#wow i have spiraled quickly

[autism-corner]

btw

[lepidopterium]

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[vunblr]

Fangs and Spells

Pairing: Worgen!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Unprotected sex. Dirty talk. Soft-dom!Bucky. Possessive!Bucky.

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Word Count: About 12k.

Notes: Ok, this one is... heated, I'm sorry beforehand (not).

Worgen=Werewolf. I’ve been playing World of Warcraft for 15 years, and even though life keeps me away, I’m always eager to return. That said, you don’t need to have played WoW to enjoy this story (though if you have, feel free to comment!).

The golden expanse of Westfall stretched endlessly beneath a bruised sky, and the faint scent of rain hung in the air. Rolling grain fields, left untended for far too long, waved like restless ghosts in the wind. To the south of Moonbrook, jagged cliffs met the turbulent sea, its waves crashing against the rocks with a rhythmic, almost hypnotic fury.

It wasn’t an inviting place, not anymore. The days of bountiful harvests and tight-knit farming communities were long gone, stolen by bandits, gnolls, and worse. The remaining folk clung stubbornly to their land, driven by defiance and desperation. And if you asked them, the worgen prowling over from Duskwood to raid the struggling riverside farms were on top of the offender's list.

Near the cliff's edge, a small clearing hosted a half-pitched tent flapping uselessly in the rising wind. A warrior with a scowl etched deep into his face knelt beside it, hammering a stake into the rocky ground with more force than was strictly necessary. Standing a few feet away, a mage held the sagging canvas taut, glaring daggers at him.

"You had one job, Buck," she bit out, exasperated as the wind tugged at her robes.

“The idiot deserved it, and you know it,” he muttered, not bothering to look up.

She let out a humorless laugh, sharp enough to cut through the whistling wind. “Oh, I know. But that doesn’t mean you had to snap in the middle of the inn. For Light’s sake, Bucky, all you had to do was keep your temper in check. We were finally about to get a decent night’s sleep. But no, you had to let your claws show.”

His lip curled, and hint of a snarl escaped his throat before he caught himself. “The bastard invited you to ‘polish his greatsword’ while groping himself under the table. What was I supposed to do?”

“Nothing! Nothing would’ve been perfect. I could’ve frozen his excuse of a dick and left him weeping into his ale. Then we could’ve stayed, and maybe even conned him into buying an overpriced healing potion for his bruised ego since there isn’t a decent merchant in this God-forgotten place. But no, you just had to make it personal.”

Bucky let out a huff, standing to stretch his shoulders. The motion pulled his vest taut, and her eyes flicked down for the briefest of moments before she caught herself and snapped her gaze back to the tent. He mumbled under his breath, “He had it coming.”

She didn’t let him off the hook. “Please. You just took the opportunity to vent because Steve sent us to kill nagas on the beach. And you hate the coast because when you shift, the sand gets into your fur and other places you don’t-”

“Okay, okay,” he interrupted, waving her off with a sharp motion and an uncharacteristic hint of color in his cheeks. “Maybe that had something to do with it. But still, the bastard deserved it.”

She smirked, pulling the canvas tighter over the flimsy frame of the tent. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, big guy.”

He huffed again, crossing his arms, fixing his eyes on the distant horizon.

“Just... remember where we are,” she advised softly, "This isn’t Dalaran or some other cultivated place. These farmers deal with the Duskwood worgens six days a week lately. They don’t believe -or care- that there’s a way for your kind to regain their humanity."

He stiffened slightly at her words. She regretted saying them the moment they left her mouth, but he didn’t snap back. Instead, he shifted his weight, avoiding her gaze entirely.

"We got lucky you only half-shifted, and the owner just asked us to leave instead of raising some kind of alarm."

“Don’t fool yourself,” he muttered. “He didn’t call on us because he knows we’re here to deal with the nagas.”

“Maybe,” she allowed with a slight shrug. “But that’s not the point.”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair as the first fat drops of rain began to patter against the canvas.

Her voice softened slightly as she bent to secure the last corner of the tent, though her gaze stayed sharp. “Look, I appreciate what you did in some way, but you usually let me handle this kind of thing. The last couple of days, though… you’ve been broodier and grumpier than usual, and that’s saying something. This isn’t just about the beach, is it?”

He grunted, keeping his eyes on the stakes. “You’re imagining things. Maybe you’ve just forgotten my charming personality since it’s been a month since our last quest together.”

She quirked an unimpressed brow, crossing her arms as the rain dripped from the edge of her hood. “Thanks to your charming personality, almost no one in the guild wants to team up with you unless we’re raiding. And its why Steve pairs me with you, because apparently, I can ‘handle’ you.”

Bucky squinted up at her, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Yeah,” she continued, folding her arms tighter as her voice took on a teasing lilt. “So believe me when I say you’re ‘Buckier’ than usual right now.”

He straightened, looming over her slightly, and let out a quiet huff. “Think what you want,” he muttered, brushing past her to retrieve his bedroll from their supplies.

She wasn’t wrong, and he hated how much her observation rattled him. Worse, he hated how easily she could unravel the mask he wore, the one that kept everyone else at arm’s length. But he couldn’t explain why, not without revealing more than he was willing to.

He should’ve seen it coming. Every Gilnean, given their worgen blood, knew what it felt like, that slow-burning tension building incrementally until it exploded into something primal and impossible to ignore. His rut came like clockwork every year, and when it did, he disappeared from the radar, holed up in some remote spot until it passed. Sometimes alone, sometimes not.

This time, though, Steve had insisted the naga situation couldn’t wait. The bounty was too big, the stakes too high, and Bucky, hadn’t argued. He’d thought he had more time before his hormones kicked in. He’d been so wrong. And now? Sharing a flimsy tent with her and her sharp tongue? It was like throwing oil on a fire.

He glanced at her, and his gaze lingered longer than it should have. She was bent over the supplies, muttering under her breath as she organized their gear. The damp fabric of her robes clung to her frame, outlining curves he’d tried not to notice since… well, he couldn’t remember when it started.

He’d been drawn to her for longer than he cared to admit, though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had started. Maybe it was her sharp wit, the way she never backed down from him, or the way she smiled at him when he wasn’t ready for it. Maybe it was just the way she treated him, like he was more than just a worgen with a bad attitude.

Whatever it was, it didn’t help now. Not when every glance, every stray brush of her hand, set his nerves alight and his thoughts spiraling into dangerous territory.

“You’re quiet,” she said, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Nothing to say,” he muttered, unrolling his bedroll and laying it out on the ground.

“Uh-huh,” she replied with skepticism clear in her tone. She didn’t press further, though, for which he was grateful. Instead, she settled onto her own bedroll.

The rain drummed steadily against the canvas above them, a soothing rhythm that contrasted with the storm brewing inside him. He clenched his fists at his sides, willing the heat in his veins to subside.

He just had to get through this. The nagas wouldn’t take more than a day or two to deal with, and then he could disappear before she noticed anything was off.

He hoped.

------

Maybe pitching the tent near the treeline by the rift hadn’t been their most brilliant idea. Sure, on paper, it seemed logical, far enough from the coast to avoid naga and murloc patrols, gnoll bands, Defias stragglers, and those damn coyotes. But the coastline's wind and chill seeped through their tent's flimsy fabric, turning the night into a teeth-chattering endurance test.

It wasn’t a problem for him. His worgen nature granted him a resilience she could only envy, but she was clearly freezing. He could hear the faint clatter of her teeth every now and then, no matter how she tried to stifle it.

Both of them were awake, though for different reasons.

“Bucky,” she whispered, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain.

He didn’t answer, hoping she’d think he was asleep and leave him alone. She knew how hard rest was for him, how much effort it took to him to conceal just a couple of hours of sleep.

“Bucky,” she tried again, her voice sharper this time. “I know you’re awake.”

He sighed, rolling his eyes in the dark. “You can’t see a thing. How do you know?”

“Pfft. Because if you were asleep, you’d be snoring.”

“I don’t-”

“Like a cute little pig,” she added, cutting him off with an audible smirk.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek, exhaling sharply through his nose. Maybe he did. How would he know? He didn’t exactly stick around for morning conversations after his usual flings, and no one had ever mentioned it before.

“Well, what is it?” he asked gruffly.

“I’m cold,” she admitted.

Oh, he knew where this was going.

“I didn’t pack for a quest in Northrend,” she continued, her tone edged with frustration, “and I’m freezing my ass off. Do your thing.”

He stiffened, dread settling low in his stomach. “It’s not that cold,” he dismissed, turning onto his side and hoping she’d drop it.

“Don’t be an ass,” she shot back, shifting to face him. “You know it is, and we could’ve been warm and cozy in the tavern right now if not for your macho display earlier.”

His lips twitched into a snarl before he smoothed his expression. “I’m not shifting.”

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, her breath puffing out visibly in the cold air. “You’ve done it before.”

“That was different, we were really in Northrend,” he grunted.

She rolled her eyes, but her voice softened a little. “I’m freezing, Buck. I wouldn’t be asking you if I did not. Please.”

Her tone made him pause, wavering his internal resistance. He sighed heavily, dragging a hand down his face. This wasn’t fair. Her scent was already messing with his focus enough, and now she wanted to press against him for warmth?

“Fine,” he ground out.

She hummed in approval as he shifted with practiced ease. He took off his vest and his bones cracked and muscles rippled, becoming larger, thick dark fur covered his body and deathly claws grew on his hands. He didn’t dare to meet her gaze as she scooted closer, curling her smaller frame into his side.

“See? Not so bad,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest while she poked at his snout. “Warm and cozy. You’re practically a luxury fur rug.”

His lips twitched, a reluctant smile threatening to break through the scowl he’d carefully crafted. “Glad I could be of service,” he muttered dryly.

She snorted softly, the sound more endearing than he’d ever admit. “Don’t act like you’re suffering. You’re just grumpy because I called you out.”

“I’m grumpy because I’m stuck in the middle of nowhere with you,” he retorted, but the words lacked venom.

She didn’t reply immediately, and he thought she might’ve finally fallen asleep. But then, she spoke again, quieter this time.

“For what it’s worth, thanks, Buck.”

He didn’t answer, tightening his jaw as he tried not to focus on how perfectly she fit against him. Her scent -warm and familiar- filled his senses, sending a deep, instinctual thrum through his veins.

This was going to be a long night.

------

The night dragged on, and though she moved only a couple of times, it was enough to drive him mad. Normally, her restless shifting wouldn’t have been an issue. But now, with his traitorous body on high alert and her nestled against him, it was sheer torment.

At some point, she settled in just the wrong -or perhaps right- position. Her back molded to his chest, her softer form impossibly close. His body reacted before his brain could catch up, and before he knew it, his arm was slung possessively around her waist.

And she didn’t resist. If anything, she leaned into him, her unconscious search for warmth becoming his greatest torture. When her hips shifted slightly, her rear brushing against his growing arousal, Bucky clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

His instincts roared, the part of him tied to his worgen blood demanding he take what was so temptingly close. His hand twitched against her waist, his claws threatening to pierce the fabric of her robe as he fought the overwhelming urge to act. He bit down on the snarl building in his throat, forcing himself to remain still.

He closed his eyes, his breath was shallow and uneven as the storm outside raged on. This wasn’t him. No matter what his instincts tried to tell him, he wasn't an animal. She trusted him, and saw him as more than the beast he sometimes feared he was. He wouldn’t betray that, no matter how much his body protested.

When the first hints of dawn painted the horizon, he couldn’t stand it any longer. Carefully, he disentangled himself from her, doing his best not to disturb her sleep. He draped his mantle over her before slipping out of the tent into the cold rain.

-----

When she woke, the patter of rain against the canvas was the first thing she noticed. Then the weight of his cloak over her shoulders. She blinked, groggy, and glanced around the empty tent.

“Figures,” she muttered to herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

Shivering slightly, she wrapped herself tighter in the mantle. It smelled like him, a mix of forest, leather, and something she could only describe as uniquely Bucky. She smiled faintly, shaking her head, and began rummaging through their supplies. He might be gruff and impossible, but he always made sure she was taken care of, and she had to admit she liked it. It didn’t take much to guess where he’d gone, either scouting or standing under a tree somewhere, brooding and keeping watch.

Meanwhile, Bucky stood at the edge of the clearing, soaked to the bone. He barely noticed the cold, his mind was too preoccupied with wrestling his instincts back under control. His claws flexed against the damp bark of a nearby tree, and he exhaled slowly. Her scent still clung to his body, haunting and maddening. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tension to leave his body.

“She’s your teammate, not your mate,” he muttered under his breath, the words as much a reminder as a warning.

But no amount of logic could shake the truth he’d been denying for far too long. She wasn’t just a teammate, not to him. And the more time he spent near her, the harder it became to ignore the pull.

------

Four times.

Four times Bucky had to jerk off and relieve himself before he felt remotely human, or as human as someone like him could feel. By the time he returned to the tent, the rain had lessened, though his damp hair clung to his forehead and his shirtless torso glistened from the early morning mist.

Inside, she was sitting cross-legged with her bag open beside her. She barely looked up when he ducked inside, muttering a gruff, “Morning.”

Her eyes flickered to him, her lips twitching into a half-smile. “Morning. Glad you shifted back; otherwise, the wet dog smell would cling to everything.” She tossed him a magic-infused bun with a wink.

He caught it with ease, biting into it harder than necessary. The faint hum of magic in the pastry soothed his body slightly, though his mind was still frazzled.

She, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep her gaze fixed on his face. The early hour and her half-awake state didn’t help, and her eyes briefly betrayed her, wandering down the lines of his scarred torso. She caught herself quickly, clearing her throat as she focused on his stubbled jaw instead.

“Didn’t sleep last night?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

He almost choked on the bite of the bun. “Why?”

She arched a brow. “Well, the shadows under your eyes and your miserable face give off a certain vibe.”

He scowled, finishing the bun in two quick bites. “If only someone had stayed on her side of the tent instead of tossing around all night,” he muttered.

“Oh, please,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “Next time, I’ll freeze myself in place so you can have a peaceful night.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a small green vial. “Here.”

Bucky wrinkled his nose, glaring at the potion like it had personally offended him. “Those taste like shit.”

“And you look like shit, so…” she replied, thrusting the vial toward him.

With a dramatic groan, he snatched it from her hand, muttering something under his breath about bossy mages.

She smirked, leaning back on her hands as she watched him grimace through the first sip. “You’re welcome,” she said sweetly.

Bucky shot her a withering look, but there was no real heat behind it. He downed the rest of the potion in one go, resisting the urge to spit it out.

“Better?” she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

“No,” he grumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. But the faint twitch of his lips gave him away.

-----

“Tell me again why I have to carry the bag with naga thumbs strapped to my waist?” she huffed, launching a frostbolt straight into the face of an approaching murloc.

“Because I don’t want them to rot and start reeking like shit,” Bucky replied, his tone edged with impatience. He swung his sword with brutal efficiency, sending a naga’s head flying in a clean arc. “Just keep them cold and keep moving.”

She rolled her eyes, shifting the grisly sack at her hip as she prepared another spell. “Yes, master. As you wish, master,” she mocked, her voice dripping with exaggerated deference.

“Shut it,” he snapped without looking back, slicing through another naga like it was nothing.

“What’s the matter, master?” she continued, undeterred. “Does your fluffy tummy hurt? Want me to rub it?”

His grip on his sword tightened. No. He wanted her to rub something else, and that was precisely the problem.

He growled low in his throat, shaking off the thought as he tore through another wave of enemies with grim focus. Every word out of her mouth made it harder to concentrate, and the sooner they finished this quest, the better.

For his sanity.

“Focus,” he barked, sending another naga crumpling to the ground.

She smirked but didn’t push further, summoning a frost nova to freeze the remaining enemies in place. “I am focused,” she replied with a smug tone. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Bucky muttered something under his breath -probably a curse- and powered forward, determined to reach the end of this hellish mission before she drove him completely mad.

-----

"I'm not carrying the head to Stormwind. I'm letting you know right now," she called over her shoulder, crouched in front of the naga commander's treasure chest.

Bucky, still looming near the mangled remains of the commander, huffed. "I figured. It's too heavy for you anyway."

With a sharp crack of bones and the sickening squelch of shifting tendons, he reverted to his human form, standing shorter and more composed but no less intimidating. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting to the familiar but always slightly uncomfortable sensation of transformation.

"Anything useful in there?" he asked, wiping blood and ichor off his blade with a rag.

“Actually, yes,” she replied, holding up two gleaming rings. “Looks like someone left us a caster and a melee ring. Lucky day.”

She tossed the melee ring to him without warning, and he caught it effortlessly with one hand, inspecting the intricate etching along the band.

“Aww, look,” she teased, holding up the caster ring. “They match.”

Bucky squinted at her, his lips twitching as if fighting back a smirk. “Great. Now we can get married and settle down in Kharanos.”

She snorted, slipping the caster ring onto her finger. “You’d last a week before murdering the drunken neighbors.”

He chuckled under his breath, sliding the melee ring onto his own finger. “More like a day. But, we’ll have enough ale even for our grandkids”

The banter lingered between them for a comfortable moment, despite the carnage surrounding them.

“Alright,” she stood and dusted off her hands. “Treasure’s looted, commander’s dead. Let’s get back to Stormwind before this starts to smell real bad, and you get extra cranky because of the sand in your ass.” He gave her a pointed look but didn’t talk back.

“Let’s see,” she muttered, already pulling a small portable mailbox from her enchanted bag to let Steve know that they had completed the quest. She tossed it to the ground, and with a flick of her fingers, it unfolded and hummed to life.

Bucky watched her intently, still coiled with tension from the fight. Every part of him was attuned to her movements, even when he didn’t want them to be.

Her brow furrowed as she scanned the glowing letter that appeared before her. “Well, that’s just perfect,” she said, tone dripping with sarcasm.

“What now?” he growled.

She glanced at him, tossing the letter into the air where it dissolved into sparkling motes of light. “We’ve got another job. Steve wants us to go to Duskwood. The guild bank is low on silver ore, and considering it’s nearby...”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting out a low growl of irritation. “Of course he does.”

“Hey, at least Duskwood has a proper inn,” she quipped, trying to lighten the mood. “And the people there know the difference between Alliance worgen and the monsters lurking in the woods.”

Bucky wasn’t amused. He should’ve been relieved that Duskwood would be less hostile than Westfall, but all he could think about was the proximity, the enclosed spaces, and how hard it was already becoming to keep his instincts in check.

“I’ll go,” he said gruffly, his tone leaving little room for argument. “You can handle turning in the quest in Stormwind. Those fingers are going to start rotting if we don’t deliver them soon.”

She straightened, quirking an unimpressed brow. “Forgive me, illustrious master, but our guildmaster specifically requested both of us.”

“I don’t need backup for something as simple as mining,” he shot back, irritated. “I can handle a few spiders and ghouls on my own. Just go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her as she stood her ground. “What’s with you? You’ve been extra bossy today, and for the record, I don’t take orders from you.”

“It’s not an order,” he growled, though it sounded like one. “It’s common sense. I can get the ore faster on my own, and you won’t have to-”

“What? Slow you down?” she interrupted, sharper now.

“That’s not what I meant.” He objected tiredly.

“Really? Because it sure sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

He stiffened, looking away. She wasn’t entirely wrong, but he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth. How could he explain that every moment they spent together was a battle of willpower? That he could barely breathe the same air without the primal urge to claim her clawing at his insides?

“You’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “Look, I get it. You’re used to being the lone wolf -pun very much intended- but we’re a team in this one, and we’re going to Duskwood together. Got it?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, dropping his gaze to the ground. He wanted to argue, to push her away for her own good, but the look in her eyes stopped him, he know it very well. She wasn’t bending.

“Fine,” he ground out, strained. “But don’t slow me down.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they packed up their supplies and prepared for the journey, Bucky tried to focus on the task ahead, but the tension between them only grew thicker. It was going to be a long trip, and he wasn’t sure if he’d survive it with his sanity intact.

----

The woods were eerily alive tonight, the undergrowth teeming with movement that set her nerves on edge. It was impossible to traverse the area without skirmishing at nearly every turn, and the battered remnants of giant spider corpses littered the path behind them.

“Isn’t it good I came with you?” she asked, flicking a small flame spell at a particularly persistent arthropod. Its charred remains crumpled into ash as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

Bucky grunted in response, non-concomitantly, as he crouched by a silver deposit. He picked effortlessly loosening the ore, and the metal glowed faintly in the dim light filtering through the canopy.

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Did you say something?”

“Nope.” She smirked, but her amusement faded quickly as a chill ran down her spine. Her hand tightened on her staff, and she scanned the treeline, feeling the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “Uh, Buck…”

“What?” he asked, not bothering to look up. “You finally get tired of spiders?”

“Not exactly.”

Something in her voice made him pause. Straightening, he turned to follow her gaze, and his stomach dropped. Emerging from the shadows was a pack of worgens, their eyes were gleaming with a feral hunger that set his instincts ablaze.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his body shifting almost instinctively. Bones cracked, muscles bulged, and fur erupted as he transformed into his worgen form.

The pack hesitated. He was larger than any of them, and his presence was enough to make a few step back, flattening their ears in uncertainty. But they didn’t retreat. They circled, growling low in their throats, a guttural sound that echoed in the damp night air.

For a long moment, nothing happened. Both sides stood frozen, staring at each other down as if weighing the odds. Low growls and deep, guttural sounds passed between Bucky and the pack, an exchange she couldn’t interpret but that felt loaded with meaning.

She took a cautious step back, and her staff glowed faintly in her hand, though she doubted it would be much use if this went south. “Okay,” she muttered under her breath, “It’s kind of rude, you know. Everyone knows what’s happening but me.”

Bucky didn’t respond, his focus was locked on the pack. He deepened his growl, and the sound reverberated through his chest as his claws flexed at his sides. Whatever language they were speaking, it wasn’t friendly.

She tightened her grip on her staff. “If this is one of those ‘dominance’ things, can we skip to the part where they back down?”

Bucky shot her a brief glance. His glowing eyes were so intense that they sent a shiver through her body. “Stay behind me,” he growled, his voice barely human.

“Oh, believe me, I’m not going anywhere,” she replied, with both sarcasm and genuine unease.

The standoff continued, and the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating. She could feel it in the air, the raw, primal energy radiating from the pack and Bucky himself. She hated to admit it, but even now, amid danger, she couldn’t help but notice the sheer power and command he exuded.

“Any time you want to scare them off would be great,” she quipped nervously, keeping her eyes on the pack.

“I’m working on it,” he rumbled sharply.

The tension in the clearing was suffocating, the pack of worgens circled closer, their growls vibrating threatening in the air. Before she could react, Bucky’s paw encircled her wrist, and he pulled her roughly in front of him.

“W-what?” she gasped, wide-eyed as she looked up at him.

His snout was so close, and his voice was a low, urgent rumble when he asked. “You trust me?”

“Always,” she whispered.

“Alright,” he muttered. Without another word, he leaned down and licked a slow, deliberate stripe along her neck, never breaking his gaze from the pack.

“Buc-” she started, her voice faltering.

“Moan,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“What?”

“Just do it. Like you mean it,” he commanded, tightening his grip slightly on her wrist.

Heat rushed to her cheeks as she let out a soft, breathy sound, tilting her head slightly, while her voice trembled with a mix of nerves and compliance.

The pack hesitated, as they exchanged uneasy glances. Bucky growled low and deep, as his free hand moved to the nape of her neck, guiding her downward on her knees with surprising gentleness for the intensity of the moment.

She frowned. “What are you-”

“Rut season,” he growled under his breath, lips close to her ear. “They want to fuck you, and I’m showing them you’re mine.”

Her stomach dropped, and her breath caught as his words sank into her brain. “Oh my god,” she whispered, half in disbelief.

“So, unless you want some fun with those boys,” he continued, dangerously calm, “you’re going to play along.”

Before she could respond, he pushed her neck lower, bending her slightly as he positioned himself behind her. She could feel the warmth of his body, and the weight of his presence almost overwhelmed her as he pressed closer.

His hand brushed the hem of her robe, lifting it just enough to expose the curve of her thighs. Her breath hitched as she realized what he was doing. She wanted to throw him a dirty joke to decompress, protest, or say something, but the gravity of the situation kept her rooted in place.

Bucky hunched over her, his chest brushing against her back as he growled at the pack, sounding primal and territorial, and -oh light- he started to pound and grind against her. His movements were deliberate, and calculated, mimicking the act with enough realism to leave no doubt in the pack’s minds.

“They don’t see much detail from here,” he murmured, his voice low and rough as he panted near her ear. “But it would be wise to show them some… engagement. If you know what I mean.”

The low growls of the pack echoed through the clearing, but they faded into the background as she cast her scruples aside, letting out soft moans and whimpers every time his hips connected with her rear. It was humiliating, sure, but the situation demanded it. Every sound she made seemed to amplify the tension in the air.

Bucky was a storm of barely restrained chaos. Each time their bodies connected, the friction sent a jolt through his body, and it was becoming impossible to ignore the painful erection straining against his pants. He bit back a growl, trying to focus on the task at hand instead of the fact that she could feel every inch of his leaking cock pressing against her.

The pack’s growls began to falter, their aggression giving way to hesitation. But Bucky’s protective instincts burned hotter. The violent intent in their stares toward his mage had his blood boiling. He wanted to tear them, to rip them apart for daring to covet what wasn’t theirs.

And yet, another fire was burning in him, one far more dangerous.

The charade, though necessary, was pushing him to his limit. Her body pressed against his, her soft sounds filling the air, and the scent of her arousal cutting through the damp forest air, it was killing him.

Oh, he noticed.

He noticed how her movements became less stiff, how her breaths quickened with something more than nerves, and how the sounds escaping her lips grew more authentic and less forced.

And she noticed too.

The undeniable hardness grinding and slapping against her clothed pussy was impossible to ignore, and she hated the way her body reacted. Her cheeks burned with the realization of the slickness beginning to gather between her thighs. And worse, she knew he could smell it.

Bucky flexed his claws at her waist, tightening his grip momentarily as a low growl rumbled in his chest. “That’s it,” he murmured darkly but oddly reassuring. “Just a little longer. They’re starting to get the message.”

Bucky inhaled deeply, and his eyes fluttered shut momentarily as her scent overwhelmed him. When he opened them again, they were sharp, glowing faintly in the dim light of the forest. His voice was strained, low, and almost trembling with the effort it took to speak clearly.

