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navybrat817 · 3 months ago

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Deep in the Woods: Part 1

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Series Masterlist | Part 2

Chapter Summary: You encounter your grumpy temporary neighbor while attempting to chop some firewood.

Chapter Word Count: Over 3.3k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a bit rude at first, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: A new dark AU inspired by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor 's ask. ❤️‍🔥 Thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer for cheering me on! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The sun shining in the sky was deceiving as you hauled a large piece of wood to the tree trunk. It was chillier than expected, and the cold would only get worse once the sun went down. Your cabin had heat, but you'd be stuck if it went out and you didn’t manage to chop some firewood. Making a fire you could handle. Chopping wood?

That was another story.

“Okay,” you smiled, setting the log upright and adjusting your gloves before you grabbed the axe. You gripped the handle tight, raising it above your head. “I got this.”

The blade hit the log almost dead center. Unsurprisingly though, it barely pierced the wood. You hunched over, tugging at the axe, nearly losing your balance in the process. “I still got this,” you huffed, shaking out your arms and swinging again.

The next swing went deeper, but only by an inch. The swing after that, you nearly missed completely. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your body warming despite the chill in the air. After a moment, you dropped the axe and stared at the log with your hands on your hips. It was nowhere near split.

“I don’t got this,” you sighed.

“Who the hell are you?” a gruff voice asked from behind you.

Your heart leapt to your throat as you spun around, and it raced even faster when you spotted a figure just a few feet away. He was a large man, and one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. He would likely tower over you if he stepped closer. His dark hair hung messily past his shoulders, while his perfectly trimmed beard gave him a rugged edge. The flannel he wore strained against the biceps of his muscular arms, one of the shades of blue matching his thunderous eyes.

Was he glaring at you?

“Hi,” you smiled, trying to sound friendly as you gestured toward the unchopped log. “I was just trying, and failing, to chop some firewood. I hope I'm not disturbing you.”

He kicked a small twig away with his boot. “I didn't ask what you were doing. I asked, ‘Who the hell are you?’”

Your smile slipped. Maybe he was local and didn't like outsiders, though something about him seemed familiar. “Oh, yeah. Right,” you said, giving him your name and nodding to the cabin nearby. “Mr. Hunter rented the place out to me. I’m staying for a couple of weeks. Just got here this morning.” You hoped the place wasn't double booked.

He relaxed a fraction, but his glare didn't disappear completely as he took out his phone and dialed a number. You heard a ring as he put it on speaker. While he tapped a foot impatiently, you weren't sure what to say or do.

“Howdy, neighbor,” a raspy voice answered on the other end.

“Did you rent out your place?” he asked, keeping his eyes on you when your face got hot. You wanted to yell that you wouldn't lie about something like that, but that didn't seem like a good idea.

“Yeah. Pretty lady. Paid in full upfront. Clean background, too.” You looked at your feet. It was weird to listen in even though it was on speaker. And did he say ��clean background”? What did that mean? “Why? Is she-”

The man hung up the phone. “Didn't think he rented his cabin out anymore,” he said more to himself than you.

An awkward silence filled the air. “Yeah, well, apparently he does. I booked it a couple of months ago and he left a code to get in and some instructions for the place,” you explained, trying to smile again as you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. “It’s a really nice place and the view up here is gorgeous, like something out of a photograph. Do you live nearby?”

He grunted and jutted his chin out. “My cabin is the next one over to the left.”

“That’s nice,” you smiled more, grabbing the axe again. “And it was very interesting meeting you, temporary neighbor, but I should try to finish this up.”

Before you could blink, the man was directly in front of you with one hand on the handle. He was even bigger up close. “If you’re thinking of taking another swing at that log, don't,” he barked at you, snatching the axe from your hands. You weren’t sure if it was his tone or him grabbing it from you that made you flinch. “This isn't a toy, it’s dangerous. And from the looks of that log you have no business trying to do that to begin with.”

Your cheeks burned again. It was bad enough that this guy didn't take your word for staying at the cabin, but the last thing you needed was for some stranger to lecture or humiliate you, and a grumpy one at that. “Yeah, well, if my cheating asshole of a boyfriend hadn't been balls deep in his colleague, we wouldn't be having this conversation. He'd be out here chopping firewood and I’d be inside cooking, which is something I'm actually good at, thank you very much,” you snapped.

Your tone surprised him enough to let you take the axe back. “I didn't…” he trailed off when you held up a hand.

“You don't know me and that’s fine, but I’m trying to be friendly and that's more than you can say,” you continued, his nostrils flaring. He didn't have to be nice to you, but he didn't need to be rude either. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I'm stuck here by myself, I’m trying my best to make it work, and I don't need some random stranger out here giving me a hard time for no reason.”

Your eyes burned as he stared at you, but you squared your shoulders and held your head high. You spent enough time crying over a prick who wasn’t worth it and you refused to shed another tear because you deserved better than an unfaithful asshole. And you sure as hell wouldn't cry in front of some hot grump with a chip on his shoulder.

The man’s pensive look dissipated more of your sudden anger and his tone softened considerably when he asked, “You’re really out here by yourself?”

You tensed up. It wasn't smart of you to broadcast that you were all by your lonesome. “Yeah, for now,” you said, your voice softer, too. Maybe you could convince a friend to stop by for a day or so. “I know I’m not good with an axe, but I tried. I just wanted some firewood in case the heat went out for any reason,” you said, your shoulders sagging. “So if you don't mind, can I please finish up?”

He nodded, taking the axe more gently this time. “Let me,” he offered, your eyes wide at his change in demeanor. “And step back. I don't want you to get hurt.”

Once you moved out of the way, he lifted the axe and split the log down the middle with expert precision. With his view on the task at hand, you swept an appreciative gaze over him. The guy was a bit of a grump, but he filled his jeans out well. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, mister,” you told him, getting a grunt in response. “My problems aren't your problems and I didn't mean to get so defensive about my lack of wood chopping skills.”

“You can call me Bucky,” he said, grabbing another log. “And nothing to be sorry for. I didn't exactly lay out the welcome mat for you.”

“It’s… Wait, Bucky.” Your eyes widened in realization. “Bucky Barnes?”

He froze before he brought the axe down again. “Heard of me?”

“Of course I have. You helped save the world,” you smiled. Years back, an alien warlord had wiped out half of the population. Not only did a group of heroes called the Avengers help reverse the wipeout, but they stopped the monster with the help of many others across the galaxy. Bucky was one of those people. No wonder he seemed so familiar. “You’re a hero.”

A tortured one at that. You remembered seeing a few articles about him. A former prisoner of war turned brainwashed assassin turned hero. He was pardoned for the crimes committed while was brainwashed, and rightfully so in your opinion, and he went on to use his skills and expertise to help others.

What was he doing out here in the woods?

“Not really a hero anymore,” he said, brushing his hair back with his forearm. “Now I’m just a lumberjack who values his privacy.”

“Oh.” That answered your question. “I guess valuing your privacy explains why you didn't roll out the welcome mat,” you teased, wringing your fingers together. You felt kind of bad again for snapping at him. Given his past that you were aware of, it made sense why he would've been suspicious of someone new popping up near his home.

He stopped to glance at you. “Guess it’s my turn to apologize,” he said.

You blinked, not wanting to lose yourself in his deep gaze. “No need. I figured you were just a local who didn't like new people around.” You smiled at the pile of wood he made. “I think you chopping firewood for me is the perfect apology. You saved me a lot of time and trouble.”

He hummed, putting the blade in the tree trunk once he finished. “You said you cook?” he asked, wiping his gloves on his jeans as he faced you.

“Yeah. I actually have a stew keeping warm right now,” you replied, shifting on your feet when he stared you down. “Are you hungry? I made plenty.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

“Okay.” Your smile faltered when you walked toward the cabin with Bucky close behind. Was it a good idea to invite him in when you didn't exactly know him? The guy was a hero though. No reason to be suspicious.

The aroma of seasonings, beef, and vegetables greeted you as you opened the door and set your gloves on the entry table. “If you don’t mind taking your boots off, that was one of the instructions,” you told him, removing yours and hanging your coat on the hook.

While the cabin wasn’t large, it was in great condition. It was also extremely clean and tidy. The guy who owned it likely didn’t want dirt on his floors.

“Yeah, God’s kind of picky about that stuff,” Bucky said, putting his gloves on top of yours. You caught a glimpse of his metal hand, but you quickly looked away. It wasn’t polite to stare.

“Wait. The G in G.B. Hunter stands for God?” Your brows pinched as you walked toward the kitchen. “What the hell does the B stand for?” you muttered to yourself.

“That’s really what it stands for. He’s a bit of a strange guy, but a good neighbor when he’s here,” Bucky said, following close again. He was practically on top of you. “So, your boyfriend. He-”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you corrected him, inhaling deeply as you lifted the lid from the warm pot. The scent brought a smile to your face and pushed a bit of the bitterness away. “What about him?”

Bucky grabbed a couple of bowls from the cupboard. He knew where the spoons were, too, so he was at least somewhat familiar with the place. You weren’t sure how that made you feel. “How long were you two together?”

“Almost a year,” you replied. A waste of about twelve months and it wouldn't be fun to start over again.

He set the bowls on the counter before he grabbed a couple of drinks, sweeping a look over you. “Did you catch him cheating?” he asked curiously.

You froze, the image of your ex scrambling to cover himself and his colleague up as you walked in taking over your mind. You had to blink multiple times to make the image go away, but it didn’t stop your stomach from turning. “Yep,” you answered, your throat tight. Why did he want to know? “Tried to give me some lame excuse that it wasn't what it looked like, but I slapped him and said we were done. I can forgive a lot of things, but cheating isn’t one of them.”

“Loyalty is a good trait to want in a partner,” he mused.

“It is, but it’s a trait he didn't have apparently. At least we didn’t live together,” you continued, taking a breath. It hurt and felt good to talk about it. “We were supposed to come up here for a getaway and I debated cancelling the reservation, but I figured it would be a good way to clear my head.”

The kitchen felt warmer and you figured it was because you were close to the stove until you realized Bucky was right at your back. You went rigid when he inhaled. Maybe he was just smelling the food. “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You gripped the ladle until your hand ached. “Not your fault,” you whispered, keeping perfectly still. If you moved forward, the stove would burn you. If you moved back, you’d be right against him. It was a small kitchen, but there was no reason for him to stand so close.

You didn’t exhale until he moved to set the drinks on the table. “You got a job?” he asked.

Clearing your throat, you nodded, thankful for the change in topic. “Yeah, data entry. Not too exciting, but it’s decent pay and I don’t have to go into an office or deal with traffic.” You scooped a generous portion of stew into a bowl for him, just in case he was really hungry. “As long as I have my laptop and an internet connection, I can get the job done.”

“Must be nice,” he commented, but it sounded more admirable than sarcastic. “You said you and your ex didn’t live together. Do you have a roommate? Pets?”

You side-eyed him. The tone was casual, but what was with the multiple questions? “I live alone because my apartment is about the size of a shoebox,” you said. It was cozy though and yours. “Nice thing is the rent is cheap. Sad thing is the building is pet free.”

He took out his phone as you got your bowl ready. “I have a cat,” he said, shoving the phone close to your face. It was a photo of a beautiful white cat sitting by a window. It was endearing picturing a burly man holding such a delicate creature. “Her name’s Alpine.”

You smiled at the image. “She’s really beautiful. I’ve always loved cats.”

He smiled a little, too, but it went away as fast as it appeared. “She’s very particular with people, but you’re welcome to meet her.” He took the bowl from your hand to carry them to the small table nearby. “She might like you since you’re sweet.”

Heat rolled up your neck. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose,” you said. It wasn’t like you had any plans during your time there, but he had done enough by chopping the firewood for you.

His jaw ticked. “If it was an imposition I wouldn't have asked.”

“Oh, I wasn't trying to imply anything,” you promised, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't your intention to upset him.

“Are you allergic to cats?”

“No, I’m not,” you answered.

He set the bowls on the table and leveled you with a hard stare. “Then I think you should meet her,” he said, pulling out a chair for you. It sounded more like an order than a suggestion. “Sit.”

You hesitated before you sat down. “Okay then,” you said. Maybe he was trying to make up for being rude earlier by welcoming you in some capacity. “Does tomorrow work?”

His lip curled up in a smile, giving you a nod, too. “Tomorrow. Early afternoon,” he replied, taking a seat. How did he still look so big sitting down? You watched him blow on a spoonful of stew before he took a bite, his eyes shutting with a groan. It was a deep, primal sound and you shouldn't have liked hearing it. “This is… really good.”

You beamed, unable to help yourself. You took pride in your cooking. “I’m glad you like it,” you said, digging in, too. “So, you said you’re a lumberjack now. How long have you been doing that?”

He hunched over a bit as he took a few more bites, like he hadn't eaten all day. “About nine months. Tough mission happened and I had to walk away from it.” He shrugged dismissively. Did the mission have a bad outcome or was it just the straw that broke the camel’s back? It wasn’t any of your business. “Came out to the woods with Alpine, started chopping down trees to work out some of my frustration, and it somehow became my new job. The woods suit me better than the city anyway.”

“Yeah? How so?”

He shrugged again. “It’s quiet, peaceful. No judging or prying eyes,” he answered, pushing the now empty bowl away. It almost sounded like he was hiding from the world. “And I don’t mind working with my hands. Can chop trees down pretty fast and it doesn’t take long to get the logs to the sawmill. Even built some of my own furniture in my place.”

“You build your own furniture? That’s so cool,” you smiled. It took a moment, but he smiled back a little. “Being a lumberjack sounds like hard but satisfying work,” you added. You admired him for being a hero, but also for his new, humble lifestyle.

“Yeah, it is.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach. “This might be rude to ask, but you wouldn’t mind making us lunch tomorrow, would you? I can cook, but it’s nothing like yours.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. Part of you took it as a compliment that he liked your cooking, but something in his stare made you want to squirm. Could it be the assumption that you were going to have lunch with him when all he said was that he wanted you to meet his cat? “I don’t mind,” you smiled. Maybe the guy was a bit lonely and just wanted someone to share a meal with. You could sympathize with that. “Anything in particular you like? If I don’t have it, I can go to town and-”

“Surprise me, doll.” The chair scraped along the floor as he pushed himself up, towering over the table and you. “And don’t bother going to town. Whatever you have here to cook, I’ll eat it.”

“I’ll surprise you then.” Your brows pinched as he went back to the kitchen. He walked around like he owned the place. “Oh, help yourself,” you said when he stopped at the stove for another bowl.

He paused to look back at you. His blue eyes looked a shade darker and you couldn’t help but shiver. “I plan to,” he stated.

You gave him a smile, discreetly patting your pants pocket to make sure you still had your phone on you. It wasn’t like you needed to call anyone for help, but you were all alone and had to be careful. You were still going to have a nice time though. It would be a relaxing trip and you could catch up on reading, relaxing, whatever you wanted.

Besides, Bucky was nearby just in case. The guy didn’t seem to have a complete sense of boundaries, but he wasn’t a bad guy. He was a hero. You didn’t have anything to fear.

Right?

Oh, our reader did herself no favors by answering truthfully that she's all alone. I wonder how Bucky will play this... Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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juletheghoul · 7 months ago

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The General

a/n: So, the Roman got me. It was to be expected, honestly lol. I am well aware we know practically nothing about this character but I couldn't help myself. I wrote reader as a slave here, if you aren't into that - no worries. This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for letting me flood her with my thoughts and ideas and for helping me flesh it out🩷 Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, some dirty talk, creampie, alcohol, master / slave dynamic (power imbalance) one creepy dude making a pass, Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 1.6k

reblogs are appreciated

Series masterlist Masterlist next chapter; the baths

He comes through the tent flap late into the night, covered in blood, grime, and rage, and yet - you are there to greet him. The gods have seen it fit to bestow him with another day of victory, another day of life and with that life, comes his expectations of you.

You rush to pour the water you’ve kept hot at his fire into the basin he uses to wash, eyes scanning quickly for the clean linens he uses to cleanse himself of the gore of battle, and making yourself scarce once the basin is full.

He says nothing, but he has no need to.

You watch from your place at the edge of his vision, every nerve and receptor in your body honed to anticipate his needs.

His armor needs to be cleaned before first light, thank the Gods I didn’t fall asleep. I will need to mend the tear in his tunic as well–

His hand shot out, face up towards you, interrupting your mental tally of his state but your body responds quicker than your mind and you’re there in an instant, placing the clean linen into his dampened hand. Still, he says nothing.

You move towards his table while he finishes, shuffling his maps and well laid battle plans with great care in order to set out the olives and cheese he likes, the crusty bread and the dark wine he prefers.

“General.” The gruff voice at the tent flap scares you half to death, but you don’t cry out. You’re too well-trained for that. A few of his soldiers stand at the threshold. “We wish to share a cup, a toast to your victory.” They are eager, the red glint of blood still fresh in their eyes.

He grunts in response, but gestures to his table before giving you a pointed look. You rush to fetch more cups, setting them down at the extra places at his table. They are all seated by the time you finish pouring for them, and with another glance from Marcus–your general–you move to fetch more food from his stores.

They’re raucous, the heat of the battle still coursing through their veins. Where Marcus is focused on calming the blood, they are eager to stoke the fire. They are either oblivious to his dark mood, or unbothered by it.

“More wine!” One of them cries out, despite the way the General’s jaw clenches. You hurry to comply, pouring into the younger man's cup without spilling. “You are lucky General Acacius, a pretty, young, thing like this waiting to warm your bed of a night,” he leers up at you, his gaze slipping across your body like eels in a bowl, “would you share your wealth, I wonder.” His other hand slides up the back of your thigh causing you to gasp, his touch wholly unwelcome.

“If you would like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them to yourself.” His voice cuts through the air, “Come girl, take my cup away. I have no taste for wine just now.” You move away from the unwanted touch and towards Marcus, avoiding his eyes to complete the task at hand. “Go now, all of you. I will see you in the morning.” He moves from his place at the table, and if the others are unwilling to comply, they make no mention of it. The table is clear by the time he comes back, absent unwanted company.

He says nothing while removing his armor, but you rush to his side to assist anyway, carefully putting the pieces aside to clean.

The mood shifts, and his gaze now bores into you, and your heart races to feel it. Where the other man's eyes made your skin crawl, Marcus’ eyes feel like a caress. You feel them on the slit in your tunic, where your thigh is exposed. You feel them on your chest when you turn towards him to help take his chest plate off.

Goose flesh spreads like a stain across your skin, and your cunt weeps for him, betraying any thoughts that you might not want what he quite obviously wants to give you. The proof of it tenting his tunic when the leather Pteruges are removed.

Those brutal hands, the ones that’d been covered in blood and grime not an hour past, now grab onto your hips, the grip hard enough to bruise. The thin linen shift does nothing to insulate you from his heat, does nothing to dull the press of his want against your belly. Any doubts swimming in your mind about crossing this line with him–again–are silenced when the linen is all but ripped off, leaving you almost shivering in his arms.

The arousal is something fierce, an entity all in its own and it responds to his brusque movements with a perverse glee. It sets your nerves alight, drips down onto your thighs as he herds you towards his bed mat. His intensity infects you, it strengthens your grip, you’d swear it sharpened your nails by the way you rip at the very tunic you’re going to have to mend.

You land on your back amongst his linens and he’s quick to follow you there. It takes less than a breath for him to shrug everything off, both of you as nude as the day you were born.

“Open your legs.” His voice is gruff, and thick with want, the same want that smears fat pearly drops against the skin of your thigh.

Your nipples harden, drawing both his eye, and his mouth as you hurry to comply. He bites, pulling a gasp from your lips. His tongue quickly soothes it though, this is his pattern, an addictive balance of pain and pleasure. First one breast, then the other gets his attention, but only briefly, his desire burns too brightly.

You only manage to pull his face up to yours before his cock finally slips into your wet heat, feeding a gasp directly into his mouth when you take his kiss with a force to rival his own.

The size of him always shocks you into silence. He isn’t the first man to have you this way, your chastity had been gone long before you came into his service; you were glad of it to feel the way he molded you to accept him though. Now, and every time he’s been inside you.

His stroke is brutal, it’s hard, and rough and all but moves you higher onto his mat. It’s perfect.

Your knees hitch high onto his hips, just as he raises one knee to press against the back of your thigh for purchase and it pays off because he finds the spot that makes you keen.

He lets out a breathy laugh, relishing the state of you and the euphoria of your climax is far too close to feel any shame. Instead your cunt floods him, the slip of him moving so noisy and vulgar and welcome and blissful it pushes you closer still.

“More, please—“ you moan out the words, the first words you’ve spoken to him since he’d returned from a day of violence and he corrects you even now.

“More what,” he grunts, anger and ecstasy shining on his visage, “speak correctly, girl.” His voice is clipped, his movements faltering and you know he’s close.

“More please, Dominus.” They’re a whimper, and he responds to them just how you hoped he might. He moves quickly and for a moment you can see how he’s earned his reputation, agile and smooth and within a moment he sits back on his haunches, pulling your hips up to meet his thrusts.

You don’t know whether to scream, or weep, either way you thank the Gods for putting you in this man’s way. The pleasure is peppered with pain where his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, and you know you will feel the ache of holding them open tomorrow, but it’s so hard to care when it feels so good.

The precipice looms, the shadow of the climax clouding anything and everything and when you reach down towards where you’re spread wide, it only takes a couple of quick, wet circles at your clit to float away.

He groans, hips stuttering and you know you’ve taken him over the edge with you, you can feel the evidence of it painting your insides. His eyes glaze over as he watches himself fill you to the brim, slack-jaw and drunk on his orgasm and your flesh on display for him.

“I expect you to remain full of my gift-“ his tone is filthy, lust and victory of a different kind on his features as he grinds himself deeper, “until I take you again.” He hisses the last few words out, pulling his softening cock out to inspect his mess. “Am I understood?”

“Yes Dominus.” The words are sweet as summer fruit on your tongue, eager to please him.

He smiles, but it’s predatory and it makes you clench around nothing, your body betraying your words when you feel his spend dripping out in front of his eyes.

He tsks, pushing it back in with thick fingers.

“You are well aware I don’t tolerate such insolence.” His eyes narrow, but his mood is still playful, removing his fingers from your cunt, only to stick them in your mouth. “Now, get some rest. I expect you up at first light.” He speaks with absolute authority as you suck his fingers clean, and nod.

------

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #marcus acacius #Marcus acacias x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #marcus x reader

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starmapz · 2 months ago

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what you know - ch5: hero || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. reader has a vagina. slow burn. anxiety. tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 12.2k.

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[email protected] - Tuesday, 10:44 PM Have lunch with us tomorrow!

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If there’s one thing you can say about your friendship with Sukuna, it’s that he’s a lot funnier than all the rumors surrounding him give him credit for.

That, and that you’ve gotten a lot better at checking your email.

Pulling into the parking lot nearest to the campus library, you put the car in park and turn to the passenger’s seat to grab your bag. When you turn back, a startlingly tall figure is trudging through the snow towards you, salmon hair poking out from his hood standing as a dead giveaway as to who it is.

Rolling down your window, you call out to him. “Sukuna?”

He jogs towards you at the sound of your voice, resting his forearms on the edge of your car where the window is lowered. A paper cup adorned in a local coffee shop logo in each of his hands grabs your attention as he dips his head into your car and, more importantly, right into your personal space. Your heart races at the close proximity, keeping your attention on the cups in his hands in an effort to keep your thoughts in order.

“Shit, it’s cold,” he grumbles. “I swear it was just fall.”

Don’t say it, don't say it, don't say it- “You could always light yourself on fire again.”

Sukuna’s face deadpans. “Play your games, brat. I’m more than happy to have your drink,” he sneers, ducking his head back out of his window and into the cold as he attempts to turn away.

“Wait wait wait!” You giggle, reaching out to tug him back into the window as you pull on his coat sleeve. He scowls at you, letting you pull him back into the heat of your car despite his grumpy demeanor.

“D’you want your drink or not?” He grumbles, holding one of the cups out a bit further.

Curiously, you take it from him, smiling as it warms your hands. Bringing the cup up to your lips, you cautiously take a sip, your tongue swiping your lips when you pull it back to look at it with a crease between your brow.

“How’d you know my exact order?” You ask, wracking your brain for if you had told him at some point.

“I’m just that good,” he smirks, taking a sip of his own drink that smells like the most caffeinated black coffee you’ve ever bore witness to.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and Sukuna clearly isn’t about to let you in on his secret. With a soft sigh, you resign yourself to not knowing.

“Thanks, Kuna.”

He grunts in reply, taking another sip of his overpoweringly aromatic coffee.

“Are you gonna come study?” You query as you set your drink down in a cup holder to zip up your coat and pull your backpack up over your shoulder. Sukuna backs away from the door as you get out of your car and grab your drink.

“Nah, gotta turn in a paper.”

“See you at lunch, then?” You tilt your head to get a better view of Sukuna towering over you.

He grimaces, a muscle in his jaw tensing. “Suppose so.”

“Don’t sound so excited,” you tease.

“Can’t say I’m lookin’ forward to getting torn apart by your friends.” He takes a sip of his coffee, tucking his other hand into his pocket to fiddle with his lighter, though he’s careful not to start a fire this time.

“I’ll talk to them. It won’t be that bad,” you promise, giving him your best reassuring smile.

Sukuna pauses to examine your expression, his gaze flickering between your eyes and down to your smile. He knows you well enough to spot the crack in your facade, the barely-there flash of doubt in your eyes that tells him that your friends won’t forgive him so easily, but he owes you regardless, so he doesn’t have much of a choice at the end of the day but to trust you.

And trust you, he does. He’s not sure what it is about your calming presence and sunny demeanor, but you seem to pull the best from him and even in the turmoil that his life has become, he finds himself seeking that familiar warmth.

It’s for that reason that he’ll bear whatever it is that your friends deem a necessary punishment for him, even if it irks him.

He hums in reply, glancing down at his watch as he sets the thought aside. “Gotta go. Later,” he says abruptly as he turns to leave in usual Sukuna fashion.

“See you later, thanks for the drink!”

He casts a glance over his shoulder at you with a smirk before throwing his hood up over his head and trudging off into the snow. You follow suit, pulling your hood up with a shiver as the wind whips around you, reminding you just what season it is. Tucking your hands into your pockets, you jog towards the library and barge through the doors with as much poise as you can muster given the cold you’ve just run from.

Shoko’s head lifts from her book as you approach the table where she and Kento are hunched over their textbooks while Haibara is typing away on his laptop. With a huff, you take a seat across from Shoko and beside Kento.

“I can’t believe it got this cold and snowy so quickly,” you whisper, shivering as you toss your coat over the back of the chair.

“Welcome to winter,” Shoko sighs, fiddling with a coffee cup that matches your own.

“Oh!” Haibara looks up from his laptop with a pleased expression. “Good, you did get your drink!”

With a tilt of your head, you hold the paper cup out in front of you, glancing around the table as you realize all three of them have matching cups to yours.

“Yeah, um, Sukuna brought it for me,” you smile, bringing the cup towards your chest as if the thought makes you starstruck. Maybe it does, just a bit.

“I ran into him at the cafe. He actually came up and said hi, would you believe that? I mean, he just wanted your order, but I thought it was pretty nice for him.” Haibara beams, leaning back in his chair with a bright smile that you share. Kento and Shoko exchange a less enthusiastic glance, privy to information Haibara doesn’t have on your former project partner.

“That explains how he got my order right,” you giggle to yourself, pleased when Haibara laughs along with you. Maybe it’ll be good to have him at your side for lunch today to break the tension between Sukuna and your friends. “Oh yeah, he’s gonna join us for lunch.”

With Haibara sitting at the table, Kento and Shoko keep their mouths shut, but their displeasure doesn’t need to be voiced based on the frowns you receive.

“Can we talk, actually?” Shoko speaks up, pushing herself up from the table.

Your heart drops, but you nod, gingerly following as she leads you into the hall outside the library. It’s dead quiet, even more so than the library itself which was filled with the sounds of paper turning and pens scratching. Now, the silence seems to close in on you as your closest friend turns to you with an exasperated sigh.

“Listen girl, you know I love you.”

“That’s just about the worst start to this I could have hoped for,” you joke with a nervous laugh in hopes of lightening the mood.

Shoko smiles. “I promise it’s not that bad. I’m just worried and I won’t sit by with Kento and watch while Sukuna breaks your heart. Once is a mistake, but twice?”

The guilty look on your face causes her to sigh again, but before you can give her a better explanation, she continues.

“You’re too forgiving for your own good sometimes and I know you didn’t want to mention the kids to Kento, but can you at least tell me what his excuse was? I just want to make sure he isn’t taking advantage of you.”

You chew on your lip, knowing your explanation won’t help Sukuna’s case. “Well, he hasn’t exactly told me, but-”

“He hasn’t told you?” She parrots with a raised brow, rubbing her temple.

“Wait, wait, just listen!” You plead, grabbing her shoulders. “He told me there was an emergency with the kids and he doesn’t want me involved in it. I told him this is his last chance and he’s trying, Sho.”

She grimaces, the gears turning in her mind as she weighs her opinions on him based only on what you’ve told her. “You better have meant it when you told him this is his last chance,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “I know he’s got a lot on his plate but that doesn’t give him any excuse to treat you like you’re disposable.”

“I won’t let him,” you promise. “And he won’t,” you assure her. He hasn’t gained the entirety of your trust back, but you can see that he’s putting in a notable effort to earn it and you want so badly to believe that the Sukuna you’re getting to know will stick around.

In all honesty, you think the begrudgingly kind and thoughtful version of him you’re getting to know is the real Sukuna, beneath the layers of grumpiness and stress and anger that go hand-in-hand with that warmth that he seldom shows around others. Hardened by a life that’s been nothing but tough on him, you’re privy to another side of him. One that has a good time teasing and making jokes, who enjoys music, movies, and video games and has a love for art. Sure, he’s still got an attitude and a penchant for being easily annoyed (and annoying), but behind all those walls is a person that anyone would be happy to spend time with.

He just needs a little bit of help and some rest to show that side of himself, help that he has a hard time accepting over his pride.

With a deep sigh, Shoko resigns to your beseeching. “You really like him, huh?”

Your cheeks warm, unable to hide the smile that finds its way to your lips, although you don’t respond. She has her answer in the form of your giddy smile as you shuffle from one foot to the other.

“I’ve never seen you like this before. The heart wants what it wants, I guess.”

“So you’ll give him a chance at lunch today?” You plead, squeezing her shoulders lightly.

She takes a moment to consider your words before dramatically rolling her eyes as she pulls you in for a hug. “One wrong move and I’m whooping his ass.”

“I won’t stop you, promise.”

She pulls back and begins heading back to the library. “He’s been helping you with History, right? Can we go over that? I’m so behind,” she whispers as she crosses into the library. The sound of pages turning and pencils scribbling is a relief in comparison to the silence of the empty reading week halls.

“Sounds good!”

–

With a shiver, you brush the snow from your jacket as you make your way into the lunch hall, unzipping it as you’re met with warm air. There’s a few more students around than there has been the last few days, likely the result of the power going out in some of the dorms from the whispers you’d been hearing.

Making your way to your usual table, you pull out some leftovers from a couple of nights ago and make your way to the microwave.

When you return to your seat, the table has gained an air of awkwardness that you suppose you were expecting, and Sukuna is seated to the right of your chair. Haibara seems to be doing what he can to mediate the table and Shoko’s half-hearted replies are better than nothing, at the very least. Kento seems less than pleased, but he’s entertaining Haibara if nothing else.

“Hey!” You beam at Sukuna. His gaze flickers up to you and he nods in reply. The rest of the table seems to relax at your arrival, but the tension remains palpable. Tough crowd.

Taking a seat beside Sukuna, you turn to him as Shoko and Haibara talk about something they watched the night before, entertaining Kento with the drama of it all. “How did turning in your paper go?” You ask the tattooed man who’s leaning against his knuckles, propped up by his elbow on the table.

He yawns before he replies. “Fine. Should get a good grade,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I’m glad,” you smile, taking a bite of your lunch. “Did you bring anything to eat?”

“Yeah, leftovers from last night.” With a grunt, he leans down to his bag as though it took a nominal amount of effort, pulling a container from his bag. Setting the container down, he sighs heavily.

With a sympathetic smile, you lower your voice. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face as he glances around the table to make sure no one’s listening. “Cho’s been having nightmares and it’s catchin’ up with me.”

“Aww,” you pout. “Poor kid.”

“He’ll be alright,” Sukuna assures you, or at least you think he’s assuring you. “They both will.”

You purse your lips, examining the distance in his sunken eyes. You may be sitting beside him, but there’s a strange feeling that you’re watching him from outside, as though there’s a barrier of glass between you. Before you can question him any further, he changes the subject.

“How’s studying for History goin’?” He casts a glance at Shoko, just long enough to catch her eye and invite her into the conversation. It’s small, but it is a noticeable effort from Sukuna to include her.

“We were just going through it, actually. I feel way better about that final already,” you smile, eyes bright as you exchange a glance with Shoko.

Her cautious gaze softens and she nods in agreement. “Yeah. Thanks for the help.”

“Mm.” Sukuna hums, turning towards you with a smirk. “So if I ask about the Berlin Blockade-”

“Oh no,” you groan.

“- you can tell me how many air corridors the Soviets granted for cargo and trades and where they were granted to?”

Sukuna’s pretty sure he sees your eyes glaze over in dread and confusion from just one question, as though your confidence has fizzled out. He chuckles, amused.

“One question at a time. D’ya remember how many air corridors there were?”

You sigh. “This isn’t what I was hoping for when I invited you for lunch,” you grumble as you pull your history textbook out. “Three. There were three.”

“Good. Where were they granted to?”

“Um…” you take a deep breath, wracking your brain for information. “Frankfurt.”

“Mhm.”

“Hamburg.”

“Good.”

You chew on your lip, peering over at him with a blank stare that tells him you haven’t the faintest clue.

“Open your textbook,” he instructs.

You flip to the chapter about the Cold War, searching for information about the Berlin Blockade. Your eyes scan the pages and eventually come across all three locations. “Bückeberg.”

“Good. Who was the foreign minister at the time?”

The look you shoot Sukuna is too cute. You look completely and utterly lost, immediately searching your textbook. “Vyacheslav Molotov,” you reply after a moment, pointing at a black and gray photo of a man.

“Yes,” Sukuna agrees, reaching for your hand. His fingers are rough and calloused when he wraps them around yours, moving your hand an inch to the left to a different photo. “But you pointed at Stalin.”

“O- oh.” You tear your gaze from his much larger hand wrapped around yours to the two photos, using every shred of willpower you can muster to commit the photos to memory. Whether it’s because you’re burnt out on studying, or because the size of Sukuna’s hand is sending your mind reeling to places you’re not willing to admit aloud, your heart is pounding and you can only pray Sukuna’s fingers aren’t low enough on your wrist to feel your pulse. “My bad,” you barely manage to whisper.

Sukuna pulls his hand back, laying it next to yours on the table. “You were close,” he shrugs, not thinking much of it.

With a sharp intake of breath to clear your head, you pull your notebook aside and write down the answers you missed. “I should know this by now,” you mutter more to yourself than anyone else. Barely audibly, you tack on, “we’ve studied so much.”

