#the train of angst keeps coming back to the same rails

[yourstrulynobody]

"Charlie Sees The REAL MONTY?!" well you see these real tears dont you. /silly

[meadowfics]

movie setting

thanos x f!exactress!reader

you run into your ex boyfriend during the squid games

warnings: death (not thanos, its his bestie instead sorry), some changes in the original plot, angst, reader is a blacklisted actress, one use of "bro" towards reader, even though reader is intended to be female.

you were once one of the most promising actresses in korea, starring in a hit drama that still lingers in people's hearts.

your career was supposed to skyrocket, but a scandal ruined everything.

the scandal wasn’t even your fault. the media twisted the story, painting you as the villain.

companies cut ties, contracts were ripped apart, and soon, you found yourself blacklisted from the industry.

millions of won in debt piled up before you could recover.

with no way to earn money, since you did not need to go to college because of your acting career..your world crumbled around you.

to make things worse, you and your longtime boyfriend, thanos, broke up right before everything went to hell.

you loved him.

maybe you still do.

however, you couldn’t drag him down with you, not when his rap career was still holding on by a thread.

he wanted to fight for you, but you wouldn’t let him.

“i’m not going to be the reason you sink too.”

after that, you disappeared from his life.

thano's drug addiction got worse when you left, but that is something that you did not know about until later.

just three months after suffering, you sat at the subway station after missing the last train of the night.

someone finds you..

the salesman.

he offers you the game. an escape. a chance at redemption.

you hesitate, but when you see the money, you know you don’t have a choice.

that’s how you end up on the colorful, dystopian stairs, walking toward your first game just five days later...

you don’t see thanos first. he sees you.

his breath catches when he spots you a few steps below, dressed in the same green tracksuit, looking just as lost and desperate as the rest.

he almost doesn’t believe it.

his ex, the woman he once held at night, the woman he let go of but never truly moved on from, is here.

“no fucking way,” he mutters under his breath, eyes burning into your back.

you feel it...

the weight of someone staring

when you finally turn, your stomach drops.

thanos.

your ex-boyfriend, the man you broke your own heart over, is right there running up the stairs towards you.

for a second, you do not move, holding up the line.

when he comes closer, you turn away, gripping the railing tightly as you climb the stairs faster.

he’s not stupid. he knows you’re avoiding him.

outside on the field..people notice you.

“wait… is that—?”

“holy shit, it’s her! from (drama series)!”

players start murmuring, pointing, whispering excitedly.

some of them grew up watching you on tv, still nostalgic over your most famous role.

“i can’t believe it! i had the biggest crush on her when i was younger!”

you try to ignore the attention, but it’s hard when people are outright gawking at you.

some are obsessed, borderline unsettling.

“you’re even prettier in person…”

you feel their stares, their fascination.

it makes your skin crawl.

thanos notices too.

his jaw clenches as people circle around you like vultures, bombarding you with questions.

usually, this is outside of his personality quirks.

however, he does not like people messing with his girl.

“so, is the scandal real?”

“did you really do it?”

you keep your head down.

you don’t owe them an answer.

thanos watches, expression unreadable as he stands next to namgyu.

he doesn’t step in. not yet.

when the first gunshot goes off, everything changes.

you’re frozen in place, watching blood splatter as bodies drop like flies.

people scream, run, beg for help, but it’s useless.

panic surges inside you, but you force yourself to keep it together.

“green light.”

you move.

you don’t think, don’t breathe,

just follow the rules and survive.

somewhere behind you, thanos does the same.

he sees you up ahead, your body tense, hands trembling at your sides.

he wants to call your name. tell you to focus.

he doesn’t.

he keeps jumping around like a joke..

its the drugs.

he kind of has a feeling that you will be fine.

thanos watches you as he jumps around in joy, pushing people down as if their lives wouldn't be taken too.

“red light.”

after surviving the massacre, you’re still shaken.

everyone is.

you sit in a corner of the room, trying to calm your breathing, when a shadow falls over you.

you don’t need to look up to know who it is.

“señorita,” thanos says, voice lower than you remember.

“you’re really here.”

you keep your eyes on the ground.

“leave me alone.”

he scoffs.

“yeah? and how’s that been working out for you?”

you don’t answer.

“you should’ve told me,”

he mutters after a beat.

“it’s not like that,” you whisper.

he tilts his head.

“really? really bro? ‘cause it sure seems like you wanna be near me again.”

he’s smug. a little too smug.

his ego inflates when you don’t deny it.

you glare at him.

“i’d rather be near you than anyone else in this fucking place, su-bong.”

thano's smirk fades slightly.

nam gyu watches the whole thing unfold.

he sees the way you and thanos look at each other..

the tension, the unfinished business.

it makes him sick.

“you two have history,” nam gyu states one night, arms crossed.

you shrug.

“so?”

“so,” he huffs,

“it’s fucking annoying.”

you raise a brow.

“why do you care?”

he doesn’t answer.

thanos, overhearing, just smirks.

“someone jealous?”

nam gyu scowls.

“shut up.”

despite your best efforts, you start gravitating toward your ex again.

you tell yourself it’s survival.

safety.

being where you are most familiar with..

deep down, you know it’s more than that.

every time you look at him, you remember what it felt like to love him.

you also remember why you left.

he notices the way you linger near him, even if you don’t say much.

“you’re not good at pretending for an actress señorita,” he says one night.

you glance at him.

“pretending what?”

“that you don’t want me back.”

your throat tightens.

you shake your head.

“it’s not like that.”

“sure,” he mutters. but he doesn’t look convinced.

the games are brutal. relentless.

you don’t know if you’ll make it out alive.

one thing is clear:

no matter how much you try to fight it, thanos is a part of you.

and in a place like this, maybe he’s the only thing keeping you sane.

when all of the men went to the bathroom, the dorms were eerily quiet. until the sound of chaos started coming from outside the doors. sounds of metal banding, fists colliding with flesh, grunts of pain, bodies slamming against the walls.

it was impossible to ignore. every player still in the dorm room heard it, heads turning toward the source of the violence, but no one dared to move.

you sat on your bed, your hands clenched into fists against your lap. your whole body was tense, your mind racing.

thanos was in there. so was nam-gyu. you didn’t know what the fights were about, but you knew it wasn’t good.

honestly, you would not have been surprised if your out-of-pocket ex started it all with his bestfriend.

se-mi sat beside you, watching the entrance anxiously. the minutes stretched on like hours, and with every second that passed, the pit in your stomach grew deeper.

one by one, men began filtering back into the dorms, beaten and bloodied. some limped, some had swollen faces, and some had fresh bruises forming under their eyes.

you scanned every face, searching for him.

no thanos.

you exhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the fabric of your pants. se-mi shifted beside you, glancing over with hesitation before asking,

"do you still love thanos?"

the question caught you off guard. your head snapped toward her, eyes wide in panic.

"do i love thanos?" you repeated, almost scoffing. then, without thinking, you blurted out, "no shit, se-mi!"

se-mi flinched at your sharp tone, and the realization hit you instantly. your expression softened as guilt settled in your chest.

"i'm sorry," you muttered, shaking your head.

"that was mean, you're one of my friends here and I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. I'm just stressed."

se-mi shrugged, offering a small, dismissive smile.

"it's fine." she glanced toward the entrance again before sighing.

"i wouldn’t care if something happened to nam-gyu though."

you huffed a quiet, amused breath.

despite the tension, you silently agreed.

then, finally, movement at the entrance.

your breath caught when you saw him...thanos, limping back into the dorms, looking bruised but very much alive.

"su-bong," you breathed, already on your feet before you could process it.

you didn’t care who was watching. didn’t care about the whispers, the eyes on you.

you ran straight to him, wrapping your arms tightly around his body, holding onto him like he might disappear if you let go.

the rapper's arms came around you just as fast, his grip firm, as if reassuring himself that you were real.

somewhere in the distance, you heard someone murmur, "that actress and the rapper are dating?" but it didn’t matter.

you buried your face against his shoulder, inhaling his scent, letting yourself feel the relief washing over you.

he is okay.

thanos pulled back slightly, just enough to press a lingering, warm kiss to your forehead.

you closed your eyes, savoring it.

"see," he mumbled against your forehead, his voice teasing but laced with something deeper, something more tender.

"i know you wanted me back, baby."

you giggled, shaking your head.

"shut up and go sit down."

you slipped an arm under his to help him walk back to the beds, your focus entirely on him...so much so that you didn’t process the absence of a certain someone.

not until the speakers crackled to life, and the robotic voice echoed through the dorms:

"player 124, eliminated."

silence fell over the room.

your body stiffened.

nam-gyu never came back with thanos.

masterlist

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: just some angst, beautiful beautiful angst :) and comfort obvi (if i make a p2), oh and not proof read lol

Part 2

The quiet hum of the night settled around the House of Wind, the moonlight casting silver shadows across the balcony. It had been a long, grueling day, as Cassian was relentless in your Valkyrie training.

You gently pealed off your grimy leathers and sighed, feeling relieved. The House started the bath, and you almost moaned at the thought of rinsing all the dried sweat and dirt off you. The water was warm, the scent of lavender and rose petals filling the air as you sank into the bath. Your muscles, sore from the day’s exertions, slowly relaxed under the soothing heat, the steam rising around you like a soft mist. Azriel was the one to advise on using lavender oil for sore muscles, and in that moment you couldn't be more thankful.

After the bath, you slipped on one of Azriel's old shirts that you stole and climbed under the mountain of covers and stuffed animals on your bed, each a special gift that you collected from your dearest friends and family.

Sleep didn't find you that night, and the moon was high in the sky when you gave up on trying. Soft moonlight shined through your cracked window curtains, casting a glow within the shadows of your room.

You padded out into the hallway, intent on making a cup of tea in the kitchen that would hopefully make you drowsy enough to get a few hours of shut eye before Cassian banged on your door for morning training.

As your tea steeped, you looked out the window at the stars that danced across the sky, feeling completely at peace. You got up and wandered to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. As you stepped out, the night air wrapped around you like a cool embrace, the faintest trace of something sweet carried on the wind. You leaned against the stone railing, feeling the rough texture under your palms, and let your gaze drift upward. The sky stretched out in front of you, vast and endless, a tapestry of stars glittering like diamonds on a velvet cloth. It was like the universe was holding its breath, every star hanging in perfect stillness.

A soft rustling of wings broke the stillness, as Azriel landed beside you.

"You're up late," he joked softly.

"I could same the same about you," you reply.

He gave a rare soft laugh, a welcome sound that filled your belly with warmth and automatically brought a smile to your face. "I suppose we’re both too stubborn to sleep."

He smirked, his lips quirking at the corners. "That’s one way of putting it."

You grimaced. "Bad dreams again?"

He looked down over the balcony, "You know, I think Cassian is mixing up the training lesson tomorrow; we're going to work on group fighting, which I think will be hel..."

"Azriel." You cut him off quietly but firmly. "I asked you a question."

He sighed, paused, then almost imperceptibly nodded.

Your heart broke as he turned his head away from you, and you couldn't help but immediately pull him into your arms, locking your hands around his neck. His hands snaked around your waist automatically, and you couldn't help but notice that you wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of your life. His head tucked into your neck, softly breathing in your scent.

His deep voice was muffled as he whispered. "I should be over them right now, right? How do they still keep coming back?"

Your heart broke all over again.

You regretfully pulled away, and grasped the sides of his head so he focused on you. "Listen to me very carefully Az. You. Are. Not. Weak. You have been through unimaginable things, trauma that any lesser male would have crumbled from. I look at you every day, and I could not be prouder of who you are."

He didn't respond right away, his breath shallow, shadows curling around his feet and snaking up your wrists. His eyes glistened, the faintest sheen of moisture gathering at the rims, as if a single, fragile breath could break the dam holding them back. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze deepened as the air around them seemed to grow heavier, as if the very weight of their emotions was too much to contain.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the world seemed to shift in an instant. Your heart raced, your senses flared, and suddenly, you were overwhelmed by an unrelenting sense of love and protection. The golden bond stretched between you, and Azriel's eyes softened, a quiet hope brightening the hazel you loved to look at. It was raw—too much, too sudden—and it left you breathless for a moment, scrambling to make sense of it.

Before you could even think, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"No."

As soon as the light had come, it left Azriel's eyes, winking out from existence as he pulled away from your embrace as if burned.

Your heart shattered as pain lanced through your chest, realizing what you had done. Your mind raced, trying to undo what you’d said as you fumbled to find your words.

The weight of what you said hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and you could see it in his eyes—how they flickered with confusion, hurt, and something deeper, something far more vulnerable. You had never wanted to cause him pain, never meant for those words to slip out the way they did. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The words felt stuck, trapped somewhere deep inside of you.

He stood there, silent, his expression a careful mask, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. It cut deeper than anything you'd ever felt before. He looked as if the ground had just been ripped out from under him, as though something inside him had been shattered—by you.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You could feel him pulling away, the space between you growing wider with every passing second.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the words trembled on your lips. You stepped forward, but he took a slow step back, his jaw clenched tight. There was a distance in his gaze now, an emotional wall rising between you that had never been there before.

His eyes were distant, his usually calm demeanor now laced with an edge of something darker. You had never seen him like this. Never this vulnerable. Never this raw.

"I didn’t mean it," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. The thoughts of the damage you had done washed over you in waves, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. "I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, just—"

He held up a hand, stopping you, his gaze flickering down as he took a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, as if each word was being dragged from him. "No. I...I need to leave. Now."

His wings flared up getting ready to take off, away from you, away from your desperate attempts to explain. You reached a hand out, in an effort to keep him with you, but he backed away, eyes displaying the agony you felt mirrored in your soul.

As his wingbeats fell away, your chest constricted. You could feel the newly forged bond, this beautiful, wonderful bond you had waited for for centuries that you already fucked up, stretch and start to fray at the edges. You grasped your chest, trying to dig your hands in to physically hold the bond tight and never let go. The first tears finally broke free, and the dam shattered as you sunk to the ground, breaking into pieces, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way it hurt—how it felt like you were losing him.

You desperately drew in breath, trying to get your breathing under control in vain. As your exhales and crying finally quieted, a numbness took over your body. Your breathe was the only noise around, the wind dead and birds silent, and you realized how alone you were. Your best friend, who had been with you through everything, was gone, and he hated you. Your beautiful, kind, loving, selfless mate who deserved so much more than you, was gone, and he'd likely never want to see you again.

[theorphicangel]

"but when I'm older, i'll be moving onward"

childhood best friend! suguru x (gn) reader

synopsis: it's been a while since you've seen suguru. a whole year in fact. whilst being away at university you hope he's still the suguru you still remember. only one way to find out when he texts you...'meet me at our spot'.

word count: 3k

tags: fluff, maybe hint of angst, set in jjk world but can be read as alt modern au, sighh foreshadowing, childhood friends to lovers (?), silent yearning and pining YIPPEEEE

a note from an angel: HELLO!!!! this has been so long awaited but i finally got started with my 4k event!!! this is just a little something to celebrate my writing journey and celebrate everyone who has read and shared my works!! i really hope you enjoy it because i missed writing longer pieces and i am working on the other works as we speak!! lmk your thoughts so we can gush over this piece because i really really love this!!

4k event masterlist

song rec: 'meet me at our spot' by the anxiety

taglist: @madaqueue @http-bell @tyyqqaaa @13-09-01 @celear @moxieisanalien @ehcilhc @amberbalcom14 @thoreeo

lmk if you would like to be tagged!!

The sudden curve of the train tracks causes your body to lunge forward and immediately your sweaty hands reach for the nearby railing. 

It’s full. The train carriage is so tightly packed that it could give a can of sardines a run for their money. Bodies move within the crowd, quiet murmurs of people excusing themselves as they squeeze past to move towards the exits of the train.

Some are people carrying briefcases and handbags, evident that they’re making their way home after a busy work week. Their heavy feet try to remain glued to the floor, maintaining their balance as the carriage surges and shifts underneath them. 

And some are like you. Returning back home. You find some young faces on the train and notice a few suitcases kept near to their persons. You wonder what university they come from, perhaps the same one as yours or maybe a university abroad. The silence of the carriage keeps your thoughts from spilling from your lips. As always you just sit and observe. 

You’ve always been one for observing people. Wondering about their life stories and where they came from. Glancing at a man standing a few feet away you wonder how long he’s been working. Judging by the wrinkles set in his face you estimate his career has been running for over a decade at least. He may be a businessman or a professor. Perhaps even a politician.

It’s through these guessing games that you can distract yourself from the heat of the carriage. It doesn’t help that it’s so humid inside highlighting the hot summer months that await you. It’s nostalgic almost, bringing you back to the last summer in your hometown before you left. 

You hope the coast missed you as much as you missed it. 

/

Lingering near the doors, you’re more than eager to leave. You can’t take the humidity anymore. Despite the sunsetting and shades of orange, red and yellow casting the windows of the train the heat still suffocates the passengers. The back of your t-shirt clings to your skin. Your limbs are covered in sweat and fatigue. Since the early hours of this morning, you’ve been traveling. At this point you’re close to calling the train station your third home. 

