#set right after ch1 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

celestie0 · 3 months

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere.

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him.

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.”

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already.

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it.

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead.

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk.

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?”

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says.

You glance at the time. 11:56am.

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.”

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.”

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest.

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.”

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings.

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you.

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them.

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed.

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately.

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible.

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before.

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks.

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks.

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.”

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase.

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby.

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you.

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you.

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded.

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you.

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.”

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself.

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long.

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing.

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before.

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.”

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door.

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously.

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm.

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?”

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?”

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest.

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands?

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious.

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him.

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how.

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it.

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters.

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly.

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.”

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been.

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly.

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too.

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

��Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you.

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.”

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck.

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area.

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.”

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?”

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says.

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.”

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.”

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him.

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back.

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear.

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake.

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

1K notes · View notes

scoonsalicious · 3 months

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)

Word Count: 1.6k

Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.

A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic

The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.

You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.

You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.

"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."

You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"

Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.

You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."

"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."

"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."

Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?

"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"

"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.

"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."

Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."

You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."

Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."

You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."

"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"

Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."

Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.

"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."

"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."

You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."

Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"

Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."

A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."

"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."

Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.

"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"

"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."

"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."

"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky x y/n

151 notes · View notes

bunnybubae · 8 months

Text

(M)🚦Red Light: The Fear | Ch1 [JJK]

👉🏻[Series Masterpost]

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (GymOwner!JK/MotoRacer!JK/Biker!JK-TattoArtist!OC)

Genre: S2L - Smut - Fluff - Angst

Summary: Jeon Jungkook never lets any distraction take him away from his motorcycle or his gym for more than one night. He just wants to speed around the track and feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the sex he gets thanks to his charm, is just a side dish to his life. A tough past brought him on that Ducati that he learned to love, a past you'll uncover, as you slowly seep in under his skin. It's a hell of a ride, in all senses, as you try to escape your own hell in the meanwhile. Where will this ride bring you? Will it be worth it in the end?

Chapter Warnings: This chapter describes an episode of harassment (it involves an unwanted kiss), please be aware of this if this theme makes you uncomfortable, description of past emotional abuse (manipulation, toxic jealousy), Angst, mention of alcohol consumption, Oc's ex is a stalker, cops are grossly negligent in this au, Tae and Hani to the rescue, Jk is hot af but this is nothing new.

Wc: 7.4k

A/N: Hello there! I've been planning this whole series for over a year and I'm finally able to make it come to life, slowly but surely! As always, I'm sorry if there are some grammatical mistakes, english isn't my first language and I don't have a beta, so pls bear with me! 🫶🏻

Let me know what you think about the series, my box is always open! - Joy 🐰

September 12th, Tuesday

The sun has already set, leaving the place to the colors of dusk.

You feel that your heart might explode in your chest at any moment. Is it the september evening breeze that's causing the chills covering your skin, or if it's all due to this visceral fear that's blocking your muscles right now? You can't quite tell.

After some extra hours at work, you thought you could finally close the tattoo shop in peace and go home to enjoy some leftover pizza in front of your laptop, but no- Ray evidently had other plans for you, deciding to unexpectedly visit you in the most unpleasant way possible.

You wish Hani had stayed a little longer today to close the shop with you, because this sickening feeling it's becoming unbearable. You feel like a mouse in front of a ravenous cat and you want to scream, but you just don't find the courage to do it.

He caught you off guard from behind, while you were looking for the keys in your bag, then he effortlessly spun you around on the spot and you found yourself blocked by your shoulders leaning against the entrance door of the shop.

Your throat tightens as you struggle to breathe regularly.

You're helpless and right now the only thing you can do is curse the day you replied to his message on Instagram, curse the invitation to participate at that damn workshop you and Hani organized for an exchange of advertising between tattoo artists. You can only curse that day and the following ones you spent with him. Of course you couldn't imagine that your perfect relationship would turn into such a nightmare, your ex used to be so kind and loving with you at the beginning, not even close to the obsessive, pleading mess that's keeping you trapped in utter fear right now. Jealousy can sometimes turn into such an obsession evidently, it can change people and you never expected something like this to happen in your life. Everything only got worse when after almost a year in your toxic relationship, you found the courage to finally break up with him.

Weeks had passed since the last time Ray had disgusted you with his threatening messages and unexpected visits during work, you were almost convinced he had found another hobby but as a matter of fact, you were wrong.

He understood that you can ignore his messages or even block his number for good, that you won't listen to him when Hani or your clients are around, but you certainly won't be able to ignore his forced presence, especially now that you're totally alone. He knows he has your undivided attention in this way.

He slurs something but you can't even pay attention. His inked arms are situated on each side of your head, while he looks down at you with desperate eyes. You don't even recognize him anymore. He used to take extra care of his appearance and health back when you two used to date, but now it seems like he is facing a grave problem with drinking. His body is close to yours, way too close for your liking and his warm breath mixed with whatever alcohol he drank, almost makes you gag.

The smell of his cologne is the only thing that's still the same and that you recognize, it hits your nostrils and it brings back memories that now only hurt.

“Y/N, baby- why do you keep ignoring me like this?” his voice is strained and his face is contorted in anger- or nostalgia, you can't even tell. "You're killing me and I always treated you well" He is trying to stop the thoughts that are clouding his mind, slurring out the words breathlessly.

"I fucking miss you! I don't know what else to do to make you mine again!"

These words are filled with desperation and you hate it, his need for possession is crystal clear in his statements. He threatened you multiple times saying that if you didn't get back together he would harm himself, claiming that the pain was too strong for him to bear, but he never said he wanted you back because he loved you, not even once. The only thing that he misses is controlling you, the only thing that he loves is taking away everything from you, putting himself at the center of your world.

He only wants to call you his, like a mere emotionless object. You hate it, you hate him.

He probably never wanted to take care of your heart as you believed and the realization that you were in love with him once, that his twisted feelings were strong for you but not in a healthy way, it makes you sick to your stomach. You should have known better, but you were blinded by your feelings.

There was a moment when you thought that you deserved this treatment, you told yourself that you allowed all of this because you were too naive to notice that those toxic feelings were poisoning your persona, till it was too late and they suffocated you, caging you.

"G-get away from me" you manage to say in a small voice as your heart thunders in your ears. Your stomach twists in a knot when you sense his moving hands. The fear turns into pure horror when his hands find their way to rest on your cheeks a little too harshly and you instinctively hold your breath.

His drunken lips crash into yours with urgency, and you feel like you might throw up at all the disgusting sensations you are experiencing right now. Your body reacts of its own accord, rejecting this desperate, unwanted kiss before he could deepen it or do something worse.

“I said get away from me!” you scream in a broken voice as you try to push him away with all the strength you possess.

Ray is looking at you, almost surprised that you had the courage to reject him. Despite your effort he doesn't budge much, it's like his feet are planted to the ground.

You're not able to meet his bloodshot eyes as you desperately try to free yourself. He's mumbling something that you can't quite comprehend and then his heavy hands are pushing your shoulders against the cold glass of the shop entrance, once again.

You didn't know you were crying until your vision started to blur with tears. This feeling of helplessness is the same one that kept you stuck in Ray's twisted love for months.

Red flags were scattered all around, he started by making you doubt your abilities as an artist to then insistently ask you to pass all your male clients to Hani, co-owner of the shop as well as your best friend ever since you were children. She was the one who covered up your lies with Ray, as you tried to keep your clients aways from his madness.

He bulldozed everything around you, but Hani always stayed by your side, refusing to believe Ray's lies. She was your sturdy pillar when everything around you was falling apart.

It was when Ray began to spread heavy lies about her, to lead you to break the agreements and contract with her, that you finally understood the gravity of the situation, that he was capable of totally ruining your life if you allowed him to manipulate you further.

The threatening texts and stalking episodes that followed are nothing compared to what keeping a relationship with him could have entailed.

You're not sure when Ray started behaving in a toxic manner, cause you still remember the rosy beginning of your relationship and everything was just fine. Hani says she started noticing changes when he decided to surprise you one day at the shop and found the both of you engaged in a simple conversation with some male regulars. This evidently made him very jealous, because from that moment, the ordeal began.

Your thoughts and sobbing are interrupted when Ray goes from mumbling pleas to insulting you with hatred, while his hands squeeze your shoulders as if to make sure to imprint on your skin all that he is feeling for you.

You're not sure how you managed to free yourself from his grip, next thing you know you're running with all the strength you have left in your body, abandoning the alley of the shop to find a safer place. You hear him calling your name a couple of times as you put more and more distance between you. You fear that he might follow you and block you once again and the mere thought of finding yourself defenseless in the arms that once wrapped you with apparent affection, is enough to make new tears flow down your cheeks.

The streets are almost empty and after reaching one that is well illuminated by shop signs, you look around to make sure he is not after you. When you make sure he is nowhere to be found, you grab your phone with shaky hands to call your best friend. You keep walking down the sidewalk as you try to calm your crying.

“Y/N?”

After a few rings, Hani answers the phone and hearing her voice ruins your desperate attempt to stay calm. You let out a liberating cry as you tell her that Ray really went too far this time.

You knew that Hani had a date with her boyfriend, Taehyung, who she met several months ago at the shop. Tae got a tattoo from her and from that moment they became inseparable. You knew they were going out to dinner and you feel bad ruining their date like this, but they are the only people you can trust who know everything about your struggles with your ex.

Hani speaks quickly but gently on the phone, she clearly tries to keep calm while she tells you to go to the bar that you often visit after work, located just a few minutes away from the shop. She reassures you, telling you that they would be there as soon as possible.

“Don't hang up until you get there, okay?” Hani adds, she can probably sense how shaken you are by what just happened and leaving you alone, even if it's over the phone, is out of question.

“I'm almost there,” you reply weakly through your sobs as you keep walking. You dry your face and try to normalize your breathing when you reach the small street where the bar is located. It's a quiet little place that holds countless memories for you and Hani, it was there that you and her celebrated the purchase of your tattoo shop a few years ago and it's where you return whenever you feel the need to unplug for a moment, while remaining in an familiar environment that makes you feel at ease.

You walk through the entrance still holding your phone to your ear. The warmth hits your limbs pleasantly while lounge music and the smell of beer begin to envelop you like a blanket.

On the other end of the phone you hear a loud windy noise and you deduce that Hani has already gotten on the motorcycle with Tae and that they are therefore about to arrive.

You feel a little calmer.

You end the call, knowing that Hani can't hear you and instead you opt for a text, informing her you'll wait for them at your usual spot.

When you scan the place, you're glad it's only a tuesday as there are only a few people. You reach the slightly more secluded area of the place and you sit at your favorite table. The place is filled with fairy lights hanging above your head, their light hitting the brickstone of the walls and the wooden furniture just right, giving a cozy vibe that you always liked.

You then take off your jacket and your bag before sitting down, glad to have some dividers shielding you as you feel the aftermath of the adrenaline rush coming to you, all your strength drains away. Your shoulders ache from the tension and because of Ray's grip on them, your feet throb from the wild run and your heart continues to beat like a concert is taking place inside your ribs. You lean on the table with your elbows as you bring your hands to your head to massage your temples.

How could you ever imagine to find yourself in a similar situation?

You naively refused to believe that Ray was capable of hurting you in any way. He was too sweet and helpful with you at the beginning to think he was evil, your shared passion for arts was the core of your relationship and you also learned something new about the art of tattooing thanks to him. You were grateful for all the help he gave you in the shop. Ray is also objectively hot and the physical attraction and sexual chemistry were very strong between you.

Everything was pretty perfect.

Too much indeed, to the point that thinking about it now you wonder how you didn't notice how much the whole thing was stinking a mile away. You couldn't imagine that behind his perfect appearance and behavior, there was such an obsessed manipulator. You truly believed that he loved you like you loved him.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes with the heel of your hands. Whatever he has done now, you're sick to ask help from the cops, they did nothing useful when you needed them in the past.

"We can't handcuff a guy without clear evidence that he's acting in bad faith, he's a heartbroken young man trying to win his girlfriend back!"

These were the words they said only two months ago, when you tried to report his constant messages and stalking episodes. Nobody did anything. They dwelt mostly on the threats he sent, on the fact that he said he was going to hurt himself if you didn't answer or consider getting back together with him and they also didn't think his repeated visits were something to worry about, since he used to do that when you were still together, in their opinion.

They even had the courage to tell you that you guys are young, that people are made to make mistakes and learn from them and all that bullshit people say when they need to give air to their mouths.

They made him seem like the victim here and you are so sick to deal with this bullshit, you'd rather lock yourself home and never get out than asking their useless help once again.

You don't feel safe anyway, neither without nor with them.

You've resigned to the idea that you can't count on them and that you must do something yourself, but what can you do against a much taller and stronger guy?

You shiver at the thought but then your attention is drawn by a soft voice.

“Hey,” when you lift your head, your gaze softens as it meets your best friend's face. She promptly sits next to you without even taking off her motorcycle jacket and gloves and she pulls you into her arms.

"I swear if I see him around I'll gouge out his eyes and make earrings out of them."

Hani states as she continues to soothe you in her embrace. A little smile creeps on your face, mostly because you know that she would be perfectly capable of doing what she just said.

She is scary sometimes, but you love her nonetheless.

You feel an extra hand caressing your shoulder "That's a creepy way to do some recycling but I approve" Taehyung adds in a lighter tone, when you move to look at him you notice he is looking down at you with a sad smile on his face.

Since Tae started dating Hani, he has become a dear friend to you, you love the natural way he takes care of her, and you appreciate the several times he came to your rescue, having a fight with Ray to defend you. He is a good friend. You smile at him but the smile doesn't reach your puffy reddened eyes.

It's nice to know that your friends are always there for you, you feel so helpless though, so fragile right now.

Tae orders the usual for the three of you and some snacks from a passing waiter, and then he joins you and Hani at the table, both of them ready to listen to you.

“Thank you guys for coming- I'm sorry I ruined your date.” you feel guilty and your voice is still trembling a little bit.

“Don't even joke about it, Y/N.” Tae's tone is almost scolding as he fixes their motorcycle jackets next to him.

“You know that Tae and I see each other almost every day," Hani says "You don't have to worry about that.”

“It's just that I- I never felt so weak before” you admit as your eyes begin to shine again, unshed tears gathering on the rim of your lower eyelid, threatening to fall at any moment.

“I tried to push him away when he kissed me.” the memory of his lips on yours makes you shudder, so much so that you can't believe that there was a time instead when you craved those lips all over your body.

"I was barely able to push him off of me." Hani and Tae keep listening, anger readable on their faces as you recount what happened. You manage to speak on the verge of crying, your eyes glimmer but this time you find the strength to keep your tears at bay. You feel anger taking over your fear right now, that's probably why you refuse to cry over your disgusting ex and his demeanor yet again.

Hani interjects, stating that she'll do all the closing at the shop with you from now on, adding that she's starting to consider buying you some pepper spray, so you can empty it on his face if he shows up again.

The waiter returns with your orders and some water, telling you to call him back if you need anything else. He seems to have noticed your mood and doesn't want to interfere too much while remaining at your service anyway. You thank him with a warm smile before he goes back to doing his job elsewhere.

“Pepper spray is a good idea and you should buy it if it makes you feel a little safer," Tae begins "but I have another idea.” he adds before sipping his drink.

“I have a friend who races with me who also owns a gym, he even teaches kids how to throw good punches and stuff.”

You had almost completely forgotten that Tae participates in a regional motorcycle racing championship every year, Hani did nothing but talk about it at the beginning of their relationship.

Hani nods vigorously after taking a sip of her own drink, agreeing with her boyfriend.

"It wouldn't be a bad idea actually!" she says “Punching the shit out of that dick head would be even more satisfying!”

Tae fishes his wallet out of his jacket pocket and then rummages through its folds. When he finds what he was looking for, he places a business card on the table and pushes it towards you.

"Jungkook took care of the gym full time before also dedicating himself to racing" he explains "Now there is a guy who helps him with the management, but he prefers to take care of the main courses himself"

You collect the business card while pondering what to do. Taking some boxing lessons might help you boost your confidence, your strength and it might be a good distraction as well.

"It's not that far from the shop" you recognize the name of the gym having passed in front of it a few times while you wanted to buy breakfast in a nearby coffee shop before your shift at work. You could use the opportunity to learn something new that you could also use to your advantage if needed.

You listen while Tae tries to explain what he knows about the gym, telling you that his friend Jungkook mainly handles the children's class in the early afternoon and the adult's class that starts at 7pm. That wouldn't be bad for you, since your closing time is around 6 pm, cleaning up and preparing the shop for the next day won't take much time.

“If you decide to try, tell him I sent you,” Tae continues “I can already tell you tho- Jungkook loves to joke, sometimes a little too much, but he's a good guy and knows how to be serious when necessary”

You slightly nod, looking back at the piece of paper in your hands.

You can try, and if you don't like it you can always leave.

You can grab an uber or whatever to reach the place and to go back home. It should be fine if you book it a little earlier, so you don't have to wait alone outside.

"Okay," you suddenly say "I think I'll give it a try."

Hani and Tae both smile, visibly content with your choice.

"Do you want me to walk you there?" Hani asks "It'll be a 30ish minute walk" You accept Hani's proposal without thinking too much.

"How about thursday?" you add "We can go together and then I'll get organized with uber and stuff"

Hani agrees, then she drifts her attention to Tae, who starts to discuss with her the time and place he will be coming to pick her up after she drops you at the gym.

The evening continues normally, you regain your tranquility bit by bit, even tho there is always a pinch of sadness and anger bothering you in the back of your mind. Sharing some quiet moments with your friends managed to cheer you up enough to genuinely laugh at the silly bickering between the two lovebirds.

You can't help but wonder if you'll be able to get over this mess anytime soon.

When it's time to go home, Hani decides that she will be spending the night with you at the apartment you once shared for more than a year, before she started to crash often at Tae's.

Ray could always decide to make the situation worse by showing up at your door, you think. If he decides to do so, Hani could create those famous eyeballs-earrings much sooner, she said. The joke makes you all chuckle, you are happy to have them by your side, gosh- you truly are grateful.

Spending time with them definitely improved your mood and you feel like you can overcome this bad period of your life, with time and patience.

You thank Tae who waited for your uber to arrive before putting on his helmet and get on his motorcycle.

You feel incredibly tired but hopeful, this new experience could really help you on multiple fronts.

September 14th, Thursday

When you wake up, you feel like you've slept for barely 2 hours, but it's been like this since the whole stalking shit started, so. You lack your usual enthusiasm, that unbridled desire to create works of art on other people's skin, it's slowly vanishing away and that worries you.

You do your best to react though. The day goes by better than yesterday, your appointments at the shop flow smoothly one after the other and some potential customers have come to ask for some info on the costs of piercings, something Hani mainly manages.

You keep your mood up to meet your customers' requests, to smile and make them feel comfortable.

You are finishing the last touches on the skin of your last client of the day when, looking up at the clock hanging on the wall, you realize that soon it will be time to close, you shudder a little even if you know that Hani will close the shop with you this time, it's been only two days after all, the events are still too fresh. You let the buzzing sound of the pen distract you as you fill the last bit of skin with ink.

In no time, the shop is empty and silent again, except for Hani who has the pleasant habit of humming as she tidies up her side of the shop. You finish cleaning your station while your mind wanders. You think that it was so natural and easier to enjoy the peace of this place before.

This has always been a safe place for you, your very home. Of course, the concept of home is usually a place where you don't do your job, where you sleep, eat and rest. You pay the rent for the apartment, but this is still where you spend most of your time, this is that place that you know you will never leave, that you feel it's yours, that when you walk through the door makes you feel in your element.

It shouldn't be that difficult now, it's still the same shop, but the need to hide your appointments to avoid arguments with your ex in the past and the fear you began to feel as time passed, have tarnished what this place means to you. Your face drops in sadness at the thought. You want to go back to loving this place like you've always done at all costs and find some serenity again. Tattooing has always been your passion, something that sadly distanced you from your parents, who always wished you would pursue a different career. You won't let Ray ruin what you accomplished with sacrifices.

The shop shines when you're done, you pick up the bag previously prepared for the gym and you and Hani close the shop together.

You hope these lessons can help you release some stress.

Hani walks by your side, talking about everything and nothing, sharing a little laugh when you tell her that you can't wait to punch a sandbag imagining Ray's face.

The evening is pleasantly chilly and you're almost at the gym when you ask Hani if she wants you to wait with her for Tae to arrive.

“Don't worry I'll meet him at the corner,” she reply "besides, the class has already started, you should head inside."

You look at your phone, realizing it's way past 7:30pm already and you begin to feel a little anxious. Hani then tells you to call her or Tae if you need anything, even if they're going to spend the evening at the movies, she makes sure that you know you can always rely on them.

You nod, smiling "Thanks for being there Hani, I don't know how I'd have reacted to all of this alone" You truly don't know. Hani waves her hand "Don't even joke abaut it" she replies, mirroring your smile.

"You even talk like Tae now!"

She rolls her eyes but she knows you are just teasing her.

“I want to know everything about your first lesson tomorrow!” she emphatically throws a few empty and totally random punches. You giggle at the scene shaking your head “Sure sure- I’ll show you what I learn.”

“As long as you don't punch me, I'm fine with it.” You push her playfully and then you say goodbye as she walks away and you enter the gym.

It seems like a recently renovated place. You expected the usual smell of sweat and plastic typical of the gyms, but you are actually surprised to catch a fresh hint of flowers in the air. You notice a small reception near the entrance door, a well decorated counter with all sorts of flyers on top and red and blue led lights that illuminate the gym logo in the front, but there is no one behind the counter to welcome you.

You take a few steps through an arch that leads to what is apparently the main area of the gym.

The floor is mostly covered with a rubber tatami and you see some hanging plants and flower pots by the walls, which explains the very subtle smell in the air. Different tools and dumbbells are scattered around while several people are engaged in exercises of various kinds in front of some floor to ceiling mirrors.

You scan the place, pleased by the vibe it radiates. It surely is strange to find so many flowers and plants in a place like this, but it gives an original touch to it. Your gaze lands on a bunch of guys wearing boxing gloves while observing the explanation of an exercise. The one that's explaining, according to Tae's description, should be his friend Jungkook, who is standing in front of them while performing the exercise in question as an example.

Wow. Those are some wide shoulders right there.

You watch him intently as the dark haired guy moves. Something about his movements is attractive and you guess it's just him when he turns around and you notice the lip ring that Tae had told you about and the right arm completely full of colorful tattoos that you are already dying to curiously inspect. Yup, he's hot.

You watch him from the entrance as he performs the exercise with ease, his muscles flex and you can glimpse at them while his clothes deliciously wrap around his body. Tae could have warned you, it's gonna be hard to concentrate with this guy.

Jungkook almost seems to sense your gaze on him when, once his explanation is over, he turns towards the entrance you are standing at and your eyes meet for a moment. You tense up cursing at yourself, gawking at a complete stranger at the gym is creepy, But then you notice he's smiling while he approaches you and the group of guys he left is now performing the exercise.

