth.

“Don’t got glass bones,” he muttered, brushing his hands on his thighs.

She gave him a look, crossing her arms under her shawl. “Just because you're made of stubborn doesn’t mean you're healed.”

Still, she didn’t stop him again, just huffed and disappeared into the house. When she returned, it was with a folded wool blanket in her arms, soft leather lining showing at the corners.

“For the legs. Cold’s worse when you're sittin’ still.”

He nodded once, took it from her, barely brushing her fingers in the pass, and put it in the cart. Then he turned and stepped back inside. When he returned, he was a different man.

The sheriff.

Waistcoat snug over a crisp white shirt, and long black coat sweeping his legs like a shadow. He’d strapped on the gun belt, with the holster riding familiarly against his hip, and the brim of his hat cast a shade in his eyes. He looked taller. Dangerous. Distant. She stared for a second too long before she realized she was doing it.

“Well,” she managed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, “I guess I’ll have no trouble selling the story that I found you coming back from a job.”

He didn’t answer, just adjusted the collar of his coat, then looked at her beneath the brim.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he rasped.

She climbed onto the driver’s seat, and he stepped up beside her. She put the blanket over their thighs, and for a heartbeat, there was nothing but the sound of the wind through the bare trees.

Their thighs bumped. She cleared her throat. He didn’t move.

It wasn’t the first time they sat shoulder to shoulder, but somehow it felt different.

The mare clucked forward, hooves biting into the frost-hardened road. As the cart rolled over a rut, the wheel dipped deep, and she tipped sideways with a soft gasp, straight into him.

He caught her without thinking.

One arm came up, firm around her waist, the other bracing against the back of the seat.

She supported herself with her palm on his chest, breath caught halfway in her throat, close enough to feel the heat of his body even through the leather of his coat.

“Sorry,” she said, voice a little thinner than usual.

“S’alright,” he murmured, brushing his thumb once against the curve of her hip before letting go.

She pulled back just enough to sit upright again, but their legs kept still pressed together under the blanket, hip to knee, shoulder to shoulder.

Neither of them moved

It was a small bench. A cold morning. A practical thing.

But his weight beside her, the heat of his body, the scent of pine and saddle soap clinging to him like a second skin, it all felt far from practical.

Every bump on the road rocked them a little closer. Every turn made her more aware of how little space existed between them.

And he didn’t move away. Didn't shift to reclaim distance. Just sat still and quiet, with his gloved hands curled against his knees.

As they rolled toward the outskirts of town, the buildings rose slowly out of the frost, fences and rooftops touched gold by the weak morning light.

She shifted a little, more from nerves than chill, and looked over at him.

“Well… this is it.”

He nodded, adjusting the rifle strap across his chest. “I reckon I told you before,” he said, eyes still fixed ahead, “but I owe you. I don’t forget that kind of thing.”

“Don’t mention it,” she replied. “Any neighbor would’ve done the same.”

“No,” he said, this time turning to look at her. The hat didn’t hide his eyes now. “They wouldn’t. Not like you did.”

Her fingers clenched on the reins.

“If you ever find yourself in trouble,” he continued, his tone rough by something that had nothing to do with the cold, “if anyone gives you trouble, you come find me. Even if you think it’s nothin’.”

She laughed once. “I can’t have the sheriff ridin’ in every time someone forgets their manners-”

“I’m not sayin’ it as the sheriff.” His gaze didn’t waver. “I’m sayin’ it as a man.”

Her voice caught in her throat.

“Okay,” she managed to murmur.

The main street opened before them, busy with the daily rhythm, boots on wood, doors swinging open, the clang of a distant hammer. Heads turned. Some folks nodded politely. Others watched longer than courtesy allowed.

She slowed the mare in front of the sheriff’s office. The wheels creaked to a stop.

He shifted beside her, brushing off the blanket slowly before rising. She felt the space he left behind was too wide.

His boots hit the packed dirt, and he reached into the cart to grab the small sack she’d readied, two jars of pear preserve inside, and some apple pie.

He didn’t look at her at first. Just adjusted the strap of his rifle and touched the brim of his hat.

“Goodbye, ma’am,” he said formally.

She swallowed. Her knuckles whitened on the reins. “Goodbye, Sheriff Barnes.”

He paused. Just for a beat. Like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t know how. His gaze remained on her, not her face, but her silhouette against the morning light.

Then he turned.

His coat flared in the wind as he stepped onto the boardwalk, long and black like a curtain drawing closed. She watched him go, hands still curled on the reins,  still feeling the heat under the blanket where his thigh had been pressed against hers.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @civilbucky @pandaxnienke @whitewolfluvr @webbedwonders @ddrewcameron @globetrotter28 @homiesexual-or-homosexual @maryevm @nojudgmentjustsupport @jaderabbitt @hi172826 @littlesuniee @lonelyghosts-stuff @vxllys @mrsalexstan @winter107soldier

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[a-pute11as]

i like you, dummy - kika nazareth

word count - 4.5k | summary - you were never really sure if kika's flirting was for show or not, until a game of truth or dare and a spurt of confidence gets you your answer.

“kika i’m home!” you announced, walking into your shared apartment and dropping your bag to the floor as you slipped your shoes off. 

you sighed, automatically removing your hair from the tight ponytail you had put it in for training, your kit still clinging to your body as you were desperate to get home and stop your headache getting any worse. 

standing still for a moment, you let your eyes shut as you raked your fingers through your head, any desperate attempt to ease the tension pounding through your head. you stepped into the kitchen, needing some kind of cold liquid to soothe the sensation. grabbing a bottle of ice cold water, you opened it, quickly taking a gulp as you let the cold water somewhat calm your senses. 

that’s when you realised how quiet your apartment was, ridiculously quiet considering kika had been home from rehab for hours. normally music would be blasting as she sat on her laptop or a show would fill the silence. today it was nothing. it was possible that she had gone out for coffee with one of the other girls, but usually she would text you. 

“kika where are you?” you called out again, starting the painfully slow walk down the hallway, to the living room, knowing any quicker would send intense spells of dizziness to your head. 

“aqui chica!” she finally responded, her voice travelling from the living room, well at least she was home. 

“my head hurts so much, medical said i should sleep but i don’t even know if i can lay down without it hurting my mo-“ your sentence was cut short as your eyes fixated on a sight that took your breath away completely. 

leaning on her crutches, her phone pointed at her reflection in the mirror, she posed as she showed off the white, green and red pattern bikini she had recently bought. she had told you the green and red reminded her of the portugal flag, stating that wearing it during the offseason would be the perfect excuse to buy it, but you agreed with her no matter what she said purely so you could see it against her tanned skin with your own eyes. 

she didn’t pay much notice to you, not turning to meet your arrival, instead adjusting herself slightly as she continued her photo session. her lack of attention on you allowed your eyes to roam the view you had stumbled upon. 

the bikini fit her perfectly, the green strings sat high on her hips as it hugged her lower body perfectly. while the top had a scoop neckline that bought innocent attention to the slight cleavage that it revealed. against her skin, the colours burst to light, complimenting everything about her, to her toned abs to her gold necklaces that she only took off for matches. 

you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander, appreciating the sight in front of you with every inch of your being. 

“oye have you gone deaf?” kika said, snapping you out of your deep gaze as she clicked her fingers in front of you. 

“what?” you blankly questioned, trying to avoid the heat from rising to your cheeks whilst stopping your eyes from dipping any lower as she looked at you. 

“i asked you like 3 times, do you like it?” she interrogated, referencing the sight you had just been staring at so intensely. 

“y-yes of course i do, it looks really nice” you spoke so quickly that you weren’t even sure she’d have time to translate it before moving onto the next topic, “how was rehab?” you quickly diverted, your hands fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you tried to clear your mind of the insanely inappropriate thoughts in your mind. 

“no no, i need actual opinions, like the colour looks good, or the top is too tight.” she expanded, rolling her eyes as she directed herself back towards the mirror, tugging on the fabric as she inspected it. 

your lips pursed as you watched how her hands glided across her body, fiddling with different aspects of the minimal fabric she was wearing. 

“so?” she pressed, her eyes darting at you through the reflection of the mirror. 

“i think the colours are beautiful, they really uh pop against your skin, it looks like it fits really…” your breath bitched slightly “really well and uhm i like that it goes with your necklaces” 

“are you sure?” she shrugged, an unsatisfied look falling onto her face. 

taking a deep breath as you looked towards the floor, there was a possibility you’d regret the next things to leave your mouth “you look really good.” you muttered, it wasn’t quite the words you wanted to leave your mouth but close enough. 

“que?” kika turned herself in your direction and raised an eyebrow, you couldn’t tell if she heard you and was just pressing you to hear it again, or she actually didn’t hear it. 

“you look really good, kika, like really good.” your cheeks flushed a deep red as the words came out louder than expected, a shine of sweat across your forehead from the sheer withhold you had on the situation. 

“no need to shout amor, i’m glad you like it though” she winked, before studying your face, her head tilted as her tongue flicked across her bottom lip, “liked it that much that you’ve gone red and sweaty?” kika mocked, reaching her hand up to your face that you quickly smacked away before it got too close. 

“shut up, i just finished training,” you hissed, your face going an even deeper red, “what time are the girls coming over?” you tried to divert the conversation again, now looking anywhere but the women stood in front of you. 

“no no, you’ve gone really red, what are you thinking in that head?” she teased, taking a shuffle forward as her eyes stared deep into you. 

“n-nothing,” you defended, your voice raising slightly before you shook your head, “i’m going to shower, put some clothes on before everyone comes over.” you walked in the direction of your room. 

“i thought you liked this view better, querida.” she laughed, her eyes tracking your direction. 

“shut up nazareth.” you stuck your middle finger up in her direction, not bothering to turn around and show her your beet red face anymore. 

closing the door behind you quickly, you pulled your phone out your pocket, instantly pressing onto the messaging app your fingers quickly typed away. 

you - i’m going to fucking crash out, i walked in and she was in a fucking bikini???? i swear i nearly saw the fucking light, i can’t keep doing this

ellie 🩵 - ooh she sent me pictures of it, it’s very pretty, i bet that was a great thing to talk into

you - ellie please let me move in with you, i can’t keep doing this, she asked me for a shoulder massage the other day and then asked why my hands were shaking

ellie 🩵- she’s doing it on purpose you twat, she knows exactly how you feel and she feels the same way 

you - there’s no way, she just likes seeing me get flustered i swear

throwing your phone on your bed, you let out a deep sigh. thank god you had an ensuite bathroom because there was no way you were walking back out there like this. taking a quick shower you changed into some semi-decent clothes, never knowing how casual to dress when it came to the girls coming round to play games. it was either joggers and a hoodie, or 400 euro jeans and a top that had been specifically made for them. 

hesitantly walking out to your living room, you were met with kika, wearing actual clothes, watching her recent netflix obsession. her booted ankle propped up on the sofa, as she leant back into the corner.

“finally! come watch with me.” she smiled, patting the spot on the sofa next to her. 

you hovered awkwardly near the sofa, eyes darting between kika and the netflix show playing quietly behind her. she looked so relaxed, curled into the corner with a blanket over her lap. her expression softened when she saw you still standing.

“come on, i won’t bite, unless you ask nicely,” she added with a teasing grin.

you rolled your eyes, finally dropping down onto the couch, shoulders heavy from training, head still pounding. you kept a careful distance, but kika noticed anyway. she tilted her head slightly.

“you look dead,” she said, like it was a casual observation.

“thanks.” you muttered.

“i mean that in a concerned, loving way,” she added, sarcastically sincere. “lie down before your brain melts.”

your body refused to move, lie down where? on her lap?

“come here.” she tugged gently on your arm. you didn’t resist as she guided your head to her lap, her thighs surprisingly soft beneath you despite the toned muscle you knew was under there.

“you’re ridiculous,” you mumbled, but you didn’t move.

“and you’re exhausted.” she replied, brushing her fingers through your hair without hesitation. the simple touch made your whole body freeze for half a second, but you didn’t say anything. couldn’t. not when it felt that good.

her fingers moved slowly, threading through strands and lightly scratching your scalp. you hated how easy it was to melt under her touch. hated that this wasn’t the first time she’d done something like this, and definitely not the first time your heart had started pounding because of her.

“training was rough?” she asked quietly.

you nodded against her lap, eyes fluttering shut. “long day. nothing new except the extra laps i had to do for being late.”

there was a beat of silence.

“i miss it,” she said softly. “the noise. the pitch. even the boring warm-ups.”

you opened your eyes just enough to glance up at her, catching the way she stared blankly at the paused tv. she looked calm, but you could see the tension in her jaw. she hated being sidelined, more than she’d tell you.

“you’ll be back before you know it.” you said, your voice quieter now, softer.

kika hummed like she didn’t believe you, but her fingers didn’t stop.

“you’re a good liar,” she murmured after a moment.

you didn’t respond to that. mostly because she wasn’t wrong, she still had months of recovering left and that was only if everything followed the plan.

the silence settled again, not heavy, but thick with everything you refused to say. you could feel her watching you from above, and it made your cheeks warm, but you didn’t move.

the moment was broken by a loud knock on the door, followed by a very familiar voice yelling, “we brought snacks!”

kika sighed and rolled her eyes, “of course.”

you groaned as you sat up, stretching your sore arms. “i swear ellie has a sixth sense for interrupting at the worst times.”

“she has a sixth sense for a lot of things,” kika said, eyeing you as she adjusted the blanket over her lap.

you froze, trying not to read too far into that.

“don’t give me that look,” you said quickly, brushing your hair back and heading for the door, “nothing was happening.”

“didn’t say anything was,” kika shrugged, smugness already dripping from her voice.

you opened the door to find ellie and a few of the other girls already kicking their shoes off, arms full of snacks and more energy than you wanted to deal with. ellie gave you a once-over, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“your face is red,” she said.

“it’s hot out, we live in barcelona now, remember” you deadpanned.

“it’s been raining all day” her eyebrow raised at your words, a smirk flickering across her face.

“shut up, ellie.”

your living room was quickly filled with your team members, filling your coffee table with snacks as a pile of card games were flung out of ellie’s bag. of course the girls sat conveniently so your only option was right next to kika. even the good floor space had been taken by jana, salma and esmee. 

you wiggled yourself down, reaching for a bag of doritos, resting them on your lap as you snacked on them. the room was full of several conversations, ones you were zoning in and out of, until there was a unanimous silence in the room. 

“so comfy sofa, incredibly red face, suspicious timing, anything you wanna share with the group?” ellie grinned, her eyes focusing into the direction of you and kika. 

you blinked, “i.. what? i was literally laying down, i have a headache so i wanted some kind of rest before you guys took over my house.”

“were you laying on top of kika then?” salma interrupted, sending a knowing elbow to jana, who had been sat next to her.

“nena come on, even your hair was messy.” patri laughed from the other end of the sofa, her eyebrows wiggling as she spoke. 

“we were watching netflix,” you huffed, busying yourself with the doritos in your lap, “you’re all so annoying.” you muttered. 

you watched as esmee whispered something in jana’s ear, the two of them in fits of laughter. you didn’t bother asking, not wanting to hear the filth that was leaving their mouths. 

“let the girl breathe.” kika mocked, as if she wasn’t enjoying this far too much. 

ellie leaned back, arm stretched over the back of the couch. “she can breathe, just not when you’re within a two-meter radius apparently.”

you sent her a sharp punch to the arm, alongside a death glare, which she absolutely ignored. 

“she was lying on me like i’m her personal mattress,” kika added casually, popping a dorito into her mouth.

your entire body stiffened as you turned to face her, “you literally told me to.”

“did i?” she asked innocently, but the little glint in her eye told you everything.

the girls around you burst into fits of laughter, the urge to hide yourself away for the rest of the evening was incredibly tempting yet you couldn’t help but smile at the laughter that surrounded you. kika sent you a smug grin, knowing full well she had caused this commotion. 

“can we just play some games?” you groaned into your hands, which were now covering your face as the girls around you continued laughing.

their laughter finally died down, as ellie picked up a pack of cards, “how about truth or dare?”

“ellie we played this in england camp when we were like 14, we are adults here.” you rolled your eyes, assuming the girls would be on your side.

“would seven minutes in heaven suit you better?” ellie retorted, her eyebrow raising as she made the suggestion. 

your face dropped, your cheeks immediately flushing a bright red as your brain short circuited trying to think of a response.

ellie quickly shook off her smug look, noticing the deafening silence in the room around her, “okay so truth or dare or cards?” she asked.

“truth or dare, i think it would be fun.” jana confirmed, the other girls agreeing with her. 

“are you scared of something?” patri asked, wiggling her eyebrows in your direction. 

“no, i just thought we would be playing something that was actually fun.” you shrugged, continuing to eat the doritos on your lap, but in reality you were scared this game would be the thing to make you crack.

maybe part of you agreed that kika did have feelings for you, and you knew for certain that you had feelings for her, but part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that her endless teasing was just a show. as if she was playing a part to your friends around the two of you to keep them entertained, but she still continued her attempts to make you flush red in private.

ellie shuffled the deck of cards, explaining that each person would take a card, and whoever had the highest would be able to ask anyone in the room ‘truth or dare’. the first few rounds were relatively harmless, ona had to sing her favourite song with an interpretive dance, jana admitted having a crush on her pe teacher, and esmee dared salma to text her ex something mildly suggestive to then say ‘wrong number’. the usual, only slightly unhinged things. 

and then ellie pulled the highest card, the queen of hearts, her eyes immediately locked on kika.

“oh no.” you muttered, sinking into the sofa cushions, hoping they’d swallow you whole.

“truth.” kika raised an eyebrow, completely unphased to the pending question.

“boring.” salma sang, her hand resting on her chin as she chimed in. 

ellie smirked, sitting up straighter, “okay, if you had to kiss someone in this room, completely hypothetically, who would it be?”

you choked on your drink, but kika didn’t look away from ellie, instead her smile twitched as if she was very aware of the way you were going rigid beside her. 

kika didn’t say anything for a second. she tilted her head like she was actually thinking about it, then turned to look at you with an expression so unreadable it made your stomach flip.

you felt every pair of eyes in the room watching. you froze in her gaze. 

“i think we all know the answer to that.” she flung her arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer into her touch as your eyes widened.

your teammates howled, and if that wasn’t a confession, you don’t know what is, you sent a wide eyed look to ellie, unsure of what to do. 

“she meant you dumbass,” ellie laughed, grabbing a pillow and hitting your arm with it. 

“shut up, i know what she meant!” you yelped, your face now the same shade as the doritos packed you had been previously munching on. 

“it’s true amor.” kika mumbled into your ear as the rest of the girls continued with the game, her hand lazily drawing patterns on your shoulder, helping you relax into her embrace.

the game continued, jana attempting to do a handstand, which would’ve had your physio’s eyes bulging out of their heads, whilst salma tried to feed her a strawberry as she was upside down. 

and that’s when it fell on patri, a determined smirk across her face as she instantly locked eyes with you, “truth or dare.”

“dare.” it slipped out without you even thinking, you were sure your brain just repeated the last thing you had heard rather than putting any actual consideration into it. you could’ve chose the easier option, the safer one, but you betrayed yourself quickly.

an amused look fell upon patri’s face, as if she wasn’t expecting your answer, ellie leant over, whispering something in patri’s ear before her face lit up even more, “give kika a massage.”

your eyes shot to ellie as your mouth gaped open slightly, “i hate you.” you mimed, ellie simply sending a sweet smile in return.

“is that okay with you?” kika asked, barely above a whisper causing you to turn and face her direction, kika would tease you until the world fell apart but knowing you were comfortable was always the most important thing to her.

you nodded in return, appearing to be somewhat confident yet your hands immediately started their routine of beginning to shake as soon as you got close to her. 

she sent you a reassuring smile in return, she could probably sense some of your anxiety, she had gotten ridiculously good at that since the two of you started living together at the start of the season. with that she turned her body round, scooping her hair and bringing it to one side of her neck, tugging slightly at her oversized sweatshirt as she did so. 

you inched forward. your fingers found her shoulders, tense and warm beneath the fabric of her shirt. she hummed as you started to knead gently at the knots in her muscles, trying to ignore the sheer proximity of the two of you. and then her head tilted, and she let out the softest moan when you hit the right spot. you swallowed hard, trying to keep some kind of composure at the sounds that left her.

“god, your hands are shaking again,” she murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. 

you froze for half a second, “shut up,” you said through gritted teeth.

“we both know that’s not what you want.” kika whispered teasingly. you swore you were going to lose your mind if you didn’t take your hands of her skin. 

begrudgingly you dropped your hands, your heart sinking to your stomach as you did, readjusting yourself so you were back in your original position as kika did the same.

the room was silent. 