“Listen,” he panted, each word carrying the weight of his struggle. “These bastards are going to retreat, and when they do… I need you to cast Frost Nova. On me. And run.”

“What?” she gasped, twisting slightly to look back at him. “Are you insane? I’m not doing that!”

His grip on her waist tightened, claws grazing her robes but not piercing. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to speak through the haze clouding his mind. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I don’t trust myself right now. All I can think about is ripping off that damn underwear and stop this charade.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and her cheeks heated anew.

“But Bucky-” she began, unsure.

“By the Light, woman,” he growled, cutting her off, “Can’t you, just once, do what I say without questioning me?”

The desperation in his voice was unmistakable now, and she froze, torn between the rising fear of what he might do and the unwavering trust she’d always had in him. Her lips pressed into a thin line as her mind raced.

“Alright,” she said finally, not sounding very convinced.

His response was a guttural snarl, but the tension in his body eased, just slightly. “I’ll be fine,” he bit out, though the way his claws flexed told her he was barely holding himself together.

The pack lingered, their yellowed eyes glinted with hesitation as Bucky’s sharp, murderous gaze bore into them. Every roll of his hips against her, every growl rumbling in his chest, was a clear message: she was his, and they had no claim here.

He let out a guttural snarl of finality, slowing his movements until he stopped, and she played along, meowling and whimpering in reaction to his fake release. He leaned forward, almost covering her body entirely with his, growling more menacing than ever before.

Eventually, the tension broke as the pack, deterred by his dominance, slunk back into the shadows of the woods.

After a couple of minutes that seemed like an eternity, he reluctantly moved backward. “Do it,” he commanded, edged with desperation.

For a moment, she froze. She could feel his body trembling against hers, not just from exertion but from the monumental effort it took for him to hold himself back. His claws dug slightly into her sides, not enough to hurt but enough to remind her of how close he was to losing control.

“Now,” he barked, sharp and low.

Swallowing hard, she pushed herself away from him, forcing herself not to look back. With a quick flick of her wrist, she channeled her magic, releasing a Frost Nova that erupted in a ring of ice around him. The spell worked instantly, freezing his limbs in place and rooting him to the forest floor.

Her chest ached as she heard the muffled sound of his growl, laced with frustration, and something else. She forced herself to run, her boots pounding against the uneven ground as she headed toward the road.

Behind her, the crackling sound of ice straining against immense strength echoed faintly. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

-----

Maybe telling her to run hadn’t been the most clever idea his clouded mind could come up with. Because now, all he could think about was the chase… and the prize.

Her scent clung to his fur, sweet and maddening, filling his lungs and clouding what little rationality he had left. Each breath only made it worse, feeding the primal hunger gnawing at his control. His aching cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, every pulse a painful reminder of how badly he needed her.

Something in him snapped.

The ice encasing his limbs cracked audibly before shattering altogether, shards scattering across the forest floor. With a guttural roar, Bucky surged forward, his massive form blurring as he gave in to the chase.

His mind, already teetering on the edge, gave itself over to instinct. Each pounding stride brought him closer to her, his muscles coiling and releasing with terrifying precision. He could smell her panic mixed with something else, something intoxicating. It made his mouth water, his claws flex, and his cock twitch with unrelenting need.

She ran as fast as she could, her robes fluttered as she darted between trees and over roots. But she wasn’t fast enough.

Bucky leaped, the world narrowing to a single focus: her. The thrill of the hunt consumed him, but it wasn’t just the chase, it was the promise of catching her, of claiming what every fiber of his body screamed belonged to him.

----

Her steps began to falter as she reached the road, her breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps. She bent over, hands braced on her knees, trying to recover. She wasn’t built for this kind of thing. She was a mage, for Light’s sake, spellcasting was her forte, not sprinting through a forest or other physical strain.

That’s what she had Bucky for.

Bucky, who would roll his eyes and toss her over his shoulder like a caveman whenever she whined about being too tired to walk.

Bucky, who would scout ahead for the easiest path even though he could tear through any terrain in his worgen form without a second thought.

Bucky, who hunted and butchered their meals with efficiency, ensuring they ate more than stale bread and questionable stew on their travels.

Bucky, who wanted to fuck her.

Her cheeks burned as that particular thought. Not that she hadn’t thought about it before, because she had. Maybe too often for her own good. The idea of him and his hands on her, his low, gravelly voice saying her name in that way that sent a shiver down her spine.

But not like this.

Not the furry kind of fuck.

She straightened, forcing herself to keep moving toward the town. Each step felt like it was taking her further from the chaotic heat of the encounter in the woods, but her mind couldn’t stop replaying the way he’d looked at her: possessive, dangerous, hungry.

And if she was being honest with herself, a small part of her didn’t entirely mind that look.

She almost tripped and cursed, adjusting her robes and glaring down at their impractical hem. Maybe it was time to ditch the flowing fabric and invest in some pants like a sensible person. To hell with Khadgar and his fashionable mage aesthetic. She let out a frustrated sigh, dragging a hand through her hair as she walked. All she needed was to reach the inn, find a stiff drink, and put this insanity behind her.

Oh, but she wasn’t going to make it.

The big, bad, and sexually frustrated wolf had been prowling alongside her, concealed by the thicket, his predatory instincts zeroed in on every step she took. She’d barely made it four more paces down the stone road before her vision blurred with sudden movement.

The next thing she knew, she was pinned.

Her back was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, and in front of her was Bucky. Human, barely. His chest heaved, his shirt torn and clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. He was panting, feral, utterly undone.

Her breath hitched as her eyes raked over him, and before she could stop herself, her thighs pressed together to ease the tingling ache his mere presence provoked.

“H-hey, Buck,” she croaked, her voice trembling under the weight of his stare. “I guess the nova wasn’t to your liking?”

His lips curled into something between a snarl and a smirk, and his gaze dropped to her lips before sliding back to meet her eyes. “Did you really think that would stop me?” His voice was low, rough, vibrating with barely contained hunger.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. “Well according to you, it was supposed to give me a head start.”

He huffed a breathless laugh, his hands braced on either side of her head against the tree. “I guess I subconsciously knew damn well I’d catch you. Since, you know, your stamina sucks”

Her cheeks flushed hot, and her heart hammered in her chest as she struggled to keep her composure. “Yeah, well... there was the possibility that maybe the spell cooled you off.”

“Cool off?” He leaned in, brushing his nose against her temple, dropping his voice into a growl. “You’re the one who’s been driving me insane, running around smelling like... that.”

“Like what?” she whispered, even as she already knew the answer.

“Like you want me to lose control,” he murmured, his lips just barely grazing her ear.

Her traitorous body shivered at his words.

“Would that… be that bad?” she whispered, barely able to get the words out.

His entire body went rigid, curling his hands into fists against the tree bark. A growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating between them like a warning. Or a promise.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he ground out against her skin.

She tilted her head slightly, forcing herself to meet his burning gaze. “Maybe I do.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared, and he clenched his jaw as if he were fighting an invisible battle within himself. The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and she couldn’t tell if the heat pooling in her belly was from fear, desire, or both.

“Don’t,” he rasped, strained. “Don’t tempt me like that.”

Her lips parted, letting go a soft exhale as she felt the weight of his words. Still, she couldn’t stop herself. “And if I did?”

He snarled, closing the faint distance separating them. His forehead dropped to hers, and his ragged breathing mixed with hers. “Then I’ll show you just how dangerous I can be.”

The words sent a jolt of adrenaline and something far darker coursing through her veins. She swallowed thickly, and her heart hammered against her ribs as she whispered, “Maybe I’m not afraid of danger.”

Bucky’s eyes searched hers, his pupils were blown wide, a thin ring of blue around a sea of black. His lips hovered over hers, so close she could feel the ghost of his breath.

“I don’t know if I can stop,” he admitted.

“Then don’t,” she replied steady, despite the quiver in her knees.

Bucky didn’t move for a heartbeat, his body trembled as he fought his instincts. The moment stretched, before something inside him finally snapped.

His lips crashed against hers, hard and demanding, as though trying to express everything he couldn’t say. She gasped into the kiss, her fingers instinctively tangling in the ragged fabric of his shirt and his long locks, pulling him closer despite the warning alarms blaring in her mind.

His hands moved to her waist, rough and possessive, as though afraid she might slip away. The kiss was a clash of tongues and teeth, raw and unrestrained, but it wasn’t enough, not for him.

He broke away, panting heavily, roaming his gaze over her heated face. “You don’t know what you’ve started,” he growled, low and thick with need.

Her lips tingled, swollen from the force of his kiss. Her fingers trailed up to touch them as her mind spun. “Well Buck, I’m not sure I care,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

His expression darkened, and his body pressed her back against the tree. “Say that again,” he demanded, his tone more animal than man.

She met his gaze, and her stubborn streak flared. “I said, I don’t care, Bucky.”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a snarl and a groan, and his hands moved to cup her face with surprising gentleness despite the storm raging inside him. “You’re going to drive me insane,” he murmured, brushing her lips with unexpected tenderness.

Her body ached at the contrast, of the softness of his touch against the raw hunger in his voice. She shivered again, and he didn’t miss it.

With a low growl in his throat, Bucky pressed one of his thick thighs between her legs, dragging against the sensitive spot that was already aching for attention. She gasped sharply, and her hands flew to grip his shoulders for balance, but before she could say anything, his hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back to expose the vulnerable curve of her neck.

His lips were on her a heartbeat later, hot and unrelenting as they trailed along her skin, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses and nips that made her shudder. The scrape of his teeth sent sparks down her spine, and when he growled again, the sound vibrated against her throat and she couldn’t stop the moan that spilled from her lips.

The sound seemed to set something off in him. His thigh pressed harder against her, sending jolts of pleasure as her body instinctively rolled against him. She felt the heat pooling low in her belly, and her mind was a blur of sensation and need.

“Bucky,” she breathed, with a trembling voice.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, “Say my name like that again,” he commanded, in a rough whisper that made her knees weak.

“Bucky,” she whispered.

His hands tightened on her hips, holding her firmly against him as he leaned in to capture her lips once more. It was messy, desperate, and so consuming that she felt like she was drowning in him, in his scent, in his heat, in his presence.

When he finally pulled back, it was only to grab the front of her robe and tear it apart with a single, feral motion.

“Hey!” she protested, instinctively trying to cover herself.

“You didn’t like it anyway,” he retorted, dark amusement lacing his tone as he tossed the tattered fabric aside.

Her protest died on her lips when his hand moved lower, hooking into her underwear. “And I don’t like these,” he added, low and rough as he shredded the delicate material without hesitation.

Her cheeks flushed with heat as she stood bare before him, and his predatory gaze raked over intently, his expression darkening further when he finally saw the evidence of what he’d only smelled before, the glistening slick between her thighs.

“So damn wet,” he growled. Without preamble, two fingers slipped between her folds, sliding through the slickness before finding her clit.

Her body jerked at the contact, a whine escaping her lips as his touch sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her body. He didn’t hold back, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with calculated precision, his rough fingertips adding just the right amount of friction to make her toes curl.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with sinful admiration as he watched her reactions. She was utterly pliant beneath his touch, resting her head back against the tree, lips parted while gasping softly. “So perfect like this.”

She could barely form a response as he kept up his relentless ministrations. Her hands shot out, clutching at his shoulders for balance as her legs trembled under the onslaught of sensation.

“Fuck, Bucky.” she panted, her voice shaky and desperate, as his fingers continued their slow, devastating circles over her clit and her hips moved involuntarily against his hand, seeking more of the friction he was so generously giving her.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, laced with a possessive edge. He leaned in, and his lips brushed against the shell of her ear when he finally buried his fingers inside her. “You feel how good this is? How good you’re gonna feel when I’m finally inside you?”

Her knees buckled at the promise in his voice, and his grip tightened, holding her steady as he continued his ministrations.

His lips trailed along the sensitive column of her neck, and his teeth grazed her skin before he bit down gently.

Her nails clawed at his shoulders and biceps as his fingers worked her relentlessly, curling just right to hit the spot that made her vision blur. “Fuck!” she gasped.

“Feel so good, don’t you?” he murmured against her skin, as his thumb kept circling her clit with maddening precision. “So damn wet for me, and I’ve barely started.”

Her hips moved in tandem with his hand, grinding against him as if she couldn’t get close enough. Every thrust and curl of his fingers, every swirl of his thumb sent waves of pleasure through her body and she was about to snap.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned again, and her head lolled back as he continued to mark her neck. She was completely at his mercy, and her body trembled, as the heat built low in her stomach, threatening to unravel her completely.

“Chase it,” he rasped, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her. “You’ll be so fucking beautiful when you let go.” His words were her undoing. Her body arched, and a sharp cry left her lips as she shattered, clenching around his fingers as the pleasure crashed over her like a wave.

Bucky didn’t ease up, and his fingers continued their relentless pace, driving her deeper into a haze of pleasure. She squirmed, pushing at his chest in a feeble attempt to stop him, but he didn’t budge. His other hand gripped her hip firmly, pinning her against the tree.

“Bucky,” she whined, her voice breathless and trembling, “I… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, with authority. “And you will. I’m not done with you yet.”

She gasped as he slid a third finger inside her, stretching her further. The sensation was overwhelming, but it teetered dangerously close to pure bliss. His thumb continued its torment on her clit, and her thighs shook as another wave of heat coiled low in her belly.

“That’s it,” he rumbled, his lips brushing against her ear. “I want you ready to take all of me, sweetheart. You’re mine, and I will make sure you know it.”

“Oh, cocky, aren’t we?” she tried to quip, but her voice shook as she clung to the last shred of control she had left.

His deep chuckle vibrated against her skin, “Yeah,” he retorted, his lips curling into a feral grin. “Cocky, indeed.”

Her response was lost in a breathless moan as he curved his fingers again, finding that perfect spot and sending sparks shooting through her body. She couldn’t think or do anything but cling to him as he worked her over with ruthless precision.

Bucky’s blue eyes bore into hers, feral and wild, “Come on,” he murmured, low and commanding. “Give me another one. Show me how good you can be for me.”

Her body betrayed her completely, tightening around his fingers as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge once more. His relentless dominance was intoxicating, and she hated how much she wanted to fall apart for him all over again.

“Don’t you dare stop,” she whined, “or I swear I’ll put bubblegum on your tail the first chance I get.”

Her body trembled violently as her climax tore through her, making her see stars. It was the most intense release she’d ever felt, and it left her gasping for air, every muscle in her body turning into jelly.

Bucky chuckled, clearly satisfied with the way she fell apart under his touch. Slowly, he withdrew his fingers, glistening with her slick, and without warning, brought them to her lips.

“Open,” he commanded, in a rough growl.

Her dazed eyes blinked up at him, but she obeyed, parting her lips. He pressed his fingers onto her tongue, making her taste herself. Before she could process it further, he leaned and crashed his mouth against hers.

He licked at her lips, her tongue, and his own fingers still in her mouth, mingling their breaths in a way that felt so filthy and erotic that it made her head spin.

His other hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her in place as he deepened the kiss, his feral nature showing in the raw hunger with which he devoured her.

When he finally pulled back, her lips were swollen and slick, and her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Bucky’s blue gaze glowed with pride and desire, and his mouth curled into a wicked smirk.

“You taste so damn good,” he murmured, thick with arousal. “Every part of you.”

Unable to hold back any longer, he fumbled with his belt and nearly tore his pants apart to free his throbbing, leaking cock. A guttural groan escaped from his throat as the cool air hit his heated length.

His glowing eyes locked on hers, filled with feral hunger. “And now, magic bun,” he rasped, “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk… and then some more.”

With one hand, he gripped the back of her knee, lifting her leg to spread her wide. The other wrapped firmly around the base of his shaft, guiding it between her slick folds. He groaned low and deep as the head of his cock pressed against her clit, grinding teasingly against her sensitive bundle of nerves.

She gasped, and her head fell back against the tree as the tantalizing friction sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. “Bucky…” she breathed half a plea, half a warning.

“Patience.” he growled. Slowly, torturously, he began to push forward, as the thick head of his cock stretched her inch by inch.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her breath hitched as he split her open, his size forcing her body to adjust to the overwhelming intrusion. He paused briefly, giving her time to catch up, though his trembling muscles betrayed how much restraint it was costing him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead pressing against the tree as he sank deeper. “So tight, so perfect.” He lifted her other leg from behind her knee and pushed again.

She whimpered, rolling her hips instinctively to meet him, drawing a shuddering growl from his chest. Her body stretched and molded around him, every nerve alight with pleasure and the intoxicating mix of pain and anticipation. Her breath came in short, heated bursts as her lips sought out his stubbled jaw, lingering before she nipped at his skin. It was soft but enough to provoke, enough to draw a growl from deep within his chest.

"Keep going, big guy," she whispered, her voice husky and laced with a mix of daring and need.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he rasped, “Once I start, there’s no stopping.”

Her hands slid up his chest, grazing the muscles beneath his shirt with her nails. “Good,” she breathed, “because I wasn’t planning on stopping you.”

That was all the confirmation he needed. With a guttural sound, Bucky thrust forward, stretching her inch by maddening inch. He kept his eyes locked on hers, watching the way her lips parted in a gasp, her pupils blown wide with pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his voice a broken growl as he sank deeper, claiming her completely. Her nails dug into his skin as her body arched against him, and a soft cry escaped her lips.

He rolled his hips again, slow but deliberate. “You feel that? That’s all me, and I’m not stopping until I’ve emptied my balls inside you, magic bun."

The vulgar promise sent a new wave of heat through her body. Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as her body clenched around him in response.

“You talk a big game,” she managed to tease, the faintest smirk curling her lips despite the haze of pleasure overwhelming her.

Bucky chuckled darkly, “Oh, you’ll see just how big.” he growled, snapping his hips forward sharply, drawing a gasping cry from her.

He didn’t give her a chance to recover, since his movements became relentless in a punishing rhythm that was intoxicating. Every thrust pushed her higher, her moans grew louder, unrestrained, as his words and actions blurred her ability to think of anything but him.

"That’s it," he murmured against her ear, his voice ragged. "Take me. Take every damn inch."

His pace grew rougher, more determined as if his life depended on claiming her body completely. Each thrust drove her harder against the tree, and every delicious drag of him against her sensitive walls made her body sing.

“God, you’re tight,” he groaned, his lips brushed against her ear. “Like you were made for me. Do you feel that? Feel how perfectly I fit inside you?”

“Y-yeah, I feel it,” she stammered, her voice trembling with pleasure.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you,” he continued, his voice dripping with feral hunger. “Every. Last. Drop.” He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, making her cry out in ecstasy.

Her nails scraped down his back, leaving marks that only spurred him on. “Bucky! oh, fuck… I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, gripping her hips tighter. “You’ll take it, every inch, every load, until you’re dripping with me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She could only whimper in response, her head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot that made her see stars. Her body tensed, the overwhelming pleasure building to a breaking point. “Bucky, I’m gonna- oh!”

“That’s it, cum for me,” he commanded, “Squeeze me, magic bun. Milk my fucking cock!” he growled, his voice rough and ragged as he felt her clenching around him. He could feel his balls tightening dangerously, and with a guttural roar, he drove into her one final time.

“Fuck! Just. Fuck,” he groaned, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he spilled inside her, thick, hot ropes of cum filling her up while he panted against her neck.

Her breath came in sharp, uneven gasps, and her legs shook as he held her up against the tree, keeping her pinned as he emptied himself into her.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, resting his forehead against hers, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

She gave a breathless laugh, still shaky. “There goes your endurance”

He smirked, pressing a lazy kiss to her lips. “Don’t think we’re done, though,” he murmured, sliding down his hands to cup her ass. “Not until I’m sure you’ll feel me with every step tomorrow.”

"Bucky-" she started, but he pulled out his still-hard cock and gently set her down, immediately latching his mouth onto one of her neglected breasts. His teeth grazed her sensitive skin as he sucked and nipped, leaving her gasping.

“Oh, how many times did I imagine milking these,” he murmured against her flesh, his voice thick with want.

She quirked a brow at him, managing to ask between pants and squeals when he got rough. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” he growled, squeezing both breasts with his large hands to make his point. “Every fucking time we shared a tent and you pressed them against me in your sleep. You have no idea what you did to me.”

She let out a sharp gasp, caught somewhere between indignation and arousal. “You creep! Ah!”

He chuckled, flicking his tongue over her hardened nipple. “I’m not a saint, but believe me when I tell you, another man wouldn’t have held back. They’d have taken advantage.”

Her fingers wove into his long, dark locks, an unexpectedly tender gesture despite the heated moment. She tilted his face up slightly, meeting his gaze. “I know. But you’re not just ‘another man.’ You’re my partner, and since our first quest, I’ve always known I was safe with you. Grumpiness and brooding aside... you’re the best.”

His movements stilled for a moment, then he pressed his forehead against her chest, brushing his lips in the swell of her breast as he exhaled deeply. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he admitted, raw and almost vulnerable.

She smiled, scratching lightly at his scalp. “You don’t make it easy, but you’re worth it, Barnes.”

His blue eyes flicked up to hers. “I don’t deserve you,” he muttered, still exploring her body with his hands, tracing every curve.

“Not the time for the monthly self-loathing spiral.” she chastised. Her hand slid down his chest, fingers dancing over the hard ridges of his abs before continuing lower. When her fingers encircled his shaft -or at least tried to-she began to pump him slowly.

His breath hitched, sharp, and audible, and his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. “Don’t,” he ground out, his voice rough and almost desperate.

She knit her brows, confused. “Why not?”

He kept his grip firm, clenching his jaw as he averted his gaze, with a flushed face. “Now’s not a good time,” he muttered. “Maybe... maybe when I’m not rutting.”

Her head tilted slightly, studying him. “What’s the difference?”

His grip on her wrist tightened just slightly, and his eyes flicked back to hers with a mix of restraint and frustration. “If I get too... invested,” he admitted, almost growling, “I’m going to shift.”

“Oh.” Her lips parted to say something, but she hesitated, caught between curiosity and concern.

“It’s not just about me losing control,” he added, almost hesitant. “If I shift mid-act, it’s... it’s a lot. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her gaze softened, and she cupped his face with her free hand. “Bucky, you’ve never hurt me,” she said gently. “And I don’t believe you ever would.”

He leaned into her touch for a moment, exhaling heavily.

“I won’t let you get away with what you want as always. Not with this.”

“But-”

“Shut it,” he growled, cutting her off as he turned her around and manhandled her to the ground on her hands and knees, his discarded cloak softening her landing. His voice dropped into a commanding snarl, rough and dangerous. “Now I’m going to keep getting what I want, and you will take it.” He spread her thighs open with his knee. “You’re only going to open that pretty mouth of yours to moan or cry out my name.”

“Bossy now, aren’t w-” she began, sassy, but she didn’t get the chance to finish. His hand came down on her ass with a loud, stinging smack, making her gasp.

“You just had to insist on being a brat and coming with me,” he hissed, his lips close to her ear, his voice dripping with frustration and unbridled heat. “And then I had to fake fucking you in front of a bunch of horny bastards.”

His hand kneaded the spot he had smacked, “Now, magic bun, you’re going to pay for every second of that torture.” His hands gripped her hips possessively, dragging her back against him, pressing his leaking cock into her ass.

“You think I didn’t notice?” he muttered darkly, sliding a hand down between her legs “You’ve been soaking since that little show.” He pressed his fingers against her pussy. “This? This is all mine.” He growled and pressed the thick head of his cock against her entrance, already slick from his cum and her fresh wave of arousal. Without hesitation, he thrust inside her, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful motion. She cried out, arching her back as she adjusted to the sudden, overwhelming fullness.

He groaned, “So perfect, magic bun. Taking me so well.”

Her fingers dug into the cloak beneath her, and her breathing ragged as her body tried to accommodate his size. “Fuck...” she gasped, a mix of protest and pleasure.

He leaned over her, pressing his chest against her back as his lips found her shoulder. He nipped at her skin, sharp enough to leave marks, each bite sending a jolt of electricity through her already overstimulated body.

“Bucky,” she moaned, her arms trembling as she tried to hold herself up under the force of his thrusts.

“Don’t stop saying my name,” he demanded roughly against her ear. His hips snapped forward harder, and his cock hit that perfect spot inside her with every hard thrust.

She whimpered, dropping her head forward as her body surrendered completely to him. He growled approvingly, sinking his teeth gently into her shoulder before licking the sting away.

“You’re mine,” he rumbled as he drove into her relentlessly. “Say it.”

“I- I’m yours,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper, but he heard her loud and clear.

“Yes, so damn mine,” His hand slid up her spine, possessively fisting her hair and pulling her head back. The exposed line of her throat and shoulders was too tempting to resist, and he sank his teeth into her skin again, marking her.

The wet slap of his balls against her clit grew louder, mingling with her breathless cries and his guttural groans, creating a symphony of pure, unrestrained need that echoed through the forest.

“Buck, y-you’re so deep,” she choked out, clawing her fingers at his discarded cloak for stability.

He chuckled darkly against her skin. “Deeper still, magic bun,” he rasped, his voice filled with raw determination. “I want to feel your womb kissing the head of my cock.”

He withdrew almost entirely, leaving her desperate and trembling, only to thrust back in with a force that had her crying out. His pace quickened, each stroke harder and more deliberate than the last, pushing her toward the edge of sanity.

Her walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, and he cursed under his breath, the sensation driving him wild. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his free hand gripping her hip so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises. “Made for me, made for this”

She moaned, arching her body, her knees threatening to give out under the relentless pleasure, as her body rocked with every thrust. He let go of her hair and reached down to play with her swollen clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “Take it,” he growled, dark and commanding. “You’re gonna carry me,” he murmured, thrusting harder. “Gonna fuck you so full you won’t have room for anything else. My scent, my seed, on you, in you, everywhere.”

“Oh, fuck, Bucky,” she whimpered, her thighs quivering as she clenched around him, her body responding instinctively to his filthy promises.

She meowled, and her body responded with another involuntary squeeze around his cock. He groaned, the pressure almost undoing him. “That’s it,” he hissed while his pace grew erratic. “Gonna breed you, leave you dripping for everyone to see. “You want it, don’t you?” he rasped, circling her clit faster. “Say it. Tell me you want me to fill you up.”

“I-I want it,” she gasped, the words barely leaving her lips before another sharp thrust sent her spiraling.

He groaned as her walls pulsed around him, and he buried himself to the hilt. “Fuck!,” he growled, as his cock twitched inside her. “You’re gonna take it all. Every last drop. No one else gets to have you, just me.”