Sukuna arches a brow, thoughtfully looking down at you. “It’s not a big deal. You actually know the history itself well, you’re just bad with names, dates, and faces.”

With pursed lips, you give him your attention, considering his words for a moment.

“What’s the reason for the Berlin Blockade?” He quizzes.

“To weaken Germany,” you reply without a moment’s thought.

He smirks, nudging your shoulder and keeping in close proximity with you. “See, you’re fine. That’s why I’ve been quizzin’ you on the more important shit.”

“I guess you’re right. Won’t there be a lot of names on the test though?”

“Nah. It’s like a seventy-thirty split,” he shrugs.

“Thirty’s a lot,” you mumble, your face falling at the thought of getting a seventy, and that’s only if you get a perfect score across every other question.

“Seventy is a lot,” he corrects, a playful smirk slathered across his lips. “Or are you a princess about your grades?” He teases as his lips turn up into a grin.

You force a smile, entertaining his teasing. “I know you’re right, but-” you pause, looking up into those striking crimson irises. He’s so close to you and regards you with so much mirth that your breath unintentionally hitches in your throat. “- um,” you continue shakily, “I could lose my scholarship if my grades aren’t good enough.”

Sukuna’s eyes briefly widen. “You’re on a scholarship?”

“Yeah, I need higher than a seventy on this final.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Alright then, princess. We’ll aim higher.”

Did your mouth just go dry from one word? God are you really in that deep?

“Thanks, Kuna.” You nudge him back, earning you another entirely too handsome grin.

“Mm.” His grin falters at the nickname, but he forces down his disdain for it.

You’re so caught up in your conversation with Sukuna, that you don’t see Haibara kick Kento and Shoko from under the table and direct their attention to your interactions with Sukuna. Even stoic Kento who was beyond pissed with Sukuna can’t deny that the sight could weaken even the hardest resolve against the man.

–

“I don’t WANNA!”

You lower your fist from Sukuna’s door the following night, pausing at the chaos from within his apartment. The anger and frustration just beyond the door is practically bursting out into the hall and you’re sure the moment it opens, it’ll metaphorically slap you in the face. Taking in a sharp breath, you raise your hand again.

“I won’t ask again,” comes Sukuna’s raised voice, straining to keep his anger down.

… And now you can hear sobbing.

You softly tap your knuckles against the door, half expecting to need to wait for someone to let you in but Sukuna swings the door open immediately. It slams shut behind you once you’ve cleared the entryway and the scene inside is equally as ugly as it sounds.

Choso is nowhere to be seen, Yuji is in tears and Sukuna is about to blow a gasket.

Oh boy.

“What’s- um-” You pause, debating whether you should even ask. “- Going on?” You question mousily.

“Go on brat, what’s going on?” Sukuna hisses, his chest rising and falling as fury courses through his veins.

Yuji’s too busy sobbing to reply, shaking his head adamantly as he wipes at his face, snot running down his chin.

“Fucking christ,” Sukuna mutters, exasperated. He runs a hand through his pink hair, turning on his heel away from the scene in an effort to keep calm. Whatever patience he’d had for this had run dry during their walk home from school and with the mess his life had become, he was already worn extremely thin.

As Yuji continues to bawl and Sukuna leans over the kitchen counter gathering himself, you decide to step in.

You make your way across the living room to Yuji, kneeling down in front of him. “Hey, sweetheart.” Your voice is gentle and you offer a sympathetic smile. “Everything’s alright, don’t cry,” you soothe as you reach out and gently rub the sides of his arms. “Do you want a hug?”

Yuji nods adamantly, hiccuping through the tears as he reaches out for you. You pull him in for a tight hug, rubbing his back reassuringly. Sure to keep your voice soft and gentle, you give him a moment before speaking up.

“What happened, Yu?”

“K-Kuna’s-” sniffle. “- he’s m-making me get a-” Yuji’s voice breaks as the tears set in again. “A-” hiccup. “- needleeeeee.” He sobs into your shoulder, burying his face into your neck. You let out a breath at the realization that it’s just an argument that’s been blown completely out of proportion. Life was so much easier when the hardest thing you had to endure was vaccinations.

“I’m sorry honey,” you coo, continuing to rub his back. You let him sob into your shoulder before pulling back to look at him. At the sight of your face, so gentle and calm, he starts to sniffle more and less tears flow down his cheeks. “There you go,” you smile, noticing now that there’s a very crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

Yuji wipes his face on his arm, his breath coming in short gasps as he slowly calms down.

“Can I see that?” You ask, holding your hand out.

“No,” he whines, holding it behind his back.

“Alright,” you smile again, deciding it’s best to reason with him.

You cast a glance back to Sukuna. His palms are splayed on the counter as he leans his weight over the surface, staring down at it. All of his muscles are tense as his back rises and falls steadily with each breath he uses to calm his own anger. They really are two sides of the same coin.

“Is your school doing vaccinations?”

Yuji nods.

“Is that your permission form?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you lying?”

He hesitates before nodding. You have to stifle a laugh at his completely shameless lie, your smile lopsided.

“Can we talk it through?” You ask, sitting cross-legged before Yuji.

He blinks a few times as he considers your question before plopping himself down on the floor in front of you. He glances down at the way you’re seated, following suit and setting his permission form juuust out of reach. Sneaky kid.

“Are you scared of needles?”

Yuji’s silent, thinking for a moment before he decidedly nods.

“Okay, that’s normal. Are you afraid it’ll hurt?” You query, tilting your head at him.

“It will,” he replies with an edge of certainty, sniffling.

“Maybe for a moment, but do you know what the needle’s for?”

“Um-” he wipes under his eyes, his face scrunching up in deep thought. “- no.”

“It’s so that you don’t get sick. Do you remember being sick the other week, sweetheart?”

“... yeah.” He continues to sniffle and wipe at his face, looking up at you between each movement as he waits for you to continue.

“Well, there’s sicknesses that are a lot worse than that, and your brother doesn’t want you to get them,” you explain, glancing back at the sound of Sukuna shuffling. He pushes himself up from the counter, listening as intently as Yuji is as he makes his way a short distance behind you. His disgruntled expression trains on the sight of you sitting alongside his little brother, but he’s silent. “Don’t you think it’s worth it to get poked for a moment and not get one of those sicknesses?”

Yuji’s gaze flickers between you and his older brother towering over both of you as he thinks about it. You give him all the time he needs, even as Sukuna’s foot begins tapping impatiently. He’s an adult, he can wait. “I guess,” Yuji finally agrees, averting his gaze.

“Do you think you can be brave for me and get a needle, then?” You ask, your gentle smile remaining in place the whole time.

It takes a moment, but Yuji nods.

“Can I have that paper, Yu?”

He gingerly reaches behind him and passes you the crumpled paper. Tilting your head up to Sukuna, you pass it up to him. He walks over to the table, signs it, and returns it to Yuji.

“You better give this to your teacher,” he growls as he hands it back to Yuji. The little boy frowns, staring down at the ground in shame as he sniffles. Tears threaten his eyes again and you sigh.

“Sukuna, please,” your tone is soft with him as well, pleading for understanding between the two.

A muscle in his jaw tightens as his frustrated gaze zeros in on you, but he second-guesses whatever snappy words are about to spill from his lips, choosing instead to keep his mouth shut. His lips press into a thin line, furiously glaring at you and Yuji.

“Can you promise your brother, sweetheart?”

He’s still quietly sniffling as he nods, unable to look either of you in the eye. You let out a soft sigh, rubbing at the crease between your brows. At least they’d come to some kind of peace, even if Sukuna is audibly huffing behind you while Yuji sniffles.

Pushing yourself to your feet, you offer a hand to Yuji, who takes it and lets you drag (yes, drag) him back up to his feet, quietly fiddling with the hem of his Sonic the Hedgehog shirt.

With a glance at Sukuna, clad in a plain white V-neck and sweatpants, you catch a glimpse of his tattoos and an idea pops into your mind. “You know, Yuji, your brother is super brave.”

The little boy’s head tilts in a silent question, just as Sukuna is looking at you with arms crossed over his chest. You take a step towards the older of the two brothers, avoiding his gaze to conceal your racing heart. Gingerly, you reach for his wrist and tug lightly on it. His lip twitches in a frown as he stays soundly in place, relenting finally when you tilt your head.

Fuck, it’s cute when you do that.

He lets you pull his wrist down towards Yuji, his expression unchanging as you point out his tattoos. “Your brother got thousands of needles for his tattoos, did you know that?” Your thumb rubs circles into Sukuna’s skin and he wonders if you know you’re doing it at all, his full attention trained on the action. Whether consciously or not, you seem to be trying to soothe him, and the fact that it’s working only further complicates the feelings bubbling in Sukuna’s chest.

Yuji peers up nervously with reddened eyes and puffy cheeks at his older brother. “Really?” He rasps quietly, his voice strained from crying.

“That’s right,” you grin. “Can you be brave like your brother?”

Yuji reaches out and presses a finger to Sukuna’s wrist, as if feeling for raised skin, only to find it’s smooth. “Like Kuna,” he nods in agreement, showing you the saddest smile you’ve ever seen through his tear-stained face.

“Like Kuna,” you agree, rustling the little boy’s salmon hair. He smiles more happily now, running off with his permission slip to slide it into his backpack.

Sukuna lets out a long breath as you drop his wrist. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Need to cry it out in my arms, too?” You tease with a grin.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Even as he rolls his eyes at you, you catch the short exhale of breath from his nose reminiscent of a laugh.

“The offer stands,” you shrug cheekily, heading over to the table to set your bag down. You pull your history textbook out, alongside your notebook and some cue cards you prepared after submitting your paper last night. You skimmed through your textbook to put together cue cards with names, dates, and locations and their relations to historic events after Sukuna had pointed out that you seem to have the rest of the subject down.

Setting everything across the table, you peer over your shoulder at Sukuna’s distant gaze. You’ve seen this expression on him before, a forlorn glaze over his eyes as though he’s not present, completely lost in thought.

“Are you okay?”

Sukuna blinks twice, coming back to the present. A knot forms between his brows, as though he’s offended you might suggest he isn’t. “‘M fine.”

He’s lying, but you have no right to the truth, so you accept it with a nod.

No longer distracted, he runs a hand through his spiked hair, pushing a few loose strands back off of his forehead. His attention returns fully to you, though with a glance down at your white blouse, he wrinkles his nose.

“What?” You ask, looking down only to find yourself mirroring his expression. “Oh.”

Your blouse is a downright mess of snot and tears and while the tears will dry… well the same can’t be said for the snot. You frown, heading to the sink to wet a washcloth.

“Don’t bother,” Sukuna grumbles, striding into a room down the hall that you assume is his. He re-emerges a moment later with the first shirt he could find that doesn’t have the sleeves cut off. You reach out for the material as he tosses it to you.

“Thanks,” you smile, a faint heat rising to your cheeks at the prospect of wearing his shirt. Ducking away quickly to the washroom, you pull your blouse over your head and replace it with the black T-shirt, looking down at the material flowing over your body and thighs. You can’t help but giggle at the sight while Sukuna’s scent invades your senses, a comforting smokey and woodsy smell that makes you dizzy.

Straightening the shirt over your body, you nod to yourself in the mirror before re-emerging into the main living space. You can make out Sukuna’s form leaning over the balcony railing with no jacket on, even in the freezing weather. He catches a glimpse of you from the corner of his eye, taking a long final drag from his cigarette before he stubs it out in an ashtray and steps back inside.

“I think it’s a little big on me,” you giggle in reference to the shirt, cheeks remaining warm as you gingerly link your hands behind your back, rocking forward and back on your heel.

The tattooed man’s eyes trail the length of your body, the red of his irises disappearing as he does so. You cross your arms over yourself, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his sharp gaze.

He clears his throat, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, well. I’m six foot eleven, and you’re fuckin’ short.” He averts his gaze, willing his dick not to react right now. He’s already well aware of his attraction to you, and he’s sure that if he just found the time to get laid he could bury that feeling. What’s more important is that he considers you to be someone genuinely important in his life, regardless of the fact that he can’t give you a label. He’s not about to jeopardize whatever he has with you because of how hot you are and how much his dick is well aware of it.

He’s seen the looks you give him, too. Every hitch of your breath, every nervous glance away from him. He knows there’s a mutual attraction between you, but it’s one that no matter how much his sex drive seems to disagree, he knows he can’t pursue. There’s more to your connection than sex, and one night isn’t worth the effort he’s put into fixing things with you.

He can’t put a name to that connection, but he values it regardless.

“Type… O Negative?” You interrupt Sukuna’s thoughts, reading the bold green logo on the shirt as your eyes trace the heart monitor logo in matching green beneath the text. Most of the band shirts he wears have logos with the most bizarre font they’re nearly unreadable, so you can’t help but wonder if this is even a band at all. Meeting his gaze again, you tilt your head.

Sukuna’s cock twitches in his sweats. Shit, he should have worn jeans. He coughs into his elbow, leaning back against the table in an effort to hide his growing need. “They’re a band.”

“Oh, cool!” You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners.

Getting up suddenly, Sukuna mutters something about needing to get ready for work and saunters off, leaving you standing by the table alone. You shrug it off, attempting to roll up the sleeves of the shirt and tuck it into the waistband of your leggings as best as you can in the hopes of making yourself look less like you’re in pajamas. Once you’re satisfied with the best look you think you can pull off, you take a seat at the table and begin putting together your cue cards.

Throwing yourself into your studies, you begin going through your cue cards in silence until Sukuna returns a short while later. The locks over his forehead are damp and he’s in a clean set of navy coveralls when he sits at the table beside you.

“What leaders made an effort to end the Cold War?” He quizzes, leaning over the table without so much as a glance at your cue cards.

“Reagan!”

“And?”

“Um- Gorbachev…?”

“Atta girl,” Sukuna smirks, giving your shoulder a light shove as your eyes light up, cheeks noticeably warm.

“Thank god I’m getting somewhere with all this studying,” you chuckle to yourself, straightening your cue cards. “I’m so burnt out on schoolwork,” you sigh, dropping the cards to the table.

“Why not take a break then?” Sukuna asks through a yawn.

“I can’t,” you frown, offering no further explanation. His brow arches questioningly. “I still need your help.”

His eyes flicker between yours, before dropping to your cue cards. “No ya don’t. You know the material and you’ve got cue cards for the shit you don’t remember. You’re set.”

You follow his gaze to the colorful cards with your handwriting scrawled over them in black ink. “You think so?”

“‘Course. You’re smarter than I am.”

The burly man leans forward over the table on his palm, yawning as silence sets in while you glance over your study materials. It doesn’t take long before you realize he’s in a trance, staring blankly straight ahead with a familiar distant expression.

Frowning, you have to resist the urge to reach out and pull him towards you. Maybe it’s because you’ve spent so much time with his brothers, but something about the idea of pulling him into a comforting hug feels right.

As though your body is actively working against you, your hand instinctively reaches for him. Sukuna’s gaze reflexively locks onto your hand that rests on his bicep, rubbing his tensed arm. A muscle works in his jaw as his irises flit up to you, something unreadable gleaming in his intense stare.

At the realization that you did reach out after all, you hesitantly pull back, somewhat surprised he didn’t smack your hand away in irritation. “Sorry, I…” But you have no excuse, so you trail off, awaiting his reaction.

Sukuna makes a show out of rolling his eyes, using his free hand to pull your hand back down to his bicep before leaning forward over the table and resting his chin over his elbow. He yawns again, his muscles slowly relaxing beneath your hand. You smile softly as Sukuna accepts your comfort, accepts you, and simply enjoy the comfortable silence while you use your spare hand to go through your cue cards.

His eyes are heavy as he stares blankly out the window opposite the table, the lull of sleep threatening to pull him under. As much as Sukuna hates to admit it, there’s little more tempting as of late than simply sleeping through his problems, and his mind goes blank as he eventually gives in to the temptation.

Sukuna’s breathing steadies beneath your hand, and you count your blessings that you’ve watched the kids during this shift before and you know that he has twenty minutes before he needs to leave. It might be the first time you’ve seen Sukuna completely relaxed, his jaw slack and shoulders loose. Pink strands of hair fall over his forehead, his lips only slightly parted as he breathes softly.

You gently rub circles into his arm, smiling softly at just how comfortable he’s grown with you. It touches you to see him able to simply be around you in such a way. Although you’d be lying to say you don’t want more than what you have with him, you’re grateful you have anything at all given his icy disposition. You’ve come a long way from the one-word answers and constant frustration.

Even if it’s always under the guise of an equivalent exchange, you’re glad he allows you to help him. Ever since you’ve been watching his little brothers more, he doesn’t seem as tired all the time (not that this particular moment proves that point), and you’re seeing more and more glimpses of the side of him most don’t get to see.

Your heart does a flip as his muscles twitch in his sleep beneath your fingers. He’s always trusted you on a relatively surface-level given that he lets you watch his brothers, but falling asleep under your touch is a surprising level of intimacy and reliance.

It’s a shame that twenty minutes passes so fast as you squeeze his arm in an effort to wake him.

“Stop,” he grumbles, swatting your hand away. Well, the peace can’t last forever you suppose. You give him another shake, which he certainly doesn’t appreciate. “What’d I just fuckin’ say?”

“You have work soon, Sukuna,” you giggle, giving him another shove. He cracks an eye open, his brow pulled down in a grumpy frown. He lifts his head slowly, squinting groggily at you with the imprint of the fabric of his coveralls on his cheek. You have to suppress another giggle at the disheveled glower being thrown at you.

“Fuck me,” he grumbles, rolling his shoulders before he pushes himself up from the table. He pushes his hair from his forehead and saunters around the apartment as he gathers what he needs before throwing on his coat.

“Oh, hey, where’s Choso?” You query as Sukuna fiddles with his keys.

He shrugs. “In his room, probably. He doesn’t like when Yuji cries.”

That makes sense from what you know of the middle sibling.

“Oh. He has homework due, can you make sure he does it?” Sukuna asks as he opens the front door. You nod. “I owe you one.”

Never a thank you with Sukuna, always him owing you.

“See you later, Kuna!”

The door shuts behind him and you let out a sigh, going to check on the two young boys. You knock on the door that’s slightly ajar, poking your head into their room when Yuji tells you to come in. There’s a mess of colored threads, strings, and beads strewn over a desk that they’re both crowded around, while Choso’s homework is buried beneath the mess of craft supplies.

Yuji hops off the chair and opens the door wider for you. Grinning, you let him tug you over to their table. Standing behind them both, you peer at what looks like a pile of (attempted) bead lizards with feet that don’t quite make sense.

“How are you both doing?” You figure after the tension when you walked into the apartment, they could probably use the opportunity to do a mental check-in with you. It’s not like Sukuna would be up for it, so you may as well try with his brothers.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says as he fiddles with thread, not looking up from the very important lopsided lizard in his tiny hands. His tongue pokes out from the side of his mouth as he focuses on his craft.

“I know Yu, Kuna just has a lot going on right now. It’s okay,” you rub his back gently before turning your attention to his brother, “Choso?”

The dark-haired brother chews on his lip as he slides beads onto a thread. “I’m okay. I don’t like when they fight.” Deep in thought, his movements pause before he pulls two threads tight to keep the beads from falling off and sets a purple lizard head on the desk. “Um- I found this.”

He shoves some stray threads aside and hands you a familiar corner of paper addressed to his older brother adorned with a law firm logo. “I saw this,” you tell Choso, rounding the table to his side in an attempt to keep his brother from being involved. It’s not like he’s old enough to understand either way. “Do you know anything about it?”

He shakes his head.

“Me either,” you tell him. “If your brother wants to tell me, then he will. I’m sure everything’s okay,” you reassure despite not being so sure yourself. Sukuna is strong-willed, smart, and beyond capable. Most could never manage what he’s pulling off, but a lawsuit is another issue entirely. Sukuna’s got a mouth on him and a penchant for fighting if the rumors are true, so you can only imagine what trouble he’s gotten himself into.

Choso picks his lizard back up, sliding three purple beads onto one side of the string. “Okay.” He threads the other side back through the beads and pulls the string tight to keep them in place. “I trust you.”

You smile, ruffling his hair. “Do you need help with the feet?” You ask with a glance at the lizards with lopsided and mismatched feet.

“Please!”

“Yes!”

You can worry about Choso’s homework in a bit. For now, you think both kids could use some time relaxing and doing some crafts as you pull up a chair.

–

Sukuna drags a hand down his face as he enters his apartment to the sound of two kids who are still very awake. Excited screams fill the apartment, alongside your saccharine voice that he can only assume is attempting to corral the kids based on your stern tone.

Dropping his keys on the table at the door, he kicks his boots to the side and shrugs his coat off, ready for a shower and dead silence alone in his room more than anything. He trudges tiredly towards the washroom, his lips twitching into a frown as Yuji goes bolting past him, followed closely by Choso.

“Go to bed, brats!” He hisses, his voice gruff with irritation as he makes his way to the washroom.

You barely manage to see the door closing behind your friend as you trail after the two boys, who’ve been balls of energy all night since Choso finished his homework. It’s sweet, of course, but your burnt out mind wasn’t prepared for them to have this much energy when you agreed to watch them.

As both boys turn and come barreling past you, you barely manage to catch Yuji and hoist him up into your arms, effectively stopping their game of tag.

“Nooooooooo!!” Yuji cries out between excited giggles. Choso skids to a halt in front of you with a disappointed frown.

“Come on, kiddos. You have school tomorrow, it’s bedtime.”

You’re met with a chorus of whines and sighs as you carry Yuji to their room. Choso trails close behind, pouting as you instruct them to get ready for bed. You help Yuji with pulling his hoodie over his head and choosing a pair of pajamas before giving them time to finish getting ready.

Yuji bursts from the door in a fit of giggles, running towards the cracked door of Sukuna’s room. “Yuji, come on it’s bedti-” you call after him as you follow him through the cracked door, eyes widening at the sight of Sukuna shirtless, his hair damp and hanging over his forehead. He must have finished his shower while you were trying to get his brothers to calm down. He shoots both of you an irritated snarl, his lip curled in frustration. “Sorry!” You squeak out, corralling Yuji out the door before Sukuna can bark out an order to get out of his room.

Your heart pounds, mind distant as you manage to get both kids into bed and read them Green Eggs and Ham. Once they’ve settled and you’re certain they’ll get some rest, you’re able to leave their room with a sigh, heading back to the main living space of the apartment, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to have made his way out of his room yet.

He doesn’t seem to be in the greatest mood and you consider taking your leave without a word, but figure that’s probably more rude than simply knocking on his door. Deciding to do exactly that, you make your way over to his bedroom and lightly tap his door with your knuckles.

“Come in.”

You push the door open, standing stiffly just within the frame. His room is decorated fairly dark with blacks, grays, and reds, only the dim light of a single lamp illuminating the room enough to be seen. There’s a desk pushed to one end of the room covered in workout gear, books, and various art supplies and a pile of clothes tossed over the desk chair, while his wardrobe off to the right is covered in hygiene supplies with only a single photo that you can’t make out in the relative dark. The light from his bedside lamp hardly illuminates the posters and art on his walls, which seem to be a variety of band posters, horror film posters, and his own art. There’s a drafting table opposite his wardrobe absolutely plastered in art supplies as well, with charcoal smeared over the wood.

“You just gonna stand there lookin’ like a fish outta water?” Sukuna asks from where he’s leaning against the headboard of his bed in the center of the room. His nose is buried in his laptop, the dull glow lighting up his features. Crimson irises gleam like deep drops of blood as you round the room, taking a look around as you realize he is genuinely inviting you in. As you step towards his wardrobe, your eyes train on the photo that you can now make out in the dim light.

There’s an older man with hair that matches Yuji and Sukuna’s standing to one side of the photo. Toddler Yuji is sound asleep with his head on the man’s shoulder, with Choso in the center in a graduation cap. You assume it must be an elementary school graduation or something of the sort. Sukuna stands much taller than everyone else in the photo at the back with a mild expression. He’s noticeably taller, with no facial tattoos although you can faintly make out his neck tattoos.

In the corner of the image, there’s a piece missing, and you can see that at one point there was a woman in the side of the photo, her dress visible behind Choso. Her face has been cut out of the photo and you can’t make out a single feature aside from the end of her hair. It looks fairly similar to Choso’s, long and dark. You figure this must be their parents, and Sukuna isn’t fond of his mother.

“He was a lot better with them.” You glance back at Sukuna as he shuts his laptop, setting it on his bedside table. It’s then that you realize he’s still shirtless, your gaze falling way too obviously down to his sculpted abdomen. He looks like a goddamn sculpture by Michaelangelo himself, made by a god in his craft. The peaks and valleys of his abs could make even the strongest person’s mouth water and you would be lying if you said it wasn’t a great effort to tear your gaze from his abs. Now’s not the time. Swallowing hard, you find his eyes.

Sukuna would usually smirk, finding amusement in your inability to keep your eyes on his face, but the can of worms he’s just opened isn’t one he approaches lightly. He’s willingly offering up a piece of his vulnerability to you, leaving the ball in your court.

“That’s your dad?” You ask, turning to look at the photo again.

“Mhm. He put in a lotta when their mom left to work in another country.”

“Their mom? You’re half-brothers, then?” You carefully approach the bed, taking a seat gingerly at the side.

“Yeah. Our dad sure knew how to pick ‘em.” There’s a story there for sure, but he’s already moving on before you can pry. “He knew how to handle the brats. They were happy.”

You slide further onto the bed, leaning against the headboard beside him. “They’re happy with you too, Sukuna.”

His eyes slowly slide down from the ceiling to meet your gaze. He contemplates your words for a moment, a forlorn sigh parting his lips. “It ain’t the same.”

You shuffle to face him, sitting cross-legged as you will your eyes to stay on his face. “Sukuna, you’re good with them. You care and you’re trying, that’s what matters.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Good with them, my ass.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You saw what happened earlier. Choso was afraid of me n’ Yuji was cryin’.” He drags his hand down his face. “Shit’s a disaster here. I’m never even home to look after ‘em.”

You blink as he airs his grievances with the world, with himself. “You’re joking, right?”

Sukuna’s head lolls dramatically towards you, face tense with frustration. “Do I look like I am, princess?”

A shiver runs up your spine but you keep your eyes (and mind) straight on his face. “Seriously, you are good with them. You’re allowed to be frustrated, just like Yuji’s allowed to be afraid. He’s a kid, he’s gonna make a big deal out of little things.” You offer a sympathetic smile. “And Choso’s not afraid of you. He’s worried about you.”

“Worried about what?” Sukuna’s face scrunches in confusion. “The fuck is a twelve-year-old doin’ worrying about me?”

You giggle at his brutish expression, diffusing his frustration. He blows a breath out through his lips, running a hand through his hair that’s gradually drying as you speak. The silence that envelops the both of you is calm, the lamp providing an air of warmth as you work through Sukuna’s worries. The soft orange glow of the bulb illuminates his features in such a handsome manner that it’s hard to sit next to him without stray thoughts.

“Choso may only be twelve, but he’s smart. He knows something’s off. We both do.”

His eyes shoot up, his stare intensifying. “Nothing’s off,” he growls sternly, as if trying to convince himself.

“So Yuji gets his lying habits from you, huh?” You tease, keeping your voice soft as you prod at his thigh.

“I’m not lying, fuck off with that,” he grouses, swatting your hand away. You quietly giggle to yourself again, paying no mind to his pointed stare.

“Was your dad this stubborn too?”

You’re not shocked that Sukuna’s response to your teasing is to roll his eyes, but he still entertains a response. “No. He was a teacher, he had the patience of a god.”

“That’s right, he was a history teacher, wasn’t he?”

“Mm.”

“Was he an artist too?”

“No. That’s all me.”

You slide up the bed, inching somewhat closer to him again as you lean back against the headrest, looking around the room at the art above his drafting table. “You’re a great artist, Kuna.”

He hums, following your gaze to the wall where he’s plastered anatomy practice and art of faceless figures. He doesn’t get much time to work on any art these days, but given the opportunity, he would certainly do it more.

His gaze drifts to your face, so calm and inquisitive in spite of his frosty and rough edges. You hardly seem bothered by anything he throws your way, accepting his relative rudeness in stride and he’s not sure he deserves that kindness. No, he knows he doesn’t. Still, sitting here with you, bathed in the soft light of his lamp, he finds himself seeking the comfort of your voice, so soft and understanding as you offer him genuine advice and listen to his gripes without belittling him.

You come from a world so obviously different from his, yet you never seem to see him as anything less than what he is. Hell, you see him as something more than he sees in himself, as much as he hates to admit it. Maybe that’s why he finds himself drawn to you. Maybe that’s why your absence caused him so much trouble.

In truth, he’s not so sure anymore.

There’s a lot he’s not so sure about anymore.

He basks in the silence, sighing deeply as he slumps further back against the headboard. “I think they might be better off in the hands of someone else.”

Your eyes widen, your head whipping over to stare at him. “What? You don’t seriously think that.”

“Do I sound like I’m making a fuckin’ joke?” He huffs, his jaw tense.

“Sukuna, you’re literally their hero. They look up to you more than you could ever imagine.”

He blanches, all signs of irritation dropped as his brow twitches and lips part. The expression on his face is unreadable, a mix of emotions that aren’t familiar on his chiselled features. With a sharp intake of breath, he shuts his eyes, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Kuna?”

“Gimme a moment, fuck.” His voice is muffled through his hands, remaining frozen as he lets out a long sigh. When he drops his hands from his face, he stares down at his lap with that same distant and solemn expression from earlier. You let the silence be at his request, giving him a chance to work through his jumbled thoughts.

Breathing in through his nose, he lets out a breath through pursed lips, his hand reaching for your leg as he squeezes the plush of your thigh. His jaw clenches as he clings to you like a lifeline, the only thing able to ground him and keep him from the thoughts that have been causing him to go through three times his usual dose of nicotine.

And fuck, he cannot afford to keep going through cigarettes at that rate.

Your mind is doing circles at the feeling of his touch on your leg of all places, the heat of his skin warming your leggings.

Blinking, you tilt your head to get a better view of him. “Where’s this all coming from anyway? What happened to the cocky asshole I met a couple of months ago?”

That seems to bring him back as he scowls at you, deflecting your question. “Really runnin’ your mouth for someone whose dinner came from my fridge.”

“Hey! I consider that payment for watching your brothers. Besides, my cooking is great. You should be happy I made you leftovers,” you pout.

He smirks, playfully squeezing your thigh and sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You swallow to keep yourself from having a noticeable reaction, keeping your attention on a non-descript area of the wall. “Who’s the cocky one now, princess?”

Even with his hand heavy on your thigh, his teasing is so normal that it almost makes you forget that the heat between your legs is begging for friction that you can’t chase because he would feel your thighs clench.

“What can I say? My cooking’s that good.”

“Your cooking ends up on my fucking floor most of the time.”

“The bread crumbs were one time, Sukuna,” you whine, playfully shaking your head.

“From you, maybe. Choso tried to copy your mac and cheese and even convinced my dumb ass he knew how to do it.” Sukuna scoffs, tilting his head towards you. The warmth of his breath fans your neck as he leans in. “D’you know what happened?” He asks, his voice lowered enough to make your heart flutter.

You wince. “Bread crumbs on the floor.”

“Bread crumbs on the fuckin’ floor.”

You bring a hand up to your face, giggling. To your surprise, Sukuna’s chest jolts in a single sputtered laugh, until he’s actually chuckling along with you. Not a smug laugh, not making fun of something, your laughter is contagious and his is genuine.

Comfortable silence finds you, simply enjoying one another’s company. The dull light in his lamp flickers, pulling both of your attention to the bulb on its last legs. Your eyes trail the length of his silhouette, admiring the way his tattoos frame his face. The dark contrast of the solid ink makes the crimson of his irises pop, giving his already sharp features a more deadly appearance.

Everything about him seems to signify a lethal edge; between the way he carries himself, shutting the world out and fending only for himself and his brothers, and his inclination towards frustration. Yet, every so often, you see another side to him, a side where the edges are softer and he seems more himself.

That’s not to say those rougher edges aren’t still there, but the calmer side of him rounds him out and makes his snark more endearing.

Sukuna’s the first to turn back from the lamp, gaze flickering between your eyes. His chest rises and falls, the quiet sounds of his breath punctuating the otherwise silent room.

Sukuna can hear your breath hitch when you realize he’s staring, using the opportunity to squeeze your thigh. It pulls a strangled gasp from deep in your chest and your eyes widen. He can’t help himself, the way your body reacts to him is like a narcotic, and he can’t help but want more.

There’s never been a moment since you met that Sukuna hasn’t known you find him attractive. It’s why he enjoys pushing your buttons so much, but when you slipped so easily alongside him in his personal life, you became something more than a quick fuck. Someone to keep around. Someone who betters him.

In the dim glow of his lamp, laid out on his bed with his palm splayed over your thigh like it belongs there, something deeper stirs within him. Lust, surely. Only lust. You’re in his goddamn shirt, and he’s hungry. He’s starved for the feeling of bare skin slapping against his own, and you’re so damn gorgeous, like a cloud to any amount of judgment he can manage.

And you’re no better. You’ve been biting your lip until it’s raw as you resist the urge to clench your thighs since he invited you in. Sukuna’s not a traditional man, in all of your daydreams and fantasies, you had never imagined him treating you to dinner and romantically confessing. You never had broad expectations for anything extravagant from him.

That’s not what you want from him. You just want him as he is. You want him to let you in, to let you help him find himself and find happiness.

The air around you is charged, crackling with anticipation as his barriers begin to degrade and you let out a shaky breath. The world seems to hold its breath around you, the bustling city so quiet you could hear a pin drop as its noise fades into the background.

Sukuna’s tongue swipes over his lower lip, all reason thrown to the wolves as he leans over you and presses his lips to yours.

His lips are commanding, guiding you towards one thing and one thing only: pleasure. He moves his body over top of yours, caging you beneath his muscular build. You’re so small under him and the control he exerts over you is exhilarating.

The kiss is sloppy, filled with desperation as he settles himself over you, letting his hands roam your body. You’re pliant beneath him, thrilling in the way his hands slide down your waist to your hips. His grip tightens, fingers holding you in-place almost bruisingly. Your pussy throbs, clenching around nothing as slick pools between your thighs.

Consequences be damned, you’re both addicted to the taste and feel of one another.

Sukuna softly bites your lower lip, pulling a whimper from deep in your throat. He smirks against your lips, pressing his hardened bulge against your core. He swallows your gasp, running his tongue along your lower lip as he seeks entrance. You grant him what he’s looking for, drunk on his taste, minty with a hint of smoke.

Sliding your hands up his tense arms, you find purchase in gripping his shoulders as your head spins. He rolls his hips again, revelling in the feel of your nails digging into his bare skin. Getting your bearings, you allow your hands to explore the expanse of his chest, roaming down the high peaks and deep valleys of his extremely pronounced abs. You pause at his waistband, unable to help your smirk as he groans, his abdomen tensing under your touch.

He’s desperate for more, pressing you further into the bed as his lips explore your jaw, dipping his head into your neck to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to grant him easier access, jaw slack and eyes glazed. His breath noticeably quickens when your fingers dip beneath his waistband, but you pause there.

You pull back suddenly, pushing hard against his chest as you practically have to peel him off of you.

