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ladadiida · 2 years ago

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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.

or,

you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, heavy (kind of) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 HERE IT IS! the response to the sneak peek was crazy, and so i rushed to get this done. i only watched the live action so beware of minor mistakes if you ever saw one. english is also not my first language and you are welcome to correct me anytime for any grammatical errors. title is a lyric from the last time by taylor swift ft. gary lightbody. this fic is also posted in ao3 with its full summary and WITH A BONUS CHAPTER. enjoy reading!

𝐰𝐜 11.3k

"There you are."

Your soapy, wet hands almost dropped the ceramic plate you were currently washing in the dirty kitchen sink as soon as you heard a familiar smooth and honeyed voice. Abruptly turning off the sink so that the sound of his approaching footsteps were clear to your ears, you wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand before turning your body towards him.

He was carrying a stack of plates, a fresh batch to add to the pile you had to wash, with an obnoxious yet handsome smile plastered on his lips. You took a deep breath to calm the growing irritation at the bottom of your stomach, reminding yourself that this was your job and you only had a couple of hours to endure until you're free to lock yourself up in your bedroom. You were particularly looking forward to writing today, and the thought of finishing the lyrics to your new song tonight slightly eased your mood. Accepting your fate, you pointed to the remaining space beside the sink.

"Place it there." You told him, albeit begrudgingly as you turn on the sink again and pour more soap on the battered sponge.

You took a mental note to ask Zeff later about buying new sponges, and if you were lucky to catch him in a good mood, you'll put in a request to get the sink fixed and cleaned. Your eyes scanned over the grime and rust around the area. If you were going to spend the rest of your life washing dishes, then you might as well get a proper kitchen sink to do so.

An amused laugh fell out of the golden haired man you grew up with, surprised at your compliance to do the job you hated. The sound nearly sent your poor heart into a dizzying whirlwind of little nuisances called emotions. "What a hardworking woman."

"I could say the same to you. It seems like you have a new record today." You said while you splashed dirtied bowls with soap water, smiling at him teasingly, "Thought you would've been kicked out of the line by now."

"The old man just can't help but to accept the fact that I am a greater cook than him." He smirked, wiping a knife with a dish cloth. Trying not to roll your eyes, you shook your head at his usual display of arrogance, yet you can't help but to grin as you began to hear scratching sounds against the floors.

"Then you better get those chopped carrots ready." You replied, and when you got to finish your sentence, the doors to the kitchen swung open, revealing the head chef.

Zeff's cold and steely eyes immediately landed on the blond. He walked towards him with a fast pace despite only having one leg, his braided mustache bouncing in each step.

"Aye, aye, aye. Why haven't you started on the carrots yet, little eggplant? Can you get any slower?" He scolded, loud enough for the whole staff to hear, but none of them even flinched. You returned back to your plates and glasses, smiling softly. This was part of your routine everyday: to listen in their silly arguments.

However, before the younger chef can reply, you butted in, "Sanji fetched some of the plates for me. Since there's a lunch rush, I couldn't leave the kitchen."

Zeff let out a low hum. You couldn't even see Sanji's face, but you knew him well enough to know that he was smiling triumphantly, knowing that he won this time. After a few minutes of contemplating, the head chef clicked his tongue. "Don't defend him, little lass. But I'll let it slip this time. What are you waiting for, then? Start cutting them!"

"Yes, chef." Sanji answered in a jovial manner, placing the carrots on a chopping board.

Twisting the faucet lever so that the water flow from the sink is gentle and quiet, you then paid attention to their little banters every now and then. You brought up a wine glass and positioned it by your side to try to get a glimpse of the two most important men in your life. Through their reflection on the glass, you can see Zeff hunching over Sanji's knifework, nodding every time the vegetables were correctly sliced.

On the other hand, Sanji was unbothered by the head chef's observations and continued to cut the ingredients calmly. Some of the strands in his hair fell down on one side of his face, covering an eye, and most people would think that it was an unusual way of styling hair; yet it was one thing out of many that you loved the most about him.

You accepted it years ago.

You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.

Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.

Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.

You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.

As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.

"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.

Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."

This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."

"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."

"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.

"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.

It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.

But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.

"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.

Ah.

You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.

"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.

You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"

"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."

Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.

"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."

You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.

"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.

He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."

Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."

The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.

That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.

Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.

You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.

A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"

Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.

"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.

You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."

Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite desert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.

You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.

Happy Birthday

— S.

You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

Today was the day, and you won't allow anyone to ruin it for you.

You had saved enough Berries to travel around the world and sustain yourself for the upcoming months. Your notebook containing the lyrics of the songs you wrote laid open on top of your bed as you spent all night revising them while planning out an itinerary. Then you'll find a place to settle in, a stable job that required doing what you loved the most, and overall just be peaceful and free from pirates and chefs and pirate chefs. It was perfect.

Folded clothes surrounded you everywhere, ready to be packed in your bags. Once you finished stuffing them all in, you grabbed your treasured instrument, the one thing you couldn't live without: your guitar, which has been with you since you were a little child. It was given by your mother and you've been attached to it ever since.

It has scratches all over its wooden surface, and the strings needed some fixing occassionally, but you wouldn't trade it for the greatest treasures in the world. You ran your fingers over it, suddenly feeling like it was lacking something. Seeing the paint chipping off at the corners, you figured that it needed a little color. You'll need lacquer, and paint if you managed to find some.

You set the guitar aside and left your bedroom to head downstairs to the kitchen. As you were about to push the doors open, a loud, angry shout made you stop in your tracks.

"I won't ever become a pathetic waiter for you!" Sanji's thunderous yells can be heard from outside. Your shoulders tensed up. It was a good thing that brunch was over and all the customers had left.

Zeff's own furious voice followed, "Leave then, for all I care! You can do anything you want, but don't you ever serve one of your shit dishes in my kitchen!"

A frown settled on your face. Their fights were a normal occurrence to you, but this one sounded more grave than usual. Crossing your arms, you stepped in closer to the entrance and hesitated whether you should go in or not. Before you could make a decision, Zeff beat you to it by pushing the doors open, rage emanating from his figure as he ignored and walked past you.

Without hesitation this time, you entered the kitchen, greeted by the sight of Sanji bowing over the counter, breathing heavily, his face covered with his hair. He didn't move an inch even as you approached him, the clacking of the heels in your boots echoing throughout the room.

Both of you were silent as you rummaged through cabinets, trying to find lacquer to cover your guitar with, while he tried his best to calm himself down after his outburst. Many cupboards later, you finally found a small can of used up lacquer, but as you started to reach for it, your hand completely stopped mid-air.

You looked over your shoulder, and found Sanji already recovered from the argument seeing that he was on the move again, preparing a cut of beef tenderloin and other ingredients he needed for tonight's dinner.

Slowly, you closed the cupboard and went closer to him. He still refused to look at you. And so you watched him place a bag of flour on the countertop, slices of cold butter, and a variety of spice bottles to season the meat with.

Sanji began to wrap twine around the beef tenderloin. You sighed, and before you could stop yourself, you grabbed a bowl and decided to help him. Your guitar can wait.

It was rare for you to cook inside the kitchen, having so little knowledge about food and how they were prepared, but you knew this recipe well. You poured two cups of flour through the sifter, followed by placing heaps of the cold butter in the mixture.

The moment you started to mix the dough for the puff pastry, Sanji quickly pointed out in a monotone voice, "You're adding too much butter."

You raised your head and glanced at him, his attention now on the meat he was searing on a skillet. You smiled, glad that he was speaking again.

"You're beginning to sound like the old man himself." You joked lightly.

His jaw clenched. "Don't compare me to that shitty geezer."

In a softer voice, you asked, "What happened?"

"The usual." He replied curtly. "Didn't approve of my dishes."

You perked up upon hearing about a dish he made himself. Sanji was talented when it comes to creating his own recipes, and sometimes, you would be the person he chooses to test them out. Every time he lets you taste them, your chest would feel warm and you wouldn't be able to sleep for days because you'll keep replaying it in your head. "What did you make this time?"

"It doesn't matter. He'll never agree to any of them."

"Maybe I can—"

"Drop it. Don't poke your nose in things you're not involved." Sanji cut you off, his hardened gaze meeting your concerned stare. You only blinked at him, straightening up.

"I see." You muttered, eyes landing on the bag of flour. You looked at him, then at the flour, then back at him. A smile began to form on your lips as a devious plan formulated itself in your brain. Sticking your hand inside the bag of flour, you took a fistful of the pillowy powder and threw it straight into his face.

Sanji jumped back, flinching and closing his eyes when some of the flour's particles managed to enter them. His jaw dropped open in surprise, hands quickly removing themselves from the skillet's handle to dust off the flour that rested on his now white hair. You tried to stifle a laugh as you watched him struggle getting the flour out.

Once he managed to clean himself, he stared straight at you and said in the calmest way possible, even if you knew deep inside that he was fuming, "What was that for?"

A high-pitched snort left your mouth. You covered it to prevent yourself from laughing.

You cleared your throat and smiled at him innocently. "Am I involved now?"

His piercing blue eyes then started to sparkle with mirth, amusement replacing the vexation previously swimming in them. He also looked to be trying to push down a smile, and that made your heart skip a beat. "You're insufferable."

He reached for the bag of flour. You squeaked and took off running, trying to escape from his attack, but he still managed to throw a small amount on you. Giggling, you ran the opposite direction to confuse him, and yet he caught up with you, throwing another round of flour. This time, it hit your cheeks, making you laugh loudly. He laughed along, pointing a finger at you because you probably looked crazy at the moment.

You tried to take the bag of flour away from him, but he just took it an as opportunity to catch your arm and grip it firmly. He pulled you into his chest, caging you completely.

With your cheeks warm and your breaths short, you tilted your head up and looked at him, noticing the way that you were both covered in flour; and not only that, you also noticed the short distance between your bodies and how your noses were almost touching. His pupils were dilated, black dominating the alluring blue shade that kept haunting your dreams. You drank in the attention he was giving you, the breathing coming out from his soft lips, and the comfortable silence that wrapped around the both of you like a safe little bubble.

"Caught you." Sanji muttered, voice deeper and huskier, making you let out a quiet sigh. His arms snaked around your waist as he leaned in closer. A million questions started to run inside your head, begging to know what this situation was and how you got into it. "Nowhere to run now, darling."

A slamming of doors shattered the secret moment you shared, and you immediately pulled away from each other. You pushed down your disappointment and hid it in the secret crevice in your heart as the two of you faced your intruder.

Zeff observed your flour-laden figures, his thick eyebrows scrunched together in irritation. He then demanded, voice seething and dripping with anger, "What in the hell are you two little brats doing?"

Sanji blurted out in defense, "Zeff, we—she was the one who started it!"

"And you went along with it!" You accused incredulously, grinning from ear-to-ear. Sanji grinned back, shaking his head and biting his lower lip.

"Oh, shut up before I stitch your mouths! Just by looking at you two, I already know that you snot-nosed shits are both at fault!" Zeff shouted, clicking his tongue at the sight of the half emptied flour. "Wasted them good flour for your childish fights. You're even worse than fatwits. Get out and clean the toilets!"

"Not the shitty toilets!" Sanji groaned, and you couldn't blame him for it. The bathroom area smelled revolting and the floors were always wet for some reason.

"I don't wanna hear complaints from you when you've dirtied my kitchen! Off you go!" Zeff dismissed, and you can't help but to laugh again when you saw Sanji pout like a little kid.

The head chef watched the two of you leave the kitchen together while giggling and exchanging fond looks. Patty, who also saw the whole situation unfold, suddenly appeared beside him, snickering, "I can already hear the wedding bells ringing."

Zeff took a deep, tired breath.

"Oh, they're ringing alright."

You cleaned and scrubbed the toilets the entire afternoon with the man you're in love with, flushing your plans down the drain and forgetting all about them, and that was the second time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

You didn't know how you ended up in a ship full of pirates.

Well, maybe you knew. A little. But it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your knuckles were beginning to turn white with how tight you were clenching them. A mix of emotions swirled around in your chest, namely confusion, impatience, and hesitation, pondering about whether you should be irritated at yourself or at Sanji.

The opportunity was there, handed to you like a steak on a golden platter, or a miracle that suddenly fell from the sky. The day you met Luffy and his strange pirate crew was the day you immediately realized that he was the key to your exit from the Baratie. He was friendly; a good pirate, according to his own words, so you figured he would allow you to tag along for a while until you find an island to get off to. You just had to ask for his permission and wait for his reply.

Luffy agreed. And you were ecstatic. You were finally going to leave Sanji Vinsmoke and your pathetic, unrequited feelings behind.

Or so you thought.

You watched in horror as he followed you when you boarded the Going Merry, also carrying a bag of his own. He said something along the lines of Luffy needing a cook for the journey to the Grand Line but you couldn't care less. You got here first. Why was he here?

So here you were, sitting in a corner, lonelier than ever and regretting your life decisions. You watched Luffy and his friends celebrate after defeating the pirate Arlong and saving Coco Village from his inhuman hold over its people, but Sanji and the beautiful orange haired Nami were nowhere in sight.

The thought of them being gone together at the same time left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue.

Nami. The first time you laid eyes on her, ethereal was the word that came up to your mind. With soft deep saffron locks that framed her small face and a wide blue eyed gaze, she would have the cruelest of men begging for mercy and affection at her feet.

Unfortunately, Sanji was one of those men.

Fuck, you cursed mentally, rubbing your face with your hands to try and forget about the times he flirted with her and the moments he wouldn't stop talking about her or kept asking about her favorite food or dessert or if she's into blonds. Your already battered heart doesn't need the usual reminder that he'll never see you that way, that you weren't going to experience his sweet words and his loving gazes.

You took a sharp breath. It's okay, you tell yourself over and over again until they were buried in your heart. They'll make a great pair, Sanji the cook and Nami the thief. A strong man with an equally strong woman. Yes. That makes sense.

You'll leave soon anyway, and you'll no longer have to worry about seeing them or how they were going to end up together.

And yet you can't help but to think about the things that could've been if you were the one he was in love with instead.

You were crossing your arms and hugging yourself as the crisp afternoon air was getting chilly when a hand gripping a shot glass filled with amber liquid appeared in front of you. Looking up, you saw Luffy smiling widely at you, waving the glass encouragingly.

"Come on, just one drink! Usopp poured this for you!" The captain exclaimed heartily, obviously trying to uplift your spirits and to make you feel welcomed in his crew, even though you did nothing but to guard the Going Merry while they were fighting for their lives.

You shook your head and smiled politely. "No, I don't drink. Sorry."

Luffy's smile faltered, but he recovered quickly. He nodded, setting the glass down on top of a barrel. "Well, okay." He said, then turned to Usopp, who was currently downing a whole bottle of whiskey. "Hey, where's Nami?"

"Oh, she's with the cook," Usopp replied cheekily, wiping his mouth after drinking. There was a teasing tone in his voice as he continued, "Someone's getting a boyfriend tonight!"

With that said, you reached for the shot glass that Luffy was offering you earlier, grabbed it swiftly, and poured the whole thing down your throat. The whiskey tasted unfamiliar, and it burned and made you dizzy at first taste, but it doesn't matter; as long as it can make you forget just for a little while, you were willing to drink more of the horrible beverage.

Zoro, the green haired swordsman and the captain's first mate, stared at you as if you had lost your mind, but a tinge of concern was visibly written on his face. "Woah, slow down." He warned sternly.

"I thought you didn't drink." Was all Luffy said, blinking in confusion. You chuckled tiredly.

"Now I do."

Drink after drink, glass after glass. You lost count on how many times Usopp poured whiskey for you, or how many times Zoro shook his head in disbelief. Luffy was the same old happy-go-lucky captain throughout the disaster that was starting to brew inside you, turning your brain into mush. You can barely lift your head or your fingers as you asked for another shot in an incoherent voice. Luckily, Usopp was still able to understand you, tipping the whiskey bottle yet again towards your glass.

You started to raise the glass to your lips, eager to just get severely drunk and be over with it already. However, you suddenly felt strong fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you from drinking; and when you caught sight of a familiar silver ring with Baratie's jolly roger inlaid upon it, you didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Sanji's voice was unnervingly calm as he questioned the crew, but the slight shake in his words lets you know otherwise. "Which one of you allowed her to drink?"

"No one. She took the glass and made the decision herself." Zoro drawled, challenging the chef, "The last time I checked, waiter, you were supposed to be the one responsible for her."

Sanji ignored him and turned his attention to you. He stole the shot glass away from you, then kneeled and held your hands comfortingly, smiling. "Come on, ange. It's time for you to rest now." He said quietly, yet loud enough for only you to hear.

You stubbornly shook your head repeatedly and whined loudly. "No! Don't touch me!" You cried, prying your hands away from his, "I don't like you...!"

Zoro huffed in amusement at your declaration. Sanji glared at him for a short second before looking at you again. This time, he stood and gently placed his arms under your shoulders to raise you up. Once you were standing on your feet, he swept you up and carried you bridal style with ease. Another whine escaped your lips.

"Put me down! I want another drink, please, just one more!" You pleaded while throwing weak punches on his chest. Sanji only smiled and began to lead you towards the sleeping quarters. You continued to thrash in his arms as he walked slowly and in small steps so he wouldn't drop you.

Sanji carefully set you down on your hammock. "No drinks for you until you actually learn how to take them." He told you, tucking a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek and rubbed it in circles, noting how fast you were heating up due to the alcohol. You pouted.

"Pretty please, Sanji...please..."

He chuckled, staring at you intensely. "Maybe some other time, ange."

You went quiet, staring back at him with half-lidded eyes. Then, you crossed your arms like a child and asked, "Why do you keep calling me that?"

Sanji raised a brow. "Call you what? Ange?"

You nodded. "I don't like it."

He began to smile, the dimples on his cheeks appearing. You briefly wondered if he'd allow you to poke and feel them. "Why?"

"I don't know what it means. Is it an insult?" You wondered aloud, your eyes widening in curiosity.

A hearty and warm laugh came out from Sanji, his eyes forming half-moons as he cackled at your words like they were the biggest joke he heard in his entire life, "Oh, my dear girl, how could I possibly insult you?" He managed to speak between laughs, "It means angel. You're an angel, to me at least. My angel."

Oh.

Your lips parted in surprise. Blinking, you simply said, "You're not Sanji."

He's not Sanji. He wouldn't call you angel; you're not even sure if he found you beautiful or attractive. You wear the same old tattered dresses that Zeff bought for you a long time ago, and you didn't even bother to style your hair or put on face powder like all the other beautiful ladies do. You look nowhere near to an angel.

But Sanji only grinned. "I assure you, I am very much Sanji. The little brat who pulled your hair when we were barely eleven years old."

Your breath hitched at the thought of him remembering one of your fond memories in your childhood. "You remembered."

"Of course I remembered." He whispered, cupping your cheek one last time before he got ready to leave. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away when you spoke.

"Are you going to see her again?" You asked, and he quickly noticed how broken your voice sounded. Sanji faced you in concern and was taken aback with how deep you were frowning. He figured that you were just drunk and women tend to be different when they were intoxicated. You were no exception to that, it seemed.

"Hm?" He hummed, prompting you to elaborate further.

Tears began to form in the corners of your eyes. You shakily mumbled, "Nami...you're going to Nami, aren't you?"

Sanji froze, an icy cold rush filling up his body. A knot formed in his throat, and it continued to tighten the longer he stared at your face. You looked so hurt—like he just destroyed your beloved guitar into pieces. Your lower lips were trembling, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. For a moment, he couldn't find the courage to answer you, feeling like he could die at any second now if he answers your question.

But the answer was simple.

"Yes." He breathed out, a sharp pain stabbing through his heart.

And it only became worse when a teardrop finally rolled down your cheek. "Why?" You rasped, and Sanji didn't know that a single word can hurt this much.

He tried to give you a reassuring smile but awfully failed to do so. He started to explain, "We were just discussing something—"

"Why not me?"

Those three words coming out of your mouth felt like a final blow to his heart. He can feel himself bleed, drained of life and soul because of you and your words alone, and he let you. He let you kill him, he let you make him swim in his own guilt and he doesn't why, why, why.

More tears fell out of your angelic eyes, staining your cheeks with wet trails, and he tried to hold himself back from wiping them off. You choked out, "Why not me, Sanji? I have been asking myself that question for the past decade, and it eats my brain every night like some kind of plague, but I let it anyway. Because why? Why can't you just recognize me and appreciate me and see me? Why can't you go to me if you want to talk about your dreams, or what dish you're planning to create? Why do you have to seek solace in other women when you have me standing by your side everyday, me who is willing to listen to you and whatever you have to say?"

Angry, red rimmed eyes glared at him. Your hair strands stuck to your skin and framed your face as sweat began to form on your forehead. Teardrops clung to your wet eyelashes and your face was drenched like you just took a swim in the ocean. You were burning with fury and rage and want, struggling to breathe properly after your little rant, and Sanji thought you couldn't be more beautiful. You were so beautiful.

"Oh but I couldn't blame you for that. She's just so beautiful, so perfect, and so strong. She could give you anything you wanted and she could be anything that I never was." You hiccuped, smiling forcibly, "But in the end...I will still love you. I will always love you. I think."

