#also not sorry for that when it comes out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kazumist · 3 days ago

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SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him.

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent.

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question.

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries.

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays.

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment.

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks.

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with.

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.”

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?”

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it.

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant.

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies.

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies.

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?”

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off.

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.”

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why.

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne.

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place?

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.”

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this?

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him.

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago.

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said.

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to).

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you.

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t.

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that.

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know.

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late.

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you.

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now.

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.” zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

#( writings )#love and deepspace #lads #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lads zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #l&ds zayne #zayne #x reader

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russo-woso · 2 days ago

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First match || Alessia Russo x reader

Request | Masterlist

Summary Bubba has her first match

-> Part of the A New Adventure universe

When the date came through for the beginning of the season, you and Alessia went a bit… crazy.

And no it’s not the beginning of the season for the two of you, instead it was the beginning of the season for Florence.

Wren and her teammates were old enough now to start playing in a youth league.

It was something you and Alessia had been dreaming of since you found out you were having a baby.

With the two of you being footballers, your baby was bound to have some kind of sporting gene, and like you suspected, Florence ended up being a football lover.

She jumped up and down with excitement when you told her she’d be playing her first match in only a matter of weeks.

It was big deal, your bubba’s first match, and you’d prepared for it for a long time but nothing could have prepared you for Alessia’s reaction.

“We’ve got to go.” Alessia had said once you’d told her.

“Where?”

“To sports direct. She needs new boots, new gloves, shin pads, everything bubba could need.” Alessia rambled, running to put her shoes and coat on.

“Lessi, baby, calm down. She’s got all that stuff.”

“I got boots, mummy, look.” Florence pointed out, pointing the predators next to her kit bag that was lying around due to Florence having training later that day.

“I know, bubba, but you’ve got to have the best gear.”

“Less…”

“Nope, come on, let’s go.”

Despite you and Alessia being strikers, Florence had an undoubtedly incredible talent in goal.

Which lead you to standing in front of the glove section at sports direct.

“I want the ones auntie Mary wears.” Florence said, holding the pair of puma gloves in her hands.

“Wren, me and mama have sponsors with adidas, you can’t wear puma.” Alessia explained, handing a pair of adidas gloves to Florence.

“No, I want auntie Mary’s gloves.” Florence wailed, stomping her foot in anger.

“Hey! Wren you don’t stomp your foot.” You told her

“Sorry, mama.” The four year old apologised, her bottom lip trembling as her eyes welled with tears.

“Let her have them. She’s a four year old girl and the gloves are pink, they’re clearly the ones she’s gonna pick.” You whispered to Alessia

“Wren, bubba, do you really want auntie Mary’s gloves?”

“Yes!” Florence exclaimed, her face brightening up as the following words left Alessia’s mouth.

“You can have them.”

“Thank you, mummy.” Florence said, jumping onto Alessia.

“You’re so welcome, bubba.” Alessia whispered, holding Florence close. “Now which boots do you want?”

“The ones auntie LeLe wears.”

“The Nike ones?”

“Yes!”

“That’s even worse…”

After a very expensive shopping trip, and lots of preparation, the day of the match was finally here.

You and Alessia were bundled in layers as you braved the cold around you.

Florence had woken the two of you up at six o’clock, jumping on your bed full of excitement.

You couldn’t stay mad at her for long. One look at her blue eyes and the anger was gone.

You had gotten her ready in her kit, getting emotional as you looked at her.

Her shirt was far too big for her and although she was still small, she had a confident look on her face.

Alessia quietly entered the room, wrapping her arm around your waist as you both looked at your daughter.

Alessia also had tears in her eyes, clearly just as emotional as you were.

“Mummy, mama, why you cry?” Florence asked

“You’re growing up so quickly, bubba. Can you not just stay this small?” You told her, kissing her head as you enveloped her in a hug.

“Mama, I’m a growing girl. I got to grow. I always be your bubba though.”

That just made you burst out into tears.

Florence wrapped her arms around your’s and Alessia’s legs whilst Alessia hugged you.

The three of you had stayed hugging for a moment or two before the realisation that you’d be late hit.

When you got to the pitch, Florence started sprinting to her teammates, not even saying goodbye to the two of you.

Alessia took your hand in hers as you walked towards the other parents.

Greeting them with a smile, you soon started a conversation about how nervous you were for the team’s first game.

The conversation soon stopped when about thirty voices were heard behind you.

Turning around, you were met with all the Arsenal girls plus a few other friends from the England squad or passed teams.

“What’re they all doing here?” You whispered to Alessia

“I mentioned Wrens first game to Kyra and it spread throughout the team.” Alessia explained

You’d mentioned it to a few close teammates and friends, just a few - Tooney, Lotte, and Mary - and promised to film clips for them but what you didn’t expect was for the whole team to come.

“What’re all you lot doing here?” You asked with a smile, hugging everyone as they focused on the pitch - attempting to spot the future lioness.

“We’ve come to watch our favourite keeper, no offence Daph.” Leah said, looking towards Daphne who just smiled at the comment.

“What about me though? I thought I was your favourite keeper.” A voice exclaimed

“Mary? Why are you here?” Alessia questioned, hugging Mary tightly before Mary hugged you.

“I couldn’t not see my mini me play her first game.” Mary told you, waving at Florence who had spotted her auntie Mary straight away.

“Auntie Mary!” Florence screamed, running and jumping into Mary’s arms.

“Hi, mini keeper. Oh my, look at your gloves!”

“Your gloves, auntie Mary.”

Alessia rolled her eyes as the topic arose again - it being a sensitive topic in your household.

“Mummy doesn’t like them, but I love them!” Wren exclaimed

“Wren, bubba, you need to go warm up. It will be kick off soon.” You reminded her as Mary put her back on the floor.

Both you and alessia crouched down to be in line with your daughter.

“Me and mummy are so proud of you, Wren.” You whispered as you hugged her.

“You’re going to do so well, bubba.” Alessia told her, kissing her head.

As Florence ran back into the field, cheers were heard from the sideline that was entirely made up of the Arsenal squad.

You and alessia smiled, looking at all your daughter’s aunties who had turned up to watch her first game.

Florence was so loved and If it wasn’t obvious before, it was definitely obvious now.

Both teams were ready now, everyone in their correct positions.

Just before the whistle blew, you watched Florence take seven jumps.

“Lessi, look.” You pointed to Florence

“I’m gonna cry.” Alessia said, her voice breaking as tears welled in her eyes - the moment already being overwhelming but seeing that was the cherry on top.

The whistle blew and the game soon kicked off.

“Am I late? Did I miss it?” A Manchester accent shouted

“Tooney! You came from Manchester?”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world? Where is she?” Ella asked as the two of you pointed to Florence stood in goal, her little face full of concentration.

“Go on, Wren!” Ella cheered, her voice echoing around the field.

“Auntie Tooney, too loud!” Wren scowled

“That told you.”

“You were incredible out there, bubba!” You said, picking wren up as she walked over after the game.

“A clean sheet and player of the match? I must be a good coach.” Mary said, fist bumping Florence as alessia swooped her up into her arms.

“My bubba played her first game!”

“Mummy, I’m not a baby!”

“You’ll always be mine and mamas baby. Even when you’re thirty.”

“Even when I’m a lioness?” Wren asked

“Even when you’re a gunner and lioness. Me and mama will always be your biggest fan, cheering you on in the crowd.”

“You’re going to be England future star, bubba.”

Florence smiled, a glint in her eyes as she imagined herself in goal at Wembley.

“If you can dream it, you can do it, baby.” You told her, kissing her cheek.

“I’m going to play at Tottenham.” Florence revealed - the Tottenham Hotspur stadium being one of the only stadiums she can remember.

“I’m sorry, what did you say, Missy?” Leah asked, her eyes wide.

“Tottenham!”

“We need to sit and have a chat.”

#woso #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #alessia russo #alessia russo fluff #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader

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beatlblog · 2 days ago

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#ringo be like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️lol (via cocaineskinny909)

#and Paul's little elvish giggle like the fucking Pillsbury dough boy (via monkberryfields)

#those two being annoying as always#paul over there twirling his hair and giggling#girl. you’re in an interview (via longing4yesterday)

#in front of the whole press????#embarrasing (via slutty-oranges)

the whole entire press

#mom and dad leaving the kid to answer the phone. HURRY UP JOHN COME BACK RINGO DOESN'T KNOW! (via mylonghairedladyy)

#ringo could have bashed their heads together if he wanted to and he didn’t. that’s bravery! (via oneafter909)

#I would hatttteeeee them if I was ringo (via slegastagirl)

#ringo is our strongest soldier (via jarsfullofstarrs)

#god#they should've been killed for this#how did their friends DEAL WITH THIIIIIIIIS (via repressedgaymer)

#oh they're so annoying#like I'm sorry is this interview interrupting ur conversation (via saturn-iidae)

#can't keep his hands off of him#ringo you can hit them with the table on their heads and I'd support you (via ringosmistress)

#some times i want to strangle them#but ringo is so funny here#he just acts like nothings happening (via ringo-starrdust)

#TALKING BEHIND RINGO IS CRAZY (via kickittothekerbe)

#pda in the middle school hallway ass mfs (via therealestwizard)

#lmao ringo calling john OUT (via origami-money)

#silly#but ringo needs to clock them (via deadmornings)

george certainly is

#the streets are asking you to keep some space for jesus 🙏🏽 (via sohardlovingyou)

#Chalk and Cheese at it again 🙄#Guys do you think John had something important to say to Paul that couldn’t wait#or did he just manifest the moment so that he could hear Paul’s cute little giggle and press their foreheads together? (via didwemeetsomewherebefore)

#them#so secretive and for what (via alwaystoreturntome)

#get a room (via 70snasagay)

#ringo looks so sick of them 😭😭😭 (via youvejustbeen-quattroed)

#ringo looks disgusted 😭 (via pinketine)

#I just know Ringo and George where tired of them (via monkeytime333)

ya THINK?

#Look dudes I know ya had to do a lotta press interviews#but Ringo is not a wall! (via shinygoku)

#yes#ringo#yes you have the rightto punch them#we all are jealousof their relationship#and they are speaking when george does#you have the right (via unburstedbubble)

#are all boybands like this? some day I will have to dive into the Lennon and McCartney lore (via inalltheirgorgeouscolors)

#no because hold on a Michael Owen#the way Paul leaned in as soon as he saw John#I can NOT handle this#and they way they were basically face to face has me dead#Holy Spirit and all the rest of it#oh wow (via nufc-carraville)

Ringo’s disapproving side-eye 💀 (via epistolaryfairy)

#the suppressed smile after getting paul giggling.....punchable (via paulpropaganda)

#the fact that you can still hear john call him (via pioggia-latte)

#and ringo annoyed with them (via midnightblueiris)

Ringo:😅excuse me? (via indefiniteluv)

#they are soooooooo#la parejita de atras se me separa (via sansaren)

#LICHERALLY bypassing Ringo (via johns-prince)

#SOOOOOO ANNOYING U R ADULTS (via beatlestheirmeatles)

George is unproblematically chilling over there on the right like 😎 (via crashing-a-jeep)

#for all the tragedy that comes with loving them we also are really lucky bc how is this real lol (via sohardlovingyou)

they're so annoying....... like ur in the middle of an interview.....

