#am I annoyed I even have to entertain the thought that he might | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nadvs · 9 months ago

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watch and learn (part two)

pairing fratboy! rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

content warning drug and alcohol use

summary it takes one conversation with your college dorm neighbor to know you won’t get along. rafe is loud, rude, and short-tempered. after he overhears you talking about a disappointing fling, he loses his confidence in his sexual abilities and suggests you start hooking up to both improve your skills in the bedroom. you can’t stand him, but it’s too good of an offer to turn down.

» masterlist

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You’re at the library the next morning, enjoying how quiet campus is on a Saturday. You’re trying to focus on a discussion board you need to respond in, but your mind is elsewhere.

You can’t believe you agreed to Rafe’s idea. But you don’t regret it. He may be a jerk through and through, but he’s surprisingly a really good listener in bed.

You’re pretty sure he gave you the best orgasm you’ve ever had with someone. While it was an awkward challenge guiding him, you realized how liberating it was getting exactly what you wanted instead of quietly hoping the guy you were with knew what to do.

Your phone buzzes and lights up with a text. It’s 9:44 am and the notification is from Rafe.

Rafe: if you ever want practice sucking dick let me know

You flush and instinctually look around to make sure nobody in the barren library can see your screen. You reply: good morning to you too.

You take a second and send another message. The thought of going down on him rouses you. And, of course, the feedback will be helpful.

You: might take you up on that

Rafe: might?

You: might :)

Rafe is lying in bed, nursing a minor hangover. When he thinks about what happened on the other side of the wall in your room last night, he gets turned on all over again.

Feeling you cum around his fingers was fucking amazing. Knowing he did that to you, made you shake like that, was like an achievement. And he wants to keep doing it.

He texts you: we’re having a party on the beach today. bring friends

Rafe’s brand new to the frat, but he has already learned how important it is to invite as many people as he can to events. And if he’s being honest, he really wants to see you again.

You: only if you dont hit on them. i cant subject them to that

He feels his lips quirk up in a smile. When you don’t have a stick up your ass, you’re actually kind of entertaining.

Rafe: wtf why

You: you’re a fuckboy

Rafe: nahh you said i was amazing

You: i said the sex was amazing. and thats only because i told you what to do

Rafe: you can’t take all the credit

You: watch me

Rafe: you’re annoying

You: YOU’RE annoying

You: send me the address and time for the party

He quickly sends you the details.

This is the best idea he’s ever had. No strings attached sex with a hot girl who has zero interest in a relationship and can be brutally honest with him. He gets to fuck and improve his skills. It’s a dream.

Later that afternoon, Rafe watches the setting sun as he hangs out with a couple of his frat brothers in the sand. The party’s slowly starting to fill up, conversations growing in volume over the sound of the waves crashing on the shore.

“We don’t host a lot of parties here,” Blake continues to explain to Rafe.

Blake’s a sophomore legacy and Rafe has slowly realized that he sort of looks up to him. He’s involved in the frat and seems to know everybody.

“It’s ‘cause it’s impossible to get people to pay cover, so we don’t even ask for it,” Blake says.

“No door to do it at,” Sam, another sophomore adds with a laugh. Blake looks back and shakes his head.

“Fun police is here,” he hollers. Rafe turns to see pacing towards the keg next to the same girl he saw you with last night.

His pulse quickens as he takes you in. Your shorts are barely covering anything. Damn.

You glare at Blake as you pick up a red solo cup.

“Kidding,” Blake says. “We were kinda being assholes the other night, weren’t we?”

Your lips twist into a small smile. Rafe isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t like you looking at Blake like that.

He didn’t mention to anyone that you two hooked up last night. No particular reason - it just didn’t come up. But clearly, he’ll have to fill the guys in later. They need to know you’re off limits.

“Thanks for admitting it,” you say, filling up your cup. “Why can’t you be my neighbor?”

You look over at Rafe, whose jaw is clenched. Him and that temper. Admittedly, you’re already kind of sexually frustrated over how good he looks in his tank top, his big biceps exposed.

“Life’s unfair,” Blake replies with a bigger grin. You return it. It makes Rafe’s blood run hot.

“I guess it is,” you say as your friend finishes filling up her cup.

You walk away and Rafe realizes he didn’t exchange a single word with you. The second you’re out of earshot, he leans towards his buddies.

“I’m hooking up with her,” he tells them.

“Your neighbor?” Sam laughs. “Cap. That chick hates you.”

Rafe almost tells him not to call you a chick because of your advice last night. Wow. He really is learning from you.

“Didn’t hate me last night.” He takes a sip of his beer.

“Wait, for real?” Blake asks.

“Yeah.” Rafe loves the confidence high he’s riding right now.

“How was it?” Blake asks.

Rafe decides to lie. Painting it as a boring experience will make his buddies lose any interest they might have in you.

“Fine,” he says casually. Yeah, right. It was incredible.

Rafe watches Blake turn, surely to check you out.

“She’s cute,” Blake mumbles.

“Bro code, man,” Sam says, slapping his friend’s chest. Rafe is kind of relieved he said that.

“Shit, my bad,” Blake says with a chuckle, looking at Rafe. “You like her?”

“Oh - no,” Rafe laughs. “No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I talked to her, right?” Blake says it as more of a statement than a question.

Rafe realizes he shouldn’t care. This whole arrangement is so both of you can get better at sex with other people. He doesn’t know what got into him thinking you owed him loyalty. His impulse to be possessive serves no purpose here.

“Go for it,” Rafe says.

Dusk falls as you stand in a crowd with Liv, your feet sunken into the sand as you drink and chat.

You told her about your arrangement with Rafe and were surprised to hear how jealous she was, mentioning how rare it is to find a guy who cares about giving his girl an orgasm.

You had to clarify to her it’s because Rafe’s ego needs all the stroking it can get, especially in the bedroom. And that you are not his girl.

You know it’s a crazy situation to be in with someone, but it’s worth it. You’ll learn what you can from him, and he’ll do the same with you, and then you’ll use what you picked up with people you actually like.

As the night goes on, the crowd gets bigger and closer together. It’s dark at this point, the moon covered with clouds.

Rafe’s been looking at you all night, at your bare legs, thinking about how he had his mouth between them last night.

You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket. When you pull it out, you see a text from Rafe: you ever fucked in a car? or are you too scared lol

You look up to meet his gaze from eight feet away at most, shaking your head in incredulity as he smirks at you.

The abruptness of his message, the promise of doing something so outside your comfort zone, is thrilling. But still, you just have to mess with him.

You reply: too scared :( no thanks

You laugh at the way Rafe’s face contorts at his phone. He looks up at you.

You text again: jk let’s go

He flashes his middle finger to you and you return the gesture. He then cocks his head behind him to signal you to follow.

“Tip for you,” you say when you approach him, walking away from the crowd together. “Don’t flip off a girl you’re trying to fuck.”

“Is that not good foreplay?” Rafe asks with a smirk.

“Aw, did I teach you that word?” you say.

“I knew it before.”

“Sure,” you say. “Just like you knew that girls fake it.”

“You’re annoying,” he groans, amusement in his tone.

“You’re annoying” you say, echoing your text conversation from earlier. You playfully shove his shoulder. He hardly budges.

You approach the parking lot and Rafe pulls out keys to remotely unlock his car.

“Get in,” he says, stopping in front of a large black SUV and opening the right backseat door. You notice the luxury brand immediately.

“This is your car?”

“Got a motorcycle, too,” he replies smugly.

“It makes so much sense now.”

“What?”

“You’re rich,” you realize. Rafe shrugs in such a pompous way.

“And?”

“That’s why you’re so…” you begin. What’s the right word? Entitled? Arrogant? Shameless? “You.”

Rafe scoffs at you, unsure of how to take the comment and unsure if he should even care as you settle in his car. He ambles in behind you, settling on the leather seat and shutting the door.

You don’t feel shy to initiate like you did last night. You straddle him, immediately locking lips, feeling him freeze in what you think is surprise before his hands drag over your hips.

Rafe really wants to grab your ass but he remembers you telling him he shouldn’t jump right to groping.

He tastes like beer and he smells like cologne as you deepen the kiss, weaving your lips together. He dips his tongue into your mouth and your noses nudge together, wet lips smacking in his dark, quiet car.

He shuffles under you, the leather squeaking, allowing you to feel his hard-on between your legs, his hands finally wandering over your ass and gripping hard. Lust burns in your stomach.

Your mind drifts back to what he texted you this morning. You’ve been thinking about it all day. You sit back, unable to see much of Rafe in the darkness, but enough to see that his eyes are half-closed, drunk off the feeling.

“I wanna practice…” you say, stroking him over his shorts. “You know.”

“Say it,” Rafe coaches, his dimples caving into his cheeks. You roll your eyes. Right. This is why you’re doing this. To stop being so reserved.

“Sucking dick,” you finally say. Hearing and watching you as your words spill out of your mouth makes his skin prickle with excitement.

“My turn to teach you, huh?” Rafe’s voice is deep and husky, dripping with desire. You nod, your bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as you continue to stroke him.

“Should I keep doing this?” you ask, palming him.

“You got it, baby,” he rasps lazily. “Touch it before you put it in your mouth.”

“Fuck,” you half-chuckle. Rafe smirks. He knows you love his dirty talk.

“You can talk, too,” he encourages. “Try it.”

You twist your lips in apprehension, but push yourself past your comfort zone.

“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day,” you admit, goosebumps blooming across your skin. “About how your cock is gonna feel down my throat.”

“Goddamn,” he groans, his hands gripping your ass tighter. How’d he get so lucky to be here right now? “That’s good.”

“Yeah?” you whisper, gratified. You unbutton his shorts and pull down his zipper.

“You liked the way it felt inside you last night, didn’t you?” he asks. He shifts to give you the space to pull down his shorts and boxers.

You watch him shut his eyes in pleasure as you wrap your bare hand around him, no fabric in the way anymore.

“I loved it,” you whisper, giving into the impulse to kiss him again. When your thumb rubs over the bead of warm precum on the head of his cock, he bites your bottom lip.

You move to position your head at his groin, your knees on the carpeted floor of his car. You lean forward, slowly putting your lips around the tip, feeling just how wet your panties are when you taste him.

“Shit,” he shudders. You slightly raise your head to dribble spit onto his thick cock, bringing your hand up to rub the moisture over his length.

“Sit up,” Rafe says. “I wanna watch you spit on it again.”

You straighten and the sight of your line of saliva dropping from your mouth to his dick makes Rafe feel like he might go crazy.

His cock is slick now, your hand sliding up and down it easily.

“Should I use both hands?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he huffs. You nod, both your palms rubbing over his girth, cupping and twisting.

He’s about to tell you to start using your mouth, but you drop a hand, leaving the other at his base, and take him in.

Your hot, wet mouth feels unbelievable. You start to suck and slide over him nicely, leaning up and down.

“Squeeze harder,” he instructs, and you nod with his cock still in your mouth, your hold stiffening at his base. You’d assume gripping this tight would hurt, but this is why you’re doing this with him. To learn.

You take a little more of him with every dip of your head, lips locked as spit dribbles down your chin. The sound of your slurping is fucking amazing to him. Your tongue twists and curls as you move.

“Keep using your tongue like that,” Rafe says to you, his words whispered and rushed. “And take as much of my cock as you can. Try to take all of it.”

You nod again, pushing down, gagging but reaching all of him, your nose touching his toned stomach.

“Fuck, yes,” he moans. “Good fucking girl.”

The praise makes you stir with enticement as you pull back, then take all of his length again, flicking your tongue.

“Just like that,” Rafe grunts, his voice hoarse. “Look at me.”

You meet his eyes in the shadowed car, his chest heaving. Rafe might just lose his mind at the way you look with your mouth stuffed with his cock. He reminds himself this is supposed to be instructional.

“Guys love this shit, okay?” he says. “When you look up like that.”

You pull back, making him watch his cock slowly get uncovered as you pop off of him.

“Is it wet enough?” you ask.

“Yeah, baby, you’re doing a good job,” he replies. You nod and sink onto him again, starting to move faster, moving your hand in sync with your mouth.

“Hold my balls,” he tells you. “Not too tight.”

You obey, cupping the soft flesh with one hand while the other remains wrapped around his cock. You squeeze gently, massaging his balls and earning a deep groan from him.

Wow. You really are learning a lot from him.

Rafe feels his stomach tighten. He’s close.

“You gonna swallow?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, muffled and vibrating over his cock. You never have before, but you really want to impress Rafe and do this right.

He starts to shake, his voice reduced to a whimper. You feel him get even harder, then shudder.

His hot cum hits the back of your throat in one hard splash, trailed by short spurts. He moans his way through his orgasm, his load heavy.

You take it all, making him smile as he looks down at you, panting.

“That was… fuck…” Rafe huffs, titling his head back, his jawline sharp.

It’s pretty gratifying seeing such a big, loud, arrogant man reduced to this tired, heaving mess. He rakes a hand through his hair as you shift to sit next to him.

“A-plus?” you ask. You’re expecting him to tease you but he nods.