“so should we leave now so you guys can fuck or?” patri teased, causing the girls to resume their everlasting laughter. 

kika didn’t say anything, she simply sent you a look over her shoulder with her stupid little smirk that could make you fall to your knees at an instant. 

you were in so much trouble.

the noise slowly disappeared as your friends filtered out, saying their goodbyes in small clusters whilst patri asked you to be quiet for the neighbours sake.

you stepped into the kitchen for a moment, letting out a long breath, one hand dragging down your face as you leaned back against the wall. 

“you good?” a familiar voice asked, of course it was ellie. 

you glanced at her with narrowed eyes, “i’m not answering that.”

“that bad?” she asked with a grin that could’ve tipped you over the edge.

you simply shrugged, not able to find the words to actually explain what was going on. you sighed and crossed your arms. “i just don’t know if i’m ready.”

ellie studied you for a moment, then nodded. “i know. and she knows. that’s why she doesn’t push”

your eyes flicked towards your front door where kika was now showing jana something on her phone, pretending not to listen even though you could see the corner of her mouth twitching with the effort not to smile.

“she pushes in her own way.” you muttered.

ellie laughed softly, “yeah, but it’s never to hurt you. you know that, right?”

you nodded slowly, “yeah, i know, thanks for not making it worse.”

ellie winked as she headed for the door, “i’ll save that for training tomorrow.”

and with that, she disappeared, leaving you alone in the quiet of your apartment. well not really alone, kika had now moved back into the living room and had gotten comfortable on the sofa. 

following her lead, you slumped down on the sofa, letting out an over exaggerated sigh. 

“i’m surprised you aren’t still red from all that teasing.” kika mocked, a smug grin on her face. 

“you’re just as bad as the rest of them, no in fact, you’re worse than all of them.” you narrowed your eyes in her direction. of course she was the instigator of all of it, even if ellie and the other girls spurred it on with everything they had. 

“it’s because it’s obvious.” she shrugged, her eyes drifting to the tv, it was some kind of reality show that was being used to make background noise. 

“what’s obvious?” you asked, a deadpan look on your face as your eyes stared into the side of her head. 

she simply shrugged her shoulders again, a small laugh added this time, denying you of any verbal answer. 

“kika, do not ignore me.” you huffed, frustration evident in your voice, but she still didn’t grant you a reply. 

standing up, you walked over the tv, turning it off and standing directly in front of her. 

“hey, it was getting to a good part!” kika defended, reaching for the remote but you were quicker to grab it. 

the two of you stared at each other for a moment before kika sighed and leaned forward, now looking up at you, “do you really want me to say it?”

“well i’m missing something that is so obvious to everyone else so yeah say it,” your arms crossed in front of your chest.

“i like you,” she declared, “like, a lot.” 

you blinked, letting out a short laugh “well yeah i’d hope so, we’ve been living together for months, it’d be a bit worrying if you didn’t.” your arms now dropping to the side as you relaxed slightly.

“no, you idiot,” she said, shaking her head, a smile creeping onto her face, “i like you. i like how oblivious you are. i like the way your cheeks go so red when people are teasing you, or how you scrunch up your nose when you’re trying to deny something. i like that every night since my injury you’ve laid in bed with me to make sure i can sleep or checked i’ve taken my medication and done my rehab.” 

she barely paused for a breath, words spilling out as she continued to ramble.

“i like how much you care about everyone, how you show love in quiet little ways. i like how you can’t walk past a cat without petting it. i like how you walk around the apartment in my hoodies like they belong to you. i like how you make my water exactly how i like it, without ever needing to ask. i like your laugh, your smile, your eyes, honestly your whole face. i just… like you.” she took a deep breath, the first one she had taken in what felt like hours,

 “i like you, dummy" her soft smile lighting up her face "so much more than just friends.”

you stared at her, stunned, jaw practically on the floor, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“amor, i have not been subtle” she laughed, standing slowly. your arms instantly shot out to steady her, offering an anchor of stability as she stood in front of you. “somehow you never got my hints, even when i told you i wanted to kiss you” 

then out of nowhere a spurt of confidence appeared, “so kiss me”. 

“que?” she blinked, surprised at your sudden boost of bravery. 

“i said kiss me” you repeated, “if you want to“ 

you didn’t even finish the sentence before her hands cupped your face and her lips met yours. the kiss was soft, almost hesitant, like time itself had paused to watch. your whole body melted into hers, hands resting on her waist, moving together as if you’d done it a thousand times before.

when she finally pulled back, both of you were smiling like idiots. she pressed her forehead against yours.

“so i’m assuming you like me too,” kika suggested, her thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

you let out a breathless laugh, “i guess you could say that.” 

“you know they’ll never stop teasing you about this.” kika muttered. 

you threw your head back, groaning as you did, “i know.”

“neither will i.” she grinned, eyes gleaming as if she’d won a trophy, looking entirely too proud of herself. 

you glanced at her, shaking your head but smiling anyway. she was so pleased with herself, her usual smirk on her face as if she knew exactly how this would end.

maybe the teasing wasn’t such a bad thing.

a/n - thank you for reading! as usual any feedback is always appreciated, my asks are open!

[mintyys-blog]

Hi minty, hope you're not to busy but could you please do for main mark and variants reaction to reader suffering from amnesia after they accidentally hurt her . Like what would their reaction be knowing they're the reason she doesn't remember them .

HEADCANONS | variants with s/o who doesn’t remember them

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST 2 | WARNINGS: violence, blood

Do not repost, translate, or rewrite my work, whether AI-generated or otherwise, without my permission. — © @mintyys-blog

MAIN MARK:

It wasn’t meant to go this far.

Mark paced the apartment like a caged animal. His fists clenched, jaw tight. The mission had gone sideways again—too many civilians caught in the crossfire, too many expectations shoved on his shoulders from Cecil, from the world, from himself.

“I’m just saying,” you said gently from the kitchen, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

“I am alone!” he snapped, spinning to face you. “No one understands what it’s like. You think you get it, but you don’t. You can’t!”

You stepped forward, unafraid. “Mark, I love you, but you are spiraling. I’m trying to help you before you lose—”

“I said shut up!” he roared, slamming his fist into the load-bearing pillar.

You both froze at the cracking sound above.

You looked up.

“Mark—”

The ceiling groaned. Then it gave. The chandelier—old, heavy, forgotten—fell faster than either of you could react. His scream echoed too late. The glass and metal hit you square in the back. You crumpled like paper.

The silence afterward was deafening. He was on his knees beside you in seconds, glass slicing his hands as he tried to move the wreckage.

You were still breathing. But your eyes fluttered, unfocused. When they finally opened fully, he grabbed your face in both hands. “Hey—hey, baby, stay with me. It’s me. I got you. You’re gonna be fine.”

“…Who are you?” Mark froze. And something in his chest just stopped.

VILTRUMITE MARK

You stood on the battlefield, torn between the bloodied rebel leader on the ground and the man you loved—hovering above like a god of war.

“Don’t do this,” you called up to him, sweat and wind whipping across your face. “He surrendered. Killing him now doesn’t prove anything.”

Mark’s eyes burned red. “You think I care about surrender? He killed dozens of my soldiers. He’s filth.”

You flew up beside him. “You’re not a killer, Mark. Not like them. Please…”

“Get out of the way.”

“No.”

He moved fast. Just a push. A flick of his arm to send you gently aside. Except nothing he did was ever gentle.

The air cracked with pressure. Your body spiraled back like a ragdoll, crashing into a sharp ridge of obsidian rock with a sound that made him sick.

He turned mid-sentence. You weren’t moving.

When he finally reached you, he saw the blood trailing from your ear, the glaze in your eyes as they blinked up at the sky.

He crouched beside you, voice hoarse. “It’s me. You’ll be fine. It’s me.”

You looked at him. And then asked, in a whisper: “Am I dying? I don’t know… who you are…” He couldn’t answer. Not because he didn’t have words—but because the pain was too loud.

MOHAWK MARK

You and Mark were tracking down a back-alley smuggler in a dirty corner of Chicago. He was wired—too much caffeine, too little sleep, muscles twitching from weeks of stress.

The moment he saw a figure leap from the shadows, he moved on instinct. His fist swung hard—too hard. You barely got his name out before the blow connected.

You slammed into the alley wall, your head cracking against the brick with a sickening sound. Your body dropped at an angle no human should bend. “No no no—shit!” Mark dropped to his knees beside you, already pulling you into his arms. “C’mon, babe. Please. Say something.”

Blood on your temple. You’re breathing shallow. His hand trembled as he brushed hair out of your face. You stirred—barely—and blinked up at him. Your brows drew together. “You… you look scared…”

“Yeah, well,” he whispered, trying not to cry, “I kind of just hit the person I love in the head.”

“Do I… know you?” Mark didn’t react right away. He just nodded once, slow and hollow. “You.. did.”

OMNI MARK

The strategy room was quiet, save for the low hum of satellite feeds.

You were arguing again.

“You’re talking about millions of people, Mark!”

“And I’m trying to save billions. Don’t twist this.”

“I’m not. I’m trying to save you.”

He turned too fast. Your hand was on his arm—and in a blink, he threw you. It wasn’t meant to be violent. Just a reflex. But he forgot how fragile you were. You slammed into a glass console. Shards embedded in your back, one slicing into your skull.

Time slowed.

He didn’t move for three seconds. Then everything blurred. He carried you out of the room like you weighed nothing. Blood coated his hands.

Later, when you woke up, the medics stepped back as he leaned in. “It’s me,” he said. “Mark.” You stared at him, confused. “I’m sorry. Are you… uh— who?”

For once, Mark had nothing to say. He left without a word.

PRISONER MARK

It had been months since the escape. Since you found him barely surviving in the woods, shaking, paranoid, haunted by what he’d done and what he’d become.

You let him stay. Fed him. Sat with him on the porch at night.

You thought he was healing.

But trauma doesn’t leave gently.

One night, he woke up screaming—sweat pouring down his chest, breath ragged. His vision blurred.

He saw enemies. Shadows. A phantom invader.

You entered the room, startled. “Mark?”

He lunged.

The force knocked you to the ground. His hand struck your temple hard, and your head bounced off the floorboards. Blood immediately followed.

He froze above you.

You weren’t moving.

“No no no no no—no—” he pulled you into his arms, crying now, shaking your shoulders. “It’s me—it’s me—it’s just me…”

When your eyes opened, you looked up at him. Frightened. Confused. “Who are you?” Mark didn’t scream.

He just pulled you into his chest, rocked you like a child, and whispered: “I’m the man who ruined everything.”

SINISTER MARK

He hated how easily you smiled at others.

You were the only soft thing left in his life, the only constant in the storm that was his fractured mind. And the more people you gave your warmth to, the more he felt it slipping out of his grasp.

Tonight was no different.

You’d just gotten home from work, rambling about a new coworker. A guy. A kind one, apparently.

Mark sat at the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, eyes locked to the floor.

“He just offered to cover my shift next week,” you said, unaware. “It was sweet of him.”

“Did he touch you?”

Your voice stalled. “…What?”

“Did he touch you?” Mark repeated, lifting his gaze now, sharp and glassy with something dangerous. “Your arm. Your back. Your waist?”

You took a step back, your stomach twisting. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters,” he said, standing slowly, “because you’re mine.”

He didn’t shout. He didn’t throw a punch.

But the tension radiating from him cracked the windowpane behind him, the glass splintering from sheer pressure. The bookshelves shuddered. One of them—loaded and poorly anchored—tipped.

It happened too fast. You turned, but it was too late. The bookshelf fell with a heavy thud, slamming into your head and shoulder. You dropped like a stone. Mark blinked.

Then everything in him went cold. He was at your side in a breath, pulling debris off your limp body, hands trembling. “No. No. Baby, look at me—”

Your eyes fluttered open. Confusion. Then panic. “Get away from me!”

Mark froze. “What—?” You tried to scramble back, weak and dazed. “Who are you? Where am I?”

He stared at you for a long, broken moment. Then he stood. Turned his back. And whispered, “You were mine.”

TAG LIST: @onlybatsyy

to be added to the tag list, please specify for which variants and if you want to be tagged in smut / dark fics

[naomihatake]

The blood dripping from your eyes

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ pairing: Sylus x female reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ themes: fluff & angst, hurt/comfort

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ summary: Sylus had never been so scared of being feared, not until that moment, when he came back home bathed in blood. Being greeted by his beloved when he entered the Onychinus mansion, the air got knocked out of his chest.

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ content warnings: reader is MC, blood (no graphic violence), fear & anxiety, Sylus needs a hug (MC delivers)

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ word count: around 1k words

⠀⠀⠀⠀➺ A/N: I rarely ever see fics in which Sylus is comforted — of course, he is treated gently most of the time, but since he's indestructible against other enemies, he is his own worst enemy when worries get to him. So yes, Sylus is at the receiving end of comfort this time around.

She wiped the blood on his cheeks with a gentle hand, running the tips of her fingers over his skin until the grim had been washed away, until she could feel the warmth of her lover (until she washed away his worries). 

The small white towel she picked up was now tainted in crimson. The red turned into a strange shade of pink under the stream of water in the sink.

Sylus stood stiff in front of her — he didn't dare move nor breathe when her other hand was holding onto his shoulder. He's never known a fear quite as intense, the fear of being feared. Dread had crawled up his throat since she entered his room and he found it hard to calm down. All he could do was curl and uncurl his fingers by his side (he didn't dare touch her). 

“Sy?” came out her soft murmur. 

Such a gentle sound he couldn't believe it carried the weight of his name (his nickname was so sweet on the tip of her tongue). 

His lips parted and he could swear there was a witty answer he wanted to say, but it somehow got stuck at the base of his throat. (What did he even want to say? He didn't remember.) All he knew was fear. For a moment, he pitied those who knew such a feeling. (For a second, he even pitied himself. No, it was the devil in the back of his head that was disgusted by his own fear.) 

The next thing he knew was the tender hand that settled on his cheek and the thumb moving over his purplish under eye. Sylus was met with a gentle gaze, the kind of gaze he's been dreaming of and yearning for. The Gods couldn't fathom how much he's missed that look in her eyes. 

“What's wrong?” 

She'll be the death of him. She already was. (Hopefully, she won't have to meet the same fate in this lifetime.) 

“Ain't I disgusting? Scary? A mon—”

A monster. However, her thumb settled on top of his lips and he was at a loss of words. 

“You're mine.” 

Sylus sucked in a panicked breath, something within his chest snapping, ugly and somewhat possessive. Ugly and fearsome, like a beast snarling at the bars of its cage (a poor heart beating frantically in between his ribs). 

“Even if you were to be one, you'd still be mine,” she whispered again. 

With her thumb, she pressed gently against his lower lip. With a slow and deliberate caress, his lover looked down at him with a warmth he's never been greeted with before, with a warmth he's only seen in another lifetime. 

Sylus cannot remember exactly how he ended up in this situation. All he knew was that his business had been a violent success, thus his blood soaked clothes and tainted skin. 

The following second, he had been greeted by his beloved as he had entered the Onychinus mansion. Everything had been a blur of frantic heartbeats and anxiety teetering on panic. Her eyes had been worried and a little dull even, but she brushed him off. ‘I've had a long day, but I missed you too much not to drop by.’ 

His fear-fueled brain didn't register that sentence properly. And that's how he ended up sitting on the edge of the large bathtub, with that beautiful (and too kind) woman standing between his legs as she washed away the blood (and all his crimes) from his face. 

“But if I am to be very honest, you're not a monster for me,” she shrugged like it was just another Tuesday. “I'd be hypocritical to say you're some kind of hero, but the least I can say is that whatever you are, you're mine. As a matter of fact, you're just the boss of Onychinus.” 

She regarded him with a simplicity that left him gulping down in shock, fingers curling into fists against his thighs. 

It was now or never. 

“I'm scared that one day you'll see me the same way you did in the beginning,” his voice trembled against his will. 

Even the crimson in his eyes seemed to tremble under her gaze. Even the blood in his veins rushed through his veins, as if to lap at her feet like the darkest of waters. 

The finger on his lips moved and before his nerves could spike up, she cupped his face in both of her palms. There were still a few traces of red on his skin, but she ignored it. 

“That'd be very uninspired of me,” she huffed a tired, noncommittal chuckle. 

Her thumbs rubbed circles on his sculpted cheekbones. Leaning in, her lips pressed against his forehead. (The beast inside the cage of his ribs had stopped snarling.) 

A gasp managed to escape his trembling lips. 

“Don't worry your mind with such a thing, my love. We're past that phase. I am. I don't fear you or anything that has to do with you.” 

Sylus tentatively raised his hands and let them curl at the slope of her waist, holding tenderly onto her. His heart ached, but he didn't want to break eye contact, he didn't want to look away, not when he was looked upon with such gentleness. 

She wasn't scared of him. Hasn't been for months. 

And if she decided to bestow such gentleness upon him, who was he to deny her? 

A/N: Thank you for reading <333 I'd happily hear your thoughts on this

[dollfacefantasy]

LOCK AND KEY ♡

pairing: yakuza!ryomen sukuna x fem!reader x yakuza!satoru gojo

summary: you finally have a chance at a big break in your career, a story that would take you from a measly crime reporter to a real journalist. the only catch is it's about the two most dangerous men in the city. when they find out about it, surely nothing will go wrong...

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, non/dubcon, kidnapping (sort of), threesome, p in v, blowjobs, facefucking, biting, spitting, praise/degradation, mentions of violence + blood + murder + typical crime stuff

a/n: this is a belated birthday gift for my bestie @kaitkatme who i love so very much. i hope you like it <3 also thank you to @explorevenus @nexysworld and @fearcvlt for beta reading!! as always reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Your eyes fluttered open to stare at the ground below you. They found carpet you didn’t recognize. The spot directly beneath your face was soaked a darker shade by a pool of your blood. You could feel the source — a steady stream of crimson leaking from your nose. A dull ache throbbed through your skull as you tried to recall what led you to this point. Where were you? And why were you waking up here?

Lifting your head, you scanned the rest of your surroundings. Whoever was keeping you put you in a dark room doused in red lighting. Windows speckled the walls parallel to you while a large grand door took up the one opposite. Every surface appeared ominous, drenched in shadows. Obsidian carpet dusted the floor. You were thankful for that aspect since you’d been positioned on your knees. That foamy layer was the only thing sparing your joints from soreness right now.

Furniture was sparse throughout this place. A large sectional couch with thick seats sat in one corner while what looked to be a small kitchenette took up another. It seemed like a guest house; though, you didn’t see any makings of a bedroom. Perhaps it was located in the alcove you couldn’t see to your left.

Near the entrance stood a mirror. Through its reflective pane you were able to see your situation and the position of your limbs despite the stiffness in your neck.

You were bound at the wrists with restraints that tied to your ankles. They connected back to the wall behind you as well. That was how you managed to stay upright even while unconscious. Thankfully, all of your clothes had been kept on. Despite the bruising and blood on your face, you couldn’t see or feel any signs of other injuries.

Still, these factors didn’t answer any questions.

Your memories were returning to you, slowly and one at a time, but building a bigger picture nonetheless. This morning you’d woken up at the same time you always did. You went through the usual steps of your routine before walking to work. A man had catcalled you on your way. When you’d told him to fuck off, he called you a ‘stupid stuck-up bitch’ in return. You remembered fishing your phone out, jotting down a sentence in your notes app about doing a story on street harassment at some point in the future.

Earlier in the day, gray clouds had masked the sky as water drizzled down like half-hearted tears. When you arrived at the dreary office complex that constituted your workplace, you strolled right into the elevator and stood silently. Two men entered after you, crowding your smaller frame towards the back. They spoke as if you weren’t even there and carried on their conversation about potential solutions to the problem that was their wives not putting out enough since having babies number two and three.

Another note. A potential investigative report into marital rape.

When the doors in front of you had finally parted, you squeezed between the two sets of broad shoulders to freedom. You made your way through the array of desks ahead and found your own towards the back corner of the room. Right away, you slipped your phone into the drawer before booting up the computer. Those other stories could wait. The one you were working on today blew both out of the water.

You had clicked on the little folder in the top right corner of the screen. The one with no label. A slew of documents popped up across your screen. Faked financial forms, criminal records, suppressed victim statements, old news clippings. And your itinerary with one last interview lined up for tonight at 8 pm. 

The final nail in the coffins that you built for Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna.

It would be the last piece of evidence you needed on the two leaders of the worst crime families in this city. An exclusive account with a former member of the Gojo Clan who worked closely with Sukuna’s circle on their shared endeavors and was now turning on them both as he fled for his life? This would make your career.

No longer would this paper have you reporting on the lower rungs of the crime beat. With all the work you’d done for this, your editor would be forced to acknowledge your talent and dedication. You’d be given good stories that would help innocent people and make actual change. You wouldn’t have to interview burnt out cops or clueless onlookers about a car accident. With Satoru Gojo and Ryomen Sukuna’s collective downfall as a mark on your resume, you would do so much more.

