#cheers to a new year! going into it with good feelings

[aesthetic-rxssxs]

Universe: Haikyuu Troupe: Academic Rivals 2nd Person Of View Warnings: Smut Words: 6556

"Short Skirt And An Even Shorter Fuse."

Tsukishima and you. The top of your classes and constantly fighting for the title of number one. He was older by one year, but you were in the same grade being that you had skipped a grade.

What you had thought was going to be a smooth and drama-free High School life, turned into more.

From snide remarks and jabs between you two, there was no room for smooth or drama-free. Pretty much the opposite if we're honest.

It got to the point where you'd deliberately cheer for everybody but Tsukishima on the Volleyball team at their games. Making sure to flip him off or stick your tongue out childishly.

Tsukishima would return it with a scowl or a roll of his eyes. He always prided himself on being good at things without trying. So, there was no way in hell he'd try now just to prove he was good to a nameless nobody he didn't even know that well. Right...?

Wrong. He did. Despite his best efforts to not let you get to him, you always managed to. It was to the point where even his team noticed.

Coach Ukai even provided you with snacks from his convenience store just so you could motivate him to stop being so half-assed. And who were you to deny free food?

One day, you decided to take a new approach and instead cheer for the opposing team. Now, that got Tsukishima's attention.

That day, he had put in more effort than he had before. It surprised everyone. Even you.

They had won by a landslide and you'd think he'd be all smug—but no. He surprised everyone once again by storming off the second the whistle blew. Grappling onto your arm and dragging you out.

He took you to the girl's locker room and shoved you against the wall. His arms were on either side of your head while his eyes were as intense as you'd ever seen them. "What the hell was that?"

"Huh? What the hell was what?" You shook off the initial surprise with a scoff and crossed your arms defensively.

"Don't bullshit me. Why were you cheering for them?" He narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw ticked with tension.

"Because I wanted to. Why else?" You snarked back, clearly annoyed with his new way of annoying you—asking too many questions.

"No, you did it to piss me off. Well, guess what? Congratulations. You've officially pissed me off," He leaned down, his tall stature never intimidating before, suddenly switched to down-right terrifying at this moment.

"So what if I did?" You narrowed your eyes back at him, creating a false face of annoyance and nonchalance.

"So? So?" He scoffed in disbelief. "So, it pissed me the fuck off and now you have to deal with the consequences.��

"Consequences?" You swallowed nervously. Not once had he shown this type of behavior to you. It was new and oddly attractive.

"Yup. Consequences." He breathed against your neck as he leaned his forehead right next to you against the wall. His hands clenched against the wall before his head tilted slightly to glance at you.

Your breath hitched and he was too far gone to mock you. Too tempted to waste time. Instead, he gripped the back of your neck and tugged you in for a rough kiss.

His other hand gripped your hip, tugging you closer as he kissed you eagerly. You were too shocked to do anything but melt into the kiss. Kissing back, you parted your lips.

That was all it took for him to strip off your shirt and tug you over to the showers, stripping his own clothes as he did.

Everything was a blur after that. From the last piece of clothing shed to the squeak of the shower's knob as it turned on, surrounding you with warm water, and to the sounds of skin on skin and the panting noises that came along with it.

Your back against the cold wall as Tsukishima held you up, panting and grunting in your ear as he rolled his hips. His arms tightened around your lower back as he held you up.

The feeling of his dick running along your walls as he fucked out all of the tension and unresolved feelings you two had over the past year, to the feeling of his lips and hands all over your body.

That was the start. The start of your hookups. The random texts and the blissful feelings ignited.

So, as you're at a party, in some skimpy short skirt your friend made you wear, Tsukishima couldn't stop checking you out.

He wasn't the only one, and that knowledge only made his jaw clench and a feeling enter the pit of his stomach. A feeling that can only be described as one thing—jealousy.

His eyes trailed over your body, noting everything on display. From your tits to the pretty pink panties that peeked out every time you bent over to pick up a drink.

You had always been one to be on the less social side. So, seeing you in an outfit like this was a surprise. One he didn't think he'd find himself loving and hating at the same time.

He could already picture it. Him, bending you over against some random piece of furniture in some random room as he slips your panties down your legs before he thrusts into you in one swift motion when he finally gets to tug down his boxers and pants.

Making sure to keep your skirt on so he can mock and tease you for it. Calling it 'a perfect slut's invitation'. He would pick up your panties and dangle them in front of your face, not moving an inch as he does.

Adding that he'll but your next pair with his name embroidered onto it for good measure. To make sure his perfect slut stays his perfect slut.

He could already feel the possessive need to drag you out of the center of the party and up into a random room upstairs to play out his fantasies.

The need trickled up his body until his feet started to move on their own.

In one swift motion, he gripped your arm—just like he did the first day your hookups first started—and dragged you upstairs without a care of who might've saw.

He slammed the door shut and locked it, picking you up under your armpits before throwing you onto the bed.

He crawled over you, trailing his hand down your waist. He reached your skirt and snapped the waistband of it, causing you to gasp and bite your lip.

He clicked his tongue at the movement and tugged your lip down. "Now what did I say about biting that pretty lip, hm?"

Your face flushed at his taunting before you reluctantly recited the words he'd basically engrained in your mind. "That it's your job..."

He smirked smugly, running his hand up and down your waist approvingly. "That's right. And why do you think I brought you up here?"

"Uh, I don't know," You mumbled, forcing yourself not to bite your lip. No matter how tempting it was.

He scoffed, squeezing your thigh as his hand trailed up, hitching it onto his waist, "Don't play coy with me, slut. We both know this skirt is so short you flash your ass by bending over."

He let out a harsh chuckle, "I should know. I saw those pretty pink panties you love so much the second you reached down for a beer."

Your lips parted in shock, your face flushed and your hands gripping the hem of your skirt tightly, willing them to magically grow longer in size.

"Trying to catch someone's attention?" He taunted as he slipped his hand up your thigh slowly, dangerously close to slipping up under your skirt.

You shook your head immediately, "N-no."

"Then why wear this, huh?" He leaned down to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He closed his eyes, inhaling that sweet perfume you always wore.

The same one that now stains his sheets for days on end every time you come over.

"My friends made me..." You responded, gulping. You tried not to let his closeness affect you but it never really works in the end.

"Do you always listen to your friends?" He kissed along your neck, nipping every now and then. "Would you jump off of a cliff if they told you to?"

"No," You scoff out in disbelief to which he leans back and grips your jaw. "Watch your tone, sweetheart. I'm not the one flashing everyone, now am I?"

You pout, annoyed. But then you feel a striking sensation between your legs at the implication that he's jealous. And not just jealous, but possessive too.

"Not denying it, huh?" He chuckled and teased your nipples through your shirt. The movement was easy due to you not wearing a bra.

You gasped at the sensation, your head dizzy with pleasure. Your mind already turning to mush as you whimpered out, "Please don't stop, Tsuki..."

He smirked and stopped his movements. "What was that?"

Your lips formed into another pout, knowing he wouldn't continue until you stroked his ego with some begging. "Please, keep touching me..."

He hummed in acknowledgment, thumb rubbing against your ribcage, "Keep touching you where?"

"My breasts," You admitted, finding yourself still able to blush. Even after the many nights you've spent tangled in each other's sheets.

"Good girl," He purred out before tugging your shirt up, kissing up your stomach, leaving your breathing growing in huffs. He reached your breasts and sucked hickeys along them, marking you as his.

He relished in every moan and whimper you let out. Loving the way you gripped his hair when he swirled his tongue around your nipples.

"Of course you'd love some attention to your breasts, you slut," He chuckled and suckled around the perked bud. When he glanced up and saw you about to retort, he used his free hand to tweak your other nipple.

As he saw your lips part and your eyes squeezed shut, he knew his mission succeeded. A prominent smirk settled on his lips as he had gotten what he wanted. Your compliance.

No matter how many times you'd told yourself you'd never let anyone degrade you, he made it seem so enticing. Much to the point you ended up looking forward to it with every interaction you two had.

Even now as he degraded every little response you had to his teasing touches, it couldn't help but make you throb even more.

"That's a good girl," He cooed as he trailed his hands down your waist, caressing every part of you he could. His hands trail down to your hips, caressing them as he practically makes out with your breasts.

Your leg shifts to rest on his back, leg curving to rest your foot on his back where you rub up and down in appreciation to his attention.

He smirks, moving his hand up and under your skirt, teasing the waistband, and pecking your breasts before he kisses down.

He moves your leg up on his shoulder the lower he gets, kissing all the way down to your waistband. "Well if it isn't the one thing that had me throbbing this whole damn party..."

He lets out a husked chuckle when your breath hitches, trailing his finger along the waistband. "How cute."

You whine out, "Stop being so mean..."

"Mean? Mean?" He laughs in disbelief before he pinches the fabric, "Now, these are mean. Making me wanna tilt it up and fuck you in front of everyone. You're playing coy, sweetheart."

"I'm not playing anything," You whined out in protest before he tugged and let go, causing it to snap against your skin.

He grins up at you in a way that makes you think he'd be the perfect Cheshire cat in a play. "Oh, come on. I know you enjoy a little pain. You're my precious little masochist."

You huff, cheeks flushing as your whole body feels hot. You wish you could protest, but you knew it'd be futile. Let's face it, you are his little masochist.

"Ah, so you don't deny it, huh?" He moves his hands down and lifts your skirt up. "I knew my girl wouldn't."

His girl. Something he found himself saying more frequently. He couldn't help it. Especially when you give the best reactions. Like now, for example.

You were tilting your head back, swollen lips parted into a moan as he bit your thigh to emphasize your arousal to pain.

It worked perfectly, he had the perfect view of your panties and watched as a wet patch started to form. He grinned devilishly before he leaned down and poked his nose into your panties.

He relished in your surprised yelp, hips trying to move away but stopped by his nails digging into your thighs, pulling you back.

"Not so fast, pretty girl."

You swallowed hard, hands clenched together at your sides as he grinned, lips brushing against the fabric as he did. Which only serves to make your body tingle with pleasure.

He gave a nice open-mouthed kiss right on top of the wet patch, making your heart race.

"T-Tsukishima?" You trailed off before you yelped. His teeth nipped at your panties, slowly tugging them off, hands trailing up to follow the movements of your panties before he threw them to the side.

"H-hey!" You protested before he pinched your thigh, making you wince and instinctively look down.

"Don't worry, honey. I'll buy you a new pair." He rubbed your thigh before casually adding, "With my name embroidered onto them."

Your eyes widened in surprise but before you could ask him to explain further, his mouth is on your clit as a distraction. That instantly makes your brows tug together and your eyes roll back in a strung-out moan.

He nibbles gently, making your moan grow in pitch. He pulls back and kisses your swollen clit sweetly, looking up at you with a knowing smirk.

Your face is flushed and your eyes are half-lidded as you look down at him with a half-assed glare. Lips forming into a pout, "No fair..."

He chuckles, "Are you seriously complaining right now, sweetheart?"

You shake your head reluctantly and he takes that as a no. His hand rubs your thighs up and down, loving the sight of you laid out with your legs on his shoulders.

He makes a point to kiss up your thighs until he reaches where you want him most. He looks up and you nod in encouragement.

He dives in, licking a nice long stripe up along your slit, ripping another moan out of you. He continues, this time flattening his tongue and trailing his tongue up, making you shudder.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to control your noises but find that entirely impossible once he slips a finger in.

You choke on a gasp and your gummy walls clamp down on his finger in reaction. He hums in satisfaction and wraps his lips around your clit, suckling.

You whimper, legs trying to clamp around him but failing when he pinched your thigh with his free hand, making you stop.

You gulp when he slips another finger in, pumping them in and out before he pulls off your clit and pecks it. “You’re making such sweet noises for me.”

You whimper, the compliment making you blush even more.

“Please, Tsukishima…” You gasped, trying to think about anything but his relentless movements with his fingers. “I-I can’t—”

“Can’t what?” He taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance and confidence. He didn’t stop moving, finger-fucking you steadily while gently sucking on your swollen clit, making you writhe helplessly beneath him. “Can’t take it? Or can’t handle the fact that I’m the one making you feel this way?"

You swallowed, trying to find the right words but failing as your mind grows blank the more he touches you.

“How cute,” He cooed, borderlining on mocking. “You can’t even speak properly anymore. Just a pretty little mess for me, huh?”

“God, yes—just like that," You whined, not even hearing his previous comment when his fingers curled to hit that spongey spot that made your mind go blank.

“Look at you. So small, so needy. I could ruin you, you know. Make you want it so bad you wouldn’t know how to function without my fingers inside you.”

“Please,” You whimpered again, desperation creeping up to an almost embarrassing point. “I’m so close...”

“Close to what?” he challenged playfully, pulling his fingers out for just a second before plunging them right back in, mixing pleasure with just the right amount of edge.

“Tsuki!” You choked on a moan, trying to keep your dignity but finding it hard when he was teetering you to the edge of bliss. “Stop—stop teasing me!”

A devilish smirk crossed his lips, one you saw him make plenty of times in situations like this, “What’s the fun in making it easy for you?”

“I… I—” You stuttered, mind foggy from the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and his relentless teasing. You clutched the sheets, knuckles white as you tried to ground yourself.

“That’s it, let go for me,” He encouraged, suckling harder on your clit. With a gasp, you felt the tension snap, and your entire body tensed up as pleasure surged through you.

“Good girl,” He murmured

“See,” He whispered with a teasing tone, licking his lips. “I told you I could ruin you, and no one else would even come close.”

“You’re insufferable.” You grumble out, not able to refute his evident-backed statement. You sat up on your elbows, looking down at him. The lower half of his face is glistening and it makes you flush.

He smirks at your comment, knowing it's a weak attempt to get back at him for his arrogant remarks. "You're just realizing that now?" He teases, his voice low and husky as he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, making you whimper at the loss.

He smirks at your reaction, loving the flustered expression that overtakes you. He crawls up over you until he's face-to-face with you. His face with a mischievous grin, bordering on a smirk.

"Look at that face... completely spent from just my fingers." The arrogant smirk still plays on his lips as he brings his fingers to his mouth, slowly sucking them clean.

"I bet you'd say anything right now just to have something else inside you." His voice drops further, becoming almost seductive.

You swallowed. He leans down and nuzzles his glistening nose against yours, face tilted in a way that lets him kiss the corner of your mouth.

"Would you rather my tongue? Or maybe..." He pauses, intentionally teasing you further. "...my cock? You're dripping wet and whimpering my name so nicely, maybe you're not so proud anymore, hmm?"

His dark eyes fixate on you with a mix of satisfaction and further intent. It was a look that you see just before he decides to fuck you.

"I can see it in your eyes, you want me to fuck you senseless. Beg for it." He commands, voice low and demanding.

