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anisespice · 10 months ago

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“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?”

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband.

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?”

“Did he…say we were?”

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

#🍁wasabi #*weakly holds up to the light*#it...is...FINISHED #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #mikey sano #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #ran x reader #ran haitani #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo

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rainbowbutterfrosting · 3 months ago

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I was playing ace attorney last night and had a realization of my true power. So here's some of the dream situation in ace attorney format lmao

PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP I SPENT SOOOO LONG ON IT

Note:

This isn't meant to be a proper summary, I'm just having fun sldfkj

If there's errors in the video then oopsie. I'm not gonna fix them just bc it would be too much effort. (Also, some things are worded weirdly bc I took them directly from videos. Primarily with stuff Dream's saying)

If there's errors in the transcript below, then let me know!! Though I haven't captioned everything in the video, just all the dialogue and some relevant sound effects.

In case anyone's curious, I used objection.lol

Transcription under cut, though I'd recommend watching the video for music and sound effects :]]]]] I just put it as an option for those who use screen readers, have bad connection, etc.

The second week of January 2025.

Chat, as the Gallery in Ace Attorney: GET HIS ASS. SLAY (LITERALLY) hi youtube

[Gavel slams]

Tubbo, as the Judge: Trial is now in Session for Dreamwastaken.

Tubbo: Dream, your opening statement, please.

Dream, as Cody Hackins: Tommyinnit posted a video yesterday that was titled "Dream" where he said a lot of stuff about me that isn't true.

[Hold it!]

Tommyinnit, as Phoenix Wright: Is it not true that you called my fanbase a slur?

Dream: Okay yeah, I did do that. I'm sorry. Genuinely.

Tommyinnit: Good. That was the absolute bare minimum.

Tommyinnit: But what about the misogyny? And how you and your friends treat women?

Dream: You have no examples.

[clever sound]

Dream: What if I just said you're racist and called it a day!

Tubbo: You called two different women "whores." Please amend your testimony.

Dream: Ah. Yeah, but it was to my friend. She wasn't upset at all!

[Objection!]

Ludwig, as older Phoenix Wright: Lmao

Dream: Okay but I meant it in the affectionate way!!! Like in the way I've called my cat a whore.

[Loud chatter from the Gallery]

Chat: SHANE DAWSON???? HE WHAT!!!!!!! [shuttering camera] I'm lost. Are they still fighting over discs?

Dream: Whatever, that's long enough ago. I did what I could about the situation.

Tommyinnit: My video wasn't just about that. It was also how you've been awful to me. It started with early Dream SMP when-

[Objection!]

Dream: Tommy, there's no way that you actually believe this. Saying I was terrible to you with no examples or anything- like- if you don't think that my intention was to help you, then what was my intention? Why did I do all of that?

[Loud chatter from the Gallery]

Chat: BRO THAT'S WHAT WE'RE WONDERING TEXTBOOK MANIPULATION POGCHAMP Is this new lore for c!Dream?

[Hold it!]

Tommyinnit: You thrived off of holding my success over my head! You didn't treat me like an equal!

Dream: [Desk slam] I saw potential in you!

Tommyinnit: Yet you called me a promoter for saying I was working on my podcast, book, and comedy tour?

Dream: [Critical hit sound] So why is my content worth less value?! I'm sorry that I like coding and hanging out with my friends??

[Gavel slams]

Tubbo: No one was saying that?

Tubbo: You keep taking Tommy's clips out of context. Shouldn't you be more responsible with the clips you take since you're aware of the gravity of some of these claims?

Dream: [Surprised Sound] Because-

Dream: You're saying-

Dream: Uh-

Chat: [lots of periods and question marks]

[Disappointed sound]

Dream: That's a good point, Tubbo.

Dream: That's actually a really good point.

Tubbo: Thanks. :/

Jack Manifold, as Winston Payne: [while applause plays] !! Shut Up I'm Talking Patreon ONLY $7 !!

#dream situation #tubbo #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #dream negative #jack manifold #look he's at the end but he's so iconic i love him #ace attorney #objection.lol #dream smp #dsmp #mcyt #mcyt drama #dsmp drama

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aurumalatus · 7 months ago

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year.

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect.

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue.

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer.

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places.

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks.

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops.

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly.

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him.

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side.

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now.

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure.

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing.

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his.

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #kinich #kinich x you #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #adeptus ink

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shurisneakers · 25 days ago

Text

unsolved (xii)

Summary: Bucky doesn’t even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet’s amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky, obnoxious reader, forests, sabotaging

A/N: no memes this chapter i ltrly just wanted to get one out but they will return next chapter trust. please ignore formatting errors and typos. I literally edited this whole thing and formatted it on my phone and it lagged and glitched the entire way.

Previous part || Series masterlist

The morning, though loud and annoying, has a particular ease to it.

There’s ridiculously hot coffee. Scraping forks and crunch from burnt pancakes. Multiple conversations layered over the sound of Bruce’s ridiculously long voicemail playing on speaker.

“--just checking in. Hope you’re still alive. If not, well, I guess you won’t call back. Anyway, Steve, if you get this, tell Bucky-”

Bucky rejects the phone sliding across the table towards him without even looking at it. “I’m not listening to that. Last time spent fifteen minutes before telling me that his shorts were in my laundry load.”

Nat hides a small, amused smile behind her coffee mug.

Clint finishes what might have once been a waffle, but has now been smothered into an unidentifiable state.

Bucky is exactly where he always is, at the end of the table, hoodie sleeves shoved up, coffee in one hand, headphones on with no music playing, just so that he has an excuse to not talk.

Someone’s already taken a bite of his toast and he’s been glaring about it ever since.

Until you walk in. Half-dressed for the day already, jacket thrown over your shoulder, keys spinning on your finger.

He looks up when you walk in, taking his headphone off one ear and giving you a curt nod when you wave at him. It takes him too long to realise his lip is curled up in the corner.

And that someone’s taken his toast.

“You going somewhere?” Sam asks, barely looking up from his Kindle.

It’s offhanded, like he only just registered the way you’re dressed.

“Yeah. I’m leaving.”

The table pauses. Your face doesn’t betray any emotion but Bucky registers your jaw tightening in the most miniscule manner. Like you’re waiting for a challenge, anxious energy vibrating from you, but standing your ground nonetheless.

Steve flips the page of his newspaper. “Eat something before you go.”

“If you’re coming back late, leftovers will be in the microwave,” Nat says, reaching for more marmalade.

Sam's finger swipes across the screen. “Text if you need anything."

Your shoulders loosen a little.

Bucky reaches for another slice of toast, hiding a smile behind the chipped coffee mug that Clint got him from some garage sale in Lithuania? Maldives? Somewhere.

“A'ight,” you say, stealing the newpiece of toast off Bucky’s plate, ignoring his complaints, and taking a bite.

Eventually, Steve asks, “Where you headed, anyway?”

You chew for a second before grinning around your mouthful.

“Bigfoot.”

Another collective pause follows.

Sam exhales. “I don’t want to ask, but I feel like I have to.”

You finish chewing. “Haunted reality competition. Going to Washington to look for Bigfoot. Loch Ness. You know. The classics.”

Nat hums. “Loch Ness is in Scotland.”

You shrug unaffectedly. “Then I guess we’re only finding half the legends.”

“Can I come?” Clint pipes up. “I have exper–”

“No.” Sam shakes his head. “Last time you did one of these, I had to read an article titled ‘Avengers Caught in Paranormal Disaster?’”

Clint hums. “Disaster is a strong word.”

Sam throws a look at him. “You fell through a wall.”

Clint shrugs. “Weak wall.”

“You fell twice.”

“Weak architecture.”

You grin, finishing the toast, before squeezing Bucky’s shoulder. “You coming?”

Bucky reaches for the third piece of godforsaken toasf. “My bag’s in the car.”

“See you there.” You grab your jacket and walk out the door.

The second you’re gone, the entire table turns to Bucky, eerily in sync.

He immediately puts the headphone back on his exposed ear and doesn’t even glance up, even though his face starts burning immediately because he knows. He fucking knows what’s about to happen.

“What,” he bites.

Steve shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”

Sam leans back, stretching his arms. “Man, you’re not even pretending anymore.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He desperately swallows down his coffee to get out of there as swift as possible.

“Dude. You had your bag packed before you were even asked.”

Bucky shrugs, completely unbothered. “Usually I don’t get asked.”

Nat finally speaks, slow, knowing. “Yeah, you made it pretty clear you don’t need to be.”

Silence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You loser.”

Bucky grabs a piece of bacon and makes an ungraceful exit like the superstar that he is.

Someone steals his stupid toast for the third time.

_________

The road stretches out ahead, empty and winding.

The kind of road that doesn’t feel fully real. Just an endless stretch of trees and sky, the occasional fading sign pointing toward a town no one’s heard of.

The car hums steady beneath you, the windows cracked just enough to let in the cool air.

The radio is low, playing some random playlist, but mostly, the background noise is Bucky’s occasional exhale at the nonsense you're spewing and the smooth glide of the tires on the road.

You’re driving, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other resting near the console. Bucky is in the passenger seat, hoodie sleeves pushed up, one knee braced against the door.

He looks comfortable.

That only means it's time to ruin it.

“I looked up the competition details again.”

Bucky hums, shifting slightly. “And?”

“Wanna guess what the prize is?”

“Please don’t say money. That would make this worse.”

You glance at him, amused. “Why would money make it worse?”

“Because then I’d have to think about the fact that you’re technically employed by cryptid clout chasers.”

"That's not how it works." You snort, shifting gears. “It’s not money.”

“Then what?”

You pause, letting the anticipation build before saying,

“A trophy.”

“A trophy,” he repeats, flat.

You nod, grin widening. “And not just any trophy. A gold-plated bust of Bigfoot’s head.”

“I hope we lose.”

“You’re gonna love it when we win.”

Bucky gives you a look. “What does winning even mean in a Bigfoot competition?”

You shrug. “You have to submit video evidence. Best sighting wins.”

Bucky shakes his head. “What does second place get?”

“A silver-plated bust of Bigfoot’s head.”

He pauses. “…And third?”

You grin.

“Bronze Bigfoot.”

“Fourth place it is, then."

"As if. We're gonna dominate, baby."

The miles slip by, unnoticed.

At some point, you tilt your head toward him. “How’s Alpine?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “She’s started ripping up my curtains again.”

You nod like this is completely reasonable. “What did you do to her?”

“I’ve done fuckin’ nothing. I got her a bed. I got her some stupid toys. I even made a dumb scratch post. She just won't let up. What’s her fuckin problem?”

“You know she’s doing this to fuck with you, right? She thinks it’s funny that you get mad but then get her new things every week.”

“Yeah, and she told you all this herself, yes?”

“It’s not like we talk about you. We talk about other things, you just come up occasionally.”

“I don’t care about the opinions of some fuckin’ cat.”

“Witch cat.”

“Whatever.”

Bucky shifts, rolling his window down slightly, letting the air move through the car.

At some point, he tilts his head slightly, studying you.

You’re focused on the road, fingers tapping absently against the wheel in time with the music.

The sun filters through the windshield, casting soft light against your face.

Bucky doesn’t look away immediately.

The road stretches on.

_______

The road narrows into a dirt path, the wheels crunching against gravel as you pull up to what can only be described as a God-abandoned nightmare.

The campground cabins sit at the edge of the woods, weathered, slightly crooked, and looking like it has at least five different species living in the walls.

Front porches are warped, the railing missing entire sections, and the windows look more decorative than functional.

Bucky stares out the windshield.

“I want you to understand something,” he says.

You hum, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Yeah?”

“This is worse than any warzone I've been in.”

You snort. “You’ll be fine.”

Bucky just looks back at the cabin and immediately rolls his window back up.

You swing the car door open, stepping onto the gravel, stretching from the long drive. The air is cool, crisp, smelling of trees and damp earth.

Across the clearing, you can see the other teams arriving, unpacking gear, setting up equipment.

There’s a mix of energy. Some people look like actual professionals with camera rigs and audio setups, the other half look like they googled ‘how to catch Bigfoot’ once and immediately packed a bag. You were a healthy middle. This made you better than them in many ways.

Bucky watches a guy in a bright orange jacket gesturing wildly at his partner.

“I’m telling you, we should’ve brought the infrared–”

“We couldn’t afford the infrared, Jason–”

“To win, we must invest-”

“There are people worse than us,” he points out. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

You grin, nudging the trunk open. “Wait till you see the matching team uniforms I got us.”

“I would literally rather die.”

You grab your bag, “Well, you can't right now, because we’re gonna have to socialize.”

Bucky, grabbing the bag from you instead and slinging it over his shoulder, pauses mid-step.

You gesture at the other teams. “We should at least know who we’re up against. Plus, I wanna see who looks the most insane. That’s how we weed out our biggest competition.”

Bucky does not bother saying otherwise, “I’m not doing any talking.”

You grin, pleased at the complete breakdown of his will to your wishes.

“Come on, babygirl,” you say, patting his arm. “Let’s go meet the competition.”

Bucky scans the area.

A guy in a tie-dye hoodie and cargo shorts is holding a homemade electromagnetic sensor, waving it over the ground. To his left, a woman in head-to-toe camo is assembling what looks like a makeshift crossbow.

And then, the competition makes itself known.

A guy in a bright orange jacket and an unnecessarily dramatic scarf saunters over, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

You immediately recognize him as the guy who was arguing earlier about infrared cameras.

He stops a few feet away, surveying you both.

“New team?” he asks, voice way too serious.

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “No, we’re just tourists.”

Orange Jacket ignores him, turning to you. “What’s your strategy?”

You tilt your head. “For what?”

“For winning.”

You glance at Bucky. “Do we have a strategy?”

Bucky shrugs. “Sex appeal. I thought you wanted me to take my shirt off."

Orange Jacket does not blink. “Unconventional.”

You nod. “We like to push the envelope.”

Orange Jacket finally sticks out a hand. “Jason.”

You shake it. “Nice to meet you, Jason.”

Jason gestures vaguely to the chaotic scene behind him. “We’re one of the top teams here. We’ve been finalists for three years running.

“Wow,” Bucky says. “That’s… impressive.”

Jason squints. “You don’t sound impressed.”

“Oh, no, I am.” Bucky says flatly. “I’m very impressed.”

Jason stares at him. “This is a sport.”

Bucky presses his lips together.

You butt in before Bucky has an aneurysm, “Well, Jason, I wish you the best of luck.”

Jason nods solemnly. “You’ll need it more.”

And then he disappears back into the crowd.

Bucky watches him go, then glances at you. “I hate him.”

You hum. “It’s important to have a nemesis.”

Bucky exhales, shaking his head. “You already took that spot months ago.”

“I think that’s so sexy and romantic. It’s a shame we aren’t making out angrily right now against that tree.”

Bucky stares. You stare at him.

“Which tree?” he asks finally.

“Bitch, why is that your question? Do you have a preference? All trees here–”

Before he can respond with something equally stupid, another group approaches. A trio of women, all wearing flannel, all looking wildly competent.

The one in front nods at you. “You guys here for fun or for real?”

You grin. “Why not both?”

She nods. “Alright, respect.”

Bucky glances at them, mildly suspicious. “What’s your deal?”

“Expedition research group,” she says. “We do deep-dive investigations into folklore and cryptids.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “You’re real scientists?”

One of them smirks. "About as real as it can get.

You pipe in immediately, “So, which one of you has the best Bigfoot sighting story?”

The woman gestures toward her friend, a tall redhead who looks like she could fight God and win.

“She saw something in Oregon once.”

The redhead nods sagely. “Could’ve been a bear. Could’ve been Bigfoot.”

You nod. “Incredible.”

Bucky rubs a hand over his face, muttering, “This is so dumb.”

You grin. “Nah. This is a sport.”

"I guess you guys met Jason," the redhead says. "He can get crazy about these things, so I'd watch out for him. Last time they used signal jammers to make sure people got no cell service so they couldn't go too far."

"Thanks for the heads up," you tell them, glancing at Bucky.

Loud microphone feedback drags your attention away. The organizers stand on a makeshift platform, which is really just the porch of one of the only standing cabins.

A short, stocky guy in a trucker hat steps forward, raising a megaphone.

“Alright, folks!” he yells, voice gravel-thick, deeply unbothered, like he’s done this a thousand times. “Listen up. Time for the official rundown.”

The teams gather around, some paying full attention, others already looking like they’re plotting ways to cheat.

“First off, let’s get the obvious out of the way. This is a competition. So you sign the waiver, you take responsibility for your dumbass decisions.”

There’s a general murmur of understanding.

“Second,” he continues, “this year’s challenge is focused on evidence collection. The goal isn’t just to make contact. It’s to prove you did. That means photos, audio, video, footprints, fur, whatever you can get your hands on. The more convincing, the better.”

Someone from the back shouts, “What about physical capture?”

The organizer blinks, before slowly and deliberately saying, “I dare you.”

You grin. “Alright Bucky, that’s our goal.”

Bucky shrugs. "Sure, what the hell."

“Now, because we don’t want you guys running wild all over Washington state, we’ve set specific boundaries for the hunt.”

He gestures to a giant, laminated map behind him.

“The active zone is roughly thirty square miles of forest. You go outside the zone? You’re disqualified. You get lost outside the zone? That’s not our problem.”

You whisper, “That sounds like a threat.”

“Sounds like a promise," he whispers back.

The guy continues.

“We’re running this for two nights. You report back both mornings with your findings. At the end, our panel of cryptid experts will review the evidence and determine the winner.”

Bucky makes a face. “Cryptid experts?”

Jason, your new nemesis, nods sagely from a few feet away.

“This is a sport,” he mouths.

“Last thing. No physical interference. No touching other teams’ equipment, no blocking their shots, no hiding their evidence. Anything else?”

A girl near the front raises a hand. “What’s the actual prize?”

The guy puffs his chest out. “Pride. Glory.”

Silence.

He deflates. “Trophy and a gift card for 100 dollars.”

“Hell yeah.”

The guy claps his hands once. “Alright, that’s it. You’ve got the rules. You’ve got the map. Now get to work.”

And just like that, teams scatter like they’re already three steps ahead.

“The game is afoot,” you say.

“The game is a bigfoot,” Bucky murmurs distractedly before horror dawns on him. “What the fuck have you turned me into?”

“My boyfriend soon, I hope.”

Bucky ignores your last comment because he’s already dug himself a hole. “What’s the actual strategy here?”

“Step one: Figure out how we’re gonna trick these judges into thinking we actually found something.”

Bucky narrows his eyes. “And step two?”

You pat his shoulder. “Step two is your job.”

“No.”

“Step three: we pick the tree you want to makeout against.”

“Stop.”

The sun is starting to dip, streaking the sky with hazy orange and purple as you and Bucky haul your stuff inside before you start hunting.

The cabin is a structural crime against humanity, to put it kindly.

The floorboards creak threateningly with every step. The walls smell like something died in them a long time ago and no one bothered to check where.

The single lightbulb overhead flickers like it’s debating whether or not to give up completely.

Bucky steps inside, looks around once. “I am going to die here.”

You kick your bag further inside. “That’s the spirit.”

The room is barely furnished, just a rickety wooden table, two mismatched chairs, and a couch.

There’s a wood-burning stove in the corner and a door that leads to what technically counts as a bedroom.

Bucky steps forward, pressing down on the floor with his boot. The wood groans.

Bucky shakes his head, grumbling as he sets his bag down. “I was in Europe last week. I stayed in a five-star hotel.”

You grin. “And now you’re here. With me. Your life is so good.”

A sharp rustling outside makes you both pause.

You glance toward the window, which is so murky and scratched that it’s basically useless.

Bucky doesn’t move. “If that’s Jason trying to sabotage us, I’m going to throw him into the woods.”

You perk up. “Ooh, good idea. Do it on camera so I can get extra footage. I'm gonna use it as B-Roll."

Bucky levels a look at you.

You grin.

_______

The forest is quiet.

The beam of your flashlight cuts through the dark, swinging between thick trunks and scattered leaves.

Bucky walks beside you, hood pulled up because it's fucking cold, hands in his pockets.

The air is cool, the damp smell of earth settling in your lungs.

Bucky breaks first.

“You know,” he says, voice even, “I looked up Bigfoot sightings in the car.”

You glance at him, delighted. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” He adjusts his sleeve. “Some guy saw it in a Walmart parking lot. Someone else swore on his life that he saw Bigfoot at a pool party.”

“A pool party?”

Bucky shrugs. “That’s what he said.”

You squint. “Was he, like, invited? Or did he just show up?”

"Donno. I clicked out of the tab immediately."

You’re about to comment when your boot caches on a branch, making you stumble.

Bucky catches your arm without thinking, steadying you before you can fully trip.

“You good?”

You grin. “Didn’t know you cared.”

Bucky lets go immediately.

You keep walking, slower this time.

Eventually, you swing your flashlight up, watching the glow disappear into the trees. “Okay, serious question.”

“Doubt it.”

You ignore him. “Dumbest thing you’ve ever done on a mission?”

“Define dumb.”

“Up to interpretation.”

Bucky hums, considering.

“2015. Northern Italy. Steve and I were supposed to take out this arms deal happening in a vineyard.”

“A vineyard?”

“Yeah. Nice place. Good wine.”

You snort. “I love that that’s your takeaway.”

Bucky ignores you. “Anyway. Intel said it was going down in one of the cellars. Supposed to be a small, controlled environment, easy to manage. But the problem was, we didn’t have the exact location. Just a general area.”

You nod along. “Okay.”

“So Steve tells me to ‘blend in’ while he scouts the outside.”

“Did you?”

Bucky shakes his head, staring at the trees. “Listen. I was tired. I hadn’t slept. So instead of being a normal human being and just waiting, I signed up for a vineyard tour.”

You snort.

“Like, the full thing. Tastings, cheese pairings, little booklet of wine notes. The whole experience.”

“Did Steve–”

“Found me forty minutes later, mid-tour, holding a glass of Merlot.”

“Were you drunk?”

“No, but I forgot what we came there to do.”

“Did it work?”

Bucky gestures vaguely. “The deal was in the cellar. I was right.”

“Oh, so the Merlot gave you divine clarity.”

“Exactly.”

You shake your head, grinning.

Bucky watches you for a second, fingers tapping absently against his flashlight.

You don’t notice.

You’re too busy grinning at any vaguely strange movement in the woods, too busy leaning into the moment like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The wind shifts, the leaves rustling softly above you.

The moment sits there, warm and settled.

Bucky clears his throat. “Your turn.”

“Huh?”

“Dumbest thing you’ve done on a mission.”

"Oh, that’s easy.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

You swing your flashlight back toward the trees, stepping over a fallen log.

“i once spent three hours stuck in a vent because I refused to admit that my plan was bad.”

“Three hours?”

“Okay, so Leviathan training programme. Supposed to be simple. Get in, get the intel, get out.” You swing your flashlight up. “And I had a perfect route planned. Minimal exposure, minimal risk.”

Bucky hums, skeptical. “And where did the vent come in?”

You sigh. “See, that’s where things got complicated.”

Bucky snorts. “Right.”

You adjust your grip on the flashlight. “Turns out, the hallway I thought would be empty very much was not. So I had two options.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “Normal options or your options?

“Oh, definitely my options.” You hold up a finger. “Option One: Hide. Wait it out. Find a new route.”

“Sounds reasonable, so I assume you didn’t do that.”

“Option Two: Take the vent system.”

“You looked at a basic tactical problem and decided that the correct solution was to crawl through the air ducts like a goddamn rat?”

“Yes. Anyway,” you continue, unbothered, “I thought it was a genius idea. Until I got stuck. Like, wedged. Completely immobile.”

“Tell me you had backup.”

“Absolutely not. And I obviously couldn’t radio in, because that would’ve been embarrassing. So I spent three hours slowly wiggling backward. Eventually went the wrong way, fell through the vent because turns out, the movies are wrong about how strong they are. Fell into a room with a bunch of agents that were following me around because turns out, vents are also not quiet.”

His laugh is soft, unguarded, a sound you don’t hear often.

You grin. “Anyway, I told them I was from security and that they failed a ventilation breach test.”

He shakes his head, muttering, “Jesus Christ,” like he can’t believe you’re a real person.

You nudge him with your elbow. “You ever get stuck in a vent?”

“No.”

“Shame.”

And then your foot catches on something that shouldn’t be there.

The ground drops out beneath you.

For half a second, you’re weightless.

Then a sharp yank reminds you you're not.

You stumble, body jerking backward as Bucky’s hand locks around your arm, hauling you back onto solid ground.

If you weren't so focused on that fact that you almost face planted, you would have noticed that Bucky's arms were both around your shoulders, holding you steady. Turns out his metal arm ran warm.

There’s a dull, heavy thud as the dirt fully collapses in front of you, revealing a man-made pit.

“What the fuck?”

Your flashlight beam dips into the hole. It’s deep enough to trap someone, but not deep enough to kill. The bottom is just dirt, loose leaves, and some broken branches.

“Okay,” you say, lowering your voice. “So, on a scale from ‘this is fine’ to ‘mild concern,’ where are we sitting right now?”

Bucky remains expressionless. “I’m going back to the cabin.”

“You’re quitting?”

“Yes. None of this is worth it.”

“No, but–” you gesture wildly, “we’re onto something.”

“You fell into a hole. Real something we're onto here.”

You glare. “Well, when you say it like that, it sounds stupid.”

Bucky shoves a hand through his hair, calming the mild racing of his heart in panic. “It is stupid.”

“Okay,” you say, “new plan.”

Bucky doesn’t look at you. “Is the new plan ‘go back to the cabin’?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you can stay here, but– oh,” he cuts himself off when your words register. “We’re going back?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you said so.”

His eye twitches. “We can’t go back now.”

“You literally just said–”

“Yeah, but you almost fell into a hole. We’re just gonna give up?”

You stare at him. “You’re so confusing sometimes. Can you pick a side?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“And you’ll follow?”

“Conditionally.”

You pat his cheek. “I can work with that.”

____

The cabin is dimly lit, the lantern on the table casting long shadows against the walls.

Outside, the wind has picked up, making the old wood creak and groan like it’s reconsidering its existence.

You’re still ranting.

Bucky, on the other hand, is stretched out on the couch from hell, arm tucked behind his head, looking half-asleep while you pace near the table.

“We could tamper with their equipment. Maybe not destroy it, just… compromise its integrity.”

Bucky cracks an eye open. “That’s literally destroying it.”

“Semantics.” You wave a hand. “Or we mess with their food. Make them sick so they have to drop out.”

“Jesus, no.”

You snap your fingers. “We burn down the cabins.”