The orgasm hit him like a storm, spilling thick ropes of cum into her, the heat of his load making her whimper. He thrust a few more times, grinding deep as if determined to leave no part of her untouched.

His movements slowed, then stilled, and he remained buried inside her for a moment, his chest rising and falling against her back until he finally withdrew, groaning softly at the loss of her warmth. He pulled her down gently onto his discarded cloak, spooning behind her. The feral aggression that had consumed him moments before seemed to melt away, leaving behind a calmer, more satisfied version of himself.

“You alright?” he murmured, softer now as he brushed a strand of her hair away from her face. His hands smoothed over her sides, no longer gripping bruisingly but exploring her curves with a reverence that made her sigh.

“I’m fine,” she replied, still breathless. “But you are totally carrying me tomorrow in a piggyback. I don’t feel my legs.”

His lips twitched into a small, self-satisfied smile. “That was the idea, your limbs around me, where they belong.”

She rolled her eyes and snuggled her back closer to the warmth of his broad chest. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And you didn’t escape,” he retorted, nipping playfully at her ear.

“Maybe I’m a sucker for punishment,” she quipped, tracing the lines of his forearm where it rested around her waist. “Or maybe I just enjoy being with the guy who acts like a beast but is actually pretty damn sweet when he’s not trying to prove a point.”

He huffed a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “Sweet, huh? Pretty sure I wasn’t ‘sweet’ a few minutes ago.”

“No, you were something else entirely,” she teased, turning to meet his gaze with a sly smile. “But don’t let it go to your head, big guy.”

Bucky inhaled deeply and buried his nose in the crook of her neck. His hands slid up her side to cup her breast, his rough palm was gentler now as he thumbed over her sensitive nipple. He sighed, utterly sated yet still unwilling to let her go.

“We’ll need the tent,” he murmured and the deep rumble of his voice vibrated against her skin. “We’re not making it to the inn.”

She groaned, grimacing at the thought of wrestling with the cursed contraption in her current state. “Ugh, the tent. Can’t we just sleep out here and hope nothing eats us?”

Bucky chuckled with a low and indulgent sound. As if he’d read her mind, he nipped her shoulder, eliciting a squeak from her mouth. “You’re going to lay there looking pretty, and I’m going to set it up,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

She turned her head to shoot him a skeptical look. “Oh, so you’re all chivalrous now?”

He smirked, brushing his lips against her ear as he spoke. “Don’t push your luck, I’m trying to be nice here.” he muttered, adjusting the cloak around her shoulders as if she couldn’t do it herself. “Since I plan on fucking you again -and maybe a few more times after that- I’d rather you didn’t catch a cold. Also…” His gaze lingered pointedly on her chest. “I don’t want some random traveler getting an eyeful of your bouncing tits.”

She quirked a brow. “Funny, you didn’t seem to care about modesty a few minutes ago.”

He crouched down beside her, tugging the edges of the cloak higher over her chest as he gave her an unimpressed look. “Yeah, well, that was different. I was the one enjoying the view. No one else gets to.”

Her smile widened as she brushed her hand over his stubbled jaw. “Possessive much?”

He just stared at her, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if to remind her exactly who she belonged to. When he pulled back, his lips brushed against her cheek, and he nuzzled her affectionately. “Be good for once and stay put. I’ll set up the tent.”

“Oh, I’ll stay put,” she said with a mischievous lilt, shamelessly traveling her gaze down his naked body. “Enjoying the view.”

He rolled his eyes, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him. He liked her looking at him like that, and she knew it. He made no effort to hide the way his muscles flexed as he moved, taking every chance to show off while setting up the tent.

“Really taking your time there, huh, big guy?” she teased.

“Maybe I am,” he shot back, giving her a knowing glance over his shoulder. “If you’re going to stare, I might as well make it worth your while.”

She laughed as she propped up on her elbows to get a better view. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just admiring your… big dedication to the task.”

He shook his head as he secured the last of the tent’s poles. “Come on,” he invited, holding a hand out to her. “Tent’s ready. Let’s see if its sturdy enough for my big dedication.” His smirk widened into a full-blown grin, and she couldn’t help but roll her eyes, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Always so humble, Buck.” she observed, slipping her hand into his and letting him pull her up.

“Just calling it like it is,” he shot back, pulling her closer until their bodies nearly touched. “And judging by your staring, I’d say you agree.”

She opened her mouth to quip but then paused, frowning. “Um, Buck… by any chance did you bring the sack with the silver or…?”

His confident smirk faltered as his brows knit together. “Of course I-” He stopped mid-sentence, glancing toward the forest, and his expression shifted from cocky to sheepish. “I was a little preoccupied,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Steve will love this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, stepping closer until he loomed over her. “You think I care about what Steve thinks right now?”

She arched a brow, dropping her gaze lower. “Well, considering you’re standing here without a stitch of clothing and no silver in sight… maybe not.”

His lips curled into a slow, predatory smirk as he took her hand, placing it boldly against his hard cock. “You tell me, magic bun. Does this look like it cares about Steve, silver, or his damn surprise quests?”

Her cheeks heated as her fingers instinctively curled around him. She swallowed hard. “No, it doesn’t” she managed,

He growled, leaning down to nip at her bottom lip. “Now, get in that tent before I lose what little patience I have left.”

Her lips quirked, but she wisely said nothing, turning toward the tent with a sway in her hips that she knew he wouldn’t miss. Behind her, he groaned, with both exasperation and lust.

“Keep that up, magic bun, and we won’t make it inside at all.”

Dividers by: @/strangergraphics

[leashybebes]

i was yapping at @sazzynatural about my hurdle headcanon and then my hand slipped and now here we are, i guess!

tweaked a little and posted on ao3 [here]. thanks, y'all!

"Hey, Evan?"

"Yeah?" Buck calls, from where he's checking through his cupboards, making a shopping list. Tommy doesn't respond immediately and he turns back from where he's surveying the spice rack to look at him. "What's up?"

Tommy has that fond look on his face that, as far as Buck is concerned, might as well just be what his face looks like. The way that Tommy looks at him lights him up inside. He doesn't think anyone has ever looked at him that way, the way that he catches Tommy looking, so soft and endeared, like just looking at Buck makes him happy. It's - 

"I love you."

Buck's heartbeat roars in his ears. 

"Y-you - um. What? No, wait, I mean. I heard you. Tommy, that's - "

"Evan." He still looks fond, and that should be impossible, because Buck is screwing up, he has ring-side seats to this, is actively watching himself screw up, and Tommy's still looking at him like - like that. "Stop spiraling. You don't need to say it back, I just wanted you to - "

"No, no, it's not - uh - I, uh. I said I'd meet Maddie for coffee during her shift and if I don't leave now I'm gonna be late, so I, um. C-can we talk about this later? O-over dinner, maybe?"

Tommy's shoulders slump a little at that. "Uh. Sure. If you like."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that'd be great, I'll be back, don't uh - don't go anywhere, I won't be long, I just really - really need to get that coffee with Maddie, I can't be late but uh - that's - that's great, Tommy."

He sees Tommy's eyebrows go up, sees him mouth great, and then he's out the door.

Oh, shit.

***

The drive to dispatch goes in a blur, and he must look pretty freaked out because as soon as Maddie sees him, she quickly finishes her call and drags him into the breakroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I - I thought we could get coffee," Buck says lamely, and she gives him the big sister eyebrows. "Really," Buck says a bit frantically. "Can - can we have coffee?"

Maddie rolls her eyes, but she pours them both a coffee and hands him his, putting the table between them and leaning against it.

"I have fifteen minutes. Talk."

"Tommy said he loves me," Buck blurts.

"Buck, wow. That's amazing." Maddie's eyes widen at him over her coffee cup. "Wait. Not amazing?"

"I didn't - uh. I didn't say it back?" Buck says, and feels his heart sink. 

"Wait, you didn't?" Maddie tilts her head, looks honestly baffled. Which - fair. Buck is a little obsessed. "Do you - not?"

Of course I do, Buck thinks. How could I not?

"I - I'm being intentional," Buck says, and it sounds hollow already. "I don't wanna rush it and I had like - a timeline."

"Did - did you tell him about the timeline?"

"N-not in so many words," Buck admits.

"Evan! Please tell me you didn't just run out on the poor guy," Maddie pleads, over the sound of the breakroom door opening again. Buck doesn't even care about a potential audience, he's so suddenly miserable at the way he left Tommy at the loft.

"I - I didn't run," he says although - it was probably a close thing. "I…I told him I had to get coffee with you and we'd talk about it later," he admits, his voice getting smaller with every word.

Maddie's face does the thing - the scrunched up pout like she's holding back on telling him that he's a damn moron. Buck scrubs his hands over his face.

"Is this Buck's hot pilot?" Josh asks from where he's pouring coffee.

Buck hears Maddie's mm-hm. 

"He said he loves me," he says, still hiding behind his hands.

"Con…gratulations?" Josh says dubiously. "Or, how awful for you? I'm really not clear on the desired response here."

"He thinks it's too soon," Maddie says. "He had a timeline. Which he did not share."

"We were taking it slow!" 

"I hate to break it to you, but the way that man looks at you is not slow," Josh says.

"He's not wrong," Maddie says, and Buck hangs his head. Because they're right. They're both right.

"Look, you know me. I stumble into things, I end up too serious too fast and it blows up in my face. I - I really didn't want it to blow up in my face. And then he just goes and - and looks at me like that, and says that, and I don't - guys, I think I really screwed up."

Maddie gives him a sympathetic look. 

Josh gives him a deeply, deeply unsympathetic one. "Oh, I have totally dated a Tommy."

"I'm sorry, what?" Buck glares at Josh who looks supremely unimpressed.

"Calm down, ankles," he tuts, and Buck is absolutely going to kill Eddie. Or Chim. He's going to kill someone. How does everyone know about that? "I said I dated a Tommy, your man's virtue is safe."

"What does that mean, you dated a Tommy?"

"Look, not everyone knows when they're five like me, and not everyone goes from adorably clueless to out and proud as fast as you. Sometimes, and I know this might be a little revolutionary for you, Buck, but sometimes the queer experience? Fucking miserable for a really long time. So sometimes you just want to grab happiness where you can find it, as soon as you find it."

Buck thinks about the things he's learned about Tommy over the months they've been seeing each other, each one a little treasure to be hoarded, a part of the puzzle that makes up the man that he already can't imagine life without - the asshole father, the dead mom, the army, the closet, the loneliness - and he wants to slap himself. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, his heart sinking further at the message Tommy's sent.

Do you want me to cancel the reservation?

Buck turns his phone to show Maddie and Josh the message.

"What reservation?" Maddie asks

"Dinner," Buck says miserably. "Date night."

"Okay," Josh says. "Some of us are supposed to be working and don't have time for your little baby bi crisis. Evan Buckley, are you actually going to fumble that man? Before you answer, be aware that two thirds of the population of WeHo will get a hard-on the moment he's back on the market even if they won't know why."

"He's not going back on the market," Buck snaps. "I just - I just need to talk to him."

"There we go," Josh says, rolling his eyes and disappearing with his mug of coffee, and an idiot called back over his shoulder.

Maddie's a little kinder, hugging him quickly. "Tell him how you feel, Buck. Talk it out."

***

By the time Buck gets back to the loft, he has another message from Tommy.

Hey, I headed back to my place. Let me know if you want to talk, or if you want dinner. I'm sorry if that was too much. It doesn't have to change anything.

"Goddamnit," Buck grumbles, throwing the Jeep back into gear. The drive to Tommy's has never felt so long, and he sits outside for long enough that the neighbor across the street is just openly staring through the blinds. It's enough to propel him out of the car and up to the door.

It takes Tommy a minute to answer when Buck knocks and he looks - surprised to see him, honestly. Buck feels a horrible twist of guilt.

"Can I come in?"

"Evan. Of course. You want a coffee or something?"

"No," Buck says, trailing Tommy into the kitchen. "I - I did have one with Maddie, I'm kinda…vibrating out of my skin enough as it is."

"I'm sorry. That's not what I was aiming for."

"Y-you don't need to be - Tommy, I - "

"Hey, look, it's fine," Tommy says, and it looks like he really believes it. Like it really is completely fine that he told Buck he loves him and Buck's response was to buffer internally for a minute and then run out of his own damn apartment like his ass was on fire. Tommy taps his knuckles on the table between them in what Buck recognises as a nervous gesture. "I know that I'm not - I'm not the forever guy, and that's okay. I didn't say it to make you say it back. I said it because it's true and I wanted you to know."

"What are you talking about?"

"That I - " Tommy honestly looks a little puzzled. "What I said, this morning. It wasn't - there weren't any strings attached."

"You're not the forever guy? What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that - that I know I'm not exactly a…long-term prospect, and that's okay."

Okay? It's so far from okay. It's the worst thing Buck has ever heard.

"How are you not a long-term prospect? That's - that's the dumbest thing I ever heard, take that back."

"Evan. I used the L word and you couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's okay. You don't have to try to make me feel better. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Buck snaps, rounding the table to get closer to Tommy, catching hold of his wrist. "I'm not - look, I had a timeline, which, Maddie pointed out I didn't actually tell you about that, so that's my bad. But it was a timeline for me, to stop me going too fast and falling too hard and - and going full Buck. I didn't expect that you would - "

"Stomp all over this mysterious timeline?" Tommy asks, his eyebrows going up.

"And I'm now realizing how stupid that was. Did - did you mean it?"

"Evan. Of course I meant it." He glances down at where Buck is still squeezing his wrist, not quite holding his hand "I - honestly, I didn't think it would come as a surprise, I'm not exactly - "

"I love you."

Tommy blinks. "Evan - "

"Please believe me. Tommy. God, I screwed this up so bad, but - I do. I do love you. You are the forever guy. You're my forever guy. I promise. I just - I was just scared. But about me, not about you. Never about you. Tommy, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I - "

"Evan. Say it again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Buck lets himself sway forward, lets his forehead meet Tommy's shoulder. "Not the forever guy. You're a goddamn idiot is what you are."

"I'm your idiot," Tommy promises, and Buck laughs shakily.

They love each other. They love each other.

[puckinghischier]

I can just imagine doing a “soft launch” with Nico and him not understanding the concept of it and posting just a picture that’s very much you and the teams gc blowing up giving him shit

when you opened the burst of notifications suddenly flooding your phone, you’re confused. sure, you had just posted a soft launch of nico on your account, but you didn’t expect this kind of reaction to it, most of your close friends and family already knowing about him.

when you open the instagram app, though, you see none other than a post from your oh so sweet boyfriend, your smiling face next to his looking right back at you. his comments are full of fans talking back and forth about who you are and where you came from. you noticed the sudden influx of followers to your account, quickly switching your profile to private before any more make their way through.

the two of you had discussed doing a soft launch last night, agreeing that now is the time to do it, seeing as you’re getting pretty serious. you thought nico understood the concept, but bless his heart, he didn’t.

he had posted one of the most recent pictures the two of you had taken together. you were standing nestled close to him in front of the large tree at rockefeller center just across the bridge, big, loving smiles on both of your faces. the icing on the cake, though? he tagged you in the picture.

you noticed a few of his teammates in the comments, cheering the new relationship on and congratulating him for making it social media official.

ones such as timo, jack, and jesper, however, were poking fun at him. the three of them were the first of nico’s teammates you ever met, so you feel a bit closer to them than some of the others. you had actually crashed their lunch yesterday, joining the four hockey players for a quick cafe meal in-between practices.

they were included in your conversation, asking them their opinion and if it was too soon. when they all gave you their approval you continued the conversation with nico later that night, setting the plan into motion.

jack’s comment read “wow cap, this launch was about as soft as a rock,” while timo’s was along the lines of “soft on the ice, but not on the launches.”

jesper’s was a bit more to the point, simply stating “you’re not supposed to tag her, dumbass.”

before you could read any further comments, your screen was taken over by an incoming call from none other than your new instagram official boyfriend.

“sweetheart, i fucked up. i’m so sorry. i should have asked what you meant last night, but i thought we were just posting about each other. i had no clue it was supposed to be secretive and clever. you should have just told me what to post, now-“

“nico, neeks, calm down. take a breath, it’s fine,” you laugh at his rambles, interrupting his spiral that started the second you answered the phone, not even getting to say hello.

“you’re…not mad?” he stops mid-sentence, confused at your lack of fury at his mistake.

“no, i’m not mad. even if it did cause my phone to nearly crash because of how many notifications were coming through, it was cute,” you smile through your sentence, even though he can’t see you.

“oh…well….i guess i didn’t need to leave practice early then, huh?” he tells you, right as you hear the door open to your apartment, nico standing there with the key you gave him in hand.

you hang up your phone, standing from your couch and walking over towards him.

“why in the world would you leave practice early for something as silly as this?” you stand with your hands on your hips, looking at him disapprovingly.

he doesn’t meet your eye, seeming bashful all of a sudden. “well…if you were going to yell at me i would rather have had you do it in person, that way i could kiss you and tell you i loved you in person instead of over the phone,” he tells you honestly, looking like a little boy getting scolded by his parents.

rolling your eyes at him, you walk over and run your hands through his hair, letting your hands stop at the nape of his neck, arms resting on his shoulders as he looks down at you.

“well i’m not mad, but you can still kiss me and tell me you love me, since the entire state of new jersey—well, the united states and most of switzerland, probably—knows now,” you poke fun at him, scratching the bottom of his scalp while his arms come to circle around your waist.

smirking down at you, he meets your lips in a sweet kiss, barely able to savor it before his phone starts buzzing like crazy in his pocket, distracting both of you.

“now listen, i know i don’t have that many followers to freak out about my new hockey star boyfriend, so who’s blowing your phone up?” you pull back from the kiss, looking down at where his phone rests in the pocket of his sweats.

he pulls the device out, bringing it over so both of you can look at it. you see the messages continue to come through, the same name being seen on all of them: “the handsome devils”.

“that’s your groupchat name? the handsome devils? how original” you laugh at the team’s lack of creativity.

“it was jack’s idea,” nico shrugs, the explanation making perfect sense.

you can hardly read the messages because they’re coming in so fast, but you catch a few.

“nico, do we need to host an instagram class in lieu of practice one day?” dougie offers his admin skills to his captain.

“cap, even i know that soft launch means partial, not a full face shot,” followed by “i didn’t mean that the way that sounded, jack, don’t laugh,” from curtis, and then a “HAHAHA” from jack.

“does this mean i have to start calling her mom?” from luke was the last one you saw before looking up at nico, his furrowed brow showing his annoyance with his teammates.

you reach up to smooth the wrinkle between his full brows, leading him to look up at you instead of his phone.

“nico, they’re just poking fun. they all mean well,” you assure him, taking the still buzzing phone from his hands.

he pouts at you anyways, huffing out a sigh. “i just…felt really bad about all of this and they were all laughing at me when i was rushing out of the locker room, worried you were about to break up with me.”

you can’t help but let out your own laugh, finding it comical he actually thinks you would break up with him. his pout deepens at your laugh, crossing his arms and tucking into himself, yet again looking like a child.

“nico, i’m sorry, i’m not laughing at you, it’s just funny you think i’d break up with you over being too excited to tell people we’re dating and posting one of my favorite pictures of us on your very public instagram,” you assure him, untucking his arms from themselves and placing them back around your waist.

he lets himself relax a bit, getting comfortable in his hold on you again. “it is a really good picture of us, isn’t it?” he asks, looking down at you.

you nod your head yes, humming out a “mhmmm” before standing on your tip toes and pressing a kiss to his nose.

“now, why don’t we go make ourselves comfortable on the couch, order food, and think of snarky comebacks to send to your teammates for making fun of you?” you suggest, causing his face to light up.

“i knew i loved you for a reason,” he says enthusiastically, taking your arm and dragging you over towards the couch.

[seokminfilm]

positions | lee seokmin

🪄 pairing, lee seokmin x reader

🪄 warnings, newlyweds au, baby fever, sweet seokmin, pet names (seokmin uses baby, reader uses sweetheart), mentions of children, mentions of baby fever, reader is called a pretty mother, lots of kissing and loving on each other, seokmin soft hours

🪄 summary, seokmin had to have this conversation with you at one point, but he didn't think it would be this soon and this desperate, either.

🪄 author's note, this was suggested by a lyrnon (lyr + anon = lyrnon btw)! i saw this and knew i had to do it because my life would not be complete without this fic in it....anyways, enjoy!! (dad seokmin ftw)

🪄 now playing, positions, ariana grande

🪄 word count, 1004 (omg jeonghan's birthday i'm going insane...) | for @kstrucknet

"They kept telling us congratulations over and over and over again," Seokmin laughs lightly, and you nod, blushing as you settle into bed. No matter how long you and Seokmin are married, you'll never get tired of this giddy feeling you get in your stomach when you get ready to sleep.

"They were all so cute though. I love your nieces and nephews." You sigh, and Seokmin nods as he lays on your chest. You curl his soft, brown strands between your fingers, humming a tune as Seokmin strips himself of his black frames, revealing his pretty eyes and even prettier beauty mark.

Your husband, Seokmin (wow, that was still really weird to even think), had finally taken you to meet his extended side of the family today.

The joy-filled wedding had taken a toll on you, and you had been stuck at home for the past week, sick with a surprise cold (to which Seokmin quickly stepped into his husbandly duties and took care of you to the best of his ability).

Even now, he was still so tender with you, kissing you with little force and always asking to hold your hand wherever and whenever he wanted to. His touch felt different─it was sure and stable, and you loved the feeling of his fingers encasing yours at the most intimate times you think you've ever had with him.

"Seokmin?" You ask softly, scared he's fallen asleep. He's been quiet for the past five minutes, still, warm body against yours.

"I'm still awake, baby, I'm sorry. I'm just thinking." Seokmin's voice is soft, hushed in the sweetest way you think you've ever heard it be. Smiling, you press a kiss to Seokmin's scalp, breathing in his lavender-scented shampoo.

"Thinking?" You repeat, and Seokmin nods, slowly sitting up and taking his head off of your chest as he turns to look at you.

"Thinking about what, sweetheart?" You ask, and Seokmin studies you for a second, his dark brown eyes raking over your figure dwarfed in his windbreaker. It sends him spiraling, feeling like a teenager in high school with the way he's staring at you.

"I'm thinking about you," Seokmin answers, and you smile, grabbing a decorative pillow as you place it in your lap. "What about me?" Teasing, you tilt your head to the side a bit, reveling in the way Seokmin smiles at you.

"It may be too soon though." Seokmin frowns just slightly, pretty face falling just a bit as you shake your head, nervousness building in your chest nevertheless as you shake your head.

"Don't say that, Min. You haven't even told me what it is yet." You smile simply, patting the top of Seokmin's hand as you twist the ring on his finger─your vow and promise to him.

"What if you're not saying that when I actually tell you what I'm thinking about?" Seokmin pouts, lips jutted out as you lean in, giving them a quick peck as you smile.

"No way," You whisper, fingertips grazing Seokmin's jawline as you sigh dreamily, obviously in love with him. "Tell me, Seokmin. Please?"

The question at the end of your confirmation breaks Seokmin even more, and he can't stop himself, finally opening his mouth as he glances away for a split second, as if to try to recollect himself. After a few seconds of silence, Seokmin looks back to you, trying not to shudder when you lean your head on his shoulder, warm breath tickling his neck.

"You'd be such a pretty mother, baby. I just...I feel it in my soul." Seokmin's statement makes your face heat up faster than you thought it would, and you inhale sharply, holding your breath.

"Me? A pretty mother?" You ask in disbelief, and Seokmin smiles, nodding as he shyly looks at the ground.

"When you were taking care of my sister's newborn daughter, I─" Seokmin sighs, eyes locked on yours as he chews at your lip. "I thought of you with my baby in your arms."

You fall silent, unable to really form proper words. You had never seen this side of Seokmin before─it was new, seeing him so flustered and so hushed about one of his many thoughts. He always was one to voice his ideas and voice them loudly, but this...this was different from anything he's ever told you.

"It's really weird, I know. I just..." Seokmin trails off, face heating up as he swallows. "I just really want us to start a family. It would be nice."

Eyes falling to the sheets, your cheeks start to hurt from how wide you're smiling, and you look back up at Seokmin, nearly flinging yourself on him as you hug him tightly. He's obviously surprised, gasp escaping him as you kiss his neck, and he giggles just seconds later, obviously enamored with your reaction.

"How would this be too soon, Seokkie?" You ask, and Seokmin shakes his head, looking down bashfully as he huffs.

"I don't know, I just...I didn't think you would want to take it that far just yet." Seokmin's voice is soft and innocent, and it makes you smile, taking his chin in your hand as you tilt his face up to look at it. His big brown eyes are sparkling with the light of the bedroom, and you can see the sparkles in it as you shake your head.

"I'm ready for anything you are. I love you so much I'd do anything you ask me without thought." You say softly, leaning in as your lips softly graze Seokmin's. His eyes flutter shut, and he sighs under you, hands placed in your lap as he brushes his hands over your thighs.

"Anything?" He asks quietly, voice a low rumble as his thick eyebrows raise into his bangs. You nod, smiling as you kiss the tip of his pointed nose.

"Absolutely anything, Seokmin."

The smile that comes on your husband's face suddenly makes your will to live for him a little bit longer (as if it wasn't already infinitely long).

[arcanarix]

made suguru a dull boy…

synopsis. with more and more responsibilities stacked like a tower of pancakes on geto’s plate, you and the twins feel like suguru’s forgotten how to have real fun! so you take him on a trip back down memory lane… (hopefully in a more positive light)

tw. implied kidnapping, yandere geto, the twins are the only thing keeping you sane, established dynamic captor/captive, reader is a non sorcerer, cult leader!geto, piv sex, oral (f! and m! receiving), reader has kind of mellowed out since you’ve been captive for more than a year or two by now. geto is actually kind of nicer to you.

WC: 3.1K

“Do you really think this is going to work?” you ask Nanako in a hushed tone, glancing at the stacks of metal bins containing a lot of Geto’s collectibles that he’d forgotten since he took on this new role. They’re all just sitting here collecting dust rather than being displayed and admired by a once bright eyed, unassuming, impressionistic fanboy. It’s hard to think about the fact that at one point, Geto was just a normal teenager who grew into whatever he was now.

