#but someone else commented 'ah yes as it should be'

[ode2rin]

1 | ANYONE BUT YOU .ೃ

summary. as lines get blurred, hearts get flustered, and a scheme ensues, your brother's best friend suddenly seems way more interesting than he used to be.

content/warnings. 5k+ wc (part 1/3) reader has little to no college friends | reader hates kaiser's guts | PROTECTIVE kaiser lol | | pet names (dollface) & a lot of profanity (it's kaiser) | minimal proofread

💭 masterlist | next part

“I’m sorry, I don���t think I can go with you anymore.”

Your ears were ringing.

After the words hung over the line, a heavy silence descended, punctuated only by the dull thud of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. The phone line seemed to distort, and the world beyond reduced to a distant murmur as a disorienting ringing filled your ears. Yet, despite the shock rippling through, you managed to maintain a facade.

“Ah, I see. It’s no problem. See you around!” Your chirped voice made you cringe internally, but it was a better front than sounding like a defeated kid whose mom said no over a piece of candy at a grocery store.

Before he could say anything else, you clicked the end button faster than he could spew some tacky excuse. Throwing your phone to the side, you settled onto your bed, lying on your back, staring at the uninteresting ceiling of your room.

Sure, it was no problem at all— the music festival was just six hours away, and your date had just canceled on you over the phone. It’s no big deal facing your college blockmates without a companion as initially planned, and it’s totally not a problem that you will most likely be a third– hell, a seventh wheel, actually, and have them talk behind your back – speculating about why you're going alone or if you were just making it up that you had someone to bring.

Yes, it’s not a fucking problem at all.

You don’t even like the artist lineup, anyway (maybe you’re mildly interested with one band that’s attending).  You wouldn’t bother if you weren’t just a sophomore still trying to find a group of friends you can call your own. It's embarrassing enough that freshmen even had it better than you. It’s not a race, for sure, but in college– the truth lies blatant that support systems help. A lesson you learned the hardest way.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” Three soft knocks on your door and a muffled voice, surely coming from your older brother, interrupted your pity party.

“Yes. Come in,” you confirmed. The door creaked open, revealing a mop of magenta hair leaning over your door frame.

“There’s food downstairs. We ordered your favorite.”

“We?”

“Kaiser is downstairs.”

Of course, he is. 

Your brother’s best friend must have really taken it to heart when your mom told him he can treat your family as his own. Too deep into his heart, if you could comment. You see him around the house more than you see your parents, and if that wasn’t tiresome enough, he’s literally a damn superstar in your university. Every corner, every room, in halls and library, everyone can’t seem to be over his name like a broken record.

You wouldn’t be this annoyed, hostile even, if said man was just as nice as your brother. But instead, he was far by the most obnoxious, foul-mouthed, arrogant prick you’ve ever known. Alexis should have never kicked some ball with that conceited oaf a decade ago. Life would have been so much better. But no— reality is, the bane of your existence in the form of blonde hair and sharp blue eyes, is in your house’s kitchen, probably gulping down your favorite drinks in the fridge. 

If you can’t seem to have friends, your older brother seems to be goddamn bad at picking his.

“Hey, dollface. Missed me?” Speak of the damn devil and he shall appear.

The first thing you’re met with after coming down is a sight of Michael Kaiser, sitting high and comfortably on one of the counter’s bar stools. Your gaze trails down to his hand where you see a peek of his crown tattoo— and would you look at that? He’s holding a can of your Coke Zero.

“Oh, so that’s why my life was going sideways again,” you feigned a sigh in disappointment, making sure it was loud enough for him to hear, “because you’re back.”

In your unwanted years of knowing this guy, you’ve soon realized that none of your words, no matter how sharp or snarky they get, would ever faze him. Evidence would be how he just openly chuckled at your remark. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I missed you and your smart mouth, too. Don’t worry.”

“Trust me, worry is not in the list of emotions I would ever feel for you.”

“Well, does attraction make it to the list?”

Years ago, perhaps it would have. Not that he needs to know—no chance. Your silly childhood crush on him was your deepest, darkest mistake. You might be overdramatic, but this was Michael Kaiser, and god, you would rather get caught having feelings for anyone but him.

Rolling your eyes at him, you sneer, “You wish.”

“Oh, trust me, I do wish,” he mocks your tone.

“Fuck off.” 

“That won’t get rid of me, I’m afraid,” he shrugs before winking at you. You shook your head in annoyance.

You took the seat across from him and settled. You were about to lean to reach the box of pizza at the other end of the countertop, when Kaiser reached for it first and placed it in front of you.

You turned to look at him, half expecting a smirk or yet another wink from the blonde, but instead, he was preoccupied browsing on his phone as if his body moved on its own to attend to you.

You shrugged off the weird occurrence and turned all attention to the pizza and its heavenly scent sipping through the gaps of its box, just in time for Alexis to take the seat next to his best friend. You drowned the noise of their conversation as they started talking about last away games.

Your brother and Kaiser had been the most valuable players of your university’s soccer team for as long as you’ve remembered. They were two years older, so by the time you entered university, they were already making big names in the field. Rumors had it that there were already offers lining up at their feet.

If you come to think of it, it wouldn’t be this hard making friends if you would just be vocal about being Alexis Ness’ younger sibling, but the limelight and pretentious popularity it came with was something you wouldn’t wish upon yourself. You wanted real and genuine friends, not people who wanted to be around you because it was a step closer to your brother and his best friend.

Like earlier, Alexis’ voice came reaching your eardrums, snapping you out of your thoughts. After hearing what he had to ask, though, you wished you had a way to physically block out his words.

“Are you not going to get ready for the festival?” your brother asked, meanwhile, his dear friend seemed to take great interest in what you’re about to say as both of them peered over you.

“Not going anymore,” you said, as nonchalant as you could to play pretend.

“Why? You’ve been looking forward to it the whole week.”

Heat crept into your ears and cheeks as embarrassment filled you. Sure, you might not be prancing around being all excited about it, but if your brother was able to notice it, your enthusiasm must have been evident then. God, you felt like an utter fool now.

“It got canceled,” you looked away from them.

Alexis looked at you with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? It’s not–”

“My date canceled on me. I’m not going anymore to save face and not make a fool out of myself. There, happy?” you snapped.

Before you could even feel the guilt from bursting out unprovoked to your brother, you swiftly got up from the stool heading back to your room, leaving the two of them in the kitchen looking concerned contrarily. One with worried eyes glancing at your room hesitantly, and the other one with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes.

It seemed everyone was testing your patience today, as for the second time, your ears rang—not from a last-minute cancellation this time, but from the persistent sound of your ringing phone.

Your heavy eyes fluttered open, weighed down by the sleep from your ignoring-the-world nap after the exchange with your supposed date and your brother. Disoriented and groggy, you reached out, fingers fumbling to check the caller deserving of your unrelenting fury.

Kaiser, the screen read, and suddenly, the urge to throw your phone at the nearest wall almost overwhelmed your senses.

But you answered the call anyway, because logic says that he was still your brother’s closest, and sometimes, that warranted a call that might be about him.

“I swear to god this better be important–”

“Get ready,” he interrupted.

“What?”

“Look out your window.”

Groaning, you rose to your feet, moving your drapes aside to see what awaited outside.

Outside your house’s gates, a midnight blue sports car, all too familiar, was parked across the driveway. Its owner leaned lazily over its door, one hand in his pocket while the other held his phone pressed to his ear, looking right back at you with that shit-eating grin.

“What the hell are you on?” you muttered into the phone.

You instantly closed the drapes after meeting eyes with him.

It’s infuriating—He’s infuriating. But damn, does he look good when he smiles like that. And it’s not helping your case that he was clad in loose-fitting denim pants and a black shirt, sufficiently showcasing both his tattoo and his lean yet toned build.

It’s sorcery how he makes simple and ordinary clothing look like it was screaming high-end and luxury. Only he can do that, you admit.

“As I said, get ready,” he repeated over the phone, “We only have less than two hours before your music festival or something starts.”

He’s taking me to it? “Why?”

Only one word in response, yet the two of you understood what you’re pertaining to. Silence filled the line for a moment before you heard a subtle click of his tongue.

“Because you look ugly when you sulk,” and he hung up.

You should be irritated at him hanging up abruptly and calling you ugly, but for some reason you don’t know, it puts a smile on your face. 

The first one today.

Kaiser wishes he had a bigger car— which one would deem ridiculous, given that his car could easily match the price of two or even three minivans.

But if it meant having you sit not so close that your scent infiltrates his senses beyond his sound judgment, he’d gladly trade his lambo for a minivan any day.

You were intoxicating— not akin to the grip of liquor, because it would be inadequate in comparison. But rather intoxicating in the same way as the irresistible magnetism that beckons a madman to its vices.

And he must be really mad because you weren’t even sitting shoulder-to-shoulder close to him. You’re sitting comfortably at the passenger seat, a good distance in between, and yet he acts like a raging teenager who got locked up with his crush in the utility room. It is absolutely embarrassing, even for someone like him.

“Did Alexis ask you to do this?” you suddenly inquired, your gaze fixed on your side of the car.

Thank heavens you broke the silence first, because who knows what ungodly phrases he would come up with in an attempt of small talk with you?

“No. Though I bet he would have taken you himself,” he snorted, of course your brother would, “If our coach weren’t so pissed at him these days.”

Ah, so that explained why you hadn't seen Alexis around the house before hopping into Kaiser's car.

Momentarily, you turned to him. It was so swift that he might have missed it if he wasn’t so hyper aware of your every move in this damn confined space. “Is he in trouble?” you inquired to the blonde, your voice concerned and hesitant.

“Nothing you have to worry about, doll.”

“Stop with the nicknames,” you hissed, attempting to intimidate. 

Unfazed, he countered with a cheeky “Make me,” under his breath. His smirk practically audible, even without you glancing his way.

Silence overtook between the two of you once more. You fixated on the road ahead, noting the nearing destination as the glow of the festival stage lights peeked into view.

It’s your chance— your chance to release the words that have lingered at the edge of your tongue since he urged you to get ready almost an hour ago. You stole a glance at the man driving beside you. His eyes focused on the road, his left hand steady on the steering wheel while his timepiece-adorned hand rested comfortably on the gearshift. In another frame of mind, you might have found yourself lost in the rhythm of his long, slender fingers tapping against it. You snapped out of it before he could point it out.

You stole one last glance before turning away to whisper, “Thank you… Kaiser.”

Instead of saying welcome like a polite person would, your companion would of course, choose to say something as, “You owe me something now.”

Of course, you thought. Mentally rolling your eyes, you ask, resigning to his antics, “What do you want?” 

“Call me by my name.”

“Did you not hear? I said, thank you Kai–”

“The one you used to call me.”

Mikka.

It was a silly nickname you gave him– back when Alexis first brought him home for snacks nearly ten years ago. He and Alexis were eleven, and you were barely nine.

You remembered the blonde kid, all sweaty in his mud-stained clothes, clutching a worn-out ball by his hip, his gaze fixed on you with curiosity. “This is Kaiser,” your brother introduced, but the blonde stranger approached you, extending his hand.

“I’m Michael.”

“That’s… long.”

“What?”

“Your name– it’s long,” you echoed, looking up at him, ���can I call you ‘Mikka’?”

“What?” Kaiser’s deep voice sliced through your reminiscence. “You had no problem calling me that before,” he pointed out.

“That’s before you beat up the boy you knew I like,” you scoffed at him, a familiar pettiness clouding your mind.

He chuckled at your retort, seemingly lost in his own memories. “Beat him up on the soccer field, you mean,” he corrected, though he wouldn’t particularly mind if it were an actual fight.

“Same thing.”

“Oh, come on! It was highschool!”

“Your point?” you countered.

“He was a snotface, anyway.” he rationalized.

“He was nice to me!”

“I suggest you rather get a dog instead— if nice is all you need. I heard dogs are fun to be around,” he sneered, “What do you think of pomeranians?”

You brushed off his question, preferring the depths of silence over the hypothetical responsibility of tending to a pup that bore more than a passing resemblance to him, both in appearance and, perhaps, in demeanor.

“I knew agreeing to come here with you was a mistake,” you sighed, exasperation lacing your words.

Surprisingly, Kaiser offered no retort. Taking his silence as a cue for your own, you settled into quietness, hoping for a peaceful remainder of the drive. Minutes drifted by until Kaiser broke the stillness with a whisper loud enough for you to catch.

“He was a slimy jerk,” he began, pausing as if hinting his careful choice of words, “and he was nice to you because he was trying to get into your pants.”

“How did you know?” you asked, meek and shy, fumbling with your fingers in your lap.  Seeking love advice and opinions from none other than the mighty Kaiser seemed absurd, but maybe, wisdom might sometimes fare well with age.

“Trust me when I say I know how boys can be,” he scoffed, a displeased furrow settling in his brows. “He wasn't the gentleman you thought he was.”

“And you? Are you a gentleman?”

Before you could stop your thoughts from escaping your rebellious mouth, the words spilled out like water through a breached dam. The lack of response from him compelled you to chew on your lip and fix your gaze on the road, refusing to spare even a glance his way, despite feeling his stare burning into the side of your face.

Meanwhile, Kaiser was aware he might be staring too long at your side for someone controlling a vehicle, but he couldn't help it. Not when you caught him off guard with a simple question, and especially not when you were trying so hard to avoid looking at him, your discomfort palpable in the air. You looked so cute—it made his mouth twitch.

Staring ahead at the road, he contemplated your question, needing no more than a minute to reach his conclusion.

When a man looks at his best friend's younger sibling in a way he shouldn’t, he’s not deserving of the title “gentleman.”

He was far from it, he concluded. With one last glance thrown your way before bringing the car to a full stop, he muttered in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“Especially not one, doll.”

“Y/N! Over here!” a familiar voice cut through the cacophony, prompting you to scan the crowd until you finally spotted them.

Relief flooded over you at the sight of a familiar face amidst the crowd. Checking your phone had proven to be a wise decision; otherwise, you might have spent the night searching aimlessly through the vast expanse of the venue.

The venue stretched out before you was a kaleidoscope of sights and sounds that danced upon the senses. Laughter and chatter mingled with applause and the occasional roar of approval as performers graced the stage. 

Everywhere you looked there was movement and so much life. Yet amidst the bustling crowd and pulsating music, one figure occupied your thoughts more than anything else.

Kaiser's towering 6-foot frame loomed behind you, his broad shoulders carving a path of confidence through the crowd. He stood behind you like an immovable rock amidst a rushing river. And if your senses weren't deceiving you, you swore you felt the occasional brush of his hand against the small of your back, gently guiding you forward.

He was so close behind you that his breath on your nape soaked into your skin like ointment— warm to the touch, yet icy on your spine.

“Where's your date?” one of your blockmates inquired after the initial pleasantries were exchanged.

The question lingered, and suddenly, all eyes were on you. Mentally counting heads, you realized you were really on track to be the seventh wheel if you attended without a companion. Speaking of companions— you turned behind you with the intention of introducing Kaiser (not that they didn’t know him already), but your intention faltered when you noticed the scowl on his face.

“I’m the date, if you couldn’t tell,” he interjected. 

From his vantage point, he observed the widening of your eyes at his declaration. Yet, when he didn’t hear any immediate retaliation from you, he flashed you— and everyone else watching— a lopsided smirk. He sensed your blockmates’ curiosity lingering, some perhaps wondering if he was truly dating you. But none of them dared to probe further—maybe because he wasn't exactly the approachable type.

