#like I don’t get the point you’re wasting paper and it takes longer because I have to put it into the machine at least twice

[ellie-the-character]

Okay so please feel free to correct me if this is wrong but last week I found out that checks come from the money from your debit card right?

So then why the fuck are people paying for items from the retail store using a check 😳

[likecastle]

if ur still taking prompts! that ronance boxer fic got me thinking about nancy experiencing gender euphoria! so gender exploration with maybe a lil something with robin being a supportive girlfriend?

I don't know if this is quite what you were hoping for, anon, but it's what I wound up with!

“I should just return it,” Nancy says, gazing longingly at the mirror.

“No, you shouldn’t,” Robin counters from the bed.

Nancy runs her palms along the tailored sides of her jacket against her waist, so nipped it gives even her slender frame the impression of a hourglass figure. “It was so expensive.”

“Worth it,” Robin insists. “Seriously, Nance, it’s like it was made for you.”

Nancy sighs. “It really does fit well.” She loves the way the skirt hugs her hips, the slippery slide of the lining when she moves.

“It fits incredibly well,” Robin agrees. “And the color is great on you.”

It is a good color, a plum so dark it’s almost black—so far from the lavenders and mauves she favored in college, but purple’s never failed her yet. She bites her lip. “You don’t think it’ll look, I don’t know, frivolous? Over the top?” The bullpen is a sea of greys and beiges these days. “I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to stand out.”

Nancy catches sight of Robin’s grin in the mirror. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re gonna stand out no matter what you wear.”

Nancy turns to face Robin now. “So you’re saying I should return it.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “That is not what I’m saying at all.”

“Because if it doesn’t matter what I wear, then I might as well not waste half my paycheck on a suit I probably won’t even work up the nerve to wear.”

“What I’m saying,” Robin says pointedly, “is that it makes you look smart and sexy and extremely in-charge. Which is to say, it makes you look like you.”

Nancy feels, of all things, a knot forming in her throat. Because that’s what she thought, too, standing there in the fitting room in her stocking feet. That was why she hadn’t been able to put it back on the rack and leave it behind—because wearing it made her feel something she’s been chasing ever since that internship at the Hawkins Post, maybe even longer than that. She feels powerful in this suit in a way she never really did in all her frilly pink blouses in college, or in the unobtrusive grey blazers she started wearing in college, just to blend in.

“Have I ever mentioned,” Robin says, reaching out to take Nancy’s hands and draw her closer, “the crush I had on Hildy Johnson in His Girl Friday?”

“You think?” Nancy asks demurely, pleased by the comparison.

Robin nods, slow and serious. “We should get you a little hat.”

Nancy rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “I think I’m going to leave matching hats to Rosalind Russell.”

Robin gives an expressive shrug. “If you insist,” she says, and then in the same breath, she reaches up and yanks the price tag off the jacket, pulling it off with a snap of plastic.

“Robin!” Nancy gasps.

She tosses the price tag and the little paper envelope of spare buttons over her shoulder, unrepentant. “Now you have to keep it.”

“But—”

“You deserve it, Nance.” She takes Nancy’s hips this time, maneuvering her so she’s perched sideways on Robin’s lap. “Even if I hated it—which I very much do not, by the way—I’d still tell you to keep it, because it makes you so . . . I don’t even know what to call it. It just looks right on you. It looks like it feels right on you, like something you didn’t even maybe know was missing just fit into place. Am I right?”

Nancy nods, embarrassed to admit this, even to Robin.

Robin kisses her lightly, so gently it makes Nancy blush, just a little. “Then you should keep it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Nancy says, but she knows she’s going to keep it—and not just because Robin likes it. “But if I lose those spare buttons just because you wanted to make a point, there will be consequences.”

Robin smiles and leans in to kiss her again. “I can live with that.”

[meanlesbean]

Here, have 1,400 words of Majora's Mask angst. inspired by a conversation with @gintrinsic-writing about Link having to pick and choose who to help on the final cycle. I'll put this on my ao3 in a few days when I think of a title. (Edit: better ao3 version up now)

————————————————

On the afternoon of the final day, the Milk Bar is empty.

Madame Aroma won’t arrive for another few hours. In twenty minutes, one of the members of the town guard will show up, but he won’t stay long. He’ll order one of the special drinks that Mister Barten won’t let Link try, chug it all in one big gulp, and then lay his head down on the counter to weep quietly for four and a half minutes. When he’s finished crying, he’ll ask for a shot of something off the top shelf—surprise him, just this once. Then, after his last drink, he’ll shake Mister Barten’s hand, put his helmet back on, and leave.

Unlike some of the other guards, he won’t abandon his post. When the moon falls and swallows the world, he’ll bear witness to the end from his station at the town entrance. 

Right now, it’s just Link and Tatl at the counter. Mister Barten is sweeping up on the stage, and he’s got the phonograph playing some soft piano music instead of the usual Indigo-Go’s songs, which Link is grateful for. Mister Barten isn’t as talkative as he usually is, but Link hasn’t been able to figure out if it’s because it’s the final day or if it’s because Link won’t talk himself. Either way, it’s quiet. The nice kind of quiet too, unlike the Stock Pot Inn, which gets creepy after Anju and her family evacuate. Even with everyone gone, the floorboards don’t stop creaking. 

It’s a good place for thinking and planning. That’s the most important thing left for him to do.

Or at least, that’s what Link thinks. Tatl has other ideas. 

“Are you going to squeeze in an afternoon nap or what?” She buzzes around him like an insect. Link’s adrenaline from the battle against Twinmold had worn off by the time they got back to Clock Town, but Tatl always takes longer to settle after a fight. She lands on the counter to take a small sip of her Chateau Romani, kindly poured into the smallest shot glass in the bar by Mister Barten, and then flies a few more laps around his head. “If you don’t go to bed soon, you won’t be rested before the reset, and I know you’ll stay up with Romani instead of sleeping the next night. I don’t want to be rescuing my brother while you’re in one of your moods.”

Link waves a hand out to get her to stop circling. He gives her a pointed look and then taps the end of his pencil against his open bomber's notebook twice. It’s a portion of his records of the first day, near illegible now with how much information he’s crammed onto the pages. That’s why he’s got a few clean sheets of paper ripped out and put to the side. If this is really the final reset, he can’t afford to waste time with indecision. 

“Huh?” Tatl says. She floats over the notebook to examine it, washing out the pages in her golden light. She flutters and makes an annoyed chiming noise. “What are you getting at now? There can’t be anything else to add on here. You’ve stalked everyone in Termina long enough already.” 

Link shakes his head and holds out his hand. Tatl lands on his palm, her magic tickling at his skin like the sparks from a light arrow, and he lifts her up to his shoulder. His posture relaxes as soon as she sits, the warm buzz of her magic trickling down through his chest and back. An ache he hadn’t noticed in his upper back disappears. It still feels a little weird sometimes, having her nestled in the crook of his neck. The first time her wing had brushed against his neck, he’d almost hit her on reflex, and she didn’t talk to him for the whole day after. Navi had always preferred to perch on top of his head. 

On one of the clean pages, Link lists out all the hours, from six o’clock to five o’clock the next morning. He repeats this for the next page. For the last one, he adds an extra hour at the end and draws the moon and its hungry maw.  Next, he circles Romani’s name in his notebook. On his new timetable, he writes her name between the hours of two and five in the morning. 

He knows that Tatl understands because he feels her go still, then huddle closer to him. Still, he flips through the notes he’s taken, over two dozen pages, for emphasis. Some of his notes are about the temples—he hadn’t made it through the Snowhead or Great Bay temples on his first attempts—but even excluding those, there’s too much. 

Tatl doesn’t speak. In his notebook, Link sees Pamela’s name, and he circles it like he’d done for Romani. When he looks at his timetable though, he pauses. He and Tatl have restored the flow of the Ikana creek and healed Pamela’s father three times: once very late into the night of the second day, once in the morning of the first day, and once more in the evening of the first day. From what Link can tell, Pamela doesn’t sleep well when her father is cursed, and that means Link can free her father at any time.

Pamela needs her father. He knows that, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. She’s young and scared and alone, and Link shouldn’t make her wait. When he looks at the blank time slots of the first day though, all he can see is dozens of other things he needs to do. If he’s going to reunite Anju and Kafei, he needs to spend the afternoon in Clock Town so can talk to Anju. And while he’s in town, it only makes sense for him to help the Great Fairy and go solve the argument in the mayor’s office. He should free at least one of the Giants on that first day too—he can make his way through the temples pretty quickly now, but he couldn’t rush the battles against the beasts holding the Giants captive. Potions and fairies don't work as well when he doesn't sleep. He’d learned the hard way that one little mistake in those battles could take him hours to recuperate from. 

His hand holding the pencil is frozen above the paper. Link stares at the blank pages. 

He feels Tatl release a tiny, quivering breath. Her wings flicker against him a few times as she leans forward. “Okay. We’re not going back to the Stone Tower on the first day. I need a break from that horrible place, and you need to get at least some sleep before going there again. You can take a nap in Romani’s bed, or in Epona’s stall since you’re a little freak, after we defend the ranch. We’ll go to Ikana and free Pamela’s dad and the Giant afterwards. Got it?”

Link nods and picks up the pencil. He gives himself two hours to sleep, then blocks off the rest of the morning for fixing Ikana. Tatl lets out a little ringing noise in approval, then says, “So, we’re going through the whole ordeal of getting Anju and Kafei back together, right?” He nods again. “Okay, then write Anju’s name in the two and eleven thirty times slots.” He does. “We need to go to the ranch and talk to Romani at some point during the day. Let’s do that at five so we can stay for dinner. We can go to the cucoo shack before eating too. Helping Grog always makes you smile.”

Link puts down the pencil. Before Tatl can scold him, he brings his hand up to where she's perched, and he closes his eyes and presses her closer against him. Tatl shifts a bit, and then she wraps both her small arms around his hand. He trembles, and she doesn’t say anything. 

She lets him hold her like that for a minute before she starts pushing him away. “Move your hand, would ya? I can’t read anything like this.”

Link pulls away from her and picks up the pencil again. Tatl pats his shoulder. It feels like raindrops. “Okay, let’s finish filling in the first day. You ready?”

When Link nods, it's the truth. 

“Good. We’ve got this.”

Link believes her.

[something-tofightfor]

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #10: Dieter Bravo - A Kiss While Baking

Writing this made me realize how much I miss Locked Down Dieter. This takes place after the chapter I'm currently working on (it's like ... 70% done) ... and it's motivated me to get back to them.

Thank you for requesting this, @jessthebaker - I think I went a little off from the direction you'd anticipated, but I hope you still like it!

No real rating or warnings - but it *is* Dieter, so be aware of his habits.

Word Count: 1,672

You heard him before you saw him. The sound of his voice - low but frustrated - carried from the kitchen to the hallway where you stood. 

“Dieter?” One hand trailing along the wall as you peeked through the open entryway, you grinned at the sight. “Are you … cooking?” 

“Mmmhmm.” He grunted the agreement out without turning to look at you, the set of his broad shoulders determined. “Well… I’m trying to bake, anyway.” Scanning the countertop while crossing the wide-open space, you reached up when you stepped behind him, your hand pressed to the center of his back. 

“What are you making?” 

“Brownies.” He paused, sliding a mixing bowl across the counter to rest in front of him. “Or, they were supposed to be brownies. I think I fucked up and missed a step because this doesn’t look right.” He turned his head toward you, scowling. “I was going to make them and have them waiting for when you got here, but then I got distracted.” 

“I don’t blame you. You had a lot to do last week before you came to see me.” Leaning in, you kissed his cheek. “Can I help? I’m not sure what you’ve already done, but …” Pointing with one finger, you cleared your throat. “I don’t know this recipe, but if you’re already mixing wet and dry, the eggs should probably be out of their shells.” 

He swore, reaching up and rubbing at his forehead. Without saying anything else, he stepped to the side, making room for you. “This is my grandmother’s recipe, and I��ve made it too many times to count, but…” He trailed off, the man’s fingers deftly cracking eggs against the side of the bowl before he split the shells, the contents dropping in with the other mixture. “But today I’m a little … out of it.” 

“The holidays are always harder.” Nudging him with your elbow, you began to grease the pan, sneaking looks at him while you worked. “Especially for you, since you’re trying to wrap up a bunch of stuff in the next couple days and you’ve got a girlfriend that kept you awake really late last night.” 

“Yeah. How dare she.” He huffed out a quiet laugh. “I kinda miss last year, y’know?” He set the spoon down, brushing stray flour from his palms. “When all we had to worry about was whether or not Gunther was going to get pissed that we weren’t following his rules.” You laughed, setting the paper towel that you’d used down, too. 

“It seems like we’ve known each other so much longer than we have, Dieter. If you would have told me last Christmas that we’d be here now, in your kitchen, making brownies together, I wouldn’t … I would have wanted it to be true, but never thought that it could have been.” 

“First of all,” he started, reaching past you for a bag of chocolate chips. “While you’re here, this is your kitchen, too.” He dumped half of the bag into the bowl, paused and then shrugged, dumping in more. Why am I not surprised? “Second of all, if I remember right, last Christmas was when this picked up between us, and  that was about when I started picturing you here.” 

That admission shocked you, but instead of making a comment about it - even as a joke - you stayed quiet. If that’s true then … we wasted so much damn time between then and now. 

 He’d fit into your family’s holiday celebrations with ease - the man charming them just like he charmed so many people he came into contact with on a daily basis. Even though his visit was short, he’d won them over easily, none of your family batting an eye when you’d mentioned that in the new year, you were thinking about exploring the idea of spending more time in California. It’s because I’m already gone so much. It wouldn’t be any different for them.

“Pass me that spatula.” He used his chin to gesture toward the utensil, one hand under the bowl of batter, the other steadying it. “Or, nevermind. Just hold onto it for a second.” Fingers closing around the wooden handle, you waited to see what he’d do next. 

Dieter poured the batter with precision, splitting it between the two greased pans. He focused on what he was doing, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his lips - and you smiled at the sight, eyes flicking down from his face to his hands and then back up. “I could get used to seeing you in a kitchen, Dieter. How’d you hide this for so long?”

“If you move out here, you’d be able to get used to it.” He glanced over, smirking. “And I have a reputation to uphold. Can’t just let everyone know I’m not as inept at taking care of myself as it might seem.” You laughed quietly, turning your body so that you could rest your hip against the counter. When he took the spatula from you and used it to scrape the sides of the bowl, you focused on the flex of his fingers and the way his wrist moved with each motion. I am the luckiest fucking - “Wanna lick?” 

He held the utensil up, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, you’re one of those.” Rolling your eyes, you cocked your head to the side. “Bet you eat raw cookie dough, too.”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” He grinned, extending his tongue to clean one side of the rubber off. “They have that eggless shit now, and it’s supposed to be safe. But it doesn’t taste the same.” He held it out to you again and you took it, fingers closing around his. “Best part of baking is licking the spoon clean, and the most exciting part is the looming threat of food poisoning or Salmonella or whatever the fuck it -”

“Well then, Dieter… guess we’re both gonna risk it. Good thing I’m here for two and a half weeks.” You closed your eyes at the taste of the chocolate as it coated your tongue, groaning as you got your first taste of the rich flavor. “Wait a minute, is there cinnamon in these? I didn’t see you -”

“If I told you then I would have to kill you.” He winked, reaching for your wrist and closing his fingers  around it. “This recipe is a secret. The only way I can give it to you is if you were to become a Bravo.” Oh. Oh, shit. It was the first time he’d brought that up - even casually - and based on his reaction - the slight twist of his lips and a raised eyebrow - you realized that you must not have been able to hide yours. “Do you like it?” 