Waiting, waiting and waiting for the next train and the next and the next. (Waiting to see him and the dimples of his smile on his cheeks.)

You’re a patient person. Distracting yourself with a playlist that he made for you last summer. 

‘So you remember me.’ He had told you with that sweet look in his amethyst eyes. His words stung you. Deep enough to cause an ache in your heart and before you knew it you were tearing up. You’re upset that he would ever think you were capable of doing that to him. 

‘I would never.’ you replied. He merely smiles before explaining his song choices to you.

For the last song on the playlist he had told you to listen to on your way back home. It now played through your wired headphones, on repeat until you reached your final destination. The squeak of the wheels below keeps you company as the carriage swerves forward, gradually losing speed.

Above, the intercom announces the name of the last stop leaving a reminder to take all belongings and to mind the gap. Outside the window of the door, you see other trains fly past becoming nothing but a blurry picture with a sea of people embarking on their own journey. 

Unease and excitement cause a stir within your nervous system. Your fingers fidget, sick of being in a cramped space for a prolonged amount of time. But most importantly, you’re eager to meet Suguru. It had been months since you last saw him, a short Christmas catch up was all you had before he had to catch his flight for his annual family holiday.

Just at the thought of seeing him again your stomach cramped, nerves eating away at you.

What if he was different? What if he didn’t want to meet with you anymore?

What if your friendship wasn’t the same anymore because of the distance?

Perhaps he met someone else at his university, replacing you with another’s company. You’d heard of his friendship group at his school in Tokyo, enough to know their names and faces but you’ve never met them. Or what if there was someone else you didn’t know about? Someone else he’d rather spend his days with?

But these thoughts were useless – you knew. But it nagged at you. Eating at you from the inside first. 

Glancing down at your phone, an old notification lights up on the home screen.

Suguuuuu :)

Sent 14:54: 

‘Meet me @ our spot! Is 10:30 okay?  :) ’ 

The corners of your lips tilt up before you even realize. Now having a signal to reply, you send a simple thumbs up emoji back as the train now slows. People begin to huddle around the doors. The eager atmosphere to disembark was almost suffocating. 

With a slow lurch the train comes to a slow stop, creeping along the track like a predator stalking its prey. After a long beep, the doors push open and a warm breeze smacks you in the face. It’s at a couple at a time that people begin to file out of the train. You’re cautious as you carry your suitcase over the gap.

At the station the summer heat welcomes you with open arms. The sweltering heat spreads like wildfire across all the platforms. You let out a steady breath before heading towards the exit. A part of you wants to rest your aching limbs and recover from traveling all day but just the thought of reuniting with your childhood friend is enough to spark some energy back into your body.

You wonder if he’s already arrived. Glancing up at the noticeboard, you study trains coming in from the south. It’s easier to find a direct train when coming up from the south, most likely meaning that he’s made it home already.  

Exiting the ticket barrier, your thoughts overly consume you once again. What if he’s dreading to see you? Your stomach twists at the thought again, almost making you nauseous. What if he’s  only seeing you to get the tradition over and done with?

For now you’ll bite those thoughts down, chew and mull over it while you go home and freshen up. 

And maybe later you’ll be forced to swallow the truth.

/

Like a long lost friend, the warm breeze from the sea welcomes you. The sun has since been set over the horizon leaving only the moon to guide you across the sand. With every step the cool sand particles form over your feet causing you to sink. 

You weren’t late whatsoever – in fact you arrived earlier than expected. You make your way across the beach slowly taking in all the details of your hometown that you missed. The reflection of the moon on the waves, the shells that littered across the sand and the palm trees that sway ever so slightly at the breeze. 

It doesn’t take long for you to find a figure sitting alone. If you were early, Suguru would find a way to be earlier. Apart from you and Sugruru, the beach was sparse. Excitement eats up at you, bubbling in your lower gut as you approach him. 

Just from a few feet away you can see the smile appearing on his face. Your body relaxes at the relief that he’s happy to see you. You don’t know why you had so much anxiety about seeing him again as if the months you spent apart would make him hate you. He’s stated to you before that there’s nothing you can do to make him hate you. But you’re not sure if you fully believe that.

Tingling, you approach him. Suguru rises and immediately you can smell his faint scent. Herbal and prickly sweet. Enough to cause goosebumps to run across your skin. Under the moonlight he looks more beautiful than ever, his raven hair tied back with a few loose strands shadowing his face beautifully. You’re at a loss for words at his beauty, unable to croak out a hello. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to say much before he pulls you in for a hug and you get a full whiff of his scent. He smells like the nostalgia of your shared hometown and last summer. Your heart squeezes at the memory of how much you’ve missed him. 

Your previous thoughts now seemed stupid. This was still the same Suguru that you grew up with. The same boy who lived next door that you learned to love. 

In front of you the sound of waves crashing against the shore fills the silence like a gentle swish of curtains opening to welcome the gleam of the sun in the mornings. 

Suguru speaks first, his eyes never leaving yours. The shade of his eyes are still tender as you remember them. “I missed you.”

You can’t help but match the smile on his face. “I missed you too.”

He’s your best friend, always has been. There’s nothing to be scared of. Right?

You take a seat beside him on the little picnic blanket that he brought. Behind you lies your small hometown right on the coast. To your left side is a little bridge connecting your little town to a nearby city. In the distance, small cars cross the state bridge like a trail of slow ants in a pile. The summer heat lingers in the air and you swear you can smell the aroma of hot street food nearby. 

You can feel Suguru’s eyes take you in under the moonlight and your stomach churns. Nostalgia creeps in from your veins and tingles across your skin like goosebumps.

“Are you nervous?” He asks. His tone is still as gentle as it was before you left. The same tone that you hear in your dream when you wake up on a quiet morning. 

The corners of your lips are lifted. “I just get a little nervous seeing you again after all this time.”

You’ve piqued his curiosity. “Why?”

You shrug, debating with yourself on whether to tell the truth or a half truth to him. You can’t lie to Suguru. You never have. Even when you’ve tried he always seems to catch on to your lies. It takes a while for you to get the words out of your throat but he doesn’t rush you. The crashing of the waves accompanies him in waiting for you. 

“I get…nervous that you’ve changed in a way.” You admit. 

“How so?” 

You have to pause to reflect on this too. You don’t look at him when you’re confessing. Your eyes look up at the moon instead. “That university will change you or at least the people will. And in a bad way I mean, change is obviously good but–”

Suguru lets out a huff. “You thought you wouldn’t recognise me anymore?”

You hug your knees a little closer to your chest. There’s goosebumps on your arms. You’re not sure whether it’s from the breeze of the ocean or your anxiety. “Yeah, I guess.” 

Suguru studies you, eyes scanning over your body. The question he has is tentative on his lips. 

“Do you recognise me now?”

Once the words have left his mouth, your head snaps to face him. His jaw is tight waiting for you to answer. Your words have not only made you nervous but that familiar bubbling feeling now churns in Suguru’s stomach. 

“Of course I do.” You say in a sweet but quiet tone, loud enough to be heard over the waves. “You’re still the Suguru I remember.”

Just from hearing your words Suguru holds back his temptations to kiss you. You see his eyes grow softer, relieved by your words. Now he lets out a heartfelt chuckle. The same one that you always hear in your dreams. “I’m glad to hear that. You scared me for a second.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with change.” you specify. “Just…a bad change I mean.”

Suguru nods. “Got it. I’ll change for the good and not the bad.”

(And you believe him.)

There’s so many questions you want to ask him. How’s university? How were his exams? How was the journey back home? You have questions about the big city of Tokyo and how Suguru adapts to such a big population.

“Do you like the city?”

“Surprisingly, our campus is a bit out of the way so I still get a little bit of peace of quiet. Except for one guy.”

“Gojo?” You guessed. You’ve heard all about it from the frequent text messages that Suguru sends. 

“That’s the one,” Suguru lets out a sigh and places his arms behind him so he can lean back, basking in the moonlight. “He’s a pain in the ass but I think you’d like him.”

Your face lights up. “Really?”

He nods. “He’s a bit full on at first but then once you hang around him a bit more you realise he’s just a nerd who didn’t get enough attention growing up.” 

Or rather too much attention and control from his clan but Suguru keeps this to himself. You wouldn’t understand the world of curses and he’s not going to be the one to break your innocence. He’s thought about it before. Telling you everything about the cursed world, the school that he’s really going to, the danger of curses, the hierarchy of clans and the whole secret society that keeps people like you safe. 

(But he doesn’t.)

Suguru grimaces for a moment before speaking. "He told me to say hi to you.”

You snort a little. “Tell him I said hi back.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Why?” You tilt your head. 

“He has a little crush on you from a picture I showed you from last summer, now he won’t stop asking me about you.”

“And did you tell him?”

Suguru’s eyes meet yours. A glimpse of teasing in his orbs. “ I told him everything: your fear of the dark and spiders and heights and any insect that flies. I told him what movies you like and what music you listen to and the embarrassing thing that happened in Junior High.”

“Hey!” You elbow Suguru in the side and he merely laughs, swifts of his hair blowing in his face. After his laughter dies down you make a suggestion. 

“Seriously, you should invite him down for the summer or something. I want to meet this Gojo Satoru.”

Suguru hums. “I’ll think about it.” He lets a natural pause come between the two of you before he asks you a question. “What about you? Did you meet anyone interesting?” 

Knowing Suguru you guess this is his way of asking if you’re with anybody or have a certain crush down at your university. You’re tempted to call him out for his sly question but choose to answer honestly. 

“No, not really.”

‘There’s no one as interesting as you down there.’ is what you really want to say but you keep quiet.

Suguru hums again and you miss the twitch of his hands. A sign of relief. You’re still his. For now.

A comfortable silence stretches between the two of you. You’re both mesmerized by the glistening waves underneath the moonlight. There’s something inside you that wants you to shift closer to Suguru, to feel his body heat and his warmth. You want to touch him. Hold his hand. Make sure that he’s real and not a figure of your imagination. 

(And you have no idea that he wants to do the same.)

But you keep your distance and so does he. The two of you trail into a conversation about studies, mostly your studies since Sugruru can’t tell you what really studies but he listens. Hanging onto every word and occasionally his eyes droop down to your lips. He watches as you hesitate over your words, the way that your teeth bite down on your bottom lip before you continue your story. He imagines what it would be like to kiss those very same lips. He watches you as if you were the last thing that he would ever hear on this earth.

You’re not afraid to meet his eyes but you’re afraid of the sudden rush that you feel throughout your body when you do.

You were a fool for ever thinking that he would change for the worse. Him and that smile. 

It’s the same charming smile that you recognise ever since you were kids. The same smile he gave you when you watched his family move in next door, the same smile he gave you when passing you in the corridor in middle school, the same smile he gave when asking whether you wanted to walk home together after school, the same smile he gave to reassure you when you fell off your bike and he was there to put a bandaid over your bleeding knees, the same smile he gave when you announced that you got accepted in your dream university and it was the same smile there on his face when he waved you off to your train platform.

Just witnessing this heaven-given smile your heart almost hurts. 

You’ve encased these feelings for a while now and you swore you’d tell him before you left but  it just didn’t seem right to break the news when the two of you would be miles away from each other. Sure, you’ve spent countless hours staring at his lips and wondering what his kisses taste like but you refuse to put your friendship in jeopardy because of your feelings. 

Maybe next summer you’d tell him. 

For now you’ll stick to enduring another summer with fleeting glances and late night talks by the ocean. The same old things that you used to do. You welcome change but you’re scared of it. Scared of what lies ahead. Unfortunately for you, Suguru can read you like a book. All your worries and fears are laid out in the open just for him. And so this summer he makes you a promise that you’ll never forget so you can move onward from your fears. 

“If I change then I promise to change for the good.”

[lxkeee]

₊˚ෆ 𝗡𝗔𝗩𝗜𝗚𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡 (author info & masterlist)

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name: luke | age: 22 | pronouns: he/they | gender: genderfluid | sexuality: aroace (demisexual??? still questioning) | nationality: filipino | zodiac: taurus | mbti: intj-t

↬𝑨𝑫𝑫𝑰𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳 𝑰𝑵𝑭𝑶

third year college student | education major | sleep deprived 24/7 | a bundle of depression & anxiety | has multiple tumblr accounts @lxkeeeeee [sideblog for repost] & @lxkeeeee [main account] @hoshxnaa [KAIJU NO. 8 side blog] | made this account to dedicate to lucifer from hazbin hotel | plays genshin impact and honkai star rail | would be writing for she/he readers but mostly fem aligned reader | cat luvr, has 7 cats actually | shit humor — inconsistent —has rizz(training order jk) — my english doesn't english sometimes | indecisive | lazy | self indulgent writer

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[n0vazsq]

Ice Princess | Pau Cubarsi x Reader

pairing . . . pau cubarsi x gf!skater!reader

summary . . . When you're scared about your upcoming competition, Pau makes it his mission to comfort you

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.3k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . ice princess is one of my fav movies of all time so ofc i had to make a fic out of it <33 also fluff bc i feel bad about all the angst ive written so yeah!! hope you guys enjoy <3

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

. . . The arena was nearly empty, the distant hum of the Zamboni echoing through the cold air. You sat on the edge of the rink, nervously tightening the laces on your skates, the cold biting at your fingertips.

The competition was less than twenty four hours away, and despite weeks of preparation, anxiety filled your stomach. The stillness and shine of the ice mirrored your reflection, a still figure on the rink.

Pau leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on you with that soft, thoughtful expression he always had when he thought you couldn’t see. His presence had become a comforting, quiet thing you didn’t know you needed until it was there.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice low, filled with gentle encouragement.

You let out a shaky breath, meeting his eyes. "I think so…"

He grinned, the corners of his lips pulling up in a way that always made your heart skip a beat. "You always say that. And then you go out there and prove everyone wrong."

You laughed, the sound filled with nervousness. "This isn’t exactly the same, Pau. It’s not just practice. The regionals are tomorrow. I can’t mess this up."

He walked over, crouching down in front of you so you had no choice but to look at him. His hands found yours, warm and steady despite the cold. "You won’t. I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for this. You’ve got this."

For a moment, you didn’t say anything, just held his gaze. It wasn’t just the competition that had your nerves on edge, it was the pressure you put on yourself. The long hours of training, the early mornings, the sacrifices.

Sometimes it felt like you were skating on thin ice, trying not to fall through.

"You’re not in this alone, you know," Pau said softly, as if reading your mind. "I’m here. No matter what happens tomorrow, you’ve already won in my eyes."

You felt the sting of tears, blinking them back. "You’re too sweet."

He stood, offering you his hand. "Come on. Show me one more time."

You took his hand, letting him pull you up onto the ice. The familiar glide of your skates steadied you, the world falling away as you moved. The cold of the air against your face, the sharp sound of your blades cutting into the ice.

It all felt like home.

Pau skated alongside you, a little clumsy but focused. He never minded how many times he almost tripped, just wanting to be there with you.

"You’re getting better," you teased, laughing as he nearly fell face first onto the ice.

He gave you a mocking glare, his eyes twinkling. "I’m just trying to keep up with the ice princess."

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your smile. "I still can’t believe you’re out here, freezing with me."

He shrugged, his grin softening. “I'm wearing layered clothes and a coat. You're in…this," He gestured to your skating dress, hands going up and down. "Besides, I’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

You felt the tension in your chest ease, the weight of tomorrow’s competition lifting just a little. You skated ahead, spinning into a perfect loop, the motion effortless, like it was normal.

When you landed, Pau was watching you, his eyes filled with something more than admiration. He skated closer, closing the distance between you. "You know, watching you out here… it’s like you’re flying. I can’t explain it."

You felt your cheeks warm, the compliment hitting deep. "It doesn’t feel like flying without you being my cheerleader."

He laughed, the sound beautiful and warm. "Then I’ll always be here, cheering for you. No matter what."

For a moment, the ice, the arena, the upcoming competition, all of it faded away.

It was just you and him, standing together in the quiet. The world outside the rink didn’t exist; all that mattered was you and Pau.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He smiled, leaning in, his forehead resting against yours. "You don’t have to thank me. I believe in you."

The cold air around you felt a little warmer, the ice a little softer beneath your feet. Tomorrow might be the biggest competition of your life, but in that moment, you knew you wouldn’t have to face it alone.

Pau pulled back slightly, his gaze lingering on yours. There was a vulnerability in his eyes, a quiet strength that made your heart pound. "You know… I’ve watched you push yourself so hard for this. I just want you to know that, no matter what happens, it doesn’t change how amazing you are."

You swallowed hard, emotion welling up in your chest. "Pau…"

He brushed a gloved hand against your cheek, his touch so light, almost like a feather. "I mean it. You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to win to be worth something. You already are."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he gently wiped it away. "I guess I’m just scared," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper. "Scared of failing. Of disappointing everyone."