You scooted closer to him, leaning in until your faces only had a few inches apart between them. You didn't notice how his lips were slightly parted in shock, nor his eyes that were starting to glisten with his own tears. "No matter where I flee to, or where I lay my heart on, or which skies I look at—it's always you, Sanji. It's always been you."

"I had been so selfless all these years, Sanji. So please, can you pretend to like me too, just for today, before I leave?" You whispered meekly, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands. Numb and completely speechless, Sanji simply gave you a single nod as a response.

You gingerly pressed your lips against his, and he immediately tasted the saltiness of your tears. But your lips were soft, as he expected from an angel like you. And so he couldn't help himself; he closed his eyes and delicately kissed you back, repeating your name in his mind like a sacred prayer and wishing to the stars above to not let the moment end.

However, you broke the kiss by losing consciousness and falling down on your hammock, knocked out and peacefully snoring.

Sanji spaced out, not moving from his position. No. It's not that he didn't want to move—he couldn't move. He couldn't feel anything except for the drumming of his heart, knocking on his chest desperately. His lips were still tingling and his ears and neck were warming up.

He gulped, loosening the collar of his shirt to cool himself down. He needed a cigarette. And a drink.

Scrambling to get up even with his trembling legs, Sanji managed to stand properly. He avoided your sleeping figure and decided to get out of the room as soon as possible. However, when he took a step forward, his foot touched a notebook lying on the floor.

Sanji bent down and took the notebook. He flipped it open, and after reading only the first page, he finally came into a conclusion.

Heartbroken, drunk, and unaware, you dozed off the rest of the afternoon. When nightfall settled on the azure horizon and dusk fell on the rough surface of the sea, you missed the chance to walk away from the crew yet again; and that was the third time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

The next morning, you woke up feeling much better with only the memory of you drinking and crying yourself to sleep and nothing else. Everything was normal, and the crew began to make plans for their next adventure during breakfast.

Everything was normal, except for Sanji, who was quiet throughout the whole discussion. And of course, just like always, you were the only one who noticed his strange behavior. You tried to catch his eyes, but he looked at everywhere except you.

When he finally met your gaze, you gave him a soft smile, hoping he would smile back and everything was fine and you were just overthinking it.

He doesn't.

⸻ • ⸻

"Are you really going to leave?"

Taking your gaze away from the heart shaped cloud you spotted on the clear blue sky, you faced the person who asked the question you were dreading for some time now. Luffy was staring curiously at you, awaiting your answer. You can't help but to smile softly at the captain, whose kindness you have yet to repay.

"I believe we already talked about this, captain." You said, recalling your short conversation last night. He kept asking you if you were really sure about your decision while his eyes darted to a certain blond haired chef every time he shoots you the question. It was strange, and you felt even more suspicious when Sanji pretended not to hear your answer and even refused to glance your way.

Luffy put his hands on his hips. "You know, you're welcome to stay and be a part of my crew."

You crossed your arms, smile growing wide. "And what, pray tell, is my role? Sing battle songs and chant your names while you swing your gummy arms at pirates?" You joked playfully.

The young captain stroked his chin in deep thought, almost like he was considering your suggestion. "That's not a bad idea."

You bursted out laughing, shaking your head in disbelief, "I'll leave first thing in the morning. I told Nami to dock at a nearby island."

"What about Sanji?" He suddenly questioned, leaving you flabbergasted for a split second. You weren't prepared to hear Sanji's name after days of not talking to him properly.

Him not speaking with you wasn't a strange occurence at all; back when you were still in the Baratie, there would be days when Sanji wouldn't bother to acknowledge your presence and would completely ignore you. This would happen whenever he was extremely busy with his cooking or he had a disagreement with Zeff.

And it seemed like this was one of those days, seeing that he had been ignoring you for about a week now. Yes, you have been keeping count. Although he doesn't appear to be angry with you, the short-lived exchanges and the abrupt cut-offs before you could say anything deeply concerned you more than it should have.

You tried to rack your brains for reasons on why he was acting like this. Maybe Nami had rejected him for the hundredth time, or Zoro kept throwing insults in his direction—or maybe his cigarette packet had ran out. Maybe his kitchen knives weren't sharp anymore and he was struggling in the kitchen.

Should you ask him? Should you go to him and demand him to tell you what's wrong?

You pressed your lips together. It sounded like the worst idea you've thought of so far. You convinced yourself that Sanji was fine and he'd be back to normal in no time; there would no need to talk to him.

"What about him?" You faltered, chuckling to ease the tension in your body.

"You care for each other." Luffy explained bluntly and matter-of-factly, "What does he think about you leaving?"

A shaky sigh made its way out of your lips. How will you tell the captain that his cook has been avoiding you like you were some kind of rotten fish these days?

"I..." You stammered, gathering the courage to lie to Luffy even if you thought it would be the gravest sin you could commit, "He...agrees. Yeah. No need to worry."

Luffy grinned, but it didn't look normal at all. You winced in embarrassment. He knew that you were lying and was totally unconvinced.

Luckily, he didn't voice it out. He only nodded and said, "Great! Oh, I have an idea! Why don't you sing for us before we part ways? Think of it as a farewell party for the crew."

Hearing the pure and genuine excitement dripping from his voice, you couldn't turn him down. It was a good idea too, and now that you thought about it, you haven't performed for them yet. "Sure." You agreed, shrugging.

He raised his fist up in the air and cheered. You smiled, watching as he shouted for his crewmates' names to come down and listen to you sing. You prepared yourself for an impromptu performance, making sure that your guitar was properly tuned and your voice was clear enough to give you the best version of your singing. Sitting on top of a barrel, you faced your audience of four, all their eager eyes watching your every move.

As you struck the first chord to your song, you tried hard not to think that Sanji wasn't there to watch you sing the song you secretly dedicate to him.

In the kitchen, Sanji busied himself by plating the food that he'll serve to his fellow crew mates for dinner. He grabbed a large plate and placed the chicken drumsticks that his captain favored, but Luffy wasn't the one in his mind when he cooked those. Looking at the food, he wondered if you would love them too.

He shook his thoughts off and took the plate with him outside. Approaching the crew, his steps slowed down when he heard a familiar singing voice and a melodic tune of a guitar.

Sanji almost dropped the plate.

It was you. Of course it was you, you were the only one he knew who had a voice like that. It was you, and you were singing with a lovely smile painted on your sweet lips, the very same lips that touched his a few days ago, resulting in him not getting a wink of sleep every night. The beam of the sunset right behind you colored your hair in the different shades of the sky as the dulcet-filled notes you made echoed throughout the vast sea. For a moment, he was worried that you were going to attract ferocious sea beasts with your angelic voice and steal you away from him.

He could hear his blood pound in his ears the longer he observed you from afar. You looked happy. Happier than you were when you stayed with him and Zeff. His chest tightened, knowing that you leaving and go on adventures on your own was probably the best decision you could make, even if that means leaving him too.

You were finishing up your song by the time you saw Sanji standing behind Usopp, silently listening. He met your gaze, and for the first time ever, you couldn't read his mind. His expression was blank as you stared at each other, and as you opened your mouth to say something, he cut you off.

"Dinner's ready." Sanji announced shortly, setting down the plate in front of Luffy and then walked away without saying another word.

That was your final straw. You immediately put down your guitar and followed him into the kitchen. You didn't care about how you felt Nami's watchful eyes on you as you went after him, nor how Luffy was scarfing down the dinner and was definitely going to finish it all before you could take a bite; you just chased the blond with determination oozing out of you.

You roughly pushed the door open and found Sanji washing the pans he used for cooking. He glanced at you briefly then quickly looked away after. This irritated you even more as you demanded, "Is there something bothering you?"

"You should eat before the food gets cold." He said with an empty voice.

"Sanji!"

He stiffened. You rarely raised your voice at anyone. Sighing in defeat, he dried off his hands and fully faced you.

Your eyes were sharper than his knives, cutting straight into his soul. "I've known you for a long time now, do you think I don't notice whenever you have a problem?" You glowered, taking a step closer to him, "You have a problem. What is it?"

It happened fast. His hand landed on the small of your back and pulled you to his chest, and the other was placed on top of your cheek, and in a single motion, Sanji captured your lips with his. You gasped in the kiss, your heart dropping to the soles of your feet when he tilted his face to deepen it. Your fingers tightly grasped the sleeves of his shirt for support as he passionately moved his lips against yours. A pleasant heat ran down your spine, your whole body tingling and warming up. You were simply drowning. There was no other way to describe it, and it was only caused by his fervent kisses.

Sanji pulled away, resting your forehead on top of yours, and you took it as an opportunity to breathe in air that you lost. "You are the problem." He murmured lowly, eyes darting down to your swollen lips. Confused and lightheaded, you didn't get the chance to retort.

"Ever since that night, ange, you occupy my thoughts. You gave me a taste of your lips and you didn't even remember the next day. Do you know how that feels, hm?" He said, pecking your lips once again. You made a noise in the back of your throat, turning your head sideways so he couldn't kiss you anymore, but he took your chin and hungrily connected both of your lips.

He spoke between kisses, "You torture me. Ever since I read those songs you wrote about me in that little notebook of yours, you torture me with your presence."

That was when you snapped out of your daze. With all the force you could muster, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him away. Sanji stepped back, surprised at your reaction.

Without giving him a chance to ask you anything, you ran off and left the kitchen, slamming the door loudly so you wouldn't hear him calling your name and be tempted to go back in his arms again.

You arrived in the sleeping quarters, locking the door behind you. You were sure that the others would understand you needing your alone time. Once you made sure you were on your own, your body collapsed altogether, your back sliding down against the door as you panted heavily.

He knows, was all you could think about. He knows about the songs. He knows about your feelings.

Well, you finally got your answer to your previous question, but a more complicated one replaced it. With trembling hands, your fingers raised themselves to your lips, touching its surface. You hated the way that you still felt his warmth on top of them.

A lone tear slid down the side of your nose. He was cruel. Sanji was cruel.

You didn't come out of that room for days, refusing to talk to anyone as you gathered your scrambled throughts and pulled yourself back together, and that was the fourth time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.

⸻ • ⸻

A stack of books, most of them being a collection of maps compiled in one, rested beside you while you flipped through the pages of the one you chose among them.

Nami has been lending you her books ever since you shut yourself out from the crew. You ignored all of them and only let Nami in, hoping that she'll be able to understand you; and she did. She was a good listener. Although you weren't particularly close with each other, you trusted her and told her everything: your dreams, your problems, your feelings, and Sanji. In return, she confided in you too.

"Here. So you can finally decide on where you will go to," You recall her saying while she handed you her collection of world map books, "and to distract yourself, of course."

"You're too kind, Nami." You said in admiration. Maybe this is why Sanji was enamored with her. She was a beauty inside and out.

Nami shrugged, yet she was smiling. "Just helping a fellow woman out."

The books did take your mind off the stubborn blond haired man that was still resting inside your heart, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. You tried to search for islands that will be suitable for you to start your career, narrowing some of them down into choices, but your eyes wil always lead back to where the Baratie was stationed.

You leaned back against your chair, letting your head hit the wall with a soft thud as you released a sigh of frustration. Not only will you need to prepare yourself for a journey all alone, but you also have to talk to Sanji sooner or later, whether you like it or not. The kiss distracted you more than the books Nami gave you. You think of it in the morning and dream of it at night, and it only got worse every time you remembered that he kissed you like he loved you.

Relaxing in your seat, you closed the book and listened to the silence.

The Going Merry docked for a quick trip to a market to gather fresh ingredients for food. Sanji will be gone for the meantime and you were free to roam around the ship without his heated stare boring holes in your skin.

But the peace was ruined by rushed footsteps and Usopp breaking into the room, almost destroying the door with his brute force. You frowned, standing up on alert when you saw how nervous he looked.

"Sanji's injured!" He exclaimed, which got your brow raising, knowing that he had a long history of lying to people. However, he forcibly pulled Sanji inside, and you were greeted by the sight of a bruised man, whose lips were bleeding and cheeks were starting to yellow.

You immediately sprang into action. You took the first aid kit you packed in your bag and grabbed his arm, making him sit down on your chair.

"How did you get into a fight in just a span of ten minutes?" You asked in irritation, wetting a cloth with saltwater to wipe off the blood on his lips.

Sanji grunted, tensing up when you took a hold of his face and dabbed on his lip using the cloth. "Some petty vendor was selling overpriced onions, and they weren't even the best of quality."

You stopped for a minute, glaring at him. "So you decided to punch them instead of talking it over?"

He only huffed in reply. Pursing your lips in annoyance, you continued to treat his wounds in silence, noticing him flinching and wincing in pain whenever you compress the bruised area with ice. "Who's being petty now?" You scolded impatiently, "Stay still."

The only sound that filled the room was you hastily rummaging your kit trying to find an ointment and an awkward silence that made you want to jump into the sea and never swim back to the surface. You unscrewed the lid of the jar of ointment and scooped some with your finger, looking at Sanji as you did so. He looked back at you quietly, and you tried hard not to think about the fact that you have to touch his lips in order for you to apply it.

It seemed like he realized that too, glancing down at the dollop of ointment on top of your finger, then back to you. You just gave him a small, uneasy smile, showing him that you weren't uncomfortable even though you were, and shyly took a step forward.

As gently as you could, you spread the ointment on the wounded area on his lips, reminding yourself to not be distracted on how soft they looked.

"A busted lip because of overpriced ingredients...it almost feels like you're doing this on purpose so I wouldn't get the chance to leave you." You half-heartedly joked to lighten up the atmosphere. However, you were greeted by nothing, not even a smart comeback or a funny joke from the blond. You hesitantly observed his reaction, and saw that he was grim and serious, guilt swimming in his beryl blue eyes.

The realization began to sink in.

Oh.

You should've known from the start. Sanji was a great fighter; he wouldn't be injured in the first place. "Sanji..."

Sanji took your wrist and held on it tightly. Your breath hitched, only then realizing how much you missed his touch, his warm, gentle, and loving touch.

"Let me go." You weakly said, even though deep down, you didn't want him to.

"Tell me you're not in love with me." He said, sounding utterly desperate that it almost made you fall down to your knees, "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

When you didn't answer, he stood up and cupped your cheeks with both of his hands. He pleaded, "Look at me. Look into my eyes and tell me you don't love me."

"Please don't do this." You whispered in pain as you tearfully shook your head.

"Stay. Please, stay." Sanji begged, pressing his forehead against yours, "What can I do to make you stay? Tell me. I'll do anything. Do I need to kneel? To beg for your forgiveness? Tell me what you want. I'll do anything in my power to make you the happiest woman in all of East Blue. Just please, don't leave."

"I can't." You answered, closing your eyes, a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You hate the way he was making this so hard for you.

He only continued, "Hate me, curse me, shout at me, if you must. Anything but you leaving me. Or do you want to make me yours? Then I am letting you. Whatever you want, mon ange—my heart, my soul, my attention, they're all yours. I'm all yours."

"No..."

"The crew will be incomplete without you." Sanji insisted in anguish.

"I have dreams, Sanji. Just like you and the rest of the crew." You explained softly, placing your own hands on top of his in attempt to comfort him and relieve him from his confusion.

However, he was persistent, "You can achieve your dreams without leaving. You can stay, and I will support you in everything you do. You're better off staying with me—with us."

You said firmly, "I will not spend the rest of my life doing what I don't want."

"Even with me by your side?"

A few second pass before you finally reply, "I'd be miserable."

Pain flashed on his face, making you want to take back your own words, yet you remained strong and unyielding. Sanji took a deep breath and stepped away from you, saying, "I'd rather have you miserable here than go out there and encounter ruthless pirates."

The statement quickly irritated you, frowning at him deeply. "You think I'll have problems with pirates when I've been serving them for years?"

"Oh, darling, you wouldn't be able to say that once you've encountered worse ones, with bounties higher than you could ever imagine." He snapped, voice raising with each word.

"I can manage on my own!" You bit back frustratingly, your tears evaporating into anger.

Sanji scowled at you, impatiently running his fingers through his hair. "You can't fight!" He shouted, voice breaking in the process, and with it, your heart too. It shattered like glass and the shards landed and pierced through your lungs, rendering you breathless. Your eyes widened, mouth dropping open in shock.

Seeing your expression, he immediately snapped back to reality, regret writing itself on his face. You shook your head in disbelief and let out a humorless laugh, "Are you telling me that I'm weak?"

"I didn't say that." Sanji quickly said in a hushed manner.

"But you're implying it!" You choked, still can't believe that he doesn't trust you. He doesn't trust you enough to accomplish your dreams on your own, and that he was not confident that you'll succeed without him by your side.

You wanted to ask him about the passionate kiss you two shared, about his loving gestures that confused the hell out of you, about his fresh bruises that he received on purpose so that he can get you to stay, and why he did all of that. You needed confirmation. But the question that left you was, "What am I to you?"

Sanji stayed quiet, and your heart broke again once more. Deciding that this was the last time he breaks it, you walked away and left him alone to tend to his own injuries.

He lit up a cigarette as he listened to your fading footsteps. A single teardrop fell down from his eye the moment he placed the cigarette between his lips, and all he could think about was that you hurt more than the bruises on his cheeks.

You packed your bags and spoke with Nami, telling her that you were ready, and that was the fifth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke—and tomorrow, you'll finally succeed.

⸻ • ⸻

The sun had just risen, and the early morning breeze smelled of the ocean, the calming sound of waves filling your ears. It was one of those days when the sky was clear and the sunlight wasn't harsh but pleasantly warm on your skin, making it the perfect day to start working on a new song and strum on your guitar for the melody.

But today was different. You were standing on the first step of the ship's staircase that leads to a docking station and a wooden walkway towards an unfamiliar island that was soon to be your new home. Your fingers clenched on the strap of your bag, finding this moment to be surreal. You have tried many times to leave, and here it was, right on the palms of your hands.

"So. This is it, huh?" Your trance broke as Nami commented beside you. She was the only one to bid you farewell and watch you leave, since the others were still asleep. You thought of Sanji and how he looked like when he was sleeping, staring at his handsome features so you can memorize them and implant it in your mind. He was your first love; you didn't want to forget him.

You smiled. "Thank you, Nami." You said earnestly, "I would've liked to spend more time with you. It's tiring to speak to men sometimes, don't you think?"

She laughed. "Yeah." Then, she caged you in her arms and hugged you tightly, surprising you for a second before you laughed too and returned the hug. "Stay safe out there."

"I will."

"So you planned to leave? Without saying goodbye?" A new voice interrupted, breaking the hug you and Nami both shared. You swiveled to look behind you, and there stood Sanji, appearing to have just woken up, with the strands of his blond hair sticking up in different directions. You observed his dejected expression, the downward tilt of the corners of his lips, and the glistening of his tired eyes. You stared at his crumpled suit and his crooked necktie. Despite how messy he looked, he will always be perfect to you.

You walked forward and looked at him fondly, with your eyes full of so much love reserved for him and him only. "Thought it would hurt less." You said, raising your hands to touch his hair and brush it down, "And I was right. How can I leave now when you're standing in front of me?"

He sighed shakily as he felt your soft fingers threading through his hair. "Then don't." He whispered. You only smiled at him. He didn't smile back, but that didn't stop you from taking both of his hands and caressing his knuckles using your thumb.

"Every night, I'll look at the moon and think of you. I'll tell my stories, sing my songs, and whisper my secrets to it. Just like what you and me would do when we were little." You told him softly and endearingly, "Would you be so kind as to look at the moon too and think of me?"

Sanji's eyebrows were scrunched together in agony, muttering, "I can't make you stay, can I?"

When you didn't answer, he just nodded his head, understanding what you wanted to stay. He forced a smile and tightly squeezed your hands. "I'm sorry."

"I'm yours." You answered, placing a soft kiss on the back of his hands. After letting your lips linger on his skin for a while, you slowly let go, and with one last glance at his face, you stepped back and made your way downstairs to the docking area, leaving before you could change your mind.

Sanji watched you go. While you walked away from the Going Merry, from the crew, and from him, not once did you look back. He just watched as you went farther away and became smaller in the distance, until you blended in with the crowd and you were just another person in a sea of people. And then you were gone.

It was the sixth time you tried to leave Sanji Vinsmoke, and this time, you finally did.

⸻ • ⸻

The red velvet curtains began to draw in front of you, gently falling back down on the stage as you said your final good-byes to your audience for tonight, a bouquet of roses cradled in your arms while you blew delicate kisses towards them. You can still hear their loud cheering and clapping even as you retreated to your personal room backstage.

A middle-aged woman greeted you inside when you stepped in the room and closed the door behind you, whistling. "There she is, our talented rising star!"

You only laughed at the silly nickname, setting the bouquet of roses that one of the people gave you in tonight's show on top of your vanity table. "You exaggerate, Madam. I have only performed two shows in your beautiful theater."

The madam, who was the owner of the theater you were currently working in, shook her head in disagreement. "And those two shows are sold out!" She informed you proudly, placing her hands on your shoulders, "Let me know if you want to add more, you are welcome to perform here anytime."

"I'll think about it." You replied, smiling. The madam patted your shoulder twice before she left you alone, humming happily to herself. You huffed in amusement, fully aware that she doesn't appreciate your talents at all, but only cared for the money.