“I do.” You set the spatula down into the sink, wiping your hand off on your denim-covered thigh. “And I’m no stranger to carefully guarded family recipes, so I get it.” Your heart was pounding despite your voice remaining steady. “I can’t wait to taste them when they’re baked. You put so many chocolate chips in there, they’re going to be gooey and -”

“Her recipe actually calls for walnuts. But since I can’t eat ‘em, she’d…” He swallowed hard, the joking tone replaced with a serious one. “She’d make me my own batch - first, before she made the other one, and replace the nuts with extra chocolate. So now I do the same.” 

Your chest tightened at his admission - and like so many of the other tiny truths Dieter had gifted you with over the months you’d known him, that one hit hard.  “I’m glad you had people to care for you like that as a kid, Dieter. It’s the small things, right? Those are the ones we rememb-” 

He cut you off when he leaned in to kiss you, Dieter’s lips sealing over yours with a practiced ease that not even all the time you’d spent apart could change. You kissed him back, arms going around his neck to hold him close - and when Dieter sighed against your lips, his tongue trailing over them with purpose, you knew that he agreed with you. He pulled back first, the smile still on his lips though it was lazy. “Got some chocolate right… there.” 

He reached out as he spoke, thumb swiping over the corner of your lip and then toward the center, where he pushed it between them. You cleaned it off, focused on the way Dieter’s eyes darkened at the suction - and when you smiled around the digit, he gave you one in return.

“Fucking tease.” Shaking his head back and forth, Dieter moved to step back, but you didn’t let him. “What?” 

“You didn’t put anything into the oven yet, so we wouldn’t have to worry about them burning…” Leaving things open - and the opportunity for him to make the decision - you waited, fingers laced together behind his neck. 

It didn’t take him long to choose, Dieter’s grin growing and his hands dropping back to your hips. He took a step backward and pulled you with him, never looking away from your face. “You’re a bad influence, and coming from me that’s saying a lot..” But you’re not saying no. 

“I’m about to be a worse one.” He stopped moving, hands tightening against your body. “When I saw you baking, I figured you’d be making pot brownies or something, but -”

“Oh, that’s a different recipe.” He wrinkled his nose. “She’d come back just to kill me if I did that to her brownies, so I never have.” He leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours. “But the ones from the dispensary around the corner are much better than anything I’ve ever made. They know their shit. We’ll order some later, if you want. I’m sure they’re wondering why they haven’t heard from me in a while.” 

You laughed at that, Dieter sliding one hand away and then taking yours, palms pressed together. “Sounds good, Dieter. Whatever you want.” As long as it’s me.

—

[riddle-me-ri]

Alright so this is less romantic and more shitposty but. If I can request the scarecrows' responses to a gotham university psychology student showing up at his doorstep like "hey uh could you look at my thesis?" Like fully prepared to be fear toxin-ed on the spot but absolutely worth the risk cause lord knows that's some shit I'd do 💀

A/N:  hnnggg this shouldn't have taken as long as it did but I kept taking it too seriously except for the absolute crack that it is lmao I have no doubt in reality it'd be a miracle if any of them opened the damn door.

Scarecrows Reacting To A Student Looking for Feedback (crack)

Arkhamverse Scarecrow:

First of all, how did you find him?

Secondly, how dare you disturb him?

Are you fearless or just foolishly stupid?

He genuinely can’t tell and he doesn’t want to waste time thinking about it.

However, since you’re here now…

And it doesn’t look like you’re going anywhere anytime soon.

Clearly, despite how many threats he’s shot your way.

He isn’t opposed to a willing test subject

Nolanverse/Murphy Scarecrow:

Well, this was odd. 

If not also incredibly annoying.

When he hears your reason for being on his front stoop.

He is shocked…

Surely your institution has much more qualified, not to mention more relevant assistance to look over your paper. 

He’s a man of science making headways, he has no time to–

Well, actually…he hasn’t seen very sufficient results in his recent Arkham patients…

BTAS Scarecrow:

Really? Him? 

Even when he was a professor, none of his students came to him for a review.

No doubt he’s itching to just shut the door on you. 

Then again, perhaps he can hold you ransom for some money to fund his toxin…

And on top of that he can also use you for testing the effects of his recent toxin…

How he could make it stronger, faster, last longer…

Besides, he’s never gotten a chance to properly review a term paper..

This should be fun. 

TNBA Scarecrow: 

He’s likely to ignore it, if not open it, yell at you and then slam the door.

This Scarecrow doesn’t have time for this nonsense.

Surely, you have other institutional superiors that you can go to?

Why would you willingly dive headfirst into danger? 

Unless…you just don’t care? 

If you’re so willing to get into danger, perhaps he should take advantage of it. 

He debates with himself for a minute…

Before finally just gassing you with his toxin. 

Taking sweet delight in your screams.

Fear State Scarecrow: 

You should consider yourself lucky that he even answered the door.

Like seriously, the only reason he answered was because of your incessant knocking. 

He had half a mind to slip on his mask and inject you with toxin and be done with it.

He’s far too busy planning his Fear State Theory into motion.

Jonathan can’t have any distractions or loose ends…

Everyone has their role to play, he was so sure that Gotham would enter it’s Fear State seamlessly. 

Patience running low, he does open the door, and one threat is all you get. 

When you don’t leave, it’s very much your fault that you’re screaming bloody murder down the street. 

Year One Scarecrow:

Jonathan groans at the prospect. 

His past sure has a strange way of following him somehow. 

Again, you should be surprised he even answers the door. 

But you kept pushing your paper underneath his front door. 

Quite, infuriating him. 

It takes a few more threats and slams of the door before he finally reaches his breaking point. 

He slaps on his mask, believing he’s done all he could to be rid of you. 

Perhaps, a reminder will help you.

He’s no professor, a scholar on fear. 

He’s The Scarecrow, the Master of Fear…and you’ve just experienced his wrath as you breathe in the toxic fumes. 

Masters of Fear Scarecrow:

Jonathan is confused, if not also agitated. 

Is this some kind of joke? 

His lived a long pathetic life of humiliation…

He doesn’t need it coming to him, knocking at his front door. 

You can’t just expect anyone with a PhD is willing to help you…

What kind of simpleton just walks up to a known high-class criminal, a criminally insane criminal? 

Honestly, when spoken like that, it was quite admirable. 

Took a lot of courage…bravery…or just a huge lack of common sense. 

Yes, yes, he’ll take a look, but first…indulge him in your fears

(it’ll help him in his own research later) 

HQ:TAS Scarecrow:

Jonathan thinks this must be some kind of joke.

Surely, this is the Legion pulling his leg, what else could it be?

Not only that, how else would you found out where he lived?

It has to be a joke. 

He tries to play along, but is quick to realize you’re actually being serious. 

Probably the only one that’s actually going to help you with your thesis paper. 

1000/10 would recommend 

And you may even get a member of the Legion of Doom as a friend. 

HHSD Scarecrow: 

I’m surprised Grandpa could hear you knocking.

Just kidding, only a little, I love to love and rag on this version when I can. 

But you really shouldn’t have picked a night when there were Elvira re-runs. 

Jonathan opens the door, reluctantly and is perplexed, but immediately annoyed. 

He didn’t have time for these things when he WAS a professor. 

He thought he left this type of harassment years ago, why do you choose to haunt him now with it? 

When you fail to leave on your own accord. He advises you to go away through a speaker by his door. 

When you still refuse, he decides enough is enough. 

Jonathan was inspired by that intriguing night at Crystal Cove, as he used a maniacal jack-al-lantern of his own to run you off.

[zhongliologist]

Not a Fairytale | Alhaitham

Pairing: Alhaitham x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 1.1k

A/N: I just had a sudden idea and went with it. Unfortunately, I dont think I can write any longer than this for now. I'm still deciding if I should just let this be a drabble or if I'll turn it into a series, but yeah here you go.

At first, you thought it was simply a figment of your imagination.

Who wouldn’t? You can’t even remember when was the last time you had a proper rest. In fact, you were practically living in the Akademiya’s library because you just can’t be separated from your work. You don’t have much time to waste—there were exams to study for, theses to complete, and references to pour into. Much like every scholar of the Akademiya, who can blame you?

So when you saw the scroll you were studying glow golden; the specks of light floating in the air until they merged to form a silhouette of a man, you just sat there on your seat thinking that you had finally lost it.

“What are you gawking at?”

The being from the scroll asked, his peridot eyes scrutinizing you as if you were some insect on display.

“Oh!” You shifted positions on your chair, totally unbothered. “You can talk.”

“Huh. What do you think?”

The man was tall and fit with good features, while his ash colored hair was parted by large headphones over his ears. It seemed like he was some sort of Akademiya scholar as well, but it was weird that he came from inside the scroll. You had no explanation for that except that you were possibly hallucinating.

You hummed at him, eyes heavy and deflated. You didn’t have the energy to reprimand the mysterious entity for being rude, instead you just watched him taking the nearest seat and opening some book to read.

“How peculiar,” you remarked, head leaned on the side to study him. “I’m not sure if you really came from the scroll or if you’re just part of my imagination.”

The man arched a brow at you. “Oh? What if I really did come from the scroll. What then?”

You shrugged, as if this was some commonplace conversation. “I guess I have no choice but ask how that’s possible. Besides, you haven’t even told me who you are.”

“I could say the same to you.”

You exhaled. Immediately, you knew the man was a handful, and you don’t need a handful—not on top of all the work you had to do.

“I’m Y/N. I’m a scholar in the Akademiya and I’m working on a research project which involves the scroll you came from. Your turn.” You replied curtly, and straight to the point; leaving no room for snarky remarks.

“Huh. So that explains it.” The man closed his book and turned his head towards you, though he still looked unimpressed. “I’m Alhaitham. I’m the Akademiya’s Grand Scribe, that is until that scroll absorbed me.”

For the first time in forever, you were at a loss for words. “The—the scroll absorbed you?”

“In my own research, this scroll is a malicious object from the era of the first sages. Perhaps a lesson for the overzealous scholar, who much like I did, spent too much time studying it until I was seeped into the pages.”

You hummed. “Interesting.”

It would be great to learn how to imbue an object with leyline energy; enough that it can trap souls in it. But just like what Alhaitham had said, that could be quite hazardous.

“So, what are you going to do now? How can you get out of there?”

“Currently, I see no way out, except…”

Alhaitham’s words trailed off as he glanced over at the mountains of books and papers strewn around you both.

“Except what?” you asked, curious.

Unbeknownst to you, a thought was running inside Alhaitham’s mind. It could work, but he was not a hundred percent confident that things would fall into place. But if he was right…then…

“Say…YN,” the man turned to you. “You said you’re currently in the middle of a project, is that correct?”

You leaned your head to the side, wondering why the topic was suddenly changed. “Huh…well, yes. I’m struggling though.”

“I can help you with it.”

The suddenness of his suggestion made you pause and consider what he was saying. There was an incredulous look on your face which Alhaitham thought was amusing. Standing up, he strolled closer to where you were sitting.

“…in exchange for what…?” you asked, sure that no offer was with no catch.

“I think I know how to get out of the scroll but I need your help.”

 Considering it for a few moments, you felt that there was no harm in helping the poor guy. He was probably trapped there for a long time now, who knows. And besides, he did claim to be a grand scribe, which meant he had enough brain power to help you in all the research you need. It was tempting.

“Oh fine. As long as it doesn’t involve killing, sacrificing or any untoward harm to me or anyone, I guess I can help you.”

Alhaitham made a small smile, which seemed more like a smirk to you. “Excellent. Then we have an agreement.”

He held out his hand at you for a shake, which you took.

However, instead of letting you go, Alhaitham leaned forward and pulled you towards him. Perhaps you were just exhausted but the speed of what happened prevented your brain from processing everything. With hand now holding you firmly behind your back and another one cupping your cheek, you saw peridot eyes right before you.

“What are you—mmph!!”

In a split second, you felt his soft lips on yours, melding together seamlessly. Every nerve in your body sent waves of electricity down your spine; waking you up from your fatigue. You were confused, and tried to push him away yet his body was as hard as rock and his grip was tight and firm that there was nothing you could do.

You felt him waver for a moment, lifting his lips from yours, yet suddenly, Alhaitham dove right back in, kissing you more deeply and roughly than before. He bit and nibbled at your lips, his tongue prying your mouth open. Feeling lightheaded, you never had a chance. The man easily slipped his tongue right in, finding yours and playing it until he was satisfied.

As it happened, your shock turned into confusion, which turned into giddiness. The kiss may be sudden but it was good, and you probably needed it for some time. You reveled in the feeling of sexual pleasure and ecstasy until it was taken from you as fast as it came.

When Alhaitham pulled back, he gazed into your eyes, still dazed and breathless.

“Perhaps my theory was wrong then.”

Your brows knitted together in bewilderment. “W-What…?”

Alhaitham grinned at you. “The only way to get out of the scroll is through a ‘true love’s kiss’.”

You grimaced.

“Are…are you fucking serious…?”

[tinyinvadr]

Next chapter’s here!

tw: Brief reference to past abuse, not super detailed, but just wanted to include a warning anyway

Ch. 1/Ch. 2/Ch. 3/Ch. 4/Ch. 5

Petal in the Audience

Chapter 6

Dad didn’t waste any time on getting me started with borrowing. The moment midnight struck, we headed out.

Our main priorities were food and sewing material, since Mom and I have been making bags to carry our belongings to our new home. Mostly Mom, though. Once again, I’m terrible at it.

Thankfully, we didn’t need anything in Randall or Kira’s bedrooms, so there were no awkward moments. I actually enjoyed borrowing with Dad. We were never really that close, and it felt nice to have something to do together.

Mom gave me a big hug when we got back. She was absolutely terrified of the idea of going out borrowing, but it’s a necessary skill that all of us must learn in order to ensure our survival. She’s never gone out once in my entire lifetime, so I’m guessing she gave it up the moment she met Dad.

It felt good to hear my parents talk about how brave and mature I am, but I also couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that they didn’t know the real reason behind my sudden confidence boost.

Meeting my friends changed me in a way I never expected. I used to be so passive, just waiting and watching, never doing anything by myself. But because of them, I’m motivated to take risks and work towards my goal of staying with them. It took breaking the number one rule of borrowerkind for me to become independent. It feels wrong, but it also feels right.

I waited until the afternoon of the next day to sneak out, since Logan was supposed to be coming over. I didn’t always get to see him, so I tried to sneak out whenever possible when he visited.

It turns out, the three of them were all sitting on the floor waiting for me when I came out from under the bed.

“Hey, Petal! Guess what? Your plan worked! Dad noticed there weren’t mice anymore and got rid of the traps!” Kira said excitedly.

Without warning, Logan grabbed me with both hands and playfully hugged me against his chest, quickly rocking back and forth.

“That means you’re all ours, now!”