#they're the annoying couple in ur class that the teacher separates but they keep talking over you #poor ringo poor george #<- prev #beatl video #28.10.24

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postracehair · 2 days ago

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fracture

max verstappen x reader | 3.5k

max breaks his wrist during the first week of the off-season.

cw: max breaks his arm, r is a bit rattled, some blood, a naked shower, intimacy, mentions of sex

a/n: c'mon. you know he'd be so annoying. good thing we love him. [i wrote this before the season ended and then...never posted it. so, here, have it before we start all this shit over again in a few weeks.]

You are not there when it happens.

You're asleep, actually, curled up on Max's couch with the cats while he enjoys the first week of the off-season. The celebrations have ended and there is a great deal of work to be done in the next few months, but everyone gets a little bit of respite.

Vacation will come after the holidays. That's the plan, anyway. The last few days have seen you in Monaco, mostly inside Max's place. Just spending time together, relaxing, watching movies, rumpling his sheets. Today, though, he and Danny decided to go on a world-class-athlete-level bike ride.

Which is why you're on the couch. They've been gone all day and you don't expect Max to get home until later. You ran errands, cleaned a little, and then took an afternoon nap.

As you rouse from it, you fumble for your phone to check the time. The screen lights up and you're greeted with --

35 texts. 4 missed calls.

"What the hell?" you mutter, sitting up and opening everything.

DR: sorry for the three calls don't freak out but i think max broke his arm

DR: he says you're probably napping but i'm going to document this for when you wake up

DR: he's fine but yeah that shit is fucked

DR: he says not to tell you he fell off his bike but he fell off his bike

DR: he braked for some animal in the road and went over his handlebars

DR: oh he also scraped his face but he's still pretty, don't worry

DR: his palms are fucked though which is why he's not texting you

DR: we're on the way to the hospital, btw

DR: you're gonna be so pissed when you wake up

It goes on like that. Daniel, to his credit, has given you a play-by-play of the whole situation. You've only been asleep for about an hour and based on the time stamps this started right after you fell asleep.

You get up as you read, grabbing your things and trying to find your shoes as you read. You need to -- you need to go and be wherever they are. You need to help. Heart racing, chest tight, you need to be near Max as soon as possible, even though Danny said he's okay. If this was you, Max would already be there. God, why did you take a nap?

According to the texts, they got to the hospital and he was seen immedietly, x-rayed, and bandaged up. Broken right wrist, Danny had said. He's pissed more than anything.

You're about to call him back when your phone rings in your hands.

"Danny," you say as soon as you accept it.

"Oh, thank fuck," Daniel exclaims. "I thought I was going to have to surprise you in person with the whole thing."

"I'm about to leave, just give me 15 minutes to get there--"

"No, no, no," he interrupts you. "He just got discharged. I'm bringing him home."

You stop in your tracks, one foot shoved halfway into your sneaker. "Really?"

"Yeah, we'll be there in like, 20 minutes?" You can hear Max saying something in the background. "He wants to talk to you," Danny sighs. "Mate, you'll see her soon--"

He's cut off and there's some muffled noises and then Max is saying your name.

"I'm fine," he says. "I only made him tell you so it wasn't a surprise when I came home."

"Max," you sigh, shoulders creeping away from your ears at the sound of his voice. "I'm so sorry, I was asleep!"

He laughs. You feel a bit weepy, which is both an overreaction and cathartic. "Good," he says. "The whole experience has been a pain in the ass."

"You're coming home now? Are you in pain?"

"Eh," he says, dragging out the sound. "They gave me something while they set it so I don't feel it much. Daniel says we'll be home soon. Oh, hold on --" There is some muttering, Danny's voice in the background. "Okay, I'm going to give you back. See you soon, liefje."

"Okay," you say softly.

"Be there in a flash!" Danny says brightly. "Seriously, don't worry."

You hang up and just stand in the hallway, at a loss. Something bad happened to Max and you weren't there. It feels wrong. Not that he's in poor hands with Danny -- quite the opposite. He's probably the only person aside from yourself that you'd want there for Max in a crisis. But, god. You wish you had been there.

The cats weave around your ankles as you pace, waiting for Danny to call or for the door to open or, anything at all to happen. Your mind is running a million miles a minute. Objectively, it's the best time for Max to break something. There isn't even a car for him to test right now and he had at least another week of time off before needing to go back to Milton Keynes. This might throw a wrench in your holiday plans but you couldn't care less about that. How long will he be in a cast? You assume he's in a cast. What kind of help will he need? Will you be enough to provide it? What if he --

Noises in the hall make you freeze and then you hear Danny's voice. You bolt to the door, unlatching the locks and pulling it open. You're greeted with the sight of the two of them -- Danny looking down at Max's keys in his hands, both of their backpacks on his back. They've both changed out of whatever ridiculous bike outfit they must have been wearing for the ride, but you devote your attention to your boyfriend.

You can see the bandages on Max's knees and forearms where he must have scraped himself up on the road. His wrist -- it's in a black cast that runs the length of his forearm. He cradles it to his chest in a sling they must have given him and then you make your way to his face. A few scratches along one cheek, hair a mess, mouth drawn into a frown. A frown that relaxes slightly when you meet his gaze. Your eyes well with tears.

"Max," you breathe. He steps in front of Danny and meets you in the doorway, his cast-free hand cupping your face through the bandages on his palm.

"I'm fine," he says. "You're looking at me like I'm in a coma."

"Sorry," you whisper. "I just --"

He tugs you to him gently, pressing your face into his neck and rubbing your back. You try to be careful of his arm as you breathe deep and will yourself not to actually lose it.

"Guys, can we at least go inside?" Danny asks.

Max huffs and you pull away. He drags his thumb under both of your eyes but doesn't comment on the dampness he finds there. "Inside, liefje."

Danny drops Max's stuff and passes along the documents from the hospital. He's quite the personality but he's all business when he needs to be. "Pain killers in his bag. Call me if you need anything, guys."

You step away from Max long enough to throw your arms around Danny. "Thank you," you whisper. "For looking after him." For calling. For bringing him back to me. For doing what I should have been there for.

He chuckles. "Alright," he says. "Max should break something more often."

Once Danny leaves, it's just the two of you. Max has settled on the couch, head leaning back into the cushions.

"Come sit with me," Max calls. "God, I forgot how much I hate hospitals."

His eyes are closed and he holds his arm gingerly. It's not the first time you've seen him injured -- you've been at his side in the medical tent before after watching him careen into a wall at 190mph. And yet, right now, you're still so upset.

You settle into the cushions on his left side and just watch him.

"I'm sorry," you say again. Max's eyes open. "I can't believe I was asleep when Danny called."

Max shakes his head. "What would you have done?"

"I could have come to get you and take you to the hospital, or just met you there, or--"

He puts his hand on your knee. "Come on," he says. "Don't be silly."

How do you explain it to him? How do you tell him that something happening to him feels like it happened to you? That not being there feels like a personal failing?

"Will you tell me what happened?"

He sighs and you pull his palm from your leg to hold it in your hands.

"It's stupid," he grimaces. "You don't need the details."

"Max."

He folds. Other people in his life have called this your superpower -- Max's will is iron clad. It is very difficult to get him to do something he does not want to do. But one word from you, one soft look, one gentle touch, and he often relents. It's like you can peel back that layer of him that has hardened out of necessity. To protect himself and his heart, to make sure he's taken seriously, to stop things from hurting.

It's like you remind him that it's okay to feel, even when it's hard.

"Daniel summed it up," he grumbles. "We were biking down a hill outside the city and something ran out into the road in front of me. I stopped. Or tried to, at least." He mimes squeezing the breaks, fingers curling in towards his bandaged palms. You stroke his unbroken wrist with your thumb.

"And you went over," you finish.

"And I went over. Got my knees, my forearms, my hands. My wrist, obviously. Just landed badly."

You reach for his face ever so gently, dragging the pad of your thumb over the shallow scrapes on his chin, his cheek. He allows it, knowing that you need to touch him to be sure he's okay. Whenever he has a crash on track you have trouble letting him out of your sight for hours. You just need to look at him, feel him warm and alive under your hands.

"I'm going to write a letter to your helmet manufacturer," you say, not entirely kidding. You slide your hand over his temple and into his hair. It's dirty, you can feel it, but you cradle his skull all the same. "Thank them."

He laughs once, amused with your sincerity. "I need to shower," he says. "But I can't get this wet." You finally direct your attention to his broken wrist, the entirety of his forearm and hand encased in the cast under the sling.

"Does it hurt?" you ask again. Max would tell anyone else off for badgering him so, but he keeps his face soft and reassures you.

"It's strange," he says. "I'm sure I'll feel it later."

"Did it hurt?" you whisper. "When you broke it?"

You know that Max has felt a great deal of pain in his life. His day job requires it -- physical, mental, emotional. He knows how to handle it and get over it. But he's also honest with you, always.

He wrinkles his nose. "It wasn't nice," he confesses. "I knew right away."

You grimace. In the silence, you match your breaths to his and just sit together for a little while.

And then Max's stomach growls.

"Whoops," he says, grinning crookedly. Still an athlete, still a boy with a fast metabolism. You can't help but laugh.

"How about this," you begin, unfolding yourself from the couch and standing in front of him, hands on your hips. Max looks up at you like you're the best thing he's ever seen. "I order some food and then we get you showered while we wait for it. Let the scrapes breathe and keep your cast dry, then we eat and watch a movie and go to bed. Okay?"

"We get me showered?" He sounds skeptical.

"You think you can wash your hair on your own?"

He smirks. "I can do a lot with one hand."

You roll your eyes. "So you're turning down an opportunity to shower with me, is what I'm hearing."

Max gets himself off the couch and rests his palm on your hip. "No," he says softly. "I'm not that stupid."

He kisses you lightly and heads for the bathroom.

"I guess we can wrap it in a plastic bag, or something?" you call after him. It takes a few minutes of opening and closing cabinets for you to find one. You put in a delivery order and make your way to the bathroom. Max has already turned on the shower and you find him shirtless and peeling off his bandages in in front of the mirror.

"Let me do that." He doesn't put up much of a fight, not even wincing when the tape pull at his skin. You see the gashes on his forearm, the raw skin of his palms. "Arm, please." The plastic bag goes around his cast and you tie it at his elbow.

"You planning to wash my hair while wearing your clothes?" Max asks with a straight face.

You stare at him, trying to seem unimpressed. He breaks first, mouth pulling up at one corner before he shucks off his soft shorts and briefs in one go. He pecks you on the cheek and gets in the shower, still smirking at you through the glass door.

"Alright, alright," you mutter. "So dramatic."

You feel Max's eyes on you as you undress, leaving your clothes on a pile on the floor.

