#this definitely didn’t just happen to me

[munson-blurbs]

Steve Harrington x Female!Reader x Eddie Munson

Summary: Eddie and Steve are always arguing about something--this time, it's about their sexual abilities. Good thing you're there to referee. Loosely based off of this thought from the other night.

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), m x f x m, oral (f! receiving), fingering, light praise, masturbation (m!), unprotected p in v, handjob, semi-public sex, Reader wears a skirt, brief allusion to public exhibitionism.

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie and Steve were arguing again. 

That wasn’t out of the ordinary; just last week, you walked into work to hear them debating “the most bangable” non-human cartoon character: Rosie the Robot from The Jetsons or Chatta from Pink Panther and Sons. 

Most of the time, you were able to ignore their nonsense. When it got to be too annoying, you’d kick Eddie out or threaten Steve with the task of cleaning out the breakroom fridge. 

Either way, you and Robin generally let the boys duke it out while you gossiped and rewound VHS tapes. 

You could already tell that today was different as soon as you saw Robin listening intently and smirking between the two men. She never paid attention to them—not even the time they argued over the superior cheese to use for grilled cheese sandwiches. 

“That’s not possible,” Eddie was saying, shaking his head in disbelief. “Five times? No way.”

“What can I say, man? I’m that good.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly. “She even said I was the best she ever had.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t count if she’s a virgin.” She met Eddie’s hand in a high-five, much to Steve’s chagrin. 

“Trust me, Linda was not a virgin.” He grinned. “And she definitely isn’t one now.”

You wrinkled your nose as you pulled on the forest green Family Video vest. “Do I want to know what’s going on?”

Three answers arrived simultaneously: “No,” from Robin, “Hell yes,” from Steve, and “Just more of Harrington’s bullshit,” from Eddie. 

“Consider my interest piqued.” You rested your forearms on the counter. The only thing that got you through these monotonous shifts was gossiping with your friends. 

Eddie huffed out an impatient laugh. “King Steve thinks he made a girl come five times last night.”

“I don’t think it. I actually did it,” Steve rebutted. “Just because you’ve never even made a girl come once—”

“I’ll have you know that these babies do more than just strum a guitar.” Eddie wiggled his fingers. 

This time, a fake-retching noise accompanied Robin’s eye roll. “That’s my cue to leave.” She punched her time card and started towards the door. “But for what it’s worth, I don’t think either of you are the Casanovas you claim to be.”

Steve’s brows wrinkled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t think either of you dinguses could find the clit if it had an arrow pointing to it,” she called over her shoulder before turning to you. “Godspeed, soldier.”

You saluted her and reached for the pile of returned videotapes waiting to be reshelved, but Eddie’s hand grabbed your wrist before you could even take one.

“Can you just tell him that no woman comes five times in a row?”

“I could, but I’d be lying.” You shrugged and plucked Carrie from the top of the pile. “Have these been rewound yet?”

But your tidbit had Eddie staring at you, wide-eyed. That was your mistake—you should have ignored his question entirely. Whatever, you were in it now. 

“I thought that only happened in por—” he started, the tips of his ears turning pink when he realized what he’d said aloud. “I mean—”

“Relax. It’s not like I don’t know your rental history.” You gestured to the computer. “Unless XL Sausage Delivery for Lola is actually about pizza.”

Steve let out a belly laugh, far too cocky for someone who is most likely lying about his own escapades. 

“That being said,” you continued, looking at Steve, “I highly doubt that you made her come five times. Maybe twice, tops. And that’s being generous.”

You didn’t have any proof of Steve’s sexual abilities—or inabilities, for that matter. But based on your own experiences, no man had the patience to make his woman orgasm five times before he even came once. 

It was enough for Eddie to throw out a haughty “ha!” towards Steve, who promptly retaliated by flipping Eddie off. You took the opportunity to bring some of the tapes into the back room to be rewound, leaving the boys to their spat. 

“Hold on.” Steve barrelled through the door before you could even start rewinding the first VHS. “You really don’t believe me? Or are you just fucking around!”

You didn’t take your eyes off of the rewinder as you answered, “I believe that you believe you made her come five times.” 

Eddie’s shit-eating grin remained plastered on his face. “Sorry, Harrington. Looks like it’s two against one.”

“I can prove it.” Steve blurted out.

You raised your brows, not quite sure if you wanted clarification, but curiosity got the better of you. 

“What? Are you gonna try to make me come?” You snorted, but a serious expression quickly replaced your smile when he nodded. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Look, all I’m asking is for you to let me give you one teensy-weensy orgasm. Or a gigantic mind blowing one.” Steve shrugged. “It’s your body.”

Before you could reply, Eddie cleared his throat. “And then, uh, I get a turn?”

“Why would you get a turn?” And why were you still entertaining this? “If you two are so determined to prove that you can give someone an orgasm, why don’t you give one to each other?”

“Because we,” Eddie gestured between himself and Steve, “are not the ones with lady parts.” 

You considered their offers. It wasn’t as if you’d never fantasized about them touching you–though you could honestly say you’d never imagined one touching you while the other watched and waited for his chance.

The whole notion was utterly insane. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson were standing in the middle of Family Video and asking you, nearly pleading with you, to make you come. You could barely believe it was actually happening.

Yet here they were, waiting for your answer. As annoying as they were, you knew that if you turned them down, they’d respect your ‘no’ and find some other asinine topic to argue over.

But maybe you didn’t want to turn them down. Maybe you wanted to quell the need building between your thighs and let them take care of you.

You shook Fast Times at Ridgemont High out of its case and popped it into the rewinder, but you didn’t press any buttons. “You have until this movie is done rewinding,” you said to Steve, swallowing the anxiety that caught in your throat. “After that, it’s Eddie’s turn.”

Steve nodded and ran his fingers through his perfectly-coiffed hair. His hand trembled slightly, as though he was caught off-guard by your acceptance.

“Yeah, that-that’s fair. You, uh, wanna sit down, or…?” 

You took a seat on the hardback folding chair that Keith had begrudgingly set out after months of begging him to let you sit during rewinds. 

Steve kneeled in front of you. “Can I take those off?” He gave a light tug on the nude pantyhose covering your legs, careful not to pinch your skin. 

When you nodded, he ran his hands up your thighs until they were underneath your denim miniskirt. He leaned in and pressed chaste kisses through the nylon; despite your nerves, your toes curled in your Doc Martens. God, he’d barely even touched you and you were already gone.

With the one brain cell that wasn’t focused on Steve’s lips, you asked Eddie to start rewinding the movie. You could only assume he did, because the next sound you heard wasn’t the button being pressed, but your tights ripping down the middle. 

“Sorry,” Steve said, though he didn’t seem apologetic in the least as he rucked your skirt up and kissed the wet spot where you’d already begun soaking through your panties. 

Given the time limit and the desire to prove Eddie wrong, you had assumed that Steve would be racing to help you cross the finish line. But he was all but wining and dining you, right thumb pulling your panties aside so he could lick up your center. 

“Shit.” The word came out with a shiver. Steve wasn’t just eating you out—he was full-on making out with your pussy. His lips wrapped around your clit as his tongue brushed against every nerve ending. 

He hoisted your legs over his shoulders and pulled you closer. There was no holding back; not when he was groaning and licking and kissing so loudly that the noises surrounded you. 

Another groan, this one less muffled, tore through your haze. You blinked to see Eddie palming at the straining bulge in his jeans, the other hand undoing his belt. 

Holy shit. Eddie Munson was jerking off to the sight of you getting your pussy eaten by Steve Harrington. 

Steve—he pulled back for just a second, his lips and chin shiny with your slick. 

“Pause the fucking tape.”

“W-What?”

“Munson wins. I don’t care.” Steve’s eyes blazed with determination. “But I don’t think I can stop just to prove a point. I wanna take my time.”

Eddie didn’t gloat like you expected. He kept one hand in his boxers, gripped tightly around his erection, while he clicked random buttons on the rewinder until the tape hissed to a stop. 

“And I want you to tell me how she looks when she comes for me,” Steve said to Eddie, who nodded in response.

For a while, the only sounds in the room were Steve’s tongue in and out of your pussy and three by separate sets of moans. His fingernails dug into your thigh, leaving behind crescent-shaped marks as proof that he was there.

You clenched around nothing as he circled your clit once again. More—you needed more—

“Fingers,” you managed through a jolt of pleasure. “Use—use your fingers.”

Steve hummed his approval and obliged, his middle finger stretching you deliciously. You’d noticed how thick his fingers were prior to tonight, but you couldn’t fully comprehend just how incredible they’d feel inside of you.

Your legs shook atop his shoulders as your orgasm approached. 

“I’m–I’m gonna–”

Eddie grunted, stroking himself while he found his words. “She’s so pretty, Harrington. So goddamn beautiful, oh, fuck…”

Maybe you would have been embarrassed by his compliments if you weren’t being hurtled towards release from Steve’s tongue and now a second finger, slightly curled and rhythmically pumping in and out of you. You barely made out his murmurs, catching the words every so often.

“Good girl–so good–tastes amazing–for me–”

There was no time for bashfulness. You threw your head back and called out his name. Were you shouting or whispering? Were you even saying anything, or were you only talking to yourself? From the feeling of Steve’s smile against you, you assumed it was the former.

He gently lapped up the mess you’d made before bringing your feet back down on the ground. The ground of Family Video. Where you worked. Steve Harrington just tongue- and finger-fucked you at your job, and from the looks of it, Eddie Munson was ready to take his place.

“Bend over the chair.” His voice was a commanding growl in your ear. 

The undone belt buckle clanged as he shoved down his boxers. His erection left a smudge of pre-cum on his Metallica t-shirt, and you had to hold yourself back from taking him into your mouth until he spilled every last drop.

Instead, you followed his very clear directions and positioned yourself over the chair. You hadn’t bothered to fix your skirt or panties from Steve’s turn, and Eddie audibly groaned when he realized you were already on display for him.

And Steve…the poor man was completely bricked up, hazel eyes blown wide with lust. After the pleasure he’d given you, it would be cruel to leave him without his own.

“C’mere.” You crooked a finger towards him and he took a step closer. “Lemme help you.”

“Y-You wanna…you wanna help me? I mean, yeah, of course.” He unclasped his own belt and straddled the chair seat, not bothering to hide his eagerness.

You nearly gasped when you saw him. His cock was longer than Eddie’s, though Eddie’s was thicker. Steve’s curved to the right, and your mouth watered at the prospect of your tongue tracing the vein that snaked down his shaft. If only your position afforded that.

Maybe next time, you thought. Would there be a next time? There was no way you could see both boys like this–that they could both see you like this–and just leave it at one night. Right?

The pondering only lasted for a hummingbird’s heartbeat before Eddie slid inside you. Thank God for the preparation from Steve’s fingers, because Eddie was big. 

“You’re so tight.” Eddie gripped your hips and delivered a swift smack to your ass, not hard enough to leave a bruise but still teetering between pleasure and pain. “Fuck, Harrington, why didn’t you tell me she was so tight and so fucking warm.”

“Why spoil the surprise?” Steve snickered, but his amusement was cut short when you wrapped your hand around him, leaned over, and spit on the tip. “Oh, Christ.”

You moved your hand in time with Eddie’s thrusts. Steve grabbed onto the back of the chair as you worked him, bucking his hips up and giving you total control. It was a stark contrast between the man who had eaten you out with such voracity that you thought you’d pass out.

Eddie wrapped his arm around you until his middle finger rubbed against your clit. The movement had you grasping Steve tighter–not that he seemed to mind.

“Holy shit.” Steve muttered, the swear hardly audible over the lewd noises coming from your pussy. You’d never been this wet before. You could feel your arousal dripping down your legs. “Faster, honey. There ya go, just like that…”

“She’s so good,” Eddie agreed, his own pace speeding up. “The way this ass bounces…Harrington, you’ve gotta take her from behind next time.”

So there will be a next time. Good to know.

Steve just nodded, a bead of sweat trickling down his jawline. He thrusted into your grip one last time before pulling away and kissing you. It was sloppy and rushed, his lips almost missing yours, but you still managed to taste yourself.

“Sorry, I just gotta–” He took himself in his own fist and stood beside Eddie, tapping the head of his aching cock on your ass. “I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come on your ass, okay, honey?”

“Mhm.” You bit your lip as Eddie slammed into you. His tells weren’t totally clear yet, but you had a feeling that he wasn’t far behind. Neither were you, if you were being honest–and you currently lacked the capacity to lie.

Steve let out a groan, his cum warming your skin while he chanted your name. Part of you wished he had finished in your hand so you could taste him the way he had you, but you certainly had no complaints about this option, either.

“Steve…Eddie…” You panted. “I’m close. Please, just a little more…”

A little more what, you weren’t exactly sure. There wasn’t much more you could take without completely eviscerating into a cloud of desire.

“Go look at her, Harrington,” Eddie said through wanton moans. “Your turn to see how pretty she is when she comes.”

And then Steve was there, tilting your chin so he could get a glimpse of you as you fell apart. “Pretty? She’s gorgeous.” He leaned in to kiss you once more, this time slowly and carefully. Like you were something delicate to protect. 

His tongue still held an essence of you, and the moment it touched yours, it was all over. You exhaled a choked whimper into his mouth as you reached your second peak of the night.

Eddie slammed into you, his body crumpling so his chest rested on your vest-clad back the second he finished riding out his orgasm. His heaving breaths tickled your ear before he pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your neck.

“You,” he started, nipping at your skin, “are in-fucking-credible.”

You loosened a laugh. “I could say the same about you both.” You stood up when Eddie did and fixed your skirt. “I’ll have to tell Robin that you both can, in fact, find the clit with no issues.”

“Yeah, but I found it from behind,” Eddie pointed out, tucking himself into his boxers and zipping his jeans. “Harrington was up close and personal. Anyone could find the clit like that.”

“Seriously?” Steve scoffed. “If we’re gonna do this, then let’s talk about how I made her come without having to use my dick. That was all mouth and fingers, baby.” 

You reached for your pantyhose before remembering that Steve had torn them in his quest for your pleasure. The last thing you wanted right now was to listen to another argument. While they weren’t watching, you slipped off your panties.

“Feel free to keep talking, boys. I’ll just be reshelving movies.” You shook the underwear in front of them. “Hope I won’t have to bend over to put them on the bottom shelf.”

--

[r-2-peepoo]

The entirety of Dracula by Bram Stoker is really just:

Dr Seward: I wish we could figure out what’s wrong with Lucy.

Van Helsing: I figured it out immediately but I’m just going to let you solve it yourselves.

Dr Seward: Or you could just tell us.

Van Helsing: Friend John :( I have known you for one thousand years and you have been one of my very good friends and best students :( Do you not trust me? Why do you not trust me, friend John? Have I ever given you a reason to doubt me? Do you not think I have a good reason for withholding vital information? :(:(:(:( Have faith in me, your very old and good friend.

Dr Seward: You’re right :(

Lucy: I love everyone so much and I’m going to tell them every day 🥰💕 also legalise polyamory wtf

Renfield: look at all my pets that I’m definitely not eating 🪰🪰🪰🪰

Dr Seward: What happened to all the birds I gave you?

Renfield, with a mouth full of a feathers: I have no idea.

Arthur: I think… I miss my wife… also how the fuck didn’t we realise Dracula’s house was right next door?

Quincey: I keep saying I’m not that smart but I’m the only one to immediately point out that something was actively taking Lucy’s blood. Brb need to go shoot a giant bat with a gun.

Mina: I am the only person keeping this shit show together. We literally would not have made it without me and no one who adapts my character seems to get that. Women are the heart of this story. I am the glue that binds this group together. I just want ONE MOVIE that understands that and values my intelligence, which is at the forefront of my character.

Renfield: I have an entire character arc but don’t expect any adaptations to show it.

Quincey: ok but what if… we shot Dracula with a gun??? Also stop fucking cutting me from all the adaptations.

Jonathan: has seen indescribable horrors, is a shell of his former self, will literally never be what he was before going to Transylvania

Dracula: oh Jonathan! 🥰🥰🧛🏻🧛🏻🥰🩸🩸🥰🥰

BONUS: everyone is constantly holding hands, especially all of the men, and talking about how they’re going to be best friends forever. The male friendships in this book are shockingly pure and the women are incredible. The Crew of Light are actually the only found family ever, I think.

[dollbrbie]

sae itoshi ʚ ɞ the morning

summary. after an eventful night out leaving your memory hazy, you wake up next to your ex boyfriend.

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹🪩♡

oh, you were embarrassed. sleeping with your ex after a night out was definitely not what you meant when you said you were gonna make some bad decisions tonight.

you feel the sun shining through your ex’s blinds, causing him to let out the sexiest groan you’ve heard before turning onto his back, getting a glance of you, “mornin.”

you give an awkward smile before covering yourself further with the covers, “morning.”

he pushes himself up, leaning onto his headboard before grabbing his phone to check the time, “how’re you feeling?”

why is he acting like he cares?

“i’ve been worse, i guess..”

he settles his phone back down, turning himself to face you, the veins on his muscular arms popping out slightly. god, he knew how to distract you.

“do you want me to order food for us? or i can make breakfast.”, he offers, his eyes flickering from your eyes down to your lips.

you frown, “what are you talking about?”

he pauses, “i’m talking about breakfast.”

you sigh at his words, rubbing your forehead in frustration, “no i mean, what do you think this is? why would you get us breakfast? we’re not together you’re not obligated to do that shit anymore.”

he’s silent for a moment before shrugging, “i dunno, we usually get back together when we end up like this.”

“yeah, well that’s not happening this time. this was a mistake, sae. we broke up for a reason.”

he smiles slightly, “you always say that.”

“i mean it this time. we can’t just get past what happened.”, you sigh. there’s no way you could get back with sae again, it was too draining. and after seeing him choose his career over you countless times, constantly invalidating how it made you feel, you just couldn’t do it. your last break up was way too messy.

“so you don’t miss me? you don’t even wanna try?”, he teases, knowing just how badly you did want that.

you shake your head at his blatant audacity, grabbing your clothes from the night before off his floor, positioning yourself in a way that would keep you covered as you slipped yourself back into your underwear and silken dress.

“what’re you doing now?”, he sighs, sitting up slightly.

“i just think it’s best i leave.”

“why are you being so dramatic? you know you’re gonna come crawling back either way.”, he says in his usual nonchalant tone.

you pause, “you really think i have that little self respect?”

“if you wanna put it that way.”, he continues, “i’m just saying, you’re not the kind of girl that stands on business.”

you wasn’t. and that’s what made his words even worse, sae knowing that he could have you back whenever he wanted. it hit you harder than you’d like to admit, rushing to get yourself dressed while holding back the tears that threatened to spill.

sae just rolls his eyes, not bothering to notice your glossy eyes, and not even bothering to stop you either, “whatever, i’ll just call you later, i guess.”

you didn’t bother replying, grabbing everything you had, not even uttering a word to sae, scared he’d hear the strain of your voice, and leaving his room. you already knew your way around his house, being here countless times during and after your relationship with him.

the door was unlocked, probably sae forgetting to lock it from how drunk he was when getting you both to his apartment, turning the knob where you finally gave yourself the grace to let out the emotions dying to fly out of your system.

and you couldn’t ignore the churn in your stomach when sae didn’t even bother to call you that night like he said he would.

navigation. series masterlist

© dollbrbie | don’t plagiarise or translate any of my work

[mr-tony-stark]

Tony watched Clint as he absorbed the information. He wasn’t expecting an answer yet.  This was a big thing and it could take a while to sort through feelings.  To just have a life goal pulled out from under him. And Tony did know Clint loved him and wouldn’t want to let him go. But if kids was that big an issue for him, then he should do it.

“Okay,” he said.  “I trust you.  But if that’s the choice you're making, and I promise, you don’t have to be definitive right now, but if it is, I don’t want to hear about it again.  I don’t want you to keep trying to talk me into it.  I don’t want it coming up in arguments that I because I didn’t agree to kids, I owe you something else.  This is it.  The door is closing on the topic.  Maybe and I do mean maybe there might come a day where I change my mind.  But if it happens, it’ll be with my own self reflection, not nagging.  And - I don’t count on it.  I’m forty-five, Clint.  I’m definitely not ready now.  I’m still getting used to being in a relationship.  I don’t want to be some geriatric father who dies before they reach high school.”

Clint took a breath and leans against the railing with his back and placed his hands on it and looked at him as Tony spoke. It was a hard question, and it was even harder when Tony saw himself the way he did, because Clint didn’t see him that way. “Even if you tell me not to tell you that you’ll be a good father dosent mean I’m not gonna tell you, Tony,” he spoke and looked down for a split second.

He saw two realities. One with him and Tony just traveling the world, partying, living their best life’s, being together no matter what. And he saw one with a kid, one that they had family dinners and had their farm where their kid would run across the grass towards them all muddy and needing a bath. Of course he wanted kids. But that wasn’t something he needed. It really wasn’t. He was quiet for a long time as he thought before he looked up again. “I’m fine without kids,” he spoke and nodded. “Our life together is going to be amazing with a kid or without. I don’t care,” he spoke sincerely and placed his hands on Tony’s shoulders.

“I want you, this, us,” he spoke and waved a hand inbetween them. “And that’s what I want. Kid or not, this is what I want,” he spoke sternly and nodding.

[svelish]

Reader owns a bakery in la and billies friend introduces her to the cafe and she meets billie when serving her and billie falls in love with her and they start dating (also reader has a british shorthair and ragdoll cats) and the media finds out and call her a gold digger ect

˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆

Los Angeles was always moving, always buzzing, but for you, the city slowed down at dawn. That was when you loved it the most—when the streets were empty, and the smell of freshly baked pastries filled the air inside Sweet Haven, your little bakery.

You never imagined your life would change because of a single customer.

It happened on a random weekday. Zoe, one of your regulars, walked in with someone new—someone you immediately recognized but tried not to react to.

Billie Eilish.

Even in an oversized hoodie and messy hair, Billie had a presence that filled the entire space. She glanced around with mild curiosity before her gaze landed on you, who stood behind the counter, wiping your hands on your apron.

"This place is dope," Billie murmured to Zoe before turning to you. "Hey. What’s good here?"

You smiled, keeping your cool. "Everything. But if you like chocolate, I’d go for the double fudge croissant."

Billie’s lips quirked up. "Sounds dangerous. I’ll take one."

That was the first visit. The first of many.

Billie started coming in every day, sometimes alone, sometimes with Zoe. At first, you thought it was just because she liked the pastries, but then Billie started lingering. Sitting at the counter. Stealing bits of cookie dough when she thought no one was looking. Flirting—subtly, but definitely flirting.

You tried to ignore the growing tension between them, but Billie made it impossible.

Then, one night, after closing, Billie knocked on your apartment door.

When you let her in, Billie shoved her hands into her pockets and said, "I wanna take you out. Like... an actual date. Not just here."

You raised an eyebrow. "You could have texted me that."

"Yeah, but then I wouldn’t get to see your face when you say yes."

And that was how it started.

Dating Billie was like being caught in a whirlwind. Some nights, they went on late-night drives, blasting music down empty streets. Other nights, they stayed in, Billie sprawled on your couch while your cats Mochi and Cloud used Billie as their personal bed.

Billie was different in private. Softer. Less guarded.

She loved the fact that you treated her like a person, not a superstar. That you didn’t care about her fame, didn’t ask for pictures, didn’t try to use her name to boost your business.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

One morning, you woke up to chaos.

Your phone was flooded with messages. Your bakery’s Instagram was a mess—full of comments, some sweet, but most... cruel.

"Gold digger."

"She’s only using Billie for clout."

"She’s a nobody. Why would Billie date her?"

And worse? Paparazzi started showing up at your bakery.

Your employees were overwhelmed. Customers were being questioned. It was no longer just your relationship being scrutinized—it was your entire life.

You tried to keep it together, but one night, after another wave of reporters swarmed outside, you sat on your couch, hugging your knees, Mochi purring beside you as if he knew you needed comfort.

Billie showed up a few minutes later, looking furious.

"I swear, I’m gonna find out who started this," she muttered, pacing the living room.

"Billie," You said softly.

Billie stopped, looking at you.

You swallowed. "Maybe… maybe we should take a step back."

Billie’s expression darkened. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No, I just…" you sighed, rubbing your temples. "I don’t know if I can handle this. The cameras. The hate. I love my bakery. I love my normal life. And now, everything feels…" You trailed off, voice breaking.

Billie crouched in front of her, taking your hands in hers. "Baby. Look at me."

You did.

Billie’s voice was low, steady. "I don’t care what people say. I care about you. And if you need space, I’ll give you space. But don’t push me away because of them."

You exhaled shakily. "I just… I don’t want you to have to defend me all the time."

Billie cupped your face, thumbs brushing against your cheek. "I will always defend you."

Billie didn’t let it slide. The next morning, she went on Instagram Live, looking directly into the camera.

"I don’t usually do this," she said, voice sharp, "but I’m pissed. The shit people are saying about Y/N is straight-up disgusting. She’s not using me. She’s not after my money. She’s literally the most hardworking person I know. Y’all need to get a grip."

It didn’t make the hate go away completely, but it changed the narrative. Fans started supporting you. Defending you. Even some news outlets corrected themselves.

More importantly, Billie never left your side.

A few weeks later, Billie walked into Sweet Haven like usual, but this time, she wore one of your bakery aprons.

You looked up from the register, amused. "What are you doing?"

Billie grinned. "Helping out. Gotta make sure my girl’s business is thriving."

"You can’t even make coffee."

"Then teach me." Billie leaned on the counter, smirking. "I learn best when you’re close."

You rolled her eyes but smiled.

The world could say whatever it wanted. The cameras, the gossip, the headlines—none of it mattered.

Because at the end of the day, Billie was still here. And she wasn’t going anywhere.

[tkwrites]

Hurt & Healing - Quinn Hughes x OFC

(Really, this whole gif set fits the mood for this fic)

Title: Hurt & Healing - Quinn Hughes x ofc

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts

Summary: When Quinn loses his temper and snaps at Sarah after a hard loss, she draws a previously discussed boundary. Upon realizing something definitely has to change, Quinn seeks out comfort and advice from his mom. The next morning, he and Sarah talk about why she’s so upset and what they both can do to make the situation better. 