Does he remember anything about having a bright childhood or has it been all doom and gloom from the start for someone like him? You can’t help but spiral into the possibilities. Does he remember playing ball and wondering how high up he can throw it and catch it? Does he remember his first balloon animal at someone’s birthday party? Does he remember the first video game he’s ever fallen in love with, or his first board or card game? 

Does he even have fond memories to look back on? Why does he work so hard to erase what he was before?

You still don’t have an appropriate label for someone like him, someone so otherworldly. ‘Monster’ is too on the nose and doesn’t capture all of those nuances about the guy. 

But does he even deserve to be deemed complex? Or should you just call him some guy? Some guy who has plucked you off the streets because you had some curse he was after. Some guy who has decided to keep you around because he has some kind of lust or obsession with you. 

That’s definitely a discussion for another time… 

“It might help him remember he’s a person too,” Nanako suggests with a shrug. “You know, smoke and mirrors aside, he’s just a person. Even if that ego of his doesn’t like to admit it…” 

“So what’s in all of these?” you prod as you pluck one of the tins from the top of one stack, waving off the dust that gathers around your face and blowing more of it off of the cool surface. You squint your eyes. So much of the paint has chipped off but you recognize the font of a popular franchise. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding,” you nearly scoff but try to refrain unless you want your head chopped clean off. “Are these fucking Yugioh cards?” 

The shock in your tone even catches Mimiko and Nanako off guard for a few moments, but they bounce back quickly. Nanako glances at Mimiko, and the older twin doesn’t know how to approach the topic at first but seems to come up with an explanation out of thin air like she always does.

“That Satoru Gojo guy Mr. Geto keeps talking about liked Digimon,” Mimiko explains, as her eyes scan the rows upon rows of countless trinkets and gizmos Geto claims he’d much rather leave behind, forgotten. “And Geto always rambled on about how much cooler Yugioh was from all those stories he’d tell us. They were best friends or something, but they got into a huge fight and that’s why they still aren’t talking now.” 

“You know they can still be friends if they just talked things out,” Nanako remarks, curiosity in her tone. “I mean, clearly Gojo still cares enough about Mr. Geto if he hasn’t killed him yet, right?” 

Mimiko nods. “Yeah.”

You ignore their conversation because you don’t really care to know much about that stuff, since it’s out of your realm of understanding anyway. Sorcerer politics that shouldn’t concern a non sorcerer monkey like you.

“Wow, I can’t relate,” you admit, finding yourself chuckling in spite of yourself. It’s not from amusement, still just disbelief that Geto was a person before all of this. Before what he is now. You almost are curious to know a little more, just to see if it’s worth peeling back all of those layers. “I was always a Pokemon girl.” 

“So is Mr. Geto!” Nanako chirps, beaming to where you can see her eyes twinkle in spite of the low ambient lightning of the attic. “Maybe you can like him more if you bond with him like this.” 

“It’s a thoughtful idea, but he’d probably say anything made by monkeys are only for monkeys.” With you being his sole exception or something of the kind, just a pretty appendage for a ruthless cult leader and scam artist. Something to tell his new world order that beneath all of that male bravado is a blatant hypocrite. “Isn’t that why he’s forgone his old personality?” 

“We just want Mr. Geto to have room to be a person, not just a dad or a leader, so can you please do this for us?” Nanako asks with a little pout. You fret as you assess the situation, glancing at the box in your hands, and then at the numerous stacks before you. 

How can you even say no to that face? Even if she’s completely complacent in all of this, you can’t completely fault these two girls for clinging onto the man who saved them from certain death for dear life. 

You have learned more about Geto than you have ever cared to in these few moments alone.

“Fine,” you decide, with a sigh in defeat as you toss some of your hair away from your face. You have taken countless losses here, so what’s another? “I’ll try to get your dad to lighten up, if it’ll make you both happy.”

“Thank you!” Nanako and Mimiko reply in unison with wide grins, before exchanging a look with each other. 

The stroll back to the second floor of the temple is a silent one as your mind is still muddled with thoughts about Geto’s not terribly distant past. From what you remember the twins telling you, Geto found them when he was no older than 16 or 17 and then he takes over this organization without so much as breaking a sweat. Given his status as some big shot sorcerer who doesn’t agree with the conservative ways of their society, you suppose that’s not entirely farfetched but you also aren’t aware of just what any of this means for someone like him or them. 

It’s just very hard to believe that beyond all of this, is a boy whose youth had been stripped from him. And misery loves company, so that’s why he decides to take you in maybe. You still don’t know his reason behind why he chose you or why he kept you—all you can do is infer. And perhaps every single possibility you have ever come up with is entirely off the mark but you don’t really care either way.

It doesn’t matter anymore. This is your life and you have to accept it. No one is going to save you, and no one can save you from forces they cannot see or fight.

You slip into the bedroom, eyes flitting to Geto who is seated like an emperor on your shared bed, one leg extended and one tucked in to support a book he’s reading in his lap. He’s let his hair fall down his back and frame the sharp features of his face. He doesn’t seem too reactive as he glances up from the page he’s about to flip through and actually smiles these days upon seeing your face. He has become soft with you, as far as softness goes for someone like him. He sets his book aside and strides toward you, looming over you like the giant he is compared to you and really compared to most people.

“Where have you been off to for so long?” Geto greets you with a light kiss on the crown of your head. He gestures to the box in your hand, and as a chain reaction you grip tighter onto it. “And what’s this?” 

Time to play up that act. Like you’re completely complacent, completely submissive to him and that you’re totally alright with anything that happens from here.

Because you have no power anymore, right? You may as well wear your mask well. And you seem to, these days. You seem to please Geto more and more with each passing month you’ve been here. At some point, you don’t even bother keeping track of how long it’s been since you’ve been in his care. Has it been a decade at this point or just a few months? It’s all a blur now.

None of it matters, anyway.

“Forgive me, the twins dragged me through one of their little adventures,” you reply with a small smile as you hand him the metal tin box. “This belonged to you. We—I thought you might want it.” 

Furrowing his brows at that, he slides off the lid, violet eyes widening upon the stacks of collectible cards. You catch something amiss in his stare. Something flashing in his eyes. 

Nostalgia? 

“I thought I burned these,” he mutters, more to himself, picking up one of the cards. You do recognize that one from your childhood. The Dark Magician. And is that another smile on his face? Another real, genuine smile? Are you dreaming? You must be! “Did they take you to the attic?” 

You feel your heart drop. Like old times. You nod. “They wanted to play hide and seek, but we found these instead.” 

He inspects the card with a quizzical expression. 

“Is there a purpose for this?” he prods with a hum.

“W-we just thought it’d be nice if you relaxed every once in a while,” you squeak, averting your gaze from his eyes to your feet. His expression contorts into something close to shock or impressed. 

But he just laughs.

“How do you mean?” he replies. He seems amused rather than angry or defensive and you aren’t sure if you’re terrified or not. “I’m plenty relaxed.” 

“We mean you just don’t have room to be you. You’re not just a leader,” you tell him. Rather bold words out of you that under past circumstances, you might have been punished for challenging him at all. But that’s not what you’re doing here. “You are your own person beyond those titles. We just—well I—!” 

“—shush, my dear. It’s endearing, truly,” he replies, placing the card back into the box and setting it onto the foot of the bed. “But I haven’t forgotten anything about who I once was. It’s my primary driving force in doing what I do.” 

“Then why throw yourself into all of these things? It just seems like… you’re fighting for your life all the time, and it doesn’t always have to be like that,” Who are we really talking about here? Him or you? “You need time to be with family too. You need to be, well, yourself too and—!” 

—you’re interrupted with his lips plunging onto yours. But it isn’t hungry or demanding. Rather longing, gentle, coaxing. He pulls away for a moment so you can catch your breath as his intense violet gaze meets yours. 

In moments like these he’s like a majestic dragon. Mighty. Domineering. Ethereal. 

Hypnotic. Entrancing. 

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Even in spite of everything, in spite of all of these horrors he’s put you through that feel so small and trivial in these fleeting moments where you can almost believe he feels something for you as beyond a pretty pet. 

A slender finger traces the edge of your cheek and you find yourself leaning into his touch. 

“Since when has this concerned you so much?” he purrs, his hands snaking down to the dip of your waist, securing you in place. Your eyes glimmer, with an edge of fear but more wonder of what’s spiraling in a mind like his. Dark, ruthless. Calculating. 

“Because…” you swallow thickly, the palms of your hands resting on his pecs, drawing your lips closer to his as your eyes begin to flutter shut. “Because you deserve to breathe, Geto. To have fun. To live a life, an actual life. Like anyone else.” 

Even if you are excluded from this equation. He has taken you from your life. But you can make the most of what you have here, perhaps. 

“Let me assure you, my dear, I can still have plenty of fun,” he growls seductively into your ear as he grabs you by your bottom and rests you on your back on the mattress, planting heated, open mouthed kisses on your neck. You don’t have a reason to argue or protest, as he slips your silk robe off of your body, revealing your bare body as you’ve forgone wearing undergarments in this temple. At any point he may want access to you and you have accepted that part of your life just as you have everything else about this arrangement.

But that doesn’t mean you’re completely content with it. No, it just means you know when it is best to surrender.

A breathy gasp escapes your lips when his mouth lands on your folds, tongue rolling between them and circling your clit until it stiffens. 

You can distract yourself in these moments because now you have new thoughts that haunt your mind—does he remember the first time he’s ever had a candy he loved? What about going to carnivals and trying a funnel cake? What has made his eyes light up in childlike wonder in his youth before his role in the world stripped that away from him until there was nothing left behind than the evil possessing him? 

He calls your name and commands you to watch.

And you do, no more hesitations like before, when you would cower at the idea of even so much as glancing in his general direction. You boldly find his face, half of it lightly coated in your juices, some of it sliding off of his sharp chin as his dragon-like gaze bores into yours. 

“You taste divine as always,” he purrs as he closes his mouth over your hole, sucking hard. Not much longer until he coaxes the first orgasm of the night out of you, but he never stops at just one. Whether he admits it to himself or not, he does enjoy thoroughly spoiling you but not without something in return. “There’s nothing else I’d rather feast on, except, perhaps…”

His tongue laves your perineum before rimming your back hole, making your hands fly up to clamp your mouth shut in a poor effort to muffle your pitiful moan. 

“Such a dirty girl,” he teases with an audible kiss to your anus. “You like this hole being teased more, don’t you?” 

He snakes the tip of his tongue around the rim of your back hole again, before dipping it inside. You gasp again, arching your back off of the feathery bed. 

“This is the most exciting part of my day,” he continues to ramble on as he feasts on your asshole while two fingers rub your folds and clit to work another orgasm out of you. “Watching you come undone beneath me. This is what I find fun. Learning what can make you scream for me.”

He slurps against your back hole, fucking his tongue into the tight ring of muscle and he chuckles as you try to find some grounding. 

“This relaxes me,” he goes on, “Making you feel like this.”

Once he coaxes another orgasm out of you, he pulls back, allowing you to catch your breath as you come down from that mind numbing high. But then you glance at him and he’s inching toward you, guiding your head toward the tip of his cock, hard, veiny and leaking. 

He pats your cheek, beckoning you. 

“Open up,” he demands in a singsong tone and you obey, wordlessly, jaw hanging open as he pushes his tip past your lips and teeth. He growls at the sensation, the flat of your tongue gliding along his shaft as he inches just enough of his size. He tosses his head back, eyes rolling back into his skull as he bucks himself into your mouth, fucking your throat and thankfully you have trained yourself and don’t gag anymore when taking his size like you once did. His size doesn’t intimidate you like it once did.

Many things about Geto don’t intimidate you like they once did, the more you think about it. In a way, it is actually reassuring to know that he’s still just some person and you can still find power over that somewhere. 

Maybe you can’t figure out what to do with this information now… 

But it does remind you that you can still be a person beyond whatever Geto’s made you into for him too. 

You want to remember the girl you were. The girl whose eyes lit up at the sight of cute animals in videos or on the street. The girl who’s had her own hopes and dreams that still can be reached if she just fought hard enough.  The girl who had likes and dislikes and an identity. 

All outside whatever this is. 

He can’t take that away. He may have taken many things, but you have realized you have something to hold onto that he chose to throw away about himself.

You nearly choke a bit as Geto forces you to take his entire length as stringy shots of cum flood the back of your throat. He slips his cock out, still hard and needing to be inside you and your position shifts. He has you seated on his lap as he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance and pushes inside while a hand wraps around your neck. 

“Swallow,” he demands in a harsh whisper, more from arousal and you listen, you obey, because you haven’t a choice in this case. You still grimace from the zingy salty taste of him and it’s something you likely aren’t ever going to get used to, but you have come to be able to accommodate his size when he fucks you like this now. Long, deep, harsh. Each jerk of his hips shakes the bed. Now your body is in a coat of sweat and sometimes he likes to observe himself disappear into you while he murmurs into your ear about how well you take him. 

“You’re so perfect,” he praises, nipping your ear. “So good for me. Fuck, you feel like the perfect sleeve for my cock. You’re made for it.”

His other hand moves to fondle your breasts as he fucks into you, biting down on your shoulder as he comes inside, pumping you so full of his seed that some of it trickles out of your hole while he’s still inside of you, warming himself up. 

“This is plenty fun for me,” he assures you with a kiss to the shoulder he just bit. “Trust me, love, I haven’t grown dull.”

[childrenofcain-if]

Clingy D wasn't something I knew I needed. For research purposes, how would that fare though, author

the texas heat clung to D as they sat on the back porch of their grandfather’s old farm. the air smelled of earth and sunburnt grass, a scent that had grown oddly comforting in the months since they’d moved back.

the farm was quiet now, save for the low hum of cicadas and the occasional bark of a stray dog wandering by the fence. the peacefulness suited D—most days. but tonight, it was unbearable.

their phone sat on the wooden table in front of them, face down like it was a guilty party. they’d told themself they weren’t going to look at it anymore.

just leave it, rook, calm down.

stop being so needy, rook.

get your shit together, rook.

you’re always the recurring car crash, rook, the common denominator.

but their eyes flickered toward the phone anyway.

the truth sat under their ribs like a splinter: it had been three days since you’d texted anything more than a brief, polite response to a link they’d sent, and weeks since you’d called. three days of D’s mind running circles around itself, spiraling into every worst-case scenario it could conjure. and they were losing their grip. their fingers tapped restlessly on the armrest of the chair, their boot scuffing against the railing.

maybe you’re busy, they told themself for the fiftieth time that evening. new york is a big place. MBA programs are hard. you’ve got new friends now, fancy urbane friends who wear suits and drink wine like it’s water. you don’t have time to call your idiot partner who still wants to live in their old farmhouse down south and smells like hay and diesel these days.

that last thought stung, and D flinched like they’d spoken it aloud.

they picked up their phone and stared at the screen, willing your name to appear. a new message. a missed call. anything. they’d tried calling you twice yesterday but hung up before it even rang.

the phone buzzed suddenly in their hand, cutting through the peacefulness like a blade. D jumped, nearly dropping it in their haste to answer.

“hey,” they said, too quickly, the word coming out rough and broken, betraying how much they’d been waiting for this. they winced at their own pathetic eagerness.

“hi,” you replied. your voice was warm but tinged with something D couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t joy.

there was a pause, one of those long, awkward ones that stretched out like a wound neither of you wanted to clean out.

“why haven’t you replied to my texts?” you asked finally. your tone was light, sure, but the edge was unmistakable.

D blinked, thrown off-guard. “why haven’t you called me?”

the words left their mouth before they could stop them, sharper than intended, spilling out like blood from a clean incision. the silence on your end was deafening.

“excuse me?” you said after a moment, your voice now tight.

D pushed on, reckless now, the spiraling in their chest too loud to ignore.

“it’s been weeks,” they said, their voice rising despite themself. “weeks since you actually picked up the phone to call me. i’m supposed to be okay with a couple of dry texts here and there? a couple of ‘how are yous’ like you’re checking in on a goddamn houseplant? what am i even supposed to do with that? do you even want to talk to me anymore?”

“of course i want to talk to you!” you snapped, louder this time, frustration apparent in your tone. “but you’ve been so distant during our texts. i didn’t know if you even wanted to hear from me if you got too busy with the farm renovations.”

“distant?” D barked out a laugh, harsh and humorless. “i’m not the one out there living some shiny new life in new york city with shiny new friends. don’t talk to me about being distant when you’re the one who left!”

“oh wow, so it’s my fault now?”

“isn’t it?”

the words hung between you like a noose, both of you too angry to let go and too hurt to say anything else.

“this isn’t fair,” you said finally, your voice breaking just slightly, and D hated that they heard it, hated that they caused it. “you don’t get to put this all on me. you knew what this was going to be like. you knew it would be hard. you could’ve just come with me until renovations were done for the farm. you’re the one who insisted on supervising everything to stay in that stupid place.”

“don’t fucking call the farm stupid,” D shot back, their voice trembling now, but they couldn’t stop. “besides, i’m here, aren’t i? waiting by the damn phone every night like some... some pathetic—” they couldn’t finish the sentence.

“then maybe stop waiting!” you yelled, having had enough of it. “if this is so hard for you, maybe you should’ve just come here with me!”

the line went dead.

D stared at the phone in their hand, unblinking, as though willing it to come back to life. the silence that followed was heavier than the summer heat, heavier than anything they’d ever known.

they stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the porch, and paced back and forth like a caged animal.

“unbelievable,” they muttered under their breath, the anger bubbling up again. “they hang up on me? after all this? after—”

the thing about D was that they wouldn’t—couldn’t—express their emotions in words a lot of the time. sure, they could write about it, but writing about it was different than actually saying it. so these emotions were usually spelled out in other ways.

a bloody fist. a slow song. a naked dance.

but this time, the anger burned out as quickly as it came, leaving behind nothing but the ache. the ache they always carried, the one they could never name but always felt. they sank back into the chair, burying their face in their hands.

you’re going to lose them, a small voice whispered in the back of their mind, insidious and cruel. you’re going to push them away forever. they’ve grown tired of you because you’re too much. you’re always too much, rook.

the thought made them sicker than a glass of cheap liquor.

D picked up their phone again, their thumb hovering over your name in the call log. they could call you back. they could apologize. they could beg.

they pictured you in new york, surrounded by skyscrapers and lights, people who had never set foot on a farm in their life and who probably never will. they imagined themself there, awkward and out of place, fumbling with subway cards with their doc martens too scuffed, their drawl too thick and alien.

they never belonged in san francisco. they never belonged in new haven. they’d never belong in new york city.

but they’d go. if you asked, they’d go in a heartbeat. they’d go and make themself fit into your world if that’s what you wanted. they’d camouflage themself all over again like they did in california and connecticut. even if they hated it, they’d still try.

or maybe you could come back. just for a little while. they’d show you the stars again, the ones you couldn’t see in the ever-polluted cities. they’d hold you close and tell you they loved you, over and over, until you believed it.

but for now, they’d wait by the phone like dogs waited for their owners on the front porch—all day, and then the next.

here’s the pt. 2 to this.

[i-hate-people-1]

Tender lover

Eddie Munson x reader. Past Steve Harrington x reader

Warnings:just swearing.

Words: 4k

Not my gif

You’ve been pacing around your apartment for the better part of an hour waiting for Eddie to get there.

You and Eddie have been going out for seven months, and you were finally going to meet his friends. Needless to say, you were freaking out, and of course you got ready way too early, so now all you could do was pace and think about all of the what-ifs.

What if they don’t like you? What if they think you’re weird? What if you talk too much? What if you don’t talk enough? What if—

You were pulled out of your downward spiral by a knock that made you freeze in your spot. You recovered, shaking your head and running to your bathroom to look in the mirror, smoothing your hair down.

You ran out at the sound of a second knock, stopping at the door to take a few deep breaths before opening the door.

“I was beginning to think you weren’t home—" Eddie paused, the smirk on his face faltering as he looked at you up and down. “Wow, uh, you look, umm…” he cleared his throat, straightening up.

“What is it? Too much?” you asked, fiddling with your dress, anxiety beginning to bubble up again.

“What? No, no,” Eddie said quickly, stepping inside and shutting the door gently with his foot as he grabbed your hands, making you look up to meet his gaze. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes tightly, hands squeezing yours gently. “You look beautiful,” he said, opening his eyes and offering you a kind smile.

You return the smile. Leaning forward on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his lips, he grinned into it, one hand moving to your cheek to hold you there as the other pulled your body closer to his.

The only reason the two of you pull away is the lack of air, still staying close, lips barely touching as the two of you finally let oxygen into your lungs.

“You nervous?” He whispered, pulling away slightly to look at your face more clearly, cocking a brow.

“A little,” you whispered back through a sigh, avoiding his gaze as you said the next part out of embarrassment, “I’m just scared they won’t like me.”

“Hey,” he said to pull your attention back to him, smiling when your eyes met his again. “They’re gonna love you,” he told you plainly.

“But what if they don’t?” You asked as you chewed the inside of your lip; it was your nervous tick.

“Then I’ll find new friends,” he shrugged, pulling your bottom lip out so you’d stop biting it.

You laughed at his joke. “but honey, you love your friends,” you argued.

“Yeah, but I—” He paused, clearing his throat, making you raise your brows questioningly. “I, uh, I can’t make out with my friends,” he fumbled, stepping away from you as his cheeks reddened and he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’d hope not, weirdo,” you laughed, grabbing your purse off the counter and straightening your dress one last time. “You ready?” You asked, moving to the door.

He cleared his throat again. “Yeah, yeah, let’s go,” he said, opening the door.

You spent the car ride talking about your individual days at work and plans for the weekend, but as the ride went on, the anxiety came back, and by the time you pulled up the driveway, you had a slightly bloody lip and sweaty palms.

“It’s gonna be okay; I promise they’ll love you,” he told you as he put the car in park, turning to you, pulling your lip from between your teeth again. “You gotta stop stressing; they’re my friends. Trust me, they’re not cool; in fact, most of them are losers,” he laughed.

“What?” You laughed.

“Well, I’m not cool and a loser too, so I had to settle for what I could get,” he joked, shrugging, avoiding your gaze to fiddle with his hands.

“Hey,” you whispered, grabbing his chin to look at you. “You’re not a loser, and neither are your friends.” He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss.

“Thank you. They’re not losers, but I promise you they aren’t intimidating,” he told you as he kissed you one more time. “Oh, and most of them are 17. Okay, let’s go inside,” he said, jumping out of the car and moving to your side of the car to get your door for you.

“What?” You questioned again as he opened the door.

“It’s a long story,” he shrugged, grabbing your hand to lead you inside.

For a second you thought you recognized the house but chalked it up to it being the destination of a high school party or something.

“Okay, so what’s the story?” You asked as you made it to the front door, Man, that really looks familiar. Have you been here before or something?.

“Well, they’re a part of my D&D club, and you know I was a super, super, super senior, so it’s not weird, or maybe it is; I don’t know; some of them are my age,” Eddie rambled, eyes wide; you knew he was stressing from the erratic nature of his hand movements.

“Oh my—“ you paused, grabbing his face. “Eddie, is that why you waited so long to introduce me to them? Because you thought I’d judge you?” He nodded guiltily, eyes bouncing around to avoid your gaze again. “Oh honey,” you whispered softly, pouting your bottom lip in sympathy. “Eddie, I’m not going to judge you. I don’t care.” At this, Eddie’s eyes finally met yours again.

“I know I’m sorry,” he whispered, hanging his head a little.

“Eddie,” you whined, grabbing his chin to lift his head up, “you don’t have to be sorry; I just don’t want you to feel like you have to hide things from me,” you told him.

“I know I don’t. I just—I like you so much, and I didn’t want you to find out I’m a loser with seventeen-year-olds for friends—“

“Eddie,” you cut him off, “you are not a loser, and nothing you can do would make me think that,” you finished sternly, your pointer finger pushing his chest to make your point.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss. “Alright,” he sighed, pulling away. “Let’s go inside; we’re getting way too valuable on Steve’s porch,” he laughed, grabbing your hand and leading you inside.

Your eyes widened as he said the words. Steve’s porch. Steve’s porch. The words kept floating around in your head until it clicked as you were met with the entryway of the house, and oh my god, how could you be so stupid? That’s how you knew the house. Oh no, oh no, oh no. Why, why, why, why? You questioned the universe in your head.

“Sweetheart, are you still freaking out?” Eddie asked as he helped you out of your coat.

“Um, you know what? I’m not feeling so well; maybe we could just go back to my place and reschedule,” you said, frantically trying to come up with an excuse to get you out of this house and away from this situation. Oh my god, Eddie was going to break up with you.

“Come on, babe, I promise it’s gonna be okay; they’ll love you,” he laughed as he grabbed your hand, leading you into the living room.

“Eddie, wait.” You stopped him in the hallway. “Eddie I have something to tell you.

“Okay?” Eddie said, giving you a funny look, “Can it wait, though? My friends are right in there,” he said, gesturing behind him to the entrance.

“Yeah, yeah, it can wait,” you said, smiling at him. Ugh, you were a horrible person. You should have told him, but you just couldn’t do it. You couldn’t lose him, and you know maybe this was all just a random coincidence. Stuff like that happens all the time. Unfortunately, all your hopes came crashing down when you entered the living room and saw none other than Steve Harrington standing there.

“Hey guys,” Eddie said, announcing your presence in the room and bringing all eyes on you, one pair doubling in size. “Guys, this is my girlfriend—“

“Y/N?” Steve interrupted, shock evident on his face.

“Yeah, Y/N, that was kinda my line, dude.” Eddie rolled his eyes, grabbing your hand to pull you further into the room. “So I’m guessing you know Steve,” he laughed, “but um, that’s Dustin, that’s Robin, that’s…” Eddie's voice trailed off as you looked at Robin; judging by the amused look on her face and the laughter she was barely keeping in, she knew, you looked at Steve with wide eyes.

“Babe? Baby? Sweetheart?” You heard Eddie say, “Y/N, are you okay?” He chuckled slightly, with worry in his eyes, and he followed your gaze to Steve, looking back and forth between the two of you suspiciously. “Okay, what’s going on?” he asked, eyes still bouncing from Steve to you, Steve to you.

“Eddie,” Steve said cautiously, moving towards him a step as Robin finally lost it, doubling over in laughter.

Eddie’s face looked even more confused. “Oh, you gotta tell him,” Robin said through laughter.

“Tell me what?” Eddie's questioning eyes stayed on you.

“Yeah, tell him what?” Dustin asked as well, making you look around the room to see all of them listening intently, just as curious as your boyfriend.