“Go to sleep. Stick with the ‘stealing their flashlight plan’.”

You ignore that completely.

“They want to play dirty?” You cross your arms. “We’ll bury them.”

“You almost got buried an hour ago.”

You glare, throwing yourself into the rickety chair by the table.

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I did. At 12AM. I’m no longer taking anything seriously at 3AM,” Bucky mutters, shifting to get comfortable. “Go to bed.”

You peek up. “You’re taking the couch?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to.”

Bucky sighs, voice gruff, low. “I’m taking the couch.”

You frown. “It’s like, the worst couch in the world.”

“Not the worst.”

“It literally is.”

Bucky doesn’t argue but he doesn’t move, either.

You sigh heavily, leaning back. “Where’s the washroom?”

“Outside.”

You blink. “Outside?”

A devious smile curls at the corner of his lip. “Yeah.”

You sit up. “Like– where outside?”

Bucky tilts his head toward the door. “Outhouse.”

A long pause follows before,

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope.”

You exhale through your nose, standing abruptly.

“Okay.” You gesture vaguely toward the door. “I’m gonna go suffer through the outhouse now. And then I’ll eat barley for breakfast and die from the plague.”

Bucky snickers, drifting off.

“You sure you don’t want the bed? We can share, if you don’t mind.”

He hums. “What makes you think I mind?”

“Well, you’re sleeping on the birthplace of hepatitis instead of sharing a bed with me.”

“I’m being gentlemanly.”

“Oh, is this a courtship now?”

“Depends. You got a prized cow?”

“I got a witch cat and soon, a gold bust of Bigfoot.”

“Insufficient.”

“I can get Wanda to make me a cow.”

“Goodnight.”

"Did you pick that tree out yet? I saw s real good looking one right outside our cabin if you--"

"Good night."

______

The morning rolls in slow, mist curling between the trees, the cold settling into the damp wood of the barely functional cabin.

You wake up to the sound of Bucky moving around, the floor groaning beneath his weight.

You blink, squinting at the weak light filtering through the window.

“What time is it?” you mumble.

Bucky, dressed to the nines in his black hoodie and black pants, shrugs. “Dunno. Afternoon.”

You groan, rubbing your face. “You’re one of those people who wakes up before their alarm, huh?”

Bucky grabs his hoodie off the chair. “I wake up before your alarm.”

“Did you sleep at all?” You question. "I heard you tossing around all night."

He stifles a yawn. “Someone kept scratching against the door every half an hour.”

“What, like a ding dong ditch? That's so fucking lame.”

“People take this shit way too seriously,” he grumbles. “We missed breakfast, by the way.”

You swing your legs over the bed, stretching. “You making food?”

Bucky scoffs. “One spark and this place burns to the ground.”

“We’re stealing from another team, then.”

“Yeah.”

____

The campsite is already alive, teams hunched over maps, adjusting equipment, eating protein bars like they’re rationed war supplies.

You survey the scene, arms crossed, still mildly bitter about last night.

Bucky is too droopy-eyed to care. He could frankly lie down on the ground and go to sleep right now.

Jason’s team is hyper-focused, planning some over-complicated strategy.

Meanwhile, the scientist trio is sitting in a loose circle, drinking coffee, looking completely, utterly relaxed.

Your eyes land on their camera setup.

A good camera. A professional rig.

And a shovel. With dirt on it.

With the tenacity of a circus acrobat, you immediately jump to conclusions.

You nudge Bucky.

He glances at you, mid-bite of a protein bar he definitely didn’t pay for.

You tilt your head slightly toward the table. “It wasn’t Jason.”

Bucky’s eyes track the direction of your stare.

"Having a shovel doesn't mean it was them."

"you see anyone else here with shovels? Look at them. They're mocking us by displaying it out in the open right now."

"Sure. Whatever you say, sweetheart." He yawns, before he stops midway.

You, however, don't seem to notice the sleep-ridden comment that slipped out from him, for which he is grateful. He also decides that he and delirious self is too dangerous to be around you now.

“Do we kill them?” you ask.

"Bit much.”

You huff. “Sabotage them?”

Bucky nods.

You cross your arms, watching them laugh, completely unbothered, completely unaware that they’ve just become your worst enemies.

You plaster on a smile.

“Alright.” You turn to Bucky. “I got a plan. Let's go, partner.”

Bucky makes no effort to finish his protein bar faster, still fixated on where the fuck the term of endearment came from and why it slipped out instinctually.

Most of the teams are already mobilizing, gearing up for another thrilling day of hiking miles and miles through rough terrain in search of a cryptid that does not exist.

You’re currently devising the most elaborate sabotage plan imaginable.

You’re sitting on a tree stump near the cabin, arms crossed, staring daggers at the flannel trio.

Bucky, meanwhile, is standing beside you, now with a paper coffee cup he's attained from somewhere. The coffee is shit. It does not help.

After you spend 10 minutes explaining the most elaborate set of diagrams and graphs, you tilt your head toward him.

“So that's the plan.”

“Right,” he says, with all the confidence for someone who has no idea what you've been talking about.

“So how do you wanna do this?”

Bucky grunts. “Do what.”

You gesture vaguely toward the trio. “Ruining their lives.”

Bucky sips his coffee. “I’m going take a nap.”

You blink. “They ruined our first night!”

“I think they did us a favor.”

Your jaw drops.

Bucky doesn’t even react.

Just downs the last of his coffee, tosses the mug onto the cabin’s front step, and turns toward the door.

You watch him go, completely baffled. “It’s broad daylight!”

Bucky waves a hand lazily. “Give me like two hours. I'll help with whatever once I'm up.”

You watch as he steps inside, not even bothering to close the door properly.

Bucky hopes the couch swallows him whole.

Sweetheart.

Jesus Christ.

______

The day drags on, teams disappearing into the forest, hiking miles into nothingness in search of a creature that absolutely does not exist.

At some point, the sun dips low, the sky turning a hazy orange.

Bucky wakes up slowly, the kind of waking that comes with a vague sense of disorientation, the heavy quiet of the cabin settling thick around him.

His brain catches up in pieces.

The weight of the blanket over him, which he definitely didn’t get for himself.

The smell of coffee sitting on the table nearby.

The lantern glow, still softly flickering, meaning someone had kept it on.

He watches it for a second, expression unreadable.

He pushes up with a groan, stretching his arms overhead, rolling his neck to get rid of the stiffness.

And then he notices.

You’re not here.

Your notebook is still open on the table, full of chaotic, barely legible scribbling. A pen tossed carelessly on top.

Bucky exhales deeply, rubbing his hand over his jaw, waking up properly now.

Just sits there for a moment, drinking the coffee you left for him, letting his mind catch up.

Because, realistically you’re fine.

You’re probably running whatever dumbass sabotage plan you spent all day coming up with.

…But.

Bucky sighs, pushing himself fully upright.

Because he should check anyway.

Because it’s late.

Bucky sets the mug down, running a hand over his face.

Then, with a deep breath, a stretch, and the slow realization that he is awake now and might as well do something about it—

He grabs his jacket, pulls on his boots, and heads outside.

Bucky steps off the porch, rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms, shaking the last bit of sleep off.

The air is cold and crisp, the night quiet in a way that doesn’t quite sit right.

It’s fine.

He’s just gonna find you, help you finish whatever stupid idea you'd schemed up, and then leave.

So he steps toward the trees.

And then–

The ground fucking disappears.

One second he’s walking, fully in control of his life.

The next, he’s airborne.

There’s a brief moment of pure, existential realization.

Suddenly, he is fully submerged.

In cold, thick, swampy-ass water.

Bucky does not move for a second.

Just lets the absolute, soul-deep exhaustion settle into his bones.

"Fucking fine."

It’s dark as shit, his flashlight is gone, and the air smells absolutely rancid.

Something slithers nearby, slow and slick, like something large shifting just beneath the surface.

Bucky tilts his head back, and shuts his eyes. Because of course.

Of course, this is happening.

Of course, he has fallen through something stupid and landed in something worse.

Of course, the literal universe itself has decided that he, a former assassin, a man who has survived war, torture, cosmic-level threats, should now be stuck in some godforsaken backwoods swamp.

He drags himself toward solid land, every step sucking in the mud, his metal hand slipping against the slick earth.

He grunts, pulls, mutters a long string of curses in Russian, and finally hauls himself up onto the dirt, flopping onto his back for just a second, staring at the sky in pure, exhausted disbelief.

He is so fucking done.

He does not investigate.

He does not waste a single second thinking about who might have set this up or why.

He does not care.

What he does care about is getting this shit off of him.

So he hauls himself to his feet, shakes off as much filth as possible, and marches toward the fucking outhouse.

This is a tomorrow problem.

This is actually a never problem because he will close his eyes, go back to sleep, and this will have never fucking happened.

_____

Bucky wakes up slower than usual.

His body aches in a way that suggests something terrible happened last night, which considering that was truly one with mother earth the previous night -- seems about right.

He shifts slightly, blinking blearily at the dim light filtering through the window.

You’re not here.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe you’re asleep somewhere.

Maybe you’re still out enacting whatever plan you spent all night putting together.

Maybe he should just go back to sleep.

And honestly, he almost does.

Right up until he hears the distant sound of a megaphone crackling to life.

He groans, dragging a hand down his face.

Right.

The results.

Bucky does not care.

He already knows how this goes.

Jason’s team was way too serious, had way too much expensive gear, probably faked some great “evidence” and would be lording their victory over everyone else for the rest of the day.

Which meant if he stayed inside, he wouldn’t have to witness it.

Which meant if he stayed inside, it wasn’t his problem.

Which meant—

Another muffled announcement crackles out, the sound of cheering picking up outside.

Bucky exhales sharply, shoving himself upright.

Fine.

By the time Bucky gets there, the entire camp is already gathered.

Some teams look hopeful, some look indifferent, and some already look like they’re preparing to deliver a victory speech.

You are standing front and center, arms crossed, a distinct glimmer in your eyes.

Bucky slows his pace, scanning the situation, suspicion already curling in his chest.

You look far too relaxed.

Bucky narrows his eyes.

The head organizer steps up to the front of the group, clearing his throat, holding a clipboard.

“Alright, folks,” he calls, voice carrying easily over the restless crowd. “After reviewing all the evidence from the last two nights-”

Bucky tunes most of it out.

Jason’s team had the money, the experience, the fake confidence that made up for their lack of real skill.

And you– well.

You had plans.

But those never worked.

“--so, after careful consideration, this year’s winners are…”

A pause.

Bucky doesn’t even brace for it.

But then the announcer shouts your name.

And his.

Bucky blinks.

The camp erupts.

Someone shouts. Someone cheers. Someone yells ‘What the fuck?!’ loud enough to make birds scatter.

Bucky does not react.

Because his brain is not computing this information.

Then, very slowly, very carefully, he turns to look at you.

And that’s when it hits him.

You’re not surprised.

You knew.

You knew before they said it.

Oh.

Oh, no.

And then you whirl around, absolutely beaming, throwing your arms up.

“We fucking won, baby!”

Bucky does not blink.

He does not react.

Because he is too busy trying to figure out how exactly this happened.

Jason, however, is reacting for both of them.

“That’s bullshit!” Jason yells, shoving forward, gesturing wildly. “We had the best evidence! We had thermal imaging! We had–”

The organizer raises a hand. “The judges took into account clarity, legitimacy, and most of all–”

He gestures broadly. “Entertainment value.”

Jason splutters. “You’re saying they won because it was funny?!”

Bucky’s eye twitches.

Oh, you look way too smug right now.

Jason is still yelling about credibility and journalistic integrity, but Bucky is no longer listening.

He just stares at you.

For a long time.

Long enough for Jason’s yelling to start fading into background noise.

You are grinning like an idiot.

Against his better judgment, against every single instinct in his body telling him to turn around and go–

“…How,” he asks, voice even, slow, “did we win?”

You beam.

_____

The screen flickers, adjusting to low-light, night-vision mode.

The forest appears, eerily still.

Then a loud crash.

A thud.

The camera shakes slightly as the sound of splashing, struggling, muffled cursing filters through the speakers.

And then something emerges from the darkness.

Something large. Moving, dripping with swamp water, stumbling onto solid ground, slow and unsteady, illuminated in the grainy green light.

Bucky leans forward slightly, eyes narrowing.

The figure in the video shakes itself off, turns toward the camera, posture stiff, silhouette looming.

A perfect, pristine, unmistakable image of

Him.

Bucky stares.

Just watches himself hoodie-clad and soaked, disoriented, looking every bit like a goddamn swamp monster crawl out of the hole in full, crystal-clear night-vision.

The Bucky on screen glances up toward the camera, features still in shadow.

“Oh my god. I’m actually recording right now," you whisper excitedly in the background.

Bucky, very slowly, very carefully says, “That’s me.”

You shake your head immediately.

“No,” you say. “I just saw Bigfoot. And I recorded.”

Bucky’s brain stops working.

“Did you fucking dig that pit?”

You raise a hand, defensive. “That was for Bigfoot.”

You pause.

“…Or the other team. Whoever fell in first.”

Bucky stares at the ceiling. “And you submitted this.”

“Correct.”

“And this won.”

“Oh yeah. They loved it.”

Bucky leans back against the couch, glass eyed.

He does not respond.

______

The car rumbles along the road, the last of the wilderness fading into the distance, replaced by stretching highways and the creeping return of civilization.

Bucky is driving, one hand loosely on the wheel, the other resting against his thigh.

You’re leaning against the window, legs folded up on the seat, a half-empty gas station cup in your hands.

And a gold bust in the backseat of the car with a seatbelt on.

Neither of you have spoken since you shoved your bags in the trunk and peeled out of camp before Jason could start asking questions.

“I still don’t know how you set that up.*

You don’t even pretend to play dumb. “The pit?”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.”

“Well,” you say, “I had time.”

Bucky snorts.

A small silence follows.

“I fell into a fucking swamp," he says.

“I know.”

“I was in there for a full minute.”

“I know.”

The radio hums softly, a song playing too low to make out.

"I think we did very well. We have a real career in bigfoot hunting if we wanted."

"I'm good, thanks."

Outside, the highway stretches ahead, endless and open.

You shift slightly, getting more comfortable.

“You ever think about what you’d do if you weren’t doing this?”

Bucky glances at you.

You’re still staring out the window, watching the world blur past.

He turns back to the road, humming low in his throat. “Sometimes.”

You tilt your head, watching him now.

“And?”

Bucky exhales through his nose.

Then shrugs, like he hasn’t thought about it much, like he’s thought about it too much.

“I don’t know.”

You nod, thoughtful.

A beat goes by before you ask–

“You ever think about opening a winery?”

Bucky groans.

You laugh.

And just like that, the drive continues.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to those who comment and tell me what u think– i love u. ur the sole reason i haven’t abandoned this lil fic. thank u for everything mwah <333333

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almostempty · 4 months ago

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right kind of dream (joel miller x f!reader) part two

wc: 9k | other fics | rating: 18+ | read on ao3 | PART ONE HERE summary: part two of 'right kind of dream': rebuilding your life, chasing, cans, and hitchin' a ride to the rodeo with team roper joel

a/n: i battled five million error messages to deliver this bad boy so if something is weird or it seems like paragraphs are missing... they might be. i think some formatting got lost. i'll put the whole thing on ao3 asap. i am unsure what i've done to anger the tumblr hq but i apologize

@katiexpunk : here is part two, thank you for being patient, i hope the wait was worth it <3 tags: modern cowboy joel au/ team roper joel and tommy, no sarah, enemies to lovers, dbf lite, choose your own age gap, small town romance, city girl returns to the country, miscommunication, horsegirl!joel, smut, ridin' that cowboy bareback as the good lord intended, no beta-mistakes are my fault for writing at 4am and for spending the afternoon fighting god to get this website to accept me thanks to: @syd-djarin, @auteurdelabre, and @lovely-vamp-princess for support, eyes, and ideas, etc.

Joel wakes you up while it’s still dark, pulling your shirt over your head and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sleep,” he mutters in a gravelly whisper.

The ache in your body is a stark reminder of everything Joel did to you. Every movement as you roll over sends a sharp jolt through your muscles, and the hollow soreness deep inside you leaves you raw.

For a moment, you lie still, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment—the way he touched you, the way he looked at you. You can still feel him, the shape he carved out inside of you.

He said nothing. He didn’t gloat, didn’t tease, didn’t even try to explain. The silence felt heavier than any of his words ever could.

You can hear him outside, feeding the horses. You give in, curling up under the blanket for another hour until you figure you might miss your chance for fresh coffee from the visitor tent.

You pull on clothes, feeling hungover with anxiety twisting in your gut. Your head spins and your chest feels tight, but you march toward the picnic tables and get yourself coffee and breakfast.

You aren’t sure what the fuck you’re supposed to do now. You sit at a table, a cup of coffee cradled in your hands, your head pounding as though you’d downed a bottle of whiskey the night before. The anxiety sits heavy in your chest, each sip of coffee doing little to loosen its grip.

You thought you understood what last night was—anger, frustration, both of you taking it out on each other. But the way Joel touched you, the way he kissed you, the way he stayed silent afterward… none of it fits the narrative you’ve been telling yourself.

You glance across the grounds, your eyes catching on Joel’s familiar silhouette near the fence. He’s leaning against the rail, his dark eyes scanning the crowd, but the moment his gaze lands on you, something shifts.

Your breath catches, the air between you thick and suffocating even from across the distance. Joel tips his head slightly, a subtle acknowledgment, but it only tightens the knot in your chest.

You tear your eyes away, focusing on the coffee in your hands, but the weight of his gaze lingers, pressing into you like a brand.

You keep your distance, avoiding Joel as you move through the motions of the morning ignoring the questions and confusion gnawing at you.

The sun climbs higher, the dry heat pressing down like a heavy blanket, but the rodeo grounds are alive with movement. Dust clings to the back of your throat, blending with the faint, bitter taste of coffee as you linger near the edge of the action, pretending to watch.

You’re halfway to convincing yourself Joel’s not even here when you hear Tommy’s voice. He’s leaning on the fence, one boot propped on the bottom rail, his arm resting loosely on the top. A beautiful woman stands beside him, gorgeous with bold makeup and tight jeans, her dark hair catching the light. She laughs at something Tommy says, swatting at his chest, and he grins down at her like she’s the only person in the world.

You almost keep walking, but Tommy glances up and catches your eye, his grin widening as he waves you over. He calls your name in an easy, smooth tone.

“Morning,” you say stiffly, stopping a few paces away.

The woman glances between you and Tommy, murmuring something to him before she wanders off toward the trailers. Tommy doesn’t miss a beat, tipping his hat to you with that same infuriating grin.

“You sleep alright?”

“What?” you gape at him before rushing to fix your face.

“Joel’s snoring didn’t keep you up all night?”

“Oh.” You shake your head. “No, slept fine. Thanks.”

He gives you another smile, and you move to lean on the fence watching the arena with him. He cocks his head, his eyes still on you.

“You worried about runnin’ Blue?” His voice is warm and light. His dark eyes sparkle with his natural charm, but it’s a genuine question.

You peel the edge of the paper coffee cup, looking past Tommy toward the warmup pen. “Yeah, I guess.” You give him a half smile. “We aren’t gunning for the NFR or anything, though.”

“Somethin’ else weighing on you, darlin’?”

You shake your head. Not willing to reveal anything else. “Heard you were up late partying with the roughstock boys and their fan club,” you accuse in a joking tone, attempting to redirect the conversation. “You aren’t worried about your own round?”

He laughs deeply at that. “Nah, that’s what a heeler’s for,” he says. “I just gotta be in the box on time. Joel’s the one that keeps us winnin’.”

“He’s not a partier?” You didn’t mean to dig, but the question slipped out anyway.

Tommy turns his head towards you, but you keep staring out at the arena, watching the crew setting up the barrels for the first division.

He studies you for a long moment, his grin softening into something closer to curiosity. “Joel’s not like me. Not really.” Your brow furrows. The words twist in your chest, setting your thoughts spinning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Tommy chuckles again, but there’s something unreadable in his eyes. “Let’s just say, Joel’s always had his head screwed on tighter than mine. Even when he didn’t.” You stare at him, trying to unravel the meaning behind his words, but Tommy just grins. “Joel’s a loyal kinda guy, y’know? Don’t mean he’s blind, though.” He gives you a wink and you feel heat flooding your face. “Just means he wrestles with it longer than the rest of us would.” You scowl at him for that. “And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” Did Joel tell him? Does he know what happened? He shrugs. “Just means you’re a hell of a distraction,” Tommy says, tipping his hat. You laugh it off, but his words linger, your mind racing with questions you’re not ready to ask. You whip your head away again as if staring at the tractor raking the arena can save you from the conversation. But Tommy notices.

He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease or prod, but you can feel the weight of his gaze as you swallow hard, your thoughts spiraling. Before you can respond, someone calls his name from across the grounds. Tommy tips his hat one last time. “Good luck out there, neighbor,” he says, his voice light but laced with something heavier. “Don’t let that head of yours get in the way.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you standing alone, your thoughts spinning, your chest burning. You push off the fence and find yourself a spot on the bleachers. They’re dusty and worn. The boards creak as you settle into a spot near the edge. You watch the first few runs.

The riders move with precision, their horses cut through the dirt with sharp, clean turns. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, calling names and times, but it fades into the background as you watch.

Everywhere you look, there’s something that reminds you of Joel.

The set of someone’s shoulders as they lean against the fence, the low timbre of a voice nearby, a black felt hat in the corner of your eye. You try to banish the worry and the panic creeping in.

You remember the way he watched you train with Blue. The way he offered advice that sounded more like a challenge. The way his voice cut through the air like he knew more than you. The way he looked at you last night. The raw unguarded expression you’ve never seen before.

You hate the way he makes you feel small and uncertain. You hate the way you can’t stop thinking about him.

You can’t stop remembering the way his hands felt on your skin or his tongue. The heat in his voice and the way he saw through every lie you told.

The sound of someone hitting the dirt makes you snap your head up just as the crowd around you gasps.

In the arena, a horse stands, saddle hanging nearly sideways off of it. A rider scrambles to their feet, brushing dirt from their jeans with a wave. They lead their horse out of the arena and you can hear folks around you murmuring that their latigo broke and their saddle slipped as they turned for home. The horse and the rider are both fine, but your nerves flare.

You know the risks of the sport. But it makes you head back to the trailer early to inspect all of your tack closely for anything faulty. From across the grounds, Joel watches you. He stands near the holding pen, arms crossed over his chest. You haven’t seen him yet. Not really. Not in the way he sees you.

He can feel the tension in your shoulders as you walk, the way you crush the paper coffee cup in your hand.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t call out to you.

He doesn’t trust himself to. He shouldn’t have touched you last night. Shouldn’t have let his jealousy boil over. Shouldn’t have taken it that far. But now, standing here, all he could think about was the way you felt underneath him. The way you said his name like he was the only thing holding you together. And the way he needs to hear it again.

By the time your division gets called to warm up, you’ve eased your worries about your tack but you’re still swimming in Joel thoughts until you swing your leg over the saddle and settle on Blue’s back.

Then the rest of the world disappears. Your ride starts off smooth, but Blue’s sensitivity is a curse and a blessing. You figure he must be picking up on some anxiety as he gets a little hot, tossing his head and pulling on the reins when you try to bring him down to a jog.

You work out most of the kinks, circling and working on transitions until he feels supple and responsive to your seat and legs. Your nerves and the energy of the other horses still have his ears swiveling and his head perked up as you wait for the rider ahead of you to be called.

You can see most of their run, it’s smooth and they put up a good time. You squeeze your calves asking Blue to head toward the alleyway, but he’s springloaded.

You hold him back as he crow hops sideways for a beat before you’re backing him up. You try making a slow circle before heading in but he’s still jigging with short, bouncy steps like he’s ready to explode.

You’re tense, holding him back and trying to stay calm, making one more circle when he starts hopping again. You can feel eyes on you from the people standing near the gate. Before you can make another circle Joel is striding towards you with swift long steps.

He grabs Blue by the bridle, speaking directly to him in a calming, low voice. You glare at him reactively, but the words die before you can formulate them.

Blue’s jittering slows and Joel leads you up the alley toward the arena. His steps are sure and confident as he guides you. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to snap at him and tell him you don’t need his help. The truth is you do.

“Go get ‘em,” he says quietly, turning to you.

You gather your reins, giving him a tight nod to signal you’re ready. He lets go and steps back. Your heart pounds as you encourage Blue to push off into a lope.

The moment you cross the starting line, everything else fades.

The noise. The nerves. Even Joel. It all melts away. Just you and Blue and the rhythm of his hooves pounding against the soft dirt.

The first barrel comes fast. You guide him into a tight turn, pushing him to pick it up toward the next. His lead change is smooth as you shift your weight, leaning into the next tight turn. You’ve got your body facing the final barrel before Blue pushes off with his powerful hind legs.

You thunder toward the last barrel. His strides are strong and controlled. You’ve just gotta make this last turn without taking it too wide or knocking the barrel over.

Blue doesn’t forget his training, bending around your leg, picking up his shoulder, and you’ve got one stride left in the turn before you’re free to haul ass home.

You’ve got this.

You don’t got this.

The footing is deeper than the arena you run at on Thursday nights. Blue’s hooves slide in the loose dirt. His balance faltering. Time slows and you feel his weight tipping. There’s nothing to do but brace for the impact. His body hits the dirt in a controlled, almost graceful fall.

You hit the ground with a dull thud, the breath knocked out of you as you scramble back giving Blue room to pop back up. He shakes off the dirt, your stirrups slapping at his side and the reins nearly coming over his ears. His eyes are wide, but he stands waiting for your direction.

You catch your breath, chest still heaving from the shock. You dust the dirt off your jeans and wave off the grounds person jogging toward you. “I’m fine,” you call. “We’re fine.” Your voice is steady, but your chest feels like it’s caving in.

You pull his reins over his head and walk toward the end of the arena, keeping your head up and patting Blue on the neck. The crowd claps expressing support and relief that you’re both walking.

Hot, angry tears blur your vision by the time you get to the alley.

You don’t see Joel, staring at the ground as you walk, but you hear him hustling toward you calling your name. His boots crunch against the dirt as he matches your pace.

“You okay?” he asks, low and concerned.”

“Fine,” you snap, not looking at him as you speed up, pulling Blue along faster.

“It was a good-looking run you had going,” Joel says, his tone soft. “You two looked great, making good time. You can’t help the shitty footing—”

“I don’t need your pity,” you cut him off, sharp but trembling. “Not now.”