The shower is unnecessarily big but Max does not give you much space. The hot spray is at his back and he keeps his plastic bag-clad arm mostly out of the way.

"Feel good?" you ask. Max sighs but nods. You'll bet he's aching but hasn't admitted it. He turns to the side so you can catch some of the spray, too, fighting off the chill outside the warm water.

"I might fall asleep in here," he mutters.

"That'll be the painkillers, darling," you tell him. "C'mon, get your hair wet."

Max tips his head back. You readjust so that you can card your hands through it. You shampoo him gently, taking your time and massaging his scalp. It's a miracle he stays on his feet, but he does. You hum as you work and Max's breaths get deeper, slower.

"Head back," you say softly. He obeys. You do the same with some of your conditioner because you know he likes how it smells.

This shower feels more intimate than the countless hours you've spend in his bed, tangled up in one another. He's been inside you and yet this feels more vulnerable. He's totally ceding control, trusting you to take care of him. You're naked, slick bodies brushing, always touching whether it's your hands in his hair or Max's own fingers reaching for your skin just to feel.

One time, when you were sick, you couldn't muster the energy to take a shower. Max ran you a bath and washed your hair for you, talking all the while because you asked to hear his voice. It's obvious that you'd do the same for him, as you're doing now. It's just how you love each other -- all the way, all the time. When it's easy and when it's hard.

"Danny was right," Max says, words slurring half from bliss and half the fatigue of the day catching up to him. "I should break bones more often."

You finish rinsing him and just stand there in the spray for a few moments.

"Please, no," you groan, brushing wet strands back from his forehead. "If you want me to wash your hair I will, Max. You don't need to break anything."

His eyes flutter open and find yours. He smiles lazily and you turn off the shower.

"If you say so," he says. "Can we take this off, now?"

Bag removed, skin patted dry, comifes on. The food comes when you're settling Max on the couch with a pillow for his arm. In all likelihood he'll manage a few bites of take out and fall asleep 15 minutes into the movie. But he needs the rest, you think. And besides, he'll have you to watch over him.

It becomes clear remarkably quickly that Max is an awful patient. You sort of knew this -- he's been sick a few times when you're around, but you figured that was just man-disease. Whining, refusing to sit still. This is 10x worse. He won't let you do anything for him until he's proven that he can't do it himself. You consider locking him in your bedroom to keep him from trying to do things he shouldn't do.

Max just wasn't made to sit still.

But you can empathize -- it's frustrating to not be able to do any of the things he really likes to do. Drive, use his sim, even play regular video games. It's a lot of movies and long walks and leg days with his trainer.

And then there's the way he just won't ask for help. That's a Max Verstappen original and you know it gets worse when he's frustrated. You do it too -- everyone does. But Max wants to do everything himself, wants to prove that he can.

You try to sit back and let him work it out. About a week after he comes home with his arm in a cast, he calls your name. You're in the kitchen, staring into the open fridge and wondering if you should order more groceries or just go to the shops yourself.

"You okay?" you call back. "Where are you?"

"Bathroom,"he shouts.

Ah, you think. Here we go.

He hasn't shaved yet. You've always loved when he keeps his facial hair a little longer. You love the feel of it on your skin and how it lightens along with his hair when you're on holiday somewhere nice. It's more likely that he keep it long in the off-season. Hot races are a nightmare with a beard, he's said. It itches like mad.

"Coming," you call.

Sure enough, you find him in front of the sink, razor in hand and frown firmly in place. He makes eye contact with you in the mirror and even though you can feel his annoyance from here, the set of his jaw softens.

"Do you think you could help me shave?" he asks. No lead up, no hem and haw.

"Of course, Max."

You quickly work out that sitting on the counter next to the sink while he stands between your knees works best. His broken wrist hangs at his side, the other hand resting on the counter next to your leg.

You lather him up, carefully applying the white foam of his shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin, his neck. He's got a fancy razor, one that will probably make it hard to cut him. Still, you feel the way he's basically handed you a blade and asked you to use it on him. In so many ways it's one of the most intimate things you've ever done. Even more than the showers you've had this week, just chatting and washing his hair.

"I'll be careful," you say softly.

"I know." He tilts his chin up, showing you his neck. "Go on, then."

It's quiet work. You're focusing hard and Max seems content to allow you. Stroke after stroke, rinsing the razor in the sink. You keep one hand at the base of this throat as the other works, gliding it over his skin. Cheeks, jaw, upper lip. Chin, neck.

"I like your beard, you know," you say when you're almost done. He waits until you're rinsing the razor again to reply.

"I do," he says, smirking. "You aren't quiet about it."

The last patch comes off as easily as the rest and you grab a damp towel to clean the rest of the shaving cream. Max appears to have relaxed enough to become pliant, leaning into your touch as you finish. He lets you rub moisturizer into his cheeks, eyes fluttering closed. His hand ends up on your leg, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thigh.

"Cheeky," you mutter. He smiles, boyish and easy. You take your time, pleased that he's letting you, but also because you could touch him forever. "Schatje," you whisper, trying to make it sound like it does from his lips. "All done."

Max doesn't move. You frame his face with your hands and lean in until your lips touch. You feel his smile against yours, but he dutifully tilts his head to deepen the kiss. His freshly shaved skin is so soft. You've kissed thousands of times by now, but you can never get enough of him. The way he responds to your every move, meeting your pressure with some of his own. Your tongue with his, swallowing your moans and giving you his own like a gift.

It's Max who pulls away, dragging his lips over your cheek.

"Dankje," he whispers. It means more than that, you know. From Max, it means thank you for dealing with me, for taking care of me, for loving me.

He doesn't think any of that is easy for you. But he's wrong. It's the easiest thing in the world.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 x reader #mv33 #f1 fanfic #my writing #fic: fracture

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nnight-dances · 3 days ago

Text

PICTURE YOU

PAIRING: karina x fem!reader (reader has periods)

GENRE: fluff, smut (explicit, but not too much?)

TROPES: karina comes back home with a bob and you go crazy essentially. also yeah this is the same universe as CASUAL

LISTEN TO: picture you by chappell roan

NOTE: lol not me breaking the hiatus with this karina fic on a random friday... but come on you can't blame: just look at her!!! actually lost my mind when i saw the new hair reveal like???? have u considered my feelings??? also yea i guess i just associate my karina fics with chappell roan songs now sorry. also also i have been in a crisis once again trying to figure out if i'm bi or just a lesbian so perhaps that is where this fic came from maybe perhaps! anway, pls enjoy <3

in your defence, you were on your period. and you'd been burn out after the past few weeks straight from hell at college. you'd lost sleep almost every single night and you didn't remember the last time you'd felt the rush of anxiety not be there in your veins. all that to say, you were in a specially fragile mental state when karina came home with a bob.

at first you didn't even recognize her. you'd looked up from your phone where you'd been mindlessly scrolling to take your mind off the stress and then back down, thinking it was weird that a random chick had entered your room. you'd pinned it to be one of karina's friends but as soon as you said karina's name in your head, your neck snapped back up to look at her: "karina?"

the girl burst into laughter at your shocked exclamation, the ends of her hair hitting her neck. "yes, it's me, jagiya. did you not recognize me?" she's still laughing but you feel something like a fainting spell coming on, with the way your vision blurs and your heartbeat threatens to explode.

"jagiya?" karina's voice is speckled with doubt now, crossing your shared room to stand closer to your bedside where you lay. her cold fingertips greeted your bare shoulder, "do you not like it?"

you can't speak for the longest time, just staring back at your girlfriend in utter shock. karina is starting to interpret your silent shock as horror when you finally break the stillness, hand on her jaw bringing her lips to your hungry ones. you devour her, lips overpowering hers as you slip your tongue into her mouth with the kind of force that has karina gasping.

it is her hand at your chest that stops the kiss, her eyes wide with flustered amusement. "i'm guessing that means you like it?"

"rina," your voice is a whisper, so drenched in longing that it surprises your own ears, "you're divine. i don't can handle this." you feel weak all of a sudden, falling to your pillow with a huff, but eyes never leaving karina.

"i'm sorry i didn't think a haircut would get you this worked up," karina laughs, climbing up your bed, shuffling into the space between your legs. "but i'm not complaining. you've never kissed me like a starving woman before."

you groan, "don't tease me. i'm just– look, you're already like the hottest person on this campus and if that wasn't enough of a nightmare, you've gone and gotten yourself a bob. now i'm gonna have to fight off the bitches who didn't know you were gay!"

"did you just say nightmare–"

"yes. i have to live knowing that i've outdone myself with my very first college girlfriend. i'll never reach these heights again."

karina runs a hand through your hair with a smile, "who says you won't always have me?"

you give her an incredulous look, "really? with this bob, it'll only be hours before there's a line of lesbians outside our door begging for your number."

"well, that's too bad," her hand's found its way up your shirt somehow, "i'm taken."

you hum an acknowledgement. then, you sit up to face her, cupping her face in your hands. slowly, you kiss her. longingly. fiercely.

you pull away to rest your forehead against her, your hand busy exploring the new form of her hair. it's thrilling, the way you can access her neck so much easier. your fingertips rest at her strong shoulder and your lips trail their path, lingering at the valley between her jaw and her throat. you place a soft kiss there and then feeling the tremble of her nervous breath, you go in with more bite, leaving a mark.

you feel karina's hand clutching at the material of your shirt, the squeezing a pleasant reminder of the way you were making her feel. "i might just be the luckiest girl to exist," you mumble, making your way down to her collarbones. karina's response is a guttural moan, her hand against your waist pushing you closer to her chest now.

"mhm, there's one way to shoo your fangirls away," you chuckle, admiring the patchwork of blooming bruises on karina's neck. she's flushed, and even better, speechless.

"you're killing me, y/n," karina whines, clawing at your shirt to take it off. you shake your head, stopping her movements.

"no, you're the one that's killing me," you complain, lifting karina's tank top before she can protest. "let me at least show you how you make me feel."

you really do devour karina that afternoon: her toned body spread over your sheets like a dream that you couldn't afford. but it was real. you know because you took your time with her, touching and feeling every inch of her warm body flush against yours: the little hairs on her skin dancing against your hot touch, and the veins running hot to greet your touch.

you've just traversed the landscape of her abdomen when she sits up, eyes blown out with pleasure. "y/n, i think i'm gonna pass out if you keep at it."

you look up from between her legs with a grin, "really? then you've just started to understand how i feel–"

before you can continue your adminstrations, she tugs you up, lips beckoning yours. "let me eat you out," she asks softly as she pulls away from the kiss. and you relish in the sound of her begging you to let her please you, the actual goddess in between your arms.

"as much as i'd love that," you peck her nose, "'m on my period, babe."

"you know i don't care," she starts and then shivers when your hands find the hem of her panties.

"don't worry 'bout me, rina," you assure her, "let me make you feel good today, 'kay?" she nods, coming apart so easily while you talk her through it, showering her with praises like there was no end to it. and you'd do it for the rest of your life. watching karina's skin pulse under your touch and the way her eyes were hooded by her short hair, in the end it was always worth it.