Warnings: Highly emotional angst, swearing, slightly suggestive at the end. Quinn going to his parents for advice/help, intense discussions. Though the title makes it feel this way, it’s not really a hurt/comfort fic. It’s more of a hurt/lets talk it out and figure out how we can both be better fic. 

Word Count: 6,000

Comments: I live! This piece has been eating at me for almost six months, and I’m so happy to share it with you all. I had it mostly done for quite a while but kept getting pulled into working on other things. Then, life happened. 

I know it’s taken me so long to post a new snapshot, but I’m so excited for you to read it. 

If you enjoyed this, please let me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

I love Quinn and Sarah, and I’m constantly blown away that so many of you love them, too. More snapshots here.

Asks related to this piece can be found under the Quinn & Sarah Snapshots hashtag (there are too many, and they're too long to include in this post). 

Hurt & Healing

A Quinn & Sarah Snapshot

“I can’t Sarah, okay?” Quinn snapped.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew they were wrong. It wasn’t even this particular order of them. Strung together in this same way but spoken in a gentler tone, no one would have blinked an eye. 

As it was, with his voice so sharp, clipped and loud, she took a step back, expressions of disappointment, hurt and even a brief flash of fear flitted over her face as a sheen of tears pooled in her eyes, reflecting the city lights shining through the windows.

Fuck, they’d talked about this. Why couldn't he get his shit together? 

Instantly, regret gnawed at him, and the gusto dropped from his voice, “Sarah, I’m sorry.” 

Pursing her lips, she shook her head and turned away. 

He watched her ascend the metal and glass stairs, her socked feet hardly making any noise, feeling totally helpless. 

When she disappeared from sight, he covered his face with his hands. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” On top of a terrible game, now he’d lost it and shot himself in the foot at home. Again. 

Well, there was only one thing for it. 

Feeling like his feet were encased in cement, he dragged himself up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the bedroom door closed. What he didn’t expect was to find it locked when he tried the handle.

“Sarah?” 

Even though he could hear her moving on the other side, she didn’t respond. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, resting his forehead against the cool wood. “Please can I come in?” 

“No.” Despite trying to sound convincing, Sarah still heard her voice wobble. 

 Resigned, Quinn tried to swallow the sudden lump in his throat as he reset his mental expectations to sleeping in the guest room.

She’d told him this would be the consequence. After he’d snapped at her the third time, she’d sat him down to talk. She told him she understood why he was upset, but she didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his anger. 

He’d agreed right away and apologized profusely. He promised her it wouldn’t happen again. She told him she wanted to believe him and then told him what the consequences would be if this particular set of circumstances repeated themselves. Mainly that Sarah would likely pull away from him for a while. 

He just hadn’t believed she would have to go through with it. He’d been certain it wouldn’t happen again. He loved Sarah and never wanted to see her hurt. She didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of his frustration. Especially when what he was really mad at were the circumstances, and not anyone in particular, especially not her.

“Could you at least hand me some pajamas?” 

“There are clean clothes in the laundry.” It was a rude, harsh thing to say, but she didn’t feel much like being nice at the moment. It’s not like he’d tried to be nice to her. Not really. He hadn’t even made it five minutes.

She’d watched the game and saw how dejected he was at the end. How he’d sat at the end of the bench much longer than anyone else, staring at the sheet of ice as if it somehow might tell him what had gone wrong. She’d made her way home and changed, readying herself to comfort him after his grueling media duties — forced to relive the loss and the reality of an unhealthy roster over and over and over again. She planned to meet him with a bottle of gatorade, open arms, and whatever comfort show he wanted to watch as she held him.  

Instead he’d snapped at her. And it had felt like a punch to the gut. She’d actually thought he’d been listening, that he’d been taking steps to change.

The reality of his failure twisted like a knife. 

Oh, he’d really fucked this one. 

“Sarah,” he tried one last time, voice suddenly thick with unshed tears. His hands floated up to press into the door as if she might be on the other side, mimicking his motions, longing to touch him as much as he was longing to touch her. “I'm really sorry. I know you were counting on me, and I let you down.”

She sighed, feeling like they were going around in circles. These were nearly the same words he’d used the week before. “Quinn, we can’t keep doing this.” 

“I know.” Her words sent panic spiking in his chest. Please, no. She couldn’t be done. He didn’t know what he’d do if she broke up with him. Life was hard enough right now. He couldn’t lose her on top of everything else. “I can do so much better. I promise I'll be better. Please let me in.” 

Please, please, please. 

Rooted to her spot several steps back from the door, Sarah put a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound of her crying. He sounded so hurt, so disappointed in himself. She never wanted him to be in pain, but that didn’t negate the reality that she needed to stand her ground. They’d talked about this, and still, as soon as the next bad game happened – which, as usual, wasn’t his fault – he was bringing it home with him. Their talks obviously weren’t working. So, like a disobedient child, he needed to be put in time out to think about what he’d done. Even if it broke her heart, too.  

Jenny had warned her how hard keeping a boundary would be at first. “In the long run, though,” she’d said at their last session, “it’s the best way to make sure he understands he can’t hurt you like this again.” 

Her silence had anxiety taking hold of his mind, and his voice broke when he said her name. “Sarah?”

“Let’s talk about it in the morning, Q.” 

Hands slipping from the door, Quinn stood there, leaning on it for a minute longer until he heard Sarah’s soft footsteps retreat toward the bed. Looking back, he supposed he should have been relieved she was already thinking about the morning, but in the moment, it felt like a punch to the gut. The last thing he wanted right now was to spend the night away from her.

He wanted to punch a wall, he was so stupid. He wanted to run through reps of any exercise until the pain of this went away. He wanted anything to distract himself, but he’d been alive long enough to know that would only prolong the situation. And the last thing he wanted was to make this pain persist any longer. It was time for him to man up about it. 

Flopping onto the (not so) lucky couch, he pulled out his phone and called the only person he thought could help. 

It was too late to be calling, nearly two in the morning where they were, but she answered anyway, just like he’d hoped she would.

“Hello?” her words were slightly slurred with sleep. 

“Hey mom,” he said, emotion flooding his voice at the sound of hers.

“Quinn? what’s wrong?” Though her mind was fuzzy, Ellen immediately sat up, dusting away the last cobwebs of sleep. The panic of being called in the night by a distressed child rung her heart. Even after 25 years, it never got any easier.

“I think I fucked it.” 

“What are you talking about?” she asked as she reached over to flip on the bedside lamp. He’d had a rough game, but those weren’t usually grounds for middle of the night phone calls. Especially not to her.

Quinn tipped his head back and blinked, trying not to cry. Fuck it. His mom had seen him cry before. Tears slipped into the hair at his temples. “I think I fucked it,” he repeated, before adding the worst, most painful, gut wrenching part, “with Sarah.” 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” she asked, to mask the gasp that crawled up her throat. It wasn’t that she thought Quinn and Sarah would never fight. She knew all too well what it took to make a relationship work, but she thought this call would be a lot less dramatic when it came. 

“We had a fight.” 

Jim rolled over and blinked a few times. “It’s Quinn. He and Sarah had a fight,” she whispered before speaking into the phone again, “What kind of a fight?” 

Jim blinked himself awake, remembering those first scary arguments with Ellen, when he thought he was going to lose her, and worried he might somehow lose himself, too. 

“We –” No, that wasn't right, This was his fault. “I snapped at her,” he confessed. 

“Okay,” her voice was hesitant and confused in his ear.

He'd have to confess all of it. She couldn’t help solve the problem if she didn’t know everything. “It's happened before.”

“The snapping?”

Jim pursed his lips. He had a feeling he knew where this was going. He gestured to the phone.

Ellen nodded, reluctantly putting it on speaker so he could hear and offer advice, too. As much as she wanted to be the hero, she knew Jim would have some good insight into the situation. 

“Yeah. We talked about it last week. I snapped after that San Jose loss, and she told me she didn't deserve that.”

At least they both could agree on that. 

“She told me it couldn't happen anymore. That I…” his voice broke, “that I couldn't take my frustration out on her.”

“I think that's very fair and warranted,” Ellen said, trying to gauge where they were in this story. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But tonight,” his throat constricted with the memory, and he had to clear it. “I snapped again tonight. I was just so frustrated from the loss, and…” he trailed off, knowing it was no excuse. 

“Hmm.”

“And she locked me out.”

“Of the house?” 

“No. Out of our room.”

“I'm guessing it happened before San Jose, too?” she ventured. Sarah was too level headed for this to be the reaction to it only happening once before. 

“Yeah.” It came out a resigned sigh. She knew him too well. 

“Quinn,” she admonished, not quite able to hide the disappointment in her voice. 

“I know.” 

“Quinn?” Jim broke in, his voice far more gentle than he was used to. 

“Hey dad.”  It felt somehow worse that his dad was hearing this. 

“You need to find some way to let that frustration out before you go home. I used to scream on my drive sometimes. I know Bobby used to stop at the gym and run a mile on bad game nights.”

“Your dad snapped at me sometimes,” Ellen said, looking at Jim. He gave her a chagrined, guilty smile. “And I know hockey. I've played. I know that frustration when things don’t go your way, or the team doesn’t play their best first hand. It hurt me, but I knew the reason why and I could talk to him about it. I can't imagine what it's like for Sarah without that background. I know she golfs, but it’s not quite the same when you’re not on a team.”

The more they talked the guiltier and more hopeless he felt. “What do I do?”

“Well, you've got to apologize.”

“I did that.”

“No, I mean really apologize,” Ellen clarified. “An apology is acknowledging exactly what you did wrong and not doing it again.”

“Tell her what you're going to try to make sure you don't bring it home,” Jim suggested

“And don't do any big gestures,” Ellen said. “I know it can feel like a romantic thing, but I don't think Sarah likes things like that.”

He knew she didn't. She wanted real, measurable change and a real, honest conversation. It's a product of the dead parents. Life's too short to not have the conversation. 

“What if she…” he broke off, too scared to say it out loud. 

“Everything I know about Sarah tells me she’s not a quitter,” Ellen said, reading right through his subtext. “Just explain what you're going to do and then do it.” 

“Give her some action items,” Jim added on. “And tell her you’re sorry.”

“Ask her why it's so upsetting to her,” Ellen suggested. 

“I know why.”

“Quinn,” she admonished. 

He shut up. 

“You need to ask her how it made her feel. As much as it may feel like you do, you don’t know everything about her. You haven’t even been dating a whole year, bud.”

“It’s never a good idea to assume you know everything about her,” Jim said. “Trust me, I learned that lesson the hard way.” 

He and Ellen shared a nostalgic smile, and he knew they were both remembering the first few years of their relationship where he’d really learned the meaning of the phrase, ‘when you assume, it makes an ass out of you and me.’

 “Sarah doesn’t strike me as the kind of girl that holds a grudge.”

“No,” Quinn agreed. 

“You haven't been calling me on your drives home,” Jim said. He’d been hesitant to bring it up before when he wondered why Quinn had stopped. It seemed so out of character for him.  

“Yeah.” He thought talking with Sarah was enough. Maybe he needed both. 

“I'm happy to talk it out,” he said. “If you need to get some things off your chest.” 

“Thanks dad. I think I do.” 

“I’m happy to talk through anything, too,” Ellen added. She knew Quinn didn’t always want to talk shop with her, but they talked about other things. “Relationships are hard, Q. You have to learn and grow together. If you don’t, it’ll never last.” 

These were things Quinn knew in the logical part of his brain, but experiencing it first hand was something totally different. 

“I know Sarah doesn’t tolerate bullshit,” his mom said, her voice soft as though she was trying to be gentle with the harsh statement, “and I know that’s one of the things you love about her.” 

Was he really that transparent? 

“But that means she’s not willing to tolerate your bullshit, either.” 

It was this - this concise razor of a summary that cut him deepest. He did love that Sarah didn’t tolerate subpar things in her life. She was exceptional, and if someone or something wasn’t meeting the standard she set, she wouldn’t hesitate to turn away from them. He just never thought he’d fall into that category. 

“So you’re going to have to grow. Learn how to better communicate your needs. Including if you need some time to yourself to process.”

“Okay.” 

A pocket of quiet passed over the phone line, and he heard his mom yawn. A fountain of gratitude gushed in his chest for her and for his dad. He did feel better after confessing and hearing that his parents dealt with these same things and still had a happy life together.

“Thanks for answering, mom,” he said, emotion shaking his voice again.

“Oh, Quinn,” she said, picking up the phone and taking it off speaker. It was a selfish move on her part. She knew that. But it was so rare for her boys to call her, to reach out to her first, that she wanted to savor this one as her own.“I'll help whenever I can. I love you.” It wasn't often that her boys needed her now. She would take the chance whenever it was given. 

“I love you, too, mom.” Worry and gratitude were still thick in his chest, but it felt a little easier to bear, a little more like something he could handle.  

“Are you going to be okay?”

He sighed a deep breath through his nose, “I think so. I'll talk to Sar in the morning.” At least he had a game plan. Or the start of one.

“I’m glad you called, bud.”

“Thanks mom. I'm glad you answered.” 

“Anytime. Love you, Quinn.”

“Love you too, mom. Thanks.”

“Of course. Good night, bud.”

“Night, mom.”

Keeping the phone pressed to her ear, Ellen waited until the line went dead before lowering it back into her lap. Only then did she glance at Jim. 

Just as she expected, his arms were crossed over his chest, a slight pout to his lips.

“They hardly ever call me anymore,” she reminded, reaching over to soothe the pad of her thumb over the furrow in his brow. 

His shoulders slumped almost immediately. “I know,” he said, resigned as his arms unwound. He knew feeling like she took the conversation away when Quinn had called her in the first place was selfish. He was just so used to being the one Quinn called to solve problems. When he allowed himself to think about it objectively, he knew Ellen was the better of the two of them to give advice on this particular matter. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. 

A chuckle fell from her lips. “That sounded like it hurt. Are you okay?” 

Jim laughed good naturedly, “Yeah. Come on, let’s go back to sleep.” 

Ellen flipped off the lamp and settled back into bed. 

“You’re a good mom,” he said, one of his big hands pressing steadily into her back. 

She fell back to sleep, hoping everything would be okay. 

The next morning, Sarah cut her routine short, only brushing her teeth instead of doing her usual shower and skincare. She didn’t want to put off talking to Quinn any longer than she had to.  

Walking through the upstairs, she wondered where he was. He hadn’t been in the guest bedroom - in fact, it didn’t look like he'd gone in that room at all other than to take a pillow from the bed. He wasn’t on the couch, either. Though the hasty way her favorite blanket was strewn over the back of it suggested that’s where he’d spent the night. 

He didn’t have practice until 10. And it was only eight-thirty. She’d been a little harsh the night before, but she didn’t think he’d been upset enough to leave. He hadn't yelled or stormed out in a huff. Plus, Quinn wasn't one to run away from his problems. He usually preferred to face them head on, in the most efficient way possible.

Thoughts were still racing through her mind when her eyes caught on his face. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, holding two mugs of coffee, a hopeful, unsure quirk to his lips. 

Heart hammering in his chest, Quinn watched Sarah descend the stairs. God, even right after waking up, she was still beautiful. Her hair was piled in a messy bun atop her head, and she was wearing one of his hoodies. The sight of her in his clothes turned his heart into a delicate, flighty bird, fluttering inside his chest. 

Most of his night was spent restlessly tossing and turning on the couch. After he'd dug some clothes out of the laundry and changed, he'd gone into the guest room. It felt too unfriendly with its new sheets and bedding that Sarah had never slept in. There was no way he could sleep in there. Instead, he'd filched one of the pillows and gone back to the lucky couch. That, at least housed good memories, and he'd napped on it more than once. It was practically the size of a bed anyway.

Anytime he'd managed to fall asleep, anxiety over what was going to happen in the morning jolted him awake. It was only after he retrieved her favorite blanket from the gaming room that he managed to fall asleep. Its familiar weight and the lingering ghost of her perfume surrounded him in a comforting cocoon.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asked, willing his voice to be calm and smooth. The words still felt too rushed, too harsh in his mouth. He knew what he had to do, but that didn't make it any easier. The potential for this conversation to end badly swirled in his mind. 

“Okay,” she said hesitantly as she stepped off the bottom stair. Quinn was watching her, his expression unreadable. One second he seemed guarded, the next, full of hope. None of them stuck around long enough for her to fully decipher how he was feeling.

Following him to the living room, she took the seat across from him on the leather sofa rather than her customary one in the club chair next to his. The gesture told him more about how she was feeling than anything else. 

When she looked down at the mug he slid across the coffee table to her, she kept her expression guarded. A cup of coffee was a sweet gesture, but surely, he didn’t think this would solve their issues. 

“Let me know if I put too much creamer in there,” he said, almost wincing at how nervous he sounded. He hadn’t felt this nervous around Sarah in months. Actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this nervous around Sarah. “I tried to get the right color, but I���m not sure I did.” 

The smile that ghosted over her lips made his sappy, hopeful heart slam itself into his ribs. 

She took a sip and couldn’t stop the grimace that took over her mouth. 

“Too much?” he asked, regret stabbing his stomach. He couldn’t even get her morning coffee right. 

He’d woken up long before she did, and upon realizing he was staring longingly at their bedroom door as if it might unlock by the sheer force of his will, he went down to the kitchen. Thirty minutes passed before he heard her moving around. When he heard the water in the bathroom shut off, he knew she was finished washing her face and would be down soon. It was then that he’d brewed them each a cup. Breakfast seemed like it might be too big of a gesture, but her morning cup of coffee felt right.

Seeing the despairing look on his face, she almost didn’t say anything. But there was no way she could force herself into drinking this. “Not quite enough,” she admitted finally. “It’s a little bitter.” 

“Oh,” Relief swept through him. At least he didn’t have to brew her another cup. “I’ll get the creamer.” 

He jumped to his feet as if his chair had shocked him, and Sarah admired his muscular calves as he jogged to the kitchen. He’d dug some Canucks shorts out of the clean laundry Sandra had returned the day before. 

Handing it to her, he sat down again and watched her pour another dollop into her mug. 

She took a sip, and the corners of her mouth tipped up in satisfaction.

“So, we can talk?” he asked, leaning to catch her eye. 

“Of course.” She was never going to tell him they couldn’t talk. Though now, she worried her reaction last night may have been too strong. Maybe she’d been too harsh on him. 

“I —” Quinn paused, not quite sure where to start. He supposed he should start by taking his moms advice. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

Snapping out of her own thoughts, Sarah’s eyes darted from her mug of coffee up to his face. He wore an anguished expression she usually only saw when he misfired a pass or didn’t get a goal he thought he should have. 

“I know we talked about me not snapping at you - about not taking my frustration out on you, and I did it anyway, and I’m really sorry.” 

Part of her wanted to tell him it was okay just to get that pained look off of his face. But it wasn’t okay. 

“Thank you,” she said instead. 

“I’m sorry I let you down.” 

A weight settled in her chest. What could she say to that? This was always the worst part about having conversations like this. She didn’t want him to be upset, but she also knew she deserved to get her needs met. It was a strange balance to strike, and she felt like she was always missing the mark. 

“Quinn,” she said, her voice gentle. It was soothing to his ears, like maybe he hadn’t completely fucked himself over. “I —” 

He was looking at her with all this hope in his eyes, and as much as she wanted to nurture it, she knew in the long run, coddling wouldn’t help. If this relationship was going to work, things needed to change.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to find the right balance between firm and loving. She thought about how her mom used to correct her. Even though it had happened often when she was a teen, Sarah had never not felt loved by her. 

In the end, she decided truth was the best course of action. “You did let me down.” 

The hope crashed from his eyes, and she bit back her instinct to take it back. She hated having to make him feel this way. 

He’d known it was the truth, but hearing it from her mouth hurt more. It hit hard, knocking the wind out of him. “I’m sorry.” The words came out flighty, breathy things. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I’m really sorry, Sarah.”

“I know you’re sorry, but you really hurt me, Quinn, and I’m not really sure you understand why.” 

He gulped and ran a nervous hand through his hair, pushing the curls back. “Can you tell me?”

In past relationships, when her exes asked for her to be honest, it often ended up being thrown back in her face. Her expectations were too high or unrealistic, or “this is just the way I am, Sarah.” As soon as these conversations happened in the past, she knew it was time to move on. Fear of hearing this response again bubbled in her stomach. She really didn’t want to have to move on from Quinn. 

“Please. I need to know so I can get better.”

That was new. 

Reminding herself that Quinn had proved again and again that he was nothing like her exes, she went ahead, figuring she may as well lay it all out. He’d proved her wrong so many times, she hoped he was about to do it again. “I was ready to listen and cuddle and hold you,” Sarah said, “and instead, you threw it back in my face like you didn’t even care.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue that he didn’t throw anything in her face, then remembered his moms admonishment. You don’t know everything about her as much as it may feel like you do. “What do you mean?” 

Sarah just looked at him. 

“I don’t know what you mean by I threw it back in your face,” he admitted. 

“I mean that I was trying to comfort you, and you just exploded,” she said. Her blue eyes shimmered with tears. “I understand you might need something different, but I can’t know what you don’t tell me. And getting mad when I do it wrong doesn’t help anything.”

His heart cracked in half. Instinctually, he abandoned his seat, and the coffee that had long gone lukewarm in front of it, to sit next to her on the sofa. He was insanely grateful when she didn’t lean back or move away. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Sarah.”

“Then…” she was so confused, “why were you mad?” 

His mom was right. She just didn’t understand. 

“I was mad about the game.” 

“Right, but then you got mad at me.” 

“I –” he cut himself off to gather his thoughts. God, how did he explain this? “I was so frustrated about the game, and then I came home and I thought… I thought you wanted me to do more, and I just - I lost my temper, and snapped, and I’m sorry.”

“You thought I wanted you to do more by asking you to cuddle?”

“I know it sounds stupid.” 

“No,” she cut that thought off. Him brushing off his feelings to make her more comfortable wouldn’t get them anywhere. “Tell me why you thought I wanted you to do more.” 

He closed his eyes. He never wanted to tell Sarah she was wrong. But she was also asking. 

“I came in and you started giving orders,” he explained, “you just started going into ‘go get changed, and get us a blanket and pick out something to watch,’ and I just couldn’t.” Now that he was saying it out loud, he realized how much her requests had affected him. 

“Oh,” her face fell. “Quinn, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you needed to do those things right then or that you needed to make all those decisions. I just wanted to let you know I was here for you.” 

“No, you did, it just…wasn’t what I needed.” 

“Quinn, I’m sorry.” Her eyes met his, and he could see guilty tears shining in them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. This was supposed to be him apologizing. “I shouldn’t have brought my frustration home. I was talking with my parents last night and –”

“Is that why your mom texted me this morning asking how I was?” 

“I don’t – I mean, I guess so.” 

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, I interrupted.” 

“It’s okay,” he couldn’t remember what he’d been saying. 

“You were talking with your parents,” she prompted. 

“Right. I was talking with them last night, and I realized I haven’t been calling my dad after games.”

“Okay.” 

“I used to call him after every game, especially the bad ones, to talk through stuff.”

“Why did you stop?” 

“I had you,” he said. “We would talk, and you would hold me, and I'd feel better.” Sarah waited for him to continue, so he did, “but I think I might need both.” 

The way he said it made it sound like he shouldn't. 

“Quinn”, she said as gently as she could, reaching forward to cup his face. He leaned into her touch. “Of course you need both.” 

His gaze shot to hers, surprised.

“I’d never expect to fulfill all of your needs. ‘It takes a village’ isn't just something people say about raising kids. It's for everyone. You need a whole village of people around you. We’re not meant to be islands.”

Her thumb stroked over his cheek, and something in his chest knitted back together. 

“I don't understand hockey the way your parents or your brothers do. Of course you should talk to them about it.”

He sighed, nodding. “I realized after we hung up last night that talking with dad really helped me sort through those feelings, and when I stopped, it…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “it’s like they just built up.” 

Sarah let out an understanding sigh, “Jenny tells me all the time that when we don’t address our emotions, they come out sideways.” 

“I’m sorry my sideways meant all over you.” 

A ghost of a smile crossed her mouth, “I’m just glad you figured out what was going on.” 

“Me too,” he said, relieved. 

An almost comfortable pause settled into their conversation. Her hand was still on his face, and though her fingers were cold, he never wanted her to pull away. 

“So, now that you know what’s going on, what are we going to do about it?” she asked. 

“We?” he repeated. The use of the word in that statement wasn’t lost on him. It amazed him she was still willing to work with him on their relationship, even when he’d fucked up so bad. 

Something in her face softened, “there are two of us in this, Quinn. If it’s going to work, we have to work together.”

“Well, I’m going to talk to my dad after games,” he said. “That might mean I get home a little later.” 

“Okay,” she agreed, “that’s not a big deal.” 

Having his needs accepted and supported so readily made Quinn’s heart skip in his chest. A feeling of calm spread all the way to his fingers, which he laced with hers. 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

Quinn’s eyes flicked from their joined hands up to her face, “anything.” He meant it. Sleeping on the couch had been torture when he knew he was there because he’d hurt her. He never wanted to be in that position again. 

Even more than from his guilt, though, he wanted to be better because she was responding in a way he’d never experienced before. With June, an argument like this would have ended with her storming out of the house, yelling that it was over, only for her to come back a few days later, wanting to try again. Sarah’s loving, steady response made him want to change, made him want to be better. 

“If you want something different than what I’m suggesting, you need to tell me. I’m not a mind reader.” 

Cringing at himself internally, he nodded. “I can try.” 

It was better than nothing, but it wasn’t the response Sarah had been hoping for. 

Her feelings must have shown on her face because he jumped to explain, voice squeaking as his words tumbled over each other, “it’s just that sometimes after games —” he cut himself off. He shouldn’t be asking her for things. This was supposed to be his apology, his commitment to change.

“After games?” she encouraged. 

Well, he was in this deep, he might as well just say it. “Sometimes after a rough game, I’m just…tired,” he admitted. She looked confused, so he continued, “when I lived by myself, I usually just got in bed and read whatever book I was in because it meant I didn’t have to make any decisions.” 

“I wish you’d told me this before,” she said, raising her head and looking into his eyes. It struck her how green they were. Usually, they looked mostly hazel. Today, they reminded her of the leaves on her grandmas beechwood tree. 