"Can I help you?"

Of course, even his voice had to be hot. Fuck. You shift on your spot, clutching the bag you're carrying on your shoulder as you hope the warmth you're feeling on your face doesn't color your cheeks.

"You must be Jungkook," you reply, feeling a little awkward. Why even the sound of your own voice sounds stupid to you right now, damn.

"In the flesh." he responds confidently, pushing his hair back with his fingers.

Ok, now it's fucking clear as day that this guy knows very well that he is good looking and that he has an effect, which makes you think that he must be used to the women eating him up with their eyes.

"And you are?" he asks with curiosity laced in his voice.

"Uh sorry, I'm Y/N" you compose your thoughts trying to ignore the increasing awkwardness you feel explaining that "Taehyung told me about your class and I would like to give it a try."

"Kim Taehyung? Are you two friends?" He seems surprised as his eyebrows raise.

“Yeah, his girlfriend is my best friend.”

Jungkook chuckles by himself, amused by something you ignore.

"You're the tattoo artist, aren't you?" he asks, smiling as if he figured a puzzle or something like that.

“Did he say I was coming?”

“Not exactly,” Jungkook replies “but I met your best friend at Tae's a few times and I heard her say your name while speaking to Tae.” He seems pleased by the coincidence.

The fact that he remembers this small thing doesn't surprise you that much, but you start to feel anxious wondering if he happened to hear something related to your situation with Ray, you'd rather avoid talking about it. It's already difficult to deal with it with your friends, but most of all, you don't need compassion.

Jungkook observes you momentarily, and almost as if he sensed the drift of your thoughts, he beckons you to follow him towards a freer area of the gym. You follow him till you reach a set of gloves neatly arranged in one corner.

“Can I see your hands?” he asks casually.

"Sure." You leave the bag you're carrying on your shoulder on the ground, moving it to the side so it's not in the way, then you bring your hands forward with your palms facing up to let him observe them. Jungkook gently gathers your hands, and his touch is so delicate you barely feel it. He observes carefully, humming while he tries to figure out which pair of boxing gloves would fit you well.

It's not even a proper touch, it almost feels like the slight tickle that a feather would give and it's... pleasant. You're not completely indifferent as his fingers continue to brush the back of your hands, the sensation making you feel a little shy even though he is just looking at your hands and nothing more.

"Try these" His fingers leave you to take and offer you a particular pair of boxing gloves that he thinks might fit you. You inspect them briefly, wincing a little at the sweaty feel that envelops your hands as you put them on.

You feel your hands swimming inside, indicating that they are too big for you. You look at Jungkook asking “Do you have a slightly smaller pair?” Jungkook seems to have already considered the possibility that these were too big. He is giggling as he hands you another pair of seemingly smaller and more colorful boxing gloves and you see him try to bite back the smile that's on his pink lips. You can't help but think that the way he scrunches up his nose is actually cute.

You switch up the gloves with the colorful one, immediately understanding why he was chuckling like that. “I know, it's a big problem for me,” you admit, chuckling at your own hands, “I can't find latex gloves that fit perfectly 'cause of this” He laughs with you, amused by the smile that formed on your face when you noticed that the gloves he gave you are for children, specifically a blue and red spiderman themed pair.

"Using the words 'big problem" just made the whole thing funnier!"

"Well, I'll throw spider punches today." you joke.

Jungkook let's out a small laugh as he is looking at you with something in his eyes, you're probably the first grown up who needs kid's gloves and you catch him subtly checking you out.

This sense of lightness, simple yet helpful for your tired mind, is doing some good to you, you can feel it as you notice that you're exchanging genuine smiles and gazes since you started talking.

You follow him, avoiding to step on the tatami with your shoes as you approach the corner with different punch bags. He stands next to you in front of one of the standing punch bags available.

“Alright- so, there's no need to throw hard punches, for now just show me how you throw them.”

"But I don't know how!" you admit.

"Exactly, I want to see your natural movements, to understand what we'll have to work on'' Jungkook replies as he crosses his arms on his chest. The motion captures your eyes for a moment too long. That sleeve tattoo looks perfectly done and you barely refrained to take a closer look, the delicious way his tatted muscles are popping out of his white t-shirt is too distracting.

"Now show me how those little hands would hit the bag" his tone has slightly changed and he is smirking at you. He's teasing purposely and you think you saw him winking at you, or maybe you just imagined it. You roll your eyes as an attempt to save yourself from the embarrassment of being caught gawking at him like that.

You ignore the persistent warmth on your cheeks and try to remember the movements you saw earlier, as he explained to those guys. They seemed to get into position before they did anything else, so you try to imitate the movements you remember as best as you can.

You bring your left arm across your chest as your right arm punches the punch bag in front of you with ease. Jungkook's face is fully concentrated, he hums as he nods a couple of times, his gaze lost as he ponders on the movements he just saw.

“Okay, first of all- your left arm.” Jungkook moves, putting himself between you and the punch bag.

"Get back in position again, the one before you throw the punch"

You promptly do what he asked, repeating the previous movements once again. You stop when your arms are folded like before and you're ready to throw the punch. Jungkook's hands move as he says "Relax your shoulders." and then they gently rest on you.

This time his touch is not a simple featherlike brush, you feel the weight of his hands resting delicately on your skin and you stiffen at the contact. He said you should relax, but his hands on you caused the opposite reaction.

Ray and his hands come to your mind, the feeling of him holding you against the glass door is fogging your thoughts again, even though Jungkook's touch is soft and gentle on you.

You wince a little, taking a step back instinctively. Jungkook immediately withdraws his hands, sensing your discomfort.

"S-sorry, I was trying to correct your posture, I didn't mean to-"

“No- it's fine" you interrupt him, suppressing the negative emotions that started to poison your guts.

You really want to focus and learn and until now, you had no idea your ex's behavior has affected you up to this point.

Jungkook watches you dubiously, you can't decipher the expression adorning his beautiful face right now, he seems worried, thoughtful, maybe he's wondering what kind of an idiot would want to learn how to throw punches and then reacts like this at the slightest physical contact.

The idea of having to give up because of this sensation, pisses you off. You gulp the lump on your throat while you close your eyes briefly, then you resume the position, being careful to relax your shoulders this time.

"Better?" you ask in a calm voice. Jungkook nods with a faint smile on his face. Even if he probably noticed there's something wrong, you're glad he's not asking questions.

"What else wasn't right?"

Jungkook notices your determination to continue and returns to your side again, opting for a demonstrative explanation this time.

He moves his body naturally and you observe him carefully. His movements are so precise and satisfying to watch and the desire to learn, to achieve more or less this naturalness, gives you the right push to continue. Most of all, now that you know that Ray left this horrible sensation on your skin, you're determined to get rid of it.

Jungkook explains the importance of taking a correct position, to be able to hurt and not get hurt. A faint smile returns to your face at his way of explaining this kind of thing with passion and care.

You imitate his movements by moving your left foot forward, your left arm at your chest like before but slightly higher, until your glove touches the side of your chin. When you feel that you have planted your foot well on the ground, with a slight movement of your shoulders, you accompany your right fist towards the bag, also rotating your pelvis slightly.

And just like that, you land a perfect punch on the punch bag.

Jungkook cheers softly so as not to disturb the others but his satisfaction is evident. You smile to see him so taken for so little, but you have to admit that you feel pumped, and yes- it was only one perfectly landed punch.

“That's a great start!” he adds enthusiastically.

"So even small hands can throw some good punches huh!" You laugh softly and Jungkook joins you, genuinely amused.

"I'm sure those little punches will be able to do a lot of harm soon!" he declares "If you wanna join the gym, of course."

This is what you needed to hear, it gives you courage, you can't wait to feel totally comfortable with your abilities, you're ready to commit to this and Jungkook saw it, when you eagerly said "Of course I want!"

That -little episode- long forgotten when you two started to talk comfortably that evening. Jungkook took some time to explain how and when he gives his lessons and to show you around the gym as well as the female's locker room, making sure you knew you could use everything you wanted once you felt comfortable enough to train alone.

From that day, you started going to the gym almost regularly. To be honest, as time passed, you couldn't wait to get back on that tatami to train after work, it soon became a healthy habit.

And, on the other side, you could see Jungkook.

You like having him around, you and him started bantering all the time almost instantly. You got used to his presence and his ways of teasing pretty fast and he's been a breath of fresh air for you. You've been attracted to him since day one, you're not gonna lie, but he soon became some kind of a friend.

Yeah, that kind of friend you'd gladly rip their clothes off, but whatever.

The lethal mix of wide shoulders, buff body, lip ring, tatted arm and that sweet face of his when he smiles and scrunch up his cute nose…

Yup, you're kinda crushing on him and training with him almost everyday it's quite challenging.

You two share a nice friendship, but it's clear that something else is hidden underneath. The constant glances and flirty jokes at the gym are proof of that and from time to time you also catch him pretending not to be looking at your butt.

You are more at ease now and that's also thanks to him and his lessons.

Everything seems to be falling back to place, if not an even better one.

Ray has been silent since that night outside the shop. No messages, no calls, no unexpected visits, no nothing. The fear to meet him again is still persistent and sometimes the horrible things he did to you still haunt your mind, but you're now able to manage to get rid of it in no time. You're more confident, you sleep better and you're learning a bunch of new stuff that keeps your mind busy.

You feel like you're able to breathe again, like you got your life back in your hands.

Hani walked with you to the gym a few more times after the first time, but you soon started to book an uber to go and get back. It wasn't difficult to get into a rhythm: you book it through your phone a little earlier, so you don't have to wait outside and that's it, like this you're able to close the shop and get into the car immediately and when you have to go back home, you take a shower at the gym, say your goodbyes and head outside, where your uber is already waiting for you. Simple and effective.

Just to be extra sure, you leave your lessons a little earlier, like at 9pm instead of 10pm. Better safe than sorry.

Jungkook never asked the reason why you always leave early, not explicitly at least. Sometimes he's teased you by asking if you quit training early to fight crime with your cute hands, a recurring joke you always involuntarily smile at. Tae had warned you after all, Jungkook jokes a lot and in all this time spent at the gym, training with him, you had the opportunity to see for yourself.

There's something though that seems to creep behind his eyes every now and then and you can't quite put your finger on what. Sometimes he seems extremely thoughtful or even sad, even a few moments after he just cracked a joke.

You never had the courage to ask, just like he never asked why you reacted like that the first time he touched you. You don't want to ask him what's bothering him and apparently he doesn't want to ask you either. Jungkook began to invade your thoughts just like that, with ease, and this hidden mystery behind his beautiful brown eyes keeps drawing you to him more and more.

| [Next Chapter] ▶

175 notes · View notes

abitohoney · 5 months

Text

All I Want for Christmas Is You

Chapter 6 of 6 - Bells are Ringing

AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5 || CH6

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, 18+, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, AU - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Cunnilingus, Teasing, Humor, Vaginal Fingering, Orgasm Delay (nothing extreme), Begging, Strap-Ons, Face-Sitting, Corny & Cheesy Dialogue, kinda sappy, light bondage

Word Count: 7.4k

Fic Summary: It’s your first year spending the holidays with Sevika, and though the two of you couldn’t be any different in your level of holiday spirit or view of the traditions that come with it, your shared adoration (and sexual attraction) for each other is more than enough to get both of you through it together.

A collection of little holiday-inspired scenes, technically chronological, but really could be read in any order or as stand-alone oneshots. Includes a nice blend of sugar (fluff) and spice (smut).

Chapter Summary: Beyond excited at the prospect of marrying your one true love, you arrange a small wedding in record time. In less than a week's time, you’ve got your special day planned and set for New Year's Eve. (includes a nice blend of sugar and spice)

AN: Brand new chapter for this holiday season!!!

Beyond excited at the prospect of marrying your one true love, you arrange a small wedding in record time. In less than a week's time, you’ve got your special day planned and set for New Year's Eve. It helps that the only guests invited are Sevika’s- and by extension your- friends. Silco and all his crazy crew.

Turns out your impatience paid off for more than just you. You learn Sevika is actually quite a mess of nerves when it comes to these things. In those few days leading up to your big day, she’s either pacing your home muttering things to herself or smoking cigarillo after cigarillo at your tiny kitchen table and nervously tapping her foot nonstop.

When the day arrives though, it couldn’t be any closer to perfect. There’s a lovely dusting of snow covering the ground, trees, and buildings. The sun shines brightly above, making everything sparkle like something from a lovely snow globe. It’s chilly, but without a single breeze, it’s actually comfortable.

You sit in the small dressing room connected to the reception hall, donning just a white corset bra and short slip as Ran works on your hair and makeup. You’re rather surprised at how skilled they are, not only in application and technique, but also in selecting such a beautiful mix of silver and white accents. Ran even dons a lovely silver suit, and subtle streaks of sparkling silver in their choppy black hair.

Just as Ran finishes up your lipstick, you hear the door fly open.

“Here’s your dress lady!” Jinx hollers as she comes bounding over to the two of you, slinging your wedding dress around like a ragdoll.

She knows your name, but insists on calling you ‘lady’. Likely something to do with her dislike of Sevika and thus you by relation. You take no offense to it, honestly finding it rather entertaining. How your forty-year-old fiance managed to have beef with a teenager is something you’ve yet to learn, but it amuses you nonetheless.

“Thanks Jinx,” you reply with a smile, “You can just hang it up right there.” You nod towards a small rack behind a privacy screen.

She all but throws it onto the rack before clomping over to inspect Ran’s work. As she leans down, well into your personal bubble, you try not to laugh at her scrunched up face while she scrutinizes your makeup. She too is all dolled up with silver and white. Although it’s obvious she did her own work considering it looks as though she’d simply locked herself in a closet and set off one of her bombs, but full of silver and white glitter.

“Nice job Ran,” she finally exclaims before straightening back up with a dramatic swing of her blue braids. “She looks halfway decent.” Her bright eyes look down at your figure before meeting your eyes. “Lady, I really don’t know what you see in Sevika. You should marry Ran. Ran’s single.”

You nearly choke at that last comment, eyes growing wide.

Ran appears considerably less shocked, their dark lips curling into a crooked grin.

“Well, Jinx, I see a lot in Sevika–”

“Also I thought white dresses were only for virgins.”

Now Ran bursts into snorts and barely contained giggles.

You narrow your eyes at the mischievous blue-haired girl.

“What?” she exclaims, then dramatically rolls her eyes and head. “Everyone knows you two did the dirty deed in Silco’s pantry at the Christmas party.” She accents those words with a circle of thumb and pointer finger on one hand, sticking the pointer finger of the other hand repeatedly in and out of the circle.

Ran’s thoroughly enjoying themselves now, and you can’t decide whether you should laugh at Jinx’s crude and ridiculous gesture, or be embarrassed by the fact that more than just Silco knew what you and Sevika had done.

“Speaking of that lumbering oaf, I’m gonna go see how Silco is fairing with his attempt to make her less ugly,” Jinx states before promptly spinning on her heel and skipping towards the door to an adjacent room.

You turn back to Ran, who is just finally recovering from the hilarity of that scene. “I really don’t know what to make of that girl,” you admit, “She’s funny, but obviously blind. Sevika is literally the most attractive woman I’ve ever met.”

Ran shrugs before starting to pack up all their supplies.

You make your way to the floor-length mirror behind the privacy screen to admire your hair and makeup. Ran had really outdone themselves. All that was left was to slip into your wedding dress. A quick glance to the clock says you have less than twenty minutes before the ceremony starts. You wonder how Sevika is fairing. You hadn’t seen her since breakfast that morning, and she had been a disaster of fried nerves.

You hear the door to her dressing room fly open suddenly, followed by the cackling of Jinx as she prances back in.

“What’s so funny?” you ask suspiciously as you step back out from the screen.

“Sevika is freaking out!” she cackles.

Oh no.

Brows knitted in worry, you rush past Jinx and towards the door.

“Hey! Isn’t it bad luck for her to see you before the wedding?” Jinx calls out.

“I don’t care. She needs me. Besides, I’m not in my dress yet.”

The moment you step into the room, you realize just how bad it is. Sevika is sitting, or at least she’s in a chair, but bouncing her legs so erratically it looks like she’s got bugs. She’s facing Silco as he works on applying her makeup. Or at least trying to.

Before you can even say anything, Sevika’s wild eyes are on you and she’s leaping from her chair, ignoring the fact that the eyeliner Silco was in the process of applying has now left a black streak clear down the side of her cheek.

“Oh, that’s not a problem. I’ve just been trying to apply your makeup for the past hour,” Silco drawls with a dramatic throw of his hands.

“Babygirl!” Sevika exclaims, her stormy gray eyes taking in your state of undress, “Are you okay?”

She too is not fully dressed, donning only a pair of white boxer briefs and a white wife pleaser.

Silco turns in his seat to peer over his shoulder at you, rolling his good eye before capping the liner and tossing it into the pile of cosmetics.

Sevika steps around Silco to get a closer look at you. Her brows are knitted in worry and sweat beads along her hairline. She really was freaking out.

“I’m okay,” you assure her, taking her human hand into yours and rubbing it soothingly. “But it looks like you aren’t. What’s wrong?”

“I’m fi-” Sevika pauses, her eyes growing wide. “Where are the rings?!”

She spins around, searching the small room in a frenzy. You have honestly never seen your fiance so frazzled in all your time with her. She was usually so level-headed, or at worst furious, though never with you. She was quite literally a hot mess.

“Sevika, they should be in your jacket pocket. Remember, we put them in there this morning so you wouldn’t lose them.” You pick up her jacket from where it hangs over the back of a chair, pulling out the two boxes from the inside pocket. “See. They're right here. No need to worry.”

Sevika spins around and you can literally see the relief wash over her face. After you slip them back into the pocket and lay the jacket back down you take her hand again and pull her close. You smile up at her softly. Using the side of your thumb, you wipe away the bead of sweat at her temple. “Everything is going to be just fine,” you assure her. She doesn’t appear to believe that, her brows still tightly knitted in worry. So you take her human hand and sneak it under the back of your slip so she can feel the skin of your bare ass. The corner of her mouth twitches as she takes a handful and squeezes.

So close.

You wrap your arms around her neck and pull her down for a sweet kiss. Or at least you intended it to be. The moment she pulls your body flush to hers, she seems to relax. Her tongue prods at your lips, which you happily grant entrance. She swirls her tongue around yours, both of you moaning softly.

Silco intentionally clears his throat, but neither of you pay him any mind. You’re not about to stop kissing your fiance when you can literally feel her worries melting away, taken over by lust.

Her metal hand joins her flesh hand beneath your slip, grabbing a handful of your other asscheek and gently kneading it. She slots her knee between your legs and uses her grip on your ass to drag you up along her thigh. The long, deep moan you release echoes in the tiny room when she finally breaks the kiss to catch her breath.

The two of you stare into each other’s hooded eyes, aching, needy, and oblivious to everything else around you. Specifically Silco.

“I want to fuck you right here. Right now ,” Sevika husks, emphasizing that last word by dragging your aching cunt up along her thigh again.

“Sevika,” you whine, recalling you two have only a little time left before you need to be out and ready for the ceremony. But Janna, do you want her right now.

“No. Really, don’t mind me. I rather enjoy a free show,” Silco drawls sarcastically from his seat.

“Sevika, we have to get ready,” you say softly.

She stares down at you for a moment, lips parted as she contemplates. You know she’s fighting between admitting you’re right, the logic, and wanting to fuck you silly against the door, the instinct.

“If the two of you wish to be at your own wedding- on time- I suggest you save your escapades for tonight,” Silco drawls.

Sevika releases a long sigh.

He’s right.

You’re right.

She releases her hold on you and steps back.

Though she looks just as hot as she did moments ago, new beads of sweat glistening against her dark skin, she at least doesn’t appear to be the least bit worried. But, just to make sure, you grab the small flask of whiskey you had snuck into the other pocket of her jacket and pass it to her.

“Drink. I need you to relax and enjoy our big day.” Realizing her eyes are not on your face, you follow their stare to find she’s focused on your breasts, which are pushed up and out thanks to your ridiculously tight corset-style bra. You smirk up at her. “Why don’t you give each one a kiss for good luck.”

Silco groans loudly.

Sevika’s lips curl into a smirk and she bends down to not only give each breast a soft kiss, but also to make an attempt at sucking a bruise into the supple flesh.

“Sevika!” you chastise, “You can’t mark them. People are going to see it!”

“That’s the point,” Sevika mumbles against your skin before licking a long stripe from one breast to the other. As she straightens back up, she flashes you one of her lopsided grins, knowing damn well she was pushing your buttons and getting you worked up.

With a roll of your eyes, you stretch up to kiss her cheek. “Save the bad behavior for tonight,” you tell her before heading back to your dressing room.

Great.

Now you’re horny and hot as hell, and you’ve got to get into your dress and somehow manage to look and act normal as you walk down the aisle towards the woman who got you so hot and heavy in the first place.

Though you managed to finish getting ready with plenty of time to spare, you can’t help but worry about Sevika.

You stand beside Ran, arm linked with theirs, as you wait for your time to walk down the aisle. The aisle is a long, white length of silk that runs down the sidewalk that leads from the sliding glass door you stand before, clear up to a beautiful gazebo. The gazebo is dressed in lovely drapes of white and silver silks, flowers, and a sprinkling of lovely green sprigs. The snow is lightly falling, creating the perfect winter scene, just as you’d always imagined it. And the icing on the cake; you can see your gorgeous fiance standing under the gazebo, dressed in a beautiful white suit, perfectly tailored to her muscular and curvy build. Her silver tie sparkles just as brightly as the snow surrounding the area, as does the lovely white snowflake pin that holds her silky ebony strands back in its typical half-ponytail. She looks absolutely stunning.

Silco stands back and off to the side, dressed in a silver suit similar to Ran’s, acting as both best man and the one to give Sevika away. Even from this distance, you can see the small smirk on his face as he watches Sevika. It honestly warms your heart how damn cute this is.

You take a deep breath, and slowly release it through your nose. Nerves tingle and burn beneath your skin, but you wear the most enthusiastic smile. It’s a wild mixture of anxiety and excitement bubbling up with each passing second.

Ran taps you on your arm and you turn to find them giving you an encouraging grin. “Ready?”

You take one more breath, then nod.

Ran opens the glass door, arm still linked with yours, and guides you out as the music plays.

The guests, only a couple dozen or so, all turn from their seats in the chairs along the front of the gazebo to watch. It’s almost comical, seeing all of Silco’s crazy crew all dressed up in fancy suits and dresses, all full of bright smiles as you walk down the aisle. Some even look close to tears.

But your attention is quickly drawn to your waiting fiance whose eyes are locked on you. Sevika smiles that cute little crooked smile you love so much as she takes in the sight of you in your beautiful white dress and fluffy white shawl. The snow is feather soft as it falls on you and your guests. Though Sevika is sheltered beneath the gazebo, you can see specs of snow just starting to melt into her dark hair.