#karina x y/n #karina x you #karina x reader #karina aespa #aespa fics #aespa x reader #yu jimin #yu jimin x reader #karina fics #aespa imagine #karina imagines #karina fluff #aespa fluff #aespa scenarios #karina angst #kpop fic #kpop x reader #kpop imagines

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 20 hours ago

Note

begging on my knees, ripping my skin off for shiu kong ANYTHING <3 ily cinna LMAOO

Bullet for my Assassin

Tags: Shiu x fem!Reader, Toji x fem!Reader, mfm, why choose, kidnapping, murder, dead dove, dark romance plot, you're being used for ransom, Toji and Shiu are morally black in this one.

Synopsis: Your dad is a wealthy CEO of Japan, but he hates you because you were born a girl instead of a boy. Toji and Shiu kidnap you and hold you ransom for money. Things ensue???

An: Hiiiii nepo baby, i know you said shiu kong anything. I hope you don’t mind Toji making an appearance. Also, HAPPY (so very late; i'm so sorry.) BIRTHDAY!!! Look, i gotta be honest. I ran out of inspiration for this fic, so I'm posting it, hoping it will revitalize some of that inspiration for a part two. That being said, let me know if I should make a part two.

Being the daughter of one of the wealthiest men in Japan was actually a death sentence. Since you didn’t have a dick between your legs, you’re obviously less than in the world of business.

Your dad pressured your mom into giving him children to inherit the company, but he didn’t want children. He wanted men to inherit the company. You were just a lowly girl!! How were you supposed to manage a company? Girls clearly didn’t know anything about finance or business. (can you smell my sarcasm)

Ruthless and cold, your father never showed you nor your mother an ounce of love. In fact, he had tried multiple avenues to try and prove that you weren’t his kid. Unfortunately for both of you, you share 23 of your dad’s chromosomes.

His anger was growing worse towards you as you got older and developed your own personality. Everything you did was wrong in his eyes. Even though the company was specifically suppose to go to his kid, your father had been toying with the idea of selling out just so you couldn’t ruin what he had built.

Not that you cared, you thought about how if you were the CEO, you’d burn the company to the ground just to spite his wishes. You’d love to see him turn over in his grave as he watched his baby burn because of his daughter.

You basically lived alone. Your mother had passed a couple of years ago due to strange circumstances, and your father never bothered to come home. There would be no point to socializing with the likes of you.

Your mother’s early death rocked you to your core. For your entire childhood, she was weary and exhausted. Your father directed his anger on her, and she couldn’t help but subconsciously put the blame on you. If only you were a boy.

She did a good job of not showing her true thoughts. She wasn’t a doting or nurturing, but she was there for you. She never raised a hand to you, never raised her voice with you, never called you mean names. That was all you could ask for whenever your dad was so vile towards you. While she wasn’t close with you, she was still your mom, and she was the closest thing to parental guidance that you had. Her death was the beginning of your lonely existence.

The mansion was like a prison for you. Since your dad was so prominent in social media, you had an image to uphold, and he didn’t want you ruining that image. So, he didn’t even give you the chance to interact with anyone outside of the house. The only way for you to escape his claws was to either get married or die, and getting married was impossible when you weren’t allowed to interact with anyone on the outside.

You preferred being alone. The empty quiet feelings was better than the anxiety you got when your father was home. He’d always start yelling at the waitstaff about something so minuscule. He harbored so much anger that the house practically turned sour when he came home.

What was the saying? If you grow up with an angry man in your house, there will always be an angry man in your house. The thought of marrying someone like your dad made you want to gouge your eyes out with a butter knife. Being alone was the best option.

Besides, the waitstaff was nice. They cared for you… albeit from a distance, but they cared. It was known that you received the worst of your father’s anger, so they empathized with you.

The house was particularly quiet late one evening. It wasn’t the normal quiet that gave you a sense of peace. It was eerily quiet, giving you a sense of dread. The sounds of hushed talking and dishes clattering was the usual background noise in the house from the waitstaff, but there was nothing right now… as if it truly was just you in the house.

The alarms would’ve went off if someone entered. Not to mention there’s security posted around the perimeter… unless your father was the reason that it was so quiet… Surely, it was just him. Maybe he sent the waitstaff home for the day?

You carefully slipped out of bed, pulling a robe on over your silk pajamas. Being a CEO’s daughter wasn’t all bad. You received luxury items in exchange for feeling void of any real human connection and your dad’s hatred!

Briefly taking a moment to wonder if you were being one of those dumb characters from a scary movie, you quickly pushed those thoughts out of your head. Your life was more of a tragedy than a horror movie.

Slowly stepping out of your room, the click of your door latching filled the space, and you held your breath for just a moment. Nothing.

You soundlessly walked down the hall. Since you were on the second floor, there was a landing where you could look over the rails to see the bottom floor.

Nothing. No- is that a foot? Is someone lying on the ground. You leaned farther over the wooden railing to see. You were surely mistaken, right? Who was lying on the floor?

The feeling of a hand pressing down on the back of your head. Fingers entangled with your hair as the unknown man gripped you from behind. His other hand was steady on your hip. You were being dangled over the side of the railing by a stranger.

Immediately, you started to thrash against his hold, panicking as you did so. “Let me go!” You shouted, kicking your feet out from behind you to try to get away from him.

Turning your head as much as his hand would allow, you only caught the glimpse of a scar on the man’s lip. He shot you a grin before pushing your body closer to the edge, almost making you topple right over the railing.

“Yeah, princess? Want me to let you go?” His voice was husky, teasing almost. It had a raspy edge to it that sent shivers up your spine as you were now trying to push back against him to get away from the edge.

Your eyes were looking at the drop, wondering if it was better to just fall than to face whatever this man was going to do you. Somethings were worse than death…

You switched tactics, pulling away from him instead of trying to get away from the rail. You were going to topple right over it. A growl of frustration left his lips as he easily yanked you away from the railing. Your body collided with his brick wall of a warm chest.

Taking a chance to look up at him, you immediately regretted it. The perpetrator had black hair that came over his forehead and pretty green eyes that you could get lost in. His lips seemed to permanently house a cocky smirk, and fuck, he was built.

“You must have a death wish, brat.” He scowled at you as if he wasn’t the one who dangled you so close to the edge.

Not bothering to answer his taunts, you quickly started to fight against him, beating against his chest with your hands, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He was massive. You were sure that none of your blows were doing anything to him.

Without any difficulty, the hulk-sized man slung you over his shoulder, securing an arm around your frame. He didn’t even flinch or bat an eye each time you hit him. Your fists did little to his toned back.

Not able to fight your way out, you use your next best defense tool: your voice. “Let me go!” You shrieked as loud as possible. “Let me go! Somebody help!” Tears coated your eyes, and your voice went hoarse from yelling.

“Let me goo~ Somebody help mee~” The man mocked you in an obscene high-pitched tone with a laugh. He had done his homework. Even if you screamed, no one would be coming to save you right now.

Every staff member in the house was deceased, and thank god your dear old dad is so paranoid that he put his mansion in the literal middle of nowhere. There were no neighbors that’d hear you either.

You were completely and utterly alone with the man who was kidnapping you. A deep sense of dread and hopelessness filled your stomach, and you continued to cry — weakly begging for anyone to help you.

The man toned you out rather easily as he carried you down the massive flight of stairs. He used his free hand to flip open a burner phone, and he dialed a number before talking.

“The security system is still down?” His gruff, no-nonsense voice returned to him as if he wasn’t just making fun of you moments prior.

Even though you knew it was likely one of his associates on the phone, you screamed for help. Hot tears coated your cheeks as your voice strained.

A firm smack to your ass jolted you, and your voice caught in your throat. Did your kidnapper really just spank you for misbehaving?

“The girl isn’t hurt. She’s just being dramatic. I’m heading to the pickup spot.” He didn’t let the person on the other side answer before he clopped the flip phone shut, effectively ending the call.

“Gonna get me in trouble acting like that, girl.” The man tsked his tongue, and he continued to effortlessly carry you around to the back entrance of the house.

You finally caught a glimpse of your poor staff members. Your heart lurched in your chest. They had families and lives. Now, they were dead on your floor because of this man.

The man didn’t say another word as you cried. He kept his one arm firmly wrapped around you as he so casually carried you out of the house. The security system and the guards had already been dealt with.

Soon, you unceremoniously shoved into the back of a black tinted car. You struggled as much as you could, kicking and scratching. You even tried to bite the man as he tied your arms behind your back.

“Keep fighting. I’ll hogtie and gag your ass.” He threatened lowly, becoming sick of this game with you. He never quite understood why people fought so hard against him when he clearly held the upper hand. It was useless.

Letting out a small sob, you laid against the backseat of the car. The leather interior felt cold and ruthless as your tears fell from your eyes.

“Come on, Toji. We don’t have all day.” The driver reprimanded as if the man was simply buckling in a toddler and not kidnapping a grown woman.

You flinched from the sound of the driver’s voice. You had been so focused on fighting against the Toji guy that you didn’t even realize there was another man idly sitting in the front seat, puffing on a cigar.

Toji tied your ankles together, but he didn’t hogtie you thankfully. Without saying another word, he slammed the door shut before getting into the passenger side seat.

You felt your heart drop as the car started to move. You had an inkling… you’d never see that mansion again. You just knew it. Even though you hated the very frame that house sat on, you longed for the empty feeling of sitting inside. You’d take the void of living in a loveless home over being taken by two men.

Your stomach churned, and suddenly, you felt ill as you faced the grave circumstances. Bile raised in your throat, and your hands struggled against the ropes that Toji had bound you with. Panic set in. You were going to choke on your vomit while you laid face down in it.

“There she goes.” Toji muttered, tone laced with annoyance before he reached back and pulled your arm so your mouth was hanging over the back seat. You threw up safely into the floor.

“I just got this car detailed.” The driver groaned as he took another puff from his cigar.

“It happens every time without fail. Ya should start puttin’ puppy pads back there or something.” Toji responded as his arm was still reached back, bracing your body.

“Yeah, because that’s not suspicious at all.” The driver responded with a sarcastic tone. It was clear that this wasn’t their first encounter with kidnapping someone. You didn’t even want to think about the implications of that.

Your adrenaline was dropping off, and while you knew you should try and stay awake — try to map out the turns the car made, you were exhausted after emptying your stomach contents into the floor.

Your head rested against the cool leather seats, and a moment later, you were out.

“It’s like fuckin’ clockwork.” Toji commented as he saw you dozing off in the backseat.

“Let me hogtie you and throw you into the back of a car, and we’ll see if you don’t throw up and pass out.” The driver grinned over at him.

“Kinky.” Was all the man responded with.

*** *** ***

The next time you awoke you were bound to a chair in a surprisingly well-lit room. It appeared to be a bedroom. Judging by the overly bland decor, you assumed this was an Airbnb or a hotel. There was no way they could’ve hauled your sleeping body into a hotel without being noticed, so it was definitely an Airbnb. Taking in your surroundings, you flinched as you finally caught a glimpse of the two men standing in your peripheral. They were silently watching you.