“If you don’t tell him, I’m going to tell him.” Robin said, getting serious for a second, “Oh, can I tell him? Can I please tell him?” She asked amusement for the situation back.

“TELL ME WHAT!?!” Eddie yelled, looking at the girl, as Steve shrugged, looking away from Eddie.

“Well, um, Munson I really hate to be the one to tell you this, but, uh, Steve has—“ she giggled, losing her fake seriousness. “Steve has, umm…” she lost it again.

“Robin, if you don’t tell me what Steve has… right now I’m gonna lose it,” Eddie said, shaking the girl's shoulders.

“Okay, okay, Steve has boned your girlfriend. God, take all the fun out of it,” Robin sighed, shrugging his arms off hers.

Eddie laughed uncomfortably. “Okay, Robs, that’s not even a little bit funny. There’s no way Steve has fucked my girl—” The words died in his throat as his gaze sifted to you, ready to be met with a face of confusion, face contorting in disgust when he saw the look of guilt on your face.

“Ughhhh!” Eddie yelled, “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew!” Eddie repeated as he began to pace.

“Eddie, dude, calm down; it’s not that big of a deal,” Dustin said, standing to comfort the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Shut up, Henderson,” Eddie warned, slapping his hand away. Dustin put his hands up in surrender, stepping back slowly. ”Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, oh my god, my dick has been where Harrington's has ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, he said as he continued his pacing.

“Eddie, please stop pacing; just give us a second to explain.” Steve stood with his hands on his hips in true Steve Harrington fashion.

“Explain what Harrington?” Eddie asked, giving Steve little time to answer before he was speaking again. “Because unless the next words out of your mouth are, ‘Robin suffered a severe brain injury today that makes her think you’ve boned my girl, I really don’t want to hear it,” he snapped, moving his head in your direction. “Is it true?” He asked you, snapping out of your dazed state.

You sighed, preparing yourself to answer as his doe eyes looked at you with that pitiful hurt look he gets. “It was a long time ago,” you whispered, stepping towards him, reaching out before catching yourself. The last thing he probably wanted was to be touched by you.

So you pulled back, arms crossing over your chest, ready for him to yell at you, break up with you, call you a whore. You wouldn’t blame him; hell, you’d understand; you were a whore in this situation.

You lifted your eyes from the floor when you were met with silence on his part, searching his face for some kind of emotion you could pinpoint, but the poor boy's brain was moving a hundred miles a minute. You could tell by the subtle back-and-forth motion his eyes made as he stood in shock. “It was—how—you—ugh—" Eddi stammered, pushing the heel of his hand against his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts.

“Eddie, baby, deep breaths,” you instructed him, pulling his hands from his eyes and placing them on your chest so he could feel your heartbeat and feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed.

After a minute Eddie’s breathing calmed down, the crazy look in his eyes lessening slightly. “How long ago?” He asked through breaths, trying his best to stay calm.

“High school,” you said, averting your gaze out of guilt and shame.

“High school?” He reiterated questioningly.

“Junior year,” you said through a sigh, knowing the information would freak him out more.

“KING STEVE?!?” Eddie yelled, lowering his voice when you flinched due to his loudness, “I’m sorry; it’s just you slept with King Steve; that makes it so much worse,” he said, backing away to sit on the couch, slumping dramatically.

“How is it worse?” Steve asked, arms now crossed over his chest.

“Because you were cool back then,” Eddie sighed, hands covering his face.

“Hey,” Steve whined. “I’m still cool, right, Robin?” Steve finished turning to the girl beside him.

“Oh Dingus, don’t do this to me,” she sighed, sitting beside Eddie. Steve had an offended look on his face. “Look, Munson, I know it seems bad right now, but she’s dating you, not Dingus, so that’s gotta count for something, right?” She said, offering him a sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie mumbled, moving his hands to cross over his chest.

“And I don’t even understand how either of you pulled her,” she added, gesturing towards you.

“I know how I pulled her,” Steve scoffed, making everyone roll their eyes.

“Eddie, it really didn’t mean anything. We went on three dates in high school,” you cut in, sitting beside him.

“Yeah, and we only slept together three times,” Steve said, shrugging. “What?” He asked when he was met with glares from his friends.

“We did not,” you scoffed. “It was only twice,” you told him, standing.

“No second date in a janitor's closet at school and third date.” Steve told you, holding up a finger after each point, waving them in your face, “See, three.”

“Shut up,” you said, smacking his hand away. “We did not hook up in a janitor's closet in between our second and third date,” you told him plainly.

“Really?” He asked, confusion taking over his expression, “Man, was I an asshole I am so sorry,” Steve said, hanging his head.

“It’s fine, Harrington; when you didn’t call me after our date and showed up with Nancy Wheeler the following week, I kind of didn’t put cheating past you,” you shrugged.

“What?” Nancy jumped in, giving Steve a disgusted look.

“Really, Nace, you want to judge me for cheating?” Steve bit back, eyes drifting between her and Johnathan.

“We were technically broken up,” she said unconvincingly.

“Hey, can we get back to the issue at hand, please?” Eddie said, sitting up on the couch.

“Yeah, Steve, how the fuck were you rolling in women in high school?” Robin asked, throwing her hands up. “I mean, you just openly admitted to screwing Nancy in a janitor's closet while you were dating Y/N, and this dude still gets pussy. How?” She asked again, her face one of utter confusion.

“Good point, but not what I was talking about, Robs,” Eddie said, opening his mouth to say more before Nancy cut him off.

“Umm, actually that wasn’t me in the closet,” Nancy said.

“It wasn’t?!?” Steve asked, eyes wide again.

“No, we didn’t sleep together until the night you had that party,” she explained, throwing up quotation marks around the word party.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Steve agreed. “Wait, so who did I fuck in the janitor's closet?” Steve asked, though due to the nature of the question, you assumed he was asking himself.

“Seriously, this dude's the one drowning in bitches.” Argyle laughed, “Hey, isn’t it kind of funny that he fucked both your girlfriends?” Argyle said, pointing at Jonathan and Eddie seriously, before bursting into laughter again.

“Sorry.” Jonathan sighed, patting his friend’s back with the arm that wasn’t around Nancy. “he’s smoked a lot so much he’s kinda got this like eternal high; also, he was smoking before we picked him up.”

“Been there,” Eddie said, making Argyle stop laughing and getting real serious all of a sudden.

“Wow dude, you smoke too?” He asked very seriously.

“Yes, Argyle, we’ve smoked together. I sell you your weed,” Eddie said, furrowing his brows at the boy.

“No shit!” Argyle shouted, “Guys, this is my dealer!” He yelled again. “What do you have for me, man?” He questioned.

“What nothing?”

“Oh dude, you’re kind of not really a good drug dealer.” Argyle told him again very seriously.

“Argyle we’re friends,I’m here to hang out,” Eddie explained slowly, making sure to enunciate for the boy.

“Oh yeahhhhh,” he laughed, a dopey smile never leaving as he drew out the word “Oh hey man, I really hate to have to tell you this, but that guy totally fucked your  girl." Argyle said, pointing at Steve, before falling back onto the couch, making the whole group laugh.

“Thanks for the heads up, buddy,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes. “It’s nice to know one of my friends cares.” Glares fixed on Steve Harrington.

“What do you want me to do, man? Go back in time and not fuck her?” Steve asked, throwing his arms up in frustration.

“Yeah, kinda,” Eddie answered snarky as ever.

“Well, I can’t, so you’re just gonna have to get over it,” Steve said, gesturing to the boy. “Because last time I checked, they haven’t invented time travel, also it was a great lay, and I don’t want to, so suck it, Munson.” Steve finished, sticking his tongue out at Eddie.

“You sure about that, Harrington?” Max asked, clearly teasing the boy.

“Yeah, I think we should get a second opinion,” Lucas added, standing from his place on the floor next to Max, narrating as he walked to you, “We’re live on the scene, having just found out Eddie’s girlfriend has boned Steve, and now we’re tuning in for the answer to the question we all want to know: Was it in fact a great lay?” Lucas asked you in a goofy voice and all as he held his balled fist to your chin, pretending it was a microphone.

“What? This is so stupid, Eddie. Tell them to cut it out.” Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“No, I’m actually kind of curious. Was it?” Eddie restated making you roll your eyes at the group's antics.

“Eh, it was fine,” you said, playing into the scene by leaning forward to speak into the “microphone.”.

“Ohhhh,” the group all let out mockingly.

“You heard it here first , folks: Steve “the king”Harrington is in fact not a good lay,” Lucas said, clapping a hand on Steve’s back. “Would you like to comment on this, Steve?” he added, holding his hand up to him.

“Get that thing out of my face, Sinclair,” Steve said, slapping the boy's hand away. “You’re telling me Munson's better in the sack than me?” Steve turned to you appalled.

“Yeah,” you told him plainly, shrugging.

“Okay, now she’s just lying,” Steve said.

“Have you considered that maybe I’m just a better lover than you?” Eddie butted in.

Steve looked at Eddie, squinting his eyes at the boy. “Nope, that’s not it.”

“I don’t know, man, maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are.” Eddie said, standing up, Steve’s glare fixed on him as he walked in. In spite of that, Eddie continued, “Maybe your dick is small, or maybe you’re just not a tender lover.”

“I am so a tender lover!” Steve cut him off. “You tell him I’m a tender lover,” he finished, pointing a finger at you.

“Wow dude, you cannot ask my girlfriend to call you a tender lover. Not cool,” Eddie told him, pushing his arm down.

“Why not? It’s not like she’s going to be your girlfriend forever,” Steve said, rolling his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, butting in.

“It’s just Munson doesn’t really do long-term relationships; he’s more of a love ’em and let ’em go kinda guy.” Steve shrugged. “I mean, the guy's never even been in love.”

“I have so,” Eddie defended himself.

“When?” Steve asked, raising a brow teasingly.

“I—um,” Eddie stammered, eyes shifting to you, subtly trying to get the boy to lay off. Eddie loved you; he was sure of it, but telling you that wasn’t something he was sure of. What if you didn’t love him back? I mean, why would you and he did not want to scare you off.

“What dude, I’m waiting,” Steve pushed, unaware of the tension.

“Oh my God, Harrington, read the fucking room,” Max yelled.

“What do you oh—” Harrington said, coming to the realization second to last, leaving only a confused you behind, “Oh dude, you love her,” Steve said, quickly slapping a hand over his mouth when your eyes widened, face washing over with shock. “You’re going to try and kill me now, aren’t you?” Steve asked Eddie face full of nothing but pure rage.

“No, no, I’m going to kill you,” Eddie corrected, tackling the boy.

The two of them wrestled around until Eddie made it on top, hitting the boy in the ribs. “What is wrong with you? You’re the stupidest person to ever walk the face of the planet. Why would you tell her that?” Eddie yelled, keeping the boy pinned down.

“I’m sorry I am. I’m really stupid, but you’re being even more stupid than me!”

“How is that even possible!”

“Well, she ran away because you made it seem like you don’t love her!”

“What?” Eddie asked, turning around quickly, stumbling off of Steve to run after you when he didn’t see you standing there.

“Y/N, wait!” You heard just as you made it past the van. “Hey, where are you going?” He asked as he made it to you.

“I thought I’d spare you having to break up with me in front of all your friends,” you told him, avoiding his gaze, hoping it was dark enough that he couldn’t see the tears streaming down your face.

“What?” Eddie began, but you cut him off.

“Eddie, it’s fine. Look, I know that I slept with one of your friends, and you obviously don’t love me,” you paused, your voice breaking as you said the words. “So I’m, uhh, I’m just gonna go,” you finished, fresh tears now falling.

“Y/N, will you cut it out? I’m not going to break up with you because you slept with Steve,” he said, grabbing your face to make you look at him, thumbs gently rubbing your tears away.

“You’re not?”

“No, silly, I love you,” Eddie said, smiling brightly.

“You do?” Eddie chuckled at this.

“Yeah, I’m just an idiot, and I was scared, but I really, really do, so please don’t leave me,” Eddie whispered the last part, his gaze shifting down as he let you go. “But, uh, you know, if you don’t—if you don’t—if you want to go, you can; I won’t stop you,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously.

“You’re right about one thing,” you said, stepping closer as he let out a dejected, “Oh.Yeah, you’re an idiot, Eddie Munson,” you told him, grabbing his face and smashing his lips to your own.

Eddie reacted quickly, lips moving against yours, picking you up off your feet.

“Oh wait,” you said, pulling away. Eddie furrowed his brow at you but kept you in the air.

“You forget something?” He chuckled, still confused.

“I love you,” you told him.

“Really?” He asked bright Eddie Munson, smile as you nodded, unable to keep the dopey smile off your own face. “Good,” he said, pulling you back in for another kiss.

“Okay, I just have one question, then we can put the whole Steve thing to bed,” Eddie said, pulling away from the kiss.

“What’s up?” You asked, laughing, as he put you down.

“Exactly how big is Harrington's dick?” He asked, staying serious as you laughed, “Come on, sweetheart, this is serious. Tell me when to stop,” he said, holding his hands up and close together, looking between you and his hands as he moved them apart.

“Come on, your friends are waiting,” you said, rolling your eyes as you walked back towards the house.

Eddie laughed, running after you.

“Okay, let’s do this again,” Eddie said, stepping into the living room. “Everyone, this is my girlfriend Y/N,” Eddie told his friends, smiling hopefully.

“Hey!” They all shouted, standing up to greet you two.

[juyeonszn]

BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT

THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!

YOU’RE INVITED!

PAIRING tbz x f!reader

GENRES smut ﹒fluff ﹒minimal angst ﹒crack

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mature language, mentions of alcohol, sexual content, more warnings per individual fic!

SUMMARY have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? if so, then these fics are just for you! join us as we take a glimpse into the tau beta zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!

MORE LETS GAURRRRR i’m so excited to announce this collab with loml reese both as a cute fun little idea we had and in celebration of her 1 year tumblr anniversary! we also realized it happened to be the same day as tbz day LOL so that’s kinda crazy 😭 my boyz have been here for 6 years wow 💔 anyways i hope all of u love these as much as we do! and always, don’t forget to rb if u enjoyed!! send an ask if u’d like to be tagged in these <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies

FALL SEMESTER

TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)

Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)

You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.

SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)

It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of school work for you.

CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)

When Haknyeon ran into you at a TBZ party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. Or literally. Or both simultaneously. But there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.

“FRIENDLY” COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)

The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?

JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)

Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.

SPRING SEMESTER

LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)

Younghoon has hated you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)

Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.

NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)

When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.

PARTY O’CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)

In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.

PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 1/1, PT. 2 1/3)

It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.

© juyeonszn & itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[hoshifighting]

hi there!!! can u pls make svt’s reaction seeing their ex with someone new? (they havent moved on yet)

seungcheol’d try to play it cool, but inside it burns it really does. his jaw would clench as he watches you laugh with someone else, and he’d force a smile when you catch his eye, but the second you turn away, his expression hardens. “so that’s who you’re with now, hm?” he’d mutter under his breath, feeling the sting of jealousy in his chest.

jeonghan is another one who would try to smile, but you know it’s just a front. he’d raise an eyebrow when he sees you with someone new, giving you a lazy wave like it doesn’t matter to him. “hope they treat you better than I did,” he’d say as soon as you’re out of sight.

joshua's soft smile would falter the moment he sees you with someone else. he’d look away quickly, pretending not to care, but inside, it’s like a punch to the gut. “so you’ve moved on…” he’d whisper to himself, forcing a polite nod in your direction. but you’d catch the hurt in his eyes before he looks away again.

junhui’d try to be all casual about it, like drink water on a hot day, flashing a grin when he sees you, you can tell he’s dying inside. the second you leave, he’s replaying every moment in his head, wondering if he could’ve done something different to keep you.

hoshi’d stare for a second too long, his face will look ass as he watches you with someone new. “oh… you’ve moved on,” he’d say softly, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips—he honestly thought that you would never move on from him. he’d try to act like it doesn’t bother him, but you can see the sadness/jealousy in his eyes, even as he forces a laugh.

wonwoo would try to be stoic as ever, but inside, he’s a big big mess. he’d keep his expression neutral, barely glancing at you and your new partner, but his mind is racing. “guess it’s really over,” he’d think, his realization heaving. he wouldn’t say anything, just shove his hands in his pockets and walk away, pretending it didn’t bother him, even though it does. and a lot.

woozi is another one who would act like he doesn’t care, but the second he sees you with someone else, his stomach drops, his ego, broken. “so that’s how it is now,” he’d mutter, trying to focus on anything but the tightness in his chest. he’d avoid eye contact, his lips pressed into a thin line, and he’d go quiet, retreating into his thoughts, replaying what went wrong.

minghao’d put on his most indifferent face, pretending not to care, but there’s a storm brewing behind his eyes. heart is aching. he’d watch you from a distance, trying to convince himself that he’s moved on, but the jealousy gnaws at him, making him second-guess everything.

mingyu dont even try to hide it, hes visibly upset. the moment he sees you with someone new, his face falls, and he’s struggling to hide the hurt. he’d probably give a little wave or a tight-lipped smile, but would look away even faster before he ball his eyes in front of you and your partner.

seokmin wouldd try to smile when he sees you, but it’d be shaky, he would have trembling hands hid inside his hoodie pockets. he’s trying to convince himself that is better this ways, that he's way better when he's single. but he’d quickly excuse himself after that, not wanting you to see how much it’s really hurting him.

seungkwan would try to laugh it off. “wow, you didn’t waste any time, huh?” he’d joke, but the bitterness in his voice would be so obvious. he’d glance away, trying to keep his cool, but he’s absolutely fucked, and the second he’s alone, he’s spiraling, replaying the breakup all over again, I think he wouldn't even answer your friendly messages after, because he cant stand the idea of talking with you, when you're not his anymore.

vernon would go quiet so fucking fast, he’d just give you a curt nod when he sees you with someone new, trying to swallow down the jealousy, but the truth is that he's gagging with it. “guess that’s it, then,” he’d think to himself, walking away without saying a word. but inside, he’s feeling more than he’d ever admit. would probably cry alone right after, isolated from the world.

chan would be hurt hurt, real affected but trying not to show it. he’d see you with someone new, and his heart would sink, but he’d force a smile, because he needs to show that he's oh so strong, and that he moved on too, as soon as you’re gone, he’s beating himself up inside, wondering if he could’ve done something to stop this from happening. would pray that it was just a nightmare.

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | two.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, eventual smut

—word count: 4.3k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing/mature language, very much giving slow burn till chapter 5 (sawwie hehe but san/oc drop more hints in ch 3-4), mingi tryna be matchmaker but san's mind is elseeewhere (which will add a lil more spice to the spice thats already planned lol), flashback scene that involves crying & hints of infidelity

"Wow, there's a lot more people here than I expected." You tippy-toe to look over the crowd, falling in line to get your freebies at the entrance of the winter quarter welcome event.

"Do you know where the boys are at?"

"They said they were coming?" Eunchae says, also looking around and over the crowd. The line inches quickly, bringing you closer to the free university-branded hats and water bottles they were giving out. Today's event was not only to set the tone for the quarter, but to showcase all the student groups, benefits, and wellness programs available for everyone. As soon as you grab your freebies, you, Eunchae and Jurin completely forget about the boys making their way over and start walking around to grab more. You find that one of the student groups is handing out reusable bags, which you gladly take one in order to walk around comfortably. You, Jurin and Eunchae also participate in a few small games and raffles, taking pictures at the photobooths set up. Some university staff snap photos of you three while you wait in line to cash in your free lunch voucher at one of the food trucks. 

Once you've grabbed your food and settled down, the three of you find a good space on the lawn near the stage to slowly indulge in your food and the dessert. Namjoon is getting ready to start his speech for the event, while the other professors set to give a small talk are hovering off to the side engaging in conversation.

"Yo! Is anyone listening?" Professor Kim Namjoon, department chair of bioengineering, taps the mic a few times as he steps on the stage. He slowly paces around with a hand in his pocket, giving off a smile while he waits for everyone near the stage to quiet down and listen to his little speech. "Nice, nice. I'm grabbing attention, I still got it." He chuckles to himself. "Anyway, they had me come up here to kick off the welcome event. There's a good lineup of talks coming up, so please stick around for that. I promise it'll be worthwhile." Namjoon points to San. "Choi San is on the lineup. Kang Yeosang. Just to name a few. I know ya'll wanted to hear that in particular." He jokes. The crowd laughs when he gives everyone a certain look, scanning the crowd to read their expressions. "Alright, so another quarter—" Is how he starts his speech off, giving himself two minutes to give a heartwarming welcome to all the students, faculty and staff. The next session kicks off shortly after, with a few faculty members talking about their early days in their departments and what they're focusing on now. 

After Namjoon wraps it up, he introduces San and kicks it off for him— giving him a big, warm smile as he greets him on the stage and hands him the mic. He's dressed in a thick, black half-zip sweater, black slacks and boots. You briefly glance around the crowd, all eyes glued to Professor Choi; lots of people looking at him in pure admiration just like you and your friends. His talk flows well, and he easily transitions from talking about his early career days to where he is now and what his focus is. He speaks with so much poise and grace, it's obvious he's incredibly passionate about what he does. He has a softness to him, a certain glint in his eyes while he slowly paces the stage and maintains contact with his crowd. 

"He's so fucking dreamy, are you kidding?" Eunchae mumbles. You giggle and gently nudge her before returning your attention to the stage. Your eyes glance over to the side, smiling to yourself as Namjoon plays around with everyone around him. Professor Lee Iseul stands off to the side next to her husband, and they quietly remain to themselves. She watches as San does his talk, arms folded tightly against her chest and she couldn't look any more disinterested. You clearly don't know the full story, and it's definitely none of your business. But, you can't help but be a little curious as to what happened between her and Professor Choi and why she acts the way she does around him.

"Aye." Felix plops down next to you. "Where have you been, loca?" You snort, pushing him and causing him to almost fall to the side. "Ouch. We've been calling and texting!"

"Next time, don't be late." Jiung plops down next to him.

"We were trying to find the free smoothies and acai bowls!"

"Excuse me?" Jurin looks at Jiung. "Why didn't I know about this?!"

"Maybe cause you were too busy drooling over Professor Choi and his friends." Jurin sticks her tongue out at him. "It's over there. We just didn't get to it before coming to the lawn."

"I'm definitely going as soon as these talks are over." 

"I want some, too!" Eunchae adds.

"We can go." You chime in.

"We're gonna lose you guys again!" Felix slightly whines.

"You won't! You can just sit here and save our spot." Eunchae smiles with some sass. "That way, we have our spots and you won't lose us."

"Fine." Felix clicks his teeth before returning his attention to the stage. The rest of the talks also go well— Yeosang taking the stage next after San, with a few other professors. Iseul does a talk, and although San doesn't care much for it, he at least tries his best to show some support in front of the crowd and be the bigger person.

He does it to just keep the peace. Mainly for Namjoon. San knows he did a lot to try and bury all the mess that went down, even got in trouble for trying to do so. Namjoon cares about San and his other friends, he'd do anything to protect them. But yes, there is no denying that it was a shit show. 

Once all the talks have concluded, you, Eunchae and Jurin scurry off to the smoothie and acai booth, taking the boys' orders to kill two birds with one stone. The lawn and surrounding areas are back to being loud and chaotic with everyone trying to go around and finish grabbing freebies and samples, and participate in other games. You and your friends fall in line and wait for about 15 minutes before they've taken your orders, another 10 minutes before they've given you your drinks.

"Oh shit, this is good." Jurin sips on her drink as it sits in the carrier with Felix's and Jiung's. 

"It is. The boys finally have a good eye." You snort.

"Leave them be."

"What! It's true! I didn't think they'd care much for the stuff here at the event, but here they are, putting on their favorite girls to free smoothies." You laugh, sipping on your own matcha smoothie. Once Eunchae has gotten her drink, the three of you start to make your way back towards the boys on the lawn.

"Oop—" You let out a small squeal, damn near coming face to face with Professor's Choi's chest when you turn. He's about to grab his own smoothie from the worker when you quite literally almost run into him trying to keep up with Eunchae and Jurin. "Oh, I'm sorry Professor Choi." You feel the heat rise to your cheeks even though you didn't do anything wrong.

"No worries. Good morning, ladies." Professor Choi flashes you, Eunchae and Jurin that 100-watt, dimpled smile that everyone is crazy head over heels for. He does a curt bow to acknowledge you and your friends properly, Eunchae and Jurin biting on their bottom lips to prevent themselves from smiling too big and giggling too loud. "How are you doing?"

"Good. Really good. Great talk, by the way!" Eunchae says, making him chuckle at her reaction. "How are you doing?"

"Aw, thanks. I'm good, can't complain. You guys having a good start to the quarter already?"

"I'd say so, yeah. Can't complain either." Jurin adds, holding onto the drink tray tightly. He nods, but turns his direct attention to you with a small smile. "Y/N. Excited to meet next week and talk about projects."

"I am, too." His eyes linger on yours for a little longer and Eunchae doesn't miss it. She gives your arm a good, subtle [but hard] squeeze— one that has you slightly squirming in her grip while trying to maintain eye contact with Professor Choi. He furrows his brows a bit when he catches it, trying his best not to chuckle at the way you and your friends are acting around him.

"Yo!" Mingi says, patting San's shoulder. His eyes go from him to the three girls in front, still lingering around. "Beautiful morning, ladies! Hope you're enjoying the event." 

"Hi Professor Song." You all say dreamily, watching as the taller man chuckles and bounces to the music playing. 

"Sorry to have to do this, but mind if I steal Professor Choi from you?"

"Go for it!" You respond. "See you next week, Professor Choi." You smile sweetly at him and he swears he feels his knees buckle a bit. He watches as the three of you turn and squeal, definitely talking about them as you continue to walk away and find other things to distract yourselves with.

"What's new?" Mingi laughs, making San chuckle.

"Stop it. They're just enjoying themselves." Mingi gives him a look that screams 'sure, whatever you say,' but he keeps it professional. Doesn't make any side comments and keeps it at bay, even though he enjoys the eye candy himself. They're still young. Although work and keeping up with their labs is tough, they're finally out of school— which their days only consisted of science, publishing papers, graduating ASAP and launching their own careers. Of course, they've had their shares in relationships, one night stands, situationships; whatever you wanna call it, all clearly not working out because of all the work they've had to put in. The attention they've had to put into their education, early careers. It has become such a norm for them that a relationship isn't even in their minds right now. Not because they don't want to, but because they're afraid. Afraid of not having enough time while they're still balancing their loads, afraid they'll accidentally put their relationships on a backburner. Afraid of things just falling out terribly. Mingi can honestly say he's afraid because of how San's marriage unfolded. Of course, all experiences are unique, but it still doesn't mean he can't be afraid of his own. 