Regardless of that, you were happy. It has been a couple of years since you left the Strawhat Pirates and pursued your dreams all on your own, and you've been traveling to different islands across the seas to perform. You never had a permanent home; being a musician meant going to many places from time to time to share and spread out your music.

Yet you can't help but miss life on the sea.

You missed washing dishes on the Baratie and the late night conversations you had with Zeff. You missed Luffy and his weird antics, Usopp and his jokes, Zoro and his blunt comments, and Nami and her kindness.

You missed Sanji and everything that he was.

You stared at your reflection in the vanity mirror on your desk. Your hair was pinned neatly, you had make-up on and you were dressed fancily for your performance. Years ago, you wouldn't look like this. It was hard to believe how much you've grown and changed, but these days, you felt like you wanted your old self back. Slowly, you took the itchy pins off your hair, and cleaned your face with warm water and a cloth. You replaced your dress in a more comfortable one and went outside.

Looking up at the night sky, you saw a bright full moon with no stars in sight. It was just the moon and its beauty, illuminating the pitch black sky with its glow. You silently watched it, a smile growing on your lips as you felt a tug on your heart.

"I wonder what you're up to, Sanji." You thought aloud, cheeks heating up at the memory of your first love and his golden hair and his contagious smiles. Then, to your surprise, a voice spoke unexpectedly.

"Well, I am fortuitous to have met such a beautiful angel."

You froze. No one referred to you as angel except for one.

Sanji.

As you turned around, he was already walking towards you. And there you both were, bathing under the moonlight, with him grinning at you mischievously and you looking at him lovingly. You didn't know how he found you, but what mattered was that he searched for you and now he was here, and he was still making your heart beat fast in your chest just like all those years ago.

How the pesky feelings stayed and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. But maybe it was because he was standing in front of you, and the way his next words made you run into his open arms and kiss him until you were both breathless,

"There you are, ange."

taglist part 1 @angel-luv3r @appalost @chexmixtrys @nimtano @sparklyphantom @natalieisfreeziing @reallysparklychaos @maydaylovex @johnnysactualgf @mochamei @kisumisumi @ttokyocat @mypurplewinee @rosaliinnn @nonniecannie @court-jester-stuff @detectivelucy07 @megumiif @untitledandrandom @erin-the-king @fangeekkk @nikolaevna-art @candesstuff @chaoticevilbakugo

#opla #opla x reader #opla x y/n #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #opla sanji #one piece sanji #one piece live action sanji #sanji live action #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji x reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #angst #one piece sanji x reader #ਏਓ ladadiida

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rcmclachlan · 3 months ago

Text

wind finding

buck/tommy

8x14/8x15 spec fic

I wrote this right before my first morning meeting, so if it's rushed and makes no sense, I'm well aware. Enjoy!

The very second Tommy went with helicopters, people came crawling out of the woodwork to offer their two cents on everything from industry politics (all dangled carrots and empty promises) to what constitutes a good operator (whoever's actually signing your paycheck at the time) to which jobs would bring in the most money (ditching helicopters entirely in favor of planes) to the best ways to manage stress (avoiding utility altogether).

But the one piece of advice Tommy has never forgotten came from one of his first operators in Afghanistan, who had a face like a mountain crag and every word that came out of his mouth had to first find its way around the wad of dip permanently attached to his bottom gums.

"Being able to find the wind is the only skill you need to nail down, or else you're gonna frag out faster'n you can say 'high as bat pussy'. The odds of being able to see the leaves on a fuckin' tree are less'n nothin' out here, never mind spottin' a fuckin' windsock, Kinard. The second you get in the air, you just listen to your bird; she'll tell you point blank where the wind is, so long as you've got your ears on."

Then Warrant Officer Harold hocked a loogie the size of a crow at the ground and stormed away, shouting, "PRIVATE KEATON, IF YOU DON'T STOP FONDLIN' THAT REFUEL PROBE I'M GONNA SHOVE IT IN YOUR DICK HOLE!"

Twenty years later, Tommy's in the cockpit of his favorite AW139 with the mouth of a glock pressed right above his brain stem, and the second he achieves optimal altitude, he finds the wind.

"You make it look so effortless, like it's just something your body does. Like breathing," Evan had said during their one and only legal flight together, like he wasn't furious that Tommy had woken him up at 3:30 in the morning on his day off to go for a joyride. Even as the sun peeked over the horizon to see if the coast was clear, it couldn't hope to match the sheer brightness of Evan's smile.

If being able to find the wind wasn't practically part of his autonomic nervous system at this point in his career, Tommy'd have no business being in the air at all.

"Remember," the guy with the gun, Remo, murmurs into the headset he'd forced Tommy to give him. "Top of the Aon. We're making the switch there."

"Nakatomi Tower would be better for this sort of thing," Tommy mutters.

Instead of being whipped with the gun, the speaker in his ear crackles with Remo's laughter. "I was more partial to the second film."

Tommy grips the cyclic a little tighter. "That's the worst thing you've admitted to so far."

It's not. Bombing multiple police stations was bad enough, but one of them was right next to a school. The last thing that came through the comms before Remo's buddies hacked it was the 118 being called to 309 Lucas Ave in Westlake North for fire containment and emergency medical assistance.

He glances at the dashboard. Tucked right above the radar is a little photo he'd printed out at his local CVS on a whim while he was getting a 'Happy 80th birthday, grandma!" card for Sal. It's barely anything: a portrait forced to inhabit a 4x4 square, so the quality is extra shitty. But the man in it is smiling brighter than a sunrise over the ocean, and Tommy's heart gives a pitiful thud just looking at it.

Melton would've shit a brick if he'd known about it. Despite what Hollywood would have the general populace believe, having pictures of loved ones on a pilot's dashboard can be a hell of a distraction. It goes against LAFD regs.

But having spent the last month reacquainting himself with Evan's smile and the wild hope that they could have a future together, it felt right to tack the photo up. He was professional enough that he wouldn't let it get in the way of the job.

He thinks of Evan watching him from the bed this morning, tangled up in sheets that smelled like the both of them. He thinks of the blurred, sleep-damp smile on Evan's face as Tommy hid the evidence of what they got up to the previous night.

"You're covering up a masterpiece," Evan had said, voice a little blurred with sleep. "That's some of my best work."

"Let me guess: if I connect all the hickeys, it's gonna turn into a dolphin or something?"

Evan had thrown back his head on the pillow and cackled, and Tommy had thought, We could build a life on this.

Except Evan is pulling tiny bodies out of the ruins of Gratts Elementary, Tommy's got a gun to his head, and Remo's little cell of opportunistic assholes are using the bombings across the city to distract from the 51% blockchain hack they pulled off two hours ago. Tommy doesn't understand crypto for the life of him, but what he got from Harbor's newest probie was something something a blockchain’s distributed ledger was changed and double spending was enabled. At the time, it seemed like a lot of bullshit that boiled down to "they now control the invisible internet money conveyor belt," but at least 200 people are dead, and according to Remo, there are still 70 bombs wired and ready to explode on his say-so.

Unless Tommy flies him and his weird, silent friend to the Aon, where someone's going to be waiting to whisk them away to all points nowhere. Tommy knows exactly how this is going to shake out: the second he lands the bird, Remo's going to bury a bullet in Tommy's brain before disappearing into the wind, leaving the world in shambles. But it won't be enough. Remo will get bored before long—the smart, psychotic ones always do—and then pop back up at some point to do even worse if he has the opportunity.

Ten years from now, they'll make a documentary series about all this. Evan will watch it, because he's contractually obligated to seek out things that will hurt him for some reason, and it'll probably be like cutting open a just-healed wound. He'll spiral until Maddie or one of the others forces him to stop. The series will be called something stupid, like Finding Remo.

That is, of course, if Remo has the opportunity.

Swallowing, throat clicking, Tommy glances at the photo on the dashboard. Evan beams at him from where he's posing like the dorkiest Greek god in the pantheon on top of a boulder somewhere on the Temescal Canyon Trail. That had been a good day. It seemed like the start of a lifetime of them.

He looks away and out the windshield where, up ahead, the Aon stands tall against the sky. But standing taller, and closer, is Library Tower.

Exhaling, Tommy keeps his eyes straight. "Listen, you can put the gun away. It's not the threat you think it is."

"No?" Remo presses the glock harder against the back of Tommy's head, and Tommy stifles a wince. "You think I won't shoot you?"

"Oh, I know you're gonna shoot me," Tommy says, almost cheerfully. He refuses to look any closer at that. "I just don't think you're gonna do it while we're hanging 900 feet above the city."

The pause that follows is probably only a second or two, but it feels like a decade. Finally, the press of metal disappears, and Tommy hears the safety clicking back on.

"You seem pretty calm about all this," Remo says, curiosity making his already light voice positively airy.

Tommy shrugs. "Last year I stole one of these to fly some friends into a category 5 hurricane, then landed it on a capsized cruise ship. This? Doesn't even break a 6.5 on my Crazy Shit-o-meter."

Remo laughs, and Tommy hears the tell tale rustling of the gun being holstered. Thankfully the rotors completely drown out the sound of his heart pounding, which would otherwise be audible from space.

"Let me just say that of all the pilots I could've kidnapped, you're by far the most entertaining."

"Thank you," Tommy says seriously.

Below them, the Walt Disney Concert Hall is lit up for the night's show. They'll be passing the BoA Financial Center, and from there it's only a couple of minutes until their destination.

"Hey, uh, since this does end with me getting shot," Tommy ventures, trying to keep a lid on the massive amounts of adrenaline that are being dumped into his bloodstream. He must be visibly vibrating. "Could I... could I make a call?"

Remo snorts. "Let me guess: 9-1-1?"

Okay, that's kind of funny. Tommy cracks a grin. "Not quite. I have someone... I have someone, and there's something important I need to say."

One of the drawbacks of a helicopter's cockpit is there's no rearview mirror, which would really come in handy right now. He has no idea what Remo's face is doing. He has no idea if he's looking at his silent companion and having some kind of wordless conversation, if Remo is the kind of guy who would grant the last wish of someone he's using.

Finally, after what feels like years, Remo says, "You get ten seconds. You'd better make them count."

He's done more with less. "That's fair. But I'm either going to need you to call it for me or let me hook into an open line."

The air inside the helicopter seems to squeeze inward. "An open line?"

"My... my boyfriend's LAFD." He bites down on the inside of his cheek as they pass the BoA Center on the left, and hopes against all hope that Remo isn't too much of a homophobe to deny the request.

But surprise, surprise. Remo only laughs and says, "How romantic. Urs, get him on an open line to his firefighter boyfriend. It's the least we can do after everything he's done to help us."

Tommy can't see what Urs is doing, but his headset crackles with the familiar static of a live comms line.

"Ten seconds," Remo reminds him. Below them, the roof of Library Tower seems both miles away and impossibly close.

It's all he needs.

"This is LAFD pilot Tom Kinard. Evan Buckley, if you're listening, look in the drawer to the right of the microwave. There's something in there for you." He quietly undoes his harness and kills the engine. "It's yours. It's always been yours."

Just as the AW139 is about to clear the roof of the tower, Tommy shoulders open the door and kicks off into the sky.

The wind is blowing southeast.

"N-No, no, no, hey, it's okay, don't fight it, you're okay—hey, I need some help in here! He's waking up! Tommy, they're going to take it out, just wait."

There's a tree trunk growing out of his throat, but trying to move it is impossible, and the effort takes everything out of him. So he gives up, gagging and drifting in and out, then decides to just climb the entire length of the tree to get a look at the view. From there, it's just a matter of finding the wind and floating away with it.

The next time he surfaces, there's something hard over his face, warm and humid, and when the clouds clear from his vision he's able to see two things: Evan's wide-eyed expression of relief, and a giant orange poster board in Lucy's familiar, blocky handwriting that says 2 DAYS SINCE KINARD LAST TAUNTED GOD.

There's a 1 in front of the 2, but it's crossed out.

"Hey!" Evan breathes, and the mattress at Tommy's hip dips a little under his weight. "H-Hey, there you are. Morning! Well, not, uh, morning exactly—it's like 8 o'clock at night—but you're awake!"

"I am." It's muffled by the oxygen mask.

"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?" Evan leans in, blocking Tommy's view of anything else. He hasn't shaved in a bit, and the hair at his temples looks a little greasy. He's the most gorgeous thing Tommy's ever laid eyes on.

"No pain," Tommy rasps. "M'body's full'f cotton."

Evan smiles a little. "Yeah, they've got you on the good stuff. I can't tell you how many bones you've broken, because it seems like they're still finding them. The doctor did say he'd never seen a pneumothorax quite like yours before, though. He keeps bringing other doctors in to look at your scans. I think a couple of them cancelled their surgeries so they could watch yours yesterday. You're like a celebrity. You've got, like, four tubes in you sucking the excess air out."

For a second, Tommy has no idea what he's talking about. Pneumothorax? How'd he manage that? Lucy's gonna give him shit for the next year.

Then, like a breeze kicking up from the west, it all comes sweeping in. Something starts beeping a little erratically. "Did—did he... he didn't... did... R-Remo...?"

The words are slow and thick, like they have to climb over the broken branches the tree had left behind, but understanding lights up Evan's face almost immediately. He thinks Evan must be holding his hand, because there's pressure on his fingers that feels like it's coming from another room.

"He didn't," Evan says softly, but there's a sparkle of brutal satisfaction in his eyes that Tommy can't look away from. "The helicopter went down like a sack of bricks after you ditched it. It took out the coffee shop in the library. Before you ask: they close at 2:30, so no one had been in there for hours. No one was hurt. Except, well, what's his name."

Tommy closes his eyes and breathes in the canned, almost metallic stuff they're feeding him through the mask. It's so pure, it makes him a little dizzy.

"Good." His sinuses prickle hotly. "Good. That's..."

"Hey, hey, shhh," Evan coos, and Tommy opens his eyes just in time to see Evan press his mouth lushly to the curve of the oxygen mask. Despite whatever they're giving him, Tommy's lips ache with the need to feel that kiss.

"Evan," he whispers.

When he pulls back, Evan's got a wide, almost gleeful grin tugging the corners of his mouth to his ears. He looks like he's about to blow up a Gotham City school bus to try and draw out Batman. Instead, he lifts his left hand.

The lights in the room are low, so the ring on Evan's finger doesn't really glint as brightly as it should, but the light in Evan's eyes is almost blinding.

"Drawer to the right of the microwave, huh?" He laughs a little, like it's bubbling out of him, like he can't stop it. "How long had that been in there?"

It takes a moment for Tommy to pick through the cobwebs in his brain. "Mm... got it... after we did that flight over... hm... Channel Islands."

Evan stares at him, then his bubbly laughter morphs into maniacal cackling.

Tommy glances down at his hands to see if they gave him a button for the pain meds he's on. He's going to dilaudid himself into oblivion.

"That was four months into..." Evan uses their joined hands to wipe away the tears beading on his lashes. "When I asked you to move in, you ran away so fast you left a trail of dust behind you. But you bought an engagement ring four months into dating me?"

"In my defense," Tommy says, suddenly very jealous of Remo for dying a fiery death in the LA Library coffee shop. "I knew... you were it for me. You, on the other hand, had no idea... hm... what you wanted. Asking me... to move in wasn't—it wasn't about me."

Pursing his lips, Evan ducks his head and doesn't deny it, but when he tilts his chin up, the only thing on his face is bare, earnest truth. "I knew I wanted you, Tommy, any way I could have you. I didn't know what that looked like, and not knowing made me... I don't know if you've noticed, but I tend to cling when I panic."

Tommy thinks back over the last month—how every time he showed up on Eddie's doorstep, Evan practically threw himself at Tommy, clutching at him like he was afraid Tommy might go back down the walkway and leave; how getting up to take a piss or grab a Gatorade meant leaving the bed, and the look on Evan's face every time was like watching a car crash—and squeezes Evan's hand. He thinks he does, at least.

"Do you... know what it looks like now?" It takes almost all his strength to get the words out. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him, and he pinwheels a little with it. Kicking his way back to the surface takes concentration.

Evan lifts his hand again. The ring fits his finger perfectly. "It looks like you, about to fall asleep."

Another wave bowls him over, and he fights to keep his eyes open. Lucy's stupid poster blurs like someone's upturned a can of Sprite over it.

"I'll be here when you wake up, and so will half the LAPD and a bunch of people from the FBI. You're the hero of the day," Evan murmurs, and Tommy grumbles a little. "But, hey, Tommy. Before you—how did you know? How'd you know I was it for you?"

Even as he's being pulled down into the dark, he looks up, and he sees the surface roiling, dancing with the light of an old sunrise that couldn't hold a candle to the phenomenon of Evan Buckley's smile.

"Found th' wind," Tommy mumbles, drifting down, down, down. "'s easy. Like breathing."

#i wrote this directly into the tumblr text box like i had nothing to lose and it shows #bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #911 spec fic #rc's 911 fics

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miniseokminnies · 4 months ago

Text

the subtle art of stirring the pot —- l.sm

⭑.ᐟ pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader ⭑.ᐟ theme: coworkers to lovers, annoyances to lovers, sous chef!seokmin ⭑.ᐟ w/c: 9k ⭑.ᐟ warnings: 18+ MDNI, mentions of food, stressful work environment, insults, jealousy, switch!seokmin, switch!reader, semi public make outs, protected sex (that's a yes yes), marking, fingering, multiple orgasms, slight angst, miscommunications ⭑.ᐟ a/n: written as part of the Lonely Hearts Café collab put on by @camandemstudios - make sure to check out the full collab masterlist here send over some love! (haha get it) thanks a million to my lovely beta readers: @tomodachiii and @lovetaroandtaemin and a special shoutout to @seungkw1 for betaing and overall keeping me sane

Ring ring ring

The chaos of a kitchen is only aided by the sound of orders being put in. Saturdays are statistically the busiest days of the week, and being a restaurant in New York City, Quartz and Serenity is no exception. You had been frantically chopping carrots for the better part of an hour.

“Y/N!” The head chef called out to you, “Go get more mushrooms, chicken, and sherry for me please.” Without another word you jogged toward the walk in refrigerator to retrieve the ingredients. The last few years you’ve spent in this kitchen has allowed you to map it all out to a science, which in a way it was. You felt like a part of this well oiled machine and you handled the pressure with ease.

You piled the ingredients in your arms and pushed out of the walk in. You began to unpack the items on the counter next to the chef. He instructed you to take them out of their packages and begin chopping them for him. While the dinner service ran smoothly, there was an air of stress that always comes with being short staffed. You always pulled it off though, and tonight was no different.

The moment you crossed from the hallway into your apartment, you dropped your bag to the floor and kicked off your shoes. You smelled like grease and sweat. The apartment was bathed in the yellow light above your stove you left on this morning. There were dishes in the sink and cook books stacked up around the kitchen.

Sighing, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. You dropped your chef’s coat into the laundry pile and waited for the water to get warm. Once hot, the water ran over you, loosening your tight muscles. You stood in the stall staring at the wall for several minutes, mind wandering to what ingredients you had in your refrigerator and whether or not you should just order something.

The water sputtered and threatened to turn cold all too quickly. You rushed through your routine, savoring the last few drops of warm water. It went straight from warm to ice cold in seconds as you were rinsing your conditioner out of your hair.

Clad in pajamas, you stared into the boiling water on the stove. You dumped probably too much pasta into the water and turned to the other burner. You mixed together ingredients in a pan over the fire to make a sauce. This was a typical meal for you after manning the kitchen at Quartz and Serenity because it was easy and not on the menu.

No matter how much you enjoyed cooking, you always tended to get tired of the food that you worked around all day. Customer complaints and repetitive pressure did that to you. You wouldn’t change a thing though, this is what you loved.

“Everyone!” You heard the booming voice of the head chef call through the kitchen, “I have someone to introduce you to!” The staff and yourself meandered to the center of the kitchen where Chef Choi was standing with a man you didn’t recognize. He was around your age, maybe a bit older. His features were so striking, you almost missed the chef’s coat he was wearing.

“This is Chef Lee,” your boss smiled, clapping the man on the back, “He is our new sous chef!” You didn’t hear anything he said after that, you felt like the walls were closing in on you. You could feel eyes on you but you stared straight ahead. You could feel your jaw tighten as you bored a hole into Chef Lee’s stupid head with your eyes.

Once you were dismissed back to your stations to prepare for dinner service you saw him hovering near your station out of the corner of your eye.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh!” He smiled sheepishly. “I just wanted to introduce myself to everyone individually! You can call me Seokmin.” “Okay, can I get back to what I need to do, Chef Lee?” You looked back to your knife.

“Uh, sure…what is your name first?”

“Y/N.” You gestured to the nametag pinned to your coat. He nodded and wandered away towards the wait staff. You rolled your eyes.

Throughout the night you were tasked with showing your new coworker the way things run at Quartz and Serenity and much to your displeasure, he was very excited to be there. Every so often he gave you room to breathe by floating around the kitchen, observing everything. However, everytime he returned to your side you thought you might punch him.

Somehow you made it through the dinner service. It wasn’t your turn to clean up the kitchen tonight so you bolted to the bus station as fast as possible. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone, knowing that you might get sucked into doing something with your coworkers.

Once on the bus you check your class schedule on your phone, only to realize with horror that you have a test tomorrow. Your stomach turned with the dread of having to be up all night studying, again.