Finally, you would be a real journalist.

The rest of the day had been pretty mundane if you remembered correctly. You’d spent most of your hours writing the beginning of your article and then prepping for the interview later.

The interview…

You’d been on your way to that when the memories stopped. The sky was already dark when you left the building. Golden streetlights glowed every twenty feet or so along your path. You remembered running your questions through your head as you walked, preparing for the possibility that you’d have to talk this guy back into sharing if he started getting cold feet.

Someone had called out to you though. It startled you. That you remembered. You didn’t see anyone else on the street, but that deep tone hailed you all the same. He hadn’t said your name. It’d just been something vague like lady or miss. Clearly not anyone who knew you.

But you looked in that direction all the same. Your eyes met a shadowy figure before pain radiated through your entire face.

Then everything went dark.

The most obvious conclusion to you now was that this had something to do with your scheduled interview. But you figured if that were the case, your body would already be floating through some river by now. Such was the fate of those who came too close to toppling the house of cards.

Something similar happened to the last guy who tried to expose the Yakuza syndicates. It was a few years ago, but you didn’t forget. How could you? He’d sat at the desk closest to your left. You could still remember his pudgy face and thick glasses.

Even worse, you could still remember the photos of him strung up in that slaughter house.

Well… at least you weren’t strung up yet. Bound and bruised maybe, but that didn’t mean certain death. After all, this was a pretty nice room to keep someone in for the sole purpose of execution.

The thoughts swirling through your head soon came to an end as you heard muffled voices outside the room. They started out barely noticeable but grew louder as seconds ticked on. You had just enough time to mentally brace yourself before that large door opened.

Two men entered the room. Your eyelids were still a bit heavy, but you didn’t need 20/20 vision to recognize them.

Standing next to each other, the pair looked like polar opposites. Both were muscular, but one was lean and the other bulky. Both wore designer t-shirts, but the lean one sported black while the bulky one chose white. Both of them looked at you like an apex predator, but the one in black with piercing blue eyes and the other in white with smoldering red.

Satoru Gojo & Ryomen Sukuna.

Your heart stopped beating in your chest. As if lifted by mere survival instinct, your eyes no longer gave you trouble. You could see in clear view as the two men approached you. An unnerving smile claimed Satoru’s face. The arrogance was there on Sukuna as well, just a much more muted version of it.

“Good. She’s awake now,” you heard Sukuna’s deep voice rumble. “She’s been passed out for a few hours.”

“I bet. Poor thing’s probably tired. Looks like your guys roughed her up a bit,” Satoru said, his lips turning into an exaggerated frown.

Your eyes flitted between the two of them. They didn’t have any weapons that you could see. Maybe you’d be spared for a little while longer.

“What… what’s going on?” you asked, struck by how raspy your own voice sounded.

The two of them looked at you, taking in your haggard appearance along with the will to survive you still possessed.

Satoru grinned impossibly wider.

“Awww, that’s how you know she’s a good little reporter. Already asking questions,” he teased.

His hand stretched out towards you as if he wanted to pat you on the head like you were a prized pup. Instead, you wrenched away like a wounded animal. You tried to escape his touch with such force that you nearly toppled over. He simply laughed at your close call, but another strong grip on your shoulder spared you from faceplanting.

Nausea rolled through you at the sudden touch. Never in your life had you wanted to crawl out of your own skin so badly. Sukuna’s palm was warm but rough. Something someone might mistake for human if they didn’t know the kind of man it belonged to. You looked up at him through your lashes. Unlike Satoru, he didn’t wear a teasing smirk or hold any amusement in his eyes.

“Let go of me,” you whimpered. You hated how weak your voice sounded. It came out scared and desperate, which to be fair, you were both. You just didn’t want it to be so obvious. But something about Sukuna stripped you bare, shattered your usual methods of concealment.

“Quiet,” he said. 

To your surprise, his fingers released your bicep, giving you a second of peace. But that was only so they could grab your jaw instead. The calloused tips dug into your cheeks. There was no pulling away now.

Satoru clicked his tongue. “You’re gonna learn real quick that you wanna be nice to me, sweetheart. I’m much more friendly than him.”

While held still, Satoru fished a white cloth from his pocket. He brought it to your face, wiping the tacky blood off your nose and lips before tossing it onto a nearby table.

Despite his minor kindness, you chose to ignore all that his statement implied. In your mind, both of them were equally horrible, and you didn’t want to get to know them well enough to discern which of the two was slightly less evil.

At work, you were forced to look at pictures of them constantly. Their cocky grins and intense stares filled the paper. You had to flip through page after page of stories about their scandalous escapades or legal dramas to get to your pieces at the back. 

You loathed it. 

Everyone in this city knew they were dirty. All of you knew that they made their money from the blood of others, that they stayed in power by shooting down any competition. But somehow everyone came to an agreement that you would all pretend they were just typical elite socialites. That their money came from their established bloodlines and that they kept it up through skillful investments.

You’d been so close to unraveling the lies. But it didn’t matter anymore. Not right now anyways. All you could do in this moment was survive. And to do that, you decided to focus on the more serious member of the duo. You figured he would give a better chance at getting out of here. Or at least a way of reaching a destination without so much drawn out anticipation.

“Where am I?” you asked.

Another brief moment of silence went by. Your question remained unanswered.

“Why are you keeping me here?” you tried.

“You really don’t know?” Sukuna said. The words sounded rough and scratchy, but his cadence was so smooth it sickened you. “You’re a clever girl. I’m sure you have some idea.”

You shook your head.

With your face held in place by Sukuna’s strong hand, Satoru reached out and actually managed to sweep his palm over your head. And not just once. He took advantage of your predicament and pet you several times, smiling at the grimace that overtook your features.

“Come on. Don’t insult us. We know you’re smarter than that,” he teased. “You’d have to be to find out all that you did.”

“How did you-” you started to ask. You’d been so careful. You secured every connection, terminated every unnecessary history of contact, kept all your information as private as possible. They couldn’t have traced you, so how did they know?

“It doesn’t matter how,” Satoru said.

“I was careful! I-”

“You were so careful, you didn’t think that it was possible we might have a few of your coworkers on our payrolls?” Sukuna interjected.

Fury, anguish, and humiliation rushed through you all at once because, no, you hadn’t considered that. You’d never entertained the idea that any of the people you worked with would sell you out. No part of you regarded any of them as paragons of journalism, but some optimistic shred of your psyche had refused to even contemplate that idea.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Satoru said, taking clear enjoyment from your faith in the world being shattered.”Your boss couldn’t have been more willing to give you up. He let us know all about your little story a few weeks ago.”

That reveal stung even worse. The past few weeks, all the nights you stayed late, all the hours you spent poring over documents and trying to find people willing to talk, all for nothing. In fact, you wouldn’t be surprised if that interview you’d been heading to had been set up under the supervision of one of them.

You tried to stifle any further dismay, not wanting to give them any more satisfaction. You should’ve known asking how was futile. You had to change your angle, focus on the relevant information. They had discovered your intentions to go after them. Now you just had to look for a way to survive.

Internally, you tried to contemplate your current options. Really only two came to mind. Comply or deny. Neither sounded appealing, but you decided on the one you believed would speed things along.

“So what? Why am I even here? You killed my story already. There’s nothing else I can do,” you said. You fought with your vocal chords to keep your words even, to appear some kind of tough.

“Do you think we really believe you’ll just let this go?” Sukuna asked in return.

“We know you won’t accept a pay off. You’re way too honest for that. And a few vague threats won’t do the trick either,” Satoru said, squatting down to be eye level with you. “But-”

“Why haven’t you just killed me then?” you asked, cutting Satoru off. Your eyes stayed angled at Sukuna.

For the first time, your defiance seemingly got under his skin. It cracked the cocky exterior he’d so carefully crafted with each word he spoke. That sparkle in his eyes dulled a little bit. 

Before you could really register it, his hand darted for your face again. He wormed his long fingers underneath the thickness of Sukuna’s palm, flexing off the other hand. With a small jerk, you were looking at him again.

“What’d I say about being nice?” he asked. The words weren’t overtly angry. Impatient, low and tense sounding, but not angry. Not yet.

You didn’t dignify the question with a verbal response. Without even breaking your harsh glare towards him, you spit. Your saliva flew across the small gap between your faces and struck his cheek. The clear glob landed right below his eye. You almost flinched at the contact, so certain a volatile reaction from him would follow. But it didn’t. Instead, that sparkle flickered again. Amusement glowed at the center of his irises once more.

With a quiet chuckle, he wiped your spit from his cheek. He then brought those same saliva-coated fingers to his mouth and popped them inside, cleaning them of your fluids. 

Your face twisted into a grimace. You couldn’t recall seeing something more repulsive in your entire life. That made him laugh.

“You’re disgusting,” you said.

“And you’re so cute,” he teased, pulling you back in his direction.

On his other side, Sukuna tilted your chin upwards. He didn’t interject to help you, didn’t bother pulling Satoru back. He just watched as the other man leaned forward, brushing his nose along the shell of your ear before nipping at the lobe.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and you tried to pull away. Satoru’s tongue slid from between his lips to trace a path down your neck. He kissed along the thumping artery in your neck, his lips pressing against your skin in time with the strong pulse.

“We have other uses for you,” Sukuna answered your original question, his grip on your neck still firm. “You’re much more valuable to us alive than dead.”

Uses. The word sent a chill down your spine.

“I’d never do anything to help the two of you,” you said.

He chuckled, deep and raspy, not at all concerned with your protest. “That’s not your decision, little one.”

A rush of involuntary heat flooded your body following the term of endearment. You refused to acknowledge it. Your body was just confused by the objectively pleasant touches. 

His hand slipped around to the back of your neck as he crouched to be level with you too. He gave the sensitive flesh there a squeeze. You had limited mobility with your limbs bound, but you still tried squirming away from Satoru’s wandering mouth.

Upon feeling you recoil, Sukuna’s hold tightened further, like an owner’s grasp on the scruff of their puppy’s neck.

“Just tell me what you want. You don’t have to torture me first,” you whimpered.

“Oh c’mon, princess. Does this really feel like torture?” Satoru cooed with a final kiss to your cheek. He pulled back to look into your eyes. Despite the softness in his voice, he still looked so fucking smug. You hated it.

“What do you want from me?” you tried again. 

While you could put up a good fight, you found your resistance breaking down pretty quickly under the constant touching. Half of you trembled with visceral hatred, pure revulsion at the feeling of their skin on your body. But the other half, the one you wouldn’t admit to if you could help it, felt something closer to frustration welling up because they were teasing. They weren’t giving you any real satisfaction.

Everything was too much, and you just wanted away from them. The contradictory mix of emotions was making your head pound and your chest ache. You closed your eyes tight again, hoping that maybe if you believed it enough, this would turn out to be some sick nightmare, and you’d wake up alone in your own bed.

“All we need from you is your cooperation. Be a good girl and listen,” Sukuna said. He gave the nape of your neck another squeeze, his nails digging into the delicate skin.

Your eyes opened again, connecting with his red ones. They gleamed so bright it looked as though actual rubies had been embedded into his sockets. 

At the same time, Satoru ducked in again to lay some more kisses upon your throat. His hands settled on your waist, smoothing up and down your soft curves. Every time they lowered, you could feel them pushing the line, testing how far they could delve beneath the hem of your shirt before you gave a severe reaction.

“You know this feels good,” Satoru murmured between kisses.

“No it doesn’t,” you said.

He chuckled at that, not letting up in the slightest. With a soft, disapproving click of his tongue, he tutted at you. “You’re lying. You can say you don’t like it all you want, but your body betrays you. Your skin is getting all warm, you’re squirming, and I bet… if I were to feel right here, you’d be all nice and wet for me,” he whispered as his right set of fingers slid between your legs, pressing on the seam of your slacks.

You jolted in surprise. A small squeal bursted from your lips at the sudden pressure there. You tried clenching your legs shut without losing balance, but it didn’t matter. His lithe digits continued sliding back and forth unobstructed.

Against your will, you whimpered. You couldn’t help it. He was stroking you just right, and as much as you hated it, it felt fucking good. His fingertips coasted over your pulsing clit and massaged your entrance where you already knew, true to his inference, you were starting to drip.

Drawing your attention back to him, Sukuna’s other hand came up to cup your jaw. His thumb landed on the seam of your lips before nudging its way in.

“Try to bite, and we’ll both lose a finger,” he warned.

You didn’t even entertain the possibility that he could be bluffing. If you caused the slightest bit of pain to his thumb, you were certain he’d inflict ten times as much onto you. So you did nothing. You felt the warm thickness of it on your tongue, felt the calloused pad against your soft muscle.

He pulled it back and forth a bit, in and out, testing you. In all honesty, you didn’t find yourself wanting to bite. Rather, your lips closed around his thumb with more purpose, actively accepting the digit instead of loosely allowing it.

“There you go,” he praised. “You already know what to do.”

Nausea bubbled up in the back of your throat again, but it was short lived, overpowered by the muted bliss Satoru was stroking into you down below. You let your eyes droop closed and even laved your tongue on his digit. 

It was slowly setting in that you weren’t going to get out of this. You figured the next best thing would probably be playing nice until another opportunity for escape arose.

Seconds later, you felt warm breath puffing against the side of your throat unoccupied by Satoru’s mouth. Little chills broke out over your skin. His other hand fell from the back of your neck, down your spine to the small of your back. He pulled you a little closer to the both of them. As close as he could while you were still restrained.

“You don’t have to admit you like it, little one. Just stop fighting. Let it happen.”

With that, he moved in on your neck too. He was rougher than Satoru. His teeth scraped over your sensitive flesh before his mouth latched onto a specific patch of skin. He bit it. Not just a little tantalizing nip. An actual bite. You gasped, tilting your head back and inadvertently giving them more access.

The bite on your neck wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it was sure to leave a mark. He started with just that one before continuing with a series of more down towards your shoulder.

Despite this, Satoru remained relatively gentle. He worked in the opposite direction, heading up towards your lips. His eyes rose to be level with yours. That same cocky attitude glimmered within.

“Still think I’m disgusting?” he asked.

“Repulsive even,” you replied.

“Let’s see if I can get you to think of some other big words to describe me,” he said, ducking in to connect his mouth with yours.

At first, your body tensed. You stiffened up under his touch. But in a matter of moments, you slowly began to kiss back. Your lips tentatively mimicked his movements before you found yourself settling into a rhythm. He was still vile, but his kisses maybe weren’t so bad…

With Satoru occupying most of your attention, you didn’t notice Sukuna’s hands falling away or his mouth receding from your marked-up neck. Your eyes were shut while making out, so you also didn’t see him stand up. You didn’t catch him undoing his fly and dropping his pants either.

The first indication of his changed position you got was the fat leaky tip of his cock nudging your cheek.

Reluctantly, you disconnected from Satoru’s mouth, turning your head to eye the interruption. As it came into your view, you had to make a conscious effort not to let your brows raise to the ceiling. In all your life, you’d never seen a guy so big. Not only was his shaft long, but it was so fucking thick. Your mind wasn’t even concerned with who it belonged to right now. You could only watch in awe as his fist slid up and down, stroking it with a tight grip.

Satoru didn’t seem as phased as you. He grabbed the other man’s cock without hesitation, eliciting a sharp hiss from him.

You watched as he gave it a couple strokes of his own while rising to his feet. It was only a few before Sukuna pried his hand away with a strong grip on his wrist.

“Watch it,” he warned, similar to the tone he used with you.

“Cool it, big guy. You’re just as bad as her. Acting like you don’t like something that obviously feels good,” he teased.

You were sure if anyone else had said that, they wouldn’t get the chance to speak like that again. But Sukuna only scowled at him before reaching for your head. He pulled you in closer, looking down at your wide eyes as his dick slid across the side of your face. 

He rubbed it across one of your cheeks, then the other. His eyes took in every little reaction you had. The small crinkles of discomfort, the shuddery breaths of desire. He took his time, toying and teasing before he actually brought it before your lips, so close that a few beads of precum smeared on your bottom lip.

“Wha- what do you want me to do?” you said. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was that you didn’t think you could.

For the first time, he laughed. And it wasn’t like Satoru’s. Nothing about the sound was lighthearted or fun. It was a deep, sadistic rumble. A sound that was the final many heard before they met their end.

“What does it look like I want you to do? Open that pretty mouth and suck it,” he said. The hand on the back of your head moved you in closer, slipping the tip just past your lips. “Same rules as before: you try biting, and I’ll make the slaughterhouse seem like a fantasy.”

You hadn’t planned on resisting anyways, but after hearing that, all the fight seeped out of your body. At first, you didn’t put much effort in either. You just kind of sat there on your haunches, letting him do as he pleased.

He pushed his hips forward. His cock slid into your mouth inch by inch. It was only a second or two before you felt his head starting to nudge the back of your throat. The urge to gag pricked at you, but you tried your hardest to suppress it.

You squeezed your eyes shut while keeping your jaw loose and your fists clenched. He rocked in and out of the warm embrace your throat provided.

Even with your eyes closed, you still sensed Satoru’s presence. His spindly fingers caressed the top of your head and trailed along your temple. A touch probably intended to be soothing, but one that came across to you as teasing.

Following a few more shallow thrusts, you felt a tug at the back of your head. It was too jerky to be Satoru. Your eyes opened to find those same red eyes staring down at you again, a lecherous grin spread across Sukuna’s mouth.

“Trying to make me do all the work?” he said. “You’re still as a corpse down there. If I wanted to fuck one of those, I would’ve killed you.”

You tried mumbling out a sorry, but around the dick in your mouth, the word was incoherent. He didn’t need to give further direction. You began lightly bobbing your head. The movements started off tentative, as if you were still figuring out how to move at all, but slowly, you found your rhythm.

Your eyes closed again, but this time not as tight. Like his thumb before, his cock served as a distraction. You didn’t have to think right now. Didn’t have to worry about how you would get out of this. Didn’t have to ruminate over how you would day get revenge. All you had to do was work on taking his dick farther and farther down your throat with each push of your head.

“Atta girl…” he mumbled from above.

A slow exhale blew from your nostrils. His relaxed tone eased your nerves as well. The pace at which you sucked became more languid. Your head swooped closer to his pelvis more fluidly. Saliva oozed from your mouth, thoroughly coating his length and your chin.

In the midst of losing yourself to the task at hand, a whisper broke through your bubble.

“Gonna untie you now, princess, so we can both play with you.” Satoru’s breath fanned against your ear as he spoke. “You better behave. I won’t mind chasing you down, but I don’t think it’ll be as fun for you,” he said as his fingers came around back to free your arms from their bindings.

The ties fell loose and dropped to the floor. Instantly, you brought your wrists to your chests, massaging the skin that felt raw from the rough material of the restraints. You swiveled them to get the blood flowing normal again all while still flicking your tongue against the ridge of Sukuna’s tip.

You heard him choke out a groan before pulling you off, a ragged breath spilling from his lungs. At the same time, you sucked air in. You took in all that you could while your airway wasn’t obstructed.

“Fuck… that’s a good girl,” he praised. You again ignored the heat that flashed through your lower abdomen.

Your eyes opened again, your lids feeling a little weighted this time around. They both came into your view. Sukuna’s cock hung between you and him, shining with your saliva and dripping pearly precum from the head. On the other side, Satoru also had his dick out now. He stroked it in your direction. It was also impressive in size, long and thick enough to make your mouth water, but after seeing the monster between Sukuna’s thighs, you didn’t feel apprehensive.

“Cute… she already looks a little cockdrunk, and she’s only had you,” he said.

Less patient than his counterpart, Satoru yanked your head closer and sheathed himself entirely inside your mouth in one go. You actually gagged this time around, globs of your spit leaking from your mouth as your eyes watered. Your hands flew up to his thighs in an attempt to brace yourself, but he kept you as close as possible, your nose nestled against the swath of coarse white hair.

You could hear them both laugh a bit and say something back and forth to one another, though specifics evaded your ears. Sweet humiliation floods your veins at the sounds. Satoru keeps you in place, not moving while throbbing in your mouth.

Although Sukuna had explicitly said no biting, he never said anything about your nails. You dug them into the meat of Satoru’s thighs as hard as you could, until the pale skin turned pink with little crescent markings.

Instead of hissing in pain and ripping you off of him, Satoru moaned. His hips bucked forward, lodging his shaft so deep in your throat you actually thought you were at risk of choking and dying. Your vision faded and noises grew distant.

Just as you thought you were about to lose consciousness, he tugged you backwards. Not all the way off his dick, far enough that you were still drooling on the tip as oxygen came back to you. The clear fluid oozed from between your lips like a leaky faucet.

“There we go. That’s better,” he hummed before easing your mouth on him again.