He leans down, lips brushing against your ear. "Beg me to fill you up and I'll give you exactly what you need."

"God..." You moaned softly, your hips bucking slightly as you try to get friction anywhere. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment and lust as you swallow thickly.

"Please..." You whimper, almost inaudible. You try again, louder this time, "Tsukishima..."

A smug grin spreads across his face, satisfied with himself for breaking your determination so easily. He leans down, catching your bottom lip between his teeth.

"See? I knew you could beg properly when you wanted something bad enough." His hand slipped between your thighs again, thumb brushing against your soaked folds.

"You want this?" He asks mockingly, moving his finger up slowly to brush feather-light over your clit.

"You want me to fill you up and make you forget everything else?" He adds, adding pressure. He can feel the way your breath quickens, hips slightly rocking as soft moans spill out of your swollen lips.

You choke on a gasp, nodding. His eyes boring into your foggy ones, eyes welling up.

He chuckles darkly, amused by your desperate attempts to draw him closer. With a swift movement, he removes his fingers, leaving you aching and whimpering.

"Greedy girl," He murmurs against your lips, reaching down to his belt, and unbuckling it. He licks his lips, the movement making you feel the whisper of his tongue grazing your lips.

Once he unlatches the metal, he unbuttons and drags the zipper down his pants. He tugs his boxers off just enough for his erection to slap against his abdomen.

He laughs at the way your mouth grows slack-jawed. He always loved the way your face morphed when you see his cock.

He tilts your head and gives you a quick slow kiss, body arching slightly as his erection squeezes in between your bodies. The feeling of him pressed against you making you moan into the kiss.

He pulled back, pecking your lips before he spoke. "Last chance to beg, princess. Should I fuck you or leave you like this? I think you deserve it for wearing such a short skirt."

His self-control is barely hanging on as he rests his forehead against yours, breathing heavily from anticipation. "Because I don't know if I can wait for you to answer, baby..."

His hips nudge forward slightly, letting you feel his thickness and the cool metal of his belt against your thigh. He grins when he hears your breath hitch, your body shuddering at the contrast of the cool metal to your heated body.

A smug grin plays on his lips as he teases you, pressing just the tip of his cock against your entrance without actually entering.

"You're so fucking wet, I could slide in so easily... Should I?" He leans down, catching your lip between his teeth again.

"Please...?" You whimper as you swallow down your pride, clit pulsing as he teases you. His self-control snaps at the desperate plea you made against his lips, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides himself inside you slowly.

"Oh fuck..." He whispers, voice thick with pleasure as he stretches you. "You were right to beg, baby..."

He begins to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm, making your body arch. His hand finds your breast, squeezing and kneading it as he picks up the pace.

"You feel so fucking good," He groans, burying his face in your neck, breathing ragged. "I could fuck you all night..."

He pulls out of you suddenly, his cock slick with your juices, making you whine out in protest. He stands up, towering over you as he grips your ankle and drags you to the edge of the bed.

"On your knees, princess. You know how I like it," He orders, his voice cold and commanding. "I'm not done with you yet."

You quickly get on your knees on the bed, your ass high in the air, waiting. Your cheeks are flushed, your hair disheveled, and you're covered in a thin a layer of sweat.

He takes one look at you and almost looses control again. He spreads your thighs wider with his hands. "Atta' girl."

"God damn..." He mutters, watching your soaking wet pussy spread open for him. He spreads your cheeks further apart, lining his tip against your entrance again, and pushes in hard and deep, making you cry out and grip the sheets tightly.

He finds your hips again, his thumb spreading you wider while you can do nothing but moan and whimper.

"Fuck, you're taking me so well... such a good girl, aren't you?” He increases his pace, each thrust hitting deeper, slapping against your ass. You choke on a moan, clenching with every thrust.

One hand moves to grab your hair, tilting your head back and making you arch. "Who owns this perfect little pussy? Who fucks it every other day and eats it out the other days, hm?"

"Y-you..." You gurgled out, drool pooling in your mouth before it spilled onto the poor unsuspecting host's sheets.

"Fucking right it's me." He snarls possessively, his hips snapping forward and back, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

His other hand moves to play with your clit, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. You squeal, the harsh treatment making you squirm and writhe in pleasure. "F-fuck...Tsuki..."

He chuckles darkly at your desperate cries, feeling the smug satisfaction of owning your pleasure so completely.

"Ngh," He slurred slightly. "Scream my fucking name then," He demands, rubbing your clit faster, harder. Aiming to drive you wild.

"Let everyone at this stupid party fucking hear who wrecks this tight cunt. My cunt."

His cunt. And there's no way you'd ever deny him that. Not when he fucks you so good you forget until the beautiful aching settles in your foggy brain when you wake up the next morning.

You whimper and grab the sheets as each thrust makes your body coil forward. Your breathing heavy, panting like a dog.

He grins wickedly and leans down over you, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as his hips slam forward in rapid succession, his thick length massaging that perfect spot inside you.

His actions only serve to make you cry out louder, moans and whimpers impossible to hold back. His fingers are a blur on your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. "Come on, princess."

You gasp out desperately, shaking your head as you croak out, "S' too much... always too much..." You whine, body shaking with pleasure as his hips never falter.

"Too much of what?" He growls, breathing ragged. His smirk is present as his warm breath washes over your shoulder. He continues to pound into you mercilessly, his fingers working your swollen bud furiously.

"Too much of my thick cock stretching you out?" He chuckles cruelly, punctuating each question with a hard thrust. Making you thrust forward with his harsh thrusts, whimpering and puffing out breaths.

You claw at the sheets, the pool of drool underneath your mouth making the experience all the more surreal.

His free hand wraps around your throat from behind, tilting your head back further as he continues his brutal pace. He wipes the drool off the corner of your lips.

"Answer me, princess. Is this cock too much for your needy little cunt?" His fingers move faster on your clit, bringing you dangerously close to orgasm.

You can't form words, too choked up on your sobs and hiccups to properly respond. Moans and whimpers are the only things you're able to make.

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip around your throat slightly, silencing your desperate noises.

"I'll take that as a yes," He chuckles darkly, his relentless pace making the bed creak ominously. The squelching noises of you sucking him in on par.

You mewl, arching as he hits that spot inside that makes everything not register. Nothing but the overwhelming pleasure that makes your body tingle.

He lets out a satisfied grunt, feeling your inner walls start to convulse around his length. "Fuck… you’re so fucking tight," He groans his fingers moving in frantic circles on your clit as he chokes you gently.

"You think I can make you cum harder than all those other times I've fucked you nice and snug?" He chuckles tauntingly, kissing your temple.

You gasp and lean into his touches, body lolling back and slacking as you clench uncontrollably, body on the verge of euphoria. Moans and desperate pleas coming out in croaks.

He smirks in satisfaction as he feels your walls flutter desperately around his throbbing cock. His fingers continue their relentless assault on your clit, your orgasm hovering tantalizingly close.

"That's it, clench tighter for me, princess. Milk my cock like you've never had anything better. Which we both know you haven't..." He teases, nibbling on the shell of your ear.

You whimper and clench, clit pulsing beneath his skilled fingers, body aching and sweaty as it takes every punishing thrust of his.

He watches your body writhe and tense, your moans getting louder and more desperate. His teeth sink into your neck possesively, making you yelp.

"You know what would make this even better?" He rasps darkly into your ear, and his finger moves faster, pressing down harder on your little bud.

You pant, gulping before you manage to respond. Croaking out a small, "What?"

"If I wrapped my arms around your waist, and pulled you even closer, making it hurt a little more but feel even better," He growls, his powerful arms wrapping around your midsection.

He pulls you back, his chest to your back so that his mushroom-shaped tip hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

You whine and convulse, your body shuddering at the feeling of his arm squeezing you. The pressure makes you feel his cock pound into you even more. You croak, "F-fuck...!"

"That's right, princess. Take my cock like a good slut. You're squeezing me so perfectly I might actually cum before you," He punctuates each word with another brutal thrust.

He maintains his punishing pace against that sensitive spot deep inside you, panting, "Or maybe I'll just edge you..."

“Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki, Tsuki...!" You let out a dragged-out moan in a mantra. Pleading for him to continue or to stop, you don't know. All you know is that he's fucking your gummy walls just right.

Groaning in arousal at your desperate moan of his name, he leans in to nip sharply at your ear.

"Fuck, you sound so pretty begging for me," He rasps, his hips maintaining that brutal pace. The wet sounds of flesh smacking against flesh fill the air.

"Can...can't take it, Kei, baby..." You sniffled, chirping out a whimper. "Gonna—gonna cum."

He smirks darkly, knowing he's making you go crazy with pleasure. His hand on your hip tightens, pulling you back onto his cock as he pistons into you relentlessly.

"That's it, princess. Cum for me. Remind me of why I keep your pretty little cunt around..." He encourages into your ear, pinching your clit.

You throw your head back and buck, cumming around him on instinct. You sob and spasm, your body squirming as he fucked you through your orgasm. You whisper his name out in a mantra, vision blurry.

His eyes roll back in ecstasy as he feels your tight little cunt milking his cock for all it's worth.

He grunts and pounds into you a few more times before finally stilling, his cock throbbing inside you as he unloads a massive load of his seed deep into your womb.

Your eyes widen and you claw at his arm, your voice slurring, "N-no... can't cum in me," You hiccup, "Not on... birth control...."

He freees at your words, his mind hazy from the intense high of his orgasm. For a moment, he just stays still, buried deep inside you as he processes your words.

Then, he pulls out, his softening cock slipping out of your used hole with a wet plop! You fall down onto your front, shaking and panting as you try to calm down.

Your body clenches from the after-effects of your intense orgasm, making his and your shared cum spill out from your position on your front with your ass up.

He watches your body wracked with aftershocks, his seed mixed with your fluids trickling down your inner thighs. His jaw tightens.

"Damn," He mutters softly to himself, his eyes fixated on your spread thighs and your puffy, well-used little cunt.

You pant, looking back at him from over your shoulder. Your eyes are half-lidded and red from your previous sobbing.

"I'm sorry, princess," He murmurs softly, reaching out to gently stroke your cheek. He leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "I didn't mean to cum inside you. I'll make sure to pull out next time, okay?"

You swallow, not used to his sweet demeanor but finding yourself not complaining in the slightest. You hum against his lips in acknowledgment, "Okay.."

He smiles softly, ruffling your hair before pulling back. He watches your body, your back glistening with sweat and your thighs sticky with their mixed fluids.

He swallows hard, his Adams apple bobbing and his eyes flicking to your round bottom. He bites his lip, eyes darkening again. "Baby?"

"Yeah...?" I croak out.

"Can I...?" He hesitated, his fingers trailing along your curves possesively. "Can I check if any of it went in?" He asks softly, his fingers splaying out on your bottom possessively.

"Just to make sure none got in..." You nod, giving him permission to check with a mumble, "I s'ppose so..."

He nods, his fingers spreading your bottom apart gently. He leans down, his face inches from your used hole. He blows gently, making you shiver, before pressing his mouth to your aching entrance.

He licks gently, cleaning you up and checking for any of his seed that may have gotten inside. You whimper and grasp the sheets, his check-up making you squirm.

He hums softly, his tongue delving inside you to make sure none of his cum got in. He pulls back after a moment, satisfied that he got it all out.

He presses a soft open-mouthed kiss to your hole before standing up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tilting your skirt back down.

You pant and look over your shoulder, breathing ragged. "Are we done...? Can I...Can I get up..?"

"Mmh," He answers softly, watching you closely. He's half hard again from how needy and sensitive you look. "You can get up," He adds, his eyes flicking down to your thighs again.

You nod and roll onto your back, slowly sitting up, your body feeling sore and achy.

"Easy there..." He moves closer, catching your waist as you sit up unsteadily. His eyes darken slightly as he notices fresh tears welling up in those beautiful eyes.

"Are you okay?" His touch is surprisingly gentle now, all business-like dominance forgotten. "Did I... hurt you?"

"No," You let out a choked laugh and sniffle, "Just the overwhelming pleasure, you know?"

He blinks, momentarily stunned by your response. Then slowly, a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"Overwhelming pleasure, huh?" He leans in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Well, princess, that's called being fucked properly. But that’s no news to you, is it?”

You scoff, but your lip twitches up into a grin. You stand up and reach for your clothes that he had thrown to the side prior. He watches you dress, his eyes roaming over your figure appreciatively.

He can't help but notice the way you wince slightly as you pull your pink panties up. He stands up slowly, buttoning his shirt back up, "Where are you going?"

"Well, I can't exactly stay at this party all wobbly-legged. I'm a total mess. I'm not trying to have the walk of shame and parade around. I'm going home." You go to the nearby mirror and fix your appearance.

He nods, understanding. He moves to stand beside you in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at you.

He runs a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking a bit worn out from the late night and the intense fuck session. "Alright, I'll walk you home."

You smile crookedly, "Thanks."

His reflection smirks softly back at you, watching you try to tame your wild hair. He noticed how you wince slightly as you put on your heels. His jaw tightens slightly.

"Are you sore?" He asks softly, his voice lower than usual. You turn around to look at him once you're satisfied with how you look.

"You know I am." You peck his cheek and grab your purse before heading to the door and opening it. "You coming?"

He follows you out of the room, his eyes on your swaying hips. He catches up to you easily, his long legs eating up the distance. He places a hand on the small of your back as you walk down the hallway, guiding you gently. "I'll make sure you get home safe."

"That's not what I'm worried about. I just hope nobody can smell the sex on us. I do not want to be known as the chick who hooks up at some random parties." Your nose scrunched up at the mere idea.

He chuckles softly, his hand tightening on your waist possessively as he guides you through the crowded party. He can feel eyes on you, wondering where you disappeared and who you disappeared with.

He can already imagine the whispers and rumors spreading like wildfire tomorrow. Especially considering how you two are known as academic rivals—enemies.

You lean onto him, trying to mask the wobble in your step as you head out of the party. He wraps an arm around your waist in response, pulling you closer to him to steady you.

He can feel the curious stares and whispers following you two out of the party. He ignores them, focusing on getting you home safely before the rumors start to spread on the internet.

You follow his steps. His stride is steady and sure, guiding you down the dark streets leading away from the party. The crisp night air hits your faces, covering you both up slightly.

He steals glances at you every few seconds, noticing how you're trying to walk normally despite everything. "Stop pretending like you're not limping."

You huff, pouting. "M’ not pretending... I'd just rather not put any unnecessary strain.."

He arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he glances down at your determined yet pained strides.

In one swift movement, he scoops you up bridal-style, ignoring your startled gasp. "Like hell you're walking any further. I'm carrying you."

"What the hell, Tsukishima?!" You yelped, holding onto him tightly in fear of falling. He just smirks, his arms tightening around you to keep you secure as he continues walking.