—-

“Need any help with anything?” Seokmin’s sickly sweet voice offered at your side.

“No.” You were already on edge today, you made it through your test by the skin of your teeth and your professor made that abundantly clear. You had no time, or patience, for him right now.

“I saw you prep yesterday, I could do part of that for you,” he pushed.

“No thank you, Chef Lee.” You asserted through gritted teeth. “I would ask Chef Choi if I were you.” He slinked away like a kicked puppy while you continued chopping vegetables. It’s not your fault that he is completely out of his element and didn’t know what he was doing.

However, when orders came pouring in you noticed that his confidence seemed to double from last night. He was able to keep up with different elements, even without knowing the recipes very well yet.

The kitchen was louder than it had been in months, the new addition to your team taking it upon himself to fill the room with music, from his own mouth, to your dismay. You weren’t sure how much of his relentless optimism you could take, especially today. He floated around the kitchen with a carelessness that you would never be able to comprehend.

To your horror, at the end of the night Chef Choi announced that tonight was the most efficient night the restaurant has had in several weeks.

“You’re singing.” You deadpanned without looking up from the vegetables on your cutting board.

“Y/NNNNN” Seokmin mused, “How was your dayyy?”

“Don’t ask me how I’ve been.” You forced your knife through a carrot, “Just do your job, and stop singing.” There were exactly three seconds of silence before Seokmin moved from singing to humming. You slammed your knife down onto the cutting board. “I’m taking a five!” You huffed and turned toward the walk-in. Seokmin stopped humming.

The tears started as soon as the door closed behind you. Your back slid down the wall, the coldness biting through your clothes. It was stupid to cry, but you couldn’t help it; he was so infuriating. You had no idea what Chef Choi saw in him. The tears sliding down your cheeks smudged the swipe of mascara you put on this morning? Yesterday? Couldn’t have been more than two days ago…

The door opened.

“So, what’s up?” Seokmin asked softly, leaning against the wall next to you.

“Oh my god!” You cried, “Can’t you leave me alone for a single second?”

“I did,” he blinked at you, “If I had it my way, I would’ve followed right away.”

“I’m in here because of you!” Your voice cracked, a new bout of tears threatening to spill, “I would have loved it if you didn’t come in at all!”

“Well….technically, I’m…kind of your boss.”

“God, ew, no not really,” you scrunched your face in a look of disgust, “Chef Choi is our boss.”

“Y/N, what did I ever do to you?”

“The kitchen ran smoothly without you!” You informed him, “Everything was fine without you!”

“Now wait a minute,” there was an edge to his voice that you had never heard before, “I have never messed anything up.”

“Well–”

“No,” he cut you off, “Seriously, you may not like how I operate, that’s fine, but you aren’t going to sit here and tell me that I’m a problem in this kitchen.” His words were firm but it was hard to miss the tears swelling in his eyes.

“This is serious to me.” You hardened your gaze.

“And it isn’t to me?”

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“God,” He sighed. “Y/N, maybe this can be a lesson for you. No one is ever going to do things exactly as you expect them to. That doesn’t mean they’re wrong.” He stood up to leave.

“You can’t just walk away after you talked down to me!” You shot to your feet. “You think I’m some dumb kid!” He turned to look at you, you chose to ignore the glimmer of a tear on his cheek. “I’m at the top of my class! I know what I’m doing!”

“What are you trying to prove?” His voice rose now too, “I never said you didn’t know what you were doing! Do you want me to?” You blinked at him. “You couldn’t even julienne the carrots today! Why? All because I was singing?” He wiped the tear away from his skin angrily. He moved toward you and crowded you against the wall. The proximity forced you to look up at him, his face was stone. “What’s your problem with me, Y/N?” He whispered, looking down his nose at you. The cold of the refrigerator made the warm breath fanning across your cheeks even harder to ignore.

“We have a kitchen to get back to…” You tried to avoid looking at his lips.

“You don’t think I’m serious about this,” he planted his hand on the wall next to your head, “So does it matter if I get back to that kitchen?”

“You said I didn’t know what I’m doing! So I guess the kitchen doesn’t need either of us at this point!” You jutted your chin up defiantly. He chuckled sarcastically.

“You’re being so ridiculous right now, are you like this with every new hire?”

“No, only the ones I find irritating,” and incredibly attractive, your thoughts wandered. Rookie mistake, your eyes flit to his lips before you had time to think. When your eyes returned to his he was looking at you, absolutely bewildered. Then, in one swift motion he smashed his lips to yours. The way he kissed you was just as angry as the way he was talking to you moments ago; his lips moved with a fervor that was almost malicious.

Your fingers found the front of his chef’s coat, you attempted to pull him closer. He whined into your mouth at the feeling of being wanted. The sound awakened something in you and heat settled in your stomach. You shifted your weight trying to ignore it. Seokmin nudged you with his knee until you parted your legs slightly for him to slot his thigh between. He was firm and muscular pressed against your core and it took everything in you to not rock against it.

With a jolt you remembered where you were and who you were with. You pushed against his chest until he moved away from you. Eyes wide and cheeks flushed, Seokmin seemed as though he realized the same thing.

“Come out when you're ready,” he nodded and left the walk-in without looking back. You tightened your ponytail and took a deep breath before following him out. You returned to your station and picked up the knife you abandoned before the ordeal. “Thin as matchsticks, Y/N.” Seokmin reminded you through kiss-bruised lips.

“Table 13 sends its compliments to the chef!” Soonyoung comes barreling into the kitchen carrying plates to deposit into the wash.

“That was the last table right?” Seokmin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yup!” Soonyoung popped the “P” and punctuated the exclamation by dumping the dishes he was carrying into the sink. You had the day off and Seokmin felt the pressure of your absence throughout the entire day.

The encounter he had with you was heavy on his mind all day, the first day he’s spent in this kitchen without you by his side. He still couldn’t figure out what it was that he could have possibly done to you in the short time you’ve worked together.

“Hey Soonyoung?” He called without thinking. Soonyoung turned to him with a questioning look on his face. “You’ve been here a while right?” “Yeah, why?” Soonyoung reached around Seokmin and grabbed at the carrots, earning him a slap on the hand. He winced and pulled his hand to his chest.

“Can you think of any reason Y/N would dislike me?”

“Hm? Y/N?” Soonyoung mumbled, “Oh! The scary one. Yeah I try not to talk to her much.”

“Because she scares you?” “Because she scares me.” Soonyoung nodded.

“She wanted your job.” One of the waitresses, Jeongyeon, asserted from the doorway. Seokmin switched his attention to her, almost begging her to clarify. She sighed and adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “She’s about to graduate, the position was vacant for so long that she was under the impression that Chef Choi had decided to hold it for her.” Seokmin moved across the kitchen to beg her to tell him everything.

“Why would she assume that?” He pleaded.

“You have no idea how long your position was vacant, do you?” She turned to leave, “She was acting as unofficial sous chef for almost a year. In her opinion there’s no reason she shouldn’t have your job by now, diploma or not.” He looked down at the floor. "Oh, and stop looking at her with those puppy dog eyes, she'll chop your fingers off."

Eventually, Seokmin dragged himself home. His apartment felt too big, too empty. He wished he could stop thinking about you, if he was honest. He stared into his pantry and quickly decided he had no desire to actually cook. He popped an instant ramen into the microwave and went to go change his clothes.

The microwave was beeping four minutes later, he pulled the cup out and narrowly avoided burning his hand on the outside. He set the ramen on the counter and dug through the refrigerator in search of something to drink. There was not a lot to be found, besides a full pack of wine coolers he bought weeks ago in hopes he could invite some people from work over to celebrate working together, clearly that never happened.

About two hours later, Seokmin was crying to the credits of Dear Evan Hansen with five empty wine coolers on his coffee table and a sixth to his lips. Whether he was crying over the movie or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure.

He still couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to you, he had new information to mull over, but he still couldn’t understand why you hated him. He would’ve talked it over with you if you just came to him with the issue instead of giving him the silent treatment. Even worse, he couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of your lips on his.

Your lips and the warmth of your body against his had been running through his mind since it happened. He continued to sip from the bottle as he thought about you. He admired you in a way, so headstrong and willing to go after what you wanted, even if that got him yelled at. He didn’t really care, he realized you were pretty even when you were insulting him.

Soon the bottle was empty and Seokmin’s eyes were closed thinking about your mouth. He knew he would never live it down if you knew, but that didn’t stop him from delivering the soft initial touches over his shorts. Eventually pulling them down, letting his semi hard cock spring free, and pumping himself until he was stiff.

His voice surprised him, sounding foreign to his ears, whispering your name to his empty apartment. Everything became muffled as he heard the blood rushing in his ears, he felt his own hips sputter and he picked up his pace, fucking up into his hand. He thought about the pretty way you said his name with an edge to your voice and he was quickly undone.

You pushed the french fries around in the basket, the parchment paper soaking up the grease they left behind. You barely got three bites into your burger before you felt sick again and resorted to just pretending to eat. Maybe an entire bottle of wine to yourself last night and sleeping until 1 pm was not your best idea, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

You checked the time, you have to be at work in a little over an hour, and you knew you had to eat something for your stomach to stop swirling. You sighed and picked up the burger again, and took a bite. Your body tried to protest but eventually you felt your stomach calming, thankful to have food. You laid your head back onto the back of the booth and closed your eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths.

“Rough night?” You cracked an eye open to see Seokmin standing over you, a basket matching yours in hand. “Me too,” he lifted his basket in a gesture of comradery. “May I sit?” You nodded, not having the energy to argue with him over it. You sat up and studied his face briefly. He had bags under his eyes like you, his hair was more askew than normal, and he was wearing the biggest hoodie you had ever seen.

“What got you so hung up?” You asked, selecting another fry from your basket.

“Oh,” he didn’t look at you, “I just have a lot on my mind, you?”

“You.” His eyes snapped to you, clearly surprised by your boldness.

“What?” He sputtered around a mouthful of his burger.

“I’m sure this isn’t the first time you’ve annoyed someone to the point of drowning in alcohol.”

“I mean, maybe,” he dropped the burger into the basket, “but no one has ever been so bold as to tell me outright…”

“Are you pouting right now?” Seokmin crossed his arms over his chest at your words, once again refusing to look at you. “See!” You scoff, “this is what I mean, you get everything you want and when someone calls you out on your bullshit you can’t handle it!” You pushed your food away from you with a huff.

“I get everything I want?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “You know I graduated from culinary school, just like you’re about to?” He leaned his elbows on the table, getting closer to you. “I worked hard to get where I am, and I was hired because I come highly complimented from previous bosses.”

“What is this? Your resume?”

“Let me show you, come to dinner with me on Thursday, we both have the day off”

“So you can brag?”

“No,” he cracked a smile. “So we can get to know each other better, and maybe put this behind us.”

You stared up at the facade of the restaurant. This building had been your dream for years, since you moved to the city. Now, because of Seokmin, you were able to dine here? It almost doesn't seem fair.

“Hey!” Seokmin’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “Sorry I’m late; I hope you weren’t waiting long!” You turned to him and shook your head. “Oh good, shall we?” He ushered you inside, lightly touching the small of your back. You tried to ignore the feeling in your stomach at the small gesture.

Once inside, he let his hand drop but stayed close to you. He leaned around you to speak to the man at the host stand. “Table for two, the name Lee should be on your list?” The man flipped through a few sheets of paper before stopping to read through a short list of names. Seokmin’s hand returned to your back, pushing you to follow the man through the restaurant.

The decor was almost enough to distract you from the warmth of Seokmin spreading through your body as he pressed his hand against you more firmly. The ornate light fixtures bathed the room in a soft light, making everything feel more dreamlike and romantic.

Seokmin pulled out your chair for you as the host was informing the two of you that a waiter would be with you soon. As Seokmin took his seat, you had a moment to take him in. You had never seen him wearing anything besides his chef’s coat. He had the sleeves of his collared shirt rolled up, showing off his watch and his toned arms.

“See anything you like?”

“What?” Your eyes widened, and a blush creeped up your cheeks. He pushes a menu towards you.

“Anything?” He smiles, choosing not to bring attention to your obvious staring. You shoved your face into the menu and began to study it intently. After a few minutes of silence the waiter provided glasses of water and a promise to return in a few minutes to take your orders. You laid your menu flat on the table and looked up at Seokmin.

“What do you like?” You asked sheepishly. He chuckled to himself and set his menu down.

“Well,” he pointed at the wine selection, “I was going to order us wine. Do you like white or red?”

“White, usually,”

“Okay, so,” he looked at you over his glasses, “you know enough about wine pairings to know what dishes a white wine rules out.” You nodded. “They have a lovely creamy pumpkin penne dish that pairs nicely with chardonnay, and we could share a brie sampler for an appetizer?”

“Honestly, that sounds wonderful,” you smile at him. You let him order everything for the two of you. He lets the silence linger for a few minutes while you wait for your wine. Once the glasses are poured, and he’s confident no one will bother you for a while, he breaks the silence he crafted.

“You’re much more shy outside of the kitchen,” he observed.

“I’m out of my depth,” you admitted quietly. He raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his wine, inviting you to go on. “I’ve been waiting to eat here since I moved to New York, and you just happen to have your name permanently on the list?”

“I know the chef,” he muttered into his wine.

“I know how highly qualified you are,” you informed him, “you’re experienced out of the ears and I’m just some kid in culinary school.”

“Well,” he tipped his glass forward to clink it with yours, “you can legally drink, so you’re not a kid.” He watched you smile, “And for what it’s worth, I think you’re really talented.”

“Oh don’t say stuff like that to me,” you rolled your eyes and picked up your wine glass, “You might get me to come around to you.”

“Oh God forbid, we can’t have that.”

“Where’s Y/N?” Seokmin was frantically moving through the kitchen. “Dinner service starts in 40 minutes, why aren’t any of you telling me where Y/N is?”

“She’s in the dining room, damn…”

Seokmin knew that you closed the restaurant last night, opened this morning, and the two of you were closing together tonight. So, when he found you asleep in a booth in the dining room, he wasn’t surprised. You often used the few hours Quartz and Serenity was closed between breakfast and dinner to catch up on studying.

Your head was resting on your arms, your ponytail was loose and strands of hair were falling in your face. He reached to brush them away from your eyes but stopped short when he read the papers under your hand. Application for Employment. He read it over and over with his hand hovering above your head. He felt his stomach drop so fast he was afraid it would fall out of his ass.

Taking a deep breath he let his hand settle on top of your head. He rubbed your hair softly with his thumb for a few moments, hoping that you would wake up. When you didn’t stir, he moved his hand to your shoulder and shook you lightly.

“Y/N,” he leaned closer to you. Your eyes opened slowly. “Hey,” he smiled, “dinner service starts in 30. I would let you sleep, but we need the table.” You jolted upright at his words, knocking his hand back to his side.

“In 30?!” You began to shuffle your papers back into the folder and snapped your book closed, “why didn’t anyone grab me sooner?” Seokmin didn’t have time to answer before you were breezing past him toward the kitchen. He watched you until you disappeared into the back room, agonizing over what he would do if you actually left Quartz and Serenity.

The entire dinner service was spent the same way, Seokmin becoming flustered when you assisted him. If he was being honest with himself, he would be impressed with how easily you were able to bounce back to routine. It was almost as if the hiccup from before didn’t even happen.

You moved through this kitchen like you’ve been in it your entire life, Seokmin truly could not imagine this place without you. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he didn’t want this kitchen to run without you. But you deserved to run a restaurant in his opinion. He wanted you to call the shots and to be successful, even if that meant he and Chef Choi would be competing against you after your graduation. Then it hit him; he also wanted to be selfish and hide you away for himself.

“Can’t you move any faster?” You shoved a soapy dish towards Seokmin. The two of you were the only people left in the building after a successful Sunday. You were eager to get home and sleep after the worst lineup of shifts. You picked up a shift from a coworker because you desperately needed the money, but you didn’t think ahead to how your bones would ache after it all.

“If you would rinse the soap off I could,” he sighed. He pulled the faucet head toward the dish in your hand, spraying you lightly with the water.

“Seokmin!” You squealed in annoyance. Grabbing the faucet back from him, you angled it towards him. The water rolled off his exposed forearms, his coat sleeves long pushed up over his elbows. He raised an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge. He plunged his hands into the sink filled with soapy water and splashed it up onto your coat.

It wasn’t like you to sink to his level. Any other day, you would put a stop to this, get the dishes done, and go straight home. However, you’re not stupid and didn’t miss a single look in your direction through the entire day. Seokmin looked at you like a lovesick puppy everytime. Something about those looks lit a fire in your belly, and you didn’t care to find out if it was anger or interest.

So, you followed suit. You cupped your hands around a gaggle of bubbles, lifted it high above your head and smoothed the soap into his dark hair. He stood motionless for a moment, looking down at you in disbelief as his hair dripped onto the floor. Finally, he swiped his hands through his wet hair, slicking it back and exposing his forehead. Somehow it seemed like his features became more sharp and striking with his hair pushed away. Your eyes followed the sharp slope of his nose down to his lips and back to his dark eyes.

He moved toward you quietly. The tension hung thick in the air. He cupped your jaw with his wet hands, eventually moving to thread suds through your ponytail. Any part of him that thought he might kiss you was dampened by the water you suddenly hurled out of the sink at that exact moment. He yelped and moved away from you.

“We have dishes to finish, Chef Lee.” You smirked. The dishes in question were finished and dried in complete silence. The water and the clattering of the glass were the only sounds in the room.

“Let me take you home,” Seokmin broke the silence.

“What?” You gaped at him.

“No…” A blush creeped up his neck, “not like that. You take the bus, right?” You nodded at him. “You’re all wet, just let me drive you to your place.”

“You don’t have to do that…”

“I know,” he smiled sheepishly, “but I want to, please?”

Somehow, he convinced you. You were panicked, too panicked to even make fun of him for being the kind of person who lived in New York City and owned a car. He passed his phone over to you and instructed you to put your address into the maps app.

The ride was silent, your leg bounced as you watched the location get closer and closer. You nearly threw yourself out of the car when he parked in front of the building.

“Bye! See you Tuesday!” You blurted as you ran towards the lobby of the building. Seokmin waved, confused, at the back of your head.

“You need to stop telling people you live here.” The front desk attendant deadpanned.

“I know, Jane,” you ducked to spy out the window.

“Who is it this time? Bad date?” Jane was used to you showing up in her lobby every few weeks at this point. You were lucky that she loved to gossip or else she would have banned you from the building months ago.

“Ugh, no,” you watched Seokmin’s car pull away from the curb, “My coworker.”

“Why do you care if your coworker knows where you live?”

“Honestly?” You stood up and moved toward her desk, “I’m not sure…”

“Hm,” she holds out a lollipop to you, “might want to unpack that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you unwrap the candy and pop it into your mouth, “whatever.” You exit the building with a wave and begin the short walk to your actual apartment.

“Red wine this time.” Seokmin declared as you slid into your chair.

“Feeling bold today are we?”

“Well,” he chuckled, “It’s a steakhouse, so we have to pair correctly!” This was the second installment of what Seokmin had started calling Seokmin's Surely Spectacular Suggestions . You were starting to realize that he knows a lot more than you thought he did. He always seemed to know someone at every restaurant, if not multiple people.

“Oh my god!” A woman’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked up and the waitress was smiling at Seokmin. “It is so nice to see you!”

“Oh!” Seokmin smiled widely at her, “I didn’t think you worked on Thursdays!”

“Ugh!” She put her hand on her hip, “I don’t usually! Dosie needed the day off and as a good friend I took the shift.” She laughed and rolled her eyes. You watched Seokmin’s face contort into a laugh. Something panged in your chest watching them laugh together. Suddenly, you were extremely interested in the menu in front of you as you tried not to think about what that could possibly mean. Seokmin and the waitress chatted for several more minutes before she bounced away. She never looked in your direction the entire time she was at the table.

“Ordered us wine, hope that’s okay.” Seokmin knocked on the table in front of you to get your attention. You hummed affirmatively. “What’s wrong? Have you decided you hate me again?”

“No,” You didn’t look at him. You felt him stare at you from across the table, you held strong and did not look up from the menu. It didn’t matter that you had read the words 8 oz wagyu beef steak and garlic potatoes six times, you couldn’t look at him.

The same waitress from earlier came back with your wine and a basket of bread. She placed everything down on the table and turned to Seokmin again.

“Are you ready to order?” She smiled.

“No, we need a few minutes.” You snapped before you had time to stop yourself. Seokmin shifted his gaze to you.

“Oh, uh…okay.” The waitress blinked at you and turned on her heel without a second look.

“What was that?” Seokmin was looking at you like you had grown a second head at some point in the last thirty seconds.

“Nothing, she was pushy.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“No she wasn’t.”

“She was!” You finally looked at him, he looked like a confused puppy, “You just didn’t see it because she was flirting with you.”

“What are you talking abo–” His face contorted into a smirk, “Are you jealous?” He dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” You declared, pushing out of your chair. You all but stomped all the way to the bathroom, mentally cursing yourself for being jealous in the first place. A hand encircled your wrist as you turned the corner to the hallway that housed the bathrooms. You turned to find Seokmin latched on to you. He pulled you into the bathroom and locked the door behind you. Looking him up and down he looked almost as shocked at his own actions as you felt.