You’re all smiles and bright eyes as Ran walks you up the stairs leading to the podium where Sevika stands with the officiant. Seeing her up close, you can really see how downright stunning she is. Her white suit fits deliciously snug, accenting every line of muscle, every curve of chest, hip, and waist. The silver tie, snug to her neck, sparkles much like her silver eyes. But what really knocks you out is the way she’s smiling at you. Like you are literally the most beautiful and perfect thing in the world to her. Your heart swells knowing that’s exactly what’s going through her head.

You stand across from her, nodding to Ran as they step aside and towards the back as your maid of honor.

As the officiant addresses the guests, you almost tune him out entirely, too lost in grinning at your wife-to-be, who appears just as lost in you. Your warm breaths mingle, little white clouds swirling and mixing between you. Though the air is chilly, your entire body heats with excitement and adoration.

Sevika looks as if she’s finally lost all those anxious thoughts. You’re not sure if it’s the drink you handed her earlier, or if she’s just too distracted by you to care. Whatever the reason, you’re grateful that she finally looks comfortable. This moment is just as much for her as it is you.

Sevika repeats her vows as if on autopilot, her eyes on you the entire time even as she slips her hand into her pocket to retrieve your ring.

“With this ring, I thee wed.” Her voice is deep and low, as if she only intends for you to hear. As if you’re the only person there.

Your cheeks burn and ache with how hard you smile as she slips the ring on your finger. She must be feeling the same, her smirk so big and wide you can see that adorable little tooth gap of hers.

She hands you her ring from the same pocket and you can hardly contain your glee as you slip it onto her thick finger. “With this ring, I thee wed,” you say softly, voice shaking with excitement and emotion. You feel the familiar prick at the corners of your eyes, so close to bursting into happy tears.

Sevika’s eyes are glued to your lips and her fingers twitch at her sides. She knows what comes next.

“You may seal your union with a kiss.”

The officiant barely finishes his sentence before Sevika’s metal hand is gripping your waist and pulling you against her body. Her human hand slides along the side of your cheek, fingers behind your head guiding your lips to hers in a bruising kiss.

She kisses you like she’s been craving it for years. All tongue and teeth with no regard to the onlookers. Not that they seem to mind as they cheer, clap, and whistle.

You wrap your arms around her neck and attempt to match her fervor only for her to pull you impossibly closer. Her tongue swirls around your own. You’re almost dizzy and out of breath by the time she finally releases you.

She rests her forehead against yours, a dopey smile on her face as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. The condensation from your now much warmer breaths almost clouds your vision.

“Not even death will take you from me,” she whispers.

You beam up at her. You’re not sure how that could be true, but you believe every word she says.

The two of you walk hand in hand down the aisle together as the guests toss the freshly fallen snow at you. You giggle and shield your face against Sevika’s shoulder, clinging to her bicep and trusting her to guide you back to the reception hall.

By the time the two of you manage to get inside, you’re both covered in the white fluffy snow. You do your best to dust it off Sevika’s suit and hair as she does the same to you.

Sevika grabs you by your forearms and pulls you against her. You gasp at the unexpected move, nearly forgetting how to breathe when you meet her fiery gaze. She looks ravenous.

“I want to fuck you,” she husks, her lips a hairsbreadth from yours.

“I- I do too, but-” you start, words failing you when she teases her tongue along your bottom lip.

“But nothing,” she rasps, “Let me take you into that dressing room and fuck you for the first time as my wife.”

Your cheeks burn and your core aches at her words. As tempting as it is- as tempting as she is- you two will be expected out in the reception hall any minute.

“We- we just need to be patient. After the reception, we can start our honeymoon and do it as many times as you want.”

“How long is the reception,” she all but growls in frustration.

You giggle at her impatience. Though you don’t entirely blame her. You’re just as enthused to consummate your marriage.

“A few hours.”

“Fuck,” she curses, shaking her head while it still rests against yours. “Babygirl, I can’t wait that long.”

“You can,” you insist, “I know you can. Just be patient and it will all be worth it.” You pull back from her. She reluctantly releases you from her grasp, her nostrils flaring in sexual frustration. “Just think how much more fun it will be when you can finally release all that pent-up energy.” You reach up on your toes to kiss the tip of her nose before whispering in her ear. “I’ll let you have me however you wish.”

You pull back to examine her face. That soft, sexy smirk is back. Seems you’ve placated her. At least for now.

“Now come on, wife , let’s go entertain our guests,” you say as you link your arm with hers.

The reception goes on without a single problem. With an open bar, you were pretty sure Silco’s crew would be more than content, no matter the circumstances. Most of them mingle amongst each other near the bar after dinner, but several do make it to the dance floor where you and your wife spend a good part of the night.

The first song is specifically for you and Sevika. It’s slow and sweet. Sevika surprises you, remaining well-behaved despite how close she holds your body to hers. Her arms are wrapped tightly around your waist, yours around her neck as the two of you sway back and forth to the slow tempo.

You both wear soft, adoring smiles, gazes locked and turning out everyone else around you. Sevika tilts her head before dipping down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. Your skin warms and tingles at the sweet gesture. Then she brings her mouth to your ear. You expect her to whisper something dirty, but you’re left pleasantly surprised.

“I love you.”

Those three simple words nearly take you out at the knees. When she pulls back to peer down at you, you’re certain you’re going to cry. How did you ever get so lucky to snag such a beast of a woman whose heart she only shares with you? No one else gets to experience this side of her. At least not up close and personal like this.

“I love you too,” you choke out, so damn close to breaking into tears. You rest your head on her strong shoulder, face buried against her neck for the remainder of the song, not trusting yourself to keep it together if you remain looking at her.

Several drinks in and Sevika definitely starts losing that control, quickly shifting from sweet, lovey-dovey to that fiery passion you knew all too well. Not that you’re complaining. Even your inhibitions start to slip away the more you drink and dance.

By the time the DJ calls for you and Sevika to the middle of the dance floor for Sevika to remove your garter, Sevika has lost all restraint.

Sitting on the chair facing your guests, you know you’re in for it with how Sevika eyes you like fresh meat. It’s no surprise when she puts her whole upper body beneath the skirt of your dress. Not at all necessary for the task at hand, but you know she’s got other things on her mind than just retrieving that tiny bit of lace wrapped around your thigh.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth, biting back the sounds that threaten to escape as you feel her lips press against the inside of your calf. Your cheeks burn under the scrutiny of so many people. And it only worsens when you feel the press of Sevika’s warm, wet tongue slowly gliding up the inside of your thigh. The one without the garter.

Sensing her final destination, you bring your hand to cover your mouth and hope the audience thinks it’s just to stifle giggles. She reaches your thin lace panties and pauses. Unknowingly, you hold your breath, legs damn near trembling in anticipation. It’s a good thing you have your hand over your mouth. There’s no holding back the wanton mewl she pulls from you as she slides that devilish tongue clear up the center of your slit, moaning as she tastes your arousal through the thin fabric.

You close your thighs around her head, realizing all too late that you’d just sealed your own fate. She takes advantage of her locked position, her mouth pressing against your barely clothed cunt. Another swipe of that thick muscle has your mind reeling and your core clenching.

Just when you think she’s going to do it again, she takes mercy on you and pries your thighs open. She moves to the opposite thigh, her teeth catching on the edge of the lace lining the garter and smoothly pulls it down your leg and off over your heel. She stands, garter still between her teeth, cheshire smile on her smug face. She grins at your flushed face for a moment before turning to the audience to show off her successful retrieval.

Everyone cheers, hoots, and hollers, spurring on that ego of hers. If you weren’t so damn flustered, you would give her a good piece of your mind. Unfortunately, you aren’t even sure you can manage to stand on your wobbly legs.

The remainder of the night doesn’t get any less risque. After several more drinks and dirty, slow-grinding songs, Sevika removes her jacket, rolls up her shirt sleeves, and loosens her tie. She stands behind you, hands on your hips as she grinds against your backside to the beat.

Her mouth moves up along the side of your neck, sucking, licking and nipping at the stretch of delicate skin. You tilt your head to the opposite side, granting her more access as you moan softly, uncaring if any of your guests on the dance floor can hear.

Her lips pause at your ear. “How much longer are we gonna do this, babygirl?” she husks.

You hum and smile as you push your ass further back into her, rubbing it in a motion you know she can really feel.

She growls and nips at your ear. “If we don’t go soon I’ll just drag you to the bathroom and fuck you there.”

You slide your hands down the side of your body until they meet hers where they grip your hips. “Aren’t you the one who always speaks of patience?” You tease. “We’ll be done soon. Couple more songs.” You glance around the room, there’s only a few stragglers over at the bar and a couple on the dance floor. “Almost everyone has left.”

“Well then maybe I’ll fuck you right here then,” she purrs, sliding her flesh hand down to cup your cunt through the layers of your skirt.

“Sevika!” you chastise, but it’s lost to her in the way you moan her name and grind against her hand.

She chuckles, warm breath wafting over your neck and shoulders, and good god you are very tempted to take her up on either of those offers.

You two barely make it to your private little cabin she booked for your honeymoon before she attempts to rip your dress off. You stumble in as she kicks the door shut behind her, her hands ripping at the zipper of your dress. The dress falls into a pool on the floor, quickly forgotten. You’re left in just your corset bra and slip skirt.

“Wait!” you exclaim as she attempts to rip those off as well. “I bought something special for the occasion!”

“So What. I’m just gonna rip off whatever you put on,” she husks and pulls you back towards her by your waist.

“Fine, but at least let me put it on so you can see it once!” you insist. You squirm in her grasp, too tipsy to manage your movements. Not that you would have ever stood a chance against her strength anyway. “It will be real quick. I promise.” When you dodge her mouth reaching for your neck, she finally caves.

“Fine. But make it quick,” she huffs.

You scramble over to your suitcase, nearly toppling over when you bend down to pull the bag out that hides your lingerie. Sevika snorts from her spot leaning against the wall behind you and you shoot her a nasty glare. “You’re a bit drunk too,” you remind her, “You hit your head not only getting into the limo, but also getting out.”

She rolls her eyes before her hungry gaze follows you as you saunter- or more like wobble- towards the bathroom.

You’re grateful for selecting a fairly simple set of lingerie. In your current state there’s no way you would manage anything complicated. After slipping out of your bra and slip with minimal tipping over, you quickly pull on your white, lacy babydoll. You take a quick glance in the mirror, pleased to find the cut of the babydoll perfect. It accents every curve delightfully and reveals just enough skin to tease.

“Thought you said this would be quick!” Sevika grunts from just outside the door.

When you sneak back out the door, you don’t bother hiding the grin painting your face. You know she’s going to like your little outfit, even if she does rip it off you. “Patience, Sev,” you purr.

She pushes herself off the wall and turns to you. You swear you can see her pupils widen the moment her gaze travels up your scantily clad form. That lovely crooked grin of hers appears and you can’t help but giggle at her obvious approval.

“You like it?” you ask sweetly.

She steps closer, that sexy smirk curling higher. “I do.” She slides a finger across the fabric hugging your breasts. “In fact-” She lets that finger glide down the thin fabric between your cleavage and licks her lips. “-I think we’ll keep it on tonight.”

You giggle. “Doubt that.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”

You reach up to grab her tie with a playful smile. “I bet you can’t last more than three minutes before you’re ripping this outfit to shreds.” You start to pull her towards you as you slowly back your way to the bed.

Her lips curl into a crooked grin. “Oh you wanna make a bet, babygirl?” Her hands find your hips, eyes locked on yours as you continue to pull her.

You nod.

“I win, you’re mine to do with as I please for the entire night.” Her voice is low and dangerous. As if what she’d do with you would truly be devastating. But you both know, no matter who wins, you’re both going to enjoy it.

“Well if I win, which we both know I will, you’re mine to do with as I please for the entire night,” you counter.

“Deal.”

You take a quick glance at the clock beside the bed. 11:41. She’s got to last until 11:45. Highly unlikely. Your attention returns to her and don’t bother trying to hide your confident smile.

The backs of your knees bump into the mattress and you tug on her tie, pulling her lips to yours. Both of you moan into each other’s mouths, tongues swirling and fighting for dominance. Of course Sevika wins, every part of her overpowers you. Not that you mind.

You continue to pull her along as you sit on the bed and scoot backward. She follows without breaking the kiss, her knees moving along the bed on either side of your thighs. It’s not until your head collapses against the pillows that you finally release her and break the kiss. Lips parted and wet, you both attempt to catch your breath.

Sevika hovers over you, her hands on either side of your shoulders and knees on either side of your hips, eyes half-lidded and burning with lust.

After a moment she finally rises on her knees. She loosens her tie and pulls it over her head. Her grin is lecherous. That should have been your warning, but rather than toss the tie aside as you expect, she scoops your wrists up and wraps the tie around them before securing the other end to the headboard.

Your gasp of surprise is met by a sinister little chuckle. One that has that familiar ache between your thighs pulsing.

She quickly removes her white blouse and tosses it aside before shimmying out of her pants, leaving her in just her white wife pleaser and boxer briefs.

Her mouth crashes into yours again. This time her kiss is wild. Sloppy. But she doesn’t linger there long before she’s making her way down the side of your jaw to your neck. She moves her knees, pressing them between yours and forcing you to spread them open.

You wrap your legs around her waist, moaning as she finds your pulse point and sucks hard. Then she’s moving even lower until her mouth finds your breasts. You desperately want to thread your fingers into her hair as she sucks matching love bruises into the plump flesh of each breast, releasing a frustrated huff and pulling against your restraints. You can feel her lips curl into a devious smile, clearly amused by your distress.

“You’re an ass,” you whisper breathlessly.

“You love it,” she mumbles before licking a long stripe between your cleavage.

As much as you’d like to argue that fact, not only is she right, but your head empties the moment she rocks her hips, dragging herself between your legs.

“Sevika,” you whine, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure rolls through your body.

She chuckles and rocks her hips again.

You can already feel the desire pooling low in your belly. The two of you have been craving each other the entire day. It’s not going to take much to get either of you off. Especially not when she keeps acting so fucking cocky.

One of her hands grope at your breast while the other remains on the mattress. She continues to grind into you, pulling moan after moan from your parted lips. Her fingers slip beneath the cup of your lingerie and attempt to pull it down.

She growls in frustration, the fit of your lingerie apparently a little too good. The rhythm of her hips falters as she diverts her attention to her attempt at removing the offending material. You peer down at her through hooded eyes, a small smile on your face as you witness her struggles.

She mutters something under her breath, most likely a curse, and you barely contain your laughter. It’s only a matter of time before her frustration boils over and she rips your clothes off, just as you said she would.

She glances up at your bound arms, realizing she can’t pull the lingerie off over your head and it’s her own damn fault.

This time you snicker and she flashes you a nasty look. She sits up on her knees, and even though you know what’s coming next, you still release a startled squeal when she reaches down with her clawed metal fingers and tears right through the flimsy lace. She doesn’t stop there either, making short work of your underwear as well.

Now she’s the one chuckling. Not that it matters to you. A quick glance to the clock, 11:43, and you’ve confirmed your victory.

“You lost!” You exclaim, but you’re not prepared to find that smug smile still painting your wife’s face.

“Did I, though?” She taunts, her eyes darting up to your bound hands, then back to your surprised face.

Realization sinks in, but before you can protest, her mouth descends to your breast, teeth clamping down on the hardened peak.

Your sharp gasp dissolves into a soft moan as she soothes the marks she left with a swirl of her tongue. Your eyelids fall closed again. Her lips remain curled in a devious grin while she continues to suck and tease the sensitive nub.

She moves to pay the same attention to your other nipple, alternating between biting, licking, and sucking. All the while you strain against the tie holding your wrists, desperately wanting to touch her. To guide her head lower where your body aches for her the most.

“Sevika, please,” you whine, arching your back when she bites down particularly hard.

“Please what?” she asks.

Your eyes slowly flutter open to find her smirking face now hovering over yours.

“Please touch me.” You know those words won’t be enough for her. They never are. She’s a sadist who loves to make you tell her exactly what you want, just so she can see you flustered. Though you'd be lying if you said that didn’t make your core burn just as much as it did your cheeks.

“I’ve been touching you, sweetheart.” she teases.

“Lower…” your whine trails off into a wanton moan when she intentionally pushes a knee between the apex of your thighs.

“Where?”

“Sevika!”

“Use your words. Tell me where you want me to touch you.” She’s taunting you, but Janna it’s so damn sexy, especially with that husky voice of hers.

You squirm beneath her, trying desperately to rub yourself against her knee, but she quickly pulls it away with a chastising “Tsk”. You’re so damn turned on and needy you can’t help the pathetic sob that rips from your throat.

Finally, you cave.

“Touch my pussy! Please, Sevika!” you beg, cheeks burning.

“That’s my good girl,” she purrs and you keen. She brings her lips to yours in a passionate kiss, stealing your breath away. She slides her calloused fingers slowly down your stomach until two fingers rest just outside your wet folds, her middle finger hovering just above.

She swallows your whimper.

You swallow her evil little chuckle.

She finally takes pity on you and slides her middle finger through your slit. Her tongue swirls around yours, mimicking the motion of her fingertip circling your clit.

You writhe beneath her. The sensations are too teasingly slow and soft. You need more. You need her inside you. When she hears you whimper against her lips, she finally breaks the kiss to peer down at you.

“Sevika,” you gasp, “Stop teasing!”

“Hmm,” she hums, “You want my fingers inside that pretty little cunt?” That damn cocky smirk still paints her face and it makes the knot low in your belly pull tighter.

You nod your head frantically.

“You sure it’s ready?”

Another nod.

“I don’t know, babygirl. I don’t want to hurt you if you’re not ready.” She runs the tip of her finger through your entrance again, collecting your juices before returning to tease the bundle of nerves above.

Even in the haze of your arousal, you’re aware that she knows damn well you are more than ready. You can feel the wetness leaking down the insides of your thighs. And you know she feels it too. She’s toying with you. Trying to get you even more riled up than you already are.

“I’m ready!” You try to give her a stern look, but it falls short when she slides two fingers through your folds.

She hums again, “You are pretty wet.”

You say nothing, just stare up at her with pleading eyes. Janna, she’s so fucking sexy you’re certain the moment she finally does give you what you need you’re going to lose it almost instantly.

Just when you think she’s finally caving, she drags that blissful torture on even longer, deliberately sinking her middle finger ever so slowly inside you. Simultaneous groans fill the room. For as many times as she’s used those fingers, you’ll never get used to how sinfully thick they are. How you can feel each knuckle and each callous drag along your walls. Likewise, she never gets enough of how deliciously tight and wet you are.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” she groans, her warm breath wafting over your lips as she lowers her head. “Such a tight, wet pussy.”

A wave of pleasant warmth rushes over your lower half, followed by an ache that makes you crave more.

“And it’s all mine, isn’t it?” she husks.

Words fail you as she slides the last remaining length of her finger inside you and trails the tip of her tongue across your bottom lip. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Is this pussy mine?” she asks as she begins slowly sliding her finger in and out.

You swallow thickly and try to answer, but you’re too drunk on pleasure.

“Answer me or I stop,” she growls before nipping at your bottom lip.

You yelp, more startled than hurt.

“I- I-” you struggle to form words while she relentlessly distracts and teases you, running her tongue along the little indents she left on your lip. “Yes, it’s yours. All yours.”

“That’s right,” she husks, her lips grazing yours before she seals them with another quick kiss.

She starts fucking you with a slow, steady pace, rocking her hips with the motion as if she was strapping you. You rock your hips along with her, teeth catching your bottom lip in an attempt to hold back your moans. But she’s not having that.

She slips another finger inside, increasing her pace until you’re unable to keep your mouth in check. Moan after moan spills from your parted lips as she fucks you in earnest. Your hips rock with hers in time with her fingers thrusting. The bed shakes, headboard rattling against the wall. Neither of you notice, too high on the sounds and sensations the other is providing.

You can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching, the knot in your belly burning and drawn tight. The rocking of your hips falters until you finally give up and let her take complete control.

She gladly takes over, speeding up even more, curling her fingers so with every withdrawal she’s hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars.

“That feels so good,” you mewl.

“Yea? You like that?” she huffs, her breaths just as ragged as yours.

“Janna, yes!” You fight against your restraints, desperate to touch your wife.

“You’re close aren’t you?” she grunts against the side of your neck.

“Yes!”

Those fingers are thrusting inside your sopping wet cunt so hard now the room is filling with debauched squelching sounds.

Your body tenses, every muscle pulled taut. You’re so close.

“Cum for me,” she growls before sinking her teeth into your neck.

All the sexual tension that had been building that day finally releases in a tidal wave of pleasure. Blinding light flashes behind your closed eyes. A string of nonsensical words spill from your mouth. Your walls clench and spasm around her fingers, pushing your release out in a gush that drenches her hand.

“Fuck, sweetheart. That’s it. Let it all out. Such a good girl for me,” Sevika groans into your ear, her fingers pumping into you while you ride out that blissful high.

When your body starts to twitch beneath her, overstimulation setting in at the end of your high, she slows her pace before finally pulling out completely.

You’re startled from your post-orgasmic bliss when you suddenly hear fireworks somewhere in the distance. You turn to glance out the large glass door to see the bright colors lighting up the night sky, then you see the time. 12:00. New Years.

Unbelievable.

You turn back to your wife with a smile as large as you can manage in your fucked out state.

Resting on her forearms and knees, Sevika peers down at you adoringly, her lips pulled into a satisfied grin. Both of you pant, equally out of breath.

All you can manage to think at that moment is how damn lucky you are to have such a wonderful wife. Not just because she’s indescribably good in bed, but also because she’s so fucking sweet. She rented this cute little private cabin for the two of you to spend your honeymoon. Prepacked said cabin with goodies and firewood for the fireplace. She even perfectly time your special moment with the fucking fireworks!

She reaches above you to remove the tie from the headboard and your wrists, and you immediately pull her down for a sweet kiss.

When you release her, she pulls back just far enough to touch the tip of her nose to yours.

You suppose you can forgive her for reneging on your bet. Kinda hard to complain when she fucked you so good AND timed it with the New Year.

“Happy New Year, wife,” you whisper.

She smiles down at you lovingly. “Happy New Year, my perfect wife.”