He ignores your outburst, knowing damn well you wouldn't be able to walk much further anyway. His long strides eat up the distance, bringing you closer to your home with each step.

You huff and instead let your head fall back, watching the scenery upside-down while he carries you to your house. He finds the whole situation amusing, carrying his academic rival and casual hook-up like a bride.

He can't help but chuckle softly to himself as he walks, the upside-down view of your face making him smirk wider.

He reaches your house sooner than expected, his long legs covering the distance quickly. You lift your head up, your head spinning from whiplash before you rest your head on his shoulder.

He sets you down gently in front of your door, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you upright. He fishes your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door swiftly.

He steps inside, carrying you again once he's inside, kicking the door shut behind him. "Shh...! My parents will hear you," You whisper shout at him.

"Then stop squirming, "He mutters softly, his hands on your ass to keep you still as he carries you up the stairs.

He freezes suddenly, hearing your parents' TV on downstairs. He swallows, trying to be quieter. "Your room?"

You nod and he carries you to your room, being as quiet as possible. He sets you down on your bed gently, looking around to make sure everything is in order.

Satisfied, he turns back to you, kneeling down to remove your heels. "Stay put," He orders softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nod, head bobbing and your eyes droop as the night finally catching up to you. He watches your eyelids flutter heavily, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he realizes just how drunk you actually are.

Finishing with your heels, he gently tucks your blanket around you, ensuring you're comfortable before standing up quietly. "Sleep it off, idiot."

You place your hand on his before he leaves, murmuring out a soft, "Be careful on your way out."

Tsukishima pauses, glancing down at your hand on his with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Momentarily taken aback by your sudden concern, a softness brushed across his usually stern features.

With a brief nod, he squeezes your hand lightly. "I can handle myself."

You smile softly before you let go of his hand and slowly succumb to sleep. He watches your breathing even out, a rare gentle expression softening his angular features.

With a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, he turns and exits your room silently, closing the door with barely a sound.

Masterlist. Masterlist.haikyuu

February 9, 2025. PST: 7:40 PM.

[andy-15-07]

Hi 🤗👋🏻, would you write a smut one about pedro x reader? Like they're babysitting a kid's friend, Pedro gets turned on by the reader who's trying to convince the kid to eat its food (or whatever you like). But every time things get spicy someone, even the kid or something interrupts them.

The Taste of Love

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1636| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The aroma of burnt toast hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the sweet stickiness coating the kitchen table. Five-year-old Leo, a whirlwind of boundless energy, was currently engaged in a battle of wills with a plate of spaghetti. His dark curls bounced as he shook his head emphatically, a tiny frown creasing his brow.

"No quiero," he declared, pushing the plate away with a decisive little hand.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. "Leo, we've talked about this. You need to eat something. You've been playing all morning."

Pedro, sprawled on the living room sofa, chuckled. "Sounds familiar," he called out, his voice laced with amusement.

You shot him a playful glare. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one dealing with a carb-resistant five-year-old."

He grinned, pushing himself up from the sofa. "Let me try my charm." He sauntered into the kitchen, his eyes twinkling. "Hey, Leo. You know, spaghetti gives you super strength. Like Superman!"

Leo eyed him skeptically. "Superman eats tacos," he countered.

Pedro’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. "Ah, good point. But, uh… this spaghetti… it’s magic spaghetti. It makes you run faster than a cheetah!"

Leo considered this, then shook his head again. "I want chicken nuggets."

You bit back a laugh. This was going nowhere. "Okay, new tactic," you announced, grabbing a spoon. "Leo, how about we play airplane? The spoon is the airplane, and the spaghetti is… fuel!" You made airplane noises, swooping the spoon towards Leo's mouth.

He giggled, but still refused to open his mouth.

"Come on, open wide! Choo choo!" You zoomed the spoon around his head, making exaggerated engine sounds.

Pedro leaned against the counter, watching you with an appreciative glint in his eyes. "You know," he murmured, his voice low and husky, "you're really good at this."

"Thanks," you replied, your eyes still on Leo. "It's all about persistence." You wiggled the spoon in front of Leo's nose. "Last stop, the yummy tummy station!"

Leo giggled again, finally opening his mouth. A small portion of spaghetti disappeared.

"Yes!" you cheered. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Pedro chuckled. "You're amazing," he whispered, his eyes lingering on your face. He reached out and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your cheek. His touch sent a shiver down your spine.

"Gracias," you murmured, your cheeks flushing slightly. "Just trying to avoid a meltdown."

"Meltdowns are inevitable with five-year-olds," Pedro said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "But I have a feeling you can handle anything."

"I'm pretty resourceful," you replied, meeting his gaze. The air between you crackled with unspoken energy.

Suddenly, Leo piped up, "More airplane!"

You and Pedro exchanged a look, a mixture of amusement and frustration. "Right," you said, turning back to Leo. "More airplane it is."

The spaghetti saga continued, with you employing a variety of creative tactics, each accompanied by sound effects and silly voices. Pedro watched, a constant smile playing on his lips. He occasionally offered encouragement, his voice a low rumble that resonated through you.

As Leo finally finished the last bite, he declared, "I'm full!" and promptly slid off his chair, running back into the living room.

You and Pedro exchanged a sigh of relief. "Mission accomplished," you said, smiling.

"You're a miracle worker," Pedro said, stepping closer. He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you gently towards him. "You know," he murmured, his voice laced with a playful huskiness, "watching you… it was very… stimulating."

"Oh really?" you teased, raising an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you find so stimulating?"

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling. "Your… dedication. Your… creativity. Your… everything." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "You're incredible, (Y/N)."

"Pedro," you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest.

Just as his lips were about to capture yours, Leo came tearing back into the kitchen. "Pedro, can you build me a tower with the blocks?"

Pedro groaned inwardly. "Of course, Leo," he said, forcing a smile. He turned back to you, his eyes filled with longing. "Later," he whispered, brushing a kiss against your forehead.

The rest of the afternoon followed a similar pattern. Moments of intense connection between you and Pedro, punctuated by Leo's constant demands for attention. Every time things started to heat up, Leo would inevitably interrupt, needing a drink, a toy, or assistance with some imaginary crisis.

As the sun began to set, Leo’s parents arrived to pick him up. After a flurry of goodbyes and thank yous, you and Pedro were finally alone.

He turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Where were we?" he murmured, reaching for you.

You smiled, anticipation bubbling within you. "I believe," you whispered, "we were about to… explore the stimulating effects of spaghetti wrangling."

He chuckled, pulling you close. "Indeed we were." His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, a kiss that spoke of pent-up desire and long-awaited intimacy. His hands roamed your body, sending shivers of delight through you.

"Mmm," he murmured against your lips. "You smell delicious."

"And you," you whispered back, "smell like… slightly burnt toast."

He laughed, pulling you closer. "Worth it," he whispered, his lips finding yours again. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding. His hands moved beneath your shirt, his touch sending sparks through you.

"Pedro," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper.

"Sí, mi amor?" he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

"Let's go to the bedroom," you whispered, taking his hand.

He grinned, his eyes burning with passion. "Finalmente," he said, following you eagerly. As you reached the bedroom door, you paused, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

"You know," you said, "I have a feeling we're going to have a very… stimulating… evening."

He chuckled, pulling you into his arms. "I have a feeling you're right," he whispered, his lips capturing yours in another passionate kiss.

Pedro guided you to the bed, his hands sliding under your shirt, lifting it over your head. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You gasped softly, your fingers tangling in his hair as he explored the sensitive skin along your collarbone.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he admired you. "Hermosa," he whispered, his voice reverent. His hands moved to your waist, unbuttoning your jeans and sliding them down your legs with deliberate slowness, his fingers grazing your skin, igniting a fire within you.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, revealing the toned muscles beneath. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Pedro groaned softly, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was both tender and urgent.

He gently laid you back on the bed, his body pressing against yours, the heat between you growing unbearable. His hands explored every inch of your body, leaving no part untouched, his touch both soothing and electrifying.

"Pedro," you moaned, your body arching towards him, craving more.

He responded with a deep, throaty groan, his lips trailing down your body, leaving a path of fire in their wake. When he finally reached the waistband of your panties, he paused, looking up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"May I?" he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He slid your panties down your legs, his fingers brushing against your skin, sending shivers through you. His lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at your thighs, teasing you until you were trembling beneath him.

When he finally pressed his lips to your most sensitive spot, you cried out, your hands fisting in the sheets as waves of pleasure washed over you. Pedro’s tongue moved with expert precision, drawing you closer and closer to the edge until you finally tumbled over, your body convulsing with release.

Pedro didn’t give you a chance to recover. He moved up your body, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as he positioned himself between your thighs. You felt him, hard and ready, pressing against you, and you moaned softly, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

"Are you ready, mi amor?" he whispered, his voice a mix of love and desire.

"Yes," you breathed, your heart pounding in your chest.

He entered you slowly, his movements deliberate and tender, giving you time to adjust. The sensation of him inside you was overwhelming, a perfect combination of pleasure and intimacy that took your breath away.

Pedro moved with a steady rhythm, his body pressing against yours, his lips never leaving your skin. You matched his pace, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, each thrust bringing you closer to the edge.

"Pedro," you moaned, your nails digging into his back as the pleasure built within you, threatening to consume you.

"I’m right here, mi amor," he whispered, his voice strained with desire. "Let go for me."

With a final thrust, you tumbled over the edge, your body convulsing with release. Pedro followed moments later, his own release washing over him as he buried his face in your neck, his body trembling against yours.

You lay there, tangled together, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through you. Pedro gently brushed the hair from your face, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

"Te amo," he whispered, his voice soft and sincere.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart swelling with emotion.

As you lay in his arms, you knew that no matter what life threw your way, you would always have this—this connection, this love, this passion. And that was all you needed.

[teaandjumpers]

Occasion (obikin ficlet)

Summary: Obi-Wan gives Anakin a gift. Rated G. - - - -

“I thought we agreed you’d wear goggles at the workstation,” said Obi-Wan, sidling up to stand beside Anakin at his workbench.

The younger man was hunched over the table, soldering something, his face too close to the tool to be considered safe. 

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t creep up on me like that,” said Anakin, not bothering to glance his way. 

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, leaning against the workbench. He had broadcast his approach through the Force, and he knew Anakin was aware of his presence, the younger man sending him a slightly annoyed ping across their bond. 

Anakin was often hard to reach when he was working on a project, immersing himself completely in a task and finding it difficult to refocus when he was interrupted. 

He felt bad for a moment, but he had a good reason for disrupting his former Padawan. 

“I have something for you,” he said, keeping his voice light. 

Anakin’s head shot up at the words, his shoulder-length hair whipping about him. 

Oh, how he’d grown into those curls. When he had first started growing his hair out, the dark, golden strands beginning to coil near the ends, Obi-Wan knew that his soft-eyed Padawan was going to be a heartbreaker. 

He just didn’t realize it would be his heart Anakin would be breaking. What a cruel fate to fall for your former Padawan. And a crueler fate to have half the galaxy fall along with you. 

Obi-Wan had done all he could to rid himself of his feelings—the attraction, at least. 

He had given up on not loving Anakin long ago, maybe even as early as that day on Naboo, standing beside his new apprentice, the young boy having been through so much already, standing tall alongside him as an entire planet cheered them on. 

He had asked Yoda once, years before Qui-Gon took him on, what it was like for a Master and Apprentice, what shape a bond took. 

“Different every Master and Padawan relationship is. Find your way there perhaps one day you will.”

And find his way he had. Or rather, it had found him. 

He had loved his Master dearly, his Master’s presence in the Force always grounding, a warm fire that made him feel forever safe, like nothing bad could ever truly happen. 

But Anakin—Anakin was like a supernova, an unending, thunderous storm, a screaming bright star that was impossible to ignore.  

In those early years, he thought of little else but Anakin, his welfare and whereabouts. 

Had his own Master woken repeatedly in the middle of the night, sheets drenched, a blind panic thundering against his chest as he searched the Force for his Padawan’s location? 

Anakin had always been close. Almost always safe. And though Obi-Wan felt him in the Force, he always had to check, confirm it with his eyes, that Anakin was alive, healthy, there.

He was eternally grateful that his apprentice was strong in the Force. It meant Obi-Wan would never have to confront who he would be, who he would become if his Padawan was ever in any real danger.  

Standing beside Anakin now, perhaps one of the strongest Force users in the galaxy, he felt silly, wondering if it was too late to take back his words. Wondering if the younger man had seen the small bundle he was clutching in his right hand. 

Of course he had. 

Obi-Wan wordlessly handed the package over, watching with some trepidation as Anakin untied the string holding the linen fabric in place. 

The cloth fell away to reveal a model ship. It was still grimy despite Obi-Wan’s best efforts to clean the thing, the ship’s insect-like design making it difficult to thoroughly clean its delicate, spindly limbs. 

He had bought the toy on a recent mission, passing by a storefront on a mid-rim planet where a child who looked remarkably like a 10-year old Anakin from behind had stopped him in his tracks, the young boy’s palms pressed against the smudged window pane as he gazed at the model ships neatly displayed on the other side.

How many times had a similar scene played out with Anakin, his Padawan’s gaze straying, fixing on a toy he would never have. 

“It’s a Jedi Vector ship,” said Obi-Wan, the words clumsy on his tongue. “It was a High—”

“A High Republic ship,” finished Anakin, turning the model over in his hands, smiling as he did so. “I know.”

Anakin smiled up at him sweetly, and if Obi-Wan didn’t know the man, if there had been no planet-wide history between them, he would have grabbed him by the face and kissed him. 

A ‘pathetic life form’ he had called him once. Anakin would have been a complete stranger in a different life, a speck of sand in a large desert of people who deserved better. 

It was selfish, and very un-Jedi-like, but Obi-Wan was grateful that Anakin’s fate had been different. 

“But what’s the occasion?” asked Anakin, still smiling, still looking up at him, still, somehow, every bit as spirited as he was before the war. 

The occasion, thought Obi-Wan. The occasion was every occasion, every year, every month, every day, every breath the Force sought fit to gift him, here, alongside Anakin. 

But he simply said—

“You are.”

[kroommii]

If I Say I Love You

characters: Xavier x y/n genre: fluff

It all began last year’s Winter-Fest. It was yet the biggest celebration Xavier had ever seen and of course he would be helping his town to make it successful. The preparation was grueling, stressful with many revisions and re-checks but it was all worth it. Because of the preparation, the town’s income from the Winter-Fest would double last year’s according to the town’s treasurer and that’s great news to Xavier and the townsfolk.

Winter-Fest is a week-long celebration so the townsfolk would take turns in supervising the celebration, especially the town’s snowball field which is an absolute warzone. Tourists and townsfolk alike take part in the exhilarating snowball fight, where nobody is an ally and everyone’s open to fire. On this particular day, Xavier got the short end of the stick and was in charge of keeping the area injury-free.