After getting over my fit of laughter, I told them that my parents were still planning on moving, but since Dad started letting me borrow with him, I’d be sure to point out the lack of traps.

“Wait, so you’re borrowing for real now? That’s so cool!” Logan turned to the other two, geeking out. “She really is just like Arrietty, right?”

“I don’t know who that is, but I’ll take your word for it!”

The four of us hung out and played a card game for a bit, but soon it was time for me to head back. We all wished I could stay longer, but this was the way it had to be.

Dad and I went on another borrowing trip that night, and when we passed by the hallway where the traps used to be, he stopped to look at the empty space and smile.

“Looks like the mice are all gone. That’s good.”

As we headed into the kitchen, Dad put a hand on my shoulder.

“Petal, your mother and I have been talking, and we think we’re going to stay here after all. The main reason we wanted to leave in the first place is because we were worried something would happen to you, but you’ve really matured in this past month. We’re just so proud of the person you’re becoming, and we’re confident that you’ll be able to take care of yourself someday. So, seeing as those traps are gone, I think it’s safe to say we aren’t going anywhere.”

It worked. The plan worked. I had to keep my excitement contained, but I wanted to celebrate so badly.

“Thanks, I’m glad to hear that you think I’m maturing.”

The rest of the trip went smoothly. That is, until we reached our last stop: Randall’s room.

Dad wanted to get a sticky note since we ran out of paper, and he liked to write lists of what we needed to borrow. There was a pack on his desk, and since there was a nearby entrance to our home in the walls under the bed, it was our best option.

I avoided looking at the bed at all costs. If Dad got any sense that I still cared about the humans, it would ruin everything.

We worked quickly, climbing up onto the desk. It took me back to when I first ventured out alone so I could get one of his dice. And on that very same day, I met Randall for the first time.

No, I couldn’t think about that. I just had to get the sticky note and go.

After peeling it off the pad, we started to climb back down. As we did, Randall started mumbling in his sleep.

“It’s okay.” Dad whispered. “He’s a sleep talker, but he’s not going to wake up.”

Apparently, Dad knew something about Randall that I didn’t. It made sense. I always went to bed around the same time he did, and it would be weird to watch him sleep, anyway. But Dad went out borrowing every night, so he had to know all of the humans’ sleep habits.

I wasn’t worried. His speech was completely incoherent, and it really didn’t seem like he was waking up.

But just as we were about to go under the bed, his voice became way too clear.

“Petal… I love you…”

My face turned bright red, and I refused to look at Dad. We both stopped in our tracks, an uncomfortable silence taking over after Randall uttered those words.

I knew Dad wasn’t going to scream at me, at least not until we got back home, but his silence was almost worse. It was like the calm before a storm, except it wasn’t calm at all, just very, very quiet.

“Petal. Home. Now.”

I didn’t dare waste a second, not wanting to make him any angrier, and I rushed into the hole in the wall.

We walked for a bit, and he remained silent until he was sure we were far enough away from the hole.

“Why would you do it, Petal?”

“He’s… He’s not dangerous, Dad. And neither are the others. He helped get rid of the mice, and he didn’t even kill them, he let them go.”

“That doesn’t matter, you don’t really know any of them. And even if you think you do, you don’t. Because humans will never pass up the opportunity to remind you who has the power. They only want to control us, they don’t see us as equal.”

“How do you know they’re all bad!? Have you ever even met one!?”

I backed off, only realizing what I said until after I said it. I’d never talked back to my Dad before.

“Sorry.” I blurted out in a last ditch effort to retract it.

He sighed. “No, I haven’t. But… your mother has…”

Right then and there, I learned the full story about Mom. I’d only ever heard the sanitized version. My Dad lived in this house all his life, and Mom came from another house in the neighborhood, and the two of them fell in love.

But before that, Mom was in a secret relationship with a human man.

He was married, but he had convinced Mom that he truly loved her, and she fell right into his trap. Over time, he gradually and subtly became more and more controlling, to the point where she was never allowed out of his sight.

She was only able to escape when his wife found out and the two had a big fight, leaving him distracted. She fled to this house, where Dad immediately took her in. That’s why she doesn’t borrow or even leave the walls, because she’s terrified of being seen and having something like that happen to her again.

“You can never be sure of their true intentions. Petal, please, you have to understand, we only want to keep you safe. Now, I want you to go to your room and finish packing. We leave tomorrow night.”

It hurt. After hearing a story like that… I wanted to believe that my friends were really my friends, but the fact that someone who Mom thought loved her ended up hurting her…

And Randall… Did he really mean that? Was it in a platonic way, or…? And did I…?

No. Not an option. I couldn’t take that risk.

But at the same time, I still cared about him. About all of them. I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye. I understood why we had to leave, but I would hate to walk out on them without warning. I hoped with all my heart they would understand. I didn’t want to tell them the details of Mom’s trauma, but I had to be open and honest about my fear.

I guess, I was just really hoping they would prove me wrong.

[crimsonkenjii-writes]

Writing a Nanami fluff based off these prompts I found cuz it just seemed way too cute. And I could literally see gojo and nanami going back and forth about this lmaoo

Nanami Kento x Gn!Reader

Synopsis: Nanami Kento takes his job too seriously. He doesn’t like to bring emotions or any personal matters into work. However, his coworker, Gojo Satoru, it tired of seeing him in denial, wasting his opportunity to just be with you already.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

“Alright. I think that’s everything. I should go file these away now.” You chimed as you collected the last few papers from you’re coworker, Nanami.

“You don’t have to do those you know. I could do it for you. You shouldn’t take on more of a workload than you need to.” He says gently.

“Are you questioning my ability to handle my own job, Kento?” You tease him, a small smile on your face. Nanami quickly becomes flustered, worried he offended you. Scrambling over his words to try and fix his mistake. Make it more clear about what he intended.

You laugh at him, placing a hand on his chest as reassurance. “I’m joking, Kento. Thank you for the offer but I got this. Plus, you’re no longer a business man, right? Wouldn’t want you filing paper work again. Could bring back nightmares.” You tease once more, giving his chest a small pat.

Nanami hoped you couldn’t feel his heart about to beat out of his chest. Your presence alone was enough to make his stomach a swarm of butterflies. But your laugh, god your laugh. It was enough to give him a heart attack right on the spot. How much smaller your hand felt in comparison to his chest. The fact that you felt so comfortable to touch him to begin with. You were driving him mad.

“Alright see you two later!” You call out, waving your hand goodbye as you twirl on your heel to make your way back into the building to deal with the reports of your latest mission.

Two? Who was two? Nanami questioned to himself. He was so entranced by you that he’d forgotten that Gojo was also there. His body becomes rigid again, finally remembering that his coworker was there the entire time to witness all that. Hopefully that blindfold of his actually partially blinded him.

Gojo, however, had witnessed it all. But it barely fazed him at this point. He was more agitated than anything. He’s been watching his two coworkers practically flirt on the down-low for how long now? He’s lost count! But he was tired of seeing it and nothing happening. A slick smile stretching across his face as he couldn’t help but think of a way to irritate his favorite coworker.

“If there’s nothing going on there, you don’t mind if I ask Y/N out, do you?” Gojo holds back his laughter.

Nanami is quick to turn to the white haired man and give him a glare.

“No.” Nanami says sternly. His emotions getting the better of him. He instantly regretted it, knowing this had practically exposed him.

“Ah, so there is something going on?” He further teases.

“There isn’t.” Nanami says sternly once again, his arms folding over his chest. “We’re just…. Coworkers.”

“Coworkers,” Gojo mocks, “Don’t look at each other that way.”

Nanami freezes for a bit. He was embarrassed that Gojo was able to see how you both looked at each other. Of course, Nanami always denied it. He refused to believe that the look in your eyes when you saw him was genuine. The way your eyes would always light up when you would absentmindedly turn your head and catch a glimpse of him. The way you couldn’t break eye contact with him even if you tried, hanging on to every word that came out of his mouth. Even if it was all about work, you always seemed so sucked into him. Not wanting to deviate you’re attention elsewhere. Because if you did, you feared he might lose his interest as well.

Gojo snickers to himself, finding it funny to see how silent the blonde man went after his statement. Gojo could clearly see the gears turning in Nanami’s head.

“You’re in denial.” Gojo sings out, clearly wanting to tease Nanami some more.

“I’m not in denial!” Nanami quickly snaps back. Feeling his cheeks starting to burn and his heart pumping fast in his chest. He goes to adjust his glasses to try and hide his blush.

Gojo laughs once more, “You’re so full of shit. Come on! You’re in love with them!” He draped his arm across Nanami’s shoulders and pats his chest with his other free hand.

Nanami keeps his arms crossed, looking straight forward as he recollects himself. Managing to get his pesky emotions in check again.

“It’s easy to confuse feelings for something they aren’t. We just care for each other as coworkers. Possibly friends. But either way, we have a risky job. It’s just normal to care for your coworkers when one day everything could go south. It’s platonic. All the way. Nothing more. Don’t pester me about it.” Nanami starts to lose his cool again towards the end of his ramble.

He often thought about that. How you both do have a dangerous job. One day a mission could go horribly wrong. And in the worst case scnerio, the last thing he’d be able to do with you is file away your name into a forbidden cabinet forever. And live the rest of his life in regret that he never was able to tell you how crazy you made him. How he could never stop thinking about you. How he loved the way you looked up at him when he called your name. How easily your name slips from his mouth, leaving the sweetest taste behind. How desperately he just wanted to hold you in his arms and fall asleep with you like that, just to sleep in the next morning and wake up with you still next to him. Your hair messy from tossing and turning in your sleep but no matter how “unflattering” you would say you look in the morning he personally could never get enough of it.

“God, just, put us all out of our misery and admit it already.” Gojo groaned, his hands deep in his pockets, throwing his head back in defeat. Nanami was in so much denial it was now physically painful to watch.

“Us?” Nanami questions, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh, yeah! You two are so obvious! It’s clear to everyone that you both are absolutely head over heels for each other. It doesn’t take an idiot to figure it out. Kind of giving me a headache at this point with nothing happening about it.” Gojo exclaims.

“You’re calling me an idiot?”

“If you still think that you don’t have feeling for Y/N, then yeah, absolutely.”

Nanami knew he couldn’t deny it anymore. He knew everyone could see right through him. He hated how transparent he was being but you just had that affect on him. It was hard being able to control himself around you. He felt like a stupid teenager again. Not being able to control himself around his silly little crush. Blushing like an idiot anytime you teased him or called out his name from your sweet lips. His palms getting sweaty every time you were in his presence because you made his heart pump that fast that he’d get so nervous he would start to sweat.

Nanami lets out a sigh of defeat. He looked at the ground. His mind still racking with what he should do. He didn’t want to be unprofessional and date a coworker. But he also knew that that was bullshit. Dating a coworker couldn’t go that haywire as media likes to put it, right? And he knew you both were smart. He knew your feelings for each other wouldn’t affect work. Nanami believed in you to remain professional, even if you were to give him a quick goodbye kiss before either of you left for a mission.

Gojo grabs Nanami’s shoulder and turns him to be facing one another.

“Look me in the eyes, and tell me you don’t feel something for Y/N.” His blindfold still securely on his face. Nanami furrows his brows, knowing Gojo is being an idiot on purpose now.

“Your blindfold is on, idiot. I can’t look you in the eyes.”

“Exactly!” Gojo exclaims, “Can’t look me in the eyes, can’t tell me you don’t like Y/N, which means you totally do!NowDoSomethingAboutIt!!!” He says quickly at the end, both of his hand gripping Nanami’s shoulders as he shakes him.

Nanami swats Gojo’s hand off his shoulders as he lets out another heavy sigh. He was no longer in denial about his own feelings, but he was still skeptical of yours. What if he had some kind of filter on you that made him think you liked him back? A filter making him believe that everything you did was an act of love because that’s what he wanted to believe. That’s what he wanted from you because of his stupid little crush on you. Nanami didn’t want to risk making things awkward between the two of you. Even if you two were only friends for the rest of your lives, at least he’d still have you in his life. He didn’t want to risk it.

“Y/N’s everything to me. Everything I ever wanted,” he sighs again, now looking at his coworker, “I don’t want to risk losing them as a friend.”

Gojo could see the pain and conflict in Nanami’s face. He voice lowering and becoming more serious. “You really don’t see it, do you? You know that’s not the case. Y/N adores you.” He places a hand on Nanami’s shoulder once more. Slightly squeezing it as reassurance. Gojo was always goofy, but he knew when to be serious. He knew that this could be a lot on Nanami. Gojo wanted to make sure that Nanami knew that he had his back. He would never set up his friend for failure like that.

“Opening up, and being vulnerable about your feelings can be extremely hard, I get that, Nanami. I understand the worries that you have. But trust me, it hurts far more worse to have never told that person how you truly felt about them. To live the rest of your life thinking that maybe something could have happened. A relationship could have been there in place of the stupid euphoric jitters you get of being near your crush. Yeah, there’s no guarantee of the future. But stressing over it makes it worse. Because then you’ll get stuck in the past of what you could have done better. We’re only given once chance during present time, so we always got to make it count. And if you don’t go into that building, right now, and tell Y/N how you feel. You will regret it.”

Nanami was moved by Gojo’s words. He’s never seen him more serious before. He looks down and gives a slight nod. “Thank you…” he says quietly, almost inaudible. Gojo smiles and pats the blonde’s shoulder. Nanami starts to run towards the building you had disappeared into earlier.

Nanami runs up the steps, hoping you hadn’t gone home yet. He needed to catch you right here and right now.

You had just finished filing away the paperwork and were now walking down the hallway, thinking about what you could have for dinner.

Heavy footsteps quickly making their way up the stairs as you were still stuck in your thoughts. You turn to start to making your way down the stairs when you almost collide with someone else.

“Oh!” You exclaim as you stumble back. “I’m so sorry!” You chime out, apologizing to whomever you almost crashed in to.

“Y/N… you’re still here…” Nanami lets out between small breathes.

“Oh! Kento! It’s you!” You say happily. Butterflies starting to flutter in your stomach and chest.

“I… I need to tell you something…” Nanami lets out quietly. His ears and cheeks burning as he grew more and more nervous.

He steps up the stairs so that he’s on the same floor as you. Standing extremely close as he looks down at you. You look up at him, wondering what he wanted to talk about. His arms twitch at his sides, holding back the urge to hold you in his embrace.

He removes his glasses and stows them away into his pockets as he starts to stumble over his words. He brings his hand to the back of his neck to try and soothe his nerves.

“I’ve just been thinking lately... Um…I’m struggling to find the words…” he scoffs to himself, smiling slightly, embarrassed with how shy he was acting. His eyes avoiding your gaze.

“It’s alright…” you let out quietly. “I’m not in a rush. I want to hear what you have to say.”

Nanami’s heart flutters. He loves how patient you always were, especially with him.

“Do you think that this, us…” he talks quietly, now bold enough to meet your gaze, “do you think that it could be something more?”

You were taken aback. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He confessed right now, right? Just now? That was a confession? Your crush just asked you to be… more??

“More…” you repeated back in a daze. “Like… more than friends? As in… date…?”

Nanami started to grow more nervous. This wasn’t a rejection was it?

“Yes…” he nods. “I think I’m falling in love with you…” without thinking, his hands are drawn to you. His larger hand holds onto your arm as the other pushes aside stray hairs to cup your face. His face getting dangerously close to yours.