“What’re-”

You slap a palm over his mouth, muffling the rest of his question until he can hear why you’ve paused. The sound of sock-clad footsteps on hardwood catches his attention and he quickly pulls away, putting enough distance between you to imply innocence. Sukuna pulls a pillow out from behind him, grunting as he sets it on his lap and leans his head back against the headboard.

Shortly after, the doorknob clicks and cracks open, a pair of golden-brown eyes peering into the room. Reddened and filled with tears, your mind sobers quickly as you hop off the bed and jog over to Choso to kneel before him.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You ask, taking in a breath to keep from panting.

“I had a nightmare.”

Ah. Sukuna had mentioned Choso had been having a lot of nightmares lately and it seemed to be keeping him up. You wonder if it’s related to his concerns regarding his older brother and the lawsuit. He may be young, but he seems to have a general understanding of the gravity of getting lawyers involved in situations.

Knowing what you know now about Sukuna’s family, you wonder if he’s been around lawyers before, given their father’s passing. Then there’s the question of Choso and Yuji’s mother, who’s clearly not in the picture anymore.

Quite literally.

You cast another glance back at Sukuna, whose chest is rising and falling heavily as he stares at the ceiling.

“That’s okay sweetheart, do you want me to come talk to you for a bit?”

Choso glances briefly at his brother before nodding. Smiling softly at him, you usher him out of the room and shut the door behind you, trailing after Sukuna’s little brother. He leads the way to his room, sitting on his bed.

Kneeling at the side of his bed, you keep your voice to a whisper to avoid waking his brother. “Did you want to talk about it, Cho?”

He considers this option for a moment, staring at his hands in his lap before shaking his head.

“That’s alright.” You smile reassuringly. “Your brother mentioned this has been happening a lot lately. I just want you to know you can talk to me if you need.”

Choso hesitates, staring down at his hands in his lap again, before shaking his head.

“That’s fine too. Do you want me to-”

“Chocho?” Yuji’s groggy voice sounds as he flips in his bed against the opposite wall, calling out your name as well.

“Go back to sleep, Yu. Your brother just had a nightmare,” you smile softly in the darkness of the room, your face illuminated only by a nightlight on the wall. You turn back to Choso. “Do you want me to read something until you fall back to sleep? I won’t let any monsters get you,” you reassure him with a grin.

Choso nods slowly.

“Great, what book?”

Choso peers over at the bookshelf, kicking his feet as he skims the titles on each spine. “I’ve already read all of these.”

Frowning, you tap your fingers on your thigh in thought. That had never stopped him from requesting Bridge to Terabithia before, but you suppose that’s neither here nor there at the moment.

What is with his taste in movies and books, why does he like the most heart wrenching titles?

“I could tell you a story,” you decide. Choso’s demeanor picks up as he nods eagerly, getting back in bed. You glance back at Yuji, who’s still quietly watching you. You suppose telling them a story won’t hurt. Pulling up a chair, you take a seat between the beds. “Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort. Which would only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle, guarded by a terrible fire breathing dragon.”

You do your best to focus on your story-telling, although sitting in the dark waiting for the kids to fall asleep as you try to recall the story, something stirs in the back of your mind.

Something dread-inducing and sobering.

You would be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined your first kiss with Sukuna, dreamt of it in the back of your mind and forcibly pushed it down. It only made sense that Sukuna’s flirting was mainly out of jest and teasing, so you had swallowed your feelings and been what Sukuna needed the most. A friend.

Now with the time to think clearly, it occurs to you that there was no spark, no fireworks, and no romance behind the way you kissed. Neither of you had been chasing anything beyond surface-level lust, and you’re just as guilty as he is.

It’s painful to think that the image you’d had in the back of your mind for so long isn’t the reality, but that’s life, isn’t it? You may get another side of Sukuna that most don’t, but at the end of the day, you suppose that doesn’t mean he shares the feelings you caught for him. You had every opportunity to clarify what you wanted from him, but instead you slipped your fingers under his waistband.

Fuck.

Your heart clenches, your chest tightening at the realization that your friendship with Sukuna could very easily hang by a thread because you both got caught up in one another.

“The ogre and the donkey travel to…” you trail off at the realization that both kids are sound asleep, slipping out of the room with a pit of dread in your stomach.

With a sharp intake of air, you let out a breath and quietly open Sukuna’s room door.

“Hey…”

“Hey.” Sukuna hasn’t moved since you left the room.

Silence punctuates the air, the tension palpable and just as uncomfortable as you could have predicted. The friendship with Sukuna that you had worked so hard to nurture seems to hang precariously in the balance of discomfort and regret.

“Was that story fuckin’ Shrek?” Sukuna asks with narrowed eyes. It does little to quell the unease hanging low over your heads.

You laugh nervously. “Yeah. I didn’t know what story to tell.”

“Do you have the fuckin’ opening memorized?”

“I guess so,” you chuckle again, unable to meet his gaze. The silence spreads once again. “Um- I should go.”

Sukuna doesn’t know what to say. He shouldn’t have kissed you. He shouldn’t have grinded on you.

He doesn’t want to complicate something he doesn’t quite understand himself.

So why the hell does his stomach drop when those words leave your lips? Lips that were on his barely a half hour ago.

The uncertainty of where you sit with one another lies in the distance between you both. It settles like dust over a table left untouched for many years, yet it accumulated in only a few minutes. You want to reach out and find the answers you’re looking for, but you don’t have words.

What the hell are you supposed to say? You’ve hopelessly fallen for him and you don’t want whatever it is you have to end, even at the cost of unrequited feelings? No, Sukuna would push you away.

Sukuna doesn’t even attempt to clear the dust, he can only stare, wondering what’s going through your mind, because what’s going through his makes no sense to him.

Whatever it is that he’s feeling now, it’s a jumbled mess. It’s not the same distress he felt at the thought of you presenting alone and it’s not the lust he’d chased that left him with a painful erection.

Whatever he feels, it’s some sort of warning. Like an omen that he’s somehow fucked things up again with you, tearing a rift through the friendship that even he has worked hard to mend. He wonders if one heated kiss is enough to dissolve the effort he’d put into everything, if this changes what you had for good.

So why the hell are the next words to part his lips “yeah. See ya.”?

Watching you slip away, listening to you pack your belongings in a hurry and slip out the door without even a goodbye, Sukuna grits his teeth and slams his head back against the headboard. If the ground split open and swallowed him whole right now, he thinks he would prefer that to the sound of the front door shutting.

Fuck. Fuck, he did it again.

How many times would you let him fuck up your friendship before you deemed him not worth the time of day?

Shit, he hopes you’ll let him make it up to you once more, even if he’s not sure he deserves it.

What the hell was he thinking, anyway? Or, more likely, not thinking? Was he so driven by a need to wet his dick that he seeked out the one person he couldn’t bear to watch walk away from him?

Why is it that he can’t keep his mind clear when it comes to you?

Sukuna rubs his hands over his face. “Fuck.” Should he chase after you? No, no. He can’t have you thinking there’s any meaning behind his actions beyond whatever it was you already had.

And even he knows how fucked up of a thought that is, one that sits in the pit of his stomach like sour bile. He grimaces, blinking at the foreign feeling of guilt wrapping its ugly fingers tightly around him.

He pulls out his laptop, opening the email chain you’ve been using since the two of you met, but his fingers pause over the keyboard. What the hell is he supposed to say? ‘Sorry for kissing you’? ‘Sorry for thinking with my dick instead of my head’?

“Fuck,” he hisses, louder this time. Tossing his laptop on his bed, he trudges out into the living room, grabbing the broken cap of his lighter and its base from his coat pocket, and what’s left of his pack of cigarettes before standing out in the cold night air in only his sweatpants.

The nicotine hardly seems to make a dent in the toiling emotions tightening his chest and hollowing his stomach. He’s smoked his way through so many packs lately that the dent on his wallet and his reliance on the drug only seems to be growing, yet another pile of problems to add onto his list.

You’re the only thing that seems to quell his narcotic addiction, but you’ve got to be some sort of drug yourself with the way Sukuna behaves like a braindead dumbass around you.

Staring at the ember at the end of the cigarette in his hand, he sighs, leaning forward on the railing of the balcony. The cold doesn’t seem to touch him, like he’s numb to the world beyond his own issues.

Sukuna is a truly fucked man.

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❦ a/n ; poor sukuna and reader do nawwwt know how to make things easy on themselves 🙂‍↔️ thank you all so much for reading and for all the love and kind comments and asks, they seriously make my day and i'm so happy to chat with yall and hear your thoughts. shoutout as well to my reader who suggested a type o negative shirt cameo, this one's for you <33 reader is stronger than i am for not leaping on sukuna when he invited her into his room shirtless tbh. i am weak for him ANYWHO thaaank you as always and i hope you're all doing well <33

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captain-huggy-bear · 12 days ago

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In The Firing Line

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Lil' bit of hurt/comfort, lil' bit of angst, lil' bit of panic

Summary: You break up a fight at your school getting hurt in the process. There's only one person you want to call in that situation.

Notes: I have in fact been punched in the line of duty as a teacher and while it's not common it is truly a scary experience and I very much wish I had a Quinn to pick up the pieces when those things happen.

Another kinda angsty one? I keep putting the reader through some stuff in this series, I promise teaching is not always this eventful...please don't be scared of it <3

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

There are some dangers to your job, hazards you might say...while generally speaking teaching is a safe profession except for your stress levels, the reality is you're dealing with human beings who aren't yet capable of fully regulating their emotions and thinking through their actions. So things happen...like fights...and fights are...unfortunately something you can't just ignore as a teacher. They are in fact something you have to actively deal with.

There's a deep seated desire not to get involved, a sense of self preservation that says don't stand in between two teenage boys who are going at each other. That unfortunately is overridden by two things: 1) The duty of care you have to keep your students safe and stop them hurting themselves or others and 2) Your genuine desire to not see any of your students hurt.

At this point in your career you work off of instinct. The moment Carl throws a punch at Gabriel, while you're in the middle of teaching mind you, you're ushering every other student out of your classroom with directions to find another teacher. That leaves you with 2 teenage boys flipping tables and intent on pummelling each other. Really, you'll later find out the fight is over something silly, Gabriel had talked to the girl that Carl liked, Carl had been told that Gabriel was flirting with her and talking shit about Carl. He wasn't. Later they'll both apologise to you profusely and their sets of parents will come in and apologise to you too, but in that moment? Your only concern is stopping the fight from progressing any further and stopping blood from being spilled.

Perhaps it's misguided, but in your experience getting in the middle works. Often students stop, pulling their punches out of fear of hitting an adult, like a sort of reset button. The fact that you're there usually does the trick. So that's exactly what you do, you wedge your significantly smaller self between two teenage boys who stand well over 6ft tall, one of whom is on the boxing team and the other on basketball team. You think this is a good idea, spoiler alert, it is most certainly not.

You misjudge this, it's almost like slow motion the way that Carl's fist comes towards you, his eyes seeming to widen as he processes that you're now in the way and in the line of fire. You have just enough time and thought to turn your back to him so that he doesn't hit you anywhere soft and vulnerable.

But, fuck does it hurt to have a junior boxing champ throw a solid punch straight at your shoulder blade. You jolt straight into Gabriel who breaks your potential fall and both boys fall dead silent, fight ended as quickly as it had began. Whatever haze of red had come over them completely diffused. All you can hear is a series of swear words followed by the sounds of some of your colleagues coming in to take both boys away.

You're dimly aware of one of the English teachers wrapping an arm around you and carting you down the corridor towards the staff room, of being sat in a comfortable chair and handed a warm drink that you have little desire to sip at.

"I think she's in shock..."

"She can't teach like this, can you talk to Lisa about covering her lessons for the day?"

"Should we phone someone?"

The conversation happening near you is practically underwater, dull sounding. You register it but you don't really hear it, words that go in one ear and out the other like water off a duck's back.

Your gaze fixes on your principle who crouches in front of you with a soft smile, "Y/N, do you want to phone someone? Get them to take you home, we're going to give you the rest of the day off, okay?"

You nod more out of instinct than anything else, you feel like you're underwater or not in your own body. Adrenaline still pulsing through your system, shock having hit you so hard that you don't feel real. You feel floaty, not really present.

When you're left alone, an empty staff room, you reach for your phone. You unlock it on autopilot, find the contact without really thinking and listen to it ring, once, twice before being picked up on the third ring. Reliable and steadfast as always, he never fails to answer the phone to you.

"Hey, baby, you okay?" Quinn's voice is soft, sweet but curious with an undercurrent of worry because you almost never phone him while you're at school. It's that that seems to break you, seems to dissolve the numb shock and bring forth the waterworks.

"No..." You can't help it, you're sobbing in an instant, breathing rapidly as the shock gives way to panic, like Quinn's voice broke the dam that had been holding your emotions in check. "I-I-I..."

"Breathe, baby! Hey, hey, breathe...you're okay, what happened?" You try to follow his instructions, but your breathing is still sharp, short, stunted. Every breath cutting itself off by the next. Each sob interrupting your words and your attempts to get a full breath in.

"Baby, listen to me, okay?" You try to tune into Quinn's voice, the steady stableness of it, the way he tries to keep it as even as possible, "Breathe with me, okay? Breathe in..." You listen to him as he instructs you on how to breathe, breathing in when says and out when he says until your own breathing is back to a point where you can at least talk, still the tears don't disappear.

It's like your body has finally realised it was in danger, like it's finally realised what happened. You're just thankful that the room is empty, that everyone else is teaching right now because you can't help but feel embarrassed as you cry over the phone to your boyfriend over something that feels silly in your mind. It was just a punch and it wasn't even intended for you, you probably won't even bruise....

"What happened, baby?"

"I...I tried t-to break up a fight..." Your shoulder aches now that some of the panic has worn off, right in the shoulder blade. A reminder of the fact you've been punched by a junior boxing champ.

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" You can tell he's worried, the stability of his voice disappearing in favour of concern but you stay silent...you don't want to make him worry... "Sweetheart...?"

"I...I got punched in the shoulder...I'm okay...I...I think." You don't want him to worry more than he already has, you know what Quinn is like...if he could wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you with him all the time he would. You know he supports you having your own life, own career, but he also hates you being unsafe in any way. You don't want him to worry especially when he's not around, the idea that he might worry when he's away on a roadie kills you inside.

"Has anyone had a look at you?"

"No...they want me to go home though..." Not like you have a proper nurse in school anyway, besides, you're certain you're just going to ache. You doubt there's any lasting damage.

"Okay, okay, give me 20 minutes? I'll get Petey to drop me off and I'll drive you home."

"You don't have to, Quinn..." You don't like feeling like a burden and that's how you feel right now. Quinn shouldn't be spending his day off picking you up from work and looking after you. He should be relaxing, enjoying the little free time he gets between games and practices, resting his own injuries like his hand that's still braced.

"Baby, respectfully, shut up. I'm going to get you, you aren't driving home, and we're going to spend the afternoon cuddling, okay?" You can't help but smile, wiping some of the tears that have tracked over your cheeks away, the salty taste on your tongue from where a few drops had hit your mouth.

"Okay...I love you."

"I love you too. Get your stuff ready and stop feeling like a burden. You're not. I love you, so I want to help you." You can't help but huff out a laugh at him calling you out for the thoughts you don't voice, because of course Quinn would know what you were thinking, of course he'd know you were feeling like a burden already.

"You know me too well." You roll your eyes, easing yourself up from the seat you'd been placed in earlier and making your way to the door knowing you need to venture to your room to grab your things. A little bit anxious about it, but knowing the students in question were likely already in isolation or the principle's office or been sent home after everything. Even though you know without a doubt Carl and Gabriel never intended for you to get hurt.

"That's my job, sweetheart."

"We've had this discussion before, your job is to hit a piece of vulcanised rubber around on the ice." Quinn's pretty certain you sassing him is a good sign that you're getting over the shock of being punched on the job, a good enough sign that he can't stop the laugh that comes out because at least you're okay.

"That's my paying job, not my proper job. My proper job is to look after you, baby."

"Mmm, do you want an ID badge for that?" Your classroom is empty when you get to it, students having been taken somewhere else for the period, most likely to the gym. It makes it easier for you to start grabbing your things without a million and one eyes on you.

"Yes please, and a lanyard."

"I'll get that printed for you right away," You're putting your work laptop away, grabbing your water bottle, phone balanced between your ear and your shoulder. Quinn finding away to calm you without even being in the room was something you were thankful for, while that well of anxiety still sat deep in your chest, you felt at least functional in that moment. More functional than when it first happened at least.

There's a beat of silence, where Quinn is unsure if he actually wants to come off the phone. Hearing you reassures him you're okay, not perfect, but okay...but he knows that to get Petey to pick him up he needs to actually say goodbye to you. A dilemma if he ever saw one.

"I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon...thank you, Quinny," You mean it, you always mean it. For a man who is so busy, so stressed all the time, he truly never failed to be there for you. You never thought twice about phoning him because you knew he'd pick up, knew he'd help no matter the situation, even if he wasn't around he'd find someone who could help. It was his reliability that always had you reaching for his number, even when past boyfriends had been last person you might have called. Quinn was always steady, always there, always on hand.

"Anytime, baby."

You're waiting in the car park when Petey's car drives up next to you, the window rolled down for the blonde man to give you a sympathetic smile.

"Hey, Petey..." You give him your best attempt at a smile but you know it's a weak one, his features scrunching in sympathy. You can see Quinn in the passenger seat, hoodie on, beanie over his hair.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?"

"I will be..." You answer as Quinn gets out of Petey's car, your smile starting to turn more genuine when Petey throws a bar of chocolate at you out the window. Not even just any chocolate, but the good stuff, European chocolate.

"Feel better soon, okay?"

"Thank you, Petey." You stand back as Quinn thanks Elias for the ride, tapping on the roof of the car as a sign it's okay for him to leave and you grasp the bar of chocolate tightly, feeling emotional over the thoughtful gesture.

That emotion spills over with one look from Quinn, tears starting to silently stream down your face as he pulls you into his warm arms. You feel so utterly safe the moment he does, your face pressing into his hoodie and just breathing in the scent of his cologne, the sea salt smell of his old spice deodorant. He practically traps you in his arms, trying to give you a sense of security and safety by wrapping you up tight, one hand coming to comb through the ends of your hair, the other stroking down your back in slow motions.

Quinn presses a kiss to your hair as he rocks you side to side, feeling the way your body shakes in his arms, the residual adrenaline left over from the whole affair coursing through your body. He knows better than most how your body responds after taking a hit, he's felt it time and time again on the ice, but the adrenaline usually gets worn off in play for him. For you? This is unfamiliar territory, unexpected and with no way to get all that adrenaline rush out of your system.

"I've got you, sweet girl...let it out, you're okay..." If there's one thing Quinn will always do, has always done, it's make sure you understand you can rely on him. That you don't need to hold back any of the ugly parts, the difficult parts, the raw parts, out of fear of being a burden. He doesn't care that his day is being spent stood in a school parking lot holding you while you cry, in fact he prefers it to the alternative, you pretending nothing happened, not telling him, crying on your own somewhere...

"Wanna go home, baby?" You nod into his chest, arms so tight around his waist that he almost worries he might not be able to breathe if you just squeeze a tad tighter. "Keys in your pocket?" You nod again and he slips his hand into your pocket, then the other one, fishing out your car keys.

The walk to your car is hindered by your refusal to come out from your spot hiding in his chest, you walk backwards while he walks forward. A strange sort of dance that shows just how much you trust him not to let you fall over.

It's obvious when he gets you to your car that you don't want to let go of him, that you feel safe surrounded by him in every sense of the word. Surrounded by his arms, surrounded by his hoodie, by his scent. But, Quinn is good at compromise, at finding solutions to problems, seeing the gaps in the defence and making a solid play.

"You want to wear my hoodie for the ride?" Your nod is all he gets and he's quick to strip himself of the oversized hoodie, pulling it over the top of your head and helping you work your arms into it. It's large on him and large on you, sleeves long enough to cover your hands, fabric billowing in a way that makes him think he could probably slip in there with you if he tried hard enough. He helps you pull the hood up and over your head, watching as you burying your face into the neck, breathing in the familiar smell of his cologne.

It's like hugging him when you can't and it helps you feel that comfort still when he can't hold you because he has to drive. You still feel surrounded by him, his body heat having infused the fabric, his scent in the cotton, the sheer size of the hoodie comforting you. It brings you security that you need right now.

"Better, baby?"

"Mmhm." You hum from within the hood, eyes wide and soft and it makes Quinn's heart ache a little to see you like this, so withdrawn, so needy because of something that shouldn't have happened in the first place. There's part of Quinn that wants you to stop working altogether, wants to just pay for you to put your feet up, relax and enjoy your hobbies but he knows you love your job despite the issues. He knows he could no more ask that of you than you could ask him to stop playing hockey because of the dangers associated with his career.

"Okay, let's get you home, yeah? Then I'm going to check you for a bruise, okay?"

Quinn's gentle with you as he opens the car door and helps you in, doing your seatbelt up for you and making sure you're as comfortable as possible for the ride. Your music plays the moment he starts the engine and you smile just a little when you watch him have to adjust the driver's seat, complaining that your legs are far too short.

That smile eases some of his worry but you can see his concern in the way his fingers alternate between tapping the steering wheel and gripping it tight between his palms, tight enough that his knuckles go white each time. Every now and then he reassures himself that you're okay by reaching a hand out for your thigh, palm squeezing the plush flesh once, twice, before returning back to the steering wheel.

You don't say much on the way into the apartment, just let him reach his hand back for yours, gripping it tightly with your smaller hand and letting him guide you through the apartment building hallways and through your front door. You let him guide you all the way to the bathroom until he has you in front of him under the bright florescent lights. Quinn's large palms run up and down the tops of your arms in gentle strokes as you peer at him from beneath his hood, still buried deep, breathing in his familiar smell.

"Let's take a look at you, baby, okay?" You nod and help him as he lifts the hoodie up and over your head, turning you around until your back is facing him. It's intimate but rather clinical, not the sort of undressing you might usually experience with Quinn and you appreciate that. You appreciate that he can see you undressed for practical reasons, genuine reasons without making it sexual or strange, you appreciate that Quinn's concern right now is making sure you're okay not the fact he can see your bra.

You can feel his hands glide over the skin of your back and shoulders, assessing, the careful way he looks you over as if a single touch might cause you more unnecessary pain.

"Has it bruised?" Your voice is rough from the crying and the period of silence you'd entered into and Quinn takes it as a good sign that you're starting to talk to him again.

"Yeah, baby, practically black and blue...the kid a boxing champ or something?" He means it as a joke, but the irony is that he's not wrong.

"Yeah, he was actually..."

"Shit, baby...stay here, 'm going to get some ice and paracetamol for that bruise, okay?" You let him go but the moment he's gone you're looking in the mirror, twisting your head round as far as possible to see what the damage it.

Quinn's not wrong, you're legitimately black and blue, your shoulder has a nice fist sized bruise that is already turning various shades of blue and purple, blood pooling under the skin. It explains why each roll of your shoulder aches like nothing else.

"Here, baby," Quinn returns to the bathroom with a tea towel filled with ice, pressing it against the bruise and holding it there. It's cold, uncomfortably so, causing you to hiss.

"s cold..." you mumble frowning at him in the mirror and Quinn gives you a sympathetic look and a quick, commiserating kiss to the top of your shoulder.

"I know, but it'll bring the swelling down, just a few minutes for me, baby?"

"Okay...a few minutes" You agree watching him tend to you in the mirror, downing the paracetamol he brought back for you from the first aid drawer he keeps in the kitchen. Quinn's attentive, even as he holds the ice filled towel to your skin he checks every now and then that he's not giving you freezer burn, that it's helping reduce the swelling and not actually hurting you more.

"Atta, girl," Quinn's free hand cups the back of your neck, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly, every now and then digging in to a sore spot to distract you from the uncomfortable cold sensation against your shoulder blade.

"Can we cuddle now?" You're patient for the first few minutes but that starts to wain as the cold becomes almost painful against your skin.

"Yeah, sweet girl, we can cuddle now...think you've earned it," Quinn throws the melting ice into the bathroom sink, hand trailing down to grip yours to tug you back to the bedroom.

He helps you change into comfy clothes before tugging you down into the bedcovers with him. You breathe a sigh of relief as you curl into his side, face pressed into the warm crook of his neck, leg slung over his waist. Quinn rests a hand on your thigh, pulling your leg tighter against him while his other hand finds its way into your hair, scratching gently across your scalp.

"You tired, baby?" You can't help but close your eyes at the way Quinn's fingers curl in your hair and run through each strand, burrowing as deep into his neck as you can as he pulls the covers up and over the top of the two of you to create a cosy little nest of warmth.

"Yeah...really tired..."

"Eventful day, huh?" You nod into his neck in agreement, feeling like your body has been through the mental and emotional wringer. There's the physical discomfort of being punched obviously, but the bigger issue is how emotionally exhausted you feel. Your nervous system having been put through fight or flight, only to have to come crashing down from that adrenaline high.

"You can sleep, baby, it's okay, I'll be here when you wake up..."

"You promise?"

"I promise, 'm not going anywhere." It's his reassurance, the firm but gentle hold on you that helps you fall asleep because you trust him, you believe him. You know that if Quinn says he'll be there when you wake up, then he'll be there.

#teacher reader x quinn #huggy bear writes #quinn hughes/reader #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl imagine #nhl x reader

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landososcar · 2 months ago

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tacky tree ; MV1

pairing(s) ; dad!max verstappen x leclerc!reader

summary ; in which it’s the most wonderful time of the year and the house is almost completely decorated – except for the most important part.

warnings ; probably incorrect translations, tacky christmas tree because they’re more fun! no use of y/n. not edited.

note ; it’s christmas season 🎉this is the first fic in my 12 days of christmas series! the masterlist with more details on the upcoming stuff will be out later (when i plan it all out lollll) enjoyyyy

“papa, when do we get to decorate the tree?” his son’s voice grabbed max’s attention and he immediately set down the fairy lights he was desperately trying to untangle.

max was trying his hardest to unravel the ball of string lights but it proved to be a harder task than what he had initially thought. his son stood in front of where he was sitting on the couch, impatiently waiting for the ‘go ahead’ to start putting his favourite ornaments on the tree, and max had to explain that “we can’t decorate the tree until we put the lights on, jules”.

a groan left the six-year-old boy’s mouth, he had been looking forward to decorating the tree the most of all. “grand-mère would have had the lights ready ages ago!” jules loved complaining – max often said he got his love for it from his uncle charles, and there was no real argument to the statement.

max chuckled softly at jules’ exclamation. “grand-mère also doesn’t have to deal with your sister trying to eat the lights,” he replied, glancing toward the corner of the living room where his four-year-old daughter was crouched. she held a tangled string of lights in her tiny hands, inspecting them with great curiosity.

“not eating, papa! i’m testing!” sophia chirped, her cheeks flushed pink with the excitement of the holiday season.

jules groaned again, this time dramatically collapsing onto the couch beside his father. “but we’ll never finish in time for santa to see it!”

“santa doesn’t come to check the tree, jules. he comes for the cookies and milk,” max reminded him with a smirk, “and to give boys and girls their presents.” max raised his eyebrows towards his son before continuing, “but only good boys who are patient,” he paused before getting up to save sophia from being engulfed by fairy lights, picking her up and putting her on his hip, “and good girls who don’t eat the lights for the christmas tree.”

before jules could fire back a sassy remark that would have reminded his father far too much of the boy’s uncle, a soft voice interrupted them from the kitchen. “have the two verstappen boys fixed the lights, or should i send in reinforcements?”

max turned to see you leaning against the doorframe, a tray of freshly baked cookies balanced in your hands. your warm smile was framed by loose strands of hair that escaped your festive headband. before you could continue to tease your boys, the six-year-old yelped, “mama! tell papa to hurry!” jules pleaded, scrambling to your side.

you laughed and ruffled his hair, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “let’s see if mama can work her magic.”

handing jules a cookie to keep him occupied, you sat where max was previously attempting to fix the mess of lights, and reached for the tangled lights. your fingers moved easily through the wires as you worked to untangle the mess, the cozy christmas scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air.

“mama is so clever, isn’t she?” max murmured to the girl on his hip, watching your nimble hands make quick work of the lights. sophia nodded quickly before leaning towards the plate of cookies as best as she could.

max noticed her attempt at thieving a cookie and endorsed it by leaning down, her body still flushed with hers as she reached with both her hands, snatching a cookie. before the girl could begin eating her cookie, max caused her to gasp as he took a small bite from the cookie in her tiny hands.

“mama’s like grand-mère!” jules shouted back, his eyes wide with admiration, “they can both do anything ‘cause they’re the best!” jules declared, his face lighting up with pride.

“careful, jules, if you keep saying things like that, you might just end up on the extra good list this year,” you teased, winking at him as he beamed.

within minutes, the lights were untangled, and you handed them back to max with a triumphant grin, scooping sophia into your arms in exchange. “voilà. now, get to it, boys,” you said, tickling sophia’s tummy to make her giggle before continuing, “while they do the lights, soph, let’s go find your favourite ornaments!”

sophia clapped her hands excitedly. “the sparkly star! and the reindeer!” she squealed, pointing toward the box of decorations.

before the two of you could walk off, max wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close, “i’ll admit, we’d be lost without you.” he left a kiss on your lips and both children protested.

“eww!” jules groaned, covering his eyes with both of his hands, while sophia, in dramatic fashion, pushed max’s face away with her tiny palms. “no kissies!”

laughing, you pried sophia’s hands off max’s face and carried her toward the decorations. “alright, no more kissies—let’s get this tree looking like a christmas masterpiece.”

while max and jules worked on stringing the lights around the tree (with jules shouting instructions that max tried valiantly to follow), you and sophia rummaged through the box of ornaments. “look, mama! it’s papa’s car!” sophia said, holding up an f1 car ornament painted in red bull’s signature colours.

you chuckled, taking the ornament from her little hands. “that’s right! should we put it somewhere special so everyone sees it?”

sophia nodded enthusiastically, and you carried her over to the tree. “papa drives that car!” she announced proudly before making ‘vroom vroom’ noises, earning both a loud chuckle and an approving grin from her father.

“do you think santa will like it?” jules asked as he passed max another strand of lights.

“i think santa will love it,” max replied. “it’s not every day you see a christmas tree with an f1 car on it.”

once the lights were up – though slightly uneven, thanks to jules’ ‘supervising’ – it was time for the ornaments. sophia insisted on placing all the sparkliest ones together in one spot, while jules picked the funniest ones, like a snowman with sunglasses and a gingerbread man with only one arm.

“you know,” max began as he hung a cat ornament that similarly resembled one of their three fur children, “some people call this a tacky tree, but i call it... creative.�� jules passed the other two cat ornaments to max, insisting that they need to be next to each other so they don’t get sad.

“it’s festive!” you chimed in, balancing sophia on your hip as she placed a glittery unicorn near the top of the tree. you watched as your son stepped back like an artist proudly admiring their masterpiece.

after the tree was completely covered in colourful decorations, max hoisted jules onto his shoulders so he could place the star at the top. “steady, buddy... okay, now!” the moment the star clicked into place, sophia clapped wildly, and jules raised his arms in triumph.

“we did it!” jules cheered, and max carefully set him down before pulling you and the kids into a warm group hug in front of the brightly glowing tree.

“best christmas tree ever,” max echoed, his voice soft as he kissed the top of jules’ head, then sophia’s, before looking at you with a laugh, “no kissies for you, sorry”. you couldn’t help but laugh and agree with your husband’s statement, feeling the warmth of your little family wrapped up in the magic of the season.

“best christmas ever.”

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golden-cherry · 11 months ago

Text

deal - cl16 (27/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Cuddles and snuggles with friends are totally normal. But sleeping on top of each other?

Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of angst

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: if seems very rushed, I'm deeply sorry. I just didn't know how to write this chapter. feedback is appreciated (as always, please and thank you!)

As a cold gust of wind blows around your heads, you snuggle a little closer to Charles.

"Are you cold?" he whispers into your hair and strokes your spine with his fingertips, giving you goose bumps. Something he uses as a reason to tighten his arms around you.

The fire in front of you is almost out, with only a few logs crackling in the bowl in front of you, providing the last bit of warmth in the dark December night. The thin blanket wrapped around you doesn't do much to keep out the cold wind. As you start to shiver, Charles pushes you off his lap.

"I'll add some more wood. Hopefully you'll be a bit warmer then," he smiles gently and gets up from the couch.

"It's okay," you reply and start to fold the blanket in your lap. "It's already late. We can just go home."

But your roommate shakes his head. "We can still stay here."

"But -"

"I still want to stay here." His tone sounds almost desperate. "Please."

When you look into his eyes, there's a warm sparkle in them. And when he smiles, the sweet dimples bore into his cheeks, and you can do nothing but return his smile. "Let's go then. It's freezing."

You watch him take some logs from the corner by the patio door and place them in the almost burnt-out fire bowl. While you stretch out on the sofa cushions and snuggle back into the blanket, he lights a new fire. The light from the flames illuminates his face and gives it a golden glow.

You rest your head in your hand. "I didn't know you were so good at starting a fire."

Charles, kneeling on the other side of the fire bowl, can't help but grin. His gaze flickers from the flames in front of him to you. "There are a few things I'm good at that you don't know about." He licks his lips once before straightening up and taking the few steps to the couch. His eyes move from your face to your covered body. "Is there room for me too?"

You raise your eyebrows before pulling your knees up a little so he can sit at the other end of the couch. "Here you go."

Charles rolls his eyes. "Nuh-uh." Before you know it, he slides his arms under your body and lifts you off the couch - without much effort. "We'll share the space. It's fair." He sets you on your feet and pushes the blanket into your hand, then stretches out on the sofa so quickly that you can't protest. He clasps his hands behind his head and grins at you.

You, on the other hand, cross your arms in front of your chest. "I think we have different definitions of 'sharing'." As he slips an inch, you have to suppress a smile. "And apparently also of 'fair'."

"I think it's very fair," he defends himself, dropping one arm to his side so that it's between his body and the backrest. "I'm lying on the couch and you're lying on top of me." He shrugs, as if it's no big deal that he wants you to lie with your body on top of his. "Come on. I thought you were cold. And standing around isn't going to help you warm up."

You step from one foot to the other. "You sure?"

Charles rests his head on the armrest of the couch before spreading his arms out. "Come on. We sleep in a bed at home. There's not much difference here."

Not much difference.

You feel your heart pounding. "There's a big difference between lying on top of each other and lying next to each other."

Charles sighs loudly before sitting up and reaching for your hand. You can't resist as he pulls you towards him with all his strength, almost causing you to trip over your own feet. The blanket falls to the floor and thank God you can support yourself with your free hand, otherwise you would have landed on his face.

"Charles!"

Your friend wraps his arm around you so that you don't slip off him or land on the edge of the sofa. His cold fingers slide under your sweater and find their firm place at your side, while his free hand lifts the blanket from the floor and spreads it over the both of you. You have no choice but to lay your head on his chest and snuggle up to him.

"It's not so bad, is it?" he murmurs into your hairline and kisses the top of your head, making your heart beat faster. You just hope he can't feel it.

"For being so muscular, you're pretty comfortable," you confess, playing with his fingers as they continue to hold your hand. "Not as comfortable as the couch, but I'm not complaining."