You don’t see the way his face tightens. The anger is spilling out, uncontrollable, and you don’t care if it cuts.

“I’d rather the ‘I told you so,’” you spit, hot and bitter. “Just say it. Whatever it is. You think I’m too young to know what I’m doing? Too soft? You think I’m a failure? Couldn’t handle the city, the job, the—”

“Hey, easy.” He tries to interrupt you gently, like a spooked horse. “Nothing like that.”

“You think I’m dumb, too?” You keep jabbing him with questions as you get closer to the trailer, not caring if anyone else hears. “Just another woman that fell into your bed at another rodeo.”

“Enough,” Joel says steady and low, but you don’t hear him.

“Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors,” you snap, your voice cracking. “Didn’t think they were true, to be honest. Didn’t seem like you. Guess I don’t really know you though, do I?”

Joel’s jaw tightens, his dark eyes flashing with hurt, but you’re too far gone to notice.

“You know, maybe I was stupid.” Your voice shakes as tie Blue at the trailer to untack. “But for a while, I thought I was finally starting to feel like myself out here. Like I was where I was supposed to be. And now—” Your words catch in your throat. Tears streaming down your face. You shake your head, stopping yourself from revealing anything else. You turn away from Joel and start running your hands along Blue’s legs to check for any swelling from the fall.

Joel doesn’t move for a long beat. He stands rigid, watching you wrestle with your emotions as you work. Finally, Joel exhales sharply, running a hand over his face. His voice is tight when he speaks. “I’ll leave you be.”

He walks away before you can respond, his footsteps heavy against the dirt. Your shoulders sag as the adrenaline starts to wear off, leaving behind the hollow ache of exhaustion. Your hands tremble as you finish untacking and brushing Blue, but you keep moving, your touch soft against his sweat-damp coat. “You did nothing wrong,” you murmur.

Fresh tears pool in your eyes. “You’re a good boy, Blue. You did exactly what we practiced.” Blue snorts softly, his ears flicking back toward you, and you lean into him, pressing your forehead against the warm curve of his neck. “I was the one who fucked up,” you admit, your words muffled against his dark coat. The truth spills out in quiet, broken pieces.

“I should’ve been watching the other riders closer this morning. Should’ve caught how deep the footing was at the far barrel.”

Your voice drops to a whisper. “Instead of thinking about how I could still feel his hands on me. Or wondering if he’s thinking about me.”

The confession hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken. Blue shifts beneath you, his weight leaning into your side like he knows you need the grounding.

You pull back, wiping at your face quickly before running your hands over Blue one more time, checking for any swelling or signs of injury. You move methodically, your touch steady despite the way your chest feels like it’s caving in.

When you’re satisfied he’s unhurt, you lead him into the pen and give him a scratch behind the ears. “You’re a good boy,” you whisper again, softly. “We’ll get it next time.”

The afternoon stretched on at the rodeo, the sun climbing high and unrelenting.

You do your best to avoid the temptation to look for Joel, though he somehow has a way of being everywhere and nowhere all at once. Mostly it was false alarms and your eyes playing tricks on you. But once or twice you saw him watching other events. He never seemed to notice you, or if he did he gave no indication.

You hadn’t decided if you were avoiding him out of anger, shame, or if it was because the thought of being near him again after last night still made your chest ache in a way you didn’t want to examine. You’re still burying that last thought somewhere deep when you catch the flash of Joel’s red mare striding through the arena.

You can see Joel and Tommy putting their horses through some practice just past the main arena.

Your lips press together into a thin line as you watch them. Joel has a different aura about him when he’s in the saddle. He seems lighter somehow. Relaxed, but with a quiet command. He guides his horse in a way that looks effortless. His body moving in perfect harmony with hers. Tommy’s horse was a little snappier, making quick sharp turns. The pair of riders worked together naturally, movements fluid and precise as they get their practice in.

It was mesmerizing. Infuriatingly so.

You leaned back, trying to tear your gaze away, but your eyes betrayed you, drawn back to continue admiring him. The longer you watch the more it stirs up something unwelcome in your chest. You can’t keep letting him occupy so much space in your mind or your memories.

He’s proven time and again that he doesn’t respect you. He didn’t even argue when you laid it all out in your outburst after your run. He just walked away from you.

But there’s something in the way he carries himself. Something in the way he rides, the way he works with his horse, that hints at something different than what you know. Something that makes you curious.

You blink, realizing Joel’s head was turned toward the bleachers. For a second you think his eyes are on you and you quickly look away. When you glance back he’s already turned his attention back to something else.

Embarrassment wraps around your throat. This is why you had to avoid him. His presence alone seems to demand every ounce of your attention without even trying.

Before you can drown in your own emotional turmoil, an unfamiliar voice calls your name.

You see Cody waving a few rows down and give him a polite smile before agreeing to join him and his friends. Spending the rest of the evening with them feels like a safety buffer.

You don’t see Joel or Tommy when you get dinner. You watch some of the evening events before splitting from the group to check on Blue.

It’s nearly dark as you walk through the grounds. Your chest feels tighter with every step you take as you approach.

You’re hoping you don’t run into Joel—or Tommy and his knowing eyes. You let yourself into the pen, the noise from the announcer and the crowd are muffled by the distance.

There was a stillness in the dusk and the horses were calm.

Blue’s head swivels toward you as you approach. You pause to untie the braid in his tail before stepping between him and Joel’s horse. It’s not until that moment that you realize you aren’t alone. You freeze when your eyes land on Joel. He’s standing between his horse and yours, posture relaxed. The external light on the horse trailer casts shadows over his face making it hard to read his eyes.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” you say softly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

He responds with a small shrug and shake of his head. “Nothing to interrupt.”

You still feel frozen, like concrete had been poured around your feet. You’ve been carrying the weight of your earlier outburst in your shoulders, and the rest of your muscles are still stiff from hitting the dirt earlier. Maybe that’s why your defenses feel lower, or maybe something else has shifted, but the next words come out before you have a real plan.

“Look, about earlier,” you start with more confidence than you feel. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It wasn’t fair.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, gaze fixed on Blue who huffs a warm breath out after nudging Joel’s pocket in search of a treat. When he finally speaks, it’s quiet but firm.

“You had every right to be upset.”

You frown at that, a line pulling between your brows in confusion, and you shake your head. “No, I didn’t. I was angry, frustrated with myself, and I took it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

He works his jaw like he’s mulling something over, before letting out a sigh. You move closer to give Blue a scratch under his jaw. The spot that always makes him wiggle his lip. You see Joel’s expression softening.

“I’ve been where you are,” he says finally. “Trying to rebuild somethin’ when it feels like the world’s stacked against you. Trying to remember who you are. What matters most.”

You tilt your head, curiosity pulling at you. His words sound familiar for a moment. That conversation you’d had after stacking hay. “When you bought the property from my dad?”

He nods. “Bought the place after my ex split. Had to sell the business. Start over. Build somethin’ from scratch while trying to figure out what the hell my life was supposed to look like.”

“It’s not as simple as it sounds,” you echo your past statement. He laughs a short, humorless sound.

“Sure ain’t. I know I made mistakes along the way.”

You stay quiet, letting the words hang in the air.

“It’s easy to get yourself a reputation in a small town,” he continues, tinged with regret. “I spent a while chasing somethin’ I couldn’t even name. Thought I could skip the pain with sex, drinking, and spending every weekend hauling to any rodeo I could afford the entrance fees for.”

His confession sinks over you, and you feel a pang of understanding.

“Took a while to figure it that it wasn’t working. Wasn’t who I was… or who I wanted to be.”

“I get that,” you say softly. You drop your gaze, not quite sure how to say it. “Not the same circumstances, but,” you take a slow breath, “I had a reputation back at my old job. It wasn’t true but it didn’t matter. Once people decide who you are, it’s like there’s nothing you can do to change it.

You feel his eyes on you. “That why you came out here?”

“Sort of.” You run your hand under Blue’s mane, feeling the warmth of his body grounding you.

“Hated the job. Spent a lot of time and money in school to get there, and I dreaded going to the office every day.” You swallow thickly, still not sure you can look Joel in the eye.

“Then my engagement fell apart. The more we tried to split up our lives the more I realized none of it was my life. None of it was me. I didn’t know myself anymore. I didn’t know what mattered.”

“Takes guts to start over,” Joel says with a current of finality about it. Like it’s a fact. “Most people wouldn’t have the nerve.”

His words warm something deep inside of you, but they also make your eyes well up. You blink away the tears before you look to Joel’s face. His eyes are steady on yours. You offer a small smile.

“Feels less like guts and more like desperation most of the time.”

Joel looks sincere, firm. “Desperation’s just another word for fightin’ for what you need.”

A heavy lump in your throat makes it difficult to respond, but you push yourself to be vulnerable. “I came out here to figure myself out and to do it on my own. I wanted to prove it to myself. But, then today, I got so caught up in my own head that I almost got us both hurt.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” he says quietly.

“I should’ve been paying better attention. Should’ve asked the other riders about the footing. Or—” your voice cracks and you pause to slow down your spiraling thoughts.

Joel moves closer, his presence solid. Anchoring. “You’re hard on yourself,” he says it soft, but firm. “You’ve got grit. You work your ass off. That’s what matters.”

You look up at him. Feeling exposed, like you’re holding the ugliest parts of you in your palms for him to see. “You think so?”

“I know so. I see you. The way you handle Blue, the balance you strike with your dad, the way you work twice as hard as most folks at a part-time job and still have time to learn the names of every old farmer in 50 miles that comes in once a month.”

You laugh at that, feeling something warm blooming in your chest. His eyes soften, and you’re drawn to the lines on his face.

“I’ve seen the way you push yourself even when you’re tired, the way you’re determined to bring out the best in yourself and others. Even those of us with a history.” He runs his hand along the scar tissue on Blue’s shoulder. The horse that broke a girl’s jaw.

“You’re tougher than most people I know. And contrary to what you think, I respect the hell outta you for it.”

His words hit harder than you expect, and you feel like your ribs have been pulled open, exposing your heart and soul in the moonlight.

You’ve spent so long chasing your own impossible standards.

Fighting for your dad’s stoic approval. Suffocating under the weight of other people’s judgment.

Hearing Joel’s praise feels like a warm blanket wrapping around your shoulders.

“Joel,” you start, but your voice falters. The way he’s looking at you feels intense. Almost too much. You can feel your heart beating against your chest.

He shifts, his hand brushing yours lightly, and the air between you feels thick. “Took me a long time to learn how to ask for help or accept it. Still ain’t perfect at it neither,” it comes out like a confession. “But there’s nothing weak about it. And there’s nothin’ more attractive than a woman who’s not afraid to try, fail, and try again.”

The slip in his voice–the raw, unguarded admiration–sends a flush of heat through you. Shit. The praise was already overwhelming, but the way he’s looking at you now—it’s too much. Or not enough.

His centering presence somehow has you rocked off balance.

Suddenly you’re closer, the space between you charged. Humming like one of the generators at the other campsites.

His hand brushes your cheek, gentle but deliberate. Your breath catches in your throat. Everything that has been simmering between you feels like it’s about to boil over.

The rest of the rodeo disappears. Standing there in the moonlight, the world around you dissolves into quiet, only his gravity pulling you closer.

Joel’s hand lingers just long enough on your cheek to make heat crawl up your neck and coil in your belly. Before you can close the distance he pulls back, clearing his throat and stepping away. He moves slowly and deliberately, giving you space to retreat if you want to.

But you don’t.

Instead, you follow him out of the pen, your feet carrying you toward the trailer without thought.

The silence between you is loud, not uncomfortable but full of unspoken words and feelings, each step drawing you toward something you haven’t named yet. When he opens the door and gestures for you to step inside, the creak of the hinges feels impossibly loud.

Inside, the trailer is layered in soft shadows from the glow of a warm lamp. Joel closes the door behind you, and the quiet feels delicate. He stands a few paces away, his hat in hand, his eyes scanning your face as though searching for any sign of doubt.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice low and careful.

When you find your voice, it’s softer than you expected. “Yeah.”

The corners of his mouth lift just slightly, and the warmth in his eyes eases some of the nervous energy bouncing around in your chest. He hangs his hat on the hook near the door. The image of him reaching past you to hang it on the same hook last night flares in your mind and buzzes through your skin.

His movements are unhurried. He steps closer to you. He’s so large in the small space. Not intimidating, but stabilizing.

“Earlier,” he begins, “when I said I respect the hell outta you… I meant it.”

He takes your hand in his, his fingers warm and solid. Your senses are heightened from the emotionally raw conversation, from his touch, and the warm, spiced scent of him wrapping around you. “I see how hard you’ve worked, how much you’ve sacrificed to be here. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe.

“And you’ve got no idea how much I—”

He cuts himself off, searching your face. His breath is warm, so close to your face. His lips look soft, so close to yours.

You close the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s nothing like the night before. It’s tender. Slow. Sprawling. Unspoken affection passes between you with the slip of your tongues and the soft sounds in your throat.

Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, every thought and worry dissolving into the sensation of your lips on his. Softer than he ever let himself imagine, a sweetness he didn’t think he deserved. The warmth of you seeps into him, steadying him even as it sends electricity down his spine.

His hand settles on your waist, pulling you close as the kiss deepens. There’s no resistance. You’re pliable and willing. He moves with you naturally, like your mouths were always meant to find each other. He holds you like you’re a treasure, a prize, a wonder. Precious.

So soft, he thinks, his thumb grazing the curve of your waist. Every inch of you pressed against him feels like fire and solace all at once. His other hand roams over your back, the delicate shift of muscle beneath his palm grounding him in the reality that you’re here, with him.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer, but there’s no space left between you. His palm glides down your spine, lighting you from within. When you break apart, softly breathing in each other’s air, his forehead rests against yours, eyes dark and soft as they hold your gaze.

“You have no idea how much I crave this. Crave you. In every way.” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. The reverence in his tone makes your cheeks flush with warmth, and you can’t help but smile.

“I might have some idea,” you reply, your voice just as quiet, but your smile grows wider.

Then he kisses you again, this time with more urgency, his hands moving to your hips and guiding you toward the bed. His touch is everywhere, his lips tracing a path from your mouth to your jaw, down the curve of your neck, each kiss making you feel lighter and warmer.

He continues to pour his confessions into your skin between each article of clothing he pulls off of you. "I thought I’d never have this. Never have you. But here you are, and you’re perfect." The words spill out of him unbidden, each one carrying a weight he’s carried for far too long. His hands tremble slightly as he leaves a wet trail of kisses down your clavicle, between the swell of your breasts, over the smooth fabric of your bra.

"I used to hate that I wanted you, that I thought about having you like this. But I don’t want to stop, sweetheart.” He unclasps your bra and slips the straps over your shoulders, replacing the cups with his palms, kneading your plush flesh. The warmth of your skin beneath his hands sends sparks through him, and he leans in, brushing his lips over the sensitive peaks.

“Don’t want you to stop,” you murmur back. He hums in response to you, rolling your nipples between his fingers before taking his time mouthing, sucking, licking at each of them until you moan and arch toward him.

“I spent too many nights trying not to think about you,” he confesses, his voice dipping lower. “And cursing myself for it.” He shifts down, between your legs to pull your jeans off. It feels like he’s just handed you a piece of himself you didn’t expect to see. The idea of him, alone and thinking about you, shifts something in your mind. It’s not just desire he carries for you. Is it something deeper?

He runs his hands along your bare legs, warm against your smooth skin. He already looks wrecked and he’s still fully clothed. You reach for him, but he shakes his head, dipping to line another path of kisses down your belly, to the sensitive skin inside the top of your thighs. His lips press against your skin, reverent, as if trying to memorize the feel of you beneath him.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough with need. His admiration and desire are intense, making you feel stripped bare in an emotional way. He’s not just saying it; he means it in a way that feels different from casual compliments.

Everything you use to protect yourself falls away as you let his words soak in. You couldn’t hide from him if you wanted to. He’s not just taking—he’s giving, pouring every ounce of admiration and desire he feels for you into each moment. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself take it in, let yourself believe it.

The heat of his touch and the need in his eyes have your core aching for attention. His breath ghosting over your swollen cunt makes you shudder with need.

When his lips press against the thin fabric still covering you, you arch into him. You feel him smile against you, breathing deeply before he slides his hands beneath your thighs, cupping your ass to tilt your hips before he descends again.

He kisses and sucks at your clit through your soaked panties without a care for the lewd sounds filling the small room. He doesn’t stop. It’s warm and wet, and the pressure makes you feel needy. You roll your hips seeking more contact, and he moans against you, the sound vibrating through you causing you to gasp and call out his name.

He looks up at you before pulling your underwear off and pausing to stare at your glistening cunt, before taking all of you in. His eyes dart to your face, all of your exposed skin, and back to your eyes.

“I never thought I’d actually get to touch you. To kiss you. Taste you like this.” His voice is hoarse, barely audible over the sound of your breath.

“Please, Joel.” He’s like a dream between your legs. His mouth, his tongue, his hands, his fingers. He uses everything with expert precision, bringing you closer and closer and erasing every worry, every stress.

You wonder if you should feel more vulnerable being naked beneath him while he’s still fully clothed. But instead, it feels empowering—like this moment belongs to you just as much as it does to him; like every touch and kiss is a promise steeped in devotion.

His hips press into the mattress involuntarily, seeking relief for his throbbing cock as he continues to worship you with his mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair as he dips his tongue inside of you. “Oh, fuck.” Your voice is hoarse and ragged already.

He knows exactly what you need next. Filling you with his fingers while he wraps his lips over your clit. The wet noises of his fingers pumping into you are obscene-–but they're nothing compared to the moan you make when you see the way his hips are desperately rutting into the mattress between your legs.

The sight of him losing control, his own need so evident and unrestrained, sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He’s giving so much of himself to you with every movement. It’s not just his mouth or his hands—it’s the way he wants you, completely and utterly, like he’s been holding it back for ages.

It tips you over the edge, chanting his name like a prayer as your release crashes through you. Your walls contract around his fingers and your muscles tense as he groans into your wet flesh before pulling back.

“That’s it,” he murmurs from between your legs, “you did good for me, baby. You’re so good for me.”

You’re boneless as the words melt into you. But you know you wanted to say something before he made your vision blur.

Your breath comes in slow, uneven waves as you blink at the ceiling, reality slowly settling back into your body. He’s watching you, his eyes dark and heavy with affection and need, and you realize the thought that had slipped away moments ago was this: you need to feel him, to see him.

“Joel,” you manage, your voice low and hoarse, your fingers brushing weakly at his forearm. He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smirk touching his lips as he leans closer.

“What is it, baby?”

You swallow hard, the words tangled in your throat as you try to gather your strength. “Off,” you rasp, fingers tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as he leans down to kiss your temple. “Gimme a minute, sweetheart. Let me make sure you’re all right first.”

Your head shakes slightly, determination building even in your post-release haze. “Joel. Now.”

Something in your voice snaps the tension in him. His jaw tightens, his hands moving to the hem of his shirt in one smooth motion, tugging it over his head.

The sight of him leaves you breathless. Broad shoulders tapering to a firm waist, his skin golden and littered with scars and years of hard work. He looks wrecked, his chest rising and falling as though he’s been holding himself back for too long.

“Goddamn,” you whisper, as your mouth hangs open. Your gaze drops lower, taking in the soft lines of his abdomen, and the trail of dark hair leading to the waistband of his jeans.

And then, as he unbuttons them and pushes them down, his cock springs free, thick and flushed and so fucking perfect it sends a scalding wave of desire rolling through you.

Your expression fills Joel with pride. The hunger in your eyes makes his cock twitch, the intensity of your gaze threatening to knock him over right there.

You sit up slightly, your hand reaching for him, but he catches your wrist gently, shaking his head. “Not like that,” he murmurs, his voice rough as gravel. He eases you back onto the mattress, his hands warm and firm against your hips. “Not this time, baby.”

You whine softly, your need pulsing through every word. “Please, fuck, I need you.”

His pupils blow wide, his breathing uneven as he settles between your legs. “You need me?” he repeats, his tone darkening, the words laced with a feral edge that makes you dizzy.

“You’re gonna get me, baby. All of me. Gonna fill you so deep you’ll never forget it.”

The shift in his tone sends a fresh rush of slick between your thighs. His hand trails up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast as he watches you.

“Gonna make you mine. Gonna keep you so full of me you’ll feel it in you every time you move.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes your body burn, your hips rocking up toward him involuntarily. “Joel, please,” you beg, your voice raw and edged with frustration as he drags the blunt head of his cock through your slick folds, teasing you.

“Fuck,” he pauses after barely pushing into you. His eyes slam shut for a moment before he inches deeper into you, slower than you thought possible. “You take me like it’s what you’re meant for.” His eyes stay locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your face.

You gasp as he reaches the deepest part of you, his hips flush against yours, his cock filling you completely. “Look at you,” he coos. “Such a good girl for me.” The sensation is overwhelming, every nerve ending sparking to life as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust.

“Feel that?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s where I’m gonna stay, sweetheart. Right here, fillin’ you up.”

Your walls flutter around him, your body already begging for more. “Joel,” you whisper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Move. Please.”

He obliges, his hips pulling back before driving forward again, dragging out the intensity of every sensation. His forehead drops to yours, his breath hot against your lips as he whispers praise between each movement. “You’re so good for me, baby. So damn good.”

Your body writhes beneath him, the pleasure building with each heavy stroke. “More,” you whisper. “Please, Joel. I need more.”

The last of his restraint dissolves as he grips your hips and begins to move harder, faster, his cock hitting so deep you swear you can feel it everywhere. The pace steals the breath from your lungs, threatening to consume you.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough and unrestrained. “Take it. All of me.”

Your cries fill the air, his name falling from your lips over and over. His hands hold you steady, keeping you exactly where he wants you as he claims you.

“Look at you,” he rasps, his gaze locked on the spot where your bodies meet, where his cock disappears every time he sinks into you. “So perfect, takin’ me so well. Made for this. Made for me.”

You watch, as he instructed, until you look back up to his face. He’s so vocal, so confident with every word—but his face is equal parts hungry and wrecked. Fucked out. Drunk on you.

Again it’s the deep satisfaction you get from his unrestrained desire that makes you come with a blinding intensity. You try to tell him how close you are before you’re violently sucked into the sensations.

Your walls clench around him, making him shudder and groan. You try to beg him to come too. To fill you up. You’re unsure if the words make it past your thoughts, but he’s pulled into it with you either way.

Moments later, a deep groan vibrates through his chest as he tenses and his hips jerk against you. It feels like bliss, the sensation of his cock pulsing within you, the heat of his release coating your walls as they flutter around him.

The room falls into a warm quiet, the only sounds are your ragged breaths and the faint sounds of people laughing and shouting at another campsite, reminding you the rest of the world still exists.

Joel’s weight presses into you, grounding you in the present. He doesn’t pull away, softening inside of you as you breathe through the aftershocks of your orgasms.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Just stay with me.”

He shifts you both just enough to hold tight against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as his hand smooths down your side. “So good,” he murmurs, “so perfect,” voice rough but soft in a way that makes your chest ache.

The early morning sun stretches over the rodeo grounds, bathing everything in a wash of pink hues. You wake to the soft hum of voices outside the trailer and the thud of a bale of hay being dropped just outside the trailer.

Joel’s weight shifts beside you as he stirs, his arm tightening around your waist for a moment before he lets out a soft, sleepy grunt. The sound pulls a smile to your lips as you turn to face him. His eyes blink open slowly, still heavy with sleep, and he offers you a lazy smile that you mirror involuntarily.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly and low.

“Morning,” you whisper back, your fingers brushing over his stubbled jaw.

There’s a content silence between you before a loud knock rattles the trailer door, making you both jump. Tommy’s voice rings out cheerfully, "Y’all better get movin’ if you don’t wanna miss breakfast."

Joel groans, dropping his head back against the pillow with a dramatic sigh. "That boy’s got the worst damn timing."

You stifle a laugh, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before sliding out of bed to get dressed. Joel watches you for a moment, his gaze warm and unguarded, before he stretches and follows suit.

The three of you sit at a picnic table near the cook tent, balancing plates of eggs, bacon, and biscuits as the camp buzzes with early morning energy. Joel sits across from you, his knee brushing yours under the table. You catch him watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, his lips twitching into a barely concealed smile when your eyes meet.

Tommy, oblivious as ever, chatters on about their schedule and the competition, occasionally tossing in jokes that have you laughing despite yourself. Joel leans back in his seat, his body language is relaxed but his eyes are constantly flicking to you.

When Tommy excuses himself to check on their horses, Joel leans forward, his voice low and teasing. “You’re not real subtle, you know.”

You shoot him a mock glare, your cheeks warming. “Says the man who’s been staring at me all morning.”

“Can’t help it.” Joel shrugs.

Later, you find yourself perched on the edge of a fence near the arena, watching Joel and Tommy warm up their horses. Their movements are fluid and synchronized; you openly admire their skill.

Tommy tips his hat to you with a grin as they pass, and you wave back, your gaze inevitably drifting back to Joel. He glances your way, his dark eyes meeting yours briefly, and the corner of his mouth lifts in a small, private smile that makes your heart skip.

The arena is alive with energy as their division gets underway. You lean against the rail, your fingers gripping the cool metal as you watch Joel and Tommy back their horses into the box.

The chute gate flies open, the steer bolting into the arena with Joel and Tommy in swift pursuit. Joel’s rope swings in a perfect arc, catching the steer cleanly around the horns as Tommy moves in to secure the heels. The crowd cheers as they pull the steer to a stop, their time flashing on the scoreboard.

The announcer calls their time and updates the standings. Joel and Tommy have the best time in their division so far.

You can’t help but cheer, your voice lost in the noise of the crowd as Joel and Tommy ride back toward the holding pen, their smiles wide and triumphant. Joel catches your eye as he passes, tipping his hat to you with a grin that makes your stomach flutter.

When they dismount near the gate, you meet them with a smile. "You two make that look way too easy."

Tommy laughs. "He’s the header," he tilts his head toward Joel. “I can’t do shit if he misses.”

Joel shakes his head, deflecting the comment.

“It’s a team event,” you counter. “Both of you are good at what you do.”

“We should bring her with us more often,” Tommy jokes.

Joel gives you another warm look with unspoken words.

“Your head wouldn’t fit in your damn hat if you had someone talking you up after every run,” Joel mocks. As they both swing their legs over the back of their saddles. You turn to watch as they lead their horses back to the trailer. You want to follow and stay close to Joel for the rest of the day, but you stay put.

Trying not to let Tommy in on whatever’s happening between the two of you until you figure it out for yourself. Instead, you head back to the fence to watch the next pair of team ropers. You’d rather be near him, but staying put feels safer—for now.