“So nice of you to join us, sleeping beauty.” Toji mocked with an easy grin, the scar on his lip flexing upwards. If he wasn’t your kidnapper, you would’ve classified him to be rather handsome in a very rugged sense. He just looked like the type of man who could get the job done.

“I thought we accidentally killed ya.” The driver who was now not driving remarked.

You had to be smarter with your words this time. There was no point in begging to be set free. They had already taken you to god knows where, killed your entire staff, and bound you to a chair. There was no going back for them.

“My dad has money. That’s what you’re after, right?” You bargained, taking a stab in the dark. This didn’t feel like human trafficking. This felt like a hostage, ransom situation. Little did they know, your dad probably wasn’t going to pay a single penny to get you back.

“Clever girl.” The driver grinned. He was also another handsome man with chestnut brown hair and a mustache. He seemed much more calmer than Toji, and he had a capable energy to him. You could tell that he was definitely the ringleader. Toji was simply the muscle behind the operation.

The driver took three slow, calculated steps towards you. He was still out of reach as he crouched down to be at your level. His eyes were dark brown as he carefully exam you.

“If you’re good, I’ll explain how this is gonna work.” The man said lowly. His voice was deeper than Toji’s but not as gravely or hardened. He had a voice fit for radio.

You slowly nodded, tears already sliding down your cheeks out of sheer fear.

“Good girl. Keep that same energy for the camera.” The man purred before you directed your attention to Toji. He was setting up a tripod with a nice Canon camera set up on it. He flicked the lights off, but it wouldn’t be too dark for anyone to see.

Your body started to react before you could even fully process what was going on. You rocked back and forth in your chair while crying, trying to fight against the restraints. Toji clicked the record button, and he pulled two black balaclavas out of his pocket. Throwing one at the other man and slipping one on for himself. Their identities besides their eyes were completely concealed.

The nameless man tied a piece of cloth that worked as a gag around your mouth, and you sobbed harder. This could go so many ways, and you didn’t want to consider all the possibilities. Your mind thinking up the most depraved acts.

Then, the nameless man held a voice distorter up to his mouth, like the ones that were used in horror films. Toji suddenly grabbed your hair tightly with his oversized fist, and he made you look directly into the camera.

The nameless man started the video off by addressing your dad by his full name. “We have your daughter.” He plainly stated, going silent so one of your muffled sobs could clearly he heard.

He went on a spill about the ransom and how it was going to work. They were demanding 10 million dollars to be paid in a week. It had to be paid in person by your dad, or they would mail him your body parts.

You choked out sobs and tried to scream. You were going to die. There was no way you were going to make it out of this situation alive.

Toji’s thumb ever so gently caressed the back of your head. He was still holding your hair tightly, making you look directly into the camera, but he was subtly rubbing small circled into your scalp as if he was trying to subtly soothe you.

Whatever his intent was, it wasn’t working. You strained against the rope and the gag. You cried and tried to beg your way out of this. Finally, the nameless man showed the camera a timer. It was set for 168 hours, and it was steadily dwindling down.

Then, he stopped the recording ominously. “Can’t believe we got that on the first try.” He muttered with a laugh before pulling off his balaclava. He then flicked back on the lights.

You looked at both of the men in a confused manner. They were both so calm and casual after recording a literal ransom video. It was eerie. You hated this feeling of distrust and uneasiness that settled into the pit of your stomach.

Toji ripped off his balaclava, and he promptly untied the gag before picking up the camera off the tripod and walking away.

“Alright doll, you did so good.” The nameless man praised as he crouched back down to be at your level. “I guess that means I gotta tell you how things are gonna work now, huh?”

A sheepish nod later, and he continues, "I'm Shiu, and you already know the other old fucker's name is Toji." He starts, gesturing to Toji who was lazily typing away at a computer with a death glare.

"We're not gonna hurt ya until you give us a reason to. You just gotta be good for us and do as we say, and this will be a breeze." Shiu's tone was steady and lighthearted as if he was talking about the itinerary to a vacation and not your kidnapping.

Tears clouded your vision. Your captors seemed to have thought of all the details but one. Your father couldn't give less of a fuck about you, and he likely wasn't going to pay a dime for your safe return.

"And when my dad doesn't pay you two, then what? You two kill me and mail my body off so you can move onto the next mogul's daughter?" You asked -- tone full of resentment.

"We're not amateurs, darlin'." Shiu grins at you, boldly using his thumb to wipe away a few stray tears from your cheeks. You're still bound, so you're at his whim right now. "Toji's workin' on releasing that video publicly. How could the wealthiest CEO of Japan get away with not paying to have his daughter back safely?"

You pursed your lips together, trying to think rationally. None of this felt real. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Would your dad pay to get you back if he risked ruining his reputation?

If he ruined his reputation, companies would pull their stocks and tank his company. It would be hard for him to form partnerships because other companies wouldn’t want to be associated with him. His perfectly curated baby would come crashing down.

He would have to pay to get you back.

Noticing the gears turning in your head, Shiu patted your hair gently with his oversized palm. “We also got a few other tricks up our sleeve. We didn’t do this on a spur of the moment decision, darling.”

They weren’t two petty criminals looking to make it big. These two men were the real deal. They had the knowledge and precision that it took to commit serious crimes. This probably wasn’t even their first ransom situation.

“Glad to know you plotted my kidnapping perfectly.” You muttered in a self-deprecating tone.

Shiu gave another chuckle as his hand stayed on your head. His touch was warm and unwavering. It had been years since someone showed you affection so casually.

“I’d say you’re in good hands, but…” He grinned at you, ruffling your hair before removing his hand. “You’re in capable hands.” He said before he slowly walked around behind you. “Be honest, darling. If I untie you, are you going to try to run?”

Your eyes lingered on the door of the Airbnb. Would you even make it far if you did run? Would it be worth being tied down for even longer? Your eyes wandered to Toji, who was sat strategically near the door. His gaze was still on the laptop, but you could tell that he could easily catch you if given the chance.

Shiu laughed as he could see the inner turmoil on your face. You really wore your emotions on your sleeve, not hiding that you were weighing the option of running. “You wanna see what’ll happen? Try it, princess.” He dared as his fingers worked to loosen the knots around your hands.

Your body was achy from the precarious position of being tied to the chair. You instinctively stretched, feeling your stiff muscles protest.

You looked back up at Shiu, registering that he was offering you to run. “Go ahead. Go.” He said as he nodded towards the door.

“If you make me run, I’m taking it out on your ass.” Toji grumbled from his position near the door. His green eyes were now glaring at you.

Against your better judgement, you ran. You had to run, even if it was clearly a setup. If you didn't try to get away, then someone would say that you wanted this to happen. You wanted to be kidnapped from your prison.

You barely made it to the door and swung it open before two strong arms wrapped around your midsection, hauling you up as if you weighed nothing.

"Fucking brat." Toji's voice rumbled in your ear as he lifted your body up, pressing your backside against his chest as he kicked the door shut.

Shiu chuckled as he made sure to lock it back. He really just enticed you to run to piss Toji off. He had to keep things interesting after all.

A grunt passed your lips as you were unceremoniously slung onto the plush bed in the room. You tried to kick and fight your way out of Toji's hold, but his hands expertly held you down and forced your arms above your head. You squeezed your eyes shut.

Here it comes... the part where you wish they would've just killed you...

The sound of metal jingling caught your attention, and you hesitantly opened your eyes to see Toji handcuffing you down to the headboard.

As soon as one of your wrists were cuffed and bound, Toji got up off of you. "Until you can learn how to behave and not be stupid." He muttered as he turned his back to you and went back to sit down.

Well, that wasn't what you were expecting.

"Technically-" You spoke up, looking between Toji and Shiu as they watched you with amused eyes. "I was behaving since he told me to run." You pointed out, nodding your head towards Shiu.

"And I told you what would happen if you did run. You're lucky I haven't bent you over my knee yet." Toji countered, crossing his arms over his chest with a lopsided grin.

"Yet-?"

"I haven't decided if I'm going to do it or not, but your smart mouth is pushing me, brat."

You swallow thickly, realizing what you were truly dealing with here. Your eyes leave Toji's figure, and you look up towards the handcuff chaining you to the bed.

You were kidnapped from one prison and brought to another, and yet, a strange voice in the back of your head is telling you that your kidnappers have better intentions with you than your own dad.

"Don't listen to him," Shiu's low voice rumbled, breaking your line of thought. "He's all bark and rarely any bite,"

"He killed all of my staff members," you retort, staring at Shiu with furrowed eyebrows. How could he act like Toji was anything less than a killing machine?

"Touché," was all Shiu responded with as he looked over at you with a relaxed grin.

Toji was back to lounging as he tilted his head back. His adams apple bobbing as he closed his eyes. He wasn't really going to sleep next to the door, was he?

Shiu had walked off out of sight, and you could hear him responding to a phone call.

Moving around on the bed, you figured you may as well get comfortable while you're trapped.

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celtrist · 2 days ago

Text

GOOD END

While I know it's a little late, I needed something to practice watercolor with quickly, and I didn't want to end the little event on a sad note! Kept it vague with the "fin." since this pic could honestly just be normal Alastor haha

So let's give Alastor a happy ending, hm?

The curse is lifted but Alastor still finds it difficult. To go from being on edge from the watchful eyes of anyone who passes him to no one batting an eye is hard to grasp sometimes. Alastor still jots in his notebook the new habits of those he's around, he still checks the time frequently with his trusty pocketwatch, and he still keeps as far away from Vox as he can. However, Alastor sleeps more soundly now.

Everyone was quite aghast when their minds cleared. Charlie tries to constantly make it up to Alastor with gifts and things to do for him, which does the opposite effect due to that being not too dissimilar to what she did when she was obsessed. Vaggie's distrust of Alastor is more prevalent than any sort of affection for him, but she generally tries to keep herself away from Alastor. Her stomach never sits right around him, seeing the subtle frantic gaze of his eyes and knowing it was in part due to her. Due to the traps, the forced dressings. Just the forcefulness of her obsessed half unnerves her as a whole. While she doesn't exactly like Alastor, she also can't stand what she had done to him. She tries to pretend it didn't happen until Alastor confronts her at some point.

Angel Dust tries to stay casual with Alastor but backs off when Alastor clearly needs it. And he pushes others, really just Charlie, to back off when Alastor is looking overwhelmed. Angel is still a bit awkward around Alastor, having the same issue as Vaggie and feeling unwell about drugging him. But unlike Vaggie, Angel is willing to push past it and try to make a new friendship with Alastor if he'd welcome it (or at least acquaintanceship). Husk is definitely left with mixed feelings. He obviously doesn't like Alastor due to the man's treatment of Husk before and after the curse was broken. But he can't help but feel like shit for what he was doing to Alastor when he was obsessed. He tells himself Alastor probably deserved it because of how crappy he treats him and due to how sick in the head Alastor is overall anyway. But it always comes back to the feeling that Husk can't quite absolve his actions. He was the type to despise spiking drinks and to top on it all the other shit Alastor had to deal with? Husk doesn't like it, but he had to admit he was guilty and even sorry for what he did. He doesn't make that known to Alastor though, lest he has more fuel to taunt Husk with. Even if in reality he probably could do with a confidence boost. Husk and Angel also have a better relationship. The thing that made them heated with each other is now the thing they bond over. They each talk out their frustrations of what they did and keep an eye on each other if they see the other falling back to old habits.