You feel Charles' body shake beneath you. He laughs. "I can lie on top of you if you want." His fingertips slide further from your side and almost slide under your body. He presses you tightly against him. "Then I'd crush you. But maybe that wouldn't be so bad. The closer, the warmer."

You feel the blood rush to your cheeks and press your face into his chest.

You're a little surprised that Charles turned the last remnant of his two-year relationship into ashes a few hours ago and is now making these kinds of comments. He even cried. But maybe that's what he needs. A friendship that goes deeper than shallow conversations and coffee dates.

Maybe he needs the closeness, emotionally and physically. Something he can hold on to when the roof falls on his head. Someone who pushes him to be better, but also brings him back down to earth when he takes off.

You want to be that person for him. Even if it costs you your heart.

You watch as the individual logs begin to burn. Charles' chest rises and falls beneath you and you feel his warm breath on your forehead as the fire crackles in front of you. Charles' hands change positions; the one that was holding your own a moment ago slides under your sweater to gently stroke your spine, while the other finds its way to your head. With warm fingertips, he brushes some of the hair from your face before he starts scratching your head.

"Do you want me to fall asleep?" you murmur against his shirt-clad chest.

"Would that be so bad?" You feel his lips move against the top of your head. Before you know it, you feel them on your forehead as he breathes a soft kiss on your cool skin.

"Uh-huh."

"Why? I thought I was comfortable?" His voice is barely louder than a whisper.

You curl your fingers into his sweater. "Pretty much. You're pretty comfortable," you repeat to yourself. "My bed at home is more comfortable, though."

"Then I'm sorry."

You twist your neck a little to look at him. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Sorry for what?"

He strokes your cheek once with his thumb. "That you have to make do with me." His warm breath caresses your face and although you are literally lying on top of him, you only now realize how close you are.

You smile tiredly. "Don't worry," you push yourself up a little and press your forehead against his cheek; his beard scratches gently against your skin. "My bed may be comfortable, but you're still my favorite."

Charles' lips kiss the tip of your nose before he kisses your forehead once more. "You're my favorite too, mon amour." His long arms wrap around your body under the covers, holding you close as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep.

You dream of peonies, pasta, red cars and lightning and warm lips on yours. Of strong arms that wrap around you, a body that lies on top of yours. You dream of Charles, his smile and the warmth he radiates. And only when his body moves beneath you do you slowly wake up from your dreams.

"Sleep well?" Charles' voice is raspy and deep in your ear as you squirm a little in his arms.

You exhale deeply, but keep your eyes closed. "Uh-huh."

Charles laughs softly and your head bobs on his chest. "So I was more comfortable than I expected."

Slowly, you open your eyes. The fire bowl has burnt out, there are only ashes in it and the only things that light up the night are the moon and the stars in the sky above you and a small lamp that shines a soft cone of light on you from the living room. "How long have I been asleep?" You rub your eyes sleepily.

"A few hours. But don't worry, as far as I know you weren't drooling," he jokes, but that doesn't stop you from jumping off the couch as if bitten by a tarantula.

"I'm sorry," you apologize, running your fingers through your hair, "I didn't mean to use you as a personal pillow."

"It's okay," he replies with a smile and scratches his beard. "I was going for it with the cuddling and the tickling, after all." He shrugs his shoulders. "I'm quite irresistible."

An image of him on top of you flickers in your mind's eye. How true.

"I'm sorry though." You grab Charles's legs and lift them up so you can sit on the couch next to him. His calves rest on your lap. "Your back must be incredibly sore."

He waves his hand. "This couch is still better than the one in our old apartment. It really was a horror." He leans back a little, stretches his back over the armrest and you can both hear the crack of individual vertebrae in his back. When you look at him with a raised eyebrow, he grins. "Oops."

"Come on." You push his legs off you and stand up. "Let's go home. There's a super comfy bed waiting for us. And there's enough room so we don't have to sleep on top of each other." You hold out your hand to him to pull him off the couch.

He puts his hand in yours, but instead of you pulling him up, he pulls you back towards him so that you end up on his lap. "Then let's stay here. On this couch. It's not as comfortable as our bed, but at least I'll have you lying on top of me." His grin is so wide that it almost reaches his ears.

You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. You try to suppress the fact that your hands start to sweat and a warm shiver runs down your spine. "You're impossible."

"I thought I was irresistible?" he asks, leaning forward.

You hold your breath. "You said that, not me. And you're talking a lot of nonsense."

Charles lifts his hand and places it against your cheek, letting it wander until his fingers find your neck and his thumb lifts your chin. His mouth opens and his tongue glides over his full lips. "True. But when I say you're the most important person in my life, that's not nonsense."

You place your hand on his. "Then what is it?"

"The truth." He smiles lovingly. "You are - the light in my darkness, the fire in my veins, the music in my heart. I never expected that you could grow so fond of someone in such a short time. And then you came along." He hesitantly removes his hand from your cheek and the warmth it had radiated disappears. "You're my best friend."

Never in your life have you wanted to scream as loudly as you do at this moment. And you want to scream at the man in front of you, tell him that you want to be more to him than his best friend, that you want to kiss him, that you want to be his. And that you can hardly stand it when he's not with you.

And you want to scream at yourself, smack yourself, because you're trying to convince yourself that a friendship is enough, even though your heart is telling you that it's the last thing you want from him. You want to grab yourself by the shoulders and shake you until you come to your senses.

You are Charles' friend. His best friend. And even if actions speak louder than words, his words were unmistakable.

You smile at him. "I wouldn't want to be anything else either."

While Charles pushes the sofa back into place, you clear away the rest. You fold up the blanket and put it on the back of the sofa in the living room and the empty Coke cans end up in the garbage can in the kitchen. There's no sign of Joris, but his bedroom door is closed and there's not a sound to be heard. The apartment is dead quiet until Charles joins you in the kitchen.

"Last time we were here, we had a fight afterwards, remember?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

You turn to him and take a look at the kitchen island, where nothing is lying around except for a large wooden board. You chew the inside of your cheek. "I hate to remember that."

Your flatmate tilts his head. "The phone call or the argument?"

"The fight."

Charles pushes me away from the doorframe and stands opposite you at the kitchen island. "I'd like to apologize again. I went one step too far. And we haven't even known each other for twenty-four hours."

"Charles..."

"No, listen to me." He circles the counter until he stands in front of you and takes your hands in his. They're soft and warm. "I crossed a line that day and you were right to be angry with me. I just want to say again that I definitely don't want to do that again. The fighting I mean." He smiles. "I'd defend you to Raphael any time of day or night."

You purse your lips. "Then it's a good thing we can leave him behind. Just like Annika."

He lifts your hands and presses a fleeting kiss to your knuckles. "And I couldn't have done it without you."

The drive home isn't far, thank God, and as Charles parks his brother's car in the underground garage, you're overcome with tiredness again. You would have preferred to stay in the car, recline your seat and close your eyes. But Charles's hand on your thigh pulls you back into the world of the living.

"We're here, sleepyhead. Come on, there's a warm bed waiting for you upstairs that can hardly wait for you to snuggle up in."

"I can hardly wait either," you smile as you unbuckle your seatbelt and follow your roommate to the elevator. The light inside is bright and far too harsh for your tired eyes, so you close them and lean your head against the elevator wall. "I'm so tired."

"But you slept."

You open your eyes and look at your friend. "What's up with you? Aren't you tired too?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Do I look that exhausted?" He runs a hand through his hair. "I slept a bit too, don't worry. You lying on top of me wasn't just comfortable for you."

You try not to think too much about his comment as you get ready for bed and then lie down in your long-awaited bed. You plug your phone into the charging cable and see an Instagram notification pop up.

You have to smile.

liked by pierregasly and others tagged: yourusername francisca.cgomes: favorite cardigan, favorite person

"What's up?" asks Charles, who closes the door behind him.

You try not to stare at his naked torso, which, thank heavens, you manage to do. "Here, Kika's following me on Instagram now." You hold your phone out to him briefly so he can see her post. "I'll just follow her back."

"Can I follow you now too?" he asks as he lies down in bed next to you, phone in hand.

You look at him in confusion. "You're already following me."

Charles laughs as if you've told a joke. "That's right. But this is my private account. I'd like to follow you on my official account, if that's okay with you."

"It's okay with me," you reply, "but are you sure? After all, Kika has tagged me in her pictures. And if they go to my profile, they'll see that you're following me too, won't they?"

You don't really want to rub his caring in, but it was his idea to take Kika and Pierre furniture shopping. And to drive through Monaco in your old Renault. The fact that he wants to follow you - quite publicly and for everyone to see - on Instagram goes against everything he's done for your safety.

"They will. But we're friends, after all, and I won't be able to keep you out of the spotlight forever."

"All right." A moment later, another notification pops up. You quickly accept his request and follow him back before looking at the last picture he posted. You grin at him. "Cool picture, who took that?"

Playfully clueless, he shrugs his shoulders before snuggling into the pillow. "My best friend."

As you put your phone away, he switches off the bedside lamp and darkness and silence fill the room. You feel his warmth under the covers and you want to scoot the few inches over to him and press yourself against him until you're engulfed by his warmth.

"Would it be weird if we cuddled?" His voice sounds hesitant, as if he was struggling to ask you that. When you don't answer, Charles quickly backpedals. "I'm sorry. I know we're just friends, but - I don't know - when you're there, I feel like I'm at home. And it calms me down when you're with me. I'm sorry, that all sounds totally selfish."

You reach under the blanket for his hand. He squeezes it twice. "Friends can cuddle too, I think. I mean, without ulterior motives."

"Good," he murmurs and his arm wraps around your middle to pull you closer. He drapes your leg over his hip and your hand rests on his chest. "Is that okay with you?" His fingertips dance on your bare skin under your sleep shirt.

You press your face into his neck and breathe in deeply. As you exhale and your hot breath brushes over the soft skin of his neck, he pushes your leg down a little further, tangling your limbs together. "If that's what it is for you."

"It is." Charles presses one last kiss to your forehead before resting his cheek against the top of your head again. "And now we need to sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a busy day. I don't think my mother can wait to get to know you better."

"Do you think she'll like me?" you ask softly into the darkness.

Charles' skin is warm and soft against yours as he presses you against him and your shirt slides up a little. "I think that anyone who gets to know you better will fall head over heels in love with you. Whether they want to or not."

Charles Instagram post

liked by francisca.cgomes, pierregasly and others charles_leclerc: aux nouveaux départs posted three days ago

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc cute #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x female oc #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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supernovafics · 2 months ago

Text

completed series masterlist

pairing: modern!actor!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 6k words

warnings: explicit language, established relationship, lots and lots of fluff, a tiny bit of angst, smut (18+), unprotected piv sex

summary: you and steve get to spend the weekend together

author's note: this takes place about six ish months from the epilogue of this series. you don’t really need to have read everything to read this, just know that actor!steve and reader are dating and have been for the past six months, and reader works in film (production/behind the scenes stuff)🫡🫡🫡 this whole thing turned out to be so much longer than i expected omg but i was really missing actor!steve and star of the show so yeah this happened! enjoy<3333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

BONUS | ❝𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒅❞

You were practically jumping into Steve’s arms when he exited the car, not even giving him a chance to grab his bag from the trunk before you were hugging him tightly.

The soft and happy laugh he emitted in response to your antics made you smile into his neck.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

His arms tightened around you. “I’ve missed you too.”

You two stayed just like that for a bit, simply savoring the feeling of finally being in each other’s arms after two and a half months of not having that. Until the cold was hitting you and the red knit sweater you were wearing and Steve’s arms wrapped around you were sadly not enough to keep you warm.

Reluctantly, you pulled out of the embrace and looked up at him. “Okay, it’s freezing out here. Let’s go inside.”

Steve nodded as he went to grab his bag from the trunk of his Uber; a small suitcase that made sense for this weekend trip to the small town that was an hour away from where the documentary you’d been working on as a producer for the last few months was filming in upstate New York.

“Does the inside actually match the pictures on the website?” Steve asked as his free hand found yours and the two of you walked up the small path that led to the house you rented for the weekend.

“Surprisingly yes,” You answered, about to open the front door, but then you remembered something that had somehow slipped your mind in the last few minutes; which actually made sense because being with Steve always managed to do that to you. You stopped walking before you pushed open the door and looked up at him. “Oh, okay, so I kinda fucked up.”

He gave you a confused look. “What happened?”

“It was really cold in the house when I first got here a couple hours ago, so I turned on the heat,” You started and Steve nodded along to your words. “But, it’s broken or something because when I tried to turn it down, it didn’t work and it won’t turn off, so it’s… pretty warm inside.”

“Oh, okay, that’s fine,” He said with a quick shrug, completely underestimating just how bad it was because you were downplaying the entire situation. “I thought you were gonna say you flooded the place or something.”

You finally pushed open the front door and let Steve walk in first, taking note of his reaction as he was hit with the heat and immediately went to pull his jacket off.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “‘Pretty warm’?”

“I know. I’m sorry,” You said as you pushed the sleeves of your sweater up to your elbows. “I called the lady that owns the place and she said that she can send her brother over tomorrow to fix it.”

Aside from the heat, the place was nice. You gave him a quick tour of the small space; well, only the parts that mattered— the living room that didn’t have a TV but you already had your laptop set up on the coffee table, the kitchen that was actually the perfect size for the meal that you two would be cooking later, the backyard patio that had a fire pit that you quickly told Steve would be perfect for making smores.

And then there was your bedroom on the second floor. It wasn’t until you were closed behind the door of the room that Steve finally kissed you, spinning you around as you were pointing at the door that led to the bathroom and slotting his lips against yours.

You knew why he had waited, and why you had put it off too— that first kiss after being apart for so long was never just a kiss; it always quickly led to more and you both hated having to interrupt it.

You yelped in surprise before instinctively melting into your boyfriend’s touch. His hands were cupping your face so tenderly that it didn’t even bother you how cold they were; in fact, you found it as a nice contrast from the heat that took over the entire house.

Steve guided you back toward the nicely made bed and then softly pushed you down so that you were lying on it, breaking the kiss. You wasted no time in pulling your sweater up and over your head and tossing it somewhere in the room, leaving you in your black bra. You felt near desperate to get Steve out of the long sleeve he was wearing too, but before you could make any move to do so he was leaning over you and kissing you again.

Your fingers slipped into the belt loops of the dark jeans he was wearing and pulled him firmly against you. Feeling his hardness pressed against your thigh made you softly whine into the kiss and the quiet groan Steve let out in response sounded like music to your ears.

He grinded against you roughly and your hips bucked upward at every one of his movements, trying to feel anything through your jeans. You suddenly wished that you had opted for wearing the skirt that you had ultimately decided to save for later.

With a particularly rough stir of his hips, you moaned into his mouth and your hands shot up to find their home in his hair.

“I’m sorry,” Steve mumbled against your lips.

You hummed in confusion. “For what?”

His mouth found your neck, nipping harshly at your collarbone and making you mewl. “I really don’t wanna take my time with you right now.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Good, because I don’t want you to either.”

Clothes were shed and littered on the floor in a matter of what felt like seconds. Your head fell back against one of the pillows and Steve settled comfortably on top of you and between your spread legs, his body enveloping yours completely. You two didn’t even bother getting under the blanket; it was too hot to do so anyway.

The feeling of his cock pressed against your inner thigh, so close yet so far from where you needed it to be, made you moan and you could feel yourself dripping at the thought of what was to come. You needed him badly and right now.

As if reading your mind, Steve positioned himself at your entrance and pushed inside of you; your wetness making it easy for him to fill you up completely in one swift movement that made you both gasp.

Your mind effectively became a pile of mush, but you still were coherent enough to reach up and give his hair the soft tugs that you knew he loved. It made him groan and his thrusts started to pick up speed, not taking things slow just like he said.

It was the pent up frustration and build up from not having been with each other in person that made you both practically feral for each other.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you so much. Your pussy always feels so good. Takes me so fucking well. Shit, fuck. I love you. I love you so, so much.” Steve’s rambling was a given in moments like these.

It was always this “hello” sex or subsequent “goodbye” sex where he would ramble on and on about how much he loved you and how perfect you were. His words came out quick and rushed as if they’d been living inside of him for so long and they were finally able to burst out.

You became pretty much the opposite in these moments, mind running on autopilot as you took everything he was giving you. It was always so hard to form coherent sentences when all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last long, honey,” Steve said. His hand had a near-bruising grip on your hip as he pushed his cock deeper and deeper inside of you with every thrust.

“I don’t care,” You told him, finding your voice. “I need you to cum inside me, Steve. Please.”

His hand moved from your hip and snaked between your bodies to find your clit, rubbing tight circles against the sensitive nub to bring you there with him. You let out the loudest moan and clenched around his cock in response and it abruptly sent him over the edge. He came inside you with a groan and a surprised “fuck,” hand finding and squeezing your hip once again. The feeling of his cum painting your walls nearly made you burst with him.

He buried his face in your neck and you could feel his racing heart against your chest and it made you smile, it also made you want to kiss him. You turned your head a little, pressing a kiss into his hair, but it wasn’t enough for you.

You gave Steve a little nudge and he lifted his head, looking at you curiously.

“Let me kiss you,” You told him and he smiled as he leaned in and you closed the rest of the small bit of distance between you two. It was slow and languid, a surprisingly nice contrast from how rushed and intense everything had been a few minutes ago.

When you felt sated, you pulled back. “Okay, let’s go shower.”

“No, no, wait,” Steve said, lifting off of you a bit. You should’ve known what was coming; Steve hated finishing before you— although, you didn’t really care that much because it never happened that often anyway, and honestly when it did happen you found it quite endearing. But, there was no way that he’d let you get up in this moment without making you come.

His middle finger found your clit again and you couldn’t help but let out the softest whine and clench around his cock that was still inside you as he started slowly circling the bundle of nerves. “Need you to come for me, baby, okay?”

Your eyes fell shut and you were nodding immediately. “Mm, okay.”

You felt him kiss your cheek and then his mouth was right at your ear as his finger started moving faster and you were bucking your hips upward to feel more. “God, you look so perfect spread out for me like this. Be a good girl and come for me.”

You’d already been close so it didn’t take long for you to come around his softening cock, especially with the soft praises he was giving you.

“Fuck, fuck, Steve.” He continued stroking your clit through your orgasm, not pulling away until he could tell that you were becoming too overstimulated.

“Okay,” He said, lips pressing against yours in the softest kiss. “Now we can shower.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You and Steve were really good at long distance— texts and calls and FaceTimes were always frequent and you never went a day without talking to each other, even if it was just a quick conversation— but nothing would ever beat seeing each other in person. The last time was a couple of months ago when you had a few days free and you went back to Los Angeles to see him. It was great, but felt so short, and it already slightly saddened you that this weekend would be the same thing.

Steve was making grabby hands at you the second you two stepped into the cool shower.

“Hey, hey, no funny business right now,” You said, playfully swatting his hands away as you pulled the curtain closed. “We need to make this shower quick because there’s this outdoor Fall market thing I want us to go to. It’s like a five-minute walk from here.”

He pressed a soft kiss against your neck and then gave you a curious look. “Is that a good idea?”

You two were still navigating how to be in public with one another and how to make it work; and if it would even be possible to make it work in the way you wanted it to. You really didn’t want to get pulled into the spotlight and Steve was completely understanding of that, so staying in when you two were together wasn’t uncommon to either of you. And it had yet to feel like a huge deal because when you two only had a few days to spend with each other at a time, going out wasn’t on either of your minds. However, these current circumstances felt pretty different because of where you two were.

You pulled back a little and let your arms come up to circle his neck, your hands finding home in the damp hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, we don’t have to worry here, this is such a small town and a paparazzi-free zone. I promise.”

“Okay,” He nodded, and then his eyes fell shut as you softly started stroking his hair. “So, what do they have at this Fall market thing?”

“I only quickly drove past it so I don’t really know,” You told him. “But, I did see a hot chocolate stand and we have to get that.”

“Mm, that sounds good.”

“Oh, oh, oh, that reminds me, did you bring me chocolate from San Francisco?” You asked, smiling up at him.

His eyes opened then and he smiled back at you. “Of course, it’s in my suitcase.”

“God, I love you,” You tilted your head upward to give his lips a quick peck. “We should probably take it out soon and put it in the fridge because of how hot it is.”

“I’ll grab it after this,” Steve said and you nodded.

You were the one to pull out of his arms and force you two to do what you were supposed to be doing in a shower, and five minutes later, you both were clean but neither of you made any move to turn off the water. Instead, Steve was turned away from you and you were softly running your finger across his back, doing a sort of connect the dots with the few freckles and moles that were littered across his skin. It would be pretty safe to say that you two were using the shower as a way to cool down from the heat that was taking over the entire house. And although you had proclaimed that this needed to be a quick shower, you didn’t mind wasting a few more minutes in it with Steve.

“Hey,” He said softly and you hummed in response to let him know that you were listening. “I think that I’m gonna turn down the role for the movie that’s filming in Toronto in January.”

You abruptly stopped tracing random patterns on his back. “What? Really?”

At first, he simply nodded in answer, and then you poked him a couple times so that he would turn and face you.

“Yeah, I’m not really into the script or the role that much. And it also would overlap for two weeks with the next thing I’m gonna do in Europe. Those producers said that they can make this overlap work, but I don’t know, I just don’t really want to do the one in Toronto, anyway,” He told you, and then his hands settled on your bare waist. “Plus, if I don’t do it, then that means we’ll get three uninterrupted months together in LA instead of just having December.”

You tried not to let yourself get too excited at the idea of things working out like that. Once the documentary finished, you wouldn’t have anything big planned until you worked as the Assistant Director on Jessie’s, your good friend’s, next film that was starting in three months. Your plan in the meantime was to go home to Los Angeles and just take a break until then; maybe help out on some local projects here and there because it was hard to completely push your mind away from working. Now knowing that Steve would also be home the entire time made the thought of actually taking a break sound nice.

You gave him a look in this moment, though, because it was impossible for you to not think logically about this too. “You’re not really doing this just for that last reason, right?”

If his answer was yes, you were ready to launch into an explanation about how he didn’t need to do that just so you two could spend more time together. Your schedules had already aligned perfectly and you two would get to spend the holidays together— and that felt lucky and great in itself— so he didn’t need to turn down roles he wanted just so you two could have more moments like this one. You’d been making it work these last six months and you knew that you’d continue to make this relationship work without either of you having to make any crazy sacrifices just yet.

“No, I meant all of that other stuff,” Steve told you, wrapping his arms around you completely and pulling you closer. “Things were entirely different before you and before us. I used to like taking every role that I was offered because I wanted to stay busy and because I hated taking breaks between projects. But now I don’t wanna work all the time and take roles that aren’t that interesting just to stay busy. Especially not when not doing the movie or whatever else means I get to spend that time with you instead.”

It was honestly really endearing seeing how things were shifting for him because of you and your relationship; it was also a little scary.

“And you’re completely sure about this?”

Steve didn’t hesitate to nod. “A thousand percent.”

You let yourself accept his words then, knowing that he was telling you the truth.

“Y’know, this means that we’ll finally get a chance to get sick of each other instead of constantly missing each other,” You said, playfully poking his side.

Steve laughed a little. “That’ll be a nice change.”

It was a possibility, but neither of you could actually see that happening, you couldn’t imagine growing sick of him.

You had wanted to keep things fairly PG, but it was too hard not to kiss him in this moment; threading your fingers through his hair and pulling him close to you, chest to chest and hands grabbing at your hips. He guided you back to the wall of the shower and softly pressed you against the white tile. You could feel his half-hard cock twitch against where it was pressed to your lower stomach and you suddenly felt so close to telling him to fuck you against the wall.

Before you could beg or even simply ask for that, Steve was pulling away from your mouth and pressing his forehead against yours with a soft breath. “Remember when this was supposed to be a quick shower?”

He was being the logical one in this moment and you were simultaneously happy and annoyed about it.

You nodded. “Sadly yes.”

Steve moved away from you completely, finally turning off the water and pushing the curtain to the side to grab the towels that you two had hanging up. He wrapped one around your shoulders and then grabbed the other one for himself and wrapped it around his waist.

You readjusted your towel and before he stepped out of the shower you grabbed his attention with a soft, “Hey.”

You held up your pinky and then continued. “I know you said that you didn’t even want to take this role anyway, but promise me that if there is something that you do really like and wanna do or even like a little or whatever, you won’t turn it down for me and because of us, okay?”

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt the need to say that in this moment, to remind him that you two would always figure out how to make things work despite all of your guys’ work stuff, but it felt important to.

He nodded as he lifted his hand and linked his pinky with yours. “I promise.”

“Remember, I take these very seriously, Steven,” You said, smiling up at him.

“I know,” He said, a small smile on his face, and he was the one to kiss you that time around.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The hot chocolate was warm in your hands and it felt so nice that it made you not want to drink anymore of it yet; it was still a bit too hot anyway.

You and Steve were settled on a random bench in the park where the market was happening. After an hour of walking around and buying a few things, you two were away from the busyness of the little shops and stands that took over the park and the hordes of people; it had ended up being more crowded than you had expected it to be.

You looked up at Steve and his beanie-covered head. “You do like the candle, right?”

“Yes, I do,” He answered. “It smells really nice. And you made a very compelling case about smelling it in my place when we’re together and doing fun holiday stuff in December so that really sold it for me.”

You could imagine that probably too easily, and that was exactly what you had told Steve. The cinnamon and vanilla scent perfectly defined Fall and Winter in your eyes and it was nice to think about the cozy smell taking over his apartment in LA as you two spent the holidays together for the first time; watching Christmas movies and baking cookies because why not? The thought of doing that, and especially doing it with Steve, warmed your heart. You hadn’t done anything like that in what felt like forever. Instead, you had always figured out a way to busy yourself with work during that time, knowing that you’d just feel lonely otherwise. Now things were very different.

“I can’t wait for that,” You told Steve softly.

He switched his hot chocolate to one hand so that he could wrap an arm around you. “Me too.”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead and then your cold nose and then your lips. Before either of you could make the kiss deeper than the chaste peck that it was, your phone started ringing in the pocket of your coat.

Reluctantly, you pulled back from Steve and fished your phone out of your pocket. When you saw Jackson’s contact name on your screen, you were quickly both annoyed and worried. He was the director of the documentary and technically your boss, but the entire small crew felt more like family at this point, so that made you feel more inclined to answer the call.

You sighed, looking away from your phone still ringing, and up at Steve. “I told him that I wouldn’t be available this weekend and he said he’d only call if it was something really important so…”

“It’s okay. Take it,” Steve told you and you gave him a small smile before swiping to answer the call and standing up from the bench.

For the next ten minutes, Steve watched you on the phone a few feet away, pacing back and forth as you talked because it was too hard for you to be still when you were on a call, especially an abrupt work one. He found you so goddamn adorable; the furrow of your eyebrows and how you’d chew on your lip or become fixated on something as you talked and listened. In this moment, it was the hot chocolate in your hand.

He loved how serious you got about work, it reminded him of himself in a lot of ways, and he also loved that he got to see both sides of you. The side that happily became consumed by work, and the not-so-serious side where you and he would talk about anything and everything that didn’t involve work. He vividly remembered one night in his bed when you went on the longest tangent about early 2000s music. It was so random and a little weird, but it only made him fall deeper and harder for you.

“Is everything okay?” He asked you once you were sitting back next to him on the bench and your phone was pocketed away in your jacket again.

“Yeah, now it’s fine, thank god. Jackson was freaking out because one of the parents wanted to pull her kid out of the entire thing, which would fuck up pretty much everything we’ve been doing for the past few months because she’s one of the main kids that we’ve been following at this performing arts school. According to Jackson, I’m the best at talking to the parents so he put me on a call with the mom, and I managed to convince her to be back on board with everything— I reminded her about how much exposure the documentary is gonna give the school, and in turn her daughter, and she was really happy about that. Apparently, she was getting annoyed that the cameras haven’t been “following them enough” lately, which I think actually has been true, but it’s only because one of the other girls is having more interesting stuff happening right now or something. I don’t really know. But, I told her that that camera time doesn’t really matter because everyone’s gonna get the same amount of screen time in the final cut; which might actually be kind of a lie, I don’t know…” You trailed off with a sigh when you realized how long you’d been talking. “Sorry, now I’m just rambling about nonsense.”

Steve shook his head, smiling at you. “No, I think it’s cute when you ramble about work.”

You two were on the same page about that; there was something about hearing his work stories that had yet to get old to you too. Whether it be about random castmate drama or filming delays, or even stuff outside of filming— like interviews that actually ended up being fun, or ones that had one too many awkward questions— you loved hearing about it all, and Steve was a really great storyteller.

“If I ever mention wanting to work on something that will involve kids and their parents again, please remind me of this annoying moment,” You said and Steve nodded amusingly at your request. “Oh, and I stress-drank my entire hot chocolate during that phone call, which sucks because I wanted to savor it.”

“Let’s get you another one and then head back to our sauna for the rest of the night.”

You laughed at his joke and then nodded. “Solid idea, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It was barely nine o’clock when you and Steve fell asleep. You two had cooked a quick meal in the kitchen when you made it back from the park and then promptly ended up in bed, watching a movie with your laptop opened up next to you two because the living room couch wasn’t as comfortable as you thought it would be.

You two were not even halfway through the movie— some random rom-com that was the first thing you saw when you went to Netflix— when you fell asleep. It was early, but it made sense; Steve had had a long flight from where he had just finished filming in San Francisco and you hadn’t been getting more than five hours of sleep lately because of work.

You honestly didn’t expect to wake up until late in the morning, after you successfully caught up on all the sleep you’d been missing lately with Steve right next to you; you’d come to have the best sleep ever when he was with you. So, when you randomly woke up in the middle of the night, it was because you didn’t feel him next to you. Despite how hot it was in the house, you remembered his arms had been wrapped around you when you fell asleep.

You sleepily opened your eyes and noticed Steve standing in front of his opened suitcase in the corner of the room with his phone pressed to his ear. He was shirtless and had one hand slipped in the pocket of the basketball shorts he was wearing. You were pretty much dressed the same, only in a tank top and a pair of small pajama shorts because it was pretty impossible to wear anything else in the warm house.

“We’ll figure it out…” Steve said and then you heard him sigh. “She’s sleeping now, so I’ll tell her when she wakes up… Yeah, uh-huh, okay. Bye.”

The call ended and you saw him slip his phone into the pocket of his shorts and then he sighed again, it was a longer and more annoyed-sounding one that time.

“Tell me what?” You mumbled as you rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, the sheet covering your body slipped down as you moved, but you didn’t mind.

Steve turned to you and gave you a smile that even in the darkness that took over the bedroom you could see didn’t reach his eyes. You turned on the small lamp that sat on the nightstand next to you to bring some light to the room.

“Okay, don’t be mad…” He pulled out his phone again as he walked over to sit back next to you on the bed and then handed over his phone.

The first thing you saw was the headline— Steve Harrington Spotted with Mystery Girl in New York. You scrolled down and there were a series of pictures of you and him at the park; laughing, smiling, smelling a candle at the candle stand, and your hot chocolates in hand moments after you’d gotten them. It felt weird seeing yourself like that; invasive. It was exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

The remaining bit of tiredness you felt was quickly wiped away and you shook your head. “Oh, oh, fuck, I’m an idiot.”

“That’s not true,” You heard Steve say as you still looked at his phone.

“Yes, I definitely am. I should’ve known this would happen. Why did I think that just because this is a small town, you’d be able to be normal for a couple days?” Now that you were saying it out loud you knew just how stupid that assumption had been, and you were actually surprised that you hadn’t realized that sooner, or that Steve hadn’t called you out on it. “Was that Tom on the phone?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“What did he say?”

“First, he was pissed that he had to find out this way; it was very ‘blindsiding,’ and as my publicist, he should’ve known this huge thing. But, he’s glad that it’s at least you because he likes you,” Steve said and you nodded along to his words. “Second, he wants to know what we want to do about it because there are a bunch of other articles coming out calling you my girlfriend and trying to figure out who you are, and also calling Tom and asking for comments and confirmations and all of that stuff.”

The wheels in your brain were already turning, trying to figure out what to do now that the initial shock had worn off. Your eyes were still solely focused on Steve’s phone because maybe the answer would hit you if you kept staring at the picture of him smiling at you as you took what had been the first sip of your hot chocolate.

Steve kept going when you were quiet for too long. “Tom said that the pictures aren’t too ‘romantic-looking,’ so he can put denials out if we want.”

You still couldn’t figure out what to say. Your mind was moving a million miles a second but not one coherent thought or solution or anything was forming.

Steve spoke again after a few moments. “I’m really sorry about all of this.”

That made you finally look at him; he was leaning back against the headboard and pushing a hand through his hair. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“Because I know this is the opposite of what you wanted to happen.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but it’s not your fault,” You told him, placing his phone down on the bed and scooching closer to him. “At all.”

You didn’t want to get pulled into the spotlight, but it was pretty much inevitable, you were finally realizing now. Being with Steve meant that. There was really no way around it, and the more you thought about it, the more you realized that it was kind of surprising that this actually hadn’t happened sooner.

“Whatever you want to do about this, we can do it,” Steve told you, pulling you out of your thoughts with a reassuring hand squeeze. “I’m used to the bullshit pap stuff and articles talking about me, but you’re not, so we could deny this and forget it happened.”

Maybe he was right and you two could forget about it for now, but something like this was bound to happen again. Steve was only becoming a bigger actor— which made sense because he was insanely good, and you loved telling him that and watching him turn a little red and playfully roll his eyes at you whenever you did.

It meant that more eyes would be on him, so what were the options? Lie and hide your relationship forever? Never go out in public with him again?

That sounded a thousand times worse than what this article and whatever the other ones were already saying about you and him.

“I don’t think we should deny it,” You told Steve as you moved even closer to him and settled in his lap, knees on either side of him. “This was bound to happen sooner or later, right? So, maybe it’s okay that it happened now.”

His warm hands found your hips immediately, slipping in the space where your tank top had ridden up and touching your bare skin. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” You nodded and a part of you wanted to simply leave it at that, but then you continued. “We could deny this and forget about it, but something like this is just gonna happen again.” A playful smile tugged at your lips. “Also, it would probably get really annoying keeping us a secret because I don’t know if you know this, but I love you and I’m planning to be with you for a really, really, really long time.”

Steve matched your smile. “I do know that, but I also really love hearing it.”

Your hands came up then, settling on his bare shoulders and then moving to the hair at the nape of his neck. You leaned in, brushing your nose against his and his head tilted upward, closing the final bit of distance between you two.

The kiss was soft and teasing. Steve’s arms circled around you completely and he pulled you impossibly close to him. You let out a soft sound into his mouth at the feel of your chest brushing against his, the only thing that separated you two was the thin black fabric of your shirt.

He thumbed at the strap of the tank top for a quick second before slipping it off your shoulder, mouth and tongue still solely focused on you as he did so.

You finally found it in you to pull away after a moment and you met Steve’s eyes and the small pout quickly taking over his features. “Shouldn’t you be texting Tom?”

He shrugged as if that was the absolute last thing on his mind at this moment; you were pretty certain that you knew what the first thing was. “I’ll do it in the morning.”

You decided against questioning and teasing him further and instead whispered a soft, “Okay,” before leaning in to slot your lips against his once again.