He shook his head, his eyes set. "You could never disappoint me. Not even if you tried, hermosa."

"You always know what to say." You laughed softly, the sound laced with tears.

"Only because it’s true," he said, his voice firm. "You’re stronger than you think."

You skated away from him, needing a moment to gather yourself. The ice stretched out in front of you, vast and empty, like a blank canvas.

You took a deep breath, then launched into a spin, letting the movement ground you. When you stopped, Pau was watching, his expression a mixture of awe and pride.

"You’re incredible," he said, his voice adoring.

You skated back to him, your heart pounding. "Only because I have you with me."

"Always." He grinned, pulling you close.

The silence stretched between you, comfortable and warm. Outside, the city continued on, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

The only thing that mattered was the promise in his eyes, the unspoken vow that he would be there, no matter what.

As you stood there, the ice beneath you and Pau’s arms around you, you knew that you could handle anything. Tomorrow’s competition was just another step, another challenge. But with Pau by your side, you knew you wouldn’t face it alone.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes searching yours, filled with an emotion that made your breath catch. His hand, still gloved, cupped your cheek gently, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down.

"You’re stronger than you think," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The world around you seemed to fade, the cold air replaced by a warmth that had nothing to do with the arena.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. It was gentle, yet it held all the unspoken words, the promises, the quiet support he had given you.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, a small, almost shy smile playing on his lips. "No matter what happens tomorrow… you’ve already won in my eyes."

Your heart swelled, a mixture of nerves and comfort washing over you. "With you here, I feel like I have."

For a moment, the ice, the world outside, the pressure of the competition, all of it disappeared. There was only Pau, the steady beat of his heart, and the quiet promise of something more.

"I'll love you forever, and I'll support you no matter what, mi princesa de hielo."

After he said that, you knew that whether you won or lost, you'd have someone by your side.

And that someone was the love of your life.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 7)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 6, Part 8

summary: You spend some time with Miguel.

warnings: smut. f receiving oral, fingering, grinding, switchy behaviour from both sides, angst. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this chapter beat my ass icl

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

all-consuming grief,

It’s going to be a warm night. It's ushered in by the kind of dawn that bleeds red and gold, tawny and autumnal in the waning light. Like the washy colours of a Renoir, and he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing the thing he swore black-and-blue he wouldn’t. Reminiscing and romanticising; for the first time in a while, Miguel is able to see the sun set, legs splayed on the brick of his front steps. 

Sitting by worn metal railing, he’s still in his work clothes. He chucked his rucksack on the step above, leaning long legs onto the ones below. They don’t ache as much as they used to, well-trained by a couple months of running and spending more time in the gym. There’s a shake in the fridge, labelled ‘Tuesday, PM’ that he’ll gulp down before bed, and one labelled ‘Wednesday, AM’ that he’ll take before setting off in the morning. In the morning, with cloudy skies and street cars to keep him company. There’s too much pollution, light or otherwise, for him to see some stars. He hasn’t seen stars in a while, now.

Long days seem to have turned into just days somewhere along the way. He can’t quite pinpoint when, and doesn’t really care to, but he thinks his brother would call it “progress”. There’s a grimace on his face as he thinks about it; a word that tastes like mud and feels like swirling cement in his mouth. It’s all bullshit, really. Gabi’s paltry attempt at therapising him, one which he would usually nip in the bud - taking metaphorical shears to slash at weeds and dense conversation. Catch-up calls about how he feels, how he’s doing – when he’s fine, he always is – as if Gabi is waiting for a shoe to drop. 

He’s waiting for Miguel to have an epiphany, a breakdown the size of a collapsing star. It’s not coming, he keeps telling his brother, and the sooner the younger O’Hara realises – without the wide eyes and the pity – the better for the both of them. After all, Gabriel is his baby brother, and he’s spent his whole life worrying on his behalf: playing hide-and-seek in little closets and putting back together broken toys. Trying to drown out the sound of shouting and broken plates. They’re too old for all that, the worrying and gulping back tears, walking its well-travelled paths – and it doesn’t feel right that Gabi should do the same for him.

He sighs, deep and heavy and rolling down that quiet street. After what feels like forever, he’s tempted to lie down, to rest his head on the stone, close his eyes and think of something else. Of someone else - lots of someones, at this point in the day. He’s not the weepy type, but he is tired; shaking off the wear and tear, and fighting off sleep. 

Then he sees it; a figure walking towards him, all sandals and khaki shorts and smiles. Mr Estevez, donned in his year-round attire of a polo shirt, a little tight around the middle, and cargos cut off below the knee – finally appropriate, considering the weather. He’s strolling closer like he’s got all the time in the world. If Miguel wasn’t so exhausted; the bone-deep kind, the kind that seeps into skin and lines a casket; he would’ve been annoyed. Instead, he hisses, furrows quickly deepening. 

“Buenas, Miguelito!” Mr Estevez beams, scratching at scraggly facial hair. 

Miguel frowns, but greets him nonetheless: that politeness drilled into him during childhood rearing its head.

“Buenas tardes, tío.” He grits his teeth as he gets up from his seat, creaky joints and all.

His landlord, the building’s handyman, owner of half a dozen shops all over the city, and Miguel’s uncle-that’s-not-really-his-uncle; Mr Estevez wears many hats, staying bright and informal regardless. He’s known the older man since he was 6, so he can’t be too disappointed; his tío has been late for weddings, funerals, and his little boy’s birth – it’s not much of a surprise that he’d be late now, too. Miguel stretches out a rough palm, and the man stops just shy of his hand, completely ignoring it. Before he knows it, Miguelito is engulfed in a great big bear hug, with wet kisses pressed to the apples of his cheeks. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, as usual, so they hang limply; arms flailing to his sides like a t-rex.

They separate, and he coughs at the great big hand that slaps his back. Grumbling, he walks up to the door, bag over his back, and stands expectantly. Mr Estevez doesn’t follow, instead dusting himself down to sit on the steps.

“I just need to get into the building.” Miguel starts. “Forgot my keys, and I've been here for hours. M’tired, and I–”

“Let’s sit, Miguel.” He scoots over, making space. “Look at the stars.”

It’s clear the older man isn’t moving. Begrudgingly, he obliges.  “We’re in the middle of the city. You only see “stars” in the river – beer bottles and tinned crap reflecting the lights.” 

“Language.” He gets a sharp nudge to his ribs.

“Discúlpame, tío.”

They stew for a moment, bathing in the silence that follows. The man besides him is the first to speak.

“I spoke to your mother.”

He’s scoffing and moving to get up, before feeling a firm hand on his shoulder.

“She’s worried, Miguel. Says you haven’t called in a while.”

“She hasn’t called me either."

“She’s stubborn.” The man besides him chuckles, bringing gentle eyes to meet his own. "Pig-headed. Remind you of someone?"

Miguel rolls his eyes, he just can't help it. 

"She’s also the one that moved back home, so either way–”

"You know it's all been hard on her." 

" –on her? It's been hard for her, surrounded by family, after she abandoned me? A-After…" His voice gets dangerously hoarse, threatening to crack under the weight of those words. 

He can't stand the pitiful look sent his way: brows drawn, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Sorry. It's… It's nothing. I'm fine. Just fine."

"I didn't ask if you were fine, Miguel."

–even though you're definitely not okay. That part is left unsaid, spat onto the pavement like bitter backwash. 

Mr Estévez sighs, ruffling a hand through Miguel's hair. It makes him hiss and dart away from the hand, pouting like he's a little kid again. He doesn't like it; the way he feels like all this life he's lived has been for naught. Trials and tribulations, and yet he doesn't feel that ache of growth; still stuck in the shoes of an awkward teenager. 

"You think too much, Miguelito. Always have." He smiles, the kind that deepens the wrinkles around his mouth. It twists Miguel into knots, mouth dry as he tries to untangle himself from that feeling. "I'm worried about you, kid."

He sniffs, eyes trained towards the pavement. There it is again, worry; complicating and unravelling what was meant to be just another day. 

"It's today, isn't it?" 

All Miguel does is nod, shakily. It's been 2 years since his heart was ripped out of his chest. It heaves now, an erratic rise and fall he’s doing his best to control. Breathe, deeply and calmly; try not to think about his little girl in that hospital bed, and those blank eyes staring back. 

“M’fine.” It comes out more desperate than he intends it, and he curses under his breath. If Mr Estevez hears the crude language, he doesn’t react.

Miguel is tense, hunched over the bag on his lap and curled into himself like prey – spitting and prickly and clearly uncomfortable. He’s never been the weepy kind, but the older man can’t help but think it’s a shame; so much love, and nowhere to keep it but inside. Miguel's bottled it up; the memories of precious Gabriella, all that warmth she brought out in her father; and he's turned them to poison pills to keep himself sick. 

Miguel would never admit it, of course. He’s too stubborn. Pig-headed.

His tío sighs, moving to get up. He groans, in that dramatic sort of way he knows Miguel can’t stand, but still, there's a rush to help him up. Producing the door keys with a flourish, he pulls from the depths of cargo pockets, and unlocks the main door. Ushering in the younger man, who has grown so tall he needs to duck as he climbs the narrow stairs, there’s a finger prodded into the back of that cotton button-up.

“Miguel?” He starts, revving up a conversation he’s been meaning to have for a while now.

“Hmm?” 

They both wait by the entrance of the apartment. The keys jingle in Mr Estevez’s hand.

“If I open the door, will I find out that you’ve driven away another one of my tenants?”

Conveniently, there seems to be a rather interesting spot in the hardwood that Miguel pokes with a dress shoe. 

“...depends on your definition of 'driven out', tío.”

“That’s the third one this year! Not even 2 months– I knew there was something up. Not a single one of those little smiley faces to my messages, and–"

“I’ll make up for his side of the rent, you know I will.”

“I don’t like it. You should be saving up, to go get a house and settle down somewhere."

“I like living here, and I’ve said multiple times I’d pay the extra to live alone–”

“And then what? You rot in your room for the rest of your life?”

“I don’t– rot feels a little–”

“Nonsense. You’re lonely, Miguelito. If you don’t like it, you move out.”

They both know he won’t. It’s not really an option; the apartment is affordable and he likes living so close to his old neighbourhood, his old haunts. It’s like he’s tethered to that place with a bungee cord wrapped under his ribs, always snapping back.

“No promises, tío.”

“Doesn’t matter, Miguelito.” He sighs, scratching at stubble. “It’s been hard to find other tenants, with half the neighbourhood drying up. But as soon as I do–”

He points an accusatory finger at Miguel, and the sentence is finished for him.

“...best behaviour, I know.”

“Best behaviour.” Mr Estevez repeats, and starts to fumble with the keys. He throws a little comment over his shoulder. “I liked your lady friend, ages ago… the scary one, with the blue hair. She was–”

“Xina’s not scary, when you get to know her.”

“She was funny. Very pretty. Always paid rent on time, gave me food when I came to fix the heating…”

“It's out again, by the way.” Miguel chews his lip, with a strange expression. “And yeah, she was.”

The door swings open. Mr Estevez doesn’t let him off the hook, though, engulfing him in a warm hug. This time, in the doorway of his apartment, eyes screwed shut; he doesn’t try to wriggle out of it, melting into his tío’s arms. It feels different now that he’s not a kid: angry and hurting with a different sort of ache, but he leans into it, all the same.

~~~

There's a pressure released from the apartment, lately. Miguel feels… well, first of all, he feels ; thinks with his heart and not his head, sometimes. It's lighter, coming home with that weight on his shoulders and with someone there to distract him from it. Living life, he thinks, for the first time in a while. Vivid and vibrant and awake ; relishing the autumnal weather. It's always been his favourite season, despite how childish he thinks having a favourite season is; something you had asked him on a whim one morning. 

Normally, he wouldn't entertain it, and with all the shit Pete spews, sometimes, he's had plenty of practice ignoring it. A well-timed dirty look, and then he'd get his head down and work; occupy himself with something less frivolous. But when you say it, with half a piece of toast sticking out of your mouth, it doesn't feel like a chore to answer. It doesn't feel like a stupid question, and he finds his face growing warm at the thought of you caring about these little things – wanting to know him , however that comes. 

And so, his answer is Autumn. It's a little stilted; but catching him off guard after a run will do that to him. It's purely practical , he says, eyes tracing the slopes of your body in that shirt and shorts that stops at your thighs; high enough that he feels like a perv for looking. Autumn has temperate, even weather. Perfect for sweaters and hoodies. Warm enough that you don't need a jacket. Just right. You snort, nudging him. Bullshit, Mig. You flutter your eyelashes mockingly, your tone light. You just think it's the prettiest. 

And he hums, catching you off guard. You're both drawn towards that little window over the sink, the one that overlooks a fire escape and the street. He's had that view for three years, now. Sleeves always rolled to his elbows as he does his washing up, but never quite looking. The street just below is framed in its windowpane, quite the pretty picture. Crisp leaves scattered on the sidewalk, carpeted in red and honeyed amber. And he can feel it from the other side of the glass; smell it, touch it, taste it. Autumn: hot chocolate and giggles, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and cupping tiny palms to warm them up. Sunsets seen for the first time, watched through bus windows on the way back from school – he misses those the most. 

"You don't think it's beautiful?" You say, leaning your head towards the half-open window. 

You don't notice, but he looks over to you, swallowing roughly. He says it with a small voice.

"I…I do."

You're darting to the bathroom not too long after, breaking the spell. Frustrated, he resists the urge to curl up into a ball and scream into his palms. He's got what he wanted; a good fuck, a pretty face, a warm smile. Friends, at the most, who happen to get the other off after a long day. A welcome distraction, at the least. He's got what his body has been telling him he needs for the past few months. It makes him feel weird, so oddly settled; but, all things considered… 

Miguel is doing okay.

“...and I wouldn’t normally ask, but I swear , I left him…o-on read and he won’t stop texting me.”

Really, actually; he’s doing fine.

“It feels weird– mmffuck– but I can’t ignore him any longer.”

Maybe even… good. Better than okay.

“I still have a bunch of my stuff over there. At least half of it is clothes and books, a-and I’ve put it off for as long as I can…”

He hums in response, pulling quiet curses from you, above. Pressing the flat of his tongue onto your clit, your hips jump up and he purrs ; rearing up to dive even deeper into your pussy. Too quick for him, you catch on, hand in his hair to pull him up.

Sitting up on your haunches, he rests his head on your bare thigh – licking the taste of you off of his lips.

You tilt your head, looking at him with those eyes he can’t help but marvel at. A beat passes. 

“...so?” You start, expectantly. “Will you help me or not?”

His response comes in the form of teeth nipping at pillowy skin. You yelp, and swat him away whilst he chuckles.

“I’m serious , Mig. It’s too much to pick up by myself. And you’re the only person I know with a car…”

“ Ouch, hermosa. ” He frowns as you peter off. “Is that the only reason you’re fucking me? For my car?”

“If I say it’s because of your sparkling personality, will you help me?”

For a moment, it seems like he’s got his brows pressed together like he’s seriously considering it, but it ends up being just smoke and mirrors. He’s pretending , biding his time to hook a hand under your legs and force you to lie down onto the bed. Your head hits the covers with a gentle thump as he hikes up the lip of that big tee even further; squeezing your thighs around his head like earmuffs. 

It’s when he makes eye-contact, tongue circling your hole, that you realised you’re fucked. Up until now, he’s been toying with you – playing with his food, so to speak – lazily swirling his tongue around your clit and pressing buttons to see exactly where to push. And you'd welcomed it, a hand in his hair as you talked about your day – which he'd asked for, of course. 

Now, he's insatiable, eating you out like a man starved; all tongue and wet kisses to your swollen bud. You're slightly raised up on his shoulders, clamping around his tongue as he fucks into you fervently. Big palms spread you wider, and he hums into it, content.

"So pretty ," He sets you down, pupils blown as he studies the way your back arches and the way your legs shudder in the sheets. He slides upwards, sitting next to you, tracing a hand across the gentle curve of stomach that peeks out from your big t-shirt. 

Still coming down from your high, you're only just able to register it: he looks mesmerised, a dopey smile plastered on his face. 

"What?" You scoff when a moment passes, and his hand inches closer towards your lower lips. 

"M'just looking." He shrugs, with a little smile on his face. "I'm not allowed to look?" 

You scoff, but you're still shaky so it comes out a little more pathetic than you intend. Nevertheless, you start to sit up but he stops you with a gentle hand at your chest. 

"Call him." He says, pressing two fingers to your clit and then down to your gushing slit. 

Maybe it's the way he hunches over you, eyes flicking towards your lips, or the way he slips those fingers in; but your eyes go wide, and you're choking on your next words. 

"Call… Call who?" Playing dumb, dancing on a razor's edge, and Miguel only quirks up an eyebrow at the stupid question. 

"You know who." He says it low, smooth and dulcet as he curls his fingers at that sweet spot, experimenting. "I'll help you, fine. But I want you to call your ex, too. Let him know when to expect us. Is that okay, sweetheart ?" 

That last word comes with a twang, the lilting tone of what sounds like mockery. He twists the knife, nudging the flat of his palm onto your clit – still tender and throbbing from your last orgasm. 

Before you change your mind, you pick up the phone laid face down on the bedside table, pressing shaky fingers to its screen. You don't dare to look up, knowing Miguel is watching; dark eyes studying your every move. 

Flicking his wrist this way and that, he swallows roughly as your fingers stutter on the screen. Not completely satisfied, he still has the time to look smug, settling into a comfortable pace. Finally, your phone rings with a tell-tale dial tone. It rings once. It rings twice, and–

"Hello? " The voice is muffled as it says your name. Put it on speaker, Miguel mouths and you oblige.

"Hey, J-Jamie." The phone is shaky in your hands, so you lay it out next to you on the bed. 

"It's late, baby." You don't have time to be annoyed at his tone – or the unwarranted pet name – because Miguel speeds up, pumping in and out of you with a little more force. 

"I… I know. S-Sorry." You clamp down the moans that threaten to erupt, rocking your hips in time with the thrusts. 

Head lolling back into the sheets, you spend a good ten seconds in oblivious bliss, until Jamie breaks the silence. 

"You've been ignoring me for ages, baby… and then you call out of the blue. What is it?" He's tired, it sounds like. Irritated for sure. 

"Just w-wanted to–" Miguel presses his thumb to your clit and you jump. Once back down to earth he has to prompt you to answer. "-my stuff! Fuck , I just want to pick up my stuff."

"...now?" 

Tomorrow. Miguel mouths. 

"Tomorrow. " You repeat, wrapping a hand around his forearm to slow him down. It's too much, too fast; and he has the audacity to add another finger, scissoring out to stretch your cunt. 

"O-kay. " He clicks his tongue, with some things rustling in the background. "Okay. You're acting weird, but..."

You're conflicted. His tone makes you melt, reaching for your phone to answer when Miguel snakes a hand under your shirt, palming your tits. To your surprise, he presses shaky kisses to the skin, rolling around your nipple with the flat of his tongue. You keen, clamping a hand around your mouth to stop the noises that spill out. 

"...we still need to talk about what happened. About how we left things." 

Anger flares up at your chest; hot at the sheer gall. He wants to talk? Now, when you had been met with a brick wall of silence; begging and begging for even a simple explanation? 

What made it sting even more was that even after the breakup, everything happened on Jamie's terms. He broke up with you, providing little warning. He completely ghosted you, refusing to answer countless calls and messages. And now, he wants to talk; to make himself feel better and wank off his own ego, no doubt. It's not bitterness that makes you press Miguel closer, to revel in the pleasure that he gives you, you convince yourself. It's for you ; finally, unabashedly, just for you. 

You don't bother to answer, hanging up the call with a click. Tugging at his hair, you pull him off with a wet pop; slick-soaked fingers slipping out of your cunt.

He cradles your chin, angling you upwards. 

"You okay? Too much?" It barely registers; you're too focused on the tangle of curls framing his face, and the rosy pout of messy lips. 

You shake your head, writhing against the sheets. 

"More." You move his hand over to rest between your legs. "Please, Miguel."

His eyes flutter, tongue darting out to wet his lips. 

“Eyes on me, baby.” 

He says it with sobering clarity, bolstered by just how precisely he slots against your bare pussy. You can feel it, the full length of his cock; pressed up against you as he slips it out of his sweats. Head spinning, it slaps onto your stomach. Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets. Oh fuck. He's big. 

"Just like that." He coos, spitting into his palm and pumping his cock. “Wanna see how pretty you look when I make you cum.”