Amidst the chaos of flying snowballs (and getting hit with some snowball himself), his attention falls onto a particular person. A young woman around his age, with mesmerizing eyes and flawless beauty. Instantly his attention zeroed in on you. It was like his mind was pulled towards you, ridding anything unimportant (everything but you) and filling his brain with you, you, you.

In that moment, he couldn’t feel anything but his beating heart, his fogging breath and your soft voice. Your cheerful face, the bounce on your step as you evade and run away from your friends who were throwing snowballs at you. Your bright laughter as you yourself throw snowballs at them. It was a scene he had seen countless times, but it just felt different when he saw you doing those gestures. It looks like a scene straight out of a fairy tale. A tale in which an angel from heaven (you) went down to earth and graced him with your ethereal presence.

He was so mesmerised that he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings when a ‘thud’ hit his face right on his cheek and it instantly froze him and brought him back from cloud nine.

“Hey bunny boy! Whatcha thinkin about that got you so out of it, huh?” Grandpa Howard’s voice shouted some meter away from him. He was probably the one who threw the snowball towards him.

“Oh Howard, don’t bother the poor boy. He’s already worked enough to be handling your noisy nose!” Grandma Julie, Grandpa Howard’s wife scolds him. “Xavier, darling, don’t pay him any attention. I’m sure you’ve had a hard time with us oldies, why don’t you go have some fun yourself, we’ll watch the crowd for you.”

Grandma Julie is always so kind to the youngsters around her. Xavier smiles, “No need Grandma Julie. I was just a bit distracted. I can go have fun later. Now, why don’t you and Grandpa Howard have fun? I see the others are waiting for you,” Xavier points out to the other seniors who’re looking at them.

“Oh such a sweet boy you are. Good luck on your job and don’t hesitate to tell us when you’re tired of it, don’t want you going down on us now would we, Howard?” Grandma Julie nudges Grandpa Howard.

“Sure, sure. Keep up the good work bunny boy!” He hollered to Xavier.

Watching the couple go back to their friends, Xavier had momentarily forgotten about you, the girl he fell head over heels with. Whipping around his face, his eyes frantically search for your figure. Alas, you have gone away, presumably with your friends, to continue your busy agenda in Winter-Fest. Xavier could only sigh as he already misses you, his eyes dropping and the cheer that was in his face diminished just a tad bit. He guessed he could see you more in the following days of Winter-Fest. It wasn’t a big town and it was just the second day of the celebration, you two would definitely meet again.

----------------------------

Except you didn’t.

Somehow, in the small area of Xavier’s town, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of you at all. It didn’t make sense to him. In what chance would the world have for you two to not meet again for the rest of the week? Xavier already visited each stand everyday, loitering around the town when he’s not on duty and yet he still didn’t see even a strand of your hair. It was truly a slap from reality for Xavier. He knew you were not from around here (he had some info gathering) and you could leave any day, but when it was the end of the week and he hadn't met you at all, it really felt like a wake up call to him who wished too much (you).

Now, under the spring sky and the spring breeze dancin around his face, he couldn’t help but be gloomy about the circumstances of his love life. His hands unmotivated arranged the season’s flower into a pretty arrangement, but not as pretty as he would usually do. Usually, all the stems would be cut to a precision and the leaves are systematically cut and presented, but now the stems are cut neatly, not as precise and the leaves are more free and wild than what he usually presented. He was on a new low energy no doubt.

“If you’re keeping that up better for you to mess around in the garden rather than the station,” A warm voice and hand took the arrangement from his hands and distanced it from him.

“Ah… Jeremiah, welcome to the shop,” Xavier answered with the most bored voice ever.

“Seriously, what is wrong with you right now?” He nudges Xavier’s forehead with his index finger, causing Xavier to stumble back a bit. “You’ve been off since the Winter-Fest. Any news I’m supposed to hear about?”

Xavier huffs, “No. No news you need to be aware of.”

“Cut the crap. You’re clearly down from something and it’s dragging your performance down too. I need my assistant to be in tip top shape, so speak up, what got your heart all tangled up?” Jeremiah impatiently claps his hand and busy it with another arrangement.

Xavier huffs again and rests his arm on the counter to hold his head. He really doesn't want to share his little heartbreak-crush with his boss. Sure Jeremiah is his friend but he’s his boss right now and it makes him feel very weird about sharing his love life with his boss.

“You know I’ll wait here all day if you don’t spit it out soon. The sooner the better xavi. Also I’m sure you’re just itching to arrange another bouquet, don’t think I don’t see your hand playing with the scissor.” Jeremiah chipped in while focusing on his own arrangement.

“Fineeeee. I’ll tell you about my little thing, but just so you know it’s really weird to be talking about it with your boss.”

“Nothing’s weird. I’m your friend first and foremost. Being your boss is just a bonus so I can tell you to do things I don’t want to,” He smiles.

Xavier could only groan to the confession of his friend-boss. Still, he couldn’t hide the smile blooming on his face. His fondness for his friend-boss Jeremiah. A friend who had been there since they were little boys and a caring boss who teaches him everything he needs to know.

“If you’re really that curious, I just saw this pretty girl last Winter-Fest and couldn’t even introduce myself to her.”

And with that, the snipping that was rhythmic from Jeremiah stops. A couple of seconds later he chipped in, “So… you met a pretty girl and didn’t introduce yourself?” He said confused.

“No, no, no, it’s worse,” Xavier now fully hides his head behind his arms. “I just saw her. Didn’t even interact with her at all!”

While Xavier is lamenting his poor love life, Jeremiah was stifling a laughter behind the big flowers he’s arranging.

“Are you seriously laughing right now? I am heartbroken here. I couldn’t speak to the love of my life! It’s tragic Jeremiah! Not comedic!”

Jeremiah laughs more louder. “It’s just- it’s just so stupid!” He turned his head down, having trouble with containing his laughter. “You just saw her and didn’t say anything?”

“It’s not that I didn’t say anything. I saw her while I was on duty and before I could talk to her I was handling something and the next thing I know I couldn’t find her at all over Winter-Fest!” Xavier is now more animated than before, feeling strangely offended at Jeremiah laughing at his predicament.

“Oh, my man. You are a comedic genius, truly.” Jeremiah patted Xavier’s shoulder after calming himself down which was returned with a glare.

“Sure you weren’t able to talk to her then and couldn’t find her for the rest of the week, but you are really falling hard for this mysterious pretty girl aren’t you.”

“She is the love of my life, you don’t understand. She’s not from here and the only reason she was here was because her friend who was interested in Winter-Fest. She’s from the big city and there’s just no guarantee I would ever see her again in my entire life! It was a one in a million chance and I let it go.” he sulked.

Jeremiah groaned, “You can’t be serious Xav. You met her, what? One time and suddenly you’re soulmates? Honestly I thought you were more logical than romantic.”

“But she is my soulmate! I’m telling you, I have to find her again or I will never be able to live with myself ever again!”

“Then find her.”

The sudden statement snapped Xavier up from his rant. He looked at Jeremiah with big eyes and a confused look. “I will go to the city to find her?”

“No you dumbass,” Jeremiah sighed, hands itching to pinch the boy’s cheek. “She was here for the Winter-Fest right? Then wait until it’s Winter-Fest again and then try to find her.”

“But what if she’s not coming!? Again, she’s not from here and the only reason she was here was because of her friend.”

“Then hope she comes again.” Jeremiah concluded, before looking at Xavier. “Look Xavi, I’m really glad you finally have a crush, but it can’t derail you from your life. How about this, next Winter-Fest you won’t be a staff member? You’ll be a normal person enjoying the Winter-Fest just like her. That way, you can try to find her for a full week without any interruption, that good?”

Xavier stares at Jeremiah with hopeful eyes, “You promise that? But what about the labour? I know you can’t handle them all, even with the elders' help.”

Then, Jeremiah flashed a smirk, “That’s what the kids are for. I’ve been waiting for a chance to work them out. They’re too energetic for their own good. I mean, they were destroying all of my flowers all year round! Don’t think they can get away scot free from me.”

With that, Xavier relaxed his stance, his mind no longer running a thousand miles per hour. He can finally think clearly with the crashness of Jeremiah and he finally doesn’t feel like he’s running out of time to find you. “Thank you Jeremiah, you’re a real good friend.”

“That I am,” Jeremiah nodded. “But now, we have a shop to run, orders to process, and flowers to trim, so get your game in loverboy before I take back my words.”

----------------------------

Days turn to weeks and weeks turn to months. Within a blink of an eye, it’s once again Winter-Fest and the town is flocked with visitors from the pasts and new ones.

All the time away from you had given Xavier all kinds of ideas in his mind on how to approach you when you meet again. From flower arranging to making a full on song, Xavier had done it all. However, it was never the perfect gift from his perspective. You were his one in a million and he wouldn’t be content with giving you such normal gifts when you finally come back to him. The song he made was the best he could think of giving you and although he put a lot of time and all his efforts into it, he put it as plan b if he doesn’t come up with a better idea.

With Winter-Fest around the corner, he had no more time to think and he already ran out of ideas. Pacing around the shop, he brainstorms for another ten minute before Jeremiah shooing him out of the store. In his words, ‘Better be out there to see her than miss her in here. I do not need a year of your heartbreak’.

Amidst the white and blue hues of the snow, Jeremiah’s flower shop stands out with vibrant colourful flowers lining the front. Purple, yellow and pink are dominant as they are the freshest flowers in season. He gently cradles the flower heads, feeling their soft cold petals on his fingertips, caressing them as his mind was taken off from the anxiety of an imperfect first meeting.

Thud, a snowball came for Xavier’s head before crumbling onto his coat. He turned his head onto the source and found kids, teenagers, and adults playing in the snow field, specifically the ‘war area’. Every year the town would dedicate an area for snowball fights where all kinds of covers — battalions and base — are available. Xavier skimmed over the faces present in the field, all faces of joy. Some smiling, some grinning, some laughing maniacally as they hit another person right on their face, and some grimacing at the impact of the cleverly thrown snowball. Snowball fight might just be the most distinct part

“Hey you idiots! Don’t throw the snowballs here dammit! Stay in the war area for that!” Jeremiah’s booming voice called out to the kids in the war area who had thrown the snowball towards Xavier. His shouts were met with giggling from kids and some apologies from their guardians.

Reaching for the yellow flower that he was holding, he poked Jeremiah, “Hey, can I get some of these flowers.”

“Huh? Well you can buy it, sure.”

“How much do i need to be able to win a girl?”

“That,, why the hell are you asking me that???”

----------------------------

It took Xavier a couple of tries but thankfully he managed to do it before all his flowers were used. Xavier holds in his hands three snowballs that are just bigger than your normal ones. He sits on a bench away from the hectic festival life with discarded flower stems scattered around him on the bench. Also around him are crumbling snowballs and half made snowballs with a ruined yellow flower in them. He stares sadly at the ruined flower-snowball before gathering them to throw to the side of the road.

Now, the only thing he needs to do is to find you. His perfect gifts for the perfect first encounter is already in his hands, cradled carefully from the roughness of the world. He began his walk slowly to a more crowded area while also carefully maintaining his distance from other people in favour of protecting the snowballs filled with flowers he painstakingly made.

A couple of roads and areas later, he had not found you yet. He sadly had apparently lost one of the special snowballs when someone bumped into him and made him drop one of them. He started to think that maybe his thinking was just a delusion. You were an uptown girl, you went here once, why would you come here again. His spirits are truly in the down low now. He drags his feet as he circles around the war area, trying his best keeping his snowballs safe.

Just as he is ready to let you go and discard the special snowballs, he heard it. Your laughter, your voice, your magical spirit that just lights him up in an instant. He can see you now, more clearly than before thanks to your bright voice. There you are, standing in the war area, laughing while dodging snowballs and creating your own snowballs from the abundant snow around the area. You who are so happy throwing snowballs at each other with what he assumes are your friends, unaware of the boy who had yearned for her for the last year.

In an instant, without any thinking, he steps into the war area. His body doing its own thinking, moving his legs faster than he would normally, running through the area in hopes to get to you. His senses were like on fire, suddenly aware of everything around him, the coldness of the winter wind hitting his face, the soft snow under his boots slowly sinking under his weights, the whizzing air that follows after a snowball is thrown. His two hands tried their best at keeping the special snowballs intact.

Suddenly, he moves like a track and field athlete, cleverly dodging snowballs, leaping over fallen kids and makeshift barriers, ducking over an outstretched arm that is reaching or blocking a snowball from hitting their body. In the end, he is breathless, realising he doesn’t usually do much cardio while working in the flower shop. He is painfully aware of how pathetic he looks, hair and clothes messy because of his recklessness in crossing over the war zone, his hands that are now just holding one of his special snowball, the other one had been lost somewhere when he was rushing over, his erratic breaths trying to get oxygen in his lungs.

You now notice him, Xavier standing at arms-length from you. Your eyes wash over him like a blessing, lifting him spirits the more you see him. He knows this is far from the perfect first encounter he imagined but at this point he will take anything the world (you) will give him. Slowly, his hands stretch to show you the snowball. He slowly and carefully nudged the snow little by little until the petals of the yellow petal peek over the snow it was buried over. The yellow is like a splash of colour before the monochromatic cold tone around him. He smiles and your hand goes to receive the flower.

He opens his mouth to introduce himself…

[end.]

[wutheringmights]

Chapter 31: The Spoken Confession & The Black Blood Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Additional Tags: Linked Universe (Legend of Zelda), Alternate Universe, Character Study, War, world building, Trauma, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Political Intrigue, Found Family, Angst and Humor, Warriors is a very complicated person, Warriors also does not know Time is Mask, Warriors (Linked Universe)-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Heavy Angst, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Please read content warnings before each chapter, Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Physical Abuse, Implied Sexual Content, Power Imbalance, Implied/Referenced Torture, Blood and Injury, Disabled Character, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Summary: “You are going to hear a lot of terrible things about me. Most of it is going to be true.” Being the hero who saved Hyrule from a bloody war was a thankless job that left Warriors with more regrets than he cared to remember. He only started to heal after meeting his fellow heroes from across time and joining them on their quest to defeat the black-blooded monsters. But when his time-hopping journey takes him back home, he finds his kingdom on the brink of war once more. This war threatens to ensnare not only Warriors, but his newfound family as well. Warriors will do whatever it takes to keep them safe, even if that means becoming a traitor to the kingdom he gave up everything to save. But the harder Warriors works to protect his family, the more the secrets of his dark past come to life. Who is Captain Link Walton, the Hero of Warriors? What happened to the two other heroes he had once fought alongside all those years ago? When this is over, will Warriors even have a family left to save or is he doomed to repeat his past mistakes? (Once, there were three brothers: the captain, the engineer, and the child. Their story did not have a happy ending.)