“I’m sorry,” he rushed, pulling himself a little closer with their clasped hands. 

She shook her head a little, not so much to dismiss the apology as to end the topic. “So should I wait for you?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“After a bad game, do you want me to wait for you to make that call, or should I just keep doing  what I was doing when you get home and you can tell me if you’d rather do something different?” 

“I like the second,” he said. 

“Okay,” she nodded, feeling more settled. “You talk to your dad or whoever about the game, and when you're ready to just relax, I'll be here.” 

“What if I need to burn off some steam?” He meant for it to be a joke, but it came out serious instead. 

Her lips pursed, then relaxed. Longing sparked in his stomach. God, he wanted to kiss her every time she did that.

“I don't think it'd be wise of me to say I'll always be down, but when I am, of course I'm happy to help you burn off that steam.” It didn't hurt that when he was riled up like that, it meant he was hellbent on making her orgasm – usually more than once. 

“You just have to tell me what you want.”

He nodded. When he was with June, he got so used to pushing his wants and needs aside in an effort to keep her happy. It felt almost strange, even after nine months with Sarah, to express his needs and to have her take them into consideration so readily. 

After a few minutes of comfortable quiet, Sarah asked, “don't you have practice?”

He shook his head as his eyes fluttered open, “I messaged Tocc to tell him I couldn’t make it today. Told him I fucked something up at home and needed to make it right.”

“Oh.”

Seeing her bottom lip begin to shake, Quinn’s stomach lurched. Did she not know? He supposed he aught to tell her, just like his mom said. “Sarah, I love you,” he said, his free hand coming up to slide around the back of her neck, “You’re my top priority. I'm sorry if I made it seem otherwise.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling emotion choke her voice. This more than anything else they'd talked about that morning told her how he was feeling and where his priorities were.

Leaning closer, he rested his forehead against hers, “I love you so much, Sar,” he said quietly. 

“I love you, too, Quinn.” 

Hearing it banished the last of his doubt. “I promise I won’t bring my frustration home.” 

That wasn’t going to help anything. “You can bring it home, Quinn. You just can’t throw it up all over me. I know you’re going to have bad days. I am, too. This,” she gestured between them to indicate the conversation, “is about what you do with it.”

He nodded, feeling emotion rock through him. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked. It was a question for the broader universe. He really had no idea.

“You’re just you,” she said, a smile gently tipping the corners of her mouth. 

He only had to move slightly to slide his lips over hers. 

She made a little noise that sounded about as relieved as he felt, and unable to help himself, Quinn pulled her into his lap. 

The kiss was slow and loving. It wasn’t until Sarah slid her fingers into his hair and swept her tongue past his parted lips and trailed it along the roof of his mouth that it grew more passionate. 

The last thing he wanted was for her to think he was only focused on sex, but he was so relieved, so incredibly relieved that she was even willing to kiss him, let alone be in his lap, that his dick popped right up.

She pulled away and glanced down. 

“Sorry,” he said, cheeks blazing, “he's got a mind of his own. I spent the whole night scared you were going to break up with me, so he's just rejoicing over the fact that you didn’t.”

He wanted to bottle the giggle she let out as she leaned in to kiss him again. 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

©2025 tkwrites. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform.

[sirxaibs]

˚₊✩‧₊ Oh bet? ˚₊✩‧₊

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Vinsmoke Sanji X Reader

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊ Synopsis: He flirts? you flirt? he falls in love first? you fall just as much

WARNING!- he a FREAK in a weird way not in my present mic way. But he’s still a gentleman ig

This is explicit content so viewer discretion is advised. It’s not my job to babysit. If you’re not comfortable or know you shouldn’t be reading adult content then think again before reading.

The Baratie was a strange place. A floating restaurant filled with rowdy sailors, the scent of sizzling meats and freshbaked bread hanging in the air. It wasn’t the worst place you’d been, but definitely not the fanciest either. Still, Luffy was practically vibrating in his seat, excited about the food, while Nami looked ready to knock him out if he tried to steal her drink again. Usopp was muttering about how a “great captain” should be treated to the finest dining experience, and Zoro? Zoro just looked half asleep, arms crossed over his chest.

Luffy, practically drooling already, clapped his hands together. “This place smells amazing! Let’s eat!”

“Try not to embarrass us,” Nami sighed, flicking him on the forehead.

Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Tch. Fancy place for the middle of the ocean.

Usopp adjusted his goggles, scanning the crowd. “This place looks expensive… Maybe I should tell them I’m a world famous captain. Might get us a discount.”

You chuckled at their antics, but your attention was quickly drawn to the smooth figure gliding through the restaurant. A blonde waiter in a sharp black suit moved effortlessly between tables, a tray balanced perfectly in one hand as he set down a dish with practiced ease. He bowed slightly, his voice rich and honeyed.

“For you, madam, a meal as exquisite as yourself.”

The customer giggled, clearly smitten, but then his gaze lifted. And landed on you. For a moment, he just stared. Then, as if the world around him faded, the tray in his hand clattered to the floor, dishes shattering. The restaurant hushed. You blinked. He didn’t even react to the mess, his eyes locked onto you like he had just seen a goddess descend from the heavens.

“Oh. Mon dieu…” His voice was barely a whisper.

Luffy tilted his head. “Huh? What’s wrong with him?”

He came to an abrupt stop at your table, eyes widening just slightly before he swept into a dramatic bow. “Forgive me, mademoiselle, but I must ask,” He straightened, flashing a devastatingly smooth smile. “how is it that the sea has yet to claim a jewel as radiant as yourself?”

You blinked. Luffy, mid bite of stolen bread, tilted his head. “Huh?”

Nami sighed. “Oh great. One of these types.”

Sanji didn’t even acknowledge her. His focus was entirely on you, as if no one else at the table mattered. “Truly, it is an injustice that you have not been placed upon a throne where only the finest delicacies are brought to you.” He took your hand, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a featherlight touch. “Allow me to be at your service, my dear.”

Usopp let out a low whistle from across the table. “Wow, I think that worked on me.”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “I already hate him.”

You, on the other hand, smiled sweetly. “That’s quite the greeting for someone you just met.”

Sanji smirked, tilting his head slightly, fingers still holding yours. “I believe in making an unforgettable first impression.”

“Oh, I’d say you have.” You leaned in slightly, voice dropping into a playful lilt. “I just didn’t realize they were hiring princes here.” It happened immediately. Sanji stiffened. His cigarette nearly fell from his lips. His eyes widened, mouth parting slightly like his brain had just shut off completely. For a split second, it was dead silent.

In a singular moment, His entire face went red, from the tips of his ears down to his collar. Luffy choked on his food. Usopp gawked. Zoro, for the first time since you sat down, looked genuinely shocked.

Sanji stumbled back half a step, hands twitching like he wasn’t sure where to put them. “AAh—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I— That’s— You—”

You rested your chin on your hand, watching him with barely concealed amusement. “Something wrong?”

Another malfunction. The pink deepened. He was visibly sweating. Luffy was absolutely losing it. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM? WHY’S HE ACTING LIKE THAT?”

“I—I am NOT—!” Sanji tried to straighten his tie, only to pull it completely loose. His usually cool and composed demeanor had completely crumbled, and he was spiraling. “I—I’ll get your food—YES—I need to—um—”

Quickly trying to gain composure again, turned his head to the side slightly. “Tell me, my love… Do you believe in love at first sight? Because I do now. No, no, I know it. I have spent my whole life searching for something, and today, I have found it in you.”

You smirked, deciding to play along. “Oh? And what exactly have you found?”

Sanji exhaled as if you had just spoken the most poetic words in existence. “The reason my heart beats.”

Zoro groaned louder. “I’m gonna throw up.”

Nami pinched the bridge of her nose. “Are we actually doing this?”

Luffy, still focused on one thing, poked Sanji’s head. “Hey. Can you make us food?”

Sanji finally, reluctantly released your hand, but not without one final lingering touch. Standing up, he smoothed his suit, regaining some composure. “Of course. Anything for you, my love.” Then, to the others, he added flatly, “And I suppose for your friends as well.”

He quickly took your orders, smiling each time giving you a glance and every time it was anyone else at the table who looked more than disinterested. As he sauntered toward the kitchen, he threw one last longing glance over his shoulder at you, pressing a hand to his heart.

“This will not be the last time we speak, my darling.”

You simply smiled, watching him go.

“Well,” you murmured, amused, “obviously it isn’t going to be the last time, he just took our order”

——

The minute sanji joined the crew, He never stopped going for your affection. It started as a casual breakfast on the Going Merry. Peaceful. Normal. Luffy stuffing his face, Zoro half asleep with his arms crossed, Nami sipping her tea, and Usopp telling an obviously exaggerated story. Then, you and Sanji happened. It started small.

“Would you like some more tea, my dear?” Sanji purred, refilling your cup before you could even reach for it. “I couldn’t possibly let someone as radiant as you lift a finger.”

You smiled sweetly. “Oh, Sanji, you’re too kind.” You leaned your chin on your hand. “If you keep treating me like this, I might just start thinking you really like me.”

Sanji smirked. “Like you? My dear, you are the sunrise to my every morning.”

“Oh? Am I?” You tilted your head. “Because you seem more like sunset to me charming, warm, and the kind of view that makes it hard to look away.”

Sanji’s mouth went so wide in shock. The crew immediately went on high alert. Nami sighed, lowering her cup. “Oh no. It’s happening again.”

Usopp side eyed the both of you. “How long do we think this round is gonna last?”

Zoro groaned, rubbing his temples. “If we’re lucky, one of us will pass out.”

Meanwhile, Sanji recovered, straightening his tie. “Ah, but my dear, you forget I exist to serve. If I am the sunset, then I shall make sure you end every day with a breathtaking view.” He took your hand, kissing your knuckles.

You gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. “Sanji, you romantic,”

He grinned. “That’s the mission, sweetheart.”

You leaned in, voice dropping to a near whisper. “But tell me, my prince, can you handle it if I fall for you?”

Sanji’s entire body tensed. His cigarette did fall this time. He gawked at you, struggling to form words, ears burning red.

Luffy blinked, mid chew. “Ooooooo sanji is gonna mess up again!”

Sanji snapped out of it. “HAH! No!!” He grabbed your hand again, desperate to reclaim control. “My darling, if you were to fall for me, I’d catch you faster than the wind itself.”

“Oh?” You smirked. “I guess I should be careful, then, since I do like a man who can sweep me off my feet.”

Sanji’s soul left his body.

Usopp threw his hands in the air. “How is he losing at his own game?!”

Zoro smirked. “Arguably has this ever been his game?”

Sanji stumbled back, gripping the table for balance, eyes darting everywhere except at you. “I—I—” He cleared his throat, straightened his tie again (for no reason), and exhaled sharply. “You’re a worthy opponent, I’ll give you that.”

You winked. “Wouldn’t be any fun if I wasn’t.”

The tension was palpable. Luffy just kept eating, completely unbothered, while Nami rubbed her temples like she had a migraine forming.

“This is gonna go on forever, isn’t it?” she muttered.

“Probably,” Zoro said, amused.

And so, as the sun rose higher in the sky, the Flirt War raged on.

——

The kitchen of the Going Merry smelled heavenly. The scent of garlic, sizzling butter, and fresh herbs filled the air as you stood beside Sanji, sleeves rolled up, a wooden spoon in your hand.

“This isn’t so hard,” you mused, stirring the sauce in the pan.

Sanji scoffed playfully, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. “Oh? Then why did you just almost burn the onions?”

You gasped, quickly turning down the heat. “That was one time!”

He smirked. “It’s been five minutes.”

You shot him a glare, but he just chuckled, leaning slightly closer. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you burn the ship down.”

You huffed, but the warmth of his presence next to you was… nice. Comfortable.

He reached over, gently guiding your hand as you sprinkled in some salt. “There. Just a little too much will ruin the balance.”

You glanced at him, raising a brow. “You know, for someone who might actually be the least serious person ever, you’re oddly serious about food.”

Sanji smirked, but there was something softer behind it. “Cooking isn’t just about food,” he said, voice quieter now. “It’s about taking care of people. Making sure they’re happy, safe, and full.” He glanced at you. “You can learn a lot about someone by what they cook for you and how.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? And what does this say about me?”

He pretended to think, tapping his chin with the knife. “That you’re… lawless, a little reckless, but trying really hard.”

You gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me?”

Sanji grinned. “And that you care more than you let on.”

That caught you off guard. Your fingers tightened around the spoon, a warmth creeping up your neck.

He turned away before you could respond, focused on plating the dish. “Alright, taste test.” He lifted a bite of food to your lips, holding the fork expectantly.

You hesitated only a second before leaning in and taking the bite. The flavors burst across your tongue rich, balanced, perfect.

Sanji watched you closely. “Well?”

You swallowed, licking your lips. “Not bad, chef.”

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a second before he smirked. “Not bad? That’s all I get?”

You grinned. “Alright, alright. It’s really good.”

Sanji chuckled, stepping back with a satisfied look. “I’ll make a cook out of you yet.”

You bumped your shoulder against his. “As long as you don’t mind a little mess in your kitchen.”

His smirk softened. “For you? Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

——

It was supposed to be another harmless round. Another battle of wits. The little game between you and Sanji to see who could make the other fold first.

But somehow, it felt… different today.

The crew was gathered on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun warming the wood beneath you. Lunch had just ended, and everyone was lounging Luffy hanging off the mast, Usopp fiddling with his slingshot, Nami sketching a map, and Zoro napping against the railing.

And then Sanji had done the thing.

He’d casually brushed your hair back, fingers lingering just a second too long, his voice soft as he murmured, “Ah, mon amour, even the wind envies me for touching you.”

That should have been your cue to fire back. To make him stutter, to turn the tables. But for some reason, your breath caught.

Something in the way he said it something different made your heart do a weird little flip.

You recovered quickly, tilting your head with a smirk. “Careful, chef. If you keep that up, I might start believing you.”

Sanji grinned, but his usual arrogance wasn’t there. Instead, he just looked at youlike he was trying to memorize every detail.

The energy shifted. The crew definitely noticed.

Usopp, watching with narrowed eyes, whispered, “am I crazy or does this feel… tense”

Zoro cracked an eye open. “yes. you are crazy. but no you’re right.”

Nami sighed, setting down her pen. “Finally.”

But you and Sanji were locked in now.

Sanji exhaled, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. “Maybe,” he said, voice lower than usual, “maybe I want you to believe me.”

The teasing smile on your lips faltered just slightly.

Your fingers curled slightly against the railing. As god as your witness, since you first met him it’s been like a drug. But you weren’t about to let him win just yet.

“Is that so?” you murmured, stepping closer. “And what if I told you that I like the way you look at me?”

Sanji stilled, inhaling sharply.

For the first time, you saw him hesitate. Not in the usual, flustered way but in the way someone does when they realize they might be in over their head.

The silence stretched between you. The playfulness was still there, but beneath it was something deeper, something neither of you had expected.

Sanji swallowed, then let out a slow breath. “Then… I’d tell you I haven’t been able to stop looking since the moment I met you.”

You froze. This wasn’t a battle anymore. There were no winners. No losers. Just you and Sanji, standing too close, staring at each other like maybe just maybe this had been real all along.

Neither you nor Sanji moved for a long moment. Then, after a heartbeat, you smiled small, real, genuine.

“Guess we’re both in trouble, huh?” you murmured.

Sanji chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck, his face warmer than the afternoon sun.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I think we are.”

——

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden shimmer across the waves as the crew bustled about, preparing to head into town. You leaned against the railing, arms crossed, watching as Luffy practically vibrated with excitement.

“MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!” he chanted, running in circles around Zoro, who looked one second away from knocking him out cold.

“You guys have fun,” you said, stretching your arms above your head with a content sigh. “I’m just gonna take it easy today. Relax, enjoy the peace and quiet.”

Usopp slung an arm around your shoulder, waggling his brows. “Taking it easy, huh? What, planning on sleeping the whole day away?”

“Something like that,” you replied smoothly, not giving anything away.

“I don’t blame you,” Nami said, adjusting her sunglasses as she stepped onto the dock. “This is the perfect time to get some real alone time without Luffy shouting every five seconds.”

“Oi!” Luffy pouted but was too distracted by the smell of food wafting from town to argue.

Sanji, carrying a basket of supplies over his shoulder, turned to you with a charming smile. “Are you sure you don’t want me to bring you back anything, my dear? Something sweet? Something special?”

“I’m good,” you assured him, waving them off. “Just don’t spend all our money, Nami.”

She smirked. “No promises.”

One by one, the crew disappeared down the dock, their voices fading into the distance. You watched until they were completely out of sight before turning on your heel, already feeling the anticipation curl in your stomach.

Being on a boat full of mostly men all the time can definitely get to you, especially when you need some alone time, something that is rare and hard to come by. Today, since it was almost certain that everyone would be off the boat, some much needed solitude was in order.

——

Sanji had barely stepped into town when he realized he had forgotten something. He cursed under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he spun on his heel.

“Damn it,” he muttered, adjusting the basket on his shoulder. “I was supposed to grab some containers for dinner tonight.”

The others were already wandering off Luffy sprinting ahead toward a food stall, Zoro heading in the opposite direction (probably lost already), and Nami dragging Usopp toward the market. No one noticed as Sanji veered off, making his way back toward the ship.

The walk wasn’t long, the scent of salt and the gentle rocking of the boat growing stronger as he neared the Sunny. He hummed to himself, mentally running through the ingredients he needed, completely unaware of what he was about to walk into.

He stepped lightly onto the deck, shoes tapping softly against the wood. The ship was eerily quiet, a rare occurrence with their crew. Normally, he’d appreciate the peace, but something about it made his brow furrow.

“(Y/N)?” he called out absentmindedly, though he didn’t expect a response. You had said you were going to relax, probably napping or reading in your room.

Shrugging, he made his way below deck, heading straight for the kitchen but then, out of pure curiosity (and maybe the tiniest bit of nosiness), he paused outside your door. He wasn’t planning on knocking, just listening for a moment, maybe to see if you had fallen asleep already.

That was when he heard it. A soft sound almost like a gasp. Sanji blinked, tilting his head. Another sound. A shaky breath. Sanji’s brain short circuited.

He swallowed thickly, eyes widening slightly as realization hit him like a speeding Sea Train. His hand, which had been halfway to knocking, immediately yanked back like he had been burned.

Oh. Oh.

He should leave. Right now. Turn around, walk away, pretend he heard nothing, and never think about it again. That would be the polite thing to do. The respectful thing to do.

And yet.

His feet refused to move.

A terrible, awful, sinful curiosity rooted him in place. His fingers twitched. His mind raced with the possibilities of what could be happening on the other side of that door.

Sanji squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take a step back. Nope. No, no, no. This was bad. He needed to go before

The ship rocked slightly, the floor beneath him creaking as his foot shifted.

And then. The door creaked open. His soul left his body.

——

The room was quiet, save for the sound of your own heavy breathing. The ship rocked gently on the waves outside, the muffled voices of birds flying by, barely audible from the deck. You had thought that you were alone.

Which is why you didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

Didn’t notice the door creak open. Didn’t realize you had an audience until

“oh my god.”

Sanji’s entire body locked up. Every cell in his being screamed at him to move, to run, to do anything but it was too late. He had already seen too much.

His face turned red at an alarming rate, from the tips of his ears down to his neck. His hands, which had been casually shoved into his pockets, shot up to his face like a man shielding himself from the divine sight he had just walked in on.

His knees buckled. His breath hitched. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out only small, choked noises that sounded vaguely like prayers.

His mind was an absolute mess. On one hand, he knew he needed to leave. Immediately. On the other hand—OH GOD, YOU LOOKED LIKE A DREAM.

The way your skin glowed in the soft light, the way your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, the way your expression was twisted in pleasure it was too much.

“I— I— I—” He wheezed. His soul was about to physically exit his body.

Your head snapped toward him, eyes wide with horror. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then, realization dawned across your face, your very flustered, very not fully clothed face.

“UH” You scrambled for anything to cover yourself, your face burning hotter than the sun.

Sanji let out something between a strangled gasp and a whimper.

“I— I didn’t see anything!” he blurted, shaking violently. “Well, actually, I did—but I shouldn’t have—but I can’t unsee it now—BUT I DIDN’T MEAN TO—”

“SANJI!”

“YES, MY LOVE?!” His voice cracked.

“GET. OUT.”

That finally snapped him out of his stupor. With one last, absolutely pathetic nosebleed, Sanji let out an inhuman noise, spun around, and slammed the door behind him so hard the ship probably shook.

Silence.

From the other side of the door, you heard a loud crash, followed by weak, lovesick mumbling.

Sanji had absolutely collapsed.

——

After that incident, you had taken your time leaving your room, hoping that by some miracle, he had either forgotten what happened (unlikely) or at least regained enough composure to function like a normal human being around you (even more unlikely).You weren’t hiding from Sanji, exactly.

Unfortunately, the moment you stepped onto the deck, you spotted him.

Or rather Sanji spotted you.The second his ocean blue eyes landed on you, it was over.

His entire body went rigid, as if he had just been struck by lightning. His face already slightly pink from the heat went so violently red that it looked like he was about to self combust.

Then came the nosebleed. It started with a small trickle. Then another. Then a full on gush as the memory of what he had walked in on clearly assaulted his mind all over again.

Sanji wobbled. His legs shook. His breath hitched in his throat, his fingers twitching like he was fighting every instinct in his body.

“Ohhh… oh no…” he muttered, swaying slightly. “It’s happening again… mon dieu… mon dieu…”

Zoro, who had been standing nearby, raised an eyebrow at him. “The hell is wrong with him?”

Sanji let out a pained noise. A whimper. His entire soul was fracturing in real time.

You, watching this, sighed and crossed your arms. “Sanji.”

That was a mistake.

Because the moment your voice reached him, His name floating through your voice, his entire body shuddered, and he collapsed.

Flat on his back. Blood dripping from his nose. Muttering your name like some kind of prayer. The deck went silent.

Luffy, chewing on a piece of meat, blinked down at Sanji’s unconscious body. “Whoa. What happened to him?”

Usopp peered over and snorted. “I don’t know but he’s a perv—”

Zoro scoffed, arms crossed. “Idiot probably deserved it.”

Meanwhile, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

“…Sanji please….”

Sanji barely conscious let out the softest little, “yes, my love…” before finally passing out completely.

On his side after that second misfortune, Sanji HAD been avoiding you since the incident. Knowing full well how disrespectful he’s being. But also know he fully well will fumble. It was hard to avoid someone when every time he laid eyes on you, his body betrayed him.

Blushes. Stammering. Dramatic nosebleeds. Near death experiences. It had been days, and he was still acting like a wreck.

And frankly? You were done with it. You missed you guys hanging out and making food together.

Which is why, when you caught him sneaking off toward the kitchen, you marched right up to him, grabbed him by the collar of his stupid suit, and your fist cracked against his head.

Sanji staggered, a yelp escaping his lips as he clutched his skull. “OW!—MMa chérie! Why—”

You grabbed his tie and yanked him down so he was eye level with you. “Pull yourself together, Sanji!”

His eyes were spinning. He looked devastated. “BBut, my love—”

WHAM. Another hit. Lighter this time, but still firm. “No more nosebleeds. No more fainting. No more worshipping the ground I walk on like some desperate virgin!”

Sanji sputtered. “BBut I’m not—”

You raised your fist again.

“Okay, okay!!” he yelped, hands raised in surrender. “II will act normal, I swear—”

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you sure?”

Sanji swallowed hard, beads of sweat forming at his temple. “YYes, I—”

His eyes flickered to your lips for half a second. Bad move.

You decked him.

Sanji flew like a damn ragdoll, his body went sailing across the deck before he crashed into a barrel with a pitiful THUD.

The crew who had been watching the whole thing winced.

Luffy, still chewing on his food, let out an impressed whistle. “Wow. is this because of the other day?.”

Usopp adjusted his goggles. “Think he’s still alive?”

Zoro, barely sparing Sanji a glance, scoffed. “Unfortunately.”

Meanwhile, Sanji twitched on the ground, a giant lump forming on his head, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

But despite the pain, despite the pure force of your hit his lips wobbled into a lovesick grin.

“Ohhh… they’re so strong…”

You cracked your knuckles. “Sanji.”

“Right! Right! Acting normal! Got it!!”

———

bustling with vendors and laughter as the crew explored. The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting golden light over the marketplace. The air smelled of grilled seafood, sweet fruits, and warm bread. It should have been a relaxing outing.

Should have been.

Except Sanji was currently draped over a group of women near a café, all charm and smooth words, flashing that damn heart eyed smile of his.

“Oh, ladies, you truly brighten this already beautiful day~” he cooed, practically melting into the group. One of the women giggled, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.

“You’re quite the charmer,” she said, batting her lashes.

“I only speak the truth, my sweet,” Sanji replied, reaching for her hand, pressing a light kiss against her knuckles. “How could I not, when standing before such goddesses?”

You rolled your eyes so hard you almost saw the back of your skull.

The audacity. The absolute nerve of this man.

After what happened on the ship the way he had short circuited, collapsed, and barely functioned in your presence for days he had the gall to be out here, flirting with random women like it was second nature? Like he hadn’t seen you in the most intimate, vulnerable position imaginable?

Unbelievable.

You stood at a distance, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. You weren’t sure why you were so irritated. It wasn’t like Sanji didn’t do this all the time. This was normal. Standard. A daily occurrence.

But for some reason, today, it grated on you.

Maybe it was because every time you accidentally brushed against him since the incident, he’d combust like a malfunctioning robot. Maybe it was because he couldn’t even look you in the eye without stuttering.Maybe it’s because you missed him

Or maybe it was because, for a moment, just a brief moment, you thought maybe just maybe his affections toward you were different.

Apparently not.

You exhaled sharply through your nose, turning away. You weren’t going to stand around watching him throw himself at strangers all day.

Just as you were about to walk off, you heard one of the women giggle.

“You’re adorable,” she purred.

Your jaw clenched.

Then, without thinking, you spun on your heel and called out

“Sanji!”

His entire body stiffened.

Slowly, almost fearfully, he turned his head toward you. The women glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension.

“Oh?” one of them mused,. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Sanji’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

You tilted your head, arms still crossed.