After a few murmurs of ‘oh’ and ‘really’ from your blockmates, they returned their attention to the stage, where the next performer was beginning their pre-performance monologue.

You, on the other hand, look like you were out for his blood from how you’re glaring at him. “Are you out of your mind?” you hissed under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

Yes. Perhaps he was. Irrationality had seized him upon hearing the question. After all, he was there with you, visible for all to see. Did they not see him? Did he look like a fucking chair to those people? Common sense must be a luxury these days, given its absence in this situation.

Yet, a small voice of reason within him attempted to intervene, suggesting that the question might have stemmed from genuine curiosity.

As his best friend's younger sibling, seeing the two of you together wasn't an unusual occurrence for those who attend the same university. They likely concluded that your presence with him at the music festival was simply a matter of normal friendship (which it was, but they don’t have to know that, nor does he desire for these extras to reduce it to just that).

“I’m helping you save face like you said earlier,” he tells you, still wearing that annoying smirk.

“How does telling them you’re my date help me save face?” If anything, you'd be hiding on campus after his stunt. You could only hope words won’t travel fast.

“Would you rather I tell them I'm chaperoning you because some jerk canceled on you?”

Your words stalled at the base of your throat, unable to counter his remark. That shut you up, much to your chagrin. He was right.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” he quipped, grinning at your silence. “Come closer, there’s a lot of people.”

You huffed in irritation and decided to ignore him behind you, determined to make the most of your experience here. You’d let this slide for now. After all, he was here because of you.

But it wasn’t too long before you realized that ignoring him would be as futile as trying to pluck roses without being pricked by the thorns. You knew very well that this man thrives in getting under people’s skin.

“You should be flattered.”

Genuinely appalled, you ask, “I’m sorry?”

“Accepted.”

If it wasn’t night time and the blaring lights were replaced by the sun, he could have seen the twitch that your eye did at his retort.

At this point, murder is a tempting option. Sure, he’s taller and much bigger in physique terms, but you have the rage for it. Just one more insufferable antic—one more word— from this man and the whole university will be mourning their star player’s demise first thing tomorrow morning. 

You took a deep breath to calm your murderous nerves, “Is that so? What part of telling people— oh wait, our schoolmates who are probably whispering behind our backs— that you’re my date, is flattering to you?”

The asshole had the audacity to shrug, “Calling me yours was.”

“Well then, you should be flattered. Not me.”

“You don’t know how flattered I am to be yours,” he mused.

If you didn’t know any better, his attempt at flirting might have sent warmth to your cheeks. But this was Kaiser— no one can tell when he’s being serious or just being his usual menace self talking shit like he’s employed to do so. Good thing you had better plans than spend it on his guessing games.

Just when you’re about to berate him once more, words halted on your throat because of a sight you least expected to see.

Han— the guy you’ve been talking to for almost a month now. The same guy who was your supposed date, to be more specific.

“What? Cat got your tongue, doll?”

If cats come in the form of a familiar man who’s a few good meters away, clearly having the time of his life dancing with someone, and clearly showing no signs of unavailability to go to a music festival he asked you to, then yes, it got your tongue.

You stayed silent far too long for Kaiser’s patience. Your lack of snarky clapbacks were starting to unsettle him more than he would allow. Shifting closer to you, he followed your line of sight to see what got you stunned in silence.

Recognizing what, or rather who, got your attention, he turns to you, his voice coming out too indignant, “Do you know that guy?”

“Do you?” you counter, picking up on his tone being all too casual as if they’re acquainted. 

“He’s last week’s opposing team’s goalkeeper,” or was it ‘striker’? He couldn’t recall, so he’s more or less incompetent to him. One thing he remembers, however, “and he hates me.”

You threw him a glance, “Not surprised.”

“And do I give a fuck,” he shook his head, “Why do you keep looking at him?” Don’t fucking tell me.

Your answer wasn’t any better to what he was starting to imagine, “He was… supposed to be my date to this music festival,” you mumbled, looking down at your feet.

You didn’t want to see the look on Kaiser’s face, fearing you might see pity, and so you nailed your gaze to the ground. Totally oblivious of the man peering over you rather softly.

“Why can’t he then?” he asks, voice an octave lower.

“He said they had late notice training, so he can’t come.” 

“Well, that better be his fucking ghost yapping with a brunette then,” he scoffs, looking straight to the lying man who canceled on you.

Sick of his face and sloppy dance moves, Kaiser turned his gaze back at you, only to be filled with rage because of it.

You look sad— and it made his blood boil. Not towards you, but for you.

“Y’know what? Let’s go there,” he urged, head pointing at where Han was.

Is he fucking crazy? You immediately shook your head at his scandalous suggestion. You might be feeling a little betrayed and angry, but rationality still had its hold on you— and it’s saying to not let Kaiser go with his idea. 

Instead, you tug on his forearm, eyes still on the floor before looking up at him, “Can we leave, please?” 

Kaiser was taken aback by your sudden meekness. He wasn’t used to this— to you, being all deflated and zoned out. He was used to your deadpan expressions and your eyes that seem to roll every time he utters a single word. He was used to you being, dare he say, feisty. 

And he would rather have you stay like that all day long, even when he’s the receiving end of it.

But this? You, saying please to him, of all people? He doesn’t like it. 

If this is how he gets to make you say please, then he doesn’t want it. Fuck that, and fuck that guy. How dare he.

Kaiser didn’t say anything back at your request, but you felt big calloused hands grasp on your hand still resting on his forearm. The next thing you knew, you were walking with him, shoulder-to-shoulder while his other hand was on yours guiding you to walk out of the scene.

“If I see one—just one drop of tear, I swear I am turning this damn car around.” 

Your thoughts abruptly halted at the sound of Kaiser’s threat—his ultimatum, rather. It sounded more like a promise than a threat, and you knew this man well enough to understand that he never ate his words.

You shot him a glance and snickered. There was no way in high hell you’d ever cry in the same space where he was. It was the last thing you’d ever do, even if it meant convincing yourself that what you saw earlier was just a mere look-alike of Han.

“It's nothing. We aren’t even a thing,” you dismissed, your voice flat.

“But you thought you could be,” he countered, and damn if he wasn't right. “How do you even know him?”

“We're kind of talking, well, sort of—”

“Kind of? Sort of?” he scoffed.

“God—it's like a talking stage or something casual, Kaiser! There, got it?”

“That's not exclusive,” he remarked, adding insult to injury.

Irritation bubbled in your throat as his interrogation continued. But even before you could unleash your venom, you caught yourself. He was right. And while this man had never brought you good, it wasn't fair to make him the target of your bad.

“Yeah, it's not,” you admitted, a dry, humorless laugh escaping you. You recalled the brunette he danced with earlier. “I wasn't exclusive material for his reputation, I guess.”

What reputation? “That’s bullshit.” He gritted his teeth, his hand itching towards the steering wheel, clearly tempted to turn back to the festival.

“You said it yourself, he’s an athlete,” you pointed out, “You people never like to go exclusive with someone.”

“You people? Oh, please. Do not insult me by comparing me to the likes of him.”

The sass in his voice drew a chuckle from you. It was amusing how he said it with genuine horror, as if the mere idea of being associated with Han was an insult. “Why? Are you telling me you can commit to someone exclusively?”

“Someone like who? You?” He met your gaze briefly, “Absolutely.”

What the hell. “Stop messing around,” you snorted, effectively ending the conversation.

He was playing a dangerous game, saying that to you. Did he even realize what it did? Did he hear your stupid heart hammering in your chest? It was too loud, too obvious, a frantic drum solo against your ribs. 

And the realization settled— he made your heart flutter. 

His words, so simple, so casually tossed out, had landed like a bomb, sending shrapnel through your carefully constructed walls.

Michael Kaiser, of all people, made your heart flutter.

Suddenly, the air felt thin, the car an echo chamber amplifying the frantic rhythm of your traitorous heart. You knew you should scoff, dismiss it as another one of his infuriating jabs, but the truth was like a hot coal lodged in your throat.

“I’m not though,” he countered, eyes steady on the familiar road ahead. He sounded serious– too serious. 

As you were about to retort back, the car lurched to a stop, announcing your arrival. You glanced out the window, the familiar sight of your house doing little to ease the tension that had coiled tight in your stomach.

“We’re here,” Kaiser announced, his voice a low rumble.

Hurried and flustered by the unexpected shift in the conversation, your clammy hands fumbled with the buckle, the metal cold and unyielding against your sweaty palms. You tugged, then tugged again, frustration building with each failed attempt.

“Easy, doll.” 

Before you could protest, a large hand swooped in, effortlessly unlatching the buckle with a practiced flick. The sudden proximity sent a jolt through you, making your breath hitch. You met his gaze, his eyes a blazing blue as he held your stare for a beat too long before turning away.

Taking a deep breath, you composed yourself. You reached for the door handle, pushing it open and stepping out onto the familiar pavement. Before slamming the door shut, you paused, turning back to Kaiser with a newfound resolve.

Crouching down to meet his gaze, you surprised yourself with the words that tumbled out. “Be careful on your way home and,” you paused, “Thank you... Mikka.”

The nickname slipped out before you could stop it, leaving a blush blooming across your cheeks.

Before Kaiser could react, you slammed the door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet street. 

Mikka. He repeats your words in his mind.

He watched you disappear into your house, a slow grin spreading across his face. Only when you were safely inside did he start the car, the image of your flustered face lingering in his mind.

Damn it, doll.

Meanwhile, you hurried to your room, clutching your chest where your heart still hammered a frantic rhythm.

Why did I call him that? you asked yourself.

The use of his nickname, a name you rarely uttered now, was a stark reminder that the two of you weren’t as close as you were younger.

It’s not a big deal, you tried to reason with yourself. He literally said you owed it to him, and calling it quits would be in the form of a stupid nickname. It doesn’t mean anything. Right— you were just returning a favor.

Your obvious self-deception was interrupted by the incessant buzzing of your phone, tossed carelessly on the bed. Picking up your phone, you opened one of the notifications, your breath catching in your throat.

It was a post on your university's gossip page, and there, plastered on the screen, was a picture of you and Kaiser. 

The image froze a moment in time, capturing him standing protectively behind you, his arms caging you against a barricade. Panic clawed at your throat. This picture, out in the open, could be misconstrued in so many ways. 

What were people going to think? Who took this photo, anyway?

Your eyes darted down the comment section, scrolling through a sea of unimaginable speculations, desperately searching for clues about the culprit.

Just then, a knock on the door startled you.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you?”

It was your brother— and his voice suggested he needed answers too.

Shit.

note. first mini series lmao xD will add cw as i go!

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine King catching feelings for you

Kaido: ah, there he is, King this is the new navigator for the main ship

King: [eyes you in disinterest] I see

You: hello, I look forward to working with you.

King: I'm sure you do.

You: [ignores his rude comment]

Kaido: would you show them around the ship for me?

King: I suppose

You: [opens the door and gestures to it] Lead the way handsome.

King: [looks at you in surprise]

During a dinner

King: [sees you're not touching your sashimi plate]

You: [notices him looking] Do you like sashimi?

King: ... Yes

You: I'm a tad full at the moment to eat mine, could I get your help with it?

King: [wastes no time taking the platter from you] I take it you don't like sashimi?

You: it's not that, I'm just not in the mood for it.

King: [can't tell if you're lying] Good, because I don't know if I can work with someone who doesn't like sashimi.

You: but it would mean more for you.

King: [pauses because he didn't think of it that way before] ... So you're going to give me all your sashimi from now on?

You: [smiles at him] Maybe, if you've been a good boy.

King: [feels unfamiliar emotions stir within him]

After that dinner

You: [goes to King's rooms] King?... King, Kaido wanted me to deliver this course log to you to review for tomorrow... Huh, I'll just leave it on his desk with a note.

King: [exits the shower with just a towel and sees you kneeling on his desk chair and scribbling something down]

You: [turns around to see him trying to duck into another room] King? Is that you?

King: [freezes, knowing he's been seen]

You: wow, I've never seen you without your mask, [realizes this is a breach of his privacy, so you should your eyes] Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to look, I promise I won't say anything to anyone.

King: [grabs his sword and stands over you]

You: [looks up when you hear the blade slide out of the sheath]

King: [feels dread and guilt fill his chest when he sees the look of terror in your eyes]

You: why?

King: I can't let you leave now that you know what I am, the government can't know that I'm still alive. I won't ever go back to being someone else's lab rat.

You: I understand. [Lowers your head in acceptance]

King: [can't bring himself to kill you, so he throws it down] damn it all, get out of my chair.

You: [scrabbles out, and silently watches him sit down and make a call using his den den mushi]

King: Kaido, the new navigator knows

Kaido: ehh? I just got them, do you know how hard it is to find a decent navigator and you're telling me you already killed the brand-new one!

King: I haven't killed them.

Kaido: They escaped you, are they at least wounded?

King: [gets comfortable in his chair] No, they're standing right before me.

You: [had a perfect view of his thighs and the v of his hips peaking out of the towel, and now you can see up his towel, so you look away]

Kaido: what's the hold-up?

King: [sees you looking away, so he leans forward, takes your jaw in his hand, and makes you look at him] We can't afford to lose our only navigator while out at sea. I want to keep them by my side in the meantime.

Kaido: [can tell he's not hearing the full truth] ... As long as it doesn't interfere with their duties, you can do whatever you want with them.

King: thank you

Kaido: now good night [hangs up]

King: [puts down the receiver, and runs his thumb over your lips] ... If you try to leave my sight, I will kill you without hesitation. You will stay by my side, and do everything I say. I do not tolerate disobedience, do you understand me? [Gently shakes you to get his point across]

You: [feels tears well up in your eyes]

King: [feels guilty] I'll have servants bring your things, you'll sleep here, with me, from now on... I'm not doing this to punish you, I'm doing this for my own safety, and because I don't want to kill you.

You: [sniffles] I understand

King: [can hear your distress in your voice and it makes him feel sick] Through that door is the bathroom, go bathe while I make a few calls.

You: [slinks into the other room]

King: [calls the kitchens to deliver your favorite desserts, and calls the servant quarters to have them bring your stuff to his quarters]

After your shower

You: [exits the bathroom wearing a clean kimono]

King: [lounging on the couch, in front of a rather impressive spread of sweets] Your things have been moved into your new room.

You: I'm getting a room all to myself?

King: no, you'll be sleeping with me, I need to know where you are at all times

You: we'll be sharing a bed?!

King: yes, now please help yourself to these sweets, I did order them for you.

You: you did, why? [Goes directly for your favorite dessert]

King: You were distressed, and this was the only way I could think of to help you feel better... Your distress is understandable, I know this isn't ideal for you, being practically chained to my side... And while I can't let you go, I just wanted you to know that... I don't want you to worry or be afraid of me, because I'm not going to hurt you. I can't risk going back to what I was before Kaido, I won't go back to it.

You: ... You mentioned the government earlier, I take it you were held captive by them.

King: yes, it's why I wear the mask.

You: [can see him practically squirming in his seat] Really? And here I was thinking you wore it because it was a fetish.

King: well it is, but it's not the sole reason I wear it.

You: Sasaki owes me 800 Berry then.

King: you people were betting on me?

You: to be fair we bet on everything, there's not a lot to do on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

King: [sighs dramatically] That's true, but back to the topic at hand, I usually kill people for finding out what I am.

You: but not me, what makes me so special?

King: I don't know.

You: [ruminates for a moment] How did seeing me distressed make you feel?

King: uncomfortable, guilty, I dunno? I just didn't like it.

You: hmm I see, so you don't want to kill me, seeing me upset disturbs you, and you have anxiety if I am out of your sight.

