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kingtomura · 1 year ago

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Good Girl

Summary: It’s not your fault that your boyfriend was hard for people to warm up to. God, your parents are so lame. But so were you. So you did what anyone else with strict parents would, and you cut him off.

Bad idea.

Word count: 4k

part two is here!

Content: Tomura Shigaraki x female reader, explicit content, kinda quiet sex, cunnilingus, praise, slight humiliation, unprotected sex, strict parents, toxic relationship with parents, AU - no quirks, no use of y/n, gets a little mushy at the end im sorry

You would rather be anywhere else but here. You would pay to be anywhere else but right here, right now being scolded like some teenager who had been caught sneaking out after curfew. But you were here and you weren’t going anywhere any time soon.

“He’s just not good for you,” your father’s voice stressed. It dragged on, pulling you from your drifting thoughts. “You have so much ahead of you and we even agreed to this gap year so that you could figure out what you wanted to do, not so you could run around with some delinquent boy with no future–”

“He‘s not a delinquent,” You cut off, “you’re judging him without even giving him a chance.”

Your father sighs, knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, but knowing you inherited his stubbornness has never detoured him from taking your objections head on. He’s been on this earth longer than you, butting heads with others longer than you have. “Well, whatever he is, he’s not allowed to see you again. That’s final.” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. False air of nonchalance sending fury through your veins.

There would be no more arguing and you knew it. You desperately look to your mother, who is in her usual stance of resignation and uselessness when it comes to his word. If she saw things your way, she would never say. And even if she agreed with you, there would be no change. It has always been your father’s way or no way.

“I’m an adult, you can't tell me who I can and can’t see.” you try once more, not ready to end things here. It’s suffocating.

He scoffs, bringing a hand up to count his fingers, “You live under our roof, you eat our food, you drive our car, you give me attitude when I agree to give you time to figure out your life when you decided to leave university after two semesters,” his voice is rising and you begin to feel your eyes burn with the threat of tears, your chest tightening as its harder to catch a breath. You can’t cry here, it would only make things worse. “I don’t think it matters how old you are. I am done with this conversation. End things with him now or you won't have a pot to piss in by the end of the day.”

This cannot be happening. You're still sat on the plush sofa of the living room as your father stalks off with your mother in tow. The latter only glancing back with an empty look of pity as you stare at where your father had just been. Words burned into your mind while hot tears finally break and run down your cheeks. This is really happening.

And Tomura was going to be upset.

In a perfect world you could meet up with him tonight, talk it over, or even run away together and leave all this behind, but you know better. You know the two of you haven’t dated long enough to warrant running away together, but it still crosses your mind. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before and it's painful to think you never will again. Tomura just made you feel so.. Alive. There was so much to him and his witty dry humor that keeps pulling you in.

He’s cynical, he’s moody and sometimes he’s mean but god he could be so soft. Touch you in ways that felt like he reached your soul. Quiet nights where you would stay at his house and watch him play video games would turn into late night sessions of making love until the twilight of dawn peeked through the dark curtains of his room. There was no way you could let him go. But you had to. You had to. Your father had given you no other choice. So you take the coward’s way out.

You text him.

You send him a short text that would send you to the bathroom dry heaving, but you didn’t know what else to do. What more could you say other than your father had snapped at you and you both could no longer be together. It would hurt so much more facing him head on. You knew that if you had to speak to him face to face that you would crack, probably throw out your silly idea of running away together and then face the awkward rejection. This was all you could manage. You felt awful for it, finally forcing yourself off of the floor and dragging your feet to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

It had been hours and there was no response from Tomura. You couldn't blame him. What could anyone say to a break up text? You hollowly hoped he would fight for you. Even a little. But the flat Read 14:57 showed you otherwise. This had now become a heartbreak you werent quite expecting. You couldn’t help but second guess every interaction you had with him before. If maybe you read into things a little too deeply. If maybe, some smaller, quieter part of you dreaded your father was right.

There was no use of dwelling on that now. No point in running through what you would never know. So, you sighed, and finished up in the bathroom. Slipping on your silk sleeping gown that stopped above your knees and adjusted the small straps on your shoulder. You had cried for hours after your argument – if you could even call it that– with your father was over and your face ached. The bags under your eyes showing the worse for wear state you had found yourself in. it would be okay, you told yourself. You just have to sleep it off.

And that was your plan and you slid into your welcoming bed, soft comforter embracing you and your worn feelings. You feel more tears begin to sting behind your eyelids before there's a sudden tap at your window.

A trick of the wind, you decide and return to your somber thoughts.

You would have to move on eventually, but tonight? He was the only thing on your mind. His eyes, his hair, the way he would feign annoyance when you were overly touchy, craving closer contact. He always indulged you. Always gave you more, you knew he liked it as much as you did. You were lovesick.

Tap.

There was that noise again. Louder than before as if someone had thrown a rock right at your window. The room was still and quiet so you knew it hadn’t been your imagination.

Jumping to your feet and shuffling towards the window in question you brushed your curtains to the side to see the possible culprit. And when you do, your heart drops and instant regret fills you. Stomach aching as you take in the sight before you.

It’s Tomura Shigaraki and he is pissed.

Tomura, your Tomura leering up at you with another rock resting in his hand, bigger and ready to be tossed at your window if the last attempt didn’t work.

You look around, knowing no one is in your bedroom but yourself and the moonlight, then go to open your window, ducking your head out to get a better look at him. There he was, black hoodie oversized and so soft, red eyes burning in anger but you aren't scared. You’re relieved, it's him. He's here to see you, mouth turned down in a scowl and fists clenched in fury but he was here.

You couldn’t stop your hushed whisper, “what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk.” Was his only reply before he dropped the rock and walked towards your window. It wasn’t terribly high up, but higher than he could reach without a bit of help from you.

Now that he was closer you could see the anger in his posture much more clearly. All tense shoulders and narrowed eyes. It was enough to make your stomach turn. You couldn't help but worry your bottom lip as he pulled out his phone and took a step closer.

“Really? Over a fucking text message?” He hissed, rasp in his voice, uncaring of the time of night or who could hear.

“Tomura, shh, please–” you tried, hands coming up to placate him, if only a little. Your father would have your head if he heard another man in his home, let alone Tomura Shigaraki.

He huffed a sarcastic laugh, disbelief taking over his features, but he obliged, “I don’t care what your father told you. He can’t control who you talk to.”

You shake your head, the all too familiar sting of tears in your eyes threatening to fall, “I know. I told him that, but he threatened to kick me out, to cut me off. I’m sorry Tomura, but I can't.”

“He can't do that.”

You nod, knowing all too well that your father would go through with his threat. “He can. Technically. I'm an adult, so it’s his choice.” The tears fall now, seeing the rage dissipate from Tomura, slight drop of his shoulders showing disbelief and disappointment. It's too much. This is why you didn’t want to see him, couldn’t face him. “I'm so sorry,” you whisper, trying to hold in the sobs threatening to wrack your body and possibly wake your parents up. This could not have ended worse. “I don't want it to be this way.”

“Wow, I didn't know you were such a good girl.”

Your breath hitches, caught off guard, “What is that supposed to mean?”

He shrugs. “I didn't know you did everything daddy says. What a good girl you are.” The tone is one you’re familiar with. Condescending. Challenging. He’s testing you.

Your cheeks flushed. What could you say? That you’re not a good girl, actually. Then what would that make you? A bad girl? You would walk right into his trap. He’s watching, waiting for a response. Something to make you slip up.

You don't have the chance to respond before he’s taking a step forward, lifting your chin with a finger so that you could look him in the eyes. Even in the dim lighting of the room those crimson eyes looked into your own. Like he was delving deeper, looking for the response that you can't seem to give him. Nothing else matters in this moment. It’s just him and you and the pale moonlight dancing between you. The air is tense and unmoving, like the smallest noise, the faintest blow of wind would ruin this moment.

You couldn’t take it, couldn’t wait another minute before your body moved, leaning forwards onto the tips of your toes to give you more leverage as your lips pressed to his. His lips were still cold and dry from the cool air outside but that didn’t matter. Nothing matters more than knowing you needed more of him and you needed it now. Tomura’s hand came to rest at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer and the kiss deeper. Taking all of you in as his other hand gripped your waist.

Your hands wasted no time burying into his hoodie – so soft and worn– the faint smell of citrus and cedar being a comfort as the intoxicating kiss deepened. Tomura wasted no time, slick tongue entering your mouth, hungry, like it was the last time you would have him this way. It was too much. It was not enough. You broke the kiss, a string of saliva following the short distance you put in between. Air seemed sparse, like you couldn't get enough and Tomura spoke before you could.

“Get on the bed.”

And you did, newfound vigor in your step as you eagerly did as what you were told. Energy ebbing through your veins as excitement overtook your previous anxiety. Tomura was a mere step behind, discarding his hoodie without care and joining you on the bed, caging you beneath him as he dove back in for another kiss, wet and warm, before trailing lower. Open mouthed kisses to your jaw, then neck, his hands, rough and warm gripping your thighs, taking in all he can. After leaving a particularly hard bite on your neck, Tomura lifted your gown up, smooth silk gliding with ease above your ass and resting below your breast. It was only natural for your legs to spread for him, cool air on your bare cunt making you shiver.

“Oh?” An amused huff from the man above you makes your cheeks heat further than before. He’s seen you like this many times before, but he’s always had a way of making you feel shy. “No panties, huh?”

You push past your embarrassment. “You know i dont wear them to b– ah!” you're cut off by the feeling of his finger sliding between your folds, slick making it glide, and rubbing over your clit. The surprise of the motion makes you press your thighs closer together. Tomura grins above you, before bringing his wet finger to his mouth, a mocking shh following the motion, tongue flicking out and licking the digit as his other hand pushed your legs apart again.

He bends down, bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your bare cunt. He’s so hard and that thought only makes you wetter. Tomura’s nose brushes yours, your eyelids fluttering shut as he dives to kiss you again. All open mouthed and wet. You could taste yourself on his tongue as well as feel the pressure of his clothed erection grind against you, rubbing against your bundle of nerves. You are sure your slick is dampening his sweatpants but Tomura doesn’t care. He’s grinding you into the mattress and you’re so close to begging him to get on with it you want to scream. But almost like he’s read your mind, he pulls away.

The kisses he places along your body set your nerves on fire, anticipation eating away at your patience as he takes his time. Once he’s reached his destination, right between your thighs, he places one wet kiss onto the plush of your inner right thigh. Another teasing move. Another way to make you squirm in excitement. He looks up at you, ruby eyes gleaming in the moonlight of the room.

“Be quiet for me, yeah?”

Tomura huffs a laugh at your eager nod, grin growing wider. So quick to please. Dedicated. “Good girl.”

The praise makes you falter for a second, embarrassment threatening to make its way to the surface once more. There was no time for it now, Tomura enjoyed catching you off guard. Loved surprises. He wastes no more time, tongue licking a wet strip between your lips. The action causing you to moan louder than you intended. Your hand rushes to cover your mouth. If you were to be caught in this predicament by either of your parents it would be horrendous for the both of you.

This doesn’t stop Tomura, though. If anything you were starting to think it encouraged him, because his relentless pace on your cunt was driving you wild. His long stripes simmered into just the tip of his tongue flicking your clit and sending jolts of pleasure roaring through you. You were already close, pleasure and pressure building and building until you were so close to tipping over–

Knock knock.

“Hey sweetie. I know it's late, I just wanted to talk for a second.”

It was your mom. Holy shit it was your mom and there's a boy in your bed with his head buried between your legs and holy shit. If she opened the door, if she barged into your room in the familiar way she always had a bad habit of doing, you would be done for. With wide eyes and accelerated breaths, you clamped down harder over your mouth with both hands. Even Tomura stopped in his tracks, gaze lazily focused on the door with curiosity bleeding into his indifference.

Your mother must have taken the silence as a sign of slumber, yet she continued. Voice muffled by the door between you both.

“Your father... was harsh today. And I’m sorry for that.” She pauses, long enough for you to believe she would be giving up and going back to her bedroom. You aren't so lucky, surely at this point you were very unlucky and you dreaded whatever else she had to say. “I just want you to know that he just wants the best for you.” your heart drops as she carries on, unaware and unconcerned of the other pair of ears listening in to her words. “We don’t know him that well. We can't risk you getting involved in something you're not ready for and throwing your future away.”

At this, Tomura rolls his eyes, interest clearly lost and goes back to his earlier movements. The sloppy kiss to your clit catches you off guard and forces a whine out of you. It was small, but still a noise. Squeezing your eyes shut you prayed this would be written off as an odd sleep noise. Wishing to the sky that it wasn't noticeable and Tomura would stop. He didn’t. It was in that moment he decided pressing a finger against your entrance would bring out more noises. The digit slipping in with minimal effort and adding more pleasure to this mix as he sucked your clit.

If your mother heard anything, she didn't make it known. The floorboards outside of your door creaking with the shifting of her weight. “Well, maybe we can get ice cream or something tomorrow. Have a little girl’s day?” The silence is palpable as she waits for an answer that won't come. “Okay well, goodnight sweetie. See you in the morning.”

You don’t know what you're more grateful for; the sound of her receding steps or that fact that Tomura wasn't cruel and waited until the telltale sound of a door opening and closing rang through the air before adding another finger and curling them. This time you couldn’t bite back the moan that escaped you, hands gripping the cotton of your duvet.

“Aw, how sweet,” Tomura started, sitting up while adding a thumb to your sensitive nub and rubbing slow circles to replace his mouth. “She wants to have a little girls’ day with you.”

His mocking tone would have gotten a reaction out of you any other time, but right now you were so close. On the precipice of an orgasm that’s been drawn out for far too long. You could only look at him with half lidded eyes as his fingers worked like magic sending you closer and closer, your breath hitching as you finally, finally reached the climax. Body shaking pleasure cascades over you like a tidal wave.

“There we go,” Tomura whispers, giving your cunt a playful tap after letting you ride the sensation out. He pulls away completely to take off his sweatpants and underwear, cock already hard and leaking. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips at the sight and you hear his breathless chuckle. “I’ll let you have a taste next time, but right now, I can't wait any longer.”

It was only when he began to line up with your entrance that you absently wondered about the lack of condoms you owned. You look up at him, question burning on your tongue but he only grins at you, and you swore in that moment he was a mind reader. “I didn’t bring any with me, sorry,” his voice was far from apologetic as he stroked his cock, rubbing the head between your folds and against your clit, slick soaking the head. “But don't worry,” he continued, leaning forward and you felt the pressure at your entrance, excitement buzzing through your veins. “I’ll pull out.”

Whether you believed him or not didn’t matter, you had no time to process a thought as he began stretching you to the limit with his size. A gasp escaped your parted lips as the sickeningly sweet feeling of being stretched too far too fast took over. He gave you a minute to adjust, even as his cock twitched in anticipation of movement. The grip he had on your hips was tight enough to bruise and you knew it was taking a lot of his self control to wait for you.