The afternoon sun dips lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the rodeo grounds. You sit beside Joel on the bleachers, the two of you a quiet bubble of calm amid the hum of spectators around you. The events continue below—tie-down ropers hopping into the dirt, saddle bronc riders gripping for dear life trying to stick it out for eight seconds, bareback riders up next.

Joel leans back, one arm draped across the bench behind you, his body close enough that the heat of him radiates against your side. He’s quiet, but his presence feels steady and grounding. Every so often, his knee brushes yours, the brief contact enough to send a subtle thrill through you.

“You doin’ all right?” Joel asks, his voice low and soft. His gaze lingers on you, dark eyes warm but searching.

“Yeah,” you say with a small smile. “This is nice. I didn’t think I’d enjoy just sitting and watching this much.”

“It’s better when you’ve got good company,” he says, the corner of his mouth quirking into a half-smile.

Your cheeks warm, but you’re spared from responding by the announcer introducing the next rider. Joel shifts beside you, his attention briefly pulled to the arena. You let yourself steal a glance at him—the sharp line of his jaw and the quiet confidence in his posture. He catches you looking and tips his hat, the subtle smirk that follows sending warmth blooming in your chest.

As the next rider lines up, Joel pulls his hat off, setting it on your lap. You blink, startled, and look at him.

“Put it on,” he says simply, his tone casual, but there’s something in his eyes—a quiet intensity that makes your breath hitch.

You hesitate for only a moment before lifting the Stetson and settling it on your head. It’s big, a little too big, but it smells faintly of leather and him. Joel’s gaze lingers on you, his lips curving into a soft smile that feels like it’s meant just for you.

“Looks good on you,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

The weight of the gesture settles over you—the tradition, the meaning behind it. The thought that this wasn’t just a playful gesture but a quiet claim sends a flutter through your chest. You’re not sure what to say, so you lean into his side slightly, letting the moment and the warmth of him settle over you like a blanket.

Later, as the afternoon begins to mellow, Joel takes your hand and guides you to the cook tent for dinner. It feels almost natural to walk hand in hand, weaving through the crowd of people. The smell of barbecue wafts through the air, mingling with the sounds of quiet conversations and laughter from the other riders and their families.

Joel insists on getting your plate, waving you off with a playful, “Sit tight. I’ll take care of you.” You settle at a nearby table, watching as he weaves through the crowd with ease, stopping to exchange a word or two with acquaintances before returning with two heaping plates.

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm, sharing quiet conversation. Joel’s small acts of service don’t go unnoticed—handing you a napkin before you realize you need one, making sure your drink stays full, brushing crumbs off your sleeve with a casual intimacy that feels like it’s always been there.

For a moment, it’s easy to forget you’re at a rodeo. The noise and bustle fade into the background, leaving just the two of you in a comfortable bubble of companionship. Joel’s low chuckle as you tell him a story about your first job, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, the warmth in his voice when he says your name—it all feels so natural, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As the sun begins to dip lower, casting a golden glow across the grounds, Joel stands and offers you his hand. “Come on,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “Let’s find a good spot for the bull riders. We can cheer for your new friend.”

You expect to see something flare in his eyes bringing up Cody, reminding you of the way he looked at you the first night you came back to the trailer. But, you take his hand and he’s only projecting pride and confidence. It makes you stand taller, knowing he’s a secure man.

He leads you back toward the bleachers. The two of you settle in as the crowd starts to gather, the energy of the evening event buzzing around you. Joel drapes his arm casually along the back of the bench again, his fingers brushing lightly against your shoulder. It’s a small gesture, but it grounds you, making you feel like you’re exactly where you belong.

Tommy and the woman you’ve seen him spending most of the weekend with join you to watch a few rounds. You tense as they come toward the steps, shifting to create space between you and Joel, trying to seem casual. You feel Joel’s eyes on you, but he doesn’t say anything about your move.

Tommy shoots you a wink before they take the seats next to you. It makes you squirm, but you tell yourself he’s always just playful like that. Too charming for his own good.

They stay and chat long enough to finish their drinks before heading back to watch the rest of the event with her group of friends.

Joel stays seated beside you, his arm still draped casually along the back of the bench, his other hand resting on his thigh. There’s a comfortable silence between you, the kind that feels like its own kind of conversation.

Finally, Joel clears his throat, turning slightly to face you. There’s a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with something earnest and determined.

“I know this might be the wrong time to bring this up,” he begins, commanding your attention just with the timbre of his voice pulling at your heart, “but I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about where I’m at.”

You tip your head, curiosity piqued. “Where you’re at?”

He nods, his gaze holding yours. “Look, I know your dad’s a good man, and I don’t want to cross any lines. But I also don’t want to miss my chance with you.” He pauses, his hand brushing against yours where it rests on your lap. “I don’t want this to be our only day together, and I won’t have you sneakin’ out your bedroom window and hoppin’ the fence to see me. S’just not the kind of man I am.”

Your heart stutters as his words sink in. There’s no wavering in his voice, no attempt to downplay what he’s saying. He’s laying it out plainly, his honesty disarming in a way you didn’t expect.

“So what are you saying?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He takes a deep breath, his hand shifting to fully cover yours. “I’m sayin’ I want something real with you. Not just sneakin’ moments or pretendin’ it don’t matter. I want to see where this goes.”

Your chest swells. You nod slowly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’d like that.” Relief washes over his face, and he leans close to you.

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “Well, if you’re such a true-blue cowboy, you’re gonna have to be the one to tell my dad.”

Joel nods. “I’ll handle it.” His voice is quieter, but honest. His gaze seems to look a little far away.

You squeeze his hand. “We’ll handle it.” You give him an encouraging smile. “Don’t have to do everything by ourselves right?”

He gives you a warm look. “Right.” He dips toward you for a chaste kiss. It’s sweet and playful. “Just don’t make me wait too long to take you out proper,” he rumbles as he pulls his head back.

You laugh airily, leaning into his side as he pulls you closer. The warmth of his arm around you, the weight of his hat still on your head, and the quiet promise of what’s to come settle over you, the world around you fading into a comfortable hum of possibilities for you and your cowboy Joel.

thank you for reading! pls let me know what you think <3

dividers by @/saradika-graphics tags for babes in case they want some cowboy joel: @lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin @harriedandharassed

@bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld

#pedrostories #pedrostoriesgift24 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #cowboy!joel miller

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literaryvein-reblogs · 1 month ago

Text

Writing Notes: Self-Editing

Editing writing draws upon different skills than creative storytelling, which makes self-editing difficult for many writers. If hiring an editor isn’t an option, you will want to improve your own editing skills to increase your writing’s readability and overall quality.

Tips for Editing Your Own Writing

Print it out. Reading your words on the printed page can help you find spelling mistakes, sentence fragments, and run-ons more easily than trying to track them down on a bright computer screen; you can even change the formatting of the text if that helps you look at it differently. Use a red pen (or any other vibrant color) to track changes or edits along the way.

Read aloud. Hearing how your writing sounds can also help you listen for lines that don’t sound right, like wishy-washy sentences, overuse of particular phrases, and unnecessary words. Sometimes a writer doesn’t realize that their sentence structure is poor or that their main point isn’t clear until they hear it read aloud (you can even use a text-to-speech program or ask someone else to read it back to you while you jot down things you notice).

Take a break. Walking away from your writing project for a period of time and coming back to it with fresh eyes can help you gain a fresh perspective by creating an emotional distance between you and your work. If you’re finding it hard to be objective, give it space—when you return to your own writing, you may find yourself with an entirely new outlook.

Keep your voice active. With active voice writing, the subject of a sentence is performing an action. That action is represented by a verb, which is the part of speech that anchors all complete sentences. While passive voice isn’t completely forbidden in a piece of writing, it’s usually a good idea to keep your tone energized, as it keeps your readers reading.

Edit line by line. A good editor will systematically go through a piece of writing line by line, and that is what you should do as well. It may take time and be a painstaking task, but if you’re editing your own work, you’ll need to look closely at the words you’ve written to find any outstanding issues like grammatical errors or typos.

Get familiar with style guides. Professional editors may come equipped with extensive editing skills, but it’s possible to learn what they know. Look up which writing style guide applies to your writing (if you’re copywriting, you’ll likely want the AP style guide, whereas fiction writing will use the Chicago Manual). Follow the proper guidelines laid out and add them to your editing checklist: Are all the commas where they should be for this particular piece? Are words properly italicized or quoted? Knowing what to look for can not only expand your editing experience but help you become a better writer.

Avoid clichés. While they appear in good writing every so often, clichés are mostly boring unless you have a unique spin on them or can integrate them in a way that doesn’t seem tired.

Embrace re-reading. Editing isn’t a one-off process, and chances are you’ll need multiple read-throughs in order to find all of your weak sentences, grammar mistakes, punctuation errors, and spelling errors.

Mind your syntax. Be on the lookout for issues with grammar and word choice. Certain words can change the whole mood or feeling of a piece, and using weak verbs and weak adjectives will only exacerbate that. Make sure your writing feels strong and clear, and use a thesaurus with caution. If you’re not exactly sure how to use a word, don’t.

Save the proofreading for last. Whether you’re copy editing for content marketing or writing the first draft of a memoir, proofreading is the very last step you should take when self-editing. As you go through your piece, you’ll be re-writing sentences and paragraphs, so searching for grammar errors or doing a spell check before your final draft will only waste more time. It’s okay if you spot errors along the way (you don’t have to ignore them), but don’t make it the first step you take when tackling your own editing.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Editing ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

#editing #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #writing reference #dark academia #writing tips #writing advice #light academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing resources

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svt-luna · 27 days ago

Note

hii can i request luna calling the svt members by the wrong name and seeing their reaction

ʚིᵋ ⋆ SVT REACTS TO LUNA ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── Accidentally calling them the wrong name

synopsis: SEVENTEEN’s reaction to Luna accidentally calling them the wrong name.

new format for the new tier (?) i thoroughly enjoyed writing this one and ever since i have posted the masterlist for svt reacts, a lot of you have been submitting the prompts you want to see next and i am super excited to get started on those! happy reading my lovelies and see you soon 💛🤍

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ svt reacts

⍣ ೋ🍒 [S.COUPS]

The practice room was peaceful, which should have been his first warning. Nothing in SEVENTEEN’s world stays peaceful for long.

He was lounging comfortably, minding his own business, when Luna, unknowingly signing her own death certificate, handed him a drink and casually muttered, “Here, Soonyoungie.”

Froze. Blinked once. Twice. Processing… still processing… ERROR 404: LEADER’S EGO NOT FOUND.

ERROR. CRITICAL DAMAGE DETECTED. SYSTEM FAILURE IMMINENT.

His entire body stiffened on impact, as if she had just drop-kicked his dignity off a cliff. His brain short-circuited so violently that, for a brief moment, he was no longer Seungcheol, leader of SEVENTEEN— he was just a man betrayed in the cruelest way possible.

Slowly turned his head toward her with the disappointment of a father who just found out his child failed a math test despite having a tutor. His eyebrows knit together in betrayal, his lips slightly parted in sheer disbelief.

This was not just a mistake— this was a scandal.

The sheer weight of his disappointment could have crushed an entire nation.

“Soonyoung?” he repeated, voice so calm it was actually terrifying.

Blinked three times in complete silence as if waiting for a divine explanation to fall from the heavens. He blinked again, as if giving her a chance to correct herself before he officially lost his mind.

Luna did a double take, realizing that it wasn’t Hoshi next to her.

Luna’s fight-or-flight response activated instantly. Her soul packed its bags and fled. Her eyes widened in terror, hands clumsily flailing as she tried to backpedal. “WAIT—NO, THAT’S NOT—”

S.Coups let out the biggest sigh known to mankind, one that carried the weight of ten years of suffering. Dramatically placed a hand over his heart as if she had stabbed him with betrayal, head tilting back like he was experiencing Shakespearean-level heartbreak.

“Wow. Of all people, Soonyoung?” Shook his head. Scoffed. Whispered, “Unbelievable. This… this hurts, Jiyeon.” (Used her government name. This was serious for him).

Looked away, shaking his head like he had just learned his best friend was actually the villain in a plot twist.

Stared at an imaginary camera, The Office-style, for a solid five seconds. Contemplated his entire existence.

Luna, desperate to fix her mistake, waved her hands wildly. “It was an accident! I am tired! I thought you were Hoshi—”

He sat up dramatically, eyebrows raised, fully prepared to drag her. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s not like I was the one who stayed up last week comforting you when you had a breakdown.”

Stood up. Pacing. Muttering under his breath like a man scorned. “I should’ve known. The signs were there. I ignored them. That’s on me. I didn’t know you’d be the one to betray me.”

Luna, on the verge of a breakdown herself, groaned, “OH MY GOD, IT WAS AN ACCIDENT. You’re being dramatic…”

Hands on his chest, clutching his pearls.

“AN ACCIDENT? YOU SAW ME AND STILL CALLED ME SOONYOUNG!”

Collapsed back onto the couch with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Whispered to himself, “I didn’t raise you like this.”

Would never let her live this down. Ever. Would bring it up during the most inopportune moments just to see her suffer.

“Hey, remember that time you called me Soonyoung?”

“THAT WAS SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“And yet the wound is still fresh.”

⍣ ೋ🪽[JEONGHAN]

Yoon Jeonghan is the biggest menace known to man— let’s start there. He’d get even… a hundred percent.

Oh, Luna messed up. She messed up big time. But she didn’t know it yet. Jeonghan knew it, though. Oh, he knew. And the moment the words left her mouth, he had already decided that she would never know peace again.

It was a normal day, nothing out of the ordinary. Luna was scrolling through her phone, multitasking between replying to messages and absentmindedly talking to Jeonghan, who was sitting next to her. It was casual, relaxed— dangerously so.

And then, like the heavens themselves decided to bless Jeonghan with the greatest gift of all time, she absentmindedly called him “Joshie.”

Jeonghan’s brain registered the betrayal instantly, but his face remained completely neutral.

Not even a twitch. No dramatic gasp, no offended expression— just pure, calculated silence.

This was an opportunity.

Slowly turned his head toward her with an expression so unreadable it was actually terrifying. Blinked once. Twice. Then, with the smoothest, most even voice known to mankind, he said, “Who’s Joshie?”

Luna froze. Her fingers hovered over her phone screen, eyes darting to him as if she had just realized she was standing on a landmine with no escape. Her soul did ten backflips and crash-landed into the abyss.

“Wait—I didn’t mean— I was texting Shua—”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He smiled.

Oh no. Not the smile. The one that hid a thousand schemes. The one that meant he had already won.

“Joshie, huh? Wow. That’s crazy.”

Leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, nodding as if this was the most fascinating discovery of his life. Whispered under his breath, “Joshie… Joshie… I didn’t know we were at that stage in our relationship.”

Luna knew she was doomed. “I swear, it was just a slip—”

“No, I get it.” Jeonghan put a hand on his chest, mock hurt dripping from his voice. “Five years. Engaged. And yet, I’m just another Joshua in your eyes.”

Luna groaned, already wanting to crawl into a hole. “It was an accident! My brain lagged! I was texting Joshua!”

“Oh really? You were texting Joshua?” He tilted his head. “Or should I say… Joshie?”

Oh, he was milking this. He was squeezing every last drop of suffering out of this moment. He grabbed his phone, pretending to text.

“What are you doing?” Luna asked, voice full of dread.

“Oh, just letting Joshie know the good news.”

“WHAT GOOD NEWS?” Luna wanted smack the back of his head.

Jeonghan smirked, showing her his screen. He had typed out a message to Joshua that simply said:

“Hey, Joshie, just found out Jiyeon thinks about you when she looks at me. Any thoughts?”

Luna lunged at him. “DELETE THAT RIGHT NOW.”

Jeonghan, laughing like a supervillain, dodged easily. “Oh, no, no, no. This is my leverage now. You think I’m letting this go? Absolutely not.”

Would bring it up at the most unnecessary moments.

“Hey, can you grab me some water? Or should I ask Joshie instead?”

“Wow, you look so pretty today. Does Jisoo think so too?”

“Should I dye my hair like his? Maybe then you’ll remember my name.”

Luna knew one thing for certain: She had just given Jeonghan a lifetime of teasing material. She had lost this battle. And the war.

Oh, but Jeonghan wasn’t stopping there. No, no. This was only the beginning. The next phase of his plan? Calling her every random girl name imaginable just to see her reaction.

It started casually. Too casually. Luna had just finished brushing her hair when Jeonghan, lounging on the bed, casually glanced up and said, “Looking good, Minji.”

Luna snapped her head around so fast she almost got whiplash. “What did you just call me?”

Jeonghan, with the most innocent expression known to mankind, blinked at her. “Minji. That’s your name, right? Or is it Jisoo? Or maybe… Yuna?”

Luna’s eye twitched. “Yoon Jeonghan, I swear—”

“Oh, relax, Soojin. You’re so aggressive today.”

Luna yeeted a pillow straight at his face. Jeonghan, laughing like the menace he was, dodged it with ease.

This became a game to him. He’d throw out random names at the most ridiculous times.

“Could you pass me that remote, Jihye?”

“Wow, thanks for making dinner, Seulgi. So sweet of you.”

“Hey, Hyejin, can you scratch my back real quick?”

Luna, now fully fed up, stomped toward him with the wrath of a thousand suns. “Call me one more name that isn’t mine and I will actually smack that stupid smirk out your fucking face.”

Jeonghan grinned. “Okay, okay. I got it, babe. You win.”

Pause. A beat of silence.

And then, with a smug smirk, he added, “Sorry, I mean… babe… or should I say… Somin?”

Luna full-on lunged. Jeonghan barely escaped with his life, laughing like a villain as she chased him around the room.

At first, Luna had been playfully mad, but after the hundredth time, the joke started to sting a little. It wasn’t like she actually thought Jeonghan meant anything by it, but hearing random girl names instead of her own, over and over, started to feel a little too real.

One evening, when he lazily threw out, “Thanks for the coffee, Hani,” expecting her usual exasperated groan, Luna just… stopped. She didn’t glare. She didn’t throw a pillow at him. She just stood there, stirring her drink with her lips pressed together, shoulders slightly hunched.

Jeonghan instantly noticed. His smug grin dropped as he watched her fiddle with her mug, not looking at him.

His teasing brain might be the size of a galaxy, but he wasn’t stupid.

It’s crazy how fast the tables had turned.

“Oh no…” Jeonghan muttered under his breath, moving closer. He gently poked her cheek. “Baby? Nana-ya?”

Luna pouted, looking down. “I don’t like it when you call me other girls’ names.” Her voice was soft, almost sulky, and Jeonghan felt his soul leave his body.

Immediate panic mode. “Oh, no, no, no, my love, my pretty moon, my one and only Jiyeonie, come here.” He was already cupping her face, rubbing his thumbs over her cheeks. “You know I was just messing around, right? You’re the only one I’d ever call mine.”

Luna sniffled. “Then why do you keep calling me other girls’ names?”

It’s crazy how fast the tables had turned pt. 2.

Jeonghan physically recoiled. He had never felt so villainous in his life. “I am so sorry. I will never do it again, Nana-ya.”

But before he let the joke die completely, he made sure of one thing. He leaned in, locking eyes with her, tone suddenly serious. “Say my name.”

Luna blinked. “Huh?”

“Say it. I need to know you still remember it.”

She rolled her eyes, but Jeonghan was relentless. He leaned in even closer. “Say it, Jiyeonie.”

Luna sighed, but there was a small smile creeping onto her lips. “Jeonghan.”

“Louder.”

“Jeonghan.”

He tilted his head. “One more time, for the people in the back.”

Luna huffed, pushing his face away. “Yoon Jeonghan, you absolute menace.”

Jeonghan grinned, finally satisfied. “That’s right. That’s my name. I love hearing you say it. And I’ll make sure you never forget it again.” He kissed her forehead, finally letting the bit go.

Luna sniffled again, but the pout was gone, replaced by a reluctant smile. “You’re lucky I love you.”

From that day forward, Jeonghan never called her another girl’s name again.

And Luna? She never made the mistake of calling him the wrong name ever again.

⍣ ೋ🦌[JOSHUA]

Joshua Hong, the human embodiment of kindness and patience, did not even flinch. The moment Luna slipped up and called him the wrong name, he merely blinked, absorbing the mistake with the grace of a saint.

“Han— Oh, wait— Shua! I meant Joshua, I’m so sorry!” Luna gasped, eyes wide with immediate regret. She clasped her hands together in a desperate plea for forgiveness, already bracing herself for potential teasing or dramatic reactions.

But Joshua, ever the composed and forgiving soul, simply smiled. Not a hint of annoyance, not a single trace of offense— just pure, unbothered tranquility. It was almost unnerving how unaffected he was.

“It’s fine,” he assured her effortlessly, brushing it off. The way he said it so genuinely made her feel even worse.

Luna, still feeling guilty, shook her head. “No, no, it’s not fine. I feel terrible! I don’t know what happened, my brain just—”

Joshua held up a hand to stop her, chuckling lightly. “Really, Jiyeon-ah. It’s no big deal. I know you didn’t mean it. But—” he tapped his chin thoughtfully, tilting his head as if reconsidering.

Here it comes. The condition.

Despite being deemed “normal” he was far from that.

Luna perked up, desperate to redeem herself. “But what? I’ll do anything!”

He shrugged nonchalantly, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Buy me a coffee, and we’ll call it even.”

Luna blinked. “That’s it? Just a coffee?”

Joshua smiled again, this time a little amused. “Yep. That’s all it takes to heal my broken heart.”

She groaned, but she was already reaching for her phone. “Fine. But I’m getting you the most expensive one on the menu to make up for it.”

He laughed, “I won’t stop you. Oh, and while we’re at it… you do remember my name now, right?”

Luna dramatically sighed. “Joshua Hong. Hong Jisoo. I will never forget it again.”

And she didn’t… that coffee was expensive.

⍣ ೋ🐱[JUN]

Jun was mid-bite into his orange when Luna completely and utterly betrayed him.

“Hey, Shi-shi, can you— oh. Wait.”

Silence. Heavy. Unforgiving. Eternal.

Jun did not speak. He did not blink. He simply put down his half-eaten orange slice, wiped his hands with a napkin, and slowly turned to face her.

His eyes? Empty. His soul? Possibly ascending.

Luna tensed, feeling the weight of her mistake. “Junnie, I—”

Without breaking eye contact, Jun calmly raised both hands… and formed Hoshi’s signature tiger claw gesture.

Luna’s jaw dropped. “God— please no.”

Jun nodded, his expression still unreadable. Then, in the most monotone voice imaginable, he said—

“KWON TI—” He cut himself off mid-sentence, exhaling sharply through his nose as if the sheer effort of speaking was too much.

Luna smacked her forehead. “OH MY GOD, PLEASE DON’T DO THIS.”

But it was too late. Jun slowly, methodically, stood up. He adjusted his posture, squared his shoulders, and became Hoshi.

“TIGER POWER,” he whispered, barely above a breath.

Luna covered her face with both hands. “MOON JUNHUI. STOP.”

He did not stop. Instead, he gracefully spun in a circle, did an exaggerated tiger pose, and let out the most deadpan, lifeless “HAEYA.” the world had ever heard.

Luna was losing her mind. “WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS??”

Jun finally blinked, looking at her with complete and utter indifference. “I don’t know. Why is Hoshi like like this?”

Luna groaned, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. Jun, still blank-faced, caught it with one hand and did another slow-motion tiger claw.

“Fear me.”

She did not.

But she did immediately vow to never make that mistake again.

⍣ ೋ🐯[HOSHI]

Hoshi was in the middle of passionately explaining his latest choreography idea, hands flailing, eyes sparkling with excitement, when Luna casually shattered his entire existence.

“That sounds amazing, Channie! You’re such a genius with choreo— oh, wait… SHI-SHI. I MEANT HOSHI.”

The room went dead silent. Hoshi froze mid-motion, arms still dramatically outstretched, mouth slightly open as if the betrayal physically knocked the wind out of him.

Slowly— painstakingly slowly— his arms dropped to his sides. His eyes, once full of light and passion, dimmed like a dying star.

Luna, sensing immediate danger, waved her hands frantically. “No, no, no, no! I didn’t mean it! My brain lagged! HOSHI, YOU KNOW I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!”

But it was already too late. Hoshi placed a trembling hand over his heart, inhaling sharply through his nose as if she had physically stabbed him.

“You…” He swallowed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You think… Dino made this choreography?”

Luna panicked. “NO, NO, I—”

He dramatically took a step back, clutching his chest. “AFTER EVERYTHING I’VE TAUGHT YOU. AFTER EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH.”

“SOONYOUNG-AH, PLEASE.”

“DO I MEAN NOTHING TO YOU?” His voice cracked for effect. “AM I JUST A DANCE MACHINE TO YOU? A BACKGROUND CHARACTER? A… A REPLACEMENT??”

Luna was suffering at this point. “OH MY GOD, IT WAS A MISTAKE, STOP BEING DRAMATIC.”

Hoshi gasped like she had slapped him. “DRAMATIC?? ME?? YOU THINK I’M BEING DRAMATIC??”

She groaned, rubbing her temples. “Yes. Because you are.”

He threw his head back, arms spread wide. “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS.”

Then, out of nowhere, he dropped to the floor in slow motion, one hand reaching for the heavens like he was in the final scene of a tragic musical.

“SOMEONE CALL KWON SOO— I MEAN, LEE CHAN. SINCE HE’S OBVIOUSLY THE NEW PERFORMANCE LEADER.”

Luna let out an exasperated scream. “Kwon Soonyoung. GET. UP.”

But he did not. Instead, he rolled onto his side, curling into the fetal position. “Leave me here. I have no reason to get up. I am but a forgotten relic of the past.”

Luna, now at her limit, bent down and grabbed his face. “KWON SOONYOUNG, IF YOU DO NOT STOP THIS NONSENSE RIGHT NOW, I AM NEVER BUYING YOU TIGER MERCH AGAIN.”

Immediate silence.

His eyes flickered with conflict. His lips parted. He hesitated.

Then, with the speed of lightning, he shot up, completely fine. “Wait, wait, let’s talk about this. Let’s not make rash decisions, our pretty Jiyeonie.”

Luna smirked, crossing her arms. “Oh, now you want to listen?”

Hoshi gave her his most innocent smile, eyes twinkling. “You love me, right? You wouldn’t do this to me, right?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine. But if you ever pull that overdramatic mess again, I’m actually switching performance leaders.”

Hoshi gasped, grabbing his chest again. “THE THREATS NEVER END.”