“In love with me…?” You repeat again, your eyes now locked on his lips.

“Very much…” he whispers back, his warm breath touching your burning cheeks.

Your hands slide up his chest as you feel your heart racing. How long it was taking him to just kiss you already felt like a painful tease. Your hands continue to glide up Nanami, finally reaching around his neck and into his hair.

“God, just kiss me already…” you let out barely above a whisper, moving yourself closer into him so you could close the space between your lips. Both melting into the warm embrace of each other. Sparks starting in your lips and traveling to the rest of your body. It felt like sparks and butterflies in your head, taking over any coherent thoughts. Nanami’s strong arms take hold of you even tighter, deepening the kiss. You both release with a smack as you both let out small heaves of breath.

He moves hair out of your face again as his thumb gently glide against your cheek. A wide smile stretching across his face and nothing but adoration in his eyes. He starts to laugh a little, getting shy once more. Nanami tucks his head into your shoulder to hide his goofy smile and embarrassing blush as you laugh along with him.

“I was making plans for dinner if you wanted to join me…” you say softly. Nanami places an innocent kiss on your neck, “I would love to…”

[sukirichi]

sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face.  “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan​ @ggsmashgg​ @dora-the-grownup​ @ninefuckingoneone​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[captains-simp]

Hi bestieeee, congratulations on 1K!!! I have a request for you!! Mommy!Nat or Dark!Nat blackmailing R into sex or else R would be fired?? Thank you

I wonder who this request is from?🤔

2.8k words

Warnings: dub-con (bordering on non-con), coercion, blackmail, unhealthy power dynamic, oral sex (giving), praise, strap on sex and cum filled strap on

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You knew Natasha was coming before you saw her; before you even heard the chilling sound of her heels against the polished floors of the 46th level. You knew because you saw it in your coworkers eyes. You saw the way they cowered behind their desks and averted their eyes or made a swift exit from the area entirely. You knew because that was just how it worked at Romanoff Industries.

You were lucky enough to have your own office. Well, that should have made you lucky in avoiding Natasha's piercing gaze but it did not. Most of the time she stalked down the area outside your office she came straight to you and even if it wasn't her destination she would be sure to look in as she went by.

That was one of your less fortunate days, she was coming to see you and it wasn't to deliver a compliment about your hard work. Your boss let herself into your office without knocking and strolled over to your desk, her hips swaying in the mesmerising way they always did in those incredibly tight skirts.

"What happened to that report that was meant to be sent to me hours ago?" She demanded as she stood in front of your desk.

"Apparently someone picked up on some faults of the latest design so we can't do anything right now." You tried to explain but Natasha never did like excuses. "I don't know when it will be fixed." You continued.

"And you didn't think to tell me this?" Natasha glared.

"I thought someone would have told you." You were right, a lot of someone's had told the redhead, but apparently she needed to hear it from you too. "It's not my job to." You couldn't help but add. You knew Natasha hated when people pointed out things she didn't want to hear, more so when they did so confidently. You were one of the few who managed it, maybe that was why Natasha seemed to have it out for you. It was just a compulsion to you, to one up your boss. Even if it rarely succeeded.

You had always had mixed feelings about Natasha. Sometimes you thought when she went home at night she venturer into some cave that led to the pits of hell where she returned to her rightful throne. Other times that tough and stubborn show she put on was nothing short of admirable. There was no doubt it was what got her her success and therefore gave you a job. It was just hard to deal with when it was aimed at you individually, or what you could argue felt like personally.

"Don't give me that." She snapped. You were aware of all the eyes of your coworkers looking in on the pair of you and hanging on every word that was exchanged.

"You know full fucking well if something you're doing is going to be delayed you tell me." She was leaning both hands on your desk and leaning over to get closer to you. With such a short distance between you you had no choice but to stare back into her forest green eyes, like hell you were going to look away and back down.

"You can write that fucking report anyway. I want it on my desk today." Today? There was no way you could get that done in office hours, you would have to be working long past when you were meant to usually go home. "And when the design has been fixed you can write another one on it." She was testing you, willing you to say something you would regret. You weren't going to fall into her trap.

"Okay." You said, holding her gaze.

She didn't say anything else. Natasha stood there for another few seconds to watch you, waiting for something, anything. Then she stood back up straight and headed towards the door that she slammed closed behind her and marched back to her own luxury office.

That could have been an email.

*

It was approaching midnight when you finished the report. You were about to email it to Natasha when you remembered she wanted it in paper form so you begrudgingly sent it off to the printer.

It was a waste of paper you thought as you trudged over to the elevator that quickly arrived as there was no one else in the building. You figured Natasha just wanted to be that extra bit difficult. Well, you knew that was what she was trying to do.

You had worked with Natasha for longer than most, you knew her. Or rather, you knew the front she painted. You knew what annoyed her, what she wanted, what she thought of certain people and you could predict how she would conduct business down to the exact price tag of a product. But you didn't know her personally, sometimes you wondered if there was anyone who did.

You knocked on your bosses door and waited until she called for you to come in. You planned to simply walk in, put the paper on her desk and walk out to go home but once you were several steps past the door Natasha called for you to close it.

She didn't look up at you as you trudged across the ridiculously big office and put the papers down. It was only when you turned around that she spoke again.

"Stay." Was all said. You bite back a comment about not being a dog.

You turned back around and expected some speech and your attitude earlier but continued making notes on a design plan like you weren't even in the room. A few minutes of you fidgeting on your feet and looking around the office for anything interesting, Natasha picked up your report and leaned back in her chair to read it. She showed no signs that you had done a good or bad job with the report.

Finally, she put the paper down on her desk and went back to the plans. "Close the door behind you." Was all she said. You clenched your jaw and rolled your eyes once turned around to finally leave and go home.

"Don't roll your eyes at me, y/n."

*

Turns out it wasn't as simple as writing two reports. Design after design failed. First there was a slight issue with the batteries, then the shape, then it somehow became a liability. You mentioned all these faults in your reports, as you legally had to, but it became tedious very quickly. You always hated paperwork. It was meant to be such a small part of your job. You could only hope the sudden increase was temporary, especially as it wasn't exactly one of your strengths.

You continued to work over time and met Natasha late at night, always having to wait until she finished reading till you could leave. You thought you had to be doing at least a good job with them for your boss to never say anything, because she was always ready to point out small errors. That was until one particular night.

"These reports are getting worse." Natasha scolded. The comment made your blood boil. They were certainly not getting worse, maybe the designs were but you knew it was no fault of yours.

"The designs don't work." You fired back and crossed your arms. You had been worked tirelessly on those reports and they only stated the facts.

"Do you even care about your job, y/n?" Natasha asked seriously, angering you more.

"I've sacrificed more than I ever thought I could for a job for this company."

"You're on thin fucking ice, l/n. With the way things are going I'd be in a right mind to fire you." ...what the fuck?!

"What?" It came out as more of a whisper. After everything that you had done for the company and the years you had spent there, Natasha wouldn't really fire you, would she?

"Unless you're willing to make up for it all." She said seriously with something unmistakably dark in her tone.

"I don't more extra hours than anyone here." You said, not knowing what else she could mean.

"Not more than me, something takes quite the toll. I can hardly fit the time in to distress anymore. That's where you come in." Natasha explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered around to the other side of the desk, the sound of her heels clicking echoing around the room.

There was a long moment of silence when Natasha left barely any space between you. You searched her eyes for any hint of what she was referring to but inevitably found nothing. Until she suddenly pushed you down onto your knees in front of her.

"Show me what other skills you have and maybe I'll consider letting you stay." She smirked down at you and ran the back of her hand across your cheek before cupping your jaw. "Entirely your call."

"Natasha this is crazy." You tried to reason but it was hard to ignore the faint throbbing you felt from being on your knees for her. "I could tell someone." For the first time ever, you heard her laugh. She threw her head back in a mocking laugh that soon turned into taunting chuckles.

"Y/n, who would believe you over me? You can be my guest and try but you'll never have another job in this city again, maybe further if I feel like it." She shrugged. You gulped and felt your breathing shake. Fuck.

Natasha, apparently impatient, hiked up her skirt and leant back against her desk to look at you expectantly. Your mouth suddenly went dry when you caught sight of her bare pussy, having not had any underwear on. You wondered if she often sat around like that. If she sauntered around the building and into your office where you could easily let your fingers wander up her skirt. Did she always leave them off for you?

"If you want to keep your job I suggest you get to work." She spoke. You tentatively moved forward and gripped onto her thighs for support, still looking up at her for any signs of a tell.

She was positively soaked. You could see her clenching in anticipation, the sight and musky smell entirely inviting. So you licked a long strip of the redhead's folds and moaned at the sweet taste of her. Sweetness was hardly what you expected given the tough and cold exterior of your boss, you hadn't expected it to be so instantly addictive either.

You pushed your tongue further inside the redhead who gave a breathy moan in response. At that, your mind was made. You sucked harshly on Natasha's clit and felt it pulse rapidly between your lips before returning your tongue to where she needed it most.

"Look at how much you're enjoying this." Natasha smirked as she looked down at the beyond contented glint in your eyes. "So good at pleasing you like mommy."

You worked your tongue tirelessly inside her, spurred on by the blissful sounds that fell from the redhead's mouth with every flick and curl of your muscle. You were lost in the incomparable taste of her and hoped it would be something that lingered on your tongue for a while. You were in awe of the way her mouth hung open in a silent scream as her eyes clenched shut every time your tongue brushed against some beautiful nerve ending. The sounds she made when you did so rivalled the faux sweetness of a siren's song. You knew the dangers of being lulled too far but you wanted to explore it entirely, convinced there was some hidden beauty that no one else could see.

"Fuck, so good." Your grip on Natasha's thigh tightened when her hold on the back of your neck did. She started to buck her hips against your mouth and her breathing patterns became more irregular. Your boss seemed lost in the pleasure she was experiencing from you as her eyes shut firmly and her movements became more erratic. But even then she held onto her power over you.

"I want you to swallow every last fucking drop." She ordered and gasped when your nose bumped against her clit. You picked up the pace of your tongue, making sure to swipe it against all the spots you had learnt made her shudder.

Her nails were practically digging into your neck when she reached her high. Her breath got caught in her throat before she gave the most animalistic moan you had ever heard. She furiously bucked her hips against your face as she rode out her high and relished in every wave of pleasure.

She recovered impressively quickly and was still raring to go, apparently having more plans for the night. She smiled down at you with a glint of the devil in her eye as she stood back and turned around to retrieve something from her desk, telling you to sit on her chair.

You were anticipating Natasha to return the favour, especially given how much she clearly enjoyed what you had to offer. Instead, she slipped a harness through your legs and pulled it up to your waist where she fastened it to sit securely. It was only when she moved away that you saw the size of the red toy, standing proudly and daringly. You wouldn't be surprised if your boss couldn't make it fit, yet again about to see that you really didn't know her. She was unpredictable and nothing short of it.

Natasha straddled your legs until her knees hit the backrest of her chair and her cunt was lined up with the toy. You went to hold her waist to guide her but your boss grabbed your wrists harshly and pinned them to the chair either side of you with a warning look.

She lowered herself onto the toy and groaned when the head of the toy alone started to stretch her. She kept her strong grip on your wrists as she looked more of the strap and you could only watch on in awe as the fake cock disappeared inside her.

Natasha moaned loudly and paused half way to adjust herself and breathe heavily before slamming herself down on the rest of the toy. "God." She grunted. "Mommy feels so full."

"Let me help you mommy." You tried but she shook her head.

"You don't get to touch right now." Was all she said before she lifted herself partly off the toy and slammed back down drawing another beautiful moan.

Your boss continued this for a while until she found herself in a rhythm that pleasured her deeply. You could see her juices smeering the toy everytime she withdrew and the sight alone made you groan, you already wanted to taste her again.

She rode you with vigor as her pace increased as did her grip on you. Profanities spilled from her mouth like a song that you wanted to join in with but you were too fixated on the sight infront of you. Natasha's bra clearly wasn't all that supportive because her breasts bounced with each thrust downwards and you wished more than anything that you could reach out and take her top and bra off to cup them, even tweak her nipples between your fingers to see her squeal.

"Gonna cum- fuck! Mommy's gonna cum on your cock and you're going to fill me up more." She said between moans and gasps. You didn't really understand what she meant by fill her up more but you weren't going to object, not when you wanted to see her cum again so badly.

She suddenly let your right hand go and grabbed on to the back of the harness. You were confused until you felt something click and Natasha was moaning louder than she had all night. "Your cum feels so good in me." She all but screamed before jerking her hips wildly and cumming around the toy.

She fell forwards slightly and grinded against the toy to ride out her high desperately. You gripped her hips with your free hand and moaned when you saw some of the cum leaking out of Natasha's pussy.

With a groan, you pulled your other hand out of the redhead's grasp and lifted her up and down onto her desk where she looked up at you with blissful eyes. "Don't go thinking you have any control." Natasha sneered but gasped when you withdrew the strap and snapped your hips forwards again.

"We'll see."

[whirlybirbs]

          (   this chapter’s gif by @august-walker​ from this beautiful set !   )

✪   —   VACANT MIRRORS  ;  B.B.  |  4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy! 

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MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

                                        ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh. 

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

                                       ◦   ◦   ◦   ◦   

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

[nobodyfamousposts]

My-Crack-Ulous: FOP Crossover

*Coughs* Ahem.

Fairly Odd Parents.

Oh, but not what you think! We’re not getting Cosmo and Wanda for a sad Marinette or Adrien. Oh, no...that would be easy.

No, no. Instead, we’re getting Norm the Genie.

Norm the Genie who wants to be free of his lamp but needs a magical stooge to trap in his place and, hey! Kwamis are magic, aren’t they? Not that he knows much about them since they predate the known universe and even Norm isn’t that old, but still!

So somehow Norm’s lamp ends up in Paris. And just happens to end up in Lila’s hands.

Lila, of course, tries to use it to her advantage.

It goes about as well as you should expect...

____________________

It took a few years before Norm’s lamp found itself back in the human world. And of course, it was only a matter of time before it ended up in someone’s hands.

Granted, he hadn’t expected to end up in Paris, France.

Or for his new beneficiary to wear an incredibly unfashionable jacket and have sausages in her hair.

Oh wait, that was her hair. As sausages. Gross.

“So you’re a genie?” She asked.

Norm had to avoid rolling his eyes.

Teenagers. They thought they were so special, so smart. That if something were to happen to them, that it was only for good and because they deserved it somehow. And for how smart they liked to think they were, none of them ever really questioned what the catch was. Or if their wishes were something they should make at all.

This one was no different.

“And you can grant me any wish?”

“Yep.”

“ANY wish?”

“I just said for the seventh time, yes. Any wish. Three of them. Rule-free.”

Not that she knew what Da Rules were, but meh. Details.

“Then I get sucked back into the lamp.”

Of course, he didn’t mention his propensity to twist the wishes for fun. Seriously, if these people were stupid enough to just take advantage of his powers without considering consequences. Or the complete lunacy of just expecting a magical creature to grant them whatever they wanted for no reason just because they ask for it.

Seriously, these chumps never learn.

Now all that remained was for this latest chump to start and he can begin his fun of finding the best ways to twist her wishes for entertainment…

Lila smirked.