He pressed on, figuring it had been long enough and bottomed out with a sigh. Your walls clenched around him and swore you could cum from the stretch alone. After giving you a second to breathe he pulled back, almost pulling out, only to snap his hips back forward into you. Your head lolled onto the pillow, hand coming up once more to mute the moans dragging from your body. Tomura hoists your legs onto each side of his shoulders,bending them forward and successfully folding you like a lawn chair as he started his aggressive pace, forcing your tight heat to clench around his cock.

“Oh, fuck…” you couldn’t help but mutter as you struggled to hold off your already approaching orgasm.

Tomura saw this as a challenge. “What? You gonna cum on my cock?” he mocked, pace wild and rough, leaving you gasping as you shut your eyes, not ready to admit how right he was. “It's okay,” he continued, leaning closer and allowing his dick to press deeper inside you. The drag hitting the bundle of nerves inside and nearly sending you over the edge. “Come on, cum on my cock like the good girl you are.”

Those words push you over, hips convulsing as your legs shake and it takes Tomura slapping a hand over your mouth this time to quiet you. You couldn’t focus on anything else, let alone keeping quiet. Your body felt light and Tomura fucked you through it. His pace grew more erratic as his grinning face became one of focus, brows furrowing as his eyes shut and he focused on his pleasure. Your pussy squeezing around him making it harder for him to stave off his own nearing climax. You were worried that at this point you were both too far gone. The silence of the home would leave the messy noises between you both loud and clear for the entire house to hear. Tomura was great at keeping his composure but the soft groans coming from your lover only showed how much he was losing his grip.

“Can’t– fuck, sorry–” you didn’t have time to decipher his strange words, your curious eyes meeting his face to gauge his expression before you feel it.

His cock twitches inside you, seed painting your insides white as his thrusts didn't slow. He was hammering away at your insides, only pumping his cum further into you. You feel so full, the warmth spreading over your body like a blanket. He came in you. Even though he said he wouldn’t, he did. The worst part about it? You don’t care. It's invigorating. You feel even more attached to him. Even closer. You want more.

Overstimulated and weak, you whimpered, thoughts swimming as Tomura finally came down from high. Slowing his thrusts and panting heavily. Your heart is drumming against your chest as he removes your sore legs from his shoulders. Shuddering as he slips out of your tight heat, feeling the cum dripping out of you and onto your sheets.

The bed dipped as he took his place next to you. Out of breath and eyes focused on the ceiling. Your ears were ringing with the sudden quietness of it all. Things felt different, heavy.

“You could always just not tell them.” It was Tomura who broke the silence first. “Act sad, mope around, and then come see me at night.”

You glanced over, vaguely registering the sweat cooling on your body. You would need to get up and get cleaned up soon. “Yeah, but if they catch me–”

“They won't. I’ll teach you how.” he turns towards you, bringing a hand to your chin to make you face him. There’s a fuzzy feeling turning in your chest and the familiarity of heat rising to your cheeks is starting to drive you mad. His grin is enamoring, red eyes almost glowing with mischief in the moonlight. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

There's an ache that tugs at your chest as you nod. “Okay.”

You are so fucked.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #mha x reader #boku no hero academia #my works #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #mha tomura #shigaraki smut #fanfic #my hero academia

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oh-no-its-bird · 4 days ago

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Getting deep into the aus in my head rn. Ok so you know that genre of arranged marriage webtoons/novels that's like, "the crazy princess is forced to marry the brave knight by the king, who wants to punish the knight for some reason" and then the princess turns out to either not be crazy or to be amping up the crazy on purpose, probably in order to survive some dark shit happening in the palace?

Ok so like. That. Now make it obkk.

(I'm tempted to say mdtb but obkk just fit better, I think. But also like, shit make it mdtb too, I love this trope)

Now here's the thing; I think there's a super fun argument to be made on both sides for who gets what role.

Crazy prince Obito could totally play into his Tobi persona, which would just be cool symmetry. But also knight Obito could be so cool, just objectively. And it could be interesting to play with a crazy prince Kakashi who like, saw his whole family murdered in front of him and then played up the crazy act to avoid becoming next on the chopping block.

Im going to settle with a prince Obito, so now please buckle up for todays au:

"Crazy" prince Obito who isn't quite as crazy as he seems being forcefully married to war hero general Kakashi of the Hatake dukedom in order to humiliate the Hatake's,,

(this one is nearly 4k words, so we're putting a cut on it)

SO! Starting from the top!

The Hatake dukedom is basically the only power to rival our beloved evil king Madara's throne. Other than them, Madara is pretty much untouchable, so his paranoid ass tries to keep a pretty firm eye and thumb on them. Gotta make sure they remember to stay the hell in line, you know?

So Kakashi is ordered to go to war pretty young, possibly in an attempt to get the young heir killed and cut off the Hatake's at the knees. Only for some years later, Kakashi to pretty much singlehandedly win that war and return this super big war hero. Which is a big problem for Madara, because now the Hatake's have even more political capital. And again, his paranoid ass does not like the possibility of there being someone to rival him in power.

As it is, there are only 3 (living, conscious) Uchiha left.

Madara, who is king.

Obito, a bastard nephew of Madara, who is absolutely fucking insane and only ever let out a tight leash when his insanity amuses Madara. He's only lived this long because his stupidity amuses Madara sometimes, and because he's very clearly no threat to him

And Sasuke, Madara's.... technical spare, who is only allowed to live because of his resemblance to Izuna.

(And somewhere deep in the castle, there sleeps on one Uchiha Izuna, trapped in some sort of coma Madara can not wake him from)

All the other Uchiha were killed (we will return to this) including Itachi and Shisui

(Incidentally, among Kakashi's loyal companions he collected during his years at war, there are two dark haired boys who are so careful to hide their faces when in public. I'm sure there's no relation there.)

So! Kakashi returns from war and Madara is like 'shit, I need to stop this train before it gets too far off the tracks' and invites Kakashi to the palace to "reward" him for his service.

Only when Kakashi gets there, the "reward" he's given is that Madara has arranged a spouse for him— his famously insane bastard nephew.

Getting into the politics of this: Giving him Obito humiliates him in public + gives him a ticking time bomb for a wife + reminds him of his place + gets rid of Obito too, who Madara is probably sick of seeing at this point.

Plus if we like, lean into period typical homophobia or whatever, Madara giving him a husband instead of a wife has implications too. Madara says you will NOT procreate, the Hatake house will NOT have a heir, and if they do then they'll automatically be a bastard who will never have a mother.

Take this crazy guy as ur wife lmao get fucked have fun <3

He's ending the Hatake's and Obito's bloodline in one move, 2 birds with one stone!! He's so smug about this solution he's worked out.

Kakashi, obviously yk, is super offended and panicked and also doesn't even want to get married, especially not to the goddamn famously insane prince, but he cant say no to the king! So he's kind of just forced to bow his head and grit his teeth and say thanks as Madara is all smug and happy on his throne saying some shit about he can't wait for the wedding.

So yk, Kakashi brings Obito home and it's this whole fucking spectacle because Obito is freaking the hell out and acting like a total lunatic

The whole rug pool is that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting. To be clear, Obito does have just a whole list of mental issues, and is genuinely incredibly unstable— he's just also playing it way, way up in order to protect himself from being looked at too hard by Madara.

And obviously, yk, he's suddenly thrown at Kakashi with pretty much no warning for either of them, and he doesn't know who the fuck Kakashi is, other than his reputation for being at war for years now. So he's gonna really crank up the crazy factor because it's the only way he knows how to keep himself safe— at least until he's gotten a better handle of Kakashi what the hell he's all about

Anyways just, Kakashi and his crazy wife Obito,,

Kakashi ofc eventually sniffs out that Obito isn't nearly as insane as he's acting, and Obito is able to act a little more genuine to what he's really like.

Meanwhile we also get lots of Sakumo content, who is around btw and acting Duke Hatake. Also Rin is around, probably as Kakashi's second in command. We also get team ro, who Kakashi collected while he was at war and act as his lill team and trusted confidants

I want to see Obito and Sakumo in particular interacting tbh.

The differences between Madara as Obito's hella abusive shitty uncle who would purposefully provoke and feed into his fits, and his new so much kinder father in law who takes even his best attempts of causing a scene and making a fool of himself with a slow blink and a calm demeanor,,,,,, ough,,

Obito experiences fatherly love for the first time in his life and promptly has several crisis's about it

Now! Rewinding a bit to focus back on Madara / Uchiha situations ->

Madara doesn't really have an official heir. Or he does, but it's Izuna. Who, if you remember, is in that coma.

Madara is deep in denial about the fact that his brother is NOT going to wake up. Get over it Madara, it's been 10 fucking years !!!

Like I mentioned before, Sasuke only got to survive because he looks so much like Izuna. Madara probably straight up calls him Izuna and makes him dress and act like his younger brother sometimes when he's in his worst mental states (it flip flops a lot)

Sasuke can't be around Madara when he drinks bc Madara mistakes him for Izuna and starts alternatively yelling at him for daring to leave him and crying messily all over him

Sasuke is technically heir, but not really. Madara will only ever refer to him as the spare— because obviously, Izuna is going to wake up some day. Obviously. Any day now.

Now obviously, Sasuke already has a big brother! Which Madara does not like. How is he supposed to project all his issues onto Sasuke as a younger brother if Sasuke already has an elder brother?

So like, Madara gets rid of Itachi because he doesn't want Sasuke to have a big brother figure in his life other than him, bc yk, Sasuke is his Izuna shaped stress toy to cope with the loss of his own brother.

Madara sends Itachi to the front lines of the war at like 13 to have him killed. But then Kakashi saves him (team Ro noises,,)

Itachi quietly disappears from the playing field and is written off w the countless unnamed dead, and Madara is satisfied. Meanwhile, a masked assassin joins Kakashi's inner circle,,

(In the castle, in the middle of his grief, an 8 year old Sasuke is told he can address Madara as elder brother)

"How did Izuna even fall into that coma?", I hear you asking. Well!

I am now sliding to u a doctor/mage/saint Tobirama who is somehow the reason Izuna is in his coma (maybe on purpose, maybe by accident)

But Madara can't kill him bc hes like. The best doctor he has. And he needs him to keep Izuna alive in his coma.

"Damn, well how did Tobirama get to be working for Madara?" I now hear you asking

Well! x2, We will now rewind even further, to Madara's childhood ->

Starting it off with: is it even a naruto au without a dash of "childhood friends gone wrong?"

Basically, when Madara was a kid, he got to be close friends with Hashirama. Only for Hashirama to be unwittingly used as a tool by his father, for Butsama to try and overthrow the king of the time, Tajima.

A ploy that nearly worked, Butsama managing to kill Tajima + all of Madara and Izuna's other siblings + most of the other Uchiha right in front of the boys.

At the last second, Madara, with the help of the family's advisor, Zetsu, managed to kill Tajima and divert his plans. But now most of the Uchiha were dead and they had a crisis on their hands.

Madara is put on the throne at like, 13 years old, with only Zetsu to really rely on because everyone else is fucking dead, defected, or suspicious as hell. (Which is why, even decades later, he remains so consistently paranoid of anyone who might have the power to rival the throne; ie, the Hatake)

Anyways. Boy king Madara with his spooky advisor Zetsu at his side.

Zetsu is that trope of a a super obviously creepy and evil royal advisors, you guys know the trope. He is hunched behind Madara's throne whispering into his ear

"Kill them sire,,, they disrespect you,,,"

He like helped raise Madara when he was a young so Madara is DEEP in his pockets. After all, after the Uchiha were nearly overthrown, he was the only adult figure Madara had to depend on.

(To be clear, Madara himself is a shitty person. Zetsu is his own brand of spooky evil guy, and yeah he's a terrible influence on Madara, but Madara has made his own shitty evil choices in this too.)

After everything settled down, Madara had to decide what the hell to do with the remaining Senju— including Hashirama and Tobirama, who were also now among the only survivors of their clan.

Hashirama never meant to betray Madara, but he still did, and for that Madara can bear to look at him or he'll begin to feel sick.

Madara ends up being unable to kill his old best friend (even as Zetsu urges him to do it), and instead just sends him off to some temple deep on the edge of the kingdom, under heavy guard, basically banished from everywhere else in the kingdom. Hashirama goes quietly.

Tobirama, however, he keeps. Forced to serve in the palace as a sort of doctor.

Put him in some sort of magic collar that means he can't disobey a member of Uchiha royalty or smthn fun and fucked up like that, it could be fun. Collar that man !!!!!

Its enchanted w an order like, "you must follow every order given to you by the king" and then later down the line (when Madara is inevitably overthrown) Madara tries to order Tobirama to do smthn, Tobirama just looks at him coldly and goes "you are king no more."

I think whether Tobirama put Izuna in a coma or not would be left intentionally vague. We never know. Not even I know.

Maybe it was an accident, and Madara can only assume the worst because of who his father was and his clear hatred of the Uchiha.

Or maybe it was on purpose, his intrusive thoughts finally winning out. He certainly doesn't seem to have much sympathy or regret for the fact Izuna's been asleep for a decade now

Now, pointing back at Zetsu and Madara

Zetsu is sort of just a generic shadowy advisor for Madara in this. He's running the kingdom behind Madara's shoulder, he just kinda gets to do whatever and thrives bc of it. Zetsu living his best life!!!

Everyone is suffering in some way EXCEPT for Zetsu, who is having a wonderful time

So like. Madara seeming convinced he'll never die. Bc Zetsu has been whispering in his ear ab ideas of eternal life and necromancy, telling him he can rule forever and use this newfound power to wake Izuna. (Which is also ofc why he has no real heir and doesn't seem too worried about it)

(Meanwhile in the bg Tobirama is being used for his research. He's… happy about this, actually. He's thriving, just a little bit. Madara lets him play with dead bodies. And yeah, it sucks he has to obey the bastards commands, he's given p much unlimited funds and just kinda makes cool taboo shit as he researches immortality. He still bitches ab it tho.

Maybe in the end, he'll drag Madara out from the dungeons by the scruff like hes a wet cat and says smthn vague ab how hes going to be calling the shots from now on, and they disappear into the night)

So anyways. Inhuman somehow vaguely immortal Zetsu— who's been running out on his immortality juice.

Maybe we can play w Kaguya and the Hatake clans involvement? Zetsu gets his power from siphoning off of Kaguya, but the Hatake's of these past few generations have been worshipping her too, so she no longer has eyes only for Zetsu— meaning he no longer gets as much power from her.

Which is also why he's pushing Madara to hit the Hatake's w the ban hammer, because he wants them out of the way so Kaguya will look his way again.