It didn’t matter that the text hadn’t been sent yet, and it also wouldn’t really matter if it wasn’t sent tomorrow or the day after that. Because it wouldn’t really change anything aside from the obvious; and you were making a mental note to make sure that all of your social media accounts were set to private before you started getting bombarded with the inevitable.

At the end of the day, Steve was yours and you were his, you both were so sure and certain of that fact, and that’s all that mattered right then.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

let me know your thoughts<333

(there's a part of me that really really wants to write holiday stuff with these two and i'm gonna think about that for the rest of the night 🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things smut #stranger things fic

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bellaxgiornata · 26 days ago

Text

The Devil at Your Window |10: Blood & Honesty|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.3k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: So...I've been gone for a bit, but now I'm back after that unexpected hiatus. This is the installment that I have been wanting to scream about because of where things are about to eventually go.... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @millennial-birkin @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon @sarraa-26 @barnes21cz @loves0phelia @3sriracha @kmc1989 @midnightramble @marissamejia19 @ardent-crow @ujws5 @livvyliv15 @sweety18 @energerstar @steve-chandler @librarygremin @wanda-maxamommy

It was a surprisingly warm night tonight. Spring had finally drawn nearer to Hell's Kitchen with the way the evening chill had begun to lack its usual bite. As Matt limped his way across the rooftop, sweat dampened the fabric of the mask as it clung to his forehead. His shirt was torn and his torso bleeding after the knife-wielding criminal he'd just fought now sat handcuffed in the back of a police car. He was tired and ready to end the evening, but somehow his feet had taken him to your building. It was a place he’d been avoiding ever since what had happened the last time he’d tried to stop by your apartment just about a week ago.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d ended up on your rooftop again tonight, or what had even compelled him to carefully lower himself down the side of the building towards your fire escape. Though he’d been hesitant to throw his senses into your apartment tonight, nervous of a repeat situation. But you were in fact asleep this time. He could hear your even breaths and your steady heartbeat coming from your bedroom as confirmation.

With a faint sigh of relief, Matt focused on your fire escape next. Easily enough, he caught the usual scent of food that meant you were still loyally keeping the Devil’s Pantry just outside your window for him even though he hadn't taken anything out of it in two weeks. A tinge of guilt hit him at that realization. He’d been avoiding your place, but you’d still been thinking about him. Despite his absence, you'd still been worried about him staying fed and hydrated.

Crossing the two small steps towards the bin, Matt crouched down and removed the lid with a wince, the cuts on his torso stinging at the movement. If he was here, he figured he should probably leave some sign of it. Some sign acknowledging that he still appreciated you leaving this out for him–like actually taking something out of it.

Reaching a hand inside the container, Matt grabbed a bottle of water. He pulled it out and twisted off the lid before drinking half the bottle down in a matter of a few deep gulps. Feeling a little more refreshed, he found himself grateful that you were still this thoughtful despite the silence on his end of this unusual friendship. Though Matt had convinced himself that you most likely didn't mind that he had stopped barging in on you all of the time. You were seeing that guy now. You had other things going on to occupy your thoughts and your time. The Devil’s Pantry only remained on your fire escape because you appreciated what the Devil did for the Kitchen. That was the only reason.

Setting the partially drunk water bottle down beside his feet, Matt reached a hand back into the container. He’d been going to grab a protein bar, but his gloved hand hit something flimsy, the sound of paper rustling meeting his ears. He froze, a frown settling on his lips. Had you left him a note again?

Withdrawing his hand from the bin, he worked on removing his glove before setting it on the fire escape beside his feet. With his other hand, he reached back inside the bin to pull the slip of paper out. His ungloved fingers ran over the top of your note and the unmistakable indentations of a pen met his fingertips. You had in fact left him a note, but one so short that he didn’t need to repeatedly trace his fingers over it to make sense of it this time.

I miss you, Devil.

The frown deepened on Matt’s mouth, his lips twisting in confusion. What had you meant by that? Did you really miss his unannounced visits? Didn't you have that guy to occupy your time with now? Weren't you appreciative that he was leaving you alone and giving you your privacy?

Maybe you missed the jokes between you both–Matt certainly did. You were always so funny. And he hated to admit it, but if there really was some sort of friendship that had formed between the pair of you, communication was required to maintain it. Which meant checking in with each other. Talking. But how was he supposed to stand in your apartment and hold a conversation with you after how he'd eavesdropped–despite his best attempts not to–on such a personal moment of yours that he'd then shamefully taken far too much pleasure in the last time he’d stopped by?

His fingers ran over the little note again, his focus on the soft lines and gentle curves of your handwriting. As he read it once more, the steady sound of your heartbeat in his ears, he heard the words as if you’d spoken them in his ear.

I miss you, Devil.

His attention shifting from the note in his hand, he focused on your bedroom window next to the fire escape. A frown tugged at his lips as he continued to listen to your even breaths.

“I miss you, too, angel,” he whispered.

Partially distracted, you tried to focus on putting away the load of clean dishes that had recently finished washing in your dishwasher. For the entirety of the night all you’d been able to think about was the new mistake you'd managed to make earlier at work. While truthfully it hadn't been that big of a deal, your least favorite co-worker had made sure to take every opportunity to torment you about it today. And that had only made things worse.

Simply put, today had been a bad day for you. It also didn't help that it had been over two weeks since you'd last seen the Devil. And you knew he'd finally stopped by your apartment three nights ago to grab some water and snacks out of your Devil’s Pantry because a few items had finally been removed after the past couple of weeks of it remaining untouched. So you knew he'd read the note you'd left for him. But you still hadn't seen him since, and at this point you were convinced that he really was done with you.

So you'd come home miserable tonight and had immediately gone into a stress-induced cleaning frenzy. You'd folded the laundry that had once more piled up in your bedroom after throwing another load into the wash in the building's laundry facility downstairs. You'd not only scrubbed your bathroom sparkling clean, but you'd even dusted and swept the whole apartment. Afterwards, still trying hard not to think about your disappointment at never seeing the Devil again, you'd methodically organized the clothes in your closet by color. You'd only paused long enough to throw together the saddest salad, too morose to actually cook tonight, before moving on to emptying your dishwasher.

You wondered if your note had been the final nail in the coffin for the Devil and your friendship. Because he had eventually come back just once after you'd made the mistake of toying with his jealousy. That had to mean something, right? But then why had admitting you missed him made him disappear again? You figured he'd want to know you'd been thinking about him if he was jealous.

Maybe you should have written him a longer note. A note that told him you'd ended things with Dylan a long time ago. That you sat in wait for him pathetically every night just for a glimpse of him outside your window. That you couldn't stop thinking about him. That you wanted him.

But you'd once again lost the opportunity to tell him how you felt. And now you'd never have the chance.

With a heavy heart, you set the two glasses you were holding up on the cabinet shelf. Turning back towards your half-empty dishwasher, you headed back over and bent down to pull out one of your larger knives from the top rack. But as you stood back up, a voice to your left startled you so much that you jumped on the spot.

“You still kept it unlocked.”

Head darting over your shoulder, your eyes widened in shock when you saw the Devil standing just beyond your kitchen in his black, form fitting suit. Mouth falling open in surprise, you couldn't believe he'd actually come back. You'd been positive he was gone from your life forever.

“You–you’re here,” you stammered a little breathlessly. “I–ah!”

A sharp stinging burned its way up your arm just as the Devil’s head tilted to the side. Before you could even register another thought beyond pain, his lips had set into a firm line as he darted across the room straight towards you. You’d caught the soft, panicked curse he'd muttered under his breath as he hurried to your side.

Glancing down at where the pain was focused on your arm, you gasped at the sight. Blood was seeping out of a cut along the top of your forearm. Judging from the red on the edge of the knife in your other hand, you must've accidentally cut yourself when you'd startled and then been too shocked at the sight of the black-clad Devil to immediately realize you'd even been hurt.

Black gloved hands were on you immediately. One of the Devil’s hands gently grasped your injured arm while the other carefully retrieved the knife from your other hand. He was silent as he set the knife down on the counter behind himself before he returned his attention to your injury. Delicately twisting your wrist back and forth in his hold, his masked face focused on your cut as he examined it.

“You're lucky,” his gravelly voice said. “Doesn't sound like a deep cut.”

Face screwing up at the comment, your eyes darted up to his masked one. Curiously you watched him through narrowed eyes as he stood there still tenderly grasping your arm in his hand and examining the damage you’d accidentally done with your knife. What did he mean by it not sounding like a deep cut? Didn’t he mean that it didn’t look like a deep cut? Had he just misspoken? As much as you’d been tempted to ask for clarification, after going weeks without seeing him you weren’t feeling inclined to take the risk of asking and touching on something personal that would send him running away from you again.

“I should clean this,” he murmured, still focused on your arm. “Don’t need you getting an infection. You’ll certainly need a bandage, but it doesn’t seem deep enough to need stitches.”

His face finally rose, his eyes behind the mask seeming to fix on you now. You could feel your heart pounding a little harder beneath his mysterious covered gaze; it had been so long since you’d last felt the weight of it on you.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.

Blinking rapidly, you tried to focus on the answer to his question and not the fact that he was here and that you’d also just accidentally sliced yourself with a knife. It didn’t help that his gloved hand was still so carefully holding your wrist.

“It’s–it’s in the bathroom,” you answered, voice still coming out a little breathless. “Under the vanity.”

His head cocked curiously to the side. “There a towel I can use to clean this in there, too?” he asked next.

You nodded, still partially in a daze. “Mhmm,” you hummed back.

He released your hand, his head gesturing behind himself to your couch. “Sit,” he ordered. “I'll be right back.”

The Devil turned, striding his way across your apartment and towards the bathroom with an urgency in his steps. He moved without making much sound as you stared after his retreating form. You genuinely wondered how he did that. He really was just like a cat.

Still in shock that he was even here, you maneuvered around the kitchen counter and headed over towards your couch. As you settled down onto the cushions, you glanced over at the short hallway he’d disappeared down and held your bleeding arm upright. Curiously you noted he hadn't even bothered turning on the bathroom light in his haste so that he could see what he was doing. But by the time you’d had that thought, he was already making his way back out of your bathroom, clearly having found what he wanted as he brought the items over.

The Devil sat on the couch beside you before reaching over towards your coffee table to set down the first aid kit and the damp towel. In silence you watched as he began peeling his gloves off of his hands one at a time, the innocent gesture somehow seeming to cause your blood to heat. You swore you could feel his own body heat radiating off of him from where he sat so close beside you removing each glove, your eyes focused on the deft movements of his fingers.

It didn’t help that you were far too aware of how close his large thigh was to your leg right now. You couldn’t resist glancing down at it, staring at how easily it filled out the black pants he wore. Curiously you wondered if you’d even be able to fit both of your hands around the circumference of his thigh with how thick and muscular it was. Swallowing thickly, you felt your body warm a bit further, your mind going to places it shouldn’t have been going right now. Like sitting on his lap.

Your attention had been so focused on his leg in his tight pants that when he turned back towards you, you visibly startled on the couch. The Devil paused with the damp towel in his hand as he stared back at you, clearly having caught the way you’d jumped. The corner of his lip twitched, almost as if he’d wanted to smile, but then his expression quickly returned serious.

“Give me your arm,” he ordered.

Gnawing on your bottom lip, you awkwardly held it out towards his awaiting hand. Gingerly his fingers wrapped around your wrist, drawing it further towards himself as his masked face once more focused on your cut. His other hand began lightly washing the blood that had coated your forearm with the towel, goosebumps beginning to dot your skin under his attention.

The Devil had never quite touched you like this before when he’d visited you in the past. The hold he had on your wrist was delicate despite the roughness of his fingers. There was also care in the way he was methodically cleaning your small wound, almost as if he’d done this before on someone besides himself. You found yourself wondering about that for a minute, curious as to who it would’ve been that this man had often tended to like this.

“Keep this right here,” he told you. “I’m not done yet.”

With the blood cleaned from your arm, the Devil momentarily released it from his hold before he leaned over towards your coffee table, setting down the damp rag. Opening your first aid kit, his hands reached inside and his fingers fumbled around, shuffling items out of his way as he searched for what he wanted. Eventually you saw him grab a cotton ball and that tube of Neosporin you’d used on the injury for his ass a few weeks ago. The sight of it immediately reminded you of that night and how you’d messed up, and the sudden urge to rectify that situation before he disappeared on you again hit you hard as you watched him smear the ointment on a cotton ball.

You cleared your throat as he once more grabbed your wrist with his hand, his other one gently dabbing the ointment over your cut. Wincing slightly as he worked, you tried to find a way to begin the discussion you wanted to have. With how quiet the Devil currently was this evening, it didn't seem like he’d be sticking around for conversation much longer after he finished bandaging your arm.

“So uh–”

“I’m sorry for this,” he murmured, cutting you off.

Brows drawing together at his unexpected apology, you watched him in confusion as he reached over and set the cotton ball down on your coffee table. Briefly he released your wrist again, his hands searching for the correct size bandage in your kit.

“What do you mean?” you asked him. “It’s not like you stabbed me. Pretty sure I was the one holding the knife, Devil.”

“I shouldn’t have just barged in,” he replied, picking up the bandage he wanted and beginning to open the package. “I scared you. Should’ve known you were holding a knife.”

Your head tilted curiously to the side, your brows still knitted together. One of these days you were determined to figure out what he meant by all these odd things he said. Assuming, of course, he kept coming back long enough.

“It was an accident,” you reminded him. “You don’t have to apologize for an accident.”

He emitted a single grunt in response as his warm fingers once more encircled your wrist. His other hand very carefully laid out the bandage over your forearm before his fingertips gently smoothed it down over your skin. Eyelids fluttering beneath the tender, light touch, you once more felt your pulse accelerate. But when he spoke again, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach.

“There,” he said, placing your arm back into your lap. “I’d keep it from getting wet in the shower for a day, but otherwise you should be alright.”

“Thanks,” you replied, scared he was about to bolt any second now that he'd finished his task. “I suppose of the two of us, you would be the one to know about healing knife wounds.”

This time, the corner of his mouth did pull up into a faint smile. The sight of it gave you the sudden courage to speak before you could stop yourself–or before he left.

“Did you read my note?” you blurted.

He’d been reaching back out towards your coffee table for his gloves, but at your question he’d paused with his hand outstretched above it. You saw the muscle twitch in his cheek before he continued retrieving his gloves from off the table. Nervous sweat pricked at your palms as you waited for his response.

“Yes,” he answered a little stiffly. “I did.”

Terrified of how to broach the topic, you just continued barreling forward, trying to choose honesty. After all, you either scared him away or you didn’t at this point. You were hoping the truth–or at least some of it–might keep him returning to your window.

“You’d disappeared for a while,” you cautiously pointed out. “I…missed you.”

“Figured you'd been busy,” he stated simply. “Didn't want to bother you.”

“Busy?” you asked, pulling a face. “Busy with what?”

“Your new boyfriend,” the Devil answered.

The way he'd said the word ‘boyfriend’ with such obvious distaste had been all the verbal confirmation you needed. Beside you, he'd begun pulling his gloves back on. You figured it was now or never to have this conversation with him.

“He was never my boyfriend, Devil,” you told him. “We never made it past that second date. I ended things before they'd really even started. The day after your last visit, actually.”

The Devil's hands hesitated as he'd been fastening his last glove on. His body stiffened beside you on the couch, his masked face almost determinedly focused away from you.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “I thought you liked him?”

Feeling an embarrassed flush spreading its way up your neck, you glanced down at your own hands. “When I told you about that kiss, I wasn't entirely honest with you,” you began carefully. “It wasn't like any other kiss I'd had before because it was devoid of anything in it. There wasn't any spark, I mean.”

Your hands began fidgeting faster with the hem of your shirt. Trying to admit your attraction to him was more terrifying than you anticipated it to be, especially because he was now sitting quietly beside you. His silence was somehow making him even more intimidating.

“And I felt that with someone else,” you continued slowly. “So I didn't want to keep dragging Dylan along when I knew that it wasn't going to work out,” you confessed. “Because I–” you sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as the words came out in a rush, “–have been attracted to you for a really long time now. Pretty much since you fell on my fire escape.”

Exhaling the breath, you bit your lip and glanced over at the Devil from the corner of your eye. He'd gone completely immobile on your couch now. You weren't entirely sure if he was about to confess his own attraction or run for your window with how still he’d grown, and that had your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.

“Can you please say something before I puke?” you asked awkwardly. “The lack of words coming out of your mouth is making me nervous.”

The Devil’s head swung in your direction, your pulse somehow increasing further at the abrupt gesture. Fingers still toying with the hem of your shirt, you felt your breath come in faster.

“This can't be what you want it to be,” he stated. “We're just friends. That’s it.”

“Okay,” you replied slowly, still refusing to meet his gaze. “But can you be honest? Those two times in my apartment–you know which ones. We almost kissed, didn't we? I'm not crazy, am I?”

The Devil abruptly rose to his feet at your questions. He began to hurriedly skirt around your coffee table and you knew exactly where he was headed. He was running away. Leaving. Panicked, you rose from the couch, determined to finish this conversation.

“There was something there,” you continued, chasing after him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice it.”

“It's just attraction,” he told you, shaking his head as he walked. “That's all that was. I don't want you mistaking it for anything else.”

Brows drawing together in confusion, you halted in place, staring at his retreating form as it continued towards your window. Trying to ignore the way your stomach had fluttered at his admission to being attracted to you, you knew you needed to think fast if there was ever a hope of him returning to your apartment. And after two weeks without a sighting of him, you desperately wanted him to come back. So much so that you stupidly spoke without thinking.

“Who says it has to be more than that?” you blurted out.

The Devil stopped in his tracks, his masked face shifting over his shoulder back towards you. Swallowing hard, you wondered what the hell had compelled you to say that and internally you blamed that tight black suit. But you quickly latched onto that idea since it had actually caused him to stop his retreat.

“I'm attracted to you, too,” you admitted awkwardly, the words falling out of you without much forethought. “Why does it have to be anything more than that? Anything more than…friends who are attracted to each other?”

His head tilted to the side, his mouth a straight, hard line as he stared back at you beneath his mask. Wrapping your arms around yourself, you felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach at his pause.

“Because I know that's what you want,” he finally answered. “Something more. And I'm not about to become your boyfriend. It wouldn’t work. I don't do relationships.”

You shrugged, shaking your head at him. “With respect, Devil, don't tell me you know what I want,” you shot back. “Because I can still be your friend who is sometimes…more than that. Right? I mean I'm–I'm open to it if you are. I know what I felt those two times when you were here. Don’t tell me you didn’t feel it, too.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides, your eyes drawn down at the movement. Briefly you wondered what that was about before he spoke again, your attention returning to his masked face.

“I don't think what you're suggesting is a good idea,” he warned you, voice dropping to something lower. “You don't even know me.”

“I know you well enough, Devil,” you countered.

He gave a grunt in response, his head darting forward as he once more focused on your window. You felt your entire body deflate as he continued towards it, throwing it open wide before he climbed through it. When he was standing on your fire escape, you watched helplessly as he reached up and grabbed a hold of the window. There was a stern set to his lips that had you worried this could truly be what scared him away once and for all.

“Goodnight, angel,” he stated.

Shoulders dropping in defeat, you watched as he slammed the window shut before he turned and tossed himself over your fire escape. He was gone before you’d even known how to recover from the situation.

With a sigh you turned around, dejectedly making your way back to your couch. Sinking into the cushions and burying your face in your hands, you wondered how you kept managing to mess things up with him. Why the hell had you gone and just offered to be the Devil’s friend with benefits tonight? Especially since you knew you had actual feelings forming for him and wanted more than just something physical–no matter how much you really wanted that, too. Clearly he wanted to keep things strictly friendly, but now you really had gone and made a mess of things. All you could do was find hope in the fact that he’d said ‘goodnight’ and not ‘goodbye’ this time.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #daredevil

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sithfox · 7 months ago

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Today's snippet is from Setting Fires to Keep You Warm, part 2 (current outline has it at nine parts total). It's a few months after Fox first arrives on Coruscant.

It would be great, Fox thinks tiredly, if these damn assassins would just get the hint. He pops up from his hiding spot behind Amidala's secretary's desk and nails three goons in a row before dropping back down behind the sturdy furniture. At least he had been here checking in with the Senator's team about her upcoming travel plans when they decided to attack: preventing a kidnapping is much easier than rescuing someone.

The woman beside him is fiddling with something electronic, teeth bared as she twists two wires together and whips it at the crowd at the door. One of Amidala's handmaidens, her hood has fallen and exposed her blonde hair in disarray from Fox tackling her down behind the desk. There's a loud bang and several shrieks of pain and she smirks, pleased with herself. Fox risks a glance past their shelter and is impressed despite himself—only two of the ten mercenaries are left standing, both much more heavily armored than their colleagues. Probably the ringleaders, then. He takes a split second to run through his options and decides to trust his instincts. "Cover me," he tells the handmaiden, then rolls out from behind their shelter and throws himself towards his remaining foes.

#the handmaiden is eritaé ❤️#in this fic the OG handmaidens are still in Padmé's employ in various positions #Eritaé is her tech expert/IT gal/slicer #eritaé #commander fox #series: setting fires to keep you warm #naboo royal handmaidens #fic snippet

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vivwritesfics · 11 months ago

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Set The World On Fire

Chapter Six

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.7K

Series Masterlist

"You need to stop taking me places in a private jet or I'm gonna get used to the princess treatment," she said with a giggle as she looked out of the window, watching the clouds go by. Below them was nothing but ocean.

Lando put his drink down. "C'mere," he said, beckoning her over.

She left her seat and walked over to him. Lando patted his suit clad thighs and she sat down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. They hadn't been dating for long; it was the most intimate thing they had ever done.

Lando had his arms wrapped around her. "Get used to the princess treatment," he said. "That's all you're gonna get with me." He kissed her cheek as she laid her head on his chest.

That was how they sat together on their flight to Spain. "What's your sister's fiancé's name?" She asked, her hand resting over his beating heart.

"Carlos," he answered. "He's an ass."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he can't be that bad, he is gonna be your brother in law, after all."

"Trust me, baby, he's the worst."

Baby. She liked that. She really liked that. "Tell me everything I need to know. Who's gonna be there? Who of your family should I expect to meet?" She asked eagerly.

Lando couldn't stop himself from smiling. It was something he had noticed, that the only time he smiled was when she was with him. There was no way he could get through the wedding without her.

"Okay, so you've got Carlos and his sister. I've only met them once, but from what I remember, they just whisper mean things between each other in Spanish. Then there is Carlos's parents, Sainz and Mrs Sainz, his wife. I'll try and keep you away from them. Everyone else? I'll introduce them as you meet them," he said, his hand moving across her thigh.

She suppressed the shiver that ran down her spine. His fingers were so soothing. "What about your family?"

Lando shook his head. "My mum is dead, my step mum is dead, and my dad is almost dead," he said, his grip on her tightening.

"Shit, Lan," she whispered, hands reaching up to run through his curls. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise, I never told you," he mumbled.

His phone went off, but Lando ignored it. She kissed the top of her head and squeezed her. "Thank you for coming," he whispered. "I seriously couldn't do this without you."

It wasn't long before they touched down in the Sainz family's private hangar. It was full of other private jets, from the other families that had arrived for the wedding. Lando took her hand and led her out of the jet. There was a car waiting for them when they stepped out into the warm Spanish air.

Lando opened the door to the car for her. "Such a gentleman," she said with a grin as she climbed into the car. Lando followed her in and placed his arm over her shoulders.

Their bags were placed into the back of the car and their driver set off. The fact that they had a driver was crazy. "How do you and your sister know Carlos?" She asked, settling against his side.

It was hitting her just how little she knew about him. And with every passing moment, the number of questions she had just grew.

Lando thought on his answer. It was easy for her to assume that it had been so long since they met that he didn't remember. "Our dads did business together a few years back," he answered simply.

She let out a laugh, her body gently shaking against him. "Seriously, Lan. Who the hell are you?"

Lando squeezed her shoulder. "Have you seen Legend?"

"The movie?"

He nodded his head.

"Lando, are you telling me you're a gangster?" She asked him, unable to hide the laugh about to erupt from her lips.

"No! No, but I'm essentially Ronnie Kray," he answered.

"Ronnie Kray, the gangster that sold protection to people?"

Well, that was part of that he did. "Yeah, but I'm not a gangster and everything I do is legal."

He was a fucking mystery.

***

Lando felt incredibly guilty about leaving her in the hotel room. But Hamilton had called for a meeting and, being the representative for the Norris family, he had to attend.

"I'll be gone an hour at most," Lando said as he leaned over to kiss her.

"Lan, it's fine," she said and pulled a book from her bag. "Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" She called.

Lando let out a laugh. That kind of high pitched shrieking laugh that she was already in love with. "I'll try not to," he said and kissed her again.

He walked out of the hotel room as she cracked open her book.

Lando couldn't hide his smile as he climbed into the car waiting for him. It was already full of other heads of family or their representatives. Lando sat himself beside Magnussen and Perez. Max Verstappen, representing the Verstappen family, sat opposite him, with Mick Schumacher beside him.

Mick was... different. He wasn't representing the Schumacher family. But his father died before he was ready to takeover the family. The Verstappens tried to take Mick and his family in, but Schumacher had a plan in place in case of his death. He didn't want Jos looking after his family, and had instead sent them to the Wolff family.

That was who Mick was representing. His name was Schumacher, but he was representing the Wolff family.

"You brought someone?" Max asked Lando as he sat down.

Lando slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, I did," he said, not elaborating further.

"Is she... aware of what's going on?" Mick asked.

Lando sucked in a breath. "No," he answered, looking at the other representatives. "She hasn't got a clue.

Max leaned forward. "Interesting," he said, wearing a little smirk. "What did you tell her?"

"She's called me a gangster, and we're gonna leave it at that."

Max sat back in his seat, hands clasped together in his lap. "Good luck with that," he said, turning his attention to the window.

It was obvious what Max was thinking. Of course it was a bad idea to take her to a mafia wedding when she had no idea what was going on. But Lando wanted her protected from that world. The less she knew, the more protected she was. She could still get out.

Perez shook his head. "Bad idea, man," he said. "I didn't tell my wife and I almost lost her."

Lando didn't answer him.

The car pulled up outside of Sainz's house. They filled out of the car, one by one. Three more cars were already outside of the house, and it was clear they were the last ones there.

Lando walked into the house with Max. Just a few years before they would have been talking and laughing like kids while their fathers worked. But now they were the ones working in their fathers steed.

"How are you holding up?" Max asked quietly as they walked through the Sainz house.

Lando let out a breath, just grateful that Max had waited until they were out of the car to ask. He looked around the Sainz house, the house he had been in just weeks before. "She's somewhere in here," he said. "I just wanna know how she is."

They walked into the Library. Several chairs were set around a table, most of them filled. In the corner of the room was a much smaller table, a chess set on it. Lando knew exactly who had set that up.

He sat down and Max sat on his right. Alonso was on his left and the other heads of family filled the table. Carlos was there, sat beside his father.

The most commanding presence at the table was Hamilton. He gave Lando a slow nod as a drink was placed in front of him.

As soon as they all had drinks, Hamilton stood, glass in his hand. "As per tradition, we are here to celebrate the union of the Sainz family and the Norris family. The trading routes between Norris and Sainz will be reopened, benefitting all of us. Lets discuss product and trading route."

Clearing his throat, Lando stood with the speech his father had prepared for him. "This decade of war between our family has affected The Norris family and it's ability to move our product into other Spain and other European countries. This union will not only help reignite our relationship with the Sainz family, but will aid in our strengthening our relationship with the Ferrari family."

He placed the cards his father had written out for him into his pocket. "I do think it's unnecessary to involve my sister in things."

Brown eyes snapped towards him. "Hijo de puta." (Motherfucker).

Having said his piece, Lando sat down. He wasn't paying much attention as other heads of families discussed what the reopening of the trading route would do for them.

After five minutes, he stood up. He wordlessly left the room, navigating his way down the hall and into the kitchen, towards the bathroom.

But somebody was already in the kitchen. The fridge door was open as somebody, dressed in most of a fine suit, pulled cold beers from the fridge. He held them in his arms, used his elbow to shut the fridge and turned around.

He nearly dropped them when he saw Lando. "Oscar!" He called.

Oscar rushed to put the beers on the table. He threw his arms around Lando and patted his back. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you until tomorrow," he said, his hand on his shoulder.

"Hamilton called a meeting," he said.

Oscar nodded, making a mental note to keep her in her room for the night.

"How is she?"

Oscar breathed deep. "She's... coping," he said. "We're gearing up for one last fun night before the wedding." He pointed back to the beers and Lando nodded his head.

"Look after her for me, yeah?"

"I will."

Lando helped Oscar place the beers into his arms and sent him on his way.

a/n: (wow i never do these, this feels weird) Sup guys! So i mentioned the Kray twins and, for those that don't know, they were london gangsters in the 1950's (check out the film legend its soooo good). It feels like a gamble putting mention of them in here and if anybody is offended, send me an ask and I'll change it! (i purposefully didn't mention Reggie for obvious reasons)

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zkg2318 · 1 month ago

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Blood on Fire ~ pt. 2 | SJY

A/N: this is part 2 of the BOF series! I have decided to divide this story up by who's sex scene is in it, but in order to fully understand the story, you must start with part 1 and finish (if you want). they are plot driven, and context will not make sense if you start with part 2, etc... Also lol, this was a bit longer than i thought it'd be

genre/tags/warnings for this part ✶ MDNI, reverse harem!hyung line x afab!reader, angst, smut, gore and violence, supernatural themes, stabbing, mentions of alcohol, blood, verbal and physical violence, manipulation, fightclub au, ot7

synopsis ✶ In a city where the supernatural are arrested on sight, the only refuge for their pent-up rage is “The Enha Arena”- an exclusive, hidden venue where creatures engage in brutal, blood-soaked battles with one another. Concealed beneath the unassuming exterior of “Dusk and Dawn,” a gym that serves as the front of a totally legal business, this underground fight club acts as the epicenter for this violent world where supernatural beings not only fight for dominance and pride but for the sheer thrill of it all. In dire need of some money, you find yourself drawn into the fight club when you come across a black market job posting- an offer for a new trainer at the gym. Desperate for new ways to keep your own abilities under wraps and even learn about other supernatural beings, you accept the position, completely unaware of the dangers and complicated relationships that await you

WC ✶ 16.4k

Part 1

smut warnings under the cut

smut warnings ✶ monster erotica (obviously), breeding kink, dry humping, love biting, mix of praise and degradation, oral male!receiving, slight choking, fingering, unprotected sex (stop)

Coming into the gym the next evening, you notice the atmosphere is noticeably lighter, the tension from before seemingly lifted into thin air. You notice K first, towering over the others as he stands amongst the six other boys standing around him. “You guys are early,” you observe, dropping your gym bag onto the bench beside you.

When you pass by Jake, the muscles in his jaw tighten while the hairs on his neck stand straight like the hackles of a tense wolf. His face twists into a scowl as he watches you pass him. You pretend not to notice his reaction, likely residual distaste from the question you asked him yesterday. “Are we all buddy-buddy now?” you ask, eyeing the proximity of the group with suspicion in your gaze. You narrow your eyes at the group, a huddle of boys that stand too close for comfort, their shoulders brushing against each other as they chip at the other’s pride in friendly banter.

Jungwon and Sunoo exchange a quick glance when they catch on to the tone in your voice, prompting them to shift awkwardly in their stance as they wait for someone to answer. Niki steps up to the battering plate, a large grin on his face as he addresses you, “K came in early to apologize to Heeseung and talk to us about where his outburst came from.” Niki’s voice carries a note of relief as he gestures over towards K and Heeseung, but you notice that Heeseung doesn’t lift his gaze to meet K’s when the taller boy looks down at him. In fact, he doesn’t look at anyone for that matter. “We had a chance to clear the air up before today’s session.”

You look around for a second before nodding, not wanting to dwell in the past any longer. There was no need to dig any deeper- it wasn’t your business to pry anyways. Remaining ignorant has been conditioned into you by the age of 8. “Ok, well today will be pretty laid back now. Just focus on your own thing, no sparring or training room today.”

The boys respond to your instructions with a chorus of yes’s, quickly breaking off into two groups and migrating to their preferred areas. Jungwon, Niki, and Sunoo head for the squat rack, settling into an easy rhythm as Niki sets up the weights while Sunoo and Jungwon begin with a leg warm up. Meanwhile, K, Heeseung, Jake, and Jay move towards the bench press, their arms flailing as they debate about who gets to go first.

When you hear a door slam shut, you whip around to see Minnie and Yuqi entering the gym accompanied by a few unfamiliar faces following after them. Minnie’s face lights up when she spots you, her body developing a yellow glow as she unlinks her arm from Yuqi’s and runs to you. She greets you with a wide smile, one that melts away the tense knot straining against your heart as she pulls you into a warm hug. “Hi!”

Yuqi catches up to Minnie, opting to stand off to the side with her arms crossed and a reserved expression lined across her face. “I came down to help train the other folks that just came in,” she explains, offering you a warm smile that’s juxtaposed to the reserved one seconds ago, “You don’t have to worry about them.”

Minnie’s eyes sweep across the room, scanning around for the seven boys. She has an expectant gaze in her eyes, one that shines with joy. “Is everyone here already?”

“Just waiting for Sunghoon,” you tell her, “The maknaes are over by the squat rack if you want to head over there. I’ll be with the others.”

Minnie nods her head at you excitedly and skips away to the squat racks, flashing a bright smile at the younger boys. You can’t help but grin to yourself as you catch bits and pieces of her friendly exchange with them, her teasing remarks about Niki’s squat form earning a bloom of red on his cheeks. When Yuqi takes her leave, you walk over to the benches where your own group is, catching them mid-conversation on whatever it is they were talking about.

“You really shot fire out of your nose?” Jake asks, eyes wide with disbelief as he bounces his leg up and down on the bench.

“Again?” Heeseung clarifies.

You clear your throat, making the group aware of your presence as you shoot them a questionable expression. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Definitely not.” Jay says, shooting them a look.

You move around to the front of the bench, facing Jake who is now avoiding your gaze. “Right… Well, as much as I would love to learn more about your flaming boogers, I do want to see you guys bench press without the distractions.”

Jay’s cheeks burn red as he quickly shoves Jake off the bench in embarrassment, earning a strong jab to Jay’s shoulder. “Damnit!” Jake growls, his face twisting into a grimace as he raises his fist up to his mouth to suck on the blood that starts to drip from his knuckles. You shift around the bench to peer at Jake’s hand, watching as his tongue laps at the wound vigorously until there’s nothing but unbroken skin replacing what was once a nasty cut.

“Why do you think we wear wraps when we spar?” Jay says with dripping sarcasm, moving to plant his feet firmly against the ground and arching his back off the bench slightly. Your eyes trail down Jay’s body, stopping when they land the gleaming molten of Jay’s dragon scales dawning his shoulders. Realization clicks in your head and you let a small chuckle escape your lips- Jake must’ve sliced himself on Jay’s scale armor. They’re identical to the ones you saw on his back when you not so casually roped him into a pull-up contest on your first day.

A rhythmic flow of conversation continues to course through you and the boys as Jay powers through 8 reps on the bench like it’s nothing, muscles rippling like a coil with every motion.