Hello everybody! Guess who's back! If you remember me, then you know what bullshit this is. If you don't, then oh boy!

I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long. The good news is that it's about 42k long. That's a lovely little novella right there. With how crazy the world is right now, it feels bad to write a dark fantasy with a cornerstone of bad people in politics, but hopefully you will find some catharsis in this.

I know I did. I cried. A lot.

Cheers! 🥂

In this chapter of the fanfiction that is way too long for it's own good:

Link finds solace in his friendship with Proxi

The Knights of Hyrule are here, which means its time to deal with the black blood problem.

Pain, and perhaps a little suffering to go with it.

📚 Read It Here 📚

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Are you excited to compete in this year's Cancer Awareness Beauty Pageant?" the cheery interviewer asked Megan.

Megan nodded, visibly pretty nervous. "Yeah, I mean, I've always watched it every year, so getting to be in it is kinda surreal....."

"What made you want to compete yourself?"

"Oh, I didn't! My mom signed me up!"

"We've heard that one a few times today! What was your reaction to being signed up?"

"My mom surprised me out of nowhere last week and told me I got picked. That she sent them a bunch of my TikTok and OF videos and the judges were thrilled to have me participate."

"You dodged my question a bit, darling." The interviewer smirked.

"S-Sorry..... Ummmm I was really scared at first. I love having such big breasts, my family loves them, and guys have so much fun with them, I can't really get them to stop grabbing them and playing with them when I go out."

"Awww, sounds like you're going to miss them. Well, cheer up, millions of guys are about to pleasure themselves watching you lose your breasts!"

Megan gulped anxiously. "That is kinda exciting I guess....."

"Don't worry, you're a really pretty girl, I'm sure the judges will love you. Just remember the basics?"

"Basics?"

"In round one, flaunt them as much as possible! Jiggle them, bounce them, squeeze them, run and jump and dance. Do gymnastics! Get those big fat things moving."

"OK......"

"In round two, smile when your breasts get chopped off. Remember this is for an awesome cause and your titties will be totally numbed. So make sure to smile big, if you want to really impress the judges, masturbate while your boobs get removed. Don't get grossed out or anything, laugh and be super playful, if a bunch of fat spills out of them say you're excited to lose all that gross fat or something!"

"I think I can do that."

"Then hold up your severed boobies for the audience and toss them in the garbage like a good girl."

Megan blushed. "Got it...... and for the third round?"

"Strut confidently with your new flat chest, be sure to tell the judges how happy you are to lose your breasts for such a great cause, and maybe joke that you would've gotten them removed anyway, because the pageant was so much fun. Show off your pussy, spread your ass cheeks, show how sexy you are even without those big sacks of fat you carry around. The judges will love them, maybe even piss for them, and smile confidently as you do it, staring one of the judges in the eyes."

"Wow, I wish I could've practiced..... I'll try to remember all this."

"Don't worry, you'll do great, darling. Just smile, be confident, be sexy, and pleasure yourself. You can never moan too loud or too often, especially during round two! Good luck."

"Th-Thanks...... there's so many beautiful girls with such enormous breasts here.... I'll try to do my best!"

"That's the spirit. Oh, do you think you could jiggle them for us a bit? Give us a mini show for everyone watching at home before the main event? I hear you're developing quite a little following since getting announced."

"Sure!" Megan blushed, holding her huge breasts as she jiggled them and bounced them a bit, looking as confident and sexy as possible, imaging how amazing it'll feel to be out there on the stage, strutting around naked, watching her breasts get chopped off in front of so many cheering people.

[hiddenwritingsintheworld]

Cruel Summer Ch. 7

Donations | Thoughts & Feelings | Cruel Summer Series | Chapter 6

You grinned at the crowd as you grabbed your guitar and stood at the mic. “Welcome to the acoustic set!” you laughed as they all cheered loudly. “So originally I was going to sing a few songs that you guys already know.” You grinned as they continued to cheer. “But…I have a very special reason for wanting to play this one song…it's new, never before been heard by ANYONE but my manager…so I hope you’ll like it!” you grinned as you began to strum the guitar. 

‘This happens once every few lifetimes

These chemicals hit me like white wine

What if I told you I'm back?

The hospital was a drag

Worst sleep that I ever had

I circled you on a map

I haven't come around in so long

But I'm coming back so strong’ 

You beamed as you stepped by to strum for a few moments before stepping back up to the mic. 

‘So when I touch down

Call the amateurs and

Cut 'em from the team

Ditch the clowns, get the crown

Baby I'm the one to beat

Cause the sign on your heart

Said it's still reserved for me

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

Hey you, what if I told you we're cool?

That child's play back in school

Is forgiven under my rule

I haven't come around in so long

But I'm making a comeback to where I belong …’ 

You continued the song, singing and glancing toward the VIP tent with a large smile covering your face. You wanted Chris to enjoy this as much as you’d enjoyed being loved by someone so openly. 

‘These blokes warm the benches

We been on a winning streak

He jokes that it's heroin but this time with an "E"

Cause the sign on your heart said it's still reserved for me

Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

Shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads

Beer sticking to the floor

Cheers chanted, cause they said

There was no chance, trying to be

The greatest in the league

Where's the trophy?

He just comes running over to me’

As you finished playing the song, the crowd erupted in cheers. You saw people taking photos of the VIP area as well, so you stood and laughed softly while they filmed, took photos of themselves with you in the background, and just overall cheered with excitement. You moved over to the piano, sitting down and smiling out at the crowd as you moved toward the mic. “Now this one? This one you definitely know.” you leaned back and began playing ‘Daylight’ inciting more screams and cheering. 

‘My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in

Everyone looked worse in the light

There are so many lines that I've crossed unforgiven

I'll tell you the truth, but never goodbye

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight’ 

Chris watched proudly as you sang, he couldn’t believe you two were together and happy. Even given how hectic your lives had been lately, you two still made time for each other. He grinned watching you as others watched him, taking photos and videos. Which you both would gush over later. He couldn’t wait to show you off to all your friends either. He was finally happy, finally with someone who cared about him as a person, and not because of who he was. 

‘Luck of the draw only draws the unlucky

And so I became the butt of the joke

I wounded the good and I trusted the wicked

Clearing the air, I breathed in the smoke

Maybe you ran with the wolves and refused to settle down

Maybe I've stormed out of every single room in this town

Threw out our cloaks and our daggers because it's morning now

It's brighter now, now

As you performed, you couldn’t stop smiling; you hoped he would listen to these words and understand how in love you were with him. As the song came to an end, Chris cheered and whistled loudly as you bowed. 

You finished the concert, blowing a kiss to the crowd before going backstage to meet Chris. He stood there, grinning as you leaped into his arms, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. “Incredible,” he whispered as you grinned. “Yeah? You like the new song?” you asked as he chuckled, Y/E/C shining brightly as you looked up at him, “I loved it. I love you,” he said as you stared into his eyes, a grin taking over your features. “I love you too,” you whispered, pressing your lips into his again. 

Once you changed into a pair of sun bleached jeans, a white tank top with a tan crocheted beach top over it. You hopped into the car with Chris and took off on what would turn out to be a life changing weekend. 

When you both arrived, Chris told you he was going down to the beach where the guys were hanging out around a fire, and you decided to look for the girls. You found them all out on the back patio, and walked through the kitchen to access the back patio. There was Scarlet, along with Ali and a few of her friends. “Hey!” you were speaking to Scarlet, who stood up and grinned, however Ali practically shoved her out of the way and bear hugged you. “Oh my god!” she giggled again, clearly tipsy if not drunk already. “I can’t believe you’re here!” She shouted laughing with her friends. You looked from her to Scarlet and smiled. “Yep!” it was a fake smile but you attempted to look happy. “We have to get you a drink before we make our way down to the beach where the guys are!” she said as she drugged you into the house. 

-Chris’s POV-

You greeted the guys as you approached them, seeing Robert, Jeremy, Mark, Sebastian, and Anthony. The rest of the group was either guys that Chris knew from his life or his family members, like his brother. “Hemsworth! About time you showed up!” Evans laughed as the girls squealing on the deck cause all the guys to look up there. “What’s she doing here? Thought she wasn’t invited Evans.” Robert asked, trying to stifle a laugh. “She wasn’t.” Evans replied in a sharp, venom dripping tone as his nostrils flared a bit. “She came with me. Is there something wrong with her being here?” you asked as everyone got a seat around the fire. 

“Come on Hemsworth we’ve all seen the tabloids…we know you guys are at the very least fucking.” Jeremy said laughing as Mark winched glancing up at you. “Whoa…no, we’re just old friends hanging out. What’s wrong with that?” you asked as the group settled down and glanced at Evans. “Dude…you don’t want to get mixed up in that. Y/N….she’s a nice girl? Bro she’s fuckin psycho. We used to hook up when we all filmed together, she’s a clingy bitch and lousy in bed, the worst mistake I ever made. Just trust me, plus…we’ve all seen it…she used to beg me to film it.” Evans said as a few of the guys tried to hide their laughter. 

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you guys talking about? Y/N & I are friends, I’d never dream of dating her. Not in a million years.” you said before the girls giggled from behind you as Ali rushed past, straight into Evans arms. “Look who decided to show up!” she laughed looking at Y/N as she stood by you. 

-Y/N POV- 

You’d never felt so out of place and awkward in your entire life, hearing the man you were in love with say he’d never date you in a million years stung, alot. The guys were staring at you, some were smirking and eyeing your body, others wouldn’t even meet your eyes, while a few winked, licked their lips and made kissy faces at you. “Y/N has agreed to sing a couple of songs for us!” Ali beamed before looking at you as you looked surprised. “And I know just the songs!” you went to protest but no one backed you up. Not even Hemsworth. 

You felt like everyone knew something you didn’t and what made it worse, was overhearing Chris say he’d never date you. You looked surprised to see Ali reappear with a guitar and leaned over to you as you took a seat around the fire. “Can you play…Is It Over Now? And “Slut!”?” she gave you the fakest puppy eyes and in your gut, you knew. She knew. They all fucking knew. 

You swallowed, and strummed the guitar and tuned it before looking up and across the fire. You saw Chris sitting with Evans and a couple other cast members not even looking at you. Scarlet held a sad look on her face as you began to sing.

Tag List: @notebooks-of-nonsense @fdl305 @bval-1 @calimoi @syntheticavenger

[criswritessometimes]

song sparrow

content - reader runs into schlatt at twitchcon

author's note // wooo! bluejay part 2! i highly recommend reading bluejay if you haven't to understand the context.

california was a good new start for you. you needed to get out of new york after, well, the breakup. you had made a new community on the west coast, not to forget one of your best friends, ted! he was the one that helped you the most after your breakup with schlatt, you never asked him to, but he more than happily offered his support while you were getting back on your feet emotionally. earlier in the week, you got an email inviting you to twitchcon. you scan the email and are about to click the attend button, but your thumb is hovering over it for a while, a little longer than it usually would. you sign, turn your phone off, and set it down, thinking for a little while more before you make the decision

it’s a few days later, and you still don’t know if you’re going to go. as you’re editing a new video with ted in it, your phone starts buzzing. taking off your headphones and turning the screen over, you see ted’s face on your screen, “hey, what’s up.” you greet. “are you going?” he opens with. “wow, that’s one way to say hi. umm, i’m not sure.” you answer his question. “ok, well hi. so, are you going to twitchcon?” ted asks again. you rub your hand over your forehead, schlatt had started streaming again, and you were worried you would run into him. ted answers this question for you, “he hates california, you know that right? he would tell me about his distain everytime h would come out to visit.” “yeah i know,” you mutter, “ugh fine i'll go.” “yay!!” ted cheers from the other line, “we’ll have fun! we can hang out for the whole day.” “ted, we do that to begin with.” you laugh a little, reminding him. “yeah but like we’ll have lanyards on this time,” he adds. you chuckle at his comment, feeling some stress leave your body.

today was the day. the plan was for you to pick up ted and then drive to san diego, getting there around 11am. with both of your track records, being late was always an option. the car ride there was fine; yeah, there was traffic leaving LA, but there always was, no matter what time you left. 

after getting checked in and getting the lanyard, you and ted walked around the floor with a few other creator friends to see what twitchcon had in store for you this year. you hear a loud, boisterous laugh from across the hall, and you turn to your head and see where it came from. it’s him. you see schlatt catching up with charlie about 20 feet away. there’s a drop in your stomach as your eyes go wide. you never thought you would see him again, let alone here. ted looks to his right and sees you’re not beside him anymore. he looks behind him, sees you stuck, and sees schlatt and charlie talking. ted walks over to you, slowly turning your body to help you keep walking. he puts an arm over your shoulder and leads you to the most private area he can find. once there, he holds your hand gently to look up at him. “i’m right here ok?” he gently says. you nod slightly, still looking around to see if he noticed you. your arms wrap around ted to try and ground yourself with him. you pull away after a few seconds, “i just didn’t know he was gonna be here.” “he never texted me about it.” ted says, pulling his phone out to double-check his texts. you know they were friends, and you didnt want to create a riff between them by telling ted about all the complexits of your relationship. all you tld him was that he broke up with you because he was worried something bad was going to happen if it was revealed that you two were dating. “we can go home if you want.” ted offers. you shake your head, “no, i still wanna have a good time.” “ok i’ll make a deal with you,” ted starts, “we’ll go over and say hi, then we’ll go over to the other side of the convention hall.” you shake your head, “yeah that sounds fine.” ted leads you back to the group. he sees schlatt and charlie have joined in. ted goes over to schlatt to give him a big hug; you forget the last time ted told you he saw him, so it made sense, as you were talking to charlie. “wow they really let anyone in here.” he jokes as he hugs you. you reciprocate and bite back, “yeah i could say the same thing.” he laughs at your joke and continues with the pleasantries of ‘how have you been,’ ‘what projects do you have on the docket,’ ‘do you want to join me on this project,’ all of that. you really do try and focus on charlie and talking with him, but you keep getting distracted by hearing schlatt’s voice. “hey, you ok?” charlie asks, stepping closer to you. “um yeah, i’m good. i just haven't seen schlatt in a while, and it’s just weird to see him at a convention.” you explain. charlie’s eyes shoot up in suprise, “you and schlatt know own each other?” “ummmm,” you inhale, “umm yeah, we used to hang out in new york a few times a year together. we just had a feeling there would be dating rumors if we were seen in a video together so we were never able to collab.” it felt wrong lying to charlie, but you didn’t need to air out your whole relationship on the floor of twitchcon, time and place, yknow?

you and charlie continue to talk until he’s pulled away for a panel, and you’re left alone with schlatt and ted. schlatt is talking to ted as he notices you, “oh my god, hey (y/n) i didn’t get to say hi to you yet.” there was a light in his eyes you didn’t notice until it had come back. you offer him a polite smile, “hey yeah, i’m surprised to see you in california, i thought you hated it here?” “yeah, well.” he brushes it off. there’s a pause between the three of you. you knew ted wasn't going to chime in, so you do. “have you been keeping well?” you speak up. “um yeah, i was able to find a new routine.” you smile again, “that’s awesome, i’m glad you were able to.” all you can think about the thursday after your break up. 