But they both knew he’d never let her live this down.

⍣ ೋ🐈‍⬛[WONWOO]

Wonwoo was sitting comfortably on the couch, book in one hand, coffee in the other, completely immersed in his own world. The atmosphere was peaceful, quiet, and perfect— until Luna unintentionally shattered the moment with her casual betrayal.

“Hey, Kyeomie, can you pass me my phone?”

There was a brief silence. A very brief silence.

Wonwoo, without even looking up from his book, reached over, grabbed her phone, and handed it to her.

Luna took it absentmindedly before her brain caught up. The realization hit her like a truck. Her eyes widened. Her whole body stiffened.

“…Wait. I just called you Kyeomie, didn’t I?”

Wonwoo, still not looking up, calmly turned a page. “Mm-hmm.”

Luna gawked at him. “And you didn’t even react?!”

He finally looked up, blinking at her with his usual unreadable expression. “Was I supposed to?”

She threw her hands up. “YES?? MOST PEOPLE WOULD BE OFFENDED. OR CONFUSED. OR LITERALLY ANYTHING.”

Wonwoo simply shrugged, sipping his coffee. “It’s not a big deal. Names are just words, anyway.”

Luna stared at him in disbelief. “‘Names are just words’— DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF?”

He blinked again, completely unfazed. “Yes. I think I have good hearing.”

She groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “You’re impossible.”

Wonwoo just went back to reading. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Luna dramatically flopped onto the couch next to him. “I feel like I just committed a crime, and you’re making me suffer by not even caring.”

Wonwoo smirked slightly, not looking up. “Would you rather I make a scene? Roll on the floor? Fake cry? Because I can.”

She squinted at him. “You would not.”

He turned another page, his expression neutral. “You’ll never know.”

Luna huffed. “Fine. But if I ever hear you accidentally call me by the wrong name, I’m holding it against you for life.”

Wonwoo chuckled lightly. “Duly noted, Kyeomie.”

Luna smacked his arm. Wonwoo, still expressionless, took another sip of coffee.

SERVE WELL, MY LOVE! (ok… bye.)

⍣ ೋ🍚[WOOZI]

Woozi was in the studio, hunched over his computer, headphones on, completely focused on fine-tuning the latest track. The glow from the screen highlighted the intense concentration on his face, fingers flying across the keyboard as he adjusted the sound levels.

Luna, sitting on the couch behind him, casually stretched and yawned. “Hey, Hannie, do you want me to grab you a coffee?”

Woozi, without hesitation and without even turning around, simply nodded. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

A solid five seconds passed before Luna’s brain processed what she had just said.

Her eyes widened in horror, her entire body freezing as if she had just committed the ultimate sin.

“Oh my god. I CALLED YOU HANNIE!”

Woozi didn’t react. He was still adjusting the track levels, completely unfazed. “Yeah, you did.”

Luna scrambled forward, gripping the edge of his desk. “YOU DON’T EVEN CARE??”

Woozi let out a small sigh, finally pushing his headphones down to rest around his neck. He turned slightly, giving her the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “Jiyeon-ah. I barely care about my own name, why would I care about someone else’s?”

She gaped at him. “WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN??”

He shrugged, already turning back to his computer. “It means names are just sounds. You could’ve called me ‘Chair’ and I still would’ve said yes if coffee was involved.”

Luna groaned, dramatically throwing herself back onto the couch. “Why are you and Wonwoo like this? Are you two in some secret society of people who just don’t care about anything??”

Woozi, clicking through his project file, didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah. It’s called ‘Minding Our Own Business.’”

Luna sat up, pointing at him. “Well, you better mind this— if you ever call me the wrong name, I’m going to throw your guitar out the window.”

Woozi actually paused for the first time. He slowly turned his chair to face her, his eyes narrowed slightly. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Luna smirked. “Oh? So now names matter?”

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temple. “Fine. I acknowledge my name. Happy now?”

She grinned. “Very.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“…So, are you actually getting me coffee, or was that just a slip of the tongue because you thought I was your boy toy?”

“Shut up.” Luna groaned, but she was already grabbing her wallet. “You’re lucky I respect you.”

Woozi simply smirked, pushing his headphones back on. “I know.”

⍣ ೋ🐸[THE8]

Minghao was peacefully sipping tea, one leg crossed over the other, while flipping through an art book.

The afternoon was quiet, the vibes immaculate, the energy balanced— until Luna casually shattered his Zen.

“Hey, Junnie, can you pass me the remote?”

Without even looking up, Minghao reached over, grabbed the remote, and handed it to her.

Luna took it absentmindedly before her brain short-circuited. Her eyes widened. Her soul left her body.

“OH MY GOD. I JUST CALLED YOU JUNNIE.”

Minghao calmly turned a page in his book. “Yeah. You did.”

Luna blinked. He didn’t even flinch. “And… you’re just okay with that?”

He shrugged, taking another slow sip of tea. “I mean… I knew what you meant.”

Luna dramatically grabbed his arm. “BUT I MESSED UP YOUR NAME. AREN’T YOU AT LEAST A LITTLE BIT OFFENDED? I WOULD BE.”

Minghao stared at her for a moment, then let out a deep sigh. He slowly set his cup down, closing his book with deliberate care.

And then, in the most monotone voice possible— “Wow. I’m so hurt. This betrayal cuts deep. I may never recover.”

Luna squinted. “Are… are you being sarcastic?”

He pressed a hand over his chest, shaking his head in fake sorrow. “No, no. This is real. My heart aches. The pain is unbearable. I feel lost, abandoned, nameless in this cruel world.”

Luna smacked his arm. “XU MINGHAO. BE SERIOUS.”

He exhaled heavily, looking at her with fake exhaustion. “Jiyeonie. If I got worked up every time someone messed up my name, I’d be dead by now. Do you know how many times people have called me The8 in casual conversation?”

She winced. “Okay, fair. But still! Jun and Minghao aren’t even close!”

He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Actually, we’re both Chinese. We both have great fashion sense. We both—”

Luna groaned, covering her face. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE JUSTIFYING MY MISTAKE.”

He smirked. “Well, someone has to. You’re spiraling.”

Luna crossed her arms, pouting. “Fine. Then I guess you won’t care if I call you something else.”

Minghao tilted his head, intrigued. “Try me.”

She smirked. “Alright. From now on, I’m calling you ‘MingMing.’”

His entire body froze.

Luna’s smirk grew wider. “What? I thought names were no big deal?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Luna. Don’t test me.”

She grinned. “Oh, I’m definitely testing you. MingMing.”

Minghao groaned, grabbing his tea and downing it in one go. “I take back my calm. This is my villain origin story.”

⍣ ೋ🐶[MINGYU]

Mingyu was standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, diligently preparing a snack for himself and Luna.

His concentration was at 100%, tongue slightly poking out in focus as he carefully spread peanut butter onto a slice of bread like it was a Michelin-star meal.

Luna, casually scrolling through her phone on the barstool, absentmindedly called out, “Hey, Cheollie, can you grab me some water?”

Mingyu instantly froze.

Like— spatula still in mid-air, peanut butter dripping onto the counter— frozen.

Slowly, dramatically, he turned around. His big, brown, puppy-dog eyes were already shimmering.

“…What did you just call me?”

Luna, still oblivious, blinked up at him. “Huh? I just asked you to get me—” Her entire soul left her body as realization hit her.

“OH MY GOD. I SAID CHEOLLIE.”

Mingyu gasped so loudly it could’ve shattered glass. His giant hands clutched his chest like he had just been personally victimized.

The betrayal. The sheer pain.

He dramatically staggered backward, hand reaching out like he was in a tragic drama. “Lu-lu-ya… do you… not love me anymore?”

Luna groaned, already burying her face in her hands. “Gyu-Gyu, please—”

“DO YOU THINK I’M JUST SOME OTHER MEMBER TO YOU?” His voice cracked.

Luna lifted her head, about to argue, but was immediately silenced by the way he was pouting. The biggest, saddest, most pitiful pout she had ever seen in her life.

He pointed at himself, looking devastated. “I thought… I was your favorite tall, handsome, ridiculously talented member… But now… I’m just ‘Cheollie’ to you?”

Luna sighed, getting off the stool and walking up to him. “Gyu, you know that’s not true. It was just a mistake! I was distracted!”

“A mistake?” He whispered it like it was a personal attack.

Luna groaned. “Yes! A mistake! Do you think I don’t know who you are?! You’re the biggest person in the room at all times, how could I confuse you with Seungcheol?!”

Mingyu sniffled dramatically. “But… do you still care about me?”

Luna rolled her eyes, knowing what Mingyu needed, she placed her hands on his cheeks, squishing them. “Gyu-gyu. Look at me.”

He blinked, bottom lip still trembling slightly.

“I care about you more than life itself. You’re my favorite golden retriever. My favorite disaster chef. My favorite snack stealer. My favorite giant baby.”

He sniffed again. “Really?”

“Really.” She nodded firmly.

Mingyu’s pout finally turned into a grin. “Okay! Then I forgive you!”

Luna sighed in relief. But then—

He suddenly gasped again. “WAIT. BUT WHAT IF YOU CALL ME ANOTHER MEMBER’S NAME AGAIN?!”

Luna groaned, walking away. “I’M NOT DOING THIS AGAIN, KIM MINGYU.”

He followed after her, grinning. “Lu-lu-ya. JIYEONIE. Do you pinky promise it won’t happen again?”

“PINKY PROMISE ME RIGHT NOW.”

⍣ ೋ⚔️[DK]

The apartment was filled with laughter as Luna and Dokyeom battled it out in a heated game of Mario Kart.

Dokyeom had just shoved a banana peel in Luna’s path, sending her character spiraling, while he zoomed past, cackling like a madman.

Luna, frustrated but determined, leaned forward, gripping her controller. “Oh, you’re gonna pay for that, Wonie!”

Everything stopped.

Dokyeom’s character crashed into a wall. His controller slipped from his fingers. His head turned towards her so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

Luna barely had time to realize her mistake before Dokyeom let out a bloodcurdling scream. “WONIE?!”

He clutched his chest, stumbling off the couch like he had just been shot. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the floor, face twisted in sheer agony.

“Oh my GOD. She just— she just called me wOniE— AM I NOTHING TO YOU?”

Luna blinked, still gripping her controller. “Wait, what? No, hold on—”

But Dokyeom was already rolling around on the carpet like a man in distress, hands in his hair, eyes wide with betrayal. “I THOUGHT WE WERE CLOSE. I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL. YEARS OF FRIENDSHIP, GONE IN SECONDS.”

He suddenly gasped, sitting upright with horror. “WAIT. DOES THIS MEAN I’M JUST A BACKGROUND CHARACTER TO YOU?”

Luna groaned, rubbing her temples. “Dokyeomie, please—”

“NO NO NO. DON’T TRY TO FIX IT NOW,” he wailed, dramatically flopping onto the couch like an abandoned Victorian bride.

Then, suddenly— “Wait… does this mean I’m as cool as Wonwoo?”

Luna sighed. “That’s what you’re taking from this?”

He immediately sat up, beaming. “You think I have Wonwoo’s energy? That means I’m cool. A RAP GOD. A LEGEND.”

Luna gave him a deadpan look. “Or it just means I was distracted and called you the wrong name.”

He gasped again, placing a hand on his forehead. “THERE IT IS AGAIN. THE DAGGER TO MY HEART.”

Luna finally snapped.

“OH MY GOD, LEE SEOKMIN, I KNOW WHO YOU ARE! I DON’T KNOW WHY YOUR MAKNG A DEAL OUT OF THIS— NO ONE CALLS YOU YOUR REAL NAME ANYMORE! I JUST MESSED UP. YOU’RE LOUD, YOU’RE DRAMATIC, YOU HAVE THE SUNNIEST SMILE, AND YOU LAUGH LIKE YOU’RE CLINICALLY INSANE. HAPPY?”

Dokyeom blinked. Then grinned. “Yeah, actually. Thanks for noticing.”

Luna groaned, throwing a pillow at him.

Dokyeom caught it effortlessly, hugging it to his chest. “But just so you know… this moment will haunt me forever.”

Luna rolled her eyes. “I bet you’ll forget in five minutes.”

Dokyeom dramatically looked out the window, voice soft, melancholic. “I shall never recover from this wound…”

Five minutes later, he was giggling at a TikTok Luna showed him.

The recovery time was miraculous.

⍣ ೋ🍊[SEUNGKWAN]

Luna and Seungkwan were in the practice room, taking a break after a grueling vocal session. Seungkwan was lying flat on his back, dramatically fanning himself with a random piece of paper, while Luna scrolled through her phone, mindlessly sipping on her iced coffee.

“Hey, Hoshi, can you pass me my water bottle?” Luna asked without looking up.

The silence that followed was loud.

Too loud.

Seungkwan slowly sat up. His head turned toward Luna with the precision of a horror movie villain.

His eyes— wide. Unblinking.

The bombastic side eye that could reduce a person to dust.

Luna finally glanced up, instantly freezing when she was met with Seungkwan’s expression.

Oh. Oh no.

His voice came out deadly calm. “What. Did. You. Just. Call. Me?”

Luna gulped. “…Hoshi?”

Seungkwan’s hand flew to his chest like he had just been personally assassinated. “HOSHI?! HOSHI?! OUT OF ALL PEOPLE? YOU CALLED ME HOSHI?!”

Luna shrank back, gripping her iced coffee like it was a lifeline. “Kwanie, I swear, it was a mistake—”

“No. NO. I SEE HOW IT IS.” He stood up, arms crossed, shoulders squared, already launching into a full rant. “First of all, how DARE you confuse me with Hoshi? Do I look like I bounce off walls 24/7? DO I LOOK LIKE A FULLY CHARGED BATTERY?”

Luna blinked. “I—”

“Second of all, if you were going to mistake me for someone, WHY HIM? WHY NOT JOSHUA? OR JEONGHAN? OR EVEN MINGYU? ANYONE BUT HIM.”

Luna, still in shock, just stared. “…Are you fighting with Hoshi right now?”

“THAT’S NOT THE POINT,” Seungkwan snapped before dramatically pacing the room. “But since you asked— YES, I AM. HE ATE THE LAST BAG OF CHIPS THIS MORNING AFTER I TOLD HIK IT WAS MINE AND THEN HAD THE AUDACITY TO SMILE AT ME LIKE HE DIDN’T JUST COMMIT A CRIME. AND NOW YOU’RE OUT HERE CALLING ME HIS NAME? I FEEL SICK TO MY STOMACH.”

Luna looked down at her coffee, suddenly feeling like she wasn’t supposed to be part of this conversation.

Seungkwan wasn’t done. “DO I EVEN LOOK LIKE A HORANGHAE PERSON?” He did a halfhearted, barely committed tiger hand gesture. “DO YOU SEE HOW UNNATURAL THIS LOOKS?!”

Luna covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.

Seungkwan saw and gasped dramatically, pointing a finger at her. “OH, SO NOW YOU THINK IT’S FUNNY. YOU RUINED MY DAY AND NOW YOU’RE LAUGHING?!”

Luna finally broke, wheezing into her hands. “Kwanie, I am so sorry, please, you have to understand—”

“Nope. You can’t take it back.” He huffed, grabbing his water bottle and plopping onto the floor, pouting with the intensity of a child denied a toy. “You and Hoshi can go live happily ever after. I’ll just be here. Alone. In pain.”

Luna sighed, sliding next to him. “Come on, Seungkwannis, you know I love you. You’re my favorite chaos gremlin. My sass king. The most talented, dramatic, beautiful man I know.”

Seungkwan side-eyed her but didn’t respond.

Luna nudged him. “I’ll buy you chips.”

Seungkwan immediately brightened. “Two bags. Minimum.”

Luna grinned. “Deal.”

Seungkwan flipped his hair. “Good. Now never let that happen again. Ever. Or I’m telling Jeonghannie the time you broke one of his Legos and dragged me to build it with you before he returned.”

“NO YOU WON’T!”

⍣ ೋ🐢[VERNON]

The SEVENTEEN members were lounging in Seungcheol’s place after a long day of practice.

Vernon, as usual, had his earphones in, bobbing his head to some obscure rap track, completely in his own world, while Luna scrolled through her phone, mindlessly swiping through social media.

Luna, still distracted, was trying to get Vernon’s attention. She noticed him humming along, eyes closed, completely absorbed in the music. She decided it would be a good time to ask him to pass her the remote.

“Hey, Gyu—” Luna started, before quickly realizing her slip-up. She blinked, realizing she’d just called Vernon by Mingyu’s name.

Vernon, lost in the groove, didn’t hear her the first time, nor did he realize what happened. He didn’t even look up from his phone.

Luna paused mid-sentence, watching him, then tried again a little louder. “Hansol-ah? Nonnie!CHWE HANSOL!”

Still no response. Vernon was deep into his zone, tapping his foot and nodding to the beat, fully disconnected from reality.

Frustrated, Luna tossed her pillow at his head. The pillow hit Vernon’s earphones and bounced off his cheek.

Vernon, now a little startled, took off his earphones, looked over at Luna, and gave her a nonchalant wave. “Sup.”

Luna blinked, trying to figure out how to navigate this now— awkward—situation. “I was gonna ask you to hand me the remote but I just called you Mingyu by accident… but I swear it was a mistake.”

Vernon shrugged, leaning back on the couch. “Cool.”

Luna stood frozen for a second, mouth slightly open, trying to process how Vernon didn’t even bat an eye at the fact that she called him the wrong name. “That’s it?”

Vernon nodded, still casually texting. “It’s cool. I mean, I didn’t even hear you. I was busy, you know, doing stuff.”

Luna narrowed her eyes. “You had earphones on. You literally did not hear a word I said. You didn’t even realize it was a mistake.”

“Yeah, but you’re fine,” Vernon replied, glancing up with that same deadpan expression. “It’s cool.”

Luna stared at him for a few moments, completely unsure of what to do next. She could either laugh at how ridiculously nonchalant he was or strangle him. She chose to raise her hands in defeat.

“You know what? Fine. I’m just going to go take a nap.”

Vernon nodded once, still scrolling through his phone. “Cool.”

As Luna walked away, she turned back to see Vernon still bopping his head, completely unbothered. She muttered under her breath, “Is that the only word he knows?”

On another day, Luna would tell the members that Vernon was the king of nonchalance— he was literally unbothered by everything, no matter how chaotic.

He could sit through a hurricane and still ask for snacks afterward.

⍣ ೋ🦦[DINO]

Luna and Dino were hanging out and chatting about random things. Luna was sitting on the couch, scrolling through her phone, while Dino was sitting next to her, fiddling with his headphones and occasionally laughing at something on his own.

Out of nowhere, Luna looked up, wanting to ask Dino about his upcoming solo photoshoot. In her distracted state, she blurted out, “Hansolie, when is that shoot of yours?”

Dino immediately froze, his eyes widening in mock disbelief. He turned slowly toward her, his lips forming a pout. “Excuse me? Did you just call me Hansol ?”

Luna’s face went pale. She had meant to call him by his name, but in her moment of confusion, she slipped up. “Oh my god, I’m sorry, Channie, I—”

Before she could finish, Dino crossed his arms dramatically, tilting his head to the side with a theatrical flair. “Wow. Really, Noona? I can’t believe you. You’re calling me Hansolie now? The disrespect.”

Luna burst out laughing, immediately apologizing, but Dino wasn’t done yet. “I’m your baby, Noona! You can’t just go around calling me the wrong name! I am your baby, remember that!”

Just as Luna was trying to control her laughter, Jeonghan walked by, overhearing the commotion. With his usual mischievous grin, he interjected, “That’s my line, Dino-ya. You’re not the only Jiyeonie’s baby.”

Dino snapped his head toward Jeonghan, eyes narrowing. “Oh, please, hyung. I already have noona. What do you want from me?” He deadpanned, rolling his eyes as Jeonghan laughed at his response.

Luna, still trying to calm down from laughing, now had to deal with two drama queens. “You guys are so extra! Dino, stop pouting. It was an honest mistake!”

Dino poked out his bottom lip and stared at her, unrelenting. “It was an honest mistake, but that doesn’t mean you should forget that I’m your baby!”

He then pointed at Jeonghan dramatically. “And this guy, here, needs to stop acting like he has a claim on me!”

Jeonghan, still smirking, winked at Luna. “Well, Dino, I don’t know. You’ve got that baby face, but I don’t know if you’re the real deal. I might just have to claim you back. Remind me again— who’s a baby are you?”

Dino scoffed, dramatically flipping his hair back. “I’m done!”

Luna was trying to hold back her giggles, but it was impossible now. She rubbed Dino’s head gently and apologized once more, “I’m so sorry, my Dino, really. I didn’t mean it. You are my baby.”

Dino brightened up immediately, his pout disappearing as he leaned into her touch. “I knew you’d remember eventually. But seriously, Noona, don’t forget my title again.”

Jeonghan, not one to let the moment pass without making a joke, tapped Dino’s shoulder. “Dino, you didn’t answer me. Do you know whose baby you are? I think you might need a reminder.”

Dino turned to Jeonghan, narrowing his eyes as if he had just had enough. “Are we really going to do this again, Jeonghan? Can’t you just let me have this? You don’t have to butt in every time I get some attention.”

Luna leaned back on the couch, arms crossed as she watched the two of them bicker. “You know, this is the kind of chaos I was trying to avoid. You two are literally like children.”

Dino didn’t seem to mind, though, as he grinned widely at her, now fully back in his playful mood. “Well, I’m just your baby. I can’t help it!”

Jeonghan grinned, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “You two are going to make my head explode. Honestly, you’re both my babies. I’m claiming you both.”

Luna sighed, looking between the two. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to the kitchen. You both stay here and fight over who’s the real man-child.”

As Luna left the room, Dino, who had forgotten about the situation, suddenly shouted after her. “Hey! Don’t forget about me, Noona! I’m your baby!”

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SUBMIT A REQUEST AND ASK ME ANYTHING!

: ̗̀➛ requests are always open ♡ - lunaఌ

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chuuyasheaven · 2 years ago

Note

bsd men as tits ass or thighs pls :3?? (specifically meursault boys)

“Tits, Ass or Thighs— What do they prefer?”

“—Everybody’s got certain preferences, don’t they? So, what are theirs?”

Tags: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Chuuya Nakahara, Sigma / afab! Reader, Nipple play?, ooc! Sigma, praising kink, degrading kink, overstimulation, pet names?, hdc format ig, thigh riding?, hickeys, mentioned lingerie?, spanking, mild brat taming, atp everyone may be ooc, face sitting, oral sex (afab! and m! recieving), titty job, messes of their milk, might contain grammar errors, this is a lot holy shit, etc.

Notes: Maybe u just meant Dazai, Fyodor and Chuuya but I added Nikolai and Sigma for funsies— hope this is okay tho!! And I never wrote for Sigma before so sorry if he’s so ooc. . Maybe he’s gonna be added to my list lol.

Dazai Osamu ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 I just know that he loves your thighs!! In my opinion, DAZAI lives for seeing you in thigh highs, especially if you have thick thighs. What do you mean you don’t wanna crush him with them??? What else are they made for then— oh, right, hickeys. It’s obvious that he’ll leave some marks here and there for fun, but another thing he lives about them is face sitting. This is literally the best way to die?!!? But also he lives to grab your thighs when he eats you out!!!

💙 Scenario;

He’s been at it for too long, you don’t even remember how many times you came already. . “Dazai, p–please. . S–sensitive!”, you tried to beg, but Dazai was way into this— Once you sit on this mans face, he won’t let go until your too sensitive, Dazai also always leave hickeys while he’s at it. Chanting how he would love to die this way, being crushed by your massive thighs. “—Why should I? You’re still talking properly, I won’t stop until you’re only able to moan my name. Now be a good girl, alright, ‘donna?”

Fyodor Dostoevsky ;

💙 Thighs 💙

💙 In all honesty, this man is a mystery for me– but if I would have to chose, thighs. FYODOR is kinda religious and stuff, meaning he’s definitely gonna be kinda traditional. (i do not know wtf I’m talking abt.) Fyodor doesn’t know what it is, but something about you in white lingerie and white thigh highs sets him off completely. Looking all innocent but being the complete opposite? Yes, absolute approval from him. But being the busy man he is, he’ll let you sit on his lap while he caresses your thighs!! :3

💙 Scenario ;

Seriously, how desperate are you? Walking up to Fyodor in white lingerie and white thigh highs while he’s obviously working? He finds it quite amusing how you think he’ll stop immediately to fuck you, no he won’t, yet. Fyodor just commands you to sit on his lap, now you’re getting off on his own thighs. But you’re still wearing panties, though he doesn’t care, you wanted this, didn’t you? As you keep grinding against it, he slapped your pussy through the fabric multiple times before. The small whines and whimpers are cute, but won’t change his mind to take you right now. “—I don’t really know what you expected me to do. . Well, actually, i did. It’s quite adorable how you think just because you’re desperate I’ll feed into your desires. Anyway, you seem to be getting off pretty easily, slut.”

Nikolai Gogol ;

💙 Tits 💙

Come on, this is so NIKOLAI, seriously. He's so silly, he would literally call them his personal stressballs. (Do not even try to deny it, it's canon.) Nonetheless, he likes to cum on them, Nikolai will make a mess out of them every time whenever you're giving him head. Another thing their useful for, in his opinion, is tit fucking!! It's a nice feeling for him when his dick's inside of your tits. Not to forget, your nipples are pretty fun to play with, but there's one last thing about them. .

💙 Scenario ;

There are many reasons why Nikolai adores you riding him! He loves how he barely has to do anything, hearing the adorable sounds leaving your mouth while you get off on his cock and most importantly, the way your tits bounce with you. All he's doing is laying back and enjoying the view of your tits almost bouncing out of your bra, he would love if they were to actually jump out. “—Hm, would you look at that! Your tits are seconds away to spill out of your bra, dove. I wouldn't mind if they did, maybe you just need to ride my dick faster. . Just like the needy whore you are.”

Sigma ;

💙 Tits 💙

I’m not really sure if it’s accurate, but running an casino ain’t easy. So what’s better than having you and your comfort. .—able tits? SIGMA would never admit it, but he loves them, dearly at that. If he ever needs an break, his head would probably rest on them. On the spicy side, he loves a good tit job. You mentioned this once and Sigma wasn’t against it, sure he was blushing over your suggestion but after he tried it, he loved it!!!