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #fanfic #honey writes #BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS HOLIDAY SEASON! 😁#Plans got all jacked up so posting earlier than I originally intended

104 notes · View notes

catapparently · 9 days

Text

~The Glass Ballerina's Reputation~

-CHAPTER 2 - Gorgeous

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

Notes: Very bad (in comparison to my usual works) filler chapter but it's necessary

Summary of Ch1: Flashback for poor Avery. She'd always play games with her mom. One day, when her mom was in the hospital, she gave Avery one last game and sent her on a treasure hunt. In the end, Avery only found Libby's phone number. By the time she made it back, her mother had died. Libby moved in with Avery in her little apartment above her mom's old antique shop and helps her co-manage the store. Nash comes in one day to buy a dagger and hits (nicely) on Libby. Avery angwy.

~~~

Nash had been stopping by the antique shop more and more often lately. It was painfully obvious that he was here to see Libby. Avery didn’t like him in the slightest; to her, it seemed like he pitied their situation. Every time he stopped by, he bought one of the pricier items with his fancy card. She wasn’t a fool; she knew exactly what he was trying to do. He didn’t need to step in. They were doing just fine. After Avery had contacted her two years ago, Libby moved into the apartment above the little shop with her. She fell in love with all the antiques, and so, she decided to help her out and co-manage while Avery went to school.

The dainty bell on the door rang. It had been her mother’s pride and joy when it was first installed. The shop had always been her biggest dream ever since she’d been a teenager. Having a bell that rang everytime a customer came in made her mother feel like it was ‘a real shop’. Avery looked up from her history textbook to silently judge whoever had entered the shop this time.

Nash. Again. Of course, but this time he had company. Two boys followed him closely, both taller than him. All three were carrying cardboard boxes. One of them was about an inch shorter than the other one and had pale blonde hair. If her poker face weren’t perfect, she might have laughed at the sight of him in a fancy, stiff suit in the unbearable Texas weather.

She would have if she wasn’t so focused on whatever he was palming in his pocket. The outline of it faintly resembled that of a gun. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

She wasn’t used to feeling fear, completely unfamiliar to that sinking feeling in her chest: the way her heart sped up, her thoughts jumbling and all of her senses hyper aware of everything around her.

She wasn’t stupid. They clearly had money, and she didn’t even need to have seen Nash’s debit card to know it. It was apparent in the way that the three of them dressed and held themselves, looking at everything like they could own it and control it with a snap of their fingers. The gun could only mean one thing; they were criminals of some sort. Gangsters? No, gangsters didn’t have that much money or elegance.

Her throat went dry as she recalled the headlines in the newspaper the other day: ‘Mafia territory wars in Texas’. She knew her gut had been right about this Nash guy. Not good for Libby.

Nash grinned at her and set his box on the counter.

“Hey, kid. We brought you some old, unique stuff that you could definitely sell for a lot.”

“Libby’s not here,” she said, trying to calm herself down. If Nash- or whoever he reported to- wanted her or her sister dead, he would have killed her earlier.

Mafia. Not good. But, if not good, why handsome? His brothers looked like younger versions of those Greek mythology figures in movies.

She shifted uncomfortably. The blonde one was scrutinizing her face intently. She knew she wasn’t model pretty, just average with her ashy brown hair, but did he really need to look at her like something was wrong with her face? His pale grey eyes were honestly breathtaking, but he sure looked scary like this, stoic and unmoving.

The other brother, brown-haired, elbowed him. “Cut it out, Gray.”

Great. One evil-gun-brother identified. ‘Gray’.

Nash cleared his throat. “Oh, yeah, introductions. Sorry, kid. These are my younger brothers, Grayson and Jameson.”

They set their boxes on the counter too, and Nash started pulling out objects he brought and showing them to her. “ This is a really old typewriter, a limited edition. A Hammond 1, 1885. You could sell it for a lot. Then there’s-”

He stopped short, and both he and Grayson turned to look at the other brother who had pulled out a glass princess ballerina from his box.

“Why are you looking at me like that? We don’t have a use for it anymore, and it would cost a lot.”

Avery felt her blood boil in her veins. Damn Nash and his obvious savior complex. She and Libby did not need saving. They were fine just the way they were. So what if they lived in a shitty little apartment and could barely afford the heating? They were alive and weren’t starving. He didn’t need to pity them and play charity.

Jameson flashed a wide smile at her, meeting her eyes with his own striking green ones as he handed her the intricate glasswork. “How about you keep it? I think it suits you rather well.”

Despite her reservations towards them and their intentions, Avery couldn’t help the slight warmth that rose to her cheeks as she took the piece of glass from him. “They’re dangerous, Avery,” she thought. “Bad guys. One of them has a gun.”

Grayson stepped forward; leaning over the counter to stare right into her soul, as though ready to call her out on any dishonesty.

“Say, Miss Grambs, have you ever heard of the name Kaylie Rooney, Morticia Rooney, or Hannah Rooney? Anybody with that last name?” He stared at her, and, even with his emotionless, controlled facade, she could tell that he was suspicious of something, that he definitely had an ulterior motive to ask her that.

Jameson glared at him. “That was my line to ask.”

Avery ignored him. “How did you know my last name?” She frowned, crossing her arms.

“I have my sources. Now answer the question.” Grayson retorted.

“No, I don’t.”

“No secret inheritances? Maybe your mother or grandmother? Relatives?”

She wasn’t going to let this conceited stranger with a gun in his pocket boss her around like this. “My family is hardly any of your concern, and, for the record, my mother- Sarah Grambs- is dead, and I’ve never met any relatives.”

Nash cleared his throat once more, the sound echoing in the silent room. Avery was considering giving him cough syrup as a fuck-off-and-leave-my-sister-alone gift.

“Sorry about him, kid. There’s someone very important to us who’s missing, and we thought you might have seen something in this shadier part of the neighborhood. Grayson is, um, particularly emotional about it.”

Lie. She thought that he’d be a better liar than this. She’d watched so many murdery mystery movies, and the handsome mafia guys always lied flawlessly.

She felt even more insulted now. Not only was he trying to give her and Libby- though mostly Libby- more money by buying random stuff from the store, but now he was insulting their neighborhood, and, by extension, the fact that they couldn’t afford a place in a nicer one. Or Avery was too sensitive. Who knows? She’d become a lot of things in the two years after her mom’s death.

Taking the lead, he ushered his brothers towards the door, a hand placed on each of their shoulders. Just as he was leaving, he spun around, remembering something.

“Oh, but if you ever find out something about someone with the last name Rooney, just ask Libby to give ya my phone number, ‘lright? See ya.”

With that, he walked out, joining his brothers in a sleek black car. Avery stared at them suspiciously through the windows, trying to ignore the fact that Libby was texting Nash, and that Drake would be furious if he ever found out. Jameson slid his hand into his pocket, feeling around for an object. She couldn’t see much from this far, but her eyes caught a metallic glint. A gun? Another weapon? Whatever it was, she was wary of them.

Once they were gone, she closed up the shop for lunch. She went to the room behind the counter and sat on the worn-out couch, pulling out her old phone and typing “Hawthorne Texas” into the search bar. Nothing on Wikipedia or anything else. Finally, she found an article that read “Son of the head of Hawthorne Mafia, Tobias Hawthorne II, dead in fire on Hawthorne Island”. So her suspicions had been right. They were mafia. She scrolled through the article, and a picture of said Tobias II came up. She stared at it, an unsettling feeling churning in her heart. He looked painfully familiar, like an itch in the depths of your brain when you forget something, but you can’t remember what. She was very sure she’d never seen him before. Had she?

30 notes · View notes

tumblingghosts · 23 days

Text

tbosas tributes in a time loop!!

lucy gray lands back in time (on the train ride to the capitol) after being declared victor, she doesn't win the second time, but finds that treech, who had won that time, joins her back in time, and so on...

lucy gray & treech end up allying bc they're the only two who have been through this before, and if there's no set end, then they might as well figure out the limits to this, right?

treech makes sure that lamina wins the next time, and boom! new time traveller joining their crew. so the new plan is to get everyone in the loop. it's a challenge, considering how insane it sounds, but it's not like any of them are going to oppose being victor given the chance

but, what they don't realize until later, is what happens when there is no victor - lucy gray and reaper are the last two in one such loop. the snakes are released, both of them die, with reaper lasting only minutes after lucy gray, the tenth hunger games bears no victors.

upon arriving at the station, coriolanus isn't the only one waiting to greet his tribute. clemensia dovecote is also there, and there's a haunted look in her eyes, almost like she knows how this will end.

---

in which i'm combining a bunch of my most recent obsessions:

aka. reaper & clemensia (bc @meekmedea's fics have opened my mind and gotten me hooked on those two [ao3]), treemina (bc @ylvisruinedmylife has opened my mind to these two background characters and now they are my darlings [ao3]), and tbosas fix its (bc @moreespressoformydepresso writes fantastic tbosas fix its that i adore so much <33 [ao3])

(if you haven't read the above author's fics, GO READ THEM!!! they're amazing!!)

---

here's ch1 of the tributes time loop fic:

welcome to the madhouse

Lucy Gray is the Victor of the Tenth Hunger Games. As she is ushered out of the Arena, she wakes up back on the train to the Capitol. Treech is the Victor of the Tenth Hunger Games. As he is ushered out of the Arena, he wakes up back on the train to the Capitol. Lamina is the Victor of—

In which there is a time loop joined by the Victors of the Games. The Tributes quickly plan to get as many of them part of the loop to plan an escape.

#tbosas #lucy gray baird #tbosas treech #tbosas tributes #clemensia dovecote #tbosas time travellers

30 notes · View notes

acescorazon · 6 months

Text

Title: Buggy's guide to bagging boyfriends

Chapter: 4/?

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2035

Chapter excerpt:

Buggy continues speaking after taking another moment to think of a reply, “It’s like this: I want to get on Crocodile’s good side and I believe that you and Galdino are the best people to help me do that.” He states plain and simple, “I really want to befriend your boss for the sake of Cross Guild, can you help me?”

Daz gives him a rather puzzled look for a moment before his face quickly returns to its normal neutral state. “He likes Bananawanis.” What in god’s name is a Bananawani? Is that a cake or something…? He asks Daz what exactly a Bananawani is and when he elaborates…Buggy’s even more confused.

|Ch1|Ch2|Ch3|

As soon as he can, Buggy gathers up a rather reluctant Daz and Galdino, as well as a few other men, and sets sail, heading towards the nearest town in search of gifts for Buggy’s future best friends. It’ll take them two days, maybe two and a half days to get to their destination, but that’s okay because it gives Buggy plenty of time to plan! Now that he’s alone with two people who probably know Crocodile the best, he wants to question them to get a feel of what kind of gift their beloved boss might possibly want, and maybe, just maybe, if he’s lucky, they’ll also know a thing or two about Mihawk.

He starts with Daz first, and truth be told…Daz is kinda cool and intimidating in his own right, and Buggy wonders if maybe he could be friends with Daz too, but then again, Daz doesn’t seem to like anyone other than Crocodile. Whatever, he can worry about befriending Daz later. He loses track of him after they leave the docks, but quickly finds him in one of the ship’s cabins, keeping to himself like he usually does. Buggy knocks on the door first and once he receives permission to come into the room, he quietly enters, grinning sheepishly, “Hey, there…!” He says, greeting Daz.

Daz nods his head, “Chairman Buggy.” He greets back, getting up and standing in front of Buggy, showing a certain level of respect that Buggy didn’t think that he would receive from one of Crocodile’s men… Then again, this is one of the few interactions that Buggy has had with someone who is more or less considered Crocodile’s right-hand man, so he didn't know what to expect before coming into his room.

Keep it cool, Buggy, you wouldn’t want him to think you’re a dork or anything.

“Daz, I’m not sure if you know why I asked to have you come along on this journey with me or not…” Buggy states, slowly trying to pick out the right words to say in order to make himself look cool and not a loser desperate for friends because if there’s one thing Buggy’s not, it’s a loser desperate for friends… He’s just saying … Wouldn’t it be cool if he had two super c–

Now’s not the time for that.

Daz looks rather uninterested in the conversation. He stares at Buggy blankly, but remains respectful, giving him his full attention… Perhaps this fellow’s face just naturally looks bored though. “I don’t. Boss said that he wanted me to accompany you on this trip, and that’s all I needed to know.” Ah, so loyal! Almost as loyal as Buggy’s own children!

It’s….It’s a giant crocodile…?

Buggy doesn’t know where one would get a giant crocodile, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen a pet store with one of those for sale… They are pets…right? Or are they for eating…? Buggy is utterly confused at the moment, and he asks Daz for further explanation, to which he replies, “They’re pets.” Ah…

“Does he like anything else?” Buggy asks, “Nothing like money though because that’s too easy. I really want to impress him and make it seem like I got him a gift that came right from here.” He says, pointing to his heart.

“No, just Bananawanis, they make very good guard dogs, and the boss likes to feed them and cuddle with them.” But… They’re crocodiles?!

Buggy stares at Daz for a long moment, unsure of how to reply, and Daz…Daz stares back at Buggy, showing that he’s dead serious about this whole Bananawani thing, not that Buggy thought he was joking around to begin with because he’s not exactly the type of person who tells jokes. “Ah, yes…Bananawanis…” Buggy nods, but he doesn’t know what else to say, “And…out of curiosity… where does one acquire such an animal?” he asks after giving the question some thought.

“The black market.”

Buggy should have expected an answer like that because it makes sense when you stop to think about it. A Bananawani doesn’t sound like something you would find on a farm or in a pet store… Buggy has bought a lot of things off the black market, but he’s not quite sure how he feels about buying a giant crocodile off it, or the idea of having one possibly roaming around Emptee Bluffs Island in general. “Boss said he wanted to get a few anyways, so maybe you could get him the first one.” A…A few? As in plural? As in, he wants to have more than one giant crocodile roaming around the island… That sounds… Horrific.

Okay, Bananawanis for Crocodile…But what about Mihawk?

Buggy proceeds to change the subject after that, asking if Daz has any clue what sort of gift Buggy should get for Hawkeye. Daz simply shakes his head in response, “I don’t know Hawkeye very well.” He states, quickly bringing that little conversation to an end.

“Bananawanis…” Buggy mutters in a daze, “Ok, got it…Thanks, Daz.” He says as he heads out of the cabin. He’s a lot more confused now that he’s left than when he originally went in. He doesn’t think that he’s going to get Crocodile…well, a giant crocodile as a pet though because the whole idea sounds strange and terrifying at the same time.

But, what is he going to get him?

Buggy’s going to consider his little talk with Daz a failure, or maybe it wasn’t, maybe he got good advice, but he just can’t use it. He looks around for Galdino next, who is relaxing in the kitchen of the ship, reading a magazine when Buggy enters. Now, Buggy’s always considered Galdino a friend, they’ve been through so much together, but as soon as Cross Guild was formed, Galdino made it known that those feelings weren’t mutual and that he only cared about his beloved boss, Crocodile, which is a shame because Buggy really thought they had a close bond with each other, especially after the war, but maybe he was wrong.

As soon as Galdino spots Buggy, he rolls his eyes in annoyance, and unlike Daz, Galdino doesn’t treat Buggy with even a little bit of respect. “I still don’t get why you insisted that I come on this dumb trip with you,” He says, sighing in frustration, “In fact, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t have even stepped foot on this ship, but the boss asked me for a favor, so what else could I do?” Poor, loyal Galdino, he must be miserable right now with the cruel and cold-hearted Buggy, it’s not like Buggy’s ever treated him like a friend or a member of the family, oh, no. This must be awful for him, look at him suffer while he sits around, lounging.

Buggy has a seat at the kitchen table with him, and sighs as well, “Look, I wanted you to come on this trip with me because I want to get closer to Crocodile, and I need your help doing that.”

“And why would I help you?”

“I’ll say you helped me pick his gift out, and you’ll be on good terms with Crocodile too.”

“Deal.”

Damn, it didn’t take much to convince him, did it? Buggy thinks as he watches Galdino drum his fingers against the kitchen table, seemingly lost in thought. A moment later he gasps softly, “You could get him a new suit, and, oh, wouldn’t it be lovely if you could get your hands on the imported cigars he smokes?!” Okay, now this sounds like a better lead than the whole Bananawani thing, but honestly, it feels kind of boring and predictable, doesn’t it? He’s sure that Crocodile has plenty of suits, and as for cigars, he doesn’t seem to have a shortage of them either. In fact, Buggy’s pretty sure that Crocodile just had some shipped to the island not too long ago. “ I even know his measurements!” Galdino proudly proclaims, “So, if you want to buy him a suit, we can do just that!” Why does he have that information at his disposal? Has he bought Crocodile a suit before or…?

Buggy gives the idea some consideration, but it doesn’t seem good enough. He doesn’t think those things will get him on Crocodile’s good side, but he’s still not sure what will right now. He’ll just have to think of something else later. “Okay, any suggestions for a gift for Mihawk?” Buggy asks a moment later, Daz might not know anything about Mihawk, but maybe Galdino does.

Galdino takes another long moment to think about Buggy’s question. He gasps and then looks like he’s about to say something, but then shakes his head before going back to thinking about the question again. Jeez, Hawkeye really is a hard guy to buy for, isn’t he? “Oh!” Galdino exclaims excitedly, “Oh, I know. Hawkeye likes to garden.” He does? “So I suggest getting him a beautiful plant, one that’s just as bold and striking as Sir Hawkeye is!” Sir Hawkeye…???

Buggy narrows his eyes at Galdino, unsure if what Galdino is telling him is the truth or if it’s gossip or a joke. He isn’t buying into the idea that the world’s strongest swordsman is into plants, he’s way too cool for something like flowers and stuff. “How do you know he likes to garden?” Buggy asks, suspicious now.

“You haven’t seen his garden on the island?” Galdino asks with a scoff, “Everyone knows about it.” Uh, no… Buggy hasn’t seen Mihawk’s garden, he doesn’t even know where you would put one on Emptee Bluffs Island or if it’s even the right place to grow things…Regardless though, Buggy puts on an act, scoffing right back at Galdino, “Of course, I know about his garden, who do you think helped him plant all his flowers?”

“He grows vegetables.”

“Same shit. Anyways, my point is, how do you know he would even want another plant to take care of?”

Galdino once again scoffs at Buggy, like Buggy is a fool who knows absolutely nothing! Which is true, but how dare he call Buggy out on his ignorance! He’s the chairman of Cross Guild, and if… if Buggy wanted to, he could have Galdino punished for his disrespect…he won’t, for reasons, but just know he could. “Obviously Sir Hawkeye gardens as a means to relax, and I often see him roaming around the island, looking at all the plants with great interest. So, I think he would love a new plant.”

All Buggy’s getting from this is Galdino is nosey as shit.

Buggy really doesn’t want to get Mihawk a plant. That sounds so lame, who gives people plants as gifts?! Buggy is the future king of the pirates and if word got out that he was so boring and cheap, he’d never live it down. “Are there any other suggestions you might have?” Buggy asks with a small groan, he really doesn’t want to have to get Mihawk a damn plant.

Galdino frowns, seemingly displeased that Buggy didn’t take his earlier suggestion seriously. “I mean, you could always give him another sword.” Giving the world’s strongest swordsmen a sword? That’s probably the first thing everyone thinks of when it comes to giving Mihawk gifts. Soooo lame. Buggy doesn’t want to be like other people, he wants to be different. “Anything else??” he asks, hoping that a plant and a sword aren’t the best options Buggy’s got.

“Perhaps a book? He does seem like a bit of a bookworm.”

Ugh. Borinngggggg.

#one piece #cross guild #buggy's guide to bagging boyfriends #my writing #i usually use the english translation for things but i refuse to call bananawanis banana gators #ajsdlasjdalsdj dont ask why i draw the line THERE

44 notes · View notes

purple-obsidian · 1 month

Text

voiceless

ch1: where we're at (prologue) tags: reader x bruce wayne, reader x j'onn j'onzz, past reader x dick grayson warnings: major character death, major character injury, this is just the intro but rest of the story gets pretty dark. See ao3 for full tags, but please dni if you are under 18. a/n: reader is female, uses she/her pronouns, meta, and a member of the JLA. this is the prologue, I am still editing the rest of the story. unsure if I will post the whole work here or keep it on ao3. set after the Justice League Dark: Apokolips War dc animated movie. I highly recommend watching it if you haven't, but you can read through the plot here.

Accept the things you cannot change, have the courage to change the things you can, and have the wisdom to know the difference...

When Damian told you, you couldn’t believe the news.

“Lazarus pit?” You had asked, voice shaking and body trembling, freshly broke of Darkseid's brainwashing. “So, he’s alive? He’s okay?”

The hope in your voice wasn’t mirrored by the hardened, harsh voice of your boyfriends little brother, whos not as little as he was since you last saw him.

“His body is functioning. But he isn’t Dick anymore. Don’t get your hopes up.”

He was right. When you finally returned to earth and the saw what had become of your lover in the two years you were serving Darkseid, your heart shattered into a million pieces.

To say he wasn't himself was an understatement. Reduced to a feral animal, incapable of conversation or even speaking real words. He was a man crazed, yelling and growling at anyone who got too close. The Lazarus pit restored his body, but his mind was still lost. Damien looked after him dutifully since bathing his brothers body in the green waters, kept him fed and clean. But there was no relationship between them, at least, nothing beyond that of a pet and its master.

After Barry disappeared into the speed force, you and the surviving members of the league/titans made what’s left of Titan tower your new base. That was three month ago. You’ve worked tirelessly with Clark, Diana, Bruce, and the others to try and mend the broken world left over from Darkseid's destruction. And when you weren’t rescuing refugees or searching the ocean for surviving Atlanteans, you found yourself by Dicks side, in his holding cell, caring for him and singing to him to help him stay calm.

Your voice had been weaponized by Darkseid. Your ability to compel others with a simple vibration of your vocal cords was an ability the new god was very interested in. After you were finally overtaken by his forces, he took you in and installed an amplifying device in your neck to increase the potency of your mesmerizing song, but only after brainwashing you himself, first. To control you was to control the others, and to your horror, he used you like a puppetmaster.

You watched one by one as him and his slaves brought in the body parts of your friends and loved ones, rebuilding them and putting them back together with his alien tech. The paradooms really did a number on them. But each of them were reborn in Darkseid's image. You’re lucky, you only have a chunk of the alien tech in your neck.

Queen Mera, J’onn, Carter, Starfire, and Diana weren’t as lucky.

They were forged back together and reprogrammed, with your help, to be Darkseids soldiers, protecting Apokolips from anyone who dares to threaten the authority of the New God.

You and Bruce were given different roles, serving the your master more closely and given more freedom of choice, in the context of your responsibilities. Not mindless drones, but faithful acolytes, tasked with serving him and ensuring his foothold on the universe.

But the horror and trauma of what you all experienced on Apokolips seems to be pushed from your mind and replaced with a deeper grief whenever you sit next to what's left of your lover, in the basement of Titan tower, watching him thrash and yell, throwing his food and crying out like a madman.

Damian has fed him well enough that his body is still strong. He still looks like Dick, except for his eyes. The pit turned his gorgeous, ocean blue eyes into a depraved yellow.

Oh, how you long to see those blue eyes again.

You never pictured the future to be like this. Dick had talked about the two of you getting married, having a kid. Settling down eventually, being a family. All plans for a future that’s no longer possible, in a world that no longer exists. You grieve the loss of your love. Damian grieves his brother. Clark and the others grieve their friend and leader. Bruce is grieving too, although he doesn’t show it like the rest. He’s visited Dick several times. But he never stays long. You imagine it’s hard for him, to see his eldest son, his first robin, now nothing more than a beast who tries to bite and attack anyone who comes near.