Once they've gotten a better hang of things, then maybe. Right now, everything seems risky. Everything.

"Mmkay." Mingi snorts. "Good talk earlier."

"Thanks, my guy." San smiles. "They asked me to do it last minute because someone else dropped the ball."

"That was a nice impromptu talk then." Mingi and San start walking down the path, greeting other faculty and students that pass them by. "How is your progress report going?"

"Almost done now that I've gotten my class schedule out of the way."

"You have two TAs this semester, right?"

"Mhm. Alex is actually doing a bulk of the classes, then the TAs. I'm teaching 8 classes this entire quarter."

"That's nice." 

"What about you?"

"Around the same. I've got Doyun helping take over most lectures, along with the TAs."

"Can't believe it's another quarter."

"Time just flies." He nods towards another group of professors. "By the way, have you met the new Applied Physics professor? Zara?"

"What's her last name?"

"Cho."

"Oh." San nods. "Yeah, heard of her. I saw the announcement about her starting, but that's it."

"Let's go say hi." Mingi smirks, causing San to furrow his brows in confusion.

"Why?"

"Don't we like meeting new people?"

"For good reason, yeah. Not yours."

"Hey, mine is a good reason. Who says it isn't?" Mingi smiles. "You know, just making her feel welcomed." He lazily hangs his arm over her shoulder. "Discussing potential collaborations, joint advising." San rolls his eyes, shaking his head just as they approach the group. 

"Yeah, let's keep it there." 

"Maybe—" Mingi suddenly shifts his attention to the group as soon as they face him and greet the both of them. Phew, San thinks. Now he doesn't have to hear the stupid shit bound to come out of his mouth. "Hey!"

"I was looking for you two." Namjoon has hands dug deep into his pockets with that usual Namjoon smile of his, Yeosang on his free side. "Wanted to introduce you to Zara Cho." He looks down at her and gestures at the two. "Zara, this is Mingi and San. Both under bioengineering with me, Mingi in Biology by courtesy, too."

"Oh, I've heard all about you two." She smiles. She's got a beautiful smile, and San notices the way her eyes glaze over him the most. She's attractive, and she's softspoken; has a certain grace that she upholds. Her hair is in a pretty bob that comes right below her jawline, and it fits her well. "It's an honor, truly." She says, shaking their hands.

"So, how's it been on campus so far?" San asks.

"It's been alright, I think. Settling in well and trying to get a hang of things."

"Thats good! Taking it day by day." She nods in agreement with a small giggle. "How's getting the lab situated going?" Mingi chimes in.

"Ah, it's tough but I at least have a post-doc and grad student onboard." She shrugs.

"It's a start. Sooner or later, it'll be overflowing with them." She giggles and nods.

"Yeah, that's the hope." She fully turns to San again. "Now that I'm a bit settled, I was hoping we could chat a bit more, San." Mingi shoots him this certain Mingi look before slowly nodding with a smirk.

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Don't you have a free schedule in the afternoon?" Mingi instigates, making San furrow his brows in confusion.

"Uh yeah, but I was hoping to—" Mingi nudges him.

"Sure you can make a few minutes, yeah?" Namjoon chuckles. San doesn't mean to shrug her off or anything. Truthfully, he can get pretty shy and he is aware of the work she does. He just doesn't wanna make a fool out of himself, and he wants to make sure their conversation is productive; as with any he has.

"We can meet any time, no worries." 

"No, they're right. Later is good. My office is at the Harvey Center."

"I can stop by later in the afternoon if you're around? 4:30 or 5?"

"4:30 is good."

"Cool." She looks around before checking her watch. "Hate to cut this short, but I have to head back for a meeting." She gives everyone a curt bow. "See you all around?" Everyone says bye in their own ways before Namjoon and Yeosang close the gap in between them, Mingi and San.

"I knew I couldn't trust your reasoning." San glares at Mingi and he chuckles.

"Bruh, I told you. Collaborations and co-advisorships are in the works." Namjoon laughs.

"He's not entirely wrong but, she seemed to be a big fan of your work. Thought it'd be good to chat with her anyway."

"I don't trust you guys." Yeosang snorts.

"Just have a good productive meeting." Yeosang pauses. "And if it ever flourishes into anything, we'll be right there to support—"

"I knew it. I'm heading back to my office." San starts to walk away from the group, sipping on this smoothie.

"Just want you happy!" Namjoon yells.

"I am already!" San smirks before saluting at the three and heading back to the Harvey Center. He greets people on the way over to his office, checking in on a few of his lab members before shutting himself away in his office. San likes to think he's happy. He feels happy. He doesn't think he's lacking anywhere even though for the longest time, he felt like he was after his marriage fell apart. It took him a long time to get to where he is now, and he hopes he'll never go back to feeling that way. Feeling hurt, lost. Betrayed.

—FLASHBACK

"Hey." Jongho looks at San with concern, stepping aside to let him into his home. San gives him a forced, tiny smile, but doesn't say much— immediately making his way to Jongho's couch. Jongho can tell it's been a rough couple of days, San looking more exhausted than he's ever seen him. His eyes are red. Hair's a mess. He can tell San hasn't had a proper meal or sleep, yet he's still coming into work like he's okay. 

He can only imagine how difficult it is. To have someone go from being your world— to absolutely nothing. Your bestfriend being the most trusted person on earth— to nothing.

"What's going on?" Jongho feels like it's such a stupid question, but he isn't sure how to break the silence right now and he needs to. He watches San sink into the couch and just let out a sigh, and it's clear he's about to release everything he's been holding in. "What happened?" Jongho repeats in a different form.

"Where the fuck did I go wrong?" Jongho sees his bottom lip trembling before he buries his head into his hands and starts sobbing. It breaks his heart to see his bestfriend like this; he wishes he could tell him everything will be okay because he knows it will, even though it feels like miles away right now. He wishes that'll be enough. He wishes he could just take the pain away and shove it somewhere else. Because someone like San, someone who loves hard and deep, someone who is loyal until the very end, doesn't deserve this.

"You didn't go wrong anywhere. It was never you, San."

"Why would they do this to me? Why didn't she just talk to m-me about everything? How could she do that so easily?" He continues to mumble as he cries, Jongho rubbing a hand down his back. He truly hates this. He has never seen San so defeated.

Destroyed.

"Because they're both immature and didn't care. I know this is a lot easier said than done but this isn't worth it. You don't need her. You don't need him. They don't deserve you and you'll find someone who'll truly love you for you and who wouldn't even dare do this to you. I'm sorry it had to happen to you, but I promise you'll find someone better. Worth everything. Let yourself feel this out and process it, but once you do, brush it off and continue to move on." San doesn't say anything because Jongho is right; he still needs to process this, and he still needs to feel this out in order to properly move on. 

"Jongho, I don't even know how I'll make it past this. I really don't know how I can."

"You will. Give yourself some time, but in the end, you'll come out stronger and you'll realize why all of this was never meant for you in the first place. There's always a reason, one being that something way better is in the works." San doesn't say anything, but he continues to cry. He continues to wallow in his sadness, what's left of his heart crumbling to pieces and shattering. He knows this is only temporary— but that light, the 'better' that Jongho speaks of, seemed so, so far away.

Unreachable.

—END

San shakes off the thoughts and continues to power through his work, getting through other emails and lab financials he needs to sort through. He's also skimming over his class schedule and hopping into a quick kick-off call with his TAs and lecturers this quarter. 

Sooner or later, time flies on by and he's wrapping things up, getting ready to meet with Zara. He realizes he didn't give her any details on how to get to his office, so he grabs his phone and heads upstairs to wait for her. 

"Hi!" She rushes in, heels clicking against the floor. "Sorry, I'm running a few minutes late." San chuckles and shakes his head.

"No, don't even worry about it. I, uh.. just realized I never gave you proper directions to my office and the lab." San digs his hands into his pockets and presses the button to the elevator. "How was the rest of your day?"

"Good, busy. Just feels like it's nonstop." She giggles, stepping in next to him but with some distance. 

"Mm, yeah. I get that feeling all too well." He laughs. "But, it'll settle in due time." Luckily, the elevator ride isn't too awkward and it's quick— prompting San to step out and lead her down the basement hallway. "I can show you around the lab."

"Do you still have lab members lingering around?"

"Oh, always. They're always holed up in a behavior room or doing surgeries. Some of them really just prefer to work late nights so they don't have to share the space and equipment with anybody."

"Makes sense." She smiles up at him and he nods. He continues to show her around, taking her room by room; allowing her to see his wetbench lab space, his behavior rooms, laser rooms and the mice. She's impressed by how tidy and kept together the lab is despite so many people running around and being together in one space. It's bound to get messy and chaotic, and it does, sometimes. He explains that he tries really hard to keep his space clean and organized, emphasizing it to his lab members so much that they do actually listen especially when it's time for them to go and start their own careers. He's never had a problem with anyone leaving mess behind. He always tells people it's a space for another person to grow and they take that to heart. It's the least they could do after San has been nothing but supportive of them during their time in the lab.

Afterwards, he takes her into his office and she compliments him on all his awards. He rubs at his chin to brush off the heat rising to his cheeks, sitting onto computer chair to talk to her a little more about her plans. She even turns to him for advice about how to keep things steady once they get going, how to tour the labs with donors properly, how to successfully snag grants and funding for the future. The conversation turns out to be a long, productive one, even though San doesn't feel like he's qualified enough to give great advice. Yes, he's done most of it on his own but a lot of it was through Namjoon's guidance. He does slip that in there, giving her a nudge to talk to him a bit further about the perfect grants to go for at this stage, things to do to keep recruiting great postdocs and lab students, funding in the meantime. She appreciates all the guidance and help— so much that the conversation continues even as San packs up and heads out of the office with her.

He does enjoy their conversation, but he definitely could tell you he wouldn't take this anywhere even if his friends tried to push him into doing so. He respects her, he respects her work and he respects her as a colleague.

"Look, look, look!" Eunchae grabs your arm and pulls you aside. She stops in her tracks and nods towards the other side of the street, spotting San speaking to Zara. "He's talking to the new applied physics professor. Professor Cho or something."

"I heard a bit about her work. She's really smart."

"And pretty." You nod in agreement. "He's legit walking her to her car and everything. What if they're into each other already?! Or, do you think it's a tap and dash thing? Do you think Professor Choi is an undercover hoe?"

"Girl?" You look at her questioningly. "What do I do with you?" You laugh and playfully nudge her. "Professor Choi is probably just trying to be a good colleague to her."

"Yeah, okay. She's definitely interested, though. Look at the way she looks up at him. I mean, who wouldn't be?"

"Definitely can't get anything by you, can I?"

"Nope. I'm excited for your rotation with him."

"Excited for the wrong reasons." You playfully run a hand down her hair. "Get out of your head, missy." She snorts.

"I can only dream and live through you." You laugh and link your arm with hers, carrying onto the gym. Meanwhile, Zara finds her way to her car with San in tow.

"Well, it was great talking to you, San." San smiles and nods, watching as Zara gets into her car in one of the smaller lots near the Harvey Center. "Thanks for showing me around your lab and for all your advice."

"Yeah, of course. Let me know if you need anything else. Happy to help. Maybe I can swing by once your lab is settled and kicking off." She nods. "But, definitely try to catch Namjoon and get that old man's wisdom." She laughs.

"Of course. Will do. Have a good rest of your evening." He gently taps the hood of her car before giving her a small nod.

"You as well, drive safely." He waits until she gets settled in her car and drives off before slowly walking over to his car in the usual lot he parks at. He catches sight of you and Eunchae walking towards the gym, your laughs echoing as you seem to be joking around, playfully pushing each other and in good spirits. Hearing your laugh brings a small smile to his face, remembering the events earlier today.

He can't help but be a little flattered, even a little curious as to what exactly you think about him.

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world

[radiant-reid]

A blurb on spencer with the audio thats like “I always thought you were the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen” and it’s to reader? :))

love this !! and i don't care if it's such a cliche image, I'm not going to stop

Spencer jumps when you slide the balcony door open. Even with the serial killer caught, you're all still on edge, chilly in the Alaskan spring.

"Sorry, I hope you don't mind me interrupting." You step forward and close the door to stop any heat from the fire escaping inside.

"Not at all," Spencer assures you, smiling softly to encourage you forward.

You stand next to him, looking out over at the hill and evergreen trees, everything with a fresh dumping of snow on it. The sun's just setting even though it's not too far into the afternoon, the sky beginning to turn soft pink and orange.

"Things were getting a bit tense inside." You laugh at the very recent memory of some passionate arguing.

"Prentiss and Morgan?" Spencer guesses. You confirm with a nod. "Hotch should add Uno to the list of banned games."

You laugh at the rare joke from him. "We're not going to have anything left now that Monopoly, Clue, and all card games are banned."

"We'll have to all play chess." He decides, matching his enthusiasm with a grin.

"Then you'll have to sit out so it's fair." You remind him with a smirk.

He pouts at that, not the answer he was after. A comfortable silence falls between you as you watch the sky changing colors. It's really like nothing you've seen before, and it's a nice reminder that there's still beauty in the world.

"It's just wow." You say softly, in awe.

"The stars will be out soon," Spencer notes. "They should be incredible. It's meant to be clear and there's no light pollution here like there is in DC."

"You looked it up?" You wonder. It's sweet, really, and his interest seems to go beyond adding to his vast general knowledge.

He turns to you to nod. "I'm going to come out after dinner to watch them. I've never seen anything like this in the cities I've lived in, and we don't get many cases in such beautiful, remote places."

You hum with your own nod. "You're right. Or..." Your curiosity doesn't allow you to resist the opportunity to segue the conversation. "Many beautiful people, like the deputy that's into you."

You're trying to disguise it as teasing him, at least then you can play it off as being teammates and friends, and you're desperately hoping he doesn't notice that you're tense about his answer.

His nose scrunches slightly. Maybe disgust, maybe excitement. "I wasn't looking."

"Not your type?" You ask, slightly alarmed again. You do share some similar traits with her, so if she's not his type, your chances are slimmer.

"I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen." He says sincerely, knocking the wind out of your chest. "So, no, Y/n, I'm not looking at anyone."

You take longer than you should to get over your shock. "You're serious?"

"Sorry, sorry." He quickly apologizes as his cheeks heat up more than can be accounted for by the cold weather. "That was weird. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No." You rest your hand over his, hoping to calm his spiraling worry. "You didn't... just thank you. That's... the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

"It's true." He reiterates.

Your smile deepens. "Can I come stargazing with you?" You ask. "I promise I won't distract you."

"Looking like that? Impossible." He jokes, flirtier than you imagine. It's like your reciprocation spurs him on. "But I'd love company... your company, specifically. Inviting someone else would be weird."

You chuckle. "Just me and you."

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

A/N: Welcome to my descent into brain rot! What started as a simple “What if?” has spiraled into something much deeper. If you love dark romance, eldritch horror, and toxic men struggling with redemption, you’re in the right place. And if you’ve ever thought, “Wow, Haibara would be terrifying if he came back wrong,” get ready to see that idea come to life. This chapter is not soft; it’s filled with horror, angst, and moral ambiguity. Most importantly, it’s a cautionary tale about the dangers of ignoring your wife for months while the world turns against her. While this is a Gojo/Nanami redemption story, be prepared to suffer first. And yes, Megumi and Haibara are moving in—not because you asked, but because they insisted. If you were on the fence about loving Haibara before, congratulations—you now have brain rot. Enjoy the chaos!

Previous Chapter 13(alt ending 2.4) - Burn the Mother of Three (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 14 (alt ending 2.5) - He's Eldritch

The hands came again, grabbing at your arms, your legs, your coat—until suddenly, they stopped.

A deafening crack split the air, sharp and unnatural, like a whip snapping against the fabric of reality itself.

The ground trembled beneath you.

Then came the light.

It wasn’t blinding—it was cold and clinical, casting long, jagged shadows as a faint shimmer rippled outward from where you lay.

The hands recoiled as if burned, the mob stumbling back in confusion.

Blood sprayed into the air, deep cuts appearing on the skin of those closest to you. Cries of pain and fear erupted as they clutched their wounds, their bravado dissolving into confusion.

And then he appeared.

Nanami stood between you and the crowd, ratio blades shimmering aggressively around him like a celestial executioner’s halo. They hovered, impossibly precise, cutting the air around him with a quiet hum that promised suffering. His face was carved from stone, his expression colder than the grave.

He didn’t look human. He looked like death.

The mob froze. Their rage faltered under the weight of his presence.

Someone opened their mouth to speak, but their words withered and died when Gojo’s sharp, cerulean eyes locked onto them.

He stepped through the stunned onlookers like a storm personified, his hoodie sleeves rolled up, his knuckles already bloodied. The air around him crackled with raw power.

“Touch her again,” Gojo said, his voice a challenge. “I dare you.”

The crowd shifted uneasily, their earlier confidence unraveling into fear.

Nanami didn’t speak.

He raised a hand.

Gojo crouched beside you, his presence both terrifying and tender. With careful grace, he slid his arms beneath you, lifting you effortlessly as if you were a precious enigma he couldn’t bear to lose. You clung to his hoodie, seeking refuge in his warmth, your breath still shaky. The raccoon kit nestled in your coat let out a tiny squeak, burrowing deeper into the folds of fabric, but all you could focus on was the way Gojo’s intense gaze locked onto yours, six eyes checking your wounds, his jaw tight.

The air around Nanami crackled violently as he released his technique that was already dying to end the existence of the critines who'd dared to touch you. The ground beneath him began to tremble, a low rumble that quickly escalated into a violent quake.

As the earth shook, cracks spiderwebbed across the pavement, sending debris flying and causing people to stumble back in shock. The once-stable ground transformed into a breaking landscape, a physical manifestation of his rage—to protect you. Dust swirled around him, and the air was thick with the scent of fear and adrenaline.

Then, with a thunderous roar that echoed through the night, the ground split apart, creating a massive crater the size of a building where the mob had once stood. The earth convulsed violently, sending shockwaves rippling outward as dust and debris filled the air, obscuring. Screams pierced the darkness, a cacophony of terror as some were swallowed whole by the gaping chasm, while others scrambled for safety, desperately clinging to pipes and broken pavement like cockroaches scurrying from a light.

Nanami stood resolute above the scattered remnants of the mob. His technique had transformed the ground into a treacherous pit, a potent warning to anyone who dared to threaten what was his. The ratio blades hovered around him, shimmering with a deadly promise like silent sentinels ready to assail.

His gaze swept over the cowering figures with a wave of disgust. They were nothing but a pack of wolves, emboldened by their numbers, but now they were reduced to trembling shadows of rats. The fear in their eyes only fueled his resolve.

Every breath he took was heavy with the weight of his emotions—anger, protectiveness, and an unwavering determination to shield you from harm. He could feel your presence behind him in Gojo’s arms—the love he fought for—and it kept him from snapping amidst the turmoil. In that moment, he was not just a man; he was a guardian willing to hollow the earth to keep you safe.

“Will you go after them?” Gojo asked, his tone light but laced with menace. “Or should we make a hunt out of it?”

“Later,” Nanami said, his voice low and deadly. “Once she’s safe.”

You barely registered their words. The world around you felt distant and surreal. Your mind was a tangle of fear, humiliation, and disbelief. You weren’t crying. You weren’t even breathing properly.

“You’re safe now,” Gojo said softly, his voice grounding.

Nanami walked to you, his hand hovering uncertainly before settling on your shoulder. His touch was firm but gentle, an anchor in the storm. “No one will hurt you again,” he said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

But his words didn’t penetrate the haze.

“I… told… you,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “They won’t… let me live…. They… won’t let… me…the babies… live, Ken.” You kept repeating it like a broken mantra, lost in the haze.

Your body trembled violently, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Breathe,” Gojo said, his tone calm but insistent. “Baby, you need to breathe.”

“I told... you,” you repeated, your voice rising into a choked, hysterical sob, but no tears came. “They’ll… kill us.”

Nanami rubbed your shoulders comfortingly. “You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice a steady hum against your panic. “We’re here. You’re safe.”

But you couldn’t hear him. The fear, the disgrace, the raw disgust—it all came crashing down, suffocating you.

You were shaking so hard it felt like your body might tear itself apart, your mind unraveling under the weight of what had just happened.

The raccoon kit nestled closer against your chest, its tiny warm purring the only thing tethering you to reality. You could feel its heart beating.

The remaining mob had scattered, their courage shattered by the sheer force of the destruction left in Nanami and Gojo’s wake. But their hateful words still echoed in your mind, corrosive and relentless.

The sound of Maserati M20 filled the air, and moments later, Megumi and Haibara rushed onto the area, flanked by armed guards in gear.

Megumi’s lightning eyes swept over the scene—the crater, the bloodied pavement, the faint scorch marks on the ground. His gaze landed on you, cradled in Gojo’s arms.

“What the hell were you thinking? Leaving without security? Do you have any idea—” Megumi snapped, striding toward you. His voice was curt, laced with anger, but his steps faltered as he took in your state—your coat torn and stained, face colorless, tear-streaked, hollow, and a canvas of bruises.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

Your defenses crumbled. Without thinking, you got down from Gojo’s arms and reached for him, clinging to his sweater.

“They’ll… wanted kill m..e,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, trembling. “The..y hate… me so… much... Maybe… they’re ri…ght. Maybe I’m unnatural... Maybe…I..  I shoul…dn’t exist.”

Megumi stiffened, his arms tightening around you. “No,” he said firmly.

“I thought… I was doing the…. right thing, b..ut I wasn’t… I froze… I just… wanted KitKats… the twins… are they alive…?” Your voice cracked, and then the dam broke. Tears streamed down your face, each one carrying the weight of fear, humiliation, and self-loathing.

A sudden kick from within your belly startled you.

They were alive.

But it was so strong against your ribs that your knees buckled, though Megumi didn’t let you fall, and neither did Gojo who you just realized was still holding you. The sensation was visceral; it felt wrong—unnatural.

You could almost hear the whispers of something lurking beneath the surface—dark energies that pulsed in time with the kicks. It was as if the very essence of what you carried was fighting to break free, clawing at your insides, demanding to be acknowledged.

You could sense the weight of everyone’s gaze, as if the walls themselves were watching, waiting for the moment when you would no longer be able to contain what was within.

“Are you okay?” Megumi’s voice broke through the haze, but it felt distant, muffled by the pounding in your chest.

You nodded, though uncertainty gnawed at you. The lives inside were a paradox—both a miracle and a horror, a symbol of the fragility of existence. 

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, as if something was about to unravel.

Gojo’s grip tightened, grounding you, but the unease lingered. You were not just carrying twins; you were harboring something that felt alive in a way that transcended any ordinary pregnancy, something that could change everything.

And as another kick reverberated through you, a chill ran down your spine. You couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was growing inside was not just a part of you or their fathers—whichever one it was, though you guessed probably Gojo because of all the sweets you craved. No, this was something entirely else. It was a force of its own, pulsating with a dark energy.

It was hungry.

The sensation was unsettling, a primal instinct clawing at your insides as if it were reaching out, yearning for something beyond mere sustenance. Each kick felt like a warning, not just a blessing but a harbinger of something more sinister. You could almost hear its whispers, echoing in the recesses of your mind, promising power and chaos.

Sensing their cursed energy still strong, although rattled, Megumi spoke. “They’re okay,” his voice more softer now, almost a whisper. “You’re okay.”

Haibara stood nearby, his hands clenched into fists. He didn’t look up at Gojo and Nanami but spoke to them, his expression unreadable. “We’ll handle the fallout,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with steel. “No one’s touching her again.”

“I just… want…ed some… KitK..ats,” you mumbled, your voice cracking.

“And you got them?” Haibara said softly.

You looked at the crater where your bag of chocolates had probably disappeared too, forever lost.

Haibara’s voice was uncharacteristically serious when he spoke, “Next time, tell us. We’ll clear the store for you.”

“I’ll get more delivered at home. As many as you want.” Gojo breathed.

You nodded to them both, too exhausted to keep up pretenses when your ribs felt like they’d tear themselves apart from either the punishing baby kicks or the panic attack that didn’t seem to let you breathe anytime soon.

The raccoon kit stirred, poking its tiny head out from the folds of your coat. Haibara’s eyes narrowed slightly, curiosity mingling with concern. He reached out, brushing a finger over its soft fur. “Who’s this little guy?” he asked lightly, his voice a gentle balm against the rising tension.

Your voice trembled, barely above a whisper. “I… I found… it. I couldn’t leave it.” The weight of your words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken fears. The innocent baby could have died with you moments ago.

Haibara’s gaze softened, understanding flickering in his eyes. “Of course you couldn’t.”

Another kick shot up inside you, and you slumped against Gojo’s chest, one hand clutching his arm while the other instinctively rubbed soothing circles over your stomach.

Nanami’s voice cut through the moment, clipped but urgent. “We need to get her to Shoko,” he insisted.

“That generic medic NPC?” Haibara replied, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words. He wasn’t trying to undermine the gravity of the situation; he just wanted to keep you grounded enough to prevent the shock from overwhelming you.

Nanami hesitated, his brow furrowing as he weighed his words. “She’s… specialized. A sorcerer doctor. She’s not a gynecologist, but she’s the closest we have right now who can handle something like this.”

Haibara smirked faintly, though the humor didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course, you have a witch doctor on speed dial. Where is she?”

Nanami gestured toward Gojo, whose expression darkened as he stared at the redness blooming on your cheek. The sting of the slap had grown angrier, a harsh contrast to your normal complexion.

“I’ll teleport us there. Nanami, hold her,” Gojo said—an instruction wrapped in urgency.

Nanami shifted, pulling you against him. His arms, solid and unmoving, encased you like a shield. The sharp line of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against your back—his rage was a living thing, barely leashed.

“Don’t pick me up.” Your voice barely rose above a whisper as you gripped his arm, your other hand pressing against the dull throb in your stomach. “Just hold me.”

He obeyed, pressing you closer, his warmth seeping into your bones. His thumb traced slow circles against your spine, grounding you.

“I’ll come, too,” Haibara announced, forcing lightness into the thick, oppressive air. “Megumi, you in? In case the doctor needs moral support?”