(Or at the very least, Tobirama can hurry up and inventory human immortality already so Zetsu can try out a new method)

If you wanna get extra fucky with it, we can go with a 'son of Kaguya' Kakashi au, and throw in even more fucked up moon goddess family drama. Kakashi has no idea he's even related to the moon goddess, but Zetsu is losing his fucking mind because he's no longer his mothers number one special little boy anymore

What even is an obkk au without heaps of family drama in all directions?

Ok so, rewinding back to where we were, with newly wed Obito and Kakashi ->

So, Kakashi has been at war for some years now and has a lot of shit to do and catch up on now that he's back. Including catching back up with his dad, who he hasn't been able to see for any longer than a week tops in years. Very emotional! Very fun! Madara is a bastard for keeping them apart

But specifically tho. Kakashi helping Itachi to reunite with Sasuke.

I mentioned before that Kakashi collected team ro while he was out at war, and each of them probably has some sort of mini quest to fulfil,,

Senju bastard Tenzo who maybe grew up in the same church Hashirama was banished to, but was eventually sent away by Hashirama who couldn't bear to see him live the same isolated life as him (and maybe feared that Tenzo would be killed if Madara heard there was a new mokuton user)

Itachi and Shisui, Itachi being sent away to die and Shisui being an Uchiha bastard who either Madara thought he managed to kill (but escaped the massacre of his own remaining family Madara would eventually pull) or who got sent away with itachi to die at war. And just them wanting to reunite with Sasuke, their only remaining family left, who they worry for every day that he's left alone with Madara.

Im thinking tho. Sasuke eventually somehow escaping on his own (before team ro can even try to sae him) and managing to get to the Hatake dukedom,,,, Kakashi and Obito end up basically adopting him, pass it on

Super emotional Sasuke and Itachi reunion my beloved,,, I want Sakumo to try and dad them both, it'd be fun. Sakumo is just dad-ing everyone in this au, he's so father shaped

Sasuke spending so many years alone w only Madara as his family and maybe a weirdly fucked up and distant uncle-ish energy Tobirama who he regularly sees Madara going out of his way to make his life miserable.

But also like, obviously: Sakura and Naruto. I bet those two helped him escape tbh

Uhh knights in training Naruto and Sakura who are so determined to protect their prince Sasuke (even as Sasuke tells them he doesnt need his protection)

What if Sakura is training under Tobirama in place of Tsunade? Could be fun, idk.

Where is Tsunade in this, is she dead? Was she ever born? Did Madara steal her from Hashirama to make her work in the castle? Could be fun,, on that note too, Orochimaru might be somewhere around here, working with Tobirama to unlock immortality for Zetsu/Madara (*cough* himself *cough*)

Anyways, knights Sakura and Naruto who enter the palace so starry eyed for their beloved king Madara and prince Sasuke,,, only to slowly realize this is NOT the fluffy sparkly fairytale they thought this was going to be.

Im thinking narusasusaku energy where Sakura and Naruto are being silly and competing for their beloved, closed off ice prince's attention, alternating between fighting each other for Sasuke to look at them and teaming up to get rid of potential rivals

Meanwhile Sasuke is looking on at these fucking idiots blatant attempt to throw themselves at him in that way that only kids can, alternating between being annoyed and exasperated and trying to hide how amused he is. They are one of the only bright spots in his life ,,,

Madara doesn't even really have a reason to fuck Sasuke over w them tbh, honestly he might even encourage it just bc they're knights in training and he wants his spare to be well protected (against everyone but him lmao)

Madara is shitty but Sasuke is in this really weird position where he's probably the safest from him. Beccause, you know, Izuna. There's a lot of emotional abuse there and incredibly unhealthy dependency from Madara's end, projecting Izuna onto Sasuke. But for the most part, Madara dotes on him. Because, again, Izuna. Though there's also probably a certain amount of genuine fondness Madara has grown for him

He only really gets violent if it looks like someone will try and take Sasuke away from him (particularly in a familial way, which is what got Itachi (almost) killed)

Naruto and Sakura are deemed safe by Madara because they too are under his control, and every prince does need a good knight.

He might even think their not so well hidden crushes would be good for him, because that way he can count on them to ruin any of Sasuke's future romantic prospects for him. And if Sasuke ends up getting with his knights, he will never have a reason to leave the castle, even once he's an adult. A win win for Madara!

Madara approaching Sakura and Naruto both, telling them he thinks theyre just soooo good at being knights and, obviously you know, as their king he will hope they give him lots of updates about Sasuke.

Both Sakura and Naruto are super starry eyed and all for it at first, but Sakura quickly realizes that Madara is asking them to spy on Sasuke for him.

Sasuke himself is not surprised and probable expects it. This is what Madara has done with every single other person that he's ever looked at longer than 3 seconds.

There is a reason Sasuke has no friends, and it's not just because he doesn't want any. That one time when he was 9 and he told his playmate that he missed his big brother and hoped he would come back soon, only for Madara to later drag him out of bed in the middle of the night, scream at him and threaten to send him to die on the front lines with his brother if he really wanted to be with him so bad— well, that kind of gave him trust issues. Understandably.

Thinking also that over the years, while Kakashi was at war, Madara was keeping Sakumo from going to see his son by claiming he needed him close to the palace. So, like, Sakumo interacting with Sasuke on and off over the years,,, just this occasional figure of stability Sasuke is never supposed to talk to for too long,, this man he knows Madara is scared of, who feels so warm to him.

And Sakumo, missing Kakashi so much, interacting with Sasuke thinking about how 'my son was this small, when your uncle sent him to die' and nearly crying about it later.

Anyways just sasusakunaru,,, prince sasuke and his two knights who enter the castle at like 12, starry eyed and fulled of hope— but slowly becoming disillusioned as they realize what kind of life Sasuke is really living.

Them going from swearing to protect their prince with all the strength and surety of a couple of hopeful kids with big dreams— to really, genuinely meaning it, and eventually helping him escape from Madara's hands.

And then ofc them fleeing to the Hatake dukedom, where Sakumo and Kakashi give him sanctuary and he gets to see Itachi again. Who, by the way, he thought was dead and had NO idea was here. Yayy!

Anyways!

Endgame of Kakashi and Obito overthrowing Madara and tossing him into the dungeons. Tobirama ends up dragging Madara out of the dungeons and they disappear into the night together, never to be seen again. (with the implications of a sudden very sharp shift in power between them something to think about off screen)

Sasuke becomes king bc neither Kakashi or Obito wants the throne, and rules with his trusty knights (and partners) Naruto and Sakura.

Obito is happy being a trophy wife for Kakashi, this is actually his ideal ending (after the horror and stress of adjusting to this new unknown life)

Sakumo meanwhile gets to be godfather of the first sasusakunaru kids and swears to protect the Uchiha family for as long as he can

The end, or something

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asablehart · 4 days ago

Text

thoughts about bird story and a generally rambly blog post.

It's a really interesting piece to me because I deviated a lot from my normal process. To me, it's a creature story, so before I even outlined the piece, I wrote up all of the speculative biology for the space birds. The only other time I did this was for wasp story, which similarly is a story with a plot that replies heavily on the speculative biology of the Creature. For practically any other story, my worldbuilding tends to be Vibes designed to reinforce the plot and characters that I've already decided on.

it's also a lot longer than most of my pieces. You quickly run out of magazines to submit to once you write a story that's more than like 6k words. The sweet spot is often 3k-4k since a few magazines don't really care for flash either. So committing to writing a long story is like... Wow I have to put in more work to write something that will be even more work to publish. I do strongly believe that stories should be as long as they want to be (or as short as they want to be), but there is an art to selecting ideas that work in a specific word count and being able to condense and isolate complicated story ideas into a form that functions as short fiction. At that point I had already devoted a lot of time writing stories where my process was deeply informed by "will this be publishable" (i mean, pretty much as commercial as you can get when you write surrealist slipstream by default) and I just wanted to write something FOR ME with my big squishy creatures.

anyway the outline for bird story clearly placed it at 10k+ words and honestly it was a lot of fun to write. Rarely do I have the space to include explicit sex, little dinner conversations, and subplots into a piece, and it was refreshing to just have the space to explore this world and care less about the word count. I DO really love writing short stories too and I can't say I love novelettes anymore or less than a short story, but just being able to do something different felt like a treat.

by the time I was done I was pretty convinced this was a Lightspeed story. I'm pretty selective about what I send to LS because it's one of the few magazines where I feel like I have a decent understanding of the editorial voice. Of course the problem was that it was ~3k words over LS's already generous 10k limit. It took like a handful of my clarion west classmates to convince me that it is Totally Normal and Okay to query editors (that you have worked with previously) about submitting longer pieces. So the acceptance felt extra special--this editor had already made an exception for me, and then he actually thought the story was worth buying?? that was just nuts to me.

something i learned during clarion west was that i can really trust my instincts with my drafts. i can produce pretty polished drafts in a fairly short amount of time if i set out to do so, which was wild to learn considering im usually a very slow writer who mulls over everything and definitely does not write every day. bird story acceptance taught me that i dont have to be overly concerned with the odds and statistics of publishing, and i can trust that a story is good just because it's good--not because it fits an arbitrary checklist. im trying to use this to take more risks with my process, to be weirder with my ideas and my story structure, and mostly to just have fun and write whatever i want to. hopefully it works out lol

#writing

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an-au-blog · 1 month ago

Text

that holiday zs is coming along WAY too different than the first draft, so imma just post those initial 4k on here bc i just really dont wanna scrap them completely (the intro is kinda the same as the actual fic im posting on ao3 but yk...)

enjoy :))

(this is the actual posted one btw https://archiveofourown.org/works/61647757/chapters/157594045)

The winter months were approaching like a persistent storm, knocking on the doorstep. As vicious as both weather and time, the invites and passive-aggressive messages started again.

It was always "you have to come home for the holidays" and "if you don't come, father will be disappointed," but Sanji hated every family gathering. The fact that he was contractually obligated to go to at least one was disgusting. And even more so that Judge pulled his strings to push him into going to this Christmas party.

Just before he was about to leave his phone, adamant not to answer his sister's texts, her name was displayed again. She was calling him.

Shit... he couldn't ignore her now...

Taking a deep breath, he braced himself. "Hey, Reiju."

"Hello, Sanji." Her greeting sounded as cold as ever.

"I know what you're calling for."

"You do?" Even questions sounded closer to statements out of her lips.

"Yeah, and I'm sure you already know my answer. Did Judge put you up to this?" He never liked getting angry at her, it was not her fault, but he couldn't hide the way he felt.

"Sanji," her voice softened just a tad. "I'm sorry that our father moved the dates for the charity event, there was no way he could have known you wouldn't be in town."

"Don't lie to me. That man planned it, I know him." Sanji was itching for a cigarette. His hands trembled in fury as he opened the box and pulled one out. "He knows I wouldn't be caught dead on more than one Vinsmoke social money-parade! That charity event was the only thing I could stand by willingly and he knew that." He lit his smoke and inhaled the thick scent of it, calming. "And don't call him that, he is no father of mine. I can't recall one time where he acted like one."

"There are two years until the contract is over, please don't do anything to anger him... I don't think he actually wants to see you go."

Sanji couldn't help the sharp and humorless laugh escaping him. "As soon as my restaurant is "payed off" I can promise you, he won't be seeing any of me. It's actually funny to me how his greatest failure is his most qualified employee."

"Sanji..."

"Whatever, I'm going." He put out his cigarette. "Not like I have any choice." The man grumbled.

"Oh, and one more thing." She paused a bit, perhaps waiting for an answer but continued before Sanji did. "It would be wise to bring a date."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She didn't sound teasing or happy. "Just... trust me. And make it convincing."

The line went dead.

Well she never stopped being ominous

Lighting up a second cigarette, Sanji thought on what she said. Perhaps, she was right, if he took someone it could be more tolerable.

But then the problem was, who?

He couldn't take any lady, he wouldn't dare to put a woman through that torture. And it wasn't like he had a lot of friends either. Between helping at the restaurant and slaving away at the Germa company, he didn't have much time to socialize.

He needed someone who would piss off his family and would not be put off by them. He couldn't take any of the cooks... There was Luffy, but Sanji was sure he would try to kill them on sight and as satisfying as that sounded, he couldn't risk anything so close to the finish line.

After an agitatingly long consideration, Sanji took out his phone. Downloading the most popular dating app, he created a profile.

Name:

He furrowed his brows. Considering how this should be approached. Fuck it.

Name: Mr. Prince

Age: 21

Bio: I'm not here to date, I need a fake boyfriend for my annoying Christmas party. If you can hold your own and want a free meal hmu.

He considered not putting a photo, as he wasn't sure if anyone would recognize him from Judge's PR stunts. Sanji opted to taking a picture of his hand holding a cigarette. It might look edgy, it might look suspicious, but he had hit rock bottom a while ago and he was not above pulling out a pickaxe/sledgehammer. //idk which one i should put or do i put smth at all v smsl da e kato "he hit rock bottom but hes ready to go lower"

He scrolled through a couple of profiles, accepting all of them with very little ones he didn't swipe to accept, killing time until it was time yo go to the restaurant.

Not even ten minutes into the shift, Sanji had to turn his phone's sound and vibrations off. The constant buzzing was more irritating than Carne's unstoppable blabbering.

Sanji's smoke break could not have come faster.

With a cigarette in hand, he held his phone in the other. Honestly, he didn't know what to expect... Dick pic, dick pic, a comment about his "slim fingers wrapped around-", alright this was disheartening. He lingered on a profile that looked a bit too suspicious - no photo of the person's face, wasn't in a single frame, just a beautiful orange cat. But reading the bio of the person, Sanji decided to keep on looking, he might be too polite for his family's prodding.

There was another man. He looked, and Sanji was putting this lightly, like a criminal... Or a homeless criminal. Maybe he could give it a shot. He read the man's message.

Gin: I'm down if you're down ;)

Sanji knew better than to be hopeful, but giving it a shot, he typed out and clicked send.

Mr. Prince: down for what?

The ping sounded with the response of the man and it almost made Sanji's cigarette fall on the ground. He had never clicked the block button faster. What a creep.

Checking a few other profiles, he had started to get pissed off. He didn't have much more time left and he was on his third sig, one last profile and he would stop for now. His fingers were going to freeze and he was starting to worry it would snow soon.

Zoro: will there be booze

Sanji clicked his tongue and if he wasn't searching for someone impudent, he would have blocked him just to be petty. But that was probably a good sign. Scrolling though the man's profile told him a few things. Firstly he put his full legal name, so he was either naïve or didn't care much. He hoped it was the ladder. God how he hoped. Zoro, apparently, was well built and even though it said nothing, from the few pictures, Sanji could tell that he did some kind of martial arts. If he was guessing correctly, that would be a safe bet as to where he had gotten all those scars as well, including the one on his face. And that was the other thing: he only had two pictures and both of them were clearly taken by other people. The first one was of him at a bar with two other men, the backs of their heads only visible. It was quite cinematic, enough to make Sanji a bit suspicious if it wasn't just some screenshot from an indie film or something. The second picture was of him in front of a ramen shop, he was laughing at something off screen in a relaxed manner that both exuded confidence and filled Sanji with an ache for the social life he would usually never mourn.