Bruce has been somewhat of a recluse between missions, letting himself disappear in the maze of the towers halls. He’s done a lot of work repairing the tower’s electrical grid and solar panels. You suppose that’s his way of coping, of helping. He spent so much time repairing the reactor on Apokolips for Darkseid, you guess this is his way of trying to make up for the damage he caused.

Everyone grieves differently. And it isn’t just the loss of Nightwing that’s the source of everyone’s grief. You all lost friends, family, people you cared for.

Victor. Lois. Zatanna. Etrigan. King Arthur. Garfield. Wally. Connor. Roy. Donna.

Gone. All of them. Titans and gods. Friends and loved ones.

Taken from you too soon, by Darkseid and his paradooms.

The world is grieving too. Billions of lives have been lost. The human race is facing the eminent threat of extinction, and what’s left of earths protectors now band together to try and put back the pieces of this broken world to save the precious life that’s left.

What else can you do, other than your best? You have to try. And when the weight of this harsh reality gets to be too much, you lean on each other, and pray that Barry is somehow able to help erase the atrocity that's marred this reality.

⌜read more on ao3⌟

20 notes · View notes

aquarium-ina-bag · 1 year

Text

Where Danger Finds Me, it Follows with Tides - 1

Plot: Egyptian reader finds themselves yearning for the attention of Wednesday

Thrown into War ch1

Word count: 2k

Warnings: blood, bit of violence

After a grueling week of listening to the groaning spewing out of a loud werewolf’s mouth and the sounds of boxes being unpacked, broken down, then thrown out from across the shared dorm, Wednesday was finally able to get some sort of thought down on her typewriter.

This was the week before a new prison sentence that was covered up by a ‘fun’ thing called education, but last year was more of a thrill than any of her other school years. Getting kidnapped, fighting evil forces, beating up an ex-teacher, sending an ex to jail, and learning to be more affectionate to people she cared about—the thought made Wednesday’s zygomaticus major muscle twitch. Quickly brushing it off, Wednesday had one more hour before her sentence started. The schedule wasn’t too different from last year's, but the people were. Wednesday was involuntarily filled with facts about who was in her new classes there, statuses, drama, and abilities by none other than Enid.

Wednesday had gotten everything ready for herself; now it was time to get this beast across from her to cooperate. The black-haired girl could wake her roommate up in the most abrupt way possible, but that was mostly the last thing Enid needed right now. The wolf’s growling and grinding in her deep sleep were more intense than usual; clearly, she was on edge. Wednesday hadn’t had a clue how to wake someone up in a thoughtful way, so the second best choice was her second favorite right hand.

The extra hand in the room crawled and climbed its way up to Enid, and started to shake the girl gently. A low, loud groan bounced off the ancient walls, and as a result, Thing rattled her harder.

"AM I LATE?" Enid threw herself forward, as did Thing.

"No, you’re actually early, for once," the stoic voice replied.

"But you have less than 40 minutes to get ready."

And with that, the 40-minute race began. Enid was able to get ready and look good in 35 minutes and 5 seconds, almost bumping her third record down. They were able to use the extra 4 minutes and 55 seconds to get down to the quad to be the first to get breakfast. After the bell rang, people started rolling in. The only people the pair cared about were Yoko, Divina, Kent, Ajax, Eugene, and Bianca.

"I’m not ready for this at all; I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I know I did this last year, but I’m just not ready." Kent rambled out his anxieties.

"I know! I think I’m just excited about the new kids and teachers; I want to see who they replaced for Ms. Thornhill." Ajax continued the flow of conversation.

"Wasn’t her name Laura or something along those lines?" Bianca questioned.

"Laurel" Wednesday corrected

"Right, right, Wednesday you have fencing for first period right?" Bianca asked the goth girl, and she nodded in return.

"I sure hope you learned how to beat me during the break" Bianca chuckled.

"Believe me, I have."

"You guys have fencing together again?! Dang it! I loved seeing you guys argue about who should have gotten the point!" Yoko complained.

"Divina and I have them; I’ll make sure to fill you in," Enid commented to console the vampire.

Wednesday rolled her eyes and removed herself from the table to put her tray away; in doing so, the bell rang for the first period. The four with fencing walked in a group to the studio. Classic coach Vlad was there to greet the aspiring fighters again.

"Welcome back, you four. I'm glad to see you back again. If you want a refresher on how to battle, I will be setting up a tutorial for the new students; if not, get your gear on and go do practice matches." The coach shared.

Bianca nudged Wednesday jokingly, the shorter girl grumbled and continued to walk to her black uniform and mask that were placed during prep week. They all quickly changed and started matches as the coach reprimanded the newbies for their stances. The doors opened for a latecomer.. History repeats itself. That snarky grin flashed the room, the Ra’s eye marking on your right eye was as gold as the morning sun, and the scent of euphoric blue lotus followed when you walked past people.

"Vlad! Nice to see you again!" You called out while continuing to walk closer. Arms lifted up above your head for emphasis.

If Bianca were a werewolf, her ear would have twitched. She was so out of focus that Wednesday scored a point on her, yet she didn’t care; she just focused on that voice across the room. Wednesday stared at her, confused.

"Y/n… Don’t you have to be working somewhere?" The older man inquired.

"Yeah, about that, after Weems got hurt from the poisoning, the board wanted a background check on the admin here. A 16-year-old was definitely not someone they wanted working as staff; I guess they didn’t like my records. But! I still have perks; I just have to be an actual student, which is useless for me." You Informed.

"Thank you for saving Weems again. I’m guessing you’re my student then."

"Hey, what’s a scorpion for?" but yes, sir, I am!" You said it excitedly.

"I saw your old mask on the rack; it must have slipped my mind," Vlad mumbled.

Bianca continued to listen, she took off her mask to get a better look at who was speaking. Wednesday assessed the siren's facial features, which showed clear indications of fear, panic, and nervousness. Wednesday worried slightly for her friend, who was this person who had her opponent more scared than when she threatened Bianca? As if it were on queue you looked over to the pair for a split second, then to the equipment rack, eyes landing on the two. You walked past them with haste to get changed, Bianca was definitely on edge when they started up again; she could barely even get into the proper stance.

Once you changed, you planted yourself on the bench between the coach and the pair fighting, watching like an animal looking for its next prey. You mumbled something to Vlad, and Bianca was thrown off again. Of course, you noticed.

"Bianca I can feel and smell the fear off you, geez!" You yelled across the room.

"What the hell are you doing here?! Don’t you have to be scrubbing the halls?" Bianca snapped, throwing her mask on the ground and practically jogging towards you.

"I’m a student now." Returning the attitude

"Hurry up and duel that Addams kid," you commanded.

How did you know Wednesday's name?" the raven-haired girl questioned privately. Surely you’ve never met each other; clearly, you have tension with Bianca, so her friends wouldn’t have talked to you. Who are you?

"I’m not going to listen to you, L/N. Clearly, you lost your status." Bianca huffed up

Vlad has now stepped in "Ms. Barclay, it won’t hurt to do one duel, plus I want to see you two's improvement."

"Thank you, coach," you gleamed.

Bianca grumbled and went back to her spot, picking up the mask as well. The two got back into their stances. Bianca seemed more professional, dead set on winning, but a part of her was still nervous. Wednesday and Bianca bowed and were off, continuing to parry and attempt blows at each other until she could strike out Wednesday. Each. Consecutive. Time. It irked the raven girl. Drawing her out of thought, you spoke.

"Addams. Duel me."

"What?! I beat her each time, though! Duel me!" Bianca cried out

"You’re not focused on her at all; I don’t want to fight someone who has no thought of trying to improve." Your voice was gloomy and almost sounded bored with the conversation.

"I have! You haven’t been here to know that!" She protested

"If you improved, you would have seen me try and beat me."

Bianca shut her mouth, moved over to the bench, and practically threw herself down. You finally got up and put on that custom mask of yours, it had a small streak of red going down the right eye area. Wednesday studied everything she could about you, once you were face-to-face with her, she could finally get the height of you and your physique. She had to look up to look you dead in the eyes.

"I like you. You’re focused, and you try to understand everything you can before launching yourself into a battle. I like it, that’s why I wish to fight you." You smiled down at her.

Before she could say anything, you got into placement and waited for her to do so. Once she got into her comfortable stance, the raven girl gathered information on your stance; clearly, you know what you’re doing. After the bow of respect, you two slowly approached each other, Wednesday attempted a strike, but was completely shut down with ease.

Interesting

You threw out a lazy strike, even that almost hit her. She tried two quick blows, but again, she shut down. What confused her was the fact that your block almost seemed to be there before she could even perform the move.

Could you read minds?

No, this doesn’t look like it, she’s seen mind readers, and this isn’t it. But that stupid smile was plastered on your face; it messed with her nerves a bit.

The pace quickens, and you shoot somewhat lazy shots. She strikes fast, just to be shot down again and again, It felt like hours, but really it was less than 2 minutes. Finally, you put what seems to be your all into this. The speed quickened, as did the eyes watching you two. She almost couldn’t keep up, this was too fast for her. You’re making the raven sweat. An opening for you, you shot like a snake.. no like a scorpion? Round one was finished, and you took the lead.

"Point for L/n!" Vlad exclaimed.

"Whatcha thinking, Addams?" You questioned.

"I want," she hesitated, "no mask, no tips. First blood." A Wednesday classic

"Deal!" You were excited— something realistic. Throwing off the mask, that stupid smile was still on your face.

Wednesday and you fixed your blades and got back to bowing, then the stance, and you were off. The pace picked up from where it had dropped, she was able to keep up more now, so much so that she was able to hit you in the stomach. She was more hopeful now, but she was so hopeful that she completely forgot about the deal she set. First blood. Leave herself open. You went for her jugular, leaving a perfect cut that dripped down a small streak of red on her neck.

"Point L/n." The coach yelled out.

"Y'know, Addams, I had padding on there, realistically, if we’re in an actual duel out at random, I wouldn’t have padding on." You explained.

"Take it off then." She quickly blurted

"Hm. Alright then!"

With haste, you quickly took off the top padding. This was very much illegal in the rule book, but who cares? This was getting interesting, and Wednesday followed suit. There was your school's white button-up under it. Once you got situated, the deal was still on, and the regular steps occurred. The two of you were faster than before, but it was fast for you to land a blow just on her chest. She completely paused, and blood leaked right above where her heartbeat was. A rapid flow of blood stained the button-up; her heartbeat was racing; she was definitely overworked, but this was different, she enjoyed this duel, of course, not the loss but this. Wednesday couldn’t explain why it was frustrating her.

"You’re terrific Wednesday. I hope I can duel you later again, but I must go." You explained.

Picking up your stuff and putting it back into its respectable spots, Wednesday watched a little confused as you left abruptly. She looked around for a second, watching everyone go back to practicing. The raven-haired girl went to check on her cuts, but they were completely gone—not a stain, not a scar, just a tiny hole in her shirt.

Huh?

#Wednesday Addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader

110 notes · View notes

goodomensafterdark · 3 months

Text

Writer's Guild Presents: His Partner's Mark (ch2)

Written by Niknak90 on Reddit for the GOAD subreddit!

In which Crowley gets fucked while wearing the turtleneck like he deserves (and Aziraphale leaves his mark on it). Also featuring Crowley getting yanked around in the necktie.

CW/TW/Tags-light D/S dynamics, dom Aziraphale/sub Crowley, top Aziraphale/bottom Crowley, come marking, genital switching (Crowley starts with penis, ends with vulva), blow jobs, anal sex, cunnilingus, PIV, butt plugs

Summary- Crowley and Aziraphale are officially together after the world doesn't end, but Aziraphale is still having trouble acknowledging it in public. After fighting about this, they go to the pub. An encounter with a carpet salesman forces Aziraphale to claim his demon in public. Said demon's enticing outfit inspires him to mark him in other ways behind closed doors.

Ch1-no smut, could honestly be a T-rated oneshot on its own, Ch2 is almost pure smut.

Ch2 Excerpt

Once they returned to the shop, Aziraphale locked the door and shut the curtains. Then he pressed Crowley against the door and kissed him, apparently forgetting his own rule.

“Someone’s impatient. Didn’t even give me a chance to take my glasses off.” Crowley said with a smirk. Normally, Aziraphale refused to kiss him with the glasses on, as he didn’t like it putting a barrier between them. As a result, Crowley almost never wore glasses past the entryway. He wanted as few barriers to being kissed and touched as possible. He wouldn’t even bother with clothes half the time if Aziraphale didn’t insist he wear something.

“We waited for centuries. I’d say that’s patience enough, wouldn’t you?” Aziraphale ran his hands down the soft turtleneck. Crowley melted into the touch. They’d only had this relationship for a few years in their long history together, so it all still felt so new. Would he get used to this after decades, centuries? Get bored by it, crave something new as humans tended to do? It seemed unimaginable.

Right now, he was the very opposite of bored as Aziraphale slipped one hand around his waist and pulled him in by the necktie for another kiss. “Now, are you ready to learn what sort of ideas this fetching ensemble has inspired, dear?”

“Somehow, I didn’t think strangling me with my own necktie was one of them.”

“If I strangled you out here, I couldn’t take you in the back room, which would be a shame. Would you like to join me there, dear?”

“Yessss, pleasssse.” He had gone there many times by now, had hoped that dressing up for his angel would lead to precisely this.

He hadn’t expected to enjoy submitting so much when Aziraphale first suggested it; in his encounters with mortals before they’d gotten together, he’d always needed to be the one in control. But there was something about letting his angel make the decisions, trusting that he would get exactly what he needed. Today, he craved the reassurance that his angel wanted him, needed him as badly as he needed Aziraphale.

“Excellent. Glasses off first, then come with me.” Crowley set his glasses on the horse statue, then let Aziraphale grab his necktie and lead him to the back room. It should be humiliating, far beneath a demon to be led around like an angel’s pet. It was, a little, but also arousing. And who would object to being led into Paradise?

Read more on AO3!

#good omens after dark #goad #good omens #good omens fanfic #writers of after dark

24 notes · View notes

fadingreveries · 3 months

Text

The Royal Romance, Bk1 Ch1: Once Upon a Time (Pt. 1)

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: I couldn't tag everyone because it wouldn't let me, but turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek (thanks for showing interest! Thought I would tag to say thank you!)

Story Summary: In this novel-style retelling of TRR, beloved scenes with original commentary from the Choices stories including your favourite group of royals and friends will be expanded upon. Contains extended commentary and scenes from the original story, in-depth descriptions of bonus scenes, and premium choices and outfits.

Chapter Synopsis: Love awaits in the royal court of Cordonia as Riley competes for the Crown Prince! Will she accept his proposal, or will someone else win her heart?

Disclaimer: All rights to original commentary, scenes, and characters from The Royal Romance series reserved to Choices and Pixelberry Studios. No copyright infringement intended.

Word Count: 1.6k

~ ~ ~

Those who found love with the right person, in the right place, at the right time, and the right life destined for them were rare. With how unpredictable life may be, not everyone was lucky to be destined with all of the key factors that would culminate for the biggest blessing from life itself.

One night’s chance encounter changed the lives of people who would become a close-knit group of friends in more ways than one.

Once upon a time, Riley Brooks was a young lady who resided in New York City. She was a fair-skinned, beautiful lady with dark ebony tresses and Dutch-braided bangs. With soft doe-like eyes and peach-coloured lips, Riley had met her fair share of suitors but none with whom she felt a longing connection to.

After working as a part-time waitress to put herself through school, she had finally graduated with an undergraduate degree and a Master of Arts degree in history from the prestigious New York University. At last, she was ready to explore the world beyond lecture halls, late night study sessions, and thesis dissertations.

“Just another glamorous New York Saturday night of hauling trash to the dumpster.” Riley sighed, heaving a stuffed black bag up where it would join the other garbage that had been piling up that night.

At the current moment, however, she was stuck on a late-night shift at the restaurant and bar where she had worked for the last six years. With all her might, she hoisted the humongous black garbage bag which landed on the others with a soft thump. She dusted off her hands, looking warily over her shoulder with the barely lit back area of the brick building.

There was something about the back alley of the building where she threw out the garbage every night that made her uneasy, partly due to the fact that drunk party goers tended to loiter there in the dark when veering off course from the streets and sidewalks. Luckily for her, she had her favourite coworker, Daniel, by her side to help.

“It could be worse. There could be—” Daniel, her co-worker had started before letting out a frightened yelp and darting away from the dumpster, “Rats! Riley, help!”

Riley glanced down at the sight before her, taking note of two adult mice and two baby mice. As they scurried away, she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable mouse family. They’re trying to get by, just like us.”

“Hey!” A booming voice yelled out, making the two co-workers turn around. “Riley, Daniel, quit slacking off over there!”

If there was one thing Riley was ready to embrace, it was the fact that she had finally given her two-week notice to her boss. After six years, she would finally be out of his clutches and no longer have to hear constant nagging from him about every minuscule detail she had made the mistake of carrying out in front of him.

“You told us to take out the garbage,” Riley reminded him, a scowl deepening as she remembered how insufferable her boss was.

“And now I’m telling you to wait on the bachelor party that just rolled in. Chop chop!” The manager barked out, clapping his hands for emphasis before storming back inside the bar.

__________

Meanwhile, it was the night of Liam Rys’ bachelor party. Two of his friends plus one acquaintance had organized a clandestine night out in New York City before they returned to Cordonia for the social season.

Earlier that evening, Maxwell whooped out, “Awesome! We finally lost Bastien! I can’t believe we pulled that off, but I’m not going to question it.”

It was around eight o’clock on one Friday night when Liam, Maxwell, and Drake had escaped Liam’s bodyguard, Bastien. There was an outdoor music festival held all day at a nearby park and with all the large crowds, Maxwell and Drake had planned to help Liam escape from his royal duties for at least one night. Which meant losing his bodyguard as soon as possible and blending in with the New York nightlife.

“Knowing Bastien, I’m sure he’s got an eye on us somehow. At least we have the illusion of independence,” Drake commented, knowing that it was better than nothing. He knew if anything that this illusion could give Liam a slight sense of what he truly longed for.

“I’ll take it! Time to whip out the… ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List!” Maxwell excitedly cried out, as he drew a worryingly long physical paper shaped like a bucket out of his pocket.

Blinking in confusion at the paper contraption his friend summoned out of nowhere, Drake remarked, “There were so many parts of what you said that I’d hoped weren’t literal.”

“Okay, here’s what I got…” Maxwell cleared his throat, reading from his paper bucket list. “Give each other crazy nicknames, get tattoos, eat at the best place in New York, have a spontaneous, crazy adventure, get into a fight, and get tattoos!”

“You said ‘get tattoos’ twice,” Drake plainly stated, not impressed by Maxwell’s idea of a bachelor party.

Maxwell rolled his eyes, giving Drake a look that indicated he should have known that the meaning was implied. “That’s how important it is!”

Drake shook his head, looking Maxwell straight in the eye. Never in a million years was he going to agree to tattoos, especially not for Maxwell’s pure amusement. “I’m not getting a tattoo.”

“Friendship tattoos!” Maxwell exclaimed, trying desperately to convince him otherwise. Tattoos were a long-lasting symbol of friendship in itself, right?

Clearly, Maxwell had different ideas on what qualified as fun things to do with your friends in an unfamiliar city. Drake scoffed, “There’s not enough whiskey in Manhattan.”

“We’ll circle back to that,” Maxwell responded, turning his back against Drake and not taking no for an answer. He elbowed Liam’s side with a cheeky smile. “Remember, it’s this guy’s night.”

Liam sheepishly chuckled. How lucky was he to have such thoughtful friends? “It is my night.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head,” Drake warned him, although he had a small smile.

The prince was touched by his best friends’ warm gesture. Not everyone would go out of their way to make his one night of controlled freedom as enjoyable as possible, at least not as much as these two would. It was something he had never been allowed the luxury of, given that he was the Crown Prince of Cordonia and the heir to the throne after his older brother, Leo, had abdicated years earlier.

With a sad frown, Liam confessed, “Actually… It really means a lot to share this moment with both of you. After this summer, everything will change. I’ll be married… I’ll be preparing to start a family and carry on the royal line. It means everything to me to have one last moment with the two of you.”

“I don’t know that you’ve ever had a carefree moment in your life, but we’ll do our best,” Drake softly murmured. He meant this more than Liam would ever know. Drake had seen first-hand the struggles his best friend had gone through growing up with the burden of being royalty, but he wasn’t about to let his last night of freedom before the social season go to waste.

Maxwell nodded, a mischievous smile on his face. “Damn right we will. First up, nicknames.”

“What is this again?” Drake groaned in exasperation. Just when he thought they had made it past his bachelor party antics.

Once again, Maxwell looked at Drake as if the answer was obvious. He declared, “We think of awesome nicknames to give ourselves as a group!”

Drake’s deadpan answer was quick, his blank expression unwavering. “Cool. Mine’s Drake.”

Maxwell pouted, his bottom lip protruding out in protest. “Man, come on. You could pick anything! Alpha Bravo? Dark and Stormy? Toasted Marshmallow?”

“Pass,” Drake answered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Unacceptable! All our nicknames are gonna be in theme! Right, Liam?” Maxwell questioned him, his eyebrows scrunched together in determination. Once Maxwell had an idea, he didn’t plan on giving up. It just wasn’t the Beaumont way.

Liam chuckled, amused at Maxwell’s enthusiasm to make his bachelor party much more lively. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we could theme it after cards like King of Hearts or Jack of Spades… or our favourite foods… or… or… like a fairytale!” Maxwell excitedly suggested, his eyes lighting up even brighter with each suggestion.

“Fairytale?” Liam asked, looking for clarification.

Drake guffawed, turning to Liam. “You could be Prince Charming.” It wasn’t far from the plain truth, anyway.

“There you go! Now you’re getting into it!” Maxwell grinned, pleased that Drake was now participating with the same level of gusto as he was.

Drake immediately frowned, not wanting to give off that impression and play into Maxwell’s fantasy of having the perfect bachelor party by his wild standards. “No… I just… ugh, Liam, pick one.”

“We should go with the theme…” Liam pondered with a smile to himself, before answering, “Fairytale. I kind of like Prince Charming.”

“Of course. I'm the Fairy Godmother because whatever you want tonight, I’ll make it happen!” Maxwell stated, his body giddy almost as if you could see the energy bouncing off of him.

Liam gestured to Drake, trying to think of a nickname for him. “What about Drake?”

Maxwell stepped closer to Drake, who rolled his eyes, before he snapped his fingers and announced, “He’s got ‘Dragon’ written all over him.”

“I’m good with that,” Drake agreed, shrugging his shoulders. It wasn’t the worst nickname he could be given.

“Yes! Let’s roll!” Maxwell cheered, happy with how things had worked out. One thing down, five more to go on the ultimate Bachelor Party Bucket List! “Next stop is dinner!”

~ ~ ~

Click here for the TRR retelling series masterlist for more chapters! 🏰

Tag list: Turn off "exclude from Tumblr search" for your account in settings and comment if you’d like to be tagged! @kingliam2019 @princess-geek

30 notes · View notes

celestie0 · 4 months