“Were you jealous?” He whispered, “I have to know, because if you don’t tell me it’ll eat me alive for the rest of my life.” You couldn’t help but think he was being just a little dramatic. You slotted your hand into the hair on the back of his head and pulled his lips to yours anyway.

It took him a few moments to respond properly. When his brain caught up to what was happening he kissed you back hungrily. His lips moved roughly and he wrapped his arms around your waist. He pulled you as close as possible and swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You deepened the kiss and allowed him to explore further with his tongue.

Seokmin had a way of putting every emotion he was feeling into his actions, it was evident when he kissed you angrily weeks ago, and it was evident now. It felt like weeks of anger and bickering had melted off the two of you and now what was left was want and attraction that was left unsaid.

He detached himself from your mouth and moved to kiss over your pulse point. You squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back to give him better access. Experimentally, he sucked gently on the skin below your ear, earning him a quiet moan. He did it again.

“Let’s go home,” he panted into your skin. “Please.”

“Seokmin we’ve only had wine,” you whispered

“I’ll make you pizza at home, I don’t care, I just need you.” He whined.

—-

Seokmin fumbled with the key to his apartment, his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. Finally, he unlocked the door and ushered you inside. You tried not to think about the fact that his apartment was about double the size of yours. He kissed you again once he had the door locked and you both inside. His hands found your hips and he pulled you closer as he was licking into your mouth. He tasted like wine, the same one you knew was on your lips as well.

“You owe me pizza, Chef Lee..” You whispered, breaking away from his desperate mouth.

“Oh my god, Y/N,” he groaned, “I can make pizza with my eyes closed.” His confidence was attractive, it was rare for him to be cocky like that.

“You didn’t buy me dinner, and I’m a lady.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes before grabbing and lifting you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his trim waist. You yelped in surprise, you had no idea he could do that. He plopped you down on the kitchen island and moved to the other countertop. You watched as he rolled out pizza dough. His arm muscles bulged as he put in effort to flatten it. “Not even homemade dough?” You teased, “Some chef!”

He sent you a glare out of the corner of his eye, but the blush creeping up his neck gave him away. Suddenly it clicked, “oh my god, do you get turned on when I’m mean to you?” You smirked.

“Shut up…” Seokmin muttered while opening the pizza sauce.

“Well…better hurry that prep…” You smiled wickedly, spreading your legs. Seokmin glanced over at you and nearly moaned at the sight of your panties under your dress. He frantically pressed the buttons to preheat the oven. Once the pizzas were ready to be put in the oven he slotted himself between your legs and captured your lips once more.

You guided his hand to your breast and encouraged him to squeeze. He placed his other hand on your exposed thigh. He trailed his fingers slowly up and up towards your center until the oven beeped. He groaned and ran over to place the pans in the oven and set the timer.

“Take your pants off.” You stated simply when he turned back to you. He nodded and stumbled out of his jeans, the thin fabric of his briefs left little to the imagination as he was hard by this point. He moved toward you and you ran a hand over his clothed cock, he hissed at the contact.

“One second,” He blurted before disappearing down the hall. You contemplated touching yourself while he was gone, but he returned in a rush before you had the chance. He wiggled a small foil package in his fingers to show you why he left.

“Who said you could hit?”

“I–well I just figured…”

“I was about to start without you just now, I could still do that.” You could tell that Seokmin was weighing his options, knowing it would be so hot to see you get yourself off, but needing the feeling of being inside you.

“No, no!” He sputtered, “I got you!” You grabbed his wrist and moved his hand to your clothed cunt.

“Prove it.”

He started slowly, the pads of his fingers circling your clit through your panties. His lips attached to the sensitive skin below your ear. He kissed the skin slowly, letting his teeth graze your neck every so often. He hooked his thumbs under your underwear and pulled them off gingerly, letting them flutter to the floor.

He ran his fingers through your folds, savoring the wetness there just for him. Experimentally he slipped a finger inside, earning him an arch of your back and a sound so delicious it could be the only thing he heard for the rest of his life and he would be happy.

“C’mere,” he grunted, his voice deeper than you had ever heard it. He moved you to the edge of the counter and inserted a second finger. You couldn’t help but rock your hips against his ruminations. He reached that delicious spot inside of you and you felt yourself hurtling off the cliff. “You talk a big game, but you’re so desperate for me.” Seokmin snaked his free hand over his cock, teasing himself as he finger fucked you into an orgasm.

Once you came back to Earth he slowly removed his fingers. Before he had the chance to wash them off, you took his hand and guided his fingers into your mouth. He watched with wonder as your tongue swirled around his digits, cleaning them. You pulled them out, a string of saliva connecting you to him.

“Who’s desperate now?” You breathed watching him continue to tease himself over his briefs.

“Can I please fuck you?” He whined. You helped him out of his briefs, you watched his cock spring free, the tip red and angry. You leaned down and thumbed his leaking slit, earning you a delicious moan. You spread the mess down his shaft.

He opened the condom with his teeth, you watched as he rolled it down. He pulled you to the edge of the counter again and lined himself up with your entrance. He pushed himself inside of you slowly, allowing you time to adjust. The stretch was delicious. He slowly began to thrust, whining in the process.

“You’re so warm,” he cried. You felt every inch of him as he slid in and out of you. His hands anchored you to the countertop as you draped your arms across his back. Seokmin found his rhythm once you wrapped your legs around his waist, he felt so surrounded by you. He swore he could live with you wrapped around him for the rest of his life.

“Why didn’t you fuck me in the restaurant?” You breathed. His hips stuttered for a moment.

“In public?” He bit his lip.

“Yeah?” You swiped a hand through his hair and gave it a tug. He moaned into the crook of your neck.

“I uh-” He whined, “I didn’t think-I don’t know?” “Oh you really can’t think when your dick’s busy, huh?” He whined into your neck again, the vibrations and the warm air fanning against your skin left goosebumps behind. Seokmin’s hands trailed down from your hips to your thighs and he began to knead your soft skin with his nimble fingers.

You leaned your head back, enjoying the feeling of him all over you, inside of you. With better access to you he experimentally captured your skin between his teeth. Your sounds spurred him on and encouraged him to begin sucking and biting a bruise into your skin. With this your hips bucked up to meet his thrusts.

The idea of being marked by Seokmin would have appalled you just a few weeks ago, but now you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the idea of people knowing you have had him like this. Like that stupid waitress. “She wanted you.” You muttered between moans.

“What?” Seokmin breathed into your skin.

“That waitress, she wanted you.”

“Oh well.” Seokmin bit you again. He was marking you, even after you told him that another woman wanted him like this. The coil in your stomach threatened to snap at that alone. You could envision yourself falling off the edge soon. Seokmin was still massaging the underside of your thighs, pinning your legs around his waist. Suddenly everything was overwhelming, everything was him. You felt like fireworks were setting off inside you. He continued rolling his hips into you through your orgasm. Shortly after he was releasing into the condom, moans rattled your throat the entire time.

He pulled back to look at you, his eyelids were heavy over his eyes, his lips puffy. Before either of you had the chance to say anything the oven beeped. Seokmin’s eyes grew wide, both of you obviously forgot about the pizza.

“Get your dick out of me and turn that off!” You laughed. He nodded and slowly pulled out of you. You watched him slap the off button on the oven, trying not to laugh at him being naked from the waist down.

Once both of you were cleaned up and clothed, Seokmin cut the pizza and put it on plates. You were waiting on his couch, dressed head to toe in his clothes. To him you looked like a dream.

“Stay the night.” He handed you your plate and sat down next to you.

“No.” You stated simply, picking up a piece of pizza. After several seconds of silence you looked up at him, he was looking at you dumbfounded. “We have work tomorrow.”

“I’ll drive you!”

“And walk past Jeongyeon after showing up with you and smelling like sex? No thanks.”

“You can shower here, I’ll even walk in ten minutes later, please?” He looked like a puppy again.

“I don’t have my work clothes, and no yours won’t fit me.” You gestured towards his clothes that were far too big on you.

“There’s extras, you know that.”

“Fine…” You wouldn’t mind showering in a nice apartment for a change. “You walk in fifteen minutes after me, and you shower with me.” “You have a deal!”

Finals week was upon you. The only week out of the year that work came second to school, you were so close to graduation you just had to make it through a week of practical exams. You were confident in your ability to pass but your mind was elsewhere most of the time.

You wondered how the kitchen was fairing without you, how Seokmin was doing without you. As much as you hated to admit it, he did know what he was doing, but being absent was eating at you. You flipped through the pages of your textbook without reading a single word wishing you could pick up your phone and hear about the days you’ve missed.

Across town Seokmin was doing just about as well, he knew your name wasn’t on the schedule and he was dying to know where you were. He was chopping carrots to have for dinner service when he decided to go straight to your apartment tonight. He didn’t care if he had to get on his knees and beg the woman at the desk to tell him your apartment number.

He all but sprinted out to his car once the kitchen was clean for the following day. He parked on the curb in front of the building after the short drive. He practiced what he was going to say to the woman at the desk on his way into the lobby. He took a deep breath and approached her.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Y/F/N Y/L/N!” He blurted. “She hasn’t been to work in a few days, she isn’t scheduled but she didn’t tell me she wouldn’t be here and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything wrong and I–” The woman was laughing. Sure he went off script, but how would she know? He looked at her, confused.

“She doesn’t live here.” Now he wasn’t expecting that.

“What?”

“I told her this would happen eventually, somebody would come looking for her and I would have to be the one to break it to them.” She sighed.

“She just…lies to people?”

“Yeah all the time.” She began digging in her desk for something. “You said you worked with her?” “Yeah, I dropped her off here after work once…so I just thought..” Seokmin rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

“Oh you’re the one she was weird about!” “What?” “What? Nothing.” She began scribbling something on a slip of paper. “Here, this is her address, tell her Jane sent you.” She handed him the paper and two lollipops.

—-

A cautious knock rang through your apartment, which was confusing considering no one knew where you lived. You unfolded yourself from the couch and padded to the door. Seokmin was standing in the hallway and you almost slammed the door in his face.

“What are you doing here?” You almost shrieked. He held up two lollipops silently. “Fuck, okay, uh…come in.” You stepped to the side allowing him entrance. He shuffled past you, seeing another person standing in your tiny apartment was odd to say the least.

“Hi,” Seokmin offered quietly while you were intently staring at the ground. “It’s nice to see you.”

“I’m sorry my apartment is gross and cluttered and small.” You muttered. Seokmin looked around the apartment. The cookbooks in the kitchen were piled almost as high as the refrigerator, the pink throw blanket on the couch made him smile, seeing a softness that no one else gets to see. The living room was bathed in lamp light that made the shadows in the room look exaggerated and long. The apartment was uniquely you and he loved it.

“What?” He chuckled, “I don’t care what your apartment looks like, is this why you lied?” Your head snapped up at him calling you out so directly.

“I never lied, I told you to drop me off there, not that I lived there.” You pointed out. He gave you a look. “I didn’t lie.”

“Sure, maybe not,” he sighed.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered, Seokmin had never seen you at a loss for words like this.

“Look,” he took your hand, “that’s not why I’m here, it doesn’t matter.” You led him to the couch, moving the open textbook so that he could sit down. Seeing him sitting on your couch was strange, seeing him here was not something you thought you would ever see. “Are you okay?” He blurted out.

“What?” You were taken aback, “of course, I’m fine.”

“You just haven’t been to work in a few days and after…the activities at my apartment I thought maybe you hated me, and–” “Woah!” You smiled, “why would I hate you? Seokmin, I took the week off to focus on finals week.”

“Oh.” He looked at you sheepishly. “Uh, well, how are they going?” You rolled your eyes.

“Fine, I’ll pass, I miss work though.” You shrugged.

“Just work?” “No, I miss the way Soonyoung runs out of the kitchen when he sees me.”

“Oh…” He dropped his gaze dejectedly. “Hey!” He exclaimed as your fist connected with his arm.

“I miss you, dumb ass.” “So you didn’t quit?” “No,” you looked at him, confused. “You know you could have asked literally anyone where I was, right?”

“No one was talking about it! I thought we were all super sad about you quitting! I don’t know!” He gestured wildly with his hands. “And…ugh, okay, you remember that one day like a month ago? When you were asleep in the dining room and I woke you up?”

“Yeah?” “I, uh, I saw what you were working on…the job applications.” He lowered his volume as if he was afraid you would explode. “I thought you might’ve just up and left, you never liked me anyway, so you didn’t really have any reason to let me know.”

“Oh,” you sighed. “I’m sorry…” “Tell me you’ve changed your mind, you’re not leaving us.” “Seokmin….”

“Is it because of me?”

“Maybe at first,” You started, you could see the tears well up in his eyes. “But now…if anything you’ve made it harder to leave.”

“Where are you going?” He met your eyes again. You reached out to swipe the tears that managed to escape.

“I have a few offers, I don’t know yet.”

“Of course you do,” he laughed sadly, took hold of your wrists,and rubbed the back of your hands with his thumbs. “You’re so talented any restaurant would be stupid to not offer you a job.”

“That’s not what you said a few months ago.” You pointed out.

“Well, you know how to julienne the carrots now.”

“Hey!” You tried to push him away but he held you in place. He glanced at your lips before leaning in to kiss you. He kissed you softly, his lips tasted vaguely of salt and honey chapstick. He let himself linger without deepening the kiss until he suddenly pulled back, looking panicked.

“Those offers are for sous chef positions right?”

“Of course they are, watch out, Chef Lee.”

Three years later

You stretch out on your couch after making the most of your day off. With your recent promotion to head chef at Diamond you haven’t had a lot of time to relax. With your new hectic schedule you were shocked that you were able to make it the entire day without getting a single call about the restaurant.

A hand squeezed your calf gently. You hummed at the contact.

“I’ll make dinner tonight, love.” Seokmin mumbled sleepily from the other end of the couch.

“No.” You stated simply.

“Um, why not?”

“‘The only thing worse than the tacky decor at Quartz and Serenity is the incompetence of the kitchen. If you’re looking for the exact opposite of what you asked for, this is the restaurant for you.’” You rattled off.

“What are you doing?” Seokmin sat up, knocking your legs off the couch.

“‘I would give them zero stars if I could!’” You stared at him, “‘I ordered a steak and it came out barely cooked at all! Will not be returning!’”

“Okay! In my defense on that one, she ordered a well done steak!” He threw his hands up. “Who does that?”

“MichelleJo1965, obviously.” You deadpanned.

“When did you have time to dig through our Yelp reviews?” Seokmin scoffed, “I didn’t realize dating the competition meant I would have to defend myself at home.”

“Step up your game, Head Chef Lee.” You shrugged. “But seriously? She ordered a well done steak?”

“She did! It’s not my fault she has no taste.” He shrugged. “By the way I have plenty of great reviews, and I seem to remember my girlfriend really liking my cooking.” “You’re alright, I guess.” You shrugged. “When are you going to ask me by the way?”

“What?” He tried to stay calm, you could be talking about anything, certainly not the ring that has been staring at him from under his underwear for the last six months.

“You really need to figure out where to hide things where I won’t find them” Wordlessly Seokmin got up from the couch and stomped into your shared bedroom. For a split second you thought you might have pushed too far until he returned with the small velvet box.

“I hope you at least left me one secret, you didn’t look at it did you?” He smiled sheepishly.

“No, Min, I have no idea what it looks like, swear.”

“Good,” to your surprise he sank down to one knee, right there in the living room. “You never were good at leaving well enough alone, I had a grander plan, but this seems much more our speed, huh?” You laughed. “Will you marry me, even if my Yelp reviews suck sometimes?” He popped the small box open to reveal a ring.

“Of course I will, you idiot.”

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bunnis-monsters · 4 months ago

Text

Yandere!Dragon Hybrid Fluff

A/N: another kofi req! Enjoy!

It had been a while since you visited your dear friend, so you took a day off of work to bring them some freshly baked cookies and spend the day with them.

Working as a waitress in your local tavern wasn’t something you had planned on doing, but your family was poor and no one had asked for your hand in marriage.

Your parents had done all they could to put food on the table, what more could you ask for? Repaying them was the only thing on your mind as of late, leaving no room for your own desires.

Even if late in the night you imagined a beautiful and rich man falling for you, that wasn’t likely to come true. Even if it did happen, you doubted your parents could pay for your dowry.

At least the tavern owner was kind enough to give you a day off. You didn’t like missing work, but even you couldn’t keep going without rest. It wasn’t possible, and you needed to socialize before your mind became mush!

Leaves flew past you as you continued down the forest path. As of late, every day has been windy and cold. It was strange though, the wind followed you wherever you went.

“It’s freezing…” you murmured, pulling your winter coat tighter around your plump frame. In the past you wouldn’t have minded a nice snowy day, but spending it walking through a forest alone while the wind howled made it irritating.

The wind picked up, and all you could hear was how it whistled and howled around you.

But this wasn’t wind…

You nearly fell over, steadying yourself as a strong gust of wind swept over your body. All of a sudden, it all stopped…

“Hello, pet.”

You froze, a shiver running down your spine as someone spoke up behind you. Before you could even turn to see who it was, a talon wrapped around your entire body and you were lifted up into the air.

Not able to process what was happening, you lost consciousness from the pure shock.

The last thing you saw was a massive dragon carrying you off to god knows where…

“Come, my pet… wake up.”

You whimpered as you awoke, your eyes slowly opening. There was a figure leaning over you, but your vision was still too blurry to make out any identifying features.

“W… where… am I?”

A rough chuckle caused you to tense up. The deep rumble nearly shook the bed you were resting in.

“You’re where you belong, my precious one. Here, you’ll be safe, warm, and fed…”

He leaned forward, a claw tenderly caressing your cheek. “Is there anything else you could possibly need?”

Still too exhausted and scared, you fell back asleep.

When you finally awoke, you rubbed your eyes and got a good look at your captor.

He was a handsome man that seemed to be a bit older than you, his tanned skin mixed with red scales. When you recoiled from his touch, he only let out an amused chuckle.

“Scared you, did I?” he cooed, grabbing your chin and tapping it with a talon. “You’ll get used to me, princess. There’s not much else you can do besides that.”

You soon learned that this creature had been following and observing you for quite some time now. That explained the wind that followed you…

“Why, though? I can’t understand the reasoning behind any of this…”

His eyes moved down your body, landing on your soft thighs. “… there are not many of my kind left. Those that are don’t have what I want.”

He sat down, a large carcass of something that looked like a deer yet three times the size of one being skinned by the man as he spoke. “You are someone I wouldn’t mind having hatchlings with. That’s a compliment, I despise most humans.”

You were served a bowl of stew, with large chunks of meat, potatoes, and carrots. He held you in his lap as you ate, rubbing his head against your hair and cheeks while giving you a few sniffs between bites of his own stew.

Despite being a creature meant for battle who should only care about preserving his riches, the hybrid seemed quite fond of you. Every single night, he held you in his arms, his thick tail wrapped around your lower half.

“My little one, precious little thing…”

He only left to hunt game, and returned as soon as he could. As time passed by, you became fond of him as well.

When you thought about your situation late at night, you couldn’t be too upset. The dragon left a fortune to your parents in exchange for your hand, and you had always wanted a handsome and rich man as your husband.

He had provided everything he said he would. Warmth, food, and safety.

In times of poverty, war, and harsh winters… could you in good conscious ask for more?

——————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @avalordream @atransmuter @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96 @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @an-ever-angry-bi @bath1lda @ilyanadelarosa @iswearimnotadrugdealer @whysageee @yumikomoon @rainejiang @lostsomewhereinthegarden

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tojigasm · 2 months ago

Text

﹒୨𝑒 ﾟ ˖ ⠀Bed Chem

ᥫ᭡... Bucky Barnes x female!reader

⊹₊˚ꕤ˚₊⊹ finished this at like 1am lol. This will most likely have a second part. Anywhooo i hope you all enjoy

Springtime brings about fresh starts. Buzzing bees and lavender and rose that dances about the wind. Baby birds and bunnies. And all of that and more wrapped in a bow of new beginnings.

And with the promise of all things new and rebirthed came a change in you and your best friend's friendship.

You can't pinpoint the exact time when something shifted between you and Bucky, your best friend of six years.

It seemed as though it happened overnight that you began to notice just how good he looked in those tight compression gym shirts and his henleys he wore on off days. Or the way his muscles buldged and the size of his hands in comparison to your own. His thighs and how they made your mouth water at the thought of sitting on one of them or both. And just how deeply and attractive his voice was.

But whatever spring aphrodisiac was dancing throughout the pollen in the warm air was beginning to piss you off.

It was driving you insane.

Involuntary shivers and swooning eyes or your mouth going dry at something he says so nonchalantly paired with that oh-so-laidback demeanor of his.

He's driving you fucking crazy and you're not sure how much more you can take.

For the most part, you've been able to push your carnality to the side and remain reserved in your behavior but it's becoming increasingly difficult to do so as Bucky's domineering nature only worsens with his comfortability it seems.

the worst part of all is that you're pretty sure he knows you've got a crush on him. He's always been too observant for his own good.

You admit, there's moments that stick out to you in your mind.

Like the time the two of you had come back from a mission, battered and disheveled on the quinjet.