You took some initiative, hoping that might spare you from another close call with blacking out. Your tongue slithered over his veins as you’d done for Sukuna. The other man in question who was reaching out to stroke your head.

“Don’t forget about me,” he teased, nudging his hips at you a bit.

Your hand came up without thinking. You wrapped your fingers around his thicker shaft and began stroking it at a rhythm a bit slower than the one your mouth moved at. It seemed to satisfy him. He didn’t say anything else, nor did he make a move to handle you.

Satoru did however.

Your mouth’s smooth pace only staved off his enthusiasm for so long. Before you knew it, each of those large hands came to rest on either side of your head. They held you in place, held you still so he could take over the motions.

He wasn’t too rough at first, gentle as someone could be while fucking your face. His thrusts remained shallow and even. You kept your focus on twisting your hand around Sukuna’s length. You couldn’t see what you were actually doing, but as large as he was, there wasn’t really a chance of losing him.

As the pleasure started to build for Satoru, he got a little faster, a tad overeager. He wasn’t ramming his dick down your throat, but he was starting to move faster. You could barely keep up with it. It was intoxicating in a way; left you feeling lightheaded and spun out of order.

We have other uses for you. Sukuna’s earlier statement echoed through your mind again. They definitely were using you. Satoru rutted against your mouth as though it was a toy crafted just for him, and Sukuna watched the skilled swivel of your fingers like it would be eternal.

You lost track of time down on your knees.

You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been down there by the time Satoru was stepping back and letting his cock drop from between your lips. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t like you were so eager to see what else they had in store for you.

Your eyes cracked open again. You hadn’t realized they’d even shut. The first thing in your line of sight was Satoru’s shaft, still hard and flushed and soaked with your saliva. From there, your pupils rose, gazing upon the two grins above.

Satoru reached out to pet your head, and this time you didn’t pull away in the slightest. Instead, your head leaned into the tender touch, nuzzled at the palm providing you a sliver of comfort.

“That’s it. You’re coming around,” he cooed. “We just have to break you in a little.”

His voice actually sounded kind of nice when it wasn’t polluted by that arrogant lilt. It hit your ears all smooth and soft, like a steady stream of champagne poured into a glass.

Almost a polar opposite, Sukuna spoke from beside him.

“Get her up. Move over there,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the couches.

“You got it,” Satoru said in a sing-song tone.

He gave your head one more caress before ducking around back to untie your ankles. The restraints came apart quickly under his nimble fingers. After they slipped off, you felt the same relief flood your feet that you’d felt earlier in your hands.

He scooped you up off the ground, cradling you in his arms like a bride. Despite being leaner than Sukuna, he didn’t lack any strength. He moved with the same fluidity that he’d entered the room with.

Under normal circumstances, you would have fought him every step of the way. Each step would have seen you kicking and squirming, trying to get him to drop you just so you could scramble to freedom. But in all honesty, you were in no condition to scramble. Being on your knees so long had left them feeling like jello. You doubted you could successfully make the short trip to the couch let alone bolt through an unfamiliar house in an unfamiliar area.

Upon reaching the luxurious seats, Satoru sat down and put you in his lap, another move you would have protested if you didn’t feel so off balance right now. He held you to his chest, stroking down your neck and onto your shoulders. Sukuna sat one cushion over from the two of you.

Without saying anything, he took your legs into his lap. You just watched, unsure of his intentions. But all that came of the move was the soothing feeling of his thick fingers massaging your calves one at a time.

All you could do was blink. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting, but that wasn’t it. His digits dug into your muscle with obvious strength, but it wasn’t at all painful. If anything it felt nice, like an aid to your circulation after being bound for hours on end. You just couldn’t comprehend why he would want to do it.

Breaking you from your confusion, Satoru whispered in your ear, “Let’s get you out of this dirty thing.”

At first, you didn’t know what he meant. However, upon looking down, you realized the front of your shirt had become stained with both blood and saliva. It was in rough shape, much worse condition than when you’d put it on this morning for work.

You didn’t really try to stop him from pulling it off your body. It would be pointless. Instead, you remained motionless as he slid each of your arms from the sleeves and guided it off your torso. The fabric’s absence sent a small shiver through you.

He brought the shirt up, using it as a makeshift cloth to cleanse your face of any remaining spit from your jaw.

“So pretty even when you’re all messy,” he praised quietly, dropping the garment to the floor beside the couch.

You assumed your bra would be the next thing to go, but Satoru’s fingers targeted the button on your slacks instead. He popped the silver out of place and slid the zipper down before shimmying you out of them. Again, with your current lack of strength in your legs, the process went easy, like removing clothes from a doll.

“You’re being so good right now. Keep it up, and you’re really gonna like it here,” Sukuna said while continuing his slow massage on your legs.

For a split second, that sentence triggered your journalistic instincts that you thought Satoru’s cock had knocked out of your head. You’re gonna like it here. So they were planning to keep you around. This wouldn’t be a one thing. They weren’t sending you out with a bang. It was as Satoru had said. They were breaking you in.

You didn’t really understand why. The trouble of keeping you prisoner didn’t seem worth the spoils they gained from it. At least in your mind.

Reading the confusion written all over your face, Sukuna’s palms slid up to your thighs. He tugged you down a little bit. You shifted from Satoru’s lap to the cool material of the couch, leaving only your head on his thigh.

The large hands spread your legs apart. Another shudder coursed through your body. You felt completely vulnerable in this position, like a small puppy caught between two wolves, your soft belly left exposed for their sharp claws and teeth.

Though nothing so ghastly happened. Sukuna’s fingertips continued to ghost over your inner thighs and hips, the touch feather-light.

“You have something to say?” he said.

But you shook your head.

“You do,” he continued. “Come on. I won’t bite. Not again anyway.”

“I just… so you’re really not gonna kill me?” you said, your voice wary.

“We already told you we weren’t,” Satoru chided from above, his hand stroking your cheek.

“But why? What’s the point? Why would you keep a loose end?” you asked. You knew you should probably shut up. Why argue against your own survival? But the innate curiosity inside of you craved an answer.

“You won’t be a loose end,” Sukuna said. “You’ll be under lock and key here. There won’t be any risk of you getting loose.”

His hands began to push your thighs up against your sides. Heat flooded your cheeks. The position left you totally exposed in the most compromising way. You wanted to ask why; although, you had a hunch, but you figured they may begin to grow annoyed with your questions.

He could tell you weren’t satisfied.

“You may not understand why, but killing you would be such a waste. You’re smart, calculating, and you’re not bad to look at,” he said. 

One of his thumbs began to graze the center of your panties, eliciting a gasp from you. Up and down, the pad of his digit traced from your slit up to your clit.

“You’ll be nice to have around, a good little stress reliever. And when you’ve proven yourself enough, you’ll be useful to the business as well,” he went on, completely matter-of-fact.

“I don’t want to-” you started to whimper. But he cut you off with a swat between your legs.

“What did I tell you? It’s not up to you. Would you rather end up like the last guy?”

You shook your head again.

“Good. So don’t worry about that for now. Keep being a good girl, and we’ll talk about it more later,” he said.

His fingers hooked around your panties, beginning to tug them down your legs. You squirmed in response; both the cool air hitting your most sensitive spot and the idea of him seeing all of you like this making you anxious. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, but he blocked that and kept you open to his eyes.

“Ah-ah. Behave,” he tutted.

He pulled your panties the rest of the way off without incident. His eyes trained on your now revealed pussy like it was prey.

“You really are pretty,” he said. “I’ll have to get a taste later.”

Later. A part of you was almost disappointed. But before you had time to register that disappointment, his fingers swiped through your folds.

You gasped softly. His digits caressed over the slick skin with an exploratory touch, gauging how wet you were.

At the same time, Satoru’s fingers slid beneath your bra straps. The smooth pads of his finger tips also ventured South as they coasted towards your breasts. He squeezed them under the material of the cups. His thumb and index finger toyed with your nipple for a second before undoing the clasp in front so it could end up pooled with your shirt on the floor.

“You’re gonna take both of us,” Sukuna said as his fingers glided across your entrance.

“At the same time?” you squeaked.

“Not today,” Satoru teased. He leaned forward, smiling upside down at you.

“We don’t wanna ruin you right away,” Sukuna added.

You wondered what exactly not ruining you would entail, but you didn’t have to wait long. Seconds later those thick fingers receded from your cunt and tapped your hip.

“On all fours. Facing me.”

You followed the order as though you were being timed, flipping over and swiveling around. Satoru rewarded your new position with a firm smack to your ass. You bit your lip in shame. Neither of them needed to hear the embarrassing sound that wanted out of your mouth.

The sound of ruffling clothes came from behind you. Probably Satoru removing his shirt. You didn’t make an effort to find out for certain. It was only background noise to the man in front of you.

He held your jaw in the palm of his hand. With a bit more pressure, you were sure he could crush the bones there. But he didn’t. He just kept you still, watching every little reaction on your face.

You felt Satoru line up behind you. It was obvious when he started to push in. Your brows furrowed. Your lips rounded out into a little ‘o.’ Even though his girth hadn’t made you gawk, it still stretched you a little as he worked himself all the way inside.

A small squeak forced itself from between your lips as he bottomed out and his silky tip bumped your cervix.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred from in front of you. “Just keep holding still.”

The deep timbre of his voice had your insides fluttering. Your walls massaged Satoru’s shaft with every little contraction.

He groaned from behind you. “Fuck… she’s tight,” he sighed as he began to rock his hips.

You moaned, the motion of him unsheathing himself from you almost as nice as when he filled you up completely. He started off at a slow pace, back and forth in a nice steady rhythm, striking deep with every thrust. Your breaths grew shaky, and your fingers clutched the cushion beneath you.

It was only a matter of moments before he started to speed up. He wasn’t jackhammering yet, but he was on the road there. His pelvis slapped against your ass in quick succession, the sound beginning to echo in the dark room. You bit your lip while letting yourself adjust. If not for Sukuna’s palm below your chin, you had no doubt your head would be hanging by now.

He just continued looking down at you, scarlet eyes baring into your very soul, making absolutely sure you got no break.

“You’re taking it so well, letting him get you all warmed up for me,” he praised.

Your body shuddered. You could only imagine what Sukuna would feel like. Thicker than Satoru but just as long. Would he handle you like this? Would he go harder or slower? Would he cum quick or last until you were begging for mercy. You supposed it wasn’t really worth thinking about. You’d find out once Satoru finished, and given how often he was moaning back there, you had a hunch that would be sooner rather than later.

You kind of wished you could see his face — how that pretty pale skin flushed with desire, how those dark pupils dilated within the eerie blue irises. After how he’d humiliated you, you wanted to see the proof of his desperation as well. But the sounds would have to suffice. Them and his increasingly tight grasp on your hips.

His arms vibrated with the strength it took to hold on, to not cum too soon. He clearly wanted to savor you a bit more before relinquishing you to the other man’s hands. Your back arched like a cat’s as his strokes brought you more and more pleasure with every blow.

The change in your posture prompted him to swivel his hips, to find a new angle that could brush against something else. He found what he sought in no time at all. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled back as he slammed against that sweet spot within you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimpered before you could stop yourself.

An annoying, breathy chuckle came from behind. “Right there, huh? That’s where you like it?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. To your surprise, he didn’t say anything else to mock you. He just kept drilling into you like his life depended on it.

The both of you started to pant. Your arms wobbled underneath you, barely able to support yourself upright. You knew you were fast approaching your own release alongside Satoru.

Sukuna released your jaw, and that was when you let yourself collapse. Your arms buckled, and your cheek squished against the couch. Satoru held you in place there, pounding into you even harder than he had been before.

You came first. It crashed over you in a sudden wave. You choked out a whine, your body tensing up under him as the bliss rolled through you. And he just kept going.

He had better stamina than you’d expected. You whimpered and squirmed beneath him, hoping he’d hit his high soon and let you get some relief. But he continued to hammer into you without hesitation.

Only when he’d battered you firmly into the depths of overstimulation did he finally let himself go. He slammed all the way in and shot rope after rope of sticky, hot release into you. It was a good thing you were on the pill. Not that they had bothered to ask. But really, why would they? You doubted they would be concerned about any potential problem that arose from this. They were in the business of making things — people — go away.

With a sigh, Satoru eased himself out of you. He gave you a pat on the hip before sinking back into the couch and pushing his now damp white hair out of his face.

You didn’t get the same chance at relaxation.

Before you could even roll onto your side, Sukuna had his fingers around your wrist. With a tug, he guided you into his lap. He’d sat down since letting you go. He’d also taken his shirt off, allowing you a clear look at his sculpted figure. Your hazy eyes raked along the muscles covered in scars and tattoos.

He laughed quietly at your obvious interest. His large hands took each of your thighs and spread them over his lap so that you were straddling him. It was nice in a way, to be maneuvered so gently. To be positioned like a doll, not having to exert any effort yourself. In the past, you would’ve thought it’d be something you hate. But in this situation, it didn’t feel so bad.

His hand splayed across your chest next. It kept you upright and looking at him.

“You look so pretty. Like you can barely remember your own name,” he mocked, a grin slowly spreading on his face.

The hand that wasn’t propped on your chest slipped down between your legs to grab his cock. He angled it upwards, dragging the head over your folds a few times, nudging it against your skin without actually entering. You squirmed a little at the feeling, slightly in discomfort but mostly in wanting what was being offered.

“Calm down. You’re gonna get used to this in no time,” he said. Threat or promise, you couldn’t really tell.

You were completely soaked between your thighs. The combination of your own arousal mixed with Satoru’s cum leaking out of you left a mess, but it had you slick enough that he slipped inside without issue.

Your eyes widened. It wasn’t just his size or the stretch but also the overstimulation that had your nails digging into his bicep. Strangled whines erupted from you as a weird, sweet sting settled in your center. He hushed you, the hand from your waist running up and down your back while he pushed his hips up.

“Shhh shh shhh, you’re a good girl, remember? You’ll get used to it,” he said, a sinister smirk across his face.

You squeezed your eyes shut, nearly doubling over from that tone alone. The physical sensation truly wasn’t that bad. Not as bad as you expected anyways. With a few deep breaths, you found yourself more comfortable. He was doing all of the work. It was just that fact that this was happening at all that knocked the wind out of you.

He continued to slide you all the way down on his dick. Once you were settled against his lap, ass flush against his thighs, he let you sit there for a minute. You stayed motionless on top of him, just taking in the raw feeling of him tucked inside you.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked. You looked up at him, at that fucking smile. “Think you can ride it for me?” he said.

You knew he was mocking, and you wanted to say yes, just out of spite. You wanted to push yourself up and bounce on his dick till he was moaning for you just like Satoru had been. But the fact that you could barely find the energy to get any response out told you that wasn’t a realistic possibility. So you shook your head no.

“That’s what I thought,” he said. He tugged you close to him. Your upper body landed against his chest with a small thud. “But that’s ok. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me take care of it.”

He grabbed your hips and began lifting them up and down on himself with ease. His hips also rocked up into you from below. And you just let it happen like he told you to.

Your eyes drooped close and your grip on his arm became weaker. He was much quieter than Satoru, barely making any noise at all compared to the other man’s near-constant moaning and groaning. But you were quieter this time around too. Maybe it was the lingering effect of Satoru. Maybe your adrenaline was wearing off. But despite the pleasure swirling in your lower half, you felt almost floaty. Your brain felt like it had melted down into a small puddle that was slowly leaking from your ears.

“You’re gonna be a perfect fit around here,” he rasped. The words almost sounded divine, whispered into your ear from the heavens. “You might act up a little at first, but I know how to handle a brat. And you’re already showing how good you can be.”

It got no response out of you. You were in no shape to argue or disagree.

That didn’t matter to him though. He slammed up into you harder, getting a sharp gasp from you.

“I’m gonna have fun getting you to crack,” he said.

At that, you whimpered. If this was how it felt, there was a good chance you’d have fun too.

He kept thrusting up into you, pumping his own cock into your slick hole where Satoru had already spilled himself. You couldn’t keep track of how long it took for him to reach the peak too. Everything was in a fog right now. You heard yourself moaning, felt him fucking into you, but everything was distant. It was possible you came again, but overstimulation gave you a constant high so you couldn’t really tell.

But before you knew it, his breaths became heavier. His chest puffed against you at a quicker rate. His balls smacked against your ass with more force. You turned your face against his chest. You knew the end was near but every sense you had was so overwhelmed you could barely stand it.

He came with a quiet groan. The most noise he’d made the entire time. He fucked the warm fluid into you in the same way Satoru had. Maybe they’d shared someone before.

For a few minutes after finishing, he just sat there basking in the afterglow with you melted on top of him.

But then you felt a cool hand on your back. One that didn’t belong to Sukuna. Your eyes opened to find Satoru next to the both of you.

“Hey, princess. You ready for a nap?” he teased.

You whined and went to shove his face away even though, in truth, the answer was undoubtedly yes.

He just laughed, catching your hand and pulling your arm around his shoulder. Sukuna squeezed your hip before lifting you off of him completely and allowing Satoru to scoop you up like he had before.

“You did good for the first time. Let Satoru help you, and get some rest,” he said. He stood up, reaching for his clothes scattered around the floor.

You didn’t get the chance to say anything before Satoru was walking away with you in his arms. Lazily looking around, you saw he brought you into a small bedroom, just off the alcove next to where you’d been tied up.

He placed you on the bed gently and walked away to grab something. You watched as he grabbed a small towel before returning to you. With gentle hands, he cleaned up the mess between your legs. 

He confused you. Well really, they both did. While he was seemingly the more mean of the two, the one who’d tease and mock, the one who’d pound you into the couch without care for how it affected you, he was also the one coddling you, caring for you as though you were made of glass.

And Sukuna. Apparently he was the rough one, the least tolerant of bullshit, the one who’d threaten you about biting but mark up your neck like he was a wild animal, he’d been relatively gentle while you were on top of him.

It left you with a lot of questions, but you had the mental capacity for none of them right now.

“See, it’s not so bad here,” Satoru said while tending to you. “I’m sure you won’t love it right away, but you really will be a good fit soon enough.”

You stayed quiet at that. Whatever job they had planned for you after having their fun, you didn’t want to know. You couldn’t imagine doing something so polar opposite of everything you stood for. But would you give up your survival if that was the cost of refusing? You weren’t sure.

Soon enough, Satoru had wiped you thoroughly enough. He discarded the towel and smiled down at you for a second. His fingers came out and ran just along the bruise on your eye.

“I’ll bring you some ice for that. Just try to get some sleep for now. When you wake up, I’ll have them bring you some dinner. And we’ll be back to check on you later,” he said with a grin.

You didn’t bother asking who “they” were or where he and Sukuna were going or what they would do next. All would be pointless questions, and all you wanted to do now was sleep. You could think of a different angle for this when you woke up. But for now, you let your eyes close as the main door to the place shut. Vaguely, you heard the lock click into place.

[almostwisegalaxy]

For the One Who Stayed

Yeon Si eun x fem!reader

reader has a shy character in this story

..................................................................................

Rain fell gently on the cobblestones of a narrow alley, blurring the orange glow of the streetlights into a trembling haze. Y/n had stopped there to adjust the strap of her bag. She had just left a late meeting at her school’s science club. Her face, half-hidden under the hood of her coat, was tense. She hated this part of the walk, this passage between damp buildings where the shadows lingered longer than the light.

A sharp noise, a muffled shout, made her freeze.

About ten meters ahead, two figures. One pinned against the wall, the other... tense, threatening. He was holding something in his hand. A pen. Y/n recognized that stance with a mix of fascination and fear: precise, focused. He was about to strike.

— Si-eun, no, back off!

Another boy’s voice shattered the tension like glass breaking. The first, Yeon Si-eun, remained still for a moment. Then, slowly, he lowered his arm. Y/n, hidden in the shadows, held her breath. The other boy, tall, slightly scruffy — Ahn Su-ho — grabbed Si-eun by the shoulder.

— It's over, he whispered. You did your job. Let's go.

They turned away. Si-eun passed by Y/n without even noticing her, but she, she met his gaze for a second. A steel gaze. No hate, no remorse. Just... emptiness.

That night, something hung in the air. A tension Y/n couldn’t forget.

Three weeks later, they met again. An inter-school competition had been organized — a logic math contest. Chance, or something close to it, had placed their schools face to face. Si-eun, silent in a corner, recognized Y/n before she even looked up at him. He remembered the uneven rhythm of her breath in the shadows, the way she had frozen like a creature on alert. She had seen him. And said nothing.

That silence, to him, meant more than any speech.

He started looking for her presence. Not obsessively at first. Just... methodically. He asked Ahn Su-ho to accompany him to certain interschool events, pretending he wanted to observe competitors. And when he saw her, always calm, timid, erasing her presence like a shadow, he watched her intently. Not because he expected anything. But because he wanted to understand.

Why hadn’t she exposed him?