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs. “Give me a few minutes. I want you to show me how to make you cum on my dick.”

Nerves suddenly bubble in your stomach. Even after what you just did, the thought of fucking him in here makes you feel on edge.

“Let’s do that another night,” you say, adjusting your top.

“What? Why?” he asks. He looks at you, lips still parted as he breathes heavily.

“We could get caught.”

“The windows are tinted,” Rafe tells you. “Nobody knows we’re even in here.”

You look away, which by now, he has learned means you’re embarrassed.

“Holy shit, why do you get so nervous all of a sudden?” he laughs. “Do you feel bad for liking sex or something?”

You swallow hard. You never thought about it but... maybe he’s right. There always is a little bit of shame attached to every hook-up you have.

He called you out on your lack of confidence last night. Here he is, doing it again.

Rafe doesn’t understand how a girl can be so sure of herself one minute, then ashamed the next.

“Relax,” he says. “Don’t think. Just answer, understand?”

“Okay,” you say.

“Do you want to fuck?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“Yeah, I do,” you relent.

“Then take your clothes off.”

(part three)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

#the way i listen to a playlist called ‘fratboy anthems’ while i work on this series….#don’t think i’ve ever written this much this fast??? what rafe cameron does to a mf #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #obx smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe x y/n #rafe x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n

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uniquexusposts · 3 months ago

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A one-day friend - O. Piastri

Summary: Y/n and Oscar sit next to each other on a flight and get to know each other. Note: I know Oscar probably flies business or first class, but for the story he doesn't.

A small smile curved on Y/n her mouth when she looked out of the airplane window. She was leaving Europa behind. After a month of travelling through Germany, France, Switzerland and Italy, it was time to go home. Y/n was glad she finally could go home, but this trip made her realise how much she wanted to move to Europe, being free and away from home.

It was sunny outside, there were no clouds. Usually, Y/n flew on the worse times: in the night and in the bad weather. This was one of the first times she was able to have a look at the tiny countries. While looking at the view she got, her mind stopped working - in the right way. She finally cleared her mind. There was nothing she was thinking of. It was like meditating.

The entertainment system of the airplane was insanely good. There were a lot of films Y/n was planning on seeing but didn't have the chance to because...reasons. She was glad she had the time and was being able to watch the films now.

When the first film came to an end, Y/n planned on catching up with work. Her fingers touched the touch screen to look up the flight details. She tightened her jaw when her airplane neighbour was touching her arm. I get it, we don't have much space, but you are in my aura right now. Before she knew it, the head of her neighbour was softly falling on her shoulder. Y/n gently moved her head to see what exactly was going on. The man was asleep. Great. She closed her eyes and sighed, annoyed.

There was an option to wake him up, but Y/n didn't want to. Maybe something was going on with him, and perhaps this was the first moment he could sleep? Or maybe he had anxiety? Or he just broke up? Or he was just tired? Y/n opened her eyes and looked at the screen again. She was being kind and let him sleep. Four more hours to go and a fantastic entertainment system. The option work wasn't an option anymore.

"Good evening, this is your captain speaking. In less than 20 minutes we will be arriving at Dubai International Airport. It is currently 21:45 and 30º degree celsius. On behalf of Emirates and the crew, thank you for flying Emirates, and hopefully, we will see you soon again," the captain spoke after a few hours.

Y/n stretched her legs and breathed deeply but gently in. The man was still sleeping with his head on her shoulder. It gave her two thoughts: he was a stranger, this was odd, and it wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. The cabin crew were walking through the plane to get all the garbage and inform the people to straighten their seats. The friendly steward asked if Y/n could wake up her partner. What partner?

She did what she was being asked and nudged the side of the man with her elbow. The man looked up, and his eyes widened. "We are about to land," she awkwardly smiled and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Oh," he mumbled and looked confused around. "Thank you. And I'm sorry," he apologised. "Have I been asleep for the whole flight?"

"Yup."

"I'm sorry," the man said again.

Y/n looked at him. "It's alright," she told him. The look in her eyes was warm and friendly. The man felt sorry he might have made her flight uncomfortable. "They...erm...gave me the snacks. So..." She gave the man the two cups of water and some crackers.

"Right, thanks."

Maybe the best part of this flight was for the man, he was the one who got his sleep. Y/n, on the other hand... Sitting at the window seat is fantastic because you can look outside, but when having strangers next to you who are asleep...not ideal. Especially when you need to go to the bathroom. For those six hours, it was slightly subtle. But for the next flight, it would be hell. Why am I so helpful to people?

The plane landed safely and smoothly at Dubai International Airport. It was already dark and warm, but that didn't matter to Y/n. She needed to go to her transfer flight on the other side of the massive airport. There were two hours left to the next departure. Y/n was glad she could finally walk and stretch her legs properly. It was late in the evening, so there weren't many people around the airport anymore. She didn't mind, within 30 min she was at the right gate. It gave her the time to look around at the duty-free stores. It was the same as the airports in Europe, so there weren't many new things to see.

Even though it wasn't new, Y/n found a manner to almost miss her flight. And you know when you are a national embarrassment when they have you call your name through the speakers of the airport. But she wasn't the only one, more people were invited. Y/n made her way to the gate and showed her ticket.

"You are right on time, Miss Y/l/n," the Qantas Airline employee said.

Y/n politely smiled and walked towards the airplane. Fourteen more hours to and we are reaching the next destination: Melbourne. She ran her hand through her hair and stepped into the aircraft. The friendly crew welcomed Y/n and guided her to her seat.

"Thanks," Y/n thanked the woman and smiled.

Window seat, again.

She looked at the people who were sitting next to her. A woman and a man, but one of them was the man who slept next to her on the flight to Dubai. Her eyes widened, and she parted her lips. They both stood up to let Y/n take place on her own seat.

"Well, this is awkward," the man said and looked at Y/n. Y/n fastened her seatbelt and made herself comfortable for how comfortable an economy seat could be. "Next time, just wake me up."

What are the coincidences this is actually happening?

"I will," Y/n shortly said.

"I'm Oscar," the man introduced himself and stuck out his hand.

"Y/n." She grabbed his hand and softly squeezed in it.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n."

He was polite. "Nice to meet you too, Oscar."

"This is actually the first time I have seen this film," Oscar said when 'Bohemian Rhapsody' ended.

Y/n raised her eyebrows and looked surprised at him. "You serious?" Oscar slowly nodded. "You seriously have something missed during those years. I'm glad I made you watch it."

The fourteen-hour flight was surprisingly good and fun. Oscar was a kind man, after all. They talked a bit and watched a few films together. Y/n wasn't able to sleep, she couldn't sleep on the plane, and Oscar already had his sleep from the previous flight.

Oscar smirked. "You got me," he said and stretched his arms above his head. "Four more hours to go." Y/n took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm going for a walk. Maybe you should go too."

He was right; having a walk through the plane - it probably wasn't more than 150 metres if you walked to the back of the plane and back, but it was a walk to stretch the legs on this long flight. Oscar asked the unknown woman, who was sitting on his other side if she could stand up. Oscar and Y/n got up and walked to the back of the plane.

"This is just so awkward," Y/n said. "All those people who are looking at you, yikes."

Oscar smirked and looked behind him at Y/n. "You must do something for it, Y/n."

When they arrived at the back of the plane, Y/n had no idea what she saw. There was a small bar, there were bowls filled with fruit and biscuits. She looked at Oscar, and a happy smile grew on her lips.

"See, the back of the planes are the best. Not many people know this, but this is for us, the economy section. This is another reason why you should go for a walk in the plan: drinks and food," he told her and grabbed an apple and a biscuit.

"Wow, what an invention. Brilliant," Y/n spoke and grabbed an apple as well. It felt good to walk around. Sitting on an airplane seat for several hours was awful; the little space, the many people in your aura and not being able to stretch your legs as you want to. "I will keep this in my mind. I seriously had no idea this actually was on a plane."

"Perks of a frequent flyer," he winked.

"I am too," she smirked. "But I had no idea."

"Oh."

The last four hours went by, and they landed safely on the Australian ground again. Y/n was glad she wasn't alone after all. Flying with someone on your side is a lot better than flying alone. They had talked a lot about regular stuff, like politics, the news and that kind of stuff. They left the plane and walked both towards the exit of the airport.

Y/n read the signs on the board and looked around. "I have to go to my next flight," she mentioned Oscar and stopped walking. His smile softened and looked disappointed at her. It was almost sad to see him like that like he hoped Y/n would go to Melbourne as well. "So..."

"Where do you have to go?" He asked curiously.

"Sydney," she answered and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Thanks for the great company, it absolutely made it all better," she smiled.

He nodded and gave her a small smile, he surely was disappointed to leave her behind. "Give me your phone." He had to deal with this situation quickly, as the intercom called for the flight was about to board to Sydney. Y/n squeezed her eyebrows together and grabbed her phone out of her pocket. "I really enjoyed this flight, I wish every flight was just as joyful as this one. Text me when you are home, okay?"

Is this his smooth way for asking my number? To keep in touch with me? "I will."

Y/n put her phone back in her pocket and gave him a warm but exhausted smile. An hour and thirty more hours to go, and she was home. People from their flight passed them, some were annoyed, some were happy to arrive at their home base.

"I really have to go," she said and slowly walked away. "Thanks again!"

Oscar parted his lips and knew he needed to say something. "You can 'accidentally' miss your flight so I can take you out on a coffee!"

Y/n looked at him and lowered her eyebrows while a cheeky smile curved on her lips. "Safe trip home, Oscar," she chuckled.

"It was worth a shot," Oscar said loudly and pointed at her. It made her laugh. "Have a good flight, Y/n!" He showed one of his best smiles and winked.

Y/n bit her lip and turned around while she walked away. A small smile played on her lips. It was just a friend on the plane. Sometimes you have friends for a short time because you are in the same situation. This is a situation like that. But this oddly felt more than just a friend.

No Y/n, just a one day-friend, great company on the flight, maybe a little bit too much coincidence, but a one day-friend.

Her eyes fell on the dark airport. There were lights of a landing plane, the runway and...and the ugly self-reflection of herself in the windows. A sigh left her mouth, and she went to the gate of her last flight.

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haikyu-mp4 · 6 months ago

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Mattsun finally confessing to their oblivious manager pls? 🥺🤲 she’s the type to have flirtatious advances fly over her head and Mattsun’s not really good with words (it’s his very first confession. He’s nervous. Makki teasing him about it isn’t helping.)

Like the wind

word count; 744 – gn!reader

Matsukawa Issei was about to lose his mind. The only good thing about flirtatious advances flying right over your head like the wind was that at least you didn’t entertain any other guys who approached you either.

“You look good today.”

“I am feeling rather great, the sun shining always makes me feel revitalised.”

And Mattsun would watch with a little smirk from the sideline as you moved on to fill up water bottles as if his advances didn’t go just about the same way.

Well… except for the fact that they could hardly be called advances when he had no idea how to talk to you.

He would typically come over right as you filled the last bottle to carry the baskets for you, and when you thanked him with that pretty smile, all he could say was “Heh pfft yes. You’re welcome.”

As Makki snickered from the entrance to the gym, Mattsun felt like this might be a mission impossible even Tom Cruise couldn’t handle.

“Mattsun, y/n, go get the net, please!” Oikawa ordered, turning to Iwaizumi with a not-so-subtle wink.

“On it!” you yelled back, jogging over to the adjacent equipment room with Mattsun in tow, who was glaring over his shoulder at his friends.

You picked up the net, making an annoyed sound when a thread had gotten stuck on a hook that was a bit too high up. “Could you get that?” you asked. Issei cleared his throat, which made you take half a step back.

He leaned over you and tugged it loose, letting it fall into your arms. Now that he was standing so close, he gulped, looking at you with parted lips as if even he was wondering if any words would leave him. “Uh… good?” he stuttered, lifting a hand to pat the net.

“Excellent,” you emphasised, glancing out into the gym and then back to Mattsun. “Should we go?”

As he moved just a bit to the side, you slipped past him and scattered away, hoping he couldn’t hear the loud beating of your heart.

You’re walking to the gym in the wintertime, Iwa, Oikawa and Makki walking in front of you and Mattsun beside you, the cold biting at any exposed skin as you moved from your last lecture to the gym for practice. While thinking about something you needed to remember for that class, you started fiddling with your hands in thought, and Mattsun noticed.

“Your hands look cold,” he said, pulling the hand closest to you out of his pocket but not saying anything further.

You looked up at him and tilted your head before looking back at your hands. “Oh? Don’t worry, they’re not.”

He grumbled something along the lines of ‘great’ while watching Makki snicker in front of him, taking mental note of where his next serve would hit. The hand was quickly tucked back in his pocket like nothing happened.

It wasn’t until after the last tournament in their third year that Matsukawa finally decided to go for it. He’d watched his friends break down crying after their devastating loss and he couldn’t help how his heart softened while watching you frantically pull tissues out of a box to dry their tears.

As you checked behind you that no player was left behind, a hand touched your shoulder and slid under the strap of the equipment bag. You didn’t startle, seeing it was Mattsun. “It’s not heavy, you know I can get it,” you said with a knowing smile but didn’t make any effort to take the bag back.