King: believe whatever you want about my reasoning, it changes nothing.

You: ... One final question

King: [rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms] Fine, final question.

You: when you were on the call with Kaido, why did you make me look at you?

King: I didn't like that you were looking away.

You: I see.

King: ... Why did you look away?

You: I could see up your towel.

King: How much did you see?

You: some of your balls, and most of your shaft.

King: [feels arousal and embarrassment well up in him] Are you finished with your food?

You: I believe so.

King: come, I'll show you the bedroom.

You: [follows him and takes it in] Why are there no lights?

King: because it's time for bed [gets settled in bed when he notices you haven't moved] are you coming or are you sleeping on the floor?

You: that bed doesn't look like it'll fit both of us?

King: [rolls his eyes, grabs your arm, and pulls you into the bed up on his chest.] It's just fine, relax and go to sleep, I won't do anything.

You: [rests your weight on him and struggles to get comfortable]

King: [agitated because you're so close to him and he's experiencing new emotions he didn't know he had] Would you stop fidgetingñ

You: I'm trying to get comfortable and avoid kicking you in your dick!

King: [realizes how aroused he is by having you so close] tsk, do it quickly.

The next morning

King:[wakes up empty-handed, panics, and looks around until he sees you]

You: [asleep on his wing, face nuzzled into his down feathers, and has handfuls of his flight feathers.]

King: [mental cogs slide into place and he realizes he's in love with you] Oh fuck [sits up]

You:[awakens with a shriek when the surface below is yanked out from under you]

King: [sits up on the side of the bed with his hands covering his face]

You: [pushes your upper half up onto your palms as you twist to look over at him] What's going on?

King: [ looks over to see you half asleep, messy-haired, and your kimono had loosened in your sleep and was now only closed over your lap and under the obi belt, giving him an eyeful of your shoulders, the center of your chest, and from mid-thigh down]

You: it's like five in the morning, what's going on? [Reaches out and pulls on his feathers]

King: nothing, go back to sleep.

You: [doesn't need to be told twice, and plops back down and wiggles back into a comfortable position]

Bout a week later

King: [has so much pent-up tension he's basically a walking time bomb that everyone avoids]

Kaido: what have you been doing to him to make him so cranky?

You: I have absolutely no clue.

Kaido: well you better do something about it before he snaps and burns down my ship.

You: [ goes to King's room to find him tensed up and hunched over his desk] Kaido wants me to do something.

King: what now?

You: he wants me to fix whatever I've been doing to make you so cranky.

King: [scoffs] You haven't done anything.

You: [climbs into his lap, straddles his thighs, and cups his cheeks] And that might be what I'm doing wrong.

King: [relaxes at the softness in your voice, but pulls your hands away from his mask] This is my problem to deal with.

You: can I please help, I'll do anything.

King: anything?

You: [nods] anything

King: [wraps his hands around your hips, and pushes you down so you're seated on his lap]

You: [feels the heat rolling off the erection trapped in his pants] Oh my

King: [guides your body to gently rock against him] You said you'd do anything, and it's your fault it's like this. Don't you think you should take responsibility?

You: [huffs, but puts your back into grinding down on him] It's been days since I moved in, why didn't you tell me sooner?

King: I was already keeping you captive, [Grunts and starts to pant as he tilts his hips up to get more friction] It felt like I would've been pressuring you into something non-consensual.

You: I see [slows your movements to a halt]

King: [huffs and bucks his hips in frustration, pulling on your hips to get you to move again] Don't fucking stop, please.

You: [goes slow] Tell me, is this just lust?

King: [desperate] It can be anything you want it to be, please I just want you.

You: is this all you want? My body?

King: I'll take whatever you give me, but I'll always want more. I'm so fucking greedy for you. I want it all, I want the sashimi you don't like. I want fun evenings out, and restless nights in with you, only to be followed by quiet passionate mornings with you. I want you to look at only me, smile at only me, to fuck only me. I'll take whatever you give, just please give me this, [Presses his thumbs into the softness on your belly] even if it's only this once.

You: you're in love with me?

King: [slumps pathetically into his chair in defeat, and looks at the ceiling] Fuck ... Yes, I am. I am in love with you, and spending every night with you pressed against me has made me insatiable.

You: [giggles]

King: [flips you off]

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[purplecoffee13]

Been in a nerdy H mood so maybe he’s got a crush on his co worker who is the complete opposite of him on the outside yet they both have so much in common! He’s not necessarily “smooth” but the reader finds it charming and sweet.

Ah yes, love me a nerdy Harry! Here you have it! I think it turned out cute, but I hope you like it as well!!

Wc: 1.7k

Warnings: none, just Harry being an awkward cutie!

It was a Monday morning. A dull prospect for anyone with an office job, but Harry found himself to be quite excited at the idea of strolling into the office this morning.

His big fat crush on one of his co-workers, Y/N, was the main instigator of that cheeriness that he brought into the office, along with a box of doughnuts for his fellow colleagues. And yes, it may also have been a ploy to talk to Y/N.

Harry wasn't the best at communicating. No, scratch that. Harry could be great at communicating... business plans. Feelings, however? Nope. Big disaster.

There were strings in his brain he'd need to pull to hold a good flirty conversation but they seemed to be just out of reach for him, which was quite unfortunate because it's not like he had his looks working against him.

Harry knew he wasn't ugly. Plenty of times, very beautiful women had come up to him. He often times was surprised with the beauty of these women approaching him. His mates always called him the 'most handsome one', and he did work out a lot to keep himself healthy. So yes, he could say he was well groomed.

And he'd hook up regularly. With women he'd meet at a crowded bar or a dark night club. Interactions that required little talking is where he strived. He got the standard dirty talk down, and since his confidence always skyrocketed in that department, it was the only kind of conversation he could hold. Then again, that might also be because the women he'll talk to are too fucked out of their mind to say anything.

Long story short, Harry was great, until he liked someone. So, instead of being able to come up with some witty comment to kickstart a conversation, he was now walking up to his work crush with a chocolate glazed donut.

Y/N was hunched over her work, tapping her pen against the paperwork that she seemed to be completely entranced by. Harry stopped right next to her, and was suddenly filled with a terror that made him want to crawl back into the hole he came from.

He didn't get the chance to do that, though, as Y/N looked up and met his eyes just as he decided he was going to turn back around. She smiled at the sight of him.

"Hi." She greeted with her soft voice.

"Hey." Harry breathed, his heart racing like maniac, and forgetting why he was here again until he spotted the donut in his hand. Right.

“I brought you a donut.” He stated, reaching it out to her. Her eyes fell to the food in his hand, and she chuckled as she took it from him.

“Thanks.” She said as she put it on her desk before looking back up at Harry, waiting for him to say something else.

Something else… what the fuck should he say?!

“Uh— well, I brought them for the entire office. But everyone’s grabbing at them so I figured I’d bring you one before they… ran out.” His ramble slowed down near the end of the sentence, only now realizing how stupid he was sounding. He was to kick himself in the head! Maybe it’d knock some conversational skills into him, jeez.

“Thanks Harry, I appreciate it.” Y/N tilted her head slightly, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. Fuck, how could she possibly look so hot and sweet at the same time?

“N— no problem… so I, uh I should probably—”

“Hey, did you end up watching that mini series I recommended?”

Harry’s eyes widened. He hadn’t expected her to keep the conversation going for so long.

“Uh, yes actually.” He responded.

Y/N and Harry, despite it not seeming that way, had a shitload in common. They both loved the same books, movies and series. They were both obsessed with murder documentaries and they had a mutual fascination with women in jazz.

So when Y/N recommended this crazy documentary series about the Night Stalker last week, Harry immediately watched it when he got home. He stayed up until one to binge it entirely and was groggy the entire following day. But it was worth it.

In fact, every thing Y/N would rave about, he’d check out. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to understand her better, and since he didn’t know how to— well, you know, TALK to her, he took this weird route.

Y/N gasped happily. “Did you like it?!”

“It was horrifying.” Harry stated. “I loved it.”

Y/N’s face broke out into a wide smile, and she leaned over her desk to grab her phone before she got up to stand next to Harry.

“Oh, I also found this weird documentary about the titanic on YouTube. The quality isn’t very good, it’s like very old, but I’ve been wanting to watch it for ages and I couldn’t find it anywhere. It’s so interesting! They like— act it out and everything.”

Harry just stared at the excited woman next to him as she typed in all kinds of things on her phone. He only took his eyes off her when she showed the video.

“You should send it to me.” Harry said, already fascinated with the first 20 seconds she was showing him. He leaned in further, his body grazing against hers. When he felt her gaze on him, his cheeks turned pink. “Uh, via work-email, if you want—”

She let out a breathy laugh. “Or you could give me your number.”

Harry was sure he could’ve fainted. Oh my god, oh my god. He was properly freaking out, well, internally.

“Right, yes.” He said, sounding a bit absent from how shocked he was about her asking him his number. When he realized he must’ve not sounded too enthusiastic about it, he suddenly began reaching for his phone in his pocket. “Yes! Uhm, wait, let me unlock it.”

Y/N looked eager as he typed in his password, went to his contact app and handed the phone to her. She giggled as she typed in her number before giving the phone back.

“You’ll have to text me first.” She said, and he nodded, immediately going to the chat and sending a ‘hey’. He let himself sigh in relief at how good this was going for the short second her phone dinged and she was concentrated on putting Harry in her contacts. That went away the second Y/N pointed the camera of her phone to him.

“What are you doing?” Harry laughed nervously.

“Giving you a contact photo.”

“And you want to do that now?”

“No time like the present.” She peered from behind her phone. “Now, smile!”

Harry smiled, at her ridiculousness that was, but he smiled nonetheless. Y/N let out a happy squeal as she turned the phone around and showed the picture to Harry. He grinned at the picture, but inside he was freaking out a bit. Jesus, did he really look at her like that? She was going to figure out he was crushing on her if he kept staring at her like that. Stupid fool! Did he have to be so obvious.

“Beautiful.” She said so lowly it was almost a whisper as she put in the contact photo. Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t fucking handle this anymore.

“Y/N.” He piped up before he could lose his nerve. Y/N hummed, looking up at her. “Would you like to go on a—”

“Styles! Stop chitchatting and get in here! The meeting is starting in three minutes!” Timmy, his co-worker cut off the question that Harry had been dying to ask for the past months.

“Shit. I have to go. Uh, have a good— I mean… erm, enjoy the donut.” He said and turned on his heels, racing to the meeting room. He was shouting profanities at himself in his mind. Fucking hell.

Enjoy your donut? Fool!

That was the only word he could think of that matched his personality well enough during the entire meeting. He didn’t catch any of what was said, but mindlessly nodded along anyway.

He sighed when he finally got back to his office and sat down in his chair. He whipped out his phone to put it on his desk, and his eyes flew to two unread messages from a number he hadn’t seen before. He unlocked his phone, and his stomach clenched at the sight of the messages.

Unknown Number

“Hi!”

“This is Y/N, by the way.”

Harry smiled, looking through his window to Y/N’s desk. It was how he noticed her in the first place. When she began working here, she was placed at that desk and Harry had received the luxury of being able to look at her beautiful face as many times a day as he wanted.

Harry

“Right, put you in my contacts.”

Harry wrote back, and suddenly felt a flash of boldness washing over him. Texting was easier, it wasn’t half as nerve wracking as standing in front of Y/N. He could think of his answers properly before saying them.

Harry

“I’m only missing a contact photo, though.”

A few minutes went by, and Harry was done starting up his laptop when his phone screen lit up again. He clicked on the message, and was met with a picture of Y/N.

It was a selfie of her with the donut he brought her this morning. She had placed the donut in front of her mouth, showing off her breathtaking eyes.

Y/N

“Will this one do?”

Fuck yes it did.

Harry

“It’s approved.”

He peered over at Y/N’s desk and noticed her smiling as she texted something back. His stomach fluttered. He was all giddy over this.

Y/N

“I have some bad news for you though.”

Harry looked up at Y/N again, frowning. When their eyes met, he noticed that she still had that playful grin on her face, which broke out in a mischievous laugh before she began typing again.

Y/N

“I’ve decided to revoke your access to the Titanic documentary.”

Harry bit his lip, excitement coursing through his veins.

Harry

“Now that’s just brutal. How am I supposed to watch it, then?”

Y/N

“How about Friday night, at my place? :)”

Harry’s eyes nearly popped out of his sockets as he read the text. It knocked the wind out of him, and he had to remind himself how to breathe before even thinking of a response because he’d forgotten how to do it for a second.

He was so excited he could jump through a roof.

Harry

“That sounds like a very good solution :)”

If anyone is truly interested in that Titanic documentary, here ya go.

[lovemouche]

lovesick all over my bed ౨ৎ

satoru x fem reader

18+ / mdni

It was never meant to end up like this.

Satoru had stated the boundary of no strings attached prior to entangling himself with you — metaphorically and, quite literally too. The relationship was meant to start and end with physicality only. That was the one rule he made sure to implement for himself. That was where he drew the line. 

"Y-yes. right there. Please."

And yet, these days, he's been finding himself caught in the cavern of a predicament, worn down to the point where he can't think of much, besides tangled limbs and open mouthed kisses, hot and wet as he'd breathe heavily against your form. Worn down to the point where he can't think of anything else besides you. 

Even now, as you lay underneath him, needy and bare, shaped like a deity, challenging the outline of divinity, he's still thinking of you. Always.

And it's driving him crazy, consuming every waking thought of his. Because he just doesn't know how it all led up to this. Satoru can't fathom how an inkling of affection he dismissed as nothing more than a momentary impulse burgeoned into something more profound. Into something so alarming. Into—

No. 

No. No. No.

No. He doesn't want to name the emotion just yet. He can't. Labelling it just solidifies his fear into truth, and the prospect that the feeling blossoming inside his chest aligns with what he’d dreaded feeling the most crosses every boundary he had set for himself. 

Love, the most twisted curse of all. 

"Ah, Satoru—"

The call of his name drags him out of his reverie. It's whispered softly against his skin, flushed as he clings to you desperately, secure enough to hold you in place, but never too much to hurt you. 

"Yeah?" he asks tentatively, his movements being put to a pause. After loosening his grip around your body, he shifts the bend of legs on the mattress to keep his weight from overwhelming you. "You okay, princess?" 

His hand travels from the curve of your waist to trace the outline of your jaw, carefully and, much too lovingly for someone who's only meant to use you for emotional release. "Does anything hurt?" he asks, thumbing the apple of your cheek with gentle strokes, noticing how you shiver under the touch. 

You shake your head, but it's not enough to convince him otherwise; the lack of a verbal response only has his mind flooding with concern even more, especially because you've never stopped him mid-sex. Not once in the entire seven months of your arrangement. 

"Talk to me," he encourages. 

Instinctively, you lay your hand on top of the one toying with your cheek, your fingertips lightly rubbing at his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. Satoru feels his chest constrict. It's not a big gesture, he knows. But it feels so intimate—so sweet. 

Anyone would assume he would've gotten used to it by now, but even with familiarity and time, everything you do only seems to make his heart race even more. 

He's grateful the dim lights don't manage to catch the flush beginning to spread throughout his features, but he's certain you can feel the way his cock hardens inside you, even if you don't comment on it—which he's also grateful for.

God, he's hopeless. 

The control you have over him is dangerous, he realizes. Part of him wants to pull away before any damage can be done. But the other, bigger part welcomes the peril with open arms. 

"It's just..." you trail off, letting out a sigh of frustration as you try to find the right words. 