For the first time in your life, a sense of complacency washes over you. For once in your life, you let go of that long-held breath that had been keeping you underwater for so long. Constantly looking over your shoulders in fear of being caught etched a long-lasting knot in your shoulder you weren’t sure was gonna go away, but it seems like it has.

Here, in this space, you’re surrounded by people just like you, mirroring both the anxiety and the anger that has ridden itself so deep within you. Here, you let your guard down. But this moment is short-lived, just a fragile illusion blinding you to a brewing storm that gathers just beyond the horizon.

The doors to the Dusk gym slam open, the chains on the outside of it snapping with a force that only heavy machinery could break. A group of men, clad in matching blue uniforms march inside, their polished black boots echoing against the ground as their presence silences all other activity. “Routine government inspection!” The lead inspector announces, his voice booming with authority as he surveys the space before him. “Please resume your activities as normal.”

The world seems to tilt in that moment, filling with a suffocating air that leaves you breathless. There’s a dark void that puts itself in the seat of your stomach, waving at you with a taunt as if to say, you really thought. Your feet seem to grow 50 pound weights on them as the officials get closer, keeping you rooted to the spot. The freeze part of fight, flight, or freeze activates without the help of Sunghoon staring daggers into your back this time.

The official’s words do little to ease the tension as you feel a rise of panic wash through you, a ripple of unease rattling your core. The boys beside you begin to murmur in a panic as they instinctively move to crowd around you, as if proximity alone could shield you from the horrors of the government- but you pay no attention to it as your eyes shoot over to Yuqi, naturally finding her presence like a beacon in the midst of the sudden chaos. She maneuvers her way over to you with Minnie not trailing far behind.

“They’re going to kill us all!” Niki’s panicked voice cuts through your fragile storm as he joins the group along with the rest of the maknaes, their unease mirroring the rest of the gym’s murmured anxieties.

“What the hell do we do?” you whisper, bile rising in your throat as its acidity begins to scorch your esophagus, threatening to choke you.

Yuqi looks just as scared as you do, and for a moment, she lets her snake eyes widen with worry before she composes herself. “Calm down,” she hisses, taking a moment to let her eyes change color and her pupils expand to that of a humans. “We need to get suppressants on every member before they finish setting up their scanners.” Her voice is rushed and tight as she tugs on Minni’s hand.

All three of your eyes flick over towards the group of officials, their movements a blur of blue as they set up folding tables. They work efficiently to get scanners up onto the surfaces, the metal clanging with every touch. The threatening metal gleams under the harsh lighting of the gym, only reminding you of the nightmares that they bring. “Minnie,” Yuqi whispers. “I have a box of emergency suppressants under my desk- we need at least 14 of them. Bring them straight to me and do not let anyone see you.”

With an affirmative nod, Minnie runs off, careful not to bring any attention to herself as she slips away from the crowd and disappears upstairs. “I’ll handle everything else,” Yuqi finishes, “I’ll let the other gym members know what’s going on. Can you let the boys know?”

You nod your head at her, waiting for her to leave first before turning around. When she does, you take that moment by yourself to swallow the lump in your throat, the nausea in your stomach rolling like the ocean. With a shaky breath, you turn around and make your way back toward the bench where the remainder of the boys have now clustered, their whispered conversation barely audible over the clang of equipment being moved around.

“Everyone breathe, they’re just posturing.” K’s voice stands out amongst the rest, his usual air of confidence sweeping through the circle of boys.

Jay shakes his shoulders and twists his face into a grimace, “How can you be so sure?” he questions, an evident look of anger on his face.

“If they were so serious about this inspection and arresting the supernatural, they would just use those hand-held scanners,” K explains, leaning forward as he lowers his voice, “It’d be a hell of a lot more efficient and time-productive to use those instead of setting these stupid machines up. They’re only used on the trucks when they go out for their nighttime patrols. This whole setup is just a show to see if any of us panic, if we just act normal, they’ll pack up and leave.”

Jake lets out a scoff and kicks the air in annoyance, shuffling away from you when you come to join the discussion, “That’s a complete load of bull.” The other boys nod in agreement, seemingly apprehensive in believing K’s words.

K straightens up, brushing off Jake’s comment. “I’ll talk to them, get them to go away.” He breaks off from the impromptu circle that had formed around the bench and walks away, confidence radiating in his strides. Before he can get too far, you intercept K as he pulls away from the group, wrapping a hand around his forearm.

“Don’t,” you urge, voice low so no one else hears, “We’re going to use suppressants, so don’t.”

K gives you a look that you can’t quite decipher before tearing his arm free from your grip, continuing ahead without a word. The sudden absence leaves a ghost of tension in your heart, fingers tingling with a trembling heat that has you rooted to the spot. You hesitate in your spot, frustration clawing its way up your throat as you force yourself to trail after him, each step feeling heavier than the last.

The air grows cold and distant as you observe K, his usual confident stride not faltering as he gets closer to the enforcement division. You feel insignificant to his cause, like a kicked puppy that chases after their master despite the abuse. The boys close in behind you, the weight of their presence holding you from getting any closer to K as he approaches a burly man with a golden badge clipped to his belt, one that the rest don’t.

Your breath catches in your throat when you see K’s slender hand reach up to tap the man on the shoulder, “Hey, are you the one in charge of everything?” he asks.

“That’s correct,” the man turns around to face K. His gaze sweeps over the tall boy, slow and encroaching as though he’s sizing him up like a school bully. His face is worn out, fine wrinkles gracing his features as he stares hard at K. A quick glance at the rest of the officials has you realizing that they’re all very similar in age, sporting the same weathered look on their faces. Your mind jumps to the worst case scenario; if K fucked up, it’d be easy to eliminate those grandpas but the fallout would be messy to clean up. And that’s not considering the trouble later down the line that the unnecessary violence would bring. “Did you need something?”

K straightens his posture, jutting his chest out to appear more composed than how he feels. “I understand you have a job to do,” he begins, voice holding steady as he confronts the man, “but we do too. You’re wasting your time here.”

The man’s brow raises at the statement, his expression turning from annoyed to intrigued. “And why is that?”

The official’s response feeding into K’s claims has him high off of confidence, allowing him to continue with his confrontation with ease. “We had a government inspection last month.” He pulls out his phone and shows the man an image that neither you or the rest of the group could see. “We were cleared then, and we’ll be cleared now. Government inspections are only supposed to be conducted every 6 months, it’s not our fault the enforcement division can’t keep their records straight.”

The man looks wary, like he’s swayed to believe K’s proclamations, but his next response has that little resolve in you shattering. “Well, then you should have no problem letting us inspect your building.”

It’s like K wasn’t expecting the official to turn this on him, his face twisting into a small scowl. He whispers something to the official before taking a step back. “You’re correct, but right now, we are preparing to receive some high-profile clients for some weight training, and any disruption to their schedule will be noticed. I’m sure you wouldn’t want any complaints about wasting time and resources to reach your superiors, would you?”

The official presses his lips into a thin line, turning to glance back at his team. A thick silence follows after K, stretching on with every second that goes by. You hold your breath out of fear, feeling the thread of your pulse intensify and beat against your throat. Minnie finally comes down from the office, a hand bag hanging from your shoulder. She slips into the crowd behind you, nudging Yuqi in the side. You worry her movements may have alerted the team to her presence, but it’s almost like they’re looking for a reason outside of K’s words to not stay.

Finally, the man turns back and lets out a long breath. “Fine, but only because we’re running behind schedule already.”

With a quick flick of the hand, the officials begin to dismantle their equipment. Your jaw hangs open as you watch them leave, their presence disappearing as quickly as they appeared. Shock roots you to the spot as you stand there for a moment, disbelief rearranging your guts as you try to make sense of what just happened.

When K turns around, a huge smirk is plastered across his face and you step out of your haze to yell at him. “What the hell?” you snap, your voice breaking through the timid silence. “That could’ve gone so wrong!”

“But it didn’t,” he says, shrugging like he knew it was going to work out in the end.

Anger courses through your veins and you nearly punch the smirk off his face, clenching your fists at your side. You were mad, mad that he so carelessly risked everything to confront the government official. You’re upset with the way he thinks he can just act on impulse like that, as if his existence wasn’t also a threat to the government. You watch as K sinks down onto one of the side benches, casually tucking his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants like he hadn’t just risked his entire life on a fucking gamble. Before you can say anything more, Yuqi steps forward.

“That was extremely reckless K,” she starts, her voice sharp as she pushes up the frame of her glasses, “You could’ve had all of us arrested-”

“I don’t know,” Jake interrupts, his tone lighthearted as he crosses his arms, “I found it pretty damn impressive.”

“No one fucking asked you,” Sunghoon grumbles, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he clenches his fist.

The group erupts into a cacophony of back and forth, their debate ping-ponging between heavy accusations and lame defenses. The majority of the group sides with K, finding his actions admirable yet impulsive. The others, including you, Yuqi, and Jay disagree and state that it would have been better to stick with the suppressants. You find the majority of the group is handling this far too lightly, like you weren’t dancing on the outskirts of jail just minutes ago.

Amidst the loud and likely disruptive discussion, Jungwon stands off to the side in silence with his gaze fixed on the floor. His usual bright demeanor is overshadowed by a sudden solemness, an uncharacteristic stillness evading his body. Your gaze follows his moving body, one that is slowly backing away from the group. His grief stricken expression feels like a warning bell ringing in the back of your mind. You barely have the time to run through the concern in your head to notice his arms crossed tightly across his chest before you’re pulled back into the discussion.

“Guys, let’s just move on!” Sunoo says, flailing his hands into the air to express his annoyance. “K, thank you for getting them off our backs.” Quickly thanking K, he walks away from the group and moves to start packing up his bag.

Yuqi sighs next to you, frustration clearly evident in the way she holds her hands on her hips. “I think it’s best if we all just go home.” She announces, straightening out her silk blouse. Her voice is charged with authority, leaving no room for argument as she turns to walk away. Minnie springs in her steps and joins Yuqi, linking her arm in hers. The rest of the boys mumble in agreement, moving like zombies to collect their belongings; some on the bench and some in the locker room.

You linger in the tense space, the weight of the evening settling into your chest. You feel glued to the ground. The echo of the group's argument and yesterday’s heated intercourse with Heeseung float in the back of your mind like a tape on loop, holding you hostage in your spot. It feels suffocating, disabling you from drawing in a full breath as you fight your own thoughts. The air around you is heavy, weighed down by the storm of the conflict drenching your clothes. When would this back and forth with the government and the supernatural end? The thought nags at you, rooting its claws into your brain as tension builds in your shoulders.

Heeseung seems to pick up on your frozen troubles, smirking as he brushes past you to leave for the day. Your head loops back to yesterday and burdens your anxiety, replaying the way his hands travelled your body as if he had mapped you out a thousand times before. You didn’t know much about vampiric rage, but seeing it first hand had done enough for you to fear him- or want him, you weren’t sure. You swallow down the lump growing in your throat and glance back at Heeseung, letting your gaze linger a bit too long on his back as he walks away from you.

You let out a breathy sigh, slinging your bag over your shoulder. The 15 minute walk back to your place is done in utter silence, the only noise permeating through the evening air being the sound of your steps. Jungwon’s uncharacteristic behavior sticks into your side like a thorn and for some reason, you just can’t shake it. And K- his confidence was unsettling, rehearsed even. When you finally make it to your apartment, you don’t bother with unpacking your gym bag or changing out of your clothes. Although you didn’t really do much physically, the emotional turmoil of almost coming face to face with the end of your freedom stunted whatever energy you had left. Instead, exhaustion consumes you and you fall into an uneasy sleep on your bed.

When you wake up, it’s still dark outside which means it couldn’t have been past 5 am when a sharp knock on your window pulls you out of your slumber. You don’t care to check the clock though, too distracted by the rhythmic pattern of something hitting your window.

“What the-” you mutter, shuffling over to your window. You push open the glass and peer outside, straining your eyes to see past the few trees impending your vision. There’s nothing. You’re starting to wonder if you had imagined the noise, moving to shut the window. But as it’s about to close, something heavy slams into your chest, sending you backwards onto the floor.

Instinct kicks in and you immediately throw whatever it is off of you with supernatural strength. You flick your hand out and a ball of flame engulfs your limb, lighting up the dark room. The glow of your hand is bright enough to reach whatever slammed into you, revealing a large ball of fur. The mass is sprawled out on your kitchen counter while the doors to the cabinets above it hang by a nail. It lets out a guttural whimper and you move to switch the light on. When the pathetic bulb sputters to life, the ball of fur melts away and transforms into flesh. Jake.

He lies on your counter in front of you clutching at his side while he groans out in pain. His limbs kick off everything that was once neatly organized on your counter, the sheer size of him displacing everything in his path. “What the hell?” You shriek, extinguishing the embers in your palm.

“WHY’D YOU THROW ME?” He screams, rubbing his side as he clumsily falls off of your counter.

You throw him a look as you move to pick up your things, slamming them back on the counter with an annoyed thud. “You launched yourself through my window.” You baffle, wide eyed as you look at him. “Was I supposed to welcome you with open arms and a pat on the head?”

“Yeah, maybe even a kiss on the forehead.” He mutters, brushing his white t-shirt down as he takes a few steps towards you.

You narrow your eyes at him and hold your hand out to stop him before he gets any closer. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“Being a creep,” you deadpan, crossing your arms. “How did you even find me?”

He lets out a forced chuckle, lips forming into a cocky smirk as he swats your hand away. “I’m a werewolf, Y/n.” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I followed your scent. And I’m here because I want to claim you.” He forces himself into your space, shoving his face into the crook of your neck and drawing in a deep inhale.

You move your hands up to push against his chest, trying to pry him off of you but he doesn’t budge, only nuzzles in closer. “So you get to ignore me all day and scowl whenever I get too close to you, and then barge into my home and ruin my kitchen? Then suddenly you think you can claim me, whatever the hell that means?”

Jake pushes his hand against your mouth, shutting you up indefinitely as he continues his endeavors on your neck. “Stop talking,” he mumbles in between licks. The taste of your skin has Jake growling, your scent practically melting into his taste buds with every flick of his muscle. His warm tongue has you shaking under his hold and you instinctively tangle your fingers through his hair. “You smell so good,” he moans before rubbing himself against your thigh, using you as relief for his growing member.

With your scent getting him off like a dog in heat, he moves a hand down to your chest and gropes at the skin with desperate fervor, kneading the fat like dough. “Can’t believe you let Heeseung touch you,” he growls, nipping along your jaw. You let out a tiny whimper when his canines pinch your jaw, flinching away from his bites. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to control myself when you came into the gym today smelling like that fucking vampire?”

“I thought you guys were friends?” you say through broken breaths, writhing around in his grip. His wolf-like hold on you is unyielding, his sharp fingernails digging into your skin as you continue to move in his hold.

“We are, but that doesn’t mean he gets to have you.”

“Why does it matter so much to you if I slept with him?”

“Why do you ask so many fucking questions?” He buries his face into your shoulder while pushing you down onto your unmade bed, dragging himself down your body while his canines scrape your skin. He slots himself between your thighs, forcing them apart with his body. With Jake’s body on top of yours, you can’t deny the rush of emotions pulsing through you as he fucks you with his eyes. “So pretty, but so dirty.” Jake talks like he’s forcing some sort of claim on you, a completely different act of intimacy than with Heeseung.

Feeling overwhelmed, you let your hands wander to his back, finding their way under his shirt. You guide the fabric of his top up his back and drag your fingers across the ripple of his back muscles as he climbs around your body, claiming every inch of your skin with a harsh kiss. “Fuck, you’re not close enough.” He growls, roughly pulling you into his body.

The tough fabric of his denim jeans rub against your core which elicits an involuntary moan that only fuels Jake’s blind desire to have you. “Make that noise again.”

You press your mouth shut, an act of defiance in response to his intrusion into both your apartment and your body. Angry, Jake puts a hand up to your throat and bares his teeth in a snarl, “I said, make that noise again.”

His eyes glow with fury and he presses into you, grinding his hips into your core while shoving his tongue into your mouth. Another moan escapes you as you melt into his fast kisses, his tongue connecting with yours as you fight for dominance. The proximity of your bodies and the feeling of his wet tongue sliding into you mouth has your core burning with arousal. The seat of your panties are drenched with an embarrassing amount of slickness and he can feel the dampness of your underwear as he presses his hard on against you once more.

His grip on your neck tightens as he smiles into the kiss, thumb pressing gently against your carotid. You grow light headed as time goes on, absolutely drunk on the warmth of his lips against yours. He presses open mouthed kisses into your mouth for what feels like hours. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of breaks between kissing or the hand around your throat, but your vision begins to turn white as he moans into your mouth. When a gasp for air escapes you, he lets go, parting from your red face with a sneer. You reach out for his body, whining at the sudden loss but he just laughs. “Please…” you whimper, letting yourself go as arousal takes over.

“I knew you’d beg,” he pulls off of you completely now so he can take his jeans on, revealing what looks to be a painfully hard cock straining against the fabric of his black briefs. “Suck me off, pup.”

You scramble to get to your knees, settling between his legs while he rests against your headboard. His eyes bore into yours with an expectant gaze and you feel an overwhelming urge to submit. With his gaze piercing through you, you move your hand to rest above his pelvic bone but not yet touching where he needs you most. Before you can hook your fingers under his briefs, he grabs your wrist and pulls your attention away from the aching bulge staring at you. “I said suck me off, use your mouth. No hands.”

You cower under his words, red blooming across your face. Was he expecting you to take his underwear off with your mouth? “You can do it, I know you can, puppy.” He looks at you with an encouraging stare when you lean down to rest your head on his hip. With the affirmative nod of Jake, you move to bite at the waistband of his briefs. The fabric slips against your tongue and you wince as the taste of his musk and the underwears cotton fills your mouth.

With a little more effort, you manage to pull his briefs down far enough for his cock to spring free. It slaps loudly against his abdomen, beads of precum glistening under your one light. It sits there staring at you, waiting for stimulation. With a quick swipe of your tongue across your lips, you give Jake a brief look before licking a stripe up the shaft of his cock. As you eventually make your way to putting him into your mouth, a loud moan rips from his throat. With his dick in your mouth, a set of tears spring out of your eyes when you take him further. It’s warm and there’s nothing you can compare the feeling of having his heaviness in your mouth. It’s addicting. You swallow him whole, allowing him to feel your throat close around his length when you do.

You swirl your tongue around the top whenever you round off his dick, but it must not be enough. Jake grows desperate and brings his hands to your head to push you down. The sudden change in pace has you gagging around his length, the tip massaging the back of your throat in a way that only stimulates more tears to rim your eyes. You mumble with his cock in your mouth, you yourself unsure of what you’re trying to say. He shudders beneath you as your voice sends vibrations through his spine.

Jake eventually resorts to controlling your pace by jutting his hips into your face, holding you still by the firm grip he has on your hair. One hand is covering his mouth while the other holds you down on his cock to take as much of him as you can. “Fuck, take it. Take my cock just like that.” He chants, over and over again as your drool pools around the base of his cock.

You’ve stopped using your tongue by the time his thrusts get messier. By now, you’re just a hole for him to use and you’ve resorted to using bits of suction to give him pleasure. “Gonna cum in your mouth, fuck-” with one last groan, he stutters to a stop in your mouth. You feel the thickness of his cock twitch in your mouth as the first spurts of cum are released, coating your mouth until it’s all you can taste.

When he pulls his cock out, you move to present yourself to him, sticking your tongue out to show him the lackluster traces of cum that weren’t swallowed. He’s almost ashamed to admit how quickly he stiffens up again, seeing your red and tear-streaked face presenting to him your mouth full of cum.

He grabs you by the throat and slams you onto your back, tearing your bottoms and panties off in one go. He slides a finger between your folds and groans when your slick drips down his fingers. Jake doesn’t yet entertain the idea of plunging a finger in, satisfied with listening to your desperate whines while he plays around with your clit. “You like sucking me off so bad you got wet? You slutty pup.”

You should feel humiliated while you lay before Jake with your pussy on full display for him to ravage- but you don’t. You feel exhilarated, almost sharing the same high that Jake is on as he drinks you in. Shutting your eyes as if that will do anything to mitigate the said humiliation any other person would be feeling right now, you gasp when Jake shoves a finger in. You feel like there’s poison coursing through your body, toxic and drunk off of Jake’s fingers sliding into you. You whine beneath him, wiggling your hips to rub your clit against his palm.

“Look at yourself, you desperate fucking puppy.” He’s quick to shove a second finger in, growing impatient.Your breath catches in your throat and he looks up to see your head thrown back in pleasure. Jake lets out a dark chuckle as his fingers continue to reach places you’ve never managed to hit yourself, the tip of his digits grazing the spongy end of your cervix. You’re practically melting under him, letting your muscles sheath his fingers and coat them in your arousal. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your first high, your cunt squeezing around his digits tightly as a pleasurable warmth shoots through you.

He establishes a consistent pace to fuck his fingers into you while your body shakes from the aftershock of your first orgasm. “Keep taking it, you’re doing so well for me.” He moans greedily while his fingers kiss your cervix. Your vision blows white as he continues to shove his fingers into your gaping hole, scissoring them to stretch you out even further.

“Jake-” you pant, desperate for more. “Your cock…I- I need it.”

Jake all but moans as he withdraws his cum soaked fingers back, hurriedly shoving you up your bed so he can straddle you between your legs. “Gonna fuck your little hole now,” he growls, tearing your legs apart and sliding his cock up and down your entrance. With a heavy grip clutching around the base of his cock, he slaps his member against your folds and smirks when he hears the wet slap reverberate back at him. Without giving you a warning, he pushes in and leaves you to take him all in one go. “Just a hole for my cock, huh?”

You anxiously tap your fingers along his hip, the only way for you to get his attention because your breath is caught in your throat. “-too much!” you cry out, biting your lip until the tangy flavor of iron coats your tongue.

He ignores you and starts to piston his hips into yours. “You look so fucking good letting me ruin you,” he chokes, bruising your hips as he holds onto you for support. “Bet Heeseung couldn’t fuck you this good.” His balls slap against your cunt with every thrust, the extra stimulation bringing you brief bouts of pleasure. “Bet his dick couldn’t split you open like mine does.”

A sound scarily close to a sob tumbles from your lips and Jake pauses for a brief second to check on you. “What, too much?” You can’t tell by the way his dick is shoved into your cunt if he’s asking out of concern or to taunt you, but the laugh that falls from his lips after gives you your answer. You resort to focus solely on the way Jake slides in and out of you with ease, the slam of his hips working at such a strength that leaves you short of breath. “Keep your eyes open, Y/n.” he commands, moving his hands from your hips to behind your knees as he raises them in the air. With the new grip, he manages to push into you at a deeper angle, hammering into your g-spot with every other thrust now.

“J-Jake!” You cry out, squeezing around him as that all familiar high begins to grow once more. “It’s too much, I- I think I’m g-gonna cum!”

“Then cum, puppy.” As if you were waiting for his words of approval, you let yourself go and feel the force of your arousal send you into a wave of spasms. A white ring forms around the girth of Jake’s dick as he continues to drill himself into your pussy, plunging in and out of you with a relentless pace that leaves you breathless. “Gonna fill you up with so much cum, breed you full of my puppies.”

He continues to rut against you as your orgasm runs its course, leaving you overstimulated and hot. Every touch down there lights your nerves on fire, but you want more. “Yes- yes! Give it to me!” You beg, clawing at Jake’s back.

He tucks his bottom lip into his teeth, “Pump you full of my cum, yeah?” His hands come down to wrap around your neck, using you as leverage to hold him up. “My own personal cumslut? You want my fucking pups so bad, huh?” His hips stutter in pace as he gets closer to the edge. He's reached a loss of words as his sole focus goes into chasing his own high, mindlessly squeezing the sides of your neck.

Your body moves violently against the bed with every thrust, an animalistic pace blinding Jake. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” He pants into your ear and drapes his sweat body over yours as his thrusts slow down. You feel the size of him twitch rapidly inside of you as jets of cum spurt out and coat your velvet walls. He breathes hard into your ear, shell shocked by the amount of cum squirting out of his slit. You turn your head to see Jake work himself through his orgasm, lips parted as he lets out a string of groans.

As he slows to a stop, you let your body fall limp as your womb swells with his arousal Jake. He stays like that for a minute and breathes out a few pants before slipping out of you. Fatigue washes over you and you pass out before you catch the look on his face.

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Jake saunters into the gym, a dark gloom clinging to him like a shadow, but he perks up when his eyes land on your talkative figure sitting between Sunghoon and Heeseung. His strides become longer and more energetic as he makes his way over to you, sliding onto the bench before you with an annoying ease. When he sits down, he makes sure to bump into you, taking that chance to wrap his arms around you, ignoring the looks of pure judgement from his friends when he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent like a man starved.

“Jeez, why don’t you piss on her while you’re at it.” Sunghoon says, rolling his eyes as he watches Jake practically salivate at the mere scent of you.

“I might just do that.” Jake growls, snapping at Sunghoon.

You shove the werewolf with a sigh, exasperation evident in your posture. “How about we begin with sparring today. Jake, go find the rest of the boys.” You look towards Jake with an expectant stare, but all you get in return is his big sad eyes staring back at you.

“Why does everyone always ask me to find everyone for training?” He complains, reluctantly standing up from his spot on the bench.

“Because we need to make use of your puppy powers somehow,” Niki coos, pressing a finger on Jake’s nose with an over exaggerated ‘boop.’ Jake grunts, swiftly moving to turn Niki around, locking his arms behind him. Niki lets out a strangled groan and begs for remorse as he wiggles out of his group. “Say that shit again.”

“Ok, idiots,” you cut in, walking away from them and towards the arena. “You guys have a match in less than two weeks, so let’s focus on sparring. I’ll meet with each of you individually throughout the day. Sunghoon, I’ll start with you first.”

In the corner of your eye, you see Jake slouch away to go find the missing members while Niki and Heeseung slip into the arena. Sunghoon silently follows you into the training room.

“Ok,” you say as you step onto the mats. “I want to focus on your sparring techniques today, see if it needs any fine-tuning.”

Sunghoon wordlessly steps forward until he’s inches from invading your personal space. His dark eyes bore into yours with an intensity you can’t quite define. “I don’t need help.” He speaks with finality, but you deny him the pleasure of skipping out on sparring with you.

“Well that’s too bad.” You say, pulling a pair of boxing wrap from the shelf near you. Unfazed by his predatory gaze, you start to wrap your hands in the black fabric, the straps fitting snugly around your fingers. “Show me you don’t need help, and I’ll back off.”

You raise your hands up into a defensive stance, waiting for Sunghoon to match your posture but he doesn’t. Instead, he surges forward and kicks his leg at you, sweeping the feet out from under you. You land unceremoniously on your ass with an embarrassing ‘oof.’

“Do you need more proof?”

You roll your eyes and get back up to resume your stance, this time, your eyes glow orange. “Why don’t we do this properly, first. Or are you afraid of a fair fight?” Your taunting is enough to get Sunghoon moving, mirroring your stance with an annoyed grunt. “Great, now we can start.”

You begin to circle him, moving around him in a counterclockwise direction like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It’s Sunghoon that breaks the rhythm, lunging at you with a sharp jab that’s aimed at your face. You duck out of the way just in time and shoot back a swift body shot, hitting his left side with more strength than necessary. He stumbles back with a soft grunt, briefly clutching his side before recovering and swinging his leg up at your head.

His movements knock you off kilter, the stone wall of his calf ricocheting off your skull. You land back onto the mat again, this time clutching at your head. On the floor, you clutch your head and a feedback of warmth spreads through your skull quickly, flooding you with relief before the oncoming ache envelops you. “That’s illegal!” you spit, getting back up.

“Nothing in fight club is illegal until you yell stop, go limp, or tap out!” he counters your words with venom dripping from his words while he stares at you like he’s trying to tear you apart from the inside.

“Fine,” you say between gritted teeth. Regaining your composure rather quickly, you surge toward him and unleash a flurry of punches that are too fast for him to keep up with. His eyes dart back and forth between your moving limbs, dodging whatever it is that he can but he tires out quickly. Sunghoon becomes disoriented and fails to dodge your kick to his stomach, sending him flying across the room and into the wall, knocking the air out of him.

He slumps to the ground with a sickening thud and you smirk, reveling in your small victory. When he looks back up at you, you realize your sense of pride is shortcoming. He sticks out his hand and suddenly the ground beneath you turns into ice, causing you to slip and fall. Now both of you were on the ground. “Very fucking funny,”

The next hour is pure chaos as the two of you use your powers to bully one another. Your flames burn him like an ashtray when he gets too close, and he retaliates by making you slip on his patches of ice whenever he can. At some point, an unspoken agreement to end the spar is called and you both lean your hands on your knees, chests heaving up and down as you catch your breath.

“I misunderstood you.” Sunghoon says between breaths.

There’s not enough oxygen going to your head for you to understand his words, so you shoot him an exasperated but questioning look.

“I drove away our last trainer, made him quit after I froze his arm to the wall.” He starts, straightening up. “He hated me, but I hated him too. I’d push him around till he was bruised and battered and eventually he gave up on me and stopped training me.”

‘Doesn’t seem like a very good trainer.”

Sunghoon laughs at that, nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah, none of us really liked him, but he’s old news now. But I figured you’d be the same.” He drops his head as if embarrassed to look at you as if weighed down by his regret. “But you’re different. It’s nice to see someone actually try and work with us and not for the paycheck.”

You drop your focus down to the ground and remain silent, processing his words with such concentration you’d think he was implying something shady; but Sunghoon didn’t seem like the type to beat around the bush, though. When you finally look back up at him, you can see he’s brought his gaze back to yours and the haze in his eyes has started disappearing. “Why do you do that?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. “-push people?” You clarify.

“It’s just safer that way.” He says with a dismissive tone.

Safer. It echoes in your mind like a bouncy ball, each bounce plaguing you with another thought. There was nothing safe about being supernatural. But you realize that Sunghoon wasn’t speaking to you in metaphors. For Sunghoon, safety meant isolating himself from everyone around him like ice that refuses to thaw. His method of keeping himself safe doesn’t surprise you, it’s hard not to feel so corrupted in a world where being special meant you were illegal. You can’t seem to shake the thought that maybe, you were chipping away at his frost.

Before you can decrypt Sunghoon’s remarks anymore, the door swings open and a confident looking Heeseung strides in. His presence demands your gaze and Sunghoon looks the boy up and down like he interrupted something, a silent reprimand flickering in his eyes. Heeseung flicks his hand in the air and Sunghoon leaves, briefly acknowledging the older before exiting the room. When he’s gone, Heeseung stalks into your space and picks apart your composure with his proximity. “Finally alone again.” he murmurs into your ear, voice dripping with contentment. With his face just inches from yours, vivid images of your steamy encounter with him flash across your mind and you push him away before his stare can undo you completely.

“Just get in position,” you say, pointing to a spot just a few feet away from you. Heeseung lets out a low chuckle but obliges anyway, slowly moving to where you pointed to. He unnecessarily adjusts the wraps on his hand, spending an annoying amount of time readjusting them before throwing his arms up into a dramatic stretch. “Let’s go, princess. I don’t have all day.”

“Patience,” he retorts, finally bringing his hands into a ready position and planting his feet firmly into the mat. He locks his eyes on you and you feel the adrenaline and amusement running through his irises on you.

Upon uttering the word, “go”, you launch yourself at him. You tangle your body in his while cracking a flurry of punches at him at a supernatural speed. It’s a blur of movements that would have any onlooker getting dizzy from watching. Despite the mirage of fists you deliver to Heeseung, he manages to dodge each one. He moves around each punch with impeccable footwork, your enhanced speed just being short of matching his vampiric speed. “Come on, I thought you were better than this.” he says with a smirk.

His fist suddenly connects with the side of your jaw and a ringing pain explodes through your head. Blood fills your mouth and you taste the metallic liquid on your tongue, but you ignore it, channeling the pain into driving a kick into his stomach. He doubles over in pain, letting out a hiss through his gritted fangs. “It’s not my fault you move at the speed of light,” you say, catching your breath.

After a brief second is spent reeling from the pain of your kick, he recovers, though he walks with a limp in his gait. Too busy looking at his posture, Heeseung lunges at you with an uppercut to your face, but it doesn’t land. You vanish from his sight in a burst of flames and reappear behind him. Your foot slams into the back of his thigh and he stumbles forward. He retaliates by painting your vision red, blurring your sight. “Really? You’re going to blind me?”

“It’s only fair,” he snickers, letting his hands dance in the air so the red tendrils wrap around your face more.

Frustrated, you unleash a ring of fire around you which forces him out of your space with a startled yelp. The sparring lasts only a few minutes longer, ending when Heeseung taps out after your flames graze the top of his head.

“Sunghoon’s right,” he says, catching a breather in the corner of the room. “You’re different. You’re not afraid.”

“Why would I be afraid?” You study his face from across the room, noting his usual confidence being replaced with something solemn.

“Did you know I killed my parents?”

His admission steals the next breath out of you. A gasp spills from your lips and you’re not sure if Heeseung hears it- though the subtle tensing of his shoulders tells you he expected nothing less. “I wasn’t abandoned, I killed them.”

Heeseung only looks down as he continues, voice dripping with guilt. “They were business owners, successful ones at that. They used me like a machine, sending me out to kill those that got in their way. I thought, what could they possibly need a vampire for, when I was adopted. But it turns out their blood is colder than mine.”

He turns to you then, searching your eyes for something you don’t understand- forgiveness, sympathy, you’re not sure.

The uncertainty in his eyes makes your chest swell with pain and you wrack your brain for a way to respond, but his words only echo your own painful past. You offer him a grim smile, a double-edged sword wielded before you. “That’s a cruel way to use someone,” you say as memories of your past flood back to you. “No one deserves to be used like that- or used at all.”

Heeseung’s eyes flicker with the smallest amount of light and it makes you feel like you said the right thing. “Does being a murderer make you see me differently?”

“No, Heeseung. The world we live in is cruel, and you did what you had to do to survive. Your past was clearly dictated by your parents and it will never define you. I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

He scoffs, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You don’t know me, then.” He says, dropping his gaze to the ground again.

His words dampen your optimism, but you tell yourself that you aren’t here to remind him of his past, but to help him work through it. Your past, which had once been full of people that used you for their own gain, makes your expression tense.. You want to be the person you needed all those years, and Heeseung is just going to have to accept that.“I don’t,” you say, “But I want to.”

Heeseung chews on the inside of his cheek as he registers your words. The tension in his shoulders and the repeated clenching of his jaws make you think you stepped too far, unlocked a part of his life he wasn’t granting you access to. When he looks up, you see his tear-streaked eyes and a smile forming on his lips and that’s all you need to know.

You think back to the other night, when he had taken you so roughly and then left you there to clean up the mess. That wasn’t Heeseung. Not the one you’re looking at now. “Heeseung,” you say as you approach him, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek. “What happened that day? Why’d you leave?”

“Rage. That wasn’t me you saw that night, I was high off of my match with K and the rage blinded my judgement. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that.”

“I understand,” you say quietly, “but it did hurt, being used like that only to be left alone right after.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t myself when that happened.” When your eyes meet his, you see a translucent shine glossing over his eyes. “I never thought I’d be feeling like this, let alone so soon, but I like you, Y/n. You caught my attention on the first day and have kept it ever since. I feel like I could trust you with anything.”