Bucky had kept his metal hand at the dip of your back, helping you to stay upright and encourage you to make those last few steps as you made your way up the ramp.

"Y'got it?" He'd asked you as you took your seat, struggling somewhat to get yourself strapped in.

Too tired to really speak, you had offered him a gentle nod only to grimace as the ship rocked upon take off, jolting your bruised ribs.

Bucky had left towards the cockpit, allowing you to relax for a few moments.

You'd let yourself rest against the seat, eyes fluttering closed as the ship settled smoothly in the air.

It'd only been about 15 minutes before you could hear Bucky's heavy boots against the floor as he made his way back towards you.

Feeling his eyes on you, you'd opened yours to meet his furrowed brows.

"Where were you?" Your voice came out rough and broken.

"Was checkin' on the guys upfront. Just makin' sure everyone's okay." He said, hand on his hip as he looked you over.

You nodded tiredly with a hoarse hum, eyes almost falling shut again before you felt a hand cup your jaw softly.

Bucky's thumb stroked the skin of your chin softly as you met his eyes with a tired pout.

"And how 'bout you, sweetheart. You doin' okay?"

You could've cried right there.

And of course, there was the time he butted in on your designated me time while you were watching TV at the tower.

You could hear him as he walked into the communal kitchen and rummaged around in the fridge before making his way into the spacious den and sitting down right beside you with a cheese stick and a handful of carrots in one hand.

"Whatcha watchin'?"

"Succession," you said rather buntly.

You werent exactly pleased with someone invading your space during the small amount of free time you got to yourself, especially when that someone had been making your every waking moment an anxious pit of hell for the past month or so.

Bucky chuckled from beside you, taking a bit of his cheese stick.

"Someone's grumpy," He sneers at you mockingly before leaning back against the cushions and throwing his arm back to rest behind you atop the couch.

You give a small huff, ignoring that comment for the most part as you focused your attention back to the screen.

A few moments of quiet passed before you found yourself getting mildly uncomfortable in your position on the couch. Your legs had been tucked under you for too long, and they were beginning to grow numb.

That, and you were much too tense all thanks to Bucky's presence.

"Can hear you thinking from here," Buckt comments, biting into a baby carrot.

You fight the urge to drop your head back against the couch, reminding yourself that his arm was very much still there, and the last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself by being clumsy.

You were way too on edge.

Bucky was becoming a serious fucking problem.

"M'not comfortable." is all you say as you cautiously move your legs out from under you to stretch.

You're still trying to stretch out the pins and needles as you debate on where you'll rest your legs for the majority of the episode until you're able to leave the room without it being too awkward.

Testing different places in the small area of your spot on the couch to get comfortable, Bucky makes the decision for you and pulls your legs up into his lap.

"I've gotcha, girly."

And it registers to you then. While your legs are thrown over his thick thighs and the cool tips of his metal fingers trace up and down the lengths of your calves, big blue eyes focused on the screen on front of the two of you, that Bucky might like you back too.

And Bucky -Bucky was fucking tired.

Tired of the whole nonchalant bullshit front that he knew you were putting on.

he was seriously fucking tired of it.

You hadn't realized you were staring at him until he turned away from the TV. Pouty baby blue eyes focused on you in a smug look.

"Everything alright over there?"

Having half a mind to pick your jaw up off the floor, you nod through a quiet and shaky breath.

"Yeah?" Bucky brings his hand up from your leg to cup your chin with his thumb and forefinger, "That pretty head go a little quiet just now?"

It's completely audacious and all the more exhilirating when he merely dropped his hand from your jaw and gestured towards the TV screen.

"Finish your show."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

The days that followed were no better.

One of the days when you were out in the field, Bucky hadn't said so much as a word to you during prep for the mission.

You just shrugged it off as him being preoccupied or not wanting to stress you out before heading out.

But while waiting in the quinjet as you made your way to the drop point, Bucky had passed by you on the way to the cockpit and mumbled softly:

"Hey, kid."

He didn't say a word to you the rest of the day.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

So it only makes sense that you're upset with him.

That he's playing hot and cold with you.

And so you decide two can play at that game.

So you start dishing it back. With soft and gentle hello's to short and reserved replies.

It doesn't last long, however, which you should've guessed so.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

"Have I been neglecting you?"

Bucky's voice is deep and soft from behind you on the couch. A hand comes down to hold the curve of your jaw.

You're rendered immobile.

Your legs, pulled to your chest, begin to tremble.

"That's what this whole thing has been about, right? The whole reason you've been givin' me attitude."

You can hear the fucking smirk in his voice and a simmering heat rises in your belly. In irritation at him and yourself, that he's reduced you to his mercy so easily.

You move to push him off, and he shushes you, placing his hand back onto the curve of your jaw.

You rest your hand on his forearm. His veins pulse beneath his hot skin.

"Don't push me away." Bucky places a metal palm to your forehead, guiding you to tilt your head back against the tops of the cushions, wide pupils meeting his baby blues.

"Hey there, pretty."

You flush instantly, eyes widening as he strokes the pad of his thumb over the soft skin of your jaw and chin.

"I–"

You can't find the words. Your train of thought is gone as soon as you open your mouth to recount his teasing.

You mentally plead with yourself to do something, anything, to stop the involuntary heat rising to your cheeks and the inescapable shiver in your voice.

"Not so tough, huh." Bucky preens, "just need someone to make that pretty head of yours so quiet for a bit."

In a last-ditch effort, you're pushing yourself up from the couch and heading to your room without so much as a look back.

You don't see Bucky for about a week after that.

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

8:00 pm on Sunday nights are for resets of the week and are solely dedicated to respectable hours of designated selfcare.

Which is why you were tucked away in your candle-lit bedroom, playing songs from your favorite playlist and rubbing vanilla lotion into your skin.

The day had been almost perfect. You'd completed all reports that required finalizing and even got ahead of some papers that needed drafting and filing for the upcoming week.

And then, you were able to get to the gym, try a new dish you'd circled in your cookbook, and finished the day with a much needed and refreshing yoga and shower sesh.

So it only made sense that because all your metaphorical stars were aligned that some asshole was going to ruin that.

That asshole was Bucky.

You could hear his heavy boots from all the way down the damn hallway as he spoke with Sam.

Rolling your eyes, you increased the volume on your TV just enough to drown out the noise without drawing too much attention.

You hunkered down and prayed he'd just keep walking past your door.

But this day had been too damn good to you, and things had gone on in your favor for far too long for you to finish the night off without any interference.

So fucking of course Bucky knocked on your door before walking right in without even waiting for a response.

Shutting the door behind him, he leaned back against the wood.

"What if I was jacking off."

Bucky raised his brows and hands mockingly, "Oh no, not that."

You rolled your eyes, adjusting your necklace, "The hell do you want?"

Bucky made his way across your bedroom, taking a seat on your comforter beside you.

"Just wanted to see what's up with you," he picked at a callouse on the palm of his hand, "haven't seen ya' around, kid."

You did little to hold back your rather blase reaction, dropping your brows boredly to return back to massaging lotion into the soft of your thighs.

"You're not exactly pleasant to be around." You say beneath your breath. You know he heard you.

"D'awhhh," Bucky sneers. "How come you always clam up whenever I talk about fucking?"

Bucky seems to notice your rather delayed reaction as he places a large hand onto the small of your thigh, massaging the pad of his thumb against your soft skin.

"Y'with me?" He coos, ducking his head some to meet your eyes.

Your mind seems to turn back on and tune back in, and you offer him a reassuring nod.

"That pretty head of yours still loading?"

You give a rather tight-lipped smile, "Well, I think I better start getting ready for be–"

"Has daddy been bein' mean to you?" He practially purrs the epithet, and suddenly that feeling is back.

And it simmers in a shivered heat in your cunt and your mouth feels dry and your eyes water and your brain turns to mush because you most definitely weren't expecting that.

with wide eyes, you meet his blown baby blues. His thick brows rise in amusement.

"Oh -" Bucky's voice deepens, and his eyes narrow, "You liked that, didn't you." He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, moving closer to your spot on the bed.

You're completely frozen.

Bucky looks like a wolf, dark hair and brows shadowing his light eyes. You feel as though he's literally hunting you.

You're too lost in your mind to realize he's begun to run a hand up the inside of your thigh.

blinkling blankly, you cower in on yourself, making yourself appear smaller.

wounded creature seeking comfort in its devourer.

"S'okay, baby," Bucky's thumb strokes the soft of your chin, holding your gaze on him, "Y'can tell me." Bucky's voice tapers into a soft whisper as his lips meet yours in a swift and soft kiss.

"Buck -" you try, threading your fingers through his hair, seeking purchase in anything, for something, seeking control over what's happening.

"Shh," Bucky meets your lips in another kiss, running his tongue over your plush lips.

you moan into his mouth, and he whimpers back, pulling you by your hips into his lap as he sits on the edge of your bed.

Your hips rock into one another, and you're woven undone in his hold, rupturing at his touch and whispering his name against your lips like a poiosned prayer.

There's something unrbideled and untammed simmering beneath the heated surface of your skin. It follows his touch along your body as if he owns some piece of you.

As if he's returning to a part of you.

you're shaking, trembling and grasping onto him.

He wills you still, tucking you beneath his chin and stroking his hand down the trembling soft of your spine.

"Why're you shakin', sweetheart?" He asks, pulling back to meet your eyes, "S'just me, s'just Bucky."

It's so hard to relinquish control – to submit fully and trust in his hand.

He soothes his hand over your back again, drawing lines from the dip of your spine to the nape of your neck.

You inhale shakily.

"Okay," his voice is light and airy, soothing, "so we're not ready to talk yet. That's okay."

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

Bucky's tongue laps against the soft of your cunt, your lips spread open by his pointer and index. His plush lips press deliciously against your pussy.

You give a choked sob, keeping your hands at the backs of your thighs, holding yourself open for him.

Bucky, without missing a beat, pulls your hands from your thighs and drags one to the top of his hair, letting you weave your fingers into his dark locks while he takes hold of your other.

"Buck–" you press him further against your sopping cunt.

"I know, I gotcha."" He mumbles into your heat.

His beard tickles the insides of your thighs and adds a devilishly taunting intensity to your already heightened pleasure.

You imagine his cock as Bucky slips a finger past your folds, curling it to stroke the spongey patch of your cunt.

The stretch of him, thick weight of his girth stretching your sensitive gummy walls, the heat and taste of him.

"Y'with me, pretty girl?"

Bucky's voice pulls you from your thoughts, and you drop your eyes to meet his own.

He's smirking at you from between your thighs, pumping a finger into your heat.

You nod through a whimper. Eyes threatening to close at the humilation of it.

At the thought and all-consuming realization that he's watching you.

After this, the two of you will never be the same.

Bucky pulls himself up to his knees and leans over you, planting a hand beside your head on your pillow. His finger still pumping against your walls as he adds a second.

You're flushed beneath him. Heat rises to your cheeks at the proximity.

"Hi," you whisper, wrapping your hand around the wrist beside your head.

"Hi, baby," Bucky coos with a soft smile before meeting you in a kiss.

It's short and sweet and somehow everything you need as your cunt begins to pulse around his digits.

"Yr'gettin' close, huh." Bucky pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, "can feel ya tightenin' up on me," he chuckles, earning a soft giggle from you.

When you cum, your jaw falls open in an 'o' and the metal plates of Bucky's wrist shift beneath your squeezing palm.

"Thereee she is," Bucky soothes you over, "Deep breath. That was a big one, huh."

Your mind bursts with pleasure, and your body shivers in his hold.

You no longer know where you begin.

The room blurs.

You suppose you're waiting for him somewhere.

You're not sure where.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #beefy!bucky #bucky barnes smut

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mari-positas · 1 year ago

Text

splash

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: You come home from your first day back out on patrol and find Joel giving your daughter a bath.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. GIRLDAD!JOEL. established relationship. this specific work does not mention reader’s age (other works in this series may mention she is younger than Joel), no physical description of reader, Rosemary comes with a slight physical description (she has Joel’s hair color/hair type and eye color, no mentions of her skin tone). brief mention of Sarah, brief mention of Joel being a single father pre outbreak, Joel and Ellie are fine because i said so and it’s what he deserves, okay? general fluff and a lot of cuteness, brief smutty themes, but nothing explicit. minimal editing.

word count: 2.3k

a/n: short little thing, but this feels like the cutest thing i have written in a while. if you enjoy it, please consider reblogging or leaving a comment <33

Joel sighs to himself as he scrapes the remnants of Rosemary’s lunch into the bin of food scraps beside the kitchen counter—the neighbor’s chickens were in for a real treat tomorrow morning when he dropped them off on his way to patrol. He had just about coaxed his two and a half year old daughter into eating the crust of her jam sandwich when Ellie walked into the kitchen with a soccer ball tucked under her arm, a trade he was fairly certain she’d made more for the toddler’s sake than her own.

She was sixteen now, spent more time with her friends than she did with her family lately, but her soft spot for the little girl always, always brought her back home.

“Hey kid, look what I’ve got,” Ellie had grinned, holding the ball out for the child to see. “What do you say we go out back and kick this thing around? Sound like fun?”

He frowned, the creases between his brows deepening.

“Ellie, can’t you see I’m in the middle of feedin’ her—”

But it had been too late.

Rosie’s dark brown eyes widened, and she squealed in delight. “Down! Down!” she had exclaimed, whacking her teeny hands down on top of her wooden high chair on either side of her plate. “Daddy! Down, want down!”

Joel decided to put his foot down.

Well, he had tried to put his foot down, anyway.

“Not ‘til you’ve finished every last bite, babygirl. Y’gotta finish your sandwich and eat all your carrots, alright?”

“M’all done,” she’d insisted, placing both hands on her belly. Although Joel would have preferred she clean her plate, you had taught him to honor her fullness cues.

“We have to listen to Rosemary,” you’d told him. “If she says she’s full, then she’s full. The last thing we want to do is force her to keep eating when she’s not hungry, Joel. Her relationship with food starts with us, after all.”

“You’re startin’ to sound like that goddamn child rearin’ book,” he had teased you, earning himself a stern glare.

He liked to give you a hard time about it, but the truth of the matter was, that parenting book you found in the library turned out to be pretty helpful for both of you—while this wasn’t Joel’s first rodeo, the last time he had been around a child this young was over three decades ago. With Sarah, he’d flown through her childhood by the seat of his pants, went through a lot more trial and error scenarios than he liked to admit.

Often, Joel found himself feeling guilty. He tried to give some credit to the clueless young man in his twenties, the one who had been left to raise his baby girl all on his own when her mom couldn’t take it anymore after one year. Things turned out alright, but whenever he sees you with Rosemary, takes in the way you pour your entire heart into being a good mother to yours and his daughter, he can’t help but reminisce on his first life, on all those moments he felt so hopeless—all of those moments when he didn’t know what to do, and had no one to turn to for help. No one to lean on.

Oh how he wished Sarah could have known what it was like to have both of her parents at her side.

Like Rosie does.

Sighing, Joel places her plate in the sink, along with his own. He turns and glances at the clock on the wall—it’s half past noon, and he knows your early morning patrol group should be arriving back to the town’s main gates any minute now. Sure, caring for Rosemary had served as a decent distraction, but every so often, his anxieties would creep up on him. He worried about you being out there on the other side of the wall. And if you being out there wasn’t bad enough, you were out there without him.

“I’m back on the patrol roster next week,” you informed him one evening while the two of you were cleaning the kitchen after supper. You winced when he dropped the plate in his hands into the sink, the loud clanking noise bouncing off the walls. You wasted no time in pleading your case. “It’s been almost three years, Joel. I have to get back to pulling my weight around here. As much as I’d love to, I can’t stay home forever, and you know that as well as I do.”

Slowly, he’d spun around to face you, the muscle in his jaw ticking—he wasn’t happy. “Find another job,” he bit through his teeth. “Somethin’ in town. Somethin’ safe.”

“Joel—”

“You’re a mother now!” he hissed, angrily.

“And you’re a father,” you’d countered without missing a beat. Knowing Joel’s reaction was only coming from a place of concern, you walked up to him and placed a hand on his heaving chest, right over his racing heart in an effort to calm him. “Look, I’m just capable of getting myself home safely as you are, alright? And if it makes you feel any better, I’ll be partnered with Tommy. He’ll have my back.”

He’d found very little consolation in that.

Joel sighs again and reaches for the faucet.

“Uh, Joel?” Ellie’s voice comes from behind him.

“What?” He turns around, his jaw dropping open when he sees her standing there, carefully holding Rosemary out towards him by her underarms. She’s covered from head to toe in mud. “What the hell did you do to her?”

“You know how it was raining for like three days?” Ellie shoots him a sheepish smile. “The ball went into a mud puddle, and well, she sorta went in after it.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s filthy!” Exasperated, Joel narrows his eyes at her. “Why weren’t you watchin’ her?”

“I was, but she was too fast! Kid’s a little speed demon, man. Aren’t ya, Rosie?”

Rosie giggles and kicks her dangling feet, mud dripping off her tiny, leather oxford shoes and onto the floor with an audible splatter.

“She’s gonna be home from patrol any minute now,” he says, shaking his head. “If she sees Rosie like this, she’ll have my ass, and yours.” Carefully, he takes Rosemary from Ellie’s hands, holding her out and away from him. He jerks his chin towards the dirty floor. “Clean up this mess while I take her upstairs and give her a bath. We might just be able to get away with this.”

She gives him a thumbs up. “You got it, old man.”

“C’mon, Rosie Posie. Let’s get you all washed up before mama gets home and puts all three of us in a timeout.”

She gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Okay, daddy.”

Groaning, you shove through the front door.

You had underestimated how difficult it would be to get back in the saddle of a horse after almost three years of not being in one.

It would take some getting used to—again.

“Fuck,” you hiss, closing the door and leaning against it for support. Your knees. Your thighs. Your lower back.

There isn’t a single part of you that isn’t aching.

After taking a minute to collect yourself, you push away from the door and toe off your old, brown leather boots, leaving them there near the entryway. You call out, “I’m home!”

“Oh hey!” From seemingly out of nowhere, Ellie comes speeding down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of you with her backpack slung over her shoulder. “Just the person I wanted to see! Mind if I head over to Dina’s for a while?”

“How long is a while, El?”

“She invited me to stay for dinner.”

You raise a knowing eyebrow at her, a smirk tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Again?”

Flushing, Ellie nods. “Yeah.”

“Did you ask Joel for permission?”

“Aw come on, man! Do I really have to ask Joel?” She huffs and rolls her eyes. “I can hear him bitching at me already.” Dropping her voice several octaves, she starts to mimic him, accent and all. “Y’been spending every fuckin’ night over there. Don’t you forget you’ve got a family, kiddo.”

Amused, you chuckle and lightly nudge her shoulder. “I have to take his side on this one, Ellie. It would be nice for the four of us to have dinner together. You know, like we used to before Dina came into the picture?”

“I’ll stay home for dinner for the rest of the week,” Ellie swears, clasping her hands together. “Please?”

Sighing in defeat, you step aside. “Alright, go ahead. I’ll hold you to your word though, alright?”

“Thank you!” she grins as she breezes past you and out the door, slamming it shut behind her.

Shrugging out of your jacket, you hang it up in the hall closet and then head upstairs. “Joel? Are you up here?” There’s no answer. You pass by Rosemary’s room first and peek inside only to find it empty. Furrowing a brow, you head a bit further down the hallway into yours and Joel’s bedroom. That’s when you hear his voice coming from the en suite bathroom.

There, you find him kneeling on the tile floor beside the tub, his back to you as he gives your daughter her bath. Hours ahead of her normal schedule, you realize.

Casually leaning against the doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest, and quietly watch them, your lips already curling into a smile.

“What’s this?” Joel asks her, holding up a yellow rubber duck. It’s almost comical how small it looks in the palm of his large hand.

“Duckie!” Rosemary answers, enthusiastically.

He nods. “S’right, honey. It’s a duckie. And what sound does a duckie make?”

Craning your neck, you catch a glimpse of her sweet little face as she stares at him, her expression a mingle of equal parts curiosity and confusion.

“C’mon now, babygirl,” Joel prompts her, handing her the toy. “Mama taught you this already, remember?”

She looks at the rubber duck and thinks, thinks, thinks.

After a minute, Rosie gasps and shouts, “Quack!”

“S’right! Good job, Rosie,” he praises. Leaning over the edge of the tub, he presses a kiss into her damp, dark brown curls. “That’s my girl. You’re so smart.”

“Quack!” Giggling, Rosie lifts her chubby arms over her head, bringing them down into the water with all of her might, splashing Joel. She does it over and over again, soaking his face and the front of his denim shirt as she chants, “Quack, quack, quack!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Joel laughs, shaking his head. He lifts an arm, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “S’enough, my little duck. Daddy already had his shower today.”

Grinning, you saunter up behind him, and with a bit of protest from your back, you bend over to kiss the top of his head. You say in jest, “Without me?”

“Mama!” Rosie cries happily, reaching for you.

“Hi baby, I missed you!” Leaning down further, you kiss her cheek, the soothing, calming scent of her lavender soap invading your senses. Drawing yourself back up to full height, you glance down at Joel with suspicion. “Is there any particular reason you’re giving her a bath so early today?”