“you kept me on a easy schedule, i knew what i was doing everyday.” 

you continue to nod along, the phase continuing in your mind. you weren’t sure if you still loved him, but damn if you didn't want the best for him. ted looks over at you and can tell you’re holding back talking honestly, so he finds a way to remove himself, “i’m gonna go get a bottle of water, (y/n), schlatt, you guys want anything?” “yeah, some water would be nice.” you answer. “i’m good, man, thanks.” schlatt tells him. ted nods and then leaves your area. 

“can we talk?” he speaks first. “about what? you broke up with me, jay.” you reply. “i know, and it was a rash decision i made. i’m sorry,” schlatt says, taking a pause before his last statement. “i appreciate it, but could we not so the whole ‘make-up-talk-about-our-relationship' stuff here?” you ask, looking around for whoever might be listening to you. “of course, i want to move at our pace. do you want to get dinner and talk tonight?” he says, then follows it with, “i realize that sounds like a date, i promise it’s not.” you chuckle a little, endeared that he was still nervous in front of you. “yeah sure schlatt, i’ll text you a place later in the day.” you say, a calmness coming over you. “great, i’ll see you later. have a fun time with ted.” he gives you a little nod and then walks into the crowd. you stand there for a few seconds before ted is coming over to you. “hey everything go ok?” he asks, “i saw you guys talking then schlatt walking away.” “yeah, we’re al good,” you take the bottle of water from him, crack it open, then take a sip, “we’re getting dinner later tonight to talk, actually.” “oh?” ted replies.

[straitjacketzz]

New Leaf 🌱

[nibbelraz]

Winter blues, but it won't last for long.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

and! barbarian!fig! its her

[bixels]

What did/do you like about Pharah?

Uh, gameplay-wise, I really love characters in shooters who rely on three-dimensional movement techs. Chaining together hover and jump to stay in the air for as long as possible and keep momentum is so satisfying, and picking enemies off from the sky made me feel like a bird of prey. I was a good Pharah main.

Story-wise, there unfortunately isn't much to canonically go off because Pharah is so underutilized and neglected. Her personality's pretty boilerplate "heroic hero" (she's literally inspired by Captain America).

But it's the crumbs/bits and pieces that I really latched onto. Pharah's a confirmed lesbian; her short story with Baptiste implies she harbors a crush on Mercy (fucking thank you.). She's biracial Egyptian/First Nations. She has major mommy issues, having grown up both admiring and resenting Ana. She's the bridge between Old Overwatch, inspired by the idealized heroes who surrounded her childhood, and New Overwatch. She's one of the only inter-generational characters in the cast; someone whose experiences span the gap, which is why I seriously believe Pharah would make a great main character.

There isn't much to go off of, though; she's a very uncomplicated character (she's a soldier for a private military corporation, lol.). But that just means she's a blank slate character, so I've seen fanfic writers run wild and create some really interesting takes on her. My favorite interpretation of her's a dense, herbo gym-bro type (a lot of her liens are about work outs, exercising, and playing sports) who's easily excitable under her seemingly self-serious, armored visage. We see how she tends to gloat and hype herself up when she's on a streak too, so Pharah definitely has a competitive and boastful side under her more professional and militant performance.

Now Mercy? Mercy is a real complex character.

[teddybeartoji]

the new year has started kind of horribly for me i haven't felt this bad in while😭😭😭😭 but . i am feeling a bit better today so that's good i suppose AAANYWAYY i just wanted to say that i miss you and that i love you aaand that i hope you're all doing good i hope you're all having fun<3333333333

[chuluoyi]

𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

- zayne x reader

he is your husband and you are his wife. but of course you know the bitter truth—you will never be able to replace her.

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—angst, hurt/comfort, unrequited love, drunken sex, mentions of injury, blood, hunter!reader (not l&ds mc -> l&ds mc is zayne's late ex-girlfriend here), spoilers! from zayne’s bond story nostalgic sweetness

note: wc. 8k ! i've been having these bits and pieces scenarios for zayne in mind and then i thought what if i combined it all into one angst joyride? :)) tagging per request: @kissxcore @rjreins @i2s2m @tom-pls-fuck-me @yueyoonie @sanriosatoru

07.15 p.m

Zayne would be getting off work soon. He had just finished an emergency surgery, and it had been exhausting. Now it was quite late.

“Dr. Zayne! Great job today!” Greyson exclaimed, suddenly strolling into his consultation room with a grin. “Want to grab dinner with us?”

Honestly, he was starving too. “Where?”

“Oh, you know, that new place that just opened nearby! They have the tastiest tiramisu, or so I’ve heard. C’mon, we’re inviting the nurses too!”

He knew he needed to head home soon, but fatigue and hunger blurred his thoughts at the mention of dessert.

“Alright.”

. . .

08.25 p.m

Getting together with the hospital staff was always nice. They were rowdy, but it was definitely a great way to unwind after a hard day.

The tiramisu was as great as Greyson said. Speaking of his assistant, he and Yvonne were having a blast. Other doctors were getting drunk. Zayne could only shake his head, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had been here quite a while.

It was only when he turned on his phone and saw the time that he realized, with sinking heart that—

He was supposed to meet you at six.

If you were asked how you felt about your life now, you’d be hard-pressed to say you were completely content.

You were a stellar fighter in the Hunter Association, more than content with your job, and you had a good husband. To some, you had what they would call the perfect life.

The wife of the Dr. Zayne. True, it was a flattering title, yet unbeknownst to everyone, also a humbling one.

And the notion struck you once again when your husband of almost two years stood you up on your dinner date without so much as a notice.

“Miss... we’re about to close now...” The waitress approached your table for at least the third time, and you nodded sheepishly, finally finishing your meal.

You paid for it and left the restaurant. The chilly night air hit your skin, giving you goosebumps as you walked home. It wasn’t the first time this had happened. Granted, Zayne had a packed schedule, and you figured he might've had an urgent matter to attend to that he forgot to let you know.

Still... it hurts. Knowing you were not a priority in your husband’s eyes wasn’t a fun feeling.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket the moment you arrived at your shared home. Your husband’s name flashed on your screen. The time now was 08.40 p.m.

“Hello, Zayne?”

“Y/N?” Your husband’s voice sounded frantic. “Are you still at the restaurant? I’m going—”

“Ah, no need to. I’m going home.”

“I’ll pick you up then. Stay there—”

“I’ve already arrived.”

An awkward silence settled between you, and you could clearly hear the noise on the other end. Greyson’s laughter was unmistakable.

You forced a laugh, still trying to sound cheerful for him even when realizing that he had completely forgotten about you. “It’s totally fine, Zayne! Are you heading back?”

“Yeah...”

“Take care then. See you at home.”

You ended the call with a sigh, trying to shake off the sting in your heart. As you made your way upstairs to your bedroom, you passed by a large portrait on the wall, and a bittersweet sensation washed over you.

Your wedding photo. Both of you were smiling on what was the most wonderful day of your life. Zayne’s smile was reserved, but yours was radiant.

It is the most wonderful thing that has happened to you... but is it the same for him?

At that time, despite everything, you were convinced a lifetime of happiness awaited you, yet now... it got harder to fool yourself into believing it.

Your marriage has always been lukewarm.

Zayne wasn’t an overly excited person, and you were his opposite—but try as you might, some things between you just didn’t work out. As a result, both of you tended to keep certain things to yourselves.

Most days, this didn't bother him. He valued his privacy, so the way things were suited him just fine. However, several days later, when Greyson approached him with a worried expression and a news, even Zayne had to draw the line.

“Dr. Zayne? Uh, how do I say this? I think I saw your wife being wheeled in earlier with the injured from the hunt zones raid…”

. . .

“Your husband is a doctor here. Why aren’t you calling him?”

Xavier, your fellow Deepspace Hunter who was partnered with you in this mission, questioned you with a hint of annoyance as he observed your pathetic state on the stretcher and crossed his arms. “Why do you have to bleed out in ER when you can get him?”

You winced, pressing the bloodied cloth against your stinging abdomen as you felt yourself growing faint. “He’s... a surgeon,” you panted. “He’s busy.”

Above all, you didn’t want Zayne to see you like this. You could already imagine his angry face, and that mental image alone made you recoil.

“What sort of husband is busy when his wife is injured?” Xavier raised an eyebrow. “Did you at least notify him?”

You shut your eyes, feeling a migraine coming.

“I will then.”

“No.”

“Y/N, you—”

“Shut up, Xavier—”

The curtain was suddenly pulled back, and you braced yourself for whoever had come to check on you next. To your surprise, the cloth in your hand was snatched away, and you felt your uniform being torn open with urgency.

When you opened your eyes, you barely made out your husband’s figure through your hazy vision. “…Zayne?”

His expression was stern, unforgiving even, as he started to disinfect your wound. Despite the tension, you couldn't deny the relief that washed over you. You knew you were in good hands, even if you had to face his fury later on.

Your consciousness slipped away not long after that.

. . .

The next time you woke up, you found yourself in a private room, with a nagging itch where you had been injured.

You groaned, your limbs stiff and heavy, and the room slowly came into focus—along with your husband's face.

"Zayne?" Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He stood pristine in his white coat and glasses, assessing you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Your wound is, thankfully, shallow," he said flatly, his tone lacking any real concern. "You'll be discharged tonight. I'll take you home as soon as my shift is over."

"Ah..." You blinked several times to clear your head. "Good then. Sorry for showing up out of nowhere. Xavier and I were on a rescue mission, and I accidentally—"

He walked away before you could finish, the abruptness snapping you fully awake. He was furious, that much was clear.

"Ha ha..." You forced a laugh, fiddling with your fingers, trying to ease the awkward tension between you. "It doesn't hurt much, actually. You're right—I'm fine..."

Zayne shot you a sharp glance. "You passed out due to blood loss."

"This isn't the first time it has happened and nor will it be—"

"And it didn't even occur to you to inform me at all. I found out that my own wife was wounded because Greyson passed by the ER and saw you."

His words left you silent, caught red-handed, but your annoyance was reaching its limit. You had imagined how nice it would be if he panicked about you, showering you with care when he found out. But instead, Zayne chose to rebuke you the moment you woke up.

“I’m not a child,” you reasoned, keeping yourself calm. “I’m a hunter. This is nothing new, and you should understand that.”

“The least you could’ve done is to tell me—“

“Do you know why I didn’t? It’s because I know how you’ll react!”

“—and it would do you better to prioritize your safety and not rush headfirst into danger.”

“Believe me, I do but—!”

Suddenly, Zayne spun around to face you, his eyes blazing with fury as he raised his voice. “I’ve told you so many times already, you have to stay back, or you’ll end up—!”

He stopped abruptly, leaving his sentence hanging in the air, but right at that moment, you knew all too well who he meant, and what the implication was.

His, without a doubt, greatest love. His childhood friend, a hunter like yourself, someone he had vowed to save but succumbed to her illness before he could do so, died on arrival.

The irony was sharp. You had become everything she once was. You knew her well, too. When she passed, the entire Hunter Association mourned her loss. And more than that, on the night she died, you had been with him.

Looking back, you should have seen it coming. Still, it hit you like a splash of cold water. Your husband was still preoccupied with thoughts of his ex-girlfriend, and worse yet, he saw pieces of her in you.

And you suspected he had for a while—perhaps even, from the very beginning.

For a second there, not for the first time, you felt your heart shatter.

“I don’t have Protocore syndrome,” you stated, steeling yourself against the heartbreak. “My heart won't suddenly fail because I get injured. I’m not that weak.”

You turned away as Zayne refused to respond, missing his look of disdain as he stormed out of the room.

That was when your first tear fell.

Right from the start, you knew you had to brace yourself for this. You knew that eventually, this tragedy would overshadow your marriage. Because while Zayne might be your husband by law, deep down, his heart still belonged to someone else.

To her.

You two are too much alike.

It wasn’t the first time he had noticed it. And it wouldn’t be the last.

On bad mornings, when his eyes were bleary and he hadn't had a good sleep, he would see her instead of you in your shared bed. And with that mistaken sight came a fleeting sense of relief... until his vision cleared and he remembered she was truly gone and it was you.

Zayne knew how wrong this was on so many levels. It was terribly unfair to you.

Still, his concern for you was genuine. Seeing you lying still on the stretcher brought back that very same nightmare, and really, he truly never wanted you to be hurt.

After his outburst and your clipped response, the two of you barely exchanged any words for the rest of the week. To make matters worse, he was sent on a business trip the following week, and all in all, you went two weeks hardly speaking to each other.

And before he knew it, her death anniversary was only a couple of days away.

. . .

"How much is this?"

"Ah, the bow is 50,000 Gold, sir!"

Inside the airport's souvenir shop, Zayne examined the intricate light blue and white bow clip. Made of tweed and adorned with small pearls, it looked nice.

He thought it'd suit you well.

"I'll get this then."

"Right away!"

As the clerk went to wrap the trinket, Zayne reflected on these past two weeks. A nagging feeling twisted in his gut as he thought about how curt he had been with you in text messages and how often you had left him on read.

Husband and wife shouldn't be this way. He wanted the unbearable air between you to end. Determined to resolve things, he planned to talk to you when he returned. He was on his way to the airport taxi when—

"Zayne!" He stopped in his tracks, recognizing the familiar voice, and turned around.

There you were, waiting by his car with a smile.

It was never in you to stay angry for long. It was a blessing and a curse, really, because while you no longer wished to give your husband silent treatment, a part of you still felt conflicted.

"How was your trip?" you asked as you started the engine, pushing the events of the past two weeks to the back of your mind.

Zayne didn't immediately answer, and you felt his gaze on you as you drove the car. "It was okay."

You hummed in acknowledgement, and he followed up with, "How is your wound? Do you dress it daily?"

"Mm-hm. It's getting better."

"I'll have a look at it later."

"Sure."

Silence. Usually you would ramble to distract him, but now, even you weren’t sure if you should.

Then, he said, "You really didn’t have to pick me up. I could have made my way home on my own."

To that, you pasted on a smile. “You always pick me up whenever I have to go on business trips. It’s only fair I do the same for you, husband.”

Ah. Was it the wrong move? The word had slipped out so easily that you didn’t realize it until after you said it.

But to your surprise, Zayne let out a chuckle and played along. "Well, thank you then, wife. It certainly felt quite off without a certain someone the past week."

So, he actually likes having you around...? The thought made you almost giddy. Despite his usual taciturn and sarcastic demeanor, you knew he was genuine in his own way.