“Well, Sanji?” you asked sweetly.

——

You weren’t mad. You weren’t. Because being mad would mean that you had some kind of claim over Sanji, and you didn’t.

He could flirt with whoever he wanted. He could call every woman a goddess, get on his knees, offer them his undivided attention like they were the only ones in the world. It was normal.

So why did it feel like a slow burn in your chest every time you heard him do it?

You had no right to feel this way. No reason to let your mood sour. So instead of dealing with it dealing with him you made a choice.

You avoided Sanji. instead? You spent the day with Zoro.

At first, the swordsman had given you a look when you plopped down beside him on the deck, arms crossed, gaze fixed on the ocean.

“The hell do you want?” he grumbled.

“Nothing,” you muttered, leaning back with a sigh. “Just… existing.”

Zoro huffed but didn’t push you away. That was the nice thing about him he didn’t pry. He just let you be.

The two of you ended up training together, sparring to get your mind off things. You let yourself focus on the swing of your arms, the rhythm of dodging, the burn of exertion rather than the twisting feeling in your gut.

For a few hours, it actually worked. Until Sanji noticed. At first, he didn’t think much of it. You were friends with Zoro, sure. He’d seen you talk before, train together. It was fine.

But as the day went on, something started to feel… off.

You weren’t coming into the kitchen to steal bites of food before dinner. You weren’t teasing him like you usually did. You weren’t around him at all.

Instead? You were with him. Sanji was pissy. Not just annoyed. Not just mildly irritated.

Pissy.

And it was your fault.

You, who had spent the entire day hanging around Zoro like he was your new favorite person. You, who had laughed at something the swordsman said actually laughed like it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard.

You, who had barely spared Sanji a second glance.

So now, he was chopping vegetables in the galley with the kind of aggression that should be illegal, his cigarette burning low as he muttered under his breath.

Nami, leaning against the counter with her drink, raised a brow. “You’re gonna cut your fingers off if you keep that up.”

Sanji slammed his knife down. “Tch.”

“Oh, somebody’s grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy.”

Nami snorted. “Uhhuh. So this doesn’t have anything to do with you know who hanging out with Zoro all day?”

Sanji scowled. “I don’t care what they do.”

“Right.” She took a sip of her drink. “That’s why you’ve been glaring at the deck for hours.”

“I have not—”

The galley doors swung open.

And there you were.

Sanji straightened immediately, expression neutral, but Nami could see the way his grip tightened on the counter.

You walked in casually, grabbing a piece of fruit from the counter. “Hey, Sanji—”

“Oh,” he cut in, tone clipped. “You remember my name?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah?”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter. “Thought you’d forgotten, considering how busy you’ve been with moss head.”

You stared. “…Are you jealous?”

Sanji scoffed. “Pft.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Please.”

“You are jealous.”

“I am not.”

You smirked, stepping closer. “Oh my god. You are.”

Sanji turned away sharply, muttering something under his breath as he aggressively stirred a pot that didn’t need stirring.

You frowned . “You’re mad.”

“I am not mad.”

“You’re being all pissy.”

“I am not. would you just” He exhaled sharply, spinning around to face you, his frustration spilling over. “Forgive me for thinking you’d actually want to spend time with me instead of that muscle brained idiot!”

You blinked.

Sanji blinked.

The room fell silent.

Nami slowly sipped her drink, enjoying the show.

“…Wow,” you finally said, crossing your arms. “That was a lot of feelings all at once.”

Sanji ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “I don’t—tch—just—forget it.”

You tilted your head, then, grinning walked right up to him.

Sanji stiffened as you reached up, gently flicking his tie. “Y’know,” you mused, “for someone who flirts with every woman he sees, you sure lose your mind when the attention isn’t on you.”

Sanji’s jaw clenched. “That’s different.”

You raised a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes.” His eyes met yours, blue and burning with something raw. “Because it’s you.”

That wiped the smirk off your face.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with a final scoff, Sanji turned back to the stove. “Just sit down, alright? I made dinner.”

You step back a bit, but your chest felt a little warmer. “ Are you making it just for me?”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “Shut up.”

————

There are endless lists of moments Sanji fell in love with you. Like how he usually took care of people with food. The way you took care of him never ceases to make him love you more. The battlefield was still. The fight was over, the enemy long defeated, but your heart was still pounding.

Because where was he?

Your eyes scanned the wreckage, searching, ignoring the aches in your own body. The second you spotted the familiar flash of blonde Sanji, standing a few feet away, wiping blood from his lip your feet moved.

“Sanji!”

He barely had time to react before you reached him, hands immediately running over his arms, his chest, checking for any injuries.

“Are you okay?” You tilted his face up, frowning at the bruise forming on his cheek. “Damn it, Sanji, why do you never dodge”

A gasp slipped from his lips as he stared at you. “I—what?”

“You always get hit,” you scolded, brushing a bit of blood away from his jaw. “You know you don’t have to take every hit for someone else, right?”

Sanji blinked. It wasn’t like you to fuss over him. Sure, you flirted, teased, challenged him but this? This was new.

“You’re hurt, too,” he finally said, frowning as he spotted the scrape along your arm. His fingers brushed over it, eyes darkening slightly. “You should—”

“I’ll be fine.” You waved him off, still checking him over. “you’re always my first priority, okay?”

Sanji stopped breathing.

The world around him seemed to fade. The sound of the crew celebrating, the distant crash of waves it was all gone.

All that existed was you.

Your hands were still on his chest, completely oblivious to the way his heart was slamming against his ribs.

“…Sanji?”

Your voice snapped him out of it.

He exhaled sharply, shaking off the insane urge to just grab you, kiss you, do something. Instead, he covered his flustered expression with a lopsided grin.

“You really can’t resist touching me, huh?” He smirked, though it was weaker than usual. “I knew you liked me.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”

But the way you smiled at him relieved, warm, real Sanji decided he’d let you fuss over him forever.

———

It was the next day and Sanji wasn’t on the ship. He had gone exploring with Nami and Usopp, leaving the kitchen blissfully empty. Normally, you wouldn’t dare enter his domain without permission, but today was different.

Today, you had a plan. You were going to cook for him. Wasn’t it him that said the way someone cooks for people is how you learn about a person or whatever?

It wasn’t anything extravagant just a simple dish you’d seen him make before. But as you stood over the stove, carefully chopping ingredients (only slightly unevenly) and stirring the sauce (definitely not burning it this time), you felt something odd.

Nervousness.

Why were you nervous? You and Sanji flirted all the time, teased each other relentlessly, but this… this felt different. More personal.

You sighed, shaking off the thought. He cooks for everyone all the time. This isn’t a big deal. Except it was, and you knew it.

By the time Sanji returned, the dish was plated neatly on the counter. You were wiping your hands on a towel, pretending not to be hyperaware of how fast your heart was beating.

Sanji stepped into the kitchen, stretching. “Mmm, what’s that smell—?” He froze.

His eyes landed on the plate. Then on you. His brain short circuited.

“Did you…?” He pointed at the food. “Is this—?”

You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling ridiculous. “Yeah. I, uh… made it for you.”

Sanji’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest wanting come barrelling towards you. His entire face went red. “You—” He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair like he had no idea what to do with himself. “You cooked? For me?”

You shifted awkwardly. “Well, yeah. You’re always the one feeding everyone, so I thought… you know.”

Silence. Then, Sanji dragged a hand down his face, clearly struggling.

You had never seen him at a loss for words before.

You smirked, trying to break the tension. “What, cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”

Sanji looked at you, blue eyes flickering between the food and your face like he was witnessing something too much for his heart to handle.

“You’re… really trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered.

Before you could respond, a loud THUMP shook the kitchen.

“I SMELL FOOD!!”

Luffy’s massive form barreled into the room, eyes locked onto the plate like a starving wolf.

In an instant, Sanji snapped out of his daze. “DON’T YOU DARE, YOU GREEDY BASTARD—”

But before Luffy could make a move, BAM!

Zoro’s arm shot out, holding Luffy back with one hand while the rubber idiot flailed desperately. “LET ME GO, IT LOOKS SO GOOOOD—”

Zoro sighed, straining slightly to hold him in place. “Not this time, moron.”

Sanji cracked his knuckles, looking murderous. “If you so much as breathe near that plate, I swear on everything, Luffy—”

Luffy whined. “BUT I’M HUNGRYYYY.”

Zoro smirked, glancing between you and Sanji. “Let the lovebirds have their moment.”

Sanji choked. You nearly threw the nearest pan at Zoro’s head.

“IT’S NOT—WE’RE NOT—”

Zoro just walked away, still holding a wailing Luffy back. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Enjoy your date, cook.”

The kitchen fell into silence again.

Sanji coughed into his fist, refusing to meet your eyes. You could still see the pink dusting his cheeks.

You sighed, sitting on the counter. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Sanji hesitated, then finally sat across from you. His expression softened as he looked at the meal you’d made.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, voice quieter than usual. “Really.”

You shrugged, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “Just eat it before it gets cold, yeah?”

He smiled. A real, soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

And as he took his first bite, you swore you’d never seen him happier.

Sanji took his time with the meal you’d made for him, savoring every bite like it was the finest dish in the world. He didn’t scarf it down like Luffy would’ve no, he was gentle with it, like he knew how much effort you had put in.

And honestly? Watching him enjoy it sent a strange warmth through your chest. Maybe that’s why he does this.

He set his fork down with a satisfied sigh, wiping his mouth with a napkin before finally looking at you. His eyes held something different now something real.

“That was incredible,” he murmured. “Not just the food. The fact that you… did this for me.”

You huffed, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it, alright?”

Sanji chuckled, shaking his head. “Too late.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable. You could still hear Luffy and Usopp messing around outside, Zoro’s occasional annoyed grunts, the gentle sway of the Merry on the waves.

“Can I ask you something?” Sanji’s voice was softer now, hesitant.

You glanced at him. “What’s up?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment before exhaling, as if bracing himself. Then, he met your gaze, and all of his usual flirtatious bravado was gone.

“I… want to be with you,” he admitted, voice steady but genuine. “Not just as a game. Not just as some girl I flirt with and move on from. You.”

Your breath hitched slightly. You hadn’t expected this. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, any hint that this was just another one of his smooth lines. But there was nothing just pure, raw honesty.

Still, you had to be sure.

“You say that now,” you murmured, watching him carefully. “But what about the next pretty girl you see? The next chance to throw around your charms?”

Sanji’s jaw tightened. He stood up, stepping closer, his gaze intense. “You think I’d risk everything, risk you for some meaningless flirting?”

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was.

“I don’t just like you,” he continued, voice lower now, more serious than you’d ever heard him. “I adore you. Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you fight, the way you drive me absolutely insane in the best way.”

Your heart pounded.

Sanji’s fingers brushed against yours on the counter, tentative, like he was waiting for permission.

“You’re not just another girl to me,” he murmured. “You never were.”

The sincerity in his voice nearly knocked the wind out of you.

You let out a breath, glancing at your entwined fingers before looking back at him. “…Promise me.”

Sanji didn’t hesitate. “On my life.”

The weight of his words settled between you. Then, finally, finally, you leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. Sanji froze. His face exploded in red, eyes wide, mouth slightly open like his brain had completely shut down.

You smirked. “Speechless?”

He made a strangled sound, gripping the counter for support. “I—You—Mon dieu.”

You laughed, shaking your head before lacing your fingers through his. “C’mon, lover boy. Let’s go before Luffy breaks in here again.”

Sanji blinked rapidly, trying to reboot his system. Then, he squeezed your hand, a dazed but ridiculously happy smile spreading across his face.

“Yeah,” he breathed, still looking like he couldn’t believe this was real. “Let’s go.”

——

The sun dipped low over the deck, bathing everything in warm hues of gold and orange. The crew lounged, basking in the afterglow of yet another victory. Luffy was inhaling food like he hadn’t just eaten an hour ago, Usopp was dramatically retelling the battle with enough embellishments to make a playwright jealous, and Zoro was leaning against the mast, arms crossed, eyes shut.

And you? You were watching him. Sanji, leaning against the railing, cigarette between his lips, looking effortlessly cool. As always. It was obnoxious. After everything, the battles, the tension, the way he looked at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice, you decided… why not mess with him a little?

So, without a word, you strolled up to him, placed a hand on his cheek, and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his lips. Just like that. Casual. Like it was nothing. Like it was normal.

Then, before he could react, you pulled back, patted his cheek with a smirk, and murmured, “Thanks for being safe, Sanji.” And then you walked away. Silence. Not a normal silence. A deafening, stunned silence. The crew froze. Sanji? Sanji malfunctioned. The cigarette slipped from his fingers, landing on the deck with a faint hiss. His entire body locked up, lips still parted like his brain had left the building.

“HUH???” Luffy choked, rice spilling from his mouth.

Usopp smacked his own face. “Did—did they just—DID YOU SEE THAT?!”

Zoro cracked one eye open, and muttered, “Well, they’re actually doing it.”

Meanwhile, you were casually leaning against the mast, trying very hard not to laugh as you watched Sanji’s brain actively rebooting.

And then Sanji moved. No he stormed straight for you. Before you could react, his hands grabbed yours, yanking you close in one fluid motion. “Oh, you’re dangerous, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dangerously low.

Your smirk faltered slightly. “…Sanji?”

“You think you can just do that?” His hands slid up your arms, firm, possessive. “You think you can just kiss me and walk away? take me serious”

You swallowed. “I mean—”

Sanji cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. Your heart slammed against your ribs.

His voice dropped, smooth as silk, deadly as sin.“Try pulling something like that again, love, and I’ll make sure you never get a chance to walk away.” Your breath hitched.

The crew? Losing their minds. “OH MY GOD???” Usopp shrieked. “WHAT IS HAPPENING?” Luffy yelled, food completely forgotten. Nami just sighed, shaking her head. “Finally.” Zoro? well that man fell back asleep. For the first time in your life speechless. Sanji? Sanji smirked. Because for once he won this round.

—

You snorted. “Oh please, if I wanted you, you’d already be mine.”

Sanji grinned, tilting his head. “That so?”

“Obviously.” The banter was light, familiar comfortable. The kind of thing that had become second nature between the two of you.

“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”You both froze. Slowly, your heads turned to see Zoro walking past, completely unfazed, his sword slung over his shoulder.

Sanji choked. “EXCUSE ME?”

Your brain short circuited. “WHAT??”

Zoro, not even looking back, just shrugged. “You guys are basically already there. Might as well make it official.”

Sanji exploded.“ARE YOU INSANE?! You can’t just say something like that, YOU ABSOLUTE MUSCLE HEADED JACKASS!” His face was red, You, meanwhile, were dying.

“Zoro, what the hell?!” you sputtered, half laughing, half horrified.

Zoro just yawned. “I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking.”

From across the deck, Usopp cackled. “He’s got a point.”

Nami, sipping her drink, smirked. “Honestly, we were all just waiting for someone to say it out loud.”

Luffy, in true Luffy fashion, grinned. “wait so are you both…. doing it?”

Sanji made a sound that was borderline inhuman. “LUFFY, NO.”

You covered your face, trying and failing not to laugh. “I hate all of you.”

Sanji, still sputtering, ran a hand down his face. “Unbelievable.”

Zoro just smirked. “You’re welcome.” And with that, he walked away. Leaving the two of you standing there, stunned, mortified.

—

Most of the crew had gone to sleep, the only sounds left being the gentle lapping of waves and the faint creaking of the ship. You, however, were not sleeping. Instead, you were standing outside the men’s quarters, arms crossed, staring at the door like it had personally wronged you. Because Zoro’s words from earlier were still rattling around in your head.

“Oh my god, just sleep together already.”

The worst part? He wasn’t wrong and that was why, before you could talk yourself out of it, you knocked. There was silence, then a shuffling sound before the door cracked open revealing a very tired, very shirtless Sanji. His hair was messy, his tie discarded, and good lord he was wearing sweatpants.

You almost lost your nerve right then and there.

He blinked at you, rubbing his eyes. “Sweetheart? What are you doing here?”

You cleared your throat, trying very hard to keep your gaze above his collarbone. “Uh. Can I come in?”

Sanji raised a brow but stepped aside, letting you enter. The room was dimly lit, empty besides his neatly made bed and the scent of cigarettes lingering in the air.

He closed the door behind you. “Alright, what’s—”

“I think we should listen to Zoro.”

Sanji blinked. “ew what?”

You took a deep breath, stepping closer. “We should just… do it.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Sanji.exe had stopped working.

“…I’m sorry, what?”

You crossed your arms, feigning confidence. “You heard me.” Sanji stared. His mouth opened then closed. Opened again. Nothing came out. his face exploded into red.

“WWAIT, HOLD ON, YOU CAN’T JUST—” He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide like you’d just set off a bomb. “Are you—do you—do you even know what you’re saying right now?!”

You smile, stepping closer. “What, you get to flirt all day, but I can’t be upfront?”

Sanji backed up instinctively, nearly tripping over his own bed. “That’s—! This is—!!”

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. “What’s wrong, Sanji?”

He whimpered. Actually whimpered. His hands were gripping the sheets like a lifeline, breathing erratic. “You can’t just waltz in here and say things like that! I have a weak heart!”

You bit back a laugh. “Weak heart, huh?” You leaned down, tilting your head. “Then should I leave?” Sanji grabbed your wrist before you could even move.

“…Don’t you dare.”

The air in the room shifted. You swallowed, suddenly aware of how close he was how his grip on you had tightened, how the teasing in his eyes had turned into something else entirely.

“…Sanji?”

His hand lifted, fingers tracing gently over your wrist. “You really want this?” His voice was quieter now, more serious.

You met his gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

And with that, your fate was sealed.

Sanji’s lips lingered against your knuckles, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your spine. His usual playfulness had melted away, leaving something real, something that made your stomach flip in a way you weren’t used to. Your heart pounded. You had started flirting with him all the way back as a joke just to mess with him, to see if he’d break like he always did. But now?Now you were the one who couldn’t breathe. Sanji lifted his gaze, his thumb brushing against your wrist. His voice was softer now, the teasing gone. “Say it again.”

You swallowed. “Say what?”

“That you want this.” His grip tightened, not forceful, but firm. “That you want me.

It should’ve been easy. You flirted with him all the time. This should’ve been just another game, another battle to see who would crack first. But looking at him now the way his lips parted slightly, the way his eyes searched yours with something dangerously close to hope this wasn’t a game anymore. You took a shaky breath. “I want this.” Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him. Sanji inhaled sharply, like the words had physically hit him.

“…Say it again,” he murmured, almost desperate.

You cupped his face, letting your thumb trace over his cheek. “I want you, Sanji.”

That was all it took. A groan left his lips, and before you could process it, his hands were on you gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him, his forehead pressed against yours as he shook with the effort of holding himself back.

“You’re killing me, sweetheart,” he whispered, breathless. “Do you even realize what you do to me?”

You smiled, running your fingers through his messy blonde hair. “I have an idea.” Sanji let out a low chuckle then, with a sudden rush, he flipped you onto the bed. You barely had time to gasp before he caged you beneath him, arms braced on either side of your head.

“I’ve spent so long waiting for this,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “Thinking you were just teasing, that you’d never really…” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

You grinned, hands trailing down his chest. “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Sanji groaned, dropping his head against your shoulder. “God, I love you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Silence. Sanji froze. Your breath caught. “What did you just say?”

His entire body locked up. “…Nothing.”

You smirked. “Sanji.”

He refused to lift his head. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You totally did.”

“I absolutely did not.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Sanji. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he lifted his head, cheeks bright red.

You smiled. “Say it again.”

He groaned, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

But he still whispered it against your skin, soft and genuine. “…I love you.”

—

It was the next morning the room was dimly lit, the gentle sway of the ship rocking beneath you as you and Sanji were lost in each other. His hands traced along your skin, slow and reverent, as if memorizing every inch of you. His breath was warm against your collarbone, lips trailing lazy kisses up your neck, stopping just beneath your ear.

“Mon amour,” he murmured, voice thick with devotion, “you’re intoxicating, you know that?”

You hummed, fingers slipping through his golden hair, tugging just enough to earn a soft groan from him. “And yet, you’re the one who can’t seem to get enough.”

Sanji let out a breathless chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can you blame me?” His fingers trailed down your spine, setting your nerves alight. “You’re—” He kissed you deeply, swallowing the words before they could leave his lips. You melted into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the way his hands held you so carefully, like you were something precious. Every touch, every kiss was a promise one that you could feel down to your bones.

“Sanji…” you whispered against his lips, feeling his breath hitch as you ran your hands down his chest, your own teasing smirk forming as you

SLAM!

“HA! I KNEW IT!”

You and Sanji froze. Slowl horrifyingly you turned your heads toward the doorway. Usopp stood there, eyes wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in pure shock.

A beat of dead silence. Then processing just exactly what he caught and “knew” “OH MY GOD!”

Usopp screamed, immediately throwing his hands over his face like that would somehow erase what he had just seen. “I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES—OH GOD—WHY—”

“GET OUT!!!” Sanji roared, grabbing the nearest object a pillow and hurling it at him.

But Usopp was already gone, sprinting down the hall at full speed. “NAMI!! I SAW IT! I SAW IT, AND I CAN NEVER UNSEE IT—” The door slammed shut again. Silence. Sanji, breathing heavily, still had his arm mid throw, his face burning scarlet.

You, equally red, slowly buried your face in your hands. “…Well.”

Sanji collapsed back against the mattress, groaning. “Does anyone knock or have courtesy?”

You sighed, staring at the ceiling. “we’re on a pirate ship, I think manners left the minute he stepped on”

From somewhere down the hall, Usopp could still be heard wailing. Sanji groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “…I’m moving to another ship.”

lol my last day of vacation and i’m about to go home but as it is a 10 flight i shall leave you with this. I also reach the text box limit and now some sections look squishy 😔

Sanji: heh... step aside ladies... let a real man handle this (does the exact same thing but worse)

[zolass]

Oblivious Idiot Top Male Oc x Bottom Male Reader

Posting four days in a row, I'm literally just using the motivation of the feedback and support I'm getting from y'all to pump out a few stories. Perfect time to say thank you for over 200 followers, the feedback in likes and obviously the nice comments. Thank you all <3 I kinda wanna do more parts to Oblivious Idiot because in my head it could be fun with at least another part. MDNI if you do, that's not my problem what you consume. content/warning: slut shaming, reader dresses feminine, slightly uncomfortable reminder of past, fingering, rutting against pillow. I hope I got everything if not I'm sry. 1.4k words

Rage bubbled underneath your skin, as you stalked down the sidewalk with quick and heavy strikes. You kept your head down, as your blood boiled like a volcano ready to erupt, and you didn’t want to be punching a stranger for looking at you funny by the way you dress.

Not after what happened not even fifteen minutes ago, what was the sore reason why you were so mad. You always wore clothes that others would describe as feminine, yet to you it were simply clothes that you found good looking on yourself. Clothes don’t define gender, so until you reached high school your clothing style would switch between ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’, yet some boys and girls found it strange, even putting their opinions openly out, which you wouldn’t have minded if they wouldn’t straight up insult you. 

As you stopped in front of the apartment complex, in which you lived together with your childhood ‘best friend’, you couldn’t help the grinding of your teeth, as you looked through the bag you had by your side for your teeth. Fiddling with the mess of keys, until you found the right one had you swallowing hard, until you pushed the door to the complex open and quickly skipped up the stairs to the third floor, not in the mood to wait for the elevator. When you reached your floor, your legs were aching, yet you pushed forward, especially now that you were so close to your own four walls. 

When the white doors to your shared apartment finally opened with another key, you didn’t waste another minute in the hallway, before rushing in and closing the door rather harshly, which definitely caught the attention of your fellow roommate, Zachary, who was surprised by your way too early and angry person dashing past the living room, only to hear a loud bang, of the doors to your room shutting.

Quickly kicking your shoes off, before letting your bag fall beside them. Making a bee-line to your bed, you dropped on the soft mattress with a heavy sigh sprawled out on your stomach. You sniffed and wiped your tears of anger and frustration away, when a knock sounded at your door. “Hey.. can I come in?” the calm yet concerned muffled voice of Zachary was like balm on your rippling emotions

You gave a short answer, and shortly after the door opened and the mattress sunk slightly by the added weight and a warm hand placed on your upper back. At first you were reluctant to lift your head, to show your roommate, your best friend, your goddamn crush, the mess you were emotionally, but the soothing caress on your back and the calming hums of a unknown melody made you rest your head on your arms, exposing your slightly puffy eyes. 

“What happened that got you so fired up?” Zachary asked, and obviously he couldn’t know, yet thinking to what happened made you clench your hands into fists as you glared at the blanket, “Ask your friend–” you sat up, feeling how his warm palm left your back, as you stared in his honey brown eyes, “Ask your himbo of a teammate, Aaron–” you cut yourself off as your teeth digged into you lower lip. 

Your blunt nails digged into your palms, as you swallowed hard trying to steady your breath before you continued, “He thought it would be funny to ask me– how much I take for an hour,” 

Never in your life did you experience this, odd looks or a few comments that never reached this degree. 

Biting your lip at the silence, you looked back at Zachary, after you had looked away while grounding yourself. The look in Zachary’s eyes was one you would describe as murderous, you never saw him this angry before. You watched with big eyes as the other suddenly stood up, “I’ll talk with him and take care of this,” his usual soft demeanor was cracked yet he gave you a tender kiss on your forehead before he stormed out of your room. You only heard him picking up his keys before the front door opened and quickly shut.

Now you were alone in the apartment, pursing your lips you slowly got up and walked out of your room, walking into the one across from yours. As you stood in Zachary’s room, you couldn’t help but take in the scent that lingered inside the room, but your attention was quickly on the bed on which you threw yourself. You simply wanted a hug, yet Zachary seemed to be blinded by anger that it even surprised you, unable to even utter your request of a comforting hug.

You buried your nose in the pillow, hugging it close to your chest. Sighing as your mood seemed to lighten by simply being in Zachary’s room. Yet you couldn’t help the pout forming on your face, Zachary was oblivious to your feelings that you harbor since you weren’t even sure when you started to feel different towards your best friend. It also didn’t help that you were always so close with him, living together and when you guys were younger you lived across the street from each other.