Going back to the chat, he didn't give himself much time to think of a response.

"EGGPLANT! GET YOUR ASS BACK IN HERE!" Zeff's voice echoed.

Typing out a quick response, he pocketed his phone.

"Yeah, yeah, you old geezer! Can the restaurant not burn down every time I look away?" Sanji snapped back.

Zeff laughed. "You've always been funny, little eggplant."

Sanji could hear Patty and Carne snickering. "You- " He could feel his face burning. "Stop calling me that!" Hissing out. "And you two back there better stop laughing, I am the sous-chef, I can fire you!"

"Nah, you won't." Patty smirked.

"You'll always be my little eggplant." Zeff said with a far too fond smile. Damn it old man, how could Sanji stay angry at him?

With a tisk, He rolled up his sleeves again and went back to work.

By the end of his shift, he felt as exhausted as ever. The cook hadn't even noticed when he reached his apartment, or his room for that matter.

He took out his phone to set up another alarm, unsure if he would be able to wake up after his usual two.

Shit. He forgot he texted that guy.

He opened the chat.

Zoro: will there be booze

Mr. Prince: yeah, if you suffer through at least half of it

Zoro: if you dont wanna go so bad just dont

Zoro: also i hope you know ur acc looks like a bot

Zoro: still not sure its not

Damn it, he forgot to answer... At that point it was probably too late for Zoro to answer, but he had to answer now, if he didn't want to leave if for the morning in fear of forgetting again.

Mr Prince: sorry, I just got off work

Zoro: u deff don't sound like a bot atm

Mr Prince: I'm not? a bot??

Zoro: haha even ur responses look like a bot

Zoro: aight, was fun mr botman

Zoro: bye now

Mr Prince: WAIT!!!

Mr Prince: STUPID MARIMO HEAD COME BACK HERE

Mr Prince: FUCK YOUUUU

Mr Prince: GOD YOU RE SUCH A PRICK

Sanji was gripping his phone with anger. He couldn't believe this man was able to annoy him this much with so little words. If his brothers and father had anything in common with him, he would be able to get out of any conversation as long as he stuck with this man. It was a double edged sword, sure, but then again, he wouldn't have to deal with his family. He would chose any stranger over them.

He typed it something, just to delete it again. And again. Again... Damn it, the guy probably already blocked him. Or unmatched him, in any case, it wasn't like anything he wrote from then on would matter. he wouldn't see it.

Mr Prince: sorry

Before Sanji could close his phone, he saw the three dots that indicated the other was typing.

Zoro: damn ur so desperate for me

Sanji could feel his head heat up from anger and... Fuck this guy! What an asshole!

Mr Prince: I take it back.

Mr Prince: Go fuck yourself.

Zoro: no thanks

Zoro: s why i got this app

Mr Prince: ?

Zoro: idc abt relationships but being taken out and getting a good hookup after is easy here

Zoro: whatever tho

Zoro: were u srs abt the alcohol party

Mr Prince: yes

Zoro: cool

Zoro: when and where

Sanji could have gotten whiplash at how fast the conversation switched its tune, but nonetheless, he was too tired to get angrier. Needing this to end, he huffed a sigh and responded.

Mr Prince: It would be best if we meet and talk it out in person

Zoro: k

Mr Prince: Do you know Camie's Cafe? If you are free, we can go this Thursday at around 10.

Zoro: sure

Zoro: damn ur basic

Zoro: coffee date and superslims

Zoro: cant wait to see what ur hipsterass wears

Mr Prince: I am one second away from kicking your face in

Zoro: id like to see u try

Zoro: never been challenged by a failed pinterest collage

Zoro: ig theres a first for everything

The cook knew that answering would only rile him up more and encourage the man, so he ignored him instead. To make sure that he didn't put all his hopes on this overgrown house plant, he went back to looking though his other matches. Pitifully little serious ones. Half asleep he barely managed to go though them before passing out in his work clothes.

Thursday had come far too fast.

The snow was piling up and the little sparkling lights were being hung from traffic lights and leafless trees. Sanji looked at his phone - he was five minutes early.

He fidgeted with his gloves before entering, nervous.

The little bell on the top of the door rung, only making his anxiety spike even more. He scanned the tabled and felt himself able to breathe again when he didn't see the person he needed to meet. Going up to the counter, Sanji flashed a bright smile at the barista.

"Camie, my lovely flower!" He sighed theatrically. "How are you, this fine morning?"

"Oh! Hey, Sanji, I'm doing great. Hopefully, you are too!" The girl behind the counter gave him a friendly smile.

"Ah, well, I'm great! Never been better! Even though I fear that now that I saw you, my day has reached it's peak."

She laughed. "You say the silliest things."

His smile felt a bit less fake. Having to make a pretty lady laugh always made him feel a bit better. t least he could improve someone else's day...

"Hey, Casanova." A rude voice said behind him. "Are you gonna order or just take up the line space?"

Sanji turned around to see some guy. He was muscular and with an ugly scowl hiding behind glasses. The man was still wearing his winter hat but had his jacket unzipped and had nothing but a tank top with a low cut underneath.

"Eyes up here, dartbrow." He snarled.

Sanji looked behind the man, to see that there was no one else waiting. "You can shove your shitty attitude and the rest of the non-existing line up yours, cave man."

"Caveman?" He raised an eyebrow.

Damn, he looked familiar. "Yeah, one who talks big shit and wastes all my time picking fights with random people, like a prick."

"By the time it took you to flirt and throw meaning less blabber at me, you both of us would have gotten our drinks and been out of here."

"Whatever. I don't have time for idiots today." He turned to Camie, who in turn had been using the time of their bickering to make his usual drink. Bless her heart, women really were angels sent from above.

"Thank you, love." He smiled at her, leaving a big tip and the money for his order. Sitting down on a table for two, he took out his phone to text this Zoro guy. He must have been running late, because there was no one in line after the other guy and it was already five past ten.

Mr Prince: Did you arrive?

A familiar ping was heard from next to the counter. Sanji did not look up, as he saw the three dots indicating that Zoro was typing.

Zoro: Yeah

Zoro: ordering something and sitting down

Zoro: some poppas stick figure was holding up the line

Sanji froze on the spot. He was afraid to look up, but not too fond of reading the next message either. Shit... could it be? Did he actually have that much of bad luck?

Zoro: r u here btw

Zoro: ???

With great reluctance, Sanji looked up to the spot at the counter where the man was standing. He was now looking straight at him. Expression blank, just... staring.

He had taken off his glasses and hat, revealing the short green hair that was so prominent in the pictures on his profile. He looked so different when he wasn't smiling and wearing glasses or maybe it was just that Sanji had the talent to make his own life miserable...

The man typed out something on his phone, breaking eye-contact for a mere second, hitting send just to look Sanji in the eye when his phone pinged. A feral grin split his face as he approached Sanji's table.

The cook glanced down to see the notification saying "i think i c u" and cursed himself a bit.

"So what was the plan, exactly..." Zoro crossed his arms, making Sanji's eyes dart to his chest. And now that he was looking, really looking, the man was... handsome to say the least. He had a sharp jaw, he was toned and his chest was wide and muscly, squished like that it almost resembled breasts...

"What, is this a hook up thing or are you actually a scam artist..." Zoro said again, drawing Sanji out of his daze. He was no longer smiling, genuinely pissed off.

The cook's eyes involuntarily darted to the man's chest once more, double, triple take, because damn he was big when he had his arms crossed like that.

"You got a problem with eye-contact there, buddy?" Zoro snarled once more,

If Sanji didn't feel like he had a nosebleed coming along just from looking at him, he would have jumped at the chance to fight him. But bleeding before the fight was far too humiliating. "S- sorry. It's had to- give me a second." He covered his nose and mouth with his hand and looked at anything and everything that wasn't in Zoro's direction. "It's not a "hook up thing", I actually need a fake date..." Sanji kept on looking away.

When he got no response, he dared to look at the man in front of him again. With great displeasure, he found he was giving him the most disbelieving and annoyed look known to man kind.

"Hey!" Sanji shouted. "What the hell is that look for!"

The brute rolled his eye. "This all seems like too much trouble. Why shouldn't I just leave?"

"Because you're here in the first place and if I'm right, your not the type to fo things half-assed."

Zoro smirked.

"And uh..." Sanji looked away. "It's in two days and I don't have time to look for anyone else."

Zoro's smirk disappeared. "Before I give you a yes or no, I need to see your hand."

"What!?" Sanji squeeked. Shrinking into himself as heads started tiring to them.

"Hand." Zoro extended his palm in expectation.

"This is so demeaning." Sanji sighed. He gave his left hand letting the mosshead take it. The cook wasn't sure what he expected but it wasn't to have his hand held with warm hands being turned this way and that. Despite the unhappy look on the man's face, Zoro was... surprisingly gentle.

"No."

"No?" Sanji echoed.

"The other one." He looked at the cook with such determination that it was hard to say anything in response. Speechless, Sanji placed his other hand into thw gentle, rough hands. He watched Zoro look at his hand, running his finger over the knuckle of his thumb. A small smile, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't staring at Zoro, appeared on his face. It was such a faint thing and yet it softened the man's face, suddenly, the beautiful man in those pictures was in front of Sanji.

"Okay." Zoro hummed. He looked up at the cook again.

He was still holding Sanji's hand.

"Okay, what?" The blond pulled his hand away, regretting the loss of the other's warmth immediately. His face felt hot.

"I'll do it. Your family thing."

"Oh? Great!" Sanji beamed. "I prepared a little... uh... thing." He took out a piece of paper. "Before that, I just want to say we should probably put down some boundaries. Whatever you do is fine if it'll help with the convincing. Please do tour best not to get into any physical altercations..."

"They've said I look aggressive but-"

"No, no. It's... well, my brothers are kind of assholes to put it lightly. I really don't give a fuck how you treat them, but leave my sister out of it."

Despite the fact that Zoro's lack of reaction, Sanji decided to continue.

"I took out a few questions to make this more believable. So if we can memorize a few facts about each other-"

"What?" Zoro shot his eye to the blond.

"What."

"You want me to study for this thing? Why would I want to deal with shitty people and-"

"I'll pay you."

Zoro's eyebrow twitched ever the slightest. But Sanji knew. He was interested. Or at least that was what Sanji hoped it was.

"I can pay you if you survive at least two hours at the party. And if you don't fuck anything up for me and convince them well enough of course."

Zoro hummed. If it was enough to cover his debt to the witch... Damn it. He was going to do it in anyway, but this was a very welcome bonus.

"How much are we talking?" Zoro asked.

"You sound like a loan shark."

The green haired man almost chuckled at the irony.

"I'm kind of in a tight spot, myself... so how does a thousand berry sound?"

"A thousand?" Zoro raised an eyebrow.

The blond looked at him with slight disappointment at himself. "No? How about two thousand?"

Damn... Zoro never considered this guy could be rich. "And the free booze?"

"Of course."

Zoro did a half-nod. He reached over and grabbed the paper from the man's hands. "Okay, let's get this over with." He put on his glasses and squinted for a moment as he was reading. "These are some of the dumbest questions I've- what is this?" He looked up at Curlybrows with a mocking smile. "What is this, some kind of "need to know basis to know my lover" questionnaire?" He cleared his throat and started reading. "Number three - Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why? Oh. Or this one -" He pointed at the list as if the other could see what he was showing. "The eighth one: Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common." He laughed. "We just met."

The blond's face became a bright red.

"Oh my God, it is..."

The blond snatched the list out of the green-haired man's hands and stood up. With angry and hurried movements he got dressed and left the building.

Ah. Fuck.

Zoro left his things and ran out after the man. "Hey, wait." He tried but the other seemed to ignore him. He realized he had no idea what the other other person's name was. "Prince!" He yelled, a few meters away.

The snow was starting to pile up, lightly raining and falling on his bare shoulders. It was starting to sting a little, not that it bothered him.

"Prince, wait! Curlybrows, hold on, I'm sorry, okay-" Zoro put a hand on the other's shoulder.

In a flash of movement, unknown how, when or from where, Zoro felt something conecting with his jaw. Painful and unexpected. Zoro stumbled back, if it was him just an year ago, he would have fallen flat on his ass, whatever- whatever hit him-

He looked at the blond man in front of him - leg held in the air and a mean look.

"Fuck off!"

If it weren't all hanging on a thread, Zoro would have tried sparing with the man, but not the place or time... "Curly, look, we're not gonna get to know each other from a morning of twenty-one questions." He dusted himself off, standing up.

The silence he got as an answer was enough to make him continue.

"Clear a day and find a less crowded place and I'll tell you what you want to know." The blond opened his mouth to speakbugot cut off. "What you want to know. Not some pop quiz."

Curlybrows sealed his mouth into a thin line and huffed. "Fine." He shuffled a bit before continuing. "Go back inside before you freez to death."

"I'm fine." Zoro rolled his eye.

"Sure." A sarcastic snarl.

It was almost a year ago.

Zoro was used to going to Luffy's crazy parties, it was a best friend's duty to make sure he didn't break his skull. For some reason, that new year's eve party, Luffy had decided to invite everyone he knows.

It was a mess to say the least.

Zoro lost Luffy in the sea of people within the first hour. He wasn't too worried though, because as far as he heard, he was somewhere with Usopp and that man had as much self-preservation as Luffy had energy. He was at least sure that they weren't going to have to call a hospital this time.

A bit into the night, he remembered a firy ginger-haired girl who bet that she could out-drink him. She introduced herself as Nami, monopolizing the bar area. To her credit - she already seemed a bit buzzed, so when he won, he wasn't too surprised. True, it was her girlfriend, who had called it quits, but it wasn't like she would have lasted much longer anyway.

Zoro had never been a light weight, but the girl had some backbone on her and had him swaying a bit near the end of their drink-off.

He wasn't drunk. No. He could remember almost everything from that night and he had full control of his body. It was just that his brain to mouth filter was even shorter and his reactions seemed slightly slower.

Nonetheless, it was fine.

It was more than fine because that night was about to become the most amazing night in his life.

Umsure of where he was going, Zoro walked around the house, looking for Luffy. There was no sight of him in the past hour or so and it starting to worry the man.

He stood in the midst of one of the larger rooms, looking around. He felt someone bump into him. By the time he had to turn around and see who it was, Zoro barely managed to dodge a knee to his stomach.

There was a blond man in front of him, the most vibrant blue eyes and soft-looking lips, redness in his cheeks and a heaviness in his eyelids - he was clearly drunk. And yet, the blond looked ready to murder him. What a sight.

"Watch where're goin'... " The man slurred his speech.