"Should I pull out?" 

"No," you huff, tone authoritative. Out of reflex, your legs tighten around him, thighs caging his waist to keep him in place—because you definitely don't want him to pull out. Not with how good he's filling you up right now. "Just... shut up for now." 

Satoru acquiesces to your request. Despite his reservations, he nods, albeit a bit reluctantly, and makes a testament to his obedience by pretending to zip his mouth up with pinched fingers. 

"You just... seem a little out of it nowadays, like you're distracted. So I wanted to know if you were okay."

You take a brief pause. Satoru waits with bated breath. 

"We're friends too, you know? You can talk to me about these things. It doesn't always have to be sex," you add softly, probing gently to gauge the situation while making sure to leave enough room for him to make the decision to open up. Because really, he doesn't owe you any explanation. 

He doesn't owe you anything at all.

Satoru feels his heart swell, pressing up against his sternum, too big for his chest—everything he feels for you is too much for him to carry. 

I know, he thinks bitterly to himself. That's the problem. I don't want to be your friend anymore. 

But he doesn't want to lose you either, and he knows that if he let the dam break, if he let loose every emotion he's been struggling to keep at bay, he'd only ruin everything. 

He'd lose you. And he'd lose himself in the process.

So Satoru parries your question with ease, because honesty isn't his forte—both towards you and himself. 

"Nothing's wrong," he insists, raising an arm to pin your hand up against the bedsheet, intertwining your fingers with his. "Don't worry." 

Resting his forehead on top of your sweat kissed one, he resumes his movements languidly. "Just...just focus on how good I'm making you feel, o—oh—okay?" 

He trips on his words at the sensation of being sucked in and out of your sweet cunt, and he prays—god, he prays—that the feeling of being inside you is enough to compensate for not having you entirely, even if just for a moment. 

But it's not enough, and Satoru can't help but feel that it never will be. 

He slides in and out of you, his desire heavy. And you moan in response, chest rising from the laboured breaths that follow each sinful thrust, hips gyrating automatically to match his pace. 

And it feels good. It feels so fucking good. But the pleasure isn't enough to cloud his senses and dispel his anxiety. Because he's looking at you and his heart is already tugging at its seams. And Satoru feels helpless. 

And he's not sure what it is—if it's the high that ensues being wrapped around your tight walls, or the way you fit so perfectly against him, as if you were made to be held by him, as if he was made just to hold you—but something about tonight has him desperate for more than just late night messages that lead to loveless fucking. 

Something about tonight has him desperate for all of you. Mind and body, heart and soul. 

The notion is heady, and the revelation steals his breath. It roots itself inside his chest and demands his attention, aching to be acknowledged. 

He's so caught up in his head, so lost in thought that he doesn't even register the fact that his movements have been put to a halt and his cock has stilled inside you. Not until you press a shaky palm to his chest in worry.

"Hey," you breathe out. "What's wrong?"

Satoru has to bite his tongue to refrain from telling you that: everything is. There are so many things he wants to tell you, but he's scared it'll poison every next moment. He's scared he'll lose you in the only way he knows he can have you. 

Everything is wrong, he wants to say.

Instead, he stays quiet. 

There an ugly feeling gathering in the pit of his stomach. He wants, so badly, to say something—anything. But he can't. The only reaction he can offer you is the widening of eyes, and his mouth parting in shock before his lips purse into a disappointed frown.

Being in... fuck he'll name it. Being in love shouldn't indemnify him from acting like an idiot, but love has a way of blurring all reason, all rationality. 

He waits for you to speak again, unwilling to break the silence himself—too afraid of what might follow, too afraid that you've already seen right through him.

And he feels pathetic, of course, for being reduced to such a scattered mess, because he's supposed to be the strongest. And for the most part, he is. He really is. But when it comes to you, he can't seem to live up to that title. When it comes to you, he can't seem to be anything else but yours. 

The yearning—to mean something more to you, to be everything to you—settles in his bones. It's draining his soul. He's standing on the edge of a cliff, left to teeter somewhere in between unbridled emotion and self restraint. It's a precarious position to be placed in, and he's hanging by a mere thread. 

Seconds stretch into what feels like an eternity. The air feels like it's heavy with impending demise, and the silence engulfs him like black tar. It's suffocating, to say the least. Satoru isn't sure if he wants to prolong the moment or get it over with. He feels his heart pound against his chest—that treacherous thing.

So when you finally say something, he breaks.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" 

He falls apart. 

"I'm sorry," he chokes out, voice timid and exceptionally apologetic, head hanging low in refusal to meet your eyes. The sight of him is pitiful; you can't, for the life of you, understand why.

It's strange seeing Satoru in such a vulnerable state. Not because you don't assume he doesn't have his own baggage to carry, but because you never thought he'd be willing to expose this side of himself to you.

It's everything out of the ordinary, like witnessing god crumble at your feet, or having an executioner beg to be pardoned for all his killings.

"I'm sorry," he repeats. Only this time, it feels more resigned, like he's admitting defeat. It almost feels like he's apologising to you. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

But how could that be? and why would it ever be?

"What? Sat—ah."

Satoru falls slack on top of you, pressing the weight of his body against yours. He buries his head into the crook of your neck, chin moving to rest on your shoulder as he evades your gaze. You feel his hands travel south as he continues whispering a mantra of apologies into your skin.

It's a vain endeavour, trying to lift yourself up to get him to talk to you properly. The grip on your hip keeps you anchored, leaving you no room for anything other than compliance; it's as if he's scared you'll leave if he lets go even for a second.

And honestly, he is. 

"Satoru. Don't be like this please."

"I'm sorry," is all he says. 

"Satoru, look at—"

"No."

"Look at me." 

"I'm an idiot."

"No," you interject. "You are not."

"But I am." It's muffled, his voice. A Little shaky too. "I know I'm an idiot, so don't," he pleads. "Don't look at me. I don't want you to see me right now. I can't." 

"You need to tell me what's wrong."

"You're going to hate me. I'm going to ruin everything."

"How?" 

"I'm sorry."

"Satoru."

"I'm sorry," he repeats, his grip on you tightening, fingernails digging soft crescents into your skin. "I'm sorry; I got too greedy." 

Your eyebrows pinch. 

Satoru can practically feel your confusion, and he wants to die, because you don't get it. You just don't get it. Not at all. Not one bit. Not until he whispers five words that knock all the air out of your lungs:

I love you. I'm sorry.

There's a pregnant pause, hesitant, unsure. And then:

"Wha—what? No. You—you're lying." 

Satoru shakes his head in disagreement, vehemently refusing your claim. 

Lying? How could he ever lie about such a thing? He could feign indifference at most, try to brush past it and let the feeling linger until it subsides. But he can't, and it hasn't, and he's tired of pretending that he doesn't love you anymore. Because he does. He loves you too much to push those feelings away. 

"It's true," he admits. "I—I tried not to... you know? I tried not to—fuck, I'm sorry." 

The confession should have lifted the burden, or at the very least, eased it. But his lips struggle to form words, and his heart ricochets against his ribcage. 

"Look at me," you implore.

"No."

He's certain you must hate him now. That by tomorrow, or tonight even, he'll leave the place—the person—he's associated with home as nothing more than a stranger. 

Even worse, a mistake. 

"Please?" 

But your arms crawl to wrap around his torso, and your legs squeeze around his own in silent reassurance, like you're trying to convey to him that you're not going anywhere. And if that isn't enough to convince him to listen, Satoru doesn't know what is. 

When he finally raises his head, your eyes linger on the contours of his face, studying his crestfallen expression. He's anguished, that's for sure. You just can't wrap your head around the fact that it's probably you who's causing his misery. 

Because Satoru is... well, Satoru—he's the strongest.

So who are you to be able to wreck him this much?

"Do you..." you swallow, still unconvinced, words quieting down to a whisper. "Do you really love me?" 

Without looking at you, Satoru nods. it's not enough of an answer, though. 

"Tell me, please." 

He lets out a slow, shuddering exhale, chest stuttering on his next breath. He's silent for a few seconds, thinking. Until finally, with a slight crack to his voice, he says. "I do." very tremulously. "I love you." 

Which is painful to admit, because he doesn't even know what to do now that it's been said. Satoru's not sure how he can give you something he's never been shown. He's not even sure if he deserves it, or if you'll even want his affection. 

But there's so much of it, so much love growing in his chest that he fears it'll crack his ribs. So he's willing to try, even if it might ruin him in the process, 

He's willing to do anything, so long as it's for you. 

It's as simple as that, really. 

"You're lying. I—you can't be serious."

Well, maybe not really.

"I am." Satoru nods pathetically, like a wounded puppy, like his heart is in tatters because you can't believe him even after he's laid himself so embarrassingly bare like this. "I love you." 

"But you said—"

"I know," Satoru interrupts, and his lips are bowed. "I know. I'm a hypocrite. I got too selfish. But I can't help it anymore, I'm sorry. I love you too much to push these feelings away." 

Satoru feels every muscle in your body go stiff at the admission. You're rendered speechless, once again; hesitant in your words, even more so in your actions. And he feels like he's made a grave mistake, that right then and there, he's ruined everything—he's lost you.

But then the right corner of your mouth quirks, hinting at the faintest of smiles, and an obtrusive feeling of hope sparks within him, fizzling out his nerves like cheap soda. 

"Why would you be sorry?" you scold, flicking his forehead. "The only thing you should be sorry about is worrying me. Do you know how scared I was seeing you go MIA while you were still inside me?"

"I'm still inside," he reminds you. 

You groan. "this is not the time." 

"I know." He frowns, but the tension from earlier is nowhere to be found, and Satoru feels even more at ease now that you've begun playing with his hair, twirling the strands between your fingers. "I'm sorry. I don't really know what else to say." 

"You don't need to say anything else."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't upset or anything?"

"Why would I be?"

"I don't know." He lowers his head to rest on top of your chest, all watery and emotional, pressing his cheek just above where your heart lies to find solace in the rhythmic pitter patter of beats. "I just expected you'd be mad or... disappointed, you know?" 

"Well I'm not, so don't worry about anything, okay?"

"Okay," he hums.

You don't say anything after that. Neither does he. It's quiet for a while, and you take the time to think while basking in the afterglow of such a raw moment. 

It's all still so surreal. 

You feel like the universe is playing a prank on you, like Satoru's orchestrating a sick, cruel joke to mess with your system. But you're cradling his head in your hand, lovingly tracing arbitrary shapes on his scalp, and you swear you can hear how fast his heart is racing. 

It's in tandem with yours.

And perhaps, that's all that matters. 

Maybe you were an idiot not to have realised it sooner. Maybe you were just in denial too. But it's as clear as day now, and you really can't deny the fact that it has always felt like you and Satoru were made for each other. Because when you take his hand into yours, and it feels like the spaces between your fingers were shaped just to hold him like this, you're certain that it's always been more than just sex. 

"Satoru?"

"Yeah?"

"Me too."

He gives you a quizzical look. You smile.

"I love you too."

[marvelrivalromance]

Marvel Rivals has me in a chokehold so thanks for setting this blog up.

Now how about a Loki x Vanguard!Reader that always peels for him whenever he’s getting harassed by those pesky dualists and dive tanks?

GLHF with your matches and have a nice whatever time of day it is for you!

Thank you and I hope you have fun with your matches as well, and hope you enjoy this! Loki is real fun personality wise, that sort of pompous, smug, and a bit self centered at times. but because of that it kinda makes him endearing. Kinda similar to Astarion from BG3 if you know about him

• Loki is very much the type who looks down on his fellow teammates, they practically need him to survive and are constantly in need of his guiding hand to get things done. Safe to say he has a bit of a.. complex.. It's easy to hear when he groans in frustration seeing those fools leave him alone on an abandon point. When seeing a new face on the team it doesn't spark much confidence, he could tolerate at least another support, but no it had to be another probably meat-headed tank. His expectations are low, at least hoping for the best that you are at least some what cognoscente to stay with in sight that he could heal you so you might prevent those annoying types from getting to his actual self or his illusionary doppelgangers

• It doesn't take long for him to find himself at a nice vantage point at the start of the match, away from most of the others battling while he keeps the team alive. That is until that pesky Spider-man notices his location, the young idiot webbing him instead of his illusions due to that bothersome spider sense of his. He knows calling out for help is practically pointless when everyone else's attention is elsewhere, he could fight as best he could against this irritating bug, but Spider-man already got his advantage. Just as the punch flies toward his face, Loki watches as his opponent is slammed into the other wall, and before him stands you.

• You quickly use your abilities to defeat the enemy spider, before giving him a smile and a thumbs up before going back to the fight with the others. Suffice to say, you jumped up on Loki's list of who he prioritizes keeping alive, Even if it was a one time thing. Perhaps he was just lucky you had caught it in time or you had already been targeting the Spider-man. Then it happens again, cornered with low health by that Dreaded Hulk, only for you to step between the two and give Loki some much needed breathing room.

• Loki quickly finds himself kept alive a lot more with you on the team. You're one of the few who bother to check in with the strategist like himself. What turns into keeping you alive as priority and conveniences turns into blatant favoritism. It's easy to see how smug he gets when you save him, healing you when you take a bit of damage over the clearly more injured Iron Fist. Safe to say you've found yourself in the graces of the God of Mischief. It's hard to know if that is really a good thing or not.

• Most notice the change but are smart enough not to comment on it, rather not prod at something that is at least beneficial. You're a solid fighter, and with Loki's healing, you can stay alive even when clearly outnumbered. He preens when ever you thank him for his help. Sure others have made sure to give thanks to the God for keeping them alive as they should, But when you do it, he can't help but feel a bit more pride, he can tell you are doing it not out of keeping his wrath at bay, but because you understand his role as the true leader of the team (his thoughts of course) In turn he will thank you in a less backhanded way that he would some of the others, after all, while he might not admit it, he has become fond of you.

I imagine a few maybe interactions of dialogue might be a mix of his odd praise so to speak

"Finally, someone I know will listen to commands unlike the rest of you"

"Ah there is my loyal subject, I trust you will keep your God safe yes?"

"Your talents are wasted on these fools, tell me, how would you like to be my most trusted knight? A king is not without his royal guard"

[bettystonewell]

MUST LOVE DOGS

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: The Colonel needs to take a leak. Rather than risk the stench of dog piss in their already rank motel room, Dean, begrudgingly, obliges. It’s lucky(?) he does.

Word Count: 900 words

Tags: language, terrible pick up lines, humour, bad puns, Dean picks up—————————————————————Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dean rubbed the sleep further into his eyes. 

Where’d that damn dog go?

The least he could’ve done is thank him for letting him out of the room. Just because he took the potion and could communicate with him didn’t mean he needed to be woken up. Sammy was right there. And closest to the door. 

The Colonel hadn’t even given him the chance to put on pants, let alone his boots or socks, before he was scratching away their security deposit, and the hunter had no choice but to walk outside into the crisp morning air with bare feet after him. 

Luckily, he was wearing boxers.

Luckier still, he always wore them over briefs and this print left less to the imagination than his regular ones did. 

Dean shut room one-oh-two off from the world and stepped away from the safety of the pavement and onto the gravel flooring of the car park with a grimace. Those tiny ass pebbles hurt. 

He looked around to his right, then to his left, but the Colonel was nowhere in sight. 

Fuck. 

“Here boy!” He whistled. 

“Hey!” he hissed next. 

Yes, Dean was rocking the ‘just stumbled outta bed look,’ but that didn’t mean he wanted to draw anymore attention to himself. 

It was after five. 