~~~

When tomorrow comes, you’re still sore from the litany of bruises and hickeys littered. It’s a Saturday, and you’re up bright and early. Well, Miguel is up bright and early, clattering around in the kitchen as you wake up. 

He seems energised, mug of coffee in hand whilst you rub the sleep from your eyes.  You waltz into the kitchen through the open doorway, morning breath and all. 

"Morning," You say, soft and giggly at the way he jumps ten feet in the air, too wrapped up in himself to notice at first. 

"Morning." He breathes, melting when he sees you in the shirt he had picked out for you last night. He shakes himself out of it. "Hungry? I can make something."

"No, no. M'good." You sidle up to the counter, head clocked at the fancy machine on the heavy slab. There's a question on the tip of your tongue, one you roll between your teeth. "Could I have some coffee? I mean… could you show me how?" 

Where you expect laughter, mockery, or surprise that you've lived here for months and can't figure out the coffee machine; he nods, patient and calm. You ask him more questions; curious with every flick of a switch, and the way he lights up when talking about it. To your surprise, you want to know more – anyway that comes. 

He's talking about expensive beans, and his favourite roasts – and a place across town that sells the exact kind he likes, but it's too fucking gentrified for him to go there more than two or three times a year. That makes you giggle: his little pout, the press of brow; and he looks up in surprise before joining you in light laughter. 

You finish, pouring cream into his special mug with a flourish, and he steals a sip before you can. You elbow him away, angling for that stolen taste. When you do, it is deep and rich; sweet in a way that reminds you of Miguel, grounded and balanced and silky. In short, it's the perfect cup of coffee. More than content, you hum. 

"Is it good?" He asks because he's already making mental notes, planning to greet you with a hot flask of the stuff in the mornings – if it means he gets that smile, of course. 

"Very." Fervently you nod, lips curved to the ceramic as you blow; and Miguel is trying really hard not to stare. Maybe it's the fact that he's seen you in a way not everyone gets to; pretty and vulnerable and writhing on the tip of his cock; but it has him fending off vivid daydreams. Your lips wrapped around his length, his hand pressing you further down, feeling that warmth as you choke on his–

He blinks and you're gone, padding off to your room with that mug of coffee. You return not too long after, phone in hand and tapping away at the screen. Miguel ignores the way it makes him feel, having your attention and then losing it just as quickly. Like a kicked puppy, he resists the urge to beg for more – of your time, of your attention – turning away to clean up instead. 

"I spoke to Jamie," You start, leaning with your back to the counter as he rolls up the sleeves of a comfy sweater. "He said he'll be around later in the evening, after his shift. Around 10. Is that okay?" 

He shrugs, not caring either way. You're a friend, and he's helping you because that's what friends do. He can still taste you on his lips, but it doesn't mean anything. Not in a way you'd want, anyways. 

"Sure." He doesn't turn around, stealing glances at the open window whilst he clatters around. "I've got a session later on anyways."

He catches a flash of something on your face, and you're pushing it away; prickly and uncomfortable. In his defence, he's stopped bringing people over for faux chemistry tutoring and there's less banging coming from across the wall. Less , but not completely gone, because you've learnt he has a penchant for dropping shit and cursing like someone's Dad. 

But you can't help but think about Sarah , and Jia …. and how close he would get to Sita on the dining table. Fuck . 

You're sighing now, tracing the curve of his jaw as he settles in front of the window: jaw set, arms crossed, and distant. He does that sometimes, goes off somewhere else – all teeth and claws. Tense, brows drawn up in a way that makes you want to smooth them out.  

You put your phone down and mug away, sliding across linoleum to gently nudge his shoulder with your own. 

"Are we…" He starts, and you track his line of sight to a quiet street below. He hums, without looking away. "Are we good?" 

It makes you turn. You blink, as if out of all the nonsense you bicker about daily, that was the most ridiculous. Good? Good? Of course we are, of course we always will be. How could we be anything else? You shut it down before it spills out of your mouth, overzealous and desperate. 

He clarifies with a nervous cough. "Last night. Was it… good?" 

His frown deepens, and you wonder if it's just you that hears it in his tone. His real question, the one that makes you splinter and creak like a felled oak tree: Was I good? Am I good enough?

"Yeah. " You say it like the most obvious thing in the world – and to you, it is. For all his flaws; assholery and its trimmings aside; Miguel has never been a bad lay. You don't even think he has it in him; he couldn't half-ass it if he tried.

"It was–" Fucking amazing . The kind of thing you'll fuck yourself to for the foreseeable future. Cathartic and breath-taking and hot . All of the above. 

Miguel finishes your sentence with something a little less… horny. "It was a lot, wasn't it? I wasn't really thinking, how uncomfortable it could be for you, and–" 

Gently, you laugh and cut him off. "I've been having mediocre sex for basically the whole of my adult life, Mig. This is… exciting and new. I like it, I really do."

Exciting and new. It brings him crashing back down to earth. You're enjoying the way he makes you feel, the thrill . Not… him. Not really, anyways. That pang of disappointment feels different, for some reason. He's never liked the song and dance of flirting, but he cherishes its rewards: of being wanted, and someone wanting him . So that fiery flame of need; deep and heady; is unfamiliar under his skin. 

"We can slow down, if you'd like." You bring a hand to his arm, warm and gentle. "I don't mind. We can go back to just messing around on the couch…."

You've got a cheeky smile when you say it; a vague memory of a different time, when you had gotten a little too comfortable on the sofa, leading to hands stuffed in trousers and pressed up against one another. Quick and desperate, you had wanted to see him fall apart; like he did your first night together, and the next, and the next. 

He gets closer, sandwiching you between the counter and his body. With a gentle hand, he strokes your hip, bunching up the fabric to get a peek of thigh.

“What do you like?” He’s deadly serious, red-brown eyes searching your face for something he can’t quite place. And just like that, the air is thick with tension. All you can manage is a limp shrug. 

“I don’t know, really.” It comes out as a croak , as you’re much too occupied with the shrinking gap between you both. “I haven’t done the things you’ve done.”

You’re making assumptions, of course. Filling in the gaps of what you’ve learnt in the past few months; of alleged threesomes and a laundry list of women at his feet. He’s an asshole; pretty and gruff and sarcastic; but God , he knows how to touch you just right.

“I could show you.” He slots a knee between your thighs and your head spins. “Make you feel good. ”

Before you can think, you’re nodding; chewing at your lip to bite back moans when he rucks up your shirt. He nudges your legs apart, both hands on your waist as he slots himself between them. You can feel it; quickly hardening, loose underneath sweats. Miguel slides wide palms to your ass, kneading its globes. With one hand, he picks up your leg by the thigh, and snakes the other to your pussy. Bare, because you’re trying to kill him, of course, and he groans at the feeling of his hand at your cunt; already wet and pliant for him. 

After a few wet taps to your hole, obscene, he slips himself out and you heave; pussy fluttering at just the thought of him inside you. Gathering up your slick on his palm, Miguel pumps his weeping cock, pressing its tip to your hole. 

"Still sore, Miguel." You hiss, looking down at where you both meet with the prettiest pout he thinks he's ever seen. 

It has you clawing at his back for purchase as he finally sinks in, stretching you out in that wonderful way he did last night. Except this time, he's slow and careful; steeling himself with shaky breaths. 

"Oh, fuck. " He settles in about halfway, stopping to hike up your leg just a bit higher. "Want me to make you feel better?" 

He says it breathless and crooning, forehead comes to rest on yours. With that other hand flat on the counter, you're lifted up to only toes on the floor, and he angles himself to buck up; filling you deep, and cock sliding past that sweet spot inside. He sets a pace, grinding into you, rather than fucking. If last night was dirty ; taboo, quick and primal; then this morning feels different. Intimate and reverent, he rolls his hips perfectly ; sending flashes of that first night down your spine. 

With the moans that spill out of your mouth, it takes all of Miguel's willpower not to swallow them in a kiss. Impossibly close, he traces up your thigh with a large palm; eventually pressing into the small of your back. Arching into him, your lips barely brush together, and you're both panting into open mouths; drunk on pleasure. 

"Miguel." There's a warning somewhere in your tone; underneath the layers of lust, you remind him of your previous agreement. 

"I… I know. " He swallows, nose pressed to yours, eyes screwed shut. He thinks if he opens them, he might spill into you right then and there. 

He's trying, he really is, tracing your cheek with his nose and mouthing at your neck – light kisses against the skin. He smells like coffee, bittersweet and heady, and you groan, rocking into him in a way that rubs up against your clit – before finding an ounce of restraint and putting a hand to his neck. 

You apply a little pressure, intending to push him away, but he likes it: eyes fluttering open, and mouth curved into a little O. It's a pretty sight that has you drooling, tits pressed against him as he practically purrs . And so, you pull him closer; nails dancing underneath his shirt, whispering filth into the shell of his ear. You're close, grinding into him like the push and pull of waves, merely waiting for the crescendo of orgasm to take you out to sea. 

"I'm close, Miguel." All he can do is hum, pulling you closer. "Fuck, I feel so good. You make me feel so good."

"Yeah? " He asks, needy in a way you haven't quite seen before. 

"M'gonna cum," You nod. "...because of you, baby. You did good. So good. Shit, ohh –g-god–" 

You clamp down on him, gushing around him with shaky legs. And Miguel is good; patient as he watches you fuck yourself through the aftermath. When it finally slows, he slips out with an obscene squelch clamping a hand to the base of his cock and leaning heavily on the counter. 

"It's okay," As if on cue, you kneel in front of him as best you can, tugging down your shirt to expose collarbone and the swell of tits. 

Miguel growls, grunting as he splatters thick cum across your chest, pumping his poor cock through it. 

He wouldn't have lasted a second longer, not with that smile across your face; smug as you swipe fingers across your chest and lick up the mess he's made. 

He's sighing, tucking himself back into gray sweats and pulling you up with a hand in yours; grumbling as you absentmindedly follow him to the sofa. 

You're leaning back onto the arm of the tattered material, and he settles to sit so your legs lay in his lap. He's frowning, again, and it makes you giggle, still licking up what's left on your fingers. 

He rolls his eyes, tapping a spot on your chin. A fat glob of his cum, dripping from your jaw to your neck. You miss it on the first swipe, and he gets impatient on the second, grabbing your hands and clambering over you. He drags the flat of his tongue to your skin, licking it up for you – and your eyes go wide. That… that felt good. 

You giggle at the sensation, so attuned to your roommate that you can hear it: his eyes clattering into the back of his skull, as he rolls his eyes a second time. 

"Is that okay?" He says it into the skin, pausing over a particularly tender spot. "Not too far?" 

"Feels nice, Mig." You sigh, content. Sun streams in on a lazy morning, and you're sore in the kind of way that feels good; fucked out and blissful. 

You lean into it, and then he sucks , teeth clashing onto the skin as he gives you a hickey and the juncture of your jaw. You wriggle, and he pins you down with one big hand holding down your arm, nipping and kissing and soothing it with a flash of tongue. This time he smiles, wrapping around your middle, tugging down your shirt to decorate your chest with hickeys. You play with his hair, wrapping soft curls between your fingers. 

You spend a little too long like that; curved into him, spines moulded to the shape of each other. It feels nicer than either of you would care to admit; the pretense of sex wrapped around you both like a thin veil. Before he leaves, Miguel indulges himself just this once; head on your chest and sinking into those arms wrapped around him. You smell like coffee and sweat and Autumn, somehow. He presses kisses wherever he can reach, for a bit longer. 

Miguel is okay. He's doing just fine. 

_

_

-

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[invisible-lint]

I Know You

AzrielxHyberns daughter!Reader

Summary: Two drabble prompts "I know you." and "You could put a knife to my throat and I wouldn't flinch."

Warnings: light angst? but like soft angst?

Word Count: 1.2k

You sit out on the balcony, lost in thought, letting the cool night breeze dance across your skin. So much had changed in your 500 years. You chew on your lip, reflecting on it as you stare at the city down below. 

You had been half human, born to a human mother, fathered by the King of Hybern. It was during the war that he discovered your existence, hunting you down so he could posess you, as if you were a rare book or an exotic flower.  

You had given what little humanity you had up in a vain attempt to save the Archeron sisters. You had entered the cauldron willingly, hoping that it would be good enough for the mortal queens. It wasn’t. But in becoming full fae, you had felt something shift, felt a power that you hadn’t felt before. You had realized, with dawning horror, that the same power your father held was now awakening in you. 

 You had helped Feyre and the Shadowsinger when they had come to rescue Elain, fleeing with them. Hybern had never been your home. You had expected it to take time for them to trust you, but between going into the cauldron for the sisters and helping rescue Elain, you were surprised to find that the High Lady of the Night Court was quick to trust you, and so the High Lord did as well by extension. 

You had also become fast friends with the High Lady’s sister, Nesta. It was if there was something in each of you that had recognized itself in the other, bonding you together. Your shared love of books had only grown the bond. 

When she made the killing blow, you felt it. Not because of any love you had held for your father, you hated him with every fiber of your being, but because you had felt it as the power that had once been his, became yours. And you could sense his spell book across the ocean, singing out to you. Nesta was the only one you had told.

In turn, she told you about her own power and how she had kept it at bay with drinking and fucking. And so you joined her in the evenings at taverns and pleasure halls, drinking and dancing until you could no longer here the siren’s call of the spell book, stumbling home to your shabby apartment. You would not let the power corrupt you. You would not let it turn you into your father. 