Why didn’t she seem afraid?

Why had her gaze, that night, cut through him instead of bouncing off like everyone else’s?

One day, he followed her. Not out of danger, but out of habit — tracking behavior. He just wanted to observe. Know where she went. What she did when she thought she was alone. And he saw: she fed a stray cat in an abandoned courtyard. She spoke softly to it, telling it about her day. It wasn’t charming. It was strange. Fragile.

And it pulled him in.

He no longer thought clearly. Images of her invaded his thoughts mid-equation. Her face in shadow. Her voice, which he had barely heard but imagined to be soft. He caught himself getting angry whenever some idiot from school joked about private school girls. He isolated himself more than usual. Su-ho noticed.

— You've been somewhere else lately. It’s not like you to... drift.

Si-eun didn’t answer. But his fists sometimes clenched without him realizing why.

Their first real conversation took place in that same courtyard, where the cat lingered. Y/n saw him from the corner of her eye and wanted to leave.

— Stay, he said simply.

She stopped.

— Do you want me to talk about what I saw? she asked, her voice low.

He shook his head.

— I want to know why you didn’t.

She hesitated. Then:

— I saw you stop.

That simple sentence hit him harder than expected. He wasn’t used to someone seeing that. The moment he decided not to be a monster.

— You don’t like being seen, he said.

She lowered her eyes. But nodded.

They met again. By accident, then by choice. Their exchanges were rare, sometimes silent. Y/n didn’t try to make him talk. She expected nothing. She was there. And for him, it was unbearable. He couldn’t get her out of his head. She was a fault in his system.

But it wasn’t weakness. It was a fracture. And from that fracture came a light he didn’t know how to manage.

Ahn Su-ho discovered Y/n’s existence by seeing them together. He smiled at first, but quickly noticed the intensity in Si-eun’s eyes. Not desire. Something more dangerous: attachment.

— You’re gonna lose yourself, man. You can’t be like that with her... You care too much, you’re not built for this.

But Si-eun wasn’t listening. He didn’t know how to love like others did. He had no sweet words, no tender gestures. He observed Y/n like an unsolvable problem, and yet... when she drifted away, he suffocated. He spent hours staring at unsent messages. He monitored rumors about her school. He silently threatened those who pointed fingers. No one knew why this cold boy seemed so tense, so unpredictable, these past weeks.

Only Su-ho understood.

And Y/n, slowly, saw it too. She saw the strange tenderness in Si-eun’s gaze. The clumsy care with which he sometimes held the door. The way he asked if she had eaten, with a voice poorly hiding concern. She hated fighting. But she began to understand that he didn’t fight to dominate.

He fought to survive.

And now, he fought for her.

One night, she found him injured. A streak of blood on his temple. He laughed softly, bitter.

— I didn’t win.

She knelt before him. He looked at her with that mix of distance and vulnerability he reserved for no one else.

— Why do you stay?

— Because I know you’ll get back up. And I want to see what you’ll do next.

For the first time, he closed his eyes, and let his head fall against Y/n’s shoulder.

He was no longer alone.

And he never would be again.

..................................................................................

The requests are open. go for it

(⁠✯⁠ᴗ⁠✯⁠)

[cami040405]

Told you I’d get annoying in here >:) anyways, can I request Michael, Bo, and Brahms with a fem!s/o that talks like, a lot a lot, and gets really insecure about it sometimes so she just goes quiet? Very much a comfort thing needed :p if not then it’s totally okay!

THANK YOU SM FOR ANSWERING MY OTHER TWO REQS BTW, THEY WERE WONDERFUL <3

Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair and Brahms Heelshire with a Talkative S/O (SEPARATE)

Summary: Imagine Michael Myers, Bo Sinclair and Brahms Heelshire with a Fem! S/O who talks a lot but gets insecure about it sometimes.

A/N: I loved writing this request because I identified with it a lot, I talk a lot sometimes too, so I felt very much like the character, thank you for sending the request, your ideas are great!

Michael Myers

Being with Michael was… strange to most people. You were the girl who talked a mile a minute — whether it was about something you read, your thoughts during a horror movie, or even just wondering aloud if clouds ever felt jealous of each other. People often told you to "slow down" or "quiet down."

But Michael never did.

He wasn’t the type to speak — not even once. And yet, he was always there when you talked. He listened, you could tell. He’d sit with you for hours in total stillness, letting your voice wrap around the silence like a blanket. Sometimes you’d sit at his feet while he cleaned his knife. Sometimes you’d walk through the woods with him beside you, and you’d fill the air with your thoughts while he just listened.

At first, you assumed he just tolerated it — like you were background noise. But over time, little things started to make you question that.

He’d lean in slightly when you were excited. Tilt his head when you were rambling about something obscure. Once, he even handed you a book — not for him to read, but for you to read out loud. He sat there silently while you read three chapters, curled into his side, your voice the only sound in the house.

But even with him… you had your moments. Those creeping thoughts, the ones that told you you were too much — too loud, too annoying, too exhausting. That if he ever wanted peace, it meant without you.

One evening, you were pacing the cabin, rambling about a dream you had, hands flailing as you talked — until you caught yourself. Mid-sentence. You felt that cold wave of self-consciousness hit your chest like a brick.

“I talk too much,” you mumbled, suddenly frozen, heart sinking. “God, I don’t know how you put up with me…”

The silence that followed felt like punishment. You stared at the floor, not daring to look at him. You sat down, curled into yourself, quiet. The room felt bigger when your voice wasn’t filling it.

Michael, still standing in the doorway, just stared at you. His mask revealed nothing — but his body language changed.

He walked over slowly. You didn’t look up until he was kneeling in front of you.

His gloved hand reached out. Gently — so gently — he touched your face, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he was memorizing your features. He held your gaze, quiet but intense.

You tried to laugh it off, still unsure. “I just… I know I talk a lot. I must get on your nerves sometimes.”

He didn’t speak. But he shook his head, slowly, once. Then twice. With quiet care, he moved behind you on the couch and let you curl into him — big, warm arms wrapping around you like armor.

His hands settled against your stomach. His masked head rested beside yours. You could hear his breathing — slow and steady. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t upset. He was anchoring you.

You felt tears prick at your eyes. “I just… don’t want you to think I’m too much.”

Michael leaned forward slightly, and you felt the solid press of his forehead against your shoulder — his version of a kiss. His hand traced slow circles over your arm, over and over, until your breathing matched his.

No words. Just presence. Just comfort. And in that moment, you understood:

Michael didn’t just tolerate your voice.

He needed it.

.

Bo Sinclair

You’d always been a talker — a storyteller, a rambler, a collector of strange little facts and chaotic commentary. At first, you weren’t sure how Bo would react. He had that whole Southern charm going for him, sure, but beneath it was a man made of sharp steel, biting sarcasm, and deep-seated shadows.

But surprisingly? He never shushed you.

Bo liked the sound of your voice. Whether you were sitting on the front steps of the gas station rattling off about some dream you had or pacing around the house going on about a podcast episode, he listened. Not always obviously — he’d still be working on the car, tossing a wrench from one hand to another — but he heard every damn word.

He even started teasing you playfully, tossing out smirks like:

“Ain’t no one ever tell you to breathe between sentences, baby?”

But he’d say it with this softness in his voice. Like he was entertained. Like he genuinely cared.

It was on a quiet afternoon when it happened.

You were curled up on the couch in Bo’s room, legs tucked under you, chattering while he tinkered with something by the window. But mid-sentence, the words caught in your throat. Your mind spiraled.

“Do I sound annoying?”“Maybe I’m just talking too much again.”“He’s probably sick of hearing me ramble.”

And just like that, silence. Bo didn’t turn right away. But he noticed. His shoulders stilled. His hands paused. The air shifted.

He turned slowly, blue eyes narrowing in that way he did when something wasn’t sitting right. “You alright?” he asked, voice low and even.

You managed a small shrug. “Yeah. Just tired.”

That was a lie, and he saw right through it.

“Don’t bullshit me, sweetheart,” he said gently, wiping his hands on a rag. He walked over, crouching in front of you. “You were goin’ a mile a minute a second ago. Now you’re all quiet.” He tilted his head. “What happened in that pretty head o’ yours?”

You bit your lip, eyes dropping to your lap.

“I just… I feel like I talk too much sometimes,” you whispered. “Like I’m annoying or—just too much.”

Bo blinked. And then he looked at you like you’d just insulted yourself in front of him — which, in his mind, you had.

“Too much?” he echoed, almost offended. “Honey, let me tell you somethin’ real clear.”

He leaned in, one hand coming up to rest under your chin, coaxing your gaze back to his.

“You think I’d sit there listenin’ to you talk about those weird little facts, or them stories you spin outta nowhere, if I didn’t want to?” His thumb brushed over your cheek with a gentleness that contrasted every rough edge of him. “Hell, half the time, you’re the only thing keepin’ me sane in this damn place.”

Your breath hitched — eyes glassy, throat tight.

“I like the sound of your voice,” he continued, quieter now. “I like how you light up when you’re tellin’ me somethin’. I like when you forget what you were even sayin’ ‘cause you got so excited.”

He chuckled under his breath, eyes soft. “Drives me crazy in the best kinda way.”

You blinked back the sting of tears, and Bo noticed. He leaned up, kissing your forehead, lingering there for a moment before resting his own against yours.

“You don’t ever gotta quiet down for me, darlin’. Not ever. You go ahead and talk my ear off — I’ll be right here, every time.”

You nodded, sniffling softly, and he gave you that crooked little smirk you loved so much.

Then, with a wink, he muttered,

“Now come on. Tell me the rest of that story about the raccoon with the donut. I was listenin’.”

And just like that, the words started coming again — hesitantly at first, then more freely — and Bo? He just leaned back, arms crossed, watching you like you were the only thing that mattered.

Because to him… you were.

.

Brahms Heelshire

The manor was quiet.

A strange thing, considering how much your voice usually echoed through its old walls. Whether it was humming while organizing the dusty shelves, ranting about something you read, or just talking to Brahms about literally anything, your presence filled the house like sunlight — warm, persistent, and impossible to ignore.

But today? Silence.

You sat curled on the far end of the window bench in the library, knees drawn up under your chin, hands tucked into the sleeves of your cardigan. You were staring out at the garden, not really seeing it, just sinking into your thoughts.

From the hallway, soft footsteps echoed. Brahms emerged from the shadows, face partially covered by his porcelain mask. His gaze drifted across the room—searching—before settling on you.

“Darling?” His voice was cautious.

You didn’t answer right away. Just a small, tired shrug.

He tilted his head. Something was off. You hadn’t spoken to him all morning. No cheerful greeting, no “Brahmsie, did you move my book again?” No rambling about your dreams or the weird crow you saw outside. Nothing.

A quiet Brahms was normal. A quiet you? Not at all.

“Why are you being so… quiet?” he asked, stepping closer.

You hesitated, biting your bottom lip before finally whispering, “I just… I don’t know. I talk too much. I get annoying. I thought maybe you'd enjoy a break.”

The moment those words left your mouth, Brahms froze.

Then, slowly, like he couldn’t quite believe what he heard, he took a step toward you. And then another. His long frame moved with that eerie grace he had — like a wind-up doll, gentle but uncanny.

“You think… I’d want less of you?” he said, voice low. “That I get tired of you?”

You avoided his eyes. “Sometimes I see your face and it’s like… I don’t know. Blank. Or distant. I just overthink, I guess.”

He was beside you now, sinking to his knees in front of the bench. His masked face tilted up to you, gloved hands gently finding yours and tugging them free from your sleeves.

“Blank doesn’t mean bored,” he murmured, voice softer now. “I just get lost in you, that's all. I listen to every word. Even the nonsense. Especially the nonsense. You fill the house. You fill me.”

You blinked. He tugged your hands to his chest, pressing them over his heart.

“When you go quiet,” he said, almost mournfully, “everything feels wrong. Empty. Like the house used to feel before you.”

His grip tightened just a little, as if he thought you might slip away with your silence.

“Say something,” he whispered. “Anything. Say I smell funny. Say you forgot how to spell ‘rendezvous.’ Say I’m a spoiled man-child. I don’t care. Just... don’t go quiet. Not with me.”

You finally laughed—a breathy, watery laugh that escaped your throat before you could stop it. And it lit his whole posture up like a switch had flipped inside him.

“There she is…” he sighed, pulling himself up onto the bench to sit beside you. “I missed your voice, little dove.”

And as you began speaking again — slowly at first, hesitantly, then with growing comfort — Brahms curled around you like ivy, head on your shoulder, arms holding you gently in place, like you were something precious he couldn’t bear to lose.

He didn’t say much else.

He didn’t have to.

His silence said: Talk all you want. You’re never too much for me.

.

[ragesmut069]

Caleb and you have a spicy FaceTime.

Praise, phone sex, lingerie, p in v, not sfw, unprotected sex, masturbating.

“Hey can you ft”

“Anything for you, give me like 5 I just got out the shower”

I put my phone down and went over to my desk and opened up my laptop. I wiggled impatiently in my chair. I was wearing Caleb’s large sweatshirt but underneath I had a surprise for Caleb.

Finally my laptop glowed with a picture of Caleb and I and I hit the answer button

“Hey gorgeous”

“Hey y/n” said Gideon and 3 other of Caleb’s coworkers.

“Oh hey guys, I didn’t know you’d be there today” I said and gave Caleb a look through the computer

“Yea we came to pick Caleb up we gonna go out tonight”

“Oh Caleb didn’t tell me” again shooting Caleb a death glare through the computer

“Don’t worry love I already told them I’d meet up with them later, they’re just taking their time leaving”

“ I promise I won’t keep him long I just wanted to talk to him about something and then he’s all yours”

The guys started to leave and I heard one of them say “oh they’re totally getting freaky” before the door shut i heard Gideon say “don’t forget to use a condom”

Caleb rolled his eye and went over and locked the front door “I’m sorry about them” now that he was standing I could see he was wearing black baggy cargo pants and a simple black t shirt that came to a slight crop. Before Caleb sat down he stretched which made his shirt come up showing his abs and V line. I instinctively bit my bottom lip and my eyes widened a little at the sight. Caleb bent down into the cameras view

“See something you like pip squeak”

“Shut up Caleb “ I rolled my eyes but I could feel my cheeks get hot, I looked down and started to play with the hem of Caleb’s jacket.

“Oh is that my jacket” “ mmm looks good on you pip squeak”

“Do you always have to call me pip squeak”

“ hey I stopped calling you it in front of other people like you asked doesn’t that count” i rolled my eyes at him again

“Soooo why did you want to FaceTime, you have something important to show me, you know I’m a very busy man right?”

“No it’s not important if you wanna go catch up with your friends you can, we’ll talk another time”

“Eh nah Id rather talk to you anyways, so just tell me”

“ I just wanted to show you something but it’s okay” I was starting to regret doing this, I mean Caleb and I are still fresh I mean we only kissed twice the last time he was here but I just bought some new lingerie and I really wanted to see his reaction to it.

“I’ll just show you next time you’re down”

“ no no no now I’m intrigued”

“ okay fine maybe I’ll show you, but you can’t judge me okay?”

“ why would I judge you”

“ I don’t know I’m just nervous to show you”

“Would it be easier if you told me what it is first”

“ what! No! That would make it worse”

“ okay okay well how about”

“ you remember the last time you were down here and we kissed” I said cutting off the last part of his sentence”

“Well duh how could I forget but what does that have to”

“Why didn’t we do anything else” …. “ I mean why did you stop yourself” “you said you’ve been waiting to kiss me since we were kids”

“We’ll because I didn’t want to rush anything” “you’ll always be stuck with me so I figured we’d have time”

“But Caleb, I wanted you to”

“Oh” “you wanted me to do what “

“You know what I mean”

“ mm do I pip squeak?” “I don’t think I know, maybe you should enlighten me”

“Caleeeeeb” I whined at him. He knows I’m not good with words so why is he making me do this?

“Tell me what you want me to do then”

“ I can’t, you know I’m not good at this”

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk looking down into the camera with a slight smirk on his face.

“Okay okay pip squeak, I’ll talk then, you just tell me if this is what you want okay?”

“Huh?”

“I’m trying to decide if I want to leave my hoodie on you or if I should take it off of you” “cause something tells me that it would be easier to control you with you in it” he kept looking down into the camera as he bit his lip at that last part, “ I mean I know how much you love to run away, I feel like even with my fingers inside you, you’re still going to try to run from me, so I’ll need to keep the hoodie on you so I can control you with my other hand”

“Why would I be running away”

“Because I stop when I want to stop” “ I want to hear you begging me to stop, as I finger you to completion over and over again, I want you make you so sensitive that when I finally put my cock inside you, you’ll feel every bit of me and every single motion i do”

I started to salivate at the thought

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to fuck you I can tell you all the wild fantasies I’ve had”

I finally decided that it was time to take off his hoodie and give him the show I’ve been wanting to give him since he left “would one of your fantasies be having phone sex” before Caleb could even start I started to take his hoodie off and said “gosh it’s just so hot in here” I stood to take the hoodie off and to show Caleb everything that was underneath his hoodie. I was wearing a black sheer lacy bra with hints of dark green embroidery a long with matching panties and a lace floral belt that had two straps going down to my thighs that were connected to garters. While I was standing I kicked my chairs lever to make the chair sit up higher, as soon as I sat down I saw Caleb’s face and his mouth was slightly open and his eyes looked like he wanted to jump through the screen and take me right there on the ground.

“You know Caleb your friends are waiting, you should really finish your story”

“ I ugh I ugh I ughh”

“ oh and I wanna hear the full story so start from the top”

Caleb stood up from his desk and walk out of camera view but I could hear him closing the blinds. While he was gone I positioned myself so that way the camera was showing my body and I made sure to open my legs, when he came back into view I could see his hard on through his pants.

Caleb sat down and said “so you wanna play like that then” “okay I’ll go back to my story but as soon as we’re done here I’m buying a ticket to place and I’m getting the real deal, fuck Gideon and the boys.”

“ I want to make you crazy before I even touch you, I want you to beg for me, I’m gonna kiss all over your body, kiss your pussy over your panties until you’re begging for me to take them off and even with you begging I would only allow myself to run my fingers on the inside of your panties, I would run my finger up your center but I wouldn’t enter inside you just yet, I just wanna play with your pussy, I wanna know every part of your pussy, I would rub your clit between my fingers, watching your every reaction”

I couldn’t help myself anymore I wanted Caleb so bad I start to trail my fingers down my own body, with my one hand I started to rub my nipple through my bra, the lace adding a different kind of friction to my nipples, my lace panties were so tight I could feel my clit pulsating against the panties, I made sure to take my time with myself like I knew Caleb would so I let my hand flutter down my body all the way to the hem of my panties where I lightly started to touch myself over the lace. Exploring myself to the sound of Caleb’s voice only made me want him to be here more I could feel the warmth start to grow between my legs, I let out a small whine as Caleb continued

“Finally when I think you’ve had enough I would drop my head between your legs, licking up your center over your panties, sucking you through your panties, knowing you, you’d try to take your own panties off so I’d have to take my time tying your hands up above your head, then I’d finally go back down and I’d move your panties to the side making sure to lick up all the mess that you’ve made for me. I know you’re fighting the restraints so I’d lick you all over but I would avoid licking or suck on your clit”

I dropped my hand into my panties scooping up all my juices onto my two fingers and I pulled them out and put them in my mouth and slowly sucked myself off my fingers all while maintaining eye contact with Caleb and I went back to myself I pulled my panties to the sides and I started to rub small circles on my clit, my breathing increased as I picked up my pace listening to Caleb

“ fuck you’re doing so good baby, you’re so wet for me and I’m not even in the same city as you. I just want to pump my fingers in and out of you right now making sure to rub your clit with my thumb, actually I’m going to bring a special toy. I’m gonna put a vibrator on your clit as I finger fuck you, okay baby ?”