Megumi didn’t glance up. “Hmm.” His voice held no inflection, but his eyes, flat and cold, followed the guards as they disappeared into the dark. The lynch mob had minutes left of freedom. Maybe less.

Gojo nodded, crouching as he carved sigils into the bloodstained earth, his movements methodical. The air around him buzzed with restrained power.

Haibara leaned next to you, his hands careful as he wiped the sweat from your brow. “So.” His voice was too casual, the humor a flimsy barrier against something rawer. “Tell me about the raccoon.”

You blinked, thrown. “I… I found it. In that alley. It was alone. Scared. Its mom was dead. It had… plastic stuck to its neck, couldn’t breathe… I couldn’t leave it.”

Haibara studied you, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly nodded. “Brave little guy. Must’ve been terrifying, not knowing if you’d give it rabies.”

You frowned at Haibara in annoyance, then looked down at the kit, its tiny form curled against your chest.

You felt a flicker of something other than fear.

Care.

“Don’t talk much, just breathe,” Gojo said softly, standing up and glancing back at you. “You’re safe now. We’ll take you to the doctor.”

Nanami’s hands gripped you tighter, his knuckles white. “She’s nice; you’ll like her.”

Well, beggers couldn't be choosers anyway, and your body hurt really bad.

The moment Gojo clapped his hands, you turned into Nanami’s chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You’d either throw up or pass out if you watched. Maybe both.

Then, disorientation.

The world twisted, and when you opened your eyes, you were inside a dimly lit infirmary.

A woman in a lab coat slept in the corner on a chair, slumped against a stretcher.

Next to her—a whole-ass dead body.

You jerked back into Nanami, your breath hitching. Haibara and Megumi clutched their stomachs, nearly buckling—not from the corpse, but from Gojo’s warped teleportation.

Gojo rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepish grin. “Nanamin, do your thing.”

Nanami glared. “What?”

“I got us here fast. Now you wake her up.”

“And why won’t you?” Nanami’s arms tightened around you.

Gojo scoffed. “Did you forget she tried to prescribe me cyanide two days ago?”

Nanami exhaled sharply, patience thinning. “Be brave for your wife.”

“Oh, now she’s MY wife?!” Gojo replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I killed people to keep her safe,” Nanami muttered, like this was a contest.

Gojo smirked. “Then why are you scared?”

Nanami didn’t want to wake her up. But for you, he would. Just as he was about to speak, Haibara—who’d recovered by now—loudly cleared his throat.

No reaction.

Megumi, also recovered, poked her with a newspaper.

She merely snorted and adjusted herself in her sleep.

Gojo sidled up beside her, mouthing amateurs at Haibara and Megumi, who looked ready to exterminate him. Then, without hesitation, he bent down and blew a loud raspberry into Shoko’s ear.

She woke up slowly, then turned even slower. Expression flat.

Gojo barely had time to put up Infinity before she lunged, scalpel in hand, aiming straight for his six eyes.

You cleared your throat, trying not to look at the body, before she had the chance to make you half a widow today. “Um. Excuse me?”

She froze and blinked like she was just realizing you were there. Then, rubbing her eyes, she took you in—messy, bruised, barely standing.

“The hell happened?” She asked, already moving toward you.

Nanami answered. “There was a physical altercation with a lynch mob. Could’ve been worse, Shoko.”

Shoko nodded, gesturing for you to follow her into the next room. Disinfecting, she put on gloves. “Take off your coat and sit on that stretcher.”

She had wanted to kick everyone out, but remembering the last time, she didn’t.

You obeyed, and Megumi stepped forward, taking the raccoon kit from your arms. Shoko finally noticed him and Haibara—then stopped cold. 

Haibara wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at your stomach.

Not like a healer. Not like a friend. Like he wasn’t even in the room anymore. Like he was miles away, hands clenched, jaw locked, contemplating something.

Shoko opened her mouth to say something to him—then caught Nanami’s warning look. A slow, deliberate slicing motion against his palm, unseen by Haibara.

She said nothing. For now, you were the priority.

She exhaled as she peeled back the layers of fabric, exposing the deep blue and purple bruises blotting your skin like ink spreading through water. Some were already darkening, blood pooling beneath the surface, tissue crushed by blunt force trauma. Others were fresh—raw red, still swelling, still screaming.

“How long ago?” she asked.

“Ten minutes,” the room echoed, all voices perfectly in sync. Almost rehearsed.

You ignored it.

Your gaze flickered over Shoko, guarded. You didn’t trust her, not fully, but she didn’t flinch at your husbands. That was worth something, and you didn’t have the luxury of choosing who helped you right now.

Shoko ran her fingers near your ribs—not touching, just observing the way your body tensed, the sharp catch in your breath. "I need to run some tests. Can I sedate you?"

You froze. The word made your pulse stutter. You looked between Nanami and Gojo, then Megumi and Haibara. Your throat felt tight.

Nanami moved to pat your shoulder, firm but reassuring. "It's fine. She won't hurt you. Or them." He added the last bit uncomfortably.

Megumi met your eyes, something breaking in his expression. His nod was almost imperceptible. Haibara, standing just behind him, had that same unreadable stare. They won’t let anything happen to you.

You exhaled shakily. “Okay.”

"You'll wake up in about thirty minutes if everything's fine." Shoko's voice was steady, clinical.

"I'm thirsty," you murmured. "Can I have water before?"

"Not before the test," she replied. "Messes with the results. I’ll give you something after."

Her expression didn’t change, but there was something close to amusement in her eyes. You didn’t know why. You didn’t have the energy to care.

She helped you lay down. The cold prick of the anesthetic needle slid into your vein, sharp for only a second before the numbness spread. The world tilted. You barely made it to count three before everything went black.

//

Then, the air snapped.

A pressure crushed the room, oppressive. The walls groaned. Instruments rattled.

Shoko sighed. “Not again.”

Too many massive Ratio blades hovered an inch from Nanami’s face and neck, vibrating in place, waiting to carve. Gojo’s Infinity wasn’t holding—it was folding, pressing in on itself so tightly that his breath came sharp and uneven, like his own technique was suffocating him.

“What?” Megumi barked, stepping forward instinctively as the raccoon kit let out tiny squeels.

Shoko barely glanced at Gojo. “Do you have chocolate? Something sweet?”

Gojo fumbled in his hoodie, smearing more blood from his knuckles over it, his fingers searching through the depths. He finally pulled out a random toffee and handed it to her without hesitation, still trying to not suffocate.

Shoko snatched the candy from his hand and frowned when she read the label. “Chocolate, you idiot.”

She began rummaging through his hoodie pockets herself and found one that was chocolate.

Then unwrapping it, pried your lips apart, and slid it to the side of your mouth, careful not to choke you. The sugar would dissolve on your tongue and hit your bloodstream in minutes.

“The hell is going on?” Megumi yelled again, more demanding.

Shoko popped her neck. “The fetuses. They’re very murderous.”

Haibara finally spoke. “Is she okay?”

Shoko stilled.

The voice that was supposed to be dead. The voice she had stopped expecting to hear years ago.

Then she inhaled. “Look at her wounds.”

The bruises, the abrasions—the places where your skin had been battered and broken—they were healing. Rapidly. Veins shifted beneath the surface, knitting themselves back together.

Gojo breathed, his blued face returning to its normal color as infinity stopped suffocating him. Nanami exhaled slowly, staring down at the blades dissolving near his skin. "They protected her before. Why not today?"

Shoko observed you, thinking aloud. “I think it’s her mind. As long as she’s conscious, they don’t have control. But when she’s passed the fuck out—” She gestured vaguely at the disaster unfolding around them.

Megumi’s fists clenched. His nails dug into his palms, but he barely felt it.

Haibara wasn’t looking at you anymore. His stare was fixed on Nanami and Gojo.

The silence was suffocating.

Shoko broke it first. “I should get a fetal monitor.”

No one stopped her.

“So that means they only hate you two!” Haibara laughed out of nowhere.

Realization dawned, and Megumi smirked.

Nanami sighed, and Gojo scowled.

Shoko prepped the monitor in silence, her movements careful. She worked quickly, careful not to expose too much of your bruised body under the harsh fluorescent light or not to accidentally flash your body. The four men in the room, dangerous and desperate in their own ways, hovered too close. Overbearing. Watchful.

The moment the heartbeat filled the silence—fast, strong, unnatural.

No one spoke.

It was steady. No, they were steady. The rhythm was almost too perfect, like something engineered, something other.

Shoko adjusted the probe, eyes scanning the screen, her lips pressing into a thin line as she made her observations. “They’re doing well. It seems we don’t need to have that abortion we talked about.”

Silence.

Then, realization hit her for what she’d just said out loud.

Shoko’s mouth parted slightly, breath-catching as the weight of her words sank in. She turned too late.

Haibara moved first. He tackled Nanami in a throat lock so fast and vicious it sent them both crashing into the cabinets. Instruments clattered to the ground, glass shattering.

Megumi wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand—his own, or Gojo’s, it didn’t matter—before lunging again. Gojo barely dodged the hit, then Megumi’s fist grazed his jaw. Luckily, he’d placed the raccoon kit on a table nearby before.

“How dare you?” Megumi snarled, circling Gojo.

“This is your last day,” Haibara growled, his eyes alight with something close to murder as Nanami wrenched free and drove a fist into his ribs, loosening his grip.

“We don’t want to hurt you.” Nanami slammed Haibara down, pinning him to the ground with his full weight. “Listen to me.”

Megumi didn’t stop. “Did she know? Did she agree?”

Gojo wiped his chin, spitting blood to the side. “She didn’t know,” he admitted. “We didn’t get a chance because you both kept dragging her away—”

“You didn’t get a chance?” Haibara barked out a laugh, something unhinged. His voice dipped—darker, lethal. “Or you didn’t want her to know?” He shifted his weight, trying to break free. “Because if she knew, she would’ve despised you two more than she already does.”

Gojo’s expression flickered. He knew it was true.

Megumi wasn’t done. “And you wonder why they hate you.”

Shoko had enough.

“Stop fucking fighting,” she snapped.

No one listened.

Until the air shifted.

Five Ratio blades hovered right beside her head, sharp, waiting. They weren’t hers. They weren’t Nanami’s.

Shoko exhaled. “I will personally let the murder spawn handle this if you four don’t get your shit together.”

All four men turned at once, barely suppressing a shudder.

The blades didn’t move. They waited.

Megumi let go first.

Nanami, still straddling Haibara, exhaled sharply before shoving off.

Gojo rolled his shoulders back, wiping his split lip, but he didn’t say a word.

Then Shoko sighed. “They’re fine now. Whatever it was, it fixed itself.” She hesitated. “Only the tentacles remain.”

That got a reaction.

Gojo exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit.”

Nanami didn’t curse, but the way his fingers pressed into his temples spoke volumes. He was barely holding it together.

Megumi ran a hand through his hair, his brow furrowing. “What?” His voice was tight, but he wasn’t looking at Gojo or Nanami—he was looking at the monitor, at them.

Haibara just stared.

Shoko crossed her arms. “Yeah, they’re supernatural anomalies. Nothing in medical science accounts for this kind of regeneration, let alone the... extras.” She exhaled through her nose. “We’ll monitor it. If things stay stable, it should be fine. But she needs to stay completely stress-free in the meantime.”

No one responded.

She rolled her eyes. “That means no media, no public spaces, no unnecessary outside contact. Not after what happened today.”

They nodded in agreement, grim-faced.

“And,” she continued, more pointedly this time, “there is zero reason to tell her about the... other discussion.”

Gojo and Nanami both stiffened, then Gojo responded. “We weren’t going to.”

Haibara scoffed. “Of course you weren’t.”

Shoko ignored them. “I’ll still track down that midwife, just in case.”

Silence stretched for a moment.

Then—behind her—you stirred.

Your breath hitched as consciousness settled back into your bones. Your body should have been aching, bruised, screaming in pain. But when you blinked blearily, everything felt… fine. You looked down.

No bruises. No pain.

You swallowed, voice hoarse. “Is it done?”

Shoko studied you for a beat before tapping your forehead lightly. “Yeah. But we need to talk.”

Before you could respond, the steady thump-thump of the fetal monitor filled the room. Your head turned instinctively toward the screen, heartbeats pounding in sync—too fast, too strong.

You stared, captivated.

Megumi’s phone buzzed. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, then slid it away. He exchanged a look with Haibara.

Your gaze flickered between them. “You both can go. I feel a lot better.” You gestured vaguely to yourself, still half-dazed. Maybe this was Shoko’s technique, you thought to yourself.

“No.” Megumi’s voice came, flat.

You frowned. “I’m fine. Go. You can check on me tomorrow.”

Haibara smirked. “I’ll stay.”

You narrowed your eyes. “No, you won’t.”

Haibara sighed, exasperated, but before he could argue, Megumi stepped in. “I’ll take the raccoon kit. Get it vaccinated. You need to rest tonight.”

You blinked. That… was actually helpful.

Then, without another word, he grabbed Haibara by the collar and dragged him out.

Shoko barely waited for the door to shut before she turned to the remaining men. “Out.”

Nanami sighed but didn’t argue. Gojo muttered something under his breath but followed him out.

Finally, Shoko turned back to you.

“You’re under a lot of stress.” Shoko handed you a glass of water and helped you sit up.

You gulped it down, sighing as the cool liquid soothed your dry throat.

“I’d have never come back if I were you,” she said bluntly, watching you. “But I get it. You didn’t have a say, did you.”

You sighed again, heavier this time.

“They’ve always been too stubborn,” Shoko continued, stretching her neck like the mere thought of Gojo and Nanami exhausted her. “Gojo? Expected. Man’s got a single brain cell, and it just says bonk first, ask questions later. But Nanami?” She shook her head. “Extreamly weird.”

You blinked. “You work together, I presume?”

“Yeah. We were even students here at Jujutsu High together.”

Realization dawned on you. “Ah.”

You opened your mouth to introduce yourself properly, but Shoko waved you off. “I already know. I was the one who ran your tests before. Also beat their asses a little on your behalf.”

Your lips twitched. “Are you stronger than them?”

“Nah.” She smirked. “I just don’t tolerate their bullshit.”

You didn’t quite understand what she meant, but you smiled anyway.

Shoko tilted her head at you. “But back to the main question—why the hell aren’t you on maternity leave yet?”

“Too much shit has happened,” you admitted. “If I leave now, I might lose my position.”

She hummed in thought. “And those two?” She gestured vaguely. “Your friends. I presume they can’t handle it?”

“Megumi could if I guided him, but he has his own company to look after, and besides, this isn’t his industry. But Haibara?” You exhaled sharply. “He’s never worked for corporate. And he’s also... a menace.”

Shoko snorted. “Then cut back your days. Let Megumi and your fellow C-suites handle things for a few months. The stress is not good for the babies.”

You nodded slowly. “I’ll see what I can delegate and what I can fix fast so I can take time off.”

“Glad you understand.” She stretched her arms over her head. “Oh, and before I forget—what happened to Haibara?”

You froze, confused.

Shoko caught it immediately. “He used to go here. He was in Nanami’s class—mine and Gojo’s junior. Nanami only tolerated him out of all of us. Then he left Jujutsu sorcery for a long while when Haibara died.”

Your stomach twisted. “...What?”

Shoko frowned. “He was dead. At least, that’s what we were told.”

Your mouth was dry again, despite the water. “He just... showed up one day. Injured. No memory.” You exhaled, shaking your head. “And as far as we know, he doesn’t care to remember.”

Shoko went quiet, unreadable. Then, finally—

“Alright.” She continued to stretch her arms behind her back, rolling her shoulders. “If he doesn’t want to know, I won’t bring it up. Thanks for the heads up.”

Relief sagged in your posture.

Shoko grabbed her prescription from the table. “I’ll bring a spare hoodie. Your coat’s trashed.”

You smiled genuinely. “Thanks.”

She waved it off. “Don’t get soft on me now.” Then she left.

//

Shoko barely waited for the door to shut before she spun on her heel and gestured sharply for Gojo and Nanami to follow her.

They obeyed, trailing after her.

The moment they were out of earshot, she turned and spoke so fast they almost missed it.

“Listen. I’m doing you both a final favor. Again. I just told her to take maternity leave early because this stress is destroying her.”

Gojo opened his mouth to question—

She raised a single finger.

He shut up.

“How do you idiots not realize it? Those two—her friends—are in love with her. And if you don’t fix this, Haibara will replace you.”

Nanami flinched. Gojo actually stopped breathing for a second.

“No shame,” Shoko added, stone-faced. “He’ll do it happily. He's not the Haibara who roamed around us like a dumb little sunflower. He fits the profile of a sociopath now.”

The color drained from Nanami’s face.

Gojo exhaled slowly. “She wouldn’t—”

Shoko cut him off with a deadpan stare. “She can. She will. And if you don’t get your shit together, she might not even let you see the kids legally.”

Gojo paled. “She can’t do that.”

“System favors the mother, and she wouldn’t even need to try. With her financial resources, getting custody would be a breeze for her. You can’t win this, particularly not after the whole terrorist fiasco,” Shoko pointed out.

Both men looked at each other, the same thought hitting them at the same time.

Shoko grinned. “Oh, now you’re worried?”

Gojo turned to Nanami. “We should—”

“No,” Nanami muttered.

Gojo frowned. “What do you mean, no? We should do something.”

Nanami exhaled sharply. “I mean, no, we should not let her know that we’re panicking.”

Shoko crossed her arms. “Great strategy. Just keep gaslighting yourselves.”

Gojo grabbed Nanami’s shoulders. “I will not be replaced by an MI6 dropout with amnesia.”

Nanami stared at him. “That is your takeaway from this?”

Shoko handed them the new prescription. “I’ll send you the divorce papers template soon. Just in case.” Then she walked off, leaving them to bicker.

//

Shoko returned with a sweatshirt and handed it to you.

You pulled it on, feeling the warmth settle over your skin, then hopped off the infirmary table with her help.

She steadied you, then opened the door and yelled down the hall. “Come pick her up, you lazy bastards.”

Nanami and Gojo appeared within seconds, moving in sync.

Shoko helped you outside, slipping a small note into your hoodie pocket as she did.

“For when they inevitably piss you off again,” she murmured.

Before you could reply, Gojo grabbed your wrist.

The next thing you knew, you were home with your husbands.

You sighed, making your way to your room. You quickly shed your clothes and stepped into the shower.

The water was scalding, but you didn’t turn it down. The steam curled around you as you braced your hands against the tiled wall, your breath coming out in slow, controlled exhales.

Three months. Three months of silence. Three months since you had walked out of this house and never looked back. And now you were here—not because you forgave them, not because you wanted to be, but because they had saved you today from a problem they caused.

Your fingers brushed over your stomach, feeling the reassuring presence of your babies. They were still here. Still breathing. Unlike the people who had tried to kill you. The thought didn’t bring relief or satisfaction; it just sat there, heavy and made you feel nothing.

You shut off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around yourself. When you emerged, the room was quiet, except for a small box sitting on the nightstand. You recognized the packaging instantly—KitKats. You stared at it for a moment before picking it up.

There was a note tucked underneath, written in Gojo’s familiar, messy scrawl: "Took a while to track down. (The store owner was mean, but I am stronger.)"

You scoffed, tossing the note aside. There was no outright apology, but you knew what it meant. You weren’t stupid.

You left the chocolates unopened, put on some soft clothes, and walked out. The smell of food hit you before you even reached the kitchen. Nanami was there, wearing a clean sweater with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked up the moment he heard your footsteps. “Come sit,” he said, his voice calm and hopeful.

You hesitated, not because you weren’t hungry, but because this was what they should have been doing all along. Now, when it was too late and the damage had already been done, they were finally doing everything right.

Your stomach growled, loud enough for him to hear. Great.

Nanami took that as agreement and set a bowl down in front of you—warm, familiar, and easy to eat.

You sat, ate, and didn’t speak. Neither did he.

Then, Gojo showed up, freshly showered and wearing a clean Digimon hoodie—the one you’d gifted him a long time ago. He began drying your hair, and you let him do it because the sound of the dryer against your damp strands helped distract you from your thoughts.

Once he was finished, he took his time brushing your hair, being more careful than you’d ever seen him. Normally, he would unintentionally tug at it, but this time, his movements were gentle and deliberate.

When you finished eating, you stood without a word and left, the guest bedroom door clicking shut behind you.

You took some pregnancy-safe sleeping medication and got under the covers. It wasn’t what you would have done, but it was necessary to escape the nightmares. And before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

You found yourself alone in a narrow street that stretched on forever under a sickly, jaundiced light. The pavement was slick with something dark and viscous—blood, you realized with dawning horror—as if the ground itself had absorbed the remnants of violence. Every step you took echoed in your ears like a countdown, and behind you, a ragged chorus of angry voices grew louder, closer.

A man’s distorted call broke through the clamor, his voice dripping with vitriol. You turned, but the faces were shrouded in shadow—only the glint of hatred in their eyes was visible.

Their words slurred, vicious accusations that twisted in your mind: you were tainted, a harbinger of chaos, unworthy of the lives you tried so desperately to protect. They hurled insults that felt like physical blows, each syllable striking your already raw flesh.

Before you could move, a rough hand clamped down on your scarf, wrenching it away. The sudden chill of exposed skin and air sent a jolt of terror through you. In that frozen moment, you saw flashes—snatches of faces contorted in fury, phones raised to capture every moment, and a tide of jeers rising like a dark wave. The sound of cracking glass and the shattering of a phone mingled with the screams, forming a discordant symphony of cruelty.

You tried to retreat, your legs uncoordinated under the weight of panic. But the crowd surged forward with the relentless force of a tide. Their shouting transformed into a cacophony of blame and disgust. One voice, feral and unhinged, ordered you to “burn,” while another mocked you for daring to exist. The swarm’s words merged with the sound of fists colliding with flesh. You felt a searing slap across your cheek, a blow that left your vision swimming with hot, red pain.

In the midst of this terror, you clutched your belly, desperate to shield the two tiny hearts pounding in time with your own erratic rhythm. The sensation was both a comfort and a cruel reminder of what was at stake.

Somewhere in the melee, you heard the sickening crunch of bones and the squelching sound of flesh tearing, as if your body was betraying you in slow motion. You tried to scream, but the sound was lost beneath the roar of the mob.

Shadows twisted at the edges of your vision, morphing into monstrous shapes that seemed to leer at your vulnerability. A jagged piece of broken glass skittered across the pavement, slicing through a stray lock of hair and landing like a shard of reality in your dream. You tried to run, but your limbs felt leaden, paralyzed by an unseen force. Every time you lifted a foot, the ground seemed to pull you back, a magnetic grip of despair.

A chilling whisper echoed in your ear, a voice not entirely human, promising pain and isolation. The surrounding figures, their faces a blur of rage and malice, closed in on you. One rough hand grabbed your arm, its grip burning as if ignited by acid, while another ripped at your coat, exposing your bare skin to the elements—and to their relentless abuse. You felt the sting of every lash as if it were etched into your memory, each blow an indelible mark of their collective hatred.

In the climax of this horrific vision, your world collapsed into a maelstrom of sound and fury: a blend of anguished cries, the heavy thud of falling bodies, and the unsettling, almost ritualistic chant of those who had lost their humanity. As you teetered on the brink of collapse, the final image seared itself into your mind—a monstrous silhouette looming over you, its eyes hollow and seemed to assault you, as if to remind you that in this nightmare, mercy was a forgotten word.

And then, as abruptly as it began, the nightmare receded into a void of darkness, leaving you gasping for breath, heart pounding in your ears. The terror lingered—a visceral reminder of the night.

You woke up to warmth—not the comforting kind, but the kind that meant someone was too close. Your eyes cracked open to find Gojo and Nanami on the bed sleeping near you, not touching you, but there—too close. You exhaled through your nose, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over you.

Slowly, carefully, you slipped out of bed, dragging the blanket with you as you padded to the long couch. The second you lay down, exhaustion took over again, and the nightmare came fast—the hate, the shouting, the hands.

You woke up sometime later again, with a deep gasp and realized you weren’t alone. Gojo’s arm was around your stomach, and Nanami’s hand rested against your back, holding you. They had moved to you again. Your body sagged before your mind caught up. For a brief moment, you leaned in, feeling the familiar warmth.

But then you remembered. You stiffened and shoved them off. They woke up startled as you turned your back to them, pulling the blanket over yourself. Silence filled the room, and then Gojo’s voice, still rough with sleep, broke the quiet. “...Yeah. Okay. That’s fair.”

You said nothing. Nanami exhaled quietly, the weight of their presence still heavy in the air. But neither of them tried to touch you again. You closed your eyes, and it took a long time to fall back asleep.

---

On the other side of the city, a dilapidated warehouse loomed over the docks.

Inside, the last of the lynch mob huddled together—along with a handful of online trolls who had thought they were untouchable and a few stubborn business investors who had already been scheduled for execution.

The rusted steel doors creaked open.

Haibara walked in first, flanked by Megumi and their men. “This reminds me of that time,” he mused, stepping over a broken pallet.

Megumi rolled his shoulders, stretching his neck with a slow crack. “The time we wiped out her family?”

Haibara smirked, “Of course, that was the best hunt. How they begged. I still dream of their cries and smile to myself in sleep.”

“It was hard tracking you down back then,” Megumi said, eyes scanning the room. “But I wasn’t about to break our little promise.”

Haibara laughed. “I love how you’re a sentimental murderer.”

Megumi ignored him.

“Although,” Haibara went on, “how’d you get the list? She never used to tell anyone.”

“Dad figured it out long ago.” Megumi’s voice was casual, almost bored. “It was delivered to me when I turned twenty. He had contingencies in case something happened to him. After that, I started my company. And the first thing I did—or more accurately, we did—was eliminate them all.”

Haibara whistled. “Ahh. Ol’ Fushiguro had some sense after all.” He grinned. “Good. Good. I had a lot of fun making that promise with your fourteen-year-old self.”

Megumi tensed.

Haibara mused, unbothered. “You had seen her crying over some bruises to your mom, ran to me, and asked if I’d help you kill them. Not to be mean, but I’m glad Toji was already dead. Otherwise, you would’ve gone to him instead, and that would’ve been boring.” He shrugged off his coat. “You were scary back then, though. Real serial killer child vibes.”

Megumi cracked his knuckles. “Shut up and tell me how we’re doing this.”

“Same as last time.”