Zoro didn't have the time to say anything before someone else bumped into them, causing the fall of a plate that Zoro hadn't noticed im the other's hands.

The blond looked down at the fallen food, his eyes quickly becoming red and wet with unshed tears. "Who's gonna eat my cooking now?" He sniffled. " 's all y'ur fault!" He poked at Zoro.

Not minding the comment, Zoro grabbed the plate and knelt down and started collecting the dropped food off the ground. It looked like some kind of pastrie. One of it was stepped on, chocolate spilling from it's side.

When Zoro stood up again, he pretended not to notice that he was being tracked by the bright blue eyes. The blond man reached out to take the plate but stopped when he saw Zoro grabbing a handfull of the pasties and starting to eat them. Not leaving one on the plate, Zoro expected to get scolded for eating dirty food, or maybe the man was drunk enough to get mad for having his food eaten.

But no, he was just watching the other with wide eyes.

"I wanna kiss you..." The blond said, barely above a whisper.

And since his body seemed to move faster than his brain, "You're beautiful" was all Zoro could say in response.

"I'm really tired." After a small pause. "How was it?"

"Delicious. I hate chocolate." Before the blond could comprehend thw comment, Zoro continued. "You made those?"

"Yeah." He nodded. Adorable. " 'm a chef!"

"No wonder you're Luffy's friend." Zoro laughed.

"Imma get my own rest'rant soon!" His eyes sparked. " 's gonna be big an' blue, an' we'll never leave anyone hungry."

Zoro raised an eyebrow, apparently an indication for the other to continue. Small side steps out of the way of one or another person had them somehow on one of the couches. The blond leaning in, enthusiastically talking about cooking with a passion that filled Zoro with warmth he hadn't felt in a while. Even though the drowsiness and fatigue of the night, the man carried on with the intricacies of each dish, product or cooking utensil.

Half-asleep on Zoro's chest, still talking, letting the green-haired man pay with his right hand. Commiting to memory every little cut and mole - like the one on his thumb, or the little calluses on his fingers from holding a knife for hours on end.

When he looked out to see there was snow piling, he couldn't care for it much. He'd never felt warmer.

In the morning, Zoro had gotten up to roam about the house in search of something to drink. One of the things he regretted most. The next thing he knew, he was coming back to an empty couch and Luffy - stuffing his face with eggs that smelled far too amazing to be made by him.

"Luffy, where did the blond cook go?"

Still chewing, Luffy grinned. " 'oro! 'Anji 'e't 'or 'ork."

He left for work?

Zoro had been resigned to the thought of never seeing him again. All until he saw a familiar looking hand on an app he hadn't used in months. But it couldn't be him, right? That would be too good to be true.

#zosan #fake dating au #modern au #zoro x sanji #zoro's kinda an asshole in this one #op #wip fic #unfinished wip

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analogwriting · 1 year ago

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Not the American Average

Sabo x gn!reader

word count: 4k

a/n: disclaimer; i tried my hardest to keep it vague enough to keep it gender neutral. lemme know if i fucked up lmao.

also i was listening to an old middle school playlist when ntaa by asking alexandria played (an old fave of mine, still goes hard btw). and i instantly thought of sabo mostly bc he's british n so is danny (lead singer) and the whole song is just about him fuckin' an american girl (for the first time, i'm pretty sure). ANYWAY i could go on about the lore but this is my first time posting my smut so don't judge me too hard. i also wrote this, in, like, two hours n im v sleep deprived. okie imma stop ramblin' now (idk if you can see it but the bolded is the lyrics of the song)

On a night after heavy drinking, Sabo finds himself stumbling to a hotel with someone he’d been eyeing at the bar all week. He was currently in this town on a mission. With how much he’d had to drink, he couldn’t even recall the mission right now - not that it mattered, it was over with anyway. He was just enjoying the last few nights he had here before he had to move on to the next one.

“One, two, three…four! Here we are,” he said, fumbling with his keys. A giggle escapes from your lips as you hang on his arm. You watched him struggle for a moment before taking them from him and successfully opening the door. He stared at you for a moment, once again, your words ringing in his head. When he had finally built up the courage to seek you out, you had surprised him with all the obscenities you had whispered in his ear. Even church grandmothers’ would’ve fainted at your words - however it had only made his own heart race.

In your drunken conversation, you had told him he could do whatever he wanted. That you could see the feral side of him that he kept deep down within him. That you wanted him to bring it out and use it against you. And he had taken you up on it. It all seemed too good to be true.

Sure, he’s had people say things like that before, but none of them ever stuck through with their words and there was always a hint of hesitation. However, the way you said it? There was a certain tone of your voice that he couldn’t say no to.

He felt like it was a dream. “All the things that you said, was it all in my head?” he mumbled to himself. “Huh?” You turned to look at him and he just smiled, sliding his arms around your waist as he kissed you hard.

He could hear a gasp fall from your lips accompanied by a loud moan. You were just as excited as he was.“Come on, baby…” He kissed at your neck, causing you to moan a little louder. He felt as your hands gripped his sleeves. “Keep it down.” He brought a gloved hand up and traced your jawline before going over your bottom lip.. “Honey, hush your lips.” You pushed forward, kissing him hard and pushing him into the threshold of the dingy hotel room he had been staying in these last few days.

A low chuckle escaped from him as you immediately began to tear off his clothing. He closed the door behind him, doing the same to you. Clothes training from the backdoor, to the bedroom. You two were on a mission and nothing was stopping you, not even undressing. Your lips barely left one another, constant contact was established. An addiction already seemed to be starting to form - which could be dangerous.

Sabo realizes something, chuckling softly. “I’ve been watching you the last few nights and I don’t even know your name,” he purred against your neck as he started to attack it once more. He kissed and bit at your flesh, feeling himself growing harder every time you let out a whine.

Oh, how he loved the way you reacted to his touches. You seemed to melt against him, your body molding perfectly with his. The only regret he had now was not doing this with you sooner.

He watched you as a coy look spread across your face. “Mm, we can do introductions later. Easier for you to degrade me if you don’t know.” You winked at him, and he felt his heart racing. How the hell were you so fucking perfect? You were like an answer to his dreams. Excitement filled his chest and he kissed you hard, gripping your hips roughly. When you gasped, he used this opportunity to let his tongue explore the insides of your mouth.

After a moment, he pulled away, leaving both of you panting. “Give me all you got - make this night worth my time.”

You laugh, and by golly, it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. It’s what drew his attention to you in the first place. He had been in mid conversation with someone when he heard it the first time. His head snapped over so quickly that his colleague was concerned he’d break it. “How about you make this worth my time,” you teased, tugging on his hair to kiss him once more and he groaned against you. Fuck, you and that tongue of yours.

You drove him wild, making him all kinds of excited. He’s never felt so alive. Never had a hookup who met his own energy. He might just have to take you with him if everything went well enough. His cause always needed more people and you seemed competent enough. Or maybe he’d just keep you around as his little whore.

He already knew that he was going to love every moment of this. “What I would give to live this night again,” he mumbled against you once more, his hands trailing down your arms before grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head as he pushed you against the wall. You gasped, looking at him with a mix of surprise and excitement. “We haven’t even gotten to the good parts yet,” you purred, licking your lips as you took him in. The hungry look in your eyes was going to drive him over the edge.

“I knew when I first saw you…” He trailed off, kissing at your jaw and nearing your ear, nipping it lightly. “You’d fuck like a whore.” He felt you shiver against him. You were loving this just as much as he was. “Mmm, only for those who I think have promise.” Oh, such sharp wit.

He watched you for a moment, grinning. Fuck, you were breathtaking. He didn’t know if he just wanted to sit and look at you or absolutely devour you. There was just something about you that made it hard for him to think straight. He dove back in, releasing your hands. They immediately found their way around his neck. He felt you tug his hair and he let out a growl.

He buried his face in your neck, covering you with hickies. Your little mewls and moans made him so painfully hard. His teeth grazed your skin before he bit down, rather hard, on your shoulder. You cried out, not from pain, but from absolute pleasure. He felt you move your hand, getting ready to cover your mouth when he stopped you. He pinned your wrist above your head, clicking his tongue.

“Oh, absolutely not. I hope they hear you scream for more.”

He watched in amusement as you squirmed beneath him, your face turning red. But he could also see the excitement in your eyes and, for a moment, he could’ve swore he could hear your heart racing. He kissed you again, moving to your jaw, your neck, your chest. He trailed his kisses down, down.

As he moved lower, he was eventually on his own knees, looking up at you. The lust filled look in your eyes easily kept him going. He was going to make sure you screamed with pleasure. He loved hearing the sounds you made. In one quick movement, he had one of your legs over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh. He felt you shiver underneath his touch.

He grinned, feeling his own excitement growing. As much as he wanted to pin you to the bed and absolutely ravage you, he was having fun toying with you like this. “Your thighs were made for cheeks to graze.” He bit your inner thigh, causing you to squeak out another moan in surprise. He trailed his lips along your inner thigh, moving closer and closer to your own arousal. The smell was intoxicating. You were like a beast in heat.

So was he.

The featherlight touches were making you squirm and mewl, something he was quite enjoying. You were riled up. “Please,” you begged. He felt his own heart race and he grinned. “We can’t rush these things.” He was honestly just enjoying the show. He stopped short of finally giving you what you wanted, causing you to whine.

He licked his lips, looking at you. He studied your face, admiring your lust blown pupils. “My lips will be your poison.”

He pulled away, removing your leg off of his shoulder which earned a confused look from you. He stood back up, kissing you again before he flipped you around. He pressed into your body, feeling you up and down. You gasped as the cool wall touched your bare skin. He felt as you shivered against him. “Oh, my apologies, didn’t mean to make you so cold.”

Suddenly, he bent you over, admiring your ass. He licked his lips, groping at you roughly, causing you to moan loudly and press into his touches. Your desperation was evident and he wanted to drive you absolutely insane. He was going to fine dine on this bodacious ass of yours.

He didn’t give you time to process exactly what was happening before he spread your cheeks and dove right in.

It wasn’t long before he felt you shaking, using all your strength and concentration to keep standing but you were sinking lower and lower. He watched as your nails dug into the wall and you threw your head back as you cried out with your climax. At least your first one - he planned on pulling out as many as he could tonight. He pulled away, watching in pride as you slowly slumped to your knees. “They bring you to your knees, huh?” You looked at him over your shoulder, panting heavily. The look in your eye made him grin. You were far from done and that’s exactly what he was going to hope for.

He stands up, looking down at you. You moved to stand and he held out a hand to stop you. His own throbbing cock was in your face now. “Get down. It’s almost over. The first act, at least.” He was so painfully hard and in desperate need of release. “Ah, come on now…”

You looked up at him through your lashes and he let out a small growl, taking a fistful of your hair and tugging it roughly. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned loudly, gripping onto his thigh to steady yourself. “Take it all the way,” he crooned.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You took him into your hand, pressing a kiss to the head of his cock before pressing a few down his shaft. Watching you practically worship his cock…it almost sent him over the edge and you hadn’t even done anything yet.

A smile spreads across your face and you look at him with a lust fueled gaze. He felt his own body heat up and his brain short circuits for a moment. He didn’t have time to recover as you gobbled down his cock with ease. His eyes widened and his head fell back as he moaned loudly. Fuck, you felt so perfect. Your mouth was warm - throat tight. He might get addicted to you, honestly.

Then you started to absolutely go to town on his cock like some professional. As if your only job in life was to suck his cock. His head was spinning and he could already feel himself ready to finish. Were you trying to embarrass him by finishing him off quickly?

Before he could stop you to try and regain his composure, he came hard down your throat. His own voice filled the small room as he moaned along with his release. He looked down, watching you down every drop like it was the first meal you’d had in days. He was panting, his head falling back as he closed his eyes - just enjoying the feel of post climax. His whole entire body was buzzing, but he wasn’t done yet either.

Oh no. He was far from it.

Yanking you by your hair, he pulls you off of him with an audible ‘pop’. The noise resonated with his ears. He liked that noise. You hummed, looking up at him with a half lidded look that only furthered his hunger for you. He pulls you up on your feet, crashing his lips with yours. The both of you making animalistic groans against each other. He could feel your heart racing right along with his. His arms moved around your waist and he squeezed, causing you to squirm against him. “Sir,” you whined and he felt something within him snap.

“You stupid fucking whore, don’t you know how crazy you drive me?” he purred against your lips and you only answered with a breathless giggle. Even with his obscene words, you seemed to relish in them. Fuck, you were perfect.

He sat on the bed, looking up at you as you still stood. You leaned down to kiss him again, softer this time. In a way that caused his heart to race in a different kind of way. Butterflies gathering in his stomach. Oh, this was dangerous.

“And after all of all my dreaming being only you…” He leaned back as a lazy smile spread across his face, admiring your body. His eyes scanned every inch of you, burning you into his mind - you gave him a couple of poses. “You’re standing there…”

He licked his teeth, looking up at you. The gaze you were giving him caused his heart to jump into his throat. It was full of excitement and lust. He could tell you were barely holding back. He could only imagine what you were thinking right now. Oh, what he would give to be able to peek into that slutty mind of yours.

“Baby, oh the things that I could do.”

“Then do them.” His eyes widened as you moved to crawl into his lap and straddle him. Your arms found their way around his neck and you kissed him again, hungrier than the last. His hands rested on your hips, growling as you grinded into his lap. You were just trying to drive him mad, weren’t you?

“You seem to be trapped in your own head. Just act. Don’t think about it. I said anything, remember?”

He stared at you in disbelief. How were you already able to call him out so easily? It's like you saw right through him. Most people didn’t pay any mind to him. Didn’t notice just how in his own head he was. He was constantly thinking, hardly able to just…stop doing that.

A laugh escaped him and he shook his head. “Oh, I’m just relishing in the thought of absolutely ravaging you.”

“How about you make that thought a reality?” You kissed him again, causing his whole body to melt into you as you grinded into him again. He let out another growl, pinning you to the bed as he started to kiss and bite at your neck again. You squirm underneath him, letting out moans and pressing against him.

His hand travelled down your side and your own breathing hitched with anticipation.

Suddenly, he pulled away, moving to sit against the wall as he grabbed a drink off the nightstand. Probably from pregaming earlier. He leaned back with a lazy smile on his face. “Back to the wall with a drink in my hand?” He downed what was in the cup, tossing it to the side as he grinned widely. “Let the show begin.”

You looked at him, surely not knowing exactly what he meant by that. That was okay - you would soon enough.

“Stand.” You obeyed like an obedient animal, standing immediately. “Turn.” You did. “Back it up, baby, ride.” He leaned forward to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you over his lap. “Ride.” You leaned your head back, working your way onto his cock. “Riiiide,” he groaned slowly as you took him fully. It took some work, but you were able to take all of him in one go.