The sun was up. 

He couldn’t tell you the last time he’d seen a sunrise that hadn’t involved him wrapping up a salt and burn first, and chances were, the louder he was, someone freakier than Sammy was bound to... 

“Is he yours?” A friendly voice called out.

Fuck. It had to be a chick.

His head turned in your direction to find you standing on the other side of the lot to him. Leaning, rather, because the Colonel’s doggy mitts pushed against your shoulders. 

Where’d you come from? Because it was nothing but bony bushes and an empty street behind them two seconds ago.

“She smells great,” the mutt said, between licks to your smiling cheeks. “You should try sniffin’ her butt.”

Dean’s eyes widened as you giggled, unaware of the perv molesting your face. 

While he couldn’t comment on your scent, you sure looked damn fine in the tight yoga pants that stressed your curves underneath them.  

Whatever was holding up the ladies was doing a marvellous job, too.

“Alright. Down, boy.” Dean scowled and trotted over to you on the balls of his feet. 

Ow. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Shit. Shit. Was it that wrong to punch a dog?

“Yeah, ah, he’s mine.” He grinned as he pulled up beside you with a touch of suave to his attempted swagger.

“No, I’m not,” came the expected retort.

Dean grabbed the Colonel’s scruff and yanked him off of you, thumping into the fur of the dog’s rump with a heavy hand. It was the next best thing to his fist. Better still, when the Colonel whined like a little bitch over it.

“That’s enough, buddy,” Dean said with a boyish chuckle. “Sorry ‘bout that.” 

“No, no. It’s fine.” You bent down to rub the mutt’s neck affectionately. “He’s adorable.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Was he game to ask you for your number and play the douche from one of them chick flicks? 

Hell yeah, he was. 

They would be in town for at least another two nights with the way this case was going, so if John Cusack could do it, he could do it too.

“You know who else is adorable?” He clicked his tongue and winked at you, forgetting all about his lack of ensemble just as you noticed it.

“Oh.” The sun picked up the amusement in your eyes as they travelled up his frame and landed in the general area of his junk. “You or Scooby?” 

You were neck a neck with that part of him height wise, and he looked down to see Ol’ Scoob staring back at you.

Now, there was nothing wrong with a grown man wearing boxer shorts bearing a cartoon dog. Especially ones of this calibre. They wouldn’t make them in his size if there was a problem, no matter what Sam or anyone else, including you, said, and Dean stood tall with pride. 

Think, man, think.

He could work with this, he could. You seemed open to his advances, and he went all out with a lick of his lips and a raise of both brows. “Not me. I’m awesome.” He held his hand out and helped you to your feet again. “But would ya do me for a Scooby Snack?”

That earned him a grin, your hand smoothing his shoulder, and what he swore was an eye roll from the Colonel. 

“You’re a bigger douchebag than I thought,” he said, but Dean’s focus remained on you.

“How about the snack first? Meet me at Rocky’s Bar tonight at eight.”

Oh, hell yes.

“Maybe you should wear something besides this so I can solve the mystery myself, though.” And with that, you walked away, leaving Dean stunned. Your hips, swaying from side to side, had to be on purpose. 

“I owe you one, buddy,” Dean muttered, patting the Great Dane covering his crotch and not the real life canine next to him.

“What about me?” The Colonel’s bark had you twisting around one last time to wave. “That mutt might’ve saved your ass, but I got you out here in the first place.” ”You’re lucky I love dogs,” Dean hissed through his goofy grin.

”And you’re lucky she does.”

Read on AO3 || Masterlist———————————————————Thank you so much for reading! I dunno about anyone else, but even if someone with a face like Dean/Jensen used that on me, I don’t think I’d be all that friendly.

Coming soon - Snickerdoodles & Special Sauce - 31/02

(Multiple POV - SMUT - 3 Parts - 18+)

‘Twas the night of fake Christmas and all through the halls, creatures were stirring, eventually on all fours… or …Mrs Butters isn’t just messing with Dean’s underwear drawer. She’s messing with your love lives, too. Dubious Consent by Eggnog.—————————————————————

DEAN TAGLIST: @globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

If you'd like to be added to the list, Imk.

[lackofspace]

Hey! this has been on my head for a while, so I'm just gonna leave it here and hope that it leaves my mind :)

ps: I wrote this really fast, I did not check for misspellings at all, english is not my first language and it's my first time writing anything!!! so please thread lightly lol

birdflash where they've been friends so long that Wally has known Dick's and Bruce's id's before most of the rest of the family were even adopted, close enough that when Wally 'retires' and goes to college he still recieves texts from Dick's siblings asking for help with cases or homework when Dick himself isn't available and so, we come to our plot

Bruce is getting married (to whom is up to you) and while Wally sees himself as a close family friend he doesn't get an invite, which, in his mind it's fine since well it's Bruce Wayne/Batman it'll probably be a really small lowkey thing only family and some friends and he's honestly not upset at all until he's hanging out in the Manor a couple of weeks before the wedding with Jason and Damian that it comes up

'Did you get fitted today?' Jason asks Damian, he's typing in his phone slanted over a armchair in the corner of the library

'Yes, although I do not see the need for another suit' He's in front of Wally with his physics homework open in the room's coffe table, 'Father seems to think we are all heathens who cannot keep a suit intact for more than a night' the comment clearly a jab

'Ah yes, I'm sorry mister prim and proper, it was not my intention to inconvenience you' Jason rolls his eyes still glued to his phone

'What about you, Wallace? Do you have a suit? Do make sure you get an approval from Alfred, the ceremony will be an informal one but he would hate the family photos not looking proper because of your two sizes bigger attire' Damian says not even looking up from his notebook

'Well then Alfred will be happy to hear he does not have to worry because I'm not coming' He responds laughing a bit

And that makes them both look up in sync with matching glares that make Wally jump a bit

'Why ever not? Do you have prior arrangements? I understand if that's the case but surely they can be postponed?' Damian frowns

'Is it college stuff? The wedding is going to be on a sunday, no way it's college, you're a nerd so there's also no way you can't skip having to study for a test for one day' Jason remarks, he's sitting up now phone forgotten

Wally is surprised with how much his absence at the wedding seems to annoy them

'It's nothing like that guys, I just didn't get an invitation, I figured your dad is doing a lowkey thing and there's not going to be many guests so I get it, I'm not mad or anything' He says in a tone that seems to be to placate them and he does not understand why

'But I swear I'm not upset! Don't tell your dad, I don't want to cause any trouble for the preparations and I'm sure everything will be beautiful' he spills the words quickly before they can interrupt him

'You were not invited?' Damian says face contorting into a frown even more

'Uh yeah, Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris got one, it wasn't metioned I could come and I swear I wasn't- am not! upset but, I asked Donna if she was invited and she said that she was, through Diana, so I guessed that if Barry and Iris' invitation didn't mention anything then... yeah' he says shrugging

'What the hell?' Jason exclaims picking up his phone and texting someone 'Did you only ask Donna?'

'Yeah?' Wally says, unsure

'Roy is coming too' Jason tells him

'Oh?' Wally doesn't know if that's supposed to make him feel better

'I invited him, dipshit, we were all granted plus ones, even the demon brat is bringing someone'

'They are coming as a friend' Damian remarks glaring 'Richard should have communicated you sooner'

'Uh well maybe Dick is bringing someone else?' and if until now nothing about the situation had particularly made him sad, this thought springing in to his head and out his mouth made his hands ache because of course, of course he was just another among many in love with the absolute sun that was Dick Grayson

While they remained friends Wally had made his feelings known sometime ago, the rejection had hit hard but it was true that their friendship was more important so they tried to keep as they were, unfortunately communication became strained and they didn't hang out as much that with college and Wally's feelings between them and so it escaped Wally why his siblings thought that he would be Dick's plus one for a wedding, his father's wedding no less

'This is important, maybe he thought bringing me might be weird?' This is not where Wally thought his impromptu tutoring session/hang out was going to go, he feels somehow like he's in the wrong for not getting an invitation with the way they are looking at him

'Bruce didn't send invites to those he knew were coming anyway' Jason states 'Dickhead was supposed to invite you'

'I'm sorry...? but he didn't, guys let's forget about this ok? I'm sure Dick has his reasons, the ceremony is going to look amazing and you guys can show me pictures later, how about that?' trying to end the subject less they discover why he does not appear at the manor unannounced anymore and why he chose a university so far away

that's kind all I have in me ya'll, this was mostly trying to show how much Dick and Wally are so involved in each other's lives that they become a package deal to everyone else, the story is supposed to go: batgossip and confusion since they know Dick is in fact in L O V E with Wally and bat siblings scheming while birdflash pine, ANGST!!! (the whole reason I wrote this honestly, I love angst and requited unrequited feelings), feelings realization and their happy ever after weeks later when Wally shows up as Dick's plus one

[storm-angel989]

Hello ! I saw your Valentino's daughter fics and they're ⭐amazing⭐

Can u request Valentino with a daughter who also has shitty eyesight ( you can pick any scenario but this could be one if main points in the fic)

Thank you💛

As someone who ALSO has super bad eyesight, this was a fun one to write! I hope you enjoy the scenario- and if you're looking for a different vibe, please feel free to request!

Valentino’s biggest frustration with having an elementary aged daughter was parent teacher conferences. And the first one of the school year was always the worst. Year after year, it never failed. His darling wife would conveniently be out of town that week, or working late or for one of the numerous, annoying, yet totally valid reasons, he would end up by himself, with a notebook of discussion points painstakingly written by his wife.

Without her by his side, what should be a friendly discussion about their pride and joy often felt more like a business meeting. He tried so hard to not take offense to her list of improvements, and bit back any snarky response to comments that even hinted that his sweet little girl was anything less than perfect. So much so that he felt the need to distance himself from the start, lest his emotions get the best of him. 

On the flip side, their concerns about their daughter were front and center, to be brought up first before anything else. This year, the headaches were at the top of that list. And the possible cause was enough to make Valentino’s blood boil. 

“Daddy, I have a headache,” his daughter complained once again over breakfast that morning. Like every other occurrence, he took her temperature, gave her some aspirin and sent her off to school. By the time she was picked up, either the headache was gone or it had gotten worse. But with no fever and no other symptoms they could tell, he and his wife wondered if something else was going on at school. 

The very thought made it close to impossible to keep the business facade on. 

As he tried to bite back the potential accusation, he looked around at the empty elementary hallway.  As a rule, Valentino refused to acknowledge the nostalgic feeling that threatened to wash over him. Though he had to admit to himself, no matter how many years had passed, the scent of stale air and dusty chalk still remained the same. 

“Ah, Mr. Valentino. Come on in,” her teacher greeted him with a smile as she stood up from her desk. “I’m Miss. Tyme. It’s nice to meet you- your daughter is truly a delight to have in my classroom.” She led him across the room and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Please, take a seat.” 

With her friendly nature and off the bat compliment, he felt his anger slowly recede. Alright, Valentino, he thought to himself, you can do this. You can treat this like every other business meeting. Don’t make it personal. 

He took a seat in the too small chair and looked around at the room. For all of the things hell lacked, a decent schooling system for hellborn children was not one of those things. The classroom itself was bright, cheerful and covered in work clearly done by a group of kindergarteners. 

“Before we get started, do you have any concerns you’d like to address?” Miss. Tyme asked.

“Yes, I do.” He leaned forward. “reader frequently complains of headaches in the morning and after school. My wife and I have received numerous calls from the school nurse about the same issue, so much so we gave written permission for the nurse to dispense tylenol at school. I want to know if there is something going on here that could be causing her to not want to come to school each day. Something going on here that could be causing those headaches.” Even to him, his voice sounded sharp. 

To her credit, Miss. Tyme didn’t flinch. She nodded as she spoke, “I’m glad you brought that up, it’s a topic I wanted to discuss as well. Last week, reader complained of not being able to see the board. I moved her closer and she seemed to be much happier and kept up with the class work. I also noticed she’s been progressively holding her papers and books closer to her face. Have you seen that at all at home?”

Her confidence caught him off guard. He expected her to argue against his insinuation, not politely side step it. 

“Her Uncle Vox does her homework with her. I can ask him,” he replied defensively. 

She nodded, “very good. I would like to suggest you reach out to her pediatrician about her headaches and schedule a vision test. While I’m not a doctor, I have seen students with similar concerns who ended up needing glasses.” 

Valentino stared at her. “Glasses?”

She nodded, “of course it’s only a suggestion. Let’s move onto her academics…” she pulled out a thick file, “your daughter is kind, creative and quite bright. She is a joy to have in class. Take a look at this story she wrote….” 

As Valentino reviewed the work with her teacher, he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that he may have ever so slightly jumped to conclusions. By all the teacher reports, his daughter was well liked, and above average in all subject areas. So where did the headaches fit in? Was she right? Was it vision related? 

Sure,he had glasses, but her mom had perfect eyesight. And when was the last time her pediatrician did a vision test? As soon as the conference was over, and he was safely in the privacy of his limo, he called his wife. After all, every parenting decision they made was done in unison. 

“Vision issues don’t run on my side of the family, but it can’t hurt,” his wife replied after he filled her in on the details. “Schedule her an appointment for this afternoon. She’d be delighted to have some daddy daughter time.” 

Valentino pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can’t just have her come downstairs for this one, mi amore. I actually have to call my ophthalmologist and see if he’ll take her. Or if he can recommend someone who specializes in kids.”

“Like I said Val, it can’t hurt. If not tonight, later this week. Make a day out of it with her, it’s been awhile since either one of us took her out for anything really. And check with Vox and Vel. See if they’ve noticed anything.”

His wife had a point. She spent more time being babysat by Vox or Velvette as of the late with the amount they both needed to be working. It would be nice to actually spend some time with his own daughter. He hung up with his wife and with another phone call, she had an appointment with his eye doctor the next day. Perfect. He texted Vox and Velvette the plan and got a quick response back from both. Vox agreed with the assessment- he had noticed the change in behavior as well. Velvette too, noted that she seemed to be sitting closer and closer to the TV screen. With this knowledge, Valentino sighed. He was certain she would end up with glasses, just like her Papi. 

Later that night, as he helped her change into her pajamas, he told her the plan to keep her home from school the next day. 

“What’s an opthoi…ophi…ophimi…” reader tried to ask. 

"Opthamologist, little one. It’s a doctor that specializes in just checking your eyes,” Valentino replied as he tugged her shirt over her head. He lifted her up onto the bed and covered her up with her blanket before he laid down next to her. “Your teacher noticed you seem to be having a hard time reading the board, so we’re going to have your eyes checked out.,Valentino leaned over and kissed her forehead, “might be why you’re getting such bad headaches all the time.” 

She snuggled into him and buried her face into his side. “Good. Cause my head hurts alot,” she said, “like a lot alot.”

Valentino felt a pang of guilt as he held her. He wished he had thought of this potential cause sooner. Maybe they would already have a reason, and she wouldn’t be in so much pain.

 “I know, bebita, but hopefully this will give us some answers,” he said softly. “Now go to sleep.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes?”

“Am I going to need glasses like you?” She looked up at him.

Valentino felt a pang in his heart. “Would that trouble you?” 

She shrugged against him. “I dunno. A little. Only one of my friends has glasses. And what happens if I don’t need glasses, and the headaches keep happening.”

He listened quietly as she unloaded her worries and fears, offering reassurance when necessary and silently rubbed her back as she spoke. Eventually, her voice grew softer and he lifted her onto his chest and laid her head against him. He felt her press her head into his chest and he let out a slow exhale as her eyelids fell shut. 