“Well then…I wish for Ladybug to be beaten and forced to bow before me!”

Pause.

Norm raised an eyebrow.

“Wait—seriously?”

He shrugged.

“Okay.”

Suddenly, there was a POOF!

And when Lila blinked, there before her was the image of red with black spots.

Ladybug.

By which is meant the lowercase insect “ladybug” kind instead of the uppercase superhero “Ladybug” kind, much to Lila’s disappointment.

As if to further insult her, the bug proceeded to point in her direction, in a facsimile of a bow.

Lila stared.

Norm sighed.

“Ya know, kid, normally people don’t make it this easy. I barely even had to do anything. I feel kind of cheated.”

“WHAT IS THIS?!” Lila demanded, gesturing to the insect.

“It’s your wish. Duh. I mean, I knew people made stupid first wishes but...wow. This is actually worse than the sandwich.”

She wasn't even going to ask.

“My wish was about Ladybug! Not just a normal ladybug! I’m talking about the superhero, Ladybug!”

Norm shrugged. “Well you should have been more specific.”

She practically growled. “Who else would I be talking about?!”

Norm, for his part, was less than impressed.

“I’ve been in a lamp. How should I know?”

Lila huffed before storming over to her computer and turning it to face Norm, showing a picture of a heroine in a red leotard with black spots in mid-swing between buildings.

“THIS is Ladybug. A magical do-gooder who protects the city from Hawk Moth. I want to see her destroyed. Brought low in every way that matters and forced to beg me for mercy.”

“I see.” Norm said, not really getting it at all.

Kids these days, was he right?

“So grant my wish.” She demanded. “I wish for Ladybug, the superhero, to be beaten and kneeling before me.”

Upping it, wasn’t she?

He shrugged. “Fine.”

POOF!

Some distance away, in the middle of an akuma fight, an injured Ladybug was sent flying back into a delivery van full of discarded papers to be shredded for recycling, scattering the papers around her. Winded, she fell into a kneeling position. It just so happened that one of the many papers that on the ground right in front of her was a poster of Lila from one of her photo shoots with Adrien.

Ladybug took no notice of this, being much more concerned with the akuma attack. She quickly pushed herself up and leapt back into the fray.

Lila and Norm watched this on a television from the safety of her apartment some distance away.

“What the hell was that?!” Lila demanded, spinning on Norm.

“Your wish.” He answered bluntly. “She’s beaten. She kneeled.”

“But not to me!”

“Technically, she did.” He corrected her, gesturing to the TV where the now rumpled and sad-looking poster of her image rested where Ladybug had once been. It seemed the hero had even stepped on it once as she took off. Norm bit down the smirk at the unintended irony.

Lila glared at him.

Then she seemed to realize something as she suddenly gained a thoughtful look.

“Can I wish for more wishes?”

Oh, NOW she starts asking smart questions.

Norm stared at her, considering.

He should lie.

He really should lie and say she couldn’t.

From what he’s seen of her so far, this girl seemed a few wires short of a Crock-pot, and speaking of, he was starting to get some flashbacks. His previous time working with Crocker reminded him full well why it was a bad idea to let the humans know they could wish for additional wishes. Plus this girl was already giving him the feeling that the sooner he was away from her, the better.

…but he had spent years as a urinal cake and given what Lila had told him about magical-based superheroes, well, how could he turn away from an opportunity?

“Sure.” He finally answered, much to Lila’s glee.

“Then I wish for three more wishes!” She exclaimed. “And for my first wish, I wish that Ladybug—the superhero Ladybug whom you just saw would be forced to kneel before myself—the me that is right here before you.”

Lila smirked, figuring that it was specific enough that there was no way this could be turned against her.

How little she knew.

The POOF of Norm’s magic was immediately drowned out by complete chaos as something came crashing through the wall and into Lila’s bedroom.

Lila screamed as she was blown back, and covered her face in a limited ability to protect herself from further onslaught.

Coughing could be heard, but it wasn’t just Lila. She dared to peek through her hands and…

Of all people, it was Ladybug crouched on the floor of her room, coughing and waving away the dust and debris.

And sure enough, her position of trying to regain her bearings had her turned in Lila’s directions, head bowed and on her knees. Just as Lila had asked for.

But not in the way she had wanted.

Norm had conveniently vanished from sight, so there was no one else for Ladybug to see besides Lila. Realizing where she was and who she was in front of, Ladybug couldn’t hide her initial scowl before she was able to mask the expression and focus in on the task at hand.

“My apologies, civilian.” She bit out. “Akuma attack. Just stay here and stay safe for now. This won’t take much longer.”

And without another word, she shakily got to her feet and turned back to the attack.

Given Ladybug’s state, Lila could have been in a perfect position to try to interfere. Grab her. Maybe even get her earrings.

But the crash had sent Lila herself falling back, and she was even more unsteady than Ladybug.

She tried to push herself up, but realized that in the chaos, some debris had landed on her leg, preventing her from moving.

Of all the rotten luck!

Ladybug left without further ado and Lila was stuck in her room with a hole in her wall and no way to move from her spot on the floor.

Conveniently, Norm reappeared once she was alone.

“Soooo…just a suggestion, kid, but maybe you should try wishing for something else. Something that doesn’t involve superhero ladybugs.”

“Shut up.” She groused as she struggled to push the broken bits of her desk off her leg and grunting in pain.

Norm, of course, did not shut up.

“I take it you want to use your second wish to restore your room? And your third to wish for more wishes?” He asked, but it was clear he wasn’t actually asking.

“Yes!”

The sooner the better.

With another POOF, her room was restored and her leg, while still injured, was no longer pinned. Cautiously, she rose to her feet, hanging onto her bed for stability.

As if to further mock her, it seemed that Ladybug had successfully defeated the akuma as the Miraculous Cure swept through the area, restoring everything else.

Norm blinked in surprise.

“Huh. Didn’t know that could happen. Well, that was a waste of a wish, huh?”

Lila twitched.

__________________

“Okay. Okay.”

She had thought about this long and hard.

Much to her frustration, it seemed wishing anything against Ladybug directly was doomed to failure. Lila attributed it to Ladybug’s magic and natural luck. There could be no other reason for it. Lila’s phrasing and intentions had been fool-proof.

Norm’s smirks and passive aggressive comments didn’t mean a thing.

As such, Lila reluctantly turned her focus away from her arch nemesis to the more civilian side of things and decided to target someone who had no such protection.

The only one to figure out she was a liar: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

She didn’t know how the other girl knew so quickly. Or what led her to the truth.

And Lila didn’t particularly care.

Marinette was just another thorn in her side. Not nearly as irritating as Ladybug, but still enough to want her gone. And since Lila had a genie and three more wishes to use to her advantage, it seemed Marinette would serve as the perfect way to test it.

And so, Lila made the first of her next three wishes.

“I wish that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was forced to leave Francois Dupont.”

A bit on the extreme side, admittedly. If she was being honest, Lila would have preferred to keep Marinette around and wish her to be miserable in some other way instead. But she had the power of a genie at her command and given Marinette’s annoyingly clever and intrusive nature, it would likely only be a matter of time before she caught on to Lila’s new advantage and tried something to relieve her of it.

So the brat had to go.

And oh, what a wonderful scene it was when two serious and official looking men stepped into the classroom to ask for Marinette to go with them to the Principal’s office. The goody-goody left the room looking scared. Everyone whispered and looked to each other in confusion, questioning why and what happened. Who were those men and what could they want with Marinette?

Lila practically felt downright giddy at the sight! She couldn’t wait to see the other girl in tears!

It was almost two hours later when Marinette was brought back to the room by Principal Damocles. Both looked pale and fatigued. But Marinette in particular looked almost tearful.

“Pardon us, Ms. Bustier, but Marinette is just here to gather her things.”

Lila had to hold herself back from grinning and instead put on a fake look of concern.

“Oh no! Marinette, are you all right?”

"Girl, what happened?" Alya asked, worriedly.

“What did those guys want?” Adrien questioned in concern.

Marinette shook her head. "I'm being transferred.”

Here, Lila did smirk even as everyone else around her gasped in dismay.

Damocles patted Marinette’s shoulder, his fatigue giving way to cheer. “Those gentlemen were representatives of one of the most highly acclaimed private art schools in Paris, and they came to interview Marinette for a place in their program!”

"WHAT?!"

Any smirk Lila did show immediately dropped.

“They saw my hat at the fashion show and other designs from my website, and once they heard that I was complimented by Audrey Bourgeois, they decided to offer me a scholarship to come to their school." Marinette explained, looking a mix of excited and anxious.

“That’s wonderful!”

“You deserve it, Marinette!”

“That’s right! It’s a great honor!” Damocles continued. “Of course, they were rather insistent about arranging the transfer, but it’s early enough in the school year and—”

Lila didn’t pay any attention to anything further of Damocles’s prattling and barely even noticed the way everyone else in the classroom cheered and showered Marinette in congratulations and praise.

Nobody paid much attention to Lila for the rest of the school day. Which was just as well, as it allowed her to skip out and storm back home.

Where she found Norm. Sunbathing on her balcony. And messing with her laptop.

He only noticed she was there when she slammed the door open.

“What?” He snarked. “Not what you wanted?”

“Undo it. NOW.”

“You sure?” He asked. “I mean, she’ll still be gone. There’ll be no one to call out your depressingly obvious lies. And with her not being around as much, your little followers are bound to lose touch with her over time and be all yours to screw with.”

“The point is for her to be miserable! UNDO IT!”

The next day, it was with some disappointment as Marinette informed her classmates that while the school had wanted her, the school only had limited slots and apparently the men who came to interview her hadn't been aware the vacancy had already been filled.

"It was still a bit too early for me to start there anyway." Marinette added. "I double checked, and they're a fully fledged lycee. They were apparently figuring I could skip ahead a grade and start there sooner."

"Weird."

"But impressive!"

"Yeah, you totally deserve it, dudette!"

"You'll just have to try for next year." Alya said, moving to wrap an arm around Marinette’s shoulder. “But I’m glad you’ll be with us for a while longer.”

Marinette smiled back, happy and relieved. “Yeah!”

Lila glared at the happy group from around a corner.

So this fell through. But next time would work.

She was smarter than some shut-in genie. She was bound to find a way to make a wish that would give her exactly what she wanted.

And when she did…

Lila smirked.

Ladybug would be as good as gone.

[because-of-a-friend]

Seventeen Reaction: You Pamper Them in Their Sleep

MASTERLIST

Alrighty! Time to start burning through these requests!!! Hope you like this one anon, thanks for the request, it’s super cute!!!!

(Gifs aren’t mine, if you like them please go give love to their original posters and do not repost them without crediting their creators)

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

He hadn’t slept enough the past few days. Work had been overbearing, leaving him little time to do much to care for his own health. When he realized his current projects were done, he didn’t even try to do anything else. Seungcheol simply walked through the front door, went straight to the couch, and crashed down onto it immediately. His thoughts were driving him insane, obnoxiously loud even into his first moments of freedom, leaving him unable to fall asleep quickly. His descent into rest was a slow one, meaning he was still half awake when you got home. You were sort of relieved to see him crashed on the couch, happy he was getting any sort of rest. Not realizing he was still somewhat conscious, you immediately moved to make him more comfortable. Seungcheol felt the weight of the blanket you laid over his shoulders. His chest had already filled with warmth from your gesture, when he felt your touch again, moving his head on top of a pillow into a more comfortable position. If he had more energy, he probably would have screamed about how cute you were. He settled for simply mumbling out “I love you” as you pressed a kiss to his forehead, brushing his hair back in a gentle way. Suddenly, with you there, he felt relaxation take over him completely. Sleep was no longer so hard to reach.

YOON JEONGHAN

“Hannie, honey, that’s like the fifth time in a row that you’ve yawned, please go and get some sleep,” you were touched, truly, that your boyfriend wanted to spend time with you so badly, but you preferred for him to not deprive himself of sleep to do it. “I’m fine, I promise, I told you I’d go take a nap at two.” You glanced at the clock after his remark, noticing two o’clock was still over forty-five minutes away. “Why don’t you take a nap now, then we can hang out later instead.” But Jeonghan brushed off your arguments one by one, insisting he wanted to keep you company while you worked on your paper. “Here, I’ll just rest my eyes,” suddenly his head was in your lap, “I won’t nap, but I’ll do this until you’re done so you can’t argue with me about napping.” You rolled your eyes but accepted it as a victory, surely with his eyes closed, laying down in your lap, he’d fall asleep whether he meant to or not. You took your assumption as fact, thinking that when his body relaxed and breathing evened, it meant he really was asleep. You found your fingers drawn to his hair. Soon you were raking them through the soft locks over and over in a methodical way. Jeonghan wanted to make a joke about him not actually being asleep so desperately. Mostly, because he was hoping to stop you from noticing the blush rising up his neck and into his face as warmth filled his body from your care. But as soon as you started humming softly, every thought he had to ruin this moment disappeared. Maybe taking a nap now wasn’t such a bad idea... 

JOSHUA HONG

(There’s a reason he was my first bias, he is the most beautiful boy ever)

You and Joshua have set rules for your bouts of insomnia. You feel bad that it keeps him up, especially when he’s so busy and doesn’t get enough sleep anyways. Whenever you wake up, he’s not allowed to get up and try to help you unless you specifically ask him. You’ve learned how to handle it well enough that you have different methods you can use that will usually help you back to sleep anyways. There’s no reason for him to waste sleep too whenever it’s fixable on your own, so you make him promise to just go back asleep if you wake him up on accident. You know he’s there to help if you end up needing it, he makes a point of letting you know quite often. You have, on a handful of occasions, taken him up on that offer when you really needed it, but mostly you’re capable of handling it on your own. Which is why Joshua is incredibly alarmed when he wakes up again to your movements and finally clears the fog from his mind enough to realize the clock reads 3:53 AM, meaning that you have been awake for a much longer time span than usual. He gives himself a moment to clear the sleep from his brain a little more, contemplating if he should finally speak up and ask if you need help. But then he feels it. You’re holding his hand. Your thumb rubbing up and down his skin ever so slowly. And you’re talking. It’s so quiet he can really only make out a couple of words here and there. He shifts a little, causing you to pause. He can feel your weight shift, then suddenly the comforter is being pulled higher up his shoulders and there’s nothing he can do to stop the grin that forcefully overtakes his face. He decides to finally just turn and face you. “Did I wake you?” you ask. He shakes his head slowly, reveling in the feeling of your hand now caressing the skin of his cheek, “I was awake for a minute. Were you talking to me, love?” You try to not let your embarrassment show, “Oh, sometimes it helps me get back to sleep.” You think you might melt from the loving stare Joshua holds on you from his position laying below you. Finally he sits up and wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to lean against him. “Let’s see if it helps for me to talk back,” he suggests pressing a long kiss to your temple. 