As you steered your mind even further into more peaceful waters, you couldn’t help but be reminded of the lingering touches, sending excitement down your spine into your dick. Your breath hitched as you started to rub yourself against the blanket, the white underwear slowly forming a wet spot from your precum, as from today you wore a simple skirt that reached the middle of your thighs. 

Slowly you let out breathy moans, the pillow that you hugged only a minute ago was now between your plush thighs as you rutted your hips into the cushion, the friction sent shivers down your spine. But deep down you wished it was something else giving you pleasure, someone. The wet spot on your panties got larger and larger yet your orgasm seemed still so far away.

Taking three of your fingers in your mouth, you sucked and licked them until they were wet enough, before you pulled your panties to the side and quickly pushed two digits in, a moan left your throat as your head bobbed back in pleasure, your eyes closed as you imagined that instead of your fingers it were the thick and long ones of Zachary. 

As you pushed your third finger in, you remembered the time where you were accidentally flashed by Zachary, the image of his hard cock burned into your mind, you two never spoke about it, but right now you wished you did. Whines left you as you fingered your hole in a frenzy brushing against your prostate, making you whimper in frustration, yet the stimulation on your weeping cock, helped you getting closer to your sweet relief, all the while shameless moans left you.

“R-right there Zac– fuck yes.. Ahh–” a choked moan left you, “fuck me, please–” your mind was blinded by lust, the coiling in your groin as you were on the edge of your orgasm, “My oh my– what a naughty boy,” you brushed against your prostate as shock paralyzed you for a second, before your head snapped to the door. 

There he stood, breathing heavy while his fists were clenched, yet when your eyes collided with darkened eyes, something about that look pushed you over the edge, making your spurt white ropes of cum, soiling your panties and the bed, while a choked “Zachary,” left your lips, your back arched slightly and your brows furrowed slightly.

While your mind was in a state of bliss and panic, the other took slow steps inside his room, eyes solely on you, “I found it actually nicer when you moaned my nickname that you used to love to call me by,” his words were dripping with what you would describe as lust. You couldn’t hold eye contact for long, when your gaze dropped you spotted the bleeding knuckles. A gasp left your lips, you reached your hand out, before pulling it back as it was the exact hand that you used to finger your ass. Also because you weren’t sure by the way he clenched his fists you would be the next to have these in your face.

“What happened?” you decided to simply ask, glancing up at the honey brown eyes. Zachary raised one eyebrow at the lack of actions you would’ve usually shown, he couldn’t help but frown but he did also notice your tense shoulders, while you obviously also tried to move on from what he caught you doing. 

But he wouldn’t be mean, and simply indulge in your attempt, “He had it coming– after all nobody gets to shame you and come out scott free.”

[maskedcrawford]

Sweet Confessions

Felix x Reader

Summary: Best friends who aren't committed to being best friends.

A/N: This idea struck me so I hope it's good. I'm sorry if it sucks. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of panic, slight! angst? Fluffy fluff.

Requests are OPEN

You show up at Felix’s door, cheeks tearstained and nose red and puffy.

“Woah,” he says quietly when he opens the door.

“What happened?” he pulls you inside and immediately wraps his arms around you, resting his head on top of yours.

“He- he left me,” you sob into his chest. You feel the vibration of his response in his chest. You wrap your arms around him and soak his shirt with your tears.

“Hey,” he murmurs.

“It’s all right, he wasn’t that great anyway,” he tries to console you.

“He definitely didn’t deserve you.” He strokes your hair, knowing how it helps to calm you down.

“Come on, let’s take your mind off it, hmm?” He peers down at you and you nod. He leads you to the couch before disappearing into the kitchen and brings out a tub of ice cream and two spoons.

“Ice cream,” he says cheerfully. You give him a sad smile.

“Thanks, Lix,” you sniffle before digging into the delectable dessert. He puts on your favorite movie and the two of you snuggle up on the couch.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks quietly.

You shrug as you readjust and lay your head on his chest. His heart beats against his ribs, slightly nervous you can hear it. You don’t pay any attention; you’re too wrapped up in your own emotions to notice it.

You and Felix had been friends since he debuted, always supporting him, the guys in Stray Kids sometimes teasing you about how you were always together. Which wasn’t a lie, I mean you two were practically inseparable.

Felix could pinpoint the exact moment he knew he was ruined by you. It was the day you came to visit him at a rehearsal in Seoul. You were wearing a beautiful bright colored sundress and sandals, your hair was down and freshly done, and you came in all excited, practically hoping, about some new job opportunity; he replays the memory often of your smile and the inflection in your voice from that day. The genuine happiness that just exuded from you. It makes him smile. It’s a nice contrast to the broken mess you are now cuddled up to his side.

“You know, I never cared for y/e/n,” he mentions glancing down at you.

“Yeah, everyone knew,” you joke poking his side. Felix wasn’t one to hide his emotions well. When you first introduced him to your boyfriend, he was cordial but that’s as far as it went. Your boyfriend wasn’t fond of Felix either though to be fair. He always accused you of sleeping with him or of seeing him behind his back, and no matter how many times you tried to explain that the two of you were just close friends, he wouldn’t hear it.

“That’s actually why we broke up,” you mumble. Felix’s brow raises.

“Wait, what,” he half laughs.

“He didn’t like that we spent so much time together. Kept going on about how you liked me,” you don’t notice the way the tips of his ears blush, “And how it looked an awful lot like we are dating,” you roll your eyes staring at your hands.

“Huh,” is all he can say.

“Ridiculous right?” You peer up at him with glassy eyes. He steals a glance at your soft plump lips before nodding his head in agreement.

“Uh, yeah, we’re friends.” He says as he hugs you closer.

“That’s what I tried to tell him.” You stare into his dark eyes as he does the same to yours. The tension in the air thickens. Felix opens his mouth, all his feelings threatening to pour out but he closes his mouth before it can. You tilt your head ever so slightly. This time it’s you who steals a glance at his lips. Was it the pain influencing you? Was it the fact that you actually really liked your best friend more than your best friend? It was both. Usually, your feelings could be pushed down and you’d date another guy trying to use him to get your mind off Felix, but it never worked. Still you two had never crossed the line of friendship.

You both stare in silence for a beat while the movie is long forgotten.

“You wanna stay the night?” he offers trying to cut the tension.

“That’d be nice. Probably wouldn’t serve me well to be alone tonight.” You lay your head on his shoulder, the close proximity making both of you nervous. Felix was a gentleman though, he swore he’d let himself tell you, just as soon as you were dealing with the breakup better.

-

Two weeks later you’re over at Felix’s place for another sleep over, this one filled with joy and fun. The two of you are baking the day away, brownie’s, cookies and a cake is currently in oven.

“Hand me that plate and I’ll start on the icing,” you tell him as you motion to the cookies. The last two weeks you’d gotten better at handling your emotions with the breakup and you remembered how nice it was to hang out with your best friend without having someone breathe down your neck about it.

As you ice the cookies, you glance at him, his blonde hair highlighted by the over head light, the way the sunlight coming in through the window catches his features. The way his freckles are highlighted.

Felix feels your eyes on him as he whisks another bowl of brownie mixture together.

“You can take a picture, ya know.” He teases. You flush a deep crimson color as you quickly snap your head down at the cookies. You don’t respond, just acting like you don't hear him.

“Hey, don’t ignore me,” he pouts. Suddenly you’re surrounded by a white cloud. Your jaw drops as you look at the cookie you were almost done with get ruined.

“Why you little,” you throw an uniced cookie his way but he doges it. He laughs as he gets another handful of flour and tosses at you. This time you stand up and in your play fight with the flour, you grab his wrist and he’s pinned against the counter.

“Stop,” you giggle as he looks down at you. The air is charged with words unsaid, feelings had but never voiced, tension you both know is there. He searches your eyes, looking for any small indicator you might find this moment as fragile as he does, and yours show nothing but vulnerability. Before another thought can cross your mind his lips are gently pressed to yours. Electricity shoots down your spine, its easy, natural even. Before you can kiss him back he pulls away and leans back looking down at you.

You reach behind him grabbing another small handful of flour, keeping total eye contact with him, tossing it at his face. He braces for the soft blow and lets out a breathy laugh before you fist his shirt pulling his lips back down to yours. He holds you flush against his body, the kiss passionate and slow. You pull away, painfully slow, and you both look at each other.

It's as if an alarm goes off inside your head, and the heavy realization of what you've done is hitting you. Just when he opens his mouth to say the thing he needs to, you dash out of his apartment. Your chest heaves up and down from the anxiety of the moment, meanwhile Felix is left inside the apartment staring at the door you just walked out of wondering what in the world just happened.

The next day you call him, “Hey,” you say reluctantly.

“Hey,” his voice is short, teetering on sounding irritated.

“You busy today?” you bite your lip anxiously.

“Yeah, I have rehearsals,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, all right,” your voice is somber.

“But I’ll come by if you want to hang out afterwards,” he relents. He knows he can't stay away from you long.

“Oh, yeah that’s fine, I’ll see your around 6?”

“Yeah,” he hangs up. You cradle your face in your hands for a moment before taking a deep breath.

-

There’s a knock at your door and you take a deep breath before answering. His shoulders are square and his outfit comfortable. Sweatpants and a jersey looking shirt.

“Hey,” you greet him. He walks right in.

“Hey,” he mumbles as he makes his way to the couch. You sit down with him and before you can help it, you’re leaned against his side, neither of you wanting to talk about the previous day’s events just yet. In the awkward moment of silence you stand up and walk to your room grabbing two pillows. Something has to give.

You walk a back out and toss one to him.

“Come on, let’s fight,” you jump around the living room trying to ease the tension. He quirks a brow.

“Y/n, I’m not hitting y- ,” he’s interrupted by a soft smack to the face with the pillow in your hand.

“Then this’ll be a piece of a cake, which by the way is your prize if you beat me into submission,” you smirk. He looks at you stunned for a moment.

“That’s it,” he stands up with the weaponized pillow and you shriek and run to your room. You climb on your bed and before you know it the two of you are hitting each other with pillows and feathers are flying all around the room. You slip on the blanket and yelp as your back hits the mattress with a soft thud.

Felix takes the prime opportunity to straddle your waist and tickle you. Feathers fly above your heads as he lands softly on top of you with a big grin.

“Ah, no Felix,” you strain through giggles, “Stop,” you try to grab his hands but he pins yours above your head with one hand.

“Felix, I can’t breathe,” your face is flushed pink before he stops and laughs with you. You gasp for air as you realize the compromised position you’re now in. He’s hovering above you with your hands still pinned.

“Lix,” you begin but you don’t have the words. He’s memorizing you. The way you look beneath him, the way your eyes hold a certain vulnerability, the way they look unsure but excited at the same time. The way your chest rises and falls under with each breath. He’s committed to etching this image into his mind, because it may only be a memory.

“Hmm,” he hums as he holds you in position. With one word he’d let you go, with a simple, ‘get off me’ he would, but you hadn’t said the words and he wasn’t moving. When you say nothing in response, his senses take over and he leans down. His lips connect with yours once more, this time more dominant, more sure of what he wants, sure that if this is the last time he kisses you he’s going to make it one you won’t forget.

His tongue ghosts over your bottom lip and you open it slightly allowing him access to your mouth. The minute his tongue touches yours you whimper. His hands cup your face, tilting your head up slightly. Your hands cling on to his arms, desperate to feel him, to ground yourself from the nirvana his mouth makes you feel.

“Lix,” you say against his mouth. He pulls away only for oxygen. Your breaths fan each other’s faces, both of you unsure of what’s really happening.

“So, what, we just make out now? Is that where we are in our relationship?” he asks breathlessly, voice low and teasing.

“You mean, you aren’t madly in love with me?” you tease back.

“Actually, yeah, I am. I’m crazy about you,” he admits. Your brows shoot up.

“Seriously?” you ask yourself more than him. He nods anyway, with a tight lipped smile.

“Want me to prove it?” he quirks a brow and you giggle.

“Do your worst,” you call him out and his lips are back on yours before you know it.

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Masterlist

[lexluvsmegs]

You’re a… what?!

[Choso Kamo x f!reader]

Synopsis ౨ৎ - you and Choso have been friends for quite a while, but after a tipsy game of truth or dare Choso reveals he is in fact a virgin… but you’re determined to change that.

Warnings ౨ৎ - NSFW ⭒ Choso is down bad!! ⭒ unprotected ⭒ riding ⭒ slight mommy and breeding kink ⭒ Choso is a whimpering pathetic mess (but what’s new)

Authors note ౨ৎ - this is a re upload! I realised I needed to fix too many things so I just decided to do another post entirely :))

Word count ౨ৎ - 2.8k

(Minors do not interact!!)

—————————————————————————

Choso was your best friend. And best friends tell each other everything… right?

“Hey, you know Gojo is hosting one of his silly frat parties tonight?” A mischievous glance in Choso’s direction tells him all he needs to know. He can only offer a sigh of acknowledgment as he attempts to return to the project he was previously working on, waiting for the nexts words to roll off your tongue. “Well… I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come this time, since, yknow you never leave your dorm unless it’s to study” you poke fun at the darker haired man sat by your side, thighs grazing one another. It’s not a lie per se, he really did need to let loose and at least try to have some fun… like seriously when was the last time this guy got laid?

Choso, however, doesn’t seem amused by your teasing and throws you an exasperated look as he huffs to himself. You take that as a sign to push further “oh c’mon now, you’ve never gone to a proper house party before.” Your argument falls on deaf ears as he actively ignores your every word. “At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone thought you were some virgin nerd” it was a joke, of course it was, but that didn’t stop Choso’s body from going rigid as his head shot up in an attempt to discern if you were kidding or not. His body only slightly relaxes once he realised you weren’t serious. Huh… weird. You decide to keep whatever questioning comments on what just happened to yourself, instead focusing on the task at hand.

You now fully turn your body to face his, sitting cross legged on your chair as you lean in close, close enough that your warm breath can be felt in the shell of his ear. You don’t seem to notice the shiver that racks through his body due to the close proximity. “Please, would you go for me” you all but whine in his ear. Choso has never really been able to say no to you and he definitely wasnt about to start now. His whole face flushes a shade of deep ruby while he attempts to scramble away, babbling something incoherent. “So?..” he turns to meet your gaze as he calms his breathing. “Uh.. f-fine” yes! This is what you’ve been waiting for. Took him long enough. “Perfect! It starts at 8PM, meet me there? Ugh you don’t know how happy you’ve made me Cho!” You squeal and plant a chaste kiss on his cheek leaving him at a loss for words. And with that you jump out your seat and depart, hips swaying side to side.

And god, did you leave Choso a mess…

—————————————————————————-

You look good, if you do say so yourself.

Maybe, just maybe, the thought that Choso was going to be there made you put in a little more effort when getting ready than you normally would have, but he doesn’t need to know that. You were already slightly tipsy when arriving due to the pres that your friend had hosted. Now you were as confident as ever crossing the threshold into Gojos home. Your eyes surveyed the area - thank god for Gojos open plan - it didn’t take long for your eyes to lock with the breathtakingly dark ones that belong to your best friend. Though as you attempted to make your way over, you were stopped by none other than the home owner himself. “And just as I thought you couldn’t get any sexier” ever the flirt Gojo was. “You’re one to talk, I can barely hold myself back from pouncing on you” you joke back with a wink. You and Gojos friendship was very much a playful one, joke flirting with one another was how you came to be as close as you are now. Obviously, the flirting was never anything serious as he was, well, gay. But not many knew that about him.

As you continued your mindless banter with the silver haired man, you felt someone’s harsh gaze on the two of you. You whipped your head round to find the source of the staring and found it to be none other than Choso. Though as you attempted to wave him over, you found his gaze to be solely focused on Gojo. And damn… if looks could kill. You took this as your sign to excuse yourself and made your way over the dark haired man who still had his eyes trained on poor Gojo.

“Damn, what did Gojo ever do to you” you laugh while sliding up beside him and leaning on the kitchen counter. This seems to break Choso out of his stupor. “I don’t like how he looks at you” you were slightly stunned as he spoke, Gojo? Never. Also since when is Choso so involved in who you associate with. “Uh what? Like a friend? I don’t think I have anything to be worried about” you attempt to lighten the tense air surrounding the both of you however Choso still seems to be in a mood. You definitely need to change the topic “why don’t we take shots? You seem pretty sober baby” the pet name was entirely a mistake, your hazy mind letting it slip, however that doesn’t stop the deep blush and stuttering breaths from Choso. “O-okay” he seems to have snapped out of whatever mood he was previously in. You search Gojos cupboards for two shot glasses and pour both with the alcohol you had brought along with you. “You ready?” You hand the shot glass to Choso and sense his apprehension. “Don’t worry about it if you don’t wanna, but we can do it at the same time if you do” the truth was he had never had any hard liquor before, sure he’d had a beer or two, but this? The promise of you doing it together eased his worries and he nodded as you both drank at the same time. This process repeated a few more times and Choso really started to feel its effects. He had already admired your beauty when you had arrived. But now? How could you look even more beautiful than you do on a daily basis? His heart was beating out his chest as he reached his thumb out to swipe the bead of liquor stuck on your lip.

“Truth or dare time guys! Get your asses in the living room right now” Gojos voice rang out, bringing Choso out of his daze and dropping his hand back down to his side where it lay limp. You hadn’t noticed his attempt and instead turned to him excited at the prospect of a game. “C’mon! We have to go play Cho” though he allowed you to drag him away, it wasn’t without comments calling Gojo ‘childish’ for wanting to play such games. You both sat next to each other as the rest of the guests organised themselves. “Rules are rules guys no pussying out or else” Gojo threatened as he was situating himself “you pick a random person and ask the question, once they’ve answered they ask someone else. Pretty simple right? Oh and if you don’t answer you have to take 10 shots or leave, meaning you basically have to answer” he giggles to himself like he was the smartest person on earth for coming up with such a rule. “Ok begin!” A few rounds go by with Geto being dared to kiss Gojo, Nanami being asked his most adventurous endeavours in bed and shoko being dared to sext the most recent contact in her phone. You were having a blast, unable to hold your laugh in as your friends were forced to answer or do whatever was asked of them. It was now Gojos turn to ask a random person, and to your surprise he chose none other than… “Choso, truth or dare?” The man sat next to you was surprised as he was asked the question, obviously not expecting to properly take part. “Uh, truth?” He spoke out unsure. Gojo, however, had a sly glint in his eye as he spoke out his next words “what’s your body count?” The room went silent in anticipation of Chosos reply, no one really knew anything about his sex life so they’d be lying if they said they weren’t the least bit interested. What came next was a blur, as due to his hazy mind, Choso didn’t think twice before blurting “zero” his face was immediately covered by his hands as he realised what he just confessed to. Choso was a… virgin… before anyone could say anything he stood up and bolted to the nearest bedroom as the rest of the room sat in shock.

As everything registered in your mind, you immediately stood up to follow after him, hearing a faint ‘damn’ from none other than Gojo. You paced down the hall and stood outside of the room Choso had disappeared into, unsure how to proceed. You decide the best course of action is to knock and that’s exactly what you do. “Choso?” Your voice quiet. “It’s me.. can I come in?” You hear sniffles behind the door. “Please Cho?” With that he cracks the door open allowing you to make your own way in, he’s already retreated from the door, now choosing to sit on the edge of the bed. “Baby, what’s wrong” his heart swells at the name however, the humiliation still lingers leaving him to turn his head away from your approaching figure. “I-I’m embarrassed” He’s obviously upset about what had transpired, however you allow him to continue. “Now everyone knows I’m a virgin! Now you know..” his voice quiets down as he says the last part. “Cho, that’s nothing to be ashamed of, I promise. You need to wait for the right person to come along.” You argue, your heart hurts for him as he seems so fragile in this state. “I-I know who I want it to be” your chest feels tight. He already… knows? How could you be so foolish to think maybe you had a chance. The next word tumbles out before you have the will to stop it. “…who?” His soft eyes never leave you as his breaths become laboured. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the fact you looked so hurt when he voiced his interest in somebody. Whatever it was caused a sudden surge of confidence as he whispered the one word you had been silently hoping for.

“You.” It felt like the world had stopped. You found yourself leaning in slowly, never once breaking eye contact as Choso did the same. Before your lips could lock, he whispered one last sentence that shot heat through your entire body “please… please take my v-virginity” that’s all the confirmation you needed as you pushed into him, snaking your hand into his tousled hair while pressing your lips to his own. His whimper sent shocks through you as you climbed into his lap. The once slow and passionate kiss turning desperate as you snuck your tongue inside. You could feel his hard length press up against you as your hips couldn’t hold back from a grinding movement. Soon you had to pull away for air, leaving you both breathless. “You’re so beautiful, been waiting so long for this” you could eat him up. His whimpers left you wanting, no, needing more. You pushed down harder on a particular drag of your hips causing him to hiss out, your mouth latched onto his jaw making your way down and leaving pretty purple marks to grace his skin in your wake. You snake your hand up his shirt feeling the hard indents of his abs. “Take this off baby” your sultry voice has him obeying your every word, as he scrambled to take his shirt off you pushed him back onto the bed up against the headboard. “So pretty f’me Cho” god he could cum on the spot, your praising words fuelled his arousal as he began to push up into you causing a gasp to escape. His needy hands knew no bounds as he ripped your top in pure desperation with the promise of buying you another one which left his mouth in huffs.

“You gonna let me ride you?” You could almost anticipate the response you would get but nothing compared to the real thing, his head nodded desperately as plea after plea was hurriedly rushed out. A giggle escaped you at his eagerness. “Take these off for me then baby” you slightly tug at his sweats and he rushes to pull them, as well as his boxers down in a one-er. Your eyes widen slightly, displaying your complete and utter awe at the length of him, his flushed tip such a pretty pink ready to sink deep inside you. The attention caused poor Choso to squirm. “Is it… bad?” Oh what a precious boy. “Quite the opposite Cho” you wink while removing the rest of your clothes leaving you completely bare before him. His cock twitches against his stomach at the new skin revealed to him, and oh you were much, much better than what he had imagined. You clambered back into his lap, now resting atop his flushed dick allowing your slick to coat his length. The new feeling left him speechless as he babbled to himself, utterly drunk off the feeling of your puffy pussy. “Wan’ more..” Choso could hardly find the words, lost in pleasure. “Good boys use the magic word” you lightly slap his blushing cheek prompting a string of pleas. “Mmm good baby”. You sit up on your knees and reach your hand down to stroke his now slick-coated cock, circling the head and tracing the mouthwatering veins. Slowly you lower yourself, deeming him ready for the real thing. You push the head of his blushing cock through your folds, the gasp that sounded from him when he caught in your hole was heavenly, however you felt you had teased enough and slowly lowered yourself down, swaying your hips in a figure eight as you did so. “F-fuck” he was filling you up so good, you knew in that moment he’d ruined you for anyone else. Choso was unable to keep quiet, tears of ecstasy streamed down his cheeks as he finally bottomed out.

“P-please move, can’t wait” his eyes screwed shut at the overwhelming feeling while your hips moved atop his, finally riding him like you promised, one of his big hands found your tit while his other rested on your hip keeping him grounded. “So pretty, so so pretty f’me” were the only words he could force out between the whines and moans, you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole house could hear these noises, not that you could care in the moment, too lost in pleasure. Choso surprised you by taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling and nipping as he bucked his hips up into you at an uneven tempo. “C-Choso so good” for a virgin he was doing pretty damn well. Your hands once again found purchase in his dark locks slightly pulling on it as the pleasure crashed over you. You could tell he was close and you couldn’t deny you weren’t far off either. You pull Choso away from your nipple and instead guide the hand that rested on one of your tits down to your clit where you instructed him to rub his thumb over. As he did so your walls squeezed him ever so tight. “Y-yeah just like that baby”. His noises were soon cut off by another searing, sloppy kiss fuelled by nothing but desire. Choso was nearing his finish, your gummy walls making it hard to hold out. “C-cum for mommy, Cho” and with that he was seeing stars. Choso had never came so hard, filling you up as you came along side him. “Filling me so good Choso” you whine out. His cum spurting inside you seemingly never ending. “Take it, take it all” he repeated as he kept you firmly on top of his pulsing dick, almost as if he was breeding you.

You soon collapse down onto his broad chest as you catch your breath, legs sore from keeping you up. “Fuck that was so good” Choso voices, clearly dazed and out of breath, he’s never looked so happy as you lean in for another kiss, this one softer and more heartfelt.

“Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?” He questions with an owlish expression, you can’t help but giggle, still on a high after what just transpired.

“Yes”

—————————————————————————

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PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work.

Thank You, Beautiful People!

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

CASUAL

two weeks and his dad invites you to his beach house..

chapter three

NSFW!! MDNI. seriously. please look away.

tim drake x reader

readers can expect: many sexual acts, sex sans condom, shower sex, semi-public fingering, oral like reader receiving and face fucking, blurry relationship lines, missionary and cowgirl, etc. i went buck wild and so reader did too.

one chapter left, it’s just gonna keep getting crazier. thanks for waiting so patiently, it’s a LONG one. enjoy!!

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“well, i need you to decide now.” 

“this would’ve been a lot easier if you’d given me even a week’s notice..” you trail off under your breath, rolling your eyes. 

you’re gonna have to call out of work, and see if your neighbor, or maybe lydia? could water your plants. you’d have to write up a note on which plants need some sun and which need more water than others. you’d need to make sure you have everything you need, from shorts, sandals, a bikini, to definitely something fancier, knowing tim’s family. 

you sigh, shaking your head, lost in thought.

“no?!” tim asks, incredulous. you snap to, blinking. 

“what? no. yes, i’ll go with you. calm down.” you reply, making a face when he huffs at you. 

———————————————————

earlier 

“you look antisocial.” bruce wayne’s voice echoed around the empty den, the ice in his whiskey glass clinking as he set it down.

“i’m the president of a frat. being antisocial is borderline—no, downright impossible.”

bruce rubs a hand over his face, sighing. 

“i know that, tim, and you know that, but we: the family, the frat…” bruce sighs again. “we need the good publicity.” 

“it’s been a few weeks already, though.” tim gestures with his hands, getting exasperated. feeling like he’s trying to climb out of a sand pit. he will not be winning this argument. “doesn’t enough happen in gotham that people have already forgotten?” 