“Makes me feel cool, let me have this,” he joked, and it made the two of you chuckle under your breaths as you left the gym. Having a good cry loosened up his nerves, he supposed. Walking out was bittersweet, wanting to enjoy the last bit of energy from the game while the weight of the loss sat heavily on his shoulders. You couldn’t imagine how they felt, but Matsukawa wanted you to at least know how he felt. “I like you.”

You nodded and kept walking, smiling at the tall guy by your side. “I like you too, you know that.”

He huffed, smiling affectionately but still in disbelief. “No, I like you.”

Your legs stopped moving gradually, grabbing his hand loosely as you stopped. He turned to you with an unsure grimace and you tilted your head. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Believe me, I tried.”

masterlist

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whatudowhennooneseesyou · 9 months ago

Note

WE NEED A SERIES ABOUT HOW SKZ ARE LIKE WHEN THEY'RE INTERESTED IN SOMEONE

i just read leeknow's version and I'm so interested! please consider making it a series 💖

Ooooooooh- okay okay!!!

This anon ask is what got the most popular views in my vote so welcome to the second post of March!!!

What a beautiful way to start the autumn season :)

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes and should not be taken seriously, this is for funsies.

𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐬: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 '𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲' 𝐘𝐨𝐮?

Bang Chan:

His Libra Moon/Mercury and Scorpio Venus means you have to be friends with him for him to develop a crush on you, he might think you're pretty from the moment he sees you but he has to build a rapport and establish a good 'vibe' before he even thinks about dating you.

Chris would be more giggly and physically affectionate than usual, he'd give you more compliments than he does his other friends...might even be more teasing or playful towards you.

He honestly seems like the type of man that would ask you out over Messenger but I hope he would take the time to confess his feelings to you in person.

'So...we've been friends for a while right? And I think you know that I like you more than a friend...so would you want to be something that's more than friends?'

Lee Know:

Lee Know's Sagittarius Moon/Scorpio Mercury and Venus indicates a slow...SLOW burn type of dynamic where he could be crushing on you for MONTHS and you wouldn't even notice.

The type to scrawl through your social media but would not even utter a single confession to your face until he can't take it anymore and he has to spill.

He would prefer to make the first move so he can think of a hundred different ways of how the scenario could go, he would put effort into showing care for you and then act nonchalant about it.

Lee Know is the type to pay for your coffee every time you're together and then act like it's a gesture he'd do for anyone (which we know he wouldn't).

'You don't know I like you??? I have liked you for months now, I bought you coffee all the time, I thought I was being obvious'

Seo Changbin:

Changbin's Virgo Venus and Leo Moon with Cancer Mercury also indicates he would probably show his attraction to you in an indirect manner because Virgo Venuses love to enjoy showing their attraction to you in the most quietly 'detailed' way.

Is the type to ask you about your workout routine or your favourite places to eat, he's also the type to keep a list in his phone of things you enjoy so he can ask about them later.

'So...you mentioned how you like guys that work out right? Does that mean you would like me when I workout?'

Hwang Hyunjin:

Hyunjin's Pisces Venus/ Virgo Moon (maybe)/Aries Mars indicates a man who's a true romantic and an impulsive one at that.

His fanciness for you would manifest in him being more giggly and physically affectionate with you, maybe casually rubbing your arm or welcoming you with a squishy hug.

Eventually, he'll reach a point where he's so overwhelmed and bursting with feelings...he just HAS to reveal them to you and his confession would make you feel like a Hollywood romantic drama.

'I have to tell you something and so I'm going to say it before I can't...I like you, I REALLY like you and I can't hide it anymore.'

Lee Felix/Han Jisung:

I'm combining these two together because they share both the same Venus and Mars signs with the exception of Han being a Pisces Moon and Felix being an Aries Moon.

They both would be the nervous type and Han might even be more shy with you than he would be with his other friends whilst Felix might be more conversational and maybe even to the point of annoying with how friendly and hyper he might be.

Han would be interested in understanding what your hobbies, values and desires are.

Felix would bring you gifts, offer you suggestions for songs to listen too and try and become invested in the hobbies you're interested in.

( I am watching Law and Order: SVU and I get why people have been invested in Olivia and Elliot for 25 years because they are both fine af!!!)

They would both be nervous and in fact might give you enough hints that they are interested in you to make the first move on them.

Han: 'So...if someone said that I like you...what would you think about that?'

Felix: 'Look...I don't know how else to say this but I...I like you and I don't know what to do about it'.

Kim Seungmin:

Seungmin's Cancer Moon and Virgo Mercury indicates a forthright but gentle way of expressing his feelings for you, sure he's sassy and a bit cheeky but his confession would still be romantic.

But definitely more straightforward than the others, people who have a Virgo Mercury don't like to sugar coat anything.

'Here's your coffee order, did I get it right?...I like you- I really, really like you and I wouldn't mind taking you out- just the two of us...if it's okay with you?'

Yang Jeongin:

Jeongin and him having an Aries Venus WITH a Mercury in Aquarius??? Friends pffft what friends?

Jeongin is too impatient to form a friendship with you and he's probably the type to openly admit his feelings for you in a calm and slightly non-chalant manner- like the true fuckboi he would be.

'You like me noona, I know you do because I want you even more so what are we waiting for? I want you to be mine'

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @hipster-shiz @cherry-0420 @ja3hwa @justaaveragereader @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @wisejudgedragonhairdo @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @sensitiveandhungry @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @starillusion13 @escapetheshark @daddysspecialdollyworld @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppins @leomggg @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @leenaur

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #stray kids hard hours #skz smut #bang chan #lee know #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #felix lee #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #kpop astrology

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delirious-donna · 10 months ago

Text

A Shaky Arrangement [Part Three]

story summary: Your best friend lets you crash at her place over the spring break since you have nowhere else to go. Little did you know that it isn't actually her place. Instead, it belongs to a tall (grumpy) hot guy who finds you in his apartment–her brother.

chapter summary: You've nowhere else to go, surely he wouldn't kick you out so easily? You are so very attractive after all...

pairings: Nanami Kento x female reader

warnings: sibling bickering, mentions of food, SFW

Part Two | Series Masterlist | Part Four

Kento scowled.

He sat stiffly on the leather couch that occupied most of the living room space, watching as you took container after container out of a brown paper bag with a grease stain pooling at the bottom. The desire to march to the kitchen and find the surface spray and kitchen towel to wipe up any damage to his coffee table was rampant. But he didn’t. He sat still with a growing grimace.

“You think you could stop scowling at me?” you said from your spot on the floor, sitting cross-legged with your back to him. “I can feel your distaste crawling up my spine.”

“I am not scowling,” he lied mulishly.

“Yes, you are, but whatever. I did ask if you wanted to add anything to the order. You were the one to turn your nose up at Chinese takeout. I guess you’re used to the finer things in life, Mr Nanami.”

His mouth opened to respond, but he snapped it shut just as quickly. He would not get into a petty argument over his preference of cuisine. The sinking feeling of resignation reared its head once more. Could he honestly share his apartment with you for the next two weeks without you both at each other’s throats?

“Remind me again why am I even considering hosting you?” He half hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and sat forward in his seat until his elbows were braced upon his knees.

You paused. The chopsticks you were using to pile rice onto an expensive-looking plate froze in midair. At last, you twisted your neck to look around, adopting a sheepish expression.

He was right, as annoying as that fact might be.

This was his home, and he had every right to send you on your merry way, whether you had somewhere to stay or not–the latter being the case. You were sharply reminded of his stricken features when you explained your plight. How he had grabbed up the glass which you had just finished draining of whatever potent amber liquor he preferred and went looking for a refill. A large one. A large one which he swallowed in one long gulp.

Kento had the same eyes as his sister, Karin. They were rich hazel, and they had the strange ability to lighten or darken depending on their mood. They crackled like popping logs in a roaring hearth when joyful or amused and darkened to the deepest mahogany when angered or upset. This you noticed as he questioned you over and over, his fingers running ruefully through his hair and those eyes that followed your every nervous jerk or twitch became pits of darkness.

“Sorry,” you said quietly. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you into sharing something with me? I ordered way too much, there will be leftovers for days if you don’t.” It was your version of a peace offering. Anything to prevent him from backtracking on the shaky agreement you had reached.

Kento’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought of leftovers crowding his fridge and the smells that might permeate into the fresh produce or homemade meals that were labelled and waiting to be eaten.

With a long sigh, he lowered himself to the floor and sat by your left elbow. “Fine. It is probably wise for me to put something other than alcohol in my stomach anyway. Serve yourself what you want and I’ll have what is left.”

“Aye, captain!”

“Don’t do that,” he scolded, rolling his eyes at your salute, but there was no heat in the words. If anything, he was amused and you smiled knowingly to yourself as you began to dig into the meal.

He must be truly mad to be entertaining this prospect, but there was something he liked about you, even if he tried his best to deny it. You pushed back against him. It was refreshing. Kento enjoyed your quick wit and the ease with which you conversed with him. Sure, it was often at his expense but it was enjoyable in a way it never had been before.

As the youngest ever senior partner at work, he commanded respect from all. The junior partners and even those on the governing board often bowed their heads in reverence when in his presence. Yet it wasn’t so long ago that he had been a fresh-faced college graduate eager to reach his current lofty heights and he wondered absently if you possessed the same drive and determination. You certainly weren’t easily intimidated.

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr Nanami?”

So lost in thought, Kento almost missed your question. It took him a moment to process and when it finally hit home, he nearly choked on his bite of peking duck.

“Excuse me?” he spluttered, banging a fist on his chest to clear the blockage in his throat.

Your cheeks warmed in amusement, impishly shrugging whilst you toyed with the remnants on your plate. It had been on your mind for a little while now. Your host was handsome—a thought you kept coming back to no matter how hard you tried to ignore it.

“I said, do you have a girlfriend?” you repeated.

“I don’t see what business that is of yours.”

He busied himself with rolling back the sleeves of his pristine white button up. Your lips quirked before you blew out a puff of air.

“Come on. It’s a simple question, no? Since you’ve agreed to give me a place to stay, surely I should know if I might run into someone else whilst I’m here.”

You had a point, and that bugged him. He was about to answer when you went on, nudging your elbow into his side and he caught a whiff of his body wash on your skin.

“Boyfriend then?” You baited him, though there would be no shame in it if he were more inclined towards his own sex. Other than perhaps the briefest disappointment. No! Shut that down now, you thought to yourself.

“Neither. If you must know.” He levelled an unimpressed stare in your direction and wiped his hands on a napkin.

How annoying the flare of hope that illuminated in your chest upon hearing his answer was. It had no place here, and you did your best to flatten your features into neutrality. You failed.

“I do, however, have a cleaner that visits each morning for a few hours to keep the place how I like it. I will alert Mrs McGarden that I have a guest so that she doesn’t enter your room without consent.” He nodded his head as if that was the end of the matter, trying and failing not to notice how you chewed your lip as if you were deep in thought. Cute.

“Speaking of rooms…” you trailed off as the first wave of tiredness hit you square in the face. It was early by your standards but the day had been filled with ups and downs like nothing you’d experienced before. “Where will I be sleeping?”

It was an innocent enough question, or you had meant it that way, but the lull that Kento left hanging over you both felt thick with something tangible but unknown. Right now your suitcase was still spread open wide on what you now knew to be his bed and you surely wouldn’t be sleeping there.

Before he could answer, his phone rang from the kitchen island, shrill and loud. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, hurriedly moving for the device and slipping down the hallway until he was out of sight.

“I can explain! Don’t yell.” The familiar voice said the second the phone was to his ear. Karin had finally braved his wrath and called back.

“I’ll give you two minutes.”

“Kento! I am not one of your underlings. Not that it matters, shut up. What was I saying?” Karin hissed through the phone and even without seeing her he knew that she was pushing hair out of her face as she always did when she was flustered or annoyed.

He sighed and silently counted to three. “Two. Minutes. Explain.”

“You’re meant to be out of the country, why aren’t you? I didn’t think you’d ever find out,” she hurried on, not waiting for an answer. Kento had long since known when not to interrupt his sister in full flow. “Mrs McGarden assured me that she would keep silent and I was only trying to help out a friend. She tried to refuse my offer. Said she’d find a couch or two to sleep on instead, can you imagine? You haven’t… kicked her out, have you?”

“I was firmly coerced into taking a vacation instead of attending the conference hence my presence. It seems I need to have words with Mrs McGarden as to where her loyalties lie, and no, I have not kicked your friend out,” he answered the questions in the order they were given, turning on the spot in his bedroom. “Though I have been sorely tempted,” he lied.

Karin audibly harrumphed. “Don’t lie, Kento, it’s not a good trait.”

“Who says I’m lying?”

“Oh, whatever. I don’t have time for your little temper tantrum. Y’know… I think she might be a good influence on you, relax you a little. You’re on vacation so maybe spend some time with your guest? She is very dear to me and I’ve got a lot of explaining to do since I never mentioned you to her.”