“Whatever happens, pequeño amor, Papi will be right there by your side the whole time. And we all love you so very much.” He felt her breathing slow and dropped the volume of his voice. “Duerme bebe niña papá está aquí. Sleep, baby girl. Daddy is here. Shush…”

With the weight of her tiny body on top of his chest, he closed his own eyes. Eventually, he would be able to get up and get to his laptop to get a little bit more work done, but for the moment, he was content where he was. 

When she came bounding out of her bedroom that next morning, Valentino had breakfast ready for her. Together they ate blueberry pancakes and giggled over the newspaper comics until it was time for her to get ready. 

“Daddy?” She asked as he tied her sneakers. 

“Yes bebita?”

“My tummy feels funny.”

His head shot up and his eyes met hers. Worry played over her features and Valentino relaxed. He could handle her fears. 

“Butterflies?” He asked with a kiss on her forehead. “Daddy’s got you. Don’t worry, my love. It will be okay, I promise.”

He lifted her up and carried her out to the limo. She sat on his lap and watched out the window as he scrolled through his phone. Never did Valentino ever think that a gold wedding band and his daughter on his lap would be his reality, especially inside this limo. 

Now that he thought about it, he should probably consider an upgrade. Or at least a deep clean. 

As the limo slowed down, she grew quiet. 

“Daddy? Will it hurt?” She asked as he took her hand. 

He smiled, “no, bebita. This is Daddy’s doctor too. I promise you you’re safe.”

The fact alone seemed to reassure her. As they went through the motions of the eye doctor, Valentino watched as his little girl seemed to struggle. His heart sank. He knew what the doctor would say before he said it. 

“Bebita, you can choose any frames you would like,” he said as cheerfully as he could once the doctor broke the news. “And if you can’t find one you like, Daddy will tell Uncle Vox to have them made. But choose one to take home today, okay?”

So she searched. Tried on frames. Valentino quietly set aside ones that might be more practical, and ones that fit her face well. She may not love them because of the color, but it would be good for her to have options. 

“Daddy, I want these!” she said suddenly, thrusting a pair of purple, heart shaped glasses into his hand. “Then I’ll look just like you!” 

He would be lying if he said his heart didn’t melt. 

“Then that’s what you’ll get,” he replied with a kiss on her head. He handed the frames to the doctor who sent them to the back to be put together with her prescription. 

Twenty seven minutes later they walked out, hand in hand, reader beaming in her new glasses. 

“Just like you, Daddy!” She said as she hugged his leg. 

He lifted her up and gave her a kiss on the forehead as he brought her into the limo. 

“Yes conejito, just like Daddy.”

As they pulled away, one final thought flitted through Valentino’s mind. 

Like father, like daughter. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything

[holnnetd]

Omg omg omg, how does Konig react when he sees a bunny hybrid in comparison???

Now that got me thinking.

How would König react to Hare!Reader next to a bunny hybrid?

(To be absolutely honest, I don't know. So this is badly written, sorry not sorry😊 please make specific requests or I will disappear for 5 months with no other idea about what to write 😞)

"Sht." He held his hand up to silence any noise you might have made. You both stood before the old, wooden door, his hand clutching onto the rifle, tightening his grip before checking the handle, confirming that the metal is twistable.

With a deafening silence, he pushed the handle and charged in, rifle at eye level, making sure no one was hidden in the room in the complete darkness. In case there stood someone with a knife, ready to plunge it into his very biteable neck. Good for him, no one threatening was there. You followed, covering his back in case of any surprise attack.

Not that you'd want him to stay unscarred, but your pay would be cut if he went and started complaining to the commander about you not doing your job "correctly".

...

A breathless whimper comes out from the dark corner and you avert your eyes to look at the source of fear. Ah. The hostage. God, the whole objective of this mission was a hostage rescue. Some rich assholes kid got taken as blackmail.

"Found the hostage." He murmured, talking into his radio. "The threat is neutralised. No known threats nearby." His voice rings out, ensuring we are safe for the time being. Really, it wasn't hard to find this hideout. The guys were just broke blokes, probably working for some mafia.

You glance at the not so kid like kid.

... That's a young adult, not that much of a kid.

It's a... ah... it's hard to pinpoint their gender.

The rich bastard said something about daughter and money. And some thing else, you are sure. But what it was? That's the better question.

König stares at the hybrid with light confusion. Ah yes, not only has he never met a bunny hybrid but he doesn't know what an androgynous person is.

Fucking old school. Keep up with the times my man. Its the 21st century, guys wear dresses and women peg their boyfriends with 10 inch straps. A girlish-boy or boyish-girl should be least of his concerns.

"Jesus." You huffed out, freeing your hands from any weapon and walked closer to the hostage. A rabbit hybrid. Short black ears, large beaded eyes and fairly frail with a decent amount of squish. That's a cute face though.

"Hello." You greet them, smiling. They seem to be quite confused, as one is. To be honest the kidnappers must have been so shit even their hostage wasn't scared, rather confused. "We're here to rescue." You add, glancing back at the overly silent behemoth behind you for confirmation.

He seems to be deep in thought, staring between the hostage and teammate. "... That's what?" He blurts out offhandedly, not knowing any manners.

"That's... the hostage. A person. Which is addressed by who, not what."

"Ah, yes, yes. Of course. I mean the breed." Bitch, really? Did wolfs raise you? Scratch that, even they have more respect.

"..."

It's still an ongoing discussion as to what hybrid types should be called. Breeds or races. It's... subjective, but damn... Read the room.

"They are a rabbit." You clarify. But he doesn't seem satisfied with that answer.

"...But you don't look the same." He retorts gruffly, GENUINELY confused why a rabbit isn't the same as a hare.

Of fucking course. He never learns, does he?

Ahem. Right. Lets pretend the hostage never saw the abuse you unleashed upon the huge man after that stupid comment.

"Can... can we go?" They ask slowly, staring at the huge man trying to shield himself from the fists flying his way.

"Ah, yes." He gruffs, feeling that the hits you laid on him might end up with a bruise on his already scarred skin.

"So, you two are related? Do your 'periods' sync up?" A humourless joke came out of his mouth and I'm pretty sure that might be the last joke he has ever voiced.

"Okay, now you crossed the line." Is all he hears before his nose was broken. Once more.

He has only himself to blame.

[rpgchoices]

More on Davrin's character (his beliefs about gods and elves) (part 3)

I promise I will stop at part 4! I just want to collect all the possible info before I actually start writing fanfics. Part 4 will be specifically for his romance, tho I already wrote a small meta about it here.

This part contains SPOILERS mainly from Solas' murales/memories.

Part 1 (Davrin and his Dalish clan) here Part 2 (Codex, Davrin naming Assan and his journal) here

In this part I wanted to talk about:

Davrin and the gods (Solas' murales) plus some contraddictions with "Vows and Vengeance"

A bit more about Davrin's vallaslin (90% sure it is Andruil's)

Davrin's feelings abour protecting other elves

Some extra from the artbook (his age, when he left his clan, his armor)

Davrin and the gods/believing Solas' memories

Transcription of the video: (first scene) Bellara: And the mages who declared themselves my gods. Well, mine and Davrin's. And Rook's. Rook: They're not gods at all, much less my gods. Davrin: I'm with Rook.

(second scene) Emmrich: This is astounding! The ancient elves were spirits who voluntarily manifested a physical form! Davrin: I'd rather go back to talking about the blight. Taash: Hey, Lucanis. Could Spire turn into an elf? Lucanis: No. Bellara: Sorry, but. What? Rook: Okay, no. This whole spirit thing is stupid, and I vote we ignore it. Davrin: Seconded.

(banter) Bellara: Elf came from spirits! Emmrich: An incredible revelation of what happened thousands of years ago! Bellara: I asked Davrin what he thought, and he just shrugged! Emmrich: Ah, he would! Bellara: Rook! Do you feel any different? Rook: As an elf? Should I? Bellara: More spirit-y, maybe? I don't know.

While sometimes it is frustrating to see characters and companions not reacting to the big lore revelations, I find it works pretty well with Davrin. He is clearly uninterested in Dalish gods, even if in Vows and Vengeance he uses "May Andruil guide you on your path", and he is uninterested in openly (with others at least) talk about his feelings on the main revelations. Elves are spirits? He shrugs it away or decides to ignore it (much more interested in how this will affect elves than anything else), the gods? Not his, not interested in them.

He even calls Solas "Baldy" and is not particularly intimidated by him or by the two remaining Evanuris (or respectful of them). (And we also know he does not believe the Fade is real, tho much of that Emmrich banter seem more like he is teasing him).

Another small element of his relationship with the gods is another Vows and Vengeance comment. Someone mentions Fen'harel doing a ritual, and Davrin reacts quite alarmed, asking where the other person heard that name. Does he actually believe in Fen'harel? Or is it simply the idea that someone would use the name of the trickster god?

EDIT: UPDATE! There is a dialogue between Neve and Davrin where Davrin confirms he never truly believed in the gods, he always thought they were a myth.

Neve: Does it bother you they're elven gods? Davrin: It won't help our reputation, that's for sure. Davrin: But me, I never gave our gods much thought. They were just a myth. Neve: Not anymore.

I also wanted to say - yes, I know some discrepancies are probably writing related. To me the most "out of narrative" explanation is that the Vows and Vengeance writers did not fully consult about his character with the game writers, and the game writers rushed through these revelation and did not allow for many reactions.

About Davrin's vallaslin

In a previous interview the answer was not given (it was treated like it was supposed to be a big spoiler), but in the game, as far as I can tell, we do not see any identification for Davrin's vallaslin.

I talked before (here in part 1) about why I think it is Andruil's (or a mix of Andruil and Ghil) and now I am even more certain it might be Andruil. Not only Davrin is the one who tells of the tale of Andruil during the Solas' memories event, but in Vow and Vengeance he gives Nadia a blessing from Andruil:

Nadia: My love. He waits for me Davrin: Then may Andruil guide you on your path.

This is of course a Davrin pre-Veilguard. In Vow and Vengeance he also is alarmed by hearing that the Dread Wolf is doing something. I am a bit confused by how much he actually believes in the gods, at this point!

Davrin and protecting elves

In general, Davrin seems the only character to mention elves discrimination, mainly through banter or some rare comment here and there. We also know he is the only elf who lived away from other Dalish elves (different from Bellara who seems still in contact with her clan and lives with a group that highly respects elves), and we know he described his impact with the outside world as "different" (from what he imagined, see part 1 here).

At the end of the game, you can also have a banter between him and Solas:

Video here.

Solas: You are Davrin of the Grey Wardens. And judging by your vallaslin, you are Dalish. Solas: I expect you have been urging the team not to trust the Dread Wolf, based on the stories you heard around the campfire in your youth. Davrin: What story should I tell? The one about the Dread Wolf creating the blight when he and Mythal slaughtered the Titans? Solas: Have you told the Dalish? Davrin: Why? So it can spread and make humans blame elves for even more things our ancient ancestors did? Davrin: Sharing that story would get a lot of people killed. Davrin: So the best thing I can do right now, as a Warden and a Dalish elf, is to stop the blight and clean your mess. Solas: Mala shivanas ar athim.

(the last seems to translate as "Your duty humbles me").

A similar sentiment is shared after the "elves were spirits" memory from Solas:

The main core reaction we get about the Solas' revelations are not inwardly focused (his own reaction to them) but focused outwards: towards other elves. It seems not to be as important that Solas made the Titans tranquil as much as the danger of humans to blame elves. He is not as interested in elves derived from spirits, as much as he is interested in bigoted humans starting to see all elves as demons.

I think it is also interesting that he only mentions "humans", even if the reactions regarding the Titans would probably come from dwarves, it is clearly humans that in the DA world oppress and discriminate elves.

More Davrin info from the Artbook

I also just wanted to add this for completion sake!

He's in his early 30s and left his dalish clan in his teens. Usually elves (from the codex compiled in the wiki page) get the vallaslin around 18 or younger, so it could overlap to being just before his departure if he got the vallaslin in his clan.

Also the artbook says he created his own armor from different pieces!

I love seeing the stitches in his main blue-like collar jacket, and you can see some wear and tear on the rest of his clothes, especially the waist piece!!

[tonihatessociety]

Things about the Hazbin Hotel cast, which fastinate me + my wonderful comments (Part 2)

Vox

He's just the biggest attention whore

A white man... what else would he be

He's just so obsessed with Alastor (i would say pathetic, but I am not the person who should judge him for that)

He can play video games on his screen

Vox likes to watch commercials

He had/has an on/off relationship with Val

Vizie says that if Vox was a music genre it would be dubstep

Velvette

Val calls her "Babydoll" (I would puke)

She and Vox are just tired of Val's whinning

She's just crazy (I think she's really reasonable for that considering the amount of time she has spend around Val)

She can cook

She is the only character I have seen so far to have "musical talent" listed as an ability

Valentino

He likes to abuse his employees and to sexually assult/harass people (what the actual...)

Val wears fishnets under his coat

There are so many words I have to describe Val "charming" is really not among them

He has been described as "a huge fuckboi" (i cannot)

He may has a cane collection

Val wants to visit the Lust ring (Oz would kill him)

He had a pet named Queef that he killed for annoying him (why am I even suprised anymore?)

Sir Pentious

Ah yes Sir Pentious greatest joys: Attempting to take over hell, causing chaos, imagining himself to be hip and tea

He hates Soda (?!)

He is in fact poisonous

He will have a crush on someone (I'm calling it now: Niffty and Sir Pentious)

He really just is the sick lonley victorian boy

He loves his eggs but still eats eggs

He's slimey

IMP actually has an eye on Sir Pentious (i love hellaverse crosovers)

[dragon-ascent]

The Prank

Rex Lapis thinks he's the subject of a prank. Centuries later, he learns the truth.

★彡use of 'wife' but gn reader, april fool's special except it's more heartwarming than funny

Rex Lapis is taking a stroll through the harbor when it happens.

A cloud of dust followed by a beam of light, and then he sees you running toward him almost at the speed of sound. At first, Rex Lapis is on his guard, but when he sees that you are weaponless and wear a huge grin on your face, his brow furrows.

You are dressed funny, your somewhat tight clothing a stark contrast to the loose hemp outfits the people of Liyue like to dress themselves in. A foreigner, perhaps? You don't look like you are from around here.

Coming to a stop mere inches from him, you gaze at him with the light of a million dancing stars in your eyes. Mirth, pure mirth at the sight of him. "Hi Zhongliiiiii!"

Rex Lapis turns around, assuming you must be talking to someone behind him, but notices how your ecstatic gaze is fixed on him alone. Who..?

"Oh, that's right! Silly me! You're Rex Lapis!"

"That I am," the archon affirms, relieved that he wasn't standing between you and someone he had failed to see. How embarrassing if that were the case. "Is there any way I may help...oh-!"

You're circling him, oohing and ahhing at everything about him - his attire, his horns, his tail, and you make a comment about his hairstyle and face remaining largely unchanged. He doesn't understand it, but this kind of attention on him makes him feel slightly...flustered.

"Oh my gosh, you are so cool!" you exclaim when you're done appraising him, bouncing on your heels excitedly. "I wanna put you in a jar and shake you around!"

Rex Lapis blinks, unsure how to respond. Finally, he says, "While I may be able to change my form at will to be able to fit in a jar, I doubt I would like being shaken around violently."

You giggle, and Rex Lapis feels slightly warm inside. Something tells him you should feel familiar to him, but his photographic memory tells no lies - he has never met you before.