“you’d think, right?” bruce chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “but unfortunately for you, no.”

“but—bruce, i’m not dating right now. who am i supposed to bring?” tim looks incredulous, his hands spread wide. 

“you’ll figure it out.” bruce is hiding a smile behind his whiskey glass, taking a long sip.

“oh, come on—,” tim shuts his mouth when bruce holds up a hand. 

“you have a month.”

———————————————————

the week of..

seagulls call out to each other as the sea crashes beneath them, the sun a spotlight onto this beautiful little town you’d never thought you’d see. 

old, colonial style houses with gardens full of obnoxiously huge hydrangea bushes, beautiful old women walking their pedigree cocker spaniels, golden retrievers, groomed poodles. the town center built on brick, with shops selling salt water taffy and artisanal, locally made ceramics. an old mustang drives past, rumbling down the cracked, well-worn streets. 

the air itself feels premium, a deep breath bringing the fresh smell of clean earth and a lower note of salt from the ocean’s immediate presence. 

it’d be overwhelming if it didn’t seem so perfect, the smile on tim’s face sending your heart stuttering. why didn’t you get out of gotham more often? 

he grabs your suitcase from the trunk, setting it onto the gray gravel of the driveway with a crunch. how did they make even rocks look expensive? you take it, wheeling it over to the front door the best you can, tim behind you. 

“master timothy.” an elderly man dressed to the nines opens the door, his mustache and beard gray but groomed to perfection. “they’re expecting you in the backyard.” 

“we’re late?” you hiss to the boy next to you as he starts after the butler.

“..nah,” tim replies, looking back to give you a lazy and meant-to-be reassuring smile. you breathe in again, thinking about what this place would smell like as a candle.

“timmy…” the closest guy shouts, raising the cup he’s holding. his deep brown skin shines in the sunlight, glistening along with his wet swim trunks as he reclines on the deck furniture. 

the blonde girl next to him turns, along with the girl she was talking to, who’s smaller, with a haircut not too different from tim’s. you try to roll your shoulders back as they take you in, the blonde girl giving you a solicitous smile. 

the back yard is beautiful, and huge, the grassy lawn neverending, the pool attached to an almost pool-sized hot tub and a bar, tall trees surrounding the fence for privacy, but not blocking the sunlight. 

the butler comes out with a tray of sandwiches and a refilled pitcher of lemonade, to cheers from the group.  

the sun starts to set before you know it, and exhaustion sinks into your bones. your face hurts from smiling, voice scratchy from all the talking. 

making a hasty excuse, you scamper inside. the silence of the kitchen helps loosen the vice on your ribs, letting you breathe in the cool air. 

the butler watches you with an amused look from where he stands, behind the kitchen island. you notice him with a start, trying to play it off as the corners of his eyes crinkle into well-worn divots.

“could i please get some water, mr...?” 

“pennyworth. but just alfred, please. and you are?” he extends his hand, nodding as you tell him your name, shaking his hand how you were taught to. “it’s lovely to meet you. would you like a bottle of water or a glass?” 

“just a glass, if that’s alright.” you fidget, putting your hands behind your back. 

“of course it’s alright, dear.” he hands you the glass, filled with frigid water but no ice. you thank him, gulping down a sip. “is there anything else i can do for you? show you your room? the bathroom?” 

“maybe just my room, if it’s okay.” you say, clearing your throat. 

he takes you upstairs, opening the door to your bedroom for the week with a sweeping gesture. your suitcase sits across the bed on the floor, your covers turned down. an open window beckons evening air inside, the smell of salt and flowers drifting into the space. 

“your room, miss.” 

“thank you very much, alfred.”

your new favorite place in the world, and it’s tim’s?

you shut your eyes, burrowing deeper into the cooled sheets and comforter.

tossing and turning, you can’t seem to shake the rolling feeling in your stomach that you’re not really supposed to be here. you settle onto your stomach, your face smushed into the pillow. a soft, cool hand brushes hair from your forehead, trailing down your burning skin to rub your back. 

eyes glued shut, you sigh contentedly. the restlessness leaves you in waves, peace settling into your bones. 

you feel the press of lips against your temple, and you fall into sleep as the presence fades. 

the house is alive, the smell of bacon flirting with your nostrils. you roll out of bed, pulling on a hoodie and putting your hair up. 

you come down the stairs, greeted by a small smile from cass who’s walking a loaded plate of pancakes to the table. your stomach growls, and duke chuckles from behind you.

“don’t worry, alfred’ll get you right.” 

you smile in reply, nodding sheepishly. you follow him to the kitchen, grabbing the plate he hands to you, taking it to the table. 

everything’s set, the bacon’s settled next to a steaming bowl of scrambled eggs, a pitcher of orange juice next to the basket of pre-toasted bread. 

the sound of footsteps hits your ears, tim yawning as he enters the dining room. a faded old hoodie hangs off his shoulders, pajama pants slung low on his hips. he stretches like a cat, overdramatic as ever. but his hoodie rises, and your eyes track the line of hair leading from his navel, disappearing into his waistband. your mouth starts watering, definitely from the food. not because you just remembered his habit of going commando in flannel pajama pants. he passes your side of the table, tugging at your ponytail.

tim seats himself across from you, shooting you a sleepy smirk. dark circles ring his eyes, his hair tousled. 

“good morning,” he says, his voice deep and thick with sleep. butterflies play tag in your large intestine as you and the table return the greeting. 

tim raises an eyebrow, the bacon plate in his outstretched hands. you nod eagerly, and he chuckles quietly at the look on your face. duke chatters to cass about how he hopes to even out his tan at the beach tomorrow, steph quietly talking to alfred about his dinner menu for the week. 

his bare foot pokes yours, and you stretch out your legs, slotting your feet between his on the ground. he leans over the table, the epitome of innocence as he shovels food into his mouth. 

the day is mellow, one spent to laugh and chat with new friends, to twine your fingers into tim’s hair and scratch. 

you’re given a tour of the small town, tim buying you your favorite flavor of saltwater taffy at the candy store, a souvenir necklace, the deep blue pendant made of seaglass. the way it catches the light reminds you of his eyes. 

later, bruce wayne and his eldest son, dick grayson, arrive. cass notices the rumble of the engine first, starting the charge into the house with her siblings following. tim stretches out a hand for you to grab, leading you in. 

“hello, hello!” dick says, gathering his siblings into a big group hug.

he brushes away your hand when you try to shake his, pulling you into a quick hug as well. 

“you must be here with tim,” dick says, his eyes twinkling and full of warmth. “welcome to the family!”

“what do y’all think..family game night?” duke asks, holding open a cupboard door, revealing stacks and stacks of board games.

“not monopoly, though!” steph shouts. “bruce is way too good at that one.”

“i beat him last time we played,” tim whispers into your ear, the smirk on his lips clear in his voice. 

he wins a game of uno, folds quickly in the following game of poker, salt water taffy as the chips. the wrapper crinkles as he pushes the candy out into his mouth, tucking the trash into his pocket. the hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks at the candy shouldn’t be as erotic as it is. 

steph rolls her eyes, pulling her pile of taffy away from him. 

“you always give up so early.” she says, tim’s eyebrow raising in response. 

“what’s it to you,” he replies, crossing his arms. cass laughs, duke chuckling under his breath. 

“either way,” dick says, “i’m gonna smoke you losers.” 

bruce drops his hand, effectively shutting him up. 

“royal flush!” duke shouts, pointing. cass’s eyebrows are touching her hair, her mouth a perfect ‘o’. steph scoffs, snatching up a taffy from her own stash to chew angrily. 

tim smirks, sliding an arm around your shoulders. 

“you’ll get ‘em next time, tiger.”

__________________________________________

the next day

“it’s probably a crime to ignore the way you look in that suit, babe.” 

you scoff, rolling your eyes. “too cheesy. try that on a different girl and see where it gets you. i am not the one.” 

tim smirks, crossing his arms. his sun kissed biceps look back at you as he leans in.

“i’ve gotten your pants off without a word, and i can do it again.” 

“shut it, drake,” you shove him, laughing. 

“usually i try to open it, doll.” he replies, and you roll your eyes again, starting down the beach. 

you look back, adding a sway to your hips when you see his eyes locked onto your retreating figure.

“tease!” he shouts after you. 

you bask in the sunlight, sliding your sunglasses up to watch the guys toss around a football. dick throws a perfect spiral to duke, who jumps to catch it one-handed. tim tackles him into the sand, dick cackling all the while. 

cass motions to you, and steph nods, stretching her long legs out onto the blanket, feet nested in the sand. 

“so,” she starts, tilting her head as she looks at you. “you and tim, huh?” 

you blush, nodding. cass rolls her eyes at steph, giving her a look. 

“yeah, yeah.” steph says, shaking her head. “look, did he tell you about us?” 

you furrow your eyebrows, tearing your eyes away from the boys by the water. 

“his family? of course.” you say, unsure. cass sighs.

“no, like, me and him,” steph says, her words sending your stomach off of a 50 foot cliff. 

“..no, he hasn’t.” you say, keeping your tone light. 

“we used to date, that’s all. nothing special for me, or anything.” she waves her hand. “water under the bridge, for sure. definitely got closer with his family, in the long run.” cass nods approvingly, giving you a reassuring smile.

“like, i promise there’s nothing there. it was a long time ago and we realized we’re much better off broken up.”

“okay,” you say, drawing circles in the sand.

“i just wanted to make sure you knew,” she continues, as you look up. “i knew he was never going to say anything.” 

you nod, leaning back onto your hands. “well, no hard feelings. i promise.” 

steph gives you a firm nod in return, her lips pulling into a grin. 

“i think we’ll be good friends.” 

cass hands you a peach ring from the bag. 

—————————————————

later, 

you head upstairs to shower before dinner, tim waiting a beat before following you up the stairs. 

he can barely take it, thinking about how you looked on the beach today. 

he wanted to take you right there on the sand, roll around with you until he had you on top of him, hips clapping into his as you bounce on his cock. 

he had to get you away, all to himself.

it was almost dinner time anyways. you two should probably work up an appetite, no?

steam envelops the room, the beat of the water on tile drowning out the soft moans that escape from your lips. your leg’s wrapped around his waist as he pounds into you, his eyes darkened with desire. tim’s barely able to hold back the rough noises leaving him, grunting as he watches the way your tits bounce with each of his thrusts. 

need burns through his body, sending waves of heat off of him onto you. you know he’s about to come, can see it in the furrow of his brows and stutter of his hips. 

he moans into the crook of your neck as he finishes, burying his hot cum deep inside of you.

you blink and tim’s beneath you, your back pressed against the shower wall as your leg rests on his shoulder. 

a rough lick across your clit has you arching away from the pristine tile, tim’s first three fingers buried inside of you, pushing his cum deeper. 

he’s relentless, sucking at your clit, messily shoving his fingers farther and farther into your pulsing hole. you can’t take it, the sensation making your thighs shake, your toes curl. you throw a hand over your mouth as you cry out. and before you know it:

you’re coming onto his tongue, and he laps it up, suckling and kissing away the mixture of your fluids. 

he kisses his way over your stomach, licking a flat stripe up the valley of your breasts. you grip at his back, scratching into the muscled skin. he moans from where he’s situated, sucking your nipple into his mouth as he works the other with his fingers, arousal burning ever hot between your thighs. he moves, and your resulting whine is swallowed by him as he kisses you, passion laced in his lips as his tongue dances with yours. you lean into him, arms around his neck, letting him hold you up on your shaky legs. 

gathering shampoo into his hands, he lathers it into bubbles before massaging it into your scalp. you practically go limp, his long fingers working, fingernails softly scratching. 

he carefully rinses out every sud, smoothing conditioner into your hair to let it sit as he grabs the soap bar. 

he slides it along your skin, his flushed cheeks and swollen lips making your heartbeat pound so loudly in your ears it’s a wonder that he can’t hear it.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

dinner’s at the local lobster restaurant, their neon sign winking at you as you enter. 

you’re happy: it’s not somewhere hoity-toity with seven spoons just for different courses. you know how to eat lobster, you know how to get messy. 

the plate in front of you makes your mouth water. you’re famished, the butter dripping off the corn on the cob and pooling under the herb-laden lobster has you blinking in disbelief. 

the rest of the table digs in, and duke watches in awe as you crack your lobster easily. 

“how’re you so good at that??” he asks, jaw dropped. 

you giggle, sucking the butter off of your finger, extremely aware of tim tracking the movement like he’s a wolf and you’re a bunny. funny, he does chase after you wherever you go, doesn’t he?

you beckon to duke, who hands you his plate. the shell of his lobster cracks easily for you, even with your butter-greased fingers. you slide it back over to him, bruce giving you a nod, a warm smile. 

“she’s so cool, but she never has the time to do anything. trust me, i’ve asked.” dick sighs.

you ponder this, pointing your seafood pick at him. 

“are you sure she’s not just saying she’s busy?” you ask, and dick’s eyes widen.

“yes, i swear. she’s got a ton going on. always, always working.” he says.

you nod, chewing on another bite of food.

“just take her lunch. on her break. find out where she likes to eat and what her order is and bring it to her. have a date at her workplace.” 

duke and dick’s eyes widen in unison, and duke nods. 

“dude. that’s perfect.” 

“why didn’t i think of that?!” dick says, disbelief painted across his face. the face he’s making along with the plastic bib is too much for everyone, just beyond comical. 

steph giggles beside you as cass snorts, the table dissolving into laughter. even tim chuckles, shaking his head. 

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

that night 

“it’s not like he was given a month in advance, or anything.”

you can feel yourself opening and closing your mouth like a fish. A MONTH?

and he took his sweet time, too. floundering around, always looking like he needed to say something to you every time he saw you. 

god, he’s so baffling!

“he—he asked me two days ago.” you’re looking at your hands, folded in your lap. you were barely even able to squeak out that sentence to her, feeling like it was some big secret or something.

“you’re his girlfriend, and he took a month to ask you to come on a family vacation? we do these every year, the date is always on the calendar..” steph’s looking at you with wide eyes, shaking her head. she looks baffled too. that’s somewhat reassuring.

a low knock sounds at your door. you look to steph, who shrugs. 

“yeah?”

no reply, just tim sweeping the door open before lifting his arms to hold onto the door frame. 

steph rolls her eyes, and you just look at him expectantly. 

“steph, i need to talk to her.”

“..okay?” 

he leans against the frame, crossing his arms. his biceps bulge, looking bigger in the low light of the lamp. 

“alone?” 

steph looks to you, and after you nod, gets up with a sigh. 

“yeah. whatever.” 

she brushes past him, and he moves quickly, the door closed and click locked behind him. 

“what do you want,” you start, but he’s over to you before you can blink. his arms circle your waist, and your palms rest on his chest, smooth, like it was choreographed. 

“you.” he smiles as you roll your eyes. “i missed you.” 

“….uh-huh.” 

he pulls you impossibly closer, looking deep into your eyes. 

“you’re so cute when you’re annoyed with me.” 

you try to push him off, and he relents. but instead he grabs your hands, walking back until he hits the bed, sitting. you’re standing over him now, your hands naturally going to his neck as you play with his hair. he’s been letting it grow since summer started, but you know he’ll probably want to cut it soon. 

you thread your fingers into the little curling hairs at his nape, cherishing the length while he has it. you know he’ll spend a week after his trip to the family barber obsessively looking in the mirror and messing with his bangs until he’s (barely) satisfied. 

“where’d you go?”

you blink, his gaze boring into yours. you feel your cheeks heat as you realize he’s been studying you as you drifted into nowhereville thinking about his haircut habits. ridiculous. 

“nunya.”

he scoffs, an amused look on his face as he raises an eyebrow at you. 

“oh, really?”

“mmhm. yep.”

he digs his thumb into your hip, right where you’re ticklish, and you yank a little where your hand is gripped into his hair. 

“okay, okay,” he holds his hands up in surrender, and seeing the opportunity, you grab them and push him onto the bed, straddling his hips. 

he makes a surprised noise that has you stifling a giggle as you hold his hands above his head. 

your turn. 

“you think it’s sooo cuuute when i’m annoyed, huh?”

he nods, a stupid grin on his face. 

“you’ve got that right.” 

—————

he moans into your mouth, one that would’ve been loud, were you not tongue deep. 

you roll your hips against him again. you can feel the wet spot on his boxers through your panties, and you lean back to tug him free. 

his length bobs out, and he’s hard as a rock, a pearl of pre glistening on his tip. you swipe it off with your thumb and he slaps a hand to his mouth to stifle a groan. you’ve been relentless, to say the least. and you don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. you push his bared cock against his stomach, not bothering to remove anything but your shirt as you rock back and forth against it. 

“god, fuck! fuck me,” he pants, his hands gripping into your thighs in a way that’ll no doubt bruise. 

“i will if you’re good.”

“if i’m good—,” 

and you know he would’ve finished his sentence in some smart-aleck way if you hadn’t leaned back, running a finger over his tip. 

his exhale is a whimper, his eyes slammed closed. 

you pull your panties to the side, spreading your folds over his shaft. the wet warmth of the spot between your legs has tim hissing, his hands clenched so tightly at your hips you’ll be bruised in the morning. you move your hips back, sitting up on your knees. 

he looks so concerned, you giggle, the idea of you moving just devastating to him. 

you grab his cock, pumping it in your hand before lining it up with your entrance. you’re so wet, so ready, that you bottom out easily. you’re not paying any attention to tim, your hands planted on his chest as you roll your hips over his, the friction sending shocks of pleasure up your body. you press tim further into the mattress, his groans mixing with the wet sound of your bodies melding together. 

“tim,” you pant, and he knows immediately, starting up exactly where you stopped, his hips lifting from the bed to drive his cock deeper into you. throwing your head back, you suppress a moan feeling the way tim’s hitting that perfect spot.  

__________________

tim can’t believe how good it feels to have you clench around him like that, pulling him further in. his back is damp with sweat, his skin hot against yours. 

he loves having you underneath him like this, letting him pound you into the bed like you don’t have to walk around tomorrow. 

your nails scratch into the soft skin of his back, the thought of bearing evidence of your pleasure makes his eyes roll back. 

he whimpers into the crook of your neck as he fucks into you, the roll of his hips driving him deeper and deeper still. 

but you want his attention. you need his attention. you’re not just some plaything of his.

“so i’m your girlfriend, huh?” you grit out, fingers grabbing at his chin to keep his eyes on yours. 

“where’d you hear that one?” tim replies, his slanted brows becoming angry slashes on his face, the darkness exaggerating his features in an unrecognizable way. 

“your family, tim.” you say, smirking when you feel his hips stutter and stop, the look on his face making you giggle. “what, like i wasn’t gonna hear about it? i’m living in your dad’s house.” 

he’s opening and closing his mouth like a fish, and when he opens it again, you stick your middle and ring fingers in. his eyes widen with surprise, but he relents, sucking on your digits, swirling his tongue around them. 

“now move.” you say, feeling him jump inside of you. he can act high and mighty all he wants, but he’s aching to finish just as much as you are. tim starts up again, snapping his hips into yours. 

you pull your fingers out with a pop, using how wet they are to rub circles on your clit, just how you like it. tim’s eyes are huge, he’s unable to stop watching the way you’re using him for your own pleasure. 

two can play at that game, can’t they?

—————————————————————————

the next day

you’d really love to be concentrating on the conversation you’re in, but that’s borderline impossible with the way tim’s playing with your clit. 

his fingers pet over your lacy underwear, hidden by the long tablecloth and your dress. 

you fight the urge to curl your toes in your dressy sandals, tim’s hand nothing but a hard surface to grind up against. as he chats with mr. whoever about who knows what, he’s pulling your panties to the side, sliding a finger through the gathering slick to then push it into you. 

you stop breathing, thinking about the amount of people surrounding the two of you. 

he’s slow, methodical, trying to make you loud while he stays quiet.

he turns his attention back to your clit, noting the way it’s making you squirm.  

you turn the resulting moan into a cough, nothing tim’s smirk. asshole. 

tim rubs slow circles around the little pink bud, tutting under his breath at you when you try to cross your legs. you sigh, giving him a little nod, and he continues, pulling you right to the edge just to stop. you bite back a gasp at the sudden lack of stimulation, your pulse pounding out a beat between your legs. 

you’re coming around his fingers, pussy clenching as you try to pull him deeper. you feel heat creeping up your neck, burning your ears and cheeks as you fall apart for him in public, the noise of the party growing louder and louder in your ears. you grab your drink, gulping down the cool liquid. 

he pulls his hand away, slowly, nonchalant as ever. 

your pussy flutters around the lack of him, and you ache for another release, three, four. you doubt you’ll ever be truly sated when it comes to tim and the things he does to you.

he grabs his glass, spilling a little on his fingers. without so much as a glance to you, he sucks the liquid off of his middle digit, the one still warm from being inside of you. 

“well, montgomery, i think that if you continue to build your portfolio in such a way, it'll cause financial ruin down the road. i suggest you have it sent to my father’s assistant at wayne enterprises and i’ll take a look at it for you, find you some new stock.” 

mr. montgomery nods at tim’s suggestion, obviously trying to suppress how eager he is at the chance to have timothy drake-wayne look at his poor attempts at investing. 

ice clinks in glasses as soft music floats over the garden from the band in the corner, string lights twinkling overhead. 

his arms cross over your lower back, guiding you to sway along to the beat as you rest your head on his shoulder, your arms circling his neck. 

the spot between your thighs still aches from where his hand was, where his fingers had been pushed deep inside of you. 

you know you’re being watched, a sweet smile plastered to your face as the select few members of the press allowed in snap shots of you and tim. 

you can still feel your pulse down there, and you pull ever closer to tim. you feel his already hard cock react, twitching from where it’s pressed between your bodies.

haven’t even touched him, but he’s walking around with his need for you obvious. you’re shocked he hasn’t pulled you into an empty bedroom yet. 

probably too much press present.

the song ends, and tim breaks the embrace, those on the dancefloor clapping politely for the band. 

he leads you off to the side, saying he’s going to grab something to drink. you nod, feeling eyes on you, trying to not look like you’re shrinking into the corner, but trying to shrink into the corner. 

you’re in all white, pristine linen that feels dirty from being pressed up against tim like that in front of press, bruce’s friends, his family. 

it’s been awhile now, and the crowd’s cleared away from the little poolside bar, no tim in sight. 

“hey,” dick says, sidling up next to where you’re waiting. “you all good?” 

his thick eyebrows are knitted with concern, and he’s so endearing you can’t help but want to tell him the truth. 

“yeah,” you smile, watching his face relax in response. “just waiting for tim. he said he’d grab me something to drink, but..” you look around, lifting your hands as you shrug. 

“well then, this is perfect.” dick says, handing you one of the champagne flutes he’s holding. 

“thank you!” you gush, beaming up at him, cheeks rosy. did manners skip a generation in this family? 

dick returns your smile, grabbing your elbow to pull you closer as a guest pushes by. he asks about school, interrogating you about your major. 

he smirks when you talk about the mess hall food, laughs at a retelling of the time you fell down the stairs in a lecture hall, nods with fervor when you talk about protests on campus, eyes crinkling when you bemoan the way bubblegum flavored vodka smells on drunk breath. you don’t remember the last time someone paid this much attention to you, his eyes locked on yours as you talk with your hands, gesturing about with your glass. 

the golden, bubbling liquid has you babbling, giggling over whatever quip dick inserts into the conversation. you realize that you’re being rude, cutting yourself off abruptly, much to dick’s surprise. 

“but enough about me! what’s going on with you?” you rush out, shutting your mouth to give dick the stage.

dick chuckles, his grin like a little spotlight. 

“i’ve been working for the nonprofit side of wayne enterprises recently, trying to get a feel of where we could best help gotham.” he starts, and a sense of hope rises in your chest, flutters its wings delicately against your ribcage. 

“that sounds wonderful, dick!” you say, feeling yourself smiling like a dork. what a good idea. “does tim help with stuff like that?” 

dick notes the hopeful tilt in your voice, the responding sinking feeling in his chest. he’s got to take the chance while he can. 

“sometimes, but look—,” he starts, sighing into his glass. “tim’s not..he’s never been in a good relationship, honestly.” 

you look up, confused. 

“and that’s never been the fault of the other person.” he runs a hand through his hair, a little apprehensive. his eyes dart around. “that’s all i’ll say on the subject.” 

your mind’s reeling, moving through thoughts at lightning speed. you can’t say you’re surprised, but can you even do better? 

his face when he laughs flashes in your brain, the deep blue of his eyes, the little smile he gives you when he sees you after a long time. how he holds you, teases you. he brought you flowers on your birthday, paid for you to get your car a brand new radiator, driving you everywhere when it was in the shop getting fixed. 

the forehead kisses, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the press of his lips on your neck. you’d turn the way he smells into a candle if you could, a cologne that you could spray everywhere he wasn’t. 

the way he holds your hand, like he’s scared you’ll run if he lets go. the look on his face when you talk about guys in your classes, moving away from gotham after college.

and—

what would’ve happened if you’d met dick first? his blue eyes that hold a warning, contrasting with his light brown skin and his smile: one that’s easy, that he wears often. 

or stephanie, tim’s ex-girlfriend? would she have warned you away? held you close to her instead, defending you as a best friend would?

or even cass, silent, and obviously endeared towards her family—it seemed as if even through her love she was able to see past the shiny teeth and empty promises tim peddled. 

but you? it was too late for you. you were in much, much too deep. 

tim had to run off to the bathroom. there was no other way. he felt like he was going to explode if he didn’t. 

he darted up the stairs, knowing the house would be completely empty. locking the door to his bathroom (the one en suite to his room) he undoes his belt with practiced speed, yanking his boxers down. 

the ones he’s wearing are your favorites, the pair you steal to wear every time you sleep over. the thought sends his cock jerking, the tip red and swollen, already dripping precum. the last time he was this hard you’d been on your knees under him, and that memory alone almost has him repainting the bathroom door.

you were so ready for him, sitting next to him at dinner. so warm, and so, so wet. the feeling of you clenching around his fingers is all he can think about as he fucks his hand, bracing himself against the counter. your little gasps, the thin line your lips formed as you tried to bite back moans, all while tim was two fingers deep in your pretty pussy, curling his digits further into you. was he not supposed to react? 

and then dancing afterwards, his body pressed to yours lengthwise—he’d already been hard, but was practically dizzy from how fast the rest of his blood rushed to his cock. 

so that’s why he’s here, biting his lip so hard he’s probably drawing blood, harshly tugging at the length of his cock, eyes squeezed shut.  

tim groans, cum covering his hand as he shudders, breathing heavily. 

cleaning himself up, he hears laughter from the backyard. happy, full laughter, not the kind that most guests at the party would have. but you’re not most guests. tucking his shirt back in, he buckles his belt. 

he leans over, peering down through the window pane to try and get a glimpse of who you were so animatedly talking to. he goes up on the balls of his feet, and growls.

his brother.