Niffty on the surface seemed relatively unaffected. She giggles at what Alastor went through and expressed jealousy about having "all the bad boys" after him. Niffty does dust off Alastor a lot more now. Especially after someone touches him. She also doesn't climb onto Alastor like she used to. She asks him for permission a lot more for cleaning his room, touching him, and so on. Lucifer keeps away even more than Vaggie. He practically lived in his tower. It wasn't until ALASTOR was the one coming to him that Lucifer began actually coming back out. Of course Charlie visited to try and encourage him out, but Lucifer didn't want to even be in the same hallway as Alastor due to the guilt he felt. Due to this, Alastor ended up just coming into Lucifer's room unannounced to escape the others (most notably the too apologetic Charlie). No one would expect him in Lucifer's room, so that's where he went. And since Lucifer HAPPENED to be in his room, Alastor might as well rant about any annoyances he has or vent things out. Needless to say, they actually have quite the companionship now. While they still have gripes with each other, Alastor and Lucifer will willingly stand next to each other. Alastor still is hesitant to go full jabbing mode and does still reel in their fighting quite a bit. A habit that hasn't quite gone away from the curse. Lucifer, on the other hand, while can get into it in the heat of the moment, is a bit hesitant to be harsh with Alastor. Since the curse was lifted, Lucifer went from one of his least favorite hotel residents to the one he probably spends the most time with.

Rosie of course feels just awful about what she'd done. Any lunches done, they either go out or Alastor makes the lunch. She fusses over him still, which always leaves Alastor stiffer than comforted. When she does notice him feeling under the weather, Alastor is very quick to brush it off as nothing in such a way that it clearly indicates it's something. Rosie tries to keep to Alastor's comfort but also is definitely one of the few that isn't particularly afraid to push his comfort zone. Both Valentino and Velvette were annoyed. Valentino was upset that Alastor had the power to make even the moth obsessed with him, and he didn't even GET the chance to have even a peck on the lips from the dumb deer. While Valentino isn't nearly as interested in Alastor, he's not blind- Well, he can see well enough that Alastor is appealing visually. So he's not nearly as disgusted as Velvette about having been obsessed with him. Velvette was disgusted about having been obsessed with Alastor because he's a "dusty bitch" as it were. He's old news, obsolete, and she acted like a fool that anyone could've had an inkling of a chance to see. Disgust and embarrassment sum up her feelings, and she makes it known when she sees Alastor.

Vox... doesn't take it all well. He's frustrated and can't help but blame Alastor as if he had control of the curse. He hates him. And he blames him for the stupid feelings that STILL are there. Everything is so scrambled for him. He feels guilty, but at the same time doesn't. He refuses to feel guilt for Alastor. Even when they were "friends", Vox could remember how Alastor still seemed to think he was above him. But then, Vox had absolutely toyed with Alastor who was more or less isolated. He had wanted to do things that, while he's not exactly opposed of others doing them, he himself wasn't exactly interested in doing. Vox decided it's easier to be mad at Alastor than feel remorse and disgust with himself. When they cross paths, he's very cold to Alastor. He wants to relish how he sees Alastor clutch his staff tighter when they have eye contact, or just Vox being in the same room has Alastor moving closer to anybody else. Like he'd rather take his chances with anybody as long as it wasn't Vox. But when he tries to be pleased, something just isn't clicking and instead his head gets fuzzy and he feels like his insides need to come out. So he gives Alastor very little time of day. Maybe a few words or glances, but overall doesn't even give Alastor a cocky smile or sneer. Just an impassive look.

Despite the curse being gone, there are the occasional lapses. Particularly with those Alastor spends the most time with. All the hotel residents try to keep each other in check, Husk and Angel, for example, catching the other if they're falling back to drugging Alastor. Vaggie might see a dress and buy it, planning a way to put it on Alastor before catching herself and burning it. Charlie will hit her head telling herself to stop the obsessive thinking, sometimes to the point of hurting herself because she CAN'T put her friend through that again. On the rare occasion, it won't be caught in time. Angel Dust has successfully drugged Alastor and not long after went to get help in a panic. Alastor frequently gets more paranoid again about the curse not actually being gone and generally more cagey for a few days, especially around the person who did it. The residents try to help the best they can. These lapses aren't frequent enough to be like an everyday problem but will vary from person to person. Generally speaking, these lapses are luckily pretty short and generally don't get as far as a thought or a small subconscious action.

And despite everything, Keekee still doesn't like him. Something Alastor finds quite funny as well as comforting. While he's grateful for the curse to be gone, it still lingers here and there. And it's done damage to Alastor, he knows this in the way he can't relax, the nightmares that plague him. And sometimes he wished the curse wasn't lifted. That his nightmares and behavior were "still justifiable". That they weren't "unreasonable" now. But Keekee is the same. Disliking to kinda tolerating him when he needs the pity, the same as before. Everyone else in the hotel thinks it's odd that Alastor's smile gets wider when Keekee growls at him as he picks her up, or when she hisses and runs off from him. But they don't question it. It's the least they can do.

Alastor himself despises the pity he sees in their eyes sometimes. He hates the paranoia he still feels about it, the fear that the curse is gone was actually a dream or something momentary. And the lapses don't help much. But Alastor continues on as best he can, trying to play the confident radio demon he's touted about as for all his years. He relishes the fear in people's eyes but falls back on habits like the aforementioned noting down everyone's habits and schedules in his notebook and keeping up with the time. But he also still flirts like he used to when he thinks it's needed and gets embarrassed when it doesn't work or someone points out he doesn't need to do it. He was so used to working around and using the curse to his advantage that now those tactics are kind of pointless. He still has a difficult time taking a stroll and not feeling eyes on him constantly, and can be on edge for a sudden suitor to pop up. But he does relish the lack of attention and adoration when he can get past that anxiety. Alastor often has to talk himself through walking out of his room, assuring himself he wasn't going to get swarmed by unwanted advances. He still has days of isolation and feeling alone, moments of sudden irritation and times where the idea of doing his radio show sounds more unappealing. He has moments of insomnia or refusing sleep, just to avoid any nightmares. This often leads the other residents sort of lead him to bed or let him sleep in their presence (unintentionally by Alastor most of the time). And sometimes Alastor's feelings are overwhelming that he can feel a bit detached and just sits and tries to feel his surroundings to ground himself. He still suffers from the curse in a sense, but he's also become a lot more open to spending time with others in the hotel than before. Willing to have more bonds. He's more playful than before, but does usually keep his distance still. And while he does have a jolt in his posture if he gets hugged or touched suddenly, the stillness does pass not too long after. Alastor, strangely enough, is a lot more empathetic in a sense. He'll still laugh when he sees someone fall down the stairs, but he will also actually help and make sure they're okay. It's more notably seen with the guilt others have. He confronts each of them about it at one point and comforts them, in his own way. He doesn't sugarcoat things and tends to be a bit harsh, but Alastor certainly has a strange level of compassion (if you can call it that) you wouldn't expect from him. This is a more subtle change to him, but still prevalent nonetheless (and one Charlie is very proud about). He doesn't like it being pointed out though and will go out of his way to be awful if it DOES get pointed out. The fear from others has helped Alastor so much in regaining any confidence he may have lost, and is something he thrives with. He probably tries to use fear more than ever as a tactic to get what he wants, especially when he catches himself falling back to previous tactics of flirting. And when he can and under the right circumstances, Alastor is able to relax his muscles and end the day with a genuine smile on his face.

One thing Alastor feels quite dissatisfied with this story is the loose end. He never was able to find the anonymous caller. While it wasn't perfect, Alastor had very few outlets of actual companionship. He had his shadows (whose own sentience were put into a bit of question), Keekee (on the basis of her disliking him), and a random caller. It was by chance really. The phone in his room rang and he happened to answer. And he very quickly (and embarrassingly) became attached when he realized they weren't affected. At least, he figured, due to not actually properly meeting Alastor. So they kept in contact without giving names to one another. But the caller stopped calling at some point, leading to Alastor to just sit by his phone waiting for hours. Not one of his proudest moments, but it was a moment of weakness. As soon as the curse was lifted, Alastor had made it a personal goal of finding this mysterious phone friend. He was positively elated with the idea of meeting them face to face, as phone calls only filled so much of his need for socializing. Alas, the anonymous caller seemed to have disappeared. Alastor keeps looking, but he's not sure if something happened to them or, on the off chance, he had just imagined all the calls. He still takes the time to sit by the phone though. Just in case.

#Shout out to the anon ask that essentially gave the phone friend idea #Forgive me for the description if it's lacking. It's late and doing it sorta last minute #Celtrist #hazbin hotel #hellaverse #cel doodles #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor the radio demon #fanart #hazbin hotel fanart #hellaverse fanart #hazbin hotel keekee #hazbin keekee #keekee #Hazbin Obsession AU #artists on tumblr

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specialgradefckr · 3 days ago

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Catching Strays

Satoru Gojo is rich. Obscenely so.

But he's also busy - too busy to have time to meet someone and go through all the song and dance of dating and having a relationship.

The hookups... even being a certified fantastic top tier lay, it's just not doing it for him anymore.

He wants that connection. The intimacy. The personal knowledge and inside jokes and soft affection that comes with a relationship.

And sure, some of it is on him. He's got a fun personality - jokes and jibes and little remarks that he really doesn't mean badly, but tend to be taken in certain ways.

("That's a lot of words to say I'm an asshole." His last potential date had snapped. "Even with a face like yours, people have standards. My life doesn't revolve around you.")

Really, he's nice when you get to know him! But he's also lonely, and bored, and every hobby he tries out never lasts more than a couple days.

It's hard, being as naturally talented and intuitive and as intelligent as him. Everything gets old so fast. It's all too easy.

Gets him wound up. He's got so much energy. And the one thing that never gets old to him? Other people.

So when he meets new people he can be sort of... overwhelming. Overly familiar. Annoying. Clingy.

(Okay, maybe he's a little bitter about how that last one. He'd offered to pay her bills! Why was she so worked up over her dumb career? He had way more money, and he was plenty generous with it!)

Lately, he's been toying with a different solution to his problems - hybrids.

They're like people, just basically as pets (which sounds a little messed up when he thinks about it, so he promptly stops thinking, and the problem goes away) - companions who can live with him, eat with him at mealtimes, cuddle up and even provide some intimacy.

That sort of thing is apparently frowned on, but who cares? It's not like he'd ever force anyone. One look at him and they'd be begging for it.