💙 Scenario ;

It felt good, really, Sigma loved your suggestion! He never thought of something like this, he never thought about recieving a tit job, but it felt heavenly. Just the way your tits were rubbing against his cock so good, it felt unreal. . The most beautiful whimpers left his lips, with his flushed expression on his face too, you assumed Sigma was enjoying himself, very. Soon he reached his climax, letting his cum leak on your tits. “—F–fuck. . You did s–so good, darling. Now, lay back and let me return the favor, yeah?”

Chuuya Nakahara ;

💙 Ass 💙

Ah, yes. CHUUYA is, in my opinion, an ass man. I saw a few people say that, and I agree. Like, he’s literally proud of that. He would slap your ass unexpected, respectfully though. He wouldn’t care if you’re carrying a bakery or not, he still slapping it!! Chuuya loves to spend money on matching bras and panties for you, but on your in general. Sometimes it gets to your head or something and you start to act out, which our ginger won’t let slide.

💙 Scenario ;

Lately, you’ve gotten on Chuuya’s nerves. Yeah, he loves to spend money on you and you, but he won’t stand you being bratty. As to right now, he’s ‘punishing’ you for it. The reference for ‘punishing’ is quite just fucking you until it’s stuck in your pretty little brain not to act out again. This time though, Chuuya added something to your punishment. . “Ch–chuuya. . ‘m sorry, I–i didn’t mean to—”, you tried to apologize, only to be silenced by another spank. “—Really? Too bad, you’re gonna take this if you want me to fuck you, baby. Just keep on taking f’me and I’ll fuck you soon enough, m‘kay?”

OH EM GEE YOU GUYS IT TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO FINISH

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mochroialainn · 3 months ago

Text

Besties, Im gonna be so for real right now, this turned out to be a little more intense and freaky than I intended. Im currently playing the campaign for Modern Warfare II (reboot) and could not get this scenario out of my brain since I first saw Graves. So uh... warnings for power play, mentions of safe words, over stimulation, multiple orgasms, breeding, creepy graves. Minors Do Not Interact this is an 18+ Post. This was also written on mobile and formatted on desktop so please ignore any spelling/grammar errors, I'm too tired to proof read it and fix it

Thinking about cybersecurity CIA!Operative reader whos married to Price and is brought onto the task force by the Secretary of Defense (so above Shepherds head) to try and find the traitor, the SoD has an inkling that its Shepherd and Graves and its readers job to prove it. One of the ways she does it, because shes young and pretty and knows how to get what she wants from a man, is by flirting with Graves and gradually getting closer and closer to him until she can hack his phone and gain access to his emails. She hates it. Hates him and his arrogance, his cocky smile and the way his eyes always trace over her body and stay too long leering at her tits when they talk. He genuinely makes her feel sick and queasy, and she shivers everytime shes out of his sight after flirting with him.

Price hates it. Hates the way Graves looks at her, eyes always on her tits or ass as if she was nothing more than something to fuck and leave disgarded. He has to clench his jaw and bite his tongue anytime he sees them together, he wants to punch Graves and break his fucking jaw. Wants to take a knife and carve his heart out of his fucking chest. But he doesn’t, because he can't. It would jeporadise everything you had worked for, would jeporadise his team if Shepherd knew his little lapdog had been found out he would have all of them killed in seconds.

But when you come to him after flirting with Graves all day, locking his office door behind you and already stripping yourself from your clothes beginning him to make you forget about every look and leer and touch from Graves, hes all but happy to oblige. He kisses you something fierce, all passion with a hint of danger mixed in, all lips and teeth and desperate panting into your mouth as he sigs your bare ass on his desk one hand already toying with your nipple while the other travels further down and starts to rub hard, rough circles your clit. You were already wet thinking about him, and now it starts to pull, slicking up your tighs and his desk but John doesnt care. It wouldnt be the first time he fucked you over his desk and it wouldnt be the last either. John makes you cum from just touching your clit before he removes his finger and rakes it through your hair, grabbing at the roots and pulling so your neck was barred to him.

He so desperately wanted to mark you, leaving bitea and hickeys over your skin to claim you as his but he couldnt, do he was gentle. Trailing kisses down your pulse point and across your collarbone, down your sternum going lower and lower until his face was in front of your pussy and he dove in like a man starved. Lips wrapping around your clit and sucking harshley, a satisfying pop echoing in the room as he let go. His eyes stared up at you as you threaded your fingers through his hair, "you remember your safe word?" A nod from you is all he needs to keep going, teeth digging into the supple flesh of your tigh as he slowly slid teo fingers into your weeping hole. He made sure to push you to the edge and withdraw, over and over again until you were a crying mess and he had mercy on you, edging you again until again until he finally let you cum. He made sure you came for him 2 more times before he even entartained the thought of fucking you and when he finally pulled his cock out of his trousers (not having undressed yet, wanting your wetness to soak into his clothes) you nearly weeped from the pleasure and overstimulation when he entered you, all the way to the hilt in one go. And there was no way he was stopping until he pumped at least 2 loads into your gorgeous pussy.

He'll make you forget all about Graves, hell when hes done with you, you'll be lucky if you can even remember your own name and don't walk away pregnant.

#cod x reader #cod smut #price x reader #price smuth #john price x reader #john price smut #captain john price x reader #captain john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut

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stinkyturd · 4 months ago

Text

When It Rains

Pairing: Leo Kurosagi/Reader

Comments: This one's pretty long, 15.6k. There's probably spacing issues, but I'm too tired to go over it again. FUCK Tumblr's editing system. The format is easier to read on ao3(I cross posted), if you find the texting portions to be a headache. MC is an anonymous Vtuber that makes commentary videos. Leo's a viewer and drama ensues. :')

"Ugh... I hate it when it rains."

Leo’s sprawled out on the couch in the Vagastrom garage, playing on his phone. His feet are kicked up on the armrest, despite the fact that he still has his shoes on. You sat on the loveseat across from him, going over errors on recent case reports. This week you were assigned to help out Alan and Leo, but mostly Alan. To your knowledge, Leo hasn't been doing much of any work as of late. Either that, or he just didn't want you involved in anything that he had his nose in, which would also track.

"What? Upset you can't spy on Alan as easily?" You ask, not bothering to look up from your laptop.

You already knew the answer. The rain was falling hard enough against the tin roof that you knew there was no way he was clearly eavesdropping on the Vagastrom captain from here.

Leo shrugs dismissively. "The rain isn't gonna last all day."

"Alan will be out later," You counter.

"I'll know when he gets back."

“It’ll probably be your bedtime by then," You remark as your fingers dance across the keyboard in front of you.

"I'll be up late. I gotta stream tonight anyway." Leo tilts his head to look at you. "Stay the night and help me.”

"Not happening," You shut him down without hesitation. Leo isn't well behaved enough for you to go out of your way to do favors for him unprompted. Not only that, you planned on recording a video today for your Youtube channel.

It was a side hustle you picked up a few months ago. You report general news and social media gossip anonymously using a voice modulator and a virtual avatar. The idea came to you after reading an article on the spike in popularity with Vtubers. You didn't particularly want the attention that came with a social media platform, so it seemed perfect. Making money at Darkwick proved to be difficult, but somehow you garnered enough consistent views to make a decent amount of income.

The content itself felt opportunistic, but it's popular. You did your best to make sure all details you reported on were accurate and not character assassination like some of the other creators would put out.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me?" Leo retorts in an accusatory tone.

"I'm supposed to be helping you with Darkwick duties," You correct him. "Last I checked, that doesn't include eavesdropping on your captain's private conversations."

Leo scoffs. "You don't know that."

You ignore his comment and catch him continuing to stare at you in your peripheral vision. He is likely banking on you caving. Unfortunately for him, it won't happen that easily.

Leo narrows his eyes at you. "Get me an energy drink from the fridge."

You let out a one-syllable, humorless, laugh. "Are your legs broken?"

"I just took a hot bath. Don't feel like walking."

"Sounds like a ‘you’ problem."

"...Fine." Leo snaps his head forward, returning his attention back to his phone.

Allowing silence to fall, you continue your work. For a brief few moments, the only noise in the room is your fingers hitting the keys on your laptop.

"...Looks like I'll just have to tell that infantile werewolf the real reason you ditched him the other day," Leo mutters, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your hands still and you finally glance up at him with a sharp look. "What?"

Leo types out a text. "Oh, nothing. I was just speaking out loud."

"Canceling aside, how do you even know that I planned to hang out with Lyca?"

The vice-captain shrugs. "Use that brain of yours for once."

You cease your typing and your fingers curl into the palm of your hand in agitation. "...Have you been snooping around the cathedral?"

"Tch, don't flatter yourself. I just happened to be passing by."

"And you just happened to activate your stigma near my location where no one else is? Get real, Kurosagi," You bite back.

Leo glosses over your comment and continues to antagonize you. "What will the poor pooch think when he finds out that you weren't actually pulled for a mission? You just blew him off to cozy up with King Kamurai."

"It's not like that, asshole! I just overbooked my schedule."

It was true. You had lost track of time that day filming one of your Youtube videos. So much so, that you forgot you had promised to help Jin that afternoon and didn't end up having time for both. You called Lyca to tell him that you had to do a mission to avoid over-explaining, or admitting to your negligence. You knew there was no point defending yourself, though. Leo would spin the story anyway to get what he wants.

Leo tosses a glance your way, his expression mocking. "Yeah? That why you were all dressed up when you left?"

Why the hell was he paying that much attention?

"...That wasn't for him," You protest.

Yet another misconception. It was for a brand deal and you didn't have time to change out of it. But you weren't about to blow your cover to Leo of all people.

The vice-captain rolls his eyes. "Puh-lease. Honestly, it's kind of pathetic that you think someone like Kamurai would actually go for you."

At this point, you're clenching your jaw so tightly that you think it might snap. "You're grasping at straws. For you to be lurking around my dorm long enough to witness all those details is more pathetic. Why are you so obsessed with tormenting me?"

"Implying my gathering intel is exclusive to you." Leo sighs and draws his attention back to his phone. "Spare me, Honor Roll. You're not special. Anyway, if you don't grab me an energy drink, I'll just text the hound my version of your dirty little secret."

"..."

You wordlessly shut your laptop and toss it to the side. Then you get to your feet and head for the mini fridge across the room.

"Put it over ice~" Leo demands in a sing-song voice.

You'd put it over ice, alright.

When you open up the fridge, you pull out a random energy drink from inside the door. The design on the can is gaudy and you don't recognize it-- likely something Leo had been gifted for free from one of his own brand deals. You peel back the aluminum lip at the top and a satisfying hiss rings in the air. There happens to be disposable cups on top of the fridge, right next to the ice maker. You grab one, fill it with ice, then pour the energy drink over the top. Once it's empty, you take some of your pent up aggression out on the can and crunch it up, before it gets tossed into a nearby recycling bin.

You make your way back over to Leo.

Leo clicks his tongue. "Took you long enough." The vice-captain holds out his grubby hand expectantly. "Give it here."

A wry smile pulls at your lips. "Yeah. Sure."

Ignoring the potential consequences of your actions, you bring the lip of the cup to your mouth and spit into the drink before handing it to him. "Here you go, Princess."

Leo stares blankly at the cup in your hand, his expression unimpressed. He takes it from you and brings it to his mouth, drinking out of it anyway.

…Well, can't say you expected that.

Leo flashes a derisive grin. "Try harder next time, NPC. Now piss off, will you? I'm about to record some reels and I don't need an eye sore in the background.”

For a moment you fantasize about beating the vice-captain into a bloody pulp. And why shouldn't you? He's a complete menace, after all. It’s not the first time he's blackmailed you and it wouldn't be the last.

You will get back at him.

“Sure thing.” You maintain a pleasant enough expression as you walk over to your previous spot to retrieve your laptop. After that, you gladly heed Leo's request and make yourself scarce.

–

Later that night, you record a video for your channel. It's short enough in length that you don't spend long editing it. That leaves you just enough time to upload it, before it's time to start getting ready for bed.

The video covered a week's worth of social media news that you had gathered, and also included a segment where you plugged a brand deal for a clothing company. They sent you several outfits for free that you tried on and reviewed. Of course, you made sure your face had been cut out for that portion of the video.

By the time you're dressing down in your pajamas you receive a text notification from your phone that's lying on your mattress. Nothing out of the ordinary– you'd check it once you're done.

And then another comes in. And another. Followed by two more.

You sigh, narrowing your eyes at the device as you pull your pants up. There's only one person that spam texts to you in fragments like that.

Leo.

What could he possibly want this time?

You begrudgingly make your way over to your bed, pick up your phone, and flop down on your stomach. After unlocking the screen, you check your notification bar.

Oh, it isn't Leo.

Just messages from someone on Instagram that you don't immediately recognize. After staring at the screen name for a moment, you realize it's a variation of a name that you've seen in your Youtube comment section– firechicken22. You click on the message.

[Omg]

[U always come in hot with the tea]

[Was about to search for that recent drama w chillygoat cuz ive been busy]

[But u did the work for me 🩷]

You smile at that and type a message back.

[Glad I could help 💕.]

You thought that would be the end of it, but you see them typing again.

[I rly liked the clothes u wore today. Cant believe u got a brand deal w Kimyou, totally jelly. Been tryna get one w them for years.]

Oh? Is this person a content creator? Curiosity gets the better of you and you click on their profile.

They only have a couple hundred followers, and they follow a couple of people– you being one of them. The few pictures they have up seem to be shitposts, not actual photos. And their profile picture is a bowl of spicy ramen. Another text notification pops up on your screen.

[I got a deal w Mior but theyre inconsistent w sending products :P]

You click on the notification again to reply.

[Mior? That's a pretty big deal. You create content?]

[Mhm. This is my alt lol. I avoid dming on my main.]

[Oh? Do I follow you?]

[Nope. I'll let u know if u ever do 😉]

Seems like they don't plan on telling you.

[Haha, alright. Keep your secrets. 🤭]

[I'll drop hints if u keep talking to me. 😏 Kinda wanna get to know u. I like ur takes on stuff.]

You don't mind the idea of messaging this person when you have time. Your following is decent sized, but it's not like you receive a lot of messages from fans. Plus, you were a little curious as to who this could be.

[Sure. I've been a little busy, but I'll respond when I have time. ☺️ I'm glad you feel like you can relate to what I put out. I try to keep things unbiased.]

[Kinda impossible to avoid at some point lol. I think u are impartial enough tho. Every1 glazes chillygoat but shes fr two faced asf– I should know.]

[I haven't spoken with her personally, but I'll take your word for it.]

That Youtuber wouldn't give you the time of day if you wanted it. You were still a small fry.

[We collabed b4 n all she does is yap about this guy that doesnt even want her n only talks about herself. Couldnt get a word in, shes lucky I was in a good mood. Totally not surprised she got caught w her pants down lmao.]

If this person has collabed with chillygoat, they must be relatively big. You're a little surprised they're revealing such a harsh opinion right off the bat.

[That's too bad! I've known some people that can be self-centered like that too. Sucks that you had to deal with that.]

[Nah its fine lol. U cant expect to meet much nice ppl in this industry. Then theres u.]

[There's me?]

[Yup. Ur a little too nice for this platform. :P]

You blink, a little perplexed by the random observation.

[You've never even talked to me outside of comment sections. 🤔]

[Don't need to im good at scoping ppl out. Thts why im talking shit to u, I trust u wont tell on me. 😘]

[I dunno… That's a lot of pressure to put on me. Withholding profitable tea for the sake of being a trustworthy person? 🫣]

[Lol cap. U dont even report hearsay like that nice try 💕.]

[Okay, you caught me. x) Your secret is safe with me.]

[U should add me on Snapchat its still firechicken22. I'll respond on it faster cuz thats the only app I dont have another acc on rn.]

Adding randoms on Snapchat is… dubious at best.

[Snapchat, huh? I have one, but I rarely use it. Are you a guy?]

[Lol yea. What u afraid im gonna send u dick pics? Im classier than that.]

[Hm… 🤔 Okay, I'll trust you. Adding you now.]

[Thx 🫰🏻. Anyway I'll ttyl. Got shit I gotta do. Night. 💤]

[Goodnight!]

You hook your phone up to its charger and bury yourself under the covers of your bed. Tomorrow you would do your morning classes and help at Vagastrom after. Then you'd inadvertently deal with your least favorite person on the planet– Leo.

Ugh.

—

“Oh, Alan! Your keys are falling out of your jacket.”

“Hm…?” The captain stops in front of your spot on the couch and looks down at his pocket. “...Oh.”

A few keys on his ring are spilling out of the fabric sleeve. It looks as if the bottom seam is hanging on by a few threads. You set your laptop to the side and stand to examine it.

“Looks like it needs a touch up,” You remark as you gently nudge the metal accessories back inside.

Alan nods. “Yeah. Must have snagged it on something when I was looking at the undercarriage of that truck.” The captain shakes his head. “I'll just switch it with my other one tomorrow.”

“I can fix it for you! I'm not the best at it, but I am capable of minor repairs,” You offer with a smile.

Alan returns a smile of his own, appearing a little meek. “That… isn't necessary. Aren't you busy right now?”

“I'm caught up enough!” You insist. “I even have an emergency sewing kit on me because I had to fix a tear this morning in class. It's no sweat!”

Alan shoots you a skeptical look. After a few beats he caves and removes his jacket and hands it to you. “Thanks. I'll get you a coffee.”

“I won't say no to caffeine!” You reply genially. Taking the jacket from him, you plop back down on the sofa and get to work. Alan makes his way to the door leading out of the garage and into the main section of the Vagastrom building.

“Wow, so that's suddenly part of your inspector duties, huh?”

Your eyes snap up to see Leo's. He's lying on the couch across from you, just as he was yesterday.

“Yeah,” You answer with a dismissive shrug as you begin to thread a sewing needle from your kit. “Alan is actually kind and cooperative. Unlike you.”

“Sounds like bias to me. Don't tell me you're mooning over that himbo?”

You roll your eyes and begin to adjust the torn pocket of Alan's jacket to make your first stitch. “Always jumping to conclusions. Let's say I was. How is that your business?”

You don't mean it. As much as you adore Alan, you don't know him well enough to have those kinds of feelings towards him. A flash of indiscernible emotion crosses Leo's face for a brief moment. It leaves as quick as it comes, and a mocking grin peels his features.

“Awwh. You wanna fuck him?”

You frown, barely sparing him a glance before returning your attention back to your project. “Don't be so crass.”

“What other conclusion am I supposed to draw? You do so many favors for him that you don't need to be doing and it's laughable.”

“Why do you care?” You ask, keeping your tone level.

“Care is a strong word. I'm just pointing out the obvious.”

“Why?” You press as you loop the needle through the pieces of fabric.

Leo's shit-eating grin turns tight-lipped the longer you grill him. “Because you bitch and whine about doing the simplest shit.”

“For you,” You correct coolly. “Try not being insufferable for a change. Besides, didn't you say Sho is your ‘slave’ before? Ask him to do it.”

Ever since the first mission you did with Vagastrom, Sho has been increasingly less patient with helping Leo. The vice-captain has noticed it too, judging by how his expression shifts to a noticeably irritated one after you make the comment.

“Get your eyes checked. Does it look like he's here, NPC?” Leo bites back rigidly.

You hum and suppress a smirk. “Wonder why that is? Maybe he's getting tired of your shit.”

Leo's eyes crinkle as he maintains his cheery facade. He turns his head forward and starts typing away at his phone. “Mmm, yeah. Maybe you're onto something. Guess I gotta get a new servant.”

“Guess you do.” You get the last word in.

The both of you sit in silence for the next few minutes. He texts away on his phone while you sew up Alan's jacket.

Right when you're finishing up the last few stitches, your phone pings, notifying you of a message. You ignore it for now to finish your task and it goes off a few more times after that.

“You getting spam sent to your email? Shut that off, it's annoying,” Leo complains without looking up from his phone.

You roll your eyes as you secure your last stitch and cut the thread. “It only pings for my texts, it will stop.”

For reasons unbeknownst to you, the vice-captain chortles. You ignore it.

“Should be good,” You murmur to yourself as you tug the pocket to test the durability. Deciding it's fine, you set Alan's jacket to the side and pick up your phone to check your messages. When you unlock your phone and pull down your notification bar, you see a few texts from Lyca. You click on one of them.

[(y/n) is it true?]

[that jerky guy thats mean to suba texted me..]

[he said you only hang out with me because darkwick makes you]

[and said that you think i smell weird]

You clench the phone in your hands with a dangerous amount of force as indignant fury builds in the pit of your stomach.

First things first, you text Lyca back.

[Block him, please. I said nothing like that, he's just being a child. I'll come over later tonight to help you study. Please, please, do not listen to him. 🙏]

You stand up, drop your phone to the side, and march over towards Leo. The conniving sack of shit is grinning from ear to ear with his attention locked on the screen in his hand. He's still typing out messages to Lyca, judging by what you can see of the profile picture. Somehow the dumbass still doesn't notice you approaching.

You reach over Leo's shoulder and easily yank his phone from his grip. The vice-captain flits his gaze upwards, the amusement on his expression only becoming more obvious.

“Fucking asshole,” You growl. From a quick glance, you notice that he sent far more than what Lyca reported to you. Without hesitation, you erase the message Leo had started to type out and then delete Lyca’s contact information.

Leo moves to get to his feet and you instinctively take several steps back. “Aaawh, you mad?”

“You wanted my attention that badly, Kurosagi?” You taunt. If not for the influence of anger, your tone would ideally be more unbothered. You're only giving this pipsqueak what he wants, after all.

“Yeah, real bad.” Leo holds out his open palm. “You deleted it right? Give it back, NPC.”

You let out a taunting laugh. “Fat chance.”

Without missing a beat, you spin on your heel and bolt in the opposite direction, Leo's phone in hand.

“Hey…!”

The garage is big enough that you can run around without getting cornered if you do it meticulously. You didn't have a plan other than you knew you wanted to get back at the scheming rat. Leo's feet stomping against the concrete could be heard at your tail as you speed around the perimeter of the garage. You knock over a few stools to trip him up and even mistakenly shoulder check another nameless Vagastrom student in your haste.

“Watch it!”

“Sorry!” You yell back without turning around.

“Can't run for long, Honor Roll!” Leo grabs at the end of your skirt's uniform, but you somehow manage to slip away just in time.

Unfortunately, he's right. As annoying as Leo is he's still got more stamina and agility, being a ghoul and all. You're now on your second lap around the room and the only reason he hasn't caught you is because of the stuff you keep knocking over in front of him. Regardless, you had to exact your revenge somehow– even if you get caught in the process. Making a split-second decision, you run for a nearby bathroom and fling open the door, before promptly slamming it shut behind you.

And there it is. A urinal filled with someone's leftover, unflushed, piss.

Committing to your act of tyranny, you fling Leo's phone into the dirty urinal. You watch as the device clatters against the back of the ceramic before fully submerging into the sewage water.

The door opens behind you and Leo skirts to a complete halt when his eyes land on the urinal ahead.

“...”

The vice-captain lets go of the door, allowing it to hinge to a close on its own. You feel your stomach drop from the silence that follows.

You intend to assess his expression, until the wind is suddenly knocked right out of you, and you're being shoved against a nearby wall.

Leo grabs your face roughly in one hand, while his other rests flat against the tile next to you. He's smiling, but it's completely devoid of warmth. His golden eyes bore into you so frigidly that it sends a chill down your spine.

“Now you've fucked up, (Y/N),” Leo says, his voice oozing contempt. “I didn't back up my recent data and I won't be the one to fish that out.”

You attempt to jerk your chin out of his grip, but he's surprisingly strong. Your hands move to the wrist that's holding onto you. “Let me go, piece of shit,” You manage through your pinched cheeks. “You deserve that and more.”

“How about you get it out for me, hm?” Leo narrows his eyes at you, his thumb dragging roughly over your bottom lip, exposing your teeth in the process. “I'll dunk you in headfirst and you'll catch it with your mouth, kay?”

You glare daggers at him, showing no indication of folding. “I can literally knee your balls and end this in two seconds, don't try me.”

Leo opens his mouth to speak, but then the door flies open yet again.

In comes Mido, a sight for sore eyes.

Alan frowns when his eyes land on the two of you. He wastes no time grabbing the vice-captain by the shoulder and pulling him backwards. “What the hell are you doing, Kurosagi?”

Leo loosens his grip on your face as he's drawn away from you. He grimaces, his lips peeling back as he attempts to jostle Alan's hand from him. “Fuck off, Himbo. This isn't your business.”

“It is,” Alan corrects. His gaze softens when his eyes meet yours. “What's going on, (Y/N)?”

You move yourself off of the wall and hastily begin your explanation. “Leo messaged Lyca lying about all sorts of mean shit because I won't do his petty bidding. He's an asshole! Now Lyca’s upset, so I threw Leo's phone in the urinal.”

Alan nods calmly, seemingly unsurprised by the revelation. His eyes redirect to the urinal that held the phone. “Sounds like Kurosagi instigated, as I expected.”

Leo bares his teeth and jerks away from Alan. “...Fucking simp.” You watch as the vice-captain barrels past him, exiting the bathroom in a huff.

“S-Sorry for the trouble,” You apologize meekly. “I'll clean up what I threw around out there.”

Alan shakes his head. “Don't worry about it. You're supposed to be helping us and he's causing problems with other houses.”

“But still… You're always so understanding. Thanks, Alan.” Your lips curl into an appreciative smile. “I finished sewing your jacket, it's on the couch.”

“Thank you, (Y/N). I appreciate it.” Alan smiles softly back at you. He hands you a canned coffee that you didn't notice he had until now. “Why don't you leave early today, so you can focus on whatever mess Kurosagi created?”

Alan's so sweet. A stark contrast to Leo.

“Yeah, I'll do that. Thanks so much.” You bow politely and accept the coffee from him. “And thanks for this.”

The Vagastrom captain nods and opens the door, gesturing for you to leave first.

As you exit the bathroom and head back towards the couch you notice that Leo is nowhere to be found. You wonder if he's going to pay someone to get his piss-soaked phone out of the urinal or just take the L.

Whatever, he probably has insurance on it anyway.

–

You don't get back to the cathedral until late in the evening. With all that had happened with Leo, you decided to spend your day with Lyca. Thankfully, your werewolf friend was understanding of the situation, because he knew enough about the Vagastrom vice-captain from Subaru.

By the time you're showered and settling in your bed to catch up on social media news, you receive a Snapchat notification from firechicken22. You open it.

[U doin research for ur next vid?]

[Yeah, how'd you guess?]

[Research takes time n its late. :P Best time to do it. Assuming ur in a similar time zone to me?]

Your time zone is the same as Tokyo, even though you're technically separated from it– being in Darkwick and all. You decide to go with that.

[I'm in Tokyo.]