"Bet you missed me," you teased, grinning.

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure it's not the other way around?"

"Nope. But I did miss getting new snowmen."

"...why do you like them so much? I've made plenty for you already."

"No particular reason. Snowman just kinda reminds me of you somehow."

The tension between you had melted away, and you felt a sense of relief. Beside you, even Zayne couldn’t hide his smile. For the rest of the drive home, you chatted like you used to.

When you arrived back at your shared home, he suddenly stopped and presented you with a little box. "I got you something."

"Huh?" you paused, bewildered, as he took your hand and placed the box in it.

"Open it."

With curiosity, you lifted the lid, and were surprised at the sight of a pretty bow clip inside. "Whoa, how cute..."

Zayne eyed you expectantly. "Do you like it?"

Your eyes lit up with delight, and a smile spread across your lips.

"Yes!" you beamed at him with zero hesitation, and in that moment, something struck a chord within him. Zayne had always thought you were easy on the eyes—

—but when you smiled like that, you were truly charming.

"It's healing nicely."

You felt somewhat self-conscious as your husband examined your bare abdomen, where your injury was, as you lied on your bed. His hands, cool and practiced, tenderly removed your stitches.

It wasn't as if Zayne had never touched you. You two had been married for almost two years, and of course you had been intimate several times, but it wasn't as if you were a passionate couple to begin with—so you often found yourself flustered.

"Mm." Despite yourself, you squirmed. Noticing this, he looked up at you, his unfazed eyes meeting yours with a frown.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No, not really... It just feels as if you're tickling me."

He was positively unamused. "I'm not trying to tickle you."

"I know!"

Zayne wrapped your midsection securely with the bandage. When he was done, he let out a sigh and you felt like you had to show him your gratitude somehow.

“Thank you, Zayne…” you mumbled, avoiding eye contact. But in the next second, your heart skipped a beat as his hand rested gently on your head.

"You can thank me by being more careful next time." Your husband looked at you with the smallest of smile. "Your safety comes first, always remember that."

Without either of you realizing it, you both had tried to bury that argument from two weeks ago, yet it was still gnawing at you all the same. The thought that he too was bothered with it made you warm.

"Noted," you cheekily grinned. "If I'm not safe and sound, a certain iceman will get angry at me."

Zayne shot you an unimpressed look. “If you come to me injured again, I’ll start charging you fees.”

You let out a dramatic gasp. "How stingy! I'm your wife, not just some stranger!"

"A very uncooperative wife, you are."

You huffed, and he chuckled. You really thought all was well between you two now, until Zayne suddenly stood up and grabbed the car keys. “Well then, rest. I have to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to stop by the florist—”

And it hit you. In two days. The day everything ended three years ago.

Zayne seemed to realize it too, but you quickly masked your falling smile with a faux one. "O-oh, right..."

No matter how, it's still going to be an important day to him. You had nothing against it, really. Your husband's late girlfriend had once been your colleague too, and you mourned her just like everyone else did.

Still, even with that understanding, in your heart of hearts, it remains just as bitter.

You didn't want to, but you needed to find closure. You hoped that by doing this, it would finally put an end to all your insecurities.

"Let's go together, Zayne. I want to pay her a visit too."

Two days later, you and Zayne, a bouquet of flowers in hand, stood before the grave bearing many colorful flowers and postcards.

You supposed you knew already, but seeing it firsthand, you realized just how deeply she was loved still. The outpouring of respect from the Hunter Association was evident in the tribute left behind.

"It's been a while," Zayne, dressed in his most formal black suit, said solemnly, his gaze fixed on the name etched into the pristine stone.

You watched as he knelt to place his flowers and then brought his hands together in prayer. You followed his lead, placing your own bouquet beside his.

What should you even say to her? Your mind raced with countless thoughts, but none felt right to voice before the woman who had so deeply captured your husband's heart.

In the end, when you sensed that Zayne had finished with his prayer, you decided to remain silent and rose with him.

. . .

“Does it get easier?” you asked out of curiosity afterwards. “Three years has passed already.”

Although Zayne wasn’t one for drinking, even the need won today. He didn’t meet your eyes as he sipped his wine, humming thoughtfully. “Somewhat. As they say, time heals.”

You two stopped by a fine restaurant after visiting the grave. The cemetery had been a two-hour drive from Linkon City, and now it was already evening.

“She loved jasmines,” you remarked, recalling the pot of them you once saw on her desk and the flowers overflowing at the grave earlier.

“She did.” The alcohol seemed to loosen his tongue as he continued, “She loved old popsicles and macarons too.”

“And you like them as well.”

“To be honest, I started liking them back when we were kids…” Zayne had this pained, faraway look in his eyes as he had another sip. “She cried over her melted popsicle and it got me to wonder if it was really that tasty...”

The idea that you had to compete with a dead woman for your husband’s affection left a bitter taste in your mouth. You felt like you had failed thoroughly as a wife.

Despite hating yourself for asking, you needed to know. “Do I help you… in any way at all?”

Zayne was clearly taken aback by the question. His sharp, gray eyes locked onto you, mind whirred as he tried to grasp your meaning.

“Y/N, you...”

It was foolish, you knew. But you waited with bated breath for his response, even when one wrong word could shatter your heart beyond repair. You were ready for any sort of unfavorable answer, but then—

“I... am glad it is you.”

His words made you look up, and you found yourself caught in his gaze. Zayne’s ashen eyes were steady, piercing into you.

“You were there on the hardest days. And ever since, you’ve always stayed by my side.” He held your gaze firmly, voice was thick with emotion you couldn’t quite name. “I’m grateful for that.”

And then, with a sincerity that pierced through every uncertainty, he added, “What I want to say is... I’m glad I married you, Y/N.”

You have loved him for so long. Since the days when you know he isn’t yours to love, until now.

Your heart swelled with so much warmth that tears brimmed in your eyes. His acknowledgment of your presence filled you with a profound sense of belonging you never knew you needed before.

Was it the alcohol?

You suspected it might be, because in nearly two years of marriage, Zayne had never lost his control like this. As soon as the bedroom door was shut, he pushed you against the wall and devoured your lips hungrily.

“Mmph!” His hands gripped your arms while his lips and tongue pried yours open. The kiss was searing, almost forceful, with the faint bitterness of wine still lingering.

“Zay…ne…” you gasped between his kisses—teary, breathless, your voice trembling.

But your breathy grunts only seemed to spur him on. His dark eyes, clouded with lust, fixed on you as his hands slipped beneath your blouse, deftly unclasping your bra with a flick.

He is hot. Your husband was everything a woman desired in a man. Cool, handsome, blessed with hands that could do wonders—

In no time, he had you naked and wet before him, and with alarming speed, he too discarded his own suit and pants, throwing them away in flurry. And you could hardly believe what you were seeing next.

He spitted on his hand, ran it along his member—stroking himself with a practiced ease, never breaking eye contact with you. The next thing you knew, he yanked you into another burning kiss and made you topple on top of him—

“Ah!” his hands guided your hips with precision, positioning you and entering you. The instant he did, you whimpered at the sudden, sharp sting of pain.

“Does it hurt?” he asked almost in a growl when you clung to his shoulder with uneven breaths.

It was too sudden, and you hoped the discomfort would pass, so you timidly shook your head.

“If you don’t want this, tell me to stop.” Zayne tangled his fingers in your hair, turning your face to his. “Understand?”

There was always a distinct, almost commanding aura about him whenever the two of you were in your marital bed. Perhaps the way his voice sound lower, but it just hit different.

And you are a willing prey... whenever he becomes that beast.

He inched inside you slowly, making you moan with each instance. He was thick, warm, and taking him in was a challenge in itself. And when he finally sheathed himself fully, your nails had made its first scratch on his skin.

You felt full, and the way your womanhood stretched and clenched around him with each breathe you took made you dizzy. Panting, you finally met his gaze. Zayne’s gray-hazel eyes were still clouded with desire as he placed his hands firmly on your hips. Unable to resist, you reached out to caress his face.

"Hmm..." he subconsciously leaned into your touch, pressing his eyes shut together. "You smell nice," he huskily muttered.

Right this moment, all negative thoughts eluded you. It felt gratifying that your husband sought your touch like this as you towered over him.

And yet, despite that...

“Do you... finally see me now?” you asked, trailing your other hand down his toned chest and starting to grind against him. Zayne drew in a sharp breath and groaned, his fingers gripping your bum tighter.

Depending on his response, you would either find peace or face another heartbreak. You had placed your happiness on this pedestal more times than you could count, and it was a cross you had to bear.

But you never received your answer.

Your husband merely gazed up at you with a dangerous gleam. And oh, you could've sworn, this sight of Zayne eyeing you as if he were about to ruin you right then and there, would live-free in your mind for many days to come.

He then buried his face in your bosom, sucking on you with such fervor that your hands instinctively reached for his head to massage his scalp. The room was soon filled with your erotic groans and the squelching sounds from where your flesh were joined together— as he thrusted inside you over and over.

Right in this moment, you felt truly desired and wanted.

You are so happy. Incomparably so.

At the crack of dawn, Zayne woke with a start.

The first thing he noticed was how spent he felt, his limbs stiff and a throbbing headache pulsing at the back of his head.

Then he turned to his side, and the sight that met him twisted his gut in such a way that snapped him fully awake—

You were beside him, barely dressed and still deeply asleep. Your hair was a mess, and love bites were scattered across your skin, some on your chest looking almost like bruises.

It dawned on him that he, too, wasn’t decent. A sudden coldness gripped him, though it wasn’t just the morning air.

Him and you... last night...

Yesterday marked the third year. He meant everything he said to you, but the fact that he did this, with you, on the day of her death...

There was... nothing wrong with what he had done. You were his wife, no one could condone him for what he instigated. Yet, it still made him shiver.

And to make it worse, his thoughts from last night echoed back with vengeance, and—

He suddenly feels so immensely guilty.

. . .

It was the best sleep you’d had all week.

When you woke, sunlight had seeped through the window, and you discovered yourself already in pajamas, tucked snugly under a blanket. Still groggy with a dull ache in your lower belly, you relished the lingering afterglow, sighing in pure contentment, until you noticed Zayne wasn’t beside you.

Where did he go? You wondered amidst your haze. Sluggish, you stumbled out of the bed, flinching when your foot met the cold floor.

You eventually found him downstairs, sipping coffee at the dining table still with messy hair. "Zayne?"

He glanced up at you and nodded. There was something different about him, a subtle shift you couldn’t quite place. As you took a seat across from him, you hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Before you could find the right words though, he spoke first.

"I'm... sorry," he said, his tone laced with regret, causing a sharp pang of unease inside you.

"What?" you stared at him, feeling small and unsettled. "What are you sorry for?" you questioned as you gripped the hem of your shirt.

And then came the killing blow—

"Last night," Zayne muttered, avoiding your gaze. "I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. It was a mistake."

Mistake. The word echoed in your mind, but it was still hard to grasp its full weight.

"How was that—" you faltered, trembling, as the realization hit you like a truck and you gasped in disbelief. "Oh..."

Her. Again, and again, and again! Even when he was married to you, even when you were the one next to him each and everyday— even so!

Your husband considers that a night spent with you—his wife—a mistake!

The last of your patience snapped, as you broke down in sobs before him. "You're the worst!" you screamed at him amidst your mournful tears.

Zayne seemed taken aback at your outburst, his eyes wide. "Y/N, wait, you don't—"

"Screw you!" But you were beyond explanations at this point. You fled back to your bedroom. Zayne followed you suit, but you slammed the door in his face and locked it. As you collapsed onto the floor, the realization hit you with full force.

No matter what you did, you would always come second—or not at all.

The fracture in your marriage was undeniable.

Things had changed. Your home felt colder, and the tension was so stifling that you sometimes spent the night at the Hunter Association’s dorm just to escape it.

Zayne initially tried to reach out, but you were unwilling to listen, and eventually, he gave up. Before long, nearly a month had passed with this strain in the air.

You threw yourself into more rescue operations, using work as a distraction from the turmoil that lingered in your mind. Despite your best efforts to distract yourself, the unresolved thoughts and feelings clung to you.

"Xavier, am I lacking as a woman?"

Your frequent partner these days cracked open an eye despite his attempt to nap before today’s rescue mission. "What...?"

"No, forget it."

Things couldn't go like this forever. It was obvious by now—as long as he couldn’t let go of his past and you couldn’t accept him as he was, this marriage couldn't be saved.

Just as you headed towards the printer in the room, Xavier responded. "You talk a lot, eat a lot, and always bothering me when I'm about to sleep..."

You shot him an irked glance, disbelief evident on your face. "Hey!"

"But—" his clear voice cut through the air as he turned to you with half-lidded eyes. "You're exceptionally kind. If anyone can't appreciate that, then it's their loss."

At that moment, the ice inside your chest melted. To know that your own co-worker thought that kindly of you gave you a little boost of confidence.

But then Xavier added, "Sometimes you're stupid too. It's funny to watch."

"—?! You're so mean!"

A subtle smile curved on his lips as he turned to his side, ready to resume his nap. "Anyway, what are you printing?"

You feigned a huff as you gathered the papers and brought them to your desk. "Just something I need to submit when necessary."

A part of you wasn’t fully committed to it, of course—it was just that your emotions had no proper outlet even until now. As you pushed the drawer shut, a wave of bitterness washed over you as you reread the title on the blank form:

Petition for Divorce.

Zayne genuinely wanted to treat you well.

You were a nice girl. Too nice even. From the moment he laid his eyes on you some years ago, as a friend of a friend, he knew you were nothing but kind and cheery.

He still remembered that morning vividly: the hurt on your face, the tears welling up in your eyes, and then you breaking into inconsolable sobs. That sight inflicted something in him—it felt as though his own heart had been split in two.

Believe it or not, he cherished you too.

That night, even though he didn’t show it, he was still mourning her. When alcohol took over his mind and he saw you, you seemed like a perfect escape. He thought that even if he forced himself on you, there would be no consequences.

He hated that he had thought that way. He hated that how, in the end, you had become a means of relief for him.

Now you couldn't even look him in the eye, and Zayne didn't want to risk trying to coax you further. You were angry with him and rightly so, but when you ignored him and went home late more often, he was worried.

It was what drove him to volunteer for the rescue mission. When he saw your name on the hunter list, he felt compelled to make sure you were okay.

. . .

It was strange to see you on duty.

With your hunter uniform and your hair tied up, you were the picture of a very capable hunter. Zayne found himself unexpectedly following your movements as you came and went.

"Dr. Zayne, are you checking your wife out?" the EMT next to him teased with a grin. "Well, when you have a pretty wife such as Y/N, of course..."

He cleared his throat and the EMT giggled as he sauntered away.

So, you were also considered attractive here. Of course you were. Zayne knew it, but he just didn't expect that anyone here would blurt it out so openly.