When Nesta had been forced to the House of Wind, you had joined her. Not because you had been ordered, but because you would not be left behind. When you burst into Rhysand’s study, anger rushing through your veins, power churning in your chest, that was the first time you had seen fear in the High Lord’s eyes when he looked at you. He had Azriel bring you to the House of Wind later that same day. 

When she had opened up training to the priestesses, Nesta had asked you to join as well. You had gladly accepted, becoming a Valkyrie along with Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. And now, here you sit, out on the balcony, staring down at the city of Velaris, avoiding sleep, avoiding nightmares. 

You were surprised to find that you don’t miss the city, not really. You miss parts of it, the window seat in your apartment, the small bookstore you had worked in, the cafe you stopped by on your way to work, but not the city as a whole. You were less worried you’d accidentally hurt someone with your power, and that made it easier to keep shoved down. Even the call of the spell book had become easier to ignore when you couldn’t easily leave the house on your own. 

You’re so lost in your own thoughts, that you don’t hear the Shadowsinger’s approach until he’s right next to you, saying your name.

You’re startled, the power you keep such a tight leash on, escaping your grasp, flaring to life in a flash of white light, shoving him away from you. You manage to regain control quickly, backing away until your back hits the railing of the balcony. You look over Azriel, noting that the male had somehow managed to stay on his feet. He looks at you, expression neutral, giving nothing away. You blink rapidly, trying to banish the tears that are burning your eyes. Azriel speaks first.

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” His words make a strange tightness in your chest release, but you don’t feel any better.

“I know it was an accident. You wouldn’t hurt me.” 

“But I could.” Your voice is barely loud enough to be considered a whisper, but he hears you.

“Not on purpose. Not in a way that would matter. You could put a knife to my throat and I wouldn’t flinch.” He’s moving towards you slowly, eyes never leaving your face. 

“That’s because you could disarm me with ease.” 

He shakes his head. “No. It’s because I know you. And I see you.”

You wish you could take a step further back, away from the way his hazel gaze is piercing you, but you are already pressed up against the railing, any further and you’d go toppling over the edge. He stops moving when he’s in front of you, flaring his wings to shield you from the gazes of Nesta and Cassian who were awoken by your outburst of power. 

“How? We’ve barely spoken. How could you possibly know me?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.” His cheeks tinge pink at the admission. “What I mean is I… See the way you put others before yourself. You went into the cauldron to try to save humans you didn’t even know. You helped Feyre and I escape when we rescued Elain. Back during the first war, I had heard about you. The half-fae healer who had given herslef over to the soldiers that had been hunting her down so that everyone else could escape.” He reaches a hand out towards you, letting it drop when you lean away. “What are you so afraid of?”

The tears you had been trying to will away finally break free, rolling down your cheeks.

“I don’t want to be like him. It’s his power.” Realization dawns on his face. He gently pulls you away from the railing, turning so he’s between you and the railing. He cups your chin, wiping a tear away as he forces you to look him in the eyes.

“You could never be like him. You are too good. You are far too good.”  You want to argue, but theres something about the way his hazel eyes blaze with intensity that keeps you from arguing,

“It isn’t his power anymore. It’s yours. And it’s up to you what you do with it. And I, for one, think you will do amazing things with it.”

“Why?” 

Before he can speak, the cauldron does, tying the two of you together in a flare of golden light.

“Because we’re mates.”

“Oh.” You blink, your brain trying to catch up with what has happened, equally torn between wanting to kiss him and wanting to run away.  You’re about to do the former when the High Lord lands on the balcony. You can feel your barely contained power tugging at its leash once again, and so you do the latter, stepping back from Azriel, turning, and running past Nesta and Cassian. Nesta follows you, leaving the three brothers staring after you, wondering what they’re going to do.

A/N: well there are two of the drabble prompts @loving-and-dreaming

Keep sending in prompts and feel free to be as specific or as vague as you'd like!

divider by @tsunami-of-tears

[writingoddess1125]

Can you do a Sanji x reader angst?

Done-

Enjoy DEPRESSION!

Inertia

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Masterlist <<<

'Goodbye-'

He heard it every morning when he woke up from his nightmares- at this piint dreams since he was met with the same dream every night, Rolling himself up right as the sun rose forcing his day to start. Heading down to the kitchen, both his salvation and his personal prison at this point.

" Come on Sanji!-"

You cried, pulling him along to the ship that would take the both of you away. His sister saving both your lives that day in giving you all the chance to run- to free yourself from this hellish place!-

Hidden beneath the rhythmic clatter of utensils and the sizzle of ingredients in the pan, Sanji's heart harbored a constant darkness non could see. His eyes, filled with fire and sparkle, also held a subtle emptiness that went unnoticed by his comrades- A smile on his lips as he served breakfast to them all.

Laughing along with their jokes, flirting with Nami as if only to do so to keep the endless cycle going. Cook, Flirt, Smile, Train- Repeat.

"You gotta learn how to flirt Sanji!" You yelled, Sanji shyly staring at you in question. The two of you in the hall of thr shit you'd jumped to, peeling potstos to avoid the verbal abuse of the adults.

"But why?"

"Cause you gotta get girls silly! Got to make a good impression" You exclaim, rather flamboyant in your remarks which made Sanji mutter shyly about his lack of skill.

"Here just do what I do-" You clear your throat, Before giving a dramatic fluttering of your eyes and reaching forward to touch the youthful adolescents chest flirtatiously making him blush and bat you away like a startled kitten. You laughing at his reaction.

Cleaning up he made his way out to the main deck, practicing kicks and other moves with his peers. Arguing with Zoro- but it just didn't feel the same as the arguments he used to have with you.. missing the way your voice strained and waved with the force.

Before smiling at Luffy and talking with his captain- continuing his hollow laughs and empty smiles. Not long before returning to the kitchens were he prepped.

Sanji rusing as he felt the spray of the sea, the ache in his body as he clammered over the sharp rock he was stuck on. Seeing Zeff, the pirate who had taken over their ship as he rushed to him in a fit of rage "Where are they!?" He yelled at Zeff his eyes still searching for you, the hardened pirate shining the bag of food into the child's arms.

"We are the only survivors!- Now take your half and go!"

Serving dinner, he couldn't find it in himself to eat. His mouth bitter at remembering the moldy bread and salty water.

In the quiet moments when the kitchen lights dimmed, and the crew retired to their bunks, Sanji faced the hollowness that clung to him like a persistent shadow- Like you were still there wrapping your arms around him and whispering his undeserving praises.

Shaking the feeling for a moment, he stepped from the now clean kitchen. The dark night air welcoming him as they always did, the only true thing he could remeber of your scent was the constant smell of the sea on your clothes.

Looking back, Sanji was sure Zeff could hear his anguished cried for you those first few nights. His voice fading into nothing after the third day of sobbing your name and begging for you to return to him.

He stood there, Leaning against the railing in the direction of the where he knew your marker was. The one he had planted all those years ago as the place were you had been dragged away under the sea just north of the Baratie.

Pulling out a cigarette he lit it taking a deep drag as he looked out at the dark sea before him. The one who had taken you from him- Thinking of your final words, in that kitchen area when you shoved him towards Zeff as the crashing waves overtook the ship you were both in.

'Goodbye-'

[brighttears]

Filth II

Joel Miller x f!reader 

No use of y/n, no physical description other than having hair

Summary: You escape a threat and find a motel on your way out. You decide to stay the night, but Joel has one last thing he’d like to do before you fall asleep. 

Word count: 4k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), dom!Joel, but also some soft!Joel, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, pet names (baby, sweetheart, good girl, precious girl, beautiful girl, darling) 

A/n: this smut was honestly so fun to write cause you know mmMMMMMM anyways hope y'all enjoy :3 more to come(heehee)! got some angst comin up i think chapter after next? cause i miss it

series masterlist

—

The dogs bark again, viscous and sharp, and Joel pulls you into the treeline, sliding down to crouch in a ditch. As the sounds grow nearer and Joel peeks his head out above the ditch, looking down the road. When he comes back to you, his demeanor is intense. “Stay down, stay silent, don’t move a muscle.” Voices start coming along with the dogs, and your breathing becomes shakier, heart hammering in your chest. “It’s a scavenging crew,” He tells you quietly, “probably five or six of them. They’re looking for people.” At his words, your heart lurches, a shiver of fear running through you. “We have to wait for them to pass. Okay?” You nod, trying to calm your breaths, keep yourself quiet and steady. Even without the threat of people, you know those dogs could tear you apart, and you bet they’re trained just for that.

You wait, hiding and listening as the sounds come closer. Your eyes are locked on Joel, staring at him as you try to keep yourself as relaxed as possible, settle into some sort of stillness, but your blood rushes in your ears. When Joel looks down at you, he reaches up to brush his hand over your chek, nodding reassuringly. 

After what feels like an hour, the sounds fade, and Joel peeks his head back out to look around. You stay crouched, looking at him for direction, a deep breath releasing some of the tension that has your body pulled taut. Without looking at you, he says, his voice still low, “We’re gonna move fast and quiet. If you hear them, if they see us, you haul ass. Got it?” You nod, and as soon as you do, Joel pulls you into the woods, gripping your hand tight as you weave quickly through the trees. He moves with intense focus and you follow behind trying not to trip, legs still indisposed. 

“Where are we going?” You ask quietly. 

Joel eyes dart around, keeping a fast pace. “Just keep up.”

Eventually, you reach the other side of the woods, coming to another road. Across it, you see a dilapidated, faded pink, two story motel. 

“Alright,” Joel says, stopping at the treeline. “We’ll see if we can stop here for the night. Stay quiet.” Still keeping hold of your hand, he starts for the motel, scanning your surroundings as you hurry towards the cover. 

When you reach the building, Joel lets go of your hand, looking back at you as he takes his gun out, signaling for you to do the same. You sneak around the perimeter, checking it out. Most of the windows of the rooms are broken, some doors boarded up, some open, some not even on their hinges, but no sound, no sign of anything, and relief starts to lighten your shoulders. 

As you walk up the stairs crossed over the front of the motel, he says, “If it’s all clear, we’ll stay up here on the second floor. Gives us the high ground, more time to react if anything comes.” You nod, looking over the railing as you climb. It’s mostly clear, just the road, trees, and a dusty, empty parking lot. No movement. No sound. You’re safe. For now. Hopefully. 

The second floor is in slightly better condition than the first, most windows still intact, doors still on their hinges. You slide against the wall as Joel checks through each opening into the rooms. At the very end is the single room with both door and window fully intact, and he pauses to look at you before he opens the door.

The room is small but in good enough shape, with a bed, a small desk, and a dresser. There are a couple things strewn about the room—an empty, dusty suitcase open in the corner, some pieces of jewelry scattered across the desk. Someone left here in a rush, likely around that time in 2003. You hope they happened to have left some clothes behind, too. Joel goes around the corner in the back of the room to check the bathroom while you check the closet next to it, finding nothing. 

“Alright,” he nods as he comes back into the main room, locking the door and drawing the wispy curtains. Dropping his pack on the floor by the door, he sighs as he sits down on the edge of the bed. You set your bag down next to the dresser and start opening the drawers. The top one is empty, but the bottom holds a few folded pieces of clothes. A smile spreads across your face as you take out the shirt resting on top. As you hold it out in front of you, you see that a woman stayed in this room, her size, by good fortune, only a little smaller than yours. You turn to Joel, holding the baby blue t-shirt over your body to show him. He smiles back, slightly amused. Still smiling, you look down at it in your hands. 

“...Can I make a request?” You hear him. 

Looking back up, “Hm?”

“...Can I put them on you?”

His words force a deep breath out of you and you pause, face going hot. Such an intimate act, and not something you had expected from him. You’ve learned that his demeanor can shift quickly, and there’s a lot more hidden under his surface. Things you’re dying to see. After a moment, you nod, and he stands, walking over to you slowly to take the shirt from your hands. Your eyes are locked on his as you start on the buttons of your—his—jacket. As you reveal more of yourself under it, Joel sighs deeply, eyes following your fingers. 

“Raise your arms for me.” He tells you, eyes on your bare body as you slip the jacket off and let it fall to the floor. You do, completely exposed and open as you do as you’re told. He slips the shirt over you, gently pressing his hands over your arms to lower them, then slides the fabric down until it rests at your waist, a thin slip of skin exposed before your jeans. Joel’s hands come to rest on your waist, and he sighs again, then whispers, “Beautiful.” He plants a light kiss on your lips and your heart throbs, looking into his eyes as he steps away. 

“Are there… are there underwear in here, too?” You ask, sounding much more shy than you intended. 

A small smile spreads over his lips and he bends down to dig through the drawers. “Sure are.” He smiles at you, pulling out a pair of lacy black panties, holding them out to display for you. You manage a small smile back, face on fire. 

“Hold these for me.” He says quietly, handing you the underwear, then comes back close, very close, holding your gaze as his fingers go down to undo your jeans. As he slides his hands over your hips, hooking his thumbs over your jeans to pull them down, you let out a deep breath. Slowly, he lowers, kneeling under you to slip your jeans off, eyes on yours all the while, and your breathing quickens as you look down at him. 

Joel’s hands slide up your legs, from your ankles, up your calves, then to rest over the sides of your thighs. “My beautiful girl,” he says quietly, and you can't help but let out a shuddering breath. He presses a kiss over your stomach, just below your belly button, the sensitive touch blossoming all through your body. He begins to plant kisses lower, lower, lower, and he says again, “My beautiful girl,” speaking slowly, almost in a whisper. You bunch the panties in your fist, looking down at him on his knees before you, his lips on your skin. Holding your gaze, he kisses the inside of your right thigh lightly. “My sweetheart.” He plants another kiss in the center of your hips, once again moving lower, lower, until he stops just above where you want him the most. “My precious girl.” Your breath catches in your throat. He grasps your thighs, as if readying himself before he noses his way in between your legs, and you lean your head back, letting your eyes close and the panties fall from your hand as you comb your hands through his hair. He teases a wide lick over your pussy, and you moan out quietly, running your hands through his hair, your nails over his scalp. He moves to kiss the inside of your thigh lightly again, and you feel his hot breath over your skin as he whispers, “Please…” Suddenly, his mouth closes over the entirety of your pussy, his tongue licking flatly up your slit, closing it around to suck over your clit, and you gasp, gripping his hair. “Please, baby…”

“Wh–what?” You breathe out. 

“Stay still, sweetheart. Don’t move. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe out again, breaths too shallow to allow anything more. Anything, anything you want, you think to yourself, I’ll do. 

“Put your hands at your sides, baby.” You do, then bunch them into fists, your hips starting to quiver, needy for his touch. “Oh, baby,” he whispers as his hands slide up and down your thighs before you feel the warmth of mouth over you again. You moan out at the ceiling, willing yourself to stay still and not press yourself into his mouth. He licks wide and flat, flicking his tongue up over your clit, and you moan. His stubble scratches the insides of your thighs as he starts on your clit, sucking and licking, and moans come out with each deep breath that slips out of your body. Reflexively, your hips push into him, and he pulls away, making you whine at the loss of contact. He shifts his hands from your thighs up to your hips, gripping, holding you in place. “Don’t move,” he whispers, and you turn your head back down, melting at the sight below you. He looks up at you with gentle pleading in his eyes, his brow drawn up, parted lips wet with your juices. You nod, and he leans his mouth back into you, keeping his eyes on yours. He lets his mouth rest over the entity of your pussy, working his tongue up.

“Fuck,” you whisper, closing your eyes and leaning your head back again, and you feel your body cursedly shift towards him again, making him pull away. 

“Be still, baby, please,” he whispers, and you look back down at him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you breath out, voice barely audible.

“Shh… ‘t’s okay,” he whispers back before putting his mouth back over you, working at your clit again. You moan loudly, digging your nails into your palms as you will yourself to be still. He pulls his mouth back again, pressing light kisses all over your inner thighs. “Please…” he whispers, teasing his lips all around the place that yearns for him most. “Shh… just relax…” You bite your lip, nodding with your eyes closed. Joel kisses over your clit, pulling away in a torturous pattern. “Please, please be still…”

“Ahuh,” you breathe out, looking back down at him. You moan again just at the sight, those puppy dog eyes on you as he finally places his tongue back over your pussy, licking from bottom to top repeatedly. “Oh,” you moan out, your thighs starting to quiver as you strain to keep them locked in place. His eyes close again, kitten licking your clit before he closes his mouth all the way around again. You continue to quiver and moan, standing as still as you possibly can with his fingers digging into your hips. As he quickens his pace, tongue dancing along your slit and teasing your clit, you have to focus hard to keep still. Noticing your strain, Joel keeps his mouth where it is but slides a hand to the back of your thigh to carefully hook it over his shoulder. He moves that hand to then reach around to splay over your lower back, holding you more securely with his thumb on your hip, fingers still digging into the other side, and you lean your head back with your mouth open wide as he continues. He hums as he eats you out and you squeak out a moan at the gratifying vibration that shakes a quiver through you, feeling yourself roll up towards your climax, but Joel moves his mouth away again, and you whine. “Shh… I need you to stay so still, sweetheart,” he whispers, his breath hot on your soaking wet pussy, and you feel wetness start to roll down the inside of your thigh, making you shiver. He licks flat again and you whimper again, desperate for more, needing it as you feel yourself start rolling up the hill again, but he whispers again, “Shh… shh.. Just be patient…” You whine more, fiddling with your fingers in your fists. He kisses your slit, his nose on your clit, and you bite your lip, straining with all your might to stay still. 