You can tell he’s contemplating lying to you. That is, until your eyes flicker over to her muddy clothes, which lie in a heap next to the hamper.

He’d forgotten to get rid of the evidence.

“Joel? What happened to my child?”

“We, uh, we had a little problem earlier this afternoon,” Joel explains, his ears burning red. “She was out in the backyard playin' with Ellie and she got into one of the mud puddles.”

“Rosemary Miller!” you playfully scold her. Placing your hands on your hips, you ask,“Is that true, young lady? Did you get into a mud puddle?”

Rosie beams. “Yeah!”

Rolling your eyes, you laugh and shake your head. “You silly girl.”

“Thought you’d be mad, darlin’,” Joel admits, peering up at you in relief.

“Joel, all that I ask when I leave her alone with you and Ellie is that I come home and she’s still in one piece,” you tease him.

Dipping his hand into the water, Joel splashes you, and of course, Rosemary decides to follow his lead and she does the same, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Get her, Rosie, get her!” he encourages her.

“Hey!” You jump backwards, almost tripping over your own feet. “Cut it out! You’re getting water everywhere!”

About an hour later, once both Rosie and the bathroom floor are dry, Joel puts her down for her long overdue afternoon nap. He heads back into the bedroom where you’re digging in a drawer for a pair of clean leggings and a sweatshirt. He comes up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist as he nuzzles his nose into your neck. He inhales deeply.

“Ew, Joel, stop it! I’m all filthy,” you say, wiggling to get away from him.

Joel holds you tighter. “Mm, I love it when you’re filthy, baby,” he smirks. “C’mon. She’s out for at least an hour. We’ve got some time to ourselves.”

“I’m so sore,” you whine. “From riding a horse all day.”

His lips find the shell of your ear and he whispers, “Too sore to ride me, darlin’?”

Biting back a tiny whimper, your head falls back onto his shoulder as wet heat pools between your thighs. He lightly nips at your pulse point, his teeth scraping your tender, delicate flesh.

“Jesus,” you breathe when he presses into you. You feel him against the small of your back—he’s already hard. “Can you at least let me bathe first?”

Joel hums. “I’ve got a better idea, baby.” Spinning you around, he reaches for the buttons of your shirt. “How’s about we save some water and shower together?”

“Thought you already had a shower today,” you remind him of what he’d said earlier.

He pushes your shirt off your shoulders and licks his lips. “I’m sure as hell up for another one.”

divider credit to @/saradika 🩵

#fic: snapshots #girldad!joel #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic

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obsessivevoidkitten · 7 months ago

Text

The Wolf and the Rabbit

Male Alpha Wolf Hybrid Tsundere x Male Omega Bunny Hybrid Reader CW: Mildly dubious consent (Not the sex but other actions), consensual sex, knotting, being chased, pheromones, a/b/o, biting, scent marking, scent kink, underarm kink, huffing underwear, masturbation Word Count: 2k (This was written at the request of a good friend who wished to remain anon, I hope you all enjoy it. If you REALLY love it feel free to tip me at the link in my pinned post or even commission me.)

City life had gotten unbearable. The constant bills and dead-end job. The hustle and bustle of the environment. Traffic and construction. It had all just become far too much. It was suffocating and oppressive. You clearly needed a change.

And what better place for a bunny hybrid like you to live than in a nice forest. You saved up your money and sold many of your possessions to buy a nice burrow under a great oak tree.

It was everything you had hoped for. The burrow was the size of a small house. A bedroom, bathroom, living room, and small kitchen. Outside, there were plenty of wooded areas for you to forage, and clear spots near the burrow entrance allowed you to grow crops. Lettuce and carrots were a must.

One sunny day, after you had finished unpacking the last of your boxes, you decided you should explore the edges of your property. You hummed to yourself as you went along, putting any food you found in a basket. You had amassed a sizable amount of dandelion greens.

Suddenly, your ears perked up, and your nose wiggled. Something was off... you felt like you were in mortal peril...

You heard a snarl and bolted. You could hear footsteps giving chase behind you, but you didn't dare look. In no time, your pursuer caught up to you and pushed you to the forest floor. You tried to crawl away, but he flipped you over on your back, giving you a view of him for the first time.

A growling wolf man.

He leered down at you with cold eyes of steel, the blue-grey fur on his ears and tail bristling. He was much larger than you were, fairly chubby but also very muscular. His scent was that of an alpha.

“Think you can just wander into my territory and get away from me, creampuff!? No, I gotta teach you a lesson!”

Tears streamed from your eyes as you stared at his bared fangs. You were sure he had gone feral and was going to rip you to shreds. You futilely stammered out some pleas and protests. He rolled his eyes and pinned you down, putting you into a bit of a chokehold as he rubbed your head into his underarm. He continued this until you thoroughly reeked of his scent and then got off of you with a grunt and left.

“There, now you know my scent, I’m Lupin, and this is my territory, don’t come near it again!”

“I-I’m…” You muttered your name to him as he walked away, though you didn’t know why you bothered.

He hadn’t been trying to do anything sexual to you. You were an omega, but he told himself that he wasn’t interested. He was above all that and valued his solitude above all else. But as he left, he had to conceal a massive boner. That night thoughts of hunting you down and marking you all over with his smell haunted him. He had no choice but to masturbate to the thought.

The incident had a similar effect on you. You started producing quite a bit of slick. Once he had shown he had no interest in harming you, his scent became erotically stimulating, and it clung to you heavily. Of course you knew that it was not a sexually charged act and that he had only marked you because you had violated his property, but you couldn’t help jerking your cock and slipping your fingers into your slick lubed hole while thinking of him hunting, marking, and fucking you.

You just couldn’t stay away. You did for a few days, but you couldn’t resist your fantasies. So inevitably, you found yourself “accidentally” out of the bounds of your property line.

It didn’t take long for Lupin to descend upon you. He hadn’t been far, and he could detect your omega pheromones easily. It surely wasn’t because he had been brooding near the shared border of your properties in hopes that you would come by again.

You zipped away, and once more, he gave chase. This time, you knew who was there and didn’t have the same type of fear and were much more clear-headed. Your evasive skills were better as a result. The both of you enjoyed the hunt immensely. The thrill of catching and dominating you spurred him on while the rush of resistance and submission drove you.

This time, when he caught you, he made a big show of acting frustrated and annoyed at the very notion that you would dare to invade his space a SECOND time. Clearly, he had not properly put you in your place.

Feeling a bit more resistant than you did during the first encounter, you just huffed and turned away from him.

“Stubborn fucker.”

Then he did the same as he had done the first time but finished by removing his shirt and scenting it by rubbing it all over his sweaty body before forcing you to wear it. It was far too large and looked rather comical on you and steeped you in his scent even more thoroughly than you already had been.

You blushed and looked away, trying to seem undaunted as he pointed and laughed at the sight while trying not to make it apparent that seeing you in his clothing while wearing his scent wasn’t the hottest thing he had ever encountered.

He quickly left, leaving you to deal with the growing pool of slick that was soaking your pants. The wolf-man only waited until he was out of sight before he whipped out his cock and started fervently jerking off. Similarly, you didn’t make it home either before you had to pleasure yourself.

It quickly became a favorite game for both of you. You'd enter his domain and act like it wasn't on purpose, and he'd chase you away and act super annoyed when he finally caught and marked you. You'd hurl insults at him and tell him he stank, and he'd call you an idiot with no common sense.

And when the other was out of sight, you'd each fervently tend to your arousal.

Though one time when you went seeking to get scent marked, he was curiously absent. He had gone to a little marketplace where all the nearby forest dwellers gathered to trade and purchase wares. No one had told you about it yet. Lupin had a stall where he peddled foraged items and wood carvings he made.

As you ventured deeper and deeper into his land, you made sure to make a lot of noise, even resorting to straight-up shouting insults. You were about to give up and turn back when you stumbled upon his house.

It didn't appear that anyone was home, though, so you were still going to leave... right after you walked around outside a bit so he would know you had been there. Just to annoy him.

While you walked around a bit, you noticed a captivating smell. His smell. Though not very fresh, it still made you leak a bit of slick. It was wafting from an open window. You knew you should have just ignored it and that what you were doing was a massive violation, but like a moth to a flame, you climbed right in anyway.

Your sensitive nose found the source of his scent immediately, a dirty close hamper with some recently worn boxers on top. So you did what any omega bunny close to heat would do... you grabbed his boxers and put the crotch to your nose and inhaled deeply before shedding your clothes and wiggling into his warm covers.

They smelled of him too.

You continued to huff his under garment as you began to wank your cock desperately, his scent sending you fully into heat a bit earlier than expected. You alternated between slipping fingers into your naturally lubed hole and playing with your cock, but nothing satisfied you.

The self pleasure session must have lasted over an hour by the time it was interrupted by Lupin opening his room to the sight of you entirely debauched, your cum on your belly, slick pooling on his sheets, and his underwear in your hand. You stopped immediately when he entered and stated at him wide-eyed in an expression of fear mingled with surprise.

After a long silence, the wolf man finally spoke up, "What the fuck do you think you're doing you gross little weirdo!??"

The room was filled with the smell of your lust charged omega pheromones, he feigned a look of abhorrence while hoping his rapidly hardening cock didn't make a noticeable bulge in his pants.

You were blushing with embarrassment and a bit out of it due to your heat, but you managed to collect yourself.

"I was coming over to bug your grumpy ass when I went into heat... and well... even your disgusting smell will do when I'm desperate..."

The two of you traded insults, and he got slowly closer as the two of you did so.

"Your musk is really inadeq-"

He stuffed your face in his armpit before pulling away and getting into the bed with you. Your mind was fuzzy as your heat and a direct dose of his alpha pheromones claimed your senses.

"I don't... want your smelly dick in me... but it'll help my heat, so..."

You turned away, blushing even more deeply than previously as you spread your legs for him.

"Well, I don't want to either... but whatever gets you to stop being so needy and out of my bed..."

Your hole was so lubed and well prepped by your own fingers that he slid in every inch of his thick cock into you effortlessly. You shuddered as he entered you, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he nibbled at your neck while he fucked you.

"Heh, such a needy slut. You take me pretty well, though."

You scoffed half-heartedly at the comment.

Lupin flung your legs over his shoulders and forced you into a mating press before pounding into you in earnest. You, at least in the moment, abandon all pretense of not wanting it. As does he.

A loud moan escapes you as you cum hard, he isn't far behind and instinctively bites your neck as he knots you. The two of you lay panting a moment before he started grinding his knot back and forth within you. You went several more rounds, until you both were sore and barely conscious. The two of you found yourselves passed out within one another’s embrace.

You both awoke the net morning roughly at the same time. Each of you hardening your expression when you remembered you’re supposed to hate each other.

“Fuck, I can’t believe I let you put that gross knot in me!”

Hey! Don’t act like the victim here you fucking freak, you came into my house and got your slick and pheromones everywhere! It clouded my brain. Fuck look at the mess you made!”

You scrambled out of the covers to get your clothes on as he did the same before hopping out of the bed, your little cotton tail wagging in annoyance.

“Well what the fuck ever, I have to go!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let the door hit you on your way out…”

You made for the door as he asked under his breath, “Same time next month…?”

You had already shut the door behind you by the time you had registered what he had asked. You opened the door briefly to give your response.

“Yes please.”

You then slammed the door, feigning anger, and headed home for a much needed shower. You blushed and grinned like an idiot the entire way back.

#tsundere terato #tsundere x reader #male tsundere #alpha tsundere #tsundere alpha #alpha x male reader #omega male reader #omega reader #tsundere wolf man #male tsundere reader #tsundere reader #monster boyfriend #Friend's OC #Friend's OC Lupin #Tsundere x Tsundere

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aurumalatus · 8 months ago

Text

𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 [𝟓]

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.1k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff and angst, drabble collection, reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress, descriptions of blood and injury

summary.

in which kinich learns the value of all things: lives, friendship, and, of course, you. or, in which kinich realizes that you are the only priceless thing in this world.

author's note. the slow burn is burning... kinich is a little slow to the punch though LOL. this chapter talks about turnfire night, i took a lot of ~artistic liberty~ with the banquet and such so don't hate on me pls. there's a bit of angst in the next few chapters, i'm sorry HAHAHA. pls lmk what you guys think, it's very motivating! i hope you enjoy <3 reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

↢ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ↣

𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗥𝗢𝗢𝗠 (𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗠𝗘)

At some point, the flowers start to speak your name.

Kinich isn’t sure when the idea took root in his mind—it had been slow for sure, a snail crawling over a branch. Living together makes you a perpetual presence in his life, a certainty like the rise of the sun and the glint of the stars. He finds comfort in that knowledge, but rarely thinks on it more than that.

The day he realizes it, the sun is a bright yolk in the sky, honey-yellow and shining dutifully upon his back. A layer of sweat plasters itself to his forehead, and he scrubs it away with his wrist, panting. For as many years as he’s been a farmer, the work hardly gets easier; it still leaves him sore and aching every day.

Across the field, the front door of your home swings open—it’s you that peeks out, waving. Kinich nods back in reply, gathering the vegetables in his basket and jogging back over to you. He frowns when he notices a dark spot on one of his carrots, vaguely noting that he should toss that one out later.

“I ran you a bath,” you offer, leaning halfway out the doorway. Kinich extends a half-smile in gratitude.

“Thanks,” he replies, holding the harvest out to you. You take the basket with a small ‘thank you’, placing it down on your feet. Usually, you would take the vegetables inside right away to wash and cut them, but today, you’re lingering—there’s something on your mind.

But Kinich is nothing if not patient, so he merely waits, arching a brow.

“It’s Turnfire Night,” you finally admit, hands clasped behind your back. “Elder Leik invited us to the banquet, if you’re keen on going.”

Surprised, Kinich glances over his crops. He’s just about done here for the day, and he doesn’t have anything on the to-do list for tonight anyway.

“Do you want to?”

You’re hesitating, likely out of shyness—he watches you rock back and forth on your heels.

“I think it’d be nice,” you reply, short.

You’re trying not to force him, he realizes. You know how much he hates crowded things like that. And usually, you would be right, but he thinks back on the last time he’d visited the village. It’s been long enough, he decides, and one day wouldn’t kill him.

“Sure, we can go.”

Your disposition brightens instantly, nearly ascending with joy.

“Really?” you squeak, hands drawing to your chest. He smiles and nods, shaking his head with amusement when you disappear back inside, cheering. You’re easy to please in a lot of ways.

Kinich takes you up on your offer of a warm bath, then prepares one for you as well. Gone are the days that the two of you washed up in the river—a nicer bathtub had been one of your earlier investments, and Kinich had grown to appreciate the blessings of a warm place to wash at the end of a long day. It does wonders for his aching muscles.

Over the years, Kinich’s house had slowly grown into a home, right under his nose. Your presence had been a driving force in that process.

While his hair dries, he’s in the kitchen organizing a few of the cupboards when you emerge from your bath, footsteps quietly padding against the floor. You call his name, voice thin and uncertain. When he turns, his heart squeezes.

You’re wearing a lovely dress, a forest green with golden accents—he briefly notes that it matches his eyes, then wonders if you had chosen that on purpose. The thought leaves his head foggy.

“What do you think?” you ask shyly, giving a small twirl. Kinich’s gaze follows the flow of your skirt, the liveliness of it. He’s never seen you dressed up like this in all his years of knowing you, and the sight makes something take root in his chest. “I bought it at the market a while ago, just in case.”

There’s a beat of silence, but it doesn’t sit for long.

“It looks nice,” is all that crawls from his throat, thick. The words sound awkward from his lips, he thinks harshly. A heated flush surges up his neck, curling around his ears and resting there. You practically glow at his response, clapping to yourself.

“I got something for you too,” you sing, disappearing into the bedroom. Kinich waits patiently until you return, gesturing for him to close his eyes. He indulges you, and it’s a few seconds before something soft brushes at his forehead, pushing his bangs aside.

A bandana.

When his vision returns, you’re standing inches away from his face—his breath hitches at the proximity. Your gaze is searching as it meets his, your lip twitching at the edge. The excitement nearly pours off of you in waves.

You’re staring.

Kinich’s fingers brush his own cheek, self-conscious. “What is it?”

You lean impossibly closer.

“Nothing,�� you hum, happy as a clam. “I just think it makes your eyes look even prettier.”

You’ve always told him how much you love his eyes, the starburst of jade and gold. You have a tendency to notice things about him that no one else does.

“Does it look nice?” he asks quietly, thumbing at the cloth. He would recognize a product of your weaving anywhere—you must’ve been working on this for a while now. He wonders when you found the time, or even how you managed to do it without him noticing.

You nod, a fond smile gracing your face. “You look really handsome.”

Kinich feels a touch of jealousy at the ease with which the words seem to fall from your lips. Sometimes, he wishes he could speak his mind the way you do. He doesn’t usually hold back in his words—most people he interacts with can attest to that—but when it comes to you, his tongue grows heavy in his mouth.

Still, the idea that you think he looks handsome is…nice.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

You turn and skip back into the bedroom, calling over your shoulder about how the two of you should leave soon. He watches you leave, the dress flowing like silk over your form. He swallows.

It’s really, really nice.

Later on, Kinich holds you close as the two of you grapple toward the village, mountains and trees racing past you. Your giggles are warm against his ear; you love traveling like this, the adrenaline that pulses through your veins. Winking dots of light are already visible in the distance, a rousing cheer reaching your ears—the festivities have already started.

He lands neatly on one of the wooden walkways, taking in the scenery. The village is decorated with bright streamers and vases of blooming flowers, crowds of people maneuvering around the party. You maintain your grip on Kinich’s hand, unwilling to lose him in the crowd.

Two taller figures emerge from the swathe of people, greeting you by name.

“Have you two been taking care?” Elder Leik asks warmly, Chief Wayna smiling at his side. The elders are concerned for the two of you, Kinich knows; they’ve tried many times to convince you to move back to the village. Their efforts slowly ceased as the two of you grew older—you’ve always been steadfast in your independence.

You nod enthusiastically. “We’ve been doing really well! Everyone’s seeking out Kinich’s work.”

Your compliment makes him feel a bit embarrassed—he feels an urge to deny it, but the elders only laugh and congratulate him, ruffling at his hair. He does feel a bit satisfied that they recognize his strength.

“That’s great,” Chief Wayna replies, genuine. “Just remember you can always come to us if you ever need anything. But also make sure you enjoy the party!”

He leaves the two of you with a wink, fading into the crowd, and you take the opportunity to grasp at Kinich’s hand, pulling him along. You’re the most excited person there, truly in awe of everything.

Kinich indulges in some of the food, laughing at the gusto with which you scarf down your own—he chuckles as he wipes crumbs away from your cheeks. Everyone’s spirits are high; the music is loud and roaring, an electrifying song that Kinich can feel in his veins. You perk up at the sound.

“Kin, can we dance?” you beg, eyes bright and lips pouted.

He glances around. Really, he doesn’t want to, especially not in front of all of these people. But the music is slowing, and Kinich can never say no to you, so he sighs, pulling you close and placing a cursory hand at your waist.

“Is this good?” he asks, a murmur. You hum in content, resting your head at his shoulder.

“It’s great.”

A permanent grin seems to have plastered itself over your lips. Kinich absently thinks that it makes you look so much more beautiful—a flower in bloom.

“You’re really happy today,” he comments.

Your eyes flutter shut, delighted.

“I’m happy you wanted to come with me. And I was happy that you liked my dress, and that you liked the headband I wove for you. I’m just happy.”

A deep yearning fills Kinich’s chest at the feather-softness of your voice—he feels an urge to hide you away. Somehow, he wants this side of you to only be for him.

“I did really like it,” he confirms. “The headband, and…everything else.”

He likes spending time with you, he likes your dress, and he likes the warmth that permeates his body when you hold him like this. Everything else seems to fade into nothingness.

For a while, the two of you talk about nothing and everything. It’s a truly peaceful existence. Kinich tries to remember if he’s ever been to a Turnfire Night like this before; the last time he’d attended, he’d likely been too young to even remember the event. You just have a way of replacing his darker memories with pleasant ones.

The beat of the music picks up again, and Kinich feels an instant chill when you lift your head from his shoulder. Still, he sways to the music with you, smiling when you start to sing along to the energetic song.

“You’re a good dancer,” you observe, in awe. Kinich shrugs, smoothly spinning you again.

“It’s not that hard.”

Dancing with you is actually fun, he realizes despite his initial hesitation. Your laughter fades with the passing wind, dissipating into the night, and he can’t help but stare at the way the torchlight glimmers against your skin.

The two of you celebrate until the music dies to silence, until people start to yawn and retire to bed. By this time, the sun is already peeking in the distance, barely a whisper of light reaching you.

Kinich carries you home, soft snores echoing from your place on his back—he decides he won’t tease you about it later.

Instead, he promises himself that he’ll keep taking you to Turnfire Night every year after.

(Then, he promises himself that he’ll always protect your smile.)

By the time he cries for the first time, Kinich is fifteen.

He feels that he knows the way the world works now—those with strength, with value, survive. It’s not that he has any interest in being one of the rich ones with towering houses that line the cliffside. Really, all he needs to be satisfied is a comfortable life with you at the foot of the mountain. And his needs—things like clothes and food—come with Mora, so he makes Mora. It’s a simple existence.