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.2 terms and conditions

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader (f)

ᰔ chapter. 2/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 4.5k

a/n. if you see any typos, no you don't.

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 :: ch7 :: ch8 :: ch9 :: ch10 (pending)

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

“And yeah, that’s basically what I’ll ask from him in return,” you say through a mouthful of your cereal in the morning after summarizing the conversation you had with your school’s star soccer player on Instagram last night.

Mina scrolled through the messages as she took another bite of her apple and gave you a questioning look as she set your phone down. “I’m still shocked at the fact that Gojo Satoru, the Gojo Satoru, sent you a message. Also, why does he want to help his horny friend this badly?”

“I don’t know. But will you do it?” You ask her with pleading eyes. “Just one weekend, that’s all it seems like he’s asking for. And then I’ll get what I want from him. You just have to pretend to be interested in his friend for a little bit.”

Mina leans back on the bar stool at the little raised counter in the kitchen. You liked it because it was a little bar space that opened up to the living room, being partially the reason why you convinced her to sign this lease with you. She swallowed before speaking. “I mean, the only reason I didn’t really like his friend that much was because he kept asking me out to a house party instead of an actual date.”

“Yeah, I know, I figured,” you say.

“Also, an 8AM English class is the absolute worst time to hit on someone.” She smiles at you. “But his friend isn’t bad looking. Not exactly my type, maybe a bit too beefy and masculine for me? I don’t know.” She pauses to take another bite of her apple, this time talking through her chewing. “I would say Gojo is more my type.”

He’s probably everyone’s type, you think to yourself.

“Anyways, yeah, I’ll do it,” she easily agrees.

“You will?” You gleam at her, your hands clapping together in happiness.

“Yeah, I will. If you think it’ll help you get what you want from him, then I’ll do it,” she smiles at you.

You run over to her, arms curling around her from behind as you say thank you, thank you, thank you and she pats at your forearm for you to ease up on your excessive gratefulness.

-------

The weekend rolls around surprisingly fast and the hour that the party’s doors open is steadily approaching. Mina just came home from her work shift and was in the bathroom taking a shower while you sifted through your closet to figure out what to wear. You couldn’t believe you were actually going to an SAE house party. You’ve been to other college parties before, mostly in your first year, but never a fraternity’s, let alone the biggest one on your college campus. Was there some sort of waiting list? Some sort of etiquette that you didn’t know of? Your stomach flips at the prospect.

Your hands pull out a simple black dress that was tucked all the way to the right of your closet. It was a tiny bit wrinkled but it would do. Slipping on the dress, you turned to glance at yourself in the mirror. It had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the hem fell to the middle of your thighs, the material soft and silky. You suddenly felt a bit self conscious and ended up taking it off in favor of some ripped blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt instead.

Mina opened the door of the bathroom and stepped into your shared room, wrapped in a towel with her hair clipped up on her head. “Cute fit,” she compliments you as she also makes her way to her closet. “Ugh, I just want to go to bed. Why am I doing this again?”

“Because you love me,” you say.

“Yes, that’s why,” she sighs. She puts on a purple body-con dress that had beautiful sparkles on it, probably more fitting for the club than a house party, but who knows, maybe that ends up being the vibe of the place.

You both sit on the floor in front of the mirror to do makeup, you finishing first since you wore a little less than her, and you help her draw the wings of her eyeliner. This sort of ritual was always the best before you went out with friends. The getting ready part was almost more fun than the actual going out part.

A small fight took place between the two of you in terms of who would be designated driver, and Mina finally relents to allowing you to drive. You argued with her that she was doing you a favor, and that if Mina decides she needed some drinks during the night to take the edge off of having to talk to this Gojo Satoru friend, then she should be allowed to do that. Mina grabbed her purse and you grabbed your cross-body fanny pack as well as keys, and you were headed out the door.

As you drove down the street approaching the address, you both noticed a lot of the houses looked very similar with decorative sports flags, gaudy front-lawn decorations, and outside furniture. This was most likely the fraternity house strip of SAE where most of the guys lived and hosted parties. There were living places on campus for the members too, but those were usually for the people that organized the fraternity’s events. Loud approaching bass-boosted music filled the air and it suddenly became challenging navigating through all of the parked cars on the street as the GPS informed you that you were less than 500 feet from your location on the left. You luckily found a spot to park at the cul de sac a little further ahead and then you two were making your way to the house.

“4100, right?” Mina called after you as she shuffled a bit in her heels to catch up, arms crossing over her chest to warm herself up in the cold. You slowed down a bit for her.

“Yeah, this one I guess,” you point up ahead where you spot a group of people approaching the entrance where a guy seemed to be collecting payments. You notice him turn some people away from the door, confirming that there was some sort of screening process for entry, and you’re suddenly a bit anxious.

“Alright, y’all are good to go inside,” the guy at the door chirps to what’s left of the group that lined up before you two. He makes eye contact with you and Mina, straightening himself up a bit. “Ladies! Looking very gorgeous. I like the sort of casual tomboy with the bombshell friend pairing. Can’t say I’ve seen you two around here. Ever been to an SAE party before?”

“Nah, first time,” Mina says as she shivers from the cold.

“Aight, cool, you’ll definitely enjoy it. Ladies enter for free, so go on ahead,” he says, comically gesturing towards the door with both of his arms before he crosses them again and puffs out his chest. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. He has a little name tag that says Itadori Yuuji on it, which you’re almost certain no one even asked him to wear.

As you two make your way inside, you’re instantly reminded of why you hated places like this. Loud music reverberates throughout the entire room as people bustle around everywhere, some people dancing, some people standing, some people walking over to other areas, and a lot of people shamelessly making out. There was a lot more lighting than you were expecting, that sort of warm and dull suburban house lighting that reminds you of your childhood for some reason, but there were flashing lights across the ceiling that gave it more of a party feel. The house was two stories, and the staircase was visible from the entrance, leading up to a hallway at the top with a railing that oversaw the downstairs expanse before stretching out further into unseen territory where you assumed the bedrooms were. Your eyes instantly began scanning the room for any familiar faces, or for one Gojo Satoru.

“Damn, just the smell of the alcohol alone has me about ready to throw up,” Mina says next to you as she takes a few steps further into the house. You follow behind her as she makes her way into what looks like the kitchen where there’s less people other than those refilling their drinks. She’s quick to pour some vodka into a plastic red solo cup before nonchalantly opening the fridge and pouring some orange juice into it as well. She glances up at you. “Don’t judge me.” You stifle a laugh.

“Oh shit, sorry man,” a masculine voice behind you says and when you turn around, you’re face to face with quite possibly the most handsome man you’ve ever seen in your life.

In all his glory, Gojo Satoru was standing in front of you. Just as the prophecy foretold, he was tall, at least an entire head above you, and irritatingly gorgeous. He was wearing gray sweatpants, untied drawstrings loosely hanging, with a black short-sleeved shirt that was tight around his biceps and lazily tucked into his waistband just at the front. He was holding two drinks in his hands, one clearly with some spillage as droplets fell from the base of it onto the tile of the kitchen, and his piercing blue eyes behind his tacky HO-HO party glasses widened at the sight of you. The guy behind him, who you assumed was the one he was apologizing to just a second ago, gave him a solid slap on the back and muttered a you’re good, dude before turning the corner back into the core of the party, leaving the three of you alone in the kitchen.

You heard Mina cough a little behind you and you watched as Gojo’s eyes quickly darted to her.

“No way,” you hear Gojo mutter under his breath as he walks past you and makes his way around the kitchen island, setting the drinks in his hand down on the counter. “You’re Mina, right? I’m Gojo Satoru,” he says as if not everyone on campus knows who he is, and sticks his hand out for her to shake and she hesitantly shakes it. “Thanks for coming.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mina said, shooting you a glance.

He then turns around and makes his way to you again, hand outstretched for you to shake, and you hesitantly do so as well. You immediately notice how the tips of his fingers feel calloused. “Hey, I’m Gojo Satoru. You’re y/n, right?”

You nodded, for some reason unable to find your voice, and he peers over the ‘O’s on his glasses to look at you. His eyes were like the sparkling ocean under the sun, a tantalizing shade that sailors probably yearned for during long nights out at sea before they went overboard, chasing after sirens, and eventually drowning. Yikes, that got dark for some reason. But there was something dark about his eyes, too. “Yeah.”

He leans down closer to you, his mouth near your ear, and the fragrance of freshly-washed laundry consumes you. “Thanks, I owe you one. Find me later, ‘kay?” he whispers and you can feel his breath on your neck. The movement has your cheeks embarrassingly burning before he’s pulling away from you. He turns to Mina again. “You’ve met my friend Todo, right? He’s about sixty ounces deep into an insane round of beer pong, you wanna watch?” Gojo asks her with a weirdly wholesome smile on his face.

“How charming…” Mina says as she reluctantly walks over to him, giving you a darting look, and then he’s leading her out into the living room. You stand there in the kitchen, leaning against the island, finally noticing how fast your heart was beating.

I mean, you knew he would be handsome. You saw all his Instagram pictures, and all the school advertising for the soccer team with his face all over it plastered practically around every corner on campus, but this was your first time seeing him in person and you hated how breathtaking he was. Like, how can people just casually be in his presence? You figured the only way was that they eventually get used to the way he just commands a room when he walks in. You wonder if you’ll ever feel relaxed in his vicinity. Part of you wishes you didn’t fight Mina so hard to be designated driver because now you were itching for a drink to calm your nerves.

As a group of girls make their way into the kitchen, giggling about something some guy had said to one of them, you suddenly feel a little alone and make your way out into the living room as well. Your hands play with the strap of the fanny pack slung across your chest and just people-watch for a bit. Spotting the game of beer pong over in the corner, you see Mina watching with a bored expression and you let out a small laugh. The man at the end of the table had a ping pong ball in his hand, and you immediately identified him as this Todo guy. Mina’s description was pretty spot on, definitely beefy and masculine, and he was the only one in that corner that had his shirt off for some reason.

He aimed for the opposing side’s remaining two cups of beer, the ball looking comically tiny in his large hand, and when he threw it the ball landed right in one of the cups. A look of excitement flashed across his face before a bunch of the guys started smacking his chest, yelling something like “has to be a bounce shot, dude” and he suddenly looked agitated all over again. A small smile makes its way on Mina’s face and you’re surprised to see it.

Standing next to her was Gojo, tall and his presence imposing, as he silently watched the rowdy game with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and back leaned against the wall. There was a curious expression on his face and you tilted your head to the side, enjoying the moment to just study him for a little bit.

“I like your fanny pack,” you hear a voice say from behind you that has you twirling around. You look up and find yourself staring at yet another handsome man. This one had dark black hair that was tied up into a man bun with some short tendrils of hair falling onto one side of his forehead.

“Oh, thanks,” you say awkwardly.

“Where are my manners? I’m Geto Suguru, nice to meet you,” he says as he stretches the hand that was not occupied by his drink out to you.

You shook his hand, noticing calluses on his fingers too. “Nice to meet you, too. I’m y/n. What’s with everyone here and shaking hands? I feel like I’m at a job interview.”

The man in front of you chuckles. “You’re funny,” he says. “Haven’t seen you around here. Which sorority are you in?”

“Oh, uh, I’m not in one. I live with my friend Mina about 20 minutes from campus,” you awkwardly say.

A slightly surprised expression flashes across his face as he nods slowly and you can see it in his face that he’s searching his brain for a follow-up question when someone behind him taps his shoulder.

“Hey, Suguru, do you know what time practice is tomorrow? Itadori-kun swears it’s at three, but I have a meeting at that time, so if that’s true then I’m screwed,” the guy behind Geto says. Sigh. Once again handsome. He was tall, had broad shoulders, and cleanly styled blonde hair with a sharp jaw that made him look like he just stepped out of a James Bond movie.

“Pretty sure it’s at six. I’d check with Satoru, though,” he jutted his chin over in the direction of the beer pong table. “Oh, this is y/n by the way. She’s not in a sorority, but she lives 10 minutes away from campus.” Geto steps to the side a little and the blonde stranger steps into his space.

“20 minutes,” you correct him and this time, you’re the one to stretch your hand out. The man in front of you shakes it, and once again you notice calluses. This must have to do with soccer, then. His handshake was firm, short, and intentional, and you could tell he was probably studying a respectable major.

“I’m Nanami Kento, but just call me Kento,” he says in a smooth voice. “Excuse me,” he says and he’s making his way past you over to the beer pong table.

Geto’s glance falls on you again, but suddenly feeling awkward you excuse yourself from him to go use the restroom. You haven’t had this much social interaction in a long time and you needed to get away from the noise for a second. As you make your way past the kitchen into a narrow hallway, you realize you have no idea where the restroom is. One of the door handles has a sock on it, gross, so you ignore it all together. You finally reach a door that could potentially be a restroom, and you’re overjoyed that you don’t hear any voices inside when you knock on it. You allow yourself inside and close the door behind you.

The bathroom was surprisingly well-kept from what you expect of a frat house. There’s about three different toothbrushes in a round plastic tin on the counter of the sink, but you’re sure that there’s more than three guys that live here so there must be another bathroom upstairs too. Glancing at your reflection, you notice that some of your mascara has smudged a little so you use your finger to wipe the excess off and then you reapply a thin layer of lip balm over your lips. You contemplate actually taking a piss, but you realize you don’t really need to. With a few deep breaths, you’re out into the hallway and almost make it back into the kitchen before bumping into a certain white-haired man at the kitchen entrance.

“Oh, hey, fancy seeing you here again,” Gojo says with a grin and your eye twitches slightly. He was still wearing those HO-HO glasses (Christmas was literally over three months ago) and this time there were some sort of black painted lines underneath both of his eyes. He was extremely hot but definitely somewhat unserious about his appearance.

Gojo glances down at your empty hands and tips his head to the side a little. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Uhh, water?” You offer.

He lets out a laugh, his hand flying to his stomach, and you realize he thinks you're joking. When your expression doesn’t budge, his smile drops. “Seriously?”

“I’m DD for Mina,” you say as you walk around him and make it into the kitchen where you find a pitcher of water. Your heart still races a bit at the sight of Gojo, but you enjoy the peace and quiet that the kitchen provides you away from the party around the corner.

“So, y/n,” you hear Gojo say behind you. You’re not quite used to hearing your name casually roll off his tongue. He’s suddenly at your side, leaning back against the edge of the island and crossing his arms as he looks down at you to watch you pour your water. It takes everything in you to not glance over at how nice the muscles of his arms probably look across his chest. “What exactly are those terms and conditions you spoke of?”

Your face flushes slightly. You remind yourself that this is the man that you were Instagram DMing at two in the morning earlier this week. It feels weird, considering at the time he seemed more like a made-up character in your mind but now that you’ve actually met him, you realize that he is indeed a living, breathing, real person. When you take a sip of your water, you realize just how parched you really are.

“Okay, hold on a sec, there’s no way you’re just drinking water all night long. There’s some non-alcoholic punch in the other room. Be right back,” he says and he’s gone from your side. You miss the heat from his body.

He returns shortly after with a cup of punch in his hands and slides it to you across the counter. You grip onto it and stare into the deep red liquid.

“Okay, so,” he says as he leans back against the counter again, this time a bit closer so his arm was brushing against your shoulder. Your skin burns at the contact. “Your terms and conditions?”

You found it a bit odd that he was so adamant to satisfy these conditions of yours, considering he already won. You had successfully brought Mina to the party, and it seemed like she was getting along with his friend Todo. It shouldn’t really matter what you wanted from him anymore. You suppose that maybe he was just a man of his word.

You sigh, remaining facing the counter of the island as you glance at all the types of alcoholic bottles and cans laid out on it. “Well, my request is pretty simple.”

“Hmm,” you hear him hum inquisitively beside you.

You finally turn to face him and you instinctively put a hand over your heart as though to reprimand it to stop beating so fast in his presence. He notices the movement. “I want you to get me onto the soccer field at a few of your practices or games so I can take film photos of the players.”

Gojo takes his HO-HO glasses off and sets them down on the counter, a serious expression on his face. You notice how nice his eyelashes are.

“Your terms and conditions are…that you want me to help you take photos of a bunch of sweaty dudes?” he asks. “You’re kinda freaky.”

You roll your eyes and send him an annoyed look. “They’re not for me, they’re for one of my class assignments. I’m taking this film photography class, and my professor is obsessed with the school’s soccer team. Pretty much all of his lectures start with goal-by-goal breakdowns of your guys’ most recent game. If I submit some stellar-looking film photos of the action on the field, he’d give me a good grade and a good letter of recommendation.” You notice Gojo tense up slightly in front of you. “I’m trying to get into this one graduate program.”

You watch his chest rise and fall with a deep breath as he turns his head to look away from you and instead look straight ahead at the fridge. Long lashes flutter against the top of his cheeks every time he blinks. His arms that were crossed at his chest rise a little as he shrugs. “Yeah, I guess I can do that for you.”

You can’t control the smile that spreads across your face when he acquiesces. This was a really good opportunity for you. You pick up the punch that he gave you and almost bring it to your lips when he speaks again, interrupting the motion.

“Your pictures are pretty good, by the way,” he says, still staring straight forward at the fridge.

Your mouth gapes slightly. “How have you seen my photos?”

He looks down at you, an eyebrow raised. “I follow you on Instagram, dummy. Also, you never followed me back.”

You’re standing there a little stunned at the conversation. He speaks to you so casually as if you haven’t just met him tonight. “Sorry, I only really follow back my friends…”

“Are we not friends?” It’s your turn to let out a laugh, thinking he’s joking, only to realize he’s not.

“I’ve literally just met you…speaking of, I should probably pour my own drink,” you say as you slide the punch back onto the counter top over to him and turn away to head in the direction he had gone to retrieve it for you. You hear him mutter an ouch from behind you at the implied accusation you just made but you remind yourself that this man is essentially a stranger to you, and the only things you know about him are things you’ve heard from other strangers.

You spot Mina still by the beer pong table, this time heavily invested in the game and she even flirtatiously blows on Todo’s ping pong ball for good luck before he chucks it at the opposing teams’ cups, entirely missing, but Mina reaches up to place a kiss on his cheek regardless. Your jaw drops at the sight. She was going to be answering a lot of your questions in the morning.

You find the punch table, pour yourself some, and realize that it was indeed non-alcoholic and pretty damn good. Mina finally makes eye contact with you from across the room and she leaves the table to make her way to you.

“Y/n! OMG, I was lookin’ for you, girl!” She sounded a bit tipsy. “What time is it? I totally forgot I have a stupid discussion post thingy due at midnight.”

You pull your phone out of your fanny pack and read the time that says 11:12PM. It was still a bit early to leave a party, but you supposed it was up to Mina. “It’s 11:12PM. There’s no traffic so it would probably just take us around 10-15 minutes to get home. You wanna leave?”

She sighs and turns around to look at Todo, who was giving her a sleazy look and mouthing what’s wrong, babe? Mina shakes her head at him pitifully and then turns her head back to you with sulking shoulders. “Yeah…stupid professor making those posts 25% of our entire grade…”

You laughed and made sure she grabbed her purse before you two headed towards the exit. You bumped into Geto again on your way out and gave him a polite goodbye and then you two were out of the door, loud party noises getting further and further as you made it to the car. Mina trailed a bit behind you but eventually made it over to the passenger side door. You unlocked the car and she made it inside, but before you do the same, your phone pings with a notification from Instagram.

|| 11:16PM Gojo Satoru: I’ll let you know our practice and game schedule for the next week. Just let me know what times you’re interested in stopping by

A small twinge of excitement fills your chest and you’re suddenly feeling some sort of high as you slide into the driver’s seat of the car. Mina’s mumbling something like turn on the heateeerrr beside you, and you put the car in drive then take the two of you home.

a/n. apologies for any formatting errors since i'm copy/pastin from my ao3! i've tried to manually fix them all but i'm too lazy to read the whole thing to fix it lol. hope you enjoyed!

➸ take me to chapter three!

591 notes · View notes

literaphobe · 3 months

Note

who does adrien love more, ladybug or marinette?

HELLO ANON. i honestly love that u sent this. hard hitting potentially controversial questions are fun to me. i love analyzing and breaking down my writing and characters. also this is about tvl adrichat to anyone who’s seeing this <- im assuming so bc u sent it after I posted ch7

anyway, based on ch1-7, but also how tvl adrichat is in general, id say in simple terms, He Doesn’t Love One More Than The Other

in general, he thinks he shouldn’t be in love with either of them. ladybug, he sees as a door that’s been closed since jubilation. he turns that doorknob open, takes a peek every now and then, heart tightens at the sights he steals. but he’s been under the impression that they are Just Friends. he set that very boundary on his own, on multiple occasions, not to reject her—because ladybug never Properly came clean about being in love with him—but to remind himself that they weren’t a line he should cross. that is, until she revealed her plans and repressed desires to sleep with him. and then black and white swirled together to burn and blare flashing red sirens

and then as of right now in tvl, he’s falling into her arms but still sort of wary about everything he gets to enjoy. he’s afraid it’s too much and that she’ll realize that soon enough, can barely believe it’s still happening/has happened in the first place, and the indefinite nature of the situation is read as Temporary to him. it’s why he acts/acts out in bizarre ways, and tvl ladybug winds up accommodating him in ways she THINKS is sexual, but for him is usually deeply emotional

a part of him in still in denial. his plan from the get go was to not fall in love with ladybug again. he’s admitted several times to the readers that he thinks he’s doomed. but he hasn’t exactly crossed that final line, seen his tragedy for what it was -> he’s been in love with her from the start, and it’s only getting worse, the worst it’s ever been

SO. that brings me to tvl marinette. how does tvl adrichat’s love for her compare? as it has been alluded to/straight up mentioned on occasion across the chapters, tvl marinette broke up with tvl adrien years ago, but never properly explained to him why. they also remained friends, however awkward that was, best friends you could say, enduring high school and university and now they are even navigating working life together!! by literally having their jobs be intertwined. in ch7, it is implied that tvl adrichat hates his job. he mentions wanting to quit for more time with her on several occasions. undoubtedly though, he was also not being too serious, because actually going through with it would mean leaving marinette jobless