“P–hh–please, Joel,” you whimper, but he shushes you again. 

“Patient, darlin’, be patient.” You hum and nod, knowing you’re at his mercy, that he knows it, and that he loves it, so you bite your lip again, stilling, but you have to tense yourself when his lips start to focus on your clit. Involuntarily, your entire torso starts to shake as he sucks, the tip of his tongue rolling back and forth over the very tip, and you cry out again, “Please,” instantly regretting it when he pulls away. “Shh,” he urges you with a gentle pat on your thigh, “Just be patient, darlin’, be quiet and patient. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes, yes, I can,” you shudder out.

“Good girl.” He goes right back at your clit, and you clench your fists and cry out, eyes rolling back in your head as pleasure jolts through you and your body rocks forward. 

“Darlin’,” Joel speaks, quiet but stern as he comes away, and you look down at him to tell him, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t stay still when you do that, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,”

“No, no, darlin,” he whispers, shaking his head slowly, “‘T’s alright. T’s okay. You’re alright. Just, please, stay still for me, okay?” He tells you, though it’s not very reassuring, knowing that he’s going to do what he wants to you, and it’s up to you to do as he says. You nod. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, slowly taking his mouth back under to open wide and close back around you, coming into a sucking kiss away. He repeats the motion, then simply kisses your entrance, teasing, watching your eyes. “Such a good girl,” he speaks as he kisses your clit, “stayin’ so still like this for me.” Finally, his mouth comes back, licking and sucking and kissing, slurping at this point, and you start moaning louder, digging your nails into palms so hard it hurts. He hums delightfully again before pulling away yet again, and at this point you want to scream, repeatedly coming closer and closer right before he stops again. 

“Shh, baby, be quiet, be patient.” He urges you in a whisper before starting to swirl his tongue around your clit, then slips it down to tease your entrance, and you clamp your hand around your mouth to muffle your sounds. “Such a good girl,” he licks, “you’re so beautiful, you know that? I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.” His hand runs over your thigh over his shoulder before shifting it to hold you securely so that he can lick into you again. He suctions the entirety of his mouth around your pussy, teasing your entrance again, and a shake runs through your torso, but you tense it, willing yourself to be still. He licks up, closing his lips around your clit only to pull back once again, and you clench your teeth, mind reeling. You turn your face back down to look at him, and he looks so sweet, so innocent, as if he’s not torturing you right now, though his mouth, nose, and chin are wet with his spit and your cum.

“Such a good girl for me. ‘T’s okay, I’ll give you what you need. Don’t worry, darlin’.” You nod vigorously, breathless with your brow furrowed, still with your hand over your mouth, and you almost catch a little smile from him before he buries it between your legs, closing his eyes as he slides his tongue up and down. When he starts to add pressure you squeeze your eyes shut, crying out breathy moans as your core quakes. Adding more pressure, he speeds up, tongue slipping top to bottom, the tip of his tongue curling up the underside of your clit and letting the bottom come back down over it before he drags it back down lower. He adjusts his grip on your thighs, holding you in place, and shakes his head back and forth slightly and slowly as he buries it deeper. He picks up the pace further, devouring with abandon while you squeak and cry moans into your hand, feeling yourself coming closer to a climax. He hums, and your hips shudder, desperate for more, so close, so close, and he must be able to tell, because he grips you harder, leaving more bruises as he pulls your hips into his face. Keeping that fast pace, he hums low and long, and your eyes start to roll back in your head as the pleasure builds, the feeling flowering over your hips, into your stomach, shooting up in your head and it falls back, and you can’t to stop your body from leaning into his face, your body shuddering around it. He continues to moan and lick and your free hand grips his hair thoughtlessly. As your climax peaks and tumbles, Joel slows, mouth moving leisurely but keeping his mouth around you, and your heel digs into his back as you shake. 

After a moment more, pulls back slowly, releasing his mouth. You feel his hot breath over your skin and hear low, grumbling purring. Finally, you take your hand off of your mouth, letting both hands brush and comb through his hair as your shuddering subsides. Slowly, he leans back in kissing your clit once or twice. “Jesus,” you breathe out as he pulls out another convulsion. As you catch your breath, you continue to pet his hair. Joel leans his head against your thigh, sliding his hand around the leg still hooked over his shoulder, gentle touch under his hands. You let your hands rest on his head for a moment, then comb your hands back to gently pull his head away from your leg, cupping his cheek to pull his face up. His eyes are sleepily half lidded, mouth and nose wet. 

A smile rolls over your lips. “Baby…” you say; his expression does something to you, like a warm wave of thick water washing over you, feeding into some sort of bouquet blossoming from your heart. 

“Mmmmm,” Joel lets out a contented sigh and closes his eyes, resting his chin on your thigh. Watching his face, you brush your hands through his hair, and he continues to purr, breathe slowing, then turns his head to lay his cheek back against your skin. 

“Come on, baby,” you say quietly, turning his face back to yours, cupping it to pull slightly and urge him to his feet. He makes a little grumbling noise, but doesn’t resist, letting you raise him up. Your leg slips off of him as he grumbles and groans to his feet, as if he can’t stand to pull himself off of you. Joel’s hands lay lax at his sides as he stands with his head in your hands, and for a moment all you do is stare at him. Big bad Joel, melting in your hands. Slowly, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. You wrap your arms back around his shoulders, swaying him gently. He’s so sweet now, so soft. 

You’ve seen him serious, violent like he has to be in the face of danger, you’ve seen him let go completely, submissive to you in pleasure, and you’ve seen him deeply hungry, a desperate animal, forceful in need. You’ve had him begging, thirsty and needy, and now, soft like a kitten. 

“Mmmmm…” he nuzzles into you, rubbing his cheeks and face against your shoulder and neck. He clasps his hands around your back, letting his weight lean into you. Breathing deep and even, he lets out another contented sigh, and you start to think he might be falling asleep right here. 

“Come on, little baby boy,” you say with a smile, nearly chuckling, and start to step back, pulling him towards the bed. 

“Mmmm…” he complains, but his body follows as you move. You let go of him to sit down, then shift back and reach your hands out, beckoning him to lay down with you. Joel lets out the tiniest of sleepy murmurs as he crawls onto the bed, falling to his side next to you, his eyes barely open. He starts to curl into you, laying his arm around your waist to pull you closer, then lays his head down to nuzzle into your chest. You slide your arm between his neck and the bed, pulling him closer with your other around his back. He shifts his arm further around you, pulling you closer, and pushes his leg in between yours, wrapping it around the one below to pull you ever closer. Chuckling, you swing your leg over his side, and he sighs deeply. Smiling, you tip your face into his hair and reach back to brush your hand over his cheek. He sighs again, his body relaxing into the bed. Then he reaches for your face, leaning his head back to gaze into your eyes. His are sleepy, but you see something in them, unreadable but heavy. His lips move, as if he wants to speak, but he stays quiet. You brush your thumb over his cheek, his skin you finally know, every detail clear, all the spots, wrinkles and scars. Pretty eyelashes over pretty brown eyes. The slight pout of his lips, the heart shaped patch in his salt and pepper beard. 

Your chest is full and warm. You love him. Deeply. Completely. So much it fills you, your skin tingling with it, and the words rumble in your chest, boiling up, and they come out almost without permission, in a whisper, “I love you.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Joel’s eyes close, his shoulder relaxing further, and now his body is completely limp, a faint whimper falling from his lips. They move again, ever so slightly, words faltering, and his brow furrows up for a moment before he pushes his head back into your chest, pulling his arm tight around you. 

Whether he loves you or not, you love him, and you just need him to know that. Every part of you needs him to know. And not just because he just gave you the most mind blowing orgasm of your life in the span of a day, because they’ve been so much more than that. Pure passion, pure love, desperate need, for you. And you for him. And you do need him. Forever, you need him. 

Joel’s breathing becomes deeper, and he shifts his arm back from around your waist, reaching for your hand on his cheek to intertwine with his and pull against your chest. He's so delicate now, every part of his mind, body, and soul relaxed, and he's almost like a child, afraid to leave you, lonely in the night, needing the warmth of your body against him. 

You pull yourself closer, surrounding him, wanting to make him feel safe, like he can be like this, show him that he’s allowed to be like this with you. You feel him melt against you, and your body relaxes around him. 

This is all you could ever ask for. The peaceful contentedness of the moment lays over you with the heaviness of sleep, and you hold each other close as you drift off. 

[4pp3nd1xsblog]

in protest of romance

is it beautiful or can you simply not afford a doctor? either is fine but one answer will make me less mad at you

I learned about limerence today. You can't get mad at me for not knowing what limerence is because I am a freshman in college. I have so many thoughts on it but mostly I'm mad. I'm mad that everything I'm seeing from other people who do this (which I'm not totally convinced isn't everyone) is making it out to be so romantic. "I love too much and I love to love" We'd all like to think that of ourselves.

A few weeks ago, I was expressing to my good friend my (fairly mild) distaste of Laufey's music. I don't have a problem with her as an artist, but I don't really like her voice and her lyrics don't speak to me. Whatever. (Sidenote: One time I played the song Downtown Train by Tom Waits for this same friend and she turned to me and went "[name]. What is this." So we're even. Not that it matters.) Anyway, my friend jokingly made a jab at me, saying that I should just "learn to romanticize life like the rest of us." My immediate response, and what I maintain is true, was that I romanticize plenty, I just romanticize differently. I don't listen to Laufey to romanticize, I usually prefer something a little more upbeat and easy to dance to. That's besides the point, the point is not how I romanticize, the point is that I don't understand why I felt the need to defend myself in regards to how much I romanticize my life.

I get why romanticizing life is so fun and appealing. I mean, clearly, I do it, by my own furious admission. The world is awful and on top of it, you're experiencing intrapersonal and interpersonal turmoil. You feel angst about it. So romanticizing life and your own feelings can make things a bit more bearable. I completely understand. However. To what end. To what end!

Why does everything have to be beautiful?

Which kind of brings me back to limerence. I wish I found comfort in knowing that there is not only a word, but a whole community, for the horrible, debilitating feeling of being obsessed with someone. I don't like that there are people who I would be willing go to probably creepy length for, to simply hang out with. I don't like that this person is consuming my every waking moment for months on end. I feel gross and perverse. It feels pretty fucking ugly. The last thing I want to do is make this feeling beautiful. I don't want to make it beautiful, I want to make it go away!

So I'll ask again: Why does everything Have to be beautiful? Why Should I keep romanticizing everything? Is this what we're doing forever? Are we going to sigh and make doe eyes and quote Mitski lyrics to each other forever? I'm not going to be able to do anything with all this love in my heart if I can feel my brain deteriorating from the inside out and the only thing my little bubble is doing to help me is reminding me how my love is mine all mine.

I'm not talking about art btw. I'm talking about while going about your fucking day. And don't come at me with how there's beauty in everything and you just have to be willing to see it or some shit. Sure! Fine! If that makes you happy! And I so genuinely hope it does, because if it doesn't then this isn't serving anybody.

This went off the rails. I don't know what I'm talking about anymore.

TLDR; we need to stop romanticizing everything . it's going to give us all cancer or smth

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Buried underneath

requested: Could you write just pure angst for azriel x reader? Maybe like they can’t find eachother after a battle or something Thank you x

warning: angst, near death experience, nothing major

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You were still in Rhysand's main tent only hours before the battle was about to break. You had been in more than one fight before. Been responsible for the soldiers. Helped to break rebelling legions. But never a war before. Never on a real battlefield. You were the only female who had risen above all of the others who were trained in the camps. Maybe it was the anger that had fueled you. Anger from losing your wings and being left with atrocious scars on your back. You had places be, points to prove. And you did just that. Catching both Cassian's and Azriel's attention within weeks.

You didn't challenge Azriel. That man was unreadable. To get emotions out of him was like looking at a river and waiting for it to start running in the opposite direction. But Cassian. Cassian was someone you knew you could rile up. While others bit their tongues while talking to the general, you bit at every given moment. You were done with that shithole of a camp. You wanted out, and if joining his legion was that ticket, you were going to get it.

And you did. Group training turned into private ones, and after a couple of months, you were packing a bag to go to Velaris. It was bitter-sweet. It felt like a lot, but at the same time, it meant nothing. You knew that no other male besides Cassian looked at you seriously. No other soldier would look your way. Well, they looked and laughed - never showing respect. You needed to prove yourself, and you did just that. Blood rite. Blood rite was what Cassian then trained you for. Blood rite is where you earned your spot.

But it wasn't just Cassian you'd be thanking for the rest of your life. Azriel was there too. It was strange at first. Talking to him felt like you weren't sure if he was there to mock you or if he was genuinely trying. The helpful posture and technique corrections followed suit. Then came the training together. Then, in the evenings, you have drinks together. Without even realizing it, you two had grown so attached. So when you found yourself on the balcony of the House of Wind, gazing at the stars with Azriel leaning against the railing beside you, you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat. Just a little, and right before you leaned down and crashed your lips into his.

The rest was now history, but those two years by the spymaster's side had been nothing but blissful. Especially since the bond had snapped into place. Nothing compared to seeing him happy. In moments when Azriel was smiling, you didn't care about anything else. You didn't need to prove yourself to someone to show how worthy you were. No, none of those things mattered because if your partner was happy, that was all you needed.

Yet it was unfortunate that your happy bubble had to be smashed by the war. Especially since you were planning a wedding and renovating Azriel's newfound house, which you had both fallen in love with. But duty called, and well, you wouldn't be anywhere else if it meant that this would keep your family safe. "Y/N and Cassian, you're crucial here," Rhysand said, motioning to the mapped-out field. You had gone over this so many times already, "You watch over one another." As much as you knew that Rhys was nervous about sending you into war, it was you who had asked him to separate you from Azriel. If you were to fight together at the same spot, Azriel would be too distracted. You couldn't risk his life. But Rhys understood what your separation meant: if something bad happened and Azriel wasn't there to stop it...The high lord was hoping that Mother was watching over them all. That all of you were to come to camps tonight, at least alive.

"Don't worry, we'll kick some ass," Cass nudged your shoulder slightly, and you quickly bumped your hips his way, causing him to laugh. "Be sensible. Back away if you feel you can't stand your ground," you knew those words were mostly implied for you. But you also knew your strengths and were capable of a lot. "And no improvisation, please. I'm delivering that as an order," Rhys said, knowing that in the heat of the moment, you and Cassian could pull stunts that weren't worth it, and the last thing the high lord wanted to see was any of you being brought here with your insides hanging out.

Azriel tugged at your hand, making you follow him out of the tent. You and Cassian will leave soon. You still needed to look over the troops, give out the last orders, and get in the zone without any side distractions. But Azriel wanted you all to himself, even if only for a couple of minutes. "Is it bad that I'm thinking about our wedding cake?", Azriel asked before wrapping his arms around your middle. You let out a laugh, shaking your head slightly, saying, "Think about table arrangements instead; that's what we are stuck on." Azriel frowned instantly. You had been going back and forth on the theme of your wedding. Since it was small and intimate, you wanted the ones who were invited to have fun, so you decided to pick a theme. Make everyone dress up. Just now that came to bite you in the ass.

"Let's pick a cake, and then we'll move on," Azriel knew it was all a ruse to hide what he actually wanted to say. Afraid that if he actually voiced it would become true. You knew that as well; you could feel it. "I will be," "Don't say anything. I can't," Azriel said as his head fell onto your shoulder. He had been worried ever since the preparation started, but for the last couple of days, he barely slept. He just couldn't help it. It's like every time he looked at you, he feared it was his last time seeing you. Observing the rise and fall of your chest. What if... but he never fully entertained the possibility of you not returning. You had to, you were one of the best. Heck, he had so much cocky male pride inside him as he watched you ordering soldiers around. His woman. His mate. Soon-to-be, wife. 

"Well, then... Don't forget that you also have a pile of laundry to go through back at home", you tapped your lover's shoulder gently, earning a laugh to slip past his lips and your shoulders instantly relaxed. Azriel brought you closer to him one last time, leaving multiple kisses alongside the crown of your hand before moving to kiss your lips a couple of times. Azriel turned to smile at you, your fingers brushing along his cheek.

You and Cassian were in a position to wait for an order from Rhys to strike. Swords in both of your hands as you gazed at the horizon. "Please, stay in my sight. I would love to leave this battlefield with my balls still being a part of my body." You let out a snicker. It must have been Azriel who had most definitely dragged his brother to the side and given his own orders to him. "That would be a such shame. Nesta would have nothing to juggle around," you muttered, trying to hide a smirk, making Cassian gasp. You leaned to his side, and Cassian instantly wrapped his hand around you. "We'll be alright, right?", you looked up at the general, finally allowing yourself a moment of weakness, "Yes, we'll be just fine, shorty." A couple more minutes. A couple more breaths. Before all senses would have to be turned off. And all hell would break free. 