But that wasn't the most surprising of all—

"Xavier, shush!" you playfully punched the blonde man next to you in the chest, your broad smile lighting up the moment. The two of you whispered closely, and Zayne found himself feeling uncomfortable, like being prickled by several needles.

He has never made you laugh so openly like that. The nagging feeling inside him grew stronger as he watched you—even if it was just in a platonic sense—with another man. It stirred something within him, making him want to pull that blonde aside, give him a word or two, and overthrow him altogether.

Amidst the growing storm inside him, you suddenly turned sideways and caught his eye, and Zayne could've sworn... he felt time stopped at that moment.

It was so candid that it took his breath away. The way your earnest, unclouded eyes met his. How natural you were while loading your gun...

Ah, they were right. His wife was exceptionally pretty.

But before he could fully appreciate it, you broke the eye contact and turned away, pretending as if you hadn’t seen him at all.

Zayne wondered then, why did he feel so hurt all of a sudden?

Battlefields were always a place of chaos, and Zayne was no stranger to it.

He was on standby at the makeshift hospital as patients surged in, continuously aiding first-aid. Some were hunters on duty, and his heart was in his throat the entire time, anxiously hoping you wouldn’t be among them.

"Doc... it still hurts," a little girl sniffled right after Zayne wrapped her injured arm with the gauze. Despite the anxiety, seeing this tearful girl softened his frown.

"It's just going to take a while, hmm?" he patted the kid in the head. "It's going to be better soon enough."

"My mom is still inside..." she said, her eyes welling up with tears. "Doc, will they get her out?"

Zayne hesitated, his thoughts briefly drifting to you. He managed a reassuring smile. "Don’t worry, they’ll—"

Crash! —all of a sudden, a loud explosion shook the hospital, the sound echoing through the chaos. The little girl clung to his coat in fear.

"Call for retreat!" someone suddenly shouted from outside. "Alert all personnel immediately!"

Retreat. The thought that you might be safe soon brought him a sense of relief. He turned to the girl, trying to keep his composure.

"Look, the hunters are retreating, it means most are already evacuated." Zayne managed a reassuring smile. "Stay here. I'll help you find her later, okay?"

He went to the survivors' camp outside, attending to the wounded and keeping a vigilant eye on each returning hunter. Even until 30 minutes later, he still hadn't seen you. Thinking to contact you, he reached out for his phone.

"Who hasn't gotten out?" Jenna, your team leader, demanded the receiver with a stern voice, standing tall several feet away from the camp, and Zayne overheard the snippets of her conversation.

A frantic voice responded, "Xavier is still inside! Y/N too!"

"Those two! They are always—!"

What?

Zayne almost dropped his phone when he heard your name. Terror gripped him instantly, and then suddenly, again, it was his greatest nightmare realized.

You are still inside. You could be hurt. It was possible you had no means to get out of there.

He didn’t register letting go of his coat or crossing the police line—all that mattered was getting to you. He sprinted away, ignoring the shouts of those trying to stop him.

No. Not again!

Debris flew everywhere, and the roars of Wanderers grew louder as he neared the building wreckage. As a splinter was about to hit him, ice shot through his palms, creating a barrier that shattered it.

"Y/N!" he shouted your name, his voice cracking with panic. "Where are you?!"

All he could think about was the memory of you bleeding out in the ER. Zayne never wanted to see that again. Should anything happen to you now...

He didn't want you to be hurt. He hated seeing you cry. For the past weeks, it had torn him apart to see you so unhappy. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, the one you looked at with love.

The realization washed over him like a tidal wave. Yet it wasn’t an epiphany but a simple truth he had always known but never fully grasped until now.

If he lost you now, it'd destroy him.

He continued screaming your name over and over. And then, after turning several turns, he finally saw you, standing alone in the middle of the wreckage—

You turned to him in surprise when you heard your name in his shout, and were rooted to the spot, in disbelief that your husband was right before you.

Zayne felt a wave of relief wash over him, until a hollow croak from above caught his attention. He squinted—

A glass panel had crumbled and was falling directly towards you.

A sense of dread so great overwhelmed him, a lump formed in his throat, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. He sprinted forward, and with everything he had, he pushed you out the way.

The next thing he knew, everything went pitch black.

"Zayne? Zayne!"

A memory flashed in his mind's eye. The one memory he wished he didn't have to relive ever again.

Sitting on the deserted hospital bench, his eyes were vacant. Utter hollowness choked him, leaving him motionless. It was over. There was no blood on his hands, yet it felt as if there were.

Your grip on his shoulder was tight, shaking him. "Zayne, snap out of it!" and only then he brought himself to meet your eyes.

"She died." That was the only thing he could mutter, pain woven in each word. "She really died."

Your eyes widened in horror, an inaudible gasp left your lips. "Oh..."

He didn't really know what happened next, but he remembered the warmth from when you pulled him to your arms, when sobs wracked his body as he thought the world was ending.

Since then, you have always been there.

And subconsciously, he may have regarded you as his lifeline.

. . .

Another memory.

"Are you awake...?"

His mind was hazy, but he recognized your voice. He blearily opened his eyes to find you placing a cool compress on his forehead.

"Who would have thought the great Dr. Zayne can get a fever?" you said with a soft laugh, patting his hair. "Don’t worry about me. Go back to sleep."

You came to see him. He remembered telling you not to. But you still did, and the fact thawed the ice in his heart.

Just as you were about to leave, his hand reached out and pulled you closer. "Don’t go."

"Are you trying to make me catch your cold too?" you teased with a soft laugh.

"Hmph. Who told you to come here...?"

"Ah, so you're whiny when you're not feeling well," you observed with a smile. "Okay, I'll stay! But only if you agree to nurse me if I catch your cold!"

You were noisy, but endearingly so.

. . .

"Don't pay her any mind," you fidgeted on your seat, a frown on your face. "My mom always does that."

There was never any talk about the nature your relationship between the two of you, but it was clear to everyone nevertheless. You were always around him, and he seemed to enjoy your company just as much.

And not for the first time, your mother pushed him towards marriage with you.

"People are always getting the wrong idea," you grumbled. "Sorry, Zayne..." you lowered your head, seemingly in regret.

He was puzzled, because to him, it wasn't necessarily false. All things you did together lead to this.

"What if it isn't a wrong idea at all?"

You looked at him with slight surprise. "Huh...?"

Your presence was a gift. That tragedy was devastating, but having you constantly by his side made it bearable. He was fond of you, and the thought that if it's you, then surely...

In this memory, he was more sure than ever. What he said then, it came from the truest place in his heart.

"What if I told you... as of right now, I can't imagine being with anyone but you?"

The side of his head was throbbing with pain. Everything hurt, the hard asphalt was bruising his face as the headache set in. He could smell the scent of blood and sweat, but more than that—

"Zayne! Ah, hah— Please, please! No!"

Your voice, choked with tears, blared in his ears as you desperately shook him. You sounded so heartbroken, so utterly panicked, and your voice gradually pulled him back to consciousness.

Opening his eyes took tremendous effort. At first, everything was a blur, but then it came into focus—the sight of you disheveled, smeared with soot, with tears streaming down your face. But still you— the woman he had married two years ago.

Yet his heart lurched. You're crying again... why is it that whenever with me, you're always crying?

"Are you... alright?" he rasped, lifting his hand to touch your face.

"Why did you—" You were startled by his question, your gaze fixed on the blood pooling on the side of his face. "Your head is bleeding!"

Ah, so you're fine. The sheer knowledge brought him relief, a faint smile forming at his lips. "I'm glad..."

"I'll help you get back! Hold onto me—" you said after brushing away your tears, lifting him up and draping his arm around your shoulder. "Can you walk?"

"I'm... fine..."

"You're not!" you refuted harshly, voice trembling. "You have to go back!"

You made him lean on you as you made your way back to the makeshift hospital, each step accompanied by your sniffles as you supported his waist.

Zayne glanced at you, feeling a warmth in his chest despite the migraine. "D-Don't cry... I'll be fine."

"You're an idiot!" you choked out, struggling to hold back your tears. "Why did you even come out here?"

"I... have to find you. They said you haven't returned."

"There are still civilians inside! I'll return eventually!"

"I can’t wait for that. I... have to know you're safe."

His response only fueled your frustration. "You don't have to—!"

"You are my wife—" he snapped, turning to you sharply, his eyes flashing with anger. "How can I not worry— for you?"

The forceful tone in his voice went straight to the most tender part of your heart. It really struck you at that moment that he had come out here for you, that his concern for you was that profound.

And that after all these weeks, he still keeps you in his thoughts.

He had pushed you out of the way, even at the cost of himself, barely missing the fallen billboard in that violent crash. If he was in the wrong position, he could've lost his life.

You stared at him, tears glossing your eyes.

"That's enough... Don't cry again." Zayne reached out to wipe your cheeks. His hands, however, were smeared with his own blood, leaving streaks on your face. "Ah... I got blood on you..."

But in that moment, you couldn’t care less. There was this indescribable sting of grief, but also paired with a sense of relief so great in your chest the very second you realize that now, he sees you.

You threw yourself into his arms, hugging him tightly as you sobbed, calling out to him in broken voice. “Z-Zayne...!”

“Why are you crying again...?” he let out a resigned sigh, but still embraced you regardless. “What a crybaby...”

You buried your face deeper into him, shaking uncontrollably. “You... saved me...” you managed to say amidst torrent of tears. “Y-You... got hurt...”

“I’ll be fine,” he retorted in your ear albeit in a hoarse voice, holding you close, even as blood trickled down the side of his face. “And I’d do it again. I refuse to see you hurt.”

You cried harder, and he pulled you tighter, his chest aching at the sight of you so inconsolable. And in that moment, he made the decision right then and there.

He will protect you so long as time will allow him to.

It was as if the invisible wall between you had crumbled to dust after that incident. You stayed by Zayne's side night and day, monitoring his condition.

And one night, several days later...

"Here, don't move..."

You carefully dressed the wound on Zayne's temple, sitting close beside him. He quietly observed your worried eyes and trembling fingers without a word.

"You even need stitches..." you lamented, biting your lip as you wrapped the bandage around his head. Tears pricked your eyes, overwhelmed by the concern you were pouring into the task.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine," he gruffly insisted in an attempt to erase your mournful expression. He felt the delicate, almost hesitant touch of your fingers on his face. "It'll heal with time."

Even as he said that, a part of you was still troubled at the sight of the wound on his head and cheekbone. No matter what he said, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was somehow your fault.

"I'm done. Now go rest," you said softly, your voice tinged with bitterness after tying the gauze. You rose to put the kit away, but even after you finished, Zayne remained upright on the bed, so you leveled a frown at him.

"What, why aren't you— Ah!"

Before you knew it, he pulled you by the arm, and you tumbled into his chest in surprise. "What are you doing?!" you yelled at him, clinging to his shoulder and looking up at him with ire. "You could've hit your head!"

He looked down at you with a flat expression, or is that a hint of amusement glinting in his eyes? “Can't a husband cuddle his wife?”

You blinked dumbly, caught off-guard. “Yes, you can, but...”

His arms then enveloped you, fitting you on his chest and he sighed against your hair. “Then there’s nothing wrong with it. Let’s just stay like this for now.”

And so, that was how he decided to sleep throughout the night—with you on top of him, held close. You felt self-conscious as Zayne had never initiated this closeness with you since that night.

"Are you sure you want to sleep this way?" you wriggled a bit in his grasp.

He draped an arm around your waist, pressing his eyes shut. "Mm-hm."

"You..." A part of you recoiled at the vulnerability but decided to ask anyway. "Won't this be… a mistake...?"

That caught his attention, as Zayne's eyes fluttered open. He looked down at you, who avoided his gaze with a pout and a torn expression, making yourself small in his embrace.

It dawned on him then that this persisting issue in your marriage was thoroughly his fault. His past was something he could never—and would never—trade for anything, but right now, you were that sense of peace that grounded him.

At one point, he has to let it go. These feelings inside him… they drive him to.

He softened, his gaze full of understanding as he gently brushed your hair back. "No," he said quietly, his voice tender. "We’ve come too far for it to be one."

Your clear, innocent eyes reluctantly met his, and at that moment something akin to clarity resonated within him.

He once thought nothing could ever mend the hollowness in his heart. And once, he indeed hoped that being with you would provide some form of relief or replace what he had lost.

But right now, feeling how vulnerable you were in his arms like this, he understood that you were not, and could never be, a replacement for anything else. Even before he realized it himself, what he felt for you was something entirely different— something dear that had grown and evolved into a genuine affection different from what he had felt for anyone else before.

Those times spent with you, wanting to protect you... Now that he reflected on it, it was never about filling a void, after all.

“I... want to treasure you better.”

Oh. Your heart thumped loudly as those words left his lips, warmth spreading through your entire being. Overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice, you clung to his chest, feeling a surge of love and a profound sense of being freed from the chains of insecurity that had taken you hostage all these years.

Most precious. Zayne smiled at you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“This time for sure... I will.”

And at last... he could say it without any lingering guilt.

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Salaryman who is exhausted from this dull and pathetic job. He has been trying to climb the ladders for years, but it just keeps getting worse and worse and…

Yandere!Salaryman who has a burning hatred for the newbie aka you. “Oh! Congrats on the new promotion! I never have gotten one even though I have been rotting here for as long as I can remember, while you just came in last month”, he wants to tell you. Instead, he just offers you a strained smile and a small nod when you greet him in the morning.

Yandere!Salaryman who, one day, has to stay overtime with the newbie. As he diligently works on the numbers on his computer screen, he ignores your attempts at small talk, giving curt answers at best.

Yandere!Salaryman who finally snaps as you won’t leave him alone. He screams and shouts, emptying his heart out. Suddenly, he collapses on the floor and starts sobbing. He cries and cries for his pitiful self and miserable life, until it dies down to small sniffles. His face ends up being all red and puffy, his eyes all glossy and his lips settled into a pout. You can't help but find him cute.

Yandere!Salaryman who looks confused when you give him your handkerchief to dry his tears. He stays eerily quiet as you try to cheer him up, telling him that he shouldn’t ruin his pretty face like that. After offering your hand to help him stand up, you end this interaction with a small, empathetic pat on the shoulder and a “If you need anything, I got you”.

Yandere!Salaryman who, later that night, goes straight to bed. He can feel his face burn from embarrassment and maybe something else. Your words keep going on loop inside his head. Clutching the handkerchief close to his chest, a small whimper escapes him as he takes a whiff of it. You smell so good…He closes his eyes as he tries to recall your touch. Your hand was soft too…This is all making him dizzy.

Oh god, what did you do to him? And how was he going to face you at work tomorrow?

[the-k-meme-dream-team]

LIFE SUCKS AAAAAAAAHHHBHB