“getting her drunk, dick?” tim’s voice sends a chill up your spine, feeling his presence behind you. you look down at your drink, watching the bubbles float to the surface, popping when they reach the top. tiny little deaths, tiny little fireworks. 

“no, just doing what you couldn’t.” dick replies, a tight-lipped smile glued to his face for onlookers. 

you try to suppress the shocked expression you feel your features reaching towards, opting to take another swig. you sling an amicable smile at dick, looping your arm through tim’s as he glares at his brother. 

in an attempt to ease the tension, you turn to tim. 

“have you chosen your classes for next semester yet?” 

“hm?” tim replies, distracted. “oh, my career consultant does that for me.” he smiles, that cheshire cat smile, and grabs your drink from you, tilting his head back as he finishes it. 

“did you hear she’s planning to ask bruce for a letter of rec?” dick says, smiling warmly at you, but addressing tim. 

“she..what?” tim looks at you, his eyebrows furrowing, his facial expression leaning into incredulity. 

“yeah, for my international affairs internship this fall. i told you about it last month, and..” you trail off, remembering that he hadn’t seemed like he was listening then, either. “well, anyway, i figured mr. wayne would be a good person to ask, and dick agreed, so.” 

you shrug, feeling like you’re shrinking by the second. 

“i’ll help you, babe. good idea.” tim relents, punctuating his sentence with a kiss to your temple. 

looking down, you squint. what is that on tim’s shoe?

——————————————————————————

the next day 

“you’re full of shit, drake,” a voice growls from the speaker of his phone. tinny, but the power behind it is evident nonetheless. 

“me? i’m full of shit, todd. me.” tim spits out, body language directed at his phone like the caller is really there. 

“did i stutter?”

tim scoffs, a sneer distorting his features as he delivers his next blow. 

“i don’t know why i entertain this. you. one push of the button and you’re dead to me.” 

“that was low, drake, but i can’t say i expected anything else.” 

“hmph.” tim’s scrubbing his hands over his face, through his hair. 

“but this shit? stop being such an asshole. i know that’s almost impossible for you,” the voice continues. “but this poor girl doesn’t deserve it. i have half a mind to pay her fucking college tuition. in your name, mind you.” 

tim’s rendered speechless, opening and closing his mouth. the voice chuckles. 

“you want me to stop selling to your ‘frat bros’?” the speaker says, the end of his sentence dripping in sarcasm. 

“i think i made that plenty clear,” tim says, words being grit out from behind his teeth. 

“so stop being a shithead.” 

tim’s fist clenches, and he almost hangs up. 

“still don’t see what the fuck this’s got to do with her.” he says. 

“you don’t need to see anything. i’m trying to keep the people of gotham safe.”

“..by selling them drugs?” tim laughs, sounding a little crazy. 

“mmph, well. if that’s how you want to phrase it, then yes.”

the call disconnects, and tim tosses his phone on his bed, a little too harshly. 

_________________

“let’s go.” tim snarls, pulling you into your room from the hallway. his grip on your hand loosens when he notices how wide your eyes are. 

he’s wearing that look on his face where he wants to yell but won’t. the resulting silence is usually worse than if he’d just do it. 

“is everything okay?” you ask, keeping your tone light.

his response is a jerky nod, grabbing your things from the dresser to toss into your open suitcase on the floor.

“can you at least fold them?” you plead, and he glances at you. you’re smirking, but it falters when you see the cold fury in his eyes.

you push the door closed, locking it before coming to stand right in front of him. 

his eyes widen when you drop to your knees, unbuckling his belt, pulling his boxers and jeans down. 

you pull at his shaft until he’s hard, cooing over his angry, red tip and cupping his balls in your hand. 

kissing along the side of his cock, he threads his fingers into your hair as he watches you go down on him. 

his lips are pulled tight as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth, to fuck your face. but that’s why you’re on your knees.

“let loose, drake.”

he nods, letting out a shaky sigh. you brace your hands on the top of his thighs, relaxing your throat as he slowly pushes himself deeper into your mouth. 

he keeps an eye on your face, watching your reaction as he slowly starts to thrust, your cheeks hollowed as your lips stretch to fit his cock.

tears stream down your cheeks, your hair tangled into tim’s fingers as he uses your mouth to get off. he’s gentle, but his pace is still relentless, your mouth so wet and warm. the look on his face is almost pained, like it feels too good. you know he loves having control like this, figured it would be the quickest way to calm him down, tire him out too much to be angry without actually dropping your pants. 

you look up at him, holding eye contact as he watches you bury your nose into the tuft of curls at the base of his cock. one last push of his hips, and you know he’s done, informed by months of experience at the way his stomach muscles tighten and he throws his head back.

a groan escapes from behind his gritted teeth, his hands gripping harder at your hair as he comes in your mouth. 

white, hot ropes of cum paint the back of your throat in excess as he falls apart, your hands pumping his length to get every last drop. 

he moans, eyes rolling back as you bob your head. but he stops you before you can get him worked up again, arousal rolling through his body as you let him out with a pop. 

you pull his pants back up, and he buckles them, getting you on your feet and leading you to the bed where he sits you on his lap. 

tim wipes your tears away, licking his thumb to smudge off runny makeup. you get a kiss on the forehead as he smooths your hair down, a kiss on the lips as he rubs your aching knees. 

__________________________________

rolling down the window, you wave like a little kid to your new friends, beaming at alfred, who returns the favor with a shy smile and a raised hand. 

“bye!”

“bye! see you later! bye!”

“bye cass, steph!! bye dick!! bye duke!!” you quickly pull yourself back into the car when tim tugs on your shirt, and once you’re buckled he rolls up your window.

he settles his hand onto your thigh as he makes his way down the driveway, speeding off down the road.

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tim drake's fan club:

(taglist)

@dfgcbgdc @benditlikegumby93 @agent-nobody-knows @jaybunsblog @astermos-74 @ravenna-reid @borutoistrash1-blog @slut4animedilfs @nuggget-consumer-9000 @turtleturtleturtleturtleneck @hellishattempt @trashhighwaybird @sergeant-angels-trashcan @lilithskywalker @natsukicookies @flowrs-on-an-empty-windowsill @athenastar27 @timdrakeisasugardaddy @1cxndy

(also added those interested in new parts, i can remove you from the taglist, just ask!)

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[aryadelvich]

Luigi and reader are baking a cake and reader applies a small amount of cake batter on Luigi’s face (near his birth mark). She then grabs his face to lick it off and he makes a swift move to kiss her 💋💋. FRENCH KISSING with tongue 😏

I never sent a request sometimes I write but I want to connect with more Luigi writers hope all is well🩷😊.

Chef - Luigi Mangione x reader

First of all I’m honoured to be one of your first request ! Second of all I love your idea, it’s so cute !!!🥰 Thank you very much for your request !!! 💕💕

"Luigi, you're making a mess!" you exclaimed in frustration. You had been in the kitchen for over an hour, trying to bake a cake for one of your friends, but it was turning into complete chaos.

"Shhh, let the chef work," he said, focused, stretching out his muscular arm like a barrier to stop you at your waist.

"The chef?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm the head chef. Now move aside kitchen assistant, I need that."

You didn’t budge, so he had to press against you to reach the bowl he was aiming for. The funny thing was, this had been your idea in the first place, but now Luigi was acting like he was in charge. He energetically mixed the batter.

"Luigi, you're getting it everywhere."

"Don't worry about it. Besides, I don't see you working, Y/N."

"I'm the taste tester. My job comes at the end."

"You won’t get to taste anything if I fire you first," he shot back playfully.

You and Luigi were close friends. You had the same friend group, went to the same university, and liked pretty much the same things. And you adored him—he was so kind, caring, funny, and, most of all, intelligent.

"Okay! Fine, I’ll help," you gave in, grabbing the bowl and pouring the batter into the cake mold.

"Good girl," he teased sarcastically.

"Don't ever call me that," you warned.

"Or what?" he says, a provocative look on his face.

Without thinking, you scooped up some leftover batter with your fingers and smeared it all over his face.

"You’re going to regret that!" he exclaimed.

You immediately took off running, but he was faster. He caught up to you with ease, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you slightly off the ground.

"No, okay, I’m sorry!" you faked an apology—one you absolutely didn’t mean.

"Too late. I hold grudges. Hmm… what would happen if I rubbed my face in your hair?"

"No! Not my hair! I washed it yesterday," you protested.

"Oh yes! I know all about your hair-washing schedule. What if I ruined it?" he threatened playfully.

"How do you even know that? That’s a girl secret!"

"I have two older sisters, remember? And don’t try to change the subject. Now, what should I do with you?"

"No, please, Luigi! I’ll fix this!"

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Let me go, and I’ll show you."

He slowly released his hold, his touch having been gentle from the start. You wiped some of the batter off his face with your finger and popped it into your mouth.

"Mmm, delicious," you said mischievously.

"You might as well lick me like a cat while you're at it," Luigi muttered.

"Would that make you uncomfortable?"

"Yes."

"Then I’m definitely doing it!"

He burst into laughter. That was the first thing he had liked about you—your ability to never take things too seriously. You stepped closer, cupping his face in your hands. As you leaned in to lick the remaining batter, he turned his head at the last second… Your lips grazed each other, a fleeting touch—too light to be a kiss, yet enough to make your breath hitch.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You just stared at each other, hearts pounding in sync, the air between you charged with something unspoken. Then, almost as if drawn by an unseen force, you both leaned in at the same time.

And finally, your lips met.

He pressed closer, desperate to feel more of you, to take more of you. His lips were warm, soft, yet urgent against yours. His breath mingled with yours, heavy and uneven. His hands found your hips, gripping them firmly, as if afraid you might slip away.

You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Your fingers wove through his curls, tugging slightly, making him shudder. A low moan escaped him, unrestrained—too many emotions hitting him all at once. He was burning.

His tongue teased the seam of your lips, and you parted them without hesitation, inviting him in. He deepened the kiss, a quiet hum vibrating in his throat, sending a shiver down your spine. The intensity of it all left you breathless, dizzy. And when you finally broke apart, gasping for air, reality came crashing back, your forehead still brushing against his.

A silence settles between you. The kind that says too much.

Then Luigi lets out a quiet laugh, as if trying to break the tension. "Well… I guess we just reached a new level of friendship."

You raise an eyebrow, trying to regain your composure. "Oh yeah? Is that the level where we kiss and pretend it doesn’t mean anything?"

He tilts his head slightly, that familiar smirk playing on his lips. "Exactly."

You hold his gaze, searching for the truth beneath his humor. Because you know him. You know when he’s pretending everything is fine. But you don’t push. You don’t want to. After all, your heart is still racing, and you’re not ready to admit why.

So you laugh, because it’s easier. Because it’s you two.

"Alright, so we’ll just pretend this never happened," you say, stepping back slightly, even though his body is still so close.

"Of course," he agrees, finally letting go of your waist. But his fingers brush against yours for just a second too long before he truly pulls away.

And that’s how you both silently decide that nothing has changed.

Except everything has.

In the days that follow, everything seems normal. You still hang out together, exchange the same jokes, talk about everything and nothing.

But then there are thosemoments.

Those stolen seconds where your eyes meet and neither of you looks away. Where his arm grazes yours, and neither of you moves.

Those fleeting instants when you wonder if he feels it too—that friendship isn’t quite the right word for whatever this is anymore.

But neither of you says anything. Because it’s easier that way.

Because admitting it means risking everything.

[actuallysaiyan]

The Sacred Bride(Gyutaro Shabana x Fem!Reader)

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mentions of eating humans, blood mentions, godlike worship, virginity loss, vaginal fingering, oral sex(fem receiving), lewd themes, dark themes, slight dub con, religious themes word count: 2k pairings: Gyutaro Shabana x Fem!Reader summary: you've looked for Gyutaro for so long. in your village, he is revered as god. when you find him, you realize that maybe he doesn't just want to eat you... dividers by: @adornedwithlight

The abandoned house comes into view. You feel relieved that finally you’ve made it. You’ve been traveling for days now and you were wondering if you’d ever find this place. It was on the outskirts of the entertainment district. Not something you were very familiar with given you’ve grown up in a small village very far away. But your goal was nearly in sight.

You cautiously open the door. There’s a stench of iron and filth in the air. Yet you don’t let this deter you. You push forward, looking in all the rooms. Then you begin to hear something upstairs. The sun had set about forty minutes ago, so you knew that the one you were looking for wouldn’t be in hiding.

He’s hunched over, sitting on the dilapidated bed. It smells like iron in here too, much stronger than downstairs. He turns around quickly when he senses you, making you gasp and nearly fall over. He begins to scratch at his neck furiously.

“Well, well, well…what do we have here? Hm?”

He walks over to you and your heart races in your chest. Before he can touch you, you begin to bow down to him. This confused Gyutaro completely, making him freeze in his tracks. This little human is now bowing down to him. What did he do to deserve anything like this?

“I finally found you!”

He cocks his head to the side. “You’ve been looking for me? Why?”

He’s distrustful of you. But you knew this would happen. All the legends of him spoke of how he was more than likely shy and didn’t take nicely to strangers. But to you and your people, he was perfect. There were stone structures in your village and stone tablets depicting his beauty to you. Him and his sister, but really he was the most important one.

“Shabana-dono, please…I have been searching for you for so long. I have finally found you.”

You reach into your bag and pull out one of the stone tablets you were allowed to bring with you. You place the tablet in front of you and Gyutaro stares at it in shock. That is most definitely his face. That’s him alright, carved into the stone tablet.

“You are the one I’ve been searching for.”

This causes him to scratch his neck furiously some more. A blush settles on his cheeks. You’re surprised to see your god acting so bashfully like this, but it does endear him quite a bit. You look up at him and offer him a smile.

“My village sent me to you,” you explain as you sit on your knees. “They sent me as a gift. You have your choice, as I am a virgin. You can either have me as your sacrifice, or as your bride.”

The words send his mind reeling. As a sacrifice? Oh that would be much too easy. You would have been eaten and devoured so little time ago had you not been so easy on the eyes. Gyutaro thinks about how he could easily have you as his bride too. What a nice gift the universe has finally decided to offer him.

His eyes bore into your own, looking for any signs of dishonesty. But all he sees is pure devotion and even a hint of love. You were really here to be offered up as a gift from some far away land. Gyutaro wonders if this is finally a recompense for the horrid atrocities he and Daki had to go through.

“Bride, you say?” He asks, trying to sound suave in his own right. “You are certainly a cute little thing. You promise you’re a virgin?”

You nod and blush. “You can check for yourself, Shabana-dono.”

The sound of you using that honorific on him has him shuddering. He’s never heard anyone use an honorific like that on him. A smirk spreads on his face as he helps you up to your feet. You look up at him, blessed to finally be with him.

“Oh, you are so adorable.” He leans in closer. “I could just eat you up.”

There’s a soft smile on your face. Whether he decides to feast on your supple flesh or to use you as his own personal breeding bitch, you know you’ll be honored. He kind of likes this, it’s his own little game now.

Then you are pushed back on the dilapidated bed. He looks at you the way a predator watches its prey. He gets on the bed as well, and you watch as he flashes his sharp teeth at you. Before you can react, he presses his lips to yours. It’s a sloppy kiss, but you don’t pay that any mind. In fact, it feels so good to be kissed by him.

You gently run your hands up and down his sides, making him shudder. He’s never felt such a loving touch before. Everything feels so weird and so different. You are so lovely too. How could he be so lucky? Surely, this was a divine gift. And he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when it was offering him such beauty. Still, he felt suspicious.

When he pulled away, he was expecting to find you looking at him in disgust. Instead, you were looking at him so lovingly. It made him feel so warm inside. Nobody ever yearns for him. Not when his beautiful sister exists. So to see you looking at him like this, his suspicion seems to disappear.

“You really…came to look for me?”

You nod. “Yes, I am your gift.”

The semantics and logic aren’t perfect, but for the first time, Gyutaro wants to throw caution to the wind. He presses you down onto the bed, undoing the obi to your kimono. He would take his time undressing you; unwrapping you like a christmas gift that he’s never had the chance to experience.

You’re beautiful. You’ve got silky skin that he’s so scared to nick with his claws. You’ve got the most beautiful eyes; your loving glances make him feel so warm. Then your smile, oh that smile…it’s sweet and graceful. As he continues to undress you, he realizes that he’s developing some feelings for you. It may be fast, but you are his after all. Who’s to tell him how to react and behave?

You lay naked on the bed, a pure canvas. Gyutaro’s cock hardens as he looks at you, and the way you just keep looking up at him with a certain gaze that seems to say ‘it is my honor to lose my virginity to you’. It’s such a turn on for him to see you like this. He spreads your thighs, his long fingers brushing up against your folds.

“Can I really check?” He toys with you, playing with your little clit now. “Can I see if you’re a virgin?”

You nod eagerly. “Of course. I’m all yours.”

The power he has over you is truly just intoxicating. He’s never had this much power over someone else before. Sure, Daki listens to him almost completely, but she’s still a brat most of the time. This was different. You were offering yourself body and soul to him. He continues to play with your pussy and then he slips one of his fingers into you. You gasp at the sensation.

“Oh…”

He smirks down at you. You are a virgin. He then has a change of heart, realizing he’s going to need to make sure you’re properly prepared for him. He lays down on his stomach between your thighs, kissing your folds as his finger goes in and out of your tight little hole.

“Relax okay?” His voice is softer than before. His eyes snap up to watch you.

Slowly, you become more relaxed to his touches. His tongue is warm on your clit and folds. The coil in your stomach tightens unbearably until it just snaps. You cry out his name, making him grunt as you come undone just for him. It was an addictive feeling for Gyutaro. He hated to admit it, but he had no experience with this sort of thing either. He just knew about it from the women who work with his sister.

Gyutaro pulls away, watching you squirm and shake from the aftershocks of what was probably your first orgasm. Then he pulls down his own pants, revealing a thick cock. It’s red at the tip and leaking a pearlescent fluid. Your mouth waters when you see it. He smirks at you once more, before he concentrates on guiding the tip to your hole.

You gasp once more as he begins to fill you. Gyutaro leans in close, kissing your neck and then he whispers in your ear. You knew what you were getting yourself into but this was more intense than you could have ever imagined.

“You know what it means to be a demon’s bride, don’t you?” His voice is hoarse and husky. “You know what this means…don’t you?”

You wrack your brain for the right things to say, but his cock brushes up against a spot deep inside of you and suddenly the words die right in your throat. You cling to him as he quickened his pace, slamming into you harder and deeper than before. He deems you ready to be pounded now. His words float in your brain and you want to answer him, but all that comes out are sweet moans and whimpers for the demon rearranging your guts right now.

“It means,” his voice is mocking. “It means I get to breed you! You’re my little bride! I get to fucking breed you!”

You close your eyes as you fall off the edge once more. You want to push him away and get him off of you, but the pleasure is too good. You knew that you would have to have offspring with him, but it was beginning to seem a little grim. The one thing that changes your mind is when he slows down and kisses you deeply.

His hands feel so good on your face as he cradles it. The kiss is slow, and so is his pace now. It’s a longing feeling. It’s something loving and sweet. Maybe this demon wasn’t going to just use you as his own personal breeding cow. You look into his eyes and you see something there.

It’s maybe love. Maybe it’s something like caring. But you know it’s not malice.

“I get to…have a family with you.” He whispers before burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You wrap yourself around him, holding onto him as he begins to fuck you deeper. The soft moans and grunts that fall from his lips are something you know you’d love to hear over and over again. His hips stutter and he’s clinging to you like you are his lifeline.

“I’m cumming,” he groans.

Ropes of hot cum begin to fill you, making you feel so warm once again. You rub his back and coax him to continue, which makes Gyutaro’s heart soar. How could you be so perfect? As he comes down, he slumps onto your breasts. You play with his hair, and it makes him feel so genuinely loved.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice comes out cracked and small.

“Of course. I’ve waited my whole life to meet you. Now we are bonded.”

He looks into your eyes. There’s really no regret anywhere there. You wanted this, you asked for it. You traveled who knows how long to get here to be with him, and you let him deflower you. Tears pool at the edges of his eyes and he tries to blink them away, but he’s unsuccessful. You pull him for another kiss, wiping his tears away.

“I’m very grateful you picked me to be your bride and not your sacrifice.” You confess between soft kisses.

Gyutaro looks at you in surprise. Perhaps he was thinking with his hatred at first, but now that he looks at you post-coitus, there’s almost a glow to you. You look like an angel. He caresses your cheeks and flashes you a genuine smile.

“I’m glad too. You are mine…and I am yours.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

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@melisuh123, @isabelzoldyck, @aomi04,

@typicalemo, @felixmr, @entirelysein-e,

@animediplomat, , @emmaiscool22, @mx-saph,

@thissaintjessi,  @kiiwiipie, @aervera

@pixelcafe-network

[jungwnies]

roommate from hell - oscar piastri (4/5)

୨ৎ : pairing : oscar piastri x gn!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : forced into an accidental roommate situation, oscar and you struggle with clashing habits, sarcastic banter, and unexpected tension…until frustration turns into something much deeper.

୨ৎ : genre : romantic comedy & light angst (barely...) ୨ৎ : tws : forced proximity, mild conflict, emotional tension, and mutual pining. ୨ৎ : wc : 1242

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

You paced around your room, phone pressed to your ear as your friend tried very hard not to laugh at your situation.

"So let me get this straight," they said, their tone already way too smug for your liking. "You overheard Oscar telling Lando that he doesn’t know if something is happening between you two, and now you’re spiraling?"

"I'm not spiraling," you said, stopping mid-step. "I just—Why did I even care what he said? I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. We’re just… tolerating each other at this point."

Your friend hummed in a way that made it very clear they did not believe you. "Uh-huh. And tell me, when he said he doesn’t know if he feels something, what did you want him to say?"

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out.

That stupid sinking feeling was still sitting in your stomach, the same one that had hit you the moment Oscar didn’t say he felt something. Because, for some reason, you had wanted him to.

You groaned. "I hate this."

"You hate realizing you have a thing for your roommate?"

"He's not—" You paused. "Oh, my God. I don’t have a thing for him."

Your friend snorted. "Right. You just spent the last fifteen minutes freaking out over nothing."

You flopped onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. "I’m not freaking out. I just… Maybe I got used to him being around."

"Uh-huh."

"And maybe it’s kinda nice that we get along now."

"Mhmm."

"And maybe—maybe—it was kinda shitty to hear him sound so unsure about me when I was kinda sure about him."

There was a pause.

Then, finally, your friend said, "Babe, you’re so screwed."

You groaned, rolling onto your stomach. "I know."

You did your best to shake off the whole feelings crisis after that, but something about it still lingered in the background. You weren’t weird around Oscar, but you definitely weren’t normal either.

And it didn’t help that he was completely unbothered. He went about life as usual—making coffee for two without a word, leaving his gym bag in the hallway, making sarcastic remarks at you over dinner. You had convinced yourself that nothing had changed, even though it absolutely had.

The only real difference was that now, you were hyperaware of him.

The way he smelled when he came home after a workout. The way he concentrated when playing some mindless game on his phone. The way he leaned against the counter when talking, all relaxed and casual.

It was fine. It was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Almost a month had passed since the roommate disaster began, and suddenly, Greg was back in your lives.

It started with an envelope on the counter, casually placed there like it wasn’t about to cause problems.

You stared at it, then at Oscar. "What’s this?"

He didn’t even look up from his phone. "Greg dropped it off while you were out."

You hesitated before picking it up and reading the note attached.

Greg had finally gotten your security deposits back.

Which meant you were no longer stuck in this apartment together.

Which meant if you wanted, you could leave.

Oscar looked up when you went quiet, glancing at the note in your hands. "Oh."

You blinked at him. "Yeah."

Neither of you said anything for a second.

Then, finally, you cleared your throat. "So, I guess this means we don’t have to keep sharing the place if we don’t want to."

Oscar nodded slowly. "Yeah."

Another pause.

Neither of you moved.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other. "Do you… want to move out?"

Oscar’s gaze flickered to yours for just a second before he shrugged. "I don’t know. Do you?"

You didn’t answer right away.

You should have said yes. You should have said you were looking forward to getting your own space again, to not having to deal with the thermostat war or the way he left his shoes directly in front of your door.

But for some reason, you hesitated.

For some reason, you weren’t entirely sure.

"Guess we’ll figure it out," you said finally, setting the envelope back down on the counter.

"Yeah," Oscar said, his voice unreadable. "Guess we will."

The weirdness settled in after that.

Not bad weird. Just… weird.

You noticed how neither of you acknowledged the envelope again after that conversation. It sat on the counter for two days, untouched, like a silent reminder that things had to change but neither of you wanted to be the first to say it.

You still moved around each other in the apartment like normal, still bickered over stupid things, still stole his hoodies, still watched bad reality shows on the couch.

But it felt… different.

Like there was something else hanging in the air between you.

And Oscar noticed.

At first, he didn’t say anything, but you caught him watching you a little longer when you were talking, tilting his head slightly like he was trying to figure something out.

Then, one night, after dinner, he finally said something.

"You’ve been weird lately," he said, watching you over the rim of his water glass.

You nearly choked on your drink. "Excuse me?"

He set his glass down. "You heard me."

You frowned. "I have not been weird."

"You have," he countered, completely unfazed. "You’ve been acting… different. Quieter. Less annoying."

Your face deadpanned. "Less annoying?"

"Yeah." His lips twitched, like he was enjoying this. "Almost like you’ve been thinking too much. And not about how to sabotage my thermostat settings this time."

You scoffed, trying to act casual. "Maybe I just ran out of energy to deal with your deeply flawed way of living."