It all went well at the start. As odd as it may seem, it was even fun to get a chance to see just how much you were capable of. You allowed yourself only a couple of looks up at the sky, checking on Cassian until he joined you on the ground. It almost felt like a dance. Like all you had done for years was learn and practice steps. Graciously twisting and turning, as you both cut through the field like it was nothing.

Then it felt like your sixth sense was activated. The main thing you both needed to do here was to cut through the cover-up soldiers and get to the commander's main man. Rhys needed them alive. They would provide the much-needed information. Yet you had this wash of intuition that something was not right. That's when you turned your head to the side and saw one of them pulling something out from under the armor. A chill went down your back. With one last slice across the neck of your opponent, you caught Cassian by his leathers, pulling him closer.

"Take to the skies and bring our man with you," you said, and Cassian gave you a puzzled look before continuing to fight. "Cassian, now!", you barked, and the general instantly signaled to his soldiers as the wall of Illyrian wings took to the skies. And within a heartbeat, the field was covered in thick fumes of whatever the commander's man had dropped all around the field. The smoke was so thick that your eyes were full of tears. You couldn't see anything. Quickly covering your nose with your hand, you tried to stay up. You kept on tuning, still gripping your weapon. You took one man out before black dots started to cloud your vision, and everything went dark.

Cassian's heart nearly ripped through his throat as he watched it all unfold. He had no idea what substance that was, yet the thick fumes weren't a sign of something harmless. The general cursed you in all the languages he could before he ordered the males to use their wings to try and clear the field of the poison's fumes. Cassian almost fell from the sky when he noticed a sign on the ground. Not a single person was standing. There were piles of lifeless bodies all over and no sign of you. He darted down quickly, shouting your name over and over. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep the tears from forming at the corners of his eyes. Quickly ordering some of the males to scan the field for you before he took off to find Azriel. Running over all the ways he was going to tell him what had happened. Praying for the Mother to give him strength.

Azriel was back at the camp, washing up. He and Rhys had only come back a moment ago, yet a sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach had been bubbling for some time. You had agreed to open up the bond as soon as the fight was over. And he did just that but was met with a cold wall himself. The spymaster tried not to overthink it. Yet the more time passed, even if your position was further away than theirs, it seemed like it had been forever. With a towel still in his hands, the spymaster slipped out of the tent. Cassian came into sight instantly, and Azriel's heart skipped a beat. Turning to the side, hoping to see you appear from behind the general or hear your laugh. "Azriel...", it only took his name for the ground to slip from beneath his feet. The muscles in his body tensed, and his movements came to a halt.

"I... she," Cassian began, as Rhys rushed out of his tent. Azriel grabbed Cass firmly. Eyes blazing with unreadable darkness, "What. Happened". Yet the general seemed to only gulp air like a fish that was dragged out of the water. Azriel shook the male harder, his eyes growing darker within seconds. "Something was used... fumes. She told us to go... to fly." Cass choked out, and Azriel gritted his teeth even further, "And so you left her, left her there alone", "Azriel...". It was Rhys, with a warning tone. But none of them understood. None of them could understand since their mates were eating safely and gaining back their strength. The shadows swirled around him in a frenzy. Screaming, panicking, and shouting. The shadow singer didn't wait for Rhys to continue to speak. He couldn't nor did he care as he winnowed himself into the battlefield.

It felt like a punch to the gut once the shadows parted, and Azriel's gaze fell to the ground. Bodies. Bodies everywhere. Some were in piles, some awkwardly scrunched up in between. The ground was covered in bodies. Bulky soldiers' bodies How was he going to find you? Especially when the place reeked of whatever the males had used to take everyone out. Yet the spymaster still unleashed his shadows across the field. They knew you, they felt you for so long they will not let him down, Azrel kept on telling himself. 

The spymaster moved to the pile of bodies that was closest to him. With a sharp breath, he pulled them one by one to the side. Fearing that at any minute he might catch a glimpse of your skin, hair, or hand. Anything. But you were not there. And Azriel was not sure if he should feel relieved or mortified. If they were to lift bodies one by one like this, it would take them weeks. Azriel fell to his knees, fists hitting the ground as he screamed. If he could rip the thread from his chest, he would do it so he could drag himself to you by pulling at it. "We will look everywhere. We won't give up until we find her," said Rhys, who now stood right by his spymaster, himself assessing the situation. Cassian didn't even look Azriel's way as he walked past them. He was already consumed by guilt. No longer hiding his tears as he pushed bodies around the field. Equally frustrated. Maybe not a mate, but a sister. Someone he had grown to love so deeply was missing, maybe even dead, and all because of his fault.

They've been there for hours. Some of the soldiers who still had strength in them also joined in. Azriel's shadows were nothing but weeping messes. Only clouding the spymaster's head more and more. There were moments where Azriel wanted to just give up on this and skin Cassian instead. Beat him to a pulp. Just... anything. Stopping in his tracks, Azriel lifted his scared palms to his face. He was losing hope. Even if he was puking from exhaustion, he knew he'd stay here until he saw you.

Then the shout from the other side of the field erupted. A couple of soldiers rushed towards it. Azriel's head snapped up, his shadows darting forward. It was rather far away from where the spymaster stood, but he saw your hand. Saw how the males carefully lifted you out of the sea of bodies that you were under. Azriel didn't even remember if he ran or if he winnowed. Flown? He had no clue how he made his way to you. And when he was steps away from you, he couldn't move any closer. His body froze. Some soldier poured water on your face. But you seemed lifeless. Limp and laying there, with no indication that something as insignificant as water would bring you back.

One more splash. A light shook. Chest compressions. As you gasped for air, your head snapped forward. The soldier nearly fell to the ground, both from the fear of losing his hands if something somehow went even worse than it already was and from the joy that his commander was alive. Your body fell back to the ground. Through heavy eyelids, your eyes tried to take in your surroundings. When they reached Azriel, something like relief washed through you. Your trembling fingers reached for him, but he didn't step closer. didn't fall to his knees next to you.

"Are you insane? Are you INSANE?!", Azriel spat in your face, breathing heavily. The other males moved to the side, and Rhys soon ordered them off. Thanks for the work they had done; that would come later. "You're so fucking stupid!", he yells, kneeling on one knee by your side, but his eyes were filled with rage. You would probably be crying if you weren't still out of it. Crying because he had never shouted at you like this. "Why don't you ever listen? What is it with you and that god complex of yours?" Your head was pounding, and the shouting only added to it. Closing your eyes, you turn your head to the side to try and escape the sound of Azriel's voice.

"That's enough," Rhys barked, stepping between you and your love. As you fell to the ground, Cassian leaped to your side and wrapped his arms around you, saying, "I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry. I should've stayed down," the general murmured. At this point, Azriel was practically blue from anger. With one last look at you and a deadly roar, he jolted to the skies. No matter how or what Rhys shouted at him, the male was off and gone. The emptiness washed over you. Your mate. Your mate just left you like this. You tried to pull on the string that bound you both, but nothing happened.

"Come here, let me help you up," Cassian said, hooking his hands under your legs and bringing you into his arms. Your eyes fell heavy, and against the warm chest of the general, the need to close them got delicately sweet. "Keep your eyes open, dearest," Rhys rubbed his palm over your arm, trying to stimulate you to stay alert, "Stay awake for a bit longer." And you tried. Gods knew you tried. Tried to look into your high Lord's purple eyes. But soon they blended with the color of the sky, and the blurry mix of colors eventually faded into nothing. The sea of healers that were running in and out of the tent that Cassian brought you to was so alarming that it feels like the whole camp had stopped breathing. Cass refused to leave. Even if no one was allowed in, he sat on the wooden boxes outside. Nesta slowly brushed her fingers through the general's hair as she pressed his head to her chest. Shushing his murmurs about needing to go apologies gently.

Rhys had been trying to find Azriel. And gods only knew where the male was and what stupidity he was partaking in. The high lord was sure that you'd pull through; he had to be. Not because you were one of his best. Fuck titles at moments like this. You were his sister-in-law. A woman who bought him fluffy underwear for the winter solstice. So he would stay here for now. In case you might need him for anything, to take your pain away. For now, it's you. You need to be taken care of.

It most definitely seemed like the shadow singer went through all the grieving stages while he sat under a big tree. It was anger at first that resulted in him as nearly ripping the whole tree out. Then came the laughing that turned into tears. The anxiety over the fact that he left you. The realization that you were alive. His worst nightmare didn't come true. Yet it almost felt like his body and brain still didn't believe it.

"She could have died," Azriel murmured. He didn't need to turn around; he could feel Rhys's presence there. "Could, but she didn't and-", "Don't try to defend her!", Azriel spat, turning to face his high lord. Rhys's face was tired, but mostly it was the disappointment that lingered. "I'm not, but she's alive, and you walked out on her like that," Rhys continued. "That's your mate you left on the battlefield."

Azriel crossed the distance between them. Their brows almost touched as he fired daggers at the man in front of him, who didn't even move an inch. "Don't you fucking lecture me, Rhys", the high lord let out a sigh. "You're acting like a child, brother. Move past your bullshit and go to her before you lose her for good", "You don't get it", the spymaster's shoulders shook as he ran through the thought of losing you once again. "Except I do. The fear of losing a mate can cripple you", "She will hate me now. I walked away," the panic ripped through the spymaster, but Rhys was quick to catch him by his shoulder, making the male turn to him once again. "The love you two have for one another will help you work through this. She needs you even if she'll deny it at first". 

Azriel lingered by your tent for some time. Walking in circles as he rubbed his hands together. He also knew you could feel him because his side of the bond was open, and he had forgotten about that. With a sudden burst of confidence, he rushed inside the tent. You were sitting on the bed, arms crossed, looking away from him. The silence felt worse than a knife cutting the skin, and Azriel wanted to talk, but nothing came out of his mouth. He just couldn't.

"I will not talk to you," you muttered. Your voice was still raspy, and Azriel took all the tiny cuts that covered your body. His shadows told him about all the injuries you'd required. "Okay," the shadow singer muttered like a kid who had just been scolded. Moving to sit on the chair at the end of the tent. "What are you doing?", you grumbled, turning your face slightly toward Azriel. Your tired eyes pierced his soul. "I'll wait till you want to talk," "You don't get to come here and give me this attitude," you spat, jaw tight as you glare your mate's way. And it's difficult; it's extremely difficult because all you want to do is hold him. You need to feel him because you still keep having flashbacks of everything that happened. You still feel the weight of the bodies crushing you.

"You know what I wished for while lying there?", you say, wiping away the tear that you didn't even notice running down your face. "That you would never find me because I didn't want you to see my corpse", "Don't say that", Azriel's throat tightened as he barely found the strength to rasp out the words. He would have turned the whole world upside down if he had to, but he would have found you. And if you were dead, he would have sat with your body in his arms for hours, days, even weeks. No one would get to touch you.

"I know it's your worst nightmare," you said again as the wave of panic from his side of the bond crashed into you. Azriel ran his hands through his hair. His elbows rested on his knees as he let his face fall into his hands before he spoke up again: "You are the best thing that happened to me. I didn't want to live before I met you." Your gaze softens, and you just watched him for a moment. He was broken when you found him, but aren't we all broken in some ways? He saw himself as weak, but you thought that he was the strongest person out there. You loved all of him with no expectations. 

"Do you know what would happen if you died?", Azriel whispered, and your eyes finally met his. Bloodshot, glossy eyes of his. "I would die myself," he mumbled under his breath. "Because of this," Azriel said, taking a step closer to the bed and gently moving your hand to rest on his chest, not for a second averting his gaze."This beats only for you", you felt your lover's heart drumming within his chest, "Azriel, my love", you muttered softly. 

"I can't do life without you, please." The sob shook Azriel's shoulders, and your own eyes filled with tears. You extended your arms to him, inviting him even closer. He didn't hesitate. His head fell on your chest as he clung to you. Breathing in your scent. Letting his fingers run across the softness of your skin. He was shaking as he thanked all the gods he knew for letting you live. For not taking you away from him. "I'm here, my love bug. I'm in your arms," you whispered, trying to ease the cries of your lover. His wings were spread out on either side of you, limply. At first, you were scared that the weight of him would only bring back the memories from today, but it felt good. It felt like you could breathe again. The weight of him resting on your body soothed you. You were safe and back in his arms.

You two stayed like this for a while. Losing track of time. Just hugging one another. Kissing. Trying to be as close as possible. Azriel was still laying on your chest when he spoke up, "I'm sorry for leaving you," but you only shook your head. "It's okay. Emotions were running high. Plus, it was enough to see Cassian having meltdowns; it would have set you off even more." Azriel hummed in response, "I'll talk to him tomorrow", "You should, Madja had to give him a sleeping substance because that fool would have drained the last bit of his energy sitting by the tent". Even if Azriel was mad at his brother for leaving you, he appreciated how much he cared. He knew that the guilt was eating him up, and he, just like Azriel, needed reassurance. "I love you," the spymaster mumbled, looking up at you. You flashed him a tired smile, leaning in to kiss his lips a couple of times. Savoring the taste of him. "I love you more, but you are definitely doing laundry now," you teased your lover, earning a chuckle in response to your answer, "Yes, ma'am."

[boobearymuch]

Revisiting Vices

Summary: You thought you knew Leon pretty well by now, but finding him on the balcony tonight with a cigarette in hand had you thinking – wow, maybe you didn’t. Tags: Leon S. Kennedy/gn!reader, light angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, insomnia, sex is mentioned (very very briefly), smoking, cigarettes, Leon S. Kennedy needs a hug Word Count: 1.4k Read on AO3

Notes: ao3 shutting down traumatized me enough to get over my fear of posting fics on tumblr 💀 enjoyy <3

It’s never bothered you – the way Leon’s insomnia seems to have bled into your own nighttime routine. Ever since his return from Spain – a trip he refused to discuss – the occasional bouts of insomnia have turned into a far more persistent beast. There was only so much you could do for him, only so much he would allow you to do for him – if only he could just open up. You thought you knew Leon pretty well by now, but finding him on the balcony tonight with a cigarette in hand had you thinking – wow, maybe you didn’t. 

“Those things will kill you, you know.” You’re trying to tease, but it comes out half-hearted. Something is wrong. He used to smoke, but quit after being drafted into that top secret government program of his. You’re not sure when or how he got his hands on a pack of smokes, but something about the way he fiddled with the cigarette told you this wasn’t his first one of the night. Leon gives you a weak laugh, a light huff of air that smelled of the cigarette’s musk.

“I’ll be back in bed soon. Get some rest.” You lean against the railing to watch him, much to his disappointment. He stares down at his hands, then you. “Are you mad?”

You shake your head softly. “Do you wanna talk?” Of course, he didn’t. You knew that. It’s why he sneaks off in the night to seek comfort in nicotine instead. Leon hangs his head and takes a drag. He does it so well, like he never quit at all. You can’t help but picture a younger version of Leon doing the same. Perhaps he smoked with other recruits during his police training; a young rookie who would rather cough and splutter than admit he couldn’t keep up with the tar. 

“Not really ready to.” Leon admitted gently, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around yourself and decide to face the street instead. You just didn’t want him to be alone right now. Leon had a nasty habit of getting stuck inside his own thoughts, which made the insomnia worse. Silence fell between the two of you – comfortable and long – as he smoked. You didn’t check the time before rushing to find Leon, but it had to have been early morning based on the quiet street below. A pair of pale blue eyes calmly watched you survey the stars above, or what little could be seen through the light pollution. 

“I used to live near a casino as a kid.” Leon’s words cut through the night air, and you nearly jolted from his sudden – albeit quiet – declaration. His voice came out hushed, as if afraid of disturbing the city’s peaceful night. “About thirty minutes away from our house. We went all the time. Not to gamble, of course – I was too small for that. My family liked going to the buffet.” His cigarette tapped against the railing, shaking off the excess. “I hated going. You couldn’t escape the smell of cigarettes.” You watched the end of Leon’s mouth flick up into a tired smile that never reached his eyes. “But the chocolate cake was the best there.”

Leon worries you sometimes. Just as he begins to pull away, he’d catch himself, and somehow reel you both back in. The story about the casino almost felt like an apology somehow. Like he was saying, I’m sorry I can’t tell you everything yet, but here is what I’m willing to share. “You think all chocolate cake is the best.” You whisper back. Leon shakes his head, your response genuinely making him smile.

“I have standards, you know.” You hum lightly, feigning disbelief, and silence prevails again.