You’re so tight and so perfect. He almost couldn’t take it. He pulled you back to him, his mouth next to your ear. He’d never felt so good inside of someone. Hell, most of the time, people couldn’t take all of him. Or they’d end up just finishing from the penetration alone and be done. “You know, one step too late…” He chuckled softly, his thoughts trailing off as a new one formed. He was panting and not exactly speaking coherently. He was so excited and so extremely turned on that he couldn’t think straight. “And I never told you…that I can’t take another disappointment…” You started moving your hips, immediately driving him insane. He grabbed a fistful of your hair, pulling it roughly.

You cried out, head falling back on his shoulder. “Are you saying you’re disappointed, sir,” you panted, relentless in your movements as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. A small chuckle escaped with a shake of his head. “Far from it, but hopefully you can keep up with me.” Usually, people tapped out after the first round. Or even after barely beginning. It was all so…disappointing. He bit onto your shoulder, squeezing your hip. A moan escaped from you. “This is only the first round, after all.”

You looked at him, not ceasing your movements. A grin spread across your face as you looked back at him. “Let’s see if you can keep up with me.” That was the second time you used his own words against him almost immediately.

He blinked, but wasn’t able to be shocked for too long before he groaned. You worked his cock like a pro but with your mouth and riding him. Were you actually like a whore like he had teased?

“Let’s see if you can keep that attitude.”

“I think I remember saying I’m at your disposal.”

Fuck, you really knew what to say, didn’t you? You knew just what to say to drive him absolutely wild. “That you did,” he mumbled, placing a hand at the back of your neck as you leaned forward to really start working him.

He moved quickly. Next thing you knew, you were being pushed into the bed with him absolutely drilling into you. An animalistic growl ripped from his throat as he finally wasn’t able to hold back anymore. He felt like an animal in heat and you were the only cure to that. It was a complete turn of personality from just moments ago. He had felt something finally snap and that was it.

He pistoned his hips in and out of you, slapping your ass and groping your thighs.

As you continued to moan and mewl under him, he realized you kept calling him ‘sir.’. Then it dawned on him that you didn’t know his name. Both of you were panting and groaning loudly, helplessly gripping at each other. He moved his hand to the back of your head as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you up flush with his body. “Breathing and grasping…” He chuckled breathlessly against you. You cried out in absolute bliss, your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“All leads to another messy ending…just how I like.” He kissed you. That’s exactly what he wanted. Another messy ending. An ending he wanted. Sometimes, he never even finished, but you had already milked one out of him tonight and he knew you were about to milk another.

He pushed you back down into the bed, feeling his own movements growing more sporadic as the coil in his stomach tightened. Then he felt you clench around him as you came with a cry. It sent him over the edge once more. With one last, very hard, thrust, he came hard inside of you - filling you up and then some. You let out a long whine as he did so, music to his ears.

Oh yeah. He was absolutely keeping you around.

“Mmm…” His mind was spinning and he felt himself already ready for another round. “Think you can still go?” His adrenaline was running wild and the beast not quite sated.

He slowly pulled out of you, watching as his own seed leaked from you. He sat on the bed, panting heavily, letting you catch your breath and choose whether or not you could go on. He watched you for a long moment. Your post climax face, your heavy panting. He just hoped that you’d be able to go again, but this was honestly the longest anyone has ever lasted.

“If you’re too exhausted-” He was cut off as he felt your hands on his chest. His eyes widened as he looked at you, gasping as you pushed him down and straddled him. You had a feral look in your eye that made his heart race. “Who said I was too exhausted?” You licked your lips, leaning down to look at him with a half lidded, lust filled expression. “I believe we had said we would go all night, no?” The purr to your voice…fuck. He might just fall in love with you at this rate.

He pulled you into another sloppy kiss. “How shall I take you next?” he asked, panting heavily.

“With your back against the wall? With your face buried in the pillow?” He grinned at you, wondering just how many different ways he’d be able to take you tonight.

A hum came from you, one that seemed to be thinking. “We can just see where things take us, yeah? I’m sure we’ll end up doing both anyway.” You grinned at him and by golly, he was absolutely sold. Your smile, your moans, the way you spoke to him, everything about you…it’s like you were made for him.

He silently thanked whatever the hell it was out there that looked over the world for granting him you. He suddenly felt your hand around his cock as you started to stroke it and he groaned, his own eyes rolling back. “I could die by your cock and I’d be happy,” you purred, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Die by my cock, huh?” He trailed his hands up your sides, one of them around your neck as he squeezed lightly. Will I see you cold? Will I feel you heartless?” You just smiled coyly at him, stroking him faster and causing him to lose his focus. He was having a hard time holding his calm demeanor together.

It wasn’t long before he had you in his arms, pinned up against the wall as he railed up into you. You were desperately clawing and scratching at his back. He was pretty sure you might have broken his skin, but he gladly welcomed the light sting. Something to remember the night by.

Once more the room was filled with the sound of skin slapping skin and both of your moans. He didn’t feel sorry for any of the neighbors, he wanted people to hear just how good of a fuck you were. It gave him a thrill. He didn’t plan on letting you go now that he’s had you.

He slammed into you. “You stupid.” Again. “Fuckin’.” Again. “Bitch.” With each thrust, you cried out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. He paused for a moment as you cried out, knowing he could get a little carried away, but you looked at him as if you were absolutely wasted. He supposed you were probably cock drunk.

“Fuckin’ bitch, did I say you could stop?” you slurred at him. His eyes widened and he felt his heart race once more as he started back up again. Hearing you call him such names really riled him up.

He knew after tonight he was taking you away with him.

#one piece #one piece x you #one piece x reader #sabo #revolutionary sabo #sabo x reader #sabo the revolutionary #ntaa #am fics

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imeternallylove · 2 years ago

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Moulin Rouge Sous le Ciel Bleu - S.Strange

Red Mill under the Blue Sky: the roaring '20s era

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader

Genre: angst and fluff, mostly bittersweet 💔✌️

Warning: forbidden love, sexual content

Word: approx 4k

main mastetlist | request | prompts

theme song (im very rec to listen while reading this)

A brilliant red mill stood out among the other buildings in the Jardin de Paris, at the foot of the hill in the Montmartre neighborhood, commanding attention with its vibrant color and unusual façade. Large metal letters spelled out the word Moulin Rouge over the entryway to the colorful venue. The Red Mill, because it was exactly what the building looked like. It certainly drew attention to itself, and Monsieur Strange had no doubt that this was the proprietors' goal. Moulin Rouge had grown infamous in Paris, and he had no doubt that it was also infamous throughout the rest of France.

The building's bright scarlet façade contrasted with the pristine blue of the sky above it, making it stand out even more on clear days like today. Stephen would not have imagined, looking at the red mill, that this was the edifice known as The Bastion of Pleasures in the city of love. It wasn't visually appealing, but it was a novelty, and the mill at the entryway was one of the reasons for the establishment's notoriety. That, and the female cabaret performers.

Stephen Vincent Strange, heir of an eastern trade enterprise and an expert in oriental goods, was known as "young Monsieur Strange." He had been sent to France by his father a year before starting university to acquire the French language, and now, years later, he was studying for a degree in Orientalism at the famed Sorbonne. He'd become a go-to man for Parisian socialites, advising them on real Chinese and silk textiles, among other things, all sourced from his family's import business.

But, underneath the elegant and wealthy heir, he had become enthralled by the revolution, a movement that began in the middle of the last century, a stride towards freedoms and liberties that he had never known in his own home of New York.

That's how he ended himself in the Moulin Rouge cabaret. Stephen adored it. The excitement of doing something that would be considered inappropriate in his own nation was exhilarating. He wished he was an artist or a poet some days. Of course, he was brilliant at both due to his considerable schooling, so it wasn't that he couldn't do either. Nonetheless, he wished that he could live off his riches and do whatever he pleased, composing poetry, creating watercolours on rice paper, and attending the cabaret.

Most crucially, in those crazy daydreams, he could freely love you.

You'd met when he came to consult with you about some costumes you were working on for a Moulin Rouge performance. The surroundings were supposed to be inspired by the Orient, interesting, exotic, and beautiful all at the same time, and you required assistance with the designs. Young Monsieur Strange had paid you a visit in your sewing chamber as an orientalist. He was impressed by the attention to detail you had placed into the costumes and was eager to help you in perfecting the ideas.

He was back in your workrooms a few weeks later, checking the finished product as well as the music hall stage set. Because your lodgings were close to the Moulin Rouge, he stopped by to see you and your fellow seamstresses on his way back. He had admired your outfits and had recommended you to the proprietors.

That's how you met and then kept meeting, each one ending with you smiling a little brighter, his smile getting cheekier and cheekier.

Stephen often assumed that falling in love with one of the dancers would be simple. Monsieur Strange, on the other hand, was not one to take the easy way out. He had been unimpressed by the dancers' charm, flirty manner, and womanly figure. He was an orientalist visiting Paris from his hometown, and he had no interest for the loud women of the cabaret, famous for their cancan.

Instead, he had chosen the difficult path. He fell for you.

It was an impossible love. Hopeless in more ways than one; not only had he fallen head over heels for you irrevocably and explicitly, but there was no future in which he could do so. Your love was ephemeral, not because the sensations vanished, but because you couldn't freely love each other in this world, neither in France nor anywhere else. It was a forbidden love.

Something forbidden.

It's a hopeless love.

You knew it wouldn't last, you wouldn’t; but nothing does, so you loved him the same way he loved you.

Stephen would never marry a mere seamstress. He was a class above you, and he was certain his father had already picked a merchant's daughter for him, one from New York, just like him, just like his father wanted.

Tonight, he could spend naked in your arms, snuggled in the warm sheets of his bed, listening to his heartbeat while his long fingers combed through your hair.

"The sky was falling," you said as his heat cock finally came out, weary, clogged, and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. The palm of his hand lingered warmly on your exposed breasts, like a boy's toy.

Your hair is wet, and so is his. You look at the mess on the bedsheet, it's like a war, so criminally. Unless, of course Stephen's sharp smile, the top of his chest breaths heavily, and the bottom is buried beneath his blanket, but you pull out it to cover yourself so you can glimpse his entire body again. "And I'm falling for you, amour."

It was a quiet night. He'd snuck you into one of his smaller homes, where no servants could spy on you two. You had a glass of dry red wine and a baguette with camembert and red grapes. It was a basic dish by his standards, but it was everything the two of you could have desired for dinner tonight.

You had been kept busy by the continual repairs of Moulin Rouge costumes, as well as other work sent to you by higher and middle-class women, in the heart of balmy summer, with the sun shining down in all its splendor, warming you up and making all proper ladies sweat under their garments. You made no complaint. It was good job, and there was always additional money, which you could never have enough of.

Stephen did all the whining for you, about how you didn't have time for him, about how he felt neglected, about how you were too gorgeous to spend the days in a workroom instead of on the garden outside, enjoying in the sun and definitely keeping him company.

Finally, your work was completed, and you decided to take the day off, and now, at the end of the day spent in his arms, you were falling asleep in his arms, his gentle breathing feeling like a summer breeze in your hair, and his golden skin was warm on yours. Because of your body heat and the warm night, you couldn't sleep beneath a blanket, so you slept on a light linen sheet.

"Mon plus cher amour," he said into the air, that’s the way he called; "my dearest love." And you had responded to his call through the thin veil of sleep, turning in his arms to face him, your lips brushing against his as he spoke, the delicate touch sending thrills down Stephen's spine.

"Mon cherrie?" You'd wondered, laying a sly kiss on his pouty lips.

"I cannot imagine living without you." He engaged, his eyes staring into yours with such affection that you wondered if a mortal man could be filled with so much love. Such deep feeling was surely destined for something more holy than you; for ladies whose beauty lived on in legend, a kind of beauty caught by poems, songs, and prayers. Not you, mortal, frail, and average.

"Don't say such things." You murmured softly, your tone echoing Stephen's love in his gaze. His breath caught, and you could feel his heart rattling against your chest, its steady beat matching the pace of your own. "They make me fall in love with you even more." Your lover grinned at your comments, his long fingers reaching to gently hold your hand before bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles delicately, his lips smooth like rosebuds, flushed a deep pink as blood flowed through him, red and strong. His aquatic eyes never left yours for a second.

Hopelessly, you loved him so badly, too.

The days passed without him, and eventually, after all work was finished, Stephen decided to take you to the premiere of the new cabaret show, the one you had spent months sewing costumes for, and now he would allow you the pleasure of seeing the fruit of your labors, and you had a feeling it would be sweet.

Tonight, he had taken you to the cabaret. The moulin rouge was full with patrons, their cacophonous banter before the show was like the beginning of a birdsong, someplace deep in the rainforest, their words, not always French, rang throughout the room like a flock of tropical songbirds, unorganized but cheerful. You sat at a table for two, he in a magnificent black suit, you in your best dress, your hair done up in a stylish style you had seen many of your clients wear. When you looked in the mirror before leaving the house, you couldn't believe the lady in the reflection was you. You wondered if he had always thought you were beautiful.

"You are lovely to look at. Never forget that, mon amour." He leaned in to whisper into your ears, the dim light shimmering golden against his skin, making the shape of his nose and the plushness of his lips even more refined, even more seductive. Your heart skipped a beat despite your will. As the dancers entered the stage, the flock fell silent, leaving only the melody of the orchestra. Stephen relaxed in his chair, entirely at ease, sipping champagne.

The show was spectacular, but no one expected less from the legendary Moulin Rouge. The dancers glided around the stage in perfect synchronicity. Even their most frantic routines were carried out with beauty and precision. others gowns were shorter than others, and others were more scandalous. You hadn't skimped on the feathers and sequins. Each costume was meticulously fitted, with every thread perfectly in place and every color carefully chosen.

"Something like this would never be tolerated where I come from." Stephen whispered in your ear. Even without looking at him, you could tell that his gaze was drawn to the dancers and his lips formed a sneer against your ears. You knew he wasn't talking about the cabaret. "I'm glad it's allowed here." When you didn't react, he whispered, and you felt a delightful chill down your spine.

"They look gorgeous." Instead, you stated that your gaze never leaves the stage. The dancers span, their skirts swirling with them, exposing more of their legs, and the audience couldn't stop gasping.

He questioned as he took another sip from his flute. "The dancers?"

"Pretty women look good in pretty clothing." When another round of cacophonous delight rippled through the audience, you responded with a nod, a smile on your lips.

"Are those your dresses?" Stephen smiled, his eyes twinkling as he examined the colorful outfits, feather plumes, and embroidery on the bodices and skirts.

“Oui.” You sipped your drink, allowing the buzz of alcohol to enhance your enjoyment of the evening. "What's the point of staring at me?" After a while, you said, the feeling of Stephen's deep ocean eyesight staring at you becoming uncomfortable as the night progressed, your second flute of champagne now standing empty in front of you.