“Fuck yes Caleb” I said as I started to put my fingers in and out of myself

“God you look so good when your finger fucking yourself for me”

“I want to make you squirt all over my cock before I put it in you, I wanna make you squirt so many time that you try to run away from me just so that way I can tie your legs to the bed so you can’t go anywhere, I’d strap that vibrator to you and continue to finger fuck you and make you squirt over and over again”

I started to finger myself harder and faster almost bringing myself to a climax before Caleb said

“No don’t you dare cum yet, im not done yet”

I didn’t want to stop I wanted to cum so I kept going

“I said stop” he raised his voice which kind of scared me so I stopped and I looked at him to which he said “good girl” I watched as Caleb finally freed his cock from his pants, even through the small screen I could tell he was bigger than I thought, his length going past his belly button and his girth was shocking I wasn’t sure how he was going to fit inside me, he wrapped his hand around himself and started to pump his cock as he continued

“Do you want me inside you yet pip squeak”

“Fuck please caleb”

“Say it again”

I reached into one of the drawers on my desk and got out a vibrator and turned it on, I looked at Caleb and I trailed the vibrator over my rock hard nipples and trailed it down my body all the until I reached my clit, I looked at him and said

“Please fuck me Caleb please”

“Fuck y/n I want to feel you squeeze around me, I want to hear you scream my name”

“Caleb please I need you”

We were both already at the edge, I took my other hand and started to finger myself

“ fuck caleb I’m gonna cum, please sir can I cum”

“ fuck cum for me baby”

Both of us came at the same time through the screen, I could see Caleb shoot his load all over his desk, both of us breathing heavily, staring at each other through the screen. And then Caleb’s phone started to ring, Caleb answered it still heavy breathing

“ dude fuck off im not coming” he hung up the phone and then also hung up the call with me. I stared at the black screen , only seeing my reflection on the computer, confused i tried to call Caleb back but he didn’t answer, he only sent me a text saying “put my hoodie back on”

Annoyed and confused I went and got in the shower and then when I got out and dried off I looked at Caleb’s hoodie debating weather or not to listen to his order I decided to put it on but I texted Caleb and said “no not until you tell me why you hung up”. I fell asleep on the couch waiting for him to respond.

I woke up in my bed and I could feel warmth behind me and I could feel a hand on my bare breast, I turned my head to see Caleb behind me shirtless, a little confused and annoyed, I turned towards him careful not to wake up I pushed him to his back, I started to kiss down his neck, i heard him let out a low hum and I could feel his throat vibrate against my lips, I started to lead down his body as i got to his waist band I felt a large hand wrap into my hair and I felt the sting of my scalp before my head was made to look up, making eye contact with a sleepy Caleb

“What do you think you’re doing”

His voice was so deep and scratchy in the morning it almost made me cum on the spot.

“What does it look like I’m doing love?”

“I don’t think it’s going to fit in your mouth pip squeak, how about me start with some breakfast and coffee”

I originally was just going to tease him and then make breakfast but I didn’t like the way he doubted me so I swatted his hand away from me I came back up towards his mouth, and inch away from kissing him I reached up and grabbed a hair tye off my bed frame, I then trailed my mouth down his body, only barley touching his skin with my mouth until I got to his waist band again. I started to kiss and nip at his v line I started to pull at his sweat pants, he helped me pull them past his ass, his cock falling out, already hard, I put my hair up. I looked up at him with an innocent look in my eyes , as I wrapped my hand around his cock, I started to pump my hand up and down. My hand didn’t even wrap all the way around his base, I was starting to think he was right but I never give up so I looked Caleb in the eyes as I licked up his cock and wrapped my mouth around his tip, he moaned and his hand came to the top of my head , I swatted his hand away again, I started to move my head up and down following my hand, when I had enough saliva in my mouth I spit in my hand, I continued to go up and down with my mouth and hand, when I had enough saliva I moved my hand down and I slammed my head down taking him all the way down my throat until I hit the end of his cock, I looked up at Caleb as he let out a loud moan “fuck y/n” “god such a good girl” I continued up and down and then slamming my head down, I picked up the speed, I could taste the sour taste of Caleb’s pre cum in my mouth as I came back up after slamming my head down, I went back down and I could feel Caleb’s cock start to pulse, and he said “fuck don’t stop I’m going to cum” I got him a bit closer before I got up and started walking to the kitchen, when I got to the door way I turned and looked at Caleb as I wiped the drool from my mouth I said “what did you want for breakfast?” I could see the confusion, frustration and betrayal flash across Caleb’s eyes, I realized I might have fucked up as I was about to say sorry and go back to finishing him off he said “you, now run” my eyes widened as I started to run across the house towards the kitchen, Caleb caught me before I could even make it there, he wrapped his arms around my waste and lifted me up and started to kiss down my neck as he bent me over the top of the couch. I went to sleep with just panties on so I could feel his cock press against my ass cheeks, he didn’t put his pants back on

“Did you just chase me with your dick out?!”

“Well someone took them off and didn’t finish what she was doing”

He brought my jacket up and started to kiss down my back “I thought you weren’t going to put my jacket back on” he said as he bit my butt cheek sending a sharp pain before give the mark a small kiss before bitting my ass all over I moaned out in pain and pleasure.

“Caleeeeeb I’m hungry”

“Mm so am I”

“So we should eat”

“Trust me I’m gonna eat just fine”

He pushed me forward and then spread my legs he hooked his finger on the top of my thong and brought his finger down and moved my panties to the side, got on his knees and started to lick from the top of my clit to my asshole, he did that a couple more times, he then started to move his tongue from side to side on my clit before hooking his thumb inside me and moving it slightly up and down,

“Fuck Caleb, I can’t” “please Caleb don’t stop I’m going to cum” right before I went over the edge he slapped my ass and got off his knees and walked back to the bed room and said “I’ll cook don’t even think about going in the kitchen”. I stayed where i was with my mouth slightly open just staring at the door way where Caleb had disappeared into, Caleb appeared with shorts and a t shit on.

“What do you want to eat?”

I stayed silent just staring at Caleb “what can’t handle what you dish out now, how does breakfast burritos sound?” I crinkled my face at Caleb and shook my head up and down. Caleb then kissed the top of my head and slapped my ass a little as he walked to the kitchen to get started on cooking. I fixed my underwear and walked behind him, i did a little jump to get myself a seat on the counter. Caleb shook his head at me, and handed me a cup of coffee..

” do you want to go see a movie or something today?” Caleb asked

“no” i said quietly with a frown on my face

”hmmm how about i take you on a shopping spree, ill pay for everything”

”now that’s tempting but” i grabbed out and tugged on Caleb’s shirt bring him between my thighs, since i was sitting on the counter i was finally almost the same height as Caleb, i brought my mouth to Caleb’s ear ad whispered “why don’t we play out all those fantasies of yours”

“you’ve always been impatient pip squeak” he pushed me back from his ear, and laid a kiss on my mouth, he then went back to cutting potatoes and cooking. I frowned again at him.

After we finished eating i grabbed our plates and went to the kitchen to start washing the dishes, Caleb followed after me and said “its okay ill wash everything”

“no you cooked so ill clean” i started to wash the dishes, I felt Caleb’s arms wrap around my waste and and his head went to the crook of my neck and he started to kiss and nip at my neck i moaned and leaned back into him, his hand started to go up the front of my shirt and he toook my breast into his and started to squeeze and massage my breast, i felt his fingers start to play with my nipple, Caleb took his other hand and started to play with my waistband of my panties. I turned the water off and turned around to Caleb and wrapped my arms around his neck and i kissed Caleb, it started out as a slow kiss but progressed into a wet sloppy kiss, Caleb’s arms went down and scooped me up, and i wrapped my legs around Calebs waist, he placed me on the counter, not letting our lips part, my hands went to his waistband i hooked my fingers inside his waist band, i then took my hand down and started to rub his cock outside his pants, I could feel Caleb’s hands tighten around my hips as he brought me closer to the edge of the counter. In one swift motion Caleb took the jacket off of me along with his own shirt, Caleb’s mouth slammed back onto mine. Caleb then took my panties off and then i heard his shorts drop to the ground and felt him step out of the shorts, i could feel Caleb’s cock at my entrance, i broke the contact between our mouths to look down wide eyed at Caleb’s cock. His hand grabbed my chin and brought my face up to look him in the eyes

”you want to stop pip squeak?”

“No just go slow”

”don’t worry ill open you up first” as he finished that sentence his finger entered inside of me and he started to pump in and out a couple times before putting a second finger in

“fuck you’re so tight” “and you’re already so wet for me”

he kept pumping in and out of me, i could feel his fingers curl upward inside of me hitting the g spot i started to let out a moan, and before I knew it Caleb was bringing out a orgasm with just his fingers, as soon as i finished orgasiming Caleb started to move his fingers up and down

”fuck Caleb” “no no no” “I can’t Caleb I’m gonna “ I couldn’t even finish the sentence before i was squirting all over Caleb and the tile, i could hear it splash on the ground, i looked at Caleb and he was dripping with the warm liquid that just came out of me. Caleb brought his fingers and gave my clit a light slap before putting his fingers back in and going back to the up and down motion. With his other hand Caleb grabbed the back of my head and slightly pulling on my hair sending a sharp pain to my scalp.

“I want you to look me in the eyes this time, don’t look away or ill stop.”

“Yes sir” I whined, I felt the tears start to sting my eyes as I looked at his purple eyes.

Caleb spend up the movement inside me, i started to scream out Caleb’s name as i squirted all over him again, Caleb then started going in and out of me bring me to an orgasm again, after i fell over the edge my brain went numb, as the tears started to flow down my cheeks, i felt Caleb lean down and lick up my center, he gave my clit a kiss before wrapping his arms underneath my legs and lifted me up, i wrapped my arms around his neck, a little confused i looked at Caleb he said “do you trust me?” I shook my head up and down in a yes motion, he said “good” at the same time he started to lower me down onto his cock the tip entered inside of me. My nails dug into his shoulders. Caleb and i both let out a loud moan as he lowered me onto his cock, he slowly lowered me down, and when i got to his base he stopped,

”why are you stopping Caleb, fuck me” i stated. He brought me up slowly and brought me down a couple of times, he then brought me up one last time before slamming me all the way down onto his cock, i felt a sharp pain as he slammed me down that pain started to dissipate into pleasure, he kept going, i started to sloppily kiss Caleb as he continued to fuck me, my brain started to go numb again as i got closer to the edge as i was about cum, Caleb brought me up Off his cock and then placed me on the counter and then bent me over the counter, my bare breasts against the cold counter, i was on my tippy toes, his hand came to the base of my back and pressed down slightly i felt his head come to my neck and whispered into my ear

“you’re such a good girl” “you take me so well” he started to rub his cockk on my enterance, his cock was rubbing on my clit all I could do was moan at Caleb, I could no longer think of words to say. I felt the tip of him enter inside me he stared off slow again before speeding up, he was still being gentle with his thrusts.

“ That’s my girl” he delivered a slap to my ass, he took my hair into his hands and pulled my head back and started to kiss my neck as he thrusted into me. My arms flung out to try to grab the counter better, I ended up knocking the coffee cup onto the ground, shattering on the ground near Caleb and i’s feet. Caleb didn’t stop, he kept pounding into me. If anything it made him go harder into, I felt like I could feel every part of him.

”we should move to the couch, I don’t want you to get cut by glass” he then reached down and started to rub my clit. My eyes started to water again as the tears sting my eyes, Caleb again delivered a slap against my ass. I felt myself tighten around Caleb, getting close to cumming, again Caleb turned me around and picked me up he brought me over to the couch entered inside me again and said “if you’re going to cum you’re going to look me in the eyes” “you’re mine, i want you to look at me”

he started to slam into me again, i could tell he was getting close to, i started to tighten around him

”fuck Caleb cum for me”

”if you keep saying my name like that I’m going to cum inside you.” ”god your pussy takes me so good” “your squeezing me so tight i can barley move”

“Caleb please” the tears started to stream down as i screamed his name over and over. I could feel Caleb start to pulsate inside me, he was holding my head so that we were staring at each other, his lips slammed onto me, we could barley focus on kissing each other as we both came, i could feel Caleb twitch over and over again inside me. As Caleb took his cock out I could feel his cum leaking out from me.

”that’s my good girl” he said as he kissed my nose.

[arkaiveofurown]

Carrying Your Love With Me

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Reader

Ace always carries the ones he loves—Dadan’s bead necklace, a hat that reminds him of Luffy’s, a jolly roger tattoo for Whitebeard and a crossed-out “S” for Sabo. He doesn’t talk about it, but it’s written on him. So when he asks you for something to carry, it means everything.

Word Count: ~2,300

tags: fluff, ace is sentimental

my masterlist here ♡

The thing about Ace is—he doesn’t say much when it matters most.

He’ll laugh louder than anyone, challenge five men at once, eat half a kitchen’s worth of food, and fall asleep mid-sentence in a sunbeam like a cat.

But when it comes to love? He wears it quietly.

Ace was half-asleep in the sun, back resting against the mast, a soft breeze teasing his black hair. His hat tipped down, shielding his eyes, but his hands—calloused and sun-worn—were fiddling with the red-beaded necklace around his neck.

You’d seen him do that before.

He’d trace the beads slowly when he thought no one was watching. Each one had a scratch, a mark, like it had been through battles with him. You didn’t know much about it until Marco once offhandedly mentioned it was from Dadan—his foster mother. She’d shoved it into his hands the day he left.

The hat wasn’t just a fashion choice, either. He’d picked it up because it reminded him of Luffy. It made him feel closer to his little brother, even from across the sea.

The “S” in his ASCE tattoo? You didn’t need to ask twice. The answer came quietly when he talked about Sabo—his voice a little rough, his thumb brushing over the ink like it kept a piece of his brother alive.

And the bold mark on his back—the Whitebeard tattoo—wasn’t just pride. It was loyalty. Family. Proof that he’d found something worth following. Worth protecting. He bore it like a banner, never once hesitating to call Whitebeard “Pops.”

Ace didn’t talk about his life often. But he wore it. Carried it. Clung to it.

Just like how he chose to carry the name “Portgas”—a quiet, powerful tribute to the mother who sacrificed her life so he could live.

He loved hard. Deeply. Fiercely. And even when he didn’t say the words, he wore them—for the people he never wanted to forget.

And it made your heart ache in the best way.

——

You sat together on the edge of an island cliff that evening, looking out over the sea. The sky was painted in orange and crimson, the kind of colors that matched the fire in his hair and soul.

“I don’t usually ask for things,” Ace said suddenly.

You turned to look at him. “Okay…”

“But I’ve been thinking,” he added, eyes still on the water. “I’ve got stuff from my brothers. Dadan. Pops gave me this tattoo. But I realized I don’t have anything from you.”

Your heart stuttered. “You want something from me?”

“Something small,” he said. “Something I can carry.”

You tilted your head. “You’re sentimental.”

He snorted. “No I’m not.”

“You are,” you teased. “You literally never take off that necklace.”

“That’s different,” he mumbled, ears going pink. “She’d kill me if I lost it.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “So what do you want from me?”

“Anything,” he said quietly. “Just… something that’s mine.”

You looked at him—this wild, flame-hearted boy who tried so hard to seem carefree while his whole heart was full of love he couldn’t say.

“Give me a night,” you said. “I’ll make something.”

He turned, brows lifted. “Seriously?”

You nodded. “If you promise to keep it.”

“I never break promises to people I love,” he said. Then, flustered, he added quickly, “Care about. People I care about.”

But you caught it.

And you smiled.

——

You stayed up late in the ship’s workshop, using scrap bits of red and white metal you’d bartered for on a past island stop. The pieces weren’t perfect—one side was a little dented, and your hands shook slightly while linking the thin plates together with wire—but it was solid. Clean. Strong.

Like him.

You shaped the metals into a linked, band-style bracelet—red and white alternating, polished until they gleamed. When the light hit it, the colors glinted like fire and bone.

(pic from op official art)

You made two.

The next day, Ace met you in your usual spot on deck. The wind tugged at his open shirt, and the sun made his freckles glow.

You held out the bracelets. “Here.”

He blinked. “You made these?”

“Metal, so they won’t burn,” you said, placing one in his hand. “Yours is slightly lighter. Mine’s got the dent on the fourth plate.”

He turned it over, slowly—fingers careful, reverent. “Red and white,” he murmured. “White for the crew… Red for—?”

“You,” you finished. “The color of fire. Passion. And—”

He looked at you.

“Love,” you said.

For a moment, he didn’t speak.

Then, with trembling hands, he slid it onto his wrist and looked at you like he was seeing the sun rise for the first time.

“Help me put yours on?”

You nodded, and he carefully clasped it around your wrist, fingers lingering. “This means a lot,” he said, voice thick. “More than I know how to say.”

“You don’t have to say it,” you whispered.

You already knew.

“We match,” he said, voice warm and soft. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” you replied.

Because you wanted to carry him too.

——

It became a habit.

Before meals, he’d touch it.

Before battle, he’d glance at it.

When he was nervous, his thumb would rub over the plates—red, white, red, white—like counting seconds.

“Hey, firefly,” you teased one day. “You keep petting that thing, it’s gonna shine right through the deck.”

He shot you a look. “It helps me focus.”

“Really?” you asked, leaning in. “Or does it remind you of someone?”

Ace flushed but didn’t deny it.

“It keeps me steady,” he said. “When I’m scared, I remember you made it. And then I’m not.”

Your teasing fell away.

You stepped forward and placed your hand over his.

“You’re never really alone, you know,” you said. “Not as long as I’m around.”

Ace looked at you like the sun had risen for the second time that day.

——

He was gone for three weeks.

Scout mission across the Calm Belt. You stayed behind on the Moby Dick, bracelet clinking against your wrist like a whisper.

You touched it when you missed him. Slept with it curled under your hand.

And then, on the 15th night, it cracked.

A single metal plate split down the edge with a soft ping. Your stomach dropped. You didn’t know why—but you felt it in your chest.

Far away, Ace stumbled during a fight. Mid-flame.

He winced and looked down—his bracelet glowed red, the smallest spark skimming its surface.

“Ace!” someone yelled. “You good?”

He caught his breath. “Yeah. I just… felt something.”

He touched the bracelet. It was warm. Warmer than it should’ve been.

He gripped it tight.

“I have to go back.”

——

You waited at the harbor, wind biting your cheeks.

And when you saw him—bruised, exhausted, hair wind-tossed—you ran.

Ace caught you mid-stride, lifting you off the ground like a lifeline. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, hands gripping his back.

“You felt it too?” you whispered.

He nodded, face buried in your neck. “Cracked. I thought something happened.”

You pulled back enough to show him your bracelet. “It did. I missed you.”

He touched the crack reverently, like it was a scar you both shared.

Then he kissed it.

“I’m not letting it break again,” he promised. “I’ll fix it. Even if I have to melt it back together with fire.”

You smiled through your tears. “You’ll burn it.”

“I’ll burn everything else first,” he said. “But not this. Never this.”

——

Years later, the bracelet was a little darker, a little scratched. But it was still there.

He never took it off.

Not even in storms. Not in fights. Not when the fire got wild. The red and white gleamed like memories.

People thought the beads were his style. The hat, a statement. The tattoos, just ink.

But those who knew him—really knew him—understood.

Everything he wore was love.

And when he glanced at his wrist, when his fingers brushed metal and his eyes softened—you knew.

He was carrying you with him.

Always.

[arisewanekosuki]

If little helper reader had a dendro vision is she compatible at every team comp of dendro like on burgeon, aggravate, bloom, and hyper bloom?

Like for example with Kinich and Emily being burgeon, she gives them up a buff on em(or anything you want in general) making their reactions deal more dmg

Also the little headcannon about little helper reader thinking that every guy likes lumine

I wanna see it on Kinich and ororon hehe

Someone already asked what if she had vision and I answered that I can see her having dendro one! Also here I wrote how her abilites would work, based of her elemental skill she would be compatible mostly with bloom, hyper bloom and burgeon teams.

------ The first thing Ajaw did after learning that Kinich got a crush on you was to just tell you about it. He really wanted to see Kinich being embarrassed or even rejected by you, but what he didn’t predict was that you… just won’t believe him. Of course this didn’t stop him and he continued to tell you about it every time he saw you. After some time the self proclaimed Almighty Dragonlord started to get irritated by it… Your accusations that Ajaw lies or when you didn’t see that Kinich clearly is looking only at you drove him insane sometimes. So one day the pixelated Saurian shouted when you were alone with them. -"How can you not see that this guy has a crush on you?!" You were stunned, Kinich was a bit nervous. Will you finally realize? And if yes, will you accept his feelings or reject them? You sighed, suddenly looking irritated. -"Ajaw... I think you're the blind one, Kinich clearly has feelings towards Lumine!" You said making two boys silent. Both of them were stunned by your declaration. The Saurian Hunter knew what would happen soon so before Ajaw could offend you in any way he locked the little Saurian away. You pouted. -”What’s wrong with him? He spent all the time with you and didn’t realize about your crush on Lumine? Ah but don’t worry I won’t tell her so you can still surprise her!” after the last sentence you innocently smiled. Kinich couldn’t help but ask you where this idea came from. -”May I ask why you think so?” -”Hm? I mean Lumine is the Hero of Natlan and you two get along very well!” Kinich only sighed.-”I respect Lumine, but she is not the one who caught my attention.” -”Oh? So… is it Mualani?! You two have known each other for so long!” Kinich now wonders if it’s some kind of price he has to pay for loving you, but no matter the cost, he won’t give up.