Kento could hear the genuine worry in her voice and it cooled some of the fires of his anger. His shoulders slumped and half-heartedly he agreed, even if he didn’t have any intention to do as Karin suggested. He would keep to himself and hope that you did the same.

He returned to the living room but found it empty. Glancing to the side he found you in the kitchen washing up the plates and humming. For a moment he simply stood and watched. Considering he had only just met you, he didn’t mind seeing you in his space and the words of his sister echoed in his mind.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he stated, finally making his presence known once more.

Smiling, you shrugged him off. “It was the least I could do, don’t worry about it.”

“Uh, Karin sends her apologies for the mixup. She assures me that she will make it up to you and explain everything when you see her next. Shall we pick a room for you now?”

Your chin jutted out, a wrinkle forming between your eyebrows at the mention of his sister. Kento could tell that Karin was going to be in for hell, and rightly so, when you reunited.

“Yes please, I’m pretty tired after… well, you know,” you stammered with an awkward laugh.

He did indeed know, though he would rather forget. Instead, he held out his arm for you to step ahead of him and followed you discreetly towards the two bedrooms that you could choose from.

The first was on the right and nearest to the living space, this was the room that Karin occupied when she visited and her mark was firmly stamped upon the interior. Kento watched from just outside the doorway as you tried and failed not to wince at the baby blue walls and the mountains of overstuffed pillows piled atop a cream bedspread with lace and frills.

In the corner stood her old dollhouse, untouched and in pristine condition thanks to a certain cleaner with whom he still needed to have several words with. You froze before it, curiosity lighting in your eyes and slowly you bent to inspect through the windows where the tiny families resided.

Before he could speak, you whirled around and brushed past with a soft apology for coming so close to him. Again, he could smell his body wash on you and he liked it even more this time.

“I don’t think this room will do,” you mused with downcast eyes.

“Not fond of dolls?” he guessed in what was more meant to be a joke but your guilty expression told him he had hit the nail on the head.

“There is another room, but… it’s next to my own. I hope you won’t mind?” Kento stalked forward and tilted his head in the direction of the room next to his.

You trotted after him and away from the prying eyes of the dolls in their fancy house, vowing silently not to enter that room again. You reached for him, anxious fingers clinging to the shirt encasing his bicep and tugging like a frightened child might do. It was his turn to freeze, his stare fixed on where you held him until he found your eyes and questioned the gesture without a word.

“You won’t tell her, will you? I just…” You shook your head and feigned a smile, you were being silly after all. “Nightmares as a child, that’s all.”

“My lips are sealed.” He smiled kindly until your hand fell away. “Now, come inside and see if this will do.”

He didn’t know what he’d do if it wasn’t, although he didn’t expect you were an overly demanding house guest even with the little he knew about you. He wasn’t above giving you his bed if it were necessary but it would be a last resort.

This room was decorated in soft pastel shades that were far less bright than the blue of Karin’s. The bed was turned down with what appeared to be an identical grey duvet to the one in the master bedroom.

There was a small vanity set opposite the window and a writing desk in the far corner. Everything was neutral in here, wiped clean as if it had never been occupied and it made you feel safe and warm.

“It’s perfect.”

Sitting on the corner of the bed, you glanced at Kento who stood respectfully in the door. He wasn’t looking at you, instead his eyes were wandering as if he were checking everything was clean enough. His frame filled the doorway, shoulders broad and imposing. Except you didn’t find him imposing, and that was the problem.

He must be at least five years older than you, not that you cared, you were a young woman not a teenager. You were reminded of how long you had gone without a boyfriend or even a lover. One night stands and casual situationships were never your thing so it had been some time since you had last felt an attraction like you did now.

This whole day felt like a fever dream.

You needed to rein in your train of thoughts but it was hard when Kento took a step deeper inside and the air seemed suddenly thick like syrup. His hands were deep in his pockets and finally he blew out a breath, making it easier for you to breathe too.

“If you’re sure. I’ll go grab your suitcase and bag for you,” he offered quietly.

It had to be your imagination but it seemed like he was struggling as much as you were. Although likely for a different reason. You were an unexpected guest and he very much seemed the type of person who was set in routine. You nodded your thanks and let him slip away.

“He is your best friend’s brother, get your act together woman! Stop lusting over him,” you scolded yourself in a hushed whisper.

It was going to be a long two weeks, that was for sure.

#delirious writes #nanami x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami fluff #jjk x reader #jjk fluff

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empresskylo · 10 months ago

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'*•.¸♡ — simon 'ghost' riley' x fem!reader

you wanna kiss me so bad — part 2 (wc 1.4k)

part 1 [this can still be read w/o reading pt 1]

You had taken Ghost’s jests in stride. He clearly wanted to one-up you; wanting to show you and Soap he could be just as comical.

At least he wasn’t angry when you teased him. But still, you hadn’t expected him to respond the way he had.

You were used to playful teasing, like you would with a sibling. And normally, you could handle crude remarks, always making those with Soap. But when it came to Ghost, something about the way he said them bothered you more than it should have.

You had refrained from talking to Ghost, saving anything you had to say for a later date. Ghost found your response… odd. You went from slowly opening up, joking with the team lightheartedly, to closed off and seemingly lacking any ounce of humor.

You pulled your jacket tighter as you made it outside, spotting Soap and Ghost up ahead, loading the truck for the upcoming mission.

Ghost stopped what he was doing and stared at you. You froze, your brows furrowing at his sudden shift. Even Soap paused what he was doing to look up at Lt.

“Yes?” You asked him, a bit confused.

“You’re wearing that?” Ghost asked you exasperated, his eyes looking you up and down.

You felt your face heat. You were literally wearing the same outfit as half the men on the team. It was a uniform after all. He sounded like Soap with his stupid joke. “I guess I am,” you mumbled. You leaned over and picked up a crate to shove on the truck.

Soap smirked, clearly entertained by the awkwardness between you and Ghost.

You loaded the gear quietly for several moments before Ghost met your rhythm, walking beside you as you both carried duffel bags.

“Calling me stupid one minute, t’not having my jokes at all,” he mumbled. “Can’t seem to figure you out.”

He thought you might not answer him again. You huffed as you tossed the bag onto the truck then turned to face him. “You ever considered the fact that maybe you’re just not that good at puzzles?”

You couldn’t see, but Ghost smiled under his mask. Soap snickered in the background. Ghost turned and leaned against the truck, all the gear loaded up, and crossed his arms.

“Guess I just prefer a more hands-on approach.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. You averted his eyes, trying to act like his words weren’t flustering you. Teasing was so much more fun when it was just ludicrous jabs. Whatever this was that Ghost kept pulling, was leaving you speechless, and you hated it. You wonder if you’d respond the same if it was anyone else saying these things to you.

Soap bumped his shoulder against Ghost, finally forcing his eyes away from you. “If y’need the practice L.t., I wouldn’t mind—”

“If you finish that sentence, Johnny, I swear to god.”

Soap laughed and climbed into the back of the humvee.

You refrained from glaring at Ghost the entire ride, though it took a lot of willpower. You swear you could feel the heat of his gaze along your neck. You were determined to fluster him like he had been doing to you.

And of course, when the team split up, you were somehow stuck with Ghost. It’s like the gods enjoyed torturing you.

You clutched the sniper closer to your chest, the winter wind sending a chill down your spine. You followed Ghost in silence to the lookout point, your boots crunching the half-melted snow.

Once on target, you laid prone on your stomach, aiming your rifle into the distance. You checked down the barrel, looking out for any of the men on your team, trying to spot them. Ghost still hadn’t gotten down beside you yet.

“Squattin’ too hard on the joints, Lt.?” You teased, keeping your one eye squared through your scope.

“If you’re as good a shot as you are at runnin’ your mouth, this is a shoe in,” he muttered, a bit annoyed. You grinned, knowing he couldn’t see, with a bit of satisfaction at getting under his skin.

Ten minutes had passed and still nothing had happened. You got up onto your knees and looked over at Ghost. He was sitting in the same position, tapping on his tablet to locate the men. You noticed his fingers turning red from the cold, his gloves tucked up under his arm so he could use the screen.

“Pretty cold out here, Lt.,” you began casually.

His eyes flickered to you briefly before going right back to what he was doing.

“Should hold my hand. You know… so it doesn’t freeze.”

You heard Ghost laugh through his nose, his eyes still focused downward.

You turned back to your sniper and saw Ghost shift out of the corner of your eye. You glanced over and you bit your lip to keep from gaping. Ghost had continued what he was doing, but his free hand was nonchalantly outstretched, palm open and turned up for you to take as he concentrated on the GPS tracker.

When you didn’t take his hand he looked up. “What? That all talk, then?” He mocked.

This whole teasing thing didn’t really work when the participating party wanted all the stupid things you offered.

You decided to play things his way then. You reached out and slid your hand into his. He glared at you, almost like he was overly confident you weren’t going to call his bluff.

You wanted to show him you were just as committed to the bit as he was.

“Didn’t take you for the affectionate type, Lieutenant.” You laced your fingers together and gave him a saccharine smile.

He shook his head, shoving his tool back into his bag before tugging you towards him, his grip firm around your hand. “Affection is a weakness,” he explained.

“Oh! So is that why you haven’t kissed me yet? Afraid to be weak?”

He knew exactly what you were doing. You were intimidated when he fired remarks back at you, ones that stumped you and left you flustered. You were trying to outdo him; to make him flustered. And Ghost was more than pleased.

He tugged you so close you had to use your hand not tangled in his to catch his chest, stopping you from flying into him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

“So, what if I would?” You threw his words from the other day back at him.

“This is a game you can’t win, sergeant,” he growled out, his eyes locked on yours, unwavering as he stared you down.

“No? N’ why’s that?” You asked cooly, trying to mask the fact that your heart was racing. “You think I’m lying?” You were… weren’t you?

Ghost’s eyes narrowed, his mind reeling behind his glare. You swallowed and he traced the way your throat bobbed. Before you had the chance to say more, Ghost used his free hand to push his mask up to his nose, baring his chin and lips to you. He grabbed the front of your tactical vest, his fingers looping into the fabric, and pulled you level with him, your eyes turning to moons.

“What are ya gonna have t’say once I prove ya wrong?” He asked.

You bit your lip, steadying your rapid breaths. “You won’t.”

Ghost grinned and you were so shocked by seeing his mouth for the first time, watching his lips tip up into a smile, that you didn’t realize he had closed the distance between the two of you until it was too late.

The kiss wasn’t long, just enough to be more than a peck. You were surprised at how soft his lips were, and how his faint stubble tickled.

He broke apart, pushing you backwards and dropping both his hands.

Maybe he had taken things too far. He averted his gaze while you stared up at him dumbly. Ghost smirked, a bit too proud of himself for stumping you. And he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t actually wanted to kiss you. No, he was itching to kiss you far more than what just unfolded.

“At least that got you to finally shut your mouth.” You could hear the playful lilt in his voice and it made your chest beat rapidly. You never expected to share a kiss with your lieutenant. And you never thought you’d catch feelings for him. But here you were.

What had you gotten yourself into?

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #mw3 #ghost mw3

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feyascorner · 1 year ago

Text

6 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You remember how the sunlight glistened against his skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press the sharp end against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, reader is a bard

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. 6.4k words,,,tav is better than me i would've thrown hands like twelve years ago,,,I HAVE NO IDEA HOW I WROTE THIS IN LIKE TWO DAYS???? also thank you for all your comments they really motivate me to write!! so have this monster of a chapter early as thanks!!

"You'll kill them, Astarion," you mumble. "They might not have had the power to help you, but they're still your siblings. I don't want them to die hating you."

"They're not my siblings--not really. I don't care what they think of me. Hells, they could haunt me even in the afterlife, as annoying as that would be, but they're no innocents either. They've brought in as many souls as I have," he responds, his jaw visibly clenching at the thought. "I don't care if all seven thousand of them die hating me as long as you're here."

And while you feel flattered, you can't disregard the worry driving a hole through your conscience. Ever perceptive, he lifts a hand to brush stray strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips tracing your jaw. His voice is but a hushed whisper.

"You understand, don't you, my love? It would set me free--after two hundred years of forcing myself through hell--I can finally free myself from Cazador," his tone sours at just the mention of his master's name, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, drawing your attention back to him.

"It is what you want for me, no? For me to be happy?"

It is what you want. Just not like this.

Music was your way of releasing the mountain of feelings you kept locked away in your chest, waiting for the right person to recognize them for what they are. You’d hoped someone would understand the meaning behind your lyrics without you telling them outright, and they’d know what it truly meant to you. And for a while, you’d believed Astarion would be the key to this safe.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

“While I usually entertain your certainly out-of-the-box plans, this is bordering on just foolish, I’m afraid,” Gale sighs, eyes tracing you as you pace around the house, stuffing every possible weapon and healing potion into a brown sack. Despite his insistence, you ignore him, testing the blade of a knife against the edge of the table. It’s not entirely dull, nor is it sharper than the dagger in your drawer, but it’ll have to do. “Simply charging into the tavern won’t do much good if you’ll be overwhelmed in number anyway.”