Oscar leaned back against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe."

There was a pause.

Then he said, "Or maybe it’s about the deposit letter."

You immediately busied yourself with wiping an already clean spot on the counter. "Why would it be about that?"

Oscar didn’t answer right away. When you glanced up at him, he was watching you carefully.

"You tell me," he said simply.

You felt something in your stomach twist.

For a second, you thought about just admitting it. About saying I don’t know why I haven’t packed my bags yet. I don’t know why I don’t want to.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you forced a smirk, grabbed your cup, and turned toward your room.

"Well," you said over your shoulder, "if you think I’m being weird, you should’ve said something sooner."

Before he could respond, you disappeared into your room, closing the door behind you with a soft click.

You exhaled, leaning against it for a second.

What the hell were you doing?

It was just a lease. Just an apartment. Just a temporary situation that had somehow turned into something too comfortable.

You were supposed to leave.

You were supposed to want to leave.

But now, with the deposit in hand and the option finally there, the idea of not seeing Oscar every day, of not sharing space with him, of not arguing over the smallest things just for the fun of it…

It didn’t feel as easy as you thought it would.

And judging by the way Oscar had been watching you, you weren’t the only one feeling it.

You climbed into bed, forcing yourself to ignore the feeling.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, you’d bring it up.

Maybe.

Or maybe you’d just wait for Oscar to do it first.

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[saphronethaleph]

First Day On The Job

The door opened, and every member of the Executive Separatist Council tried to stand behind the others. Nute Gunray lost, and shot a vicious look at his fellow councillors before bowing slightly.

“Welcome, Lord Vader,” he said. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Good,” Vader replied, stepping inside, and waved his hand to seal the door. “Okay, so… first day on the job, how am I doing?”

“…at what?” Nute asked.

“Being a Sith,” Vader answered. “Like I say, I’m new to it, and you’ve met, uh… I think three other Sith? That I can think of. Darth Maul, Darth Tyrannus and Darth Sidious. So… you know, how am I doing?”

Nute considered his options as to how to answer that.

And keep his head.

“...Darth Tyrannus was usually quite good at running the Confederacy of Independent Systems,” he said, carefully. “Darth Maul mostly caused us a lot of problems. Darth Sidious… has always been good to deal with.”

“Huh, really?” Vader asked. “I’m surprised you think that after he got you arrested.”

Nute blinked.

“He did what?”

“Yeah, turns out he was Palpatine,” Vader explained. “I’m still sort of processing it myself, it has been a hectic day since the fight with Tyrannus.”

“Um,” Rune Hako said, involuntarily.

“Dooku died at least four days ago,” Wat Tambor noted. “It has been hectic for us as well, but I am quite sure of that.”

“Really?” Vader asked, frowning. “I don’t remember going to sleep in that period, but I guess I’ll take your word for it.”

“Sidious was Palpatine?” Nute asked, somewhat in shock. “That – that – all Sith are duplicitous, double-dealing kriffers!”

The shout echoed in the room, then died away, and Nute swallowed.

“I guess,” Vader said, thoughtfully. “You know, he did send me to kill you, so that does track.”

He scratched behind his ear with the hilt of his lightsaber. “And I guess he told me to kill Dooku, you know, Tyrannus, so that checks out too… but… actually, he even hinted it to me with that story about his old master. I think it was his old master. It was definitely about a Sith… and he did betray, like, the whole Republic and the Jedi Order and stuff…”

Nute didn’t say anything, because he felt rather like he was on top of a volcano that might be about to erupt.

On top of, well, the actual volcano he was already on top of, that was.

“...so,” Vader said, slowly, clearly thinking as he spoke. “If the way a Sith works is by betraying people, especially other Sith, because – yeah, I guess that’s a thing that my new boss keeps doing… how do you guys feel about working for me, instead?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Nute Gunray declared.

“Your insight is marvellous, Head of State,” Wat Tambor declared.

“Sorry, is this actually happening or-” Shu Mai began, then Wat elbowed her so hard she fell over.

“...is she all right?” Vader asked.

“She is fine,” Wat said. “What would you like us to do, Head of State?”

“Well, uh,” Vader began, clearly engaged in deep thought. “So… the war was kind of dragging on for ages, but all the Jedi are dead now and I’m pretty sure that the Jedi were a lot of how the Republic was fighting the war. You guys do still have massive droid armies, right?”

“Smaller than they were,” Nute admitted. “We were slowly losing the war. But, as you say, the Jedi are all dead.”

“Then I’ve got a great idea,” Vader said. “Because, uh, I suck at politics but I’m pretty good at fighting wars, so… what about if we make Senator Amidala the Head of State? Then she can make the government be whatever she wants it to be, and I can be the Supreme Martial Commander of the Separatist Droid Armies, which is more my sort of thing. I’m good with droids!”

Nute definitely did not want to give his first visceral reaction to that idea.

“Are you sure she’s qualified?” San Hill asked.

“Of course!” Vader replied. “She’s – oh, hey, I just realized I can actually say it now. She’s my wife.”

The Executive Separatist Council exchanged looks.

The looks mostly involved the tradeoffs between accepting Padme Amidala as their Head of State, and the complaints department of the Supreme Martial Commander of the Separatist Droid Armies.

This might be a new Supreme Martial Commander, who found it much easier to breathe than the old one, but his complaints department was still a lightsaber.

“Excellent plan, Supreme Martial Commander,” Nute said. “Are there any other changes you wish to make?”

“Yeah, I’m putting R2 in charge of an army,” Vader shrugged. “I’m pretty sure that whatever happens, he’s going to have a lot of fun, and I haven’t done something nice for him in a while…”

[bcksbarnes]

time's never been on our side - chapter three

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: you and bucky happen to meet by chance one night, and it feels like there is a spark between the two of you - but he has to leave. was this destiny? or cruel fate?

word count: 5K

read the: previous chapter

there was no doubt in your mind that seeing bucky that afternoon was not a coincidence. you normally didn’t believe in fate but he could have been anywhere in the world at that moment and yet he wasn’t, he was looking for you and he found you; it just so happened to be in the middle of the street on the same block where the bar you two met was on. 

definitely not a coincidence. it had to mean something.

of course you were a mix of excited and angered when you realized it was him, though you needed to play it cool when he said he wanted to see you again. all that was running through your brain at that moment was the vindication you were going to receive from playing hard to get; it was the least he could endure after not texting you for a month. 

you had just seen him an hour prior, finally making your way back into your apartment after running the errand you had originally set out to do when you had left that afternoon. your keys had barely hit the counter before you felt your phone buzz in your pocket.

INCOMING CALL ... BUCKY (BAR)

his name pops up on your phone screen and a smirk plasters itself on your features. it might be a little cruel to let it go to voicemail, but you decide you were going to make him sweat it out a bit. placing your phone on the kitchen counter next to your keys, you make your way over to the fridge to grab some leftovers from the night before, placing them on a plate and into the microwave.

the buzzing of the phone dies down after a while, a notification now on the screen that you had one missed call. sure, you could have called him back once you were done having your fun, but he needed to earn this now.

the brief interaction you had earlier in the day is all you can think about when you move to sit at the kitchen table with your reheated leftovers. had there really been any other time you could think of that someone had pulled you in so quickly? it’s not like the two of you were overtly flirty or looking for something more that night - it was only a casual, friendly conversation. but, something inside your gut told you that the loneliness you felt most nights now, was no stranger to bucky either, and maybe that is why you two felt so drawn to each other. there was no better cure for loneliness than a friendly smile. though in bucky’s case, it was more like a flicker of amusement that never lasted more than a few seconds.

it felt like he had some sort of eye on you because the second you finished eating, fork moving to rest on the plate, your phone lights up again signaling his call.

INCOMING CALL ... BUCKY (BAR)

you decide that your fun was over and after two long rings, you finally end his misery and pick up the phone.

“hello?”

“hey,” bucky’s voice is soft, velvety almost, through the receiver as if he just breathed out the word, you can’t see it but he’s clenching his phone tightly. “it’s me.”

“hey.” you find yourself whispering as you lean back in your chair.

“screening my calls?” for someone with such a monotone and unemotional cadence when he spoke the teasing in his voice is unmistakable.

“oh you know,” you say, the inflection in your voice drawing out your words a bit. “just evening the playing field a bit.” 

a hearty, but quick, laugh is heard from the other side of the phone line and you can feel your lips twitch into a smile. he’s trying hard not to match with his own smile on his end, running his hand down his face as he tries his best to think carefully of what he wants to say. when the two of you had seen each other earlier in the day, you had told him to call and ask you again, so he was just going for it.

“i meant what i said before.”

“you’re going to have to be a little more specific, bucky.”

a chuckle passes through his lips and it shoots right through you, a shiver running its course up your spine. you were quickly reminded of why you felt that pull towards him that night at the bar. the two of you had laughed for what seemed like hours, quickly going from complete strangers to acquaintances who seemed to have stepped into a rhythm. there was a chance that you weren’t going to feel like that again after not seeing him, but hearing his chuckle and feeling the shiver run down your spine only confirmed what you already knew, which was that absolutely nothing had changed in those four weeks.

“i’d like to see you again.” he reiterates exactly what he told you before when the two of you had bumped into each other.

was it that easy for him to waltz back into your life and pretend like no time had passed? or were you being too hard on him? he owed you nothing and he was here now. that’s all that mattered, right?

you stand from your seat at the table and walk towards the window that faces the street, the city below you bustling. the sound of cars honking and police sirens are muffled by the glass, but you can clearly see the neon signs of the shops below now that the sun was starting to set, turning the sky a pinkish purple. this is what you loved about the city, every building, every apartment, they all had their own lives, their own stories. bucky just happened to belong to yours.

“did i lose you?” bucky asks quietly when you don’t respond right away.

“no, i’m still here.” your voice is grounded, though your stomach is churning at the thought of seeing him again. anxious butterflies fill your insides as you contemplate exactly what you want to say. you’re about to open your mouth to speak when you feel your cat, alpine, digging her claws into your shin causing you to curse. you didn’t even hear her come up to you.

“ow! al, stop it.” you say to her, using your hand to shoo her from your leg.

“al?” bucky asks, and you can hear there’s a hint of curiosity in his tone.

you place the phone between your shoulder and ear to hold it as you kneel down to assess your scratches.

“alpine.” you clarify, your fingers running over the luckily not bleeding scratch. “my cat. who just decided that i didn’t feed her quick enough and wanted to remind me.”

he hums softly into the phone, he feels slightly relieved that it was only just a cat.

“are you going to make me ask again?” he continues, trying to get the conversation back on track. he suddenly feels antsy about all of this, an itching sensation of wanting to see you again. of course it’s selfish, he’s the reason that the two of you didn’t communicate in the first place but he wants to move past it and while he still has the time to see you, he wants to make the most of it.

bucky runs his fingers through his long brown locks, they’re a little on the wavy side today from travelling and sleeping on the plane. once he stepped out of the airport that morning he didn’t care about anything, but was trying to figure out how to find you. it’s still a mystery to him how he did end up running into you. from what he could recall from your conversation, you lived close to the bar, but close enough that you’d passed at that exact time? on this exact day? it all seemed too well planned, like something right out of a novel. he wasn’t a religious person, but he swears some higher power had something to do with it. 

there was no point in questioning it now.

“you didn’t really ask.” you pick up the phone from your shoulder, holding it in your hand as you stand up again. “you kind of just made the same declarative statement twice.” you say, a smirk forming on your features as you correct him.

he pinches the bridge of his nose as he sits down at the edge of his hotel bed, hearing it make a soft creak under his weight. a breathy laugh leaves his lips as he holds the phone close to his ear, your words ringing through his head. you’re not wrong, and he hates that. he says your name softly, his lips curling into a smile as he gears up to continue talking.

“would you like to go out with me sometime?” bucky asks.

a smile breaks out on your features as you take a step away from the window, starting to pace in your living room. it was something you did when you were nervous or excited, feeling like you needed to get the jitters out as soon as possible.

“i don’t know. i’ll have to check my calendar.”

bucky groans and you can hear the thud through the speaker as his back hits his bed. he’s staring up at the ceiling. you’re torturing him now and he understands it’s totally justified, but as he looks up at the off-white paint above him, all he wants to do is beg you; beg you to let him see you again, beg you to let him make the most of his time off, and bucky barnes was not a begging man.

“when?” you ask, finally relieving him of this torment.

“are you free tomorrow?” 

realistically, he wanted to see you again that night but the exhaustion of the day was seeping into his bones and he realized he probably needed some sleep - actual, restful sleep, if that was even possible for him anymore. bucky was prone to nightmares, there was a lot you didn’t know about him and right now he wanted to keep it that way. he hoped that the adrenaline from seeing you, the time change from budapest and having been on a long flight that morning would knock him out; even if it was only like 6pm.

“you’re lucky,” you tease. “i am available tomorrow.”

“good.” he grins. he tries his best to suppress a yawn as the room darkens, the sun finally setting for the day. “i’ll text you in the morning and we can figure out what we want to do.” bucky takes a moment before he quickly adds. “i’ll actually text you.” he beats you to the punch, knowing that you were probably just going to riff on him about that.

“sounds good.” you let a beat pass, neither of you saying anything else. “night, bucky.”

“night.”

the line drops and the two of you are left to your own devices, the remainder of your nights looking completely different. you spend the night taking care of alpine, watching a rerun of one of your favorite movies and taking a scalding hot shower. bucky spends his night out cold on his hotel bed, not even bothering to get out of his clothes from the day or under the covers. one thing is the same though, the two of you are riddled with anxiety about seeing the other.

bucky wasn’t sure exactly what the pull towards you was. he hadn’t dated since the 40s, before the accident and before his time with hydra. is that what this was though? was this a date? he spent his entire next morning thinking about it. did you also think this was a date? or was this a friendly get together? it made him sick to his stomach to even think about.

he was a quiet man, but never really nervous about anything, it never served him in his job to be nervous. to be fair, he never had the time to sit down and digest his feelings either. he was always so on the go between plane rides, mission briefs, securing locations, checking in with steve, add some food here and there and maybe night of sleep (maybe) and that was his life. feelings, and the time to think through them, were never at the forefront of his mind or his priority list. 

don’t overthink it, he says to himself as he sits in a coffee shop around the corner from the hotel, his fingers hovering over his phone screen as he thinks of something to text you. 

hey there.

that sounds so fucking stupid. he fervently erases the message

wanted to check in …

wanted to check in? what is this? a business meeting? strike two.

morning.

that sounded good, appropriate and not over the top; bucky would settle for it. he sends the message and waits, his eyes locked with the phone screen. 

it was still early in the morning and the coffee shop was just starting to see its first wave of customers, besides bucky who had gotten there right when they opened. he wasn’t someone who slept in. he had come to the same shop when he was here last, it was down the street from his hotel and offered a simple black coffee at a reasonable price. 

the shop was small, not bigger than the bar he had met you in, but had a lot of heart and character. giant windows illuminated the place with natural lighting that ran throughout. the coffee bar was long and filled with sounds of the baristas calling out orders and scrambling for ingredients. there were about 4 wooden tables that filled the place, bucky liked to get the one in the corner that faced the door - he never kept his back to the door. 

he also liked that they had small tvs that played reruns of some classic movies: casablanca, and then there were none, and his personal favorite, random harvest. a story of a man who leaves to fight in a war and comes back with no memories of his prior life.

he wishes he was kidding. 

though, when he saw it in theaters all those years ago he didn’t think it would have applied to his life. he only went because there was a cute girl who wanted to go and see it and he was trying his best to live his life before the war got worse, trying to forget all the impending doom, though he never realized how bad it actually was going to get.

the sound of his phone buzzing snaps him back into reality and he looks down to see your name on the screen. 

morning :)

you had texted back to him; it wasn’t like you to be up so early on a day that didn’t involve going to work, but here you were with bucky on your brain and butterflies in your stomach. was this a date? did he think it was a date? those were the questions that you had asked yourself over and over again the night before. you decided it was best to just go into whatever this was thinking that it was just two people trying to get to know each other so that you didn’t explode with nerves.

you and bucky text for a while, going back and forth about your mornings. apparently you both were enjoying a cup of coffee, bucky in a coffee shop a few blocks down, and you standing in your kitchen wearing your favorite robe. you imagine him sitting there by himself, just like you did when you met him at the bar. his sharp jawline, broad shoulders, and his demeanor which was not entirely friendly from just looking at him, but there was something about him that made you talk to him that night. you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

your phone buzzes on the kitchen counter and effectively snaps you out of your thoughts for a moment. 

i can pick you up at 7. does that work?

sounds good. you text back quickly, your fingers hovering for a moment before you respond again. what’s the plan?

it’s a surprise. bucky responds. call it my apology for “ghosting” you.

you find it odd that he writes ghosting in quotations but you quickly gloss over it in favor of sending him your address so that he could pick you up later.

here was where the real fun began: stressing until 7pm. 

you had no idea what you were going to wear and bucky, not helpful at all, refused to tell you where you were even going, so this was a complete shot in the dark. bucky, on the other hand, had it relatively easy. he packed light. a pair of jeans, and a black long sleeve shirt. all done.

it was a few minutes before 7 when you heard the buzzer in your intercom go off.

bzz bzz bzz

“i’m coming, i’m coming.” you say to no one in particular as you make your way over. you push the button to talk down to him. “hey, i’ll be down in a minute.”

you take one last look at yourself in the mirror, making sure your hair is fixed and your outfit looks good. you had decided on your usual pair of jeans and a shirt that always seemed to make you feel the most confident. a winning duo.

locking up behind you, and yelling a small ‘love you’ to alpine as you walk out, you find yourself hustling down the stairs of your walkup building quickly, pushing open the door and into the cool night.

bucky stands leaning against your building, anxiously awaiting for you to join him, so when he finally sees the door open and you step out he feels a wave of relief rush over him. he thinks back to his mission and those long nights wondering what you were up to and now here you were, hanging out with him, your night would be spent by his side.

“hey.” he says, getting your attention, his eyes raking over your appearance. “you look nice.” 

you smile softly as you reach his side, taking in his own figure which was very minimalist and to the point tonight; just like bucky. 

“thanks, so do you.”

if only you could hear the way his heart beat sped up. 

it only takes the two of you a few minutes to get to the closest subway station, making your way uptown to a spot that bucky swears that you’d enjoy. it’s not lost on either of you how close the two of you stand on the train car. your hand was holding one of the poles while he leaned against the set of doors, both of you talking and catching up like old friends. if this was a movie, it’d be the snippets of b-rolls they filmed to get the story moving along. for you and bucky, these were memories you could both fall asleep thinking about.

“here we are.” he finally says a little while later when you pull up to an inconspicuous building. actually, inconspicuous was the wrong word, run down was more appropriate. it looked like this place hadn’t been fixed up in years, the brown bricks of the building made it feel like it was from a different time, and the busted up windows on the floors above seriously didn’t give it a welcoming vibe.

where the hell was he bringing you?

“uh …” you start to say but he’s already walking towards the front door, opening it.

there’s a bit of hesitation from you for a moment, every sign in your head is telling you that going into a dilapidated building with a man you barely knew was the biggest red flag known in existence, but you find yourself taking a step forward anyway. great.

“come on.” he eggs you on, noticing your hesitation, his gaze on you softening a bit.

you take a deep breath, mumbling to yourself something about if this is the end then hopefully it was worth it (you could be a bit dramatic at times), and make your way into the building.

the two of you are immediately greeted with what seems to be a coat closet, a small empty-ish room that feels strangely disorientating for such a large building. in the room there’s a light bulb suspended by a string and a chair with a jacket thrown over it in one of the corners, absolutely empty. but, on the wall adjacent to where you and bucky are standing hung a world map that covered most of the wall. it wasn’t like the vibrant ones that you had seen during your years at school, ones that hung in a classroom, this one was colorful but faded, like it had been around for decades, maybe centuries.

“do you know where we are?” bucky’s voice makes you jump, you were so lost in trying to figure out what was going on that you forgot he was behind you for a moment.

“honestly? it looks like a place you would take someone to kill them.” 

bucky lets out a breath of air that resembles a laugh as he takes a step towards you, both of your shoulders brushing together for a moment as he settles next to you, his eyes fixated on the wall in front of you.

“i meant on the map.”

“oh.” you say, clearing your throat as you take a few steps forward towards the map, your arms crossed over your chest as you try to examine it. 

the single lightbulb in the room does nothing to help you see as you try to focus on what’s in front of you. and even with how dim it was the map was so old that new york, as you know it, didn’t exist yet, so you narrowed your eyes trying to figure out your best guess.

“probably …” your finger circles around where you think you are before it settles on a point, pressing it up against paper. “here.”

“hm…” bucky hums, taking a step behind you. the heat of his body is radiating off him and you can feel it on the back of your arm. his chest is a mere few inches from your back. he feels his heart beating rapidly in his chest and he’s not entirely sure what’s come over him. why did he suddenly approach you so closely? why did his hand move up to where yours is? why did he grab your wrist? a shiver runs down your spine and bucky can feel his own body on fire at the touch, but neither of you move away.

time seems to slow for a moment, bucky’s grounded in the feeling of his skin against yours. he’s standing so close to you that you can feel his breath right against your neck, the tension between you electrifying and palpable even if only for a moment. you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand, the only thing making your hand not shake is the firm grasp of his wrist.

“actually,” his voice is low in your ear as he slowly moves your hand. “i think we're right … here.”

the second your finger hits the map again, now in the spot where he had directed you to, you could hear a small buzzing noise through the wall, almost as if it was a doorbell. you turn your head to the side to look at bucky but before your gazes can catch you feel the wall move under your touch.

“watch.” bucky says. the hand that grabbed your wrist pulling you back against his chest. even through his shirt you can feel his muscles, they were hard and unforgiving, but not uncomfortable. you willed your head to stop thinking about it immediately.

there’s a clicking sound and you watch as the map that you were once staring at was moving away from you, the wall was a decoy door opening towards you and bucky.

“what the -...?” 

the warm light filters into the room, but the sound of the music is what hits you first, behind the dingey closet that you had thought you walked into was a bustling bar filled with tables of people sipping cocktails, enjoying nice dinners and very romantic first dates. it was stained in dark wood and red plush couches, the wall behind the bar was mirrored with gold accents. in the corner of the room was a four piece jazz band, softly playing their instruments that perfectly fit the ambiance. 

bucky had brought you to a speakeasy, or well, one of those trendy bars masking to be a speakeasy. you chuckle to yourself as you look over at him, your gazes finally meeting. well, he sure did know how to surprise you.

“come on,” he says softly, his eyes flickering over your face. “i owe you a drink.”

the two of you find your way to the bar, and it feels very reminiscent of the night you met. 

“what’s good here?” you ask, nudging him with your elbow playfully.

some time passes between when you order your drinks and when you and bucky are a little bit buzzed. the lights in the room seem to have dimmed a bit more, the jazz music seems to slow down, and you and bucky are facing each other, your knees touching as the two of you talk about everything and anything. 

he’s purposely vague about his past, trying to skirt around the things that could pose too many questions, it’s too early for that, too early to get into the details. his metal hand grasps his whiskey glass and he swirls it around a bit while he speaks, his voice low.

“i was surprised to see you yesterday. i didn’t think i’d get so lucky.”

“then you can imagine how i must have been feeling.” you say to him before taking a sip of your drink. “where did you end up? you said you were traveling, right?”

bucky didn’t want to have to think about his mission, or the fact that every day that passes is one day closer to when this little break he was able to get was going to be over, but he didn’t want to be rude either.

“budapest.”

“budapest? i thought you said you were a soldier.” 

“i said i was a soldier of sorts.” he clarifies. “i used to be active in the military, now i work in a more … private sector.”

you can’t help but snort at that, shaking your head a bit.

“what? like an avenger?”

bucky chuckles along with you to not give any inclination away, though his palm sweats a bit and he tries rubbing it off on his jeans discreetly.

“yeah, like an avenger.” his heart feels like it’s beating out of his chest but he does his best to ignore it as he takes a sip of his whiskey. “you know so much about me, i don’t think i’ve gotten the pleasure to hear about you.”

the redness on your cheeks, which have been permanently there since the two of you walked into the bar, deepens a bit. 

“what’s there to say?” you ask. “i work, i live with my cat.” 

your life was definitely not as exciting as bucky’s, and it reminds you of the feeling of loneliness you had been feeling so often lately. you shake your head, trying to brush it off.

“your life has to be more exciting than that.” he says.

“i’m sad to report it is not.” you laugh, shrugging your shoulders. “i think you and i have opposite problems. you can’t seem to stay in one place and i can’t seem to leave my house.”

neither of you know it, but the words hit you both in the gut at the same time. you wanted to be in the presence of company, to do things like find a speakeasy jazz bar that you could show someone, or be on a plane to budapest without a care in the world. bucky wanted a home life, he wanted time to slow down and to enjoy the simple things.

you both craved what the other had.

“you know, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.” he says, his gaze averting from yours for a moment. “being on the go all the time.”

“it can’t possibly be worse than being holed up in an office or an apartment all day.”

“i’m sure it’s probably not.” he agrees with you, though he knows if you knew the specific circumstances around his job you might feel different. “but, just trust me on this.”

his eyes shift back over to you, locking on your face almost immediately. it feels like he’s memorizing your features, his thoughts quiet for a moment while he just takes you in. is this what he had been missing? what an idiot.

he can hear his mind overworking already, thoughts of how bad this was. that there was a reason he didn’t get involved with the same person more than once. bucky’s life was too involved and his past was way too complicated for someone else to be intertwined. it’s what he was truly most scared of; someone else getting hurt, someone else having to peel back the layers and expose the man underneath. 

“you’re something else, you know that?” you say to him finally, breaking the silence and snapping him back into reality. the bartender takes your empty glasses and puts down the check in between the both of you.

“how so?” bucky asks, his hand already moving to grab it before you can think of paying for the drinks.

“i don’t know.” it’s an honest answer, maybe not the one he was looking for, but honest. “there’s just … something i can’t quite put my finger on.”

“i hope it’s at least something good.” he smirks, handing the bartender his credit card. he never even looks at the total, never takes his eyes off of you.

“i guess we’ll just have to find out together, won’t we?”

that scared bucky right to his core, but oh boy was he ready to do whatever you wanted.