He spends more time with you. Slowly but surely, he starts to bring you on jobs and hunts with him. You’re eager to learn about the work he does, and even more excited to help—your medical knowledge does tend to make things go faster. Still, he feels extra layers of anxiety whenever he knows you’re coming along, his grip drawing tighter around his sword.

It comes on a day like any other.

At first, it doesn’t seem like a particularly difficult job—it’s a run-of-the-mill request, to subdue a Saurian that’s been attacking travelers near the village. Even still, Kinich is as thorough as always in the days leading up to the job, and you let him take the lead. He’s strict about these things when you come along, and you know better than to distract him.

The day of, the two of you encounter the Saurian in a clearing adjacent to the road. It’s sick, you mention quietly, hidden in the foliage nearby—it’s foaming at the mouth, erratic in its movements. Kinich mumbles back his agreement.

It starts to peck at the poisoned berries he’d left for it, movements slowing. He counts down the minutes—at this point, it should be incapacitated enough for the kill.

It’s only when Kinich creeps up behind it, greatsword in hand, that he realizes he’d been wrong. The Saurian seems to switch at the last second, beady eyes burning as it poises to strike. Kinich barely blocks the attack with the flat of his blade, teeth gritted.

“Kinich!” you cry out, running to his side. The Saurian perks up at the sound, tense.

Kinich’s eyes widen. “Wait, don’t come—”

It’s too late. The Saurian’s claw catches you in the stomach as it whips around, sending you flying.

A sickening crack echoes when your back smacks against a rock—you crumple to the dirt, hunched over. A cold breath hisses between Kinich’s teeth as he screams your name.

The Saurian doesn’t last much longer than that, not that he really remembers any of it. He swings his sword, cutting and slicing, sounds of battle piercing the air. It’s only when he sprints to your side that he returns to his senses.

A harsh gash is ripped through your shirt and the skin beneath, a pool of crimson already gathering on your stomach. The sight brings bile crawling up his throat.

“Kin…”

Your voice is weak, and Kinich hushes you quickly, an urge to save your strength. A striking fear has his blood freezing in his veins—he remembers his father’s corpse. Terror hovers over his body, leaving him breathless. He intertwines his fingers with yours, pressing the back of your hand to his lips.

“That hurt,” you mumble, a touch of humor in your tone even now. “I’m tired.”

Your eyelids are heavy, stare unfocused.

“Don’t close your eyes!” he demands. He palms at your cheek lightly, willing you to stay awake. It’s unlike him, the desperation in his voice. “Didn’t you say you’d always be by my side?”

You chuckle, a line of blood dripping down your chin. Kinich thumbs it away.

“I said that when we were kids, silly.”

He swallows, throat bobbing. Your eyes follow the motion unconsciously.

“We’re still kids.”

His voice cracks as he says it, like his words can’t bear the brunt of their meaning. Your heart pulses, a burst of adrenaline coursing through you at his rare show of emotion. It’s only a moment, because the pain returns milliseconds later and a groan escapes your chest.

Quickly, Kinich pulls his headband off, sliding it between his teeth to hold while he pulls the flask of water from his belt. He sets about cleaning your wound, gentle, but the stress is evident in his expression. His hands are shaking; you can feel the tremble against your skin as he eases your shirt up.

“It’ll be okay,” he breathes. Even he is unsure if he’s speaking to you or himself. You nod weakly.

“It’ll be okay, Kin.” You cough, and something in Kinich’s chest snaps when a spray of blood splatters over the hem of his shirt. A spray of your blood. “Don’t worry, okay?”

He can’t even really hear you anymore. He’s staring at the crimson mist, wondering how this had even happened. He’d assumed he was strong enough—strong enough to do this job, strong enough to protect you—and he had been wrong. There must’ve been an error in his calculations, or maybe he hadn’t prepared enough.

He fastens his headband around your wound, stemming the blood flow. It’s almost an out-of-body experience—he hardly even recognizes the hands as his.

He’d gotten too comfortable, and you had paid the price.

Those with strength survive, but that day brings a sobering realization—Kinich is far weaker than he thought.

A cold tear slides down his cheek as he carries you home.

You’re sniffling in pain at each step, the movement irritating your wound, and Kinich feels truly helpless. All he can do is whisper promises and apologies, that he’s sorry it happened and that he promises everything will be okay. It almost feels worse that you don’t seem to blame him at all—you’re apologizing too, telling him you’re sorry for being a burden on his job.

“You’re never a burden,” he spits. It comes out harsher than intended, so he sighs, softening. “You could never be a burden to me.”

You don’t reply.

A thick lump lodges itself in his throat as he feels your blood soak through the back of his shirt. It all almost feels unreal—he feels like he could return home to your warmth and smile and everything would be okay. You have a way of making everything okay.

“We’re almost there, okay?” he murmurs. You’re sweating from the pain, sticky against his skin. “Just stay with me.”

The house feels unnaturally cold when he kicks the door open.

By the time he has your wound properly wrapped, the sun is gone, a distant memory. He sets you down in bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin—you’re already asleep, but your expression is unpleasant, tortured. You must be in pain, even in your dreams.

The thought makes him sick.

With a sigh, he stumbles out of the bedroom, collapsing onto the couch. His hands are still shaking from overuse and exhaustion. He’s not used to the tedious movements anymore like you are—you’re always the one patching him up these days.

A vase sits on the table. It’s full of Saurian Claw Succulents—you’d planted them yourself, cheery at the prospect of decorating the house a bit more. Kinich plucks one of the flowers from the vase by the thin stem, vacantly inspecting each petal.

He wonders what he has to change.

Those with strength survive. Kinich wants to survive. He wants to survive and live his days out with you.

But he’s not strong enough. If you can’t smile at his side, what good is he at all?

Your labored breathing is audible from the other room, the sound grating against his ears. If he had a Vision, or some other kind of power, things might’ve been different. If he had just been stronger—

He thinks back on his younger self, on his innocence, on his weakness. He’d discarded that side of himself long ago in favor of something more powerful, in favor of someone who could protect and take care of you.

There’s no turning back now, he thinks.

The stem snaps under his fingers, under the weight of it all, previous gentleness gone.

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

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h109zone · 28 days ago

Text

closer than you think—nsfw

synopsis. zayne was away on a trip that was cut short, due to the research's goal having been fulfilled earlier than expected, yet you have unintentionally given him a surprise. how else will he handle the sight of his wife in such a state?

pairing. Zayne x afab!reader

requested by. dawnbreakerbrokeme

words. 3.2k

warning. porn with a lil plot, married life, zayne's a lil ooc, dom!zayne, fem!masturbation, light choking, slight humiliation/degradation but no slur, use of sex toy, rough turns soft, use of sir. also not beta read.

a/n. yuurrrr !!!! sorry i took forever to make this, i was busy and also was hella depressed lmfao, but im back tho. the plot to porn ratio in this is like 30:70, also idk why i made them married... it works tho lmfao. nevertheless, i still hope you enjoyed it!!!

minors do not interact. re-read the warnings before reading, as after clicking “keep reading”, i am not responsible for the media you consume.

This ended sooner than expected.

Zayne thought to himself as he was approaching the train station, dragging his wheeled suitcase behind him, as he securely placed one of his hands in his pocket. The sterile-in-appearance station scents itself with the smell of mechanics and the baked goods of designated cafes scattered around, with potential passengers and employees roaming around to catch their stop or see if things are in top shape.

The doctor was away for a medical research conference being held at an esteemed university in a different city—not far enough to take a plane, yet not close enough to drive to, hence the train was the optimal option—which they had invited him to, thanks to his impressive credentials. The trip was supposed to last for a few weeks, yet the mission ended within 10 days, which oddly yet pleasantly caught the young doctor off guard.

Why pleasantly? To make it short and simple, he could go back to you, his loving wife. You were everything to him; you were his kryptonite, his confidant, his best friend, his carrot repellent, the icing to his cinnamon roll, you were the heart that pumps out his blood, you’re as precious as stones—simply put, no amount of similes and metaphors could ever descibe your status in his life. Naturally, he is more than ecstatic than one could be, at least in his way—it’d be a miracle if you spot him smiling widely. Nevertheless, he’s more than happy that it was cut short , and the train ride is only less than three hours, too long but better than hourslong drive, anything to see his darling again.

He hasn’t informed you that he’ll come in earlier than expected, as he wanted to surprise you, which is not on brand, but he thought to use his “man of few words” quality, plus the constant excuse that this research is “taxing,” which wasn’t a lie by any means if we’re talking in technicality, but would it be true honesty if he simply just wanted his wife to not know if his early arrival? After all, these types of events are rare to come, so might as well take this chance.

Meanwhile, back home, there you were, waiting for the day your husband comes back. He has told you of his “busy” meeting, which you completely understood. You have always known that your husband is a workaholic and that work is one of his main priorities, after you, of course, which you highly admire. However, even with things you love can have a limit; your husband’s physical absence has taken its toll on you, and it is starting to appear on the surface.

You missed every aspect of Zayne in both physical and emotional ways. You missed his warmth towards you, you missed his snarky remarks, you missed his caring nature, you missed having yourself lying on his chest while cuddling, you missed the feeling of your fingers entangling his soft raven hair, you missed staring into his green eyes as he looks down at you. You also have missed being on your knees for him, begging him to have him all in your mouth, you missed his struggled and choked up whimpers before he ravishes you on the spot, you missed the feeling of his cock sheathing inside you as you sat on him. You missed him in a way, like you have been deprived of his touch for so long.

You feel very pathetic with this first-world problem you were having, but how can you blame yourself when you have a man like him? Ever since he has gone on that god forsaken trip, you craved him even more than you thought. It didn’t help that you two had had sex on he day of his trip, but you still craved him since then. You would resort to phone calls and sexting, but his work was too tiresome, so you couldn’t get any action out of him digitally due to feeling sympathy for him.

So what choice do you have? You only got your desires and your dominant hand to do a quarter of the job. It’s gotten so bad that you have ordered in advance as soon as Zayne informed you, in fear of a situation like this were to happen, since you are completely aware of his workaholic tendencies. You two were not anti-sex toys, but weren’t up to it since you two were able to satiate your hunger, even with a simple dry hump with heavy make outs does the job exceptionally well, surprising the both of you.

Nevertheless, you did it, and it just so happened that your toy arrived yesterday. It was a vibrator with a contemporary look that claims that it could snug well around your clit and could “reach you to heaven faster,” so you were curious and bought it for the time being before it arrived right at your feet. You’ve already given it a cleanse and sanitized it, as you prepared your room to set the mood like you would if your husband were here; however, for today, it's just you and your toy—unknowing of what’s to come eventually.

You’ve lit up candles and worn your new set—the one Zayne bought recently that you wore once—as you’ve dimmed the lighting and closed the curtain. The sweet yet sultry scent of roses and vanilla permeates the room, while the warm glow of the fiery candles fills the space. The aura of your bedroom has created a sensation of seduction and concupiscence as your desires started to conquer your system.

Your mind wanders with mental images of you and your virile husband has sent you over the edge. You lie across the mattress as you allow your imagination to take over, images of Zayne’s immense and dominating body lying on top of yours, his hands roaming over beautiful islands in your figure, as he whispers praises with his hushed voice while his lips ghost over your skin.

You spread your legs as you allowed your imagination to run wild, fondling your breasts as you were picturing your husband playing with them, pinching your nipples over the sheer material of your bra. This sensitivity you were exhibiting was prevalent, and while it wasn’t enough or as quick without Zayne’s talented skills in making you aroused, it was enough for you to feel a dampness between your legs.

You began teasing yourself with your dominant hand wandering south onto your laced panties, rubbing from the exterior. You shuddered at how your fingers’ light touch created a slight buzz through the fabric, feeling the slick forming even outside the underwear—a scenery you only wish Zayne could see at this moment.

As you continued your languid rubbing, you glanced at your vibrator that lay beside you and pondered as you examined it, almost like you were second-guessing your purchase. You weren’t a frequent user of sex toys since you’ve been with Zayne, it shocked you when you realized that his cock did a sensible and much better job than your old dildo that you would pathetically ride to reach your peak, which your husband—and even when he was a boyfriend and a fiance— has helped your reach there even faster.

However, desperate calls call for desperate measures, and since your husband’s not here, you’ll give in to old habits just to reach that peak again. After you’ve stripped off your panties, you pressed the button that’s in your toy, and it vibrated instantly in your hand at a swift motion. The default setting was not super fast, where it was overwhelming, but it wasn’t too slow for it to be rendered broken, feeling yourself clench. You sighed before you placed the toy right around your clit, making you gasp at loud volume, letting out versus amid your breathy moans.

You’ve only let go for a few seconds to catch your breath, and you haven’t had a vibrator in a while, so the feeling of vigorous vibrations was too much at the start. Once the feeling of unfamiliarity turns to the opposite, you’ve continued your journey to the solo trip to the ninth cloud.

Meanwhile, Zayne has already arrived at Linkon and is currently sitting in the taxi’s back seat. He was looking down at his phone, debating whether or not he should continue with this surprise. He looked back at his messages that were sent to you, where he had mentioned that he would be busy for a few hours. He thought that this could help him not leak any of his surprises onto him. You only replied a simple “okay” with a heartbreak emoji, with no protest or objection, the emoji unintentionally represented his actual heartache at your simple response.

He sighed as he placed his phone back to his pocket, as he glanced at the flowers that sat next to him like passengers, a bouquet of your favorite flowers with colors representing your aura and personality, he didn’t arrange the beautiful sets but he saw it and it was calling his name to give it to you. He smiled at it as he sniffed the flowers, its sweet aroma tickling his nose, the scent reminding him of his home, of you.

The driver could see Zayne’s aloofness crack as a small smile peeked through, causing the old man driving to smile and shake his head.

“Young love,” he muttered to himself.

“I beg your pardon?” Zayne snapped himself out of his world and went back to his cold self.

The driver could only chuckle whimsically, “nothing, son… nothing”

—

Minutes passed, and he’s already at your shared home. He paid, and he and the driver shared their farewell. As the car drove away, Zayne was left with his suitcase and his rapidly beating heart. He felt like a teenager once again trying to ask his date for prom, even after years of being together, and along the way, you two have already gotten married. You still don’t have any children since it was too soon, having you two only been married for a year now, but whenever you two are in the near vicinity of each other, it's like your infatuation towards each other was brought on again, fluttering each other’s hearts.

Zayne walks up to your home with excitement and anticipation.

“Hello, my love—” Zayne’s announcement of greetings was cut short due to the eeriness of his home. Zayne praised himself for diligence and his eye for detail, because from a stranger’s perspective, one would not guess any abnormalities in the interior, but as the resident of your home and lover of yours, Zayne could tell.

There was an indent in the leather couch, and an open bag of chips was abandoned on the coffee table, threatening to spill over the wooden surface and rug. You were definitely in the house, and what further confirmed it was when Zayne closed the entrance door, a faint sound of moaning echoed in the living room—your moans, to be more specific.

Zayne’s heart began beating faster as his mind entered into a war of conflict, persuasion, and betrayal. He never doubted your loyalty, but he couldn’t help that it was getting tested at this moment. He was long gone, and you were naturally needy for his affection, but that didn’t mean you were going to step out and harm the foundation that you and your husband had built for a long time, right?…

Right?

Zayne was not having it, yet he had to calculate his steps—violent and poor planning confrontations can wreak havoc worse than any volcanic eruption—thus, he had to approach the situation assertively yet calmly, as he always does.

He places the bouquet to the side as he walks steps that a slick home intruder would envy at how subtle and quiet they are, and each step he takes, your whimpering sounds heighten their volume while his stomach sinks even further down in anxiety.

He took notice of the door being slightly opened, not enough for you to notice, but enough for Zayne to peek through. Zayne’s fist unclenched as he went through at least ten different emotions all at once, but the main one was relief; no other person was the reason for the moans you were producing.

However, that relief quickly changed into something else, something much more intense as he noticed what exactly you were doing. The rapid sight of you squirming and moaning out your husband’s name and strings of curse words has changed Zayne’s intentions for his return immediately. He took notice of the new object in your hand, which he had never seen it in either of your guys' inventories, which further made him want to do his impromptu plan.

He opens the door abruptly, with a crossed arm, his stand-offish stance has created a presence so strong that you’ve opened your eyes at the source.

You gasped as you sat up, unbelieving of the sight you saw in front of you.

“Oh my god, Zayne, you’re back—“

“Why’d you stop?” Zayne interrupted you with his cold, unemotional tone. The sight of Zayne looking unimpressed at the attempt to relieve yourself left you feeling like you wanted a gaping hole to come and swallow you down… but at the same time, you were ready for the wrath that he was about to unleash on you after unintentionally neglecting you for so long.

—

It was an intense exchange, in one second Zayne, was standing in the door, mossy green eyes were replaced by the dark blown pupils filled with intense emotions that could suck you in like a black hole. The next is now your depraved husband lying behind you, clothes discarded across the room, his neck around your throat, forcing your head to face him while he hungrily clasps his lips onto yours with a fervent kiss. The toy was being held by the scarred hand of Zayne as he placed it right at your clit, this time at a speed you couldn’t handle.

“Z-zayne~” You whined against his lips as you threw your head back. Your legs were shaking and threatening to be closed shut, but Zayne ignored your protest and instead he gripped the back of your thigh even further with his free hand, placing your knee up to your shoulder. You began shaking underneath him, yet Zayne made you stay out, making makeshift restraints with his body.

As soon as he felt you getting closer with your announcing and shuddering, he would pull away the toy instantly, leaving you whining with an unsatisfied ache.

He takes a look at the toy before he throws it away, gripping you even closer to his chest and roughly spreading your legs. You yelped at the sudden maneuver, and you started wailing as soon as Zayne began using his hand at your sopping pussy, his fingers spreading your lip, revealing you even more than you already are.

“I know you wanted me so bad,” he gruffly whispered into your ears, nipping while his fingers teased the entrance with a little swirl around like it's a seductively secret code to enter, “so why didn’t you tell me, huh? Why didn’t you tell me you need me?”

even though you were fogged up with pleasure, you still coughed a response, “I-I didn’t want y-you t-to—fuck~ leave you—“ your words were cut as Zayne’s nimble middle and ring fingers insert themselves inside your hole, finally opening up greet him with openness and warmth.

Zayne’s other hand gripped your throat once again, forcing a lustful yet furious eye contact while his fingers started to move in and out of you in violent and rough intervals, “I don’t care. Next time, instead of wasting time on your toy, come to me, do I make myself clear?”

You thought that the question was rhetorical as Zayne’s finger moved in sync with his words. Each time it gets rougher and rougher, so you could only wail as his longer fingers reached places your fingers couldn’t. However, Zayne’s fingers halts inside of you while the hand on your neck grips even firmer, “I said do I make myself clear?”

You panted as you nodded while choking up, “yes, yes, you do, sir…”

The ‘sir’ was accidental, but oh, did it do wonders to Zayne’s psyche, and his cock too, of course. Zayne pulled his fingers away, making you whimper due to the emptiness, before it was replaced by a gasp as he flipped you to your stomach, head hitting the pillow. He prepped you with his fingers, but he still wanted to stretch you out more. He takes a good look at your ruined pussy, he barely did anything and yet you were starting to drip out your essence down to the sheets.

Oh, he can’t take it anymore.

You attempted to get up, only for you to feel an immense stretch, as Zayne didn’t hesitate to insert his tip inside you, uncharacteristically so.

He let out a breathy growl with the languid start when he inserted his inch little by little. No matter how many times you have had sex, you were still beautifully tight for him, and with this new side of your husband, who were you to complain?

You moaned into the pillow as Zayne got deeper and deeper inside of you. Zayne can only look at your arch and how pathetically you were gripping the pillow to restrain your voice from escaping your room.

He starts pulling you up by the stomach, and he begins thrusting upwards at a sudden, quick pace. You squealed as a result, and you tried your best to conceal it, but Zayne refused and urged you to stop your attempts to quiet yourself.

“No, no, I need—mmh~ Need you to stop—“ he stops to allow a pleasured breathy moan escape his lips, “need you to stop… need—neighbors to hear—fuck!”

The ever-so-quiet doctor has flipped a switch on you as his head kisses your G-spot over and over again, sending both of you over the edge.

The peak is drawing closer and closer, and the overwhelming warmth is approaching. You began to clench everywhere while your legs started to judder in the overwhelming feeling, yet Zayne showed no signs of stopping.

You were seeing white as fireworks began to erupt all across your system, from your brain down to your stomach, while your eyes gave out as you rolled your eyes back due to the fierce climax your husband just gave you.

He pulls you in for a fervent kiss as he slows down, giving you time to calm after the extraordinary orgasm he gave you. However, that didn’t last long as he pulled away and pushed your back down to the mattress. His cock was slicked from your honey and his combined, angry and vigorous red tip stood as he teased and rubbed your pussy with it.

“If you think that I’ll stop, think again…” He whispers, as he places his hands between your head, “I need to make up for missed times…”

“I missed you so god damn much”

You have no idea what has gotten into your husband, but had you known that a sex toy got him like this, you’d do it over and over again.

#—ₕ'ₛ zₐyₙₑ ❄︎♡#lads smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #lnds zayne #zayne x reader #dr zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne lads #zayne smut #zayne x mc #zayne x you

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