WEN JUNHUI

(I promise one day I will use a different gif of him, I just literally can’t handle how cute this one is)

He doesn’t do it on purpose... Ok, maybe he does do it on purpose. It happened a couple of times in a row where he was dozing off around the apartment, and you had taken care of him thinking he was fully asleep. Now it’s sort of a habit for him to lay around when he’s tired and he knows you’re coming by. It just makes it so much easier for him to fall into actual sleep and get in a good nap. He absolutely lives for the feeling of your gentle touches as you wrap him up in a blanket, check to see if his head is in an ok position, and move his hair away from his eyes. He also loves when you sit with him after. He just likes being in your presence. If he’s desperate enough to keep you around, he’ll let the “I’m definitely fully and 100% asleep” façade fall away so he can grab your arm and pull you closer to him. He’s fine with you simply sitting with him until he actually falls asleep, but every time he’s secretly hoping you’ll do that thing where you let your fingers dance around his hairline as you whisper sweetly to him. It’s the only way he can get a good nap now.

KWON SOONYOUNG

This moment does not actually last that long. He can’t help from physically and vocally reacting when this happens. As soon as he feels you start to do anything to take care of him while he’s sleeping, he’s going to start giggling and kicking his feet. “Baby, were you taking care of me???” he’s up in a second, pinching your cheeks and telling you how sweet you are to him. I hope you were in the mood to take a nap, because next thing you know, he’s pulling you down to lay with him. He has an iron grip around you as he presses little kisses across the top of your face and head. You two will talk to each other in hushed voices about your day and just hold each other until you both actually begin to fall asleep.

JEON WONWOO

This baby had no idea how much he would like this. There were plenty of casual couple-y things that he wasn’t super into. Most of his romance languages were a bit different than what’s usually expected. So having you come and cover him with a blanket and coddle him when you thought he was sleeping was something he didn’t think he’d really care that much for. But boy was he wrong. He didn’t realize how full his heart would feel when you began to take care of him, but it made him feel so special and loved. Honestly, he tears up a little when he feels you rub his shoulders after pulling a blanket over them. He has to clench his fists to stop from reacting when you when pull his hair back to leave a kiss on his forehead, and make a couple of comments about how he’s overworking himself and needs to get more rest. After feeling satisfied that he’s comfortable, you stand up to go get other stuff done. But immediately after you stand, a noise of protest leaves Wonwoo’s mouth, prompting you to stay and look after him for awhile. 

LEE JIHOON

The sight of Jihoon slumped over his desk, asleep in front of his computer is not an uncommon one for you to walk in on whenever you visit his studio. You go into autopilot mode almost immediately upon seeing him with his face on the keyboard. Your movements are practiced and familiar as you rub his shoulders and massage his scalp to get him to sit up. Once he does, you move to save all of the programs he has open and put the computer in sleep mode like you know he prefers you to. Afterwards, you force him to move to the couch so he can lay down. “Do you want to go home instead?” you ask, hoping he’ll agree to get some real rest. “No, I still have tons to do, I just need to take a quick nap and then get back to work.” You don’t like his answer, but don’t push him to change his mind. “Do you want me to order food for when you wake up?” you offer. “No it’s fine, I already ate. You can order yourself something on me if you want.” You nod as you help him down onto the couch, glancing to find where his wallet is in case you actually do get hungry. But first you sit next to the couch next to where his face is. His eyes are already starting to close once again. You’re wondering if you should just leave him alone and wake him when you know he’ll want to start working again. But Jihoon quietly holds a hand out for you take in his own, a signal that he wants you near him. He’d never admit it, but he really depends on you taking care of him at moments like this, he feels so safe knowing you’re there at his most vulnerable. 

LEE SEOKMIN

If he’s still awake enough, he will start laughing immediately. Sometimes he still gets nervous during more intimate moments, so when you’re sitting there with your hands all over him as you try to help him get more comfortable, he’ll start laughing to deflect. Sometimes he’ll make a joke in that fake deep voice and suddenly widen his eyes and look at you funny so that both of you are laughing. If he’s tired enough and almost halfway asleep, though, he becomes so dependent on you. He’ll pull you closer and whine anytime you try to leave. When he’s this close to sleep, he’ll be so much more open and vulnerable and completely shameless when it comes to asking you to take care of him. He’ll grab your hand and put it in his hair, or signal for a blanket, or open his eyes enough to silently beg you to come coddle him. A giant baby when he’s sleepy, really. 

KIM MINGYU

He wants to drown in the feeling he gets when you massage his scalp. He had been half asleep in bed when you came home late. It had always been a little bit harder for him to fall asleep without you which is why he hadn’t fully fallen by the time you had gotten back. He woke up a little more when he heard you moving around, getting ready for bed. Then the bed dipped as you climbed in next to him. He could tell you were sitting up, probably planning on scrolling through your phone for a bit before actually going to bed. Then he felt your hand as it made its way into his hair, pulling softly at the locks and rubbing your fingers firmly into his scalp. He never wants it to end, but the smirk climbing across his face gives him away. “You awake MinMin?” your voice sounds out. He only gives back a hum, before clambering closer to you and shoving his head halfway into your lap. You can’t help but laugh a little before pressing a little peck to the top of his head and then letting your hand take over again. Mingyu feels so safe and content in this moment. He lets his own arms wrap around whatever part of you they can find, praying that he never has to leave this moment.

XU MYUNGHO

Literally JUMPS fully awake. He had been half asleep when he felt your hands moving his head to rest on a pillow. As soon as he feels you touching him, though, he is fully up and awake. “What are you doing????” he asks, startled. “Trying to make sure you didn’t hurt your neck...” you stare at him confused. “Oh, sorry, you scared me,” he starts laughing a little. You take a mental note to never do anything like that again. Honestly he does like you pampering him a lot, but he just prefers to know it’s happening first. If he does want you to take care of him when he’s tired, he’ll cuddle up next to you and press little kisses up the side of your face and neck as a signal that he wants affection. You know when he gets like this to let him lay down in your lap and pamper him as much as he wants until he falls asleep.

BOO SEUNGKWAN

Like Soonyoung, he literally can’t handle this. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment but he oh my god he has to tell you how much he loves you as soon as you cover him with a blanket. “[Y/N]!!!! You’re so cute, I can’t believe my sweet baby was trying to take care of me!!!!” You’ll find very suddenly that the roles will be reversed. He lays you down next to him and begins to pamper you all over. You’ll feel his lips all over your face and his arms tighten around your waist. “Seungkwan wait,” you say laughing, “I was supposed to take care of you!!!” He’ll dramatically huff and lay back down, and spread his arms out, “Ok fine, take care of me.” You’ll slow the pace by cuddling up next to him and getting him to start rambling about his day as you continually move his hair out of his eyes and massage up and down his arms. His body relaxes overtime and eventually he can barely get the words out. Finally he just wraps himself around you and sighs into your neck as he lets sleep overtake him.

VERNON CHWE

When Vernon, in his half asleep state, feels fingers running through his hair, he sits up a bit to see what’s going on. When he realizes it’s just you, he sort of nods his head and gestures for you to keep going as he lays back down. You can’t help but laugh out loud at his reaction and how he acts when he’s not fully conscious. He really doesn’t think much of you doing it. He’s not the type to want you to do this super bad, except for maybe some occasions when he’s in need of comfort or something. He definitely notices that it’ll relax him more to have you taking care of him as he’s asleep/falling asleep/just laying around, so he appreciates it, but doesn’t necessarily need it.

LEE CHAN

He begins to wonder if he should signal to you that he’s awake, ask about your day, see what you want to do for dinner... But the moment you start lightly massaging his tense shoulders, he decides otherwise. He hadn’t even realized how much stress he had let build up until he feels it seeping out as you make sure he’s comfortable, grab his favorite blanket, lightly brush his hair back, and whisper that you love him. He easily slips into the deepest and most relaxing nap he’s ever experienced. When he wakes he smells food from one of y’all’s favorite restaurants. He steps into the kitchen to find you setting up plates for your meal. He grabs you and holds you tight. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he whispers in your ear. “All I did was order dinner,” you say, confused. “No, no, I mean that you take care of me,” he says, smiling at you fondly. 

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[canesshi]

the bounty | western au

pairing: outlaw!Jungkook x bountyhunter!reader (f)

genre: angst, smut, enemies to ???

plot: There's a fivethousand dollar bounty on Jeon Jungkook's head and you are after it. A few unplanned events lead to the two of you trapped in a canyon and you learn that maybe, after all, he isn't as bad as he seems.

warnings: swearing, guns, blood, fighting, alcohol, SMUT, unprotected sex (because this is fiction! be safe irl), grinding, passionate sex, handjob, creampie, mentioned sexism, lmk if there is more

Standing in front of the wooden board, you ripped the piece of paper off the rusty nail that had been used to attach it to the wood. 'Wanted - dead or alive' it said in red stamped letters, the text framing the sketch of Jeon Jungkook's face.

"You finally wanna try again?"

Your gaze shot up to Jin, the sheriff, who leaned against the wooden wall of his sheriff's office. The golden star on his chest was as shiny as it could be; he cleaned it regularly, it was never dirty.

"They put a new price on his head, after all. Might as well try again. Fivethousand dollars are enough to retire.", you chuckled and looked back to the paper in your hands.

Jeon Jungkook.

The name was not unfamiliar. His face was plastered on every wall even in small towns, the law desperate to finally catch him. He was one of America's most wanted outlaws and since he had left his former gang he raged through the country like a hurricane; stealing, drinking, fighting, shooting, cheating, murdering, robbing. He had steadily increased the price on his head with every crime he commited and every bounty hunter had at one point been after him. The money was promising and experienced bounty hunters tended to underestimate his skills because of his age. He was fairly young for being such a successful outlaw, all on his own. Along with a few other criminals he was considered a 'legendary bounty'. Bounty hunters who could turn in such a bounty were well respected and feared amongst their peers, and the reward money was a nice addition. But Jeon Jungkook outsmarted and outshot all of them. Most of the hunters were dead or had given up.

You were after him once, too. It was when he was still with his old gang. They had been in a gang fight with another gang and were vunerable, the timing was perfect. But as you almost had him, he slipped through your fingers, jumping off the bridge and landing in the shallow waters. You had thought he had died but never found his corpse, only to read in a newspaper a few days later that he and his gang had robbed a stagecoach near a big city. Since then, his bounty had more than tripled. And if you were being honest, you were quite impressed. But now that you had had time to prepare and train, you were convinced you had a chance at catching him. Maybe you were being too optimistic and too full of yourself, but how would you ever find out if you didn't try?

"Are you sure it's a good idea? He does not hesitate to kill bounty hunters and he surely learned a few new things too. That kid is too skilled for his own good.", Jin wore a worried expression. The two of you had become something similar to friends over the past months since you usually collected the bounties in this tiny town because there was less competition this far away from the big city. "At least catch all the easier targets first so you are not leaving us behind with a bunch of criminals roaming the streets."

"Jin, you're the sheriff. You can handle an outlaw or two."

"But you do it so well. Also, who would we spend the tax money on? If there was no bounty money to pay, we would surely be rich in a few months, we can't have that!", he joked, fake worry in his voice. Then, he got serious again, stepping closer to you, taking the poster from your hands and inspecting it. "Be careful. I mean it. He is dangerous and I would feel lonely here without you bringing trouble into this small town."

"I'll be back, don't worry.", you nodded at him, smiling reassuringly but he didn't seem convinced.

"When will you leave? Where is he right now?"

"I'll pack my things and be off. There has been news he was sighted near Blackwater last. I'll be starting my search there.", you untied your horse from the post, stuffing the poster Jin had given you back into your bag. You mounted the animal, tipped your hat to Jin who smiled at you worriedly but nodded back and urged the animal under you forwards.

The ride to Blackwater had taken one and a half days. You had made camp outside of Armadillo to rest before you began your hunt. You needed all the energy you could possibly get, so a good night's rest was indispencable.

You woke up early, the sun had barely risen above the horizon. The weak sun warmed your chilled skin as you kicked dirt into the still glowing embers of your dying campfire. The air was fresh and you felt confident; you'd find him today and he wouldn't glide through your fingers again.

Spurring your horse on, you watched as the city in the distance grew closer with each stride your horse took. You slowed the animal down once you reached the cobbled street, looking into the dark alleyways, suspicious looking individuals meeting your gaze and snarling. They recognized bounty hunters when they saw them. But you were not here because of them. No, you were after someone way more valuable.

Stopping next to the sheriffs office, you tied your horse to the post outside and stepped into the office, your spurs clinking with every step. You halted in front of the main desk, the sheriff and his deputy looking you up and down.

"I'm after Jeon Jungkook.", you said, slapping his bounty poster onto the table. "I was told he was seen here recently, any idea where he was headed?"

The sheriff and deputy sent each other a look before the older gentleman breathed in deeply. "It is true. He was here recently, caused a bar fight and left once everyone was fighting, then, robbed the general store while everyone was occupied. Shot a few fellars on his way out of town." The sheriff took the paper, looked at Jungkook's picture before scoffing and letting the piece of paper fall back onto the table. "No offence, but you won't be able to turn him in. The best bounty hunters have been after him and ended up dying or giving up. I don't mean any harm when I say this but... maybe you bit off more than you can chew. He's not your everyday thief." You wanted to scoff and list all the outlaws you had turned in before but you knew better than to let yourself be agigated by his words.

"Whether or not I can handle him is my business. You want him caught or not? I just need all the information you got, the rest is not your problem.", you said calmy, one hand resting on your hip.

The sheriff hesitated for a bit before opening one of the drawers in the desk and pulling out a map. He flattened it out on the table and turned it so you could see well.

"We think he headed south into the canyons to lay low for a while. There have been no reports of him in other cities so he probably is still there. He might not be alone, we don't know for sure. Riding out there is a ticket straight to hell, ma'am."

You didn't wait for him to finish. You just tipped your head as a way of thanking him before turning your back and exiting the building. Not a minute longer was wasted in the town. You urged your horse to a gallop down the dusty road.

It was noon when you reached the canyons. The sun was beating down onto you and you were thankful for your hat that was providing enough shadow for your face to be safe from the scorching sunlight.

You stopped your horse on a ledge that hung over the valley of the canyons. Then in the distance you spotted a trail of smoke rising into the sky. A camp.

You shouldered your rifle before urging your horse on. The walls of the canyon were so high they were intimidating. The trails you rode through were narrow and once or twice your stirrup scraped against the dusty orange stone. You couldn't see much of the sky, so you weren't sure if you were even riding in the right direction.

You were as quiet as you possibly could, but each little clinking or thudding echoed through the canyon. You decided that it was best to leave your horse behind and continue on foot. It was quieter and you could escape more easily if you had to.

You dismounted on a wider spot, the stone walls further away from you and making you feel less claustophobic. You grabbed a few more bullets from your saddlebag along with your bag in case you needed water or were injured.

Patting your horse's neck one last time and hoping you would be able to return to it, you continued through the canyon, your steps still echoing but a lot quieter than your horse's hooves had been.

When you smelled burnt wood you stuck close to the stone walls, making sure to peek before charging the open area. You peeked into the camp but there was no sign of a human being. You carefully walked into the camp, watching as the fire was still burning. Someone had been here not too long ago. You looked around and noticed bags and a bedroll on the ground. Someone had definitely been here shortly before you, and they would probably be returning soon. You kneeled down to open one of the bags when suddenly a gunshot rang through the canyon, the bullet missing you by an inch.

You immediately sprung into action, ducking behind a wooden crate and firing a few shots into the direction the bullet had come from. It had been a revolver bullet so the attacker was close to you, had probably sneaked up behind you.