Romance and romantic love is something new for Ororon. For a while he wasn't even sure about his own feelings towards you, Granny Citlali had to educate him about them. And yet after Ororon was sure that what he feels towards you crosses the line of friendship, he had doubts whether to tell you about them or not. It was his first time after all so he wasn’t sure how he should approach this matter. He would give you his best vegetables and if there is anything you needed help with, he would offer his assistance without a second thought but even he realized this is not enough.  He decided to borrow some romance novels from Granny to ‘educate’ himself about flirting. The day came when he could try something from those novels. He visited your Teapot and it seems you were alone at the moment in the room. You two talked a bit, Ororon was hyping himself up to do what he planned and then. Thud! His hand slammed into the spot close to your head, he caught you between the wall and himself. He saw you being surprised, that was his chance! But he couldn’t say anything, suddenly feeling too shy. He took a step back and turned around, hiding his blushing face and murmured “I’m sorry”. -”Don’t worry!” You came and patted him on the back “But next time please warn me when you plan to practice how to woo Lumine ok?” His ears perked. -”Woo… Lumine?” he turned and looked at you with confusion written on his face. -”Yes! I will gladly help you win her heart!” You said with excitement in the eyes. -”Ah…no.. I mean… I wasn’t..” he wasn’t sure what to say, something like this never happened in novels he read. Before he could clear the misunderstanding you started to tell him many plans how he can approach the Traveler and court her. Ororon didn’t want to interrupt you, you look so cute when you get excited, but he thinks he will have to ask Granny Citlali for help in the end…

[sturniodoe]

careful

player!chris x sweetheart!reader

summary: reader is working on a project with the company of her roommate. chris calls her and after her roommate gives her a warning about chris and his ways.

it was late at night but you were still sat at your desk sewing together the last part of the dress you had to make as an assignment. the one you swore you were going to finish instead of going to that party chris invited you to. but of course like always you caved, i mean you only went to be nice because well not going would be mean. (and also because chris kept trying to convince you and you were a people pleaser.)

you called your best friend selena and told her to go with you because you didn’t want to go alone and because she was your best friend you two did everything together. when you arrived chris noticed you immediately and made sure to keep you by his side at all times. selena had only wandered off on her own when you told her it was okay to.

to be fair you actually enjoyed the party that night. by that i mean your company and not so much the actual party part.

but now you were facing the consequences; sacrificing your sleep for a good grade.

luckily for you your roommate bianca liked to stay up late so at least you had company. “you know it’d be a lot easier for you to stay awake if you just drank an energy drink.” she says watching you from your guys’ living room couch.

you shake your head fully concentrated on the piece in front of you, your tongue sticking out a bit. “no i’m okay, just a few more minutes and i’ll be done.” you say but your body betrays you as you yawn.

“why’re doing this so last minute anyway usually you have all of your stuff done early?” bianca yawns as an immediate result from your yawn. before you can answer, your phone starts buzzing and you reach your hand out to your roommate signaling her to hand it to you.

“who’s engineer major?” she asks grabbing your phone from the coffee table and handing your phone to you. “just chris, i met him in my physics class he’s nice.” you say taking the phone and answering the facetime call. bianca looks at the screen as you go back to sewing the dress, she sees chris’ face pop up on the screen and she immediately scoffs but covers it up with a cough.

“hey sweets.” he smiles at you over the phone. you smile and greet him back turning off the sewing machine. “i just finished the dress i was making for class.” you hold up the dress so chris can see it in the camera. “that looks really good, but i’m sure it’d look even better on.” he flirts and you feel your cheeks heat up.

the two of you talked for maybe 10 minutes before hanging up. (bianca swears it was like an hour) “y/n.” bianca says and you turn to her still smoothening out the dress you had finished seeing onto your tailoring mannequin. “look i don’t mean to be in your business but just be careful with chris. i’ve seen the way he is with girls and i just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

you frown at the warning having no idea about chris’ reputation with girls. “don’t be silly b, chris is just my friend.” you laugh and bianca nods. “alright y/n, just please-” she doesn’t even finish her sentence and you smile. “got it thanks for the warning, b.” you and turn back to the dress on the mannequin and sigh in relief. finally you were finished and could go to sleep.

a/n: all i have to say is this is not proofread. have a good night or day! (whatever time you’re reading this) byeees 🙃

taglist: @bluestriips @chrepsi @sturniolossimp @sturniolo1trips @sturniszn @fiowerbeds @iloveneilperry (and of course still adding…)

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n:

inspired by @frostbyte13

“Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” Matt asked as you sat in an empty courtroom with no one in present company except you, him, and Foggy. You rolled your eyes as Foggy held Matt’s old braille bible in front of you.

“They’re rolling their eyes, Counselor.” Foggy informed.

“I thought as much.” He nodded. “Y/N, please cooperate.” You sighed and slapped your hand on the bible, which the cover was peeling and the pages were quite bent.

“I do.” You reluctantly said, leaning back with your arms crossed.

“Wonderful. Now, where were you April ninth at eleven o’clock PM?” Matt questioned, pacing back and forth in front of the bench.

“Home.” You answered bluntly.

“Really? Because the evidence presented suggests you were not, in fact, at home at this moment in time. Care to explain?” Matt argued and Foggy looked quite displeased.

“You’re blind.” You once again bluntly replied.

“Now, now, blind does not equal stupid, y/n. Please enlighten me on your whereabouts.” Matt calmly proceeded and Foggy shook his head, making a tsk tsk sound with his teeth.

“You probably just didn’t notice that I was sleeping on the couch that night.” You lied once more and Foggy banged his fist on the table nearby.

“You swore an oath!” Foggy yelled, a bit overseriously.

“Order in the courtroom, Counselor.” Matt chuckled and faced you again as Foggy readjusted his jacket and fixed his hair, regaining his composure. “You have one more chance, y/n. Make it count.”

“Fine! I snuck out to go to the movies with my friends. Are you happy? We saw an R-rated movie and it was lame as hell!” You raised your voice as you finally admitted your crime.

“Aha!” Foggy yelled, banging the gavel beside you. “Always wanted to do that.”

“A little early on that, Foggy.” Matt said aside. “Thank you for your honesty, your sentence is…grounded for two weeks. This court is now adjourned.” Matt paused for a few brief moments. “Foggy, gavel.”

“Oh, right. Almost forgot.” Foggy banged the gavel and you sunk into your seat with your hands covering your face. “If you can’t do the time, don’t do the crime, kid.”

“You guys are so corny.”

taglist: @summersimmerus // @simp-legend // @locke-writes // @you-bloody-shank // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Eighteen: Reprieve (Rex POV Part Two)

Chapter WC: 6,545

Chapter Tags/Warnings: fluff and angst, Rex being a cutie, Fives being a good brother, the usual amount of existentialism

A/N: This is a continuation of my previous Rex POV, following chapter 18 and occurring the morning before their Not-Date #2 in chapter 19. If you saw me post this on Wednesday no you didn't!!

As I've mentioned before, I normally write these as things for myself to read and get into the right headspace, so it may be a little incoherent. Also Goldie is only referred to her as she/her in this one, but be warned the next one may not be like that. I am nothing if not inconsistent.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Coruscant, 21 BBY

The next morning, Rex shoots out of bed at 0600 hours, a bundle of nervous energy.

He gets dressed quickly and heads out, a spring in his step, the datachip in his pocket. It's early enough that he’s one of the first to arrive at the Resolute’s mess hall for breakfast, and he returns the nods and friendly, tired smiles from the night crew as he fills his tray. He takes his usual spot at a table by the viewport and sits down, the chair creaking beneath him, his head down and focused on his datapad.

Rereading her messages is a welcome distraction from the tasteless gruel on his tray. She hasn't replied to his latest note yet, but that's not unusual. She's probably sleeping. He hopes she is, anyway.

Rex picks at his breakfast and reads the messages over and over again, his lips curving upwards into a small smile. The conversations are short, and they're not particularly interesting, but he finds himself reliving them, reading between the lines, trying to interpret the meaning behind each sentence. Is there a double-meaning? Are the words hiding an unspoken truth?

It's pathetic.

He knows that.

He's acting like a lovestruck teenager, not a clone captain who has better things to be doing. Like planning their next mission. Or reading his intel reports. Or actually eating his breakfast.

It's not like him, and Rex knows that. He's not this type of man. He's never been this type of man.

But then again, no one has ever made him feel this way.

No one.

And Rex is finding that he rather likes it.

He’s halfway through a particularly long and amusing message about her recent argument with Skywalker, given a codename in their correspondence because, well, it's not exactly protocol, when the chair across from him scrapes across the floor and a heavy thud follows.

"Mornin'," Fives drawls, his tone thick with fatigue.

"Morning," Rex replies without looking up. He taps the screen and scrolls down, skimming the paragraph, trying to find where he left off, and he feels a smile threaten when he rereads the words. She certainly knows how to paint a picture. It's not surprising. He's read enough of her reports to know her flair for the dramatic doesn't stop at battle.

"Did you sleep?"

"Hm? Yeah," Rex says distractedly, his spoon held halfway between his mouth and his tray. He reaches the end of the message and clicks the button, moving onto the next one.

"Really? You look awful."

"Thanks." Rex lets out a low snort and finally takes a bite, swallowing. "I was up late."

"Yeah? Doin' what?"

Rex pauses and lifts his head. He opens his mouth to respond, but then he remembers the datachip, and the files, and his plans for the day, and he shuts his mouth with an audible click.

"Working," he answers instead.

"Of course you were." Fives shakes his head and starts to mix his vegetable and protein rations together, creating a brown, gooey mixture that Rex would never dare put near his mouth. "You're gonna work yourself to death, you know that?"

"I'll be fine." 

Rex shrugs and turns his attention back to the datapad. She's been sending him a lot of pictures lately, mostly of tookas, and though he’d had to ask her to stop, he hadn’t deleted a single one.

Instead, he's saved them, all of them, and he finds himself scrolling through them when he has a free moment, a smile on his lips. This one, he can see her reflection in the shop window, her nose scrunched in concentration as she tries to get a good shot. He resists the urge to zoom in and moves onto the next message.

"If you say so, Captain," Fives hums.

Rex ignores the comment and continues to read, his eyes moving across the words, the corner of his mouth twitching. He's about halfway through her rant about the Council, and he has to fight the urge to laugh.

They're driving me insane. Literally. I swear, they're trying to kill me. Either that, or they're actively trying to ruin my life. There is no other explanation.

It's a dramatic statement, and a little over-the-top, but it's so typical of her that Rex doesn't mind. He'd never admit it, not in a million years, but he finds it kind of cute. Her dramatics. Her overreactions. Her tendency to exaggerate. He likes it.

He likes her.

It's not his fault, really. He can't help it.

If you hear screaming from up here, it's me. Just ignore it. Or, you know, come save me. That'd be nice.

Fives sighs, and the chair creaks as he leans back. Rex hears him take a long sip of his caf and swallow, but he's too engrossed in his datapad to look up. He doesn't have to. He's seen the face his brother is making a hundred times. He's seen him make that face every morning. It's a routine they've both fallen into.

Fives drinks his caf in three big gulps and then sets the cup down on the table. The cup thuds against the durasteel surface, and the chair creaks again as Fives leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. There's a moment of silence, and then his brother sighs again, louder this time.

"Something interesting?" Fives asks innocently.

"Hm? Yeah."

"Really?"

"Just some reports," Rex mutters, his thumb scrolling down the screen. "Nothing special."

"Oh yeah?" Fives hums, and he props his chin up in his palm, giving Rex a sly look as he leans forward, forcing himself into his line of sight. "You don't usually smile like that when you're reading reports."

Rex blinks and lifts his head. He raises an eyebrow and meets his brother's gaze, trying his best to appear unruffled, even as his stomach flutters, his pulse jumping.

"Smile like what?" he asks warily.

Fives leans back and gestures to his face, mimicking a dopey, lovesick grin. Rex can't deny its accuracy. They have the same face. He'd be a fool to try.

He is, though. A fool, that is. And he's going to play the part.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rex deflects, and he tries not to think about how stupid he sounds.

"You're a bad liar," Fives points out with a laugh. He picks up his spoon and starts mixing his rations together again, the spoon scraping against the metal tray. "You sure you didn't stay up all night writing love letters?"

Rex feels the heat rise to his cheeks, and his eyes widen, his heart stuttering. He glances around the room, but the few troopers in the mess are engrossed in their own conversations, and no one is paying them any mind.

The screen goes dark as he drops the datapad to the table. A faint beep echoes through the space, and Rex clears his throat, shifting in his seat. He takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax, trying his best to appear calm. Unfazed. Unaffected.

"Fives, I have no idea what you're talking about," he says slowly, enunciating every syllable.

"You've been spending a lot of time with your comm lately. And your datapad," Fives muses, his tone casual. He shrugs and shoves a heaping spoonful into his mouth, and then, with a full mouth, adds, "More than usual. And you missed sabacc last night. And the night before."

He gives Rex a pointed look, and Rex frowns, the realization sinking in. He has missed the past few card games. It hadn't occurred to him. It hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd been so focused on getting the intel, and finding a way to tell her, and planning how the whole thing was going to go, that he hadn't realized the implications.

But he's been careful. He's covered his tracks, and he's sure no one has seen him sneaking away to answer messages or send them. Or at least, he'd thought no one had seen him. It was late. And he was tired. He might've been a little careless. But it's not a big deal. It's nothing.

Except it is something.

And he can tell by the smug look on his brother's face that Fives knows it.

Rex scoffs. "What, you're keeping track of my schedule now?"

"Nope." Fives swallows and grins. "Echo is."

Rex's expression hardens, and his lips thin. He should’ve known better than to think the two of them wouldn’t compare notes. He'd underestimated their interest in his personal life, and he can tell by the gleam in Fives' eyes that it's going to come back and bite him.

A tense silence falls between them as Rex stabs at the lump of green protein, a muscle twitching in his jaw. The metal clinks against the plate as he drags the spoon through the mass of rations, the food sticking to the utensil. It's an unfortunate sight, and he tries not to think about the meal awaiting him later this afternoon as he forces a bite into his mouth. The last time, they'd gotten so much food that he'd felt guilty. He'll have to tell her not to this time, though he doesn't want her to think that he doesn't appreciate it. It's the opposite.

The look on her face as she watched him try nearly everything Dex had to offer is something he'll never forget. She'd been delighted. He'd never seen her like that before. It was so...real. So genuine. So open. And seeing her that way...

Well, it had made him feel like someone had grabbed his heart and squeezed.

Hard.

It still does.

"What are you trying to get at?" Rex finally asks, and Fives shrugs.

"Nothing. Just curious."

He scowls and spears another bit of protein, ignoring the look his brother is giving him.

"Right," he drawls.

“You're spending a lot of time in your bunk, and we've all noticed." Fives leans back in his chair and points his spoon at Rex. "And when we have downtime, you're not here. Which means you're either working, or..."

"Or?" Rex challenges, his tone flat.

"Or, you're doing something else."

Fives smirks and leans forward again, his gaze intent, a knowing look in his eyes. It's the same look he gives him every time he catches him staring at her. It's a look that always makes his chest tighten and his stomach twist, and Rex finds himself holding his breath, his muscles tensing.

He waggles his eyebrows, and Rex lets out a soft snort, rolling his eyes.

"That's a bold assumption," he mutters.

"Not really," Fives chuckles, and there's a hint of mischief in his voice that Rex doesn't like. "Because I have a feeling I know exactly what's keeping you up at night."

Rex stares at his brother for a moment, and then, in a sudden surge of panic, he looks around the room again. Thankfully, the troopers are still deep in their conversations, and the officers at the other end of the room are too engrossed in their datapads to notice. But still, he lowers his voice, his brow furrowing, his tone wary.

"Yeah?" he says slowly, his hand gripping the spoon a little tighter than necessary.

"Yeah," Fives replies confidently. "You're finally taking my advice."

Rex blinks. "What?"

"My advice. About talking to her," Fives explains, and he gestures towards Rex's datapad, a sly smile on his lips. “I’m happy for you, vod. She's a looker. If I was in your position, I'd be smiling like that, too."

The food turns to ash in Rex's mouth, and his stomach plummets, his pulse pounding in his ears. He chews quickly and forces himself to swallow, the lump burning a path down his throat as he sets his utensils down carefully. The metal clinks against the tray before he folds his hands together, resting his elbows on the table. He takes a slow breath and meets his brother's gaze.

"I'm sorry," Rex says slowly, his tone even. "Who?"

Fives grins and leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"General Anathorn," he hisses. "Who else?"

The blood drains from his face, and his eyes go wide, the weight in his stomach twisting and churning. His mind spins, trying to think of a response, but his thoughts are a jumbled mess, and all he can manage is a blank stare.

"I...What?" he manages to croak.

"Don't worry, I get it," Fives says, and his lips curve upwards, a smug smile on his face. "You've been flirting with her for months, and she's hot, and you're stressed. Makes sense that you'd try and relieve some tension. Not exactly by the book, but, hey, what's a little fun between friends?"

"Wait, hold on," Rex says quickly, his hand rising in a placating gesture. "Back up. You think...what?"

Fives laughs. He picks up his cup and takes a long sip of his caf. Then, he leans back, his elbows resting on the armrests, his legs stretched out beneath the table, a smirk tugging at his lips. His gaze sweeps over the room and then comes back to rest on Rex.

"Come on, Captain, there's no need to be shy," Fives teases. "You don't have to be embarrassed. We all know."

Rex's mind comes to a screeching halt as the world goes quiet around him. Everything fades into the background, the sounds muffled, the colors dimmed to a haze of grey and white. All he can see is Fives, sitting across from him, grinning at him, teasing him, and all he can feel is the cold weight of dread that's settling in the pit of his stomach, a nauseous chill spreading throughout his body.

They know. They all know. And they all think...

It's the worst possible scenario. He's been careful. So careful. And yet, he'd let his guard down, and they'd figured it out. How long have they known? How many of them know? Are they all laughing at him behind his back? What are they going to do?

This is the kind of thing that could get him decommissioned, reprogrammed, or worse. This is the kind of thing that could ruin everything, and the thought of losing her, of being separated from her, is enough to make him want to throw up.

If they know about his feelings for her, they must know about his conversations with her, too. What else had they noticed? Does he talk in his sleep? Had they seen him drag her into the alcove on Kamino and break down in front of her? Had they watched his hands linger, or his eyes trace the curves of her body, or the way he smiles when she walks into the room?

Has it always been this obvious, or had he just gotten sloppy?

Rex doesn't know.

"Relax," Fives says, waving his hand. "We're all cool with it."

"Cool with what?"

Rex's voice comes out in a choked rasp, and he tries not to flinch. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly, his pulse racing, his thoughts a jumbled mess. This is bad. This is so bad.

He's been reckless. He's been stupid. He's put himself, and her, in danger.

"The two of you," Fives explains, oblivious to the panic swirling inside Rex, threatening to choke him. "It's cute. We're rooting for you."

"I...you..."

Rex opens his mouth and then closes it. He tries to form words, but nothing comes out.

"You're lucky,” Fives continues with a laugh. He takes another sip of his caf and adds, his tone casual, "If any of us tried half the shit you do with her, we'd have our necks snapped. But you...she seems to like it. You've got some game. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Fives,” Rex says, the only word his brain is able to form.

"I'm serious," Fives chuckles, and he reaches across the table, snatching up the datapad. 

Rex lunges for it, but Fives is faster, and he pulls the device out of reach, his eyes scanning the screen. Rex grits his teeth and leans across the table, his hand wrapping around his brother's other wrist and keeping it pinned to the surface. His empty cup turns on its side, a trickle of caf spilling out, but he's too focused on Fives to right it.

"Give it back."

"Hold on," Fives says, squinting at the screen. His eyebrows shoot up, his lips parting in a mock-shock. "Is this a joke? Are you two trading jokes? Wow, Captain."

"Fives," Rex hisses.

"Huh. This is pretty tame," he muses.

"Fives."

"And you're using codenames," Fives adds. "Interesting."

"Give it back," Rex growls, his grip tightening.

Fives ignores him and continues to scroll through the messages.

"These are...actually pretty boring," Fives mutters, his brow furrowing. He pauses and taps the screen, skimming through the texts, a curious look on his face. "Why are you smiling so much? This is just a conversation about caf. How is that romantic?"

"Fives," Rex warns, squeezing his wrist, and he holds his hand out. His tone is sharp and commanding, the kind of voice he uses when the troopers are disobeying orders, but Fives doesn't seem bothered. He's still scrolling, his expression thoughtful, his lips pursed in concentration, and Rex can feel the vein in his forehead pulsing. "You have three seconds."

"What, before you deck me?"

Fives chuckles and glances up, a twinkle in his eye. At the sight of Rex's expression, his amusement fades.

"Whoa," he breathes. He sits up, his face sobering. "Rex, I'm kidding. Calm down."