no, tvl adrichat isn’t over marinette. he doesn’t really think he is, especially before the events of tvl, and those first few years of their breakup. because he never received an explanation, the uncertainty of the whole situation, and the lack of space or boundaries they didn’t bother to establish in their friendship, a part of him just HOPED she’d change her mind, come around, and take him back. especially since all those years had her dating No One, and he followed suit because he wanted to be with her (and more importantly he just wasn’t interested in anyone else. his life oscillates between Bug Lady and Clumsy Girl)

random tidbit. in ch1 tvl adrichat mentions that he forgets everything that happens when he’s drunk, and this is why he was confused that tvl ladybug Remembered what happened to her when she was absolutely hammered. I’ll let u all make of that however u will

with tvl marinette, as seen in ch4, through adrien’s perspective GETS JEALOUS and appears somewhat into him still -> which is absolutely torturous and difficult because he’s well aware most of her confusing signals ARENT synonymous with wanting to date him again. she has this power and ability to turn his world topsy turvy that she isn’t fully aware of, and what she IS aware of makes her severely guilty

if his situation w ladybug is a closed door that creaks open from time to time, marinette is a house they’re still in together, but every time he sees her in a room, she walks into a different one. so, in conclusion, they both devastate him, and any time he’s with either of them, things aren’t easy on his heart in any sense at all

WHOOPS! poor guy!!

#ask #tvl #tvl ch7 #hi guys!!!!! thanks so much for the recent comments on the new chapter #so stoked to see people love it!!!#hoping more people get to catch up bc i really love hearing all ur thoughts!!!#also i hope this was an enjoyable analysis!!!!#feel free to ask me more questions about stuff ur curious about and want me to unpack!!!!!

26 notes · View notes

oldfashionedmorphine · 6 months

Text

hi, it’s me again, here with another small preview of my upcoming byler big bang fic:

on the same frequency

-.-. .... .- .--. - . .-. / -....

December 28, 1985

“So what about Plan B?” Lucas asks, first to break the stretch of silence after they finish eating. “Obviously I don’t wanna resort to it anymore than you guys do, but Plan A feels pretty solid now…” then he looks directly at Mike, “and you did say you wanted to be one hundred percent prepared for it just in case.”

All it took was the mere mention of Plan B for Mike to start fidgeting. “Yeah, I know what I said,” he grumbles, getting up off the floor.

“So then how’re we gonna set the trap? Like how do we get him to take the bait?”

“I don’t know.” And at this point, Mike was pacing.

Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, shrugging. It didn’t seem like either of them had any new suggestions to offer, or maybe they were waiting for Mike to throw out the first suggestion. Except Mike just kept pacing back and forth saying nothing, which was making Will even more nervous than he already was.

December 29, 1985

“Shit—sorry,” Mike whispers into his ear as he loosens his arms around him and leans away a bit, but doesn’t fully let go. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says. And then they rest their foreheads against each other, making Will’s heart race.

“It just seemed so real and I—”

“Mike!” Dustin yells from above, causing Mike to flinch and take a step back from him. “Your mom’s making chocolate chip pancakes! Get up here!”

“We’ll be right there!” Mike shouts back.

It was impossible not to feel a little disappointed when Mike flinched away from him again. But he swallows it down, forcing a smile instead and says, “Pancakes sound good.”

🎶 a song from chapter six 🎶

rating: mature

tags: alternate universe, not canon compliant, major character death, grief/mourning, ptsd, blood and injury, supernatural elements, time shenanigans, butterfly effect, thriller, angst with a happy ending

release date: 11/26/2023

✨ previous chapter previews ✨

ch1 | ch2 | ch3 | ch4 | ch5

tagging:

@kaiminluu @greenfiend @total-serene560 @across-thestars @boahey @magentamee @daydreams-in-the-moonlight @soyboystan @foodiewithdahoodie @booksandpaperss @likegoldintheair @mandycantdecide @hazmatazz @sparks-olivarpente @1-tehe-1 @wheelersboy @rebellius @maru-chu @septembr-moon @kamomillatea @trvbblemaker

(only one more chapter preview left!!)

#chapter 6 preview #‘oh my gosh that was so tense. holy shit!!!’—direct quote from my beta about ch 6 :D #also fyi this chapter is over 10k!!! 😱#oh and i haven’t even started writing chapter 7 yet… eheheheh but it’s okay cause it’s wayyyy shorter lol #on the same frequency: a byler fic #byler fanfic #byler fanfiction #byler big bang 2023 #byler big bang #bbb23

33 notes · View notes

abitohoney · 8 months

Text

Hustle - CH2: Undercity

AO3 link

CH1 || CH2 || CH3 || CH4 || CH5

Sevika x female reader

Rating: Explicit, MDNI, NSFW

Tags: Sevika/Reader, Ran & Reader, Established Relationship, assassin reader, Fluff, Smut, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, horny idiots in love, Dom/sub, Dom Sevika, sub Reader, Humor, Banter, Choking, Spanking, Teasing, Light Sadism, Begging, Strap-Ons, Lesbian Sex, Aftercare, Gambling, Smoking, lack of understanding card games, totally winging this shit, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood, Praise Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Semi-Public Sex, Rough Sex, Hair-pulling, reader is not the most graceful creature, but Sevika adores reader all the more for it, Jealousy, Marking, Orgasm Delay, Cunnilingus, Multiple Orgasms, Hurt/Comfort, a Yordle OC that we will likely never see again but I had entirely too much fun writing, 69 (Sex Position)

Word Count: 8.6k

Summary: Looking to make your nights with Sevika a bit more… exciting, you suggest making use of your shared talent for playing cards. Together, the two of you take the Undercity, and even Topside, by storm. And what’s more exciting than the thrill of winning, or watching your opponents whine and gripe in defeat, or earning far more coin than the two of you could possibly spend? The release of pent-up sexual desire that seems to come with each and every win, that’s what.

AN: This is already in process over on AO3.

The dimly lit alley Ran had designated as the spot for the first several stages of the tournament was nothing special. Set deep within the lanes, the air was some of the thickest and nastiest, but it was nothing either you or Sevika weren’t accustomed to. Despite that, you had hoped Ran would have found something at least a little more cushy than the rickety old table and chairs sitting along the brick wall. Ran assured you it was only for the first stages, then once most of the weaker players were weeded out, the final stages would be played at the Last Drop.

“So do you remember all the signals?” you asked Sevika quietly as the two of you took seats opposite one another. Ran had gone off to fetch your first opponents- a couple of young suckers per Ran’s testament- leaving the two of you alone for a moment.

“I already told you,” she said around her cigarillo and brought a lighter to the end, “I got it.”

“Okay,” you replied, not so certain you believed her. Your gaze followed her hand as she put her pack of smokes and lighter back into the pack at her hip, then flitted back up to her face, your brows furrowed.

“What?” she asked, smoke billowing from the corners of her mouth after she took a quick drag.

“So obviously you do not remember all the signals.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

You sighed and rolled your eyes dramatically. “How do we tell each other to fold?”

She said nothing, clearly not recalling nor interested in admitting it.

“Blowing smoke from the right side of your mouth.”

“Knew that already, princess.”

Liar.

“And how might I signal you to fold if I don’t have a cigarillo?”

“Sounds like a you problem,” she sneered, tapping her cigarillo against her ashtray. The one you’d made her. “You really want a smoke?”

“What? It’s not like I don’t get enough secondhand from you,” you pointed out. It was true, but you were in all honesty willing. She had a thing for shot-gunning the smoke into your mouth, and you enjoyed it far more than you cared to admit.

“Suit yourself,” she replied with a shake of her head. She passed you her own cigarillo before pulling out a fresh one for herself.

After taking a quick drag, you peered down to the end of the alley, verifying no one was there before leaning across the table. “Hey. Check this out.”

Sevika raised a brow when you motioned for her to lean closer. Despite the obvious suspicion, she leaned in closer.

“Got a few tricks up my sleeve if things aren’t looking too good,” you said with a smile before reaching behind her ear and pulling back with a card.

You gave her your biggest, cheesiest smile.

She deadpanned.

“What?” you asked incredulously. You thought that was damn smooth. You could quite literally pull a card from your jacket sleeve without anyone seeing the motion.

“Just don’t get caught. I don’t want to have to clean up your mess,” she grumbled with another shake of her head.

“Oh stop being such a grump. I probably won’t even need to do any sleight-of-hand tricks. We’ll clean this first set of chumps out no problem.”

Hearing someone approaching from the side street, you both sat back in your chairs and put on your best poker face. Just as smoothly as you had pulled the card from your sleeve you slipped it right back in.

Based on initial impressions, Ran was spot on. The two young men that approached your table with Ran in tow behind them looked dumber than bricks, especially the larger man whom you weren’t too fond of the look he gave you. Like you were going to be the mark in this game.

Idiot.

“Alright girls, whose dealing?” he asked after taking a seat to your right.

Both you and Sevika cringed- visibly- and yet the fool took no notice.

Correction- imbecile.

“House deals,” Ran said as they stepped up to the table.

Ensuring you made eye contact with Sevika, you scratched the right side of your nose, indicating the larger man as the mark– the weak player. Not that she needed you to tell her that. Anyone with half a brain could see this guy had no clue what he was doing. His cocky attitude was a complete sham.

Sevika’s lips twitched at the corner. You knew she wanted to smirk at the absurdity, but both of you were schooling your expressions, even if it may not have been necessary with those two.

Both men ended up being no competition just as expected. To the point that Sevika and you rarely needed to use any signals. You alone had won every single round easily. They both had obvious tells, the smaller man making nervous eye movements and tapping his foot, the larger one grinning haughtily whenever he thought he had a good hand.

Bored out of your mind, you decided to spend your cleverness on something else fun.

Taunting your girlfriend.

“Clearly didn’t afford that by playing cards,” you sneered with a nod to Sevika’s arm.

The larger man snickered at the jab, while the other flitted his eyes worriedly between you and Sevika. Sevika raised a brow, but the moment she caught your shit-eating grin, her own lips curled into a smirk.

“Big words coming from someone who can’t afford decent clothing.” She nodded to your simple all black outfit as she drew a card from the deck.

More snickering.

Your brows furrowed.

Touche.

Sevika knew damn well why you- an assassin- dressed for function rather than aesthetics, but she still loved to get you riled up by insulting your garment choices.

“Don’t need fancy clothes to enjoy luxury,” you replied and tossed several more coins into the pot.

She chuckled mockingly. “Yeah? And what kind of luxury does a girl like you have?”

No more than her honestly, but that wasn’t the point here.

“A girl like me has a woman back home who’d buy me the stars in the Piltover sky if I asked her to.”

Another derisive chuckle.

Sevika raised her bet as well while sneering, “Couldn’t catch a woman in that getup so you bought yourself one, hm?”

That had the large man damn near bellowing with laughter. Even Ran had released a quiet, breathy laugh from where they leaned against the wall opposite you.

“Didn’t pay her a damn thing,” you scoffed, “She came onto me entirely of her own volition. Couldn’t and still can’t keep her hands off me.”

“Probably just to choke out your bratting,” she jeered, rolling her cigarillo from one corner of her mouth to the other.

The movement caught your attention and you lost your focus for a moment, too enraptured by the tip of her tongue rolling the gold filter between her teeth. And fuck that haughty smirk of hers was distracting as well. Those dark, thick, soft lips curled so deliciously…

“Only if I want her to,” you replied in a bit of a daze and with far less bite than your previous retorts.

It wasn’t until you caught her brow raise in your periphery that you finally pulled your eyes off her mouth.

You heard the smaller man at your left cough awkwardly. After a quick glance around the table, you realized it was your turn.

Shit.

Get your head in the game.

You couldn’t lose to these chumps. You glanced down at your cards. It was a damn good hand.

Fuck it.

You threw all your coins in, then watched the smaller man and Sevika both fold. However, the larger man called it, matching your bet.

Then came the showdown, and there was no holding back your shit-eating grin as you tossed your hand onto the table.

“Read ‘em and weep,” you sneered.

His own cocky smirk wiped clear off his face the moment he saw your hand. He tossed his own down, cussing and slamming his fist on the table.

Lips curled into a cocky smile, you leaned over the table, arms encircling the pile of coins to pull them in. You barely made it halfway across the table when your hand was snatched up by the wrist. Your eyes slowly drifted from your winnings to the offending fingers firmly wrapped around your skin, then up to the face of the owner.

“You cheated!” he spat, droplets hitting your face from where the larger of the two men stood towering over you.

“I suggest you release my hand,” you replied calmly, but your smirk had downturned into a frown, disgusted by the unwanted contact.

“You’re not leaving with my coins you filthy little chea-”

The fool’s snarky remark was cut short the moment you spotted him reaching for something in his pocket– a weapon. Sevika must have noticed as well, blade drawn beneath her cloak, her chair and the table scraping across the stone as she immediately stood to protect you.

Ran had also pushed off the wall, twin blades drawn and ready.

It didn’t matter though. In less than a second you had the asshole on his knees, back to you, greasy hair in your fist, head pulled back, and one of your daggers pressed to his delicate throat.

His hands hovered in the air, shaking in fear. Tendrils of smoke curled up into his face from where your cigarillo lay forgotten on the street beside his knees.

Fucking coward.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you snarled. Your gaze darted to the other guy who now stood just a few feet away, fingers twitching at his side as if debating on reaching for his own weapon.

"You think I won't slit your buddy’s throat right here in front of you?" you taunted. You pressed the edge of your dagger hard enough against his throat to draw a drop of blood that spread along the edge of the blade.

“You- You can keep the coins. They’re yours! Just- Just don’t kill me!” the man on his knees stammered, sounding damn near tears with how his voice trembled.

Pathetic coward.

You bent down, eyes still locked with the smaller man, and whispered into his buddy’s ear, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “That’s right. It is mine. And you’re going to stay the fuck away from me and this tournament. You try to call me a cheat to any of the other players and I won’t hesitate to take your ass out for good.”

“Yes! Anyth-”

His whimpering cut off as you violently shoved him away to fall on his hands at the other man’s feet. He scrambled to his feet and turned to face you, fear evident in how he cowered and shook.

With a sadistic smile, you locked eyes with him and brought the edge of the blade to your mouth, licking the blood off with one, long, exaggerated swipe of your tongue.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” the other, clearly smarter, man whispered.

You watched the two of them run off down the alley, the dumber one nearly tripping over several crates when he looked over his shoulder to see if you were following. The only one following was Ran, but at a rather leisurely pace, likely tagging them to ensure they didn’t get any more stupid ideas.

Slipping your dagger back into its sheath at your hip, you wondered if perhaps your little show was a bit too much. In all honesty, you’d been itching to use your daggers for far too long. You’d been so desperate to take someone out you even had the gall to waltz into Silco’s office and ask if he had anyone he needed to be taken out. Of course he just gave you a bland, ‘Business was running smoother than usual.’ speech.

You rolled your eyes at the recollection and turned to Sevika, startled to find her expression wildly… well… wild. Some sort of odd mix of stunned and very, very turned on.

Clearly you hadn’t gone too far.

“You alright?” you asked with a cocky grin while you strode up to where she stood near the wall.

“That was… impressive,” she admitted with her own hint of a smirk.

Oh, did that stroke your ego real nice.

“Yeah?”

She said nothing, just watched you from down her nose as you stood toe to toe with her and well within her space.

"You like seeing me take control, don't you? Gets you hot and bothered, doesn’t it?" you sneered, dragging the tip of your finger down along the shiny gold collar of her top. Without giving her a moment to respond, you pressed both palms against her chest just below her shoulders and shoved– hard.

Her back hit the wall, knocking a small, startled grunt from her. To your surprise she let you continue your little act, merely lifted a single brow and continued to smirk down at you.

“You like seeing me bring grown men to their knees, don’t you?” you asked, emphasizing the word with an obvious brush of your knee between her thighs. That earned you a small twitch of her curled lips.

Perfect.

"Wonder how easily I can bring you to your knees," you purred, dragging your nails down over her exposed abdomen before dipping them beneath the waist of her pants. You could feel her muscles beneath contract at the sensual touch, her smirk faltering just briefly before schooling back into that cocky, cool facade she always wore.

“Real cute,” she jeered.

“What’s cute?” you asked, brows furrowed at what was likely meant to be an insult.

“That you think you have any control over me.”

"Oh I think I have some control over y-"

Your retort was cut short when Sevika suddenly grabbed you by the collar of your jacket and spun you around, shoving you roughly against the wall.

"Oh I know I have all the control, princess," she sneered and pressed her knee between your legs, mimicking the same thing you'd just done to her. "Don't I?"

As was tradition, all your confidence melted away with that simple action. Any possible quip left your brain the moment she rubbed that lovely, thick thigh of hers against your clothed heat.

And fuck were you hot.

Apparently that little game and the subsequent tussle got both of you pretty riled up.

"I asked you a question," she growled, pressing her thigh harder against you.

You gasped, biting your lip to fight back the desperate moan that hung in your throat.

With her metal hand still gripping your jacket in her first, she let her other hand slowly trail down your front, the wide spread of her fingers lightly grazing your nipples.

“I-” you struggled to remember what she’d even asked you, too lost in the feeling of her fingers slowly dragging lower, down your abdomen and toward your pants. Too lost in how her pupils seemed to grow just a bit wider when you sucked in a breath at the tease of her fingers slipping beneath your waistband. You held that breath, hoping to give her extra room for her fingers, to coerce her into continuing that descent.

“Answer me, or I stop,” she threatened while her fingers dipped beneath your panties.

“Sev- I-” you stammered as you released your breath. The air suddenly became even thicker and harder to breathe than usual as your arousal and desperation continued to build. “Can- Can you repeat the question?” you asked weakly.

A single brow raised. She wouldn’t give in so easily.

“Please Sevika,” you pleaded when her hand ceased its descent, the tip of her middle finger just above your aching clit. It took every ounce of willpower to remain still for her, your body urging you to just rock against her hand and thigh- take what you wanted without her permission.

“Who’s in control here?”

“Y- You,” you admitted, fingers clawing at the brick wall behind you, itching to touch some part of her, force her hands down, pull her in for a kiss, anything to ease the need burning low in your belly.

“Do you have any control?”

“N- No,” you admitted, shaking your head for emphasis. “You have complete control.”

“And you like it that way, don’t you?” she sneered, lips curling into a wicked little grin.

God yes.

“Yes,” you replied with a nod.

Her lips curled even higher and she released your jacket to run the back of a metal finger across your cheek. “That’s my good girl.”

Those simple words, though you’ve heard her speak them plenty of times before, threatened to take you out at the knees. Her praise. Her recognition. Her adoration. All something you’d never known you’d need so bad. And you were her good girl. Nobody else could claim that. And you knew that did it for her as much as it did it for you.

And then that blissfully thick finger of hers finally slipped over your clit and through your wet slit, just the tip curling inside.

“Oh fuck Sevika…” you keened as pleasure rang through your lower half.

“Seems you’re the one who got– what was it you called it? Hot and bothered?” she taunted.

You didn’t even bother trying to argue that. She was right, and you just wanted her to stop the teasing and start fucking you.

“Fuck, just slides right in,” she groaned as she slipped her middle finger deep inside.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth you held back the urge to moan. You may have been at the end of an otherwise deserted alley, but there was no telling when someone might show up. And as she started sliding that long digit back out, curling it to drag along your walls, all you could do was bite down harder to muffle the pathetic mewl that managed to escape.

“Uh uh,” Sevika scolded, her metal thumb pressing down on your chin and coaxing you to release your lip. “Those lips are mine to bite. Not yours.”

More than happy to give her that access, you let your jaw go slack, lips parting. Your hungry gaze drifted from her intense eyes to those soft, plush lips of hers, anxiously waiting for them to connect with yours.

She must have noticed your desperation, playing into it by ever so slowly dipping her head lower to line her mouth up with yours. As she slipped her finger back inside, palm rubbing along your clit, she let her lips ghost over yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan spilling past your lips with a shaky breath. The bricks beneath your nails dropped tiny flakes as you clawed along them harder, frantically trying to suppress the urge to touch her.

Warm breath, scented with hints of spice and smoke, fanned over your lips as she chuckled. That laugh- derisive, demeaning, mocking- damn near broke your restraint. A pathetic whine was all you could manage in protest.

“You’re just dying to touch me, aren’t you?” she sneered, slowly slipping her finger back out but keeping her lips a mere hair's breadth away from yours.

Your fingers clenched further, more of the brick crumbling into your hands. Lips so dry, you needed to wet them, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t risk your tongue slipping out too far and touching her without permission.

“Trying so hard to be a good girl for me, hm?” she taunted, finger delving back inside.

“Yes,” you breathed out.

“Think you deserve a reward?” Her lips brushed against yours as she spoke.

“Yes.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, “And what should that be?”

“A- A kiss?” you asked softly.

She released a low, husky laugh, her breath suffocatingly hot against your dry lips. “So predictable.”

She tilted her head in the opposite direction, her nose brushing along yours. But rather than finally giving you the kiss you both knew you deserved, she not only left her lips hovering tauntingly close, but she pulled her finger out– completely.

“Oh fuck no! Please Sevika, don’t stop,” you begged, eyes flying wide open in panic. Pleading eyes met sadistic ones. Before you could further protest the loss of stimulation, she slipped her slick-coated finger between your parted lips. Obediently, you wrapped your lips around the digit and allowed her to jam it clear to the back of your tongue. Your eyes watered in a mix of desperation to ease your ever increasing arousal and determination not to choke.

“That’s right. Be a good girl and clean that up,” she husked, mouth still dangerously close to yours.

You moaned, the bitter taste filling your mouth as you licked and sucked her finger clean, but dreaded that this might signal the end of your little romp.

As Sevika removed her finger from your mouth, she pressed down, forcing you to let your mouth hang slack. Before it was even halfway out, her lips finally crashed against yours, tongue delving inside to swipe over yours and gather any remnants of your arousal.

No longer able to contain yourself, your hands flew up to grasp the collar of her top, pulling her closer to deepen the kiss.

She growled into your mouth, but to your surprise, rather than punish you she pressed her knee between your legs again.

The moment you pulled back to gasp at the sudden stimulation she took the plush of your bottom lip between her teeth and clamped down.

Pain radiated from those tiny points, eliciting a soft whimper. That pain was short-lived though, quickly replaced with the delightful sensation of her lips wrapping around your swollen lip, tongue licking soothingly along it before dipping back inside your mouth.

When you started grinding against her thigh, her kiss suddenly turned hungry- frantic. She damn near devoured your mouth, tongue invading every crevice, teeth clacking against yours and nipping at your tongue when you tried to match her fervor.

Then her hands were everywhere. Metal fingers wrapped beneath your chin, pressing hard against your cheeks and holding you in place as she shoved that wet muscle deeper. Warm, calloused fingers slipped beneath your shirt to grope a breast, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh almost painfully hard.

Unable to compete with her kiss, you attempted to slip a hand down the front of her pants. Your fingers barely made it beneath the waistband when her metal hand fisted in your hair and yanked, forcing your head back and breaking the kiss. You gasped, sharp pain radiating from each strained follicle, only for pleasure to follow in its wake.