"I can't stop myself. You are like the moon." He smiled, turning his head to look at you from a fresh perspective. "So attracting me." He spoke, and his hand moved across the table to grip yours, his long fingers weaving through yours.

You stayed like that till the end of the show.

When the night was done and he had draped your coat over your shoulders like a gentleman, a cheeky smile graced his lips, his eyes bright with mischief.

"We went to the pleasure palace, and yet my greatest pleasure was watching you." He told you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, savoring the crimson that warmed your cheeks, both from the champagne and from him.

Another week passed, and you were again in his chambers, laying among the lovely covers, holding a book as Stephen dressed. He was dressed in a suit identical to the one he wore to Moulin Rouge, but he had changed the jacket to something more suited for dinner. You liked his straight brows and heavy lashes as you combed his hair back away from his face.

"How do you think I look?" He approached, tying his black bowtie in front of the mirror above his dresser.

Looking at his tiny figure over your book, you told him. "Handsome as always." You said that when he turned around and winked at him. "You will be fine, Monsieur Strange."

"Whatever you want to say, Mademoiselle." He smiled as he walked over to the bed and knelt down. His plush lips were on yours in an instant, and you melted into the kiss.

When he turned to slide into his jacket, he looked back at you, his eyes filled with concern. You could tell he was tense by the clench of his jaw and the strain in his shoulders.

"Enjoy yourself." You smiled at him, attempting to cheer him up. Whatever was on his thoughts was weighing heavily on him. Enough to make him wary of telling you about it. It was a rare occurrence.

"It's just another business meeting; I'm recommending teapot purchases." He muttered, presumably to himself, and you sprang from the bed, wrapping your arms around his torso and staring into his eyes. Their maritime blue reminded you of hot coffee and chocolate in the morning. "New York ceramics have grown in popularity among those who can afford to import them." He spoke, his arms wrapping over your shoulders. Stephen buried his face in your hair, and you gave him a minute of silence. He pressed you against him, and you listened to his heartbeat, sure and steady like him.

"Selling a lot of teapots, then, mon cherie." You told him, and he let you go with one more farewell kiss.

"Don't worry about missing me too much, mon plus cher amour." He called out as he walked out of the room, and you couldn't help but smile as you watched him go.

Sadly, you do.

The dinner was drab. The hosts were rich, as they always were, and they loved to gossip, as they always did. Normally, Stephen avoided the ladies' gossip, preferring to sit and drink whiskey with the males, but tonight he found himself in the center of it. Not because he was really interested, but because he was the topic of it.

Many guys stood around the room conversing, and some women avoided the host's wife, who was a nasty gossip who could run her mouth like no other. Unfortunately, Stephen was on his way to meet his business partner, Monsieur Holmes from England, when he overheard the conversation.

The guests sat on luxurious sofas, with a tiny wooden mahogany coffee table in the center, containing a lovely tea set, white porcelain with delicate lotus blossoms painted in red for adornment. Last summer, it was one of the models they carried. Surprisingly, it was not a high-end set.

"I heard he went to the cabaret with his mistress last week. I'm curious who she is." The harsh voice of one of the ladies pierced his eardrums. Stephen could tell she was one of your clientele based on her attire. In your shop window, a similar dress, however green rather than the caustic salmon color this woman was wearing, was shown. He could recognize your work from anywhere right now.

"There will be no high standing." Another woman interrupted him, and he wanted to stop listening. Morbid curiosity kept him quiet, listening to those women criticize you, his blood boiling under his skin.

"A Frenchwoman and a New Yorker. In public!" Stephen tried to stop himself from cursing after hearing the woman in salmon scream.

"How are you doing, ladies?" Instead, he put on a happy face and walked right into the women's chat, interrupting their gossip. "I heard you ordered two tea sets, Madame." He turned to gaze at an older woman sitting between the two who were chatting about you.

“Yes. My daughter is marrying into a good family, and I want to make sure she brings only the best to her new home." She had spoken, her nose turned almost comically high as she tried to gaze at him with contempt.

"I hope you will be pleased with the quality of our products." He had bowed lightly, a sickly-sweet smile lingering on his lips, as rage had no doubt poked through his eyes. When you glanced into his eyes, you stated you could tell he was upset. He would have spoken more, but Shrr had come to his rescue, his cheerful attitude brightening the mood of the women.

"Ah, Monsieur Strange, I was looking for you." He talked, his rich voice filled with joy as he tried to pull Stephen away.

He pushed him to the side and handed the shorter man a tumbler of scotch. Sherlock's massive body towered over him, hiding him from the gossips' gaze. His huge hand reached out and squeezed Stephen's shoulder in reassurance.

"Young men are young men regardless of where they come from." Do not listen to old rumor." Sherlock's powerful voice slowed to a mumble, and Stephen assumed his companion was growling rather than speaking.

"Thank you, Sherlock." He mumbled, gulping the scotch down, too frustrated to taste it. He found the burn of alcohol to be a pleasant distraction.

"Better to love one woman than to hate one woman." When his pal looked down on him, his teal eyes were soft.

Stephen asked shifting the conversation from one unpleasant issue to another. "Any news from my father?"

“None yet. I’m not sure he even knows about her.” Sherlock reassured him, a small smile playing on his lips. He sipped on his scotch.

"If he knew," Stephen said, his heart pounding wildly against his chest, making him dizzy, before Sherlock cut him off.

"You'd have been on a ship back by now, and that merchant's daughter would have been waiting for you at the docks." He finished for him, gulping down the rest of his scotch before proceeding to refill their glasses.Stephen received an increasing number of inquiries for imported pottery as the evening continued. Tea sets, plates, and bowls were among the items requested. By the end of the meal, his notebook was full of names and catalog numbers.

Stephen had removed his coat and unfastened his bowtie when he returned home. His white shirt had a few buttons undone, displaying his golden collarbone. He sat on his living room sofa, sipping more scotch from a crystal glass. When he arrived, you tossed the book and sat alongside him on the couch, your head resting on his shoulder. The fabric beneath you was velvet, far more expensive than you could possibly afford. You could see he had it built to order.

Stephen had remained silent other than greetings and a couple brief kisses. Despite the drink he consumed, the worry shown on his face had not subsided. From the corner of your eye, you noticed his jaw clenched and relaxed.

"Are you ready to tell me now?" You asked him, and he turned his chin towards you. His gaze was drawn to your lips first, then up into your eyes. He'd always assumed they were sapphires. Not because they were blue, but because they reminded him of the sea, deep and uncharted. They hid your heart, so they gleamed like valuable stones and reflected light like the tumultuous waters of the sea. Deep, so deep that he lost himself in them and found himself in them as well.

"I'm worried about my father." His heavenly voice broke, heavy with uncertainty, and he mumbled.

"We knew about your father from the start,” you told him as you pressed your palm against his cheek, allowing Stephen to sink into your contact and relish in how warm he felt against you. “We knew how this was going to end before it even started."

"What if I don't want this to come to an end?" He asked whether and you were the one to lose yourself in the depths of his irises this time.

You kissed him with your other hand on his cheek. Passionately and uninhibitedly. It didn't matter if the end was coming or if it was already here. You had feelings for him. You were hopelessly in love with him.

Stephen went violet when you touched him. He felt it seep into him when he pressed his lips to yours with bruising force, and again when you grabbed him in his bed, and again when you left purple marks over his collar bones, each one a visible stain on his body; something to remind him he was yours, something to remind you that you were his.

Days flew by in a blur of color. You awoke in his bed, went to work, and spent the evening at Moulin Rouge. Every night was spectacular; every night was the same. You had grown fond of Moulin Rouge. Stephen could sit by you in public and flaunt your devotion for him. In Montmartre, most people were preoccupied with the concept of liberty and freedom. You shared their hopes, that the world will be a better place to live one day. Both you and he fit in. It was simple to be at the Bastion of Pleasures.

After one of the shows, when you had finally returned home to recuperate, an unexpected guest appeared.

Sherlock had come in one evening, just as Stephen was falling asleep in your lap, your voice calming him. The British man had arrived with a letter. It was obvious that it was from Stephen's father. Because the characters were strange, you were illiterate and blissfully unaware of the contents.

"Not good." Stephen had risen from your lap and was pacing as he read over the letter. Sherlock had taken a seat near you, his form looming over you. You weren't bothered because you were used to being in his shadow, but the expressions on both men's faces made you nervous.

Sherlock told them. "He wants you to return by the end of the next year." His strong voice boomed through the room, and his loving brown eyes looked down at you, and then at Stephen, with such sadness that you couldn't tell who was more saddened by the news.

"I understand." Stephen paused his pacing and requested that one of his assistants bring them some cognac. "To one more year." When the vodka was poured into crystal glasses and delivered to the three of them, he toasted.

You raised your glass with a cheeky smile, toasting with him. Sherlock raised his glass reluctantly and witheredly, the amber liquid shimmering in the faint light, before taking a gulp.

You lay wrapped in Stephen's arms that night, a pleasant breeze blowing through the open window, drifting over your naked shoulders as you glanced up at your sweetheart.

"Let us leave. Just… Run away with me." Stephen mumbled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of his room, more pensive than you had ever seen him.

"Is this? …New Americana proposal’s? Where’s my ring?" You commented, a broad smile on your face, as though pondering of the possibilities, soon, your shoulders jolted down. "Where shall we go?"

"Wherever my father won't find us." You pressed closer to him, further into the protection of his arms, as he aware you. “Italy?” You sought out, considering locations too far away for the Strange business to pursue you to.

“Britain? Erm-”

"French Indochina?" You kissed his forehead, with an awkward smile on your lips.

"I don't care… literally. Where we go; my heart goes to loving you everywhere." He spoke softly, and you knew he loved you now more than ever.

Stephen was ready to leave everything to be with you, where his father could not intervene, and you were ready to leave with him, you knew you would; for anything even your cabaret flora life here; for one condition… just be with him.

"Then let's go anywhere." You gave in, putting a kiss to his lips and whispering love words into his ears as he held you. He whispered them back, breathed love into you with his kisses, was firm and soothing alongside you, and despite the frost in the air, you were warm.

His lengthy fingers knead over yours, enveloping them. You know he staked his entire future on it. You are mindful of this. "Whether it's an ice-covered world or warfare, I'll be the one that burns it." Your lips curled together, his words so sincere, and his rich tone melt with every emotion you've ever beheld. "Like frost and flame; hot and cold both evaporated."

You draw stars on his chest, another one, another one… Attentively paying attention to his heartbeat. The galactic cosmos feels incredibly near whenever you're with him, your Monsieur Strange, yours.

"Trust me?"

"Always have."

Love was occasionally hopeless, but maybe this time, just this time, there was hope.

And this is hope that you want would be go on survived.

For everlasting.

a/t: how was it 🥹 idk why but the plot comes while i listen this so bitter, tortured but sweetener so it’s challenging me to write 1920’ era. Well… in fact, the forbidden love is my first time writing… so erm yk what i mean? just please give love to it bc Monsieur Strange is watching you 😂🥹🤭 the core of this story is foreign man who has love affair with the owner of cabaret and he bet everything on it to stay with his heart, so fucking romantic yeah? this side is so rare to see from Stephen x reader ff and that’s why, so sorry to bring him out of character again bc it’s not my first time actually HAHAHAHAHA xD well next story we will see new youtuber Stephen who open YouTube channel so bright the boredom of quarantine by corona, he’s doctor right? let’s go romantic comedy yahooooo

#multiverse of madness #doctor strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange fanfiction #doctor strange fanfiction #doctor strange one shot #stephen strange one shot #marvel fanfiction #stephen strange #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange smut #stephen strange smut #dr strange smut #mcu x reader #doctor stephen strange #benedict cumberbatch #imeternallylove

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moonlightspencie · 2 years ago

Text

The Fulton Project

Description: The knowledge of an FBI operation gone wrong has the world as the BAU knows it turning on it’s head. How does something like this end after months of civil unrest?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader (but honestly the relationship aspect comes like 3rd in levels of importance to this story lol)

Warnings: violence, non-graphic major character deaths (2), implications of suicide, ANGST, (kind of an unreliable narrator, but in an im-traumatized-and-not-thinking-straight way)

Word Count: 4k

A/N: this is me speedrunning a ya dystopian novel to be honest. i wrote it all at like 1am after watching the entire hunger games series lollll

We were gathered around my desk one morning, everything feeling so normal that day. I wish I’d have known then that I wouldn’t get to experience it again. I would have appreciated it more.

“I don’t know. Strauss has been acting super weird. Like she knows something we don’t,“ JJ stated, leaning against my desk.

“What’s new?” Morgan asked with a snort.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s like she’s afraid of something. I don’t get it. She never acts scared of anything.”

I sat with that sentiment for a moment.

“Has anyone asked her?” I inquired. “I know we don’t like to talk to her if we can help it, but if this is serious—“

“I don’t think she’d admit anything,” JJ responded.

“Maybe Pen can dig something up,” I said, just as Hotch strolled in.

“Dig something up on what?” he asked.

“Strauss,” Morgan said curtly. “JJ said she’s been acting all weird lately.”

“Is that new?” he said, giving his barely-there smile.

“That’s what I said!” Morgan yelled out, going back to his own desk.

JJ mentioned something about seeing Penelope, and I watched as she dragged Emily with her. I started on my consultations for the day, and was only interrupted when Spence came up to my desk with a new mug of coffee.

I smiled, taking it from him.

“Thanks, love.”

“Of course. It looked like you needed a little energy boost,” he noted, watching me for a moment. “Do you want to go out tonight?”

I glanced up at him. “Where were you thinking?”

“That Thai place you love?”

I smiled. “That would be great.”

“Do you want to leave after work tonight, then?”

“I’d love nothing more.”

The day went on quickly, and finally getting to have a night that was just Spence and myself was a welcome reprieve from all of the casework we’d been doing. He always seemed to know how to lift my spirits, even when the world was upside down. He did his best, time and time again, to be there for me in whatever way possible.

We were asleep in his apartment when we got the early-morning call. Spence answered the phone, face dropping. I only heard a muffled, panicked rambling on the other end from Pen’s sweet voice. He assured her that the whole team would be there as soon as possible, then turned to me when he hung up.

“Garcia found something big. We’ve gotta get to work.”

We rushed over. I drove as Spence contacted the rest of the team. He immediately went to meet her in the conference room as I double-checked that nobody else was in the bullpen. When I was sure, I started up the stairs and towards the conference room.

“Here,” Penelope’s voice said, quietly as I neared the doorway.

I walked into the room, seeing her look like she’d just seen a ghost. She gave me a quick glance, then excused herself from the room.

“Is she okay?” I asked Spencer.

He only shrugged, unsure. Everyone else filed in within the next couple of minutes. He looked over everything Penelope had given him, sorting through all of the things that were worth reading for the rest of us to see. He only slowed his roll when he started nearing the end.

“I think I found something,” he said.