“I know what I’m doing, Gale,” you hiss, snatching an Alchemist’s Fire and shoving it a tad too hard into your bag. He tenses. “If they want to talk to me so badly, then I’m not waiting around for them to attack another one of my friends—I’ll go to them.”

“Yes, your determination is certainly praise-worthy, but can we please just sit down and think this through before running into a battlefield with a few knives? This is basically a suicide mission.”

“The wizard is right, even if it’s hard to believe,” Lae’zel announces from the corner of the room, wiping a cloth on her sword. “When I arrived, they’d already fled. They could be anywhere by now, and they’ve had more than enough time to plan another ambush if we were to charge now. We must be smart about this. I am a warrior, but I am no fool.”

“I’ll go by myself,” you say, a sense of finality in your voice. “They already showed what they’d do if someone they didn’t want to talk to approached them. I’ll just talk to them.”

Gale stares with lidded eyes. “So why are you packing so many explosives, exactly?”

“...Precaution?”

Silence befalls the room, and you take it as a sign to finish your preparations. All you can hear is the crackling of the fireplace and the rain falling against the windows of the home. The lot of you had somehow managed to stabilize Shadowheart by the time Lae’zel returned, and while she’d been conscious earlier, you insisted she rest before she consumed herself with the investigation again. You didn’t miss the way she limped back to her room with little to protest against you.

“Take the spawn with you.”

Two jaws drop at the words, the only one remaining fixed belonging to Lae’zel.

“The kainyank is living here to help. Not cause more problems for us. And so far, he’s only done one of the two things, and I’m dangerously close to turning to my blade if he doesn’t choose otherwise,” she says. “The spawn are searching for him, too. If blood breaks out, you must use him to flee safely.”

Gale blinks. “As in…use him as a body shield?”

“What else is he good for?”

While the wizard seems positively appalled, you can see the contemplation flicker in his eyes before he shakes his head. He's always been more considerate than the rest of you. “No, Tav would never agree to such a-”

“Okay.”

They both whip their heads toward you, and you avoid their piercing gazes, staring down at the dull blade in your hand. “It might help, too, if we find out why they want him. There are nearly 3000 spawns in the city—we can’t kill all of them, at least not immediately. It’d be best if we convinced them to leave, and the best way of doing that is to understand what they want in the first place.”

Lae’zel narrows her eyes. “Then you must swear it. Swear that if Astarion were to face risks, you will leave him behind. If he were to turn on you, you slice through his throat without a second of hesitation. He is there to aid you–nothing else.”

“I will,” the words feel hot on your tongue.

And so, you soon find yourself standing in front of his door, hand reaching for the door handle. There’s a slight pause right as you touch the cool metal, but you bite your tongue and shove it open, praying he’s still not as ravenous as he was a few hours ago. And much to your surprise, he appears wholly composed.

He lowers his book to his lap, eyes training themselves on you as they dart from your bag and then back to your face. The window’s wide open, bathing him in the moonlight, with dark curtains tied to the wall to keep them from obscuring his view of the city. He raises a brow. “What could you possibly want from me at two in the morning? Come here for a cuddle?”

You’re scowling again.

“I need you-”

“I’m flattered, but I fear you may stab a butter knife into my eye, so I’ll have to decline.”

“Not like that.” Your frown creases deeper at his smug grin. “We’re going to the Blushing Mermaid to find the spawn.”

“Just us?”

“They want to see us.”

“And if I refuse?”

The answer is almost immediate, cutting through the atmosphere like a knife on bread. “I hear the bloody bedrolls in the Duke’s dungeon are very comfortable.”

He drops his smile at this, and a tiny spark of pride puffs your chest. He seems to weigh his choices before snapping his book shut and standing from the bed, snatching a comb from his bedside table before pacing up to you, pocketing it behind him.

"A comb?"

He shrugs as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, I doubt you’ll be giving me a weapon of any sort, so I must make do.”

You don’t correct him.

As the two of you make your way downstairs, you hear your other companions speaking.

“I didn’t expect you of all people to defend Astarion,” Gale says in disbelief, still comprehensive as Lae’zel poorly cuts up slices of an apple.

“I am doing no such thing, istik,” she mutters. “I am giving him a choice. Either to pick up his dead weight and prove his life is worth more than the dirt on my shoes or die at my hand.”

The walk to the Blushing Mermaid is painfully awkward. To you, anyway, because he seems positively unbothered the entire time. Seeing him leisurely follow behind you is irritating—and it bothers you more than you’d like to admit.

By the time you survey the area around the tavern, you’ve discerned they must be inside, considering there are no ambushes awaiting your arrival. While it’s a relief, it also increases the anxiety of what lies inside the tavern itself, and you confirm your knives are at your disposal if it were ever to come to that. You sincerely hope it doesn’t. Astarion sighs dramatically for the umpteenth time as you approach the front doors, and you finally snap to look at him with a glare.

“Will you stop breathing so damn loud?”

The change in your attitude toward him is apparent, but he doesn't seem to care. If anything, he seems more pleased with you than he was before every time you shoot him an annoyed glance or something along those lines. He responds with lazy answers, but it's better than the bitter ones he gave you before.

You're not terribly surprised, though. He's always loved pissing people off for his own entertainment, and it would be an understatement to say that he's been somewhat successful with you.

“I’m not breathing, my dear. I don’t need to, remember?”

“Then what is your problem?” you hiss between your teeth. “Are you trying to wake up the entire city with your insistent groaning?”

“Must we do this tonight, of all days? Couldn’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No!” you say in exasperation. “That gives them too much time to heal and recover from Shadowheart and Gale. It has to be tonight, just in case they do decide to fight—then we’ll have an easier time because, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s just us two!”

He sighs again, and you swear you might pluck a strand of his hair for good measure. And just as you shove past him and reach for the door, he clears his throat again. Loudly.

“For God’s sake, what?” you nearly yell.

He smiles at you, pointing at the front door. “Well, if we’re looking to avoid an ambush, perhaps we should find another way in than the main entrance. Unless my prior knowledge as a rogue proceeds me.”

You blink. You recognize the validity of his statement and feel your face flare, and you immediately march past him again—the other way this time—and search for the nearest wall you can climb up to the roof. You hear him snicker, but you do your best to ignore it.

Somehow, you manage to climb in through the window, admittedly a lot louder than him, but you don’t think it’s fair to compare yourself to him when he has footsteps lighter than a child’s. Hidden behind one of the tables, you peer into the rest of the tavern, which is completely empty save for the bottles of alcohol scattered everywhere. You turn to signal to him that the coast is clear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Immediately, your face drains of color.

“Right here, darling.”

He drops down from seemingly thin air, and you gasp, nearly letting out a shriek if it weren’t for your hand covering your mouth. He grins at that.

Bastard.

“There’s nobody in the entire building–at least, not visible to the eye,” he confirms, glancing around the room.

“How do you know that?”

He points at the ceiling, and your eyes follow it. “Someone decided to build such useful beams on the roof. You can see the entire place from up there. Care to take a look?”

While you would have thanked him if he had been any other person, you only march straight by him. “Don’t do anything without telling me first.”

“No ‘thanks, Astarion’?” He quirks a brow but huffs when you ignore him. “Very well then, my liege. No need to acknowledge a humble servant such as I. But I shall let you know when I’m about to take any questionable decision.”

You’re starting to wonder if his presence is worth the headache it gives you.

Pacing around the tavern, it seems all too normal. No blood splatters against the wall, no broken chairs—hells, even the booze cups look clean, which is a rarity for the Blushing Mermaid. You check each room, inspecting down to the last cups in case there are traces of blood in them, but to no avail.

It’s like there was never anyone here.

“You look like you’re having trouble, my dear,” Astarion clicks his tongue mockingly, leaning back in one of the more luxurious chairs he’s decided is his own.

“Considering the only company I decided to bring along is lounging around like a bum, I’m not surprised,” you say back, now searching the smallest cracks in the walls for some sort of secret passage. It’s strange. Even though your companions had spoken of the bodies they encountered when facing the spawn, there’s not a single speck of blood in sight. Neither is there anything outside but the whistle of the wind.

“This particular wall must be quite fascinating.”

You fight the need to groan and whip around to snap at him, but he’s suddenly just a foot away from you, staring at the spot you’d been squinting at. Gods, you hate how quiet he is when he walks.

“As wonderful as it is getting a fresh breath of air,” he feigns disappointment with a half-hearted sigh, turning to walk toward the entrance. “I believe we’ve done what we can. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d love to return to my book–”

The wooden floor underneath him creaks. It sounds hollow.

As if there’s something underneath.

“The basement,” you blink, eyes wide. “The hag’s lair.”

He stares at you as if you’ve taken too many mushrooms. “It was sealed up after we rid of that dreadful woman. Good riddance, too, I mean, I’m not particularly fond of children, but eating them, even I wouldn’t be able–”

You rush toward the very corner of the tavern, sensing that he’s following you regardless of his obvious distaste toward your decision. There, you push against a table perched on top of the basement latch and test its locks.

It’s open.

“Heavens, it reeks here. How didn’t I smell it before?”

“Of what?” You sniff the air. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Blood, my dear. Fairly recent, too, if my judgment hasn’t gotten rusty in the time I’ve spent cooped up in that room,” he pauses. “And I haven’t gotten rusty, to be clear.”

“Right,” you retort, reaching down to pull the latch open. You don’t see him do the same, and you glance at him quizzically.

“Gods no,” he says, when he realizes why you’re staring. “I’m doing no such thing that ruins these nails.”

You sigh. Loudly.

The latch opens relatively easily, but you make an effort not to simply swing it open in fear the occupants inside might be warned of your arrival. You prop the trap door open against a chair and begin your descent down the stairs, remaining as silent as possible.

The first thing you can notice is that he’d been right.

The stench of blood burns in your nose, and you immediately cover it with your sleeve to avoid inhaling anymore. You’ve smelt enough of your companion’s blood today, and you’d rather not continue the streak with the blood of complete strangers. Astarion, however, frowns.

“Such a waste,” he mumbles.

When you turn to where he’s looking, there’s a pile of bodies—poor victims, no doubt—lying over a puddle of their collective blood mixing with one another. It almost feels inhumane to leave them that way, just hours after their death, as if they’re cattle to be used.

Though, in this case, they are cattle.

“Are you sure it’s them?”

“I’m telling you it is!”

“Where’s their lyre, then?”

“How would I know that?”

You locate the source of the whispers instantly, reaching for one of your daggers as your eyes bore into the corners of the lair that are obscured from your view. Astarion steps forward before you can figure out a plan to approach them, arrogance exuding from his very body as he holds nothing but the comb tucked in his back pocket. “We can hear you, you fools. Come out before I lose my patience.”

“What are you doing?” you hiss.

“They’re only a few spawns, my dear. Nothing like Cazador—no need to be so cautious.”

You open your mouth to protest, but a woman emerges from the shadows, her eyes trained on your own as she marvels at your mere presence. You realize she’s not alone as multiple vampires begin to emerge from different corners of the room, all a safe distance away but not enough to ease the nerves jittering in your stomach. She steps toward you. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”

Another spawn steps beside her, and you immediately notice how ravenous he seems, eyes almost glistening with hunger as they bore straight into you. The woman puts a hand on his neck, seemingly soothing him, before he slumps his shoulders again, but the pure violence swirling in his head doesn’t seem to vanish. She then looks to Astarion, and the expression on her face morphs into something more akin to dread. “And you, brother.”

“Dalyria.” Astarion only stares with lidded eyes, visibly unfazed.

You instinctively scan the entire lair, searching for any differences you can spot since the last time you were here. The only glaring thing besides the bodies piled in the corner is the study desk on the other side of the room, scattered with different potions and concoctions. Behind the desk is an entire wall plastered with diagrams—most of which study the anatomy and functionality of what you can only determine to be a vampire judging from the fangs. There are also beds everywhere—though they look like they could collapse any second—and the room almost looks like a hospital.

The atmosphere between the siblings is so uncomfortable you’d think they’ll start attacking one another any second.

“Is Leon here?” you finally cut through, lowering your hand away from your blade. “I need to speak with him—technically, all of you.”

“How curious. We were hoping to speak with you as well,” she says, motioning all the other spawn to stand down. It does little to ease you. “By all means, feel free to go first.”

You take the opportunity, too exhausted, to demonstrate polite etiquette. “The spawn are causing too much trouble in the city, Dalyria. They’re killing too many people, and it’s getting noticed by more than enough people. At this rate, you’ll lose some of your own if the Fist figure out how you guys are hiding throughout the city.”

“...Yes, I’m aware.”

The resignation in her voice makes your throat bob, but you continue anyway. “I’m saying we need to get you guys somewhere more stable. Whether it be the Underdark or elsewhere, we can’t have you staying here.”

“I see,” she says slowly. “I appreciate you trying to talk this out with us, but I’m afraid I cannot grant your request.”

Your shoulders tense, and you can see Astarion shift beside you. “You don’t understand, sister. There’s going to be an outright war at this rate-”

“Baldur’s Gate is our home as well, Astarion. You, of all people, should know this,” she demands. ��We have a right to remain here, and if the Fist insists on forcing us out, we have no choice but to retaliate.”