Maybe on another night he would have stayed in bed; it wasn’t unusual to wake up to gentle tugs as Leon played with the hem of your sleep shirt, staring off into the darkness. On nights like those, he didn’t like talking either. Instead, he’d feign some half-hearted apology for waking you – but you both knew he meant to – before softly sliding his hand up your shirt. The sex took his mind off of whatever haunted memory came to plague his thoughts in the cruel hours of the night when sleep eluded him. He’d mewl soft thank you’s into your neck, fist your shirt like your flush bodies weren’t nearly as close as he needed you to be. 

After, you’d run a shaky hand through his tousled hair and refuse to sleep yourself until Leon’s breath evened out into a light snore. To you, there wasn’t a sweeter sound in this world that could compete. And no sweeter sight than the blush across his cheekbones the next morning when you teased him for drooling on your shirt. Perhaps he felt guilty for waking you like that so often. Maybe that’s why cigarettes have taken your place tonight. 

Another cloud of smoke fills the night air as Leon exhales, this one shakier than his last. “You don’t have to stay out here, you know.” Leon isn’t looking at you when he says this, “One of us should get a good night’s sleep, at least.” He then huffs out a mirthless laugh, “Fuck, I feel like I’m giving you second-hand insomnia at this point.” You bite your lip to hold back a stupid grin, but Leon frowns at you, “That wasn’t meant to be a pun.”

“You’re a natural.”

“I’m serious.” He insists.

A hum leaves you. “I am too. I’m out here because I want to be.” You gravitate to him without meaning to, your hand landing on his arm like a satellite pulled into orbit. His sullen eyes drop to the contact and stay there, “You don’t have to do this alone.” Your thumb gently glides across his moonlit skin, “And as long as I’m here, you won’t have to, got that?” 

You don’t mind reminding Leon of this every so often. You’d repeat it a thousand more times if you had to, and you might. There’s a heavy pause after your statement as Leon watches your hands. You understood that he was worried, but losing a few hours of sleep to give him company – peace – was well worth it. An ambulance siren starts up somewhere in the distance, and he finally nods in defeat. “Okay.” 

“Okay,” You repeat and let go of his arm, “Glad we settled that.” He curiously watches you step away to press your back against the railing, content with yourself. “You know, some chairs would be nice out here. I’m always thinking that, but I dunno, what do you think?”

You thought he didn’t hear you at first with how long it took him to finally respond to your dumb ramble. “Yeah,” He breathes out, and you hum comfortably. You’re about to suggest a shopping trip in the afternoon when a sudden pair of arms are pulling you to the side. The world spins when Leon’s warm lips find yours, kissing you like your skin holds all the answers to his desperate questions. And you don’t mind that his mouth tastes like cigarettes and unspoken horrors. You welcome his touch, his tongue, his broken gasps; you welcome all of him as he is. When he pulls away, his eyes are still closed, but your own trace every inch of his tired face. You wished he’d let you in on what’s going on in his head tonight. If you could ease his pain – just for a bit – it’s all you could ask for. Leon will come to you on his own terms though; it wasn’t anything personal. It takes courage to face the monstrosities of this world, but even more to talk about them. 

You only noticed he extinguished his cigarette when both his hands rose to trace your jawline. “Are you ready for bed?” He asks breathlessly.

“Only if you’re coming with me.” You murmur back.

“Yeah,” He sighs, thumbing your cheek, “I think I’m ready.” 

It occurred to you, in the early rays of morning sun, that maybe Leon couldn’t sleep because he was scared to. Maybe stewing in his own thoughts for hours on end fared him better than whatever horrors awaited in his dreams. But in the glow of morning light, Leon slept so soundly, so quietly. Your hand came up to softly brush a stray piece of blonde hair away from his cheek; what were you dreaming of, Leon? What keeps you up at night? 

You’ll never know for sure, but maybe you didn’t need to.

[sukirichi]

sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face.  “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently – for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan​ @ggsmashgg​ @dora-the-grownup​ @ninefuckingoneone​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[neo-shitty]

meet me where the flowers are — h.hj

excerpt. “ano daw la kun aadi la gihap? iba gud it kabutangan hiton akon kinabuhi.” (what if you were still here? things would’ve turned out differently.) — hain ka, bullet dumas 

pairings. hwang hyunjin x gn!reader

genre. hurt/comfort, angst

warnings. implied character death, mentions of death, references to the gwangju massacre of 1980.

word counts. 1.7k

notes. for those who have suffered in the hands of the cruel who took advantage of their power over others, we have not forgotten. | my entry for the 24/8 collab, inspired by the drama youth of may.

There is nothing but silence long after the call ends, deafeningly loud in the quiet of your office. And it’s suffocating.

Time slows and stretches, keeping you caged in the fraction of a moment during the call. The line was long dead, reduced to a monotonous beeping against your ear. The news didn’t shock you as much as you thought it would, less a source of peace of mind than a reminder of a weight once carried and now long forgotten. It wakes a dormant side of you, one you didn’t expect to remain asleep for so long, the part of you still tethered to your roots—to your hometown, Gwangju.

You’re out of your office the second it sinks, not necessarily in a rush but with a sense of urgency that won’t let you wait a day longer. You take the first train down seated by a window, watching time rewind outside the glass. The further you got, the lower the buildings and the further they were apart. Here, the fields stretched as far as the eye could see, cut by only train rails and uncemented paths winding through the greenery. The ride was long but it passed in a blink, sceneries growing more familiar the closer you got to the small town. 

It’s 3pm when you arrive at Gwangju and as if the whole town was encapsulated in a globe, shielded from the clutches of time, nothing much has changed. Springs in Gwangju are warmer than the ones in Seoul, the telltales of the upcoming summer already evident in the heat waves painting mirages on the streets. The town lacked the thick humidity of the city, its air free of grey smoke. There was no overcast sky, no smog looming overhead. Just a bright blue stretch with white wisps of clouds scattered and carried by the wind.

The view appears like a portrait mounted on the wall, the painting’s movement limited to the frames of the window pane. Its hues were vibrant against the dull browns of the room, your eyes naturally drawn to what was out there. The fields could be seen from here, green expanse topped with the warm yellow canola flowers that bloomed in May.

“_____?”

The hinges creak as the door swings open, the wooden floorboards groaning as the man crosses the room. His voice is unmistakable. It’s the same one that had been on the phone with you hours before, the bearer of the news you both dreaded and waited for these past few decades. 

The pain had numbed down long ago, memories long buried beneath newer ones. But the heart was a muscle and it remembers the way the rest of its system did. Mid-afternoons were once unplanned escapades to the canola fields and races down the in-betweens until your lungs couldn’t keep up. Other times they were hushed conversations in quiet libraries and playful nudges beneath wooden tables. Their focal point remained the same, the tall boy with a camera perpetually hanging over his neck like a necklace. The afternoons were the first to lose their meaning, your life switching back into your old routine after his disappearance. 

It was spring you’ve come to dread, having known him for the brief time of the year when the flowers were in full bloom. Spring passed and summer too, then the temperature cooled in fall until the inevitable frost of the winter made you wish time stopped there. And he’s forgettable throughout the other months, his memory tied to bright skies and open air, barely present in the rest of the year. But spring comes annually and for those months, reminders of him were scattered everywhere; in the flowers of the field, in the coolness of the breeze, in the warmth of the sun, and in the quiet of the afternoon. The vibrant season had long lost its color, forever tied to the ellipsis that haunted you for years—what if he made it back that day, would things turn out differently?

They found him today, alongside a few others in an excavation operation, nothing but sets of bones buried beneath rows of flower fields. Gwangju, determined to honor the memory of its own people, never stopped the search for its victims even now, decades after the event that smeared the small town’s history forever. 

“We found these buried along with him,” the man says, setting down ziplock bags on the table before you. “We've examined a few of the rolls and found photographs we could print and hang in the exhibit. But there is a roll we think you’d want to see.”

The Gwangju museum sat at the heart of the city. It was a bitter testament to a period of the town’s history repeatedly buried, preserving the memory of those who were never found nor searched for on its cream walls. Fragments of the past were caged in glass cubes, a commemoration for the brave souls who stood their ground against injustice even at the expense of their own lives. The museum stood as evidence of the downplayed catastrophe, those whose deaths were swept under the rug—buried along with those who were supposed to remember them. Missing posters covered the wall in a mosaic of names and faces. A few lived to tell the tale while others died fighting for what they believed in. Some of them found, others still missing.

Hwang Hyunjin’s disappearance was pivotal to the rebellion, the realization that the government was no longer trying to sniff out spies but trying to cover up the military’s abuse of power. You warned him long before that, but your pleas fell on deaf ears, his drive for freedom stronger than his need for safety. So he carried on, documenting both pieces of his life and fragments of history in the blinks of his camera. When you looked back on that afternoon, you remember the searing heat of the sun that was hotter than most days, the long wait for something that would never come. That day, he flew too close to it.

The projector flickered on the wall, pixelated figures appearing within the frame. There are spaces in between, images lost in time, but most of them remained. A warmth spreads across your cheeks, the sight of you from a younger time preserved in the shots that he’d taken. There’s a bluish tint to it but it still carried the warmth of those afternoons in the sun, the photos taken in chronological order in the months you spent together. You were the sole subject of every picture, the field of flowers fairing in comparison to the camera’s focus. You are there; under the shade of the tree on the hill you used to climb, across the table at the university library with your head bowed, looking out the window of his room wrapped in nothing but his sheets. You, in the eyes of Hwang Hyunjin.

Then finally, a photo centered around two figures, the cream walls in the photo blending into the room’s walls well enough it seemed that its subjects popped out of the image.

“We wanted to verify if the person in the photo is you?” the man asks, as if he hadn’t come to the conclusion long before but you give him a nod anyway. “And the guy beside you is Hwang Hyunjin?”

Even after all those years, your heart stutters at the mention of his name. You haven’t heard it in so long but it retained its familiarity, like the tides of time has left it untouched at the back pockets of your heart. In the photo, you sat next to one another, his arm lazily draped over the back of your seat. He smiled at the camera while you stared wide-eyed, regretting that you hadn’t smiled for the moment. But there were a lot of regrets whenever it came to him. A lot of time you wished you spent, countless letters you wished you kept, photos you wished you took, and the list goes on. Time wore down the memory of him, his face but a blur in your mind and his voice but an echo. But he is in the image beside you, definitive proof that he hadn’t been a figment of your imagination, that he existed beyond the entries of your journals from 40 years ago. 

The image flickers another time, the projector showing the final shot of the reel. This time, it is only Hyunjin with his head tilted and propped up by his arm. You remember taking it, the tremble of your fingers as you pressed down on the shutter. It captures the moment after he laughs at you, when he smiles after pointing out he could see you shaking from across the table. Turns out, the image didn’t end up shaky. You waited four decades to know that. 

The man takes your silence as an answer before he continues. “We’d like to exhibit this photo of him. The rest of his reels never captured him and the only other photo we had of him was the one on his missing person’s poster. Is that alright with you?”

You shake your head. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

“Would you like to keep a copy of these photos?” He checks the time on his watch, “If you’re heading back today, we’ll get it done as soon as we can.”

You reassure him that you have no qualms against waiting a little longer. He tells you that you were lucky enough. That had the military rummaged through Hyunjin’s things longer, you wouldn’t have been alive today. A simple circumstance, luck undisputed. But you weren’t thinking of that then, dying by his side being better than dealing with the grief and not knowing what had happened to him. You know now, and maybe you have known all along, but it was the discovery of his body that brings you peace—the quiet of a long drawn out disturbance in the back of your mind finally silenced. The long line of ellipses, spanning page after page for the past four decades, finally coming into an end today.

Across the table, Hyunjin looks like he’s looking straight at you. As if he was proud of where you’ve gotten now and he heard every whisper you muttered to him on nights you missed him most. If he was here, he would’ve marvelled at it, basking in the freedom he fought for endlessly. But he wasn’t. For now, he’s but a still image on the wall—disappearing as the projector was disconnected. A fragment of you once lost and only now found; a love long treasured and now let go.

© neo-shitty, 2022

[ivy-plays]

"We'll be alright"

Pt.1

Summary: you've been married to Owen Grady as well as training a pack of velocaraptors at the New Jurassic World for two years now. So what happens when the two of you are asked to check on the paddock for a new dinosaur only for things to go sideways and send the entire park into chaos?

Catigory: fluff/angst

Pairing:Owen Grady x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, Hoskins,breif mention of sex(if I missed any let me know) not proof read

A/n: So I ended up changing the plot of this oneshot completly from the original bc writers block just wouldant let me finish the old plot. But I hope you injoy!!

"Blue!Echo! Eyes up over here!"

"Delta!Charley! Eyes up!"

I could feel the sun baking my skin through my seemingly usless t-shirt in the suns harsh heat.

"Charley pay attention I see you!" I comanded the raptor who had begun to look over at her sisters and Owen.

"Alright hold it like that! " Owen called out from my right before reaching into one of the buckets attached to the rail that held the girls snacks. I began reaching into my own bucket when Owen called out again,"Echo!" He said tossing the rat down to Echo who jumped and snatched the treat from the air. " Delta! Youre turn." I say tossing Delta her rat before doing the same for Charley. Lastly owen threw Blue her's and the exersise was over. "And. Go!" My husband and I called out at the same time pulling our arms down to our sides dissmisng the raptors below.

Owen sauntered over to me and wraped his arms around my middle as a smile began to grow over my featurs.

"Well hello there mister Grady. How may I help you?" I joked, raising an eyebrow.

Owen returned my smile before placing a soft kiss on the crown of my head taking my hand and leading me down the steps.

"You can help me by accompining me at dinner tonight. Which will be fallowed by a wonderfull night with eachother." He stated while gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckels.

"Thats sounds nice. Tho I would much rather skip to the 'wonderfull night with eachother' part." I said stoping and placing my arms loosly around Owen's neck with a smirk which he returned with one of his own.

"That is surrtently doable." He said moveing his large hands to rest on my hips and leaned in closer to my face before placing his lips on mine.

"Well. That sertenly was impresive. Tho I still think they need a feild test." A male voice began.

Owen and I pulled away from eachother sighing as we saw the owner of the voice. 'Out of all the times this prick could show up its now.' I thought to myself while crossing my arms over my chest.

"We've already told you. You can not take these animles out of there incloser. There pack hunters. You show them an outside world there never going back in there." Owen explained for what seemed like the onehundreth time this month.

"So you say but we will never know untill you try." Hoskins began again.

"There not wepons Hoskins," I began" There animals with there own free will. So when it comes down to a feild test the only thing that would keep you from becoming there next meal is the bond and trust Owen and myself have built with them. But I'm starting to think not even that will save you." I remarked walking closer to the man to the point where I was mearly a foot away.

Hoskin's began to form a reply mouth barly open before anotothers cut him off.

"Pig loose!" One of our new interns squilled while runing along the cat walk. "Pig loose!" He repeated as others began to go and help him wrangel the pig. "Hey kid! Do do that!" I shouted up knowing exactly what would happen. And it did. The moment the poles strap was around the pigs neck Delta took hold of it and pulled the intern into the pin. "Shit" Owen and I say simultanisly before running to the gate that would let us in the paddock before anyone could stop us.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Our friend and coworker Barry called out now at the gate as well but not going in.

"Just be ready to close the gate!" Owen called out as we now stood between the intern and our girls.

Now I'm not gonna lie. Im scared as shit.

"Kid I want you to run out of here. Now" Owen orderd useing his oh so famous 'Alpha voice.' The kid breifly nodded before making a b -line out of the padock all while Owen and I kept the raptors attention on us.

"Charlie back up! Don't think I can't see you!" I call out to the now retreating raptor.

"How are we going to handle this Owen?" I asked my line of sight never disconecting from the dinosours infront of us. But insted of anwsering me directly he called out to Barry at the gate.

"Close the gate now Barry!" He ordered and only then did I take the risk of quickly shifting my eyes to look at my husband.

"Are you crazy man! Im not going to close the gate!" Barry retorted and I had to agree,

"I agree with Barry on this one Owen. I know that we have built alot of trust with the girls but I do not think that it's enogh to keep them from eating us." I vocilized my conserns taking a slight step back from Delta and Charlie.

"Just close the gate Barry. And ------- get ready to run." He replyed to Barry and I. I could here Barry cuss Owen before the sound of the gate begining to close behind us could be heard.

"Get ready to run." I heard Owen mutter before he started counting down on his fingers.

3

2

1

As soon as his pointer finger droped the two of us broke out in an all out sprint twords the now almost closed gate. Once we finaly reached the gate I dove under first closley fallowed by Owen and the second Owen was clear the gate closed with Blue stoping right agenst the bars.

The pair of us got up and dusted our selves off before Owen began on the Intern.

"You're the new Intern right?" He began walking up to the poor kid who just silently nodded," well you ever wonder why there was a job losting? Never turn youre back on the cage." He said and with that Owen turned away from the kid and began walking away and I fallowed.

"Theres youre field test." I said gruffly as we walked by Hoskins .

An Pt:2. Look! I finnly posted what I decided to be the first part of a series. Dont know how many parts yet tho. But I hope anyone who reads this injoyed !

Next,>

Tag list:@kaykinotic ,@rubyxx16