Prentiss sat up straight. “What is it?”

“It’s called the Fulton Project,” Spencer said, scanning over the rest of the file. “I don’t think this is what it seems.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, pretty boy?” Derek asked, half a smirk on his face.

Spencer wasn’t smiling, and it seemed that Penelope’s exit from the room made much more sense now.

“This is… How did we get this file, again?”

I stood from my seat, circling around behind him.

“Penelope found it. It used to be encrypted, but the last time it was opened someone got awfully irresponsible. She found a way in,” Prentiss said, looking across the table.

I scanned it as she told him, horror building.

“I thought the CIA was the one that did stuff like this,” I whispered finally.

They all gathered around to see what I meant, each person’s attitude turning sour the further down the page they got. However accidentally, we’d uncovered something huge. An entire operation dedicated to not only “silencing” agents, but civilians as well. It was like some sort of twisted men in black for governmental secrets. And it didn’t end there. The torture methods described in order to brainwash people or garner information were on par, and even worse, than the unsubs we hunted down every day.

“What do we do?” I asked.

Instinctively, everyone turned to Hotch. He looked at each of us for a few moments before answering.

“We take it down.”

We went for a few weeks, uncovering as much as we could under the radar. More information than I ever wanted to know came to light, but we had to make a really solid case before we could bring it to a court. It turns out there was more corruption that we’d thought possible after the first file we had seen. Framings and assassinations and brainwashing and making people disappear. It was all too much. Then, Hotch had an idea to light a fire under the bellies of those involved.

I took a deep breath as I stepped up on the podium. Reporters stared me down, all scrambling to get close.

“Good evening,” I began, trying to tune out everything but my own voice. “We’ve— I’ve prepared a statement on the events that occurred today, and over the past few years, really. After an inside investigation, we have reason to believe that the Fulton Project, headed up by Richard Jones, Mark Stein, and Amelia Sanchez has been an elaborate cover-up for operations within the FBI that we as a unit do not stand for. However, these are only allegations, so please let that reflect on the record. We will keep you all updated as we learn more.”

A million questions started being thrown my way, but I felt Hotch take my arm and guide me back off the podium. He started walking me into the building.

“Good. That was good,” he noted quietly. “The sooner this gets out, the more likely it is that we’ll be able to take them down.”

I breathed deep as we stepped into the elevator.

“Are you sure this was the right move? You and I both know this likely runs deeper than the FBI.”

“It’s going to work out just fine,” he said, not glancing in my direction. “After today, everything is going to change.”

I was told that me going on the news to release that statement would be fine. Hotch reassured me that nothing bad would happen. He told me it was the right thing to do. He told me that speaking the names wasn’t defamatory because we weren’t actually accusing them of anything. It was a huge move, and I knew that.

I didn’t know it would change everything.

I sat in the bullpen at my desk when we got back in the building. Everyone left eventually, leaving me, my thoughts, and the imaginary paperwork I told everyone I had to do. I really just needed time to think. Unfortunately, my time for thinking was cut short.

My personal cell rang, an unknown number on the screen. I wasn’t usually one to pick up for unknown callers, but something in me compelled me to this time.

“Hello?” I greeted.

“Do you know who I am?”

The voice was familiar, though I couldn’t place it.

“I don’t.”

A sigh came from the other end.

“You’re nothing but a parasite in this organization. Ruining everything with a stupid press conference, and you don’t even know my name?”

I paused. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be. Live television isn’t the place to expose secrets, my dear, and yet you did it anyways.”

“I didn’t mean to—“

“People are asking questions. You let it all loose, and tomorrow news stations across the country are going to be putting up your name and your image as the person who caused all of this.”

I was silent, trying to process all of this. It was one slip, how could it possibly put me in the line of fire like this?

“Watch your back.”

The line went dead after that.

I left the bureau and went to Spencer’s in a panic. I knew I wasn’t safe at work anymore, and frankly I was shocked I could leave at all. On the way to his place, I tried calling Hotch, but the line was dead. I ended up at the door of Spencer’s apartment, waiting with shaky hands. He opened the door with a smile that faded fast.

“What’s wrong, love?”

“Can I come in?”

He nodded, shutting the door behind me as I entered.

“Lock it,” I instructed.

He listened, following me in confusion as I shut his curtains.

“What’s happening?”

“I’m not safe.”

He stopped me from pacing around the room, holding my face in his hands.

“Why not?”

I held onto his wrists, breathing in deep.

“I think—“ I swallowed, unsure if I could finish the statement.

He furrowed his brow, as he always did.

“What?”

“They know that we know. I didn’t mean to, but it’s all being taken down, now.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to get any clear answer from me.

“I think Hotch was using me. He knew this whole time that the higher-ups were corrupted and let me be the one who’s face is plastered on it all coming out. It’s only getting worse now that the secret isn’t contained to the bureau. The whole country is going to know.”

He swallowed, the usual color in his cheeks drained.

“Hotch wouldn’t do that.”

“He would if it meant protecting Jack. He shut off his phone, Spence. He would let me take the fall to protect his son.”

“No.”

I nodded. “He would. He would, and you know that. He could rationalize it by telling himself he wasn’t directly harming me, but he knew what would happen.”

Spencer shook his head, tears in his eyes. I took his hand, trying to give him any semblance of comfort.

“What do we do?” he asked, voice small.

“We’re not doing anything. You’re going to help the team finish what we started.”

“And you?”

“They’re coming for me, but I refuse to let them find me without a fight.”

“Let me come with.”

“No.”

“Please. You can’t do this alone. We stand a chance against them, we can take them down.”

I sighed. “You’re better off trying to do that here. Use that big brain of yours. There’s always a flaw in these systems, especially when the motives for keeping them in place are all wrong. You know that.”

“The team can do it without me. I need to be there with you.”

I sighed hard, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer this time. “Fine.”

We worked for months. All of our meetings had to be completely concealed once I went into hiding. The team and I knew better than anyone the lengths they would take to find me and have me destroyed. My image was the one attached to all of this, and now the general public saw me as the sole reason for the secrets getting out.

Against my better wishes, Spencer came with me. We were holed up in Tennessee somewhere, completely cut off from practically everyone. The only person who really knew where we were was Penelope, strictly for the fact that she was the one in charge of communication. That was something else that happened completely against my wishes, but she kept us updated. Hotchner had long-since escaped somewhere with Jack, thus escaping from the inevitable guilt that came with forcing me into a role I never wanted or asked for. I knew that one day, whether I succeeded or not, he’d have to live with himself. That kept me from wishing worse for him.

The others stuck together. Though, having worked for the government, they all had massive targets on their backs. They had to stay off the grid as much as they could. Their only true communications were through Penelope, and the main destination was me. Until, eventually, they stopped communication altogether. According to Pen, they’d found a way to be safe. She wouldn’t tell me any more than that, but if what it took for them to be safe was no longer associating with me, it was worth it.

Unrest continued to build as the general public realized more and more what had been happening within our country. Right under our noses. I worried at first that we would be too complacent to fight against it all, but was quickly proven wrong. My initial exposure of the corruption had inspired a sense of conflict that I would never have expected.

I supposed it helped that the FBI directors immediately tried to kill me. They put me on top of the “most wanted” list, and made it clear that they weren’t going to stop hunting me down. That certainly didn’t assure everyone that things were as fine as they had been led to believe. It was mistake number one.

Mistake number two was the attempt to put military on the streets. They didn’t count on everyone being against a governmental body in such a strong way. They definitely didn’t expect people to be willing to put themselves in the line of fire for freedom’s sake. But, after we released all of the documents that showed what they’d done, it only grew.

I sat in the safe house with Spencer as we watched footage of the destruction. I was used to seeing horrible things in front of my eyes daily. It’s what came with the job I once had. But this was different. It killed me to see innocent people giving their lives when I’d been the one to start it all unraveling. Spencer tried to be sympathetic, but I could see in his eyes that he was glad for it. I would even say he had a sense of excitement at the unrest in the states. It was a miracle for him. It was hell for me.

“I didn’t mean for all of this to happen,” I said quietly, viewing nothing but destruction on the screen before me.

Spencer ripped his sights from it, looking at me instead. Now visibly less excited.

“This isn’t a bad thing, you know? Innocent people were being killed and framed for things they didn’t do, and even worse. It’s good that the secrets finally came out.”

“Innocent people are still dying, Spence.”

“But their deaths aren’t meaningless anymore. They’re fighting against evil.”

I fell silent. I knew he wasn’t getting it. He couldn’t get it, not really. He didn’t feel like he was the reason for all of this. He was used to being the hero, rarely thinking twice any time he gunned someone down. The years of seeing in black and white finally got to him, and now it altered his perception of the current state of the world as a whole. I still saw in tones of gray, and this entire debacle was one big sea of gray. There were no winners or losers, only people who were dying left and right for no real reason.

A ping on my computer alerted me of Penelope’s message, taking me out of my own head.

“Let’s check it out,” I said, not looking at Spencer.

I heard him follow behind me, watching as I clicked on the link from her and typed in the codes we’d agreed upon to view it. There were two messages.

One was typed out:

- Something is wrong. I don’t know what’s happening, but I think they’re coming for me. Now is the time. Don’t wait.

I froze, my stomach dropping.

“What does that mean?” Spencer asked, his voice sounding horribly far away.

I clicked on the second message, an impending sense of doom in my gut. Something was horribly wrong. A video popped up, playing before I had a chance to click it. A familiar face showed on the screen, but it was the last face I wanted to see. Richard Jones.

“Good evening, doll. Your little friend is all done playing walkie-talkie.”

I watched in abject horror as he moved back to show Penelope strapped into a chair. Her usual bubbly, colorful self was in drab clothing. Her hair undone. Not an ounce of makeup on her face. The only color I saw was the pink tint on her nose and cheeks from all the crying she was doing. Those were the first things I noticed. The second was a gun aimed at her head.

“Turn yourself in. We’ll find the rest of your friends if you don’t. Let this be a message that we’re not afraid to wipe out every last one of you.”

The trigger was pulled, but my scream and the hands flying to my eyes still couldn’t shield me in time from hearing the shot or seeing red splattered over her body. I fell to the ground, sobbing in hard breaths that couldn’t be stopped. I felt Spencer’s hands try to comfort me or at least stop my crying, but it was all so far from me. I was outside of my body, looking down at myself in a mess on the ground. She deserved so much more than an early, terrifying death that could have been prevented.

The next thing I remember is waking up on the couch. I shot up, heavy breaths coming in at the dream that I quickly remembered was actually a memory. She was gone. And it was my fault. I couldn’t stop myself from acting anymore.

I got up, getting dressed quickly without waking Spencer. I gathered my things, and started packing them all up in a different room than the one he slept in. It didn’t stop him from coming in.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going. No one else is going to die because of me.”

“They’ll kill you.”

I was quiet as I packed the rest of my things. He physically got in my way when he realized I wasn’t going to quit.

“Stop.”

“Move, Spencer.”

He huffed a sigh, taking my arms as I tried to move around him again.

“Please, stop doing this. I don’t want to fight you.”

“Good, because this isn’t your fight to begin with. It’s mine. Pen said to stop waiting, and I’m not going to give up on her dying wish.”

He stomped out of the room, and I thought I was in the clear until he came back a minute later, completely dressed.

“If you’re leaving, I’m coming with.”

I shook my head. “You’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

I pushed past him into the hallway.

“You need to stay safe, Spencer. You’re not safe with me.”

“I still love you, you know?” he called after me as I walked towards the door.

I froze, my eyes closing tightly. He walked up behind me.

“Do you still love me?”

I sighed. “You know I do. But things are different now.”

“It’s been months since you said it. The last time you did was two weeks, three days, and 8 hours from the time we first came here to keep you safe.”

“I’m sorry.”

He grabbed my arm again, and I turned to face him reluctantly.

He furrowed his brow. “If you still love me, then please don’t make me stay here while you run off to die.”

“They might kill you, too, Spence.”

“I know.”

I swallowed, then nodded solemnly. He finished getting ready, and we were off less than an hour later. I didn’t know where to go, so I figured the easiest course of action would be to meet them where they were: DC. The only question that lingered in my mind is if they’d let me get that far before inevitably killing me off. Or worse.

We were traveling as quietly as possible until we got to Virginia. We decided to stay the night at an abandoned hotel, and the easiest way for me to get any peace of mind was turning on the news. Staying updated was the only thing getting me through anymore. There was no such thing as peace. Every day was a new form of hell, and it never ended. I longed for days that were as easy as chasing down serial killers.

I didn’t realize I had drifted off until I heard vehicles approaching. I looked out the window and down at the ground to see multiple cars pulling up quickly.

“Spence,” I whispered, running over to shake him awake. “They’re here. We need to go.”

His eyes shot open.

“What?”

“They found us. They found me, we need to leave.”

He sprung up, gathering his guns before checking out the same window I’d looked through.

“They’re surrounding us.”

I breathed heavily, my mind racing with a million possibilities. I ultimately settled on one.

“Follow me,” I said, running into the hall.

He chased after me blindly, and I let myself take a moment mentally to appreciate that he always trusted me. Hopefully that would carry him through. We burst into the stairwell, and I started racing up the steps. He questioned what I was doing, but ultimately decided to keep chasing after me. I found the door I was looking for, and stepped out onto the roof of the hotel. I turned to look at him as he scrunched up his face in confusion. He glanced around, only paying more attention once I neared the edge.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed quietly, pulling me back.

I watched as the last of the men below entered the building. I took a moment to appreciate the breeze blowing against my warmed skin. I felt everything so much more in that moment. Then, I finally spoke.

“If I jump, you have a chance. They’ll find you here without me. You can say you pushed me, and they’ll let you live.”

He stared for a moment.

“It isn’t right. You can’t just— You can’t do that.”

“There’s worse fates, Spencer. Don’t tell me what’s right when we can’t ever know for sure the difference between right and wrong here. Not anymore.”

“I promised I’d never let anything happen to you. Please don’t make me watch it all be for nothing.”

I looked down at the ground. I was fairly certain that even if I survived the fall, something else would finish me off. Spencer would be safe.

He took my hand. “All of this for so long. We came here together, we stayed together, and for what? For you to die?”

“I can’t let them take me. You can survive. I can’t get away. I lit the fire, and you know that they’ll want to do much worse than kill me for that.”

“Please.”

I shook my head, hearing the voices grow closer as they came up the stairwell. All of these months felt like years. The betrayal from a close friend. Seeing Penelope die because of it. It was like a thousand lifetimes crammed into one. I couldn’t let Spencer be the next on the list who was harmed because of me. My mind was made up. This was the only way he could get out.

“I love you, Spence. But I refuse to let you burn with me.”

He stared, though whether his eyes were filled with horror or emptiness I’m still not sure. All I know is that I fell, and that it didn’t feel like I thought it would.

It felt like peace at last.

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