[Lol same kinda. I dont live far from there. I figured cuz ur dialect.]

[Small world. 😊]

[Gonna stream soon so help me pick my outfit. Which one?]

You receive two images. Both are of firechicken22 standing in a full body mirror, but the pictures are cut off from the shoulder up. One photo he's wearing a denim, bright yellow, jacket, with patches of random black lettering. The other is a black color block jacket with a white hoodie underneath. Both are kind of grungy looking and stylish.

He's lean and has thin hands, you notice.

[Hmm… Do you usually wear more dark colors or bright ones?]

[Both lol. But ig my bright is usually in accents not full pieces.]

[Then do the yellow jacket. Spice it up.]

[I'll take ur word for it. I still got an hour b4 I go live so lets play a game.]

A game…?

[Okay, Jigsaw. What kind of game? 🤔]

[Would u rather. U dont post much about urself so I think itd be fun lol.]

You don't exactly have anything to hide. If you were to get more questions about yourself that aren't indicative of your identity, you'd answer them. So far, firechicken22 is the first to ask you to do something like this.

[Sure, why not? Any boundaries I should know about?]

[Nope what about u?]

[I don't think so. I'll just tell you if I don't want to answer it.]

[K u go first. :P]

The one who asks to play insists you go first, huh?

You look up a template on Google and pick something random.

[Alright I found one to ask you. Would you rather be poor but fun or rich but boring?]

[Um def dont wanna be boring. I'll do poor but fun cuz I can just marry rich.]

[Opportunistic, I see.]

[A dog eats dog world lol. My turn.]

[Go ahead.]

[Would u rather hit pause or rewind on ur life?]

A deep one, huh? Well with the Kyklos curse…

[Pause.]

[Interesting lol. Any reason?]

[Does ‘Would You Rather’ require explanations? 😏]

[Guess not. :P Ur turn again.]

[Would you rather give up all the memories, or money you made this year?]

[Def memories. 💴]

Firechicken22 is opportunistic and values money. Not that you can really blame him. It all depends on circumstance anyway, and you don't know his.

[Fair enough.]

[Would u rather have more time or energy?]

[Energy, I'd say. Can't seem to have enough.]

[Lol thought u would say that.]

The two of you trade questions for the next hour. It becomes obvious that firechicken22 really is trying to get to know you. And it's too soon to tell if he's genuinely curious, or if he is trying to coax your identity out of you. As far as you're concerned, there isn't much to gain in doing that because your following isn't that big.

So, maybe he's just a fan. Regardless, you don't intend on revealing anything too personal.

After the umpteenth question exchange, firechicken22 announces his plan to depart.

[Its been fun stranger but i gotta start my stream :P]

[Yeah, you're fun to talk to. Maybe you can send the link to your stream next time? 😌]

[Wanna c me that badly? I dont blame u~]

[I'm curious. But if you're streaming this late I'd be listening rather than watching. I do have morning classes, after all.]

[U go to university?]

Darkwick is kind of like a university, so you'll go with that. You certainly don't plan on revealing the name, though.

[Yeah. Do you?]

[Yup. Maybe I'll let u know who I am soon, or I'll let u guess if u dont recognize me.]

[Take your time, because I can't say when, or if I'll ever show my face to you.]

[The thought crossed ur mind? 😘]

[That's only natural if you bring it up, you know.]

[R u cute?]

[Hideous. 💩]

[Somehow I doubt that lol. Anyway gtg fr now. Nite~]

[Goodnight.]

Once you end your conversation with firechicken22, you realize it's already very late. Your research will have to wait until tomorrow, you decide. You tuck yourself in under the covers of your bed and plug your phone in its charger.

Tomorrow brings another day at Vagastrom. Hopefully Leo leaves you alone.

–

“Here's the ingredient list. Mind helping me gather it, while I find my phone? Pretty sure I left it in my room.”

You are talking to Sho in the kitchen at Vagastrom. Leo sits in a stool at the other end of the kitchen island, eating a bowl of ramen that’s notably bright red. You can only assume it's the extra spicy Buldak noodles he always buys. The vice-captain hasn't said a word to you so far.

“Sure. This is for the curry bread?” You ask as you glance over the sheet of paper.

Sho flashes you a dazzling smile. “Sure is. I'll be right back. In the meantime, I'm sure Leo can direct you if you have trouble finding something.”

“Riiight,” You say sarcastically, your eyes darting back over to Leo. He doesn't look up at the mention of his name.

Sho snickers and pats your back twice before leaving you to it.

You grab the list and begin searching for the ingredients. First you grab the cold items on the list from the fridge, since that was the easy part. Milk, butter, and ground beef. Then the vegetables, spices, panko, and sugar. The only thing you're struggling to find is the yeast and flour. You search the pantry and even open and close a bunch of cupboards. When you're not successful after the second search, you audibly curse.

“Looking for something, Honor Roll?”

Your attention snaps to Leo. His phone is resting on the counter and he's propping his head in his hand, eyeing you with newfound interest. The bowl of ramen is pushed to the side for now, with his chopsticks resting over the top of it.

“...Flour and yeast,” You answer reluctantly.

“Cupboard above the fridge,” Leo answers readily.

You glance up at the fridge and let out a sigh. It's particularly large. Who the hell decided it was a good idea to put a common kitchen ingredient all the way up there?

Leo must be drawing the same conclusion as you because he speaks up again. “That stool by the window is taller than the other ones. Could use that.”

You relocate your attention to said stool. It was out of place and looked like it belonged to a set of furniture that no longer exists in Vagastrom. Regardless, he's right. It is taller. Deciding you'll take his advice; you walk over to it and drag the piece of furniture all the way to the fridge.

Leo sure is being helpful today, all things considered. Maybe he regrets being a douche?

You climb on top of the stool and stand on your toes. It's high enough that you're able to easily open the cupboard above. You instantly spot the yeast and several large bags of flour when you do. As soon as you shift your weight and get your hands around what you need, you hear the stool creak painfully.

“...”

Cautiously, you settle backwards with the ingredients in your hand. Much to your dismay, as soon as you rest your heel onto the cushion of the stool, you hear a metal object clatter to the ground.

And then it tips.

“Shit…!”

You lose your momentum as the chair sways, and you unceremoniously crash to the ground on your side. The bag of flour in your arms bursts open and you're suddenly coated in the white powder.

“Pffft…”

…That snicker.

You drop the bag and the yeast, then lift your now aching body into a sitting position. Your eyes find Leo's. His phone is pointed towards you as if he's recording a video.

Leo tilts his head as a devious grin splits his delicate features. “Smile for the camera, NPC.”

Your blood boils.

“You did that on purpose,” You accuse, much more calmly than you feel.

“Me?” Leo poorly feigns a perplexed expression. “Naaah, I don't tinker with chairs.”

You grab a fistful of flour and get to your feet, making a beeline for him. “You knew it was broken, don't fuck with me.”

Leo lifts himself from his stool, the seat sliding back audibly as he does. You watch him shove his phone underneath the waistband of his pants just as you're stopping in front of him. “Ah, ah. Not this time, Honor Roll.”

“You seriously think that's going to stop me at this point, Kurosagi?” You move your hand to fling the flour in his face, but Leo catches your wrist before it can do too much damage. All the same, the powder falls from your fingertips and onto the front of his clothes.

He just laughs, though.

“That all you got? Flour is an easy clean up,” Leo taunts, thoroughly entertained.

His hold on your wrist is firm enough that you can't move it. You dart your other hand forward and go for his waistband, but he captures the other just as easily.

“Delete it,” You demand, unwavering.

Leo steps backwards as you continue to advance towards him, despite the restriction of your arms.

The smile doesn't leave the vice-captain's face. “Nah. You don't get to cost me a pretty penny to recover data and also make demands. That's not how it works, Princess.”

“How is it that you get to push people around however you want and expect no repercussions?” You protest angrily. “We were even, if anything!”

Leo raises an eyebrow and scoffs incredulously. “Even? As if you could get even with me.”

You grit your teeth at his delusional nonchalance. “You must be far too used to people pandering to you, because you're on another level of entitlement!”

Leo doesn't have time to reply before you catch your right leg behind his and push forward with all your strength. As you had hoped, Leo loses his balance and falls backwards. Unfortunately, his hold on your wrists stays secure and you end up tumbling with him.

The second he hits the ground, his grip loosens enough that you're able to tear your arms from him. You waste no time sitting up to straddle him. Your left hand grips the band of his pants while the right dives for the phone inside. Swallowing any embarrassment from the action, you find it resting against the side of his thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. By the time you pull it out, you realize he's not fighting you anymore. A slight pink tinge adorns his face, yet he still sneers at you.

“Wow, pervert much?”

You ignore him and look at his screen, which miraculously is still unlocked. Clicking on the gallery, you browse the recent shots.

There is no video, only recent selfies he's taken.

You narrow your eyes at him. “...You were bluffing.”

Leo sticks his tongue out. “Looks like you felt me up for nothing, freak.”

Heat rises to your face. “T-That's totally your fault, idiot! As if I wanted to!”

Without warning, Leo sits up, causing you to slide into his lap. He grabs his phone from your hand and his gaze lands on your wrist.

The vice-captain blinks in surprise. “...Where'd you get that bracelet?”

The sudden question throws you off guard. You glance at the bracelet he's looking at. A unique gold pressed flower bracelet that you got from Kimyou. It’s a pre-order that hasn't been released yet, but the company gifted it to you because of your sponsorship. Leo must know this company, so his confusion is understandable.

“I…” You lick your lips nervously, fumbling for an excuse. “Have a friend that works there.”

You feel Leo's eyes on you and you reluctantly meet his gaze again. He stares at you for a few beats, his expression unreadable.

A short laugh escapes him. “Send me their info, I want a brand deal.”

Phew. Looks like he believes you.

“Not a chance,” You retort.

“Am I interrupting something…?”

Your attention relocates to the doorway. Looks like Sho’s back.

“No, you're saving me. NPC tried molesting me, can you believe that?” Leo lies, feigning a pitiful tone.

The cogs in your head turn and you belatedly recall that you're straddling the whiney influencer.

You scramble off his lap and get to your feet.

Sho places a hand on his hip, shooting his vice-captain a skeptical look. “I don't believe you.”

Leo stands and brushes himself off. “That's ‘cause you're no better than the himbo.”

Sho seems to take notice of the state of the kitchen and gestures towards the fridge, his expression bewildered. “And what the hell happened here?”

“You're looking at the work of this clutz,” Leo fibs, jabbing his thumb in your direction.

“Bullshit,” You argue. “He told me to use that stool and it's broken!”

Sho gives Leo a precarious look. “C’mon man, you knew that was broken. You owe me another bag of flour.”

Rather than arguing, Leo just shrugs and makes his way towards the counter. “What a whole five-hundred Yen? Worth it.”

“Clean it up, at least,” Sho demands.

Leo pulls his bowl back in front of him and picks up another round of noodles with his chopsticks. “Nope. I wasn't the one who spilled it.”

Sho frowns. “Are you being for real? I'm not making (Y/N) do it. She's gotta be bruised to shit from that.”

Leo noisily slurps up his noodles. He takes his time chewing and swallowing before replying again. “Sucks to suck.”

Sho browbeats Leo with a hard stare as he continues to eat. The vice-captain stares at him back with an unbothered expression.

“...”

Sho gives up after a few moments and lets out an exasperated sigh. He makes his way over to the broken stool and picks it up to move it out of the way. “...One day someone's gonna beat your ass and I won't cover for you.”

Leo ignores him and pulls out his phone, setting it on the counter to find something to entertain himself while he finishes his food.

Sho grabs a broom and dustpan that's hanging on the wall and begins sweeping up the flour.

“Hey, let me help,” You offer, making your way over to him.

Sho laughs and shoots you a dubious look. “After the demon here nearly caused a concussion?”

Leo begins loudly playing a video that has a familiar instrumental on it. You talk over it.

“But I technically spilled it,” You point out.

Sho shakes his head as he collects a pile of flour with the broom. “Don't sweat it. You didn't hit your head did you?”

“No, I'm okay! Just a little bruising.”

You nearly jump out of your skin when the audio of someone speaking on Leo's video reaches your ears. It's a voice you're all too familiar with.

The voice modulation for your Vtuber avatar.

Sho scoops up a sizable pile of the flour and dumps it out into a nearby trash can. “Once I clean up I can show you how to make the dough. It's super simple.”

Sho does a brief explanation of the process of making the curry bread dough, but you're far too preoccupied with Leo watching one of your videos right in front of the two of you to pay attention.

Is Leo a fan of yours? It seemed unlikely. You could only imagine the kind of shit he'd say about Vtubers. He always had some negative commentary about people that didn't show their face online when it came to hate.

“...Sound good, (Y/N)?” Sho asks.

The sound of your name snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah… sounds good,” You answer, your gaze still locked on Leo.

The vice-captain doesn't seem to notice your staring. With his eyes trained on the screen of his phone, he abruptly rises from his seat, taking the bowl and chopsticks with him. You watch him throw the tableware haphazardly into the kitchen sink, without rinsing it, before he leaves the room altogether.

Sho finishes up sweeping the last of the mess and dumps it in the garbage bin. “Alright, let me wash my hands and we'll get started.”

“...Yeah.”

–

So, Leo watches your videos.

When you get home later that afternoon, you spend time putting extra soundproof foam up in your room. The issue is, it's not foolproof against Leo's stigma unless you cover every inch of the walls and you only have so much. You decide you'll just continue to make an effort to record on rainy days, if at all possible. Even if Leo happens to over hear, you could just say you were watching your videos, right?

All you know is that he's the last person that should find out about your identity. You can only imagine how much he would dangle that over your head to get you to do his bidding.

Once you dress down and get cozy on your bed, you start doing research for your next video again. Not even an hour later, firechicken22 sends you a message on Snapchat.

[Omg did u see that kodiakmiller started more drama?]

[I was actually just reading an article on that.]

[U probably can already guess but half the shit she says is complete bs. That bitch just virtue signals 2 get attention.]

[I kind of figured that based on the patterns of behavior. I'll keep that in mind when I record.]

You watch firechicken22 type for a little longer than usual before another message comes in.

[Am I the only influencer u talk to?]

[Would you be jealous if I said no? 😏]

[Lol nah. I would tell u to be cautious w em tho cuz most r two faced.]

[And you're an exception?]

[No lol.]

[...At least you're honest about it, I suppose. Should I worry about you doxxing me? 🤔]

[Nah. If I wanted 2 kno ur identity I could find out if I rly wanted to.]

[Oh? You're a tech guy?]

[Thats one way to put it lol. Anyway i already shit talked ppl ik to u. If u wanted u could easily blackmail me. :P]

[Do you talk to influencers outside of collabs?]

[Nah. Just you. 😘]

[Influencer is a generous word for me, haha. Anyway, why me?]

[Hm…]

You watch the ‘typing…’ text pop up again as you wait for an explanation.

[Bc u couldnt b more different than me ig]

[Really? We seem to have stuff in common.]

[Lol ur so cute]

[🤔]

[Anyway meant 2 ask. U got anymore brand deals w clothing companies?]

[Only a newer brand called modflavor. I should be receiving mail from them within the next day or two.]

[Wanna put in a good word for me w Kimyou? 🥺🩷]

That feels familiar. Where have you heard that before?

[Wouldn't I need to know your identity for that?]

[If u knew would u do it? :P]

[I don't see why not. The worst they could do is not reach out.]

Firechicken22 stops messaging for the moment. So, you continue your video research for the time being. Maybe two minutes later you receive a Snapchat, but this time it's an image. You open it.

Skin is the first thing you notice– clear and pale. An exposed collar bone, exposed torso in general. He appears to be posed over the edge of a tub. Your eyes wander up towards firechicken22's face. Soft features, gold eyes, gray hair, smug grin, cute.

Your phone slips from your grip and comes crashing against the bridge of your nose. But you don't even register the pain.

You've been messaging Leo?!

Did he know it was you? Was he just fucking with you? Some of your exchanges with him even bordered on flirtatious. And you admittedly had been having fun messaging him.

… But it wouldn't make sense that he knows, because he's been talking shit about other creators on the platform. And Leo also knows you've been trying to find a way to get back at him for all the bullshit.

…

And maybe this would be the perfect opportunity.

Leo seems to like your content because it's a condensed and unbiased way to consume news. And for whatever reason he seems to like you as a person. But it's not like you act any differently in real life, so why the sudden flip of a switch when you're a stranger?

Another message notification rings audibly. You pick up your phone to view it.

[Heeello…? Don't tell me u have beef with me lol.]

That's right. Snapchat notifies when you open messages and it's probably been a solid two minutes since you've viewed his photo. You decide you'll play dumb.

[No, sorry! I was just trying to recall your name! ☺️ I know I've seen your content around. You're Leo Kurosagi, right?]

[Yup]

[No wonder you're interested in fashion, you always look so stylish. 😊]

[Thx u do too lol 💕]

[That's only because of the brand deals, haha. Don't worry, I'll put a good word in for you with Kimyou. 😊🩷]

[Ur the best 😘. I'll give u a shout-out on my next stream. 🫰🏻]

[Thank you. 😇 You're kind of sassy on your streams, but I feel like I've seen a sweeter side of you through text messages.]

Laying it on thick.

You sometimes watched Leo before you ever came to Darkwick, but never recently. Not since you learned how self-centered he really is.

[Wow, u down bad for me already?]

You would have assumed before the face reveal that firechicken22 is just teasing. But knowing Leo, he's probably egotistical enough to actually think that. You decide to let him have the compliment he's probably fishing for.

[You're very cute, but I'm not swayed that easily.]

[Give it time I could change ur mind 😏]

Why's he being so forward? Leo seems like a shallow person and he doesn't even know what you look like. It could be that he's just toying with you.

[Pffft, we'll see about that. Anyway, I'm going to do more research before bed. Unfortunately I'm a little behind. I'll talk to you tomorrow, Leo. 😊]

[Boooo. 😮‍💨 K I'll ttyl.]

[Goodnight!]

You close the Snapchat app and work on sending an email to Kimyou regarding Leo's recommendation. Afterwards, you'll plot your next move against the sneaky influencer.

–

A couple days pass. You and Leo talk over Snapchat every afternoon and into the evening, while your in-person interactions remain unpleasant as usual. Your text conversations become more personal as you learn more about each other. Leo divulges details about his family and upbringing– things you've never been privy to before. He also asks you a variety of things whenever he wants to keep the conversation going.

You wonder if he really doesn't talk to anyone in his private life like this. Sho seems to know him best, but their interactions are more impersonal, even when Leo isn't treating him like a servant. In a weird way, you feel honored that he seems to trust you enough to confide in you about the little things.

Unfortunately for Leo, that didn't change the fact that you still held a grudge towards him and his reign of terror.

You still had yet to decide how you're going to get back at him, though. It wouldn't be through exposing anything incriminating of him online. Leo knew his way around a computer and you're sure he could identify you anytime if he really wanted to. He would only be more inclined to expose your secret if you did something to alter his reputation.

No, you had to think bigger.

Would it be possible to get him attached enough that if you ghosted it would hurt him?

…It's an idea.

Three days after the night you found out Leo's identity, your modflavor package arrives that afternoon. Since you've got a decent outline of news highlights, you decide it would be a good time to record a video and add a sponsorship segment.

It's a rainy day, so you don't have to sweat the off chance that Leo's lurking around.

You record the news part first to get it over with and then take a short break to message back Leo.

[Ughhhhhh i hate the rain]

[Really? I find it relaxing.]

[It's noisy 😒 wyd?]

[I'm recording! My modflavor haul came in, so I'm about to try stuff on.]

[Fr? Show me.]

You take a photo of some of the outfits lined up on your bed and send it.

[I'm not going to wear all of these, though. The slip dress looks like it'd be revealing if I can't find anything to put under it.]

[Try it on n I'll let u know]

… Leo wants you to take a photo in it?

He did send you a photo in the tub for his reveal didn't he?

It's probably against your better judgement, but you change into the dress.

As you suspected, it is a little revealing. It's a deep red color with a low collar that exposes a decent amount of cleavage. Overall, the dress hugs your body in a flattering way.

Making sure to move your hair out of the frame, you sit on the bed cross-legged and take several photos from the neck down. In a burst of confidence you pick the sexiest looking one and send it.

It takes a minute, but Leo replies.

[Need more angles than that. :P]

… Did he, though?

You get up from the bed and walk over to your wooden full-body mirror hanging on the wall. Leo's never been in your room and has no reason to be, so you're not worried about him recognizing your surroundings. In spite of that, you very carefully take more photos of your dress at different angles without showing your face, or much background. You send them afterward.

[Looks good on u. 😘 If u got a black turtleneck and black belt wear it.]

You hate the way your heart skips a beat.

[I'll look! So it's a no go if I can't find them?]

[Yep it will look cuter accessorized. I can even send u some stuff.]

[Oh, like links?]

[No like literally lol]

Leo's offering to get you stuff?

Totally unexpected, but either way you'll have to decline. When packages are sent into Darkwick, they all use a similar address. The campus cats make the deliveries to the dorms from there using the student's names.

[I don't have a PO box set up yet. I'm sure you understand! The thought is very appreciated, though. 😳]

[Lmk when u do]

[You're sweet when you want to be. 🥰 I'll talk to you here soon, I've got to finish recording.]

[I'll watch when it drops]

[A dedicated fan. 🤭]

[Not to mention one of the first lol]

Really…? You'd have to fact check that, but you do recall seeing his screen name a while back.

[I'm flattered. 🥺 🫶]

[U should be :P]

You're pretty sure you might have the items Leo mentioned in your wardrobe, but you decide not to wear that dress for the video. The filming of the try on haul doesn't take long, but you spend some time editing it and end up uploading late.

Leo texts you goodnight before you ever manage to get back to him.

–

Over a week goes by before you have any notable in-person interactions with Leo.

Subaru invites you to eat lunch with him on a bench outside Sho’s food truck. The both of you ordered beef soboro.

You open the still warm container in your lap as you sit to the left of Subaru. “Looks as good as it smells!”

“It does,” Subaru agrees wholeheartedly. He breaks the poached egg on top with his chopsticks and begins mixing it. “He always goes the extra mile with the garnishes, doesn't he?”

“Mmmhm, it's no wonder he's gotten so popular.” You break your disposable chopsticks apart and glance up at the long line forming outside the truck. It's a good thing you guys came early.

Subaru nods and tilts his head in your direction. “It's been a while since we've been able to sit down and chat like this. How have you been faring? Anything new?”

“I've been good. Not a whole lot has happened recently.”

Not that you can talk about anyway.

“At least I'm not subjected to the demon this week,” You add.

Subaru's expression turns sympathetic. “Ah, yes. He was causing you some problems last week, I heard. I'm sorry you had to go through that, he can be very…” The Hotarubi Captain looks towards the food on his lap as he searches for a delicate way to put it.

“A piece of shit?” You offer bluntly, as you mix your own food.

Subaru laughs. “I wasn't going to say it, but… there is no gentle way to describe it.”

“Yeah, I've certainly never encountered anyone like him in my life. He's seriously one of the most self-centered people I've ever had the displeasure of knowing,” You rant bitterly. “How does one even acquire such a rotten personality?”

“Well… perhaps trouble with homelife growing up. Maybe some level of neglect, skewed ideals, or lack of positive reinforcement,” Subaru suggests coolly.

You wonder if that is the case. Leo told you about his family over Snapchat, but not anything inherently indicative of neglect.

The Hotarubi Captain continues. “Although, some people have a lack of social empathy without any direct cause. I don't want to make any baseless accusations, but there are some people that bully others due to suppressed feelings of inadequacy. They may even try to keep people at an arm's length, so they don't have to deal with the complications that come with forming attachments.”

The hand holding your chopsticks stills.

You consider the complexities behind the idea for a brief moment. It’s a lot to unpack for baseless speculation and the last thing you want to do is feel sorry for the jackass. “...I don't think that jerk can form bonds like a normal person anyway. He's a lost cause.”

Although you've been flirting with him over text and becoming a friend of his anonymously, you don't anticipate him getting that attached. If you ghosted him today, you're certain he'd be petty and angry for maybe a day before moving on. Even then, it would be over a bruised ego, not a lost contact.

“Perhaps you're correct. You know him better than I, after all,” Subaru replies with a smile.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while to eat your food. At some point you open up your phone and scroll funny Instagram reels. You find one that makes you laugh out loud, piquing the captain's curiosity. So, Subaru can get a better view of your screen, you scoot closer on the bench to watch together.

While the two of you begin yucking it up, you fail to notice another student approaching you. You're in the middle of a particularly amusing reel involving a cat with the zoomies, when someone abruptly wedges in between you and Subaru.

“--Hey…!” You yelp.

“Geez NPC. Didn't you see my jacket at the end of the bench?” Leo jeers as he settles himself on the seat, effectively ceasing your interaction with Subaru. “I had this spot saved.”

You frown, barely sparing a glance at said jacket before glaring daggers at the vice-captain. Instinctively, you scoot back so your thighs aren't up against Leo's. “Saving spots? What are you twelve? If it was that important, you wouldn't have left it!”

Subaru scoots to the other end, appearing a little meek at the new development. “O-Oh! Hello, Kurosagi. How are you?” The captain forces a smile.

Leo's eyes shift to Subaru and he gives him a look that can only be described as bitchy. “Oh, it's you,” He says, as if he hadn't noticed the captain before cramming himself on the bench. Leo equips a fake smile of his own, but it's far icier. “Wow, you're so desperate that you're kicking it with this nobody? Your looks must not be enough to keep the baddies interested. That skittish personality of yours is kind of a turn-off, I guess.”

Subaru's jaw goes slack at the casual verbal assault. The captain's cheeks turn red as the insinuation settles in and his violet eyes dart towards the ground. “...Say what you want about me, but (Y/N) is very interesting and pretty.”

Your cheeks flush at Subaru's words.

“...Hah. Eat shit, Leo,” You manage, internally swallowing your embarrassment.

Leo looks at you and his lip curls back in disdain. Surprisingly, he doesn't acknowledge your taunt. Instead, he returns his attention to Subaru. “By the way,” Leo starts, his lips pulling into a tight-lipped, saccharine, smile. “I passed that werewolf kid on the way here. He's standing at the front entrance of the academy and he's looking for you. Said something about his voice command password for his ipad not working? I'm assuming it's ‘cause whatever he was trying to pronounce sounded like gibberish.”

Subaru's face falls. “Again?” The captain sighs and closes up his unfinished container of food before standing. He shoots you a skeptical glance. “Would you mind if I go check on him?”

You shake your head fervently. “No, it's okay! Take your time!”