“But you’re killing the city off!” you gawk in disbelief, unable to believe what you’re hearing.

“We’re surviving,” she corrects, the corners of her lips turning downward. “Surely you can’t hate us for that.”

“Then…” you blink at her, positively appalled at her words. “Why the hells did you need to speak with me? What was worth putting my companion through hell?”

“...There is a way—for both parties to benefit.” She looks down at her hands, then back up at you. “I didn’t expect the both of you to come together. Our informants were correct when they claimed to see Astarion in your possession. In all honesty, we technically only needed one of you, but this makes things a lot quicker.”

Confused but desperately wanting an answer, you urge her to continue. Only you can see the way Astarion’s hand slips toward his pocket, where his comb lies.

“We were going to ask you to bring him to us, you see. But it appears you’ve already done the hard part.”

The dreaded intuition in the back of your mind tells you something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

“Me? What do you need me for?” he scowls.

She disregards him and continues speaking to you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. “If you turn him over to us, you’ll never have to see him again. That is what you want, yes?”

Both you and the pale elf freeze.

“I watched as my brother nearly killed you the day of the ritual,” she continues. “I understand how you feel being betrayed by someone you thought shared your pain. And I believe this is a way to relieve you of that pain—and finally move onto a new stage of your life.”

She acts as if Astarion is the only thing holding you from moving on from the past few months of your life. And if she’d said so a week ago, you would have nothing to defend yourself with. But you’ve cut the few strings left that tie yourself to him. You remind yourself that you no longer care for him, regardless of the slight squeeze in your chest. You’ve already sworn to force yourself to disregard him, and you want to say all these things to her, but nothing comes out. So, instead, you keep your mouth sealed.

Astarion scoffs from beside you.

“For God’s sake, please tell me you’re not actually considering this. Let’s just force the madwoman out and go,” his voice attempts to stay firm, but it’s high-pitched at the end. He’s panicking.

You don’t respond to him, and he stiffens. “...My main concern is the city. If you think you can use my personal matters to convince me to just let you keep killing all these people–”

“That matter will resolve itself in its own time. We’ll return to the Underdark—or wherever it is you wish, and you won’t have to spend your nights hunting us down anymore.”

With a dry throat, you fixate your gaze on her face, desperately trying to discern any hint of a crack in her mask. Instead, you find nothing. “Why would you do that? For one spawn?”

“I’m afraid that’s for me and my siblings to know. But I can promise you that no harm will come to you if you take this deal.”

For what seems like the millionth time this month, you have no idea what to do. Lae’zel’s words flood you like a wave crashing onto shore as you remind yourself that Astarion is here not as your ally but as a shield. If things are as Dalyria says, simply turning over the man standing next to you would end this entire ordeal. You could return to your everyday life of repairing the city, learning to heal and grow from the terrors of the illithid invasion. You could learn to let people in again.

You could learn to play music again in hopes of finding the person you dreamed would understand.

Such an enticing, perfect deal. It’s almost too perfect. But you’ve learned not to trust perfection, especially when handed to you by a vampire spawn.

Astarion, who had been observing your expression this whole time, almost seems to read your mind. Or perhaps he’s just feeling selfish, ready to defend himself. “You’ve created a lot of problems for me, dear sister. I’ve gotten accused of your own murders, thanks to your pets.”

The delirious spawn, who’d looked sluggish after Dalyria’s soothing, now bares his teeth at Astarion. Dalyria attempts to calm him again, but it’s no use. The bloodthirst cannot be satiated unless there’s blood spilled on his very hands.

Astarion doesn’t seem to take a hint—or maybe he does but chooses to simply ignore it. “I’ve always known you were strange, Dalyria, but really? Experimenting with your ‘useless procedures’ on fresh spawns? He looks positively possessed, sister. He might just resort to eating you instead.”

“They are not useless, Astarion,” she snaps. “I am a doctor. I’m only curing what needs to be cured.”

“Then tell me why you haven’t managed to cure yourself of our curse? You may be intelligent in medical aspects, but gods above, you are more foolish than Cazador himself if you really think you can cure vampirism.”

“I had nobody to test my ideas on for two centuries, Astarion! Now that I do, surely I can-”

“You’re starving them, Dalyria,” he snaps, tone drastically different from the banter you shared just minutes ago. “And they’ll give into the thirst sooner or later.”

His words are the final straw.

The spawn who’d been standing beside her launches himself toward you. Before you can even register what’s happening, his fangs are at your throat, your neck tilted so it shoots pain up your side. Just as you feel your skin split at the tips of his canines, Astarion rips him away from you so harshly that the spawn flies helplessly into the wall, which crumbles under his weight. Dust flies into your eyes, and you cough, wiping at them until it clears just enough to see Dalyria staring in horror.

“I told you, Dalyria. You are no doctor, not anymore,” Astarion scoffs, eyes narrowed into slits. “And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill my liege here, as I’d much hate to be trapped in a cell somewhere underground.”

You reach the specks of blood drops forming on your neck, horrified by the close encounter you had with death just seconds ago. The culprit of your injury lies unconscious beside the cracked wall, and you wonder just how hard he had to be thrown to be rendered in such a state. You can see the other spawns’ eyes practically glow at the sight of your blood—fresh, unlike the pile of corpses on the other side of the room.

She turns to you, desperation pouring from the wavering of her voice. “Please, don’t make me do this. Don’t make us enemies. All you need to do is give us Astarion. My brother, for heaven's sake!”

You think better of it. Something that obviously pleases Astarion if the way his face relaxes tells you anything.

“May I?” he glances at you.

Surely, there are ways–more civilized ways–-than drawing your blade, but the ferocious growling from the rest of the spawn tells you otherwise. You need to find out why she needs Astarion so badly, and clearly, she’s not willing to tell you unless it’s through pure force. You despise the idea as much as you despise the predicament you’re in, but you refuse to be attacked and deliver nothing back. Just as you nod to his question, another spawn lunges, unable to resist the red staining your neck.

But it’s smart this time, choosing to eliminate any threats before turning to the full course. In this case, the only thing between you and the vampires is another vampire.

“Brother!” Dalyria shouts, horrified.

You don't bother calling his name, only barely manage to tackle Astarion out of the way before the spawn’s claw sinks into the very ground he was standing on just seconds ago.

As embarrassing as it is to practically crash on top of him, both of you wince because it’s more painful than anything. You force yourself up with your arms, and it’s then that you see even more spawn crawling from whatever shadows they hid in, and you realize you are terribly and most definitely outnumbered. By a lot.

“Dalyria, if you’re truly a doctor, do something! Stop them, godsdammit!” you shriek in her direction.

“They’re not—they were doing so well!...” she gasps before she reaches for a tattered journal and desperately files through its pages in a frenzy. “They were nearly docile before. I don’t know why–”

You feel Astarion’s hands slip out of the sack you carry on your back, realizing you hadn’t even noticed him opening it. He’s still lying flat on the ground, and you look down at him, puzzled before he laughs bitterly.

“I’ll be borrowing this for a few minutes, darling.”

You barely dodge another spawn that comes flying at you, rolling off of him and practically slamming into the wall. And before you can crawl away, your knife—in Astarion’s hand—stabs through the spawn’s left eye through the back of their head, specks of their blood splattering against your cheek.

You want to throw up.

“No, don’t harm them! Please, just let us go!” Dalyria pleads, but you’re finished being patient with her. She clearly has no way of calming the spawn, and you’re tired of being thrown around like a ragdoll in the mess that is the lair.

You yank out the Alchemist’s Fire and chuck it at the nearest cluster of spawn—around 2 or 3—and flinch as the vial collides and explodes into flames right before your eyes, blowing your hair out of your face in a gust of smoke and wind. You swear you hear Astarion cackle in utter glee at the destruction, but you choose not to dwell on it, too busy figuring out how else you could get out of here alive.

“You’re ruining the patients!” Dalyria screams, and you almost regret not throwing the vial at her instead.

“Your spawn are the ones attacking us!”

Suddenly, her face goes impossibly pale, and you hear a hiss of pain from a few feet away. Astarion winces as one of the spawn claws at his chest leaves behind a reasonably deep wound following the path of their sharp nails. Your knife is kicked away from him, and you hear Dalyria again just as he reaches for the comb instead. “Brother, be careful!”

You’re not sure if she wants you and Astarion dead or not, but it’s seriously giving you backlash at this point.

He stabs the comb into the spawn’s neck and kicks him away, and you take the opportunity to send the knife he dropped through the air.

By some miracle, it pierces straight through the spawn’s arm. Astarion lets out a breathy laugh from the floor, attention glued to your handiwork. “Ha! And to think that could have been me!”

And while you want to admire your aim yourself, there’s no time. Dalyria’s footsteps rush up the stairs, out of the basement, and you realize you need to follow moments after Astarion, who’s already fleeing up the steps, cursing under his breath. “That demented wench!”

You stand to follow after him, but the remaining spawns are already blocking your way. There are only two more, but you brace yourself for the worst, reaching for whatever remaining weapons you have left in your sack. The smoke and debris feel suffocating in your lungs, but you have no choice but to push through, praying to whatever God you can remember at the moment that this be the last time you have to fight this many vampire spawn. Or any, for that matter.

You wish you had left your fighting days behind you when you defeated the elder brain, but you suppose even that was too much to ask for.

You arrive just in time to see the sunrise.

Lying against a wall is Astarion, who you find just before the sunlight hits the part of the ground he’s on. He’s clutching his shoulder, which drips with his own blood, and showing no signs of the quick vampire regeneration. You stare down at him, face stoic as you wait for him to say something.

Judging from his condition, you assume Dalyria got away.

“Leaving me to die here would be unwise,” he scoffs. “Though it’d be rather easy to let me burn to death in the sun, I must remind you that I much rather prefer decapitation if it’s all the same to you.”

“I’ll consider it,” you reply curtly. "Can't promise anything, though."

He leans his head back, amused. The sunlight is just a few feet away now, and you wonder how long it's been since he's been outside to watch the sunrise. “You’ve always had a cruel streak in you. I just had to lure it out, sometimes, but when it did come out—Gods, you should have seen it yourself.”

“You’re delirious,” you remind him, observing just how much blood he’s losing. You remind yourself of your resentment when worry probes a small part of your heart. One that you hope dies soon. “Why aren’t you healing?”

“I haven’t been exactly feeding well, unfortunately. And days old boar’s blood can only sustain me so long, darling,” he lulls his head forehead, sneering to himself. “Now that I think about it, dying by sunlight sounds rather poetic, don’t you think? Perhaps you can make a song about my glorious death.”

He’s definitely unhinged from blood loss.

You sigh, tossing his arm over your shoulder as you deem the sunlight a bit too close now. It’s a slow process with your own body’s soreness, but you manage to drag him to a more shaded area, propping him against the wall there so that you can rummage through your sack for a healing potion. You stop when his hand latches onto your arm.

“What?” you frown.

“It won’t help. I need blood, my dear.”

“There’s none for you here.”

“The bodies in the basement,” he bites back a groan, more blood gushing out of his shoulder. “I can make use of them--give their deaths a sense of purpose."

The displeasure on your face must be apparent because he laughs.

You pause, lowering the sack onto the ground. While you’re illuminated by the sunlight now, he remains in the shadow of the building, only able to see the sun with how it reflects off of your skin. And you find that he’s no longer looking at you but looking past you into the glowing orb you call the sun. You remember how its light glistened against his own skin the morning after your first night together. The longing in his eyes for the very same thing now makes your stomach churn.

It might have suit him even more than the moonlight.

With an irritable sigh, you take your blade and press its tip against the tip of your finger.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you alive,” you reply, pushing your fingertip now with a bead of blood trickling down its side, toward his face. “Drink.”

His eyes widen, and the temptation is more than evident with how his mouth falls open as if he tastes your blood from a few inches away. But as fast as it had come, he tears his eyes away. “I’m not taking your blood.”

“Stop with your prideful act, Astarion. You’re going to bleed out.”

“I wouldn’t die, exactly. I would just remain unconscious until I can properly heal myself.”

You spare him a long, hard stare. He refuses to look at you, biting the inside of his cheek to ignore the scent of your blood. And it's painfully clear he's failing.

You have no idea why he's so insistent on avoiding your blood, but you refuse to spend your own time pondering it.

“Fine then.”

He watches in utter loss as you lick the blood off of your finger, shrugging. “Bleed out for all I care.”

You turn to stand, but his hand latches on your arm once more. You’re not sure if you’re imagining how warm he feels, but you think you must be. He's always been terribly cold.

“Do you hate me now?” he asks again, this time staring up at you through his lashes. “Have I finally run through your patience?”

The question remains the same as he asked you a week ago, but it feels different now. This time, you know your answer, and it feels so, so relieving. You just wish you could understand his own feelings, but his expression is so superficial you don’t even attempt it.

“Yes,” you reply blankly. “I hate you.”