It was silent for a while before a bullet hit the crate, sending splinters flying. Shit, you needed a safer cover. But there was nothing here. The attacker was just waiting for you to move, you knew it. You needed a plan.

You pulled your waterskin from your bag and opened it up. If you could throw it into the fire, there would be enough steam for you to move to a safer position, right? You peeked around the crate and immideately a bullet hit the edge of the crate, close to your face.

Shit, if you moved your arm from the cover they would probably shoot it clean off. You were trapped and if your attacker decided he had waited long enough, he could just start blasting the crate to kill you. You looked through your bag only finding a few things that didn't help you out now. Unless...

You fished for the red neckerchief and threw it next to the crate, careful to not reveal your hands or arms. Instantly a few shots were fired, hitting the neckerchief until it was in shreds. That's when you heard the familiar click of a gun being reloaded. You didn't waste a second and threw the waterskin into the flames, successfully creating thick puffs of steam that blocked your attacker's view.

You quickly moved into a crevice in the stonewall, barely wide enough to fit your body but at least safer than the wooden crate. Bullets were fired at you, but you had been faster, and they had no clear view. Once the steam disappeared, you watched carefully. The attacker didn't know where you were, and you watched as the broad figure move from behind the canyon wall to a boulder a little closer to you. You acted instantly, shooting a few bullets with your revolver, even though your heart skipped a beat. You had only seen him shortly but you knew his figure.

You had found him. Jeon Jungkook.

You heard a low hiss so you must've gotten him somewhere. You wanted to squeal in victory when he propped himself up on the boulder and fired a few rounds of bullets. The stone wall held off each bullet but little pieces of stone splintered off the surface and created thick dust which stung in your eyes. But instead of cowering away you took the rifle from your back, aimed at the figures head and placed your hand on the trigger. He wasn't careful enough. You could kill him right then and there, but your ego got the better of you. If you'd bring him in alive, he would be worth a lot more and you wanted to see the look of defeat on his face when you bound his wrists and turned him into the sheriff's office as they placed him behind bars.

So instead of his head you aimed at his gun and pulled the trigger, successfully blasting it out of his hand. He ducked as soon as the shot was fired but he wasn't fast enough. It was silent after that, no shots from him as you waited for his next move.

"That's it. You've got me."

You perked up at his smooth voice. He sounded like he was amused.

"You can kill me.", he said, slowly raising from behind the boulder. His hands were in the air to show you he was unarmed.

"But you'd miss out on a lot of money. They want to see me hang, they'd pay a lot to see that. If I'm dead though... there won't be much of a hanging going on. They will be disappointed. Less money."

"You think I'm stupid enough to fall for your trap, Jeon?", you hissed, rifle trained on his head, ready to shoot if you needed to. You moved away from your cover slowly, showing him you had the upper hand now.

"Well, seeing how you only shot my gun and not my head, I assume you are either a terrible, terrible shot or you are after a great deal of money.", he wore a smug smile on his face but you didn't miss the droplets of sweat dripping down the side of his forehead. That's when you saw the trail of blood on his side. That's where you had gotten him earlier, you thought to yourself.

"But since I know you can shoot well, I know it's the latter. Last time we met, you almost had me, and now you finally finished what you started."

You felt uneasy. He remembered you? How in the hell, would he remember you when he had to deal with countless of bounty hunters almost every day? What made you special enough for him to remember?

Maybe this was a trick, you thought. He was riling you up on purpose.

You had only been distracted for half a second when suddenly you were hit in the head by a hard item. You stumbled back, the rifle falling from your hands as you clutches your now bleeding forehead.

That fucker had thrown his gun!

He charged at you while you were occupied and pressed you to the ground beneath him. He pulled a knife out of his boot and moved to plunge it into your chest but you kneed him into his back, making him topple over you so you could roll out beneath him, an elbow to his back. He grunted as he spun around, slicing the knife through the air, missing your arm by an inch.

"You have gotten better.", he snickered through gritted teeth.

"So have you.", you answered, grabbing a hand full of dust and throwing it into his face. He clawed at his eyes as you finally distanced yourself from him again. You grabbed your revolver from your gunbelt and pointed it at him, ready to shoot when he suddenly pulled on the neckerchief you were standing on, making you topple over as your feet lost their footing. Before he could reach you though, you were back on your feet, your gun nowhere to be found. Shit.

A cut into your arm made you cry out sharply. The cut wasn't too deep but it began bleeding quickly. "You son of a bitch!"

You grabbed his wrist before he could bring down the blade again. Your nails dug into his dirtied skin, making him grit his teeth. He was stronger than you, but you took advantage of the situation when you kneed him into the stomach. He huffed loudly and the knife fell from his hand. You caught it and chucked it far away. "You have a lot of nerves coming here!", he sneered and grabbed your neck, pushing you down. You moved your head quickly, biting down on his bleeding hand, tasting the iron on your tongue.

That's when you decided to take off. If you made it to your horse in time, you could get another gun or flee. But you were so disoriented, you didn't know which way you had come from. Jungkook recovered behind you, so you decided to just run, no matter what direction.

You ran as fast as you could but your could hear his fast footsteps behind you, catching up with you.

You scrambled up a canyon wall that had been carved into a stair-like formation by the waters a few million years ago. Jungkook followed you without a problem. His stamina was way better than yours.

Once you were on top of the stone platform and you could overlook the maze like crevices, Jungkook caught up to you.

The two of you were standing in front of each other. Chests heaving.

"This ends here. One of us is going to die. And if I think about it, It might as well be you."

He lurched forward grabbing your body and pressing you into the ground. He raised a fist, wanting to knock you out but you moved your head to the side, his fist meeting the stone beneath you. You tried pushing him off of you and ended up changing positions with him, straddling him, before he tried pushing you down again.

But as he grabbed your hips, pushing you off of his stomach, your back didn't meet the hard ground. It was met with breezy nothingness as your body slipped off the edge. His body was inevitable pulled down with yours, your hands clamped down on his shirt. Your mouth was open in a scream as you fell but no noises came out.

It felt like you were falling for hours, hands still clinging onto Jungkook's larger frame.

Hitting the ground was painless and everything went black not even a second later.

Your eyes peeled open slowly. There was dust, dried blood, sweat and tears. You could barely see.

Your nose was running and you didn't kow if it was tears or blood.

How in god's name were you alive? Were you even alive?

You carefully moved your arms under you, pushing yourself up from the ground. Your head was throbbing painfully and little stones dug into your palms as you looked around.

Jungkook's body laid a few feet away, head slumped against his chest as he sat up against the canyon wall. He had probably woken up and moved to sit up against it before falling unconscious again.

You groaned as you pushed yourself to your feet, moving over to his body. You gently pushed against his legs with your boot, trying to wake him... or check if he was still alive. He looked horrible. Clothes ragged and dusty all over. His once jet black hair was matted and coated with brownish dust. You probably didn't look any better.

You kicked him again, a little harsher this time and a low groan escaped his throat as he lifted his head slightly. He struggled to open his eyes, the sun blinding him as he looked up at you.

"I was hoping you had died.", he rasped.

"Well, it seems like we're both still alive."

"Not for much longer.", he scoffed bitterly. That's when you took in your surroundings for the first time. The two of you were trapped inside a crevice in the canyon, barely wide enough for a whole body to lay flat, it was a few metres long in length. The more devastating part was that there was no exit or way up. The two of you were trapped down here. "Shit.", you murmored.

"If you still want to kill me, do it now. At least I won't have to starve to death.", he said, gasping as he sat up straighter against the stone wall.

"No-... There has to be a way out. We could-... climb up?"

"And how are you going to do that? The stone is too smooth, there are no ledges to grip onto. And even if you did make it up a few metres, if you fell, you'd only injure yourself more."

"Oh, so you just want to give up and die?", you scoffed.

"Unless you have a realistic escape plan, then yes, that's the only thing left for us to do."

You felt your head throb again painfully. You should have listened to Jin. This had been a dumb idea. Anyone smarter than you would've just given up after escaping with your life last time but no- you just had to try it again. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Ah- fuck-" Your gaze dropped to Jungkook whose face was scrunched up in pain as he moved slightly. A hand was pressed to his side where you had shot him earlier. You didn't know how bad the wound was but it couldn't have been too deep considering he was still alive and not bleeding out. "I can't believe you really got me. I was slacking."

How he felt the need to talk to you was beyond you. You were his enemy but still - he was talking to you like you were an old aquaintance. You wanted to feel hatred towards him but it seemed like every bit of anger had left you. There was no point in fighting anyway - you'd both die down here.

"Let me see.", you forced out, kneeling down next to the man and trying to move his hand away from the injury. He didn't stop you but he seemed taken aback, eyes glued to yours as you pulled the button up shirt from his pants, careful to not irritate the wound too much. Once you had clear view of the gash, you inspected it. The bullet had only grazed him but it still left a decent gash on his side, skin ripped with ragged edges. It would take some time to heal and would probably leave a nasty scar, but what did it matter anyway? Neither of you would be alive then. How much you wished for one of those new devices you had read about in the newspaper - a telephone? Was that what they were called?

You went to grab something from your bag but it was no longer laying against you hip. Had it ripped off while fighting Jungkook? You looked around and saw the brown bag lying a few metres away. Thank god! Your bag was your ticket for living at least a few days longer. Dried meat and a small emergency flask of water could grant you enough time to think about all the times you had fucked up in your life or what desicions led you to be trapped here. Great.

You stood up to grab it and Jungkook followed your figure with curious eyes. He looked younger now that you really took him in. A boyish gleam in his eyes, though matted because of the circumstances. He was definitely not ugly either. If he had chosen a different life, you might have even bedded him.

What nonsense. You couldn't change a thing about the past and that was that. Thinking of all the possibilities if things had been different was wasted time.

You returned to Jungkooks side, fishing for a herb from the inside of your bag. You stuck it in your mouth, chewing it up into a paste before spitting it onto your fingers. "I know I'll die anyway but I'd appreciate it if you didn't give me an infection."

You just rolled your eyes as you applied the paste to the wound making him hiss slightly. You needed something to bandage the wound with but your neckerchief had been left behind at Jungkook's camp and was ripped apart anyway. You noticed that he was wearing one around his neck and went to untie it, hands combing through his slightly long black hair to get the knot loose. You didn't realize how close you were to him until you felt his warm breath on your own face. His eyes were locked to yours as he searched for something in them. Your brows furrowed and you quickly pulled back, unfolding the neckerchief and roling it into a bandage to tie around his waist. The fabric was barely long enough to actually be tied together but you managed, even though you must have hurt hime quite a bit in the process.

"Didn't take you to be such a whiny boy.", you said jokingly.

He didn't answer, only inspecting the bandage around his middle. You opened up the waterskin and poured it over his face earning a displeased grunt from Jungkook. You wiped the dirt, grime and blood from his face with your hands. "I could have done that myself, you know?" You poured a little water into your hands, cleaning your own face, being careful to only use as little water as possible.

"Why are you bandaging me up? Afraid you'll go to hell if you don't start doing nice things now?", he asked after some time, hairs falling into his eyes as he rested his head against the stone wall behind him. You had decided to sit opposite of him, sitting cross legged.

The truth was, you didn't even know the answer to his question. Why did you treat his wound? It was pointless anyway.

"Well, I guess in the face of death, people start to act strangely.", you answered, head turned away from him. Jungkook chuckled and licked his dry lips, throat feeling uncomfortably dry too.

"A shame that it has to end like this.", he then said,"I was wishing to escape you one more time. Bruising your ego a bit, you know?" He was laughing to himself, swallowing the bit of saliva his body could muster up.

"It looked more like you were trying to get me to meet my maker.", you answered, looking over to him, your lips curved slightly upwards now.

"You were better than I anticipated and I was taken aback. Didn't want to die, to be honest. You left me no choice."

You scoffed, the smile now wiped off your face. "Yeah right. You had the choice to not be a fucking outlaw in the first place!"

"Did I really?", he spat sourly.

You went silent then, watching as his brows furrowed.

"I had noone when I was younger. Should I have moped around the streets looking through the trashcans for food like the other street kids?" You knew who Jungkook was talking about. Homeless children were no rare scene, especially in big cities like Saint Denise. There was no furture for them outside of crime and gangs.

"When Namjoon found me, I was at the brink of starvation. He took me in and taught me everything I know about guns, horses and money. I truly did not have a choice if I wanted to survive."

He swallowed thickly before continuing.

"Besides, Namjoon always taught me how fucked up this so called society is. We just wanted to be free, to not be bound by laws and power-hungry people. Can you really blame us for that? Politicians and lawmen are not any different from us outlaws, they just have a badge that excuses every crime they commit against minorities."

"That's no excuse for the things you did. I am not here to try to make you regret your past but killing innocent folk is not any better than they are."

"We never intended to kill innocent people. I won't lie and say I have never killed anyone innocent but that was never our goal. We were just after the rich and powerful men. It doesn't matter now anyway. I left the gang a long while ago."

You didn't say anything after that, head resting back against the warm stone and watching as the sky slowly turned different shades of orange, red and pink.

You rumaged through your bag before feeling the cool glass against your fingers and pulling the whiskey bottle out. Jungkook looked amused as you took a big swig, handing it to him afterwards. He took the bottle gratefully and took a few big swigs, face scrunching up in distaste but continuing to down the liquid. When the bottle left his lips they were coated in the smooth liquid, glistening in the golden sunlight. He looked pretty. And that wasn't the booze talking... not yet at least.

"What about you? You had to listen to me whining about my shitty childhood, and now I'll listen to your tragic story."

"What makes you think I had a tragic childhood?", you teased, taking the whiskey from him and nipping at the bottle.

"Oh, please!", he huffed, "You are a bounty hunter and you want to tell me that you had a nice childhood? I have heard way better lies than that." You laughed at that, passing the bottle back to him.

"Well, my story is not as dark and dramatic as yours. I just wanted to catch bad guys and get decent money for it. They don't allow women to join the lawmen and even if they did, I guess we have one thing in common; I don't want to have anything to do with those people. I know their system is corrupt, only made to fit rich white men."

Jungkook seemed surprised. You were on different sides, you were supposed to represent the law and everything Jungkook hated but you were agreeing with him? He barely knew anyone that wasn't an outlaw or a beggar that thought like this.

He clutched the bottle tighter and nipped at it again, letting the liquid burn his throat. Maybe, just maybe, if things were different, if you two were to get out of here, you could start again? Get to know each other as people and not as enemies. It was foolish to think of anything in the future, seeing how you were doomed down here, but he wanted to know you. You were pretty, he wasn't blind. If the circumstances had been different he would have loved to bed you.

He shook his head, squeezing one hand into his pocket and pulling out a tiny photograph. You scooted closer until you were sitting next to him, taking the whiskey bottle that was almost empty now. It hadn't been full before, but still.

"This was the gang.", Jungkook explained, passing the photo to you. You looked at the faces, all smiling at the camera. You spotted Jungkook in the middle next to a tall man who had proudly swung an arm over his shoulder. If you didn't know any better you would have assumed that this was just a group of friends getting their picture taken. "That's namjoon, right?", you said and pointed to the tall male. Jungkook nodded, smiling widely. "And that's Jimin, Taehyung, Yoongi, Hoseok and Soekjin." You laughed as you spotted Jin, a wide smile on his lips as he stood on the other side of Jungkook.