Do you ever think about anyone besides yourself? You're going to wake up alone one day, with no one to put up with your selfishness.

And besides, they'd live together! They'd become friends naturally!

Yeah... a pet would be great for a busy guy like him. Just some cute thing sitting and waiting for him at home, ready to jump on him as soon as he's back.

("Gojo, you barely take care of yourself. You think you can take care of another person?"

"Please, I've looked this up! Cat hybrids are especially independent. Come on, can't you see me with a cute little kitty curled up in my lap?"

"You're actually hopeless.")

Shoko doesn't know what she's talking about. He can be responsible, he simply chooses not to, because life is easier that way. But cats are easy to take care of!

He just has to find the right one. He's been to a couple shelters, but none of the hybrids there have spoken to him.

It's kitten season, apparently - they're really pushing the young ones on him. But Satoru, despite what Shoko thinks, is responsible. He's looking for something older, mature, able to take care of itself (and also consent).

And what does he see as he strolls through a less-wealthy part of town on his way to his favorite ramen shop?

A cute little stray, big pleading eyes and a sign saying "Anything Helps", tail curled up around you as you look up hopefully to passing strangers.

His heart squeezes a little at the sight. There's a small dish in front of you with a scattering of spare change.

Satoru stops, mid-stride, backing up and grinning down at you.

Looks like it's this kitty's lucky day.

So... it turns out it's not so simple to adopt a stray hybrid.

It's a little annoying. You're a sorry, scraggly thing, begging for scraps in a dingy side corner.

And yet you seem to take some kind of issue with his generous offer of adoption.

Satoru supposes he can forgive you for not trusting a stranger, but he brought you out for ramen! You sat with him for the whole meal! That's longer than ninety percent of his dates have tolerated him!

Deep down, some voice is echoing the same old taunts in different words.

Even a stray off the street doesn't want your company. The best you can do is bribe people to love you, and even with all your money, the love runs out quick.

Funny how the voice sounds a lot like his mother! When talking to his dad, of course. Not him. His parents both loved him.

They'd sent him to the most expensive schools, bought him all the latest and greatest of everything, gave him a penthouse and a vacation home as a graduation gift.

Only, it was sort of big for him to live in all by himself. Satoru tries explaining it to you, but you're reluctant for some reason.

It's hard to tell, between all your stammering and nervous trailing off. How you seemed to stare at him, distracted by his beauty.

Heh. He does get that a lot. But you're the cutest, sweetest, most darling creature he's ever laid eyes on, all pathetic and needy-eyed, and he's not going home without a kitty today.

"What do I have to do to make you come with me?" Satoru says it bluntly. "I have money. All the money you could ever want. You can eat bluefin tuna every day-"

"I eat the blue tunas all the time," You interrupt him eagerly, "The ones in the can!"

"Not those - it's - listen, just tell me you'll come back with me!" He really wants to take you home now. You're just too cute.

Your ears droop (oh my GOD it's so adorable), "I'm sorry, I... I don't know. I need to get back to my spot before Suguru comes looking for me."

A dark feeling seems to creep over him like a shadow. You have an owner? And he's making you beg out on the streets?

Well, you are a very convincing cutie. But Satoru doesn't support scam artists! He makes you eat canned tuna.

You do seem to be in relatively good condition, though, now that he takes a second look at you. No fresh cuts or bruises, not a scratch. Your clothes are worn and dirty but you're surprisingly well groomed otherwise.

"And you want to go back with him? I'm way richer," Satoru says, crossing his arms, looking down at you over his glasses.

"Oh, uh, Suguru is also a stray," You say sheepishly, tail swaying gently, "He's my friend. He takes care of me, I could never leave him behind."

Something twists in his chest. You didn't want to leave your friend - that was why.

One pet was already a reach for him, really. But taking in you both?

Give it up already. You're not capable of love. You aren't capable of caring about anyone besides yourself. You're selfish, and you're fine with it.

You'll die alone, Gojo.

He smiles at you, a wide, easy grin.

"I've got room for two."

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #kitty hybrid au #hybrid au #hybrid!reader #x reader

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lavandulawrites · 3 days ago

Text

Daffodil

Yandere!Botanist/ flower shop owner x reader

This OC is inspired by a certain Lord of the Rings character. Ten points to those who can guess who;) I have been wanting to make a softer yandere OC for a while, I hope you like Oliver<3

Synopsis: Your friend shares her concern that your other friend, the sweetest man you know, is stalking you.

Masterlist

Oliver’s (Yandere Botanist) Character Profile

Warnings: yandere, original character, soft yandere, mention of stalking, manipulation, further murder?

Word count: 1478

Oliver was a sweet man. A gentle giant some would say. He was caring, kind, gentle and loving. Oliver loved to both cook and bake, and both he excelled at. His cooking rivalled that of the greatest restaurant, and his baking was so good that it had made you weep.

This is way the words coming from your trusted friend greatly shocked you and offended you.

“He isn’t right in the head [Name]. Maybe you don’t see it because you’re blinded by his sweetness and his caring nature, but please listen to me!” your friend pleaded. Her forehead was wrinkled in frustration and her eyes frantic. “I swear I am telling the truth! He is-”

“A stalker? Really? You seriously think I would fall for that nonsense??” you interrupted her in her ranting. You found it impossible to believe that the sweet man who’s love for kittens was as adorable as a kitten itself. The man who owned a little cozy flower shop, the shop that you always found time to stop by whenever you were on your way home from work or uni. Oliver always had time to listen to your struggles and he always managed to comfort you with either tea or the best hot chocolate you could ever ask for. His sturdy, but slightly soft body perfectly fitted his personality. Though be no fool, he was as strong as a horse, that had been clear for you when he had to help and push your little stupid car that had gotten stuck in the muddy ground. He was a handsome man, with kind brown eyes with golden flecks. He had wavy dark blond hair with light brown streaks. Freckles dusted his cheeks giving him a cute appearance. He was perfect. Your parents loved him, your siblings loved him and your neighbours loved him. You thought your friends loved him too, but that didn’t seemed to be the case for her.

Her eyes narrowed as you were lost deep in thoughts. She waved her hand in front of your face, which caused you to stagger backwards. “Hello??”

You snapped out of it and your eyes found hers. The truth was, that you had started to fall for your botanist friend. You had fallen hard.

“Sorry I got distracted…” you mumbled. “But no, I don’t believe you when you say he is a stalker. Do you even have any proof?” you ask her with a raised brow. You loved her as friend, but you were wounded by her hurtful claims.

“I have seen him sneaking around your flat. We almost always stumble upon him when we are out. It doesn’t even matter what we are doing” she shook her head.

“Really? That’s it? He lives close by, so it’s not that weird that we meet him from time to time” you sigh at your friend. This wasn’t enough to ring any alarm bells. At least not for you.

“Okay, okay. Listen, I know this is not enough to repost him or anything-”

“Report him?! Are you out of your mind?!” you exclaim in disbelief. Who in their right mind would report a man as sweet as Oliver?

“Please let me finish” your friend presses her hand gently on your shoulder to stop your outburst. You nod in response with a lower head and let her continue. “All I am saying is that it’s weird. So many coincidences… I also found it weird that he was in the same women’s store. And in the makeup section too?” your friend’s voice was laced with frustration.

“At least think about it, okay? And be careful. Promise me that” she gave you a pleading look.

Your friend’s words had plagued your mind for the last couple of days. At first you, you didn’t even want to give it a thought, but the more you thought about it, the more the uncertainty crept in. You stopped in front of the cozy flower shop. Even though it was late winter, the shop had quite the few customers. Beautiful flowers in all different kinds of colours were sat in the window, tempting the by-passer to come inside. The interior was old fashioned, with dark old wooden floors and light green floral wallpaper. Paintings with different flower motifs filled the walls were plants weren’t hung up in display. The counter was of the same colour as the floor with a emerald stone countertop. An antique golden register was placed on top the counter which further made you feel like you were in a different time period. A sofa was placed between two shelves on the short far-end wall. It was an old light blue sofa who Oliver had bought from an old lady. It was at least over hundred years old.

Oliver smiled from behind the counter where a costumer just had finished paying for a bouquet of red roses. The bell rang as the women left the store with the bouquet gently placed sun her bag. Now the store was empty save from the two of you.

“Hi! Enjoying the weekend so far?” the blonde man greeted you. His friendly smile revealing the dimples which you loved. He leaned slightly on the counter like a happy puppy.

Your heart fluttered by his cute gesture. “Hi! I am. I thought I should stop by and say hello as it was in the way” you returned the smile. “How are you? Have it been a busy day so far?”

“I’m quite good. Even better now that you are here. It hasn’t been too busy, but that’s okay as I needed to finish some flower bouquets for a weeding” his freckled cheeks slightly reddened. “How are you doing?”

You blushed slightly at his words, but quickly concealed it by looking away. “I’m also doing good”. You paused for a bit. Your fingers fidgeted with the sleeve of your woollen coat. You wanted to ask him about what your friend had said, but you didn’t want to sound rude or accusing. You sharply inhaled. “There is something I wanted to ask you about. I am sure it’s just a coincidence and I don’t mean to sound rude or anything” your words fell out in a fast flurry of words.

Oliver narrowed his eyes quickly before they returned to normal. “Go on” he said in his usual tone.

You hesitated for a moment before you closed his eyes and spurted out “A friend of mine has made me aware that I often bump into you on the most random places… At first I thought nothing about it, but after giving it a good thought, I must say that I agree with her. I mean it is probably just a coincidence, but still. I don’t mean to offend you or anything, but it is kinda strange?”. You give him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, but it is something that has been bugging me” After you had opened your mouth, you had instantly regretted it and you wanted to slam your head as hard as you could against the green stone of the counter.

Oliver’s expression darkened slightly before he smiled his usual warm smile. “I see…” he paused for a moment, clearly in deep thought. “Well, I do love quite close to you and my shop is even closer. Plus it’s not weird to see someone you know out in public” his smile softened. “You shouldn’t think to much about. But I promise you that it’s all coincidences. I hope I haven’t frightened you. Because that’s not my intention at all” he stepped away from the counter and rounded it. Oliver’s large hands gently clasped on your shoulders. He strokes his thumbs up and down in a calming motion. His sweet beautiful brown eyes look at you with utmost adoration. “Would you like some tea, my flower?”

You nodded. “Yes please. I’m so sorry for accusing you of such. That was uncalled for” you rub your finger down your nose bridge in embarrassment and frustration.

“Don’t worry. It’s alright. I am just happy I haven’t accidentally made you uncomfortable”.

As the botanist prepared you some floral tea, your thoughts drift. How could you be so rude to your beloved friend? He was pure hearted and would never hurt a fly.

Oliver hummed as he poured you both some tea. As he hummed on Here Comes The Sun by his favourite band The Beatles, he couldn’t help the anger that flowed through his veins like ice. Your so called friend had tried to tear you apart from him. That was not something he could allow. His nails dug into the wooden table and he could feel splinters stabbing the skin underneath his short nails. Your friend would come to regret her words and that soon. But first, he would lighten your mood with your favourite tea, for such was his duty.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere male #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc #yandere original character #soft yandere #yandere botanist #Oliver #oc #orginal character #Oliver webely

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all-things-are-nothing-to-me · 3 days ago

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Don't hold my hand, jackass. I would not exist if my parents hadn't fled their home country either. Not grandparents, just parents.