Soft, wet lips trailed down your jaw to your exposed neck, teeth sinking into the flesh as Sevika sucked and marked your skin clear down to your collarbone. The hand beneath your shirt ripped the cup of your bra down and lifted your shirt, exposing a breast to the warm, moist air.

Abandoning your attempt to get into her pants, you instead threaded your fingers into the silky black strands of her hair while she brought her mouth to your breast.

She wasted no time leaving her mark there too, sucking hard enough to leave little love bruises that would bloom into a colorful reminder later. Her breath was hot and heavy against your skin, nearly as much as your own.

You continued to grind against her, sinking your nails into her scalp when she took your hardened nipple into her mouth and bit down.

“Fuck, Sevika,” you panted. Your extremities ached. Pleasure radiated from every point of contact. Your scalp– where she relentlessly gripped your hair so tight you couldn’t move. Your cunt– where it rubbed along her thick, muscular thigh. And your breast– where she fervently squeezed, pinched, sucked, and bit the sensitive flesh.

Something rattled at the end of the alley, startling you and ripping you from your reverie.

Sevika released your nipple from her mouth to glare down the alley.

Everything went silent, save for the heavy breaths between the two of you, as you both watched and waited for the source of the noise to present itself. To your relief, a stray black cat appeared from around the corner. It paused for a moment, glanced at the two of you standing there, nearly out of breath, then continued down the street until disappearing past the opposite wall.

Sevika stood fully upright, her chest heaving against yours, the fabric of her top teasing over your exposed nipple.

You peered up at her with lust-filled eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, an obvious hunger behind them.

“Drop your pants and bend over the table,” she growled, giving your hair one final tug before releasing it and stepping back.

You blinked. “What?”

“I said, drop your pants and bend over the fucking table,” she snarled, baring her teeth as her lips curled back.

Oh fuck.

Your legs nearly gave out at the implications of that demand. The absolutely ravenous way she looked at you– spoke to you.

Clearly this competitiveness, your confidence, the dangers of your collusion– it all riled her up real good.

Clearly there were more rewards to reap than just the coins and disappointment of your opponents.

And clearly Sevika was incredibly impatient.

She immediately pulled her harness and strap-on out of her pouch, wasting no time stepping into it as you stood transfixed and astounded.

Was she really going to do this? Right here? In a public alley?

She finished hooking everything up in record time, her narrowed eyes rising to meet yours.

“You either get those pants down or I’m going to rip them off your ass,” she threatened.

Guess that answered the question.

Hesitantly, you walked past her to the table. It was still littered with your coins, forgotten after the slew of distractions. You turned your head to peer down the vacant alley to the main street. It wasn’t a popular street so to speak, but there were plenty of people that knew of the tournament, and Ran could come back with the next opponents at any moment.

You slowly began unbuttoning your pants, hands shaking in a combination of trepidation and excitement. With your thumbs tucked beneath the waistband, you glanced over your shoulder at Sevika as she approached you.

“Are- Are we really going to do this here? In public?” you whispered. “The next match isn’t too long from now. People could show up any minute.”

“Then I guess you better stop stalling and do what I-” she paused dramatically, placing both her hands over yours. “- said.” She growled out that last word, simultaneously pulling your hands- and subsequently your pants and underwear- down with enough force you were astonished your clothing didn’t tear.

“Sevika!” you yelped. It fell on deaf ears though.

Sevika chuckled, bringing her mouth to your ear. “Now, do I need to help you bend over too, or is that something you think you can handle by yourself?”

You huffed out a frustrated breath. She could be so damn brash sometimes. Yet, you’d be lying if you tried to claim it wasn’t something you actually enjoyed.

“I can handle it,” you hissed.

Another mocking chuckle. “Of course you can, princess.” she taunted, trailing her fingertips- both metal and flesh- across your bare asscheeks while you bent over the table.

You rested on your forearms, cheeks hot with embarrassment and arousal. Your pants and underwear sat at your ankles, and you were bent over more than far enough to reveal your underside and all its… glory. For a moment you debated whether you wanted to turn and watch for the possible onlookers as your girlfriend fucked you in the alley, or if you’d rather just hide your face in your hands and be oblivious to any audience. Either way, you were definitely in for a railing judging by how riled up Sevika seemed. Likely wouldn’t be walking right for at least a week. The thought of that, rather than filling you with dread, filled you with desire.

Wasn’t like Silco would be giving you a job anytime soon anyway.

Sevika’s metal fingers skimmed up to your hip, gripping it firmly while her human fingers ghosted up along the inside of your thigh. You sucked in a breath, holding it along with your lips between your teeth as she inched closer and closer to the apex.

“Mmm. Already so wet you're dripping down your thighs,” she teased.

You said nothing, not trusting your ability to speak when her fingers were that close.

“And here I thought you were worried about me fucking you right here. Seems you rather like the idea.”

Her finger paused, just before reaching that delightful point.

And you should have known she was just trying to goad you– trap you. It was so fucking obvious. But your mind was already scrambled, clouded with need. So you took the bait.

“Of course I’m worri- oh fuuuck.” Your barely snarky retort dissolved into a wanton moan the moment Sevika slid her middle finger ever so slowly through your wet slit.

Your eyes fluttered shut, her taunting chuckle echoing in your head.

“Didn’t quite catch that. Got something to say, princess?”

Wiser, or maybe just even more distracted by how she teased her faux cock through your folds, you kept your mouth shut that time. Instead, you focused your attention on attempting to remain quiet. But with each slide of the strap, you felt that restraint quickly crumble.

“Sevika,” you whined.

“Hmm. What’s the matter baby?” she cooed.

“Stop- Stop teasing. Please.”

The toy dragged further through your folds, the tip grazing your clit and drawing a sharp gasp from your throat.

“Not teasing. Just making sure we get this nice and wet before I fuck you.”

Bullshit.

Well, maybe not entirely. She was getting it wet and teasing you.

Your thoughts ended there when you felt her finally guide the tip inside.

“Ready?” she husked and moved her human hand to grasp your other hip.

With your eyes closed and your breath held in your chest, you nodded. There was no warning for what she was about to do though. Rather than ease it in as she typically did, she slammed her hips against yours, burying the entirety of the faux cock in one fell swoop.

“Fuck!” you cried out as the startling pain of that sudden intrusion left you seeing white behind your eyelids. Your hands clenched into fists, teeth clamping down to fight off the pathetic whimper you felt building in your throat.

The pain subsided almost instantly though, replaced by a warmth that spread clear from your core down through your thighs. “Fuck, Sevika,” you whimpered. You shifted your feet and tried to relax your body. Unfortunately she had to make that more difficult for you, releasing one of her low, dark chuckles that made you both furious and undeniably turned on.

Gods, you would never get used to her glorious voice.

Even after all the time you two had been together, her voice still held the same power to make your legs weak. But it went beyond just her voice. It was how she used it to tease, taunt, and torment you in the most arousing way. As if hearing your own thoughts, she used that husky voice of hers to further provoke you.

“What’s the problem now? Hm? Thought you wanted me to stop teasing.” The snarky, cocky tone of her words contrasted wildly with how her hands slipped beneath your shirt to soothingly caress your sides and lower back while you adjusted.

And fuck did you need it. She had brought one of her larger dildos. One that filled you so completely that you swore if it were so much as a fraction longer or wider she’d be splitting you in two.

Slowly, you opened your eyes and reluctantly peered down the alley. It seemed, at least at that moment, you two had not been discovered yet, but she’d only just begun.

She moved her hands back to your hips, giving them a squeeze to let you know she was going to pull back out. She did so slowly, dragging along your walls and with it a long, drawn out moan from you.

Starting with sharp, deep thrusts, she pulled out slowly each time only to ram back in hard enough to make the table shake and the items that littered it to rattle and scatter.

“Sev- we- we need to hurry,” you huffed out between thrusts. “Someone- could- show up- any- minute.”

“Let them,” Sevika grunted as she snapped her hips. “Maybe they could learn-”

Snap!

“- a thing-”

Snap!

“- or two.”

Snap!

Had you not felt so hazy, so impaired by the pleasure coursing through your lower half, you would have rolled your eyes at that cocky-ass comment. Instead, you put what little you had into trying to push back against her- quicken the pace and drive the toy deeper.

“You really are too impatient,” Sevika sneered. After she pulled back out, rather than driving right back in she brought her flesh hand down across your back end, pulling yet another startled yelp from you.

“Damnit Sev-” you whimpered while she gently caressed your stinging flesh.

“Did you forget who’s in control here?”

…

She slowly bent over your body until her chest pressed against your back. The tip of the dildo threatened to slip out at any moment. With her lips brushing against your ear she whispered, “If you really want something, you know what to do.”

Her husky voice and warm breath tickling across the back of your neck had you shuddering and involuntarily clenching, nearly pushing the toy completely out.

“Sevika please,” you begged, legs trembling from the effort to remain still.

“Please what, baby?” she husked as she ran her nose along the back of your ear and slowly pushed the faux cock back inside at an angle so sharp your knees nearly buckled when it hit that sweet spot that always left you seeing stars.

You inhaled sharply, then released it in a long moan.

“Mmm,” she hummed, mouth to your ear again, “You do make such pretty sounds for me. But you’re gonna have to use your words if you want something.”

As much as you hated trying to form words while you were in such a daze, you knew how much she enjoyed hearing you struggle. Hearing you beg. And you knew it would always be worth it. She rewarded you so well, each and every time.

So you sucked in a shaky breath, tried to clear your mind, and gathered the words you needed to speak. Then out they came, with a rush of breath and a pathetic whine when you felt her fingers tease across your throbbing clit.

“Sevika, please fuck me harder– faster!”

She chuckled into your ear. It was taunting, sinister, and so very fucking sexy.

“As you wish, princess.”

She stood back upright, leaving you missing the wonderful contact of her chest to your back. At least until she made you forget all about it with the sudden jolt of her hips, burying the dildo deep inside you.

She wasted no time setting a brutally fast and hard pace. Each time she delved inside you swore she somehow went deeper, pulling moan after moan from you without restraint. And with each powerful thrust- her thighs smacking violently against your ass- the table shook hard. Coins and glasses rattled, some scattering and toppling off the table. Neither of you gave two shits though. You were in an entirely different world, lost in your own bliss. And Sevika, well, she just didn’t give a shit about anything other than you, your pleasure, and her own subsequent pleasure.

Then, without warning, you felt Sevika’s human fingers slip through your hair, grasping a handful before sharply yanking your head back and up.

You released a sharp cry, pain searing through your scalp. Your hands scrambled and clawed blindly through the air, back arched so sharp you were unable to find purchase upon any part of the table. And then her metal hand was under your shirt, dangerously sharp talons grabbing at your breast and providing you just enough relief of your weight to turn that pain at your scalp into mind-numbing pleasure.

“Oh dear god,” you groaned.

“That’s right baby,” Sevika huffed as she continued to downright pummel you from behind, “Tell me how good I make you feel.”

There simply were no words to describe how good you felt. Not when her metal fingers expertly pinched, teased, and pulled your nipple. Not when your back arched so far it left your muscles singing. Not when her cock angled so sharply it hit that fucking sweet spot with literally every plunge. Not when your scalp screamed in ecstasy at the harsh treatment.

No longer were the sounds of the shaking table the loudest thing echoing through the alley. No, it was the squelching noises of her burying the strap deep inside your sopping cunt over and over. It was your moans and mewls, your begging for more, your chanting of her name like a mantra.

“Fuck, princess,” Sevika huffed, “Making a real mess.”

You heard nothing she said though. All you could hear was the blood roaring in your ears while she all but rearranged your insides and you climbed closer and closer to that peak.

You felt her metal hand slide further up your shirt, clear up to your delicate neck. Those dangerous fingers wrapped around your throat, all while she kept up her pace, railing you without mercy. You knew what was coming. You knew what she was going to do. And she knew you wanted it. Needed it. Yet, she waited. Merely rested those cool digits against your hot, sweaty skin, teasing you.

“Sevika!” you keened, “Please!” Somehow, through your delirium, you managed to bring your hand up to hers and squeeze lightly, urging her to do it. “I- I’m so close, please.”

She brought her mouth to your ear, her breaths coming out fast, ragged, and burning hot. “Any- thing- for- you- baby,” she grunted out between thrusts.

And then, she finally applied pressure, squeezing just enough to leave you reeling, head spinning and pleasure spreading further through every fiber of your body.

“Oh god, fuck me Sevika!” you cried out. But it wasn’t your voice. It was deep, guttural, animalistic, and wildly needy.

Unbeknownst to you, exactly what you had feared would happen, happened. Two people showed up at the end of the alley. Stopped dead in their tracks.

Enforcers.

Two of them. Young and obviously new.

“Hey! Hey ma’am! Do you need help?” one of them called out when they spotted you being pulled by your hair and choked by a large woman with a dangerous metal hand.

Sevika heard them, but she did not stop. She turned to face them, not faltering even for a moment, a sick smirk painting her face.

“Fuck me Sevika! Fuck me! Fuck me!” you groaned repeatedly, still oblivious to anything beyond the mounting pleasure low in your belly.

“That- answer- your- question?” Sevika sneered.

The two men exchanged glances, faces flushing bright red before they muttered a quick apology and scurried off.

Sevika turned back to you, bringing her mouth to your ear one final time. “Baby- can- you- hear- me?” she huffed out.

You did, though just a faint echo. “Yes,” you groaned.

“Can- you- cum- for- me?”

You weren’t exactly in control of your body at that moment, but you could feel your climax approaching, every muscle in your body tensing.

“God, yes!”

“Do it.”

Then, you fell. A choked sob ripped from your throat, her name spoken breathlessly as your entire body felt weightless. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. She fucked you through it, expertly knowing exactly when to slow down and release the pressure on your throat. And had it not been for her augmented arm beneath your chest, you would have collapsed against the table in an exhausted heap. But she held you up, released your hair, and pressed her body against yours while the two of you panted heavily.

It took considerably longer than usual for you to come down from your high, body thrumming and singing in post-orgasmic bliss. When you finally did, you realized Sevika had wrapped both her arms around your torso, keeping you upright and your back held tightly against her chest.

Fuck.

But good god the strap still sat inside you at that crazy angle, and you desperately needed to sit down. Your leg muscles screamed from being overworked.

Who knew standing still while being fucked silly took so much leg work?

You knew. That was certainly not your first time with Sevika. And it certainly wouldn’t be your last.

“Sevika,” you huffed, “I- I need to sit down.”

“Gonna have to pull out.”

“I know.” Even still, you dreaded that part every time.

Sevika carefully lowered you until your forearms rested on the table again. Then, with her hands on your hips, she slowly pulled out.

“Damn princess,” she said in awe, “You made a real fucking mess.”

“I doubt it’s all mine,” you said through gritted teeth, the withdrawal of her strap both overstimulating and leaving you feeling empty.

“Mmm,” she hummed, “Think you’re wrong.”

After she slipped fully out, you noticed her step up beside you in your periphery. You turned your head to find her proudly displaying her very slick-covered dildo. And her very saturated pants.

Your heavy-lidded gaze drifted up to her face.

Her dark lips curled into an absurdly haughty smirk.

“Real proud of yourself, huh?” you asked with a roll of your eyes.

She said nothing, just drew those lips even higher. Lips you were dying to have on you while you finished recovering.

“I’m not so sure I can stand right now,” you admitted sheepishly, cheeks heating with embarrassment. That would certainly fuel that ego even more. Sure enough, she grinned wide enough to reveal teeth. Little did she know that from that angle it gave you a perfect view of her tooth gap.

Fucking cute.

“What are you grinning about?” she asked before bending down to pull your pants back up.

“Nothing,” you lied, but your tone easily gave that away.

She gave your ass a good swat, and even with your pants providing some protection, she still nailed it hard enough to pull a startled yelp from you.

“Should make you clean this up with that mouth of yours,” she threatened as she stepped out of the harness.

“You aren’t serious are you?” Had you been back at your shared place, you would have gladly done so. But you were not about to get on your knees in that dirty ass alley.

Her chuckle echoed down the alley while she wrapped her arm under yours and hauled you upright. “Bet you’d do it if I told you to. Wouldn’t you?”

You were about to tell her to fuck off when the words suddenly disappeared from your mind. She’d carefully spun you around to hold you tightly against her body. Her smirk had softened into one that you knew meant she was admiring you. You rested your hands on her chest, just beneath her shoulders, eyes flitting between hers and those soft, dark lips.

“Look at that,” she said softly, her voice raspy, “Fucked you so good you cried.”

Your eyes widened for a moment. You hadn’t even realized it had happened until you felt her wipe the wetness away from your cheek with her thumb.

“Such a pretty girl,” she said even softer.

Your heart damn near leapt from your chest.

You wanted so desperately to stay like that, with her holding you so close and just staring down at you like you were the only person on the planet. However, your legs disagreed, and she was only making them weaker.

“I really need to sit.”

She chuckled and helped you over to one of the chairs. After taking a seat herself, she guided you to straddle her lap, facing her.

You smiled at her. ‘Dopey’ as she would so lovingly call it. But in reality, it was more of a love-drunk, bashful sort of little smile. You were crazy about this woman, beyond just the wild sex like the two of you had just enjoyed. Especially when she wrapped her arms around you and caressed your lower back with both metal and flesh fingers, all while wearing a smile you think could have arguably been her own flavor of love-drunk, or dopey.

With your arms draped over her shoulders, you let your forehead rest against hers. Both of you were covered in a fine sheen of sweat but neither of you could have cared less. You both simply grinned at one another, relishing in the calmness of the other’s breath. The rise and fall of your chests.

“So is this the plan?” you asked after a moment. You felt Sevika’s forehead shift against your own as she raised a brow. “We collude and cheat our way through each game and then fuck each other stupid afterward?”

She chuckled, her chest shaking against your own and your smile grew wider.

Gods did you love her laugh.

“No, I don’t think so, princess.”

Your expression turned crest-fallen. “Why not?”

“ We are not going to fuck each other stupid. I will be fucking you stupid.”

“Oh of course. My bad,” you replied with a roll of your eyes. “Cause clearly I could never fuck you so good.”

She simply smirked.

Snarky son of a-

“I will admit that mouth of yours is pretty good.” Her gray eyes dropped to your now upturned lips for a moment, then back to your eyes.

“Really?” You admit I’m good at- well- giving you head?” you asked, your cheeks flushing.

“Mhm. Just not that good,” she teased.

“Oh, here we go. Can’t just say something nice, can you?” you asked, pulling back this time as you rolled your eyes dramatically.

“No more than you can stop running that mouth,” she sneered.

Before you could retort, she slipped her metal hand behind your head and pulled you in for a kiss. Your lips parted in a soft sigh, and you thought for sure she’d take the opportunity to dip her tongue inside, but instead she just parted her own lips and pulled you closer to her chest. Her nose rubbed alongside yours, soft lips pressed so gently to yours. It made your heart flutter. Amazed you with how she could go from fucking you so wildly to teasing you and then to giving you such tender affection. Blew your damn mind. In the best way.

When Sevika finally broke the kiss, you couldn’t help but whine at the loss, but you still felt a smile creep across your face when you saw the adoring little smirk she wore for you.

“After this next game, let’s head home and properly clean you up, hm?”

“Okay.”

Wait. Next game. Oh god.

You two just fucked in the alley and… didn’t you hear somebody else then?

Oh fuck.

“What?” Sevika asked, apparently having noticed your wide eyes.

“Did- Did someone catch us fucking here?” you asked quietly.

“Not just someone,” Sevika chuckled, “Two young enforcers.”

You couldn’t decide if that was more funny or horrifying. “What- What did they do?” you asked in awe.

“Asked if you needed help. Apparently thought you were in distress,” she sneered.

Oh god.

“And what did you tell them?” You asked the question, but you weren’t so sure you wanted to hear the answer.

“Nothing.”

“What?!”

“You told them yourself.”

You searched your memory banks for a moment, brows furrowed in concentration while she simply smirked at you. “I did not say anything to anyone.”

“Oh, you had a lot to say, princess.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm, how did it go again?” Sevika hummed.

Fucking faker.

“Sevika,” you chastised, “What the hell did I say?”

Sevika’s smile curled higher, and you knew you didn’t want to hear whatever she had coming.

“Oh Sevika. Oh Sevika fuck me! Fuck me!” she replied in the most cringe-worthy, shrill, mocking tone. Her smirk just grew the moment your lips down-turned. “Don’t worry baby, you didn’t really sound like that.”

Thank god.

“No, you sounded like a damn animal. Growling– deep and low. Thought you were going to sprout fur.”

“Fuck you, Seivka. I did not,” you pouted, but something told you that even though she was toying with you, part of it was actually true. Your stomach flipped and you swallowed hard. Had you really acted like that? In front of two… enforcers?

“You sure did,” she sneered.

Good god, if it weren’t for that twinkle in her eye, that pure amusement mixed with adoration, you’d have hauled off and smacked her right there. Instead, you just sat on her lap, cheeks burning red hot, arms across your chest, and pouting like a petulant child.

“C’mon now baby, no reason to be mad,” she cooed.

For a moment you thought she’d just mock you more, but to your surprise she gently took your chin between her thumb and forefinger, guiding you to face her. Her smirk had softened, making it harder for you to be mad at her. Then she really drove that home.

“You think I don’t like seeing you like that– so lost in your pleasure? Every little sound you make is music to my ears, baby. Don’t ever be ashamed of enjoying yourself.”

Your pout turned into a small smile.

Her eyes fell to your lips. Her own lips tugged further at the corner, then pulled you in for a short, but tender kiss.

Any remaining embarrassment, resentment, anger– it all melted away right then and there. You relaxed into her kiss and rested your hands on her chest.

When she pulled back, you both smiled at one another again. One would probably think you two were fucking nuts. Going from arguing and bickering, to fucking nasty, to sweet words, back to the snark followed by another round of mushy shit. And honestly, you two were crazy. But you were crazy about each other.

“Let’s gather up our winnings and get ready for the next match, hm?” she suggested.

You nodded in agreement and slid off her lap. As you bent down to pick up your coin bag, a thought popped into your head. “So what did the enforcers do when they heard that?”

“Apologized before running off brighter red than even you get.”

You both had a good chuckle at that.

“Serves them right, nosy fuckers,” you laughed.

That was how most of your subsequent games played out over the following few weeks. The two of you stealthily colluded and cheated your way through each match. Occasionally a fight broke out, usually involving someone calling you out on cheating, but the two of you easily brought each one to an end, and never had either of you actually been caught. But one thing that did take place after each and every game was you two fucking each other’s brains out. Sometimes you made it back to the privacy of your shared place, but more often than not you two did the deed right where the games took place.

And the two of you milked damn near every man and woman of the Undercity dry. To the point you two had to be one of the richest in all of Zaun. Or at least the Lanes. So without any further competition in the depths of the Undercity, you and Ran came up with a new plan.

Piltover.

CH3>>

#arcane #sevika #arcane sevika #sevika x reader #arcane sevika x reader #fanfic #honey writes #ran #arcane ran

87 notes · View notes