He takes a moment to process your words. You have to admit it’s satisfying to say it to his face, even if your hatred for him is new. But perhaps because it’s new is why you feel it so strongly, and you silently thank it for how confident you sound saying the words. Even if they taste bitter. You think he might have some quip to respond with, but he only smiles, and as usual, it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You never want to see it again.

Without another word, he pulls you down to him, and you nearly topple over before stabilizing yourself with either of your knees on either side of his legs. He breathes against your neck, and you think he might drink from you until you feel his fingers brush against your nape. Immediately, your body freezes like a deer in headlights, flinching at his touch as your mind involuntarily forces the last memories you have of his hands on your neck.

And ever so perceptive, he notices how you recoil from his touch.

You hate your body for reacting the way it does out of fear. Not the disgust or the anger, but something much more pathetic, and you want to go back on your own actions to stop yourself from appearing so weak to him. You think he might tease you--taunt you, even, but he stops, slowly pulling away and lowering his head from the crook between your shoulder and head.

You’re unable to see his face, but his movements seem more sluggish.

Instead of going for your neck, he lifts your wrist, brushing his lips against it before sinking his teeth into the tender flesh.

Despite the initial sting, it’s a feeling you’ve grown accustomed to over time. With him, it had always felt so intimate. It’s why you can’t help but feel heat bloom across your cheeks before you remind yourself you no longer care for him. Only when you think he’s drinking a bit too long do you try to pull away, but his arm loops around your waist, bringing you even closer as the amount of blood he’s taking increases with how deep his fangs are.

You feel so cold, yet heat burns through your very blood. It makes your head dizzy, and you take it as a sign that he’s had enough.

You only manage to speak a few seconds later, breathless. “Astarion.”

He pulls away, seemingly out of breath himself as he releases his hold on the rest of your body. He runs his tongue over the access, staining the side of his mouth. He uses his finger to make sure the rest is off his face. “I know.”

He rarely feeds so messily, so you discern he wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t been drinking well. Knowing he wasn’t deceiving you brings little relief, but it’s still a welcome feeling. Rubbing at your wrist and the two puncture wounds now residing there, you stand up and slug your sack over your shoulder. He watches you the entire time, and you hate that you can never seem to read his expressions—only one, and that’s whenever he claims to despise your very existence.

His shoulder has already stopped bleeding.

“Why didn’t you drink from those people at Sharess’ Caress?” you finally say.

“Their blood…” he pauses, trailing off, and suddenly he seems to change his mind. “...I've grown tired of it.”

“Blood is just blood, isn’t it?”

He stares at you for a moment, then laughs.

“I wish it was, darling.”

Tags:@ayselluna@littleenglishfangirl@bg3obsessedsideblog@iwillpissyourpants@cyberpr1m3@ukeia-uchiha@snowlotr@road-riot@spacekidnova@madislayyy@lordfishflakes@nicalysm@djarinsway@tinystarfishgalaxy@brainz00@hopeful-n-sad@ohdeerieme@madisban@chrismarium@chonkercatto@fanfic-share@sleepyred1703@miskouly@ravenswritingroom @iamlowkeycrying @deezus-roy @spiritraves @mariposakitten @dinobae-replyacc @whisperingwillowxox @bdudette @misscrissfemmefatale @atropapurpurea @cosywinterevenings @phoenixgurl030 @generalstephkenobi @shadowsmusical @himesuedi @girlygmer-blog @vulgarfuckinvirgo77 @aelieknox @hyperfixationwhore @teardropcup @bitterbeanren Please let me know if I didn't add you to the list or if you'd like to be added!

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 x reader #fluff #bg3 #angst

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venerawrites · 2 months ago

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Helloo! could I humbly request relationship headcanons for Sasuke before and after the war? as in the difference between him then and after? I always thought he'd be a lot more mature and his views on things might change? especially since before he never would've had the time to actually consider things like romantic relationships and such to a deep extent? I'd love to hear your thoughts! I wish you a good day/night!

(fem reader or gn!neutral is up to you! I'm okay with either!)

author's note: hi, lovely! I am so glad to get a request for Sasuke, as he is one of my favourite boys, but I don't really get the chance to write a lot for him. I guess the "after the war" Sasuke can be a bit OOC if you follow Boruto, but as I haven't watched it and I don't really agree with how most of the characters developed... I just kind of wrote the way I envision it. I hope you enjoy! <3

BEFORE the war

It is very hard to imagine Sasuke having a relationship with someone during the time when the only thing that plagued his mind was the idea of revenge.

If he was to get interested in someone, I would imagine it would be a civilian/retired ninja during his travels with Team Taka. (I don't really imagine him falling for a ninja tbh)

I think even here, we have to separate before and after Itachi's death...

Let's roll with the idea that he meets his s/o before killing his brother. During this time he won't be really interested in forming a relationship - for a really long time he won't even understand what is that funny thing inside his chest and why he feel the need to visit his s/o's house every few months.

Sasuke has the tendency to do whatever he wants, whenever he wants, so I imagine that this is how he will behave with his s/o the same way - he will visit his their house at random times, always staying for different periods of time; demand that they heal him (if his s/o is a healer or had any basic medical knowledge); he would buy stuff for the house from the local market or leave some of his own (such as some of his clothes), almost as a way to establish a claim over them/their property.

He would never put a label on the type of "situationship" him and his s/o share, but it is clear to both that whatever is going on is deeper than a friendship.

Still very cold and reserved - would share very minimal information about his past or his goals, preferring to either sit in silence or ask his s/o questions.

Kind of grumpy and rude ALL THE DAMN TIME.

He didn't want to entertain the idea of having feelings for someone, yet he couldn't stay away. The intentions of his visits were always masked with some type of "excuse" - he was in "hiding"; he needed somewhere to "heal"; he wanted a "break" from his team etc. Yet he couldn't help but feel annoyed he was getting distracted from his main goal and he was taking it on his s/o in the form of snappy comments, rolling eyes, constant huffing and just in general bad attitude.

A silent protector - he would check on his s/o quite often, sometimes not even visiting their house, just watching from a distance to make sure they are okay. I imagine during this time he would be highly alert and worried Itachi may try to target his s/o, so he may even act a bit controlling by banning them from leaving their house after dark or letting any strangers inside.

Now Sasuke after killing Itachi and learning the truth about his clan... is a COMPLETELY different story.

We all know his mental health completely collapsed during this time and his mind spiraled downward. This would affect not only his actions, but also his relationship.

For starters, he would clearly establish that he consider them as "his" (if it was not clear before, it is now). His paranoia that everyone is after him, fueled with the fact that he not only wanted a revenge on Konoha, but also the belief that he needs to start rebuilding his clan soon, would push him into constantly trying to persuade his s/o to leave with him.

Now I've said that before, but I don't see Sasuke with the shy, agreeable type of partner... so most likely his s/o would just cuss him out and tell him to leave.

Lot's of arguments, jealousy and gaslighting - Sasuke is literally a walking RED FLAG during that time.

He also is not the type to give up easily, so even if his s/o tries to 'break things off', there is no getting rid of him - his s/o is HIS and he would make sure not only they understand it, but that the WHOLE WORLD does. Nobody loves like an Uchiha after all...

AFTER the war

If you expect head canons based on Sasuke's personality in Boruto... you better stop reading here! I've never seen Boruto, but I've read enough to know that (at least for me) almost all of the OG characters are ruined. So here is my interpretation of what type of partner Sasuke would be after the war...

Firstly, let's start with the fact that he will be by himself for a long time while travelling during his "exhile". Even if he had some type of partner/crush before the war, it is unlikely their relationship would survive after the war.

(which is quite good actually, because as I mentioned above, such relationship would be highly toxic and dysfunctional!)

I think at least a few years need to pass for him to really find himself, find his purpose and accept his past and that of his clan. He has been through a lot of trauma which needs a lot of healing and self-discovery.

Like mentioned above, I don't think he would fall in love with a ninja. In fact, I believe someone who is not really part of that bloody and cruel world would be perfect for him and he would finally have the chance to be himself.

Someone with a lot of patience would suit him well, because while he is more mature, I think he would be very insecure. He never really formed any significant bonds with other people, so he is unsure how to proceed and how to properly treat his s/o.

Definitely friends-to-lovers type of love story.

Sasuke after the war would be more patient and calm, but still fiercely overprotective. I still think he would scold his s/o of they are too careless or too trusting with strangers, he would be nearly as controlling as his younger self.

Tbh I never understood the character development in Boruto, because in my opinion adult Sasuke would totally want a quiet settled life with his partner, away from battles and more bloodshed.

It's already settled in him to be a provider and to be honest I imagine him as a very traditional male figure - the head of the family, the one taking care of his partner and kids, providing protection and security.

He still has a lot to learn and overcome, but the main thing that sets him apart from his younger self is the willingness to listen to his partner and work on himself.

He is still occasionally rude and snappy, and to an outsider way too cold and reserved toward his partner, but to his s/o it would be obvious that he does try to show affection in his own way - waking up before everyone else, so he can prepare breakfast; unconsciously shielding his partner (and kids) with his body in public; small gifts, most of which handmade; subtle touches on the arm or the lower back...

Overall, a piece of work... but definitely one that is worth it!

cc artwork: Christian Benavides

#sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha x reader #sasuke headcanons #sasuke imagine #naruto requests #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons

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solarmorrigan · 1 year ago

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hallo! I saw the angsty prompt list thing, and the “don’t trust me.” One kind of stood out to me. You don’t have to write it, but you’re one of my favorite writers on here so I thought it might be cool :)

Hullo! So I did fill this prompt once already, but I'd had a bunch of ideas for it and I was in the mood for something a little softer, so I did another! Thanks for giving me the opening to write it (and for the compliment, you're so kind?? 😭)

[General warning for mention of Steve's shitty parents and their generally shitty parenting technique]

Angsty-ish Prompt List

“Why am I the one doing this?” Steve grouses, straining slightly as he struggles with the full box on the top shelf. “Instead of, y’know, you?”

“You’re stronger than me,” Eddie replies readily.

“Bullshit, I’ve seen you lugging amps and shit around during your shows,” Steve shoots back, grumbling as he works the box free from the high shelf.

“You got me.” Eddie grins, though Steve’s back is turned to him. “I just like watching you work, sweetheart.”

From the depths of the storage closet, Steve gives an audible snort of laughter, but he also stops arguing. Then, with a little noise of triumph, Steve finally manages to tug the box free, holding it aloft long enough to back out of the closet and then heaving it down onto the floor, where it lands in a clatter of plastic and jingling bells.

“Excellent.” Eddie falls upon the box, rubbing his hands together in anticipation before tugging at the tucked flaps. “There’s one more box, would you mind? It’s on the floor; long rectangle.”

“You said there was one box,” Steve says, eyes narrowed.

“Whoops, miscounted,” Eddie says breezily, smiling up at Steve with as much innocence as he can muster. “You know how bad I am at all that academic shit.”

“Says the guy who plays a math game for fun,” Steve drawls.

For the sake of time, Eddie leaves the bait where it is, instead batting his eyelashes up at Steve. “Pretty please, pretty boy? It’s definitely the last one.”

Steve holds out for exactly five more seconds before retreating into the closet with a roll of his eyes. “If you suddenly remember one more after this, I’m suddenly gonna remember something I have to do back at my house and leave you to do all the decorating on your own,” he calls back, muffled from behind the coats Eddie can hear him shoving aside to find the last box.

Eddie’s at least eighty percent sure he’s bluffing, but it’s no matter – he hadn’t been lying. Most of what he needs is in the box in front of him: strands of garland, wrapped tangles of lights, and the same ugly pinecone wreath with the world’s most annoying string of jingle bells attached that Wayne’s been hanging since Eddie was a kid. Everything else—the ornaments, more lights, and, of course, the tree—is in the hefty, rectangular box Steve is currently hauling out into the entryway.

Normally, Wayne would be there to help, but his and Eddie’s work schedules have fallen out of sync in the hectic holiday rush of extra shifts; if one has the day off, the other is too tired by the time they get home to entertain anything as energy-consuming as getting up on a ladder to hang lights. Eddie and Steve, however (somehow; miraculously), share at least one day off a week, which has seen Steve recruited as Eddie’s backup decorating partner.

“That it?” Steve breathes as releases the box and stands straight, tugging his sweater down from where it’s ridden up (Eddie can’t believe he’s dating someone who unironically wears ugly Christmas sweaters. He can’t believe Steve makes them look good).

“That’s it,” Eddie promises. He plucks two balled-up strings of lights from the box in front of him and stands up, one under each arm. “So here’s what I’m thinking: I’ll get started on the outside, while you,” Eddie puts a boot to the tree box and shoves it towards Steve with a grunt; even across the laminate flooring it doesn’t slide easy, practically cocooned in layers of packing tape from so many years of opening and resealing, “get the tree going.”

Already halfway wrapped up in how he’s going to string the lights (he’d always loved decorating the outside of the trailer, and now he gets to figure out a new configuration for the tiny porch on his and Wayne’s equally tiny new house; it ain’t much, as they say, but it’s home – or, at least, it’s starting to feel like it), Eddie nearly misses the look of confusion that crosses Steve’s face.