Your heart swells with an unfamiliar warmth and you feel your eyes begin to mist over. His confession renders you speechless, so you offer him a sympathetic smile instead. Your expression only invites him to step into your space and he leans down to smell your neck. “You were with Jake, weren’t you?”

“I-it wasn’t like that. I don’t think Jake even knew what-”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind sharing.”

Your cheeks burn and you stumble backwards, but he catches you and wraps an arm around your waist. With his arm wrapped around you and breath fanning your cheek, you look everywhere but him. “Tell me, did he fuck you good?”

You clench your thighs together, attempting to quell the heat building between them and swallowing in a moan. Arousal and desire coil in the pit of your stomach and you find yourself intoxicated by his presence. His eyes are locked on yours like they were that night, but it’s different. You don’t feel that same invisible tether that pulled you into his embrace and forced you to submit to him, but the lust and craving for him is all the same. His lips curve into a knowing smile, like he’s just won a game you didn’t realize you were playing. “Are you getting wet from thinking about his cock? I bet you could take us both so well.”

Images of Jake leaning over you and filling you with his essence cross your vision and for a second it’s all you can see. His every feature, every beauty mark, etches itself into your memories like an intrusion. Heeseung’s taunts are a catalyst to the wet feeling in your panties and you squirm.

“Heeseung-”

The doors to the training room burst open and Jake walks in. When his eyes land on the way Heeseung’s arm is wrapped around you, his gaze turns dark and he rushes to your side to pull him away. “Who said you could fucking touch her?” he growls, pulling you behind him.

“Don’t you smell it?”

“Smell what-” He points his eyes at you and then lowers his gaze down to your legs which are pressed against each other like there’s no tomorrow. “Fuck, you’re dripping, Y/n.”

“Sharing is caring, Jake. You can’t have her all.”

Despite the wet patch growing in the seat of your panties, you push Jake out of the way and clear your throat. It takes every thread of yours to ignore the pulses of your cunt and to get them back on track. “I’m still here, by the way.” You say, rolling your eyes when Heeseung laughs. “It’s time for you to leave, I need to spar with Jake now.”

Heeseung takes his leave, but before he exits, he turns back with a parting message. “It’s only a matter of time before the others claim her too.”

When the door shuts, Jake pulls you into him and you feel the growing hardness of his dick against your body. You let out an accidental whine into his chest and he chuckles lowly, pressing a hand to the back of your head to keep you tucked in his embrace. “Fuck, what’re you gonna do when Jay and Sunghoon get a hold of you, hm, pretty girl?”

He nips at the shell of your ear before separating from you.

Sparring with Jake follows a similar pace as the others- calculated movements and swift jabs. There isn’t much dialogue exchanged between you as you trade punches at one another, but it’s fine because you’re too focused on suppressing the blossoming heat coiling in your stomach. You’re grateful for the silence. But frankly, you’re so caught up in digging your arousal's grave that you don’t have time to react to his foot pressing against your temples, pushing you against the mat. Before you know it, you’re tapping the mat furiously as the pressure on your head increases.

When Jay strides into the room to replace Jake, you’re barely functional enough to put up much of a fight. His flames burn you far too often and the scales of his skin seem to mock your every effort to break his defenses down. Between an echo of insults that seem a bit too personal and a bunch of roundhouse kicks, you let him take the win easily after just a few minutes of fighting, already feeling the purple bloom across your body.

Before you know it, you’re on your way home again, slowly recognizing the walk back more and more.

Strangely, the weight on your shoulders is lighter. With the admission of Sunghoon indirectly telling you he accepts you and Heeseung revealing his past to you, you feel a sense of pride swell in your chest. And that encounter with Jake, although odd and confusing, left you with a rather large smile on your face. Maybe Jay still held his doubts against you, taking jabs at your ego whenever he could, but it was better than ignoring you. You were finally gaining their trust, and it felt good.

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The overhead lights hanging above the Enha Arena are dimmed enough so that only the spotlight shines down on Heeseung and EJ, two vampires circling one another in the center. This is your first official match you get to see, and you and Heeseung had been working closely to prepare for it. Tonight, it’s Sunghoon and Heeseung that are participating while the rest of the matches involve gym members you don’t train with.

You stand off to the side in one of the corners with the rest of the boys while EJ’s team occupies the other corner. K is the only one not standing amongst your group, lost somewhere in the sea of bleachers and talking to a few men in the crowd. In front of the ring where there are no bleachers, a table is set to seat Yuqi and two other gym trainers you hadn’t had the chance to meet while a microphone sits at the center of the table, waiting to announce the winners of this match. At this point of the match, you’ve tuned out the ruckus of cheers erupting from the crowded bleachers and look on, focusing on Heeseung.

The spotlight reflects the sheen of sweat beading on Heeseung’s forehead, casting a dramatic shadow behind him. His concentration pierces into EJ’s gaze and the boys catch their breath in this brief period of remission. Their auras match one anothers, a red glow wrapping around their bodies which only adds to the tension in the air.

You have little knowledge regarding EJ’s techniques and powers. Though he’s a vampire, like Heeseung, the latter had mentioned to you that each vampire has a unique ability. While Heeseung can manipulate shadows, you remain clueless as to what EJ’s is.

EJ is the first to break the period of rest, barrelling his entire body in Heeseung. It’s sudden and catches Heeseung off guard, sending the both of them tumbling down to the mat. EJ quickly moves to straddle the back of Heeseung’s body and wraps his arm around his neck. Spit leaves Heeseung’s mouth as his airway gets cut off, but he compensates. A stretch of red escapes Heeseung’s body and coils around EJ, ripping him off of Heeseung and he catches his breath.

When Heeseung gets back to his feet, he stumbles about for long enough that EJ is able to punch him square in the face.

“What the hell was that?” you exclaim, blindly clutching onto Sunghoon’s forearm.

Sunghoon layers a hand over yours, “EJ is pooling Heeseung’s blood down to his feet. It’s making him dizzy.”

“They can do that?”

“No, just EJ. If Heeseung wasn’t a vampire, the effects would last a lot longer and be a lot stronger since vampires don’t have much blood.”

Your heart clenches as you continue to watch Heeseung tightly shut his eyes before opening them, seemingly gaining his balance back after EJ’s fist strikes his face. They resume and Heeseung charges at the boy with lightning speed. The two boys engage in a messy fist fight, a number of punches being thrown before each other so fast you can hardly keep up. Combos of all punches are thrown at the other but equally dodged in the same fashion. They’re moving too fast for you to see who’s really winning, but when they step away from each other to catch their breath, you can easily tell they’re both equally battered.

Heeseung’s face is dripping with blood, cuts gracing his face while his eyebrow is split open, and his nose is visibly broken. EJ is no better, his eyes swollen shut as they swell with blood and his body is covered in an abundance of bruises.

You feel Jay move against you and he raises his arms, shouting at Heeseung, “Finish him!”

Heeseung channels Jay’s words into his next punch, red tendrils coiling around his arm as he lands a powerful left jab on the side of EJ’s head. The shadows wrap around EJ’s face and torment him in a suffocating vortex before moving down to his neck. With EJ captivated by the shadows of Heeseung’s aura, he doesn’t hesitate to launch another set of blows to his body until EJ collapses to the ground, his face flush with the bloody mat. Heeseung gives him one last kick to the ribs for good measure and EJ reaches a hand out to weakly tap against the mat. The match is over.

Yuqi stands up and grabs the microphone, proudly announcing Heeseung as the winner. As the crowd erupts into a chaos of cheers, you slip into the ring and grab Heeseung to take him into his corner. You cradle his face, flinching when his blood leaks onto your hand. He looks up at you with a lopsided smile, “Did you see that, baby?” He takes you by the hand and plants a messy kiss on your lips, leaving you gaping like a fish when he parts.

You shake your head and laugh to yourself, “I did, Hee. You did so well.”

Minnie tosses you a rag and you use it to dab at his cuts. When the rag becomes too bloody to make a difference, you set it down and run your finger down his nose. A rush of embers leave your hand and settle into the cartilage of his nose, restoring it back to its original shape. His eyes are locked on you as he watches you with awe, “Go get some rest,” you say, patting his back.

Before leaving, he gives you a chaste kiss on the cheek then disappears. Minnie gives you a teasing smile and raises her eyebrows, “Shut up,” you say before she can say anything.

Sunghoon eventually slides into the ring as Minnie moves to clean the mats, arms working hard at drying the pools of red decorating the arena. “Will I get a kiss too if I win?” he asks with a smirk, his eyes teasing as you glance away.

You ignore his blatant flirting and place a hand on his shoulder. Squeezing, you push him into the center of the ring, “Stay focused, Sunghoon.” The woman standing across from him is named Shuhua, dressed in armor that looks far too form-fitting to be of any use. It’s design appears to be more ornamental than protective- but what did you know? You've never met a valkyrie before.

“This is gonna be more of a sword fight than a boxing match,” Jake says into your ear when you slide out of the ring.

“What do you mean?”

“Valkyries are like mythical warriors. I read online that they’re bred to sword fight where they’re from.”

The match begins before you have time to process Jake’s informative words, your focus locking onto Shuhua as they start moving. She moves with fleeting ease and you can see now that her armor, adorned in fancy embellishments, no longer appears as a burden. It’s no longer impractical, but rather an extension of her exuding elegance and predatory gaze. With every shift in her posture, confidence dances around her.

Sunghoon stands before her, completely unfazed to her lioness gaze. He’s cautious, aware of the limitations her armor keeps him at and calculates his first move. The crowd has become background to you now, quiet like it’s holding its breath as the silence stretches between the two.

Suddenly, Shuhua’s hand moves in the air and a steel sword materializes in her hand, adorned with white and blue gems that glisten under the spotlight. In one graceful motion, she lunges at Sunghoon and swings the sword through the air and at Sunghoon.

He responds to her movement immediately, summoning an ice shield that quickly intercepts the force of her sword. The impact has his shield shattering in an instant and Sunghoon quickly wields his own ice blade to match her approach. He twirls the blade in his hands with practiced precision and advances.

The chilling blade cuts through the air as he swings it at Shuhua, but she’s faster, jumping away from the weapon. Before Sunghoon can strike again, Shuhua sends a swift kick to his back which has Sunghoon stumbling forward. It’s a move not meant to hurt him but to strike him off balance.

With his free hand, Sunghoon curls his hand into a fist and freezes Shuhua’s sword. He throws his hand in the air and the sword in question shatters into glittering shards, rendering it unusable. A low hiss escapes from Shuhua’s lips, her annoyance evident in the way her gaze darkens. With one quick motion, a dagger appears in her hand, though it’s significantly smaller than the sword she once held.

Without blinking, she throws it with deadly accuracy at Sunghoon, but he’s quick to bend backwards in a graceful arc. He narrowly evades the bulk of the blade, the tip skinning his nose and eyebrow which leaves a trail of blood in its wake. The dagger flies back to Shuhua’s open hand like a boomerang and she flips it in the air to change her grip.

Shuhua has no time to throw her dagger again as Sunghoon is already making his next move, his blade wielded in the air as he prepares to strike. With concerning ease, he sheaths the blade into her side, one of the few areas that aren’t protected by her armor. A sharp gasp leaves Shuhua and she looks down to see red stain her uniform. Clutching the sword as though it’s the last thing keeping her tethered, she falls to her knees and then onto her back, chest heaving for air.

Though you can’t see when it happens, the unnatural stiffening of her body and the frost clinging to her armor is enough for you to understand that Sunghoon has dropped her core temperature dangerously low. It’s not meant to give him the upperhand, moreso to assert dominance over Shuhua’s once cocky gaze. “Giving up?” he sneers, standing over her with his blade still lodged deep into her side.

Shuhua lets out an affirmative grunt, a mixture of pain and resignation. The match is over.

Sunghoon pulls the blade out and you wince as the sickening sound of his sword slides out of her side. Blood gushes out of her wound but it quickly stops when Sunghoon freezes over the gaping hole with his hand. “Get that stitched, I can only do so much.” He says, holding a hand out for her to grab.

Though her pride is shaken and her wound has rendered her nearly immobile, she takes Sunghoon’s hand. When she’s back on her feet, you realize then that the crowd has reached an intolerable volume of cheering. Their cheers bounce off the walls of the gym and ring in your head, a feral energy that doesn’t seem to care for the fact that they nearly watched someone bleed out before their eyes. You look over to where K stands on the bleachers, flanked by two men who you assume to be his friends. What doesn’t concern you isn’t the fact that K isn’t standing by his team- you could care less where he is. What concerns you is the sickening fascination on his friends’ faces, like this was just some passing entertainment to make the day go by. The rest of the crowd has similar expressions, though they seem to be more intrigued by the next round of fighters that are sliding into the ring.

“It’s not personal,” Jay’s voice detaches you from your thoughts and you turn around. “All matches are like this. Nobody cares about the people, they’re here for the blood shed.”

“I just don’t get it- what is so fascinating about watching people beat each other up?”

“I don’t think it’s fascination that the crowd feeds on, it’s more of an outlet for them. I’d say just enjoy the rest of the matches, Y/n.”

“Shit,” It’s Niki, suddenly appearing by your side with Jake standing behind him. “I had $500 riding on Shuhua winning.” He turns to hand over a wad of cash to Jake, a grim expression gracing his features.

As per Jay’s request, you watch the rest of the matches, though you can’t seem to match the enthusiastic energy that the crowd just feet away from you harbors.

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It’s been three months since you first stepped into Dusk and Dawn, but it feels like it’s been years. In that short amount of time, you’ve revealed shocking stories about the four boys you train- secrets they’ve buried far beneath the surface. There’s been a dramatic shift in the way the boys present themselves to you, their once guarded exterior now being replaced with a vulnerable act of affection. You’re their confidante, their friend- and possibly even more for some.

Even K, who had rubbed you the wrong way that one night, has become a constant presence in the gym. What was once the original 7 boys has become a group of 8. Though, K has taken a particular liking towards you for some reason. He’s been spending a lot of time with you, particularly bonding over the shared understanding that there weren't many like you; not many phoenixes and necromancers crawling the streets. The two of you confided in one another about being unique, a struggle that you didn’t think the others would understand as well as K did.

Jungwon, however, has pulled away. It was noticeable enough for Minnie to express her worries with you and Yuqi, concerned about his fiery energy having been extinguished after that night of the government inspection. Ever since that day, Jungwon has acted strangely. He’s grown distrusting of those around him, but you can’t really blame him. Growing up in a world without the safety of those bound by blood to look out for you, it’s hard to imagine living without any trust issues.

Still, these three months have introduced you to a pleasure you never thought you’d be privy enough to enjoy- a family. Not the kind bound by blood, but one forged on a mountain of shared intimacies and unspoken trust. Never once did you expect to exchange hours of banter with Jay, or to sit with Jake and listen to him unravel the history of his lineage. You didn’t think you would ever learn about Heeseung’s past and the true reason behind his vampiric rage. Even Sunghoon- his once frosted over eyes had begun to thaw, melting day by day.

Heeseung opened up to you about the monsters he faces in his dreams, the guilt he carries from all the lives he took in exchange for his family’s love- it was a stepping stone into his life and you vowed to carry his monsters to your grave. With his candid reveal, you curated a bond that you believed to be unbreakable. Since then, he’s often looked at you with a soft gaze that left you feeling weightless.

And Jay remains as competitive as ever, but his intentions are no longer fueled by malice and a need to prove you wrong. There’s no longer venom laced in his comments when he speaks to you, instead it was encouragement. It felt unnatural at first, like you were speaking to a man with a practiced script, but over time you grew to get used to it. His challenges became something for you to look forward to, a reason to improve.

Even Jake seemed to have turned a new leaf. The werewolf who was once guarded was now showing you a side that you could no longer classify as foreign or rare. He confided in you about his past after a particularly tough match, explaining to you how his family’s passing had affected him. You grew to understand why he was so guarded, so anxious about showing his true emotions. His outbursts were a way of protecting himself from feeling vulnerable again. Since that night, he and Heeseung began to tag team you. Jake made it a habit to inhale your scent whenever he could, his werewolf like instincts controlling him. And on more than one occasion, the intimate moments Jake pushed upon you were often interrupted and joined by Heeseung.

Sunghoon had also begun to thaw, less frequently trying to ward you off with his ice and instead inviting your warmth as if it’d speed up the thawing of his heart. The storm in his eyes were clearing, and for the first time since you had met him, you were starting to see the irises of his eyes without the haze of grief that seemed to hover in front of them indefinitely. He still hadn’t opened up to you about why that was, and you weren’t sure he ever would, but that's ok. It was enough for you that he was beginning to encourage your presence rather than push you away.

Finally, your life was looking up. You were building what Yuqi called a family- not one that was defined by blood, but one that was fostered upon by shared memories and heartfelt actions. For once, you feel fulfilled. There were people in your life now that relied on you, and people in your life that you relied on. Those late-night conversations you had with the walls of your empty apartment were now a distant memory, replaced by a real camaraderie and a feeling of belonging.

Smiles became your usual expression whenever you were in the gym. The boys were no longer testing your authority and engaged in less fights with each other. For the first time, you were looking forward to your shifts.

Even your living situation has improved. You were no longer carrying around the burdening weight of finding a new place now. Jay had taken it upon himself to help you look at apartments, often joining you in your self-guided tours to help point out the pros and cons of each place. Though your apartment wasn’t what you would call a dream come true, it was a massive step up from the one The Veil had funded for you. Instead of shorting fuses and waiting for the sun to light up your home, you finally had working outlets and bulbs that were strong enough to be sufficient at night.

So when you finally decided on that apartment, the boys, as well as the maknaes and K, had invited themselves over to help you move your boxes- though there weren’t many to begin with. The collection of their supernatural abilities made for a quick 2-hour affair of moving things, one that would’ve taken at least a day by yourself.

In the end, you encouraged them to stay for a bit and open some wine. For once they weren’t dressed up in gym apparel or running off the high of punching things- they were relaxed. And since then, it has become a tradition to come together on the weekend to share drinks and stories, further strengthening your bond with them.

Right now, you’re finishing up yet another shift. It’s like any other night at the gym, except this time you stay for a little longer to help Yuqi set up for tomorrow’s matches while the rest of the boys have packed up and left. It’s not a very long or laborious task, just a few tables needing to be moved and some electricals that need to be set up.

When you finish, Yuqi is quick to run off, stating she’s got some work to finish at home. In her absence, you pack up your belongings and walk to the locker room for a quick shower, craving the feeling of a warm, hot shower.

As you pass by the men’s locker room, a voice catches your attention and you find your steps slowing down. You weren’t aware anyone else was still here, though it was a 24-hour gym, so maybe you just weren’t used to others being here after your shift.

“-you want her blood now?” Your steps falter completely. Was that K? Curiosity piques your senses and before you can think about the consequences of eavesdropping, you slip against the tiled wall that wraps around the entrance to the men’s locker room.

“No, I haven’t even gotten any money yet!” The voice is low and clipped, but it’s loud enough for you to hear in the silence of the gym. “Haven’t you guys collected enough info? You’ve been to their matches.”

Confusion knicks you heart and you hold your breath. “How the hell am I supposed to collect her blood? That’s the enforcement division's job, I don’t need them suspecting me any more than they already do. That Jungwon kid gives me a dirty look every chance he gets. I thought getting rid of you guys at that inspection was enough, but I think he just became more wary.”

A cold dread spreads through your body as you begin to connect the dots. The venom in his words rubs against you the wrong way, lingering like a thick fog in your mind. Was he working with the government? It doesn’t make sense though, how would he have gotten in contact with them? Was Jungwon suspecting K of undermining the team? Your thoughts are spiraling now, each question only leading to another.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the way his voice dissipates and steps begin to echo down the hall. When a pair of white sneakers appear in your vision, you look up. “Oh, Y/n!” K says, leaning down to catch your gaze.

His sudden appearance quickens your pulse and you realize the weight of your situation, how you look in front of him. “K, I didn’t know you were still here!” You say with a lighthearted turn, hoping that was believable enough.

K steps closer to you until you can feel his breath fanning against your cheek. “Cut the shit.”

He’s got you pressed up against the wall, panic rising in your throat. “W-what?” you stutter, turning your gaze away from his predatory stare. “I was just heading to the women’s locker room to change!”

He narrows his eyes at you, the intensity of his stare making your skin crawl. You so desperately want to just run away, forget you even heard anything, but K is relentless. “Right,” his voice drops down to a murmur, “Well, don’t be running your mouth or anything. I’d hate to see what happens.”

With a purposeful nudge to your shoulder, he brushes past your frozen figure and disappears. You’re left standing there with a tight chest, struggling to catch a breath. K’s words were like a threat wrapped up in the safety of a promise, a guarantee that shit would go down if you were to talk about what just transpired. It leaves you mind in a tangled mess of thoughts, confusion and fear acting as a catalyst to your rapidly beating heart.

You force yourself to think back to when K had first joined. A shiver runs through you as you recall the way his walk radiated with confidence, how his footsteps seemed to echo with regard to the high esteem he holds himself at. He had walked in as though he owned the place, immediately demanding for a spar as if to prove a point.

It unnerves you how easily he had integrated himself into the team, how he just happened to be exactly what everyone needed- a friend. Now, in hindsight, you realize that it was all a lie. Everything you had ever grown to realize about K now felt like it was tainted with poison. Every one of his actions dripped with an ulterior motive that you mistook for friendliness.

You think about the government inspection, how easily he carried himself when he spoke to that official, as though he wasn’t scared of him. He was too smooth, too comfortable. And what had he shown him?

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The next few days seem to blur together, a dizzying haze of your own internal storm of thoughts. You make an effort to avoid K, way too aware of his domineering presence in the gym, around your friends. His casualness around the others feels so fake now, had you missed it?

His threat hangs in the back of your head and you try to throw yourself into your work, making workout plans and writing in the journal Yuqi had given you- but it’s pointless. Your stomach stirs with unease and you can’t find it within you to focus on anything other than K’s likely betrayal.

Before you know it, you’ve practically lost your appetite. The mere thought of putting something in your body makes you nauseous, as though you're already full from keeping K’s secrets.

You watch Yuqi from across the gym talk to the maknaes, helping Minnie out in a small discussion they seem to be having. On the other side, K is with your team, exchanging jokes with one another like any other day. Something bubbles in your gut, urging you to tell someone. You need to.

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you’re tapping on Yuqi’s shoulders. “Hey, can I talk to for a second?”

She turns to you with her lips pressed into a thin line, seeming to be on edge. “Sure, but make it quick.”

Her tone has you hesitating to talk to her, second-guessing whether you should really confide with her, The nauseating feeling burning in your stomach has you opening your mouth anyways.

“The other day, I overheard K on the phone. He mentioned something about the enforcement division and the need to collect someone’s blood.” The words come out of you like a question, like you’re unsure of what you heard, but you press on, insistent on getting everything out before you regret it. You look to Yuqi to see if she’s following along but she’s staring off at a wall or something, a stern expression etched into her face. “He mentioned how he felt worried about looking suspicious and said that the division should take care of it, not him. I have reason to believe that maybe we shouldn’t trust K…”

You search Yuqi’s face for anything, expecting her to share a similar concern as you but it’s unreadable. It isn’t until you clear your throat that Yuqi turns to look at you.

“K said you’d say that. But I didn’t think it was true.”

You blink, unsure if you heard her right. “I’m sorry?”

“I didn’t want to believe him, trust me. But you’ve come to me with an accusation that K is working for the government after he quite literally saved us. Now, I’m sure of who I believe now.”

Your chest tightens in regard to her words, and you silently curse K. “No, you’ve got it wrong. I-”

“I’m gonna have to let you go, Y/n. Effective immediately. There will be consequences if we see you at this gym again.”

You must not have noticed the way a crowd has formed behind Yuqi as she speaks to you, your eyes finally landing on the 8 boys and Minnie. Heeseung is the first one you make eye contact with but he’s quick to look away, Niki and Sunoo doing the same. It rips your heart in half seeing them turn a blind eye to your demise. You look at Sunghoon, but he only glares at you with a store cold enough to freeze the blood running through your veins. The other boys hold themselves in a similar regard, Jake’s fist clenched at his side and Jay’s jaw is so tense you’re scared it might break. Jungwon doesn’t even look at you, eyes seemingly glued to the floor.

Minnie stands off to the side and you look at her with hopeful eyes, maybe she’d believe you. You’re wrong. If it’s not for the way she stands with her arms across her chest, it’s definitely the scowl on her face and tears staining her cheeks that gives it away.

Niki steps forward, “You should leave.” His voice is hard and flat and it’s got your eyes misting with tears.

Your heart lurches and you feel physically ill at hearing Niki- your sweet, trouble making Niki speak to you like this.

Sunghoon doesn’t do much to help, only adding to injury, “I really thought you were different. Just get out of our faces, I don’t want to see you ever again.”

You feel physically rooted to the spot, as if a weight has tied you down. Yuqi takes the extra step to glare at you once more before turning around to leave, saving you from the embarrassment of tripping over your own words. Minnie and the boys follow after her, leaving you trapped in your own storm. When they’re gone, you feel something wet drip down your face.

You bring a hand up to your cheek and pull it away only to see the translucent shine of a tear on your finger. No. Phoenix’s don’t cry. They can’t.

But your chest burns with a pain you’ve never felt. A searing, torrential pain. Not even when your parents kicked you out.

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It’s on a rare occasion that you step outside of your apartment and even rarer for you to pull out an unlit joint. But you need it. You yearn for the toxic chemicals to drive away the pain you’ve surrounded yourself in. You need it to psyche you out more than the overthinking already has.

It’s only been a week since you were let go, but it feels like it’s been a lifetime. The world has kept turning and the days get shorter. You feel like everyone else has moved on with the world except you. The winter wind bites at your cheeks though you don’t feel a thing, you wish you did. You’ve become numb to the cold, and you wish that numbness translated over to pain as well.

You grab a joint out of your hoodie pocket, laughing in awareness of the thin fabric doing little to protect you from the cold. It doesn’t matter though, you don’t plan on staying out for long. Just a hoodie and some leggings should be enough to keep your body protected, just enough for you to take a few drags. You don’t plan on finishing the joint anyways.

Stepping out into the dark, you travel to the back alley of your new apartment complex, a place not frequented by other people. Your only source of light is the distant flickering of the street lamps on the main street that barely reach back here and the flame dancing at the tip of your finger. You bring your hand to the end of the joint and let out a breathy laugh when the ember catches on the stick.

On your first inhale, you cough more than you’d like to admit, but in your defense, it’s been years since you last smoked. Your body isn’t used to the tar dragging down your lungs, but you aren’t used to this version of yourself either.

Whether it’s the heat of the smoke burning your chest or the burdening memory of losing everything you once had, there’s a scorching tightness that won’t leave you no matter what you do. It makes it hard to breathe. You beat a fist to your chest like that’ll do anything. It doesn’t work. Obviously.

You take another drag and do your best not to cough out the smoke, letting it reach your lungs before exhaling slowly. You try your best to focus on the feeling of the chemicals swirling around your lungs, but it doesn’t work. Your mind is burning with memories of Yuqi’s cold stare, Sunghoon’s harsh words, and just the overall look of betrayal on the group. How could they have believed K over you, the man that nearly killed Heeseung on his first day?

Despite your attempts, your mind flurries into a snowball of questions: how long had Yuqi known, what exactly did K tell her, was it all fake? Your chest tightens even more at the mere thought that everything was a lie, even your friendship with the boys. How quick they were to throw everything away, the ache of it all spreads like a poison through your body.

You take another hit from your joint, then a few more. One last hit. Ok, just one more. You inhale. Ok, this one for sure is going to be the last one. At this point, you’ve become numb to the heat of the smoke curling through you and take one last drag, then you go back for another hit.

Before you know it, you’ve reached the end of the joint. Your vision blurs slightly and the things around you become glossy.

The smoke has your lungs feeling heavy and trapped, but your mind feels lighter now. Your thoughts feel distant now that you’ve buried them under a haze of cannabis. You let the pathetic stub of a joint fall to the ground and you step on it to extinguish its flames. The silence of the alley is both calming yet also suffocating. You miss the liveliness of the gym and the weights clanging every so often. Now, you can only focus on the burning paper of the joint.

The sound of steps has your body immediately tensing up despite the cannabis raging through you. You turn around, expecting to see a cat or something messing around in the alley, but instead you see the shadow of a figure. It’s blurry, enough for you to think it’s just a figment of your imagination thanks to the weed, but when the shadow speaks, you freeze.

“Smoking, now?” you recognize that voice.

“Should I be solving world peace instead?” You bite back the feeling of bile rising in your throat and focus in on the figure. You open your mouth to say more, but the appearance of two other shadows joining has you running empty of any thoughts.

The air suddenly feels ten times heavier as he continues to speak, “You’ve got some fucking nerve, you know.” The shadow in the middle steps forward and you can finally make out his face under the dim lighting from the street lamps. His figure seems to effortlessly glide towards you and you stare in awe as a halo of light wraps around his frame. “I thought getting rid of you would help me out, but you’ve ruined everything.”

“I- I didn’t do anything-” You start with a pathetic slur but K lunges forward and captures your neck in his large hand. He slams you into the brick wall of your building and you wince at the sound of your body connecting with the wall. The force of his impact steals what little air you have and you feel your chest constrict. The lack of air has you growing dizzy and you let your head lull to the side. “You’re pathetic.” he growls, driving his free hand into your stomach.

“K-” you gasp, clawing desperately at his grip on your neck. The weight of the moment has you barely holding on to what’s left of your sobriety as you kick underneath him.

“You’re nothing, just a pathetic little Phoenix all alone in the world.” He lets go of your neck suddenly and you stumble back onto your feet. Before you can manage to catch a breath, his heavy combat boots slam into your stomach. The brutal force sends you flying back against the wall and the sharp edge of the bricks cut into your back as you slide to the ground.

He grabs a firstful of your hair and yanks it back into the wall. You hear nothing after that except for the ringing in your ears. You thrash under his hold but it only makes him angrier, “Stop fighting!” he shouts, tightening the grip on your hair. “No one’s here to save you, so stop fucking moving.”

Driven by what feels like your last thread of reality, you bring a hand up to his and let a surge of flames out. The embers sear into K’s skin and he stumbles back from with a shout. “Fucking bitch!” he snarls, holding his burnt arm with his other hand.

He does some strange movement with his hands, you can’t really tell through the gloss in your eyes. From the shadows behind K, two figures step into the light. When your eyes land on them, you realize then that they’re not humans. Well, living at least. What a wonderful night.

They both sport the same grey looking skin, one that clings to their skeleton like wet paper. Their hair is matter and grey and their eyes are sunken into their skull, devoid of any life. When they get even closer to you, the stench of decay invades your nostrils and you nearly throw up.

K moves his hands once more and the figures spring into action, lunging at you. They stick their cold hands under your armpits and turn to hurl you across the alley. Pain explodes through your body once more as you hit the pavement, every fiber of your body screaming in agony.

K moves in on you while the two figures behind him follow in suit. Before you can rise, K drives a foot into your side and you lurch forward at the sound of your ribs cracking. The figures go to stand behind you and lift you up to your knees, trapping your arms behind you. A sob rips from your body as you process your helplessness, mourning your freedom. K uses your captivity as an opportunity to deliver a brutal attack to your body. He uses his fists to begin, the first punch landing on your cheek and immediately filling your mouth with blood. The next blood is straight to the center of your face and you quickly feel a gush of warm blood pour from your nose.

By now, you’re falling in and out of consciousness to his assault. K mutters something under his breath and you wake up to the feeling of your arm being twisted so far back you hear a snap. The pain is blinding and you scream out, your throat going raw from the exertion of your vocal cords.

After some time, the figures behind you finally let go of you. With the lack of support coming from their hold, you crumble to the ground. You can barely register the feeling of K’s boot slamming into your side, and then into the back of your head. “There’s just one last thing,” he pulls something out from his coat pocket and you barely catch the glint of a blade in the corner of your eye. He crouches down to your level and smiles. In one quick motion, he plunges the knife into your stomach and drags the blade downward while twisting it.

You can only manage a few garbled groans and whimpers, your vocal chords completely shot from your screams early. Feeling satisfied, K pulls the knife out and basks in the sight of blood pouring out of your wound. With another mutter beneath his breath, the two figures disappear into thin air and he walks away.

You feel nothing but raw, excruciating pain all over your body. You’re not sure if it’s tears or blood on your face, and you’re barely conscious enough to process the sound of footsteps approaching you again. Instinctively, you tense up your muscles with what little energy you have and close your eyes in fear.

“Y/n!” You know that voice. “Stay awake for me!”

read part 3

Taglist: @heesimp, @kyunlov, @quill-ink, @lunaritex, @jiryunn, @jakeswifez, @fancypeacepersona, @nshmrarki, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @wilonevys, @strxwbloody, @capri-cuntz, @riribelle, @machambrx, @vousty, @rebeccakan

Permanent taglist: @kittys00, @ikaw-at-ikaw, @17ericas, @tunafishyfishylike

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #heeseung #enhypen smut #sunghoon #jake #jay #jungwon #sim jake #sim jake x reader #sim jake smut #jake smut #enha #enha smut #blood on fire #sunoo #niki

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nerdy-novelist017 · 4 months ago

Note

Hii! I absolutely adore your benny and bunny series and I got this idea while reading one of your oneshots about them :))

Could you possibly write a oneshot about bunny sitting on bennys lap, and benny just tease bunny starts bouncing his thigh and making her squirm and such - maybe have it possibly lead to something a little more steamy? Also could it possibly be in a more public setting, like maybe at a bonfire with the club or at a meeting? I love you so much thank you for being such an amazing writer <33

Tease (Benny Cross x Shy!Reader)

Oh this??? Ummm I love it! Also, I definitely wrote thiis while I was ovulating so it's purely self-indulgent lol 😅 I'm a little nervous to post this so please tell me if you've enjoyed it! 🫶

Benny x Bunny Masterlist

Word Count- 3.6k+

This is pretty NSFW so please don't read if you are underage!

The bonfire crackled softly, orange flames dancing in the cold night air as the club members lounged around, drinks in hand, the atmosphere relaxed and full of quiet conversation. The delicious smell of burning wood and s'mores filled the evening air enveloped you as you sat on the edge of one of the large logs that circled the fire, the warmth of the flames chasing away the chill of the night. Benny sat beside you, a cigarette dangled from between his lips, his arm casually draped around your shoulder, his presence as solid and sure as always.

The firelight cast long shadows, flickering over the faces of the members gathered, but your attention wasn’t on the conversations or the fire. It was on Benny, and the way his thumb absentmindedly brushed against the bare skin of your shoulder, leaving little sparks of warmth in their wake. You felt hyper-aware of his every touch, every soft movement, and it made your breath catch in your throat every time.

It had been a quiet and uneventful night – at least for everyone else. But sitting next to Benny, feeling the heat of his body so close to yours, you couldn’t help but feel that familiar tension simmering just beneath the surface.

Then, as if sensing your thoughts, Benny leaned in closer, his voice low and rough against your ear. “C’mere, Bunny. Come sit with me.”

Before you could respond, he gently tugged you off the log and pulled you into his lap, his strong hands guiding you with ease. Your heart fluttered at the sudden closeness, your body instinctively settling against him, your back pressed against his chest. His warmth seeped into you, his hands resting on your hips, holding you just close enough to keep you still but teasingly loose, like he was testing how far he could take this.