Their men nodded and slammed the warehouse doors shut behind them as they walked out, leaving Megumi and Haibara alone with the people. The lock clicked, final. No one was getting out.

Someone whimpered.

"Please... save us,” a man begged, voice raw.

Megumi tilted his head. His smile wasn’t kind. “They want us to save them.” He looked at Haibara. “Should we?”

“PlEAsE sAVe Us!” Haibara mimicked the man’s voice, distorting it with an airy, unnatural lilt. He let out a sharp, delighted laugh, his teeth bared.

A shiver passed through the warehouse.

Megumi sighed, pulling on his gloves. “Keep the exits sealed.”

The emerging shadows obeyed.

The room darkened.

Ink spilled across the concrete floor, creeping up the walls, stretching like living veins. Mahoraga flickered behind Megumi, its eight eyes unblinking. In the distance, something wet and heavy moved. Agito's maw opened with a hollow snap.

Megumi lifted a hand. “Give them a head start.”

Haibara smiled. “How generous.”

Then he twitched.

And the world changed.

It wasn’t an explosion; it wasn’t a shift in gravity. It was subtle—something just slightly… off. A nauseating wrongness slithered under the skin. The air became thick, syrupy, too still. The walls breathed. The shadows didn’t stretch like normal—they lagged, following movement like broken reflections.

Someone gagged, clutching their stomach.

Another let out a choked scream.

Haibara exhaled sharply. His voice echoed even though he hadn't moved closer.

“Run.”

The mob scattered.

A woman sprinted, high heels clacking against the concrete—

She took three steps before her knees folded backward with a sickening crunch. She hit the ground, twitching like a broken marionette.

A man reached for the exit, but the moment his hands touched the door, his fingers spread. Not his palm—his fingers. They stretched too long, bones splitting at unnatural angles, flesh webbing together like something not meant for this world.

He screamed.

Another tried to run—

His skin turned translucent. The veins underneath shifted, moving in a way veins shouldn’t. They didn’t pulse; they writhed. Words formed in the blood beneath his skin. A message not meant to be read by human eyes.

He looked down at his arms and understood.

He tore at his own flesh, screaming.

Haibara’s technique wasn’t like Megumi’s. It wasn’t like Sukuna’s raw brutality.

It was eldritch.

It didn’t just kill. It changed.

The kind of curse that burrowed into the body and made itself home. That twisted people into shapes they weren’t meant to take. That let them see things they were never meant to understand, forced to experience things they weren’t meant to see.

A man fell to his knees, clawing at his throat. His own voice was escaping his mouth, curling into the air like black smoke. The words whispered back to him in reverse, echoing secrets even he hadn’t known he was keeping.

One woman was still standing. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t running.

She was staring.

At something.

Her pupils had dilated so wide her irises were gone. Her mouth hung open, jaw slack. Silent. Unblinking.

Whatever she was seeing—

She wasn’t coming back.

Haibara stepped toward her, tilting his head and smirked. “Interesting.”

Megumi’s shadows shifted, impatient. Mahoraga’s tail flicked, and Agito’s massive jaw unhinged.

Megumi glanced at Haibara. “Done playing?”

Haibara grinned, eyes bright. “Yeah.”

The screaming didn’t stop.

Some of them were still alive.

Not for long.

Megumi didn’t waste time. He moved like a specter—silent, meticulous. Shadows coiled around his arms, slithering toward the last few stragglers. They twisted through rib cages, laced around throats, and tightened.

A man gasped, his breath cut off mid-sound. Another gurgled, twitching as something inside him folded wrong.

Haibara, meanwhile, laughed. He wasn’t even touching them.

The ones in front of him convulsed on the ground, writhing. Their bodies contorted like broken marionettes, pulled by strings no one else could see. Their mouths opened, but no screams came out—only wet, rattling exhales, their vocal cords stolen.

The man who had tried to run—one of the investors, judging by his expensive watch—was now on his knees, his shinbone jutting through his skin.

Mahoraga’s massive form loomed behind him, its eight eyes burning with cold patience.

Megumi didn’t react, only flicked his wrist. The shadows obeyed.

A blur of silver and shadow shot forward, its skeletal jaws snapping down—tearing through flesh, through ribs, through the core of a man who didn’t even get to finish gasping.

Agito’s claws burst from the floorboards, wrapping around another man's throat, dragging him under like a fish hooked beneath the surface. The gurgling stopped before he fully vanished.

Mahoraga moved and the ceiling buckled under its presence, the air warping like space itself was rejecting the creature’s existence.

Someone launched a rusty metal rod.

The rod never made it.

Mahoraga’s wheel spun.

The rod froze mid-air, vibrating violently before reversing its trajectory. It buried itself into the shooter’s own forehead, and he dropped, his blood spattering backward.

Megumi sighed, rolling his shoulders. Toji’s raw physicality in a body with his own technique—fully mastered and awakened—made everything so easy.

“Want me to finish them off, or should I let them keep running?” He cracked his knuckles.

Haibara hummed, twirling a knife between his fingers. “Let’s give them hope. It’s funnier that way.”

So they let them run.

For a little while.

Megumi moved first.

One blink, he was in the center of the warehouse. The next, he was in front of a man who had almost reached a window.

If he’d made it out, there were snipers outside. Megumi was always prepared.

The man stopped—no, he was stopped.

Megumi’s fingers were inside his stomach, gripping his liver like it was a plaything.

The man’s eyes were wide and his mouth opening and closing in silent, animal panic.

Megumi yanked his hand back, and blood splattered across the concrete.

The liver landed with a wet thud.

Megumi didn’t even watch him fall. He turned, piercing eyes already locked onto the next one.

Agito, meanwhile, moved with too many teeth, mouth stretching far beyond what anything in nature should allow.

A woman tripped.

But she never hit the ground.

One second, she was there. The next, Agito’s jaw clamped shut, and there was nothing left.

No bones. No blood. Just absence.

Megumi barely paid attention. He flicked his eyes, watching Mahoraga advance.

It stepped through the wreckage, shadows twisting at its feet. Towards a man, sobbing, scrambling backward against the wall. “No—no, please, I’ll give you whatever you want, I can pay, I—”

Mahoraga raised its massive clawed hand—and crushed him.

Bone and blood splattered around.

The rest tried to run faster, but Haibara’s technique didn’t let them.

One by one, they collapsed, their bodies warping, twisting, and breaking in ways the human form wasn’t meant to withstand.

A woman clawed at her own face, nails digging into flesh like she was trying to rip something out.

Her mouth moved. No sound came.

Her lips shaped a word.

Please.

Haibara leaned down, watching her with bright, fascinated eyes. “You’re still thinking?” He clicked his tongue. “That must be exhausting.”

He tapped her forehead.

She stopped.

Not dead. Not unconscious.

Just gone.

Her eyes were still open, still wide, still locked on something none of them could see. Her chest rose and fell mechanically, as if she was only breathing out of habit.

Then the last breath left the warehouse.

The air was still, thick with the scent of iron and rot.

All around them, bodies lay in unnatural shapes—bent backwards, sprawled, hollowed out. Some had collapsed mid-movement, faces frozen in unreadable expressions.

Others were missing things. Voices. Thoughts. Pieces of their minds scooped clean out.

No one was left to beg. No one was left to run.

Megumi exhaled, flicking his hands clean of the mess. His gloves were ruined. He pulled them off, tossing them onto a corpse.

Agito’s eyes gleamed through the darkness.

Mahoraga’s wheel slowed, the eight eyes blinking once before fading.

Haibara knocked on the door. Twice.

Megumi stepped over a mangled hand, heading for the exit.

The warehouse door creaked open.

Outside, the night air was cool. The moon was high. All unbothered.

As Megumi stepped into the dockyard, one of his employees—a specialist in discreetly gathering people—approached him, holding something small and dark in her hands. It wriggled, extending its tiny paws toward him. The raccoon kit, its fur now softer after a recent visit to the vet and groomer, sniffed curiously at his hands.

He gently scratched the creature between its ears, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Then he took it over and put it in his pocket and started walking.

Haibara fell into step beside him.

Neither of them spoke as they got in the backseat of the car.

The streetlights buzzed overhead as they made their way to the only place that mattered.

Home.

Which would be a few floors below in your building from today.

---

“How the hell have you not been able to decrypt a single phone yet, Choso?” Sukuna growled, frustration evident in his voice.

“It’s not a skill issue, you dumbass; it’s encrypted!” Choso shot back, then abruptly cut himself off. “Bingo!”

Sukuna leaped off the couch and strode over to him, curiosity piqued.

Choso opened the gallery on the phone, revealing a series of images.

“Hey, isn’t that the guy from that terrorist attack? Nanami Kento, I think? It’s all over social media from many days,” Yuji muttered as he strolled by, chewing on sour candy.

“And you’re telling me this now?!” Sukuna barked, his irritation boiling over.

“How the hell was I supposed to know you were looking for their wife? We thought you made her up!” Yuji retorted unfazed by Sukuna’s anger.

Choso stepped in to intervene before Sukuna could strangle Yuji, but Yuji simply walked over to the fridge for some soda. “You really should check social media from time to time,” he added nonchalantly.

“Where does she live?” Sukuna asked Choso, giving up on the unwinnable battle against Yuji.

A/N: So, how does it feel to know that Haibara isn’t dead, but he also has the moral alignment of an eldritch horror? Did you have fun? Do you feel unsafe? Good. And how much did we miss Sukuna? Also, I wrote another fic of this version of Haibara since y’all seem to love him so much, except this time, he’s a soft (but still terrifying) yandere with Nanago: 🤓 The Symphony of Spite 🤓 [Tumblr/Ao3] Ryomen Sukuna x GN!Therapist Reader x Nanami Kento Crybaby!Gojo Satoru x ..... (he's after one of your manz) And for no one but my shower thoughts: 🦴 Ooga Booga Battle Royale 🐯 [Tumblr/Ao3] F!Reader x Pre-Historic Neanderthal JJK daddies (Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Zenin Toji & Ryomen Sukuna) Like. Comment. Give me your first borns or just send me asks about your mental state. I’ll be waiting.

Next chapter will be out on idk :P

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Tag-list = @lady-of-blossoms @stargirl-mayaa @dark-agate @tqd4455 @roscpctals99 @sxlfcxst @se-phi-roth @austisticfreak @helloxkittylo @itoshi-r @kodzukensworld @revolvinggeto @luringfantasy @xx-tazzdevil-xx @unaaasz @thebumbqueen @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni

Taglist Open.

[alastor-simp]

Fly With Me!🌹 - Riddle Rosehearts Bloom Birthday x Fem Reader

❥Summary: It's August 24th! Which means its the adorable red headed dorm leaders birthday today. What will your gift be?

❥Tags: Bloom birthday, riddle rosehearts birthday, riddle roseheart x female reader, riddle roseheart is such a kawaii tsundere, twst x reader, riddle and reader are a couple.

❥Notes: I had to make a riddle x fem reader birthday fic for him, I couldn't resist! Enjoy!!

*Afternoon-Heartslabyul Dorm*

"RIDDDLLEEEEEEEE!" Yelling out his name, you ran towards the birthday venue of Heartslabyul dorm. Riddle had turned around quickly, as widen as he saw you barreling towards him, arms wide open. "Y/N! What are you-oopmh" Riddle's words were cut off as your arms engulfed him in a hug. Riddle remained frozen at the sudden hug, especially with how fast you came at him, it sent his mind spiraling. Once he was able to get his thoughts in order, he arched his head to look at you, eyes a bit strict. "How many times have I told you, no running in the halls. Are you so eager to earn a collar on your neck?" You gave a laugh and slowly loosened the hug, moving your hands to his shoulder. "Hey hey, I was running to give my boyfriend a birthday hug. Unless you didn't like it?" Your eyes turned sad, causing Riddle to panic. "N-no I didn't disapprove of the hug. J-Just warn me next time. I'm not very accustom to it." A smile returned to your face, and you pulled Riddle back into a hug, rocking him a bit, causing him to chuckle. "Okay okay. Oh, by the way, Happy birthday!" You sang it out, earning another chuckle from Riddle. "Thank you!"

Removing yourself from the hug, your eyes scanned Riddles outfit, amazed by the design. "Wow, that looks really good on you. Reminds me of something I saw in a book once." Riddle stepped back a bit, and motion his eyes down to look at his mage robe, before turning back to you with a soft smile. "It was traditionally worn in the past by well known mages. I remember seeing them in history books in Treins class. I recall in the past I wish to wear something like this." Riddle kept smoothing over certain parts of the robe, wanting to make sure it was pristine. Giving a chuckle, you moved closer and fixed the wizard hat on his head, making sure it was straight. "Well you are finally wearing it now, and it really suits you." Riddles face had turned a reddish color, but it wasn't due to anger, he was embarrassed. "S-stop with the teasing remarks please." His eyes continued to gaze down at the floor, clearly shy. "I'm not teasing you Riddle, I meant it." His eyes went back to look at you, observing for any mischief in them, and he found none. Calming down, his face adorned a smile once again, "I see, then I thank you for the compliment." You responded with a nod of your head.

"Ahem, now then, as per Heartslabyul tradition, it is required that a gift be presented to the Queen. Have you prepared your gift for me?" He postured his body like he always did, one hand placed on his hip, lips moved up into his signature smirk. Oh yeah! His Present! Remembering your gift, you left the room for a bit and came back, with a large gift box, covered in red gift wrapping and white ribbons. "Here is your present Riddle. I hope you like it." Placing the box in his hand, Riddle's eyes widen at the massiveness of the gift. He was fine with anything you gave him honestly, he just hoped you didn't waste a lot of money on it, as he knew you weren't given many funds from Crowley. Opening the box, Riddle let out a small gasp at what he saw. Inside the box was a well crafted tea cup set, shaped as strawberries.

The other item inside the box, was a rectangular shaped wrapped gift, it was covered in stickers as well as certain stationary items.

"Um, what is this?" Riddle lifted the object up, eyes filled with curiosity. You let out a chuckle, pointing to the object with your finger. "That is a common trend from my world called "Blind date with a book" where a person takes a random book and covers it up preventing the person who got it to see what it is, making it a surprise for the reader. Basically like a blind date by with a book. Some are done simple, and others are placed with more items. I made this one special for you and I added stickers, bookmarks, and a tea bag for you to enjoy when you read." Riddle listened to your explanation, eyes sparkling with excitement even more. He examined the item closely, admiring how well made it was. He could tell you had put a lot of time and effort into setting this up.

Setting the box down somewhere, Riddle turned back to you, eyes closed, giving you his sweet kind smile. "Thank you for the present, my rose. I can't wait to see what book you have chosen for me to read, and also use that cup set for the next Unbirthday party." Blushing, you looked down, rubbing your neck with your hand. "I hope you liked what I picked. I have only seen you read the school books, so I wasn't sure what your preferred genre was, but I think you will enjoy it." As your eyes turned back towards Riddle, you noticed the large broom that was decorated with a multitude of red flowers behind him, "Oh what is that?" Motioning his head to where you were looking, Riddle walked over and picked up the broom, holding it in front of you. "Oh this is the broomquet that was given to me by Vil-sempai. I had just flown it around the school a little while ago" Walking over, you touch the little flowers on the broom, admiring the soft petals. "As always, Vil has good taste. Sucks that I missed you flying around though."

Riddle's eyes continued to gaze at you, heart aching at your disappointed face. An idea came into his mind, and he gave you a soft smile. "Wanna fly with me?" Surprised at what he said, you stared at Riddle, not expecting him to say that to you. "On the broom? B-both me and you?" Smirking at your reaction, Riddle leaned in closer towards you, "Oya, your cheeks are very red, my rose." Glaring at riddle, you pushed him back a bit, telling him to stop teasing you, earning a small chuckle from him. "Well, do you want to?" Riddle eyes were serious, indicating that he really wanted an answer. You gave him a nod to his question, face still red. Riddle smiled, grabbing your hand with one while holding the broomquet with the other.

*Outside Night Raven College*

The both of you had ventured out of Heartslabyul and exited out of Night Raven College, towards the sports field, where the flight lessons took place. Riddle had positioned the broom, in between his legs, sliding to the front. Once he was settle, he turned around facing you, handing extending out for you to grab. Nervous, you slowly grabbed his hand, as you flung your leg on the other side, positioning yourself the same as Riddle. "If you are frighten, you may wrap your arms around me." The minute Riddle said that, your hands had wrapped around his middle torso, face pushed into his back, excited yet scared at the same time. His body stiffened a bit, but he quickly relaxed, getting comfortable with your arms around him. Hearing him take a breath, you felt his magic swirling around the broom, levitating the both of you off the ground. Pretty soon the both of you were high up, the ground becoming further and further away.

Your head still remained in Riddles back, but you slowly began to peak every once in a while to see. The view was spectacular, the sky was painted a sky blue changing into a peach orange, and the clouds were a mix of yellow and pink. "Wow!" You couldn't look away from the sight, placing your cheek against Riddle. "It truly is a beautiful view." Riddle turned a bit to look at you, kind smile on his face as he turned back to continue flying the broom. "So why did you want to go flying with me so badly?" Tilting your head in curosity, you waited for Riddle to respond to you. He remained silent for a minute, before turning back saying there was no reason for suggesting it. "Come on Riddle. Spill." Hearing him give a sigh, he stopped flying for a second, turning his head to face you. "In my hometown, there is well known ranch that is quite popular. They are known for their amazing looking desserts. Cater was kind enough to bring it to my attention about the new tarts they are selling and I wanted to go and try them." His cheeks were pinkish the more he explained it to you, causing your heart to soar. "You, Riddle Roseheart, want to leave school, fly all the way to your hometown to go eat some amazing desserts, with me? Who are you and what have you done with my Riddle?" You place one of your hands on Riddle's cheek, giving it a little pinch.

A bit annoyed, Riddle moved his head, causing your hands to leave his cheek. "I am still myself. Besides, it is still my birthday, and according to the Queen of Hearts Rules, you can eat whatever you like on your birthday, so I'm not breaking any rules, technically." You laughed at him, ahh he was still your Riddle, rule follower to the max as always. Hugging him closer to you, you place a kiss on his cheek, before setting your head on his shoulder. "Well? What are we waiting for? Lets go!" Riddle turned soft at your little show of affection, giving you a soft smile, before turning back to continue flying. "With pleasure!" The broom started to move again, going up in over in a little loop de loop, then continuing to fly towards your destination.

-FIN-

P.S

YESSSSSSSSS I GOT HIS BIRTHDAY BLOOM CARD AFTER I FINISHED WRITING THIS!!! LETS GO!!!!!!!!!!!!

Night Raven Students:

@sadnessiscoldtea , @madam-strawberryrose , @aria-tempest ,

@crazed-flower , @darischerry , @inkslayer,

@91062854-ka

@lillyisfreakyy , @batmanmonstarr @coffee-or-hot-cocoa

[heich0e]

suguru's throat feels tight.

not in the nice way—like when someone pays you a compliment you aren't expecting, or you're given a thoughtful gift.

his airway is a vice; sticky and closing in on itself like a boobytrap in those terrible action movies that satoru always makes him watch, where the walls are slowly crushing inwards on the hero, leaving no obvious way to escape.

his face feels hot—too hot for the meagre amount of alcohol he's had to drink that evening. hot enough that he's sure his cheeks are flushed a vicious red. he looks down at his hands, still wrapped around the half-drained drink between them, and when he pulls one away from the circumference of the glass he sees the way his fingers tremble, moved by a force only he can feel.

he sets his cup down on whatever surface is within reach and looks for the nearest exit.

the bar is crowded, and every body that jostles him on his odyssey to the door makes him feel even more sick to his stomach—makes him acutely, and uncomfortably aware of just how many people are jammed into such a confined space. with every step he takes towards the fire exit (the one which at this point he just has to pray isn't connected to some kind of alarm) it seems to be growing further away, like his steps are a paradox he's trapped in.

finally, finally, his hands press down against the push bar of the door, and cold winter air hits his burning cheeks like a slap.

he's on his knees retching into the grimy snowbank that lines the back alley before the door has even fully swung closed.

"oh, wow,—"

suguru can barely hear you over the sound of his pulse in his ears. it was too noisy in the bar to make it out this clearly, lost in the thrum of the bass-heavy music and the spiral of his thoughts, but now it's unmistakable. it pounds in his head, under his tongue, trapped in the walls of his throat.

he lifts his head, his eyes bleary from the tears his exertion had sprung to them, and he sees a figure a few paces away from him with a cigarette lifted to their lips.

he blinks hard, willing the world to come back into focus. as it does (painfully slowly,) he can see you better. the first thing he can clearly make out is the oversized jacket you have wrapped around your frame (big enough that it can't possibly be your own.) his eyes flicker next to the bare legs that peek out from underneath it, and trail all the way up to the lines of your face as you watch him. but it's your eyes that make him falter for a moment: curious but strangely impassive at the same time.

"—rough night?" you ask, but you make no move to come any closer to him.

he's grateful for at least that small mercy, he can't help but think.

"sorry," he chokes out, spitting into the sludgy grey snowbank one last time just to try and get the terrible taste out of his mouth. he stands unsteadily, his hands braced against the brick wall of the bar to keep himself balanced. "i didn't even drink that much."

he's not sure why he feels the need to say it, or make any effort to save face when you've just seen him at what's surely one of the lowest points of his life. you're a stranger, after all. what does it matter, anyway?

you hum a bit, taking another drag from your cigarette. the sound is halfhearted, and it upsets him unjustly.

"i really didn't," he insists, wiping at his mouth with the back of his knuckles and turning to you properly. "i-i'm on these new meds and they've got me all fucked up."

your eyes widen a bit, and he watches the way the smoke slips out of your lips—painted a rich, ruby colour for the evening.

"no shit?" you ask him. "you shouldn't be out partying if you're sick, y'know. alcohol can really fuck up scripts."

"i'm not sick," he replies quickly. too quickly. too ardently to possibly be true. and the silence that follows is too heavy for such a cold, still night. he looks away, fixing his eyes on the road at the end of the alley.

"oh," you drag out the word, an understanding lilt in your tone. "those kinda meds."

suguru glances back to you.

"so," you take a step towards him, and it sets his teeth on edge. "what's your poison of choice then? paroxetine? fluvoxamine? good ol' fashioned escitalopram?"

suguru's head is still spinning from the liquor, but his pulse has died down a bit. now his mouth feels uncomfortably dry.

you keep going.

"are you taking it neat or did they give you a little chaser with it too for a bit more"—you make a little flourishing gesture with your hand—"oomph."

you're right in front of him now. close enough that the smell of your cigarette has finally reached him. suguru can't help but eye it covetously, longing for the pack in his own coat pocket, left somewhere in the bar. you follow his eyes and laugh a little, holding the half-smoked cigarette out to him. it has a lipstick mark on the filter, but he takes it anyway.

he sucks in a greedy, needy inhale.

the rush of nicotine hits him right away, comforting and familiar. his exhale feels almost rapturous.

he takes another little puff, then extends the cigarette back out to you.

"don't worry about it,"—you wave the gesture off—"you can keep that one on account of the whole... y'know..." your eyes flicker down to the snowbank where geto had just been retching.

oh, right.

"thanks," he mumbles appreciatively, wasting no time before he takes another drag.

the two of you stand side by side in the dingy alley while geto finishes off your cigarette. he crushes it under the heel of his boot, grinding it down into the cracked asphalt, once it's done.

"how'd you know?" he asks after a few more moments of silence. the cold is starting to get to him now—registering in a way that didn't when he first made it outside. the chill bites at his cheeks and his nose, stinging in its frigidity.

"know what?" you feign coyness, tilting your head a little to the side. he sees a flicker of something behind your eyes again that slips through the facade of composure—something mirthful, and maybe a little mean.

he swallows, and tastes tobacco on his tongue. "about the anti-depressants."

you laugh a bit to yourself, but the sound is strained like you're almost trying to bite it back. "don't take this the wrong way, but you just sort of look like the type."

he looks at you—really looks at you—then.

you're pretty.

he supposes he recognized that already, even if he didn't process it properly at the time. your lips look soft, your eyes draw him in, and in any other circumstance he thinks you might have been the type of girl he sidled up alongside in a bar just like the one he just fled and tried to start a conversation with.

but these aren't any other circumstances. you just watched him puke his guts up in a filthy alley and then guessed his SSRI prescription like the world's worst game show. and to make matters worse, his dick hasn't even been working right lately since he started these new pills.

as though life wasn't already cruel enough.

the fire exit flies open again, and all attention turns to it.

"there you are," shoko is standing in the doorway, half-in and half-out of the bar, cringing against the cool evening air. she frowns in suguru's direction. "we've been looking everywhere for you."

suguru watches as she ducks her head back through the doorway, but whatever she calls over her shoulder is lost to the music that's bleeding out into the alley from inside the bar. gojo appears behind her in an instant, his displeased expression brightening immediately upon seeing his friend. he pushes his sunglasses up atop his head, his white hair pinned back underneath them.

"suguru!" he cheers. "we lost you."

"i was just getting some air," suguru smiles blithely, in the way that he's perfected.

gojo shoulders his way out the door towards suguru, dragging him back towards the door with an arm slung around his neck. shoko's eyes flicker over to you.

"oh, hey," she says, nodding in greeting.

"shoko-senpai," you return her greeting politely.

"are you coming back in too?" she asks.

gojo and geto both pause in the doorway, turning to glance back at you.

"no, i'm heading home," you say with an easy smile, not unlike the expression geto had just shown. "you three have a nice night."

"get home safe," she calls after you, a lilt of curiosity in her tone. you lift a hand over your shoulder as you walk away, waggling your fingers in a lazy wave.

"who was that?" gojo asks as the door swings shut behind shoko. he leans in front of suguru so his voice can be heard over the loud music.

"she's a junior in my department at school," shoko explains, "don't you recognize her?"

gojo purses his lips as he contemplates it and then shakes his head definitively. it's not unusual for satoru not to recognize someone, especially a pre-med student instead of a physics student like himself, but suguru is a bit surprised that he can't recall meeting you previously.

satoru tugs suguru's arm back towards the thick of the crowd, and he braces himself for the oncoming barrage of stimulation. he freezes just before he takes his first step, whipping back around to the door.

"what's wrong?" satoru asks him, leaning over his shoulder. he's got his sunglasses on again, and now suguru can't through the lenses in the dim light of the bar, but he knows satoru well enough to picture the wide-eyed look of curiosity that must be behind them.

suguru's brow pinches in a bewildered furrow.

"was she wearing my coat?"