“Uh… how do you want it set up?” Steve asks.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow at him. “Stand goes on the floor, pointy end goes up. I have faith in you, Steve.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but with his frown in place he looks like he might actually be irritated. “I mean, you have to tell me how you want it, like, decorated and shit. Where it’s supposed to go, that sort of thing.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve decorated a tree before, man,” Eddie says. “I know I saw one at your house last time I was there.”

“Yeah, but that’s my house. This is yours. You have to tell me how you want it,” Steve says.

Once again for the sake of time, Eddie leaves the obvious opening for a joke where it lies. “Steve, it’s – y’know, lights, garland, ornaments, it’s not rocket science. I trust you to do a good job.”

“No, don’t trust me, just tell me how you want it decorated,” Steve insists. “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to do it wrong.”

“It’s… a Christmas tree, sweetheart,” Eddie says slowly. “You can’t do it wrong.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Steve says with a laugh. “Seriously, like – people are super particular about how their trees are set up, I think. My mom always has been. I remember when I was, like, ten, she and my dad had been away for a while, and we were coming up on Christmas pretty fast, and none of the decorations were up, so I figured I’d at least put the tree up. Surprise them when they got home, right? Except my mom lost her shit when they got home and saw it.”

“Noooot in a good way, I take it,” Eddie hazards.

“Nah, I did it all wrong. The tinsel wasn’t spread out right, and there’s only supposed to be a certain number of ornaments on each branch, and she wanted the angel on top, not the star, so she made me take the whole thing down.” Steve shrugs. “So, seriously, even if you don’t think you have a certain way you want it done, I’ll probably manage to find the exact way you don’t want it, so you should just tell me.”

“Steve, I promise, that tree is, like, older than I am; you can’t make it worse. As long as you don’t set it on fire, I’ll be happy with it,” Eddie says.

“That’s not–” Steve cuts himself off, running one hand through his hair with a strained little laugh. “I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me how you want it done.”

Eddie shakes his head, dropping the bundles of lights back into their box; he hates when this happens – hates when he stumbles over some mundane thing that Steve’s parents have fucked up for him that Eddie only manages to poke like a kid with a sharp stick at a beehive because he didn’t even realize it could be an issue. Who the fuck gives their kid a complex over how the Christmas tree is decorated? Who does that?

(Then again, Eddie’s pretty sure it’s about more than just their expectations for the tree.)

“Okay, I need you to listen to me,” Eddie says, voice firm but hands gentle as he reaches for Steve’s own. “I swear I’m not trying to set you up for failure. I’m really not. The tree isn’t supposed to look perfect. It’s supposed to be kinda crooked and covered in dumb ornaments you can’t even remember the stories behind and only have, like, half a string of popcorn around it because you ate most of it when your uncle wasn’t looking and didn’t leave enough for the tree.”

Steve stares at him, brows furrowed, like he’s trying to piece what Eddie’s telling him into what he already knows about the world, like he needs both things to be true, even though they don’t fit together.

“Actually…” Eddie says slowly, deciding that it may be best to change tack, “come to think of it, there’s one thing about decorating the tree that I should’ve told you. Most important thing, really. Can’t believe I forgot.”

“What?” Steve asks, halfway between wary and eager for the instruction.

“You’re supposed to do it together. That’s what makes it good.” Eddie lets go of one of Steve’s hands to smack the heel of his own to the side of his forehead. “Duh. Silly me.”

Steve shakes his head, letting it hang forward with a little huff of a laugh as some of the tension leeches from his shoulders. “You’re such a dork, do you know that?”

“Mhm,” Eddie hums, grabbing Steve by the front of that stupid, ugly sweater (it has reindeer on it, how does it not look awful on him?) and pulling him up for a quick kiss. “So how about you help me do the outside lights, and then we’ll come back inside and do the tree together?”

One last flicker of uncertainty crosses Steve’s face. “What about Wayne?”

A flutter of fondness rolls through Eddie’s chest, the same as it always does when Steve doesn’t just consider Eddie, but the things and people important to him. “His favorite part is stringing the popcorn. We can do that when he gets home.”

“Oh.” Steve nods, as though he is considering this very seriously, then smirks at Eddie. “Should we make some to eat before he gets back, so you leave enough for the tree?”

Eddie smacks him on the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Alright, Harrington, just for that, you’re the one untangling the lights.”

“What, like it’s a punishment?” Steve asks. “I’m great at untangling Christmas lights.”

“Oh, baby,” Eddie presses a hand to his heart and pretends to swoon over the box of decorations, “when you say things like that, it makes me want to keep you forever.”

And Steve’s answering grin at that is far brighter than anything they’re going to decorate with today, Eddie is certain.

#finntheehumaneater #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #I also wanted to write something a little holiday-related!#so I'll be honest this is a little schmoopy but like. that happens sometimes yanno?#solar wrote #answers from solar

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wildestdreamsblog · 1 year ago

Text

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian II

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: heheheheheee

Masterlist, Part II of __

Kim Seokjin blinked owlishly as you run past him in a hurry with your white coat hanging on your arm and the sound of your heels hitting the floor before completely skidding to a stop. It was already late in the evening and you still had energy to run in the hospital lobby. Seokjin was starting to wonder what you were fed as a child to be this vibrant. Additionally, though, he was now starting to think what he fed Jungkook as a child for him to be as energetic as you.

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I run again?” you asked with a teasing smile on your face, your breaths huffing. You saw the most handsome man walked confidently across the lobby, his hand clutching his briefcase and you knew he was done for the day. That was the moment you ran from the second floor to the ground floor just to annoy your crush. You were too busy today with your patients and papers that you had no time to go to his office and bat your eyelashes at him.

It was entertaining to watch his cheeks and ears reddened whenever he saw you doing that, or whenever you verbally appreciated his beauty. You thought he was embarrassed for you and you found it immensely charming. In fact, flirting with him was the highlight of your day and you always made sure to see him on a daily basis which you noted was difficult.

Sometimes, Kim Seokjin was nowhere to be found for days. You wondered where he went whenever he disappeared. On days after he was gone, he seemed to be more tolerant of your teasing quips. On days after he returned, you could have sworn he looked at you a little bit fondly for a second and then it was gone.

“This is not the first time I saw you, Doctor Y/N,” he replied calmly, his hand in his pocket as he rested his eyes on yours.

“Yes, but I’m running out of pickup lines to use. I still need conduct further research,” you tilted your head to the side as you looked up at the tall man. “When are you even going to ask me out, Doctor Kim?”

“W-what?”

“I mean, you better hurry up or else someone might snatch me up. My mother did say that I’m the most beautiful girl in the world and I am known for being a good girl and believing every word my mother said.”

His brows furrowed at the thought of someone snatching you away from his grasp. But, you weren’t his, right? He had no hold over you, right? So why did that leave a sour taste on his mouth? Why then did he fist his hands so tight he almost felt pain knowing that he had long couldn’t?

You had no idea of the darkness that was clouding his mind and instead, you smiled sweetly at him before waving him goodbye, satisfied that you once again managed to render the smartest man in this hospital speechless and blushing profusely. That was an achievement, you giggled.

But then you turned to look at him again, your hand touching your lips and then dramatically pointing it to him. That was all it took to get him out of the darkness that was caging him once again. The mafia prince didn’t know what to make of the power you had over his darkness, a darkness that he spent a good decade reigning in.

You tapped your knuckles against his office door twice before opening the door. Kim Seokjin was the image of focus as he stared intensely at his laptop, his brows slightly furrowed with his glasses resting on his aristocrat nose. He looked up when he heard the sound of several tupperwares hitting his table.

“Eomeoni said that she courted appa by cooking and bringing him meals everyday in his office,” you started conversationally as you opened the lids. Seokjin was helpless as soon as the aromatic smell reached him that his own stomach decided to betray him and communicate how empty it was.

He coughed to cover his embarrassment, “Your mother courted your father?”

“Yes. Her method was effective, though,” you grinned at him as you placed the chopsticks in front of him. You sat in front of him before starting to eat. “She also did say to follow my dreams, so here I am.”

You met his eyes before winking at him. Seokjin’s face radiated with a warm, pinkish blush which happened to be a true testament to his extremely flustered state that only you could bring out of him. And you staring at him like that was not helping him at all.

His hands shook as his mind went to the default setting: to push you away.

“I have patients coming in…”

You blinked owlishly at him before looking down at your wristwatch. “It’s 5:47 am. Check-ups starts at 7:00 am. We have time.”

“I-I don’t eat.”

The silence was loud as you processed what he just said, and you knew what an ‘I don’t want to spend time with you’ looked like. You nodded your head before standing up. “Okay.”

You stopped yourself from showing your disappointment. You brought your chopsticks down before wordlessly closing the lids on the meals your prepared at an ungodly hour. You returned them all in the paper bag before bowing at him and leaving. He watched it all as you refused to meet his eyes for the first time since you met him.

He groaned when you closed the door, and he was once again left with the silence he was used to. He rested his head on his hands in frustration. What was wrong with him, he thought. He didn’t eat? What was he, a fucking vampire? Yes, he had a clear and fair skin, and yes, he looked like he was not aging. And of course, his beauty was out of this world. But he was just beautiful! What could he do? Should he blame his mother that used to be a top model for his good genes?

Or should he blame his already system that was already beyond repair even before you came into his life?

Kim Seokjin eyes kept on shifting to the door and then back to his screen for a moment. However, it was as though he was powerless from looking back to the door again. The presentation that they deemed to be important was merely a white noise to him, even as the doctors kept on looking at him for approval. They found none as his face remained impassive.

He looked down on his phone, and even your usual good morning was not there and he loathed it. Granted that he never replied, but he still kept the messages. It brought him something akin to warmth in his chest when he received your messages on his phone. Reading your adorable messages was the highlight of his morning. But now, his phone was unusually quiet and you were nowhere to be found. It displaced him. It vexed him. And it confused him. Seokjin glared at the emptiness of your chair with such disgust and irritation that the presenter gulped from the darkness that crossed his face. They all wanted to please him, not only was he in the highest position but he was also the major stockholder of the hospital.

Suffice to say, Kim Seokjin was the most powerful man in the hospital. Unbeknownst to them though, his power spread beyond the corners of the hospital and into the darkness of the world.

“Director Kim?” the presenter he didn’t care to remember the name called for his attention. Leisurely, he brought his eyes from his phone to the sweating man. He didn’t even care to hide the fact that he was more focused on the phone than the presentation. He read all about it and he was not pleased one bit.

“I believe you graduated at the top of your class, Doctor Choi, am I correct?” he regarded him with an unimpressed look. He waved his hand before the man could even respond. He didn’t need his affirmation. “Did your school have an extremely low population? Did they have-“ he tilted his head to come up with a better word than what he was thinking. “-subpar qualifications? Was bribery involved?”

He met each and everyone’s eyes before standing up slowly in heavy disappointment. “Fix this. Or I’ll personally call all the organizations that awarded this hospital as the best and tell them that they made a terribly, colossal blunder and have them take all the certifications away.”

—-

“Hyuuuuung, why are you even doing here?” Jungkook, their youngest brother, whined as he watched his oldest hyung laid out on his office sofa. He had his phone up, glaring at it as though it personally did him wrong.

“Hanging out with you,” he murmured before throwing his phone away. He pulled his arm on his face and started groaning.

Jungkook wanted to smash his head against his table littered with thousands of documents he needed to go into- which he couldn’t do because his hyung just wouldn’t leave him in peace!

“You’re distracting me!”

“Tough luck. I need to be around someone who’s as lonely as I am.”

“Then go to the others! Why me?! Why not Namjoon hyung?!”

“He’s not lonely. He has his secretary,” Jin softly explained before putting down his arm and turning to look at Jungkook. “Besides, no one is as lonelier as you. Your wife is out there running from you.”

“No, she’s not! She’s just lost! What about Taehyung? Go to him!” he huffed as he was reminded yet again that his wife left him. His brows were now in a pinched as he pouted at his hyung.

Jin waved his suggestion away before closing his eyes. “Tae Tae does not feel any emotion, Kookie. He doesn’t even know he’s lonely because he is a high-functioning pain in the ass psychopath that needs to be put down as soon as pos-“

His slander on Taehyung was cut short as the sound of his phone alerting him of a message from the floor chimed. Jungkook watched his hyung scrambled on the floor to where he threw his phone both in confusion and disgust. He never saw his hyung behaved this way when he was the one who always insisted in proprietary and manners because they as he said, they might be cold-blooded criminals but they were not barbarians.

You were back, he read as the personnel from the Human Resources department he bribed messaged him. Apparently, you were on a week-long leave that required him suffering because you weren’t in his vicinity. Yet again, he had no time to dissect his feelings…

He just needed to see you.

It felt like everything was displaced when you were gone, yet at the same time it was how he was living before you came into his life and painted his world with colors he didn’t know existed. That was the thing, you came and changed his world. He didn’t know how to go back to his colorless world now.

“Okay, bye.”

Jungkook watched dumbfoundedly as his hyung ran out of his office.

Part III

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