"Well, that aside, do you want to know who I am~?" you ask, leaning close so that your face is a breath away from his. This proximity is ballsy on your part, but the archon, curiously, doesn't mind it one bit.

"I do, please enlighten me."

He didn't think your smile could get any wider, but he was wrong. You beam. "I'm your wife, silly!"

Wife..?

Rex Lapis opens and closes his mouth, wondering how on his green earth this could be. Clearly, you are mad. You are mistaking him for someone else, surely...but how many other Rex Lapises are out there?

He manages to form some words. "I...I am afraid I do not follow."

Laughter erupts from your lips. "It's quite simple really! You and I got married, so we are husband and wife!"

"I am aware that is how marriage functions," Rex Lapis says slowly, "but I do not recall ever binding myself to such an important contract with anyone, mortal or not."

You snort. "Well, like it or not, we do share a bed and live our lives together! And we are suuuuuper in love! You'll see! Bye, I love you!" And with that, you pat his butt and skip away.

He is still processing the fact that you patted his butt to notice that you've disappeared completely. Shaking his head, he assumes this is what mortals must call a 'prank,' one of their many ways of making merriment.

*****

Zhongli awakens from an unexpected nap one afternoon, and calls to memory that incident all those centuries ago... yes, something interesting had happened that day.

He looks down at you, his wife, sleeping so peacefully in his arms.

Smiling, he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

[upat4amwiththemoon]

Cheer you on

Summary: Even the cheerleader needs someone to cheer them on.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: Wanda is kind of mean, i don’t know how cheer or football works

Word count: 4213

a/n: how do you write enemies to lovers trope without instantly making them friends?? This was supposed to be a series, but that obviously didn’t work out

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

“Maximoff, stay behind after class, please.” Ms Harkness, the chemistry teacher, stops Wanda as she steps inside the classroom. “I have something important to ask you.”

“Yes, Ms Harkness.” Wanda gives her a quick smile, walking over to her desk and takes out her textbook. It wasn’t uncommon for teachers to have a chat with her after class, she is one of the top students after all and pretty much adored amongst all the teachers. Although, she can’t help but feel nervous whenever they do so.

The class goes by quickly, they all do. Wanda has always liked school. She likes to learn nee things and considers herself to be quite good at it. She wouldn’t say she wasn’t like everyone else. Sure, she has never been the most popular kid in school, but she is happy with the friends she has. Being Pietro’s sister, who is on the football team, gives her a lot of opportunities to go to parties. And sometimes Wanda does go, but it’s not her main form of having fun.

“Maximoff!” Ms Harkness’ voice snaps her out if her thoughts. “Were you listening?”

“I am so sorry, Miss, just got lost in my mind. Could you repeat what you said?”

“Would you mind tutoring a student in chemistry? She’s a little behind and failed the last course, so, I suggested getting a tutor and she agreed.”

“Of course! I’d love to help out.” Wanda assures, it’ll look great on her college applications. “Can I ask who am I tutoring?”

“Y/N L/N.” Wanda’s smile drops at the mention of the girl’s name. “You know her, correct? You two have had some classes together.”

“Ah, hm.” Wanda clears her throat. “I know her.”

“Great! That’s settled then, can you start today?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, I’ll let her know and you two can meet up at the library after school. Thank you, Wanda.” Ms Harkness nods in gratitude and goodbye before going back to her stack of papers to work on.

Wanda blows air out of her mouth, silently cursing to herself for accepting the task before knowing who needed tutoring. She didn’t per se, hate her, she’d rather call it heavily disliking her.

Y/N is a rather popular cheerleader, pretty much everyone around school knows her. And Wanda isn’t a fan of popular people, except her brother. They didn’t necessarily do anything bad to her, but she doesn’t like fake people and she is 100% sure all the popular students are fake. Y/N being the fakest of them all.

Every time Wanda walks past her in the hallways, she is smiling and laughing while greeting practically everyone. No one can be that…good.

Wanda groans, she only has two more classes before the tutoring starts. She tries to remind herself that it’s for her own good as she goes to her next class.

The library is silent, more silent than normal, it doesn’t have a big use on after school hours, which makes it one of Wanda’s favorite places to spend her time.

She taps her pen against the table as she waits for Y/N to arrive. She already has her chemistry books and notebooks ready, wanting to get this over as soon as possible.

Finally she hears a pair of boots enter the room. Sighing, Wanda sits up straighter just before Y/N walks over to the table. “Hi, Wanda!” She smiles brightly and sits opposite of her. “Sorry for being late, cheer practice ran a little long.”

“It’s okay.” Wanda mumbles. “Do you have your books?”

“Yeah.” Y/N takes out a few books, setting them to the table. “Thank you so much for agreeing to help me, I can’t afford to fail another class.”

“Maybe you should focus on them then.” Wanda comments, mostly to herself, not really intending for Y/N to hear, but she does.

“What?” Y/N giggles quietly, sounding quite uncomfortable. “I do focus, I’m just very busy.”

“Mhm.” Wanda opens her book. “Lets start from page ten. Which parts do you have problems with?”

“Uhm, I’m pretty aware of chapters from 11 to 16, others are mostly a blur.” Y/N

“Six chapters from a 25 chapter book?” Wanda cringes. “Can I ask you why did you take an advanced chemistry class if you weren’t going to put some effort to it?”

Y/N frowns, staring at Wanda. “If you don’t want to tutor me, you can say so.” She mumbles. Wanda sighs, rolling her eyes. “I only need a little help and if you aren’t willing to help me, I can find someone else.”

Wanda scoffs quite loudly. “I am very willing. I just don’t appreciate people who take partying and nonsense hobbies more seriously than studying. Advanced classes are hard to get into, if you weren’t going to actually do it, someone more deserving would’ve gotten the spot.” She throws her arms into the air as she ends her rant.

“Right.” Y/N whispers, closing her book. “I stayed behind because of personal emergencies. I was very unwell and couldn’t get out of bed in the mornings. Ms Harkness was understanding enough to give me an opportunity to retake the test and ask someone to tutor me.” She shoves the books to her bag. “But I suppose some people don’t have the same empathy skills as her.”

Wanda stares at Y/N wide eyed. “I-“

“I’ll tell Ms Harkness we had some schedule problems because of my nonsense hobbies and continuous partying, so you don’t have to continue tutoring me.” Y/N stands up. “Bye then, I guess.”

“Wait!” Wanda stands up, but Y/N takes her bag and walks out of the library, leaving very conflicted Wanda behind.

Wanda uses the fork on her hand to repeatedly stab the very dry looking food on the plate, leaning her head on her palm. After using all of her morning and afternoon breaks to look for Y/N with no luck, she decided to give up and head to the canteen to eat with Natasha.

“Wanda.” The redhead pushes her shoulder so she’d pay attention to her. “Where’s your mind at?”

“Y/N.” She mumbles quietly.

Natasha sighs. “Listen, yes, you were unfairly mean to her, but I doubt she’s mad at you. You just have to apologize.”

“I would if I could find her.” Wanda slams her fork to the tray. “And I’m not upset because I got her mad, I’m upset because she looked so hurt when she left.” She turns to face Natasha. “And I don’t want to be the reason why she didn’t come to school.”

“I know. If you want to, I can ask Yelena for her number so you could text her.”

“No! Absolutely not, I don’t want to be a creep.”

“You wouldn’t be a creep, it’s normal to ask for someone’s number.” Natasha shoves food inside her mouth. “Besides, she’s my sister.”

“I want to apologize face to face.” Wanda comments. “Anyways,” she changes the subject, “talking about your sister, she has been glaring at me the whole day.”

“She’s just very protective of her friends, no need to worry.”

“I feel like she’ll murder me when I’m the least prepared.”

Natasha snorts at the comment. Truth to be told, she wouldn’t be surprised if her sister decided to kill someone for disrespecting her loved ones. Yelena and Y/N have been best friends since diapers as they were born close to each other. Just like Wanda and Natasha, who were born a year before the two.

Wanda gasps. “There she is!” She whisper yells, nudging Natasha harshly. She points towards Y/N walking towards a full table of people in her cheer suit.

“Well, go on then.”

“She’s leaving.”

“I think she has cheer practice.” Natasha watches Y/N and Yelena walk outside together. “You should talk to her before it starts.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going.” Wanda stands up, jogging to the hallway after the two friends. “Y/N! Wait up.” Y/N and Yelena stop, turning around to see Wanda right behind them. “Can I talk to you? Alone?” She glances at Yelena.

“Uhh, sure.” Y/N smiles to Yelena who looks rather annoyed. “I’ll see you outside, don’t start practice without me.” Yelena nods as Y/N and Wanda walk inside an empty classroom. “What’s up?”

“I just really wanted to apologize, for yesterday. It wasn’t nice of me to assume why you failed the class or what you do on your free time.”

“It really wasn’t.” Y/N comments. “But it’s okay, I forgive you.”

“Great!” Wanda smiles widely. “So, we’ll continue the tutoring?”

“Ah, no. I already got Tony to help me.”

“Tony Stark?” Wanda frowns. Sure, Stark is smart, but nowhere near Wanda’s level. “Isn’t he like a really big douche.”

“Okay then.” Mumbling, Y/N purses her lips together. “Bye, Wanda.”

“No! Wait-“ Y/N ignores her calls after her and walks outside to her cheer practice. Wanda groans, dragging herself back to the table where Natasha is waiting for her. “Is Y/N friends with Tony Stark?”

“I think they’re like family friends.”

“Fuck.” Wanda slams her forehead to the table. “I just called him a douche in front of her.”

Natasha laughs. “You really just want her to hate you, huh?”

“Obviously not!” She doesn’t know why Y/N’s disappointed face is making her feel so bad, but she doesn’t like it at all. The feeling is gnawing her insides. “Do you think she’ll forgive me a second time?”

Natasha shrugs her shoulders, shoving food to her mouth. “I’m sure she isn’t that offended.”

“She looked like it.”

“Why do you care, Wanda?” Natasha furrows her brows together. She has never been one to worry about how others see her, so this kind of excessive overthinking was very unusual for her.

“I don’t want her to think badly of me.”

“But you can think badly about her.”

Wanda raises her head. “No! I don’t- it’s not like that.” Natasha stares at her with a questioning look. “I don’t think badly about her.”

“Within a day, you’ve entirely turned around what you think of her?” Wanda nods slowly, making Natasha sigh. “Did you ever even dislike her? It always seemed like you like liked her, but didn’t think she’d like you back.”

“What?” Wanda laughs. “No.” Natasha mumbles a quiet okay and goes back to her lunch, but Wanda continues staring at her, not getting the thought out of her head. She didn’t like Y/N. Sure, she doesn’t dislike her anymore, but she’d never like someone like her.

Right?

“What happened with Wanda Maximoff?” Yelena asks as Y/N is stretching and getting ready for cheer.

“She apologized and then she called Tony a douche.”

“Isn’t he?”

“I mean, yeah.” Y/N changes her position. “But it just made it look like she wasn’t really apologetic, you know.”

“Yea.” Yelena sits on the benches. She doesn’t cheer, but she’s always watching Y/N. She likes supporting her best friend, and they’re dorm mates, so they always walk back to their dorm together. “She’s weird.”

Humming, Y/N jogs small circles. “I don’t know. I think she just doesn’t like people. Or me, specifically.”

“The offer to beat her up still stands.”

“No, Lena.” Y/N giggles. “You aren’t beating anyone up, though I appreciate the offer.” Yelena mumbles something incoherent, she was really hoping to beat someone up. “You don’t have to wait for me every time, you know?”

“I know, but I want to. I like watching you cheer.”

Y/N grins at her. “You’re going soft.”

“Only for you.”

With a laugh, Y/N goes to the field as the captain arrives and calls them around her. They have been practicing a cheer routine for the football game for a while now, but it still needs time to be perfect.

Y/N, a flyer, gets ready to be lifted off the ground. Her hands are waiting steadily on two people’s shoulders. When the time comes, she jumps onto their hands and gets lifted to the air. There she does her tricks along with the other flyers of her group. At the final flip, one of the bases looses their footing, causing Y/N to come crashing to the ground.

The music stops and the group gathers around her. Yelena runs to her through the other cheerleaders, kneeling down next to her. “You okay? Where does it hurt?”

Y/N coughs, gathering the oxygen back to her lungs. She groans. “I’m fine.” Mumbling, she takes Yelena’s hand and gets up. Her leg is unable to take any weight and she’s leaning to Yelena heavily.

“I’m gonna take you to the nurse’s office.” Slowly but surely they make their way towards the office. Yelena is keeping her arm around Y/N’s waist, holding most of her weight so she wouldn’t have to use the hurt leg. “I’m gonna beat up the base.”

Y/N lets out an airy laugh. “It was an accident. These kind of things happen in cheer.”

“They shouldn’t happen to you.” Yelena mumbles as she knocks on the door. The two hobble in when the nurse comes to open the door.

Yelena helps Y/N to sit down. “What happened?” The nurse sits down to a chair of her own.

“Cheer accident.” Y/N moves her leg slightly, cringing at the pain shooting up her body. “My leg hurts a bit.”

“She can’t put any weight on it, and her back hurts.” Yelena comments. She’s standing right next to Y/N.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N lets the nurse examine her leg and back. Yelena has been overbearingly protective ever since they became friends, but Y/N is okay with that. That’s how she shows her love, by caring and protecting.

“It’s not broken, so that’s good.” The nurse writes something on the computer. “But you definitely can’t cheer for a while.”

“What? For how long?”

“Lets start with three to six weeks and see where we go from there.”

Y/N sighs, not happy with the news. The football game isn’t too far away, so she really needs to be practicing the routine for it. “I really can’t wait that long. Isn’t there any way we could speed the healing?”

“Not really.” The nurse sighs, taking out an ice pack and a pair of crutches. “Hold this to your leg. You two can go home.”

With a frown on her face, Y/N takes the ice pack and crutches, leaving the office with Yelena’s help.

The next day, to Y/N’s luck, Yelena became sick. Which meant walking, or limping would be more describing, through the school halls alone. Even though she has a lot of friends, she mostly spends her days with Yelena, that’s her best friend since diapers after all.

With a quiet grunt, she opens the cafeteria door, holding both of her crutches in one hand. After getting through them, she starts moving towards the line, trying to come up with a way how she’s going to carry her tray.

While waiting in line, she feels someone tap her shoulder. She turns around and sees Wanda. “What happened?” Wanda nods towards the crutches.

“Cheer accident.”

“Do you need help? Where’s Yelena? You could sit with me and Natasha if you want.”

Y/N’s eyes widen from the word vomit that just came out of Wanda’s mouth. It was almost too quick to understand. “Yelena is sick, so yes, I might need a bit of help.”

“Great,” Wanda steps next to Y/N in line. “I’ll help. I already got my food.” Y/N nods with a tight lipped smile. “I’m really sorry, again. For yesterday, saying Tony is a douche, I’m sure he actually isn’t.”

“Oh, he is.” Y/N comments and leaves it at that.

Wanda hums, staying quiet. Their turn comes quickly. Wanda picks up a tray, plate, glass and cutleries for Y/N, moving the tray as they do. She puts the food Y/N wants on the plate and fills the glass with water. After that, they start walking towards the table Natasha is sitting at. It’s quite slow, as Wanda follows Y/N’s speed.

“Hi.” Natasha grins at the two. “Did you get enough of cheering yet?”

“Of course not.” Y/N sits down carefully, setting the crutches to lay against an empty chair. “It’s still my biggest love.”

“Seems like a toxic relationship you two got going in.”