Wait a damn minute... wait. a. minute.

"Jin??", you gasped and Jungkook looked at you questioningly. "How is Jin in this picture? He- He's a good friend of mine and he's also a sheriff!"

"Oh, so that's where he went.", Jungkook mumbled to himself but you heard him loud and clear. You waited for him to explain.

"Jin was part of our gang but he mostly just tried to get the law off our back. He taught me a lot about who I am. Unfortunately, he left the gang one year before I did. Said he couldn't identify himself with the gang anymore... with what we had become. It's true, we were more ghosts than people by the end. I'm no saint - I know that - but I guess I never truly knew how much of a lowlife I was until Jin left. He was partly the reason I left a year later. How is he doing? How do you know him?"

"Well, I'd say he's pretty well. He is the sheriff after all, that gets you some decent money. I turned a lot of the targets in that he hung up on the bounty wall. We started chatting and then went out drinking sometimes."

"Oh, so you two are-...?", Jungkook gestured with his hands, trying to bring across his point without actually saying anything, hoping you got what he was trying to ask.

"No! God, no!", you laughed and Jungkook perked up at the pleasant sound. "Just friends. Collegues of sorts. But now it makes a lot of sense why he was trying to convince me to not go after you. He also took down your poster a few times. He always said it was because you were too damgerous and he wanted to protect reckless bounty hunters." You laughed. Imagining Jin in a gang of outlaws, hah! You would have to squeeze some details out of him!

Your face fell instantly. You couldn't. Because you wouldn't see him again. Maybe, just maybe Jin would come to look for you in a few days and find your rotting corpse in this hell hole. You chuckled bitterly to yourself.

"How much is it now?", Jungkook asked.

You took the bounty poster out of the bag and handed it to him. It was a little ragged now but still readable.

"Wow that's a new record. At least they didn't fuck up my face again with an ugly sketch." You smiled again as you watched him read his poster. "I'm sorry that you won't be getting the money now. But at least you managed to eliminate another bad guy. You'll surely be a hero then, right? People only idolize the dead. Like painters, you know? Maybe they'll write a campfire song about the bounty huntress that killed an outlaw by starving both herself and him to death in a canyon." You laughed and slapped his stomach lightly, already having forgotten about his wound. He hissed and moved away from the touch and you panicked. "Oh shit, I'm so sorry, I forgot!"

"It's fine.", he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Wait let me see if I disturbed the wound."

You pulled up his shirt, only now noticing the hard muscles that adorned his abdomen. You tried to lift the bandage but the shirt kept falling over your hands. "Take this shit, it's annoying!", you said impatiently. Instead of just holding the shirt up though, he pulled it off over his head, exposing his upper body. You didn't mean to stare but his body was carved by the gods themselves. You tore your gaze away from him and back to the wound. It seemed to be okay, no fresh blood or other substances leaking from it. "Okay, I think everything is fine."

"So you had me remove my shirt for your own entertainment, or-..."

You felt your cheeks getting warm as he teased you, holding your gaze.

"You-! You were the one to remove it! I told you to hold it up!"

"Well you did seem to enjoy it though."

You grabbed the shirt that was laying in his lap and threw it into his face, earning a low chuckle. He grabbed your arm and pulled you next to him again, taking the whiskey and downing the rest of it before turning his head to you. You looked up at his eyes, your own eyes flickering to his lips every so often. They looked plush and pink now, so kissable. Maybe it was the alcohol clouding your senses.

You went to turn away but Jungkook took your chin carefully, angling your face up so you had to look at him before placing his lips on yours in a sweet kiss.

You were surprised, shocked even, but you didn't pull away. His kiss was intoxicating and he tasted to good even though there was a hint of whiskey still on his lips.

He pulled back a few seconds later, looking for something in your eyes. "If your bounty hunter friends saw you right now what would they say?", he teased, voice barely a whisper.

"I think they would grant me one last nice thing before I die.", you whispered back, leaning back into Jungkook and capturing his lips in a more heated kiss. His tongue slid against your mouth and you opened it instantly, letting his greedy tongue explore your wet mouth. You moaned as Jungkook grabbed your hips, pulling you into his lap so he didn't have to crane his neck to the side. You fit into his lap like you belonged there, like you were meant to sit there at all times.

What on earth were you doing?

But did it matter? If you were to die soon, you'd at least be able to boast to the demons of hell that you had fucked Jeon Jungkook.

You ground yourself into his lap and he moaned, almost desperately, as your crotch prerssed against his growing hardness. You felt blood rush to your middle, throbbing in need, at the feeling of his hardening member. He pawed at your shirt, pulling it from your pants and pulling it off your body swiftly. His lips found your neck and colarbones in an instant and didn't miss the opportunity to mark you. He was sucking and biting your skin as you threw your head back, hands tangled into the long curly strands in the back of his head. You kept grinding into his crotch, wanting to hear him moan and hiss.

"Fuck-... If you keep going at it like that, I'll cum in my pants."

"We better get them off then.", you answered, feeling for the buttons and popping them open one after the other. You palmed his hardness through his pants before trying to slide them down further, which wasn't possible due to him sitting on the ground. Instead, Jungkook grabbed his shirt that was by his side, threw it on the ground behind you and gently lowered your back onto it, making sure to not hurt you. Once he was towering over you, you slid his pants down further along with his underwear, grabbing the throbbing and hot member. The skin was silky smooth and precum was already leaking from the red tip. You spat into your hand to make the glide easier and started stroking him. Jungkook dropped his head to your shoulder, groaning as you jerked him off with your soft hands. It had been some time since Jungkook had actually been with someone, so he was trying his hardest to not cum right then and there.

He occupied himself with releasing your breasts from your breastband, simply ripping it open, not patient enough to unravel it slowly. His mouth found your breasts as he kissed them all over, tongue flicking the hardened nubs. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter as he kissed and licked your body. God, he probably didn't even know what he was doing to you. Oblivious to the mess that coated the inside of your underwear.

You let go of his hardness as he kissed lower and lower, reaching your pants and unbottoning them slowly. He kissed each newly revealed part of skin before pulling off your boots and then the rest of your pants along with your underwear.

"Fuck. I have barely started and you are already soaking wet.", he groaned, lips exploring your hips and thighs. He was growing impatient, you could sense the urgeness in his kisses and touches.

His hands glided up your body again, reaching your breasts and squeezing them gently. He places open mouthed kisses against your mouth, licking into it hungrily. His wet, hot length was pressed against you as he settled in between your legs. "Fuck, you are so pretty, wanted to fuck you since last time you tried to catch me." You groaned at his confession. So he truly did remember you from last time you were trying to kill him.

"Wondered what you'd look like beneath me instead of behind a gun. Screaming my name in esctasy and not anger."

He kissed you gently before grabbing his length and running the silky head through your wet folds, passing by your clit and making you clench around nothingness. "Wanna make you cum. Cry out my name and cling to my body."

You moaned at his dirty words, feeling his head press into your entrance. "You want it?", he asked, kissing your lips and biting the lower one. "Fuck yes, Jungkook. Fuck me, please!"

He didn't waste any longer and burried himself into you deeply. Both of you groaned as he pushed into you until you couldn't take more of him. He was balls deep in you, your walls pulsing around him as he moved slightly. He gave you time to adjust to his size before starting a rythm that felt right for him. You locked your legs behind his hips, pushing him deeper into you with weath thrust. He was setting your body on fire, his length hitting all the right spots inside you.

You moaned and pulled his face into the crook of your neck, holding him so close you didn't know where his body ended and yours began. You could feel tiny stones digging into your back through the shirt he had laid down but you couldn't care less. He was panting next to your ear, skin burning up against you as he fastened his rythm. "Oh fuck- fuck. You feel so good around me. Such a tight little cunt-" You couldn't even respond because you were lost in the feeling of him pushing against your cervix with every thrust. It made you feel so full of him.

He hoisted his body onto his forearm, muscles flexing and giving you a nice view. He took two fingers and brought them to your mouth, making you suck on them. When he was satisfied with your work, he pulled them out, snaking the two digits between your bodies and finally findiny your clit. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan when he drew circles onto the sensitive nub. You clenched around him tightly and he grunted in response. With his fingers working away at your clit, you were barreling towards your orgasm. You wanted to tell him how good he made you feel, how the drag of his cock set your walls on fire and how you were close, so fucking close. But instead only breathy moans left your throat, gripping at his body tightly, as if you were afraid to slip over the edge because you knew it would be overwhelming.

"You- shit, you keep getting tighter. I'm not gonna last long with this tight cunt.", he announced, his rhythm faltering.

"Jungkook- fuck, I'm gonna-", you were silenced as you tipped over the edge, the pleasure almost too much for you to handle. You clenched hard around him, making it almost impossible for Jungkook to keep fucking into you. But he only needed two more thrusts before he was following you into his own high. A throaty groan left him, as he pressed himself into you as far as he could, pulling out only a bit before slamming back in, his release filling you up.

The both of you slowly calmed down, panting heavily against each other's mouths. He kissed you passionatley, moving to your jawline and down your throat. When he pulled back and looked at you, you gently moved the dark strands of sweaty hair out of his face. His eyes were locked with yours and you couldn't help but feel the warmth in your stomach as he looked down at you so lovingly. He proceeded to pull out, his release leaking out of you.

You helped each other dress. No word was spoken, but it wasn't awkward. Both of you still feeling the afterglow of an amazing orgasm.

That's when you head the sounds of hooves on hard stone. Jungkook quickly pulled your body to his, shielding you from the figure that leaned over the edge and peered down at the two of you.

"What in the world-... at least you're alive, I guess."

"Soekjin!?"

Jin had managed to pull Jungkook and you out with the lasso he had brought. The rough rope left slight burns on your skin but you figured it was better than starving to death down there.

While you were reliefed to see your friend, you were also confused as to how he had found you or why he was here in the first place.

"I wanted to help you catch he criminal!", Jin quickly said, grabbing onto Jungkook as if he hadn't casually been standing next to him the entire time. It made sense though. Jin didn't know that you knew of his history with the young outlaw.

"Jin drop the act. I wanna know why exactly you never told me that you were in a gang?!", you said, drinking from Jin's water bottle greedily. He choked on nothing and quickly turned to Jungkook who sheepishly grinned back at him. His ears turned six shades redder as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I- I thought it wouldn't bee such a good idea to tell a bounty hunter I was part of Jeon's gang. Who knows what you'd have done to me!", he joked. You scoffed.

"But seriously Hyung, what were you doing out here?", Jungkook piped up.

"Well both of my friends were gonna rip each other apart, couldn't let that happen right?", he laughed before suddenly frowning deeply. "Wait a minute... Wait a goddamn minute! Why the hell aren't the two of you ripping each other apart?"

"Believe me, we were, before we fell down into the ravine."

Jin eyed you suspiciously as he took note of your develished states... from all the fighting, of course!

He didn't question it any further.

The three of you proceed to get your horse that you had left behind as it was currently grazing peacefully. You were sat behind the saddle because Jungkook insisted on taking the reigns. Your arms were holding onto his tiny waist, feeling his muscles through his shirt. He was going to be the death of you. You were careful not to touch his injury, though it could not have been hurting too bad considering how he had fucked you earlier.

Jin had suggested bringing Jungkook to town and treating his wounds before he got going again. You had insited that you should get the fivethousand dollar since you technically were about to turn Jungkook in. Jin had protested to say the least.

As you were halfway there, Jungkook stopped the horse suddenly, making Jin, who had been riding ahead, stop as well and looking over his shoulder questioningly. If you had been able to see Jungkook's face you might have been able to predict his next move but since you couldn't you were more than surprised when he suddenly pushed you off the horse.

"Jungkook what the hell-", you said as you landed in the dirt, shoulder aching slightly.

"Sorry, I think it is better this way.", he grinned. "Also, where would be the fun in just staying? You'll seek me out again. My bounty will keep increasing for sure." A smirk was plastered on his lips as he urged the horse forward. "Until we meet again. I'm looking forward to it."

And with that he was gone. His figure disappearing into the darkness of the night. You couldn't even be mad at him. He had managed to escape from you in the end after all. You smiled to yourself, turning to Jin whose eyebrows were raised in surprise as he watched Jungkook disappear. Maybe he was right, it was better this way, he would have been recognized in town and all hell would've broken loose. Also, this way it would be way more fun.

You chuckled to yourself before you made a devastating realization.

"That fucker just took off with MY horse!"

[writingdotcoffee]

#208: Write Like a Painter

The initial sketches that an artist does in preparation for a painting look almost nothing like the finished product. For writers, the lines are a lot more blurry. A draft — the first or the very last — is always just a bunch of words on paper.

When you're reading a story, you may imagine the writer sitting at his desk, writing those beautiful sentences down exactly as you see them. But that rarely ever happens. What the author wrote down in the first draft has been rewritten and edited many times before publication. In fact, you probably wouldn't even recognise the story by reading a passage from the first draft.

Writers and painters have a lot in common when it comes to the creative process. Here's what you can learn about writing by watching painters at work.

Working in Layers

Most painters start with a rough sketch. They erase it so it's barely visible and do another one on top. Then they start blocking in the colours and adding more and more detail.

The initial sketches guide the artist's hand later on when she's adding new layers on top. Without the sketches, it would be very hard for the artist to create the image. Even though you won't see it in the finished work, the sketch is an essential part of the process.

Think of the first draft as the initial sketch — something to guide you when shaping the story to its final form. By the time you're finished, you may have removed, replaced or rearranged every single word. That doesn't make the first draft any less valuable. The finished story wouldn't exist without it.

The Importance of the First Draft

As I said, the first draft is critically important, but it also isn't. The details aren't important at all. A lot of the polishing and editing writers do while working on the first draft can be a waste of time. Often, you'll have to cut entire chapters.

A painter won't spend hours adding detailed shading to a sketch only to cover it with a layer of paint. That'd be ridiculous! As a writer, it's much easier to fall into the same trap.

Painters use the initial sketches to set the perspective of the image and find the right shapes. Writing is much the same — the important things in the first draft are the broad strokes that will define the shape of the narrative. You want to get your main characters in and hit all the crucial plot points. But there's no need to agonise about what does your protagonist order at Starbucks in scene 12.

That's not to say that the details don't matter. They can make or break a story, but they aren't necessary when you're working on the first draft.

It's ok to leave things unfinished or keep writing even if you can't decide or simply don't know something. Skip it, wing it, do whatever it takes so you can keep going. The first draft just has to exist. You can fix anything later.

Many writers (myself included) spend way more time and energy on the first draft than is necessary. I'm not entirely sure why, to be honest. Perhaps our brain gets somehow confused because the first draft looks a lot like the final draft. They're both just words on a page, and yet, they couldn't be more different.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Radek 👋. I’m a writer, software engineer and the founder of Writing Analytics — an editor and writing tracker designed to help you beat writer’s block and create a sustainable writing routine.

I publish a post like this every week. Want to know when the next one comes out? Sign up for my email list below to get it right in your inbox.

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Past Editions

#207: On Being Stuck, August 2021

#206: 4 Reasons to Keep a Journal, August 2021

#205: It’s just Writing, July 2021

#204: What Will Your Story Look Like?, July 2021

#203: It Will Take Longer Than You Think, July 2021