“You good?” he murmured, his breath mixed with the smoke from his cigarette warm against your ear, his voice holding a hint of something that sent a jolt of warmth in your belly.

Trying to ignore the quickening beat of your heart, you nodded. “Y–yeah, fine.”

But you weren’t fine. Not really. Sitting on Benny’s lap, surrounded by the familiar faces, the firelight casting shadows across his features, you felt like your entire body was suddenly buzzing with awareness. His hands shifted slightly, resting more firmly on your hips, and the feeling of his palms against you was almost too much.

Benny, however, seemed completely unbothered – almost playful, in fact. He shifted the cigarette between his lips as he said, “You sure? You seem a little . . . tense.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling in your lap as you tried to focus on anything other than the warmth of Benny’s hands and the closeness of his body. Your voice wavered slightly as you repeated, “I’m fine.”

“Mh-hm,” he hummed, and without warning, his grip on your hips tightened, just enough to pull you down a little harder on his lap. His thigh shifted beneath you, and before you could stop yourself, you let out a soft gasp, your body reacting to the sudden movement.

Benny chuckled lowly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “That’s what I thought.”

Your face flushed with heat, but it wasn’t just from the fire. The way his thigh pressed just beneath you, the subtle movement, was enough to make you squirm and you bit your lip, trying to stay composed, especially with the others just sitting a few feet aware, completely unaware of what was happening.

Benny, of course, wasn’t done. He shifted his thigh again, just a little, just enough to make you feel the pressure in all the right places, and you couldn’t help the small, involuntary movement of your hips. The sensation was subtle, but it shot straight through you, sending your heart racing. The tension built as you felt every slight shift, every playful nudge of Benny’s thigh beneath you.

“Benny . . .” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire.

“What’s wrong Little Bunny?” he asked, his voice teasing as he tossed his cigarette to the grass below, successfully finding something more entertaining. “You seem a little . . . squirmy.”

You bit your lip harder, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape. Benny’s thigh bounced just slightly beneath you, a slow, deliberate movement that made it impossible for you to remain still. The teasing pressure was driving you crazy, and every time you shifted, it only made things worse.

“If you keep moving like that, I might start thinkin’ you’re enjoying yourself,” he muttered, his voice full of that playful edge you had come to know all too well, his grip on her hips shifting. Your breath hitched, and your face grew impossibly hot as you pressed your thighs together, trying to steady yourself. But Benny shifted his thigh just so that you couldn’t find relief that way.

It was torture – and yet, you didn’t want it to stop. But you were in public so he needed to stop.

“Benny, please,” you whispered, your voice holding a mix of warning, desperation and something else you didn’t quite want to admit.

“Please what?” he asked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Tell me what you want, Bunny.”

Just as you were about to whisper something – anything – another voice spoke up, cutting through the haze of your thoughts.

“Bunny, you hear me?”

You snapped your head up, your eyes widening in panic as you realized someone had been talking to you. You blinked, trying to focus on the person in front of you, but it was all you could do not to feel the heat of Benny’s body pressing up against you in a way that made it impossible to think straight.

“Huh?” you stammered, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended.

Kathy, sitting a few feet away across the fire, raised an eyebrow at you. “I asked if you’re coming to the run tomorrow.”

Your face flushed even deeper with embarrassment, warmth spreading to your ears as you realized you had been caught up in what Benny was doing. You shifted slightly on his lap, trying to compose yourself. But Benny, ever the tease, took the opportunity to press his thigh even harder against you, sending a bolt of heat straight to your core. Your breath hitched, and you bit down on your lip to keep from making a sound.

“I . . . I’m sorry, what?” you managed to say with a shaky breath. You tried to focus on Kathy, but it was almost impossible with the way Benny was subtly bouncing his leg beneath you, his hands holding your hips tightly in place as if daring you to try to ignore him.

Kathy squinted, clearly noticing something was off. “You okay, Bunny? You look kinda . . . flustered.”

Flustered didn’t begin to cover it.

You tried to brush off the abashment gripped you nearly as tight as Benny did . “Y–yeah, I’m fine. Just a little . . . tired, I guess.”

Kathy’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t press further. “Right. Well, I was askin’ if you’re comin’ to the run tomorrow?”

Before you could respond, Benny, still sitting silently behind you, gave a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, his thigh pressing into you in a way that made you gasp softly. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth, mortified that the sound had slipped out.

Kathy raised an eyebrow, clearly noticing the sudden shift. “You sure you’re okay?”

You could barely breathe, your body squirming involuntarily as Benny continued his slow, sinful movements below. He hadn’t said a word, but you could feel the grin against your neck – the wicked, satisfied grin of someone who knew exactly what he was doing.

You cleared your throat as you stammered, “Y–yeah I’m okay,” you cleared your throat as you stammered, “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll be there tomorrow.”

Kathy gave you a long look, clearly skeptical, but before she could say anything else, one of the other members called her attention and you were left alone, still perched on Benny’s lap, still caught up in his merciless teasing.

As soon as Kathy’s attention shifted away, Benny leaned in close, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered, “Careful, Bunny. You’re making it hard to behave.”

“You’re doing this on purpose,” you hissed softly, a spike of irritation hitting you as you tried to pull away to find relief, but his hands tightened on your hips, holding you in place.

“Keep squirmin’ like that, and you’re gonna give us away, kid,” he said playfully, but you could hear the heat in his voice.”You’re so tense. You need to relax.”

Relax? That was impossible. Your heart pounded so loudly in your chest that you were sure someone would hear it. Every nerve in your body was on high alert, your skin tingling under Benny’s teasing hands. His grip was tight, but his thumb lazily stroked your hip as if he wasn’t torturing you, as if he didn’t have you barely able to breathe from the tension. Every subtle shift of his thigh, every gentle grind of his hip sent jolts of desire through your entire being.

“Benny,” your voice shook as you pressed your palm down hard against his other thigh, trying to get his attention. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. “You need to stop.”

“Stop?” he repeated innocently, but his hands slid down from your hips to your thighs, his fingers brushing just beneath the hem of your skirt. The touch sent a surge through you and you jumped. “Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop.”

And you didn’t. Not in the sense of the word. You wanted him – needed him, more than your lungs need air to breathe. But you couldn’t, not here, not in front of everyone. Your mind swirled with incoherent thoughts of trying to tell him to stop and trying to tell him to keep going.

“Just tell me, Bunny,” he breathed, his hands dragging their way back up to your hips. “Just tell me what you want, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

“Benny,” you hissed, your voice barely audible.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your struggle. “That’s not an answer.”

Just as you were teetering on the edge, you caught movement out of the corner of your eye. Skipco, ever the silent observer, was glancing over at the two of you, a curious look on his face. Your heart raced, panic flooding you as you realized how close you were to being caught. If Skipco saw the way you were squirming in Benny’s lap, if he put the pieces together . . .

Your breath hitched and you froze, trying to stay perfectly slow. But Benny, ever aware of you, must have noticed the shift in your body language. Just as you were about to lose it completely, just as the heat between them reached a dangerous peak, Benny’s hands on your hips loosened.

Without warning, he stopped.

The sudden lack of movement left you breathless, heart still racing and body still buzzing with pent up tension. You blinked, trying to process what just happened, but before you could even react, Benny leaned back, his expression calm and composed as ever. He acted like nothing had happened at all.

Your breath was shallow, your body still on edge, cheeks flushed from the heat and embarrassment. You shifted slightly in his lap, attempting to catch your breath, but the sudden absence of his teasing left you feeling both relieved and strangely frustrated. You had been close – too close – and now the tension he had so expertly built up inside you had nowhere to go.

Benny, however, didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. He shifted beneath you, adjusting you slightly on his lap, and then – just like that – he casually jumped back into the conversation, as if nothing had happened. He joined in on the jokes being tossed around the fire, his voice calm and smooth as ever, not even a hint of the wicked teasing he’d been torturing you with just moments ago.

You sat there, still perched on his lap, body still tingling from his touch, and you felt a wave of frustration wash over you. He had stopped. Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, just when you had been so close to losing your control, he had stopped. And now he was acting like it was nothing.

You wanted to be relieved – relieved that they hadn’t been caught, that Benny had goven in before anyone noticed. But at the same time, you couldn’t shake the frustration that burned inside you, the way he had left you wanted more, so close yet so far from the release that you so desperately craved.

His hand rested casually on your thigh now, no longer teasing or pushing, just a gentle, familiar touch. He smiled at something one of the others said, completely composed while you sat there still buzzing with need.

You glanced up at him, your eyes narrowing slightly in vexation. He caught your look, and just for a moment, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a small, knowing grin. That wicked, teasing grin that told you he knew exactly what he had done. Your jaw clenched as you realized he had left you like this on purpose – teasing you, pushing you, and then pulling back just when you thought you were going to break.

“You okay, Bunny?” he asked casually, his voice low but full of that damned teasing edge.

You practically glared at him, nodding as you didn’t trust your voice. You slid off his lap, your movements sharp and purposeful as you sat on the log beside him, making a point to leave a prominent space between the two of you. The cool night air was a welcome replacement to the warmth of his body. The sudden distance was a silent protest. You weren’t going to let him get away with mercilessly teasing you and then pretending nothing had happened.

His eyes flickered to you the moment you moved, and you could feel his gaze on you, but he didn’t say anything right away. You crossed your arms, leaning slightly away from him, pointedly avoiding his gaze as you focused on the fire instead.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Benny smirking, his eyes dark with amusement as he watched, but he didn’t move to break the distance you created. The rest of the night felt like it dragged on forever. Every little movement, every casual comment from Benny only heightened your annoyance. He didn’t push it further, didn’t tease you overtly in front of the others, but every now and then, his hand would brush against yours or he would lean in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, and it would send your pulse fluttering all over again.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your body still humming with need, and the subtle movement didn’t go unnoticed. Benny glanced your way, his eyes flickering over you for a brief moment before he returned to his conversation. But that one look told you everything. He knew you were flustered. He knew you were still thinking about what happened. And the fact that he wasn’t saying a word, wasn’t doing anything more to help you made it so much worse.

After what felt like an eternity, the conversation began to die down, and some of the other members started to head toward their bikes, getting ready to leave. You stood up quickly, eager for the excuse to move, to shake off the tension still clinging to you. You glanced down at Benny who was still lounging in his chair, watching you with that same infuriating smirk.

“Ready to go?” you asked with a quick, barely controlled voice.

Benny raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he slowly moved to stand, stretching as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour driving you absolutely mad. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You bit your lip, swallowing the building urge to snap at him. You turned on your heel, walking toward the truck (Benny’s bike had been in Cal’s workshop after it started giving him problems.) Your pace was quick as you tried to put some distance between him, but you could feel him behind you, following at his own leisurely pace, taking his sweet time.

When you reached the passenger door to the pickup truck, you crossed your arms over your chest and turned to face him as he caught up. And with enough distance put between the others still mingling around the fire, your anger finally bubbled to the surface.

“Do you always have to do that?” you blurted out, your voice sharper than you intended.

He tilted his head, his smirk never fading. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Benny Cross,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “You did it on purpose. You pushed me just far enough, then stopped.”

His grin grew at your use of his full name, and he took a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a playful tone. “I thought you liked it.”

The sensuality from the sound of his voice made you falter slightly, but you weren’t about to let him off that easily. “That’s not the point.”

“Are you mad at me, Bunny?” he asked lightly as if he found your anger amusing.

“Yes, I am,” you confirmed, shifting your stance to a more defiant one to prove your point.

“Oh,” he said, his face taking on a mock seriousness as he stepped even closer, his hands drifting to lean against the truck door, trapping you between them but not touching you. “Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Your heart raced again, an involuntary smile tugging at your lips. You hated him, hated how easily he could unravel you with just a few words, a few touches. But the truth was, you loved it too. As much as it frustrated you, as much as it left you feeling exposed, you craved it.

“You think you can just grin and fix everything?” you said, your voice shaky as you tried to sound firm, but the heat of his gaze was making it hard to stay mad.

Benny leaned in, close enough now for you to feel the heat radiating from his body. “Maybe not everything . . . but it seems to be working so far.”

You narrowed your eyes, attempting to hold onto your anger, but the proximity of him and the sarcastic quip of his was doing things to your resolve. He wasn’t touching you, not yet, but you could practically feel the anticipation rolling off him.

“You’re so unfair, Benny,” you muttered.

“I think you like it when I'm unfair,” he whispered, “You like it when I get you all riled up.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He was too close now, his eyes locked onto yours as if daring you to keep fighting him. Your heart hammered in your chest as his face hovered just inches above yours. He didn’t need to touch you to have you completely undone.

“I hate it,” you breathed, but the words were unconvincing, even to you.

“No, you don’t.” Benny’s smirk widened, his breath warm against your lips.

You were trapped, and your anger had melted away, replaced by something hotter, something more urgent. And then, just as you opened your mouth to snap again, Benny’s lips barely brushed against yours, a teasing, fleeting touch that sent a jolt of heat through you. It wasn’t enough, not nearly enough, but he pulled back before you could respond, leaving you breathless and frustrated all over again.

“Still mad?” he asked softly, his eyes roaming over your face as if he was taking in every detail like he was seeing it for the first time again.

You swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Benny almost laughed. “Good.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you properly this time, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that robbed you of your breath once again. You gasped against his mouth, your hands instinctively reaching up to grab his shirt, pulling him closer as your body melted into his. His hands finally left the door of the truck, finding your waist and squeezing gently as the kiss grew more desperate. You could feel the tension in his body, the way he was barely holding back, and it sent a thrill through you.

When he finally pulled back, you grinned up at him. You turned to the truck, opening the door with just enough force to make your point. Benny followed, slower and deliberate as he moved around to the driver’s door. Anticipation settled in your chest as you slid into the passenger seat. You knew you weren’t leaving the night behind just yet. The real teasing had only just begun.

Benny climbed into the driver’s seat, and for a moment, the silence between you was charged. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, a slow and steady rhythm as if he were biding his time. Then, without looking at you, he spoke. “We’re not done just yet, kid.”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep what little cool you had left, but the way he said it – calm, teasing and oozing with confidence that drove you crazy – left you speechless. You shifted in your seat.

Benny turned his head just slightly, catching your eye with a knowing smirk. “We’ll finish this when we get home.”

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable. You tried to play it off, giving a small shrug as you pretended to still be mad at him. “You better be ready for me.”

Benny laughed softly. “I’ve been ready for you all night.”

-Tag List-

@elizabeth916 @imusicaddict @jaiuneamesolitaiire @dudii4love @ironmooncat @beebeechaos @astrogrande @pearlparty @themorriganisamonster @charmingballoon @sillylittlethrowaway @ughdontbeboring @penwieldingdreamer @eugene-emt-roe @sunnbib @killerqueenfan @cynic-spirit @pomtherine @tranquilty @m00npjm @justsomewritingblog @thepassionatereader @rebecca-hvnstn @dreamlandcreations @buckysteveloki-me @simsiddy @zablife @sansaorgana @autumnleaves1991-blog @butler-trouble @lindszeppelin @wavyjassy @real-lana-del-rey @ilovehyperfixating @xcallmetaniax @lovenewfandoms @youngestxhearts @abaker74 @ateliefloresdaprimavera @thefallofthedamned @hottpinkpenguinreads @nctma15 @vendylewin @capswife @alexa4040 @pearlstiare @sweetestrose569 @18lkpeters @pao-prazz @thedreamingfish99 @mrsalwayswrite

#is it hot in here?#benny is a certified tease #benny cross #benny x bunny #the bikeriders #austin butler #benny cross x reader #austin butler x reader #austin butler fandom #imagine #benny x reader

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citrinae · 8 months ago

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mornings with them.

contents; fluff, suggestive themes. warming up with some bite-sized headcanons. hope you guys enjoy <3

ft. the monster trio

here for part 2

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy

if he’s up before you are, that’s only because of the growling sound coming from his stomach. cross-legged on the bed with a lost look in his eyes, “imma get something to eat.” he’s definitely forgotten about the piles of snacks he keeps in his locker and that he makes sure to restock after each meal with your crewmates.

i can see him being a cuddly type. really likes to hug you from behind. in bed, while you're standing up, while you're brushing your teeth. if you happen to be the one to wake up first, fetch him some food from the kitchen and you will earn yourself a good series of hugs from your boyfriend. if not, that's ok, because luffy is a biter too, and he will not hold back from digging his teeth into your shoulder to convince you to go to the kitchen with him. this may or may not lead to the two of you enjoying some other type of meal.

the thing is that luffy, the moment he wakes up, won't stand staying in for too long. especially if you're on land he'll want to explore the surroundings and will try to make you join him on the adventure. knowing how much of a menace he can be objectively speaking you may have no other choice but tag along, but trust me, nothing will make him happier than getting to spend the first hours of the day with his partner in crime <3

“that was so cool,” he's saying to you as your backs are glued to the wall of a random building, chests heaving. out of the corner of your eye, you can see a group of marines searching aimlessly for your missing shadows. luffy takes you by the hand, “we showed ‘em good.”

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

you wake up first. but you’re never getting out of bed before he would, and that’s in most cases due to the fact that the arms resting around you are too heavy to lift on your own. you tried slipping away once or twice, but he always managed to keep you there. not like you mind it one bit, nestling yourself at your boyfriend’s chest filling you with a strange sense of warmth you wouldn't let go that easily.

“easy, tiger. what’s the rush?” his voice is sleepy with a guttural undertone to it. “staying in for a minute longer won’t set the ship on fire or anything. proven.” zoro will try to make you two stay in bed with him for as long as possible. you don’t even get a chance to convince him otherwise as he’s quick to fall back into his snooze, and you are usually soon to follow. the second time you open your eyes it’s because of the voices and steps coming from the hallway telling you that you might’ve overslept.

he also likes it when you lazily climb on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, enjoying each other's presence in silence. in the morning, he may not be the best converser. but there are times his hand may roll down your back, taking a good squeeze of your butt with a smirk plastered on his face, and that's when you know you will definitely be late to your chores.

if you’re on land, he might make it a habit to carry you on his back for a morning jog, the sun unfurling behind your forms as hours roll past. if you’re more the athletic type like he is, he’d gladly have you running by his side. either way, i think starting his daily training with you would work like the perfect energiser for him. although he would never admit it out loud.

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

i find sanji to be quite the early bird, having to set up breakfast for the entire crew and doing some first-hour arrangements in the kitchen and all that, so he wakes up before you do. almost every time. he’s already done with more than half of his chores by the time you open your eyes. when it comes to you, however, breakfast in bed is one of the many tell-tale signs of special treatment, and more often than not you get to wake up to the smell of coffee or favourite tea and a well-thought mix of sweet treats.

corny is this man’s second language. if you’re on land, expect to see some tiny bouquets of flowers on the tray, either bought or picked from around the ship, everything looking just so dainty and perfect “like you are, my love.” one of them finds its way behind your ear with a sweet peck on your lips.

and not rarely does he join you with his own cup of tea. leg to leg, your head leaning against his shoulder. a hundred percent the type to smoke in bed. he likes to take a few moments of tenderness with you, gently kissing your shoulder and neck and talking about your plans for the day. sanji will intently listen to you talk about any weird dreams you had, but if you tell him he wasn’t present in any of them he’ll most certainly become a pouting mess.

he gets handsy quickly 💀 and your thighs are perhaps his favourite spot to feel beneath the sheets. the longer you let him he’s one step closer to skipping cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast. but the moment often shatters with some thuds at the door accompanied by luffy’s voice, all broken and teary, begging sanji to unlock the fridge.

#one piece x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #one piece scenario #one piece headcanons

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misswynters · 7 months ago

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Journey Begins — Chapter One

Dragon Twins Series

Aegon Targaryen x Dayne!fem!reader x Aerion Targaryen

[synopsis: You finally arrived at the capital, the land of in which aegon the conqueror came through. You are from the illustrious House Dayne from Dorne. You catch the eyes of the targaryen twin princes, aegon and aerion. You are betrothed to the heir apparent, Aegon Targaryen. Your new spouse is not very keen towards you, only his brother, Aerion shows slight interest.

[warnings: none

[work count: 3.3k

[a/n: i haven’t written in so long so bare with me. it’s proofread but i couldve missed something.

[note | it would greatly appreciated if you would not only just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. thank you!

| next chapter | masterlist |

The sun was setting as you made your way to King’s Landing. The banners of House Dayne which beared the white sword and falling star, fluttered against the warm breeze. You sat there, with your head held high as your eyes peaked through the small windows of the carriage. The only think you saw was the streets of the capital buzzing with people at the market and kids playing. The Red Keep loomed ahead, its imposing silhouette casting long shadows over the ancient city. As they approached, you could feel the weight of your family’s expectations that are now resting on your shoulders.

House Dayne, renowned for its ancient history and the legendary sword of Dawn, had always maintained an influential presence in the realm. Therefore your arrival in kings landing was not just a matter of formality; it was a declaration of the dayne influence and a future entailment of your role at the kings court. As the procession entered the castle gates, You were greeted by the sight of the Targaryen standard flying high above the ramparts. The dragon sigil seemed to shimmer in the fading light, a reminder of the power and legacy of the house you would soon be entangled with. You dismounted gracefully, your hair cascading over your shoulders, and adjusted your violet cloak, a gift from your family marking your status as a noble of Dorne.

Inside the red keep, the atmosphere was charged with anticipation. Nobles and the servants whispered amongst themselves as their eyes followed your presence. You were escorted to the grand hall where there was a feast being prepared in your honor. The hall was a marvel of architecture, with high ceilings adorned with intricate tapestries depicting the history of House Targaryen. The long tables were laden with an array of dishes, from roasted meats to exotic fruits, and the air was thick with the mingling scents of rich spices and sweet wines.

At the head of the hall, seated upon the dais, were the twin princes of the realm: Aegon and Aerion Targaryen. Aegon, the elder by mere minutes and the heir apparent, had an air of composed authority. His silver-gold hair was neatly trimmed, and his piercing violet eyes exuded a sense of calm determination. By contrast, Aerion's dark auburn hair fell in wild waves around his shoulders, and his eyes sparkled with mischief and restless energy. They were a striking pair, embodying the duality of fire and ice that defined their lineage.

You approached the dais with measured steps, your heart beating a little faster with each step. You bowed gracefully, acknowledging the princes with the respect due their station. "Your Highnesses," you greeted them, your voice steady and clear.

"Lady ___ Dayne," Aegon replied, his voice smooth and commanding. "Welcome to King’s Landing. Your presence here honors us."

Aerion leaned forward, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "Indeed, it is not often we are graced with such beauty and distinction from the South. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

Your eyes met Aerion's gaze, twinkling with amusement. "It was long but not without its charms, your grace. The roads of Westeros are always full of surprises."

Aegon’s expression softened slightly, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We are pleased you have arrived safely. There is much to discuss in the days to come, matters of great importance to both our houses."

As the day continued, the atmosphere in the Red Keep grew increasingly tense. You found yourself caught in the middle of a growing rift between Aegon and Aerion.

Aegon's cold demeanor persisted, though he made more of an effort to be present. You appreciated the attempts, but the connection you guys longed for remained elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a source of comfort and companionship, his presence a balm to your weary soul.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next evening, a ceremony was held to formally announce your betrothal to Aegon. The Great Hall was filled with nobles, lords, and ladies, all dressed in their finest attire. The air was thick with the scent of flowers and the sound of music, creating an atmosphere of celebration that belied the undercurrents of tension.

You stood beside Aegon, your hand resting on his arm as they greeted the guests. Aerion was nearby, his eyes never straying far from his brother and the person who would soon be his sister-in-law. As the ceremony began, You felt a growing sense of unease, a feeling that intensified with each passing moment.

The High Septon performed the ritual, binding their hands with a length of silk and speaking the ancient words that would unite them in the eyes of the Seven. You glanced at Aegon, hoping to find some hint of warmth or affection, but his expression remained stoic, his eyes fixed on the Septon.

As the ceremony concluded, the guests applauded, you and Aegon were led to the high table for the ceremonial feast. The hall was filled with laughter and conversation, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being on display, a pawn in a game of power.

Aerion joined you guys at the high table, his presence a welcome distraction from the tension that lingered between you and Aegon. As the feast progressed, you found yourself drawn into conversation with Aerion, his wit and charm a stark contrast to Aegon's brooding silence.

"Aegon, you must try the Dornish red," Aerion said, pouring a goblet of wine and passing it to his brother. "It's truly exceptional."

Aegon accepted the goblet with a curt nod, his eyes flicking briefly to you before returning to his food. "Thank you, Aerion," he said, his tone neutral.

You sighed inwardly, turning your attention back to Aerion. "Have you ever visited Dorne, Aerion?" you asked, hoping to steer the conversation to safer ground.

Aerion's eyes lit up. "Once, a few years ago. The landscape is breathtaking, and the people are as warm as the sun. You must show me around someday."

"I would love that," you replied, a genuine smile tugging at their lips. "There are so many places I could show you."

Aegon looked up, his expression darkening. "Is this appropriate?" he asked, his voice cold. "Discussing travel plans when we are in the middle of our betrothal feast?"

Your smile faltered, a flush of embarrassment coloring their cheeks. "I was just trying to make conversation," you said quietly.

Aerion's gaze hardened. "Aegon, there's no harm in a little light conversation. Surely you can see that."

Aegon's eyes flashed with anger. "I am your brother, Aerion, she is my betrothed. I expect you to respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "Aegon, this is our celebration. Can't we enjoy it without arguing, please?"

Aegon set his goblet down with a thud, his eyes boring into you. "I am trying to enjoy it, but it is difficult when you spend more time talking to my brother than to me."

You met his gaze evenly, you’re voice was steady. "I am trying to bridge the gap between us, Aegon. But respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The hall fell silent, the guests watching the exchange with wide eyes. Aerion placed a calming hand on your shoulder. "Let's not ruin this evening," he said softly. "We are family, and we should act like it."

Aegon's expression softened slightly, though the tension in his eyes remained. "Very well," he said, his tone grudging. "Let us enjoy the feast."

The rest of the evening passed in a strained silence, the earlier warmth and camaraderie replaced by a palpable unease. You did your best to engage with the guests, but their thoughts kept returning to the confrontation with Aegon and the growing tension between him and Aerion.

As the feast drew to a close, you excused yourself and retired to your chambers, exhaustion weighing heavily on your shoulders. You changed into your nightclothes and climbed into bed, your mind was racing with the events of the evening.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, you were awakened by a gentle knock on the door. The handmaidens entered, bringing fresh clothes and preparing a bath. As you got dressed, your thoughts turned to the day ahead and the many challenges that awaited you. Hoping that Aegon would soon find you more interesting and give you the attention as your husband.

After getting ready, you made your way to the dining hall, hoping for a quiet meal and a chance to unwind. To your surprise, Aerion was already there, seated at a small table near the window. He looked up as you entered, a welcoming smile on his face.

"Good morning, ___," he greeted, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. "Join me?"

You returned the smile and took a seat. "Good morning, your grace. I would love to."

You guys ordered a simple meal, the kind that reminded you of home, and settled into an easy conversation. The food was delicious, and the company even more so. Aerion's presence was a balm to your weary soul, and you found yourself laughing and talking late into the morning.

As the conversation flowed, you both continued to talked about your hopes and dreams, fears and uncertainties. Surprisingly, you found yourself opening up to him in a way you had never been able to with Aegon, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment.

"I never expected to find a friend here," you admitted with a soft voice. "But you have been a true friend to me, Aerion. Thank you."

Aerion smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are welcome, ___. I am glad to have found a friend in you as well."

Their laughter and easy banter were interrupted by the arrival of Aegon. His expression was stern, and his eyes flashed with irritation as he took in the scene before him. "What is going on here?" he demanded, his voice cold.

You and Aerion looked up, the warmth of your conversation dissipating in an instant. Aerion remained seated, his expression calm but his eyes defiant. "We were just having breakfast, brother."

Aegon's gaze shifted to you, a frown marring his handsome features. "This again…why are you speaking with him?"

Your met his gaze evenly, your heart pounding in your chest. "Aerion was kind enough to join me for breakfast. We were just talking."

Aegon's frown deepened. "Just talking? You are my wife. You should be spending time with me, not him."

Aerion stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. "Aegon, if you were around more often, perhaps ___ wouldn't feel the need to seek company elsewhere."

Aegon's face flushed with anger. "Stay out of this, Aerion. This is between me and my wife."

You stood as well, your voice firm. "Aegon, he has been nothing but kind to me. Ever since the ceremony, you have ignored me and treated me with indifference. I am trying to make the best of this situation, but you make it incredibly difficult."

Aegon's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and something else—guilt, perhaps. "I am your husband, and you will respect that."

You felt a surge of frustration. "I am trying to respect our union, but respect goes both ways. You cannot demand it if you do not give it."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Aerion watched the exchange with a thoughtful expression, his earlier amusement replaced by concern.

Finally, Aegon sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I...I will try to do better," he said, though his tone lacked conviction. He turned and left the hall, leaving you and Aerion standing in the aftermath of the confrontation.

Aerion placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "You did well. Aegon can be difficult, but he will come around."

“Though he does get drunk often as you’ve noticed these past few days, so be weary about that” he continued.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, frustration, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. "Thank you, your grace. I appreciate your support."

He smiled gently. "Anytime,” as he looked into your eyes “And call me by my name from now on. We are family now, after all." The young man left the dining hall, letting you all by your self and the servants worked the room.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

As the days passed, you tried to settle into your new life in the Red Keep. You attended council meetings, participated in court functions, and did your best to navigate the complex web of alliances and rivalries that defined the royal court.

Aegon remained distant, though he made an effort to be more present. He would sit with you during meals, engage in polite conversation, and accompany you to various events. However, the warmth and connection you had hoped for were still elusive. Aerion, on the other hand, continued to be a constant source of support and companionship.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day of court politics, you found yourself in the library, seeking solace among the dusty tomes and ancient scrolls. Aerion joined you, as he often did, settling into a quiet corner, a bottle of wine and two goblets between you.

"I heard you had a difficult day," Aerion said, pouring them each a generous measure of wine.

You sighed, taking the offered goblet. "It seems there is no end to the intrigue and scheming at court. I feel like I am constantly walking a tightrope."

Aerion raised his goblet in a toast. "To surviving another day in the snake pit."

Clinking your goblets together and drinking the wine, you felt a sense of ease with him. Talking late into the night, your conversations ranging from the mundane life to beyond. Aerion's wit and insight were a constant source of comfort, and you felt a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your new life.

As the candles burned low, you leaned back in their chair, a contented smile on their lips. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know what I would do without you."

He smiled, a warmth in his eyes that made your heart flutter. "You are stronger than you realize, ___. You will find your way."

You both parted ways reluctantly, each returning to your respective chambers. As always Aegon is nowhere to be found. He probably ran off somewhere in the capital to get drunk with his friends. If he meant what he said that morning when you met with aerion at the dining hall, he would be spending more time with you. Especially when it comes to sharing your chambers. From what aerion told you about aegon, he would go spend time with whores and get wasted. Though he is the heir apparent, he sure doesn’t act like it sometimes.

As you slipped into bed, the memory of Aerion's reassuring words lingering in your mind. Closing your eyes, you felt a sense of peace washing over them as you drifted off to sleep. At the back of your mind, thinking that the same things would happen continuously, everyday. Aegon ignoring you every time he sees you alone, yet causing an argument when you are with his twin.

࣪⠀⊹ ˑ ִ ֗ ִ ۫

The next morning, Aegon woke you with a sharp knock on the door. The sound echoed through the room, pulling you from a fitful sleep. You blinked against the early morning light, your mind still foggy from the remnants of your dreams.

"Wake up," Aegon called through the door, his voice stern. "We have a council meeting."

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you sat up. "I'm coming," you replied, trying to shake off the lingering weariness. The servants got you dressed quickly, donning the elegant attire befitting your noble status, and made your way to the council chamber.

The atmosphere in the room was tense when you entered, with Aegon by your side. The small council members were already seated, their expressions ranging from curious to disapproving. You recognized some of them: Lord Hand Otto Hightower, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships. Each of their gazes bore into you, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue.

Aegon led you to a seat near the head of the table, introducing you to the council with a formal tone. "This is Lady ___, my betrothed. She will be joining us from now on."

There were murmurs of acknowledgment, but you could feel the underlying tension. You glanced around the table, noticing the reluctant expressions and the way some of the members exchanged knowing glances. It was clear that the rumors about you and Aerion had reached their ears. As if on cue, Aerion entered the chamber, his presence commanding immediate attention. He took his seat with a nod to you and aegon, his expression composed.

The meeting began with the usual discussions of state affairs, taxes, and military matters. You listened attentively, trying to absorb the complex web of politics and alliances. You felt the weight of scrutiny on you, the council members' eyes frequently drifting your way.

After some time, Aegon addressed you directly. "Lady ___, what are your thoughts on the current state of the northern defenses?"

The question caught you off guard. You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I believe that the northern defenses are crucial for the security of the realm," you began, choosing your words carefully. "We must ensure they are well-manned and adequately supplied to withstand any potential threats."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "And how do you propose we achieve that?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the council's eyes on you. "By allocating more resources to the northern regions, increasing recruitment efforts, and ensuring that the commanders are experienced and well-equipped."

Aegon smirked, a mocking glint in his eyes. "Is that so? And where do you suggest we find these resources? Shall we simply conjure them out of thin air?"

A few of the council members chuckled, and you could feel a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck. You clenched your fists against your dress, struggling to maintain your composure. "No, of course not," you said, your voice trembling slightly. "We can reallocate funds from less critical areas, and seek additional support from our allies."

Aegon leaned back in his chair, his smirk widening. "Reallocate funds? Seek additional support? It seems you have all the answers, Lady ___. Perhaps you should be sitting in my seat."

The laughter around the table grew louder, and you felt a surge of anger and humiliation. You reached for your goblet, your hand trembling with rage, as you hurled it across the table. The goblet flew past Aegon's head, narrowly missing him, and crashed against the wall, spilling wine everywhere.

The room fell into stunned silence, the council members staring at you in shock. Aegon's expression darkened with fury, but before he could speak, you stood up, your eyes blazing with defiance.

"I will not be humiliated like this," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I am trying to do my best, but you make it impossible."

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed out of the room, leaving a trail of shocked silence in your wake. As you walked down the corridors of the Red Keep, tears of frustration and anger welled up in your eyes. You had tried so hard to bridge the gap between yourself and Aegon, but it seemed that every step you took only widened the chasm.

You retreated to your chambers, slamming the door behind her. You sank onto your soft bed, burying your face in your hands. The weight of your new life, the constant scrutiny, and the growing tension with Aegon were all becoming too much to bear.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your solemn thoughts. You wiped your tears stained eyes and took a deep breath before opening the door. To your surprise, it was Aerion.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, though your voice betrayed you. "I'm fine. Just... overwhelmed."

Aerion stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I saw what happened. Aegon can be cruel, but you did well to stand up to him."

You looked up at him, grateful for his support. "Thank you, Aerion. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Aerion sat beside you, his presence comforting. "Aegon will come around, eventually. But in the meantime, you have me."

You managed a small smile, the tension in your chest easing slightly. "Thank you. I don't know what I would do without you."

Aerion's eyes softened, and he reached out to gently squeeze your hand. "We'll get through this together."

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