Y/N laughs. She’s fairly close with Natasha too, as she is Yelena’s sister and she has spent a great amount of time at their house. “I’m sure you already know Yelena is sick.”

“Oh, yeah.” Natasha scoffs with a shake of her head. “I have gotten so many whiny texts about it.”

Wanda tries to laugh along the two, feeling bit like an outsider at the moment. She wants to be closer to Y/N, though she isn’t sure where this sudden want came from. Or she just doesn’t want to accept it yet.

“Are you allowed to cheer at the football game?” She asks, wanting to be a part of the conversation.

“Uhm, I hope so. It depends on how fast I’ll heal.”

“Well, I really hope you get to cheer.” Wanda smiles widely.

Natasha smirks at the interaction. It’s so obvious to her, but she doesn’t want to pressure Wanda about anything she’s not ready to accept yet.

The conversation steers back to Natasha and Y/N talking about their shared things, while Wanda decides to spend the rest of lunch staring at Y/N.

After four weeks, Y/N can finally stop using the crutches and get back into practicing their cheer routine, which she needs to learn very quickly, as the big game is in a week. It’s Y/N’s school versus their biggest rival school. The schools have fought each other since the beginning of time, and they still haven’t quiet figured out which school is the best one. And neither one is happy with a tie, so they have to put their best game face on. And the pressure isn’t only on the football players, it’s also on the cheerleaders.

During those weeks, especially the time Yelena was sick, Y/N and Wanda grew closer. Wanda decided to throw out all of her previous impressions of Y/N and just get to know her, just like Natasha asked her to do many times before. She realized Y/N isn’t actually anything like she thought, which opened the feelings she had hidden a long time ago.

“Have you done this every night after you got your crutches taken off?” Wanda asks as she sits on the bleachers, watching Y/N practice the cheer routine on her own.

“Yes.” Y/N pants slightly. She has gone through the routine four times now. “I have to do it perfectly on the game night.”

Wanda rubs her hands together, starting to feel chilly. “I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“You don’t have to wait, you know? Even Yelena refuses to stay here so late.” She does a few tricks on the ground that she’s supposed to do in the air.

“I want to stay.”

A small smile grows on Y/N’s lips, but she hides it by continuing the routine. For a while, the music, coming from Y/N’s phone, for the routine is the only noise. No other student is out this late on school grounds, they’re either partying or in their dorms.

“Are you sure you aren’t getting too cold? You shouldn’t risk getting sick before the game.”

“I’m alright, Wanda.” Y/N takes a break, drinking some water. “I’m moving constantly.”

“Yeah, but when you move, you start to sweat and when you’re sweaty, you get cold easier.”

Giggling, Y/N drops the water bottle back to the ground, starting the music over again. “I know how it works, Wanda.” She goes back to her spot and starts the routine all over before Wanda can answer. “I’ll stop after this one.”

The routine is two minutes and 30 seconds long, but it feels shorter from both of their points of view. Y/N loves performing and Wanda likes to watch her perform.

Doing the final step, Wanda starts clapping at her. “Amazing!” She smiles, making Y/N laugh.

Y/N stops the music and picks up her things before walking over to Wanda. “Thanks for staying, you didn’t have to.” She starts shivering as the cold wind picks up.

“I told you, you would get cold.” Wanda mumbles, taking off of her jacket and putting it over Y/N’s shoulders, ignoring her protests. “I have a hoodie on, you have a small cheer uniform.” At the word small, Wanda’s eyes drop down to go over the whole outfit. Her cheeks flush the minute she realizes, but she lets out a breath of relief when she notices Y/N isn’t looking her way.

“Yeah, yeah.” They start walking towards the dorm buildings. Their dorms aren’t in the same building, but they’re close by, so it’s easy to walk there together.

“Hey, I’m glad you gave me a chance by the way.” Wanda huffs a breath of air out of her nose. “And I’m glad we’re friends now.”

“So am I.” Y/N bumps her side against Wanda’s, giving her a cheery smile.

The closer they get to their building, the more nervous Wanda gets. She waits until the moment they have to split up to speak up. “Would you, maybe, go out with me?”

“Like, on a date?” Y/N and Wanda stop walking.

“Yeah.”

Y/N gives her a small smile. “Ask me again after the game, yeah?” When Wanda nods, Y/N starts taking off the jacket, but Wanda stops her.

“Keep it until then.”

“Okay.” Y/N giggles, kisses Wanda’s cheek and starts walking towards her dorm building.

Y/N cheers the football team on with the other cheerleaders. They’re standing on the side, jumping up and down while waving their pom poms around. Half time is starting any second now, so her nerves are through the roof. She has performed in front of people many times before, but she has never been injured right before a show.

She glances at the clock. Three.. Two.. One. The loud buzzer sounds the half time is now. The group cheers loudly, getting the viewers spirits high, before running to the middle of the field. They go straight into formation, waiting for the music.

The music starts and they go straight into the routine. Y/N has a wide smile on her face as she get to occasionally glance the bleachers more clearly. If possible, her smiles widens even more when she hear and sees Wanda, Yelena and Natasha cheering her on.

She goes to her place, grabs the bases’ shoulders and gets into the air smoothly. Everything goes through perfectly and no one gets injured.

After the routine stops, Y/N runs back to the sidelines with a victorious smile on her face. She waves at her friends before turning back to supporting the football team on their second half of the game.

As the last seconds ti k away on the clock, everyone is on the edge of their seat. The score is tied, but there’s still time to score. One of the players on Y/N’s school is kicking the ball forward while running full speed ahead and trying to dodge the opponents.

Seeing there’s only under ten seconds left on the clock, the player kicks the ball with all their might and it goals just before the buzzer goes off. Everyone jumps up and shouts in happiness. Another win for their school.

Y/N runs towards Wanda, Yelena and Natasha, who already got away from the bleachers. None of them were really that interested in football, they mostly came to support Y/N. They cheer when they see her coming their way.

“Great job! You did so well!” Yelena yells as Y/N smashes herself into her.

“Thank you!” Her voice comes out muffled because of Yelena’s puffy jacket. “Thank you for coming, you guys.” She grins, hugging Natasha next.

“We wouldn’t have missed it.”

She laughs and turns to Wanda, hugging her just a bit longer than the other two. “Wait for me to get my things? Then we can leave.” Y/N runs off to get her bag and Wanda’s jacket, which she decides to put on. It is autumn after all.

The four of them start walking away from the celebration, they’ll have one of their own in a diner. Although, they will join the other students at a house party later in the evening.

Wanda grabs Y/N’s hand into her own as they’re walking towards the diner. She leans in closer. “Go out with me?” She whispers so the sister duo wouldn’t hear.

“Like a date?” Y/N asks with a grin.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll go out with you.”

Wanda’s cheeks turn red and her smile grows from the answer. “Thank you.” Y/N giggles at her shyness, leaning against Wanda’s side, she tunes into whatever conversation Yelena and Natasha are having, while Wanda continues smiling.

[anime-fan-05]

Hiii <3

Can you do a scenario of the Four Dragons, Hak, Yoon and Soo-won (separated) sleeping with a fem reader?

For the Dragons and Hak, Yona got sick and Yoon is taking care of her, so reader can't sleep with them in the tent and chooses one of the dragons or Hak to sleep with.

For Yoon, reader was one of Yona's handmaids and escaped with her from the palace. During the journey she fell ill, so Yoon has to stay in the tent with her to take care of her, and Yona sleeps with Hak.

For Soo-won, reader is Hak's younger sister and Yona and Soo-won's childhood friend. Since King Il was killed (she doesn't know it was Soo-won) and Yona and Hak ran away, she has struggled to sleep due to worry and nightmares, but one night a nightmare scared and traumatized her so much she can't sleep anymore, so she decides to sleep with Soo-won.

Sorry if it's confusing, it's the first time I've asked this request.

Akatsuki no Yona ~Sleeping together 1st part~

Manga/anime: Akatsuki no Yona

Warnings: nothing

(Y/N): your name

As usual, I divided the scenario into two parts: 2nd part is here.

"Kija, can't you sleep?" (Y/N) sleepily asks the man next to her.

"N-no. I'm sorry ohime-sama (princess), I'm just worrying you." The girl turns to the Dragon and she finds him shaking and flushed.

"Is it because of me?" The princess asks worriedly, all her sleep seems to vanish.

"N-no!" Kija screams, maybe a little too loudly.

"It's just that -he continues- I-I've never slept with anyone before and-and... I feel a strange feeling in my heart."

"If I make you uncomfortable, then I'd rather sleep with someone else..." (Y/N) says sadly, worried about how the Dragon feels. However, she really wanted to be close to him.

The girl is about to get up, but Kija gently takes her hand and brings her back to lie next to him (keeping a distance, of course).

"N-no, stay here, ohime-sama. Y-your presence doesn't make me uncomfortable at all." It's clearly a lie, but the fact the man wants to be with her so much he doesn't sleep at night due to nervousness makes (Y/N) very happy and makes her feel the wonderful feeling of being appreciated and loved.

"Alright then." The princess approaches Kija slightly and takes his right hand (the dragon's hand).

"Thank you, Kija, -she leans over and kisses the Dragon on the cheek- and good night."

Meanwhile, our dear Hakuryuu (White Dragon) has fainted from nervousness.

"Your fur is so warm and soft, Shin-Ah!" (Y/N) comments happily to Shin-Ah, who gave her the fur stuck to his mask to keep her sleeping comfortably and warmly.

"But you should come a little closer. Aren't you cold?" The girl pulls the Dragon's arm slightly to ensure he's also covered by that improvised blanket. So, Shin-Ah gets a little closer and the princess notices he hasn't taken off his mask.

Typically, the boy always takes it off before going to sleep, so (Y/N) worries: she thinks he hasn't taken it off yet for fear of accidentally paralyzing her. This makes her happy, but also sad: she's so happy Shin-Ah cares about her well-being, but she's sad, because she knows this behavior is due to trauma.

"Shin-Ah, doesn't the mask bother you to sleep? Do you want to take it off?" The Dragon immediately shakes his head.

"Don't worry, I won't look you in the eyes." The girl closes her eyes. After a few seconds, she hears the boy move to take off his mask.

After making sure Shin-Ah has taken it off, the princess moves closer to him until they are both covered in the fur, taking his face in her hands and stroking it gently, making him blush.

"Good night, Shin-Ah." (Y/N) whispers, with her eyes still closed.

"Good night..."

"Jae-Ha! You're too close!" (Y/N) exclaims, annoyed Jae-Ha is so close to her.

"Hmmm? (Y/N)-chan, don't you want to sleep in a comfortable, warm position?"

The princess is curled up against the man, her arms resting against his chest and her head in the crook of his neck; the Dragon lies on his side with his long arms and legs wrapped around the girl.

"Yes but..."

"But?" Jae-Ha urges (Y/N).

"This position is so embarrassing!" The girl admits, pushing her face into the man's chest, to keep him from seeing her flushed face.

"I don't think you don't like it, you're holding me so tight. You're really cute and hot, dear."

"Jae-Ha!" The princess screams in embarrassment.

"Please -she adds- don't make fun of me."

How could she fall in love with him? How? (Y/N) is been asking herself this question since they met, but there are no answers to some questions...

"Whatever, (Y/N)-chan. Anyway, I wasn't teasing you."

"Jae-Ha..." The girl whispers, struck by Jae-Ha's words.

"You're really hot."

"JAE-HA!!!"

How the hell did she come up with the idea of sleeping with this pervert?

"Zeno..."

"Yes, missy?"

"You're holding me too tight!" (Y/N) complains against Zeno.

They're in a really nice position: the boy is lying on his back with his arms wrapped around the princess' waist; the girl has her head and hands on the Dragon's chest. There would be nothing wrong with this position, except that Zeno is, unknowingly, squeezing (Y/N) to death.

"It doesn't seem to Zeno that Zeno is holding the missy too tightly. Zeno must stay close to the missy, otherwise Zeno won't be able to protect her." The boy says innocently, making the girl blush violently.

"You're so cute, Zeno." The princess whispers, burying her face in the crook of the Dragon's neck.

"The missy is cute too!"

Zeno will truly be her death for his cuteness, (Y/N) thinks.

"But can I know why you're always so close to me? N-not that it bothers me or anything, I just want to know..."

"The missy reminds Zeno of his wife, so Zeno wants to be close to the missy and protect her. Zeno loves the missy!"

If (Y/N) was a little red before, now she's a perfect tomato.

"I love you too, Zeno. Thank you... for taking care of me."

"You're welcome missy!"

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

[bungeepuppet]

Prompt: Hisoka is reminded of his mother. Rating: 15+ Words: 600 Note:  A drabble I should have posted on Mother's Day!

**Warnings for mentions of child neglect and allusions of human trafficking 💀

--

Hisoka's eyes are staring at something. It is a sliced baguette resting in a basket, cradled in white cloth. His stare is intense.

In his memories, he can see a woman’s hand gripping onto a loaf of bread desperately. He remembers being hungry, but knowing that not a bit of that bread would be for him.

Hisoka is sitting at a table with Illumi in a very expensive restaurant. The restaurant is at the top level of a skyscraper, and has a sweeping city view.

Illumi is talking about nothing in particular, and hasn’t noticed Hisoka’s lack of engagement. Hisoka realizes that he zoned out, lost in a very old memory. It is such a disgusting feeling to him.

“Illumi.”

Illumi pops another bite of his dinner into his mouth.

“Hm?”

“...♠”

Hisoka glances at the bread again before looking back to his date.

“How much are you worth to your parents, do you think?”

Illumi tilts his head at the odd question, but gives it some genuine thought. He rests a knuckle to his chin while he chews. After a moment of contemplating, he finally answers.

“I can’t give any exact amount, but by quick estimate, my services to the family can range from anywhere to the hundreds of billions to tens of trillions of jenny annually.” 

Despite his curtled mood, Hisoka’s nose still crinkles to crush a smile off his lips. Illumi was always so literate.

“That’s not exactly what I meant. ♠” “I mean…” “When you were born, what was your value to your parents? ♣” “How much would someone have had to offer in exchange for you?”

Illumi is confused by the string of questions, but is intrigued nonetheless.

“What reason would they have to sell their child?”

Hisoka can feel his chest chill, as if icy tar is dripping inside him.

“What if your mother was hungry? If she had no money?” “You don’t think under dire circumstances, that she would trade you for a fortune?”

“Hmm…” “My mother?”

Illumi thinks specifically about her.

“No. I don’t believe that she would need to in order to afford food or anything else.”

“Why’s that? ♠”

“Well…” “She is an assassin too, of course.” “If in a situation where she had no assets or resources, and I was an infant, she would easily be able to work a job in order to afford what she needed.”

“Ah, I see.”

Hisoka takes a sip from his drink. He can see her dirty nails clutching the small stack of jenny tight with joy. There is a feeling on his arm; the tight grip of someone’s hand, much larger than his. Tugging him. Tugging him away from her. 

There was so much distress, trying to free himself and return to her. Did she even look up at him again after they gave her the money?

“So, your mother would rather murder someone else than lose her child?”

“Of course.”

Illumi answers like it is so trivial. Hisoka should have expected that of someone with an assassin’s mindset, but still…

“...”

He takes another drink, then picks up a slice of the baguette to butter. He casually takes a bite and drops the memory back into the well it came from.

“You have a good mother. ♠”

Illumi smiles slightly at the comment.

“Yes.”

Illumi continues to talk, this time about random insights regarding his family.

(“My mother worked as an assassin even before she met my father. She is just as skilled as he is, but prefers to watch over my younger brothers now…”)