"Then stop," Rex hisses, his eyes darting around the room. They're being too loud, and too obvious, and he knows the other clones are starting to notice. There's a murmur of curiosity from the other tables, and he can feel the heat rise to his cheeks as the attention starts to shift to him. "Just give it back, okay? And stop looking."

"Relax," Fives scoffs, rolling his eyes. "They're not gonna care."

"Give me the damn datapad."

"Fine." Fives hands the device over, and Rex snatches it, turning it off and slipping it into his pocket. “I’m sorry.”

Rex scowls and rights his cup, and he stares down at his plate. The rations have gone cold, and the color has faded from the protein cubes, leaving them a dull grey, and the smell is even more revolting than usual. It makes his stomach twist, and he has to force himself not to gag.

He feels exposed, vulnerable, and his heart is pounding, his palms clammy. The others will be filing in soon, and the mess will fill with chatter and laughter and jokes. But all Rex wants is to be alone, so he can calm down, and try to think.

He'd been an idiot.

And he needs to figure out what to do about it.

"So," Fives says slowly. He stirs his own food around and glances up. "You and the General?"

"There is no me and the General," Rex snaps, his gaze focused on his tray. "It's not like that."

"Yeah? Then what's it like?"

"I don't know." He shakes his head and runs a hand over his mouth, a muscle working in his jaw. "It's not. I don't know."

"It's not?" Fives asks, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Rex says firmly. He glances up and meets his brother's eyes. "She's my friend."

"Right." Fives lets out a low snort and looks away, taking another sip of his caf. "But you wish it was more."

Rex closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. He lets out a long exhale, his shoulders sagging. There's no point in lying. Fives already knows about his...feelings toward her, and it's not worth the trouble of trying to cover it up. Denying it is only going to make things worse.

"I can't have more," he admits, and he hears his brother sigh.

"Why not?"

"You know why not."

"Yeah, but...you two have been dancing around this for months now." Fives pauses, and his voice grows softer. "And she clearly cares about you. A lot."

"She cares about all of us," Rex points out. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, but not like that," Fives says gently. "You've gotta give her a little credit. She doesn't talk to us the way she talks to you. She's different with you."

"I'm her friend," Rex replies, his tone flat. "She treats all her friends differently. She has different relationships with all of us."

"No, it's not like that," Fives protests, and Rex feels his temper flare. He clenches his jaw and grips his spoon tighter, the metal creaking beneath his fingers. "You should've seen her on Saleucami when we found out you were injured. She was worried. And pissed."

That catches his attention. She’d seemed shaken up the next morning, and she was quieter than usual, but he thought it was because of her injury. But the way she'd ran to him, the tears in her eyes, the relief on her face...it had sent his pulse racing, his thoughts spiraling, and he'd almost said something, almost given it all away.

He'd chalked it up to exhaustion, the haze and frayed nerves that come after a hard-fought battle. It was a near-death experience for him, for them both. It makes sense that she would've been upset.

But what if...

"Yeah?" Rex hums, trying to keep his tone casual. He keeps his eyes down, his thumb tracing the handle of his spoon. "How mad was she?"

"Mad enough to try to pull a ship out of the sky, vod," Fives says with a chuckle. He shakes his head. "It was kinda scary. I mean, you’ve heard the stories. The woman has a temper."

"She does," Rex agrees, and his lips curve upwards into a small smile despite himself. He props his chin up on his fist and sighs, his mind starting to drift. He knows exactly how she looks when she's angry. It's a sight that's always left him speechless. She's stunning when she's passionate, and there's something about the fire in her eyes, the flush on her cheeks, that's always made his heart skip a beat.

He knows he should be concerned about the fact that she's dangerous. He's heard the rumors about her, and he's seen the proof with his own eyes. She's reckless. Recklessness gets people killed. But her recklessness has saved his life. And her anger has kept her alive. He can't fault her for that.

He wouldn't want her any other way.

"She's something else," Rex murmurs, more to himself than his brother. He lets out a long sigh and shakes his head. "You know what she did the other day? She—"

Rex catches himself and stops when he sees the look on Fives' face. He clears his throat and looks away, his face heating up. He should know better than to let himself get caught up like this.

"Never mind," Rex mumbles.

"No, no," Fives chuckles. "Please. Continue. I'd love to hear about her."

"Don't be an ass."

"I'm not," Fives protests, and he grins, his tone light. "I'm serious. I wanna know."

Rex stares at his brother and then glances around the room, making sure the other clones aren't paying them any mind. He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly in an attempt to ease the tension from his body, and he meets his brother's gaze, his expression stern.

"If I tell you," Rex mutters through clenched teeth. "Will you shut up about it? Will you let me deal with this my own way?"

"Deal." Fives nods. "I won't say anything. To anyone. I promise."

Rex stares at him for a moment, searching his face, looking for any hint of dishonesty or insincerity, but he finds none. There's only an eager curiosity, and a sincere desire to help, and Rex's expression softens.

He can trust his brother. That much he knows. Even if the others have their suspicions, he's sure Fives will keep his word. And he's not about to pass up the opportunity to talk about her. He never passes up the opportunity to talk about her.

He'd be an idiot to do so.

"Okay." Rex nods. He lets out a long sigh and shoves his tray aside, folding his hands on the table. He takes a deep breath and leans forward, his voice low, the words coming out in a rush. "We talk. Every day, sometimes a few times a day. Since Kamino. We just started talking, and we've just sort of kept going, and it's...it's good."

"What do you talk about?" Fives asks.

"Everything," Rex replies honestly. He can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but he ignores it, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He looks down and taps his fingers on the table in a slow rhythm. "We talked on the holo for the first time last night. She said that, uh...well, she said..."

He trails off, his eyes landing on the viewport, the stars blurring into white streaks as they streak by. He can still hear her voice, the warmth and tenderness, and his heart aches, a pang of longing surging through him.

“We're going to meet for lunch today," he blurts, his face heating up as he thinks about what else she'd said. "I...I asked her."

Rex glances at Fives and holds his breath, waiting for a reaction. But his brother doesn't move. He's still sitting there, staring at him, his eyebrows raised, his eyes wide.

"Did you hear me?" Rex asks warily.

"Yeah," Fives says, blinking. He shakes his head, as if snapping himself out of a trance, and he smirks. "You...you're going on a date."

"No. Yes. I mean, no," Rex stammers, and he lets out a long exhale, his fingers flexing, his nerves starting to get the better of him. "It's not a date. We're just going to eat. Together."

"At a restaurant."

"Yes."

"That's a date."

"No." Rex frowns. "No, it's not."

"Oh, it's totally a date," Fives laughs.

"It's not a date," Rex insists, and his face grows even warmer, the tips of his ears burning. "It's just two friends. Eating. Together. I have some intel she needs. It's...it's a work thing."

Fives gives him a long look. Then he shakes his head and leans back, folding his arms across his chest. He raises an eyebrow, his tone skeptical.

"You have some intel she needs," Fives echoes. “And you couldn’t just…give it to her over the comm? Wait until the next time we see her? It had to be in person? At a restaurant? You really expect me to buy that, Captain?"

"It's the truth," Rex grumbles, and he glances around the room. "And keep your voice down."

"No, the truth is that you've been in love with her for months, and now you finally have a chance to get closer to her, so you're taking it," Fives counters, his voice laced with amusement. He leans forward and rests his forearms on the table, giving Rex a pointed look. "And it's not a bad plan. I'm impressed."

"Don't be," Rex grumbles, and he pushes his tray aside, surrendering to his lost appetite. He crosses his arms and slumps down in his seat, and he tries to ignore the churning in his stomach. "Because it's not gonna happen."

"Why not?"

"You know why," he sighs. Rex runs a hand over his head and frowns. "There's no future here. Not for me. And I'm not willing to risk what we already have. It's not worth it."

"That's a copout," Fives declares, and he sits back, folding his arms across his chest. "You're a soldier. You've risked your life for less."

"That's different," Rex argues. He waves a hand at the viewport, gesturing to the stars. "This is bigger than me. Bigger than her. I'm not about to jeopardize everything for my own selfish reasons. That's not how it works. It never has."

"Maybe it should," Fives says gently. "You can't spend the rest of your life fighting a war and never get to live your life. It's not right."

"Maybe not. But it's not my choice."

Rex lets out a long exhale and rests his head against the chair, his eyes closing. It's a conversation he's had countless times, both with himself and with his brothers. It's not his choice. It's never been his choice. But that doesn't stop the regret. The longing. The guilt. 

He knows it's selfish. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about the possibility. And yet, every time he sees her, his heart aches. He thinks about the future, the things he'll never have, the things she'll never have. And he wishes things were different. He wishes they could have a chance.

Meeting Cut and his family on Saleucami had shifted something in him, and it's a realization that has made the past few weeks agonizing. The domesticity. The family. The warmth and comfort. It had awakened a desire that had lain dormant within him, and it's a hunger that has only grown since he'd seen them, a yearning for more than a lonely bunk and a war that has no end.

And it's a longing he's sure she shares. He's seen the way her eyes light up when she's around children, the soft smile on her face, the way her features relax and her posture slumps. It's not often. She's always careful not to show her hand. But he's caught glimpses. Brief moments of vulnerability and longing and a quiet, desperate sadness that makes his heart ache.

She wants more. They all do. But it's not the kind of thing they can have. And especially not with each other.

"You've already jeopardized everything," Fives says, and Rex opens his eyes, glancing over at him. His brother shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Why not go for broke?"

"Fives," Rex warns.

"No, I'm serious. You're talking to her. You're meeting her in person. You're sharing secrets. You're putting your life in her hands," Fives points out, and he waves a hand at him. "I'd say you've already passed the point of no return. What difference is a little bit more going to make?"

"A lot of difference," Rex replies, his tone harsh. He sits up and meets his brother's gaze. "And that's not fair. We're friends. That's it."

"Friends," Fives repeats, his tone flat. "Yeah, I know."

"Don't give me that look."

"I'm not giving you any look," Fives laughs, and he stands up, placing his empty mug on his tray. Rex does the same with a forlorn look to his half-finished breakfast. "I'm just saying that, if I were you, I'd go for it."

"You'd be an idiot," Rex mutters.

"Maybe. But I'd be happy. And you would be too."

Fives pats him on the shoulder before he picks up his tray and starts walking away, and Rex follows, his steps slow and reluctant. They reach the chute, and he lets the tray fall through the hole, the metal clanging loudly and drawing a wince from Rex.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Fives asks as they walk towards the door.

"What's the worst?" Rex echoes incredulously. "What's the worst?"

"Yeah," Fives says. He holds the door open and ushers Rex through, and they step into the hallway, the sounds of the mess fading behind them. "So you get rejected. Big deal. It happens to the best of us."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

Rex stops, his boots coming to a halt on the tile with a sharp squeak, and he turns to face his brother, his lips thinning, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm a clone, Fives," he says quietly. "And so are you."

"Yeah, I know."

"The clones have a place," Rex explains, his tone sharp. He's not sure if it's the lack of sleep, or the stress, or the sheer audacity of his brother, but his patience is quickly waning, and the frustration is beginning to rise within him. He can't believe he'd even suggest something like that. As if he hasn't spent months agonizing over the very thing Fives is asking him about. "We have our job. We have our role. And that's it. There is no other option."

"Rex—"

"No," he interrupts, and he shakes his head, his expression hardening. "We've been over this. We've talked about this. Multiple times. You know damn well what the worst is."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Fives mutters, rolling his eyes. "They'll decommission you. But they wouldn't do that."

"They would," Rex insists, and his hand twitches. He wants to grab his brother by the shoulders and shake some sense into him, but he restrains himself, his tone growing more agitated. "You think they wouldn't? If they knew about this, they would. And I wouldn't blame them. It's unprofessional, and irresponsible, and completely unnecessary. This is not a joke, Fives. This is our life."

"But—"

"I am not going to be a liability," Rex snaps, and his jaw clenches, his eyes flashing with anger. "And I am not going to be responsible for ruining her life. She's been through enough, and the last thing she needs is to have to choose between me and her duty. So stop."

Fives looks up at him and then down the hallway, his eyes landing on the group of clones heading their way. They're talking among themselves, and laughing, and there's no sign that they're paying them any mind, but the two of them fall silent anyway. Fives takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his expression sobering.

"Look, I'm sorry. That was stupid. I know," he apologizes, his tone sincere. "I wasn't thinking."

"Then why are you doing this?" Rex demands. He lowers his voice and adds, with no small amount of pleading, "Why are you trying to get me worked up? It's not funny."

"I'm not trying to," Fives says, his shoulders sagging, and he gives Rex a concerned look. "I'm just...You need a push. Or a kick in the shebs."

"Not this kind of push," Rex replies, and he lets out a frustrated huff. "Just stop. Please."

Fives' face falls, and he looks genuinely sorry. It's not an expression he sees often, and it's not one he's ever seen aimed at him, and Rex finds himself feeling slightly guilty for being so harsh.

"This isn't easy," Rex sighs, and he scrubs a hand over his face. "And it's not simple. There's no happy ending here. There's nothing good that can come of this."

"Nothing good?" Fives repeats, his eyebrows raising, and Rex rears back, his eyes narrowing, his stomach clenching. "Really?"

"What?" Rex asks warily, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"You're not serious. Are you serious?"

"What?"

Fives stares at him, a dumbfounded look on his face. He shakes his head and gives him a pitying smile, and Rex feels his face heat up, a sick feeling swirling in his stomach. He hates that look.

"What?" Rex asks again, and Fives shakes his head.

"I don't know whether to be jealous or worried about you," Fives sighs, his voice laced with sympathy, his eyebrows rising higher. "How can you say there's nothing good that can come of this? She's...well, you know. I don't have to tell you."

"I..." Rex stammers, the words catching in his throat, and he looks away, a blush rising to his cheeks. He clears his throat and crosses his arms, his shoulders hunched. "I'm aware."

"And you think that's not worth it? Worth the risk?" Fives scoffs, and Rex scowls. "If I had the chance, I'd take it."

"Of course you would," Rex mutters, and he rolls his eyes, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself.

"You're an idiot," Fives says, shaking his head, and Rex shrugs, not denying it. "You're an idiot who's in love with a woman who is definitely into you, and you're going to miss your chance because you're a damn martyr."

Rex glances over his shoulder, and then back at his brother, and he sighs, running a hand over his face. A few clones walk past them, and he waits until they're gone before he answers, his tone weary.

"Maybe," he says finally. "But it's the right thing to do. And you know it."

Fives gives him a sad look, but he doesn't say anything more. Instead, he puts a hand on Rex's shoulder and gives him a small, encouraging smile.

“Alright then,” he says softly. He squeezes his shoulder. "Let me know if you change your mind."

"I won't," Rex mutters, and Fives chuckles.

"We'll see," he says, and he gives Rex one last pat before he turns to walk away. “Enjoy your date, vod."

"It's not a—" Rex stops when he sees the smirk on his brother's face, and he lets out an exasperated huff, a smile tugging at his lips as he shakes his head. "You're a di'kut."

"Takes one to know one," Fives calls over his shoulder.

Rex rolls his eyes and watches Fives disappear around the corner, waiting until he's gone before he moves. His steps are slow, and hesitant, and the weight in his stomach grows heavier with every passing moment. He knows he should feel relieved, and he does, a little, but it's not nearly as comforting as it should be.

He wants her. Badly. He can admit that much to himself. He'd never imagined falling in love, and certainly not with a Jedi, and yet, it had happened so effortlessly that he hadn't even noticed it until it was too late. Now, all he can think about is how happy he is to talk to her, and how much better he feels after a single conversation, and the warmth and comfort and peace he feels whenever she's nearby.

It's a nice thought. A tempting thought. One that leaves him yearning for things he'll never have, and a future that will never be, and he closes his eyes, a long exhale escaping him as the pain in his chest swells.

As much as he hates to admit it, Fives is right. He needs a push, or a kick, or a slap in the face. Something. Anything. Because if he doesn't, he's not going to be able to keep this up. He's not going to be able to keep pushing his feelings aside and burying them under protocol and duty and honor.

He's crossed the line already. He's been crossing the line for months now. He's in too deep. And he needs to figure out how to get himself back out.

Or, if Fives is right, maybe he needs to stop trying to swim against the current and just let himself sink.

He can't decide which option would be worse.

But either way, he needs to figure it out. Soon.

He's got a lot of thinking to do, and only a few hours left until his lunch with her. And if the last few months have taught him anything, it's that a few hours is not a lot of time.

Not when he's dealing with her.

taglist: @cyaretra @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @dustmusings @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831

[miss0atae]

Random Thoughts about The Next Prince (EP 1)_PART 1: What makes a family and is lying always wrong?

I was really struck by the sentence Khanin said to Charan. When the latter told him he was here to protect him, Khanin retorted that he was actually destroying his life. It made such an impact on me because it made me think about the “double effect”. Sometimes you can cause a harm as an unintended side effect of doing a good action. In this case, Charan merely came to protect Khanin and to be able to do this, he became the catalyst to reveal the truth of Khanin's real identity. He also unveiled that the foundation of what Khanin knew to be true were in fact not real.

We learn from Thatdanai that Khanin's grandfather asked him to raise him to protect him. When Khanin was only one year old, his mother was ambushed and died. Fortunately, Khanin was saved by Thatdanai and they went abroad to avoid any other attempted murder. Only a few people know about the truth, the others think Khanin died along his mother. However, in London, Thatdanai raised Khanin like his own son. I have to admit, I had so many questions after learning this:

Why Khanin’s grandfather could ask Thatdanai to rescue Khanin, but didn't ask him to save his mother?

Is Prince Tharin aware that his son his alive and if it’s true how does he cope with this?

Who decided it was a good idea to pretend Thatdanai was Khanin’s father? Was it a decision from his grandfather or Thatdanai decided to take this role by himself?

Would it have made a great difference in their relationship if Thatdanai always told Khanin he was adopted?

What lies did he tell Khanin when the child asked him about a potential absent other parents’ figure (like a mother)? I bet he had questions at one point.

How did they plan to tell the truth to Khanin before and how much the way Charan dealt with Khanin’s protection changed this plan?

What is sure is that Thatdanin has been a great father to Khanin because upon learning the truth, Khanin can’t stop mourning the loss of Thatdanin as his father. He doesn’t care about his true identity as the sole heir of a noble/royal family. It doesn’t matter to him too that his biological father is still alive and that he also has a grandfather. What matters is that he is losing Thatdanin, the only father he has known and the one who was here in every moments of his life until now. The loss is so hard and it takes such a toll on him because he is literally begging Thatdanin to remain his father. Khanin doesn’t want to go to Emmaly to fight to be the next king. Even if he has been raised in the Emmalian’s culture, he isn’t really looking for going back to this place. He is actually quite happy about his life in London: he has a good life, a loving father, great friends and he is doing both good in his studies and in his chosen sport. Why would he go to a country where he has none of this to fight for something he never asked for? It’s true that Charan’s arrival “destroy” the life he has always known. After all, what makes a good father and is blood thicker than water? Khanin would say the answer is no.

His biological grandfather decided with Thatdanin that it was better to lie to Khanin until now and they shouldn't be surprised that Khanin doesn't take it well. Both never took actions to make that big reveal easy to cope with. I think the rightness or wrongness of lying works hand in hand with ethics and morality. So what is commonly admitted as morally wrong? I think we could say that if you are doing something harmful and causing harm to someone, it's morally wrong. So when you're lying and you're causing harm to the person you are lying to, then it's morally wrong. However, there is an ambiguity when it comes to tell what is harmful. Khanin's grand-father and step-father decided to lie to him in order to protect him and thus they probably believe that theirs lies were not harmful because they have a selflessly intent at core. In fact, the rightness or wrongness of a lie depends on the consequences of the lie. However, by lying to Khanin both his grandfather and his step-father robbed him of the opportunity to decide for himself. It also had an impact on the trust Khanin have for Thatdanin and will probably also have an impact on the trust he can give to his biological relatives. There is one thing that is sure, no matter what intent you had when you make a lie, it will always harm someone in one way or another. Khanin's harm isn't only on the trust he will have for his family, but also on other parts.

Indeed, he will certainly experience being lost because he can't trust what he has lived until now and probably will question himself, his choices, his hobbies or passions. Are the truly him or something his family and protector wanted him to be? (could be both to be honest) I wouldn't like to be Khanin right now because it is not easy to reassess your entire life. There is no doubt he will need to be helped. Charan, despite being the catalyst of everything that changed for him, may become the support he needs, after he forgives him of course. However, Charan will probably be the only person he can trust after this, especially in Emmaly where he knows no one.

On a side note, I wonder if Khanin will find it easy to adapt to Emmaly. Despite the fact his step-father taught him the culture of Emmaly, it seems like he still can't fully grasp it (he still ignores parts of it as it was shown with the tale of Emmalian kiss). Will he feel the cultural dissonance when living in Emmaly and how will he be able to overcome this? I wonder if the story will show us this.