Subaru's lips curl up pleasantly. “Okay. Maybe we can try again on Monday?”

“Sure! Sounds good to–”

“Ugh, just go already, will you? If I hear any more of this sappy shit I'm going to barf,” Leo complains as he looks up from his phone to sneer at Subaru.

“Leo!” You bark in irritation.

Subaru waves his hands in a placating gesture. “N-No! It's fine (Y/N), truly. I'll message you.”

Before you can say anything more, Subaru is scurrying off.

You turn your head to glare at Leo. “What the actual fuck is your problem?”

The vice-captain leans back on the bench with his legs stretched out, as he taps away at the keyboard on his phone. “What?” He plays dumb, not sparing you a glance.

“Why were you being a dick to him? And did you actually run into Lyca?”

Leo shrugs. “I just told the truth. Except for the werewolf thing.”

Your eyes narrow. “...You lied to make him go away?”

“Who knows?” Leo responds dismissively.

Deciding you lost your appetite; you close your container of food. “...Funny. Almost seems like you're jealous.”

“Of him?” Leo scoffs, jumping to the conclusion. “As if there's anything to be jealous of. He's only relevant to a select community of people.”

You roll your eyes. “That's not what I meant.”

Leo's brow creases. His gaze slowly shifts back to meet yours. For a split second you swear he looks miffed, but he quickly recovers with another fake smile.

“...You?” The vice-captain throws his head back and barks out an obnoxious laugh. “Be fucking for real, Honor Roll. You're not even a little close to meeting my standards.”

You squint at him suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Homely, boring, a buzz kill, useless, annoying.” Leo holds out a finger every time he lists a new insult. “Uptight, brainless, a clutz, obvious surface flaws.”

He's literally just spewing shit now. Somehow, you're not that bothered by it for once. But if Leo's so insistent on you being inadequate for him, you decide you'll begin your revenge arc starting tonight. You wouldn't want to disappoint him if he knew the truth, after all.

Sike.

“You know what? I could say the same for you. You're far below my standards too. I don't need to list the reasons, everyone knows you're insufferable,” You quip rigidly.

Leo sticks out his tongue childishly. “At least I can get a date.”

“Oh? Well, Subaru asked me to go out with him next weekend on an off-campus trip,” You divulge.

Leo rolls his eyes. “And what? Do a mission? Hardly an advance.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “Well, he referred to it as a date.”

A fib, really. Subaru did invite you out to a theme park because he already had business in the area and wanted to spend time together. Lyca even managed to get a permit to come along, so it couldn't be considered a date. You don't clarify that, though.

Leo’s lips twitch faintly. After a few seconds he rises from his seat. The vice-captain pockets his phone and turns heel but pauses to spare you a parting glance. “Good luck with all that. Make sure to wear a full face of makeup. It's the only way you'll stand a chance at keeping his interest, uggo.”

“Uh huh,” You respond, your tone unimpressed.

Just as Leo's leaving, you notice the jacket he mentioned earlier on the edge of the bench. It's white with blue patches on the elbows. Without warning, you pick it up and toss it at him. A sleeve wraps around his shoulder, just barely hanging on for dear life. He grabs the fabric before it drops to the floor and examines it curiously.

“Your jacket?” You say.

“...Yup,” He confirms belatedly.

Leo doesn't put it back on. You watch him sling it over his shoulder as he exits the scene.

–

Later that evening, you text ‘firechicken22’.

[Hey. Are you going to the Sumidagawa festival? I know it's popular with influencers.]

[Maybe lol. All depends.]

[On?]

[Are u going?]

[Depends.]

[??]

[Do you want to meet up with me, if I do? 😊]

You knew that Leo had a good chance of getting the permit to leave for it, considering he's vice-captain. For this event, a lot of permits were being granted to Darkwick students that have been proactive with missions. You even were offered one for this festival because of your hard work lately. Of course, you didn't intend on actually going.

[Yea I do. Meet up w me in the afternoon. The fireworks show doesnt start til 7 but we can visit stalls.]

[Oh, you really want to? 🥺]

[Yep wanna c u irl 🙈💕]

Ugh… why is this sociopathic demon randomly cutesy?

[You might be disappointed if that's the goal.]

[Nah I wont be lol]

[Hah. What makes you so sure?]

Leo types for a little longer than usual before getting back to you.

[Well if u were a total catfish id still b ur friend lol]

This is a side of Leo that you're totally familiar with. He's unapologetically admitting that you may not fit his standards in appearance. There's no doubt in your mind he's genuinely expressing some level of romantic interest here.

[Implying you're into me? 🤔]

[Thought i made that obvious lol]

[...Obvious isn't a word I'd use to describe you, haha. You type with a lot of hearts when responding to comments too. And you're a bit of a shit talker, so I wasn't sure.]

[I dont talk to ppl online a lot like this. Ur the first.]

And you believe that. You're sure now that Leo doesn't talk to any one person as frequently as he has been with you the last two weeks.

Oh, well. You're still going to ditch him.

[Me neither! But it's been fun. 😇 I'll text you tomorrow, okay? I'm probably going to fall asleep here soon.]

[K 🩷]

[Goodnight. 😴]

–

“Kaito…? What are you doing here?”

It's the afternoon of the fireworks festival and you're in the casino VIP room helping resolve scheduling conflicts for Romeo on his laptop. Kaito just walked in wearing the official wait staff uniform. He's holding a silver tray filled with drinks in one hand and the door with the other.

“(Y/N)?” Kaito blinks, seemingly perplexed by your appearance. His face flushes pink and he averts his gaze. “I uh… that psycho said I could pay back some of my debt if I helped him out today.”

You nod in understanding. “That tracks.”

As much as you want to sympathize with Kaito, he's really just digging his own grave by actively borrowing money from Romeo of all people.

“So what are yo– Hey…!”

Taiga shoulders past Kaito, grabbing a drink filled with brown liquid from the tray as he passes. He makes a beeline for the couch you're on and a toothy grin splits his face when he spots you.

“Hey, it's the kitty cat~”

Taiga plops down not too far from you and takes a swig of his drink. He haphazardly sets the glass on the edge of a coaster. You watch it begin to tip, so you hastily lean forward and adjust it properly to avoid a spill.

You can only assume he recognizes you right away because you passed him earlier.

“Hey, Taiga,” You greet him, before your gaze relocates to Kaito.

The blonde walks in your direction and sets the silver tray of drinks on the coffee table in front of you. “Uh, Lucci asked me to walk him here…” Kaito explains nervously, his blue eyes darting from Taiga and back to you.

The captain is already distracted and leaning forward in preparation to shuffle a deck of cards.

“Were you winning too many games again?” You ask the Sinostra captain in a playful tone.

Taiga clicks his tongue. He tents the corners of two cuts of the deck together in a riffle shuffle. “Somethin’ crawled up his ass today. I wasn't gonna listen to him bitch anyway.”

“I understand.” You glance back up to Kaito. “You still owe Romeo from the last time?”

Kaito furrows his brow and lets out an exasperated sigh. “I had the money, but I left it in my jacket, and I can't find it.”

“That sucks. Maybe it's somewhere obvious,” You suggest. “Did you try retracing your steps?”

“I tore apart my room already. Last place I remember having it was outside Sho’s food truck on the bench.” Kaito rakes a hand through his hair in distress. “Checked there yesterday though, no luck.”

“I was just there yesterday during lunch! What did it look like?”

The blonde gives you a piteous look. “White with blue patches.”

…Isn't that what the jacket Leo took looked like?

“Anyway, it's good seeing you (Y/N). I'm gonna get back to work before that guy starts spamming me.” Kaito flashes you an upbeat grin and waves, before pivoting to leave.

“See you later!” You call back.

You redirect your attention back to Romeo's laptop. That is, until your phone pings multiple times at your side.

You slide down your notification bar and can't help the grin that tugs at the corner of your mouth as you catch Leo asking about your whereabouts. You don't open the messages.

Today is a good day.

“Kitty, play blackjack with me.”

You turn your attention to Taiga, your lips pulling into an apologetic smile. “Romeo asked that I adjust his staff schedule for him and I'm not quite finished.”

“Do it later.”

“If he walks in and catches us when I'm not done, he's going to have a cow,” You reason.

Taiga deals you two cards anyway. “Nah, he's brown-nosing a big shot right now. ‘Sides, I won't tell if you won't.” The captain throws a wink your way.

You can't help but express amusement at his antics. Deciding to entertain him for the moment, you set your laptop aside with your phone and scoot closer to the table. “I'll need a refresher on the rules though. And no betting real money.”

Taiga reaches forward to grab his drink again. He takes another swig of it, before dropping it back on its coaster, this time centered.

“Fine by me. We got time.”

–

You stay at the casino until around seven in the evening before heading back home in the pouring rain. It's a good thing you remembered to bring your umbrella with you. The thought crosses your mind that tonight would be a good time to record a video.

Leo didn't continue to message you after the first string of texts, and you still had yet to open Snapchat. The fact that he didn't seem that desperate for your attention helped you feel less guilty about the whole thing. Not that you felt bad…

Leo's ego is probably just slightly bruised, and he'll get over it.

Once you enter the cathedral and make your way up the staircase, you immediately notice several strange things. The door to your room is cracked open and the lights are on. And you couldn't hear it downstairs because of the rain and the soundproof foam you have up, but music is playing audibly too.

…Who the hell could be in your room?

The only person to ever enter without warning was Jiro. And he wouldn't be here at this time– certainly not blasting electro-pop music.

Should you call someone to scope out the building? Is it safe to enter?

A familiar voice reaches your ears and it's enough to dissipate any looming sense of dread that had settled in your gut seconds before. You decidedly march to the top of the stairs and fling open the door to your room.

A body lays sprawled out on your couch, reading a book that's inadvertently concealing their face. You recognize the paperback as one of your manga volumes that had been collecting dust for some time. Not a second after the door makes contact with the wall, the book lowers.

Shit.

Leo smirks and tosses the volume carelessly on the coffee table in front of him. For reasons unbeknownst to you, he's wearing a set of headphones despite the music playing in the background. The vice-captain leisurely sits up and pulls them down to rest around his neck. He reaches for the stereo remote and lowers the music to where it sounds like a quiet lull.

You hear yourself gulp.

“You're out late, huh?” Leo's jaw shifts like he's chewing something.

Maybe he doesn't know. Act normal.

You frown and manage a steady tone. “What the hell are you doing here, Kurosagi? And how'd you get in?”

“You left it unlocked, duh,” Leo replies, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “And I just wanna talk, that's all.”

You slowly walk over to a nearby end table and set your keys down. “I never leave my door unlocked.”

Leo's eyes crinkle at the corners, his lips curling into a delighted smile. “No? You sure did this time.”

You narrow your eyes at him and redirect the topic. “What do you want to talk about? Make it quick, I'm tired.”

Leo rises from his spot on the couch. You instinctively take a step back and almost hit the wall, despite being on the other side of the room. If he noticed, he doesn't comment on it.

“I was just wondering about your friend that works for Kimyou,” The vice-captain explains innocently, his hand moving in an animated gesture. You watch him walk around, his eyes shifting to different areas of the room. “They got socials?”

You cross your arms over your chest, making a point to stay where you're at. “Even if they did, I wouldn't tell you.”

“Why not?” Leo walks up to the back wall and prods at a piece of foam hanging up. A red sphere of gum inflates from his mouth into the size of a tennis ball before bursting. “I thought we were just starting to be chummy too.”

“That's a crock of shit and you know it. I can't stand you. Also, don't move that!”

“Relax, NPC. I was just looking at the type of acoustic foam you have up. It's good quality, I've used this brand when I lived in a studio apartment.” Leo raps his knuckles against the textured surface and his gilt eyes meet yours again. “You sure have a lot of it, though. What for?”

Your stomach churns uneasily. “...Isn't it obvious? Your nosey ass snoops around all the time.”

Leo tents his brows, his expression skeptical. “Just for me, huh? This quantity can't be cheap for a regular Darkwick student.”

“I have savings,” You counter, holding your ground. “Anyway, you asked what you wanted. You know where the door is.”

“I still have more questions.”

“They can wait until tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Because I'm not in the mood. You came in unannounced!” You near shout as your patience wavers.

“Exactly. You would have been way more assertive with escorting me out if it were as simple as that,” Leo accuses as he steps a little closer to you.

You hold your position, unmoving. “What are you implying?”

“While you were out, I took the liberty of doing a little digging.”

Leo knows.

You roll your eyes in an attempt to hide your crumbling nerves. “Digging? What are you on about?”

“Where to start…” Leo taps his chin thoughtfully. Following a brief pause, his features brighten, like he had an epiphany. “Did you know that even if you use a VPN, if you have access to your location enabled on other devices it's sort of a dead giveaway? You should, if you're posting online and all.”

Fuck.

“Posting online?” You feel the palms of your hands begin to sweat. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I had my suspicions when I saw that bracelet. Not to mention every time that you've posted recently, it just so happens to be when it rains,” The vice-captain takes a few steps closer, until he's only a few meters away. Placing a hand on his hip, his eyes scan ambiguously over your form. “And those photos you sent me? You didn't even notice that you caught the beginning stages of bruising on your leg, right after your little tumble at Vagastrom. Then of course, there's that tacky looking mirror in here that’s a carbon copy of the one in the photos.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Your voice betrays you by cracking.

“Oh come off it! You're caught red-handed, so don't act all shy on me now.” Leo laughs derisively. “Tell me why you sent me those suggestive photos. Was it to seduce me? I really didn't think you had it in you. I mean, that takes guts considering how unappealing you are in real life.”

And suddenly you remember just why you took it this far.

You ball your fists up at your side as anger buries any and all feelings of disquiet. “Yeah? If I'm so unappealing, then why have you even entertained talking to me, dumbass?”

Leo squints at your comment, his phoney cheerful demeanor not faltering. “Maybe I just felt sorry for you. You ever consider that?”

“You're full of shit, Kurosagi. If that were the case you wouldn't have told me so much personal stuff or even messaged me in the first place!”

Leo pauses, giving you a sideways look. “All that personal shit may as well be fabricated. I could have been playing you the whole time.”

“I recognized that screen name of yours when you messaged me. You've been a viewer for months, so I don't buy it,” You argue. “What do you even hope to gain by coming here?”

“What made you decide it was a brilliant idea to ask me out just to ghost me?” Leo throws back at you, deflecting the question.

You clench your jaw. “I asked first.”

He scoffs. “Like I care.”

An exasperated sigh escapes you. “Obviously it was to get back at you for being an asshole!”

“Oh?” Leo raises an eyebrow, his expression tickled. “You think you hurt my feelings? That's rich, Honor Roll.”

“What did you really come here for?” You try again. “If you found my IP, it's irrefutable. So what's the point? And don't even try to blackmail me either, because I got shit on you too now, Kurosagi!”

Rather than deflecting with more insults, Leo shifts his stance and stares at you like he's deliberating something. After a few beats he speaks.

“Okay, I'll bite. Let's say I enjoyed your company. Maybe even though I suspected your identity a few days into chatting, I wanted to test the waters. So maybe I didn't bother verifying.”

Your stomach flips when Leo begins to saunter towards you. Unconsciously, you find yourself taking another step back.

The vice-captain stops two feet away from you, his jaw moving visibly as the gum shifts around in his mouth. His lips are tinted red and a little swollen, like he just got done eating something hot. A bitter smirk paints his soft features. “I wanted to see if you'd actually show. And when you decided to ditch without a word, I wasn't entirely surprised. You knew I had the means to find out your identity if I wanted to.”

You did know there was a possibility he'd confront you. The idea wasn’t intimidating enough to stop you from doing it.

“Almost like you wanted to fight with me about it.” Leo's eyes crinkle with mirth as he tosses a cat-like grin your way. “Fess up. Do you like our little disputes, Honor Roll?”

The teasing tone he uses inadvertently sends heat crawling up your neck.

You consider the question. It's not like it's one that hasn't crossed your mind before. Some part of you finds the conflict entertaining, but not when he involves Lyca or any of your friends. And his mean comments do get under your skin sometimes… But could you rightfully say you hated him for it?

“I could ask the same thing to you,” You reply with a smirk of your own. “You're the one bringing it up, maybe it's projection.”

“And what if I do think it's fun?” Leo admits readily. “Judging by your reaction, I think we're on the same page.”

The vice-captain takes another step towards you and loops an arm around your waist. You suck in a sharp breath of air as his free hand cups the side of your neck and his thumb brushes against your throat.

“H-Hey…!“ You press your palms instinctively against his chest, but for reasons you can't pinpoint, you don't shove him away. His cologne swarms your senses– earthy and a little floral. The sudden, non-hostile, proximity makes you feel a little dizzy.

Rain begins to pummel relentlessly against the roof. It's so deafening that if Leo wasn’t so close, his next words might be difficult to pick up.

“I guess you're not half bad now that I get a better look at you. It's a shame you've got the personality of a wet blanket,” Leo drawls, with a notable lack of animosity in his tone.

Your nerves catch on fire when his hand shifts to cup your jaw unexpectedly.

What the hell is he doing?

Leo's grip isn't restricting your movements by much. In fact, you're sure you could get out of this if you really wanted to. Why did his hands have to feel so soft? The warmth he's radiating is so inviting that you're tempted to lean into his touch. Maybe the cold weather is influencing this senseless feeling.

“...Yeah, you should find it really embarrassing that you carried an ‘NPC’ through so many lengthy conversations,” You bite back, your fingers curling against his shirt. “It must have been like talking to a brick wall.”

Leo's thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “Why do you think I'm really here? I need to make sure you keep that info under wraps somehow. A gossip blog highlighting that loser shit would ruin my reputation.”

“Pffft…” A snicker bubbles up from your mouth from his banter. “Wait until they hear about you touching up on me too. That would be so humiliating.”

“Oh, well.” Leo smirks. “I'll adjust the narrative in my favor.”

Thunder claps outside, loud enough that objects in your room shake with the reverberation.

The abruptness is enough to startle anyone out of their skin, but for some reason neither of you move. Maybe it's because your heart is hammering in your chest so violently that you hear it over everything else. And you might be mistaken, but you're pretty sure you feel Leo's beating just as desperately through the fabric of his shirt. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his gaze lingers on your lips, but he seems to be hesitantly dancing around an idea.

You're not sure how the two of you ended up in this predicament, or why he's even reacting like this. What you do know is that Leo's unusual display of nervousness is fueling your own ego for once. You decide to voice your hunch and accept the inevitable repercussions.

“I must not be that unappealing if you're staring at me like that. Don't tell me that after all that shit talking you’ve never kissed anyone?”

Leo's brow creases in annoyance. “Of course I've kissed people before, just not–...” The vice-captain cuts himself off and averts his gaze.

Now, that's a look you could get used to.

“...Just not?” You press in amusement.

Leo huffs, his eyes meeting yours again– this time with determination. “Ugh. Just shut up, Honor Roll.”

The vice-captain leans in, slanting his mouth at an angle and you accept the advance. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips meld into yours.

Butterflies stir in the pit of your stomach as you return the kiss. And despite the well anticipated crash landing, his lips are quick to move against yours with urgency– robbing you of the courtesy of easing into a rhythm. Seeing as how everything with Leo has always been an uphill battle, it's nothing you weren't used to.

You adapt, reciprocating with an intensity that mirrors his own. A tingling sensation begins to linger around your mouth the longer the kissing continues, but it's so mild that you dismiss it unthinkingly. Leo's arm tightens around your waist, and you're pulled right up against him. You decide that the plush feeling of his lips on yours is one you could easily get addicted to.

At some point Leo separates, just barely. His fingers dig into your cheeks, and he regards you with a half-lidded gaze.

“Open,” He demands, his hot breath ghosting over your lips.

The sudden verbal request throws you off guard. Your first instinct is to question him, but you fold after a brief standstill. His tongue delves past your parted lips, and you feel the metal bar of his piercing clack noisily against the back of your teeth. The inflamed sensation you felt earlier only gets stronger as the kiss deepens, to the point where you decide to break away. Just as you're preparing to jerk your face from his, the vice-captain pushes the wad of gum he was chewing into your mouth.

You involuntarily catch it between your tongue and the roof of your mouth to prevent yourself from choking. It's only then that you realize what the burning sensation was from, as the center of your mouth catches on fire.

Leo's hand grazes your upper thigh right as you're extending your palms forward to push him away. The second your mouths disconnect, your hand covers your own, and you start coughing violently from the overload of capsaicin.

The vice-captain laughs obnoxiously at your expense as he steps back from you.

“LEO, COUGH…! WHAT THE…COUGH…! FUCK IS THAT?!”

Tears well up in your eyes and you bolt for trash. Leo continues speaking, but you're too focused on getting the gum out of your mouth to actually listen.

“Carolina Reaper flavor. Pffft, you look so red! Ahahaha…!”

Once you spit the gum into the garbage bin, you immediately head for the sink and fill a nearby glass with water. As you chug it, you remember the hard way that water can exacerbate inflammation, but your options are woefully limited right now. You stand at the sink for a while, drinking a couple of glasses until the sensation dissipates to a manageable level.

Following your recovery, you flip around to reprimand Leo, only to find him perched on the edge of your bed with a phone in his hand. The harsh words you had intended to throw at him die in your mouth when you notice the case of the phone. You pat your now empty pocket to confirm your suspicions.

That idiot had the gall to take your phone too?!

“What are you doing with that?” You hurry towards him as mild panic sets in.

Leo kicks his shoes off and slides farther back onto the bed, as if to give himself a few seconds longer to finish whatever it is that he's doing. “Just removing evidence, chill out.”

“Evidence?!” You repeat impatiently as you stop in front of the mattress. “Give it back.”

Leo plops his head down on one of your pillows. “Two seconds.”

“What the fuck do you mean two seconds? No!” You climb onto the bed and grip the edges of the case to pull it from him.

Thunder cracks outside again, but this time it takes the power with it. The lights in your room flicker for a split second, and then the room goes black entirely. You and Leo blink at each other in surprise, your faces illuminated somewhat by the natural light coming in through the window.

You sigh, your grip loosening on the phone in defeat. “Fuck. This is your fault.”

Leo scoffs. “The weather? Wrong vice-captain.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “My poor luck. I was going to record today.”

A weather alert notification rings loudly from your phone. You slide next to Leo to peer at the screen.

“Severe thunderstorm warning until midnight,” You read aloud. “The campus cats will promptly work to recover the power back in the dormitories. Darkwick staff strongly advises students to remain in their respective buildings for the time being… Shit.”

Without warning, Leo peels back your comforter and settles underneath it, making himself right at home. “Aaawh. Looks like you're stuck with me. Poor you.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, I could keep you downstairs too.”

Leo's lips pucker into a pout. “After getting the privilege to kiss me? Show some gratitude.”

“You spit hot ass gum into my mouth,” You deadpan.

“It's not even that hot. Not my fault you can't handle it,” Leo retorts.

You stare at the vice-captain for a moment. He looks cute cozied up under your sheets. For the time being, you forget about him messing around on your phone. You realize how confused you still are by the random shift in his actions. “...Why did you kiss me, though?”

Leo rolls on his right side and props his head in his hand as he looks up at you. “‘Cause I felt like it.”

His statement is resolute, yet still leaves more questions than answers.

You shake your head tiredly. “You're so confusing, seriously. Everything you say and do contradicts itself.”

“Maybe you just suck at reading me.”

“Or maybe you do it so I can't.”

The soft accusation makes Leo shut up for a few moments. His expression remains unreadable, and your phone still limply resides in his free hand.

“Get under the covers with me,” He demands, blatantly diverting the topic.

You feel your cheeks turn pink at the sudden request. “Nice cop out. I'm not going to do anything until you tell me exactly what you deleted on my phone.”

“I told you– evidence. Just anything that indicates I'm connected to that burner account.” Leo shrugs.

You raise an eyebrow at that. “I wouldn't have told on you. And you better not rat me out.”

Leo smirks impishly. “It's cold as shit in here, Honor Roll. Get under the covers and your secret is safe with me.”

You click your tongue and stand up to peel back the comforter. “Fine. But it has to be permanently safe if I agree now– no backtracking.”

“Cross my heart~” Leo assures.

You browbeat him for a moment. Once you determine he's being sincere, you slip underneath the covers next to him and prop your head up on a pillow. “I'm taking this back, though.” You grab your phone in his hand, and he lets go without a fight.

“Have it your way,” Leo acquiesces.

You begin checking your apps for any signs of tampering besides what the influencer admitted to. As you flick through tabs, you feel a weight settle against your chest. You redirect your attention to find Leo shamelessly cuddling up against you, his arm looping around your waist.

It's… stupidly cute.

Rather than drawing attention to it, you bury your muddled thoughts to resume the task at hand. You look around for a little longer and determine that Leo had indeed only deleted some messages. He probably knew you wouldn't really do anything anyway. Almost everything he did to annoy you ended up being a ploy for attention.

A message notification pops up from Subaru and you click on it.

[… Kurosagi?]

Huh?

There’s a text beforehand from Subaru and then one sent from your device.

[Hello, (Y/N)! I hope you're in your dorm safe in this weather. I just checked the forecast for next weekend and there is a high chance that it will be storming Saturday. Do you have any plans for Sunday? 😊]

[Sry bozo i have plans. 🤥 Dont bother asking me other days either. 💀 Mayb if sho feels bad 4 u he will cancel service so u dont have 2 contest a refund 🤣🤣🤣]

“Leo, what the fuck?”

A ghost of a smirk appears on the vice-captain's face. He doesn't need to ask what you found. “Hmm?”

“Do NOT text people on my phone without permission. Now I have to apologize! You being here at this time of night is going to look weird, you know?”

“You going on a date with a guy after making out with me is even weirder,” Leo counters, not bothering to lift his head. “He shouldn't be messaging you this late anyway.”

You did tell him it was a date when you were shit talking to each other. But you really don't have the energy to explain all that right now.

You type out a quick apology text to Subaru and set aside your phone.

Having Leo this close to you felt foreign, but it certainly isn't unwelcome. The cold rain harshly pelting the roof of your poorly insulated room feels even more serene when there's a warm body nestled against you. You experimentally run your fingers through Leo's hair to test the waters. A pleased hum reaches your ears amongst the ambient noise, wordlessly inviting you to continue.

You're not sure how your relationship with Leo will be after all this. Romantic? That's something you can't really picture. Not in the traditional sense.

You got yourself a little too involved with Darkwick's most difficult and bratty ghoul. Now you'd have to navigate the consequences that follow.

#tokyo debunker #fanfic #fan fiction #leo kurosagi #leo kurosagi/reader #leo kurosagi x reader

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