But that was a completely different scenario than this. They were fleeing war. I'm not gonna compare what my parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents went through to this. It's not the same. Maybe with your grandparents, it was more similar, if I had to guess, with it being Poland and all.

Sorry, what I'm saying is I don't need hand holding, I exist in a country that doesn't want me here because of the color of my skin. I face this reality every time I step outside.

Moving on. Mutual aid is useful all the time. There's no better time like the present. And I never said anything about building a future. I said a better end. I know things will still be bad, but simply doing nothing is worse.

The places where you'll be treated as full human beings are already within your grasp. No matter where you go in the world, transphobia will be there. Unless you build those places and you can't do that if you always run. Look I grew up in a town infested with racists. One time when I was a teenager I got jumped by boneheads while walking home after a punk show. They kicked my head into a car door. I still have a bald spot from it. You know what my reaction was as soon as I healed? Getting my friends together and beating the fuck out of them every time we saw them, til we stopped seeing them. We didn't always win the fights, but we always stood our ground. I found a place where I was safe from racist violence by making it. Did I defeat racism? No. But did I find a place where it wasn't tolerated and I was treated as a full human being? Yeah, I would say so.

The way I show support is by mailing half of my next batch of homebrew to my friends in Texas. Only half cus I'm in the midwest, and shit is bad for us here too. The way I show support is by putting my Texas friends in contact with all the networks I've built over my last 20 years in anarchyland. Finding you a place to stay wouldn't be possible without building networks. Unless you had money to just buy stuff, which I do not. Mutual aid is double sided, it's I help you and in turn you also help. That's what makes it mutual. Teaching people to fight back, let's them teach others.

You don't have to be a martyr for revolution because I'm not talking revolution. The revolution isn't coming, we are all we have.

But I respect autonomy. If ya wanna run, you do you. But imma prioritize helping those that choose to stay & fight.

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secretl1fe0fm3 · 2 days ago

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guess ~ billie eilish x fem!reader

summary: you’re an extra on stage during charli’s grammy performance. billie can’t seem to keep her eyes off of you, and her hands at the after party.

warnings: smut, dom!billie, teasing, grinding, fingering(r!receiving), dirty talk, slight exhibitionism(not really though)

an: this is loosely based off a request <3 (anon if you’re reading this im not sure if its exactly what you wanted but i hope you enjoy!) also im so sorry this took so long to finish work has been insane :/ ((decided to finish editing this tonight cause guess remix just won soty at the brits lets go lesbians!!!!))

18+ minors dni!!!

1.9k words

The heavy bass of "Guess" pulses through your body. Flashing lights strobe across the crowd, illuminating a sea of famous faces, but you’re too caught up in the music to care. You’re an extra on stage, one of the many moving bodies. But you’re making damn sure you stand out.

Your movements are fluid and sensual as you move your hips to the rhythm, fingers trailing over your skin before snapping back into place with the beat. It’s not too much, but just enough to make anyone watching take notice.

And someone is watching. You feel it before you see it, a magnetic pull from the audience. When you finally glance towards the crowd, your breath catches in your throat.

Your eyes meet piercing blue almost instantly; Billie.

Her body sways along with the beat of the song, long dark brown hair spilling out from underneath her snapback. The bright yellow jersey she’s wearing hangs loose over her frame as she lip syncs along to the song, the camera panning over to her.

For a second, you wonder if you’re imagining it- if she’s looking past you, watching Charli or someone else. You watch the corner of her mouth quirk up into a smirk, like she’s amused at your realization that her gaze is on you. Your heart slams in your chest, but you don’t miss a beat.

Before you can even process much else, the song comes to an end, and the final note rings out into the arena. Deafening cheers and screams fill your ears as the award show comes to a close for the evening.

As everyone starts to move off stage, your eyes scan the crowd one last time and meet with Billie's, the smirk still apparent on her face as her eyes scan up and down your barely covered body. You pretend to ignore her stare, and walk off the stage with one of your friends, giggling from the adrenaline rush.

---

The music is loud, the bass shaking the floor as you dance with your friends, your body still buzzing from the performance earlier. The adrenaline is still in your veins, mixing with the heat of the crowded afterparty.

The two-piece set you’re wearing clings to you like second skin, tiny, yet sparkling under the dim lights.

You feel a presence come up behind you, and a hand skims along your waist. You turn quickly, eyes glancing up at the familiar blue from earlier.

Billie doesn’t say anything at first. She just looks at you, gaze dragging slow over the shimmering fabric clinging to your skin.

A smirk tugs at her lips as she leans in, voice low enough that it barely cuts through the music.

“Dance with me?”

Your eyes widen slightly at her forwardness, and she doesn’t wait for a response. She takes your wrist gently into her hand, fingers warm against your skin, and pulls you closer into her. Your back comes into contact with her front, your ass pushed up against her baggy jeans.

She moves slow, her hands sliding down to rest at your hips. Her grip is firm, teasing, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. Her jersey brushes against your bare lower back with every shift of movement, the cool fabric against your heated skin. She keeps you close, her breath grazing your ear as she leans forward again.

“You looked good up there,” she murmurs, fingers gripping your hips, pushing you back against her more firmly.

You swallow hard, your own hands reaching back and finding the hem of her jersey, tugging just slightly. “You were watching me?”

Billie lets out quiet chuckle, almost a hum. “Hard not to.”

The heat between you is suffocating, your pulse picking up as you grind your hips back against her. Billie tilts her head, placing a soft kiss against the side of your neck, right below your ear.

“Come with me,” she murmurs, her voice low and rough.

Your stomach flips, heat pooling low, but you don’t hesitate. You let her lead you through the crowded party, weaving through bodies quickly.

She pulls you down a dimly lit hallway, secluded and quiet, far enough from the party that the music is nothing more than a distant sound. Your back barely meets the wall before Billie is on you, hands gripping your waist, lips crashing onto yours eagerly.

Her lips are firm and desperate, her body pressing flush against yours, pinning you there. You gasp into her mouth, and she takes advantage, her tongue sliding against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

Her hands wander, slipping under the hem of your top, fingers tracing across your bare skin. She groans against your lips.

“Fuck,” she breathes, pulling back just enough to drag her eyes over you, like she wants to devour you. “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me all night.”

Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your head spinning, lips swollen from the way she kissed you. You smirk, dragging your hands up the front of her oversized jersey, feeling the heat of her body through the fabric.

“Yeah?” You tease, breathless. “What have I been doing to you?”

Billie exhales and laughs softly, pressing her thigh between your legs, making you gasp quietly.

“Dancing like you wanted me to come over and take what’s mine.” she whispers, her lips trailing down to your jaw and then your neck, sucking and biting at your pulse point. Her words send a rush of heat straight to your core

“Maybe I did,” you admit, your nails scratching lightly against her stomach under her top.

Billie groans at your words, her nails digging into your waist, leaving crescent shaped indents. Her fingers trail down and slip under the fabric of your skirt, dragging up the inside of your thigh. She moves slow, her teasing touch making you squirm. Billie taps her fingers against your cunt, rubbing you through your lace panties.

“Fuck,” you whisper, gripping onto her shoulders.

Billie’s smirk deepens as she watches you squirm, her fingers moving in slow, deliberate circles. “Look at you,” she murmurs, her voice thick with amusement and hunger. “So desperate for me already.”

Her fingers slide lower, pushing your lace black thong to the side, teasing your slick entrance before pushing in, stretching you. She watches your face closely as her two fingers push fully in, creating a steady rhythm as she begins to thrust them in and out.

“You love this, don’t you?” she taunts, curling her fingers just right. “So wet and dripping for me.”

You nod quickly, biting your lip hard, trying to stifle your moans. Her free hand trails up your body, slipping beneath your top, her nails dragging lightly against your skin. She cups your breast, rolling your nipple between her fingers, her grin widening when you arch into her touch.

“That’s it,” she purrs. “Be a good girl and let me hear you.”

Her pace quickens as you let a small moan escape past your lips, her fingers thrusting deep as her thumb circles your clit. “You’re so fucking tight,” she groans, her breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing me so well, baby. You gonna come for me? Gonna make a mess all over my fingers?”

She presses a kiss to your neck as you throw your head back against the wall, eyes squeezing shut. “Say it,” she demands, her voice dripping with authority. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

Her fingers begin to slow down, waiting for your response, teasing you cruelly. Instead of forming a coherent response, a whimper escapes your lips as her fingers fully still inside you, the sudden loss of movement making your body ache with frustration.

“Come on, sweetheart,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with amusement as she presses a featherlight kiss to your jaw. “I know you can do better than that.”

Your hips shift involuntarily against her fingers as you stay silent, seeking friction, but she merely smirks at your silent plead.

“Oh, you’re fucking desperate, aren’t you?” Her breath is hot against your ear, her teeth grazing your skin as she speaks. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please,” you finally breathe out, voice trembling.

Billie hums, amused, but unimpressed. “That’s cute,” she muses, slightly shifting her fingers inside you, making you shudder. “But not nearly enough.”

A frustrated high pitch whine leaves your lips, and she chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. You can do it. Tell me exactly what you want.” Her other hand pinches at your nipple, rubbing the sensitive nub between her fingers.

Your body is trembling beneath her, burning with need. Your eyes lock with hers, voice breaking as you plead, “Please, Billie… I need you. I need more. I-fuck-I can’t take it. Please let me cum.”

Her fingers resume their movement again at your begging, a satisfied hum slipping past her lips. “Thats more like it, baby. See what happens when you’re a good girl for me?”

Her pace quickens, her fingers curling just right, pressing into your sweet spot. The pressure builds, heat coiling tight in your lower belly. You whimper her name repeatedly, spilling from your lips like a desperate prayer.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” she taunts, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. The sight of you falling apart being enough to bring her close to her own climax.

Your body tenses, as the pleasure turns into something overwhelming. Your hands grasp at her shoulders, at anything to ground yourself, but Billie doesn’t stop, her fingers fucking into you even quicker. She leans in, lips brushing against your ear, voice dropping even lower.

“Cum for me,” she whispers.

Your orgasm washes over you instantly at her command. A sharp and loud gasp escapes you as the white hot pleasure crashes over you. Billie’s fingers start to slow as you clench down on them, dragging out every last tremor and desperate whimper until you’re left breathless and shaking in her grip.

She grins and withdraws her fingers gently, pressing a soothing kiss to your tense jaw. “Beautiful,” she murmurs, trailing your wetness down and over your exposed thighs, letting your underwear slip back into place.

“But guess what? I’m not done with you yet, pretty girl.”

my masterlist

requests are open!!! <3

#billie eilish #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish imagine #billie x reader #wlw smut #smut #ahem

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